it comes unannounced 1/2
Title: it comes unannounced
Author: ajin
Pairing: Onew/Taemin
Rating: PG-15
Genre: AU, Romance
Word Count: 7,378
Summary: Taemin thinks too much. Jinki may think too little. Their worlds not-so-coincidently collide.
Author's Note of Doom: It's the first time I'm writing prose. Hence, this is completely an experiment. I couldn't get rid of the typical characteristics my poetry has and consequently there's a ton of metaphors and cut sentences. Don't take everything too literally^^ Moreover, there's a lot of me in this fic so slight OCness may occur. Out-of-blue British English too.
I'm aware that this is far from perfect but since I've finished it, I thought I might as well share. There's always a lack of Ontae fanfics.
The 2nd part is almost done. I just need to force myself to proofread it for the umpteenth time again and put it into html *cries*
For jinkissleen because even though she proved to be useless at inspiring me, she's the only reason this started and got finished and I ♥ her
It’s uneventful. How it happens. He expects tearful breakdowns and piercing pain.
It’s so slow that it almost goes unnoticed. A crack appearing here and there until it becomes a fragile mosaic. Then it starts to shake. It may break off sometimes. A piece here and a piece there. It doesn’t matter. Only after it all collapses, it will. It’s not raining, rather it’s drizzling glass. Continuously.
He looks down at his feet. The pavement is smooth except for a web of lines somewhere near the end. An accident might have happened. The lamp post looks a bit bent too. The sky is dark and cloudy. He remembers that he forgot the umbrella at home. It’s all uphill from here. It may be teenage hormones and identity crises. He can’t be bothered with analyzing himself though. No matter what it is, he can’t fix it. He’s been trying for way too long. Longer than he can remember. He still harbours the bit of hope that it may change someday. Someday he might just be lucky enough to have the cure come to him. Unexpectedly. He almost wants to laugh at it all. If for past 18 years he’s been falling apart and no one’s noticed, how can it be mended. It can’t.
There’s a huge puddle next to the bin on the right. It’s all muddy and grey. He’s wearing white snickers today. The design created would be fantastic. It’s unconscious how he inches towards it. Like a string is pulling him. Slowly. Step by step. It’s only a few centimetres away now and the white colour irks him so. Then, he feels the prickles. It’s like electricity is sparking up and down his spine. An annoying touch on his neck. He stops. The prickling is getting closer. He’s sure that anytime his spine might just explode. He doesn’t want to turn around. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to lose. Only it’s stupid. Another figment of your imagination.
There are messy, brown hair and chocolate eyes. A dumb but unusual expression. A bit of a shock. He can see it coming again. Fortunately, the bus is there and he turns on his heel before he might be engaged in yet another pointless conversation.
Oh, it’s a boy…
The prickling becomes a static humming in the background. It bounces off the walls missing him almost all the time. It’s similar to a steady beat. Up and down. Right and left. A pause. There are the snippets of conversations and the sound of the engine. Nothing too direct. Somehow he’s thankful. No forced conversations. No second-hand embarrassment. It’s not as cloudy as I thought.
He has a flashback out of blue. He’s in the middle of this huge room decorated with glitter and sparkles and rainbows all around. Key’s sister is screaming for them to get out. Mischievous smiles and hushed giggles. He doesn’t even know how and when but he’s in a dress. All the frills and lace. Pink colour. The urge to scream. Key forcing the big ribbons on his hair and then dragging him across the neighbourhood. It’s my new girlfriend! My girlfriend! Isn’t she pretty? He thinks he’s been still intact back then. He let himself become a spectacle. All the mothers cooing. Key smiling his giga-watt smile. It’s been worth it. His brother almost had a heart attack.
There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The humming. Static. He’s surprised. It’s still there even though he’s nearing his university. I haven’t noticed. The tall trees loom on both sides of the entrance. And it’s pounding down with rain in seconds. Everything’s forgotten while he races to the door. The book he’s been absently looking at is all wet on the edges. His hair is nearly touching his shoulder blades. All straight, sticking to his forehead and neck but already curling at the ends. A drop makes its way perfectly into his eye. His sneakers are no longer white. There are mountains of grey and rivers of black, black glop. Fantastic.
That’s unfortunate. The hair colour was so unique. Maybe next time.
The lecture seems never-ending. Back to reality. There are no curious eyes. Not anymore. No one questions anything. All it takes is a bit of small-talk. A smile here and a nod there. He’s perfect at playing these games. Choosing roles, shaping the characters and using just the right one every time. Knowing that on one suspects anything, makes him feel superior. It’s such a twisted pleasure. Of course we’re best friends. Oh, you know. Just they don’t. He stages the plays all the time. There’s not a soul left that’s worth for him to be who he is. Or so he tries to convince himself.
He’s 14. He’s shouting. Emotions seem to fill him, stretching him impossibly wide. They’ve been doing that forever. Only today it’s quicker, more effective, overwhelming. He swears he can feel his skin tearing apart. No more pink dresses or mischievous smiles. There it goes…10 years of sharing himself. It may be ridiculous to be so angry. It’s not even Key’s fault. But he’s 14. Logical arguments stand no chance. And so he blows it out of proportions and away.
There’s a soft thud. His pencil lies on the floor. What is wrong today…Since when has he been not thinking about this? There’s nothing to solve anymore. He broke the pieces himself and refused to put them together. When he did try though, it was years too late. Because people change and sometimes don’t need you. So why should he need them. He doesn’t. What beautiful lies.
It feels so tiring to be like this more often than not. He’s just the type to hold onto past. Tying his emotions around his neck. He pulls at them and pushes them. He chokes on them. Another thing that he’s better at than anybody else. The way-out is pretty simple. It’s straight, actually. However, there’s been kicking involved and cursing and clawing and baring his teeth like a wild animal. The way is so twisted now. Entangled with the lies, the poison. He doesn’t want to change it.
The static’s there. Every day. Sometimes he catches a glimpse of brown hair. Sometimes, he hears a soft voice humming. It gets closer and closer and closer. He doesn’t turn though, stubbornly clinging to his resolve. I won’t lose.
It’s a day like any other. Winter is not being generous. It rains and rains. He wishes for snow for the first time in his life. He hates the cold. The sweaters are itchy. They make him feel like ants are marching up and down his back. The roads are slippery. There’s always a hidden ice trap waiting for him to trip and slide. This year it’s not important. He wants the rain to stop. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. A spare thought, not even a blink of eye and he’s covered in water. The cars keep speeding down the road. It’s all so fucking wet.
He’s not surprised that he’s unlucky. Of course the road is cut off and the bus not coming. Him not having his umbrella again is just a part of the routine. Just like the electricity. The static.
Wait. What?
It’s back making his neck itch. It’s back making him squirm. It’s…
“You’re soaking!”, says a warm voice and it’s so close. He notices concern. Not that it changes anything. He won’t look.
“Uhm…I know that we don’t know each other but we usually take the same bus home. So we’ll be going in the same direction. I…You don’t have an umbrella so wanna share mine?” A nervous laugh follows and there’s the beginning of awkward silence. Somehow he can’t ignore this guy. He’s been trying for weeks and weeks of dark clouds, gloomy days and heavy rain. He turns around.
“I guess?”
Once again he’s confronted with the messy, brown hair and chocolate eyes. They sparkle, he thinks. He never knew eyes could sparkle. Key’s shined. He was sure they’ve shined even in the dark. Bright green like a cat’s.
A smile. A big, sheepish smile. He thinks the guy looks stupid standing in the middle of the street, holding a bright green umbrella with frogs dancing and motioning for him to come closer. It’s ridiculous. It really is.
They end up walking. Walking what seems like kilometres. Like centuries. It’s kilometres indeed. What takes him aback is that he’s not as bored as he thought he would be. The guy talks a lot. His name’s Jinki and he’s 4 years his senior. It’s his final year. He’s an only child. Jinki’s been seeing him on the bus ever since the academic year started. He lives on the street parallel to his house. Their mums actually know each other. He says they go on shopping trips together. Jinki’s the clumsiest person he has ever met. He’s awkward and enthusiastic. Very random. He also, it seems, trips on air.
“What are you doing?”, he utters while laughing. His stomach almost hurts. It’s been so long since he laughed this freely.
“I’ve always been like this. That’s why everyone calls me Dubu.”
All of sudden, he catches himself. There’s no role. He’s been listening. He remembers. And he thinks that he’s playing himself. No. Not playing. He’s being himself. That’s not how it should be. So he shuts off the laughing. Friends? He doesn’t want to be. But he can see his house emerging from behind the alleys and trees. It’s only drizzling. He invents whatever excuse he can and sprints away. Away from warm voices and sincere smiles. Even though he knows that this time it’s all true. Sincere.
It’s been a week of calculated escapes. He finds a different bus. Sometimes he’s 5 minutes late. He checks Jinki’s classes and probably knows his schedule better than anyone else. He finally puts the umbrella into his bag and makes sure that it’s there before going out. He’s successful, of course. It’s all fine and peachy until he realizes he’s wasting time. Wasting time on someone. That’s not being indifferent. It angers him. Infuriates.
Come Monday he takes the usual bus.
It’s on the next day when he’s going home.
“Taemin!”
He looks at the ground. It’s still a bit muddy. The road from the bus stop to his house has not been finished. He can see a patch of grass growing out of the mud right in the centre. He almost wants to focus on analyzing the landscape. He’s looking everywhere. Anywhere but Jinki.
