"Kibum, the food will get cold, if you keep looking out the window," Dr. Song warned.

"Kibum?"

Dr. Song's gentle touch on his shoulder brought Taemin back to earth. It had been weeks since he became "Kim Kibum." Still, he couldn’t get used to that name.

"You look pale. Are you in pain again?" The doctor asked.

"No, my leg is fine. I'm just a little tired." Taemin replied. Lately, he couldn’t sleep. Yet it was not the pain that kept him awake. It was Minho's incomprehensible behavior that made him ponder. He thought he had seen Minho's gentleness for a moment. However, it seemed he was wrong. Minho's concern, even if it lasted briefly, was perhaps just Taemin's imagination. Since Taemin's injury, Minho was barely home. He went to work when Taemin was still asleep and came home when Taemin already went to bed. Even the weekend was no exception.

"How did you sleep recently? I can give you something to fall asleep." Dr. Song suggested.

"No, thank you." Dr. Song has been taking care of him since the accident at Minho's request. She was a nice person with great humor. Taemin liked spending time with her. But she wasn’t Minho. Taemin noticed how Minho was avoiding him. He just didn’t understand why the older boy would do that.

Minho had been looking blankly at the statistics on his monitor for almost half an hour. Lately, his concentration declined sharply, and he worked just half as productive as usual, though he stayed in the office much longer. The dream last week was still bothering him. Such a dream ... about a man ... that scared him. Taemin scared him. Since then he tried his best to avoid the younger man. Out of sight, out of mind, right? But it didn’t seem to work. The more distraction Minho tried to get, the more often Taemin appears on his mind.

And so, the phone call Minho got a few minutes ago only exacerbates the unpleasant pressure in Minho's lungs, making it difficult for him to breathe. Dr. Song called to tell him that she must leave earlier today. That wouldn’t bother him if it didn’t mean he had to take care of Taemin for the rest of the day.

Reluctantly Minho drove home right after work. As soon as he opened the front door, he noticed the delicious scent of freshly cooked food. This gave Minho an unusual and indescribable feeling. Not that he never ate self-cooked foods, but the foods were never cooked in this house. The expensive kitchen, which had hardly any blemish, wasn’t in perfect condition, because it was treated with care, but because it was never used. This kitchen - even if it was fully functional - was nothing more than a showcase piece, like those samples at IKEA. That was ... until today.

"Welcome home, I hope you are hungry," Taemin greeted with a smile.

"What's this?"

"Usually you don’t get to come home so early, so I thought I'd cook something for us."

Minho looked at the food. One glance and he could tell how much efforts Taemin had put into this. Even the table was set.

“You prepared this?”

"I know I can’t compare myself with your personal chef, but I thought you might like some home-made foods. What I mean is that the cooking of a five-star chef might make you feel like you’re dinging out every day ... So maybe you want a change? "

Minho didn’t even try hard to notice Taemin's awkwardness. He could close his eyes and miss all the hand gestures that Taemin was making, the older boy could still tell how nervous the younger one was. Spreading and recognizing fear was his daily business after all.

"Why were you cooking instead of resting?"

"Dr. Song said a bit of exercise would be good. And it didn’t take long to cook anyway." Taemin answered.

"Oh," Taemin replied, mouth wide open as something came to his mind. "Did you eat already?"

Taemin said, lowering his head. Minho tried not to laugh. The younger was wearing the same expression of disappointment as a child who got to go to the supermarket but couldn’t get any sweets. Minho's eyes moved to Taemin's injured leg. Then, he pulled the chair off the table like a gentleman on the first date.

"Sit down. Let’s eat," said Minho and a broad smile appeared on Taemin's face.

How could he refuse the food that an injured person prepared for him? In addition, Taemin was hurt because of him.

Taemin tensed, waiting for Minho’s reaction as the older one tried the first bite.

"Do you like it?"

Minho was unaware of how to an