“Taemin?” Minho called out as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“In the kitchen, hyung!” he heard in reply, coming from somewhere further down the hall. He made his way to the back of the chalet, passing a living room before eventually coming upon the kitchen. It was pretty open and spacious for something at a resort, but Minho had noticed these lodgings were more like mini houses than hotel suites.

“You called?” he asked, walking further into the room to sit at one of the center island’s bar stools. Taemin was bent over into the fridge, and Minho could hear things knocking around. “Is there food?”

“Hmm? Yeah, Chojin-hyung said they stocked all the houses with enough food for a few days. Mostly in case we wanted to cook our own breakfast or film some sort of ‘bonding’ segment. I don’t know,” Taemin replied, standing up and kicking the fridge closed, his arms full of random ingredients he would somehow shove into what you might call a sandwich. If you squinted. And didn’t have taste buds. Minho eyed him skeptically as he laid out his findings across the island counter, “So where did Jonghyun-hyung and Kibum-hyung go?” Taemin asked casually, as he began looking through different drawers for utensils.

“No clue honestly, Kibum said they were just going to go look around, scope out the place,” Minho rested his head on his hand, still watching Taemin.

“Kibum-hyung still refusing to tell Jonghyun-hyung how he feels?” Taemin asked without stopping his ministrations, now searching through the cupboards for some reason.

“Yup.”

“Jonghyun-hyung still acting like he doesn’t know something’s up?”

“Yup,” Minho sighed.

“Are we still pretending we know nothing?”

“Yes,” he waited a beat to see if Taemin was going to continue, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and hyung?” Taemin paused as he reached for a bowl on a high shelf, looking over his shoulder with a devilish smile.

“Nope,” Minho dropped his head to the counter, groaning.

“You’re all giving me a perpetual headache.”

“Who’s ‘all’?” Jinki asked, walking into the kitchen, also heading straight to the fridge.

“Minho’s just tired of all the drama – hyung I’m making sandwiches, you don’t need to get anything – you’d think after all this time we’d have no secrets left to tell, yet here we are,” Jinki seemed uncertain about Taemin’s ‘sandwiches’, but stopped looking for food nonetheless. He made his way to sit next to Minho at the island.

“You know you two’ve added to that list, right?” Minho said into the marbled surface. Jinki looked between the two of them.

“Taemin, what did you say?”

“Nothing hyung, Minho’s just projecting.”

“Can you at least pretend you respect me while I’m right in front of you?” Minho complained, sitting up again.

“No,” Minho scoffed and folded his arms, looking to Jinki instead.

“I’m not projecting – whatever that means – I just asked what the deal with you two is,” Jinki didn’t take his eyes off Taemin as he buttered some bread. Minho couldn’t decide if the look was in apprehension or admiration though.

“Nothing,” Jinki said distractedly, Taemin paused for a moment, Minho quickly flicking his eyes up to catch a small twitch in Taemin’s expression, before he forced it back to normal and began buttering again.

“Right, I call bull, and will be ready to say ‘I told you so’ whenever you guys fess up to whatever it is,” Minho said smugly. Taemin set his knife down with more force than necessary.

“We will when you stop playing the ‘best friend’ role, and tell Kibum-hyung what you really think,” Taemin bit out, glaring at Minho. Minho gaped at him, Jinki stiffened.

“Hey, Taem, chill out--”

“No way, he can’t just go around preaching whatever he wants to until he learns to practice his own damn gospels,” Taemin cut off Jinki harshly.

“Okay there, Francesco, cool it,” Minho snapped back.

“Minho, watch your tone,” Jinki countered.

“Watch my tone? Did you hear him? Or is your making you deaf old man?” Jinki stood up, glaring.

“I said, watch it, Minho,” he repeated darkly. Taemin raised his butter knife, pointing it at Minho ready to add some snide remark but Minho beat him to it, pushing back his stool with a loud scraping noise.

“And I asked if you’d gone deaf, because your biual- over there started it,” Minho nearly shouted, glaring.

