Where Home Is

[tunasheep]

Where Home Is
(At That Moment sequel)

"At one point in a not-so perfect relationship, things crumble but they find their way back together in one way or another."

PG-13 for language ; AU ; Romance ; Slice of Life ; more or less 7000 words



A/N: So uhm, here's the sequel. Like dsklgjgdskjgds. Why is this 7k words. I told myself I would make it only up to 5k or less, but noooooo. Brain is fucking with me. But uhm, yeah. I hope you guys enjoy! This is kinda sucky, blargh. Note that I didn't want too much drama in this, LOL.

It was fine really, their relationship. It was close to perfect even, at one point. Both Minho and Taemin were happy, were content. Were. And there was something wrong with that word, they both think. Four years of being together, in each others arms, in their own apartment space that was home, was -they were happy. They were comfortable around each other and it was nice, it felt good and they felt like they understood what love was, but maybe they actually didn't. Four years was too long -things got a little boring, feelings started to stream down, away from their hearts (like the occasional tears at night when they fought a little too much.) Like a drawn picture left on a desk to be forgotten -the colors start to fade until it's only just a blur on a rotting canvas. The 'they' was beginning to become just 'him' and 'him'. They both felt that, and much to their comfort, it didn't hurt as much as they thought it would -they hardly felt anything ;they were numb.

Until of course, when a month after autumn had passed, when winter was rolling by and creeping on their windows with its cold breeze, Minho brings it up. Because Minho was the older one. Because Minho can't stand it anymore. Because Minho knows Taemin would never say anything -he was a coward, a damn coward. And the man didn't like that, not at all. He was sick of it, because he thinks of himself as a brave man. The businessman that had just turned twenty-eight a week ago says what's on his mind -and he thinks that why he's brave, not a coward like Taemin.

Not Taemin.

But he stutters a little, so maybe not as much as he had hoped.

"D-... Do you think... we're drifting apart, Taemin-ah?" His voice was soft, it was almost a whisper. He looked down at his food, and not at Taemin's eyes. Maybe he was a coward after all. Maybe in all honesty, he was scared. Scared of what he'll see in Taemin's eyes -not what they once were. That spark, those eyes full of love and emotion. Those eyes that spoke to him even with no words. Those eyes he had loved. Had.

It takes Taemin a few minutes to sum up an answer.

"So you've felt it too," he says. He's playing around with the kimchi left on his plate. His rice bowl was empty, and with the current atmosphere suffocating him, he didn't feel like eating anymore. His eyes were also cast down, his hair had grown in the last four years, it was a little longer than before, but it didn't really reach anywhere near his shoulders. Just past the ears -the roots of his hair were black and chestnut brown going down.

Minho nods, and the conversation ends there.

They both know why, they just didn't feel like talking about it at that moment.

They were afraid they wouldn't be able to breathe anymore, because it's taking their breath away. That feeling. That really tight feeling in their chest and the twisting of their guts. Their fingertips felt like it had been stung, and it was beginning to come over their senses. The pain. It was seeping inside of them, taking every breathe, every emotion and everything that they ever had up to that moment. They both knew too well, that it had been there for quite awhile. To be honest, with everything they've done for the past two years of fighting and drifting away -they just fed this monstrous feeling of pain, and now it had bloomed. It had bloomed into poisonous vines, wrapping them up with its thorned skin.

The dreaded pain they never imagined would come -at least, for the first two years of their relationship is now killing them bit by bit. They were experiencing a slow and painful death.

Minho and Taemin slept on seperate beds that night -backs turning away from each other. Winter is freezing and harsh -but that's not the only reason why they're cold.

Two weeks.

Fourteen days.

Three hundred and thirty-six hours.

Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes.

One million, two hundred thousand ninety and six hundred seconds.

Taemin tells Minho he needs to go home for the holidays. His parents had called him up and said he should spend some time with them (he didn't say his parents told him to bring Minho with him.) Minho was cooking them breakfast when Taemin told him that, on a Sunday morning. The egg got burnt and the man hurt his finger because he accidentally touched the pan when he turned to look at the brunette. With the look on Taemin's face -that look that said a thousand words to Minho, he just knew it. He almost, almost anticipated it for the past two weeks.

