a different kind of crazy (2min)
TITLE A Different Kind of Crazy 15/20
SUMMARY Taemin's never been one to care about what's right or wrong. He doesn't think about things like what's accepted and what's not. He wants what he wants, but it's not always a walk in the park.
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS [SHINee] Minho/Taemin, Jonghyun/Key. (f(x) cameos)
RATING/WARNING R.
GENRE Real life/romance
1 2 3 4 5 6 ♥ 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 minholude 14
a different kind of crazy;
School on Monday couldn't move any slower. It's prolonged torture for Taemin just to sit through class and remind himself that it's okay, nobody knows--nobody knows. He repeats that in his head. What is it they don't know? Taemin doesn't really want to think about it. He doesn't want to know, either.
He faces a wall, and a choice. He can't run from this any longer, he can't say one thing and think the other. He'd never thought it would hurt so much to bear his mother's shame, he'd never thought it would be so painful to come to terms with how he really feels--who he really might be. It's just a little overwhelming.
"--min. Hello?"
Taemin snaps back to attention when Kibum grabs his nose and yanks him mercilessly forwards by it, despite the concern threading through his knotted brows. "As my favorite earthling, I'd prefer you steer clear from space." he says, sounding apprehensive.
Taemin looks up at him with a glum stare, holding his aching nose. "Was that really necessary?"
"Would you rather a slap? I won't hold back." Kibum crosses his arms, nudging his bag against Taemin's hip. "Come on."
"There won't be a next time." Taemin sighs, pulling himself out of his seat with over-exaggerated force.
"Sounds scary." Kibum puts his hands on Taemin's shoulder and guides him out of the classroom and down the hall. "You didn't hear the bell ring. You didn't even notice your class leaving. How long were you sitting there zoning? I wish I knew how you did it. It must be nice to just tune out like that."
Taemin bites his lip, spinning out of Kibum's guidance. "I heard them, I was just preoccupied."
Kibum throws up his arms in sarcastic retribution. "Is that not the same thing?"
"Hyung," Taemin looses a heavy, tired sigh. "Can we not?"
Kibum picks up on the desperate tone to Taemin's voice, dropping his act. "It's never easy with you, you know. If I ask you if you're okay, you clam up. If I act like nothing's wrong--which is complete and utter bullshit--you act like this. You are going to give me an embolism and I am going to die a bloody death and it will be on your conscience forever."
"Ease up, Kibum." Jonghyun had been watching their discussion from his locker, and Taemin jumps when he steps up from behind him. "The tension between you two is almost tangible, and it's giving me the creeps."
"The creeps? You have no right to talk, ever, for the rest of your life, and you know why." Kibum bristles, but Taemin has to agree with Jonghyun. It's not Kibum's fault he's so wound up--both of them are. Sometimes Taemin thinks Kibum's too empathetic for his own good. It's both flattering and frustrating. "That is so insensitive." he adds as a final blow.
Too empathetic for his own good, Taemin repeats in his mind. He takes a deep breath and lets it go. "I'm going to stop home, first." he says, changing the subject.
Kibum's eyes are prying and sharp. "And your mother?"
"Working late." Taemin supplies easily, turning about on his heel. "I'll catch you up in a bit, okay?" He doesn't miss the disdainful look on Kibum's face, or the worried one Jonghyun observes him with, looking dolefully back and forth at the two. Taemin can't help but feel guilty for putting so much stress on Kibum, and in turn, Jonghyun. It's unfair. The feeling twists his gut even tighter, and he doesn't like how it puts him on edge.
As Taemin's mingling with the steady flow of students exiting the school gates, he hears a familiar voice--that deep chuckle--and looks over to see Minho standing with a few people, dressed in a thick sweater, basketball shorts, and muddy cleats. He's facing away from Taemin, so all he can see are the bland faces of a few of his classmates.
"You know you can't keep it a secret forever." says one, "How the fuck did you get coach to let you back on the team?"
"Magic." Minho replies with some dismissive motion. "You coming to practice?"
"No way, you must be from old money or some shit. You get away with everything. And no, duh, Sunyoung's going to be there. I'm skipping."
"You shouldn't let a girl terrorize you like that." Minho replies, and moves to cross the street, clearly headed towards the soccer field.
Taemin hasn't realized he's stopped walking. Students pass in front of him and he blinks, trying to look less obvious. And since when was Minho in any position to give advice? Especially advice like that.
Without thinking, Taemin follows him, keeping his distance and hiding a good few paces behind a group of girls headed in the same direction. He pauses at the bleachers, hovering about the mounds of melting snow that had been pushed out of the field. Minho has disappeared into the locker rooms and Taemin considers creeping around the grandstand or climbing up to find a seat. He might as well, since he stalked him all the way out here.
The thought curiosity kills the cat crosses his mind, but he pushes it aside and flips his hoodie over his face, hoping to disguise himself, choosing a middle bleacher and sitting huddled against the railed edge.