“Hey! I’m right here,” Taemin yelled over whatever Jinki said in reply, “what’s between me and hyung can stay that way Minho, we don’t need your permission.”

“I didn’t say you did! I just want you guys to be ing honest about whatever it is,” Minho said, exhausted by the mental circles he was running in.

“And we’re saying there’s nothing to tell,” Jinki said evenly, sitting back down, returning his eyes to Taemin. Taemin moved to open a jar of who-knows-what to add to the bread, staying mute. Minho wanted to rip his hair out. Frankly, he was dealing with his own emotional bull, and he didn’t really want to play Dr. Phil for every Tom, or Harry that came along, yet here he was. He was about to say something, anything really to keep the conversation from dying like that, when the front door suddenly slammed open.

“Jonghyun you’re such an !” sounded from down the hall, followed by an equally-hard slam of the door closing and foot steps pounding up the stairs. Minho sighed, rubbing at his eyes with one hand.

“Your boyfriend needs you,” Taemin commented with fake nonchalance, barely glancing up from his work. Minho mouthed ‘your boyfriend needs you’ back at him, a mocking expression taking over his features.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” He said instead.

“Then stop being his keeper,” Jinki mumbled, still not looking at him. If Minho was being honest, it was Jinki’s attitude that was taking him by surprise. Tiffs with Taemin happened every other week, but Jinki jumping in like this was rare, and he wasn’t sure comments like these had ever left the older man’s mouth. The sound of a door slamming from upstairs followed by a few distinct crashing sounds got Minho moving again. He pushed his stool back under the island’s lip and made his way to the kitchen entrance, stopping as he reached the threshold.

“We’ll finish this discussion later,” he said, taking his leave quickly so no one one-liners from the other two could be made.

Once Minho made his way to the top floor, he paused a moment outside of Kibum’s door, taking a deep breath before opening it tentatively.

“Kibum?” He called softly. A pained moan came in reply from the side of the bed farthest from the door, closest to the window. Minho padded into the room lightly, peering around the bed to see Kibum sitting under the window, a half-finished bar of chocolate in his hand. He looked up at Minho, chewing dramatically on the bite still in his mouth.

“I hate him,” he whined. Minho sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Kibum, a feeling of pity washing over him.

“What happened, Beom?” Kibum knocked his head into the wall behind him, another pained sound escaping.

“We were barely at the end of the driveway, and Jonghyun was already filming. So, of course, no real conversation could happen because we both had to have our ‘we’re idols’ voices on. Then, the thinks it’d be a good idea to have a snowball fight,” Minho looked behind him and noticed Kibum had discarded his coat in a heap on the floor. He could see some snow melting in patches on it. He got up to brush it off and hang it up so it wouldn’t get ruined as Kibum continued, “I swear he’s just a giant child. So, of course I have to play along -- and I did, for the most part -- but then Taeyeon-noona and Hyoyeon-noona came down the road,” he took another bite of his chocolate, “and you know how he is around her,” he said around his chewing.

“Around who?” Minho asked, searching for place to hang the coat.

“Taeyeon! He’s been so weird with her lately. He practically knocked me over to run to her. Those two huddled up to talk about something, so I went over and interviewed with Hyoyeon-noona on their camera for a few minutes. Jonghyun came back and said he and Taeyeon were going down to the cafe and that we were ‘welcome to join’ -- like, excuse me? The whole point of us being outside was to go do that. So of course I just said sure, like what else am I going to say -- are you listening?” Kibum paused his rant to watch Minho struggle with his coat and a hanger, before shoving it in the closet.

“Yeah, yeah. Jonghyun -- , Taeyeon, coffee shop, keeping going,” he waved him off as he sat back down on the bed.

