As far as they could tell – 2min one-shot; fluff; pg-13; 1036 words

A/N: lol don't read if you don't like fluff because this is probably the fluffiest fic I've made out of all my fluffy fics. shameless, i know. also, this was written a few months ago, but i just decided to post this because well... just because.

^^;;

As far as Minho could tell, Taemin is the one for him.

He has to be. He has to be from the way Minho looks at the younger boy, and the way the dancer’s eyes always linger on him the longest. He has to be from the way Minho feels a sort of fuzzy feeling inside his chest whenever he watches Taemin dance, the younger boy’s movements so fluid and precise and natural, as if there was nothing more obvious in the world except that Taemin was made to dance and dance was made for Taemin. He has to be from the way Minho feels like going crazy whenever Taemin nuzzles his nose against his neck, the maknae’s thin and bony arms wrapped around Minho’s toned shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into the older boy’s ear, his soft and raspy breath tickling the corners of Minho’s earlobes. He has to be from the way Minho feels a little faint whenever Taemin’s jeans are a little bit too ill-fitting and ripped at the seams, revealing slices of smooth, milky white flesh, and all Minho wants to do at the moment is ravish the younger boy’s body. He has to be from the way Minho shoots sideway glances at the other boy whenever he’s with their noonas and hyungdeul, playing around and just having fun, although he knows that it bothers Taemin so he makes it a point to grab the younger boy’s butt afterwards, not caring about the cameras displayed all around them. He has to be because whenever Taemin snuggles beside him, he is reminded of old, familiar clothes and warm mugs of coffee. He has to be because his whole world revolves around the younger boy’s axis.

As far as Taemin could tell, Minho is the one for him.

He has to be. He has to be from the way Minho looks at him with those big, brown eyes, like orbs of chocolate seething right into his soul. He has to be from the way his heart flutters in the most unusual way whenever he feels Minho watching him dance, his body moving along with the beat and the rhythm of the music, his heart and mind racing with him. He has to be from the way Taemin feels right at home sitting on Minho’s lap, his arms around Minho’s shoulders, his lips murmuring I love you’s and This feels so nice. He has to be from the way he knows that Minho is watching the contours of his legs, the fit of the skinny jeans too tight for comfort, the rips and shreds of clothing showing off porcelain skin, and for just a moment, he sees Minho gulp and try to regain self-control, and Taemin smirks in spite of himself. He has to be from the way Taemin’s insides turn prickly and his mouth sets in a straight line whenever he sees Minho interacting with their pretty noonas and hyungdeul, jealousy splayed all over his feminine features, looking far from the cute and innocent little maknae image he projects on-screen (although Minho senses his resentment and redeems himself by grabbing Taemin’s butt. The little devil, Taemin thinks, look at all the cameras!]. He has to be because whenever Taemin’s nestled against Minho’s arms, he is reminded of home, of the scent of pine during on a cold winter morning, of the happy and carefree days of childhood, of all thoughts naïve and innocent. He has to be because whenever he’s around Minho, he is hopeful for a promise of forever.

And as far as the two boys could tell, Taemin is the one for Minho and Minho is the one for Taemin.

They have to be. They have to be from the way they act around each other differently as to the way they act around others. They have to be from the brushing of their fingertips before performances, from the supportive pats on the back, from the silent good luck’s mouthed by the eyes. They have to be from the way Key stares at them warily from his seat on the table whenever Minho tries to feed Taemin dinner, the latter proposing he’s too full to eat anything, with the older boy ignoring the maknae’s previous statement, claiming that Taemin needs some meat on his bones. They have to be from the way they look into each other’s eyes, Minho’s hesitant and worried chocolate-brown orbs inquiring Are you ready?, while Taemin’s brown- black crescents are boldly saying with a slight quiver Yes, I am. I’m ready.

They have to be from the way they moan into each other’s mouths in the dead of the night, hips thrusting against each other languidly in the most wanton way, their body warmth mingling together and breaths sighing each other’s names in undertones. They have to be from the way their bodies are intertwined and tangled up in a hot mess that they don’t know which one ends or which leg is whose because like puzzle pieces, the curves and contours of their bodies fit together comfortably that they have become one under the sheets. They have to be because in the morning, they feel sore and tired but Taemin is snoring lightly and peacefully on Minho’s bare chest, while the older boy looks down fondly at the other sleeping and exhaling against his heart, right where Taemin truly belonged. They have to be from the way Minho pushes away stray platinum blonde strands of hair from Taemin’s angelic and delicate face, the light and blithe touches waking the maknae, but Taemin’s smiling that bright and megawatt smile at the boy he’s just made love with for the first time. They have to be because Minho thinks that Taemin’s strawberry-scented shampoo smells absolutely amazing and Taemin thinks that Minho’s heartbeats sound absolutely wonderful. They have to be because on that morning with cloudy skies and an air that was filled with the smell of it-might-rain-later, the same morning after they just made love to each other, a promise of forever was made through chaste kisses on the forehead, warm breaths on the neck, and three little words uttered in hushed tones under the covers.

They have to be.

fin.