a/n: I ended up writing two different types of epilogue; this one was initially part of the main story but was incomplete and didn't fit anywhere so I finished it and added it up as the first epilogue. Sorry for the delay ^^'

Taemin’s manager didn’t like fan-sign events. But Taemin anticipated them, cherished them. It wasn’t just because he found meeting his fans heartwarming. It was also because certain memories lingered around him when he sat in that familiar setup. Memories that filled his heart with an overflowing yet peaceful emotion.

Memories of how he first met Minho, memories of the time he had realized his heart was no longer his, memories of the time that he had asked Minho for his.

It was also because...Minho was always there, standing in the queue, waiting for his CD to get signed even when he could have gotten it signed before everyone else, in someplace else, a space that was entirely his and not shared with so many fans. But perhaps he liked this space, this space that he shared with everyone, this space in which he knew he would stand out to Taemin. Maybe it was because this space was one of the few in which he could display his affections unrestrained by the presence of others, through his patience, through little gestures, through that smile, those bright eyes that conveyed more than words ever could.

Taemin could feel his love in such moments, softly colliding with his entire existence, filling him with bliss, rendering him deeper into love.

And that was why he wished to do the same, to make him feel the same. To make it known that he loved him that much, maybe more. But it was hard because of how mismatched their schedules were and how much his manager was against it, saying that a global star like him appearing on a budding actor’s sets would just cause nothing but chaos.

His manager’s words were reasonable but whenever Taemin was free and Minho was caught up in a schedule, he was tempted to go and watch. Not only because he wanted to support him but also because Minho was a sight to behold when he was immersed in work, exuding so much charm, wearing expressions Taemin probably hadn’t ever seen him wear. But he was the most charming when he smiled brightly when he looked at him. His eyes...they had something they never had when he looked at others...and knowing that, made Taemin’s heart so pleasantly warm and restless.

So there he was, partially heeding his manager’s words, obscuring his identity with a nose mask and huge frame, letting his hair fall over his eyes to cover the rest of his face. He dressed in simple clothes so he could blend into the staff. He parked his car a bit away from where the shoot was taking place (it was an outdoors shoot) and followed one of the staff from a distance so he wouldn’t lose his way. It was a long walk but Taemin regretted nothing. Minho was before him, some distance, some cameras, some people separating them. But Minho was before him, within his sight.

Taemin’s eyes softened and he retreated into another spot from where he wouldn’t interrupt the shoot and would still be able to watch. They were probably taking a break in between but Minho was ready, chatting with someone, probably waiting for the shoot to resume.

Taemin felt something wet and cool on his head and he looked up, closing his eyes instantly to the droplets that had begun to fall, quickly turning into a shower. He looked ahead and took one of the umbrellas a staff member was circulating. The entire set was now drenched, the equipment covered quickly before being moved away. Taemin opened his umbrella and stood there watching, ignoring the angry shouts of “Who said the weather was clear today?!” that were breaking the soft, continuous sounds of rain. Minho and the actor had taken cover under the nearest shade, a shelter in that park that dropped shade over a bench and a couple of vending machines.

Taemin was closer to the track, to the trees that were surrounding that open area the shoot had been taking place in. It was slowly emptying, the shoot wrapping up, people calling for each other to tell them that they would continue another day. Along with everything else, that had blurred along with the rain, Minho was still in his sight, but he was distinct despite the strong drizzle, looking somewhere else, greeting the people that passed him by and left.

His company left as well when a staff came to them with an umbrella and Minho denied the offer to return with them and stayed watching the rain fall from before him. He checked his phone before he looked at the pouring view ahead of him. He sighed at the soft breeze that set the strands of his hair in motion, closing his eyes to the little droplets that flew with it onto his face. And when he had opened them, someone was standing before him, under an umbrella, shifting it slightly to reveal themselves.

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