Touch

Suffocation.

                     Taemin walked into the airport, face masked because of his cold. Flanked by innumerable followers who only seemed to want to shove their cameras into his face, Taemin felt suffocated. He kept his head low. Taemin wished his fans would not entrap him like a cornered animal without any breathing space.

Fatigue.

              Taemin was exhausted, running on only three hours of sleep. All he wished at that point of time was a good night’s rest, but he knew that it was a luxury he could not afford.

Cold.

          He sniffled. His nose was still blocked and he felt sicker than before. Taemin had no idea how he would perform in Hong Kong. He grimaced, cursing his weak immunity and blessing the detachable mask for concealing his expressions. He had no intentions of seeing his face churned out in tabloids with headlines, “Taemin displeased at airport services?!”
He silently chuckled at his awful sarcasm.

Minho.

            He looked behind to see Minho smiling. Taemin wondered how Minho could keep smiling even when he was dead tired. Minho’s cheerful demeanour was infectious, but not today. Taemin turned to look in front and continued to walk the familiar length of the airport.

Touch.

          A  hand tapped Taemin’s  arm. Of course, Taemin knew who touched him. The long fingers, the scent of his body, the way his fingers gently curled around Taemin’s wrist and the way Minho’s body heat surged through his at just one touch - It was all too familiar.

Eyes.

       Taemin’s head snapped back. He was met by the recognisable warmth of Minho’s amphibious eyes , obscured by Minho’s sunglasses - Eyes which expressed so much - a piercing gaze, a hundred questions of confusion, drooping eyes of sadness, fiery expressions of rage or an intense stare of concentration. But Taemin’s favourite were the crinkled, upturned pools of happiness, the eyes which smiled, and right now Taemin was sure he   was being faced by these very eyes had it not been for the shades.
Taemin tried to smile, he wanted to smile, he wished to smile, but his fatigue stopped him.

Voice.

           “Taemin,” he cocked his head to one side and flashed Taemin a crooked half-smile. The depth of Minho’s voice seemed to be all the more profound when he spoke softly. Taemin liked to classify his hyung’s voice textures into colours. Presently, it was chocolate brown, filled with concern and affection.

“Hm?” Taemin asked, eyebrows arching up.

“Why so serious?” Said Minho in a singsong fashion, while grinning at him.

Taemin groaned and rolled his eyes in reply.

“B-but, I was being serious Taemin!” Complained Minho sincerely, pouting his lips in mock dissatisfaction.

“Nothing. I guess.  I’m just tired. It’s been a hectic week.”

Minho’s face lit up all of a sudden and he flashed his pearly white teeth.

“What’s so... funny?”  Taemin asked frowning, his lips turning down into a scowl but of course, Minho couldn’t see it.

Minho chuckled a bit, his baritone voice reverberating in Taemin’s ears, causing Taemin to  rub his hands to ease out the sudden outbreak of goosebumps (Taemin tried his best to make himself believe that the goosebumps were because of the cold and not because of Minho’s voice). Minho’s eyes followed his every movement, as they walked along the all too familiar pathway of the airport, Minho walking behind Taemin.

Taemin sensed a pair of eyes boring into his back.

“Hyung, why are you staring at my… back?”

“Ooh Sherlock Taeminnie,” Came a prompt reply from Minho, half-cooing.

Taemin shook his head in disapproval of Minho’s reply (which really did not answer why he was staring at his back) and sighed.

Poor Minho scratched his head in innocent distress wondering what was wrong with the younger boy.

In a split second of mindless thinking, Minho grabbed Taemin’s arm and brought Taemin to a halt. Taemin, now facing Minho, looked at him in bewilderment.

“Now what?”  Taemin asked, with a tinge of exasperation in his voice. Minho looked down for a second, and faced Taemin with a helpless smile.

“Shouldn’t I ask you that?” Minho asked softly.

“Well…. Taemin trailed off, not-so-subtly looking at his arm being held captive by Minho and shifted about uncomfortably. Minho looked at Taemin with amusement and let go of his hand.

“Well?” Minho asked, a sly smile plastered on his face/

“Well nothing!” Replied a flushing Taemin (Taemin’s mind couldn’t process why he was flushing in the first place). Minho giggled and lightly Taemin’s cheek.

Sparks.

     Taemin’s eyes widened in a chill shock of nameless surprise. Taemin could describe his voice, his eyes, his physique but Taemin could never fathom why his brain tended to short-circuit whenever Minho touched him. It could be a feathery caress or a strong hug, but Minho’s touch caused  sparks in his body.
   Bright, orange sparks doused in red by Minho’s affection. Taemin smiled at his stupid analogy for Minho’s touch. He realised Minho’s cheesiness was probably rubbing off on him.

Minho noticed Taemin’s eyes crinkling up and guessed that he was probably smiling.

“There! That smile looks better than a scowl well, even though I can’t see it. You should keep it on more often,” Minho added cheerily.

Taemin felt the blood rushing to his cheeks as his ears reddened, and he knew it was impossible to hide. He sent out wordless prayers to Jesus, anything to prevent Choi Minho from noticing that he was publicly blushing at his touch but it was too late as his perpetrator had already spotted it and was raising a finger to point it out.

“Oh my! Are you really blushing again?” Asked Minho flirtily.

“Shut up! It’s a just a biological reaction to certain stuff,” Taemin answered brusquely.

“Oh yeah? Care to teach me more about this ‘biology’ of yours? And by ‘certain stuff’, do you mean the great Choi Minho’s Flaming Charisma?” Said Minho with a laugh, earning a cold glare from Taemin, who wished his body would not act up on its, but strangely enough (or maybe not that strangely enough) his lips curled into a smile of its own accord.

“Finally! Thanks for smiling,” Said Minho gently.

“Yeah… Okay. Now walk for Christ’s sake!” Replied Taemin, a tinge of nervousness colouring his voice as he quickened his steps.

“Taemin, wait up!”

“CAN YOU NOT hear the click of the cameras?” Taemin whispered furiously, gesturing with his eyes towards the several cameras held by the fans.

“Damn, we sure did give those girls a lot of food for thought, didn’t we?” Answered Minho with a sly smirk and wiggled his eyebrows.

“HYUNG!”

“Fine! Fine!”  Chortled Minho, as they made their way through the crowd, to their next destination.