He’s there again. Sitting on the same bench he sits on almost everyday, small brown leather sketchbook in his hand, a pencil in the other. His dark brown hair is messy as ever, and his pants are covered in a rainbow of splattered paint. His shirt is probably much the same, but today it is covered by a black jacket. He has a black scarf to match this time, as autumn has finally approached and the air is getting a little colder. He didn’t do anything else but sit on that bench with his sketchbook, observing the area around him. Some days Taemin would catch him staring in his direction, but he would always hastily look away when their eyes met.

He is handsome, that much Taemin can admit. But they never speak to each other. Taemin is busy chasing his niece and nephew around the park most of the afternoon – it’s not much but he gets a decent amount of money for watching them, and he loves them even though they drive him crazy – and the other man is busy drawing in his sketchbook with a faraway look in his eyes.

Every time Taemin sees him, things are much the same. But his sister is with him today, as she had gotten off of work early, and told him he didn’t need to babysit. But he accompanies them to the park anyways, for reasons he won’t admit. Always the over-observant sister, she notices his lingering glances at the stranger.

“Go talk to him,” Taeyeon grins, nudging him with her elbow.

“What? Who?”

“The guy with the sketchbook, of course.”

“No way. I don’t even know him.” Taemin looks away, not allowing his sister to see his flushed cheeks, embarrassed that he was so obvious.

“He stares over here even more than you do. I’m sure he wants to know you.”

Taemin doesn’t reply, but instead stalks off to the sand box with his nephew, much like a sulking toddler. While helping the younger boy build a sand castle, he hears the shrill ring of a cell phone, and looks over curiously to see the stranger set his sketchbook on the bench beside him and pull the phone from his packet to answer it.

“What?...Really!?...Crap. I’ll be there in 5 minutes.” It’s the first time Taemin hears his voice, and it’s much deeper than he expects it to be. Before he can even begin to wonder what the other man is hearing on the end of the phone, the stranger stands up hastily and runs down the pathway and out of the park.

His sketchbook is left lying on the bench.

And it’s just too tempting.

Taemin knows what he’s about to do is wrong. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy. He knows it’s an thing to do. But, as he walks over to the bench, he tries to convince himself that he’s only doing it because he doesn’t want the sketchbook to get lost or stolen.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he’s sitting on the bench, and picking up the sketchbook, the leather still warm from the stranger’s hands. He opens it, and stares in awe of the first drawing. It’s very simple; just a sketch of the trees and fallen leaves. But Taemin finds it beautiful and he stares at it for quite some time before turning the page. The next dozen or so pages are like the first, beautiful and elegant sketches of nature. He recognizes most of them to be areas in the park; places he can see perfectly from the bench.

He turns the page again, and almost drops the sketchbook after realizing what he sees.

He sees his own face. It’s his hair; dark and much too long in the back and sides. It’s his eyes, and his cheeks and his teeth and his lips stretched into a wide smile.

It’s very strange seeing another person’s view of him. Somehow, the stranger made him look so much more beautiful than he actually is.

He stunned to discover that every page after that is a sketch of him. He’s doing different things in each one; running, playing in the leaves with his niece, climbing the monkey bars with his nephew, putting a band-aid on his niece’s scraped knee, smiling, frowning, laughing…

His cheeks grow warm with each page he sees, a little embarrassed of someone seeing so much of him.

He doesn’t hear the rushed footsteps until they’re close, and by then, it is too late. He knows he’s been caught when he looks up to see the stranger staring back and forth between him and the sketchbook, his eyes wide and horrified.

“Um…,” Taemin starts, not sure how to explain himself.

The man looks around frantically, before jumping behind the closest tree he can find. Taemin fights the urge to laugh, because he knows the man is probably already embarrassed enough. He stands up and walks over with the sketchbook in hand. He peeks around the tree to see the stranger crouched down, head in his hands, probably hoping that Taemin wouldn’t come looking for him. “Um excuse me? Is this yours?” Taemin tries, offering the sketchbook.

Taemin hears a groan from the man. “No,” he says first, and then turns his head to peak up at the sketchbook. “Maybe.” His face is as red as a tomato by now, and Taemin almost feels bad for confronting him. “Yes,” he finally admits with a sigh, standing up and taking the sketchbook.

He’s quite tall; taller than Taemin had realized. “You looked inside, didn’t you?” The stranger asks, obviously dreading his answer.

“Yes,” Taemin admits shamefully. “I’m so sorry. It was so rude of me to-“

The stranger doesn’t even seem to hear his apology. He groans again and lifts his hand to hide his flushed cheeks. “I swear I’m not some creepy ert. I just- and you- I don’t- I like to draw pretty things, and you’re so- oh crap no that sounds really creepy. Your features, they just- they’re perfect- um for drawing…and stuff.”

Taemin stares with raised eyebrows at the babbling stranger, a little stunned by his poor attempt at explaining himself.

And then he laughs. He laughs because this isn’t really how he expected the man to be. The stranger is not stoic and silent and sophisticated. He’s so much better, with his charming eyes and his flushed cheeks and his cute stuttering.

The man stares at him wide-eyed as he giggles. “Um,” he says, not sure what to make of the reaction.

When his fit of giggles fades away, Taemin straightens up and offers his hand, “My name is Taemin. What’s yours?” He asks, smiling.

The man still seems shocked by his behavior, and it takes a moment for him to react. “M-Minho,” he answers, taking the hand Taemin offered. His hand is delightfully warm, and much bigger, Taemin notices.

“Do you want to get some coffee with me?”

“What? Really?” Minho asks, eyes going impossibly wider. “I- I mean yeah, definitely. Yes.”

“Great,” Taemin grins, and pulls him out from behind the tree and down the pathway to the exit.

“Wait, now?” Minho asks.

“Yes, now,” Taemin answers, laughing.

When he looks back, Minho still looks a little surprised, but the dreamy smile on his lips assures Taemin that Minho is more than happy to go anywhere with him.