Out of Touch [Ontae] [PG-13] [1/1]
Title: Out of Touch
Pairing: Ontae
Genre: Sci-fi, General
Rating: PG-13 [Language]
Word Count: 4,135
Summary: They never know where, when, or if they'll find another like themselves.
A/N: For the darling gooberso1 who has been patient with me after winning a 3,000+ word fic for donating to the SHINeeReplay4Japan auction. Thank you! She wanted it to be based off of this, so I tried my best! :)
& for being so scarce these days .. Ulcers have that way of sucking up all spare time. But summer is here, and I plan to kick back, relax and write. I really appreciate all of my loyal readers. Thank you. <3
&& If there's any confusion, the breaks between parts in this fic represent present to past.
&&& If anyone is interested in being or knows of a reliable beta .... ? :D
A smear of crimson tainting pure white.
Vision foggy, colors blending into an impossibly bright hue, it's hard to gather his bearings. Jinki can feel the cold biting at his exposed skin, but he can't register just what he should do to stop it. Just a minor discomfort among a vast expanse of others.
Blood on snow.
It clicks in his mind. Shit. That's not good. He manages to pick his head up from the clouds - or, is that the ground? - and spots a familiar patch of trees.
Trees, he recognizes trees. Hardly knows his own name, but he recognizes them.
He saw them that day.
That day.
The latest hits bump from the speakers as the Suzuki rolls to a stop. Lee Jinki is too busy jamming out, head tossed back and singing along at the top of his lungs while playing air guitar, to notice his life long friend and ski buddy for the day, Choi Minho, get out of the vehicle. It's not until his door on the passenger side of the car is opened and he's tossed onto the snow covered ground that he comes to the realization they've reached their destination.
“You're such an asshole!” he shouts good naturedly while picking himself off the ground.
Minho snickers. “Come and get your skis, grandpa.”
“Hey, punk!”
The tall college student ducks, easily dodging the snowball aimed at his head. “Come on, the mountain won't hike itself,” Minho chides, tossing his over grown locks out of his face.
Jinki curses his friend for such natural good looks. A comfortable silence falls between the companions as they set to work, getting ready for their back country skiing. Jinki wasn't such an adventurous skier that he'd ever done this before, but Minho being an adrenaline junkie knows all about it. He advised Jinki to bring snow shoes, since the mountain would be hard to trudge up just in boots.
When he finally finishes strapping in to the contraptions, Jinki tests out the snow shoes by walking over to a bunch of trees by where they parked.
“Ready?” Minho calls from the car.
Jinki leans against one of the trees, casts a look towards the path through the woods they would be taking. “You swear you know where we're going?”
“Even if we get lost, the weather is great,” Minho says with a shrug, pointing up at the blue skies.
“If you're sure. Lets go!”
Dumb. He should have never trusted Minho. The guy had a knack for under estimating everything, or at least he didn't understand the average person's limits. Jinki had been sore and exhausted by the time they got to a point on the mountain Minho was happy with.
They were switching their skis to their feet and snow shoes to their backs when it started.
Jinki shivers just at the memory. The wind had whipped at their faces before, but they hadn't thought to look up at the sky where heavy snow clouds were rolling in. Swollen and angry.
When the blizzard began, there was no warning. One moment they could see a wide scope around them, the next Jinki could hardly see Minho three feet away from him.
It hadn't been fore casted, but then, most fateful events in life aren't.
“Fuck!”
Jinki turns his head in the direction of Minho's swearing, manages to make out his shape. “What are we going to do?” he yells over the roar of the wind.
“We need to get back to the car!” Minho fights his way over to him, face hidden beneath a veil of thermal coverings and goggles.
Shimmying his neck guard up to cover beneath his goggles as well, Jinki nods. “It's going to take forever.”
“Just follow me, we'll go down slow.” Minho sounds hesitant, if not doubtful.
Jinki doesn't question the man, Minho is much more experienced in all of this, but he does reach out to set a hand on his friend's shoulder. Minho's tense body visibly relaxes.
“Lets do this,” he says confidently, locking eyes with Jinki.
They keep to the side edge of their skis while working their way down, carefully controlling their speed while fighting against the strength of the wind
Jinki is getting colder just remembering the day. At this rate he'll be an ice block before anyone finds him - not that anyone has any idea where he is. He curses himself for being so stupid, but even berating himself makes the pain in his left temple flare up.
Gingerly reaching up to inspect the pain, he pulls his hand away to find more blood, this time on the pads of his fingers.
What has he gotten himself into?
“I just need to get to the road,” he tells himself, wishing his body would just cooperate with his mind.
Jinki was never the most graceful kid. His parents had promised him he would grow out of his clumsiness, but at twenty he still tripped over his own feet. But he wouldn't just trip over his own feet, he would trip over his own feet in front of a group of foxy first years he actually had a chance with.
His clumsiness always came in at the worst of times.
Eyes focused solely on the shadow of Minho's figure in front of him, Jinki doesn't see the rock jutting out of the snow until it's too late. He's sent tumbling, skis over head. Propelled by the wind, he doesn't go straight down the slope so that Minho will see him, no, of course he crashes into the trees lining the path down.
