Coming Undone
Title: Coming Undone
Pairing: 2min
Genre: Romance, drama
Rating: PG
Summary: Taemin's a popular young actor who's facing death threats from an anti fan; Minho's the bodyguard he didn't want.
A/N: i really don't like this. the scenes are choppy and the editing still sloppy despite the additional time given D: 'i'm busy in rl' would be an excuse but i think it's just procrastination. i really apologize to whomever's reading this; the prompt was really lovely but i did it no justice. this, i'd like to believe is also not representation of my usual writing. ugh.
“I said I don’t want a body guard. This is ridiculous.” Taemin crossed his arms, sinking further into the plush sofa.
He looked at the middle-aged man pleadingly but in return, the older gave him a helpless expression.
“Taemin-ah. It’s really neither in my control nor your decision any further. Kim Junsung-sshi had to have a skin graft, as you know; fortunately he has no intention of suing our agency. The upper management is very alarmed though and they insist. So I beg of you, Taemin, listen to me.”
The young actor’s icy no-nonsense façade slipped a little on hearing about his manager’s plight. A shiver ran up his spine. It could have very well been him receiving the skin graft.
“Junsung-hyung is alright?” Taemin asked, his voice small; thumbs twiddling.
“Junsung will be fine. But he really wants for you to be assigned a bodyguard too. He-hell, all of us- is afraid that you’ll really end up badly injured, or heaven forbid, dead.”
He might pretend to be fearless and mighty, but deep inside him there was the palpable nagging of raw fear that manifested and refused to go away ever since the day he received a homemade bomb that damn near killed him had his manager not been the one holding onto it.
Taemin reluctantly nodded.
“Attempt on his life?”
People nowadays had warped minds, Minho thought distastefully as he carefully rewrapped the glove around his hand before punching the sandbag once more.
“Minho-yah, are you listening to me?” Came an exasperated voice before its owner held fast to the sandbag and glared at him.
“Yes hyung, I am.”
“So what are your thoughts?”
“As I said, I don’t want the job.”
“But why.” The older man could have whined. Then again, they’d been on this topic for close to half an hour.
“Hyung. I don’t want to play nanny to a teenage actor.”
Lee Donghae had been attempting (fairly unsuccessfully) to coerce Choi Minho, bodyguard extraordinaire (also, one of his staff, generally obedient and cooperative, but not this time).
“It’s not really a manny-guarding job in this case. No kids or wives on this case.” He tried humor but it only resulted in a raised eyebrow.
“He’s not really a teenager? He’s… 21!” Donghae declared triumphantly, looking at his case file in his hands. Minho just gave him a vaguely placating- withering look. Donghae gave up and did the pitiful act.
“I have no one else that I can send in for this job, Minho-ah. You’re one of the best.”
Minho gave a long suffering sigh.
“Hyung. It’s a potentially long term job, with a spoiled teenage actor whose miserly company wants a bodyguard that doubles as a manager and driver. Am I missing out anything?”
“It’s possibly dangerous?”
Another long sigh and Donghae knew it was too early to gloat but he did anyway- apparently the pathetic act worked every time.
“They better pay well enough for this.”
Nothing in the world paid well enough for this, thought Minho somewhat sardonically.
If the saboteur didn’t get to his client first; maybe he would. He’d always disliked taking celebrity jobs- unlike some colleagues at the agency that relished and integrated well with them-, he found them too fake and fussy and annoying. He preferred the reclusive millionaire sort; no need for any conversation (barring the weather and possibly the stock market) or interaction of any sort.
Not that there was much interaction between him and the young actor kid. The younger pointedly refused to speak to him (which was fine) and seemed to dislike him from their first meeting (which was absurd) at the agency. He did his work as best as he could with Taemin pretending he was non-existent, but after a while even he got annoyed. In fact, the younger avoided him like the plague so much, Minho actually knew the other celebrities and staff members of the agency better than he knew his charge.
Aside for the regular slew of high profile actors and actresses- Kim Heechul, Choi Siwon, Im Yoona- there were also music artistes such as f(x), TVXQ as well as popular pop-r&b-ballad duo, Dreamvoices(but better known as Jongyu by their ardent fans)- the latter with their stylist, Kim-Kibum-call-me-Key had actually struck a conversation with him several times.
