They've never said it, never spoken those once special three words that seem to be thrown around uselessly these days, but Taemin knows. They don't even need to be said, because what they have is even more meaningful that those three words, he thinks.

The question of how he knows, without the confirmation of those three words, is often asked, and his answer? It's not something than can be defined in three simple words. It's in their actions, in their interactions, in their daily lives.

It's when they're teenagers and Minho brushes the tips of his calloused fingers across the clammy skin of his palm as they sit down in Taemin's family's living room, choking on their words and fumbling with incoherent sentences as they try to explain it – whatever it is that they have. Then the large, familiar hand completely engulfs his, the deep voice takes charge, and there's no doubt or disgust in his parents' eyes when he tells them that he'll take care of their son, that there's no reason to worry.

It's when his hands hurt after filling out countless arts university applications, head aching and throbbing with the stress of it all. Minho pulls the pen from his hand and lifts his stiff, unwilling body from the kitchen table of the elder's home and carries him seemingly effortlessly (although Taemin does hear his huffs and notices as he repositioned) up the stairway and to his bedroom. There, he lays the weary teenager down and tucks the covers up to his neck, all while the younger stifles his airy giggles and the elder just proceeds to pamper him anyways, paying no heed to the boy poking fun at him for his care.

It's when Taemin's eyes widen, a grin splitting across his face as he tears open that white envelope, the seal of Seoul University printed proudly across the front, and the gleaming letters of 'Accepted' are all he can see. He immediately turns to Minho, who is just always there, throwing his dainty arms around the elder's neck and squeezing as tightly as possible, nearly restricting the man's airflow, but Minho would never complain. He doesn't see the matching envelope that the sly idiot keeps hidden until later, when there's a press of lips an wandering hands.

It's when Taemin stumbles, nearly sending the cardboard box of fragile items along with himself to the floor, and Minho catches him, taking the box and pressing his lips against Taemin's as they carry the last of their items into their new apartment. The box of china is set onto their kitchen counter quite hastily before arms wrap around his waist and hold him close, breath tickling his neck as lips brush against the shell of his ear, Minho simply describing the feeling in is chest as similar to that of basking in the sun – warm and wonderful.

It's when he's being laid down on their bed on his birthday, clothes removed and with Minho pressing kisses down his neck and to his collarbone. The elder suddenly halts for a moment, lifting his head from the crook of Taemin's neck, expression pouring out more emotion than either would ever speak of, and Taemin stares back, gazes intense and lost within each other. The feeling in his chest then can be described as something like a wildfire, spreading throughout his entire body as those lips meet his, melding into something deeper.

It's when they're busy studying, stuck in the same old rut for nearly three years of school, eat, sleep, studying, and occasional kisses set as their daily routine. However, it isn't boring. Rather, it's comfortable, and although both express missing the passionate feelings they once held in their chests, it's better than that. It's like, just for a bit, they're more like a simmering, warm heat instead of a raging wildfire.

It's when they're holding their degrees in their hands, caps thrown and meeting their families to be drawn into loving hugs. They're adults now, and all of the sudden, it's as if something has changed. No longer are they kids holding hands or teenagers kissing each other senseless. They're even further than worn college students, struggling to keep up with their own lives. Now, they're onto a new chapter in life, and he knows then he meets Minho's large eyes over their parents' shoulders, exchanging their acknowledgment in the blink of an eye.

It's when Minho gets a nice paying job at a sports magazine firm and takes him out to an expensive dinner. They're both a bit out of place in the midst of the bunch of men and women dressed in the best of suits and dresses, but that's hardly any of their concern as they share smiles over their extremely-tiny-portion-for-the-price meals, only caring for the silent conversation between them.

It's when Minho holds him as he cries when his dancing career fails, saying nothing because there is nothing to say, no words that can possibly cure the ache in the boy's heart. In the end, there are no excuses or hushed, sweet nothings, because really – is there anything that can fill that void? The hole that the destroyed only passion that Taemin left? There isn't, but Minho's embrace is enough.

It's when they're struggling to make it along, and Minho gets down on one knee one day, completely out of the blue. They're at a park, simply walking along without a word or a worry in the world, when he pops the question, opening the blue satin box to reveal a simple silver band. Taemin is caught of guard, staring with wide eyes until, eventually, he gives a slow nod of his head. Within seconds, he's engulfed into an embrace, his own arms wrapping around the elder's waist and whispers of sweet words ghost into his ear.

They've never said it, and they never will. The syllables will never bubble their way up his dusty vocal chords, never to be used. It isn't necessary, not when their actions are enough for the two of them.

A/N: If you didn't catch it, Taemin is mute. ^.^ 

Anyways, yay~ The first chapter is up. What do you think? 
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