Up until now, Kibum never thought that the ceiling of their dorm room could actually be this interesting. Because it’s not like there was anything else of utmost importance that he should be occupying himself with right now, like maybe doing some advanced reading or picking up groceries or going to class. He would rather choose to look up the ceiling and take in all its ceilingness. It’s so pretty and white and flat and oh look there’s a spider web forming at the corner, that’s hot. Yeah.

Because it's not like he just got off the phone with his mother who told him that it's mandatory for him to attend grandma's birthday party tomorrow. The same mother who threatened to cut off his allowance if he just spent it all on accessories and clothes and parkas instead of using it on normal college expenses like booze and dates and actually devoting it on other people. Nooo. He would rather spend his time and money on himself, not on morons who don’t even know the difference between beige and ecru. Please.

And it's not like he's panicking because he may or may not have to cover up the lie that he's actually being a normal and functional college student who is dating someone just to get his mother off his back. And that his mother may or may not have just blabbed it all to grandma who is now demanding that he bring said three-month boyfriend this Saturday, which is tomorrow by the way.

.

There's still this faint recurring beep-beep-beep from his phone that he's clutching tightly in his hand. Oh god, he's gonna die. Or worse. His grandma is probably gonna set him up again with one of her friend's granddaughters (Haeri or Hwayoung, he can’t exactly remember but he knows he hates her hair) and manipulate the conversation in which his Momma would find a way to whisper in his ear, "Talk to her or there will be no pie for you mister."

He can always just ditch the whole thing at one point. He can say that there are still surprise requirements that he has to cram and just can't drive down when his grades are on the line. But thinking about it, he probably can't live with the fact that his Momma will keep on sending him disappointed looks the next time they meet. It's like a ing speech bubble, what her eyes can convey to him like 'I can see through your lies'. In the end, he's not even gonna consider that option.

How pathetic is it, really, that at the back of his mind, there’s a nagging idea that says, ‘hey you can just hire someone to be your lover for the weekend’ or ‘you can just man up and pretend you enjoy whatever Bimbo-Haired-Haeri is telling you about her cat’.

“Oh my god.”

The door opens and Kibum doesn’t even notice until two seconds later, there’s a smirking face staring down at him and blocking his view of the pretty, pretty ceiling.

“What are you doing?”

“Go away.” Kibum mumbles and promptly sits up.

Kibum rubs the corner of his eyes as Minho takes off his soccer studs and just throws them at his side of the room. He notices the specks of soil and grass that were stuck to the soles of his shoes bounce against the corner and land on the floor, which then Kibum promptly makes a face at the disgusting sight.

“Clean the dirt up, you moron. That is disgusting to see.”

Minho ignores him and Kibum huffs, lying back down so he can stare at the ceiling and not at Minho’s as he changes his shirt. Oh not this again. Why is it that at their age, Kibum’s still assigned to the job of telling Minho what to do and what not to do. Like for example, Minho’s current state of undress, which is frankly speaking, partly annoying and impolite.

“Can you at least tell me when you’re gonna strip so a guy could have some notice that he’s about to see your s. Nobody wants to see your big s, Choi.” Kibum snaps.

Minho laughs and out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Minho pause as he puts on his shirt and just removes it again.
“Oh for the love of- Put the ing shirt back on!”

Kibum starts to throw anything he gets a hold of, his slipper first then his pillow that hits Minho squarely in the head. “Ow! Fine then. What’s got your in a twist,”

He’s frowning now as the conversation with his mother runs through his head that he can see Minho watching him, his gaze turning a little serious. “Did something happen?”

“It’s Momma’s birthday tomorrow.” He says flatly.

Minho’s eyebrows draw for a moment. “Momma?”

“You know, Momma, my grandma who likes to pinch your cheeks and call you Minmin, for some reason.”

“Ah,” Minho blankly responds as he grabs his bag and goes through his things to fix. There are his books and some dirty clothes probably from soccer practice. “And?”

“What?”

“Why do you look like someone just ripped your favorite pink cloth?”

Kibum gasps. “Cloth? Excuse yourself Choi Minho. That is not just a pink piece of cloth! I’ve had it since I was like, ten. It’sprecious to me.”

“The thing’s got holes in it, and there are rips across the front. I don’t even understand why you still wear it.”

