Blackfish; Chapter 1
rating: pg - 13 to r
genre: psychological, humor
pairing: onew/taemin
length: chaptered
word count: ~2k w
summary: a deconstructed coming of age story that features two boys; one who sticks out by default while the other is invisible to the radar by choice.
warnings: (as the chapters progress) disturbing themes, violence, blood
a/n: as a whole, this is very character driven and dialogue heavy, transit feel. just letting you know why the summary is so vague. ^^
Blackfish
Chapter 1
Taemin jiggled the lock on his bike twice, heard the snap, slid his key inside, then jiggled it some more until it came undone. Everything had an otherworldly method when you were broke.
"Are you coming to UbSubs later?" Jongin was next to him, standing with his weight on one leg, stare wandering toward the girl whose uniform skirt was being made victim to a light breeze. He was still grinning when Taemin stood up to hold his bike steady.
"I fucking hate it when you call it that." Taemin didn't even bother to search for the object of Jongin's greasy smirk. He snatched Jongin's lit cigarette and flicked it wherever, his long time friend's nostrils flaring in dismay. "The club is called Urban Suburban. No one calls it UbSubs."
"That was my last cigarette."
"It would have been if you were caught. We're still on school grounds."
"We’re in the parking lot-- or no, a parking lot. That's right next to a Seven Eleven. This parking lot could pretty much be theirs."
"That franchise belongs to the school."
"Stop, shut up, are you going or what?"
"Can't. I'm gonna get started on my history paper."
"That's not due for another week, Taemin."
"Early bird." Taemin crouched down to tuck the ends of his pants in his socks.
"Get the fuck out," Jongin scoffed. "My band's playing."
"I'll catch the next one." Taemin stood up, swung a leg over his bicycle, taking a seat and holding it steady with his feet planted on the ground, sitting with a slouch as he placed his helmet on. "You'll be performing again next year, right?"
Jongin struck his arm. Taemin cackled. Then he heard a faint, "See you tomorrow Jinki oppa!", his attention kidnapped by the sound.
In the distance, by the gate of the school stood Pyramid Head, plugging his ears with his earphones, his backpack dangling off of one shoulder by a lone strap.
"Man," Jongin sighed, "what I would give to have a private driver pick me up every day."
"His parents don't pick him up?"
"His mom died a few years back."
"And his dad?"
Jongin shook his head, disapproving.
"What."
"Man, I hear--" Jongin even took the time to look left and right to make sure no one was in earshot. "-- I hear his dad is in on some shady shit."
Jongin had a large everything; nose, mouth, head, hair, ears, chest, arms, dick. Perfect storages for the information he had about everyone in the school. He knew about the Arabian guard who sold hash and a fuckload of this shitty alcohol called Sadiqui. He knew about how the same guard supplied not only to students, but to faculty members and members of the PTAC. He knew about the girls who were pregnant, probably even before they themselves knew that they were. And if that last gauntlet of information implied that Jongin hung around girls' bathrooms and snooped around in their garbage, that was none of Taemin's concern. Sure, Jongin was his friend, and probably the only friend he had that didn’t stay with him just to mooch off his test papers, but every relationship had its limits.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, people say his dad is in stocks and trade and whatever shit that if explained, can't really be explained, you know? If you ask me, that's just a cover up for what he really does. And what he really does is dirty work. And he gets paid well for it. He funded the indoor gymnasium of this school, did you know that?"
"Hold. Hold it." Taemin had to wave his hands so that Jongin would back off. He was coming too close to Taemin's face, which meant he could smell every cigarette he had smoked since lunch. "So what does his dad really do?"
Jongin half shrugged. "Beats me. But he's supposed to be this big deal. Or so my sources say."
Taemin was almost tempted to ask who his sources were, but he could respect the privacy of what his friend chose to do or who he chose to hang out with during his time alone. Besides, if he pried he might lose his privileges to Jongin's vast knowledge of the information that dirtied the school and the people in it. Which Taemin would not have cared about until today.
A car pulled over to where Lee Jinki was waiting, all black, from the paint job to the tinted windows. The Arabian guard of the school pulled the car door open for him, as though it was imperative that this kid's hands weren't utilized fully by the time he got home. Lee Jinki bowed before stepping into his car and sped off.
Taemin smiled to himself.
