"A-aniyo...I'm manly, not cute. Don't say things like that," I murmured half-heartedly. Rather than sounding insistent, my voice seemed uncertain and unsure. The way Minho gazed at me caused my internal organs to mold into jelly, which did no good for my beating heart. Minho's grin only seemed to broaden at my reply to his previous remark. In one very sudden movement, he drew the back of his index finger across my cheek, caressing my milky white flesh.

I felt my breathing hitch at his gentle touch. I let my eyelids flutter shut as I nourished the sensations the feel of his touch left across, as well as beneath, my skin. The moment he retracted his finger, my eyelids shot open. I gave him a quizzical look. Minho merely chuckled at my dumbfounded facade. Then, he cleared his throat.

"Mianhae. Your cheeks look really soft, so I wanted to feel it," he admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed. I felt myself blush profusely at his comment. A warm, tingling sensation was left beneath the area of flesh Minho had brushed his finger across. Jolts of pleasure surged throughout my body. Suddenly, I felt rather light-headed and tipsy as if I had one too many swigs of alcohol. He then leaned his face towards my own.

"You really are cute, Taemin," he rasped, his warm breath brushing across my face in sweet, breezy waves. Either he naturally exuded such wonderful scents or he had previously chewed a great brand of gum. I let out a light swoon, which I silently prayed came off more as an exhausted sigh. Then he recoiled, setting us apart at a comfortable distance of two feet.

"G-gwenchana. It's perfectly fine. I get that all the time," I lied. Truthfully, no other person (with the exception of Key and my umma) had ever gushed over how soft my cheeks appeared. Minho was bearing an amused smile.

"Ah, well, can you help me with something?" he asked me, the plea in his voice evident. I suddenly felt uneasy. What could he possibly need from someone he had just met?

"Uh...sure..." I answered him hesitantly. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I need help finding my classes. I haven't exactly gotten the whole North, South, East, West building thing down to a rhythm yet. My old school was a lot different than Chungdam," he admitted, suddenly becoming bashful. Did I make him nervous? Aw, how adorable.

"Not to worry, Mr. Choi," I reassured him, a much-too-broad grin plastered onto my taut lips. Mother of God, did I actually just call him "Mister Choi"? Shoot me, just shoot me. "Once you memorize the entire set-ups of the different buildings, you can functionally move about the school with ease," I quickly added, trying to diverge away from the entire Mister Choi ordeal.

Minho nodded, either having completely forgotten the whole "me-addressing-him-as-mister" fiasco or having been oblivious to it altogether. Hopefully, for the sake of any strand of dignity that I had not completely vaporized at this point in time, it was the latter. I cleared my throat before continuing.

"First of all, every building has three floors, each floor typically having eight classrooms, araso?" I stated, to which Minho nodded. "All the English and math classes are located in the North building. The South building, nearest to the entrance of the school, is where the main office is located. There, you can also find the infirmary, study hall, and etcetera. All the elective classes are in the East building. The West building houses all the science and history classes..."

Minho's perfectly plump lips were now pursed in a firm line, his brows furrowed in a tight knot. He nodded every so often, signaling his attentiveness towards every word that left my lips. He seemed to soak up all of this new information like how a sponge absorbs and retains water.

"...and the number following the letter determines which floor your class is at. The number after that is the classroom number, obviously. Also, there are two gyms, the West gym and the East gym. They're located on either side of the North building. Whether your gym class is at the West or East gym depends on what teacher you have. I'm sure you know where the quad and the cafeteria is. Oh, and we have a tennis court and-"

"Does this school have a soccer field and a basketball court?" Minho wistfully inquired, cutting off my sentence. The pools of deep ebony in his orbs glistened with hope and expectancy.

"Uh...of course," I responded. The way the perfectly sculpted features of his flawless face lit up in sheer delight did not go unnoticed by me. "Waeyo?" I inquired of the taller male. Minho shrugged, the wide grin evident on his perfect lips.

"I love soccer. I used to play for my school's varsity team. Coach Lim always put me in goal, but I always loved to play offense. Sure, you feel pretty freaking fantastic when you save a goal, but the feeling you get after scoring for your team is indescribable. I'm a pretty good sport, but the looks on the other team's face? Priceless. When I'm not playing soccer, I'm usually shooting hoops with my buddy, Jjong. Most people would think that his height is a major disadvantage, but don't let that fool you. He's wicked fast..."

The way his eyes shimmered with longing and desire and the way that dreamy glint would appear every so often did not diminish at the slightest. I pouted, feeling a sudden tinge of jealousy quake throughout my mind. I brooded over my thoughts, periodically repeating to myself of how little hope there was of me ever being the one person to cause that look of yearning in his eyes, to be the principal origin of his bliss.

Although it's quite irrelevant at this point, the name Jjong is an electrifying cobalt blue. The subtle scent of muffins wafted into my nose and I could trace the faintest taste of blue raspberry candy on my tongue.

"Gwenchana, Taemin?" Minho asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. I snapped out of my brief moroseness and reassured Minho with a sheepish grin.

