A/N: Honestly I should die. I'm so, so, so, so sorry for depriving you all for this long. School this year has been a lot harder than I accounted for and I barely had a free moment...It's term break now, so I'm going to write until my fingers fall off! This chapter probably stinks but...I'll update soon! Please enjoy <3

As soon as Kibum turned the knob of the front door, it was as though a wave of cold, sea water had engulfed his entire body and left him shivering. Though his feelings were metaphorical, his goose bumps were not; and instinctively, his hand lifted to his throat, having difficulty swallowing in such a tense situation. A visible pathway was forged by a dim light shining in through the kitchen doorway, and Kibum reluctantly began to shuffle his way towards it.

Everything seemed unnaturally silent, not to say that it wasn’t usually silent, but Kibum felt more unease than he could ever recall feeling. Poking his head around the corner, Kibum gulped. His father sat tensed at the head of the dining table, seemingly glaring at a barely noticeable dent which lined the smooth surface. No newspaper sat before him and neither did Kibum’s mother. Kibum concluded she was in the bathroom and turned away, planning to make his way up to his bedroom before his father could find any reason whatsoever to tell him off.

But luck didn’t seem to be on Kibum’s side that evening, and a stern “Kibum,” sounded upon his first step backwards. “Get in here.”

Worrying his lower lip, Kibum took one last glance behind him as though searching for help before heading into the kitchen. He ignored his father’s glaring face and headed towards the pantry, scavenging around for just something to eat. “There’s never any good snacks in here.” he complained, a barely noticeable tremor in his voice as he reached over to boil the kettle. “Has mum been shopping recently?”

“Turn that off.” replied his father abruptly, and the man’s voice left no room for argument. With a gulp thick with anxiety, Kibum flicked the kettle off and closed the pantry door, hovering within the kitchen awkwardly.

Kibum finally met his father’s gaze, and at simply seeing those cool, merciless eyes, Kibum felt his blood run cold. “Is…Is everything okay?” he dared to ask.

But instead of receiving a normal response, his father merely frowned deeper, harsh lines marring his already calloused features. “No, actually. I’m not quite sure it is.”

“Really?” Kibum ran a nervous hand through his dark locks and held onto the kitchen bench as though it was a lifeline of sorts. He wanted to shut up, he really did. But his mouth began moving on its own account and he kept on talking, filling the air with nothing except for empty concerns. “What’s wrong?”

His father smiled, one void of joy, and shrugged. “I’m not sure…I was hoping you would have an idea.”

Kibum shuffled nonchalantly towards the doorframe, awkwardly shaking his head in response to his father. “Nope…Afraid I don’t. You’ll have to figure this one out on your own, I think.”

Mere centimetres separated him and the other room, and Kibum tasted the bliss of his warm, empty bedroom on the tip of his tongue. Just one more step and he would be able to breathe again—

“Sit down, boy!” his father exclaimed, slamming a fist against the wooden table. Along with his temper, the man’s voice had risen significantly.

And so within seconds Kibum was sitting across from the older man, knees shaking beneath the surface and each exhale accompanied by bouts of unadulterated fear. “I really don’t understand what’s wrong.” he muttered pathetically, eyes locked on one particular dot of discolouration adorning the wooden table.

“What’s wrong,” his father spoke, fingers practically curling around themselves in anger, “is the fact that I just saw you, my son, holding hands with another…another man. Ringing any bells now, Kibum?” Disgust accompanied every other word, and although he probably should have felt scared, instead something in Kibum suddenly snapped and he felt his gaze narrowing in sheer anger.

He could have replied with an excuse. Some sort of made up jargon about how they both wanted to share the leash but couldn’t make a decision about it. But instead, all the anger which had been building up within Kibum seemed to break, a dam releasing every negative thought that had ever accumulated about his father.

