#3 You Are Not Invited to the Other Side of Sanity 2/3
“Come on,” Taemin says. “Let’s go the arcade. Or the beach. I could totally take you to an amusement park.”
“Maybe later,” Jinki replies absentmindedly, scanning over the front cover of Taemin’s physics textbook before flipping it open. “Did you know that the rainbow you see is different from the rainbow the person standing next you sees?”
“That’s... interesting,” Taemin frowns. He spins around in his chair and watches Jinki become a blur with each turn.
How does it feel, he thinks, to be completely alone by your own will?
How can you do that yourself?
It must be depressing, Taemin concludes. He stops the chair suddenly and stands up. “You,” he demands. “We’re going to the amusement park. Let’s go.” He grabs Jinki’s wrist and pulls him up, ignoring Jinki’s yelp.
“Wait! I just started that chapter. Can’t we wait until I’m done? Please?”
“You can finish it when you come back,” Taemin says and pushes him into the hallway. “The book will not move.”
Jinki jumps on the balls of his feet and whines. “But I really want to read it! It was talking about how the light refracts off raindrops and the color spectrum is then-”
“Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care,” Taemin mumbles.
“Please! I won’t be able to concentrate without it, and you know. Taemin, please? Look, ow, my back just cracked. I’m experiencing withdrawal symptoms already.”
“That just means you’re getting old, hyung.”
“Please? I won’t read it, I swear I won’t. Can I just have it with me?” Jinki pleads, and before Taemin can say anything, an idea pops in his head.
“Fine. But hold on, let me get it. Stay here, okay?” Jinki nods weakly, and Taemin walks into his room and grabs a small duffel bag. Looking around, he searches for a placebo objects and stuffs an unused photoframe into the bag instead. Shrugging over his shoulder, he walks out and motions for Jinki. “Here, got it, okay? Now shut up and let’s go.”
Jinki is deathly terrified of roller coasters. This is the first thing Taemin learns when they get there. That, and Jinki is afraid of cotton candy.
“I’m gonna puke, holy shit,” Jinki gasps and runs for the nearest trash can. Taemin watches him with mild amusement as he tries to throw up but ends up coughing up saliva and mucus.
“That’s nasty, hyung,” Taemin grimaces and pats his back. “You’re not going to actually throw up. But wasn’t that awesome? Let’s go on it again!”
“No!” Jinki gags. “No, most definitely not. And let’s not. Let’s go on something much more milder. Like, like. Like that.” Taemin nearly keels over when he follows Jinki’s gaze and sees the merry-go-round.
“No, ew, who wants to go on the merry-go-round. You’re so vanilla, hyung.”
“Do not want to go on the roller coasters ever again,” Jinki whines.
Taemin laughs and links their arms together. “Fine, let’s, um. Watch the dolphin show then, or something.”
“I like dolphins,” Jinki agrees, and marches ahead.
Taemin has never seen Jinki laugh or smile more in his laugh than at the dolphin show. Jinki does smile all the time, but there’s something about him during the dolphin show that opens Taemin’s eyes. His smile is genuine - pure happiness. It’s not to appear nice or friendly, it’s not because smiling has just become a habit for Jinki. It’s because he’s enjoying the moment.
And then he notices it. The ends of Jinki’s fingers are light, almost like they’re transparent. It takes Taemin a moment to realize that they are transparent. The sunlight seeps through his skin like quicksand. Taemin tries to hide his smile, but it spreads over his face sticks like it’s there to stay, and he watches Jinki’s fingers slip almost into nothingness instead of paying attention to the rest of the show.
When it ends, Jinki is too amped up to notice that half of him is faded out now. Taemin just grins while Jinki flails his arms in the air, trying to describe one of the dolphin tricks. It should weird him out that he can actually see through all of Jinki, but it doesn’t, because it’s working it’s working it’s working- But not enough, not yet. Taemin looks around for something to act as a catalyst, something that’ll make Jinki smile like the show did.
