Minho felt terrible of course. He sank into the doorway and slipped his shoes off. He wanted to be quiet—he didn’t feel like dealing with Onew or Key or Junghyun. He hadn't the energy. The only one who mattered was Taemin, and he was too embarrassed, too ashamed to face him.

            It was too late. Taemin was in the kitchen, his tall frail form bending over the counter as he ate the last banana from the bunch. Minho fought back the obscene thoughts that fought to creep in. He looked so cute standing there in his slack white T-shirt and blue pajama bottoms covered with cloud prints. His hair was perfect as always, and his fair face, shiny despite the late hour.

            “Hey... I’m back.”

            “Welcome home, hyung,” he returned. “Did you have a nice time?”

            Minho’s cheeks turned red. He knew Taemin didn’t know anything, but his conscious was getting the better of him. “Uh, yeah. Nothing special.”

            “Oh,” he replied. “It’s so late to workout. I don’t know how you do it.”

            So that’s what Onew told him. Working out. It was an easy enough lie to endorse. “Well, you know me. It’s what I live for.”

           Taemin smiled. His face was so gentle, his eyes so soft. Goddammit, why’d he have to be so ing beautiful? He thought briefly back to the first time he saw him years ago, way back when they were all young boys training for SM. He couldn't believe a guy could be so pretty. When he came, Minho was no longer the maknae, relieving him of the burden but placing a new one on him instead—the burden of the strange, strange feelings he’d wrestled with ever since... 

           There was no one like Taemin. If anything, it was his fault that Minho'd become the way he was... Taemin was utterly and magnificently perfect in every way, and Minho hated that he loved him so much. It wasn't like with those other guys--it wasn't a lust thing or a need to be in control even. It came from something much stronger--an attraction he could not explain but also could not resist, as if they were magnetically pulled to him. His other half. Taemin, SHINee's perfect maknae, was like an untouchable goddess, a pure and virtuous work of art. God, he loved him. It took everything in him to hide his true feelings from him—and Taemin’s sweet spirit, his inexhaustible kindness, only made it harder to keep secret.

          People had been talking lately with nothing but simple embraces, innocent shoulder rubs, and ambiguous glances to go by. It wasn’t just their sunbaes who sensed it; SHINee fans seemed to get off on the slightest possibility. Any interaction, no matter how small, seemed to ignite their fantasies. In fact, it seemed they knew things before even he, himself, knew (so, did that mean that there was really something going on with Jonghyun and Kibum too