Chapter 1. (1/1)

The weather is warm.Alright, strike that. That is a gross understatement. To say that the current weather is merely ‘warm’ is like comparing a glacier to an ice cube. Similar nature, but the scale is astronomically different. Because if it’s only warm, Minho will not be lying, spread-eagled in the middle of his living room, perspiring.Although, the word ‘sweating’ will better capture the feeling of the moment. But as his English professor has once lectured Minho, ‘sweating’ is primarily reserved for animals. Humans perspire, animals sweat. Minho has no idea why, but it is one of the few memories he still retains of his eccentric professor, and as such, he abides by the teaching even though he knows it is erroneous.Perspire; sweat, humans do both very well.And in this instance, Minho feels that the usage of the more elegant form inadequately describes his current situation, because it is in no sense elegant. Trapped in his ruffled buttoned-downs and slacks, Minho stews in the humid summer heat. Sweat beading on his forehead, pooling in the sunken recess between his clavicle and jugular, Minho breathes shallowly, feeling the oppressive weather stifling his thoughts and clogging his mind.And it is no help that his air-conditioner chooses this month, of all months to break down. Why it can’t break down during the cool autumn, Minho has no idea why. But the fact that it opts to break down during, Minho swears, the hottest summer in the decade makes him suspect a terrible conspiracy. Or maybe, a grudge that his air-conditioner holds against him.But Minho is a busy man. Surely, his air-conditioner can’t blame him for forgetting to schedule regular maintenance for it? Being the deputy managing director of NH Consulting, which holds an impressive client list of Disney, Cisco and GlaxoSmithKline to name a few, offers him some leniency, doesn’t it?Apparently, his air-conditioner cares nothing for leniency. Break down means break down, because despite Minho’s best efforts to will his air-conditioner back into function, it is useless.Minho breathes a soft sigh, too lethargic and tired to even heave a heavy one. He does his best to slow his beating heart.He may be no biology major, but as far as he is aware of, the slower the heart beats, the lesser the energy used. And as such, less heat emanated, right?Right?Minho doesn’t know for sure. In fact, the more he thinks of the idea, the more ridiculous it sounds. But it’s alright, because Minho has come up with more ridiculous ideas than that before for advertising campaigns, but people still eat it all up. In comparison, this appears to be one of his more rational deductions.Yes, most definitely rational, Minho repeats the thought to himself, as he finds himself thinking in circular loops. It is nearly 4 in the morning, and Minho continues lying on his carpeted floor (bad choice of material if there’s one), listless and brain-dead. His limbs feel too heavy to move, and even the light Egyptian cotton of his Ermegildo Zelda’s shirt feels like it weighs a ton.It is warm, and it is stifling and Minho thinks his words are failing him at this point. Because he is pretty sure he has used the words ‘warm’ and ‘stifling’ more than once in the past few minutes, and while repetition may be a good strategy in short TV ads to hammer ideas into potential buyers’ heads, he does not think it is such a wise move in this situation.Probably just a physical manifestation of his heat-addled brain. Or not so physical, now that Minho thinks of it. Because, thoughts are hardly tangible, are they?Or are they not?Because being a media consultant means that Minho understands the power of words and images more so than the average man on the streets. It means he is keenly aware of the impact a well-placed word has, it means he is keenly aware of the complicated wondrous maze that makes up syntax, morphology, phonology and the likes.Words are capable of wondrous miracles; words are capable of disastrous phenomenon. Words may heal a soul; words may start a war. Words may free the world from racial bigotry; words may trap the world in sexists segregations. Words are everything, for words are transforming.Words are transforming.Which reminds Minho of the embarrassing screw-up which just happened the day before. Moving his hand with gargantuan effort, Minho slides his mobile out of his pocket, lightly pressing on a button in the process.White light from the screen casts a shadowy glow on Minho (has Minho