Three years later…

Taemin

“Alright, I’m going,” Key announced. A pricey Celine bag hung from his shoulder, stuffed to the hilt with bits and bobs. Taemin looked on, thinking his little Prada number was barely half the size. “How are you spending tonight, honey?”

It was Christmas Eve, and the group had just finished filming for a plethora of festive appearances. Onew stood near, folding a hat over his forehead. It was snowy outside, with light fluffy flakes creating a thick blanket. As they readied to leave, the only person not yet in their dressing room was Minho.

Taemin didn’t have any thoughts about how he’d spend the evening or the next day. Christmas was a couple’s holiday for most, though there was a church service he was supposed to attend with his family at midnight. When he was young, it was a point of pride for him to be as pious as possible, but as the years grew on, he knew it was what was in his heart and mind that counted, not where he went, though these days, he wondered if that were slipping like a few other things.

Just as he was about to answer Key, the dressing room door opened, and in walked Minho, clad in some ridiculous reindeer headband.

It wasn’t that he was a grinch, but it was just… Minho. And Christmas. Two things that went together so well that they dredged up everything he tried to forget.

“Minho, what are you doing tonight?” Key called out. He was moisturizing with some essence or balm or something Taemin wondered if he should consider himself. As he looked in the mirror at his thick smoky eyes and painted-on foundation, Taemin thought he looked old—well, older than he was used to looking. It seemed like the dark circles under his eyes became harder to cover each month.

“Date?” Onew asked, smiling.

Easy for him to ask so happily. Onew had been married for a year now. They’d all attended the public ceremony and performed in turn to mark the occasion, and later attended the private party that stretched late into the night.

“No, no date,” Minho returned, a little sheepish. He avoided Taemin’s eyes with precision.

“You mean you’re not dating Kim Go Eun?” Key snickered.

She was Minho’s long-time co-star. The one online forums and gossip sites had latched on to. At least they had moved on from Red Velvet. Taemin just crossed his arms, content to listen to the nonsense he always had to suffer.

“Yes, we’ve been married since Season One, and you weren’t invited to the wedding.” Minho walked to the back of the room and started changing from his stage clothes. Taemin was ready to leave and started to feel the itch to go like he was a spare part somehow. He hated how these days it ended up like this, with the people he should have never been anything but essential.

“Listen, I’m gonna—” he started.

“What are you doing tonight, huh? Want a drink at my place?”

The invitation was unexpected. Key had a partner; someone he was intensely private about. He had assumed they’d be spending the evening together like most couples.

“Church. Family.”

Minho had an endeared look on his face, which only annoyed Taemin.

“Why don’t you come over instead and eat something?”

“You feel like being a host so suddenly?”

“I do. My lover is out of town to see family so why not?”

Of course.

“I’m your second choice.” He tried not to sound sour as he said it.

Onew had his coat on, and as he walked to the door, he patted Taemin’s back. “Spend the night with Bummie. Send photos in the chat.”

“Merry Christmas.”

The two hugged, and then Onew made his rounds to say goodbye before leaving.

“I’ll let the manager know we’ll be ready in five. Minho, you coming too?” Key wasn’t even looking at him when he asked, but Taemin was. Minho scratched his head, clearly searching for an excuse.

“No, I got a thing. Thanks though. Send lots of videos if you get drunk.”

Key turned around and eyed him. “Huh, really?”

“Yeah, I better be going.”

Minho threw on his overcoat in haste, gathering up his things haphazardly.

“Merry Christmas, Taemin.”

Not Taem. Not Taeminnie. Just Taemin.

After giving Key an elongated hug, Minho left, leaving the two who had become one another’s dates for the night.

“I’m sure he’s seeing someone. He thinks we can’t tell when someone’s on his mind, but it’s so obvious.”

Taemin couldn’t disagree, but he wasn’t sure it was as Key thought. Somehow, despite how observant both Key and Onew were, they hadn’t quite noticed the distance that grew between him and Minho over the years. It wasn’t sudden; it was gradual in that way so many friends or colleagues become a little less close without even noticing, except Taemin was practically marking the walls of his heart with each milestone.

When Taemin had returned to work after military service, things had played out how he expected. The initial elation of having his life back as he imagined it was replaced with the complicated state of he and Minho—longing for one another but trying desperately to ignore it until finally, they both caved. And when they caved, they caved spectacularly, and that was the problem.

