Only Human
Title: Perfection
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: 2min
Genre: Angst, romance, fluff
Summary: When the world seems to become too much and Taemin messes up one too many times, can anyone pull him out of his self-hatred and loathing to get him to realize it's okay to just be a human being?
A/N: Wrote this for a contest a long time ago and didn't win... but hey, I liked it. :)
Perfection.
Did such a word truly exist in physical form? Nothing is truly perfect, truly faultless, truly flawless. Everything, every person has faults, something deeply rooted into the history of the earth that disallowed anything the ability to embody utter excellence. Though several wished to achieve perfection and others were said to obtain it, nothing was truly perfect. People that were said to be immaculate knew the truth behind the innocent accusations. They knew their own flaws, every imperfection in their physical features, every miniscule crack in their personalities and thoughts. They felt the pressures of upholding the image of being a creature of beauty, of purity, and would crack on occasion, lashing out.
One person held under this image was none other than Lee Taemin, lead dancer, beauty to all, sweet faced, and quiet by nature. Fans flocked to him, bent to his will, and would do practically anything just for a glimpse of his smile. Many of the girls that followed him thought the boy could do no wrong. He was so mild-tempered and kind. He was an amazing performer, flawless with his slick moves and quick reflexes. He was a sight to behold and everything he did was recorded for future enjoyment.
Taemin knew this. He knew just how people viewed him, what they held him as in their sight. He had been called an angel more than once, he was thought of as a holy being. But he knew he wasn’t. Every time someone would ask him why he was so perfect or tell him he was some kind of superb being, he would blush, hiding his mouth behind his hand as his cheeks began to tinge pink, lips wide in a smile. Just as soon as he got over the shock and flattery, the boy would shake his other hand, quickly denying the accusations, always replying with the same phrase, “I’m nothing but a human like you.”
It almost became a routine, an act that Taemin would perform on repeat. And such as everything that is repetitive, it became boring and annoying to the young man. He grew tired of upholding an image that wasn’t himself, one that the fans had painted and that he had grown out of. It was the most tiring part of his life sometimes. He had to remember to smile, remember to stay innocent, remember to talk quietly, remember that he was young, remember that he was still alive, remember that he wasn’t a robot that was programmed to do what everyone else wanted him to do. He was still human, he still had a heart and a soul, and he was still entitled to have a bad day.
The day was packed with performances and interviews and there would barely be any time to breathe, much less think. Taemin was still tired from the night before, dark circles rimming his eyes as he shuffled to the makeup chair at their first venue. He sat; lips pressed in a thin line of annoyance as hands touched him and ‘fixed’ him. He watched as he was transformed from an overly tired kid to a perfect idol though his attitude was still shining through. Taemin wanted to lock himself up in his room, listen to his music loud, and sleep. But the manager was eyeing him, giving him warning glances that told him to pull himself together.
With tired limbs and an aching mind, the boy stood up, feeling the heavy weight of the microphone equipment on his back a slight comfort of familiarity. He heard the screams of fans as someone talked about the upcoming performance. Taemin’s overly tired gaze wandered around to his group mates, noting that he was the only one that seemed agitated and tired. Jinki was smiling while Jonghyun warmed up his vocals. Key was fiddling with his clothes, checking his appearance in the mirror as per usual. Minho was merely standing nearby, idly flattening his hands over his clothes, emanating a warm, calming aurora.
The tiniest hint of a smile quirked at the boy’s lips as Taemin watched him silently for a moment. Minho had always been the warm, caring type. It was one of the several reasons the dancer loved him. All the taller male would need to do was give him a calm glance or tenderly stroke at a patch of his skin and all of the negative emotions Taemin was feeling would dissipate within moments. But this time Minho didn’t look up, he wasn’t nearby to calm the anger that seemed to boil under the boy’s skin at his forced image of perfection.
