His black dream slowly dissipated.

His eyes roamed around the darkness behind his eyelids, slowly realizing he was waking up.

There was a soft touch on his face, a finger slowly pulling down his nose, a thumb running over his bottom lip . . .

A light and airy chuckle passed through someone else’s lips, breathing on his chin before lightly kissing him.

By then, Minho knew it was morning.

He tried not to smile or respond amongst Taemin’s lips as he kissed him. He wanted Taemin to keep observing him; to see what he’ll do as if he’s never seen Minho’s face before.

Taemin’s lips retracted, his hand slowly pulling down to Minho’s shoulder as he nuzzled his head beneath Minho’s chin and breathed against him.

  “I love you,” Taemin whispered.

Minho slowly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting with the gray walls of the tent. He smiled on top of Taemin’s bed-head hair, eyes turning to slits with the joy he was feeling. There was so much he wanted to say; so much he wanted to just outright confess out loud.

This . . . this was convincing him that he was human.

  “I love you too,” Minho’s deep voice answered, startling the younger. His arms worked their way around Taemin, pulling their bare bodies closer under the (at least three) blankets. He could feel Taemin’s body heating in embarrassment that he was caught.

  “You’re awake . . .” Taemin stuttered, sounding thoroughly shocked.

Minho hummed, closing his eyes again and nuzzling his nose into the younger’s hair, kissing the top of his head.

Taemin’s hand on his shoulder placed itself on the small of his back, squishing them together with a contented sigh, “I never knew Namwon was so cold in the morning.”

On instinct, Minho’s leg pulled over Taemin’s and curled, bringing his lower half closer to his own body heat, “Cut the crap and just tell me you want to cuddle.”

  “Ugh,” Taemin sighed, burying his face deep into Minho’s chest, “Cuddle is such a . . . girly word.”

  “But you want it,” Minho teased, pressing his hands to Taemin’s back.

Minho knew Taemin always hated the word cuddle. He’d always substitute it for ‘hugging’ or ‘man-loving’. Neither of those words sounded any manlier.

Taemin nodded, not giving into the argument that could be opened, “It’s too early and I’m too happy to argue about it. Yes, I want to . . . cuddle.”

Minho playfully scoffed, holding him closely.

Time slowly passed as they laid there, unmoving for the most part, enjoying each others’ company.

Taemin’s hand slowly traveled up Minho’s back, causing the elder to shiver and squeeze him tightly.

Taemin chuckled, continuing the path of his hand, suddenly cutting short.

Minho could feel his rigidness and he knew exactly why.

Taemin backed away from Minho’s chest, staring into his eyes with some sort of sadness.

  “Tae—”

  “Sh,” he simply put. Carefully, he navigated himself behind Minho—stopping the elder from turning with a hand on his shoulder—and laid there, looking at the markings on his back.

Minho continued to stare forward into the tent wall, hopefully unable to burn a hole through it.

He could feel Taemin’s fingers against the areas that distracted him from the cuddling. He internally winced—not from pain, just the thought that Taemin still knew about the marks.

  “Do you really . . .” Taemin traveled off, “Do you really not remember what happened?”

His fingers traced the six-inch red lines down both his shoulder blades.

  “No,” Minho lied, “I can’t remember.”

It was a complete lie; lying was a must.

Those lines weren’t ‘possible injuries that Minho got when he was little’ like he’d said. Those lines weren’t knife marks, they were an asset.

Minho’s true form had wings—and where the wings could grow out were marked as puffy red lines on his back. He cursed that the human form couldn’t cover them and had to lie to Taemin further, but there was nothing he could do. He was born with wings; even if he tried burning them away, they’d grow back in an instant (this he did know from experience and it wasn’t ever going through that again).

  “It must’ve been so painful,” Taemin whispered, fingers becoming gentler against the lines, “So traumatic that you can’t remember . . .”

Quickly, Minho pulled a hand behind him, catching one of Taemin’s wrists and looking back at him, seeing the forlorn covering his face, “Don’t think about that now, alright?”

Taemin’s eyes flickered to him for a second, his other arm that had him propped up still had its hand tracing over his right wing-line, “Yeah, it’s just—”

  “You didn’t know me then,” Minho sympathized, pulling his brows together, “You couldn’t do anything.”

