rabenhorst (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rabenhorst) wrote2012-02-28 09:26 pm
rabenhorst) wrote2012-02-28 09:26 pm
[fic] Minho/Key – SHINee – Circle's End [2/2]
back to part 1/2
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(18 199 words, cutout included)
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This is also known as “the fic with tons of pointless dialogue, in which Kibum changes favourites, Taemin is babied, and Minho fails ateverything making friends”.
…honestly? idk. I just really really wanted to write minkey ;-; and watched the figure skating European championships. blame this on that \o/
there is another one (or ten) on its way and someone stop me. …or actually don’t. rather poke me for more ahaha this is way too much fun. but I need to be poked.
True to his words, Jonghyun appears half past five. It’s actually the closest he has ever managed to make it to an agreed meeting on time, which he feels marginally proud of. Minho lets him in, and they barely make it to the living room before Jonghyun rummages through his bag and shoves something into Minho’s hands.
A scrapbook?
“I never figured you’d be the type to collect your memories, Jjong,” Minho teases, grinning.
Jonghyun huffs, but there’s a grin dancing on his lips. “Shut up. You know I’ve hung out with Kibum way too long. He’s rubbing off on me. Besides,” he gestures to the book, “I’m trying to show you something significant, okay.”
“O-kay,” Minho says. Slowly he sits down on the couch, opening the first page of the scrapbook.
Only to be faced with Kibum, smiling at the camera. In the picture, Kibum has an asymmetrical haircut, his eyes accentuated with heavy make up and a delicate smile dancing on his lips. He is also holding a trophy of some sorts. Minho squints to read the messy handwriting. “The youth championships 2006. You rock, my man!”
He looks up and Jonghyun gives a cheeky grin. “What? He’s my best friend okay! I am allowed to get all cheesy when I’m proud of him.”
That makes Minho smile and he shakes his head a little. Jonghyun is almost vibrating with excitement, although at the same time there is something dark in the lines of his face. He looks sad. Minho doesn’t ask, though, but flips to the next page. There are various clippings from newspapers, photographs, VIP tickets to shows, postcards.
“A figure skating prodigy?” Minho reads out loud, staring at the picture underneath the big bold letters. It’s from the biggest national newspaper and distantly he wonders if he’s seen the article before. Kibum is on ice in the picture, in his training attire, looking stern and focused.
“Yeah,” Jonghyun says, “he was pretty damn badass. I could never even properly stand on ice and he did all those flips and jumps and whatever. I never learned the correct terms.” He sounds like a proud father, but Minho barely notices. He feels like his throat is laced up, and he doesn’t exactly feel like teasing his friend for the obvious affection in his tone.
“What happened?” Minho asks after a while, his eyes still on the pages of the book, article after another. Clearly, Kibum doesn’t skate anymore. But why did he stop if he was so good?
There is a long pause, long enough for Minho to look up. Jonghyun’s expression is grim, and at first it feels like he won’t answer at all. “It was an accident. He was in the hospital for weeks,” he says at length, not meeting Minho’s eyes. “They told him that he’s lucky he’s walking again and that there’s no chance in hell he’d ever be able to get on ice in this lifetime.”
Minho isn’t the type to cry easily but now, he feels like he could shed a tear or two. He doesn’t, though, he simply blinks his eyes to clear his vision. “And that’s why he still has pains?”
“Yeah.” Jonghyun nods. “And he won’t take painkillers no matter what. He used to be addicted to that shit and now he doesn’t touch them at all.”
Minho nods. He feels like he’s intruding on Kibum’s privacy, asking things about him from his best friend instead of confronting him in person. Then again, it’s hard to talk to a person who currently doesn’t acknowledge your existence.
“Hey, Minho,” Jonghyun says. He’s stood up, and reaches out to give Minho an awkward pat on the back. “Talk to him when he’s back, okay? I only told you because I know you worry.” He offers a small smile. “It’s not you. He’s not running from you.”
Jonghyun leaves a while later, but not before showing Minho that there’s a DVD attached to the last page of the book. Minho doesn’t watch it. The book is right there, in the middle of the table, as if mocking him with its existence. Almost every time he passes the book he instinctively reaches out to take it. It’s like a train wreck and he can’t look away.
Until later, when Minho pads into the living room after showering, leaving wet footprints on the floor. At first he’s just standing there, rubbing his hair dry, when his gaze lands on the item in the middle of the table, again.
Finally he cracks.
He hooks the towel around his neck and carefully dries his palms in his sweatpants, before carefully flipping to the last page. There’s no real label on the DVD, only Kibum’s name written on it in a messy scrawl.
The first thing he sees when he presses play is Kibum’s smiling face. C’mon man, he hears Jonghyun’s voice off camera, say something to your fans.
The next two hours consist of the familiar bickering Minho is used to already. Jonghyun is mocking Kibum, who knows exactly how to take revenge mere seconds later. Then there are also the moments when Kibum is on ice, gliding on the surface like he’s born to do it. It looks so effortless, so delicate and powerful at the same time. Minho’s never been a fan of figure skating but right here, right now, he thinks it’s absolutely breathtaking.
Or maybe it’s just Kibum.
It almost feels like watching the DVD triggers something since Minho only has the time to re-watch it once when there’s rattling on his front door that startles him a little. He knows that the only person with a spare key to his apartment is Kibum, and instantly his heartbeat increases. He fumbles for the remote control to pause the DVD, before scrambling up from the couch.
Then there’s Kibum, standing there in person, looking like he just materialized from Minho’s dreams. He doesn’t care how sappy and mushy it sounds, he missed Kibum so much he’s ready to say all kinds of corny things he never thought he’d voice out loud in his life. He barely even registers that Taemin is there too, standing near the doorway with a hint of amusement on his features.