mentioned he is lying on the ground in complete darkness, seeing as how light equals to energy, and hence heat?), and Minho squints his eyes at the sudden harshness. But he proceeds undeterred, and it is almost as if some strange force is compelling him to open up his Whatsapp chat, select the first chat on his list to call.It is now 4.23am in the morning, as his mobile kindly informs Minho in the corner of the screen. It is hardly a good hour to pay a friendly call to anyone, but Minho supposes this is an exception.The summer heat wave is simply too much, and it’s Jinki’s fault for being the first person to pop up in Minho’s mind in the last half an hour of lying prone on the carpet.There, all guilt assuaged.Minho waits with the patience of a man who has been waiting for his air-conditioner to miraculously kick back into operation. The calling tone sounds, and the calling tone dies off. Minho assumes it’s because Jinki has taken far too long to pick up the phone.But Minho is not one who gives up easily (even now, he holds hope for his air-conditioner), he presses the redial button with an air of calm acceptance and holds the mobile gently to his ears.Even this piece of metal feels hot. The heat is really invading everything, Minho notes.Before Minho gets any further in his line of conjecture, Minho is distracted by the crackling over his phone line.“Minho,” Jinki’s voice is surprisingly clear and devoid of sleepiness, “What’s wrong?”Minho replies mildly, “My air-conditioner broke down, Jinki.”Silence meets Minho and Minho feels his pulse beating in his wrists. Lub-dub, lub-dub, Minho listens to its comforting predictability.“Minho, is something wrong?” Jinki repeats his question after a 30-seconds pause.Minho thinks back to his previous answer and wonders in what way was he unclear. The gist seems to be there and Minho, for the life of him, can’t understand why is Jinki asking him again.Nonetheless, Minho is effused with infinite patience today, and he answers, “My air-conditioner is spoilt, Jinki.”Perhaps his choice of words were wrong. Broke down is a colloquial phrase, and Jinki has always been a stickler for formality. His derision of the Urban Dictionary is famous, and Minho supposes that can be why Jinki didn’t understand him the first time round.Spoilt, on the other hand, should get his meaning across perfectly though.“Minho,” Jinki says after yet another pause in the conversation, “It’s 4 in the morning.”“It’s 4.23am,” Minho corrects simply.“Yes,” Jinki is starting to sound a bit unnerved, “Minho, are you drunk?”“No, I have not had a drop of alcohol since I left the office, Jinki.”“Ok. Are you hurt then?”“No, my pulse is perfectly fine,” Minho says, “Lub-dub, lub-dub. Can you hear it, Jinki?”“Minho,” Jinki says finally, “Whatever you are snorting, I think you better stop now.”“I am not snorting anything,” Minho is a slight bit offended (he has not touched drugs since his youth), “I don’t snort.”“Well, but you obviously aren’t normal now, Minho.”“Because my air-conditioner isn’t working, Jinki,” Minho patiently explains again. He wonders if the heat has gotten to Jinki too, because he isn’t usually this slow. Most times, Minho feels as if he is forever playing catch-up when he works together Jinki. But today seems to be an exception.“You’ve lost me, Minho. Wherever you are on the map, I can no longer see you.”“It’s too hot, Jinki. My air-conditioner is malfunctioning.” Minho tries again with another synonym.Third time is the charm, someone said that, didn’t they?What Minho gets is a period of silence that triumphs the first. Minho can nearly hear the clinking of Jinki’s brain clinking into work, and Minho moves the phone further away from his ears.That piece of metal is positively radiating heat now. Minho knows that radiation is bad for the health.“Minho, wherever you are, don’t move,” Jinki breaks the silence, his tone taking a brief hint of alarm, “I am coming over.”“Ok,” Minho agrees easily, “Can you bring a fan along?”“A fan? You want a fan—yes, I can bring one over, I suppose,” Jinki says. Then, absolute silence can be heard over the phone and Minho can only guess Jinki has clasped a hand over the phone’s speaker, before the noise returns and Jinki asks, “Wait, where are you, Minho?”“Home.”“Home?” Jinki repeats, “Your home?”“My home.”“Alright, don’t move an inch, Minho,” Jinki instructs, “I am coming over.”The line beeps dead before Minho can reply, and Minho drops the phone to the ground.Don’t move an inch? Minho thinks he can do that. Moving equals to energy expended, and energy equals to heat.Minho lies on the ground, determined to carry out Jinki’s instruction to a T.