That was it.

That was just it.

Taemin had already packed his things within two bags -he's ready to go. He's clutching unto them as Minho just stares at him with eyes begging.

Begging for him to stay.

But he replies, wordlessly, why did he need to stay? They've got nothing. There was nothing anymore. They've fallen out of love -and it hurts, it hurts because they want to hold on. It's scraping their hands and leaving them bruises because they just won't let go. The house that was once a home is but a room that smelled like burnt eggs, dead plants and loneliness. Their room was clean, far too clean. The sofa they bought a little bit of three years ago when they first moved in together was clean. The occasional blanket and pair of pillows weren't there anymore. The room they slept had no clothes on the floor, the sheets were clean and dry and it was just.

Just too perfect.

The house that was a home, now only has two people, rewinding their clocks back to the time that they were but mere strangers, both who try to live their lives how they want it.

Two lonely strangers that are supposed to not care for each other at all.

How can you care for a person you don't even know? Things have been falling into pieces right before their eyes. Minho hardly even knows Taemin anymore, and so does Taemin. Sometimes, they both even think, they hardly know themselves. Because he is a part of what he is, but now that they're drifting apart, he is beginning to be just a part of what he was.

Taemin walks out the door, because he can't breathe again. He needed air, he needed to go.

He needed to leave without saying anything anymore.

Minho doesn't cry. No -he just takes it all in with a single deep breath, and a long sigh. The man starts to count then, the days of which they will be apart. He'll be counting the days of which he will be searching for where home is.

The egg doesn't taste as salty as the rain on his face, thankfully. It was just bitter, so bitter.

Day one.

He wakes up alone, on a cold bed, with cold sheets and cold feet. He blinks twice and pinches himself to make sure if yesterday's dreadful events really did happen. It did, and reality is turning yet again, a nightmare Minho wants to get out of as fast as he can. Nightmares can sometimes kill a person, he remembers someone tell him.

He gets up, fixes his bed and warms himself up with a cup of coffee and some instant noodles. He didn't need to cook anyway -it was just him. He can do whatever he wants again -it was just him anyway. He can be whatever he wanted to be -it was just him.

But Taemin was a part of his existance to there's something wrong there. How can he be someone, if he isn't even a whole? Then becoming someone would just make him look stupid. And Minho doesn't want to look stupid -not anymore, he thinks. Because he remembers that one person he looked and acted like an idiot for.

Minho groans at the mere thought of the teen -no, adult actually. Taemin had grown, just as much he drifted apart from the man.

His mornings will be quieter and colder than usual from now on. He slumps his head on the table and stays still.

Taemin had woken up, in his old bed back in his hometown. It was miles away from the city -far enough for him to breath he muses. But something kind of stings (it was probably the thorns of yesterday.) He sits up and is greeted with the sweetest smile a mother could give. He smiles back, then she's asking about Minho. He almost can't understand the question because he's still a bit half-asleep, (or maybe because he just didn't want to listen) but considering it was about Minho, she was probably wondering why he wasn't there with him.

He sighs. And he looks down without a word.

Taemin's mother somehow just knows -like any good mother would. She sighs as well and hugs her son. Taemin almost, almost cries because it's been awhile since he was home and the hug his mother gave was so warm and so wonderful. Taemin had been cold for the past month, and she was like the sun melting away the ice that had formed on him. She smelled like daisies and sunshine and everything he had ever loved. He clutches unto her like he always did as a child and he smiles, a little better than a few minutes ago. He convices himself that he can forget Minho.

He repeats it over and over in his head like a chant -like a prayer.

And he realizes, the more he does, the more his head is filled with the moments, those moments he had with Minho.

His mother leaves him be. Taemin takes awhile to finally get up and do his chores around the house.

