Work Text:
Minho glances down at his watch and frowns at the time. He doesn’t want to forgo the flowers, but if that’s what it takes to be on time…
Since he has nothing else to do whilst he waits, Minho gets out his phone and makes a list of the pros and cons of getting flowers.
“Shit.” He says aloud. According to his calculations, the flowers are pretty much a must. His swearing earns him a look from a mother clutching her son by his wrist beside him on the platform; the trains are delayed due to repair work closing one line. Because he himself makes a point of not scowling at strangers, he feels vaguely offended when strangers scowl at him, though he supposes, as much as he doesn’t usually swear, his language does deserve him the glare. In fact, he applauds the mother on actually bothering about profanity; if the media is anything to go by, the whole world spits swear words left, right and centre.
Minho’s phone buzzes in his pocket in the midst of the stampede to get on the train and he forgets about it until he pulls it out to play Sudoku. He sees the line of sparkles that constitutes Key’s name in his contact list and can’t stop himself from smiling.
heard ur usual line is shut. don’t bother going hm i’ve brought u clothes.
You’re a life-saver.
i only accept 10 minutes lateness. move ur ass.
I thought you said I didn’t have one.
it’s a figure of speech you snarky bastard.
Minho laughs self-deprecatingly; loud enough that the man stood pressed up to him scowls. Minho doesn’t understand all this scowling, he really doesn’t, no wonder they say people age faster in the city. They give themselves wrinkles.
How’d you have my clothes anyway?
omfg u gave me ur spare key don’t u remember??
Minho knows his mother judges him for giving his spare key away when they’d only been dating for three weeks, as much as she likes Key. Hell, he knows he’d probably judge somebody else for doing the same. But he can’t seem to slow things down. He doesn’t even want to.
He pats his pocket where Key’s spare key lies against his and just manages to stop himself smiling like a fool. Minho has always thought himself the right balance of sensible and romantic. It’s the first time in his life that he’s found somebody who makes him feel like sensible and romantic aren’t two different ends of a spectrum. Everything’s a lot less calculated than that, a lot less hassle. He’s finding it easier and easier to be sappy and fond without having to go out of his way to do ‘romantic things’. In short, he’s never been more comfortable around another person before.
Minho nearly gets off at his stop but before he can do so, his phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Minho, don’t get off the train!”
Minho jolts and starts to form indignant words before he realises he’s teetering on the edge of the carriage. Silently, he sidles back aboard. Key takes his silence as confirmation and Minho flinches at the cackle that comes down the line.
“I knew it! Jinki, pay up.”
Minho makes an affronted noise. “You were betting?”
“He said you were organised.”
Feeling intrepid, Minho asks the expected, “And what did you say?”
“You’re a creature of habit.” Minho laughs softly. “If you want to do the barbecue, you need to hurry. I’m scared, Jinki’s volunteered as tribute and Jonghyun’s going to think it’s all hilarious until Jinki burns down his house by accident.”
“Yes, thank you. My day was good, how was yours?” Minho says pointedly. He can practically hear Key rolling his eyes, before Key gasps.
“Oh my God, no Taemin that’s flammable!”
Minho’s sort of glad Key hangs up because their calls have all been ending awkwardly over the last week, in a way they’ve never experienced awkwardness before. Tension, both sexual and angry, sure. There was that time Key gave Minho the cold shoulder for two days. But it wasn’t awkward.
Minho’s not an idiot, as much as Key likes to say he is. He knows it’s because, where they are in their relationship, it feels like they should hang up after saying ‘I love you’. But neither of them have said it yet.
Now Minho has a second to think about it, as he checks his hair in the reflection of the closed train doors, it’s strange how they’ve been avoiding the topic.
Both are firm believers that communication is key (no pun intended). They’ve been, if Minho says so himself, brilliant at talking to each other, especially if something is in danger of impacting their relationship, without over-sharing. Their friends are surprised with how well they deal with trials and tribulations, probably because Key gives off 'over-reaction diva' vibes and they both take almost sadistic pleasure from winding each other up.
Minho jumps when the doors open. Stepping out smartly, he quickly consults the map in his head, the flowers shop reviews stored in the back of his brain, and takes the West exit.
To their friends’ surprise, it’s actually Minho who bottles stuff up and causes the most confusion. He’s not used to telling people when he’s got something on his mind. Key, because he’s got a sixth sense when it comes to these things, always bluntly asks what's wrong; he insists he’s just good at observing others’ emotions and pays particular attention to those close to him, but Minho is convinced he’s psychic.
