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The cabin was warm and inviting, the scent of pine and cinnamon weaving through the air. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily, blanketing the ground in a thick, pristine layer. Inside, four voices overlapped in bursts of chatter and laughter, interspersed with the occasional groan of protest when Kibum’s sharp tongue struck its target.
Kibum stood at the kitchen counter, slicing oranges with practiced precision. His movements were sharp, almost aggressive, as if taking out some internal frustration on the fruit. He wasn’t sure why, but something about tonight already felt off-balance. Maybe it was the way Minho had casually mentioned bringing his girlfriend along, like it was no big deal. Like it wouldn’t matter. But it did.
“Bummie, you’re slicing those oranges like they insulted your whole family,” Jonghyun teased from his perch on the arm of the sofa. His eyes flicked to Taemin, who smirked over the rim of his hot cocoa, clearly amused.
Kibum didn’t look up. “If you’re so concerned, maybe you should get off your butt and help instead of flirting with the maknae.”
Jonghyun’s cheeks flushed, but before he could fire back, Jinki appeared at Kibum’s side, deftly stealing a segment of orange. “It’s Christmas,” he said lightly. “Can we aim for one meal without bloodshed?”
The door opened with a burst of cold air, and Kibum’s grip on the knife tightened instinctively.
“Not likely,” Taemin quipped. “Minho-hyung just walked in.”
Sure enough, Minho stepped through the front door, stomping the snow off his boots. His hair tousled from the snow, his cheeks pink from the cold. He looked irritatingly good, as always. He shook the cold from his hair, his girlfriend followed close behind. Her hands were full with a plate of cookies wrapped in festive cellophane. She smiled brightly, as if she belonged there. As if she fit into their little world.
“Merry Christmas!” she greeted brightly, holding the plate out like a peace offering.
“Ah, store-bought,” Kibum observed, his tone sugary sweet. “My favorite.”
Minho shot him a look, somewhere between exasperation and fondness, but before he could respond, Jinki stepped in again, his voice overly cheerful. “Cookies! Just what we needed. Thanks for bringing them.”
Jonghyun snorted into his sleeve, and Taemin elbowed him, whispering something Kibum couldn’t quite catch. Probably a joke at his expense. Not that he cared. He had more important things to focus on—like not letting his irritation show.
Still, the thought gnawed at him. Why did Minho have to bring her? And why did it bother him so much? He had no right to be upset. Minho wasn’t his, and he never would be.
He sliced the next orange with a little more force than necessary, silently cursing himself for caring at all.
The kitchen was alive agaín with movement and noise, every surface covered with bowls, cutting boards, and half-prepped ingredients. The air smelled of garlic and rosemary, mingling with the faint sweetness of something baking in the oven. Kibum stood at the stove, stirring a pot of sauce with a practiced hand, barking orders over his shoulder like a seasoned general.
“Taemin, if you chop those any smaller, they’ll be dust.”
Taemin looked up from the cutting board, pouting. “I’m trying, hyung!”
Jinki was at the sink, diligently washing vegetables. “Should I start on the salad, or do you want to keep micro-managing us?” he teased, earning a snort from Jonghyun, who was sneaking a bite of the bread rolls cooling on the counter.
“Yah, get your hands off those!” Kibum turned just in time to swat Jonghyun’s hand away with a wooden spoon.
“You’re scary in the kitchen,” Jonghyun said, grinning as he dodged Kibum’s next swing.
“Only because none of you listen,” Kibum muttered, but there was a fondness in his voice that softened the words.
He paused for a moment, letting the warmth of the scene sink in. This—this chaotic mess, with everyone laughing and bickering and working together—felt like home. This was his family. His real family. Kibum’s chest tightened with a mix of pride and contentment as he turned back to the stove.
“Smells amazing,” Minho said, entering the kitchen with his usual energy. His voice was like a trigger—Kibum’s heart skipped, though he kept his expression neutral.
“Of course it does,” Kibum replied without missing a beat. “I’m the one cooking.”
Minho laughed, shaking his head as he walked to the counter. Before he could say more, the front door opened, and a cheery voice called out, “Wow, it smells so good in here!”
Kibum’s hand froze on the spoon.
Minho’s girlfriend walked in, wearing an easy smile that seemed out of place in the bustling kitchen, her gaze sweeping the room. “Minho told me you were an amazing cook,” she added, directing the comment at Kibum.
“Did he?” Kibum said lightly, his tone hard to read.
She nodded, oblivious to the subtle shift in the room’s energy. Kibum turned back to his sauce, stirring it with more force than necessary. The moment was gone now, the warmth replaced by a knot of unease in his stomach.
The others exchanged glances but didn’t say anything, resuming their tasks with a little less enthusiasm. Kibum didn’t look up, but he could feel Minho’s eyes on him, could hear the low murmur of his voice as he spoke to her.
Forcing a smile, Kibum turned off the stove. “Alright,” he announced, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get everything on the table.”
The table was a feast of colors and aromas. Platters of roast chicken, golden-brown and glistening, sat alongside bowls of vibrant salads, buttery rolls, and roasted vegetables seasoned to perfection. Kibum had outdone himself, and even he allowed a small moment of pride as everyone gathered around the table.
“Wow,” Taemin said, wide-eyed as he looked over the spread. “Kibum-hyung, you really went all out.”
“As always,” Jonghyun added, reaching for a roll before Kibum swatted his hand away.
“Wait until everyone sits down, you barbarian,” Kibum said, shaking his head.
Minho’s girlfriend laughed softly, taking a seat beside him. “It’s amazing, Kibum. You didn’t have to do so much.”
“I didn’t,” Kibum replied, his tone clipped. “Everyone helped.”
The subtle edge in his voice wasn’t lost on the others, though they pretended not to notice. Jinki quickly poured glasses of wine, raising his own with a bright smile. “A toast to Kibum, our culinary genius.”
“To Kibum!” Taemin echoed, grinning as they all raised their glasses.
“Yeah, yeah,” Kibum said, but there was a faint flush to his cheeks as he took a sip.
As the meal began, the room filled with laughter and conversation. Taemin told a story about his disastrous attempt at decorating a gingerbread house, complete with exaggerated hand gestures that sent Jonghyun into a fit of laughter. Jinki shared a surprisingly witty joke that left the table groaning, and Minho and his girlfriend chatted quietly, her laugh occasionally ringing out like a bell.
Kibum watched them from the corner of his eye, his stomach twisting every time she leaned closer to Minho. It wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be their time, their family. She didn’t belong here.
“Hyung, this chicken is insane,” Jonghyun said, breaking through Kibum’s thoughts. “What did you put in it?”
“Nothing special,” Kibum replied, forcing a smile. “Just a lot of talent.”
Taemin snickered, and Minho chuckled softly. “You mean a lot of bossing us around in the kitchen,” Minho teased.
“Worked, didn’t it?” Kibum shot back, his tone sharper than intended.
Minho’s smile faltered, his brow furrowing slightly. “What’s with you tonight?”
The question hung in the air for a beat too long, tension rippling through the table.
“Nothing,” Kibum said quickly, stabbing at his salad. “Just tired, I guess.”
“So,” Jonghyun started, leaning back in his chair as he stabbed at a piece of roasted sweet potato, “what’s everyone’s New Year’s resolution? Taemin, let me guess—actually wake up before noon?”
Taemin stuck his tongue out, earning a chuckle from everyone. “And yours is to stop trying to sing in keys you can’t hit?”
“Wow, this is the gratitude I get for putting up with you all these years?” Jonghyun shot back, feigning hurt.
Jinki shook his head fondly as he refilled Taemin’s glass. “Let’s keep it civil, kids.”
“Civil’s boring,” Kibum muttered, twirling his fork in his pasta. His eyes darted toward Minho, who was cutting his chicken with precision, his girlfriend chatting animatedly at his side. Her laugh was light and melodic, but it grated on Kibum’s nerves for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“And you, Kibum?” Minho’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What’s your resolution?”
Kibum glanced up, his lips curving into a smirk. “To be less annoyed by stupid questions.”
Jonghyun snorted, nearly choking on his wine, while Taemin buried his face in his hands, shaking with silent laughter. Minho, however, didn’t laugh. He set his knife down carefully, his gaze steady as he looked at Kibum.