Kibum smiles, but he doesn’t have the time for anything else before they’re hugging, Minho using his height advantage to lift Kibum’s feet off the ground. “Hey,” Kibum laughs, clutching on to Minho tightly, as tightly as he’s being held in turn. He buries his nose into Minho’s shoulder to inhale his scent deeply. “I missed you.”
Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t find the words, and so he settles for just squeezing Kibum a little tighter. It’s answer enough, for both of them. Minho cards his fingers through Kibum’s hair. When he looks up he meets Taemin’s gaze, silent understanding passing between them.
They end up in the kitchen and Kibum makes them all hot chocolate. Taemin complains it’s childish but Kibum doesn’t even consider that worthy an answer. There isn’t much food to work with but he somehow whips out sandwiches as well, while Taemin keeps bugging Minho about the happenings at work.
It would feel like a completely normal evening, if there wasn’t for the slight tension lingering in the air.
Taemin knows that there are some things his friends need to talk through so after their snack he swiftly makes an excuse to leave. For a second it seems like Kibum is going to ask him to stay, but then he steels himself and simply offers a small smile instead. Taemin gives him a quick hug and waves at Minho, but then the door already clicks shut and leaves them in an eerie silence.
A couple of awkward glances later Kibum releases all air from his lungs, laughing a little shakily. “C’mon this is ridiculous. It’s not like we have some big dark monster in the room. I–” He looks up, straight into Minho’s eyes. “Can we talk?”
It’s a stupid question and he knows it, but he can’t help himself either. Minho nods his head in response and backs into the living room, Kibum trailing after him. The DVD player has gone into a power saving mode, the green screen saver blinking at them until Minho hits the button to shut it. When he turns around, Kibum is just standing there, and he isn’t looking at him. He is staring at the thick, worn book on the table.
“What is this?” Kibum picks up the book, flips it open and slams it shut within a second. “What!? Minho?” He sounds a tad bit hysterical, his eyes widening as he looks up. He is clutching the book to his chest, knuckles white, as if he could somehow crush it and make it disappear.
“I was worried,” Minho offers. It sounds kind of lame, but it’s the truth, after all.
“Worried?” Kibum laughs but it doesn’t sound amused in the slightest. “So you went behind my back and asked Jonghyun? What else did you do? Call my parents?”
“It’s not like–”
“I can’t believe you!” Kibum snaps. “It’s my life, the least you could’ve done is to ask me about it and not go around asking everyone and spreading things around.”
“How was I supposed to do that!?” Minho can’t hold the angry words back, his temper getting the best of him. “You were the one who ran away and wouldn’t answer my calls. Tell me, what was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to think?”
Kibum deflates, the anger seeping out of him as fast as it appeared. He drops down on the couch, still clutching the scrapbook to his chest, eyes closed. He is silent for so long that Minho begins to panic. “Hey,” he steps closer and gingerly sits down, reaching out to touch Kibum’s knee. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“No.” Kibum opens his eyes. “It’s not your fault. I just. I don’t deal with this well, okay.”
Slowly, Minho nods. It’s no wonder, if one asks him. Who would deal well with his dreams being crushed and forever taken away? He knows he wouldn’t. He swallows against the lump in his throat and reaches out to gently take Kibum’s hand in his. “What happened?”
There is a small smile, a genuine one, on Kibum’s lips as he twines their fingers together. He looks up, meeting Minho’s gaze with his own. “Jonghyun didn’t tell you that?”
“He only said it was an accident.”
“That useless piece of– whatever.” Key laughs bitterly, and Minho decides he hates the sound of that. “It’s the stupidest thing ever. I passed a construction site, and I took a shortcut right through it. Too bad it ended in a block of concrete falling on me. It crushed my right leg and hip completely. The fractures healed and I can walk alright, I can even skate but never ever on a professional level. And when the weather gets bad, the fractures keep aching. Sometimes less, sometimes more.”
Minho nods. It sounds so wrong, how an entire life-changing occurrence is squeezed into those few words, spoken so casually. Especially since it’s clear from the tone of Kibum’s voice that he isn’t as over it as he likes to pretend. He isn’t as unaffected as it seems right now. It feels like a stab in Minho’s heart, the ache spreading through his circulatory system. “And now was more?”
“Yeah. Now was really fucking bad. I couldn’t even get up from bed for days.” Kibum agrees with a humourless smile. He is silent only for a second afterwards, before he swallows and goes on. “Minho? I really am sorry. I should’ve spoken to you instead of just disappearing. And Taemin… he just tries to look out for me, you know? I don’t usually want to deal with anyone when it’s that bad.”
Minho reaches out and when he pulls Kibum against his chest, he can feel the tension melting away, the way Kibum relaxes in the embrace. “Don’t ever do it again, okay.” He knows this is still new, but he wants to be there, both in good and in bad. It’s almost frightening, but he pushes those thoughts away. “I’m right here.”
In his arms, he feels Kibum nodding.
Things go back to normal surprisingly fast. Kibum stays the night and in the morning they quarrel over breakfast whether they should watch cartoons or the rerun of a tennis match. It almost feels like nothing ever really happened. It’s a relief, for the both of them, that there are no more secrets looming between them and it’s finally out in the open.
“I think I’ll tell Jinki, too. Then you all know,” Kibum says, poking his soggy cereal.
“He texted me earlier,” Minho says and tries to swat Kibum’s spoon away to make him stop before he makes a mess. “He wants to know if we’ll go out tonight as usual. I think he’s bored.”
“Or lonely,” Kibum points out and finally sets his spoon aside. With a sigh, he leans back. “Let’s call the bunch and go for a proper dinner? Somewhere cheap, some of us are poor students.”
“Was that a subtle hint?” Minho asks. There’s laughter bubbling in his chest and he doesn’t need more than the small shrug and a grin as answer. “Alright. I’ll treat you. This once.” As if it’d ever be just this once. They both know it but neither says a word.
“How about that gorgeous fusion restaurant downtown?” Kibum asks, eyes sparkling, as he leans over the table.
