Camp Echo, Mt. Desert Island, Maine

Taemin aged 15; Minho aged 17

—

Taemin sat on the creaky mattress in the cabin, his knees tucked against his chest, as he tried to breathe in time with the ripple of waves on the lake that he could spy from the window above his bed. He wasn't sure if Minho would be here this year. He hadn't written Taemin a single letter, though Taemin hadn't exactly sent him one either, assuming he didn't have the right. He supposed it was too late to ask anyone anyway, as his mother was long gone on her journey back to Massachusetts, and Taemin wouldn't be able to explain to her why exactly he should turn around. He heard the blare of the camp director's voice over the loudspeaker, announcing the jamboree would begin in a half hour. Taemin wouldn't attend. This entire summer, he intended to hide right here. He didn't want to see Tommy either. Taemin hadn't told him what happened, and he knew it would be the first thing he asked.

Lost in his thoughts, Taemin didn't hear the door creak open until Minho was already halfway across the room. Taemin's body tensed, fearing the worst as Minho haphazardly tossed his duffel to the side, freeing his arms to wrap Taemin in a tight embrace. Taemin couldn't move, couldn't react, his brain not understanding what was happening. When Minho didn't relent, Taemin's body eventually relaxed, and he reached up a nervous hand to settle lightly on Minho's back.

"Why didn't you stop?" Minho asked, his voice unsteady. "I ran after you. Why didn't you stop?"

Taemin raised his arms, both of them hugging Minho's waist. His fingers clenched the fabric at the back of his shirt as he replied, "I thought you hated me. I was ashamed. I couldn't face you. I didn't know if you were coming to beat me up or tell my mom or—"

"Taemin, I didn't hate you. I never hated you," Minho said seriously, loosening his grasp on Taemin so he could look him in the eye. He settled on the edge of the mattress, turned towards Taemin's body.

Taemin's signature tears came back as he whimpered, "You—you were disgusted. I kissed you, and you hated it and—" 

"I wasn't disgusted. I didn't hate it. I—I liked it. I didn't react how I should have. I'm so sorry, Taemin. These past few years, I've been unsure if I had feelings for you, or if I just cared deeply for you as a friend. When you kissed me, I was blindsided, 'cause it made me realize that I absolutely like you, like, like you like you. I didn't know what to do. I should have come back and told you. I was scared of losing our friendship, but neither of us are happy as just friends, are we? I spent all year thinking about that kiss. I spent all year thinking about how much I wanted to kiss you again."

"Then why don't you?" Taemin said quietly, the frantic beating of his heart not matching the confidence of his question.

"Can I? Minho whispered, his fingers brushing against Taemin's cheek.

"Yeah," Taemin breathed as he leaned closer. "Anytime you like."

Minho closed the distance, his lips meeting Taemin's in a kiss that sent a wave of relief coursing through both of their bodies. It was short, yet sweet. The kiss was broken when Taemin began sobbing, as he always did when Minho was around and he felt safe being vulnerable. This time, unlike the last time they faced each other, they were happy tears. Even Minho's cheeks were looking a little damp.

"I thought I broke you. I snuck a peek at you a few times that night. You looked like you were in a daze," Taemin said, his hand grasping Minho's on the bed. His lips tingled, and he kept glancing at Minho's mouth, hoping for another kiss.

Minho let out an embarrassed chuckle, wiping his eyes with the back of his other hand. "How was I supposed to react to discovering I was in love with my best friend?" he said.

"In—in love?" Taemin repeated.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, I've never been in love before, but this feels like it's it. Don't worry: You don't have to say it back until you're ready."

Taemin didn't hesitate. "I love you, too," he answered. "Or at least, that's what Tommy said. I think he had the right idea."

"Tommy?"

"Yeah, my friend. He's got the heavy accent, rides horses with me—"

"Stares at my every time I walk by him."

"Yeah, you got him! He's the one who made me realize I like you, that, uh, convinced me to 'go for it' or whatever."

Minho kissed him again, and Taemin felt like the sun was rising in hi