“Must be hard for you,” Minho said evenly. “Considering how often you’re annoyed.”
Kibum’s smirk faltered for a split second before he recovered. “It’s a talent, really.”
The tension crackled between them, sharp and electric. Jinki, sensing the shift, jumped in. “The chicken’s great, isn’t it? I think it’s Bum’s best one yet.”
“It’s good,” Minho’s girlfriend chimed in, oblivious to the undercurrent. “Did you use rosemary?”
“Of course,” Kibum said, smiling. “It’s all about the fresh herbs.”
Kibum stabbed a piece of chicken a little too forcefully, ignoring the way Minho’s gaze lingered on him. Across the table, Jonghyun was watching the exchange with a knowing glint in his eye, but he wisely said nothing.
As the meal went on, Kibum found himself oscillating between sharp remarks and forced politeness, his mood souring every time Minho’s girlfriend leaned in closer or laughed at something Minho said. The others noticed too—Taemin kicking Jonghyun under the table when Kibum’s tone got too biting, Jinki stepping in to redirect the conversation whenever the air grew too tense.
Minho, for his part, seemed increasingly frustrated. His usual calm was giving way to something more volatile, his responses clipped, his smile strained. But despite the tension—or maybe because of it—there was an undeniable pull between them. Every time their eyes met, the air seemed to thrum with unspoken words, emotions too tangled to name.
Despite everything—the laughter, the wine, the clinking of glasses—something unspoken hung between them, heavy and unyielding.
The dinner table was a mess of half-empty plates and scattered crumbs, the remnants of a meal shared with too much laughter and a little too much wine. Taemin was leaning back in his chair, his head lolling lazily to one side as Jonghyun teased him about drinking more than his share. Jinki was already clearing dishes, humming a Christmas tune under his breath.
“Alright,” Kibum said, clapping his hands sharply. “If we’re done stuffing our faces, it’s game time.”
“What kind of game?” Minho asked, his deep voice cutting through the buzz of conversation. His girlfriend smiled at his enthusiasm, resting a hand lightly on his arm. Kibum’s eyes flicked to the touch, and his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Something simple,” Kibum replied, his tone breezy but edged with something sharper. “We don’t want anyone getting too competitive, right?” He raised an eyebrow at Minho, who met his gaze with a faint smirk.
“Sounds like you’re scared to lose,” Minho countered.
“Oh, please,” Kibum shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If anyone’s going to lose, it’s you. And not just in the game.”
The room went quiet for a beat, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Jinki cleared his throat, stepping in with the ease of someone used to diffusing these moments. “Let’s play charades,” he said, smiling brightly. “That’s always fun.”
The suggestion worked, and soon they were gathered in a circle, laughing at Taemin’s terrible acting and Jonghyun’s overly dramatic guesses. Kibum played along, his sharp wit and exaggerated gestures earning the loudest laughs, but his attention kept drifting to Minho.
Minho was good at this game, his natural competitiveness shining through as he guessed clue after clue. His girlfriend laughed along with him, her arm occasionally brushing his, and Kibum felt a pang of something hot and bitter twist in his chest.
When it was Minho’s turn to act, Kibum couldn’t resist a dig. “Careful,” he said, smirking. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to show off.”
Minho paused mid-motion, his jaw tightening as he looked at Kibum. “What’s your problem tonight?”
The question hung in the air, cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere. Everyone froze, their eyes darting between the two of them. Kibum’s heart raced, but he shrugged, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“No problem,” he said lightly. “Just trying to keep things interesting.”
Minho’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he shook his head and went back to acting out his clue. But the tension didn’t fade, and Kibum could feel the weight of Minho’s confusion and frustration pressing down on him.
Still, even in the chaos, there was a charge between them—a connection that neither of them could ignore, no matter how hard they tried.
The game was over, and the air in the room had shifted—calmer now, but only in the sense that everyone had slipped into a more mellow state, the laughter fading into quiet chatter. The wine had flowed freely, and with each glass, the edges of the night seemed to blur, but not enough to numb the ache in Kibum’s chest.
Minho and his girlfriend were sitting together on the couch, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder, laughing softly at something he said. Kibum couldn’t tear his eyes away from them, his grip tightening around his glass of wine, the dark liquid swirling with the motion. Every glance, every touch between them felt like a knife twisting deeper into him.
How had it come to this?
He had never once considered that Minho might end up with someone else, let alone someone who could so easily slip into their dynamic, so easily claim the space Kibum had always held. A low simmer of anger rose in his chest, but he tried to drown it out with another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving them.
“Hey,” Jonghyun’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Kibum glanced up to see the older man standing beside him, his expression unreadable. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Kibum muttered, trying to force a smile. It didn’t quite work.
Jonghyun raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting towards Minho and his girlfriend on the couch. “You sure about that?”
Kibum’s jaw clenched. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re pissed off,” Jonghyun said bluntly, sitting down next to him, eyes never leaving him. “And I can’t blame you. But it’s your own damn fault, Kibum.”
Kibum froze. “What are you talking about?”
“You think you can keep pushing him away and expect him to just stay?” Jonghyun’s tone was sharper now, direct. “You’ve been doing it for years. Every time Minho tries to get closer to you, you shut him down. And now, he’s moved on.”
Kibum’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. His fingers tightened around his glass. “I never asked him to move on.”
“No, but you sure as hell didn’t stop him.” Jonghyun’s eyes were piercing, and the weight of his words settled heavily in the space between them. “You think he hasn’t noticed? That every time he tries to get close, you pull away? That every time he looks at you like that, you shut him down without a second thought? You’ve created this, Kibum. You’ve pushed him away so many times that he found someone else to turn to. And now you’re pissed that she’s here?”
Kibum’s chest tightened, the anger building in his throat. “You think this is my fault?” His voice was low, dangerously so. “You think I’m the one who’s to blame for this mess?”
Jonghyun didn’t flinch. “Yeah. I do. Because you’re a coward.”
Kibum’s breath hitched at the word, the sting of it sharper than anything else Jonghyun could’ve said. He set his glass down on the table, hands shaking, as the truth sunk in like a weight on his chest. He had been running from it—running from Minho, from the way his heart raced every time they were too close, from the undeniable chemistry they shared. He had been too afraid, too proud, to face it. Too terrified to admit what it really meant.
And now Minho had moved on. And it was his fault.
The words burned in his throat, the realization too much to bear.
“You’re right,” Kibum said through gritted teeth, his voice strained. “It’s my fault. All of it.”
Jonghyun’s expression softened slightly, but he didn’t look away. “Kibum…”
But Kibum couldn’t hear him anymore. The anger, the hurt, the regret—it was all too much. Without another word, he stood up, pacing across the room in an attempt to shake the overwhelming feeling that had settled over him. His mind was reeling.
Minho. He had pushed Minho away, and now it was too late. The idea of them together—of Minho with someone else—felt like a punch to the gut.
“You think I wanted this?” Kibum snapped, spinning around to face Jonghyun, his eyes blazing. “You think I wanted to see him with her? Laughing with her, touching her like she’s the only one who matters? No, Jonghyun. I didn’t want this. But what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn’t—”
He stopped himself, breathing heavily, unable to finish the sentence. The words were stuck in his throat, tangled with emotions he had never learned how to deal with.
Jonghyun was silent for a moment, watching him closely, before speaking softly. “You could have just told him. You could have stopped running. You could have fought for him.”
Kibum’s chest tightened as the weight of Jonghyun’s words settled in. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he turned away, storming towards the door, not caring about the looks the others were giving him as he moved. He needed to get out—away from all of it, away from the guilt, away from Minho.
Kibum stormed out of the cabin, his chest tight with the weight of everything he’d just realized. The alcohol in his system did nothing to dull the sharpness of his thoughts. He needed space, air, something to clear the heavy fog in his mind. Every step felt like a struggle, as though his feet were sinking deeper into the ground with each step.
His mind was a whirlwind, replaying Jonghyun’s words over and over.
You’ve pushed him away so many times, Kibum. You created this.
