It started with a simple thing; convenience.

Training together for over a year made being recruited for the same idol group easy, doing away with that “new kid who joined the class mid-semester” anxiety. They got to challenge all the fun stuff together; like being crammed into a tiny excuse of an apartment with 2 beds and several messy, smelly, sleep-deprived and over-worked teenagers. Or the other exciting things like savoring a single bite-sized meal and being scolded by the manager you’re forced to live with after he discovers a prohibited snack someone stashed under their mattress.

It humbles you when you fast forward pass all the mental distress, netizen criticism and crushing defeats and finally get to those number one M Countdown spots, that bigger dormitory, and a good bit of money left in your account because the debt starts wearing away.

Success lies on the surface in recognition, awards, international buzz and seniority, but also in those hard-earned days off after intense promotions, solo activities and way too many variety show appearances to count. That’s when those not-so-convenient pains transform into private convenient pleasures.

Ones that Minho looked forward to the most.  

He fell back into the mattress of Kibum’s bed as if tumbling through soft pastel clouds, landing in a meadow filled with his scent, grounded by the crushing weight of Kibum’s body as he straddled him.

“Gaining weight?” Minho teased, his smile widening with laughter when Key punched him hard in the arm.

“Ow,” he laughed.

“ you,” Key cursed, pulling his shirt off and discarding it in a random direction neither paid mind to.

“Please?”

Key glanced down at Minho when his playful tone shifted into a more mischievous one. There was something about the eagerness in Minho’s eyes were that ignited a fire inside of him, making heat flare at his fingertips, pool in his stomach and rise to his cheeks.  

Key loved the convenience too, having his own apartment set to his own routines. The shelves behind his bathroom mirror cluttered by all his skincare products. The walk-in closet where he could take his time being indecisive of what trend to sport that day. Having Minho hard and ready beneath him with no one there to interrupt once his furry children were out of the room.  

Lately, Minho’s individual touches started to add accents to the place wherever Key turned. An extra toothbrush planted in the holder beside the bathroom sink. Much thicker protein shakes than he preferred nestled in the top corner of the fridge. Sweats far too big for his body type and socks with childish prints of soccer balls decorating them tucked into a drawer of his dresser.

Minho had gotten more comfortable there, crashing randomly for one or two nights at a time if his schedule afforded him the time. Sometimes, late at night when it was easier to make an excuse to ride along with Kibum at 2 in the morning after an alcohol-fueled wrap party. Other nights when he’d drive all the way from an undisclosed filming location just for a mental refresher of who he was, before discretely rushing out the next morning to be someone else.

It was nice that a slice of Kibum’s happiness could be delivered right to his door, breathless and sweaty after a long day of work, thinking of nothing but being available to him in any way necessary or desired.

Key dove right in, lips crashing against Minho’s, hands threaded in his hair as Minho’s hands ran down along his spine and firmly grabbed his . Minho moaned into his mouth, clutching jean as Key’s hips made a sensual swerve and he grinded into his lap.

Key came up with a heated exhale, throwing his head back and biting his bottom lip as he moved against Minho’s growing , making his own ache against the confines of his jeans. Minho shallowly panted, hands wandering around Key’s body, climbing up to admire the expanse of his milky chest, downwards again to graze his s making him jolt.

“We need to take a shower.”

Minho shuddered. Kibum was such a skillful manipulator of tone that he had the innate ability to make the most mundane tasks sound like pure . Minho already felt dirty, but now he felt so filthy that Key’s delicate hands splayed across his chest felt like he was playing in mud, dragging small handprints across the ground and molding him into dunes to imprint at will.

The tension had initially started building earlier that night in the studio. The two had subtle moments of stolen glances and discrete touches when they passed each other. It didn’t help that instead of his vocal delivery, Minho’s central thought was of Kibum on his knees him dry.

When the recording was done, Minho sat in the dressing room and gulped down some water. Things quieted down when the camera crew started to disperse and the other members talked with the managerial staff. He was startled by a sudden feathery touch across his back.

When Minho whirled around, Kibum was grinning down at him. Key chuckled low and tightened his grip on Minho’s shoulder before he leaned in. His warm breath ghosted over Minho’s ear and neck, causing goosebumps to raise on his skin.

“You’re coming over tonight,” Key whispered, before leaving him at the mirror and sauntering off to collect his things.

