A/N: Hi everyone! It's been a while again!!! But  I'm back with tons of inspiration!!!

Finally, I'm slowly beginning to see how this story is going to end.

But no worries, I will still need a few chapters before I can finish this story. 

So enjoy the chapter!~ 

- Taemin POV -

My hyungs are all stupid fools. Well, maybe Minho isn’t. If they would simply open their minds and hearts, they would realize this is one stupid misunderstanding that is getting horribly out of hand. If they would trust each other and let the other free instead of trapping each other, they  would realize there is no one to blame but one person. I close my eyes and images of the red-haired devil appears on my eyelids. She really is a demon, appearing in every of my – currently frequent – nightmares. I am not really scared of anything, except bugs and crazy fans. And this one is a hell of a sasaeng fan. That night when I first met her, was the most terrifying moment in my life. I had never been so scared before in my life.

When I hear the entrance door open again and familiar footsteps enter the dorm, I decide it’s time for some maknae action. I let out a deep sigh and sit on the edge of my bed, bare feet touching the cold ground. I tremble a little when the cold sends chills up my spine, so I wrap the blanket tightly around my body as I get up on my feet and make my way to the bedroom door. A light sheen of sweat is covering my forehead and my skin feels as if it’s on fire, but my hyungs’ happiness is more important than my own health.

- Key POV -

After my little walk through the city, I return back to the dorm, happy to find out that Jonghyun has already left for his schedule. After our fight a few hours ago, I am not in the mood for another talk/argument/fight with that cheater/traitor/liar. I stare at the white wall in front of me. I am currently in the kitchen, wanting to bake something to let out all my frustration and anger on the sticky dough. But I haven’t even gathered all the ingredients, let alone made the dough. I am simply standing  at the counter, motionless as some kind of ice sculpture, my hands seeking support onto the surface as if it’s the only thing that’s keeping me up on my feet. The sound of footsteps, coming from the living room and heading towards my location, bring me out of my musings. I turn my head around, brows knitting together in a frown as I don’t immediately recognize the dragging footsteps. My heart starts to race in my chest and fear settles in every cell of my body when I suddenly realize that no one is home to make that noise. Despite the fear, I manage to move my feet – one by one – to the kitchen’s door. To feel more safe, I grab the rolling pin from the counter, holding the handle tightly. As I sneak closer to the door, I lean my back against the wall next to the door frame, hiding from the intruder’s view.

‘Burglars, sasaeng fans,… We really have to ask  for a new dorm. This one’s no longer safe for anyone of us.’ A tiny voice in my head notes what was already obvious to me, especially after that certain event a couple of weeks ago.

“And what will you tell our manager?” I mutter to myself and the voice in my head. “‘Hi, hyung! Can we move, ‘cause a sasaeng fan is threatening to reveal my relationship with Jonghyun. Oh yeah, that’s right, you didn’t know yet… we’re gay.’”

During my little conversation with myself, the footsteps at the other side of the open kitchen door have neared – not that – silently. ‘If that’s a burglar, he really at his job,’ I think to myself. When I hear that the other figure has arrived at the door, I brace myself, clutching the rolling pin so tightly that my knuckles are turning white. The shadow of the intruder casts a dark glow over the counter at the exact  place where I was standing a few minutes ago. I take a deep breath, readying myself for the self-defense attack… until the intruder steps into the kitchen…

At the sight of the ghost, a very unmanly, high-pitched scream leaves my lips. The ghost, wrapped in a thick blanket, seems to be equally surprised, screaming from the top of his lungs. He turns around, revealing the only body part that is not covered by the white bed sheets, his face.

“Taemin-ah?” I ask confused when I recognize the maknae’s bare face.

“Key-hyung, why do you like you’ve seen a ghost? And… why on earth are you holding that rolling pin, ready to attack?”

A fine, trembling finger appears from underneath the blanket and points to the utensil, which I am still holding so tightly with both my hands. I scratch my head in embarrassment.

“I thought you were a burglar! I was supposed to be home alone after… Why are you even here?”

I don’t realize I’m yelling until I see the younger flinch at my voice.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” the maknae murmurs. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

A small cough interrupts Taemin’s explanation. And then reality hits me. The pale face, the blanket, the coughs… my little baby is sick! I immediately run to the counter to put the rolling pin down and turn back to the younger in the blanket cocoon.

“Are you sick, Taemin-ah?” I ask, taking his hands into one of mine and putting my other hand against his forehead.

Drops of sweat are covering his forehead and his neck, an enormous difference with his cold, trembling hands. He undoubtedly has a fever… a very bad fever.

“You have a terrible fever, Tae. Why are you not in your bed, resting?”

My voice is filled with worry and concern, really making me sound like a mother. The younger doesn’t answer and only coughs before he motions to go to the living room. I silently follow the shuffling blanket  cocoon to the couch and sit next to the maknae, handing him a closed bottle of water that is standing on the coffee table.

“We need to talk, hyung,” Taemin says, his voice serious as hell.