“It’s comfortable to wear, thank you very much for your unwanted opinion, which I didn’t ask for but you took on the liberty to give anyway. So I just want to thank you. Again.” Kibum rolls his eyes so hard it’s a surprise they didn’t reel all the way to Minho’s feet.

Minho continues folding his clothes, still unimpressed. “Yes, yes. Point made. Three for you Kim Kibum. You go Kim Kibum.”

Kibum glares. “That reference? Really? Nothing else?”

Minho just raises an eyebrow at him and shakes his head, all the same with a smile on lips. “Still haven’t told me why you’re upset.”

Oh. That. “I-” Jesus Christ, what was he thinking? He can’t actually say it to Minho’s face. The goddamn alien will laugh at him and wish him good luck when karma starts to deal with him. And it’s not like he can just say, ‘I told my family that I’m dating someone and they want me to bring him tomorrow?’

Minho stares at him and it wasn’t as if he blurted his thoughts out loud. “Yes, you just did.” Then Minho is apparently laughing at him, just like he expected the other to react. He’s clutching his hands to his stomach and starts to dramatically dab the corners of his eyes, as if the whole thing just brought tears to his eyes. Great.

“Good to know that my demise has provided entertainment for you.” Kibum rolls his eyes as Minho apparently has no plans to stop laughing anytime soon. So he picks up his other slipper and throws it to Minho’s head once again. “Can you stop?”

Minho looks at him and his breaths are starting to even out. But there’s still this lingering hint of amusement attached to his voice. “This is some blackmail material you set yourself up in, Kibum. Better than the time you played with your mom’s makeup and had no idea how to remove it afterwards.”

“Oh come on! Why do you still remember that? That was in fifth grade!”

“I have plenty more embarrassing moments of you filed up in my brain. In chronological order, if ever you’re deathly curious to ask.” Minho grins.

Kibum just glares at him in return. “Have I ever told you that I hate you? That I regret ever being friends with you and that sometimes, I actually wish I wasn’t that angelic enough to talk to the geeky new kid?”

“Nope.” Minho laughs once again and Kibum is becoming more and more annoyed at the sound.

So Kibum just checks his nails and waits for it to die down. He should have just done so earlier. Minho could have been tame minutes ago if only the other didn’t rile him up so much. “Are you done?”

Minho’s taking long and deep breaths to calm himself down. Thank God. “Gotta save some for later.” Then he’s walking to the fridge and tossing him a bottle of water. It’s by the little things that Kibum knows that Minho is actually willing to talk seriously now, despite all the joking and mocking earlier.

Both of them were quiet and Kibum just holds the bottle and takes in the coldness. He can feel Minho’s gaze sitting across him and he doesn’t look up. What is he actually going to do tomorrow? His Momma can probably pat him in the head and he can appreciate the looks of sympathy but then again, it’s her birthday tomorrow and he can’t even think about disappointing her for a second. Knowing that Kibum hasn’t found someone and lying about it, too. It’s too much. He knows he can’t do that.

Kibum glances up and Minho is watching him with carefulness, opening and closing his mouth as if the wrong words might scare Kibum away.

“So, what are you going to do about tomorrow?”

Kibum puts his face in his hands. “I’ll probably just find someone to pretend to be my significant other. Pay them afterwards. I don’t know.”

Minho frowns at him. “Are you going to be comfortable with that?”

“With what?”

“Lying to them? I’ve met Momma a lot of times before, you know, and she’s very sharp despite her age.”

“Maybe?”

“I just told you that she’d probably notice it faster than you can greet her happy birthday.”

Kibum shrugs. “I can try.”

“The one you hire is one thing, but you yourself are another. You’re not exactly easy to predict, especially with those you’ve met for the first time and then pretend to be all lovey dovey with.”

“And?” Kibum squints at him. “What are you implying?”

Minho just stares at him, bored, as if Kibum is too slow to actually get what he’s been trying to hint at. “Me, you idiot.”

“You?” Kibum sits up straighter and truly gawks. Why didn’t he think of this before? He has known Minho for most part of his life. Momma knows him since they were kids. He pretty much thinks they’ve got the part of getting-to-know-your-boyfriend up in check.

Plus, he doesn’t have to pay Minho in cash, just in large installments of food that he can almost hear his wallet crying in pain. And Minho’s got Momma wrapped around his finger with just that smile of his, an advantage for the both of them if ever Momma decides to bring up awkward questions they can’t get out of.

