A/N: idk why this chapter keeps rating itself as 'M'. There is no 'M' I tell you! NO 'M'!!!!

He sat on his bed, looking out of the window. The curtains had been bunched up into messy knots, two crows sat on the electricity post outside, bickering and clacking their beaks together.

His hair was a mess, but so was his room. Minho remembered tidying it up yesterday before the lecture. When he’d arrived a few minutes ago Kim eomoni had mentioned Kibum was upset, and now here was proof. As if to reinforce the fact, low melancholy music drifted out from the study table, the singing tender, the guitar notes gloomy. A small box of Polaroid photos sat between the boy’s legs, slender fingers playing with sharp edges. From the distance, Minho recognized the blur of his own clothes in some of them.

He held Kibum’s completed homework out to his side. “I come offering truce,” he said as softly as he could, but his voice spilled out with a little sound of phlegm. He cringed and then cleared his throat. Kibum had already heard.

He turned his head and studied Minho with those deep jet black eyes of his, weighing the air around him, inwardly arbitrating on the appropriate words for the situation. It was a rare look on that face: Kibum always said whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. The last time Minho had seen that pensive look was when the other asked him out, leaning against the lone acacia tree in the football ground, playing with an unsure grin, stamping out a cigarette with his foot.

It wasn’t a very nice look on Kibum. It didn’t suit him.

When everything was unmoving for too long, Minho nervously bit his lip expecting to be asked to leave. But then Kibum moved his box of photographs and wordlessly patted the mattress between his legs, motioning for him to come sit there. He smiled a little as he picked his way through the mess and moved forward, crouching and crawling on the creaking bed, propping his back against the other’s strong chest, carefully slipping himself into the other’s waiting hold, and finally closing his eyes with a sigh.

“You didn’t come to school today. I got worried.”

“Hmm.” The fingers of their right hands locked together, fumbling at first, then smoothly slipping into each other like plugs and sockets. Little things like holding hands and sharing smiles were never a natural thing between them, because they never got to do it out in the open, never got to express themselves freely to each other for fear of the judging eyes of the world. But here, like this, in the quiet of the afternoon and curled in each other’s arms, everything was allowed. Everything could be said out loud.

Minho looked at the connection thoughtfully, the other’s thumb with his own, then abruptly let out a gasp. “You painted your nails!”

“Yesterday…”

“I never noticed,” Minho whined his disappointment with himself, clicking his tongue. His own nail tried to pull at the polish, tried to chip off its intentionally cracked surface. He frowned after a while. “But… why black?”

“Do I have to explain it to you again?” Kibum sighed tiredly, and then pulled the circle of his arm tighter, shifting their bodies to a much more comfortable position. Like he was about to commence story-time. He didn’t have to say it, Minho naturally felt the words about to arrive in the way the chest behind him moved faster, a little more excitedly than usual. “The whole symbolism of chaos lies in the color bl—”

“No, I meant…” he was interrupted. “I meant green suits you better. Why didn’t you use green instead of black?”

“Green for envy?”

Minho shook his head, eyes never straying from shapely nails, their tops perfectly rounded, their cuticles exactly matching arcs. Amusement pulled at the corner of his lips for what he was about to say. “Green for lively.”

Kibum almost reflexively sunk his nose into his hair, slowly breathing in and breathing out, soaking in the scent of shampoo and football practice and air pollution. He breathed and kept breathing, trying to take in as much of Minho as he could through the air; trying to take all of Minho in through the air. His exhales hit the boy on the curve of his neck, fanning the last dregs of his remaining anxiety. “Green for evil…”

He hooked his arm on the back of Kibum’s neck. Their cheeks touched as they cuddled closer, and he hummed lowly with contentment. “Green for hope.”

Silence prevailed then. The second hand of the wall clock thudded. Pages of an open notebook crackled under the spin of the ceiling fan. Even the iPod on the table had reached the end of its solemn playlist. Downstairs everything seemed to have stilled to a stop, like time only ran for the two boys looking out of their window and no one else. Silence prevailed for what was probably a hundred thousand years before Minho suddenly turned his head back. “Bum, I’m sorr—”

His words were swallowed by the press of their lips together, a warm hand on his cheek, a soft strand of messy hair under his eye. 