They were infinitely friendlier than Taemin, thought Minho rather uncharitably as he sat in a dressing room with the trio while Taemin went to guest star on some variety show. Key had spotted him waiting rather stupidly outside the studio and had invited him in to chit chat.
“He’s a believer in method acting.” Key said, without looking at him. The stylist had his hands full just arranging the untamed ruffles on Jonghyun’s shirt.
Why won’t the blasted things stay down; stupid shirt, Minho thought he heard the man mutter.
‘Um, what?’ he thought faintly. All these entertainment types were going to drive him mad one day.
Key seemed to realize that there was no reply and turned to notice Minho’s slightly confused expression.
“Method acting. A technique in which the actor tries to create in him the thoughts and emotions of the character. Or what you laymen call immersing yourself in the role.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Key simply looked at him rather pityingly.
“He resents you because it means he’s failed. You are the representation of how he’s failed as an actor.”
“I’m not really getting this.” MInho spit out irritably.
“Hold on to this for a moment.” Key handed him the end of some sort of belt on Jinki’s shirt while he furiously tugged on the other. The older singer smiled at him while he said,
“Jjong and I have known Taemin-ah since our trainee days. He’s always been a really nice kid really. But as what Kibum says, ever since Taemin found his niche in acting, he’s always subscribed to the notion of method acting. He gets very affected by his roles and that in turn, affects his image and character as well.”
Jonghyun nodded his enthusiastic agreement as another stylist sprayed hairspray onto his brown locks, keeping them frozen in place.
“It’s hard to get along with Taeminnie at first, but he’s very nice if you get to know him.”
Minho looked at him skeptically; that probably wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
___
Minho finally lost it. He gripped the steering wheel hard; glad that they were stationary, parked in a lot and not on the road.
“Well, with that attitude of yours, I’m not surprised someone wants your life!”
The moment he said it; Minho bit the side of his cheek. He definitely let his emotions rule over his head- it was extremely unprofessional and awfully rude. Taemin’s face crumpled but he quickly regained composure.
“I’ll let the management know, you won’t have to see me again.”
He said coolly and calmly stepped out of the car and shut it with a curt click. Minho wanted to slam his head against the dashboard as he watched the actor walk away.
The door was ajar and Taemin had a moment of abject terror. He backed into the lift and furiously hit the button for the first floor while pulling his cellphone out. His pride insisted that he could handle this alone but survival came first.
Minho was still in the car park of the apartment complex when he received the call.
“Um. Minho-sshi… Can you come up for a moment? I’m at the first floor lift lobby. My apartment door… was…is opened halfway and I’m not sure if…”
This was probably the most Taemin had spoke to him in the three weeks they’d known each other and it unsettled him.
“Stay where you are, I’ll be there in a minute.” Minho had a sinking feeling. This definitely did not bode well. He rushed toward the apartment complex where Taemin was standing at the lift lobby. He looked slightly pale and discomfited but Minho understood. He gave him a sharp nod before they went up to Taemin’s floor once more. The two were deathly silent and the few steps from the lift to the apartment felt like torture.
“Walk behind me.” Minho commanded and Taemin looked like he wanted to protest but gave up and ended up (somewhat) trailing behind him.
The scene that greeted them was horrifying. Minho had heard of anti-fans who did ridiculous things but this took the cake. This was absolutely a case where the saboteur was honestly out for Taemin’s life. Next to him, he heard Taemin exhale sharply and felt him tremble.
“Damn…”
Minho wasn’t really good with reassuring people but he instinctively wrapped an arm around the younger boy who seemed to completely let go of his façade. Taemin buried his entire face into the crook of Minho’s neck and let the older man support his weight.
he didn’t want to look
The level of damage was no laughing matter; the entire apartment looked as if a tornado had hit it, things were strewn everywhere, furniture overturned and glass broken.
“It’s alright. I’m here.”
The younger man looked at him tentatively, eyes wide with relief and Minho felt the oddest skip from deep inside.
The next few hours were spent in a chaos of picking up the mess: letting the agency know what happened, calling the police and keeping the press away.
The middle-aged head artiste manager was the first to arrive and he fussed over Taemin and bossed around security.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Taemin nodded, all silent and uncomfortable and actually leaning close to Minho when he returned from speaking with the police and the building’s security people. The manager looked a bit confused with what seemed like Taemin’s change in attitude towards his bodyguard.
“Well. Your schedules are cancelled for tomorrow. We’ll sort this out, meanwhile you need to rest; shall we find you a hotel to stay in? I’ll get Sooin to book one now.”