"What?"
"I think I might have done something stupid."
"What did you do?"
"I, uh." Taemin couldn't get it out in one full sentence because he was smiling so hard. "I spritzed him with vodka from my water gun."
"The Pyramid Head? Where?"
"Like underneath the bleachers during P.E."
"No, I meant where on his--" Jongin gestured at his body.
"On his chest, I think."
"You fucker."
Taemin laughed while scratching his cheek, feeling a little nervous.
"Then what? Did he totally give you a red slip? You know he's the hall monitor for the whole week, right? He could totally send you to detention."
"I know, I know. He didn't say anything. And I just walked away."
"Good. Keep walking away."
∞
Taemin liked to think he was an organized person in a chaotic manner. He lived within the boundaries set for him and created his own definitions, cutting around corners but never so much that it'd be noticeable.
He lived in a small town, went to one of the three schools that existed in the district, cohabitating peacefully with his parents and his eleven year old sister and he liked it. He understood kids his age who were fueled with rebellion, talking about nothing but wanting to leave this town because there was something out there, something better, but Taemin didn't have similar desires.
There were very few things that Taemin truly cared about; his water gun, his vodka, being challenged academically, his family, and maybe Jongin. He often found that people were fascinated with the constant need for more, this never-ending search for a better version of everything. Though evolution had admittedly come a long way, basic human nature hadn’t changed one bit.
He often dreamt about tornados-- massive and relentless ones. Jongin once told him about how that could signify change, but Taemin didn't understand how to interpret anything past that. Should he expect change or was it already happening? Jongin said some pretty stupid shit too, so it was probably best to take that with a grain of salt.
Home for Taemin was a humble space slotted in the midst of an apartment complex, closer to the sky than it was to the ground, or so it seemed. Taemin hopped off his bike, allowing a mother and her daughter to exit the building before he went in. It was a good thing that the elevator was finally fixed around mid December last year. People were suspecting Taemin of having an eating disorder, when really it was all the stair climbing that had him dropping more weight than if he were to actually commit to a gym subscription.
He rolled his bike with him, hands on the handle bars while he walked beside it, sidestepping a few people to get into the heavy duty elevator with it, now only a minute or so away from his bed.
The pebbles that comprised the entire outer part of the building were a gradient color of browns, but blended together looked just as gray as the cement that adhered everything in place, some bits chipped and frayed from old age and faulty maintenance, and everything around him in this open hallway reeked of muddy rain even in the summer.
He ran into a girl who lived next door, Insoo. She had crazy curly hair, horribly uneven teeth, and was the same age as his sister. She lived in the same building for months now and in the majority of that stay-- unbeknownst to herself since she thought she was being very subtle-- she made it clear through her actions that she was in love with everything that Taemin was and chose to be. They went to different schools and her classes ended earlier, leaving her hours to bounce on her heels outside of her door and wait for Taemin to walk past. Taemin granted her the same mechanical smile on his way to his apartment, always keeping his bike as a barrier.
Taemin's mother, a nurse at a hospital a train-ride away in the morning, two busses away by dawn, was usually at work or on her way to work. With the hours that she gone, Taemin only had one image of her, and that was of her busy in the kitchen in the morning, then finally calm when her children inhaled her usual dishes. Outside of that kitchen, he couldn't remember the way she looked. His sister was much younger, but equally as smart, and she looked a great deal like Taemin, was even the same height as him, and that often lead to the misconception that they were twins.
"I'm home," Taemin said, leaving his bike leaning on the wall adjacent to the door. He held onto to the TV, standing on one foot before his sister as he yanked his socks off and freed the ends of his pant legs. His sister, Hana, gave him a small smile, something that had a reply dangling by the corner, something snarky like, "I know, you're standing right there."
"Have you eaten?" she asked instead, eyes never leaving the television screen. She sat upside down on the couch, legs propped up with her ankles pasted on the wall, watching TV in a way that his mother would have suggested would be terrible for her eyesight in the future. She proceeded with, "I think there's potato salad in the fridge."
"Mom made it?"
"No, Insoo brought it over for lunch. She says hi."
Didn't matter either way. It wasn't as if his mother was an excellent cook.
