(no subject)
title cut sleeve summer
a/n it's been eight months since i started this fic and part of me didn't want to finish it because what else would i do? i guess that's what i'll be working on next.
x-posted to tumblr
“What about your knee pads, hyung?”
“I’m not doing anything rough today.” Jonghyun tugged at the laces till the skate was clinging to his foot before bending his second foot closer and repeating the motion. “Its summer so the club’s out. I just want to feel the wind, you know?”
His neighbor, Taemin, nodded till his thick black hair was tumbling down into his eyes. He was a sweet kid, eager to please and always ready to listen. When he first moved here a year ago, he would make it a point to watch Jonghyun preparing for his evening jaunts at the local skatepark. It was three streets from their house and Jonghyun had been skating there for as long as he could remember.
Clacking past Taemin’s house - noisy in his cheap, plastic skates - he had noticed the way the new boy’s eyes would fix on him. One day he had stopped to talk and now it was kind of a ritual for him to strap up in Taemin’s lawn. Taemin even stocked up on sunblock for him.
“So no helmet?” the boy asked, looking around.
“No.” Jonghyun grinned.
“Your mom is not going to like that very much,” Taemin said skeptically.
“She’s out of town. Anyway I told you, today I’m taking it easy as peas.”
“You’re not taking your board?”
“Not today.”
Jonghyun ran a hand through his bleached hair. Below the bright top layer was a brunette undercut - his natural color. He liked the way the breeze felt on the back of his neck.
“My mom got me the new H.O.T tape.”
“Sweet.” Jonghyun whistled. “When are you letting me borrow it?”
“After I listen to it, of course.” Taemin gave him an impish smile. He had really opened up. Jonghyun shook his head and turned his attention back to his skates. He ran his fingers over the wheels. The afternoon wind really was working its way through his jersey; maybe because he had cut the sleeves off and in their place were long, gaping holes. He was often told he would be better off without a shirt altogether but it wasn’t like he was trying to show off. It was just the way he liked his clothes.
Taemin stared up at him as he jumped to his feet.
“I’m off,” he announced with a small salute. “See you around, kid.”
He sped down their shared driveway, barely catching Taemin’s reply.
“I’m not a kid.”
He laughed. The wheels on his skates were a little worn, which meant he felt each bump on the pavement in his teeth and he loved it. He lived for this feeling. He had never been good at sports, he didn’t have the stamina for martial arts and he was still waiting on his growth spurt (are you reading this, God?). His wheels were all he had and he loved each dust-ridden, rickety one.
He tried to keep it in check though. There was a week not too long ago he had sped through the intersection near the grocer’s and ignored the resounding screech that had sounded behind him. It had turned out to be his mother and wow, had he paid for that one.
He eased to a halt at the edge of the pavement and waited for the light at the crossing to turn green. It hummed as it ticked off the seconds till he could kick off again. His legs were vibrating with the effort of keeping still. He pulled his sunglasses out of his shorts’ pocket and slipped them on. They were a hand-me-down from his cousin in Seoul and, in his opinion, looked pretty damn cool. The glass was blue and mirrored everything around it. He was excited to show them off at the park, or the 180 as they called it. It had a straight-up obstacle course and two wooden ramps, one in the shape of an infinity symbol. The other one was a simple egg bowl. They were both flat ramps and although Jonghyun itched to try out a proper pipe, he couldn’t. The nearest one was a good 45 minutes away.
He rolled into the park with ease, dodging the little obstacles the others had set up. He was feeling a bit lazy today, maybe because it was the first day of summer vacation. There was something off though - there’s no way everyone was feeling that lazy. But for some reason, they were all standing stock still at the edge of the bowl. He skated up to them, drawing to a halt by grabbing Yiyun’s shoulder.
“What is going on?” he hissed. There was a boy - a tall boy, Jonghyun noted unhappily - sitting on the edge with a shiny new skateboard by his feet. Someone said something and he smiled into his palm.
Yiyun slung an arm over his shoulder to draw him closer. “That boy’s from Seoul. And you know who backs him?” She didn’t wait for Jonghyun to guess. “Kadence.”
Jonghyun’s eyes roved over the boy again. “No fucking way,” he announced. “He looks like a pansy.” The girl in front of him turned around and shot him a glare. “Pretty boy’s probably too scared to muss up his hair,” he added loudly. Maybe a little too loudly. The new boy looked up and straight at him. The crowd drifted to either side, like it was the Red Sea and Jonghyun’s loud mouth was fucking Moses.
“Sorry, man,” Jonghyun said half-heartedly. He wasn’t sorry at all. Everyone knew a sponsored skater was a sellout skater.
The other boy seemed to think for a second before he said, “It’s no problem.” His voice was low and measured; the exact opposite of Jonghyun’s. “I have to go anyway.”
“But you’ll be back, right?” Yiyun asked, ignoring Jonghyun’s indignant squawk.
“Yes,” the boy confirmed. He looked almost shy about it. “I have nowhere else to go.” His smile was toothy and cute, and Jonghyun could practically smell everyone around him falling in love with it. It made him want to gag. Skating was about adrenaline, not adorable boys.
Fuck, wait, he didn’t mean to call him adorable. He hated him. He was a corporate stooge, a buck-boarder, this- this-
I don’t even know his name, Jonghyun realized.
“Yah,” he whispered as the crowd around them scattered. “What’s Miss Korea’s name?”
Yiyun shot him a dirty look. “Choi Minho. He’s in the Kadence catalogue but you wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Nobody looks at the catalogues for the models, duh.” Jonghyun stretched up till the knot in his spine cracked.
“Not all of us are skate-sexual like you.”
“I am not skate-sexual, what the fuck.”
“Your actions suggest otherwise.”
“Whatever.” Jonghyun snapped. “Are we gonna skate or what?”
Yiyun laughed. “We are, we are. Sorry I got distracted by the pretty boy.” She raised her palms as a gesture of peace. “I’m only human.”
“Blind. You’re only blind,” Jonghyun corrected.
“Well, I must be because I can’t see you wearing any gear.”
He skated into the bowl. “Grab your board, it’s your lucky day,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m here to give you tips.”
Yiyun followed him with a loud thump of her wheelbase against the edge. She really needed the help. “And to what do I owe this great” - Jonghyun swelled - “annoyance?” and deflated.
“You owe it to your complete incompetence,” he said, reveling in the easy glide of his skates. “And I know how you can repay me too.”
“I’m not buying you the fluorescent green Vans, they are abhorrent.” Yiyun pretended to gag as she crossed him.
“I meant buy me a daegi ba and the shoes are great.” Jonghyun scowled. Yiyun was a cool girl but she had no fashion sense. Part of being a skater was looking like you were one. It earned you respect. Neatly pressed shorts and stiff shirts wouldn’t cut it either, he thought with a snort. That Choi Minho kid really had a lot coming.
“Earth to Jonghyun,” Yiyun yelled and he braked. He had been drifting aimlessly around the bottom of the bowl.
“Tell you want, Yunnie.” He turned to her. “If you can do a full Ollie over the southern rail, I’ll buy you ice cream. How does that sound?”
She smirked. “Sounds like you’re about to eat dust.”
“Buying ice cream for your sister?” the man behind the counter asked him pleasantly.
Jonghyun shrugged. He and Yiyun often got mistaken for siblings and it just wasn’t worth the effort to deny it. His real sister was back home, probably staring at a poster of H.O.T with love-struck eyes. He ripped the bar free of its bear-patterned wrapper, dropping it in the bin on his way out, and handed the unobstructed goods to his waiting friend.
“I thought you would fall,” he said miserably.
Yiyun bared her teeth and took a big bite. “You really know how to win a girl over,” she said cheerfully and clapped him on the shoulder. “And hey, wasn’t the entire purpose of today to help me improve?”
Jonghyun kicked a can of diet soda out of their way. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You look even crankier than usual. What’s up?”
