Defying Gravity
Title: Defying Gravity, Prologue Part Two- Taemin
Author: manaphasm
Rating: pg-13 (for some language and references)
Pairing: Taemin-centric (eventual pairings tba)
Summary: Broad View is a therapeutic summer camp for troubled youth. For five, reluctant teenagers, a summer there means learning to overcome their painful pasts and troubled present so they can cope with unsure futures.
A/N: Credit once again to my beta, wishunew. Disclaimer: SHINee isn't mine because, being a poor college student, I cannot afford them or their lifestyle.
Taeyeon pulled a small box of hairclips out from under her bed. She hated having to hide them, but if Sunny-unnie’s mother found them again, she’d toss them right in the trash. She dug through the box until she found her favorites-glittery, baby blue clips that snapped in. Looking in the mirror, she brushed some of her short-much too short-hair to the side and slid the clip into place.
“I wish Umma hadn’t cut your hair,” Sunny said, pouting as she wrapped her arms around her tiny dongsaeng and ran a hand through Taeyeon’s hair. “It was always much prettier than mine.”
“It’s because I’m supposed to be a boy,” Taeyeon whispered, leaning back against the older girl.
“This is so stupid!” Sunny grumbled. “You’re a better girl than most real girls I know.” The older girl paused, trying to reel in her frustration with the whole situation again. She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Do you miss being with your umma, Taeyeon-ah?” she asked.
Taeyeon closed her eyes. It was such a complicated question, with so many complicated feelings. She knew she loved her mother-the twinge she felt in her distinctly boyish chest whenever she thought of the woman who’d given birth to her told her that-but at the same time, she’d done a lot of things to Taeyeon that most would call unforgiveable, including raising her only son as his twin sister.
Her mother was sick, she’d known that for a long time. There had been so many nights where she had hollered at her, calling her Taemin and demanding that she give Taeyeon back to her. She would yell and scream, no matter how many times Taeyeon said, “I’m right here, Umma! It’s Taemin that’s gone, but your Taeyeon is right here!” Eventually, her mother would become so hysterical that she’d start lashing out, her fists like flesh-coated rocks against Taeyeon’s soft skin, leaving deep violet bruises she’d have to hide under a layer of foundation, praying the make-up wouldn’t wear off.
Her mother hadn’t know, when she was pregnant, that she was carrying twins. The doctors hadn’t known, either, until the night she’d gone into labor. She’d always said, “Taemin was born first-stillborn-then they noticed you, hiding right behind your brother, Taeyeon-ah. A hidden twin,” she said, “that’s what they called you. You and Taemin were so perfectly aligned they thought I was only having one baby.”
Her mother’s illness, her state of delusion, had been so strong, even then. Taeyeon knew now that the doctors had told her mother that her daughter had been stillborn, but that she had a healthy, albeit small, son. She had humored them when they told her that, but her desire for a daughter outweighed any sense of rationality in her brain, which is why, a few days later, she registered her only surviving child-her son-as the daughter that died at birth. On paper, Taeyeon was a living, healthy girl and Taemin was deceased.
She was a single mother and highly overprotective, but no one ever had any reason to think that her Taeyeon was anything but the little girl she was dressed as. At home, she was dolled up in dresses and skirts, with ribbon and lace and every girly pastel color there is, and when it came time to send her Taeyeon to school, she went in the girl’s plaid jumper. She’d had long, straight hair and there was never any shortage of hairclips and headbands and bows, and no one had ever questioned it. Taeyeon never questioned it. Not when, in kindergarten, one of the boys had stripped off all of his clothes when the teacher turned her back and she saw that, naked, she and the boy were built similarly. Or even when, at a sleepover with some girls from her third grade class, she noticed, for the first time, that the girls were smooth, that they didn’t have a small bump in their panties like she did. She’d ignored the signs, wanting so much to trust her mother. I’m a normal girl, she told herself. Why else would Umma name me Taeyeon?
Her mother was always so concerned with people acknowledging her as a normal girl. Taeyeon hated dresses-skirts were much better, less of a hassle-but her mother pushed them on her, bought her new ones all the time. Even her chosen afterschool activity, dance, was populated with other girls. By middle school, though, it was clear to Taeyeon that she wasn’t developing at the same rate as her friends. The other girls all needed bras for their budding breasts, while her own chest remained as flat as any prepubescent girl’s was. She’d sat through the videos about puberty during the health classes that were for girls only, and knew that the other girls in class were starting to experience monthly periods, something she didn’t.
