open-mouthed smile
ontae
pg-13 (hate ratings bc I don't get them)
wc 3137
warnings: taemin's a minor, if that bothers you
(unedited so there might be inconsistencies/typoes
He likes slender ankles, hair tucked behind ears and eyes that blink too often. He likes long limbs, smaller curves more than larger curves and smiles that pull him in.
What he doesn’t like is how Taemin has all of these.
It didn’t start that way. These sorts of things never do, Jinki figures, and by the time they realize it’s too late.
It started with his mom coming by, a plate of cookies in her hand, a wide smile, a middle-school Taemin standing awkwardly next to her. He was almost smiling, though he looked out of place next to his mom, the space too large between him and his mom. When he smiled, his smile was all teeth and his lips didn’t so much curve as open to show his slightly crooked teeth. There was a gap, from a missing canine.
“We just moved in next door,” his mom said. Jinki could see the familial resemblance in the smile, the open-mouth smile that he started to associate with the Lee family from that moment. “My name is Lee Suyun and this is my son, Taemin.”
Jinki smiles, takes the offered plate. “I’m Lee Jinki, and welcome. I hope you settle in well.”
She bows, Taemin stares at him wide-eyed, that smile still in place. “Are you an ajusshi? You look too young to be an ajusshi.”
Suyun looks embarrassed, mouth open to scold, but Jinki’s laugh stops her. “I’m not an ajusshi; I’m only twenty-three. You can call me hyung.”
Taemin nods, the smile faltering. “Nice to meet you hyung.”
“Nice to meet you as well.”
Three weeks later Jinki somehow starts looking after Taemin in the evenings, because his parents are busy and his older brother is always out at night. He was never asked, but Taemin simply showed up at his door one night and told him he was home alone.
At first, Jinki stares at him. Taemin stares back and he’s not smiling now, but solemn, at least a foot shorter than him. (Jinki learns two months later, when Taemin is over for who knows what time, that it was ten inches.)
Then he invites him inside and Taemin does his homework at Jinki’s table, back straight, arms at right angles to the table. It’s basic math, though it’s math that Jinki can hardly remember. He makes dinner for two, made from whatever he’s got from the fridge. The next time Taemin comes over, though, he orders pizza because he’s got nothing in his kitchen and his cooking skills are not up to scratch to serve a middle-school kid.
Taemin, he finds out, is curious about everything. He asks about Jinki’s job, his family, what foods he likes and dislikes, and odd questions like what his favorite plant is, or favorite color teddy bear. Jinki answers all of the questions honestly, or as honestly as he can because one day Taemin asks him what his ideal woman is.
Jinki doesn’t know how to tell Taemin about bisexuality and he gives him a vague answer about long limbs and an open smile. Taemin takes the information in seriously, almost too seriously.
He’s invited to Taemin’s middle-school graduation two years later, though he finds out that it’s mostly because he threw a fit when he heard that Jinki wasn’t invited. It amuses him, but it’s not as amusing when he finds out that his parents are home often and say that Jinki probably sees Taemin more often than they do.
The idea that Taemin skips to his house at least every other night when he doesn’t need to is frightening, because Jinki’s scared he’s going to get more attached than he should. And, after the graduation, when Taemin is still coming over after high school and asking for help on his homework, Jinki doesn’t tell him no.
It starts to become a problem. A few months that Taemin enters high school, he gets a growth spurt and he’s only a few inches shorter than Jinki. His limbs are longer, his smile wider than before, and he is so, so, so slender. His fingers encircle Taemin’s wrist with too much ease, as he discovers by accident.
He was about to snatch food from the still-hot pot and it had seemed natural to grab his wrist, but the moment his hand was on Taemin’s warm skin, something was off. His wrist was delicate and Jinki roughly lets go a moment later; Taemin steps away, mumbling an apology. Jinki can’t look at Taemin because, for some goddamn reason, he’s blushing. He can’t let Taemin see this.