The shorter way of saying it was, No one noticed my sunglasses, but it sounds painfully lame. The longer way was even worse - I’m feeling shitty because this new, handsome kid showed up and he obviously skates better than I do, even though I’ve been skate-off champion two years in a row.
He settled for, “I don’t like it when new kids skate the 180.”
Yiyun grinned around her popsicle. “You’re threatened.”
“I am not threatened, I’m just not,” Jonghyun scanned the area with a scowl, as if looking for inspiration, “I’m just not ready to let in some teenage geezer.” He jerked his head towards the pair of nice, retired old men crossing the road.
“He’s not a geezer.” Yiyun laughed.
“He’s not a skater either,” Jonghyun said defensively.
“God, you’re really a mess when Key isn’t around. Should I call him back?”
“Yes, but only because I’m bored and you’re terrible company.”
“Watch it, Kim.” Yiyun wagged the remnants of her icy treat. “I won’t hesitate to shove this down your pants and I doubt your blue balls need it.”
Jonghyun grinded to a halt. “My balls are none of your business.”
“Not yet.”
“Gross!”
“You need to grow up.” Yiyun tossed the wooden skeleton of her ice cream aside. “And then maybe shit like a new kid will stop bothering you. Why don’t you go jerk off to Olivia Hussey or something?”
Jonghyun stuck his fingers in his ears.
“Your legs look like a drunk man tried to chop down a tree.”
“Thanks, noona,” Jonghyun said, examining them proudly.
“It’s not a compliment.”
“It is to me!”
“True.” So Dam, his sister, sighed. Jonghyun shot her a curious look.
“Why are you in my room anyway?”
“We need to buy a gift for mom.”
Jonghyun put his Gameboy down. His back went ramrod straight. “I totally forgot.”
So Dam dropped down in his study chair. “Well then you’re lucky you have me around. Meet me at the mall after my shift tomorrow? We can pick something up.”
“Cool. What time?”
“Like around seven. And, Jonghyun,” she leaned forward tight-lipped, sounding eerily like their mother, “seven means seven o’clock. Seven doesn’t mean hit the 180 for three hours and show up looking half-dead o’clock.”
“Right. Got it.”
It was lonely at the top.
The first year Jonghyun had won the summer skate-off, everyone at the 180 had shrugged it off as a fluke. They had decided it didn’t mean much, even if it got him a shiny new skateboard and a 3 x 4 cm mention in the local daily. The second year they hadn’t been as kind. The touted champion had suffered an injury at the last second. So although Jonghyun won, they all wondered if he really had, including himself. It only made him more determined to win again. If he could prove himself, perhaps he could get the 180 back on his side. He did have Yiyun and a few others, but the crowds that thronged the new boy had left no room for doubt.
The people wanted a new king.
His mother always told him to shrug off his skate park politics but Jonghyun was a hot-headed boy.
“Minho’s not here today,” Su Ji, a girl from his sister’s school remarked sadly the next day.
Jonghyun waved off the cigarette she was offering. “We don’t need a city boy like him to cramp our style.”
“The only thing he’s going to be cramping is your neck when he skates circles around you,” Jae said with a smirk that dove right under Jonghyun’s skin.
He pushed off the wall. “You wanna say that to my face?”
The older boy pretended to think. “Do I wanna bend that far down? No.”
“Let me come up then.”
“Fuck, what did you do?” So Dam hissed, her eyes darting around. “You’re scaring the customers” - she lifted a part of the counter - “get back here, come on. Just sit on the floor, I’ll get some ice.”
Jonghyun’s face was throbbing and he couldn’t really remember the time in between. The next thing he knew So Dam was pressing something hard and cold to his rapidly swelling eye.
“Jonghyun,” she warned.
“I punched Jae,” he murmured. He wanted to look away or close her out - she looked livid - but his eye hurt like a mother and his eyelid just kind of drooped halfway helplessly.
She sighed. “And he punched you back?”
“And he’s like six feet.” Jonghyun grimaced.
He stared his sister with his good eye. She had actually laughed.
“Well, runt,” she ruffled his hair, “I hope that teaches you a lesson. How are you feeling?”
“Alive,” Jonghyun said, just to be a little shit.
“You’re not allowed to rent movies for two weeks.”
“Hey!”
“Be happy I’m not telling mom and don’t ever try a stupid line like that on me again.” So Dam narrowed her eyes. The concern shining in them, however, was rapidly eclipsing any threats. She got to her feet and dusted her jeans. “Keep the pack there. I’ll be done in another 15, we can go shop then.”
Jonghyun groaned. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” his sister said emphatically. “There’s no reason our mother should have to bear the consequences of your warmongering.”
His sister - his kind, angelic sister - kept him out late enough that he could make it to his bed without his mother shrieking the house down. By morning his eye was considerably less battered (he almost missed the bruise, to him it was a badge of honour; his, to be specific). To be safe, he had So Dam cook up some cock and bull story about him falling down the escalator at the mall.
His mother looked at him and sighed deeply as if to say, what am I going to do with you, before turning back to the eggs.
Jonghyun let out his breath in one long whoosh. He had been spared.
“No, sir, I do not want a self-rocking chair. I am asking you t-” his father was yelling into the phone on the other side of the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” he asked his sister.
“Dad’s midlife crisis.”
“Yes, precisely, I am not interested. No, I don’t want a regular one either!”
Jonghyun snickered into his spoonful of cereal.
“No, what I am asking,” his father said loudly, “is for you to stop spamming my mail box, I don’t want any of your crap!”
“Language,” their mother interjected. It sounded more like a reflex than a genuine admonishment and Jonghyun laughed again.
The cacophony at the breakfast table was almost loud enough for him to forget how, in 2 minutes and 37 seconds, Choi Minho had turned his world upside down.
Jonghyun walked into Mashi Diner that weekend with his leather jacket fluttering in the wind. It was entirely too hot and he was going to shrug it off once he was in their booth but it was good for making an entrance.
The place was buzzing. He could recognize most of the people around him but he ignored them in favor of Yiyun and Hae Sol. He slowed as he got closer, frowning as a third figure came into view. He examined the back of that head, brunette and 100% unrecognizable.
“Yo,” he said and all three turned around.
“About time,” said Yiyun.
“’Sup,” said Hae Sol.
“Hello,” said Choi Minho.
What in the fudge licking hell.
Jonghyun walked over to the other side of the booth, forcing his friends to scoot in and ignoring the look Yiyun shot him. He sat down as aggressively as he could.
“So,” he said loudly after three minutes of awkward silence.
“It’s nice to meet you again.” Minho gave him a small smile.
Jonghyun studied his features for something that would betray the sincerity in his voice. He found nothing. A clock ticked loudly above their heads.
“Your upper lip is weird,” he blurted out. “And you have a lisp.”
Minho’s eyes went wide.
“I want a milkshake!” Yiyun said shrilly. She shoved Hae Sol into Jonghyun, who shoved Jonghyun clean out of the booth. “Jonghyun, follow, now,” she hissed as she stalked past him.
“Fuck,” she exploded once they were out of earshot. “Can’t you socialize like a normal human being?”
Jonghyun focused on the small zit blooming on her left cheek. He knew he had just displayed some ratified asshole behavior but he had no idea why. What was it about Minho that made it impossible for him to function? He shook his head.
“Look, I’m sorry. Can we just go back? I’ll be on my best behavior.” He added a pout for effect and a smile lifted the corners of Yiyun’s lips.
“Alright, alright,” and they traipsed back to their booth.
Jae and Minho were caught up in conversation.
“And then,” Minho said with a warble of laughter, “she skated right off the edge and landed face first in the bowl.”
Jae slapped the table. “Shit! Did she break something?”
“Only her ego,” Minho said wickedly. So he did have a personality.
“May I?” Jonghyun coughed and Jae got up slowly. He was eyeing Jonghyun like a superhero eyes a ticking nuke. He resisted the urge to flip him the bird and slid in first. This time he was right opposite Minho.
“How was the milkshake?”
“What?” Jonghyun’s eyes darted to Yiyun.
“It was great, Minho, thank you for asking,” she said tightly.
