-New chapter, finally! Thank you so very much for the incredible reviews and support. It means the world to me, really :) And I won't keep you waiting with my talking here, so read this already! XD-

It was April 15th and Newt was glad that it was a Sunday. It meant that he got to laze around his apartment all day in sweatpants and his favorite, black-and-white Maroon 5 T-shirt. It was also a pretty important date because it was his birthday. He was twenty-three years old.

"Eh, feels pretty much the same as being twenty-two," he muttered to himself, reclining back on his couch with a bowl of pretzels balanced on his crossed legs. Kitchen Nightmares was playing on an all-day marathon, and that was what was on his TV screen right now. Newt wasn't into big birthday parties or things like that. Since he'd moved away from home to work in the city, he didn't see his parents much (well, he didn't see his dad, ever, because he'd left them when Newt was three). His mom had called that morning, singing Happy Birthday into the phone and insisting that they must get together sometime to celebrate. Newt was going to go visit her the next day.

Newt wondered if he should tell her about his whole relationship with his boss, and was about to reach for another pretzel, when his cell phone vibrated. Barely looking down, he picked it up off the couch cushion next to him and tapped the ANSWER button. "Hello?"

"Are you busy?"

Newt broke into a wide, goofy grin at the sound of that low, smooth voice. "Minho?"

"Hey, Newt." He could hear the smile in Minho's voice. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing," Newt answered, unfolding his legs and setting the bowl of pretzels on the floor. He grabbed the remote and turned down the volume on the TV.

"Nothing? At all?"

"Well, it's Sunday. Why would I be doing anything?"

"I was just wondering." A hint of something like mischief entered Minho's words. "Think you can come over today?"

Newt brightened immediately. "Sure," he answered, trying not to sound too eager. He was already standing up though. "You want me to head over right now?"

"Of course," Minho replied. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Newt repeated, eyebrows rising. "What kind of surprise?" He couldn't imagine what Minho had planned.

"You'll find out when you get here," Minho told him, dodging the question easily.

Newt tilted his head back as he groaned. "Min, come on..."

Minho's chuckle rippled through the phone like wings beating. "I love it when you call me that."

"You're still not answering me."

"I told you how to find out yourself."

"Yeah, but it'd be easier if you just told me now. I hate surprises."

"You won't hate this one."

Newt snorted playfully. "I better not," he warned.

Minho laughed and the sound sent a little tingle over Newt's skin. "I can't wait to see you," Minho said happily, as though he'd forgotten himself and the words had broken through his calm exterior. "I mean, um," he stuttered afterward, and Newt nearly bounced on his toes in delight, "...just get over here." The last sentence was said warmly, before Minho hung up.

Newt wasted a whole thirty seconds beaming at his phone. Then he remembered he was supposed to be leaving right now and he hurriedly tossed his phone onto the couch. He changed into jeans before shoving his feet into his Converses and snagging his phone again. Shoving it into his back pocket, he walked out the door, being sure to lock it behind him. The last thing he needed was someone to break in while he was at Minho's. As he made his way out of the apartment building, he tried to imagine what this whole surprise could be. Surely Minho wouldn't plan something big or even public. People still didn't know about their relationship yet. So maybe it was something small. Just an evening together. Maybe.

Newt blew his bangs out of his face in exasperation. Great. The suspense was already killing him. He wasn't even halfway—

That was when he emerged out onto the sidewalk, into the warm, late-evening air, and halted when he saw the scene in front of him. A sleek, jet-black car waited in front of him on the road. Not being much of a car person, he didn't know what kind it was, but it looked kinda like a Really-Shucking-Expensive-Kind. The windows were tinted so it was impossible to see inside. As he gawked in awe, the driver's side door opened and a man stepped out. He was older, with gray, thinning hair and lines of age on his face. His eyes were a warm brown color and his smile was friendly. He wore a suit that matched the exact shade of that magnificent car. "You're Isaac Newton?" he asked, in a voice like deep bells.

The awe in Newt grew even more. "Uh...yeah?" He edged a step closer, confusion crowding in on his mind.

The man's smile widened. "I am Robert Charleston," he introduced himself, "but you may call me just 'Charleston,' if you want. I'm a personal driver." He reached out and pulled open the back door of the car. "And Mr. Park is expecting you."

