A/N - Please read the author's note at the end ><

“Tonight… Can I kiss you?”

Taemin’s heart dropped to his feet that exact moment. Minho wanted to kiss? Today?

“Really?”

“Why not.” Minho said ever so nonchalantly that Taemin smiled a little. By now he had gotten used to the way Minho spoke about these kinds of things. It wasn’t any different than other interactions. On a good day, Minho had explained it to him in a LOT of detail. How it was hard for him to properly interact with people because of their uncalculatable reactions. That it was generally hard – the topic didn’t make a difference.

19:57

Minho watched the hair on Taemin’s arm stand up. He had noticed the latter’s body reacting this way sometimes. What exactly it meant? He didn’t know, but it seemed to be positive rather than negative. The question Taemin asked confused him. Why would he say it if he didn’t mean it? Was asking “really?” really necessary? Maybe he just wanted to confirm that he heard correctly? That wouldn’t make sense either because he had said it loud and clear.

There was silence for a moment, another thing that wasn’t explainable to Minho. If Taemin wanted to kiss, he would just need to say “yes”; if not, a simple “no” would suffice to answer the question.

“Why are you not answering?” Minho tried, feeling unsure if he made a mistake once more.

“I was thinking, sorry.”

“Was I too blunt again?”

“A little. But it is alright.”

Minho blinked. He didn’t want to be blunt. He wanted it to come out naturally. Normal. He was tired of being strange. For a second he had wanted to ask Taemin if he could spend the night with him, but he remembered that having without kissing first wasn’t normal. Taemin told him there was an order to things and his books had proven this to be the truth. Was this still too much? Where could they start?

Suburban Souls was a French novel he had recently come across. The ual relations that were illustrated by this book had left him uncomfortable. Minho had bought it, hoping it would help him approach Taemin ually, but in the end, it left him more confused than he had been before. He still didn’t know what the right way was. Sometimes he hoped that Taemin would take it upon himself and make the next step, but he never did. Or did he? Could it be that the subtleness of his approach was invisible for him? Maybe Minho didn’t pick up on it?

The thought that Taemin had tried to approach him and he didn’t notice scared him. Was this why he always came over too bluntly? Were things like this done in small gestures? Little words? Or even initiated by eye contact?

Minho shook his head in stress. Why couldn’t he be normal? Why couldn’t he just understand how a normal person’s brain worked? All he ever wanted was to know what was going on in Taemin’s mind. Why couldn’t he just tell him? It would make it so much easier if Taemin just told him what he was thinking. What he was doing. Why he was doing it.  

In his ears, muffled by the ringing that started filled his mind, was Taemin’s voice – saying something Minho didn’t understand.

He wanted to make this work. Minho shook his head and then covered his ears. It was too much. Too many thoughts, Taemin’s voice that didn’t make it through the noise.

Before his inner eye pictures of Suburban Souls passed by – the old man laying with the nineteen-year-old girl. How she called him papa. That wasn’t a term to be used in this context. Involuntarily he re-read passages, fighting back the thoughts as they came.

Taemin watched with shock as he lost Minho. It was a matter of seconds until the taller was unresponsive – another few seconds until Minho was trembling. A few more until tears streamed down his beautiful face.

Taemin had seen Minho drift off before but this was by far the strongest he had ever seen him react to anything. He didn’t know what to do. Usually he just let the autistic man alone until he returned to the real world by himself. This wasn’t like those times. He didn’t just drift away mentally. He looked as if he was in pain. Physically. He was breaking down and Taemin didn’t know why. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know when it would stop.

The worst thing was that he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to react. Would he make it worse by touching him? He really didn’t know, and it almost killed him. To see Minho in pain crushed his heart. Taemin couldn’t stay away. He walked behind the trembling male who was bent forward, head pressed on the table as if his stomach hurt.

With gentle hands he took a hold of Minho’s shoulders and pulled him back until he sat upright. It didn’t need a lot of force as the taller unconsciously helped with his body. From that, Taemin concluded he wasn’t doing anything counterproductive. One last deep breath and he put his arms around Minho’s torso, hugging him from behind, only the back of the chair between their upper bodies.

Taemin had tears in his eyes as he felt the man tremble. Just seeing the physical reaction the autistic male had shown was different than actually feeling it as he held him in his arms.

21:24

Minho had no idea how much time had passed. All he could feel were arms wrapped around his body, fingers gently caressing his chest. It reminded him a lot of how his mother used to hold him when he was small. It felt familiar. It was comfortable. His ears had stopped ringing for a while and his eyes were finally focusing again, and he was counting the lines of the wooden table – checking if it was still the same number.

It was. 25 lines he counted, if you didn’t include the light ones, that was. Then it were 49. That’s almost double. But not quite. It had always bothered Minho that the numbers didn’t relate. Wouldn’t it be amazing if it were 25 dark ones and 25 light ones? But one light one was missing. Maybe it was cut off by accident. Even with the missing line, the table still worked. It was still a table.

Was it the same for him? Did it matter that he missed a line? He was still a person.