“Why the hell have you been stalking me, huh?!” Kibum blurted, standing from his seat to glare menacingly at the older man. He seethed. “Surely you’ve got better things to do than watch me all day, right? Get a ing life, old man.”

His father’s voice was low, and when he stood, he seemed to simply loom over Kibum’s lithe frame. “Listen here, boy.” He spat. “You should be grateful I’m not kicking you out of the house after what you’ve done. Either you put a stop to this touchy business, or I will. Believe me, boy. I won’t have our neighbours going around thinking you’re some sort of .”

Kibum felt his heart drop at the mere word, and the balloon storing his pent up confidence unexpectedly popped leaving the boy speechless. He wanted to fight back. Say something about how he didn’t care what people thought of him. But in fear and weakness, he didn’t, instead sinking pitifully again into the chair below. “It’ll stop.” he muttered brokenly. “It’s just friendly skin-ship anyway, but whatever. It’ll stop.”

With a harrumph, the man nodded in satisfaction and sat back across from Kibum. “Good. And I’m warning you Kibum, I’m being serious. If I see or hear anything else about you and that…that boy…then you’re out of here. Got it?”

He nodded vehemently, making sure to keep his gaze firmly away from the stern one which looked back at him.

Sunday soon arrived, which brought Minho slumped against Taemin’s bedroom wall, looking dejectedly at his worn soccer shoes. “She didn’t even glance at me today during practice, Taem. I thought that maybe I’d have some type of chance with getting with her but…I guess Kibum was right. She doesn’t seem to be looking for a relationship at all.”

Jealousy burned in Taemin’s chest, but he willed his personal feelings to go elsewhere while he comforted his best friend. “Don’t worry too much about it, Minho. You just seem really infatuated right now, so maybe let your mind settle for a bit. In a week’s time, if you still feel the same…Then that’s when you start worrying.”

Minho hummed.

“And to be fair,” Taemin continued, “you did only start liking her after that little kiss. So if you wanna get over her then why not…just go kiss someone else?”

Laughing, Minho shook his head. “It’s a good idea Taem, but I’m not quite sure it’s full proof. We’re not going to any parties soon which means there’s no one wants to kiss me—“

“Sorry?” interrupted Taemin with a scoff. “You reckon no one would wanna kiss you if they weren’t drunk? Wow. That’s rich.”

With a smirk, Minho looked over at Taemin who sat beside him and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Who do you propose would then, huh? Besides any of the girls in Amber’s group though ‘cause they’re all either taken or just plain boring.”

Taemin laughed as though Minho’s words were the funniest joke he had ever heard. “Um, literally everyone?” he drawled, softly muttering under his breath, “And not just the girls.”

“Huh?” choked Minho. “Kibum’s dating Jonghyun, Taemin, like hell he’d wanna kiss me!”

Groaning, the younger of the two buried his face into his hands. “Not Kibum, you dunce. There are probably other guys at our school who like guys, Minho. They just might not be open about it.”

Feeling sheepish, Minho scratched the back of his neck and grinned stupidly. “Does that mean you’re included then?” At the innocent question, Taemin’s eyes practically bugged out of his head and he found himself hacking loudly on nothing but air.

“For the last time, Minho, I’m not gay!”

Minho hummed again, this time a tad louder. “I know that, Taem. I’m just saying that you’ve showed interest in a guy before. And if everyone wants to kiss me, then why should you be excluded?” his voice had a light, joking tone to it, but Taemin felt as though every organ in his body was compressing in on itself.

‘I’m not.’ he thought dryly to himself, purposely avoiding eye contact with the older boy.

But Minho wasn’t shutting up, eyes creasing in amusement as he continued to prod and poke Taemin where unknowingly, it hit hard. “I should just kiss you! You can figure out if Kai was a fling or not and if I develop feelings for you…” Minho cackled loudly, his chuckles resembling those of a hyena. “Then I guess I could get over Amber, right?” The whole conversation was quite frankly, a joke, but gradually as Minho’s laughter increased, so did Taemin’s irritation.

