a different kind of crazy (2min)
TITLE A Different Kind of Crazy 30/?
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] Taemin centric. Minho/Taemin, Jonghyun/Key. (f(x) & 2PM & etc cameos)
RATING/WARNING R. Mention and use of drugs. Mild violence. References to self-harm and mental disorders.
GENRE Drama/romance/coming-of-age
1 2 3 4 5 6 ♥ 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 minholude 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 mlude 2 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29
a different kind of crazy;
"I'm not angry with you."
Minho's oddly quiet--not in a vocal way, but physically. Taemin had never noticed it until now--until there's been a lack of that constant movement, almost like a vibration of trepidation, hovering about him. "I just need some time." To think, he doesn't say, but Taemin hears it, about us.
He wants to apologize over and over; a vindictive part of him had lashed out and Krystal had taken advantage of it--but Minho has more to say.
"Krystal is the possessive type, can you imagine? When she can't get what she wants, it gets messy. She'll take it out on other people, try to take what's most important to someone else. All the while she's convinced she's doing the right thing--like she has to make everybody understand exactly how she sees things." As if it's the only way. Most important. The words echo around in Taemin's head, empty, almost, and filled only by Minho's sardonic voice. "I've never wanted to punch a girl so much before."
Still, all Taemin can think to say is, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry anyway, even if you're not mad."
Minho's expression softens when he looks over to Taemin--he can't control his own face, its mechanizations are alien to him. He feels the pull of some unnameable sadness, and amidst it all, the resistance in his lips, his eyes, his whole face, to keep from crying.
"I've never--" he stops, trying to collect his words. "I've never felt this much. Ever. Just--feeling. I don't know what to do with it. It confuses me so much I can't concentrate. It's no excuse, but--"
"It's a perfectly valid excuse. One I've been using for a long time." Minho cuts him off, but without resilience. It should merit at least a tiny bit of comfort on Taemin's part, but it only serves to make him feel even more guilty. The weight is almost unbearable, he's so ashamed of himself. He's a hypocrite now, that's what he is. Taemin's the angry one--with himself, with Krystal, with Minho for reacting so calmly, almost genuinely. But he feels like this had been a catalyst opening the closed door between them--in a sense, as loathe as he is to admit it--Krystal had been right. It had been the bridge he needed.
So, does he regret it?
Taemin leans onto the railing, dropping his head onto his hands, fingers curled around the cold metal. And so he's crossed the bridge and now has to face the revelation. The words he wants to hear are still absent. The steady, unrelenting anticipation hangs heavy in the air, a humid shroud of what if's, could you's, I'm sorry's--mistakes, give or takes. Taemin's still coming down off his high, maybe that's why. Why he feels so--much. So overwhelmed. It can't go on like this.
"I'm glad I met you." Taemin says decisively, surprising even himself. But the resolution is sudden and finalizing. He just can't do it. "Maybe it's just not meant to be. I'm sorry. But I feel like I can't even trust myself anymore." With that, he leans back from the rail, supporting his weight hanging from his straightened arms, feeling the breeze rake through his hair. It's almost a relief. Almost, but not quite.
Minho makes no move to stop him when Taemin turns to leave, and Taemin can't summon the courage to look back at him, to see what might have been left unsaid but clearly written on his face. He stuffs his hands in his coat pockets and makes his way down the dock to the parking lot, and only then, with his back to his past, does he allow himself to cry.
Days pass in a blur. The new year comes and goes, full of remorse. As far as Taemin is concerned, it's really over. Minho hasn't tried to contact him since, and every now and then Taemin will pull up his name in his phone, thumb hovering over the delete option, but he just can't bring himself to do it. A dull gloom lingers in everything he does; the only time he can forget about everything is during dance practice--where his mind is consumed in the perfect execution of complex, fluid movement, strange tempos, feline graces.
Nothing seems to penetrate his solemnity. Even Kibum's having a hard time getting through, as Taemin's more of a space case than he's ever been. He's closed himself up, returning to that quiet, strange kid-in-the-corner. He's got to get his facts straight. Who am I? and What the fuck am I doing? are questions that plague him, possess him like a strong demon--but the demon is himself. What do I want? What do I really want? -- he can't find the answer, no matter how hard he looks for it--maybe he doesn't have it. Maybe he never will.
