*A/N: please note POV shift in second section

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                   I didn’t fully realize that Taemin had been sleeping on the couch until later that night when I got up to pee. I was feeling much better now thanks to him, though I’d never admit it then. He was faithful to keep water and crackers on my nightstand, along with a steady dose of Motrin for my achiness (always the same amount sitting on a napkin in place of leaving the whole bottle, which I assumed he'd confiscated for the threat of me OD'ing). Hell, he even put Chapstick on my lips when I wasn’t conscious of it. This kid was no joke.

                  Well, he is getting paid for it, I reminded myself. I guess it wasn’t too weird then. It was just a job to him. And he was good at what he did apparently.

                  At any rate, after I left the bathroom I saw him there, huddled into a long-limbed ball on my sofa. He must have brought a few things from home—a pillow, a thin blanket with some retro design on it he’d most likely had since high school.

                  An intern with no money. It only added to his cuteness somehow. Even his sad excuse for pajamas—the faded cartoon print of his pants and tattered grey T-shirt…

                  He’s just an overgrown child. A kid. A kid…

                  I snicker under my breath and fetch a better blanket from the linen closet, soon after draping it over his body. As I do, I pause to study the features of his face more carefully. God knows why. It’s like impulse now.

                  Lee Taemin, you mystery, I think. How is it that you are this way…?

                  He stirred a little, as if he sensed some disturbance in his sleep. I back away before he can recognize me. I don’t want him to know I’m there. Quickly, I retreat and settle back in bed, where I would wait for him to find me again in the morning.

* * * 

                  That was the first time I felt him there, watching over me. When I woke up it was still dark outside, the house quiet and settled; yet when I looked more carefully I saw that there was a blanket over me. He’d come and covered me—it was hard for me to believe. I thought I sensed him in my sleep, and here this was—it must have been true. I tried not to think much on it; instead I got up—it was a quarter till six anyway, might as well—and crept down the hall in order to peak in on him. Honestly, I was just thankful for every minute he remained alive. Honestly, I just wanted to keep him from doing anything crazy ever again. And so far? It seemed it was working…

                  He was asleep. Peaceful and calm, the hard edges of his stern face now smoothed over. He must have been dreaming something nice. It was a relief to see—that gentleness return, that handsome look of kindness. It was the way I first remembered him.

                  The way I first remembered him…

                  This was the lasting thought in my mind as I started breakfast, which I would keep warm for whenever he decided to wake up to the new day.  

* * * 

                   “You’re my ‘personal servant,’ aren’t you…?”

                   This was the one thing I remember asking in the dream. And Taemin’s reaction? He seemed shocked, surprised—but not resistant. Yet I woke up before anything happened. Thank god, I woke up before anything happened…

                  The normal, accustomed clatter was sounding in the kitchen. The sun was up, but not too high; I could tell that the day was young. The entire house smelled like a Sunday morning; it was hard not to be happy under such circumstances. I found it amusing that Taemin, who I would later learn preferred hot chocolate with two packets of sugar added and a dose of creamer (which he would, in turn, call his "coffee"), would brew coffee every morning but not drink it. He always had it ready for me, just in case. He knew I liked it black; I don’t know how, but he knew the most trivial of things, just like he’d said.

                  This morning, I decided to take him up on the offer. This morning, I felt good. This morning, things would change a little. “You know, you really don’t have to stay here,” I said as I swept my toast through the egg yoke on my plate. This morning, I'd eaten well. Drank his coffee. Smiled when he sat down beside me. 

                  “I don’t mind,” he replied. “I like it here.”

                  “Don’t you need to go home? Aren't there things to take care of there?”

                  Taemin shrugged. "Oh, I’ve been back. I take care of myself there, if that’s what you mean. Showering and such. I hope you don’t think I’m abusing your hospitality.”

                  “What hospitality?” I laughed. “You never gave me a choice. You invaded my life without any input on my part.”

                  “It worked, didn’t it? It’s clear you needed the help.”

