Kibum is angry.

He’s being deliberately loud – banging his mug down on the counter, letting the cupboard door fall shut with a slam – and both the noise and Kibum’s temper aggravate Taemin’s already merciless headache. It has been a long and frustrating day and whatever energy Taemin has to deal with conflict is exhausted. But Kibum is only ever loud like this when he wants to make a point, when he wants to show his anger, so Taemin plays the dutiful boyfriend and asks “What’s wrong?” and hopes that the issue will blow over quickly.

"Why would something be wrong?”

Those hopes are dashed by Kibum’s response. “Hyung.” Kibum rolls his eyes and waves at the sink, and Taemin immediately knows what’s gone wrong; and then a feeling of weariness settles on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. They’ve had this argument before and he doesn’t care to rehash it now.

He quickly moves over to the sink to wash the bowl, chopsticks and pot that he had used earlier to make ramyeon. The cold, oily water that spills over his hands disgusts him and Taemin finds his own temper flaring; would it really have killed Kibum to turn a blind eye to 3 unwashed utensils? He lets the chopsticks clatter noisily as he reaches for the bowl. Two can play at this game.

Of course, Kibum does not let it pass. “Are you for real?”

When Taemin does not reply, he continues “Do you know how much I hate this? I don’t ask for much, you know? It’s not like I say the dishes must be done immediately or within a specific time limit. I shouldn’t even have to ask you not to leave things in the sink overnight, it’s common sense that it’ll make the house damp and smell bad. It’s bad enough that I have to explain something so simple to you, it just goes in one ear and out the other, and I have to be this… this nag-” Kibum breaks off, shaking his head. “I’ve said so much and you can’t even ing apologise-”

“What’s the point, you clearly won’t believe that I forgot-”

“The point is to admit that you’re wrong. God, your ego-” Taemin shuts the tap off and turns to face Kibum; if he wants an argument so badly, Taemin will oblige. He’s not some carpet that Kibum can walk over. “You want to talk about ego? Fine. Let’s talk about how your ego has you – and me – scrubbing pots and pans like we live in the 1960s instead of using a dishwasher like everyone else! You won’t buy one, you won’t let me buy you one-”

“Don’t start,” Kibum warns, which Taemin finds humourlessly funny since he was the one to start this argument.

“No, you won’t let me buy you one because you’d never buy something like that for me and your ego has us pretending that we make the same amount of money and that what’s expensive to you is expensive to me, and that’s why we have to stay in your tiny, dishwasher-less flat when mine is so much nicer.”

“ you.” Kibum’s voice is flat, as if he’s too shaken to put any real emotion into his retort, and Taemin realises he’s crossed a line.

“Whatever,” he says, drying his hands on his pyjamas. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”

Kibum doesn’t follow him.

Taemin hesitates at the threshold of the bedroom, just for a second, upon seeing the sag of Kibum’s shoulders – his hyung has never looked so small as he does in this moment – but the moment passes and the little spark of pity in Taemin’s chest is snuffed out by his own weariness. Whatever the fallout is, he’ll deal with it tomorrow.