-Minho doesn’t know exactly when he begins to drift off. But he knows the moment he begins dreaming of Antartica, polar bears and an ice castle like the one Elsa lives in that he is no longer awake. The humid heaviness in the air is replaced by cool crispness and Minho, even in his dreams, know that it isn’t real. But he is not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and Minho is willing to take a reprieve if he can get one.He is jostled an unknown amount of time later by a hand lightly shaking his shoulders. Groggily opening his eyes, Minho reluctantly foregoes frolicking in the ice with penguins and returns to the summer heat that threatens to overwhelm him. Minho opens his heavy eyelids, aware immediately of the uncomfortable stickiness of his skin. He says with drowsy affection, “Hi, Jinki.”“Hello, Minho,” Jinki’s furrowed brows meet him as he gently tries to help Minho sit up, “Are you alright?”“My air-conditioner broke down,” Minho puts a palm to the ground and props himself up with much effort, “But otherwise, I am fine.”Jinki doesn’t look very convinced of the fact and eyes Minho with a critical eye under the silver moonlight, “Are you sure?”Minho sighs a small frustrated sigh. Jinki must be more affected by the heat than he thought. Moving with deliberate slowness, Minho grabs Jinki’s hand and presses his fingers to his wrist, “There, can you feel the pulse?”“Not really, Minho. But I am not doubting whether are you alive—“ Jinki is cut off when Minho then guides his hand to his chest, pressing it firmly against the damp shirt. Lub-dub, lub-dub, Jinki can sense the steady beating of Minho’s heart, but all that is flooded out the next moment when Jinki feels a heady rush of blood rushing to his head.Jinki’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.“How about now?” Minho asks.Jinki nods dumbly.Satisfied, Minho lets go of Jinki’s hand before fixing Jinki with an expectant look. Struck off his center of balance, it does not take long for Jinki to be discomforted by the intense look he is receiving from Minho and he asks, “Minho?”“Where is my fan?” Minho demands. His cotton shirt is clinging to his skin, and even his polyester pants are not immune to the machinations of the summer heat wave. Minho unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt even as he asks, in anticipation of the cool air the fan is going to produce.Jinki averts his eyes immediately, because there is something wildly inappropriate about this situation that Jinki finds extremely distracting. The moonlight colours Minho is shades of greys and silver sparkles, as it captures the faint sheen of perspiration and make it dance with light. As Minho wipes a heavy hand across his forehead, Jinki hurriedly takes out the portable little fan he had gotten off some random 24-hour newspaper stand.Anything to distract him from this disheveled and confusing Minho.The portable fan painted with Australian flats, kangaroos and koala bears (it is meant to appeal to tourists after all) looks comedic in Jinki’s hands now that he begins to comprehend the massive heat wave it is tasked to ward off. But in his defense, Jinki doesn’t know that Minho was being serious and that his air-conditioner had broken down. Jinki holds it in his palms and helplessly poffers it to Minho.Minho stares at the little fan for a good minute before he finally picks it up. It is different from what he expected (KDK standing fans), but after examining it at all angles, Minho says, “The koala bears are cute.”“Right,” Jinki replies somewhat awkwardly, “The kangaroos are funny though.”“It’s hard to draw a kangaroo,” Minho says equivalently. His index finger hovering above a rounded indention, Minho continues, “Is this the on button?”Jinki cranes his neck to look at what Minho is pointing to, his efforts bringing him an inch closer to Minho. At this proximity, Jinki imagines he can sense the heat emanating off Minho and his senses are upped a notch. He replies, finding his world a degree more off-kilter because of Minho’s warmth, “Yes, looks like it.”Minho presses on the button at the response, and looks on in anticipation at the fan. However, the blades fail to move and Minho’s brows furrow together. He tries again, this time round, pressing on the button even harder. But still, the fan obstinately remains still.Jinki stares hard at the fan as Minho flips it in his hands, searching for the source of malfunction. He says slowly, “The fan may, or may not need a battery, I think.”Minho stops in his efforts and holds out one of his hands expectantly. Jinki winces at the gesture, because in his rush to get here, he is pretty certain he has failed to buy batteries. But what can he say to the look Minho has on his face? It will be cruel to cause his world come crashing down simply because of Jinki’s lack of attention to detail.