Taemin nodded, stopping his tracing—

—And his eyes caught on to something else; given to his overly-shocked expression and quiet gasp.

Oh , they aren’t coming out, are they?

  “O-oh—ah . . .” Taemin nervously trailed off, pursing his lips and grabbing on to a pillow to cover his face.

Minho, bewildered, turned to try and look at his back the best he could, “W-What?”

Taemin shook his hand off his wrist and held the pillow firmly to his face, curling up into a ball under the blankets.

  “Taemin, what?” Minho repeated, hands now feeling over his back. He didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary—but there was this light . . . sting.

  “I—I . . .” Taemin muffled his voice with the pillow.

Minho’s head couldn’t even process the possible things Taemin could’ve seen. He turned himself and forcefully snatched the pillow away, revealing Taemin’s face dressed in deep rouge.

What could it have been? Why would Taemin even be embarrassed?

  “Hey,” Minho grabbed his wrists, trying to uncurl him, “Why are you flustered?”

The younger tried hiding his face, making Minho laugh at his charming shyness. The two almost wrestled to just get Taemin to settle down and get a look at him.

Minho pinned Taemin’s wrists to the flooring and hovered overtop of him, the blankets falling off, causing Taemin’s rouge to deepen.

  “What?” Minho laughed out in amusement, “What did you see?”

The younger looked in every direction over Minho’s face, pretending like he wasn’t even there, “I—uh—Uh . . . Get off me, Minho!”

  “Tell me what you saw!”

  “I—” Taemin closed his eyes and huffed out a shuttering breath, “I didn’t expect to leave . . . marks.”

Minho’s eyes widened, “Marks?”

  “Doesn’t it . . . sting?”

Minho stared at a second before taking full comprehension, “You left . . . You . . .”

He burst out laughing, letting go of Taemin’s wrists.

The younger’s face twisted in horror and smacked Minho’s chest, “It’s not funny! What if someone ever sees or something?! I ing left cat marks on you!”

  “You,” Minho deadpanned on him, still chuckling away. He was on cloud nine with the way Taemin was concerned if he was hurt or not, but it was still completely amusing, “You . . .

  “You were marking your territory, Taemin,” he snickered.

  “Minho!” he shouted, smacking his chest again, “Just—that’s it, get off me!”

Taemin shoved at him repeatedly, swearing that if Minho didn’t move, he’d purposely claw his eyes out instead. It was like his hair was ready to strip of its blond nature and turn red.

  “Calm down,” Minho teased, blocking every hand smack and grasping Taemin to his body, “Stop it!” he rolled them around childishly until Taemin couldn’t help but to laugh and beg for him to stop.

He rolled Taemin on top of him, laying them chest to chest, face to face. He gave Taemin a quick peck and a small smile.

There wasn’t anything less perfect than now. Now, where his boyfriend was on top of him so innocently (and so bare, might he add) with his perfect, flawless features exposed to him.

The young one stared at Minho’s lips, his own before pressing them together.

Currents sped through Minho’s blood at such a simple kiss; but that wouldn’t ever make it any less exciting. His right hand twisted in Taemin’s hair as his left arm draped over his back and pressed them closer.

 . . . It was an hour later did they decide to finally act like the world was spinning again and finally got dressed.

Minho zipped up the entrance to the tent. He wore the clothes he had on yesterday, and so was Taemin. But they needed to decently bathe before having to put on fresh clothes.

Taemin had grabbed all of the clothing that they were going to change into, putting it into a gym bag, along with everything else needed.

  “Do you remember where the pond is, Hyung?” Taemin asked, stuffing a comb inside the bag before zipping it up and standing.

Minho turned around, smiling as he nodded, “Wouldn’t forget.”

I was born there.

Taemin outstretched his hand, his eyes turning to cute crescents as he signaled for Minho to take it.

With the angle of light on Taemin’s face, the natural pose he was in, the absolutely positive face he had, it blinded Minho and kept his heart beating.

There was no possible way his heart would stop running as long as Taemin was there.

He took his hand rushedly, leading them to the left of the camp site and slowly down the slope of the part of the mountain they were on.

They looked around them, watching the birds fly by, the rabbits hop into bushes, lizards skittering around. It was even more peaceful out here than it was in the quiet town of Namwon.

As Taemin looked up at the sky, almost hidden from treetops, Minho took the time to look at him again. The smooth, clear, flawless face he adored . . .

