Prompt by Myzashawol:

Separation is never easy but it is written in our love story

Well, I just want to clarify that this IS a love story. Even though there's not much love in it.

Minho came into the school like a bolt out of the blue, second year of high school and in the middle of semester of all that. Nobody expected him. But no, he was not a troubled kid, their homeroom teacher reassured, and of course everybody was reassured when he came in and introduced himself. His face was too innocent, kindness written all over his handsome face, also he had a perfect height for girls their age.

Although it seemed like everybody was not paying him any attention, the wide smile that was on his face made Taemin spoke up for the first time in a while. It made everyone turned their face to the existence of Lee Taemin, who was known to be the quietest kid in the world.

"You can sit here," he offered.

Please be my friend, Minho thought to himself, please don't be like others.

With that big, warm smile he jogged to the back of the class where his new friend sat. He wrote a small thank you for letting him sit beside him with a small chocolate ball candy. Taemin returned his smile with the simplest smile he could manage and Minho could see that he was going to trust this kid.

Taemin was a quiet kid, an avid fan of One Piece, he read so many comics, also he liked weird things, and oh, he loved scary things. Minho had learned it all in quite some time. Their friendship began with Taemin's awkward 'let's go eat lunch' and 'where is your house? we can walk home together' that very first day. After few seasons passed, Minho realised that he was lucky, that he should be thankful that Taemin was exactly what he hoped for, a good friend, albeit quiet, but he was an understanding one, and he grew respect him for many reasons.

"Do you like writing, Minho?"

He couldn't answer that, because he didn't really into it. It just something he found necessary for him yet interesting once in a while.

"You should try it. Make poems, stories, anything."

Reading was his hobby, he liked seeing words in those tidy paragraphs. He loved picking up new vocabulary to his little note with an explanation to each of them. Taemin seemed to notice his growing behaviour.

"I mean, it's worth trying. You can write about anything, such as the school, the weather, the empty street you always fond of. Or maybe about us, about me, anything."

Minho really contemplating it the moment his best friend mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow he would try it. Poems could be good, if not short story. He had some idea, he had words to say to Taemin, like how thankful he was or how lucky he was to be able to know him. Despite Taemin's lack of communication with him, he didn't hate it at all. Even he liked it the best. It was rather comfortable.

"You take it as a challenge, I believe," he chuckled a bit, and Minho with no hesitation nodded.

So Minho started to write, putting words in one sentences after another. There were traces of his ideas all over his books, if Taemin could reach into Minho's pocket, then he could probably find a crumpled paper jumbled with words. It was adorable seeing his friend finding a new hobby beside reading. And the later seemed to enjoy every second of it. Seeing Taemin's impressed face when he show a small paragraph was a bonus. His heart did somersault when Taemin said he was talented. Nobody ever complimented him.

They were playing with their game consoles in Taemin's house, victory easily went to Minho who was godly good with the games. Taemin was busy cursing lowly, shouting unfairness to Minho's face whenever the taller got the grip of their game too easily. Minho probably the only one who ever saw this side of Taemin.

No, Minho probably the only one who ever saw his wide smile, his sparkling eyes when he talked about his favourite manga, maybe he was the only one who got to see Taemin's comical face when he told him stories. Nobody had seen a Taemin who would feed a stray cat and got frustrated at it because the cat followed him home. Minho probably the only lucky one who could hear the cute laughter he had when they got too excited for something.

That was why, after their game session, Minho gave out a book Taemin had never seen before.

"Is this it?"

My first work, Minho admitted awkwardly.

Taemin opened and started to read right away even when Minho insisted that he should read it when Minho was gone. But stubborn Taemin was stubborn, Minho couldn't win him. So he watched, observed, nervously waited for Taemin's feedback on his first short story.

"You are a hidden gem."

Those five words flew Minho up to the sky, something in him ignited by those sincere compliment Taemin threw on his face. There was a beautiful emotion projecting on the later's face, an expression he wished to see when Taemin read his first ever child. Romance, he wrote about romance, about a boy falling in love with a girl who was a total complete of his personality. And how he secretly kept his feeling all to himself and never got to tell him. A love story that was pathetic but understandable. It was one beautiful story of first love.

If asked, where he got his inspiration, he surely going to create thousands of fake stories to cover it up. That the truth was, it was about him. The least favourable guy in the world falling in love, ever so wrongly with his own friend.

"It's sad though," Taemin put a tight lipped smile.

It supposed to be, Minho sighed deeply. The sky outside was opal, with burst of aquamarine and tint of orange hue, the sun was retiring and it was his cue to go home. With a proud heart, he smiled at Taemin and promised him to write more. One good thing about Minho that he himself could claim was that he was good at keeping promises. Thus he started to write again, and again.