“You don’t have batteries,” Minho deduces accurately when Jinki fails to put anything in his hands even after a prolonged period of time. Jinki’s apologetic look is enough of an answer to Minho and Minho accepts the disappointment with equivocal resignation.“I am sorry,” Jinki says.“It’s alright,” Minho forgives as he stands the little fan on the ground.“I can fan you though,” Jinki offers, “Do you have any paper?”“Don’t,” Minho says, “That will just make you warm too.”“But—“ Jinki is cut off the second time in the night when Minho presses a steady hand to his chest, firmly pressing him down. His hand sends bolts of electricity coursing through Jinki’s veins and Jinki shudders involuntarily.Minho notices the trembling and quirks an eyebrow at Jinki. “Lie down,” he explains, “Just lie down.” Jinki obliges willingly enough, even though he is wondering if there some strange dust that is floating in the air, ionizing the molecules and charging it with photons.Minho joins Jinki on the ground next, the soft carpet swallowing him up in his warmth. Strangely, with Jinki beside him, the heat seems to be kept at bay and everything appears to be more bearable. Minho’s eyes flicker to the air-conditioner; he half-suspected it to have sneakily begun functioning.The two soon settles into a strange brand of companionable silence. Minho counts the number of cracks that has formed on his ceiling, noting their particular prominence in the left corner of his living room. He tries to give an animal shape to each of the cracks, but realizes that is an impossible task even with the heat-induced deliriousness that is plaguing him. Meanwhile, Jinki breathes evenly beside him, and Minho knows that if he look over to his friend, Jinki will look back and smile.He decides that this summer heat is not too bad after all, and that there may indeed be a silver lining to all bad situations.-By the time Jinki next speaks, Minho is already beginning to doze off. Combatting drowsiness like clearing a path through heavy molasses, Minho tries to recall what Jinki has asked him. The summer heat tries to beat him down though, but Minho is determined. Because Jinki is nice enough to come all the way to his house to deliver a fan, albeit non-functioning, but it’s the thought that counts, and the least Minho can do is to talk to him.He replies when his plodding brain pieces together the scattered memory, “Yes, I am really fine, Jinki.”“Are you sure? No drugs?”“I don’t do coke, Jinki,” Minho can feels the last vestige of sleepiness dissipating.“Not coke, but other drugs,” Jinki clarifies, “Like Panadol or cough syrup.”“No, Jinki,” Minho denies after considering, “I just came back and fell onto the floor.”“You fell onto the floor?” alarm is creeping into Jinki’s voice.“No, as in,” Minho pauses to gather his words, “I came home and immediately laid down onto the floor. It’s too hot for anything.”“Hot,” Jinki assigns a certain emphasis to the word, “You keep repeating it.”“It is hot.”“Minho,” Jinki begins hesitatingly, “Are you on Viagra or anything? Aphrodisiac?”Another long pauses elapses and Jinki starts feeling nervous. Has he stumbled onto the bulls eye by accident? Although, frankly speaking, Jinki already had an inkling of what had happened, which is the reason why he rushed over to Minho’s place at 4 in the morning, even though there’s still work he hasn’t finished.“Jinki,” Minho finally says with deliberate slowness, “It’s just the summer heat wave.”“Really?”“Yes.”“Nothing more?”“My air-conditioner broke down, and the summer heat is killing me,” Minho says as if speaking to a child that is a bit slow in the head, “That’s all to it.”Jinki heaves a sigh of relief, “Good then. I was all worried for nothing.”“You thought I took viagra?”“I thought someone spiked your drinks.”“But I told you I was at home?”