“You’re just a late bloomer, Taeyeon-ah,” her mother told her one morning, when she’d asked about it. Taeyeon wanted to believe her, but at the back of her mind, she remembered that boy in kindergarten and how much her own body had looked like his. I’ll grow out of it, she thought.
It wasn’t until the last few months of her first year of high school that she’d been forced to face the truth behind her situation. Lee Sunny, her favorite unnie, had invited her over to her house after school. Sunny’s mother was one of their teachers, and as much as Taeyeon liked the older girl, Mrs. Lee’s suspicious glances and continuous questions about the occasional bruise Taeyeon showed up at school with had made her uneasy in their home.
She was in Sunny’s bedroom, changing clothes, and had stripped down to just her panties, when Sunny’s mother walked in unexpectedly, looking for her daughter. Taeyeon turned away, grabbing at the blue, polka-dotted skirt she’d brought with her so she wouldn’t be stuck in her school uniform the rest of the day. Mrs. Lee looked away just as quickly, but her eyes were wide and her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find something to say.
“Y-you…Taeyeon-ah…you’re a…boy?” she finally managed to get out.
“What?” Taeyeon said, tugging on her skirt, followed by a matching sweater. She clutched at the fabric of her skirt anxiously as her friend’s mother struggled for words.
“Sunny!” she hollered. “Come here!” After a few moments, Sunny slipped into the room. Her mother told both teenagers to sit down on the bed and then began questioning them.
“Did you know about this?” Mrs. Lee asked her daughter.
“Know about what?” Sunny said, confused.
“That…that Taeyeon is really a boy!”
“But I’m not!” Taeyeon insisted. “I’m a girl; I’ve always been a girl!”
“Umma,” Sunny tried to reason, “why are making these weird accusations?”
“Because I walked in on her-him,” Mrs. Lee amended, “-changing clothes. There’s no mistake, Sunny-ah. I saw a bulge in his underwear.”
“Really?” Sunny asked, suddenly curious. “Lift up your skirt, Taeyeon-ah,” the older girl demanded, yanking at the end a little.
“Sunny!” her mother said, shocked. “Let her go!”
“Please stop,” Taeyeon said, eyes glistening as she began to cry, the exchange overwhelming her. “Umma named me Taeyeon. I’m a normal girl; Umma said so. I’m just a late bloomer.”
“Being a late bloomer won’t make that penis go away,” Sunny mumbled sarcastically. Mrs. Lee shot her daughter a look, silently shutting her up.
“You really believe you’re a girl, don’t you?” the teacher asked. Taeyeon nodded emphatically.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, the tears leaving a track through her make-up, revealing a small, hidden bruise.
“And your mother told you that you were?” Mrs. Lee continued, ignoring Taeyeon’s question.
“Yes,” Taeyeon said. “Even my birth certificate says so.” She paused, taking a shuddering breath. “It’s my twin brother that died…”
“Twin brother?!” Sunny said.
“Yeah,” Taeyeon said. “Umma talks about him sometimes. His name was Taemin and he was stillborn…Sometimes Umma gets confused, though, and calls me by his name…then she gets upset and tells me to bring Taeyeon back…”
Everything went so quickly after that. Mrs. Lee had phoned the police and filed a report, and shortly thereafter her Umma had been arrested and she had been placed in her teacher’s custody temporarily. Mrs. Lee sent her to a doctor for a thorough exam, and Taeyeon had thrown a fit to find that she was being seen by a male doctor. The doctor, just like Sunny and her mother, declared Taeyeon a biological male, but called in a female doctor to deal with her. Afterwards, she’d been sent to a psychologist who’d explained to Mrs. Lee that Taemin, having been raised as his sister, could only seem to identify as her. Taeyeon scoffed when the doctor insisted that only regular counseling could get her to identify as the boy she was supposed to be.