The wonderful thing - one of the many wonderful things - about Key is that Minho has no reason to hide things, for though Key can work himself up and gets quickly upset, he calms down just as fast and neither of them hold grudges. At the end of the day, their arguments are based upon flirting, and it’s no secret Key gets off on being ordered around.
“Good evening sir, how may I help you?”
Despite moving so fast - they’ve exchanged keys and Minho lives at Key's flat most of the time anyway (Key's eclectic and colourful decorating tastes and his company are a huge improvement on Minho's monochrome and empty flat even if Key's apartment is smaller) - they make sure to spend time away from each other.
“Oh these smell nice. Yeah, I’ll take the pink lilies please, and if you could do the nice wrapping thing? Yes, thank you.”
Just the other weekend, Minho went on a lad’s weekend with his mates from work; for all of his routines and meticulous precision, Minho’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie and his boss has a chalet in the mountains, and they all go there to go paragliding and extreme skiing. He’d come back and Key had been waiting in his apartment with dinner ready. Jonghyun said their domesticity was sickening.
Speaking of Jonghyun, Minho hides the flowers behind his back and raps his knuckles against the door of Jonghyun’s house.
Jonghyun flings the door open, “Key! Your giant freak pet is here again!” So, Jonghyun might have a hint of small man syndrome, you can’t really blame him.
“Great to see you too Jjong.”
“I take it those aren’t for me?” Jonghyun ignores him, eyeing the flowers. Minho has no idea how he was first intimidated by this guy (except for the fact that, you know, even dressed in old ripped jeans and an ancient jersey Jonghyun is still really pretty and Minho had wanted to earn the best friend vote of approval - he needn’t have worried, Jonghyun had been won over the second he learnt how they’d met).
Jonghyun beats a tactic retreat as Key slinks down the hallway - Minho is certain he’s never seen him merely walk, it’s always purposeful strides or graceful slinking - with a bright smile on his face. “You made it! I was afraid you’d get lost.”
Would it be too gross to say that Minho feels lighter for seeing Key’s smile?
“I brought flowers.” Key bites down on the usual cutting words and dimples at him, all his sharp lines melting.
“Thank you.” Key’s quick fingers latch onto Minho’s shirt collar and he pulls him down for a kiss, swiftly slipping his hot tongue into Minho’s mouth. Key tastes like mint and his soft lilac hair smells like lavender and Minho’s stomach feels warm, a balloon of happiness inflating in his chest so he could almost float away. “Come in then.”
Key threads their fingers together and tugs him through to Jonghyun’s kitchen, stumbling to a halt before they go out into the garden. The sparkle in his eyes makes Minho simultaneously excited and nervous.
“Oh no, what’re you plotting now?”
“Don’t ‘oh no’ me. So you know how I said Jinki would be perfect for Taemin?” Minho groans aloud, earning himself a smack on the arm. “Don’t you care about the potential happiness of your friends?”
“They seem quite happy already, without you meddling.”
“I don’t meddle!”
“You do.” Jonghyun says, appearing with bottles of beer in his hands. Minho gratefully accepts both beer and back up. “So what’s the plan?” Ok, so maybe the back up is not as forthcoming as he’d like. Minho takes a huge gulp of alcohol and wishes momentarily that it were something a little stronger.
Key whines, “I don’t have a plan. They’re ignoring each other.” Minho frowns at that and the three of them simultaneously look out of the window above the sink to where Jinki and Taemin are standing in the garden.
The awkwardness seeps through the glass and Minho winces. Jinki is mournfully poking the uncooked meat and Taemin is glancing at Jinki as he rolls a cool beer bottle over his forehead. Taemin huffs and gulps the beer down and Jinki watches him out of the corner of his eye.
Jonghyun obviously catches the way they’re sneaking looks at each other at the same time Minho does. He turns to Key earnestly and grips his best friend’s forearms tightly. Key meets into Jonghyun’s intense stare eagerly and Minho wonders if he’s spent too much time around Key as he rolls his eyes at the pair of them.
“Don’t worry.” Jonghyun says, voice shaking with emotion. “There is hope.”
Jinki breaks into his signature smile when he sees Minho, pulling him into a hug and ruffling Minho’s neat hair before accepting the beer Key offered.
“Work not too bad today?” Minho grins.
