You Make My Heart Go 'Presto' [2/2]
They go shopping for a new cell phone a few days later, Kibum armed with a list of necessary options on the cell phone, Taemin with nothing but his wallet and the backpack. He gets sidetracked much too easily, seeing stores with stacked bracelets and studded platform shoes, and he insists every single time that it would ‘only take a second!’ Taemin just succumbs to Kibum’s whims, sitting on the couches and nodding occasionally when Kibum asked for his opinion. It’s about a fistful of arm candy and little stud earrings later when he notices that Taemin has started to look tired and was about to fall asleep.
“Get up, you lazy bum.” Kibum says, nudging Taemin with the edge of his carrier bag. Taemin blinks blearily for a few seconds, and Kibum sighs, checking his watch. “It’s still early. Do you want to get ice cream?”
Taemin gets up with a new spring to his step, eyes shining and looking much too excited just for some icy dairy. “I do, I do!” He declares, pulling Kibum out from the store. “Let’s go!”
Kibum watches as Taemin runs off on his own, his red hair flopping around like strands of smooth tinsel. It’s a few seconds later that Taemin notices Kibum’s not following him, so he circles back and grabs his hand, pulling him to a jog. Kibum absolutely detests jogging, but when Taemin turns back and smiles at him, he merely smiles back and ignores the way his calves hurt.
They reach the ice cream store with fast heartbeats and a slight pant, the ice cream man looking at them with raised eyebrows and an amused-looking grin. They get two scoops each, all cradled in a freshly-made waffle cone, and Kibum could feel the heat radiating from the warm cone. He asks for a spoon. Taemin devours it quite happily without one.
“We should go get a cell phone now.” Kibum says, trying to eat his ice cream. Taemin’s hand is still firmly clasped with his, and he couldn’t exactly shake it off, because for one, that would be rude, and two, he liked holding hands with the other, even though they both get sweaty palms and slippery fingers afterwards. The spoon was still stuck into the cream rather uselessly, and Kibum wonders if there was a garbage can near them.
“We should.” Taemin agrees, but they make no motion to leave, just wandering around aimlessly with ice cream in their hands and shopping bags hitting against their sides rather painfully. “We should get the cell phone.” He repeats, making no move to walk towards the phone store.
“Seriously, Taemin. Let’s go to the store.” Taemin complies rather unwillingly and they walk to the opposite direction, right back to where they started.
A few hours later, they emerge from the store with matching cell phones and these stupid little animal straps, a fox for Kibum and a cat for Taemin.
--
When Taemin walks into his apartment with a stormy expression and a grocery bag full of junk food, Kibum knew instantly that it was going to be a long night.
“I hate,” here Taemin collapses dramatically face-first onto his couch, his red hair fanning out on the pillow like fiery coals, “my professor.”
“What’s wrong, Taemin-ah?” Kibum tugs away the plastic bag from Taemin, who has a very loose grip on it. Peering inside, he spies vanilla candy, three different flavors of chips, a handful of lollipops and a few good-sized chocolate bars. Kibum opens up the bag of candy when Taemin began to speak again, his voice a bit muffled since he has his face planted into his pillows.
“He is horrible. He’s terrible.” Taemin bemoans, beating into the pillow with his fists. Kibum’s sort of used to it- whenever Taemin was distraught over anything, he would physically torture the thing nearest to him. “I can’t believe he did this.”
“What did he do?” Kibum pops a piece of hard candy into his mouth, feeling the smooth surface run over his teeth as he attempts to bite on it.
“He gave me a solo. A solo, in front of a few thousand people, with professors that scout people to go to prestigious universities.”
Kibum does not know how to take the news. “Isn’t this generally a good thing?”
“No. I can’t do it. I can’t.”
“Why?”
“The performance.” Taemin takes in a breath, sitting up straight with his head leaning on the top of the couch. “It has to be perfect. I can’t be perfect, Kibum.”
There’s a sense of déjà vu that Kibum’s suddenly feeling, and he stops sucking on his candy for a second, focusing in on Taemin’s shaking hands, on how his lips that were pulled into a straight line. His brown eyes are hooded and dark, a slither of fear emitting from each of them. Kibum puts his hand atop of Taemin’s, and the shaking stops for just a bit.
