multipurpose 2/2
multipurpose part 2
Everyone is more on edge than usual on this Sunday evening. The dining hall is a spotless white, with exquisite pink ribbons tied around chairs and balloons forming a canopy over spacious tables, contrasting greatly with the black mood of the staff.
Weddings are only joyful for the couple and their guests. It’s terribly tiring for everyone else making it happen. Taemin is late in serving the fifth course - lobster rolls - because a guest had asked for a change of plates and it’s chaos in the kitchen. Amidst shouting and bumping, Taemin had been yelled at for not serving the customers while he was frantically drying a wet plate. His smile tight across his face, Taemin feels his arms and lower back burning from stretching across the table to place the lobster rolls on the rotating glass - the distance is ridiculously far and not appreciated one bit when delivering a heavy plate.
As if they aren’t busy or frantic enough, the coordinators decide to dim the lights. Taemin strains his eyes to not step on anybody, peering with great difficulty over the guests’ shoulders to see if he needed to swap their plates. Blue lights flood the stage and there’s chattering all around, boys shouting in a corner and little children running around, bumping into his leg once.
Kibum seems to have everything under control, effortlessly tackling tables with a smile, serving with grace and poise, refilling glasses without being asked to, and Taemin nearly goes over to ask for some advice until JongHyun appears out of nowhere and they start kissing.
Assistant chefs are to help with serving because the waiters are short-handed. And that’s not a good idea with Jinki as an assistant chef. Taemin is straightening up from pouring champagne for a lady, bowing and cheeks aching with a fake smile, and he sees Jinki at the back, a big plate of cockles in his hands.
Even in the dim lighting, Taemin can tell Jinki is lost by the way his head is whipping about. Another corny love song blares when the current one ends, and as he approaches Jinki, it all plays out like a slow movie.
Jinki is beginning to walk again and the running children pops up from behind, cutting across his path and Jinki almost steps on a toddler’s foot. Taemin watches in horror as Jinki spins in a circle, avoiding the children and managing to set his foot on the ground again, plate tilting precariously as Jinki continues tilting back. The white cloth of the nearest table slips up midway, china and glasses shattering on the floor and Jinki and the plate of cockles disappear behind the table.
Grimacing, Taemin hurries over, glad that the table is unoccupied. The guests are cheering about something now and the emcee is obnoxiously loud over the song. Sauce and cockles are strewn over Jinki sprawled on the floor, and Taemin pulls him up, worried if he’s injured.
“You should never have served,” Kibum’s voice comes from behind and Taemin is pushed aside, the former taking his place with a mop.
“Sorry,” Jinki apologises.
“No time,” Kibum flicks his wrist, sticky sounds coming as he wipes the mess up. “Get a new plate for the guests. God, my nails.”
Finding their way in the darkness, Jinki wiping his face with serviettes, they walk straight into a shouting match. The voices spill out right as Taemin pushes the door open and he freezes along with the rest of the kitchen at two chefs, Kim Jung and Soo Man, yelling at each other, spatula and ladle jabbing in the air, fried rice and soup droplets flying all over.
Nobody dares to intervene because the head chefs are arguing, becoming increasingly louder, and while some waiters quietly leave the kitchen, to serve the prepared dishes, Taemin guesses, the others continue gaping openly.
“You’re not the only one tired here!” Soo Man shouts, getting out of his quarters and Kim Jung does the same.
The people near them scatters away, sensing the brewing fight and Taemin feels Jinki guiding him backwards, out of range. Kim Jung is jabbing Soo Man, the latter flinging his hand off, growling, “don’t touch me”, and the kitchen doors burst open.
Black whizzes past him before he can snap his head towards the door like everyone else. And suddenly Taemin is looking at a familiar back profile, talking quietly to the livid chefs. The chefs try to protest and blame each other and Minho just stands in place.
“Aren’t you a little too young?” Kim Jung spits at Minho and there’s a soft rustling as the engrossed waiters file out of the kitchen.
Taemin isn’t able to hear what Minho says except for a deep rumble and Jinki shrugs when Taemin glances at him. He just knows that it’s something Kim Jung really disliked, because he snarls at Minho and gives him a very disrespectful look, returning to his quarters. Minho claps Soo Man’s shoulder, while the latter seems somewhat pale, obediently nodding and going behind the soup pots again.
When Minho turns around and their eyes meet, there’s a strange hardness in the boy’s eyes Taemin isn’t accustomed to. Minho nods, stiff and odd and Taemin nods back, equally stiff and odd and he feels conflicted.
Later that evening, Taemin forgets about the encounter as he stands with his back against the wall, ready to refill the guests’ glasses. White light floods the stage now and the couple is standing beside a pyramid of wine glasses. The room explodes into cheers and claps, and Taemin finds the groom very dashing in his suit and the bride, absolutely gorgeous, glowing as she smiles in her white dress.
There’s a bubbling inside of Taemin’s chest as he watches the couple pouring champagne on the tip of the pyramid, letting the diamond liquid overflow, smiles bright and cheerful as everyone around them celebrates their marriage.
At the corner of Taemin’s eyes, he catches JongHyun and Kibum kissing, the diva yanking on JongHyun so hard his hands slap flat against the wall to stop from crashing into Kibum.
Taemin looks back at the couple and they’re grinning at each other now, pearly white teeth and perfect hair for their perfect day and Taemin knows the gleam in their eyes is unmistakable.
Definitely. They are in love.
Sapphire Sands is irrationally cold at night and sweltering hot in the day. It’s ten in the evening and Taemin is plodding along the beach, reminded of how stupid he is for not pulling on a sweater. He’s had to give up dance practice halfway with his phone ringing, his father assigning him the job of bringing Minho to the office.
“Huh?” is Taemin’s first reaction. His father’s helpers are all on errands at the moment, hence he needs to get him to do it. Taemin’s second reaction is a nervous churning in his stomach. When he asked if Minho is in trouble, his father’s answer completely misses Taemin’s question, telling him to concentrate on dancing and run this errand, hanging up after.
Huffing at the thought of his father’s curt phone call, Taemin feels lost in the middle of nowhere. The sea is crashing on the shore gently behind as Taemin looks beyond the wide road, illuminated by orange lights. His father had said that Minho stays in the lifeguard’s shack and it’s across the road from the third lifeguard outpost as he walks into the stretch of beach.
Not being able to see past the darkness, Taemin shivers in the cold breeze, jogging past the road. The residences rise up on the other side, and Taemin can barely make out an inkling of a wooden door amidst the vines and creepers crawling up the wall surrounding the houses.
Taemin thinks it’s ridiculous to have living quarters built into a wall meant to keep burglars out, but this is his father’s resort so he never knows. It might just be a circuit room anyway, Taemin thinks as he approaches the door, and he hears music - cheerful, pop music coming from the door and loud boy voices.
Somewhat disbelieving it, Taemin knocks. The voices stop for a short moment and there are a few sounds, thudding, clinking of cutlery, before the door swings open, bright light and party music spilling out onto the concrete walkway Taemin is standing on, momentarily blinding him.
“Taemin?” A familiar voice asks and before Taemin can reply, still adjusting to the brightness, he’s pulled inside.
Forcing his eyes open, Taemin finds himself in a cosy living room, full of tanned guys. Two are stuffing dinner at a small table, pausing to regard him. A few are in the corridor that leads, Taemin guesses, to the kitchen, playing and spraying water at each other. Couches are crowded beside him, around a tiny television and many boys are sprawled over it, all looking at him. The place smells like seawater, popcorn and sand, and it’s cramped, really.
“That is a fine piece of -” A sharp-nosed boy begins, before a cushion smacks into his face.
Following the cushion’s path, Taemin finds striking large eyes and spiky black hair, laughing and bringing his arms up to block a returned projectile.
“What’s your problem, man?” The boy pipes up and the rest of the guys start murmuring among themselves, some bored, some entertained, some watching the television.
“You’re always so...” Minho trails off laughingly.
“Horny,” Another guy answers and the boy shouts “yah!”, clambering onto the guy’s back and squeezing his shoulders.
“What’re you here for?” The person who brought him in asks over the noise. Taemin glances up and almost does a double take.
“JongHyun hyung!” Taemin blinks and JongHyun flashes his megawatt smile. “Uh...Mr. Lee wants to see Minho.”
The room falls silent and Taemin glances at Minho nervously. There’s a general rumble of consent among the boys, a few patting him on the back as he gets up and walks towards Taemin. Minho keeps turning back to the rest of the lifeguards, laughing at jokes Taemin didn’t get and hugging JongHyun on their way out, and Taemin becomes a little awkward.
But when Minho looks at him, he relaxes and feels at home. A large hand automatically ruffles his hair and slides to the back of his neck, and Taemin really needs to get out into the cold again because his face is burning red.
It’s very quiet after Minho shuts the door behind them and Taemin finds his ears a little blocked. The crickets are awake and a sense of calm settles inside Taemin as he walks beside Minho on the path, a gentle crashing on his left.
“Are you cold?” Minho asks, looking down at him and Taemin is sure he’s becoming a dizzy schoolgirl.
“No,” Taemin lies, a tickling building in his nose, their shoulders bumping naturally. “Don’t you have lock-up duty?”
“It’s not eleven yet. I just ate dinner,” Minho says and Taemin hears him chuckle when his nose itches so much he sneezes.
Taemin’s stomach squirms as an arm winds around his shoulders, pulling him close. It’s uncomfortable and difficult to walk, jammed into Minho’s side like that, but Minho is warm and he smells like the ocean and hazelnut.
“You smell like hazelnut.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah.”
“Well then...” Taemin looks up at Minho, who holds amusement in his eyes. “You smell like Taemin.”
Taemin jabs Minho’s stomach at the unsatisfactory answer, stumbling as the boy crouches from the attack. Taemin finds Minho’s scent intoxicating, he’s breathing deeply, memorising how warm Minho is, how he is so small beside Minho.
“You can’t say that,” He complains. “How do I smell?”
“Nice.”
Sometimes Minho makes Taemin want to roll his eyes. Suppressing a grin Taemin continues. “What do you think my dad wants?”
“No idea,” The boy says nonchalantly, and Taemin scrunches his nose in annoyance, but decides not to prod.
“Where are you going after summer break?” He asks and Minho faces him, eyebrows rising in the middle like he’s wondering why Taemin has so many questions.
“I’ll tell you after this,” Minho says and he realises they’ve reached the longhouse.
Twenty minutes has passed since Minho forced Taemin to sit in the hallway’s couch. There’s a garden in front of him, with a bamboo water feature. The sky made its ceiling and Taemin smells the sea breeze. He’s fidgeting in his seat, feeling petulant and restless. Taemin can’t zone out by watching the bamboo fill up with water, tipping over and straightening up to be filled again. He’s been adjusting himself, from tilting his head back over the armrest, to propping his feet on the coffee table, to hanging upside down from the chair.
Curiosity finally getting the best of him, Taemin gets up from the couch quietly, creeping along the wall towards his father’s room. Low voices drift into the corridor and Taemin freezes, listening hard.
“Have you updated the accounts?” Mr. Lee asks.
Padding of footsteps, the sliding of plastic on plastic and the flipping of papers.
“These are the expenses of the month so far,” Minho’s voice says and Taemin’s heart skips a beat. “Profits here and stock count here.”
“For the resort’s goods and merchandise,” Mr. Lee confirms and Taemin guesses Minho nods.
Then it strikes him for the first time and Taemin reels.
All his free ice creams.
His mind is working in overtime and his stomach lurches. If Minho has been giving him free ice creams all these while, the accounts will be messed up. The stocks and profits and losses all won’t tally and Minho will be in trouble and Taemin’s mind blanks. His father is extremely strict and impeccable with things like these.
For a terrifying minute, there is silence and Taemin can only hear blood pounding in his ears. Ruffling of papers again and Taemin is so close to bolting into the room and admitting to forcing Minho into giving him free ice cream - and because it’s just ice cream Taemin thinks it sounds completely lame and absurd but his father is super anal about -
“Good,” Mr. Lee’s voice says and he sounds pleased. “Good. I’m proud, Minho. I’ve really done right this time.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lee,” Minho says and Taemin is stuck for a moment before he manages to shake his head, blinking away the confusion, scrambling back to the couch.
His father’s laughter drifts into the hallway and Taemin is more than baffled - and maybe a little bit jealous because his father rarely laughs with him, unless he does something embarrassing like fall on his face.
