SHINee Shorts 2014: quagmireisadora
Title: He or She
Author: quagmireisadora
Pairing: Minjung/Jonghyun
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 6861
|9|
Minjung walks in looking like a soldier returned from war.
Jonghyun sits her down and offers her a glass of water. She accepts but doesn’t touch it to her lips. Not once in the fifteen minutes they spend in silence. Relative silence at least, since his phone is buzzing and vibrating madly with Kibum’s incessant messages of where are you or what are you doing.
Jonghyun isn’t sure if he should pry. It isn’t his place to; they’ve only known each other for a little over a year. But there she sits with her glass and her heart in a pair of oddly steady hands. There she sits, waiting to be blown off to a side with the tiniest utterance of sympathy. It’s happened in the past... she suddenly bubbled over at practically nothing and didn’t stop until late into the night.
He isn’t sure what to do for her but the last thing he wants is a bawling room-mate. He isn’t sure what to do with himself but he can’t dawdle around anymore. “Minjunggie,” he starts and then stops, waiting for her to catch hold of the other side of the rope; tug back.
“He said to get an abortion,” she finally reveals to her lap. Her face is a mosaic of confusion and defeat. It’s a seriously pitiful sight. “Said he isn’t ready to be a father,” she adds, dimly placing the water away from herself.
It really is easy to stain a white cloth, Jonghyun thinks then. And he watches Minjung much like he’d watch the fading brushstrokes of a watery painting-the tint too weak, the paper too thick, the shapes too blotted to make anything out with certainty. He tempers his detachment to a concentrated point and carefully kneels before his roommate.
“Listen…” he begins, and hopes the subsequent words will flow out of him smoother than that. They don’t. “I-I have to go now, you know how apoplectic Bummie gets when I’m late for a date. But listen...” he tries once again. “I’ll be back soon. Until then, please try not to.” Jonghyun thinks on the rest of his request. He doesn’t know if it is an intelligent thing to convey. He wants to console the poor woman but with his sight repeatedly straying to the clock, he knows now is not the time. He’s getting late.
“Just. Please be here when I’m back, OK? We’ll work it out together, I promise.”
Minjung looks at him like someone peering through a thick fog. Her fringe patchily covers her forehead, her eyes are gradually dissolving as he stares; the shadow of her nose is wet with oncoming emotion. She rests a palm on the top of his head and strokes it with a thumb. He wants to say more helpful things, be of more use than just an armrest. But that’s the end of their conversation as she quietly gets up and walks away to the privacy of her room, the door clicking shut decisively.
Jonghyun finally answers his wild phone. “Yes, yes, I’m on my way!”
------
|8|
Jonghyun walks in looking broken beyond repair.
“W-what…?!” Minjung begins her query, but he collapses halfway into the threshold. “Oh my g-Jjong!” she jolts, clutching at him with worry. “What happened to you? What-?! What the hell happened to you?!” Frankly, she has no time for this outburst. Her mouth still tastes of last night’s dinner and this morning’s tea. All she wants is to rest; be left alone to her thoughts. She doesn’t need Jonghyun or his drama.
Regardless, she can’t leave him on the floor like this. She crouches even as another wave of morning sickness rises then abates within her gut. “Jjong, what happened?” she inquires gently, swabbing his cheeks dry with the end of her shirt. “Are you hurting somewhere? Did someone upset you? Jonghyun… what’s wrong, tell me.”
“I didn’t think…” he shakes his head in drunken response. She is awfully repulsed from the stench, but still straightens him to lean against a wall instead of the front door. The flat opposite theirs opens. A little boy peeks out his head with curiosity until his mother ushers him back inside. Minjung shuts their apartment door and hears the lock beep before Jonghyun resumes his plaintive account.
“I didn’t think this would happen,” he swats her away through a heavy sob, his body drooping towards the floor. “I didn’t think he would sit before me one day… and not be mine.” His tears drip onto the carpet and stain it a deeper shade.
A lovers’ tiff, Minjung purses her lips. Her morning is being sullied by a lovers’ tiff. She can’t believe it. “OK,” she nods despite her antipathy. “OK, OK, come on, get up. Stand up.” She loops his lazy arm around the back of her neck and supports him even through her own stints of swooning. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she orders, dragging him all the way to his bathroom where she carefully plops him into the tub.
He allows her to undress him, clean him, quiet his lamentations; lets the water turn cold and yank him back to sobriety. As fistfuls splash him in the chest and face, Jonghyun cries like a little boy would to his mother when he tells her about the schoolyard bullies. Minjung listens to him. She hears out the broken-hearted account of Kibum, the boyfriend who is now an ex-boyfriend, being a cheat.
“I didn’t think he’d only picked me up to throw me away…” Jonghyun shivers, sinking deeper into the water. “All I wanted-all I wanted was for him to never let me go. I didn’t th-think I’d ever be nothing to him.”
“Hush,” Minjung pulls his quaking head to herself. “Shh, now, don’t cry. Don’t cry for someone who won’t cry for you,” she lends her advice, wishing the other were clear-headed enough to understand. He only continues to gurgle and wallow until she unplugs the tub to let it drain.
Trembling from the cold, he reaches out for her to carry him. Minjung frowns: he isn’t her responsibility but he is clearly in no condition to get a hold of his self. She caves in, pulling him upright with effort. Cosseted and clothed in something softer, she tucks him into bed hoping he falls asleep immediately. It would give her some peace and quiet for once in this entire wretched morning.
“I didn’t think…” he mutters at the cusp of slumber.
“Yeah,” Minjung replies to his snoring form. “You didn’t.”
------
|7|
The smell of something acrid prods him up and off the sofa. He doesn’t want to leave the safety of warm upholstery or the blanket fort he’s built around himself. But as much as he wouldn’t care if the apartment scorches away… the landlord would.
He finds Minjung in the balcony, burning a pile of something. He can take a wild guess at what that pile is. Or was: the fire has been going for quite some time now. Charred edges of photoshoots and a modeling portfolio quickly liquefy then vanish into thin air. The phone’s been ringing off the hook all week, too. Taemin, who is the father that doesn’t in fact want to be a father, calls unremittingly. But Minjung has stopped answering. She doesn’t seem very intent on getting back together with the man.
Jonghyun can’t blame her.
“What’re you doing?” he asks in his hoarse voice. He hasn’t used it in a long while except to weep into his pillow and leave messages on Kibum’s phone.
“Letting go,” Minjung cleanly answers. She looks furious enough to forge a broken blade so he doesn’t expect her to extrapolate, but he still sticks around. As an afterthought, he slides the balcony door shut behind him. When she raises her eyebrows he shrugs in the direction of the smoke alarms. She affords him a transient smile.
“What will you do now?” Jonghyun genuinely wants to know... perhaps because her answer might lead him to the reset button on his own life. He spares a thought to that-the fact that they’re both trodden over and beaten down with nothing to help them stand back up. No railings in sight, no hands extended out to help. They’re both on the ground with no strength to go on. “What will you do?” he repeats when she doesn’t seem to have heard his meek tone.
“I’ll be a mother,” is the first thing she tells him, then looks down at her abdomen which is slowly bloating up with another living being. “I’ll be what I’m supposed to be for this one. I think it’s important.”
Even with his own troubles pressing down on him, he’s been studying her grow. As odd as it sounds to think it, the air around her seems to mist with signs of another presence. To be sure, she has had a lot of time to take contraceptives, or even go to a nearby clinic. She has had plenty of time to reassess the consequence this will have on her life; she’s had time to piece everything together and think this through.
Still…
“How will you do it alone?” he shakes his head, knowing the arduous life of a single parent, having seen it first-hand while growing up. “It’s not that easy, you know? With this the agency won’t call you back. Not for another year, until you can hire a sitter. How will you raise it? How will you keep it off the streets? What will you do?”
“You’re asking me like you have your own life figured out,” she spits. It is venom: badly concocted venom that burns on his skin.
He doesn’t want to be reminded of it, but now that his eyes have landed back on the tiny puffs of smoke he can’t look away. Minjung may have easily reduced her past and her worries to ashes with the flick of a match. Jonghyun, though, has his past branded in the very cells of his body. What does he do to make it go away?