“Why do you sound so surprised? If anything, you should be crying at my feet that the great and handsome Choi Minho decided to rescue you out of this.”

Kibum scoffs. “Handsome? Please.”

Minho leers. “Hey now, I detest that. You had a crush on me in high school.”

Kibum furrows his brows. “What is it with you today that you keep on bringing up my past regrets. It was just a moment of confusion due to the lack of attractive options and being surrounded by snot-nosed idiots.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night.” Minho grins. “Buy me dinner for a whole month, even weekends.”

“Fine. I expected as much.”

Minho stands up and crosses his side of the room to stand near his bed. “Deal then?” He holds up his hand for a shake.

“Really? A handshake? This is not a mafia deal, what is wrong with you.”

“Just so we can make things official and I can add it later to my file cabinet titled: Kim Kibum’s Most Humiliating Moments.”
Kibum stares up at Minho through his lashes, feeling unsettled and every bit ridiculous of what they’re setting themselves up into. “Fine. Deal.”
 

Kibum thinks he has failed to mention enough how much he hates his side of the room in the mornings. He feels the need to express his hatred for it when the sun decides to just shine down on his face and burn his pores first thing in the morning. It’s also a part of his woes that they don’t have curtains, (why don’t they have curtains in the first place?) and more often than not, he finds himself walking across the room to Minho’s bed with his blanket and pillow in his hands.

“Move over.”

Minho grunts but makes space for him, nonetheless. Kibum has suggested one time that they switch sides of the room but Minho declines, says that it’s too much work and that Kibum can just crawl under the covers of Minho’s bed himself. It’s Kibum’s problem, not his. Minho grinned cheekily and Kibum kicked his shin in return.

“More. I’m falling to the edge.”

It’s inhuman, the sounds of Minho’s rumbles, like an elephant with an upset stomach. “Stop talking, it’s too early for your nagging, Kibum.” Then Minho sits up and plants both of his hands at either side of Kibum’s head.

“What the are you doing, Choi.”

“Shut up, Kim. My feet got caught up in the sheets.” Kibum keeps silent as Minho shuffles his feet to free them of its bounds and swings one leg over Kibum’s body.

“What-”

“I told you to shut up. Why are you still talking.”

Kibum is still staring up at him. “Minho, I know you’re deprived and that your last girlfriend just broke up with you two weeks ago but please don’t me.”

Minho opens his eyes and glares. “What are you talking about? I’m letting you take my side of the bed, you moron, now move.”

Huh. Kibum rolls over and Minho settles once again beside him. “This is your pillow, freak. It smells like your drool. Give me back my pillow.”

Minho lifts his head and Kibum takes this as his cue to exchange their respective pillows. “The blanket too, give it to-umph,”

A hand comes up to cover his mouth as Kibum groans. “Shut up. Just shut up, Kibum. It’s not even seven yet.” And then Minho is falling asleep once again, facing his side and Kibum thinks about how much he wants to punch that face. Instead, he feels himself getting drowsy and drawn in by the coolness of the wall and the heat pressed up against his side.

 

It must have been around eight, the second time he wakes up again. He can tell judging by the shadows across the room and it’s usually the time his body rouses from sleep. He’s already feeling sweaty, with Minho’s front pressed against his back, his big heavy arm draped on his stomach. Ah, just like any other morning.

“Minho, get up.” Minho just murmurs and a gush of air tickles along his nape.

It’s then that he remembers that it’s Saturday and it’s Momma’s birthday today. A wicked snicker crosses his face as he plucks Minho’s arm off and sits up. “Wake up, boyfriend, we have a long day ahead of us.”

Minho grunts and rolls to the other side. Which then results in Kibum seeing the other’s shirt hiking up his back. He can see Minho’s pajamas clinging low in his hips and a patch of hair disappearing into his pants. It’s not supposed to be new to him, the sight of Minho’s rumpled clothes and the sliver of tan skin mocking his eyes.

Minho is attractive, very attractive in his honest-to-God opinion. If it weren’t for the other’s ty wit, his undying ability to push all his buttons, and his winning personality, Kibum might still be nursing his crush from high school. But the moment Minho became aware of his feelings back then, it’s just that Kibum is thankful that nothing has changed between them and that Minho continued to treat him like before.  And in Kibum’s part, luckily, his crush wasn’t of complicated angst feelings that it made it easier to get over the other boy and stay as friends.

