Twins
No one could ever tell the Lee twins apart. Lee Taemin and Lee Taeyeon.
Born 2 minutes apart, the boy was the elder of the two.
Both had the same eyes, nose, upturned curl of the lips. It didn’t help that since young, both had their hair cut androgynously - it was neither long enough for a girl’s, nor short enough for a boy’s.
They had always been close. It might have been because since birth, they had never once been separated, or something stronger simply bonded them. Both were fiercely protective of the other. Since they were babies, they could sense if they were to be carried away from their other half and would begin to fidget or wail at the top of their little lungs. This was often enough to rectify the situation.
As toddlers, if they were in separate rooms and one heard the wail of the other, their caretakers learnt quickly enough that they would soon be scrambling after a crawling toddler, making his or her way quickly to the other room.
As they grew, the twins seemed contented enough to have each other for company. They thrived in the little cocoon of theirs, admitting few outsiders. At the same time, outsiders rarely dared intrude into the relationship; there was something so fiercely protective, so secretive and so private in the air surrounding the two that few dared venture in.
Yet, for all the mutual protectiveness, their parents grew concerned. Despite being the older of the two, the boy seemed to always trust what his younger sister said, following her lead. Of course, Taeyeon followed her oppa’s lead, but it was only when he took it. They never said it, but the parents slowly grew to sense something sinister about Taeyeon.
She never stopped caring for her brother. But when push came to shove, the ever-gentle Taemin was usually the one on the floor, biting his lips, holding back his tears. Taeyeon would never be the one behind the shove, but their closeness meant she was always close enough to witness it.
The parents slowly came to observe that as Taeyeon picked her brother up and helped brush the dirt off him, she would cast a look at the naughty offender - a look too quiet and too meaningful to comprehend. The abuser often ran off quickly, laughing, or at times, he would be made to mumble out an insincere “sorry”. In the latter situation, Taemin, sweet, gentle Taemin, would always be quick to forgive, smiling and saying, of course, they were still friends. Yet, all this while, Taeyeon would simply stand by her oppa, arms protectively around him, the shielding, glowering mirror image to the smiling boy, staring quietly at the offender.
And it would only be a matter of days, at most a week, before the parents would hear from Taemin how they had to search for that classmate’s favourite toy, or puppy. At times, they would hear from the teachers how last week’s offender had somehow fallen while playing, but no one knew how and they could only attribute it to the frequent scrapes and bruises children that age were known to get into.
But each time, they would find Taeyeon standing close by. While her brother would run to help the other child, Taeyeon merely stood there. There was no mistaking the same innocent look like that on Taemin’s face. But she just stood there, passively, quietly watching, watching, as things unraveled.
Then, she would run over to take her twin by his arm, pulling him away, back into their cocoon of two, shrugging innocuously if he gave her a bewildered look.
-
One day, Lee Taemin fell in love.
But it didn’t stop at that. No.
He fell in love with Choi Minho, sports star of the school, boyfriend of Krystal, the popular but catty head cheerleader.
Taeyeon watched, quietly, as always, at her oppa, standing beside her. She watched as he stared furtively at the athletes training on the field. She watched, silently, as Krystal would make her way onto the field, intentionally disrupting the training session just to publicly show all with eyes that Minho, star player of the team, most popular boy in school, was hers. Taeyeon watched, wordlessly, as Taemin would bite his lips, first white, then crimson, as he drew blood.
Months of this went by. Then Taeyeon watched again, as Krystal publicly broke up with Minho in the school cafeteria, sneering as he asked, then pleaded with her. She took it all in, Krystal’s dismissive wave of her hand, leaving Minho crushed, his teammates glaring at her, as she made her way out of the cafeteria into the red convertible of her new boyfriend, a rich college boy. All this, without so much as the slightest backward glance. Taeyeon watched the pain in her twin’s eyes, and the smallest glimmer of hope.
Then, week after week, Taeyeon watched, as her oppa tried, time and again, so hard to make his way into Minho’s sights. She watched as Minho began to accept the gentle boy as a friend, and she watched as he would join them at times on their walks home. Taeyeon watched as Minho grew closer to her oppa, she watched how he would ruffle the hair, cut the same length as hers, and she watched as cheeks on the face, so devastatingly like hers would flush pink, and eyes with the same curious blend of black and brown as hers, danced.