Without Minho in his life, to disrupt it or otherwise, Taemin finds an empty peace that encompasses him wholly. It's as if his ears are ringing, unable to adjust to a higher ground level. He doesn't much like to think about it, or the past months he'd spent with Minho, or how he changed his life, but--
"This is a catastrophe." Kibum harks, loud and unrepentant, towards Taemin's current state of mind. "Look at yourself. Pick up the pieces. Move on. You finished with him for Christ's sake."
"I know." Taemin replies, but the words feel foreign on his tongue. "My head is all cloudy, that's all. I'm just trying to sort it all out."
Kibum is both surprised and irritated by this response. "You still haven't told me the whole deal."
"I can't do that." Taemin sighs. "Look, I'm okay. See?" he gives Kibum a convincing grin, just a little too much teeth. His guilt won't let him tell Kibum--not yet, at least.
"Right." Kibum is not convinced. "Looking at you now, it's weird. You seem unfamiliar. Like I don't know you anymore. It's been a couple weeks since you've really talked to me. What's happened to Lee Taemin? Where did he go?" Kibum waves his hand in front of Taemin's face to verify his point.
"I'm trying to figure that out myself."
"Quarter life crisis sot of thing? Fuck, Taemin, you're only sixteen!"
Taemin manages a mild laugh at that. "I know you hate it when I deflect with I don't know, it's got nothing to do with me, all that bullshit. I'm working on that. Just be patient with me. Please?"
"How can I say no to that face." Kibum shakes his head. "Do your thing, who am I to stop you--not like that's ever worked before. It's better to do something than to just idle away like a lovesick hoser." he seems satisfied with that ideology. "Plus, there's always the screaming and table flipping route should you not be able to handle it all. Ah, my Taeminnie is growing up--"
"Shut up, hyung." Taemin's half serious, half laughing.
"Still a disagreeable teenager, I see."
"Oh really?" Taemin socks Kibum with his backpack. "That's rich, coming from you."
"And ungrateful and disrespectful to your elders!" Kibum replies, flipping him off as he crosses the street.
Taemin's taking the stairs up to his apartment slowly, almost one every half minute or so, biding his time, when his phone begins to ring. It's an unknown number; he contemplates it for a moment before answering.
"Hello, would this be Lee Taemin's phone by any chance?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Hello, I'm the secretary of the Seoul Institute of Dance. I believe you received a scholarship invitation from us, and I just wanted to follow through with you to see if you might be interested."
Interested? Taemin's heart leaps up in his throat. It's more like a dream come true. "Yes." he says, adds a little awkwardly, "I'm looking into it."
"That's great." replies the woman over the line. She sounds like every other professional sales rep; trying to rope kids into their school for their time and money and maybe, if they're lucky, their name. "If you have the time, I'd like to make an appointment with you to come take a tour. Now, how old are you?"
"Sixteen." Taemin can't really lie.
"That's fine. We have a transfer option available, as well as a part-time attendance. Your mother is welcome to take the tour with you. What date is good for you?"
Taemin doesn't know if SIDance is open on weekends, so without thinking, he says, "This Friday is fine."
"Friday then. Is 1:00 suitable?"
"Yes." Fridays, his mother works the graveyard shift.
"Great." the woman says again. "We look forwards to meeting you! Have a nice evening."
After he hangs up, he has all the time to think, well fuck, another thing to piss his mother off with.
Taemin sighs, plopping down on the stair he had stopped at. It's been two weeks since then; since he'd been ripped out of the phantasmagoria of drugs and violence and inter-gang warfare comprising Minho's life. He misses the vivid and sleepless nightlife, the warmth of an intimate relationship--he stops his thoughts there. Taemin gets up and goes back down the stairs. Damn, does he want a cigarette.
Without really thinking about it, his feet lead him to the mart Sunyoung works at. He stands in front of the door, blankly staring at it for a few moments, until Sunyoung notices him and rounds the kiosk, poking her head through the automatic doors. "What?" she says, brows raised. "You'll scare away customers zoning out like that."
Taemin ducks inside without an apology. The store is empty, and Sunyoung has a Nylon magazine opened before her where she returns behind the register.
"What do you want?" she asks him.
"Cigarettes."
Sunyoung laughs. "That's not gonna happen." she reconsiders when Taemin frowns, adopting the look he so often used on Kibum to get his way. "Hold up." she says as she winds out from behind the stall and wraps a chain about the door handles to the entrance, flipping the OPEN sign to CLOSED. "It's about time for my break. Come out back with me. I'll give you a smoke if you'll listen to me. I've been wanting to talk to you for awhile."