It becomes a problem when his face grows into itself: his hair has grown out and he hasn’t cut it for years; his smile is ready and sometimes a little secretive, inviting Jinki to dive into it, discover what he can. He’s graceful, reminding Jinki of documentaries he’s seen on gazelles, sprinting every which way.
But Jinki can’t think like this. He can’t think of Taemin like this. He’s twenty-five now, he’s doing well at his job, and he’s done paying off all his student loans. It used to be lonely, but he never seemed to need a girlfriend or boyfriend when Taemin was over all the time.
The solution to his problem is to get a girlfriend or boyfriend. Jinki thinks that if he does this, Taemin will stop coming over as often. If he has a partner, Taemin will stay away because he doesn’t want to interfere.
He meets a guy named Jonghyun, and at first it goes well. Taemin is a second year in high school and is still growing, but he doesn’t stop coming over. He doesn’t try to get in between Jonghyun and Jinki, but he’s still there, a high schooler sitting at Jinki’s table quietly doing his homework.
A few months later Jonghyun breaks up with him and the problem only gets worse.
“Can you please stop coming by?” Jinki asks one day.
“Why? Do you not like me coming over?” Taemin is staring at him with that look that always got him an extra serving meat, an ice cream, help with essays and English homework.
“I do,” Jinki frowns, “But you need to stop coming by.”
“If you like me coming by, why do I need to stop?”
It sounds simple, but Jinki knows that the logic Taemin’s using is narrow. It doesn’t take propriety and other things into consideration.
“I think you spend too much time here, with me. Shouldn’t you have other friends?”
Taemin smiles widely at him, that smile that kills him, all teeth. “I have hyung.”
“What about school?”
“I have friends at school, but I’d rather spend time with you than them.”
Jinki swallows. “Taemin, you should hang out with them instead. It’s better that way.”
Taemin looks crushed. (His face has always been an open book.)
From then on, Jinki stays late at work. He takes long routes home to avoid the possibility of Taemin coming by. He desperately makes new friends at work, and at bars, everywhere he can. He stays out as late as he possibly can.
Each day is harder than the next; every week is long and interminable. Money that he was saving up for something- he never knew what for, exactly- starts to dwindle because of his unnecessary expenses. He’s tired all the time, partly because he’s hungover or drunk all the time.
The drinking slows down after a month, but he still spends as little time in his apartment as possible. It’s not right, he tells himself, to be attracted to someone so young. He’s twenty-six now, and Taemin has only just turned seventeen. Jesus Christ, he remembers when Taemin’s voice hadn’t deepened yet and he was there all the way through it cracking. He remembers when Taemin didn’t know how to structure an essay, when he had no clue what trigonometry was and now he’s all grown up.
Taemin’s supposed to be like a son, or something, not something he wakes up sweaty over, half-hard when thinking of that open smile and slender body.
Instead of Taemin, he finds tupperwares of food outside his door and kimchi that stinks the hallway up. Instead of seeing Taemin, he receives post-its stuck to his door, and notes pushed under, notes that say ‘hi’ and ‘how are you?’ There are no accusatory notes, which Jinki wonders about but doesn’t pursue.
(One time he sees Taemin out on the streets, with a couple friends, and Jinki is very drunk and thinks that he might like to talk to Taemin, that he really fucking misses that kid, but he’s with friends and he knows he’s not that old, but they’re in their fucking teens and just no, that is not his world.)
Then he gets sick. It comes at a really shitty moment too, a head cold with a nose that doesn’t stop running and a fever that’s just starting to peak. Jinki tries to go in to work anyways, ignoring his illness is a habit by now, but they send him home after a couple hours. He hopes that Taemin won’t come by, but his doorbell rings at just past 7 and he staggers to answer.
He’s in his school uniform, the button-down shirt, slacks that are just a little too short and his hair is neatly tucked behind his ear. He looks surprised to see him, but then smiles brilliantly.
“Hyung! It’s been a while. Seven months, in fact.”
“You’ve grown,” he mumbles, sniffing, running a hand over his face.