∞
"Here." Hana offered her fingers, clumped together inside thecircle of her other palm, challenging her brother to pick out her middle finger just by staring at the identical tips from the angle she provided. It was a game that they had played when they were little, that had stuck with them until they grew up. Honestly, when Taemin was doing his homework, like tonight, he wasn’t in any mood for such games.
But he knew how it meant a lot to his sister when he played with her. With their mother always away, it didn't leave Taemin with much of a choice but to be the adult she played with. He picked a fingertip with the same hand he was using to write. His sister rejoiced when she freed her fingers and showed him that he chose her index finger once again.
"Your turn, oppa."
"Okay." Taemin hid both hands from her, darting the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth to feign concentration when really he already had his hand squeezed in their original position.
He offered his hands to her, and she rubbed her palms together, squinting.
They both came to halt when the door slammed open hard enough that it knocked into Taemin's bike. A man with Taemin's eyes and lips proceeded into the apartment, smirking at them, not bothering to take his shoes off, tracking dirt on the floor.
Taemin and Hana remained silent as they watched the man go straight for the kitchen, towards the freezer where their mother kept their savings. He uncapped an empty ice cream container and claimed the roll of bills, leaving the freezer door open as well as the container on the floor when he made his way out of the kitchen.
He gave Taemin and Hana a bit of his attention, and for the first few seconds Taemin was certain that he would try something like last time. He mentally cursed at himself for leaving his water gun inside his bag; he could have used it this time around. But all the man did was pull out a ten thousand won bill from the wad of money in his hand, crumpling it to a ball and chucking it at Taemin's head. His sister whimpered, boring holes into Taemin's collar with her stare.
He smirked again, that drunken, obnoxious smirk, then dragged himself out of the apartment, slamming the door back in the frame.
Taemin let out a big breath, loosening the grip he had on his clumped together fingers. He watched the blood return to his fingers, counting down the seconds until he could say, "Not it!" with Hana. But he said it a nanosecond too late this time. "Fuck!"
Hana stood up, "Your turn to break it to mom."
"How should I say it?"
"Like it is," Hana shrugged, on her way to the main door, "Dad came in and took her money again. And we need a new lock."
*masterficlist | tumblr | twitter | comment here to be added
-- Thank you once again to my beta, linnhe.
genre: psychological, humor
pairing: onew/taemin
length: chaptered
word count: ~2k w
summary: a deconstructed coming of age story that features two boys; one who sticks out by default while the other is invisible to the radar by choice.
warnings: (as the chapters progress) disturbing themes, violence, blood
a/n: as a whole, this is very character driven and dialogue heavy, transit feel. just letting you know why the summary is so vague. ^^
Blackfish
Chapter 1
Taemin jiggled the lock on his bike twice, heard the snap, slid his key inside, then jiggled it some more until it came undone. Everything had an otherworldly method when you were broke.
"Are you coming to UbSubs later?" Jongin was next to him, standing with his weight on one leg, stare wandering toward the girl whose uniform skirt was being made victim to a light breeze. He was still grinning when Taemin stood up to hold his bike steady.
"I fucking hate it when you call it that." Taemin didn't even bother to search for the object of Jongin's greasy smirk. He snatched Jongin's lit cigarette and flicked it wherever, his long time friend's nostrils flaring in dismay. "The club is called Urban Suburban. No one calls it UbSubs."
"That was my last cigarette."
"It would have been if you were caught. We're still on school grounds."
"We’re in the parking lot-- or no, a parking lot. That's right next to a Seven Eleven. This parking lot could pretty much be theirs."
"That franchise belongs to the school."
"Stop, shut up, are you going or what?"
"Can't. I'm gonna get started on my history paper."
"That's not due for another week, Taemin."
"Early bird." Taemin crouched down to tuck the ends of his pants in his socks.
"Get the fuck out," Jongin scoffed. "My band's playing."
"I'll catch the next one." Taemin stood up, swung a leg over his bicycle, taking a seat and holding it steady with his feet planted on the ground, sitting with a slouch as he placed his helmet on. "You'll be performing again next year, right?"
Jongin struck his arm. Taemin cackled. Then he heard a faint, "See you tomorrow Jinki oppa!", his attention kidnapped by the sound.
In the distance, by the gate of the school stood Pyramid Head, plugging his ears with his earphones, his backpack dangling off of one shoulder by a lone strap.