Jonghyun let out a breath. It had been so long since he had talked to someone new about things other than skating, skateboards and different tricks to do when skating on your skateboard. He wouldn’t say he was a withdrawn person. He was just… intense and he knew it scared most people off. He was also usually slow in his words and his reactions. His insomnia was two years old now and his body was different when the sun was up and different when it went down. He was still feeling his way around that.
“I have some chocolate.” One of Minho’s hands dived into his bag and pulled out a Kit Kat.
“Nice!” Jae whooped.
Jonghyun watched in trepidation as Minho unwrapped it. He slid the silver foil off and ran a neat nail down each groove, driving it deeper, before snapping the chocolate and handing everyone a fourth. The last one went to Jonghyun.
“Here,” Minho said, nudging his hand with it.
“Thank you.”
“What are you doing here?” Minho looked at him in surprise.
“Skating,” Jonghyun said. “What are you doing here?”
Minho’s lips did a thing where they managed to talk and purse in amusement at the same time. “I’m here with my neighbour’s son, Yoogeun.” He pointed at a small, curly-haired figure a few feet from them. The boy turned around at the sound of his name.
Jonghyun whistled. “You sure he’s not your son?”
“Not that I know of,” Minho said, eyes twinkling. They were as bright and unblemished as that Yoogeun kid’s, maybe even more. Stupid Choi Minho with his stupidly small face and stupidly long legs.
Jonghyun blinked. “I should go.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, I’m supposed to be supervising,” he explained.
“I didn’t know you worked here!”
“I don’t,” Jonghyun said mutinously. “I’m filling in for a friend. She figured since I know how to skate, I’d be the perfect replacement or some shit. But let’s be real, no one comes here to skate except amateurs and little brats. No offence,” he added, jerking his head at Minho’s kid (he hadn’t really answered Jonghyun’s question).
“None taken.” Minho shrugged. “So I guess you don’t like kids?”
“I don’t like brats,” Jonghyun corrected. “Any kid that managed to drag his poor parents, or neigbour,” he sniggered, “to this screamfest is obviously a brat.”
“It is rather loud.” Minho looked around. “Shouldn’t you be helping these kids? Maybe they would scream less.”
“I know how to do my job.” Jonghyun scowled. “And this isn’t my job anyway. Plus I don’t like little boys.”
“So you like little girls?”
“I didn’t mean it like that, stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Cute.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said you’re cute,” Minho repeated coolly. “And a bit of a brat too, no wonder your friend thought you would fit in.”
“I am not a bra-”
“Anyway I should probably go help Yoogeun since you won’t. See you around,” Minho grinned, “hyung.”
Jonghyun liked skateboarding shirtless. He liked the way the sun felt on his back, toasting it up, the stares from the other kids rolling off it like waves off a beach. He felt alive in those few seconds he was up in the air, where nothing could reach him except the wind and the sunlight and maybe a stray butterfly.
Minho could make it to the air too, he found out, the day after next. He had tucked his unruly hair under a fake Lakers cap and his tall figure swayed lazily across their ragamuffin obstacle course. He just laughed when the more aggressive of their friends tossed things in his way, kick flipping over them with practiced ease.
He ground the back of his deck down the rail and gritted his teeth in time with it.
“What’s up?” Yiyun looked up at him curiously.
His descent was clumsy. “Nothing,” he insisted. She didn’t look convinced. She followed his gaze and clicked her tongue.
“Are you still going to give Minho shit about existing?”
“I am not giving him shit about existing. I told you,” Jonghyun thumbed the sweat off his upper lip, “I don’t like new kids.”
“You don’t like the fact that everybody likes him.”
“This is a skate park, not a popularity contest.”
“Oh, so you do know.”
The truth is Jonghyun is used to people having opinions about him. He’s used to them sniggering when he falls and clapping when he does a perfect run. He has few friends - even fewer in school. He’s not a bright student. He does have one other thing he likes to do. He likes to sing. But that thought hasn’t crossed his mind since he failed the choir audition.
He doesn’t know how to deal with people like Minho. People who call him cute and ruffle his hair. Sure, Yiyun does it and so does So Dam. But it doesn’t feel the same. It doesn’t make him want to take off down the nearest alleyway. It doesn’t reach his toes. It doesn’t make him feel like someone is watching him in ways he can’t control. Minho wasn’t watching him skate, he was watching him do everything but skate. He had noticed that Jonghyun hadn’t finished his milkshake. He had noticed him again at the skating rink. And now he was here, in the only place Jonghyun had left.
“You know what,” Jonghyun hefted his board into his armpit, “I’m out.”
“Hey,” Yuyin shouted after him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he muttered. “It’s okay.”
“You know, when I take a vacation, it means I need a break from things. That includes you.”
Jonghyun wrapped the cord around his wrist and pulled. “Yeah, well, get over it.”
“Did you hit your head again?”
“No.” He paused. “I wish I had. Then I might have some fucking clue what’s going on.”
“And you have no fucking clue right now?”
“Not one rat’s ass worth.”
“Elegant,” Kibum remarked. “What did he do?”
“Who?” Jonghyun protested.
“You know who! Come on.” Kibum made a noise of impatience. “I don’t have all day.”
“He didn’t do anything.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Yes. No.” Jonghyun rolled over onto his stomach. “I don’t know.”
“What do you want him to do?”
“Nothing! Somethi- anything! He’s too nice to me. He’s my rival. He’s supposed to trip me on my transfers.”
“He’s a pro.” Kibum hummed. “Maybe he doesn’t play dirty.”
“Kibum, everybody plays dirty. Plus he’s a city boy!”
“You are so jaded, what happened?”
“You,” Jonghyun said, just to be a brat.
“It’s not me, it’s him.”
“What about him?” Jonghyun screwed his eyes shut and imagined Minho’s foot kicking him in the face. He couldn’t let his guard down. The skate-off was less then a month away.
“Something obviously or you wouldn’t be so hung up on him!” Kibum sounded exasperated. “Have you two even talked or do you just eye-stab him from a distance?”
“We have.” Jonghyun shuddered. “He’s really nice.”
“And you’re a dick. Leave the poor boy alone. It’s a strange place, maybe he’s just trying to make friends.” There was the Kibum he knew.
“He doesn’t need to make friends out of my friends. Or do the things I like. Or be better at them.” Jonghyun crushed his face into his pillow. “It’s not fair.”
“Hyung,” Kibum said gently. “You realize Minho is free to do what he wants, right?”
“Of course.” Jonghyun’s voice sounds squashed, just like his left cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it or be party to it!”
“To his evil plan?” His friend sounded amused.
“The evilest.” He traced the crease in his bed sheet. “He’s trying to replace me.”
“He can’t,” Kibum said firmly. “He just wants to be your friend so stop freaking out.”
“He called me cute,” Jonghyun whispered and boy, did he regret it.
“What?!” Kibum screamed from the other end of South Korea.
“He was making fun of me!”
Even after he explained the situation, Kibum was not convinced.
“You’re an idiot,” he said, by way of explanation. “Minho is so nice to you and so fucking forward and you’re an idiot.”
“What does that mean?” Jonghyun groaned.
“Hyung,” Kibum said carefully, “I know you’re like, dead inside or whatever but I think Minho likes you. Or wants to anyway.”
There is a minute of complete silence and then:
“What?”
“It sounds like it,” Kibum murmured. “Yeah, the more I think about it, the more sense it makes.”
“My head hurts.” Jonghyun pressed into the pillow harder.
“Maybe you just need to get laid.”
He snorted. “Like you ever have.”
There was a second pause, one that was entirely too long.
“I have actually.”
Jonghyun sat up. “What?” he said. “When?”
“A few weeks go,” Kibum admitted. He sounded uncomfortable. “It’s not a big dea-”
“Of course it’s a big deal! What, so is this what we are now? We don’t tell each other shit anymore?”
“No, we do!” He was panicking. “It’s just this is such an awkward topic and I didn’t know how to start. It was so sudden and random, I didn’t want you think I was som-”
“So you’d rather let me think you’re my friend when you’re actually not?” Jonghyun breathed.