What should he do to make himself more bearable?
------
|6|
He hangs off the balcony rails too often.
“What do you look for in all that traffic?” Minjung joins him one calm afternoon when her moods aren't swinging like mad pendulums. There was a time when she liked that they were both home for once. There was a time when she liked spending quiet evenings watching crap television with her sweet room-mate. But it saddens her now... the fact that they are both always home. It upsets her that Jonghyun, who once managed to write over eight pages every day, hasn’t scribbled out a single line in over three months. It’s very telling of the predicament they’ve both landed themselves in.
“What’re you thinking about?” she asks.
“How hard it’d hurt. You know, to touch the asphalt…”
Minjung feels rage pillow her forward, oscillating high and hard like a wrecking ball preparing to crack her open. Her blood boils, her hormones seethe. And in a manner very uncharacteristic of her usual self, she kicks a chair out of the way without care for where it lands or what it crashes into. “Get up,” she orders.
“Wh-what? Why-?!”
She yanks him back and slaps his face hard. The shock on Jonghyun's reddening features gives her immense satisfaction. She slaps him again for good measure, and then glares with all her might. “Think of your mother!” she shakes him by the collar, gesturing to his shameful appearance as an added insult: he really has let himself go in the weeks since his break-up. His cheeks are always unshaven, his hair is permanently unkempt. He looks disheveled and bedraggled no matter what time of day it be. It annoys the hell out of Minjung for a reason she doesn't fully comprehend yet.
“Think of what you’re leaving behind for others to scrape up! Do you really want to do that, you ingrate?!” she scolds. She knows that’s not the point, that’s not what she’s supposed to be saying. She knows that she should be spouting wisdom; handing out advice and encouragement at a time like this. She knows that the poor man is in a fragile state of mind right now. But she doesn’t think, just hits him again.
Jonghyun warbles an unintelligible reply from behind a shield of his arms before breaking into tears. Minjung clicks her tongue pityingly, pulls him to her front and holds him there until he quiets down. Truth be told, she has no obligation towards him-a grown man who should frankly be taking charge of his life. But she feels an undeniable need, a deep necessity to help him; to offer him her shoulder if only just for a while.
He’s been drinking a lot lately, in addition to keeping foul company that only retrogresses his recovery instead of speeding it up. He’s been bringing over odd men that stay for a few hours of gratification and then leave before sunrise. What's more, he hangs out at the sort of places the desperate and the perverse are known to frequent, a new face tugging on his clothes every night.
At first she let it slide, thinking it was his way of coping. But she can tell it only makes him worse. With every stranger walking in and out of their apartment, Jonghyun slowly crumbles to disrepair.
“Sit,” she instructs once they’re back indoors. He obediently slumps onto a stool at the kitchen island. She slides a plate of food before him. “Eat,” Minjung orders once more, then growls in her throat when he makes a face and tries to slide it back to her.
His sniffling dies after a long series of minutes spent in wait. Jonghyun wipes his face on the back of his wrist and apologizes. It’s a first; it takes her back. She wasn’t expecting him to act responsibly in the aftermath of such childish behavior. Minjung smiles at him. “It’s OK,” she nods.
But her tantrum is pitching back on her now with a vengeance. Her breath comes out shorter and her heart begins to scald. The herbs steeped in hot water haven’t been helping. The bath salts suggested by a popular women’s magazine just itch her skin. She feels woozy, clutches her head and reaches out for something to support her dizzy weight. Hell, she thinks as her balance starts to falter.
As black spots begin to color her vision, Jonghyun takes hold of her by the waist, leading her to another stool. “Won’t you eat anything?” he asks with gentle concern.
She cringes at the very thought of food.
“That… won’t do, you know?” he reasons. It takes a while for his face to stop swimming around her sights. When finally clear, she scowls at how it is filled to the brim with intense disquiet. “You need to eat more for the baby. You should be eating for two. More than two, in fact.”
“I will…” she assures, trying to catch her breath. “Later.”
------
|5|
“It’s… moving.” Minjung doesn’t look sure of it at first but when she feels her insides roll again she says it with more certainty. “It’s moving!” She circles the growing bulge of her stomach, looking at it with distrust. Jonghyun can’t help but smile at her. “It’s moving, Jjong!” she insists, louder this time and beckoning him forward.
He reaches out. “It’s kicking,” he tells her. “That’s what it’s supposed to d-oh!” he exclaims as he feels a particularly hard shove into his palm. He stares at the spot with wonder, kneeling in front of her and putting his ear to the growing baby. “Yah… it’s your samchoon," he informs in a silly voice. "If you can hear me, give me a sign. W-whoa! It can hear me!” he holds a hand to his kicked cheek and looks up at Minjung, who doesn’t appear very comforted by the fact that something is jostling within her.
“It’s trying to rearrange my intestines…” she complains.
“What? Haha…!” Jonghyun laughs at her, but he knows this pregnancy business is actually a pain. He knows because the baby doesn’t let Minjung sleep, restlessly lurching around in the womb. The only time he’s seen her at peace is when she’s pacing across the living room and even that tires her too soon. He accompanies her through her early yoga program in the mornings but she can’t stand for extended periods. Her legs swell from the weight. She has to use the bathroom too often, she craves sour food at the oddest of times, and she knocks things around without meaning to.
It frustrates her, he sees it in the stress that has suddenly made home on her face.
So he tries to help out-cooks her healthy food from recipes his noona texted him when she heard the news; buys her fresh fruits and vegetables after consulting a prenatal guide online, adds nuts and syrups to her milk when she isn’t looking. He cleans up after her, washes her soiled sheets, scrubs her bathroom, does laundry runs, vacuums daily, and generally makes sure she has a sterile environment to rest in. He screens all the caffeinated and carbonated drinks under the kitchen sink where their bottles of wine are currently hiding. And when the neighbor brings out his nightly cigarettes in the adjoining balcony, Jonghyun knocks on the man’s door until he lets out a curse and stops.
He does whatever he thinks might help, because it makes him feel useful. It gives him a purpose; it distracts him from everything lacking in his insipid life.
Minjung groans and puts her feet up on their coffee table. “I feel… feel like a container. Like a box stuffed with living breathing mush.” Jonghyun brings her a glass of cold water, which she gulps down and then begs him to fetch her more. The heat isn’t making matters easier. He thinks of bringing out the old guitar and singing a lullaby, but she’s thrown him out of the house for it in the past.
So he just makes idle talk instead. “Well, technically, it’s not breathing yet. Just using its gills.”
“Oh, great! I have a humanoid fish wreaking havoc inside me!”
Jonghyun gives up on conversation, too, at that point. He slides the TV remote towards her but she looks at it like a mongoose would a snake. He nervously chuckles and shifts away from her in case a random shower of punches starts to rain on him for no apparent reason.
“Ugh, I just realized. I’m never going to be alone ever again…” Minjung pouts childishly. “This thing will have to be carried around for a year and a half at least until I set it on the ground to be by itself. And even then it’ll still need me. How horrible…”
“At least,” Jonghyun says. “At least you won't be lonely then…”
She acts like she doesn’t hear him.
------
|4|
“I wrote something,” Jonghyun comes to her one afternoon. Minjung wants to wave him away with a reprimand but she can see hints of frightened expectation on his face. If she spurns him now she’ll never hear his voice again, she knows this. It’s a fragile balance that she often tips to the wrong side without a care, but this time she wants to do it right.
“OK,” she replies, sitting up from her bed and wincing a little at the effort. “Let’s go to the park. You can read it to me there.”
Being outdoors feels like a cycle of cleansing. She is… lighter, happier. Her lungs fill to their greatest capacity, her bones move like well-oiled machinery, her blood rushes to its optimum speed. Her body is no longer disgusting and rotund with its purple bruises and its stretched skin. She feels good about herself in a long while, despite the questioning looks she gets from some women-ever since the daily soap started gathering good TV ratings, Choi Minjung became a fairly popular face amongst the housewives of Seoul.
Jonghyun opts for the first bench they come across. She settles down beside him with a content sigh and a tranquil smile playing on her face. “Go on then,” she encourages. “What’ve you written?”
