Remember.

Sometimes Minho forgets why he loved Taemin.

We all have a moment in life when we just forget why we love something so dearly, why we bother to even hold onto it, and we forget why we loved it—we forget why that something meant so much for us.

That was, precisely, what’s been happening to Minho these last few weeks. It had started with small, subtle things, like how he suddenly wasn’t feeling up to any cuddling and he didn’t want to kiss Taemin every five minutes or so. It hadn’t been a problem, because Taemin would initiate the touches anyway, and Minho wouldn’t have minded.

Eventually, he’d melt into every kiss and surrender into every alluring touch. And it had been okay.

Some more weeks passed and Minho had a drama to film and schedules to fulfill and posture to maintain, so basically, he thought that he should have more than 24 hours a day because honestly, how the hell was he supposed to do all that if he only had 20 hours of full consciousness?

Minho missed s, then, because they barely had time to spend together anymore, despite having the same address. He missed Taemin too, but it wasn’t a strong clench of his chest anymore—it’s more of a tolerable, I can always call him later kind of miss. He wasn’t longing for Taemin, but that’s okay, it’s probably because they text all the time anyway.

Another couple of weeks and he found himself free. Filming is done and he’s finally able to breathe. He spent two days either sleeping or lounging in bed, and sometimes Taemin would join him. Minho didn’t feel like Taemin’s invading his resting time when he cuddled up next to him, but he also wasn’t feeling too lonely like he used to whenever Taemin didn't, because Taemin always left after about ten minutes of cuddling, having to go practice or recording or whatever it is he did these days. Minho was kind of surprised to find that he didn’t think 10 minutes was too short anymore, though. He used to think that hours with Taemin are way too short.

But that’s okay, it’s probably because he’s simply too tired that he didn’t necessarily need Taemin’s presence to help him rest.

But then it started to show when they started having schedules together. Taemin would press up against Minho all the damn time and he’d initiate a conversation whenever Minho's in hearing range and he’d steal kisses whenever Minho was distracted enough. Minho never got the chance to tell him to knock it off, because by the time he managed to get his wits back, Taemin would have been looking at something somewhere or already fled along with his annoying, teasing laughs.

(Minho didn’t know why he wanted Taemin to knock it off, though. He used to love the stolen kisses so much. Oh, and when did the giggles turn becomes so annoying?).

In the dorm, things were getting worse. So much worse. Minho would be laying on the sofa, texting his hyungs or his actual hyung or his friends and Taemin would lie on top of him, hiding his face on the crook of Minho’s neck and peppered the skin with kisses. He’d smile against Minho’s skin and Minho would use some lame excuse like get off, Tae, I have to go to the bathroom and Taemin would pout, but he'd obliged anyway and Minho would scurry off to the bathroom thinking about how old that pout was getting.

(He used to love the pout; he’d annoy the hell out of Taemin just to see him made the pouty face and he’d kiss the protruding lip because how could he not?)

At night, when Minho thought he’d be free of the lingering touches and stifling presence, Taemin came. He’d peek hesitantly at the small gap he created by pushing the door open just so, and his eyes would land on Jonghyun’s sleeping form first, before he settled on Minho and his smile would grow brighter and fonder. Minho didn’t move; he didn’t want to move, because he didn’t want to have someone else’s body heat enveloping him while he slept. Not when his and Jonghyun’s room was already hot as it was.

“I’m cold, hyung,” Taemin said, and Minho bit his tongue to refrain himself from commenting about how lame that excuse was. “Can I sleep here?”

Minho shook his head and pulled the cover up to his face so that he wouldn’t have to see Taemin’s pout, and ugh, that pout—“My muscles are sore, okay? I need to have the bed for myself tonight.” And Taemin sighed, looking disappointed and dejected but nodded anyway because Minho’s well-being was still his priority.

He’s out of the room in a flash and Minho would have felt guilty if he wasn’t so busy feeling relieved.

The morning came and he’s up and at it when Jonghyun smacked his foot once and grinned. Minho rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and went to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. When he stepped out, Taemin was there, smiling wide and bright and leaning forward to give Minho a morning kiss. Minho looked away just before Taemin reached his lips, mumbling something about morning breath even though he knew that Taemin had showered and cleaned up (his hair was still damp) and Minho himself just finished brushing his teeth. Taemin knew this, too, and he sounded hurt when he blurted a disbelieving “What morning breath?”

But Minho didn’t bother to stay and listen.

Breakfast was uncomfortable with Taemin eyeing him from across the table, trying to fi