a different kind of crazy (2min)
TITLE A Different Kind of Crazy 16/20
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 15
a different kind of crazy;
Taemin arrives at Minho's house several minutes late, and feels like a total hoser, having an intense moment of questioning out in the cold. Minho opens the door right when Taemin's about to knock again, and he ushers Taemin out the entry way, stepping out himself and closing the door behind him.
"We're going out." he states simply, locking the door. When he turns and sees Taemin, he lets out a disgruntled laugh. He's dressed nicely compared to Taemin's baggy pants and offbrand hoodie. "You really have no hope for me, do you?"
"What?" Taemin replies in his defense, pulling out the pockets of his harem pants absently. "You didn't tell me we were going somewhere."
"I was thinking samgyupsal. I know of a good family-owned place nearby."
Taemin's struck rather silent. "Is this a date?"
"No," Minho drawls, watches the expression on Taemin's face change, then chortles again. He takes Taemin's hand and pulls it into his jacket pocket with his. "How about now?"
They walk, linked hands comfortably hidden from curious passersby. Taemin can't help but think back to the first day Minho had kissed him, so bluntly said "I like you," then guided Taemin by the hand all the way to his bus stop. How had it all gotten so complicated, he wonders.
Minho is greeted by the shop owner when they enter the small restaurant. "Minho-ssi!" says the elderly man, an overly pleasant smile on his face. "I hope you're not here to collect!"
Minho laughs. "It's almost Christmas--come on, cut me some slack."
"You're so much more understanding than your father."
Minho's smile falters, and he picks up the menu, flipping it open to hide his face. "Just don't take that for granted." he jokes darkly.
The chef looks conflicted, unsure of whether to cringe or continue his blinding beam of a smile. Taemin just watches the ordeal in confused silence.
Minho blinks, unaffected by the awkward atmosphere he had created. "You know what we're here for," he says with charm, "And a bottle of baekseju."
"It's on the house." the owner smiles, a bit shyly, giving a short bow and returning to the kitchen.
"This place is really something," Minho starts up smalltalk, nonchalantly skimming the menu.
"What was that?" Taemin asks belatedly.
Minho looks up. "Hmm?" he hums. "Was what?"
"That." Taemin fails to elaborate, gesturing vaguely towards the owner, busy assisting the young chef behind the counter.
Minho's eyes take on a cagey gleam and his lips thin into a straight line, though the menu covers most of his face. "He owes my dad some money. That's all."
Taemin's not sure he believes him. "And I'm too young to drink."
Minho flips the menu down from his face. "Who said the seju was for you?"
Taemin kicks him under the table.
"Ow," says Minho, "You want to tell me you're too young to drink? I doubt you're so naive."
Taemin recalls that Minho had seen him at that party. He had almost forgotten about that. "I blame Kibum-hyung for everything."
"Rightly so." Minho replies, adding at Taemin's offended glare, "In my humble opinion."
They lapse into a pregnant silence. Taemin really wants to bring up all he'd overheard at the bleachers today, really wants to ask Minho to halter his dark horse, so to speak, and to just be honest with him. Or bust. Or something less retarded and more convincing.
"Is this a date?" Taemin blurts again instead, all raised eyebrows and calculating stare.
Minho stares back at him. "I thought we read and turned that page already."
Taemin frowns across at him. "Then I really do have no hope for you."
The waitress arrives with their order then, interrupting Minho before he can speak. As he's pouring the alcohol he says, "You're something else, you know that?"
"Yeah," Taemin rolls his eyes, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I am. What about it?"
Minho grins, a little lopsided. A slightly diffident tone overrides his voice. "You've gotten to me."
"That's it?" Taemin says, struck by his second round of boldness for the day.
Minho looks a little defeated. "What I'm trying to say is," he starts loading up his slice of lettuce, digging into the meat with distracting gusto. He stops suddenly, loosing a heavy sigh, and locks eyes with Taemin. "I want to get serious with you."
Taemin stares aghast at Minho, completely shocked. Twice in one night, Minho's blown the fundamentals of Taemin's reality to shit.
"Is that what you say to all of them?" Taemin forces himself to stay rational, stay calm. "Or am I just unlucky?"
"All of them?" Minho repeats, looking taken aback.
"I've heard the rumors," Taemin says warily, seeing his chance to confront him. "You hook up with whoever, you don't get serious, you do whatever you want--"
"Aren't you the same way?" Minho asks, and it's the lack of accusation in his tone, and the total confusion that sets Taemin off. He flusters.
"I'm--" he starts, "I'm not like you at all! All this time, it's only been you." Realizing what he's said, he starts to compensante, "I mean--"
"I haven't fucked around since I met you, if that's what you mean. I haven't bothered with people like I have with you in ages." Minho cuts him off coolly. Taemin's already feeling the small bits of his appetite drifting away. "You're in my head all the time, even when I don't want you there, and frankly, it's driving me fucking crazy."
"How reassuring." Taemin says hotly, poking his chopsticks at the samgyupsal with disdain.
"Think about it," Minho propositions, shoving his finished preparation towards Taemin, who takes it only because Minho won't stop waving it around his face. Taemin makes a distraught expression despite his chewing. Minho's already busy holding up two shots of seju next, handing one to him. "I know you're good at that."
Taemin downs his shot without waiting for Minho and slams the small glass down, gagging slightly at the taste. "I'm not cheery. And I don't want to think about it."
