It was Christmas Eve. Minho pulled Yoogeun’s Christmas gift from the closest and placed it on the bed. The next thing he did was grabbed the wrapping paper. Slowly, with a few pieces of tape stuck to the back of his hand, he covered the box with the Snoopy decorated paper until it was completely concealed. He walked it downstairs to the tree that Yoogeun had pulled out and decorated and placed the box under it. There were three other gifts there; one with his name on it, one with Jonghyun, and one he stared at. 

A small box with Jinki’s name on it. 

Yoogeun had purchased it a few days ago, a silver chain linked bracelet, one that matched the one Minho always wore, saying that Minho was taking too long picking up the phone and getting Jinki back to the house. Yoogeun didn’t know what he was talking about. He’d sent a million text messages to Jinki. Countless. All unanswered. 

It wasn’t his problem anymore. It wasn’t his problem that he frightened Jinki. It wasn’t his problem that Jinki was repulsed by him, that he reminded Jinki of death. 
Jinki wouldn’t give him to chance to prove to him that he was none of those things. 

Now that his ankle was healed, he was able to do all the things being injured had prevented. He had plans that day, maybe get to the grocery store before they shut down for the day. He needed to get a card for his parents and a card for Soeun’s parents. Yoogeun would be back in the morning from grandparents’ house, a tradition Soeun’s parents had started when Yoogeun was able to walk. 

That meant an empty house on Christmas Eve. It was fine. Tomorrow was the happiest day on Earth right? He reminded himself to pick up a few more beers to suffer the quiet house.

He grabbed his coat and his house keys and walked towards the door, remembering to turn the thermostat down. Even if he could start working again at the beginning of the year, they still had bills to be mindful of. 

Preparing himself mentally for the cold, he reached for the knob and turned it and opened it. He was greeted with Lee Jinki on the other side.

The older man smiled a bit, unsure. His scarf covered most of his face and his nose was red from the cold, but to Minho, the sight was drinking from a well after wandering in the desert. 

He didn’t think, he didn’t do anything but act on instinct, drawing Jinki from outside and hugging him. He threw up his shields this time, making sure the mental block was there that would prevent him from getting a vision. 

Suddenly their last conversation floated through his mind and he let go, immediately backing up into the foyer of his house. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…you told me not to touch you.” 

Jinki looked down and scuffed his feet against the ice slicked pavement. “It’s alright…um, can I come in?”

“Oh…yeah sure. I was just heading out but…yeah, no, come in, come in.” 

Jinki walked to the living room, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck. Next was his coat and he walked it to the coat closet, like he owned the house. Minho noticed it, Jinki’s comfort in his house. Despite their…issues, he liked that Jinki felt at ease here.

Minho moved to the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee. Minutes later, he walked back into the living room with two cups and a half full carafe. 

Jinki accepted the cup, bringing it up to his nose to inhale the scent. He tentatively took a sip. “Still the best coffee in the world. I’ve been looking for it for weeks. Couldn’t find it,” he said with a wry smile.

“They only have it up at the market on the corner. They order it for me special, straight from Columbia.” 

“Oh,” Jinki said, as he took another sip. “So…” he placed the coffee down.

“So…”

Minho expected a couple of things, but mostly, an apology. Not that he necessarily deserved one, but the warmth in Jinki’s heart was an ardent thing. But he didn’t want an apology. What happened the other night was out of their hands. Minho had as much control over his ability as Jinki had in saving his brother. What he wanted was an explanation. He wanted to know more, to understand why Jinki was so stuck in his grief, that he’d repressed his connection to his brother.  

“About the other night. I…um…I was scared. Well, yeah you could probably see that. I,” Jinki paused, drawing his lip between his teeth. 

Minho saw the emotions flash across his face, like a kaleidoscope of bad dreams, the look so powerful that Minho could taste it in the back of his mouth. The grief tasted like the morning after a night of drinks, like over salted beef, like the residue of a bitter chord, heavy and disgusting. 

When Jinki had collected himself to continue, Minho was there patiently. 

“I lost Taemin when I was twenty-three. It was a different pain than when I lost my parents. I held him in my arms. I…watched him die. And in the end I didn’t deal well.”

Minho put a hand on his knee, comforting and reassuring as if there was such a thing in this type of situation. “Nobody would handle that well, Jinki.”