“Yeah, I have, haven’t I? I’m your height now!”
Jinki smiles, and feels something twinge in his head from pain. “I remember when you were a little kid,” he forces himself to remember. “You were tiny.”
Taemin rolls his eyes and pushes his way inside; Jinki wonders if he was always this pushy.
“Wow, your place sure has changed,” he hears Taemin say dryly and Jinki sighs as he closes his door and then leans against it.
“While you’re here, could you give your mom back the tupperware?”
“You want me to leave already?” Taemin asks, whirling around. Jinki squeezes his eyes tightly shut.
“I don’t want you to get sick.”
“You’re sick?” Taemin sounds surprised and Jinki hears his feet pad back to Jinki and then a cool hand is on his forehead. “You’re warm.”
“I was sent home from work,” he mutters. “I was told I was in no way capable of getting anything done.”
A hand grabs one of his and he’s lead through his apartment by Taemin, his grip firm, his fingers long. “I’ll make you some porridge or something,” Taemin says as Jinki is sat down on his bed, pushed down to lay flat and covers are pulled over him. (This is somehow going differently than how he’d imagined and dreamed it going.)
He falls asleep and when he wakes up and putters out of his bedroom, he finds Taemin sitting at his table, papers spread in front of him, earbuds in place, concentration centered on the sheets in front of him. He glances up when Jinki enters and a smiles spreads itself across his face, bright and eager. The earbuds are pulled out and he stands, rushing to Jinki’s kitchen.
“I have porridge for you,” he calls. “My mom came over and helped a bit, but otherwise it was mostly made by me.”
“Mostly,” Jinki echoes quietly, thumping down in one of the chairs. A bowl is soon set in front of him, with a spoon and a glass of water.
“I couldn’t find your medicine,” Taemin says, a gentle frown on his face. “But you should take something.”
“You should head back,” Jinki mumbles, sniffing. “You don’t need to stay here.”
“Someone needs to take care of you though.”
Jinki shakes his head, the motion sending a ripple of pain through his head that causes his toes to curl. “You should head back.”
A hand is on his forehead again and Jinki glances up at Taemin again. He looks concerned and his hand is slightly cool against his skin, pads of his fingers on his temple.
“I know you were avoiding me, hyung, but right now you should let me take care of you.”
“You’re seventeen,” Jinki complains. “I’m in bad shape if I need a teenager taking care of me.”
Taemin’s hand moves away and forces Jinki to grip the spoon. “I don’t care what you think of me,” he says, voice low. “But you need to get better and that means eating something.”
He doesn’t know what to say to Taemin, about how all of his problems stem from caring too much about Taemin and in conjunction what Taemin thinks about him, and so he says nothing.
(The porridge was a bit too watery, but he still eats the entire bowl and the potful on his stove.)
After a couple days, Jinki is back on his feet, and he cuts all the crap from before. He’s done with avoiding Taemin, because it’s achieving absolutely nothing, and Taemin knows. He knows that Jinki’s been avoiding him and that hurts Jinki more than he expected.
And so Taemin knocks on his door and rings his doorbell around 7 o’clock and Jinki answers with a smile. “Let’s go take a walk,” he announces. “It’s been a beautiful May day.”
They go to the park nearby, the square-block one, with a dog run and one too many squirrels and pigeons. Taemin is in casual clothes today, skinnies and a t-shirt with the Rolling Stones logo. Jinki used to wear skinnies, too, back in the day. He doesn’t anymore, and he’s still in his clothes from work: his navy button-down, pressed grey pants, a striped tie.
“How was work?”
“Good,” Jinki answers idly, glancing up at the sky. It’s still bright, which is nice, the sky a nice shade of blue that is slowly starting to darken. It’s his favorite sky, the start of sunset. “And you? How was school?”
Taemin follows his gaze upwards. “Pretty much normal. I had a test in history today.”
Jinki turns to look at him. “How’d it go?”
Taemin shrugs. “Well, I guess.”