"Then at least enjoy the free food." Taemin doesn't miss the bewildered expression on Minho's face, or the way it makes him feel. His stomach's already feeling a little warm and fuzzy from the shot he had taken. Minho urges him to eat, though he's more focused on the alcohol than the food. Taemin watches each shot he takes, one after the other, as if he's trying to get drunk so as to not have to deal with what Taemin's starting to think he knows is coming. It's not like Taemin is trying to slow him down, either, or himself for that matter.
"Why won't you just tell me?" Taemin might as well get it out there, then. "There's something--not right about you."
"What about you?" Minho shoots back, motioning to his head like he's implying Taemin's crazy or something. "Vague tendencies and all."
"I don't do it on purpose!" Taemin pouts at him, tempted to throw his nearly finished wrap at Minho's uppity face.
"And who said I do?" Minho replies evenly, leaned in to their conversation. "You can blame me for whatever you want, but who's the one being honest right now?"
In order not to stutter something rude or unnecessary--honestly, Minho's gone and done it again--Taemin's got nothing to come back with, he grabs the half-empty bottle of seju and pours himself another shot, throwing it back like a pro. Minho even whistles and claps, egging him on.
"If you're being so honest, then tell me what it is I'm better off not knowing," Taemin lays it down, meeting Minho halfway across the small table.
Minho sits back against the chair, breaking their intense conversation. "Did Krystal put you up to this?"
"Is there something you're not telling her, too?" Taemin crosses his arms. "You said it yourself, you know."
Minho snorts, "Krystal knows everything, in context of course, and I'm surprised she hasn't scared you away yet, honestly."
"Maybe she would be more open with me." Taemin bites his lip, not liking the edgy sound he's picking up from Minho's voice.
Minho holds his challenging glance for a long moment before relenting, putting his hands up in lieu of defeat. "I can't." he says, "Put it together if you want, dig up all my dirt, whatever, but that's a line I'm not willing to cross."
"Why?" Taemin's feeling the alcohol now, and he doesn't know what's so funny, but he's giggling a little, like this whole scene is just some scripted bullshit. He wishes it were true. "Scared?"
"For you, maybe." Minho frowns, pouring out the last of the seju. "There's a reason. But you wouldn't believe me, because you don't even trust me, and I can't say I blame you."
"Then I guess nothing's going to change, is it?" Taemin stares at the distorted reflection of his small shotglass.
"That's up to you." Minho says, holds up his drink. "Entirely up to you."
Okay, Taemin thinks, smiles a little past the warm burn of alcohol in his mostly empty stomach. No change is good change, isn't it? Sounds good to him, for now at least. He has his own shit to get together in the meantime, and if Minho can't be open with him, there is no foundation for a deeper relationship to begin with.
Which is okay, right? So why does he feel even more confused than before?
Taemin wants to dedicate his current drunken stupor to Kibum, because it would be unfair to blame him, but he has to give him credit--he had introduced Taemin to aclohol (quite forcibly), after all. He's even surprised at himself for being so forward with Minho, pushing impatiently at his jacket once they're back at his house, tripping through the door and yanking Minho's head the small distance down to kiss him, humming against his lips. Minho's calloused palms dance up and down Taemin's sides, eventually slipping up his hoodie, depositing it on his bedroom floor.
"I should get you drunk more often." Minho chuckles, bouncing on the bed when Taemin shoves him, straddling his lap.
"You shouldn't take advantage of me." Taemin quips in response, grinding boldy down against Minho.
"Who's taking advantage of who?" says Minho, grabbing Taemin's thighs to help anchor him. "Maybe you should calm down and think about what you're doing. You haven't even given me a reply yet."
"Are you serious?" Taemin huffs, but he stops wiggling, content to just sit on Minho's legs. "Irony intended." he adds in inebriated afterthought.
"I have to be." Taemin can't tell if Minho's teasing or not. "After all, I don't take no for an answer."
Taemin flops onto the bed before sitting up and throwing his legs over the bottom edge. Think about it, huh? Taemin has to be honest, he's been spacey because he's been avoiding confronting anything--everything. He turns to look out Minho's window as an excuse to not look at him, but he's met with wood. "Why is your window all boarded up?"
"Long story." Minho replies, standing up and shrugging his jacket off before coming to stand in front of Taemin, shirtless and inviting. Taemin's tipsy mind is charging a million miles per minute towards overwhelmed, and it doesn't help when he falls back against the bed when Minho teasingly pushes him, and a sudden searing pain rakes up his arm. He cries out, jerking away.
"Hey--" Minho begins, startled, and sees the littering of long, threatening nails scattered along the edge of his bed. It's a bloody mess in seconds, Taemin holding his forearm close to his wrist, trying to keep it from staining Minho's sheets. He looks up at Minho, eyes glazy. "Fuck." Taemin sees a flash of recognition in Minho's eyes, but at what, he has no idea. "Are you--"
Whatever it was that had been close to snapping inside Taemin breaks now, and he doesn't even bother to try holding it back. His tears are fat and salty, the kind where incoherency takes a shit all over his bodily functions, shaking him with emotion alone. He doesn't cry because of the pain--the pain had just been the key to unlock all the stress inside of him. He could blame Minho, his mother, anyone he wants, but the worst part is that it all points back to him. It's his choices, and his fault, in the end, and he knows it.
So this is it, Taemin strings together through his hysterics, he might as well be having a mental breakdown.
He jumps when he feels Minho gently prying his hand away from his own harsh grip, dressing the puncture and applying pressure to get it to stop bleeding. Minho doesn't try to stop him crying, just lets him get it out of his system. "My father's convinced himself that boarding up my window will solve a number of my problems--" Minho starts, biting his lip when he pulls away the stained tissue. "He probably left the nails lying around on purpose."
