TaeKey Fanfiction

Taemin watches from the couch as Kibum walks through the front door. He has his knees tucked up to his chest and one of Kibum’s hoodies pulled over them (because it’s cold and he’s cold and Kibum’s hoodies are always so much bigger and cozier).

“Hi.”

“Hey babe!” Kibum calls, putting his bag down and hanging up his coat. “How was your day?”

“Boring,” Taemin mumbles, still watching as Kibum goes to look through the fridge. “I ordered dinner. How was NCT?”

“Oh, what did you order?”

“Thai food,” Taemin says. “How was NCT?”

Kibum brings over a couple beers and sits on the couch with him, handing him one.

“They’re cute and eager to learn quickly. Their choreo is really coming along!”

Taemin holds the rim of the beer to his lips, and he stares at Kibum. Kibum, however, just starts talking about all the different members and who’s learning quickest and who’s the funniest at attempting certain moves. After three whole minutes, Kibum finally notices that Taemin is essentially pouting at him.

“What?” he laughs.

“You’re not giving them better choreo than you give me, are you?”

It makes Kibum burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. That just makes Taemin pout more. Then the doorbell rings, and Taemin huffs and stomps from the couch to go get their dinner. It’s when Taemin is plating up their dinner in the kitchen that Kibum comes over, still chuckling, and wraps his arms around Taemin from the back, kissing the back of his neck.

“I only give my best choreo to you,” Kibum says, his breath tickling Taemin’s ear.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Kibum says, squeezing Taemin tight. “But you know what I save my absolute best moves for?”

“Hm?”

“Why don’t you follow me to the bedroom and find out?”

Taemin turns then, an unimpressed frown on his face. Then he takes a chopstick and taps it against the takeout container.

“Maybe after dinner,” he says, turning back to dumping Pad Thai in a bowl. “I’m starving.”

Kibum just laughs and buries his face in Taemin’s shoulder. Once Taemin’s hands are free, Kibum takes Taemin and twirls him around and dips him, making Taemin laugh loudly and wrap his arms around Kibum’s neck.

“Stop!” he laughs. “Seriously! I’m hungry!”

Kibum is still smirking, but he pulls Taemin up and helps him take their dinner over to the couch. They put on a silly kids movie, and just talk about their day together.

Taemin’s favorite way to hold hands with Kibum is to just link their pinky fingers together. He doesn’t know why he does it, or why it feels so much more intimate than fully holding hands, but it just makes him feel warm and fuzzy. Sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s done it, he’ll just be walking with Kibum and suddenly realize their pinkies are linked.

Kibum thinks it’s adorable. It’s one of the sweetest things Taemin does, and his heart always flutters a little bit when he feels Taemin’s pinky latch onto his.

They don’t really hold hands in public often, afraid of paparazzi or fans snapping pictures and asking too many questions. It makes it that much sweeter when Taemin does initiate the hand holding, and it really makes Kibum feel special.

It was supposed to just be a documentary on various SM artists, and on the way the company runs in general. It was some sort of special anniversary thing, Taemin didn’t really know exactly. All he knew was that he had a small interview about his debut and his growth in the company and film a couple scenes learning some new choreography and recording songs and blah blah blah. Standard shit. Taemin wasn’t fazed.

Until months later when it was released and he was sitting at the premiere with so many labelmates and general employees and the press and even the damn CEO and there, on the big screen, is Kibum kissing his neck and tugging him close and Taemin himself giggling and trying to tug himself away, only to sneak a kiss on Kibum’s lips just moments later.

Apparently, secret relationships were a big part of this documentary. An unplanned addition. An unannounced plan that the director had as a way of exposing idol dating culture. Something that got no approval from those in charge of running this entire project, so pretty much everyone was shocked and confused and angry.

There were several other relationships outed as well, but Taemin felt frozen in his seat after his was finished playing out. So many people were looking at him, staring at him, whispering about him, and Kibum wasn’t even there that night and Taemin felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Let’s go,” Jinki, his manager, whispers to him. And he pulls Taemin up and ushers him out of the theater, out of the building, and into a van all while shielding Taemin as best he can from various flashing cameras and nosy reporters who want to know why he (and several other idols) are leaving so soon.

Taemin is 24. He’s 24 and he’s been an idol for ten years and he’s been dating Kibum for five years but he has no idea what to do. This is his entire life that’s just been potentially ruined by a single director with an agenda of outing idol relationships. His whole life is about to be turned upside down, he could lose his job, his fans, everything because of one person.

“It will be okay,” Jinki tells him. “They’re already no doubt figuring out how to damage control. No one else will ever see that movie. Everything will be okay.”

“No it won’t,” he chokes, staring straight out the window and not moving. “Everyone’s gonna hate me.”

“No they won’t.”

“Yes they will!” Taemin screams, his head snapping abruptly to turn to Jinki. “I have to be perfect! And not being single makes me not perfect! Dating a dude makes me not perfect!”

“Life is not about obtaining perfection,” Jinki tells, his voice firm. “You work your body to the point of pure exhaustion, mentally and physically, trying to achieve something that’s impossible. Your fans love you because you’re you. Because they like your music and your personality and your dancing. Real fans won’t give a shit who you’re dating so long as they make you happy.”

Taemin doesn’t say anything for a while, instead going back to staring straight ahead. Jinki ends up walking Taemin up to his house, making even helping him over to the couch. Taemin is completely dazed, and it’s really worrying.

“I’ve worked so hard,” Taemin eventually says in a strangled voice. “For practically my whole life, I’ve worked so, so hard to be good at this. And it’s all ruined.”

He’s panicking and tears are spilling from his eyes and Jinki just sits next to him and holds him close. He’s been Taemin’s manager since he debuted, he knew exactly when Taemin started Kibum, he’s been there for everything Taemin’s ever had to go through. But this is by far hitting Taemin the hardest.

But of course it is. It’s a blatant invasion of privacy, and it really does have the potential to ruin Taemin’s career. Jinki won’t let it, of course, but that doesn’t mean the possibility can’t scare Taemin.

Jinki rarely sees Taemin cry, and this is by far the most he’s ever seen Taemin cry so desperately. Jinki sits with him for hours, consoling him, comforting him.

When Kibum comes home later that night from teaching a dance workshop, he freaks out over seeing a crying, distraught Taemin being held by his manager.

“What happened?” Kibum asks, rushing over. “Did someone get hurt? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Jinki has to tell him, because Taemin can’t quite form a coherent sentence.

Kibum is pissed. He’s angry and pissed off and he wants to do something about it, but he decides the best thing to do right now is just help Taemin calm down.

“I’m gonna go,” Jinki says after Taemin finally starts breathing normally again. “I’ll text you any updates on the situation. Just try to lay low for now.”

For the next three days, Taemin barely leaves the bed. He doesn’t answer calls, he doesn’t go online, he barely even looks at his phone. He just stays in bed either staring out the window, sleeping, or watching old kids movies.

Kibum stays with him as much as he can, tries to help him feel some sort of comfort. But they don’t really talk much. He’s never seen Taemin retreat into himself as much or as drastically as this.

“I’m gonna go get us something to eat,” Kibum says gently after a couple days. “Do you want anything specific.”

“Not hungry.”

He’s barely eaten anything if Kibum hasn’t practically forced him.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” Kibum says. “Maybe try showering before I get back?”

“Kay.”

He probably won’t. Kibum knows he probably won’t.

While the incident has been in a few gossip columns, it’s been effectively buried by the company. It could have potentially ruined several of their most popular artists, it wasn’t something they were going to let get out there. Really, they said the documentary was highly fabricated by the director, that it was entirely unreliable and fictional, and that’s enough to appease the general public and fans alike.

Although many fans know the dating rumors are true. Most of them don’t care. Taemin’s fans in particular have known about Taemin and Kibum for years, but they’ve never been bothered by it. So long as Taemin is happy, that’s all they care about.

But Taemin is clearly unhappy during this time. The photos and videos of him leaving the original viewing very clearly show him upset and panicked. He’s been MIA for over a week since then, and even Kibum’s Instagram and online presence has severely declined in activity. He posted from the dance workshop that was held the same night, but nothing since then. It’s very worrying, especially since Kibum usually posts at least once a day, if not more.

It’s not until Minho, an actor and frequent variety show guest, finally speaks up about it that Taemin realizes maybe it won’t be the end of the world.