Taemin waits a little more and when Minho emerges from the dark, he is on his feet before the boy can ask him to get up. Minho’s eyes are wide at Taemin’s erratic movements and - damn it, he’s so tall - Taemin tugs down on Minho’s arm to whisper into his ear.
“Didn’t my ice creams mess up the accounts?”
Minho straightens up, eyes now accusing at Taemin and Taemin scratches his head, realising he just admitted to eavesdropping. “Sorry,” Taemin apologises, knocking the toes of his right shoe on the wood.
He looks up when Minho sighs, a large hand resting heavily atop his head, and he’s pressed into the boy’s side again as they walk.
“Who do you think pays for your ice cream?” Minho finally says and Taemin takes a second to understand it. The hand resting on his head makes it to look up at the boy in shock.
Minho chuckles then, pinching his nose as they step out into the night, and Taemin is left staring at the older boy, too stunned to say or react - even when the large hand messes with his hair.
The moon is bright and the galaxy is ablaze with stars. Taemin smells the ocean and hazelnut and since words are failing him, he settles for snuggling into Minho instead, flushing furiously as he grips the older boy's waist tentatively.
His face burns incredibly hot when Minho pulls him closer.
Sapphire Sands becomes as normal as it gets for the remaining of summer break. Taemin slips into a routine without even realising, waking up to a rush with Kibum shrilling and Jinki falling all over their dorm. He will struggle with his uniform, Kibum yanking his hair out to tie it and although it hurts, there’s no time to complain because before his left shoe is on, they are already fumbling along the car park for breakfast duty.
Serving the same people for close to a month, Taemin’s come to remember the families that stay in the resort. It’s common knowledge among everyone which the tables belonged to which family, like everyone’s related in Sapphire Sands.
In the corner, there is a large man that gobbles three omelettes before asking for a change of plates - which he doesn’t anymore because Taemin whisks his plate away by then, already familiarised with the customers’ eating habits. They exchange smiles, between the patrons and staff, and even though every waiter’s apron still becomes horrifyingly dirty, everybody’s too busy and having too much fun to care - even Kibum, who still manages to hold conversations with the customers.
Occasionally, Taemin takes the initiative in ordering omelettes for the large man, earning tips. He only does it when there are large eyes and spiky black hair behind the egg counter.
Taemin likes watching Minho cook, likes to stare at the boy because Minho becomes flustered when people stare at him cooking. Taemin likes the little pout Minho does after a bad flip, egg splattering across the hot plate, and he winces as Minho raps his head with a knuckle, blaming him. When Taemin doesn’t order (because Darwin is behind the counter instead) - the large man will ask him why jokingly and he can only grin in response.
“You’re not doing it right,” Kibum says once during beach clean-up, stealing ice cream out of Taemin’s cup. “If you have a guy, you make use of him.”
“What?” Taemin asks, unsure if he heard right.
“See this?” Kibum brings his arm up to Taemin’s face, a silver bracelet on his wrist. “JongHyun’s money. I can’t believe you paid for the ice cream.”
This conversation happens after Taemin’s first time rejecting Minho’s free ice cream. He had to literally twist Minho’s wrist out in order to press a five dollar bill into the boy’s hand. Minho began protesting then, mentioning staff discounts and Taemin’s position and how he’s been giving free ice cream for so long already it really didn’t matter - all without listening to Taemin’s ‘no, no, no’s.
Minho shuts up only after Taemin sticks a spoonful of vanilla into his mouth.
Taemin knows Minho is at beach duty whenever Darwin is behind the egg counter, all circle-rimmed glasses and neat gelled hair, at breakfast. Taemin thinks he knows what Minho does at beach duty - either in the yellow shack serving fruit punches, or frolicking with his lifeguard’s board.
But he realises he doesn’t know everything after all, on a Monday afternoon. He and Kibum are crossing the beach after breakfast, going to replace spare shirts in the customers’ closets. Jinki spends the entire day in the kitchen now.
The golden stretch is crowded as usual, full of impeccably tanned adults and a few screaming children. Mats and towels are strewn everywhere while balls and Frisbees cut across the air. The sun is scorching, and as they made for the building, Taemin feels himself sweating and his nose peeling.
Then a dog barks. Kibum tenses beside him, and more barking follows.
Turning around, Taemin stops at the sight of two golden retrievers bounding towards him, tongue flapping happily, leashes dragging Minho behind them. Kibum retreats backwards as they approach and Taemin notices a few girls on the sand lowering their shades as Minho stumbles past. He is, after all, topless. There’s a strange gnashing in Taemin’s chest. He feels irritated for some reason and he wants to smack the girls upside their heads.
“Just thought I’d say hi,” Minho informs them after commanding the dogs to sit, much to Kibum’s relief.
“You’re a dog walker now?” Taemin asks, trying not to frown even harder because he’s already squinting in the sun.
“They’re part of the team,” Minho pats the dogs affectionately, getting down on a knee and scratching their chins. View not blocked by Minho any longer, Taemin sees people staring behind. “We need to let them run -”
“Why are you topless?” Taemin blurts and Minho looks at him, confused.
“Uh...because I might need to save somebody?” Minho answers uncertainly, getting up.
Twisting around, Taemin wrenches a shirt out of Kibum’s grip, the latter hissing about being scratched. He holds the shirt out, feeling like he’s being ridiculous but he’s only seventeen and very much a child. “Put this on.”
Minho’s eyes are wide and blinking in question.
“I don’t care,” Taemin says like a complete brat, swiping away hair sticking to his face. “Put it on.”
So Taemin feels a little guilty and a little unreasonable as Minho takes the shirt, looking like a kicked puppy, puzzled at what he’s done wrong. Minho reluctantly pulls it over his head and Taemin’s eyes scatter then, clearing his throat and combing fingers through his hair - face on fire.
“Dude, it’s the beach,” Some guy shouts from the side and Taemin glances up to find Minho sufficiently covered, skin contrasting with the white tee. “Why are you wearing a shirt?”
“My boyfriend’s jealous,” Minho answers and Taemin’s mouth drops.
“I’m not your boyfriend!” He exclaims, pushing the boy.
Minho, Taemin finds, can be incredibly obnoxious - especially then, where he grins and ruffles his hair before jogging off with the dogs.
Kibum is no exception.
“Somebody’s a jealous little bitch,” Kibum comments dryly.
Taemin gaps at the diva then. The latter simply shrugs in response, very much like the whore that he claims to be.
Later in July, the system goes through some reforms, and Taemin finds himself rolling a cart of clean bed sheets into rooms, coming out with dirty ones. Somehow, his previous suggestion on the resort’s human resource handling had reached the important people and it’s been approved and implemented.
Minho doesn’t tell Taemin who he is when he asks. They carry out the duty together, and when Taemin tries to dig for information, Minho pulls a sheet of white fabric over Taemin’s face. He struggles and kicks and eventually ends up tangled in cloth, suffocating with it stretched tight across his nose. He yells and it comes out muffled. He wriggles like a worm and he gets even more annoyed at Minho’s laughter.
As Minho pulls the fabric apart, freeing Taemin’s arms, his fingers make for the nearest pillow. The older boy yelps when Taemin pounds the pillow into his head, bringing up hands to stop the assault. And Taemin enjoys only a few seconds of victory before Minho straightens up, scowling with a pillow suddenly in his hands. Minho hits hard and Taemin, laughing and breathless, honestly stands no chance.
The room is noisy with Taemin’s squealing and Minho’s shouts, pillow colliding with arms and back and legs. It all ends with Taemin pushing his pillow futilely against Minho’s, exhausted and giddy, and the older boy continues advancing until Taemin is squashed between a wall, and their pillows. Minho says ‘I win’ then, and Taemin rolls his eyes, despite smiling, at his incredible competitiveness.
But times when Minho has other jobs to attend to, Taemin ends up working alone through three levels.
He isn’t bothered by needing to do twice the work. It’s just that Taemin hears the cloth smoothing out under his hands. He hears the springs creak and he hears laughter and splashing floating in through the open windows of each bedroom. He doesn’t swing pillows around and it feels weird without bumping into somebody as he tucks bed sheets under mattresses. The rooms feel like his dance track on repeat.
Time feels like its lying as he finishes half an hour earlier than with Minho. That can’t be right, because those have been the longest shifts yet.
Sometimes Minho goes to the gym after a day of work, so Taemin doesn’t get any homework done. He either sleeps early, making Kibum very happy by turning off the nightlight (beauty sleep comes easier), or stays up late staring at his homework.
Jinki comes home close to midnight, smelling of oil and spices, and Taemin is too sleepy by then to absorb anything. Instead of getting help from Jinki, he ends up being tucked into bed, accomplishing nothing that evening except listen to Kibum talk about JongHyun and making shopping lists.
But on nights where Minho is downstairs cleaning the pool, Taemin begs Kibum to let him out of the house - it isn’t that hard, really, Kibum always gives in - and he will settle into the same seat at the same table, chlorine and sea breeze in the air, grinning with all his homework.
By the pool, the only sounds are crickets and the sloshing of water. Taemin does his work easily - seeking help with sums he isn’t sure of. It always begins, the silence breaking, with simple questions about Minho’s day, himself giving simple answers to identical questions. Minho is interesting, he is intriguing, replies short and vague, and Taemin finds himself putting down his pen to look at the boy. There is a kind of amusement in Minho’s eyes as they talk. About the dirty kitchen, his fingers pruning as he washes the dishes, about how he feels lonely without Minho changing sheets with him.
And Taemin sees Minho’s smile tilt awkwardly when they are comfortable enough and the place is quieter than it has ever been. The boy mentions bits and pieces of things bothering him. Someone not listening to instructions or a difficult customer; it’s always in a mumble like he doesn’t think it’s important enough to talk about.
Taemin hears it in his voice - barely noticeable - but it wavers, when Minho tells Taemin about a possibility of him entering management, when Minho tells Taemin about lifeguard duty. He’s uncertain of being trusted with somebody’s life, uncertain about what he should do after summer break.
The night is cold and the aluminium chair, hard and uncomfortable. Taemin tries to show Minho that he’s not alone, that he’s also uncertain about dancing, uncertain about being able to get into his school - he can’t even get the audition piece right, uncertain about not wanting to take after his father.
Minho smiles then, small and thankful, and something bubbles in Taemin’s chest. His hand finds Minho’s, and there’s a soft heat that spreads through the contact.
They are both afraid of the choices they need to make, both still very much children. Taemin’s fingers go between long ones and suddenly, they are holding hands.
Just friends, Taemin thinks.
Despite being exhausted as he slips into bed, sometimes Taemin doesn’t sleep. He stays awake behind a tall oak chair, seeing different pairs of faces seated on mahogany stools with a myriad of expressions. Sometimes the lady cries and sometimes the man cries. Sometimes it is both men and sometimes it is both women, and Taemin wants to close his eyes as they accept his mother’s file.
Except he can’t because he’s dreaming.
He thinks of them sometimes. He wonders if they are doing fine, wonders if they’ve found somebody else already, moved on with life. And he becomes scared. It’s a painful thought at two people, previously closer than anybody else, regarding each other as strangers on the streets - how did it all go wrong, how it could happen to anyone.
And Taemin tells himself to protect his friends well - protect himself well.
Aside from the usual technical advice, Mr. Jung has stopped making any comments during dance now. Taemin will spin and jump and pop in front of the mirror, becoming more inclined with the choreography, and Mr. Jung simply watches with his arms folded, displeased.
Taemin feels like a joke as he performs in front of Mr. Jung. Everything he does isn’t good enough and Taemin’s ankles are swelling and his toes bleed sometimes after lesson. Taemin doesn’t whine, he doesn’t complain about trying so hard and yet still not getting it - because to him, if he doesn’t have it, it just means that he has to try harder.
But sometimes it gets a little too tiring.
Hours merge with hours into nothing but a memory that burns deep in Taemin’s chest. Only the music he’s beginning to detest, the beat and count, and the look of dissatisfaction reflected on the second mirror from the left.
After Mr. Jung has left with a customary ‘good work’, Taemin collapses into the bench. His limbs refuse to move because they hurt so much, his joints are burning and Taemin’s neck pops every time he shifts. All the time spent spinning in frustration and collapsing and bruising collects deep inside of Taemin in the quiet and he gets increasingly irate with himself. The silence is deafening and as he stands to practice more, his legs give way and he falls back on the bench with a clatter.