There was something unspoken in the way Taemin turned to look at Minho.
stay with me
Quite reluctantly, against his own will somewhat, Minho mumbled,
“Kim-sshi, if it’s alright, Taemin-sshi can stay at my apartment while this gets sorted out. I’ll make sure he’s safe.”
Minho himself seemed a little shocked as to what prompted him to offer out his own home to a person whom he could barely tolerate prior to what just happened but he just shook his head slightly as Taemin looked at him, stunned.
“Aah. Taemin, you’re alright with that?”
Taemin nodded shyly.
“I…”
Taemin stood at the doorway of his room, looking out of place and very awkward.
Minho looked at him tiredly-he’d been up almost twenty-eight hours now- hoping the younger would get to the point until it suddenly dawned on him.
he was afraid
Taemin had never struck him as clingy but Minho was aware from all the mandatory psychology classes that he’d been forced to take: the shock was probably a bit hard to wear off. Taemin looked a bit embarrassed and bit his lip.
“You know what, stay here a moment.”
He popped into the guest room for a quick minute, gathering all his things before returning to a confused Taemin.
“You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.”
-----
“But I want to watch television.”
“This is my house.”
Taemin pouted. Actually, really pouted.
The annoying incessant pounding in his ribcage started once again and Minho sighed before saying,
“I don’t think the same technique you use on the fangirls is going to work on me, Taemin.”
“What. I’m not doing anything.” And he tilted his head innocently to the side with a confused expression.
You’re messing up my brain, that’s what you are.
“For a person who acts for a living, I would have thought you’d be sick of television.”
“It’s different!” Taemin insisted.
A good month and a half after the incident and after Taemin moved into Minho’s flat and decided to (probably) never move out, they realized they actually got along fine. Taemin was actually quite a nice agreeable person (if not fighting to watch his TV and stealing his bed) and not to mention, really cute and did strange things to his heart.
“I’ll watch soccer with you if you let me watch Music Bank.”
“Two matches.” Minho said, slightly amused as Taemin looked like he was debating with himself whether it was worth it having to watch two games where twenty-two people chased after a ball just to watch a music program where half-dressed prepubescent boys and girls performed.
“Fine.” And Taemin scrambled to grab the remote control, changing the channel while Minho looked on amused.
After that day where he glimpsed that temporary moment of vulnerability, Minho had been trying to break through that shell of indifference. Why he bothered he had no idea, but there was something just compelling him to do a better job and take care of Taemin.
Key had very gleefully noted that fact, having barged into their flat two days after the incident, fussing madly like a mother hen.
“I think you like Taemin.”
Minho had nearly choked on his drink and gave him a ‘what-are-you-even-saying’ expression.
“Why else would you ask me if I know his favorite dish?”
“I just… don’t want to end up buying something he doesn’t like and won’t eat.”
Key nodded; placating but definitely disbelievingly.
“And his hobbies?”
“Shared interests? Just basic things you should know about somebody who lives with you.”
“Right. And checking out his friends? That’s being so married couple. Or border-line creepy if you prefer.”
“I need to make sure they’re not threats.” Minho crossed his arms around his chest trying to look serious but Key rolled his eyes.
“Whatever. Speaking of threats, do you know if the police have managed to narrow down the culprit?”
Minho shook his head somberly.
“We checked all the tapes but unfortunately on Taemin’s floor, the camera has a blind spot, so we can’t see who accessed it. Everyone else who went into the lift had legitimate reasons for being there so we’re having trouble.”
Key sighed.
“Do you think it’s really an anti-fan?” Minho asked. He personally didn’t think it was. Taemin’s fans had somehow found out about the incident (despite the company’s attempts of keeping everything hushhush) and had rallied together to lambast the culprit online. Fans were apparently all-knowing and made amazing conspiracy theorists.
“I’ve seen my share on anti-fans, working for this agency and really, they can be cruel. But somehow, this is not just typical anti behavior, this is deeper, more criminal.”
Something resonated with Minho.
internal staff?
---
He got into the passenger seat and practically sank into it; wanting to curl up into a ball. He badly wanted to whine but his pride wouldn’t let him. But he was so exhausted- weary down to his bones, practically. He wasn’t sleepy (had long breached that threshold); he was glazed.
Minho started the car but initiated no conversation, until he reached the traffic-light junction. He gestured to the glove compartment.