“Why thank you for asking!” Key kicks him without even pausing in the middle of questioning Taemin about his recent job interview. “Nah. Still couldn’t wait to get out. Shoved unimportant things off for tomorrow so I could leave earlier and spend more time with all of you.”
Jinki laughs, obviously pleased. “I was banned from touching the barbecue and we’re all starving so you’d better crack on.” He pats Minho’s arse affectionately.
“Excuse me! That is mine!” Key exclaims, rushing forward to do a drumroll on Minho’s bum, to his extreme embarrassment and everyone else’s huge enjoyment. Key cackles, delighted.
“I came to have a good time but I’m feeling so attacked right now.”
“Are you ok?” Taemin asks sincerely. Minho smiles at him and messes Taemin’s hair much like Jinki had to him.
“Nice to know somebody cares for me, hey Taem.”
“Hey, they care for you too.” Minho winks.
“It’s ok, I was joking.” Taemin blinks at him rapidly, then sticks his tongue out.
“I was joking too, then. Nobody likes you. Here.” Minho has no idea where Taemin got the tongs from but he’s suddenly brandishing them in his face. “Get to work, peasant.”
Minho is stunned and Key is almost crying with laughter. Jonghyun’s giggles are so high-pitched, Minho wonders if he’s trying to communicate with distant dolphins or something. He thinks the zoo is nearby.
Suddenly Key is kissing him, “You’re so cute when you’re shocked. Your big eyes get even bigger and your little mouth hangs open~”
Jonghyun makes gagging sounds. “Yeah, no thank you.”
“Sorry.” Key doesn’t look very apologetic. Minho turns back to the cooking meat to hide his blush.
Key finds Jonghyun’s speakers and puts on a mellow playlist, obliging Minho’s unspoken request by dancing to the girl group ones (Minho’s personal favourite is Red Velvet’s cover of Be Natural. Key’s lilac hair flicking around him makes Minho’s heart race in a way that probably wasn’t particularly appropriate for polite company).
Jinki bobs along to all of them (utterly off beat), and Taemin hums (totally out of tune), and Jonghyun entertains them all by turning his skewer making into a cooking show. When Key’s not nipping in and out of the kitchen keeping them all well supplied with beer or, in Jonghyun’s case, cider, he’s bumping hips with Minho by the barbecue. Every now and then he turns his head too fast and his ponytail whips against Minho’s neck, but he always rolls his eyes and kisses Minho’s collarbone in compensation because Minho has him well trained like that.
When Key first declared he was growing out his hair, Minho had been sceptical, but a week and a lilac dye later, Minho has given in. It’s impossible not to like it when Key is so obviously delighted with his long locks (and being able to lace his fingers in it and tug hard during sex may or may not be a contributing factor to Minho’s rapidly increasing fondness for it).
“Hey, Taeminnie?” Minho side-eyes Key because that tone of voice always spells trouble.
Taemin, splayed on a sun lounge staring at the low sun, doesn’t seem to hear him so Key kneels down beside him and pats his thigh. It takes a while but Taemin finally notices him.
“Sorry.” He says, shyly rubbing the back of his neck where his black hair is spikey enough to scratch against his fingers.
“It’s ok. Could you go and make the salad?”
Key watches Taemin inside, and then pounces on Jinki and really; Minho had just been waiting for this. He stifles his sigh into a taste of the beef and it quickly turns into an appreciative moan. Almost done.
He has no idea what shit Key says to Jinki but the next thing he sees is Jinki duly heading inside too.
“I hope you’re right.” He says, feeding Key a cut of the beef. Minho’s eyes track the way Key’s tongue flicks over his lips.
“I’m always right when it comes to this sort of thing. Believe me, they’re perfect for each other.” Minho hums. “Leave your meat, it’ll survive without you for a second.”
“Wait, it’s almost don-“
Key pouts at him and Minho can’t deny that’s he’s interested too. So they sneak over to peer through the kitchen window. Jonghyun, on the other sun lounger, snorts at them and goes back to sleep.
They watch for a while in silence, straining to hear through the slightly open window, before Minho can’t stand it any longer and whispers, “Shit, should we do something?” He looks at Key and finds him biting his lip hard enough to make the skin white.
“N-no, I think it’s ok.”
Inside the kitchen, Jinki is chopping vegetables and seems totally unaware of how Taemin, standing beside him, has dropped the carrot peeler and is standing stock still, staring at the wall in front of him, body vibrating with tension.