One night was irreversible. It was a winter’s night spent ing themselves into oblivion. They’d worked themselves through a bucket list of kinks with no thought to how that would leave either of them feeling. When work came the next day, the whole thing turned into a compulsion that ran its course at double speed. Within a month they were back where they’d always been, unable to be anything more than complicated friends with benefits, except this time they’d pushed things too far. It had been Taemin who had left in the middle of the night, teary and angry, telling him neither his mind nor body could continue.

Promise me you’ll stay away from me.

Minho had cried.

At Key’s place, Taemin settled on his couch, playing with the poodles. Key whipped up coffee and hors d’oeuvres and perfectly al dente pasta as they chatted about all things work—the group, solo, collaborations, and everything in between.

“Did you listen to Minho’s demos?”

“What?”

Minho didn’t have any demos that he knew of. He had only released one album to date, and since then, acting and group work had taken up all his time.

“Yeah, he’s got quite a few lined up. Just deliberating. What, have you really not listened to them? The one who called up the company and begged to listen to the demos for his first album when he refused to share them with you?!”

It hurt, like grade school hurt. Like the friend who refuses to walk home with you or sits at a different lunch table because they’ve found a new pal type of hurt.

“I didn’t know he started working on a new album.”

Key picked up their plates and took them to the sink.

“That’s hard to believe. I didn’t even want to listen, but he made me.”

“He made you?”

Taemin was trying to cut out his visceral reaction, but it was challenging.

“Here, listen then.”

Key shoved his work phone in Taemin’s face, swiping it and queuing up a file. “Listen to this one. It’s the most promising.”

It was R&B with a hot bassline, slow and steady. The demo was minimalistic, of course, but the vibe and the concept were there. And so were Minho’s raw and unpolished vocals.

One last wish / I’m sorry / A better person couldn’t promise

One last kiss / I’m sorry / It was so easy to stay away

Taemin pressed stop, clutching the phone in his hand.

“I may have been joking about Kim Go Eun, but I know him. So do you. He’s got someone on his mind. I know it. His lyrics are always full of heartbreak melodrama, but he’s reaching new heights this time,” Key said.

Taemin couldn’t say anything.

Maybe he was delusional. Maybe his ego was filling the room. Yet he couldn’t help wondering if the lyrics were about him. Maybe he just desperately wanted them to be—one of many fatal flaws, pushing Minho away with all his might and somehow expecting him to still come back and fight for him.

Minho

Minho sat in the backseat of the oversized SUV he had all to himself save for his driver. He didn’t know the driver well, and he wasn’t in the mood to make conversation. That was rare for Minho, the lively extrovert, but the exchange back in the dressing room had gotten to him.

Having dinner on Christmas Eve at Key’s with him and Taemin was the best way he could think to spend the holiday. There was no one he was meeting—no anyone in his life. He didn’t want anyone else. Minho had decided long ago; the promise he’d made was almost incidental. He loved Taemin, and Taemin loved him. But that didn’t mean they could be together. It was mostly the opposite. To avoid imploding, they’d keep a healthy distance until things had reset so effectively, they could break their own promise.

The streets were slush insulated by fresh white snow. Car tires made that unmistakable slushing noise as they rolled past. His SUV slowed in front of his building. Christmas was just another night. He’d see everyone the next afternoon. Less than twelve hours. What did it matter what he did, or who he spent his time with? Minho was learning not to ask for more, despite his heart’s desires.

  After showering and settling into a jogging suit, he sat on his couch sipping whiskey. Perhaps it was more than a sip, but Minho didn’t care. He found a soccer game from abroad on television and watched it without attention. It was just noise and something for his eyes to follow. This was fine. He’d see Taemin tomorrow, and everything would be just like old times until the awkward goodbyes.

His phone buzzed. It was the group chat. A couple of hours had passed since they parted ways. Sure enough, it was a loud video of the two dancing messily to an old girl group’s song. Key was out-dancing Taemin, as he often did in these situations.

Cute.