He takes a deep breath as if he’s about to start reciting but then blinks hesitantly. “I’m… I was supposed to write a lot more but I mean, it’s not complete yet,” he stutters. “Cause, you know, I don’t know how to end it right now.” Minjung starts to scold him for beating around the bush so he holds up a hand and apologizes. “OK, OK, sorry! I’ll… I’ll tell you. Just,” he pauses. “Please be kind.”
She doesn’t always understand his work; it’s either too deep for her to comprehend or too emotional to hear through the end. She has tried reading his entries in the corner of their newspaper, along the section where nobody looks except by accident. The meaning of his couplets slips out of her grasp even after re-reading a dozen times. Minjung often wonders if this is the reason he isn’t popular yet. But today she slaps his back in a cheer. “Start.”
He twiddles his thumbs on his lap. His expression is shy, unlike the Jonghyun who’d natter away without so much as a thought in reflection. That brash and thoughtless man has disappeared, replaced by someone softer and meeker. Someone quieter and less self-possessed than the Jonghyun Minjung had first met years ago at a party. She frowns at what Kibum has done with him to make him so timid now; so insecure that he can’t even look himself in the eye when he passes by a mirror.
Again, she nods for him to go on and after a few moments he does.
“You hurt me once before…
Come hurt me once again.
You left me once before,
Come leave me once again.
“How many should I share our story with?
If I displease, come hear the story again.
You hurt me once before,
Come hurt me once again.
“You said hiding love is also a way to love.
So hide me away, never let me out again.
You hurt me once before,
Come hurt me once again.
“The way you make excuses to not meet,
Make another excuse so we meet again.”
You hurt me once before,
Come hurt me once again.”
“There was a kindness you kept aside for me.
Turn around, show me that kindness again.
You hurt me once before,
Come hurt me once again.
You left me once before.
Come leave me once again.”
Minjung doesn’t want to touch him, thinking it will scare him away. Instead, she watches as he quietly finishes his poem and then closes his eyes… like someone finally emptied of everything choking them shut for years.
------
|3|
They remain silent through the bus ride and the train ride. She throws nervous glances at him which he catches with obnoxiously wide grins. “Don’t worry,” he assures as their station approaches. “It’s not going to hurt or anything. It’ll just be like taking an x-ray, that’s all. We can check how the baby’s doing, if it needs something else, maybe find out if there’s more than one you’re carrying in that huge bag of yours,” he lightly pokes her side.
She doesn’t seem convinced. “W-what if this one doesn’t stay still enough for them to take a picture?” Minjung worries, eyes at her stomach. “O-or what if they don’t find a baby in there at all but… but just hot air…? When if it’s abnormal or it has four arms, or two heads, or-”
“Pssht,” he squeezes her hand. A phone is pressed between their palms but he radiates all the warmth he can in spite of it. “You’re worrying over nothing. I’m sure it’ll be a healthy little-ah!” he suddenly turns to her, remembering a question he’s been dying to ask for weeks. “What do you think it’ll be? A boy or a girl?”
Minjung remains silent as the train pulls to a halt and they walk out onto the platform. He doesn’t want to rush her, but right outside the clinic she pulls back on his arm with concern. “I hope it’s a boy...” she confesses. He raises his eyebrows at that because she is the last person he would expect to hear something like that from. “I mean, I used to wish it was, at one time. Because they have it easier, don’t they?” she explains. “But then I look at you,” she says and Jonghyun lets out a heavy breath.
Minjung hangs her head, stroking over her front. “I'll let it be whatever it wants to be.”
The obstetrician explains to them about sound waves and red blood cells and gestational diabetes. “It’s like a tiny whale using sonar. Trying to find out what’s ahead of itself, you know?” she smiles and rubs a bluish cold gel onto Minjung’s stomach, telling her to relax. “Just watch the monitor,” she suggests to both of them as she glides an ultrasound transducer around the bulge.
Jonghyun gasps at the grey blotch of a heartbeat pounding in the center of the tiny screen. “Is… is that?!” he begins and when he gets a confirming nod, he skips a little in his seat. “Minjunggie!” he tugs at the sleeve of her gown. “Look at it! Look at its cute little heart! And… and liver!” he points in the direction of another, darker blotch. “Omo, look at the pretty little liver, Minjunggie!”
She bites her lower lip in response.
“Ma’am, how far along are you?” the technician asks after a few minutes of examination and Jonghyun's excited chatter.
“About twenty weeks,” Minjung answers, counting on her fingertips. “Yeah, twenty weeks and four days.”
“Hmm, it looks big for a fetus at twenty weeks.”
“I-is that bad?”
“Of course not! It means it’s healthy and growing really fast. But it might come a little before nine whole months, since it’ll get restless and cramped inside you. And… I suppose it gets your height,” she giggles, side-eyeing Jonghyun who pouts at the jibe. It only occurs to him much later in the day that neither he nor Minjung try to clarify that he isn’t the father.
"Would you like to know the sex of the baby?"
------
|2|
“What if I give it away?”
There is silence after the question. Minjung doesn’t repeat herself, because she knows Jonghyun has heard her. So has Jinki, who sits right in front of her with a bouquet in his hands and a stumped expression on his face. He’s too nice for a property broker.
“I…” he starts. There is a loud rustling as Jonghyun rushes to hear the entirety of that answer. But Jinki clamps up. He came here to tell them that the lease documents do not cover a baby clause; that the owner wouldn’t include one now out of goodwill and if Minjung decides to be a mother she has to look for another roof to cover her head. He isn’t sitting on that lumpy uncomfortable sofa to help them out, but then again.
“I think you should do what the father wants,” he tamely offers.
She smiles at his naïveté. “Oppa,” she says, because yes of course she is close to Jinki. He was the one who invited her to a party where she met Jonghyun. He was the one who introduced them and nudged their friendship along. He was the one who suggested they room together in this unforgiving city. Minjung thinks of Jinki as an elder brother who will protect her if need be… even if he isn’t acting like that right now.
“I’m asking you what I should do,” she reiterates.
“Will…” he attempts. “Will setting it up for adoption leave you in peace?”
Jonghyun scratches his nails on a door jamb. Minjung can tell he’s bursting to give his opinion on the matter but he’ll have his turn. Later. Right now he must only watch. She prefers if he only watches because he’s an outsider, after all. He’s just an onlooker in all of this; he doesn’t need to add his two cents to this exchange because she doesn't need to hear it.
“No,” she replies to Jinki in afterthought. “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t know.”
“Why won’t the father take responsibility?” he asks. It’s a surprising enquiry because Jinki has been Taemin's biggest critic ever since Minjung announced their relationship publically. While everyone in their friend circle is familiar and chummy with Taemin, they also know that he isn’t father material. Probably never will be. Jinki often goes one step further in claiming that he isn’t much boyfriend material, either.
“Why don’t you ask that asshole to man up for once in his sorry existence, eh? Hasn’t he hurt you enough?”
“Oppa, don’t be like that right now,” Minjung shakes her head.
“You knew perfectly well he isn’t good for you,” the other drives on, unrelenting. “He’s so involved in himself that he doesn’t have time for you. Never did! You knew it all along, but you still went ahead and let him make you like this,” he points an accusing finger at her belly. “And to what end?! Where is he now? What did getting knocked up solve?! He’s still missing, you’re still miserable, he’s probably out enjoying a drink with friends and your life is still in shambles.”
She doesn’t answer him because she has no answers to give. Guilt whirls around her swollen body. Having a baby had been her way of escaping what she could no longer bear. She’d taken it as a chance to bring Taemin closer to her; to buy has affection and to seal them tighter together. Of course, it hasn’t worked. And in a couple of months, when there is a wailing baby in her arms but no boyfriend by her side, she knows her mistake is going to cost her dearly.
In the corner of her sight Jonghyun timidly creeps towards them. “Hyung,” he begins with respect. Jinki lets out an audible sigh because he can probably tell what’s coming. So can she. Before they stop him or shut him up though, the words are out in the open. “You’re… you’re so close to Minjunggie. Could you not-uhm, I mean. Could you not help her in this case?”
“You want me to marry her?”
“Jjong, don’t be an idiot.”