“Which was why I found it a bit weird, but I thought better to be safe than sorry,” Jinki laughs softly, “It’s starting to sound a bit ridiculous now that we are speaking about it.”Minho digests the idea of Jinki being all concerned and rushing over to check on him. He can imagine it in his mind already: Jinki picking up the phone and wondering if he has been drunk-dialled by Minho, but only realizing that can’t be the case given his clear words and lucid sentences. And then later on getting alarmed when Minho keeps complaining that it is too hot, before he decides that it’s best for him to check up on Minho to make sure he is safe.Minho finds it really sweet. “That’s really nice of you, Jinki,” Minho concludes, “Thank you.”Jinki holds up a hand and makes a shoo-ing gesture as if brushing away a stray comment.“Really,” Minho says, “You are the best friend I can ever have, Jinki. I love you.”“Why did you call me anyway?” Jinki distracts by starting up a new conversation.Minho falls silent as he tries to recall the reason for calling Jinki, conversation successfully changed. He ponders for a long while, before he finally happens onto the answer, “The penis is greater than the sword!” he exclaims.Jinki groans as his barely-scabbed over wound is freshly reopened and he flips onto his slide to give Minho a good poke in his ribs.“I was just about to forget that, Minho,” Jinki complains, “Why are you reminding me of it?”Minho rubs his side and turn to face Jinki too (preventing further assaults), “That was the reason why I called you.”“You called me because of the screw-up I made on the Samsung ad?”“Yea. I was thinking and thinking, and then I thought of the Samsung ad, which then made me think of you.”Onew groaned, “Great. Now I know I am forever linked to the Samsung ad.”“It can be worse,” Minho consoles.“How?”“Actually, no, not really.”Onew grumbles, huffing, “You are a lousy counselor, Minho.”Minho wrinkles his nose as the puff of air from Jinki’s huff directly met his face. It smells of stale coffee, Lotus biscuits and burning of midnight oil, and not to mention the heat that it contains. But it is not a particularly unpleasant smell, nor is it a particularly unpleasant sensation. There’s a strange quality in it that Minho finds that he likes, but for the life of him, he doesn’t know exactly what it is.“Your breath is hot,” Minho says.“Well, I am human after all,” Jinki defends, “Of course, my breath is hot.” And as he speaks, Minho can feel soft puffs of wind on his face again.“But it’s not uncomfortable,” Minho says, and he would have tilted his head to the side if he can, “Why?”Jinki sends him a vaguely perplexed look, “I have no idea? And do you need me to move away, Minho?” Jinki says as he begins squirming away, but Minho puts a hand onto Jinki’s wrist, stopping him.He sidles closer than he needs to to make up for the space Jinki has inched away and looks deep into Jinki’s eyes. And at the moment Minho does so, the moon choses to dance from behind the clouds it has temporarily hidden behind, bathing the pair in cool silver light. Minho breathes in a sudden gasp then, as Jinki’s skin almost appears to gleam, while the deep brown depths of his eyes appear as bottomless orbs, sucking in all light, sucking in Minho.And while Minho’s skin is covered in a faint sheen of sweat, Jinki remains unaffected by the heat. His shirt remains clean and pristine, only contradiction to its neatness being from where it has ridden up to reveal a flash of hips. Minho feels dirty in comparison as he can feel his shirt clinging to his skin and the beads of sweat that are now threatening to roll down his forehead. Yet, despite Minho’s obvious discomfort in the summer heat, Jinki is able to maintain his cool and calm, brunette hair unruffled, falling like a dark halo over his head.It is a creature of beauty Minho is facing now, and Minho marvels at how it is even possible for anyone to gain such great favour from God.Minho looks at Jinki with revelation clear in his eyes, and his hand moves gently down to intertwine with Jinki’s. Half expecting Jinki to shake off his grasp in the next second, Minho is relieved and gladdened when Jinki does not do so, but rather look at Minho with a wonderment that echoes Minho’s.Minho wonders what Jinki is seeing in the moonlight, but he figured it must be something wonderful going by the light in Jinki’s eyes.The air is thick with tension then, and the electricity is almost tangible. The two exchanged heated breaths, as their closeness forces them to share the same airspace. Minho smells coffee and biscuits, and he discovers that what he likes about them is that they are an indication of his proximity to Jinki.It is Americano that Jinki has drunk, Minho notes distractedly even as he watches Jinki approach with excitement tingling in his nerves.Jinki stops when he is only three fingers width away from Minho, and Minho can feel his stomach falling in disappointment. Why? Has Jinki decided otherwise?