As he made a move to interrupt however, Minho abruptly sobered, regarding Taemin with an air of seriousness. “Actually…that’s not a half bad idea.”

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, Taem! It’s not as though it’ll mean anything anyway, right? Look, it’s a win-win situation. I get over Amber, you figure out your uality phase, everyone’s happy.”

Taemin, with hands clenched tightly by his sides, huffed and began to stand from his position on the carpeted floor. “Phase? off, Minho.”

Eyes widening in realization, Minho shook his head vehemently. “No, , wait—No, that isn’t what I meant. C’mon Taem, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Do I?”

“Yes! Taemin…Come on…I just meant that this whole revelation is relatively new and you are still tryna figure everything out. Not ‘phase’ as in it will go away, but ‘phase’ in in…a segment of your life. Why are you getting so defensive, anyway? It’s just a little kiss, it’s not like it means anything.”

It does though, you idiot. Taemin wanted to scream. It means everything.

“Well why are you so eager, huh?!” is what he said instead. “Got something to tell me, buddy?”

Minho rolled his eyes and laughed sarcastically. “Ha ha, Taem. Very funny. But seriously, if you didn’t want to you could have just said. It was just an idea…Constantly thinking about someone who doesn’t like you back isn’t very fun, y’know.”

What are you doing, you idiot?! Yelled his conscience in desperation. This is your one chance to finally make a move, and he won’t even suspect a thing!

Swallowing thickly, Taemin nodded. “F-Fine then...We’ll go with your plan – as inane as it is. After all, it means nothing, right?”

“Exactly!” grinned Minho, lifting off the floor and brushing down his clothes instinctively. “Man, Taemin, you’re seriously the coolest friend.”

‘How ing stupid can he get?’ Taemin thought to himself with a snort. ‘Does he realise how gay this is?’ Rocking back and forth on his heels, the first year regarded Minho awkwardly. “Just so you know though…I have no idea how to go about this. I probably , considering how Kai reacted so just…Don’t expect much.”

Minho beamed, shaking his head in reassurance. “You’re adorable, Taemin…Don’t worry about, m’kay? It’ll be fine.”

“Alright…” he mumbled quietly, shuffling closer to Minho with cheeks as bright as rose. “You’re not gonna pull a Kai on me, I hope.”

Scoffing as though offended, Minho shook his head. “Do I look like that much of a douche? No, Taemin. Besides,” he grinned mischievously, and Taemin had to physically force himself to breathe so he wouldn’t start to hyperventilate. “I can’t punch myself for something that I started, right?”

Taemin’s throat went dry, and as Minho’s face neared his with that constant, carefree expression lingering there, the words he mechanically chanted in his head were the only thing keeping him from fainting then and there.

It means nothing, it means nothing, it means nothing.

His chest struggled to contain the heavy breaths which filled them, and Taemin unconsciously swiped his sweaty palms on the denim of his blue jeans. Legs wobbled from their place beneath his body, the warm breath from Minho’s lips doing nothing to calm the boy’s ever-building nervousness. This waiting, this anxiety. It was all too much for Taemin. So in a spout of foolish bravery and recklessness, he leaned forward, kissing the older boy square on the mouth before he even had the opportunity to protest.

And he expected a punch to the face, he really did. Even going so far as to tense his body in preparation for it. But, to Taemin’s astonishment, the punch never came. Instead, with what seemed like even more eagerness than Taemin himself possessed, Minho kissed him back, hands moving to Taemin’s barely noticeable biceps for support.

He fought down the desire to squeak and instead clenched his fists tightly from their position by his sides, dangling awkwardly as they struggled not to grab at the fabric of Minho’s shirt and pull him even closer. This was meant to be a test, Taemin reminded himself. It would certainly be strange if he came off as too enthusiastic.