Minho was typing away on his laptop in a slightly bigger office. He was the assistant head of a department in their company now. The load of work was a little lighter than before and he can actually relax a bit from time to time and laze around in his small office. Jonghyun is still working with him too, but sometimes he'd talk about being a singer and being on stage, but then adding he was probably already too old for it. But Minho reassures him from time to time, no one would really notice. Jonghyun's smile kind of made him forget about it really, and Minho can just see who Jonghyun really was, even without those petty numbers. An adult that was a kid at heart, a romantic sap (based from what Key whines about all the time), a great singer and most importantly, Minho's bestfriend -maybe even a brother too.

Like those annoying older brothers that acts like the younger one eighty percent of the time.

And that sounded nice, someone distracting him from thinking too much. He was thinking about what to eat, what he's going to do, what's the day today, why the sun is so bright and why is the grass green and why Taemin wasn't with him.

He stops breathing for a second, as he heart skips a beat or two. His head throbs hard twice, then he's back to his senses.

Minho slumps into his office chair. He was thinking that maybe he should've been a little more selfish. Maybe, he should've held Taemin's hand a little tighter and not let him slip away. Because he realized, even though the past years of being together was but a road of fading colors and feelings, mixed thoughts and colliding personalities, Minho realized one thing.

He was an idiot.

He was an idiot to let Taemin just go and leave his door without even a proper goodbye or anything.

Minho just let him look at him for a few good minutes then just walk right out of his life.

Taemin was doing his chores like he always did. Sweeping the floor at noon, wiping the dinner table by four and check on his dad from time to time (because he sometimes smokes inside the house and his mom doesn't like that.) And when he's walking towards the door about to head out (his mom asked him to buy some things in the tiny grocery down the street) -he smelled something.

Coffee and pinecones.

Because his dad liked coffee.

And there were pinecones outside (which will soon be cut for Christmas. Taemin makes sure to play sick or dead even that day, because he hates cutting pinecones.)

And then Taemin almost, almost cries again, for the second time that day. He can't move his feet for awhile, because he's stuck in his thoughts that maybe he shouldn't have left without a word. That maybe, he should've at least said goodbye or spoke more or maybe even try to fix whatever that was broken so that he wouldn't feel so lonely and cold at night. Also, so that he didn't have glossy eyes that were so annoying because he can hardly see anything with them.

Thinking about it, Taemin realizes. He realizes that even though the past years were full of occasional shouting, fighting, cold shoulders and words with venom both of them didn't mean -Taemin realizes it finally.

He was an idiot.

He acted too rash -too fast to even say goodbye.

Just a word to say it was over, that it was done. A word of closure, of ending, that their fairytale has finally come to a halt.

But somehow, Taemin knew, he had said goodbye, without words, even before that day. Maybe he said it three months before, two months, or maybe even a whole year before. He was just a coward, a stupid coward that held on to their relationship because he thought Minho loved him so much it'll just hurt him to let go. He was too scared to get hurt -to let him go.

Taemin thinks he probably loved Minho just as much that's why it was even harder.

It was weird how it was raining on a winter's day. Where was the soft snow to hug him tight?

Day Eighteen

Weeks passed already, and Winter's even harsher. The days were really cold, so it's hard to go out to eat and drink too, with Jonghyun and the guys. Minho remembers one time when they were drinking, he was splurring out words with an intoxicated mind. He filled his heart with wine, not to forget his problem, but more of, forget the question, so he wouldn't have to think of an answer. (He remembers the way Jonghyun looked at him like the concerned best friend he was. He somehow knew what he was probably talking about.)

Minho's fridge is empty so he decides to shop a little in that convience store with memories of that boy he held tightly and yelled at for being an ass. The way he looked kinda scared and just stumbled his apology out of that mouth of his. Minho smiles for a moment as he remembers how stupid and childish he must've looked like -or both of them, that night. But he frowns too after awhile.

He sees a small carton of banana milk on the aisle of ramen, for some god forsaken reason. (Maybe God is starting to hate him too.)