“Jjong, it’s not such a bi-”
“Thanks for the memo.”
He threw the receiver across the room.
“Jonghyun, come down already!” His sister hollered. Jonghyun pulled his pillow tighter around his head. He knew his father would send her up if he wasn’t at the table in five minutes. He rolled out of bed - barely upright - kind of just hung of it halfway and looked at everything with mistrust. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so betrayed. He just was.
The idea of someone… doing things to Kibum was disgusting. It was alien. He didn’t want to think about it but it was all he could think about now. It wasn’t jealousy. At least he had managed to figure that bit out. There was just an undeniable weirdness between them now - there was a part of Kibum’s life he wouldn’t know. A part where Kibum would laugh and cry and sing without him. His best friend of ten years. He hated it.
“What’s wrong with you?”
He paused in the middle of dragging the ramen up his tongue and down his throat.
“Nothing.” He swallowed emphatically.
“Did you hear about Taemin?”
Jonghyun looked up. “What about him?”
“He’s doing a solo recital next week. His mother invited us. You should come too. Show him some support.”
“Taemin is a wonderful boy,” his mother chimed in. “He must be so happy!”
Jonghyun held back a snort. Taemin hated ballet. He got bullied for it all the time but he felt like his parents had put too much into it for him to quit. It was quite the conundrum.
“The kid’s an artist,” his father boomed approvingly. “Pass me the rice please.” He scooped a generous clump on to his plate. “Unlike this one here. Do you think you’ll be able to skate through life? You could learn something from Taemin.”
The cold indifference under Jonghyun’s skin started to boil.
“Yeah?” He gritted his teeth. “Like?”
“Like commitment, hard work,” his father looked at him levelly. “How to actually be good at something.”
“Jjong is really good at skating,” So Damn defended and his mother nodded.
“Alright.” His father shrugged. “Let me know when you can skate far enough to pay the bills.”
“I will.” He scowled.
“Jonghyun! Don’t talk back to your fath-”
“Enough. I’ve had a long day.”
They finished their meal in silence.
He went to the 180 as soon as the sun was up.
It was empty except for two tall figures - Minho and Minkyung. Jonghyun was surprised to see the girl there. She was in his class and they talked often. He had never realized she was interested in boarding.
He rolled into the park noisily and they turned around.
“Hey.” He raised one arm.
“Jonghyun!” Minkyung smiled. “Long time no see.”
Minho looked between them curiously.
“Minnie here is teaching me how to skateboard,” she said with a touch to Minho’s arm. “I’m really bad but he’s super patient.”
“Oh,” was all Jonghyun could offer. “Good luck, I guess.”
“Thanks.”
He pushed off again, to the other end of the park. In the thick morning air their voices still carried to him but he ignored them in favor of warming up. His father’s words were dancing through his brain, Kibum’s betrayal still fresh in his blood. He had a lot to let out. He started off simply, just boarding lazily around the objects that littered the ground - glass bottles, uneven pebbles, a crowbar.
He did this till his legs were throbbing pleasantly. But his mind proved more stubborn. He decided something tougher would force it out of its misery and hopped on to a rail. He balanced on the level part - teetering back and forth. A voice reached him.
“You’re improving.”
“Only because of you!” More flirtatiously, “You should let me pay you back.”
“There’s no need, noona.”
“But I want to! How about dinner toni-”
There was a loud crash.
It took him a few seconds to realize the crash had been him.
“Jonghyun!” He screwed his eyes shut as pain shot through his head. He had banged it hard and it hurt like a mother. A pair of footsteps stopped next to him.
“Hyung,” Minho said. He sounded worried. “Are you okay? Can you talk?”
Jonghyun groaned, more out of frustration than pain. He didn’t need this right now. He didn’t need it.
“Noona, I think I should help Jonghyun hyung. Do you mind if we finish another time?”
“No, it’s fine.” Jonghyun thought it was commendable how rationed the disappointment in her voice was. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
A sharp pair of footsteps walked away from them.
“Hyung?” Minho tried again.
“I’m here,” Jonghyun snapped. “Give a man a second. I just plunged to my death.”
“Oh.” Minho crouched down. “Alright. I just wanted to make sure it’s not a concussion.”
Jonghyun paled. He had no idea about that stuff. “How can you tell?”
“Who invented the impossible?”
The way Minho phrased it had Jonghyun thinking for a second. “Mullen,” he said finally.
“We’re good.”
Jonghyun turned his head and saw Minho smiling. It knocked the wind out of him all over again.
“I fell.”
“You did.”
“I never fall,” he said, amazed.
“Maybe you were sleepy? It happens, it was probably a timing thing.”
“That’s a serious thing.” Jonghyun rolled onto his side. Pain flashed across his face again.
“Hyung.” Minho waddled closer. He looked like an overgrown duck. “Let me help you, come on. You can’t stay here forever.”
He let Minho ease him up. It took a lot of hands in uncomfortable places but he would be damned before he got up from that fall himself. Every inch of him was crushed by concrete and sore. With Minho’s help - yet again - he was able to hobble over to the nearest bench.
He made a small noise as Minho, back in duck position, pulled his leg straight and examined it. He pressed against a rapidly coloring patch of skin and tears sprung to Jonghyun’s eyes.
“That’s going to hurt,” Minho said.
Jonghyun nodded silently. He still couldn’t believe he had fallen. This had to be a sign of, well, something. Something terrible.
“Are you crying?” Minho leaned in. “Fuck, you are.”
Jonghyun panicked and pushed him. He barely managed to steady himself in time.
“Hyung,” he said in a concerned, velvety voice that made Jonghyun want to scream. Instead he just cried harder. “What happened?”
“I never fall,” Jonghyun sobbed. It was stupid and lame but he wasn’t willing to say any more. He just wanted Minho to stop being so nice because it made him want to do things he didn’t do. He was Kim Jonghyun, skateboarder extraordinaire, not Romeo ‘except he's gay’ Montague.
Minho stretched to full height and put a hand on his hair. “It’s alright,” he said. “You’re alright.”
Tears mixed with snot as they ran down Jonghyun’s ruddy face. He was red from the crying and the utter mortification of having cried in front of a dude he barely knew who, according to Jonghyun’s best friend, wanted to wife him.
He wiped his face on his sleeve - thank God he had one, it was a chilly morning - and waited for Minho to move his hand. A minute passed and it was still there. He peered up through his bangs, along the length of Minho’s handsome forearm to find the younger boy was looking away, giving him his privacy, and a rush of affection hit him like lightning hits an unsuspecting sky.
“I should go,” he said hoarsely.
The hand on his head slid down and cupped his ear. Minho kept it steady as he lowered himself to meet Jonghyun’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
Jonghyun’s heart jumped into his throat.
“Yes, yes, I’ll be fi- my board, where’s my board, is it alri-”
“It’s fine.” Minho frowned. “Are you really sure?” he asked.
Jonghyun nodded and Minho’s palm brushed the hot skin of his earlobe. Fuck, he was acting like such a virgin.
“I do this all the time,” he tried to explain. “I mean cry, not fall. I mean I don’t cry all the time… I cry sometimes. But when I do cry, I cry hard, you know?”
“Okay,” Minho said uncertainly and suddenly Jonghyun wished he did have a concussion. His communication skills certainly had one. “How about a milkshake?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Let’s go get one.” Minho smiled. “It’ll get you some energy. You fell pretty hard.”
Not hard enough to go on a date with you, Jonghyun thought wildly.
“You don’t want to have a milkshake with me,” he said nervously. “I’m a fallen man, remember?”
Minho burst out laughing. “Yes, I remember,” he said with one last giggle, “and yes, I still want to have a milkshake with you.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Jonghyun briefly considered sprinting down to the nearest payphone and calling Kibum for advice. But he didn’t think he could manage it without Minho noticing and there was no way Minho wouldn’t notice because he was ten freaking inches from Jonghyun’s hyperventilating mind, body and soul.