The words echoed in his head like a relentless drumbeat, too loud, too painful. How had he not seen it? How had he allowed it to go this far? He wanted to scream, to punch something, to make it stop hurting.
But no matter how much he tried to distract himself, his thoughts always found their way back to Minho. Minho, with his girlfriend, smiling, laughing, touching her like she was everything. And Kibum had nothing to show for it except the emptiness he’d carefully cultivated, keeping everyone—including Minho—at a distance.
The reality of it all crashed down, suffocating him in a way he couldn’t escape.
Suddenly, the door creaked open behind him, and he froze, recognizing the voice before he even turned around.
“Kibum.”
Minho’s voice was steady, but there was a trace of uncertainty under it. Kibum couldn’t face him—not now, not like this. He had too many feelings swimming beneath the surface, and he was terrified of what would happen if he allowed any of them to spill out.
“I—I need some air,” Kibum said, his voice shaking slightly. He didn’t turn around. The words tasted bitter, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.
Minho’s footsteps were closer now, and for a split second, Kibum felt his presence behind him like a weight pressing on his back. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. Minho didn’t try to stop him. Instead, he just let him go.
Kibum’s heart clenched as he walked toward the door. It felt like something inside of him was breaking apart, piece by piece.
The night stretched on, the warmth of the alcohol still lingering in the air, but Kibum felt cold, like an icicle lodged deep in his chest. His feet were restless as he walked through the cabin, his mind still racing from everything Jonghyun had said. The truth was too much to swallow, and every time his thoughts landed on Minho, they seemed to twist into something sharp, painful.
As he moved past the kitchen, his gaze flickered to the coffee table, where a small velvet box sat, barely noticeable amongst the chaos of empty bottles and half-drunk glasses.
Jonghyun’s voice caught his attention before he could think too much about it. “You know, I think Minho might have bought a ring for her.”
Kibum’s stomach dropped. A ring?
Jonghyun leaned forward, peering at the box. “I swear I saw him hide it earlier when he was in the other room. And the way he’s been acting tonight…” He let out a low whistle, eyes widening in realization. “This could be it. He’s planning to propose.”
The words hit Kibum like a punch to the gut, and before he could stop himself, he was walking over to the coffee table, his fingers hovering over the box. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden rush of panic that washed over him. Was it true? Did Minho really intend to propose to her?
“Are you really going to let him do this?” Jonghyun’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Kibum paused, turning to face the older man. “You’re letting him slip through your fingers, Kibum.”
Before Kibum could respond, Taemin wandered into the living room, his curious eyes darting between the two of them. His gaze landed on the box, and he tilted his head, looking at Kibum with a raised eyebrow.
“Why are you staring at that, hyung?” Taemin asked, his voice soft but with a knowing glint in his eye.
Kibum looked at him, his irritation bubbling up once again. “You little gremlin,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You know everything, don’t you?”
Taemin’s lips curled into a sly smile, though he didn’t say anything right away. He just crossed his arms, waiting for Kibum to elaborate.
“Don’t play coy with me, Taemin,” Kibum snapped, his tone sharp. “Tell me, is it true? Did Minho buy a ring for her? Is he planning to propose?”
Taemin shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I’m not saying anything, hyung,” he teased. “But you should probably ask him.”
Kibum’s hand gripped the edge of the coffee table, his knuckles white as the truth began to sink in. Minho, the one he’d kept at arm’s length for so long, was actually considering a future with someone else. He wasn’t sure why it hurt this much, but it did. It felt like a slow, burning realization that everything he had ignored was now coming to light in the worst possible way.
Jonghyun let out a frustrated sigh, crossing his arms. “What are you going to do, Kibum? You can’t just sit here and sulk. You’ve already pushed him so far, and now he’s moving on. What are you going to do about it?”
Kibum’s heart skipped a beat. The words hit harder than anything.
He’s trying to move on.
It wasn’t just a thought anymore; it was the painful truth.
“I...” Kibum stuttered, his mind clouded with confusion, anger, and regret. He didn’t know how to process it all.
Kibum turned away, shaking his head, his thoughts too jumbled to make sense of. The weight of Jonghyun’s words crushed him, and for the first time that night, he let his mask slip. His voice was quiet but thick with emotion when he spoke. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve ruined it. I always ruin it.”
“You haven’t ruined anything yet,” Jonghyun said gently. “But you need to make a decision, Kibum. Because if you don’t, he will. And it won’t be with you.”
The words hung in the air as Kibum stood there, staring at the box with the ring, the reality of everything crashing down around him. His mind raced, images of Minho’s laughter with his girlfriend flashing in front of him, but it was Minho’s voice that rang in his head now—
What’s your problem tonight?
He closed his eyes, trying to push the growing panic away. He knew Jonghyun was right. He’d pushed Minho away for so long, never once admitting what he really felt. And now Minho was moving forward, with someone else.
“I can’t just watch this happen,” Kibum muttered under his breath, mostly to himself.
Taemin seemed to sense the shift in the air, the playful energy fading as he approached Kibum, his tone quieter now. “You really think he’s not going to let her in if you don’t show up for him, hyung?”
Kibum didn’t answer, but his mind was already made up. The truth had been right there in front of him all along, and now it was time to face it. He was done running. If he wanted to keep Minho, he’d have to fight for him.
“I’ll stop him,” Kibum said, his voice determined.
Taemin raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Good luck, hyung.”
Jonghyun gave him a look, his voice firm but supportive. “Go on. It’s time to stop hiding.”
Kibum took a deep breath, glancing once more at the box with the ring. Then he turned and strode toward the door. He wasn’t sure what would happen next, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to lose Minho without a fight.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The air was still, the silence almost suffocating. Kibum stirred on the couch, his head heavy and spinning faintly from too much wine. The last thing he remembered was sitting with Jonghyun, Taemin, and the others—the laughter, the noise, the heavy weight of Minho and his girlfriend’s presence across the room. But now…
He blinked into the dim light, disoriented. The cabin was quiet, eerily so. The warm buzz of conversation and clinking glasses was gone, replaced by a heavy stillness. The lights were dimmed, leaving only the soft flicker of candlelight casting shadows across the walls. The warm glow of the Christmas tree twinkled in the corner, but the emptiness of the space gnawed at him.
“Guys?” Kibum called out, his voice cracking slightly. No answer.
For a moment, Kibum froze, his mind struggling to piece together what had happened. Where was everyone? How long had he been asleep?
Then the thought hit him like a punch to the gut:
I missed it.
His heart sank as he sat upright, shaking off the lingering haze of sleep, his hands gripping the edge of the couch. The room looked… perfect. Too perfect. The table was cleared, the plates and glasses gone as if the evening had been packed away neatly. The candles cast a romantic, intimate glow, and the faint scent of cinnamon lingered in the air.
Had he missed it? The proposal?
He ran a hand through his hair, his chest tightening with each passing second.
Of course I missed it. I fell asleep like an idiot. What was I thinking, drinking that much?
His fingers tightened against the cushion beneath him, the realization cutting deeper and deeper.
They were all here, and I was too busy wallowing in my own misery to stay awake. Now it’s over, and I wasn’t even there to see it.
The image formed so clearly in his mind it made him sick: Minho, down on one knee, holding out the ring. Her tears of joy, the others clapping and laughing, celebrating the beginning of their future. And him? Passed out on the couch, too pathetic to even pretend he was fine.
He pushed himself to his feet, the weight of his own failure pressing down on him like lead. His voice cracked as he called out into the silence, “Hello?”
No answer.
His footsteps felt heavy as he made his way into the kitchen. It was spotless, not a single crumb or dish out of place. The remnants of their chaotic, laughter-filled dinner were gone, replaced by an almost unsettling calm. His stomach twisted.
“Is anyone here?” he called again, louder this time, his voice echoing through the empty cabin.
He walked toward the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. His mind raced with every horrible possibility.
They probably went out to celebrate. Or worse, they all left because they didn’t want me ruining the moment. I wouldn’t blame them.
His hand brushed the wall as he steadied himself.
I should’ve done something. I should’ve stayed awake, should’ve stopped drinking, should’ve—
A faint sound stopped him in his tracks. Footsteps.
He turned toward the bedroom, his heart jumping to his throat. Minho stepped out of the shadows, his expression unreadable, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.
