Once morning, the rays of sunlight radiantly make their way across to the two boys sleeping contentedly on a cramped sofa, arms tightly wrapped around each other and legs woven together in a tangle of tenderness. Their chests rise up and down almost in synchronization and both their lips are upturned in a curious sort of smile. It makes for a beautiful picture. A scruffy, tall brown haired individual and a fair, slender childlike darling caught up in an act of unknowing love, a portrait of wonderful intimacy.

         The harsh clanging of an alarm clock blazing in the far end of the house rudely disturbed the pretty picture and they awoke with a start. Minho looked earnestly at the flaxen haired boy he held in his arms and waited for him, perhaps demanded of him a reaction. Taemin shook his head in reply and smiled a beautiful smile. “Did you think, perhaps, it was a dream?” Minho asked suddenly. Taemin gazed softly at Minho’s rough cheeks and bent forward to kiss them. His lips lightly caress the tanned skin and he whispered huskily, “I knew you’d be there when I woke up.” Minho tightened his grip around Taemin and held on as though he never would let go.

         Minutes passed, and neither felt the weight of time pressed upon them. A companionable silence fell before them and Minho leaned back, closed his eyes and savoured the touch of Taemin’s cheek on his chest and his smooth head nestled perfectly against his collar-bone. A few minutes more, and the two of them fell back into a hazy sleep.

        The sudden realization of his being late for soccer practice spurned Minho into sudden wakefulness. He sat up straight, upsetting Taemin’s comfortable position nestling against him and swore as the clock struck five past eight. “I’m late!” He groaned, flew out of the sofa, stubbed his toe against the small table before him and hopped around in anguish. Taemin grinned. It was amusing how curiously childish the whole activity had been. Minho threw Taemin a reproachful glance and hurried inside his bedroom. “I’m late for soccer practice!” He called out, “Hurry up and get dressed. You’re coming with me!”

        Taemin closed his eyes and sank back into the comfort of the sofa. “Leave practice today, Minho.” He answered lazily, “It’s okay to skip one day, right? You’re late anyway.”

“No, no, no! No can do!” Minho emerged from his bedroom unsteadily, pulling a shirt over his head. “Get ready! Or come as you are, I don’t mind.” Taemin looked down at his yellow flannel pyjamas and laughed. “You idiot,” Taemin shook his head indulgently and slithered onto the ground. In a few minutes, he had changed into black jeans and a thin shirt. He laughed as Minho pulled on his socks while unsuccessfully struggling to brush his teeth with his free hand. Finally, when he had put on every last particle of clothing, the clock showed a malevolent quarter past eight.

“What time did your practice start?” Taemin asked as they jogged out of the house into the chilly morning.

“Eight,” Minho muttered.

“Eight?” Taemin asked incredulously, “That’s not bad. You’re hardly late. You make it sound as though it’s a calamity to enter a few minutes late.”

“Oh it’s a calamity alright. I’ll have to run a hideous amount of laps now,” he groaned, “Every minute late accounts for five extra laps.”

“Come on, don’t look so disheartened. I bet you can run those laps like that!” Taemin snapped his fingers together, “Plus, I’ll be running with you right?”

“Fat lot of help you are!” Minho said gruffly. But Taemin noticed the corners of his mouth crease into a concealed smile. He laughed and brushed his fingers softly against Minho’s palm.

       As they darted into the huge soccer field, Minho’s heart sank as he caught sight of the coach’s stern expression. Taemin looked over at the stocky man shouting instructions to the players in his black and white uniform and felt a sudden urge to stick his tongue out at him. There was something about that man that seemed to evoke the most unpleasant of feelings in Taemin. There was something about the way he his salt and pepper beard and stood with his feet apart. He had a nasty glower in his eyes, a cruel mouth and unfriendly eyes hidden behind bushy eyebrows. As Minho jogged towards him, his thin lips curled into a sneer. “Well, look who decided to show up.” His voice was rough and jagged, hoarse from shouting instructions for the better part of his life.

Minho stood respectfully before him, his head bowed and hands cupped. “I’m extremely sorry, Sir. It shall not happen again.”

The coach grunted dismissively and muttered, “Go take your laps, son. You were twenty minutes late. Do the math yourself and figure out the amount of laps you need to complete.”

“Hundred.” Taemin rolled his eyes defiantly, much to Minho’s horror and amusement, “It’s not that hard to calculate.”

The coach turned to look at him with a frigid gaze. “Who is this loud mouth you’ve picked up and why is he talking?”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Minho replied between splutters of trying to control his laughter, “He’s a friend of mine; not from around here. He doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s okay,” The stocky man replied grudgingly, “but you best watch your mouth, young man.” And Taemin glared at him in reply.

