The drive to school is silent as usual. Taemin sits in the passenger seat staring out the window. Taesun is next to him in the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to an invisible melody as he pulls into the parking lot. Taemin listens mildly. It’s not bad; he could definitely dance to it.

“I don’t have extra rehearsal today, so meet me at three,” Taesun says as he gets out of the car.

Taemin nods and exits, shivering as the slight chill in the fall air cuts through his thin cardigan. The look Taesun shoots him screams, ‘I told you to take a jacket,’ so Taemin turns his face slightly and pretends not see.

~

Taemin fidgets in his desk in the back corner of the classroom. He’s in a sea of noise and he just wants it to end. His head throbs and he’s dizzy and vaguely nauseous and he can’t decide whether he wants to run out of the room or curl up in a ball under his desk. He knows he shouldn’t have gone to class with so much time before homeroom. He fists his hands in his hair. The voices are back now, vague echoes of things he can’t remember, static in his head. It’s dark and there are shadows and screaming and there’s pain everywhere and he can feel it curling through his spine to his neck. Stop, make them stop, please, not now, Taemin begs with himself, blindly stumbling out of the classroom.

He rests for a minute against the wall, positive his heart is going to beat out of chest and his brain will explode. At least that’d be a cool way to die, he thinks lightly. When the world stops spinning and he can hear the noise beyond his head, he pushes off and fixes his hair, re-entering as the teacher does. Hopefully no one noticed his behavior. They’d ask questions. They might expect him to respond.

Taemin likes to speak about as much as he likes the sea of noise.

Rather, he doesn’t speak. He can speak; he was born with fully functional vocal chords (the doctor said he’d never heard such a loud newborn) and there was no debilitating disease that took this capacity from him. He simply doesn’t speak - not since the age of six.

He doesn’t remember why he stopped speaking. He woke up in a white room with an IV drip and his aunt, uncle, and brother crowded around him. Car accident, his uncle had said, there had been a car accident. His parents were dead on the scene. Something felt... odd, broken almost. He kept his mouth shut. He still does, not even his beloved brother knows about the nightmares and the flashbacks. He won’t tell Taesun; he doesn’t want to have to see a therapist.

Movement is now his preferred form of communication. It’s cleaner, purer even, with no added fluff. So he remains silent except during dance class when his body communicates all he ever needs to say for anyone willing to listen.

~

Taemin in air quickly, an odd imitation of a gasp, when he sees Kibum talking to another boy by their lockers. Even though Kibum is a year older, the school agreed to let Taemin have a locker next to his only childhood (infant-hood really) friend. Taemin knows Kibum isn’t like him; Kibum has many other friends, and he certainly loves talking. He’s the type of person that thrives off of being around others, while Taemin would rather listen to music or sit in silence. But people don’t understand Taemin the way Kibum does, and Kibum knows to give Taemin time alone. He doesn’t bring his other friends to Taemin or drag Taemin to see other people.

That’s why this new male confuses Taemin, as he hesitantly sifts through people towards his locker to put away his lesson books before his dance class. Maybe he’s new, he wonders, he hasn’t seen him before. SM Arts Academy isn’t exactly large, new students are obvious.

“Hey, Taemin, come here!” Kibum shouts over the hallway as he notices Taemin’s cautiously approaching figure. Taemin shuffles his feet slightly faster in response.

The other boy turns and follows Kibum’s eyes, and Taemin stiffens, heart racing, quashing the urge to look away, or worse run away, under his gaze. He takes the moment to examine him a bit better. He’s about the same height as Kibum, perhaps a bit taller, with roughly shoulder length, obviously dyed, honey brown hair and soft eyes. He’s clearly older than Taemin, yet his cheeks hold just the slightest bit of baby fat and his eyes hold a glint of child-like enthusiasm. At the same time, he’s clearly semi-athletic in some way if his slender, yet decently muscular frame is to be taken at face value. Taemin’s fingers twitch with some unknown desire to physically express Taemin’s thought, He’s handsome.