“We might be in the public eye, but we’re still people,” Minho says. “And to put these relationships on blast and just out all these relationships as what? A power move? Is just so reprehensible. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not, you’re actively trying to ruin someone’s career because you think idols dating should be talked about more. But that just opens us up to more potential for hate by non-fans. And seeing so much hate does a lot more damage to a person’s health than you think it would.”

Minho, although not technically an idol, is an actor under SM. And his relationship with a stylist within the company was shown as well.

But seeing that Minho is okay, that he’s still out there doing his job and his life isn’t crumbling around him - that helps Taemin realize his career isn’t over because of one potential scandal.

Taemin is back to his usual self after a couple weeks. He’s still nervous and afraid of backlash, but he tries his best to just be happy in the moment. Plus, it helps that Kibum is so supportive.

After almost two weeks of complete silence from both of them, a fun video of Taemin learning new choreography is uploaded to Kibum’s Instagram. They’re in a company practice room, and Taemin comes out of a spin giggling, a little dizzy, and falling over to make funny faces at Kibum. Five minutes later, Taemin posts a mirror selfie in the same room with Kibum standing right next to him, an arm wrapped around his waist.

Somehow, after almost having their relationship exposed to the public, Taemin becomes almost more cofindent in being very coupley with Kibum in public. He’s more confident about holding hands, going on dates, and being close together. It’s almost as if, because so many people responded so positively, it gave him the encouragement to be comfortable in public. And Kibum has always said he would follow Taemin’s lead on how they would handle revealing their relationship to the public.

So when Taemin starts suggesting more obvious date ideas, like going to wine tastings and movie premiers and romantic dinner dates, it makes Kibum want to press him against the kitchen counter and ravish him. He loves seeing Taemin so confident in himself. It’s such a turn on.

And Taemin getting a bit tipsy at a wine tasting is definitely a little risky. Taemin always gets handsy after a few drinks, and he becomes quite clingy with Kibum as their tasting progresses. His face is flushed and he’s giggling and Kibum can’t help but press close to him as well, tracing patterns on the back of Taemin’s hand as he listens to Taemin rave about the rosé they just tried.

“Did you eat anything yet today?” Kibum asks, watching Taemin blink his eyes longer than usual.

“Nope!” Taemin laughs. “Wanted to feel all the wine.”

“Babe,” Kibum laughs, pulling Taemin close. “That’s not good.”

“It’s okay, you’re driving.”

“Not the point.” Kibum is laughing, holding Taemin close. “Do you want to go get dinner?”

Taemin hums and lays his head on Kibum’s shoulder.

“Let’s get takeout,” Taemin says softly. “I’m tired.”

“Because you drank too much,” Kibum laughs.

They wander around the winery for a bit, Taemin holding tightly to both of Kibum’s hands, and then wrapping his arms around Kibum’s neck.

“Isn’t this place romantic?” Taemin asks, sighing and swaying and looking around. “Look at all the lights! They’re so pretty.”

“Not prettier than you,” Kibum teases.

“They twinkle like little stars,” Taemin mutters, staring up at the lights and ignoring that Kibum called him pretty.

But then Kibum leans over and places a peck of a kiss on Taemin’s lips, and Taemin scrunches up his face and giggles and smiles at Kibum, moving to give him a quick kiss back.

“I love you,” Kibum whispers.

“I love you, too.”

Then Kibum twirls Taemin around, makes them both laugh, and then guides Taemin back to the car.

So many people know about Taemin and Kibum dating, including several variety show hosts and members, but every time Taemin guests on one of those shows, it’s never brought up. It’s something Taemin really appreciates, and even his fans appreciate it.

Taemin and Kibum haven’t come out and announced that they’re officially a couple. While it’s fairly obvious that they’re together, it’s still technically a secret. And everyone seems to respect that.

Taemin has no clue why. He’s nervous on several occasions that it will be brought up, but Kibum always assures him no one will bug him about it.

“How do you know?” Taemin huffs, looking through his schedule for the day.

“Because no one wants you to be upset,” Kibum says, hugging Taemin from behind and peeking at the schedule in Taemin’s hands. “You’re like, everyone’s baby brother. Everyone just wants to protect you.”

“I’m trying to get away from that image you know,” Taemin says in a snappy voice. He’s not a little teenager anymore, and he wants people to stop treating him like he is.

“I know,” Kibum laughs, nuzzling his face in Taemin’s neck. “But for once, it’s benefitting you. Just don’t question it.”

It’s basically a known secret that Kibum and Taemin are together. Fans notice almost immediately when Kibum moves in with Taemin, mainly because a few posts on Instagram and a couple Instalives of Kibum’s are obviously from Taemin’s living room. Whenever someone comments on it, Kibum just says, “Oh yeah, I’ve moved from my apartment! Great new place, huh?” But he never outright says its Taemin’s house. Or that they’re living together.

Although at one point, Taemin does walk around in the back of one of Kibum’s lives because he didn’t realize it was happening. He had just woken up and had terrible bedhead and was wearing pajamas, and he was just shuffling around trying to get coffee from the kitchen.

“G’morning,” he mumbles, picking out his favorite mug.

“It’s 2pm, babe,” Kibum calls, laughing a bit. But then he realizes he said it in camera, and he tries to laugh it off, and quickly ends the live after a rushed goodbye.

But it never exactly becomes a scandal, mainly because Taemin’s fans are just happy with the idea of him being in a happy relationship.

Gwiboon couldn’t believe her eyes. Surely this was some kind of dream.

Her family had owned the house by the lake for many years. She would visit every summer since she was ten, learning to swim and balance herself on the water skis in these very depths. This is where she’d found her love for water. This is where she’d met her first boyfriend, had her first romance, learnt the full extent of happiness and sadness. This quiet and beautiful lake was the place that held all her dearest memories.

She never would’ve guessed there was something like this creature living under the surface.

As she lay sprawled on the shore of the islet, her diving gear in disarray and her hair sticking to her forehead, it advanced towards her. Gwiboon squirmed away but she didn’t scream. Not yet. There was no aggression in the animal’s movements. There was no threat in its black eyes or in the rattling sounds its little mouth-like orifice produced. If anything, it looked curious. It looked like it wanted to get a closer look. 

Gwiboon wasn’t scared by it, she told herself. She wasn’t scared at all, but she’d rather not let it reach her or touch her.

He follows the address he’s given. It takes a while, and when he gets off the train–the last train of the day–he knows there’s no going back. He can’t renege now, he has to keep going. He has to keep walking. He can’t stop. He can’t turn around. He cannot stop.

At the main door of the apartment building, he checks the address one more time before switching off his phone for the night.

The man is silent when he opens the door, silent when he steps aside to let Kibum in. His apartment is silent too. A desk is stacked heavy with engineering books, a kitchen shelf is loaded with instant noodle packets, a window sill is crowded with birthday cards. It is messy, but it is quiet. It is heaving, but it is noiseless. As if disaster has raged across its length and left everything broken in its wake.

“So we’re doing this?” Kibum prompts when the door shuts behind him.

If Jinki is an immovable object that could never be broken, never be reduced–if Jinki felt solid like a rock, Kibum was an all-engulfing river. In his arms, Taeyeon felt small and quiet. He flooded around her, washed away all her disquiet, cut into her cold and unyielding facade to make her anew. She felt like she belonged between his fluid and powerful hold, incapable of even the thought of escape. If Jinki was the blue Earth, Kibum was the frozen ocean under Mars’ desert.

In all the years they’d been together, he had never once loved her the way he did that night. Like everything he did was a quiet goodbye, a wordless don’t leave me. Like every silence was a plea, to stay, to not give up on him. His every kiss was made of love, his every gasp and grunt was built with the bricks of love. His sighs were the temperature of love and the strength behind his hips matched that of love. He loved her like he would never see her again, like she was a grain of sand slipping out of his tight hold. The tighter he held her, the quicker she slipped.

[ dry ] your muse drying mine off with a towel after a shower , bath , swimming , etc. 