“Holy shi - “ A collision with a tree cuts him off.
Jinki lets out a muffled groan, face shoved into the snow and skis finally coming to rest behind him. His seat is high in the air, only putting more force on his already raw cheek.
He opens his mouth to call for his friend, but only a croak comes out. Dehydration. That's what he needs right now. Letting his hand flop onto his back, he searches for his canteen.
There's nothing.
Picking his face up, Jinki scans the surrounding area. The wind and snow aren't as ferocious here, so it's easy for him to spot his gear some distance off, bucked off amidst his erratic cartwheels.
So far away …
Unconsciously, his hand goes to rest over his straining chest. His breath is coming out ragged and his heart is pounding, he probably cracked a few ribs. But there's nothing he can do for himself, so his hand slips back down to rest on his thigh.
He's freezing, in pain, and lost on the side of a mountain. Jinki bites his chapped bottom lip. He's so dead.
“Are you okay?”
Jinki nearly jumps out of his skin. He whips around to find a teenaged boy standing over him
“Gah, damn it,” he mutters scratchily, reaching up to grab his throbbing head.
The boy, with his eerie porcelain skin, stares down at him with his crescent shaped eyes.
“No, no I'm not,” Jinki manages, throat raw from the effort of speaking.
The boy blinks rapidly. “Why are you out here?”
“I - “ Jinki winces. “Water.”
Eyes darting from side to side, the boy nods his shaggy head of blond hair after some consideration. “Follow me,” his voice carries lightly, just loud enough to be heard.
Jinki sets his jaw, using every ounce of determination in his body to get to his feet. He pants from exhaustion, his body aching and mind disoriented. He's only just processing the feat of following the boy when the wind roars with renewed strength and billows of snow plow through the trees.
Jinki's mind jumps to thoughts of his friend. Minho made it back to the car safely with no doubt, but he could do something stupid looking for Jinki.
Just call for help, Minho … Jinki inwardly begs. His little savior can't possibly be any better off than himself, so to have three people on the mountain in this storm would be the worst situation.
Body beginning to tremble violently against the cold, jarring his already cracked ribs, Jinki presses his lips into a thin line. He doesn't know where this kid is leading him, but it might be somewhere protected from the storm. He forces his feet forward, his mind over riding his body's protests.
Setting out, Jinki wants to hold onto the boys sleeve at least - he thinks nothing of the boy's thin layers in the extreme cold until later - but his phantom rescuer stays just out of reach.
The trek is long and tedious, but thankfully they keep to the thick forest, blocking most of the storm. Jinki can't even comprehend his shock when a small, abandoned looking cottage comes into sight. He's laboring so hard just to move forward that the thought of resting overwhelms him.
The boy shuffles into the cottage, keeping the door open to allow Jinki entrance. He motions for the man to take a seat at the table in the open, one room home.
A thousand tons are lifted off Jinki's shoulders when he sits down. He exhales deeply, relief warming his insides while a steady fire burns behind him, warming the rest of him.
“Here's your water,” the boy says, setting a glass in front of him on the table.
Jinki graciously accepts it, downing the glass and the two following it. “Thank you,” says Jinki, voice back in working order.
The boy is perched on the counter in the make shift kitchen, peering at Jinki as if he has a second head.
“What's your, um, name?” Jinki asks, spinning the cup in his hands.
“Taemin.”
“Oh, Taemin?” he nods along with his words, “That's a … nice name.” He clears his throat, wishing he could clear the awkward tension in the cottage. “I'm Jinki.”
Taemin shifts on the counter, large sweater hanging over his thin shoulders and exposing his collar bone. It catches Jinki's eye immediately, sharp and feminine. It looks soft to the touch, yet elegant in an untouchable way. Jinki's always had a thing for collar bones …
“Why are you out here on your own?”
Because now that Jinki looks, this guy is all soft curves and delicate movements. Not the type to be living in the middle of no where by himself.
Taemin gazes out the window. “Is that any of your business?”
Jinki shrugs. “I guess not … “ He waits patiently, knowing his voice will soothe Taemin into giving him the information he wants.
“I … I prefer living alone.”
“Shouldn't you have found a cave to live in instead,” Jinki voices out loud, not really meaning to, but finding the observation funny none the less.
Caught between distaste and amusement, Taemin says, “I'm not a hermit.”
“It kinda seems that way, no offense.”
Pushing himself off of the counter, Taemin quickly crosses the room and sits down in the chair in front of Jinki. “Tell me what you're doing out here.”
“Back country skiing with a friend. Which reminds me, do you have a phone or something?”
Soft auburn locks muss as Taemin shakes his head “no.”
Jinki scrubs a palm over his tired eyes. “Great … “
“You can sleep on the bed over there,” Taemin says gently, motioning towards th other corner of the room.
Is this kid serious? Minho has probably called in the entire South Korean army by now, if he hasn't killed himself looking on his own .. Jinki will never hear the end of this. Taemin thinks he can just sleep?