Everyone that knows Taemin, knows he loves banana milk like it was the fountain of youth. He drank it often -everyday, probably. Maybe every other hour if he had all the money in the world. Minho takes it in his hands and puts it in the basket. It did taste nice -not really something he usually drinks. But it was definitely sweet and good. Like someone's kisses in the morning light, sweet sugary smiles on their afternoon dates and soft touches on his skin when the night was too much to handle.

And just when he was about to step out, this time, he sees a bottle of honey on same aisle. He was about to shout 'What the fuck is wrong with you people', because who puts a honey bottle on the ramen aisle? Or who puts honey in ramen anyway? (But he remembers that one time he ate that, ramen and honey, with Taemin. Apparently it was supposed to be a April Fool's joke but Minho ate it anyway.)

The man leaves, almost crying again, but he doesn't. Minho doesn't cry. He's not a weak person -even though he was old. He was strong -stronger than most people anyway. So he doesn't and he takes it all in again.

Day Twenty-seven

They were all eating on the table as silence embraced the room. Taemin's older brother had went away, to some place he hasn't heard of. ('So that's why they were lonely,' Taemin thinks.) The fish was good, but meat tasted even better, Taemin was supposed to leave the vegetables, but with the looks his mom keeps on giving him, he eats them. The brunette was left in his own little world for awhile, when his dad speaks up. And his dad rarely even spoke to him -maybe even ever. But his dad's low voice booms in the dining room. Even his mother is a little surprised.

"Why didn't you bring him over?" His father asks.

Taemin puts down his bowl and tries to sum up for an answer. He thanks his mom for answering for him.

"They're kind of..." His mother's vocie trails off, because her husband apparently looked at her in a way that he wants to hear his son's own voice. She sighs and pats Taemin's shoulder.

"Business trip," he lies through his teeth. His father knows better though. Taemin wonders why he had to ask if he already knew, (apparently.) The brunette just lets it be -arguing would be futile. His father starts to eat again, but in between gulps and spoonfuls, Taemin summed up his little speech to be like this:

"You know me and your mom had fallen out of love once. But we got right back in again. The time that you've fallen out, really makes you realize how lonely you were and if you really needed, cared and loved that person. If it hurt, you just know."

He stares at his father for awhile, before going back to emptying his bowl.

They finished eating after awhile, and Taemin hugs his dad tightly. He smells like tabacco and wine, but it's alright. Taemin loves his father very dearly, and he thanks him quietly for that little advice awhile ago. His dad didn't even like Minho, or anything. He completely disagreed on the fact his son was gay, and dating a man six years older than him. Minho had actually answered that he had a stable job -he could take care of Taemin, he could love Taemin.

He also answered he loved Taemin as much as his own very existance could let him.

Or so at least, that's what he thought.

His father was still not happy with it, and almost kicked Taemin out of the house. But after awhile, with soothing words from his wife, Mister Lee had calmed down and half-heartedly approved Minho. He was still not giving up on his wish of lots of grandchildren from both of his sons

Taemin's father pats him on the back, and the night is back to normal. But Taemin is now thinking, thinking about so many things. Of what he wants -no, what he needs to do. Because wanting and needing are two very different things -although mistaken to be the same, oftenly.

Day Thirty-nine

Minho was typing away in his little office when Jonghyun comes in. There's something off about Jonghyun, but he thinks maybe he just had it rough too, with his significant other, or something.

The man in front of him, apparently had enough of the shit Minho was pulling.

"Minho, what the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking overtimed again last night and almost collapsed going home! Jinki told me," he yelled angrily, slamming his hand on the wooden desk.

The man ignores this. It's another one of those days where Jonghyun thinks he's Minho's dad.

"It's about Taemin, isn't it? Then why don't you stop moping around and get him? Jesus, Minho. I know you want him back. Then why don't you be a little selfish even just this once ;to do what you want? To get what you want? What's stopping you, Minho?"

Minho knows this, and he just smiles at Jonghyun, mockingly. He knows it's gonna piss off Jonghyun -but he was getting pissed off too. Days like this weren't the first time. He's had enough himself. He doesn't answer the question, but he backfires with a simple reply.

"Do what you preach."

Jonghyun punches Minho hard, straight across the face. Minho falls to the floor with a thud. The people outside wonder where the noise came from.

