Helping Hand
A/N: The ending was a bit rushed, but I tried my best. I might come back to it one day and tweak the end just a bit. I was trying to get this out as fast as I could for ArtFanatic
Title: Helping Hand
Rating: PG 13
Genre: Friendship
Pairings: OC/Taemin ^^
Requestee: ArtFanatic15
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It was the same time and time again - a new school, a new life, a new beginning. One beginning too many.
It was like a movie, walking down the crowded hallways, glancing over at the other kids who've probably known themselves since middle school, and realizing just how lonely you really are. Realizing how you'll never be able to have what they have.
And being a social outcast made it even lonelier than being the new kid. After all, no one wanted to mingle with a foreigner. Sure there were students that were excited to be able to see one, meet one even, but the excitement tended to die down after they understood that we weren't any different than them.
Other than my foreigner status, there wasn't much left for me to give let alone show. I wasn't enough.
I swallowed the bile forming in my throat and stoned my face, walking into my first class of the day, homeroom. Homerooms were the worst - it was where the introductions began, and when the lies started.
"Hi, my name's Skyler, Sarah. I'm from the USA. My family moved to Seoul for business reasons," I spoke neatly, stumbling over but a few Korean words. I glanced at my teacher out of the corner of my eyes and saw her give me an encouraging smile, but the widening of her eyes gave her away. She didn't expect me to know the language.
I looked away, forcing down another painful lump in my throat.
A few kids matched her face, eyes widened in surprise at my knowledge, but mouths drawn into fake smiles. Everything was fake.
"Please take care of me." I finished off, giving the room a weak bow. My confidence was gone.
I briefly noted my disappointment, sure that it was bound to be the same thing as always.
The teacher continued to smile, eyes widening another fraction as she pointed out a seat near the back of the room.
I thanked her politely and took my seat.
I pulled out my pencil case and a notebook from my satchel, and the familiar slimy feeling of being watched crawled up my neck.
I shuddered.
I looked up, a challenging look in my eyes as I caught a few stares and immediately blushes flared up and gazes were reverted back to the front. The teacher cleared her throat loudly, grabbing the spotlight and started the mandatory announcements.
I frowned.
The slimy feeling irritating my back was still there, and I did a quick sweep over the room, locking gazes with the kid sitting next to me. He had a magazine flipped open to a random page, and I easily made out the image of a curvy figure winking on one of the pages. He had an arm thrown over the other image, head resting on the limb. His red hair was long, matted across his forehead, and one eye was open, curiously analyzing me.
His eye met mine and he stared at me unashamedly. I blushed at his boldness, thrown off guard by his forward approach, and scowled lightly at his blank look.
"See something you like?" I asked darkly.
He tilted his head cutely, and after a long pause spoke. "Interesting." He mumbled, leaving me astounded at his thorough response. Then he turned his head, planting his face into the magazine spread occupying his desk space, and promptly went to sleep.
That was my first run in with Lee Taemin.
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The whispering came next. It was as if I was a disease, a plague that infected everything in its path. In the back of my mind I personally wished that that was true and I could put each and everyone one of them in their place. I scowled as another buzz of hushed voices started up around me, and I stabbed my lunch viciously.
I stuffed a forkful of kimchi into my mouth, nearly choking when a seat was pulled up before my desk, and the red head from earlier lazily settled himself into the chair. His legs easily straddled the small seat, and he rested his folded arms over the head piece. He looked at my lunch with wide doe-like eyes.
"I'm hungry." The boy commented, head resting over his folded arms.
I frowned. "What do I look like, your mother?" I shot back.
"No," He started in a matter of fact voice, raising his head. "You're my Noona. You're supposed to take care of me."
I hesitated, mind conflicted. The boy was tiny, and had a very feminine build. He was fragile, like a glass china doll, and he was right, according to Korean customs, Noonas were supposed to look out for their dongsangs, and he clearly looked younger than most of the students of my year.
I groaned internally as the boy pouted cutely, widening his eyes to strengthen the effect.