Which is why the sight doesn’t affect him any longer. If pushing Minho off the bed doesn’t say he isn’t disturbed, he doesn’t know what else does.

“Ow, ! Kibum!”

Minho is now glaring at him from the floor with the sheets covering the lower half of his face. “Get up. We still have to pick up Momma’s present.”

As if remembering the whole fiasco and their agreement yesterday, Minho gets up and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What are you gonna get her?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” Kibum sits on his own bed and checks his phone. “I don’t even know what color she likes.”

Minho, in turn, sits on his beds and ruffles his hair, a yawn threatening to escape. “She likes green.”

“How did you know that?”

“If you just try to sit back and observe sometimes, you tend to notice these things.”

“Really.” Kibum deadpans.

“Her earrings are green, it’s the sort of green that has more yellow than blue.” Minho yawns.

“Minho, you can’t just deduce her favorite color just from her earrings alone.”

“Her favorite socks are also green. Same color.”

Kibum flexes his hands and he can hear his knuckles cracking underneath his skin. “Okay, we’ll get her something green, then. Like turtles or grass."

"Grass? Really?” Minho says, unimpressed, as he walks to the bathroom and pulls the door open.

"I don't know Minho. I have other things occupying my mind right now. Things like how are we even gonna pull this off, or should I just back out, or what am I even doing why are we suddenly in a relationship like this."

Minho is brushing his teeth as Kibum continues to mutter to himself. And thank the heavens that Minho is doing what he's doing right now, having a toothbrush occupying his mouth because he's almost certain that Minho has a ready reply to snark back at him.

"I can't afford to think like this, can I? Fine, thank you for your communicative eyebrows. They have taught me so much."

He grabs his towel from the rack and goes inside the bathroom while Minho is still brushing his teeth. Kibum draws up the curtains as he throws the clothes over the frame and opens the shower. It is then that he hears Minho gurgling and spitting at the sink.

"What kind of party are we going to by the way?"

The ­sound of water splashing against his feet distracts him for a while before answering. "Mom said there's a picnic party at the park near Momma’s house. I can't remember where but I think we can ask around later."

The toilet cover shuts and Kibum can tell that Minho has taken a seat and this will be another round of questions. "What am I going to wear?"

"Anything you're comfortable in, I suppose."

"So if I went with a jersey and shorts, you'd have no objections?"

Kibum can almost hear the laugh in the other's voice. "Don't even think about it. I'll strip you and dress you up myself if I have to. I'm not going with a soccer fanatic as a boyfriend, one roommate is enough."

"Be specific then. Are we going to wear matching clothes?"

"I've seen your wardrobe, there's nothing there that can match with mine."

"So, no coupley stuff?" Minho asks.

Kibum shifts the curtains a little so that only his face is exposed. Minho is honestly asking him, his eyebrows drawn together and a concentrated line set along his lips. "Your bracelet, that silver one you're wearing right now."

Minho glances at his wrist then back at him. "What about it?"

Kibum draws the curtains close again and resumes his bath. "You gave me a similar one five years ago."

Minho laughs. "You remembered."

"Of course I do. You lost the one I gave you and I got mad, then you gave me a new one the next day at school."

"Did you bring it with you?"

"Yeah, I tie it around the inner pocket of my bag. It should be with my wallet and other stuff."

Kibum reaches a hand out and without a word, Minho passes him the bottle of bodywash from the adjacent cabinet. No one speaks and Kibum wonders for a moment whether Minho is still inside. "Minho?"

"Hm?"

"Are you just going to sit there like a ert or wait outside like a good patient doggy?"

"Oh, I'm the ert?" Oh God. Kibum knew that tone. He knew he shouldn't have started this banter in the first place as it would lead to his defeat, as the bickering always goes when it's Minho he's fighting. "Who said not to him this morning? Tsk Kibum, I never knew you thought of me that way."

"Shut up! That was obviously your fault!"

"You secretly liked it, didn't you? Me getting up in your space like that."

For the second time, Kibum draws the curtains. "You, Choi Minho, will shut the up or I will cut off your leg and shove it down your throat."

"Aww, Kibummie's blushing. Look at you, look at how red you are."

"Yeah, look at how red I am when I spill all your blood and drain you dead."