Finally Jinki glances up at him and lets out a little ‘oh’ sound.
“Um, Taemin?” Taemin jumps and meets Jinki’s worried gaze. “Are you ok? You don’t look so good.” He reaches up and places the back of his hand on Taemin’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm…”
A little distressed noise comes choking out of Taemin’s throat and his hands come to life, flapping by his eyes as he stumbles away from Jinki. His legs give way and he crawls into the corner of the cabinets where the cabinets on two sides make him feel safer. Jinki seems frozen as he watches as the fingers of Taemin’s left hand flick the underside of Taemin’s jaw and the right continues to flap in the corner of Taemin’s vision.
Jinki takes a deep breath and kneels a little way, not too close so as to crowd Taemin. “Hey, hey, don’t flick yourself.” He says in his calming voice, the one that he reserves for the patients in his paediatrician practice.
Taemin focuses on him but doesn’t stop flicking so Jinki smiles gently and takes Taemin’s right hand and places it on his. Taemin flinches at the touch and squints at Jinki in confusion. “You can smack here it’s ok.” Jinki makes Taemin flap his hand and flick his fingers against Jinki’s palm until Taemin gets the gist and does it himself. The soft, rhythmic clapping sound unknots some of the tension in Taemin’s shoulders.
“Taem-ah? Could you lift your chin?” Taemin blinks at him, his hand stuttering against Jinki’s palm. With his free hand, Jinki taps under Taemin’s chin and realisation lights Taemin’s eyes. He half-laughs and uses his right hand to pull on the chain around his neck, slipping the cold stone tied there into his mouth. He smiles around the sucking and Jinki returns it with his radiant grin.
Taemin’s hand comes to a rest on top of Jinki’s and his other hand stops flapping and he blushes.
“It’s ok.” Jinki hurries to reassure. There’s a brief pause before Jinki says, “I’m sorry if I did anything wrong.” Taemin shakes his head so vehemently he almost brains himself on the cabinet. “Thanks.” The pause here is less awkward, both calming down.
Eventually, Jinki speaks again. “Do you want to stand? Key will be missing his salad.” Jinki pulls Taemin carefully to his feet and there’s a fleeting moment where they’re still holding hands, before Jinki leaps away, laughing slightly at himself. “I’ll do the carrots. Could you-?“ Taemin nods, happily. This time the distance between them as they stand side by side isn’t filled with awkward electricity.
Key pulls Minho back to the barbecue and they high-five and do a celebratory dance until Jonghyun wakes up and hisses at Key to tell him what happened and Minho belatedly remembers his meat.
Despite the meat being slightly more charred than Minho’s inner master chef would have liked, dinner is a success. They sit around in Jonghyun’s garden, the setting sun casting warm light over their faces and mildly warming their skin. Minho sits with Key plastered against his side, Key’s hair tickling his arm.
“Mm, I love you in red.” Key says, walking his fingers along Minho’s bare legs beneath the dark red shorts.
“I love you in nothing.” Minho says and Jonghyun’s entire face spasms.
“Ew, stop, have some sympathy for the resident aro ace please.”
Key kisses Minho’s jaw and winks at Jonghyun across the circle. “Just for you Jjong.”
“I fucking love meat.” says Taemin.
Jinki nods in agreement, from where he’s sat next to Taemin, almost as close as Minho is to Key, “Minho’s always been handy with tongs.”
“That’s not the only thing he’s handy with.”
“Oh my gOD KIM KIBUM.”
“If you were wondering, I’m pretty handy with an axe so if you guys want to hold him down?” Minho contributes. Jonghyun offers him a fist-bump and Key offers him a slap on the wrist. “Call 0800 1111, I’m being abused.”
Jinki wrinkles his forehead at his best friend, “You know that’s Childline, right?”
“Appropriate then.” Key notes casually. Jonghyun giggles and Key looks far too self-satisfied.
“I think.” Taemin announces, standing up suddenly. “That we have not had enough to drink.”
“You’ve cleaned my fridge of beer!”
“Jjong you drink cider, shut up.” Jonghyun splutters, probably about to launch into a homily about the horrors of 21st century drinking culture. “What’ve you got?”
“Not much. If I want to hard-core drink I go out clubbing with friends. I’m a wine and cider guy.”
“I’m sure you have some shitty cheap bottles lying around.” Key gripes, dimpling at Jonghyun. Minho hides his chuckle in Key’s hair and Jonghyun gives in.