“It will help clear your mind and give you more energy.”
Jinki groans, he has a point. He pushes back his chair and attempts to stand up, but his knees buckle beneath him as sharp tendrils of pain shoot up his legs. He collapses back into the chair, panting from the spike in his heart beat from the intense pain.
“Oh, I forgot.” Taemin reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a first aid kit. “Let me look at your legs.”
Should he trust him … Jinki is already in Taemin's house, not much worse he could do. Warily, Jinki shifts in his chair to allow Taemin easier viewing.
“You're going to need to take off your pants … “
“Right.” So why does he feel so uncomfortable doing that? Something about those plush lips and gentle locks of hair …
With a struggle and a lot of swearing, Jinki manages to pull of his various layers of clothing, revealing an array of swelling purples and blues. He sucks in a deep breath, only to feel a pang of breath taking pain in his side as well.
“It looks like you just got banged up pretty badly … Maybe a sprained ankle .. “ Taemin speaks slowly while examining Jinki's battered legs. “Does anything else hurt?” he asks, looking up from where he's wrapping Jinki's ankle.
“My side .. “
“Probably a cracked rib.”
Great. Jinki tilts his head back, stares at the ceiling. He wants to crack a joke right now to break the tight mood, but what is there to joke about?
“Did you know five out of three people have problems with fractions?”
Taemin blinks his liquid brown eyes up at him. “Was that a joke?”
Jinki bites the edge of his lip. “It was suppose to be … “ He chuckles awkwardly to himself.
“You might want to get some new material.”
“I think I'm funny,” he says stubbornly with a sniff, quickly interrupted by a hiss of air between his teeth as Taemin begins taping his side.
“Do you do this a lot?” Jinki asks through bared teeth, glancing down at the other man.
Taemin shrugs.
Jinki cocks his head to the side, momentarily forgetting his pain. “Why are you wearing gloves? I'm not bleeding.”
“Germaphobic.”
He says it so matter of factly, Jinki crinkles his eyebrows in disbelief. “Really, is that why you live out here on your own?”
Taemin roughly finishes the last piece of binding on his side. “You can go sleep now.”
“Why do you live out here on your own?” Jinki never was one for pushing his luck, but his interest is caught.
Shaking his head, Taemin moves to turn away. Jinki reaches out to grab his arm. As if in slow motion, he sees the horror spread across his savior's face.
“Don't touch me!”
The shouted command stops Jinki's hand short, just hovering above the exposed skin between Taemin's pushed up sleeves and latex gloves. Their eyes lock. They hold each other's gazes for a split second, but it feels like minutes to Jinki. The terror in Taemin's eyes pulls at his insides, hazily familiar. A kinship he just can't place.
What is it about this guy that calls out to him like a siren song?
The cutting slam of the door to the cottage shutting wakes Jinki from his daze and alerts him to Taemin's exit.
“W-wait!” he calls out, and with a good effort, pulls himself from his seat to follow.
There's a blizzard and Taemin is so fragile … He can't just take off!
Jinki steps into a blank sheet of paper when he closes the cottage door behind him. It hurts his head to see a completely blank canvas in front of him. The blizzard had gained strength while he'd been inside.
Taemin is no where to be seen.
“Shit,” Jinki mutters under his breath, hobbling a few steps only to sink into knee deep snow. “Fuck!”
Whatever path Taemin made trudging through the depths of snow have already been covered, leaving no trail as to what direction he took off in. Feeling hopeless, Jinki resorts to shouting desperately against the howling wind. His hair whips against his face, but not nearly as painfully as the biting cold does.
His lips are blue only five minutes in. Jinki pushes his way through snow drifts, wandering further and further from his warm haven. He doesn't have any choice but to go blindly ahead, he has to find Taemin.
“Taemin!” he shouts, voice growing raspy and weak.
His body shivers uncontrollably. Dark spots begin to dance into his vision.
“No, no, this can't be happening .. “ Jinki curses his poor stamina as he feels the tell tale signs of fainting creeping into his system.
His legs, unable to hold him up anymore, crumple beneath him. A cushion of snow catches him from falling very fall. He continues to make an attempt to yell for his lost companion, but realizes his lips aren't even moving.
Numbness spreads across his body.
Just like now.
Jinki doesn't want to give in to his unwilling limbs, but then he doesn't really have a choice. He wants to beg himself to just get up and keep searching, but all of his adrenaline from climbing out of his car, after careening off the ice slicked road and ending half way in a snow drift, has dissipated.
All of his healing injuries from before are flaring up, his ribs ache and his ankle is swollen for sure. Thankfully, no matter how much of a rush he's in, Jinki “click's it.” His seat belt saved him from much worse injuries than the few cuts and bruises he received from the wreck.
He curls up on his side, relishing in the ease of strain on his lungs. It won't last for long, but he can enjoy it for now.