>>
a/n it's been eight months since i started this fic and part of me didn't want to finish it because what else would i do? i guess that's what i'll be working on next.
x-posted to tumblr
“What about your knee pads, hyung?”
“I’m not doing anything rough today.” Jonghyun tugged at the laces till the skate was clinging to his foot before bending his second foot closer and repeating the motion. “Its summer so the club’s out. I just want to feel the wind, you know?”
His neighbor, Taemin, nodded till his thick black hair was tumbling down into his eyes. He was a sweet kid, eager to please and always ready to listen. When he first moved here a year ago, he would make it a point to watch Jonghyun preparing for his evening jaunts at the local skatepark. It was three streets from their house and Jonghyun had been skating there for as long as he could remember.
Clacking past Taemin’s house - noisy in his cheap, plastic skates - he had noticed the way the new boy’s eyes would fix on him. One day he had stopped to talk and now it was kind of a ritual for him to strap up in Taemin’s lawn. Taemin even stocked up on sunblock for him.
“So no helmet?” the boy asked, looking around.
“No.” Jonghyun grinned.
“Your mom is not going to like that very much,” Taemin said skeptically.
“She’s out of town. Anyway I told you, today I’m taking it easy as peas.”
“You’re not taking your board?”
“Not today.”
Jonghyun ran a hand through his bleached hair. Below the bright top layer was a brunette undercut - his natural color. He liked the way the breeze felt on the back of his neck.
“My mom got me the new H.O.T tape.”
“Sweet.” Jonghyun whistled. “When are you letting me borrow it?”
“After I listen to it, of course.” Taemin gave him an impish smile. He had really opened up. Jonghyun shook his head and turned his attention back to his skates. He ran his fingers over the wheels. The afternoon wind really was working its way through his jersey; maybe because he had cut the sleeves off and in their place were long, gaping holes. He was often told he would be better off without a shirt altogether but it wasn’t like he was trying to show off. It was just the way he liked his clothes.
Taemin stared up at him as he jumped to his feet.
“I’m off,” he announced with a small salute. “See you around, kid.”
He sped down their shared driveway, barely catching Taemin’s reply.
“I’m not a kid.”
He laughed. The wheels on his skates were a little worn, which meant he felt each bump on the pavement in his teeth and he loved it. He lived for this feeling. He had never been good at sports, he didn’t have the stamina for martial arts and he was still waiting on his growth spurt (are you reading this, God?). His wheels were all he had and he loved each dust-ridden, rickety one.
He tried to keep it in check though. There was a week not too long ago he had sped through the intersection near the grocer’s and ignored the resounding screech that had sounded behind him. It had turned out to be his mother and wow, had he paid for that one.
He eased to a halt at the edge of the pavement and waited for the light at the crossing to turn green. It hummed as it ticked off the seconds till he could kick off again. His legs were vibrating with the effort of keeping still. He pulled his sunglasses out of his shorts’ pocket and slipped them on. They were a hand-me-down from his cousin in Seoul and, in his opinion, looked pretty damn cool. The glass was blue and mirrored everything around it. He was excited to show them off at the park, or the 180 as they called it. It had a straight-up obstacle course and two wooden ramps, one in the shape of an infinity symbol. The other one was a simple egg bowl. They were both flat ramps and although Jonghyun itched to try out a proper pipe, he couldn’t. The nearest one was a good 45 minutes away.
He rolled into the park with ease, dodging the little obstacles the others had set up. He was feeling a bit lazy today, maybe because it was the first day of summer vacation. There was something off though - there’s no way everyone was feeling that lazy. But for some reason, they were all standing stock still at the edge of the bowl. He skated up to them, drawing to a halt by grabbing Yiyun’s shoulder.
“What is going on?” he hissed. There was a boy - a tall boy, Jonghyun noted unhappily - sitting on the edge with a shiny new skateboard by his feet. Someone said something and he smiled into his palm.
Yiyun slung an arm over his shoulder to draw him closer. “That boy’s from Seoul. And you know who backs him?” She didn’t wait for Jonghyun to guess. “Kadence.”
Jonghyun’s eyes roved over the boy again. “No fucking way,” he announced. “He looks like a pansy.” The girl in front of him turned around and shot him a glare. “Pretty boy’s probably too scared to muss up his hair,” he added loudly. Maybe a little too loudly. The new boy looked up and straight at him. The crowd drifted to either side, like it was the Red Sea and Jonghyun’s loud mouth was fucking Moses.
“Sorry, man,” Jonghyun said half-heartedly. He wasn’t sorry at all. Everyone knew a sponsored skater was a sellout skater.
The other boy seemed to think for a second before he said, “It’s no problem.” His voice was low and measured; the exact opposite of Jonghyun’s. “I have to go anyway.”
“But you’ll be back, right?” Yiyun asked, ignoring Jonghyun’s indignant squawk.
“Yes,” the boy confirmed. He looked almost shy about it. “I have nowhere else to go.” His smile was toothy and cute, and Jonghyun could practically smell everyone around him falling in love with it. It made him want to gag. Skating was about adrenaline, not adorable boys.
Fuck, wait, he didn’t mean to call him adorable. He hated him. He was a corporate stooge, a buck-boarder, this- this-
I don’t even know his name, Jonghyun realized.
“Yah,” he whispered as the crowd around them scattered. “What’s Miss Korea’s name?”
Yiyun shot him a dirty look. “Choi Minho. He’s in the Kadence catalogue but you wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Nobody looks at the catalogues for the models, duh.” Jonghyun stretched up till the knot in his spine cracked.
“Not all of us are skate-sexual like you.”
“I am not skate-sexual, what the fuck.”
“Your actions suggest otherwise.”
“Whatever.” Jonghyun snapped. “Are we gonna skate or what?”
Yiyun laughed. “We are, we are. Sorry I got distracted by the pretty boy.” She raised her palms as a gesture of peace. “I’m only human.”
“Blind. You’re only blind,” Jonghyun corrected.
“Well, I must be because I can’t see you wearing any gear.”
He skated into the bowl. “Grab your board, it’s your lucky day,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m here to give you tips.”
Yiyun followed him with a loud thump of her wheelbase against the edge. She really needed the help. “And to what do I owe this great” - Jonghyun swelled - “annoyance?” and deflated.
“You owe it to your complete incompetence,” he said, reveling in the easy glide of his skates. “And I know how you can repay me too.”
“I’m not buying you the fluorescent green Vans, they are abhorrent.” Yiyun pretended to gag as she crossed him.
“I meant buy me a daegi ba and the shoes are great.” Jonghyun scowled. Yiyun was a cool girl but she had no fashion sense. Part of being a skater was looking like you were one. It earned you respect. Neatly pressed shorts and stiff shirts wouldn’t cut it either, he thought with a snort. That Choi Minho kid really had a lot coming.
“Earth to Jonghyun,” Yiyun yelled and he braked. He had been drifting aimlessly around the bottom of the bowl.
“Tell you want, Yunnie.” He turned to her. “If you can do a full Ollie over the southern rail, I’ll buy you ice cream. How does that sound?”
She smirked. “Sounds like you’re about to eat dust.”
“Buying ice cream for your sister?” the man behind the counter asked him pleasantly.
Jonghyun shrugged. He and Yiyun often got mistaken for siblings and it just wasn’t worth the effort to deny it. His real sister was back home, probably staring at a poster of H.O.T with love-struck eyes. He ripped the bar free of its bear-patterned wrapper, dropping it in the bin on his way out, and handed the unobstructed goods to his waiting friend.
“I thought you would fall,” he said miserably.
Yiyun bared her teeth and took a big bite. “You really know how to win a girl over,” she said cheerfully and clapped him on the shoulder. “And hey, wasn’t the entire purpose of today to help me improve?”
Jonghyun kicked a can of diet soda out of their way. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You look even crankier than usual. What’s up?”
The shorter way of saying it was, No one noticed my sunglasses, but it sounds painfully lame. The longer way was even worse - I’m feeling shitty because this new, handsome kid showed up and he obviously skates better than I do, even though I’ve been skate-off champion two years in a row.
