“Choi Minho”

            Minho jumped, unaccustomed to the now unfamiliar-yet-familiar voice. Onew raised an eyebrow at him quizzically, but Minho brushed the gesture off. He left the room, and like a spy, pressed his fingers to his ear, as if it would help him hear the Voice that was in his head.

“What do you want?” He whispered as he entered his room.

“I see you’re still surviving.”

“Yeah, if you want to call it that.”

“Is your heart not beating? Are you lungs not pumping oxygen throughout your body? You’re alive Choi Minho.”

Minho rolled his eyes at the Voice. “Listen Voice, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m trying to go back to normal after all of this.”

“You’re so grateful, Choi Minho. So I should leave you? Weren’t you just begging for me to guide you through this time?”

He scoffed. “And where were you when I needed you? Taking a vacation in my occipital lobe?”

The Voice laughed. “No, not quite. But if it’s what you want, Choi Minho. I’ll leave you.”

“Good riddance,”

“You know, your mother was already dead. There’s no need to be angry about Kibum now.”

“His name is Key.” Minho retorted.

The Voice said nothing.

Minho blinked, feeling slightly more sane than he had before, yet more confused. He walked back to the living room and dropped himself back on the spot next to Onew. Onew raised an eyebrow at him quizzically, but Minho brushed the gesture off again, turning his attention to the drama they watched.

            “Are you okay?” Onew asked. He hadn’t bothered Minho about the trial since the actual day of the trial, but because Minho seemed to be improving, Onew decided it would be a good time to ask.

            “Yeah,” He said, smirking. “I think I got rid of something that I didn’t want. I think I feel a lot better.”

            Onew nodded. “Good.”

            “Is it okay if I go out?” Minho asked, phone in hand.

            “Sure, go ahead. Be back by 8?” It was more of a demand than a question, but Onew never really imposed anything on the boy.

            Minho looked at the clock and then nodded. “Alright.” He dressed in simple cotton jeans and a shirt, noting the warmer spring temperature. He dialed the phone and it rang for a few seconds before a muffled voice answered.

            “Hyung!”

            “Hi, Taemin. Do you want to do something?”

            He could hear rustling on the other side of the phone and Taemin’s loud swallow before he spoke again. “Sure, anything. What do you have in mind?”

            “Are you hungry?”

            “Ah... hyung, I just finished eating. Anything else?”

            Minho smiled. “Meet me at the theme park in 20 minutes.”

            “Okay,” he said.

            Minho took his time to walk to the amusement park, stopping to pick some dandelions and violets off of the grass. He waited for a few minutes, following a squirrel around and snapping pictures of it on his phone. Taemin cleared his throat behind him.

            “Hyung, having fun?” He asked, smirking.

            Minho stood up. “It’s cute. What do you want to do?”

            Taemin shrugged.

            Minho smiled and grabbed his hand. “Follow me.” The boys trudged over the muddy ground, scattered leaves and twigs and finally reached the road. They crossed it carefully, watching for any cars that might pose a danger to them. He let go of the younger’s hand and went into the store. “Don’t follow me.”

            Taemin shrugged and played a game on his phone until MInho came back out, a bag in his left hand. Taemin reached out for it to see what was inside, but Minho pulled the bag away, giving Taemin a sneaky glance.

            “Not yet, maknae.” He said. They joined hands again and went back to the theme park, but this time Minho took Taemin deep into the park.

            “Where are we going, hyung?”

            Minho said nothing, dragging Taemin into the forest just behind the picnic area. Taemin obediently followed, though he objected silently.

            They finally stopped walking and Taemin panted. Minho always walked too fast for him. “Now what?”

            “Close your eyes.” Minho muttered.

            Taemin did as he was told and closed his eyes, turning away from whatever Minho was doing.    

            After a while, Minho told Taemin he could turn around and open his eyes. Taemin literally gasped, seeing what Minho had done. In a few minutes, Minho had cleared leaves and branches off of the floor, adorned the dirty dirt with a woolen rubicund blanket and arranged a dozen or two small lit candles into the shape of a heart to circumscribe the two lovers.

            “Taemin-ah,” he began. “I’m sorry I haven’t been the best boyfriend and I’m sorry that you’re worrying over me. I’m your hyung; I’m supposed to protect you. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to do that. But starting from today, Taemin, I will. I promise I’ll do anything for you and I won’t hurt you again.”

            Taemin blinked back a few tears, his throat aching from trying not to cry. “Hyung...”

            Minho grabbed him by the shoulders, staring into Taemin’s eyes. “God, Taemin. I can’t even use words to say what you mean to me and I’m just so sorry I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry for even making you shed one damn tear. So please, Taemin, don’t cry now. Don’t ever cry again.”

            Taemin pulled Minho into a hug, tears threatening to fall from his eyes even more. “Hyung, I...”

            “I love you, Lee Taemin.”

            That was it. Taemin burst out crying, gripping tightly onto Minho, letting his emotions pour out of him and onto Minho’s forest cardigan. “I love you, too, hyung.”

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            Key was just so tired of everything at this point. So tired, so lost, so confused. He knew it was the right thing to do. He’d always known. But it felt so terrible that everything hurt. He didn't leave his room, not even bothering to put his favourite scent on, the scent that marked Kim Kibum. He just sat in a chair, day in and day out, doing nothing. He didn’t thumb the track on his computer, he didn’t flip channels on the television. He just sat there, existing and thinking that not a damn person in the world cared about him.

            He was horribly incorrect. Once Jonghyun had gotten over the high of having his father back, once he had presented the most exquisite prize to his mother, Jonghyun’s thoughts immediately flashed back to Key. Jonghyun tried to get in contact with Key by visiting the places Key often met him. He visited Minho’s house to ask Minho to call Key, but Key never answered the phone. Jonghyun was sick with worry, but was flooded with relief when Key came to school that Monday, his hair done, his nails painted and smelling like Kim Kibum.

            Jonghyun promptly ran up to him, his arms extended, and wrapped the younger boy in his arms, squeezing tightly. “What’s wrong with you? Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

            Key looked at him, confused. “You don’t hate me?”

            “Didn’t I tell you that I still love you? Do you think I’m a liar, Key?”

            “No,” he said, smiling shyly. “What about Minho?” He whispered.

            “I don’t hate you,” Minho said, from far. “It’s not your fault.”

            Jonghyun nodded in agreement. “Just because your father did that, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, right? We still love you.”

            “You’d better love me,” Key said.

            “Ya! What did you say?” Minho shot back, laughing.

            Key laughed. “Of course you love me! Who doesn’t?”

            “Me!” Taemin piped up. He earned a shocked look from Key, who looked like he was about to cry.

            “Taeminnie? I thought...”

            “Ah! I’m sorry, hyung! I was just joking!” He held his hands up defensively.

            “So was I!” Key grinned.

            The boys talked for a while before the school bell rang. They split up into groups to walk to their classes, smiling at their collective stupidness.

            Minho decided it was a good day.