The group was ushered onto the stage and Taemin’s head was bogged down with thoughts. All of the faces that were hidden by the stage lights, all of the screams bounced around and reverberated through his skull and he felt the impending headache. The music blared, the tempo rumbling through the floor on the stage and he almost felt sick. He didn’t want to do this today, he just wanted to sleep. All of his moves were on autopilot, all of his singings barely even there as he let the recording sing for him. He wasn’t paying attention, his mind felt heavy and all it took was one wrong step and the stage was suddenly rushing towards him and he winced, waiting for the impact.
But it never came. Instead he felt a large, warm hand on his bicep, steadying him for a moment until he stood up a bit straighter. Taemin knew it was Minho who had helped him, the other’s mere presence familiar and comforting at the same time. The rest of the performance became a blur, the headache becoming almost overwhelming. He knew he missed a few steps, that the fans would see, that they would know, and it would be replayed over and over by thousands of fans. In turn he no longer felt anger towards his image; rather he felt anger towards himself.
When the performance was over, the young man left the stage in a huff, trying to mask his fury. Taemin kept away from the rest of the group members, knowing if he did that he would most likely unleash everything on them and he did not want to do that. He sat and waited for their manager to tell them it was time for their next meeting. They were shuffled into a van and Taemin was stuffed into the back of the white vehicle like normal. But for once he wanted some room to breathe and he subconsciously shot a look at Jinki who sat next to him that read murder.
Taemin felt like he was being weighed down, that the walls were pressing around him slowly and he wondered just how long this could last. His skin was crawling slightly and he felt overly heated. He just wanted to escape. He felt trapped even within his own body and it took all his power not to smack Jinki’s leg away when it brushed against his. Everything, every little thing was driving him up the wall. The way Key seemed to nag at Jonghyun insistently about cleaning the dishes that morning. The way Jinki seemed to smile at him too kindly and try to coax him into conversation. The way Minho seemed to stay silent through all of the rambling and the steady stream of music from the radio.
The dancer just wanted everyone to shut up: to just shut up and go away and leave him to his peace. But Taemin knew he couldn’t scream, he knew he couldn’t vent, and that he would worry everyone else if he did. Instead of lashing out, he bottled it up, making himself a time bomb just ready to explode. He pulled out his iPod, glad he hadn’t lost it, and jammed the earbuds in his ears. He turned the dial up to the very loudest point and just let the calm, classical music sift through his mind and settle him. He didn’t have to hear his hyungs and he curled away from Jinki enough to keep from being touched.
Slowly his body cooled down, though his headache didn’t seem to stop, but at least it was becoming a bit more bearable. Taemin’s skin no longer crawled and he didn’t feel that burn at the back of his throat anymore. The burn that often indicated he was growing sick to his stomach and that he was overly agitated all together. He was starting to feel better and his nerves were soothed by the sweet sound of piano and violin paired together. The instruments’ melodies waltzed across his eardrum, tickling at his mind with tender fingers of serenity.
But it all came to an abrupt halt as the van stopped and he felt a timid hand on his shoulder. All of his mistakes and all of his worries and that god awful headache all came crashing down on him again. Taemin moved slowly, climbing out of the van and heading into the radio station. The fans with cameras called to him and he gave a polite wave and nod of his head. No smile could be found on his face as he walked past them, heading inside the building. Taemin couldn’t bring himself to put on his false mask of kindness and he just headed to the chair between Jonghyun and Key like normal.
Taemin was closing himself off, staring at the wall as his annoyed thoughts circled in his mind. He kept replaying the fall that almost happened over and over in his mind. If Minho hasn’t caught him, if he hadn’t been so damn fast, the smaller boy could have been hurt much more than just being annoyed with himself. His mind was so filled with angry thoughts towards himself about messing up and nearly falling that he failed to notice the introduction of Shinee and was jabbed in the side when he didn’t speak his name when motioned towards.