~

His name is Onew, well Lee Jinki really, but he goes by Onew. He’s transferring in, and he’s just sitting in on classes for the day before starting tomorrow, as Kibum briefly explained. He’ll be in the singing department, but the academy requires all students to take dance, so he’s watching their ballet class.

Taemin has never been nervous about dancing, about “speaking,” before.

He’s performing a solo in the gala in two weeks, though, so he has to rehearse. It’s self-choreographed, of course, because it’s difficult to use someone else’s words like your own. He  waits for the music to begin in the middle of the room with a slight twitch in his hands and feet. Kibum quirks an eyebrow at him, and he drops his gaze to admire the scuffed dance floor.

The music begins, and his head snaps up. His muscles tense and relax as his flows through the motions, mind solely focused on the beat and the flow of the music.

He’s been told that he’s made to dance. He’s always been a stick of a boy despite consuming more food than seems possible to fit in his tiny frame. He’s tall enough to not be short, but has never been awkwardly tall for his age or build. Puberty had recently broadened his shoulders slightly and gave him lean muscle, yet his lithe body still looks graceful, feminine even.

He hits the last pose, kneeling with his body prostrating itself to the heavens.

[Onew also notes that there’s something different in the way Taemin dances. His choreography isn’t composed of a sequence of movements designed to fit the music, but rather it’s the music that’s built around his choreography, amplifying the volume of his expression. Now Kibum’s words make sense, “You’ll get to watch my friend, Taemin. He’s a special kid, that one. Just... I really hope you can see his passion when he dances.”

Onew has the idea that it’s more than just passion.]

~

There’s a large, old tree in a secluded corner of the school courtyard that Taemin eats at every day. Sometimes he eats alone, sometimes with Kibum. Given that there wasn’t anyone sitting there as he walked over, he assumes he’s eating alone today. Resting against the tree, he pulls out his lunch of rice and leftover sides from last night, unwrapping them and taking a bite. He loses himself in his head for a moment, choreographing a new dance to a song he had found the night before. Getting lost in the thoughts, he jolts as another figure comes into view, or rather, the figure’s legs. Looking up slowly, he startles as Onew smiles down at him and asks very slowly, “Mind if I join you?”

His voice is like music. That’s the first thought that runs through his mind, and he stares for a moment. When the rest of his thoughts catch up, he blushes and nods, looking down at his food. He bites his lip, why would the new kid want to sit with him? He won’t reply, won’t make small talk (that’s what Kibum calls it when people talk about unimportant topics), won’t do anything but sit and try to disappear. Why did this fact suddenly bother him so much? His brow furrowed, not enjoying how this new kid was making him so nervous all the time.

The movement of Onew’s hands make him look up. There’s an intense look of concentration on his face, and his movements are a bit sloppy, but the meaning is still there. “Hi, I’m Onew,” spelled out by sign language.

He smiles before a small laugh escapes his lips. Onew’s eyes widen, clearly not realizing that Taemin did in fact have a voice. Figuring Onew doesn’t really know sign language, he points to his ears before making a circle with his index finger and thumb, hoping to get across the message that his hearing is just fine. Onew’s eyes widen and a bit of red dusts his cheeks. “Oh,” he laughs sheepishly, another musical sound, “Sorry, I guess I should’ve realized that, I mean, Kibum was speaking to you yesterday and all.” His mouth opens again, as though he was going to continue, but it snaps shut. Taemin’s waves his hand dismissively, a gesture he’s picked up from Kibum, before returning to his food. It’s not a big deal. This isn’t the first time this has happened, nor will it be the last.

Spooning some rice into his mouth, he can’t help but think that it’s cute that Onew learned that for him. Had he been... planning on seeing him again? His stomach flips at the thought, and not in a bad way. There’s silence for a couple of minutes, and he fidgets, suddenly uncomfortable in his world.

“Would you teach me?” Taemin looks up again mid chew, blinking in confusion. “Sign language, I mean. I know I don’t need to use it, but I can’t understand you without it.” His voice washes over Taemin’s ears, calming him. Who knew a voice could be so soothing?