They walk around the park once before Taemin stops them to sit at a bench, long, slender legs splayed in front of him. Jinki wishes he could take a picture, of his legs, the expectant look he’s being given.
“You brought me here to talk about something, so please, shoot. Hit me with your worst.”
Jinki rolls his eyes and sits next to him. He doesn’t stretch out his legs and sits properly, back pressed against the bench. “Why do you assume it’s going to be bad?”
Taemin gives him a look. “You avoided me for months, hyung, there’s little chance for this to be good.”
“Well,” Jinki starts, but then stops. He stares at the tree in front of him, for lack of something better to look at (other than Taemin, that is) and licks his lips. “It’s about that, actually. I’d like it if you stayed away, if you stopped coming over.”
Taemin sits up; their thighs brush and Jinki shifts away.
“Do I get a reason?”
“Why, want one?”
“Of course I do.” Taemin’s voice is sharp, biting the tender parts of Jinki’s heart.
“I- I don’t understand why you come over in the first place.”
“I come over because I like you.”
Jinki looks over at him quickly, ripping his gaze from the tree. “What?”
“Well, yeah, you’re cool hyung, I like spending time with you.”
His heart stops for a moment. “Oh.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. I’m fine.”
Taemin’s hand is on his forehead again and Jinki jerks away, brushing his hand away, fingers circling around his wrist.
“And do you like me?”
“I do,” Jinki breathes out, far too easily. “I like you.”
“Then can I kiss you?”
Taemin’s smiling, that smile that’s all teeth, round cheeks, and hair is falling into his face from behind his ears. Jinki wants to touch his hair, feel strands run through his fingers, and cup that skull but Taemin is nine years younger than him and a minor.
“You can’t.”
The smile falters. “But don’t you want to kiss me?”
Jinki stands, suddenly, takes a few steps before turning to look at Taemin. It’s safe- rather, safer from this distance. “I’m nine years your senior.”
“So? My parents are five years apart, I don’t think it’s that big a deal.”
They both blink; Jinki from surprise, Taemin just because he blinks a lot.
“But nine years? That’s more than half your life!”
Taemin rolls his eyes and stands. That’s not good. Jinki takes another couple steps away. “Hyung, come on, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like you’re that old.”
“Taemin, what do you want from me?”
Jinki’s not quick enough and Taemin’s standing in front of him, their eyes unfairly level, and Taemin’s hand is curving around his neck. “I would like to kiss you.”
He jerks back. “You shouldn’t want to do that. Besides, we’re in public.”
“So,” Taemin brightens, “It’s okay if we go back to your apartment?”
Jinki reels in horror. “No, no, no, that is most definitely not okay either.”
“Hyung, come on, just a kiss?”
“No.”
Taemin blinks, stepping far too close, so close Jinki can feel his breath. “Why not?” He knows he should step back, that this proximity is beyond improper, that Suyun would kill Jinki for doing this and that all he really, really wants is to kiss Taemin himself. But he doesn’t step back and slowly, Taemin leans forward that littlest bit more and kisses Jinki softly.
It’s not nearly enough. Taemin’s seventeen, Jinki figures that he knows that this sort of kiss just doesn’t cut it, but he won’t push it. He’s a minor; Jinki could be arrested for this. Taemin leans back a bit, blinks at Jinki, smiles his open-mouthed smile and Jinki leans forward this time, kissing Taemin in the open, and curls fingers through his thick hair, biting his lips, running his thumb along his hairline.
“We should go back to your apartment,” Taemin says, pulling away, lips red and eyes eagerly bright. “Okay?”
Jinki swallows. “You should come back when you’re eighteen.”
He’s given a look that says come on, hyung, it’s only a couple months but Taemin nods.
“Fine.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Okay, hyung, I get it. It’s only a month.”
“A couple.”
