“Stop moving so much, Kibum.”

“But I’m getting a cramp in my neck! It’s hurts!”

“Just one more minute..”

“You said that ages ago!”

“Shush.”

Minho made one more over the paper and then it was complete. “I’m done now,” he told his blonde model.

Kibum slid off his chair, dusting off invisible speck of dirt on his new shirt. It was a grey fitted shirt, perfect for his petite frame. He wore black skinny jeans and a necklace with a small gold star pendant on the end. So simple...but it screamed ‘Kibum’ in every way.

“Do you think this shirt makes me look fat?” Kibum asked Minho. Minho shrugged. Kibum scoffed loudly. 

“What was that for?!” the older boy cried, his lips forming a pout.

“I think it looks quite good on you, Kibum,” Minho replied, smirking slightly. Kibum sighed in satisfaction.

Kibum watched the taller boy clean the mess on the table beside the easel. Glancing around the room, he admired the many sketches Minho had hung on the walls of the small studio. 

“Could you drive me back to my house? I don’t have a ride because my stupid manager ditched me.” Kibum glanced at Minho, with pleading eyes.

Minho nodded, but then took it back. “It is late...why don’t you just stay for the night?” he suggested. Kibum was silent for a moment, taking in Minho’s words.

“I...guess...” Kibum replied.

Minho smiled and then set his stick of the dark charcoal on the easel, “It makes me feel better when I have company...I really do hate it when it’s quiet here.”

Minho and Kibum were good friends who attended an arts school in Seoul. Minho had selected his path to become a world famous artist (or just in Seoul, it didn’t matter–as long as he could support himself). Kibum decided to become a model. Minho had always thought the diva was perfect for it. His feline eyes, smooth milky skin, rosy heart-shaped lips, perfect hips that were ever-so skilled in dancing, his toned legs that would make any girl jealous–he was probably the most beautiful person that had ever stepped foot on the campus of the college.

Minho met the older boy in his first year of high school. He saw Kibum in one of the practice rooms after school trying to perfect a series of complex dance moves. He had no idea the boy had wanted to be a model instead of a dancer, since Kibum was amazingly talented. “I want to know I’m confident about myself,” Kibum had told Minho, when the taller boy asked.

Minho took a figure drawing class, and the teachers had allowed the students to have their own models, and Minho had asked Kibum to help him with his projects when the older boy wasn’t busy. He didn’t mind all the work; he simply enjoyed the diva’s company, and Kibum was very obeying, so it was easy to finish projects in time.

Since Minho had been getting a flood of new assignments, Kibum had been at Minho’s house more often, and once had joked about moving into the artist’s condo. “You could, if you want,” Minho replied, when Kibum had said that. Kibum just laughed and said that he was just joking. Minho remained silent for the rest of the time.

Minho was honestly confused about his feelings for Kibum. Did he see the older boy as a friend? Was he like a brother? Or did he like him? Minho didn’t know.

Kibum had told Minho he was straight. “Straight as a ruler,” he had even added. Minho wanted to add, “You mean those flexible rulers?”

“Are you hungry?” Minho asked Kibum, as they walked out of the studio into the main room. Kibum shook his head. “Where’s Ren?” Kibum asked. “I haven’t seen him this morning. Maybe he’s at the balcony again,” Minho replied, sitting down at one of the chairs at the kitchen island.

Kibum walked over to the open door to the balcony and bent over, picking a little cat up, nuzzling it near his face. Kibum cradled the kitten into his arms and cooed softly. Minho smiled at the sight. Kibum had found the cat abandoned at the side of the street one night, and had nowhere to bring the cat, since his landlord didn’t allow animals at his own apartment. Instead, Minho volunteered to take the cat in. Ever since the cat had stepped into the house, it practically lived on the balcony. He made it stay inside at night, and in the mornings, it’d wake him up by pouncing on his face and meowing. Minho found it annoying at first, but then got used to it quickly.

During the rest of the afternoon, Kibum sat at the balcony with Ren, reading a magazine. Minho just watched him from the island, sipping his ice coffee. He knew well not to bother the older boy when he was with Ren, since he was quite attached to the feline. It was almost like Kibum was a cat himself. 

Later that evening, Minho ordered pizza and took out some cans of Kibum’s favorite ice tea. They sat in the living room, eating and watching TV until Kibum finally shut it off, the screen turning black. Minho stood up, shouting, “Damn it! That was the last shot and they could’ve won! Oh my god..” He kept mumbling as he lay on the white couch. Kibum sat on the floor, drinking his ice tea and playing with Ren.

An hour later, Kibum glanced at the clock. It was already eleven pm. Kibum sighed, scooting over to where Minho lay asleep. He poked Minho’s cheek, but surprisingly, he didn’t stir. “You heavy sleeper,” Kibum whispered. He leaned his cheek on the taller boy’s chest, concentrating on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the sound of his breathing. Kibum closed his eyes for a moment, feeling somewhat comforted with the other boy’s presence.