A faint whirling and humming wakes him up. Jinki cracks an eyelid opens, feel his stomach drop when he sees a familiar sea of white. He's still stuck out here, but at least the wind seems to have died down. He wiggles his fingers and toes. The snow is soft, almost warm …
Warm. Snow is not warm …
“Where am I?” he hears a foreign voice speak, stealing the words from his mouth. Or was that his own voice … ?
A blurry face pops into his image, a halo of light around the person's head. “Hey, you're alive!”
Jinki tries to pull his arm up to rub the sleep from his eyes, but he feels a tug that keeps his arms in place. “Who … What …”
“Take it easy,” the face finally comes into focus, Minho grinning down at him, “You should be use to waking up in the hospital by now.”
A deep groan reverberates from Jinki as he lets his eyes fall shut again. “How?” He should have recognized the sickening antiseptic smell.
“You were completely dehydrated, broke a couple of ribs, and have a high ankle sprain,” Minho says, ticking down the list mentally, ”Football player injuries, you should be proud.”
Jinki nods. He already knew all of that … How did he already know all of that? He blinks, tries to clear the fog from his mind.
“.. Thankfully some kid found you … “
“Did you see the kid?”
Minho shoots him a questioning look. “He said you were unconscious the whole time, does it matter?”
“Did you see him?” Jinki repeats, the cogs in his mind slowly falling back into the pace of work.
“No, all I know is his name was Tae … Taemin, yeah, something like that.”
The monitor to the side of the bed tracks the jump in Jinki's heart beat. His blood pressure begins to climb along with it. Minho's large eyes flick between the apparatus and his friend.
“Whoa, calm down,” he says, voice lathered with concern, “You can't go flipping out after just barely waking up.”
“He's okay then?”
Minho stares at Jinki as if he's grown a second head. “Who?”
“Taemin.”
“Is … Yeah, I guess he is.” Minho chuckles to himself, shakes his head. “Typical Jinki, worrying about a complete stranger before himself.”
Jinki settles back against the hospital pillow. If Taemin is okay, why is he still so worried ... ?
The blizzard.
“How did he get back?”
Minho looks up from his book. “What?”
“Taemin went out into the blizzard … “
“Jinki, you need sleep.”
But he can't sleep, not when his mind is going through everything that took place. No heavy jacket in a blizzard, living alone in the mountains, refusal to be touched, unaffected by cold ..
“When can I leave?” he asks, sitting up once again.
Minho doesn't look up this time. “Relax, Jinki. Your mom is on her way. Something about taking you home to watch over you … “ he trails off, flipping the page of his book.
Jinki groans once again. “Why did you call her?”
“If you keep groaning you're going to get another ulcer.”
Shutting his mouth, lips pressed tight together, Jinki grumbles inwardly. If he could just think straight, he'd know a way to get out of this, but as of now he has no choice but to give in and be appreciative of his mother's over bearing care.
Which is what happens when she shows up two hours later, shaking Jinki from a fitful nap.
“Come on, baby, you're coming home,” she orders, beginning to unhook iv's herself.
“Mom, you can't - “
“Oh, please, I probably know more than the nurses here!”
Jinki catches Minho shoot a wave before dodging out of the room. Great friend, to think Jinki was concerned about his safety.
He'd gone back to his parent's home, allowed his mother to dote over him during the day. But that night, after assuring his mom that he was hydrated and not going to die if he was in his room alone, Jinki got out his lap top and did some research. His research could also have been perceived as some major creeping, but he never did anything half way.
Not that it took him long to find a search result for “Taemin” that matched his. A missing person's report was one of the first links.
A picture of his savior alongside an article describing his sudden disappearance at the beginning of the winter. His family had no idea where he could be or who he would be with, but that he had antisocial tendencies and refused to let anyone touch him.
And that's when he set out in his mind to find Taemin again.
He'd never been one for lying, especially to his parents, so when he told them he needed to borrow the car and get some things from his dorm for the long visit, they didn't question him.
He'd driven too recklessly.
Jinki lies in the snow, tasting the fresh powder along with the metallic tang of blood. The cut on his head is still at it. Not that his mind can think much passed that, thought process slowing along with his heart beats.
Is he going to fade out in white again?
“I've never seen someone so accident prone in my life.”
Hearing that voice, Jinki feels revived. With unknown strength, he rolls onto his back to face the form.
“I know.”
Taemin's dark eyes bare down on him. “You know you're accident prone?”
“No. I know.” He locks eyes with the teen.
“How - What?”
Jinki reaches his hand out, taking hold of Taemin's gloved hand. “You're .. you're one of us.” He swallows thickly, fumbling to take the glove off.
All fear that had jumped into Taemin's appearance at the action eases. He watches Jinki's hand in a daze. “One of .. you?”
“It's okay,” Jinki reassures, finally casting Taemin's glove off. He looks up, numb fingers wrapped around Taemin's just as chilling to the touch hand.
Taemin gapes at him “B-but, I've never .. I haven't been able to touch a person since - “
“Whatever you have, it can't affect me.”
Eyes rapidly blink as Taemin tries to fight back tears. He smiles down at Jinki's hand. “I,” his voice cracks,” I thought I was ... alone.” He falls to his knees beside Jinki, tears beginning to fall freely.
