“What else,” Minho asked suddenly, staring straight ahead, his fingers nervously clutching the steering wheel, “What else did we do when we were young?”

             He found it almost theatrical to frame the question in that way; to learn of his childhood from the mouth of another. He looked slightly at Taemin, waiting for the answer, almost dreading the reply. He waited to hear how his childhood was, how normal things had been before life had struck with the untimely blow. He sneaked a look at Taemin who seemed to be locked in an expression of absolute concentration. The pink tip of his tongue wet his crimson lips and he seemed to struggle to frame an answer.

“I don’t really know how to explain,” Taemin started, then trailed off into oblivion, “There was so much we did, just so much.” A smiled inadvertently stole on his face while his mind sunk on the reminiscences of the past he loved to relive. There was a lifetime of joys and happiness he had shared with Minho, a lifetime of hugs and embraces, a lifetime of frolic and fun. It seemed so cruel that while it shone in his memory, burnt a very hole in his mind; there was not a speck of it left with Minho.

“We would have so much fun. Every day, after playschool, one of us would go to the other’s house. Or we would frolic around in the garden. There was barely a moment when we weren’t together. We were so close, so close. Our Moms knew each other.” Taemin paused for a second, then added in a soft, caressing tone, “And your mother was the sweetest person I had ever known. I liked her a lot.”

        A spasm of pain crossed Minho’s face. The scar had been inflicted years ago, but the wounds seemed so fresh. Taemin reached out and gently placed his palm on Minho’s thigh. He wished nothing more than to embrace the other person, hug him like they used to do in playschool. But, circumstances had changed and all Taemin could do now was gently pat Minho, trying to communicate without words that he was there for him. That Minho could count on him. And that he loved him.

“I’ll tell you what? Once we get to your house, I’ll bring out my suitcase and show you what we did in playschool! I remembered to get that fat, nice photo album chronicling all our childhood adventures!” Taemin chirped.

            Minho laughed out loud; he couldn’t help it. The happiness that abounded on Taemin’s face seemed to work wonders to Minho’s mood. He smiled broadly and nodded. Yes, he would like that.

“Don’t you have a photo album of us? I mean, your Mother used to adore taking pictures of us. She would always dress us up in the most ridiculous manner and make us pose for the camera,” Taemin smiled as flashes of small black suits, dressy cartoon ties and undone shoelaces crossed his mind, “I’m sure you must have an album.”

“Well, I suppose I do,” Minho said slowly, “It’s just that I...I never really looked at it. I let them be really. I couldn’t bring myself to look at them. It was like touching a part of your life that you had never known yet proof abounds that you had lived it. I tried leafing through it once, but I found it hard to believe that I was staring at my own self. It seemed too surreal.” His voice faltered and his hands shook a little, “I couldn’t see them again, at least not alone.” He then added in a voice so low that Taemin had to strain his ears to catch the heartfelt words, “I couldn’t face the pain.”

        Taemin felt the pain of the other. He d within him, trying to understand Minho’s pain, his sufferings. To spend the better part of his childhood wandering alone without the support of parents, without the loving care of a Mother and without the watchful eyes of a Father, seemed almost impossible to Taemin. Yet, there was this boy, barely a young man, still a restless teen, having lived on his life carrying his burdens manfully, carrying his troubles individually. He was so emotionally vulnerable, yet he seemed to put on such a strong exterior. Taemin couldn’t believe his bravery, his courage.

           Taemin couldn’t help what he did next. The circumstances were too alluring. Minho was too charming and his arms were aching to embrace someone. So that’s what he did. He snapped the seat belt open sending it whizzing across the seat, while he twisted and pounced on Minho. His long arms went across Minho not caring that he was driving, not caring that they could probably hit a tree and blow up, not caring that this was probably not something to be attempted in a moving vehicle. He wrapped his arms around Minho, seat, cushion and all, while the car swerved dangerously to the right before coming to a stop.

“Oh God, Taemin! We could have crashed!” Minho exclaimed through the silky strands of Taemin’s hair.

“I couldn’t help it. You’re always so burdened and troubled and yet you carry it all and then you seem to ache from within and I feel so sorry for you but I haven’t a clue how to tell you and I feel so terribly bad because I want to hug you and tell you how amazing I think you are but I can’t so I couldn’t help it and I did hug you because—” Taemin stopped his busy jumble of reasons and stared at Minho.

           Minho gazed back at the little being who was almost seated on his lap. He seemed to grasp the emotions behind the little ramble. He knew how it was like to not be able to enunciate perfectly what goes on in one’s mind. Words are such terrible conveyers and emotions are such fickle things. But Minho couldn’t help but feel a rush of gratitude at Taemin’s childish gesture. Somehow it conveyed so much more than a million words strung together.

