You know that post where it's like "she said she could guess my favorite color. I don't have a favorite color, But when she said 'yellow!' it became my favorite color...now i see it everywhere" (I heavily paraphrased that)??? imo that's Minkey so.....(set in the same universe as Love Sick)

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“Hey...”

“Hmm?”

“What's your favorite color?"

"Don't have one."

Kibum squeezed his eyes shut as Minho sat up, jostling the bed beneath them. "Everyone has a favorite color, Bummie."

He was thankful for the surrounding velvety darkness of night for hiding his growing smile. "Everyone is a lot of people," Kibum wanted to say, "and I didn't know you spoke for them all." But, he bit back his retort when Minho let out an amused huff.

"Bet I could guess it."

Kibum shifted, rolling over to face Minho. The warm glow from the nightlight behind him gilded Minho's silhouette. He tucked his arm under his pillow as he smiled up at Minho, who was lying propped up on his elbows.

"Doubtful."

"We've been best friends our entire lives. I'm the best authority on Kim Kibum that there ever will be. What's my favorite color?"

"White," Kibum said without any hesitation. "You like the clean simplicity of it." Minho sighed and Kibum froze, his eyes widening. "What? Did I get it wrong?"

Minho shook his head as he settled back on his pillow, inching a little closer to Kibum. "No, it was exactly right." He found Kibum's hand in the darkness, lacing their fingers together before he kissed the back of Kibum's hand.

Smiling, Kibum squeezed Minho's hand. "So, what's mine?"

A moment of silence -- except for the soft sound of their mingled breaths -- stretched between them. Kibum could feel Minho's eyes on him as he thought. Just how serious was he taking this? He was about to ask, but when Minho took a deep breath, Kibum held his tongue.

"Yellow."

Yellow? Of all the colors he could have chosen, Minho picked yellow? Kibum blinked, about to correct Minho’s guess until he thought back to their childhood.

The roses.

The rose bushes between their front yards were yellow. He first met Minho there, peeking through the leaves and the thorns at his family’s car as they hauled their belongings inside their new home. Minho had spotted Kibum, watching him and his family, and he set the backpack in his arms down on the ground before he bounded over to where Kibum stood watching. He introduced himself with the brightest grin Kibum would ever see, and Kibum couldn’t help but return it.

Yellow adorned the walls of Minho’s childhood bedroom. It was covered by posters of movies and athletes, but the color still bled through, absorbing the sunshine seeping through the blinds. 

It was the color of the scarf Minho lent him one autumn’s day, when the wind was chilled and Kibum had lost his own at school. “Just give it back to me tomorrow,” Minho had said. They both forgot, but Kibum tucked it away, rediscovering it when Minho went away to college. It stayed under his pillow then, a constant reminder of Minho’s warmth, even in his absence. 

If sounds had colors, Minho’s laugh would be yellow. A garish, obnoxious yellow that made you smile whenever you heard it, and maybe even join in. His laugh was infectious in the best way...

Yellow was the color of the chamomile tea that Minho would bring to him in bed on Sunday mornings because he knew that he didn’t want coffee. There were even thin slices of lemon floating inside, just the way Kibum liked it.

All the notes Minho writes for him -- around the house, in his lunch, or when he is gone -- are written on yellow post-it notes. Little reminders about his day or stupid jokes to make Kibum smile...or even just a simple I love you...

Yellow. The color of warmth and happiness and sunshine and friendship and unconditional love. 

The color of Minho.

“Did...did I guess right?” Minho asked, his voice soft, sleepy, and adorably concerned that he had made a mistake. 

“Of course, you know me too well.” He hummed, seemingly pleased with himself. Kibum nestled his face deeper into his pillow and smiled. “For a second I thought you were gonna say it was pink.”

Minho scoffed. “That phase only lasted for a couple of weeks and ended when that girl you hated from fifth-year dyed her hair pink.”

“Oh right, I forgot about that.” Minho yawned, taking his hand out of Kibum’s hold to cover his yawn. “Get some rest, babe.” 

“You too,” he said through his yawn. 

Minho curled inward, resting his head on his arm. Kibum watched him for a moment, his own eyes drooping with exhaustion, before he reached out and lightly cupped Minho’s chin, caressing his jawline with his thumb. In response, Minho turned his head slightly, leaning into the touch, before his head rested back on his arm.

Once the soft, telltale snores came from Minho’s side of the bed, Kibum withdrew his hand and tucked it beneath his pillow. “Goodnight, my sunshine.”