The Finer Points of Studying 3/3

[honestfrank]

Title: The Finer Points of Studying 3/3
Genre: fluff, romance
Rating: PG-13-ish eventually
Pairings: 2min, JongKey
Word Count: 3218
Summary: Taemin undergoes examination preparation with Minho.
A/N: This is it. The end.I have no excuse for it's lateness, I just...don't like editing.
Part One
Part Two



The next few weeks were spent in the same manner. Minho and Taemin went about their daily lives, going to interviews, practicing choreography, rehearsing songs. There wasn't a lot of free time that wasn't spent doing necessary things like eating and sleeping, but what little there was Minho spent with Taemin, working through the textbooks.

Taemin was not an idiot, and for that Minho was thankful. He didn't have to spend days and days helping him come to simple conclusions, didn't need to drill him too much with memory work. For the most part he could read the pages, take some notes, and answer the questions Minho asked him without difficulty. That wasn't the hard part.

What truly got Minho into his increasingly frustrated state was the proximity in which he had to be with Taemin. Over and over, several times a week, he was subjected to hand touching, foot bumping. Rich Taemin fragrance. Long legs. Fingers that were both delicate and strong flipping pages, holding pencils, tapping out the tempo to unheard songs on tabletops. Small hums and sighs and huffs of frustration. And his lips...

It was killing him slowly.

Even Jinki, the champion of being oblivious, had noticed Minho's attitude change. “Minho, you do remember it's not you that has to take the exams, right?” he said jokingly one evening when Minho had come back from the park with Taemin in yet another sullen mood all attributed to sexual frustration.

“Ungh,” Minho mumbled as a reply, opening his laptop and settling into a chair.

All he wanted was a distraction.

They had studied at the park that day. Taemin had been laying down in the grass, poring over something inane in history. Minho had been lying down in front of Taemin, their bodies forming a sort of T on the ground.

“Minho, quiz me please?” he'd asked, pushing the book over. “I think I've got this but I'm not sure.”

Minho set down his phone and took the book, glancing through the pages to see what he'd covered before asking a question concerning the dates of some unknown war.

Taemin huffed. “That's a stupid question, I hate dates.”

“Can you answer it, or should I ask something else?” Minho was already scanning the page for something different and less number oriented.

“No, no, I want to try!” The squeezed his eyes shut tightly as if trying to visualize the page. “It was in 1670...70...” In his concentration he began tracing small circles on Minho's lower back. “Uhm...”

That had continued in various forms for the rest of the afternoon, Taemin doing his best to remember dates, Minho suffering through the torturous frustration building with every soft touch of Taemin's slender fingers.

It was very reasonable for him to be grumpy, he decided.

“Jinki's right,” Jonghyun mentioned much later when Minho walked into the room he shared.

Minho glanced up from the sheet of music he'd been running through. “What?”

Jonghyun was pulling off his shirt, rustling around in their shared closet for some sweats to wear to bed. “You've been irritated lately.”

Minho sat on his bed, sinking back on his pillows to stare at the ceiling. “I've been...uh...frustrated.” This was sounding oddly similar to the conversation he and Jonghyun had had a few weeks back.

“Over what?” Yeah, definitely similar.

Jonghyun was sitting on his bed now, cross-legged on the comforter and staring at Minho curiously.

Minho rolled over suddenly, burying his face in his pillow. “I can't do it anymore! I just can't! I'm so sick of everything, I just...”

His voice was muffled, and Jonghyun could barely make out what he was saying. “You just can't what?”

Minho was burning. Not only his face, though he was sure that was red, but his entire body. He felt like he was on fire, the built up tension and lust pouring through him, looking for an escape. He couldn't stop the flow of emotions now, not that he'd started it. “Studying.” His voice cracked, half between a whisper and a breath. “With Taemin. I just can't keep doing it.” He didn't want to meet Jonghyun's eyes, afraid of what he'd see there.

“Oh.” The response was painfully short. “Well....I suppose this isn't just about math, is it?”

