Passers-by would stop and stare at the curious sight of a slender flaxen-haired boy eagerly pulling a tall grinning lad. Taemin’s smile spread from ear to ear as he nimbly evaded the onslaught of crowd. Minho shook his head in faint bemusement as he wondered, for the umpteenth time; why he went along with Taemin’s hare-brained schemes. It was a glorious day. The sun shone brightly against the pale blue skies. The birds twittered in their nests. The lonesome roads were as yet untouched by the current of honking cars and swearing individuals.

Taemin looked back suddenly at Minho and murmured, “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

        Minho looked around. It wasn’t often that he stopped to stare at the beauties of nature. It wasn’t often that his senses which were more adapted to seeing the worst in things, caught sight of a pleasure so surreal. Almost involuntarily, a sigh left his lips. “Yes,” he smiled back at Taemin, “it is a beautiful day.” He wondered why he never before had the time to look around and take in the soft beauty surrounding him. “Do you always look around, Taemin? Do you always manage to find something nice in everything and everybody?” He asked softly, his eyes gazing into the distance. Taemin squeezed his fingers laughed a gentle laugh in reply.

       As they neared the lush green fields adjoining their playschool, a stream of chubby, laughing toddlers wobbled along on their plump feet. Taemin and Minho stopped and gazed affectionately at the cute kids making their careful way through the large metal gate and into their playschool. A few bawled hysterically for their mothers while a few skipped by nonchalantly. Taemin laughed and looked at Minho with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You know, you were quite the cry-baby when we were small.” Minho stuck his tongue out at Taemin in a sudden burst of childishness. Gawking for a few seconds in surprise, Taemin burst into a rich laughter. A few seconds later, Minho joined in too.

“I never thought I’d live to see you do that!” Taemin exclaimed, between his laughter.

Minho clutched his stomach weakly and admitted, “I never thought I’d live to do that either!”

       A sudden at the back of his legs made Minho turn around in surprise. Looking down, he spotted a plump little darling dressed adorably in short blue pants and a collared white shirt. Minho bent down on his knee and smiled at the small boy. The chubby little kid cheekily hid his face behind his hands. Minho noticed two mischievous blue eyes peeking from behind. He tweaked the little kid’s ear playfully and asked, “What’s your name, little man?”

“Jonghyun,” He declared proudly. “I am three years old.” He added for good measure.

       Taemin kneeled down and patted the little kid’s blonde hair. He leaned in and whispered, “Do you want to know a secret? Your hyung here,” Taemin pointed slyly towards Minho, “His best friend’s name was Jonghyun when he was three years old!” Taemin stifled a laugh as he noticed Minho’s gentle brown eyes widen just as much as the small boy’s. “Really?” The little boy asked as he threw his arms around Minho. “You are my bestest friend!” Minho patted his back vaguely and looked expectantly at Taemin.

“Did I really have a friend named Jonghyun? Do you know him? Can we meet him?” He asked eagerly as the little kid perched himself comfortably on Minho’s knee.

         Taemin laughed and shook his head, “I’m afraid not. Only you know anything at all about Jonghyun. All I know about Jonghyun is that he was extremely short.” Taemin eyes twinkled in the morning sun.

“All this sounds very suspicious.” Minho narrowed his eyes.

Taemin shook his head amusedly, “He was your imaginary friend, Minho. You used to guard him so fiercely. Sometimes, I was almost jealous of him!”

       Minho’s plump lips curved into a beautiful smile. He felt a sudden warmth penetrate into his being. The simple thought of his having an imaginary friend seemed to awaken a soft glow in him. Perhaps, it was a symbol of joy to him, a symbol of his having had a normal childhood after all. Perhaps, it tore him away from the darkness that had shrouded him during his later years. Perhaps it told him that he too had every right to be happy. There was something so quaint, so childlike in being told of a friend he once had. He smiled at his choice of name: Jonghyun and laughed as he cradled the young namesake seated contentedly on his knee.

“You look happy.” Taemin observed softly. He brushed the tips of his fingers against Minho’s smooth hair. “I love it when you’re happy.”

       Minho smiled and nuzzled the little boy before him. “We are best friends, okay?” He told the small boy, “Forever and ever.” He held out his fist and the young boy bumped it clumsily with his own, his red face widening into a toothy smile. He stumbled forward and ran ahead. Looking back, he called out to them, “Bye-bye, hyung! Bye-bye, bestest friend!” Minho waved back happily.

       Taemin gazed at Minho’s upturned lips and twinkling eyes and smiled instinctively. He extended his arm and intertwined his fingers with Minho’s. Minho looked at him in faint surprise as Taemin bent low and planted a soft kiss on the back of Minho’s hand. “You look the best when you smile, Minho,” he said tenderly, “I wish you’d always smile.” Minho’s eyes softened as they looked at the light haired boy. Minho’s ears’ caught the wistfulness in his tone. He wondered how a person could be as pure, as true as Taemin in a world so ravaged. He wondered how a person so utterly unsuited to the harshness of the world could survive so. He wondered how a person as perfect as that could now be his.