“W-why?!” he retaliates, standing boldly but looking like a little child pouting for his rights to more candy. “Think about it! You’d be good together! I can totally see it!”
“Since when did you become a match-maker?!” Minjung shakes her head at him. She looks back to a slightly amused Jinki, thanks him for the flowers and the visit. “I have a cousin who lives in Gangbuk. She rents a flat with some friends near her university. Maybe she has a vacancy. But... we aren't close. We don't speak too often. And if she finds out about this, she might call home... I don't want that. So, I don’t know for sure. I need some time to talk to her. To consider it.”
He gets up to kneel before her and kiss her hands. “Then find out. Soon,” the man insists. “Because I would rather not see you homeless.”
------
|1|
“What if…” Jonghyun is eager to let it out but he’ll stay. He won’t make too much noise. She hates when he’s noisy.
“What if I help out a little longer than nine months?” he sets the table out, waiting for Minjung to ask what’s for dinner. She doesn’t, but there is a set of steel chopsticks in her hand that she might use in a very… unique and hurtful way if she isn’t fed soon. It’s written on her face.
She still allows a little “Meaning?” before he serves her and she wolfs it down. His own plate is still full when he tries again.
“I mean I’ve been reading some books. And… and I’ve been doing some thinking. I have some money saved up, you know,” he reveals, serving her with seconds. “And anyway weren’t you saying you want to move into a house closer to the city center? Like all the big actresses? Maybe I could speak with Jinki hyung tomorrow and find a place we could rent?” he says, then hurries to specify.
“Maybe-maybe I could be the dad?”
Minjung looks surprised for a minute with food stuffed in her mouth, but her laughter comes very naturally.
“Look, don’t give it away. Please?” he begs. She’s choking on her giggles. He hands her a glass of water in practiced actions. “You say you’ll set it up for adoption but after it’s born… after it’s a he or a she. Would you really want to give your baby away? Would you be able to live the rest of your life not knowing how it’s doing? How it’s living?” he asks softly.
The clasp of his fingers is sweaty. He takes her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, but it ends up feeling all clammy and gross instead. “Listen, just let me be there for you. I don’t want you to face this on your own. Please?”
She sobers up a little, but then her guffaws restart.
“What?!” he fights. “What? Why can’t I say that? Why do you have to laugh about it? Why can’t you just think about it once? Seriously?!” he scrapes his stool back and storms at her. “Are you really going to be a single mother?! Do you know what it’s like?! When people look at you and think horrible things! Call you horrible names! Do you know what your kid is going to have to hear about its own mom?!” he shouts. "Are you strong enough to live the rest of your life like that?!"
Minjung looks at him with a residue of amusement. He shakes in anger because she obviously isn’t taking him seriously… she never has. He rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with her and also with himself. “All I’m saying is, I want you to be happy. And I want you to be safe. If you allow me, I’ll try everything I can to let that happ-”
“And what?” she drawls. “You’ll marry me? A woman?”
Jonghyun considers that for a moment before he realizes he isn’t sure.
She chuckles, because she’s read the uncertainty on his face. “You’re right,” she admits. “I’ll need a father. Someone who’ll be the second pillar in this child’s life; I’ll need someone who will help my baby grow up to be normal, happy, uncomplicated,” she pats her stomach lovingly. “But I’ll also need a husband, Jjong,” she reminds him. “I’ll need someone who loves me, someone who will know how to carry me when I fall, someone who is mine and accepts me for his. Someone who’ll always be there no matter what.”
He stares at her and finds the saddest eyes behind her smile. “And you?" she asks. "How will you do that for me?”
------
|0|
Taemin is not a bad person, she thinks when he’s standing in the hallway and asking to be let in. She wishes she were dressed in something nicer and prettier than this awful gown they put on her. There are wet patches on her chest and sweaty blobs under her arms. She wishes someone had done her hair up or at least given her a barrette to clip up her fringe. A little make-up wouldn’t have hurt, either.
After all, this is the first time they’re meeting in a long time.
He slips against Jonghyun, who’s steadfastly blocking the door to their hospital room. Her contractions haven’t started yet but she’d been complaining about pains all morning. Jonghyun talked her into getting admitted. She’s grateful to him and the things he does for her, but he’s horribly boring company in a place like this. All he does is rock to and fro in worry or squeeze her hand till it turns purple. She welcomes the new addition to her vicinity, it's a pleasant change.
“Hey,” Taemin says, bringing attention back to himself. She smiles at him and he takes it as a signl to swoop in for a hug. “Aegi, hey…” he greets into the curve of her neck, nuzzling in there and stamping a kiss to the place. She feels warm and comforted in his hold. He’s always had that effect on her. “I was so worried, I came as fast as I could. How are you?” he asks, pecking her forehead and cheek repeatedly then looking at her with intense adoration.
“Oh, wow, you’re big!” he exclaims.
“Yeah,” she nods excitedly. Seeing him in front of her like this has put her on an unusual high.
The way he holds his lips to the back of her palm, the bumps of her knuckles, the dip of her wrist, the blush of her cheek-she feels butterflies come back to life within her. They flutter around, collide together and zip through her body as Taemin grins at her with that trademark mischief in his eyes. She has missed him more than she's willing to admit verbally. Having him beside her at a time like this makes her smile till her cheeks hurt.
“I brought you flowers,” he says, materializing them as if out of thin air. A shower of pink petals falls on her through the quick movement.
“Sakura…” Minjung sighs, fingering the tightly wound sprigs and feeling loftier than she has in months. Nine months, to be exact.
“They remind me of you, didn’t I say?” Taemin strokes her arm. “So! Tell me-when do I get to hold our little baby?”
“Our baby?” Jonghyun asks from the forgotten corner of their room. His tone is ridiculing. Minjung considers telling him to shut up because he’ll ruin the mood as always, but he’s already racing forward. “Our baby?!” he repeats. “Did you help her carry it? Did you have to go through all the pain and discomfort? Did you even care to check up on it? Were you there for the sonography? What have you done to call this baby yours?” he demands.
The other man frowns. “Who’re you?”
“That’s not important,” Jonghyun shakes his head. “What’s important is who are you? And who will you be once this kid is out in the world? Will you be its dad? Will you be there for its future? Will you see it grow up in front of your eyes? Will you help raise it? Will you let it be what it wants to be without enforcing stupid rules on its little head?” he scoffs. “What am I saying...? Will you even be here for the delivery?!”
There is a sheepish look on Taemin’s face at that. Minjung frowns. “Y-you’re staying, right?” she confirms. He doesn’t meet her questioning gaze. "T-Tae yah... you're going to be here, aren't you?"
“The fact is you’re not staying,” Jonghyun continues his rant. “Not now, and not later either. You came here to clear your conscience. You came here to check if the mother of your child is alive and well without you. And now that you’ve seen she’s OK you’re going to disappear again. Because that’s what you are. You’re an absent father.” He wipes a hand across his cheek but the hate in his eyes spills crystal clear.
Minjung stares, completely dumbstruck by his sudden outburst. "Jjong, be quiet..." she hushes. She wants to slap him across the face for yelling like that in a maternity wing, where no doubt a lot of cranky to-be-mothers are hoping for some peace and quiet. But all she’s capable of is lying there, under the weight of her agitated child and Taemin’s perplexed scowl.
“You know,” Jonghyun lets out a derisive laugh, heedless of her. “I’ve heard a lot of insults in my life for what I am-you’re not normal, you’re not a complete man, they said. I used to feel like trash when I heard those sorts of things. I used to feel like absolute filth. But you know what?" he glowers. "Now that I see you, I don’t want to be a complete man. I don't want to be like you. I am weak, I am pathetic, I'm a loser, but I will not be like you!” he shouts, backing away till he walks into a wall.
“Aegi, who is this rude bastard?” Taemin demands through grit teeth. "We need to have him removed from here, right now!"
A nurse enters with some charts just then. “Hi, sorry to bother you guys but there’s some forms that need to be filled before she goes into labor. May I ask who’s the father?” she inquires.
Minjung doesn’t even think before her finger points at Jonghyun. He looks as stunned as she feels.