                  “I don’t need anything…” As I said this, my voice trailed almost breathlessly. I was starting to disbelieve even myself. “It’s been a few days. What are you planning, a week—? Wouldn’t you prefer a bed to a sofa? That can’t be comfortable.”  

                  “However long is necessary. Besides, kids can sleep anywhere, right? That’s what you’re really thinking, hyung.”

                  “I just want you to be comfortable—”

                  “Why?”

                   Honestly, I didn’t know. I didn’t know how to answer this. “At any rate, I’m feeling better; there really isn’t a need for a 24/7 servant.”

                    “Servant?”

                    For some reason it sounded weird coming out of his mouth this time. Strange, wrong. “Er—that’s what you called yourself, remember? My personal servant…”

                   “Oh, yeah!” he laughed. “I forgot about that.”

                   In just the few times he'd done it, I had gotten used to seeing Taemin sitting on the edge of my bed this way, next to me, absorbed in his own thoughts and unyielding smile as he watched me eat the food he’d made by hand. “Aren’t you going to eat?” I blurted out all at once, seemingly taking him by surprise. “I mean, you make me food but you never eat any of it…”

                  “That would hardly be right, would it, hyung?” he said. “I’m here to work for you, not myself. I eat at home, when I go.”

                  “You never go. I never see you.”

                  “I go when you’re sleeping.”

                  “But you’re always here when I wake up… how do you know when I’m sleeping?”

                  “I know you well enough,” he smiled. “Again, you underestimate me.” Here, Taemin reached for my now-empty plate, accidentally brushing his hand against mine as he took it. I felt a strange pulse down my spine, and he looked somewhat coy all of a sudden, which only made my body surge all the more.

                  It was that dream… it was that damn dream—

                  “It must take a good hour or two for you to go home and do all that," I say nervously. "Why not just do that kind of stuff here? You know, if you’re making all that food anyway…”

                  This also seemed to surprise him. “I wouldn’t think of it,” he said. “Mr. Roh is giving me a stipend to take care of you…”

                  “For how long?”

                  “For as long as needed…”

                  “And he says what’s needed? Not me?”

                  “Not you, hyung…”                

                  “And what I say doesn’t matter?”

                  “Depends on what you have to say…”

                  “Stay here. Eat here. It only makes sense.”            

                  “I thought you said the couch was—”

                  “Not the couch. There’s… an extra bed. In the spare room.” These words were almost painful to get out. I’d not gone into that room once since she left. The room we were going to turn into—

                  “I couldn’t do that; that’s too much.”

                  “You’re like my employee, right? It's really inconvenient to not have you here. I'm not going to be sleeping much from now on. And I like to eat. It would only annoy me to have inconsistency.”

                  “Since when are employers responsible for lodging their employees in their home?”  

                  “But you live far away—what if I need you?”

                  “I thought you said you didn’t need me,” he snickered amusedly. "Besides, you don't even know where I live. And if you tell me you've seen my paystub, I won't believe you."

                  I sank back against the headboard of the bed. “Fine. Whatever you want then.”

                  “Don’t go back to being angry so fast. I like this other side of you.”

                  “Bull. I don’t have sides.”

                  Taemin chuckled at this. “See? There's that fiery side of you. You do know, hyung, that it doesn't scare me, right? I've grown rather used to it.”        

                  I shift my eyes away. “You’re an idiot,” I say with little emphasis. “I don’t really care what you do.”

                  "I know." 

                  "I’ll be fine in no time anyway."

                  “I hope so. I really do.”

                  "I'm not even sick!"

                  He looked at me like I was pathetic for saying this. "It isn't me you have to convince, but your boss."

                  "This is stupid..."

                  "Sure, it is~" he beamed.

                  Like always, I could not affect him.

                  "Are you a doctor?"

                  "Are you? Just because you are feeling better does not mean that you are fully well." 