Taemin gives him a look and this one is part scolding and part affectionate. Something tightens in Jinki’s chest. He definitely shouldn’t be looking into starting a relationship with someone so much younger than him, but Taemin’s become his exact type.
a/n omg this was somehow so difficult to write D:
for my friend latosha on tumblr
pg-13 (hate ratings bc I don't get them)
wc 3137
warnings: taemin's a minor, if that bothers you
(unedited so there might be inconsistencies/typoes
He likes slender ankles, hair tucked behind ears and eyes that blink too often. He likes long limbs, smaller curves more than larger curves and smiles that pull him in.
What he doesn’t like is how Taemin has all of these.
It didn’t start that way. These sorts of things never do, Jinki figures, and by the time they realize it’s too late.
It started with his mom coming by, a plate of cookies in her hand, a wide smile, a middle-school Taemin standing awkwardly next to her. He was almost smiling, though he looked out of place next to his mom, the space too large between him and his mom. When he smiled, his smile was all teeth and his lips didn’t so much curve as open to show his slightly crooked teeth. There was a gap, from a missing canine.
“We just moved in next door,” his mom said. Jinki could see the familial resemblance in the smile, the open-mouth smile that he started to associate with the Lee family from that moment. “My name is Lee Suyun and this is my son, Taemin.”
Jinki smiles, takes the offered plate. “I’m Lee Jinki, and welcome. I hope you settle in well.”
She bows, Taemin stares at him wide-eyed, that smile still in place. “Are you an ajusshi? You look too young to be an ajusshi.”
Suyun looks embarrassed, mouth open to scold, but Jinki’s laugh stops her. “I’m not an ajusshi; I’m only twenty-three. You can call me hyung.”
Taemin nods, the smile faltering. “Nice to meet you hyung.”
“Nice to meet you as well.”
Three weeks later Jinki somehow starts looking after Taemin in the evenings, because his parents are busy and his older brother is always out at night. He was never asked, but Taemin simply showed up at his door one night and told him he was home alone.
At first, Jinki stares at him. Taemin stares back and he’s not smiling now, but solemn, at least a foot shorter than him. (Jinki learns two months later, when Taemin is over for who knows what time, that it was ten inches.)
Then he invites him inside and Taemin does his homework at Jinki’s table, back straight, arms at right angles to the table. It’s basic math, though it’s math that Jinki can hardly remember. He makes dinner for two, made from whatever he’s got from the fridge. The next time Taemin comes over, though, he orders pizza because he’s got nothing in his kitchen and his cooking skills are not up to scratch to serve a middle-school kid.
Taemin, he finds out, is curious about everything. He asks about Jinki’s job, his family, what foods he likes and dislikes, and odd questions like what his favorite plant is, or favorite color teddy bear. Jinki answers all of the questions honestly, or as honestly as he can because one day Taemin asks him what his ideal woman is.
Jinki doesn’t know how to tell Taemin about bisexuality and he gives him a vague answer about long limbs and an open smile. Taemin takes the information in seriously, almost too seriously.
He’s invited to Taemin’s middle-school graduation two years later, though he finds out that it’s mostly because he threw a fit when he heard that Jinki wasn’t invited. It amuses him, but it’s not as amusing when he finds out that his parents are home often and say that Jinki probably sees Taemin more often than they do.
The idea that Taemin skips to his house at least every other night when he doesn’t need to is frightening, because Jinki’s scared he’s going to get more attached than he should. And, after the graduation, when Taemin is still coming over after high school and asking for help on his homework, Jinki doesn’t tell him no.
It starts to become a problem. A few months that Taemin enters high school, he gets a growth spurt and he’s only a few inches shorter than Jinki. His limbs are longer, his smile wider than before, and he is so, so, so slender. His fingers encircle Taemin’s wrist with too much ease, as he discovers by accident.
He was about to snatch food from the still-hot pot and it had seemed natural to grab his wrist, but the moment his hand was on Taemin’s warm skin, something was off. His wrist was delicate and Jinki roughly lets go a moment later; Taemin steps away, mumbling an apology. Jinki can’t look at Taemin because, for some goddamn reason, he’s blushing. He can’t let Taemin see this.