       Minho suppressed his growing urge to laugh and pulled Taemin away. Soon they were sprinting along the boundaries of the field. The gentle wind brushed smoothly against their flushed cheeks. Minho ran a hand through his windswept hair and took a furtive glance at the tornado running beside him. Taemin’s cheeks glowed a deep red that went perfectly with the rebellious expression of his features.

“I don’t know why you put up with that man!” Taemin began angrily as they quickened their pace against the soft blowing breeze.

       “Maybe it’s because he’s a brilliant coach and doesn’t mean half the things he says.” Minho replied, smiling, “He has a rough exterior. But he’s a nice person and all he cares about is the team. Everything he says or does is always in the best interests of the team.” His voice dropped to a gentle whisper, “And also maybe because he was the man who was there for me during the traumatic aftermath of my parents’ deaths.”

         Minho noticed Taemin’s wide eyes fixed unblinkingly on him. “I was quite young, you know. And the full impact of what I had witnessed hit me only a few years after. It was then that I came across Mr. Kim, that’s his name. He was there for me in his gruff, patronizing manner. He was rough, uncouth at times, but it comforted me to no end just knowing he was present. I joined the soccer team for him too; to break out of the confines I had locked myself in. So you see, each soccer practice represents much more than a simple activity to me. It’s something I look forward to, something that allowed me to be free.”

        Taemin looked away, his eyes gazing an empty gaze into the far beyond. He bit his lip and then beamed, “Alright then. I’ll apologize to him once we finish these laps okay? And, as a bonus, we’ll take him out for coffee? How does that sound? You think he’ll come? He does seem like a coffee person. I hope he’ll come. Or what does lunch sound like? Maybe we can take him out for lunch!”

      “Calm down there, Taemin!” Minho laughed, holding out his hands to shield himself from the onslaught of Taemin’s vigorous words. “You needn’t do any of that! I just gave you all that background information to help you see him in a better light, notwithstanding all of his harshness. You needn’t apologize if you don’t want to and you definitely needn’t take him out for lunch!”

        Taemin grinned but refrained from answering. Instead he glanced at his wrist watch and panted, “You know it’s already half past eight, and we’ve completed what, ten rounds? We’ll never finish the remaining in time! Why don’t we scoot off somewhere? I’m sure your nice-hearted, rough coach won’t mind. Even if he does, I’ll take him out for coffee and set the record straight. Sound good? See that nice huge tree there? We’ll go sit under it, how does that sound? Which tree is that anyway?”

        Minho shifted his gaze to the tree in question and answered doubtfully, “I think it’s a cedar tree. I couldn’t say for sure though. And we’re definitely not skipping practice! I mean, you can. Hell, why are you even running with me? These are my laps!”

        “Yeah, okay,” Taemin mumbled absently, “Cedar tree, did you say?” His forehead suddenly creased into a frown of intense concentration. Suddenly he slapped his head and shouted out, “Of course! The Cedar Tree! Don’t you remember, Minho? The last day of playschool we had buried the most important of our things under a huge cedar tree! It’s kind of like a time capsule now that I think about it. I wonder how I didn’t remember this sooner! Minho, just think of all the things we might have buried! Don’t you want to go dig it up? Aren’t you in the least bit excited?”

       “I doubt it’ll even still be there.” Minho said nonchalantly. But he could not hide the excitement that was growing within him. He wondered what it would be like to take in his arms, things that had once been his; things that had long since left his memory but which were once a most important part of his life. He wondered if the tangibility of the buried treasures would perhaps bring back another one of the reminiscences he had come to enjoy so thoroughly. He murmured thoughtfully, “It wouldn’t hurt to try to look for them. I hope whatever we buried will still be there.”

        “Of course it will!” Taemin said breezily. “I’m sure we were smart enough as kids to bury it really well. Interestingly enough, even I can’t remember what I buried. I wonder.”

        “We’ll go right after practice, alright?”

       “What?” Minho grinned as he caught sight of Taemin’s dismayed expression. Taemin whined, “Why can’t we go now?” His eyes were wide open and beseeching. His breathing was hitched and his brow was covered in sweat. Minho had never before seen such a picture of wide-eyed innocence and shrewd-mouthed devilry existing in such peaceful harmony. “Why?” Taemin repeated indignantly, “Why not now?”

         Minho stopped in his tracks to ruffle Taemin’s sweat-drenched locks and planted a soft hasty kiss on his flushed cheeks. “Because you’re adorable,” he chuckled.

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I deserve to be shot. More like drawn, quartered and walked off a plank. Can I stress just how sorry I am for not updating this whole time? I promise the updates will come better. I was suffering from a monumental writer's block but now I've listed the ideas I want to touch upon the next chapters, so the updates will be marginally less erratic. Sue me, gah.
Thanks to all my subbies and upvoters and readers, if anyone's still reading this. I'm a terrible person. /cries