  “Come on, up ahead,” Minho whispered with a peck on the amused one’s cheek, pulling him faster.

  “Oh?” he simply said, trying to keep up with Minho’s pace, “Why so eager?”

Minho scoffed, “I’m not eager.”

 Minho sensed Taemin was running out of air and backed his lips away, hoisting Taemin up in his arms so he still had his grip on him.

Taemin’s wet hair stuck to his face, a few loose strands sticking on to Minho’s cheek as he leaned forward again.

  “Breathe,” Minho breathlessly chuckled, kissing his neck.

Taemin moaned in his throat, “Who needs to breathe these days when you’ve got someone who you want to take air away from you?” With that he grabbed on to Minho’s hair and settled his face in his neck, too, his mouth opening and taking a gentle .

  “I—I said breathe, not ,” Minho weakly protested, hoisting him up again.

Taemin chuckled against his neck, kissing his skin in apology.

  “Better,” Minho whispered, slowly putting Taemin down to the ground, “How did we even end up like this? I was washing my hair for goodness sake.”

Taemin smiled as he bent backwards to dip his hair in the clear water, seemingly none of the dye coming out, “I . . . couldn’t help it, ya’ know?”

  “You couldn’t help it,” Minho laughed, beads of water rolling off his body as a result, “You sound like a teenager.”

  “I’m only twenty, you . I’m not old,” Taemin laughed, treading away from him, trying to get out of the slightly deep end to grab a towel, “We’re still young and we’ve only done it once.”

Minho followed after him in astonishment, “Who in the world are you? The Taemin I knew was forever innocent!”

Taemin’s lower body was revealed as he stepped out of the pond, quickly opening the bag and throwing a towel to the staring Minho, “Says the guy who’s staring at me without a decent thought!”

Minho grabbed the towel, roughly drying off his hair and his body before settling the towel around his waist as he stepped out. Taemin had the towel in the same place as he was digging through the bag for his clothes.

Minho looked around the pond, a bittersweet smile decorating his face.

He was born here, he was sure of it. Every time he’d been here, there was this strange force that just pulled him in and he could literally hear shrill cries of a baby voice and a woman saying ‘His name is Minho. His name is Choi Minho, got it?’.

But why did his parents leave? He bet he never even got to look at his parents or else he’d at least remember the color of their hair.

All Minho was left with was a few things like a note—no, it wasn’t just a note. It was as large as an encyclopedia—, a few maps and some stories as he was born to live with a man in Namwon; and this man early in his thirties was named Choi Seunghyun. It was a coincidence his last name was the same; but he wasn’t a biological part of his parents’ family. He was human.

But Seunghyun never said anything about Minho’s parents or any pasts that included him and ‘monsters’.  He left it to all the maps, stories, and that huge encyclopedia.

Seunghyun never called them monsters, but special beings (really, that just made it worse). He was the one that helped explain the ‘note’ to Minho about who he was and how he had to keep himself a secret from the world.

But, since Minho lived among humans only, he grew up to feel more human than monstrous.

Minho shook his head, turning back to Taemin and pausing.

His pale faced Minho, and he eyed it down.

Since when has he felt so comfortable staring at Taemin with barely anything on? Before last night he always blushed and looked away to give him privacy.

It was like that went flying through the window and just buried itself into the ground without giving a damn.

He grasped on to Taemin’s hips, feeling the younger jump before he pressed his lips to his left shoulder blade; his texture so smooth, of course like always, how many times did he have to say it?

  “Hyung?” Taemin asked, his head turning.

Minho looked up, softly smiling and kissing Taemin’s cheek, “You’re irresistible, you know that?”

The younger one shook his head in denial, going back to picking up his clothes.

  “Really,” Minho told him seriously, surrounding him with his arms, “There’s nothing I want more.”

  “Jeez, Hyung, stop being so cheesy,” Taemin laughed, “You make me feel like I’m supposed to be a girl. Like, stop. It’s emasculating big time.”

The elder scoffed in offense, letting him go and snatching the clothes Taemin held out for him to take, “Well fine. You don’t get to watch me change.”

  “Oh, so heartbreaking!”

They had enough of being quite suggestive for the entire day even though it was barely grazing the time of noon.

They thought it’d be best to leave all kinds of things like that for the dark rather than the day.