His eyes settle on the merry-go-round. Well, Taemin thinks wryly, going on it once can’t be that bad. “Okay,” he announces, cutting through Jinki’s ongoing spiel, “I guess I’ll go on the merry-go-round with you.”
Jinki’s jaw drops. “Really?”
“Yup,” Taemin nods, steering Jinki in the right direction. “Just this once.”
The ride starts with a happy jingle of music that makes Taemin want to gag, but he pushes it out of his mind and focused on Jinki. Jinki, who’s laughing like he’s never been on a ride like this before. Jinki, who is fading faster and faster until Taemin can barely see his bottom half when the ride ends. All of a sudden, Taemin is happy and sad at the same time and he wants to grab Jinki and dance and tell him you’re free, finally free.
“That was fun,” Jinki grins, “I’m glad you dragged me here, Taemin. I haven’t even thought about-” He stops, looking scared. “-books,” he finishes quietly, like it’s a swear word.
“Hyung,” Taemin says, keeping his excitement in check, “Jinki-hyung, you don’t need to study anymore. You haven’t needed a book since we came here.”
Jinki frowns. “But I thought-”
“No,” Taemin laughs. He swings the bag from his shoulder and unzips it. “I didn’t bring the book.”
“Oh,” Jinki says faintly, eyes widening.
“Yeah,” Taemin whispers, “See, you’re going.”
The realization had made Jinki flicker back for a second, but now that it’s settling in, he’s going faster than ever. Jinki has just enough time to grin, touch his fingers to Taemin’s hand, and say, “Thank you.”
“Bye,” Taemin says softly as he disappears.
Jinki’s words and smile hang in the air for a long time when Taemin wakes up, and he runs through everything that happened before rolling over and screaming ecstatically into his pillow. His mostly-silent celebration is cut through by Kibum’s voice.
“Lee Taemin, the boy genius,” Kibum says sarcastically, “Who wouldn’t want their past to be snooped through by him?”
Taemin turns onto his back again before sitting up and facing Kibum, who’s sitting cross-legged on his desk. “Exactly,” he grins. “So why don’t you spare me the trouble and just tell me why you’re stuck here?”
“No thanks,” Kibum sniffs disdainfully.
“So why are you here?” Taemin asks. He changes his voice to mock Kibum’s. “I came to watch you fail because I’m an awesome person who doesn’t believe that people should be helped and what you did last time was totally a fluke. Only it somehow worked again, but next time it won’t work, because I said so.”
“Shut up,” Kibum snaps. “I really hate you, you know that?”
“Yup,” Taemin says, “I sorta caught on the few times you looked like you wanted to kill me.”
“Maybe next time I’ll carry through with it,” Kibum says. He stands up and goes to the window. “Anyway, I’m off.”
Taemin watches him open the window and swing a leg over the ledge before speaking. “Thanks, by the way.”
Kibum stops, confusion spreading over his features. “For what?”
“Not interfering this time,” Taemin says.
“Oh,” Kibum says gruffly. “Whatever.” He swings the other leg over and drops. Taemin considers looking out the window, to see if he really hit the bottom or if he simply dispersed into thin air. He sits there for a while, thinking about Kibum.
Taemin won’t lie - he’s a bit infatuated with Kibum. In a sense where he wants to reach out to Kibum, needs to reach out to Kibum, but he keeps being oppressed by Kibum’s sheer will. He tries to piece together the facts - Kibum can see any spirit. He can see real people, too. Taemin and spirits are the only ones who can see him. He has this instinct to “protect” the spirits from Taemin. Taemin pauses. How much of it is really instinct? Kibum keeps saying it’s his job. So unlike all the other spirits, he’s been assigned with a job to look over all the other spirits.
Taemin groans and flops back down onto his bed. It’s all too confusing. Kibum is too confusing. He frowns and looks over to his alarm clock. It stares back at him in bright red letters that hurts his eyes: 6:53AM, Sat. Sat. Saturday. No sch - oh. Taemin looks at his bookbag one more time before throwing the covers over himself and going back to sleep.
