Two young men strode silently past the scorching avenues and honking vehicles. One was slender, beautiful, innocent and utterly adorable. He had an air of perfect nonchalance and omnipresent awe about him. The other was tall, strong, athletic and utterly swoon-worthy. He had an air of slight impatience and a demeanour that seemed to warn the onlooker that he wasn’t about to tolerate too much nonsense. Yet, despite the contradictory characteristics, they walked together amiably enough, occasionally stealing glances at each other without the other’s notice; one trying to gauge how much the other had changed, and the other trying to gauge how childlike the first was.

             Taemin tilted his head slightly toward the right and gazed at Minho cautiously. He couldn’t believe how much the other had changed, or perhaps it was his lack of embracing adulthood that made him feel that way. Even so, within the very crevices of his heart, he harboured a slight hope that Minho might come to love him one day, one beautiful day. He didn’t in the least mind waiting; it was what he had done for the past thirteen years. And Minho’s little gesture of permitting him to stay in his home had served well to ignite that little hope with a vengeance. Perhaps, one day Minho would remember him as the lover he had embraced in playschool and the one and only he had kissed back then.

               Meanwhile, in the intervals between Taemin’s furtive glancing, Minho took up the same action with a slightly more wary eye. He took a long side-glance at Taemin and wondered helplessly just how perfectly clueless a person could be. Even as he let those thoughts flit through his brain, he went over the words Taemin had uttered so profoundly before, setting in the discomfort overwhelmingly. Formerly, he remembered how he had disregarded those words as something being said by a person so obviously affected by a fall or a similar such accident. But now, Minho seemed to question his own integrity. Was it possible that such things had occurred in playschool? He couldn’t bring himself to believe so, but neither could he completely convince himself that he couldn’t. After all, he had changed a lot. The counsellor had said that there wouldn’t be many behavioural impacts of that incident, it would probably only affect his memory a ‘wee little bit’ as she had put it. But Minho knew from his long hours of internet research that a traumatic incident could as far as completely wipe out a person’s memory as could it completely change his personality traits. Perhaps Minho had been affected in both ways.

           So, neither boy spoke a word, immersed so deeply in their own reflections and thoughts. And they walked together, silently not caring to begin conversing but not feeling awkwardness either. Perhaps that was what a comforting silence was.

            Minho led the way into a grassy pathway before stopping in front of a slanting building. Taemin stared up at the roof involuntarily, his mind recollecting fairies and magic. The house seemed just the same to Taemin. Perhaps the colour had been recoated, the doors had been refurnished, but essentially it was pretty much the same. Taemin smiled as he recognised the same old knocker that adorned the door and the same imposing keyhole that Minho gingerly placed the key into.

“The guest rooms are a little dusty right now; I’ll have them cleared for you by tomorrow. Until then you can just use my room. I’ll...uh...use my parents’ room.” Minho said distantly as they walked into the house with Taemin admiring every aspect of the house he remembered.

“Oh it’s no problem; I can sleep on the couch if you like. Or I could sleep in your parents’ room. You can have your own room.” Taemin said, not wishing to be too much of a burden.

“No, you sleep in my room!” Minho said curtly, almost harshly. Taemin stared at him a few moments before silently nodding in assent.

“My room is – ” Minho began, but Taemin cut through eagerly, “Oh, I know where your room is! I’ve been here so many times!” And he skipped forward, directly into Minho’s room, leaving Minho wondering if there wasn’t some truth in Taemin’s ridiculous statement after all; because he did seem as though he had frequented Minho’s house often. He stared as Taemin disappeared into his room, unhesitatingly. It was unnerving somehow.

           Taemin walked inside the huge room; in his awed eyes, it hadn’t changed one bit. Of course there were a few changes in the interiors; sure signs of growing up. But essentially, it was every bit like it used to be. Like any other teenager’s room, it was filled with crudely pasted posters of sport-stars, singers, bands and whatnot. Not a spare portion of the wall had been left uncovered, rather it seemed almost as though every spare portion had been forcibly pasted. It seemed almost as though the posters were there to block out something that could seep in through the walls. Taemin shook off the intriguing thought and walked around the room once, drinking in the comforting familiarity and love that the room reminded him of. It brought back lovely, lovely memories of afternoons spent with his playschool lover. It brought back his love.

             Taemin walked to the lone bed standing ever so erectly in the middle of the room and sat down on it, sinking into it, soaking into the reminiscences that overpowered him. He could remember every bit of his playschool so clearly, that it seemed almost incredible that Minho couldn’t remember it at all. Taemin lightly patted the soft bed covers and out of an instinctive impulse dropped to his knees and crawled under the bed, feeling the sudden darkness fall over him. Nostalgia struck.