He flinches when a feminine voice calls out, "Are you here to watch too?"
The three girls Taemin had followed are sitting directly in the middle, a few rows beneath him. The tallest one waves, motioning for him to join them. "Uhm," he says.
"Who are you?" she asks point blank. "Are you planning to try out for the team?" she motions for him to come down again, but Taemin resolutely stays where he is.
"He's too scrawny for that." her friend pipes in.
"I think it's cute." the third girl replies, busy redoing her ponytail.
"You would." says the bossy girl. "You're into those pretty boy types anyway."
The windchill cuts through Taemin, who can't help but listen in on their conversation even though he's clearly already been dismissed from it. He keeps a hawk-like eye on the locker rooms though, tucking cold hands into his loose sleeves.
"Like you're any different!" the girl flips her done-up hair in annoyed retaliation. "Listening to you go on and on about Minho-oppa~" she purposely pitches her voice into an obnoxious whine. Taemin can't help but wince.
"Yah!" the taller girl yells, "You're such a bitch, Sunyoungie." she says, "Scratch that, whore!"
"Shut up," the quieter one, who Taemin reasons is the more level-headed of the three, snaps, "He doesn't even bother with you anymore. Why do you constantly have to bring him up?"
The defensive girl, Sunyoung, purses her lips into a put off moue. "Don't look at me like that."
"He's got to be seeing someone if he's ignoring you of all people. He must have found a sexier girl."
Sunyoung's face contorts into an annoyed frown. "So what. We just hook up every now and then, it's not like we're dating."
A million thoughts are racing through Taemin's mind, but they all point to one thing: he shouldn't be surprised. It's not like Minho tried to hide it, but what would he know? Minho never tells him anything--he always has to hear it from a third, and in this case, entirely random party.
"Whatever, unnie," the quieter girl titters. "Who was it that said you were a match made in heaven?"
"Seeing as you're both totally blind to other people's feelings--"
"Accuse me all you want," says Sunyoung, sitting up in order to gain momentum and push her friend off the bleacher. "But don't get your hopes up."
"That's right, he doesn't do relationships."
"That's what he told me." Sunyoung shoots back. "Stop bothering me about it. If you're so curious, ask him yourself. Oh--they're starting!"
Taemin looks to the field when she points, but with nowhere near the amount of enthusiasm the girls below him do. Curiosity doesn't so much kill the cat as maim it, he thinks dejectedly. He stews on Sunyoung's misfired advice though, thinking she's kind of right--even though he had always known, or always had that feeling, that Minho wasn't exactly exclusive to him.
Minho wasn't his.
The thought hits him like a speeding freight train. He sits through the thirty minutes of Minho's soccer practice staring stunned, watching the skill Minho exudes even on icy ground, the graceful way he moves, how obvious his passion for soccer is. It's the only honest thing Taemin thinks he's ever seen from Minho.
Their practice is unfortunately cut short by looming clouds and a threatening crackle of thunder. Taemin hops the bleachers and zips under them when the rain starts to fall without a second warning, heavy and freezing. It's so thick he can barely see, and he holds out his hand, feeling the tiny, icy drops hit against his upturned palm. The small awning over the grandstand keeps him relatively dry, and so he resigns himself to wait it out, or at least wait until Minho reappears.
It doesn't take long before team members start dashing out of the locker room with or without umbrellas, making a run for the roofed bus stop across the street. Taemin picks up a small rock and aims when he sees Minho, prays that for once his luck will pull through, and chucks it. Success. Major success--it bounces off Minho's shoulder and has him spinning around, a wide-eyed look gracing his usually stoic face.
Taemin doesn't wave, he just stands under the bleachers, fists gripped around his lengthy sleeves to keep his fingers warm.
"Taemin-ah?" Minho goes over to him, tipping the umbrella over his head as well. "Why are you out here?"
"I came to watch you practice." Taemin blurts out before he can stop himself, finishing lamely with, "And I forgot my umbrella."
"In this weather?" Minho sounds close to incredulous. Taemin's face heats up in flustered annoyance. Minho adds, teasingly, "You shouldn't have."
"You're right." Taemin replies, pushing the bar of Minho's umbrella away from its lean to cover him as well. Something's getting close to snapping inside of him, and he's speaking without thinking, all in an angry rush. "It's not like you bothered to come to any of mine."
"If this is about yesterday--"
"About it?" Taemin cuts him off. "So you knew?"
"I would have gone." Minho bites his lip, brows furrowed.
"Liar." exclaims Taemin, "You didn't!" He's not sure why he's so upset about it, when he hadn't planned on inviting Minho in the first place. He hadn't wanted Minho to see him like that. But now things are different, and he's not sure why.
"Something came up." Minho looks like he wants to say more, but he stops. "But I really would have gone, and that's the surprising part." he's stepping into Taemin's space, forcing him further into the shadow of the bleachers.
"Surprising?" Taemin huffs out a disdainful laugh. "Why should I believe you?"