By now, they were taking a simple stroll through the woods on the mountain after eating, the two of them holding hands as they adventured through the wild land.

Taemin was overly fascinated, cooing at everything he saw and heard. Minho would repeatedly chuckle because he couldn’t even let words form upon his lips; they were stuck in his throat.

  “Minho, do you even know the way back?” Taemin asked, tone full of worry as he looked at him, his face matching his voice.

Minho smiled and nodded, giving their held hands a shake, “I’m not going to let us get lost, don’t worry.”

Taemin returned smiling and let his eyes wander around the area again, “I’m not worried. I was only wondering. I wouldn’t mind being ‘lost’ here, though. We don’t even have a reason to return to Namwon.”

We have every reason to go back to Namwon.

Minho knew no monster ever entered the town, but he doesn’t know anything about out here. That’s why it took Minho so long to say yes to Taemin’s request to come out here for a week; he had to prepare for the worst just incase.

  “We wouldn’t last more than a week out here if we didn’t have our stuff,” Minho chuckled, squeezing Taemin’s hand as he tried to get him to think logically.

The younger shrugged, Minho not quite sure what he was thinking, “Maybe.”

And so, they walked on, Minho finally getting a turn to speak about almost anything just to distract Taemin; more like distracting himself from just stopping them and just . . .

Minho shook his head, blushing at the thought.

No dirty thoughts, you promised.

They ended up stopping a good half mile away from the camping site and sitting on top of a wide boulder while gazing across the free land unclaimed by human.

Taemin had his chin between his knees that were pulled up as Minho crossed his legs.

  “So pretty,” Taemin sighed, his eyes touring left and right, some points moving to the clear blue sky.

Minho took a moment to stare at Taemin, another smile coming across his lips and steadily taking Taemin’s hand.

He said nothing, though. Taemin had to know by now what he would’ve said; the most cliché thing ever. Just the look that passed through each other was knowingly.

Taemin quietly laughed, his thumb rubbing over the roughish skin of Minho’s hand as a response.

Minho looked back to the scenery; the far distance so incredible. Never had he thought something from so far could be beautiful, but it truly was. He could see the separation between treetops, the shape of the mountain’s peak, the slight misty fog that covered the outline of it, the mountains far back . . .

Maybe living in the wild wouldn’t be so bad either.

There was a heavy pressure on Minho’s shoulder and his head turned to the source.

Minho’s brows lifted in adoration as Taemin’s head settled in the spot, his eyes trying not to close and take a small rest. His eyes fluttered repeatedly, a promise inside that told him he could stay awake.

It wasn’t long before Minho patted his shoulder to get Taemin’s attention. The younger looked up at his face in question before Minho guided his head to fall on his lap, helping him stretch out against the wide boulder.

  “I don’t want to sleep,” Taemin mumbled, settling himself.

The elder ran a hand through Taemin’s blond hair, examining the silk texture, ignoring his weak protest when he knew that he was just lying to himself.

Minho’s hands pulled all of Taemin’s hair to one side, the hair falling in odd angles, but he knew Taemin liked it after feeling a vibration from his throat on Minho’s leg.

How could someone so mature be so cute and so . . . immature at the same time? While growing up, Taemin was the only one like this that he knew. Were other humans in the world like this?

His hand ran down the length of Taemin’s arm, slowly lacing his fingers with Taemin’s, kissing his cheek before looking at the distant mountains, “Did you really fall asleep so quickly?” he whispered.

When he gained no response, he rolled his eyes.

Minho blinked, scanning the scene.

Then suddenly, crude thoughts rushed through his mind and filled his ears.

If Taemin knew, he’d hate Minho.

If Taemin knew, he’d be scared.

If Taemin knew, he’d run from Minho.

If Taemin knew . . .

Taemin wouldn’t love Minho.

Mentally, Minho started panicking.

He couldn’t stand lying to Taemin, but it was for his own good. He really couldn’t let him know and Taemin had to understand in an oblivious way.

  “I want to tell you,” Minho confessed aloud, shaking his head at his disobedience, “I want to let you in so badly, but I can’t. If you ever figure out one day, let me explain, alright?”

No answer was offered.

He couldn’t let Taemin leave him. He wouldn’t let Taemin leave him, even if that meant strapping him to a chair and telling him everything—

Whoa.

Minho shook his head, eyes wide in panic.