He nods slowly, biting his lip to think of how to sign his response with generic gestures. Slowly, he goes through motions, indicating that he doesn’t say much. Onew follows his large motions attentively before giving him a smile that makes his eyes crinkle adorably. “That’s fine. I’m not very talkative either. Unless I’m nervous. Then I don’t shut up.” Laughing nervously, he closes his mouth quickly again and looks down. Taemin raises his hand to his hide his wide smile. He pulls out a piece of paper and quickly writes, “Today. Lesson 1.” Once Onew is looking up again, he makes the gestures, going through the motions slowly.

His stomach does that weird flipping thing again when Onew replies, eyes not even visible his smile is so wide, “Thank you, Taemin.”

~

Kibum is over that weekend, just the two of them. They’re sitting on Taemin’s bed, doing some homework. Kibum doesn’t like being home alone, and he’s always come over when his parents are out of town for business. It’s their routine, and Taemin enjoys it.

Stretching his neck, Kibum begins, “So I saw you the other day at lunch...” and Taemin looks up slowly, warily taking in the combination curious, concerned, and excited on his friend’s face. Without any prompting, he continues matter of factly, “You were sitting with Onew.”

Taemin nods, it’s the truth after all. He’s never seen the point in lying.

“I’m a bit surprised,” he says slowly, “But I’m glad it wasn’t unwanted.” It wasn’t quite a statement at the end; there was a bit of a question connected to the sentence.

He nods again, perhaps a bit too quickly and eagerly, because Kibum’s expression changes to resemble the one that he has when he’s “Key” and he’s hanging out with the likes of Nicole and Woohyun instead of Taemin. “So you... don’t mind him?”

He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant, but he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he knows Kibum can always catch him when he’s trying to hide something. “So... you like him a lot?” Kibum’s tone is calmer, as though he wasn’t exactly expecting his suspicion to be correct. He gives no response, just looks down and begins to doodle random lines on the page. Kibum’s hand lands on his shoulder and he looks up again. “You know that’s okay, right Minnie? I guess I just... didn’t expect it, considering you don’t like people very much.”

Although it stings a bit, he certainly can’t deny his lack of interest in other people. Eager to explain, his hands fly through a quick series of signs. “His voice is like music.”

Kibum’s eyes widen. “Well, what do you know,” he mutters before smiling widely and dragging Taemin into a huge hug, trapping him against his chest. He swears he can hear the older boy sniffle.

~

Their sign language lessons become a daily occurrence, and Taemin finds himself counting down the minutes and seconds to the end of class. Onew’s a fast learner, he finds, and learns what took Kibum months (possibly years, although Kibum denies it) in a matter of days and weeks. He tells Onew that he’s shocked he’s learning so quickly, and Onew’s cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink and he says that he practices a lot at home and looks up videos on Youtube for it. Taemin is stunned for a moment. Someone put that much effort into getting to know him? Why? He doesn’t ask Onew this though, figuring that if he’s anything like Kibum he’ll nudge him and tell him that he’s being stupid.

Kibum’s interfering is also becoming a daily occurrence. He’s constantly making casual hints here and there about a great movie he just saw that Onew and Taemin need to see, or a new restaurant they should check out. Taemin isn’t stupid; he understands the implications that they should check it out together... and without Kibum. But why would Kibum imply that Onew and Taemin should go on a date? It’s not like he likes Onew that way.

The answer hits him at about 4am when he jerks awake from a dream, not a nightmare like is usually the case, but a dream where Onew had pulled him close, leaned down, and met his lips in the tenderest of touches, like flower petals brushing his skin. It had escalated quickly from there, Onew had laid him down and worshipped him with light touches down his chest and sides that sent shivers down his spine until his hand had massaged the in his pants, pressing teasingly as he whispered, “You like that, Taeminnie? You’re so beautiful like this for me... I love you.”