“It’s been ages since I last saw you”, he hears Jinki say. There’s some fondness in his voice. Taemin feels confused. Jinki’s saying something again but he can’t focus. Everything is just so blurred.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
The smile is back again, making him stop. Almost freeze in his tracks. He really doesn’t want to think about it. He’s sure this time. So he lets it go. All the thoughts. All the unnecessary thoughts. He may experiment for once after all.
“Sorry. What did you say?”
Taemin is not sure if he’s doing it right. Making friends? He has always thought it sounded stupid. How can you make friends? It’s not like you take raw materials and shape them and stick parts together. They’re not an object. They’re skin and bones and blood. And thoughts. And the smiles. The smiles change everything around him. Jinki’s smiles.
It took 2 whole days for his mum to find out. She’s been delighted. Jinki is such a good boy. You finally have a proper friend. We need to have him over for lunch on the weekend. Did I tell you what a good student he is? Oh, I need…And so they are here. Stuck in his room together. Both stuffed with food. His mum went all the way out. He’s lying on his bed. Jinki’s opposite, on the sofa.
“Can I ask you something?” Jinki’s full of hesitation. He’s like a glass tower sometimes. So careful. Afraid to make the wrong step. So fragile.
“Go ahead.” Taemin dropped his pretence for today. That’s what he wants to believe. Do I ever really? Do I still know how?
“You’re so different when I see you at uni. You’re popular, no? Do you…” and suddenly Jinki stops. He smiles sheepishly. Taemin is scared. Scared like he’s never been in his life. Afraid of what Jinki may bring. It may just be a storm. A violent one.
“Never mind.”
And so they end up playing scrabble. Jinki doesn’t stay for the night though. A sleepover would still be too awkward.
It’s one of those days. The clouds are black and heavy with the rain that is to come. The sun’s been hidden for ages now. There’s not even a ray of light. He feels tired.
It was the same dream. He’s stuck in a closet. There’s barely any light. The ceiling seems to be non-existent. His shoulders touch the walls but the closet goes on forever. So narrow. More like a tunnel. His breathing is heavy and he can feel sweat forming on his forehead. He won’t panic, he tells himself. He’s blindly groping around. Touching. It’s a mess. Piles of masks. He makes them fall and they crash around him. Some feel foreign but some so familiar. He can’t even tell. What he can’t tell seems to be never-ending. He could write a story on it. Fill papers and papers. And notebooks. And shelves. He knows why he’s doing it but at the same time he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to. Dust keeps forming everywhere. Quicker and quicker. Cobwebs. The ceiling looks about to collapse. Then, it’s as if his face fell off. Before he has a chance to catch it, it’s rolling on the floor, disappearing under one of the piles. Forever. Everything freezes. He doesn’t bat even an eyelash. Does he have any? Still. He shakes like a leaf during a storm. He breaks all over. Smaller pieces and smaller pieces…There’s a shout and he’s back again being himself. Or maybe imitating himself. In one piece though. The masks are no longer there. He’s scared even more now. It’s too complicated. It tugs at his heart strings and he feels like crying. He just can’t make things out by himself. Have I lost touch with myself?
Jinki’s at the bus stop again. It’s a routine now, them going to uni together. Jinki greets him with his warm smile. Takes his breath away. Leaves him hanging. They sit on the right side just 2 rows from the back. The seats are red and old. There’s a handful of strings sticking out on the side. He’s the one next to the window. They don’t speak much. Sometimes they do though. Like today. Today Jinki is telling him about everything. Teamin feels light-headed. It’s too much to take. It’s almost like Jinki is a wave crashing, throwing him to the ground. Food, colours, toys, childhood, books, movies, hopes. He tries to answer. It’s hard keeping up. “You know, a month before you’ve moved in a friend of mine moved out of the house you live in. He was my best friend when I was a child. His name was Jonghyun and…” and he goes on and on. Not that Taemin’s listening. Because he realizes he’s not the only person Jinki talks to everyday. Because Jinki might have a girlfriend. Because he can’t be interesting enough.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Disappear. It’s as if you want to hide away, somewhere deep and dark.” He feels his hands trembling.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do.” Jinki’s looking him in the eyes. He seems to be on the verge of tears. It startles Taemin.
“I try…” and that seems to be enough because next thing he knows, Jinki’s on about that annoying professor. And does Taemin have classes with her too?
Where do you go to?
He has always had lots of time. Time did not have a form for him. It was just there, floating. Now it’s a solid, concrete object. It looms above him. Not in a bad way though. It’s solid because he’s started to divide it. There’s a share for sleeping, university, homework, Jinki. Jinki’s share is proportionally bigger. All the time. He manages to steal some when Taemin’s studying, eating, dancing.
He’s been dancing again too. The dreams are no longer there, ever since. Dancing takes his mind off everything. Throws them into the shadows. There’s music and him moving. He can’t lie to himself. He responds to the emotions. He can try running away but in the end he will still let it show. It calms him down. He might have buried his heart but digging it out is so easy. He thinks that maybe, just maybe he should be afraid. It’s too easy. He dances anyway. Until his muscles are too tired to move. Until he can’t make out the single beats and separate words. Until he has reason to live. Not that anything has changed. He’s stubborn. Even if he’s living an illusion, he’s been living it for so long. But he dances.
Jinki’s not acting like himself all of sudden. This time he’s not very present. He looks at Taemin, nods, smiles. Doesn’t even realize he was asked a question. Taemin can feel it starting. It’s boiling just underneath his skin. He can swear he feels it melting. It’s overpowering. He wants to stop. Setting his lips in a straight line, furrowing his eyebrows, digging his nails in the soft part of his thigh. He’s a string ready to snap. So tense.
“Jinki!” He’s surprised how loud he is, shouting like he’s been keeping the shout deep inside. Jinki cringes but stays silent.
“Jinki, what the fuck are you doing today?!” The forced, embarrassed smiles.
“What do you mean? It’s nothing.”
“The hell it’s nothing. You still hasn’t answered the question I asked you 5 minutes ago!” He’s determined to get it out. Or get himself out. It’s all here again. It makes him sick. How naive of him.
“Uhmmm...Taemin...I.I..well” Jinki’s stuttering. Tripping on words worse than on air. Taemin doesn’t give it a second thought. He’s never been the patient type. He reaches his classroom in less than a few seconds. Almost slamming the doors. Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re just the same.
What...?
So he’s back to avoiding Jinki. More precisely - to ignoring him. They have only known each other for a little over a month, he’s aware. You may not want to share every single detail of your life with someone who’s still technically a stranger. Isn’t he the one who understands that the best? But he stays harsh. Taemin doesn’t know how to apologize. And Jinki tugs at his heart strings. That should make him more responsible, right? Only Jinki is too oblivious to the world around him. Only Taemin puts it all behind a wall. He locks it away. Throws the key away. But he’s determined. Once more.
Jinki’s tripping on everything. He can’t focus. He’s not overly present. He’s pathetic in this state.
There’s a beat playing on his spine again. Changing. So many variations. He finds it comforting. He leans into it. It’s slow. Almost slow motion. His head turns just so. His shoulder bumps into the chair. Twisting. Twisting. Twisted. Jinki’s right there, behind him. Looking at him. And Taemin feels like he’s never seen him before. So set. Like on a mission.
“Taemin, look...”
“It’s all right.”
“I..What?”
“I said, it’s alright. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. It’s fine.” Only it’s forced and anyone could guess it’s everything but fine. He’s up and clutching his bag.
“Wait!”
And Taemin’s running. Running away from responsibilities, from laughter. Running from what he’s been missing. What he yearns for. Even if he has no right to.
He’s sure that he lost Jinki at the first corner. He has definitely bumped into the wall, some poor bystanders, a plant or two. Probably tripped on air. At least ten times. Taemin slumps against the wall and looks around. It’s quiet the way he has never seen a corridor be before. Jinki’s too good a student to skip the class. Certainly not for him. So he stays in the same place, his thoughts running wild. Taemin doesn’t know what he wants from Jinki. He doesn’t know what he’s so angry about. But he is. Oh, how he is. It’s like there has been a permanent black cloud above his head. Making the oxygen scarce, the air around tense. Everything sets off the moment Jinki comes into his sight. Even if he wants to talk, to explain. Taemin just needs to get away.
There are footsteps to be heard somewhere near. They’re going in his direction. Before he has a chance to move, the brown hair is almost in his face. Jinki’s breathless, barely stopping in front of Taemin. And he’s trapped. There’s the wall and there’s Jinki. It’s as if his world has been suddenly narrowed, converted into the space in which their breaths mingle. The electricity is there setting the air on fire. Jinki’s just too close, eyes locked with his. It’s so cliché.
And Jinki smiles.
“Finally! I thought I would never catch up. You’re so fast!”
Taemin has no idea where the tension, the static, the black cloud has gone to. All he knows is that everything is back to normal. Almost like nothing has ever changed. Almost like he hasn’t been acting like a spoiled brat. Feeling so stupidly betrayed.
“Listen, I know that I haven’t been the best of friends lately. I should have probably said something that day. It’s just...” Jinki’s hesitant and close to stumbling on every word.
“It’s just...well...I broke up with my girlfriend. It’s been so sudden too! One day everything is fine, the next day she says she’s found someone else. I...I..I still don’t know what to do, ok? We’ve been together since high school. I-” and Jinki’s breaking down.