Taeyeon watched as the boy beside her blossomed, with each interaction, with each touch, and she felt something stab at her heart.
But one day, the ruffling of hair stopped, the walks home stopped and the avoidance began. Taeyeon stood, as she always did since they were little children, arms by her brother, protective, as he looked across the corridor at Choi Minho, star athlete in school. She saw the desperate, questioning, pleading look on her twin’s eyes, and she saw how Choi Minho knew he could no longer avoid those beautiful eyes. She saw how Choi Minho glanced at them, held it for a moment, frowned and brushed his gaze past them.
It was all over, before they even knew it started.
Taeyeon felt the shoulders her arms had tried to shield from the hurt droop. Throwing a poisonous look at the boy across the corridor, she took the lead, elbowing their way out of the crowd.
Hours passed and she decided enough was enough. Walking up to the teacher, she asked to excuse both herself and her twin from school as they weren’t feeling well. The teacher saw the steely gaze and granted his permission before he even knew what he was doing.
Taking both their bags, she held her twin’s hand as they walked silently down the now-empty corridors, hoping so hard the warmth of her hands could spread to his icy cold ones, hoping it would comfort him.
They came by a deserted classroom, and she heard the low voice, which had grown familiar over the past weeks but had painfully avoided them in the preceding days.
“I don’t know what to do!”
Before she could shoulder on, she felt her twin beside her turn to look through the crack in the door. She had always been the one to take the lead, but her twin was physically stronger. She had no choice but to look on at the disaster her female sixth sense told her would soon unfold.
She watched as the tall boy paced the room, his friend looking on, concerned. She heard his frustrated growls, and how he anxiously raked his long brown hair with his fingers.
“Why can’t you accept him?”, she heard his friend venture softly.
“B-but… he’s a boy!”
Taeyeon felt her twin crumble beside her.
And so she learnt: heartbreak and hurt, not just for one, but two, is what happens, when she let people into their circle, their cocoon of two.
-
She planned hard and laid out the blood red carpet carefully, invitingly.
She stood before the mirror on her dresser, watching numbly as the face, so much like her brother’s, was slowly made up. Detached, she watched as mascara was coated over those long eyelashes, and coal darkness, thicker than necessary, lined the eyelids.
She watched as the person in the mirror blinked once.
The beauty of it all surprised her. The person in the mirror blinked again.
It was perfectly, androgynously beautiful.
She silently admired the dark, sweet, cloying, dangerous loveliness in the mirror.
Show time.
She found him in the club. By then, he had obviously had quite a few drinks. Slouching, or rather, swaying in his seat, by the bar, she watched as he nursed yet another drink.
Making her way onto the dance floor, she made sure she was surrounded by enough people to draw the necessary attention, yet close enough to the bar for him to notice.
Moving to the beat of the music, which seemed to seep into the ground under them, she watched through lidded eyes, as his friends dragged him away from his drink on to the dance floor, barely a distance away from her.
She took in the shocked look on his face when he spotted her moments later, and saw the clockwork churning in his inebriated mind as he stared at her - from her made up face to the unmistakably feminine get up to the treacherous stilettos.
And she barely watched, as this time, she felt him stare, gape, unashamedly at her face again.
She had already imagined the look on his face.
The face was a mirror of the one he saw in school. But tonight was different. Usually innocent, the boy’s face now took on a dangerous edge. And there was something unambiguously female about it.
Yet, it was the same face. The face of the boy who haunted his dreams. The boy whose air of innocence drew him closer. The boy whose laughter echoed in his ears. The boy he wished he could hold in his arms. But for the fact that he was a he - a boy.
She felt her phone vibrating in her pocket, but didn’t bother to look at the contents of the message she just received. She could almost hear her twin, voice choked with worry, telling her he was almost there.
After all, just 20 minutes ago, she had sent him a message saying she was at the club, and she might… she just might have had a drink too many.