“Who says you have to be perfect?” Kibum says softly, the candy distorting his voice, making it sound squeaky and ruining the moment. There’s the smallest crack of a smile on Taemin’s serious face, and he decides to plow on. “I think it’s a great chance. You should go for it.”
“You don’t understand.” Taemin’s voice hitches at the last syllable, his voice going up slightly. “I have so many faults. I won’t be able to pull this through. I’ll fail, like every single time I do it and- and-“ Taemin puts his head into his hands, and Kibum hasn’t seen the younger look this helpless in the few months they had known each other.
“What do you mean ‘every time’? When you play in front of the fountain, you’re perfectly fine.”
“That’s because they don’t really care. They hear background music, they stop, listen, and then leave. There’s no pressure. There’s no need to make no mistakes. But a crowd, with people paying to listen, with professors, all staring, waiting, watching…” Taemin wrings his hands together, a weathered down look on his face. Kibum doesn’t like this expression- when he sees it, he realizes that Taemin was mature for his age, that he’s had a back story too, one that hadn’t been revealed to Kibum.
“Why are you so obsessed with perfection, Taemin?”
Taemin’s body visibly stiffens, and he reaches into the grocery bag, pulling out a bag of chips and angrily ripping it open. The scent of green onions mingled with the air, making Kibum want to sneeze.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Can you just drop it?” Taemin hisses at him rather uncharacteristically, flinging the chip bag onto the table. Kibum’s rather taken aback but he doesn’t say anything, just letting Taemin seethe on the couch by himself. There’s a quiet moment or two that passes by without either of them talking, and the candy in Kibum’s mouth doesn’t taste as sweet as it did a few seconds ago.
“Sorry.” Taemin says regretfully, pulling his legs into his chest and curling up. He has his chin on his knees and a forlorn expression on his face, his red hair looking kind of dull for once. “It’s a delicate subject.”
“You can tell me when you’re ready.”
“Okay.”
Kibum pops in Mulan into his DVD player and they watch the movie in silence, Taemin clutching onto Kibum like a baby, Kibum with his head on Taemin’s shoulder.
--
It’s around 3 am when Taemin pokes Kibum awake. They had been sharing his bed (Taemin hadn’t wanted to go home) when the younger shakes him and whispers, “I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?” Kibum’s only about half-awake, his eyes busy blinking the sleep away. He was still struggling to open his eyes when Taemin pushes Kibum up against the headboard, and Kibum finds himself thinking dirty thoughts. “For sex?”
“No.” Taemin laughs, the sound gentle and comforting to Kibum’s barely-lucid brain. “Although I wouldn’t mind that either.”
“Later. I’m tired.” Kibum says dismissively, except now he’s a bit more awake and Taemin smells like shampoo and grenadine, a rather sweet combination. “What is it?”
“You know. About the. Thing.” Taemin clutches the blanket and wraps it around his back, leaving Kibum cold and shivering by himself. He motions for Kibum to come closer, and they’re both under the covers, sitting up straight and facing each other. Kibum could barely even see his own hand. “Perfection.”
“Oh. Yes.” Kibum tries to locate Taemin’s eyes, but all he sees is a grainy figure in front of him, a rather discerning fact in his opinion. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“I’m sure.” He could feel Taemin blindly reach for his hand, the bed sheets getting all creased because of it. Kibum hates it when there are wrinkles on his bed covers but he dismisses it, instead reaching for his hand. He feels Taemin’s thumb run against his skin and he squeezes it reassuringly, waiting for him to continue.
“My dad. I don’t talk much about him, do I?” Taemin’s tone is dry and soft, the quietest whisper against the dark night. “It’s because I hate him.”
“You what?” Kibum’s voice sounds rather incredulous, and Taemin’s nails practically dig into his skin. “Sorry. Go on?”
“He was a good man.” Taemin continues on. “Just not the best father. I don’t remember much about him. He disappeared from my life when I was 8.”
“What? How?”
“A business trip that he never came back from.” Taemin’s palms started to get sweaty, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he clutches it even tighter, and he could feel Taemin smiling, albeit a rather weak one. “He promised me that he would come back. He left me.”
You won’t leave me, right? Taemin’s voice echoes in his mind, and he swallows, suddenly understanding the extent of how powerful his words were.
