The Cell Phone (1/2)

It was one of those tragic yet sweet love stories that people would falsely compared to that of Romeo and Juliet. The kind of story that made people with hearts of stone and desert tears take a stroll by the oasis of empathy to pay their respects to the two young lovers. The story of a love not only forbidden by society, but also by cupid’s unyielding arrow. And what would motivate one to read such a sad tale?

The answer is quite simple.

The reader wants to know how it ends.

Three years.

For three years, two months, one week, three days, five hours, twenty-eight minutes, and fifty-seven seconds...

That is how long Taemin had been loving Choi Minho.

His voice, even though it was never directed toward him. His smile, though it always seemed to be for someone else. His body, even though he knew he could never touch it. Lee Taemin loved everything about Choi Minho from the second he saw him. And it was at that moment that Taemin had to make sure he never got near Minho. Never. He couldn’t afford to get near someone so perfect. He could afford to be that happy. No matter how he looked at the situation, no matter how many scenarios and excuses he made, Taemin just could not do it.

So for three years, Taemin worshipped Minho like a god, finding comfort in Minho’s form, but feeling horribly inadequate when he realized how far away his dearest god really was. He would hide behind walls and people, watching Minho and taking little mental notes about him. And why put in so much effort to learn about someone he shan't talk to? Because like any other lovelorn person, Taemin had a little fantasy in the back of his mind. A fantasy where Minho would confess his undying love for Taemin, and Taemin would already have all of the needed information to love him back properly.

And while Taemin knew his fantasy could never become a reality, just the mere act of thinking about it whilst looking at his secretly beloved what enough to send Taemin through the meadows of euphoria, even if just for a little while.

For three years, two months, one week, three days, five hours, twenty-eight minutes, and fifty-seven seconds, Choi Minho felt the exact same way.

From the second he laid eyes on Taemin, Minho knew he was in love. The way he smiled and moved... Taemin’s grace and beauty put every girl to shame. He was the most angelic creature Minho had ever seen, and he refused to have eyes for anyone else after first spotting him. He was just perfect. There was nothing more to it. And while Minho wanted so desperately to introduce himself to Lee Taemin, to learn about him and fall further in love with him, he couldn’t.

Every time Minho tried to approach Taemin, the sweet looking boy that he loved moved away. And why? Why was he moving away so quickly from Minho? Was he that turned off? Did he have something against Minho that he refused to reveal? Whatever the case, it broke the young athlete’s heart. School days would come and go, and each night that Minho got home, he’d lay in his bed and think. He’d think about all the wonderful things he wanted to say to Taemin. All the confessions he wanted to pronounce and the memories he wanted them to make together. But at the same time, if Taemin really didn’t love Minho, and he wanted to keep his distance that badly, Minho would obey. The last thing he wanted was to make his gorgeous angel upset.

So throughout those three years, both boys admired from afar, only being able to get satisfaction from the glances and small phrases they heard from each other. They had both nearly accepted their fate. The fate to be like two repelling magnets, never being able to touch one another.

That is, until late September, on their walks home, someone decided to crush the two magnets together and make them touch. Was it fate’s way of taking pity on them? Or was it the byproduct of their genuine desire to finally meet each other? Either way, it wasn’t exactly the most...graceful meeting.

Taemin lugged himself down the sidewalk, as per usual, not very enthused about returning to a home where his family acted like he didn’t exist. Admittedly, it would be different if they were abusive and dysfunctional while ignoring his existence. But no. They were a happy and perfect trio of a family, that just so happened to have a room for their son that didn’t exist. Realistically, if Taemin ran away tomorrow, it would not make a difference. Their lives would carry on as normal, and there would just be a little more food leftover from dinner every night.

Minho, walking in the opposite direction, parted ways with his friends on the soccer team, and strolled down the sidewalk, his mind wandering to the depths of his dreams, where he was with his angel once again. He imagined stroking his soft looking hair, looking into those pulchritudinous eyes, pressing his own lips to those smooth, plump-

He was literally knocked out of his daze, bumping into someone and falling over, some of the contents of his book bag falling out, spread across the ground. He stood up and looked at who he’d bumped into, only to have his heart stop at the sight. His dear, darling angel sat on the ground, grabbing his things frantically and putting them back in his bag.