It’s not pretty. One second Taemin’s standing, plastered to the wall, next he’s on the floor. Jinki’s clutching at his shirt like Taemin’s his lifeboat. His head tucked somewhere near his collarbones and he swears he can feel his shirt getting wet way too quickly. He’s awkward. Stiff and unhelpful. Jinki’s too close. Too close again. There’s the body heat and the hair is tickling his chin. He forces himself not to laugh. Shifting slightly to the right, he stretches his arms and winds them around Jinki. Presses him into his shirt even more. Also when he feels pins and needles everywhere, spreading like a fire with the aid of wind. Too quick to react. Numb. He might be just whispering some nonsensical comfort words too. One of his hands finds its way into Jinki’s hair, fingers entangled. He can’t recognize himself.
It takes a while for Jinki to stop. So long that Taemin is sure Jinki’s really been in love. He doesn’t need to hear anything anymore. It’s more than clear. Not that he makes more sense himself but he figures he never has. The silence is punctuated with occasional sniffling and hushed ‘I am sorry’s.
“There’s nothing for you to apologise for, Jinki. I was just being an idiot, is all.”
“But friends should tell each other everything. How are you going to trust me if I act like I did?”
The words make him grip at the seams of his jeans unsuccessfully. Because I can’t.
“Shouldn’t we get going? You’ve already missed one class.” He tries to ignore the nagging feeling.
“Oh shit, I have a test today. I’ll see you later, right?”
“Jinki, seriously wipe that snot. You’re going to give your professor a heart attack. And not with your sleeve, for god’s sake!” and Jinki’s laughing and jogging away, leaving Taemin to look at his feet. All concentrated.
He’s somewhere dark. There’s just darkness and sporadic stars. Or what seems to be them, appearing like fireworks above his head. There’s emptiness seeping from every corner of his mind. It makes him wonder if he’s even real. His skin transparent. It’s so dark. The ground is cold, making his legs into blocks of ice. He can hear soft voices. Thumping. Something walking maybe. Crawling. Grazing his legs. Slimy. Next thing he knows, it’s hundreds degrees colder and he’s shaking. Shaking so badly again. It’s like a nightmare. And he can’t see so he shouts.
He wakes up in his bed, covered in sweat, breathing fast. It’s still early. He can’t help but think he’s doing something wrong once more. It’s all back, just much more intense. Getting worse each night. So graphic. As clear as the world around. Waking up more dead than alive. Throat as dry as a piece of paper. His heart constricted. He’s tired in and out.
“You’re off somewhere else again. Don’t do that.”, Jinki’s whining. He makes exaggerated sad faces. Puppy eyes. All Taemin can do is roll his eyes.
“I’m still here. Can’t you see?”
“I don’t think I’m entertaining enough. You ignore me, Taemin. You do.” Jinki’s poking him. Invading his personal space like no one else. Taemin squirms. There might have been a squeak involved too.
“Jinki stop that! What are you? 5?”
“I don’t know what got you so uptight but it’s going on for too long so we’re going to get rid of it. Preferably now.” and he grabs Taemin’s hand and drags him almost forcefully to the nearest cinema.
They end up watching some romantic comedy and he can’t phantom how on earth it even happened. Jinki can be so determined. More than me even. He can also be such a sap. The blond and annoyingly cheerful heroine is currently standing on a balcony while the sea breeze blows her hair in every direction. She’s crying at the loss of her beloved who, not so surprisingly, is actually alive and kicking. Consequently, as in any proper romantic comedy, the hero decides he loves his blond heroine more than life itself and is set on asking her to marry him after the numerous, supposedly audience-entertaining hardships he has encountered. Obviously, there’s the standard epic background music playing, the sun is setting, the wind is blowing, everyone looks dashing. He confesses with splendour, going on his knees. The heroine cries even harder and says yes and there goes their happy ending. Taemin may want to puke. He may consider running far away to save the remaining brain cells of his too.
Then, he looks at Jinki. In a span of seconds he’s full of muffled giggles, almost choking. He can’t believe. Oh my God. Jinki’s griping the seat like it’s the last thing that can save him in this world. He’s tense, so expectant. Tears are brimming at the corners of his eyes. The moment he hears the soft sob he’s gone. Face pressed into the back of his seat. Laughing hysterically. He would have never guessed. He thinks that whatever got him uptight has definitely been forgotten at this point.
“It’s not funny.”
“Oh but it is. You have no idea how you looked like. Poor baby.”
“Taemin...”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell your secret to anyone”, he’s teasing, laughing again. It’s as if once he started, he just can’t stop. He likes it more than he will ever admit. It’s so natural.
Now, that’s all better.
The next time they meet, it’s Jinki who’s all tired, too worn on the edges. For Taemin it’s as if he’s blending with the background. No presence at all.
“Is it contagious?” Jinki looks up surprised.
“What do you mean?”
“Is my bad mood contagious, is what I’m asking.”
It comes out not exactly right. He sounds irritated and he thinks he actually may be. Jinki’s always so considerate, tiptoeing around people, ignoring himself. It pisses him off in a way he never knew existed.
“What? No!”
“Jinki, let’s be frank. You look like shit. All grumpy and far off in whatever la-la world you have found. If that’s not being in bad mood, then I just might be Miss Korea.” He has no energy left to pretend. Once he shed it all, he’s acting completely out of hand.
“But. Well. Oh, whatever. It’s none of your business”, Jinki utters all straight lines and canned feelings.
“It fucking is, you wanker”, he’s nearly shouting and he knows he’s being unfair. He’s moody more often than not. Ignores Jinki. Answers half-assed. Hides things from him. Gets angry over the most insignificant things. Small gestures.
“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten but you said friends should tell each other everything. I don’t see you doing that.”
“It’s not as if you’re so open either. Playing a different person each day. Pretending in front of everyone. I may not be fooled quite so easily. I may see exactly who you are and you may let me. But that doesn’t give you the right to tell me to be honest about everything.” Jinki’s voice is barely there. He goes away and out of Taemin’s sight quicker than he can blink. Taemin, well done.
He thinks they both create too much drama. Key would have been proud. They go from hogging each other’s free time to avoiding each other like the worst plague. It’s not even the first time. So he starts going out pointlessly with his uni “friends” again. Mindless drinking, dancing to shitty music in some dodgy clubs.
(They don’t question any change. It’s safe and comfortable like worn shoes. Just much more fake.)
He’s doing it today too. Whatever-her-name-is has invited him to her birthday party. Considering the occasion and the place, he has no doubt he’ll be wasted come midnight. Not that it stops him. He’s stubborn after all and acting like the stupid teenager he is, has become his main occupation. So he goes. And drinks. And drinks. And then drinks some more. And dances. Different girls grinding. Maybe even guys. He’s at least 3 tequilas past the point of caring. Lips coated in the salt. The colourful ceiling is spinning so nice. He feels like he’s boneless, effortlessly moving to the beat. Time speeds up and then unexpectedly slows down. He looks to the right.
Taemin’s not the type who believes in fate, destiny, coincidences. But there’s Jinki, looking equally smashed. Though not very alone. The girl looks really familiar and he doesn’t mean in the way she moves or the length of her hair. Birthday girl? Somehow it all clicks. It’s been so obvious from the very beginning. He just didn’t want to connect the dots or maybe pretended he didn’t know the right answer. There’s been days he saw her and Jinki. Jinki’s been glowing. A lot. There’s been days when she was never around. Jinki’s been restless. Also a lot. And just recently. Just recently he saw them both again. He wants to run up to them, shake Jinki up. Now that’s really bad taste. Get your ugly, whore face away. However, he’s stunned. Hit by too many revelations. Completely sober. His skin so itchy. Sweat trailing his veins and leaving barely-there tracks. Thus, he leaves before his lungs may give up.
It’s dark again. Familiar darkness. Somehow he’s not so taken aback. The stars like fireworks. Ice. Ice. Ice. Something walking. Crawling. Grazing his legs. He’s cold and shivering. He doesn’t like. Shapes. He can see them. Snake-like, continuous beings. Big, black eyes. Sharp teeth. Gathering around. The ceiling collapsing. Slowly. Then quickly. Now. Black tar running over him and beyond. He’s sticking to the ground. Everything is coming towards him light-speed. He’s losing his thoughts. Empty shell full of cries. So he shouts.
He’s in the centre of some town. It seems rather small. There’s a fountain right in the middle of a paved park. He inches towards it. A bit cautious but gaining hope. There are teddy bears where the water’s supposed to be. Different types, various sizes. No one around. He can feel his shoulders relaxing. It’s sunny. Seems like it’s the middle of the day. White clouds on the perfectly blue sky. Bright green trees looming on the sides. And there are bugs everywhere. Weird shapes. Big. Going round and round. Round and round the fountain. Which probably is not a fountain. He wants to reach the teddy bears. It’s disgusting. Elaborate trap. The moment he kills one, it becomes two. They multiply. Forever and ever and ever and...He’s pretty sure he’s losing his mind. And he chops them all. Chops them in half. Sometimes near the head. Then, near the abdomen. Misses. Trips. Nearly falls. Swarming.
Wakes up.
He’s lying on the grass in some unidentified park he went to on impulse. No blanket but it’s warm enough. There’s Jinki invading his thoughts. Constantly. Day and night. It’s selfish to be so obstinate. Hasn’t he had girlfriends too? He never wanted to share the unnecessary drama. Somehow he can’t accept her. Such a stain on the perfect white shirt that is Jinki. She’s disturbing, almost like a snake. Twisting herself around him. Choking to death. Shouldn’t he have introduced her to me at least? He sighs. Possessive feelings are swirling about. Quite a novelty indeed. I’m lonely.