Taemin finds he regrets his acquiescence almost as soon as he agrees. He'd followed Sunyoung out to the small niche behind the store; an alleyway squished between chunks of endlessly conjoined buildings, and lined with dumpsters. Sunyoung taps two menthol cigarettes out of her box and hands him one, lighting hers before giving Taemin the lighter on her exhale.
They both squat alongside the nearest dumpster to avoid the wind.
"What's your name again?" she asks him, untying her ponytail and raking a hand through her lightened hair.
"Taemin."
"Do you know mine?"
Taemin shakes his head, inhaling the intense taste of flavored tobacco, hardly enjoying it as much as he'd like to.
"It's Sunyoung." she contemplates her Ugg boots for a moment before continuing. "You're gay, right?"
Taemin resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"
Sunyoung flicks ash onto the street. "Sort of. It's more about Minho."
Taemin stills at that, unnerved and suddenly uncomfortable.
"Ended badly? He broke up with you, didn't he? I can tell by the look on your face. I told you he's not like that."
"I broke up with him." Taemin corrects, somewhat abysmally.
"Huh. So you say." They both take a drag on their cigarettes; as much as Taemin dislikes Sunyoung, he feels a sort of unavoidable companionship with her; a shared similitude of loves had and then lost.
"Well, to be honest, I've wanted to talk to you for awhile. I was just too pissed off to bother. Then there you are, zoning out like some weirdo in front of the shop. Maybe it's fate." she flicks her ash again, the end of her cigarette embering in the crisp air. "Anyway, I only have ten minutes, so I'll keep it short.
"You know, Minho and I were seeing each other before you happened along. It'd been almost half a year. I know it was a no-strings-attached sort of thing, but when is it ever really like that? A lot of girls like him. He's popular. And I had him. No one else did, not for awhile, at least. Sometimes, he'd tell me maybe we should really try it--dating I mean. But that was always when he was high as balls, so I'd be like, sure, I'd like that. You know I'm in love with you. It got to that point, where I was comfortable saying it, even if he wouldn't return my feelings. You know something's wrong when that becomes commonplace.
"When he was sober, he'd make up all sorts of excuses. It was a joke or I said what? Really low balls like that. But I was naive and in love and blah blah blah," here, she pauses to take another puff of her cigarette. "Ugh, it's kind of embarrassing to think about.
"So, I'd hear all the rumors circulating through the gossip mill about him: that he was easy, that he was in a street gang, that he was a peddler. I didn't believe any of them until he made a delivery with Junho. I guess he didn't know I worked here, and I had no clue it was his father who kept the blocks. Coincidence, right? Sometimes I wonder." she snubs out her cigarette and retrieves another, offering another to Taemin as well, who accepts silently.
He's disconnectedly intrigued by her recollections--and the insight they might hold--despite the fact he shouldn't care. He's got to get over it.
"Well," Sungyoung goes on through another cloud of smoke, "He had some explaining to do after that. Junho and I had been friends for awhile, before middle school, and he was kinda like an older brother to me. To find out he had gotten involved with thugs--big time, no joke kkangpae--well, that upset me more than Minho's affiliations." her expression is very sober and calm as she speaks, "I know Minho killed Junho. But I'm not there in my story yet.
"Minho gave me a lot of shit when I asked him all sorts of questions, but I got him to admit the truth. It annoyed him that I knew so much about him, I could tell, but at the same time, he looked relieved. It was totally weird. I felt oddly privileged then, and he made me promise to keep it all a secret. But you already know, don't you. I'm sure you do. So I can tell you." Another pause for a long drag. Taemin looks up at the sky, suddenly so, so tired.
"Autumn was ending when I asked him to consider dating me seriously. I said I didn't care if he was kkangpae, my family's grown up indebted anyway. He laughed--at me--and said, I remember his exact words, ' This isn't some penny romance novel where everything is okay in the end just because of love. ' When he said that, I slapped him and then I cried. Not my best moment. I said I'd put my all into our relationship, what more do you want? He looked surprised. Fucking surprised! I didn't get it. Looking back on it, it's cuz he's got a problem, like, when it comes to connecting with people. He always stays close-by, but never close enough to get a hold of." Sunyoung sighs. "It sucks. I really hate him for it.
"The day after that, he ended it. He said he was sorry, but I could tell he had no idea what he was apologizing for. It made me so mad, but I was also crushed. I felt used--I know, I set myself up for it. But still, you know what I mean?"
Taemin doesn't, not really, but he nods anyway.