Minho reaches out and threads his fingers through Taemin's hair, brushing it out of his face rather gently. He looses a frustrated sigh. "Your hair is getting long."
"Don't--" Taemin stutters, pushes Minho's hand away from his face. "Don't change the subject."
Minho laughs. "You're going to make me say it. I can't believe you of all people--"
He's cut off when his phone starts to trill, a plain ringtone that makes his face go rather pale. Taemin's never seen such a distraught expression on him before, and it's kind of numbing.
Minho answers his phone, turning his face away from Taemin. "Why are you calling me," he greets rudely, "No, it's raining. What do you think?" a short pause. "I am busy. ... Is it really that important? ... Alright, fine. ... Fine. Just keep them occupied. ... Do I have to give you step by step instructions? ... Don't threaten him, dipshit. Just wait for me, I'm on my way." he snaps his phone shut with a look of disgust.
"Was that," Taemin ventures to ask, "Your father?"
Minho barks out a laugh. "Fuck no. My father isn't so green." he says, but that meaning is entirely lost on Taemin. Minho leans in to his level, meeting him eye to eye. They're so close that Taemin can feel his breath. "Hey," he says.
"Hey," Taemin replies, and as much as he wishes he weren't, he's somewhat dizzy.
"Are you free tonight?" he asks.
Taemin considers his lack of curfew now that he's more or less staying with Kibum. Rino had canceled dance practice for the next three days to give everybody a much needed rest, as well. "Maybe." he decides, not wanting to give Minho an easy time.
"Come over. Can you make it around eight?"
Taemin closes his eyes, expectant. "I said maybe, didn't I?"
Minho pulls away instead of leaning forward and closing the limited distance between them. He hands Taemin his umbrella. "Return this for me, then." he says, all knowing eyes and provocative smiles. Before Taemin can even reply, he's running out into the rain, holding his bag above his head and heading for the bus just rolling into the stop.
Taemin holds the large umbrella above him and looks up, counting the small holes littered throughout. The ones Minho had fictitiously blamed the sleet for a few weeks ago. They are more like slits, as if a knife have been taken to it or something.
Strange. Taemin shakes the umbrella and steps out into the downpour. His imagination is just too much sometimes.
He opts to walk home, since the next bus wouldn't be arriving for thirty minutes, and is glad the rain lets up before his uniform pants get too soaked. He unlocks his door and leans against it once it's shut, staring into a home that no longer feels like his. He almost steps on the mail that had been shoved through the slot, stooping down to pick up a single, pale blue envelope. Oddly enough, it's addressed to him.
Taemin fumbles with the letter, removing its contents and unfolding the paper within. He recognizes the insignia for Seoul International Dance and his heart almost stops in his chest. It's a small KNUA scholarship, informing him that he had also been chosen to attend the exclusive audition for the academy. Taemin sinks to the floor, focusing on keeping his breathing even.
He had never seen this coming. He's performed a number of times in a number of theatres, so why now? Taemin carefully folds the letter and puts it back into the envelope, stuffing it into his backpack. He's glad he had gotten to the letter before his mother, he thinks, because he's sure she's not too happy with his pursuit of dance as a career. He quickly packs only what he needs, grabs Minho's discarded umbrella and his backpack, and locks the door behind him. Something about the deed seems freeing almost, but he pushes that thought out of his mind and rushes the few blocks down to Kibum's house, pounding on the door relentlessly.
Kibum greets him with, "Holy shit, is the world ending outside, no need to sound so desperate."
"It might as well be, with this weather." Taemin plays along, only relaxing when he steps into Kibum's flat.
"What took you so long?" Kibum asks, not waiting for a reply. "Are you feeling okay? You should eat something. You look a little pale."
Taemin hadn't known Kibum had such a systematic way of living, even down to how he dealt with affording food: Taemin had only just noticed Kibum didn't have a fridge. He voices this instead of answering.
"Not worth it." Kibum shrugs, "All the fridge I need is that way." and he points to the convenience store outside the propped front door, down across the street.
Taemin stares down at the small store, lights buzzing twenty-four hours. From where he stands, he can see a girl around his age at the counter, flipping through a teen magazine with little interest. He'd been there a few times, with Kibum, or to pick something up on his way home from Kibum's. But this time, she's familiar. That Sunyoung girl from the bleachers. Taemin closes his eyes and quickly turns away--the absurdity of his life continues to astound him.
"I'll try to be useful." he offers, digging through his pocket to find the change. He hasn't spent much of the money Minho gave him. Maybe it's due to guilt, but Taemin doesn't like to think about that. "I can pitch in. Do you want anything?"
"A new job." Kibum calls from where he'd disappeared into the bathroom, emerging in the clerk's uniform of the grand hotel he'd been working at for the past few months. "Are you sure about that?" he eyes the money Taemin pulls out of his wallet. "Since when were you carrying around double digits!"
Taemin gives him a distraught look. "It's only 50,000W."
