SBB 2016 ENTRY #2: Green Grass and High Tides (As Far As the Eye Can See) (2/2)
Title: Green Grass and High Tides (As Far As the Eye Can See)
Pairing: Minho/Taemin
Rating: PG
Genre: Friendship/Romance
Warnings: None
Final Word Count: 14,262
It’s midafternoon, Taemin hasn’t stopped by yet, and Minho still doesn’t know his number. (He really should get around to that one of these days.)
As Taemin hadn’t indicated the day before that he wouldn’t be coming around, Minho’s got an antsy feeling working at the back of his head. He’s not worried or anything - what would there be to even be worried about? - but, just like the first few days after he’d first arrived, Minho is bored. Very bored.
So instead of waiting around, listening to the television that had been left on in the other room while his mom and dad had gone out for a walk on the beach, he decides to be proactive and actually do something about it. He’s pretty sure he remembers where Taemin lives, so he jams his feet into his sneakers and locks the door behind him.
The walk itself isn’t very long, less than ten minutes, and the weather is keeping to its usual trend of being all sunshine and bright blue skies, temperate and beautiful. The wind ruffles his hair as he walks and Minho pictures himself like this, walking with the ocean in view, every day of his life. He has to admit, it sounds pretty great. He can hear children laughing and shouting as they run through the sand and in the distance there’s a person flying a vibrantly colored kite. The sun pushes at his back, urging him along gently.
As it turns out, he recognizes Taemin’s house the minute he sees it. When he knocks on the door, it’s Taemin’s mom who answers with a smile. She invites him in, leading him through the house as she explains, “I think he went out to get something, but he should be back soon.” She shows him Taemin’s room and tells him that he’s welcome to wait there and that she’ll “be in the living room if you need anything, dear. Just give me a shout.”
Taemin’s mom is pretty cool.
He pushes open the door and walks into the half dark room. Minho’s eyes sweep across the room as the door clicks shut behind him but it’s too dark to really see anything. His hand is near the light switch when a shadow shifts near the half closed blinds.
“’Sup?”
Minho stumbles, banging into the door in surprise, and the light catches the side of Taemin’s face.
“Jesus, Taemin,” he says, walking forward. His hand is hovering over his racing heart, trying to get it to calm down. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Taemin laughs, light and easy, rolling his shoulders in a lazy shrug. He’s on his bed, leaning against the wall next to the window. The sunlight glints off his hair and makes it shine like golden thread.
A smile is creeping at the corners of Minho’s mouth. “What are you sitting in the dark for anyway?” He sits on the bed, fixing Taemin with a teasing look.
“Didn’t feel like moving,” Taemin says.
“Oh?”
Minho shifts, about to get up to turn on the light for him when Taemin’s hand wraps around his arm, just above the elbow. His fingers are hot.
“No, leave it,” he says. “I like it better this way.”
Minho makes a soft noise in response and settles back further on the bed, not quite next to Taemin, but close enough. He still can’t see perfectly, but his eyes have adjusted to the light enough that he can see Taemin’s laptop on the desk across the room, screen dark, and the pile of folded clothes stacked on the chair in front of it. His walls are mostly free of anything (unlike Minho, whose walls are heaped with posters and photographs and schedules) except for a small area above the head of his bed that looks like the start of a mini collage. Minho can’t make out what any of the images are.
He likes Taemin’s room, he decides. Even if he can’t see it very well yet, he likes it anyway.
“So what brings you here?” Taemin’s head rolls on his shoulders so he can look at Minho.
“You weren’t around and I got bored,” he answers honestly.
Taemin snickers at him and maybe Minho should feel slighted at that but he doesn’t really. In retaliation, he falls back on the bed, sprawled out like it’s his own. His head is just shy of the pillow.
“So - what? You just barge into my home and expect me to be entertainment?”
Minho gasps. “That’s not what you’re here for?” He asks incredulously.
Taemin digs into Minho’s ribs with his toes, jabbing lightly and repeatedly just to be annoying. Minho thinks about ignoring him until Taemin’s starts wiggling them around, trying to illicit a reaction. His feet are ceremoniously grabbed and Minho sits up, pulls Taemin from the wall so that he can trap Taemin’s arms against his sides. It’s all Taemin’s fault; he has instigated a tickle fight which they both know Minho is going to win, but Taemin is pretending to be shocked about it anyway.
The younger boy is thin and slippery, wriggling out of Minho’s grasp at every opportunity he steals, but Minho has height, weight, and strength on his side and the victor of the battle is unquestionable. Minho knocks Taemin over, the bed giving a lurch as it shifts with their momentum, and Taemin is completely trapped beneath Minho, legs locked and arms barricaded.
“Cheater, cheater!” He screeches happily, his head thrashing left and right and making absolutely no difference whatsoever.
Minho shifts, holding Taemin down with one arm so that he can use his hand to poke Taemin in the cheek.
“Admit defeat,” he jeers.
Poke.
“Never!” Taemin squirms more.
“You can never win against me!” Minho cries triumphantly. Poke, poke.
Taemin’s head comes up off the bed and he nearly head butts Minho right in the nose. Minho lurches back with an affronted “hey!” but he’s not about to let Taemin win this; he dives forward again and hooks his chin over Taemin’s shoulder, face practically buried in the sheets, and turns his head to bracket the back of it against Taemin’s cheek. He pushes back just slightly, rendering Taemin wholly and completely immobile.
There is a long pause where the two of them catch their breath; Minho can feel Taemin’s heartbeat beneath his, strong and steady.
“I win,” he says quietly. Taemin lets out a small huff and his head knocks against Minho’s as he relaxes.
Minho pokes Taemin’s cheek once more before he loosens his hold so that Taemin is free again. But Minho himself doesn’t feel the need to move so instead he lies there on top of Taemin, shifting a bit so that he’s not crushing the smaller boy.
Taemin doesn’t ask him to move, so he doesn’t. His face is still mostly pressed into the sheets and he can smell Taemin on them, musky and soft, and he takes a breath, his body unwinding. It occurs to him, distantly, that he could smell Taemin if he just turned his head the other way. With a small sound, Taemin frees his arms from where they were trapped at his sides and they fall onto the bed beside Minho’s.
The light filtering in through the gaps in the blinds reveals the constellations of dust floating through the air, creating their own universe in Taemin’s bedroom. Minho studies the bedside drawer with its chipped edges and small collection of bits and bobs scattered on top before his eyes drift over to the half open closet and the mess threatening to spill out of it. There’s a skateboard in the corner of the room and a calendar tacked up to the back of the door. This is where Taemin grew up, this is where he lives.
Minho can feel the sigh before he hears it, can feel the way Taemin’s chest rises before the soft exhalation tickles through the hair at the back of his head.
“Hey,” Taemin says, one hand coming up to prod at the center of Minho’s back. “You’re really heavy, you know.”
Minho grunts and rolls off of Taemin and they both shift, knees and elbows knocking, until they settle side by side on the narrow bed.
“What are you gonna do when you go back home?” Taemin asks and it hits Minho with such force when he realizes they’ve never really acknowledged that all of this - this - will only last for the summer.
He doesn’t really want to think about it.
He knows that it’s not just because he doesn’t have a plan for after, but he doesn’t want to think about that either.
Minho shrugs, the action bunching up his shirt around his neck a little. He can see Taemin glance at him from the corner of his eye and maybe he can sense that Minho doesn’t want to talk about it, maybe he can’t, but he drops the subject. Instead, when a motorcycle roars past, somewhere far, far down the street, Taemin tells him about the time his older brother got a motorcycle and Taemin tried to ride it. Minho listens carefully, the story painting a picture in his head as Taemin talks.
They trade anecdotes, learning about each other through funny stories and complaints and half-forgotten memories. And Minho thinks about what it would be like to have known Taemin all his life. He’s learning more about him every day, about this boy he only met a few weeks ago, and still it seems as if he was there through it all.
Taemin’s voice trails off and he breathes deeply. He must be getting sleepy from the dark and the heat and the quiet, and Minho feels a yawn building deep in his chest.
He stares at the ceiling until his eyes cross and then slip closed. There are tinny clinking sounds coming from somewhere beyond the door and Minho thinks that Taemin’s mother must be in the kitchen, maybe making dinner or something. He pretends for a moment that he’s known Taemin long enough that he wouldn’t even need to ask, wouldn’t need to be invited to stay for dinner, and he wonders what it would be like if he had a spot at the table like he was meant to be there.