Everything becomes glassy but nothing ever falls from Taemin’s eyes - it’s not for long before the door clicks open with Minho popping his head inside, eyes big, wary if he’s interrupting anything and softening when he looks at Taemin.
He returns to his room on Minho’s back nowadays. They still talk about the littlest things, under the tiny stars on an island that never seems to rain, and Taemin still turns light as he smells hazelnut and the ocean.
Taemin tells himself to protect his friends and himself well but deep inside, he knows it’s already too late. This one session proves it all.
The door didn’t click open and Taemin’s chest is flaring painfully. He forces himself to stand and a knife runs up his leg. When he falls at the door after stepping too hard on his left foot, Taemin feels useless and helpless and lousy all at once.
“Taemin!” Someone shouts from down the hallway and suddenly Minho is on a knee, in front of him.
“Yeah, where were you?” Taemin bursts without understanding the words spilling out, hot and teary and ashamed. “The gym? The pool? What next, washing cars?”
Almost immediately, he registers what he has said, and his mouth opens a few times, failing to get anything out. Minho seems equally surprised, staring and blinking.
“Actually, cleaning the gutters,” Minho finally answers and it’s Taemin’s turn to stare. “No, really.”
A stick is held up to Taemin’s face and he recoils back at the decomposing leaves nearly touching his nose.
Taemin is on Minho’s back when the older boy says, “so, you always need me to pull you out of the studio, huh?”
“...Sorry. I didn’t mean what I said just now,” Taemin mumbles and Minho’s chest vibrates against his hands. They walk in silence and Taemin grimaces at his previous outburst - it’s not like Minho’s obliged to do any of this - he wants to crawl into a hole and die. He is extremely embarrassed.
“You don’t have to get into that school,” Minho says abruptly. “A group isn’t more important than a person.”
“Are you randomly saying this to cover the awkwardness?”
“Not really. Just concerned.”
This time, Taemin flushes for a different reason, and although he brushes it off, he knows that it’s definitely too late.
Routines never last at the resort, and it all breaks one afternoon with Minho dragging Taemin out of the kitchen, leaving Kibum shrilling about being abandoned in hell. Taemin stops protesting only after Minho assures that nobody will get into trouble; he has no schedule because of a seminar later, and not many waiters are needed since very little tourists are left. Summer break is ending.
Sunsparkles dance across the ocean stretching by their feet. It’s a deeper blue than Taemin’s ever seen as they walk, his palms sweating against Minho’s, and he’s never seen fluffier clouds.
Something warm glows inside of Taemin as he steals glances at Minho, catching the older boy doing the same. Unlike him, who turns his full gaze onto the older boy, Minho averts his eyes and pretends to be looking at something else instead. Taemin bumps him into the surf then, and Minho cries out laughingly, seawater soaking his jeans.
Retaliating, Minho yanks on Taemin’s hand and his arm almost pops out of his shoulder as he stumbles into the water, splashing noisily. Now Taemin’s pants are wet and his shoes are heavy and Minho’s already halfway down the coast, splashing away from him like a kid.
In the distance, there are houses built on stilts Taemin hasn’t noticed before. Minho tells him those are the expensive apartments only very rich people can stay in. Ambling along the quiet stretch of beach on the island, they make a ruckus with their laughter and water fighting, Taemin shrieking when Minho’s fingers bury into his sides.
Nobody comes here because the sand is coarse and hard, and the place is smaller than it already is, with a cliff at one end.
Which they are approaching.
“What do you think we can find there?” Minho juts his chin towards the cliff. They are walking in the water, both not minding anymore after their shoes and pants got drenched.
“A cliff?” Taemin hazards a guess and his chest jumps a little when calloused fingers scratch the inside of his hand. Minho simply grins at him, leading them towards the cliff faster.
Soon, they are stepping on sunset red flats. Waves are coming in gentle but it’s slippery and Taemin thinks he’s gripping Minho’s hand so tight it hurts for him. He sees multicoloured shells and little crabs scuttling along the gaps of the flats when he looks down, trying not to fall. The smell of seawater is overpowering.
Wet flats changes into damp soil and Taemin looks up for the first time, blinking and letting his eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. The sky is missing. Glancing around, Taemin finds rugged rock surrounding them, all around, save for the narrow entrance they entered from.
“A sea cave,” Minho says and Taemin faces him, still fumbling with the special place.
“Wow,” Taemin breathes intelligently, noticing pearl white shells in the walls and by his feet. The sea is endless out of the narrow entrance, rich and deep, beautiful blue, and thumbs are brushing the back of Taemin’s hands.
“Erosion,” Minho begins and Taemin looks at the older boy talk, completely gentle. “During low tide, the sea digs into this cliff. Over time, it digs deep enough to form this.”
“It doesn’t last forever,” He says and Minho raises his eyebrows amusedly at his knowledge. “It’ll eventually collapse after being eroded too much. Geography.”
Minho smiles at that and it’s contagious. Taemin is happy, inexplicably happy, and he says truthfully, “I think it’s cool that you’ve brought me here.”
Hazelnut and the ocean wafts up his nose and Taemin can feel Minho’s warmth. “What’s cooler,” Minho’s face is close, Taemin’s palms are sweating and he knows what’s happening. “Is that you’ve followed me.”
For a second, as Minho’s lips brush against his, Taemin’s mind blanks. His heart is caught in his throat and his fingertips are tingling. It is bright behind his eyelids and he doesn’t even wonder why he can’t hear the crashing of waves.
Oak chair. Crying faces. Halfway down the hall, voices spilling out.
“So it’s mine to deal with!”
Like electricity, Taemin jerks and his hands fly out, shoving Minho’s shoulders - shoving Minho off. His heart is pounding fast, and he’s heaving. Minho’s eyes are wide, clouding with hurt and confusion, and Taemin swallows thickly.
“I-I can’t,” He needs to protect their friendship.
He’s sure it’s the correct thing to do, but he feels something splintering into pieces inside of him as he watches Minho’s features settle. The older boy’s eyes are questioning, pleading for an explanation.
“Relationships erode don’t they?” The words almost jumble up and Taemin instantly regrets pushing Minho away. It shouldn’t feel like this. “Like this cave and it’ll collapse and be destroyed and it’ll become part of the sea.”
He isn’t making much sense, he knows, and he wishes that it’s all a bad dream. He feels horrible, it’s the correct thing to do - protecting himself and them - but it feels absolutely wrong. He is guilty. His chest constricts as Minho stands up, throat moving up and down.
There is fire in his stomach when Minho steps past him wordlessly.
“Taemin!”
Breaking out of his stupor, Taemin barely registers the pink liquid brimming in the cup he’s holding. Quickly jamming the juice dispenser, Taemin bites back a curse as sticky guava punch slosh out of the cup, onto his hands and floor.
“What’s wrong with you, Taemin-ah?” He sets the cup down and finds Jinki looking at him concernedly.
“Nothing,” He lies, turning away.
“Alright, who did this?!” Kibum shrills from behind. Taemin spins around, seeing the diva holding up a ketchup bottle in each hand crossly - and Jinki giving him a stare that meant he knew everything. There’s a low murmuring of denial among the staff and they unfroze, continuing with their jobs.
“Kibum hyung,” Taemin brushes past Jinki and says lowly. “It was me.”
“You did your job, great,” Kibum says caustically. “There’s only one problem. You didn’t differentiate between chilli and ketchup. Now I need to wash all the tomato bottles you refilled because they’re all spicy!”
“Sorry, hyung,” Taemin apologises, listless and distracted. “I’ll help you wash them.”
Kibum mumbles something and snaps, “Fine, fine, fine, never mind. Just don’t do it again.”
At the breakfast table, there’s a buffet counter, which Taemin avoids at all costs now, and ala carte orders that the chefs in the kitchen will deal with. Taemin had asked to be a kitchen waiter, but after relaying the wrong orders twice, Jinki had forced him to take a break.
He doesn’t think of anything as he stones in the staff lounge. There’s a growing impatience eating away at him and he can’t get anything that isn’t dancing right.
Taemin never says anything but it’s not like he can hide anything from Kibum and Jinki.
A week before summer break ends, Taemin realises that hot baths are good. It’s scalding and it helps him relax, until Kibum pounds on the toilet door without end. The pounding continues through him turning the shower off, continues through him hastily drying himself and continues through wearing his clothes messily.
When he finally opens the door, Kibum commands him to sit on the toilet bowl and tell him everything. Of course, Taemin doesn’t. At least, not until Kibum locks the door behind him and threatens to keep them inside for the entire night.
So Taemin lets Kibum prod, and he guesses somewhere inside of him, he’s been wanting to confide in somebody. He tells Kibum they kissed (the diva gasps at this) and tells Kibum what he thought of, tells Kibum what he did (the diva gasps again and Taemin almost punches him).
“Why did you do that, Taeminnie?” Kibum asks and Taemin is so glad everything’s out, the diva’s face becomes blurred.
“I don’t know. It’s just -people don’t stay together,” A weight lifts from his chest, only to settle back just as fast. “Even my parents fight. Better friends than nothing right?”
Kibum strokes his hair affectionately and Taemin manages not to cry. “Don’t be afraid to love, Taemin.”
For the next few days, Taemin keeps himself as busy as physically possible. Cigarette butts, wrappers, abandoned socks, none of them escapes his scrutiny while he cleans the beach. Kibum grumbles about being in the sun and not having fruit punch, but Taemin pretends not to hear any of it - even as Kibum raises his voice obnoxiously loud.
No way is he going near a certain yellow shack. Not even if Kibum threatens to leave his clothes unwashed.
Whenever red flashes by the corner of his eyes, Taemin glances up before he can stop himself, jittery in the seconds that span - wondering if it’s a lifeguard board. It usually is, but carried by the wrong person.
And when Taemin finally catches a glimpse of Minho, tall frame and laid back head unmistakable, the older boy never looks his way. It’s peculiar as Taemin watches from a distance, Minho grinning widely as the same golden retrievers drag him along the sand. Minho is wearing a shirt. Taemin doesn’t know what to think. He feels distant, further than the stretch of beach between them.
Like a stranger.
“Just talk to him,” The diva whispers into his ears whenever they are waiting tables together and it’s grating on Taemin’s ears.
Fortunately, JongHyun has been posted for waiter duty this week. The unwanted phrases stops coming then, because Kibum’s either too occupied in a corner, kissing as quietly as they can (which really isn’t quiet), or too engrossed in bumping hips with JongHyun.
Summer break ends in four days. Taemin makes it a point to inform Kibum soon.
Bed sheet duty will eventually come on Friday. So on Thursday, Taemin finishes dance practice before the studio locks up, and takes the dimly lit path by the ocean towards Sapphire Sands’ longhouse.
Limps his way there, actually.
It’s not like he can still hitch a ride on Minho’s back now. As he climbs the stairs and proceeds through the wooden hallway, Taemin wonders if he would walk in on his parents quarrelling - it’s always about legal matters these days and he never gets it.
He only hears the clicking of bamboo on rock, the water feature, and it’s both appeasing and troubling at once. Murmuring of a conversation drifts out as he approaches his father’s office, and everything becomes even weirder at the sight.
His parents are seated on the visitor’s couch together, clutching a single mug of coffee.
“Uh...Hi dad,” Taemin greets awkwardly. “Hi mom.”
Not many children will enjoy the situation of interrupting their parents’ moment, but right then, Taemin feels unexplainably relieved and glad - he grins. It beats seeing them fight.
And as quickly as his spirits lifted, it falls back down.
“I was thinking if I can take the day off tomorrow,” So they don’t have to see each other. “I need to finish my homework.”
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Lee nods and it’s all becoming unsettling for Taemin because he’s never seen them so happy like this before, both smiling at him. “Taemin, it’s good that you’ve come. Your mother has something to tell you.”
They both share a contented gaze and that’s just getting too much, even for Taemin. He’s going to barf.
“Taemin, your father and I will...support you on dancing,” Mrs. Lee says while pondering the right words. “The resort is secure and we will never force you into anything you don’t want to do.”
“Huh?” He blinks and his heart stops as it sinks in. “What? But dad, you’re sick. I mean, I can help if you -”
“The resort needs somebody who loves it,” Mr. Lee interjects, waving a hand. “Not my son who does it for me. And I refuse to die so early.”
Mrs. Lee laughs and hits his father’s shoulder playfully and if Taemin isn’t so puzzled at the moment, he would’ve seriously liked to leave.
“You mean you’ve found someone?”