Minho laughs, a loud voice drumming within the confined space as Kibum clenches his hands tighter from anger. "Fine, I'm getting out. I'm drowning in all the loving affection you're giving me."

"Get out."
 

Kibum has come to terms with what he has apparently put himself to and is trying to picture where in the whole plot may things go wrong. So far, all he has thought of is Momma trying to set the two of them up together the whole day and be all touchy and loving and boyfriend-y. There’s also the story of how they got together or how they realized they were in love with each other, an epiphany of some sort. They can always make it up on the road, it’s a two-hour drive after all.

But for now, Kibum is trying to figure out how to dress Minho up to match with his own clothes. The only ones in his closet are plain jeans, plain shirts, plain sweaters, and a whole bunch of plain scarves. Who needs like ten scarves when it’s not even winter yet. Really.

In the end, Kibum took out the cleanest pair of jeans he thinks Minho owns, along with a plain white wife beater and black button up. This will have to do. He just hopes that Minho’s face is enough to beat the dullness that is his wardrobe.

“What are you doing?”

The bathroom door closes and Kibum sits on his bed, eyeing the clothes he just laid out for Minho to wear. “I tried to coordinate your clothes with mine so we could match. I tried.”

Minho looks confused. “You said we didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, well, I checked again if a magical fashion fairy decided to throw your clothes out and replace them with anything that isn’t obviously boring or black. Nope, didn’t happen.”

Minho eyes him then. “And you’re wearing that?”

Kibum looks down, fiddles with the loose threads on his knee. “Why?”

“I can see your arms and half of your legs.” Minho says. “And why are your legs even shaved.”

“It’s none of your damn business.” Kibum glares. “And the whole point of wearing shorts is so that the bottom half of my legs are seen, if it isn’t already obvious by how it’s cut, you stupid moron.”

“You’re not wearing that.” Minho crosses his arm across his bare chest that Kibum remembers that Minho just got out of a bath and is now only clad in the white towel wrapped around his waist.

“Jesus Christ, what are you, my mom? And why are we having this conversation while you’re ? I’m not talking to you while you’re still !”

“No, but I’m your boyfriend for today and I’m not letting you wear that.” Minho says.

Kibum blinks as he lets the words sink in. “Did you just-”

“Yes I did. Now shut up and change or I won’t come with you.”

“Wow, , this changes a lot of things I thought about you for the past years I’ve known you. Or you whoever is in your body and pretending to be you.”

Minho ignores him and proceeds to open Kibum’s closet while the said owner is still sitting and gawking at the offender. “What are you doing now?”

“Here.” Minho tosses him a pair of ripped jeans and their university sweatshirt. An SNU sweatshirt. What the .

“Oh, you’re starting war, Choi. I’m not wearing that.”

Minho stares at him, straight-faced. “Yes, you are. You are not going anywhere showing off your noodle arms.”

“I’m going to meet my whole family and you want me to wear a sweatshirt.”

“What is so wrong with sweatshirts?”

“Oh there’s nothing wrong with them. It’s this particular one that I’m having issues with. It’s so ugly that it’s almostoffending to look at.”

Minho purses his lips as he goes through Kibum’s closet once again and tosses another one. “That one. No complaints from you or I swear to God, I am backing out.”

 

In the end, Kibum had no choice but to change his clothes and actually wear what Minho gave to him. It’s a pretty decent attire, if he says so himself. His jeans are moderately ripped near his knees, and the gray cardigan clung to his torso like a second skin. The fabric is soft and comfortable to be in, Minho should know, he’s the one who gave it as a gift last Christmas and Kibum expected as much.

Kibum didn’t talk to Minho for the whole time they got ready, feeling annoyed that he couldn’t wear the clothes he thought so hard to put together last night. Even the ride down the elevator, Kibum stayed silent and he kept playing with his phone just to have an excuse to not talk.

But as soon as they reached the parking lot, Kibum found himself alone, waiting by Minho’s car. “Here.” A few minutes after, Minho s a cup to his face, Iced Americano, just exactly as how he liked his coffee and like magic, like everything else, the previous argument was forgotten and they were on their way to the mall.

“Pull up the sleeves to your elbows.” Minho says, his fingers tapping the steering wheel as they wait for the red traffic light to turn green.

Kibum turns to look at him. “Why?”

“So the bracelet is seen.” Minho says.

Kibum scoffs. "If only you let me wear my own choice of clothes then we wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place."