He walks back. Cold wind hitting him in the face. Beating sense into him maybe. He has already surrendered. His pride and beliefs. Jinki’s destroying his fortifications like it’s mere sand. But it’s impossible to be an immature retard forever. Obvious. He’s passing Jinki’s house which, considering they live in a suburban area, is fairly similar to his. Even their rooms are in the exact same place. He stops looking at it and concentrates on the ground. The grey pavement. The perfectly trimmed grass.
It’s hard and painful, how he collides. Almost falling back and down. A hand grabs him just in time. It comes as no surprise. Fortune hasn’t been liking him too much lately. The expression on Jinki’s face is unreadable. A mix. Ever changing. Emotions entangled like fast-forward, rewind.
“I saw you’re back with your girlfriend. Whoever she found must have really sucked”, he says breathless and just tiny bit scared. Irony imprinted. Deep and clear.
“I saw you in the club.”
“Well, she invited me. It’s not like I go around stalking you-”
“Taemin. Can’t we just talk? But really talk without biting each other?”
He sighs again. Always because of Jinki.
“Can we? She dumps your ass and goes on a rendezvous. Then, she decides it’s ok to come back and messes with your head. You’re devastated and self-pitying yourself. While she probably fucks every willing guy.” He expects it. Jinki’s strength is no laughing matter. It stings rather badly.
“How dare you!”
“Because I know her. And you know all of this too. Can’t you just be better to yourself?! I get that you love her. I get that! But loving someone who plays you, has you wrapped around her finger. She doesn’t even care! She probably two-times you. All. The. Time. You’re aware of that, aren’t you? That’s why you cried?” His voice is getting quieter. He can’t stop talking. It’s getting out of him in form of a wave. Powerful. So careless.
“I know. I know!”
“Do you still love her? Even after how much she has hurt you?”
“I’m not with her anymore.”
“I’m not asking if you are. It’s not connected.”
“I probably don’t.”
He’s kind of stunned.
“But weren’t you...”
“I thought I were but more than being in love, I was just hanging onto something that was an illusion. 4 years are a lot of time. No one is content with letting go without a fight but I have no energy to fight forever. Look, I’m not good at talking about my feelings. So can we like stop?”
“Ok.” he’s back to admiring the ground.
“Look-”
“I’m sorry. I have no idea how you manage to put up with me all the time.”
Because you’re the guy who thinks too much. I take it as it is. Maybe I think too little. Together we are a perfect match.
They’re doing pretty well, he thinks. Jinki’s a bit more cheerful every day. He’s maybe a bit more open himself. No one shouts. It’s not all perfect though. It’s far from being perfect, to be honest. There’s this cloud. Hanging above them. Heavy with things unspoken and messing with their minds.
He has no idea when he started to care or when Jinki’s mood began to affect him. Probably somewhere around him saying “Hi” and bursting his bubble like personal space has never existed. So he cares. Too much for his liking. He decided when he was 14. All stupid and tormented by emotions; saying nonsense and being full of bile. He won’t get close to people, he will only pretend. Play roles. Invent characters. Only sometimes dance. Now it’s all over so he needs to learn how to get rid of the garbage he has left behind. Jinki’s not trying to make it easier. Not that Taemin thinks he would deserve that. And Jinki’s a wreck. Loving and not loving. Aware of everything but trying to deny. Hating so much. Then crying. Alone. Taemin’s there as a part of decoration. Blending with the walls. Saying something once in a while. Mostly unnoticed. He has to admit, he expected more. Jinki’s so nice, right? Still, it may be just for good. For once he’s the one being ignored. Tasting his own poison. Well, isn’t it just delicious?
“You don’t have to be here, you know.”
“I want to.”
“Is your conscience biting you?” There’s a bitter laugh.
“I’ve never lied to you.”
“Yes but you never felt the need to tell me much either.”
“Jinki-”
“Look, it’s not that I don’t understand. I do. But I don’t want to. She left me just like that. No surprise at all as if she expected the break-up. I thought she was actually proud of herself. So I’m the dumb one left and everyone knew from the start. Isn’t it amazing how others can use you? I’m always there for everyone, listening to their whining, being understanding, oh so considerate. Now I have enough. So I won’t start being understanding. I just won’t. You should spare yourself all this drama too.”
“No, I shouldn’t and you should just finally cry. Get it out of yourself. The world is never going to be a fair place.”
“Says who? As far as I can remember, you turned your back on this world precisely because it wasn’t fair.”
He can’t help but feel hurt. It must show on his face. Jinki’s suddenly all tense. So embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. I’m being such an ass.”
“Considering how many times I’ve been one, you’re just working your share.”
Jinki’s next to him. Pressed from head to toe. He can feel the warmth, tingling his side.
“Am I not supposed to be your voice of reason of sorts?”, he laughs.
“You’re already the only sane person I know. Enough to make me want to trust you”, Taemin whispers.
“If going through break ups looks always the same, I may just spare myself the problems next time”, he shifts a bit. “Can I get a hug?”
“What?!”, Taemin’s spluttering. Completely flabbergastered.
“A hug.”
Before he can react, Jinki’s tucking himself into the space between his neck, arms holding onto his waist with barely-there desperation. Fingers digging into his bones. He’s like a big kid forced to grow up too quickly. Tough on the outside, doing everything right, so dependant, all warm smiles. Taemin could have never guessed how easy to break on the inside. All cracks and shaking. Like me.
It’s awkward again. He can’t think of what to do. There are too many emotions. All at once. Something is tugging at his heart. It’s strong. A bit like the prickles. His stomach is doing flip-flops? It’s a bit like there’s no gravity inside. Empty space floating around. No butterflies. No. More like eagles and a hoard of them at the same time. It’s making him dizzy and he hates the feeling. Such helplessness. So he hugs Jinki. Presses himself into Jinki more like he’s the one trying to hide.
It’s not sudden. He knew all along. Jinki’s worth growing up.
Where do we go from here?
They’re stuck in the library again. It’s the last month before the final exams. Jinki’s a pro at it, having gone through this already three times. Wake up at 7.30. Eat breakfast. Get ready and take the bus. 2nd floor, the tables on the right hand side. Tea break. Books and notes and books and notes. Lunch. 2nd floor, the same table, the same chair. Notes, notes, notes. Heavy eyelids. Bus back home. 12.30. Sleep and repeat.
He says he’s been forced to tag along. However, it’s easier to concentrate. Take his mind off living a life and put it on re-living past exams. And Jinki knows almost everything. His own private encyclopaedia. He can’t complain. It makes it a piece of cake. Forgetting about a void which has been visiting his stomach so frequently. Fluttering intestines. He thinks that for once he will stop analyzing the situation. He wants to keep himself intact. Losing sanity at such a time is not too advisable.
He’s being distracted today. The table opposite of theirs. Vacant for past week is now full and of some annoyingly plastic girls. He is certain that he would be able to tell if they’re staring from a mile away. Hushed giggles. Talking and talking and talking and...
“Stop that.”
His hands are gripping the table hard.
“Stop what?”
“I really need to keep in mind that pissing you off is not a very good idea. I don’t give you enough credit.”
He can’t help but stare at Jinki with pure wonder.
“You don’t notice yourself?”, he laughs. “Taemin, you’ve been looking at the girls sitting opposite of us with an expression full of killing intent and deep disgust.”
Jinki seems more amused than Taemin can remember. Shaking his head as if he can’t believe a second of what has happened.
“What got you so uptight?”
“...”
“What have they done? Apart from obviously appreciating your good looks, I mean.”
The second Jinki’s done, he’s dumb-founded. It’s all getting a bit too confusing.
“What do you mean? Appreciating my good looks?”
“Uhmm, I’m quite sure that half of our uni would like to tap you. Excuse me for being crude.” Jinki’s still very amused and Taemin’s just not comprehending.
“Are you trying to say that instead of looking at you, they were actually staring at me because I’m good looking?”
“Taemin. Have you never looked in the mirror?”
It’s not that he has never been complimented like this before. He’s been told he’s pretty. Had a few girls swooning now and then. Never thinking too much of it. Because, isn’t he awkward? Lips too big, rather for a girl. Skinny. Like flesh and bones and hidden muscles. So feminine.
“Don’t you mean I’m pretty, almost like a girl?”
“If it was just that, don’t you think girls wouldn’t be interested?”
“Does that mean you’re interested?” and Jinki’s spluttering. Red faced.
“Don’t worry. I’m just teasing you.”
That said, he can’t help but feel more accomplished than on any other day. Because Jinki admitted he’s pretty. And that’s a completely normal reaction, considering they’re friends.
When they’re on the bus, going back, his head heavy and overflowing with more knowledge than he has ever crammed into it before, it’s back. The fluttering. He’s using Jinki as a pillow. Making himself comfortable on the collarbones. Trying to levitate himself into the space between Jinki’s neck and shoulders. He’s feeling almost a physical urge to fold himself and curl around Jinki’s spine. Imprint himself into every cell and read his mind. He’s too tired to fight it. That means Jinki’s my best friend...? His pulse just a tad too fast and his fingers yearning. It’s a first. Jinki is made of shy smiles.
| Część 2
Constructive criticism is always welcome. Now excuse me while I go and die from embarrassment =_=
The fic I promised jinkissleen so proceed with caution my dear flist Ä
Author: ajin
Pairing: Onew/Taemin
Rating: PG-15
Genre: AU, Romance
Word Count: 7,378
Summary: Taemin thinks too much. Jinki may think too little. Their worlds not-so-coincidently collide.