She’d been ushered out of the room for the part of the doctor’s advice that involved the removal of everything that helped her to identify as a girl-as Taeyeon. The first thing Mrs. Lee did to follow the psychologist’s advice was to take all of Taeyeon’s girl clothes and throw them out, followed by all of the accessories and make-up. Then, she sat her down in a chair at the kitchen table, with the threat of having Sunny hold her in place if she didn’t stay still, before taking a pair of scissors and cutting away at Taeyeon’s long hair until it was short and boyishly wispy, the back ending along her neck while the hair at the sides brushed against her cheeks. With the help of a little hair product, she had Taeyeon’s bangs spiked up so they were out of her face. She hated it. She couldn’t do anything with such short hair and said so through small, choked sobs.
“That’s the point,” the teacher had said. “You’re a boy. All you have to do is run a comb through it and you’re done.”
Mrs. Lee’s efforts weren’t proving very successful. She’d pulled Taeyeon out of school for the rest of the year as she worked to sort out all of the teenager’s paperwork problems, but also because the woman was hoping the extra time would help fix her gender confusion. Although the teacher fixed things so that she was officially registered as Lee Taemin, it was just as hard to accept in her mind as it was to respond to that name whenever someone in Sunny’s family called her by it. It didn’t help that, in private, Sunny still called her Taeyeon-ah, while sneaking her hairclips and other, girly things.
“Taeyeon-ah?” Sunny asked. “You didn’t answer me. Do you miss your umma?” The older girl pouted a little at her dongsaeng’s lack of response.
“Sometimes,” she said.
“Sunny!” Mrs. Lee said as she entered the room. She strode over to the two teenagers and frowned as she noticed the glittery hairclips, then held out her hand expectantly.
“Give them to me, Lee Taemin,” she demanded. He whined and snuggled closer to Sunny. “Don’t make me ask again,” she warned. Reluctantly, she pulled the clips out of her hair and handed them over mournfully. The teacher stuffed them into her pocket and turned her attention to her daughter. “Sunny, this is the last time I’m going to tell you this,” she warned. “Stop giving Taemin girl’s things and stop calling him ‘Taeyeon’. His name is Taemin. Giving in to him like this is only going to hurt him in the long run.”
“Yes, Umma,” Sunny said, pouting despite her instant obedience in her mother’s presence.
“Now get out,” the teacher ordered. “Taemin and I need to have a private discussion.” Sunny rushed out of the room, relieved to be off the hook, but sending a quick, guilty look in her friend’s direction. Taeyeon looked up at the teacher nervously, wondering how else she could be punished beyond all of the other forceful changes the woman had made her endure. Mrs. Lee brushed the short, spiky bangs off of her forehead and sat down beside her on the bed.
“I’m doing this for your own good, Taemin-ah,” she said, sighing. Taeyeon looked away, wrapping her arms around her stomach. None of this felt good. “I hate to see you sad like this, but it’s better for you. I want you to be a normal teenage boy, like you should be. You might not like it now, but someday you’ll be glad I did this.” Taeyeon continued to ignore the woman, refusing to believe her. “There’s a summer camp,” Mrs. Lee said, after a moment, “outside of the city; it’s for troubled youth. I’m sending you there at the end of next week, so they can help you…transition better. Hopefully, by the time school starts, you’ll be ready to attend as a boy.”
Taeyeon shuddered at the thought of going to school as a boy, wearing the boy’s uniform. She opened her mouth to protest, for the millionth time, against Mrs. Lee’s efforts to make her the kind of boy the woman decided all boys should be, but was stopped in her tracks.
“No arguments, Taemin,” she said, her voice holding a tone of finality. “You’re going to go and you’re going to let them fix you.”
I don’t need to be fixed, though, Taeyeon thought, as the teacher left her alone in her room. She caught her reflection in the mirror again, and took in the short hair, the lack of make-up, and the loose boy’s clothing. She looked nothing like the girl she grew up as-the one she was for years, up until a few months ago. The more she looked at herself, the less she felt like that girl.
She let out a small cry of frustration. Taemin was infecting her and Taeyeon was starting to curl up in a corner inside her, wilting as the small seed that is Taemin began to take root and grow. She wanted to fight this boy that had already taken hold of her body, had ruined her girlish prettiness, and was now trying to weasel into her mind like a weed.
