"Taemin-ah," Jongin says to him one night, as they lie together on the practice room floor, sweaty and exhausted from hours of extra dancing. "I think I'm in love." 

"Oh," is all he responds with. 

He knows exactly who Jongin's talking about—it's the girl he's been texting since a month or two ago. He hasn't met her personally, but Kibum knows her pretty well and he says she's nice so he's fine with this.

It's not like he has the right to not be fine with it, anyway; he's just being bitter inside because the same thing is happening again. Jongin's in love again, and it's not him again. Same old, same old. He's used to it by now; though being used to it doesn't make the news easier to bear.

"Yeah... We're such a great match," Jongin continues dreamily, his face lighting up and glowing in excitement. 

A forced smile makes its way onto Taemin's lips, but he manages to curve it up into a wider, teasing grin just in time. "That's what you always say." 

"I know," Jongin rolls his eyes, but he's smiling as he continues on with his words. "But this time it's different. I think this is it. I think she's the one for me." 

And he thinks Jongin's the one for him, but that will never come to fruition, will it? His mind supplies to him, acid creeping inside his heart yet again, just like all the other times Jongin confesses something like this to him. 

The first time Jongin told him he was in love with someone, it brought his own feelings into the surface, making him realize, albeit too late, exactly how far his love for his best friend runs. It wasn't too late the second time, but he was scared—too scared to actually tell Jongin about his feelings, and by the time the third rolls around, he had gotten into the mindset that confessing would just ruin everything and make Jongin unhappy. 

Because of that, he supports Jongin in his relationships each and every time, watching from the sidelines as he falls in and out of love with all these people; people who were not him and will never be him. The cycle repeats over and over for years; Taemin loyally staying by his best friend's side, through the smiles and the tears caused by the men and women he said he loved, standing by to listen to Jongin vent his feelings out—without doing anything about his own. Kibum keeps calling him stupid for doing this, but he doesn't care; he's happy as long as Jongin is happy. 

"I'm serious, this time." Jongin reaches sideways to grab his hand, linking their fingers together as they always had since they were kids. "I know it has never worked out in the past, but this... I think this will work out." 

"Are you asking for my blessing or something?" Taemin asks, unable to help a single wry chuckle from escaping his lips. Jongin turns his head to give him a look that says 'isn't that obvious' so all Taemin can do is sigh. "Fine. Bring her to the show. It will be your—our—best performance yet. You'll impress her, then you can finally make it official or something." 

Jongin grins and rolls over to his side, his free hand reaching up to ruffle his hair. 

"I love you, Taem," his best friend says, and there it is, the twinge in his heart. It never fails to come whenever these exact words are directed at him—whenever he hears it knowing that Jongin doesn't mean it the way he wants him to mean it. "Thanks for doing this."

More than anything, he hopes the smile on his face doesn't look as bitter as the lump inside his throat. 

He is Jongin's best friend. That is what he is. That is all he's ever going to be, and maybe it's time to start accept the fact that Jongin won't ever love him the way he wants to be loved. 

He will give up. Forget. Get over these stupid feelings that only caused him pain for years. He knows he's been telling himself this exact same thing every single time this happens, and he knows that he'll most likely fail yet again, but maybe, just maybe, this time it will work. 

What they have is good enough. Jongin places him and their life-long friendship above any of the people he's ever dated, after all, and that's perfectly fine with him. 

"Sure," he forces the words out. "I'm your best friend, after all."

-

Are we still on for tonight, says the text Taemin receives on his phone in the middle of his little lunch meeting with Kibum and another colleague. The phone lies on the table, untouched, but the messages just keep coming, vibrating next to his plate. Should we meet at the mall or somewhere else, the next message says.

The messages are coming from Jongin, who probably should know better than to expect him to reply quickly during work hours. But Jongin gets like this sometimes; texts him nonstop until he replies, and then sulks when he only responds with one or two words, as if he doesn't do the same when he's busy.

Taeminnie answer me this is important, the texts continue, but Taemin doesn't reply; not yet. He's in the middle of a meeting, although it's technically almost finished, and texting while trying to finish up a discussion isn't exactly appropriate.

A couple minutes and more texts later, they wrap up the conversation and Kibum throws his phone a curious look. "You're not answering that?"

"Oh, right. I almost forgot."

He didn't almost forget, but Kibum's seen the screen—he knows who the texts are from—so if he looks even a little bit too eager to answer the texts, his older friend will definitely start teasing him.

"I didn't realize our workaholic artistic director's hiding a girlfriend," his and Kibum's colleague teases from across the table. She probably noticed how his phone kept vibrating nonstop with texts, and as expected, her little quip makes Kibum burst out in laughter.

"He isn't. He's hiding a husband instead—ow!" Kibum yelps when Taemin swats him on the torso, and their colleague laughs from across the table. He doesn't regret doing it; Kibum certainly earned that little bit of pain after all the teasing he's put him through.

"I'll be right back," he excuses himself before Kibum can say anything else. As he gets up, his older friend starts his explanation—that the hidden girlfriend-husband-person is Jongin—and unluckily for Taemin, she immediately gets the joke, having worked with them even before he and Jongin retired as dancers.