The café was quiet. Nothing but his breathing made it to his ears. His breathing and someone elses’. There was a person with him. Behind him he remembered. The hands on his chest didn’t belong to his mother.

“Taemin” he said a few moments later – still uncapable to perceive time the way it was. It could have been seconds. It could have been minutes; it all felt the same. He wanted to do something he never felt before. There was something he wanted to do.

Minho was reminded of his previous question. “Can I kiss you?”

He wanted to kiss Taemin. He wanted to make this step. Tonight. It had started out well and he was hoping for it to work out. Just this once, he wanted to be in control. He wanted to do what he wanted to do.

“I can’t believe that is the first thing you say.”

Minho felt the hug loosen and saw Taemin walking over to his seat. He felt alone, now that he had been used to the other male’s touch. But tonight would be the night. He would kiss Taemin. It would finally happen. They would be close again soon. You couldn’t kiss over a distance. That wasn’t physically possible.

“I want to kiss you tonight.” Minho repeated, determination in his voice.

“Do you really think that is a good idea?”

Minho didn’t follow what he said. His brain was working towards the one goal he had. Finish what he started.

21:46

Minho’s mind had cleared up to a state close to normal and he was watching Taemin’s Adam’s apple from slightly above as the younger was standing in front of him. It was moving whenever the latter swallowed, sometimes trembling as he spoke.

The past twenty minutes were hard to grasp. Filled with explanations and Taemin trying to understand what was going on in Minho’s mind. He did his best to explain why he wanted to kiss tonight. He wasn’t surprised that Taemin’s initiate reaction was to reject. He had never had a meltdown while the male from Seoul was present. It must have been strange to see.

Now they were there. Standing because Taemin said it would be easier that way. Minho trusted him.

“It has been a while since I kissed someone. I am sorry if it is bad.” Taemin apologized in advance which didn’t make any sense to the autistic male who just shrugged.

Why would he care about that? Why did Taemin even bring it up?

As much as he would have liked to think about it more, find the reason for Taemin’s useless comment, his attention was grabbed by the hand cupping his cheek. He was now watching the younger’s chest rise and fall with each and every breath.

“Close your eyes.”

Minho did as he was told and then lifted his head with Taemin’s guidance. He must be facing him now. He tried to get his mind to calm down. He wanted to concentrate on the younger’s touch. But things kept popping up in his mind and amongst many other things was: eye contact. If he opened his eyes now, he could look into Taemin’s. Calculating his height and the angle his head was held by the other, he was sure their eyes should align.

There was complete silence while Minho’s mind wandered. Was he expected to look at Taemin now? But then why has the latter told him to close his eyes? The answer came from a reliable source as among many others, a passage from Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy, (1877) intensified before his inner eye.

“He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.” (p.385)

He didn’t need to see Taemin to see him. He knew Taemin. He knew where his nose was. He knew where his eyes were. He knew where to put his hands to caress his ears and hair. He knew exactly where his lips were.

“Stay.” He said as his big hands gently held Taemin’s face. The latter’s hands had moved to Minho’s shoulders, only applying a tiny bit of pressure. Reassuring the taller male.

With his thumbs softly placed on the younger’s face, he pulled Taemin closer. Closer until their lips touched. Their lips touched.

Their lips were touching.

Their lips touched and Minho waited for the incredible feeling he read about a million times. It didn’t come. Was he doing something wrong? He didn’t know though he felt Taemin’s hands tremble ever so slightly. Was he feeling it? Did he feel what everyone always spoke about? Was it only him who could not feel it?

He moved closer. He wanted to feel it too. He kissed him again. Kissed him again. It were small pecks and even though the mysterious feeling of pure happiness and joy, that was often described as sunlight flowing into your heart never came, he liked it. Kissing Taemin was good.

He kissed Taemin again, this time not backing away. Through the connection of their lips, he felt another kind of connection build, one that didn’t make any sense logically. One he only knew from Shelley. His lips pressed onto Taemin’s, Minho recalled a phrase from Prometheus Unbound:

“Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.”              
                   Shelley, Percy Bysshe, Prometheus Unbound, (1820), p146

A/N

Hello everyone!

I just want to bring something to your attention for a second. I myself are (as said before) not diagnosed with any form of autism and I purely write from research. I cannot speak from experience. Those who follow my twitter have seen me struggle with this chapter because I was trying to portray something I don't fully understand (I made it even harder by trying to write it from Minho's point of view). In the end, I reached out to someone who explained to me how meltdowns feel like for him. So this is mostly his personal experience. If you have experiences to tell, please do. I would be interested to read about them. I understand that autism, and with it melt-downs, differ from person to person, so don't take this scene as how it really is. It is only one example for a variety of possibilities. (Also in terms of handling it). I hope you understand that I am doing my best here, and if something doesn't feel right please do tell, I don't want to offend anyone ><

Onto a less serious topic:
THEY FINALLY KISSED
I hope y'all are happy.
It took me ages to find the fitting quotes so you better thank me!!!

That's it from me and I am looking forward to hearing from you in the comments as always (even if I am slow with answering them. they bring me lots and lots of joy and motivation - eventually it will even be answered.)

xx

R