Newt was pretty sure he'd never been more shocked than he was then. Minho had a personal driver? And he was outside Newt's apartment? AND he was going to drive Newt in this CAR? Newt decided it was probably best to not ask any of these questions out loud at the moment. "O—Oh," he stammered uncertainly. "Thanks."

He started toward the car, awkwardly at first, but more relaxed as he climbed inside. He returned Charleston's smile as he sat down. The older man closed the door and headed back to the driver's seat. As he got in, Newt examined the interior of the car in wonder. It was all black leather seats, and soft floors, and electric blue lighting. The leather was soft as butter and Newt ran his fingers over it. He couldn't believe that he was actually sitting in this car right now. A smile pulled at his mouth. He must really got it bad for me, he thought giddily.

He was about to find out how right he was.

-o-o-o-

It was the afternoon when Charleston pulled the car up outside of Minho's place. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, staining the sky creamy yellow near the edges of the pale blue. Newt gazed up at it as he climbed out of the backseat of the car. Charleston shut the door behind him and turned back with a smile. Newt had to smile back. "Thanks for the ride," he said politely, instinctively reaching out for a handshake.

Charleston waved a hand as though brushing the thank-you off. "Not a problem," he replied.

When he shook Newt's hand, though, Newt was surprised to feel something like metal press into his palm. Charleston just nodded once and turned away, heading toward a towering, beautiful apartment building; Newt assumed he lived there. Blinking, he looked down and opened his hand. A key laid in his palm, gleaming silver in the light. A little tag was attached to it with string and when he flipped it over, he found neat, flowing handwriting: HAPPY BIRTHDAY –MIN. Newt felt his jaw drop in astonishment. He stared at the key, then up at that sleekly powerful, luxurious car in front of him. Was this...was this really HIS?

"Charleston!" he called, but the old man was already gone, disappearing through the door of the apartment building. Newt gave up on going after him and glanced back down at that key. He still couldn't believe that this was his. He knew that Minho was a billionaire and probably bought this thing without thinking twice, but still. It was the most expensive gift Newt had ever received, just for his birthday. A grin was spreading over his face as he tucked the key into his back pocket and started toward the entrance of Minho's grand home. He was surprised to find that the door had been unlocked for him.

Inside, he closed the heavy, carven door behind him and paused with his back against it. In front of him, a short hallway led to the open expanse of the living room and kitchen. There was also that mysterious, ebony staircase twisting up into the upper levels. Newt took it all in for a moment, noting the golden glory of the sun in the wall of windows to his right. This place truly was beautiful and extravagant. He felt small and plain compared to it. A pang of doubt hit him briefly. Did he really fit into a life like Minho's?

"Stop thinking like that," he muttered to himself. It was thoughts like that that would cause trouble for him later. Sure, maybe he wasn't as wealthy or successful as Minho Park. So was everybody else. But Minho chose him.

Taking a breath, Newt stepped hesitantly forward down the hall. "Minho?" he called. "You in here?"

"Yeah, I'm here," a familiar voice called back from somewhere in the kitchen.

Newt heard the suspicious clatter of dishes and silverware. "What exactly are you doing?" he asked curiously.

He was about to round the corner and see, but at that moment, Minho appeared at the end of the little hallway. He was smiling in that cute way, with one side of his mouth, and leaning his shoulder against the wall. Newt paused and inwardly ordered his heart to remember how to beat properly. Minho looked good. Really good. His hair was, of course, spiked perfectly and gleamed almost-blue in the sunlight. It was still a shock to the senses to see him NOT dressed professionally for work; his dark jeans hugged his hips deliciously, and he wore the cutest, long-sleeved, blue shirt. A shining, silver cross on a thin chain hung around his neck. Newt wondered if Minho wore it all the time and Newt just hadn't noticed before.

Minho's good mood seemed to brighten even more when he saw Newt. "I was busy making your surprise for you," he explained, folding his arms over his chest.

"I thought I told you I hate surprises," Newt replied pointedly.

Minho shrugged. "I figured you'd make an exception if I was the one giving it to you."