“Right, so we all start walking down to the building Chojin pointed out before, when Jonghyun starts trying to make some lame joke, I don’t even know what he was trying to say, but he basically goes to bump me, but him not realizing the road is completely ing covered in ice, sends me off into a snowbank. And instead of helping me up, he starts ing laughing! And then whips out that damn camera. The stupid thing is recording, so of course I have to play it cool, and Taeyeon-noona comes to help me up instead. After laughing some more and making dumb commentary he turns the camera off again and tells me to ‘cheer up’. I almost lost it on him. So instead I took off back home without a word, and he calls after me to tell me to come back -- and now I’m here,” he takes a deep breath, “I hate him.”

“I’m sorry Beom,” Minho starts, “But, what’s with him and noona? I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary?” his tone turned up at the end in question.

“I have,” Kibum said, his eyes downcast as his picked lint from his sweater. “It’s been going on all year.”

“What has?”

“Since those stupid rumors about Baekhyun and Taeyeon-noona started up again last winter. They’ve been attached at the hip. At first, I thought it was to deflect, y’know like, get the attention off noona and Baek, but it’s-- I think it’s something else,” he looked up at Minho before continuing, “I think they’re seeing each other.” Minho dropped his shoulders, his head falling back. He didn’t know what to say, he knew for a fact that it wasn’t true -- it was as untrue as the rumors Taeyeon and Baekhyun had gotten back together -- but he knew nothing he said would convince Kibum otherwise.

“Kibum...” he started, unsure of where he was going to go with this.

“ man, why do I have to be in love with a straight guy?” Kibum asked rhetorically, finishing off his chocolate.

“Kibum,” he said again.

“Ming, please don’t come at me with that ‘love has no gender’ crap, I’m not in the mood.”

“I wasn’t -- but it’s true. It can be true, depends who you’re asking,” Minho said defensively. He’d said this to the other man many times over the years, subtly trying to drop hints about his own feelings. If Kibum picked up on them, he never said anything.

“Minho, I don’t need advice. I need my best friend to hold me while I cry over ten years of wasted time and pain,” Kbum breathed out to the ceiling, his arms falling to his side as he closed his eyes. Minho watched as a few tears escaped and rolled down his cheeks, immediately feeling his heart ache, threatening to explode inside his chest. He hated this. Kibum didn’t deserve this constant pain and Minho wanted so badly to fix everything -- he wanted to make the pain go away, to be the reason Kibum felt better, to make him happy.

Not wanting this train of thought to get pulled into a downward spiral, Minho pushed himself off the bed to sit next to Kibum. Silently, he pulled Kibum into his side, hugging him to his chest. After a short while, Kibum situated himself more comfortably, curling into Minho as best he could from their positions. Minho rubbed his hand gently down Kibum’s back, and up into his hair, before he took to massaging the back of his neck, rubbing his thumb and index finger in small pressured circles. Kibum let out a soft sound of appreciation that Minho tried to ignore before it could distract him too much from the task at hand -- comforting Kibum -- and not letting his mind wander.

Neither were sure how long they sat there on the ground, but at some point they had moved to the bed for comfort’s sake. Minho laid above the sheets, propped up against the headboard while Kibum had gotten under and tucked himself back into Minho’s side. His head resting against Minho’s chest, moving every so slightly with the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Minho had wrapped his arm around Kibum, alternating between rubbing his back and giving soft reaffirming squeezes on his arm whenever he felt the smaller man tense up, or heard his breath hitch. Eventually, Minho took out his phone, scrolling through a news site, while Kibum did nothing more than stare out the window they’d been sitting under before. They stayed like that for well over an hour before there was a gentle rapt at the door, and Taemin poked him head in.

“Hyung?” He called, before his eyes settled on the pair lounging on the bed, “Ah, Jinki-hyung was wondering what you wanted to do for dinner. He said either we can go down to one of the resort’s restaurants, or we can cook here at the chalet. But, if you’re not in the mood to eat right now that’s fine too,” He added quickly when Kibum did nothing more than move his gaze from the window to Taemin, his expression barely shifting at all. Minho looked up from his phone to see Taemin was looking at him now, pity flashing in his eyes briefly before he looked back down at Kibum. Minho instinctively tightened his grip on Kibum’s arm, causing the man to stir slightly.