As the time went by, writing had become a part of him, his need. He wrote to lock the happiness he was feeling, to keep his sadness away, to venture a lot more emotional ride he had experienced. He wrote his heart and soul and things he couldn't say. It became something that meant the most to him.

And as he watched Taemin barged into his apartment with a beautiful smile, favourite coke in tow, he knew he mostly wrote because of that person. Minho was grateful, Taemin was the one who had seriously suggested this addictive hobby, and for that push, he was now on his way to publish a book.

Years had passed, they grew older and wiser. Minho had taken a course for writing and language, decided that it was not a bad idea developing his talent. Taemin had been very supportive about this, he jumped in glee for him. The laughter he had was contagious and nobody seemed to know this side of Taemin. Even after years, Minho was the only person Taemin had opened up to. Or maybe it was the opposite, Taemin had knocked the door to his heart.

"You know my graduation ceremony next week," Taemin threw himself on the couch, not minding the impassive face of Minho, "I have to give a speech. Valedictorian."

Minho cocked his eyebrow slightly. That was a news.

"Make one for me, a good one."

He tilted his head and Taemin glared at him, "Or I will not read your ongoing book."

Minho came to the graduation ceremony, nervously he sat in the family section next to Taemin's parents. They were in different college, so he couldn't point who's who in the crowd. He didn't have any other friend other than Taemin, but he knew few of Taemin's friends because he only had like five loyal friends. Since he was limited to the expression of Taemin's friend, he looked at the general faces.

Taemin was reading words after words, the smooth voice was beaming throughout the hall. He, by the heart, had memorised them even though he wasn't going to stand in front of them all. His heartbeat was deafening in his ears as the speech went on and on, meaningful words shared religiously.

In all honesty, Minho wanted Taemin to keep reading his words out loud, for forever maybe. Didn't he know that they would sound so majestic.

He envied him.

There was a proud smile on Taemin's face as he closed his speech, "This speech was written by a young, talented writer and best friend of mine, Choi Minho."

A faint gasp escaped his mouth, Taemin's eyes crinkled in happiness, mouth parted in a wide laugh, followed by a ceremonious throwing hats that he led. Choi Minho would always be amazed by Lee Taemin, he had written it down, deep inside his heart.

He was sleeping when someone knocking his door down, it was in the middle of the night and he was sure he didn't expect any visitor. With his sleepiness and a bit of annoyance, he opened the door to a drunk Lee Taemin. He squinted his eyes, trying to fathom what occasion his friend decided to knock on his door.

"Minho, I've read your book."

And was he drunk because he read his book?

"Why are you so good? I'm so happy," Taemin lurched at him and they fell to the ground with a loud thud, Minho trying to stop Taemin's head hitting the hard floor.

Taemin was fast asleep, and he was smiling all too widely in his arms. As the silence covered the apartment once again, Minho let out a sigh. The smile on Taemin's face was what inspired him to write, he wrote about it thousands of time, his fluffy hair, his cute pout whenever he talk animatedly, and everything about him. Yes, after words he had ever written down, he found himself a fact that he loved Taemin.

What was not fair in Minho's life came unexpectedly fast. Taemin visited him with a wide grin etched on his face, his eyes twinkled all too brightly at him, but it wasn't Minho who made him smile like that. The huge grin wasn't for him, not anymore.

"I am in love, Minho, I see flowers every where I go."

The jealousy was there, prominent and strong in his heart, slicing the already open wound of not able to have Taemin the way he wanted to. His tongue got tied at how cheerful his friend was when he talked about this girl.

"Her name is Ahreum, pretty name, huh?" Taemin smiled dreamily, "just as beautiful as her face."

Breathing was hard for Minho for quite some time, yet the heaviness in his chest never once deceased. Worse, it gained and built up until he deemed it right to pour it into pages of sad story plot, writing them with tears pooling on his eyes. He was introduced to the lucky girl once, and she was bright, caring, lovely too. They looked good standing next to each other. He just couldn't imagine him and Taemin side by side, people would judge him even more.

And when Taemin slipped a bit about his plans with Ahreum in the future, Minho felt sorry, guilty too, because he couldn't return his pretty smile.

Oh, thought Minho, why is it hurt so badly?

At twenty five Minho had finished the second book of his trilogy. It was about a boy who fell in love and a boy who never returned a love. The books were well accepted. Everyone could relate to the story at some point and the feeling written in the book was raw, honest and yeah, relatable. Reality was not as beautiful as what's written in the fairytale or other happy ending story.

"I've read the two books and now the on going chapters to your third novel."

He halted his typing and glanced up at Taemin.

"You're great," he mused, "it is awfully real. And you know how to make people... feel."

Shrugging his shoulders, he paid attention to his notebook again. He was trying not to read Taemin's expression, for he afraid. What if-

"Minho, look at me."

