It's Okay to be You
Title: It's Okay to be You
Pairing: 2min
Rating: PG-13 (just to be safe ^^)
Prompt: "We're frightened of what makes us different" & the picture prompt
Summary: It hurts to lie to someone when all you want to do is tell them the truth. Taemin knows that better than anybody.
A/N: Hi guys ^^ I wrote this for the 019 challenge at shawol_haven hope you guys like it~
It’s so easy to sit in front of my computer with my phone and iPod and pretend to be someone that I’m not. To him, I’m a dancer from the USA that came to Korea to try and become an idol. But that’s not true. He thinks I was popular and had a lot of friends and that they were all rooting for me. That’s not true either. He thinks I had to leave my girlfriend behind, but that’s definitely not true. If only he knew, then he’d know that yes, I’m a dancer, but no, I didn’t come to Korea to audition at an entertainment company. I came to Korea because I was picked on and bullied and got beat up one too many times. I came to escape. He’d know that I actually didn’t have that many friends because everyone thought of me as the “weird Asian kid that always danced in the hallways” and the only thing they were rooting for was me leaving. He’d know that I’ve never had a girlfriend, nor will I ever because I’m gay. He’d know I like guys, and then he’d stop talking to me.
There are a lot of things I lied to him about. I told him I liked sushi when I really actually hate it. He thinks I’ve always danced hip hop but I when I first started dancing, I danced ballet. He doesn’t know that I sleep with a bright yellow chick stuffed animal and that I’ve slept with it since I was nine. He thinks that my long hair is long and straightened because I want to make a good impression on the entertainment companies when really it’s long because I like it that way. I feel pretty that way. He thinks I’m confident and brave and thinks that I love dogs when I’m actually terrified of them.
I never realized how easy it was to pretend to be someone you’re not when it’s online. He and I met on a language exchange website. He was there because he wants to learn more English. I was there hoping to make a friend I could spend time with while in Korea so that I didn’t feel completely alone. But, I feel lonely anyways. He doesn’t know the real me, so how can I become his friend? He’s friends with the fake Taemin. He hasn’t even met the real Taemin. He doesn’t know that I’m afraid of the dark or that I used to do my mom’s makeup for fun when we stayed in on Fridays instead of going out to dinner or to the bowling alley or norebang. He certainly doesn’t know that I think he’s the most beautiful man to walk the planet.
He really is. Choi Minho is a God. When we webcam, I have to fight the blush on my cheeks, or at least adjust the settings so that it doesn’t show. He’s tall and built and has a handsome face with big, round eyes and a strong jaw. His hair is cut short and when he runs his hands through it it shoots out in every direction and looks like he just woke up from a nap. One time, he wanted to compare abs, and I thought my nose might bleed when he lifted up his shirt. Thankfully, my mom called me to dinner, so I escaped having to show him my scrawny stomach. He’d really get a kick out of that.
He plays soccer and he’s the class president at his school. He’s an A+ student and he’s never missed a day of school in his entire life. He has an older brother and they’re both very competitive, always trying out for sports teams and always making them, and then battling it out to see which sibling would come out victorious over the other. He told me that when he wins, he makes his brother do his chores, and when his brother wins, he makes Minho give him money. I like that Minho doesn’t try to take his brother’s hard earned money. It makes me feel like he’s truly a good person, and he probably is. He’s a better person than I am. Sometimes I feel like I’ll ruin him. When he finds out the truth, he’s going to hate me, and how will he ever trust someone again?
“What’s on your mind?”
I chew on my bottom lip. How can I ever admit that I’ve been lying to him? How can I tell him that I’m not who he thinks I am? That’s what’s on my mind. But I can’t tell him that. What would he think of me, then? I shake my head. “Just thinking about how different Seoul is from Seattle. You know, the culture shock is starting to hit me.” Once again, I lie to him.
He laughs, and that laugh is really one of the most beautiful sounds. A beautiful sound to match a beautiful personality - a beautiful person through and through. “I don’t know. It’s winter, and both places are freezing, and people are bundled up. Shouldn’t you feel right at home?”
“Well, I guess,” I mumble.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s really on your mind?”
