Call Me Oppa (12/?): wynnetimate

wynnetimate

Call Me Oppa (12/?)

Aug 21, 2011 22:19

C H A P T E R 1 2

Jinki was standing at the bus stop. Thick mist blanketed the street, obscuring the buildings and soaking up sound. A bird called out. It sounded far away through the fog, but it must have been in one of the trees lining the street, or on the powerlines. No other birds called back, and so the bird carried on a one-sided conversation for a few minutes before giving up. The bus was late, or Jinki was early. He checked his watch but the numbers were wiggly and didn't make sense.

He decided to walk to school. If he was late, being any later wouldn't make much of a difference. And if he was early, he could walk in the time it took for the next bus to come. Jinki paused to think about that; it usually took longer than fifteen minutes to walk all the way to the high school, but today he was sure that he could make it.

As Jinki turned to start walking, he heard the familiar roar and rumble approaching. He looked over his shoulder to see the bus careening up the hill, the driver staring pointedly ahead. Jinki broke into a dead run. I have to beat that bus to school!

Jinki willed his feet to move faster, bookbag slamming against the backs of his thighs. He could hear the bus coming up behind him, drawing almost level, but somehow Jinki managed to stay just ahead. His breath was whistling through his lungs, and his calves screamed with the effort, but he was doing it! He was beating the bus!

The sidewalk seemed to move like a conveyor belt, speeding Jinki along. He could see the school over the hill, just right there- Jinki heard the sound of his sneakers scraping pavement before he registered that he was tripping over his own feet, and then he was falling, almost in slow motion, the pavement rushing up to meet him. Jinki couldn't get his hands out fast enough, but it was strangely painless as his chin collided with the concrete and he bounced, landing on his ass. He felt the gush of blood, saw it splattered across the sidewalk like it had burst into bloom, but there was no sensation, only numbness. As he watched the bus rush past, Jinki heard someone laughing behind him.

"It's not funny," Jinki griped. He picked himself up off the ground and turned around to find Taesun shaking, practically sobbing with mirth, tears streaming from his eyes with his hands clapped over his mouth. He was hysterical. Jinki scowled, but it was hardly threatening with his face pouring blood like a fountain. It was almost comical, the amount of blood. It pooled around his feet in a sticky puddle with a consistency like paint.

"Shouldn't you be at school already?" Jinki wondered. "You just missed the bus."

Taesun was wearing a school uniform, but for some reason it was the burgundy-and-gold jacket from Jinki's middle school. He waved his hands in front of his face, trying to catch his breath.

"Where's your brother? At school?" Jinki asked.

Taesun couldn't answer. After several attempts to catch his breath, only to dissolve into another fit of laughter, Jinki gave up on getting a clear answer out of him. He turned around and started walking back home. He wasn't going to win the race now, and Mr. Han couldn't possibly fault him for missing class when he was bleeding so much. As he walked back the way he came, Jinki tried to decide if his chin would need stitches. It didn't hurt too much, but he'd need a mirror to be sure.

Jinki rounded the corner of his street, and then paused, confused. His house wasn't there. In fact, there weren't any houses at all. He was staring across the soccer field at the back of the school gym. The rest of the school seemed to have been dismantled and moved; there was only empty space behind the gym, a featureless field stretching out to the horizon.

Ha, I beat the bus here anyway.

The gym door opened, and the soccer team came out in uniform, all of them dressed for a match in home jerseys and cleats. Coach Yongyeom was last out the door, and when he saw Jinki he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Lee Jinki! Get your ass over here!"

Jinki jogged across the grass. "Sorry I'm late," he said. "I fell and busted my chin and-"

There was a slam, and Taemin stumbled out of the gym. His uniform was in disarray, as though he'd pulled it on in a rush. The buttons on his shirt were in the wrong holes. When he looked up from underneath his bangs, his lips were puffy and spit-shined. There was something smeared on his cheek, catching the light, and Jinki almost gagged because he knew what it was.

