He wished for many things, a considerable amount; a concernable amount considering his young age. He was sixteen years old, although his face fooled many people into believing he was eleven, but not because he was unattractive (or so he liked to think).With the scorching cold ice whipping into his scrunched face, he wished only to feel protected and warm inside of Jongin’s sweet and loving arms. It was a certain feeling he proudly obtained, for in the few times he had been surrounded by his aurora, locked tightly, the adrenaline sent sunshine through his body and the remnants remained. Whilst imagining this certain sensation, as if he had a sixth sense, already he was half way to his small, yet welcoming home. He knew perfectly well where Jongin’s house was, and we give thanks to google maps. Too many times he wished, to add to his growing lists of wants which he classified as needs, to call his house his home. 

It wasn’t as if Jongin wasn’t expecting him, Taemin would have never had the courage to march forth on his own accord. This we must understand, in order to grasp the emotionally unstable boy, who is currently trying to convince himself he isn’t homoual. It is also important, to ruminate over just how frightened and worried this young boy was, and compare this to his admirable determination to be reminded of Jongin’s complexion. The undyingly curious reader will begin to debate and ponder on just what this great reason was that had driven our fragile protagonist to his unrequited love’s house.  He had stolen one of Jongin’s most prized shirts. Overly overwhelming pheromones can unknowingly cause the acts we fantasize of, or so he liked to tell himself.

As driven to see Jongin again as he was, he was equally as reluctant to return this diamond encrusted artifact he wore whenever he could and/or kept close to him. A few days before his descent to see this angel blessed god, he washed the tan and red plaid silky gem for after sleeping in it every night, many wrinkles and creases formed much to his embarrassment. He unknowingly already reached Jongin’s worn down mat that had once read ‘welcome’ which now read ‘wome’. Now that he freed his mouth from his tight scarf, gasped for air, frantically fixed his blonde, short hair, and straightened his jeans, he was ready to endure the being that existed within his dreams.

If Jongin hadn’t already reassured him it was perfectly fine to let himself in, beaming with a phosphoresce grin to confirm it was alright, Taemin would have stood outside his door knocking until dawn. The first step inside seemed louder than it really was, meanwhile instant warmth and comfort filled his senses, and the aura of Jongin sealed his ecstasy. A faint whistle and talking muffled from the room parallel to him, and he figured that was where the personification of perfection was waiting for him. Taemin inhaled deeply and exhaled with a stream of butterflies in his lower and upper stomach, and caused his a tingeing headache. I’m in his HIS HOUSE.

 It was, after all, a very nice house. He had seen it once before, when they, along with a few others, were chosen to be in a chemistry group together. Jongin had decided to work on the nomenclature project at his house, for it was, as he so proudly reminded them, “the most ideal place for any social or concentrated atmosphere”. This was, actually, exceptionally true. The motility carried a much higher and intimidating perspective than his memory attempted. Although it was very modern, it was also quite small. The smallest details and features of his crush’s residence were much more obtrusive, now that he was anticipating and dreading the sight of his only reason for being allowed the honor to stand there. The monotonous and creamy curtains draped over each window, and whispered softly with the winter’s breeze. Jongin’s wood flooring was incredibly shiny, and it glistened the room. Taemin was uncommonly thankful Jongin’s parents weren’t there; of course.

Our protagonist gulped and stepped around the left corner into the direction of the sound.  In the center of the next room, half sitting, half laying on a dark leather sofa laid the god of . The seventeen year old ultimate pulchritude that breathed the same air as he, for the time being.  Taemin almost melted into his shoes, while his head felt ten shades redder. The room was extremely dimmed, almost black; he did not even notice Jongin’s closed eyes and barely parted lips that so perfectly formed and reflected another. Jongin’s light blue v-neck shirt, voluminous, scrunched at the bottom, revealed some of his stomach. The light fabric overlapped itself and exposed Jongin’s biceps. The muffled sounds coming from the largely pixelated television were the glue to the comfortable yet unnerving mood.

For a few minutes, at least, Taemin stood in the doorway thinking of nothing else, and doing nothing else then gawking into the face of Kim Jongin. Taemin’s eyes traced along the glowing softness of Jongin’s cheeks that illuminated from the television light, and down to his flawlessly molded lips. Farther south of Jongin’s body and down to his protruding collar bones, his chest, his waist, his muscles… As Taemin dumbfoundedly stood, forgetting how anxious he was, without warning and jolting Taemin back to reality, Jongin stirred and slowly opened his eyes.