Mr. Lee’s eyes crinkles. “Just do well in your dancing.”
Taemin sits at their table by the pool on Friday’s afternoon. Children are shrieking and splashing about while their parents yell from the side and it’s all quite distracting for Taemin. He hasn’t sat in this seat for a week because a lifeguard called Chansung has been cleaning the pools instead.
The pool is bright to the point of leaving spots in his retinas. There is screaming and violent splashing and it’s full of activity. He prefers the pool under a starry sky though, where there’s peace and quiet. Where the seat beside isn’t some random parent shouting at her kid.
Cicadas not children.
Taemin tuts softly, irritated at catching his thoughts digressing instead of focusing on the questions under his chin. Math isn’t actually that difficult after Minho’s tuition. It helps knowing that it’s easier if he kept the sums simple; “don’t expand everything”.
The aluminium chair is still hard and uncomfortable, but the scent of sunscreen is strong in the air, not hazelnut and the ocean, and when Taemin gets the question right, he misses sharp canines that always used to show.
He only has half a book left to complete. He’ll do fine.
Probably.
5, 6, 7, 8.
Frankly, as Taemin goes through the choreography fluidly, missing the beat twice, he isn’t expecting much. Lunch had been Kibum’s hastily packed food, nutritious, but not filling - the diva’s too busy to prepare a big meal. He had entered the studio with hunger biting at his stomach and Mr. Jung looking more intimidating than usual.
Nothing changes during the routine. After an hour, Taemin’s legs start to burn and his feet start stepping on blades. He catches a glimpse of Mr. Jung’s neutral visage in the mirror, arms folded at the back of the room, during the dance and something close to shame flares in him.
The space is wide around and it’s natural for him to fill up the empty spots, throwing his head back and crossing his feet - but it has never been good enough.
So when the music finally stops and Mr. Jung offers a smile, Taemin is more than bewildered.
“Better,” Mr. Jung says and Taemin just stares. “We might be able to use this piece after all.”
“Huh?” He manages through his panting.
“You are connecting,” Mr. Jung says as he picks up his bag. “Remember to lift your chin and bend your knees.”
“Are you serious?” Taemin asks, receiving a dry expression in response.
“No, I’m not,” A flicker of a smile plays across Mr. Jung’s face. “But not good enough. All those mistakes. Work on them.”
“Y-yes, Mr. Jung,” Taemin says uncertainly and when the door finally clicks shut, his mouth tugs upwards, just a bit.
The growing impatience gnawing at Taemin reaches its boiling point on Saturday. He’s slightly on edge that day, slightly powdered keg and dynamite. Not knowing what’s agitating him so much, Taemin carries out morning duty in a foul mood. Sweeping up plates quickly and replacing them, it’s all Taemin can do without screaming out.
Somebody needs to hear him, and it happens to be Kibum. Jinki had tripped in the kitchen, and he needs ice for his head, resting in the staff lounge. Taemin has been standing beside the freezer with a pack of ice, waiting for Kibum to come help. It has been fifteen minutes and there’s a puddle of water seeping under his shoes.
When Kibum finally appears, Taemin tries not to snap at him. Everything is fine, smiling and greeting until he notices a red mark on Kibum’s neck as the diva bends down. He loses restrain then.
“Hyung,” Taemin begins, not even fully comprehending why he’s so riled up. “Aren’t you scared when school reopens and you need to leave?”
“What?” Kibum asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone.
“Which is Monday,” Taemin continues, failing to keep the rudeness out of his voice.
“Is this about JongHyun?” The diva has that full-on bitch face and Taemin kind of regrets saying anything now.
“Uh...yeah,” The initial flare dies down and it’s abruptly mellow and empty. He scuffs his shoe childishly, sorry but not wanting to say it.
Kibum seems to understand something Taemin isn’t getting, and he sighs, irritation dissipating. His voice softens as he smoothes Taemin’s hair gently. “My fear isn’t more important than what we could be, Taemin-ah. And yours shouldn’t be either.”
And suddenly, he feels like he’s been wrong all this while.
After the exchange, Kibum runs fingers through his hair and Taemin manages a thankful smile at the diva. Without the fire he started today with, Taemin’s suddenly tired and unmotivated. Then he sees a familiar pair at a table. The man raises a hand, indicating for assistance, and as Taemin walks over, he recognises them as the newlyweds.
“We would like to order a lobster platter,” The man says, smiling and friendly.
“Anything else, sir?” The man shakes his head, and Taemin adds without being able to stop. “Congratulations.”
The man beams, bright and wide and he looks at his wife. Their smiles are contagious and Taemin feels a warm glow inside of his chest at how happy the couple appears to be, hands clasped, grinning at each other yet looking away shyly.
Right then, who can say for sure that they will end up as strangers? Taemin is seeing love as it is, strong and pure and everything a child should believe in - he is still a child and something about the entire situation strikes a chord in him.
He’s been wrong right from the start.
He’s just got to try.
His footsteps are softer than the rustling of leaves as Taemin tries to steady his breathing. So, he’s been an idiot recently, but Taemin isn’t going to leave as one too.
Today, he had been the one who woke Kibum up. After wrestling around with the diva, causing Jinki to jerk awake sleepily before knocking out again, Kibum had finally given in. Taemin observed nervously as Kibum dug for his phone grumpily, dialling JongHyun. Only a second and the opposite end picked up, voice and static loud in the room and Kibum winced, holding the phone away.
Meeting JongHyun alone by the lifeguards’ room has got to be one of the most awkward moments in Taemin’s life - especially with the lifeguard knowing what he wants to do. JongHyun had greeted him with a huge grin, all buddy-buddy and rambling, oblivious to Taemin dissolving in embarrassment.
Out of everything JongHyun had said, which includes but not limited to: pizza, video games, Minho’s underwear, and the lifeguards’ room having a faulty toilet, Taemin finds out that the only time he’s able to talk to Minho properly would be after beach duty, where Minho bathes and heads for dinner. The rest of the older boy’s schedule will see him juggling around six different jobs and Taemin needs more than five minutes to get things right again.
Hence, he ends up in the toilet for beach staff, sand getting between his toes as he walks by the sinks. A shower is on somewhere deep inside the toilet, water droplets pelting noisily and echoing through the place. He briefly thinks about this place being bad for conversations before the toilet is suddenly quiet.
Turning a corner, Taemin finds rows of lockers stretching by the sides and his heart freezes at Minho emerging from the cubicle right in front. Taemin’s throat feels like sandpaper and his face is on fire even though Minho is fully dressed, all white shirt and beach shorts.
There’s just something about the entire thing, about Minho just done with bathing and them alone in the toilet, that makes Taemin’s stomach squirm uneasily. There’s a familiar body wash and shampoo scent in the moist, warm air and Taemin finds it somewhat hard to breathe.
The older boy doesn’t even nod as he dries his hair with the towel around his neck, looking away from Taemin smoothly. It stings a little but his thoughts are messing up and he can’t get any of the words he’s been repeating in his head out. He just stands there stupidly, eyes drifting from Minho rifling through his locker, to the other lockers, to the ceiling, to the floor, to the sand between his toes.
Taemin looks up when there’s a hollow sound of metal on metal. Minho is clearly ignoring him, concentrating on flipping his towel dry as he walks towards Taemin. Hazelnut enters his nose too fast and Taemin’s not even ready yet. Minho is going to brush past him. Minho is near. He needs to say something - he can’t - on impulse, Taemin’s arms fling outwards, shoving Minho into the lockers with an ear-splitting crash.
His hands are fisting Minho’s shirt before he knows it, and he’s staring right into unfamiliar, big hard eyes. Listen to me, Taemin tries to say but it disappears in his throat.
“What do you want, Taemin?” It’s cold and stoic and Taemin’s hands are beginning to sweat.
Mouth opening and closing, his voice comes out scratchy, incoherent, and his grip tightens.
“What?” Minho demands again and Taemin’s chest jumps.
“I...you - I,” He stutters miserably and he withers under the older boy’s stare. “Like - we -”
A little cry escapes Taemin as he gets lifted up suddenly. His arms automatically find purchase on Minho’s shoulders as the older boy crams between his legs, wincing as his back slams into the metal behind. Minho’s hold is iron on his thighs and Taemin’s heart is pounding against his ribs.
“Is this is?” Minho breathes, their noses almost touching, and Taemin’s gaze shifts down to the older boy’s collarbones, head light and dizzy and he’s uncertain for the first time. “Don’t start things you aren’t sure of.”
Crying, hard-lined faces don’t appear this time. Taemin only remembers vividly the eyes of the newlyweds, bright and hopeful, remembers a single mug of coffee and Kibum and JongHyun.
And as Minho says “forget it”, Taemin closes the distance, muffling the last word with his lips. His heart burns hot and his stomach twists into knots. It feels like he’s melting and his limbs don’t exist as Minho tenses under his arms and everything returns when Minho pulls away. Then Taemin realises his lungs are screaming for air.
“What happened to erosion?” Minho whispers, pupils dilated and breaths hot on Taemin’s lips.
“I don’t know. Love’s a lot like changing sheets isn’t it?” Taemin says, throat parched and mouth dry. “We’ve just gotta do it.”
“But it’ll crumble and become part of the sea and -” Minho has that childish glint in his eyes whenever he’s annoying Taemin.
“Shut up -”
“And nothing will be left -”
Taemin kisses Minho then, because he’s seriously ruining the moment, and he gets even more annoyed when the older boy smirks against his mouth.
Cursing under his breath, Taemin pounds through the car park, granite jabbing his feet through floppy bedroom slippers. He had woken up late and although Jinki’s still snoring and Kibum conditioning his hair, Taemin knows multipurpose men aren’t so slack.
Everybody looks at him as he stumbles into the lobby in nothing but his pyjamas. Glancing around wildly, Taemin lurches at a tall boy behind the reception.
Darwin.
He looks around again. There’s a low buzz of the candy floss machine and Taemin spins towards the corner, coming to face with a strict lady operating the machine. He briefly thinks about how she’s not going to have any children to give that to because of how fierce she looks, before casting about again.
There are a few tourists checking in, a gloved bill-boy rolling their luggage and a receptionist guiding them to the counter. None of them is Minho. He could be anyone, being so multipurpose.
Getting a bit desperate, Taemin forces himself to inhale, scanning the place slowly. The large man he serves at breakfast on the couch, the cook coming out of the toilet, and Taemin feels like he missed a step at a figure outside the glass doors. It is tall and its head is tilted back lazily as it lifts luggage into a van. Relief rushes through him as he dashes towards the figure, unobstructed in the near empty lobby.
Hot air warms his face as Taemin exits and Minho notices him while straightening up from his belongings. Minho steps out from under the van’s bump, ducking his head and beaming, and Taemin finds it infectious, something like hot cocoa filling his stomach.
It’s a little sad too, how they’re leaving. Taemin doesn’t let himself hug Minho. He wonders if Minho will call, wonders if the older boy will find another person, wonders if they’ll ever meet again.
“Where are you going?” He asks, almost breathlessly and his chest seizes.
“Overseas,” Minho has his hands in his pockets, and Taemin didn’t try stopping the image from burning into his memory.
“Really?” He pulls on Minho’s sleeve and the older boy chuckles.
“Management school.”
“Management school?”
There’s a moment where the only sounds are of engines revving. In that moment, their fingers intertwine and Minho scratches on his palm, tickling him.
“Yeah. So I can help your dad.”
Taemin stops wriggling out of Minho’s grip and blinks. It takes a second for it to sink in and another second for him to snap out of his freeze.
“You’re the new boss?”
“Took you long enough, smarty pants.”
He’s suddenly flipped onto his back, a shout escaping him as Minho’s arms go under his knees and behind his back. Taemin grabs Minho’s neck reflexively, almost falling, and his protests are as loud as Minho’s laughter. A few tourists look at them in curiosity.
“So you’re coming back,” Taemin confirms after giving up on making Minho put him down.
“I am,” Minho’s teeth are white and perfect and Taemin hopes he doesn’t regret this. “Are you?”
Nothing is for sure, but Taemin smiles back anyway, burrowing into the crook of Minho’s neck. They are both still children and they have choices to make. Fear will always be there, and Taemin’s decisions will always be blotched with uncertainty.
Hazelnut is strong when Taemin inhales, and almost naturally, Minho holds him tighter.