"Man," Jongin sighed, "what I would give to have a private driver pick me up every day."
"His parents don't pick him up?"
"His mom died a few years back."
"And his dad?"
Jongin shook his head, disapproving.
"What."
"Man, I hear--" Jongin even took the time to look left and right to make sure no one was in earshot. "-- I hear his dad is in on some shady shit."
Jongin had a large everything; nose, mouth, head, hair, ears, chest, arms, dick. Perfect storages for the information he had about everyone in the school. He knew about the Arabian guard who sold hash and a fuckload of this shitty alcohol called Sadiqui. He knew about how the same guard supplied not only to students, but to faculty members and members of the PTAC. He knew about the girls who were pregnant, probably even before they themselves knew that they were. And if that last gauntlet of information implied that Jongin hung around girls' bathrooms and snooped around in their garbage, that was none of Taemin's concern. Sure, Jongin was his friend, and probably the only friend he had that didn’t stay with him just to mooch off his test papers, but every relationship had its limits.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, people say his dad is in stocks and trade and whatever shit that if explained, can't really be explained, you know? If you ask me, that's just a cover up for what he really does. And what he really does is dirty work. And he gets paid well for it. He funded the indoor gymnasium of this school, did you know that?"
"Hold. Hold it." Taemin had to wave his hands so that Jongin would back off. He was coming too close to Taemin's face, which meant he could smell every cigarette he had smoked since lunch. "So what does his dad really do?"
Jongin half shrugged. "Beats me. But he's supposed to be this big deal. Or so my sources say."
Taemin was almost tempted to ask who his sources were, but he could respect the privacy of what his friend chose to do or who he chose to hang out with during his time alone. Besides, if he pried he might lose his privileges to Jongin's vast knowledge of the information that dirtied the school and the people in it. Which Taemin would not have cared about until today.
A car pulled over to where Lee Jinki was waiting, all black, from the paint job to the tinted windows. The Arabian guard of the school pulled the car door open for him, as though it was imperative that this kid's hands weren't utilized fully by the time he got home. Lee Jinki bowed before stepping into his car and sped off.
Taemin smiled to himself.
"What?"
"I think I might have done something stupid."
"What did you do?"
"I, uh." Taemin couldn't get it out in one full sentence because he was smiling so hard. "I spritzed him with vodka from my water gun."
"The Pyramid Head? Where?"
"Like underneath the bleachers during P.E."
"No, I meant where on his--" Jongin gestured at his body.
"On his chest, I think."
"You fucker."
Taemin laughed while scratching his cheek, feeling a little nervous.
"Then what? Did he totally give you a red slip? You know he's the hall monitor for the whole week, right? He could totally send you to detention."
"I know, I know. He didn't say anything. And I just walked away."
"Good. Keep walking away."
∞
Taemin liked to think he was an organized person in a chaotic manner. He lived within the boundaries set for him and created his own definitions, cutting around corners but never so much that it'd be noticeable.
He lived in a small town, went to one of the three schools that existed in the district, cohabitating peacefully with his parents and his eleven year old sister and he liked it. He understood kids his age who were fueled with rebellion, talking about nothing but wanting to leave this town because there was something out there, something better, but Taemin didn't have similar desires.
There were very few things that Taemin truly cared about; his water gun, his vodka, being challenged academically, his family, and maybe Jongin. He often found that people were fascinated with the constant need for more, this never-ending search for a better version of everything. Though evolution had admittedly come a long way, basic human nature hadn’t changed one bit.
He often dreamt about tornados-- massive and relentless ones. Jongin once told him about how that could signify change, but Taemin didn't understand how to interpret anything past that. Should he expect change or was it already happening? Jongin said some pretty stupid shit too, so it was probably best to take that with a grain of salt.
Home for Taemin was a humble space slotted in the midst of an apartment complex, closer to the sky than it was to the ground, or so it seemed. Taemin hopped off his bike, allowing a mother and her daughter to exit the building before he went in. It was a good thing that the elevator was finally fixed around mid December last year. People were suspecting Taemin of having an eating disorder, when really it was all the stair climbing that had him dropping more weight than if he were to actually commit to a gym subscription.
He rolled his bike with him, hands on the handle bars while he walked beside it, sidestepping a few people to get into the heavy duty elevator with it, now only a minute or so away from his bed.
