knave
noun
a dishonest or unscrupulous person.

{Taemin had been blaming the mailman.} | 1355w

A/N: so what was it this time? Surprise visit from friend who'd been away at uni, last-minute shopping for family events on the weekend + holiday, lack of sleep catching up with me, shinee's anniversary, & good ol' fashioned laziness ( / A\)

(but why is this so long omf)

“You did what?!” It was clear that Jonghyun didn't take the confession well, and rightly so.

“I've been doing it for a while, actually...” Taemin admitted before shutting his eyes and biting his lip, dreading but expecting to be rebuked by his best friend. Perhaps this was something he should've kept to himself, but he couldn't live without telling anyone anymore. He could hear him struggling to form even the first word of whatever speech he was going to give him.

Jonghyun gave an exasperated sigh, disbelief and frustration rendering him speechless.

“I– I know I shouldn't have. I'll stop.”

“Yes you will!” he finally yelled. “You know what, I'm in the area. I'll be there in ten.” He hung up.

Taemin was left standing with his back against the door of his apartment, a silent phone at his ear, and several envelopes addressed to 'Choi Minho' in his hand.

He didn't know about details or loopholes (if any) when it came to mail theft, but he did know that it'd gotten easier every time he did it.

He knew stealing mail was illegal, so Taemin wasn't proud of that, much less about how he'd pulled it off, but in his defense he wasn't keeping it or even opening it. He didn't care for the content in the envelopes or the junk businesses sent with all their catalogues and fliers. He simply took it to return it. That was the reasoning that led him to do it the first time.

He deserved all the hell Jonghyun gave him once he'd arrived. Taemin sat cross-legged on the couch with his head tilted down, and listened to his friend go on and on about how wrong it was to take people's personal and important things and if he'd even considered the consequences if he were caught.

For the record, he had (much too briefly), but at the time it seemed an innocent enough thing to do in an attempt to meet the handsome stranger down the hall.

“What if someone had seen you?” Jonghyun asked, standing in the middle of the living room, waving his arms to emphasize his words. “And if management found out? Don't you think they might kick you out for that?”

The thought scared him, and it scared Jonghyun too because it was rare to see him so worked up about anything.

“I'm sorry. I was being stupid,” Taemin mumbled, eyes fixed on the letters strewn across the small black coffee table between them.

The elder sighed once more, deciding to ease up on him. He went over to sit beside him and threw an arm over his shoulders. “I'm not going to say it's okay because it's not,” he said firmly. “But I can't be mad at you.” He rubbed the side of his face, thinking about what Taemin had told him. His friend had somehow gotten this plan to work, and he was very interested in this Choi guy. And if that wasn't enough, apparently he'd taken a liking to Taemin too. “You have too much damn time on your hands.”

Taemin cracked a smile. “I needed an excuse, so I found one...”

“Believe it or not, 'hello' hasn't gone out of style.” Jonghyun rolled his eyes and playfully pushed him onto the cushions. “Idiot.” He got up to gather the mail that wasn't his and then walked away.

“Where are you going?” Taemin leapt off the couch to follow him.

“No, you're going,” he answered.

Taemin didn't like the sound of that. He ran ahead and slid in between Jonghyun and the door, extending his arms to block the exit.

“That's fine, Tae. If you don't want me tagging along, I'll wait here, but you will return these and you will apologize.”

It was no use arguing. Taemin would've spent the entire evening going back and forth with Jonghyun, so he gave in, snatched the letters, and stomped out of his apartment. He wished he could feel as determined as he did when he slammed the door shut and left Jonghyun behind. Nine doors, then only two, and his heart was beating his chest like his feet were the carpeted floor. Last-minute hopes bounced around in his head with the phrases he was putting together for when he'd see Minho.

“Please don't be home,” he whispered to himself while he raised a shaky hand to knock the familiar door with the numbers '425' written under the peephole.

Of course he was.

“Taemin!” The tall dark haired man swung his door open and looked surprised to see him. “Hi! Has the mail come already?” he laughed.

Taemin returned the greeting with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Actually, it has.” He shifted his weight from one leg to another and kept the letters out of sight behind his leg. “I came to tell you something though. Can we talk?”

Minho picked up on his less-than-cheerful attitude and immediately stood aside, inviting him in. “Of course. Is everything alright?”

He stepped inside and removed his shoes, nodding while his eyes scanned the new surroundings. “I hope so, at least.”

Minho led him to his living room, which was much more inviting than his was. “Sorry about the mess. I can make tea. You want some?”

“No, it's okay,” he answered, taking a seat on the end of the couch across from Minho on the sofa. “I'll only be a minute.” He figured that if worse came to worse, he wouldn't even stay long enough for the water to come to a boil.

“Is that mine?” Minho asked, spotting the envelopes half tucked under Taemin's thigh. A smile played on the corner of his lip, but his eyebrows were pinched together.

“Yeah.” He pulled the letters out and held them out for Minho to take. “I wanted to give these to you.”

He received the small stack, and didn't bother to look at any of the letters before setting them aside. “Thanks. Weird how these never get to me,” he murmured carefully, his semi-squinted eyes locking with Taemin's.

He knew. Minho knew and he was too polite to accuse him of taking his mail. Taemin wanted to run out of there and hide in his apartment so that he'd never have to face him again, but he couldn't do that. Not only because that was insane, but because Jonghyun was capable of dragging him back to make him see this through.

“Minho, I'm sorry.” The words were barely louder than a whisper, and under his questioning stare they just spilled out of his mouth. “I know it was wrong, but I never meant any harm. I just, I just wanted to know you, okay? I know it's stupid, but I tend to do stupid things. I swear I returned everything. I– I'm really sorry... and if you want, I'll go.” He rose to leave, which startled Minho. “I promise I won't bother you again or any–”

“Woah.” Minho cut him off before he could say more. “No, don't leave.” He strode over to stop him in his tracks.

Taemin's mouth hung open in confusion. “What?”

“You're right. It was stupid. But I trust what you say.” He took a step toward Taemin, making that moment the closest they'd gotten since they first met three weeks ago. “And if I'd suspected anything wrong, I would've done something about it.”

Taemin couldn't speak. He was still weighed down by guilt and embarrassment, but mostly he felt weak under Minho's concerned gaze.

“I'm guess I'm sorry too,” he said softly. “I felt something was off at the beginning, but I thought, 'hey, if he's going to show up to flirt every now and then, what's the problem?'” He laughed nervously, awkwardly shifting on his feet in front of Taemin. “You started it, but I let it happen.”

Taemin had only been prepared for the worst. He didn't have a backup plan for this. “I... don't know what to say.”

“Please say you'll stay for tea.”