He fingers had clawed at the bed, lips parted in a silent scream, tearing up as he searched for the words that seemed stuck in his throat. Onew’s face had fallen at the lack of response, and he jerked up to sit and reassure him- And then he had woken up.

Running his hands through his hair as he tried to stop them from trembling, he couldn’t help the twinge of annoyance that Kibum had figured it all out before he had.

~

Waiting for Onew to make a move turns out to be very difficult. Taemin has never been known for his patience, but this was testing it even more than usual. Onew is just shy, Kibum reassures almost every night on video chat, he’ll get it eventually. It’s unspoken that Taemin could make the first move, but every time he raises his hands to sign to the older boy that he would like to go to the movies with him his heart seems to jump painfully in his chest and he freezes, blinking and staring blankly at Onew’s (ridiculously attractive) face before letting his arms fall and slumping, picking at his food while Onew his head adorably in confusion. The poor guy must think he’s crazy.

They’re sitting under the tree as usual, when Onew coughs awkwardly and suddenly asks, “That dance gala is coming up right?”

Taemin nods slowly, looking up from his meal that he had been intently focusing on in favor of noticing that Onew’s jeans were very, very tight, especially in a particular region, especially when sitting down. He smiles at Taemin, and he can’t stop the smile from forming on his lips in return. Onew just has that effect. “You must be excited. You’re doing that dance I saw the first time I met you, right?”

He’s surprised Onew remembers that, happily surprised, of course, and he signs him thusly, trying to hide the splotches of red on his cheeks by looking to the side as though the tree bark is incredibly interesting. Onew just chuckles happily, “Of course I remember. It was great. Did I ever tell you you’re a great dancer?” He frowns, humming thoughtfully, “Although, truthfully ‘great’ doesn’t really cover it.”

Taemin doesn’t remember giving his heart permission to pound in his chest like this, and there’s a hint of fear that Onew, sitting only a foot or so away from him, might actually be able to hear it thundering away in his chest, traitorous organ that it is. He quickly thanks him, adding that he still has a lot of work to do. “So modest,” Onew chuckles in reply, “Well, you’ve seen me. I trip over myself on a regular basis, so you’re most definitely a million times better than me. It’s this Saturday, right?” Nodding, Taemin can’t help but wonder why Onew wants to know this. “OK!” he replies brightly, “I’m going to come watch.”

What? His eyes widen, unable to control the butterflies someone let loose in his stomach without him knowing. He really needs to keep better tabs on his body, he thinks. Even his aunt and uncle no longer attend these kinds of  events, only Kibum.

Onew falls silent for a moment though, glancing down a few times before straightening and blurting, “We should go for dinner afterwards.”

Taemin nods, signing that Kibum and he usually go to their favorite place for bulgolgi after, but Onew shakes his head, shaggy hair flying around, cheeks slightly red. “No, ah,” he begins slowly, “I was thinking this could be just the two of us and stuff.”

Oh. Oh.

He’s positive that he nods a bit too quickly and excitedly to seem casual, but they’re both smiling and blushing too much to really care about that at the moment. There are no more words for the rest of the meal, but they catch each other’s eyes a few too many times for it to be a coincidence, and Taemin feels whole for the first time in a while, though he hadn’t realized he had been incomplete. There’s choreography to this feeling, he knows, it’s dancing through his nerves and setting his muscles ablaze, and he figures he’ll just have to skip class to get it out of his system.

~

The gala is a success, of course. Taemin is positive that it was the best performance of his life, and he also knows why that’s the case. He had peered through the side of the curtains from the stage before the show like a child at their first recital to try and find Onew in the audience. He was there alright, sitting dead center with Kibum, flipping through the program and talking with his friend. Torn between passing out with nerves and grinning like a schoolgirl, Taemin chose the third option and dashed backstage to make sure his hair and makeup were just so.