● ● ●  “Come here.” Key muttered as he reached out to the other man and pulled him out of the shower. Putting a bathrobe on the other, very careful as he guided the others’ arms into the sleeves and kissing the hot and warm skin of the other before it disappeared into the fuzzy fabrics. He was feeling lazy after sex, snuggling against the other in the steamy bathroom, both only wearing bathrobes. He laughed as he put a towel on the other’s head and started drying his hair lovingly. “You smell like me now.” He said as he sat down on the closet toilet and pulled the other onto his lap. “People are going to know we showered together.” He leaned his chin on the others’ shoulder and pulled down the collar of the robe. “They’re also going to know I gave you hickeys if you don’t wear a turtle neck.”

Taekey

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

~1800 words

Taemin gives his number to the hot guy that comes in to the coffee shop he works in, but the dude ends up giving it to his best friend instead.

There was stickiness in the air and he wiped his brow, sliding the takeaway cup across the counter to the silent man on the other side, rolling his eyes as he left without a single word.

“Has Lover Boy been in yet?” he heard to his left, where his colleague Minho was leant against the door, a friendly smile on his face. Minho was the kind of asshole that loved this kind of weather and in all honesty Taemin kind of hated him for it.

There were many reasons to hate Minho, and Taemin would often list them as he ‘artistically’ laid out their selections of pastries (it was artistic in Taemin’s eyes but someone else always had to go back and rearrange them so that they looked less like some sort of surrealist painting and more like a pastry display). Minho was sporty, for one, and Taemin could barely walk up a flight of stairs without taking a breather on the fifth step, and he was tall and handsome and had a lovely sense of humour and was nice to everyone he met. He also had his love life completely sorted; he had been with his girlfriend for longer than Taemin had been able to ride a bike (he had, admittedly, learnt how to ride a bike at a considerably older age than most people).

Love life wise, Taemin was less successful. He blamed it on Minho, obviously. There was no logical reason to blame it on Minho but he did, because Minho just happened to be there every time Lover Boy came in, so clearly it was Minho’s fault that they weren’t currently romantically involved. Clearly.

Taemin sighed and glared at Minho.

“No, he hasn’t,” he muttered, and Minho cooed back at him.

“Aw, Tae, I’m sure he’ll come and visit you soon.” Taemin only sent him a glare, busying himself with a group of young girls looking at the pastry selection. “You should give him your number,” Minho continued, ignoring the customers, knowing Taemin was still listening, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

Taemin sighed as he counted the girls’ change and handed it over.

“He could beat me up?” he answered, “I know you’re straight and everything but it’s not as easy as just walking up to someone and giving them your number, there are people that hate us Minho.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t, didn’t you say he was wearing an LGBT Society T-Shirt last time he came in?”

“Stop being such a clever little shit, Minho.” Minho scoffed.

“You’re just being a wuss,” he challenged, “you know what, I bet you ten dollars that you won’t write your number on his coffee when he comes in today.”

Taemin’s eyes squinted, Minho was a bastard. He knew that Taemin could never turn down a bet, he knew it. Maybe it was time for him to get a new job, one where his co-workers knew less about him. Yes, that was a good idea.

“Fine,” he spat, clearly not happy with the turn of events.

“Great,” Minho grinned, this never-ending bundle of happiness. Taemin hated him. Minho glanced towards the door and then back to Taemin, “good timing, Lover Boy’s here.”

Taemin span around so quickly that he almost pulled a muscle in his neck, then brushed his hands down the front of his uniform. Fuck, why hadn’t he ironed it this morning, he chastised himself, remembering how he had woken up five minutes before his shift was meant to start. He had made it in just in time, in what he could only really call a miraculous turn of events and probably Olympic speed athletics skills.

Lover Boy was chatting to a friend outside, his douchey cap on backwards, before he came through the doors and fuck he was so hot. Taemin heard Minho chuckle beside him and cleared his throat. He was a lot shorter than Taemin’s usual type but fuck those muscles made up for it tenfold.

“Hi,” he started, sounding out of breath and a little wheezy, before clearing his throat and trying not to act like he thought the sun shined out of this dude’s ass, “how can I help you today?”

Behind him Minho had, in what was probably his most annoying turn yet, begun to sing along to an annoying chart song, replacing all of the lyrics with “ten dollars, ten dollarssssssss.”

“Er, two strawberry lemonades please,” Hot Dude replied and grinned, “bit too hot for coffee,” he added, and Taemin smiled, blinded for a moment. Snapping out of it he glanced down to the cash register and meekly asked for the cost, not feeling remotely disgusted when Hot Dude handed over a bunch of sweaty coins and notes.

“Er, name?” Taemin asked as he grabbed two plastic take-out cups and the strawberry juice. Jonghyun looked confused, “to … er, to write on the cups.”

“Oh,” Jonghyun grinned, moving aside as Minho took over on the cash register, “Kibum,” he grinned, running a hand through white blond hair, “and Jonghyun.”

Taemin busied himself with the lemonade; ignoring the pokes Minho would send his way every few seconds. He growled at him as the blender mixed the juices together, throwing a cautionary glance to the Hot Dude, who could barely be seen over the top of the ledge. Damn he was short. Short but hot. Taemin kinda dug it.

Minho was sending him these knowing looks from over at the cash register, a fan of ten-dollar bills in his hand as he fanned himself. Taemin hated him.

He didn’t know what pushed him to do it, but he bit the bullet. Maybe it was the temptation of $10, maybe it was because Lover Boy was really really hot and Taemin kinda had the biggest crush on him ever, despite only ever talking to him to take his order. Suddenly, however, he found himself scribbling his number on the plastic cup nearest him, with a little ‘text me ;)’ that had sort of killed him inside to write. He was never going to be smooth; he didn’t know why he tried.

Grinning, he pushed the two cups over to Lover Boy, saddened when he didn’t notice the number, glancing up from his phone briefly to grab the two cups before wandering out, the soles of his trainers squeaking on the floor.

“I believe this is yours,” Minho bowed at him in some fake imitation of politeness, pushing a $10 bill into his hand. Worst-case scenario, he had $10.

With Minho’s heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder, Taemin reluctantly went back to work, a fluttery nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Taemin would be lying if he were to say that he hadn’t been checking his phone every ten minutes for the entirety of his shift, but it wasn’t until later that evening that Taemin finally received a message, under the flashing title ‘unknown number’ and his stomach lurched.

hey, he read, it’s kibum from the coffee shop. you gave me ur no?

Taemin’s fingers didn’t appear to be working in his favour and it took his several attempts to type out his response.

er hi haha i hope you didn’t think it was creepy?? my friend just got sick of me creeping on you and bet me i wouldn’t give u my no

He sent it before thinking too much and then panicking.

actually telling you that probably doesn’t make me seem less creepy :’( i promise im not creepy

hahaha, the reply came, it’s cool! what’s ur name?? u didn’t put it on the cup?

Oh. God, he really couldn’t do the smooth thing at all could he?

it’s taemin, haha sorry im not really?? used to giving guys my no u were the first actually haha

ur cute, the reply came, ur not using your cliché teen job to get guys?? i guess i shud b honoured

Getting to know someone via text messaging was annoying, Taemin found. It was really restricting, and often Kibum would say things that he meant to be funny and Taemin just wouldn’t get it, or vice versa, but he managed to keep the conversation up. Kibum was a couple of years above Taemin, and would be starting his final year of university after the summer, weirdly enough at the same university Taemin was enrolled to start at. (He didn’t like to think of it as a sign but Minho had been adamant that it was one and Minho was one of the most rational people he knew so Taemin found himself believing it too.) He was in the university choir, and the dance club, and he had an unhealthy obsession with Instagram (Taemin had been too nervous to ask for it and had searched high and low but couldn’t find it). He lived in a shared dorm with an older friend of his called Jinki, who was working at the university as a TA whilst finishing his PhD, Jinki’s boyfriend Jonghyun, and his two dogs, who had weird French names that Taemin could never remember.

It felt like the next natural step to call Kibum, so he found himself doing so after a brief text conversation in which Kibum ranted about how bored he was. The voice that answered was tired, and Taemin blushed, imagining Kibum all snuggled up in bed.

“Hey, what have I done to deserve this random phone call?” There was a deep laugh and Taemin almost choked. Fuck, even his voice was perfect.

“I just thought,” he mumbled, playing with the hem of his t-shirt, “I dunno, texts are so much of a hassle and –“

“Oh so talking to me is a hassle,” Taemin heard the teasing lilt but still found himself jumping to defend himself.