Taemin wakes up feeling pretty good. While dreaming all the time doesn’t really tire him out, it doesn’t compare with a few hours of real sleep. Which he has been getting less than his fair share of, he muses, but it can’t really be helped. When he swings his legs out of bed, his eyes catch the still open window, and he thinks of Kibum again.
But only for a moment, because it’s really too nice a day to be mulling over someone who’s such an enigma. Taemin grabs his phone and flips it open to text his friends. Wanna go catch a movie downtown?
He gets sures from Sungjong and Minjae when he comes back to his room after brushing his teeth, and starts searching for his wallet.
“Hey!” Sungjong says in greeting when Taemin gets to the front of the movie theatre. “Who else is coming?”
“Me,” Minjae says, coming up behind Taemin. He lightly punches Taemin. “What’s up? Shouldn’t you be spending your time studying to make up for all the times you fell asleep in class?”
“Nah,” Taemin replies, “I’m a genius. No worries.” Lee Taemin, the boy genius. He shakes his head. Screw Kibum. “Let’s go; what do you wanna watch?”
Sungjong and Minjae promptly fall into an argument over chick flicks and horror movies. Taemin tells them that action is better than both genres, and buys tickets for the new dance movie before either of them can protest.
After the movie, the argument turns into one on who the best dancer was. Taemin zones out as they walk down the street to grab something to drink. His gaze passes over the signs and shops on the other side of the road, not really paying attention to what’s on his side of the road. That’s why he almost slams into a guy, catching movement in his peripheral vision and stopping suddenly.
“Crap, sorry,” Taemin apologizes. “I didn’t-”
“Taemin,” Minjae interrupts, giving him a weird look, “Why’d you stop? And who are you talking to?”
Taemin’s heart sinks. He glances over, and surely enough, the boy he almost crashed into isn’t even paying him any attention. He’s just wandering - wandering this whole area, Taemin notices. He turns back to Minjae and shrugs. “I was spacing off and I thought I was gonna run into someone. My bad.”
“You’re always pulling weird shit,” Sungjong teases, reaching out to pull on Taemin’s arm. “We’re used to it. C’mon, let’s not stand here for forever.”
Taemin sticks out his tongue at Sungjong but follows, casting a last glance at the nameless boy and knowing deep down that he’s going to come back here to try to figure things out.
First things first, Taemin decides after dinner, going up to his room and idling over his homework. He’ll just have to try concentrating on the image of the boy and dream. The fact that he didn’t even manage to see the boy’s face, coupled with the fact that it didn’t work with Jinki when he just tried to dream without reading, makes him doubtful. But he might as well give it a shot.
It doesn’t work, unsurprisingly. Not that Taemin didn’t dream, but the dream didn’t even have the boy in it. It had Kibum.
No, Taemin realizes, squinting to recall details before the dream slips through the cracks in his mind and into a black hole somewhere. I was Kibum. I was... He tries to remember more. ...running. And like it happened in real life, Taemin’s leg muscles twitch, as if from overuse. He stays in bed a few more minutes, wondering. Running from what?
Taemin lies in his bed and stares at the clock. It’s a Sunday, but he doesn’t want to go back to sleep. He gets up and goes to brush his teeth and wash his face. Half way through, he ends up staring at mirror, looking at his face from different angles for any traces of Kibum. Maybe he’s still there, latched onto his skin like a shadow ripping him apart inside out.
Taesun comes into the bathroom and gives him an odd look. “You’re awake already. I’m proud of you.”
“Whatever.”
“Anyways, get ready. We’re going to the bookstore downtown.”
Taemin mumbles something incoherent and stumbles out of the bathroom. His brother laughs at him and Taemin has half a mind to chuck something at him, but he’s already moving down the hallway, leaving Taemin alone.
Out in the middle of the street, he shakes himself and ignores the odd look from his brother. It’s burning outside and he can’t think properly, nonetheless pay attention to anyone and consider the rules of etiquette in public. He’s about to point this out to his brother when he sees someone brush past him, and if it anyone but Taemin, he would’ve believed it was a simple touch of shoulders, but no, he definitely phased through his arm. He pauses and turns around to see a tall boy in a simple t-shirt and jeans, pacing the sidewalk in front of the crosswalk. He’s lean and has the build of a model, but wear glasses and seems like the studious, athletic type.