But despite Taemin’s pessimistic thoughts on the matter, Minho was having none of it and pulled away chuckling softly. “I think this is only gonna work if you kiss back, Taem. No offence, but I feel like I’m kissing a brick wall.”

Immediate colour rose to Taemin’s cheeks, and in embarrassment, he stared intensely at the floor beneath them. “S-Sorry, Minho. I’m not very good at this stuff…”

Minho grinned reassuringly, eyes creasing in mirth. “Think of it as practice or something. So that when you start liking someone, you can woo them with your awesome skills.”

Many questions still flooded Taemin’s brain, such as ‘why the hell is Minho so eager to kiss me?’ and ‘why does this seem a lot gayer than intended?’ but he shook them off to pay attention to what Minho was actually trying to say. And Taemin’s eyes widened in startling realization because if he was being completely honest… it was something awfully intelligent. Instead of acting like some immobile potato sack because he’s too scared of ruining the moment, Taemin should be taking advantage of Minho’s naivety instead and try to win the older boy over. Because if he could do anything to prevent Minho from going back to the awfully experienced Amber, then it was that.

Taemin nodded and raised his head marginally so that his eyes met Minho’s. The older male’s gaze was warm and kind, black eyes which seemed to simply sparkle golden when they fell upon Taemin’s lighter ones. And they reminded Taemin of everything – the day they met, their times in the dance studio, Minho protecting him and most of all, why he was falling in love.

It was with those thoughts that Taemin placed his doubts to the side and simply focused on the present, where the boy he liked genuinely wanted to kiss him despite the odd reasons why. “Alright…” he mumbled softly to himself, straightening up and swallowing thickly in anxiousness.

It’s now or never.

“Ready to try again?” Minho spoke gently, an eyebrow raising in curiosity.

A smile graced Taemin’s features, and he lifted a hand to grasp slightly at the t-shirt over Minho’s chest. “Yeah.”

And they were kissing again, similar yet so different from the time before. Minho’s hands remained by Taemin’s shoulders, but as the younger boy tugged at Minho’s shirt with a sudden bout of fervour he lacked the time prior, Minho found himself squeaking embarrassedly in shock. However despite his initial surprise, Minho soon found himself entranced by their kiss, fingers moving to weave through Taemin’s hair without a care in the world. Minho simply ignored his hazy mind and tumbling stomach, satisfied that his idea was actually working. Because with Taemin’s lips on his and the soft feeling of his hair against Minho’s hands, Amber didn’t even seem to exist, a mere memory that Minho was happy to dispose of.

Confidence had begun to flood through Taemin’s veins, and in a brave move of desire and perhaps desperation, he slipped his tongue through Minho’s lips in curiosity and bated his breath. But upon noticing that the gesture was immediately reciprocated, it seemed that the young dancer had nothing to fear, and instead focused on the situation at hand. His heart flamed with content, a quirk of the lips decorating his face as Minho’s nose nudged his.

He shouldn’t have. He really shouldn’t have. Yet as Minho’s hands tugged at his hair once again to deepen the kiss, and before Taemin could even comprehend his own actions, he found himself humming loudly in satisfaction – a small sound that left Minho freezing on the spot. Taemin paused and held his breath, not allowing his disappointment to show when Minho pulled away with wide eyes.

Minho stepped back tentatively, keeping his stunned gaze locked on Taemin’s. “R-Right…” he began, voice breaking slightly as he spoke. “Well um…Thanks Taemin…I-I think I have to go now though, alright? Luna’s p-probably worried.”

Blinking, Taemin nodded dazedly. “Okay…See ya then, I guess.”

Reassuringly, Minho flashed Taemin a grin, albeit a bit shaky. “You um…helped a lot, so um…yeah. Thanks, Taem. I-I’ll catch you later.”

And then Minho was gone, grabbing his jacket off the bed before practically sprinting downstairs, shouting a quick goodbye to Taemin’s parents before hopping into his car and speeding away. His breathing came erratically, and Minho ran a shaky hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down.