“Sandwich.”
Taemin wrinkled his nose and absently patted his nonexistent stomach while looking out the window. He deigned to reply.
“Chicken focaccia from A Bientot; no cheese and tomatoes. And there’s banana milk.”
Minho didn’t take his eyes off the road but smiled inwardly (victoriously) when he heard the distinctive crinkling and unwrapping of the paper bag.
“No cookies?” There was a small, tired voice. Minho shook his head.
“Nope. They’re bad for you.”
He took a sneak peek at Taemin. Sure enough, halfway through his sandwich and he was out for the count.
----
“Cut! I want you to channel more emotion, Taemin-sshi. This scene cannot work if you don’t.”
He balled his hands by his side. Why was he not able to do this? He gave Yoona an apologetic look. She just smiled and shook her head understandingly.
“Director Park, let’s do my scene with Joongki-oppa first? Maybe Taemin needs a quick breather.” Yoona cajoled the director expertly. Taemin shot her a look of gratefulness.
The director thought for a moment then nodded.
“In fact, Taemin-sshi, maybe you should take a break for today. We’ll do your scene with Yoona-sshi tomorrow. I hope you come back with something wonderful to present to us.”
And he’d been dismissed like this.
He nodded a little numbly and walked off the set.
Taemin felt Minho trailing after him but refused to say anything until he got into the apartment.
They sat in silence for the longest time until Taemin couldn’t stand the silence any further. He said in a small voice.
“I think the director’s going to kick me off the drama.”
Minho just raised his left eyebrow slightly but let him continue.
“I was awful today. That kiss scene was retaken twelve times.” Taemin gave a small wince when he even thought about it.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
Taemin gave him a doubtful expression.
“Just a little stiff and awkward and unnatural and…”
“Enough.”
Taemin massaged his temples, completely frustrated.
“What am I going to do.”
He looked at Minho dolefully. Then suddenly an idea came to him.
“Why don’t you practice with me?”
Minho looked affronted.
And scandalized.
But as he looked at Taemin’s pathetic begging expression (and the fact that the younger really was quite awful on the set today), he reluctantly agreed.
An hour on, Minho regretted his decision. He was getting decidedly uncomfortable and increasingly annoyed. They were in front of a large mirror and all the inadequacies of Taemin’s acting (or lack of) were glaringly apparent.
“Taemin, what is the problem?”
“I don’t know.”
“I may not be an actor, but I think even I know how to kiss a girl on the cheek.”
Taemin’s eyes flashed with anger. Minho immediately wished he could take that back but still held on to his proud demeanor.
“Then prove it.” Taemin shot back.
And Minho was never one to back down from a challenge.
“Fine.”
Minho looked at him pointedly as if giving a lecture.
“Your character, Soong Jo, is a cold and aloof individual. But even cold, aloof people can go up to a person they like and do this.”
There was a split second where Minho paused and their eyes met. Minho brought his hand to cup Taemin’s right cheek and tenderly kissed the left.
If Director Park were presented, he’d have rated it a perfect ten.
Taemin recoiled from the surprise and Minho’s eyes widened; as if belatedly realizing what he had just done.
The younger backed away an inch but Minho held fast to his tiny wrist. Taemin’s eyes widened and they froze like a tableau, air charged with unspoken words. Finally Minho let go without a word and ruffled Taemin’s hair instead, with a tight grin gracing his face.
Taemin did a perfect job the next day, wowing his co-actors and director with his ‘powerful display of emotions’ but feeling utterly confused. Oddly, there was no difference in the way Minho interacted with him after the moment of awkwardness. They still had dinner together normally, laughed at Star King and Minho still ribbed his acting. It was as if nothing had happened; as if it had all been imagined- and it baffled Taemin.
___
Dressed in a bespoke black suit, he had on a nice light blue pinstriped shirt and a dark red tie. In short, his body guard was a sight for sore eyes.
His throat went dry.
“You…”
He shot him one of his usual quiet brooding gazes but this one- as he learnt how to read them- had the barest hint of amusement and mirth. His bodyguard knew what he was thinking.
Well, damn.
Taemin changed his expression into one of defiance.
“Your tie is ugly.”
This time, Minho visibly stifled a giggle. Very unbecoming of him, Taemin thought sniffily.
“I’ll be sure to pass that comment on to Key.”
Uh. Oops.
“Okay, whatever. Let’s go.”
