I tried to convince Minho into buying a new couch for our apartment because the present one wasn’t long enough for me to stretch out my legs. I guess he wasn’t really persuaded by my arguments of getting a three-sitter. I sulked for the next couple of minutes before Minho cradled me in his arms and nibbled my ear lobe seductively. That was how we conclude all our disagreements for the next three years; we didn’t get into huge fights or throw huge fits at each other.

Minho told me later on that he was actually a landscape artist and drawing portraits was never his forte. The portrait of me that he drew at the coffee shop on the day we first met was his first attempt. I had to admit that it was nothing comparable to the landscapes he drew, but that particular art piece was framed up and placed at a cozy corner of the sitting room.

He said that I didn’t have to be photogenic to turn out like a model on his drawing block; Minho then, took every single opportunity that he had to draw me in the most pathetic looking states ever. At times, I would wake up in the morning and catch him sketching little portraits of me in my awkward sleeping positions and messy bed-hair.

“You should stop drawing portraits of me at times like this, Minho.”

“My Taemin looks the best when he’s sleeping.” He pressed his lips against mine for a few seconds before I started combing my hair between my fingers.

“Draw me like one of your French girls.” I replied jokingly and wrapped my arms around Minho’s thighs.

“That’s a great idea, Taemin. Take off your clothes then.”

“What?” Putting down the pencil and drawing block on the side table, Minho lay down on the bed once again and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“You know, it’s 9am right now and it’s a Saturday Morning.” I could feel his arms creeping beneath my T-shirt.

“So?”

“Well, testosterones peak at 9am in the morning.” He began to bruise his lips against mine and nibble my bottom lip softly, “And it’s even higher for me on a Saturday morning.”

“Don’t you want to sketch anymore?” I replied shyly, but oh damn it, I could not hide the adrenaline rush when his cold finger tips brush against my back.

“I want to, but I will guide you in taking your clothes off.”

“That’s the worst pick up line to have in the morning, Minho.” My actions did not synchronize with my words though; I began to shower his lips with my kisses and caress his back gently.

“It’s a good pick up line for you.”

He took off my clothes, yes. But he didn’t draw me like one of his French girls, thank goodness.

… …. …. ….

Key was probably a source of comfort for Minho and in a much better position to be with him than me. The blonde lad whom was two years older than I was entered the room in confusion. He looked at me with knitted eyebrows, all ready to demand an explanation from me. But I was an idiot full of ego and I didn’t want to tell Key that Minho could not remember his present spouse but yearned for his past lover instead.

What happened, Taemin Key beamed at me.

I don’t know I shook my head and watched as he approached Minho.

“Key, you are finally here!” Key replied with an awkward smile and patted Minho’s head, “Take me home, would you?”

Then, the both of them shifted their gazes to me. The patient stared at me uncomfortably while the latter bit his lips apologetically.

“Minho, you are suffering from retrospective amnesia. The doctor says you have to get back to your normal lifestyle.” I walked towards the bed and curled my lips up forcefully, “With me.”

“My normal lifestyle was staying with Key.” Minho drew his knees up to his chest and stared blankly at his blanket in silence, “I can’t possibly live with a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger, Minho.”  

It was then when Key rested his hand on Minho’s shoulder, “If staying at my place could make Minho feel better then—”

Key sounded gibberish and it added on to my frustration.

“I thought you were supportive, Key.”

“I am. But Minho needs a suitable place to recuperate.” I ruffled my hair between my fingers and finally lose my cool. I tried so hard to convince myself that it wasn’t Minho’s fault and I should understand, but Key was an entirely different issue. He wasn’t helping at all.

“Just get the hell over Minho, Key. He is my spouse, my partner and not yours.”

“I am not trying to ruin your relationship. I’m just trying to help him as a friend.”

“As an ex-lover, you mean. I thought you could understand and help me.”

“Shut up!” Minho yelled and buried his head between his knees. “God damn it. My head hurts like hell.”

I sat down on the chair beside his bed and sighed in exasperation. It was a moment like this when I finally thought of Onew and realized that he was right all the time. He was right about the that’s tearing our relationship apart; it was a moment like this when I felt guilty for ignoring Onew and forgot about his existence when I got Minho.

I wished he was here so that he could lend me his shoulder and probably tell Minho that he was a total .

“Key.” Minho mumbled, “I need a word with Taemin.”

I didn’t lift my head up till Key left the room—I just had enough time to wipe the tears and mucus off before I faced Minho.

“I will go with you, Taemin.”

“What?”

“I said I will go with you.” Minho picked up the ring that he left on the side table, “We will lead the life we used to have and I will try my best to remember all the moments that we had together.”

“Aren’t you worried that our relationship was actually terrible?” He lifted up his hand with hesitation and wiped the tears off my cheeks.

“If it was terrible, you wouldn’t have cried like this.” Slivering his lips weakly, he inserted the titanium ring into his index finger.

… …. …. …

Minho stood at the doorway in our apartment and was slightly taken aback by drastic change in his apartment that he did not have any recollection of. His furniture used to be dull in the past—a black PCV couch, 4 white painted walls and a plasma television were the only things in his sitting room. It was too bare for my liking and his taste changed over time as we lived together.

Only the plasma television remained when we did a huge makeover for the living room. The black PCV couch was discarded and replaced with a two-seater red sofa which was a little too small for me. We repainted the white walls during one of the weekends and added a few more photo frames to it.

Everything seemed alien to him right now.

“We decided to change a little.” I smiled and left his bag beside the sofa. I noticed how Minho frowns when he looked at certain areas of the room, hinting that he didn’t like that particular area. It was then when he stopped in front of the framed portrait of me that he drew. I walked towards him and smiled childishly.

“You drew this.”

“I draw portraits?”

“This is your first attempt. You drew even more during the past two years.” Wrapping my arm around his waist was something I would do naturally; he would then do the same and push me even close to him. However, his immediate response for my action this time was to shudder away from me in shock and bit his lips in embarrassment.

“I… I’m sorry Minho.”

“Is this what we used to do?” I nodded my head and began to keep my distance from Minho.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay. We can do everything else but this can wait.” Minho smiled awkwardly and walked towards our bedroom.

Yes…he needed the time. I tried my best to convince myself, but my heart told me otherwise.