“I am going to kiss you now,” Jinki says, his eyes unwavering as he surrounds Minho with the strong aroma of coffee.Minho can’t help but to quirk a faint smile then, because it figures that even when they are about to kiss, Jinki is still looking out for his wellbeing.I want this, Minho decides. And he says, with conviction which he feels, “Do it.”And Jinki does. And Minho will like to say that the moment their lips met, Minho is certain that Jinki is a force of nature in himself. Because the kiss reminds Minho of thunderstorms and hurricanes; of lightning and howling wind. It leaves Minho disoriented, but Minho craves more of it as he deepens the kiss, knowing that if he goes deep enough, if he persists long enough, he will be able to find the eye of the storm, and unlock the enigma that is Lee Jinki.When they finally separate, Jinki already has his hands spread on Minho’s damp shirt, fumbling slightly with the buttons in his haste. Minho soon joins him in his endeavor (because he wants this, he wants wants this) and the 2 of them soon made quick work of his shirt. It is discarded easily enough, and Minho can only watch as Jinki looks at his bare torso reverently.Slowly, he moves his right hand so as to lay it spread on Minho’s stomach. The other hand joins it quickly enough, and together they begin exploring Minho’s body. Jinki maps the ups and downs of Minho’s chest as he breathes, notes the ribs that he can feel and marvels at the hard muscles Minho has trained. His hands leave behind searing trails as Minho’s senses are ratcheted up because this is Jinki who is touching him; this is Jinki who is worshipping his body. Minho doesn’t want to forget a single moment and he watches on, a faint smile on his lips before he finally pulls Jinki in for yet another kiss.And this time round, it is less of a raging summer storm as Jinki is deep, passionate and steady in his kiss. Like the mountain avalanche, Jinki is unstoppable and resolute as the pair consume each other, exploring each other mouths, purposeful and intense. Minho is reminded of the tides of the seas; of the rumbling of the earth, and he knows for sure that this is an inevitable course of action. They were meant to be, inexorably drawn together by fate, for it feels so right, so perfect that Minho regrets the past 33 years he has spent, missing out on this miracle.The two of them has been friends since high school, getting to know each other due to their common interest in music. They formed an amateur band then, with 3 other teenage boys drunk on youth, confident in their invincibility and their aspirations to be the next Beatles. But like what happens to many teenage dreams, it never comes to fruition and the 5 of them eventually parted way as they headed to separate universities. But Mimho has known even then, even when the band was having their last party together, that his time with Jinki has not ended, that he will be seeing more of him.And that’s exactly what happened. Because surprise of surprises, the two of them ended up entering into the public relations industry—what with Jinki’s gift for words and Minho’s silver tongue. They weren’t always in the same companies, nor were they always fighting for consumer preference behind the same lines, but Minho has always been comforted by the idea of a Jinki that he will crash and stumble into every few years. They will collide spectacularly, catching up on old times and speaking of past embarrassments, and Minho has always treated this phenomenon like a constant in his life.  