"I'm fine," I lied, slapping on a cheesy smile. "So...uh..." I mumbled inarticulately. The awkwardness hung in the air as thick as a rain cloud. "Do you still need help with anything?" I asked, feeling my eyes glance around meaninglessly towards lockers, the fluorescent lights, anywhere but Minho. Minho dug around in his backpack until he fished out a crumply and worn half-sheet of yellow paper. He held it out to me.

"My schedule," he told me, beckoning me to take it. Gingerly, I tugged the piece of paper out of his grasp and quickly glanced over it.

Chungdam HS                            Name: Choi Minho

                                            ID: 1064646     

                                              Grade: 12

Per.           Course           Teacher        Rm. No.

1              AP Kinesiology   T. Cha            W107

2              Elective         A. Lee            E105

3              AP Literature    K. Hwang          N212

Break

4              Statistics       T. Kim            N324

5              Drama 3-4        G. Shin           E104

6              AP Economy       J. Jang           W216

Lunch

7              Phys. Ed.        M. Han            E Gym

8              Study Hall       C. Kwon           S320

Dismissal

I was struck with undulating waves of disbelief as my eyes scanned over Minho's schedule. I felt my milky white flesh of my face tighten against my skull. With trembling hands, I handed Minho his schedule and fished around for my own, pulling it out of my backpack a moment later.

Chungdam HS                           Name: Lee Taemin

                                            ID: 823646   

                                             Grade: 11

 

Per.           Course           Teacher        Rm. No.

1              Hnr. Pre Calc.   K. Hoang          N215

2              Hnr. Eng. 11     H. Lim            N108

3              Adv. Foods       J. Cho            E214

Break

4              AP History       D. Jung           W321

5              Drama 3-4        G. Shin           E104

6              AP Chemistry     A. Park           W103

Lunch

7              Phys. Ed.        M. Han            E Gym

8              Study Hall       C. Kwon           S320

Dismissal

The flesh of my face paled until I felt that it had become nearly transparent. My throat had gone dry in mere seconds. I couldn't believe my sheer luck, or perhaps it was pure fate? Minho and I shared the final two periods with one another as well as drama class. It was written as clear as day, printed in black and white. Well, in reality the text was printed in a spectrum of numerous colors.

Minho peered over my shoulder to glance over my schedule as well. He then held out his own schedule, observing the yellow paper intently. After a few moments of glancing back and forth between his schedule and my own, he broke out into a wide, toothy grin.

"It looks like we have classes together!" he exclaimed. He sounded genuinely ecstatic. I nodded mutely in response, too overcome with shock. Only mere hours ago I was feeling morbidly concerned over Choi Minho's name alone. Now I have to spend three classes with the source of my problems (although his existence was more like a blessed gift bestowed upon my insignificant life) for the remaining of the school term?

At that moment, the obnoxious school bell chimed overhead, signaling the conclusion of the forty minute lunch break. Streaks of rich brown slashed across my field of vision, momentarily startling me. The highlighter green haze gradually grew thicker and became more vibrant as more and more students began to pour into the hallways in tight clusters. I felt Minho's elbow lightly nudge the side of my ribs.

"Let's go, Taemin," Minho called out as he started down the hall. I quickly trotted to his side. I felt my cheeks tinge a rosy pink as our shoulders accidentally brushed against each other. Much to my relief, Minho didn't seem to notice the subtle contact.

I was painfully aware of how the majority of students we passed by would turn their heads toward Minho and me. They spectated us as if we were two hunks of prize-winning beef. Or rather, they gazed intently at Minho. The rubbernecks paid no attention to me, which I was more than content with.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Krystal glaring defiantly at me. Her arms were crossed over her flat chest and an ugly scowl was etched across her taut lips. Sulli stood just to the right of the seething Krystal. Once my own eyes met Sulli's creepy, bug-eyed gaze, she blushed and quickly turned away. 

"Hyung, people are staring at you," I said pointedly.

"Are they, now?" Minho replied nonchalantly. I huffed and decided to shrug it off. If Minho was approaching the entire "people-staring-at-him-in-a-creepy-way" situation in a rather indifferent manner, then I might as well do that, too.

Within minutes, we finally approached the East gymnasium (with me leading the way, of course). Minho followed me into the boy's locker room where we both discovered our fellow male schoolmates already beginning to peel off garments of their clothing.

There were a select few who were already fully dressed into their unflattering gym attire. The gym uniform, which emitted questionable odors, was composed of a moss green T-shirt (which had the tendency to be two sizes too large for most students) and a pair of dingy gray gym shorts/track pants (which were either so large that they resembled clown pants or so tight that they clung to the legs and reached mid-thigh). The school's selection of gym clothes were meant to resemble Chungdam's vomit-inducing school colors of green and silver (A/N: Team Slytherin! I'm Tom Felton biased, lol.)