“You’re awake,” Minho said, his voice calm, steady, as if nothing was wrong.
Kibum stared at him, the calmness only fueling the anger bubbling beneath his skin. He gestured vaguely to the room, to the candles, to the intimacy of it all. “Where is everyone?” he demanded, his voice sharp and uneven.
“They left,” Minho replied simply, taking a step closer.
Something in Kibum snapped. He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and biting. “Of course, they did. Wouldn’t want to ruin the romantic moment, right?” His gaze flicked to the candles, the cozy glow of the room. “Did you finally do it? Get down on one knee and confess your undying love?”
Minho frowned, his brows drawing together. “What are you talking about?”
Minho’s expression darkened, his calm facade cracking at Kibum’s biting words. He took another step closer, his presence towering but not intimidating—more like a force Kibum couldn’t ignore.
“Oh, come on,” Kibum snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I saw the ring, Minho. You couldn’t have made it more obvious. And now the big, dramatic moment is over, and I wasn’t even awake to witness it.”
“You think I proposed to her?” Minho asked, his voice low, dangerous.
Kibum folded his arms over his chest, forcing himself to hold Minho’s gaze even as his pulse quickened. “Didn’t you? Isn’t that what all this is about? The candles, the perfect setup—why else would she be here?”
Minho’s jaw tightened, his calm exterior cracking. “You
really
think I proposed to her?”
Kibum scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, didn’t you? Isn’t that why you dragged her here tonight? To rub it in my face that you’ve moved on?”
Minho’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he stared at Kibum. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, more to himself than to Kibum. “You’re unbelievable.”
Kibum scoffed, his frustration boiling over. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t get it. You never get it,” Minho snapped, his voice louder now, tinged with years of suppressed emotion. “Do you know how exhausting it is? Pretending I don’t care because you act like I don’t exist half the time? Because you can’t even admit what’s right in front of you?”
Kibum’s breath hitched, but he refused to back down. “Don’t put this on me,” he shot back. “You’re the one who brought her here, Minho! You’re the one playing house while I’m just—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Forget it.”
“No, say it,” Minho demanded, stepping closer. “Go ahead, Kibum. Tell me how this is all my fault. Tell me how I’m the bad guy for trying to move on because you wouldn’t let me in.”
Kibum glared at him, the fire in his chest matching the storm in Minho’s eyes. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to sit there and watch you with her? Like it didn’t tear me apart every damn time?” His voice broke on the last word, and he hated himself for it.
“Then why didn’t you say something?” Minho shouted, his voice raw. “Why didn’t you fight for me? For us?”
Kibum flinched, his heart hammering against his ribs. “Because I was scared, okay?” he finally admitted, his voice shaking. “Because I thought if I let you in, I’d lose everything. And maybe I already have.”
Minho froze, his chest heaving as Kibum’s words sank in. For a moment, the room was silent, save for their ragged breaths and the faint crackle of the fireplace.
“Do you have any idea what we’ve lost?” Minho asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “The time we wasted? The things we could’ve had? I wanted you, Kibum. I wanted
us.
And every time I thought we were close, you pushed me away. Do you know how much that hurt?”
Kibum’s anger flared again, defensive and raw. “And do you know how hard it was for me to even let myself feel this way? To admit that you—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be terrified of losing the only thing that feels real in your life.”
Minho shook his head, his eyes burning into Kibum’s. “No, I don’t understand. Because I was ready to risk everything for you, and you couldn’t even give me a chance.”
The words hung in the air like a dagger, sharp and cutting. Kibum’s hands trembled at his sides, his mind racing.
Minho let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You want to know the truth, Kibum? The ring—it wasn’t for her. It was never for her.”
Kibum’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. “What?”
Minho stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, laced with pain. “It was for you. It’s always been for you. But I couldn’t keep waiting for someone who never wanted me back.”
The weight of Minho’s words hung heavy in the air, suffocating in its intensity. Kibum’s hands trembled at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to say something, anything—but his throat felt like it had closed up, trapping the words inside.
Minho’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes boring into Kibum’s as if waiting for some kind of reaction. But Kibum couldn’t handle it. Not right now. Not with the room closing in around him, the truth slamming into him like a freight train.
“I—I need some air,” Kibum muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his footsteps quick and uneven.
The icy chill of the night hit him like a slap to the face as he stepped outside. Snow covered the ground, a pristine blanket untouched by footprints, and the sky above was a sea of stars. His breath puffed out in small clouds as he fumbled for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
His fingers were stiff from the cold as he lit one, the familiar burn of the smoke filling his lungs. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the freezing air.
The ring wasn’t for her. It was for you.
The words replayed in his mind on an endless loop, each repetition cutting deeper than the last. He felt like an idiot—a complete and utter fool. All this time, he’d been so consumed by his own fear and jealousy that he hadn’t even considered the possibility.
He wanted you. He always wanted you.
Kibum’s grip on the cigarette tightened as he brought it to his lips again, the bitter taste grounding him. He let his head fall back, staring up at the stars. It was beautiful out here, in the middle of nowhere. Quiet. Peaceful. Nothing like the chaos swirling inside him.
He thought about the years they’d wasted, the unspoken feelings, the constant pushing and pulling. It wasn’t just him who had suffered—Minho had, too. And now, standing here in the freezing cold, Kibum couldn’t help but feel the weight of all the moments they’d lost.
The sound of the cabin door opening behind him broke the silence. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” Minho said, his voice soft but firm. “It’s freezing.”
Kibum took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly. “Needed to think,” he muttered.
Minho stepped closer, his boots crunching in the snow. “You could’ve done that inside.”
Kibum let out a bitter laugh, finally glancing at Minho. “And stay in there? After everything you just said? No, thanks.”
Minho sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, his breath fogging in the air.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the faint whistle of the wind and the occasional crackle of Kibum’s cigarette.
“I didn’t know,” Kibum said finally, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.
Minho’s gaze snapped to him, his expression unreadable. “Didn’t know what?”
Kibum turned to face him fully, the cigarette dangling between his fingers. “How much it hurt you. How much I—” He stopped, shaking his head. “I was so caught up in my own fear that I didn’t even think about what it was doing to you.”
Minho’s jaw tightened, his eyes softening as he looked at Kibum. “It wasn’t just you,” he said after a moment. “I could’ve fought harder. Said something sooner. But I didn’t.”
Kibum’s lips twisted into a sad smile. “We’re a mess, aren’t we?”
Minho chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Yeah. We are.”
Kibum tossed the cigarette onto the snow and crushed it under his boot, the ember snuffed out in an instant. The bitter cold bit at his skin, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did, except for the man standing a few feet away, staring at him like he was both the solution and the problem.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kibum asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation.
Minho’s brow furrowed. “And what would’ve been the point? Every time I tried, you shut me down. You acted like what we had—what we
could
have—wasn’t even real.”
Kibum flinched at the accusation, guilt prickling at his skin. “It wasn’t like that,” he said quietly.
“Then what was it, Kibum?” Minho snapped, his voice rising. “Because from where I stood, it felt like you didn’t want me. Like I wasn’t enough.”
“You were
always
enough,” Kibum shot back, his voice breaking. “That was the problem! You were too much—too perfect, too important. And I couldn’t risk losing you if it all went wrong.”
Minho stared at him, his eyes searching Kibum’s face for any sign of hesitation. “So instead, you pushed me away. Over and over again. Do you know how hard it was to keep coming back, hoping that maybe this time you’d let me in?”
Kibum’s chest tightened, tears stinging his eyes. He looked away, unable to face the raw pain in Minho’s gaze. “I thought I was protecting us,” he whispered. “Protecting you.”
“From what?” Minho demanded, stepping closer. “From
me
? From something that could’ve been good? Great, even?”
Kibum shook his head, his hands trembling at his sides. “From getting hurt. From ruining everything we have.”
Minho let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Newsflash, Kibum—we’re already hurt. We’ve been hurting for years because neither of us could be honest about what we wanted.”
The words hit Kibum like a punch to the gut, the truth of them settling in his bones. He looked up at Minho, his vision blurred by unshed tears. “And what do we do now?”