"You and I both know why I'm not doing that, Minho," Jonghyun yells, face turning red in anger and brows furrowed.

"And you and I both know why I'm not either! I don't need him, so why get him?" He tackles Jonghyun to the ground -he's not gonna let this slip away again. He's done taking shit from Jonghyun ;the punches and the words that were meant for him to wake up from all of this.

"That's not even fucking true! You're just being a coward, Minho!" Jonghyun screams, eager to get away from Minho's grip. The people outside start to whisper about the screams coming from the small office.

"We both are!" Minho yells back, hitting Jonghyun on the face, to let go of all the tension that built up already from the past week. Jonghyun smiles for a second -this is exactly what he wanted. For Minho to just let it go -to get angry, to cry, to be sad and to miss Taemin. Because maybe, maybe, through that, maybe Minho will have the urge to finally wake up, get up and take Taemin back home.

Home.

Jonghyun gets angry again -he throws a punch on the man's face again, this time it Minho around his chin, when his grip loosened.

"Why are you such a fucking idiot? You're getting even stupider than me!"

"Why do you care so much about what I need to do? This is my life, Jonghyun," Minho asks him, fifty percent confused, and the other half being furious at his so-called best friend. His left eye was beginning to get redder and redder, and his lip was bleeding a bit. He still doesn't understand what caused Jonghyun to just burst.

His bestfriend stands up, fumbling a bit -face a little angrier than before.

"Because you were happy!"

Jonghyun screams, he goes and tries to land another punch on Minho, but he misses. Minho grabs him again and pushes him down on the carpeted floor. The older of the two struggle beneath the businessman -but the hold on him was a lot harder than before.

Jonghyun needs to do everything he can now, to wake his best friend up. Jonghyun's done with what Minho has been doing to himself. Going home late, drinking a bit too much, eating too little and being his same old self.

Stupid, lonely, dull.

Emotionless.

Lost.

He pushes Minho hard, off of him, and he tries standing up. Minho spits blood first, then kicks Jonghyun on the stomach before he could even get on his feet. The man groans in pain, but he fumbles up right after with his nose bleeding. Minho's office chair had fallen down awhile ago, when Jonghyun punched him too hard that he fell. His paper work was scattered, and there was a red mark on the side of the table -not really sure whose blood it belonged to.

"I can be happy without him," he says, huffing. His eye is starting to swollen up now, and there was a small bruise on his chin too. A few office workers barge in the room -they're kind of lost of what's happening at that moment. The two friends don't even spare a look. They're gazing at each other with deep, angered, confused (but somehow, concerned) eyes.

"Happiness isn't found in loneliness," Jonghyun mumbles, adrenaline dying down with pain starting to wave in.

"Who said I was lonely?"

Jonghyun kicks Minho's stomach before he was manhandled by a brave soul.

Day Fourty-four

Minho and Jonghyun didn't talk for the next few days, until of course they just had too. Key practically screamed right into Jonghyun's ear when he called up and heard everything (in some way he doesn't understand how) to apologize to Minho. When Onew saw Minho bruised and a rather large black eye, he was just so worried and kept on bugging Minho to talk with Jonghyun -since things aren't gonna get better if he was just going to give him the cold shoulder. But both of them knew it wasn't their first -they used to fight a lot when things were like this. Even though Jonghyun looked nice, and that Minho was probably too busy (or too boring even) to start a fight, they punched, kicked and tackled each other -because sometimes leaving hints just won't do the trick.

Once, when Jonghyun's girlfriend broke up with him, he had sulked for days and days. He started not to eat much, (like Minho now) and even missing days of work without a leave of notice. Jonghyun almost, almost got fired if it weren't for Minho. The younger of the two had went straight to Jonghyun's flat after work and punched whatever was left of the man -then there started their brawl.

(Minho remembers the landlady almost calling the police, because with even three men on top of them, they just wouldn't stop. They were spitting venom at each other, but under that, they knew, this was the brotherhood they stepped into, ( which they enjoyed secretly). Nothing felt better than throwing a few punches to just let out everything.)