“Taemin?” his brother asks. “What are you staring at?”
“What?” Taemin blinks. “Oh, um, nothing. Nothing much. So, uh. There’s this book I’ve been wanting to buy.”
“But I just bought my stuff,” Taesun groans and holds up his bag for Taemin to see.
“You can head home first, I have my own money, anyways. And I have a bus pass, too.”
“Mom might kill me,” he frowns, but shrugs. “Whatever, your fault, not mine. Call me if anything happens, okay?” He pokes Taemin in the cheek and smiles. “And pay attention. You’re kind of 4-D.”
Taemin frowns, flushes red and rubs at his cheek. “I’m not 4-D,” he mumbles as his brother walks away. He turns away to look at the supposed spirit. “I just see things you don’t,” he sighs. The street is empty for the most part, and there’s a bench right across from him, so he sits down and watches the other boy walk back and forth, back and forth.
“Is this really what you do with your free time?” Taemin jumps to see Kibum sitting beside him. “What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Kibum laughs at his own joke.
“That was real funny. A plus, really.”
“You say that like you’re any better.”
“Why are you here?” Taemin sighs. “I’m doing important things, as you can see. If you’re going to complain to me about how I can’t do shit and clearly nothing will ever go the way I want to, and this soul will be here forever, then you can just suck it.”
“Harsh,” Kibum frowns. “I’ve given up on convincing you, for the most part. Doesn’t mean I approve of what you’re doing. And I won’t help you, either. I know too many kids who’ve gotten full of themselves and failed. Too many kids I’ve had to put in place.”
Taemin pauses. “Put in place?”
Kibum sighs and leans back against the bench. “Those kids - crazy, really, they were. One of them went insane. He couldn’t tell what was reality and what wasn’t. He would think he was in real life when he was in a dream, and couldn’t understand why there wasn’t anyone there. I tried to help him, I really did, but he just didn’t understand. And another girl fell in love with a spirit. That was the line, I had no choice at that point.”
“That’s... harsh,” Taemin frowns. “Would you do that to me?”
Kibum ignores him. “Yeah, those kids went too far.” He kicks his legs for a bit and faces Taemin. “Wanna know a secret?”
Taemin raises an eyebrow and nods. Kibum grins. He leans forward, forward, until his lips are against Taemin’s ear, and he can see Kibum smirk from the side of his vision.
“I would,” he whispers.
Before Taemin can react, Kibum fades before his own eyes, and Taemin can remember his grin clearly, still there in his head, like a Cheshire cat gleaming down on him from every corner.
This, Taemin scowls, is pretty fucking frustrating. He watches the boy - the boy, he hasn’t even figured out his name yet - turn for the umpteenth time and make his way through the crowd of people. Taemin closes his eyes before the boy can walk back, because he think he’ll scream if he sees him do it again. He’s tried everything from nodding off in a cafe across the street to going up to the boy and talking straight to his face. With no results, of course. He opens his eyes and wearily tracks the spirit with his eyes.
And loses him when a crowd of cameramen and assistants pass by. Great, just great. They’re filming something or other on the street today, and he doesn’t want to be the weirdass kid in the background, sitting on the bench doing nothing except flicking his eyes back and forth. Taemin’s about to get up and leave when he notices that the boy isn’t pacing like he usually is.
Taemin stops and stares as the boy seems to notice the filming crew and trails after them, opening his mouth as if to say something. The boy follows them till the end of the block, and it seems like he can go no further. When he turns back, he’s frowning. Taemin waits until the boy goes back to his usual spot before leaving.
Weird, Taemin thinks on the bus, but different. So he can definitely work with this. They don’t have a camcorder at home, but Taesun has one of those fancy digital cameras that he uses when they’re out on a family trip. That’ll have to do - he’ll just ask to borrow it for a school project.