“So you patched up your little lover’s spat?” Jonghyun asks the moment he steps into the restaurant and finds his friends occupying a corner table. Hyein rolls her eyes and waves at the bunch as a greeting, before sliding into her seat without a word. They’re the last ones to arrive, and their group is only missing Taemin’s girlfriend, who couldn’t make it.
“I’ll give you something else to patch up,” Kibum smiles sweetly over the menu. “Sit down and shut up.” He gestures for his friend and Jonghyun doesn’t say anything, only flashes them a smug grin as if saying he knows it’s all his earning that the crisis is over. Whether or not that’s true, he did have his role and he is convinced his input was the most crucial one.
It’s a new place for most of them; only Minho and Kibum have been there before, once a few weeks back. They tried the restaurant out on a whim and liked it enough to agree it’s a place to be visited again. As usual, Kibum spends an hour reading the menu, trying to decide what he wants to have from the half a dozen options he finds tempting.
“You know,” Hyein claps her hands once to gain everyone’s attention. “We could all order different things and then share? So everyone gets to taste as many dishes as possible.”
The suggestion is met by a brilliant smile. “Hyein, you always were my favourite!” Kibum truly has liked her from the first moment they met, even if he tends to complain about her loudly on occasion. He only really insults his friends, that much they all know by now.
The others grumble but only half-heartedly, and in the end they all make their picks. Except for Jinki, who gets bullied into ordering one of the dishes Kibum can’t decide between, and Minho, who offers to get one of those willingly.
While waiting for their orders Taemin uses the moment to explain about the new project he is doing for one of his courses. He needs someone to interview and it only takes him a few moments of subtle hinting and fluttering his eyelashes dramatically before Minho promises to be his guinea pig. He is the only one working for a magazine anyway, so it automatically makes him most qualified.
The food is good and they indeed end up sharing most of it, commenting on each other’s choices and comparing the dishes, even when they get some disapproving glances from the personnel. Somehow the remains of almost every portion ends up in front of Minho and he eats them without complaints, figuring it’s kind of like free food since he only paid for two of them.
The opportunity comes when Hyein is at the ladies room, the others engrossed in a discussion. Kibum manages to catch Jinki’s attention easily enough and in a low voice he gives him a short version of what was going on. Jinki’s eyes are full of understanding and he smiles, giving Kibum’s hand a soft squeeze. It feels good to have it out in the open, and a part of Kibum wonders why he kept everything secret for so long.
No one admits to be at fault when they end up singing karaoke for the rest of the night, Kibum and Hyein belting out the latest pop hits and in between trying to make everyone else sing the most embarrassing classics possible.
Taemin wins with his rendition of Tom Jones’ Sex Bomb, complete with choreography. No one has any idea how he even knows the song.
“Hi hyung!” Taemin beams as soon as Kibum swings the door open, greeting him with a half-hug before pushing past him into the apartment. “Is Minho-hyung home? I brought the recorder and my notes and everything, and I’ve prepared the whole interview already!” He is bubbly and excited about his project, to the point that he hasn’t known any other topic for the past few days.
Behind him is Jinki, who shrugs and grins at Kibum. “I know we’re a bit early but…” he drawls. “Want to grab coffee or something? Or dinner if you haven’t eaten yet?” They agreed that Taemin would need some peace for his interview and thus Jinki had volunteered to go out with Kibum to keep him entertained while he was banned from his home. Kibum is living more or less permanently with Minho, only visiting his dorm room once or twice a week.
“Let me grab my wallet and I’m ready,” Kibum says, spinning around on his heels. Taemin is already sitting on the couch, spreading all the papers around him and enthusiastically readying the recorder. Minho looks a little bit lost perched on the edge of the armchair, and Kibum can’t help but chuckle at the sight of that. “C’mon, big boy,” he grins, patting Minho’s shoulder. “It can’t be that bad.”
Minho still sulks. “Says the one who runs away.”
“I’ll be back,” Kibum says. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on Minho’s forehead, while reaching to grab the wallet from the coffee table. “Have fun!” He smiles brightly and waves, before he slips outside to meet the waiting Jinki.
They end up in a cafeteria downtown, a place where one gets heavenly iced coffee and delicious pastries, but also small meals since Jinki hasn’t yet had dinner. Kibum insists on paying, saying it’s his turn to treat, which isn’t that impossible in itself. It’s the look in his eyes that somehow gets Jinki suspicious, and after getting through half of his Caesar salad, he points at his friend with his utensils. “Why do you look so happy that you just paid for everything?”
“Happy? Do I look happy?” Kibum smiles, his eyes sparkling. “Oh,” he says, “maybe it has something to do with this.” He waves the black leather wallet in the air, as if it should mean something significant.
For a moment, Jinki simply stares. Then, something clicks in his head. Kibum’s wallet is brown. “Did you? You didn’t! You seriously mean you just–” Jinki splutters. “Did you just steal Minho’s money!?” He looks completely and utterly horrified, while Kibum simply keeps on grinning as he stirs his coffee.
“Calm down,” Kibum says, finally, after he thinks his friend has suffered enough trying to fight an aneurysm. “I practically live with him now, right?” He gains a nod as a response but he doesn’t really acknowledge it, and instead goes on. “We figured that by the end of the term I’m going to leave the dorms officially, too. So I kind of convinced him we could share a bank account.”
“S-share?” Jinki does look a lot calmer and the colour of his face is considerably more normal. Still, he doesn’t seem any less confused. “Kibum… it’s like. It’s like getting married. You’ve known each other for what?”
“One year, nine months,” Kibum says. He doesn’t even need to think about it and that would be kind of scary if he didn’t have the most eerily good memory ever when it comes to dates and numbers.
Jinki stops. “Has it been that long already?” It’s not like less than two years mean a lifetime but then again, he knows people who have gotten married weeks into knowing one another and lived together for the rest of their lives. Besides, he figures, it’s none of his business. “So why didn’t you have a nice reception and feed us cake?” He grins goofily. “You would’ve looked fabulous in a dress!”