“You aren't.”
Pairing: Ontae
Genre: Sci-fi, General
Rating: PG-13 [Language]
Word Count: 4,135
Summary: They never know where, when, or if they'll find another like themselves.
A/N: For the darling gooberso1 who has been patient with me after winning a 3,000+ word fic for donating to the SHINeeReplay4Japan auction. Thank you! She wanted it to be based off of this, so I tried my best! :)
& for being so scarce these days .. Ulcers have that way of sucking up all spare time. But summer is here, and I plan to kick back, relax and write. I really appreciate all of my loyal readers. Thank you. <3
&& If there's any confusion, the breaks between parts in this fic represent present to past.
&&& If anyone is interested in being or knows of a reliable beta .... ? :D
A smear of crimson tainting pure white.
Vision foggy, colors blending into an impossibly bright hue, it's hard to gather his bearings. Jinki can feel the cold biting at his exposed skin, but he can't register just what he should do to stop it. Just a minor discomfort among a vast expanse of others.
Blood on snow.
It clicks in his mind. Shit. That's not good. He manages to pick his head up from the clouds - or, is that the ground? - and spots a familiar patch of trees.
Trees, he recognizes trees. Hardly knows his own name, but he recognizes them.
He saw them that day.
That day.
The latest hits bump from the speakers as the Suzuki rolls to a stop. Lee Jinki is too busy jamming out, head tossed back and singing along at the top of his lungs while playing air guitar, to notice his life long friend and ski buddy for the day, Choi Minho, get out of the vehicle. It's not until his door on the passenger side of the car is opened and he's tossed onto the snow covered ground that he comes to the realization they've reached their destination.
“You're such an asshole!” he shouts good naturedly while picking himself off the ground.
Minho snickers. “Come and get your skis, grandpa.”
“Hey, punk!”
The tall college student ducks, easily dodging the snowball aimed at his head. “Come on, the mountain won't hike itself,” Minho chides, tossing his over grown locks out of his face.
Jinki curses his friend for such natural good looks. A comfortable silence falls between the companions as they set to work, getting ready for their back country skiing. Jinki wasn't such an adventurous skier that he'd ever done this before, but Minho being an adrenaline junkie knows all about it. He advised Jinki to bring snow shoes, since the mountain would be hard to trudge up just in boots.
When he finally finishes strapping in to the contraptions, Jinki tests out the snow shoes by walking over to a bunch of trees by where they parked.
“Ready?” Minho calls from the car.
Jinki leans against one of the trees, casts a look towards the path through the woods they would be taking. “You swear you know where we're going?”
“Even if we get lost, the weather is great,” Minho says with a shrug, pointing up at the blue skies.
“If you're sure. Lets go!”
Dumb. He should have never trusted Minho. The guy had a knack for under estimating everything, or at least he didn't understand the average person's limits. Jinki had been sore and exhausted by the time they got to a point on the mountain Minho was happy with.
They were switching their skis to their feet and snow shoes to their backs when it started.
Jinki shivers just at the memory. The wind had whipped at their faces before, but they hadn't thought to look up at the sky where heavy snow clouds were rolling in. Swollen and angry.
When the blizzard began, there was no warning. One moment they could see a wide scope around them, the next Jinki could hardly see Minho three feet away from him.
It hadn't been fore casted, but then, most fateful events in life aren't.
“Fuck!”
Jinki turns his head in the direction of Minho's swearing, manages to make out his shape. “What are we going to do?” he yells over the roar of the wind.
“We need to get back to the car!” Minho fights his way over to him, face hidden beneath a veil of thermal coverings and goggles.
Shimmying his neck guard up to cover beneath his goggles as well, Jinki nods. “It's going to take forever.”
“Just follow me, we'll go down slow.” Minho sounds hesitant, if not doubtful.
Jinki doesn't question the man, Minho is much more experienced in all of this, but he does reach out to set a hand on his friend's shoulder. Minho's tense body visibly relaxes.
“Lets do this,” he says confidently, locking eyes with Jinki.
They keep to the side edge of their skis while working their way down, carefully controlling their speed while fighting against the strength of the wind
Jinki is getting colder just remembering the day. At this rate he'll be an ice block before anyone finds him - not that anyone has any idea where he is. He curses himself for being so stupid, but even berating himself makes the pain in his left temple flare up.
Gingerly reaching up to inspect the pain, he pulls his hand away to find more blood, this time on the pads of his fingers.
What has he gotten himself into?
“I just need to get to the road,” he tells himself, wishing his body would just cooperate with his mind.
Jinki was never the most graceful kid. His parents had promised him he would grow out of his clumsiness, but at twenty he still tripped over his own feet. But he wouldn't just trip over his own feet, he would trip over his own feet in front of a group of foxy first years he actually had a chance with.
His clumsiness always came in at the worst of times.
Eyes focused solely on the shadow of Minho's figure in front of him, Jinki doesn't see the rock jutting out of the snow until it's too late. He's sent tumbling, skis over head. Propelled by the wind, he doesn't go straight down the slope so that Minho will see him, no, of course he crashes into the trees lining the path down.