“Not as bad as I’ve dealt it, though. It’s not that I don’t understand. I do. Hurt people hurt people. I…I’m hurting people. Friends…myself, you. I’m hurting them. And I acknowledge it. I know I’m toxic. I know that my fake smile and my fake laughter means nothing to people. I know it. And when they try to help me, I lash out because I know that I’m toxic. There is so much…heaviness in me. It weighs me down and I try not to drag people down with me, but I can’t help it. They grab on to me, because they care about me, and I drag them down and use their bodies to kick off of so I can swim to the surface.”

Minho was silent, choosing to listen than correct Jinki. He wasn’t toxic. He was in pain.

“I need to get it out of me. I need to accept that he’s gone. I have to. I keep,” Jinki’s voice cracked. “I keep looking at the door thinking he’s going to walk through the door and he never does. He has never walked through that door. Not once and it hurts so much.” By this time Jinki was crying, his face in shambles, fractured, the pieces flowing down his face as tears. “You can talk to him? You can see him?”

Minho nodded. “I’ve spoken to him twice,” he said quietly.

“What does he look like. Is he okay, is he happy?” Jinki asked, brokenly, his face still wet. 

“He’s tall. His hair is blond? Bright. He wears a black t-shirt with a symbols made of arrows in white and a pair of black jeans. Boots and a white bomber jacket.”

“That was his favorite outfit. He made me buy two of the shirts and then he turned around and bought another one because he knew the black would fade. He was so unique and he was so damn weird.” Jinki laughed through his tears.

“Do you…” Minho swallowed harshly, scared of Jinki’s answer. “Do you want to talk to him? He says he tries. But you’ve shut him out. He said that he won’t move on until you see him.”

“He’s stuck? Because of me?” Jinki cried, alarmed.

Minho reached out and tried to ease his guilt. “Not because of you. More like he’s waiting around for you. There’s a difference.”

“Is it possible? That I can talk to him?”

Minho nodded. “I can act as a medium. Do you have something that belongs to him? Something that meant a lot to him?”

Jinki eyes shifted around as he thought. He hand flew to his neck. “This…this was his wishbone necklace.” Quickly, Jinki’s fingers were dancing to the back of his neck, to the clasp. Seconds later, the necklace dropped from around his neck. He handed it over, fingers shaking, hands shaking, his entire body shaking. 

“Wait here for a moment, okay? Don’t leave.” 

Minho ran out of the living room and took the steps three at a time until he reached his bedroom. He raced to his bed and grabbed a small cashmere throw off of it. When he brought I back down, Jinki looked at it, confused.

“It gets cold. I didn’t want you to be cold.”

Jinki sniffled, accepting something he didn’t seem to understand. 

Minho sat down and pointed to his lap. “Lay your head down.” Jinki again, moved with more determination than understanding. Minho laid the blanked over Jinki and allowed him to get comfortable. 

“Like I said, it’ll get cold, so don’t be surprised by that. Just concentrate and think about the happiest moment you have of Taemin.” Minho took the wishbone necklace and slipped it around his neck. “I’m going to lay my hand on your forehead. It’ll get cold too.”

Jinki nodded and laid down. He looked up at Minho and for the first time, Minho saw trust shining back.

“Close your eyes.”




Jinki laid there for a long moment, wondering when it was going to start. He heard Minho’s breathing, heard the trickling of ice melting under the sun, heard his heart beating in his ears.  Then he felt the cold. 

The cold was a terrible kind of cold, that seeped past the throw, past his clothes and into his bones. He began shivering. Just when he was about to reach down to pull the blanket up, something lifted it off of him.

Jinki’s eyes flew open. 

He was on a beach. It was warm. He was lounging in a beach chair and a fruity drink in a pineapple was in his hands. At his feet was a black and white television, orange tape on the knob. It was playing back Taemin’s 16^th birthday party juxtaposed with pictures from Jinki’s twenty first. 

“Jinki!” 

Jinki felt his heart speed up and tears come to his eyes. He looked around, frantically for the owner of the voice. 

“Jinki! Over here!”

Taemin materialized right before his eyes, at the edge of the water. He was in a ridiculous getup, cutoff linen pants and a bright Hawaiian patterned shirt. His hair was tied back from his face and he had his flip flops in one hand. He was waving, motioning for him to join him at the water’s edge.