"Told you," said one of the forwards. He smirked at Jinki, and reached forward to ruffle Taemin's hair. Taemin made an awful face, like he was about to throw up. "He's got pretty lips for a boy. Sucks cock like a champ."

Yah! How the fuck-

"-can you fall asleep in here?"

Jinki startled awake. Jonghyun was crouched next to the couch, his face six inches away. He let his hand drop from Jinki's shoulder.

"Hyung, seriously."

"I- what?" Jinki wiped the drool from his face and sat up. The piping from the couch had pressed a deep line across his cheek.

Jonghyun wrinkled his nose. "Do you know how filthy that couch is? Manager-sshi sits there."

The thought of the manager's slime soaked into the fabric made Jinki a little queasy. He wiped harder at his cheek. "Gross. Think I can sneak out early to take a shower?"

There was a pause. "Uh, hyung, it's like quarter after eight. You were done fifteen minutes ago."

"What? No, it isn't." Jinki fumbled in his pockets for his cell phone, and then remembered tossing it in his bag before collapsing onto the couch in the break room. He had only meant to close his eyes for a few minutes. Did he really sleep to the end of his shift?

"I thought you were in the back or something. Jesus. You all right?"

Jinki rifled through his bag, pulling out his sweater and reaching into the bottom. "I'm fine. Just late. I told Taemin I'd pick him up after work. We're visiting my dad together tomorrow morning." He finally closed his hand around his phone and flipped it open to send a text message: running kinda late, be there in 15 xox.

"You don't look all right," Jonghyun hedged.

"Had a fucked-up dream," Jinki said, shrugging off Jonghyun's concern. "Broke my face trying to race a bus."

Jonghyun laughed. "The fuck? Hyung, maybe you need to drop some hours."

"Can't. Saving up."

"For school?"

Jinki debated telling Jonghyun that he wouldn't be going this year, but he didn't have time for that conversation right now. He shrugged his coat on and left it unzipped. "Thanks for waking me up. Don't tell Manager-sshi I was sleeping, okay?"

Jinki was infinitely grateful that his mother had let him have the car today. He didn't think he was in the mood to take the bus. The receptionist at the studio's front desk was the same girl from last time, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, eyebrows arching from the strain. She smiled at Jinki when he came in. "Oh, it's you again," she said brightly.

Jinki gave a tight smile. Her top was low-cut, and the way she leaned forward on her elbows pushed her cleavage high. He tried not to stare, but it was right there, and Jinki couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if Taemin had a rack like that. Well, not exactly like that. If Taemin had breasts, Jinki decided, they would be smaller.

The receptionist misinterpreted the stare - oh shit, you're staring! Look away, look away! - and smiled with her tongue pressed between her front teeth. "You should sign up for something if you're going to be stopping by all the time," she said. "I shadow the instructor for Latin dancing, you know." She put her hands up and clapped imaginary castanets.

"I'm not much of a dancer," Jinki admitted. "Two left feet. I'm just here to pick up Taemin."

There was a beat, and then the receptionist's smile went funny. Her lips pulled back to show teeth, but her head cocked to the side and it came across a little indulgent. "Oh," she said, clipped. "Are you close?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Jinki said carefully. Key had implied that Taemin was more out at dance, but Jinki was learning that the spheres of Taemin's life came in gradients rather than black-and-white. Being out at the studio only meant that Taemin could clip his hair with a cute barette and practice in toe shoes after the main group left. It was a far cry from Taeyeon, purring oppa behind the locked door of Jinki's room, but it was better than the boxy boys' uniform at school. Jinki didn't want to be the one slipping up and saying too much, compromising whatever small haven Taemin had found here.

"He's a good dancer," the receptionist said. Her tone implied that it was the one nice thing she had to say about Taemin. "Junsu-sshi thinks so, anyway. I do the billing forms so I know he doesn't charge for the extra lessons."

Jinki said nothing. When he didn't respond, the girl laughed conspiratorially.

"Pervert! I didn't mean it that way!"