"Then you come into the picture. I was like, whoa, where did this kid come from? Junho complained about you a lot. He was jealous and pissed off at Minho for being so preoccupied and for ignoring him or whatever. I'm sure he was on to you two. I was. Women's intuition, yeah. He told me I ought to get with him, to get even. I know that's a really lame way to ask a girl out, but he was too stubborn--and too shy--I knew he'd liked me for awhile, but I'd always shut him down. I thought, what harm could a date do? He actually treated me really nice.
"Tell me, did Minho ever surprise you? Probably not, I imagine. Junho did all these romantic things for me. I wasn't used to it." Sungyoung had let most of her cigarette burn and fall away, too caught up in her reflection. Her expression has become stonier and more grim the farther along she gets. "I should have let Junho get to you back then. If he had beat the shit out of you, you'd know this was serious business. It's dangerous to mingle with these people--especially for you, and you know why. It would have been in your best interest--and mine."
Taemin doesn't like the turn this story is taking. Sunyoung flicks her cigarette off into the distance; it rolls, still burning on one end.
"I'm not saying this cuz I'm jealous. It's got nothing to do with that. I was happy with Junho, for the few weeks I had him. I could blame you for it all, but it's not really your fault, is it? Junho wasn't perfect of course. He had anger issues and a general resentment for anyone better than him. He'd been pulling at the chains way before you showed up. What did him in was when Minho got the promotion he had worked so hard for. But still," Sunyoung's hands have begun to tremble, cold. "Was that any reason to kill him? Maybe I don't know all the facts. I'm not involved--it's not my world, though sometimes I catch glimpses of it." her voice catches in her throat, pitch wavering. She's trying not to cry. "Just--" she swallows. "Why? It's like, you never know how important someone really is to you until you lose them. I thought--I'd taken for granted that Junho was going to be around forever. It just felt like the natural way of things. Then suddenly, just like that, he's gone. Just like that." Hot tears are rolling down Sunyoung's cheeks now, the floodgates had been opened. She turns her face into Taemin's shoulder, choked sobs wetting his coat. He's not sure what to say--or how to comfort her. Frankly, he's still speechless. It had never occurred to him that Junho was another person--another human being just like anyone else. Listening to Sunyoung's crying only pushes him into a further state of mental disarray.
She sobs, punching him in the shoulder. "I wish I could blame you! I wish it was your fault."
But it was Minho's, and Sunyoung still loved him too. That's what she couldn't say, but Taemin knows--she had made it clear.
He wraps an arm around her shoulder, awkwardly trying to be of some use, until Sunyoung calms down enough to breathe normally. She pushes away from him, nose pink and runny, eyes puffy and red.
"I'm sorry." she says, "But I can't not hate you. And I can't forgive you--or Minho--for what he did. You should take all this as a warning and get the hell away from him. He's bad news. I can't believe I ever loved him." She angrily taps out a third cigarette; this time she does not offer Taemin one. "I'm going to kill him one day." she says through a loud huff off smoke. "I'm sure I'm not the only one."
The way she says it, face drawn and broken like some fresh corpse, Taemin does not doubt her determination. And he wants to run away, to curl up somewhere alone and unreachable by anyone---any human. People, he thinks--people are just too much.
Sunyoung sniffs one last time, then gets to her feet. "If you decide to ignore everything I've just told you and go back to Minho, which I'm sure you will--you think you're special, don't you? Well, let him know. Tell him what I told you. You owe me that much." And with that, she turns and goes back into the shop, slamming the door behind her.
Taemin stays where he is long after she's gone, trapped in his thoughts. This is something so unimaginable, so indescribable--this is something he can't tell just anyone about. Sunyoung had shared a part of herself that Taemin did not want. But now he has it--and no way to get rid of it. It hurts. Maybe for her sake, or for his own selfish reasons. Nothing make senses, these days.
She had given him an unshakeable burden--a truth wrought out as subtle revenge. It had never occurred to Taemin that Junho was anything more than a cruel, sardonic bastard. In fact, his death had hardly crossed Taemin's mind. It had been treated so casually--how could he have known the damage it had caused?
By the time he makes it home, all he has the energy to do is collapse into bed. His dreams are riddled with nightmarish scenes, bloody massacres, shiny knives, and Minho's lopsided grin, as if he was enjoying every second of it.