Taemin’s mom invites him to stay for dinner and Minho accepts. His stomach does a little flip but he figures he must just be hungry. The food is delicious.
-
Taemin’s uncle dropped off his van some time earlier in the summer, way before Minho had even stepped foot on the beach that sunny, windy day weeks ago. It’s an old van, one of those roundish, bus-like 70’s contraptions from days of old and it’s been sitting parked against the curb a little ways down the road since. Truthfully, it’s probably an eyesore to Taemin’s neighbors but Taemin has assured them that his family would be taking it out for a camping trip when the weather turns cooler. Minho eyes the rusting bumpers and the crooked mirrors suspiciously but holds his tongue when Taemin urges him to climb atop it and sit beside him.
The sun is warm and the breeze is pleasant and Minho’s heels tap against the large front window as they watch the tiny specks of beachgoers frolicking down on the sand. Taemin leans back on his hands and Minho follows his lead, trying not to stare too hard at their hands next to each other on the rippled surface of the van. He’s darker now, darker than he was when he first arrived, darker even than Taemin who’s spent his life under this sun, and he can’t stop the flicker of excitement at that, at being Taemin’s equal in this way. It’s silly, it’s childish, it’s absurd even, but he figures he could maybe even pass for a local now and it stirs something inside him.
Beside him, Taemin tilts his face towards the sky, eyes closed, and Minho smiles.
-
Taemin decides one day that it’s imperative that he teach Minho how to catch crabs. So they grab a bucket and head out to the rocks and it’s not as far as Minho would have thought but they still have to climb over a cropping of large rocks, past the “secret” spot. Luckily the tide is low - Taemin must have known, Minho reasons - because the rocks that Taemin leads him to have small pools of water filling the sunken spaces and Minho knows that if they stay too long, the waves will start lapping at their feet. Looking back the way they came, it might even be difficult to get back if the sea rises too high.
There’s an impatient tug on his hand and then Taemin’s pulling him the last little bit to get to the rocks. He doesn’t see anything at first, but he crouches down next to Taemin and peers down into the gaps between the rocks. Then he sees them.
In a large crevice, Minho can see at least five small crabs, the one closest to him bubbling away wildly.
Taemin waddles off to a shallow tide pool nearby, still crouching, and unceremoniously sticks his hand into the water. After a moment where his hand circles around, chasing something, he pulls out a crab by the front claw and cups his hands around it. Duck walking back over to Minho, he opens his palm and displays the tiny crab to Minho. It can’t be much larger than a coin and it sits still in the middle of Taemin’s hand until it sprints quickly off the side and plummets to the ground, skittering to safety in the rocks.
With a snort, Taemin leaves it be and heads around to the other side of the rocks, hunching down once more. Holding up the stick they’d found along the way that Taemin had assured him would be important, Minho tries to follow his lead.
-
By the end of the day, neither of them will remember whose idea it was in the first place, but they walk to the pier. It’s foggy and Minho can’t see the rock at all when he leaves his house. Taemin is waiting for him across the street, sitting in front of the path down to the beach on the same bench he was when they first met. He doesn’t see Minho at first, his eyes trained out on the sea that’s not visible through the thick cloud of fog obscuring it.
Taemin jumps when Minho’s hand lands on his shoulder and he brushes Minho off, shoving him when Minho laughs. But he can see the smile Taemin’s fighting not to show and he ruffles the boy’s hair before they start off down the path.
It’s cold; they both have jackets on, doing little to combat the cold as they stubbornly continue wearing shorts and flip flops, their feet getting coated with wet sand as they walk along the shore. It’s so foggy it practically looks like it’s going to rain despite Taemin’s vehement reassurances that it will absolutely not rain, trust me on this, Minho. He zips his jacket up and shoves his hands in his pockets anyway and it’s not long before he sees Taemin do the same.
They decide to walk all the way there. That becomes another point of debate later on, when they can’t remember who suggested it and who agreed first, but in the end it doesn’t really matter much. They’re out in the early morning and they have a mission to accomplish. Minho’s never been one to back down and Taemin’s a firecracker in his own right, so when they’ve made up their minds, that’s it.
The wind whips at their faces and Minho’s sure he’s going to look like a complete mess by the time they get to the pier, much less when he returns home that night. It’s the windiest it’s ever been while he’s been here, the cold spray from the ocean bites at his cheeks and Minho swears he can see his breath. It’s amazing how grey everything looks - the sky, the water, the air in front of them. The sand even seems grey-tinged in the fog-coated light. It’s such a contrast to all the color that happens during the day - that’ll happen later if the fog ever decides to clear.
Gone is the bright blue sky and the golden sand, the deep blue ocean, the rocks, the grass, the clouds. All of it is grey. But Taemin beside him is the one shining beacon of color, a pop of life in the hazy surroundings. He is gold hair and tan skin, blue jacket on a white shirt and grey shorts. It’s almost shocking how bright he is, how much of a contrast he makes to everything around him, and Minho keeps stealing glances.
For his effort, Taemin never notices. He’s quiet for once, the headphones around his neck quietly blaring something that Minho can’t quite make out. It’s fine like this though. He can’t exactly say the weather’s nice, not when it’s like this and his nose is making subtle threats of breaking off, but there’s something about the two of them making this trek all the way out to the pier that feels like it will be worth it anyway.
Maybe.
(Hopefully.)
It’s miles away and Minho knows it’s going to take them a while, but he’s okay with that for right now.
The sun is making feeble (failing) attempts to break through the fog by the time they finally get to the pier. Predictably, there aren’t many people around and Minho has to wonder if the trip was really worth it until Taemin drags him to the cookie shop. Well, it’s warm inside and a few cookies never hurt anyone. (And if Taemin charms the shopkeepers into giving him an extra sample, well, who is Minho to blame them really?)
They stop by the candy shop too, just for good measure.
They’re at a standstill on what to do next when the sky gives a worrying rumble and, completely without regard for anyone or anything, begins to pour rain. Hot rain. Big, fat drops of rain that hit with an impact and pound on Minho’s head as he pushes Taemin across the street to get under an overhang. Around them, the other people milling about are similarly spurred into action and Minho, soaking wet already, turns to look at the boy next to him.
Taemin’s bangs drip water into his face and he shoves Minho when he laughs.
Deciding to at least try to be as dry as he possibly can, Minho abandons his soggy jacket and wrings it out, Taemin following suit. Seeing as how they still need to make their way all the way back to their houses, they enter a corner store (more of a surf shop, really, but they’ll take what they can get) in search of an umbrella. It takes ten minutes and help from one of the people behind the register before they’re able to locate a single flimsy black one, but it’s better than nothing.
The rain is still absolutely pouring when they exit the shop but they would have been silly to expect anything else. Taemin’s arm is warm against Minho’s cold back as they hurry down the street, laughing and making fools of themselves as they try not to slip in their wet shoes, pressed together underneath the umbrella.
Halfway back, the rain slows and finally stops, but the damage is done. Minho is shivering in his tank top, his jacket still damp and cold, and Taemin is in a similar state. But then Taemin’s teasing him, hurling himself forward when Minho goes to tickle him, sprinting away with his laughter trailing behind him. Minho folds down the umbrella and goes chasing after them and there’s no way they can keep this up all the way home but Taemin may be determined to try - Minho’s just got to catch him first. The wind is whipping past him and it’s freezing but Minho can’t think of anything but grabbing onto Taemin’s hand and running next to him.
Taemin’s completely wrong - it rained. (But, to be fair, Minho doesn’t think he minds it in the slightest.)
-
His parents have noticed how he’s out for most of the day, Minseok keeps asking after Taemin with a knowing smirk that drives Minho crazy - even Taemin’s mom has started to act as if him and Taemin being together is fact rather than choice. It’s not like Minho is bothered by it. The two of them became friends quickly and Minho’s not shy about the fact that he’d rather be out with Taemin on the rocks or getting knocked over by the surf or going into town to search through weird antique stores than lying around at the house wasting his summer. Taemin, too, finally has something new and different to do for the summer and Minho’s not going to let that slip away if he can help it.
The problem is just the way everyone’s acting about it, as if they know some sort of secret that Minho’s not privy to, like he’s not allowed in on whatever those silly little smiles mean, or why everyone’s voices seem to go saccharine when they say goodbye to the two of them. He figures he probably shouldn’t worry about it too much, but he can’t shake off the feeling that he’s missing something. (And it feels like something important.)
