Ok, I have a few things to tell you guys. First of all, thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! They make me so happy every time I see them. Secondly, some bad news. Recently, I've found a lot of inspiration and passion for something else I'd love to write for. That sadly means that some of my inspiration for this fic isn't here anymore. I'm going to leave this fic posted because I might find a way out of this block eventually, but for now, I'm gonna take a bit of a long break from it. I want to apologize to all of you because I know authors shouldn't start things without finishing them, but I'd rather try again later rather than forcing it out now and giving you a crappy ending. So, for now, enjoy this chapter and I'll see about continuing this fic at a later date. :)-

-DAY 3, PART 2-

Newt, after changing into the more casual clothes he owned, which actually resembled Minho's style a bit, raced out to the deck as fast as he could without knocking somebody over in the hall. He was a sight, that was for sure; running about with his camera slung around his neck, squeezing past people with mumbled apologies. Once he'd finally found his way out to the deck, he paused to catch his breath. His fingers wandered up to his camera, holding the heavy item in place and settling into the familiar hold. He had to smile when he surveyed the deck, the wind stirring his hair and bringing the scent of the sea.

Everything was awash in sunlight. The sky overhead showed untainted blue and below, the ocean reflected it back as it whisked past the great ship. Newt ventured closer to the railing ringing the edge of the upper deck. Peering over the side, he watched in wonder as beams of sun glittered from the waves, thrown back up into the sky.

There was a bustle of people out on the decks of the ship this morning. Women in expensive dresses and tailored hats explored the upper decks, where most upper class would gather. A few men in casual, but expensive clothing greeted their wives with promises of visiting some unexplored area of the ship that day. Newt watched them for a few moments. They had no need to hide their love for each other. They didn't even realize how lucky they were.

Glancing away again, Newt busied himself with trying to find something to take a picture of. He'd promised to bring something back to show his family, after all. He didn't want to have dragged this heavy camera up here without getting something in return.

Taking a picture of the ocean felt cliche, but he positioned himself so that when he peered through the lens, he could see the prow of the ship cutting through the water. A few people would be in the picture too, milling about on the lower deck. That would look just fine in a newspaper or a magazine. He took the picture and was about to lift his head again, when he felt someone's hand brush over his shoulder.

"What brings you out onto the deck today, my good sir?" a familiar voice asked, full of play.

A delightful tingle raced down Newt's spine and a wide smile etched itself across his face. Ordering himself to look more presentable in front of other people, he composed himself before he straightened up. Minho, of course, was next to him, and looking smartly handsome in his usual trousers-and-button-down. "Can't you see I'm trying to work?" Newt asked snobbishly.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," Minho replied with a little gasp, hand splayed at his chest. "I didn't realize I was interrupting your picture-taking."

"You'd realize more if you weren't spending all your time talking," Newt quipped.

Minho flashed his signature smirk. "Perhaps you should take a few pictures of me," he suggested innocently. Then the innocence melted away when he sidled closer to Newt and added under his breath, "after all, you can't seem to look anywhere else."

"Minho, stop it," Newt almost giggled, turning his face away to hide his blush. "We're in public."

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot." Sighing regretfully, Minho retreated a safe distance away. But those dark eyes never moved off of Newt, making him feel blissfully warm inside. "We'll just have to go somewhere else then, won't we?"

Newt glanced around at the semi-crowded decks. It'd be hard-pressed to find anywhere private on a ship like this. "Where would we go?"

"I hear that Gally's paid our little band downstairs extra to stop by today for a bit of a party," Minho told him. The excitement in the gestures of his hands spoke of his love of music more than he ever could. He offered his arm the way a gentleman would a lady. "Want to join me?"

Chuckling at his antics, Newt fingered the lens of his camera. "I don't know... I'm not much of a dancer, I'm afraid."

"Then I'll have to teach you." This was spoken in a considerably lower tone than before, and when Newt met Minho's gaze, there was an intent there that he hadn't seen before. It made his toes curl in his shoes and his breath catch. Just the idea of dancing, up close to Minho, left him aching for it.

"I... All right," he conceded. One dance couldn't hurt.