“No! I love talking to you, it’s just-“

“I was joking,” Kibum chuckled, and Taemin could hear him faffing about with something over the other end of the phone.

They ended up talking for hours, about the city, about their friends, their family, funny stories and memories. Kibum told him a lot about the university, the buildings and what to expect, and Taemin talked about how terrified he was to move away from home, to move to a newer, bigger city, with so many people he didn’t know.

“It’s so beautiful in autumn though,” Kibum muttered, sleepily, as they discussed the campus, “have you seen my Instagrams of it? They have these massive trees and all of the leaves turn the colours of fire and it’s beautiful.”

“I, er…” Taemin found himself blushing, “I couldn’t find your Instagram. I looked for so long but maybe I’m just shit at the whole Internet stalking thing.”

“You’re clearly rubbish at Internet stalking, I found yours weeks ago,” he chuckled and then commented, “cute teddy bear collection by the way.” Taemin scoffed. “You could have just asked me for it,” Kibum teased after laughing, “it’s bumkeyk,” he continued. Taemin found himself typing it into this search bar, knowing it was probably not a good idea to search for it whilst still on the phone with Kibum, but when it loaded he was only confused.

None of the pictures were Kibum, or at least not his Kibum. They were all another guy, tall and lean, with perfect skin and a cute button nose, the prettiest eyes and pouty lips. He was gorgeous, like, incredibly gorgeous, like, shit how the fuck is that humanly possible gorgeous, and Taemin was taken aback.

There were no pictures of the guy from the café though, not at least until he scrolled down at little and found one with him and the pretty guy together, another Instagram account linked in the caption - jonghyun.948, and damn, that was the guy, that was Lover Boy. Shit.

Taemin hung up soon after that. Kibum had figured out something was wrong and kept asking if he was okay, so he muttered something about being tired and having to go, and hung up.

He didn’t want to be an arse, because Kibum was hot, he had just been so fixated on him being someone else that he didn’t really know what to do with himself for a while. He sighed, glancing at Jonghyun’s Instagram profile, and it just felt foreign. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was nothing there. Sure he was hot, but that was it, but when he clicked over to Kibum’s profile it was Kibum and he found himself clicking through photo to photo for hours until he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He’d managed to get back through at least fifty different hair colour changes but he couldn’t stop.

Suddenly he was glad that this guy hadn’t come into the coffee shop because there was 0% chance he would have been able to keep his cool.

“Minho,” Taemin whined as they worked together a few days after. He hadn’t had chance to phone Kibum back and he thought it was really a conversation that needed to be done at least over the phone, not via text message. “What am I even meant to say? Hey, I’m sorry I freaked out and hung up on you, I thought you were your less hot best friend Jonghyun.”

Minho stood agape in front of him, and it was one of the first times that he had seen it. He hadn’t even gaped when Taemin showed him pictures of what Kibum actually looked like.

“Er, Taem, I think you might wanna-”

There was a laugh behind him and Taemin froze. Shit shit shit shit, he knew that laugh, he’d heard that laugh countless times over the phone.

“So,” Kibum greeted, smirking as Taemin flushed red. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. The time he peed his pants at the age of 15? Nothing compared to this. The time he sat on dog shit and didn’t realise for the entire day? Nothing. Compared. To. This. Torture. He sniffed, straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“Hello sir how may I help you today?”

“Are we going to ignore the fact you just-”

“Our blueberry muffins are currently on a 3-for-2 deal, all profits go to the local dog sanctuary and I can guarantee it’s worth the money!” Taemin continued, trying to drown out the embarrassment.

“You thought I was Jonghyun?!”

“It was an easy mistake to make, what was that, 15 blueberry muffins? Why how generous of you Sir.”

“Taemin, are we going to talk about this or-”

“And coffee for everyone in the queue, Sir you are truly a saint.”

“Taemin,” Kibum grinned, handing over his card, “fine, fine, if that’s how you want to play it. Dinner, tomorrow night? I’ll let you call me Jonghyun?”

Taemin blushed and nodded.

“Hey, where did what’s-his-name go?” he mumbled into the pillow, and there was a brief second where he could smell it, smell him, and he tactfully relocated his nose.

“Left about three hours ago,” Minho sighed, carefully stepping over the bombsite of Taemin’s floor to perch on the side of the bed, setting his backpack by his feet. He looked disgustedly around the room. “Tae-”

“I know exactly what you’re going to say,” Taemin quipped, still face down on the bed, continuing in a patronising high pitch tone that did everything but actually correctly mimic Minho’s own, “having sex with people won’t make it better, Taemin, you’ve got to get your life back into gear – your room is a mess, your grades have slipped. I’ve heard it a million times, Minho, and to be frank, well it does make it better, so fuck you. It’s only temporary, it’s fine. He just needs time.”

Minho hummed, “how is this temporary,” he asked, sniffing at the stale are, nose wrinkling in distaste as he glanced down at his bag.

“It’s temporary, Minho, he’ll change his mind, he’ll …” he tailed off, and Minho watched as he swallowed so hard his body seemed to convulse with it. “He’ll take me back.”

“I saw him,” Minho muttered, and Taemin flipped over, eyes bugged open. He looked ill, pale and scruffy, with bags under his eyes like he hadn’t slept well in days. Minho presumed he hadn’t slept well in two weeks now, not since Kibum had left.

“Where?” Taemin’s body was tense, almost shaking, “is he okay? What did he say? Did he- … why was he here? I thought he went back home, I – shit. Where has be been staying since-”

“He gave me something, Tae,” Minho bit his lip and handed over the backpack, “here.”

Taemin’s fingers were shaking as he opened the zip and Minho looked away, because he couldn’t bear to see the anguish on his face. He stared at the wall, at the collage of photos he remembered helping to put up. His face was in a few of the pictures, as were most of his friends, it was the ones that were missing that were the point of the wall, the ones Taemin had pulled down in a fit of anger a week before, after a week of radio silence and messages never replied. It was the ones that he knew for a fact Taemin kept stacked beneath his pillow, the reason his bed linen would be soaked with tears before he fell asleep each night.

A sob broke him from his reverie and he turned to watch Taemin, sat on the bed with his legs folded, as he brought out a bundle from the bottom of the rucksack. It was a jumper, folded perfectly, just as it would have been on a sales display, with the crest of their university embroidered onto the breast pocket and Taemin’s name stitched in cursive underneath.

“Hey,” Jonghyun swallowed, not really sure of what to say. Taemin was just staring at the fabric, stroking it carefully as if it were the most precious thing in his life.

“He bought me this, on my first day of university here, after he helped me move in,” he heard Taemin whisper several minutes later. “But,” he sobbed out a laugh that sounded more bitter than happy, “he spent so much time in it that it was more his than mine.” He was silent for a few seconds before he whispered. “Must have weird to see, Kibum, at his own university, swanning around in another university’s jumper. Scandalous.” Minho watched as he picked it up, thumbs caressing the soft wool as he buried his face in it deeply, inhaling the scent. “I miss him so much, Minho,” Taemin was shaking again, “what did I do, fuck, what did I do?!”

It took an hour for Minho to calm Taemin down, an hour of tugging him onto his chest and soothing him, muttering that it would get better, it would be fine, even though he really couldn’t promise anything. He hadn’t expected this, to get pulled into this so much as he had. Taemin and he were barely friends, really Minho was Kibum’s best friend, it felt wrong, to be here, to be looking after Taemin when he was the one that did wrong, when Kibum had no one there.

“Why did you do it?” he muttered into Taemin’s hair. The room was silent and dark, and Taemin was heavy and still, but he could hear other students giggling in nearby dorms.

“I don’t know,” came the whispered response, and Taemin sounded choked up again, “he was … he was so busy, with uni and … fuck, Kai was just there, he listened to me, he … shit.” He stayed silent as Taemin sniffled to himself, but he could feel Taemin’s tears through his own T-shirt. “He’s the love of my life, Minho, I never meant to, I shouldn’t, fuck I should have never hurt him like this.”

“You can’t change the past, Taemin,” Minho soothed, and Taemin shook his head.

“I know, that, fuck I know that, I was just … fuck, it’s no excuse but he was just having such a good time and he was so happy, he was in all these societies and he was busy all the time and I … I missed him, okay? I thought I was losing him. And now,” he choked out a bitter laugh, “now look what that’s got me. Now I’ve lost him for good.”