Author's Note of Doom: It's the first time I'm writing prose. Hence, this is completely an experiment. I couldn't get rid of the typical characteristics my poetry has and consequently there's a ton of metaphors and cut sentences. Don't take everything too literally^^ Moreover, there's a lot of me in this fic so slight OCness may occur. Out-of-blue British English too.
I'm aware that this is far from perfect but since I've finished it, I thought I might as well share. There's always a lack of Ontae fanfics.
The 2nd part is almost done. I just need to force myself to proofread it for the umpteenth time again and put it into html *cries*
For jinkissleen because even though she proved to be useless at inspiring me, she's the only reason this started and got finished and I ♥ her
It’s uneventful. How it happens. He expects tearful breakdowns and piercing pain.
It’s so slow that it almost goes unnoticed. A crack appearing here and there until it becomes a fragile mosaic. Then it starts to shake. It may break off sometimes. A piece here and a piece there. It doesn’t matter. Only after it all collapses, it will. It’s not raining, rather it’s drizzling glass. Continuously.
He looks down at his feet. The pavement is smooth except for a web of lines somewhere near the end. An accident might have happened. The lamp post looks a bit bent too. The sky is dark and cloudy. He remembers that he forgot the umbrella at home. It’s all uphill from here. It may be teenage hormones and identity crises. He can’t be bothered with analyzing himself though. No matter what it is, he can’t fix it. He’s been trying for way too long. Longer than he can remember. He still harbours the bit of hope that it may change someday. Someday he might just be lucky enough to have the cure come to him. Unexpectedly. He almost wants to laugh at it all. If for past 18 years he’s been falling apart and no one’s noticed, how can it be mended. It can’t.
There’s a huge puddle next to the bin on the right. It’s all muddy and grey. He’s wearing white snickers today. The design created would be fantastic. It’s unconscious how he inches towards it. Like a string is pulling him. Slowly. Step by step. It’s only a few centimetres away now and the white colour irks him so. Then, he feels the prickles. It’s like electricity is sparking up and down his spine. An annoying touch on his neck. He stops. The prickling is getting closer. He’s sure that anytime his spine might just explode. He doesn’t want to turn around. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to lose. Only it’s stupid. Another figment of your imagination.
There are messy, brown hair and chocolate eyes. A dumb but unusual expression. A bit of a shock. He can see it coming again. Fortunately, the bus is there and he turns on his heel before he might be engaged in yet another pointless conversation.
Oh, it’s a boy…
The prickling becomes a static humming in the background. It bounces off the walls missing him almost all the time. It’s similar to a steady beat. Up and down. Right and left. A pause. There are the snippets of conversations and the sound of the engine. Nothing too direct. Somehow he’s thankful. No forced conversations. No second-hand embarrassment. It’s not as cloudy as I thought.
He has a flashback out of blue. He’s in the middle of this huge room decorated with glitter and sparkles and rainbows all around. Key’s sister is screaming for them to get out. Mischievous smiles and hushed giggles. He doesn’t even know how and when but he’s in a dress. All the frills and lace. Pink colour. The urge to scream. Key forcing the big ribbons on his hair and then dragging him across the neighbourhood. It’s my new girlfriend! My girlfriend! Isn’t she pretty? He thinks he’s been still intact back then. He let himself become a spectacle. All the mothers cooing. Key smiling his giga-watt smile. It’s been worth it. His brother almost had a heart attack.
There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The humming. Static. He’s surprised. It’s still there even though he’s nearing his university. I haven’t noticed. The tall trees loom on both sides of the entrance. And it’s pounding down with rain in seconds. Everything’s forgotten while he races to the door. The book he’s been absently looking at is all wet on the edges. His hair is nearly touching his shoulder blades. All straight, sticking to his forehead and neck but already curling at the ends. A drop makes its way perfectly into his eye. His sneakers are no longer white. There are mountains of grey and rivers of black, black glop. Fantastic.
That’s unfortunate. The hair colour was so unique. Maybe next time.
The lecture seems never-ending. Back to reality. There are no curious eyes. Not anymore. No one questions anything. All it takes is a bit of small-talk. A smile here and a nod there. He’s perfect at playing these games. Choosing roles, shaping the characters and using just the right one every time. Knowing that on one suspects anything, makes him feel superior. It’s such a twisted pleasure. Of course we’re best friends. Oh, you know. Just they don’t. He stages the plays all the time. There’s not a soul left that’s worth for him to be who he is. Or so he tries to convince himself.
He’s 14. He’s shouting. Emotions seem to fill him, stretching him impossibly wide. They’ve been doing that forever. Only today it’s quicker, more effective, overwhelming. He swears he can feel his skin tearing apart. No more pink dresses or mischievous smiles. There it goes…10 years of sharing himself. It may be ridiculous to be so angry. It’s not even Key’s fault. But he’s 14. Logical arguments stand no chance. And so he blows it out of proportions and away.
There’s a soft thud. His pencil lies on the floor. What is wrong today…Since when has he been not thinking about this? There’s nothing to solve anymore. He broke the pieces himself and refused to put them together. When he did try though, it was years too late. Because people change and sometimes don’t need you. So why should he need them. He doesn’t. What beautiful lies.
It feels so tiring to be like this more often than not. He’s just the type to hold onto past. Tying his emotions around his neck. He pulls at them and pushes them. He chokes on them. Another thing that he’s better at than anybody else. The way-out is pretty simple. It’s straight, actually. However, there’s been kicking involved and cursing and clawing and baring his teeth like a wild animal. The way is so twisted now. Entangled with the lies, the poison. He doesn’t want to change it.
The static’s there. Every day. Sometimes he catches a glimpse of brown hair. Sometimes, he hears a soft voice humming. It gets closer and closer and closer. He doesn’t turn though, stubbornly clinging to his resolve. I won’t lose.
It’s a day like any other. Winter is not being generous. It rains and rains. He wishes for snow for the first time in his life. He hates the cold. The sweaters are itchy. They make him feel like ants are marching up and down his back. The roads are slippery. There’s always a hidden ice trap waiting for him to trip and slide. This year it’s not important. He wants the rain to stop. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. A spare thought, not even a blink of eye and he’s covered in water. The cars keep speeding down the road. It’s all so fucking wet.
He’s not surprised that he’s unlucky. Of course the road is cut off and the bus not coming. Him not having his umbrella again is just a part of the routine. Just like the electricity. The static.
Wait. What?
It’s back making his neck itch. It’s back making him squirm. It’s…
“You’re soaking!”, says a warm voice and it’s so close. He notices concern. Not that it changes anything. He won’t look.
“Uhm…I know that we don’t know each other but we usually take the same bus home. So we’ll be going in the same direction. I…You don’t have an umbrella so wanna share mine?” A nervous laugh follows and there’s the beginning of awkward silence. Somehow he can’t ignore this guy. He’s been trying for weeks and weeks of dark clouds, gloomy days and heavy rain. He turns around.
“I guess?”
Once again he’s confronted with the messy, brown hair and chocolate eyes. They sparkle, he thinks. He never knew eyes could sparkle. Key’s shined. He was sure they’ve shined even in the dark. Bright green like a cat’s.
A smile. A big, sheepish smile. He thinks the guy looks stupid standing in the middle of the street, holding a bright green umbrella with frogs dancing and motioning for him to come closer. It’s ridiculous. It really is.
They end up walking. Walking what seems like kilometres. Like centuries. It’s kilometres indeed. What takes him aback is that he’s not as bored as he thought he would be. The guy talks a lot. His name’s Jinki and he’s 4 years his senior. It’s his final year. He’s an only child. Jinki’s been seeing him on the bus ever since the academic year started. He lives on the street parallel to his house. Their mums actually know each other. He says they go on shopping trips together. Jinki’s the clumsiest person he has ever met. He’s awkward and enthusiastic. Very random. He also, it seems, trips on air.
“What are you doing?”, he utters while laughing. His stomach almost hurts. It’s been so long since he laughed this freely.
“I’ve always been like this. That’s why everyone calls me Dubu.”
All of sudden, he catches himself. There’s no role. He’s been listening. He remembers. And he thinks that he’s playing himself. No. Not playing. He’s being himself. That’s not how it should be. So he shuts off the laughing. Friends? He doesn’t want to be. But he can see his house emerging from behind the alleys and trees. It’s only drizzling. He invents whatever excuse he can and sprints away. Away from warm voices and sincere smiles. Even though he knows that this time it’s all true. Sincere.
It’s been a week of calculated escapes. He finds a different bus. Sometimes he’s 5 minutes late. He checks Jinki’s classes and probably knows his schedule better than anyone else. He finally puts the umbrella into his bag and makes sure that it’s there before going out. He’s successful, of course. It’s all fine and peachy until he realizes he’s wasting time. Wasting time on someone. That’s not being indifferent. It angers him. Infuriates.
Come Monday he takes the usual bus.
It’s on the next day when he’s going home.
“Taemin!”
He looks at the ground. It’s still a bit muddy. The road from the bus stop to his house has not been finished. He can see a patch of grass growing out of the mud right in the centre. He almost wants to focus on analyzing the landscape. He’s looking everywhere. Anywhere but Jinki.