That makes Kibum snort and he reaches over the table to slap his friend, even if there’s no real force behind it. “I swear, I would’ve made you a bridesmaid and then we see who’s laughing!”
It’s so easy to spot the happy glow that seems to be somehow floating around him.
They end up staying at the cafeteria for hours. After the third cup of coffee, Kibum suddenly points out a young man in a worn suit, sitting close to the door. He starts making up a life-story for the man, elaborating on everything from his marital status to his job, allowing his imagination run free. It doesn’t take more to get Jinki enthusiastic about it too and he picks a little girl and her mother who pass by the window, coming up with a story of his own.
It only takes one good looking man two tables from them and Kibum changes the game, turning it to a how-to-hit-on-gorgeous-guys guide for all Jinkis of the world. After the initial blushing Jinki realizes he enjoys it too, laughing as Kibum launches off to yet another imaginary scenario on how his friend could charm the man they deemed to be the best catch in the establishment. When said man leaves a while after, arm in arm with a gorgeous girl, it makes them crack up helplessly.
They stop rolling on the floor laughing, figuratively speaking, when they find the next target of their people-watching. There’s yet another good catch entering the café and after watching him for a while, Kibum tugs on Jinki’s sleeve to gain his attention. “He’d be exactly your type!” he hisses, trying to keep his voice low.
Jinki takes one more glance at the man to confirm that yes, appearance-wise the man indeed would be just about perfectly his type. “Yeah, but he’d never even look at me twice,” he says, a touch miserably.
Instantly, Kibum punches his shoulder, hard. “Ouch! What was that for?” Jinki frowns.
“Don’t say such degrading things of yourself ever again if you value your life,” Kibum waves a spoon threateningly, as if he could somehow kill Jinki with it, or maybe with the remains of his cheese cake. “I will end you.”
“But it’s true!” Jinki protests. “What would I even say to him? ‘Hi I’m Jinki, me and my friend have been ogling you for almost half an hour now’?”
“Well, no,” Kibum admits. “But how about ‘hi I’m Jinki, wanna get dirty with me’?”
“Kibum!”
“Sorry, sorry.”
Jinki sighs, resting his cheek in his palm. “Maybe I’ll treat him to a cup of coffee or so?” He suggests, trying to figure out if he’d have the guts to do that. It’s not that he hasn’t hit on people before, he has had relationships thank you very much. It’s just that he isn’t exactly good at approaching people without somehow tripping over his words or, even worse, his feet.
“Doesn’t sound bad!” Kibum says, encouragingly, and gives his friend’s arm a slight push. “It’s worth a try at least.”
Jinki gives him a nervous smile, but finds himself nodding. “Okay I’ll just go and –” Swiftly, to give himself no time to reconsider, he stands up, grabs his coffee and turns around.
Only to promptly spill the coffee on the man passing by their table. “Oh my god! I’m sorry! So sorry!” Jinki has a short moment of panic, his eyes almost comically wide as he blindly grabs a fistful of tissues and tries to rub off the stain. It takes him a while to realize he’s rubbing a complete stranger’s stomach, even if it’s through the thin dress shirt, and he pulls his hand back as if he’s been burned. “Oh my god.”
The man laughs, softly, and his smile seems genuine as he waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
Only then Jinki looks up and he instantly feels even worse. The man really doesn’t seem like he minds, and he is pretty much as attractive as the man they’ve been ogling, the one he was supposed to try win over with his charms. “I. I can pay for the dry cleaning?”
“You don’t need to,” the man smiles, reaching out to grab the coffee stained tissues Jinki is still holding knuckles white. “But,” he says, considering Jinki’s appearance for a second, “we could get another cup of coffee? You seem to have misplaced half of yours on my shirt.”
Things like this only happen in romantic movies and Jinki knows, for a fact, that his life borders rather on a boring documentary or even a disaster movie, but never a romantic comedy. He doesn’t even register Kibum sniggering, his attention fully on the man in front of him. “Oh I’d love to but I’m here with a friend and –”
“Actually!” Kibum jumps up and smiles at the man, giving Jinki a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I gotta go, my boyfriend is probably missing me already!” He smirks, mouthing a have fun! at his friend.
Jinki desperately gestures for him to come back, but he just whistles and bounces out.
True to his word, Kibum doesn’t try to run away anymore. The next time he wakes up to an ache in his joints, an ache he knows will develop to a sharp sting that feels strong enough to split bones, he stays. He rolls over and bites his lip, squeezes his eyes shut so tight he can see faint fireworks painted on his eyelids. Blindly, he reaches out for the warm body he knows is right there next to him. He needs to somehow anchor himself or he’ll end up bolting. It’s much easier to run and hide, just like he’s always done.
The moment his fingers meet the soft cotton of Minho’s shirt he could swear he feels marginally better. Kibum shifts closer and buries his nose into Minho’s shoulder, inhales deep and lets the familiar scent soothe his raw nerves. Relax him until he even feels like he could fall asleep again, or at least doze off a little.
Minho sleeps deep enough that a little cuddling doesn’t wake him up. Then comes the night Kibum chokes a sob into his shoulder and he is pulled back from the dreamlands. “Kibum?” He grounds out, his voice gravelly and hoarse from the lack of sleep. There is no answer, no nothing, before another sob wrenches its way out and shakes Kibum just barely palpably.
“Kibum,” Minho repeats but this time it’s not a question, but instead a soothing whisper. He holds Kibum until morning, grateful for at least those few precious moments of sleep in between. This isn’t the first time they’ve gone through this together, but ever since Minho found out it has never been quite this bad.
It makes him feel helpless and inadequate. Minho is a doer, he wants to attack the source of the problem and get rid of it, tear it to pieces until it’s gone and life can go on its peaceful course again. Now, he has nothing corporal he can solve. There’s nothing tangible he can get rid of. He can just try to ease it the best he can, hoping that something, anything, he does will have some effect.