"And why would you think that?" Newt asked. Slinging his thumbs in his pockets, he walked lazily over until he was right in front of Minho. Smirking slightly, he rested his shoulder on the wall too, mirroring the billionaire's position.

Minho watched what Newt did, an amused expression on his face. When Newt stopped mere inches away from him, Minho shifted like he wanted to touch the blonde. "Because you're here," he answered.

"So?" Newt raised an eyebrow challengingly.

Minho's smile turned devious. "And the last time you were here, you promised me something," he reminded Newt quietly.

Newt remembered that promise because sometimes, that promise kept him up at night with the memory of Minho's voice. He dropped his gaze to the floor coyly. "I don't think I remember what..." He trailed off when Minho uncrossed his arms and brought his hands up to Newt's face, cradling his jaw. Studying Newt's reaction carefully, Minho stroked his thumbs over the blonde's cheeks. Newt felt his eyelids droop and a long sigh left him. Minho drew in a tiny breath. "You promised that the next time you were here, I'd have you all to myself," he murmured. "No distractions." He leaned his forehead against Newt's.

Newt made a little sound as Minho's intoxicating scent slipped over him. "No distractions, huh?" he echoed.

"Just you," Minho murmured.

Newt smirked, but caught his lower lip in his teeth, to see Minho's reaction. Minho swallowed, staring at Newt's mouth like he wanted to be the one biting Newt's lip right now. "I think I'm a pretty big distraction," Newt said softly, "to you."

"You have no idea," Minho agreed breathlessly, before he crushed their mouths together. Without a second thought, he took the kiss deeper, parting Newt's lips with a gasp. Newt whimpered helplessly and clung to Minho's waist, fingers curling into his shirt. There was no way he could get enough of this, enough of Minho. Minho was too much of a drug, and Newt wanted more and more of him. After a few moments, Minho pulled back again shakily. His dark eyes were beautifully unfocused and it made Newt want to kiss him again and again. Suddenly, Minho's lips curved into a teasing grin. "Uh, Newt?"

"Hmm?" Newt hummed dazedly, lost in the feeling of holding Minho against him.

"You're kinda taking my shirt off," Minho told him.

Newt blinked and glanced down at where his hands had unknowingly tugged Minho's shirt halfway up his stomach. "O—Oh," he stammered embarrassedly. "Sorry." He let go and took a quick step back. He needed space between them. The air felt too hot when Minho was close and Newt couldn't trust himself around him.

Minho chuckled as he pulled his shirt back into place. The flash of olive-toned skin and the ripple of muscle made Newt tremble with want. To take his mind away from trying to strip Minho's clothes off, he slipped the key out of his back pocket. Holding it up, he gave Minho a questioning look. "What's this?"

Minho's lips curled up when he saw it. "A present," he answered simply.

"You really...bought me a car?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Newt fingered the key absently. "They're so expensive."

Minho stepped forward and placed a kiss on Newt's forehead. "That wasn't a problem for me," he murmured. "And besides, you're worth it." He stroked a hand over Newt's hair.

Newt grinned at the fingers carding through his hair. "You care about me that much?" he asked playfully.

"I care about you too much," Minho replied softly, trailing his fingertips down Newt's cheek. Then he seemed to remember something and put a bit of space between them. But his hand only slipped down to entwine with Newt's. "Come on," he said, gently tugging at Newt's hand, "I wanna show you your surprise."

Newt let himself be guided down the remaining expanse of hallway until they reached the open layout of the kitchen and living room. He blinked when he saw what was waiting there. The marble island had its two, elegant stools on either side of it, facing each other like old friends. On top of the island were two steaming plates of some, colorful dish Newt couldn't even recognize; but it smelled absolutely heavenly, like spices and meat and other, unknown ingredients. Both the living room and the kitchen were lit by the dying rays of sunlight and the flicker of several, fat candles in corners. The whole scene was terribly romantic and simply beautiful.

Newt glanced at Minho, a smile already spreading across his face. "You made this for me?" he asked.

"What, you think I can't cook?" Minho asked in return.

"Well..."

"Oh, shut up. I know we can't go anywhere in public yet, so I thought I'd come up with something else for you." Minho flitted forward and tenderly kissed Newt's cheek. "Happy Birthday, Newt."