Taemin’s waiting for him at the secret spot, lunch all wrapped up in the bundle of his towel like some sort of vagrant traveler. Minho’s got his own food stored inside a bucket and he might have gotten a few weird looks walking down the beach, but he’s not really bothered. He’s here now anyway. Taemin hops up when he sees Minho and they walk further down the shoreline, stopping only to play with a wet dog that seems to have taken a liking to Taemin. By the time it runs off, Taemin’s started up another story about the summer they had so many jellyfish - I mean, really, Minho. You wouldn’t have believed it, there were so many.
They’re not to the pier yet (maybe they never had any intention of going at all) but they pick a spot in the sand and sit down, Taemin’s towel becoming their blanket. Minho can see himself reflected in Taemin’s sunglasses, can see his smile and the way the wind and the sea spray has made his hair all curly. When Taemin kicks off his shoes and his feet rest in the sand beside Minho’s, it’s with a start that Minho realizes his skin is as tough as Taemin’s, his feet worn and sand-smoothed just like the other boy’s. Weeks ago when he’d first arrived, the rocks and sand and water had attacked his poor, untouched feet, too used to a life stuffed in shoes - a true vacationer. But now their feet rest next to each other’s and it’s almost as if Minho had lived his whole life here, right with Taemin.
The thought makes him smile and when Taemin asks what’s so funny, Minho just takes a bite of his sandwich and shakes his head.
-
The antique shops are probably Minho’s favorite part of going into town. His parents like the art galleries, and Minseok tends to stay around the surf shops, but Minho - he likes the odds and ends he can find in the dusty old shops. He’d only gotten a peek of them when they first got into town but when Taemin grouses about what to do one day, Minho steals his chance.
He convinces his parents to drive them all into town and his dad plays old music while his mom sings along. Taemin is squished into the backseat in-between Minho and Minseok and is being subjected to sly taunts from Minseok. Minho tries to steadily ignore his brother, taking Taemin’s attention away with the lure of his phone; it’s easy enough to let everything else fade into the background when Taemin’s knee is solidly pressed against his own.
They all split off on their own almost immediately, Taemin dragging Minho to his favorite antique shop a ways down the road and around the corner. A large stuffed bear outside the door greets them and Minho high fives its raised paw as they walk into the shop. The store is brighter than the ones in the town over but more labyrinthine he soon finds out, as they wind through different rows and room. Minho quickly becomes lost but it doesn’t really matter because Taemin seems to know exactly where he’s going.
“Hey,” Minho says turning around. “What do you think about this?”
When Taemin turns around, he lifts the stuffed duck lamp for the other boy to see. Taemin sets a jar of old buttons down on the shelf and inches forward, eyes wide.
“Woah,” he breathes, blinking rapidly. He looks up at Minho, mouth still slightly open. “This is hideous.”
Minho’s laugh is inappropriately loud and he ducks behind a shelf of typewriters to hide as he tries to catch his breath.
An old teddy bear sticks its head around the corner, far too close to Minho’s face. He can smell the dust on it, that old, musty smell of something sitting stagnant in a room for too long. With a grimace he pulls back, only for the bear to come closer.
“What’s wrong, Minho?” asks a squeaky voice, the bear jiggling in time.
“Ugh, Taemin.” Minho bats at the bear with a laugh but it comes closer again.
“Love me, Minho. Love meeee.”
The bear is thrust closer and for one frightening moment Minho thinks it will come into contact with his face. He shuffles back, losing his balance and nearly upending a small table of glassware.
“Be careful, Minho!” The bear squeaks.
“Yeah,” Taemin says, stepping into view and holding a hand out. “If you break something you’ll have to pay for it.”
He tries to keep his face neutrally pleasant but Minho catches the smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. Grabbing Taemin’s hand, Minho hoists himself up and pulls Taemin into a headlock.
They stop into another antique store a few shops down before meeting back up with the rest of Minho’s family. He’s laden down with a bag of purchases - an old soccer jersey that he bought for himself and a pair of glass salt and pepper shakers in the shape of elephants that Taemin (somehow) managed to convince him to buy. Minho shakes his head, trying to dispel Taemin’s ridiculous puppy eyes and teasing voice, but there’s a smile on his face anyway.
No matter, though, he thinks. He goaded Taemin into buying an old leather wallet and it hadn’t even been all that hard.
When Taemin sleeps over that night - for no reason other than to play scary videos games - he convinces Minho to sleep out on the day bed with him instead of going back to his room and leaving Taemin alone.
“I’m not scared,” he’d insisted. “But you might be.”
The challenging leer he’d given Minho had been enough to convince him. Taemin takes the bottom roll out bed - “because you’re smaller,” Minho says, raising an eyebrow - and Minho takes the main bed that gives terrible, squeaky creaking noises with the slightest movement. And despite the lack of privacy in the open room, they talk well into the night, quiet whispers drifting up and down between them.
In the morning, Minho wakes up to the bustle of his parents in the living room. When Taemin wakes up not long after, he shuffles into the kitchen, wrapped in a blanket that tangles around his legs, making him waddle around the room after Minho, all messy haired and bleary eyed, squinting as Minho makes coffee for him.
-
The only time Minho ever has trouble falling asleep is when it’s really hot. One time, way back when he was in middle school there was a night where he was struck with terrible insomnia: the air conditioner had broken right at the peak of summer and young Minho, exhausted and frustrated, had been unable to fall asleep for almost two days. It had never been that bad since - he always kept a fan in his room after that. Just in case - but occasionally the temperature would rise too high and he’d be left lying in his bed, sweaty and unable to fall asleep.
It had only ever been because of the heat.
But tonight was not particularly hot, in fact, it was actually quite chilly. Minho was bundled up under his covers, hood up over his head, and by all accounts he should be sound asleep like his brother is. Minho looks over to the bed across from his and scowls, sticking his tongue out childishly because it’s dark and he’s been trying to sleep for two hours.
He pulls out his phone and scrolls endlessly, watches a few videos until the light starts getting to his head, sleep pounding at his brain. But that’s the problem isn’t it? There’s something niggling at the back of his mind, prodding at him to try and get him to notice but he just cannot figure out what it is. It’s like leaving the house and feeling like he’s forgotten something only to reach into his pocket hours later and find he’s left his wallet behind. Minho rubs his head angrily against the pillow in spite.
For some reason, though, Minho’s thoughts always seem to circle back to Taemin. The idea makes his insides squirm in embarrassment, but logically he knows it must be because he and Taemin have been spending all their time together. It must be. Obviously. Even so, the boy’s blond hair, his smile, the way he laughs with his face all screwed up and his head thrown back, how he held out his hand to help pull Minho up the steep rocks - it all swirls in Minho’s head like some sort of art project gone wrong.
And even though it’s cool in the room, he feels like he’s overheating, shaking so hard inside that there’s sparks flying around his ribcage trying to catch fire like his heart is kindling. He could kick off his covers but that’s not the problem, not really. So, instead he stares at the ceiling and watches the shadows morph into a giant blob as he thinks about beach. If he tries hard enough, he can almost imagine the sound of the waves, he can almost hear it. Almost.
But almost isn’t good enough. With a quick glance at his brother, still sleeping, Minho unlatches the window and opens it. Cool wind floats in and hits Minho’s face and he lets out a relieved sigh. He lies back down, finally relaxing. The window’s barely open; just a crack, just enough that can hear the waves crash and the wind blow.
Somehow, it sounds like Taemin’s voice.
-
(Minseok yells at him in the morning for having opened the window, but Minho’s never slept so well.)
-
The seagulls wake him up, loud and squawking and entirely unpleasant to his sleep clogged ears. A little yappy dog's barking starts up and joins the cacophony ringing dully through the room. Minho buries his head under his pillow with a pitiful groan.
When it becomes apparent that the noise isn’t going to just go away no matter how much he wishes, pleads, and prays, Minho’s arms relinquish their position of protecting his ears and they flop onto the bedcovers with a resounding thump. He lies there weakly, mind slogging around until it picks up on a little whispered thread of Taemin and slams into a whirring, stuttering overdrive. Minho runs his fingertips over the blankets as he resigns and allows his heart to thud happily in his chest, Taemin’s smile flitting through his thoughts.