Minho's answering smile was sure to make it worth it though. "Then, follow me," he offered, jerking his head toward the depths of the ship.

Gathering up his camera, Newt stayed close behind Minho as they maneuvered through the people wandering about on deck. A few of them cast curious glances toward Minho, as most of the passengers on the upper decks were of, well, upper class. Newt's heart rustled, preparing for Minho to be annoyed. But Minho didn't comment on the looks once and when they reached a door that would lead back to Newt's room, he dropped back to walk beside Newt with a smile.

Newt tilted his head to one side, puzzled. "You don't mind?"

"Mind what?" Minho asked, as they arrived at Newt's room and he fit the key into the lock.

"The way that they look at you." Newt bobbed his head back down the hall, toward the people they'd left out on the deck. "You can see it in their faces; they think you're...no good because you're lower class."

"I've learned to stop caring about what others think of me," Minho replied, resting a shoulder against the wall. "I know I'll never live up to their standards, but that's fine, because it's my life, not theirs." He toed at the floor. "I live the way I choose to and I don't regret it."

Smiling wryly, Newt pushed open his door. "Even if some of your choices could land you in prison?" he asked with a touch of humor. The smile vanished from his face when, after checking both ways down the hall, Minho darted in and pecked his mouth sweetly.

"Yes," he answered in a murmur, nose grazing across Newt's.

Newt hadn't even had time to feel afraid of someone catching them. Bashful, he ducked away with a shy little "oh," and disappeared momentarily into his room to put away his camera. When he emerged back into the hall, Minho was still waiting for him, tall and handsome with raven hair catching the light. Newt had almost been scared that he'd disappear; it was hard to believe that this wasn't a dream, that he was here and falling for a beautiful, talented musician who felt the same way about him. He ached to share this happiness with someone, but there was no one he could share it with but Minho.

Then, as Minho walked with their shoulders touching down the halls of the ship, a memory sparked in Newt's mind. He turned an excited smile on Minho. "Are we going to tell Thomas and Gally?"

"Tell them what?" Minho asked.

"That we're...you know..." Newt toyed with a button of his shirt. "Together."

"I don't see why we have to tell them." Newt, steps nearly faltered, as he couldn't help but be disappointed. Then Minho added in a lowered, suggestive tone, "let's let them figure it out when they see us."

"Oh?" Newt smoothed his hair in an attempt to hide the silly grin on his face. "How are you planning on getting them to do that?"

"Oh, please, Newt, don't doubt me." Minho placed a hand on his chest, as though hurt by Newt's words. "Once they see the way I dance with you, they'll have to know that something's up between us."

Newt once again felt that addictive thrill at the prospect of dancing with Minho. "You're assuming that I can dance," he warned.

"I'm not assuming; you are rich, aren't you?"

"Well...yes."

"Therefore, you have to know how to dance." Minho shrugged with a shoulder. "Classic upper-class behavior."

Newt scowled at him. "How do you know so much about upper class without actually being upper class?"

"You're all very easy to read," Minho answered flippantly. "Especially the ones that fall head over heels for poor guitarists." He emphasized his words with a discreet brush of his hand against Newt's. Newt's skin was instantly electrified.

"I'll have to try harder at hiding my thoughts, then," he replied, slightly breathy with Minho's proximity. "Or we'll be caught for sure."

By the time the two made their way back down to the shabby, lower-class rooms, the band was back in full swing and the floor was awash with people. It didn't make a difference that they were lower in rank than Newt; they still brought out their best dresses, suits, shirts, and ties, and danced with wild abandon that couldn't be found on the wealthy's dance floors. Newt brought a hand to his mouth, concealing a delighted smile, as a clarinetist exchanged a brief grin with the bassist to his right. Lively notes danced along with the people and cheerful talk radiated from every corner.

Newt's nerves hadn't quite settled yet, but this light atmosphere was certainly helping.

"There they are again," Minho remarked, pointing out at the swaying crowd. "I knew Gally couldn't stay mad at him for long."

Newt looked to where Minho was pointing and felt a twinge of warmth inside. "I see what you mean."