Minho stepped closer, his presence warm despite the freezing air. “We stop running,” he said, his voice softer now. “We stop pretending. And we figure it out, together.”
Kibum’s breath hitched as Minho reached out, his hand hesitating for a moment before gently cupping Kibum’s cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down Kibum’s spine, and he leaned into it without thinking.
“I’m scared,” Kibum admitted, his voice barely audible.
“I know,” Minho said, his thumb brushing softly against Kibum’s skin. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
The tension between them shifted, the anger and frustration melting into something softer, something fragile and real. Kibum’s gaze flicked to Minho’s lips, and before he could second-guess himself, he closed the distance between them.
The kiss was tentative at first, hesitant and filled with years of unspoken emotions. But then Minho’s hand slid to the back of Kibum’s neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Kibum’s hands gripped Minho’s coat, holding on as if he were afraid to let go.
When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling in the cold air, Kibum rested his forehead against Minho’s. “I’m still scared,” he admitted, his voice trembling.
Minho smiled, his own breath uneven. “Me too. But we’ll figure it out.”
Kibum nodded, a small, shaky smile tugging at his lips. “Together?”
“Together,” Minho promised.
For the first time in years, Kibum felt a spark of hope.
Kibum exhaled shakily, pulling back slightly to look at Minho, their foreheads still brushing. “What about her?” he whispered, the lingering doubt clawing at him. “Wasn’t she… weren’t you…?”
Minho’s lips pressed into a thin line before curving into a small, almost apologetic smile. “She’s a friend. That’s all she’s ever been.”
Kibum blinked, confusion flickering across his face. “But the way she… you brought her here, and everyone acted like…”
“It was for you,” Minho interrupted softly. “The whole thing was for you. We thought—Jonghyun hyung, Taemin, Jinki hyung—we all thought you needed a push. That maybe if you saw what you could lose, you’d finally realize…” He trailed off, his gaze searching Kibum’s.
Kibum’s throat tightened. “Realize what?”
“That it’s always been you,” Minho said simply, his voice steady despite the raw emotion in his eyes. “It’s
only
ever been you, Kibum. You just needed to see it.”
Kibum froze, the weight of Minho’s words crashing over him. His knees felt weak, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. “So this… all of this… was a setup?”
Minho nodded, his lips twitching into a wry smile. “Not the way you’re thinking. There were no scripts, no rehearsals. Just a little nudge. Because we were tired of waiting for you to figure it out.”
Kibum stared at him, his thoughts racing, until finally, the corner of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile. “I hate how well you all know me.”
Minho chuckled, the sound warm and low. “You’d be lost without us.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Kibum muttered, though there was no real heat in his words.
Minho’s hand slid down to clasp Kibum’s, their fingers tangling together. “Come inside,” he said softly. “It’s freezing out here.”
Kibum hesitated, glancing back toward the cabin. The warm glow of candlelight spilled out onto the snow, beckoning him. He turned back to Minho, squeezing his hand. “You’re not just going to laugh at me for being ridiculous, are you?”
Minho’s smile softened, and he tugged Kibum closer, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. “Never.”
They stepped inside together, the warmth of the cabin enveloping them like a comforting embrace. The candles flickered softly, casting a golden glow over the room. The others were nowhere to be seen, leaving the space eerily quiet but undeniably intimate.
Minho led Kibum to the couch, their hands still entwined. Kibum’s heart raced as he sat down, watching Minho settle beside him. The air between them crackled with tension, years of unspoken feelings bubbling to the surface.
“You know,” Minho murmured, his fingers brushing against Kibum’s cheek, “I’ve imagined this moment a hundred times. A thousand, maybe. But nothing ever felt as real as this.”
Kibum swallowed hard, his chest tightening. “Me too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I was always too afraid to believe it could happen.”
Minho leaned in, his forehead resting against Kibum’s. “It’s happening, Kibum. We’re here. Together.”
The kiss that followed was slow and deliberate, a quiet exploration of something they’d both craved for so long. Minho’s hands cradled Kibum’s face as if he were something precious, something to be cherished. Kibum’s fingers tangled in Minho’s hair, holding him close, as if afraid he’d disappear.
Their breaths grew heavier, the kiss deepening as they lost themselves in each other. Minho shifted, his weight pressing Kibum back against the cushions. Their movements were unhurried, every touch deliberate, every kiss a silent promise.
“You’re everything,” Minho whispered against Kibum’s lips, his voice thick with emotion. “Everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Kibum’s eyes stung, his heart aching in the best possible way. “And you’re mine,” he replied, his voice breaking. “Always have been.”
Minho kissed Kibum slowly, as if savoring the moment, as if afraid it might slip away if he moved too quickly. His lips moved with a deliberate tenderness that made Kibum’s heart ache.
Kibum’s hands slid under Minho’s sweater, his fingers brushing against warm skin. Minho shivered at the touch, his breath hitching as he leaned further into Kibum, deepening the kiss.
“Bedroom?” Kibum whispered against Minho’s lips, his voice barely audible, a mix of nerves and desire.
Minho pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with emotion and intent. “Are you sure?”
Kibum nodded, a soft, trembling smile on his lips. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Minho stood, tugging Kibum up with him. Their hands remained clasped as Minho led him toward the small bedroom at the back of the cabin. The warm, golden glow of fairy lights wrapped around the room cast soft, flickering shadows across the walls, creating a cozy, almost surreal atmosphere. His steps faltered as he took it all in, the intimacy of the moment pressing down on him like a weight.
As the door clicked shut behind them, Kibum felt a wave of nervous energy flood his system. But then Minho was there, wrapping him in his arms, his presence grounding and reassuring.
Minho turned to him, his tall frame silhouetted against the lights. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant.
Kibum looked up at him, his chest tightening at the vulnerability in Minho’s expression. “Yeah,” he replied, though his voice wavered slightly. He took a shaky breath, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. “I just… this feels…”
“Like it’s been a long time coming?” Minho finished for him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Kibum let out a quiet laugh, his tension easing slightly. “Something like that.”
Minho stepped closer, his hands lifting to rest gently on Kibum’s shoulders. “We don’t have to rush,” he said, his thumbs brushing soothing circles against Kibum’s skin. “This isn’t just tonight for me, Kibum. It’s… everything.”
The sincerity in his voice made Kibum’s throat tighten. He nodded, his hands coming up to grip Minho’s sweater. “I know,” he whispered. “Me too.”
Minho leaned down, capturing Kibum’s lips in a kiss that was as tender as it was certain. Kibum sighed into it, his hands sliding up to tangle in Minho’s hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world.
Minho’s hands slid down Kibum’s back, pulling him flush against him. The heat of Minho’s body seeped into Kibum’s, chasing away any lingering nerves. When Minho began to ease Kibum’s sweater up, Kibum didn’t hesitate, lifting his arms to let it slide off.
“You’re beautiful,” Minho murmured, his fingers brushing against Kibum’s jaw. “Do you know that?”
Kibum huffed a quiet laugh, his cheeks flushing. “Don’t get sappy on me now, Choi.”
Minho grinned, his hands sliding down to Kibum’s waist as he pulled him closer. “Too late for that.”
They kissed again, slower this time, the weight of the moment sinking in. Minho’s hands worked their way into Kibum’s skin. Kibum’s hands found the hem of Minho’s sweater, tugging it up and over his head. He paused for a moment, his breath catching as he took in the sight of Minho’s broad chest and toned shoulders. “Unfair,” he muttered, his fingers brushing against Minho’s skin.
“What is?” Minho asked, amusement flickering in his eyes.
“You,” Kibum replied simply.
Minho’s smile softened, and he leaned down to press a kiss to Kibum’s forehead. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
Kibum’s chest tightened, and he surged up to kiss Minho again, pouring everything he couldn’t put into words into the press of their lips. Minho responded in kind, his hands roaming over Kibum’s body with a mixture of confidence and care.
When their skin finally met, Kibum gasped softly, the warmth of Minho’s touch spreading through him like a fire. Minho guided him to the bed, lowering him gently onto the soft sheets.
Kibum looked up at Minho, his breath catching at the way Minho gazed at him, his eyes filled with something deeper than desire. “Don’t look at me like that,” Kibum whispered, though his voice betrayed no protest.