“Did Jonghyun get back yet?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, no, he texted hyung saying he was going to-”

“I don’t want to go out,” Kibum cut in. “Did hyung want me to cook?”

“Uh, he said he would, if you weren’t up for it. He thought we’d do some filming though, the four of us,” Taemin answered, his voice tentative, as if speaking too loudly would cause the walls to cave in. Minho Kibum’s arm encouragingly.

“What do you think, Beom? Are you hungry?” he asked, pressing his nose into the other man’s hair, speaking softly. He felt Kibum nod.

“Yeah, I’ll come down to cook with hyung,” he said, before directly addressing Taemin, “Tell him I’ll be down in a bit I need to wash up,” Taemin nodded and shut the door with a soft click. Neither of the remaining two made to move immediately, but eventually, Minho tossed his phone off to the side and patted Kibum’s back.

“Come on Beom, let’s go down stairs,” he said, shifting up on the bed higher, causing Kibum to fall off him slightly. He groaned from where his face had fallen between Minho’s side and the mattress

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. He pushed himself up, kicking the sheets back as he went. Minho waited as Kibum crawled over him to get off the bed, and watched as the other man dug around in his suitcase to grab a smaller bag from inside. Minho felt an urge to comment about the fact that today alone Kibum had cried twice about Jonghyun, but he swallowed it back. Instead, he followed the other man slightly out of the room, and into the bathroom across the hall.

He leaned on the door frame, watching fondly as Kibum took out his different products and set them up in order on the counter. A small smile tugged at his lips when he noticed Kibum still hadn’t gotten through the jar of face cream he’d bought him for his birthday -- the last time he asked, Kibum claimed that it was too expensive to use every day, and that he liked saving it for when his skin needed it most. His smile faltered though, when he looked up, seeing Kibum’s face was still downcast and that he was going through the motions on autopilot rather than with purposeful care. A small frown was tugging on the corners of his mouth and Minho once again felt compelled to say something.

“Are you thinking of dying your hair again soon?” he asked, wanting to facepalm at the irrelevance of the question. He needed to keep the other man distracted though, and usually fashion or styling was a good way to do that. Kibum the sink, and then paused, looking in the mirror. He tugged at his fringe absently,  going cross eyed as he pulled his hair down as far as it would go.

“Do you think I should?” he asked. He let go of his bangs to lean closer to the mirror, inspecting his hair under the yellow-tinted bathroom lights. What was once a warm honey color had faded at the tips to a mousey brown. Minho shrugged, reaching to his own hair subconsciously.

“What about me? Should I try spicing it up?” Kibum made a face at him through the mirror. He turned to look at him over his shoulder, looking at him incredulously before turning back to rinse water over his face.

“Minho, I’ve known you twelve years and can count on one hand the amount of times your hair has been a shade of not-brown,” he said, shutting the tap off before opening various bottles, and lathering them on his skin, “Why? Do you want to try bleaching it again, or something?”

“I was thinking of going red again, like that one time,” Minho replied with a shrug. Kibum paused, his hand on his cheeks, seeming to think it over.

“That could work actually,” he began patting his skin again, “I was thinking I’d re-bleach mine before rehearsal tomorrow. But, I haven’t really run it by Yeongjin-noona yet,” Minho nodded abently, his eyes trained on Kibum actions, watching as he finished up his routine. Minho could never understand how he managed to be so inherently pretty while still coming across as masculine. It was a trait Minho found unbelievably attractive, to the point of distraction. He blinked, looking back at Kibum through the mirror.

“Right, well,” he coughed into his fist, “You look good in any hair color, so,” he let the sentence hang, unfinished. Kibum smiled at him, turning around.

“Thanks. I’m all done, shall we head down?” he walked past him without waiting for a response. Minho found himself copying the smile anyway, turning the light off and following the other man out.