Amid the other dancers, Gally grinned roguishly, spinning a laughing Thomas in his arms. The two stayed close enough to touch, and to sneak sweet kisses between songs and let hands wander. They were just chaste enough to be seen in public, but with an air of suggestion in the way their eyes held each other and fingers grasped at clothing. A voice in the back of Newt's mind whispered, that could be you and Minho. It was a thrilling thought.

He was pulled from his mind when Minho cleared his throat pointedly beside him. Glancing over, he stifled a snicker as Minho straightened up dramatically and offered his arm. "May I have this dance?" he asked, polite.

"Why, of course." Newt accepted Minho's arm and let himself be guided out into the people. He was glad he'd worn less expensive clothes today. No strange stares were sent his way and for once, he felt as though he belonged here, among complete strangers. The anxious trembling of his heart calmed the moment Minho slipped an arm around his waist.

"You've never danced with a man before," Minho said, not bothering to phrase it like a question.

Newt shook his head.

"But you've danced with a woman?"

"Yes...?"

"Well then. You play the girl and I'll be your charming dance partner."

Newt sent him a flat look at that, but conceded, resting a hand on Minho's shoulder and letting Minho take the other in his. The song shifted into a slower melody, something Newt had never heard before, but that had a sleepy, waltzy feeling to it. He stepped into the moves at once, having had plenty of practice at family dinners and such. But it didn't feel the same way those dances felt. Those occasions were chaste, respectful, and taken seriously. This was...something else.

There was the press of Minho's hand at his lower back, their chests brushing every other beat, and the softness of Minho's hand in his. Newt danced a pace closer to Minho, close enough to lean in and set his head on Minho's shoulder. He felt Minho tense, then relax, hand sliding up Newt's back. Everything was lulled and muted. Newt closed his eyes and everything around them disappeared into a muffled slow background of noise. He felt nothing but Minho against him and heard nothing but Minho's heartbeat at his ear. If this was how the world vanished when one fell in love, then Newt could live in this blissful in-between forever.

His eyes opened when Minho gently pushed him back, guiding him into a sort of half-spin. Then he pulled him in, back flush to Minho's chest, and Newt dropped his head back onto Minho's shoulder. He didn't bother to hide it. He only cared about Minho breathing, "angel," into his ear and the hands roaming down his waist. Minho smoothed a palm across his stomach, lit fire beneath his skin. Their hips moved together to the music the way waves washed against the hull. Newt gasped softly when hands fell into his front pockets. Minho answered with the smallest whimper at Newt's fingers closing over his to keep him there. That was when Newt angled his chin up and Minho sank to meet him, and they were kissing.

They were kissing, and kissing, and kissing, and Newt refused to worry about need for air. He stretched up into it, on his toes, and reached up to curl a hand around the back of Minho's neck. Minho urged his lips apart and breathed in his gasps with teeth grazing across Newt's lower lip. It was the kind of kiss that should've been saved for behind doors. But neither of them found the need to care, because it was also the kind of kiss that was simply amazing, for it was meant for no one else. Minho's hand left Newt's pocket and cupped his jaw, little finger finding Newt's pulse point. Newt knew his heartbeat was racing and felt the smug curve of Minho's lips against his.

It was everything.

It wasn't enough.

Minho drew away just enough for a gasp of space to appear between them. His breaths were shaky and tickled Newt's lips. He had never longed for another kiss so badly. "Newt," Minho began, caution and some deep emotion tangled up in his voice, "I think I..."

He didn't finish because Newt had angled his head up and pressed a short, searing kiss to his mouth, stealing his words. When it was over, Newt whispered back, "me too."

"Do you want to...?"

"Yes. Anything with you."

"Is there somewhere we can go?"

Newt's mouth quirked. "My room."

"God, you're beautiful," Minho rasped, resting his lips at the bridge of Newt's nose and briefly closing his eyes.

They stumbled through the halls, dizzy with each other and mindless of being caught. Newt didn't remember where one step began and another ended. There was just Minho. Newt hadn't planned on being caught so easily in love, not after a mere three days at sea. But when they collapsed through his door and he heard it shut behind them, he stopped pretending that this was temporary. He couldn't give Minho up now and he didn't think he could in the future either.

This was going to be the end of both of them and they knew it.