Closing her eyes, she swayed to the music, tousled hair and the throbbing lights above concealing the slow smirk on her lips.
She felt him closing the distance between them, and the awkward silence seemed to drown out the hypnotic music, as he just stood and stared at her.
“T-taemin… Is that you?” It was a wonder she could hear him over the din.
She pretended not to hear and gave him the look she had grown accustomed to seeing each day; the innocent, trusting look her brother gave her whenever she said she loved him.
“Taemin…”
She watched as tears welled up in his eyes. She watched as the alcohol in his blood melded her face with that of her brother’s.
Then, passively, she stared at him as he closed his eyes, one large hand reaching gently for her chin, tipping it, while another warm hand curved around her waist, pulling her closer to him.
Coldly, she stared, watching his face grow closer; hesitating for a moment, before closing the distance between their lips.
She remembered the shock, which registered in her, when she saw how his long eyelashes fanned across his cheeks. So beautiful.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a blonde figure, so much like hers, rushing into the club, searching in the crowd. And she noted with satisfaction that it quickly came to a stop, as the people who had previously obstructed them from the figure’s view moved away.
Minho grew acutely aware of the intrusion, and pulled away, confused. He looked at her, but saw that she was looking at something, or rather someone, standing near the entrance. He followed her gaze. She sensed the shock and confusion bubbling up his throat.
She watched with morbid fascination, as her twin stared at her, then at the shell-shocked Minho. Hours seemed to pass, the three rooted in their positions.
And then she watched, with a satisfied smirk, as Taemin blinked and stumbled out of the club.
Show’s over.
“Bye.” She said, without so much as a glance upwards, as she freed herself from the hand, which still clung around her waist.
When she closed her eyes, she saw those beautiful lashes, the huge trusting eyes.
She made a mental note to scrub hard, when she showered that night, where the hand’s warmth seemed to have singed her skin.
Sorry.
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once again, spur of the moment. i know there's a lot of repetition of certain phrases, but it was kinda intended that way. trying to convey some kind of cold passivity so i hope it wasn't too much! =)
somehow, i realize my messed up works tend to involve 2min. oops?
Born 2 minutes apart, the boy was the elder of the two.
Both had the same eyes, nose, upturned curl of the lips. It didn’t help that since young, both had their hair cut androgynously - it was neither long enough for a girl’s, nor short enough for a boy’s.
They had always been close. It might have been because since birth, they had never once been separated, or something stronger simply bonded them. Both were fiercely protective of the other. Since they were babies, they could sense if they were to be carried away from their other half and would begin to fidget or wail at the top of their little lungs. This was often enough to rectify the situation.
As toddlers, if they were in separate rooms and one heard the wail of the other, their caretakers learnt quickly enough that they would soon be scrambling after a crawling toddler, making his or her way quickly to the other room.
As they grew, the twins seemed contented enough to have each other for company. They thrived in the little cocoon of theirs, admitting few outsiders. At the same time, outsiders rarely dared intrude into the relationship; there was something so fiercely protective, so secretive and so private in the air surrounding the two that few dared venture in.
Yet, for all the mutual protectiveness, their parents grew concerned. Despite being the older of the two, the boy seemed to always trust what his younger sister said, following her lead. Of course, Taeyeon followed her oppa’s lead, but it was only when he took it. They never said it, but the parents slowly grew to sense something sinister about Taeyeon.
She never stopped caring for her brother. But when push came to shove, the ever-gentle Taemin was usually the one on the floor, biting his lips, holding back his tears. Taeyeon would never be the one behind the shove, but their closeness meant she was always close enough to witness it.
The parents slowly came to observe that as Taeyeon picked her brother up and helped brush the dirt off him, she would cast a look at the naughty offender - a look too quiet and too meaningful to comprehend. The abuser often ran off quickly, laughing, or at times, he would be made to mumble out an insincere “sorry”. In the latter situation, Taemin, sweet, gentle Taemin, would always be quick to forgive, smiling and saying, of course, they were still friends. Yet, all this while, Taeyeon would simply stand by her oppa, arms protectively around him, the shielding, glowering mirror image to the smiling boy, staring quietly at the offender.