Minho let out a breath. “No, not really.” Although he did still dislike math.

“Then I guess I get it. When you're...frustrated...over and over and over and it never stops--just gets worse--it's kind of a lot.”

Minho nodded violently, the words ringing true. “And you know you'll do something bad if you don't stop, right, and it's so vexing because you know you shouldn’t feel this way...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jonghyun was agreeing as well, sounding relieved himself. “Like, you don't know how you should feel? I've been there.”

Minho glanced over suddenly, realizing Jonghyun sounded an awful lot like he was speaking from experience. “You've been there?”

He was folding the corner of his blanket over, not meeting Minho's eyes. “Uhm, yeah. I have.”

“With who?”

Jonghyun crumpled the corner of the comforter in his fist, still not looking across the room. “You know them.”

Them. The lack of defining he or she was not lost on him. “Ok. Well.”

“It's not like I planned it or anything. It's just...he doesn't act like a guy even though he is one, and I just can't...when he dances...”

Minho wasn't sure how this conversation had gone from being about his frustration regarding Taemin to Jonghyun and...how had he not noticed? Surely he should have seen something sometime that would have alerted him to this! “Alright. Okay.”

Jonghyun was shaking lightly, his tremors causing his hands to fumble the blanket. “I haven't said anything about it before.”

Despite his sympathy for his hyung's plight Minho couldn't bring himself to try comfort him. The intensity of everything that was not quite said in the room was causing his brain to short circuit.

“I mean, I wouldn't have said anything at all, but I started to wonder since you were always, you know, angry when you came back and thought you might have a similar situation...”

“I wasn't angry,” Minho said, louder than he'd meant to. “I was just...”

“Frustrated?” Jonghyun sounded sympathetic.

He couldn't believe he was admitting this out loud. “I guess.”

“Ah.”

Minho forced himself to breathe deeply. In. Out. If only his heart would stop pounding so loudly. “It's been a long time since I realized that I...with him...” How much could he say? “But now, it's just that he's so touchy.”

“You think you know what touchy is?” Jonghyun asked dryly. “Don't talk until you've spent a day with Kibum.”

Minho snorted, trying to ignore the fact that a name was now floating around in the air between their beds. “I don't think I want to know.”

The other boy chuckled. “Yeah.”

“I think I'm going to ask Jinki or Kibum to take him out from now on,” he said finally, voicing his idea out loud, looking for a second opinion. “Not because I don't want to or anything, but so we don't have to be alone and so close all the time.”

“I'll do it,” Jonghyun said suddenly.

Minho choked, startled out of his thoughts by the abrupt offer. “What? You? Study?”

“It makes sense. We'll both be better off, won't we?” His face was reflection of how Minho felt--a mix of relief, desperation, and want--and Minho realized he must be having just as difficult of a time, being alone or nearly alone with Kibum so much.

“Probably. I'll tell Taemin tomorrow.”

They didn't say anything after that, just settling down to try to sleep, both painfully aware of the new feelings that had been revealed between them.

//

Taemin was not impressed with Minho.

“I'm going to be busy,” he'd said lamely the next morning when Taemin had told him the afternoon was free and that they should go back to that one coffee shop to study. “Jonghyun will take you from now on.”

“He's going to be so boring!” Taemin moaned, weaving around the kitchen, alternately glaring at Minho and huffing great sighs. “What are you busy with anyway? I thought you told me that your schedule was free today and you were only supposed to have that interview on Thursday with all of us.”

“Stuff. Things. I just can't go.” He was being vague and rude, but he had to get Taemin to stop asking questions.

He looked so pitiful though, and Minho softened a bit, already regretting his decision, but still not enough to revoke it. “I'll be here when you get back and we can watch a movie with everyone, okay?”

Taemin bit his lip and glanced down, looking for all the world like an abandoned puppy, then inclined his head slightly. “Okay.”