As soon as Jongin’s eyes were opened enough to see a figure in his house, he quickly sat up, his wide and beautifully, deep brown eyes gazed directly at Taemin’s face. Jongin laughed to himself when he realized it was his expected visitor. He put his hand to his face and rubbed it up and down to wake himself up, while finishing up this gorgeously y movement with a glide through his scruffy hair. Taemin felt his feet had been nailed to the floor. Jongin wiped the sleep from his eye and said through a grin, “Taemin you seriously just scared the out of me”. His short sentence ended with a quiet laugh that waited for Taemin’s return, which was never received. “Oh…I’m sorry… I thought you said I could just let myself in…”

Maybe it was because they were unambiguously alone with each other for the first time, or maybe because they were in Jongin’s house. Whatever the reason, Taemin felt more drawn to Jongin more than he had ever felt. Oh my god I’m so gay. “Yeah, yeah, right”, Jongin answered nodding his head, “I forgot. So do you have the shirt?” He smiled, showing all of his snow white teeth. “Oh, yeah it’s here”. Taemin held the neatly folded and washed shirt with an outstretched hand, not wanting to get too close. Jongin looked at the shirt and then at Taemin, his lips tracing the insides of his mouth, then he smiled again with a confused expression. “Don’t you wanna watch the game or something?” Taemin was, as you can imagine, completely freaking out on the inside. He laughed as if his awkward offer was a joke, “Sure, whose winning? Gators?” His voice was shaking; he walked over to the couch and sat on the complete opposite side, which was a little obvious. Jongin turned his head to look him straight on, “The Gators aren’t playing...” he half smiled. ing duh just shut up Taemin just shut UP. “Oh that’s my bad…” He sat with his legs glued together with his arms and hands tucked into his thighs which made him look reserved and unapproachable. However, our sweet little scared less protagonist wants nothing more than to be in his own room, alone, reading his favorite book, finishing homework, thinking about Jongin, or sleeping in Jongin’s shirt; anything but actually being in the same room as Jongin.

The screen had horrible quality, Taemin was surprised this was a malfunction, as the rest of his house was flawless. Jongin, completely comfortable with his head towards the game, intimately following the players suddenly turned around and asked politely, “Oh sorry, do you want a drink or something?” He began to rise himself, and as he stood up Taemin jolted his arms out to try and reassure him he wasn’t thirsty, when in reality he didn’t think he could take drinking out of his glass, or his juice. Jongin looked at him as if he just spoke an alien language, and gracefully shook his head and glided from the room towards the pristine kitchen. “Don’t try that ‘it’s too much trouble’ crap, you’re my bro”. All Taemin could do was watch Jongin’s back muscles twitch with every step he took, and his chestnut hair slowly falling into place after having been laying down. Was I totally just friend zoned? What does bro even mean? Is that a good thing?  How many bros does he have? Am I on that same lev- Taemin’s thoughts were cut off from a frozen beer landing in his hands, his quick reflexes surprising himself. Jongin, holding a beer in one hand himself smiled at Taemin and chuckled out, “Nice one”.  Maybe it was because this was one of the only one-on-one interactions they had shared together, or maybe because Taemin was convinced he had fallen for Jongin; either way, Taemin overanalyzed every move Jongin made. He knew everything he thought of was just in his head, but still, his heart couldn’t help but beat out of his chest. He watched Jongin from the corner of his eye, and waited until he opened his can so he wouldn’t be the first one. Slowly, Taemin flipped the can open, and took the first sip, after Jongin had his of course.

“Oh..go…go…GO GO!!” Jongin sat on the edge of the couch, leaned completely forward, thoroughly captivated by the promising touch down of their team. Within seconds, they had successfully jumped ahead of the other team. Taemin stared fixated on Jongin’s reactions. Jongin raised his hands in his air and closed his hands into fists, lowered them and made a very victorious gesture, before turning to Taemin with a behemothic smile and laugh.

Taemin, truthfully, did not care for football much at all, he found it quite boring to watch actually. Sitting next to this enthusiastic beauty however, erased his memory of ever disliking the sport, and he found himself excited their team was ahead. In response to Jongin, (mostly because he was frustrated for being awkward and quiet) he opened his mouth and stumbled, yet still accomplishing his “Whoo!” He was relieved to see Jongin had not thought twice about his out-of-comfort-zone remark, and was continuously glad to see he still had that angelic and childish smile plastered from each ear. He felt oddly welcomed, which was greatly surprising for he was in the only place Taemin could think of where he would feel the exact opposite.