“He gave me two things, though. His violin and his notebook. I was too angry with him that one day I started ripping out pieces of paper from his notebook and dumping coffee on top of it.” Taemin lets out a laugh, a forced one that was painful to hear. “I threw such a temper tantrum. After I realized what I had done, I hurriedly taped it back together and dried it out on the sun. The damage was done. That’s why my notebook looks terrible.”
“Your black one? The one you always carry in your bag?” Taemin gives a tiny nod, and he stops speaking for a few minutes. They inhale, exhale, feeling their blood rush through their veins and their hearts beating in sync, and Taemin lets go of his hand.
“My dad’s always liked the violin. He just never had the chance to perform it. When I was little, he forced it upon me, telling me to fix this problem or a note that I had played wrong. He was obsessed with molding me into the perfect musician. I hated him for that. I still do.” His voice started to crack, and Taemin sidles closer to Kibum, until they’re side by side. “He made me do a performance before he left. I didn’t want to. I kicked and screamed and yelled but I still had to do it. Needless to say, it was terrible.
“The last words he told me were that I had failed him.”
Taemin finally breaks down, soft sobs making him rock his body back and forth, and Kibum immediately pulls him into his chest, stroking his head and drawing languid circles on his back. There’s something raw and breakable about Taemin’s state at the moment, and he realizes that at the moment, he was comforting the broken eight-year-old Taemin, the one whose father had walked out on them and left them on his own.
“But you preserved his notebook.” Kibum says gently, holding him close. “You don’t hate him, Taemin. If you did, you wouldn’t have bothered going on with violin, or composing music, or even detesting him for leaving. You feel like this because you care.”
Taemin tightens his grip on Kibum’s t-shirt, balling the cotton into his fists.
“Yeah.” Taemin says softly, so quiet that Kibum had to strain his ear to hear. “Why won’t he come back? Why? Why doesn’t he love me?”
Kibum doesn’t know how to answer.
Taemin lets out a small sob, his voice breathy and full of hiccups, sounding like he was about to drown in his own tears.
--
Taemin’s hesitant to pick up the violin that was outstretched in Kibum’s hands, the instrument glinting at him hopefully. He shakes his head, his crimson locks tousling around, and Kibum lets out a noise of annoyance.
“Taemin, you’re going to that concert. It’s good for your future.” Sometimes Kibum feels more like a mom than a boyfriend to Taemin, since he would always nag him to do things, like cleaning his room. “Who knows- you might get whisked off into a wonderful university in Korea. I don’t know what the future holds for you.”
“I can’t do it, Kibum.” Taemin’s staring at the violin like it was about to pounce on him at any second, and it normally would’ve been enough for Kibum to start laughing, but this time he was dead set on making him go. “I don’t like the violin.”
“Bullshit.”
“I can’t. I’m living my father’s dream, not mine.”
“At first you were. But along the way, didn’t you like it?” Kibum persists, nudging the violin towards Taemin. “Why else would you perform on the streets if you hated it?”
Taemin still looks unsure, biting on his lips worriedly. Kibum’s waiting for him to speak, but he just remains silent, his fingers outstretched in a longing way. He slowly raises the violin to his hands, and Taemin takes it, a nostalgic look on his face.
“I didn’t like it when my father forced me to play it.” Taemin puts the violin into its case, carefully wiping it with his silk cloth. “But when he left, I realized that I had really appreciated it. Music is like a story without words. It always left me breathless when my dad would show me how it was done.”
“I hope you find your dad.” The words leave Kibum’s lips without him even realizing, and Taemin looks up sharply, his grip on the violin unconsciously tightening.
“I…” He licks his lips and looks down, his bangs creating a curtain over his face. “I hope so too.”
--
There’s a frisson of excitement when he sees Taemin perform on the streets, his every move delicate and careful, and the notes even more graceful than usual. He had drawn in a large crowd of onlookers, the strangers seemingly interested and a few married couples started to waltz to the music, making everyone whoop with joy. Taemin has this surprised expression on his face but quickly wipes it away, replacing it with pure bliss.
Kibum’s watching at the back, smiling contentedly at Taemin. When he bows down, a lovely round of applause was heard and quite a lot of coin-tossing happened. Taemin looks really bewildered but picks up the money anyway, pocketing it into his bag and happily jogging towards Kibum.