I can’t help but laugh a little bit. He knows the fake Taemin so well. He knows when the fake Taemin is lying to cover for the real Taemin. He just doesn’t know that the fake Taemin is… well, fake. “Have you ever had your trust betrayed?” I ask him, looking up into those big, deep brown eyes.
His eyebrows raise a little. I guess he wasn’t expecting that kind of question. Why would he? “What do you mean? Like, by a family member? A friend? A girlfriend?”
“At all.”
He hums low in his throat, sits back a little in his chair, lets his head fall to the right, looks me in the eyes. “Yeah. I think everyone has at least once.”
“What did it make you feel like? Were you really mad?”
He chuckles lightly. “Well, which time? The circumstances kind of matter.”
I look down and change the song on my iPod. I always play music when Minho and I talk. He says that he likes it because he likes to learn more about me through my music. “I don’t know. How about… how about by a friend? Like, did they lie to you about something important?”
“One time Jonghyun said my girlfriend kissed him. I broke up with her because I don’t give second chances. But, it turns out he only said that because he knew I’d break up with her and he wanted to date her. I was really mad about that. He and I fought and didn’t talk for a while, but, we’re cool now. I just needed some time to cool off. And she eventually broke up with him, so I felt a little better, as bad as that sounds.”
“It doesn’t sound bad,” I say quietly. “You had every right to be mad. I mean, he lied to you, and then took your girlfriend.”
Minho nods slowly and then shrugs. “But you learn from it.”
“Were… were you more mad that he lied, or that he took your girlfriend?”
He sits up in his chair and clears his throat, then runs a hand through his hair. It’s messy, now. I always love when it’s messy. “I mean, I was mad about both. But, I don’t know, maybe I was more mad that he lied? I mean, he couldn’t have taken my girlfriend if he didn’t lie.”
I knew deep down that that was how he would answer. My gut plummets, so far down that I’m not sure if it will ever readjust itself. Maybe I’ll feel this overwhelming guilt forever. Lords knows I deserve it. I should feel guilty for lying to him. This is a boy - no, a man - that has been honest with me from the beginning, and I’ve been dancing around the truth trying so hard not to let him figure it out.
“Why are you asking?” He smiles at me softly and tilts his head to the side. “Something happen?”
I lower my eyes again. “Just… found out that I never really knew someone that I thought I did.”
“Oh.”
I try and collect my sanity. I can’t be too obvious. Or, maybe I already am.
“Maybe that person was just afraid.”
I look up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
Minho shrugs and purses his lips. He does that when he’s thinking. “Maybe… maybe that person lied because they were too afraid to tell you the truth. Maybe they thought that you would judge them and so they kept the truth locked up where it wouldn’t get hurt.”
He’s right. You’re right, Minho. I was afraid that you would judge me. I am afraid that you’ll judge me. I can’t tell you the truth because I can’t know what you’ll think of the real Taemin. Would you think I was a freak? A little girl that danced ballet and liked to have long straight hair framing my face and dyed honey brown in color? Would you call me a fag to my face and push me into lockers, knock my books on the floor, shun me and make my life a living hell? What would you really think of me, Minho? I’m lying for the sake of our friendship. Even if it’s not an honest friendship, you still think it is. You can sit happily in the dark and I’ll carry the guilt of my lies on my shoulders. Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have.
“Y-yeah, maybe.”
And then the conversation ends. Just as always, he leaves at four in the afternoon for soccer practice. After all, he’s the captain and he can’t miss practice. He’s never late and told me that he always falls asleep right when he gets home unless he didn’t do his homework for the previous night. I worry that he doesn’t eat well. Sometimes my fingers hover over the keyboard of my phone, itching to send him a text message to make sure he ate. We exchanged numbers a while back, but we’ve never put them to use. We only talk on the webcam or instant messenger. He and I haven’t even met yet. I’m too shy. Because I’m not confident that I can’t hide well behind the fake Taemin if I’m face to face with Minho. I’m afraid the scrawny, gay, lying Taemin will poke through and reveal the truth.