"We're going to a family picnic.” And right now, Minho is looking at him like he’s just so dumb to even understand. “You looked like a celebrity going to a freaking airport."

"What is it with you and my clothes? You've seen me wearing them before! Why are you acting so pissy?" Kibum yells.

"Kibum, I am going to explain it in detail just this once so listen. We are going to act as a couple today. You are going to me mine for a day, for one whole day.” Minho resists the urge to slap his palm on his forehead. Kibum can see his patience wearing thin, as if explaining this very answer troubles him deeply. “I don't want to draw people's attention to something that is only mine. Do you understand?"

Kibum tilts his head to the side and he is now honestly confused. "No?"

Minho sighs. "Let's just think of it this way. You chose my clothes and it's only fair I chose yours. Done?"

Kibum is now looking at him up-and-down in the confined space in the car, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You’re the protective and jealous type, aren’t you?”

Minho turns his attention back on the road as the other cars also move with the green signal. “Yes.”

Kibum purses his lips. "Button up then."

"What?"

"If we're really doing this, I also don't want people looking and ogling at you like you're candy.” Kibum taps his fingers on his knees as he watches the outside turn into a blur as they speed past. “That damn wife beater is too clingy. I don’t like it.”

Minho grins.

 

“We’re here.”

“Yes, what superb observation skills you have there.”

“Why aren’t you getting out?”

“I can’t remove the seatbelt?”

Minho sighs exasperatedly. At least Kibum thinks what Minho sounds like as the latter returns in the car and unfastens the belt. “Done. Now why aren’t you still getting out?”

“I don’t want to?”

“Kibum.” It’s dark in the parking lot, but Kibum can already see Minho’s arm crossed against his chest as if he’s dealing with a very stubborn child. A very stubborn Kibum, in this case. “I will drag you.”

“You won’t because you and I know very well how fitting the scratches from my perfectly manicured nails will look like on your dashboard and windows.” Kibum says.

It seems to him that Minho has achieved nirvana level at the art of sighing, because as of late, it’s what Kibum keeps on hearing from the other man. The act itself should be offending, but surprisingly, it makes him more and more pleased knowing that it was him who drives Minho to this point of insanity. “Can I shoot you? Please tell me I can shoot you.”

Kibum opens the door on his side and sees Minho waiting for him outside. “No, you can’t. Think about the millions who will mourn for my loss.”

Minho raises an eyebrow at him. “Why are you being so difficult? I thought we had an agreement just minutes ago.”

“That’s so easy for you to say. She’s not your grandma and she’s not withholding pie from you. Have you tasted her pie? It’s like an exploded in my mouth.”

Vulgar, he knows, but they’ve been in each other’s personal spaces countless number of times before. And it’s not like these jokes are new between them. The sheer look of shock on Minho’s face every single time was worth it, though. “You- What- God Kibum, I know we’re friends but I didn’t need to know what sorts of things you’ve apparently put into your mouth.”

“The act doesn’t suit you.” Kibum steps out of the car and leans against the side. “Besides, the both of us haven’t been s since two years ago, if you’ve already forgotten.”

Minho stills, bringing a hand up to massage and pinch his temples. “Why are we still talking about this? I was just asking you to get the hell out and it has already come to this.”

Kibum sighs. It’s very contagious, sue him. “I don’t want to get out because after we’re done picking presents we’re going to drive down to Momma’s place then I’m going to live in this nightmare of a lie then she’s going to find out then she’s going to super-glare me into submission until I bleed shame out of every possible orifice.”

A hint of fear takes over his mind and the next thing Kibum knew, he’s slumping on the side of Minho’s car. Who the hell is he kidding, anyway? Surely, they can’t pull this off. Maybe he should just say that he and his imaginary boyfriend broke up last night because of the same damn reason as what the real exes tell him. It’s always the same excuse that it’s not him, but it’s actually them who has the problem. And somehow, somewhere along the argument, Minho’s name will always be thrown in. There will always be ‘Minho’ and ‘second-place against him’ mixed in the same sentence. Then afterwards, Kibum ends up confused and alone and hurt.

“She won’t.” Minho says. It was so quiet and subtle that Kibum thinks that it was a product of his imagination. “But if we’re hoping for even the slightest chance of pulling this off, you're going to have to work with me here. Okay?”