"Fine," I hissed, pushing my lunch box towards the boy.
"Feed me," Came his order, and a scowl filled my face, but with the cute pout still in place, it was hard to say otherwise.
But that didn't mean I had to be nice about it. So I scooped up a forkful of kimchi from my lunch, shoving it forcefully into the boy's mouth. A wave of pleasure filled my stomach when his head was shoved back from the force of my fork, and I shoveled my own forkful of kimchi into my mouth.
The red hair carefully swallowed his portion, and I sincerely wished I had shoved more kimchi into his mouth before he even had the chance to speak. "Wow, my first indirect kiss. Not bad, kind of spicy though." He sounded an odd mix of amused and smug.
The whispers stopped, for the first time that day, and my face burned under the intense glares of my fellow classes.
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It was pink, it was bright, and it was noisy - the three things I hated most in the world, and above all, everything it was in Korean.
I glared at the pink monstrosity sitting on my desk, scowl deepening when it jumped, indicating I had received a recent text.
"You got a text." The seat next to me commented, the familiar face of a red headed boy craning his neck to stare at the device.
The scowl worsened. "Noted."
"You're supposed to pick it up - read it actually." The boy added.
I gritted my teeth.
"Also noted."
Chuckling the boy leaned over and plucked the cellphone from my desk, humming as he flipped open the top to stare at the contents.
I didn't bother trying to steal it back, seeing as how it was practically useless to me anyways.
"How is it that you can speak Korean just fine, but you can't read it?" He asked, thumb bouncing over a code of numbers. He grinned triumphantly after a few moments, flashing the screen at me with delight. The words were no longer in messy Hanguel, but rather the familiar blocky letters of English.
"Speaking is a lot easier than reading." I assured him, snatching the cell from his hand and flicking through the text messages I had received in the past few hours. They were all from my dad. I deleted them at once.
"Then how do you do the homework and take the class tests?"
"You know, there's a reason why I'm enrolled in an international school."
He hummed again, propping his chin on his hands and watching me with observant eyes.
I glanced him carefully from the corner of my peripheral vision. There was no telling what this kid was up to.
"Yes?" I asked cautiously.
"What's your number?"
My mouth dropped open at his forwardness. "You want my number?"
"You've already kissed me," He refuted.
"That wasn't a kiss!" I exploded.
"Noona, I understand that things are different in America, but in Korean culture that was a kiss - you stole my innocence! My lipginity! I was saving that you know!" He pointed out.
I groaned in frustration.
"What about my lipginity?" I argued.
He paused, looking at me with a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Ok." He said finally.
I furrowed by eyebrows in confusion. Before I could open my mouth to speak, his lips descended on mine.
My eyes widened in shock, mind jumbled with all sorts of thoughts, and finally settling on the fact his lips were oddly warm. My eyes fluttered shut and I let the warmth travel to the tips of my toes. It felt nice.
Until my ears picked up the distinct sound of a camera catching the moment.
The red head pulled away, victoriously showing me the screen of his own sleek crystal blue phone, filled with the image of the two of us engaged in a kiss. In the other hand he held my own pink cell.
I stared at the two devices, mind frozen as the boy flipped through my phone, extracted the necessary information, and slipped it back into my hand. "Thanks," A pause. "Noona." His voice was nothing short of teasing.
He ducked down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. He grinned as he pulled away and folded himself back into his chair, finally breaking my trance.
I blinked a few times to clear my head, an angry flush inking my cheeks. "YAH!" I screamed, jumping from my seat to glare at the red head. He smirked at my outburst, pointing to the front of the room knowingly.
"Yes, Miss Skyler?"
Stunned I turned to the front of the class to see the homeroom teacher and several students staring back at me. I bit my bottom lip at some of the piercing glares and annoyed huffs. I closed my eyes and said a quick no and apology, realizing I must have not noticed the starting bell.
My lower lip trembled at the mere unfairness of it all as I sank into my seat. Several students snickered and openly laughed at my display. I sighed, nearly falling out of my seat when an odd vibration shimmied down my arm.