“Like what?” Minho asked, leaning down to press a kiss to Kibum’s collarbone.
“Like I’m the only person in the world,” Kibum replied, his voice breaking slightly.
Minho paused, his lips hovering over Kibum’s skin. “But you are.”
The weight of those words settled between them, and Kibum felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He pulled Minho down into another kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it.
Their clothes were shed piece by piece, the cool air of the room quickly replaced by the warmth of their bodies. Minho’s hands moved with reverence, tracing every inch of Kibum’s skin as if memorizing him.
Kibum’s breath hitched as Minho’s kisses trailed lower, his lips ghosting over sensitive skin. “Minho,” Kibum breathed, his fingers tangling in Minho’s hair.
“I’ve got you,” Minho murmured, his voice steady and soothing. “Just let me take care of you.”
Kibum looked up at him, his heart racing as Minho settled beside him. “You don’t have to be so careful, you know,” he said softly, his lips quirking into a small, teasing smile.
Minho raised an eyebrow, his expression fond. “I’ll always be careful with you,” he replied, his fingers brushing against Kibum’s cheek. “You’re worth it.”
Kibum’s smile faltered, replaced by something more vulnerable. He reached up, cupping Minho’s face in his hands. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice trembling.
“Yes, you do,” Minho said firmly, his gaze unwavering. “You deserve everything.”
Kibum’s eyes stung with unshed tears, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled Minho down into another kiss, the intensity between them growing.
Minho’s hands explored Kibum’s body with a reverence that made Kibum feel like he was something sacred. He took his time, kissing and touching every inch of skin, learning what made Kibum gasp, what made him tremble.
“Minho,” Kibum breathed, his voice breaking. His hands gripped Minho’s shoulders, his nails digging in slightly as Minho kissed a path down his neck and across his collarbone.
Minho pulled back just enough to look Kibum in the eye. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.
Kibum nodded, his chest heaving. “I’m more than okay,” he whispered. “I want this. I want
you
.”
Minho’s eyes softened, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to Kibum’s lips. “You have me,” he said simply.
Their movements became more fluid, a slow rhythm building between them as they gave themselves to each other completely. Every touch, every kiss was filled with an aching kind of love, years of longing and missed opportunities melting away in the intimacy they now shared.
Kibum’s breath hitched, his body arching against Minho’s as the intensity of their connection grew. Minho held him close, grounding him, his whispered reassurances like a lifeline.
When they finally came together, it was slow and unhurried, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Minho’s hands gripped Kibum’s hips, grounding him, as Kibum arched beneath him, his breaths coming in soft, shuddering gasps. It was a release of everything they’d been holding back for so long.
“You’re perfect,” Minho whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
“So are you,” Kibum replied, his hands clutching at Minho’s shoulders as waves of pleasure and emotion washed over him.
They moved together like they’d always been meant to, the years of longing and denial melting away. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word felt like a promise—a commitment to finally stop running, to finally let themselves be.
When it was over, they lay tangled together in the sheets, their breaths still heavy, their hearts pounding in unison. Minho’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Kibum’s skin, his lips brushing against Kibum’s temple.
“Are you okay?” Minho asked softly, his voice filled with concern.
Kibum turned to face him, his lips curving into a small, contented smile. “I’m more than okay,” he replied. “I’m finally home.”
Minho’s arms tightened around him, holding him close. “Merry Christmas, Kibum.”
Kibum pressed a kiss to Minho’s chest, his eyes fluttering shut. “Merry Christmas, Minho.”
For the first time in years, Kibum felt truly at peace.
The room was still, save for the soft sounds of their breath mingling in the air. Minho’s weight pressed gently against Kibum, his body sprawled across the bed, still tangled with his. The warmth of their skin together was like an anchor, but Kibum felt like he was drowning all the same.
His heart was racing, his thoughts a mess of overwhelming feelings. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, his chest heaving with the aftermath. Minho’s hand, warm and comforting, rested on his hip, his fingers tracing lazy circles over the skin.
But then Kibum felt it—a tightness in his throat, an ache in his chest that started small but bloomed into something unbearable. His eyes burned, and before he could stop it, the first tear slipped down his cheek.
Minho felt the shift almost instantly. His hand stilled, and he propped himself up on one arm, his eyes immediately searching Kibum’s face. "Kibum?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
Kibum squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blink the tears away, but they only came faster, spilling down the sides of his face in hot trails. He could feel the wetness on his skin, but he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop himself from feeling everything—the guilt, the love, the confusion, all of it crashing into him at once.
“I—” Kibum gasped, trying to speak but unable to form coherent words. His hand clenched into a fist at his side, fingers trembling. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Minho’s expression softened, his hand reaching out to gently cup Kibum’s face, wiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing. "You don’t have to explain anything. Just breathe."
But Kibum couldn’t. It felt like all the emotions he’d buried for so long were coming to the surface all at once, and he didn’t know how to handle them. His breath hitched, and another sob broke free from his chest.
“I ruined everything," Kibum whispered, his voice cracking. "I’ve always been so scared. I never let myself... let myself love you the way I wanted to. And now I’ve missed everything. I
lost
you."
Minho’s heart ached at the rawness in Kibum’s words. He pulled Kibum closer, pressing him into his chest, and let the younger man cry into him, his tears soaking into Minho’s skin. "You didn’t lose me, Kibum," Minho said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You never did. I’m here. I’m always going to be here."
“I don’t deserve you," Kibum choked out, his voice muffled by Minho’s chest. "You could have had anyone, Minho. Anyone but me."
Minho exhaled a long, shaky breath, his own emotions simmering just beneath the surface. He gently pulled back, lifting Kibum’s chin so their eyes met. "You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.
You
deserve all of me, Kibum. You always have."
The sincerity in Minho’s eyes, the warmth of his touch, made Kibum’s heart swell and break at the same time. He felt the weight of everything—years of fear, regret, and unspoken feelings—all of it flooding him in that moment.
Minho continued to hold him, his arms wrapped around him tightly, as if he was afraid to let go. "This is it," Minho whispered, voice thick with the emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to express until now. "We’ve finally found each other. We’ve been
so stupid
for not doing this sooner."
Kibum swallowed hard, his tears slowing as he let Minho’s words wash over him. He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against Minho’s chest again, and let out a long, shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for pushing you away, for making you think I didn’t want you.”
Minho pressed a kiss to the top of Kibum’s head, his arms tightening around him. "I know you were scared. We both were. But we're here now, Kibum. We’re finally here."
Kibum took in a deep breath, slowly calming as Minho’s steady presence soothed him. He was still trembling, still overwhelmed, but now it felt like there was room for healing—room for them to rebuild what had been broken.
"I love you," Kibum whispered, his voice soft but steady, as though saying it again would solidify everything.
Minho kissed the top of his head gently, his voice filled with the same certainty. "I love you too. And I always will."
Kibum closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Minho’s love flood through him. He didn’t have all the answers, and the road ahead would still be difficult. But for the first time, he didn’t feel alone in it.
And that, in itself, was enough.
The sun had barely risen when Kibum and Minho quietly left the bedroom, their footsteps muffled by the soft carpet. The night before felt like a dream—raw, intense, and full of emotions—but as the morning light spilled through the windows, the reality of it all settled in. Kibum glanced at Minho, who was walking beside him, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
As they stepped into the living room, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and there was the unmistakable sound of Taemin’s laughter.
Kibum paused, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he saw the youngest member perched on the couch, nibbling on one of the cookies
Minho’s girlfriend
had brought last night. The mischievous glint in Taemin’s eyes was unmistakable as he caught sight of them.
“Good morning, lovebirds,” Taemin teased, raising the cookie to his lips with exaggerated care. “Sleep well?”
Kibum shot Taemin a fake glare, his face flushing just slightly as he crossed his arms. “You little gremlin,” he muttered, eyes narrowing in mock anger. “Did you know about this?”
Taemin grinned widely, not even attempting to hide his amusement. “What, about Minho hyung’s
romantic plans
?” He looked at Kibum as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Please, everyone knew. Except for you, apparently.”