In the morning, Minho draws a hot bath for Kibum, hoping it will help him relax. He prepares him tea and brings it to bed, struggles to make something edible that isn’t just canned soup. Carefully he slides his long fingers over Kibum’s hipbone, over his thigh and the joints that hurt the most. The touch makes Kibum purr, his voice a little hoarse as he speaks. “That feels really nice, you know,” he says. “You should’ve become a massage therapist or something.”
Minho chuckles and shifts until he’s kneeling next to Kibum’s legs, running his palm along the back of his calf. “Was that a subtle hint to ask for more?” He teases, using his free hand to poke Kibum’s side. It makes him squirm and bury his face into the pillows, as he’s already lying on his stomach.
“Yes, oppa, I’m begging for more,” Kibum says, a hint breathlessly. Under other circumstances it might’ve even been a strange sort of a turn on, but now it simply makes Minho laugh and squeeze the leg he’s touching. Kibum is chuckling too, a grin dancing on his lips. The pain is only a distant throb somewhere in the background for now, and he thinks he might actually get through this in one piece.
“Then spread your legs,” Minho says, matter-of-fact. It surprises Kibum enough to look back over his shoulder, only to be met with an amused, dark gaze. “No, not like that,” Minho says and slaps Kibum’s thigh softly. “I’m not going to jump you now. Just wait.”
Kibum does as he’s told, and Minho takes it upon himself to give him a full-body massage. It’s pretty much heaven, if one asks Kibum, and he could swear he has never ever met anyone with such talented fingers. By the end of it he’s drifting off to sleep, feeling so relaxed he barely registers anything at all.
Just when he’s about to pass out he feels lips press on his cheek and a warm body curl up against him. He smiles.
After almost a week of very little sleep Minho kind of feels like he’s living in a haze. He’s never been a morning person but now getting up and going to work proves to be such a chore he spends most of the time before his lunch break just wandering around aimlessly. There haven’t been any bigger jobs recently anyway, and the most he has to do is with the photography course he is assigned to.
Six cups of coffee isn’t that unbelievable for him, but when he has those within the first hour at work, it’s a sign of something. Jinki instantly seems to pick on that, and wordlessly hands Minho the sugar, indulging him. “You look really tired,” Jinki says, his smile soft.
“Yeah.” Minho nods and downs half of his drink in one go. He rubs his eyes, practically feeling the tension seep off of his shoulders as the caffeine kicks in. “I’ll survive.”
Jinki keeps silent for a moment, before gently venturing forward. “It’s been bad again, eh?” They all know to stay back when Kibum needs his time alone, but Taemin insisted on a visit, and then informed the rest of the bunch of the circumstances.
Minho nods. Somehow, even when Kibum passes out somewhere during the early morning hours, he still stays awake, blinking into the silence, listening to the echoes of his own thoughts in the darkness. More often than not he’s been waking up to the smallest of sounds Kibum makes, hyper-sensitive to it even if normally it takes a freight train to wake him up.
“Tell him I’m thinking of him, okay?” Jinki offers.
That makes Minho smile and he nods again, reaching out to pat Jinki’s shoulder.
Later that day, when Jinki once again covers for him and fixes his mistakes before anyone else notices, Minho decides that he has the best bunch of friends in the world. Good things are worth waiting for.
Gradually, things get easier, back to normal. It might take a few afternoon naps after work and a weekend of nothing but sleep, but it’s nothing unsalvageable. As if to apologize for being a bother, Kibum makes sure he takes care of everything in the household for the following week. Eventually, they slip back to routine, as if nothing ever happened.
In the background, something shifts. It’s like those days twine them closer together, slot the last pieces into the puzzle.
On Sunday mornings Kibum gets up first. That’s mostly because it’s virtually impossible to drag Minho up from bed when he doesn’t need to go anywhere. Kibum doesn’t mind, he actually likes puttering around in the kitchen, humming to himself while he makes coffee and finds them something to eat.
Even though most mornings it’s just toast, when inspiration hits Kibum prepares something fancier. He can make quite nice pancakes and likes to experiment with them, regardless of the results. When he locates some raspberries in the freezer – he bought them for something, he is certain, but he can’t remember what – he decides on a whim to spice up this Sunday with raspberry pancakes.
The first pancake always burns and Kibum only picks the edible bits, humming in approval. He is a genius, he has always known that. So he makes the rest of the pancakes while flipping through the morning paper and sipping on hot coffee.
Finally the pile of pancakes is so big it looks like the breakfast for a family of at least a dozen kids. Kibum knows Minho’s appetite, though, and there is no doubt those will all be gone before it’s time for dinner. The thought makes him chuckle and he loads the coffee maker again, flicking it on before he heads back to the bedroom.
“Rise and shine baby!” Kibum announces his arrival. His weight is enough to make the springs creak in protest when he literally jumps on the bed. The next one to protest is Minho, who simply rolls over with a groan to bury his face in the pillow. Kibum has none of that, as he inches closer and pokes the other man’s side. “I made breakfast. Super delicious yummy breakfast. And you are obligated to enjoy it with me.”
The only response he gains is a muffled huff. “Dun wanna.”
“C’mon Minho,” Kibum says, “you’re not sleeping anymore, are you?” He climbs on top of the other man then, until he’s straddling Minho’s thighs and can place his palms on his butt. “I told you there’s breakfast!” He announces again, underlining every single word by pushing Minho’s bottom, each time a bit more forcefully.
The movement is so sudden Kibum can only shriek. The next thing he knows is that he’s lying on the bed, Minho half on top of him to pin him down. He blinks for a second, only to realize that Minho’s eyes are still closed, obviously in an intention to go on sleeping.
Kibum can’t allow that. He tries to fend Minho off, in vain. No matter if he tries pushing or tickling or kicking, he is doomed to just stay put and listen to the deep inhales.
