Part Seven

Minho was b with excitement come next week. His pictures were out and the new edition of The Q was finally on shelves. But he had an outdoor assignment so he couldn’t go pick up a copy until it was late in the night. When he was back in the city, he parked his jeep in the nearest spot and headed straight to the only bookstore that was open at this hour. It was a bit far from his place and all he hoped for was that the magazine was still in stock.

Fortunately, there were still a few copies and Minho bought one for himself and four more for his sisters since he was seeing them later that week. But instead of joining the billing queue, he flipped open a copy right there and glanced at his pictures to see the way they were used—the heading, the article, the formatting. His pictures were in one of the leading fashion magazines ever. Printed in high quality, represented in the signature style of The Q. He had clicked these, he knew them so well, yet now seeing them in this way felt so different, as if he had gained yet another perspective.

He felt a bit whelmed, a bit thrilled. They looked so good. He didn’t have many expectations and now his heart was full, finally seeing the outcome of all those nights that he had struggled to take pictures, to find his lost inspiration and perspective, all the hard work he’d put in. It felt like all of that was worth it. No, it was worth more. He couldn’t really explain it. His first ever work to be published under his name. His eyes lingered on his name which was credited as the photographer and he grazed his thumb over it, smiling.

He finally headed to the billing queue, relishing the mellow and tingly feeling that was dissipating in his entire existence. But when he was closer, his eyes fell on the person who was getting billed at the moment. He had refused a bag and had taken back his card before he just picked up two copies of The Q and hugged them close to his chest before he turned and stopped short the very next moment, spotting Minho.

Minho’s eyes settled on him. It was cold, but all he was dressed in for warmth was an oversized hoodie, hood pulled up, but Minho could see that there was something different about him. Something new. His hair maybe, the way the fringe fell over his forehead, getting into his eyes. His ears were pink–Minho couldn’t say if it was because of the cold or that his piercings were new. And there was that expression. Minho only ever remembered it to be indifferent. To think that he would see him be both surprised and embarrassed in a span of a minute was unexpected. The way he averted his gaze yet slowly looked at him again, his brows wrinkled slightly because he was aware–and conscious of Minho’s gaze. The way his fingers gripped the magazine he was hugging, trying to hide the cover subtly–but failing. There was so much that Minho could take in from his sight, so much that he wanted to linger on if only a second longer. Because all of it was endearing.

Taemin was endearing.

So endearing that Minho felt his heart clench in a pleasant way.

“We’ve met again,” Minho said, soft yet loud enough for Taemin to hear.

“We have.” Taemin’s reply was soft as well, and all he did was just affirm Minho’s words. He said nothing more. Perhaps, he did not want to establish the direction their conversation should take. Perhaps, he did not know what to say, having met Minho unexpectedly.

“Wait for me.” Minho stepped forward and put his magazines on the cashier's desk, “Don’t run away this time.”

“I never ran away,” Taemin said. He paused before he added. “I can’t run.”

When Minho turned to respond, he saw Taemin wasn’t there, standing a step behind. But when he glanced around the place, he found him heading towards the coffee shop that was attached to the bookstore.

Minho mentally noted the table Taemin had taken and settled his purchase before he followed him. The moment he had sat down at Taemin’s table, a server had placed two cups of steaming hot chocolate before them.

“I am sorry about telling you to not run away,” Minho began, his gaze on Taemin, whose gaze was lowered to his drink, which he was dragged closer to himself. “I didn't mean it literally, and I didn't mean to offend or upset you."

“I’m not offended,” Taemin’s lips had curved up into a little smile as he tried to submerge the marshmallows into the hot chocolate without letting the liquid overflow into the saucer. “Or upset."

Minho was struck by seeing him smile. At the fact that he hadn’t suppressed it this time. But he had stupidly stayed silent and not furthered the conversation so Taemin had finally looked up at him.

"What happened?”

Minho couldn’t help but smile himself as he answered. “You smiled.”

Taemin seemed a bit confused. "Is there any reason I shouldn't?’

“No, no.” Minho sat up properly, “You should smile more, actually. Your smile is pretty.”

Taemin just returned his gaze to his hot chocolate and continued submerging the marshmallows, but this time his drink spilled into the saucer. Minho spotted a streak of abashment in his demeanor and pushed the napkin stand towards him, feeling both guilty yet content at being the cause of his plight.

“So…” Minho decided to change the subject, “You really can’t run?”

“Yes.” Taemin answered as he wiped the bit of hot chocolate that had dripped from his spoon onto the table mat, “It’s a given I can't dance anymore either.”

“Oh,” Minho felt his heart dip a bit at the slight dejectedness he noticed in Taemin’s demeanor. He had seen his videos before and he was a good dancer and seemed to be enjoying it the most. It was a shame, truly. But life was what it was. “Is that why your agency is debuting you as an actor?”

“Was.” Taemin sighed and finally looked up again, meeting Minho’s gaze. He paused, he seemed to be a bit conflicted, but then continued. “I sold the house and with the money I got from it, I bought myself out of the ty contract they tricked me into signing while I was in the military. I think I owe you a thanks. For helping me realize the thing I wanted to hold on to was… wasn’t tangible.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” Minho grew a bit bashful himself, not expecting Taemin to talk to him at that length, let alone thank him. He changed the subject quickly again before his embarrassment became apparent. “So what are you going to do now?”

“For starters…” Taemin had started on his drink, “Everything I couldn’t while I was under contract.”

“The piercings,” Minho commented, understanding now why he had gotten them.

“Yeah. I have wanted to get them for a while now.”

“Anything else on that list of yours?” Minho started drinking too on seeing Taemin drink it with ease. It had cooled down enough to drink, and the marshmallows had dissolved. After a sip, he used a spoon to mix it all together but his stirring stopped when he heard Taemin answer his question.

“A boyfriend.”

When Minho looked up, Taemin was stirring his hot chocolate as well.

“This should have happened about a week later maybe,” Taemin continued, “When I had a solid excuse to come see you at your workplace. And definitely not so directly.” He looked up too, catching Minho off guard, “I guess some things happen the way they are meant to happen.”

Minho let his words sit for a minute, “That was really not a direct way of saying it.” He couldn’t help the smile growing on his face, he didn’t care if he looked goofy or weird. He just couldn’t help it. Because Taemin had smiled again. Yes, it definitely wasn’t a full smile, but it was genuine and adorable, nevertheless. Playful, even.

“But you understood.”

“I did.”

The subway platform was empty, save for a couple of people who were standing far from where Minho and Taemin were. Minho had offered to stay with him until he got onto the train because he had refused his offer to drive him home. Taemin had resumed his studies now and was staying at the university dorms at the moment and he could grab a shuttle after a couple of stops that would drop him right in front of his dorms. Minho’s jeep wouldn’t be able to take him that far into the campus without a pass.

Although it was staring at Minho’s f