Where did these thoughts come from? He never thought like that before.

He immediately grew insecure; he knew instantly that something was playing with him.

He put up barriers around his thoughts as they grew dark.

His natural instinct to growl was building up in his chest—but no! He couldn’t let it out! Taemin . . .

Taemin . . .

There was a shift in a bush far behind him, and Minho’s head sharply turned to the source. He scanned over and over—

It was the same feeling from last night.

The feeling of being so blind.

  “Whoever you are,” Minho growled lowly, not enough to wake up Taemin, “Leave us alone. We’ll be gone in six days and your territory will be to yourself again. Got it?”

Minho scanned his eyes around, but found nothing moving.

Suddenly, there was a snicker, followed by bushes moving and something inside madly dashing away.

Minho’s stomach dropped.

There really was something out there and it was definitely not an average animal, nor did it seem to understand.

No, they couldn’t stay here for the rest of the week.

No, they had to get out. Now.

  “Tae,” Minho ordered, shaking the boy urgently, “C’mon, Tae, wake up.”

Taemin groaned, rolling a bit to ignore him.

  “Taemin, just get up a little,” Minho plead.

Taemin grumbled incoherently, slowly following Minho’s worried voice’s order. Minho immediately slid off the boulder and grabbed Taemin, wrapping his legs around his waist and hoisting him up before starting to head back to the camp ground.

  “Minho . . .” Taemin sighed.

  “Go back to sleep,” Minho kept his tone as casual as possible, “Go to sleep.”

It wasn’t long before Minho sensed Taemin drifted off so unrealistically.

  “Are you awake?”

Nothing.

  “Good,” he said to no one.

His mind paid close attention to his legs and feet, thinking hard about what he wanted them to do. There was an internal snapping noise and a shutter of his legs before he knew his lower half had gained the ability of his true form.

He took a deep breath before letting his legs shift into action, easily picking up a high speed to get out of the area quickly.

The trees and the path blurred before his eyes, but he could still see where he was going perfectly clear; he still remembered where to go.

He took longer strides and quickened his pace, twigs snapping beneath him and dirt kicking up.

There was no presence of a follower and that deepened Minho’s troubles. If he didn’t know the thing was following him, he’ll have a harder time trying to track down where it’s going to come from.

He was on high alert.

From a far view, he saw the familiar gray shape in the midst of a clearing and Minho’s pace came to a swift halt, feeling his lower half snap back into human ability.

  “Okay, Taemin, wake up again,” Minho rushed, setting the younger on his wobbly feet and shaking him, “Taemin you need to wake up.”

  “What?” Taemin snapped, opening his eyes half way and slowly blinking as he looked around, “When the heck . . .?”

  “You were out for a while,” Minho lied pushing him towards the tent, “Start packing up, please.”

Taemin stopped short and looked at Minho like he was crazy, “Pack up? What are you talking about?”

  “Please,” Minho pleaded, “Later. All of this later.  Just come on,” he forcefully lifted the zipper up, revealing the mess inside the tent and grabbing the nearest bag inside, “Fill it; not neatly, whatever you can stuff in. I’ll carry the rest, it’s fine.”

Taemin stumbled inside the tent, “Minho, what’s—”

  “Later!” Minho emphasized, taking his eyes off of Taemin and standing in front of the tent entrance, his eyes darting towards every corner.

Something had to have let its guard down—he could clearly hear it.

He felt Taemin’s foot as the younger jumped after hearing a violent shake from the bushes to Minho’s left, and Minho’s head sharply whipped to the direction, meeting an unfamiliar human face.

  “Well, hello there. Welcome to my territory.”

----Note~----

Evening. c:

It's Saturday, so here's your update!

I haven't written all week, and I feel so... neglective towards this fic. It was my spring break this past week, and for once, I wanted to go outside. .___.

So. Here's where problems start. Noooooooooo.

It seems 2Min is kind of really 'romantic' and 'teenager'-ish right now, like in a lot of fics. But you'll see. You'll see. >D

Does anyone want to make a guess who our next star is? I've said absolutely nothing about him, and he isn't in SHINee, so there is a huge range of idols. :P

This was roughly edited.

Okay. Really no note for this one. I'm a little tired and whatnot. xD

Thank you to the increasing amount of views, subs, yada yada. They're everything. <3

See you next Saturday. c:

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