As he folded blankets and made separate piles of the other's washed and unwashed clothes ("Have you ever heard of the concept of laundry, Bum?" "...no.") he bit his lip in concentration, thinking of ways to disclose yesterday's backstage events to his boyfriend. Should I tell him...? he pondered quietly, hands working and moving with a mind of their own. How much should I tell him...

Suddenly, breaking his reverie, Kibum walked up behind him and slipped a cold bar of chocolate into the back of his shirt.

"Ack!" he let out a shocked gasp as the other sniggered and plopped onto his bed, biting into his own treat and bouncing excitedly at the sight before him. "Buuuuum, get it ouuuuut~!" he whined and wriggled around, trying to shake the candy out of his clothes, probably putting on quite the entertaining show for the other, who simply hummed and shook his head like a five-year-old. "Buuuuum~!" he complained to no response.

When the chocolate finally made it out and fell to the floor, Minho picked it up and almost pocketed it before a glare was directed at him. "Eat it now." 

He tutted, made a show of complying, unwrapped the thing and slowly took a bite. Really, he was just buying himself more time. More time between the happy smiles now and the possible yelling that was to come in the next few minutes. He was buying time by turning the words over inside his chewing mouth, thinking of the best way to put the news out there.

"Listen," he started, still chewing. He paused his work and walked over to sit beside the other for a while, hoping the situation could be calmed a little by their proximity. "I... I have to tell you something," he continued in a low tone, speaking to the floor now that his eyes hid themselves from Kibum's.

"Hmm." An empty wrapper was crumpled and thrown into the distance. ("Tch, why can't you get up and--" "Too lazy.")

Minho exhaled once, like he usually did on days he'd been selected to speak before a full assembly. "Yesterday... I mean, you know how I went to meet Professor Jinki yesterday? After the lecture?" Kibum slowly nodded at the wall in front of them, his expression unreadable, his tongue working to get out a piece of dried fruit from between his teeth.

"U-uh... the reason he gave me his number--I mean, it's not like I asked or anything, he just gave it and--"

"He's invited you to intern at his lab." Kibum promptly cut in and turned to Minho with a relaxed smile. "As an assistant at his research facility near Konkuk University. Isn't it?"

"H-how...?!" Minho balked, stuttering due to shock. "How do you already know?!"

The other shrugged repeatedly, then lifted and straightened his shirt over his shoulders in that distinctly Kibum way of his. They looked into each other's eyes till Kibum began to laugh soundlessly, leaning into Minho's side, putting all his dead weight into the action. "I have my sources~" he tapped at his temple, winking.

"You're Facebook stalking me aren't you?" Minho narrowed his eyes.

"In my defense I would I like to say: no comments."

Minho giggled and playfully hit the other's arm. "Idiot."

"Your face when you try to vomit out what you want to say, though, haha!" Kibum slapped his thigh, now barking his characteristic obnoxious laugh, the one that always got heads to turn in annoyance whenever they visited cafes together. Minho caught a glint of the other's tongue piercing through the wild action. "Ah~ I wish I had my camera~"

"Listen," he brought attention back to the conversation. "I--" he hung his head. "I won't go if you don't want me to."

"Really?" Kibum challenged. "You'll do whatever I say, is it?" Minho looked up to judge his response, trying to gauge if the other was being serious. When he found nothing to help him, he unsurely shook his head.

"I--"

"This is your dream, Hoho," a slender finger traced the curve of his jaw, lips stretching in a kind smile. "Don't give it up for some idiot issue I have with that... Professor Playboy." They both chuckled at the name. "Don't change your life for someone else. Go and learn. You won't get this opportunity again. You want to go, right?"

Minho didn't reply, just lay down with his head in the other's lap, wrapping his arms around Kibum's waist. Like when they rode the scooter together. It took only a few seconds for a warm set of fingers to find their way onto his scalp, massaging little circles of comfort.