As he steps out into the lobby from backstage, bracing himself for the noise, reminding himself that he needs to meet Onew in the lobby and not sneak out the back like he usually does, a flurry of limbs attack him, and Kibum swings him around like a ragdoll, blabbering in his ear about how amazing he is while he clings to the older boy for dear life and tries not to die. He can hear Onew’s tinkling laugh somewhere behind them. He would pout in his direction if he could get some sense of direction, after all, it’s rude to laugh when your date is being tortured in strange ways.

When he’s finally set down and the room is no longer spinning, he glances up to find Onew shuffling his feet a bit, holding a single rose gingerly with two fingers, ruby red in color and de-thorned, in offering. “You were amazing,” he breathes softly, but Taemin can hear him over the crowd, and it sounds almost like a prayer. Taemin plucks it from his fingers with a shy smile and brings it up to his nose to breathe in more of the wonderful aroma, and suddenly he can’t hear anything around him, and it’s just him and Onew in their own perfect world.

He’s not sure when Kibum slips out, but he finds himself alone with his date in an emptying auditorium fairly soon. When Taemin’s stomach growls loudly much to his deep embarrassment (he rarely eats before a performance), Onew merely laughs and guides him out the door, saying he has a reservation at a place. Taemin isn’t sure he gave the name, but he wouldn’t have noticed anyways, not when Onew’s hand is firmly placed at the small of his back and he can feel through the comforting pressure and warmth of his hand through the fabric of his thin sweater.

It’s not a perfect date. They have to wait for their table for twenty minutes while Onew apologized profusely about every ten seconds because they had gotten lost in the city they had lived in all their lives and were late for the reservation, Onew accidentally spits coke out of his mouth on the table when laughing at a joke Taemin makes, and Taemin nearly has a panic attack when he realizes what the meal will cost because of course he had inadvertently ordered the most expensive item on the menu. Onew just waves him off and pays for them both while Taemin watches with wide, horrified eyes, half wanting to pull his hair out at his own stupidity.

Taemin thinks they must look like an odd pair while Onew walks him back to the apartment, Onew speaking casually to him and Taemin signing back in return. It stings a bit when he realizes he can’t hold Onew’s hand because he has to talk, a sense of resentment, anger, and fear simultaneously filling him and weighing him down like there’s an anchor attached to his soul. Onew doesn’t seem to mind, though, so he tries to not let it bother him.

At the door to his apartment, they stand there for a little bit, Taemin awkwardly rocking on his feet while Onew fidgets with his hands and stutters, “I-I had a great time.”

He nods eagerly in return, half hoping Kibum is hiding somewhere in the bushes to force them to kiss each other. He’s too dizzy with nerves to take the lead on this one. “I’ll, ah, call you about doing something again?” Onew frowns for moment, “Shoot, I have a crazy week, but, ah, after should be fine.” Taemin nods again, not even remotely thinking about his schedule or if he’s free because how can he when he just went on a date and he could be seconds from his first kiss? There’s a pause, and Onew bites his lip, eyes clearly darting to Taemin’s before he seems to steel himself and takes Taemin’s hand, pausing his incessant movement, and slowly dipping his head, giving time for Taemin to back out of this. As if he would.

His eyes fall shut as their slightly parted lips meet the first time, soft and chaste like the petals he had imagined in his dream. Their noses bump for a moment, but Onew quickly adjusts and Taemin presses into the kiss, Onew’s breath warm against his mouth, and his lips plush and gentle as they simple meld together for what feels like both a moment and an eternity. When they part, Taemin raises his hand to his lips, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He doesn’t need to say it was his first kiss, his lost ity is practically stamped across his forehead. Onew presses a soft peck to his forehead and wraps his arms around his slight frame, and he curls into the embrace, burying his face in Onew’s neck as his own arms link around the elder’s waist. He decides Onew is perfect for hugging as well as kissing.

~

One date does, in fact, turn into many dates despite their busy schedules, and soon they’re an official, exclusive couple. People whisper, confused by the fact that the mute boy has a boyfriend. Onew simply hugs him when he finally stops being strong and cries, asking Onew why anyone would want to date someone who can’t speak. He tells Taemin that they’re idiots if they don’t look beyond the obvious, and peppers gentle kisses all over his face as he explains that Taemin talks all the time - with his eyes, expressions, the positioning of his lips, in every movement he makes, and most obviously when he signs.