Kibum looks up and sees Minho’s palm upturned and offered to him. Kibum just stares at it blankly before asking. “What are you doing?”

“Are you sure you’ve dated before?” Minho rolls his eyes. “This is my hand requesting for yours so we can practice how to hold them together without sweating so much.”

Kibum takes the proposition and Minho smiles at him. “That is actually disgusting and fyi, I will let go the moment I feel the slightest hint of anything wet."

Minho glances between them as they walk to the elevator. “This doesn’t look like we’re lovers. I look like I’m bringing some kid with me.”

“That is just insulting. Why am I the kid?” Kibum asks.

Minho ignores him in favor of loosening the grip, and Kibum can feel their wrists brush as Minho laces their fingers together instead. “There.”

The elevator dings and Kibum is confused. Minho keeps on avoiding his eyes while Kibum tries to catch the other’s gaze on the elevator walls. When their eyes meet seconds later, Kibum looks away and tries to cover up the mutual embarrassment with a laugh. “Okay. This is. Awkward.”

“Yep.”

“So Awkward.”

“Yep.”

“So ing awkward that we should just reserve all this touching for later, when, you know, there are actual people that we need to convince, not when we’re stuck in a small space and we can’t look each other in the eye.”

Why is the is this elevator ride taking so long? Minho still isn’t saying anything and Kibum takes it as his cue to loosen their palms. But the moment he does so, Minho just tightens his grip and clears his throat. “Focus, Kibum. We’re practicing. ”

"Okay. Practicing. Got it." Oh God.
 

Kibum knows he's not imagining things and he's a hundred percent sure that it's the second time that they have passed this particular store. It's the same mannequin with the ugly top and an even uglier pair of shoes.

"We've been here before."

Kibum pauses in his tracks and Minho follows, being pulled back by their hands still intertwined. "Are you sure?"

Kibum raises an eyebrow at him. It's not like Minho to not pay attention to his surroundings. He's a soccer player for crying out loud; it's programmed in his head to be subconsiously aware of everything. "Yes. And are you all right? Did your mind wander too much? Haha. Get it? Mind? Wander? Okay, shutting up."

Minho blinks at him and Kibum frowns as the other starts laughing. Minho's thumb keeps on rubbing his and it's bringing up tingles from his arm to his neck. He's not quite sure of what to make out of the said tingles yet.

"You're ridiculous."

"Thanks." Kibum rolls his eyes. "It's been half an hour already and all we've done is get distracted by puppies and walk around in circles."

"You're the one who decided to stroll about and survey the area first."

"Yeah, well, you're the one with the ridiculous long legs and if you walked a little slower then maybe I had the time to really look a bit more." There's the sound of giggling from his right and Kibum looks at the crowd of girls unsubtly staring at them. "Minho."

"Hm?" Minho asks.

"Those girls," Kibum tilts his head. "They're looking at you."

Minho looks at them blankly then back at him. "So?"

Kibum scrunches his brows. Normally, Minho would walk up to them and ask for the prettiest one's number. Not now, though. "You're not going?"

Minho just stares at him and Kibum can feel the mild tightening of Minho's grip. Minho lifts their interwined hands together and waves it in the direction of the giggling girls. "I'm your boyfriend. Why are you giving me away to them?"

Kibum squints. "Right."

“So,” Minho coughs, an obvious attempt to change the topic, before proceeding to tug at his hand and continuing to walk. “What are we gonna get her?”

“I have no idea.”

“Momma likes sweets, I think.” Minho says.

Kibum hums. “Yeah, I remember those fruit-flavored candies from that store three blocks down your house.”

“We can get her something similar, then.”

Kibum abruptly stops which resulted in some people crashing against his back. Minho apologizes and pulls him to the side. “Are you stupid? She’s old.”

“So what if she’s old?”

“She’s turning seventy. What if she gets diabetes or toothaches? That second one, well, I’m not sure if all her teeth are real or just dentures.”

Minho laughs. “Her teeth are fake. She showed them to you once, when we were younger, then you cried and had nightmares about teeth monsters chasing and chewing your arm.”

“Why do you remember all of that?” Kibum asks.

“It’s my job to embarrass you, so I keep them in mind just in case.”

“You are a horrible, horrible person. Remind me to never cross you.”