I spend the rest of the day wondering how Minho is doing at soccer practice. Was he finally able to curve the ball in from the corner? Did he master slide tackling from the back without fully taking out the other player? He says it’s illegal to slide tackle from the back, and that you’ll get a card if the other player falls. I don’t know much about soccer - just what he’s taught me. I wonder if he’s keeping hydrated and I wonder if he ever mentions me to his teammates. I mean, why would he? But has he?
“Taemin, someone is at the door for you.”
It’s almost eight at night. Who could be at the door? I guess it could be my science project partner. But why wouldn’t he just call? Why would he come to my house?
I hurry curiously and yet worriedly to the door. Mom didn’t say what the person looked like, and she didn’t give me a name. I wonder if it really is my-wait, Minho?
“Hey, Taemin.”
Where is my breath when I need it? He’s even more flawless in person. His webcam did him no justice. This man is radiating. “M-Minho? How did you-?”
“I asked the school for your address. My phone got stepped on at practice, so I couldn’t really call and ask.” He rubs the back of his neck and grins sheepishly. “Wanna go get some food? I’m starving.”
Yes. I mean, no. I mean… I can’t. But, I want to. Should I? It’s a bad idea, but I can’t say no if he came all this way. “Um, I’ll just change first… You can… you can step inside, if you want.”
He nods and waits patiently in the entry way for me. My legs can’t carry me fast enough to my bedroom where I pathetically try to catch my breath and bottle it in my lungs. Try to keep myself breathing as I slide into a pair of skinny jeans and a baggy t-shirt and my favorite high tops. I take my jacket from the foot of the bed and put it on, zipping it up to my neck before I meet him at the door again.
“I’m going out, Mom,” I call. “Be back in a few hours.” Or maybe less if this goes badly.
We walk to the restaurant. It’s right around the corner from my house, and I’ve eaten here a few times with Mom and Dad before. They know my name and know what I eat, but Minho orders differently than what I eat for the both of us. He orders two portions of galbi and asks for extra kimchi. It couldn’t be because fake Taemin…
“You really like kimchi, right?”
Oh no.
I smile and nod. “Thank you.”
I watch my words - keep real Taemin guarded and make sure fake Taemin answers for him. Minho and I have an easy conversation just as always. There’s an endless amount of subjects to cover when it’s Minho and I talking. The conversation never stutters, never dulls, and for just a moment I forget about the guilt weighing me down. I smile and I laugh and it feels like I’m really his friend. I feel like - just for a moment - that I never lied and that he knows the truth and that he accepts me. For just a moment, I feel like myself. I feel light and brave and feel like I can take on the world as long as Minho is my friend. But good moments never last. Of course I pick up something I lied about hating and stuff it into my mouth, and Minho raises an eyebrow and gives me that look I knew I would get when I was caught in a lie.
“My mom says that taste buds mature, too.” It’s the best I’ve got. It slides by but just barely and the good moment has passed. Once again I’m burdened with my own lies and a fake persona.
Minho pays, insisting that he invited me out without any notice and so he should pay, and leaving the restaurant is like leaving behind good memories. After this, I have to try and sleep with my guilty conscious. It’s never easy.
“Want to walk to the park?”
I can’t say no to him once again. We end up at the park, sitting on a bench beneath a dull street lamp. That’s what I feel like - a dull street lamp. I should be bright and shining and happy, but because of fake Taemin, I’m not. I’m dull.
“We’re frightened of what makes us different.”
I look up at him with my eyebrows furred in confusion. “What?”
“We hide because we’re afraid of what makes us different, so we force ourselves to become someone we’re not, and we hide behind that exterior.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his coat, sits back, kicks his mile-long soccer legs out, and turns his head to look at me. “I know, Taemin.”
I avert my eyes. This is it. This is when the truth comes out and our friendship ends. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Sorry doesn’t make things better. Sorry is just a word. There’s no action behind it - it’s useless when you’ve done something horrible like I have. “How did you…”
“My cousin went to school with you in Seattle. I visited one time - you had just started growing your hair out, then - and my cousin told me the kids there didn’t like you.”
I swallow thickly, forcing my tears down and choking back a sob. “I should go home.” His arm jutting out in front of me stops me from moving. I stare at it and frown deeply.
“Let me finish first, okay?”