Jinki scrambled to escape the beach chair, the pineapple falling from his hands, the sugary drink seeping into the sand. By the time he’d reached Taemin’s side he was out of breath. He drew him in a bone crushing hug, squeezing until Taemin began gasping playfully. 

“Geez! What took you so long! I’ve been waiting forever,” Taemin said as he took a step back. 

“You…you’re real?”

“What’s real? What’s not? I’m here, that’s what matters. Remember you’d promised that we would go to the beach? I knew you were always a man of your word.” Taemin smiled. He reached down and looped his arm in Jinki’s arm, tugging him closer. “I get to see Momma and Poppa every once in a while. You didn’t hear this from me but they’re kind of mad at you because they told me I needed to come home. I told them I was gonna wait for you until you came. Then I would go! Mom tsked and Dad just shook his head. He still has that terrible haircut he let Kangin give him. Nothing changes in the afterlife,” Taemin said, dismayed.

“Nothing.” 

“Taemin,” Jinki said, “I missed you so much.”

“Of course you did. I missed you too, silly.”

Jinki opened his mouth to press the point, to make sure Taemin knew just how much he was missed, but there was a childish look on Taemin’s face, and the smile, the smile Jinki would have done anything to put on his face, so he shut up.

Taemin pointed towards a large rock that bordered the beach towards the west. “Look! Look! We gotta climb that bluff. It’s a straight fall off and they say only the brave climb it and jump off it. We have to try it, we have to. But first–” Taemin let go of Jinki’s arm and shoved him before taking off towards the water. “Race to the buoys and back! Last one–“

“–washes the dishes,” Jinki finished right before he took off. Taemin always did that. Race to the streetlight. Race to the diner. Race to the end of the block. The loser always had to wash the dishes. 

Jinki lost. Jinki always lost and by the time he dragged his body on shore, Taemin was laughing his off.

“You’re so damn old!”  

“And you’re a damn cheat!” Jinki yelled out. 

“Yeah, by being younger, more athletic, and all around more awesome. Real cheater, I am.”

“You brat,” Jinki muttered as he struggled to stand.

They spent the next few hours, days, no one knew how it worked wherever they were, eating Ji Young’s hamburgers–Jinki let Taemin have the milkshake–play fighting in the water and walking up and down the beach talking about any and everything. 

Taemin confessed he’d already been accepted to the dance school and Jinki confessed that he’d already formed a plan to start saving for his tuition the moment Taemin told him. Taemin confessed he stole money from Jinki once and Jinki confessed that he already knew. 

They ended up on the rock bluff looking over the ocean as the sun began to drift towards the horizon.

“You have to go soon,” Taemin said, quietly. 

Jinki nodded and kicked at the ground. “I haven’t been to your grave. Not since they buried you,” was Jinki’s last confession.

“Why not?” Taemin asked as he picked up a rock. He pulled his arm back and pitched it over the bluff.

“Because,” Jinki said, the composure breaking down. “Because then I would have to actually say goodbye to you.”

Taemin kept silent. Instead of answering, he walked to the edge of the bluff and turned around. “I’ve been gone for five years Jinki. You have to say goodbye. I’m not the only one who has to move on.”

“You don’t understand, Taemin. I,” Jinki’s voice finally cracking. “I miss you so, so much. So much that I can’t stand it. I had to store you somewhere dark just to survive,” Jinki bottom lip started trembling. 

“You remember what you told me? That night I’d messed up at my dance recital and stormed off stage. You ran up backstage and pulled me out of the corner. Remember what you said to me?”

Jinki felt it all fall away, the lock holding his tears hostage, the ground beneath him and he lowered his head, the tears flowing with no hope of stopping, his face balled so tight in grief. He nodded still, it was all he could do. He felt if he opened his mouth, he would cry himself to death. 

“You told me, one step forward and one day, I’ll get there. No matter what. Never stop walking forward. Jinki…you have to keep walking. Even if I’m not walking with you. Walk.”

The sun halved over the horizon and Jinki knew he’d run out of time. 

“Hey, Jinks.” 

Jinki looked up and Taemin was smiling. “I’ll see you again one day. That’s a promise. So don’t cry anymore.”