That is, until he comes up with a perfect solution. Minho’s mouth is right there, inches of his own, his face relaxed in (fake?) sleep. Inwardly Kibum congratulates himself on the masterful plan, before he leans in and licks over Minho’s lips slowly, dirtily. He immediately gains a sleepy but nevertheless quite pleased sound, and it feels immensely rewarding.
The next time Kibum slips his tongue even further and initiates a kiss. Morning breath is gross and all, but he couldn’t really give a damn right now. Not when his senses are focused entirely on the sensual contact, on the way Minho is slowly beginning to take more active part in it, bit by bit.
Momentarily he remembers the breakfast. Then he decides one can always warm pancakes again, who cares.
Kibum certainly doesn’t care, not about something as trivial as food, not when Minho’s large hands finally slip underneath his shirt to map out every inch of skin he can reach. Kibum loves the slow, almost hesitant touches; the touches that tell him Minho is acting on instinct and still half asleep. There is none of the usual determination and straightforwardness, only sheer need to touch more, find more, gain more.
“You know,” Kibum purrs when he shifts and feels something hard press up against his thigh. “I think you can first reward me for making breakfast.” Minho huffs at that, but Kibum can feel the grin against his neck, where those full lips have migrated seconds prior. He shifts until he can slot himself properly underneath Minho’s body, trap him between his thighs and pull him closer against himself.
He has a few snarky remarks to offer but he gets to none of them. Somehow, Kibum’s brain turns off the second Minho slips his palms under the elastic of his waistband to push the garment down his hips. Oh well, two can play this game. It ensures that within seconds they’re rid of most their clothes, sans Kibum’s faded t-shirt.
There is familiarity to the push and pull of their bodies, in the way they know exactly where to touch and how to tease to make it just right. With well practiced ease, Kibum slides his legs around Minho’s hips and pulls him in. Breaths catch in throats, teeth find soft skin to mark, fingers get restless in their urge to touch.
It’s the perfect start for a morning, Kibum thinks, when Minho fucks him slow and deep.
The outcry that tears its way from Kibum’s throat gets lost in their kiss when he tips over the edge, shuddering with the sheer intensity of it. Minho keeps moving, his pace growing erratic and unsteady, before he finally stills and comes hard, his whole world momentarily tilting a little off axis.
One can still hear the slight hitch in Kibum’s breathing when he speaks, his lips moving against Minho’s collarbone. “What would I do without you?” It’s a faint whisper, silent enough to pass by unnoticed. A part of him even wants to take it back but he won’t, he can’t, so he just tilts his head and buries his nose into Minho’s neck instead.
A chuckle rumbles from Minho’s chest, his hold of his arms tightening for a second. “You’d jerk off,” he says, wisely.
The answer is immediate. “Oh you ass!”
Minho laughs when Kibum hits his chest, reaching to stop him. It’s almost too easy, and with his larger palm he cups Kibum’s fist. “I know, I know.” He snickers and pulls to wrap Kibum’s arm around his chest.
After a pause he actually answers the initial question, his voice considerably more quiet. “I don’t know. And I don’t want to find out.”
On Jonghyun’s birthday, he demands they all go out. There’s a new club a few blocks away from their regular ice cream place, and he’s been dying to check it out for a while now. None of the others have objections so that’s how they end up dressed to kill, navigating the masses of people in the dim lighting, occasionally interrupted by flickering bright neon colours.
Aside from it being Jonghyun’s special day, today is also an exciting occasion for another reason: it’s the first time any of them gets to properly meet Jinki’s new boyfriend. Turns out the man he met at the café and spilled his drink on was quite a good catch, and now they’ve been going out more or less regularly for a while. Kibum is the one who is the most excited about the new addition to their group, vibrating with energy every time he thinks he spots Jinki somewhere in the crowd.
“What can take them so long!?” Kibum says, irritated, and taps his fingers against his glass. His drink is obnoxiously orange, full of some indistinguishable fruit in a crazy mixture. He’s obviously getting nervous now that everyone else is there, except Taemin’s girlfriend, which reminds him to turn to Taemin to ask about it. “Where’s Minji?”
Taemin offers him a smile, too quick to be fully genuine, but he lets it pass. “She’s busy. But she says hi and sends congratulations to Jonghyun-hyung.” The birthday-boy grins at that and raises his drink in salute.
“She’s been busy quite often,” Kibum says and frowns. He’s deliberately ignoring the pointed looks he gets from Minho, the subtle cough from Hyein and the jab on the ribs from Jonghyun. He knows, very well, that Taemin isn’t telling them everything and that it’s not polite to prod for answers.
Taemin’s jaw sets and it’s a sign he won’t be saying anything further to the topic, regardless of what his friends say. It’s the kind of look that makes even Kibum back off, but not without a mental note to talk about this later in private.
They’re saved from an awkward moment, since Jinki chooses that moment to come tumbling in, almost literally. He’s beaming as he greets his friends and instantly pushes a tall, handsome stranger forward. “Hello, nice to meet you,” the man smiles politely, bowing. “I’m Joonho.”
“Oh we know,” Kibum nearly purrs, folding his fingers as he sets his chin on them, elbows propped on the table in front of him. “Now sit down, get a drink and we’ll get to know everything about you.”
The whole group roll their eyes at that but Joonho seems merely amused, laughing as he gives another curt bow and takes one of the free seats. Naturally, he grasps Jinki’s hand to pull him down next to him, which instantly makes Jinki’s smile turn up a notch.
Joonho is charming, witty, and despite not talking much he knows how to cut into conversation at just the right moments. His attention is always mainly on Jinki though, even if he doesn’t consciously show it all the time. It’s all there, in small gestures and subtle glances.
Later on, Kibum and Minho volunteer to get the bunch some drinks. While waiting they lean on the counter and watch the bartender work, while Kibum laughs and re-tells some hilarious joke Hyein – who miraculously doesn’t mind being the only girl in the group – shared earlier. Minho isn’t really listening, it’s way too loud around them anyway.