At least an hour had passed; Taemin knew this because the game had ended, with at least an hour left when he walked in earlier that evening. In this approximate hour, Taemin’s anxiety had not decreased in the least, yet somehow he was able to sit through sixty minutes of Jongin. He just then noticed Jongin had been sitting closer to him than before, which shot butterflies through his lower stomach filling every crack in Taemin’s body. Jongin leaned back into the couch with his arms slightly raised, with an elated expression which was quite contagious. “Finally won at least one game, that’s our last for the year”, he laughed a little and continued, “right?” Taemin, desperate to find a reply to his answer, absent mindedly glanced down at his beer can; it was completely empty. He had never drunken that quantity before, and looking around the room after being fixed on the television and Jongin’s complexion for so long meddled with his stable vision. He felt a build up in his stomach, bubbles and acid were forming what felt like a tsunami inside of him. He slowly opened his mouth and had planned to make a witty comeback, but instead let out the wimpiest yet daintiest hiccup. He was absolutely traumatized with embarrassment. Quickly, as a reflex, he turned to Jongin to see his reaction and hoped he would ignore what had just happened, or he hoped Jongin didn’t hear him. Jongin turned his head at a ninety degree angle to gape at Taemin, his elated expression fell. Taemin’s heart sank, and he could almost feel his position as a human being lowered with every second Jongin stared at him. Suddenly Jongin whipped his head back, immersing into the couch, with his eyes tightly closed and his perfectly straight teeth flashing in a gorgeous, yet silent laugh. He rolled his head over to face Taemin, his head still tilted back, still holding his smile. He managed to let out a few words in each breath, “Did you just hiccup? How fast did you drink that?” Taemin looked down at his empty can again, attempted to reply but let out another hiccup just as sweet and quiet. At this point, Taemin’s anxiety and embarrassment was about to seep out of his body; he felt as if he were a kindergartener conversing with a high-schooler. “That’s pretty cute.” Jongin’s smile was no longer focused at the hiccup itself, but at Taemin. In this moment as their stares intently fixed on each other, the urge to confess everything to Jongin was indeterminably immense. I’m cute? Me or the hiccup? What is he saying? Both? Taemin opened his mouth slightly and began to spill out a waterfall of passion and admiration he has been bottling up for months. His lips were trembling and his throat refused to cooperate, leaving Taemin struggling to find his voice and the perfect words. “I think... I should probably head back.”

Jongin didn’t change his position; he just looked at Taemin the same way he had a few minutes before, seemingly surprised by what Taemin had just announced. “Already? You okay?” “Yeah, well I mean, the game ended so… Plus it’s a school night.” “Aaah”, Jongin swung his head back and finished the last gulp of beer which was now warm, “so you’re one of those kids”. He smiled, clearly joking, which would be obvious to anyone besides Taemin. He stood up and fixed his wrinkled shirt then offered to take Taemin’s empty can while Taemin shadowed his movements and rose with him. The atmosphere definitely had an insouciant tone, compared to the first few moments they had been together. The curtains still whispering the winter’s song, and the house was still dim with only the moonlight to illuminate Jongin’s flawless profile.

“It’s pretty dark out now, want a ride home?” Jongin turned his head to face him as they walked down the hallway. “Oh no it’s fine, it’s not that far”. Jongin kept his focus on Taemin and smirked slightly, “You don’t have to be so polite with me all the time, it’s really no problem”. HE NOTICED.  Taemin laughed, an effete attempt at reassuring Jongin that he was definitely not simply uncomfortable and polite. As desperately as he wanted to remain in this godly scented house, in Jongin’s presence, on Jongin’s cold leather sofa, he also wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there before he completely emotionally exploded.

“Really, don’t worry about it. Thanks for the drink…and the game.” Taemin smiled crookedly, yet it was not faked and Jongin could sense that. Jongin shrugged slightly and leaned his arms against the archway beginning to smile back, “You just don’t quit, do you?” Somehow, their eyes caught eachother and emphatically locked on, both of their smiles falling into a, for Taemin, sweat drenching gaze. Taemin quickly broke the beaming stare and began to open the door behind him, regretting leaving this heaven and taking his first steps back into hell. “I guess not”. The door closed.