Lights turned red.

Jongin stopped before the crosswalk and counted the passing cars. He clutched on the briefcase. Temperatures dropped as the moon began the nightly banquet. He felt a yawn creep from deep within his chest, up his throat, until it exited on his mouth. He covered it fast and thought that, maybe, dating wasn’t that bad.

He usually went out only for work, or if it was work-related. On his way home, he’d buy groceries and whenever he had some spare time, he’d take his dogs for a walk or laze in front of the TV. There was nothing special in his life and, while he had been sharing his home with his friend, Sehun, for the past couple of months, he hadn’t felt any different. It wasn’t that much of a nuisance, as they rarely met. Sehun got home around the time Jongin went to sleep if he got home at all during the night.

Lights turned green.

Jongin walked across the street.

He hadn’t fallen in love with Taemin. He couldn’t fall in love that fast for someone he barely met, but the physical attraction and the way the other made him feel, had confused him at first. Taemin was handsome, he couldn’t deny it. He wasn’t sure if it was someone he’d look at twice if they’d walk down the street since he appeared all doll-like at dinner. Then, earlier that day, he caught a glimpse of the everyday Taemin. Jongin liked it. However, all he had was the surface and, while he had been enjoying it immensely, he still had no clue of what was hiding underneath. At the same time, he feared Taemin might be thinking the same.

They were moving at a speed that was too fast for their human minds, crisscrossing all variables until the tapestry they had weaved became too dense to escape from without breaking something apart. Jongin knew it was because he was stuck in a routine. He loathed it.

He missed the festive summers of a thousand fireflies and autumn blues, of things that could have been and other what ifs. He missed the freshness of winter when he had no knowledge of what else moved in the background he called the world, a matter parallel with his dreams. He missed when he’d blossom in spring and be one of the many flowers swaying in the breeze, vivid and hopeful of a brilliant future.

Then, summer came again, and he’d follow the sun.

“Hello, Mr. Kim.”

Taemin bent slightly and appeared before him. He gave Jongin a smile, while his hands were at his back and the same three-color scarf was hanging from his neck. He lifted his upper body and stood there with a grey coat, black jeans and the same boots from noon. His hair wasn’t that much of a mess anymore and the subtle hint of concealer and lip balm made his entire face look healthy, not as if he spent half of the day in bed and the other half in pain.

“Hello, Mr. Lee.”

That year, Jongin was following the sun in mid-winter. It, somehow, succumbed at the tips of Taemin’s mouth and slipped between the cracks of Taemin’s orbs.

“Am I late?” Jongin shook his head. No, he was the early bird, as always.

At the meeting too, he was the first to take his seat, the first to give his presentation, the first to leave after they wrapped it up. He had always followed his path with confidence, but it wasn’t as easy when other people were involved. Jongin couldn’t expect anyone to keep up with him, yet, he couldn’t expect anyone to understand him either. He’d be the first to escape if he felt like they had been suffocating in the presence of one another. Mostly, if he felt he was the one responsible for it. He gazed into Taemin’s eyes for too long and thought it’d be best if he put aside his worries and enjoy the moment.

“Ready to go?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere special.” Jongin grabbed Taemin’s hand. It was warmer than he expected, smaller too, with two rings brushing against his palm.

“Special?”

Jongin tugged him. They quickened the pace across the street before lights would turn red again. Taemin glanced at Jongin, who was only looking ahead and smiling. “Special,” he repeated and glanced too down at Taemin.

The difference in height wasn’t drastic. It felt ideal: not too much and not too little. Jongin had to slightly tilt his head to face Taemin and Taemin had to do the same in the opposite direction, the simple gesture synchronizing when they exchanged glances, one in excitement, the other in doubt.

“And where is that, Mr. Kim?”

Jongin opened the door to the office building.

“Right in here, Mr. Lee.”

---

They headed to the elevator and talked about their recent encounter.

After Jongin left, Wonshik had informed Taemin about his relationship with Jongin, but Taemin still wanted to hear Jongin’s version. When he inquired further, Jongin’s explanation was similar to Wonshik’s, so he knew his friend was genuine. He still was unsure whether Wonshik’s, ‘he’s a great guy’ statement was true. He would praise anyone that had ever helped him out, no matter how small or big the favor. Jongin added more and more about his friend, and how he tried not to seem enamored with his old junior, made Taemin laugh.

He had been laughing too often around him. It made Jongin restless.

After abandoning the elevator, Jongin placed his hands over Taemin’s eyes and guided him using the rest of his body. He didn’t see the way Taemin’s smile dropped or heard his heart speeding up. If Taemin hadn’t been inspired enough to calm down his breathing, he might have hyperventilated. He was terrified, mostly because he was with a stranger, one vouched by his friend, but a stranger nonetheless. He hadn’t protested.

He hadn’t had fond memories of surprises.

Taemin cracked open Heechul’s skull as kids because his brother surprised him with a trip to the neighborhood playground. While playing, Taemin accidentally pushed Heechul. He lost his balance and fell on a rock. It was not his fault, they said. Taemin still blamed himself for it, mostly because he had been whining constantly to go to the playground for weeks, and spent every day afterwards at the hospital, by his brother’s side, full of guilt. Another surprise came in the form of his parents’ divorce, not long after his brother fully recovered. Heechul moved with his father, while Taemin, alongside his mother and eldest brother, moved back to his grandparents’ home. Another surprise had him emotionless for years. He didn’t like talking about that one. The worse probably came from his only boyfriend. He had trouble communicating with people since then, he admitted, but he still blamed half of it on his inability to act like, according to society, a functional human being.

Jongin took his hands away.