It wasn't something Minho wanted to do. In fact, he wouldn't be doing this at all if the younger boy hadn't gotten so skinship-oriented as of late. That aspect of their relationship had always been there and had increased as Taemin had aged and had begun growing more confident in himself, but it was always full of laughter and daring glances. It was more of a game than something serious. The more time they spent together though the more Minho was having a difficult time pulling back; the amount of time he spent touching Taemin was rapidly overtaking the amount of time he spent not touching him, and it made him nervous.

And the frustration. Oh, the frustration of having Taemin so close, and being so tempted to just reach out to him. It was like Taemin was asking for trouble lately, and it was all Minho could do to keep it to light touches, ones that only bordered on the edge of flirting. Even stronger than his desire to simply take Taemin and keep him all to himself, though, was the fear of scaring him away with too much.

Yes, he was doing the right thing. More than anything Minho wanted to have Taemin's friendship, and there was no way he was going to keep that if he accidentally ended up attacking him with lust the next time he had circles traced on his leg.

Jinki was not entirely impressed with the Minho-to-Jonghyun switch, and Kibum was even less so.

“Taemin was happy going with you,” Jinki said, clearly disappointed in Minho's choice to delegate the duty to his hyung. “I was wondering why he was acting upset today.” He shrugged. “I suppose you have your reasons, but I hope you start taking him again.”

Kibum was less diplomatic. “Jonghyun is a bad influence! He'll make Taemin fail!” he expostulated, his voice a good eight notches louder than it needed to be. “What's your excuse?!”

Minho cringed. “I...just...I couldn't anymore.”

“I don't care if you couldn't, you have to. Do you want him to graduate or not?” He was glaring at Minho, his eyes shooting veritable lasers.

For the first time he found himself wishing Taemin didn't have hyungs that were so protective. He looked at Kibum, pleading with his eyes, wanting him to understand. “Taemin is just so...”

Kibum stopped his tirade, an odd look crossing his face. “He just so what?”

“It's not a good situation, being so close to him.” How had it happened that he was close to confessing his feelings twice in twenty four hours, yet neither was actually to the person they were for?

The volume level of the room had dropped so quickly that Minho felt like he could almost hear the echos of Kibum's obnoxiously loud voice.

“Okay,” he said, and unexpectedly patted Minho's arm. “If he fails school it's entirely your fault, though.” And he left.

Minho dropped into a chair, unsure of whether that was supposed to be understanding, threatening, or both.

He dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his tired eyes. Yes, Taemin was off his back now, but somehow he didn’t feel any better. He ached, a mix of guilt and need churning inside him, making his head throb and his eyes burn.

Now he was frustrated and he couldn’t talk to Taemin. What a great improvement.

//

Things went fairly smoothly from there. Jonghyun continued taking Taemin out to study, and although Taemin didn't ever look particularly pleased with it, he didn't complain anymore. His relationship with Minho had changed abruptly though. The amount of touching between them had decreased rapidly due to the fact that they spent only a fraction of the time with each other that they had before, and the tension multiplied tenfold. Now each rare brush of hands, feet, every meeting of their eyes, was electric. Minho knew he was dying because he’d never felt so acutely alive before.

He wasn't sleeping well anymore, and judging by Taemin's increasingly dark-circled eyes, he wasn't either.

The tension was killing both of them. It was thick, clouding the air, its aura dark and smoky. Minho was beyond frustration, to the point where he was finding it difficult to breath whenever he was around Taemin.

He was working so earnestly to keep things normal though that he didn't realize he could never fix it the way he wanted to until it was too late.

“Minho-ah,” Taemin called to him one evening from the bedroom. It was just the two of them at the house, one of the first times they were alone since Minho had delegated the duty of studying with Taemin to Jonghyun.

“What?”

“Could you come here?” He sounded pensive, distracted. Curious, Minho pulled himself away from the computer, pausing the song he was listening to.

Taemin was on his bed, chewing on the end of his pen. His textbook was open in front of him and a sheet of what Minho presumed to be notes were on his left next to the wall. “I don't understand this.”