“What the just happened…” he muttered to himself, biting his lip consciously as he thought back on the event which had just occurred.

He wasn’t meant to enjoy it that much. His heart wasn’t meant to be beating that quickly. His cheeks weren’t meant to be that red. And most of all, he wasn’t meant to be thinking about his best friend in the way that he currently was.

“No, no, no, no! , no.” he ranted, grip tightening menacingly on the wheel. “I’m just messed up in the head right now. I’m just unconsciously thinking about Amber. I’m just…I’m just—“ Minho slammed the brakes upon pulling into his driveway and dropped his head onto the steering wheel in panic.  

Minho knew he hadn’t been thinking about Amber. He knew that very well.

‘What the was I thinking, suggesting something like that? Am I that stupid?’

Double checking that the windows were closed, Minho screamed loudly into his open palms. It wouldn’t have mattered if it were anyone else. But Taemin was his best friend. And when Minho’s mind replayed that kiss for the umpteenth time, causing him to feel things he knew he shouldn’t feel, Minho concluded that he had screwed up. Royally.

Minutes passed before Minho finally worked up the motivation to head inside, slumping onto the couch and burying his face into a nearby cushion.

“Minho, honey…What’s wrong?” came the worried voice of Luna, and Minho felt himself immediately relaxing at the warm tone. “Did something happen?”

“’M fine.” He mumbled, but the tremor in his voice told her otherwise.

He heard Luna sigh loudly before the couch sunk marginally with her added weight. “C’mon now, Minho. What’s happened?”

Begrudgingly, the tall boy rolled over, regarding his sister figure with a prickling behind his eyes. “Just something with Taemin.”

“Did you have a fight?” she asked softly.

Minho shook his head furiously. “No…I just—did something I shouldn’t have. But um, Luna? I don’t really feel like talking about it right now, if that’s alright?”

Luna smiled and sifted a hand through Minho’s dark brown locks. “That’s more than alright, buddy. But stop worrying too much about it, okay? Everything will turn out just fine, you wait and see. You usually make good decisions, Minho. So don’t be too harsh on yourself. Now…What did you want for dinner? Not chicken, I’m assuming? It’s finally our day off.”

The soccer player laughed loudly at that, glad that Luna had succeeded in cheering him up. He nodded in agreement. “Definitely not chicken.”

That same night brought Kibum and Jonghyun back to the bar, where somehow Kibum had convinced his parents to even let him out of the house. It had been a struggle, Kibum recalled with a slight grimace. His father seemed to shudder at every mention of Jonghyun, and although usually Kibum’s lying skills were easily above average, this time around there seemed to be a sort of added pressure.

Like usual, he’d gone with the alibi that he was working on the project with Amber, and although sceptical, his parents were relieved at the prospect of him hanging out with a girl rather than a boy. He’d held out for a long time, but apparently to Kibum, not long enough. He was still at school, living at home, without a job, and his parents had already begun to suspect that something was amiss. Part of him would like to profusely deny those accusations directed at him – the negative connotations which came with being a uality other than straight. But the other part, the majority, strongly disagreed. He wanted to hold Jonghyun’s hand in public whenever he felt like it. He wanted to openly flirt, and kiss, and properly introduce him to his parents. And so he denied nothing.

But as Jonghyun’s hand came to rest on his waist that Sunday night, it was the former section of Kibum’s mind that resulted in him flinching suddenly away. “Not here, Jonghyun.” he spoke, voice more forceful and angry than he’d expected.

Carefully, Jonghyun pulled his hand away and left it to hang by his side, face contorting into something less than joyful. His eyebrows and lips seemed to quiver, as though trying to force an understanding smile, but it wasn’t hard to notice that Jonghyun was in fact hurt by Kibum’s words. “A-Alright…” he muttered, fingers playing awkwardly with the hem of his shirt. “Anyway…I better go get ready so…cheer for me, okay?”

