It began at breakfast, yet another part of his life. This time, it was unlike any other day because Kibum hasn’t had many experiences of being served breakfast at the place he had spent the night. Well, that was the very premise of a bed and breakfast, but Kibum was not in any such establishments. No, he was in the bed of the man he has been seeing for a couple months now.

The smell of batter cooking in butter and the sizzling sound from the pan were decidedly very pleasant to wake up to. The promise of a long day ahead of doing absolutely nothing and yet, making the most out of it, sweetened the experience even further. That is why waking up this early on a Sunday did not make Kibum want to roll over and just find sleep between the cozy, warm sheets again.

Kibum pouted at the fact that his company had left him to wake up alone, but then his stomach reminded him to be grateful that the other had. He sat up, enjoying the feeling of the silky cover of the comforter sliding off his skin. Simple pleasures, although there was nothing simple about silk sheets.

He dressed himself up with only the bare minimum, his choice being a pair of fresh boxers from the dresser and the blue silky pajama shirt hanging on the edge of the bed, leaving it ed. Neither articles of clothing belonged to him, but it could have for the way they fit him almost perfectly, save for his slender shoulders that were a tad too narrow for the shirt.

He peered through scrunched up eyes out the large window panes that made up the wall beside the bed. Thank goodness someone decided to put a small park right outside one of the tallest apartment complexes in Seoul. The view from this height down on the fiery red and orange leaves that were making way for the skeletons of winter was breathtaking.

For a moment, the peace of the golden sky and chirping birds kept him rooted in his place. Then came a rumble from his stomach to force him up and out of bed.

Kibum grabbed his bag of toiletries from the same dresser he had found the boxers and went about his usual morning routine, paying no special care to any of it as his mind was elsewhere, replaying the past few days.

He couldn’t have wished for a better outcome from a very cliché coffee shop meeting.

By the time he was done in the bathroom, the kitchen was taken over by a new symphony of pans and silverware clanging. He threw his bag of toiletries on the bed and left the room, sliding the heavy wooden door shut behind him as he headed towards the kitchen.

There he was, blue pajama pants hanging low on his hip and above it, lightly tanned skin, the remnants of summer, exposed in all its glory as he cleared away the ingredients he had used for the pancakes off of the counter. There was no rhyme or rhythm to his method. He went back and forth between putting things in the sink and opening the fridge multiple times instead of just leaving it open to move everything back. On the kitchen island were two plates with a small stack of steaming pancakes each and honey dripping down the sides of it, accompanied by the juiciest looking strawberries and blueberries.

Minho was extremely confident in preparing breakfast, his favourite meal of the day apparently. Kibum would approve of his skills in a heartbeat. Although it was just simple pancakes today – likely because they have obliterated other groceries over the course of three days – they were still the best-looking ones Kibum had ever laid eyes on.

“Kibum-ah, you’re up!”

Minho’s temperament was chirpy as it always was in the mornings. He finally caught Kibum leaning against the doorframe and stopped his activities to greet Kibum. Kibum was sly as he crossed his arms on his chest while approaching the high seat closest to him at the kitchen island. He climbed onto his knees atop it, leaning forward on his elbows till he was right above the plates and across Minho. The taller man closed the refrigerator door and came to the kitchen island as well, leaning with his palms on the edge of the counter as he met Kibum’s gaze just as craftily.

“I was just wondering if your magic works on spinach and artichokes the way it does on pancakes…”

Minho huffed, moving to mirror Kibum’s pose on the counter, bringing their faces much closer together but still too far apart for Kibum’s liking.

“Was that a challenge?” Minho asked, tracing a finger along Kibum’s jawline, drawing small circles close to his earlobes and then back to under his chin, repeating the patterns mindlessly.

“Just curiousity about your talents….”

“Sounds like a challenge to me…”

“Take it whichever way you like,” Kibum had been tricked into stillness as he anticipated Minho’s lips on his. He catches his own showcase of eagerness a little too late and quickly covers it up by pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, acting coy.

“One of these days I’m going to find a way to get them into a muffin or something and feed ‘em to you,” Minho answered him, his thumb on Kibum’s chin now, releasing his bottom lip and parting them slightly.

God, he really hasn’t felt this giddy since high school.

“Well, good luck with that then,” Kibum gave up the chase, sticking his tongue out at the other childishly.

Kibum reached for a fork and a knife from the cutlery stand and settled back on his folded legs on the chair, pulling a plate to himself and digging in unceremoniously. He chose to pointedly ignore Minho as retaliation as he seated himself beside Kibum.

“What time do you have to leave today?” Minho asked. Kibum looked up from his pancakes, mouth still full. He covered his mouth with a hand – knowing he looked dainty when he did that but unwilling to be caught with bits of food all over his mouth – as he answered that he did not have anything else planned for the day.

“Good,” Minho said, smirking. He stood up to fetch them both a mug of coffee each, adding way too much sugar in Kibum’s while he drank his completely without any. Kibum’s mug had a giraffe on It that he found amusing, while Minho’s simply had the word Boss on it in capital letters. For a classy kitchen, Minho had the most random choices of mugs in his cabinet.

They finished their breakfast in silence, save for a few quips about what they could do today. Maybe grocery shopping for the next week. Or a trip to the farmer’s market. Maybe lunch downtown and then a karaoke bar afterwards.