"You are an outrage." Kibum exclaims, rolling his eyes. "Explain." he adds, looking from the money to Taemin with inimically raised eyebrows. "You're not doing something shady, are you?"
"No!" Taemin turns red at the thought, and for obvious reasons, Krystal pops into mind. He pouts. "You have no right to say that to me."
"Don't be precarious." Kibum shoots back coolly. "I just worked under the table at a bar." he plops onto the couch beside Taemin. "When I was fifteen."
Taemin giggles. He can't help it. "Is that all?"
"May I remind you that the grace of my heart only extends so far," Kibum pushes him off the couch with his foot. "I am not the Grinch who stole Christmas."
"Fine, I'll tell you." Taemin sniffs, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the floor. "Minho gave it to me."
Kibum's curious face falls a little flat. "Everything he does pisses me off."
"Hyung," Taemin is mildly offended, but he has nothing to follow up his whiny tone with. Kibum unpockets his cigarettes and lights one, giving Taemin an expectant once over. So Taemin caves, because Kibum's not going to settle for such an open-ended story, and retells what had happened at the bar a few days ago.
"It sounds to me," Kibum exhales smoke out the screen of his balcony, "Like you are both too stubborn for your own good."
"Thanks." Taemin says, deadpan.
"You're welcome." Kibum replies, mimicking his tone. "As hopeless as you are, Minho's probably just as bad. Honestly, you need to figure out your own shit before bothering with his. Because it's obvious Minho has a lot of shit. Like an ocean's worth. Yours is no pond, either."
Taemin sinks against the couch in wan digression. "What is that even supposed to mean."
"You tell me." Kibum knocks a hand on Taemin's head just as the alarm on his phone goes off, informing him he needs to leave for work. "Gotta dip. I'll just catch dinner uptown, so you fend for yourself. Spare key is on the coffee table." He leaves then, and Taemin stares at the key and then at the door, and says to thin air, "Ramyun it is." Whatever his shit is, Taemin muses, he'll deal with later.
He slips on his shoes and crosses the street to the convenience store, browsing all the aisles just to stall from having to go to the cashier. Eventually, he picks out the flavor of ramyun he wants and dumps it on the counter. Sunyoung looks at his selection with an air of boredom, then up at him. She gasps and points. "You again!" she says.
"Er," Taemin's not sure what to say to that. He had been hoping she wouldn't recognize him with his hair pulled back and out of uniform.
"Don't tell me," she says, "You room with Kibum? He practically lives here. Ah," she points at him, "That's why you were familiar!"
"I guess so." Taemin replies quietly. There's no way he can feel comfortable around her. Even though it was wrong of him to eavesdrop, he can't just pretend he doesn't know.
"So why were you at practice?" she asks, taking an ungodly amount of time to ring up the ramyun and bottle of water. "It's true though, you know, you're too spare for the team."
Taemin stares at her, taken aback. "No," he says, struck by poorly-timed boldness. "I was there to watch Minho." he immediately regrets it when Sunyoung gives him a stark look.
"So you're queer too, then?" she says glibly, "Oppa's not like that."
"What would you know?" Taemin snaps back. He's genuinely offended, and the light bruise on his cheek stings against the sore set of his jaw.
"A lot, actually." she replies, seemingly unfazed. "It doesn't matter, even if you were a girl, Minho's a playboy. He doesn't get serious for anyone. You should just give up on him. Your total's 3,400W."
"Are you speaking from experience?" Taemin taunts, shoving the cash out towards her mechanically.
She takes it, ringing it through with a sour expression. "What do you think." she says flatly.
Taemin doesn't wait for her to bag the items, too annoyed to even give her a proper response. He stomps back to Kibum's flat and lets himself in with the spare key, flinging himself onto the couch. He considers screaming into the cushions, thinks better of it, instead holding his breath for as long as he possibly can. He looses a huge sigh when he rolls over, staring up at Kibum's retro analog clock.
7:32pm. He considers standing Minho up. His eyes wander to the plain umbrella, then to the ramyun he'd discarded on the coffee table.
"Fuck it." he snaps suddenly, rustling his hair madly and jumping to his feet. He grabs Minho's umbrella and locks the door behind him again, speed walking to the stop.
Whatever Minho's after tonight, thinks Taemin, he's not going to get until he tells the truth.
previous | next
note; Sorry for any grammar errors, I have a tendency to overlook them when I haven't slept all night long. >o>;;
KNAU: Korean National University of the Arts. Seoul International Dance is also known as SIDance. I don't know how the systems work, how scholarships work, or how auditioning works, so I just winged it. （；￣ェ￣）
Uh, I have no idea if there is an equivalent to old money in Korea. I'm assuming there is.
I decided to use Luna's Korean name... because it seemed more normal, and she's not really an important character in the story ~ and I tried to make them seem kind of like the bitchy girls in drama and shit, but what would I know, I honestly don't watch drama. So if I failed, sorry! xD
Real hot timez in next chapter, I promise, pinky and all! ♥
SUMMARY Taemin's never been one to care about what's right or wrong. He doesn't think about things like what's accepted and what's not. He wants what he wants, but it's not always a walk in the park.