“It’s been ages since I last saw you”, he hears Jinki say. There’s some fondness in his voice. Taemin feels confused. Jinki’s saying something again but he can’t focus. Everything is just so blurred.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
The smile is back again, making him stop. Almost freeze in his tracks. He really doesn’t want to think about it. He’s sure this time. So he lets it go. All the thoughts. All the unnecessary thoughts. He may experiment for once after all.
“Sorry. What did you say?”
Taemin is not sure if he’s doing it right. Making friends? He has always thought it sounded stupid. How can you make friends? It’s not like you take raw materials and shape them and stick parts together. They’re not an object. They’re skin and bones and blood. And thoughts. And the smiles. The smiles change everything around him. Jinki’s smiles.
It took 2 whole days for his mum to find out. She’s been delighted. Jinki is such a good boy. You finally have a proper friend. We need to have him over for lunch on the weekend. Did I tell you what a good student he is? Oh, I need…And so they are here. Stuck in his room together. Both stuffed with food. His mum went all the way out. He’s lying on his bed. Jinki’s opposite, on the sofa.
“Can I ask you something?” Jinki’s full of hesitation. He’s like a glass tower sometimes. So careful. Afraid to make the wrong step. So fragile.
“Go ahead.” Taemin dropped his pretence for today. That’s what he wants to believe. Do I ever really? Do I still know how?
“You’re so different when I see you at uni. You’re popular, no? Do you…” and suddenly Jinki stops. He smiles sheepishly. Taemin is scared. Scared like he’s never been in his life. Afraid of what Jinki may bring. It may just be a storm. A violent one.
“Never mind.”
And so they end up playing scrabble. Jinki doesn’t stay for the night though. A sleepover would still be too awkward.
It’s one of those days. The clouds are black and heavy with the rain that is to come. The sun’s been hidden for ages now. There’s not even a ray of light. He feels tired.
It was the same dream. He’s stuck in a closet. There’s barely any light. The ceiling seems to be non-existent. His shoulders touch the walls but the closet goes on forever. So narrow. More like a tunnel. His breathing is heavy and he can feel sweat forming on his forehead. He won’t panic, he tells himself. He’s blindly groping around. Touching. It’s a mess. Piles of masks. He makes them fall and they crash around him. Some feel foreign but some so familiar. He can’t even tell. What he can’t tell seems to be never-ending. He could write a story on it. Fill papers and papers. And notebooks. And shelves. He knows why he’s doing it but at the same time he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to. Dust keeps forming everywhere. Quicker and quicker. Cobwebs. The ceiling looks about to collapse. Then, it’s as if his face fell off. Before he has a chance to catch it, it’s rolling on the floor, disappearing under one of the piles. Forever. Everything freezes. He doesn’t bat even an eyelash. Does he have any? Still. He shakes like a leaf during a storm. He breaks all over. Smaller pieces and smaller pieces…There’s a shout and he’s back again being himself. Or maybe imitating himself. In one piece though. The masks are no longer there. He’s scared even more now. It’s too complicated. It tugs at his heart strings and he feels like crying. He just can’t make things out by himself. Have I lost touch with myself?
Jinki’s at the bus stop again. It’s a routine now, them going to uni together. Jinki greets him with his warm smile. Takes his breath away. Leaves him hanging. They sit on the right side just 2 rows from the back. The seats are red and old. There’s a handful of strings sticking out on the side. He’s the one next to the window. They don’t speak much. Sometimes they do though. Like today. Today Jinki is telling him about everything. Teamin feels light-headed. It’s too much to take. It’s almost like Jinki is a wave crashing, throwing him to the ground. Food, colours, toys, childhood, books, movies, hopes. He tries to answer. It’s hard keeping up. “You know, a month before you’ve moved in a friend of mine moved out of the house you live in. He was my best friend when I was a child. His name was Jonghyun and…” and he goes on and on. Not that Taemin’s listening. Because he realizes he’s not the only person Jinki talks to everyday. Because Jinki might have a girlfriend. Because he can’t be interesting enough.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Disappear. It’s as if you want to hide away, somewhere deep and dark.” He feels his hands trembling.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do.” Jinki’s looking him in the eyes. He seems to be on the verge of tears. It startles Taemin.
“I try…” and that seems to be enough because next thing he knows, Jinki’s on about that annoying professor. And does Taemin have classes with her too?
Where do you go to?
He has always had lots of time. Time did not have a form for him. It was just there, floating. Now it’s a solid, concrete object. It looms above him. Not in a bad way though. It’s solid because he’s started to divide it. There’s a share for sleeping, university, homework, Jinki. Jinki’s share is proportionally bigger. All the time. He manages to steal some when Taemin’s studying, eating, dancing.
He’s been dancing again too. The dreams are no longer there, ever since. Dancing takes his mind off everything. Throws them into the shadows. There’s music and him moving. He can’t lie to himself. He responds to the emotions. He can try running away but in the end he will still let it show. It calms him down. He might have buried his heart but digging it out is so easy. He thinks that maybe, just maybe he should be afraid. It’s too easy. He dances anyway. Until his muscles are too tired to move. Until he can’t make out the single beats and separate words. Until he has reason to live. Not that anything has changed. He’s stubborn. Even if he’s living an illusion, he’s been living it for so long. But he dances.
Jinki’s not acting like himself all of sudden. This time he’s not very present. He looks at Taemin, nods, smiles. Doesn’t even realize he was asked a question. Taemin can feel it starting. It’s boiling just underneath his skin. He can swear he feels it melting. It’s overpowering. He wants to stop. Setting his lips in a straight line, furrowing his eyebrows, digging his nails in the soft part of his thigh. He’s a string ready to snap. So tense.
“Jinki!” He’s surprised how loud he is, shouting like he’s been keeping the shout deep inside. Jinki cringes but stays silent.
“Jinki, what the fuck are you doing today?!” The forced, embarrassed smiles.
“What do you mean? It’s nothing.”
“The hell it’s nothing. You still hasn’t answered the question I asked you 5 minutes ago!” He’s determined to get it out. Or get himself out. It’s all here again. It makes him sick. How naive of him.
“Uhmmm...Taemin...I.I..well” Jinki’s stuttering. Tripping on words worse than on air. Taemin doesn’t give it a second thought. He’s never been the patient type. He reaches his classroom in less than a few seconds. Almost slamming the doors. Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re just the same.
What...?
So he’s back to avoiding Jinki. More precisely - to ignoring him. They have only known each other for a little over a month, he’s aware. You may not want to share every single detail of your life with someone who’s still technically a stranger. Isn’t he the one who understands that the best? But he stays harsh. Taemin doesn’t know how to apologize. And Jinki tugs at his heart strings. That should make him more responsible, right? Only Jinki is too oblivious to the world around him. Only Taemin puts it all behind a wall. He locks it away. Throws the key away. But he’s determined. Once more.
Jinki’s tripping on everything. He can’t focus. He’s not overly present. He’s pathetic in this state.
There’s a beat playing on his spine again. Changing. So many variations. He finds it comforting. He leans into it. It’s slow. Almost slow motion. His head turns just so. His shoulder bumps into the chair. Twisting. Twisting. Twisted. Jinki’s right there, behind him. Looking at him. And Taemin feels like he’s never seen him before. So set. Like on a mission.
“Taemin, look...”
“It’s all right.”
“I..What?”
“I said, it’s alright. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. It’s fine.” Only it’s forced and anyone could guess it’s everything but fine. He’s up and clutching his bag.
“Wait!”
And Taemin’s running. Running away from responsibilities, from laughter. Running from what he’s been missing. What he yearns for. Even if he has no right to.
He’s sure that he lost Jinki at the first corner. He has definitely bumped into the wall, some poor bystanders, a plant or two. Probably tripped on air. At least ten times. Taemin slumps against the wall and looks around. It’s quiet the way he has never seen a corridor be before. Jinki’s too good a student to skip the class. Certainly not for him. So he stays in the same place, his thoughts running wild. Taemin doesn’t know what he wants from Jinki. He doesn’t know what he’s so angry about. But he is. Oh, how he is. It’s like there has been a permanent black cloud above his head. Making the oxygen scarce, the air around tense. Everything sets off the moment Jinki comes into his sight. Even if he wants to talk, to explain. Taemin just needs to get away.
There are footsteps to be heard somewhere near. They’re going in his direction. Before he has a chance to move, the brown hair is almost in his face. Jinki’s breathless, barely stopping in front of Taemin. And he’s trapped. There’s the wall and there’s Jinki. It’s as if his world has been suddenly narrowed, converted into the space in which their breaths mingle. The electricity is there setting the air on fire. Jinki’s just too close, eyes locked with his. It’s so cliché.
And Jinki smiles.
“Finally! I thought I would never catch up. You’re so fast!”
Taemin has no idea where the tension, the static, the black cloud has gone to. All he knows is that everything is back to normal. Almost like nothing has ever changed. Almost like he hasn’t been acting like a spoiled brat. Feeling so stupidly betrayed.
“Listen, I know that I haven’t been the best of friends lately. I should have probably said something that day. It’s just...” Jinki’s hesitant and close to stumbling on every word.
“It’s just...well...I broke up with my girlfriend. It’s been so sudden too! One day everything is fine, the next day she says she’s found someone else. I...I..I still don’t know what to do, ok? We’ve been together since high school. I-” and Jinki’s breaking down.