A half-hour later, they were all heading out when he veered left towards Key’s car, but was stopped by Taemin before he could go further.

“You’re not coming back to the dorm, hyung?”

“Ah, no,” Minho hesitated with an awkward smile, quickly sifting through his mind and digging up one of his most effective excuses.

“I actually forgot my script at Kibummie’s place when I dropped by the other day.”

Taemin nodded in understanding, empathetic to the plight of often misplacing valuable things.

“I gotta head to the film location first thing in the morning, so I really need to go get it.”

Minho felt guilty lying flat-out like that, but in all his years being so heavily bombarded by paparazzi and even his own friends, he knew that it was necessary to keep what he cherished a secret, even from Taemin.

“Sorry, Taemin-ah,” Minho apologized, meaning that in more ways than his dongsaeng could understand. “I’m gonna have to crash there. Can you let Manager-hyung know?”

“Sure, no problem,” Taemin replied with a shrug and a smile. “Night hyung.”

….

Minho’s breath hitched when Key grinded down again, snapping him out of his reverie. Right now, he was here with Kibum, in a place infused with his habits, quirks, and all the remnants of things he loved about him. Right now, he could lose himself in their togetherness, in that warm dreamy feeling of home. 

“Kibum-ah.”

Key loved the way Minho said his name. He loved how the desire made his eyes go dark. He loved how there was still a reassuring softness in them that always reminded Key of why he loved him in the first place. No matter how hard Minho could him into the mattress, Minho would still do the utmost to care for him after and hold him until he drifted off to sleep.

When the burning morning light crept through slits in the curtains, Minho would still be embracing his body tightly, wordlessly promising to never let go. But the alarm clock would disrupt that fleeting moment, followed by their inevitable separation and daunting continuation of the daily façade of simply being bandmates.

“Minho.”

Minho’s patient eyes studied Key’s face. There was a sadness there, one he couldn’t place and was too afraid to dive into. Not right now. Not while they could freely share their need and fulfill each other for what precious private time they had to spare.

Key leaned down and kissed him fervently. Minho responded in kind, pushing up as he was pressed down, into Key’s mouth as Key’s tongue dug into his, fists in his hair as Key’s hands gripped his shoulders. They separated with a wet smack and Key kept them close, setting his forehead onto Minho’s as their breath fanned each other’s faces.

“Screw the shower,” Key growled, “ me like you miss me.”

Minho sharply in a breath, his chest swelling with the need to fulfill that command. He loved how Key pushed him, making him tip over the edge of control. Key knew what he wanted, coaxed it out of him, made him take charge of their combined pleasures. Minho tumbled off that cliff willingly, his body thinking for him as he quickly flipped their positions.

Minho discarded his top and once again their lips met, kissing and hungrily as their hands explored each other’s familiar bodies. There was a synchronicity in the way they moved. Their tongues twisting and gliding like silk curling around lithe limbs. Fingernails raking and fingertips imprinting in spots that coaxed moans and sent chills down their spines. Then, finally, Minho breached that tight, wet, ring of muscle, and Key’s back arched as he clutched the headboard with his mouth hanging open,

Sweat rolled down Minho’s face, the salt seeping into his mouth as he smiled.

Now this, was home.

…

“Hey, I was thinking; We should move in together.”

Key choked mid-sip of his coffee. He placed the mug on its coaster and brought a hand up to cover his mouth.

“Wow,” he coughed. “You must really have some time on your hands if you’re sitting here spouting nonsense.”

Minho was dead serious, standing across the counter from him with his hands placed on the granite. Key’s mouth opened and closed as he stammered through his shock, pointing at Minho as if a stranger was standing in his kitchen.

“You, you’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

Key scoffed at the words. His boyfriend clearly must have had either that or a if he was thinking his proposal was even something to consider. Two idols living alone together? Scratch that, two men living together in South Korea. No, scratch that too, a gay idol couple living together under SM Entertainment. It was insane.

“Go to sleep Minho,” Kibum said flatly. “you’re drunk.”

Minho followed Kibum to the sink as he discarded the contents of his cup. Regurgitated coffee was somehow unappealing to him.

“Just listen to me,” Minho pleaded.

Key didn’t even spare him a glance as he shuffled back into the bedroom. It was way too early, just short of seven in the morning. Minho really did have filming to do, and Key had a variety show shooting to get to. His face was puffy, his back was aching, and Minho had an unnerving habit of bringing up the most outlandish things when his brain couldn’t entertain a proper response.  