Kibum threw his hands up in exaggerated frustration. “You all conspired against me, didn’t you?” he huffed, trying to play along with the act of being angry. “You let me
wallow
in my own self-pity while you set this up? For what, your amusement?”
Minho, standing just behind Kibum, chuckled softly. He could feel Kibum’s attempt at fake indignation, but there was a hint of warmth in his voice when he spoke up. “I’m glad we did, though. You needed a little push.”
Kibum’s eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “I can’t believe you let
everyone
in on it. Not one of you thought to tell me?”
Taemin, now finishing his cookie, leaned forward with a playful glint in his eyes. “We tried. But you’re a bit of a stubborn one, Kibum. You needed to come to the realization on your own, didn't you?”
Kibum let out a dramatic sigh, throwing himself down on the couch next to Taemin. “You’re all
terrible
. I can’t believe I fell for it.” He shot a pointed look at Taemin, who was now happily munching on his cookie, completely unfazed by Kibum’s performance.
“Don’t worry,” Taemin teased, “We’ll just say the cookies are your reward for being so oblivious.”
Kibum shot him a side-eye. “Keep eating those, and I’ll never let you live it down.”
“Sure, sure, hyung,” Taemin responded, taking another exaggerated bite, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Kibum huffed again, but his lips tugged up into a reluctant smile. Despite his best efforts to stay ‘angry,’ he couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“You know,” Kibum said, shifting on the couch to face Minho, “I think I’m actually mad at you, too. You had this all planned, huh?”
Minho raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly amused. “I did,” he admitted. “You needed to see things. You needed to stop hiding from what you really want.”
Kibum sighed dramatically and shook his head, though his eyes softened. “I’m really going to hold this against you for the rest of your life.”
“Is that a threat?” Minho grinned, leaning closer to Kibum.
“Maybe,” Kibum said, his lips quirking into a smile as he leaned back. “But I suppose you’re lucky I’ve forgiven you. Just this once.”
Taemin snorted from his spot on the couch. “Forgiven? Please, hyung, we all know you’ve been
in love
with him since forever.” He shot Minho a teasing glance. “So, tell us, how does it feel to have him finally admit it?”
Kibum blushed a deep shade of red, his hand swatting at Taemin in mock frustration. “Stop, Taemin!” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re going to make me regret this entire thing.”
Minho, watching the exchange between them, could only laugh. “I’m just glad it’s out in the open now. No more running, no more hiding.” He gently nudged Kibum’s knee with his own, his voice lowering to a more serious tone. “We’ve got all the time in the world now, Kibum. To figure everything out. Together.”
Kibum’s heart fluttered at the words, and despite his earlier teasing, he felt a warmth spread through him. For the first time in a long while, everything felt right.
He turned to Minho, offering a small smile. “I think... I think I’m ready for that. Together.”
“Good,” Minho replied, his eyes filled with the same certainty Kibum had felt the night before. “We’re just getting started.”
Taemin, clearly tired of watching the two of them get all mushy, cleared his throat dramatically. “Well, now that we’ve witnessed
that
little moment, can someone pass me a real breakfast?”
Kibum grinned at the sudden shift in Taemin’s mood. “You really are something else,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I should have known you’d ruin the moment.”
But despite his words, Kibum felt a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time.
The cabin was filled with the usual chaos of a lazy morning. Taemin had already devoured half of the pancakes Jinki had made, and he was now sitting with a mug of hot cocoa, grinning mischievously at Kibum as if the entire night had been one big inside joke that only he and the others were privy to.
Jinki, the ever-serene presence in their group, was humming while preparing breakfast, oblivious to the teasing atmosphere that had developed. Jonghyun sat beside him, glancing over with an amused smirk as he listened to the banter between Kibum and Taemin.
Kibum, still fighting the warmth creeping up his cheeks, couldn’t help but glare at Taemin, even though he knew it was all in good fun. He was still processing everything—last night, his feelings for Minho, the surprise and relief of it all—and Taemin’s constant teasing wasn’t helping.
“Stop grinning like that, Taemin,” Kibum muttered, shaking his head. “You’re not a
little angel
anymore, okay?”
“Me?” Taemin smirked, raising his eyebrows. “I’m just enjoying the show, hyung. You two were
so obvious
.” He tossed a playful glance at Minho. “You’re just lucky I didn’t have popcorn to watch last night’s drama.”
Minho chuckled, but there was an edge to his voice. “You really need to stop with your gossiping, Taemin-ah,” he said, his smile making it clear he wasn’t actually mad. “You’re going to give Kibum a headache.”
Kibum rolled his eyes. “I
already
have a headache, thank you very much,” he grumbled, rubbing his temples. He’d barely gotten any sleep, and now he was being reminded of everything.
Jinki, who had been quietly flipping pancakes on the stove, suddenly turned around with a calm smile. “What’s going on? I hear some serious tension in here,” he asked, his voice light but knowing.
“Don’t start, Jinki hyung,” Kibum shot back, shooting a pointed look at him. “You should be the wise one, the one who
guides
us through all of this. You let all of this happen.
All of it
.” He gestured dramatically toward the room, his hands moving through the air like he was summing up the absurdity of the situation.
Jinki blinked, genuinely taken aback by the frustration in Kibum’s voice. “I didn’t know what else to do, Bummie,” he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “You needed to figure things out on your own. It’s never easy, and honestly, we weren’t sure how much of it you’d actually want to face.”
Kibum ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “That’s the thing, hyung. I
shouldn’t
have to face this! I shouldn’t have to go through
all of this
alone,” he snapped, his voice rising slightly. “I was so
stupid
, and I thought I was protecting myself. But really, all I did was push Minho away.”
There was a brief silence as everyone took in Kibum’s words. Jonghyun, sensing the rising tension, tried to lighten the mood. “Well, at least you’re not alone now,” he teased, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “And Minho, of all people, finally got his head on straight.”
Minho, who had been quiet through most of Kibum’s outburst, now shot a soft smile at Kibum. “We’re good,” he said simply, reaching out to grab Kibum’s hand across the table. “And you’re not stupid. You’ve just been... trying to protect your heart.”
Kibum glanced at Minho, his anger slowly ebbing away, replaced by a flood of conflicting emotions. But just as quickly, the frustration crept back up again as he turned toward Jinki. “But you—
you’re the one who’s supposed to have all the answers
. You’ve always been the one to give advice, to keep us on track. Why didn’t you do more?”
Jinki sighed softly, his calm demeanor unwavering despite the tension. “I can’t make decisions for you, Kibum. I’ve always tried to help you find your own way, even if it means you make mistakes along the way. You know that.” His voice was gentle, but his eyes held a quiet strength. “And it’s not about having all the answers, Bum. Sometimes, you need to figure things out yourself. And this... this is a good thing. You’re learning, and you’re not doing it alone anymore.”
Kibum’s eyes softened at the sincerity in Jinki’s voice, but there was still a part of him that couldn’t quite let go of the frustration. He exhaled deeply, looking down at the table.
“You’re right,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I just... wish I hadn’t waited so long.”
There was a brief silence as everyone took in Kibum’s words. Jonghyun, sensing the rising tension, leaned forward slightly, his usual smirk gone. “Kibum...” he began, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I pushed you because I knew you wouldn’t admit it to yourself. I knew you were running from your feelings.”
Kibum’s eyes snapped to him, and for a moment, he was speechless. Jonghyun wasn’t wrong. “You... you did this on purpose?”
“Not to hurt you,” Jonghyun clarified quickly. “But because I knew you needed a
push
. I couldn’t watch you be miserable anymore, avoiding Minho and keeping your feelings buried. You were
so
close, Kibum, and yet you just kept... shutting him out. It was all a cycle—
your
cycle. I needed you to see what you were doing, to see how much you were hurting him. And yourself.”
Kibum’s frustration flared, but there was something else behind his anger now—something he hadn’t quite been able to process before. It was the truth, and Jonghyun was right. He had been running, afraid of what it would mean to face his feelings. “You could have told me that
before
all this,” Kibum said bitterly, his voice low.
Jonghyun didn’t flinch. “And you wouldn’t have listened. You never do. But now... now you get it, don’t you? It’s the hardest thing in the world to confront your own heart, Bum-ah. But look at you now.”