“Holy shi - “ A collision with a tree cuts him off.
Jinki lets out a muffled groan, face shoved into the snow and skis finally coming to rest behind him. His seat is high in the air, only putting more force on his already raw cheek.
He opens his mouth to call for his friend, but only a croak comes out. Dehydration. That's what he needs right now. Letting his hand flop onto his back, he searches for his canteen.
There's nothing.
Picking his face up, Jinki scans the surrounding area. The wind and snow aren't as ferocious here, so it's easy for him to spot his gear some distance off, bucked off amidst his erratic cartwheels.
So far away …
Unconsciously, his hand goes to rest over his straining chest. His breath is coming out ragged and his heart is pounding, he probably cracked a few ribs. But there's nothing he can do for himself, so his hand slips back down to rest on his thigh.
He's freezing, in pain, and lost on the side of a mountain. Jinki bites his chapped bottom lip. He's so dead.
“Are you okay?”
Jinki nearly jumps out of his skin. He whips around to find a teenaged boy standing over him
“Gah, damn it,” he mutters scratchily, reaching up to grab his throbbing head.
The boy, with his eerie porcelain skin, stares down at him with his crescent shaped eyes.
“No, no I'm not,” Jinki manages, throat raw from the effort of speaking.
The boy blinks rapidly. “Why are you out here?”
“I - “ Jinki winces. “Water.”
Eyes darting from side to side, the boy nods his shaggy head of blond hair after some consideration. “Follow me,” his voice carries lightly, just loud enough to be heard.
Jinki sets his jaw, using every ounce of determination in his body to get to his feet. He pants from exhaustion, his body aching and mind disoriented. He's only just processing the feat of following the boy when the wind roars with renewed strength and billows of snow plow through the trees.
Jinki's mind jumps to thoughts of his friend. Minho made it back to the car safely with no doubt, but he could do something stupid looking for Jinki.
Just call for help, Minho … Jinki inwardly begs. His little savior can't possibly be any better off than himself, so to have three people on the mountain in this storm would be the worst situation.
Body beginning to tremble violently against the cold, jarring his already cracked ribs, Jinki presses his lips into a thin line. He doesn't know where this kid is leading him, but it might be somewhere protected from the storm. He forces his feet forward, his mind over riding his body's protests.
Setting out, Jinki wants to hold onto the boys sleeve at least - he thinks nothing of the boy's thin layers in the extreme cold until later - but his phantom rescuer stays just out of reach.
The trek is long and tedious, but thankfully they keep to the thick forest, blocking most of the storm. Jinki can't even comprehend his shock when a small, abandoned looking cottage comes into sight. He's laboring so hard just to move forward that the thought of resting overwhelms him.
The boy shuffles into the cottage, keeping the door open to allow Jinki entrance. He motions for the man to take a seat at the table in the open, one room home.
A thousand tons are lifted off Jinki's shoulders when he sits down. He exhales deeply, relief warming his insides while a steady fire burns behind him, warming the rest of him.
“Here's your water,” the boy says, setting a glass in front of him on the table.
Jinki graciously accepts it, downing the glass and the two following it. “Thank you,” says Jinki, voice back in working order.
The boy is perched on the counter in the make shift kitchen, peering at Jinki as if he has a second head.
“What's your, um, name?” Jinki asks, spinning the cup in his hands.
“Taemin.”
“Oh, Taemin?” he nods along with his words, “That's a … nice name.” He clears his throat, wishing he could clear the awkward tension in the cottage. “I'm Jinki.”
Taemin shifts on the counter, large sweater hanging over his thin shoulders and exposing his collar bone. It catches Jinki's eye immediately, sharp and feminine. It looks soft to the touch, yet elegant in an untouchable way. Jinki's always had a thing for collar bones …
“Why are you out here on your own?”
Because now that Jinki looks, this guy is all soft curves and delicate movements. Not the type to be living in the middle of no where by himself.
Taemin gazes out the window. “Is that any of your business?”
Jinki shrugs. “I guess not … “ He waits patiently, knowing his voice will soothe Taemin into giving him the information he wants.
“I … I prefer living alone.”
“Shouldn't you have found a cave to live in instead,” Jinki voices out loud, not really meaning to, but finding the observation funny none the less.
Caught between distaste and amusement, Taemin says, “I'm not a hermit.”
“It kinda seems that way, no offense.”
Pushing himself off of the counter, Taemin quickly crosses the room and sits down in the chair in front of Jinki. “Tell me what you're doing out here.”
“Back country skiing with a friend. Which reminds me, do you have a phone or something?”
Soft auburn locks muss as Taemin shakes his head “no.”
Jinki scrubs a palm over his tired eyes. “Great … “
“You can sleep on the bed over there,” Taemin says gently, motioning towards th other corner of the room.
Is this kid serious? Minho has probably called in the entire South Korean army by now, if he hasn't killed himself looking on his own .. Jinki will never hear the end of this. Taemin thinks he can just sleep?