Because in a world filled with uncertainties, Minho needs to know he has a warm home he can seek shelter in, he has a career he can excel in, and he has a friend whom he can confide in.And when Minho was introduced to his new colleague who turned out to be Jinki, Minho knows, his golden years has begun.Looking back now, Minho thinks he has been in love with Jinki most of his life.This sudden revelation leaves Minho reeling and his movements take on a sudden desperation. Because it is one thing to fall in love with your best friend, and another thing to know your best friend reciprocates the secret love you have been harbouring for the past 20 years. Minho’s hands find Jinki’s buttons and he tugs on them in frustration when they do not come undone as quickly as he wishes, because dammit! He has been waiting for 20 years, can’t they be more cooperative? Jinki is soon helping him and the buttons come undone within the next minute.Jinki shrugs off his shirt and it is Minho’s turn to be in awe then. He knows Jinki has been working out recently, but he has never seen the fruits of his labour till now. And while a slender and slim Jinki has his charms (as Minho remembers from the time changing for PE in highschool), a built Jinki is also incredibly attractive to Minho’s eyes. Minho lays a tentative hand on Jinki’s chest, growing bolder and bolder in his ministrations when Jinki raises no objections. Rather, he treats the moans as encouragements, and the rambled words as a primer, Minho dedicates himself to memorizing Jinki’s pleasure spots, because to give is to receive.Minho drags Jinki down onto him after his hands has roamed Jinki’s planes. Jinki lays flushed against him, and Minho can distinctly feel the racing of Jinki’s heart and the tremor of his body as he speaks. He knows Jinki can feel the same and Minho is incredibly aroused by the idea that their bodies are connected, that they can feel what each other feel. Jinki nuzzles against the crook of Minho’s neck, and he leaves a trail of fierce kisses down his collarbones, to Minho’s stomach. Jinki’s hands hover beneath hesitantly, and he looks up at Minho, asking for permission.Minho nods, his eyes taking on a needy glint before he initiates yet another kiss, leaving Jinki to fumble blindly with the button and zip on his pants with one hand. Minho swears Jinki’s mouth is the hottest thing possible, but he doesn’t mind this heat, revels in it even because for the life of him, Minho can’t think of a reason why he should stop; can’t think of a reason why he had not done this 20 years back.And when the two of them are finally naked, and Minho has his left leg hooked around Jinki’s hips, the magnitude of what they have done, what they are going to do hit the pair like a ton of bricks. Minho can feel his heart swelling because he knows this is the right thing to do, and when he looks at Jinki, he sees a look of such complete and utter revelation, that Minho’s world tilts on its left and he falls a bit harder for Jinki. Because Jinki’s eyes are blazing with affection, and the way he holds Minho in his arms, the way he gazes at Minho, it makes him feel as if he is the most beautiful creation in the universe.Minho feels this deep, sudden pang in his heart, and he is certain, this is love.-When Minho wakes up, Minho wakes up to the sound of Jinki pacing the room. He can hear it even with carpet’s muffling properties. Pad, pad, pad. Jinki walks a steady rhythm up and down the length of Minho’s living room.Minho cracks open one eye cautiously, expecting to be assaulted by the morning light flooding the room. To his surprise, the room remains dimly lit and Minho opens his other eye, pushing himself up by his hands. He notes that he curtains have been drawn, and guesses that Jinki is probably the one who has done so, so as to let him sleep a nit more.With a fond smile on his face, Minho greets, “Morning, Jinki.”Jinki has already stopped pacing the moment Minho sat up. His slacks hanging loosely on his hips, Jinki joins Minho on the floor and he says, “Good morning, Minho. Did I wake you up?”Minho stretches his limbs, wriggling his toes experimentally, “Not really. It’s time for me to wake up anyway.”“I’ve called in to say we can’t report to work,” Jinki says, even as he looks vaguely troubled.“The two of us, unable to report for work at the same time?” Minho quirks an eyebrow, “And with you calling on my behalf? What will people say?”Jinki looks stricken as he considers the implications of Minho’s words and he apologises, “I am sorry, Minho. I didn’t think of that.”Minho is quick to reassure when he realizes Jinki is not getting his joke, “Don’t worry, I was just teasing you.” He shrugs, “Who care about what others think anyway.”Jinki continues looking faintly distressed even as he nods to Minho’s words, and Minho knows it is because of what has happened yesterday. The enormity of the situation seems to be so much greater in the early morning light, and Minho is struck by a deep and sudden fear.What if Jinki is regretting?Minho feels his heart constricting even at only the speculative question and he darts