That was exactly what she meant. The desk phone rang, and she glanced at the number. With her hand on the receiver, she gestured down the hall. "Go on in."

Jinki breathed out a reluctant thanks and turned away as the girl answered the phone with a bright, "Hi, how can I help you?"

The last door was the only one closed and occupied, but there was no ridiculously loud music blaring on the other side. Jinki let himself in, and for a moment he looked around in confusion. There was no one dancing on the floor, although the CD player was running through a piano concerto on low volume. He took a few hesitent steps inside, and then noticed two figures huddled in the corner.

Taemin was sitting on a stack of gym mats, his chin raised. Junsu stood between his knees with one hand cradling the back of Taemin's head. For a blood-boiling moment, Jinki thought that they were kissing - their faces were so close - but then Junsu leaned away, and Jinki realized that he had only been examining something on Taemin's face. Jinki was disappointed with himself for the jumped-to conclusion. He was as bad as the girl at the front desk.

"... could use a light foundation," Junsu was saying. "Just not too much or it'll show under the lights."

Taemin leaned over, catching sight of Jinki in the mirror. "Hyung," he said, and Jinki realized what Junsu had been looking at.

Taemin had a black eye. It was already dark, almost a plum purple, the edges going the colour of a coffee stain. Recent, obviously. It hadn't been there in the morning during calculus. Jinki opened his mouth to ask, but Taemin cut him off by hopping down from the gym mats and wrapping his arms around Jinki, squeezing out the air that had been intended for questions.

"I'll tell you later," he said, muffled into Jinki's coat. "Okay?"

When he pulled away, Jinki lifted a hand to touch the edge of the bruise, tracing the outline. Taemin winced, but didn't jerk away like Jinki thought he would. "Okay," Jinki agreed.

Taemin tugged at Jinki's coat, pulling it from his shoulders. "Do you want to see what I've been practicing?" He asked. Taemin's voice was soft and there was a note of pleading, please let me change the subject, please let it be.

"Uh, sure."

Junsu's eyes flicked between the two of them, and the furrow between his eyebrows suggested that he was sizing Jinki up, trying to figure out the extent of their relationship. Taemin probably hadn't given Junsu a tell you later. After a moment Junsu clapped his hands together. "Well then, Taeminnie. One more time before we call it a night?"

Junsu went to the stereo and pressed play, twisting the volume loud. The song was different from the last time. Still soft, still slow, but rather than an instrumental arrangement it was an acoustic guitar and a man's voice crooning in English, rough and warbled. Simple, unassuming music. Jinki sat down against the mirrored wall to watch as Taemin took up position in the middle of the floor. Taemin had his eyes closed, listening to the first chords with his feet at a right angle, and when the voice started in, almost pained, some tone seemed to hit Taemin the right way and he exploded into movement.

On the tips of his toes, Taemin spun across the room, leaping and twisting. There was something sensual about the stripped-down guitar coupled with the singer's honest voice, how it shook and quavered; an emotional singer rather than a gifted one. Taemin's hair whipped at his face as he spun, his back arching, leg lifted high. Jinki spared a look to his side where Junsu had his arms crossed, frowning at some mistake that Jinki didn't have the eye to catch. During the chorus, when the strings started in, Taemin dropped to the floor, writhing in rhythm, and it was impossible to see it as anything but sexual: his hips lifted off the floor, lips parted, and his spine curved into a graceful arch, shirt riding up to reveal the pale expanse of his tummy as he tumbled over.

At the end of the second chorus, Taemin went limp on the floor; a rather dramatic finish, his chest rising and falling fast. Junsu turned the stereo off, the music cutting out sharply. "It's not done," Taemin explained into the tense quiet. "There's still, like, a minute and a half of choreography to work on."

Junsu was sitting on top of the mats, tugging the laces loose on his shoes. "It'll be your audition piece," he said.

Taemin's eyes widened in surprise, but the bruised eye didn't open quite as much as the other and it gave his face a strange asymmetry. "You mean, for this year?"