“I’m a girl,” she told herself, trying to ignore the part of her that was starting to feel like a boy, too; that wanted to be recognized as such. It was so confusing. No matter what happens at that camp, he promised, barely beginning to acknowledge that male side, I won’t let it destroy what’s left of Taeyeon inside me.
hit counter
Author: manaphasm
Rating: pg-13 (for some language and references)
Pairing: Taemin-centric (eventual pairings tba)
Summary: Broad View is a therapeutic summer camp for troubled youth. For five, reluctant teenagers, a summer there means learning to overcome their painful pasts and troubled present so they can cope with unsure futures.
A/N: Credit once again to my beta, wishunew. Disclaimer: SHINee isn't mine because, being a poor college student, I cannot afford them or their lifestyle.
Taeyeon pulled a small box of hairclips out from under her bed. She hated having to hide them, but if Sunny-unnie’s mother found them again, she’d toss them right in the trash. She dug through the box until she found her favorites-glittery, baby blue clips that snapped in. Looking in the mirror, she brushed some of her short-much too short-hair to the side and slid the clip into place.
“I wish Umma hadn’t cut your hair,” Sunny said, pouting as she wrapped her arms around her tiny dongsaeng and ran a hand through Taeyeon’s hair. “It was always much prettier than mine.”
“It’s because I’m supposed to be a boy,” Taeyeon whispered, leaning back against the older girl.
“This is so stupid!” Sunny grumbled. “You’re a better girl than most real girls I know.” The older girl paused, trying to reel in her frustration with the whole situation again. She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Do you miss being with your umma, Taeyeon-ah?” she asked.
Taeyeon closed her eyes. It was such a complicated question, with so many complicated feelings. She knew she loved her mother-the twinge she felt in her distinctly boyish chest whenever she thought of the woman who’d given birth to her told her that-but at the same time, she’d done a lot of things to Taeyeon that most would call unforgiveable, including raising her only son as his twin sister.
Her mother was sick, she’d known that for a long time. There had been so many nights where she had hollered at her, calling her Taemin and demanding that she give Taeyeon back to her. She would yell and scream, no matter how many times Taeyeon said, “I’m right here, Umma! It’s Taemin that’s gone, but your Taeyeon is right here!” Eventually, her mother would become so hysterical that she’d start lashing out, her fists like flesh-coated rocks against Taeyeon’s soft skin, leaving deep violet bruises she’d have to hide under a layer of foundation, praying the make-up wouldn’t wear off.
Her mother hadn’t know, when she was pregnant, that she was carrying twins. The doctors hadn’t known, either, until the night she’d gone into labor. She’d always said, “Taemin was born first-stillborn-then they noticed you, hiding right behind your brother, Taeyeon-ah. A hidden twin,” she said, “that’s what they called you. You and Taemin were so perfectly aligned they thought I was only having one baby.”
Her mother’s illness, her state of delusion, had been so strong, even then. Taeyeon knew now that the doctors had told her mother that her daughter had been stillborn, but that she had a healthy, albeit small, son. She had humored them when they told her that, but her desire for a daughter outweighed any sense of rationality in her brain, which is why, a few days later, she registered her only surviving child-her son-as the daughter that died at birth. On paper, Taeyeon was a living, healthy girl and Taemin was deceased.
She was a single mother and highly overprotective, but no one ever had any reason to think that her Taeyeon was anything but the little girl she was dressed as. At home, she was dolled up in dresses and skirts, with ribbon and lace and every girly pastel color there is, and when it came time to send her Taeyeon to school, she went in the girl’s plaid jumper. She’d had long, straight hair and there was never any shortage of hairclips and headbands and bows, and no one had ever questioned it. Taeyeon never questioned it. Not when, in kindergarten, one of the boys had stripped off all of his clothes when the teacher turned her back and she saw that, naked, she and the boy were built similarly. Or even when, at a sleepover with some girls from her third grade class, she noticed, for the first time, that the girls were smooth, that they didn’t have a small bump in their panties like she did. She’d ignored the signs, wanting so much to trust her mother. I’m a normal girl, she told herself. Why else would Umma name me Taeyeon?
Her mother was always so concerned with people acknowledging her as a normal girl. Taeyeon hated dresses-skirts were much better, less of a hassle-but her mother pushed them on her, bought her new ones all the time. Even her chosen afterschool activity, dance, was populated with other girls. By middle school, though, it was clear to Taeyeon that she wasn’t developing at the same rate as her friends. The other girls all needed bras for their budding breasts, while her own chest remained as flat as any prepubescent girl’s was. She’d sat through the videos about puberty during the health classes that were for girls only, and knew that the other girls in class were starting to experience monthly periods, something she didn’t.