And it would only be a matter of days, at most a week, before the parents would hear from Taemin how they had to search for that classmate’s favourite toy, or puppy. At times, they would hear from the teachers how last week’s offender had somehow fallen while playing, but no one knew how and they could only attribute it to the frequent scrapes and bruises children that age were known to get into.
But each time, they would find Taeyeon standing close by. While her brother would run to help the other child, Taeyeon merely stood there. There was no mistaking the same innocent look like that on Taemin’s face. But she just stood there, passively, quietly watching, watching, as things unraveled.
Then, she would run over to take her twin by his arm, pulling him away, back into their cocoon of two, shrugging innocuously if he gave her a bewildered look.
-
One day, Lee Taemin fell in love.
But it didn’t stop at that. No.
He fell in love with Choi Minho, sports star of the school, boyfriend of Krystal, the popular but catty head cheerleader.
Taeyeon watched, quietly, as always, at her oppa, standing beside her. She watched as he stared furtively at the athletes training on the field. She watched, silently, as Krystal would make her way onto the field, intentionally disrupting the training session just to publicly show all with eyes that Minho, star player of the team, most popular boy in school, was hers. Taeyeon watched, wordlessly, as Taemin would bite his lips, first white, then crimson, as he drew blood.
Months of this went by. Then Taeyeon watched again, as Krystal publicly broke up with Minho in the school cafeteria, sneering as he asked, then pleaded with her. She took it all in, Krystal’s dismissive wave of her hand, leaving Minho crushed, his teammates glaring at her, as she made her way out of the cafeteria into the red convertible of her new boyfriend, a rich college boy. All this, without so much as the slightest backward glance. Taeyeon watched the pain in her twin’s eyes, and the smallest glimmer of hope.
Then, week after week, Taeyeon watched, as her oppa tried, time and again, so hard to make his way into Minho’s sights. She watched as Minho began to accept the gentle boy as a friend, and she watched as he would join them at times on their walks home. Taeyeon watched as Minho grew closer to her oppa, she watched how he would ruffle the hair, cut the same length as hers, and she watched as cheeks on the face, so devastatingly like hers would flush pink, and eyes with the same curious blend of black and brown as hers, danced.
Taeyeon watched as the boy beside her blossomed, with each interaction, with each touch, and she felt something stab at her heart.
But one day, the ruffling of hair stopped, the walks home stopped and the avoidance began. Taeyeon stood, as she always did since they were little children, arms by her brother, protective, as he looked across the corridor at Choi Minho, star athlete in school. She saw the desperate, questioning, pleading look on her twin’s eyes, and she saw how Choi Minho knew he could no longer avoid those beautiful eyes. She saw how Choi Minho glanced at them, held it for a moment, frowned and brushed his gaze past them.
It was all over, before they even knew it started.
Taeyeon felt the shoulders her arms had tried to shield from the hurt droop. Throwing a poisonous look at the boy across the corridor, she took the lead, elbowing their way out of the crowd.
Hours passed and she decided enough was enough. Walking up to the teacher, she asked to excuse both herself and her twin from school as they weren’t feeling well. The teacher saw the steely gaze and granted his permission before he even knew what he was doing.
Taking both their bags, she held her twin’s hand as they walked silently down the now-empty corridors, hoping so hard the warmth of her hands could spread to his icy cold ones, hoping it would comfort him.
They came by a deserted classroom, and she heard the low voice, which had grown familiar over the past weeks but had painfully avoided them in the preceding days.
“I don’t know what to do!”
Before she could shoulder on, she felt her twin beside her turn to look through the crack in the door. She had always been the one to take the lead, but her twin was physically stronger. She had no choice but to look on at the disaster her female sixth sense told her would soon unfold.
She watched as the tall boy paced the room, his friend looking on, concerned. She heard his frustrated growls, and how he anxiously raked his long brown hair with his fingers.
“Why can’t you accept him?”, she heard his friend venture softly.
“B-but… he’s a boy!”
Taeyeon felt her twin crumble beside her.
And so she learnt: heartbreak and hurt, not just for one, but two, is what happens, when she let people into their circle, their cocoon of two.