Jinki blinked back the rest of his tears. The last image he wanted Taemin to see was of him crying. He wanted to be the strong, brave, older brother Taemin knew. He stood tall, wiped his face dry.

“I love you, Taemin,” Jinki whispered.

“I love you, too, bro,” Taemin said. He closed his eyes and fell backwards, his hair fluttering in the wind before he disappeared over the bluff. The sun dipped below the horizon, the world went dark.


When he woke up, Jinki was still on Minho’s lap, under his blanket. Minho looked down at him with so much compassion and understanding that Jinki couldn’t hold it in anymore. The dam broke and he turned towards Minho, wrapped his arms around his waist and wept. 




“You can sleep in here tonight. We don’t use this room for much, just when Jonghyun’s too lazy to go home.”

Minho led him into the spare bedroom, walking deeper into the room to turn a bedside lamp on. “I laid some clothes out for you, something to sleep in.”

Jinki was silent as he looked around the room. He’d cried himself to sleep earlier that day. When he woke up, Minho served him some soup and sandwiches, which he appeared to accept gratefully, but still was a man of few words. For the most part, he spent most of the time on Minho’s balcony, wrapped in the cashmere throw, the wishbone necklace dangling from his hand. 

Minho didn’t want him to go home and be alone, not like this, so he pretty much coerced him into staying the night. If anything, Yoogeun would be ecstatic in the morning to see Jinki. Maybe it would bring a smile to the man’s face, too. 

Finally, after fluffing the pillows a million times and a whole list of other unnecessary things he felt he needed to do to make Jinki comfortable, he left Jinki alone to catch some more sleep. He drifted to his own bedroom in slow steps with his emotions all over the place. 

Twice he’d touched Jinki and twice no visions came. That usually happened when a spirit has moved on. That meant there would be no more accidental readings. But at the same time, he wondered what Jinki saw and if Jinki would be strong enough to get past this. 

Thinking of that, he grew tired and sleep came to him easily. 

Sometime later, there was a knock on his door. He glanced over to his bedroom clock. 2 in the morning. It’d only been a few hours since he’d been sleep.

“Come in,” he said groggily. 

The door pushed opened and Jinki stood in the door way. Minho sat up in his bed and popped himself on his elbows. “Is something wrong, Jinki?”

“I…don’t want to sleep by myself.”

Minho mouth opened then closed. He sat there frozen for a few seconds, all kind of implications and thoughts running through his head. Jinki must have thought the silence was a refusal.

“I mean, it’s okay. I know it’s kind of weird to ask to crawl into your bed in the dead of night.”

Minho sat all the way up, waving his hand. “No, no. I was just…no, it’s okay.” Minho shifted to the other side of the bed, took a pillow from under his head and moved it over. 

Jinki moved towards the bed, slowly, and stared at it for a long moment before lifting the covers and climbing into the bed. He settled in and pulled the blankets to his chin. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. 

“It’s no problem at all. I just hope you are comfortable. Um…if you need anything, I’m right here.” Minho winced internally.

Minho laid next to him, straight as board, afraid to move, like Jinki was some kind of skittish creature. 

“Relax,” Jinki murmured. “I can literally feel your awkwardness.” 

“Oh, right.” Minho did the opposite, instead concentrating on trying to breathe as quietly as possible. 

That lasted for a few minutes and Minho relaxed more and more the closer he got back to sleepiness. But right before he tasted the first twinkle of slumber, Jinki turned towards him.

“You’re a very beautiful man,” he said suddenly. 

Minho blinked in the darkness. “Uh, thank you,” he said as if it were a question.

“I know that sounds…weird? Sudden, I know,  but I’ve been thinking. It’s all I’ve been doing; about everything and nothing at all. But you’re beautiful. Not just your face, but your heart, too. Thank you, for what you did. I didn’t know I needed that, but I did. I needed it so much. I feel so light. I feel like I can fly. You did that.”

“No,” Minho said, turning towards Jinki. “That was you, your bravery, your connection. I was just there.” Minho bit his lip, hesitating. “The connection is closed now. I don’t see anything when I touch you. Did you…”

“I  said goodbye. I grieved for my brother. I let him go and I started to move on.”

Minho exhaled a giant breathe. “I’m really happy for you, Jinki.”