Kibum nodded, a smile still failing to grace his worn out features. Jonghyun sang like usual, albeit perhaps a little more shaky, and while Kibum probably should have felt guilty, his current mood couldn’t bring it within himself to care. And afterwards, when Kibum met with Jonghyun backstage, he found himself turning his head away when the older male leaned in for a kiss.

“Someone could see us.” he mumbled, but he knew as well as Jonghyun that the only people who could possibly see them back here was Jinki, Luna and on the occasion, Minho.

Jonghyun blinked and looking like a kicked puppy, stepped back an inch. “Kibum…we’re the only ones here.” he spoke softly, concerned.

“Just no, okay? You never know for sure.” Every word was another punch to the face, and Jonghyun stared hopelessly at the guitar in his arms.

He nodded to himself, presumably in reassurance. “Right, yeah, of course. Sorry, Kibum, I’m being reckless. I’ll drive you home, okay?”

Kibum sighed and ran a weary hand through his hair. “I’m gonna walk home tonight, Jjong. But we’ll see each other again soon, so don’t worry too much.”

“Don’t worry? Kibum, I don’t want you walking home alone at this time of night. It’s just a quick drive…”

“Jonghyun, I walked home fine by myself before we met, so stop stressing. I’ll text you when I get home, okay? See you later, babe.” Kibum gently patted Jonghyun’s shoulder in farewell before turning away to head outside, leaving Jonghyun to merely stare after him in hurt and confusion.

He slumped down into a nearby chair and exhaled loudly, refusing to meet Jinki’s gaze which regarded him with sympathy. “If it makes you feel any better,” his best friend began, taking a seat beside Jonghyun. “Minho was acting a little weird when he got home from a friend’s house today. Maybe he’s just upset because of something else. At school or something? It probably doesn’t even concern you.”

With a loud sigh, Jonghyun nodded. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, Jinki. I might head home for the night. Catch up soon, yeah?”

“’Course, Jonghyun. See ya later, buddy!”

“See you, Jinki!”

The night air was flush against Kibum’s face, and while half of him regretted not accepting Jonghyun’s offer for a ride home, the better half of him knew that it would only cause more trouble. He breathed into his palms and rubbed them together to stay warm, the gravelly cobbled path beneath him crunching under his feet. The torn look upon Jonghyun’s face had been hard to ignore, but although it was hurting the older boy, in the long run, Kibum knew it was for the best. Besides, it was just in public where Kibum was cautious of affectionate behaviour. In private, Jonghyun could be as touchy and as cuddly as he liked, and nobody would be able to stop them.

Well, at least that’s what Kibum thought…until he got home.

“Kibum.” His father had said sternly. “Your mother and I have been talking, and we’ve decided to ground you for the rest of the school year.”

Kibum blanched and looked at his father in fury. Had he heard right? “Are you kidding me?! What have I done this time?”

The man narrowed his gaze. “What we discussed on Friday…I’m serious about it, Kibum. I don’t want you and that Jonghyun boy interacting any more than you have to. The only time you’re allowed out of the house is for school. Is that clear, boy?”

“W-What about my project?! Or socializing on the weekends?” Kibum cried, feeling his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach at how dismissive he’d been towards Jonghyun. God knows how long it would be before they could see each other again.

“We have no problems with Amber coming here for the project. Your mother seems to think that we should let Jonghyun over too on the occasion, but don’t make me repeat myself, Kibum. If he so as much touches your arm, then he’s out of here for good. And you go to the same god damn school. Stop acting as though we’re depriving you.”

Kibum wanted to cry. They didn’t go to the same school. And Jonghyun certainly couldn’t go even a mere two minutes without touching Kibum, whether it be on his arm or waist or cheek. But at seeing his father’s cruel face looking back at him, Kibum could only nod pathetically, before promptly heading up to his room to sob.  

It was going to be a long rest of the school year.