The hems of his sweatpants are hooked over the bottom of his feet as he shuffles into the kitchen, the floor a cold shock from the carpet in the hallway.
Taemin stops by not long after Minho’s gotten dressed and immediately pulls him out the door.
“Where are we going?” he asks, amused.
Taemin looks back at him like he’s stupid. “My house.” The unspoken duh is implicit.
They waste no time in circling around Taemin’s house to the backyard and ascending the ladder propped up against the side of the house. It’s not until they’ve settled themselves onto a flat strip of the roof that Minho realizes he has no idea what they’re actually doing.
As if reading his mind, Taemin pulls up a small bag from near him. He must have brought them up earlier because Minho can’t remember him having them before, but he has no time to wonder because when Taemin pulls out a pair of binoculars more questions race through his head.
“Tada!”
Minho gives him a confused smile. “What are we doing exactly?”
“Whale watching,” Taemin says as he settles himself more comfortable against the roof.
And though they’d often spotted animals on the fly, it hadn’t occurred to Minho that they might actually proactively look for them.
“Oh. Yeah.” Minho copies him, back resting against a sloped part of the roof. “Of course.”
Taemin takes the first watch, telling Minho about all of the animals that pass through this part of the ocean in the summer. And when Minho takes the binoculars, resting his elbows against his knees, Taemin talks about how much he hates having to share a room with his brother when any of his relatives come to visit.
“He snores and talks in his sleep,” Taemin says, flopping on his stomach. His face is creased in a frown as he rolls dirt clods off the edge of roofing.
Minho’s about to nod in solidarity when he catches something out of the edge of the binoculars. He makes a small noise that has Taemin sitting up, excitedly asking “what? What? Did you see something?”
“Hold on,” Minho murmurs, scanning the horizon more diligently now.
And there it is - the water glinting off of a dark back.
“Whale!” He says triumphantly, scanning again to see if he can find one.
He and Taemin trade the binoculars back and forth until Taemin spots a splash that even Minho, without any aid, can see from their spot.
“I think it’s a baby,” Taemin says, passing the binoculars back so Minho can see. “It’s tail was coming out of the water.”
Minho finds the whale, still splashing around and makes an appropriately awed sound when -
“Oh wow,” Taemin breathes. Minho can only agree.
The whale starts slapping its tail against the surface of the water, spinning in a circle as it moves. Minho lowers the binoculars and turns to find Taemin already looking at him, excitement clearly radiating from him. They can hear the sound from where they’re sitting and Minho feels a sense of wonder rush through him.
-
The sky is tinted pink and purple as the waves darken in front of them. Minho lounges back against the log in the secret spot - their secret spot now - stretching back until he’s laid out fully, one leg pulled up, the other dangling lazily, hands cushioned behind his head. With his eyes closed, he listens to the waves lapping and crashing, children laughing to one side, a dog barking happily off to the other. In front of him, Taemin leans against a branch on the log, eyes trained on the ocean. Like always, Minho thinks, a slow smile forming on his lips.
The tide is rising, already had been by the time they arrived, and it won’t be long before they’ll have to head back or risk getting their feet wet. But Minho’s too content to move and the sun hasn’t finished setting yet so he thinks they have time. And, knowing Taemin, even if they don’t, he’ll make time.
Minho’s mind drifts as they exist in silence, just taking in the sound of the waves. He thinks back to yesterday when his ice cream had melted all over his hands, and to last month when Taemin thought he’d seen a snake near the cliff, and to a few weeks ago when they’d gone to feed the ducks.
Their bag had been nearly emptied when they’d heard, “Hey! What are you kids doing?”
And Taemin’s hand had wrapped around Minho’s wrist and he’d pulled him, the two of them stumbling off the little wooden dock and back down to the dirt path, sprinting through the streets in the fading light as Taemin’s laughter had rung out in front of him, clear as a bell.
The memory elicits a smile from Minho and he cracks his eyes open, looking at Taemin. The other boy hasn’t moved and he doesn’t notice as Minho continues to watch him, mind trying to piece everything together. The summer has felt like a whirlwind and he’s not ready to let it go yet, still itching for something.
Taemin smells like ocean sunshine, bottled up in a bright, blond haired boy; his sun faded hair glints in the light and the sound of his laughter floats like a melody on the wind.
He thinks he might love Taemin like he loves the ocean, like Taemin loves the ocean. Because in the time they’ve spent together, the two have become almost synonymous in Minho’s mind and while it should scare him, mostly it just makes him feel a little fluttery. Minho thinks back to the city he grew up in, fast and loud and rising up on all sides, and looks out to the ocean that Taemin was born from. He really wants to hold Taemin's hand.
It’s just one summer and he wants to take a chance.
“Hey,” he says softly, sitting up and scooting closer.
Taemin hums, eyes still on the water.
“What’s going to happen when I leave?”
And even though his voice is still quiet, Taemin hears him loud and clear, turning around at last to look at Minho. His hand is right next to Minho’s and Minho can hardly stand it.
“What do you mean?”
“Well…”
Minho scratches his head and looks down. This is the hard part. This is the part that he hadn’t really thought through properly and he’s here already without really realizing it. The thing is, Taemin’s going to be the one holding all the power (and maybe he had it all along, Minho wouldn’t really doubt it) and Minho doesn’t really want to spend the time thinking of all the what ifs and could bes anymore.
“I’m going to be leaving,” he says finally, looking up. “So what’s going to happen with us?”
His fingers bridge the gap, inching forward to twist into Taemin’s and hold on.
The implications of it all is screaming in Minho’s face, the intention obvious. It’s not a question of will you keep in touch or will you miss me? Because I’ll miss hanging out with you every day even though we do the same damn thing every time, but it’s fun because it’s with you. He doesn’t want to lose Taemin’s friendship, but suddenly the decision isn’t in his hands anymore; the ball is in Taemin’s court and he regards Minho calmly, his hair shifting in the breeze.
“Well,” Taemin says, looking away for a moment. “Whatever it is, I hope you won’t forget about me because I really like you and that would be a total bummer.”
He looks back at Minho, his mouth twisted in an embarrassed smile that doesn’t hide the light in his eyes. His fingers slip properly into place with Minho’s, their palms pressed together.
Oh, Minho thinks as everything slots into place and "oh," he breathes as his fingers tighten around Taemin's.
Minho laughs, the sound trickling happily from his mouth as he looks up at Taemin.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
I can definitely do that.
-
Taemin is there, of course he is, when Minho’s dad loads the last suitcase into the trunk of the car. The two of them are standing off to the side, waiting for Minho’s mom and Minseok to complete their inspection of the house to make sure they won’t leave anything behind.
“So,” Taemin says, rocking on his feet, hands curled loosely in the hem of his shirt and tucked under the fabric.
“So,” Minho agrees.
Taemin tilts his head back a little, looking up at Minho. “I figure it’s about time you ask me for my number.”
And Minho laughs, shoving Taemin and knocking him off balance.
“Hey! Be nice or I won’t give it to you!” Taemin threatens above Minho’s laughter.
“Okay, okay,” he acquiesces and then clears his throat as he stands a little straighter. “Taemin,” he says in a grave voice. “Will you give me your number?”
Taemin snorts at him but motions for Minho to hand him his phone. They swap back after and, completely unnecessarily, a streak of giddiness flares through Minho when he sees Taemin’s name on his screen.
Minho’s mom and Minseok come back outside and the house is locked up for the last time. All at once, Minho is swept up in sentimentality and he hugs Taemin tightly, only slightly embarrassed that his family might be watching. But Taemin’s arms come up strong around his waist and Minho forgets all about it, breathing Taemin in one more time.
When they pull back, Taemin asks, eyes shining brightly, “are you coming back next summer?”
Minho laughs, throwing an arm around Taemin’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “We’re coming back next year.”
“Good,” Taemin says decisively.
And then, from the car, Minseok crows at them, “you gonna kiss now?”
Minho shouts at his brother, grumbling under his breath as Taemin laughs. Throwing caution to the wind, Minho leans in and swiftly kisses Taemin’s cheek and he’s rewarded with that mischievous smile of Taemin’s that he’s grown so used to.
When Minho’s family has piled into the car and they’re pulling out of the driveway, Minho turns around to wave at Taemin one more time. Taemin, off on the side of the road, raises his hand and waves back. Then, he’s curling his other hand into a fist and holding it up next to his ear, mouthing call me to Minho with an impish smile.