“Oh,” he exhaled, taken aback by the view.

A galaxy on earth, with arteries made of dust and clusters of cars, rotating on a black canvas. Here and there, twinkles signaled solar systems among the many stores, people as planets gyrating around their dominant star, and an explosion of color painted nebulae on buildings and ad boards. The wind caught up with Taemin’s imagination and put the scenery in motion through the waving of his scarf and locks.

“I come here often,” Jongin admired Gangnam at night from the top of the building. “It feels special, so I hope you like it too.”

“I do,” Taemin’s eyes lingered to the horizon, then shot up at the sky. “It’s weird but,” there was nothing. “The first thing that disappointed me when I came to the city for college was the night sky.”

“How so?”

Taemin turned from the void and back to Jongin, a little difficult to see him. He knew where he was, based on the faint outline of his body and the direction of his voice.

“I grew up in the countryside. Skies there are always honest.”

“Honest?”

“Have you ever seen a storm in an open field?” The buildings crashed and the world lit up, as Taemin focused ahead and transformed the landscape from a city ablaze into the sights of his childhood. “It’s terrifying.” The sky darkened, massive entities casting their shadows over the meadow. “The clouds and lightning are visible from afar. There’s no thunder, but you know it’s coming.” He saw himself as an 8-year-old. Every time he blinked, he could swear an electrical current crossed his eyelids and the tiny threads of hair on the back of his neck stood up. When his younger self had seen the impending nightmare, he dashed in the opposite direction. “So you run and run, try to hide, but you never know if you will make it on time.” The scene ended. Darkness swallowed everything again, as it returned to its initial state and Taemin thought it looked bleak in comparison. “In the city, when storms come, it’s too late. So there’s nothing to fear if you are forced into confronting that fear.”

“I don’t think the setting is at fault. Storms can scare anyone, no matter where they are.” Even if they weren’t mentally linked, from the way Taemin spoke, it was as if he had been next to that 8-year-old, just as in awe. “Confronting something doesn’t necessarily make you less scared of it, even if you defeat it.”

Taemin turned again to Jongin and was surprised to hear his answer.

“Are you afraid of storms, Mr. Kim?”

“I’m afraid of many things, Mr. Lee. Aren’t we all?”

“Indeed,” he came closer and his fingers brushed on Jongin’s, before they made their way up his arm and then gripped at Jongin’s shoulder. “I still miss the countryside skies, though. You could see the stars. Faintly, but they were there. Can you see them in the city, Mr. Kim?”

Jongin looked down. The distance between them narrowed as he pulled Taemin by the waist.

“I can see them,” he spoke softer than ever. “Right before me.”

Taemin’s eyes widened. Jongin hadn’t done anything other than speaking, with syrupy sentences nonetheless. So, he had two choices: make fun of Jongin and potentially ruin the shaky foundation they laid over the course of a day and a half or go along, match him in wit, as he had from the beginning, and see where it led. His novels usually took the second course, but anyone in real life would pick the first. It was the appropriate way. Taemin, on the other hand, went with the third option: he gripped on his other shoulder too and placed a feathery kiss on Jongin’s lips.

While their mouths moved momentarily, shyly, the heat made Taemin pull away fast. He staggered as far from Jongin as possible while rambling about how cold it was and how much he wanted a hot chocolate.

He didn’t see how dumbfounded Jongin remained in place, impaled by his heart.

---

Taemin got his hot chocolate. A creme mug rested between his palms as wisps of steam warmed his chin. Jongin got one too, extra-cream.

He didn’t care about their beverages as much as he cared for the shape of Taemin’s lips. Only then could he see they had a peculiar cut in the middle, enough to bring an element of uniqueness to the already fascinating man. He didn’t know if he should feel awful for not acting rougher and keep their kiss for longer, or, for not mentioning it after they left the building and searched for a café. He wasn’t expecting them to kiss so early either.

For once, Jongin was late. Inside too, at a corner table, he couldn’t concentrate fully on what Taemin was saying. He replied slowly.

“I was thinking,” Taemin blew air over his hot chocolate before he tentatively took a taste, only to make a grimace and put the mug aside. It was still too hot. “I was thinking about our third date.”

“About that,” Jongin didn’t bother to check his drink. If Taemin’s hadn’t cooled down, there was a small chance his would have. “I’m flying to Singapore the day after tomorrow.”

Chanyeol begged him. He stopped him in the hallway before he left to meet Taemin and almost dropped to his knees. They were working on the same contract, just that Chanyeol was supposed to attend a Conference that might prove useful for future endeavors. Fate had it that Seulgi, his fiancée, proposed they meet her parents in the same week. Someone still had to go to the Conference. Jongin couldn’t stand seeing him in that desolate state after he had been a wreck the entire day, so he accepted immediately. Therefore, everything he had in mind for the following days, crumbled. His plans shifted more often than for most and he should have become accustomed to it, but with Taemin in the picture, he wished they hadn’t.

 “When are you coming back?”

“Tuesday morning, most likely.”

Taemin brought the mug to his mouth again. “I have a book signing on Wednesday.” He sipped the hot chocolate, then, after he made sure the temperature was right, he bravely took a gulp.

“Want to make it a date?”

“If you feel like it. I presume you’ll be jetlagged, Mr. Kim.”

“Nonsense. Also, I have never been to a book signing. Should be fun.”

“Or boring.”

Jongin gulped from his hot chocolate too. “Or our third date.”

Taemin giggled.

“Or our third date.” He wanted to ask Jongin if he picked his novel, but it was of no use. He probably hadn’t.

Taemin suddenly regretted kissing him, a regret he washed away with the sweetness of the hot chocolate.