He settled for, “I don’t like it when new kids skate the 180.”
Yiyun grinned around her popsicle. “You’re threatened.”
“I am not threatened, I’m just not,” Jonghyun scanned the area with a scowl, as if looking for inspiration, “I’m just not ready to let in some teenage geezer.” He jerked his head towards the pair of nice, retired old men crossing the road.
“He’s not a geezer.” Yiyun laughed.
“He’s not a skater either,” Jonghyun said defensively.
“God, you’re really a mess when Key isn’t around. Should I call him back?”
“Yes, but only because I’m bored and you’re terrible company.”
“Watch it, Kim.” Yiyun wagged the remnants of her icy treat. “I won’t hesitate to shove this down your pants and I doubt your blue balls need it.”
Jonghyun grinded to a halt. “My balls are none of your business.”
“Not yet.”
“Gross!”
“You need to grow up.” Yiyun tossed the wooden skeleton of her ice cream aside. “And then maybe shit like a new kid will stop bothering you. Why don’t you go jerk off to Olivia Hussey or something?”
Jonghyun stuck his fingers in his ears.
“Your legs look like a drunk man tried to chop down a tree.”
“Thanks, noona,” Jonghyun said, examining them proudly.
“It’s not a compliment.”
“It is to me!”
“True.” So Dam, his sister, sighed. Jonghyun shot her a curious look.
“Why are you in my room anyway?”
“We need to buy a gift for mom.”
Jonghyun put his Gameboy down. His back went ramrod straight. “I totally forgot.”
So Dam dropped down in his study chair. “Well then you’re lucky you have me around. Meet me at the mall after my shift tomorrow? We can pick something up.”
“Cool. What time?”
“Like around seven. And, Jonghyun,” she leaned forward tight-lipped, sounding eerily like their mother, “seven means seven o’clock. Seven doesn’t mean hit the 180 for three hours and show up looking half-dead o’clock.”
“Right. Got it.”
It was lonely at the top.
The first year Jonghyun had won the summer skate-off, everyone at the 180 had shrugged it off as a fluke. They had decided it didn’t mean much, even if it got him a shiny new skateboard and a 3 x 4 cm mention in the local daily. The second year they hadn’t been as kind. The touted champion had suffered an injury at the last second. So although Jonghyun won, they all wondered if he really had, including himself. It only made him more determined to win again. If he could prove himself, perhaps he could get the 180 back on his side. He did have Yiyun and a few others, but the crowds that thronged the new boy had left no room for doubt.
The people wanted a new king.
His mother always told him to shrug off his skate park politics but Jonghyun was a hot-headed boy.
“Minho’s not here today,” Su Ji, a girl from his sister’s school remarked sadly the next day.
Jonghyun waved off the cigarette she was offering. “We don’t need a city boy like him to cramp our style.”
“The only thing he’s going to be cramping is your neck when he skates circles around you,” Jae said with a smirk that dove right under Jonghyun’s skin.
He pushed off the wall. “You wanna say that to my face?”
The older boy pretended to think. “Do I wanna bend that far down? No.”
“Let me come up then.”
“Fuck, what did you do?” So Dam hissed, her eyes darting around. “You’re scaring the customers” - she lifted a part of the counter - “get back here, come on. Just sit on the floor, I’ll get some ice.”
Jonghyun’s face was throbbing and he couldn’t really remember the time in between. The next thing he knew So Dam was pressing something hard and cold to his rapidly swelling eye.
“Jonghyun,” she warned.
“I punched Jae,” he murmured. He wanted to look away or close her out - she looked livid - but his eye hurt like a mother and his eyelid just kind of drooped halfway helplessly.
She sighed. “And he punched you back?”
“And he’s like six feet.” Jonghyun grimaced.
He stared his sister with his good eye. She had actually laughed.
“Well, runt,” she ruffled his hair, “I hope that teaches you a lesson. How are you feeling?”
“Alive,” Jonghyun said, just to be a little shit.
“You’re not allowed to rent movies for two weeks.”
“Hey!”
“Be happy I’m not telling mom and don’t ever try a stupid line like that on me again.” So Dam narrowed her eyes. The concern shining in them, however, was rapidly eclipsing any threats. She got to her feet and dusted her jeans. “Keep the pack there. I’ll be done in another 15, we can go shop then.”
Jonghyun groaned. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” his sister said emphatically. “There’s no reason our mother should have to bear the consequences of your warmongering.”
His sister - his kind, angelic sister - kept him out late enough that he could make it to his bed without his mother shrieking the house down. By morning his eye was considerably less battered (he almost missed the bruise, to him it was a badge of honour; his, to be specific). To be safe, he had So Dam cook up some cock and bull story about him falling down the escalator at the mall.
His mother looked at him and sighed deeply as if to say, what am I going to do with you, before turning back to the eggs.
Jonghyun let out his breath in one long whoosh. He had been spared.
“No, sir, I do not want a self-rocking chair. I am asking you t-” his father was yelling into the phone on the other side of the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” he asked his sister.
“Dad’s midlife crisis.”
“Yes, precisely, I am not interested. No, I don’t want a regular one either!”
Jonghyun snickered into his spoonful of cereal.
“No, what I am asking,” his father said loudly, “is for you to stop spamming my mail box, I don’t want any of your crap!”
“Language,” their mother interjected. It sounded more like a reflex than a genuine admonishment and Jonghyun laughed again.
The cacophony at the breakfast table was almost loud enough for him to forget how, in 2 minutes and 37 seconds, Choi Minho had turned his world upside down.
Jonghyun walked into Mashi Diner that weekend with his leather jacket fluttering in the wind. It was entirely too hot and he was going to shrug it off once he was in their booth but it was good for making an entrance.
The place was buzzing. He could recognize most of the people around him but he ignored them in favor of Yiyun and Hae Sol. He slowed as he got closer, frowning as a third figure came into view. He examined the back of that head, brunette and 100% unrecognizable.
“Yo,” he said and all three turned around.
“About time,” said Yiyun.
“’Sup,” said Hae Sol.
“Hello,” said Choi Minho.
What in the fudge licking hell.
Jonghyun walked over to the other side of the booth, forcing his friends to scoot in and ignoring the look Yiyun shot him. He sat down as aggressively as he could.
“So,” he said loudly after three minutes of awkward silence.
“It’s nice to meet you again.” Minho gave him a small smile.
Jonghyun studied his features for something that would betray the sincerity in his voice. He found nothing. A clock ticked loudly above their heads.
“Your upper lip is weird,” he blurted out. “And you have a lisp.”
Minho’s eyes went wide.
“I want a milkshake!” Yiyun said shrilly. She shoved Hae Sol into Jonghyun, who shoved Jonghyun clean out of the booth. “Jonghyun, follow, now,” she hissed as she stalked past him.
“Fuck,” she exploded once they were out of earshot. “Can’t you socialize like a normal human being?”
Jonghyun focused on the small zit blooming on her left cheek. He knew he had just displayed some ratified asshole behavior but he had no idea why. What was it about Minho that made it impossible for him to function? He shook his head.
“Look, I’m sorry. Can we just go back? I’ll be on my best behavior.” He added a pout for effect and a smile lifted the corners of Yiyun’s lips.
“Alright, alright,” and they traipsed back to their booth.
Jae and Minho were caught up in conversation.
“And then,” Minho said with a warble of laughter, “she skated right off the edge and landed face first in the bowl.”
Jae slapped the table. “Shit! Did she break something?”
“Only her ego,” Minho said wickedly. So he did have a personality.
“May I?” Jonghyun coughed and Jae got up slowly. He was eyeing Jonghyun like a superhero eyes a ticking nuke. He resisted the urge to flip him the bird and slid in first. This time he was right opposite Minho.
“How was the milkshake?”
“What?” Jonghyun’s eyes darted to Yiyun.
“It was great, Minho, thank you for asking,” she said tightly.