Minho laughs. He can’t wait until next summer.
Return to Part One
Pairing: Minho/Taemin
Rating: PG
Genre: Friendship/Romance
Warnings: None
Final Word Count: 14,262
It’s midafternoon, Taemin hasn’t stopped by yet, and Minho still doesn’t know his number. (He really should get around to that one of these days.)
As Taemin hadn’t indicated the day before that he wouldn’t be coming around, Minho’s got an antsy feeling working at the back of his head. He’s not worried or anything - what would there be to even be worried about? - but, just like the first few days after he’d first arrived, Minho is bored. Very bored.
So instead of waiting around, listening to the television that had been left on in the other room while his mom and dad had gone out for a walk on the beach, he decides to be proactive and actually do something about it. He’s pretty sure he remembers where Taemin lives, so he jams his feet into his sneakers and locks the door behind him.
The walk itself isn’t very long, less than ten minutes, and the weather is keeping to its usual trend of being all sunshine and bright blue skies, temperate and beautiful. The wind ruffles his hair as he walks and Minho pictures himself like this, walking with the ocean in view, every day of his life. He has to admit, it sounds pretty great. He can hear children laughing and shouting as they run through the sand and in the distance there’s a person flying a vibrantly colored kite. The sun pushes at his back, urging him along gently.
As it turns out, he recognizes Taemin’s house the minute he sees it. When he knocks on the door, it’s Taemin’s mom who answers with a smile. She invites him in, leading him through the house as she explains, “I think he went out to get something, but he should be back soon.” She shows him Taemin’s room and tells him that he’s welcome to wait there and that she’ll “be in the living room if you need anything, dear. Just give me a shout.”
Taemin’s mom is pretty cool.
He pushes open the door and walks into the half dark room. Minho’s eyes sweep across the room as the door clicks shut behind him but it’s too dark to really see anything. His hand is near the light switch when a shadow shifts near the half closed blinds.
“’Sup?”
Minho stumbles, banging into the door in surprise, and the light catches the side of Taemin’s face.
“Jesus, Taemin,” he says, walking forward. His hand is hovering over his racing heart, trying to get it to calm down. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Taemin laughs, light and easy, rolling his shoulders in a lazy shrug. He’s on his bed, leaning against the wall next to the window. The sunlight glints off his hair and makes it shine like golden thread.
A smile is creeping at the corners of Minho’s mouth. “What are you sitting in the dark for anyway?” He sits on the bed, fixing Taemin with a teasing look.
“Didn’t feel like moving,” Taemin says.
“Oh?”
Minho shifts, about to get up to turn on the light for him when Taemin’s hand wraps around his arm, just above the elbow. His fingers are hot.
“No, leave it,” he says. “I like it better this way.”
Minho makes a soft noise in response and settles back further on the bed, not quite next to Taemin, but close enough. He still can’t see perfectly, but his eyes have adjusted to the light enough that he can see Taemin’s laptop on the desk across the room, screen dark, and the pile of folded clothes stacked on the chair in front of it. His walls are mostly free of anything (unlike Minho, whose walls are heaped with posters and photographs and schedules) except for a small area above the head of his bed that looks like the start of a mini collage. Minho can’t make out what any of the images are.
He likes Taemin’s room, he decides. Even if he can’t see it very well yet, he likes it anyway.
“So what brings you here?” Taemin’s head rolls on his shoulders so he can look at Minho.
“You weren’t around and I got bored,” he answers honestly.
Taemin snickers at him and maybe Minho should feel slighted at that but he doesn’t really. In retaliation, he falls back on the bed, sprawled out like it’s his own. His head is just shy of the pillow.
“So - what? You just barge into my home and expect me to be entertainment?”
Minho gasps. “That’s not what you’re here for?” He asks incredulously.
Taemin digs into Minho’s ribs with his toes, jabbing lightly and repeatedly just to be annoying. Minho thinks about ignoring him until Taemin’s starts wiggling them around, trying to illicit a reaction. His feet are ceremoniously grabbed and Minho sits up, pulls Taemin from the wall so that he can trap Taemin’s arms against his sides. It’s all Taemin’s fault; he has instigated a tickle fight which they both know Minho is going to win, but Taemin is pretending to be shocked about it anyway.
The younger boy is thin and slippery, wriggling out of Minho’s grasp at every opportunity he steals, but Minho has height, weight, and strength on his side and the victor of the battle is unquestionable. Minho knocks Taemin over, the bed giving a lurch as it shifts with their momentum, and Taemin is completely trapped beneath Minho, legs locked and arms barricaded.
“Cheater, cheater!” He screeches happily, his head thrashing left and right and making absolutely no difference whatsoever.
Minho shifts, holding Taemin down with one arm so that he can use his hand to poke Taemin in the cheek.
“Admit defeat,” he jeers.
Poke.
“Never!” Taemin squirms more.
“You can never win against me!” Minho cries triumphantly. Poke, poke.
Taemin’s head comes up off the bed and he nearly head butts Minho right in the nose. Minho lurches back with an affronted “hey!” but he’s not about to let Taemin win this; he dives forward again and hooks his chin over Taemin’s shoulder, face practically buried in the sheets, and turns his head to bracket the back of it against Taemin’s cheek. He pushes back just slightly, rendering Taemin wholly and completely immobile.
There is a long pause where the two of them catch their breath; Minho can feel Taemin’s heartbeat beneath his, strong and steady.
“I win,” he says quietly. Taemin lets out a small huff and his head knocks against Minho’s as he relaxes.
Minho pokes Taemin’s cheek once more before he loosens his hold so that Taemin is free again. But Minho himself doesn’t feel the need to move so instead he lies there on top of Taemin, shifting a bit so that he’s not crushing the smaller boy.
Taemin doesn’t ask him to move, so he doesn’t. His face is still mostly pressed into the sheets and he can smell Taemin on them, musky and soft, and he takes a breath, his body unwinding. It occurs to him, distantly, that he could smell Taemin if he just turned his head the other way. With a small sound, Taemin frees his arms from where they were trapped at his sides and they fall onto the bed beside Minho’s.
The light filtering in through the gaps in the blinds reveals the constellations of dust floating through the air, creating their own universe in Taemin’s bedroom. Minho studies the bedside drawer with its chipped edges and small collection of bits and bobs scattered on top before his eyes drift over to the half open closet and the mess threatening to spill out of it. There’s a skateboard in the corner of the room and a calendar tacked up to the back of the door. This is where Taemin grew up, this is where he lives.
Minho can feel the sigh before he hears it, can feel the way Taemin’s chest rises before the soft exhalation tickles through the hair at the back of his head.
“Hey,” Taemin says, one hand coming up to prod at the center of Minho’s back. “You’re really heavy, you know.”
Minho grunts and rolls off of Taemin and they both shift, knees and elbows knocking, until they settle side by side on the narrow bed.
“What are you gonna do when you go back home?” Taemin asks and it hits Minho with such force when he realizes they’ve never really acknowledged that all of this - this - will only last for the summer.
He doesn’t really want to think about it.
He knows that it’s not just because he doesn’t have a plan for after, but he doesn’t want to think about that either.
Minho shrugs, the action bunching up his shirt around his neck a little. He can see Taemin glance at him from the corner of his eye and maybe he can sense that Minho doesn’t want to talk about it, maybe he can’t, but he drops the subject. Instead, when a motorcycle roars past, somewhere far, far down the street, Taemin tells him about the time his older brother got a motorcycle and Taemin tried to ride it. Minho listens carefully, the story painting a picture in his head as Taemin talks.
They trade anecdotes, learning about each other through funny stories and complaints and half-forgotten memories. And Minho thinks about what it would be like to have known Taemin all his life. He’s learning more about him every day, about this boy he only met a few weeks ago, and still it seems as if he was there through it all.
Taemin’s voice trails off and he breathes deeply. He must be getting sleepy from the dark and the heat and the quiet, and Minho feels a yawn building deep in his chest.
He stares at the ceiling until his eyes cross and then slip closed. There are tinny clinking sounds coming from somewhere beyond the door and Minho thinks that Taemin’s mother must be in the kitchen, maybe making dinner or something. He pretends for a moment that he’s known Taemin long enough that he wouldn’t even need to ask, wouldn’t need to be invited to stay for dinner, and he wonders what it would be like if he had a spot at the table like he was meant to be there.