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS [SHINee] Minho/Taemin, Jonghyun/Key. (f(x) cameos)
RATING/WARNING R.
GENRE Real life/romance
1 2 3 4 5 6 ♥ 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 minholude 14
a different kind of crazy;
School on Monday couldn't move any slower. It's prolonged torture for Taemin just to sit through class and remind himself that it's okay, nobody knows--nobody knows. He repeats that in his head. What is it they don't know? Taemin doesn't really want to think about it. He doesn't want to know, either.
He faces a wall, and a choice. He can't run from this any longer, he can't say one thing and think the other. He'd never thought it would hurt so much to bear his mother's shame, he'd never thought it would be so painful to come to terms with how he really feels--who he really might be. It's just a little overwhelming.
"--min. Hello?"
Taemin snaps back to attention when Kibum grabs his nose and yanks him mercilessly forwards by it, despite the concern threading through his knotted brows. "As my favorite earthling, I'd prefer you steer clear from space." he says, sounding apprehensive.
Taemin looks up at him with a glum stare, holding his aching nose. "Was that really necessary?"
"Would you rather a slap? I won't hold back." Kibum crosses his arms, nudging his bag against Taemin's hip. "Come on."
"There won't be a next time." Taemin sighs, pulling himself out of his seat with over-exaggerated force.
"Sounds scary." Kibum puts his hands on Taemin's shoulder and guides him out of the classroom and down the hall. "You didn't hear the bell ring. You didn't even notice your class leaving. How long were you sitting there zoning? I wish I knew how you did it. It must be nice to just tune out like that."
Taemin bites his lip, spinning out of Kibum's guidance. "I heard them, I was just preoccupied."
Kibum throws up his arms in sarcastic retribution. "Is that not the same thing?"
"Hyung," Taemin looses a heavy, tired sigh. "Can we not?"
Kibum picks up on the desperate tone to Taemin's voice, dropping his act. "It's never easy with you, you know. If I ask you if you're okay, you clam up. If I act like nothing's wrong--which is complete and utter bullshit--you act like this. You are going to give me an embolism and I am going to die a bloody death and it will be on your conscience forever."
"Ease up, Kibum." Jonghyun had been watching their discussion from his locker, and Taemin jumps when he steps up from behind him. "The tension between you two is almost tangible, and it's giving me the creeps."
"The creeps? You have no right to talk, ever, for the rest of your life, and you know why." Kibum bristles, but Taemin has to agree with Jonghyun. It's not Kibum's fault he's so wound up--both of them are. Sometimes Taemin thinks Kibum's too empathetic for his own good. It's both flattering and frustrating. "That is so insensitive." he adds as a final blow.
Too empathetic for his own good, Taemin repeats in his mind. He takes a deep breath and lets it go. "I'm going to stop home, first." he says, changing the subject.
Kibum's eyes are prying and sharp. "And your mother?"
"Working late." Taemin supplies easily, turning about on his heel. "I'll catch you up in a bit, okay?" He doesn't miss the disdainful look on Kibum's face, or the worried one Jonghyun observes him with, looking dolefully back and forth at the two. Taemin can't help but feel guilty for putting so much stress on Kibum, and in turn, Jonghyun. It's unfair. The feeling twists his gut even tighter, and he doesn't like how it puts him on edge.
As Taemin's mingling with the steady flow of students exiting the school gates, he hears a familiar voice--that deep chuckle--and looks over to see Minho standing with a few people, dressed in a thick sweater, basketball shorts, and muddy cleats. He's facing away from Taemin, so all he can see are the bland faces of a few of his classmates.
"You know you can't keep it a secret forever." says one, "How the fuck did you get coach to let you back on the team?"
"Magic." Minho replies with some dismissive motion. "You coming to practice?"
"No way, you must be from old money or some shit. You get away with everything. And no, duh, Sunyoung's going to be there. I'm skipping."
"You shouldn't let a girl terrorize you like that." Minho replies, and moves to cross the street, clearly headed towards the soccer field.
Taemin hasn't realized he's stopped walking. Students pass in front of him and he blinks, trying to look less obvious. And since when was Minho in any position to give advice? Especially advice like that.
Without thinking, Taemin follows him, keeping his distance and hiding a good few paces behind a group of girls headed in the same direction. He pauses at the bleachers, hovering about the mounds of melting snow that had been pushed out of the field. Minho has disappeared into the locker rooms and Taemin considers creeping around the grandstand or climbing up to find a seat. He might as well, since he stalked him all the way out here.
The thought curiosity kills the cat crosses his mind, but he pushes it aside and flips his hoodie over his face, hoping to disguise himself, choosing a middle bleacher and sitting huddled against the railed edge.
He flinches when a feminine voice calls out, "Are you here to watch too?"