Just then, Kibum’s phone rings and Minho takes back his hand. Kibum tells himself it’s because his phone is in his right pocket and Minho is holding his right hand, not because they both felt uncomfortable at how close they were standing in the first place. Minho turns away instead to lean on the railings and watch the swarm of people on the first floor.

“Hi mom.”

“Bummie, where are you? Your Momma’s looking for you.”

“Chill mom, it’s only ten in the morning. Her party starts at one.”

“She keeps on asking me about you, and hold on, here she comes-” There’s the sound of shuffling on the other line as Kibum takes a deep breath. Minho notices and he mouths. Are you okay? Kibum shakes his head and mouths back, It’s Momma.

“Bum-bummie!”

“H-hey Momma.”

“What’s taking you so long, Bummie-ah? I expected you to be here with your parents. Where are you?”

“At the mall. We’re picking a present for you, Momma.”

“We? Oh, I see.” Momma laughs. Kibum feels like there’s something wrong with it or he’s just being extremely paranoid. Either way, it makes him squeamish and instinctively, Kibum finds himself reaching out for Minho’s hand while the other holds his phone against his ear. “Anyway, you don’t have to give me anything dear. Just you being here is enough for me.”

“But still, Momma, we-I can’t show up there empty handed.”

“Get me macarons, then. I like the green tea ones. Maybe not the chewing part but I’ll get by.” Momma laughs again and it makes Kibum smile. “I’ll see you soon, dearie. Hurry now. Be safe.”

“Yes, Momma. See you.”

Kibum stares at the screen of his phone and lets out the deep breath he didn’t knew he held in. Something’s tugging at his right hand and he sees Minho’s arm connected to the thing. Oh, right.

“You okay?” Minho asks.

“Nope.” Kibum makes sure to pop the ‘p’ at the end to emphasize his already obvious lack of excitement on the matter at hand.

“Don’t worry.” Minho tells him as he tugs Kibum away again and starts checking the displays of the passing stores. “I’ll just dazzle her with my face of she asks uncomfortable and awkward questions.”

Kibum faces him. “What questions?”

Minho awkwardly rubs his nape. “You know..”

“Um, no I don’t?”

As of this moment, Kibum thinks he has never seen Minho’s face get as red. Plus, Minho’s face is angled away from his sight, which only emphasizes how red the tips of his ears are. He thinks he can hear Minho reply but it’s all drowned out by the surrounding noise and by how soft the mumble is.

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

“I said.” Minho looks at his feet. “If she asks things about and stuff.”

Kibum looks at him weirdly and laughs out loud. “Uh, no. I don’t think she’ll do that.”

“She will. She’s your grandmother, it’s practically a guarantee.”

“No, it’s not. What are you even talking about right now? Because I will let you know that I am very offended on Momma’s behalf.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “We both know from which member of your family you got your inappropriate straightforwardness from. Surprise, it’s not your parents.”

“Huh.” Kibum ponders for a moment. “Then if she does, it’s painfully obvious that I top.”

Minho laughs. “Yeah, right. When you're riding me, maybe.”

Kibum gapes. “Just because you’re more ripped and athletic and have stronger thighs doesn’t mean you can just assume I would let you me.”

“Well, twinks don’t get their roles for nothing.”

Kibum glares. “Evidence being what? ? Also, I refuse to acknowledge the fact that you just called me a .”

Minho grins. “And you’re not because?”

Kibum looks down at the nonexistent bulk of his arms and his flat stomach. He frowns even more as he assesses his legs. “My thighs are as thick as yours, you bastard.”

“Must be very convenient when you assume the position.”

Minho keeps on grinning at him, with no trace of malice whatsoever despite the current status of their conversation. At the back of his mind, he thinks Minho’s just intentionally trying to push all his buttons and the realization makes him annoyed even more.

“Of lubing up your ?” Kibum innocently bats his eyes.

Minho smirks. “Right. Because someone like you, with lots and lots of stamina, can top me.”

Kibum can feel his face scrunching up. “Well, even if that wasn’t the case, I bet your won’t even last two minutes.”

“And you are so sure of this because?”

Kibum preens. “Pattern from experience.”

Minho smiles and leans down until their faces are just millimeters apart. “Except that I’m not part of that experience, am I?” Kibum can almost feel Minho’s wisps of breath hit his face and he can feel a flush run from his nape to the top of his cheeks. Stupid attractive face.

Kibum glares. “I hate you.”

“Love you too, Kibum.”