I have no choice. I owe him that much.
“I know why you lied.” He pauses, waits for me to say something, but what can I say? So he continues. “I know you were afraid. I know you went out of your way to try to be the person you thought I would like, but the truth is, I like the real Taemin. The Taemin that listens to Super Junior and SNSD. The Taemin that always puts his mother first and would skip out on our webcam chats when she wanted to spend time with him. The Taemin that works so hard to please everyone. But Taemin, you’re beautiful without that. It’s okay to show the real you. I like this Taemin.”
A few tears drip from my chin and soak through my jeans to my knees. “I… I don’t like sushi. And, I sleep with a yellow stuffed chick, and I’ve always liked ballet. And… and I’ve never had a girlfriend. I… I d-don’t even like… g-girls.” I turn and face him, putting on a brave face and wiping my tears away with the sleeve of my jacket. “D-do you s-still like this Taemin? The Taemin that lied about everything? You said you d-don’t give second chances…”
“I think I can make an exception,” he whispers, and he ever so slowly leans in, and our lips touch.
My first instinct is to shy away, to save my first kiss for someone that really knows me, to save him from dirtying his lips with the lies I’ve told, but when his hand moves to my neck and he holds me in place, I don’t feel like fighting. His lips are warm and his hand is warm on my neck, and he’s gentle. He doesn’t push or pressure, and our kiss only deepens after I’ve carefully tapped his lip with my tongue.
He tastes like second chances and forgiveness, or maybe I’m being naïve.
When we part and I’m breathless and afraid to open my eyes, he speaks again.
“Tell me all about you, Taemin. Tell me everything - I want to know. I want to know who your first crush was, what the first CD you bought was, and who your idol is. I want to know what you do when you’re lonely and how you sleep when you’re sick. I want to know everything.”
That night on that bench, I told him everything. I confessed the truth behind the lies I told. I admitted that kimchi isn’t my favorite food in the world, and that I’ve always liked cucumbers and raspberries. I told him everything and then some. I told him how happy I was that I had met him and that I felt safe sitting there next to him.
…He told me he loves me.
The end.
Pairing: 2min
Rating: PG-13 (just to be safe ^^)
Prompt: "We're frightened of what makes us different" & the picture prompt
Summary: It hurts to lie to someone when all you want to do is tell them the truth. Taemin knows that better than anybody.
A/N: Hi guys ^^ I wrote this for the 019 challenge at shawol_haven hope you guys like it~
It’s so easy to sit in front of my computer with my phone and iPod and pretend to be someone that I’m not. To him, I’m a dancer from the USA that came to Korea to try and become an idol. But that’s not true. He thinks I was popular and had a lot of friends and that they were all rooting for me. That’s not true either. He thinks I had to leave my girlfriend behind, but that’s definitely not true. If only he knew, then he’d know that yes, I’m a dancer, but no, I didn’t come to Korea to audition at an entertainment company. I came to Korea because I was picked on and bullied and got beat up one too many times. I came to escape. He’d know that I actually didn’t have that many friends because everyone thought of me as the “weird Asian kid that always danced in the hallways” and the only thing they were rooting for was me leaving. He’d know that I’ve never had a girlfriend, nor will I ever because I’m gay. He’d know I like guys, and then he’d stop talking to me.
There are a lot of things I lied to him about. I told him I liked sushi when I really actually hate it. He thinks I’ve always danced hip hop but I when I first started dancing, I danced ballet. He doesn’t know that I sleep with a bright yellow chick stuffed animal and that I’ve slept with it since I was nine. He thinks that my long hair is long and straightened because I want to make a good impression on the entertainment companies when really it’s long because I like it that way. I feel pretty that way. He thinks I’m confident and brave and thinks that I love dogs when I’m actually terrified of them.
I never realized how easy it was to pretend to be someone you’re not when it’s online. He and I met on a language exchange website. He was there because he wants to learn more English. I was there hoping to make a friend I could spend time with while in Korea so that I didn’t feel completely alone. But, I feel lonely anyways. He doesn’t know the real me, so how can I become his friend? He’s friends with the fake Taemin. He hasn’t even met the real Taemin. He doesn’t know that I’m afraid of the dark or that I used to do my mom’s makeup for fun when we stayed in on Fridays instead of going out to dinner or to the bowling alley or norebang. He certainly doesn’t know that I think he’s the most beautiful man to walk the planet.
