a different kind of crazy (2min)
TITLE A Different Kind of Crazy 32/32
SUMMARY Taemin's never been one to care about what's right or wrong. He doesn't think about things like what's accepted and what's not. He wants what he wants, but it's not always a walk in the park.
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS [SHINee] Taemin centric. Minho/Taemin, Jonghyun/Key. (f(x) & 2PM & etc cameos)
RATING/WARNING R. Mention and use of drugs. Mild violence. References to self-harm and mental disorders.
GENRE Drama/romance/coming-of-age
1 2 3 4 5 6 ♥ 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 minholude 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 mlude 2 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 mlude 3 interlude (Eunsook) 31
a different kind of crazy;
It begins to rain just as the dance students finish their cool downs; starting slow and light, a shimmery gray illuminated by the lowering sun, and strengthening into a thick, dark downpour by the time Taemin's out of the locker room and tagging Kibum, distracted by his phone, stealing the small umbrella tucked under his arm.
"Thanks, hyung!"
Kibum latches onto him before he makes it all the way out the door though, retrieving the umbrella and unfurling it. "We can share."
Taemin holds his hand out from underneath the faded pink awning of the studio. The rain pelts down on his hand almost painfully. "I don't think there's going to be a race tonight..."
"Race?" Kibum asks as Taemin pulls up his hood, preparing for the quick trek back home. "Like, cars racing? A drag race?"
"Yeah, I think so. That's what Krystal said."
Taemin doesn't understand why Kibum finds it so funny. He's little offended, and his mood is somewhat dampened by the realization that this is the kind of rain that ruins plans, the kind of rain that follows winter into spring. "Anyways," he enthuses, "Come over? I need help with math."
Kibum rolls his eyes, tilting the umbrella towards Taemin's apartment. "Lead the way, young grasshopper."
The entire time Kibum tutors Taemin, a nagging sensation tugs in the back of his mind. It's something Taemin has been purposely forgetting to think about, but tomorrow is Friday, and Friday is his appointment with SIDance. He's already told his mother, and she begrudgingly agreed to go with him, being very specific that he should expect nothing from her.
"So, you're really serious about dropping out of high school?" Kibum asks him, doodling on Taemin's homework.
"I do--" Taemin snatches a pillow in front of his face just in time, the pen Kibum sent flying towards him bouncing away and rolling onto the floor.
"What comes next?" Kibum exclaims, already knowing what he was going to say.
"I've got an appointment with my mom at SIDance tomorrow. I'll know then."
Before Kibum can respond, a crack of thunder rattles the complex and Taemin's phone starts ringing at approximately the same time, causing both of them to shriek in a very undignified manner.
"Fuck," Kibum breathes, "I was not expecting that."
"We never speak of this." Taemin says, feeling like an idiot and scrambling over his messy bed to grab his loud-ass cellphone. He stops to double-take the caller ID. It's Minho. Or maybe it's Krystal again.
He shushes Kibum's "Who is it?" and flips open his phone. "Hello?"
Taemin can hear the static shhhh of rain behind Minho's voice, which sounds far away. "Hold the tarp over it--it can't get wet!"
"Hello?" Taemin tries again, a little louder this time.
There's a swishing over the line, then Minho's voice is much closer. "Hey, sorry about that." he says. "It's like a fuckin' typhoon down here."
"Where're you at?"
"Well, that would be kind of hard to explain and is also the reason I'm calling you." Minho replies, over the sound of a familiar voice asking for something. "It's in the freezer, where it always is." Minho answers the question before continuing his conversation with Taemin, "Well, I think it would be kind of hard to make that date work tonight."
"Well, at least I can't blame you this time." Taemin jokes darkly. Kibum squints his eyes at him, having deduced the caller's identity minutes ago.
Minho's sharp laugh is pleasing to his ears. "Tomorrow the--" the line crackles from thunder from his line.
"Where are you?" Taemin presses, because it really does sound like a typhoon.
"I'm under the freeway." Minho says, "We've got a deal going down despite the weather."
"Under a bridge?" Taemin snorts.
"It's more than that." Taemin can hear the grin in Minho's voice. "You'll see tomorrow."
"You better not be procrastinating."
"The fates are against us." Minho jokes back.
The weather is, at least, Taemin muses grimly. When he hangs up, Kibum looks up from his doodle-turned-masterpiece he's made of Taemin's homework.
"I have to turn that in you know."
"So?" Kibum holds it up for him to see. "It's still eligible."
And so Taemin resigns himself to the shape his evening seems keen to take. His sleep comes uneasy, and he tosses and turns in bed, feeling like he hadn't slept at all when his mom swoops into his room to wake him up.
She's dressed professionally, pencil skirt, heels, and patterned blouse. Apparently, she'd even gotten her nails done for the ordeal. And she'd told Taemin not to expect anything--well, he certainly hadn't been expecting this.
She drops a bag on his bed. "Jeans are fine, just make sure you wear this shirt. This is an expensive institution we're going to. I don't want you looking like you're not serious about this. Because if you're serious about this, you have to look serious about it."
She swoops back out of his room before Taemin can emerge from his groggy surprise and form a response, so he folds his legs together and digs the crisp, brand new button-up shirt from the brand bag. It's 11AM, he had slept through his alarm clock, and his mother had obviously been revving herself up for a couple hours.
Best not to argue, she had a point, after all.