I flipped open the screen of my phone, jaw dropping at the familiar image that I had been a part of not too long ago. Below it, it said, "Now we're even." I glared at the message, quickly deleting it from my inbox.
Another one immediately showed up in its place. "So, what about your virginity?"
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Poke.
I clenched my fingers around the smooth curve of my pencil.
Poke.
I squirmed in my seat, straightening and arching my back away from the foreign touch.
Poke. Poke.
The familiar throbbing of my forehead returned. "What?!" I hissed darkly, turning on the boy next to me.
Brown eyes rounded into soft chocolate pools, and soft lips formed an innocent pout. "Taemin," Came the response from the red head seated next to me. His head was pressed against the glossy surface of a magazine spread out on top of his desk like usual.
I stilled. "Sarah." I said quietly.
"Sarah?" Taemin repeated, rolling the syllables in his mouth. He cocked his head lightly, a familiar playful glint shining in his eyes. "As in 'princess?'"
I scowled at the jab and turned back to my work.
"Sarah," He called out again.
I eyed him carefully.
The playful glint was gone, and I saw nothing but seriousness and...wistfulness on his face. "What was it like? What's America like?" He asked.
I hesitated. "It was home." I responded genuinely.
His eyes became dusty, misty almost as he thought over my response. "I heard the stage was amazing. Someday, I want to perform under the city lights. On a stage. For a crowd of people screaming my name." He whispered.
"You dance?"
His eyes became empty. "Used to."
I squinted at him deftly. Something felt...off about him.
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I slammed a photo on top of his desk, disturbing a few worksheets. "I thought you said you didn't dance." I said menacingly.
He looked at the picture through his bangs. "This," He said, pointing to the picture. "Isn't dancing."
He turned back to his work. I scowled and slanted him a look.
"SHINee's dancing prodigy, Lee Taemin. There isn't anything about you that doesn't scream dancer."
Which was very true, from his lean muscles to the random splashes of color on his uniform to his startling red hair.
"This isn't dancing. This is work. They're different." He snapped lightly.
"I beg to differ."
He stopped in his work and looked up at me with an even gaze. "Skyler Sarah, art scholarship student, winning piece - me."
"You researched me?!" I asked astounded.
"Like you said, this is an international school. Not just anyone can get in," He said offhandedly.
I blushed, unable to say anything to defend myself. Taemin smiled wen he noticed my fidgeting.
"Tell me - who's your bias."
The blush grew darker. "I don't know - "
"In SHINee," He cut me off. "Who is your ultimate bias?"
"It's not you if that's what you're asking." I said, voice firm but my blush detracted from the look.
He smirked. "I beg to differ." He said, stealing the word straight out of my mouth, and pulling out a very large sized sketchbook from his bag. "According to the scholarship committee, these aren't the only images you've drawn of me."
I squeaked, ripping the book from his hands. How he got my sketchbook I would never know, how he found out I submitted a sketch of him for my application portfolio, now that could use some answers. If only I could stop blushing and spluttering long enough to ask.
Taemin grinned as he rose from his chair and collected his things. Once everything was put away hew walked up to me, and lightly whispered in my ear,"They're pretty. And just between you and me, you're my all time number one bias too."
He smelled vaguely of mint.
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"Who the fuck do you think you are, walking into this school like you own the place?!"
I glanced at the alleyway from where I had heard the voice. It was an open alley, one which you could easily gaze into at any angle.
I grimaced when I saw a tall bulky guy stabbing his foot into the stomach of the boy curled up by his feet. There were a few other guys hovering around him, each just as bulky and disgusting as the next. All of them wore my school's uniform, albeit hazardously. They looked horrid. Definitely not the type of guys girls ought to get involved in.
I quickly looked away and continued on my path.
"Lets see if you can dance anymore without these."
I stopped, whirling around to look at the scene. It was like I had a sixth sense for this stuff, but then again, it didn't take much to connect the dots - my school uniform and an egotistic dancer; there was only one.