But beyond that, Taemin has found the courage to believe. To believe in his choices, to believe in people, to believe in love.
end.
part l
Everyone is more on edge than usual on this Sunday evening. The dining hall is a spotless white, with exquisite pink ribbons tied around chairs and balloons forming a canopy over spacious tables, contrasting greatly with the black mood of the staff.
Weddings are only joyful for the couple and their guests. It’s terribly tiring for everyone else making it happen. Taemin is late in serving the fifth course - lobster rolls - because a guest had asked for a change of plates and it’s chaos in the kitchen. Amidst shouting and bumping, Taemin had been yelled at for not serving the customers while he was frantically drying a wet plate. His smile tight across his face, Taemin feels his arms and lower back burning from stretching across the table to place the lobster rolls on the rotating glass - the distance is ridiculously far and not appreciated one bit when delivering a heavy plate.
As if they aren’t busy or frantic enough, the coordinators decide to dim the lights. Taemin strains his eyes to not step on anybody, peering with great difficulty over the guests’ shoulders to see if he needed to swap their plates. Blue lights flood the stage and there’s chattering all around, boys shouting in a corner and little children running around, bumping into his leg once.
Kibum seems to have everything under control, effortlessly tackling tables with a smile, serving with grace and poise, refilling glasses without being asked to, and Taemin nearly goes over to ask for some advice until JongHyun appears out of nowhere and they start kissing.
Assistant chefs are to help with serving because the waiters are short-handed. And that’s not a good idea with Jinki as an assistant chef. Taemin is straightening up from pouring champagne for a lady, bowing and cheeks aching with a fake smile, and he sees Jinki at the back, a big plate of cockles in his hands.
Even in the dim lighting, Taemin can tell Jinki is lost by the way his head is whipping about. Another corny love song blares when the current one ends, and as he approaches Jinki, it all plays out like a slow movie.
Jinki is beginning to walk again and the running children pops up from behind, cutting across his path and Jinki almost steps on a toddler’s foot. Taemin watches in horror as Jinki spins in a circle, avoiding the children and managing to set his foot on the ground again, plate tilting precariously as Jinki continues tilting back. The white cloth of the nearest table slips up midway, china and glasses shattering on the floor and Jinki and the plate of cockles disappear behind the table.
Grimacing, Taemin hurries over, glad that the table is unoccupied. The guests are cheering about something now and the emcee is obnoxiously loud over the song. Sauce and cockles are strewn over Jinki sprawled on the floor, and Taemin pulls him up, worried if he’s injured.
“You should never have served,” Kibum’s voice comes from behind and Taemin is pushed aside, the former taking his place with a mop.
“Sorry,” Jinki apologises.
“No time,” Kibum flicks his wrist, sticky sounds coming as he wipes the mess up. “Get a new plate for the guests. God, my nails.”
Finding their way in the darkness, Jinki wiping his face with serviettes, they walk straight into a shouting match. The voices spill out right as Taemin pushes the door open and he freezes along with the rest of the kitchen at two chefs, Kim Jung and Soo Man, yelling at each other, spatula and ladle jabbing in the air, fried rice and soup droplets flying all over.
Nobody dares to intervene because the head chefs are arguing, becoming increasingly louder, and while some waiters quietly leave the kitchen, to serve the prepared dishes, Taemin guesses, the others continue gaping openly.
“You’re not the only one tired here!” Soo Man shouts, getting out of his quarters and Kim Jung does the same.
The people near them scatters away, sensing the brewing fight and Taemin feels Jinki guiding him backwards, out of range. Kim Jung is jabbing Soo Man, the latter flinging his hand off, growling, “don’t touch me”, and the kitchen doors burst open.
Black whizzes past him before he can snap his head towards the door like everyone else. And suddenly Taemin is looking at a familiar back profile, talking quietly to the livid chefs. The chefs try to protest and blame each other and Minho just stands in place.
“Aren’t you a little too young?” Kim Jung spits at Minho and there’s a soft rustling as the engrossed waiters file out of the kitchen.
Taemin isn’t able to hear what Minho says except for a deep rumble and Jinki shrugs when Taemin glances at him. He just knows that it’s something Kim Jung really disliked, because he snarls at Minho and gives him a very disrespectful look, returning to his quarters. Minho claps Soo Man’s shoulder, while the latter seems somewhat pale, obediently nodding and going behind the soup pots again.
When Minho turns around and their eyes meet, there’s a strange hardness in the boy’s eyes Taemin isn’t accustomed to. Minho nods, stiff and odd and Taemin nods back, equally stiff and odd and he feels conflicted.
Later that evening, Taemin forgets about the encounter as he stands with his back against the wall, ready to refill the guests’ glasses. White light floods the stage now and the couple is standing beside a pyramid of wine glasses. The room explodes into cheers and claps, and Taemin finds the groom very dashing in his suit and the bride, absolutely gorgeous, glowing as she smiles in her white dress.
There’s a bubbling inside of Taemin’s chest as he watches the couple pouring champagne on the tip of the pyramid, letting the diamond liquid overflow, smiles bright and cheerful as everyone around them celebrates their marriage.
At the corner of Taemin’s eyes, he catches JongHyun and Kibum kissing, the diva yanking on JongHyun so hard his hands slap flat against the wall to stop from crashing into Kibum.
Taemin looks back at the couple and they’re grinning at each other now, pearly white teeth and perfect hair for their perfect day and Taemin knows the gleam in their eyes is unmistakable.
Definitely. They are in love.
Sapphire Sands is irrationally cold at night and sweltering hot in the day. It’s ten in the evening and Taemin is plodding along the beach, reminded of how stupid he is for not pulling on a sweater. He’s had to give up dance practice halfway with his phone ringing, his father assigning him the job of bringing Minho to the office.
“Huh?” is Taemin’s first reaction. His father’s helpers are all on errands at the moment, hence he needs to get him to do it. Taemin’s second reaction is a nervous churning in his stomach. When he asked if Minho is in trouble, his father’s answer completely misses Taemin’s question, telling him to concentrate on dancing and run this errand, hanging up after.
Huffing at the thought of his father’s curt phone call, Taemin feels lost in the middle of nowhere. The sea is crashing on the shore gently behind as Taemin looks beyond the wide road, illuminated by orange lights. His father had said that Minho stays in the lifeguard’s shack and it’s across the road from the third lifeguard outpost as he walks into the stretch of beach.
Not being able to see past the darkness, Taemin shivers in the cold breeze, jogging past the road. The residences rise up on the other side, and Taemin can barely make out an inkling of a wooden door amidst the vines and creepers crawling up the wall surrounding the houses.
Taemin thinks it’s ridiculous to have living quarters built into a wall meant to keep burglars out, but this is his father’s resort so he never knows. It might just be a circuit room anyway, Taemin thinks as he approaches the door, and he hears music - cheerful, pop music coming from the door and loud boy voices.
Somewhat disbelieving it, Taemin knocks. The voices stop for a short moment and there are a few sounds, thudding, clinking of cutlery, before the door swings open, bright light and party music spilling out onto the concrete walkway Taemin is standing on, momentarily blinding him.
“Taemin?” A familiar voice asks and before Taemin can reply, still adjusting to the brightness, he’s pulled inside.
Forcing his eyes open, Taemin finds himself in a cosy living room, full of tanned guys. Two are stuffing dinner at a small table, pausing to regard him. A few are in the corridor that leads, Taemin guesses, to the kitchen, playing and spraying water at each other. Couches are crowded beside him, around a tiny television and many boys are sprawled over it, all looking at him. The place smells like seawater, popcorn and sand, and it’s cramped, really.
“That is a fine piece of -” A sharp-nosed boy begins, before a cushion smacks into his face.
Following the cushion’s path, Taemin finds striking large eyes and spiky black hair, laughing and bringing his arms up to block a returned projectile.
“What’s your problem, man?” The boy pipes up and the rest of the guys start murmuring among themselves, some bored, some entertained, some watching the television.
“You’re always so...” Minho trails off laughingly.
“Horny,” Another guy answers and the boy shouts “yah!”, clambering onto the guy’s back and squeezing his shoulders.
“What’re you here for?” The person who brought him in asks over the noise. Taemin glances up and almost does a double take.
“JongHyun hyung!” Taemin blinks and JongHyun flashes his megawatt smile. “Uh...Mr. Lee wants to see Minho.”
The room falls silent and Taemin glances at Minho nervously. There’s a general rumble of consent among the boys, a few patting him on the back as he gets up and walks towards Taemin. Minho keeps turning back to the rest of the lifeguards, laughing at jokes Taemin didn’t get and hugging JongHyun on their way out, and Taemin becomes a little awkward.
But when Minho looks at him, he relaxes and feels at home. A large hand automatically ruffles his hair and slides to the back of his neck, and Taemin really needs to get out into the cold again because his face is burning red.
It’s very quiet after Minho shuts the door behind them and Taemin finds his ears a little blocked. The crickets are awake and a sense of calm settles inside Taemin as he walks beside Minho on the path, a gentle crashing on his left.
“Are you cold?” Minho asks, looking down at him and Taemin is sure he’s becoming a dizzy schoolgirl.
“No,” Taemin lies, a tickling building in his nose, their shoulders bumping naturally. “Don’t you have lock-up duty?”
“It’s not eleven yet. I just ate dinner,” Minho says and Taemin hears him chuckle when his nose itches so much he sneezes.
Taemin’s stomach squirms as an arm winds around his shoulders, pulling him close. It’s uncomfortable and difficult to walk, jammed into Minho’s side like that, but Minho is warm and he smells like the ocean and hazelnut.
“You smell like hazelnut.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah.”
“Well then...” Taemin looks up at Minho, who holds amusement in his eyes. “You smell like Taemin.”
Taemin jabs Minho’s stomach at the unsatisfactory answer, stumbling as the boy crouches from the attack. Taemin finds Minho’s scent intoxicating, he’s breathing deeply, memorising how warm Minho is, how he is so small beside Minho.
“You can’t say that,” He complains. “How do I smell?”
“Nice.”
Sometimes Minho makes Taemin want to roll his eyes. Suppressing a grin Taemin continues. “What do you think my dad wants?”
“No idea,” The boy says nonchalantly, and Taemin scrunches his nose in annoyance, but decides not to prod.
“Where are you going after summer break?” He asks and Minho faces him, eyebrows rising in the middle like he’s wondering why Taemin has so many questions.
“I’ll tell you after this,” Minho says and he realises they’ve reached the longhouse.
Twenty minutes has passed since Minho forced Taemin to sit in the hallway’s couch. There’s a garden in front of him, with a bamboo water feature. The sky made its ceiling and Taemin smells the sea breeze. He’s fidgeting in his seat, feeling petulant and restless. Taemin can’t zone out by watching the bamboo fill up with water, tipping over and straightening up to be filled again. He’s been adjusting himself, from tilting his head back over the armrest, to propping his feet on the coffee table, to hanging upside down from the chair.
Curiosity finally getting the best of him, Taemin gets up from the couch quietly, creeping along the wall towards his father’s room. Low voices drift into the corridor and Taemin freezes, listening hard.
“Have you updated the accounts?” Mr. Lee asks.
Padding of footsteps, the sliding of plastic on plastic and the flipping of papers.
“These are the expenses of the month so far,” Minho’s voice says and Taemin’s heart skips a beat. “Profits here and stock count here.”
“For the resort’s goods and merchandise,” Mr. Lee confirms and Taemin guesses Minho nods.
Then it strikes him for the first time and Taemin reels.
All his free ice creams.
His mind is working in overtime and his stomach lurches. If Minho has been giving him free ice creams all these while, the accounts will be messed up. The stocks and profits and losses all won’t tally and Minho will be in trouble and Taemin’s mind blanks. His father is extremely strict and impeccable with things like these.
For a terrifying minute, there is silence and Taemin can only hear blood pounding in his ears. Ruffling of papers again and Taemin is so close to bolting into the room and admitting to forcing Minho into giving him free ice cream - and because it’s just ice cream Taemin thinks it sounds completely lame and absurd but his father is super anal about -
“Good,” Mr. Lee’s voice says and he sounds pleased. “Good. I’m proud, Minho. I’ve really done right this time.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lee,” Minho says and Taemin is stuck for a moment before he manages to shake his head, blinking away the confusion, scrambling back to the couch.
His father’s laughter drifts into the hallway and Taemin is more than baffled - and maybe a little bit jealous because his father rarely laughs with him, unless he does something embarrassing like fall on his face.