Day Fourty-nine

On a Tuesday, Jonghyun greets Minho 'Good Morning' like nothing happened -leaving everyone in the office with puzzled faces. They even got more confused with Minho smiling back at the shorter man. They talk in Minho's office for a few hours. Minho knows what Jonghyun was trying to tell him, but he pushes those little things to the back of his head after awhile of considering them. It hurt Minho, really. It hurt him a lot that his feet won't move to the direction of the place where he needs to be. His doubts were eating him up -if Taemin still wanted him ;if Taemin was thinking of him ;if there was still home--

--if Taemin even really existed in his life.

Because for Minho, who considers himself as a simple man, with a simple life, Taemin was like a fairytale. Something inside of him is telling him it isn't true, but in his heart -the little heart that is now falling to pieces, is telling him it's true and he should believe. He should never stop believing it, or it will die and wither away.

Maybe half-way through their relationship, Minho stopped believing.

Maybe that's why Taemin started to drift away. And so did he.

He stopped believing in them.

Day Fifty.

Taemin is talking with his mother, as they share two cups of cocoa. Winter's still rolling by between their feet, but it'll be dying soon, in a month or so. The brunette is swinging his legs on the small sofa, then he turns to look at his mother.

"What do you think about going back, Ma?" He asks, with a familiar nickname he hasn't been saying for awhile now.

"It's always good to go back. You can either pick up the pieces, tie loose ends or maybe even start over," She says with a smile. She definitely knows what Taemin is trying to say. And she probably even knows what he wants to hear -he just wanted someone to tell him with different words and a different voice.

"But what if you do want to go back, but there's nothing left to go back to?" Taemin then asks.

His mother looks at him with gentle eyes. She pats her son's hair and smoothens it down gently.

"There will always be something, even though you think it's nothing. If you believe it is, then it will be."

To believe.

The young man nods and sighs.

To believe in something, was what Taemin always did. From the day he was born, and up to the moment where everything was alright and tied up together. He believed that no one has ever seen a flower bloom. He believed that his brother was probably a knight of a forsaken kingdom. He believed his mother was the most beautiful human being to walk on earth, and that his father was a king.

He also believed that his red string is attatched to his pinky and the other end being wrapped around Minho's.

He sighs again, and he burries his face on his knees.

Sooner or later, he had to go back.

To that house, in the city.

Another performance was up and he needs to practice again.

Maybe he should find an apartment closer to the studio too. But it might be too pricy -he's going to have to find a good sideline, and not just those weird and boring jobs.

But it won't be home.

That means he's going to have to face Minho, sooner or later.

Taemin sighs the third time that night.

Day Fifty-three

Minho's back to his usual routine. Working, eating, working, moping, working, working then sleeping.

It was boring. It was really boring. The urge of doing what he needs and wants is starting to grow in his stomach. He feels like running, then going to the station and look for Taemin, but he doesn't. He stays at where ever he was at that moment, in the office, on the bed, on his little sofa. He stays put and he doesn't move. He's pushing that urge down, down to the depths of himself, leaving it there to be forgotten.

The more Minho does though, the more it hurt.

Day Fifty-four

Taemin's fiddling with some photos he brought along with him -and he didn't even know it. It had been in his bag for a long time, probably. Taemin wasn't surprised though, that he didn't know. He did things that he usually forgot he did. And it wasn't like he liked cleaning up things and making them neat and such.

The photos were what he expected, for the first five pictures. It was him and Key, him and his mates, his instructor, and then the station and the studio. The next one though, was a little bit of surprise.

It was Minho, sleeping. He looked peaceful too, like that.

The next picture was Minho eating an ice cream. He probably took it in the park, in one of those days when it was too hot. He looked pretty cute there. Taemin almost laughed.

Then it was Minho again, working this time. Then there was Jonghyun and Onew. Then there was Key and Jonghyun, with Onew hiding behind them. Then there was Minho laughing, smiling and all five of them too.

Then behind the last photo, was one those strips from the photobooths around town.