------
A/N: the poem isn't mine, it's a rough translation of Ranjish Hi Sahi by Ahmed Faraz
Author: quagmireisadora
Pairing: Minjung/Jonghyun
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 6861
|9|
Minjung walks in looking like a soldier returned from war.
Jonghyun sits her down and offers her a glass of water. She accepts but doesn’t touch it to her lips. Not once in the fifteen minutes they spend in silence. Relative silence at least, since his phone is buzzing and vibrating madly with Kibum’s incessant messages of where are you or what are you doing.
Jonghyun isn’t sure if he should pry. It isn’t his place to; they’ve only known each other for a little over a year. But there she sits with her glass and her heart in a pair of oddly steady hands. There she sits, waiting to be blown off to a side with the tiniest utterance of sympathy. It’s happened in the past... she suddenly bubbled over at practically nothing and didn’t stop until late into the night.
He isn’t sure what to do for her but the last thing he wants is a bawling room-mate. He isn’t sure what to do with himself but he can’t dawdle around anymore. “Minjunggie,” he starts and then stops, waiting for her to catch hold of the other side of the rope; tug back.
“He said to get an abortion,” she finally reveals to her lap. Her face is a mosaic of confusion and defeat. It’s a seriously pitiful sight. “Said he isn’t ready to be a father,” she adds, dimly placing the water away from herself.
It really is easy to stain a white cloth, Jonghyun thinks then. And he watches Minjung much like he’d watch the fading brushstrokes of a watery painting-the tint too weak, the paper too thick, the shapes too blotted to make anything out with certainty. He tempers his detachment to a concentrated point and carefully kneels before his roommate.
“Listen…” he begins, and hopes the subsequent words will flow out of him smoother than that. They don’t. “I-I have to go now, you know how apoplectic Bummie gets when I’m late for a date. But listen...” he tries once again. “I’ll be back soon. Until then, please try not to.” Jonghyun thinks on the rest of his request. He doesn’t know if it is an intelligent thing to convey. He wants to console the poor woman but with his sight repeatedly straying to the clock, he knows now is not the time. He’s getting late.
“Just. Please be here when I’m back, OK? We’ll work it out together, I promise.”
Minjung looks at him like someone peering through a thick fog. Her fringe patchily covers her forehead, her eyes are gradually dissolving as he stares; the shadow of her nose is wet with oncoming emotion. She rests a palm on the top of his head and strokes it with a thumb. He wants to say more helpful things, be of more use than just an armrest. But that’s the end of their conversation as she quietly gets up and walks away to the privacy of her room, the door clicking shut decisively.
Jonghyun finally answers his wild phone. “Yes, yes, I’m on my way!”
------
|8|
Jonghyun walks in looking broken beyond repair.
“W-what…?!” Minjung begins her query, but he collapses halfway into the threshold. “Oh my g-Jjong!” she jolts, clutching at him with worry. “What happened to you? What-?! What the hell happened to you?!” Frankly, she has no time for this outburst. Her mouth still tastes of last night’s dinner and this morning’s tea. All she wants is to rest; be left alone to her thoughts. She doesn’t need Jonghyun or his drama.
Regardless, she can’t leave him on the floor like this. She crouches even as another wave of morning sickness rises then abates within her gut. “Jjong, what happened?” she inquires gently, swabbing his cheeks dry with the end of her shirt. “Are you hurting somewhere? Did someone upset you? Jonghyun… what’s wrong, tell me.”
“I didn’t think…” he shakes his head in drunken response. She is awfully repulsed from the stench, but still straightens him to lean against a wall instead of the front door. The flat opposite theirs opens. A little boy peeks out his head with curiosity until his mother ushers him back inside. Minjung shuts their apartment door and hears the lock beep before Jonghyun resumes his plaintive account.
“I didn’t think this would happen,” he swats her away through a heavy sob, his body drooping towards the floor. “I didn’t think he would sit before me one day… and not be mine.” His tears drip onto the carpet and stain it a deeper shade.
A lovers’ tiff, Minjung purses her lips. Her morning is being sullied by a lovers’ tiff. She can’t believe it. “OK,” she nods despite her antipathy. “OK, OK, come on, get up. Stand up.” She loops his lazy arm around the back of her neck and supports him even through her own stints of swooning. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she orders, dragging him all the way to his bathroom where she carefully plops him into the tub.
He allows her to undress him, clean him, quiet his lamentations; lets the water turn cold and yank him back to sobriety. As fistfuls splash him in the chest and face, Jonghyun cries like a little boy would to his mother when he tells her about the schoolyard bullies. Minjung listens to him. She hears out the broken-hearted account of Kibum, the boyfriend who is now an ex-boyfriend, being a cheat.
“I didn’t think he’d only picked me up to throw me away…” Jonghyun shivers, sinking deeper into the water. “All I wanted-all I wanted was for him to never let me go. I didn’t th-think I’d ever be nothing to him.”
“Hush,” Minjung pulls his quaking head to herself. “Shh, now, don’t cry. Don’t cry for someone who won’t cry for you,” she lends her advice, wishing the other were clear-headed enough to understand. He only continues to gurgle and wallow until she unplugs the tub to let it drain.
Trembling from the cold, he reaches out for her to carry him. Minjung frowns: he isn’t her responsibility but he is clearly in no condition to get a hold of his self. She caves in, pulling him upright with effort. Cosseted and clothed in something softer, she tucks him into bed hoping he falls asleep immediately. It would give her some peace and quiet for once in this entire wretched morning.
“I didn’t think…” he mutters at the cusp of slumber.
“Yeah,” Minjung replies to his snoring form. “You didn’t.”
------
|7|
The smell of something acrid prods him up and off the sofa. He doesn’t want to leave the safety of warm upholstery or the blanket fort he’s built around himself. But as much as he wouldn’t care if the apartment scorches away… the landlord would.
He finds Minjung in the balcony, burning a pile of something. He can take a wild guess at what that pile is. Or was: the fire has been going for quite some time now. Charred edges of photoshoots and a modeling portfolio quickly liquefy then vanish into thin air. The phone’s been ringing off the hook all week, too. Taemin, who is the father that doesn’t in fact want to be a father, calls unremittingly. But Minjung has stopped answering. She doesn’t seem very intent on getting back together with the man.
Jonghyun can’t blame her.
“What’re you doing?” he asks in his hoarse voice. He hasn’t used it in a long while except to weep into his pillow and leave messages on Kibum’s phone.
“Letting go,” Minjung cleanly answers. She looks furious enough to forge a broken blade so he doesn’t expect her to extrapolate, but he still sticks around. As an afterthought, he slides the balcony door shut behind him. When she raises her eyebrows he shrugs in the direction of the smoke alarms. She affords him a transient smile.
“What will you do now?” Jonghyun genuinely wants to know... perhaps because her answer might lead him to the reset button on his own life. He spares a thought to that-the fact that they’re both trodden over and beaten down with nothing to help them stand back up. No railings in sight, no hands extended out to help. They’re both on the ground with no strength to go on. “What will you do?” he repeats when she doesn’t seem to have heard his meek tone.
“I’ll be a mother,” is the first thing she tells him, then looks down at her abdomen which is slowly bloating up with another living being. “I’ll be what I’m supposed to be for this one. I think it’s important.”
Even with his own troubles pressing down on him, he’s been studying her grow. As odd as it sounds to think it, the air around her seems to mist with signs of another presence. To be sure, she has had a lot of time to take contraceptives, or even go to a nearby clinic. She has had plenty of time to reassess the consequence this will have on her life; she’s had time to piece everything together and think this through.
Still…
“How will you do it alone?” he shakes his head, knowing the arduous life of a single parent, having seen it first-hand while growing up. “It’s not that easy, you know? With this the agency won’t call you back. Not for another year, until you can hire a sitter. How will you raise it? How will you keep it off the streets? What will you do?”
“You’re asking me like you have your own life figured out,” she spits. It is venom: badly concocted venom that burns on his skin.
He doesn’t want to be reminded of it, but now that his eyes have landed back on the tiny puffs of smoke he can’t look away. Minjung may have easily reduced her past and her worries to ashes with the flick of a match. Jonghyun, though, has his past branded in the very cells of his body. What does he do to make it go away?