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note; So, there are four more parts of this story total. Chapter 31 and 32, and two more ~interludes~, one in Minho's POV and one in Eunsook's. I haven't finished chapter 32, but everything else is written, I'm still working on typing it up. And I'm getting internet in my flat tomorrow. \\\o///
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] Taemin centric. Minho/Taemin, Jonghyun/Key. (f(x) & 2PM & etc cameos)
RATING/WARNING R. Mention and use of drugs. Mild violence. References to self-harm and mental disorders.
GENRE Drama/romance/coming-of-age
1 2 3 4 5 6 ♥ 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 minholude 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 mlude 2 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29
a different kind of crazy;
"I'm not angry with you."
Minho's oddly quiet--not in a vocal way, but physically. Taemin had never noticed it until now--until there's been a lack of that constant movement, almost like a vibration of trepidation, hovering about him. "I just need some time." To think, he doesn't say, but Taemin hears it, about us.
He wants to apologize over and over; a vindictive part of him had lashed out and Krystal had taken advantage of it--but Minho has more to say.
"Krystal is the possessive type, can you imagine? When she can't get what she wants, it gets messy. She'll take it out on other people, try to take what's most important to someone else. All the while she's convinced she's doing the right thing--like she has to make everybody understand exactly how she sees things." As if it's the only way. Most important. The words echo around in Taemin's head, empty, almost, and filled only by Minho's sardonic voice. "I've never wanted to punch a girl so much before."
Still, all Taemin can think to say is, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry anyway, even if you're not mad."
Minho's expression softens when he looks over to Taemin--he can't control his own face, its mechanizations are alien to him. He feels the pull of some unnameable sadness, and amidst it all, the resistance in his lips, his eyes, his whole face, to keep from crying.
"I've never--" he stops, trying to collect his words. "I've never felt this much. Ever. Just--feeling. I don't know what to do with it. It confuses me so much I can't concentrate. It's no excuse, but--"
"It's a perfectly valid excuse. One I've been using for a long time." Minho cuts him off, but without resilience. It should merit at least a tiny bit of comfort on Taemin's part, but it only serves to make him feel even more guilty. The weight is almost unbearable, he's so ashamed of himself. He's a hypocrite now, that's what he is. Taemin's the angry one--with himself, with Krystal, with Minho for reacting so calmly, almost genuinely. But he feels like this had been a catalyst opening the closed door between them--in a sense, as loathe as he is to admit it--Krystal had been right. It had been the bridge he needed.
So, does he regret it?
Taemin leans onto the railing, dropping his head onto his hands, fingers curled around the cold metal. And so he's crossed the bridge and now has to face the revelation. The words he wants to hear are still absent. The steady, unrelenting anticipation hangs heavy in the air, a humid shroud of what if's, could you's, I'm sorry's--mistakes, give or takes. Taemin's still coming down off his high, maybe that's why. Why he feels so--much. So overwhelmed. It can't go on like this.
"I'm glad I met you." Taemin says decisively, surprising even himself. But the resolution is sudden and finalizing. He just can't do it. "Maybe it's just not meant to be. I'm sorry. But I feel like I can't even trust myself anymore." With that, he leans back from the rail, supporting his weight hanging from his straightened arms, feeling the breeze rake through his hair. It's almost a relief. Almost, but not quite.
Minho makes no move to stop him when Taemin turns to leave, and Taemin can't summon the courage to look back at him, to see what might have been left unsaid but clearly written on his face. He stuffs his hands in his coat pockets and makes his way down the dock to the parking lot, and only then, with his back to his past, does he allow himself to cry.
Days pass in a blur. The new year comes and goes, full of remorse. As far as Taemin is concerned, it's really over. Minho hasn't tried to contact him since, and every now and then Taemin will pull up his name in his phone, thumb hovering over the delete option, but he just can't bring himself to do it. A dull gloom lingers in everything he does; the only time he can forget about everything is during dance practice--where his mind is consumed in the perfect execution of complex, fluid movement, strange tempos, feline graces.
Nothing seems to penetrate his solemnity. Even Kibum's having a hard time getting through, as Taemin's more of a space case than he's ever been. He's closed himself up, returning to that quiet, strange kid-in-the-corner. He's got to get his facts straight. Who am I? and What the fuck am I doing? are questions that plague him, possess him like a strong demon--but the demon is himself. What do I want? What do I really want? -- he can't find the answer, no matter how hard he looks for it--maybe he doesn't have it. Maybe he never will.
Without Minho in his life, to disrupt it or otherwise, Taemin finds an empty peace that encompasses him wholly. It's as if his ears are ringing, unable to adjust to a higher ground level. He doesn't much like to think about it, or the past months he'd spent with Minho, or how he changed his life, but--
"This is a catastrophe." Kibum harks, loud and unrepentant, towards Taemin's current state of mind. "Look at yourself. Pick up the pieces. Move on. You finished with him for Christ's sake."