Four photos.

Four shots.

Four pictures of them sitting together in the small both, all cramped up and posing like crazy people. The last shot though, was them smiling together -and it looked kind of cute. They probably took it around his birthday or something -Taemin kind of remembers that day, it was a blur but he can see the images. He smiles back at the tiny photo and his eyes are getting glossy again.

He misses home.

Day fifty-five.

"Are you sure you have everything Taemin?"

"Yes, ma."

"Are you sure? Got your toothbrush? How about your beanie? You underwear?"

"Ma," he whines.

His mother chuckles and kisses his forehead.

"Have a safe trip, alright? Call me when you get there."

"Okay, okay. Don't worry too much, okay? I'll be stopping over in Auntie's place anyway, to sleep. It's already late. I'll just catch the morning bus,"

Taemin smiles at his mother with a grin she knows very well. His father didn't want to get off his chair -it was already warm, but he's looking outside. Taemin hugs his mom for the last time, before going, (she whispers something about a promise ;about returning or something.) Then he walks up to his dad inside to hug him too. He then steps out, after getting patted on the back. His mother is waving at him as he walks out.

Before he could even get out of the gates, his father yells,

"Bring him home next time, would 'ya?"

Day Fifty-six.

The train comes to a halt.

Taemin hops off with a little skip, he breathes in deeply and smells the familliar scent of this station. Winter's cold wind chills him -but something else is prickling on his skin. It was about seven in the morning, and he knows that Minho's probably getting ready for work, probably even walking down the stairs now. And then suddenly he wants to see Minho, but he doesn't as well. But now's not the good time to really be a coward. He needs to suck it up and just go.

So Taemin starts walking down a familliar road with yellow bricks, hopefully leading him home.

Minho's walking as well. It was a Tuesday morning, and things were starting to melt around him -the wind was still cold though, so he's face is burried in his scarf. He's looking down, then he looks back up, hands in his pockets and everything. He walks by a car and he checks himself in the window like it was a mirror. His hair's a little longer now, and wavey too. He should probably get a haircut or something. He looks back at the road, head down.

He looks up.

Minho almost misses that flash of copper hair walking by in front of him.

He continues walking, but his heart had probably stopped and he's probably dead.

Minho goes on walking, and it's like it's only them. That flash of copper hair, definitely dead on his tracks. The only thing he could hear was his breathing.

His feet die on him, Minho dares to even turn his head.

Taemin had already stopped a few steps when Minho passed by. He can't even look -but he wants to. He needs to. Because that scent he had loved, that he had loved so much is there. Pinecones, coffee and morning newspaper on Sunday. His sheets in the morning, the library at two in the afternoon, when he stands too close to the old books, and he smelled like home. His eyes are blurry, everything's turning around, spinning all over the place and he can't.

He can't look back.

Minho breathes, he breathes, he tries to breathe. His chest is tight, it's hard to breathe in his scarf. He's clenching his fists until they're already white, he's holding unto something he doesn't even know. Minho decides to just let go, and he does. His hands open wide but they're shaking. He can't tell if it was because of the chilly weather, or because he was breaking down. But after thinking through and through, he finally, after standing still for about two minutes or two hours, or maybe even two days, Minho finally turns and sees Taemin. He sees Taemin.

He can see Taemin.

Taemin knows it too well. That feeling of someone staring on the back of his neck, boring holes. He's not breathing anymore -he knows. Because he's chest is hot, in contrast of the icy wind. Taemin's cheeks are also red, and burning. His eyes are glossy, his head feels light and his lips are chapped. The young man's skin was a little pale, and he looked like the first time Minho saw him. He's numb too, so numb, but he turns. And he sees Minho. He sees Minho.

He can see Minho.

They're looking at each other, and Taemin thinks that what his dad told him is true. People probably fall out of love, just to see, if they can get back in. It's that part of their lives, of their relationship, of the story they're writing, where they're tested if they really did love, need and care for that person. Taemin can feel that. The rush of emotions and unspoken feelings, drowning him -suffocating him, in a way he doesn't even mind. He already forgot to breathe anyway -but that scent, that familliar scent is keeping him alive. He can see Minho's hands shaking a bit and he imagines how warm they must feel on his cold, cold skin. The icy weather was harsh.