It isn’t until Kibum nudges him with his elbow that he looks at him again. “Are you moping?” Kibum asks. He is grinning, but there is genuine curiosity in his eyes.
Minho laughs. “No, I’m not moping.”
“It’s just that,” Kibum says, “you looked kind of annoyed earlier? And you kept shooting me these dark, brooding glances.” He leans in, right into Minho’s personal space, and instinctively Minho wraps an arm around his waist. Those gestures have turned to automatic between them neither of them really registers them most of the time, only realizing when they’re missing.
“Well,” Minho smirks. “You could stop flirting with Joonho. The man is taken. And in case you don’t remember, so are you.”
Kibum snorts at that, punching Minho’s side. “I remember, don’t you worry. Besides, haven’t you noticed how absolutely whipped the man is!? His world practically revolves around Jinki. …and vice versa.” He snickers as he rests his head on Minho’s shoulder, obviously more than pleased about the turn of events. “I am incredible. Too bad I don’t have more friends I could pair up.”
“You just took him out for coffee, Kibum. You didn’t exac–”
“Oh there are the drinks!” Kibum chirps and as he straightens he steps on Minho’s foot. Minho knows it’s on purpose.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Taemin asks warily as he eyes his friend. Kibum is sitting in the middle of the living room floor with huge heaps of clothes everywhere around him. There is the ‘yes’ pile, the ‘no’ pile, the ‘maybe’ pile and the ‘Taemin gets these’ pile. Taemin is a little nervous about the last pile since he can already spot a bright yellow and glittery shirt somewhere in there, and he knows he’ll have to try those on eventually.
“No I’m good,” Kibum says and waves his hand a little. “I’m almost through with these. Holy, can you believe I own this much clothes!?” He sighs as he lifts a pair of silvery pants from the unsorted heap, looking at them critically. Maybe he can still fit into these… they always made his rear end look absolutely stunning. Maybe pile it is.
“Yes, I can.” This time, Taemin doesn’t even look up from his textbook. He’s sprawled on his bed, his chin propped up on his palm as he flips through the thick manual. “I’m the one who went shopping with you twice a week for years, hyung.”
Kibum doesn’t grace him with an answer, not before he finds yet another interesting article of clothing. He pulls the lime green shirt up and presents it to his friend. “How about this?” He doesn’t wait for a reply though, but instead jumps up and grabs Taemin’s arm to tug on it. “C’mon try it. It’ll look fabulous on you!”
Taemin knows better than to protest. He allows Kibum to guide him in front of the big mirror on the closet door and pulls off his t-shirt. Soon enough he’s wearing the green long-sleeve, and he has to admit that it looks pretty nice. It’s a little baggy but it hangs off his shoulders neatly and makes them look broader.
“See? I told you it’d look stunning,” Kibum says. He’s practically purring in contentment as he pats Taemin’s sides and adjusts the shirt. “You should wear that to the student union party. It’s going to ensure Minji can’t get her eyes off you!”
Suddenly, there is tension in Taemin’s posture. He fidgets a little, nervous. It’s so obvious that Kibum instantly picks up the clues and fixes him with a stern look. “What is it?”
“Hyung,” Taemin sighs and for a moment it seems he’s not going to say anything further. Then, he sighs, his shoulders sagging. “I don’t think she’s going to be there.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Kibum asks, brows furrowed.
“We broke up.”
It’s a faint whisper, mumbled towards the floor. Kibum’s heart constricts at that, and wordlessly he pulls Taemin into a tight hug. They stay like that for what feels like a small eternity, Taemin’s face buried in Kibum’s shoulder and his hands fisted in his shirt.
Then Kibum ushers Taemin back into bed and wraps him into a bright pink blanket, makes him tea and urges him to eat. He stays the night and they talk, first about the break-up but then about everything under the sun, everything they can think of.
When Taemin falls asleep in the break of dawn, he has a definite feeling that things will turn out fine. Eventually.
Minho is tired, hungry and grumpy. As if it isn’t enough he has to stay work overtime, he also ends up missing his bus so he has to wait for the next one in the freezing cold wind. To top his bad luck he forgets his keys on his desk, which leaves him locked out of his own apartment. He can only pray that Kibum happens to be home, so that he doesn’t need to sit in the corridor for an undefined period of time.
All of his prayers are answered when he knocks on the door and hears rustling inside. He runs his fingers through his hair, breathing in deep to calm down. If he now gets food, today might turn out bearable after all.
The door creaks open and Minho raises his gaze. The sight that meets him already makes him gape. Kibum looks like he’s been expecting him, his hair mussed attractively and a slight flush on his cheeks, his eyes dark and inviting. The thing that hits home the most is that hint of a smirk though. It’s enough to make Minho swallow in an attempt to control himself.
“C’mon, Minho,” Kibum chuckles and reaches out to grasp Minho’s arms to pull him inside. Obediently Minho follows, dropping his bag right next to the door before it clicks shut. He’s guided into the living room, where two open pizza boxes wait for them on the table.
There’s a single candle between them, and for some reason that makes him laugh. “Real romantic, Kibum,” he smirks. The way he sneaks his arm around Kibum’s shoulders shows how much he appreciates the gesture though. “At least you ordered the pizza instead of buying it frozen.”
Kibum laughs and hits his bicep in retaliation. “I prepared everything!” he says. “There’s even dessert and before that,” he smirks, “the appetizer.” Swiftly he whirls around and wraps his arms around Minho’s neck, pressing against his chest.
The kiss that follows is slow, teasing, and for once Minho just lets himself get lost into it instead of trying to take the lead. He can already feel the tension seep off his bones, replaced by a whole different kind of alertness. A low moan slips Minho’s lips and on their own his hands find their way to the back of Kibum’s thighs, sliding up to his bottom. To his bare bottom. Only now Minho realizes that Kibum is only wearing a shirt, nothing else.