The locker room was filled with your typical class clowns, sickeningly thin nerds, sports buffs (who made the sickeningly thin nerds feel even more self-conscious and insecure), delinquents, and high-strung and uptight hall monitors. I fit into neither of the mentioned above categories, but I admit I was falling into the classification of sickeningly thin nerd

Lee Joon, one of Chungdam's well-known sports buffs, was in the midst of an intense lightsaber battle with his best friend Bang Mir, the poster boy for class clowns everywhere. Both males were balancing atop the locker benches. Joon's name is a dull, yet charming, shade of carnelian while Mir's name is a lively shade of electric crimson. (A/N: For the sake of time and space I decided not to describe the scent and taste of Joon and Mir's name. If it bothers you I'll be sure to add the scents and tastes later on upon request.)

Joon was stripped down to nothing but his boxers, arrogantly showcasing his well-built abs. Mir, on the other hand, thought it would be freaking hilarious to go stark and wear his boxer briefs over his head. Once compared with Mir, Joon seemed to have some self-respect.

I ducked my head down expertly as Mir accidentally swung his light saber at me, nearly beheading me with his assigned red light saber. Minho, his large, ebony orbs now widened to the size of saucers and threatening to pop right out of their sockets, gawked from Joon to Mir to myself, all the while his mouth standing agape. I glanced over at Minho apologetically.

"You get used to it after about three years," I reassured him. Minho could only nod dumbly in response. Joon and Mir had ceased their light saber fight the moment Minho and I walked past.

"Who's the new guy?" Joon bellowed, hopping off the bench and skillfully landing on his two feet. He began eyeing Minho intently, occasionally glancing over at me. I felt rather uncomfortable under Joon's gaze, but Minho held his ground. He stared back at Joon with a seemingly blank expression, but his ebony orbs were lit ablaze and elicited flames. Maybe it was all in my head.

"Minho, let's go," I whispered urgently as I advanced towards my gym locker. Minho shot Joon a final flaming charisma stare before trailing after me. From behind us, I could hear Joon give an audible and arrogant scoff. There was no doubt in my mind that Minho had heard Joon as well.

"I'll see you around," Joon called out obnoxiously. Much to my relief, Minho ignored him. I praised the deities of dairy for not cursing Minho with a haughty attitude.

"Do you have a gym locker already?" I asked Minho as I began unlocking the lock of my locker. Minho shook his head.

"I don't have my gym clothes, either," he admitted.

"Then you should go to Coach Han's office. I'm sure he'll assign a locker to you and lend you some gym clothes," I suggested as I opened my locker. I sifted through the contents before pulling out my oversized gym shirt. I held the objectionable shirt to my torso, sighing as the hem reached below my knees.

"Are you sure that's a shirt and not a gown?" Minho remarked jokingly. I pouted, feigning frustration.

"Very funny," I muttered as I set the gym tee aside and gripped at the hem of my own shirt. I pulled the hem of my shirt up roughly an inch before I felt Minho's heated gaze lingering on my body. "You should see Coach Han now. Gym starts in five," I murmured, blushing profusely. Minho tore his gaze away from me and cleared his throat.

"Right. I'll see you later," he muttered under his breath as he ambled off. Once I was certain that Minho had left, I heaved a heavy sigh of relief and removed my shirt, hastily throwing on the gown which was my gym tee. How embarrassing would it have been if Minho watched me undress? The more I overanalyzed that possibility, the redder my cheeks grew. I shook my head, ultimately dismissing the thought.

After ridding of my jeans, I slipped my disgustingly slender legs into my gym shorts. I had to tie the drawstring into several knots to prevent the shorts from sliding right off my slim waist. Although the shorts were much too large for someone of my skinny frame, the cuffs reached barely two inches below the hem of my gym shirt.

I heard someone clear their throat audibly from behind me. I spun around, meeting Minho face-to-face. In his arms was a bundle of ratty looking garments. The deplorable realization of Minho being able to take a nice, long look at my distasteful and grotesque gym-clothes-self for the remainders of the long school year hit me in an instant. I felt as if someone had lit my face on fire.

"You look nice," Minho remarked, giving my gym attire a knowing glance. I was about to accuse him of shamelessly lying to my face, but there was something about the tone in his voice. Rather than tainted with humor, he sounded sincere. However, no matter how I saw it, I still thought I looked pretty terrible. I nodded my head towards the bundle in his hands.

"You should get changed. I can wait for you, if you want," I offered. Minho shook his head, politely declining my offer.

"Nah. I'll meet you out there with the others," Minho said as he set down his gym clothes.

"If you're sure," I said with a shrug. I gave him a brief wave, to which he returned with a small grin, before turning around and heading towards the exit of the locker room. As I rounded the corner, I stole one final glance at Minho only to see that he was in the midst of removing his shirt. I blushed madly for the umpeenth time that day as I caught a brief glimpse of his muscular and well-toned upper half. I snapped out of my daze and shuffled towards the gymnasium.

As I entered the crowded gymnasium cramped with clamorous clusters of chattering teens, I was welcomed by a familiar dense highlighter green haze. I strolled aimlessly alongside the perimeters of the gymnasium all the while avoiding as many students as I could manage, just as I have been doing ever since my first year of gym class in seventh grade.