Taemin waits a little more and when Minho emerges from the dark, he is on his feet before the boy can ask him to get up. Minho’s eyes are wide at Taemin’s erratic movements and - damn it, he’s so tall - Taemin tugs down on Minho’s arm to whisper into his ear.
“Didn’t my ice creams mess up the accounts?”
Minho straightens up, eyes now accusing at Taemin and Taemin scratches his head, realising he just admitted to eavesdropping. “Sorry,” Taemin apologises, knocking the toes of his right shoe on the wood.
He looks up when Minho sighs, a large hand resting heavily atop his head, and he’s pressed into the boy’s side again as they walk.
“Who do you think pays for your ice cream?” Minho finally says and Taemin takes a second to understand it. The hand resting on his head makes it to look up at the boy in shock.
Minho chuckles then, pinching his nose as they step out into the night, and Taemin is left staring at the older boy, too stunned to say or react - even when the large hand messes with his hair.
The moon is bright and the galaxy is ablaze with stars. Taemin smells the ocean and hazelnut and since words are failing him, he settles for snuggling into Minho instead, flushing furiously as he grips the older boy's waist tentatively.
His face burns incredibly hot when Minho pulls him closer.
Sapphire Sands becomes as normal as it gets for the remaining of summer break. Taemin slips into a routine without even realising, waking up to a rush with Kibum shrilling and Jinki falling all over their dorm. He will struggle with his uniform, Kibum yanking his hair out to tie it and although it hurts, there’s no time to complain because before his left shoe is on, they are already fumbling along the car park for breakfast duty.
Serving the same people for close to a month, Taemin’s come to remember the families that stay in the resort. It’s common knowledge among everyone which the tables belonged to which family, like everyone’s related in Sapphire Sands.
In the corner, there is a large man that gobbles three omelettes before asking for a change of plates - which he doesn’t anymore because Taemin whisks his plate away by then, already familiarised with the customers’ eating habits. They exchange smiles, between the patrons and staff, and even though every waiter’s apron still becomes horrifyingly dirty, everybody’s too busy and having too much fun to care - even Kibum, who still manages to hold conversations with the customers.
Occasionally, Taemin takes the initiative in ordering omelettes for the large man, earning tips. He only does it when there are large eyes and spiky black hair behind the egg counter.
Taemin likes watching Minho cook, likes to stare at the boy because Minho becomes flustered when people stare at him cooking. Taemin likes the little pout Minho does after a bad flip, egg splattering across the hot plate, and he winces as Minho raps his head with a knuckle, blaming him. When Taemin doesn’t order (because Darwin is behind the counter instead) - the large man will ask him why jokingly and he can only grin in response.
“You’re not doing it right,” Kibum says once during beach clean-up, stealing ice cream out of Taemin’s cup. “If you have a guy, you make use of him.”
“What?” Taemin asks, unsure if he heard right.
“See this?” Kibum brings his arm up to Taemin’s face, a silver bracelet on his wrist. “JongHyun’s money. I can’t believe you paid for the ice cream.”
This conversation happens after Taemin’s first time rejecting Minho’s free ice cream. He had to literally twist Minho’s wrist out in order to press a five dollar bill into the boy’s hand. Minho began protesting then, mentioning staff discounts and Taemin’s position and how he’s been giving free ice cream for so long already it really didn’t matter - all without listening to Taemin’s ‘no, no, no’s.
Minho shuts up only after Taemin sticks a spoonful of vanilla into his mouth.
Taemin knows Minho is at beach duty whenever Darwin is behind the egg counter, all circle-rimmed glasses and neat gelled hair, at breakfast. Taemin thinks he knows what Minho does at beach duty - either in the yellow shack serving fruit punches, or frolicking with his lifeguard’s board.
But he realises he doesn’t know everything after all, on a Monday afternoon. He and Kibum are crossing the beach after breakfast, going to replace spare shirts in the customers’ closets. Jinki spends the entire day in the kitchen now.
The golden stretch is crowded as usual, full of impeccably tanned adults and a few screaming children. Mats and towels are strewn everywhere while balls and Frisbees cut across the air. The sun is scorching, and as they made for the building, Taemin feels himself sweating and his nose peeling.
Then a dog barks. Kibum tenses beside him, and more barking follows.
Turning around, Taemin stops at the sight of two golden retrievers bounding towards him, tongue flapping happily, leashes dragging Minho behind them. Kibum retreats backwards as they approach and Taemin notices a few girls on the sand lowering their shades as Minho stumbles past. He is, after all, topless. There’s a strange gnashing in Taemin’s chest. He feels irritated for some reason and he wants to smack the girls upside their heads.
“Just thought I’d say hi,” Minho informs them after commanding the dogs to sit, much to Kibum’s relief.
“You’re a dog walker now?” Taemin asks, trying not to frown even harder because he’s already squinting in the sun.
“They’re part of the team,” Minho pats the dogs affectionately, getting down on a knee and scratching their chins. View not blocked by Minho any longer, Taemin sees people staring behind. “We need to let them run -”
“Why are you topless?” Taemin blurts and Minho looks at him, confused.
“Uh...because I might need to save somebody?” Minho answers uncertainly, getting up.
Twisting around, Taemin wrenches a shirt out of Kibum’s grip, the latter hissing about being scratched. He holds the shirt out, feeling like he’s being ridiculous but he’s only seventeen and very much a child. “Put this on.”
Minho’s eyes are wide and blinking in question.
“I don’t care,” Taemin says like a complete brat, swiping away hair sticking to his face. “Put it on.”
So Taemin feels a little guilty and a little unreasonable as Minho takes the shirt, looking like a kicked puppy, puzzled at what he’s done wrong. Minho reluctantly pulls it over his head and Taemin’s eyes scatter then, clearing his throat and combing fingers through his hair - face on fire.
“Dude, it’s the beach,” Some guy shouts from the side and Taemin glances up to find Minho sufficiently covered, skin contrasting with the white tee. “Why are you wearing a shirt?”
“My boyfriend’s jealous,” Minho answers and Taemin’s mouth drops.
“I’m not your boyfriend!” He exclaims, pushing the boy.
Minho, Taemin finds, can be incredibly obnoxious - especially then, where he grins and ruffles his hair before jogging off with the dogs.
Kibum is no exception.
“Somebody’s a jealous little bitch,” Kibum comments dryly.
Taemin gaps at the diva then. The latter simply shrugs in response, very much like the whore that he claims to be.
Later in July, the system goes through some reforms, and Taemin finds himself rolling a cart of clean bed sheets into rooms, coming out with dirty ones. Somehow, his previous suggestion on the resort’s human resource handling had reached the important people and it’s been approved and implemented.
Minho doesn’t tell Taemin who he is when he asks. They carry out the duty together, and when Taemin tries to dig for information, Minho pulls a sheet of white fabric over Taemin’s face. He struggles and kicks and eventually ends up tangled in cloth, suffocating with it stretched tight across his nose. He yells and it comes out muffled. He wriggles like a worm and he gets even more annoyed at Minho’s laughter.
As Minho pulls the fabric apart, freeing Taemin’s arms, his fingers make for the nearest pillow. The older boy yelps when Taemin pounds the pillow into his head, bringing up hands to stop the assault. And Taemin enjoys only a few seconds of victory before Minho straightens up, scowling with a pillow suddenly in his hands. Minho hits hard and Taemin, laughing and breathless, honestly stands no chance.
The room is noisy with Taemin’s squealing and Minho’s shouts, pillow colliding with arms and back and legs. It all ends with Taemin pushing his pillow futilely against Minho’s, exhausted and giddy, and the older boy continues advancing until Taemin is squashed between a wall, and their pillows. Minho says ‘I win’ then, and Taemin rolls his eyes, despite smiling, at his incredible competitiveness.
But times when Minho has other jobs to attend to, Taemin ends up working alone through three levels.
He isn’t bothered by needing to do twice the work. It’s just that Taemin hears the cloth smoothing out under his hands. He hears the springs creak and he hears laughter and splashing floating in through the open windows of each bedroom. He doesn’t swing pillows around and it feels weird without bumping into somebody as he tucks bed sheets under mattresses. The rooms feel like his dance track on repeat.
Time feels like its lying as he finishes half an hour earlier than with Minho. That can’t be right, because those have been the longest shifts yet.
Sometimes Minho goes to the gym after a day of work, so Taemin doesn’t get any homework done. He either sleeps early, making Kibum very happy by turning off the nightlight (beauty sleep comes easier), or stays up late staring at his homework.
Jinki comes home close to midnight, smelling of oil and spices, and Taemin is too sleepy by then to absorb anything. Instead of getting help from Jinki, he ends up being tucked into bed, accomplishing nothing that evening except listen to Kibum talk about JongHyun and making shopping lists.
But on nights where Minho is downstairs cleaning the pool, Taemin begs Kibum to let him out of the house - it isn’t that hard, really, Kibum always gives in - and he will settle into the same seat at the same table, chlorine and sea breeze in the air, grinning with all his homework.
By the pool, the only sounds are crickets and the sloshing of water. Taemin does his work easily - seeking help with sums he isn’t sure of. It always begins, the silence breaking, with simple questions about Minho’s day, himself giving simple answers to identical questions. Minho is interesting, he is intriguing, replies short and vague, and Taemin finds himself putting down his pen to look at the boy. There is a kind of amusement in Minho’s eyes as they talk. About the dirty kitchen, his fingers pruning as he washes the dishes, about how he feels lonely without Minho changing sheets with him.
And Taemin sees Minho’s smile tilt awkwardly when they are comfortable enough and the place is quieter than it has ever been. The boy mentions bits and pieces of things bothering him. Someone not listening to instructions or a difficult customer; it’s always in a mumble like he doesn’t think it’s important enough to talk about.
Taemin hears it in his voice - barely noticeable - but it wavers, when Minho tells Taemin about a possibility of him entering management, when Minho tells Taemin about lifeguard duty. He’s uncertain of being trusted with somebody’s life, uncertain about what he should do after summer break.
The night is cold and the aluminium chair, hard and uncomfortable. Taemin tries to show Minho that he’s not alone, that he’s also uncertain about dancing, uncertain about being able to get into his school - he can’t even get the audition piece right, uncertain about not wanting to take after his father.
Minho smiles then, small and thankful, and something bubbles in Taemin’s chest. His hand finds Minho’s, and there’s a soft heat that spreads through the contact.
They are both afraid of the choices they need to make, both still very much children. Taemin’s fingers go between long ones and suddenly, they are holding hands.
Just friends, Taemin thinks.
Despite being exhausted as he slips into bed, sometimes Taemin doesn’t sleep. He stays awake behind a tall oak chair, seeing different pairs of faces seated on mahogany stools with a myriad of expressions. Sometimes the lady cries and sometimes the man cries. Sometimes it is both men and sometimes it is both women, and Taemin wants to close his eyes as they accept his mother’s file.
Except he can’t because he’s dreaming.
He thinks of them sometimes. He wonders if they are doing fine, wonders if they’ve found somebody else already, moved on with life. And he becomes scared. It’s a painful thought at two people, previously closer than anybody else, regarding each other as strangers on the streets - how did it all go wrong, how it could happen to anyone.
And Taemin tells himself to protect his friends well - protect himself well.
Aside from the usual technical advice, Mr. Jung has stopped making any comments during dance now. Taemin will spin and jump and pop in front of the mirror, becoming more inclined with the choreography, and Mr. Jung simply watches with his arms folded, displeased.
Taemin feels like a joke as he performs in front of Mr. Jung. Everything he does isn’t good enough and Taemin’s ankles are swelling and his toes bleed sometimes after lesson. Taemin doesn’t whine, he doesn’t complain about trying so hard and yet still not getting it - because to him, if he doesn’t have it, it just means that he has to try harder.
But sometimes it gets a little too tiring.
Hours merge with hours into nothing but a memory that burns deep in Taemin’s chest. Only the music he’s beginning to detest, the beat and count, and the look of dissatisfaction reflected on the second mirror from the left.
After Mr. Jung has left with a customary ‘good work’, Taemin collapses into the bench. His limbs refuse to move because they hurt so much, his joints are burning and Taemin’s neck pops every time he shifts. All the time spent spinning in frustration and collapsing and bruising collects deep inside of Taemin in the quiet and he gets increasingly irate with himself. The silence is deafening and as he stands to practice more, his legs give way and he falls back on the bench with a clatter.