They were on their way to a company function- and all-dressed-up-thanksgiving sort that involved formal attire. This was to be the last event Minho would accompany him to; Junsung-hyung had recovered and was willing to return to his position as his manager and the saboteur seemed to stop with their pranks so basically the crisis was over.
Taemin felt a strange sense of loss; he’d grown used to Minho’s presence, become almost dependent on the older man. No matter what he told himself; that they were just friends-two people who got along surprisingly well- and he was just one of Minho’s clients, he couldn’t help but think that he was more.
He could be more.
He peeked at Minho surreptitiously from underneath reddish bangs and blushed as he realized the older man was staring at him. He looked away, embarrassed.
“Gentleman, let’s go mingle! Why are two of you standing here like statues.” Jonghyun sashayed over to talk to them, also well dressed and looking every bit the ladies man.
“Where’s Jinki-hyung?”
“My partner abandoned me to go talk to Luna. My life is hard.” Jonghyun said theatrically just as a female manager called Taemin over.
“I’ll be right back.”
When Taemin was out of earshot, Jonghyun whispered loudly,
“So how’s it going?”
“How what’s going?”
“Key tells me that you’re going to leave soon? But you haven’t confessed told Taemin how you feel.”
Apparently, idols were really gossipy and talked about other people’s relationships in their free time.
“We’re not little kids in high school. Confession?”
Minho looked over to where Taemin was speaking to the female manager and had an awful sensation suddenly run up his spine. Something was wrong; her expression was strange and the tense waves coming off Taemin were ridiculously strong. He started to move.
“But he likes you too, I’m sure of it….”
Minho didn’t hear the rest of what Jonghyun was saying, because he had sprinted across the room and pushed Taemin away just as the lady stabbed out at him with a Swiss army knife.
----
Taemin roused slightly at the shifting sound and almost had a heart attack; eyes shooting wide open when he saw the previously comatose man half sitting up, staring at his laptop intently and actually scrolling the touchpad.
“You’re...awake!”
Minho looked at him and smiled as he looked back at the screen.
“Oppa, your bodyguard is so handsome, he should be a celebrity too ^^” Minho read off the screen in a strange pitched falsetto. Taemin was now fully awake and had no idea whether to laugh or to cry. Trying to keep his emotions down he looked over to the laptop where indeed, there were over a dozen similar comments. There was also an outpour of gratefulness from fans thanking ‘Minho-oppa for saving our Taemin-oppa’.
“So… ‘Minho oppa’, how are you feeling?” Taemin asked tentatively while attempting a smile. It didn’t hold for too long though; tears threatened to spill from the actor’s eyes. Minho frowned.
“Don’t cry.”
“I… you don’t know how worried; how scared I was when she stabbed you. I thought I’d l-lo…you’d died.”
Minho slowly brought his hand over to rest over Taemin’s smaller one. He wanted to raise his hand to swipe the tears off that delicate face but couldn’t find enough strength to do so. Instead, he rubbed circles on Taemin’s hand with the pad of his thumb as the actor sobbed.
“I’m okay now though.”
“You could have died! How could you be so stupid to jump out in front of Sooin-noona?”
Taemin was angry, upset- both at himself and Minho. How could he have let Minho get hurt for his sake?
“Because if I didn’t do so, the one hurt would be you.”
Taemin looked at him, tears still freefalling.
“And I’d rather be the one injured than see you being hurt.”
“Does this mean… you like me?” He said tentatively. Stupid question to ask but he had to be sure how the other felt.
“No.” Minho could have laughed at Taemin’s expression if there wasn’t that disgusting burn in his ribs.
“I think this means I love you. But I’m definitely sure this means I care for you.”
Taemin hit him lightly on the uninjured part of his thigh but the smile on his face was so wide and so brilliant and so wonderfully gorgeous.
“Ow. You’re attacking an injured man.”
The younger leaned in hesitantly and pressed his lips chastely against Minho’s but the older deepened it; his tongue running along Taemin’s moist lips.
The sounds of a throat clearing, noisy footsteps and a high pitched voice were enough to have them pull away from each other reluctantly.
“I’m glad you two are finally getting your happy ending but don’t get all mushy here!”
Taemin heard Minho mutter ‘cock-blocker’ under his breath and hid a giggle. But his hand remained wrapped over Minho’s; fingers interlaced.
to be edited further. what kind of ending is this. God T.T