Kibum tells Taemin he’s trending #1 on Naver like Taemin should be surprised; he isn’t. And he doesn’t care, either, that netizens are convinced the person he’s kissing on the cover of his album teaser is himself; it isn’t.

Even Taemin isn’t stupid enough to take ego quite that far. No, doing so would give too much away—too much that he doesn’t actively try to hide from the idol-hungry outside world but doesn’t care to share either. Taemin’s self-absorption, such that it is, will remain his and his alone as long as the success of what he does depends on the image of who he is.

An adorable maknae. Unfailingly polite. Endearingly shy when it comes to looking people in the eye and baring a little bit too much of his utter disdain. That’s where his less savory side comes to light. The Taemin that’s edgy and filled with a talent that’s wasted on his youth. The one who can release a song called “uality” on his solo album without anyone batting too many eyelashes. Taemin is a truly global star; he does what he wants because he can.

But not necessarily because he wants to. More recently Taemin can’t remember actually wanting anything. He dances and sings and smiles for the fans, for the camera, for the members—all when told and all without a second thought—but he doesn’t want because he can’t remember what it’s like to not have everything. Only having everything is like having nothing at all, to Taemin at least. And trending on social media is meaningless too, especially since no one seems to understand what’s really going on.

Press It is about lips, one pair against another—and Taemin’s against Kai’s.

That was Taemin’s idea, actually. Not necessarily because he wanted to, but because he knew he could. They used to fool around, the two of them trainees with all of the burdens and without all the fame, needing a release and finding it, for a time, in each other. There are few things in his life that Taemin can remember wanting more than he used to want Kai—or Jongin, as he was back then. Taemin suggests Kai as his partner for the album cover shoot for that reason, too. He isn’t sure he wants to want anymore—seems to realize somewhere deep within himself that he cannot continue to rise head and shoulders above the rest if things long forgotten are allowed to slowly surface again—but if anyone was going to show him how, it was going to be Kai.

And in a way, kissing Kai had ended up being exactly what Taemin meant it to be: a brush of lips that didn’t mean anything until Taemin allowed it to.

The photographer had had other ideas, though, because he'd read no passion in their embrace. “Let’s try something different,” he’d said as he instructed Taemin to straddle Kai’s thighs and lean in close. Too close, Taemin had felt—still feels, even now as Kibum waves his phone around mindlessly while Taemin sits in the van beside him and remembers. In that way kissing Kai was nothing like it should have been.

Taemin despises those situations, as a rule—the ones in which he has no control. It’s why he retains the cruel curl of his upper lip even when told to smile winningly, and why he dances with a little more flair than anyone else, even when forcefully reminded that he isn’t the only face on Shinee posters. Still, the long, familiar line of Kai’s neck, the involuntary parting of his lips when Taemin had been told to move toward him and for once had actually listened, the fluttering of Kai's eyelids when their mouths had touched, fitting together like a perfect puzzle—all of these had drawn Taemin in much further than he was ready for. They weren’t supposed to be all in each other’s space like that, and he hadn't liked it. He didn't like it now.

The photographer had called out his praises loudly, breaking the moment between them to rearrange Taemin’s position on Kai’s lap so that the two were sitting a little more intimately. “Put your arm around his neck,” the photographer had demanded. Taemin hadn't liked that either, but he'd caught Kai’s blush and did it anyway, just to see the other squirm. And it'd worked too, at least until the shoot had started once more. Then Kai had been all business; breathing deeply, banishing the faint pink that had dusted his cheeks, and obediently tilting his neck to highlight the cut of his jaw a little more. Taemin had followed Kai's lead; he'd felt his control slipping away again, but in that moment his mind blanked of any alternative.

Taemin has never liked the feeling of falling; strangely, he hadn't minded it then and he doesn’t mind it now.