He really is. Choi Minho is a God. When we webcam, I have to fight the blush on my cheeks, or at least adjust the settings so that it doesn’t show. He’s tall and built and has a handsome face with big, round eyes and a strong jaw. His hair is cut short and when he runs his hands through it it shoots out in every direction and looks like he just woke up from a nap. One time, he wanted to compare abs, and I thought my nose might bleed when he lifted up his shirt. Thankfully, my mom called me to dinner, so I escaped having to show him my scrawny stomach. He’d really get a kick out of that.
He plays soccer and he’s the class president at his school. He’s an A+ student and he’s never missed a day of school in his entire life. He has an older brother and they’re both very competitive, always trying out for sports teams and always making them, and then battling it out to see which sibling would come out victorious over the other. He told me that when he wins, he makes his brother do his chores, and when his brother wins, he makes Minho give him money. I like that Minho doesn’t try to take his brother’s hard earned money. It makes me feel like he’s truly a good person, and he probably is. He’s a better person than I am. Sometimes I feel like I’ll ruin him. When he finds out the truth, he’s going to hate me, and how will he ever trust someone again?
“What’s on your mind?”
I chew on my bottom lip. How can I ever admit that I’ve been lying to him? How can I tell him that I’m not who he thinks I am? That’s what’s on my mind. But I can’t tell him that. What would he think of me, then? I shake my head. “Just thinking about how different Seoul is from Seattle. You know, the culture shock is starting to hit me.” Once again, I lie to him.
He laughs, and that laugh is really one of the most beautiful sounds. A beautiful sound to match a beautiful personality - a beautiful person through and through. “I don’t know. It’s winter, and both places are freezing, and people are bundled up. Shouldn’t you feel right at home?”
“Well, I guess,” I mumble.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s really on your mind?”
I can’t help but laugh a little bit. He knows the fake Taemin so well. He knows when the fake Taemin is lying to cover for the real Taemin. He just doesn’t know that the fake Taemin is… well, fake. “Have you ever had your trust betrayed?” I ask him, looking up into those big, deep brown eyes.
His eyebrows raise a little. I guess he wasn’t expecting that kind of question. Why would he? “What do you mean? Like, by a family member? A friend? A girlfriend?”
“At all.”
He hums low in his throat, sits back a little in his chair, lets his head fall to the right, looks me in the eyes. “Yeah. I think everyone has at least once.”
“What did it make you feel like? Were you really mad?”
He chuckles lightly. “Well, which time? The circumstances kind of matter.”
I look down and change the song on my iPod. I always play music when Minho and I talk. He says that he likes it because he likes to learn more about me through my music. “I don’t know. How about… how about by a friend? Like, did they lie to you about something important?”
“One time Jonghyun said my girlfriend kissed him. I broke up with her because I don’t give second chances. But, it turns out he only said that because he knew I’d break up with her and he wanted to date her. I was really mad about that. He and I fought and didn’t talk for a while, but, we’re cool now. I just needed some time to cool off. And she eventually broke up with him, so I felt a little better, as bad as that sounds.”
“It doesn’t sound bad,” I say quietly. “You had every right to be mad. I mean, he lied to you, and then took your girlfriend.”
Minho nods slowly and then shrugs. “But you learn from it.”
“Were… were you more mad that he lied, or that he took your girlfriend?”
He sits up in his chair and clears his throat, then runs a hand through his hair. It’s messy, now. I always love when it’s messy. “I mean, I was mad about both. But, I don’t know, maybe I was more mad that he lied? I mean, he couldn’t have taken my girlfriend if he didn’t lie.”
I knew deep down that that was how he would answer. My gut plummets, so far down that I’m not sure if it will ever readjust itself. Maybe I’ll feel this overwhelming guilt forever. Lords knows I deserve it. I should feel guilty for lying to him. This is a boy - no, a man - that has been honest with me from the beginning, and I’ve been dancing around the truth trying so hard not to let him figure it out.