People immediately began to laugh as he gave a fake smile and stammered through an introduction. The host launched into an endearing message of how absentminded Taemin could be while Key and Jinki readily agreed. Jonghyun threw in an example and Taemin just sat back, cheeks red. He tried to shove it off as embarrassed when all the while he was actually ticked beyond belief. Not only had his performance gone terribly, but now he was missing introductions and making a complete fool of himself. He felt so much agitation towards his hyungs that he almost threw his water bottle at one of them. They only added to his frustrations, creating a heavier burden on his chest as the show carried on. They continued to come back to his failed greeting, kept making him feel subpar and idiotic. It just added to his stress and it was becoming near impossible for him to keep his face blank. The only person who didn’t say a word about him was the ever attentive Minho.
When the show ended, Taemin kept his face impassive as he left the radio station. He was ready to go home, but he wasn’t sure how much more of the day the manager had planned for them. As he headed to load onto the van, their manager followed in after them, sitting in the passenger’s seat. He looked back towards the youngest member and narrowed his eyes in warning. “You need to get your act together Taemin. I don’t know what’s wrong with you today, but we have a big performance today.” The words were cold and pointed, each syllable weighted with a promised consequence.
Taemin felt dread sink into his gut as they traveled to the venue for a quick sound check. He was so angry, so frustrated, and so upset that during the entire practice he couldn’t even motivate himself to dance through everything properly. When he bumped into Jinki as they switched spots on the stage, he didn’t even apologize as he kept going. Jinki’s gaze became concerned and even Jonghyun finally realized just how upset the youngest had become. It seemed as though Taemin’s black aurora got to the rest of the members in the end. They began to distance themselves from him after the sound check ended; giving him much needed space to breathe.
Taemin watched absently as the others parted their ways. Jinki went to talk to the coordi-noonas and Jonghyun and Kibum drifted off into their own worlds. The blonde gave them one last impassive glance and dipped out of the room, knowing he had a few hours to himself before the performance. He headed down the hallway, seeing the fans outside, waiting for a peek of their oppa or dongsaeng. The young male shook his head, turned the other way, and headed to the back of the building where the fans weren’t allowed. He stepped outside and took a deep breath of the chilling air and felt his gut calm. It seemed as though the knots that were in his stomach were finally letting up.
The dancers leaned against the wall, breathing deep and slow as he tried to calm himself further. But that process was halted as his guilt at being second to best finally hit him. Taemin took pride in his work, took pride in the image he portrayed no matter how false it may be. He wanted to merely curl up in his room and give up. The guilt and the burden of being perfect set in and it felt like he was suffocating under an invisible pressure. He could already hear the cries of concerned fans, see the worried glances he had chose to ignore from their leader, and knew of the talk that would come from Kibum later. All of this stress he gave to others just by having one off day was not something that could sit well on his conscious.
It was known among almost everyone that knew Shinee that the boy didn’t cry often. It was hard to make Taemin feel as though his world was crumbling or that he wasn’t doing his absolute best and giving it his all. He felt the emotions he had bottled up since that morning finally spilling over as a single, hot tear slipped from his tear ducts. He wanted to scrub it away, but he knew he needed this catharsis to let it all go. He needed to feel better, if only for a little while.
Taemin took a shaky breath and let the emotions break over him in waves, each one stronger than the last. Each crash of internal hatred towards himself brought more salt water on his cheeks, making them glisten. He knew he sounded stupid, that his eyes were becoming blood shot and he was overall unattractive at that moment. It all washed over him, all of his regret, his frustration, his anger, and his guilt. All of the blame he placed on himself for being idiotic and not giving it his all when he performed finally hit him in the chest and it felt like his heart twisted in the grip of an icy hand against his will.
A desperate sob for relief broke from his lips and he finally hid his face behind slender hands as Taemin felt ashamed of himself. It shouldn’t have got this bad within himself, he shouldn’t have let it get to this point, but it did. He felt as if he were going to tumble over the edge of insanity, that his mind was no longer his own and he didn’t even know himself. Who was this distraught, depressed person? It certainly wasn’t Lee Taemin of Shinee, it wasn’t who he identified himself as.