Taemin sniffs, hitting his forehead against Minho's shoulder. He's not expecting it when Minho presses him into his chest, and Taemin breathes in the scent of tobacco and subtle aftershave. It calms him down, and he's glad he skips the hiccupping stage, becaue that would have just been beyond embarassing. "Who in their right mind would do something like that."
Minho shrugs. "I really wouldn't put it past him. He's the type who really believes violence is the answer." he says, pulling Taemin away so they can look eye to eye. "So, keep pressure on that. I'll be right back."
Taemin examines the blood beeding and then sliding slowly down his wrist, wondering how sore it would be in a few hours, and how anyone's father could be so fucking crazy. Violence? he thinks, it's more like child abuse. Really poorly thought out and unfortunately effective child abuse. He sniffs again, biting back another tempting wave of hysterics.
He doesn't move when Minho returns, letting his nerves relax and Minho treat his wrist without a word. When Minho's done, he finally says, "I'm sorry about all this."
"Sorry about all what?" Taemin snorts defensively. "I wasn't crying over the nail."
Minho grins up at him. "Don't worry, what happens in this room stays in this room."
Taemin kicks him over without mercy, successfully landing him off the bed, but Minho grabs him before he has a chance to retaliate, wary of his injured wrist, and yanks him down with him, pressing him close to his side. "And I've suddenly lost the will to move." he anounces loudly.
"I'm the one who just had a mental breakdown." Taemin complains, because Minho is kind of heavy when he's smothering him.
"Do you want to have a competition on crazy? In this household?"
Taemin's breath catches when Minho turns to his face, lips brushing against his ear whenever he talks. "You already know I'm a very competitive person." he says, then bites Taemin's ear. His hand is already working up Taemin's shirt to expose his stomach, pushing the fabric up to his collar bones so his fingers have unobstructed roam of Taemin's white skin.
He props himself on one elbow, shifting against Taemin.
"I thought," Taemin gasps when Minho pinches his one exposed nipple, "You had no will to move."
"What can I say," Minho rolls fully on top of Taemin, pressing their clothed erections together, "You just move me."
Taemin kisses Minho then, mostly to shut him up, and pushes up against Minho, too tired to do too much work. Minho moves against him, nothing but their speeding hearts to serenade them as they bring each other to climax, Taemin coming with a muffled gasp against Minho's shoulder, Minho following him with a quiet moan. He kisses Taemin once, gently, and it catches him off guard. But it's nice. He'd admit it's nice.
He stares across the room at Minho's plain dresser, tired and sated. "You know, my mom," he starts, not sure why he's even telling Minho, but he presses on, "My mom, when she saw me at my recital, she got really angry because I had to take Sulli's place and dance pointe, like a girl. I didn't really want to, but the whole school was relying on me to make an impression on the sponsors...
"I think she's always known, before I did, that I'm--" he stops, trying to find the word, "--different. I'm glad you didn't come, honestly. I kind of regret agreeing to it." he forces himself to sit up, not wanting to look at Minho in fear of what his expression might betray.
"Was it what you wanted to do?" Minho asks him, watching him gather his shirt and hoodie, readying to leave.
"What?" Taemin pauses, his shirt halfway over his head, yanking it the rest of the way down impatiently. "Of course it was."
"Then your mom doesn't matter." Minho shrugs, getting up and dunking Taemin's hoodie over his head, helping him push his arms through the inside out sleeves. "It's that simple."
"For you, maybe." Taemin mirrors Minho's words, not sure if he likes how they feel rolling across his tongue. "She's never hit me before," Taemin looks up at him after he pulls his head through his hoodie. "And I don't think she wants me to come home. She hasn't called or anything." what Taemin really wants to say is, "What do I do?" but those words are far, far from him. Like Minho would have the appropriate answer, anyway.
"You're welcome over here whenever you want." Minho says immediately. "My father's in Pusan until New Years."
Taemin's honestly a little touched, but he hides it by saying, "Clean up any hazards first, next time."
Minho gives Taemin that slightly lopsided smile again, and he's starting to think it might be something he should appreciate--it seems to be the most real thing he's witnessed about Minho yet.
Taemin catches the bus and texts Krystal, hoping she's somehow availabe. He feels like she is the one person he can go to about Minho who actually has insider information, whatever that means.
received 12:40am
Krystal: i always have time, at the usual k?
The Usual. Fifteen minutes later Taemin is surprised to discover that slipping Krystal's name does grant him unquestioned access. But he doesn't see her. His phone dings as if on cue.
received 12:53am
Krystal: find me in the br babe （⌒▽⌒）
Taemin scoots down the slim hallway he had followed Minho down days before, trying his best to be inconspicuous, and Krystal opens the girl's restroom door before he can knock, pulling him into the hot pink room with an overly fancy lionclaw chair and false gold sinks, chipping from use. "So?" she says without greeting him, flipping the lock on the teal painted door. "Spill, spill. You know I'm all about the tongue."
Taemin sighs, used to Krystal's way with words. She has a variety of makeups, a hair curler, and a straightener scattered about.
"Minho said he wanted to get serious." Taemin sits on the chair always present in single unit bathrooms, as nonsensical as it was. He firmly believes Krystal is the only girl he could be locked in a bathroom with and not feel awkward about. She's humming and fixing her makeup in the vintage mirror.