“You’re just a late bloomer, Taeyeon-ah,” her mother told her one morning, when she’d asked about it. Taeyeon wanted to believe her, but at the back of her mind, she remembered that boy in kindergarten and how much her own body had looked like his. I’ll grow out of it, she thought.
It wasn’t until the last few months of her first year of high school that she’d been forced to face the truth behind her situation. Lee Sunny, her favorite unnie, had invited her over to her house after school. Sunny’s mother was one of their teachers, and as much as Taeyeon liked the older girl, Mrs. Lee’s suspicious glances and continuous questions about the occasional bruise Taeyeon showed up at school with had made her uneasy in their home.
She was in Sunny’s bedroom, changing clothes, and had stripped down to just her panties, when Sunny’s mother walked in unexpectedly, looking for her daughter. Taeyeon turned away, grabbing at the blue, polka-dotted skirt she’d brought with her so she wouldn’t be stuck in her school uniform the rest of the day. Mrs. Lee looked away just as quickly, but her eyes were wide and her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find something to say.
“Y-you…Taeyeon-ah…you’re a…boy?” she finally managed to get out.
“What?” Taeyeon said, tugging on her skirt, followed by a matching sweater. She clutched at the fabric of her skirt anxiously as her friend’s mother struggled for words.
“Sunny!” she hollered. “Come here!” After a few moments, Sunny slipped into the room. Her mother told both teenagers to sit down on the bed and then began questioning them.
“Did you know about this?” Mrs. Lee asked her daughter.
“Know about what?” Sunny said, confused.
“That…that Taeyeon is really a boy!”
“But I’m not!” Taeyeon insisted. “I’m a girl; I’ve always been a girl!”
“Umma,” Sunny tried to reason, “why are making these weird accusations?”
“Because I walked in on her-him,” Mrs. Lee amended, “-changing clothes. There’s no mistake, Sunny-ah. I saw a bulge in his underwear.”
“Really?” Sunny asked, suddenly curious. “Lift up your skirt, Taeyeon-ah,” the older girl demanded, yanking at the end a little.
“Sunny!” her mother said, shocked. “Let her go!”
“Please stop,” Taeyeon said, eyes glistening as she began to cry, the exchange overwhelming her. “Umma named me Taeyeon. I’m a normal girl; Umma said so. I’m just a late bloomer.”
“Being a late bloomer won’t make that penis go away,” Sunny mumbled sarcastically. Mrs. Lee shot her daughter a look, silently shutting her up.
“You really believe you’re a girl, don’t you?” the teacher asked. Taeyeon nodded emphatically.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, the tears leaving a track through her make-up, revealing a small, hidden bruise.
“And your mother told you that you were?” Mrs. Lee continued, ignoring Taeyeon’s question.
“Yes,” Taeyeon said. “Even my birth certificate says so.” She paused, taking a shuddering breath. “It’s my twin brother that died…”
“Twin brother?!” Sunny said.
“Yeah,” Taeyeon said. “Umma talks about him sometimes. His name was Taemin and he was stillborn…Sometimes Umma gets confused, though, and calls me by his name…then she gets upset and tells me to bring Taeyeon back…”
Everything went so quickly after that. Mrs. Lee had phoned the police and filed a report, and shortly thereafter her Umma had been arrested and she had been placed in her teacher’s custody temporarily. Mrs. Lee sent her to a doctor for a thorough exam, and Taeyeon had thrown a fit to find that she was being seen by a male doctor. The doctor, just like Sunny and her mother, declared Taeyeon a biological male, but called in a female doctor to deal with her. Afterwards, she’d been sent to a psychologist who’d explained to Mrs. Lee that Taemin, having been raised as his sister, could only seem to identify as her. Taeyeon scoffed when the doctor insisted that only regular counseling could get her to identify as the boy she was supposed to be.