Taemin’s mom invites him to stay for dinner and Minho accepts. His stomach does a little flip but he figures he must just be hungry. The food is delicious.
-
Taemin’s uncle dropped off his van some time earlier in the summer, way before Minho had even stepped foot on the beach that sunny, windy day weeks ago. It’s an old van, one of those roundish, bus-like 70’s contraptions from days of old and it’s been sitting parked against the curb a little ways down the road since. Truthfully, it’s probably an eyesore to Taemin’s neighbors but Taemin has assured them that his family would be taking it out for a camping trip when the weather turns cooler. Minho eyes the rusting bumpers and the crooked mirrors suspiciously but holds his tongue when Taemin urges him to climb atop it and sit beside him.
The sun is warm and the breeze is pleasant and Minho’s heels tap against the large front window as they watch the tiny specks of beachgoers frolicking down on the sand. Taemin leans back on his hands and Minho follows his lead, trying not to stare too hard at their hands next to each other on the rippled surface of the van. He’s darker now, darker than he was when he first arrived, darker even than Taemin who’s spent his life under this sun, and he can’t stop the flicker of excitement at that, at being Taemin’s equal in this way. It’s silly, it’s childish, it’s absurd even, but he figures he could maybe even pass for a local now and it stirs something inside him.
Beside him, Taemin tilts his face towards the sky, eyes closed, and Minho smiles.
-
Taemin decides one day that it’s imperative that he teach Minho how to catch crabs. So they grab a bucket and head out to the rocks and it’s not as far as Minho would have thought but they still have to climb over a cropping of large rocks, past the “secret” spot. Luckily the tide is low - Taemin must have known, Minho reasons - because the rocks that Taemin leads him to have small pools of water filling the sunken spaces and Minho knows that if they stay too long, the waves will start lapping at their feet. Looking back the way they came, it might even be difficult to get back if the sea rises too high.
There’s an impatient tug on his hand and then Taemin’s pulling him the last little bit to get to the rocks. He doesn’t see anything at first, but he crouches down next to Taemin and peers down into the gaps between the rocks. Then he sees them.
In a large crevice, Minho can see at least five small crabs, the one closest to him bubbling away wildly.
Taemin waddles off to a shallow tide pool nearby, still crouching, and unceremoniously sticks his hand into the water. After a moment where his hand circles around, chasing something, he pulls out a crab by the front claw and cups his hands around it. Duck walking back over to Minho, he opens his palm and displays the tiny crab to Minho. It can’t be much larger than a coin and it sits still in the middle of Taemin’s hand until it sprints quickly off the side and plummets to the ground, skittering to safety in the rocks.
With a snort, Taemin leaves it be and heads around to the other side of the rocks, hunching down once more. Holding up the stick they’d found along the way that Taemin had assured him would be important, Minho tries to follow his lead.
-
By the end of the day, neither of them will remember whose idea it was in the first place, but they walk to the pier. It’s foggy and Minho can’t see the rock at all when he leaves his house. Taemin is waiting for him across the street, sitting in front of the path down to the beach on the same bench he was when they first met. He doesn’t see Minho at first, his eyes trained out on the sea that’s not visible through the thick cloud of fog obscuring it.
Taemin jumps when Minho’s hand lands on his shoulder and he brushes Minho off, shoving him when Minho laughs. But he can see the smile Taemin’s fighting not to show and he ruffles the boy’s hair before they start off down the path.
It’s cold; they both have jackets on, doing little to combat the cold as they stubbornly continue wearing shorts and flip flops, their feet getting coated with wet sand as they walk along the shore. It’s so foggy it practically looks like it’s going to rain despite Taemin’s vehement reassurances that it will absolutely not rain, trust me on this, Minho. He zips his jacket up and shoves his hands in his pockets anyway and it’s not long before he sees Taemin do the same.
They decide to walk all the way there. That becomes another point of debate later on, when they can’t remember who suggested it and who agreed first, but in the end it doesn’t really matter much. They’re out in the early morning and they have a mission to accomplish. Minho’s never been one to back down and Taemin’s a firecracker in his own right, so when they’ve made up their minds, that’s it.
The wind whips at their faces and Minho’s sure he’s going to look like a complete mess by the time they get to the pier, much less when he returns home that night. It’s the windiest it’s ever been while he’s been here, the cold spray from the ocean bites at his cheeks and Minho swears he can see his breath. It’s amazing how grey everything looks - the sky, the water, the air in front of them. The sand even seems grey-tinged in the fog-coated light. It’s such a contrast to all the color that happens during the day - that’ll happen later if the fog ever decides to clear.
Gone is the bright blue sky and the golden sand, the deep blue ocean, the rocks, the grass, the clouds. All of it is grey. But Taemin beside him is the one shining beacon of color, a pop of life in the hazy surroundings. He is gold hair and tan skin, blue jacket on a white shirt and grey shorts. It’s almost shocking how bright he is, how much of a contrast he makes to everything around him, and Minho keeps stealing glances.
For his effort, Taemin never notices. He’s quiet for once, the headphones around his neck quietly blaring something that Minho can’t quite make out. It’s fine like this though. He can’t exactly say the weather’s nice, not when it’s like this and his nose is making subtle threats of breaking off, but there’s something about the two of them making this trek all the way out to the pier that feels like it will be worth it anyway.
Maybe.
(Hopefully.)
It’s miles away and Minho knows it’s going to take them a while, but he’s okay with that for right now.
The sun is making feeble (failing) attempts to break through the fog by the time they finally get to the pier. Predictably, there aren’t many people around and Minho has to wonder if the trip was really worth it until Taemin drags him to the cookie shop. Well, it’s warm inside and a few cookies never hurt anyone. (And if Taemin charms the shopkeepers into giving him an extra sample, well, who is Minho to blame them really?)
They stop by the candy shop too, just for good measure.
They’re at a standstill on what to do next when the sky gives a worrying rumble and, completely without regard for anyone or anything, begins to pour rain. Hot rain. Big, fat drops of rain that hit with an impact and pound on Minho’s head as he pushes Taemin across the street to get under an overhang. Around them, the other people milling about are similarly spurred into action and Minho, soaking wet already, turns to look at the boy next to him.
Taemin’s bangs drip water into his face and he shoves Minho when he laughs.
Deciding to at least try to be as dry as he possibly can, Minho abandons his soggy jacket and wrings it out, Taemin following suit. Seeing as how they still need to make their way all the way back to their houses, they enter a corner store (more of a surf shop, really, but they’ll take what they can get) in search of an umbrella. It takes ten minutes and help from one of the people behind the register before they’re able to locate a single flimsy black one, but it’s better than nothing.
The rain is still absolutely pouring when they exit the shop but they would have been silly to expect anything else. Taemin’s arm is warm against Minho’s cold back as they hurry down the street, laughing and making fools of themselves as they try not to slip in their wet shoes, pressed together underneath the umbrella.
Halfway back, the rain slows and finally stops, but the damage is done. Minho is shivering in his tank top, his jacket still damp and cold, and Taemin is in a similar state. But then Taemin’s teasing him, hurling himself forward when Minho goes to tickle him, sprinting away with his laughter trailing behind him. Minho folds down the umbrella and goes chasing after them and there’s no way they can keep this up all the way home but Taemin may be determined to try - Minho’s just got to catch him first. The wind is whipping past him and it’s freezing but Minho can’t think of anything but grabbing onto Taemin’s hand and running next to him.
Taemin’s completely wrong - it rained. (But, to be fair, Minho doesn’t think he minds it in the slightest.)
-
His parents have noticed how he’s out for most of the day, Minseok keeps asking after Taemin with a knowing smirk that drives Minho crazy - even Taemin’s mom has started to act as if him and Taemin being together is fact rather than choice. It’s not like Minho is bothered by it. The two of them became friends quickly and Minho’s not shy about the fact that he’d rather be out with Taemin on the rocks or getting knocked over by the surf or going into town to search through weird antique stores than lying around at the house wasting his summer. Taemin, too, finally has something new and different to do for the summer and Minho’s not going to let that slip away if he can help it.
The problem is just the way everyone’s acting about it, as if they know some sort of secret that Minho’s not privy to, like he’s not allowed in on whatever those silly little smiles mean, or why everyone’s voices seem to go saccharine when they say goodbye to the two of them. He figures he probably shouldn’t worry about it too much, but he can’t shake off the feeling that he’s missing something. (And it feels like something important.)