“There’s a lot of people today.” Taemin marvels, gripping the bow of his violin rather excitedly. “Must be the half-price coffee across the street or something.”
“It must be.” Kibum agrees whole-heartedly. They both knew that there wasn’t even a café around there. “Anyway, you played really well. Better than usual, to be honest.”
“Really?” Taemin looks quite pleased with himself, judging by the way he bit his lips to stop smiling and how he wiped the violin extra-carefully. “That’s good. I was practicing at home as well. You know, for the performance.”
“You’re going?!” Kibum shrieks, and a few people turned around to look at them. Kibum tones his voice down a bit and repeats it in a slighter calmer sounding way. “You’re going?”
“Yeah. It’s a good opportunity and all.” Taemin tries to shrug it off, like it wasn’t that big of a deal, but his expression betrayed him, a silly grin spreading across his face. “And I want to impress everyone.”
“You will.” Kibum says assuredly. “You’ve impressed everyone here already.”
“You should just stop talking. I’m going to get a big head.” Taemin laughs, his cheeks flushed and slapping Kibum’s arm. Kibum shoves back, and soon they were in a shoving match, except Kibum gets tired easily so he called it quits after a few pushes. Taemin pouts a bit but doesn’t comment on it, instead contenting himself on grabbing his hand and making them swing in the air. There’s a peaceful silence, and Kibum wants to point out how the cloud on their left looked sort of like a dinosaur when Taemin tugs at his hand, making him turn around.
“What?”
“Will you come watch the concert?”
“I thought it was obvious. Of course I’m going.” Kibum replies in a heartbeat, not even blinking an eye. Taemin’s eyes widen and he grins, letting out a manly giggle before covering his mouth with his hand.
“Oh. Okay.” Taemin tries to act all nonchalant but fails miserably after he starts twirling Kibum around.
--
Kibum tugs at his suit rather unhappily, the tie a little bit too tight for his liking. He had to look around for a more normal suit to wear instead of his usual bright and studded concoction, but now he was sort of regretting it. There was a crowd of people milling about and he could just barely see the venue to buy the tickets if he stood on his tip-toes. Well dressed parents and students chattered happily amongst themselves, and Kibum feels oddly alone.
Until he feels a tap on his shoulder, that is. When he turns around, he only just refrains himself from squealing. Because there was Taemin, dressed in a suit, with his hair styled and a swipe of eyeliner across his lids, and Kibum suddenly understands why girls practically drool from their mouths whenever they see tailored suits.
“Hi.” Taemin grins.
“Hey.” Kibum’s voice sounds hoarse, and Taemin cocks his head in confusion, probably wondering why Kibum sounds like an old man. “I mean, hey.” He clears his throat and smiles. “You ready?”
“Um, no.” Taemin says honestly. “But I’ll have to deal with it.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Taemin motions to the side of the building with his head, and Kibum walks towards it, turning around to wave good-bye to Taemin.
“I’ll see you inside?”
“You better sit in the first row, Kibum-ah.”
Kibum manages to snag a spot front and center by shoving a kid off from his seat.
--
“…proud to present our students, who worked very hard…” The professor’s words swim inside Kibum’s head, entering in one ear and leaving through the other. He has a monotonous and rather boring voice, lulling Kibum to curl up and just sleep. He doesn’t, but he occasionally nods off and snaps back to attention every few seconds when he feels like he’s leaning too close to the edge of his chair. When he finally puts the microphone down, Kibum’s pretty sure that he wasn’t the only person that was glad it was starting.
The sad part was that Taemin wasn’t the first performance, so he had to sit through other people performing their instruments first, ranging from pianos to French horns. He claps every time someone finishes but he’s always eagerly craning his neck, trying to locate a flash of red or the shine from a violin.
It’s about fifteen people later that Taemin comes up, the lights dying his hair into an even more fiery shade of red than usual and making him practically glow from within. He flicks his hair back and smiles nervously at the crowd, fumbling to get the microphone.
“H-hello.” Taemin stutters, and it makes a few people giggle in the crowd. Taemin starts to blink a little bit more than usual. Kibum starts to worry a little more than he thought he would. “I’m Taemin. Lee Taemin. Thank you for coming today.” His smile is pretty much frozen onto his face, and he blinks profusely, making him look really cute but also really weird. His eyes scour the crowd almost frantically, and when his gaze lands onto Kibum, Kibum gives him a thumbs up. His smile relaxes by just a fraction, and he turns to the audience, his blinking finally stopping. “I hope you enjoy my performance.” He ends this with a little wave, and the old lady beside Kibum murmured ‘oh, how sweet of him!’