Jonghyun let out a breath. It had been so long since he had talked to someone new about things other than skating, skateboards and different tricks to do when skating on your skateboard. He wouldn’t say he was a withdrawn person. He was just… intense and he knew it scared most people off. He was also usually slow in his words and his reactions. His insomnia was two years old now and his body was different when the sun was up and different when it went down. He was still feeling his way around that.
“I have some chocolate.” One of Minho’s hands dived into his bag and pulled out a Kit Kat.
“Nice!” Jae whooped.
Jonghyun watched in trepidation as Minho unwrapped it. He slid the silver foil off and ran a neat nail down each groove, driving it deeper, before snapping the chocolate and handing everyone a fourth. The last one went to Jonghyun.
“Here,” Minho said, nudging his hand with it.
“Thank you.”
“What are you doing here?” Minho looked at him in surprise.
“Skating,” Jonghyun said. “What are you doing here?”
Minho’s lips did a thing where they managed to talk and purse in amusement at the same time. “I’m here with my neighbour’s son, Yoogeun.” He pointed at a small, curly-haired figure a few feet from them. The boy turned around at the sound of his name.
Jonghyun whistled. “You sure he’s not your son?”
“Not that I know of,” Minho said, eyes twinkling. They were as bright and unblemished as that Yoogeun kid’s, maybe even more. Stupid Choi Minho with his stupidly small face and stupidly long legs.
Jonghyun blinked. “I should go.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, I’m supposed to be supervising,” he explained.
“I didn’t know you worked here!”
“I don’t,” Jonghyun said mutinously. “I’m filling in for a friend. She figured since I know how to skate, I’d be the perfect replacement or some shit. But let’s be real, no one comes here to skate except amateurs and little brats. No offence,” he added, jerking his head at Minho’s kid (he hadn’t really answered Jonghyun’s question).
“None taken.” Minho shrugged. “So I guess you don’t like kids?”
“I don’t like brats,” Jonghyun corrected. “Any kid that managed to drag his poor parents, or neigbour,” he sniggered, “to this screamfest is obviously a brat.”
“It is rather loud.” Minho looked around. “Shouldn’t you be helping these kids? Maybe they would scream less.”
“I know how to do my job.” Jonghyun scowled. “And this isn’t my job anyway. Plus I don’t like little boys.”
“So you like little girls?”
“I didn’t mean it like that, stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Cute.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said you’re cute,” Minho repeated coolly. “And a bit of a brat too, no wonder your friend thought you would fit in.”
“I am not a bra-”
“Anyway I should probably go help Yoogeun since you won’t. See you around,” Minho grinned, “hyung.”
Jonghyun liked skateboarding shirtless. He liked the way the sun felt on his back, toasting it up, the stares from the other kids rolling off it like waves off a beach. He felt alive in those few seconds he was up in the air, where nothing could reach him except the wind and the sunlight and maybe a stray butterfly.
Minho could make it to the air too, he found out, the day after next. He had tucked his unruly hair under a fake Lakers cap and his tall figure swayed lazily across their ragamuffin obstacle course. He just laughed when the more aggressive of their friends tossed things in his way, kick flipping over them with practiced ease.
He ground the back of his deck down the rail and gritted his teeth in time with it.
“What’s up?” Yiyun looked up at him curiously.
His descent was clumsy. “Nothing,” he insisted. She didn’t look convinced. She followed his gaze and clicked her tongue.
“Are you still going to give Minho shit about existing?”
“I am not giving him shit about existing. I told you,” Jonghyun thumbed the sweat off his upper lip, “I don’t like new kids.”
“You don’t like the fact that everybody likes him.”
“This is a skate park, not a popularity contest.”
“Oh, so you do know.”
The truth is Jonghyun is used to people having opinions about him. He’s used to them sniggering when he falls and clapping when he does a perfect run. He has few friends - even fewer in school. He’s not a bright student. He does have one other thing he likes to do. He likes to sing. But that thought hasn’t crossed his mind since he failed the choir audition.
He doesn’t know how to deal with people like Minho. People who call him cute and ruffle his hair. Sure, Yiyun does it and so does So Dam. But it doesn’t feel the same. It doesn’t make him want to take off down the nearest alleyway. It doesn’t reach his toes. It doesn’t make him feel like someone is watching him in ways he can’t control. Minho wasn’t watching him skate, he was watching him do everything but skate. He had noticed that Jonghyun hadn’t finished his milkshake. He had noticed him again at the skating rink. And now he was here, in the only place Jonghyun had left.
“You know what,” Jonghyun hefted his board into his armpit, “I’m out.”
“Hey,” Yuyin shouted after him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he muttered. “It’s okay.”
“You know, when I take a vacation, it means I need a break from things. That includes you.”
Jonghyun wrapped the cord around his wrist and pulled. “Yeah, well, get over it.”
“Did you hit your head again?”
“No.” He paused. “I wish I had. Then I might have some fucking clue what’s going on.”
“And you have no fucking clue right now?”
“Not one rat’s ass worth.”
“Elegant,” Kibum remarked. “What did he do?”
“Who?” Jonghyun protested.
“You know who! Come on.” Kibum made a noise of impatience. “I don’t have all day.”
“He didn’t do anything.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Yes. No.” Jonghyun rolled over onto his stomach. “I don’t know.”
“What do you want him to do?”
“Nothing! Somethi- anything! He’s too nice to me. He’s my rival. He’s supposed to trip me on my transfers.”
“He’s a pro.” Kibum hummed. “Maybe he doesn’t play dirty.”
“Kibum, everybody plays dirty. Plus he’s a city boy!”
“You are so jaded, what happened?”
“You,” Jonghyun said, just to be a brat.
“It’s not me, it’s him.”
“What about him?” Jonghyun screwed his eyes shut and imagined Minho’s foot kicking him in the face. He couldn’t let his guard down. The skate-off was less then a month away.
“Something obviously or you wouldn’t be so hung up on him!” Kibum sounded exasperated. “Have you two even talked or do you just eye-stab him from a distance?”
“We have.” Jonghyun shuddered. “He’s really nice.”
“And you’re a dick. Leave the poor boy alone. It’s a strange place, maybe he’s just trying to make friends.” There was the Kibum he knew.
“He doesn’t need to make friends out of my friends. Or do the things I like. Or be better at them.” Jonghyun crushed his face into his pillow. “It’s not fair.”
“Hyung,” Kibum said gently. “You realize Minho is free to do what he wants, right?”
“Of course.” Jonghyun’s voice sounds squashed, just like his left cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it or be party to it!”
“To his evil plan?” His friend sounded amused.
“The evilest.” He traced the crease in his bed sheet. “He’s trying to replace me.”
“He can’t,” Kibum said firmly. “He just wants to be your friend so stop freaking out.”
“He called me cute,” Jonghyun whispered and boy, did he regret it.
“What?!” Kibum screamed from the other end of South Korea.
“He was making fun of me!”
Even after he explained the situation, Kibum was not convinced.
“You’re an idiot,” he said, by way of explanation. “Minho is so nice to you and so fucking forward and you’re an idiot.”
“What does that mean?” Jonghyun groaned.
“Hyung,” Kibum said carefully, “I know you’re like, dead inside or whatever but I think Minho likes you. Or wants to anyway.”
There is a minute of complete silence and then:
“What?”
“It sounds like it,” Kibum murmured. “Yeah, the more I think about it, the more sense it makes.”
“My head hurts.” Jonghyun pressed into the pillow harder.
“Maybe you just need to get laid.”
He snorted. “Like you ever have.”
There was a second pause, one that was entirely too long.
“I have actually.”
Jonghyun sat up. “What?” he said. “When?”
“A few weeks go,” Kibum admitted. He sounded uncomfortable. “It’s not a big dea-”
“Of course it’s a big deal! What, so is this what we are now? We don’t tell each other shit anymore?”
“No, we do!” He was panicking. “It’s just this is such an awkward topic and I didn’t know how to start. It was so sudden and random, I didn’t want you think I was som-”
“So you’d rather let me think you’re my friend when you’re actually not?” Jonghyun breathed.