The pebbles that comprised the entire outer part of the building were a gradient color of browns, but blended together looked just as gray as the cement that adhered everything in place, some bits chipped and frayed from old age and faulty maintenance, and everything around him in this open hallway reeked of muddy rain even in the summer.
He ran into a girl who lived next door, Insoo. She had crazy curly hair, horribly uneven teeth, and was the same age as his sister. She lived in the same building for months now and in the majority of that stay-- unbeknownst to herself since she thought she was being very subtle-- she made it clear through her actions that she was in love with everything that Taemin was and chose to be. They went to different schools and her classes ended earlier, leaving her hours to bounce on her heels outside of her door and wait for Taemin to walk past. Taemin granted her the same mechanical smile on his way to his apartment, always keeping his bike as a barrier.
Taemin's mother, a nurse at a hospital a train-ride away in the morning, two busses away by dawn, was usually at work or on her way to work. With the hours that she gone, Taemin only had one image of her, and that was of her busy in the kitchen in the morning, then finally calm when her children inhaled her usual dishes. Outside of that kitchen, he couldn't remember the way she looked. His sister was much younger, but equally as smart, and she looked a great deal like Taemin, was even the same height as him, and that often lead to the misconception that they were twins.
"I'm home," Taemin said, leaving his bike leaning on the wall adjacent to the door. He held onto to the TV, standing on one foot before his sister as he yanked his socks off and freed the ends of his pant legs. His sister, Hana, gave him a small smile, something that had a reply dangling by the corner, something snarky like, "I know, you're standing right there."
"Have you eaten?" she asked instead, eyes never leaving the television screen. She sat upside down on the couch, legs propped up with her ankles pasted on the wall, watching TV in a way that his mother would have suggested would be terrible for her eyesight in the future. She proceeded with, "I think there's potato salad in the fridge."
"Mom made it?"
"No, Insoo brought it over for lunch. She says hi."
Didn't matter either way. It wasn't as if his mother was an excellent cook.
∞
"Here." Hana offered her fingers, clumped together inside thecircle of her other palm, challenging her brother to pick out her middle finger just by staring at the identical tips from the angle she provided. It was a game that they had played when they were little, that had stuck with them until they grew up. Honestly, when Taemin was doing his homework, like tonight, he wasn’t in any mood for such games.
But he knew how it meant a lot to his sister when he played with her. With their mother always away, it didn't leave Taemin with much of a choice but to be the adult she played with. He picked a fingertip with the same hand he was using to write. His sister rejoiced when she freed her fingers and showed him that he chose her index finger once again.
"Your turn, oppa."
"Okay." Taemin hid both hands from her, darting the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth to feign concentration when really he already had his hand squeezed in their original position.
He offered his hands to her, and she rubbed her palms together, squinting.
They both came to halt when the door slammed open hard enough that it knocked into Taemin's bike. A man with Taemin's eyes and lips proceeded into the apartment, smirking at them, not bothering to take his shoes off, tracking dirt on the floor.
Taemin and Hana remained silent as they watched the man go straight for the kitchen, towards the freezer where their mother kept their savings. He uncapped an empty ice cream container and claimed the roll of bills, leaving the freezer door open as well as the container on the floor when he made his way out of the kitchen.
He gave Taemin and Hana a bit of his attention, and for the first few seconds Taemin was certain that he would try something like last time. He mentally cursed at himself for leaving his water gun inside his bag; he could have used it this time around. But all the man did was pull out a ten thousand won bill from the wad of money in his hand, crumpling it to a ball and chucking it at Taemin's head. His sister whimpered, boring holes into Taemin's collar with her stare.
He smirked again, that drunken, obnoxious smirk, then dragged himself out of the apartment, slamming the door back in the frame.
Taemin let out a big breath, loosening the grip he had on his clumped together fingers. He watched the blood return to his fingers, counting down the seconds until he could say, "Not it!" with Hana. But he said it a nanosecond too late this time. "Fuck!"
Hana stood up, "Your turn to break it to mom."
"How should I say it?"
"Like it is," Hana shrugged, on her way to the main door, "Dad came in and took her money again. And we need a new lock."
*masterficlist | tumblr | twitter | comment here to be added
-- Thank you once again to my beta, linnhe.