He could still see Taemin visibly trembling from where he sat. The violin was perched on his shoulder with an intense amount of care, and he squeezes his eyes shut, so tightly that Kibum was worried tears would start coming out.
Taemin’s grip relaxes once the bow is placed onto the violin.
And Kibum could honestly say he could melt into a puddle of warmth right then, right there.
The song was something Kibum had never heard before, and even though he wasn’t an avid fan of classical music, he could tell that this was something that had been composed with care, with lots of thought put into. With every pull of the bow, he could feel a chapter unfolding in his mind, flipping through pages of fairytales and fancy calligraphy, the notes swooping and sinking into his brain.
Music is like a story without words.
Taemin looks positively elegant with his closed eyes and graceful moves, the spotlight completely focused on him. He’s still biting his lip, but the worried look had escaped him, replaced with a content expression.
It feels like the whole audience was holding in a breath.
When the last note is played, everyone bursts into thunderous applause. Taemin looks up, bewildered, and he does this stupid little laugh on stage, bowing and turning into a shade of pink. He taps the microphone a few times, and a loud screech emits from the speakers. He winces but smiles anyway, opening his mouth to speak.
“Thank you.” He says sincerely. “This song means a lot to me. M… My dad, he wrote half of it, but he had never finished it. I would always look at that dropped piece of work and feel sad. Whenever I raised my pen to write more, I could feel something blocking my mind from writing. I couldn’t do it. Not until recently, that is.” He casts a sweeping look towards Kibum, and suddenly Kibum feels a bit shy. “Thank you.”
The last sentence seemed to be directed to Kibum, and him only.
--
“You,” Kibum bombards backstage, wrapping his arms around Taemin’s shoulders, “were amazing.”
“Kibum?” Taemin looks behind him, seeming to be surprised and pleased at the same time. “What are you doing here? This is for performers only.”
“Yeah, well, I snuck in.” Kibum pulls a chair over to sit beside him, and he crosses his legs, which was quite difficult to do considering he was wearing trousers. “You blew everyone away. It was so beautiful, so smooth… and you wrote half of it?”
“Yeah.” Taemin looks down, embarrassed, but there’s this self-satisfied smirk on his face, like he was proud of himself. “I’ve been trying to figure out an ending for the longest time. It’s only really a few days ago that I had finally finished it.”
“It was worth it.”
“Stop complimenting me- you usually pick on my mistakes.”
“Well, right now, your only mistake is being such a beautiful, musically-talented bastard.”
“Well, your mistake is being my perfect, supportive, nagging, gorgeous boyfriend.”
“Aren’t we such flawless people?”
“For each other.”
Kibum almost tells him that that was really gross and cheesy when Taemin leans over and kisses him.
His head starts to spin and the only words he could muster is ‘more’.
--
Kibum never knew that a plain, ivory-colored envelope could change their lives so much.
It’s on a positively sunny day when he meets Taemin on the streets. He didn’t have his backpack on, he didn’t bring his violin with him, and all he did was shove his hands into his pocket, the cat charm from his cell phone dangling out. He has this uncharacteristic frown on his face, and his sunglasses obscured the way his eyes looked. Kibum walks over, almost unsure if it was Taemin or not.
“You’re Taemin… right?” Kibum says, poking at his sides. Taemin smiles a bit and grabs his hand, immediately lacing their fingers together. “Woah, woah. What’s with the urgency?” Kibum laughs, but he doesn’t object.
“We need to talk.”
Kibum’s smile freezes on his face, and a million thoughts dash through his head, all labeled with oh no. “About what?” Kibum asks, trying to hide the panic in his voice.
“I got something.” Taemin pulls out an envelope with fancy black typewriting embossed on the front. Kibum takes it and sees that it had already been opened, the hastily ripped paper coming out in curls. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s probably good, right?” Kibum slips the paper out and unfolds it, skimming through the words quickly.
When he sees the words you have been accepted one of the most prestigious music institutes in the world, Julliard School, Kibum shrieks with joy, wrapping his arms around Taemin’s wide shoulders and squeezing him to death.