"Why not? You could get in for the summer semester, start early."

Taemin bit his lip as he mulled that over. "I'll think about it, sonsaengnim," he said. Jinki stood and offered his hand, hauling Taemin to his feet.

"Good night, Taemin," Junsu said as they left. "Be careful."

In the boys' changeroom, Jinki watched Taemin unwind the tape from his ankle and change into jeans and a tee shirt. Taemin was deep in thought, and he startled when Jinki touched his shoulder to get his attention. Smiling apologetically, Taemin sank into Jinki's open arms, rubbing his cheek against the cotton of Jinki's shirt and whispering, "Oppa."

"You're auditioning for something?" Jinki prompted.

Taemin looked relieved that was the line of conversation Jinki had decided to follow. "Yeah, there's an arts' school in Jeollabuk-do. It's not so far away, but I would have to live in the dormitories. I could work on dancing more seriously. And I wouldn't be at home."

"That's... probably for the best."

"Yeah."

"Did you go home today? Is that where...?"

Taemin took in a shaky breath. He was blinking quickly, eyelashes scraping against Jinki's arm, but stubbornly he held back whatever tears had been brewing. "Yeah, can we, um, leave it?"

Jinki shrugged. It was easy enough to connect the dots on this one without Taemin needing
to spell it out. At least it wasn't another haircut.

Jinki's mother was waiting in the kitchen, and as soon as the door opened she sprang up from her seat and clomped in her heels to the front room where Jinki and Taemin were shrugging off their coats. "Jinki," she whined, "why are you late? You promised you'd be back by eight thirty."

"It's my fault," Taemin said quietly. And then, noticing that she was dressed up he added, "You look really pretty tonight, Jinki-eomma."

Eomma softened at that, forgetting that she was annoyed in light of the compliment. "Kamsa ha- Omo! Taemin-ah, your eye."

"Eomma," Jinki warned.

"I'm okay," Taemin lied easily. "I wasn't paying attention and walked into someone's locker."

"Oh, you poor thing," Jinki's mother cooed. She slipped on her coat, and stepped closer to get a better look at the bruise ringed around Taemin's eye. "You got this today? There are gel packs in the freezer; you should ice it to keep the bruise from getting bigger."

Taemin looked uncomfortable with the close attention, so Jinki asked, "Where are you going, eomma?"

"I'm going out with some friends. For dinner and noraebang, and I'm late." Jinki's mother took the car keys from Jinki's hand, and pecked him on the cheek before rushing out the door.

"Well." Jinki didn't really know what to make of that, so he just slipped off his shoes and followed Taemin into the living room. On the couch, finally in private, Jinki pressed his lips to the corner of Taemin's eye and then to his lips. They shifted around until Taemin had his head on Jinki's lap, and Jinki absently carded his fingers through Taemin's hair as he tried to find something on TV. After sitting through a block of commercials, Taemin nuzzled his face into Jinki's thighs and mumbled something.

"What?"

"I said, I'm kind of nervous to meet your dad tomorrow. Is that stupid?"

"No," Jinki sighed. He twisted to get both legs on the couch, and Taemin rested his chin on Jinki's stomach, staring through his heavy bangs. "I doubt he'll get who you are anyway, so there's no point in worrying about it. But I understand. Dads are scary when you don't know them too well."

"Do you find my dad scary?"

Jinki looked carefully at Taemin's face. The bruise around his eye was puffy and purple; not the kind of shiner that comes from walking into a locker, but from a heavy-handed punch. Jinki couldn't imagine anything that would drive him to punch another person, let alone Taemin. "Yeah," Jinki said. "Yeah, I do."

"Me too."

Jinki pulled Taemin into the tightest hug he could give. He kissed the top of Taemin's head, his ears, his cheeks, his neck. "You don't deserve any of that," Jinki said. "Taeminnie, never think that you do."

