Taemin POV

Only trembling can I hold the chocolate cake in my hand. Key helped me bake it. Kai told me that Choi Minho is a big football fan. The cake, covered with green icing, bears some deformed football players made of marzipan. My intention was to form human players out of marzipan, but my hands thought football is also played in space, so why not alien football players? My football also turned out rather unconventional.

"But a square football is very imaginative!" Kai had tried to cheer me up when we looked at my Picasso-like work of art.

Key had also tried to encourage me.

"With a lot of imagination and narrowed eyes, I'm sure even Minho will recognise what it's supposed to portray." Key has other qualities as I have noticed. 

Broad and Broader are standing in front of me, in the exact position where I last saw them. I wonder if they ever sleep. Maybe that's why they always wear sunglasses? Are they afraid people will see the bags under their eyes?

"Is...um...Choi Minho in here today?" I ask Broad, Jiwoo's less broadly built bodyguard, but still broad enough that he could probably occupy a cuddle seat in the cinema to himself. I assume he's looking at me from top to bottom because his head moves like that. But I can't say whether he has eyes, because I've never seen his or Broader's eyes. There could also be yellow eyes with a black vertical line as a pupil underneath. Broader claps his tongue and points his head upwards very quickly before he pauses again in his Madame Tussuads waxwork cabinet position. My lizard-man theory seems more and more plausible to me. On my imaginary To Do list I write down that I need to find out how much sleep lizards need.

I hope Minho accepts my apology cake. Yes, he has crazy requests just like his mother, but isn't it true that madness and genius are only separated by a very thin line? They must be doing something right otherwise they wouldn't be so successful. Maybe the cake will even get us talking and I can tell him about Kai!

"I'm sorry I got your shirt dirty." I try to rehearse for my apology as I go up the stairs. Is this too blunt? Would humour go down better with him?

"Who would have thought that this shirt could get any uglier, right?" But Choi Minho does not seem to me to be a man blessed with humour. I sigh deeply as I reach the the top of the stairs. From here I can already see that Jiwoo's office door is ajar. Now I have to summon up all my courage.

With every step I take, I can hear Jiwoo's and Minho's voice louder and louder. I stop in front of the door and take another deep breath. Taemin, you have to apologise! It's the least you can do. Yes, you have certainly done the world a favour that no one ever has to see this massacre of a shirt ever again, but still! However, abruptly my hand gets stuck in the air as I want to knock.

"If the press finds out you're not my real mother, we're screwed!" I clearly hear Choi Minho say.

My thoughts are racing. What did he say?

Splat.

. . !

"What was that?"

More !

The brown cake that is now spread on the floor reminds me of Key's vomit. What am I going to do now? I can already hear footsteps coming towards me. I kneel down on the floor and hastily try to pick up the pastry, the marzipan aliens and the icing with my hands. But I only make an even bigger mess. My hands are full of chocolate and green icing.

No. No. No!

With my last ounce of strength I try to get my hands on the doorknob of the very door that is opening.

...

Of course I miss.

Silence.

How do I know that the person breathing loudly and angrily down at me is Minho and not Jiwoo? Well, it would be news to me that Jiwoo is carrying a banana between her legs. But come to think of it, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for her. I've stopped questioning why she does things the way she does.

Time seems to stand still. I don't dare move.

"Get. Your. Hands. Away. From. There!" Minho grits through his teeth.