Just as he began to drown under those crashing waves, his mind weak from thrashing in the waters of regret and frustration, something finally broke through to him. Taemin hadn’t heard the door open to his silent place. He hadn’t heard the sound of feet approaching him slowly. He was shocked when two warm hands gripped his wrists, pulling his palms from his cheeks to reveal the tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes. A gasp had escaped him, a tiny sound of shock at seeing Minho in front of him through his glaze of unshed tears. No matter how blurry the other boy had become, he could still tell it was his hyung, the only person that seemed to understand him sometimes.
Thumbs pressed into soft cheeks, caressing away the moisture that had collected on the mounds of doughy flesh. Taemin gave a soft hiccup, unable to speak as he was pulled into a strong chest, face buried into a bundle of flesh and hard muscles that seemed to naturally ripple with each breath that Minho took. All of this warmth that suddenly surrounded the boy made him feel even worse, that he was so weak that the other boy had to come and save Taemin from himself. He cried harder, cold hands clinging to the front of the thin shirt on the rock-like chest, delicate fingers, gripping desperately for a reality he wanted.
A warm palm slid down to the small of the dancer’s back, pressing into the muscles and flesh comfortingly. Long fingers softly gently caressed at the curve of Taemin’s spine through the shirt he wore and he felt the reassurance that Minho was providing for him. Taemin trembled as the emotions began to ebb away slowly away with the tide of feelings that had bombarded him before. If he felt any doubt before, it was easily washed away at the deeply murmured words that came from Minho a few moments later. “Taemin-ah, you do know it’s okay to mess up and to be human right? You know you don’t have to be perfect all the time. It’s okay to be a normal teenager sometimes.”
It was the small, simple words that shook that cold grip away from his heart. It was the deep, rumbling voice that pulled him out of the sea of turmoil and broke through to him. It was the warm feel of skin against his own that finally gave him a ray of sunshine. Minho knew all the right things to say, all of the words that could break through to him. He gave a weak sound against the warm chest as he gave in to the reality he knew so well. Taemin allowed himself to think that it was okay to be imperfect, that it was okay to mess up every once in awhile. He knew in himself that he gave so much a majority of the time that he could slack at least one day. He couldn’t blame himself for being overly tired, overly emotional, and overly worked by his company. He was just a human being, he said it himself numerous times, so why couldn’t he give himself a break when he deserved it?
Taemin gave a weak sound, pulling back from Minho to look up at him. He stared up through his now clear gaze and felt himself give a small, almost humorless laugh as he slowly got over his own insecurities. He tried to smile, tried to get back to how he should feel, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself out of his own terrible attitude. Minho’s large gaze peered back at him, seeming to know all the words he needed to hear just laid within that stare.
All of his anger and frustration dissolved away in one final act provided by the elder male. A strong hand reached up to cup his cheek, slender neck bending down as his face was tilted up, and the other hand pulled him closer, finger tips digging gently into his lower back. Taemin’s eyes fluttered closed as plush lips met his own, tenderly brushing in light strokes of flesh over his mouth. He took an inhale of breath through his nose and eased his grip from the shirt and circled it around the elder boy’s neck.
The kiss wasn’t one for desperation or lust. It was soft and slow, one of reassurances and promises. There was the promise that Minho would be there to console Taemin until he was happy again. There was the reassurance that Taemin didn’t have to uphold the image of being a perfect idol that always smiled and gave an air of innocence. It conveyed emotions of pure love and devotion that licked at their cores with a pure warmth that they only felt towards one another. It was only with Minho that Taemin felt the need to let his guard down.
Taemin was grateful to have Minho in his life. The elder was a steady constant that gave him something to cling to when everything seemed to get out of control. It was young, untainted, and uninhibited emotions that the dancer felt towards the rapper. Taemin was sure that no one could ever replace the space in his heart that Minho had carved into it. He was sure that no one could ever fill that place if this were to ever end. But for now, he was happy to stay by Minho’s side and feel the warmth the other provided, knowing that it was okay to be a human being void of perfection.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: 2min
Genre: Angst, romance, fluff
Summary: When the world seems to become too much and Taemin messes up one too many times, can anyone pull him out of his self-hatred and loathing to get him to realize it's okay to just be a human being?
