Roughly two and a half years have passed. Taemin is twenty-one. His cheeks are still round, his face still that of a baby’s, and he’s still petite. The only thing that changed is his muscle mass, which has slightly increased, and his height, which has also (only slightly) increased. He also now wears magnifying glasses and his hair is more manageable; but his heart is continuous.
He attended the local college out of sheer indecisiveness and fright. He didn’t talk much, but he did well, and that’s all he really wanted to do anyway.
He now works for the local newspaper and helps manage online blogs regarding visual news and events. He is considered a journalist, but he is only limited to entertainment and all things social. This is never something Taemin would seek to take up, but he hopes that eventually he will be bumped up to a level which deals more with religious, political, or educational issues. He isn’t complaining (that much) for now, because the only reason he got that job was because of his resume which read that he had been ambassador of two very important organizations. He had only been ambassador because of a long lost lover. Therefore he had only gotten that position because of that long lost lover. So he hopes that everything will fall into place if he continues to follow the path that has led him there thus far.
But he doesn’t like to talk about that long lost lover. But it’s also true, that if someone was to ask if he’s in love, he would say yes. Very much so.
~
He still keeps in contact with Jonghyun occasionally. They meet at a café and talk over blueberry muffins and lattes during the weekend or sometimes after work. They don’t meet much though, because the amount of times Jonghyun has yelled at Taemin to “go out or something Jesus Christ you’re twenty one years old already stop living in the past” is almost laughable.
Jonghyun had become a singer; something he never would’ve dreamed of doing if not for his friendship with Kibum which actually helped boost his inner self, as their connections grew as well as the honesty. It’s a wonder if Kibum was ever satisfied with just friendship, but Taemin is afraid to ask because he takes a look at his lonely self, and already knows the answer.
~
He sips on coffee all day out of a cheap paper cup which permanently resides at his desk. Although, the styrofoam is durable enough to withstand the stains and rings of two hour sipping intervals throughout the day. His job has an okay pay, and he actually ended up buying a small apartment with an extra bedroom. He did this without really thinking too clearly, for he knows he never invites any guests over. But there’s a definite reason pushed to the back of his mind that he knows is strong, but is also way too sensitive to bring to light. He still has the dream, the crave of the small house. The ultimate bliss.
A few times Taemin found himself at the nearest bar, specifically for people with similar orientations, hunched over a perfectly full and golden glass of bourbon. He never has a sip; he only traces the crystal rim with his fingertips until it whirrs. Pondering his decisions, pondering his current state, pondering things he wishes would leave his mind once and for all; but still he ponders these the most. More than often, few men have asked Taemin for his number, or asked to buy him a drink. Though Taemin enters such places with the intent to possibly find a temporary distraction, he always refuses. He can’t help but compare them to that one person who resides in the back of his mind.
Because in reality, he doesn’t actually want anyone else. It’s all or nothing. He figures their relationship basically ended, though neither of them actually said the words. Even with this thought, he still feels that he’s cheating; not that he actually has the desire to be with another. Even when his grasp is around the icy glass of (untouched) alcohol, he still feels his grasp is instead on Kim Jongin’s warm skin.