“It will help clear your mind and give you more energy.”
Jinki groans, he has a point. He pushes back his chair and attempts to stand up, but his knees buckle beneath him as sharp tendrils of pain shoot up his legs. He collapses back into the chair, panting from the spike in his heart beat from the intense pain.
“Oh, I forgot.” Taemin reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a first aid kit. “Let me look at your legs.”
Should he trust him … Jinki is already in Taemin's house, not much worse he could do. Warily, Jinki shifts in his chair to allow Taemin easier viewing.
“You're going to need to take off your pants … “
“Right.” So why does he feel so uncomfortable doing that? Something about those plush lips and gentle locks of hair …
With a struggle and a lot of swearing, Jinki manages to pull of his various layers of clothing, revealing an array of swelling purples and blues. He sucks in a deep breath, only to feel a pang of breath taking pain in his side as well.
“It looks like you just got banged up pretty badly … Maybe a sprained ankle .. “ Taemin speaks slowly while examining Jinki's battered legs. “Does anything else hurt?” he asks, looking up from where he's wrapping Jinki's ankle.
“My side .. “
“Probably a cracked rib.”
Great. Jinki tilts his head back, stares at the ceiling. He wants to crack a joke right now to break the tight mood, but what is there to joke about?
“Did you know five out of three people have problems with fractions?”
Taemin blinks his liquid brown eyes up at him. “Was that a joke?”
Jinki bites the edge of his lip. “It was suppose to be … “ He chuckles awkwardly to himself.
“You might want to get some new material.”
“I think I'm funny,” he says stubbornly with a sniff, quickly interrupted by a hiss of air between his teeth as Taemin begins taping his side.
“Do you do this a lot?” Jinki asks through bared teeth, glancing down at the other man.
Taemin shrugs.
Jinki cocks his head to the side, momentarily forgetting his pain. “Why are you wearing gloves? I'm not bleeding.”
“Germaphobic.”
He says it so matter of factly, Jinki crinkles his eyebrows in disbelief. “Really, is that why you live out here on your own?”
Taemin roughly finishes the last piece of binding on his side. “You can go sleep now.”
“Why do you live out here on your own?” Jinki never was one for pushing his luck, but his interest is caught.
Shaking his head, Taemin moves to turn away. Jinki reaches out to grab his arm. As if in slow motion, he sees the horror spread across his savior's face.
“Don't touch me!”
The shouted command stops Jinki's hand short, just hovering above the exposed skin between Taemin's pushed up sleeves and latex gloves. Their eyes lock. They hold each other's gazes for a split second, but it feels like minutes to Jinki. The terror in Taemin's eyes pulls at his insides, hazily familiar. A kinship he just can't place.
What is it about this guy that calls out to him like a siren song?
The cutting slam of the door to the cottage shutting wakes Jinki from his daze and alerts him to Taemin's exit.
“W-wait!” he calls out, and with a good effort, pulls himself from his seat to follow.
There's a blizzard and Taemin is so fragile … He can't just take off!
Jinki steps into a blank sheet of paper when he closes the cottage door behind him. It hurts his head to see a completely blank canvas in front of him. The blizzard had gained strength while he'd been inside.
Taemin is no where to be seen.
“Shit,” Jinki mutters under his breath, hobbling a few steps only to sink into knee deep snow. “Fuck!”
Whatever path Taemin made trudging through the depths of snow have already been covered, leaving no trail as to what direction he took off in. Feeling hopeless, Jinki resorts to shouting desperately against the howling wind. His hair whips against his face, but not nearly as painfully as the biting cold does.
His lips are blue only five minutes in. Jinki pushes his way through snow drifts, wandering further and further from his warm haven. He doesn't have any choice but to go blindly ahead, he has to find Taemin.
“Taemin!” he shouts, voice growing raspy and weak.
His body shivers uncontrollably. Dark spots begin to dance into his vision.
“No, no, this can't be happening .. “ Jinki curses his poor stamina as he feels the tell tale signs of fainting creeping into his system.
His legs, unable to hold him up anymore, crumple beneath him. A cushion of snow catches him from falling very fall. He continues to make an attempt to yell for his lost companion, but realizes his lips aren't even moving.
Numbness spreads across his body.
Just like now.
Jinki doesn't want to give in to his unwilling limbs, but then he doesn't really have a choice. He wants to beg himself to just get up and keep searching, but all of his adrenaline from climbing out of his car, after careening off the ice slicked road and ending half way in a snow drift, has dissipated.
All of his healing injuries from before are flaring up, his ribs ache and his ankle is swollen for sure. Thankfully, no matter how much of a rush he's in, Jinki “click's it.” His seat belt saved him from much worse injuries than the few cuts and bruises he received from the wreck.
He curls up on his side, relishing in the ease of strain on his lungs. It won't last for long, but he can enjoy it for now.
A faint whirling and humming wakes him up. Jinki cracks an eyelid opens, feel his stomach drop when he sees a familiar sea of white. He's still stuck out here, but at least the wind seems to have died down. He wiggles his fingers and toes. The snow is soft, almost warm …
Warm. Snow is not warm …
“Where am I?” he hears a foreign voice speak, stealing the words from his mouth. Or was that his own voice … ?