Minho stayed silent, and for a while the only thing he could hear was Taemin’s staccato breathing.

“That night,” Taemin continued after minutes of trying to regulate his own breathing, “he … he was supposed to come on Skype with me. We had these, I dunno, Skype dates. They were dumb, we just watched Disney movies and ordered pizza together, but he … I waited for hours then one of his friends uploaded a picture on Instagram, and they were in this bar, and I just thought … I thought, fuck, he ‘s forgetting me, I … shit, I know it’s no excuse but I … yeah.”

“You thought he purposefully skipped your date to hang out with better people.”

“Yeah,” Taemin sighed, then he pulled himself off of Minho to lay beside him, continuing in a whisper, “the morning after … I woke up, in Kai’s bed, and he was all draped all over me but in that point I didn’t care, because Kibum deserved it, or whatever …” He sighed again, rubbing a tear away from under his eye.

“And?” Minho prompted.

“I checked my phone,” Taemin continued, “Kibum … he … he fell asleep in the library, the picture must have been uploaded late. The worst,” he sobbed again, “the worst thing about it was … fuck, Kibum had been apologising all night and all I’d replied were these awful slurs, these awful awful text messages, he was so confused and I was just … fuck I must have been completely hammered, the things I called him … God I never deserved him,” he took a shaky breath and then smiled, this heartbroken smile that did awful things to the knot in Minho’s stomach.

“He’d kill me for saying this,” Minho spoke after minutes of waiting, of deliberating it, “but he’s still wearing that ring you gave him, that promise ring.”

“He is?” Taemin’s voice was small but hopeful, and he sat up, stiff. “Did you … did you get to talk to him when you saw him? Did you-”

“He’s fine, Taemin,” Minho smiled, and Taemin nodded, “he’s just … I don’t know whether it’s even my place to say, but … he misses you. He hates that he does, but he does. You two are meant to be together, Taemin, you’ll figure it out.”

“I miss him too … I just wish I knew how to get him back.”

All Minho could do was rub Taemin’s back as he dissolved into tears again, his head buried in a jumper that smelt just like limes, basil, mandarin and Kibum.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, smiling at the camera, making sure his dimples showed, because that always fooled them. But the interviewer continued, grinning as she read from her notecards.

“Oh! That’s fine! I have it here!” she giggled, and Kibum fought hard not to roll his eyes. These bitches were milking all they could from this media feud, it was funny how desperate they were. He had to admit though, all press was good press, and he wouldn’t be invited to half as many interviews as he was currently doing if it weren’t for this ridiculous public row with his colleague. “So, on January 6th in an interview following his walk for the Saint Laurent London Fashion Show runway, Lee Taemin said that , and I quote, ‘he dresses like the fantasy of an old white businessman with a very dark specific fetish, it’s scary.’ Any comment?”

“Well,” Kibum smiled softly and then cleared his throat. The tension in the room was palpable and he could practically feel the daggers Minho was sending his way. He’d be roasted alive if he said anything inflammatory. Fuck it. “If I were made of plastic I’d be scared of a lot of things too, open flames, barbecues…”

“Are you accusing Taemin of having had plastic surgery?” the interviewer prodded, in glee.

Kibum just shrugged, Minho dropped his pen and the interviewer seemed lost for words for a second.

“Well!” she announced, “you heard it here first! So comment down below – which team are you; Team Taemin or Team Kibum?!”

After a prompt telling off from Minho (which, really, was getting rather old, I mean he had to do it after every interview, you’d think he’d get over it), Kibum was back in some dusty old studio being poked in the legs with needles yet again, Minho typing out e-mail replies, slumped in an armchair across the other side of the dressing room.

“I don’t see why you can’t just be the bigger man,” Minho sighed after a while, “I don’t want your whole career to be based on some ridiculous feud with a colleague.” Kibum winced as the shoot stylist accidentally poked him again, and Minho continued, “I don’t see what you and Taemin’s problem is, if you just-”

“Oh God,” Kibum groaned as he spotted someone else through the glass of the door, “Minho, Jinki’s here. Why is Jinki here?”

Minho glanced up, frowning. Jinki was Minho’s long term boyfriend, who Kibum had met on several occasions, mostly informal, since even though Minho was an overbearing twat of a publicist, he was also one of Kibum’s closest friends. Lee Jinki, however, was also Lee Taemin’s manager, which begged the question what the fuck was he doing here.

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “he’d probably here to see the photographer, he’s working today. Said they had a shoot or something.”

“Yes, Minho, he’s working,” Kibum gritted out, “and this is a shoot. So why, oh why, is Lee Jinki, at my shoot?”

“Fuck,” Minho muttered out when he came to the same realisation, Jinki opening the door and walking into the most tense silence Kibum has ever had the pleasure of being a part of. “Yes,” he continued, “I see the issue now.”

“Oh, fuck no,” he heard Taemin before he saw him, and watched as Jinki tugged him into the room.

“No,” Jinki affirmed, “you’re not turning down a shoot for Elle Magazine, get dressed and get over it.” He turned to Kibum , “both of you.”

Kibum scoffed, ignoring him as the stylist stood back to assess her work, before nodding and letting Kibum leave to go play Angry Birds to let out his frustration, chuckling every time Taemin winced as he was poked by the same pins.

The photoshoot’s theme was, according to the most enthusiastic photographer Kibum had ever met, Love and Hate.

“So we’re going to be hate, right?” Taemin commented to his side, and Kibum couldn’t help but snort in approval, Taemin grinning despite himself.

“Well,” the photographer smirked, “you’re both.”

“What the fuck?”

The hate part was easy enough to photograph, dressed in black suits they were instructed to ’grapple at each other angrily’. It had felt weird at first, and they’d sort of stood in front of each other not really knowing what to do with their hands or their feet. It was bizarre, for Kibum, to feel so completely out of his depth at a photoshoot. Still, it took a lot of coaching from the photographer as he instructed them how to stand, hands on each other’s faces, stances confrontational. It was really child’s play, to the extent it was embarrassing they were being coached as much as they were. Though, admittedly, it had gotten a little out of hand when Taemin had picked up a vase, and thrown it against the studio wall so hard that it had really ought to have smashed, but instead just dropped to the ground in the most anticlimactic ending to the shoot they could have picked. The cameras kept rolling as they just sort of stood and looked at the vase in silence, before Kibum started to laugh and Taemin soon followed, grinning, before a hand came up to cover his mouth as he chuckled, then laughed.They seemed to both realise what they were doing at the same time as they stopped, Taemin’s hand dropping and Kibum silencing as they regarded each other with wide eyes.

“Okay!” Jonghyun, the photographer, butted in, snapping them out of whatever they had fallen into, “now for part two.”

Taemin and Key watched as a single velvet armchair was brought to the centre of the studio, and they were shepherded into the dressing room, doing their best to ignore each other as they dressed into white suits. Taemin flushed, glancing away as Kibum noticed him watching, and when he turned again his eyes met Minho’s, who was smirking in a way that only really spelt out trouble.

“Okay, Kibum,” Jonghyun instructed, “I want you to lay across horizontally, and Taemin to sit in front.” They followed, Taemin perching right on the front of the armchair and Kibum squeezing to the back, leaving several inches between them. “Closer,” Jonghyun instructed, taking a few shots, “closer, come on guys you’re in love.” Kibum heard Taemin gasp and felt himself blush as it was silent for a few seconds, then Jonghyun sent them a wicked grin and Taemin hesitantly leant back, his arm up on the armchair beside Kibum’s, their faces close, both staring into the camera. Kibum swallowed, hoping Taemin wouldn’t be able to feel how hard his heart was pounding because fuck he’d never hear the end of that. He shifted, bringing his arm around Taemin to cup possessively around his wrist, smirking as he felt Taemin shiver in response. At least it wasn’t him that was feeling the weird effects of this photoshoot.

The photoshoot was published a month later, Kibum had actually totally forgotten about it, caught in the whirlwind of the month until he ended up awake early one morning, early enough to catch the post as it was pushed through his letterbox. He frowned at the parcel, taking a sip of his coffee, placing the mugs down as he opened it. There was a post-it note on the front, telling him what page to flick to, and he snorted as he glanced at the pictures. It was probably the best photoshoot he’d ever done.

Grinning, he folded the magazine in half and propped it under his armpit, trudging through to his bedroom to nudge the lump under the covers.