I never did bode well with the students of my generation. That had remained, without fail, a solid fact, even now that I had promoted to high school. I purposely excluded myself from the rest of the world, and in return the world did the same to me. However, don't confuse excluding oneself with one being antisocial. I wasn't the best with people, but my people skills were sufficient enough for me to live.

It wasn't so much that people treated me differently or that they viewed me as anything lower than a human. It was more so that the veil of division which separates me from others was prominent; it always has been. I was so afraid that if ever let down the mental barrier I had constructed all these years, then I would become unstable. Nobody but two people ever did manage to break down that mental barrier; nobody but Key...and Minho.

"Taemin-ah!" a friendly voice called out, interrupting my deep thoughts. I lifted my head up, meeting the warm eyes of Lee Donghae. I was always fond of Donghae's name. The color is a rich, caramel brown. It smelled of freshly baked bread and left the faint taste of almond milk upon my tastebuds. His name was very homey, you could say.

Donghae smiled at me and held out his arms. I returned his smile with a small grin and stepped over to him. Donghae enveloped me in a warm, brotherly embrace. After a few brief seconds, he released his hold on me and stepped back.

"How's my little dongsaeng?" Donghae asked, casually draping an arm across my shoulders.

"Fine," I responded curtly. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed Cho Kyuhyun silently shuffling along behind Donghae and me. "Annyeong, Kyu hyung," I greeted Kyuhyun politely. He nodded in my direction before averting his gaze from me. Kyuhyun's name is quite an attractive red wine hue, tastes of the bittersweet tang of cranberries, and smells of fresh, crisp apples in the summer.

Donghae and Kyuhyun, both seniors, had been in my period of gym for as long as I could remember. Over the years, a close bond had formed between Donghae and I. Despite his popularity, which only seemed to escalate year after year, Donghae had always been friendly with me and made an effort to exchange a few words with me every day. Kyuhyun was a nice fellow, but he was rather reserved and often kept to himself. 

The only students Kyuhyun openly conversed with were his exclusive group of friends (which included over ten other male seniors), and Donghae (who was also a part of that group). To be honest, Kyuhyun and his tightly-knit pack of rowdy chingus intimidated me quite a lot (with the exception of Donghae, of course). Therefore, I avoided Donghae altogether when the circumstances were set outside of gym class.

"Yah, Lee Taemin," Donghae called out to me, once again snapping me out of my "deep-in-thought" mode. "We never hang out," Donghae whined with a pout. I chuckled at his poorly played out crybaby façade.

"So it would seem," I answered him easily. At that moment, I noticed a rather baffled looking Minho enter the gymnasium. He glanced around before setting his eyes upon me. A lump welled up in my throat as I took notice of the way his eyebrows raised as he eyed the position of Donghae's arm draped over my shoulders in a casual manner. I swallowed hard and gently shook Donghae's arm off of me.

"What do you say about going out to lunch with me and the guys tomorrow?" he offered. Donghae's motives were purely innocent and he sincerely sounded as if he wanted to spend some quality time with me, but I sort of anticipated, although it was unplanned and unspoken of, that I would be spending more time with Minho.

"Uh...er...I..." I stammered unintelligently. I cast a nervous glance over to Minho, who was looking rather distraught. I was almost one hundred percent certain that he had overheard Donghae. I took a couple steps away from Donghae, bowing apologetically. "Sorry, I have plans. Maybe some other time, okay?" I told him. Without waiting for a response, I began hobbling over to Minho. "See you later!" I called out over my shoulder.

Once I had joined Minho's side, the elder male laced a toned arm protectively about my slender waist. I felt the pale, milky flesh of my cheeks burn a furious deep scarlet upon the intimate contact. Minho then cast Donghae a fiery gaze.

"Who was that?" Minho asked, his eyes never tearing away from Donghae. I could have sworn I noticed a devilish spark in his eyes. It must have been my imagination.

"Lee Donghae. I've known him for awhile," I responded. Minho's body tensed and the deep, ebony pools in his orbs became restless. "We're not close or anything!" I quickly added, waving my palms in protest. For some odd reason, I felt that it was necessary to add that portion of information. I admit that I couldn't help but feel a little guilty towards Donghae. Minho's expression seemed to soften, but only a smidge.

"I can see that," Minho murmured softly. He then tore his gaze away from Donghae and relaxed his secure hold about my waist. I awkwardly stumbled out of his grasp and glanced at him warily. Was Minho jealous of Donghae? The thought seemed absurd. Then again, absurd happenings seemed to have taken a liking to my life.

At that moment, Coach Han's whistle sounded. The instrument's shrill shriek emitted silver abstract circles. The abstract shapes bobbed along the air in a tight cluster before dispersing. The shapes floated along every which way before popping as the shriek of Coach Han's whistle died down.