“Why are you asking?” He smiles at me softly and tilts his head to the side. “Something happen?”
I lower my eyes again. “Just… found out that I never really knew someone that I thought I did.”
“Oh.”
I try and collect my sanity. I can’t be too obvious. Or, maybe I already am.
“Maybe that person was just afraid.”
I look up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
Minho shrugs and purses his lips. He does that when he’s thinking. “Maybe… maybe that person lied because they were too afraid to tell you the truth. Maybe they thought that you would judge them and so they kept the truth locked up where it wouldn’t get hurt.”
He’s right. You’re right, Minho. I was afraid that you would judge me. I am afraid that you’ll judge me. I can’t tell you the truth because I can’t know what you’ll think of the real Taemin. Would you think I was a freak? A little girl that danced ballet and liked to have long straight hair framing my face and dyed honey brown in color? Would you call me a fag to my face and push me into lockers, knock my books on the floor, shun me and make my life a living hell? What would you really think of me, Minho? I’m lying for the sake of our friendship. Even if it’s not an honest friendship, you still think it is. You can sit happily in the dark and I’ll carry the guilt of my lies on my shoulders. Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have.
“Y-yeah, maybe.”
And then the conversation ends. Just as always, he leaves at four in the afternoon for soccer practice. After all, he’s the captain and he can’t miss practice. He’s never late and told me that he always falls asleep right when he gets home unless he didn’t do his homework for the previous night. I worry that he doesn’t eat well. Sometimes my fingers hover over the keyboard of my phone, itching to send him a text message to make sure he ate. We exchanged numbers a while back, but we’ve never put them to use. We only talk on the webcam or instant messenger. He and I haven’t even met yet. I’m too shy. Because I’m not confident that I can’t hide well behind the fake Taemin if I’m face to face with Minho. I’m afraid the scrawny, gay, lying Taemin will poke through and reveal the truth.
I spend the rest of the day wondering how Minho is doing at soccer practice. Was he finally able to curve the ball in from the corner? Did he master slide tackling from the back without fully taking out the other player? He says it’s illegal to slide tackle from the back, and that you’ll get a card if the other player falls. I don’t know much about soccer - just what he’s taught me. I wonder if he’s keeping hydrated and I wonder if he ever mentions me to his teammates. I mean, why would he? But has he?
“Taemin, someone is at the door for you.”
It’s almost eight at night. Who could be at the door? I guess it could be my science project partner. But why wouldn’t he just call? Why would he come to my house?
I hurry curiously and yet worriedly to the door. Mom didn’t say what the person looked like, and she didn’t give me a name. I wonder if it really is my-wait, Minho?
“Hey, Taemin.”
Where is my breath when I need it? He’s even more flawless in person. His webcam did him no justice. This man is radiating. “M-Minho? How did you-?”
“I asked the school for your address. My phone got stepped on at practice, so I couldn’t really call and ask.” He rubs the back of his neck and grins sheepishly. “Wanna go get some food? I’m starving.”
Yes. I mean, no. I mean… I can’t. But, I want to. Should I? It’s a bad idea, but I can’t say no if he came all this way. “Um, I’ll just change first… You can… you can step inside, if you want.”
He nods and waits patiently in the entry way for me. My legs can’t carry me fast enough to my bedroom where I pathetically try to catch my breath and bottle it in my lungs. Try to keep myself breathing as I slide into a pair of skinny jeans and a baggy t-shirt and my favorite high tops. I take my jacket from the foot of the bed and put it on, zipping it up to my neck before I meet him at the door again.
“I’m going out, Mom,” I call. “Be back in a few hours.” Or maybe less if this goes badly.
We walk to the restaurant. It’s right around the corner from my house, and I’ve eaten here a few times with Mom and Dad before. They know my name and know what I eat, but Minho orders differently than what I eat for the both of us. He orders two portions of galbi and asks for extra kimchi. It couldn’t be because fake Taemin…
“You really like kimchi, right?”
Oh no.
I smile and nod. “Thank you.”