Krystal stops humming, and pauses to frown at her reflection. "Let me guess," she says, "Then he takes you down the street to eat out. Then later on, when he takes you home, you're really feeling it, and he says, "Don't you want to take it slow?" or some bullshit like that. Which is frustrating, isn't it?"
Taemin is wide-eyed. "Did he tell you?"
"Tell me?" Krystal laughs. "He doesn't tell people shit. I'm just psychic." Taemin's not buying it--he knows Krystal better by now. Krystal laughs again. "Minho's extremely predictable when he thinks he's in love."
"Thinks?" repeats Taemin.
Krystal purses her lips, then crowds him by the chair, stooping over him just to be a menace. "Minho's been serious a grand total of three times." she says, leering at Taemin like she's telling some ghost story. "Every one has ended in blood or tears, most of the time both."
"Were you one of those three times?" Taemin can't help but ask.
"Fuck yeah I was." Krystal snorts, as if proud. "It's a long story," she says, "But in that case, it ended when I beat the shit out of him." she pulls away, leaning against the sink. "You should try it sometime, it's a great stress reliever."
Taemin decides he won't tell her he already sort of has--but he has to wonder how literal Krystal's being. She turns back to the mirror, her curling iron finally warm enough to use. "So, you told him yes?"
"No," Taemin looks down at his hands in his lap. "I didn't."
Krystal pauses in her reach to curl her hair and this time, she actually looks surprised. "Shut the front door," she guffaws, "You actually rejected him?"
"Uhm, I guess." Taemin hadn't thought it was a difficult question, really. He doesn't trust Minho, not very much, and it's not exactly like he's very stable himself right now, either.
"You are the only person who periodically leaves me speechless." Krystal states, focusing instead on pressing the last tiny piece of her false eyelashes into place. "You might actually have a chance with Minho--or should I say, he might have a chance with you."
Taemin fiddles with his phone, feeling oddly self-conscious. "What are you getting at?"
Krystal waves her eyelash curler at him. "Your environment affects your personality." she says wisely. "And vice versa, but that's not the point. It's Minho's upbringing--or lack thereof--that's made him the way he is. But you seem to be changing that."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Taemin frowns.
"In the long run?" Krystal pauses in her preening and looks at him for a short while. "I honestly don't have an answer for you this time." She puts her makeups back in the case and dumps it into her purse. "Growing up in a crime family like this is almost anachronistic. Minho shut himself away in order to protect himself. Eunsook did too, but she's basically perfect, so she's already overcome that."
Wait. Hold up. What? Taemin so had no been expecting that. "Are you saying," he goes slowly, "Minho's involved with the jopok? And Eunsook?"
Krystal bites her lip. "Oops?" she says to thin air. "Yeah, I totally thought you knew that already. Well, I've said too much, so a little more won't hurt. I'll just say you twisted my arm for information." she grins at him, teasing. "Unnie's family is kind of influential underground. I work for them, and so does Minho's father, and Minho's the leader of their youth group. I'm sure that clears up a lot of pointless confusion on Minho's end, doesn't it? Really, that boy should thank me for all the shit I do for him."
"He didn't want to tell me." Taemin admits, sinking further into the chair. He feels kind of bad for poking around in business that clearly wasn't his, now. He never would have guessed, ever, not even with the blaring warning signs such as that odd phonecall and the terrified spark on the restaraunt owner's smile.
"Of course he didn't." Krystal crouches down beside him, putting a hand on his knee and looking up at his downcast face. Something feels off about the entire ordeal, like Krystal had known he hadn't known and had just been waiting for the right moment to bomb him with all this unbelievable shit. "I did say blood and tears before, didn't I? I was being literal."
She waits a tick before laughing. "That last part was a joke, oppa. You should know me better by now. I have an appointment, though, so I do need to be going."
Taemin grabs the hem of her skirt before she can leave. "What about you?" he asks, wide-eyed in his shock. "How do you cope with it?"
"I took the easy way out." she says with a smile and a thick-lashed wink. "Can anybody say 'I smell sex and candy ~ here'!" she sings out in bad English.
Taemin bites his lip. "I worry about you."
"Oh please," Krystal pinches his arm, unlocking the door and stepping out. "Leave the worrying to me. You're the one who needs it."
previous | next
note; This long-ass chapter gave me a lot of shit, but I had a lot of time to work on it because I am SICK AND DYING. Flus are the worst, and I blame my roommate for everything even though it is my fault because we share everything, drinks, food, cigarettes, he might as well be my co-joined twin. What I'd like to know is why I got SICKER than that skinny as fuck bastard. RAGEEEE.
So who saw that coming? Did anybody have an inkling? Besides xfwankiex, she wins the internet for mentioning it. ♥
Honestly not too proud of this chapter, or how the shit hit the fan. I seem to be bad at writing climaxes, I guess I need to work on that. And true story on the nail thing. I fell on one when I was rearranging my room and my thigh started like gushing blood and it wouldn't stop for a good twenty minutes. Nails are evil.
I am jacked up on nyquil so don't trust my grammar/typo skills right now. :P But the jopok, which has other names idgaf about, is pretty much the Korean version of yakuza or mafia. Same shit, different day.
Relient K's Mmhmm album is still the shit, fuck their nonsecular praise Jesus tendencies. My dirty secret guilty pleasure forever, ok. Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet.
Also, seju is nasty. People tell me it's just like soju, but it's not. It's nasty. It's dealable if you plug your nose and throw the shot to the back of your throat, and a few shots on a mildly empty stomach have you feeling good in no time, but it's honestly not worth the taste. IDG why they only sell seju at the noraebang I go to, when soju is clearly 10000x better. Whatevs. Baekseju is more traditional or something, it seems.