His wary eyes found purchase on Taemin's clear eyes and there it was, the little spark he felt- which he was sure Taemin could feel it too, because the gasp that escaped from Taemin's lips and the goosebumps on hos arms told him everything.

"You're not-"

Yes, he cowardly answered inside his head. Didn't he need to hear the full question, he knew what was it about. And Taemin didn't need to hear the answer because it was all written on Minho's face.

"But I'm not," the voice cracked at the end.

Minho then wrote again, and again, and again, and before he knew it the words piling up into another chapter. They stayed silent, like it'd always been when Minho was concentrating. Minho wrote to keep his sadness away, to keep the pain at bay, he wrote the happiness while it last because he knew some of them would not stay. And today, was probably the start of it.

It was not about you, Minho assured Taemin.

Yes, it wasn't. It was never about you. He assured himself.

"It wasn't?" Taemin's expression unreadable, it was either a sigh of relief or something else he didn't let his head imagine.

He hid his face under the thickness of his sweater, trying to hide the pulsating vein in his neck. Again, for the umpteenth times, he felt as if being crushed down by tons of metal.

"It wasn't. Okay," Taemin said.

Okay. Minho nodded, okay.

But he wasn't okay. He wasn't. And he never would.
He wasn't okay.

And Minho kept writing, he kept typing, he kept pouring his mind out. All of it in attempt to numb himself. He aimed to fade away.

Counting, he was counting the days. One month ago Taemin came to him, "Be my best man."

The least he expected was Taemin marrying Ahreum this fast. They knew each other for only eight months, minus the nine weeks where they befriended each other in a project, yet the two of them were serious about their relationship.

She was beautiful, he met her sometimes with Taemin, she was caring and sweet. She was overall lovely and charming, he understood why Taemin was into her. As bitter as it felt in his tongue, he had to admit that she was a perfect match for Taemin.

However she didn't understand Minho, not in the slightest.

"She'll learn by the time," Taemin whispered in his ear nervously. Minho ran his finger to the perfectly styled hair, fixing the crooked neck tie and brushed away the invisible speck of dust on Taemin's tux. He smiled simply at him, the stunning man in front of him.

"I will make sure of it. I promise to make her learn about you. And then we can hang out together. We will get along well. I know it, Minho."

He took a bravery out of his pocket and cupped both of Taemin's cheek, and he smiled. Despite him bleeding inside.

Taemin took a deep breath, "You're my very best friend. I don't have to say it out loud, right?"

Minho nodded.

"You're the only best friend I have. Only one, and that's you."

Minho nodded.

"Thank you for everything, for being here beside me for so long."

Minho nodded, though he knew it was Taemin who worth the gratitude.

"You haven't written anything," he stated.

Minho nodded again.

"Do what you're best at, Minho, don't stop." Taemin stared at him.

You should not think about anything else, Minho said. Think about her, about your wedding, about the future you dream of with her. Don't think about me- no, do think about me. I am here for you, supporting you in your big day. I want you to be happy.

But Minho honestly tired of fighting with his inner self. Look at me, look at how I see you, look at me. I love you like you love her, like you love me. Don't think of her, think of me. Please smile at me like the old days, smile at me like you smile at her. Embrace me like you embrace her.

He wanted to say all that, but he couldn't do it.

"Promise me you will keep writing."

I want you to see me, that was what Minho wanted to say, but instead he gave him a promise.
I promise.

When the time for Minho was up, he stood for a speech. Before, he only wrote, he always wrote, but never spoke. Not once he read the speeches he wrote for people or read aloud in front of people. Because he always wrote it down on his communication book.

Minho lifted his hand up and signed his every words for Taemin slowly, to the audience at the reception.

Congratulation, Taemin. I love you. I wish nothing but the best for you. My next book will be for you.

Everyone was quiet, looking attentively at Minho.T here was tears prickling the groom's eyes as he smiled and signed back at Minho.

Thank you Minho. I love you too.

Minho wrote, he wrote because he couldn't speak. He had never been able to speak at all, his entire life.

Minho wrote, he did it to keep himself away from sadness, to keep his pain at bay, to keep himself content. He did finish his third book on the trilogy. If the first book about a boy fell in love, the second one about a boy who never returned love, his third book was about a boy who was learning to live, learning to fall in love, and learning to let go.

But he never published it.

He kept it in a folder, kept it in his heart.

 Phew, I have no idea that this prompt would make me write this kind of story. Thank you for the nice idea.

I hope this is right to your liking, readers.

I've gathered all the prompt, noting it down and counted them. There are 27 prompts (similar idea has been put up together). I don't know if I will write to them all, I will only write to your idea when it gives me an inspiration to write.

I hope I can make it all even if it takes a lot of time.

And I have good news to share, I am now officially a doctor yeaaay! Congrats to me! I will always be a long life learner and do my best to cure and comfort.

Lastly, please leave a comment, anything!

Hugs,

aqcelnicorus :D