It’s not pretty. One second Taemin’s standing, plastered to the wall, next he’s on the floor. Jinki’s clutching at his shirt like Taemin’s his lifeboat. His head tucked somewhere near his collarbones and he swears he can feel his shirt getting wet way too quickly. He’s awkward. Stiff and unhelpful. Jinki’s too close. Too close again. There’s the body heat and the hair is tickling his chin. He forces himself not to laugh. Shifting slightly to the right, he stretches his arms and winds them around Jinki. Presses him into his shirt even more. Also when he feels pins and needles everywhere, spreading like a fire with the aid of wind. Too quick to react. Numb. He might be just whispering some nonsensical comfort words too. One of his hands finds its way into Jinki’s hair, fingers entangled. He can’t recognize himself.
It takes a while for Jinki to stop. So long that Taemin is sure Jinki’s really been in love. He doesn’t need to hear anything anymore. It’s more than clear. Not that he makes more sense himself but he figures he never has. The silence is punctuated with occasional sniffling and hushed ‘I am sorry’s.
“There’s nothing for you to apologise for, Jinki. I was just being an idiot, is all.”
“But friends should tell each other everything. How are you going to trust me if I act like I did?”
The words make him grip at the seams of his jeans unsuccessfully. Because I can’t.
“Shouldn’t we get going? You’ve already missed one class.” He tries to ignore the nagging feeling.
“Oh shit, I have a test today. I’ll see you later, right?”
“Jinki, seriously wipe that snot. You’re going to give your professor a heart attack. And not with your sleeve, for god’s sake!” and Jinki’s laughing and jogging away, leaving Taemin to look at his feet. All concentrated.
He’s somewhere dark. There’s just darkness and sporadic stars. Or what seems to be them, appearing like fireworks above his head. There’s emptiness seeping from every corner of his mind. It makes him wonder if he’s even real. His skin transparent. It’s so dark. The ground is cold, making his legs into blocks of ice. He can hear soft voices. Thumping. Something walking maybe. Crawling. Grazing his legs. Slimy. Next thing he knows, it’s hundreds degrees colder and he’s shaking. Shaking so badly again. It’s like a nightmare. And he can’t see so he shouts.
He wakes up in his bed, covered in sweat, breathing fast. It’s still early. He can’t help but think he’s doing something wrong once more. It’s all back, just much more intense. Getting worse each night. So graphic. As clear as the world around. Waking up more dead than alive. Throat as dry as a piece of paper. His heart constricted. He’s tired in and out.
“You’re off somewhere else again. Don’t do that.”, Jinki’s whining. He makes exaggerated sad faces. Puppy eyes. All Taemin can do is roll his eyes.
“I’m still here. Can’t you see?”
“I don’t think I’m entertaining enough. You ignore me, Taemin. You do.” Jinki’s poking him. Invading his personal space like no one else. Taemin squirms. There might have been a squeak involved too.
“Jinki stop that! What are you? 5?”
“I don’t know what got you so uptight but it’s going on for too long so we’re going to get rid of it. Preferably now.” and he grabs Taemin’s hand and drags him almost forcefully to the nearest cinema.
They end up watching some romantic comedy and he can’t phantom how on earth it even happened. Jinki can be so determined. More than me even. He can also be such a sap. The blond and annoyingly cheerful heroine is currently standing on a balcony while the sea breeze blows her hair in every direction. She’s crying at the loss of her beloved who, not so surprisingly, is actually alive and kicking. Consequently, as in any proper romantic comedy, the hero decides he loves his blond heroine more than life itself and is set on asking her to marry him after the numerous, supposedly audience-entertaining hardships he has encountered. Obviously, there’s the standard epic background music playing, the sun is setting, the wind is blowing, everyone looks dashing. He confesses with splendour, going on his knees. The heroine cries even harder and says yes and there goes their happy ending. Taemin may want to puke. He may consider running far away to save the remaining brain cells of his too.
Then, he looks at Jinki. In a span of seconds he’s full of muffled giggles, almost choking. He can’t believe. Oh my God. Jinki’s griping the seat like it’s the last thing that can save him in this world. He’s tense, so expectant. Tears are brimming at the corners of his eyes. The moment he hears the soft sob he’s gone. Face pressed into the back of his seat. Laughing hysterically. He would have never guessed. He thinks that whatever got him uptight has definitely been forgotten at this point.
“It’s not funny.”
“Oh but it is. You have no idea how you looked like. Poor baby.”
“Taemin...”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell your secret to anyone”, he’s teasing, laughing again. It’s as if once he started, he just can’t stop. He likes it more than he will ever admit. It’s so natural.
Now, that’s all better.
The next time they meet, it’s Jinki who’s all tired, too worn on the edges. For Taemin it’s as if he’s blending with the background. No presence at all.
“Is it contagious?” Jinki looks up surprised.
“What do you mean?”
“Is my bad mood contagious, is what I’m asking.”
It comes out not exactly right. He sounds irritated and he thinks he actually may be. Jinki’s always so considerate, tiptoeing around people, ignoring himself. It pisses him off in a way he never knew existed.
“What? No!”
“Jinki, let’s be frank. You look like shit. All grumpy and far off in whatever la-la world you have found. If that’s not being in bad mood, then I just might be Miss Korea.” He has no energy left to pretend. Once he shed it all, he’s acting completely out of hand.
“But. Well. Oh, whatever. It’s none of your business”, Jinki utters all straight lines and canned feelings.
“It fucking is, you wanker”, he’s nearly shouting and he knows he’s being unfair. He’s moody more often than not. Ignores Jinki. Answers half-assed. Hides things from him. Gets angry over the most insignificant things. Small gestures.
“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten but you said friends should tell each other everything. I don’t see you doing that.”
“It’s not as if you’re so open either. Playing a different person each day. Pretending in front of everyone. I may not be fooled quite so easily. I may see exactly who you are and you may let me. But that doesn’t give you the right to tell me to be honest about everything.” Jinki’s voice is barely there. He goes away and out of Taemin’s sight quicker than he can blink. Taemin, well done.
He thinks they both create too much drama. Key would have been proud. They go from hogging each other’s free time to avoiding each other like the worst plague. It’s not even the first time. So he starts going out pointlessly with his uni “friends” again. Mindless drinking, dancing to shitty music in some dodgy clubs.
(They don’t question any change. It’s safe and comfortable like worn shoes. Just much more fake.)
He’s doing it today too. Whatever-her-name-is has invited him to her birthday party. Considering the occasion and the place, he has no doubt he’ll be wasted come midnight. Not that it stops him. He’s stubborn after all and acting like the stupid teenager he is, has become his main occupation. So he goes. And drinks. And drinks. And then drinks some more. And dances. Different girls grinding. Maybe even guys. He’s at least 3 tequilas past the point of caring. Lips coated in the salt. The colourful ceiling is spinning so nice. He feels like he’s boneless, effortlessly moving to the beat. Time speeds up and then unexpectedly slows down. He looks to the right.
Taemin’s not the type who believes in fate, destiny, coincidences. But there’s Jinki, looking equally smashed. Though not very alone. The girl looks really familiar and he doesn’t mean in the way she moves or the length of her hair. Birthday girl? Somehow it all clicks. It’s been so obvious from the very beginning. He just didn’t want to connect the dots or maybe pretended he didn’t know the right answer. There’s been days he saw her and Jinki. Jinki’s been glowing. A lot. There’s been days when she was never around. Jinki’s been restless. Also a lot. And just recently. Just recently he saw them both again. He wants to run up to them, shake Jinki up. Now that’s really bad taste. Get your ugly, whore face away. However, he’s stunned. Hit by too many revelations. Completely sober. His skin so itchy. Sweat trailing his veins and leaving barely-there tracks. Thus, he leaves before his lungs may give up.
It’s dark again. Familiar darkness. Somehow he’s not so taken aback. The stars like fireworks. Ice. Ice. Ice. Something walking. Crawling. Grazing his legs. He’s cold and shivering. He doesn’t like. Shapes. He can see them. Snake-like, continuous beings. Big, black eyes. Sharp teeth. Gathering around. The ceiling collapsing. Slowly. Then quickly. Now. Black tar running over him and beyond. He’s sticking to the ground. Everything is coming towards him light-speed. He’s losing his thoughts. Empty shell full of cries. So he shouts.
He’s in the centre of some town. It seems rather small. There’s a fountain right in the middle of a paved park. He inches towards it. A bit cautious but gaining hope. There are teddy bears where the water’s supposed to be. Different types, various sizes. No one around. He can feel his shoulders relaxing. It’s sunny. Seems like it’s the middle of the day. White clouds on the perfectly blue sky. Bright green trees looming on the sides. And there are bugs everywhere. Weird shapes. Big. Going round and round. Round and round the fountain. Which probably is not a fountain. He wants to reach the teddy bears. It’s disgusting. Elaborate trap. The moment he kills one, it becomes two. They multiply. Forever and ever and ever and...He’s pretty sure he’s losing his mind. And he chops them all. Chops them in half. Sometimes near the head. Then, near the abdomen. Misses. Trips. Nearly falls. Swarming.
Wakes up.
He’s lying on the grass in some unidentified park he went to on impulse. No blanket but it’s warm enough. There’s Jinki invading his thoughts. Constantly. Day and night. It’s selfish to be so obstinate. Hasn’t he had girlfriends too? He never wanted to share the unnecessary drama. Somehow he can’t accept her. Such a stain on the perfect white shirt that is Jinki. She’s disturbing, almost like a snake. Twisting herself around him. Choking to death. Shouldn’t he have introduced her to me at least? He sighs. Possessive feelings are swirling about. Quite a novelty indeed. I’m lonely.