“I have coffee,” Kibum bribed.

“Why do you do it?” Kibum sighed, after Taemin took a drag of a short cigarette. He’d be moving onto the next one soon. All Kibum got in response was a single shrug, and he sighed. “Tae, you can’t keep-”

“Oh but I can, Kibum,” there was a frightening flash in Taemin’s eyes and Kibum felt himself stepping backwards, his arms coming up to cross over his chest. Taemin appraised him, looked at him as if he were something comical. “Scared?”

“Tae-” his voice was breaking, and any lesser man would have cared. Shame, Taemin thought as he put his cigarette butt out on the stained fabric of Kibum’s bare mattress. He pitied those who felt remorse, what a weakness.”Why do you like hurting people so much?” Kibum continued, “what happened to you?”

“It’s just fun, Kibum. It’s just for fun.”

2) Blood Like Lemonade – Morcheeba (t/w: religious stuff)

He liked the moment when the soul left their body, that was his favourite moment. He usually stopped, mid sucking, to watch as the power left their body and they were left, weak and limp, for him to toss to the ground like the scum that they were.

He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t asked to be changed into this, this monster, a reluctant renegrade. He had been a holy man, had attended church every day of the week, lived for the church and his God, until this.

Now he hunted, high and low, his new moral code in the forefront of his mind to avenge his God. At least in this form he could send sinners to Hell himself. In a way that was a blessing.

He spotted his latest target across the road, coming out of the bar Taemin had followed him to. Choi Minho, he scoffed, following the man down the road. He wasn’t even looking behind him, this was far too easy for Taemin.

All it took was a bump to the side and Minho was his, pinned against the wall of an alleyway, his body losing power as Taemin drank and fuck if it wasn’t the sweetest blood he’d tasted in his life.

Pulling back he faltered, looking into the face of the boy he had just bitten.

Fuck.

This wasn’t Minho.

3) Every Other Freckle – alt-J

“I’m going to turn you inside out,” Taemin commented halfway through a lesson on some form of economics, Kibum wasn’t really listening, he was too busy contemplating what the fuck Taemin was talking about.

“What?” he whispered, but Taemin remained passive.

“Let me be the wallpaper that papers up your room.” Kibum sighed.

“Taemin,” he said, turning physically to stare at his boyfriend, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m going to turn you inside out and lick you like a crisp packet,” was all Taemin said and Kibum just sighed.

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“Admit you’re turned on,” Taemin teased.

“Taemin,” Kibum deadpanned, “you said you wanted to lick me like a crisp packet, of course I’m not fucking turned on.”

4) Lofticries – Purity Ring (t/w: murder lol)

Kibum was at his side, bloodied from the waist up, a kitchen knife in his hand. He wasn’t moving, only staring at the two bodies in front of them, warm and wet and still. Finally still.

A sob ripped from his lungs, manifesting as a cackle, and soon they were both laughing. Taemin had never felt so good. So free.

“They can’t hurt us anymore, okay?” he said in a whisper, slowly, as if speaking loudly might alert someone, might break the moment.

“Yeah,” Kibum shuddered out, “yeah. We’re safe now.”

(Yo so this song is apparently about two kids who kill their abusive parents so ……… yeah.)

5) Hazey – Glass Animals

It was toxic, anyone could see that but him. Gwiboon had Taemin wrapped around her little finger and everyone could seem but him. And Jonghyun, all he could do was watch it all unravel, watch as Gwiboon fell deeper and deeper into a pool of depression, watch as Taemin tried, fruitlessly, to fish her back out again.

Taemin was just a boy though, he had only known love and light, and Jonghyun loved him so much more than Gwiboon ever would.

6) Heartbeats - José González (which is a cover of x)

Kibum was tearful beneath him, on hand in Taemin’s hair, the other on his cheek, fingers caressing. They were kissing, like it was all they needed to breathe, like it was the last time, because it was. They couldn’t do this anymore, Taemin couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t keep hurting Kibum.

7) All You Had To Do Was Stay – Taylor Swift

“Why,” Taemin gulped as he listened to his voicemails. He had been expecting this, he knew he deserved this, but there was a lump in his throat and his hands were shaking. This was for the best, he reassured himself, he would be better off alone, Kibum would move on. He’d move on, fuck why did the thought of that hurt so much? “Why are you locking me out? I don’t understand, please … please, Taemin, I love you … please…” Kibum was sobbing and Taemin couldn’t take any more. Delete.

8) Flawless – Beyoncé

“Fuck, Taeyeon,” Minjung whistled beside her as Gwiboon walked up to them, “why does Gwiboon always look so flawless?”

“She wakes up flawless,” Taeyeon smirked as Gwiboon smiled at her, doing a cute little run up as she neared, heels clacking on the floor before she squealed a little, looping her arms around her neck and kissing her firmly.

“You two are disgusting,” Minjung scoffed and turned to leave, responding to Gwiboon’s shouts of THAT’S A HATE CRIME with a single finger raised in the air.

9) No Angels – Bastille Ft. Ella Eyre

Taemin’s mother and father had always told him that they were fine with the ‘whole gay thing’, so long as he abided by a few of their rules. He could experiment as much as he wanted, and of course his mother had said that in the most derogatory manner possible, but any man he brought to meet them, brought into their family home had to be eligible.

Kibum was far from what Taemin’s parents would consider ‘eligible’. He was an artist, his hair scruffy and black, wide rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He lived in shirts three sizes bigger than he was, rolled up at the sleeves to use as aprons to paint in, but there was still paint in his hair, behind his ear, Taemin had once found it in his eyelashes.

He was wild and untameable, and Taemin loved that.

And he didn’t give a fuck what his parents thought.

10) Spanish Sahara – Foals (t/w: kinda mental illness-y / illusions)

“Let’s go,” he heard Taemin speak from the corner of his room, perched on the top of his wardrobe. Taemin hadn’t aged in years, still the same as he had been when Kibum’s mind had first conjured him. “Let’s just leave. Fuck this place. Leave the horror here, just leave.” It was odd, hearing such crude words from a child.

“Tae, I can’t-”

“They treat you like you’re nothing, come on, you’re worth so much more than this, let’s just go, we can move to New York, you can start afresh, become something.” There was fury in his voice and it lit something in Kibum.

There was a beat, as if Kibum even needed to consider it.

Kibum doesn’t know his name, but he calls him Loop, because he comes by the shop every Wednesday at nine o’clock to buy Froot Loops, and Kibum’s a little bit obsessed with him.

He knew it full well, because he himself despised shelf stockers even though, for half of his hours, he was one. They got in the way, just when you decided that, yes, you definitely wanted that one specific brand of chocolate hazelnut spread that you only ever treat yourself to on special occasions, they would be stocking the shelf right by it, their clumpy wagon of products taking up half the aisle and producing what could only really be referred to as a shopping trolley traffic jam. He hated it, which is why he did most of his shopping online, or when he had a midnight shift and the supermarket was empty and morbid looking.

Still, every Wednesday he not only found himself willingly taking the night shift, but actually requesting to do shelf stocking. All for a guy. Maybe he was finally losing his mind, maybe university had finally made him crack. He wouldn’t have been surprised if that were the case.

When he thought about it, it would really make more sense for him to ask for a shift on the checkout, at least then he might be able to talk to Mr. Froot Loops, but he kind of liked watching from the sidelines, out of the corner of his eye as he restocked the cereals nearby.

Mr. Froot Loops, or as Kibum called him, Loop, came by like clockwork on a Wednesday evening at around 9pm. He was always dressed in black, usually sweatshirts and jeans, and his hair was usually a mess, but in an artistic way that made Kibum very angry. He was so used to being interested in men that were well put together, but Loop was scruffy as hell. Vampirish and pale, he often had heavy bags under his eyes and a general aura of don’t talk to me.

He was, in essence, the exact opposite of the person you’d expect to be buying Froot Loops at 9pm on a Wednesday evening.

Kibum was intrigued.

So every week he stocked the shelves silently, only the charts music from the supermarket speakers in the background, whilst surreptitiously watching Loop from the corner of his eye. He didn’t talk to Loop, never did, and in honesty he never expected that he would.

Until the Wednesday following his birthday the night before.