Everything becomes glassy but nothing ever falls from Taemin’s eyes - it’s not for long before the door clicks open with Minho popping his head inside, eyes big, wary if he’s interrupting anything and softening when he looks at Taemin.
He returns to his room on Minho’s back nowadays. They still talk about the littlest things, under the tiny stars on an island that never seems to rain, and Taemin still turns light as he smells hazelnut and the ocean.
Taemin tells himself to protect his friends and himself well but deep inside, he knows it’s already too late. This one session proves it all.
The door didn’t click open and Taemin’s chest is flaring painfully. He forces himself to stand and a knife runs up his leg. When he falls at the door after stepping too hard on his left foot, Taemin feels useless and helpless and lousy all at once.
“Taemin!” Someone shouts from down the hallway and suddenly Minho is on a knee, in front of him.
“Yeah, where were you?” Taemin bursts without understanding the words spilling out, hot and teary and ashamed. “The gym? The pool? What next, washing cars?”
Almost immediately, he registers what he has said, and his mouth opens a few times, failing to get anything out. Minho seems equally surprised, staring and blinking.
“Actually, cleaning the gutters,” Minho finally answers and it’s Taemin’s turn to stare. “No, really.”
A stick is held up to Taemin’s face and he recoils back at the decomposing leaves nearly touching his nose.
Taemin is on Minho’s back when the older boy says, “so, you always need me to pull you out of the studio, huh?”
“...Sorry. I didn’t mean what I said just now,” Taemin mumbles and Minho’s chest vibrates against his hands. They walk in silence and Taemin grimaces at his previous outburst - it’s not like Minho’s obliged to do any of this - he wants to crawl into a hole and die. He is extremely embarrassed.
“You don’t have to get into that school,” Minho says abruptly. “A group isn’t more important than a person.”
“Are you randomly saying this to cover the awkwardness?”
“Not really. Just concerned.”
This time, Taemin flushes for a different reason, and although he brushes it off, he knows that it’s definitely too late.
Routines never last at the resort, and it all breaks one afternoon with Minho dragging Taemin out of the kitchen, leaving Kibum shrilling about being abandoned in hell. Taemin stops protesting only after Minho assures that nobody will get into trouble; he has no schedule because of a seminar later, and not many waiters are needed since very little tourists are left. Summer break is ending.
Sunsparkles dance across the ocean stretching by their feet. It’s a deeper blue than Taemin’s ever seen as they walk, his palms sweating against Minho’s, and he’s never seen fluffier clouds.
Something warm glows inside of Taemin as he steals glances at Minho, catching the older boy doing the same. Unlike him, who turns his full gaze onto the older boy, Minho averts his eyes and pretends to be looking at something else instead. Taemin bumps him into the surf then, and Minho cries out laughingly, seawater soaking his jeans.
Retaliating, Minho yanks on Taemin’s hand and his arm almost pops out of his shoulder as he stumbles into the water, splashing noisily. Now Taemin’s pants are wet and his shoes are heavy and Minho’s already halfway down the coast, splashing away from him like a kid.
In the distance, there are houses built on stilts Taemin hasn’t noticed before. Minho tells him those are the expensive apartments only very rich people can stay in. Ambling along the quiet stretch of beach on the island, they make a ruckus with their laughter and water fighting, Taemin shrieking when Minho’s fingers bury into his sides.
Nobody comes here because the sand is coarse and hard, and the place is smaller than it already is, with a cliff at one end.
Which they are approaching.
“What do you think we can find there?” Minho juts his chin towards the cliff. They are walking in the water, both not minding anymore after their shoes and pants got drenched.
“A cliff?” Taemin hazards a guess and his chest jumps a little when calloused fingers scratch the inside of his hand. Minho simply grins at him, leading them towards the cliff faster.
Soon, they are stepping on sunset red flats. Waves are coming in gentle but it’s slippery and Taemin thinks he’s gripping Minho’s hand so tight it hurts for him. He sees multicoloured shells and little crabs scuttling along the gaps of the flats when he looks down, trying not to fall. The smell of seawater is overpowering.
Wet flats changes into damp soil and Taemin looks up for the first time, blinking and letting his eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. The sky is missing. Glancing around, Taemin finds rugged rock surrounding them, all around, save for the narrow entrance they entered from.
“A sea cave,” Minho says and Taemin faces him, still fumbling with the special place.
“Wow,” Taemin breathes intelligently, noticing pearl white shells in the walls and by his feet. The sea is endless out of the narrow entrance, rich and deep, beautiful blue, and thumbs are brushing the back of Taemin’s hands.
“Erosion,” Minho begins and Taemin looks at the older boy talk, completely gentle. “During low tide, the sea digs into this cliff. Over time, it digs deep enough to form this.”
“It doesn’t last forever,” He says and Minho raises his eyebrows amusedly at his knowledge. “It’ll eventually collapse after being eroded too much. Geography.”
Minho smiles at that and it’s contagious. Taemin is happy, inexplicably happy, and he says truthfully, “I think it’s cool that you’ve brought me here.”
Hazelnut and the ocean wafts up his nose and Taemin can feel Minho’s warmth. “What’s cooler,” Minho’s face is close, Taemin’s palms are sweating and he knows what’s happening. “Is that you’ve followed me.”
For a second, as Minho’s lips brush against his, Taemin’s mind blanks. His heart is caught in his throat and his fingertips are tingling. It is bright behind his eyelids and he doesn’t even wonder why he can’t hear the crashing of waves.
Oak chair. Crying faces. Halfway down the hall, voices spilling out.
“So it’s mine to deal with!”
Like electricity, Taemin jerks and his hands fly out, shoving Minho’s shoulders - shoving Minho off. His heart is pounding fast, and he’s heaving. Minho’s eyes are wide, clouding with hurt and confusion, and Taemin swallows thickly.
“I-I can’t,” He needs to protect their friendship.
He’s sure it’s the correct thing to do, but he feels something splintering into pieces inside of him as he watches Minho’s features settle. The older boy’s eyes are questioning, pleading for an explanation.
“Relationships erode don’t they?” The words almost jumble up and Taemin instantly regrets pushing Minho away. It shouldn’t feel like this. “Like this cave and it’ll collapse and be destroyed and it’ll become part of the sea.”
He isn’t making much sense, he knows, and he wishes that it’s all a bad dream. He feels horrible, it’s the correct thing to do - protecting himself and them - but it feels absolutely wrong. He is guilty. His chest constricts as Minho stands up, throat moving up and down.
There is fire in his stomach when Minho steps past him wordlessly.
“Taemin!”
Breaking out of his stupor, Taemin barely registers the pink liquid brimming in the cup he’s holding. Quickly jamming the juice dispenser, Taemin bites back a curse as sticky guava punch slosh out of the cup, onto his hands and floor.
“What’s wrong with you, Taemin-ah?” He sets the cup down and finds Jinki looking at him concernedly.
“Nothing,” He lies, turning away.
“Alright, who did this?!” Kibum shrills from behind. Taemin spins around, seeing the diva holding up a ketchup bottle in each hand crossly - and Jinki giving him a stare that meant he knew everything. There’s a low murmuring of denial among the staff and they unfroze, continuing with their jobs.
“Kibum hyung,” Taemin brushes past Jinki and says lowly. “It was me.”
“You did your job, great,” Kibum says caustically. “There’s only one problem. You didn’t differentiate between chilli and ketchup. Now I need to wash all the tomato bottles you refilled because they’re all spicy!”
“Sorry, hyung,” Taemin apologises, listless and distracted. “I’ll help you wash them.”
Kibum mumbles something and snaps, “Fine, fine, fine, never mind. Just don’t do it again.”
At the breakfast table, there’s a buffet counter, which Taemin avoids at all costs now, and ala carte orders that the chefs in the kitchen will deal with. Taemin had asked to be a kitchen waiter, but after relaying the wrong orders twice, Jinki had forced him to take a break.
He doesn’t think of anything as he stones in the staff lounge. There’s a growing impatience eating away at him and he can’t get anything that isn’t dancing right.
Taemin never says anything but it’s not like he can hide anything from Kibum and Jinki.
A week before summer break ends, Taemin realises that hot baths are good. It’s scalding and it helps him relax, until Kibum pounds on the toilet door without end. The pounding continues through him turning the shower off, continues through him hastily drying himself and continues through wearing his clothes messily.
When he finally opens the door, Kibum commands him to sit on the toilet bowl and tell him everything. Of course, Taemin doesn’t. At least, not until Kibum locks the door behind him and threatens to keep them inside for the entire night.
So Taemin lets Kibum prod, and he guesses somewhere inside of him, he’s been wanting to confide in somebody. He tells Kibum they kissed (the diva gasps at this) and tells Kibum what he thought of, tells Kibum what he did (the diva gasps again and Taemin almost punches him).
“Why did you do that, Taeminnie?” Kibum asks and Taemin is so glad everything’s out, the diva’s face becomes blurred.
“I don’t know. It’s just -people don’t stay together,” A weight lifts from his chest, only to settle back just as fast. “Even my parents fight. Better friends than nothing right?”
Kibum strokes his hair affectionately and Taemin manages not to cry. “Don’t be afraid to love, Taemin.”
For the next few days, Taemin keeps himself as busy as physically possible. Cigarette butts, wrappers, abandoned socks, none of them escapes his scrutiny while he cleans the beach. Kibum grumbles about being in the sun and not having fruit punch, but Taemin pretends not to hear any of it - even as Kibum raises his voice obnoxiously loud.
No way is he going near a certain yellow shack. Not even if Kibum threatens to leave his clothes unwashed.
Whenever red flashes by the corner of his eyes, Taemin glances up before he can stop himself, jittery in the seconds that span - wondering if it’s a lifeguard board. It usually is, but carried by the wrong person.
And when Taemin finally catches a glimpse of Minho, tall frame and laid back head unmistakable, the older boy never looks his way. It’s peculiar as Taemin watches from a distance, Minho grinning widely as the same golden retrievers drag him along the sand. Minho is wearing a shirt. Taemin doesn’t know what to think. He feels distant, further than the stretch of beach between them.
Like a stranger.
“Just talk to him,” The diva whispers into his ears whenever they are waiting tables together and it’s grating on Taemin’s ears.
Fortunately, JongHyun has been posted for waiter duty this week. The unwanted phrases stops coming then, because Kibum’s either too occupied in a corner, kissing as quietly as they can (which really isn’t quiet), or too engrossed in bumping hips with JongHyun.
Summer break ends in four days. Taemin makes it a point to inform Kibum soon.
Bed sheet duty will eventually come on Friday. So on Thursday, Taemin finishes dance practice before the studio locks up, and takes the dimly lit path by the ocean towards Sapphire Sands’ longhouse.
Limps his way there, actually.
It’s not like he can still hitch a ride on Minho’s back now. As he climbs the stairs and proceeds through the wooden hallway, Taemin wonders if he would walk in on his parents quarrelling - it’s always about legal matters these days and he never gets it.
He only hears the clicking of bamboo on rock, the water feature, and it’s both appeasing and troubling at once. Murmuring of a conversation drifts out as he approaches his father’s office, and everything becomes even weirder at the sight.
His parents are seated on the visitor’s couch together, clutching a single mug of coffee.
“Uh...Hi dad,” Taemin greets awkwardly. “Hi mom.”
Not many children will enjoy the situation of interrupting their parents’ moment, but right then, Taemin feels unexplainably relieved and glad - he grins. It beats seeing them fight.
And as quickly as his spirits lifted, it falls back down.
“I was thinking if I can take the day off tomorrow,” So they don’t have to see each other. “I need to finish my homework.”
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Lee nods and it’s all becoming unsettling for Taemin because he’s never seen them so happy like this before, both smiling at him. “Taemin, it’s good that you’ve come. Your mother has something to tell you.”
They both share a contented gaze and that’s just getting too much, even for Taemin. He’s going to barf.
“Taemin, your father and I will...support you on dancing,” Mrs. Lee says while pondering the right words. “The resort is secure and we will never force you into anything you don’t want to do.”
“Huh?” He blinks and his heart stops as it sinks in. “What? But dad, you’re sick. I mean, I can help if you -”
“The resort needs somebody who loves it,” Mr. Lee interjects, waving a hand. “Not my son who does it for me. And I refuse to die so early.”
Mrs. Lee laughs and hits his father’s shoulder playfully and if Taemin isn’t so puzzled at the moment, he would’ve seriously liked to leave.
“You mean you’ve found someone?”