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 15
a different kind of crazy;
Taemin arrives at Minho's house several minutes late, and feels like a total hoser, having an intense moment of questioning out in the cold. Minho opens the door right when Taemin's about to knock again, and he ushers Taemin out the entry way, stepping out himself and closing the door behind him.
"We're going out." he states simply, locking the door. When he turns and sees Taemin, he lets out a disgruntled laugh. He's dressed nicely compared to Taemin's baggy pants and offbrand hoodie. "You really have no hope for me, do you?"
"What?" Taemin replies in his defense, pulling out the pockets of his harem pants absently. "You didn't tell me we were going somewhere."
"I was thinking samgyupsal. I know of a good family-owned place nearby."
Taemin's struck rather silent. "Is this a date?"
"No," Minho drawls, watches the expression on Taemin's face change, then chortles again. He takes Taemin's hand and pulls it into his jacket pocket with his. "How about now?"
They walk, linked hands comfortably hidden from curious passersby. Taemin can't help but think back to the first day Minho had kissed him, so bluntly said "I like you," then guided Taemin by the hand all the way to his bus stop. How had it all gotten so complicated, he wonders.
Minho is greeted by the shop owner when they enter the small restaurant. "Minho-ssi!" says the elderly man, an overly pleasant smile on his face. "I hope you're not here to collect!"
Minho laughs. "It's almost Christmas--come on, cut me some slack."
"You're so much more understanding than your father."
Minho's smile falters, and he picks up the menu, flipping it open to hide his face. "Just don't take that for granted." he jokes darkly.
The chef looks conflicted, unsure of whether to cringe or continue his blinding beam of a smile. Taemin just watches the ordeal in confused silence.
Minho blinks, unaffected by the awkward atmosphere he had created. "You know what we're here for," he says with charm, "And a bottle of baekseju."
"It's on the house." the owner smiles, a bit shyly, giving a short bow and returning to the kitchen.
"This place is really something," Minho starts up smalltalk, nonchalantly skimming the menu.
"What was that?" Taemin asks belatedly.
Minho looks up. "Hmm?" he hums. "Was what?"
"That." Taemin fails to elaborate, gesturing vaguely towards the owner, busy assisting the young chef behind the counter.
Minho's eyes take on a cagey gleam and his lips thin into a straight line, though the menu covers most of his face. "He owes my dad some money. That's all."
Taemin's not sure he believes him. "And I'm too young to drink."
Minho flips the menu down from his face. "Who said the seju was for you?"
Taemin kicks him under the table.
"Ow," says Minho, "You want to tell me you're too young to drink? I doubt you're so naive."
Taemin recalls that Minho had seen him at that party. He had almost forgotten about that. "I blame Kibum-hyung for everything."
"Rightly so." Minho replies, adding at Taemin's offended glare, "In my humble opinion."
They lapse into a pregnant silence. Taemin really wants to bring up all he'd overheard at the bleachers today, really wants to ask Minho to halter his dark horse, so to speak, and to just be honest with him. Or bust. Or something less retarded and more convincing.
"Is this a date?" Taemin blurts again instead, all raised eyebrows and calculating stare.
Minho stares back at him. "I thought we read and turned that page already."
Taemin frowns across at him. "Then I really do have no hope for you."
The waitress arrives with their order then, interrupting Minho before he can speak. As he's pouring the alcohol he says, "You're something else, you know that?"
"Yeah," Taemin rolls his eyes, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I am. What about it?"
Minho grins, a little lopsided. A slightly diffident tone overrides his voice. "You've gotten to me."
"That's it?" Taemin says, struck by his second round of boldness for the day.
Minho looks a little defeated. "What I'm trying to say is," he starts loading up his slice of lettuce, digging into the meat with distracting gusto. He stops suddenly, loosing a heavy sigh, and locks eyes with Taemin. "I want to get serious with you."
Taemin stares aghast at Minho, completely shocked. Twice in one night, Minho's blown the fundamentals of Taemin's reality to shit.
"Is that what you say to all of them?" Taemin forces himself to stay rational, stay calm. "Or am I just unlucky?"
"All of them?" Minho repeats, looking taken aback.
"I've heard the rumors," Taemin says warily, seeing his chance to confront him. "You hook up with whoever, you don't get serious, you do whatever you want--"
"Aren't you the same way?" Minho asks, and it's the lack of accusation in his tone, and the total confusion that sets Taemin off. He flusters.
"I'm--" he starts, "I'm not like you at all! All this time, it's only been you." Realizing what he's said, he starts to compensante, "I mean--"
"I haven't fucked around since I met you, if that's what you mean. I haven't bothered with people like I have with you in ages." Minho cuts him off coolly. Taemin's already feeling the small bits of his appetite drifting away. "You're in my head all the time, even when I don't want you there, and frankly, it's driving me fucking crazy."
"How reassuring." Taemin says hotly, poking his chopsticks at the samgyupsal with disdain.
"Think about it," Minho propositions, shoving his finished preparation towards Taemin, who takes it only because Minho won't stop waving it around his face. Taemin makes a distraught expression despite his chewing. Minho's already busy holding up two shots of seju next, handing one to him. "I know you're good at that."
Taemin downs his shot without waiting for Minho and slams the small glass down, gagging slightly at the taste. "I'm not cheery. And I don't want to think about it."