"I know." Taemin replies, but the words feel foreign on his tongue. "My head is all cloudy, that's all. I'm just trying to sort it all out."
Kibum is both surprised and irritated by this response. "You still haven't told me the whole deal."
"I can't do that." Taemin sighs. "Look, I'm okay. See?" he gives Kibum a convincing grin, just a little too much teeth. His guilt won't let him tell Kibum--not yet, at least.
"Right." Kibum is not convinced. "Looking at you now, it's weird. You seem unfamiliar. Like I don't know you anymore. It's been a couple weeks since you've really talked to me. What's happened to Lee Taemin? Where did he go?" Kibum waves his hand in front of Taemin's face to verify his point.
"I'm trying to figure that out myself."
"Quarter life crisis sot of thing? Fuck, Taemin, you're only sixteen!"
Taemin manages a mild laugh at that. "I know you hate it when I deflect with I don't know, it's got nothing to do with me, all that bullshit. I'm working on that. Just be patient with me. Please?"
"How can I say no to that face." Kibum shakes his head. "Do your thing, who am I to stop you--not like that's ever worked before. It's better to do something than to just idle away like a lovesick hoser." he seems satisfied with that ideology. "Plus, there's always the screaming and table flipping route should you not be able to handle it all. Ah, my Taeminnie is growing up--"
"Shut up, hyung." Taemin's half serious, half laughing.
"Still a disagreeable teenager, I see."
"Oh really?" Taemin socks Kibum with his backpack. "That's rich, coming from you."
"And ungrateful and disrespectful to your elders!" Kibum replies, flipping him off as he crosses the street.
Taemin's taking the stairs up to his apartment slowly, almost one every half minute or so, biding his time, when his phone begins to ring. It's an unknown number; he contemplates it for a moment before answering.
"Hello, would this be Lee Taemin's phone by any chance?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Hello, I'm the secretary of the Seoul Institute of Dance. I believe you received a scholarship invitation from us, and I just wanted to follow through with you to see if you might be interested."
Interested? Taemin's heart leaps up in his throat. It's more like a dream come true. "Yes." he says, adds a little awkwardly, "I'm looking into it."
"That's great." replies the woman over the line. She sounds like every other professional sales rep; trying to rope kids into their school for their time and money and maybe, if they're lucky, their name. "If you have the time, I'd like to make an appointment with you to come take a tour. Now, how old are you?"
"Sixteen." Taemin can't really lie.
"That's fine. We have a transfer option available, as well as a part-time attendance. Your mother is welcome to take the tour with you. What date is good for you?"
Taemin doesn't know if SIDance is open on weekends, so without thinking, he says, "This Friday is fine."
"Friday then. Is 1:00 suitable?"
"Yes." Fridays, his mother works the graveyard shift.
"Great." the woman says again. "We look forwards to meeting you! Have a nice evening."
After he hangs up, he has all the time to think, well fuck, another thing to piss his mother off with.
Taemin sighs, plopping down on the stair he had stopped at. It's been two weeks since then; since he'd been ripped out of the phantasmagoria of drugs and violence and inter-gang warfare comprising Minho's life. He misses the vivid and sleepless nightlife, the warmth of an intimate relationship--he stops his thoughts there. Taemin gets up and goes back down the stairs. Damn, does he want a cigarette.
Without really thinking about it, his feet lead him to the mart Sunyoung works at. He stands in front of the door, blankly staring at it for a few moments, until Sunyoung notices him and rounds the kiosk, poking her head through the automatic doors. "What?" she says, brows raised. "You'll scare away customers zoning out like that."
Taemin ducks inside without an apology. The store is empty, and Sunyoung has a Nylon magazine opened before her where she returns behind the register.
"What do you want?" she asks him.
"Cigarettes."
Sunyoung laughs. "That's not gonna happen." she reconsiders when Taemin frowns, adopting the look he so often used on Kibum to get his way. "Hold up." she says as she winds out from behind the stall and wraps a chain about the door handles to the entrance, flipping the OPEN sign to CLOSED. "It's about time for my break. Come out back with me. I'll give you a smoke if you'll listen to me. I've been wanting to talk to you for awhile."