Taemin is pretty sure that if he wasn’t already in love with Onew, then he most certainly would be now.

Kibum fake pukes and tells him that that’s the cutest he’s ever heard before asking him the names of the bullies so he can kick their asses.

There’s also a surprising amount of support, and it’s a huge shock the first time a girl walks up to his desk in the morning with an enormous smile and tells him in a high pitched shriek that he and Onew are, “just the most adorable couple ever,” and that she’s making them a fanclub. Taemin clenches his hands into fists under the desk and tries not to be physically distraught over the sound of her voice, and smiles weakly, nodding in thanks. When he tells Onew, eyes wide in horror, he gets a sympathetic wince and hug. Taemin figures it’s all worth the pain just to get a hug.

~

They’re sitting on Taemin’s bed doing homework when the question finally comes up. Taemin is blushing and picking at the sheets, trying to ignore that they’re in Taemin’s room and his teenage mind can think of many different and varied things he’d rather be doing in his bedroom on his bed. It hadn’t helped that his brother had made a show of announcing that he’d be checking up on them from time to time as Onew turned bright red and literally sputtered and Taemin figured that now would be a good time to get a shovel and start digging himself a grave so he could go die of embarrassment.

“Hey, Taemin?” Onew asks, and he rarely prefaces things with questions anymore, so Taemin looks up from his work, setting his pencil down. Onew is chewing on his lip and tapping his pen on the page nervously. Taemin waits. “Why exactly don’t you speak?” He asks slowly, shifting before quickly following the question with, “Not that I mind. Cause I really don’t. I think you’re perfect and I love you anyways.”

A hint of panic had welled in Taemin at the first words, but the last sentence suddenly burns itself into his memory, and all he can do is slowly sign, ‘You love me?’

Onew freezes, clearly not realizing he had said that and furrows his brow until he remembers. “Oh... Ah... Yeah, I, ah...” he mumbles.

‘I love you too,’ Taemin signs back shyly, smiling widely as he heart skips along happily, nerves twitching with the desire to express this feeling the only way he really knew how to. His entire body feels light and like he can just dance along through the clouds. He decides that he’ll just always have to love Onew because he never wants to stop feeling this way.

There’s a moment where they simply sit, staring at each other. He takes in all of Onew’s perfections and imperfections: the dimples, the gently sloped nose, the almond eyes, the plush lips, the acne scars, the slight bags under his eyes. He loves him. He simply really, truly loves him.

There’s the matter of the other question, though, and he knows Onew hasn’t forgotten, just as he hasn’t. A sigh wells up in his chest unbidden and he exhales deeply, deciding that if anyone deserves to know the story, it’s definitely Onew. It’s not a terribly long story, but it’s been engrained in his memories and fears and nightmares.

He begins slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Onew as a way to ground him and keep him from completely fraying at the seams. He tells him about the car ride he had told his family he had forgotten. How his mom and dad were singing children songs with him and laughing and how it was the best night of his life. How the pain and noise came out of nowhere, crunching into the side of their car as he screamed and screamed and screamed. How before he passed out he saw his dad slumped against the wheel, body twisted at a weird angle, as his mom tried to calm his screaming despite her bleeding skull and crushed right half of her body. How he couldn’t scream loud enough for the help to come faster. How he didn’t remember the ambulance coming and taking him to the hospital. How he woke up to his aunt, uncle, and brother surrounding him, faces pale, and he just knew. How he wanted to scream, he wanted to open his mouth and scream as loud as he could. How he couldn’t make a sound. How it was as though everything had left him during that one, final scream as he laid in the wreckage of the accident. How he could make small sounds now, but anything more seemed to elude him.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Onew wipes away the tears streaking his cheeks and clumping in his bottom lashes. He goes limp, listening to Onew’s nonsensical coos and babbles as he chokes on his sobs, finally acknowledging everything that had always been there, curled up in the fold of his brain, slowly gnawing at this mind. As though struck by lightning, he suddenly jolts forward, throwing himself into Onew’s arms, pressing against him as though he wants to mold their bodies together and never part.