Mr. Lee’s eyes crinkles. “Just do well in your dancing.”
Taemin sits at their table by the pool on Friday’s afternoon. Children are shrieking and splashing about while their parents yell from the side and it’s all quite distracting for Taemin. He hasn’t sat in this seat for a week because a lifeguard called Chansung has been cleaning the pools instead.
The pool is bright to the point of leaving spots in his retinas. There is screaming and violent splashing and it’s full of activity. He prefers the pool under a starry sky though, where there’s peace and quiet. Where the seat beside isn’t some random parent shouting at her kid.
Cicadas not children.
Taemin tuts softly, irritated at catching his thoughts digressing instead of focusing on the questions under his chin. Math isn’t actually that difficult after Minho’s tuition. It helps knowing that it’s easier if he kept the sums simple; “don’t expand everything”.
The aluminium chair is still hard and uncomfortable, but the scent of sunscreen is strong in the air, not hazelnut and the ocean, and when Taemin gets the question right, he misses sharp canines that always used to show.
He only has half a book left to complete. He’ll do fine.
Probably.
5, 6, 7, 8.
Frankly, as Taemin goes through the choreography fluidly, missing the beat twice, he isn’t expecting much. Lunch had been Kibum’s hastily packed food, nutritious, but not filling - the diva’s too busy to prepare a big meal. He had entered the studio with hunger biting at his stomach and Mr. Jung looking more intimidating than usual.
Nothing changes during the routine. After an hour, Taemin’s legs start to burn and his feet start stepping on blades. He catches a glimpse of Mr. Jung’s neutral visage in the mirror, arms folded at the back of the room, during the dance and something close to shame flares in him.
The space is wide around and it’s natural for him to fill up the empty spots, throwing his head back and crossing his feet - but it has never been good enough.
So when the music finally stops and Mr. Jung offers a smile, Taemin is more than bewildered.
“Better,” Mr. Jung says and Taemin just stares. “We might be able to use this piece after all.”
“Huh?” He manages through his panting.
“You are connecting,” Mr. Jung says as he picks up his bag. “Remember to lift your chin and bend your knees.”
“Are you serious?” Taemin asks, receiving a dry expression in response.
“No, I’m not,” A flicker of a smile plays across Mr. Jung’s face. “But not good enough. All those mistakes. Work on them.”
“Y-yes, Mr. Jung,” Taemin says uncertainly and when the door finally clicks shut, his mouth tugs upwards, just a bit.
The growing impatience gnawing at Taemin reaches its boiling point on Saturday. He’s slightly on edge that day, slightly powdered keg and dynamite. Not knowing what’s agitating him so much, Taemin carries out morning duty in a foul mood. Sweeping up plates quickly and replacing them, it’s all Taemin can do without screaming out.
Somebody needs to hear him, and it happens to be Kibum. Jinki had tripped in the kitchen, and he needs ice for his head, resting in the staff lounge. Taemin has been standing beside the freezer with a pack of ice, waiting for Kibum to come help. It has been fifteen minutes and there’s a puddle of water seeping under his shoes.
When Kibum finally appears, Taemin tries not to snap at him. Everything is fine, smiling and greeting until he notices a red mark on Kibum’s neck as the diva bends down. He loses restrain then.
“Hyung,” Taemin begins, not even fully comprehending why he’s so riled up. “Aren’t you scared when school reopens and you need to leave?”
“What?” Kibum asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone.
“Which is Monday,” Taemin continues, failing to keep the rudeness out of his voice.
“Is this about JongHyun?” The diva has that full-on bitch face and Taemin kind of regrets saying anything now.
“Uh...yeah,” The initial flare dies down and it’s abruptly mellow and empty. He scuffs his shoe childishly, sorry but not wanting to say it.
Kibum seems to understand something Taemin isn’t getting, and he sighs, irritation dissipating. His voice softens as he smoothes Taemin’s hair gently. “My fear isn’t more important than what we could be, Taemin-ah. And yours shouldn’t be either.”
And suddenly, he feels like he’s been wrong all this while.
After the exchange, Kibum runs fingers through his hair and Taemin manages a thankful smile at the diva. Without the fire he started today with, Taemin’s suddenly tired and unmotivated. Then he sees a familiar pair at a table. The man raises a hand, indicating for assistance, and as Taemin walks over, he recognises them as the newlyweds.
“We would like to order a lobster platter,” The man says, smiling and friendly.
“Anything else, sir?” The man shakes his head, and Taemin adds without being able to stop. “Congratulations.”
The man beams, bright and wide and he looks at his wife. Their smiles are contagious and Taemin feels a warm glow inside of his chest at how happy the couple appears to be, hands clasped, grinning at each other yet looking away shyly.
Right then, who can say for sure that they will end up as strangers? Taemin is seeing love as it is, strong and pure and everything a child should believe in - he is still a child and something about the entire situation strikes a chord in him.
He’s been wrong right from the start.
He’s just got to try.
His footsteps are softer than the rustling of leaves as Taemin tries to steady his breathing. So, he’s been an idiot recently, but Taemin isn’t going to leave as one too.
Today, he had been the one who woke Kibum up. After wrestling around with the diva, causing Jinki to jerk awake sleepily before knocking out again, Kibum had finally given in. Taemin observed nervously as Kibum dug for his phone grumpily, dialling JongHyun. Only a second and the opposite end picked up, voice and static loud in the room and Kibum winced, holding the phone away.
Meeting JongHyun alone by the lifeguards’ room has got to be one of the most awkward moments in Taemin’s life - especially with the lifeguard knowing what he wants to do. JongHyun had greeted him with a huge grin, all buddy-buddy and rambling, oblivious to Taemin dissolving in embarrassment.
Out of everything JongHyun had said, which includes but not limited to: pizza, video games, Minho’s underwear, and the lifeguards’ room having a faulty toilet, Taemin finds out that the only time he’s able to talk to Minho properly would be after beach duty, where Minho bathes and heads for dinner. The rest of the older boy’s schedule will see him juggling around six different jobs and Taemin needs more than five minutes to get things right again.
Hence, he ends up in the toilet for beach staff, sand getting between his toes as he walks by the sinks. A shower is on somewhere deep inside the toilet, water droplets pelting noisily and echoing through the place. He briefly thinks about this place being bad for conversations before the toilet is suddenly quiet.
Turning a corner, Taemin finds rows of lockers stretching by the sides and his heart freezes at Minho emerging from the cubicle right in front. Taemin’s throat feels like sandpaper and his face is on fire even though Minho is fully dressed, all white shirt and beach shorts.
There’s just something about the entire thing, about Minho just done with bathing and them alone in the toilet, that makes Taemin’s stomach squirm uneasily. There’s a familiar body wash and shampoo scent in the moist, warm air and Taemin finds it somewhat hard to breathe.
The older boy doesn’t even nod as he dries his hair with the towel around his neck, looking away from Taemin smoothly. It stings a little but his thoughts are messing up and he can’t get any of the words he’s been repeating in his head out. He just stands there stupidly, eyes drifting from Minho rifling through his locker, to the other lockers, to the ceiling, to the floor, to the sand between his toes.
Taemin looks up when there’s a hollow sound of metal on metal. Minho is clearly ignoring him, concentrating on flipping his towel dry as he walks towards Taemin. Hazelnut enters his nose too fast and Taemin’s not even ready yet. Minho is going to brush past him. Minho is near. He needs to say something - he can’t - on impulse, Taemin’s arms fling outwards, shoving Minho into the lockers with an ear-splitting crash.
His hands are fisting Minho’s shirt before he knows it, and he’s staring right into unfamiliar, big hard eyes. Listen to me, Taemin tries to say but it disappears in his throat.
“What do you want, Taemin?” It’s cold and stoic and Taemin’s hands are beginning to sweat.
Mouth opening and closing, his voice comes out scratchy, incoherent, and his grip tightens.
“What?” Minho demands again and Taemin’s chest jumps.
“I...you - I,” He stutters miserably and he withers under the older boy’s stare. “Like - we -”
A little cry escapes Taemin as he gets lifted up suddenly. His arms automatically find purchase on Minho’s shoulders as the older boy crams between his legs, wincing as his back slams into the metal behind. Minho’s hold is iron on his thighs and Taemin’s heart is pounding against his ribs.
“Is this is?” Minho breathes, their noses almost touching, and Taemin’s gaze shifts down to the older boy’s collarbones, head light and dizzy and he’s uncertain for the first time. “Don’t start things you aren’t sure of.”
Crying, hard-lined faces don’t appear this time. Taemin only remembers vividly the eyes of the newlyweds, bright and hopeful, remembers a single mug of coffee and Kibum and JongHyun.
And as Minho says “forget it”, Taemin closes the distance, muffling the last word with his lips. His heart burns hot and his stomach twists into knots. It feels like he’s melting and his limbs don’t exist as Minho tenses under his arms and everything returns when Minho pulls away. Then Taemin realises his lungs are screaming for air.
“What happened to erosion?” Minho whispers, pupils dilated and breaths hot on Taemin’s lips.
“I don’t know. Love’s a lot like changing sheets isn’t it?” Taemin says, throat parched and mouth dry. “We’ve just gotta do it.”
“But it’ll crumble and become part of the sea and -” Minho has that childish glint in his eyes whenever he’s annoying Taemin.
“Shut up -”
“And nothing will be left -”
Taemin kisses Minho then, because he’s seriously ruining the moment, and he gets even more annoyed when the older boy smirks against his mouth.
Cursing under his breath, Taemin pounds through the car park, granite jabbing his feet through floppy bedroom slippers. He had woken up late and although Jinki’s still snoring and Kibum conditioning his hair, Taemin knows multipurpose men aren’t so slack.
Everybody looks at him as he stumbles into the lobby in nothing but his pyjamas. Glancing around wildly, Taemin lurches at a tall boy behind the reception.
Darwin.
He looks around again. There’s a low buzz of the candy floss machine and Taemin spins towards the corner, coming to face with a strict lady operating the machine. He briefly thinks about how she’s not going to have any children to give that to because of how fierce she looks, before casting about again.
There are a few tourists checking in, a gloved bill-boy rolling their luggage and a receptionist guiding them to the counter. None of them is Minho. He could be anyone, being so multipurpose.
Getting a bit desperate, Taemin forces himself to inhale, scanning the place slowly. The large man he serves at breakfast on the couch, the cook coming out of the toilet, and Taemin feels like he missed a step at a figure outside the glass doors. It is tall and its head is tilted back lazily as it lifts luggage into a van. Relief rushes through him as he dashes towards the figure, unobstructed in the near empty lobby.
Hot air warms his face as Taemin exits and Minho notices him while straightening up from his belongings. Minho steps out from under the van’s bump, ducking his head and beaming, and Taemin finds it infectious, something like hot cocoa filling his stomach.
It’s a little sad too, how they’re leaving. Taemin doesn’t let himself hug Minho. He wonders if Minho will call, wonders if the older boy will find another person, wonders if they’ll ever meet again.
“Where are you going?” He asks, almost breathlessly and his chest seizes.
“Overseas,” Minho has his hands in his pockets, and Taemin didn’t try stopping the image from burning into his memory.
“Really?” He pulls on Minho’s sleeve and the older boy chuckles.
“Management school.”
“Management school?”
There’s a moment where the only sounds are of engines revving. In that moment, their fingers intertwine and Minho scratches on his palm, tickling him.
“Yeah. So I can help your dad.”
Taemin stops wriggling out of Minho’s grip and blinks. It takes a second for it to sink in and another second for him to snap out of his freeze.
“You’re the new boss?”
“Took you long enough, smarty pants.”
He’s suddenly flipped onto his back, a shout escaping him as Minho’s arms go under his knees and behind his back. Taemin grabs Minho’s neck reflexively, almost falling, and his protests are as loud as Minho’s laughter. A few tourists look at them in curiosity.
“So you’re coming back,” Taemin confirms after giving up on making Minho put him down.
“I am,” Minho’s teeth are white and perfect and Taemin hopes he doesn’t regret this. “Are you?”
Nothing is for sure, but Taemin smiles back anyway, burrowing into the crook of Minho’s neck. They are both still children and they have choices to make. Fear will always be there, and Taemin’s decisions will always be blotched with uncertainty.
Hazelnut is strong when Taemin inhales, and almost naturally, Minho holds him tighter.
But beyond that, Taemin has found the courage to believe. To believe in his choices, to believe in people, to believe in love.
end.
part l