“I got you something,” Minho told Jinki the next time he saw him. It was just the two of them, blessedly so, and after a quick meal they were spread out on Jinki’s sofa. It felt good to just lay with the person he loved, hold Jinki close and let the stress melt away.

“You got me something?” Jinki asked, wedged down between the back of the sofa and Minho’s solid form. He laid his head over Minho’s heart and clutched at his shirt absently. “You didn’t have to. We decided we were equally in the wrong.”

“I know.” Minho’s fingers tugged playfully at the long strands of Jinki’s hair. Jinki’s hair color was something he’d finally adjusted to, but the growing length and lack of a haircut was something to add to that. The ends of Jinki’s hair were starting to curl in an adorable way, and now brushed down past his ears. It was nothing like the time Taemin had insisted on getting hair extensions, but Jinki’s hair was still getting pretty long. “But I saw it and wanted to.”

That was a bit of a lie, not that Jinki needed to know. He had gone hunting for the perfect present earlier that day, still feeling torn up with grief. He’d felt the need to make amends for his temper, a temper that had probably shaken Minho as much as Jinki.

“Okay,” Jinki said, “Where is it?”

Minho sat up slowly, reaching for his discarded jacket nearby. From the pocket he fished out a small box and handed it to Jinki, settling back into place.

“I really love presents,” Jinki confided with a wide smile. 

“Open it then,” Minho urged with a smile.

Jinki pulled at the bow on the box with nimble fingers, then worked the top off expertly. “I wonder what it is,” Jinki mumbled, his feet tangling with Minho’s expertly.

Minho explained, “I saw it and thought of you. I don’t think you have one like it.”

“Minho.” Jinki held up the small, jade figurine up to the light. “It’s adorable. It’s perfect.” Jinki squinted at it as he turned the figure over in his fingers. “It’s a tiny little lion.”

As Jinki threw his arms around Minho for a strong hug and soft accompanying kiss, Minho couldn’t help thinking he’d picked out the perfect present.

“Where’d you find it?” Jinki asked excitedly, scrambling to climb over Minho and stand.  He tugged Minho up to his feet and began dragging him back to his bedroom. 

“There’s a shop,” Minho explained, following along easily. “I saw it and thought of you. I didn’t think you had one of a lion.”

Jinki took him to his shelf of jade figures, and pride swelled in Minho’s chest as Jinki began immediately clearing some of them out of the way. He placed Minho’s gift front and center, admiring it for a second more.

Minho looked through the figures more carefully. “You told me your friends buy you these, right? Like a traditions of sorts?”

“Some friends,” Jinki confirmed, but added, “though mostly it’s just Joon.”

“Joon?” Minho asked, trying to keep his face straight. The last thing he wanted to do was bring up the thuggish looking man.

“It’s his tradition, I guess,” Jinki said, pointing a majority of the figures out. “He started it about a year ago. He’d send me a new one from Hong Kong every couple of weeks.”

“Why jade?”

Jinki shrugged. “Mir told me once that jade is very popular in Hong Kong.  Maybe that’s why. Regardless, I think it’s pretty.”

“You’ve mentioned someone named Mir before. Is he special to you, too?”

Jinki rang his finger absently over the front of the shelf, picking up only a tiny bit of dust. “Yes, but not like you and Joon are to me. Mir is … he’s complicated, Minho. I’m not being vague on purpose. I suppose the best way to describe Mir is this: he loves Joon very much, and if they could be together, they would.”

That wasn’t very descriptive at all, but part of Minho was relieved to know that Joon seemed to be spoken for. There’d been no denying the truth in the way he’d denied being in love with Jinki, but still, there’d been a nagging worry at the back of Minho’s mind over their familiarity.

“Anyway,” Jinki brushed off, “I’m glad to have your present. It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Minho wrapped his arms around Jinki, holding him close. “You should know by now that making you happy, makes me happy.”

Minho wanted to press the issue with Joon, and find out as much as he could about the man, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood he’d built up with Jinki. There was no doubt in Minho’s mind that there was something off or worrisome about Joon, but it was too soon to make any real determinations. He’d have to be patient and wait for Jonghyun to get back to him.

“Taemin’s test is on Friday, right?” Jinki asked, slipping from Minho’s arms to head back into the main area of the apartment. 

“Yep,” Minho said, following him. “And believe me when I say all of us will be glad when it’s over. Kibum is tearing his hair out over worrying about the test more than Taemin at this point.”