“Me, too. Can I…” Minho can hear Jinki audibly swallowing and he wondered what he was about to request. “Can I hold your hand?”

Minho stared at him for a few moments before laughing in the darkness, the sound filling the room. “Sorta like junior prom?”

Jinki joined in, the first time he’d heard the man laugh in weeks. “Exactly like junior prom.”

Minho pulled his hand from up under the covers and held it out for Jinki to take. Smoothly, tentatively, Jinki slid his hand against Minho’s and again Minho marveled in the different textures of their palms. Jinki threads their fingers, holding their entwined hands in the air before he uses Minho’s arm to pull him closer.
“This is better,” Jinki says quietly, inches from Minho’s face, his warm minty breath blowing across Minho’s chin.

“It is...” 

Jinki dropped Minho’s hand, the sound thudding against the mattress, before he slipped his arms under Minho’s, finding a space, like a hot knife against wax, against Minho’s long, lean body. Minho stared down at the top of Jinki’s crown of coppery brown hair, snuggled against his neck. He wasted no time, draping a hand over Jinki’s shoulder and pulling him closer.

This felt so…natural. It felt like when the Earth revolved around the sun. It felt like night time when the sun went to sleep, it felt like dawn when the sun woke up. It felt like water against his skin, the way sugar and cinnamon tasted on his tongue. It felt like every natural and good and right thing in his life, the way Jinki’s fit against him. 

Driven by the emotion and the desire of wanting Jinki this close, and finally getting it, he pressed a kiss to his temple, hearing Jinki sigh as he did. The feel of his lips against Jinki was a little addicting, so he placed another, this one right under his temple. Then…another on his cheek, and another to his jaw. Jinki shifted his head after the kiss to his jaw and stared up at Minho, a soft look in his eyes. 

“Hey, Jinki,” Minho said softly. 

Jinki grinned and pushed up, bringing his lips plush against Minho’s. Soft kisses, patient and kind, were followed by slower, sensual ones. Jinki tasted like mint, Minho decided as he against the seam of lips. Jinki’s jaw dropped a little, inviting Minho in and Minho decides that mint leaves were so much better than cinnamon. 

Jinki pulled back first, laying his head against Minho’s collarbone. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I’m needy right now.”

“I’m a little okay with you being needy if that changes your mind? Or is that like a terrible thing to say?”

Jinki snorted. “Do you plan on going somewhere anytime soon?”

Minho thought about it. “No.”

“Then,” he said laying another kiss to Minho’s collarbone, “I reserve my right to take advantage of you. Just later.”

Jinki was right and Minho willed his libido away by sheer concentration. Minho nodded and pulled Jinki back into him, his head falling softly on Minho’s arm. 

He didn’t want their first time to be like this anyways. He wanted to take Jinki to the park, he wanted to do something ridiculous like feed ducks and watch elderly couples stroll down the path holding hands. He wanted to take him to dinner and he wanted to have a glass of wine with him, and he wanted to lay him down against these same sheets and love him, slowly, passionately, until Jinki carved his name into his back. He wanted to have him every night, and cater to his wants during the day. He wanted this, Jinki in his arms, warm and inviting, more than he ever wanted anything else. 

“Hey,” Jinki whispered. 

Minho looked down at him.

“I saw a gift for me under the tree. Thank you.”

“That was more Yoogeun than me. He was mad because I hadn’t marched to your place and thrown you over my shoulder and brought you back here. I planned on getting you a real gift today.”

Jinki hummed and snuggled back into Minho’s embrace. “I’ll get you something. What do you want?”

Minho decided honesty. “Nothing.”

Jinki made a skeptical sound. “That’s ridiculous. I’ll get you…a recycle bin. For all of those beer cans.”

Minho gasped playfully, his fingers carding through Jinki’s hair. “That little brat told on me? Yoogeun’s a snitch? Oh, just wait till he gets here tomorrow.”

“He got it from you, telling all the ghosts little ghostly secrets.”

Minho hummed. “True. But being a little tattletale got me you, right?”

Jinki’s brows rose. “You know…you’re right.”

Jinki yawned against Minho’s neck, snuggling even closer even though Minho thought he wasn’t close enough. “Merry Christmas, Minho,” Jinki whispered as he fell asleep. 

“Merry Christmas, Jinki.”