“Minho, you must remember me! We kissed in playschool!”

            Even as the words left Taemin’s upturned lips, he was suddenly struck anew by the childishness of the statement. He had never felt this before. As he looked at Minho incredulous face, somewhere down the line, Taemin realised that the words that left his mouth weren’t as beautiful or as mesmerising as they had seemed to Taemin before. Watching Minho’s mature face, impressive stance and practical demeanour, made Taemin wholly aware of the situation he was in. Suddenly, his childhood love seemed impractical and ridiculous, to say the very least. Suddenly, Taemin realised just how juvenile his behaviour was. Taemin felt a sudden urge to run away from the situation as fast as he could, but his legs remained rooted to the spot. He eyed Minho cautiously, bracing himself to spill out a volley of apologizes and embarrassed smiles. He watched as a faint blush crept up Minho’s golden neck and adorned his glowing face.

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. The noise around here; it’s really too much! You didn’t just tell me that we’d kissed in playschool, did you?” Minho asked in his ringing tone, hoping his forced bemusement masked the utter bewilderment beneath.

           Taemin hesitated; part of him wanted to assure Minho that such words had never left his sacrosanct mouth, while another part of him yearned to see Minho’s reaction at his realising that that was the statement said by Taemin. He bit his lower lip hard, pausing as he weighed the situation. Then sighing, bracing himself for a possible hit or a disgusted walk-off, Taemin nodded dully, “I did say that, Minho, because we did kiss in playschool.”

              Taemin waited with bated breath, but Minho didn’t seem in a hurry to walk off. Rather he focused his brilliant, glimmering eyes on Taemin’s nervous face and asked, “Did that hit you somewhere, or assault you or something? Perhaps you’re suffering from a concussion?” The concern in his voice was evident. Apparently, Minho had mistaken Taemin’s statement as that of pure nonsense being spouted out of a man so clearly not in his sane mind.

“I’m not suffering from a concussion. I know perfectly well what I’m saying. Don’t you remember anything of your playschool days?” Taemin asked in a low voice, trying hard to mask the bitter disappointment. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Taemin thought. It was supposed to be a reunion of two souls who’d loved each other, who remembered each other and who thrived in each other’s presence. It was supposed to be a meeting with a warm embrace where the birds would titter, the zephyr would flow and flowers would release their beautiful scents. It wasn’t supposed to be one-sided; it wasn’t supposed to be like this! Their promise was to remember each other, until the end of their lives. Taemin had kept his side of the promise; why hadn’t Minho?

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Minho replied honestly. But with a slight quiver in his tone, he said, turning a shade more pink than usual, “But don’t you see how implausible it is? You – you’re a guy! And well, I’m really not ga-gay.”

           Taemin turned white as these words tumbled forth and slapped Taemin’s ears. Even in his wildest dreams, Taemin had never expected those words to fall out of his childhood lover’s lips. Taemin had never really given the matter much thought, nor had he ever felt that his kissing another boy was anything but ordinary. He had never focussed much on the aspect of genders involved in love. To him, it was pure, pure love and for the life of him, he couldn’t conceive how genders played a role in it. He had simple rules of love; if you are in love with someone, you just are. There’s nothing more to it. He had never thought of himself as gay, not that he would have minded it. But hearing the word slip out so very callously from Minho’s mouth, made it feel almost like an insult. You don’t have to be gay; Taemin thought sadly, you just need to be in love.

“Listen up, uh...Taemin, why don’t you go home and rest for a while?” Minho suggested hesitatingly, knowing very well that his words had stabbed Taemin’s fragile exterior callously, “I do think you could do with a bit of respite. Where do you live? I’ll drop you there and you can wake up with a clearer mind.”

“I – I don’t live here,” Taemin said blankly and indeed he didn’t. He had made no arrangements for stay; his beaming heart just involuntarily assumed that his lover would take him in. He realised now how foolish his thoughts had been, now that his lover refused to even acknowledge the fact that he remembered him. Perhaps that’s why they say love is blind. It blinds you, covers you with a veil of pleasurable emotions so much so that when reality strikes, you can barely steer yourself.

“Well then where do you live? It’s alright if it’s far away, I can drive you down. No worries.”

“You misunderstood me; I have no place to go.”

“You’re homeless?!”

               Those incredulous words left Minho’s mouth even before he could register them. It all seemed so strange. The boy swaying before him didn’t seem homeless; he seemed sane, rather affluent if you noticed the rich material of his clothes and his perfectly smooth skin.

“That depends on you. If you can drive me down to China, I won’t be homeless; if you can’t, I guess I am.” Taemin smiled a little enigmatic smile; tinges of sadness seem to accompany it.

“Right, you just arrived from China this morning, didn’t you? Haven’t you made arrangements for stay?”