“Congratulations!” Kibum says, grinning widely. He expects Taemin to smile, or jump around as well, but all he does is stand there, looking like a tree. “What’s with the long face? It’s a good thing. You can pursue your dream now.”
“Kibum.” Taemin says, sounding tired. “The school is in New York. It’s in America, a million miles away. I’ll be there, studying music for at least two years.”
The heaviness of the words finally hit Kibum, and he stares at him, his eyes wide and confused.
“I don’t want to go.” Taemin says, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I want to stay here, with you, and perform on the streets and occasionally be in a concert or whatever. I don’t want to be famous. I don’t… I don’t want to be separated with you.” Taemin’s hands feel cold against his. “I know that this may seem rash, since we’re both young and whatnot, but I can’t leave you.”
Kibum wants to yell at him, to scream for him to stay, stay, forever, but Kibum’s older than him, and he understands that life didn’t just toss opportunities like this to just anyone. He had to push him away for his career, for his future, the one that was trapped in his blue backpack and would never have been let out if Kibum didn’t bug him to go on with it.
“You can’t turn this away, Taemin.” Kibum tries to warm up his hands by wrapping both of his around Taemin, and he doesn’t look up at him, for fear his expression would betray his words. “So many more doors will open up. You can find your dad with your music. You can do so much with your violin. So please, please… don’t throw this away.”
“But Kibum. Two years.”
“I can see you over the breaks, right? We’ll meet every few months.”
“Airplane flights aren’t cheap.”
“Let’s both get jobs, then.”
“Kibum.”
“What?”
“I love you.” His voice cracks on the last word, and Kibum finds himself falling deeper into the chasm, tears screening over his eyes.
“I love you too.”
--
The days passed by all too soon. They say absolutely nothing to each other on the day of his departure, sitting in a silent taxi and perched on opposite sides of the car. Kibum stares out at Seoul, the beautiful weather mocking Kibum, like they were happy that Taemin was leaving. He has his sunglasses on and he’s quite certain that he would have a glasses tan by the end of the day.
Whenever Taemin opened his mouth to speak, Kibum would abruptly turn away, scared that the waterworks would start, that he would start sobbing at him to stay and clutch onto him like a burr. He had to zip his lips and throw away the key.
It’s when the sleek, gray airport came into view that Kibum had a heavy realization.
This is happening. Kibum thinks, dazedly getting off of the taxi. He’s leaving.
Leaving.
“Come on, Kibum.” Taemin says, removing his sunglasses. He has dark circles underneath his eyes and a faux smile plastered on, the corners of his lips wobbling slightly. “Don’t want to be late, right?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounds tiny and shrunken, and all of a sudden Kibum wants to cry. “Yeah. You can’t be late.”
Kibum lines up with Taemin for check-in, the whole operation going through rather quietly. There weren’t a lot of people around, considering that it was still really early in the morning, and Kibum’s suddenly glad for that.
They still had a lot of time to spare so they just sit down on the chairs, munching on the snacks Kibum had brought in case Taemin got hungry. The atmosphere was quiet, almost hard to break, and Kibum really needs some alcohol down his system to get rid of the anxiety pooling in his stomach.
“I’ll call you when I get there.” Taemin says, cracking the silence. Kibum gives a tiny nod, lips pursed and words piling in the back of his throat. None of them make it out.
“We’re not breaking up, right?” Kibum manages to say a few words, but they sound almost like a strangled garble. It’s a miracle that Taemin understands, and he clutches Kibum’s hand with his, stroking his skin softly.
“We’re not.”
“But. Long distance. A lot of things could go wrong.”
“Do you want to break up?” Taemin asks quietly. Kibum turns his head to look at him, and he could feel the world go blurry.
“God no.” Kibum places his forehead onto his shoulder, trying to blink away the tears. “I don’t ever want to break up with you. I want to be with you forever. I don’t… I don’t want you to leave, Taemin. Fuck. Fuck.” The whole situation feels too real, too heavy for Kibum’s tastes, and when he sees couples parting and one going through to the airport, one going back to the car, he realizes with a heavy heart that it would be them soon, that Kibum would have to go home to an empty apartment with no hand to hold, no lips to kiss, no soft words and loud laughs and honey-like violin music playing.