Now to say that Kibum was fragile after that night would be an understatement. He was very close to violently being sick whenever he moved in the morning, but thankfully most of it had subsided by the time he had to go to work. He didn’t even consider trying to call in sick, his boss was the biggest bitch in the world and he knew his co-workers would be just as fragile as he was, if not worse. Jinki had been completely wasted the night before, and Jonghyun and Minho had disappeared partway through the night and Kibum didn’t have the heart to disturb whatever that was, because lord knows them getting together had been a long time coming.

He didn’t even notice Loop turn up, he was far too busy considering whether or not his boss would notice if he pocketed a packet of paracetemol because fuck his head hurt like a motherfucker. Then suddenly, there was a voice in his ear and he jumped because this really wasn’t the time for any noise whatsoever.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he brought a hand up to his pounding head, and turned to the sheepish customer. Fuck, his eyes shot wide open. It was Mr. Mysterious Froot Loop Boy, talking to him, when he not only felt like the shittest pile of shit in the world, but probably looked it as well.

“Erm,” Loop continued, “I … do you have Froot Loops?” he asked, pointing to the empty shelf, and Kibum blushed, even though there really wasn’t much reason for him to.

Fuck though, Froot Loop Boy was even hotter up close, especially today because of course on the day that Kibum looked and felt like literal shit, Froot Loop Boy was dressed to the nines, suited and booted, his hair coiffed, no bags under his eyes. Kibum frowned at his attire.

“It’s the medics ball,” Froot Loop Boy offered by means of explanation, and Kibum flushed red again because he must have been staring quite intently for him to have noticed. Medic, Kibum thought to himself, Froot Loop Boy studied medicine. Fuck. Why was that so hot?

And shit, he hadn’t even answered his question.

“I…” he swallowed, words not coming to him, “I’ll check out back.”

“Okay,” Froot Loops Boy grinned easily, and Kibum nodded, “I’ll wait by the checkout?”

There were boxes and boxed of Froot Loops in the back, so Kibum grabbed a few, lining three of them up on the shelf before heading to the checkout, eyeing the checkout assistant suspiciously when he sent him a wink and a cock of the head to Froot Loops Boy. Handing over the box to the him, Kibum sent him a questioning look, but Woohyun only shrugged and smirked. Jerk.

Froot Loop Boy seemed to hesitate, kind of hanging around for a little longer than usual, sharing these weird, confusing looks with Woohyun, but then left, box of cereal in hand.

“What was that about?” Kibum asked, somewhat absentmindedly as he rearranged the gum display by the counter.

“Oh nothing,” Woohyun replied in his token teasing tone, “it’s just he’s a friend of a friend.”

“Oh cool.” Kibum tried to seem less than interested, focussing solely on the gum in his hands.

“And I know for a fact he despises Froot Loops.” With that Woohyun was gone out of the front door for one of his frequent smoking breaks.

“Wait what?”

Woohyun must have got the facts wrong, Kibum thought to himself as he watched Froot Loop boy from the corner of his eye. It’d been several weeks since the one and only time they had talked, and now they were in this awkward semi-acquaintance stage where they kind of knew each other but mostly didn’t. Kibum never knew whether to say hello when Loop popped in the shop, so he’d send the most awkward smile his way, and Loop would look rather taken aback for a moment or two before waving back, and Kibum would have to relocate to another aisle to marinade in his own embarrassment.

“So,” Jonghyun chuckled the following week, as he followed Kibum about. Jonghyun didn’t actually work in the shop, but he often came along to do what he referred to as ‘babysitting Kibum’, and what Kibum referred to as being a complete and utter pain in the arse. “I heard you have a crush,” he teased and Kibum rolled his eyes, lining up a row of tins as he scoffed.

“Of course you’d be in cahoots with Woohyun,” he let out a long suffering sigh, “it’s nothing okay, we’ve barely even talked.”

“But Woohyun said-”

“Woohyun’s a jerk,” Kibum interjected, then paused at Jonghyun’s look. Why did a man his age have fucking puppy dog eyes?! “Don’t do this to me Jonghyun, that’s not fair.” Jonghyun’s pitiful expression only intensified until Kibum gave up, sighing once again. “Okay, fine!” Jonghyun grinned in triumph.

“So,” he nudged Kibum, “who is he?”

“He’s just this guy,” Kibum shrugged, “who comes in every week. It’s kinda lame.”

“And?” Jonghyun asked, before Kibum shrugged. “Wait, is that it?”

“Yeah,” Kibum nodded, realigning a few more shelves as he spoke, “I mean, nothing’s happened and nothing will happen, he’s just easy on the eyes. And he has a nice voice.” He paused and frowned, “and a weird obsession with Froot Loops.”

“Froot Loops?”

“Yeah, he comes in and buys a pack every week, which, you know, is a sign of possible obsession and/or psychopathy so it’s probably a good thing we-”

“Every Wednesday, you say?” Jonghyun’s tone was teasing as he pulled out his phone. “Hang on a minute.” He scrolled through to his contacts, and pressed call on one of them, and when he held his phone between the two of them, hitting loudspeaker, Kibum read the name. Lee Taemin, it sounded familiar, didn’t Jonghyun have a housemate by that name?

“Yo, Taemin,” Jonghyun spoke as soon as the other picked up, and they was just a shuffling on the other end as it sounded like someone was waking up. Who on Earth slept at 4pm? Fuck? Had Jonghyun called the Mr Froot Loops, was this Taemin guy the scruffy looking vampy dude Kibum so fixated on? “So I was thinking about getting some cereal,” Jonghyun started, grinning to himself, and Kibum frowned.

What? he mouthed to Jonghyun, but Jonghyun only held up a hand as if to say wait.

“Jonghyun, why the fuck are you calling me about your cereal?”

“Well,” Jonghyun continued unphased, “I was thinking of getting Froot Loops, actually.”

“Good for you, man,” Taemin answered, “can I go back to sleep now?”

“But then,” Jonghyun continued still, “I remembered that you have a wardrobe full of it, so-”

“Wait, what? What the fuck, Jonghyun, why have you been in my room?”

“You stole my Playstation you little bitch, I went in to reclaim it.”

Taemin scoffed. “Dude I won that Playstation fair and square.”

“Lies,” Jonghyun rebutted. “But more importantly, why do you have a wardrobe full of Froot Loops boxes, Taemin?” Shit, Kibum thought to himself, shit shit shit shit it was him fuck it was him. Don’t freak out, don’t breathe too heavily, shit what if he can hear me breathing fuck I bet he’s so cute and scruffy and-

“I … collect them? I like the packaging,” he sounded more like he was trying to persuade himself than Jonghyun, “yeah, I …”

“Bullshit,” Jonghyun teased, “what’s the real reason?”

“Jonghyun, I’ll give you all the Froot Loops you could want, I don’t even like them-”

“What?! But he made me get some from out back!” Kibum couldn’t stop himself, and Taemin’s end of the line went quiet.

“Jonghyun,” came a warning voice after a moment or two, “Jonghyun, who was that.” Jonghyun let him sweat, “Jonghyun you arsehole oh my God, I’m going to kill you.”

“Why would you do that Taemin?”

“Oh my God, fuck you.”

“Nah, I think it’s cute grocery store boy you want to fuck.”

“Jonghyun, please-”

“Man, I knew it was this store,” Jonghyun continued, “I just figured you were into Woohyun for some reason, not-”

“Jonghyun-”

“But each to their own I guess.”

“Fuck, he heard this whole thing?” Taemin spoke, horrified, and Jonghyun looked from his phone to Kibum who was sat on the floor, blushing so intensely he almost looked ill.

“Yep,” Jonghyun replied chipperly, “got anything to say to him?”

“Er … hi ….”

“Kibum,” Jonghyun offered.

“Yeah, I know,” Taemin responded, “I … er … Facebook?”

“Wow creepy,” Jonghyun commented and Taemin scoffed. “Is that all you wanted to say, because if not I’ll hang up-”

“No!” there was another shuffle and Taemin spoke again, “Kibum, when does your shift end?”

“Er … in half an hour,” he swallowed loudly, nervously, and Jonghyun rolled his eyes.

“Will you let me take you out?”

“What?”

“Take you out? On a date?”

“A date?”

“Yeah, I mean, unless you don’t want to, we can just-” Taemin tried to backpedal.