         “Thank you, Taemin.” Minho said softly and pulled Taemin in further for a hug. Their cheeks lay side by side, their hands wrapped around the other in an uncomfortable position, but they cared not. It was their moment. One to be framed in picture books of memories, one to be looked back upon and thought about, one to be spoken off in the years of togetherness. It was a moment to be held for posterity.

          A few minutes passed in contented silence. They unclasped their hands almost in synchronization and Taemin crawled back into his seat with an awed smile adorning his lips. He buckled himself in and waited for a sly rebuke he knew Minho would utter.

“Next time you want to hug me, just let me know. I’m all up for it. Just don’t put our lives in mortal danger okay?” And there came the rebuke.

        Taemin laughed and nodded. Minho revved up the engine. They moved forward in content.

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           Taemin nimbly jumped out of his seat the second the car came to a halt. He pulled out his little suitcase and rolled it over to the grass. He then proceeded to open it up.

“Taemin, we’ll go in and see the pictures! For God’s sake, don’t open your bags outside!” Minho shouted from the driver’s seat even as he struggled to get out of the car quickly.

         “Nope,” Taemin shook his head, “It’s much more fun to see it outside. Come sit here.” He patted the small bit of grass growing beside him. It was like playschool all over again; with the two of them rolling around in the grass, sitting amongst the trees, hiding amongst nature. Taemin extracted a voluminous album that seemed to weigh a tonne and set it down upon his crossed legs. He opened it up with a loving touch and leafed through the album that contained the memories of his childhood. Every picture he touched seemed to awaken a new memory nestled deep within him. He loved reliving his past and he wished to share the joy with Minho too.

         “See us.” Taemin said softly, tenderly running the tips of his fingers over the glossy plastic covering the pictures. He extended his free hand and clasped Minho’s firmly within the curl of his own and brought Minho’s fingers close to the photos. He lightly pressed both their fingers down, Minho’s now touching the memories of their childhood and his own now encapsulating Minho’s. Minho gazed at the pale hand clutching his own, with a loving gaze and then shifted his attention to the little picture album. Two boys, one with fair, flaxen hair and the other with dark, vigorous hair stared back at him with impish smiles. They were dressed alike, in cute little white shirts and a messily added tie.

“This was for picture day at playschool.” Taemin said smiling. “Of course, it was a disaster! We wouldn’t stay still. In fact it was only on that day that we hit upon the brilliant idea of exploring grounds. We were so drenched with mud, water, sweat that we could hardly be photographed. Wait a second, I think I have a little photo here of us two muddy souls,” He leafed through the book, turning pages and scanning on until he uttered a sudden exclamation, “Ah! See this!” And he pointed out to a picture of the same two impish boys, now wearing shirts of grimy brown and the tie rolled around their hands. Minho took one look at it and laughed, “Well, now I seem more recognisable!”

“There was so much we did, you know, so much! See this picture! It’s when we had our day out at playschool. We were taken to a new kiddie amusement park that had just opened up back then. Oh that was a miserable day for me! I wanted so badly to sit on the rocking horse and you kept hogging it! See, proof of my misery,” And Taemin, in mock despair waved a photo of a brown haired cute boy rocking a horse, while the flaxen haired boy looked on with teary eyes.

“Oh well, I suppose the horse liked me.” Minho said nonchalantly while Taemin raised his arm to lightly slap Minho’s shoulder.

“I never saw that horse again, thanks to you.” Taemin said, sticking his tongue out at Minho and turned his head away. It was a cute gesture, so childish, so juvenile that it almost seemed to awaken memories. Flashes of two frolicking boys, childish pouts, green gardens, kiddie roller coasters seemed to flood through his mind. They were always vague, sort of hazy visions that he couldn’t grasp. But now, looking at pictures, hearing accounts of their childhood, he seemed to be able to fathom the little wisps of memories that flocked through his mind.

And yes, he seemed to recollect a little boy with fair hair, pale skin and an adorable smile. He remembered vaguely, that boy was something special.

Minho gently scooped up the photo album from Taemin’s lap and leafed through it, his memories sort of rising with each passing picture. They were still hazy, his memories were. They were vague. But now they didn’t haunt him anymore. Instead they loved and caressed him with Taemin shepherding them.

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I'm honestly sorry if this seems boring, but I'm sort of building up for a nice little kiss soon. XD Promise to God, they'll kiss in two or three chapters. XD So don't leave them, yeah? Hang on with them!

Thanks for the new subscribers! And those who commented, I love you!