The academy is nearly forty minutes away by train, and the entire time Taemin has to resist the urge to itch his hair, which his mother had slicked back with gel shortly before shoving him out the front door. She seemed more excited than he was about the whole ordeal.
The initial interview runs very smoothly. Taemin's not surprised to see his mother had been right about the state of dress present in the academy, and was glad of it. Many of the students were loitering in the halls in cliques, either sending him curious glances or ignoring him completely.
It's a decent sized school, several floors high, with a large auditorium basement where VIP performances are held. They are introduced to the teachers Taemin would be learning under, and finally the manager, whom his mother fires all the questions she'd been saving in her arsonal the entire tour.
Taemin sits aside in the office as the adults converse, fading in and out while he's talked about as if he isn't there. Adults do that a lot, he's thinking, when his mother sits back with a defeated sound. He tunes back in,
"He's still in high school, I don't want him to drop out. Is there any way he can split his weeks between the two?"
"We have a very flexible scheduling system, I'm sure we can work something out. However, we don't recommend skipping days. We have evening classes for students who have another obligation during the day, high school students included. If Taemin," here, the manager looks directly at him, "is as serious as his talent and passion seem to elude, then I'm sure he'll fit right into that schedule."
"So he wouldn't have to drop out of school?" Taemin's mother wants to make very sure.
The manager smiles, opening her file cabinet and rifling through it, pulling out a folder and handing it to her. "Absolutely not. We've only recently introduced a new program for enrolled high school students. Like I said, we're very flexible." She turns her smile, a triumphant one--she knows she's won--in his direction. "I believe your classmate, Sullie, is also going to be joining us this summer."
"The girl with those purple heels?" Taemin's mother pipes up, and Taemin sinks further into his seat, hoping to disappear. Luckily, the manager doesn't ask.
Everything runs smoothly from there, although Taemin's mother doesn't miss any chances to show her secondthoughts regarding the outcome. "I've called your aunt." She says as they descend the stairs from the SIDance entrance. "She has an open apartment this side of town. During the summer, you can stay there and focus completely on your dancing."
Taemin's not sure what to say about that, or the forethought that must have gone into it, or the fact that his mother had probably resigned herself to accepting Taemin's life choices faster than he had imagined she would--he hadn't imagined she would at all.
"I don't know what to say."
"Thank you would suffice." His mother responds, "And maybe, an I love you or two or three--"
"Thanks, mom." Taemin grins at her, "And I love you. Times a million."
It's rare for the two of them to express their feelings, to connect emotionally as mother and son. They might live together, but it's as if they live completely different lives. It's nice when she grabs him and pulls him to her, side-hugging him in an embarrassingly motherly way.
"I know you do, Taemin-ah. And you know I will always love you no matter what. I might not seem like I do, but that's because I'm a weak person. You're not. I raised you to be strong, and you became stronger than I could have imagined."
Taemin is extremely embarrassed. Happy, but embarrassed. She's still dragging him along towards the train station. "All I ask is that you finish high school. Preferably with good grades."
"I know." Taemin reverts to whining, but he's still smiling.
It's a pleasant ride home, and it's nearing six. Minho should be coming to pick him up soon, and his mother is busy getting ready for work.
Taemin's almost afraid to think this might be the best day ever. He ruffles his gelled hair into a more unkempt style and changes into a comfortable sweatshirt, slipping his phone and wallet into his pockets before shouting to his mother in her bedroom, "I'm going out to celebrate with some friends!"
"Don't stay out too late! You hear me!" His mother threatens back.
Taemin decides not to reply to that, slipping out the door and closing it quietly behind him.
Minho's already waiting for him at the corner of the streets that meet the apartment complex, a second helmet balanced on his lap. He tosses it to Taemin when he approaches.
"Well aren't you a bag full of sunflowers today."
"Really?" Taemin can't help but reply, "That is how you see me? Sunflowers and bags?"
"Well, that makes me want sunflower seeds, actually." Minho replies, voice quieting as if guilty.
"I can't even with you sometimes." Taemin says, but it's all in raillery. He's in too good a mood to give a fuck, and for once, it feels really nice.
The light is dimming as the sun begins to fade. "So, where exactly are we going? Krystal already spoiled the drag race."
"I figured she did." Minho replies, "But you're not interested in that, are you?"
"As long as you don't kill me."
"Fuck that. I'm not doing any racing. I don't drive, I don't have my license."
"That makes me really comfortable." Taemin wiggles on the seat behind Minho, who quirks a brow at him.
"And that makes me really uncomfortable."
Taemin whacks his helmeted head onto Minho's shoulder. "Face forward. The light's green." he says, having none of Minho's flirtation on a vehicle he is not licensed or trained to drive.
"Hold tight," Minho grins, "It's going to be a bit of a drive."
But it's a peaceful drive. Minho winds through the city, bypassing gridlocks by entirely illegal means, swerving around trashcans and through alleyways, and all the while, the indie radio station's smooth tunes subdue the sound of the wind rushing by through the fancy in-helmet radio.
They hit the freeway in record time, and drive top speed the thirty minutes it takes for the sun to sink completely under the horizon. Minho pulls off at a bridge spanning a long-dried creek, six lanes wide, and they walk with the vespa to the edge, where the rafters break off and the ground dips down into a lulling hill.
Beneath the bridge are several flashy, foreign cars and people loitering about them. Flood lights had been set up at each corner of the bridge, foldeable tables and chairs, stereo systems competing with the highway sounds and each other and the voices of the decent number of people present.