“Thank you,” said Minho quietly. “I’ve never quite smiled this much before you made me.”

        They stood up and walked silently towards a vast cedar tree. Its branches leaned entreatingly towards them. Its leaves fluttered in the swaying winds, calling out to them. Its trunk boasted of their little footprints and its roots uttered stories of their childhood. Taemin’s eyes brightened as they stopped before its sprawling hugeness. Minho looked interestedly at the tree, thinking of all the memories he might have cultivated here. He placed one tentative palm on its trunk and smiled.

“It seems almost familiar,” he murmured.

        Taemin looked at him with smiling eyes. He placed his own white hand over Minho’s. The touch of their skin and the touch of the tree ignited in Minho a sudden spark. His heart beat furiously. And the wheels of his mind whirred into motion. A sudden picture of a world so beautiful shuddered through Minho’s mind. It was a fleeting moment of beauty. Minho felt the world around him burst into a sudden vibrancy of colours. Never before had the brown of the earth, the blue of the sky or the green of the grass touched his heart so. He glanced behind at Taemin; he seemed almost ethereal in that moment. Minho stretched a hesitant arm and grasped at Taemin blindly. Taemin looked at him in surprise. His eyebrows were raised questioningly.

       Minho sighed in relief. “For a second there,” he muttered brokenly, “For a second there, I thought you weren’t real. I thought you were but a figment of my imagination, a spirit never to return, never to comfort me, never to be mine. I thought you had left me.” His voice dropped low and quivered.

      Taemin’s eyes shook slightly. He gulped back the growing lump in his throat and pulled Minho close. He wrapped his thin arms around his broad torso and clumsily patted his back. Bringing his trembling lips close to Minho, he whispered, “I can hardly imagine the horrors you might have gone through, Minho. I cannot even come close to wondering what it must be like to you. But I try to understand your pain, darling, I try. And I know you have had more people leave you than enter your life. But believe me, Minho, believe me when I tell you I am going nowhere. That I will always be by you. I came back to you, didn’t I, even after thirteen years had elapsed? Remember this: if we ever part, we shall always meet again.”

        Minho clutched at him tightly for a few seconds. Then he abruptly pulled back and roughly brushed his arm against his eyes. “Thanks.” He muttered gruffly. Taemin smiled; he understood the unspoken words.

         They kneeled down on the wet earth below the tree. Taemin cautiously picked at some mud and said, “I think this was where we buried it. I hope it wasn’t buried too deep. Do you think it’ll still be there?”

         “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Minho grinned. His hands plunged into the wet earth and he dug furiously for a few minutes. Red earth covered his rough hands and his pants were smeared with grime. Taemin laughed and followed suit. Soon, they were covered in dust, grime and wet earth. “You look a sight!” Minho chuckled as he brushed his grimy hands against Taemin’s soft cheeks. Taemin stuck his tongue out and threw a mound of earth back at him, “You don’t look any better!”

        Suddenly, Minho held up one hand and exclaimed, “I think we’ve struck gold!” Slowly and gingerly, they extracted a battered shoe-box, tearing at the edges and falling apart in their hands. “I wish we had had the sense to use sturdier box.” Taemin muttered. Minho looked at him side-ways and grinned, an evil glint in his eyes, “I bet it was your idea.” Taemin daubed Minho’s face with his soiled hands in reply.

          They tenderly set their treasures of the past on the ground and sat cross-legged. Opening the box gently, they saw wide assortment of things, all small and inexpensive but monumentally dear to them. “What’s your favourite colour, Minho?” Taemin asked suddenly. Minho looked at him in faint astonishment but answered nonetheless, “Blue, I guess.” Taemin took out a thick blue crayon and stared at it in awe. “Look at that; your favourite colour hasn’t changed since playschool!” Minho took the thick crayon between his fingers and asked, “How do you know it’s mine?”

           “Because,” Taemin paused and extracted a similar green crayon, “This one is mine. Also you were really possessive and wrote your name on everything.” He said nonchalantly, “I bet if you looked around the crayon, you’d find your little demanding three-year-old handwritten name somewhere. Minho kicked him good-humouredly and held the crayon to the sun and looked it over. Sure enough, in a faint, scrawling script he noticed his name inscribed in a corner. “Wow.” He gazed at it in pure wonder for a few minutes. He lightly the inscription; a tangible memory of his childhood. “Amazing, isn’t it?” Taemin smiled and Minho nodded fervently.

            Calling the love that abounds between the two boys, a teenage love, would be nothing but a sacrilege. If one has to give that inexplicable entity of love a name, it wouldn’t be far to call it true. Their love isn’t one of those fickle emotions that emerge one day and vanish the other. It isn’t even love in the way most people think love is. Their love is felt through their every action. Their love is felt in their unsaid words. Their love is one that exists even when they aren’t aware of it. Their love is one that can never be broken.

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I cannot thank enough the readers who still read my story. I love all those who do, sincerely, because you've kept up with my erratic updating schedule. I love you subscribers too. <3333

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