Taemin finds he regrets his acquiescence almost as soon as he agrees. He'd followed Sunyoung out to the small niche behind the store; an alleyway squished between chunks of endlessly conjoined buildings, and lined with dumpsters. Sunyoung taps two menthol cigarettes out of her box and hands him one, lighting hers before giving Taemin the lighter on her exhale.
They both squat alongside the nearest dumpster to avoid the wind.
"What's your name again?" she asks him, untying her ponytail and raking a hand through her lightened hair.
"Taemin."
"Do you know mine?"
Taemin shakes his head, inhaling the intense taste of flavored tobacco, hardly enjoying it as much as he'd like to.
"It's Sunyoung." she contemplates her Ugg boots for a moment before continuing. "You're gay, right?"
Taemin resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"
Sunyoung flicks ash onto the street. "Sort of. It's more about Minho."
Taemin stills at that, unnerved and suddenly uncomfortable.
"Ended badly? He broke up with you, didn't he? I can tell by the look on your face. I told you he's not like that."
"I broke up with him." Taemin corrects, somewhat abysmally.
"Huh. So you say." They both take a drag on their cigarettes; as much as Taemin dislikes Sunyoung, he feels a sort of unavoidable companionship with her; a shared similitude of loves had and then lost.
"Well, to be honest, I've wanted to talk to you for awhile. I was just too pissed off to bother. Then there you are, zoning out like some weirdo in front of the shop. Maybe it's fate." she flicks her ash again, the end of her cigarette embering in the crisp air. "Anyway, I only have ten minutes, so I'll keep it short.
"You know, Minho and I were seeing each other before you happened along. It'd been almost half a year. I know it was a no-strings-attached sort of thing, but when is it ever really like that? A lot of girls like him. He's popular. And I had him. No one else did, not for awhile, at least. Sometimes, he'd tell me maybe we should really try it--dating I mean. But that was always when he was high as balls, so I'd be like, sure, I'd like that. You know I'm in love with you. It got to that point, where I was comfortable saying it, even if he wouldn't return my feelings. You know something's wrong when that becomes commonplace.
"When he was sober, he'd make up all sorts of excuses. It was a joke or I said what? Really low balls like that. But I was naive and in love and blah blah blah," here, she pauses to take another puff of her cigarette. "Ugh, it's kind of embarrassing to think about.
"So, I'd hear all the rumors circulating through the gossip mill about him: that he was easy, that he was in a street gang, that he was a peddler. I didn't believe any of them until he made a delivery with Junho. I guess he didn't know I worked here, and I had no clue it was his father who kept the blocks. Coincidence, right? Sometimes I wonder." she snubs out her cigarette and retrieves another, offering another to Taemin as well, who accepts silently.
He's disconnectedly intrigued by her recollections--and the insight they might hold--despite the fact he shouldn't care. He's got to get over it.
"Well," Sungyoung goes on through another cloud of smoke, "He had some explaining to do after that. Junho and I had been friends for awhile, before middle school, and he was kinda like an older brother to me. To find out he had gotten involved with thugs--big time, no joke kkangpae--well, that upset me more than Minho's affiliations." her expression is very sober and calm as she speaks, "I know Minho killed Junho. But I'm not there in my story yet.
"Minho gave me a lot of shit when I asked him all sorts of questions, but I got him to admit the truth. It annoyed him that I knew so much about him, I could tell, but at the same time, he looked relieved. It was totally weird. I felt oddly privileged then, and he made me promise to keep it all a secret. But you already know, don't you. I'm sure you do. So I can tell you." Another pause for a long drag. Taemin looks up at the sky, suddenly so, so tired.
"Autumn was ending when I asked him to consider dating me seriously. I said I didn't care if he was kkangpae, my family's grown up indebted anyway. He laughed--at me--and said, I remember his exact words, ' This isn't some penny romance novel where everything is okay in the end just because of love. ' When he said that, I slapped him and then I cried. Not my best moment. I said I'd put my all into our relationship, what more do you want? He looked surprised. Fucking surprised! I didn't get it. Looking back on it, it's cuz he's got a problem, like, when it comes to connecting with people. He always stays close-by, but never close enough to get a hold of." Sunyoung sighs. "It sucks. I really hate him for it.
"The day after that, he ended it. He said he was sorry, but I could tell he had no idea what he was apologizing for. It made me so mad, but I was also crushed. I felt used--I know, I set myself up for it. But still, you know what I mean?"
Taemin doesn't, not really, but he nods anyway.
