The rays of the warm, morning sun streamed through the clumsily drawn blinds and sneakily made its way to the two boys sleeping peacefully. The slightly taller one with dark hair and beautiful lips had his strong arm encircled round the other boy who was angelic and fair. They both lay, facing each other, enveloped in each other’s arms, seemingly at perfect peace with each other. It was as though they had known each other all their lives. Such was their familiarity as they breathed slowly, serenely and in perfect synchronization. There was an indescribable beauty about them. They individually seemed vulnerable in their sleep; vulnerable and timid. Yet, seen as one, there was a marked strength in them; a strength of unity and togetherness. It was as though their rightful places were by the other’s side.

           Minho awoke first, as the beam of light shone directly upon his chiselled features. He opened his eyes, blinked rapidly for a few minutes getting accustomed to the brightness of his surroundings and then looked around, as was his custom. Suddenly, he spotted that flaxen-haired angel sleeping serenely beside him. He recollected the night’s event and a hot blush crept up his fair neck even as he rubbed his rumpled hair embarrassedly. But he also noticed how he felt such a relief; how it felt as though a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He gazed affectionately at being beside him and lightly brushed away a few locks of Taemin’s hair that fell effortlessly over his closed eye-lashes. Everything about him was soft, gentle and serene. It somehow seemed as though he lived not in the world as us mortals, but in a beautiful world of his own where sorrow was inexistent.

         Minho slowly sat up, shaking his head vigorously as was his habit, almost as though he was trying to shake off the splitting headache that suddenly erupted in his temples. He groaned softly, making sure the sleeping soul beside him wasn’t disturbed. Then clutching his head with his long, slender fingers he hopped out of bed, staggered for a minute and then shuffling, made his way into the bathroom. Minho was not a morning person, not by a long shot. He quickly locked the door, pulled his shirt over his unkempt hair and turned the shower on. The droplets of cold water dripped over his silky hair, his sinewy body and his sculpted legs. He sighed in relief as the water covered every spare inch of his body, making him glisten. He was a beautiful sight really, breathing gently as he revelled in the showers of the morning.

             Meanwhile, a sudden lull in the sound of breathing, awoke Taemin as he realised Minho wasn’t with him anymore. He sat up, rubbed his eyes almost like a little child and slapped his face stupidly a few times to regain his consciousness. He blinked rapidly, looking around with his tousled head. A sudden click and the bathroom door swung open, almost as in a horror narration. And almost as though taunting reality, Minho stepped out, with a towel swing lazily over his shoulders and one tied almost cheekily round his waist. His beautiful sinews, taut muscles, and perfect torso were in full view and with the light of the morning sun gently caressing them, they had never been more beautiful. He stood there, gaping at the tousled haired boy sitting cross-legged, on the bed before him; while Taemin in his turn stared at the perfect being, standing exploited in front of him.

              Taemin didn’t blush, no. His gaze wouldn’t waver. He kept his eyes fixed on Minho’s body, watching the small droplets of water trickled down his abs. He let his eyes travel over the expanse of Minho’s flawless torso and in the light of the day, he was beautiful.

              Taemin didn’t stop staring; it wasn’t a erted glance, a shy one or anything expected for that matter. It was a gaze of pure and absolute reverence, of awe and wonder. Almost as though Taemin was seeing Minho in a whole new light suddenly. The air around them thickened with the unsaid words, the atmosphere turned almost alluring. Minho stared back defiantly, almost daring Taemin to break the silence. And such a silence had never been more revealing. Taemin parted his lips slowly, as though mulling over what should be said. But somehow, words never left the sanctity of his mouth. He involuntarily brought his palm to the lips and softly murmured, “Minho, you’re gorgeous.”

               There was something about the way it was said. It wasn’t said as praise, or a compliment or an implication of love, for that matter. It was just an assertion. It was a fact, that was stated and Taemin said it with perfect nonchalance. The words seem to echo in the space of the room, with every word louder than the one before. Minho averted his eyes and was conscious of a hot tan creeping up his exposed skin. He looked around, not knowing how to react. It seemed out of place to offer his gratitude, it seemed uncouth to walk off. The air around was almost stifling, choking him with the . So he used his only alternative. He laughed.

              Oh yes, he laughed; a deep-throated, beautiful laughter mocking the tension and the atmosphere and very soon, Taemin was in splits too. The room was filled with the tinkling laughter of two teenage boys, clutching at their sides and giggling uncontrollably. Minho caught sight of the beautiful creature before him laughing and in sudden inspiration picked up the towel from around his neck and threw it smack on the boy’s face. It landed on the tousled hair, pale-faced boy’s visage and Minho took that as an opportunity to re-enter the bathroom and heave a sigh of relief. Taemin bemusedly, removed the moist towel from his face and instinctively smelt it. It smelled lovely; an overpowering odour of masculinity and Minho. Taemin placed the towel round his own neck and got out of bed, jumping a little as his feet touched the cold flooring.