Loneliness was harsh.

Minho forces his legs to move. Taemin's looking at him already -he can't just go, leave and be a coward. Minho still likes to think that he's not scared ;that he was brave. At least, in front of Taemin, he won't be. Minho promises to himself, he will be strong, and everyday he will believe. He's going to be a little more selfish this time, and never let go of Taemin's hands. He's thinking of something like wedding vows now, in his head -and it sorta makes me laugh but cry at the same time.

Minho's sobbing, he's sobbing while he walks to Taemin.

Taemin's looking at Minho who was crying. He's crying in front of him and he starts to sob too. They both are, so they're laughing at the faces they're making. Taemin had always been a crybaby -he wishes for himself to be strong, like Minho. Minho who seldonmly ever show he was weak. At least, in front of him. So Taemin promises, he'll try to let Minho trust him a little more -that he can be weak too, in front of him. That it's okay. And he promises that he won't stop beleiving on their fairytale -which had no ends, and no beginnings. It was just there, really -waiting to be discovered. Taemin feels like he just said a vow made in weddings, and that's kinda funny, but sad too at the same time.

He smiles while he cries, because Minho's there.

They're laughing and crying together and it feels like home.

Home.

Where they belong.

Home.

Where there is love.

Love.

Home is love.

In each other's arms, there was home.

(Minho makes a note to stop counting the days, because he found it. It's back in his arms and never to leave again -that he will make sure of.)

The man was right all along. Falling out of love, that them breaking up, was like a nightmare. But without it, he won't be able to appreciate the dreams, or at least, the reality of being with that person you feel at home with ;that you love.

In the apartment, Minho calls up the office to take the whole day off. Taemin had protested at first, and told him half the day would be fine, Minho sternly disagrees with this, saying he had to make up the fifty-six days of doing nothing. Taemin wonders if Minho seriously counted that. The man keeps his mouth shut about it.

They talk over hot coffee in their little kitchen. Minho's leaning on the sink, and Taemin's sitting on top of the counter across him. Things start to feel awkward, but it was warm. They hugged outside, but now they feel a little off ;a little shaken ;a little awkward. Because they're in each others presence, and it's been days, so many days that they're almost not used to it.

Taemin talks about how his mom and dad miss Minho. ("Your dad misses me?" Taemin laughs.)

Minho talks about how Jonghyun and him got into a fight, (hence the blackeye and some bruises Taemin actually didn't see much -he can't look at Minho's eyes at that moment.)

Taemin talks about how he missed Minho. (Minho is still for a few seconds.)

Minho talks about his lonely mornings. (Taemin wants to change that from now on.)

And that whole time, they didn't even spare a look at each other's faces, until of course, they knew they had to. They had nothing left to say and nothing left to do, but just look up and see. See that person, that only person they will ever care about. That only person they will ever make promises to. That only person they've found where home was.

That only person.

Taemin looks at Minho's face. It had few bruises and his left eye is probably in the process of healing -it still had a mark, but not much. Jonghyun probably punched him hard when they fought. He's going to have to ask Key later about it.

Minho looks Taemin's face. It was fresh and clean -but it look tired. He probably had sleepless nights, or something. Or maybe he cried a lot too. Taemin cries a lot, he remembers that. He also remembers the times he would calm him down with a simple hug and a few kisses here and there.

Taemin breathes in, and smiles, putting down the cup of coffee. He hops off the counter.

"I forgot to say," he says.

Minho smiles back, and asks, "What?"

Taemin takes a step forward, Minho gladly takes him to his arms again. Taemin's hands are around his neck, and it feels right. Familliar fingers touching him so softly. He nuzzles his face on the crook of Taemin's neck -he can finally breathe right. The young man smiles at this, the familliar warmth of Minho embracing him so tightly. He closes his eyes in the comfort of what he thought would never come back to him.

"I'm home."