The three girls Taemin had followed are sitting directly in the middle, a few rows beneath him. The tallest one waves, motioning for him to join them. "Uhm," he says.
"Who are you?" she asks point blank. "Are you planning to try out for the team?" she motions for him to come down again, but Taemin resolutely stays where he is.
"He's too scrawny for that." her friend pipes in.
"I think it's cute." the third girl replies, busy redoing her ponytail.
"You would." says the bossy girl. "You're into those pretty boy types anyway."
The windchill cuts through Taemin, who can't help but listen in on their conversation even though he's clearly already been dismissed from it. He keeps a hawk-like eye on the locker rooms though, tucking cold hands into his loose sleeves.
"Like you're any different!" the girl flips her done-up hair in annoyed retaliation. "Listening to you go on and on about Minho-oppa~" she purposely pitches her voice into an obnoxious whine. Taemin can't help but wince.
"Yah!" the taller girl yells, "You're such a bitch, Sunyoungie." she says, "Scratch that, whore!"
"Shut up," the quieter one, who Taemin reasons is the more level-headed of the three, snaps, "He doesn't even bother with you anymore. Why do you constantly have to bring him up?"
The defensive girl, Sunyoung, purses her lips into a put off moue. "Don't look at me like that."
"He's got to be seeing someone if he's ignoring you of all people. He must have found a sexier girl."
Sunyoung's face contorts into an annoyed frown. "So what. We just hook up every now and then, it's not like we're dating."
A million thoughts are racing through Taemin's mind, but they all point to one thing: he shouldn't be surprised. It's not like Minho tried to hide it, but what would he know? Minho never tells him anything--he always has to hear it from a third, and in this case, entirely random party.
"Whatever, unnie," the quieter girl titters. "Who was it that said you were a match made in heaven?"
"Seeing as you're both totally blind to other people's feelings--"
"Accuse me all you want," says Sunyoung, sitting up in order to gain momentum and push her friend off the bleacher. "But don't get your hopes up."
"That's right, he doesn't do relationships."
"That's what he told me." Sunyoung shoots back. "Stop bothering me about it. If you're so curious, ask him yourself. Oh--they're starting!"
Taemin looks to the field when she points, but with nowhere near the amount of enthusiasm the girls below him do. Curiosity doesn't so much kill the cat as maim it, he thinks dejectedly. He stews on Sunyoung's misfired advice though, thinking she's kind of right--even though he had always known, or always had that feeling, that Minho wasn't exactly exclusive to him.
Minho wasn't his.
The thought hits him like a speeding freight train. He sits through the thirty minutes of Minho's soccer practice staring stunned, watching the skill Minho exudes even on icy ground, the graceful way he moves, how obvious his passion for soccer is. It's the only honest thing Taemin thinks he's ever seen from Minho.
Their practice is unfortunately cut short by looming clouds and a threatening crackle of thunder. Taemin hops the bleachers and zips under them when the rain starts to fall without a second warning, heavy and freezing. It's so thick he can barely see, and he holds out his hand, feeling the tiny, icy drops hit against his upturned palm. The small awning over the grandstand keeps him relatively dry, and so he resigns himself to wait it out, or at least wait until Minho reappears.
It doesn't take long before team members start dashing out of the locker room with or without umbrellas, making a run for the roofed bus stop across the street. Taemin picks up a small rock and aims when he sees Minho, prays that for once his luck will pull through, and chucks it. Success. Major success--it bounces off Minho's shoulder and has him spinning around, a wide-eyed look gracing his usually stoic face.
Taemin doesn't wave, he just stands under the bleachers, fists gripped around his lengthy sleeves to keep his fingers warm.
"Taemin-ah?" Minho goes over to him, tipping the umbrella over his head as well. "Why are you out here?"
"I came to watch you practice." Taemin blurts out before he can stop himself, finishing lamely with, "And I forgot my umbrella."
"In this weather?" Minho sounds close to incredulous. Taemin's face heats up in flustered annoyance. Minho adds, teasingly, "You shouldn't have."
"You're right." Taemin replies, pushing the bar of Minho's umbrella away from its lean to cover him as well. Something's getting close to snapping inside of him, and he's speaking without thinking, all in an angry rush. "It's not like you bothered to come to any of mine."
"If this is about yesterday--"
"About it?" Taemin cuts him off. "So you knew?"
"I would have gone." Minho bites his lip, brows furrowed.
"Liar." exclaims Taemin, "You didn't!" He's not sure why he's so upset about it, when he hadn't planned on inviting Minho in the first place. He hadn't wanted Minho to see him like that. But now things are different, and he's not sure why.
"Something came up." Minho looks like he wants to say more, but he stops. "But I really would have gone, and that's the surprising part." he's stepping into Taemin's space, forcing him further into the shadow of the bleachers.
"Surprising?" Taemin huffs out a disdainful laugh. "Why should I believe you?"