What should he do to make himself more bearable?
------
|6|
He hangs off the balcony rails too often.
“What do you look for in all that traffic?” Minjung joins him one calm afternoon when her moods aren't swinging like mad pendulums. There was a time when she liked that they were both home for once. There was a time when she liked spending quiet evenings watching crap television with her sweet room-mate. But it saddens her now... the fact that they are both always home. It upsets her that Jonghyun, who once managed to write over eight pages every day, hasn’t scribbled out a single line in over three months. It’s very telling of the predicament they’ve both landed themselves in.
“What’re you thinking about?” she asks.
“How hard it’d hurt. You know, to touch the asphalt…”
Minjung feels rage pillow her forward, oscillating high and hard like a wrecking ball preparing to crack her open. Her blood boils, her hormones seethe. And in a manner very uncharacteristic of her usual self, she kicks a chair out of the way without care for where it lands or what it crashes into. “Get up,” she orders.
“Wh-what? Why-?!”
She yanks him back and slaps his face hard. The shock on Jonghyun's reddening features gives her immense satisfaction. She slaps him again for good measure, and then glares with all her might. “Think of your mother!” she shakes him by the collar, gesturing to his shameful appearance as an added insult: he really has let himself go in the weeks since his break-up. His cheeks are always unshaven, his hair is permanently unkempt. He looks disheveled and bedraggled no matter what time of day it be. It annoys the hell out of Minjung for a reason she doesn't fully comprehend yet.
“Think of what you’re leaving behind for others to scrape up! Do you really want to do that, you ingrate?!” she scolds. She knows that’s not the point, that’s not what she’s supposed to be saying. She knows that she should be spouting wisdom; handing out advice and encouragement at a time like this. She knows that the poor man is in a fragile state of mind right now. But she doesn’t think, just hits him again.
Jonghyun warbles an unintelligible reply from behind a shield of his arms before breaking into tears. Minjung clicks her tongue pityingly, pulls him to her front and holds him there until he quiets down. Truth be told, she has no obligation towards him-a grown man who should frankly be taking charge of his life. But she feels an undeniable need, a deep necessity to help him; to offer him her shoulder if only just for a while.
He’s been drinking a lot lately, in addition to keeping foul company that only retrogresses his recovery instead of speeding it up. He’s been bringing over odd men that stay for a few hours of gratification and then leave before sunrise. What's more, he hangs out at the sort of places the desperate and the perverse are known to frequent, a new face tugging on his clothes every night.
At first she let it slide, thinking it was his way of coping. But she can tell it only makes him worse. With every stranger walking in and out of their apartment, Jonghyun slowly crumbles to disrepair.
“Sit,” she instructs once they’re back indoors. He obediently slumps onto a stool at the kitchen island. She slides a plate of food before him. “Eat,” Minjung orders once more, then growls in her throat when he makes a face and tries to slide it back to her.
His sniffling dies after a long series of minutes spent in wait. Jonghyun wipes his face on the back of his wrist and apologizes. It’s a first; it takes her back. She wasn’t expecting him to act responsibly in the aftermath of such childish behavior. Minjung smiles at him. “It’s OK,” she nods.
But her tantrum is pitching back on her now with a vengeance. Her breath comes out shorter and her heart begins to scald. The herbs steeped in hot water haven’t been helping. The bath salts suggested by a popular women’s magazine just itch her skin. She feels woozy, clutches her head and reaches out for something to support her dizzy weight. Hell, she thinks as her balance starts to falter.
As black spots begin to color her vision, Jonghyun takes hold of her by the waist, leading her to another stool. “Won’t you eat anything?” he asks with gentle concern.
She cringes at the very thought of food.
“That… won’t do, you know?” he reasons. It takes a while for his face to stop swimming around her sights. When finally clear, she scowls at how it is filled to the brim with intense disquiet. “You need to eat more for the baby. You should be eating for two. More than two, in fact.”
“I will…” she assures, trying to catch her breath. “Later.”
------
|5|
“It’s… moving.” Minjung doesn’t look sure of it at first but when she feels her insides roll again she says it with more certainty. “It’s moving!” She circles the growing bulge of her stomach, looking at it with distrust. Jonghyun can’t help but smile at her. “It’s moving, Jjong!” she insists, louder this time and beckoning him forward.
He reaches out. “It’s kicking,” he tells her. “That’s what it’s supposed to d-oh!” he exclaims as he feels a particularly hard shove into his palm. He stares at the spot with wonder, kneeling in front of her and putting his ear to the growing baby. “Yah… it’s your samchoon," he informs in a silly voice. "If you can hear me, give me a sign. W-whoa! It can hear me!” he holds a hand to his kicked cheek and looks up at Minjung, who doesn’t appear very comforted by the fact that something is jostling within her.
“It’s trying to rearrange my intestines…” she complains.
“What? Haha…!” Jonghyun laughs at her, but he knows this pregnancy business is actually a pain. He knows because the baby doesn’t let Minjung sleep, restlessly lurching around in the womb. The only time he’s seen her at peace is when she’s pacing across the living room and even that tires her too soon. He accompanies her through her early yoga program in the mornings but she can’t stand for extended periods. Her legs swell from the weight. She has to use the bathroom too often, she craves sour food at the oddest of times, and she knocks things around without meaning to.
It frustrates her, he sees it in the stress that has suddenly made home on her face.
So he tries to help out-cooks her healthy food from recipes his noona texted him when she heard the news; buys her fresh fruits and vegetables after consulting a prenatal guide online, adds nuts and syrups to her milk when she isn’t looking. He cleans up after her, washes her soiled sheets, scrubs her bathroom, does laundry runs, vacuums daily, and generally makes sure she has a sterile environment to rest in. He screens all the caffeinated and carbonated drinks under the kitchen sink where their bottles of wine are currently hiding. And when the neighbor brings out his nightly cigarettes in the adjoining balcony, Jonghyun knocks on the man’s door until he lets out a curse and stops.
He does whatever he thinks might help, because it makes him feel useful. It gives him a purpose; it distracts him from everything lacking in his insipid life.
Minjung groans and puts her feet up on their coffee table. “I feel… feel like a container. Like a box stuffed with living breathing mush.” Jonghyun brings her a glass of cold water, which she gulps down and then begs him to fetch her more. The heat isn’t making matters easier. He thinks of bringing out the old guitar and singing a lullaby, but she’s thrown him out of the house for it in the past.
So he just makes idle talk instead. “Well, technically, it’s not breathing yet. Just using its gills.”
“Oh, great! I have a humanoid fish wreaking havoc inside me!”
Jonghyun gives up on conversation, too, at that point. He slides the TV remote towards her but she looks at it like a mongoose would a snake. He nervously chuckles and shifts away from her in case a random shower of punches starts to rain on him for no apparent reason.
“Ugh, I just realized. I’m never going to be alone ever again…” Minjung pouts childishly. “This thing will have to be carried around for a year and a half at least until I set it on the ground to be by itself. And even then it’ll still need me. How horrible…”
“At least,” Jonghyun says. “At least you won't be lonely then…”
She acts like she doesn’t hear him.
------
|4|
“I wrote something,” Jonghyun comes to her one afternoon. Minjung wants to wave him away with a reprimand but she can see hints of frightened expectation on his face. If she spurns him now she’ll never hear his voice again, she knows this. It’s a fragile balance that she often tips to the wrong side without a care, but this time she wants to do it right.
“OK,” she replies, sitting up from her bed and wincing a little at the effort. “Let’s go to the park. You can read it to me there.”
Being outdoors feels like a cycle of cleansing. She is… lighter, happier. Her lungs fill to their greatest capacity, her bones move like well-oiled machinery, her blood rushes to its optimum speed. Her body is no longer disgusting and rotund with its purple bruises and its stretched skin. She feels good about herself in a long while, despite the questioning looks she gets from some women-ever since the daily soap started gathering good TV ratings, Choi Minjung became a fairly popular face amongst the housewives of Seoul.
Jonghyun opts for the first bench they come across. She settles down beside him with a content sigh and a tranquil smile playing on her face. “Go on then,” she encourages. “What’ve you written?”