Minho raised his eyebrows. “If it's math I'm not coming near it.” A part of him desperately hoped that it was math; Taemin was looking dangerously attractive, legs longer than anything he'd ever seen before in a pair of tiny shorts (where did he even get those?), his shirt riding up to show the smooth skin of his lower back.

“Don't be stupid, does this look like math?” He waved around his sheet of notes. “It's English, babo.”

“Taemin!” Minho whined, not impressed with his subject choice. “I'm almost as bad at English as you are!”

“You're the only one home though, hyung,” Taemin said, reminding Minho of the reason why he’d stayed in the other room in the first place. “And you're a little bit better at it than me, so we can probably figure it out. It's not too much, only a few questions.”

Against his better judgment Minho gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, being careful not to make any contact with Taemin. “Fine. What are you looking at?”

Taemin wiggled closer to the wall, making room for Minho next to him. “Am I diseased or what?” he asked, rolling his eyes at Minho's caution. “Come here, lay down. I'll show you.”

Minho closed his eyes, wondering who out there had put Taemin up to getting him into situations like this one. He was always so close, looking so attractive, making his brain fog over and his reasoning power fly out the window. Just do it. You can handle yourself. Nodding quickly, mostly to convince himself that he really could handle it, Minho lowered himself to the bed. Taemin's bunk was not large, he realized; their bodies were right next to each other, close enough for him to feel the other boy's body heat as well as smell his scent, fresh and warm.

“Which one?” He asked, eyes glued to the textbook. Do not look over, do not look over, do not look over. You'll regret it. The words were swimming in front of his eyes, not making a whit of sense. “I hope you don't want me to translate or something...”

“Minho,” Taemin said, interrupting him, and Minho's heart thrilled at hearing his name come out of the younger's mouth.

“Hm?” He could feel the quality of his voice growing rougher, catching in his throat.

Taemin's shoulder was touching his, nudging him. The shock of bare skin against bare skin was galvanizing, making Minho seriously question his sanity sitting here so close to this beautiful person. How was he supposed to live without touching him like this?

“Will you just look at me already?” Taemin's voice was sharp, stinging like a whip. “You've been seeing everything but me for nearly a month, ever since you made Jonghyun study with me instead of you, and I'm so sick of it.”

He'd noticed?

Minho chanced a glance at him and saw everything he was feeling reflected in the younger boy's eyes. From the pent up frustration to the overwhelming need, it was all there. Mirrored. Everything he'd wanted was there, waiting. He'd just ignored it.

“Ah,” Minho breathed at the revelation, and then Taemin kissed him.

Minho felt the world explode into red-hot shards. His body melted down into nothing, then recreated itself, fiery and hard, molding into Taemin. They weren't people anymore, just massive pools of hunger, taking everything they want and more. Breath was forgotten as Minho's found himself taking control, pushing the younger back onto the bed reflexively to gain better access to him.

“You're an idiot,” Taemin gasped when they broke apart for a moment, sucking in air. Minho was hovering a hairsbreadth above him, barely supporting his own weight on his elbows.

“Me?” He laughed, resting his forehead on the pillow next to Taemin's head, breathing in his heady scent.

Taemin shifted himself so his legs were tangled with Minho's. “I was waiting for you to make a move, but you made me do it myself.” He pouted, and Minho kissed him again, just because he could.

“I'm sorry,” he said after another minute. “I was stupid. It won't happen again.” It wouldn't. Now that he had Taemin there was no way he was letting him go. The weeks of opposition, of headaches and frustration, seemed foolish now. Despite his resistance to the situation Taemin had managed to find a way to get close to him. But now that Minho also had him in his arms, warm and perfect and veritably humming with energy, he knew he was absolutely never making that mistake again.

Taemin kicked the textbook off the bed, making room for Minho to comfortably lie down next to him. “Prove it,” he said, the challenge clear in his eyes.

Minho smiled, cunning, and captured his mouth again. Challenge accepted.