“Maybe you could follow me to the gym. They offer free beginner Jiu Jitsu lessons every first Sunday of the month. I’ve never gotten around to actually trying it…” Minho suggested, to which Kibum rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

“Why? So you can watch me try and fail at it for an hour?”

Minho laughed, throwing his head back. Kibum watched him through squinted eyes, waiting for the teasing he’s going to get. Minho pushed his plate away, having finished his breakfast, and turned to him.

“Yah, you’re stronger than you let on,” Minho said, mirth in his eyes as he pointed down at his own left hip where a light blue bruise was just forming. Kibum suddenly found the almost empty plate very interesting, picking at the last strawberry as he cursed his probably very rosy cheeks right now.

“Yeah well, I don’t think contact sports are for me,” Kibum admitted, trying to change the subject.

“And you’re surprisingly very graceful. You’d be great at it,” Minho insisted.

“Surprisingly?” Kibum cocked an eyebrow as he repeated the word in a flat tone. Minho shrugged, leaning back in his seat and twirling it side to side. Kibum unfolded one leg from beneath him and used it to kick Minho’s shin, causing the other to bend forward in pain.

“Yah Choi Minho, I told you I was a dancer.”

“I haven’t seen it with my own two eyes yet.”

“Well you’re getting closer to not being able to see anything at all,” Kibum warned while being pulled reluctantly onto his feet by the other’s hold on his wrists. Minho slid his hands under his own pajama shirt on Kibum, pulling him closer and the reluctance was all forgotten. Kibum, in turn, wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders naturally as if he had been doing this his entire life.

“See, you were meant for contact sports,” Minho remarked, his breath ghosting over Kibum’s chest. Kibum rolled his eyes again, tugging on Minho’s ear playfully before moving to cup his face in the palm of his hands. He leaned down deliberately, expecting Minho to back away just to more but rejoicing when he didn’t.

The measured kiss that followed was a mix of everything Kibum could and could not have imagined it would feel like. It was familiar, like a feeling he had known from a watching romance in a movie. But it was also foreign in the way it made his heart pound in his chest erratically. The taste of honey mixed in with Minho’s scent and just the languid dance of their lips made his brain go haywire in ecstasy. He only hoped he had the same effect on the other because it hardly seemed fair that only he received so much from so little effort.

Minho’s soft sigh as their lips parted indicated that the feeling was mutual.

“Or we could just stay here,” Minho said, planting a kiss on Kibum’s chest before pulling him into a tight embrace. Kibum kept his arms where they were, running his fingers through Minho’s hair without much thought. He had only recently discovered his addiction to these displays of affection that Minho seemed to be an expert in. Kibum figured that he might have been craving the closeness since having moved away from home many years ago. The comfort that a simple hug brought was simply amazing, even more so when it came from a person that has been making Kibum so happy lately.

“Kibum-ah, tell me I’m not crazy for enjoying this as much as I do…”

Kibum laughed, a little out of embarrassment and a little out of pure joy. He did not, however, get a chance to answer Minho before he felt the warmth of the other’s body moving away in a hurry. Kibum watched Minho in surprise as he stood up, his gaze fixed on the kitchen’s entrance. He turned to see what had caught the other’s attention and came face-to-face with a young boy, who looked much like Minho himself.

Yoogeun. Kibum had only seen pictures of him but he had underestimated just how tall eleven-year-olds can be. Kibum froze for what seemed like forever, wondering how a young boy would perceive what he had just witnessed. Not too well, judging by the deep frown Kibum was seeing.

“Oh, Yoogeun-ah! You’re here. Now. Already,” Minho said in staccato, obviously searching for the right words to say. Kibum turned away to button his shirt up haphazardly before facing the young boy again. He had his arms crossed and he looked between Minho and Kibum with a disapproving glare. Kibum found himself being just as dumbfounded as Minho.

“Hi, Yoogeun! My name’s Kibum. You can call me Key-hyung, if you’d like,” Kibum said, finally breaking the awkward silence, hoping he sounded friendly enough. The last thing he wanted to do was get on the bad side of Minho’s son.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though he already was, judging by the way Yoogeun completely ignored him and turned to his father pointedly instead.

“Appa, something came up for eomma and she dropped me off earlier. I’ll be in my room,” he said before picking up his backpack by his feet and leaving without another glance towards Kibum.

“O-okay,” Minho said, long after the boy left. He still looked stunned.

Kibum felt the tense muscles in his body relax and lapsed back against the kitchen island. He hadn’t even realized just how tense he had been. He slapped Minho’s forearm, bringing him back to reality. A sheepish smile grew on Minho’s lips, making the man look like a teenager caught red-handed doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

“I’m sorry, Kibum-ah. I didn’t know about this. This shouldn’t have been how you two met. It must’ve been incredibly awkward for you,” he started rambling.

“Yeah, probably not. He sure didn’t seem to like me,” Kibum said, contemplating the short exchange between them earlier. He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that he had failed to impress the other.

“It’s not you, it’s me. He’s just not fond of the thought of sharing with me with someone else,” Minho said. Kibum was just beginning to process this when he felt Minho take his left hand into both of his. “He just needs time, I’m sure. I hope this doesn’t change things between us.”

Kibum didn’t know how he felt about this yet, but he did feel sure enough about Minho to give whatever this was between them his best shot. So, he gave Minho a reassuring peck on the lips, which seemed to appease his worries for now.

“Looks like we have our work cut out for us then…”