Minho remembered Onew’s wedding, and how Key and Taemin had danced with abandon at the private party. It had just been their closest friends and relatives, and Minho had loved watching them, long giving up on keeping pace. And he knew Taemin should have given up considering he barely knew any of the dances Key demanded they perform, but Minho could see the freedom lighting up his face. When they were young, Taemin always had to work too hard, and letting go had never come naturally. Seeing him so free had made Minho exceptionally happy. So happy they’d ended up breaking their own commandment in a hotel room a couple of floors above the party.

And Minho had been careful. He didn’t let them go too far, or do anything too extreme or taxing, despite Taemin’s pleas. Instead, it had been slow and tender. Quiet. Just like the last night they spent together before Taemin left for service, except without the tears that tore Minho apart. And, to Minho, this had felt like things were changing. The distorted logic added up somehow.

His phone vibrated again. Another video—a long one. Minho clicked play.

“Tell him he’s so obvious,” Taemin slurred.

“Yah, he says your obvious, Minho. I… don’t know what that means but I’m not surprised.”

“Can’t even spend Christmas in the same place now.”

Oh .

“Shut up, what are you talking about?” Key was an exasperated drunk. “Tell us who you’re ing, Minho.”

Minho held his head in his hands. This level of drunkenness was not what he expected in such a short time frame. They had healthy boundaries as friends and colleagues, but the gloves did come off in the face of alcohol. Worryingly, the video played on.

“Who do you think Minho is ing?” Key asked.

Minho was close to yelling at his phone.

“Wishes it was me. But he can’t have me because I’m impossible.”

Key shrieked in laughter. “You had ONCE. Get over it. I’m sending this to Minho.”

Minho stood immediately. The only other rule he and Taemin abided by was that they wouldn’t burden the other members with their drama. Since that day when Key, Onew, and their manager interrupted them, they’d behaved in the company of others. And no one ever asked, knowing it was a subject off-limits.

Taemin x Minho

The door buzzed.

“Who the is that?” Key yelled.

He and Taemin were cooked, laying all over the floor while music blasted from the living room speakers.

“Your lover.”

“No, he’s busy.”

Key stumbled to the door, trying to work the video doorbell.

“I can leave if it’s him.”

“No, if it’s him… I’ll lock you in the back room.”

“I’d like that.”

Taemin stared at the ceiling. Locked up somewhere confining suited his mood. He rarely drank, so when he did all his inhibitions tended to dissolve in a grand way.

“Lock me up now,” he called, hearing the door open and footsteps enter. “Tie me to whatever is in there.”

“Why are you here?” Key said. “Those videos weren’t to entice you.”

Taemin watched as a tall figure came into focus. Too tall. Too dark. Too handsome. .

“It’s time for Taemin to go home.”

Sitting up, Taemin just stared.

“Minho, tell us who you’re seeing. Even Taemin said it was obvious,” Key said, finding a sober moment.

“I’m not seeing anyone. Come on, Taem.”

Taemin went flush at the nickname.

“Who are you trying to date then?”

“He’s trying to—” Minho shoved his hand against Taemin’s mouth as he picked him up.

“We’re going now.”

Minho ushered Taemin to the door and helped his shoes on. The car and driver were waiting downstairs, and he didn’t want to rack up a huge charge for what amounted to drunken shenanigans.

“Huh,” Key said.

“What?” He stood in the doorway with Taemin.

“Nothing. Just that your friend Changmin has a big mouth.”

Minho just squinted at him.

In the car, Minho managed to get Taemin into the back seat with little fuss. He knew Taemin was due to meet his family, and that they were likely at his place, but the last thing he wanted to do was drop him off in this condition. No one would believe he was just taking care of him and not responsible for the mess, and on Christmas no less. Instead, he took Taemin up to his apartment and had him drink a large glass of water.

“You can sleep in the spare room. Come on,” Minho said, taking him by the hand. When Taemin laid half of himself on the bed and looked ready to pass out like that, Minho sighed and took his socks off before dragging his legs onto the bed. Minho brought a glass of water to the bedside table. Just as he turned to leave, a clammy hand grabbed his.

“I have to say a prayer. It’s Christmas.”

Minho smirked.

“Say it with me.”

“Okay.”

Standing, Minho waited for Taemin to start. Instead, the hand just gripped his tighter.

“Taem, are you—?”

“Shh, you don’t say it out loud.”

“Oh.”

He stood for a long minute before Taemin’s grip let up on his hand.

“Goodnight, Taemin.”