There are at least eight cars, and all of them are slick, shiny, and expensive. Taemin recognizes Taecyeon bent over the engine of one, an ocean blue Mustang, cursing at the vehicle's innards profusely, up to his elbows in grease.
Krystal's propped on a beach chair, sunglasses in place despite the stars peaking out in the sky. She smiles at the two of them, waving her beer in greeting. "As soon as we can see the moon, the race will start."
Taemin scans the sky, "It's a full moon, right?"
"Yep." chimes Krystal. "It was Eunsook's idea, actually."
Minho rolls his eyes at the awkward moment Krystal had just created. Taemin asks, "She still hasn't contacted you?"
"She's not going to." Krystal replies, pulling her feet up onto the chair. "But, the show goes on, as they say."
"It's got to." Taecyeon intercedes, retreating from under the hood and towards the driver's seat to start the car. It purrs when he ignites the ignition, and he hoots triumphantly. "I mean, she's gonna come back eventually. Eunsook doesn't run away from responsibility."
"Just because she hasn't doesn't mean she wouldn't." Minho says, crossing his arms and leaning against one of the cement columns holding up the bridge. "All the shit rains down on us, though. Did she think that through?"
"You can handle it, you're a big boy." Krystal pipes in Eunsook's defense.
"I have an idea." Taemin speaks up, "How about a toast to dedicate this race to Eunsook? For happiness and a good life and all that."
Krystal pulls her sunglasses down and gives him a sour look. "What about my happiness?"
"We'll do that." Minho says, ignoring Krystal and pushing off the column, wandering into the crowds towards several fridges all grouped together in the center of the open space, powered by a large generator.
"You know what would make me happy?" Krystal says, sliding her sunglasses back into place.
"No one cares, Krystal." Taecyeon intercedes once more.
"I hope you crash tonight." Krystal shoots back at him.
"And that's why no one cares." Taecyeon makes to pull up another chair, but Hyoyeon grabs it and twists it around before he can, sitting backwards and leaning her arms on the backrest. Minho is behind her, carrying a six pack of beer.
"One drink won't be enough for Eunsook!" Hyoyeon notes, popping the top off her beer and tossing the bottle-opener to Taecyeon, who had resigned himself to the ground.
"We finish our beers after the cheer." Krystal finishes her old beer and catches the one Minho tosses her.
"Can you chug a beer?" Minho asks Taemin, handing him a bottle.
"For Eunsook, I can do anything." Taemin replies bravely.
"That's the spirit!" Hyoyeon choruses.
"All right, all right!" Krystal gets to her feet, taking command of the situation fluidly, as if it was her right the entire time. "This is not your ordinary toast, ladies and gents. This is a dedication drink." She holds up her beer as if it were the holy grail, playing into the dramatics. "Tonight, on the first full moon of the new year, we dedicate this drag race and this round of beer to Lee Eunsook, that wherever she may be, she will find happiness there." Krystal feels the need to add, "Without me. Somehow."
Hyoyeon chuckles. "Amen to that!" and the five of them clack their bottles together, leaving the sixth open, symbolically, for Eunsook. "Now chug!"
Taemin survives through the horrible taste, truly wishing Eunsook the best of luck on whatever journey she has taken herself on.
Krystal finishes first, releasing a loud, unladylike burp and wiping her mouth before going, "She will be sorely missed, fondly remembered!"
"Don't make it sound like a fucking funeral." Minho bemoans.
"Shut up." Krystal chucks her beer bottle and misses the trashcan. It doesn't break, but bounces onto the soft-packed ground.
"Look! There's the moon!" Hyoyeon's nail, chipped with black varnish, points towards the satellite hanging amongst the trees. A number of other people had noticed it as well, and car engines begin to rev. Tables are shuffled out of the way to allow the participants to line up for the race.
"Come on," Minho gets to his feet, grabbing Taemin by the arm and pulling him up as well. "I've still got something I want to show you."
Krystal's daft eyes look past them as Minho guides Taemin through the dust and exhaust fumes kicked up by the cars as they amble towards the start line. He tries to follow her gaze, back up the hill, but all he sees is a tall billboard shadowed by tall trees. The lights used to illuminate it's advertisement were long dead.
Minho doesn't let go of Taemin's hand the entire steep walk into the small woods alongside the highway, leading him to the base of the billboard, where an old ladder leans against it, connecting to the platform beneath the sign.
It's a bit terrifying to climb; even though Minho holds the ladder for Taemin, it still wobbles as his ascends. But the view from atop the billboard is breathtaking. It hadn't seemed that high, but the cars are small and quiet, and the moon is large and round and out in the open from his vantage point.
It's a still night, almost windless. The vehicles on the highway a couple hundred feet away zoom past, oblivious to Taemin and Minho, oblivious to the drag race beneath the bridge.
Minho wrangles himself up the ladder like its second nature to him, and comes to stand beside Taemin, whose mouth had dropped open without his knowledge.
"Breathtaking, right?" Minho grins. "You can actually see the stars out here."
"It's... awesome." Taemin can't articulate how he feels right now.
"I used to come here a lot when I was younger. Whenever my dad pissed me off, I'd ride my bike all the way out here--it took like two hours--and then I'd climb up here and stare at the stars until all my problems seemed small in comparison to the problems of the universe."
Taemin can't help himself, he snickers. "I never took you for the philosophical type."
"You learn something new every day." Minho replies. "I'm a Sagittarius, it's in my blood."