It becomes a problem when his face grows into itself: his hair has grown out and he hasn’t cut it for years; his smile is ready and sometimes a little secretive, inviting Jinki to dive into it, discover what he can. He’s graceful, reminding Jinki of documentaries he’s seen on gazelles, sprinting every which way.
But Jinki can’t think like this. He can’t think of Taemin like this. He’s twenty-five now, he’s doing well at his job, and he’s done paying off all his student loans. It used to be lonely, but he never seemed to need a girlfriend or boyfriend when Taemin was over all the time.
The solution to his problem is to get a girlfriend or boyfriend. Jinki thinks that if he does this, Taemin will stop coming over as often. If he has a partner, Taemin will stay away because he doesn’t want to interfere.
He meets a guy named Jonghyun, and at first it goes well. Taemin is a second year in high school and is still growing, but he doesn’t stop coming over. He doesn’t try to get in between Jonghyun and Jinki, but he’s still there, a high schooler sitting at Jinki’s table quietly doing his homework.
A few months later Jonghyun breaks up with him and the problem only gets worse.
“Can you please stop coming by?” Jinki asks one day.
“Why? Do you not like me coming over?” Taemin is staring at him with that look that always got him an extra serving meat, an ice cream, help with essays and English homework.
“I do,” Jinki frowns, “But you need to stop coming by.”
“If you like me coming by, why do I need to stop?”
It sounds simple, but Jinki knows that the logic Taemin’s using is narrow. It doesn’t take propriety and other things into consideration.
“I think you spend too much time here, with me. Shouldn’t you have other friends?”
Taemin smiles widely at him, that smile that kills him, all teeth. “I have hyung.”
“What about school?”
“I have friends at school, but I’d rather spend time with you than them.”
Jinki swallows. “Taemin, you should hang out with them instead. It’s better that way.”
Taemin looks crushed. (His face has always been an open book.)
From then on, Jinki stays late at work. He takes long routes home to avoid the possibility of Taemin coming by. He desperately makes new friends at work, and at bars, everywhere he can. He stays out as late as he possibly can.
Each day is harder than the next; every week is long and interminable. Money that he was saving up for something- he never knew what for, exactly- starts to dwindle because of his unnecessary expenses. He’s tired all the time, partly because he’s hungover or drunk all the time.
The drinking slows down after a month, but he still spends as little time in his apartment as possible. It’s not right, he tells himself, to be attracted to someone so young. He’s twenty-six now, and Taemin has only just turned seventeen. Jesus Christ, he remembers when Taemin’s voice hadn’t deepened yet and he was there all the way through it cracking. He remembers when Taemin didn’t know how to structure an essay, when he had no clue what trigonometry was and now he’s all grown up.
Taemin’s supposed to be like a son, or something, not something he wakes up sweaty over, half-hard when thinking of that open smile and slender body.
Instead of Taemin, he finds tupperwares of food outside his door and kimchi that stinks the hallway up. Instead of seeing Taemin, he receives post-its stuck to his door, and notes pushed under, notes that say ‘hi’ and ‘how are you?’ There are no accusatory notes, which Jinki wonders about but doesn’t pursue.
(One time he sees Taemin out on the streets, with a couple friends, and Jinki is very drunk and thinks that he might like to talk to Taemin, that he really fucking misses that kid, but he’s with friends and he knows he’s not that old, but they’re in their fucking teens and just no, that is not his world.)
Then he gets sick. It comes at a really shitty moment too, a head cold with a nose that doesn’t stop running and a fever that’s just starting to peak. Jinki tries to go in to work anyways, ignoring his illness is a habit by now, but they send him home after a couple hours. He hopes that Taemin won’t come by, but his doorbell rings at just past 7 and he staggers to answer.
He’s in his school uniform, the button-down shirt, slacks that are just a little too short and his hair is neatly tucked behind his ear. He looks surprised to see him, but then smiles brilliantly.
“Hyung! It’s been a while. Seven months, in fact.”
“You’ve grown,” he mumbles, sniffing, running a hand over his face.
“Yeah, I have, haven’t I? I’m your height now!”