"Then at least enjoy the free food." Taemin doesn't miss the bewildered expression on Minho's face, or the way it makes him feel. His stomach's already feeling a little warm and fuzzy from the shot he had taken. Minho urges him to eat, though he's more focused on the alcohol than the food. Taemin watches each shot he takes, one after the other, as if he's trying to get drunk so as to not have to deal with what Taemin's starting to think he knows is coming. It's not like Taemin is trying to slow him down, either, or himself for that matter.
"Why won't you just tell me?" Taemin might as well get it out there, then. "There's something--not right about you."
"What about you?" Minho shoots back, motioning to his head like he's implying Taemin's crazy or something. "Vague tendencies and all."
"I don't do it on purpose!" Taemin pouts at him, tempted to throw his nearly finished wrap at Minho's uppity face.
"And who said I do?" Minho replies evenly, leaned in to their conversation. "You can blame me for whatever you want, but who's the one being honest right now?"
In order not to stutter something rude or unnecessary--honestly, Minho's gone and done it again--Taemin's got nothing to come back with, he grabs the half-empty bottle of seju and pours himself another shot, throwing it back like a pro. Minho even whistles and claps, egging him on.
"If you're being so honest, then tell me what it is I'm better off not knowing," Taemin lays it down, meeting Minho halfway across the small table.
Minho sits back against the chair, breaking their intense conversation. "Did Krystal put you up to this?"
"Is there something you're not telling her, too?" Taemin crosses his arms. "You said it yourself, you know."
Minho snorts, "Krystal knows everything, in context of course, and I'm surprised she hasn't scared you away yet, honestly."
"Maybe she would be more open with me." Taemin bites his lip, not liking the edgy sound he's picking up from Minho's voice.
Minho holds his challenging glance for a long moment before relenting, putting his hands up in lieu of defeat. "I can't." he says, "Put it together if you want, dig up all my dirt, whatever, but that's a line I'm not willing to cross."
"Why?" Taemin's feeling the alcohol now, and he doesn't know what's so funny, but he's giggling a little, like this whole scene is just some scripted bullshit. He wishes it were true. "Scared?"
"For you, maybe." Minho frowns, pouring out the last of the seju. "There's a reason. But you wouldn't believe me, because you don't even trust me, and I can't say I blame you."
"Then I guess nothing's going to change, is it?" Taemin stares at the distorted reflection of his small shotglass.
"That's up to you." Minho says, holds up his drink. "Entirely up to you."
Okay, Taemin thinks, smiles a little past the warm burn of alcohol in his mostly empty stomach. No change is good change, isn't it? Sounds good to him, for now at least. He has his own shit to get together in the meantime, and if Minho can't be open with him, there is no foundation for a deeper relationship to begin with.
Which is okay, right? So why does he feel even more confused than before?
Taemin wants to dedicate his current drunken stupor to Kibum, because it would be unfair to blame him, but he has to give him credit--he had introduced Taemin to aclohol (quite forcibly), after all. He's even surprised at himself for being so forward with Minho, pushing impatiently at his jacket once they're back at his house, tripping through the door and yanking Minho's head the small distance down to kiss him, humming against his lips. Minho's calloused palms dance up and down Taemin's sides, eventually slipping up his hoodie, depositing it on his bedroom floor.
"I should get you drunk more often." Minho chuckles, bouncing on the bed when Taemin shoves him, straddling his lap.
"You shouldn't take advantage of me." Taemin quips in response, grinding boldy down against Minho.
"Who's taking advantage of who?" says Minho, grabbing Taemin's thighs to help anchor him. "Maybe you should calm down and think about what you're doing. You haven't even given me a reply yet."
"Are you serious?" Taemin huffs, but he stops wiggling, content to just sit on Minho's legs. "Irony intended." he adds in inebriated afterthought.
"I have to be." Taemin can't tell if Minho's teasing or not. "After all, I don't take no for an answer."
Taemin flops onto the bed before sitting up and throwing his legs over the bottom edge. Think about it, huh? Taemin has to be honest, he's been spacey because he's been avoiding confronting anything--everything. He turns to look out Minho's window as an excuse to not look at him, but he's met with wood. "Why is your window all boarded up?"
"Long story." Minho replies, standing up and shrugging his jacket off before coming to stand in front of Taemin, shirtless and inviting. Taemin's tipsy mind is charging a million miles per minute towards overwhelmed, and it doesn't help when he falls back against the bed when Minho teasingly pushes him, and a sudden searing pain rakes up his arm. He cries out, jerking away.
"Hey--" Minho begins, startled, and sees the littering of long, threatening nails scattered along the edge of his bed. It's a bloody mess in seconds, Taemin holding his forearm close to his wrist, trying to keep it from staining Minho's sheets. He looks up at Minho, eyes glazy. "Fuck." Taemin sees a flash of recognition in Minho's eyes, but at what, he has no idea. "Are you--"
Whatever it was that had been close to snapping inside Taemin breaks now, and he doesn't even bother to try holding it back. His tears are fat and salty, the kind where incoherency takes a shit all over his bodily functions, shaking him with emotion alone. He doesn't cry because of the pain--the pain had just been the key to unlock all the stress inside of him. He could blame Minho, his mother, anyone he wants, but the worst part is that it all points back to him. It's his choices, and his fault, in the end, and he knows it.
So this is it, Taemin strings together through his hysterics, he might as well be having a mental breakdown.
He jumps when he feels Minho gently prying his hand away from his own harsh grip, dressing the puncture and applying pressure to get it to stop bleeding. Minho doesn't try to stop him crying, just lets him get it out of his system. "My father's convinced himself that boarding up my window will solve a number of my problems--" Minho starts, biting his lip when he pulls away the stained tissue. "He probably left the nails lying around on purpose."