Jinki pointed out, “I studied with Taemin for a while when you were gone. He’s very smart. I don’t think any of you have anything to worry about. He’ll score well and get into a good university.” 

“Part of me knows that,” Minho said, “but I am still worried. Taemin wants to go into law enforcement like Jonghyun. To do that and reach the level he wants, he’ll have to go to a good university.”

Jinki reiterated, “Taemin is smart. I have faith in him.”

In that moment, Minho had faith in himself and Jinki.

A few days later, just before Taemin’s exams, Jonghyun came to see Minho at his office.  He’d purposely waited until Kibum had gone out for a lunch break with a few friends, with more than enough time until Taemin or the twins came home from school.

“Here,” Jonghyun said, slamming a plain folder down on Minho’s desk.

“What’s this?” Minho set aside his laptop and reached for the file. The plain cover to the folder was a dead giveaway that the contents inside were probably something that Jonghyun was not supposed to be giving to someone outside the police department. “Information on …?” he trailed off deliberately.

“Lee Joon is an alias,” Jonghyun confirmed, pulling a chair close to Minho’s desk. “His real name is Lee Chang Sun. And let me tell you something, Minho, this guy is slipperier than a snake.”

“Not good, then,” Minho breathed out. It was something he’d already known, but for Jinki’s sake part of him had wanted to be wrong. 

Jonghyun ran a hand through his newly blond hair and Minho found himself still distracted by the color. Jinki’s complimented his complexion, but Jonghyun’s was harder to adjust to. 

“Not good,” Jonghyun complained. “He’s been in and out of the system for a while, been arrested several times for varying charges, and by all accounts, he’s not one to tangle with. Minho, I don’t like the look of this guy, at least not on paper. H aggressive, there are charges for assault here,  and there’s a link to gang activity.”

Minho spat out, “Gang activity. Triad?”

Jonghyun shook his head. “It’s a Korean tie, but it’s not too hard to imagine that if things started to get hot in Korea, that he booked it over to China. China is a big place, the ideal place to hide out for a while until things cooled down. Getting involved with the triad over there would be a natural evolution for someone with Lee’s history.”

Minho demanded, “How is he getting in and out of the country so frequently?”

“That’s something else we have to talk about,” Jonghyun said, patience obviously running thin. “You told me that Onew said he’s been out of the country for sure?”

Minho nodded. “Hong Kong, but apparently he’ll come and visit every once in a while. Why?”

Jonghyun pressed his hands together and rested them against his lips, head bowing forward. “I talked to a friend. There’s absolutely no record of this guy leaving the country at any time, or coming back for that matter. Not a single account.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Minho asked, “What does that mean?” 

“It means that this guy is getting in and out of the country without so much as a breadcrumb. It means he’s got connections, or a lot of money. Maybe both.  And Minho, this is the kind of guy you want to stay away from. His assault charges are … nothing to fool around with.”

Quietly, Minho wanted to know, “How bad was the incident?”

Jonghyun tapped a finger on the file. “The first one he beat a man into a coma. Then there’s the incident where he gouged a man’s eyes out. With his hands. And there are others. Some of these cases were vicious in nature, and way too many of them were dismissed with a mere slap on the wrist. That last part is what really worries me.”

Minho wasn’t naïve. He wasn’t foolish or disillusioned to the way the system worked. He knew that for every genuinely good cop like Jonghyun, there was a dirty cop to match him. But it was easy to forget about the corruption when he didn’t personally witness it on a daily basis. 

“I talked to this guy,” Minho told Jonghyun, slowly looking through the file, reading the police reports, “and he gave me an unsettled feeling in my stomach. I knew he was dangerous just looking at him, but I didn’t imagine anything like this. He’s a smartass, Jonghyun, and he’s got a temper lurking under the surface, but these reports …”

Minho shared a dark look with Jonghyun as he ran across some of the pictures in the folder.

Jonghyun asked Minho, “Do you think Onew has any clue about his cousin?”

Minho interjected, “He’s not really his cousin, right?”

Jonghyun shook his head. “They definitely grew up together, and that likely accounts for any familiarity or loyalty they may have for each other, but they don’t share any blood.”

At least that was a comfort. 

Thinking back to Jinki’s behavior, Minho was confident in telling Jonghyun, “I think that Jinki thinks his cousin is a little rough around the edges, maybe he’s gotten mixed up in some bad things in the past, and it’s possible that he’s misunderstood, but there’s no way Jinki knows this about this Joon guy.”