"And superstitious?"
Minho grabs Taemin by his sides, faking him out with a light push and a tight grip pulling him back. Taemin grabs hold of him, unleashing a string of curses.
"Shit, don't fucking do that."
"Sit down. I won't let you fall." Minho is unapologetic, and Taemin sinks against the billboard until his butt hits the grated platform and pretzels his legs. Minho does the same, reaching into his pocket and extracting a slightly crumpled cigarette box. He taps out a pristine rolled joint, nearly identical in size to an actual cigarette, and lights it with his zippo.
The faint sound of a whistle draws their attentions down to the race, which had just begun. Two cars shoot forward, one slides and loses traction, falling into second place within seconds. It's over in under a minute, and loud, belligerently cheering voices carry up with the slight breeze rustling through the tree tops.
Minho hands the spliff to Taemin. "What do you think?" he asks.
"About what? And you call me vague." Taemin blows smoke into his face. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you better think twice. I've got standards you know, the kind that involve you having shit to explain."
Minho smiles, arms propped on the short metal bar caging the platform and supporting the broken beam-lights. His eyes are distant, and his legs dangle precariously over the edge, hooked at the knees. "I love you for being so forward about what you want,"--here, Taemin chokes on his hit, coughing out surprised plumes of smoke as Minho continues, emitting a little laugh--"It forces me to do the same, or risk falling behind. If I lose to you, I lose you. I don't want to lose you. But then I also have to tell you about the blood and the violence and the drugs and the rest of the package deal."
"Well," Taemin opens teary eyes, recovering from the painful exhale and the shock of Minho's offhanded confession. "Your sort of just did."
Minho looks surprised himself. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." Then his expression morphs into a grimace. "But let's be honest, how long do you see this relationship lasting? You're a ballerina of all things, and I'm kkanggpae. For that reason alone, I've kept my distance. Or at least I've tried to. This is the first time I've ever felt this way."
Taemin closes his eyes, let's out a slow breath. "So what if we're not forever? Forever's not what I'm looking forwards to tomorrow."
"This isn't a temporary thing, Taemin. I'm not going to change my life--or who it's made me. I can't--my life is who I am, and I don't know how to be anyone else. If you can accept that--that I am a criminal working for a large organized crime family, that at any time I or you may be put in imminent danger, and that sometimes, in order to protect you, I just can't tell you the whole truth."
"I'm not asking you to change, I'm asking you to love me." Taemin feels oddly mitigated in the moment, and everything is surreal. "Is there anything else you need to tell me? That you have several mistresses and launder cocaine across the border?"
Minho's reaction to Taemin's serious expression is not what he had expected. Instead of cynicism and abrasive shutdowns, Minho falls backwards onto the platform because he's laughing so hard. "Shit," he says between breaths. "I love you Taemin, you win."
Taemin barely makes his words out from his vivacious laughter. "Are you kidding me--yah, what did you say?!"
"Nothing." Minho's still laughing, but he's catching his breath and wiping at his eyes.
"Say it again," Taemin demands, the joint long forgotten and resting on the grating between them. "and mean it."
"Nothing?" Minho grins at him. "I haven't laughed like that in years. Years, Taemin."
"Not that," Taemin pushes him and they get into a half-hearted a tug-of-war, grabbing at each other's arms like schoolgirls having a catfight. "Are you really going to be like this? Right now? In this moment we're having?"
Minho lets go of Taemin then, and gets onto one knee facing him. "Is this better?" he says, amusement still lighting his eyes. "Taemin, I'm in love with you."
"It's too late. You ruined the moment." Taemin's heart is all fluttery and ridiculous though, and probably in danger of over-elation.
"That was short-lived." Minho plays along, tucking the joint behind his ear and throwing one foot onto the ladder. "See you around then?"
Taemin raises a brow at him, suggestively coyer than he usually is. "Didn't I tell you I had standards?
"You're right," Taemin goes on, looking up at the sky. "It feels like life really isn't that bad up here. Like all my problems can be solved, if I just look at them in a different perspective."
Minho's eyes never leave his as he leans back on his elbows. He cants over and kisses Taemin without another word, neck craned to make the proper connection, luring him into leaning forwards and into his reach. Minho pulls Taeming over his lap, leaning against the billboard and tilting his chin up, pulling Taemin's upper lip with his teeth and enjoying the sound he makes, the way his hips sink further into Minho's lap; the way he retaliates, raking his teeth against his bottom lip, pushing harder against him.
The drag race is forgotten about completely, and so are the stars, the moon, the trees, the world. If Taemin could summarize heaven in one moment, this would definitely be it.
"What kind of crazy does it take for two completely different people like us to fall for each other?" Taemin wonders aloud, breathless and in a state of complete placidity.
"You said it yourself," Minho's voice is soft and cheery and confident, and he smiles into the small of Taemin's neck. "A different kind."
previous
note; Thank cosipotente for coercing me into posting it, I've been putting it off cuz I suck. Also, a huge THANK YOU to everyone who supported this fic, waited patiently for my slow updates, and enjoyed the story of course! o 3 o;;
This will probably be my last fanfic for awhile. If you're still interested in following my speculative writing, I've got a tumblr for that now: fictomancy and ofc, planetwalkers. I'm sort of torn between posting original fic on the internet... anybody have tips for that? In general, but mostly so that my ideas won't be stolen. ;w;
Also, I'm going to unlock ADKC but I will lock it again if I find it shared without my consent or plagiarized. READ ON, ROCK ON. \m/
SUMMARY Taemin's never been one to care about what's right or wrong. He doesn't think about things like what's accepted and what's not. He wants what he wants, but it's not always a walk in the park.