Taemin sniffs, hitting his forehead against Minho's shoulder. He's not expecting it when Minho presses him into his chest, and Taemin breathes in the scent of tobacco and subtle aftershave. It calms him down, and he's glad he skips the hiccupping stage, becaue that would have just been beyond embarassing. "Who in their right mind would do something like that."
Minho shrugs. "I really wouldn't put it past him. He's the type who really believes violence is the answer." he says, pulling Taemin away so they can look eye to eye. "So, keep pressure on that. I'll be right back."
Taemin examines the blood beeding and then sliding slowly down his wrist, wondering how sore it would be in a few hours, and how anyone's father could be so fucking crazy. Violence? he thinks, it's more like child abuse. Really poorly thought out and unfortunately effective child abuse. He sniffs again, biting back another tempting wave of hysterics.
He doesn't move when Minho returns, letting his nerves relax and Minho treat his wrist without a word. When Minho's done, he finally says, "I'm sorry about all this."
"Sorry about all what?" Taemin snorts defensively. "I wasn't crying over the nail."
Minho grins up at him. "Don't worry, what happens in this room stays in this room."
Taemin kicks him over without mercy, successfully landing him off the bed, but Minho grabs him before he has a chance to retaliate, wary of his injured wrist, and yanks him down with him, pressing him close to his side. "And I've suddenly lost the will to move." he anounces loudly.
"I'm the one who just had a mental breakdown." Taemin complains, because Minho is kind of heavy when he's smothering him.
"Do you want to have a competition on crazy? In this household?"
Taemin's breath catches when Minho turns to his face, lips brushing against his ear whenever he talks. "You already know I'm a very competitive person." he says, then bites Taemin's ear. His hand is already working up Taemin's shirt to expose his stomach, pushing the fabric up to his collar bones so his fingers have unobstructed roam of Taemin's white skin.
He props himself on one elbow, shifting against Taemin.
"I thought," Taemin gasps when Minho pinches his one exposed nipple, "You had no will to move."
"What can I say," Minho rolls fully on top of Taemin, pressing their clothed erections together, "You just move me."
Taemin kisses Minho then, mostly to shut him up, and pushes up against Minho, too tired to do too much work. Minho moves against him, nothing but their speeding hearts to serenade them as they bring each other to climax, Taemin coming with a muffled gasp against Minho's shoulder, Minho following him with a quiet moan. He kisses Taemin once, gently, and it catches him off guard. But it's nice. He'd admit it's nice.
He stares across the room at Minho's plain dresser, tired and sated. "You know, my mom," he starts, not sure why he's even telling Minho, but he presses on, "My mom, when she saw me at my recital, she got really angry because I had to take Sulli's place and dance pointe, like a girl. I didn't really want to, but the whole school was relying on me to make an impression on the sponsors...
"I think she's always known, before I did, that I'm--" he stops, trying to find the word, "--different. I'm glad you didn't come, honestly. I kind of regret agreeing to it." he forces himself to sit up, not wanting to look at Minho in fear of what his expression might betray.
"Was it what you wanted to do?" Minho asks him, watching him gather his shirt and hoodie, readying to leave.
"What?" Taemin pauses, his shirt halfway over his head, yanking it the rest of the way down impatiently. "Of course it was."
"Then your mom doesn't matter." Minho shrugs, getting up and dunking Taemin's hoodie over his head, helping him push his arms through the inside out sleeves. "It's that simple."
"For you, maybe." Taemin mirrors Minho's words, not sure if he likes how they feel rolling across his tongue. "She's never hit me before," Taemin looks up at him after he pulls his head through his hoodie. "And I don't think she wants me to come home. She hasn't called or anything." what Taemin really wants to say is, "What do I do?" but those words are far, far from him. Like Minho would have the appropriate answer, anyway.
"You're welcome over here whenever you want." Minho says immediately. "My father's in Pusan until New Years."
Taemin's honestly a little touched, but he hides it by saying, "Clean up any hazards first, next time."
Minho gives Taemin that slightly lopsided smile again, and he's starting to think it might be something he should appreciate--it seems to be the most real thing he's witnessed about Minho yet.
Taemin catches the bus and texts Krystal, hoping she's somehow availabe. He feels like she is the one person he can go to about Minho who actually has insider information, whatever that means.
received 12:40am
Krystal: i always have time, at the usual k?
The Usual. Fifteen minutes later Taemin is surprised to discover that slipping Krystal's name does grant him unquestioned access. But he doesn't see her. His phone dings as if on cue.
received 12:53am
Krystal: find me in the br babe （⌒▽⌒）
Taemin scoots down the slim hallway he had followed Minho down days before, trying his best to be inconspicuous, and Krystal opens the girl's restroom door before he can knock, pulling him into the hot pink room with an overly fancy lionclaw chair and false gold sinks, chipping from use. "So?" she says without greeting him, flipping the lock on the teal painted door. "Spill, spill. You know I'm all about the tongue."
Taemin sighs, used to Krystal's way with words. She has a variety of makeups, a hair curler, and a straightener scattered about.
"Minho said he wanted to get serious." Taemin sits on the chair always present in single unit bathrooms, as nonsensical as it was. He firmly believes Krystal is the only girl he could be locked in a bathroom with and not feel awkward about. She's humming and fixing her makeup in the vintage mirror.
Krystal stops humming, and pauses to frown at her reflection. "Let me guess," she says, "Then he takes you down the street to eat out. Then later on, when he takes you home, you're really feeling it, and he says, "Don't you want to take it slow?" or some bullshit like that. Which is frustrating, isn't it?"