Kibum’s eyes softened for just a moment, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. He wasn’t sure if he was mad at Jonghyun for pushing him so hard or grateful that he finally saw what he needed to.
“And Minho...?” Kibum asked, his voice quieter.
“Minho has always been there,” Jonghyun said with a slight smile. “He was just waiting for you to figure it out, too.”
Kibum sighed, the weight of everything pressing down on him again. He turned to Minho, who had been quiet through most of the conversation, and their eyes locked. The intensity of the moment almost made him falter, but instead, he exhaled sharply, letting go of the lingering anger. “You all really had me fooled, didn’t you?”
Jinki smiled softly. “We had to, Kibum,” he said. “Because this is your story to tell. We were just here to help you find your way.”
Kibum rubbed his face in frustration, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips now. “You’re all lucky I love you, you know that?”
Taemin snorted. “We know, hyung. We know.”
Jonghyun clapped Kibum on the back. “Now that’s the Kibum I know.”
Kibum glanced around at the familiar faces, his irritation finally giving way to a sense of calm he hadn’t expected. They were all here, still standing by him, even after everything. And, in the end, he realized that the push, the discomfort, and even the chaos had been worth it.
With a deep breath, Kibum finally turned back to Minho. “I guess I owe you an apology too,” he said, his voice soft but genuine.
Minho only smiled, that smile Kibum knew so well, one that spoke volumes of understanding. “No need. You can’t go back and change things,” Minho said softly, squeezing his hand gently. “But you can move forward. And I’m right here, Kibum. Always.”
The warmth of Minho’s hand in his was enough to calm Kibum down. The words that had been building inside him for so long finally seemed to fall into place. He wasn’t alone anymore. They’d both spent years holding back, afraid to face their feelings. But now, they were here, and things were different.
“Okay, okay,” Kibum muttered, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “I’m mad at all of you, but mostly, I’m mad at
myself
.”
Jonghyun leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. “I knew you’d get it eventually.”
Taemin let out a loud snicker, winking at Kibum. “Well, it’s good you can finally admit that,” he teased.
Kibum shot him a glare. “Shut up, Taemin. You’re supposed to be on my side, not making things worse.”
Jinki, now finished with the pancakes, placed a stack in front of Kibum. “Alright, alright, let’s call a truce, huh? Everyone's too wound up. How about we just... eat, and talk about something else for a bit?”
Kibum shot him an exaggerated look of annoyance. “You always know how to be the peacekeeper, don’t you?”
Jinki smiled warmly. “That’s my job, Kibum.”
The boys settled into a comfortable silence as they dug into the breakfast Jinki had prepared, the tension slowly melting away, replaced by the quiet comfort of shared history and newfound peace. Kibum glanced at Minho, feeling the weight of everything still in his chest but also a sense of relief. They were here, together, and things were finally starting to feel right.
And for the first time, Kibum could let go of his anger—both at himself and at the past—and focus on the future.
Kibum smiled back, feeling the weight of the night’s confusion and frustration starting to melt away. “Well, at least now I don’t have to keep wondering what might have been.”
With the teasing behind them and the final layer of tension fading, the boys settled into a more comfortable silence as they ate breakfast together, exchanging small jokes and knowing glances. Taemin was teasing Kibum about something from last night, and Jinki was joking about the food they’d prepared. But Kibum, for the first time in what felt like forever, was quiet—his mind still circling around the events of the past few days.
After breakfast, Minho stood up, his movements smooth and calm as he reached into his pocket. Kibum glanced up, noticing the change in Minho’s demeanor. There was a subtle seriousness to the way he moved, something that made Kibum pause.
“What is it, Minho?” Kibum asked, a smirk on his lips despite the flutter of nerves in his stomach.
Minho didn’t respond right away. Instead, he walked toward Kibum and, with a steady hand, pulled out a small, velvet box from his pocket. Kibum blinked in surprise, his heart skipping a beat as he stared at it.
“No way,” Kibum whispered, his eyes flickering between the box and Minho’s face. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling excited, overwhelmed, or slightly terrified.
Minho smiled softly, almost nervously. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Kibum raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, the teasing glint returning in his eyes. “Oh? A proposal? I don’t think a ring is going to be enough to make up for everything you’ve put me through, Minho-ssi,” he said, his voice laced with playful sarcasm.
Minho’s lips curled into a small, loving smile. He opened the box slowly, revealing a simple but elegant silver band. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but there was a quiet beauty to it—something that felt timeless, just like the feelings between them.
“This isn’t about what I’ve put you through,” Minho replied quietly, taking the ring in his hand and holding it up. His gaze was steady, sincere. “This is just a symbol of our forever’s beginning. Of everything we have and everything we still get to build together.”
Kibum’s teasing smile faltered, something warm and tender blooming in his chest as he looked at the ring. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart suddenly much heavier than he expected it to be.
“You’ve been waiting for this... for me?” Kibum whispered, his voice barely above a breath. His usual sharpness was gone, replaced with something softer, something deeper.
Minho nodded, taking Kibum’s hand gently in his own. “I’ve always been waiting for you, Kibum. Even when we were both too scared to admit it.”
Kibum looked down at the ring in Minho’s hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the cool metal. The weight of the moment hit him all at once, everything that had led them to this point—the fights, the distance, the misunderstandings—and everything that lay ahead.
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’m not easy, you know,” he said, his usual wit creeping back into his voice. “But I guess... I guess I can live with this.”
Minho laughed, relief and happiness flooding his expression. He slid the ring onto Kibum’s finger with a steady hand, the action feeling like the closing of a chapter, but also the beginning of something new.
When the ring finally settled into place, Kibum looked up at Minho, his eyes glistening with a mixture of emotions. “This is real, isn’t it? Not some kind of Christmas miracle?”
Minho stepped closer, resting his forehead against Kibum’s. “It’s more real than anything I’ve ever known.”
There was a long moment of silence, a quiet that wrapped around them like a soft blanket. Kibum’s heart was racing, but in a way that felt right, finally in sync with the man in front of him.
“I think you’re enough,” Minho whispered, his breath warm against Kibum’s skin. “I think we’re enough.”
Kibum laughed softly, the sound almost a sigh. “Maybe we are.”
Before they could share another kiss, the sounds of chuckling and loud footsteps approached from behind them. Kibum and Minho pulled apart quickly, and Kibum’s heart skipped a beat when Taemin came into view, a sly grin spread across his face.
“Not gonna lie, I thought this would take a lot longer,” Taemin teased, waving a cookie in front of them. “Guess someone’s already officially off the market, huh?”
Jinki, ever the gentle giant, gave a wide smile and nudged Taemin. “You didn’t think they’d take
that
long, did you?”
Kibum shot them both a mock glare, though there was no real heat in it. “I swear, I’m going to start charging you for my emotional labor.” he said, his voice dripping with exaggerated annoyance.
Jonghyun, who had been quietly observing from the other side of the room, piped up, his tone filled with warmth and a hint of pride. “Well, I guess you could say this was
my
doing too. It’s about time, right?”
Kibum gave him a playful scowl. “You
really
need to stop messing with me,” he muttered. “I don’t know how you put up with my breakdowns and still thought this was a good idea.”
“I’m the wise one,” Jonghyun said with a grin. “Sometimes you just need a little push, Kibum. We knew it was worth it.”
The teasing went on, with Taemin poking fun at how
finally
the two had made it official and Jinki offering mock condolences on how Kibum was officially stuck with Minho. Despite his earlier frustration, Kibum couldn’t help but laugh.
“Alright, alright. You’ve all had your fun,” Kibum said with a sigh, rubbing his temples. “But can we please just
enjoy
this? I’m seriously done with you guys for today.”
Minho, who had been standing quietly beside Kibum, now placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice low and affectionate. “We’ve got the rest of forever to enjoy this, don’t we?”
Kibum turned to him, his heart swelling with something deeper than he had words for. “Yeah. We do.”
Minho smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Forever.”
And as the others continued to joke and tease around them, Kibum looked at Minho, feeling a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying lift from his shoulders. They’d made it. Together. And there was nowhere else he’d rather be.