"LINE UP, LADIES!" Coach Han hollered. Immediately, the assemblages of students scattered about in a disorganized haste. All the students under Coach Han's gym class shuffled over to their assigned numbers. Minho was left standing awkwardly to the side, just glancing around him. Coach Han caught sight of an awkward looking Minho and waved him over.

"You must be Choi Minho," Coach Han muttered, mostly to himself, as he thumbed through his clipboard.

"N-neh..." Minho answered somewhat timidly.

"Hmph, I must've missed the memo that your first day was today," Coach Han grumbled in a disgruntled tone.

"Ah, jinja?" Minho said submissively. He decided to just go along with whatever Coach Han said. Although Minho stood at a towering six feet compared to Coach Han's threatening five foot, and two-and-a-half inches, the man did emit that cliche intimidating gym teacher aura. There was no doubt in Minho's mind that if he ever crossed the wrong path with Coach Han, he'd get a serious midget -whooping.

"Of course, really! What do you take me as? A liar?" the coach squawked. Minho felt taken aback.

"A-aniyo, sungsaengnim!" Minho cried out in protest. The gym teacher harrumphed.

"A jittery one, aren't yee? No matter, you can sit up front for now," Coach Han huffed, nodding his head over to a line of students which was adjacent to my line. Minho silently complied and hurriedly hobbled over to the area Coach Han had referred to.

"Gwenchana, Minho hyung?" I whispered to Minho whose face was a tinge green. Minho heaved a sigh and nodded his head slowly.

"LISTEN UP, YOU UNGRATEFUL BASKETS!" the gym teacher hollered out to us once again. His voice boomed throughout the entire gymnasium, which resulted in numerous other classes besides his own to become dead silent. The masses of other students peered up, eyes wide with fright, at the vertically challenged man.

"Assuming you faces aren't blind, I'm guessing that you can all see that we have a new student today. Ladies, meet Choi Minho. He transferred to this Godforsaken hellhole all the way from Incheon. Everybody give him a warm Chungdam welcome."

Without sparing a millisecond for the students to so much as utter a peep, Coach Han blew the living daylights out of his vexatious whistle. All eyes which were previously fixated onto Minho had snapped back to focus onto Coach Han.

As I stole a final glance at Minho, I took notice that the poor guy was as red as a beet. On a side note, I had no idea Minho was from Incheon. He seemed to have illusively left out that bit of information about himself. Then again, I hadn't bothered to ask him myself.

Once Coach Han completed taking roll call, he announced that there were no activities scheduled for gym class today. This earned a manifold of boisterous hoots and hollers. A thin, greenish film diffused into the air only to immediately dispel as the silver abstract circles of Coach Han's whistle garnered once again.

The once assembled lines of students immediately separated off into their own bands of friends. Minho and I remained seated on the polished wooden floor of the gymnasium. I quickly scooted my bony bottom over to his location only about a yard away from where I previously sat. Once I situated myself beside him, he gave a warm, and somewhat relieved, smile.

"Is Coach Han always this...insolent?" Minho asked.

"Pretty much. You're lucky today, though. Usually he makes the new students run miles for the entire class period," I fibbed. Minho's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Jinja? Waeyo?" he asked in a shaken voice. I cackled evilly at the evident fear in his eyes.

"On their hands," I added, my voice laced with mischief. I couldn't resist belting out in a fit of laughter as the pupils of Minho's large eyes rolled back into their sockets. He bit down on his forearm and let out a muffled scream. I proceeded to give Minho light pats on the back. "Gwenchana, hyung. I was only joking," I told him.

 

After granting him my reassurance, Minho seemed to relax a bit. The two of us continued to chat amongst ourselves, never minding the world around us. I mostly let Minho do the talking, of course. His baritone voice was so alluring. If only I could record every word he spoke, coherent or not, and create an mp3 file of it. Oh, how I’d abuse that audio.

I exerted as much effort as I could to remain attentive throughout the conversation, but I just could not bring myself to focus. Everything about Minho was so attractive. His ebony doe-like orbs, his wavy mess of raven locks, his perfectly plump Cupid’s bow lips. Choi Minho, why must you be so distracting? You even distract me from yourself.

“You’re Choi Minho, right?” an arrogant Lee Joon called out, snapping me out of my daze. Joon then advanced towards us, a ball tucked under his arm. A group of six or seven girls were “subtly” trailing after him, occasionally pointing at him then erupting in hyena-like giggles.

“Wanna shoot some hoops with me and the guys?” Joon offered, not bothering to wait for a response to his previous question. I glanced over at Minho worriedly. What if he accepted Joon’s offer? Then I’d be alone today. What if he became Joon’s friend? Then I’d be alone every day.

Surely, Minho would decline. After all, I did abandon Donghae for him. Well, it was actually one hundred percent voluntarily that I had left Donghae. I preferred to be with Minho, anyway. Much to my relief, and to Joon’s surprise, Minho shook his head lightly, silently declining. Joon gaped at Minho for a few moments before glaring defiantly at him.

"Yah! Who do you think you are to refuse me?” Joon barked. I winced at Joon’s sudden, and very much unnecessary, outburst, but Minho didn’t even flinch.