Jinki smiles, and feels something twinge in his head from pain. “I remember when you were a little kid,” he forces himself to remember. “You were tiny.”
Taemin rolls his eyes and pushes his way inside; Jinki wonders if he was always this pushy.
“Wow, your place sure has changed,” he hears Taemin say dryly and Jinki sighs as he closes his door and then leans against it.
“While you’re here, could you give your mom back the tupperware?”
“You want me to leave already?” Taemin asks, whirling around. Jinki squeezes his eyes tightly shut.
“I don’t want you to get sick.”
“You’re sick?” Taemin sounds surprised and Jinki hears his feet pad back to Jinki and then a cool hand is on his forehead. “You’re warm.”
“I was sent home from work,” he mutters. “I was told I was in no way capable of getting anything done.”
A hand grabs one of his and he’s lead through his apartment by Taemin, his grip firm, his fingers long. “I’ll make you some porridge or something,” Taemin says as Jinki is sat down on his bed, pushed down to lay flat and covers are pulled over him. (This is somehow going differently than how he’d imagined and dreamed it going.)
He falls asleep and when he wakes up and putters out of his bedroom, he finds Taemin sitting at his table, papers spread in front of him, earbuds in place, concentration centered on the sheets in front of him. He glances up when Jinki enters and a smiles spreads itself across his face, bright and eager. The earbuds are pulled out and he stands, rushing to Jinki’s kitchen.
“I have porridge for you,” he calls. “My mom came over and helped a bit, but otherwise it was mostly made by me.”
“Mostly,” Jinki echoes quietly, thumping down in one of the chairs. A bowl is soon set in front of him, with a spoon and a glass of water.
“I couldn’t find your medicine,” Taemin says, a gentle frown on his face. “But you should take something.”
“You should head back,” Jinki mumbles, sniffing. “You don’t need to stay here.”
“Someone needs to take care of you though.”
Jinki shakes his head, the motion sending a ripple of pain through his head that causes his toes to curl. “You should head back.”
A hand is on his forehead again and Jinki glances up at Taemin again. He looks concerned and his hand is slightly cool against his skin, pads of his fingers on his temple.
“I know you were avoiding me, hyung, but right now you should let me take care of you.”
“You’re seventeen,” Jinki complains. “I’m in bad shape if I need a teenager taking care of me.”
Taemin’s hand moves away and forces Jinki to grip the spoon. “I don’t care what you think of me,” he says, voice low. “But you need to get better and that means eating something.”
He doesn’t know what to say to Taemin, about how all of his problems stem from caring too much about Taemin and in conjunction what Taemin thinks about him, and so he says nothing.
(The porridge was a bit too watery, but he still eats the entire bowl and the potful on his stove.)
After a couple days, Jinki is back on his feet, and he cuts all the crap from before. He’s done with avoiding Taemin, because it’s achieving absolutely nothing, and Taemin knows. He knows that Jinki’s been avoiding him and that hurts Jinki more than he expected.
And so Taemin knocks on his door and rings his doorbell around 7 o’clock and Jinki answers with a smile. “Let’s go take a walk,” he announces. “It’s been a beautiful May day.”
They go to the park nearby, the square-block one, with a dog run and one too many squirrels and pigeons. Taemin is in casual clothes today, skinnies and a t-shirt with the Rolling Stones logo. Jinki used to wear skinnies, too, back in the day. He doesn’t anymore, and he’s still in his clothes from work: his navy button-down, pressed grey pants, a striped tie.
“How was work?”
“Good,” Jinki answers idly, glancing up at the sky. It’s still bright, which is nice, the sky a nice shade of blue that is slowly starting to darken. It’s his favorite sky, the start of sunset. “And you? How was school?”
Taemin follows his gaze upwards. “Pretty much normal. I had a test in history today.”
Jinki turns to look at him. “How’d it go?”
Taemin shrugs. “Well, I guess.”
They walk around the park once before Taemin stops them to sit at a bench, long, slender legs splayed in front of him. Jinki wishes he could take a picture, of his legs, the expectant look he’s being given.