Minho reaches out and threads his fingers through Taemin's hair, brushing it out of his face rather gently. He looses a frustrated sigh. "Your hair is getting long."
"Don't--" Taemin stutters, pushes Minho's hand away from his face. "Don't change the subject."
Minho laughs. "You're going to make me say it. I can't believe you of all people--"
He's cut off when his phone starts to trill, a plain ringtone that makes his face go rather pale. Taemin's never seen such a distraught expression on him before, and it's kind of numbing.
Minho answers his phone, turning his face away from Taemin. "Why are you calling me," he greets rudely, "No, it's raining. What do you think?" a short pause. "I am busy. ... Is it really that important? ... Alright, fine. ... Fine. Just keep them occupied. ... Do I have to give you step by step instructions? ... Don't threaten him, dipshit. Just wait for me, I'm on my way." he snaps his phone shut with a look of disgust.
"Was that," Taemin ventures to ask, "Your father?"
Minho barks out a laugh. "Fuck no. My father isn't so green." he says, but that meaning is entirely lost on Taemin. Minho leans in to his level, meeting him eye to eye. They're so close that Taemin can feel his breath. "Hey," he says.
"Hey," Taemin replies, and as much as he wishes he weren't, he's somewhat dizzy.
"Are you free tonight?" he asks.
Taemin considers his lack of curfew now that he's more or less staying with Kibum. Rino had canceled dance practice for the next three days to give everybody a much needed rest, as well. "Maybe." he decides, not wanting to give Minho an easy time.
"Come over. Can you make it around eight?"
Taemin closes his eyes, expectant. "I said maybe, didn't I?"
Minho pulls away instead of leaning forward and closing the limited distance between them. He hands Taemin his umbrella. "Return this for me, then." he says, all knowing eyes and provocative smiles. Before Taemin can even reply, he's running out into the rain, holding his bag above his head and heading for the bus just rolling into the stop.
Taemin holds the large umbrella above him and looks up, counting the small holes littered throughout. The ones Minho had fictitiously blamed the sleet for a few weeks ago. They are more like slits, as if a knife have been taken to it or something.
Strange. Taemin shakes the umbrella and steps out into the downpour. His imagination is just too much sometimes.
He opts to walk home, since the next bus wouldn't be arriving for thirty minutes, and is glad the rain lets up before his uniform pants get too soaked. He unlocks his door and leans against it once it's shut, staring into a home that no longer feels like his. He almost steps on the mail that had been shoved through the slot, stooping down to pick up a single, pale blue envelope. Oddly enough, it's addressed to him.
Taemin fumbles with the letter, removing its contents and unfolding the paper within. He recognizes the insignia for Seoul International Dance and his heart almost stops in his chest. It's a small KNUA scholarship, informing him that he had also been chosen to attend the exclusive audition for the academy. Taemin sinks to the floor, focusing on keeping his breathing even.
He had never seen this coming. He's performed a number of times in a number of theatres, so why now? Taemin carefully folds the letter and puts it back into the envelope, stuffing it into his backpack. He's glad he had gotten to the letter before his mother, he thinks, because he's sure she's not too happy with his pursuit of dance as a career. He quickly packs only what he needs, grabs Minho's discarded umbrella and his backpack, and locks the door behind him. Something about the deed seems freeing almost, but he pushes that thought out of his mind and rushes the few blocks down to Kibum's house, pounding on the door relentlessly.
Kibum greets him with, "Holy shit, is the world ending outside, no need to sound so desperate."
"It might as well be, with this weather." Taemin plays along, only relaxing when he steps into Kibum's flat.
"What took you so long?" Kibum asks, not waiting for a reply. "Are you feeling okay? You should eat something. You look a little pale."
Taemin hadn't known Kibum had such a systematic way of living, even down to how he dealt with affording food: Taemin had only just noticed Kibum didn't have a fridge. He voices this instead of answering.
"Not worth it." Kibum shrugs, "All the fridge I need is that way." and he points to the convenience store outside the propped front door, down across the street.
Taemin stares down at the small store, lights buzzing twenty-four hours. From where he stands, he can see a girl around his age at the counter, flipping through a teen magazine with little interest. He'd been there a few times, with Kibum, or to pick something up on his way home from Kibum's. But this time, she's familiar. That Sunyoung girl from the bleachers. Taemin closes his eyes and quickly turns away--the absurdity of his life continues to astound him.
"I'll try to be useful." he offers, digging through his pocket to find the change. He hasn't spent much of the money Minho gave him. Maybe it's due to guilt, but Taemin doesn't like to think about that. "I can pitch in. Do you want anything?"
"A new job." Kibum calls from where he'd disappeared into the bathroom, emerging in the clerk's uniform of the grand hotel he'd been working at for the past few months. "Are you sure about that?" he eyes the money Taemin pulls out of his wallet. "Since when were you carrying around double digits!"
Taemin gives him a distraught look. "It's only 50,000W."