He lifted his head, sighing. “Minho-ah. Wake up,” he said in the sleeping boy’s face. Minho grunted, and opened an eye. “Why.”

“You need to sleep on a proper bed,” Kibum told him. Minho sat up, rubbing his eyes, and stood up. He stretched slightly, yawning once more.

They walked quietly to the hallway, and then Kibum asked, “Do you have pajamas or something?”

“Uh, I’ll get you something,” Minho replied. “You can wait in the guest room.” Kibum nodded and disappeared down the hall to the room. Minho went to his bedroom and opened the dresser. He tugged out a pair of black sweatpants, and a loose white t-shirt. He stepped out of the room and quickly went to the guest room. He knocked on the closed door, and waited for a response. After a moment, he frowned and then opened the door. He saw the model lying on the bed, curled up without the blanket. Minho sighed, smiling to himself.

As quietly as he could, he walking to the sleeping boy. He sat beside his small body and the older boy’s blonde hair. “Kibum..” he said softly. “You need to get changed.”

Minho waited for a few minutes, and decided Kibum wasn’t going to wake up. Minho sat him up, and Kibum slumped forward into Minho’s chest. “Aish, c’mon, Kibum.” Kibum’s eyes opened sightly. He let out a little yawn and then he blinked sleepily. “Get changed,” Minho told him once again.

Kibum shook his head. “Do it for me,” Kibum mumbled, half asleep.

Minho sighed, making Kibum sit up again. His slim fingers moved over Kibum’s thigh to the hem of his shirt. He felt his breathing and heartbeat suddenly sped up. He forced his fingers not to tremble, and he lifted the shirt slightly. He tugged it at a faster pace, the skin of Kibum’s smooth, pale stomach already showing. Minho was tempted to run his hand over it, but continued instead. He raised the shirt over Kibum’s head, and Kibum’s lifted his arms to let Minho take the entire shirt off. Minho examined the model’s tiny frame. His skin was almost white as snow, and his stomach was quite cute, in Minho’s opinion (especially his bellybutton). His s were a soft pink and slightly perked..they were adorable. 

Minho shook his head. What was he doing? Checking his own best friend out? C’mon, Choi, focus. He just looked so...fragile like this, and Minho felt the need to protect him. Minho contemplated if he should make Kibum take his pants off also, but that’d seem a little weird, even after he just was staring at his chest a moment ago. Minho picked up the new shirt and slid it over Kibum. It was too big and one side hung off Kibum’s shoulder. Minho scratched his head. He moved to sit on the floor, kneeling. He reached to Kibum’s waist, leaning over his legs slightly. He hooked his index fingers on the waist of the black skinny jeans. Kibum stood up, so it would be easier for Minho.

Minho was able to take the skinny jeans off without turning red, and then he helped Kibum put on the sweats. Kibum mumbled a thank you, and then climbed into the bed once more. Minho nodded in acknowledgement, and he slowly left the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“Oh my god. Did that just happen.”

Minho breathed out slowly and walked back to his room, where he fell asleep immediately. A few hours past twelve, Minho woke up to the sound of Kibum’s sniffing and his soft footsteps. “Kibum?” he called out, to the darkness.

He heard Kibum’s tiny body climb onto his bed as the mattress springs creaked, and then the rustling came closer until Kibum was right in front of Minho. “I-I had a bad d-dream..” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Minho let out a soft “shh”, and brought Kibum closer to his chest. He noticed Kibum had taken his pants off and wasn’t wearing anything underneath the shirt. His eyes widened. Oh god. 

Kibum whimpered. “What was the dream about, Bummie?” Minho asked, the boy’s blonde hair.

“I..was in the school hallway, and I was looking f-for you..as I went down the hall to find you, they kept winding, getting longer, and never ending..like a maze..” Kibum explained, his voice cracking once.

“Ah..I see.” Minho lifted Kibum’s head and rested it on his shoulder. His hand moved down and he rubbed the small of Kibum’s back reassuringly. “I’m here with you now, neh?” he whispered in his ear.

Kibum nodded, sniffing slightly. “C-can I stay here for the night..? In your room..?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Of course,” Minho replied.

Kibum curled up beside Minho and they both lay in silence for a moment.  “Goodnight, Kibum,” Minho whispered. He waited for a few minutes, and then he heard a soft response. “Goodnight, Minho.”

--

awkward, boring first chap. oh whale. /bricked/ hope you like it. it'll probably get interesting later on. c: this actually looked longer when I wrote it on Pages (it was 9 pages..k.) but...fail. OTL"
posted: august 15, 2012