“You brought me here to talk about something, so please, shoot. Hit me with your worst.”
Jinki rolls his eyes and sits next to him. He doesn’t stretch out his legs and sits properly, back pressed against the bench. “Why do you assume it’s going to be bad?”
Taemin gives him a look. “You avoided me for months, hyung, there’s little chance for this to be good.”
“Well,” Jinki starts, but then stops. He stares at the tree in front of him, for lack of something better to look at (other than Taemin, that is) and licks his lips. “It’s about that, actually. I’d like it if you stayed away, if you stopped coming over.”
Taemin sits up; their thighs brush and Jinki shifts away.
“Do I get a reason?”
“Why, want one?”
“Of course I do.” Taemin’s voice is sharp, biting the tender parts of Jinki’s heart.
“I- I don’t understand why you come over in the first place.”
“I come over because I like you.”
Jinki looks over at him quickly, ripping his gaze from the tree. “What?”
“Well, yeah, you’re cool hyung, I like spending time with you.”
His heart stops for a moment. “Oh.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. I’m fine.”
Taemin’s hand is on his forehead again and Jinki jerks away, brushing his hand away, fingers circling around his wrist.
“And do you like me?”
“I do,” Jinki breathes out, far too easily. “I like you.”
“Then can I kiss you?”
Taemin’s smiling, that smile that’s all teeth, round cheeks, and hair is falling into his face from behind his ears. Jinki wants to touch his hair, feel strands run through his fingers, and cup that skull but Taemin is nine years younger than him and a minor.
“You can’t.”
The smile falters. “But don’t you want to kiss me?”
Jinki stands, suddenly, takes a few steps before turning to look at Taemin. It’s safe- rather, safer from this distance. “I’m nine years your senior.”
“So? My parents are five years apart, I don’t think it’s that big a deal.”
They both blink; Jinki from surprise, Taemin just because he blinks a lot.
“But nine years? That’s more than half your life!”
Taemin rolls his eyes and stands. That’s not good. Jinki takes another couple steps away. “Hyung, come on, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like you’re that old.”
“Taemin, what do you want from me?”
Jinki’s not quick enough and Taemin’s standing in front of him, their eyes unfairly level, and Taemin’s hand is curving around his neck. “I would like to kiss you.”
He jerks back. “You shouldn’t want to do that. Besides, we’re in public.”
“So,” Taemin brightens, “It’s okay if we go back to your apartment?”
Jinki reels in horror. “No, no, no, that is most definitely not okay either.”
“Hyung, come on, just a kiss?”
“No.”
Taemin blinks, stepping far too close, so close Jinki can feel his breath. “Why not?” He knows he should step back, that this proximity is beyond improper, that Suyun would kill Jinki for doing this and that all he really, really wants is to kiss Taemin himself. But he doesn’t step back and slowly, Taemin leans forward that littlest bit more and kisses Jinki softly.
It’s not nearly enough. Taemin’s seventeen, Jinki figures that he knows that this sort of kiss just doesn’t cut it, but he won’t push it. He’s a minor; Jinki could be arrested for this. Taemin leans back a bit, blinks at Jinki, smiles his open-mouthed smile and Jinki leans forward this time, kissing Taemin in the open, and curls fingers through his thick hair, biting his lips, running his thumb along his hairline.
“We should go back to your apartment,” Taemin says, pulling away, lips red and eyes eagerly bright. “Okay?”
Jinki swallows. “You should come back when you’re eighteen.”
He’s given a look that says come on, hyung, it’s only a couple months but Taemin nods.
“Fine.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Okay, hyung, I get it. It’s only a month.”
“A couple.”
Taemin gives him a look and this one is part scolding and part affectionate. Something tightens in Jinki’s chest. He definitely shouldn’t be looking into starting a relationship with someone so much younger than him, but Taemin’s become his exact type.
a/n omg this was somehow so difficult to write D:
for my friend latosha on tumblr