Let me, O let me bathe my soul in colours; let me swallow the sunset and drink the rainbow.

“Hyung?” Taemin calls out, when he comes back home with Minho. “Kibummie-hyung, where are you?”

“He’s not there?” Minho asks.

“He’s not there.”

“Call him.” Minho suggests.

Taemin slides his phone out, and dials the only number he knows by-heart.

“Hello?” a female voice answers.

Taemin narrows his eyes. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Are you calling for Kibum?” the woman asks.

“Yes, I am. Who is this?”

“I’m Tiffany,” the woman says. “Bummie’s colleague. Who are you?”

“Lee Taemin. His roommate. Why is his phone with you? Is he at work?”

“Well, duh. He’s at work. I don’t know where he went, though. Jonghyun dragged him off somewhere. Why? Is it urgent?”

“No, it’s not… I was just wondering. Thank you. Could you tell him I called? Tell him to call me back, please.”

“Sure!” Tiffany hangs up.

“He’s at work.” Taemin says sullenly. “With Jonghyun.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Minho asks. “He’s trying to get back to normal.”

Taemin glares at the general direction of Minho’s voice. “Normal? Normal? Don’t you dare-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t get mad at me,” Minho says, and takes a step forward.

Taemin rubs a hand over his face. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about him. I know him, Minho. I know Kibum, and he doesn’t like feeling dependent on anyone. And now… he has to depend on a random stranger for his life. He won’t like it.”

“Taeminnie,” Minho says, not knowing how to reply to this. “He’s going to be fine.”

“I know.” Taemin says firmly. “I had a great time today.” He says, remembering their time together.

They had gone to the dance studio, where Taemin had shown Minho his latest dance routine with his dance partner, Kai. Minho had been confused as to how Taemin learnt such complex dances even though he couldn’t see, and Taemin had explained that Kai and him collaborated and choreographed the dances themselves. Minho had tried very hard to hide his obvious desire for the younger boy, as he watched Taemin’s smooth waves, his powerful popping and those perfectly controlled limbs.

Later, sweaty and flushed, Taemin had accompanied Minho to the corner café for a coffee.

“You’re an amazing dancer.” Minho had said when their coffees had come.

Taemin had blushed, and he stammered out a thanks. “I mean it. You should be famous, or something.”

“Famous?” Taemin had scoffed. “And blind? I don’t think so.”

Later, Minho had taken Taemin to the beach, where Taemin dug his feet into the sand, where he stood