A/N: Wrote this for a contest a long time ago and didn't win... but hey, I liked it. :)
Perfection.
Did such a word truly exist in physical form? Nothing is truly perfect, truly faultless, truly flawless. Everything, every person has faults, something deeply rooted into the history of the earth that disallowed anything the ability to embody utter excellence. Though several wished to achieve perfection and others were said to obtain it, nothing was truly perfect. People that were said to be immaculate knew the truth behind the innocent accusations. They knew their own flaws, every imperfection in their physical features, every miniscule crack in their personalities and thoughts. They felt the pressures of upholding the image of being a creature of beauty, of purity, and would crack on occasion, lashing out.
One person held under this image was none other than Lee Taemin, lead dancer, beauty to all, sweet faced, and quiet by nature. Fans flocked to him, bent to his will, and would do practically anything just for a glimpse of his smile. Many of the girls that followed him thought the boy could do no wrong. He was so mild-tempered and kind. He was an amazing performer, flawless with his slick moves and quick reflexes. He was a sight to behold and everything he did was recorded for future enjoyment.
Taemin knew this. He knew just how people viewed him, what they held him as in their sight. He had been called an angel more than once, he was thought of as a holy being. But he knew he wasn’t. Every time someone would ask him why he was so perfect or tell him he was some kind of superb being, he would blush, hiding his mouth behind his hand as his cheeks began to tinge pink, lips wide in a smile. Just as soon as he got over the shock and flattery, the boy would shake his other hand, quickly denying the accusations, always replying with the same phrase, “I’m nothing but a human like you.”
It almost became a routine, an act that Taemin would perform on repeat. And such as everything that is repetitive, it became boring and annoying to the young man. He grew tired of upholding an image that wasn’t himself, one that the fans had painted and that he had grown out of. It was the most tiring part of his life sometimes. He had to remember to smile, remember to stay innocent, remember to talk quietly, remember that he was young, remember that he was still alive, remember that he wasn’t a robot that was programmed to do what everyone else wanted him to do. He was still human, he still had a heart and a soul, and he was still entitled to have a bad day.
The day was packed with performances and interviews and there would barely be any time to breathe, much less think. Taemin was still tired from the night before, dark circles rimming his eyes as he shuffled to the makeup chair at their first venue. He sat; lips pressed in a thin line of annoyance as hands touched him and ‘fixed’ him. He watched as he was transformed from an overly tired kid to a perfect idol though his attitude was still shining through. Taemin wanted to lock himself up in his room, listen to his music loud, and sleep. But the manager was eyeing him, giving him warning glances that told him to pull himself together.
With tired limbs and an aching mind, the boy stood up, feeling the heavy weight of the microphone equipment on his back a slight comfort of familiarity. He heard the screams of fans as someone talked about the upcoming performance. Taemin’s overly tired gaze wandered around to his group mates, noting that he was the only one that seemed agitated and tired. Jinki was smiling while Jonghyun warmed up his vocals. Key was fiddling with his clothes, checking his appearance in the mirror as per usual. Minho was merely standing nearby, idly flattening his hands over his clothes, emanating a warm, calming aurora.
The tiniest hint of a smile quirked at the boy’s lips as Taemin watched him silently for a moment. Minho had always been the warm, caring type. It was one of the several reasons the dancer loved him. All the taller male would need to do was give him a calm glance or tenderly stroke at a patch of his skin and all of the negative emotions Taemin was feeling would dissipate within moments. But this time Minho didn’t look up, he wasn’t nearby to calm the anger that seemed to boil under the boy’s skin at his forced image of perfection.