She’d been ushered out of the room for the part of the doctor’s advice that involved the removal of everything that helped her to identify as a girl-as Taeyeon. The first thing Mrs. Lee did to follow the psychologist’s advice was to take all of Taeyeon’s girl clothes and throw them out, followed by all of the accessories and make-up. Then, she sat her down in a chair at the kitchen table, with the threat of having Sunny hold her in place if she didn’t stay still, before taking a pair of scissors and cutting away at Taeyeon’s long hair until it was short and boyishly wispy, the back ending along her neck while the hair at the sides brushed against her cheeks. With the help of a little hair product, she had Taeyeon’s bangs spiked up so they were out of her face. She hated it. She couldn’t do anything with such short hair and said so through small, choked sobs.
“That’s the point,” the teacher had said. “You’re a boy. All you have to do is run a comb through it and you’re done.”
Mrs. Lee’s efforts weren’t proving very successful. She’d pulled Taeyeon out of school for the rest of the year as she worked to sort out all of the teenager’s paperwork problems, but also because the woman was hoping the extra time would help fix her gender confusion. Although the teacher fixed things so that she was officially registered as Lee Taemin, it was just as hard to accept in her mind as it was to respond to that name whenever someone in Sunny’s family called her by it. It didn’t help that, in private, Sunny still called her Taeyeon-ah, while sneaking her hairclips and other, girly things.
“Taeyeon-ah?” Sunny asked. “You didn’t answer me. Do you miss your umma?” The older girl pouted a little at her dongsaeng’s lack of response.
“Sometimes,” she said.
“Sunny!” Mrs. Lee said as she entered the room. She strode over to the two teenagers and frowned as she noticed the glittery hairclips, then held out her hand expectantly.
“Give them to me, Lee Taemin,” she demanded. He whined and snuggled closer to Sunny. “Don’t make me ask again,” she warned. Reluctantly, she pulled the clips out of her hair and handed them over mournfully. The teacher stuffed them into her pocket and turned her attention to her daughter. “Sunny, this is the last time I’m going to tell you this,” she warned. “Stop giving Taemin girl’s things and stop calling him ‘Taeyeon’. His name is Taemin. Giving in to him like this is only going to hurt him in the long run.”
“Yes, Umma,” Sunny said, pouting despite her instant obedience in her mother’s presence.
“Now get out,” the teacher ordered. “Taemin and I need to have a private discussion.” Sunny rushed out of the room, relieved to be off the hook, but sending a quick, guilty look in her friend’s direction. Taeyeon looked up at the teacher nervously, wondering how else she could be punished beyond all of the other forceful changes the woman had made her endure. Mrs. Lee brushed the short, spiky bangs off of her forehead and sat down beside her on the bed.
“I’m doing this for your own good, Taemin-ah,” she said, sighing. Taeyeon looked away, wrapping her arms around her stomach. None of this felt good. “I hate to see you sad like this, but it’s better for you. I want you to be a normal teenage boy, like you should be. You might not like it now, but someday you’ll be glad I did this.” Taeyeon continued to ignore the woman, refusing to believe her. “There’s a summer camp,” Mrs. Lee said, after a moment, “outside of the city; it’s for troubled youth. I’m sending you there at the end of next week, so they can help you…transition better. Hopefully, by the time school starts, you’ll be ready to attend as a boy.”
Taeyeon shuddered at the thought of going to school as a boy, wearing the boy’s uniform. She opened her mouth to protest, for the millionth time, against Mrs. Lee’s efforts to make her the kind of boy the woman decided all boys should be, but was stopped in her tracks.
“No arguments, Taemin,” she said, her voice holding a tone of finality. “You’re going to go and you’re going to let them fix you.”
I don’t need to be fixed, though, Taeyeon thought, as the teacher left her alone in her room. She caught her reflection in the mirror again, and took in the short hair, the lack of make-up, and the loose boy’s clothing. She looked nothing like the girl she grew up as-the one she was for years, up until a few months ago. The more she looked at herself, the less she felt like that girl.
She let out a small cry of frustration. Taemin was infecting her and Taeyeon was starting to curl up in a corner inside her, wilting as the small seed that is Taemin began to take root and grow. She wanted to fight this boy that had already taken hold of her body, had ruined her girlish prettiness, and was now trying to weasel into her mind like a weed.
“I’m a girl,” she told herself, trying to ignore the part of her that was starting to feel like a boy, too; that wanted to be recognized as such. It was so confusing. No matter what happens at that camp, he promised, barely beginning to acknowledge that male side, I won’t let it destroy what’s left of Taeyeon inside me.
hit counter