Taemin is wide-eyed. "Did he tell you?"
"Tell me?" Krystal laughs. "He doesn't tell people shit. I'm just psychic." Taemin's not buying it--he knows Krystal better by now. Krystal laughs again. "Minho's extremely predictable when he thinks he's in love."
"Thinks?" repeats Taemin.
Krystal purses her lips, then crowds him by the chair, stooping over him just to be a menace. "Minho's been serious a grand total of three times." she says, leering at Taemin like she's telling some ghost story. "Every one has ended in blood or tears, most of the time both."
"Were you one of those three times?" Taemin can't help but ask.
"Fuck yeah I was." Krystal snorts, as if proud. "It's a long story," she says, "But in that case, it ended when I beat the shit out of him." she pulls away, leaning against the sink. "You should try it sometime, it's a great stress reliever."
Taemin decides he won't tell her he already sort of has--but he has to wonder how literal Krystal's being. She turns back to the mirror, her curling iron finally warm enough to use. "So, you told him yes?"
"No," Taemin looks down at his hands in his lap. "I didn't."
Krystal pauses in her reach to curl her hair and this time, she actually looks surprised. "Shut the front door," she guffaws, "You actually rejected him?"
"Uhm, I guess." Taemin hadn't thought it was a difficult question, really. He doesn't trust Minho, not very much, and it's not exactly like he's very stable himself right now, either.
"You are the only person who periodically leaves me speechless." Krystal states, focusing instead on pressing the last tiny piece of her false eyelashes into place. "You might actually have a chance with Minho--or should I say, he might have a chance with you."
Taemin fiddles with his phone, feeling oddly self-conscious. "What are you getting at?"
Krystal waves her eyelash curler at him. "Your environment affects your personality." she says wisely. "And vice versa, but that's not the point. It's Minho's upbringing--or lack thereof--that's made him the way he is. But you seem to be changing that."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Taemin frowns.
"In the long run?" Krystal pauses in her preening and looks at him for a short while. "I honestly don't have an answer for you this time." She puts her makeups back in the case and dumps it into her purse. "Growing up in a crime family like this is almost anachronistic. Minho shut himself away in order to protect himself. Eunsook did too, but she's basically perfect, so she's already overcome that."
Wait. Hold up. What? Taemin so had no been expecting that. "Are you saying," he goes slowly, "Minho's involved with the jopok? And Eunsook?"
Krystal bites her lip. "Oops?" she says to thin air. "Yeah, I totally thought you knew that already. Well, I've said too much, so a little more won't hurt. I'll just say you twisted my arm for information." she grins at him, teasing. "Unnie's family is kind of influential underground. I work for them, and so does Minho's father, and Minho's the leader of their youth group. I'm sure that clears up a lot of pointless confusion on Minho's end, doesn't it? Really, that boy should thank me for all the shit I do for him."
"He didn't want to tell me." Taemin admits, sinking further into the chair. He feels kind of bad for poking around in business that clearly wasn't his, now. He never would have guessed, ever, not even with the blaring warning signs such as that odd phonecall and the terrified spark on the restaraunt owner's smile.
"Of course he didn't." Krystal crouches down beside him, putting a hand on his knee and looking up at his downcast face. Something feels off about the entire ordeal, like Krystal had known he hadn't known and had just been waiting for the right moment to bomb him with all this unbelievable shit. "I did say blood and tears before, didn't I? I was being literal."
She waits a tick before laughing. "That last part was a joke, oppa. You should know me better by now. I have an appointment, though, so I do need to be going."
Taemin grabs the hem of her skirt before she can leave. "What about you?" he asks, wide-eyed in his shock. "How do you cope with it?"
"I took the easy way out." she says with a smile and a thick-lashed wink. "Can anybody say 'I smell sex and candy ~ here'!" she sings out in bad English.
Taemin bites his lip. "I worry about you."
"Oh please," Krystal pinches his arm, unlocking the door and stepping out. "Leave the worrying to me. You're the one who needs it."
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note; This long-ass chapter gave me a lot of shit, but I had a lot of time to work on it because I am SICK AND DYING. Flus are the worst, and I blame my roommate for everything even though it is my fault because we share everything, drinks, food, cigarettes, he might as well be my co-joined twin. What I'd like to know is why I got SICKER than that skinny as fuck bastard. RAGEEEE.
So who saw that coming? Did anybody have an inkling? Besides xfwankiex, she wins the internet for mentioning it. ♥
Honestly not too proud of this chapter, or how the shit hit the fan. I seem to be bad at writing climaxes, I guess I need to work on that. And true story on the nail thing. I fell on one when I was rearranging my room and my thigh started like gushing blood and it wouldn't stop for a good twenty minutes. Nails are evil.
I am jacked up on nyquil so don't trust my grammar/typo skills right now. :P But the jopok, which has other names idgaf about, is pretty much the Korean version of yakuza or mafia. Same shit, different day.
Relient K's Mmhmm album is still the shit, fuck their nonsecular praise Jesus tendencies. My dirty secret guilty pleasure forever, ok. Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet.
Also, seju is nasty. People tell me it's just like soju, but it's not. It's nasty. It's dealable if you plug your nose and throw the shot to the back of your throat, and a few shots on a mildly empty stomach have you feeling good in no time, but it's honestly not worth the taste. IDG why they only sell seju at the noraebang I go to, when soju is clearly 10000x better. Whatevs. Baekseju is more traditional or something, it seems.