Switching off the light, Minho’s heart felt warm.

When morning came, Minho sat drinking coffee staring out across the cityscape. His part of Seoul had snow-covered rooftops of all sizes and heights. He was too high up to see anything more than ant-sized couples out for morning walks. The morning felt crisp, even from his vantage point, and the romance of Christmas morning felt faint.

He thought about the Taemin sleeping in his spare room, the one he’d put to bed carefully, saving him from personal embarrassment at Key’s. Hopefully, the incriminating video would be like so many others—forgotten for years before dredged up out of context. But Minho had saved a copy. It was equal parts heart-breaking as it was amusing, but that was nothing new.

“Why isn’t it enough?”

Taemin stood where the hallway met the kitchen, having found an oversized sweatshirt and shed his clothes from last night for it.

“Let me get you some pajama bottoms,” Minho said, racing up to save them both.

“Why isn’t love enough?”

He stopped, confronted by the honesty on Taemin’s face.

“I don’t know.”

“It should be. When two people love each other, it should be enough to make things work.”

Taemin leaned against his kitchen counter, clearly cold from his bare legs.

“Come on, let me get you something to wear.”

“No, don’t you think I’m right? How come it’s not enough?”

“Because life isn’t a fairy tale. There are other things to think about.”

“Money, jobs, we have those. Shouldn’t it be easy?”

“Life isn’t easy for anyone.”

Taemin shivered and hugged himself. Minho couldn’t resist tucking his hair behind his ear.

“I heard your demo last night.”

Suddenly, Minho couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“It was honest.”

“I’m sorry it was easy,” Minho admitted.

Taemin kissed his forehead, then backed away, looking for something. He fished his phone out to check the time, and then played a voicemail from Key sent at two in the morning.

“Did you him? Listen, tell me, I’m bored I need gossip—” Taemin pressed delete as quickly as he could.

“So it is that obvious,” Minho offered.

“I guess.”

An awkward silence passed. Taemin knew the door was open now; rules could be broken in a wild fashion if he wanted. But something had changed.

“I don’t want to just sleep with you.”

As he turned to leave, Minho grabbed him into a back hug.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

They stood like that for a while, Minho holding Taemin tightly, with their arms crossed over one another. It felt like home; there was no denying that. 

“Be my boyfriend today,” Minho tried.

“Wow, for a whole four hours until work.”

“All day.”

Minho held him tighter.

“Twenty-four hours, how generous.”

“All year.”

Taemin sighed. “Stop, you don’t mean it.”

“I do. I can’t take this.”

“Don’t say things just so I’ll you.”

“I’m being serious.”

Minho held his hands ever so tightly.

Taemin searched the room with his eyes as though there'd be some helpful clue hidden amongst the cupboards. He knew he should turn around to see if Minho meant what he was saying but he didn't want to. Instead, he called his bluff.

“If you mean it, come to church with me. Sit beside me, with my family.”

“I’m not religious.”

“It doesn’t matter. Come with me. Hold my hand.”

The thought terrified them both, yet they knew what it meant—how much it would mean to their future selves.

"Okay," Minho said.

Taemin swallowed. "We better get dressed then."

And later that morning, after they'd found appropriate outfits from Minho's closet, Taemin led Minho down the aisle of a tall, airy church. They walked hand in hand, hearts beating fast and palms sweaty. Their hands never let go, not until they were back at Taemin’s place, sharing breakfast with his family. When it was time to ready for work, the pair found themselves alone in Taemin’s bedroom.

“What if we were wrong?” Minho asked.

“Hmm?”

“What if everything we thought was too hard, too impossible, was easy?”

Taemin stared.

Minho kissed him, bringing him closer.

“Hey, not with my parents outside.”

“Calm down, I’m not trying to you.”

“Taeminnie darling, your underwear—”

His mother opened the door with an armful of laundry.

“Mom!”

“Sweetheart, take this and put it away quickly. You two are going to be late.”

She squeezed his cheek and then closed the door, leaving the two dumbfounded.

“What were you just saying?”

“Let me see your underwear.”

Instead of fighting over the laundry pile, the two ended up on the bed, laundry scattered everywhere, kissing like teenagers.

“She’s going to scold us if she comes in here again,” Minho said between kisses.

“So let her scold us.”

Merry Christmas^^