Even Minho had to admit to himself how impulsive it was. It was his first line of thinking after he stepped out of the shower. He was brushing his teeth, staring blankly in the mirror and observing the background.

There was a red towel hanging on the rod, one that smelled of citrus, just like Kibum. The one wrapped around his waist was borrowed and would be tossed in the bin to be washed whenever. Then Key would return it to the linen closet, where guests could retrieve it if needed. Minho wanted it to belong next to the one on the rod, and for his own toothbrush to stay planted in the holder. He wanted to belong there.

When Minho finally spoke, it was too late. The words had found their place in existence, hovering between them with full meaning and implications behind them. Kibum looked too tired to deal with it, and Minho regretted saying anything but felt so strongly that he couldn’t take it back.

Minho lingered in the doorway as Key got himself situated to leave. Key felt his stare as he stood there quietly waiting, knowing that the response he gave was not what Minho wanted to hear. But this was their norm, a brief conversation left lingering on their tongues and an argument held in silence. There was no admittance of shame from Minho and no attention given to the matter by Key. Key locked his door and they both went to work without saying a word.

…

After drinking a coffee on the way to the studio, Key officially woke up. Just like his awareness to the world, the matter came to the forefront of his mind. It pestered him as the stylists worked their magic on his sleep-deprived face. Wouldn’t they be amused as to why he’d only gotten an hour.

Live together, huh.

Key released an exasperated sigh, to which the woman tweaking his eyebrows chuckled. Shin-young was good at her job and often times made sitting in a chair for twenty minutes go by easily.

“What’s wrong,” she asked, her light voice raising a pitch to punctuate her question, making it sound playful and curious. “Lady problems?”

Key chortled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he slapped his thigh. Her hand remained still a few inches from his face until he stopped moving, then she resumed as he spoke.

“You could say that.”

“Ah,” she replied in understanding. “She must be quite the catch to make you so fidgety.”

“A catch,” Key spat, mad at the image of Minho’s smug face in response to that, “more like catching crabs.”

“Oh my,” she giggled.

She finished her work and took a step back to let Key check himself out in the mirror. He was satisfied, as usual, so he slipped out of the chair and straightened his clothes.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I get the impression that you care a lot about her. Whatever it is, I’m sure you guys will work things out for the best.”

Key glanced back at her but didn’t say anything. There was a lack of words, but his grateful expression said everything. She smiled and waved cutely with her fingertips, then turned to the table to collect the products she had used.

Women and their intuition, it’s something akin to daggers striking the center of a dartboard. Key had separated from Minho without honoring him with a proper response. Early or not, he knew that he was wrong. He knew that he’d have to confront Minho sooner or later.

Key dared to contemplate the possibility. Living together wouldn’t be so bad. He’d already grown accustomed to cooking for two on the days they could afford to be together, and being in the same group definitely left them with no shortage of time together.

Having Minho at his fingertips meant hot cocoa and cuddling on the sofa on long winter nights. It meant vulnerability didn’t have to be so scary because he could feel protection and trust in Minho’s warm embrace. It meant creating a tiny little sanctuary all their own, where they could leave everything at the door and just be Kibum and Minho.

“Key-ssi, we roll in five.”

Key exchanged greetings with the production team and took his designated seat. A staff member gave him his earpiece and he adjusted it in his lobe while positioning himself towards the camera. He gazed at the lens as it stared back at him, the bright stage lights burning through him and making everyone else disappear.

Their focus was on Key of Shinee.

A wave of sadness washed over him, sweeping away the romantic notions he allowed himself to drown in for one fleeting moment. Minho had that effect on him. He helped him forget what they were to the world and only focus on what they were to each other. But the stage lights, cameras, countless people working behind the scenes and all the millions of fans around the world kept him tethered to reality.

It was a sweet dream, but when the cameras started rolling and the director yelled action; it was time to wake up.

…

Minho grit his teeth and reached out, clutching the knit sweater sleeves of the woman in front of him. The actress gasped and stared up at him with shock in her eyes.

“Jaewoo-yah, what’s gotten into you?” she cried, “Let me go.”