By the time Taemin suggests a bonfire, Jonghyun’s too sloshed to complain much.
Key’s magicked some marshmallows out of somewhere and Jinki rummages through Jonghyun’s cupboard until he finds metal sticks for them to roast the marshmallows. Key licks the melty mallow off the stick and his fingers and says, “So, my hairdresser is in love with her best friend, that fire-fighter from the Green Street station with the cute brown hair and big eyes, only I’m 99% sure he’s gay. Should I tell her or not?”
Jonghyun frowns, “You shouldn’t speculate about other people’s sexuality.”
“Jjong, my gaydar is never wrong.” Jonghyun gives him a look. “Ok, so apart from the one time in Prague-“
“Wait!” Taemin gasps. “The fire-fighter with the big eyes and scruffy beard? I’ve sucked his dick!”
“Shit, Jjong I knew I was right!”
“Taemin you can’t just say that!”
“Why not? I did suck his-”
“Just not so loud, alright?”
“Alright, alright.”
“Wait, so he’s definitely gay?”
Key nods, “Or bi or something. Not straight, that’s for sure.”
“What the hell?” Jinki yells. “I propositioned him and he said he was straight!”
Key cackles and even Jonghyun laughs and Minho can’t help himself from chuckling at the furious flush on Jinki’s face and the way Taemin is patting Jinki’s arm sympathetically.
“It’s ok, Jinki, I wouldn’t mind suck-“
Key yells, “Lee Taemin stop right there!”
----------------
“You’re terrible.” Minho chuckles as Key squeezes his sides with his pointy knees.
“You’re taaaall~” Key says down his ear, from where he’s clinging onto Minho’s back.
Minho doesn’t know how Key convinced him to give him a piggyback because, “You’re heavier than you look, y’know.”
Key twists his legs and kicks him on the arse with a bare foot. Minho doesn’t know when he lost his shoes. “You’re just weak.”
“You’re just drunk.” Minho states the obvious.
“You’re drunk too! Oh noooo, Minho, I’m drink-driving.”
“You’re-?”
“Minho, are you ok with being a horse or would you rather be a bus? You’re very skinny and sporty so maybe you’re a Ferrari.” Key says, and then growls into Minho’s hair. “Sports cars are tooootally sexy.”
“I’m totally sexy.” Minho parrots, once more stating the obvious.
“Mm hmm.” Key hums, nuzzling his nose into the soft hair in Minho’s nape. “Wanna have sex when we get home?”
Minho squints at a streetlight and it turns into a star. “D’you want to use the ropes again?”
Key tosses his head back and laughs, the motion throwing Minho off balance so they almost topple over. “Sorry, sorry. Thanks for doing that.”
“What, carrying you or not being insulted when you said you wanted to spice up our sex life?”
“No, be serious.” Key cuffs him around the head.
“I’ll drop you.”
“I haven’t got shoes. Listen, thank you for being so…understanding and sweet about the whole tying me up thing. I really appreciate it.” Minho smiles at the lilt of embarrassment in Key’s voice.
“You’re welcome sweetheart. I enjoy it too, ok?” He’s expecting a smart remark about his orgasms already giving perfectly legitimate evidence for his enjoyment, but instead Key just hums again and hugs him tighter. “But maybe tonight we could just-“
“Yeah. Yeah, I want that too.” Minho picks up the pace, Key’s kisses and kitten-licks across his neck and ears and shoulders promising at more.
“Thank you for today.” Minho says as he pulls on a soft sleeping top. Key pokes his head around the bathroom door and smiles at him through the toothpaste bubbles. He makes a happy humming noise then returns to brushing his teeth, and when he comes out again, teeth and face clean and hair pulled back into a ponytail, it’s to find Minho posing on the rumpled bed sheets. Key rolls his eyes and switches on the little light by the sink before turning the bathroom main light off and pulling the door to.
“You’re ridiculous. Do those even constitute shorts? I thought you’d have fancy Calvin Klein sleepwear.”
“Do I look like somebody who cares that much?” Minho retorts. An affronted noise comes from the back of Key’s throat, and then he’s coughing. “Are you ok?” Key shoots him a glare and Minho holds up his hands placatingly, “Hey. I didn’t ask you to suck my cock. You offered.”
Minho wonders how Key can roll his eyes so often.