When that registers, Minho pulls back, eyes wide, his breath already coming in ragged gasps. “When you said you prepared everything..?” He begins, but never gets to finish the thought. Instead he gives Kibum’s butt a firm squeeze, eliciting a pleased sigh from him. Minho can’t resist the temptation, his groping fingers reaching further, until he feels the slickness.
“Including myself,” Kibum says with a grin.
(read the smut)
Even afterwards Kibum refuses to put on any clothes, apparently comfortable in the oversized t-shirt he’s stolen from Minho’s closet. He amends to covering the couch with a large bath towel, though, admitting that there might be some additional leakage. The words make Minho blush, and instantly Kibum is all up in his personal space, mouthing the soft skin beneath his ear. “You were the one who came inside of me. Now you gotta man up and deal with the consequences!”
“Shut up,” Minho says, but there’s no fire to it. He volunteers to heat their food and soon returns with it and some drinks. The candle is still lit and for a moment they sit there in silence, staring at the living flame while hogging down their pizzas. It’s the kind of silent companionship Minho always dreamed of, and for a second he feels his heart follow the fluttering of the fire.
“Hey, Kibum,” Minho says after a while. There is a rented movie lying on the table, forgotten, as neither of them felt like it. “What are we celebrating?” Not that he minds coming home to food, his horny boyfriend and a round of amazing sex. He simply suspects that there’s something else to it.
His suspicions are confirmed when Kibum smirks, leaning in to share a pizza-flavoured kiss with him. “Today,” Kibum begins theatrically, “it is the 777th day anniversary for us!”
Minho arches an eyebrow. “How did you even count that?” Truth to be told, he wouldn’t be able to tell a fixed date when they got together. He dearly hopes Kibum doesn’t expect such things from him. Sure if it’s a birthday or an engagement day or whatever, something concrete he can grasp.
“Easy,” Kibum says, “from the moment I told you I sneak glances at your dick.”
It seems to make perfect sense to him. In a way, it does, to Minho too. So Minho shrugs. “Cool. So you marked ownership by telling me you peek?”
“Something like that.” Kibum waves aside. “Today is also a special day because I brought in the rest of my crap. There are six boxes to sort through in the spare bedroom.” He takes a bite of his pizza, before throwing the crust back in the box. “Taemin says hi, Jinki says I have too much clothes and Jonghyun says I should make you carry the big boxes next time.”
“Sure,” Minho laughs.
“Jonghyun also says I should make sure you get laid enough,” Kibum smirks. “He really doesn’t want to come help me renovate. So he wants to make sure you’ll do all the manly work.” He makes air quotations at the last words.
They both know that Kibum is very well capable of moving furniture on his own if he sets out to it, but Minho just grins and promises he’ll do it. Why wouldn’t he? He’s more than ready to turn this apartment into a home for them both.
It’s been almost three years since Minho last saw Jaehee, and suddenly she tumbles into his life again. Not permanently, but already seeing her at the local supermarket is enough to shake Minho up a little. It’s not that he wants her back, but he hasn’t seen her even in a photograph after the break up and it feels all sorts of unreal.
Jaehee seems to share the sentiment since at first she simply stares. Finally her features melt into a soft smile and she approaches him gingerly. “Hi, Minho,” she tries, as if to see how his reaction will be.
Inwardly Minho thinks that he probably should turn around and walk away, but instead he simply shrugs and offers her a short hello. She suggests they go into a cafeteria to catch up, and while Minho sees no reason for catching up at this point, he agrees. He knows Kibum won’t be home from his lectures in a couple of hours still, so he has plenty of time to get back home.
Jaehee is beautiful with her large, clear eyes and oval face, her chestnut brown hair a waterfall of waves on her shoulders. She smiles over the cup of coffee, slightly hesitant in her words. “You look happy.” She offers, and Minho suspects she’s right. He doesn’t remember ever being this content with his life. “Are you seeing someone?” she asks, when he doesn’t speak a word.
“Yes,” he says. He thinks of this morning, of Kibum nagging at him for dismantling the morning paper again, of the black coffee and the eggs they burnt due to an impromptu make out session. He thinks of the kiss that tasted of peppermint toothpaste, thinks of the flash of irritation at his notes being messed thanks to someone’s spring cleaning.
Suddenly, Minho realizes he’s smiling. A bright, happy smile that reaches all the way to his eyes. And when he looks at Jaehee over the table he doesn’t see a woman he shares a special bond with. He sees a person he doesn’t even know anymore.
It feels like he finally hears the door to his past click shut, once and for all.
He pays the coffee, chats with her for a moment out of politeness, and all the time in the back of his mind he thinks of the moment he gets to go back home. Not back to his apartment, but back to his home.
It seems fitting that when Minho gets back home Kibum is already there, sitting on the same worn couch Minho slept on when he returned to an empty apartment with his earlier life gone. Kibum is flipping through a magazine, mouth pursed in concentration as his mind already works on whatever projects he could launch from the ideas he has.
There’s a splash of warmth in Minho’s chest. He goes straight to Kibum, leans down and kisses him deep. Kibum’s lips part easily for him and he melts into it. Only when it breaks Kibum arches an eyebrow questioningly, as if asking where that now came from.
Minho just grins and grabs him below his armpits to lift him off the couch. “C’mon, I’ll make us something to eat. Let’s see if I manage non-burnt eggs this time.”
“What is your ideal type, Minho?”
“Someone nice, and pretty. Someone who will go to soccer matches with me and make me dinner. Someone I’ll want to marry.”
Minho supposes he chose fairly well.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
---
(18 199 words, cutout included)
This is also known as “the fic with tons of pointless dialogue, in which Kibum changes favourites, Taemin is babied, and Minho fails at
…honestly? idk. I just really really wanted to write minkey ;-; and watched the figure skating European championships. blame this on that \o/
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