He takes a deep breath as if he’s about to start reciting but then blinks hesitantly. “I’m… I was supposed to write a lot more but I mean, it’s not complete yet,” he stutters. “Cause, you know, I don’t know how to end it right now.” Minjung starts to scold him for beating around the bush so he holds up a hand and apologizes. “OK, OK, sorry! I’ll… I’ll tell you. Just,” he pauses. “Please be kind.”
She doesn’t always understand his work; it’s either too deep for her to comprehend or too emotional to hear through the end. She has tried reading his entries in the corner of their newspaper, along the section where nobody looks except by accident. The meaning of his couplets slips out of her grasp even after re-reading a dozen times. Minjung often wonders if this is the reason he isn’t popular yet. But today she slaps his back in a cheer. “Start.”
He twiddles his thumbs on his lap. His expression is shy, unlike the Jonghyun who’d natter away without so much as a thought in reflection. That brash and thoughtless man has disappeared, replaced by someone softer and meeker. Someone quieter and less self-possessed than the Jonghyun Minjung had first met years ago at a party. She frowns at what Kibum has done with him to make him so timid now; so insecure that he can’t even look himself in the eye when he passes by a mirror.
Again, she nods for him to go on and after a few moments he does.
“You hurt me once before…
Come hurt me once again.
You left me once before,
Come leave me once again.
“How many should I share our story with?
If I displease, come hear the story again.
You hurt me once before,
Come hurt me once again.
“You said hiding love is also a way to love.
So hide me away, never let me out again.
You hurt me once before,
Come hurt me once again.
“The way you make excuses to not meet,
Make another excuse so we meet again.”
You hurt me once before,
Come hurt me once again.”
“There was a kindness you kept aside for me.
Turn around, show me that kindness again.
You hurt me once before,
Come hurt me once again.
You left me once before.
Come leave me once again.”
Minjung doesn’t want to touch him, thinking it will scare him away. Instead, she watches as he quietly finishes his poem and then closes his eyes… like someone finally emptied of everything choking them shut for years.
------
|3|
They remain silent through the bus ride and the train ride. She throws nervous glances at him which he catches with obnoxiously wide grins. “Don’t worry,” he assures as their station approaches. “It’s not going to hurt or anything. It’ll just be like taking an x-ray, that’s all. We can check how the baby’s doing, if it needs something else, maybe find out if there’s more than one you’re carrying in that huge bag of yours,” he lightly pokes her side.
She doesn’t seem convinced. “W-what if this one doesn’t stay still enough for them to take a picture?” Minjung worries, eyes at her stomach. “O-or what if they don’t find a baby in there at all but… but just hot air…? When if it’s abnormal or it has four arms, or two heads, or-”
“Pssht,” he squeezes her hand. A phone is pressed between their palms but he radiates all the warmth he can in spite of it. “You’re worrying over nothing. I’m sure it’ll be a healthy little-ah!” he suddenly turns to her, remembering a question he’s been dying to ask for weeks. “What do you think it’ll be? A boy or a girl?”
Minjung remains silent as the train pulls to a halt and they walk out onto the platform. He doesn’t want to rush her, but right outside the clinic she pulls back on his arm with concern. “I hope it’s a boy...” she confesses. He raises his eyebrows at that because she is the last person he would expect to hear something like that from. “I mean, I used to wish it was, at one time. Because they have it easier, don’t they?” she explains. “But then I look at you,” she says and Jonghyun lets out a heavy breath.
Minjung hangs her head, stroking over her front. “I'll let it be whatever it wants to be.”
The obstetrician explains to them about sound waves and red blood cells and gestational diabetes. “It’s like a tiny whale using sonar. Trying to find out what’s ahead of itself, you know?” she smiles and rubs a bluish cold gel onto Minjung’s stomach, telling her to relax. “Just watch the monitor,” she suggests to both of them as she glides an ultrasound transducer around the bulge.
Jonghyun gasps at the grey blotch of a heartbeat pounding in the center of the tiny screen. “Is… is that?!” he begins and when he gets a confirming nod, he skips a little in his seat. “Minjunggie!” he tugs at the sleeve of her gown. “Look at it! Look at its cute little heart! And… and liver!” he points in the direction of another, darker blotch. “Omo, look at the pretty little liver, Minjunggie!”
She bites her lower lip in response.
“Ma’am, how far along are you?” the technician asks after a few minutes of examination and Jonghyun's excited chatter.
“About twenty weeks,” Minjung answers, counting on her fingertips. “Yeah, twenty weeks and four days.”
“Hmm, it looks big for a fetus at twenty weeks.”
“I-is that bad?”
“Of course not! It means it’s healthy and growing really fast. But it might come a little before nine whole months, since it’ll get restless and cramped inside you. And… I suppose it gets your height,” she giggles, side-eyeing Jonghyun who pouts at the jibe. It only occurs to him much later in the day that neither he nor Minjung try to clarify that he isn’t the father.
"Would you like to know the sex of the baby?"
------
|2|
“What if I give it away?”
There is silence after the question. Minjung doesn’t repeat herself, because she knows Jonghyun has heard her. So has Jinki, who sits right in front of her with a bouquet in his hands and a stumped expression on his face. He’s too nice for a property broker.
“I…” he starts. There is a loud rustling as Jonghyun rushes to hear the entirety of that answer. But Jinki clamps up. He came here to tell them that the lease documents do not cover a baby clause; that the owner wouldn’t include one now out of goodwill and if Minjung decides to be a mother she has to look for another roof to cover her head. He isn’t sitting on that lumpy uncomfortable sofa to help them out, but then again.
“I think you should do what the father wants,” he tamely offers.
She smiles at his naïveté. “Oppa,” she says, because yes of course she is close to Jinki. He was the one who invited her to a party where she met Jonghyun. He was the one who introduced them and nudged their friendship along. He was the one who suggested they room together in this unforgiving city. Minjung thinks of Jinki as an elder brother who will protect her if need be… even if he isn’t acting like that right now.
“I’m asking you what I should do,” she reiterates.
“Will…” he attempts. “Will setting it up for adoption leave you in peace?”
Jonghyun scratches his nails on a door jamb. Minjung can tell he’s bursting to give his opinion on the matter but he’ll have his turn. Later. Right now he must only watch. She prefers if he only watches because he’s an outsider, after all. He’s just an onlooker in all of this; he doesn’t need to add his two cents to this exchange because she doesn't need to hear it.
“No,” she replies to Jinki in afterthought. “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t know.”
“Why won’t the father take responsibility?” he asks. It’s a surprising enquiry because Jinki has been Taemin's biggest critic ever since Minjung announced their relationship publically. While everyone in their friend circle is familiar and chummy with Taemin, they also know that he isn’t father material. Probably never will be. Jinki often goes one step further in claiming that he isn’t much boyfriend material, either.
“Why don’t you ask that asshole to man up for once in his sorry existence, eh? Hasn’t he hurt you enough?”
“Oppa, don’t be like that right now,” Minjung shakes her head.
“You knew perfectly well he isn’t good for you,” the other drives on, unrelenting. “He’s so involved in himself that he doesn’t have time for you. Never did! You knew it all along, but you still went ahead and let him make you like this,” he points an accusing finger at her belly. “And to what end?! Where is he now? What did getting knocked up solve?! He’s still missing, you’re still miserable, he’s probably out enjoying a drink with friends and your life is still in shambles.”
She doesn’t answer him because she has no answers to give. Guilt whirls around her swollen body. Having a baby had been her way of escaping what she could no longer bear. She’d taken it as a chance to bring Taemin closer to her; to buy has affection and to seal them tighter together. Of course, it hasn’t worked. And in a couple of months, when there is a wailing baby in her arms but no boyfriend by her side, she knows her mistake is going to cost her dearly.
In the corner of her sight Jonghyun timidly creeps towards them. “Hyung,” he begins with respect. Jinki lets out an audible sigh because he can probably tell what’s coming. So can she. Before they stop him or shut him up though, the words are out in the open. “You’re… you’re so close to Minjunggie. Could you not-uhm, I mean. Could you not help her in this case?”
“You want me to marry her?”
“Jjong, don’t be an idiot.”