a quick eye to Jinki. He was so certain yesterday night that what the two of them have is something more than a one-night stand, something more than a careless fling on a hot summer night. But the look on Jinki’s face this morning is giving him second thoughts, because Jinki’s brows are slightly furrowed together and his lips are pressed into a thin line.That’s Jinki’s classic upset expression, Minho would know.The silence between the pair grows and Minho can feel the tension gathering in density as it progresses. Unable to bear with the suffocative atmosphere anymore, Minho finally reaches out to put a tentative hand on Jinki’s leg, heart breaking a little when Jinki flinches at his action.“Jinki, what happened yesterday night…” Minho trails off, hoping that Jinki will continue on the sentence with what he wishes to hear.“We weren’t drunk,” Jinki says, “So it can’t be a moment of heated inebriated passion.”“No,” Minho’s disappointment colours his voice, “It can’t be.”Jinki’s head turn to look at Minho at the change in his tone. Carefully taking in Minho’s features, Jinki begins softly again, “But it was really hot yesterday, so we can blame it on the summer heat.”Minho’s heart crack and he forces the next few words out of himself, haltingly, “Is that... is that what you want?”Jinki quietens and he look away from Minho, down onto the carpet, “If it is what you want.”Minho doesn’t know where he finds the courage to ask the next question, because he knows that if he hears a rejection to his following words, Minho will have a chasm to heal. But Minho perseveres, because this can’t be left hanging, is too important to be left hanging. Minho needs a confirmation from Jinki, and so he says, “What if I want something else?”Jinkis head snaps up so quickly that Minho is afraid it will be broken. With renewed light in his eyes, Jinki fixes Minho with a look of unreadable quality before hope enters into the brown orbs. Minho can see Jinki swallowing dryly as he prepares himself and asks, “Can I say I want something more than a one-night stand?”The implications of this question is huge, and Minho is suddenly aware that Jinki is proposing that they actually start a relationship, a romantic relationship. And Minho can imagine the bright clarions and brilliant trumpets going on in his head, as he celebrates this momentous moment. Because holy shit, Minho is so goddamn happy that his feelings are reciprocated. Now that he has tasted Jinki, Minho can no longer imagine a life without him. It will be a calamity; a calamity of dullness.Jinki takes Minho’s delayed response as rejection and he turns his head away, laughing emptily, “Yea, guess I must be foolish to suggest that. I mean, you obviously weren’t exactly thinking straight yesterday, and I took advantage of that… I am so sorry, Minho, but I hope we can still be friends—““Jinki,” Minho interrupts firmly when it is apparent that Jinki intends to continue rambling, “Jinki, stop.”Jinki promptly clams up sorrowfully and he looks everywhere but at Minho.Minho takes hold of Jinki’s chin gently and forces him to look at him. When he sees the despair in Jinki’s eyes, Minho realizes that what Jinki feels is an exact mirror of how he feels. With that, comes the realization that Minho is about to give Jinki one of the happiest moments in his life, and Minho breathes in deeply, preparing himself for the next moment.He has always had a gift for word, but it is at this moment, Minho finds words failing him as he resorts to 3 most cliché words in the entire human history, “I love you.”Jinki’s eyes light up to an almost unbelievable extent, and Minho makes to burn this image in his heart. Because things are finally falling into place, and Minho cannot imagine another person who knows him as well as Jinki does; who loves him as much as Jinki does.They are meant to be together, Minho is certain.I have finally crossed the line of no return.This fic is a product of 4 hours of non-stop typing, broken only by a toilet break. It is the first M-rated fic I have ever written, and I am still slightly reeling from the fact, because fanfiction writing has only been a progression for me, from innocent, blessedly sexually-free themes to innuendoes and all, before I finally type out explicit sex scenes. And while I have not exactly reached /that/ point yet, this fic represents a gradual transition, before culminating into the eventual downwards spiral.

Bottomless pit, bottomless pit, looks like I am heading your way.