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS [SHINee] Taemin centric. Minho/Taemin, Jonghyun/Key. (f(x) & 2PM & etc cameos)
RATING/WARNING R. Mention and use of drugs. Mild violence. References to self-harm and mental disorders.
GENRE Drama/romance/coming-of-age
1 2 3 4 5 6 ♥ 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 minholude 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 mlude 2 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 mlude 3 interlude (Eunsook) 31
a different kind of crazy;
It begins to rain just as the dance students finish their cool downs; starting slow and light, a shimmery gray illuminated by the lowering sun, and strengthening into a thick, dark downpour by the time Taemin's out of the locker room and tagging Kibum, distracted by his phone, stealing the small umbrella tucked under his arm.
"Thanks, hyung!"
Kibum latches onto him before he makes it all the way out the door though, retrieving the umbrella and unfurling it. "We can share."
Taemin holds his hand out from underneath the faded pink awning of the studio. The rain pelts down on his hand almost painfully. "I don't think there's going to be a race tonight..."
"Race?" Kibum asks as Taemin pulls up his hood, preparing for the quick trek back home. "Like, cars racing? A drag race?"
"Yeah, I think so. That's what Krystal said."
Taemin doesn't understand why Kibum finds it so funny. He's little offended, and his mood is somewhat dampened by the realization that this is the kind of rain that ruins plans, the kind of rain that follows winter into spring. "Anyways," he enthuses, "Come over? I need help with math."
Kibum rolls his eyes, tilting the umbrella towards Taemin's apartment. "Lead the way, young grasshopper."
The entire time Kibum tutors Taemin, a nagging sensation tugs in the back of his mind. It's something Taemin has been purposely forgetting to think about, but tomorrow is Friday, and Friday is his appointment with SIDance. He's already told his mother, and she begrudgingly agreed to go with him, being very specific that he should expect nothing from her.
"So, you're really serious about dropping out of high school?" Kibum asks him, doodling on Taemin's homework.
"I do--" Taemin snatches a pillow in front of his face just in time, the pen Kibum sent flying towards him bouncing away and rolling onto the floor.
"What comes next?" Kibum exclaims, already knowing what he was going to say.
"I've got an appointment with my mom at SIDance tomorrow. I'll know then."
Before Kibum can respond, a crack of thunder rattles the complex and Taemin's phone starts ringing at approximately the same time, causing both of them to shriek in a very undignified manner.
"Fuck," Kibum breathes, "I was not expecting that."
"We never speak of this." Taemin says, feeling like an idiot and scrambling over his messy bed to grab his loud-ass cellphone. He stops to double-take the caller ID. It's Minho. Or maybe it's Krystal again.
He shushes Kibum's "Who is it?" and flips open his phone. "Hello?"
Taemin can hear the static shhhh of rain behind Minho's voice, which sounds far away. "Hold the tarp over it--it can't get wet!"
"Hello?" Taemin tries again, a little louder this time.
There's a swishing over the line, then Minho's voice is much closer. "Hey, sorry about that." he says. "It's like a fuckin' typhoon down here."
"Where're you at?"
"Well, that would be kind of hard to explain and is also the reason I'm calling you." Minho replies, over the sound of a familiar voice asking for something. "It's in the freezer, where it always is." Minho answers the question before continuing his conversation with Taemin, "Well, I think it would be kind of hard to make that date work tonight."
"Well, at least I can't blame you this time." Taemin jokes darkly. Kibum squints his eyes at him, having deduced the caller's identity minutes ago.
Minho's sharp laugh is pleasing to his ears. "Tomorrow the--" the line crackles from thunder from his line.
"Where are you?" Taemin presses, because it really does sound like a typhoon.
"I'm under the freeway." Minho says, "We've got a deal going down despite the weather."
"Under a bridge?" Taemin snorts.
"It's more than that." Taemin can hear the grin in Minho's voice. "You'll see tomorrow."
"You better not be procrastinating."
"The fates are against us." Minho jokes back.
The weather is, at least, Taemin muses grimly. When he hangs up, Kibum looks up from his doodle-turned-masterpiece he's made of Taemin's homework.
"I have to turn that in you know."
"So?" Kibum holds it up for him to see. "It's still eligible."
And so Taemin resigns himself to the shape his evening seems keen to take. His sleep comes uneasy, and he tosses and turns in bed, feeling like he hadn't slept at all when his mom swoops into his room to wake him up.
She's dressed professionally, pencil skirt, heels, and patterned blouse. Apparently, she'd even gotten her nails done for the ordeal. And she'd told Taemin not to expect anything--well, he certainly hadn't been expecting this.
She drops a bag on his bed. "Jeans are fine, just make sure you wear this shirt. This is an expensive institution we're going to. I don't want you looking like you're not serious about this. Because if you're serious about this, you have to look serious about it."
She swoops back out of his room before Taemin can emerge from his groggy surprise and form a response, so he folds his legs together and digs the crisp, brand new button-up shirt from the brand bag. It's 11AM, he had slept through his alarm clock, and his mother had obviously been revving herself up for a couple hours.
Best not to argue, she had a point, after all.
The academy is nearly forty minutes away by train, and the entire time Taemin has to resist the urge to itch his hair, which his mother had slicked back with gel shortly before shoving him out the front door. She seemed more excited than he was about the whole ordeal.