“W-why?!” he retaliates, standing boldly but looking like a little child pouting for his rights to more candy. “Think about it! You’d be good together! I can totally see it!”
“Since when did you become a match-maker?!” Minjung shakes her head at him. She looks back to a slightly amused Jinki, thanks him for the flowers and the visit. “I have a cousin who lives in Gangbuk. She rents a flat with some friends near her university. Maybe she has a vacancy. But... we aren't close. We don't speak too often. And if she finds out about this, she might call home... I don't want that. So, I don’t know for sure. I need some time to talk to her. To consider it.”
He gets up to kneel before her and kiss her hands. “Then find out. Soon,” the man insists. “Because I would rather not see you homeless.”
------
|1|
“What if…” Jonghyun is eager to let it out but he’ll stay. He won’t make too much noise. She hates when he’s noisy.
“What if I help out a little longer than nine months?” he sets the table out, waiting for Minjung to ask what’s for dinner. She doesn’t, but there is a set of steel chopsticks in her hand that she might use in a very… unique and hurtful way if she isn’t fed soon. It’s written on her face.
She still allows a little “Meaning?” before he serves her and she wolfs it down. His own plate is still full when he tries again.
“I mean I’ve been reading some books. And… and I’ve been doing some thinking. I have some money saved up, you know,” he reveals, serving her with seconds. “And anyway weren’t you saying you want to move into a house closer to the city center? Like all the big actresses? Maybe I could speak with Jinki hyung tomorrow and find a place we could rent?” he says, then hurries to specify.
“Maybe-maybe I could be the dad?”
Minjung looks surprised for a minute with food stuffed in her mouth, but her laughter comes very naturally.
“Look, don’t give it away. Please?” he begs. She’s choking on her giggles. He hands her a glass of water in practiced actions. “You say you’ll set it up for adoption but after it’s born… after it’s a he or a she. Would you really want to give your baby away? Would you be able to live the rest of your life not knowing how it’s doing? How it’s living?” he asks softly.
The clasp of his fingers is sweaty. He takes her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, but it ends up feeling all clammy and gross instead. “Listen, just let me be there for you. I don’t want you to face this on your own. Please?”
She sobers up a little, but then her guffaws restart.
“What?!” he fights. “What? Why can’t I say that? Why do you have to laugh about it? Why can’t you just think about it once? Seriously?!” he scrapes his stool back and storms at her. “Are you really going to be a single mother?! Do you know what it’s like?! When people look at you and think horrible things! Call you horrible names! Do you know what your kid is going to have to hear about its own mom?!” he shouts. "Are you strong enough to live the rest of your life like that?!"
Minjung looks at him with a residue of amusement. He shakes in anger because she obviously isn’t taking him seriously… she never has. He rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with her and also with himself. “All I’m saying is, I want you to be happy. And I want you to be safe. If you allow me, I’ll try everything I can to let that happ-”
“And what?” she drawls. “You’ll marry me? A woman?”
Jonghyun considers that for a moment before he realizes he isn’t sure.
She chuckles, because she’s read the uncertainty on his face. “You’re right,” she admits. “I’ll need a father. Someone who’ll be the second pillar in this child’s life; I’ll need someone who will help my baby grow up to be normal, happy, uncomplicated,” she pats her stomach lovingly. “But I’ll also need a husband, Jjong,” she reminds him. “I’ll need someone who loves me, someone who will know how to carry me when I fall, someone who is mine and accepts me for his. Someone who’ll always be there no matter what.”
He stares at her and finds the saddest eyes behind her smile. “And you?" she asks. "How will you do that for me?”
------
|0|
Taemin is not a bad person, she thinks when he’s standing in the hallway and asking to be let in. She wishes she were dressed in something nicer and prettier than this awful gown they put on her. There are wet patches on her chest and sweaty blobs under her arms. She wishes someone had done her hair up or at least given her a barrette to clip up her fringe. A little make-up wouldn’t have hurt, either.
After all, this is the first time they’re meeting in a long time.
He slips against Jonghyun, who’s steadfastly blocking the door to their hospital room. Her contractions haven’t started yet but she’d been complaining about pains all morning. Jonghyun talked her into getting admitted. She’s grateful to him and the things he does for her, but he’s horribly boring company in a place like this. All he does is rock to and fro in worry or squeeze her hand till it turns purple. She welcomes the new addition to her vicinity, it's a pleasant change.
“Hey,” Taemin says, bringing attention back to himself. She smiles at him and he takes it as a signl to swoop in for a hug. “Aegi, hey…” he greets into the curve of her neck, nuzzling in there and stamping a kiss to the place. She feels warm and comforted in his hold. He’s always had that effect on her. “I was so worried, I came as fast as I could. How are you?” he asks, pecking her forehead and cheek repeatedly then looking at her with intense adoration.
“Oh, wow, you’re big!” he exclaims.
“Yeah,” she nods excitedly. Seeing him in front of her like this has put her on an unusual high.
The way he holds his lips to the back of her palm, the bumps of her knuckles, the dip of her wrist, the blush of her cheek-she feels butterflies come back to life within her. They flutter around, collide together and zip through her body as Taemin grins at her with that trademark mischief in his eyes. She has missed him more than she's willing to admit verbally. Having him beside her at a time like this makes her smile till her cheeks hurt.
“I brought you flowers,” he says, materializing them as if out of thin air. A shower of pink petals falls on her through the quick movement.
“Sakura…” Minjung sighs, fingering the tightly wound sprigs and feeling loftier than she has in months. Nine months, to be exact.
“They remind me of you, didn’t I say?” Taemin strokes her arm. “So! Tell me-when do I get to hold our little baby?”
“Our baby?” Jonghyun asks from the forgotten corner of their room. His tone is ridiculing. Minjung considers telling him to shut up because he’ll ruin the mood as always, but he’s already racing forward. “Our baby?!” he repeats. “Did you help her carry it? Did you have to go through all the pain and discomfort? Did you even care to check up on it? Were you there for the sonography? What have you done to call this baby yours?” he demands.
The other man frowns. “Who’re you?”
“That’s not important,” Jonghyun shakes his head. “What’s important is who are you? And who will you be once this kid is out in the world? Will you be its dad? Will you be there for its future? Will you see it grow up in front of your eyes? Will you help raise it? Will you let it be what it wants to be without enforcing stupid rules on its little head?” he scoffs. “What am I saying...? Will you even be here for the delivery?!”
There is a sheepish look on Taemin’s face at that. Minjung frowns. “Y-you’re staying, right?” she confirms. He doesn’t meet her questioning gaze. "T-Tae yah... you're going to be here, aren't you?"
“The fact is you’re not staying,” Jonghyun continues his rant. “Not now, and not later either. You came here to clear your conscience. You came here to check if the mother of your child is alive and well without you. And now that you’ve seen she’s OK you’re going to disappear again. Because that’s what you are. You’re an absent father.” He wipes a hand across his cheek but the hate in his eyes spills crystal clear.
Minjung stares, completely dumbstruck by his sudden outburst. "Jjong, be quiet..." she hushes. She wants to slap him across the face for yelling like that in a maternity wing, where no doubt a lot of cranky to-be-mothers are hoping for some peace and quiet. But all she’s capable of is lying there, under the weight of her agitated child and Taemin’s perplexed scowl.
“You know,” Jonghyun lets out a derisive laugh, heedless of her. “I’ve heard a lot of insults in my life for what I am-you’re not normal, you’re not a complete man, they said. I used to feel like trash when I heard those sorts of things. I used to feel like absolute filth. But you know what?" he glowers. "Now that I see you, I don’t want to be a complete man. I don't want to be like you. I am weak, I am pathetic, I'm a loser, but I will not be like you!” he shouts, backing away till he walks into a wall.
“Aegi, who is this rude bastard?” Taemin demands through grit teeth. "We need to have him removed from here, right now!"
A nurse enters with some charts just then. “Hi, sorry to bother you guys but there’s some forms that need to be filled before she goes into labor. May I ask who’s the father?” she inquires.
Minjung doesn’t even think before her finger points at Jonghyun. He looks as stunned as she feels.
------
A/N: the poem isn't mine, it's a rough translation of Ranjish Hi Sahi by Ahmed Faraz