The group was ushered onto the stage and Taemin’s head was bogged down with thoughts. All of the faces that were hidden by the stage lights, all of the screams bounced around and reverberated through his skull and he felt the impending headache. The music blared, the tempo rumbling through the floor on the stage and he almost felt sick. He didn’t want to do this today, he just wanted to sleep. All of his moves were on autopilot, all of his singings barely even there as he let the recording sing for him. He wasn’t paying attention, his mind felt heavy and all it took was one wrong step and the stage was suddenly rushing towards him and he winced, waiting for the impact.
But it never came. Instead he felt a large, warm hand on his bicep, steadying him for a moment until he stood up a bit straighter. Taemin knew it was Minho who had helped him, the other’s mere presence familiar and comforting at the same time. The rest of the performance became a blur, the headache becoming almost overwhelming. He knew he missed a few steps, that the fans would see, that they would know, and it would be replayed over and over by thousands of fans. In turn he no longer felt anger towards his image; rather he felt anger towards himself.
When the performance was over, the young man left the stage in a huff, trying to mask his fury. Taemin kept away from the rest of the group members, knowing if he did that he would most likely unleash everything on them and he did not want to do that. He sat and waited for their manager to tell them it was time for their next meeting. They were shuffled into a van and Taemin was stuffed into the back of the white vehicle like normal. But for once he wanted some room to breathe and he subconsciously shot a look at Jinki who sat next to him that read murder.
Taemin felt like he was being weighed down, that the walls were pressing around him slowly and he wondered just how long this could last. His skin was crawling slightly and he felt overly heated. He just wanted to escape. He felt trapped even within his own body and it took all his power not to smack Jinki’s leg away when it brushed against his. Everything, every little thing was driving him up the wall. The way Key seemed to nag at Jonghyun insistently about cleaning the dishes that morning. The way Jinki seemed to smile at him too kindly and try to coax him into conversation. The way Minho seemed to stay silent through all of the rambling and the steady stream of music from the radio.
The dancer just wanted everyone to shut up: to just shut up and go away and leave him to his peace. But Taemin knew he couldn’t scream, he knew he couldn’t vent, and that he would worry everyone else if he did. Instead of lashing out, he bottled it up, making himself a time bomb just ready to explode. He pulled out his iPod, glad he hadn’t lost it, and jammed the earbuds in his ears. He turned the dial up to the very loudest point and just let the calm, classical music sift through his mind and settle him. He didn’t have to hear his hyungs and he curled away from Jinki enough to keep from being touched.
Slowly his body cooled down, though his headache didn’t seem to stop, but at least it was becoming a bit more bearable. Taemin’s skin no longer crawled and he didn’t feel that burn at the back of his throat anymore. The burn that often indicated he was growing sick to his stomach and that he was overly agitated all together. He was starting to feel better and his nerves were soothed by the sweet sound of piano and violin paired together. The instruments’ melodies waltzed across his eardrum, tickling at his mind with tender fingers of serenity.
But it all came to an abrupt halt as the van stopped and he felt a timid hand on his shoulder. All of his mistakes and all of his worries and that god awful headache all came crashing down on him again. Taemin moved slowly, climbing out of the van and heading into the radio station. The fans with cameras called to him and he gave a polite wave and nod of his head. No smile could be found on his face as he walked past them, heading inside the building. Taemin couldn’t bring himself to put on his false mask of kindness and he just headed to the chair between Jonghyun and Key like normal.
Taemin was closing himself off, staring at the wall as his annoyed thoughts circled in his mind. He kept replaying the fall that almost happened over and over in his mind. If Minho hasn’t caught him, if he hadn’t been so damn fast, the smaller boy could have been hurt much more than just being annoyed with himself. His mind was so filled with angry thoughts towards himself about messing up and nearly falling that he failed to notice the introduction of Shinee and was jabbed in the side when he didn’t speak his name when motioned towards.