The initial interview runs very smoothly. Taemin's not surprised to see his mother had been right about the state of dress present in the academy, and was glad of it. Many of the students were loitering in the halls in cliques, either sending him curious glances or ignoring him completely.
It's a decent sized school, several floors high, with a large auditorium basement where VIP performances are held. They are introduced to the teachers Taemin would be learning under, and finally the manager, whom his mother fires all the questions she'd been saving in her arsonal the entire tour.
Taemin sits aside in the office as the adults converse, fading in and out while he's talked about as if he isn't there. Adults do that a lot, he's thinking, when his mother sits back with a defeated sound. He tunes back in,
"He's still in high school, I don't want him to drop out. Is there any way he can split his weeks between the two?"
"We have a very flexible scheduling system, I'm sure we can work something out. However, we don't recommend skipping days. We have evening classes for students who have another obligation during the day, high school students included. If Taemin," here, the manager looks directly at him, "is as serious as his talent and passion seem to elude, then I'm sure he'll fit right into that schedule."
"So he wouldn't have to drop out of school?" Taemin's mother wants to make very sure.
The manager smiles, opening her file cabinet and rifling through it, pulling out a folder and handing it to her. "Absolutely not. We've only recently introduced a new program for enrolled high school students. Like I said, we're very flexible." She turns her smile, a triumphant one--she knows she's won--in his direction. "I believe your classmate, Sullie, is also going to be joining us this summer."
"The girl with those purple heels?" Taemin's mother pipes up, and Taemin sinks further into his seat, hoping to disappear. Luckily, the manager doesn't ask.
Everything runs smoothly from there, although Taemin's mother doesn't miss any chances to show her secondthoughts regarding the outcome. "I've called your aunt." She says as they descend the stairs from the SIDance entrance. "She has an open apartment this side of town. During the summer, you can stay there and focus completely on your dancing."
Taemin's not sure what to say about that, or the forethought that must have gone into it, or the fact that his mother had probably resigned herself to accepting Taemin's life choices faster than he had imagined she would--he hadn't imagined she would at all.
"I don't know what to say."
"Thank you would suffice." His mother responds, "And maybe, an I love you or two or three--"
"Thanks, mom." Taemin grins at her, "And I love you. Times a million."
It's rare for the two of them to express their feelings, to connect emotionally as mother and son. They might live together, but it's as if they live completely different lives. It's nice when she grabs him and pulls him to her, side-hugging him in an embarrassingly motherly way.
"I know you do, Taemin-ah. And you know I will always love you no matter what. I might not seem like I do, but that's because I'm a weak person. You're not. I raised you to be strong, and you became stronger than I could have imagined."
Taemin is extremely embarrassed. Happy, but embarrassed. She's still dragging him along towards the train station. "All I ask is that you finish high school. Preferably with good grades."
"I know." Taemin reverts to whining, but he's still smiling.
It's a pleasant ride home, and it's nearing six. Minho should be coming to pick him up soon, and his mother is busy getting ready for work.
Taemin's almost afraid to think this might be the best day ever. He ruffles his gelled hair into a more unkempt style and changes into a comfortable sweatshirt, slipping his phone and wallet into his pockets before shouting to his mother in her bedroom, "I'm going out to celebrate with some friends!"
"Don't stay out too late! You hear me!" His mother threatens back.
Taemin decides not to reply to that, slipping out the door and closing it quietly behind him.
Minho's already waiting for him at the corner of the streets that meet the apartment complex, a second helmet balanced on his lap. He tosses it to Taemin when he approaches.
"Well aren't you a bag full of sunflowers today."
"Really?" Taemin can't help but reply, "That is how you see me? Sunflowers and bags?"
"Well, that makes me want sunflower seeds, actually." Minho replies, voice quieting as if guilty.
"I can't even with you sometimes." Taemin says, but it's all in raillery. He's in too good a mood to give a fuck, and for once, it feels really nice.
The light is dimming as the sun begins to fade. "So, where exactly are we going? Krystal already spoiled the drag race."
"I figured she did." Minho replies, "But you're not interested in that, are you?"
"As long as you don't kill me."
"Fuck that. I'm not doing any racing. I don't drive, I don't have my license."
"That makes me really comfortable." Taemin wiggles on the seat behind Minho, who quirks a brow at him.
"And that makes me really uncomfortable."
Taemin whacks his helmeted head onto Minho's shoulder. "Face forward. The light's green." he says, having none of Minho's flirtation on a vehicle he is not licensed or trained to drive.
"Hold tight," Minho grins, "It's going to be a bit of a drive."
But it's a peaceful drive. Minho winds through the city, bypassing gridlocks by entirely illegal means, swerving around trashcans and through alleyways, and all the while, the indie radio station's smooth tunes subdue the sound of the wind rushing by through the fancy in-helmet radio.
They hit the freeway in record time, and drive top speed the thirty minutes it takes for the sun to sink completely under the horizon. Minho pulls off at a bridge spanning a long-dried creek, six lanes wide, and they walk with the vespa to the edge, where the rafters break off and the ground dips down into a lulling hill.
Beneath the bridge are several flashy, foreign cars and people loitering about them. Flood lights had been set up at each corner of the bridge, foldeable tables and chairs, stereo systems competing with the highway sounds and each other and the voices of the decent number of people present.