Taemin’s waiting for him at the secret spot, lunch all wrapped up in the bundle of his towel like some sort of vagrant traveler. Minho’s got his own food stored inside a bucket and he might have gotten a few weird looks walking down the beach, but he’s not really bothered. He’s here now anyway. Taemin hops up when he sees Minho and they walk further down the shoreline, stopping only to play with a wet dog that seems to have taken a liking to Taemin. By the time it runs off, Taemin’s started up another story about the summer they had so many jellyfish - I mean, really, Minho. You wouldn’t have believed it, there were so many.
They’re not to the pier yet (maybe they never had any intention of going at all) but they pick a spot in the sand and sit down, Taemin’s towel becoming their blanket. Minho can see himself reflected in Taemin’s sunglasses, can see his smile and the way the wind and the sea spray has made his hair all curly. When Taemin kicks off his shoes and his feet rest in the sand beside Minho’s, it’s with a start that Minho realizes his skin is as tough as Taemin’s, his feet worn and sand-smoothed just like the other boy’s. Weeks ago when he’d first arrived, the rocks and sand and water had attacked his poor, untouched feet, too used to a life stuffed in shoes - a true vacationer. But now their feet rest next to each other’s and it’s almost as if Minho had lived his whole life here, right with Taemin.
The thought makes him smile and when Taemin asks what’s so funny, Minho just takes a bite of his sandwich and shakes his head.
-
The antique shops are probably Minho’s favorite part of going into town. His parents like the art galleries, and Minseok tends to stay around the surf shops, but Minho - he likes the odds and ends he can find in the dusty old shops. He’d only gotten a peek of them when they first got into town but when Taemin grouses about what to do one day, Minho steals his chance.
He convinces his parents to drive them all into town and his dad plays old music while his mom sings along. Taemin is squished into the backseat in-between Minho and Minseok and is being subjected to sly taunts from Minseok. Minho tries to steadily ignore his brother, taking Taemin’s attention away with the lure of his phone; it’s easy enough to let everything else fade into the background when Taemin’s knee is solidly pressed against his own.
They all split off on their own almost immediately, Taemin dragging Minho to his favorite antique shop a ways down the road and around the corner. A large stuffed bear outside the door greets them and Minho high fives its raised paw as they walk into the shop. The store is brighter than the ones in the town over but more labyrinthine he soon finds out, as they wind through different rows and room. Minho quickly becomes lost but it doesn’t really matter because Taemin seems to know exactly where he’s going.
“Hey,” Minho says turning around. “What do you think about this?”
When Taemin turns around, he lifts the stuffed duck lamp for the other boy to see. Taemin sets a jar of old buttons down on the shelf and inches forward, eyes wide.
“Woah,” he breathes, blinking rapidly. He looks up at Minho, mouth still slightly open. “This is hideous.”
Minho’s laugh is inappropriately loud and he ducks behind a shelf of typewriters to hide as he tries to catch his breath.
An old teddy bear sticks its head around the corner, far too close to Minho’s face. He can smell the dust on it, that old, musty smell of something sitting stagnant in a room for too long. With a grimace he pulls back, only for the bear to come closer.
“What’s wrong, Minho?” asks a squeaky voice, the bear jiggling in time.
“Ugh, Taemin.” Minho bats at the bear with a laugh but it comes closer again.
“Love me, Minho. Love meeee.”
The bear is thrust closer and for one frightening moment Minho thinks it will come into contact with his face. He shuffles back, losing his balance and nearly upending a small table of glassware.
“Be careful, Minho!” The bear squeaks.
“Yeah,” Taemin says, stepping into view and holding a hand out. “If you break something you’ll have to pay for it.”
He tries to keep his face neutrally pleasant but Minho catches the smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. Grabbing Taemin’s hand, Minho hoists himself up and pulls Taemin into a headlock.
They stop into another antique store a few shops down before meeting back up with the rest of Minho’s family. He’s laden down with a bag of purchases - an old soccer jersey that he bought for himself and a pair of glass salt and pepper shakers in the shape of elephants that Taemin (somehow) managed to convince him to buy. Minho shakes his head, trying to dispel Taemin’s ridiculous puppy eyes and teasing voice, but there’s a smile on his face anyway.
No matter, though, he thinks. He goaded Taemin into buying an old leather wallet and it hadn’t even been all that hard.
When Taemin sleeps over that night - for no reason other than to play scary videos games - he convinces Minho to sleep out on the day bed with him instead of going back to his room and leaving Taemin alone.
“I’m not scared,” he’d insisted. “But you might be.”
The challenging leer he’d given Minho had been enough to convince him. Taemin takes the bottom roll out bed - “because you’re smaller,” Minho says, raising an eyebrow - and Minho takes the main bed that gives terrible, squeaky creaking noises with the slightest movement. And despite the lack of privacy in the open room, they talk well into the night, quiet whispers drifting up and down between them.
In the morning, Minho wakes up to the bustle of his parents in the living room. When Taemin wakes up not long after, he shuffles into the kitchen, wrapped in a blanket that tangles around his legs, making him waddle around the room after Minho, all messy haired and bleary eyed, squinting as Minho makes coffee for him.
-
The only time Minho ever has trouble falling asleep is when it’s really hot. One time, way back when he was in middle school there was a night where he was struck with terrible insomnia: the air conditioner had broken right at the peak of summer and young Minho, exhausted and frustrated, had been unable to fall asleep for almost two days. It had never been that bad since - he always kept a fan in his room after that. Just in case - but occasionally the temperature would rise too high and he’d be left lying in his bed, sweaty and unable to fall asleep.
It had only ever been because of the heat.
But tonight was not particularly hot, in fact, it was actually quite chilly. Minho was bundled up under his covers, hood up over his head, and by all accounts he should be sound asleep like his brother is. Minho looks over to the bed across from his and scowls, sticking his tongue out childishly because it’s dark and he’s been trying to sleep for two hours.
He pulls out his phone and scrolls endlessly, watches a few videos until the light starts getting to his head, sleep pounding at his brain. But that’s the problem isn’t it? There’s something niggling at the back of his mind, prodding at him to try and get him to notice but he just cannot figure out what it is. It’s like leaving the house and feeling like he’s forgotten something only to reach into his pocket hours later and find he’s left his wallet behind. Minho rubs his head angrily against the pillow in spite.
For some reason, though, Minho’s thoughts always seem to circle back to Taemin. The idea makes his insides squirm in embarrassment, but logically he knows it must be because he and Taemin have been spending all their time together. It must be. Obviously. Even so, the boy’s blond hair, his smile, the way he laughs with his face all screwed up and his head thrown back, how he held out his hand to help pull Minho up the steep rocks - it all swirls in Minho’s head like some sort of art project gone wrong.
And even though it’s cool in the room, he feels like he’s overheating, shaking so hard inside that there’s sparks flying around his ribcage trying to catch fire like his heart is kindling. He could kick off his covers but that’s not the problem, not really. So, instead he stares at the ceiling and watches the shadows morph into a giant blob as he thinks about beach. If he tries hard enough, he can almost imagine the sound of the waves, he can almost hear it. Almost.
But almost isn’t good enough. With a quick glance at his brother, still sleeping, Minho unlatches the window and opens it. Cool wind floats in and hits Minho’s face and he lets out a relieved sigh. He lies back down, finally relaxing. The window’s barely open; just a crack, just enough that can hear the waves crash and the wind blow.
Somehow, it sounds like Taemin’s voice.
-
(Minseok yells at him in the morning for having opened the window, but Minho’s never slept so well.)
-
The seagulls wake him up, loud and squawking and entirely unpleasant to his sleep clogged ears. A little yappy dog's barking starts up and joins the cacophony ringing dully through the room. Minho buries his head under his pillow with a pitiful groan.
When it becomes apparent that the noise isn’t going to just go away no matter how much he wishes, pleads, and prays, Minho’s arms relinquish their position of protecting his ears and they flop onto the bedcovers with a resounding thump. He lies there weakly, mind slogging around until it picks up on a little whispered thread of Taemin and slams into a whirring, stuttering overdrive. Minho runs his fingertips over the blankets as he resigns and allows his heart to thud happily in his chest, Taemin’s smile flitting through his thoughts.
The hems of his sweatpants are hooked over the bottom of his feet as he shuffles into the kitchen, the floor a cold shock from the carpet in the hallway.
