17:55

Taemin was frozen. Ever since Minho started speaking, he had guessed where it was going but every single cell of his body doubted that his hunch could be right. Even now when Minho put it into words, he could believe. He had been prepared for every possible reaction. Every single one except this.

He couldn’t concentrate on what Minho said anymore. Was this how the older felt everyday? The sentence didn’t put themselves together anymore in his mind. His whole brain capacity was used by those 7 words: “I want to give myself to you.” Minho wanted to be with him? Why? He was nothing special.

“You are.” Minho interrupted Taemin’s train of thought, making the latter get back to his senses, how could the autistic male’s timing be so perfect?

“I am what?”  Taemin asked while he was trying to stop his head from going places he didn’t want it to be.

“You are special.”

How could Minho know what he had been thinking about? Why was he saying this? Taemin’s heart was beating fast and he realized that he probably said his thoughts out aloud.

“I am sorry, I am so confused, I didn’t expect it to turn out this way.” Taemin said. He was unable to reply to what Minho said. He had never really felt special. He didn’t know how to react.

“Why?” Minho asked after a minute of silence where neither of them said something. Taemin’s head was full of complicated thoughts and connections. Would a relationship be possible? Did Minho even know what he was getting himself into? Taemin had read that autistic people didn’t like to be touched, at some point their relationship would come to the point where he would crave it. He would desire Minho’s touch. He hadn’t thought about any of this beforehand because he had written-off the possibility of Minho accepting his confession. Now he wasn’t sure anymore if he could accept the acceptance of his confession. Wasn’t this doomed from the start? At some point one of them would get hurt.

“Why?”

“I didn’t think you would accept.” Taemin mumbled but Minho understood.

“Why?”

“I… I…”

Minho waited patiently for Taemin to gather his thoughts; he wasn’t in a rush.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Ok.” The taller said and played with his fingers anxiously.  

Usually the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. But this time, Taemin felt bad making Minho wait. He couldn’t possibly imagine what it meant for the older to speak for such a long time, and here he was: at loss for words.

Woosung had been right, he shouldn’t have underestimated Minho. In the end he was just like him. But where would this road take them? If it worked out, it could be one of the greatest places he had ever been but if it didn’t, if there were obstacles they couldn’t overcome, where would it take them?

Taemin knew he could make steps back for Minho to be comfortable, but how far could he walk away before he fell? Taemin didn't know. Their connection was special, that was one thing he was sure about. He loved Minho.

It was the first time that this thought crossed his mind and he knew it was true. He loved Minho. The point of no-return had been crossed long ago. Wasn’t every relationship the same in the end? They were still young, so many things were ahead. So many possibilities.

“Please tell me what you are thinking. I cannot tell.” Minho said, breaking the silence. It was something he rarely did. But it was strange to see Taemin like this. He always said something. Yes, when he wasn’t talking back to him, Taemin stopped but he knew the younger as someone who couldn’t stop talking when he spoke to him. He knew Taemin as someone so overly excited that he wouldn’t stop speaking when Minho had taken part of the conversation. But now he was quiet. Even after he had spoken so much.

Did he do something wrong? There weren’t many reasons Minho could imagine that explained the loud male’s silence. It wasn’t like him to be quiet. What did he say that made him change his habits so drastically. It couldn’t be the acceptance of the confession – after all he was the one who told him first. So why did he say that he didn’t think his confession would be accepted?

Nothing made sense to Minho anymore. Did he say something wrong? Was this not how it was supposed to go? Maybe the real-life didn’t work like the novels? Maybe that's why novels were written down. He would need to consult to Oscar about this. Did he write to escape reality? Was there something more to reality than what was shown in the books?

“Minho.” Taemin repeated when the taller didn’t react to what he said a minute ago.

“Did I do something wrong?” Minho managed to say after a while. He tried his best to focus on what Taemin was saying but it didn't work. Oscar was answering his questions and there was noise from the street filling his ears.

“No, I just answered your question.”

“What question?”

“About what I was thinking about.”

Minho didn’t reply anymore and Taemin noticed him spacing out more and more. He was surprised this didn’t happen sooner but at the same time he was frustrated by his own actions. Why couldn’t he properly answer Minho’s questions while he was still in a state to understand?

Angry at himself, he stood up to get a pen and paper. If he wasn’t able to talk to Minho anymore, the least he could do was explain his feelings with a letter. The moment he returned to the table, he found the older in his usual position, bent over a book while writing notes into his notebook. His handwriting was so beautiful that Taemin could barely look away while Minho’s trained hands were creating even characters as if they have never done anything else.