“Min, aren’t we going to change the covers?” Key ponders, scratching lightly at his temple as he has wont to.
Minho, propped up on his elbows, groans and lets his head drop back. “God, it’s too much effort.”
Key laughs, “You sound like me. Get off your backside.”
“Excuse you?”
“Spare sheets are in the cupboard down the-“
“Hall on the right. I know.” Minho heaves himself off the bed and pouts when he realises he’s going to miss Key changing. Key notices and, because Minho is at least 98% sure he’s psychic, smirks at him knowingly.
“We just had sex, are you kidding.” He deadpans, before whipping off his shirt. Minho is still a little confused as to why Key was still wearing one in the first place. He must’ve been rather drunk earlier not to have rid Key of all clothes then, especially considering how sensitive Key’s nipples are; peering back through his hazy memories, everything’s just a hot blur of Key’s familiar body and the softness of the sheets against his bare skin.
He just feels pleasantly tipsy now, though, enough to make the flat warmer than normal, both in colour and heat. He catches one of Key’s wrists and kisses the fluttering pulse there, almost absentmindedly. After noting the flush on Key’s high cheekbones - which God, he always wants to lick, all the bloody time - Minho drags himself down the hallway.
Key is lying face down on the sheet-less bed when Minho stumbles back into the bedroom. Minho’s very confused because he thinks he recognises the baggy t-shirt Key is wearing as one of his, but he wasn’t aware he had transferred quite so many of his clothes to Key’s apartment yet. The moment when Minho stops wondering about the shirt and the moment he realises Key’s not wearing under it are probably related. Key grumbles at him to hurry up, wiggling his toes at him without looking. Minho wants to kiss the smooth curves of Key’s perky arse, but more than that wants to crawl into bed and snuggle with him.
“Am I getting too old?” He wonders, as he pushes at Key with his foot so they can pull the sheets on together. Key dutifully rolls off the bed and almost whacks his elbow on the floor.
“Yes.” Key says, and then asks, “Why?”
“You’re doing a cute naked thing but I just want to snuggle.”
Key giggles, “It’s ok, I like older men. Besides we just fucked so I guess I can forgive you~” He giggles more than Minho does anyway - Minho isn’t aware of ever having giggled now he thinks about it - but is especially prone to giggling when drunk. Minho thinks it’s adorable and feels sick at his own romanticism. Key is slowly ruining him, of that he’s certain.
They bicker gently as they tug the sheets into place. Key gets his legs tangled up in the old ones and whines when he almost falls over and all Minho does is laugh.
Eventually they’re in bed with most of the lights off. Key usually flicks through The Week before he goes to sleep but tonight he’s still slightly tipsy and very tired so he dives straight over to cuddle with Minho.
“Hugs.” He says and Minho smiles sleepily in agreement, opening his arms. A thought strikes and he whispers, “Min, we forgot the flowers.”
“It’s ok, we can get them tomorrow. I’m sure Jjong will take care of them.” Key buries his laugh of disbelief into the pillow.
Minho is tall and has these strong, long limbs that curve around Key like he’s something precious to be protected and hold Key close. Key feels so safe in Minho’s arms, as though nothing can touch him.
Minho is so courteous without being patronising, he’s interested and enquiring without being invasive, he’s the perfect mix of wild and steady. As for Minho, he finds Key so intriguing, so witty and righteous and Minho always wants to know more, more, more.
Being the big spoon to Key’s little spoon makes Minho feel warm, and not just from where his chest is flush to Key’s spine. He loves that Key, proud and independent, gives himself up to Minho like this, lets Minho take care of him. It makes Minho feel imbued with a deep sense of purpose, as though all he needs to do to succeed is to protect the slim, soft person who lies beside him.
After a while, Key’s chest moves regularly, his breath puffing out in constant rhythm. Minho nuzzles his head into the dip between Key’s shoulder blades and watches his finger as he carefully writes ‘I love you’ across Key’s back. The forgiving light of the bedside lamp washing everything into warm shades of gold, catching in the threads of Key’s beautiful long hair, as Minho traces the words into Key’s spine over and over.
He feels so relaxed and so so happy.
Suddenly, Key shifts and Minho freezes. When he raises his eyes from Key’s back, it’s to meet Key’s gaze.
“I love you too.” Key says, eyes like molten sunlight, misted around the edges by alcohol and warm like rain evaporating in the resurgent rays. “Will you move in with me?”
Minho kisses him. “Yes.”