A blurry face pops into his image, a halo of light around the person's head. “Hey, you're alive!”
Jinki tries to pull his arm up to rub the sleep from his eyes, but he feels a tug that keeps his arms in place. “Who … What …”
“Take it easy,” the face finally comes into focus, Minho grinning down at him, “You should be use to waking up in the hospital by now.”
A deep groan reverberates from Jinki as he lets his eyes fall shut again. “How?” He should have recognized the sickening antiseptic smell.
“You were completely dehydrated, broke a couple of ribs, and have a high ankle sprain,” Minho says, ticking down the list mentally, ”Football player injuries, you should be proud.”
Jinki nods. He already knew all of that … How did he already know all of that? He blinks, tries to clear the fog from his mind.
“.. Thankfully some kid found you … “
“Did you see the kid?”
Minho shoots him a questioning look. “He said you were unconscious the whole time, does it matter?”
“Did you see him?” Jinki repeats, the cogs in his mind slowly falling back into the pace of work.
“No, all I know is his name was Tae … Taemin, yeah, something like that.”
The monitor to the side of the bed tracks the jump in Jinki's heart beat. His blood pressure begins to climb along with it. Minho's large eyes flick between the apparatus and his friend.
“Whoa, calm down,” he says, voice lathered with concern, “You can't go flipping out after just barely waking up.”
“He's okay then?”
Minho stares at Jinki as if he's grown a second head. “Who?”
“Taemin.”
“Is … Yeah, I guess he is.” Minho chuckles to himself, shakes his head. “Typical Jinki, worrying about a complete stranger before himself.”
Jinki settles back against the hospital pillow. If Taemin is okay, why is he still so worried ... ?
The blizzard.
“How did he get back?”
Minho looks up from his book. “What?”
“Taemin went out into the blizzard … “
“Jinki, you need sleep.”
But he can't sleep, not when his mind is going through everything that took place. No heavy jacket in a blizzard, living alone in the mountains, refusal to be touched, unaffected by cold ..
“When can I leave?” he asks, sitting up once again.
Minho doesn't look up this time. “Relax, Jinki. Your mom is on her way. Something about taking you home to watch over you … “ he trails off, flipping the page of his book.
Jinki groans once again. “Why did you call her?”
“If you keep groaning you're going to get another ulcer.”
Shutting his mouth, lips pressed tight together, Jinki grumbles inwardly. If he could just think straight, he'd know a way to get out of this, but as of now he has no choice but to give in and be appreciative of his mother's over bearing care.
Which is what happens when she shows up two hours later, shaking Jinki from a fitful nap.
“Come on, baby, you're coming home,” she orders, beginning to unhook iv's herself.
“Mom, you can't - “
“Oh, please, I probably know more than the nurses here!”
Jinki catches Minho shoot a wave before dodging out of the room. Great friend, to think Jinki was concerned about his safety.
He'd gone back to his parent's home, allowed his mother to dote over him during the day. But that night, after assuring his mom that he was hydrated and not going to die if he was in his room alone, Jinki got out his lap top and did some research. His research could also have been perceived as some major creeping, but he never did anything half way.
Not that it took him long to find a search result for “Taemin” that matched his. A missing person's report was one of the first links.
A picture of his savior alongside an article describing his sudden disappearance at the beginning of the winter. His family had no idea where he could be or who he would be with, but that he had antisocial tendencies and refused to let anyone touch him.
And that's when he set out in his mind to find Taemin again.
He'd never been one for lying, especially to his parents, so when he told them he needed to borrow the car and get some things from his dorm for the long visit, they didn't question him.
He'd driven too recklessly.
Jinki lies in the snow, tasting the fresh powder along with the metallic tang of blood. The cut on his head is still at it. Not that his mind can think much passed that, thought process slowing along with his heart beats.
Is he going to fade out in white again?
“I've never seen someone so accident prone in my life.”
Hearing that voice, Jinki feels revived. With unknown strength, he rolls onto his back to face the form.
“I know.”
Taemin's dark eyes bare down on him. “You know you're accident prone?”
“No. I know.” He locks eyes with the teen.
“How - What?”
Jinki reaches his hand out, taking hold of Taemin's gloved hand. “You're .. you're one of us.” He swallows thickly, fumbling to take the glove off.
All fear that had jumped into Taemin's appearance at the action eases. He watches Jinki's hand in a daze. “One of .. you?”
“It's okay,” Jinki reassures, finally casting Taemin's glove off. He looks up, numb fingers wrapped around Taemin's just as chilling to the touch hand.
Taemin gapes at him “B-but, I've never .. I haven't been able to touch a person since - “
“Whatever you have, it can't affect me.”
Eyes rapidly blink as Taemin tries to fight back tears. He smiles down at Jinki's hand. “I,” his voice cracks,” I thought I was ... alone.” He falls to his knees beside Jinki, tears beginning to fall freely.
“You aren't.”