“Okay, Mr Awkward I’m going to stop you there, Kibum will wait here after his shift ends and you will pick him up and that’s the end of that, bye.” Jonghyun hung up the phone and smiled, turning to Kibum.

They lived in an area unfortunate in the way that their post was often delivered late morning, sometimes early afternoon, so seeing it at barely ten AM on a Saturday was a bit of a surprise. Kibum realised how domesticated he had become, that post coming a little earlier than usual evoked such shock was an embarrassment to his former self. He remembered university days, partying and causing a general nuisance of himself - that all seemed so boring now. He sniffled, catching his reflection in the hallway mirror (the one his boyfriend used daily to attempt to tie his tie for a good five minutes, before giving in and letting Kibum do it). His hair was scruffy from sleep and sex, none of it sticking out in any sensible direction, and his lips were dry and chapped.

He placed the mugs on a cabinet by the door and bent down to collect the post. Most of it was rubbish, either catalogues or spam mail, but he collected up the few legitimate looking letters and propped them under his arm, squeezing them to the side of his rib cage to keep them with him as he carried the mugs of tea upstairs and into the bedroom, setting them on the bedside cabinet and clambering back into bed, sitting up with what little duvet he could snatch pooled around his middle.

“Why you awake?” he heard a mumble from the cocoon of duvets beside him, the voice more of a hum than tangible words. Luckily he’d learnt to speak the language of boyfriend in their years together.

“Hm?” he turned and poked the lump with a finger, and it groaned in response, “Tae, it’s past ten already.”

“Too early,” the lump protested, and Kibum just smiled, shaking his head as he grabbed the post from the bedside table and dropped it onto the duvet in front of him.

“I brought you tea,” Kibum offered, and the lump shifted slightly, then spoke in suspicion.

“Which type?” his boyfriend mumbled out in a clearer, more awake voice, “it’s not your shitty health tea is it?”

“Peppermint,” he bargained the the lump groaned, then shifted, and soon his boyfriend’s face was popping out from under the white, cotton sheets. Taemin sat up, making these adorable little grumpy noises as he shifted his body to lean against the headrest, before leaning his head on Kibum’s shoulder and looking up at him expectantly. Kibum ignored him and took a long sip of his tea before catching his eye and scoffing.

“What do you want?” he asked and Taemin replied solely by pouting his lips, his gaze still expectant. Kibum laughed as he leant down, Taemin far too eager for it to really be deemed a good morning kiss, making Kibum put his tea down and clambering on top of him underneath the duvet, the letters slipping off onto an uninhabited area of the bed, Kibum laid underneath him.

“G’morning,” Kibum mumbled, out of breath, once Taemin had settled, his head in the crook of Kibum’s neck, laid on top of him, the duvet around their hips, “your tea will be cold now.”

Taemin just hummed, burying his nose into the hairs at the back of Kibum’s head, breathing in deeply.

“Tae,” Kibum squirmed, “I haven’t showered.”

“Not important,” Taemin replied, peppering kisses to Kibum’s neck and shoulder, “did we pay the water bill?” he asked as a secondary thought.

“No,” Kibum groaned, running a hand over his face, “I knew I’d forgotten something, I bet one of those letters is a reminder.” He tried sitting up, but Taemin’s weight on top of him made it nigh on impossible, especially since Taemin was playfully making it his mission to make it even more difficult. Kibum gave up after a few seconds of trying, and Taemin laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before sitting up to collect the post.

“Bank, bank, electricity, phone,” he mumbled as he shuffled through, “ah, here’s the water one,” he murmured, passing it over to Kibum. Kibum sighed as he took it, shifting to prop his head on Taemin’s bare thigh, laid out in between his legs. Taemin laughed, draping the other leg over Kibum’s waist to drag him in closer. Kibum just hummed contentedly as he tugged the letter open, dropping the envelope beside him as he read the letter aloud.

“Dear Mr and Mr Lee, the below mentioned payment for your water bill is due-” he frowned, glancing to the header of the letter. “… Mr and Mr Lee,” he mumbled to himself, Taemin watching him intently from above. “Tae,” he glanced up, and Taemin tried at once to pretend that he wasn’t already watching, trying to gauge Kibum’s reaction, his eyes dropping to the electricity bill in his own hands.

“Yeah, pumpkin,” he murmured in reply, voice surprisingly steady for the nerves that were coursing through him.

Kibum groaned at the nickname but continued.

“Did you change my name on our water bill?” Kibum asked, confusion across his face that Taemin mistook as anger.

“No … I mean. No.” Kibum just frowned again, the same confusion filling him as he picked up a few of their other letters, all of them addressed either to ‘Mr and Mr Lee,’ ‘Mr Kibum Lee and Mr Taemin Lee,’ ‘Mr Taemin Lee,’ or ‘Mr Kibum Lee.’

“Are you sure?” he asked, plucking the electricity bill from Taemin’s hands.

“Is it … would it be that bad to have my name?” Taemin’s voice was small and Kibum looked up, confused, because really he had just been wondering, he hadn’t been at all angry, in fact it was touching, the thought that Taemin would want him to take his family name. But Taemin had said he hadn’t changed it, so Kibum had been even more confused.

“No!” Kibum exclaimed, clambering up to face Taemin, his hands on his shoulders. “I’d love to take your name, you know, when we get married and stuff.”

“When we get married?” Taemin asked, and Kibum stilled.

“If you want to,” he replied, flying into panic mode just as Taemin just had, “I mean, it’s not something we’ve really talked about for a while but I-” he was cut off by a kiss to his lips, a hand curling around the back of his head.

“I just wanted to see how you’d react,” Taemin admitted, “we don’t talk about the future much but … I really want you to be a massive part of mine.” Kibum blushed, suddenly embarrassed in front of a partner he had been with for over five years at this point, and buried his head in Taemin’s chest. Taemin tugged him back, slipping off of the bed to kneel on the floor beside it, and Kibum stilled suddenly.

“No …” he whispered in shock, “oh my God, are you?”

Taemin only smiled, a hand reaching under the bed to bring out a small black velvet box. He clicked it open and glanced up at Kibum, who had shifted closer to the edge of the bed by now, the mattress squeaking below him, his eyes watering.

“Kim Kibum, I love you so much, you know I do,” Kibum was blushing again and shaking by now, so much that Taemin reached over to hold his hand, his thumb brushing over the soft skin as Kibum clutched onto him. “I want to grow old with you, I want little miniature Kibums and the house with the lawn and the dogs, just like you want. I … I really didn’t think this through, I thought scripting it might make it seem less genuine, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you, will you marry me?”

Kibum didn’t respond for the longest time, still shaking, Taemin’s hand touched in his own. When he did respond, it was just in the form of a stunned nod, first the one, then more in quick succession until tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was almost sobbing.

“Baby,” Taemin murmured, laughing, as he climbed onto the bed and gathered Kibum in his arms, sat against the headrest with Kibum against his chest. He propped the little box by his side and raised his hands to swipe away the tears from Kibum’s cheeks. “Hey, don’t cry. This is supposed to be a happy time.” Kibum scoffed, and then laughed, still sniffling.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered as he rubbed at his eyes with the sleeves of his jumper, “I’m such a mess … I just … shit, I just didn’t expect …”

Taemin hummed in understanding, pulling Kibum’s hands away from his eyes. They were puffy enough as it was. Reaching to his side he presented the box, a band of white gold on a black velvet cushion. Kibum looked dumbstruck, and Taemin smiled, because honestly he couldn’t have proposed to anyone with a reaction more genuine than this. Kibum was completely at a loss for words, glancing up at Taemin as Taemin spoke.

“Do you want me to put it on?” he asked and Kibum nodded, suddenly very shy, a side that in all honesty Taemin didn’t really get to see that much anymore. He revelled in it, watching Kibum’s blush light up his cheeks as he slipped the ring onto his finger. “I couldn’t afford much, but I-”

“Shut up, Taemin, it’s perfect,” Kibum smiled and suddenly his eyes bugged open, wider than Taemin had ever seen them go before. “I can call you my fiancé,” a smile lit up his face before he was back in Taemin’s lap, muttering the word fiancé over and over as he pressed kisses to his face and lips. “We should go get your ring now,” Kibum decided, embarrassment having left him. Taemin just laughed, pretending not to notice as Kibum got distracted by his ring again, blushing to himself and then sending the most adorable, over the moon expression his way.