They fell asleep on the couch with the television on. Early in the morning, Jinki heard the crunch of a key in the front lock, and blinked awake, registering faintly that he was wrapped around Taemin and any movement would only wake him. There was a familiar voice along with Jinki's mother's, speaking softly but audibly, "Your shoes, noona-" two loud clunks came from the closet "-ah, don't fall. Hold onto my neck. Yeah, like that. Come on, noona, you need to go to sleep."

Jinki tried to work his arm from underneath Taemin, cradling the back of his head to keep from startling him awake. Jinki managed to get his arm free without incident, and when he sat up to look over the back of the couch, Taemin curled into the warm spot Jinki left.

"Jageunabeoji?"

Kyeochul put his hand over his heart. "Jinki. You startled me." He had Jinki's mother draped over one shoulder. She was quite obviously too intoxicated to stand, leaning most of her weight on Kyeochul and balancing unsure on her feet. Kyeochul didn't look entirely sober himself - his tie was loose, shirt buttoned wrong. "Were you sleeping on the couch? I'm sorry if you were waiting up for your mother."

"You were with her?"

Kyeochul made a face. "She didn't...? Oh." He mouthed the last part, but Jinki still caught the unspoken curse, oh shit. "I thought you'd be in bed," Kyeochul explained, and Jinki winced because if that didn't spell it out...

"I take it you didn't go to noraebang," Jinki said.

Kyeochul swallowed. "No. I'll just put her to bed and go."

Jinki wanted to say, don't bother. Kyeochul had obviously been putting Jinki's mother to bed a lot lately. Instead he said, "You do that."

Jinki didn't see his mother in the morning, but he could hear her being sick into the toilet. Taemin looked unsettled by the sound until Jinki reassured him it was fine, just a hangover, let's go. If there was one person who understood the need for silence, it was Taemin. So he didn't ask. Just slipped on his coat and followed Jinki to the car.

Jinki's father was resting when they got to the hospital; not sleeping, the nurse said as she readjusted the blinds to let in more light, just closing his eyes. "Isn't that right, Mr. Lee?"

Jinki's father grunted in response.

The nurse's hair clip today was shaped like a pair of clasped hands. Jinki didn't think he'd seen the same clip twice - maybe she collected them. There was a beeping from the hall, and the nurse mumured, "Excuse me," as she squeezed past Taemin and hurried out. There were flowers on the table near the window, a gift from Kyeochul in lieu of an actual visit, and the big yellow lilies were starting to a wilt a little at the edges, browning slightly. Swallowing the urge to throw them in the garbage, Jinki moved the vase a few inches away from the edge of the table. It left behind a brown ring of water.

Taemin seemed reluctant to follow Jinki into the room. He hung back in the doorway, biting his lip and holding onto his elbow behind his back, scuffing at the floor with the toe of his sneaker. He looked around at the dull green walls, the white vinyl flooring, taking it all in without a word. Jinki waited for his eyes to fall on the hospital bed where his father was resting, but Taemin seemed intent on saving that point of interest for last.

"You can come in," Jinki said. He pulled the extra chair away from the window and put it down next to his usual seat at the bedside.

Taemin inched forward. "So, you just..."

"Talk to him, yeah."

As if on cue, Jinki's father opened his eyes. He frowned at Jinki. "You again?"

"Yeah, appa. I brought a friend today."

Taemin came over to the bed and smiled hesitantly, just a press of his lips. "Annyeong haseyo, ahjusshi. I'm Lee Taemin."

Jinki's father squinted at Taemin for a moment. He frowned. "What happened to your eye?"

Taemin gave an embarrassed cough, reaching up to cover his bruised eye with his sleeve. "Clumsy, I guess. Walked into a locker."

"Liar."

Taemin looked over at Jinki, but Jinki was at a loss for words as well. He gave a helpless shrug.

"Appa, I brought dragon fruit today. It was on sale, and since you didn't like the bananas I brought last time..."

"Dragon fruit is fine." Jinki's father pressed his lips together and smacked them loudly. "Is it very ripe?"