           Taemin didn’t reply; how could he? How could he tell that lovely being before him that he had expected his lover, his Minho to remember him? How could he convey to that creature before him that he had supposed his Minho to welcome him, carry him off in his arms as only the happy endings in movies would picture. How could he tell him that he had entertained notions such that his Minho would lead him lovingly into his home that they’d live together for a while, going over their thirteen years of being apart from each other? He couldn’t convey all this to Minho, he couldn’t! Not when Minho barely recognized him, not when Minho wouldn’t believe him, not when Minho thought of him as a homoual and not a person in love. So he stood there, gazing away into the distance, thinking of how foolish he’d been. He realised now that he should have made arrangements; he should have anticipated this, however harsh it seemed. But, he hadn’t. He still remembered how sure he’d been that his Minho would love him, just as he’d loved him that glorious time before. Perhaps he was far too naive to believe in such a notion. Or perhaps, he had never felt the urge to grow up.

            Minho reddened a little at Taemin’s poignant silence. He bit his lip and rubbing the back of his neck realised the reason for the silence. “Oh,” Minho said blankly, “You thought I’d let you stay with me?” Even as he said the words, Minho hoped it wasn’t the case. He hoped this slender beauty before him wasn’t about to give a nod. He felt Taemin slowly register his words and give a small jerk of his head, signalling his assent. Minho felt a sudden indiscernible anger rage within him, not at the lean boy before him, but at himself. He reproached himself suddenly and felt himself to be far too inconsiderate. He tugged at his shirt before asking, “What’re you going to do now then?”

              Minho felt himself blush at his own rudeness and uncouth behaviour. He had, without the slightest bit of consideration, made it clear to Taemin that he was on his own. Minho looked away and waited as Taemin said slowly, softly, almost as though he were talking to himself, “Indeed, what am I going to do? I could go back to China, I suppose.”

              The lingering tone, the evident poignancy in the voice did not go unnoticed by Minho. He rebuked himself a little for being ever so practical and unyielding and wondered what it would be like to accept things as they came. He wondered suddenly why he couldn’t be as impulsive as that boy standing before him; perhaps then he would have made place for that enigmatic boy in his heart. But Minho couldn’t, he was too far-gone for embracing impulsiveness again. The best he could do now was make sure Taemin reached home safely, nothing more. He plunged his fingers into his left pant-pocket and extracted his sleek phone from within.

“Here, you can call someone to pick you up if you like, maybe let your...uh...parents know that you’re coming back. I mean, you have told them about your little excursion, yes?” Minho said, while extending the phone hesitatingly towards Taemin.

               Taemin brushed his long, beautiful, thick locks away from his sad eyes, before accepting the phone with a grateful gesture. Minho watched unblinkingly as Taemin punched in a few numbers even as his tongue stuck out of his pearly white teeth adorably. Minho watched warily as Taemin placed the phone close to his beautifully moulded rosy cheek, waiting for the person at the other line to pick up. Within Minho, a clearly wreaking turmoil brewed fiercely. A part of Minho thought with perfect satisfaction that he was soon to be rid of that boy who had the audacity to identify him, Choi Minho, as ually askew. But another part of him suddenly seemed to hope ferociously that no one would pick up and Taemin would be compelled to stay back. He tried hard to suppress the latter emotions with his practicality, reasoning with himself that Taemin would be nothing more than a good-looking burden. But as he glanced at the poignant line Taemin’s mouth was set in, as he spoke to presumably one of his parents on the line, Minho felt the disappointment raging in Taemin’s demeanour. He couldn’t bear it, somehow. Seeing Taemin disappointed was strange to the extent that it made Minho almost fearful. Minho bit his tongue and hurriedly strode forward, grabbing his phone from Taemin’s surprised hands just as Taemin was about to assure the other person of his home-coming.

“You can stay with me.” Minho said abruptly, looking everywhere that he could without his eyes chancing on Taemin’s astonishment. “I wouldn’t want to be the reason for you to go back from a place you haven’t been to in years. It’s perfectly fine with me. You can stay; I have a few empty rooms anyway and I’m in dire need of human company.” All that spouted out of his mouth was nothing short of well-framed excuses. Minho didn’t know it himself, but somewhere in his heart, a fragment of it which he had fought hard to keep frozen, was thawing rapidly. Taemin excited a part of him he couldn’t conceive. He suddenly didn’t want Taemin to go, despite all of his eccentricities. He wanted to learn to be as impulsive and head-strong as Taemin was.

            Taemin smiled tentatively; a beautiful, beautiful smile that was nothing short of mesmerizing. His little pink petals of a lip curled upward in a motion so fluid that it seemed synonymous to music. Minho felt his shy joy emanate from his slender frame and Minho lost himself in the beauty of the other; not as a lover, or so he told himself, but as something of an admirer of art. He wished to admire the subtle elegance of the other.

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You know how amazing you people are? <3 I love you all for commenting, alright? So here's my early update! This is more of a filler chapter but the fun starts soon. Stay tuned! :D