             Minho re-emerged, fully clothed this time and smiled uncertainly to Taemin. Taemin returned the gesture with a rich smile, bobbing his unkempt hair vigorously.

         “Go, have a bath.” Minho said softly, lightly patting the seat of Taemin’s pants. Taemin blushed at the touch, the redness showing clearly on his pale, beautiful face. He walked a little ahead, wishing his blush wasn’t quite so evident and said suddenly, clearly eager to provide a retort, “I won’t forget a towel, Minho, don’t worry.” Taemin winked suddenly while saying that. He didn’t know what was coming over him. The morning was intoxicating; it made him do things he had never done throughout his life.

         “I won’t mind if you do.” Minho said easily. The answer seemed to slip out of his mouth as simply as water, but somehow it was out of place. Minho clenched his own fist as he realised the meaning of the words that had wandered off so carelessly from his plump lips. He noticed Taemin turn even redder at his reply and instinctively felt an urge to kick himself. Somehow, flirting with the beautiful stranger he had seemingly kissed in playschool wasn’t quite on his agenda. Even so, he seemed to be getting on pretty well.

           “I’ll get going then.” Taemin muttered, short of running inside to hide his evidently hot face. Discomfiture suddenly seemed to have arose in the room and Minho heaved almost a sigh of relief as he heard the bathroom door swing shut with Taemin hopefully inside. It seemed that every time the two of them conversed, a sudden awkwardness would suddenly rear its angry, black, heavy head up and tear apart the rapport they had so painstakingly built between them. Sometimes, Minho wondered if it was only because of his pig-headedness which refused to acknowledge Taemin as something more than a good-looking friend. Maybe, just maybe he had to look further, beyond his horizons of societal rights and wrongs.

             Minho busied himself in the kitchen, fussing around as only he could. His nimble fingers which could scale perhaps the loftiest of heights, seemed useless when it came to culinary expertise. His hands pushed and dropped, salted when sugar was needed and sugared when salt was the need. But despite having cut himself on the innumerable glass jars more often than needed, he still managed to put up a relatively okay thermos of coffee and a perfectly normal looking pair of sandwiches. He hoped Taemin liked coffee, because there was nothing else he knew to cook. He set the tray on the little table out in the hall and waited patiently for Taemin, his ears pricking up at every slight sound that indicated his arrival.

               He heard the door swing open and knew Taemin would be out soon. But there seemed no more muffled sounds emerging from inside. Suddenly, a small, ashamed voice called out his name, “Minho...?” it asked tentatively.

“What happened, Taemin?” Minho yelled from outside. He had the decency to not barge in, unlike so many others.

“Umm...I don’t have any---” The voice seemed to drown out before Minho could understand what the matter was. He stood up and strained his ears, “I didn’t get you, Taemin. What did you say again?”

            “I don’t have any clothes, dammit!” The voice hissed suddenly and so comically that Minho could barely control his laughter. “I left my bag at the airport! Bring me something to wear please? The clothes I was wearing are sopping wet.” Minho was sure Taemin had mentally rebuked himself for that. Minho laughed a little and then walked into the room, rummaging in his closet for something that might not hang too loosely on that slender, delicate being. Finally finding something satisfactory, he walked towards the slightly open bathroom door and stuck one arm inside, with the clothes. His eyes stayed resolutely down; he was far too decent to attempt a ridiculous peek at what could possibly be the most beautiful body he might have ever seen. But more than anything else, he was afraid what his reaction would be if he did.

           But despite everything, he couldn’t resist a sly taunt, “Remembered your towel but forgot your clothes, eh?” and got an arrogant huff in return. The door shut and Minho raised his eyes up as the door motioned backwards, but notwithstanding all his decency, his eager eyes had caught sight of the smooth skin covering the body of the angel.

            He stood awestruck for a moment as his mind reverted to images of the hazy moisture that clouded Taemin’s body and the beautiful, smooth, pale skin that covered it. He seemed to glow almost in the image that instilled itself in Minho’s mind. Minho felt ashamed at having invaded the privacy of the other but basked in the warmth it sent to the very edges of his feet as he remembered that smoke, hazy outline his sly eyes had managed to catch. Taemin was beautiful, even . His torso had been so slender, so fragile almost. The water trickled down his chest so beautifully, it was like in synchronization with a music only they could hear. Minho bit his lip as he realised he wouldn’t mind kissing such a person, ever.

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Is this chapter too cheesy? Ah what the hell, I had fun writing it. I LOVE YOU PEOPLE. COMMENT AND MAKE MY DAY. <3