Taemin stops by not long after Minho’s gotten dressed and immediately pulls him out the door.
“Where are we going?” he asks, amused.
Taemin looks back at him like he’s stupid. “My house.” The unspoken duh is implicit.
They waste no time in circling around Taemin’s house to the backyard and ascending the ladder propped up against the side of the house. It’s not until they’ve settled themselves onto a flat strip of the roof that Minho realizes he has no idea what they’re actually doing.
As if reading his mind, Taemin pulls up a small bag from near him. He must have brought them up earlier because Minho can’t remember him having them before, but he has no time to wonder because when Taemin pulls out a pair of binoculars more questions race through his head.
“Tada!”
Minho gives him a confused smile. “What are we doing exactly?”
“Whale watching,” Taemin says as he settles himself more comfortable against the roof.
And though they’d often spotted animals on the fly, it hadn’t occurred to Minho that they might actually proactively look for them.
“Oh. Yeah.” Minho copies him, back resting against a sloped part of the roof. “Of course.”
Taemin takes the first watch, telling Minho about all of the animals that pass through this part of the ocean in the summer. And when Minho takes the binoculars, resting his elbows against his knees, Taemin talks about how much he hates having to share a room with his brother when any of his relatives come to visit.
“He snores and talks in his sleep,” Taemin says, flopping on his stomach. His face is creased in a frown as he rolls dirt clods off the edge of roofing.
Minho’s about to nod in solidarity when he catches something out of the edge of the binoculars. He makes a small noise that has Taemin sitting up, excitedly asking “what? What? Did you see something?”
“Hold on,” Minho murmurs, scanning the horizon more diligently now.
And there it is - the water glinting off of a dark back.
“Whale!” He says triumphantly, scanning again to see if he can find one.
He and Taemin trade the binoculars back and forth until Taemin spots a splash that even Minho, without any aid, can see from their spot.
“I think it’s a baby,” Taemin says, passing the binoculars back so Minho can see. “It’s tail was coming out of the water.”
Minho finds the whale, still splashing around and makes an appropriately awed sound when -
“Oh wow,” Taemin breathes. Minho can only agree.
The whale starts slapping its tail against the surface of the water, spinning in a circle as it moves. Minho lowers the binoculars and turns to find Taemin already looking at him, excitement clearly radiating from him. They can hear the sound from where they’re sitting and Minho feels a sense of wonder rush through him.
-
The sky is tinted pink and purple as the waves darken in front of them. Minho lounges back against the log in the secret spot - their secret spot now - stretching back until he’s laid out fully, one leg pulled up, the other dangling lazily, hands cushioned behind his head. With his eyes closed, he listens to the waves lapping and crashing, children laughing to one side, a dog barking happily off to the other. In front of him, Taemin leans against a branch on the log, eyes trained on the ocean. Like always, Minho thinks, a slow smile forming on his lips.
The tide is rising, already had been by the time they arrived, and it won’t be long before they’ll have to head back or risk getting their feet wet. But Minho’s too content to move and the sun hasn’t finished setting yet so he thinks they have time. And, knowing Taemin, even if they don’t, he’ll make time.
Minho’s mind drifts as they exist in silence, just taking in the sound of the waves. He thinks back to yesterday when his ice cream had melted all over his hands, and to last month when Taemin thought he’d seen a snake near the cliff, and to a few weeks ago when they’d gone to feed the ducks.
Their bag had been nearly emptied when they’d heard, “Hey! What are you kids doing?”
And Taemin’s hand had wrapped around Minho’s wrist and he’d pulled him, the two of them stumbling off the little wooden dock and back down to the dirt path, sprinting through the streets in the fading light as Taemin’s laughter had rung out in front of him, clear as a bell.
The memory elicits a smile from Minho and he cracks his eyes open, looking at Taemin. The other boy hasn’t moved and he doesn’t notice as Minho continues to watch him, mind trying to piece everything together. The summer has felt like a whirlwind and he’s not ready to let it go yet, still itching for something.
Taemin smells like ocean sunshine, bottled up in a bright, blond haired boy; his sun faded hair glints in the light and the sound of his laughter floats like a melody on the wind.
He thinks he might love Taemin like he loves the ocean, like Taemin loves the ocean. Because in the time they’ve spent together, the two have become almost synonymous in Minho’s mind and while it should scare him, mostly it just makes him feel a little fluttery. Minho thinks back to the city he grew up in, fast and loud and rising up on all sides, and looks out to the ocean that Taemin was born from. He really wants to hold Taemin's hand.
It’s just one summer and he wants to take a chance.
“Hey,” he says softly, sitting up and scooting closer.
Taemin hums, eyes still on the water.
“What’s going to happen when I leave?”
And even though his voice is still quiet, Taemin hears him loud and clear, turning around at last to look at Minho. His hand is right next to Minho’s and Minho can hardly stand it.
“What do you mean?”
“Well…”
Minho scratches his head and looks down. This is the hard part. This is the part that he hadn’t really thought through properly and he’s here already without really realizing it. The thing is, Taemin’s going to be the one holding all the power (and maybe he had it all along, Minho wouldn’t really doubt it) and Minho doesn’t really want to spend the time thinking of all the what ifs and could bes anymore.
“I’m going to be leaving,” he says finally, looking up. “So what’s going to happen with us?”
His fingers bridge the gap, inching forward to twist into Taemin’s and hold on.
The implications of it all is screaming in Minho’s face, the intention obvious. It’s not a question of will you keep in touch or will you miss me? Because I’ll miss hanging out with you every day even though we do the same damn thing every time, but it’s fun because it’s with you. He doesn’t want to lose Taemin’s friendship, but suddenly the decision isn’t in his hands anymore; the ball is in Taemin’s court and he regards Minho calmly, his hair shifting in the breeze.
“Well,” Taemin says, looking away for a moment. “Whatever it is, I hope you won’t forget about me because I really like you and that would be a total bummer.”
He looks back at Minho, his mouth twisted in an embarrassed smile that doesn’t hide the light in his eyes. His fingers slip properly into place with Minho’s, their palms pressed together.
Oh, Minho thinks as everything slots into place and "oh," he breathes as his fingers tighten around Taemin's.
Minho laughs, the sound trickling happily from his mouth as he looks up at Taemin.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
I can definitely do that.
-
Taemin is there, of course he is, when Minho’s dad loads the last suitcase into the trunk of the car. The two of them are standing off to the side, waiting for Minho’s mom and Minseok to complete their inspection of the house to make sure they won’t leave anything behind.
“So,” Taemin says, rocking on his feet, hands curled loosely in the hem of his shirt and tucked under the fabric.
“So,” Minho agrees.
Taemin tilts his head back a little, looking up at Minho. “I figure it’s about time you ask me for my number.”
And Minho laughs, shoving Taemin and knocking him off balance.
“Hey! Be nice or I won’t give it to you!” Taemin threatens above Minho’s laughter.
“Okay, okay,” he acquiesces and then clears his throat as he stands a little straighter. “Taemin,” he says in a grave voice. “Will you give me your number?”
Taemin snorts at him but motions for Minho to hand him his phone. They swap back after and, completely unnecessarily, a streak of giddiness flares through Minho when he sees Taemin’s name on his screen.
Minho’s mom and Minseok come back outside and the house is locked up for the last time. All at once, Minho is swept up in sentimentality and he hugs Taemin tightly, only slightly embarrassed that his family might be watching. But Taemin’s arms come up strong around his waist and Minho forgets all about it, breathing Taemin in one more time.
When they pull back, Taemin asks, eyes shining brightly, “are you coming back next summer?”
Minho laughs, throwing an arm around Taemin’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “We’re coming back next year.”
“Good,” Taemin says decisively.
And then, from the car, Minseok crows at them, “you gonna kiss now?”
Minho shouts at his brother, grumbling under his breath as Taemin laughs. Throwing caution to the wind, Minho leans in and swiftly kisses Taemin’s cheek and he’s rewarded with that mischievous smile of Taemin’s that he’s grown so used to.
When Minho’s family has piled into the car and they’re pulling out of the driveway, Minho turns around to wave at Taemin one more time. Taemin, off on the side of the road, raises his hand and waves back. Then, he’s curling his other hand into a fist and holding it up next to his ear, mouthing call me to Minho with an impish smile.
Minho laughs. He can’t wait until next summer.
Return to Part One