People immediately began to laugh as he gave a fake smile and stammered through an introduction. The host launched into an endearing message of how absentminded Taemin could be while Key and Jinki readily agreed. Jonghyun threw in an example and Taemin just sat back, cheeks red. He tried to shove it off as embarrassed when all the while he was actually ticked beyond belief. Not only had his performance gone terribly, but now he was missing introductions and making a complete fool of himself. He felt so much agitation towards his hyungs that he almost threw his water bottle at one of them. They only added to his frustrations, creating a heavier burden on his chest as the show carried on. They continued to come back to his failed greeting, kept making him feel subpar and idiotic. It just added to his stress and it was becoming near impossible for him to keep his face blank. The only person who didn’t say a word about him was the ever attentive Minho.
When the show ended, Taemin kept his face impassive as he left the radio station. He was ready to go home, but he wasn’t sure how much more of the day the manager had planned for them. As he headed to load onto the van, their manager followed in after them, sitting in the passenger’s seat. He looked back towards the youngest member and narrowed his eyes in warning. “You need to get your act together Taemin. I don’t know what’s wrong with you today, but we have a big performance today.” The words were cold and pointed, each syllable weighted with a promised consequence.
Taemin felt dread sink into his gut as they traveled to the venue for a quick sound check. He was so angry, so frustrated, and so upset that during the entire practice he couldn’t even motivate himself to dance through everything properly. When he bumped into Jinki as they switched spots on the stage, he didn’t even apologize as he kept going. Jinki’s gaze became concerned and even Jonghyun finally realized just how upset the youngest had become. It seemed as though Taemin’s black aurora got to the rest of the members in the end. They began to distance themselves from him after the sound check ended; giving him much needed space to breathe.
Taemin watched absently as the others parted their ways. Jinki went to talk to the coordi-noonas and Jonghyun and Kibum drifted off into their own worlds. The blonde gave them one last impassive glance and dipped out of the room, knowing he had a few hours to himself before the performance. He headed down the hallway, seeing the fans outside, waiting for a peek of their oppa or dongsaeng. The young male shook his head, turned the other way, and headed to the back of the building where the fans weren’t allowed. He stepped outside and took a deep breath of the chilling air and felt his gut calm. It seemed as though the knots that were in his stomach were finally letting up.
The dancers leaned against the wall, breathing deep and slow as he tried to calm himself further. But that process was halted as his guilt at being second to best finally hit him. Taemin took pride in his work, took pride in the image he portrayed no matter how false it may be. He wanted to merely curl up in his room and give up. The guilt and the burden of being perfect set in and it felt like he was suffocating under an invisible pressure. He could already hear the cries of concerned fans, see the worried glances he had chose to ignore from their leader, and knew of the talk that would come from Kibum later. All of this stress he gave to others just by having one off day was not something that could sit well on his conscious.
It was known among almost everyone that knew Shinee that the boy didn’t cry often. It was hard to make Taemin feel as though his world was crumbling or that he wasn’t doing his absolute best and giving it his all. He felt the emotions he had bottled up since that morning finally spilling over as a single, hot tear slipped from his tear ducts. He wanted to scrub it away, but he knew he needed this catharsis to let it all go. He needed to feel better, if only for a little while.
Taemin took a shaky breath and let the emotions break over him in waves, each one stronger than the last. Each crash of internal hatred towards himself brought more salt water on his cheeks, making them glisten. He knew he sounded stupid, that his eyes were becoming blood shot and he was overall unattractive at that moment. It all washed over him, all of his regret, his frustration, his anger, and his guilt. All of the blame he placed on himself for being idiotic and not giving it his all when he performed finally hit him in the chest and it felt like his heart twisted in the grip of an icy hand against his will.
A desperate sob for relief broke from his lips and he finally hid his face behind slender hands as Taemin felt ashamed of himself. It shouldn’t have got this bad within himself, he shouldn’t have let it get to this point, but it did. He felt as if he were going to tumble over the edge of insanity, that his mind was no longer his own and he didn’t even know himself. Who was this distraught, depressed person? It certainly wasn’t Lee Taemin of Shinee, it wasn’t who he identified himself as.