“How can you be so sure.”

“Because,” Minho sighed out. “I’ve seen his face when he talks about his cousin. Jinki … he’s never been exposed to the kinds of things we have. He doesn’t have a poker face, I guess you could say. He wouldn’t be able to hide this. There’s no way he knows. He idolizes his cousin in a lot of ways.”

There was also something in Minho’s gut telling him Joon didn’t want Jinki to know about certain things. From what Minho could tell, Joon seemed to handle Jinki was kid gloves, wanting to protect him from what he determined to be threats.  It was just a feeling, but Minho certain that this was something that Joon would classify as a threat, if only to Jinki’s emotional wellbeing. 

“I don’t want this guy anywhere near Jinki,” Minho said with a shaky voice. He turned concerned eyes on Jonghyun. “Do you think there’s any connection between Jinki almost being hit by that car, someone breaking into his apartment, and Joon showing up?”

Jonghyun wondered, “Do you want there to be?”

Maybe a little, but ultimately his honest answer was, “No. As much as I don’t like this guy, Jinki loves him. It would hurt Jinki’s heart if his cousin was causing the problems, for whatever reason.”

Jonghyun gave a chuckle and said, “You’re a better man than most, Minho. Never forget that.”

“Yeah?” Minho said, leaning back in his chair. “When it comes to stuff like this, I wish I was a little worse.”

At least until the pressure surrounding Taemin’s exam was done, both Jonghyun and Minho agreed to set aside their worries over Jinki’s cousin. Letting the matter go for the time left a bad taste in Minho’s mouth, but he couldn’t disagree with Jonghyun that Taemin needed their full attention.

And of course, Minho had a sixth sense for knowing when something was going to be a complete mess, which was why he knew the morning of Taemin’s exam was going to be ground zero.

“Key! Minho! I can’t find my jacket! Arrhhh!” A heavy thump followed, and then another wail of despair.

Kibum looked at Minho across the kitchen and said emphatically, “He’s going to have a .”

Minho rubbed a hand across his forehead and handed a bowl to Kibum. “Just focus on breakfast. I’ll get him out here.”

Kibum reached for the bowl and Minho jumped back as they missed each other, the bowl shattering down to the ground and breaking into a million pieces.

“What was that?” Taemin demanded, nearly falling through the doorway to Kibum’s bedroom where he’d been dressing.

“Nothing,” Minho called back, taking in the sight of Taemin’s mismatched buttons on his uniform’s jacket. “I dropped a bowl. Now get out here. You have to eat before your test.”

“I’m not hungry,” Taemin protested right away.

Kibum took a careful step over the broken bowl and called out, “It’s almost funny you think I’m giving you the option. Now get over here. The rice is ready.”

It took another few minutes to get the broken bowl cleaned up and the three of them at the table, and even then Minho and Kibum shared worried glances as Taemin picked at his food.

“You’re going to do fine,” Minho assured Taemin quietly. 

“I know it’s a lot of pressure,” Kibum added, leaning a heavy arm on the table. “But no matter what happens, we’re proud of you.”

Minho peered at Kibum for a long second, then asked quietly, “Are you feeling okay?” Kibum was naturally pale, but now he looked even more so.  Kibum tended to have the immune system of an elephant, and nothing short of the plague seemed to take him down, but even Kibum was human. He caught a cold once in a while, even if Minho couldn’t remember the last time it had been.

“Fine,” Kibum mumbled, bangs hiding his face as his head dipped. He cleared his throat, then asked, “Taemin, you know that we don’t care how well you test, right? We know it’s important to you, and we want you to do well, but how well you place doesn’t determine how much we care about you.”

Taemin gave them a serious nod. “I know. Thanks.”

Minho sat up a little straighter, still concerned over the way Kibum seemed to be slumping. “Finish up, okay? We don’t want to be late.”

Taemin’s appetite seemed to pick up after that, if only a little, and the meal was finished in relative silence. Minho had half expected to see one of Taemin’s study guides at the table with them, but he supposed the teen had done all the studying that was physically possible.

“I’m going to go drop him off now,” Minho told Kibum as Taemin fitted his shoes on near the door.  “I’ll swing by the cake shop after that, and get everything we need. Jonghyun is going to pick him up after his test and keep him distracted until we’re ready here.”