There are at least eight cars, and all of them are slick, shiny, and expensive. Taemin recognizes Taecyeon bent over the engine of one, an ocean blue Mustang, cursing at the vehicle's innards profusely, up to his elbows in grease.
Krystal's propped on a beach chair, sunglasses in place despite the stars peaking out in the sky. She smiles at the two of them, waving her beer in greeting. "As soon as we can see the moon, the race will start."
Taemin scans the sky, "It's a full moon, right?"
"Yep." chimes Krystal. "It was Eunsook's idea, actually."
Minho rolls his eyes at the awkward moment Krystal had just created. Taemin asks, "She still hasn't contacted you?"
"She's not going to." Krystal replies, pulling her feet up onto the chair. "But, the show goes on, as they say."
"It's got to." Taecyeon intercedes, retreating from under the hood and towards the driver's seat to start the car. It purrs when he ignites the ignition, and he hoots triumphantly. "I mean, she's gonna come back eventually. Eunsook doesn't run away from responsibility."
"Just because she hasn't doesn't mean she wouldn't." Minho says, crossing his arms and leaning against one of the cement columns holding up the bridge. "All the shit rains down on us, though. Did she think that through?"
"You can handle it, you're a big boy." Krystal pipes in Eunsook's defense.
"I have an idea." Taemin speaks up, "How about a toast to dedicate this race to Eunsook? For happiness and a good life and all that."
Krystal pulls her sunglasses down and gives him a sour look. "What about my happiness?"
"We'll do that." Minho says, ignoring Krystal and pushing off the column, wandering into the crowds towards several fridges all grouped together in the center of the open space, powered by a large generator.
"You know what would make me happy?" Krystal says, sliding her sunglasses back into place.
"No one cares, Krystal." Taecyeon intercedes once more.
"I hope you crash tonight." Krystal shoots back at him.
"And that's why no one cares." Taecyeon makes to pull up another chair, but Hyoyeon grabs it and twists it around before he can, sitting backwards and leaning her arms on the backrest. Minho is behind her, carrying a six pack of beer.
"One drink won't be enough for Eunsook!" Hyoyeon notes, popping the top off her beer and tossing the bottle-opener to Taecyeon, who had resigned himself to the ground.
"We finish our beers after the cheer." Krystal finishes her old beer and catches the one Minho tosses her.
"Can you chug a beer?" Minho asks Taemin, handing him a bottle.
"For Eunsook, I can do anything." Taemin replies bravely.
"That's the spirit!" Hyoyeon choruses.
"All right, all right!" Krystal gets to her feet, taking command of the situation fluidly, as if it was her right the entire time. "This is not your ordinary toast, ladies and gents. This is a dedication drink." She holds up her beer as if it were the holy grail, playing into the dramatics. "Tonight, on the first full moon of the new year, we dedicate this drag race and this round of beer to Lee Eunsook, that wherever she may be, she will find happiness there." Krystal feels the need to add, "Without me. Somehow."
Hyoyeon chuckles. "Amen to that!" and the five of them clack their bottles together, leaving the sixth open, symbolically, for Eunsook. "Now chug!"
Taemin survives through the horrible taste, truly wishing Eunsook the best of luck on whatever journey she has taken herself on.
Krystal finishes first, releasing a loud, unladylike burp and wiping her mouth before going, "She will be sorely missed, fondly remembered!"
"Don't make it sound like a fucking funeral." Minho bemoans.
"Shut up." Krystal chucks her beer bottle and misses the trashcan. It doesn't break, but bounces onto the soft-packed ground.
"Look! There's the moon!" Hyoyeon's nail, chipped with black varnish, points towards the satellite hanging amongst the trees. A number of other people had noticed it as well, and car engines begin to rev. Tables are shuffled out of the way to allow the participants to line up for the race.
"Come on," Minho gets to his feet, grabbing Taemin by the arm and pulling him up as well. "I've still got something I want to show you."
Krystal's daft eyes look past them as Minho guides Taemin through the dust and exhaust fumes kicked up by the cars as they amble towards the start line. He tries to follow her gaze, back up the hill, but all he sees is a tall billboard shadowed by tall trees. The lights used to illuminate it's advertisement were long dead.
Minho doesn't let go of Taemin's hand the entire steep walk into the small woods alongside the highway, leading him to the base of the billboard, where an old ladder leans against it, connecting to the platform beneath the sign.
It's a bit terrifying to climb; even though Minho holds the ladder for Taemin, it still wobbles as his ascends. But the view from atop the billboard is breathtaking. It hadn't seemed that high, but the cars are small and quiet, and the moon is large and round and out in the open from his vantage point.
It's a still night, almost windless. The vehicles on the highway a couple hundred feet away zoom past, oblivious to Taemin and Minho, oblivious to the drag race beneath the bridge.
Minho wrangles himself up the ladder like its second nature to him, and comes to stand beside Taemin, whose mouth had dropped open without his knowledge.
"Breathtaking, right?" Minho grins. "You can actually see the stars out here."
"It's... awesome." Taemin can't articulate how he feels right now.
"I used to come here a lot when I was younger. Whenever my dad pissed me off, I'd ride my bike all the way out here--it took like two hours--and then I'd climb up here and stare at the stars until all my problems seemed small in comparison to the problems of the universe."
Taemin can't help himself, he snickers. "I never took you for the philosophical type."
"You learn something new every day." Minho replies. "I'm a Sagittarius, it's in my blood."
"And superstitious?"