I watch my words - keep real Taemin guarded and make sure fake Taemin answers for him. Minho and I have an easy conversation just as always. There’s an endless amount of subjects to cover when it’s Minho and I talking. The conversation never stutters, never dulls, and for just a moment I forget about the guilt weighing me down. I smile and I laugh and it feels like I’m really his friend. I feel like - just for a moment - that I never lied and that he knows the truth and that he accepts me. For just a moment, I feel like myself. I feel light and brave and feel like I can take on the world as long as Minho is my friend. But good moments never last. Of course I pick up something I lied about hating and stuff it into my mouth, and Minho raises an eyebrow and gives me that look I knew I would get when I was caught in a lie.
“My mom says that taste buds mature, too.” It’s the best I’ve got. It slides by but just barely and the good moment has passed. Once again I’m burdened with my own lies and a fake persona.
Minho pays, insisting that he invited me out without any notice and so he should pay, and leaving the restaurant is like leaving behind good memories. After this, I have to try and sleep with my guilty conscious. It’s never easy.
“Want to walk to the park?”
I can’t say no to him once again. We end up at the park, sitting on a bench beneath a dull street lamp. That’s what I feel like - a dull street lamp. I should be bright and shining and happy, but because of fake Taemin, I’m not. I’m dull.
“We’re frightened of what makes us different.”
I look up at him with my eyebrows furred in confusion. “What?”
“We hide because we’re afraid of what makes us different, so we force ourselves to become someone we’re not, and we hide behind that exterior.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his coat, sits back, kicks his mile-long soccer legs out, and turns his head to look at me. “I know, Taemin.”
I avert my eyes. This is it. This is when the truth comes out and our friendship ends. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Sorry doesn’t make things better. Sorry is just a word. There’s no action behind it - it’s useless when you’ve done something horrible like I have. “How did you…”
“My cousin went to school with you in Seattle. I visited one time - you had just started growing your hair out, then - and my cousin told me the kids there didn’t like you.”
I swallow thickly, forcing my tears down and choking back a sob. “I should go home.” His arm jutting out in front of me stops me from moving. I stare at it and frown deeply.
“Let me finish first, okay?”
I have no choice. I owe him that much.
“I know why you lied.” He pauses, waits for me to say something, but what can I say? So he continues. “I know you were afraid. I know you went out of your way to try to be the person you thought I would like, but the truth is, I like the real Taemin. The Taemin that listens to Super Junior and SNSD. The Taemin that always puts his mother first and would skip out on our webcam chats when she wanted to spend time with him. The Taemin that works so hard to please everyone. But Taemin, you’re beautiful without that. It’s okay to show the real you. I like this Taemin.”
A few tears drip from my chin and soak through my jeans to my knees. “I… I don’t like sushi. And, I sleep with a yellow stuffed chick, and I’ve always liked ballet. And… and I’ve never had a girlfriend. I… I d-don’t even like… g-girls.” I turn and face him, putting on a brave face and wiping my tears away with the sleeve of my jacket. “D-do you s-still like this Taemin? The Taemin that lied about everything? You said you d-don’t give second chances…”
“I think I can make an exception,” he whispers, and he ever so slowly leans in, and our lips touch.
My first instinct is to shy away, to save my first kiss for someone that really knows me, to save him from dirtying his lips with the lies I’ve told, but when his hand moves to my neck and he holds me in place, I don’t feel like fighting. His lips are warm and his hand is warm on my neck, and he’s gentle. He doesn’t push or pressure, and our kiss only deepens after I’ve carefully tapped his lip with my tongue.
He tastes like second chances and forgiveness, or maybe I’m being naïve.
When we part and I’m breathless and afraid to open my eyes, he speaks again.
“Tell me all about you, Taemin. Tell me everything - I want to know. I want to know who your first crush was, what the first CD you bought was, and who your idol is. I want to know what you do when you’re lonely and how you sleep when you’re sick. I want to know everything.”
That night on that bench, I told him everything. I confessed the truth behind the lies I told. I admitted that kimchi isn’t my favorite food in the world, and that I’ve always liked cucumbers and raspberries. I told him everything and then some. I told him how happy I was that I had met him and that I felt safe sitting there next to him.
…He told me he loves me.
The end.