“Jjong, it’s not such a bi-”
“Thanks for the memo.”
He threw the receiver across the room.
“Jonghyun, come down already!” His sister hollered. Jonghyun pulled his pillow tighter around his head. He knew his father would send her up if he wasn’t at the table in five minutes. He rolled out of bed - barely upright - kind of just hung of it halfway and looked at everything with mistrust. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so betrayed. He just was.
The idea of someone… doing things to Kibum was disgusting. It was alien. He didn’t want to think about it but it was all he could think about now. It wasn’t jealousy. At least he had managed to figure that bit out. There was just an undeniable weirdness between them now - there was a part of Kibum’s life he wouldn’t know. A part where Kibum would laugh and cry and sing without him. His best friend of ten years. He hated it.
“What’s wrong with you?”
He paused in the middle of dragging the ramen up his tongue and down his throat.
“Nothing.” He swallowed emphatically.
“Did you hear about Taemin?”
Jonghyun looked up. “What about him?”
“He’s doing a solo recital next week. His mother invited us. You should come too. Show him some support.”
“Taemin is a wonderful boy,” his mother chimed in. “He must be so happy!”
Jonghyun held back a snort. Taemin hated ballet. He got bullied for it all the time but he felt like his parents had put too much into it for him to quit. It was quite the conundrum.
“The kid’s an artist,” his father boomed approvingly. “Pass me the rice please.” He scooped a generous clump on to his plate. “Unlike this one here. Do you think you’ll be able to skate through life? You could learn something from Taemin.”
The cold indifference under Jonghyun’s skin started to boil.
“Yeah?” He gritted his teeth. “Like?”
“Like commitment, hard work,” his father looked at him levelly. “How to actually be good at something.”
“Jjong is really good at skating,” So Damn defended and his mother nodded.
“Alright.” His father shrugged. “Let me know when you can skate far enough to pay the bills.”
“I will.” He scowled.
“Jonghyun! Don’t talk back to your fath-”
“Enough. I’ve had a long day.”
They finished their meal in silence.
He went to the 180 as soon as the sun was up.
It was empty except for two tall figures - Minho and Minkyung. Jonghyun was surprised to see the girl there. She was in his class and they talked often. He had never realized she was interested in boarding.
He rolled into the park noisily and they turned around.
“Hey.” He raised one arm.
“Jonghyun!” Minkyung smiled. “Long time no see.”
Minho looked between them curiously.
“Minnie here is teaching me how to skateboard,” she said with a touch to Minho’s arm. “I’m really bad but he’s super patient.”
“Oh,” was all Jonghyun could offer. “Good luck, I guess.”
“Thanks.”
He pushed off again, to the other end of the park. In the thick morning air their voices still carried to him but he ignored them in favor of warming up. His father’s words were dancing through his brain, Kibum’s betrayal still fresh in his blood. He had a lot to let out. He started off simply, just boarding lazily around the objects that littered the ground - glass bottles, uneven pebbles, a crowbar.
He did this till his legs were throbbing pleasantly. But his mind proved more stubborn. He decided something tougher would force it out of its misery and hopped on to a rail. He balanced on the level part - teetering back and forth. A voice reached him.
“You’re improving.”
“Only because of you!” More flirtatiously, “You should let me pay you back.”
“There’s no need, noona.”
“But I want to! How about dinner toni-”
There was a loud crash.
It took him a few seconds to realize the crash had been him.
“Jonghyun!” He screwed his eyes shut as pain shot through his head. He had banged it hard and it hurt like a mother. A pair of footsteps stopped next to him.
“Hyung,” Minho said. He sounded worried. “Are you okay? Can you talk?”
Jonghyun groaned, more out of frustration than pain. He didn’t need this right now. He didn’t need it.
“Noona, I think I should help Jonghyun hyung. Do you mind if we finish another time?”
“No, it’s fine.” Jonghyun thought it was commendable how rationed the disappointment in her voice was. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
A sharp pair of footsteps walked away from them.
“Hyung?” Minho tried again.
“I’m here,” Jonghyun snapped. “Give a man a second. I just plunged to my death.”
“Oh.” Minho crouched down. “Alright. I just wanted to make sure it’s not a concussion.”
Jonghyun paled. He had no idea about that stuff. “How can you tell?”
“Who invented the impossible?”
The way Minho phrased it had Jonghyun thinking for a second. “Mullen,” he said finally.
“We’re good.”
Jonghyun turned his head and saw Minho smiling. It knocked the wind out of him all over again.
“I fell.”
“You did.”
“I never fall,” he said, amazed.
“Maybe you were sleepy? It happens, it was probably a timing thing.”
“That’s a serious thing.” Jonghyun rolled onto his side. Pain flashed across his face again.
“Hyung.” Minho waddled closer. He looked like an overgrown duck. “Let me help you, come on. You can’t stay here forever.”
He let Minho ease him up. It took a lot of hands in uncomfortable places but he would be damned before he got up from that fall himself. Every inch of him was crushed by concrete and sore. With Minho’s help - yet again - he was able to hobble over to the nearest bench.
He made a small noise as Minho, back in duck position, pulled his leg straight and examined it. He pressed against a rapidly coloring patch of skin and tears sprung to Jonghyun’s eyes.
“That’s going to hurt,” Minho said.
Jonghyun nodded silently. He still couldn’t believe he had fallen. This had to be a sign of, well, something. Something terrible.
“Are you crying?” Minho leaned in. “Fuck, you are.”
Jonghyun panicked and pushed him. He barely managed to steady himself in time.
“Hyung,” he said in a concerned, velvety voice that made Jonghyun want to scream. Instead he just cried harder. “What happened?”
“I never fall,” Jonghyun sobbed. It was stupid and lame but he wasn’t willing to say any more. He just wanted Minho to stop being so nice because it made him want to do things he didn’t do. He was Kim Jonghyun, skateboarder extraordinaire, not Romeo ‘except he's gay’ Montague.
Minho stretched to full height and put a hand on his hair. “It’s alright,” he said. “You’re alright.”
Tears mixed with snot as they ran down Jonghyun’s ruddy face. He was red from the crying and the utter mortification of having cried in front of a dude he barely knew who, according to Jonghyun’s best friend, wanted to wife him.
He wiped his face on his sleeve - thank God he had one, it was a chilly morning - and waited for Minho to move his hand. A minute passed and it was still there. He peered up through his bangs, along the length of Minho’s handsome forearm to find the younger boy was looking away, giving him his privacy, and a rush of affection hit him like lightning hits an unsuspecting sky.
“I should go,” he said hoarsely.
The hand on his head slid down and cupped his ear. Minho kept it steady as he lowered himself to meet Jonghyun’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
Jonghyun’s heart jumped into his throat.
“Yes, yes, I’ll be fi- my board, where’s my board, is it alri-”
“It’s fine.” Minho frowned. “Are you really sure?” he asked.
Jonghyun nodded and Minho’s palm brushed the hot skin of his earlobe. Fuck, he was acting like such a virgin.
“I do this all the time,” he tried to explain. “I mean cry, not fall. I mean I don’t cry all the time… I cry sometimes. But when I do cry, I cry hard, you know?”
“Okay,” Minho said uncertainly and suddenly Jonghyun wished he did have a concussion. His communication skills certainly had one. “How about a milkshake?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Let’s go get one.” Minho smiled. “It’ll get you some energy. You fell pretty hard.”
Not hard enough to go on a date with you, Jonghyun thought wildly.
“You don’t want to have a milkshake with me,” he said nervously. “I’m a fallen man, remember?”
Minho burst out laughing. “Yes, I remember,” he said with one last giggle, “and yes, I still want to have a milkshake with you.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Jonghyun briefly considered sprinting down to the nearest payphone and calling Kibum for advice. But he didn’t think he could manage it without Minho noticing and there was no way Minho wouldn’t notice because he was ten freaking inches from Jonghyun’s hyperventilating mind, body and soul.
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