The city lights were like tiny stars, twinkling against the dark heights of skyscrapers stretching into the night sky. The busy streets of Seoul continued on without them, cars making their way around the film crew that surrounded Minho and his co-star.

The scene was set for a confrontation between lovers. She wanted to go out and forget about him, thinking that he forgot about her. But how could he ever? They were meant to be. It was the final episode.

Minho had to express his regret for being neglectful, his will to show “Ji-eun” the love she deserves, and his guilt for making selfish plans that would destroy her career.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Jaewoo pleaded in a shaky voice. “I…I could never because I….”

But he did. He’d gotten in over his head while dreaming and spoke so carelessly. He saddled Key with the job of breaking his heart because Key always spoke the truth, even when it hurt him the most.

“I love you.”

“Cut!”

Minho was immediately swarmed with praise while the stylists rushed over to refresh his and his costar’s appearance for the next scene.

“Wow, that was amazing Minho-ssi,” his costar praised with a gilded smile. “Gripped a bit too tight there, but really, it was so convincing.”

“Ah, thank you, sunbaenim,”

He had to awaken to the truth.

Life was not convenient

…

“Are you ready for me to tell you how stupid you are?”

Key lifted his leg, placing his ankle on the bar in front of him, his reflection watching Minho’s as he did the same. Stretching before rehearsal always gave them time to chitchat. It had been days since their paths crossed as Minho wrapped up the shooting of his drama. Now, they were prepping for a concert, working in their normal bounds as bandmates, available to each other once again.

Minho put his leg down and switched. Key placed his foot on the floor, then turned his back to the mirror as he touched his toes. Minho bit his lip and leaned forward, nearly resting his forehead on his knee, disguising his actions from onlookers as a thorough stretch, when in reality his focus was somewhere else entirely.

“Aren’t I always?”

Key came back up with a deep breath, then quickly glanced at Minho.

“Bathroom.”

Kibum pranced away, bypassing the other members and dancers smoothly. There were a number of restrooms located in the building, but there were a few specific that idols used. Minho knew he’d find him in the nearest one, waiting for him.

He waited a few minutes and made his way out of the practice room, being extra expressive about that monstrous taco he supposedly ate coming back to literally bite him in the .

The coast was clear when Minho entered the bathroom. Key was standing at the sink, his expression unreadable. He must have been mulling it over since that morning, tempering himself while trying to figure things out.

“Hey,” Minho said casually, joining him at the sink.

“I hate it too Minho,” Kibum started, his tone low as he looked down. “I hate the things we have to give up, things we didn’t realize the importance of when we were kids.”

Minho listened, not sure what to say.

Key slid his hand over and something cold touched Minho’s finger. He glanced down when Key lifted his hand revealing a small brass key. He gaped at it, then at Key, his mouth opening in surprise.

“We can’t move in together for obvious reason,” Key stated, “but I won’t lose us to this job. I want you close, just like you want me close. So now, you can be.”

“Kibum-ah.”

 “Just shut up and take the damn thing.” Key snapped, turning the cold water on.

He held his hands beneath it, hoping it would contradict the warmth thrumming through his body from saying such cheesy things. Minho grabbed the key, clutching it tightly in his hand as a smile spread across his face. Key turned off the water and looked at him, skeptical as Minho stepped forward.

“Kibummie.”

Key put a hand up.

“Don’t say anything stupid,” he panicked, embarrassed enough by the words that left his own mouth.

Minho chuckled and cocked his head to the side.

“Don’t say I love you?”

Just like that, Kibum felt himself falling into a dream again. Except this one was real, standing right in front of him. He was the warmth when the world felt cold. He was the foundation that kept him standing.

Minho was home.

Key grabbed Minho’s hand and pulled him into the nearest stall. Minho flailed, complaining about possibly losing his precious key. (The irony of that.) Key leaned against the wall and tugged Minho close by his shirt.

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

Minho conceded easily, bringing his free hand up to clasp Key’s chin as their lips met.

He wanted everything, but for now he was grateful for just this. This moment in this stall on fifteen minutes of borrowed time. This feeling of Kibum’s arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and the small piece of metal clutched in his sweaty palm. This familiar heat kindling in their bodies, their hearts and in their kiss.

Minho smiled against Key’s lips and he closed his eyes as he melted into the moment. It wasn’t convenient, but he could work with that.

The large sacrifices and the tiny inconveniences were nothing because the payoff was worth everything.

END