Kibum doesn’t expect to open the door at midnight to the man he has loved for over a decade—definitely not when he hasn’t talked to him for months.
Out of the things you don’t expect in life, some of them happen anyway. Minho stands a mere foot away, a Cheshire grin plastered across his face as he shivers slightly.
“You missed me?”
Kibum scoffs, partially because, of course, he did, and partially because he doesn’t know what to say.
Minho had always just been there—so much so that Kibum had felt like he’d lost a part of himself when he heard the news. Now that Minho’s back, barely inches from him, the older can hardly breathe.
“Shut up, you idiot.” It’s all he can get out amidst the shock.
Minho laughs before wrapping Kibum in his arms, and the inch that divides them seems larger than usual.
Kibum is the first to step back. “Why’d you leave?”
Minho’s expression is a mystery. He slumps, almost as if he’s collapsing mid-stance. It feels so odd to see him like this. He isn’t one to drop his guard.
“I just needed some time.”
Kibum looks up and realizes that the younger’s slouching has brought them to eye level.
Kibum sighs, even though he knows he couldn’t blame Minho if he wanted to. He loves him too goddamn much. “Time away from me?”
Minho tilts his head to the side. “Time away.”
Kibum blinks away the tears threatening to flood him. “That doesn’t answer my question.” Minho is about to confirm all of his worst fears, isn’t he?
Minho swallows hard, Adam’s apple visibly shifting. “Time away. From everything. You just happen to fall in that ‘everything.’”
Kibum crosses his arms. He cannot call Minho a liar. His words are technically true. He phrases his own just as carefully. “Is Jinki not in that ‘everything’?”
Minho startles. It’s clear he didn’t expect Kibum to know this much.
“Kibum…”
Kibum cannot find the anger he should be feeling. “It’d all be fine if you had been honest.”
Something unfamiliar flashes across Minho’s expression. “If I could tell you, I would.” He doesn’t snap, but it feels like it regardless.
Kibum’s voice is cold. “Of course.”
“Kibum.”
He doesn’t look up.
“Don’t be like that.”
“Be like what?” He snarls the words cruelly, and he finds that he doesn’t mind. He can afford to be a little cruel after what Minho put him through.
Minho groans. “I know I should have told you. It’s just… different with you. You wouldn’t understand.”
Kibum rolls his eyes. “You’re right,” he huffs. “I don’t understand how I’m so different. How would you feel if your best friend disappeared for months and came back with an excuse?”
“I know I’m not making any sense,” Minho breathes. “But can I please come in? I’m freezing.”
In Kibum’s haste to question him, he had forgotten about the weather. On any other day, he would’ve apologized, maybe even dragged the younger inside. But he is far too angry for that right now. He lets out a stilted “Fine,” and moves aside from the doorway.
When Minho crosses the threshold, the atmosphere shifts. Of course, there is no longer a cold draft blowing inside the house. But also, Kibum hits the switchboard on his way to lock the door, and as they are shrouded in light, he remembers what he’s wearing.
Probably a bad time for it.
He internally curses as he hears Minho’s gasp. “You kept it?”
Kibum avoids his gaze. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s cold.”
Minho chuckles. “Alright. I won’t.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the sweatshirt. Kibum recalls it being almost tight on the younger, but now, he is swimming in fabric.
“Put your bags down. I’ll try to find something that fits you.” The latter sentence is said purely to humor Minho. Kibum doubts he’ll find anything. Something about Minho’s smirk shows that he is obviously thinking the same thing.
When Kibum returns from his closet, he is met with an expanse of skin. He chokes on air, coughing into his fist. “What the fuck are you doing?”
It isn’t really fair. Minho is still wearing his boxers.
He pouts. “Changing, of course.”
Kibum politely averts his eyes as he hands over his baggiest T-shirt and loosest sweatpants. Somehow, the shirt stretches taut over Minho’s pecs and shoulders. The pants, on the other hand, don’t even make it over the younger’s muscled thighs. Kibum resists the urge to ogle.
“I don’t think I have any underwear that’ll fit you.”
He doesn’t think—he knows. God knows how many times he’s seen Minho’s dick when they used to live in the dorms. He blushes when Minho smirks, clearly thinking the same thing. Kibum does his best to ignore him.
“I set up the guest room for you.”
“What?” Minho balks.
Kibum raises an eyebrow. “Where did you think you would sleep?”
Minho throws him a sidelong glance. “Kibum.”
“Minho.”
He looks ridiculous in the middle of the hallway, his clothing still in disarray. “What if I just want to be with my best friend for a night?”
“So now I’m your best friend.” Kibum knows he’s being difficult.
Minho rubs his temples awkwardly. “You’re still mad?”
“Wouldn’t you be, in my position?”
Minho pretends to ponder it for a moment. “No.”
Kibum’s nose flares. “Fine. Come on.” He could never get himself to hate Minho, no matter how angry he is.
Minho’s face splits into a grin. He reaches down, and Kibum can barely attempt to push him away before he’s being thrown over his shoulder. He feels sixteen again. That swoop in his heart is the same one he felt when Minho hugged him before they went on stage for the first time.
They lie under the covers in a position not unlike that one. Kibum feels small, cocooned in Minho’s arms. He loves this feeling of no responsibility.
He feels Minho’s breath fan across the back of his neck. He twists around, only to be met with a stare.
“Kibum-ah.”
Kibum sucks in a breath. “Minho.”
“Please don’t hate me.”
Before Kibum can say anything, Minho swoops down and connects his lips to Kibum’s in a motion just like the one spinning in the older’s heart. His heart must’ve stopped, with the way Kibum doesn’t feel alive anymore. Is this a dream? It feels endlessly cruel—karma playing with his heartstrings.
Minho presses into Kibum, and Kibum breaks like a dam, pushing Minho off of him.
“Is this funny to you?” Kibum feels the tears he forced down earlier starting to resurface.
Minho scoffs, sitting up. “What?”
Kibum shakes his head sadly. “I should’ve known. Why else would you see me if not to humiliate me?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Kibum rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Why did you kiss me, then? You think it’s okay to play with someone’s feelings?”
Minho grits his teeth. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell the truth about why I left.”
Kibum groans. “That again? Just answer the question. Why’d you kiss me?”
Minho smiles sadly. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Kibum shrugs. “You’re bored of being straight and thought you would kiss the one gay man you know to try things out.”
“I know more than one gay man!” Minho protests.
Kibum gives him a look. “What’s your point?”
“What would you do if you realized you’re in love with your best friend?”
Kibum feigns ignorance. “I don’t know. What would you do?”
Minho blinks. “Kiss them to see if they feel the same.”
Kibum’s jaw drops.
“Minho-yah.”
“Kibum.”
“You’re straight.”
Minho crosses his arms. “I thought so too.”
“Minho,” Kibum reaches to grasp the younger’s hand. “This isn’t a joke?”
“Do you want it to be?”
Kibum hums thoughtfully. “No. I don’t think I do.”
Minho melts into him, kisses so searing that the two of them seem to meld together. Kibum pants as Minho licks into his mouth.
“How long have you wanted this?” Kibum gasps, breathless.
“Forever.”
Kibum groans, tightening his grip on Minho’s shoulders. “You know what I mean.”
Minho exhales against his lips, eyes dark and earnest. “I’m honest,” he breathes. “I just didn’t know until last November.”
Kibum’s heart pounds faster as the words sink in. “Never scare me like that again."
Minho pecks him on the mouth, and Kibum barely refrains from calling him gross and swerving away despite the glistening sheen of sweat on his forehead. He has years to fuss over things like that. Right now, he just wants to feel.