“You’re awfully arrogant, aren’t you? I suggest you quit rubbing your ego in my face and domineer elsewhere. I’m in no mood to deal with someone as pretentious as you,” Minho retaliated. Joon stood there with a blank expression for a few moments, still seemingly processing Minho’s words.

“Y-yah, preten…mwoh?” Joon stammered, obviously nonplussed by Minho’s vocabulary which exceeded far from the haughty male’s knowledge. Minho chuckled darkly, somewhat bemused by Joon’s inanity.

“For someone as presumptuous as you, you’re pretty superficial,” Minho muttered in a blasé tone. Minho’s condescending statements, as brilliant as they were, only seemed to ignite Joon’s already inclining fury even further. He growled menacingly at Minho.

“Aish! Fine, then! Have fun with the transual, you !” Joon hollered. Out of sheer animosity and ruthlessness, Joon then proceeded to chuck the basketball, which was previously tucked under his arm, with as much strength as he could muster at Minho’s face, which was smug from shattering Joon’s pride.

Much to my misfortune, Joon’s aim was considerably horrible despite the fact that he was only standing a mere two yards away from where Minho and I sat. My forehead was barraged by an oncoming basketball hurdling towards me at about seventy-seven miles per hour.

At that moment, the world became a dull gray, as vapid and lackluster as a black and white film. I felt a strange sense of vertigo. I felt as if I had spun around fifty times and then was forced to run in a straight line from one end of the gymnasium to the other.

I don’t remember falling flat against my back onto the gymnasium floor. I don’t remember Joon scampering away like a wimpy lily liver. All that my fuzzy mind could recall was a very chafed and baffled Coach Han and a considerably agonized, distressed, and frantic Minho.

I gingerly lifted a quivering hand to my aching forehead. I might or might not have cried out in pain as my fingertips brushed against the now raw and bruising flesh. It felt as if little trolls were hammering the inside of my skull and using my brain as a bounce house. I could already tell there was a massive black and blue bruise forming which would be caked onto my ghostly pale flesh for days.

“Mister Lee needs to be taken to the infirmary so he can get that forehead iced. He may have a minor concussion so he’ll need to be checked up for that immediately,” Coach Han asserted in a surprisingly calm and collected voice. Minho nodded and heaved me up from the floor.

The moment I was set onto my own two feet, my body wobbled and tilted to the left. If it hadn’t been for Minho, I would have collapsed to the floor. I slung an arm over Minho’s shoulder, using him for support as we both exited the gymnasium. I paid no attention to the murmurs and pointed fingers directed towards me.

Once we set foot onto the quad, I unhooked my arm from around Minho’s so I could begin walking without his support. Once I did, however, the severe pounding sensation returned to my head once again. I gripped my head in agony.

“Na apa! It hurts!” I whined. Suddenly, I felt a pair of muscular arms lift me up from my own two feet. Sweet mother of all things sacred and holy…Choi Minho was carrying me, Lee Taemin, bridal style. As the realization hit me, I felt the milky white flesh of my cheeks burn a violent shade of magenta.

Every oxygen cell in my body had simply dematerialized. No matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to utter a single word. It’s like I had lost the ability to function my brain or formulate coherent thoughts. I remained silent for several moments as Minho carried me to the infirmary.

“I can walk, you know,” I muttered under my breath. By some miracle, my ability to speak had returned. Minho simply scoffed and rolled his eyes at me.

“No, you can’t,” Minho persisted. I whimpered in protest but he simply chose to ignore me.

“Really, I can walk by myself. Besides, it’s embarrassing having to be carried all the way to the health office,” I iterated. When I received no response from Minho, I pouted and began squirming in his hold. “Aren’t I heavy, hyung?” I said in a singsong-y voice.

“Nope,” Minho responded curtly. I sighed in defeat.

There really was no getting out of this, was there? Not that I minded. In fact, the reality of Minho carrying me caused my heart to hammer so violently against my ribcage, I was certain that my chest would rupture at any given moment. I only prayed that Minho could not hear my heart beating in such a reckless way, my heart beating this way for him.

Thanks to my sense of directionl, we had reached the infirmary in a few moments time. I have to admit that I was feeling rather disappointed once Minho had set me down. I instantly missed the feeling of being in his arms.

The health nurse coaxed me to lie down on the stiff cot which seemed to resemble a gurney rather than the berth it was purposed to be. The health nurse then shimmied off to fetch me an ice pack. Once she had left, Minho, who had previously been leaning against the wall the entire time, stepped towards me.

Minho sat at the edge of the cot I was lying on. He then fixed a heated stare upon my face. I closed my eyes, pretending not to notice his intense gaze burning into my flesh.

“How are you feeling?” he asked me. His voice seemed so distant.

“Better,” I replied. Truthfully, I could already feel the sharp pain beginning to slowly ebb away. Minho sighed in relief.

“That’s good,” he said. Then, I no longer felt the weight at the edge of the cot. My eyelids shot open in surprise.