“Okay,” Kibum nodded. “I’ll clean up here, try to get a little work in downstairs, and I’ll be ready by the time you get back.”

Minho made to press the back of his hand against Kibum’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay? I don’t like how pale you are.”

“I’m fine.” Kibum ducked away. “We need to focus on Taemin right now.”

“If you’re not feeling well, you should tell me. Me caring about your health doesn’t affect how well I can focus on Taemin.”

With a deep breath Kibum gave a slow nod. “I know. And I’m feeling a little under the weather, but not bad. I’ll rest a little before Taemin gets back, and take some medicine. I’ll be fine. This’ll blow over. But you should get going now. Taemin needs to be at school soon, and you have to buy that cake.”

Reluctantly, Minho said, “Alright. But I don’t want you to work today if you’re not feeling great. Leave the cases for a second. They’ll hold.”

“They’re what’s going to help us pay for Taemin’s tuition,” Kibum argued, and gave Minho a push. “So go take him already. He looks like he might bounce up against the ceiling at any time, too.”

Sure enough, Taemin was watching them with a curious expression, lifting up from the balls of his feet in a bounce every few seconds. 

“Take it easy,” Minho all but demanded as he moved to gather up his things.

“I’m going to do the dishes,” Kibum called after him, like he thought Minho was stupid for thinking anything else. “Not much of a challenge there.”

In the car Minho couldn’t help but noticing how fidgety Taemin was. Obviously the kid was nothing but a buddle of nervous.

“It really is okay to be nervous,” Minho promised, coming to a stop at a red light. He reached a hand over to Taemin’s knee and patted it. “If you weren’t, I’d probably think there was something wrong with you. I really mean that. If you weren’t, you’d be the only kid in the history of the universe to not be nervous.”

“Minho.” Taemin slumped a little in his seat. “You were nervous when you took your exams?”

“Terrified,” Minho said with a laugh. “I have an older brother, remember? He’d done very well on his exams and there was a lot of pressure on me from my parents to do just as well. I was already stressed, and not just from the exams.”

“From what else?” Taemin asked. 

“Well,” Minho told him, “my parents wanted me to go and study business. They wanted me to get a good job at a strong company and make a lot of money. I guess that’s what most parents want for their kids. It’s what my brother was doing. But I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go to college. I knew I wanted to do this--help other people. I knew I didn’t need college to help people.”

“Is that why your parents don’t call?” Taemin asked a little timidly.  A grimace made its way onto his handsome face. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but they never call. They never visit. They don’t … I don’t think I’ve ever seen them.”

It used to be a sour subject to Minho, but the years had dulled the pain, and both Kibum and Taemin had helped.

“I think that’s a lot of the reason they don’t call. They were disappointed in me. We fought badly right before I left home. They’re very traditional, Taemin.”

Taemin’s school came quickly into view after that, but Minho let the car idle a little bit from the front entrance. 

“You’re very smart, Taemin,” Minho said, pulling the parking break before leaning over for a strong hug. “You have nothing to worry about if you do your best,”

Taemin hugged him back fiercely. “Thank you, Minho.”

As Minho pulled forward, and Taemin exited the car, Minho called after him, “Don’t walk home or take the bus, okay? Jonghyun is going to pick you up and take you down to the station for a little bit.”

Taemin frowned. “Why? 

“Not sure.” Minho shrugged. “He just told Kibum and I he needed you down there for something. He’ll bring you home after.”

Taemin echoed Minho’s shrug, waved to him, and then headed into the school for the most important exam of his life.

As Taemin’s figure grew smaller and smaller before disappearing, Minho couldn’t  help the burst of pride in his chest that seemed to explode out of nowhere.  Taemin really was all grown up now. Soon he’d been in college, then in the real world, and after that he would be somewhere Minho couldn’t follow. Somewhere he knew he had no place following.

He was just finishing up picking out Taemin’s cake when he felt his phone go off in his pocket. Awkwardly shuffling around for it, he half expected to see either Kibum or Jinki’s name on the screen. He didn’t give his personal number out to many people, preferring to route most of his calls through the office, and the caller was someone he almost didn’t recognize.

It took him a minute or so to remember he’d given his personal line out to both Ken and N on separate occasions. It was a sign that he’d gotten himself too deep into the case, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He ignored the call and it ate at his gut as he let it go to voice mail. 