               Two little boys, aged nought but four ran along as fast as their short little legs could carry them. The slightly taller one with wavy brown hair and beautifully rounded eyes was behind the other who was slightly built with long fair locks. Minho easily caught up to Taemin, as they huffed and puffed in enjoyment. Minho ran with a sudden burst of speed, hoping to catch Taemin before he got away. And he did, but his four-year old self didn’t feel the need to come to a stop and down they both went, laughing and giggling as they fell. They fell down clumsily and a cloud of dust erupted as they began laughing uncontrollably.

“You catched me.” Taemin said mournfully, throwing a little sand into Minho’s rosy face. Minho laughed in response and nodded, “Yes I did! I catched Taemin! I catched Taemin!”

“I won’t play this stupid game now. I lost.” Taemin crossed his little, stubby arms across his chest and declared with the decisive pout. “I want to play something else!”

“I have an idea! We’ll play at my housie!” Minho said happily, looking towards Taemin.

Taemin nodded in assent and asked, “Where is your housie?”

“Follow me!” Minho chirped, grasping Taemin’s little gloved hand in his own. They began their little march towards Minho’s home, on their musical shoes and little legs. Minho led the way and they walked through the hedges, the grasses, the pavements and roads, unmindful of the honking cars and the swearing drivers. It was a little adventure for them, with their hands intertwined and their hearts beating with the excitement of straying away alone, away from the eyes of a usual elder. Minho puffed up his mouth as he struggled to remember the way back to his home and Taemin sauntered along, happy to follow Minho. They ran along sometimes, while walking at a leisurely pace across things of beauty. They enjoyed their little journey immensely.

           Finally, after a volley of wrong turns and blind crosses, they reached a tall, imposing house that towered over them. To their little statures, the house was nothing less than a mansion and Taemin stared at it in wonder, standing on his tip-toes, extending his little arm, trying in vain to touch pointed roof of the house. Minho giggled at Taemin’s vain attempt and shaking his head, he said, “You can’t touch it!”

“I can too!” Taemin pouted, pursing his little lips and stretching out further.

“No you can’t!” Minho shook his little head decisively.

“Says who?” Taemin demanded, sticking out his little red tongue as he exerted himself more.

“Says the little fairy who lives there. She doesn’t like people touching her.” Minho revealed conspiratorially to a wonder-struck Taemin. Taemin’s eyes widened at the revelation and he stared respectfully at the roof.

“Come to my room!” Minho called out suddenly from inside, even as Taemin continued to stare at the roof, his innocent eyes catching wisps of fairy wings and shimmering fairy dust. Taemin tore his eyes away from the home of the fairy and ran inside, towards Minho’s voice. He tripped over his stubby feet and hastily fell into the room as Minho stood proudly by the long bed in its centre.

“I can make it night!” Minho said pompously as Taemin shook his head.

“No you can’t. Night only comes at night! It’s day now!” Taemin didn’t understand the mechanics of light and darkness too well, but his four-year old mind easily grasped the fact that night only came when darkness came.

Minho stuck his tongue out at Taemin before dropping to his knees and sliding underneath the bed. Taemin stared as he did so, screaming out, “Don’t go there! Monsters stay there! They’ll eat you for hullabaloo.” Taemin liked the word ‘hullabaloo’, he had heard his parents use it once and although he had not the slightest inkling as to what it meant, he thought it sounded grand in a sentence, so he repeated, “They’ll munch you for hullabaloo!”

He heard Minho’s little giggle erupt from beneath the bed as he called out, “Come here, scaredy-cat!”

“I’m not a scaredy-cat!” Taemin said indignantly and walked over to Minho’s bed to prove his valour. He stood there for a minute, before he felt a strong hand pull him down and inside the bed. His little mind registered the fact that the monster had first eaten off Minho before coming to Taemin. He shut his eyes tight and screamed out loud, thrashing wildly before a voice called out peevishly, “Why are you hitting me? I didn’t do anything bad!”

Taemin opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness all around him. Minho had made it night! He d around for Minho and clutched at him, “How did you make it night?”

“Secret!” Minho stuck his tongue out at Taemin, although it was quite wasted in the darkness of the surroundings. Taemin held onto Minho tightly, wondering over how day had turned so quickly into night. It was magical to him and he liked spending the darkness with Minho. They both lay down on the carpeted flooring and began counting away, till the farthest number they could reach.

           Taemin sat down in the mustiness of the underside of the bed reminiscing over the past. He chuckled as he remembered how easily Minho had beguiled him into believing that he could wield Magic. The downside of the bed still felt just as it used to be to Taemin, although Minho wasn’t with him this time. Taemin smiled in the darkness and added one thing in the little checklist of his mind – “When Minho remembers me, I will drag him down here and we shall lie down in each other’s arms.”

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A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVELY COMMENTS! New subbies, I love you and I'll love you more if you comment! <3 
Actually, the amount of people subbing to this astonishes me. WHY YOU ALL LIKE FLUFF SO MUCH? Like angst too, yes? ;_;