Minho grabs Taemin by his sides, faking him out with a light push and a tight grip pulling him back. Taemin grabs hold of him, unleashing a string of curses.
"Shit, don't fucking do that."
"Sit down. I won't let you fall." Minho is unapologetic, and Taemin sinks against the billboard until his butt hits the grated platform and pretzels his legs. Minho does the same, reaching into his pocket and extracting a slightly crumpled cigarette box. He taps out a pristine rolled joint, nearly identical in size to an actual cigarette, and lights it with his zippo.
The faint sound of a whistle draws their attentions down to the race, which had just begun. Two cars shoot forward, one slides and loses traction, falling into second place within seconds. It's over in under a minute, and loud, belligerently cheering voices carry up with the slight breeze rustling through the tree tops.
Minho hands the spliff to Taemin. "What do you think?" he asks.
"About what? And you call me vague." Taemin blows smoke into his face. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you better think twice. I've got standards you know, the kind that involve you having shit to explain."
Minho smiles, arms propped on the short metal bar caging the platform and supporting the broken beam-lights. His eyes are distant, and his legs dangle precariously over the edge, hooked at the knees. "I love you for being so forward about what you want,"--here, Taemin chokes on his hit, coughing out surprised plumes of smoke as Minho continues, emitting a little laugh--"It forces me to do the same, or risk falling behind. If I lose to you, I lose you. I don't want to lose you. But then I also have to tell you about the blood and the violence and the drugs and the rest of the package deal."
"Well," Taemin opens teary eyes, recovering from the painful exhale and the shock of Minho's offhanded confession. "Your sort of just did."
Minho looks surprised himself. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." Then his expression morphs into a grimace. "But let's be honest, how long do you see this relationship lasting? You're a ballerina of all things, and I'm kkanggpae. For that reason alone, I've kept my distance. Or at least I've tried to. This is the first time I've ever felt this way."
Taemin closes his eyes, let's out a slow breath. "So what if we're not forever? Forever's not what I'm looking forwards to tomorrow."
"This isn't a temporary thing, Taemin. I'm not going to change my life--or who it's made me. I can't--my life is who I am, and I don't know how to be anyone else. If you can accept that--that I am a criminal working for a large organized crime family, that at any time I or you may be put in imminent danger, and that sometimes, in order to protect you, I just can't tell you the whole truth."
"I'm not asking you to change, I'm asking you to love me." Taemin feels oddly mitigated in the moment, and everything is surreal. "Is there anything else you need to tell me? That you have several mistresses and launder cocaine across the border?"
Minho's reaction to Taemin's serious expression is not what he had expected. Instead of cynicism and abrasive shutdowns, Minho falls backwards onto the platform because he's laughing so hard. "Shit," he says between breaths. "I love you Taemin, you win."
Taemin barely makes his words out from his vivacious laughter. "Are you kidding me--yah, what did you say?!"
"Nothing." Minho's still laughing, but he's catching his breath and wiping at his eyes.
"Say it again," Taemin demands, the joint long forgotten and resting on the grating between them. "and mean it."
"Nothing?" Minho grins at him. "I haven't laughed like that in years. Years, Taemin."
"Not that," Taemin pushes him and they get into a half-hearted a tug-of-war, grabbing at each other's arms like schoolgirls having a catfight. "Are you really going to be like this? Right now? In this moment we're having?"
Minho lets go of Taemin then, and gets onto one knee facing him. "Is this better?" he says, amusement still lighting his eyes. "Taemin, I'm in love with you."
"It's too late. You ruined the moment." Taemin's heart is all fluttery and ridiculous though, and probably in danger of over-elation.
"That was short-lived." Minho plays along, tucking the joint behind his ear and throwing one foot onto the ladder. "See you around then?"
Taemin raises a brow at him, suggestively coyer than he usually is. "Didn't I tell you I had standards?
"You're right," Taemin goes on, looking up at the sky. "It feels like life really isn't that bad up here. Like all my problems can be solved, if I just look at them in a different perspective."
Minho's eyes never leave his as he leans back on his elbows. He cants over and kisses Taemin without another word, neck craned to make the proper connection, luring him into leaning forwards and into his reach. Minho pulls Taeming over his lap, leaning against the billboard and tilting his chin up, pulling Taemin's upper lip with his teeth and enjoying the sound he makes, the way his hips sink further into Minho's lap; the way he retaliates, raking his teeth against his bottom lip, pushing harder against him.
The drag race is forgotten about completely, and so are the stars, the moon, the trees, the world. If Taemin could summarize heaven in one moment, this would definitely be it.
"What kind of crazy does it take for two completely different people like us to fall for each other?" Taemin wonders aloud, breathless and in a state of complete placidity.
"You said it yourself," Minho's voice is soft and cheery and confident, and he smiles into the small of Taemin's neck. "A different kind."
previous
note; Thank cosipotente for coercing me into posting it, I've been putting it off cuz I suck. Also, a huge THANK YOU to everyone who supported this fic, waited patiently for my slow updates, and enjoyed the story of course! o 3 o;;
This will probably be my last fanfic for awhile. If you're still interested in following my speculative writing, I've got a tumblr for that now: fictomancy and ofc, planetwalkers. I'm sort of torn between posting original fic on the internet... anybody have tips for that? In general, but mostly so that my ideas won't be stolen. ;w;
Also, I'm going to unlock ADKC but I will lock it again if I find it shared without my consent or plagiarized. READ ON, ROCK ON. \m/