“Where are you going?” I asked timidly. To be quite honest, I didn’t want Minho to leave my side. Minho then reseated himself beside me onto as much space as the cot would allow.

“Scoot over,” he muttered. I stared at him for a few moments, taking notice of how the tanned flesh of his cheeks were tinged a light pink.

“S-sure,” I stammered, scooting closer to the wall. I took a sharp intake of breath as I felt Minho’s body brush up against mine. The hammering pain in my head had been replaced with the pounding of my heart against my chest. The cot really did not provide much space for one person, let alone two.

Minho had ceased his stirring once we were both situated in a somewhat awkward, yet comfortable position. I was aware of our close proximity, and I could hear my own heartbeat in my eardrums. Minho’s body radiated with warmth, the same warmth that a fuzzy wool blanket provided. As I felt my heart soaring, I sighed in content.

Then, it was silent. However, the silence was not at all awkward or uncomfortable. The atmosphere did not feel stuffy or suffocating. In fact, I never felt more at ease. The silence Minho and I shared was pleasant and somewhat enjoyable. Just as no words need to be spoken between two close friends, an exchange of words was not necessary between Minho and me.

I've only known Choi Minho for roughly an hour. Although, it feels like I've known him forever, like I've held him in my heart for centuries. It had taken the rest of elementary school and half of middle school for Key to finally break through my shell. Why is it that it had taken Minho only a few minutes? Perhaps I was blinded by my infatuation, which seemed to have constructed itself much too quickly for my liking.

I’d be making a liar out of myself if I said I didn’t enjoy the way Minho made me feel. Not just how he affected my sensory perceptions, but my heart as well. Who knew that one name could change my life entirely. Here I was, lying down on a cot in the infirmary beside Choi Minho, and I’m already contemplating life. Joon must have hit my head harder than I anticipated.

I may or may not have drifted off into a brief period of unconsciousness. What I was certain of is that when I awoke, considering I had fallen asleep, Minho was no longer by my side. Resting against my forehead was a pack of ice. I sat up abruptly, causing the ice pack to slide down my face and onto my lap.

I must have gotten up too quickly because the intolerable hammering feeling returned to my head once again. I groaned in pain. The nurse must have heard me because she rushed in only seconds after I had cried out in pain. She coaxed me to lie down again, and I complied.

“You should be lying down. No sudden movements,” the nurse murmured softly. I grunted in response. Just as the nurse was about to shuffle away, I called her back.

“Uh, nurse noona? Can you tell me where my friend went?” I asked her, my heart thumping against my chest. She glanced up at the ceiling, seeming deep in thought. Then she snapped her fingers.

“Ah! That tall, handsome fellow? He went to go fetch your things for you. He’ll be back momentarily, I’m sure. For now, just rest until he returns.” And with that, the nurse exited the room. I sighed in relief. Minho had not abandoned me after all. The thought of him committing such a gentlemen-like deed for me made my heart flutter in my chest.

“Taemin?” a familiar baritone voice called out. Sure enough, Minho had returned. He had changed out of his gym uniform and his arms were equipped with a bundle of my garments and my backpack. I sat up again, ignoring the nurse’s prior warning, and swung my legs over the edge of the cot.

“You got my things for me? You really shouldn’t have,” I teased, patting the space beside me. Minho scoffed and sat alongside me.

“Well, if you really think I shouldn’t have, I’ll just put all your things back where I found it,” Minho threatened jokingly. I shoved him playfully.

“Gomawo,” I murmured shyly, removing the bundle from Minho’s arms and placing them at my feet. Minho cleared his throat and shrugged.

“Lee Taemin?” the nurse called out, stepping into the room.

“Yeh?” I answered.

“It’s best that you’re sent home. There’s no need for you to remain for one more school period. I believe that you do have a minor concussion, but it’s nothing to be too concerned about. I recommend that you get that checked out,” the nurse mumbled in a robotic tone, flipping through her clipboard.

“Ah. I see,” I muttered unintelligently. There really wasn’t much else to say.

“Shall I phone a parent or guardian for you?” the nurse asked.

“Er, well-“

“I can take him home,” Minho suggested out of the blue. Both the nurse and I casted Minho skeptical glances.

“I don’t think you’re obligated to take Taemin home. Plus, you must attend your remaining classes,” the nurse said uneasily. Minho sunk lower in his seat, obviously disappointed.

“Actually, nurse noona,” I piped up, “there’s just no way I can get my parents to leave work and pick me up. I’ll have to walk home. I think it’s safest if Minho accompanies me, don’t you think?” I said with a wide grin. The nurse frowned. She was obviously fully against the suggestion.

“Jeeeeeeebal~” I pleaded, using as much aegyo as I could muster. I even forced a pout. I could already feel whatever pride I had, if any, shattering as I took full notice of Minho’s mocking grin from the corner of my eye. The nurse sighed in exasperation and slapped on a weak grin.