There was likely only one reason either of the boys would be calling him, and that was if they’d found something they thought was significant about Leo. But this was Taemin’s day. This was the day that Taemin had studied for at last for the better part of a year. Taemin deserved to have all the people who loved him give him their full attention. Plus, Minho was certain that Leo hadn’t mysteriously appeared over night. Anything having to do with Leo would hold until the next morning.

“Kibum?” Minho called out as soon as he got back. He dropped his voice immediately a second later, remembering that Kibum had said he’d be resting. If he was sleeping, Minho didn’t want to wake him. 

Minho set the cake down on the low table in the main room and placed his keys in the nearby basket.  His phone followed, the screen indicating he had several missed calls from N and more than one voice mail message. 

The door to Kibum’s room was still open, the way Taemin had left it that morning, but that didn’t mean Kibum wasn’t in there sleeping. They barely cared about privacy these days.

The dishes were still half out. That was what Minho noticed first. At least half of them had been cleared away, but others were still out. That was unlike Kibum who was a bit of a neat freak and always insisted on doing the dishes himself. Minho still remembered the epic fight they’d had, resulting in many broken dishes when Minho had tried to defend his own dishwashing abilities and Kibum had taken personal offense. Now Kibum almost did the dishes exclusively. 

“Kibum?” Minho couldn’t help calling out. What would have come up so suddenly that he’d have left the dishes out? The office downstairs wasn’t open, either, which wasn’t something Minho had expected. 

“Kibum!”

Feet from the kitchen Minho spotted his best friend, sprawled out on the cold tiles, a terrifyingly red pool of liquid spreading out from his head.

“Kibum!” 

Minho dashed to his side, crying out in alarm as he frantically tried to assess the situation. Kibum was partially on his side, partially his stomach, his legs tangled up and his coloring even more pallid than before. The pool of blood around his head was spreading out slowly but Minho couldn’t tell where from and he was too frightened to try and move him. 

Choking out a cry Minho pulled himself back up to his feet, lunging for the nearby cordless phone they kept on the wall near the kitchen. His fingers were shaking too badly to dial the emergency number the first time. In fact it took two more tries before he was connected and an ambulance was on its way.

“I don’t know,” he sobbed out as the emergency responder asked if he knew how Kibum had injured himself. “I found him like this.” Minho’s hands were red tinted from where they’d soaked into the blood at Kibum’s head. The blood was warm and Minho was choking on the vomit that wanted to come up.

When the responder instructed him to check Kibum’s breathing, Minho ducked his head low onto Kibum’s chest. His heart was beating loud enough for Minho to hear, and Kibum’s breath was coming out evenly. 

“There’s a lot of blood,” he stammered, tears falling rapidly as he knelt helplessly next to Kibum. “I can’t see where it’s coming from. Why is he bleeding so much?”

Leaving Kibum was the hardest thing Minho had ever done, but he had to. He had to trip his way down the stairs to the ground floor to let the ambulance’s paramedics in and lead them back to Kibum’s body.

“Head wound,” one of the paramedics decided without more than a glance. He fitted Kibum with a neck brace and Minho backed up until he hit the adjacent countertop. He watched the paramedics roll Kibum carefully onto his back and the board that they’d use to carry him downstairs. 

“How long ago did you find him?” the other paramedic was asking, but there was a roar of sound in Minho’s ears and he was breathing too fast. 

“Sir?”

“The blood,” Minho said, tasting his own salty tears as they dripped down his face.

One of the paramedics was gathering up their things, and the other offered  to Minho, “Your friend seems to have a serious head wound. Head wounds bleed heavily. The blood is superficial to a point, at least compared to the blunt impact we‘re guessing he experienced when hitting the floor. Now, can you tell me how long ago you found him?”

The kitchen was filled with sharp corners and points. More than once Minho had hurt himself, and Kibum had often chided him on his carelessness. But now Minho’s eyes flirted about the kitchen and almost immediately he could spot the countertop edge Kibum had likely hit on the way down. There was something red on the sharp edge. Kibum’s blood.

“Can I go with you?” Minho asked, racing after the paramedics as they traversed the narrow hallway  and emerged out onto the street where their ambulance was parked haphazardly.  “I’m his family.” There was no way he could let Kibum go off without him. If the roles had been reversed, Kibum never would have let Minho go alone.

“Get in,” a paramedic said gruffly, but warned, “don’t get in our way.”

In the ambulance Minho braced himself back against the doors and watched one of the paramedics work quickly and efficiently on Kibum while the other sped them off towards the hospital.