My jaw dropped open when I saw a familiar red headed boy retching over the asphalt, blood spilling out of his mouth.
I closed my eyes. Lee Taemin was certainly the last person who I wanted to see.
And from the look of things, I peeked open an eye, he was in more trouble than he should have been. His legs were spread apart, held down by two other guys, and one of the boys had a metal pole in his hand, poised to take out his left leg.
I cursed and thought fast, rifling through my grocery bag. At the bottom of the plastic bag laid a can of navy blue aerosol paint I had specifically gotten for repainting my bedroom furniture. Sacrifices had to be made. I grabbed the top of the bottle and smashed the rest against the brick opening of the path.
One of the boys noticed and looked up, glaring at me with angry eyes.
"What the fuck - "
Paint started to leak out in a hurried river from the small puncture in the body of the canister and I threw it at the group.
There were several screams of anger and foul language when paint started splashing around them, inking everything in its path. It was a distraction and that was all I needed.
I surged in, laying low and avoiding the boys lost in the blue haze, grabbed Taemin, and hightailed out of there. Luckily for me he was still conscious, bleeding and bruised but conscious and energetic enough to run.
We laced our hands together as we wordlessly took off, stopping every now and then to let Taemin regain his breath and his footing.
I couldn't bring myself to even look at him in his state. I didn't want to see him marred.
We ended up at my house, and I couldn't be more pleased that my father wasn't at home, but rather at work. It made things that much easier. I took Taemin to my room, ordered him to strip, and ran off to my bathroom in search of the first aid kit.
I threw out several bottles of aspirin and other medications from their place in the medicine cabinet in my frantic haste.
I felt like I was fighting against time.
Relief flooded my senses when I wrapped my fingers around the square profile of the white box, and pulled it out. I made my way back to Taemin, who was laying in my bed, shirt abandoned on the floor.
I crawled on to the mattress, my hands were shaking as I tore open the lid of the box. I pulled out various medicines from ointments to salves.
My vision began to blur as I tugged off the cap of one of the tubes of ointment.
A soft hand stopped mine.
"Why are you crying?" Taemin asked.
I reached up to touch my cheeks and noticed that I had in fact been crying - still was.
"Why did they hurt you?" I asked, voice trembling as I spoke. I quickly wiped away the tears.
He looked thoughtful, and I desperately tried to ignore the blue bruise raised on his cheek. "Because I'm somebody, and they're not. But of course it's not like that," He mumbled, releasing my arm and closing his eyes. "In this world, I'm nobody."
My blood ran cold and I stared at him with shock. "You're Lee Taemin - of SHINee - you are somebody!" I said, disbelief coloring my face.
He opened his eye and gave me an analytical look. "I'm only Lee Taemin of SHINee."
"I don't understand." I retorted, angry at his obvious ignorance.
"Have you ever considered the fact that one day, this will all be over?" He asked quietly.
I furrowed my eyebrows.
"SHINee, Super Junior, SNSD," He listed. "One day all of this will be over, and then what will I be?"
I gaped at him, but in the back of my mind I knew what he said was making sense. Everything he was saying made perfect sense.
"I'll be nobody. Without SHINee I'm nobody." He finished, looking up at the ceiling with glazed eyes.
"I used to dance when I was younger - before all of this. I used to dance. But now....this...this doesn't feel like dancing. This feels like dying."
"You're wrong." I said suddenly, words falling from my lips without my consent. "Without you SHINee is nobody." I argued. "Without you there is no meaning to performances or dancing. Without you...there isn't a SHINee."
He sighed as he looked at me and asked, "Why do you like me?"
I blushed. "You need to work on that forwardness of yours," I grumbled.
He smiled and reached out to hold my hand. "I always dreamed of dancing on Broadway - on a stage in New York." He flashed me a soft wistful smile.
"Next time I go, I'll take you with me." I promised.
His smile brighten, and his eyes became crescent moons. "Will you cheer for me.?"
I hesitated. "Always." I whispered quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest.
"Welcome to Korea," He said with gentle eyes, settling back into my bed, and letting me do my work.