Just as he began to drown under those crashing waves, his mind weak from thrashing in the waters of regret and frustration, something finally broke through to him. Taemin hadn’t heard the door open to his silent place. He hadn’t heard the sound of feet approaching him slowly. He was shocked when two warm hands gripped his wrists, pulling his palms from his cheeks to reveal the tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes. A gasp had escaped him, a tiny sound of shock at seeing Minho in front of him through his glaze of unshed tears. No matter how blurry the other boy had become, he could still tell it was his hyung, the only person that seemed to understand him sometimes.
Thumbs pressed into soft cheeks, caressing away the moisture that had collected on the mounds of doughy flesh. Taemin gave a soft hiccup, unable to speak as he was pulled into a strong chest, face buried into a bundle of flesh and hard muscles that seemed to naturally ripple with each breath that Minho took. All of this warmth that suddenly surrounded the boy made him feel even worse, that he was so weak that the other boy had to come and save Taemin from himself. He cried harder, cold hands clinging to the front of the thin shirt on the rock-like chest, delicate fingers, gripping desperately for a reality he wanted.
A warm palm slid down to the small of the dancer’s back, pressing into the muscles and flesh comfortingly. Long fingers softly gently caressed at the curve of Taemin’s spine through the shirt he wore and he felt the reassurance that Minho was providing for him. Taemin trembled as the emotions began to ebb away slowly away with the tide of feelings that had bombarded him before. If he felt any doubt before, it was easily washed away at the deeply murmured words that came from Minho a few moments later. “Taemin-ah, you do know it’s okay to mess up and to be human right? You know you don’t have to be perfect all the time. It’s okay to be a normal teenager sometimes.”
It was the small, simple words that shook that cold grip away from his heart. It was the deep, rumbling voice that pulled him out of the sea of turmoil and broke through to him. It was the warm feel of skin against his own that finally gave him a ray of sunshine. Minho knew all the right things to say, all of the words that could break through to him. He gave a weak sound against the warm chest as he gave in to the reality he knew so well. Taemin allowed himself to think that it was okay to be imperfect, that it was okay to mess up every once in awhile. He knew in himself that he gave so much a majority of the time that he could slack at least one day. He couldn’t blame himself for being overly tired, overly emotional, and overly worked by his company. He was just a human being, he said it himself numerous times, so why couldn’t he give himself a break when he deserved it?
Taemin gave a weak sound, pulling back from Minho to look up at him. He stared up through his now clear gaze and felt himself give a small, almost humorless laugh as he slowly got over his own insecurities. He tried to smile, tried to get back to how he should feel, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself out of his own terrible attitude. Minho’s large gaze peered back at him, seeming to know all the words he needed to hear just laid within that stare.
All of his anger and frustration dissolved away in one final act provided by the elder male. A strong hand reached up to cup his cheek, slender neck bending down as his face was tilted up, and the other hand pulled him closer, finger tips digging gently into his lower back. Taemin’s eyes fluttered closed as plush lips met his own, tenderly brushing in light strokes of flesh over his mouth. He took an inhale of breath through his nose and eased his grip from the shirt and circled it around the elder boy’s neck.
The kiss wasn’t one for desperation or lust. It was soft and slow, one of reassurances and promises. There was the promise that Minho would be there to console Taemin until he was happy again. There was the reassurance that Taemin didn’t have to uphold the image of being a perfect idol that always smiled and gave an air of innocence. It conveyed emotions of pure love and devotion that licked at their cores with a pure warmth that they only felt towards one another. It was only with Minho that Taemin felt the need to let his guard down.
Taemin was grateful to have Minho in his life. The elder was a steady constant that gave him something to cling to when everything seemed to get out of control. It was young, untainted, and uninhibited emotions that the dancer felt towards the rapper. Taemin was sure that no one could ever replace the space in his heart that Minho had carved into it. He was sure that no one could ever fill that place if this were to ever end. But for now, he was happy to stay by Minho’s side and feel the warmth the other provided, knowing that it was okay to be a human being void of perfection.