"Yeah, it's good. Here." Jinki pulled the ziploc bag out of his backpack and pulled it open. He took a slice of pale, seeded fruit and held it out. When his father didn't reach for it, Jinki slid his chair forward so he could feed it to him. Appa took a bite and chewed.

"That's good," he said. He opened up for another bite. "Thank you, Kyeochul."

Jinki grimaced. "Yeah. Yeah, you're welcome, appa."

Taemin was frowning at his hands. He'd sat down on the other chair, clutching his bag in his lap. His cell phone charm was wound around one finger. "It's Jinki," he said quietly.

Appa finished the piece of dragon fruit, chewing wetly. He ate like a small child, still discovering the configuration of his jaw, and after he swallowed he pressed his teeth together, making an audible creak. Jinki put a hand on his cheek; the grinding sound made his own teeth hurt. "Appa, Taemin is a very close friend of mine. I wanted him to meet you."

"Is he on the soccer team?"

Jinki smirked at the thought. "No, appa. He's not really into soccer."

"Then why...?"

"I just wanted you to meet him. That's all."

"Oh. Do you have more fruit?"

"Yeah, I brought a ton." Jinki reached into the bag for another slice, and spared a look at Taemin. He was staring at his lap and clutching his cell phone with a white-knuckled grip, squeezing it hard between his palms. When he looked up, Jinki mouthed, are you okay?

"I'm... I'm going to wait outside," Taemin whispered. He stood and bowed, "It was nice meeting you, ahjusshi," and gave Jinki an unreadable look before he left.

"He's funny," Jinki's father said, and Jinki knew he didn't mean hilarious.

Taemin was waiting on one of the plastic benches that lined the hallway. He was frowning at his lap, sliding his rosary through his fingers, and didn't look up when Jinki sat down next to him. He whispered amen at the end of his silent prayer and asked, “Does he always call you that? He thinks you're Kyeochul?”

"Not always. Sometimes he remembers that it's Jinki."

“That’s...” Taemin sounded like he was swallowing tears. “That’s hard. Will he be like that forever?”

Jinki shrugged. "Maybe. Brain injuries are so..." He held out his hand and waved it from side-to-side. "He might remember slowly, might not at all. I just find it so... I don't know. It hurts a little, yeah, that he remembers Kyeochul and not me, when I'm the one who visits him all the time. It's Kyeochul's fault he's here in the first place, and he hasn't even come to see him once, you know. But I guess he's known Kyeochul longer, so- hey, what? Why are you crying?"

Taemin shook his head. He wasn’t crying hard, just tearing up, but it was the uncontrollable kind of tearing, hot and fast, streaming down his cheeks faster than he could wipe it away. “It’s nothing. Just... sad for you, I guess.”

Jinki started to rub circles on Taemin's shoulders. "Hey, Taemin-ah, it's okay." Taemin made a sound that started out as a self-deprecating laugh and ended somewhere between a sigh and a sob.

“And now look, you’re the one comforting me. I should be comforting you.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Jinki said. He'd been dealing with this for months, and it was getting easier to accept. Still hard, but easier than before. Taemin was still rubbed raw from yesterday.

A group of people were coming down the hall, and they slowed down as they passed Jinki and Taemin, shooting Jinki a sympathetic look. It wasn't hard to imagine what they saw: two boys outside of a hospital room, one near tears and the other whispering, it's gonna be okay, it'll be okay. They probably thought it was Taemin with a sick-or-dying relative. They were fascinated by his vulnerability.

Taemin wiped furiously at his face with his sleeves and breathed out hard. "Don't- don't be so sweet right now. If you knew what I was thinking you would hate me."

"No. I wouldn't," Jinki said without hesitation. But just in case, he asked, "What were you thinking?"

Taemin stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. He wrinkled his nose, disgusted with himself. "It's just so selfish. I wished that my dad would forget my name like yours."

"You know what, Taemin? I'd wish for that too."

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fic: call me oppa, pairing: onew/taemin