“Araso. I’ll allow…Minho…to chaperon you. He is to immediately return to school once the deed is done, understood?” the nurse asserted. Minho and I nodded in unison. We both stood up and inclined our bodies at a one hundred eighty degree angle.

“Kamsahamnida!” we chirped simultaneously.

I carelessly stuffed my day clothes into my backpack then slung the pack over my shoulder. Due to my laziness, I hadn’t bothered to change out of my obscene gym clothes. Oh, well. It wasn’t as if anyone I cared about would see me. Oh, right. Minho was the one walking me home. No matter, I was surprisingly one hundred percent fine with the fact that Minho would be seeing me at one of my worst times.

The stroll from Chungdam to my home was a brief and beautiful one. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, emitting deliciously sweet and flowery scents into the air. Minho and I did not dare speak to one another, for the fear of shattering the perfectness of the moment was on both of our minds.

Rather than exchange words, Minho and I traipsed side by side, ambling along the sidewalk. We would occasionally bump shoulders with one another, the roughness of our bumps gradually increasing with every shove. We were both silently competing for more room than the other to walk along the sidewalk.

Our clean play was innocent enough. That is until Minho accidentally shoved me a little too hard, being the competitive person that he is. My flimsy body sailed onto a patch of bushes. A hundred “mianhaeyo’s” later and Minho had finally ceased his seemingly endless string of apologies, even after I had reassured him that all was well.

The walk alone would have taken ten minutes at the most, but Minho and I decided to leisurely amble along, thus the walk to my home ended up taking nearly half an hour. Not that I minded, of course. I could barely suppress my disappointment as Minho walked me to the front porch, and then announced that it was time for him to take his leave.

“Are you sure you don’t want to step inside?” I offered. Although it was meant to come off as a friendly suggestion, the plea was evident in my voice. I really have no pride, do I? Minho grinned apologetically and shook his head, politely declining my invitation.

“I really should start walking back to the school,” Minho said with a sigh. I pouted.

“School’s pretty much over anyway, so there’s no point walking back. Just come in for a drink,” I insisted, fishing for my keys in my backpack. When did I become so shameless? Minho shook his head once again.

“In that case, I should be heading home. I don’t want to worry my umma,” Minho said. I sighed, feeling utterly dejected.

“Alright, then. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I muttered as I began unlocking the front door. I had not even set one foot inside my home when Minho grasped my elbow, ing me around to face him. Being the man I am, I squeaked in surprise. I silently congratulated myself as I noticed the corners of Minho’s lips twitch up into a furtive grin.

“I’ll come over some other time, okay?” Minho promised. I cast him a questioning look before sticking out my pinky finger.

“Yagsogul?” I asked him, wriggling my pinky finger in his face. Minho chuckled his deep, beautiful chuckle before lacing his own pinky finger with mine. I let out an inaudible gasp as Minho wove his finger tightly into mine. For a moment, I believed that he would never let go. Of course, he had to release his hold on my pinky at that exact moment.

“I promise,” he affirmed. Then Minho ruffled my hair, gazing at me with his beautiful ebony orbs as he did so. All was silent for a moment as we both continued to gaze into each other’s orbs for a few brief seconds, though it felt like hours. Honestly, I didn’t mind. I could gaze into Minho’s eyes for an eternity.

“You’re really cute, Taemin,” Minho murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I felt my cheeks flush a rosy pink at Minho’s words. I smiled shyly and averted my gaze. Overcome with sudden embarrassment, I let my eyes wander anywhere but Minho’s face. Then, I felt something warm brush across my cheek. It was the back of Minho's fingers gently caressing the flesh of my heated cheeks.

I glanced up at him through a fan of my thick, dark lashes. He was grinning at me, a glint of affection noticeable in his usually cold, unfeeling eyes. A sudden warmth overcame me and I couldn't help but return the smile. At that moment, I knew Minho would always be an important person in my life.

"I'll see you tomorrow, cutie," Minho cooed as he lightly pinched my cheek. Then he bounded down the porch steps. He waved at me once, to which I returned with an enthusiastic wave of my own, before turning around and moseying down the sidewalk towards Chungdam, his own home, who knows?

I only entered my home the moment Minho's retreating form was no longer in my sight. I shut the door behind me and let my body lean against the sturdy wood. My back slid down the wood until my bottom hit the floor. I was smiling so wide that I was sure my face would split in half at any given moment.

"He called me cute," I murmured to myself while breathing out a contented sigh. Minho called me cute a total of three times, in fact! I was feeling so elated that I was sure my entire body would explode from all this euphoria. In order to relieve myself, I screamed out of pure happiness until all the oxygen left my lungs.

 

A/N: TAEMIN IS SUCH A FANGIRL OMG. Sorry if this chapter was stupid lol I at being funny and interesting :-( Tbh I didn’t know what I was typing half the time. I know that Meanhoe’s and Taemin’s relationship is moving kinda fast okay just deal with it. Idk why you’d complain in the first place I mean they’re so kawaii lol. I expect lots of comments and new subscribers when I return or I won’t update forever. Mean author is mean. Jk I’m actually a really nice person.