He walks back. Cold wind hitting him in the face. Beating sense into him maybe. He has already surrendered. His pride and beliefs. Jinki’s destroying his fortifications like it’s mere sand. But it’s impossible to be an immature retard forever. Obvious. He’s passing Jinki’s house which, considering they live in a suburban area, is fairly similar to his. Even their rooms are in the exact same place. He stops looking at it and concentrates on the ground. The grey pavement. The perfectly trimmed grass.
It’s hard and painful, how he collides. Almost falling back and down. A hand grabs him just in time. It comes as no surprise. Fortune hasn’t been liking him too much lately. The expression on Jinki’s face is unreadable. A mix. Ever changing. Emotions entangled like fast-forward, rewind.
“I saw you’re back with your girlfriend. Whoever she found must have really sucked”, he says breathless and just tiny bit scared. Irony imprinted. Deep and clear.
“I saw you in the club.”
“Well, she invited me. It’s not like I go around stalking you-”
“Taemin. Can’t we just talk? But really talk without biting each other?”
He sighs again. Always because of Jinki.
“Can we? She dumps your ass and goes on a rendezvous. Then, she decides it’s ok to come back and messes with your head. You’re devastated and self-pitying yourself. While she probably fucks every willing guy.” He expects it. Jinki’s strength is no laughing matter. It stings rather badly.
“How dare you!”
“Because I know her. And you know all of this too. Can’t you just be better to yourself?! I get that you love her. I get that! But loving someone who plays you, has you wrapped around her finger. She doesn’t even care! She probably two-times you. All. The. Time. You’re aware of that, aren’t you? That’s why you cried?” His voice is getting quieter. He can’t stop talking. It’s getting out of him in form of a wave. Powerful. So careless.
“I know. I know!”
“Do you still love her? Even after how much she has hurt you?”
“I’m not with her anymore.”
“I’m not asking if you are. It’s not connected.”
“I probably don’t.”
He’s kind of stunned.
“But weren’t you...”
“I thought I were but more than being in love, I was just hanging onto something that was an illusion. 4 years are a lot of time. No one is content with letting go without a fight but I have no energy to fight forever. Look, I’m not good at talking about my feelings. So can we like stop?”
“Ok.” he’s back to admiring the ground.
“Look-”
“I’m sorry. I have no idea how you manage to put up with me all the time.”
Because you’re the guy who thinks too much. I take it as it is. Maybe I think too little. Together we are a perfect match.
They’re doing pretty well, he thinks. Jinki’s a bit more cheerful every day. He’s maybe a bit more open himself. No one shouts. It’s not all perfect though. It’s far from being perfect, to be honest. There’s this cloud. Hanging above them. Heavy with things unspoken and messing with their minds.
He has no idea when he started to care or when Jinki’s mood began to affect him. Probably somewhere around him saying “Hi” and bursting his bubble like personal space has never existed. So he cares. Too much for his liking. He decided when he was 14. All stupid and tormented by emotions; saying nonsense and being full of bile. He won’t get close to people, he will only pretend. Play roles. Invent characters. Only sometimes dance. Now it’s all over so he needs to learn how to get rid of the garbage he has left behind. Jinki’s not trying to make it easier. Not that Taemin thinks he would deserve that. And Jinki’s a wreck. Loving and not loving. Aware of everything but trying to deny. Hating so much. Then crying. Alone. Taemin’s there as a part of decoration. Blending with the walls. Saying something once in a while. Mostly unnoticed. He has to admit, he expected more. Jinki’s so nice, right? Still, it may be just for good. For once he’s the one being ignored. Tasting his own poison. Well, isn’t it just delicious?
“You don’t have to be here, you know.”
“I want to.”
“Is your conscience biting you?” There’s a bitter laugh.
“I’ve never lied to you.”
“Yes but you never felt the need to tell me much either.”
“Jinki-”
“Look, it’s not that I don’t understand. I do. But I don’t want to. She left me just like that. No surprise at all as if she expected the break-up. I thought she was actually proud of herself. So I’m the dumb one left and everyone knew from the start. Isn’t it amazing how others can use you? I’m always there for everyone, listening to their whining, being understanding, oh so considerate. Now I have enough. So I won’t start being understanding. I just won’t. You should spare yourself all this drama too.”
“No, I shouldn’t and you should just finally cry. Get it out of yourself. The world is never going to be a fair place.”
“Says who? As far as I can remember, you turned your back on this world precisely because it wasn’t fair.”
He can’t help but feel hurt. It must show on his face. Jinki’s suddenly all tense. So embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. I’m being such an ass.”
“Considering how many times I’ve been one, you’re just working your share.”
Jinki’s next to him. Pressed from head to toe. He can feel the warmth, tingling his side.
“Am I not supposed to be your voice of reason of sorts?”, he laughs.
“You’re already the only sane person I know. Enough to make me want to trust you”, Taemin whispers.
“If going through break ups looks always the same, I may just spare myself the problems next time”, he shifts a bit. “Can I get a hug?”
“What?!”, Taemin’s spluttering. Completely flabbergastered.
“A hug.”
Before he can react, Jinki’s tucking himself into the space between his neck, arms holding onto his waist with barely-there desperation. Fingers digging into his bones. He’s like a big kid forced to grow up too quickly. Tough on the outside, doing everything right, so dependant, all warm smiles. Taemin could have never guessed how easy to break on the inside. All cracks and shaking. Like me.
It’s awkward again. He can’t think of what to do. There are too many emotions. All at once. Something is tugging at his heart. It’s strong. A bit like the prickles. His stomach is doing flip-flops? It’s a bit like there’s no gravity inside. Empty space floating around. No butterflies. No. More like eagles and a hoard of them at the same time. It’s making him dizzy and he hates the feeling. Such helplessness. So he hugs Jinki. Presses himself into Jinki more like he’s the one trying to hide.
It’s not sudden. He knew all along. Jinki’s worth growing up.
Where do we go from here?
They’re stuck in the library again. It’s the last month before the final exams. Jinki’s a pro at it, having gone through this already three times. Wake up at 7.30. Eat breakfast. Get ready and take the bus. 2nd floor, the tables on the right hand side. Tea break. Books and notes and books and notes. Lunch. 2nd floor, the same table, the same chair. Notes, notes, notes. Heavy eyelids. Bus back home. 12.30. Sleep and repeat.
He says he’s been forced to tag along. However, it’s easier to concentrate. Take his mind off living a life and put it on re-living past exams. And Jinki knows almost everything. His own private encyclopaedia. He can’t complain. It makes it a piece of cake. Forgetting about a void which has been visiting his stomach so frequently. Fluttering intestines. He thinks that for once he will stop analyzing the situation. He wants to keep himself intact. Losing sanity at such a time is not too advisable.
He’s being distracted today. The table opposite of theirs. Vacant for past week is now full and of some annoyingly plastic girls. He is certain that he would be able to tell if they’re staring from a mile away. Hushed giggles. Talking and talking and talking and...
“Stop that.”
His hands are gripping the table hard.
“Stop what?”
“I really need to keep in mind that pissing you off is not a very good idea. I don’t give you enough credit.”
He can’t help but stare at Jinki with pure wonder.
“You don’t notice yourself?”, he laughs. “Taemin, you’ve been looking at the girls sitting opposite of us with an expression full of killing intent and deep disgust.”
Jinki seems more amused than Taemin can remember. Shaking his head as if he can’t believe a second of what has happened.
“What got you so uptight?”
“...”
“What have they done? Apart from obviously appreciating your good looks, I mean.”
The second Jinki’s done, he’s dumb-founded. It’s all getting a bit too confusing.
“What do you mean? Appreciating my good looks?”
“Uhmm, I’m quite sure that half of our uni would like to tap you. Excuse me for being crude.” Jinki’s still very amused and Taemin’s just not comprehending.
“Are you trying to say that instead of looking at you, they were actually staring at me because I’m good looking?”
“Taemin. Have you never looked in the mirror?”
It’s not that he has never been complimented like this before. He’s been told he’s pretty. Had a few girls swooning now and then. Never thinking too much of it. Because, isn’t he awkward? Lips too big, rather for a girl. Skinny. Like flesh and bones and hidden muscles. So feminine.
“Don’t you mean I’m pretty, almost like a girl?”
“If it was just that, don’t you think girls wouldn’t be interested?”
“Does that mean you’re interested?” and Jinki’s spluttering. Red faced.
“Don’t worry. I’m just teasing you.”
That said, he can’t help but feel more accomplished than on any other day. Because Jinki admitted he’s pretty. And that’s a completely normal reaction, considering they’re friends.
When they’re on the bus, going back, his head heavy and overflowing with more knowledge than he has ever crammed into it before, it’s back. The fluttering. He’s using Jinki as a pillow. Making himself comfortable on the collarbones. Trying to levitate himself into the space between Jinki’s neck and shoulders. He’s feeling almost a physical urge to fold himself and curl around Jinki’s spine. Imprint himself into every cell and read his mind. He’s too tired to fight it. That means Jinki’s my best friend...? His pulse just a tad too fast and his fingers yearning. It’s a first. Jinki is made of shy smiles.
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Constructive criticism is always welcome. Now excuse me while I go and die from embarrassment =_=
The fic I promised jinkissleen so proceed with caution my dear flist Ä