"Then you come into the picture. I was like, whoa, where did this kid come from? Junho complained about you a lot. He was jealous and pissed off at Minho for being so preoccupied and for ignoring him or whatever. I'm sure he was on to you two. I was. Women's intuition, yeah. He told me I ought to get with him, to get even. I know that's a really lame way to ask a girl out, but he was too stubborn--and too shy--I knew he'd liked me for awhile, but I'd always shut him down. I thought, what harm could a date do? He actually treated me really nice.
"Tell me, did Minho ever surprise you? Probably not, I imagine. Junho did all these romantic things for me. I wasn't used to it." Sungyoung had let most of her cigarette burn and fall away, too caught up in her reflection. Her expression has become stonier and more grim the farther along she gets. "I should have let Junho get to you back then. If he had beat the shit out of you, you'd know this was serious business. It's dangerous to mingle with these people--especially for you, and you know why. It would have been in your best interest--and mine."
Taemin doesn't like the turn this story is taking. Sunyoung flicks her cigarette off into the distance; it rolls, still burning on one end.
"I'm not saying this cuz I'm jealous. It's got nothing to do with that. I was happy with Junho, for the few weeks I had him. I could blame you for it all, but it's not really your fault, is it? Junho wasn't perfect of course. He had anger issues and a general resentment for anyone better than him. He'd been pulling at the chains way before you showed up. What did him in was when Minho got the promotion he had worked so hard for. But still," Sunyoung's hands have begun to tremble, cold. "Was that any reason to kill him? Maybe I don't know all the facts. I'm not involved--it's not my world, though sometimes I catch glimpses of it." her voice catches in her throat, pitch wavering. She's trying not to cry. "Just--" she swallows. "Why? It's like, you never know how important someone really is to you until you lose them. I thought--I'd taken for granted that Junho was going to be around forever. It just felt like the natural way of things. Then suddenly, just like that, he's gone. Just like that." Hot tears are rolling down Sunyoung's cheeks now, the floodgates had been opened. She turns her face into Taemin's shoulder, choked sobs wetting his coat. He's not sure what to say--or how to comfort her. Frankly, he's still speechless. It had never occurred to him that Junho was another person--another human being just like anyone else. Listening to Sunyoung's crying only pushes him into a further state of mental disarray.
She sobs, punching him in the shoulder. "I wish I could blame you! I wish it was your fault."
But it was Minho's, and Sunyoung still loved him too. That's what she couldn't say, but Taemin knows--she had made it clear.
He wraps an arm around her shoulder, awkwardly trying to be of some use, until Sunyoung calms down enough to breathe normally. She pushes away from him, nose pink and runny, eyes puffy and red.
"I'm sorry." she says, "But I can't not hate you. And I can't forgive you--or Minho--for what he did. You should take all this as a warning and get the hell away from him. He's bad news. I can't believe I ever loved him." She angrily taps out a third cigarette; this time she does not offer Taemin one. "I'm going to kill him one day." she says through a loud huff off smoke. "I'm sure I'm not the only one."
The way she says it, face drawn and broken like some fresh corpse, Taemin does not doubt her determination. And he wants to run away, to curl up somewhere alone and unreachable by anyone---any human. People, he thinks--people are just too much.
Sunyoung sniffs one last time, then gets to her feet. "If you decide to ignore everything I've just told you and go back to Minho, which I'm sure you will--you think you're special, don't you? Well, let him know. Tell him what I told you. You owe me that much." And with that, she turns and goes back into the shop, slamming the door behind her.
Taemin stays where he is long after she's gone, trapped in his thoughts. This is something so unimaginable, so indescribable--this is something he can't tell just anyone about. Sunyoung had shared a part of herself that Taemin did not want. But now he has it--and no way to get rid of it. It hurts. Maybe for her sake, or for his own selfish reasons. Nothing make senses, these days.
She had given him an unshakeable burden--a truth wrought out as subtle revenge. It had never occurred to Taemin that Junho was anything more than a cruel, sardonic bastard. In fact, his death had hardly crossed Taemin's mind. It had been treated so casually--how could he have known the damage it had caused?
By the time he makes it home, all he has the energy to do is collapse into bed. His dreams are riddled with nightmarish scenes, bloody massacres, shiny knives, and Minho's lopsided grin, as if he was enjoying every second of it.
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note; So, there are four more parts of this story total. Chapter 31 and 32, and two more ~interludes~, one in Minho's POV and one in Eunsook's. I haven't finished chapter 32, but everything else is written, I'm still working on typing it up. And I'm getting internet in my flat tomorrow. \\\o///