His own handwriting was a mess, but Minho had never seemed to care. That was one of the things he appreciated the most about him. He didn’t make emotional judgement. He, once, wrote in a letter asking about a sentence Taemin had written in the previous one because he couldn’t read it. Rather than talking about his ugly handwriting he was simply asking for the question to be repeated, because he wanted to answer it.

With a sight he took up the pen and started writing. There were so many things he wanted Minho to know. So many questions he wanted to ask. Did he know what a relationship meant? Why did he accept the confession? How would this work? Was he allowed to touch him? Was he allowed to kiss him? Taemin felt awful for asking such questions. His insides were struggling to control reason and desire as he thought about their future.

He had denied his feelings for way too long. They had been separated for longer periods than they had spent together. That moment in the café was one of many but it felt like a completely new world. Taemin didn’t know what to do with all the options that suddenly opened up. He was afraid to make Minho back out again but every part of his body craved the other’s presence. The thought of parting with the taller in less than half an hour pained him. Even if they just sat together at the table, Taemin’s heart was beating and he felt as if he was filled with helium. He was lighter, head in the clouds as he wrote down his feelings on a piece of paper.

He filled the whole page fast enough so he could place it into Minho’s bag without the other noticing. Taemin knew he didn’t write everything. There were so many more things he wanted to tell him.

Minho left a few minutes later with a small bow in front of the counter.

21:00

Minho was sitting in his room, “Maurice” in his hands. It was a book he hadn’t read in a long time. He bought it when he overheard two people in a lecture talking about its controversy and the connection it made to Oscar Wilde when it was first published. A man and a man, could it work? Even back then he had been intrigued. At that point the concept of homoual love had never come up in any of his books and it was fascinating to think about the possibilities.

He came back to it now as he was trying to answer Taemin’s questions one by one. While he had been reading the latter’s letter, he was glad he could take his time thinking about everything. The questions weren’t as easy to answer as his exams because it involved thinking about his own desires, his own wishes. He didn’t know what he would wish for in the future. But maybe he would find answers in this book. Over the 256 pages, the journey of a young male named Maurice was told, the good parts as well as the bad ones. Minho skipped through it, looking for certain passages that could help him make assumptions about the future.

“Did you ever dream you had a friend, Alec? Someone to last your whole life and you his. I suppose such a thing can’t really happen outside sleep.” Was this what Taemin was afraid of? That he would disappear? Like a dream? Minho had no reason to leave, so why was the other talking about parting ways?

Taemin was speaking of lust as well as the fear of losing him if he gave in to his desires.

It was part of the natural development of a romantic relationship Minho figured while reading chapter 46. He was sitting there with Maurice as the latter told Clive that he shared with Alec. To the question about what he shared his answer is: “All I have. Which includes my body.”

Minho didn’t know how to handle all the doubts Taemin had. He had thought about intensively enough to know what he was getting himself into and the younger made it seem as if Minho had no idea about intimacy and relationships. Yes, he had never been in physical contact with anyone, not even his family, but he was educated enough to know that it would come up at some point between two adults.

Why was Taemin so worried about it? It made himself question if this was the right way to go. After all he was only sure of two things: He didn’t want to lose Taemin and Taemin didn’t want to lose him. Maybe they shouldn’t try. Maybe it was better the way it was. He didn’t have to change; the situation wouldn’t evolve but stay the way he was used to. It was comfortable like this. Or was it? Ever since Taemin’s confession so much had changed already.

He put the novel to the side.

The letter was heavy in his hand and he started counting. Counting the amount of doubts and fears Taemin was listing. He was counting the amount of times Taemin confessed his feelings as he was trying to paint the bigger picture. It was too complicated. So many strings to connect. Minho wasn’t used to being troubled by making sense of written text. The difference this time: he was directly involved. It made half of the strings invisible. Half of the strings unknown. Half of the strings incalculable.

Maybe he had made the wrong decision? Did Basil wrongly influence him?

One last time, he opened E. M. Forster’s Novel. Something in him didn’t want to believe that his decision was wrong. He rarely was. He just needed to find proof.

It didn’t need more than one simple sentence towards the end, on page 226, to make Minho close the book shortly past midnight. He took a pen and paper to write his reply.

“Alec held out his hand. Maurice took it, and they knew at that moment the greatest triumph ordinary man can win.” – Forster, Edward M. (1971), Maurice. p 226

                                         -  Choi Minho

A/N

Hello everyone! I made it back with a new chapter that I hope you enjoy! I have introduced a new novel into the story that I can highly recommend, so if I got you curious, get yourself a copy :) you won't regret it.

Also, there is quite a lot of thinking behind this chapter, so a comment of any kind would make me really really happy! (Or just leave an upvote heheh) Before you ask: yes I am desperate for acknowledgement these days.

XX
R