-
She planned hard and laid out the blood red carpet carefully, invitingly.
She stood before the mirror on her dresser, watching numbly as the face, so much like her brother’s, was slowly made up. Detached, she watched as mascara was coated over those long eyelashes, and coal darkness, thicker than necessary, lined the eyelids.
She watched as the person in the mirror blinked once.
The beauty of it all surprised her. The person in the mirror blinked again.
It was perfectly, androgynously beautiful.
She silently admired the dark, sweet, cloying, dangerous loveliness in the mirror.
Show time.
She found him in the club. By then, he had obviously had quite a few drinks. Slouching, or rather, swaying in his seat, by the bar, she watched as he nursed yet another drink.
Making her way onto the dance floor, she made sure she was surrounded by enough people to draw the necessary attention, yet close enough to the bar for him to notice.
Moving to the beat of the music, which seemed to seep into the ground under them, she watched through lidded eyes, as his friends dragged him away from his drink on to the dance floor, barely a distance away from her.
She took in the shocked look on his face when he spotted her moments later, and saw the clockwork churning in his inebriated mind as he stared at her - from her made up face to the unmistakably feminine get up to the treacherous stilettos.
And she barely watched, as this time, she felt him stare, gape, unashamedly at her face again.
She had already imagined the look on his face.
The face was a mirror of the one he saw in school. But tonight was different. Usually innocent, the boy’s face now took on a dangerous edge. And there was something unambiguously female about it.
Yet, it was the same face. The face of the boy who haunted his dreams. The boy whose air of innocence drew him closer. The boy whose laughter echoed in his ears. The boy he wished he could hold in his arms. But for the fact that he was a he - a boy.
She felt her phone vibrating in her pocket, but didn’t bother to look at the contents of the message she just received. She could almost hear her twin, voice choked with worry, telling her he was almost there.
After all, just 20 minutes ago, she had sent him a message saying she was at the club, and she might… she just might have had a drink too many.
Closing her eyes, she swayed to the music, tousled hair and the throbbing lights above concealing the slow smirk on her lips.
She felt him closing the distance between them, and the awkward silence seemed to drown out the hypnotic music, as he just stood and stared at her.
“T-taemin… Is that you?” It was a wonder she could hear him over the din.
She pretended not to hear and gave him the look she had grown accustomed to seeing each day; the innocent, trusting look her brother gave her whenever she said she loved him.
“Taemin…”
She watched as tears welled up in his eyes. She watched as the alcohol in his blood melded her face with that of her brother’s.
Then, passively, she stared at him as he closed his eyes, one large hand reaching gently for her chin, tipping it, while another warm hand curved around her waist, pulling her closer to him.
Coldly, she stared, watching his face grow closer; hesitating for a moment, before closing the distance between their lips.
She remembered the shock, which registered in her, when she saw how his long eyelashes fanned across his cheeks. So beautiful.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a blonde figure, so much like hers, rushing into the club, searching in the crowd. And she noted with satisfaction that it quickly came to a stop, as the people who had previously obstructed them from the figure’s view moved away.
Minho grew acutely aware of the intrusion, and pulled away, confused. He looked at her, but saw that she was looking at something, or rather someone, standing near the entrance. He followed her gaze. She sensed the shock and confusion bubbling up his throat.
She watched with morbid fascination, as her twin stared at her, then at the shell-shocked Minho. Hours seemed to pass, the three rooted in their positions.
And then she watched, with a satisfied smirk, as Taemin blinked and stumbled out of the club.
Show’s over.
“Bye.” She said, without so much as a glance upwards, as she freed herself from the hand, which still clung around her waist.
When she closed her eyes, she saw those beautiful lashes, the huge trusting eyes.
She made a mental note to scrub hard, when she showered that night, where the hand’s warmth seemed to have singed her skin.
Sorry.
web counter
-
once again, spur of the moment. i know there's a lot of repetition of certain phrases, but it was kinda intended that way. trying to convey some kind of cold passivity so i hope it wasn't too much! =)
somehow, i realize my messed up works tend to involve 2min. oops?