It’s only when wetness hits his head does he realize Onew is crying.

He squeezes his arms around Onew a little tighter.

~

Somehow time grew legs, stood up, and walked away because it was now a full year from when Taemin had first met Onew and he’s not sure how that actually happened. It’s certainly not a complaint on his end, it’s been the best year of his life, of that much he’s sure.

It also means Onew is graduating.

He’s positive that no one else looks as handsome in their cap and gown, and he tells Kibum this who laughs and coos that he’ll be the perfect wife for his handsome hubby.

He smacks Kibum on the arm and pouts for the duration of the ceremony, except, of course, when Onew walks on stage for his diploma. He blushes and hides a smile behind his hand when his boyfriend trips on the stairs up, laughing it off as he shakes hands with the Headmaster.

He’s drooping on Kibum by the end of the ceremony, fiddling with his phone as someone who is supposedly important blabs about something Taemin doesn’t really care about. When the final applause begins; however, he perks up, almost jumping out of his seat to hug Onew right then. The sea of people in front of him that keeps him from his boyfriend seems endless and is a bit intimidating, but Onew has helped him feel better about crowds and noise and people, supporting him and holding his hand (sometimes literally) through every step of the process. He can easily squash the flip in his stomach and wade through the crying families and many camera flashes.

Hugging Onew never fails to feel like home, and he can’t seem to hug him enough today. There’s happiness, pride, fear, sadness, and most of all love, and it keeps him clinging to the now only slightly larger boy. Kibum doesn’t rest until there’s pictures of all of them together, of Taemin and Onew, of Taemin and Onew kissing, of Taemin and Onew making silly faces, and, after pulling a reluctant Taemin away, of Onew, proudly beaming with his diploma.

Taemin, to his chagrin, feels like a woman when he realizes the prickling in his eye means that he wants to cry.

He doesn’t have a present with him. He hands Onew a flower, of course, a single red rose like the one Onew had given him at the dance gala for their first date. But that’s not really a present. Surely not when you’ve dated someone for a full year and more. Kibum had nagged at him the entire way to the ceremony about it, sighing about how he hadn’t raised him properly and bemoaned his terrible manners. Taemin had ignored him. He wasn’t going to tell Kibum.

Snagging Onew’s hand in his own, he drags him to the courtyard, away from the crowds of people. It’s quiet, a weird occurrence for a dining area, as they walk to their tree. Taemin pauses, facing Onew and lacing the fingers of his other hand through Onew’s. A sense of comfort, of being grounded, washes over him, and he basks in it for a moment before his stomach begins doing somersaults again. Looking up into Onew’s inquisitive and gentle eyes, Taemin grips tightly and parts his lips, in a huge gulp of air.

“I love you, Onew.”

It’s barely a whisper, unpracticed and rusty with disuse, but it must have carried in the wind because Onew’s eyes open wider than Taemin has ever seen, and he’s being crushed in a hug, lips mashed against Onew’s desperately, before he knows what is happening. He pulls away slowly, looping his arms around his neck, flushed and grinning like a fool. “I love you,” he whispers again.

“I love you too,” Onew replies frantically, pressing hot kisses all over his face, “I love you so, so much, Tae.”

His legs give out from nerves, and Taemin sinks down to the ground, dragging Onew with him, trembling with excitement. After a moment, Onew speaks, “So this tree, huh?”

Taemin nods, pretty sure his voice can’t handle being stressed right now. He knows what Onew means.

“I guess I’ll just have to bring you back here to propose to you, huh?”

Taemin is positive he’s never literally jumped on Onew to kiss him. Leaning over his laughing boyfriend, who is laying on the floor dirtying his graduation robe, he’s not sure why he’s never tried it before.

---------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: I never know how to end things ;~;

Comment away please~ :)