Jinki saw the world in a kaleidoscope of colours. Shapes and shades all dancing together, turning inside a little contained hurricane. Distorted shapes and objects all fragmented into artwork, something so lovely. This is how the world seemed when you’re in love. And was Jinki ever. 

They had met a few months ago, back when the boy had moved into the vacant apartment beside the older man. Jinki only watched silently through his peephole, too shy to help as the boy huffed and panted, pulled his way up the last flight of stairs carrying yet another box. It was a bit of a dumb move on his part, to not hire movers to do this work when the boy looked like he weighed no more than a teaspoon of sugar, but Jinki can’t blame him - he was too pretty. So as a good samaritan would, Jinki unloaded the rest of his car and lugged everything upstairs without a word, as his new neighbour sat, panting against the wall between their doors. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” The boy says, a sheen of sweat still glistening on his forehead. Jinki’s not too far behind himself. 

“I like to help people.” He explains, as if it were nothing. “I’d do it for any other stranger. Have a nice night.” And with that, retires to his own apartment. 

The truth of the matter, and what proceeded to haunt Jinki over the coming months, was that he would not do that for any old stranger, and his new neighbour wasn’t just people. He was beauty personified. He was a dream Jinki didn’t even know he’d been chasing for his whole life. He was unforgettable, and he changed Jinki from the start, dragging him out of his apartment without even a word. Jinki would gladly be moulded by him any day. 

Jinki worked evenings. Down the block at a diner that he frequented so often he managed to land a job when they were hiring. He did the dirty work. Cleaned the place while nobody was there, emptied the grease traps, took out the trash - the lot of it. Not much elegance to it, but Jinki was never someone who lusted after that kind of thing, so it was the perfect job for him. 

Jinki’s life thus far wasn’t much to write home about. He had his share of struggles as a teenager and young adult and as he grew older, learned to plant his feet firmly on the ground, and live in reality, to keep himself safe. His life was a shade of grey. Nothing sparkling - nothing dazzling. Only safe and colourless, and the upset that was this twenty something picture of beauty, seemingly imprinted in him, disrupted every aspect of the man’s very concrete life. It took awhile, but as he persisted, Jinki begun to realize he didn’t quite mind. Perhaps being tethered completely down was harming him just as much as floating free did. 

So Jinki lets himself float within his bounds. Let’s himself linger in his threshold as he hears footsteps climbing up the flights of stairs his neighbour seemed to despise so much. He lets himself accept an offer for a cup of coffee and a slice of pound cake. 

“I never got the chance to thank you for helping me the other week. You ran out on me so fast.” If loveliness had a smell, it would be what lingered inside the boys home, and around his neck. He leans down, only inches too close, and places a cup of coffee before his neighbour. An angels hand rests upon the elders shoulder, and a single, warm digit dances over the collar of his shirt, against the cool skin of his neck. Every hair on Jinki’s body stands on end. “I hope you’re not always like that. I’d like you to stick around, if you can.”

“Always.” Jinki chokes out, peering up into his dark eyes. He’s unsure of what he really just agreed to, but knows it was not a mistake. No promise to this boy could ever be a mistake. 

“My name is Taemin.” He smiles. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

Jinki goes home with a stomach full of cake and coffee and adoration. Taemin likes him - so, so much - Jinki thinks he may be dreaming. He asks away about the elder. About his job and about his family. The movies he likes and the music he hates and his opinions on taboo tea time talk like religion and politics - all with such eager ears. He smiles that soft smile listening so intently Jinki wonders if he has ulterior motives, but stays so innocently interested Jinki feels guilty for even questioning it. 

Two more times Jinki sits with this boy in his apartment. Two more slices of cake and cups of coffee and countless smiles and giggles around until Jinki realizes what’s going on. Why Taemin’s acting this way and why towards him. 

“I don’t know much about you, Taemin.” Jinki observes after one long story that leaves the younger beaming, glowing in the sunlight sliding through the window behind his kitchen sink. “All we ever do is talk about me. Why don’t we talk a bit about you? What are you like, Taemin?”

That’s when it dawns on him. When Taemin’s perpetually smiling face slides into a frown of disappointment and confusion, Jinki realized this boy is much more shy than he first imagined, only outgoing to sustain his interest in his neighbour, but reclusive when he came to his own personality. “There’s not much to talk about.” He mumbles, and shrugs, too nonchalant to not be hiding something. “I’m not enough to talk about. Or even think about. Forget it.” He stands, stacking their empty plates before turning from Jinki. 

“What?” Jinki sounds astonished - because he really is. Somehow, someway, Taemin didn’t think he was interesting in the least. Somehow this angel had no self esteem to speak off and was nearly embarrassed to be asked about himself. “I think about you all the time, what are you talking about?” Jinki laughs, in all seriousness, but chuckling from the ridiculousness of the situation. He can’t imagine ever finding Taemin anything but spectacular. “Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Taemin’s frozen with his back to his neighbour. Plates rattling in his hands until they hit his counter with a clang, and his palms rest against the edge as he takes a deep breath. “I think about you a lot too.” He mumbles, sounding as if he were using every ounce of bravery in his heart to admit those words. “You make my day so much more... I don’t know.”

“Brighter?”

“Yeah!” Taemin turns with a smile, quick to force it down and conceal his excitement. Jinki can’t seem to understand why he’s so shy about these things - Jinki would love him either way, and perhaps more and more if he were to show that side of himself. Jinki would love him no matter what. 

“You make my entire life brighter, Taemin.” And to that, Taemin gifts Jinki a genuine, bright, angelic smile. Jinki did love him - more than anything. 

So much about life becomes perfumed and rose tinted when you’re in love. Jinki hums to himself past 1 am, cleaning public washrooms as if it were a field of roses. Knowing he had someone - knowing he’d come home to Taemin freshly woken up, tiredness still lingering in his round eyes, ready with a smile and sweets even despite the hour - just knowing Taemin existed made everything a bit more bearable. And the fact that he was allowing himself to be cracked open, to be dissected by Jinki, made his excitement grow even more. 

Taemin opens up slowly, as a blossoming flower would in the early spring. Jinki waters him with affection and an open heart, and slowly he becomes the most beautiful rose in his garden. He speaks to Jinki candidly. About his life and his problems and about his feelings for the older man. So much comfort between the two it was if they had met and fallen in love thousands of times before in their past lives. Jinki muses, he would be wrong to disrupt the flow of history, and allows himself to fall as deeply in love as he can sink, dragging Taemin down along with him. 

“I like you so much sometimes I don’t think I can take it.” Taemin says into Jinki’s chest one early morning. They’ve slowly migrated from Taemin’s kitchen to his living room, cuddled up in his all too small loveseat doing just what the piece of furniture demanded. Taemin’s fingers dance along Jinki’s collarbones, over the tendons in his neck and he freckles on his cheeks. “I don’t think I’d mind going that way.” 

“Only if we go together.” Jinki smiles, a shiver down his spine from Taemin’s feather touch, soon cupping his face, dragging him down to drown him for a kiss. 

“It’s a deal.” Jinki’s fate whispers, before sealing their promise with the wax stamp of his lips.

Taemin’s golden. He’s every colour of the rainbow and more. He’s chestnut brown hair and jet black eyes and golden tanned skin and crimson flushed cheeks. He’s more colour than Jinki had seen in his entire life. And not only that, but he colours the world around him. The sky is more blue when he smiles and the grass more green with his laughter. And when Jinki kisses him - when he presses his lips against those pink satin pillows and receives a sigh of contentment - he feels more vibrant than all the colours in the universe.