                  I let out a generous sigh. "Fine, songsaenim." I paused a moment and stared at him. Really studied him. The soft curves of his face, the gentleness in his eyes, the creased corners of his perpetually upturned lips. I don’t know why I did—even though I saw her face in his, I don’t know why I was drawn to him. “If you change your mind, the room is yours.”

                  Taemin seemed too unsettled by this to reply. Did I finally scare him? This? I hadn’t been able to shirk his confidence in the slightest but now it was my sense of charity that caused him to doubt?

                  “Hyung…” he started rather insecurely. “That’s very kind of you to offer.”

                  “I mean, it doesn’t put me out at all. And I’d rather you not make a mess in my living room in plain sight.”

                  The switch in tone seemed to settle him again. “Ah, okay. If it’s for housekeeping reasons, I’ll stay in the room instead. I’m sure it won’t be long; you’re really doing well. Aren’t you?”

                  I could tell he wanted to ask something specific, so I offer preemptively: “You worried I’ll kill myself on your watch?”

                  Taemin stretched here, then hid an unaffected yawn behind the flat of his hand. “Oh, no, I don’t think you will.”

                  “Why’s that?” I was surprised by the resurrected confidence.

                  “Because,” he said, “you’d hardly invite me to stay here longer than necessary if you meant to off yourself. You’d most likely want me gone as soon as possible—”             

                  Oh, god, this was sound logic after all. I hadn’t even thought it out. I hadn’t even thought…

                  I cleared my throat. “You think too much,” was all I could summon from my nervous mouth. As I did, I watched his thumbs twirling that familiar circle. I continue to study him. He was sitting slightly hunched over, like an adolescent boy who didn’t mind a sloppy posture. It made me happy for some reason, that for as formal as he could be, he could be equally informal. It only added to his air of vulnerable innocence.

                  Vulnerable innocence…? I was second-guessing myself and my own carnal cues.

                  “No one has ever accused me of that~”

                  “Tell me more useless facts,” I order suddenly.

                  “Why?”

                  “It amuses me. You make me feel good.”

                  God, why did I say that? It just slipped from my mouth…

                  Thankfully, Taemin sidled by the comment. “Did you know that Walt Disney was afraid of mice? Musophobia, that’s what it’s called.”               

                  “The fear of mice? Didn’t he create Mickey Mouse?”

                  “Fascinating, right?”

                  “I like it. Something else.”

                  “Did you know that there are more stars than grains of sand on the entire planet?”

                  “Chinchaa?”

                  “Or that a group of gorillas is called a shrewdness?”

                  “A shrewdness of gorillas?” I laughed.

                  Taemin nodded, beaming in his random act of self-knowledge. “Then there’s a stand of flamingos, a tower of giraffes, a blessing of unicorns—oh, and a murder of crows. An unkindness of ravens. Isn’t that weird, hyung?”

                  “So weird…” I said, but I’d not really heard the words as I watched, bewitched, the moving mouth that formed them. His lips were a similar shape as hers: the cupid bow, the plush coral invitation…

                  “Okay, your turn,” he said. “You tell me one.”

                  I was still busy memorizing his lips. “Do you know what vasocongestion is?” I didn’t think he would, so I wasn’t surprised when he shook his head. “It’s the rush of blood to certain areas of the body—like when you blush.”

                  “Oh,” he said easily. I knew he was curious where this was going.

                  “It’s the same sensation as when you get an .”

                  He giggled a little, like the young boy he seemed to be.

                  “You’re blushing now,” I teased. “It’s essentially a flush of heat. So… if you have in a hot environment, the more likely you’ll have a better time. Just something to remember the next time you get laid.” Naturally, at his age, I'd just assumed there had been a first time to begin with. I wondered, secretly, what kind of girl he was attracted to.

                  “Er… that’s a weird fact,” he said faintly, avoiding all eye contact. Perhaps as a way to switch subjects, Taemin added: “Did you know that your thumb is the same length as your nose?”