"You are an outrage." Kibum exclaims, rolling his eyes. "Explain." he adds, looking from the money to Taemin with inimically raised eyebrows. "You're not doing something shady, are you?"
"No!" Taemin turns red at the thought, and for obvious reasons, Krystal pops into mind. He pouts. "You have no right to say that to me."
"Don't be precarious." Kibum shoots back coolly. "I just worked under the table at a bar." he plops onto the couch beside Taemin. "When I was fifteen."
Taemin giggles. He can't help it. "Is that all?"
"May I remind you that the grace of my heart only extends so far," Kibum pushes him off the couch with his foot. "I am not the Grinch who stole Christmas."
"Fine, I'll tell you." Taemin sniffs, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the floor. "Minho gave it to me."
Kibum's curious face falls a little flat. "Everything he does pisses me off."
"Hyung," Taemin is mildly offended, but he has nothing to follow up his whiny tone with. Kibum unpockets his cigarettes and lights one, giving Taemin an expectant once over. So Taemin caves, because Kibum's not going to settle for such an open-ended story, and retells what had happened at the bar a few days ago.
"It sounds to me," Kibum exhales smoke out the screen of his balcony, "Like you are both too stubborn for your own good."
"Thanks." Taemin says, deadpan.
"You're welcome." Kibum replies, mimicking his tone. "As hopeless as you are, Minho's probably just as bad. Honestly, you need to figure out your own shit before bothering with his. Because it's obvious Minho has a lot of shit. Like an ocean's worth. Yours is no pond, either."
Taemin sinks against the couch in wan digression. "What is that even supposed to mean."
"You tell me." Kibum knocks a hand on Taemin's head just as the alarm on his phone goes off, informing him he needs to leave for work. "Gotta dip. I'll just catch dinner uptown, so you fend for yourself. Spare key is on the coffee table." He leaves then, and Taemin stares at the key and then at the door, and says to thin air, "Ramyun it is." Whatever his shit is, Taemin muses, he'll deal with later.
He slips on his shoes and crosses the street to the convenience store, browsing all the aisles just to stall from having to go to the cashier. Eventually, he picks out the flavor of ramyun he wants and dumps it on the counter. Sunyoung looks at his selection with an air of boredom, then up at him. She gasps and points. "You again!" she says.
"Er," Taemin's not sure what to say to that. He had been hoping she wouldn't recognize him with his hair pulled back and out of uniform.
"Don't tell me," she says, "You room with Kibum? He practically lives here. Ah," she points at him, "That's why you were familiar!"
"I guess so." Taemin replies quietly. There's no way he can feel comfortable around her. Even though it was wrong of him to eavesdrop, he can't just pretend he doesn't know.
"So why were you at practice?" she asks, taking an ungodly amount of time to ring up the ramyun and bottle of water. "It's true though, you know, you're too spare for the team."
Taemin stares at her, taken aback. "No," he says, struck by poorly-timed boldness. "I was there to watch Minho." he immediately regrets it when Sunyoung gives him a stark look.
"So you're queer too, then?" she says glibly, "Oppa's not like that."
"What would you know?" Taemin snaps back. He's genuinely offended, and the light bruise on his cheek stings against the sore set of his jaw.
"A lot, actually." she replies, seemingly unfazed. "It doesn't matter, even if you were a girl, Minho's a playboy. He doesn't get serious for anyone. You should just give up on him. Your total's 3,400W."
"Are you speaking from experience?" Taemin taunts, shoving the cash out towards her mechanically.
She takes it, ringing it through with a sour expression. "What do you think." she says flatly.
Taemin doesn't wait for her to bag the items, too annoyed to even give her a proper response. He stomps back to Kibum's flat and lets himself in with the spare key, flinging himself onto the couch. He considers screaming into the cushions, thinks better of it, instead holding his breath for as long as he possibly can. He looses a huge sigh when he rolls over, staring up at Kibum's retro analog clock.
7:32pm. He considers standing Minho up. His eyes wander to the plain umbrella, then to the ramyun he'd discarded on the coffee table.
"Fuck it." he snaps suddenly, rustling his hair madly and jumping to his feet. He grabs Minho's umbrella and locks the door behind him again, speed walking to the stop.
Whatever Minho's after tonight, thinks Taemin, he's not going to get until he tells the truth.
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note; Sorry for any grammar errors, I have a tendency to overlook them when I haven't slept all night long. >o>;;
KNAU: Korean National University of the Arts. Seoul International Dance is also known as SIDance. I don't know how the systems work, how scholarships work, or how auditioning works, so I just winged it. （；￣ェ￣）
Uh, I have no idea if there is an equivalent to old money in Korea. I'm assuming there is.
I decided to use Luna's Korean name... because it seemed more normal, and she's not really an important character in the story ~ and I tried to make them seem kind of like the bitchy girls in drama and shit, but what would I know, I honestly don't watch drama. So if I failed, sorry! xD
Real hot timez in next chapter, I promise, pinky and all! ♥