Kibum’s fallen in too deep and he can’t get out.
“There, there.” Taemin pats his head comfortably, and Kibum vaguely thinks that their roles had been reversed. Instead of Kibum being the older one, he feels like a child, clinging on for dear life. “We’ll see each other over the breaks, right? I’ll call you. We’ll work out a plan.” Kibum digs his nails into Taemin’s skin and he doesn’t object.
“I told you I would never leave you, Taemin-ah. In the end, you’re leaving me.” Kibum laughs at the irony, but his laughter quickly twists into a wretched sob, tears trailing down his face. Taemin remains silent but his grip is tighter, like he never wants to let go, and they just sit like that until it was time for Taemin’s departure.
“You ready?” Kibum feels like this has happened before, in a different situation, and Taemin has a faint smile on his face.
“No.” Taemin says, hands still firmly grabbed onto Kibum’s. “I will never be ready to leave you.”
Kibum feels the tears threaten to come back again. Everything hurts. The pain in his chest, the tears prickling his eyes, how he can’t seem to speak without making a total fool of himself. His heart is being squeezed from all over and his stomach is churning with the chips he had eaten. Kibum wants to keep Taemin with him forever.
But he couldn’t.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
It’s with cold hands and an empty heart that Kibum walks back out the airport, waiting for a taxi to pull up so he could go home.
--
2 years later
--
He feels like he’s walking on bubbles, like the slightest pressure from his feet would cause the floor to pop. He jumps up, skirts around people and stands there, waiting impatiently and raising a huge-ass sign for everyone to see.
MY BEAUTIFUL BOYFRIEND, his sign screams in dark red sharpie. Some people give him wary looks but Kibum ignores them, instead craning his neck to locate him from the exit, hoping that he would be coming out soon.
The doors abruptly open, and Kibum starts waving his sign around frantically, resembling a fan waiting for their favorite celebrity. Lots of people come out- short people, tall people, Americans, Koreans, whatever. He’s watching for a flash of red, or the sparkle of piercings, but after five minutes, when the doors finally close and he’s the only one waiting, he puts the sign down, tilting his head with worry.
When he feels a tap on his shoulder he turns around, holding in his breath.
“Hi.” Taemin grins, but he couldn’t be Taemin. He has gorgeous dark brown hair and three new piercings, sunglasses tucked into his shirt stylishly and his stupid bright blue backpack on his shoulder. He looked taller, stronger, like he had been working out, but his face still remains effortlessly beautiful, making Kibum want to kiss him until they both see stars.
“Hey.” Kibum smiles, and they both just stand there, Kibum holding his cardboard sign, Taemin with his suitcase. “I love your hair color. And your piercings. And you.”
“I love you too.” Taemin looks a lot more mature, and he takes out his cell phone, the one that matched with Kibum and had little animal charms on them. “Since I’m staying here for sure now, I just wanted to ask… can I move in with you?”
“Do you even need to ask?”
Taemin has a pleased smirk on his face and Kibum immediately grabs his hand, feeling the coarse skin underneath his smooth ones and squeezes it, their thin fingers interlocking. There’s a rather heated stare going on before Taemin pulls his backpack to the front and rummages through it, pulling out his black notebook.
“I know that this isn’t worth much money.” Taemin says hurriedly, putting it into Kibum’s hands. “But I want you to keep it.”
“What?” Kibum says incredulously, holding the notebook with care. “But- this is your dad’s!”
“I wrote down all the songs I’ve composed in there. And I want you to have it because for every song I wrote, I was thinking about you.” Taemin looks away bashfully, and Kibum refrains from spouting some sappy movie-line and just pulls him over to kiss him.
“Don’t you ever leave me again.” Kibum whispers. He strokes Taemin’s silky hair and drops the sign, the cardboard landing on the floor with a rather loud ‘plop!’ Kibum feels his heart pounding against his ribcage, breathing in Taemin’s familiar scent of grenadine and shampoo, and he never wants to let go, just them, standing in the middle of an empty airport, hugging and kissing and interlocking their fingers.
“I won’t. I will never.”
They both have smiles on their faces when they leave the airport, sticking to each other so tightly they could barely even walk straight.
[A/N: I was going to write about how painful it was for them to be apart,
blah blah blah
but if I did then it would be a 20,000 word fic
and that’s just not cool.]