                  “Did you know that your foot is the same length as your—” I stop. What the hell was I doing? Why was I insistently bringing the conversation back into ual focus? I was thankful for the blankets now, very thankful. “Tell me: do you have a girlfriend? You said you’ve never been married, but I don’t really know much else about you.”

                  “I don’t see why that matters…”

                  “Oh~? There’s someone you like, isn’t there? Someone special~”

                  “What? No…”

                  “I can tell~”

                  “You can?”

                  “What’s her name?”

                  “It’s… there’s no one, hyung…”

                  “Come on—it’s not like I’m going to know her, right? Or do I—?” I grinned. “Got the hots for someone off limits? Don’t tell me it’s pretty Mrs. Park~ you sly bastard, she’s married, you know—”

                  Taemin stood to his feet. “It’s not that. There is no one.” His voice seemed defiant, upset. Had I insulted him?

                   I reached for his hand. “Taeminnie, mianhe—”

                  We heard the same word at the same time, both of us startled by it, though perhaps in different ways. What had I just said? Holy hell—what had I done? Were we so familiar now? When had this transition happened?

                  “ ‘Taeminnie’…?”

                  “Er—I…”

                  “Hyung…” His voice was soft and frail. Deceivingly coquettish and shy. 

                  “Yeah?”

                  We were still joined by the hand.

                  “I… I like that. That name...”

                  All at once, I gave into impulse without thinking it through: I tugged his arm and pulled him to me, and being that he was a light thing, in addition to that fact that it seemed he’d been immobilized by surprise, his body easily complied so that he was now sitting on the bed again, so close that I could see his chest heaving, could see the strange fear in his eye that only further compelled me—compelled me to invasively find those soft lips with mine without first asking, taking for myself the spoils which I somewhere convinced myself I needed to taste.

                 He tasted like hot chocolate. He tasted sweet. His skin smelled like vanilla and cream. To my surprise however, unlike my dream, Taemin complied only a second before defiantly pulling away. I could tell there was something he wanted to say—or was trying not to say. Even though he did not have the words, I ignored him. I pulled him in again, selfishly and inconsiderate of his silent protest, forcing again this release—this strange release that, no matter how alien, felt familiar at the same time. How long had it been since I felt a warm body pressed against mine, heart beating wildly, this way?

                  “H-hyung…” he breathed beneath the weight of my assaulting kiss.

                   Everything about him compelled my senses for more. It wasn't him so much as it was me: I'd gone too long without this. Too long without anything remotely ual. I was lonely; starving. Yes, yes, this was it: it was all me, not him. And I'd denied myself far too long…

                  It has nothing to do with him... 

                  I wouldn’t let him deny me. What did I care? He was here for me—my employee, my servant. There was nothing he could do. I didn’t have to care about him; he didn’t really care about me anyway. He was just working a job. Well, so could I: I still had him bound by the wrist. I forced him down on the bed and continued to kiss him, my body now hovering dominantly over his. How easily he could have used the plate in his other hand as a weapon against me, but instead he loosened his grip and abandoned it. He did not resist now, but he did not kiss me back. I didn’t want to stop to notice this then though; I didn’t want to care, only satisfy myself. My body was an incinerator where rationality burned away; I could not see sensibly now. I could only see the immediate—and the immediate was whatever I wished to make of it.

______

A/N:

Woh, Minho - you and your crazy hormones are going to cross the line if you're not careful! At any rate, I think we have now seen quite the transition in his heart, mind, body, whatever. Though, still not clear on some things. But for now, he kinda resembles our good 'ol Ho in real life now; can't keep his damn hands off Minnie. XD But that doesn't answer any of the other plot questions yet to be unfolded in the near future. Please look forward to it! 

I have a lot of 2min feelz atm. I had to stop there because I didn't want to turn into my "usual" -fest (which is happening in my head anyway...). But, gotta be true to the story, alas, so as a way to make up for it, here's a smexy rendition I found on Tumblr. I wish Lowry would take requests; I have so many scenes I'd like to "see"...  *_*

Best, UnnieM ♥

cr: Lowry | tumblr