Shaking off the light embarrassment clouding his head, he starts typing as he walks. But before he even finished the first word, he changes his mind and presses the call button instead.

The dial tone only rings once before Jongin's deep voice resounds through the phone. "Oh, Taemin-ah. What were you doing?"

"I was at a meeting, sorry," he says, with a tiny chuckle. "I saw the texts. You really didn't have to send me that many, you know."

Jongin laughs.

"I thought you were in the studio spacing out," Jongin explains, a teasing lilt obvious in his tone. "You know you wouldn't even realize you got a text if I only sent you one."

"Or even two," he admits, because he does do that a lot, spacing out in the studio or in his little office. His best friend is definitely not one to talk, though. Jongin does the same thing as often as he does.

"Anyway, this isn't a raincheck call, right?" Jongin asks through the phone, and it reminds Taemin of why he had called in the first place.

"Of course not. I drove to work today, so I was just gonna say I'll pick you up on the way."

"Sounds good," Jongin confirms. Taemin may not be able to see his best friend's face, but he can hear the smile forming on his lips as he speaks. "Jiyeon's really excited, by the way."

"When is she not? She's always excited," Taemin laughs at the thought of the baby girl, images of her pigtails shaking as she giggles up at him crossing his mind. "Anyway, I have to go."

"Already?" Jongin seems a bit surprised, but even though Taemin would love to talk more, he actually does have to go, so he can only hum out his affirmation. "Fine, okay. I'll see you later."

"Yeah, see you."

He hangs up and walks back quickly. When he gets back to his table, Kibum's sitting there alone—who knows where the other person went—watching him as he takes his seat.

"Going on a date?"

The knowing grin on Kibum's face never fails in making his thoughts more obvious. Taemin almost rolls his eyes.

"No, we're just going shopping and eating out with Jiyeon," he explains, before adding. "Jiyeon—that's Jongin's daughter."

"Oh, a date with his daughter," Kibum teases. "How sweet."

"Hyung." 

"What?"

"Stop it."

Kibum scoffs.

"Why should I?" he says. "Every time I hear about you guys, I feel like I'm hearing about a married couple with their first child—"

"Except we're not married," Taemin cuts off. "Or in any kind of relationship resembling marriage."

"Except you are. Weren't you just looking for a daycare together two weeks ago?" Kibum raises his eyebrow challengingly. "You're attached by the hip and you're raising a child together. How is that not a 'relationship resembling marriage'? Plus, you're in love with him."

"It's not like that, hyung, I swear," Taemin sighs. "I'm just helping out, that's all. I'm not even in love with him anymore."

"That's not how I see it, but suit yourself," Kibum shrugs, rolling his eyes. "I already warned you, though. Don't come at me when you finally realize I'm right." 

-

"Jiyeon-ah, look at this," Taemin reaches for a hanger carrying a light blue jersey dress with white stripes, white leggings clipped beneath it as a styling suggestion. His other arm is occupied with carrying a certain little toddler in pigtails—because she was tired and her dad is off picking out clothes somewhere—but he manages, using his free hand to hold it up. "Isn't it cute?"

Suddenly, a warm figure he associates with none other than Jongin presses against his back; a familiar toned arm appears next to him, fingers clasping over his own to forcibly guide it back towards where the hanger he's holding came from.

"Yah. Are you trying to turn my daughter into a stripes-maniac like you?"

Jongin's voice sounds very close to his ear when he speaks, but by the time Taemin turns around to face him, he's already a step away, staring at him and Jiyeon judgingly with one eyebrow raised. Taemin decides to ignore his best friend and takes the outfit back, tossing it into the shopping bag in Jongin's hand.

"Better than your choices," he says, eyeing the other pieces of clothing in the bag. "She can't only wear black, white, and brown for the rest of her life. Right, Jiyeonnie?"

Jiyeon giggles in his arms, but apparently her bright smile isn't a good enough weapon to make her dad give up.

"Your choices may be more colorful, but this is the third time you picked out something with stripes," Jongin complains, although he doesn't take the objects of his complaints out of the bag he's holding. "I'm not buying her these."

Taemin shakes his head, and decides to focus on the toddler in his hold instead, squeezing her puffed cheeks.

"Did you hear that, Jiyeonnie? Daddy's so mean," he starts, catching the little girl's wide eyes. Her eyebrows knit together, although he has no idea if it's because of the cheek-squeezing or because she understands what he's saying. "But uncle Taeminnie is a lot nicer than daddy, so uncle will buy the cute dresses for you, okay?"

Taemin grins down at her, and she claps her tiny hands, squealing excitedly. He can't help but squeeze her chubby cheeks again—which unfortunately makes her stop giggling and start pouting adorably. Truthfully, he never thought he'd ever find a toddler adorable. Before meeting Jiyeon, he thought all toddlers would act like how his older brother's sons did—those annoying, extremely troublesome, tiny humans. Babysitting them once traumatized him; they almost made him not want to have children forever.

"Stop brainwashing my daughter," Jongin pokes at the apple of Taemin's cheek, trying t