Getting a camera worked out as easily as planned, but Taemin’s nervous as he approaches the place where the boy always walks. What if a digital camera doesn’t work; what is he even going to do if it does work?
It does work, because the boy pauses when he sees Taemin and comes over. Taemin watches his lips move to soundless words and replies with a quiet hello, knowing that the boy can’t hear him, knowing that there’s little chance of the boy even seeing him. He could see the camera, but does he see the person, or is it just a blank face?
Well, since he’s come all the way here, he might as well do something with the camera. Taemin turns it on and fiddles with the settings, turning the flash off and setting it to portrait. Most likely, the camera won’t even capture the boy. Taemin lifts the camera to his face and looks at the boy, who shows up on the screen, and presses the button. Snap.
The boy shows up, alright, though Taemin’s pretty sure that he’s the only one who can see it. To be sure, he asks a woman around his mom’s age to take a picture of him on the street. He smiles and says it’s for a school project, and it works like a charm. He walks a little ways off and faces the camera, pasting a smile onto his face. Taemin keeps smiling as his eyes follow the boy, who’s approaching the woman. At that distance, the boy should be taking up the whole screen. Taemin moves as soon as he sees the shutter click, taking back the camera with a bow and a thank you. He checks the picture with the lady, and sure enough, the boy fills up the screen. Only he’s the only one who can see it.
Nothing new there.
Taemin sits on the bench like he always does and takes a couple more pictures before getting up to look for a place to print them, finding a photo shop a few blocks away. They tell him it’ll only take an hour, so he decides to stay downtown, going into the nearest cafe and ordering a soda.
“Isn’t that wonderful.” Kibum gives him a shit-eating grin as he steals a sip of Taemin’s orange soda. “You’ve found yourself a camwhore spirit. That’s interesting, isn’t it?”
“And useless,” Taemin sighs and swipes his soda back. Kibum splutters at the sudden loss and gags. Taemin laughs. “That was the most human I’ve ever seen you act.”
“It’s called a reflex,” Kibum says sourly and tilts his body away from Taemin. Hes faces the window and watches Minho pace back and forth. His gaze softens. “Have you thought of any possible methods?”
“I can’t find out what’s wrong with him, “ Taemin frowns. “He’s just naturally attracted to cameras. It’s frustrating.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Kibum shrugs and leans back in his chair. He spends his time between making shapes in the air with his clouds of smoke and inspecting Taemin’s face. It bothers Taemin, to say the least, and he finally puts his soda down ten minutes later and looks at Kibum.
“You’re the guardian of all the spirits, in a way, that’s what it seems like, that is, so why can’t you just talk to him?”
“Protocol,” Kibum answers simply and brushes a piece of lint off of his shoulder. “Besides, I don’t do that kind of stuff. And technically, neither should you. But I suppose as long as I’m here, I get to stop you from doing stupid shit before it’s too late.”
“Before it’s too late?” Taemin perks up. “Do you know what’s that’s like? Is that why you’re the guardian?”
“No,” Kibum snaps, and his glare is so sharp and cold that Taemin doesn’t dare pursue the subject any further.
Another ten minutes pass and Kibum suddenly waves the little smoke clouds out of his face. “Okay, this is really, really boring. I am more than positive that an hour has passed.”
Taemin takes out his cellphone and looks at the time. “Oh, it has been.” He gets up and tosses his plastic soda cup and makes his way to photo shop, getting the pictures. he sits down on the bench in front of the bus stop and opens the packet. It’s the same as before - the boy is clearly there, wandering around with an expressionless face.
“I forget the point of this,” Kibum drawls on sarcastically.
Taemin stifles the urge to crumple up the paper and answers. “Just to make sure of some stuff. Only I can see him, where ever, whenever.” He leans over and drops his head down, sighing. “I don’t know what to do with this. He likes cameras. That’s wonderful.”
“ Why don’t you just go home and call it a day? You can’t save everyone, and quite frankly, no one is expecting you to. Nobody really wants you to, either.”
“Correction,” Taemin rolls his eyes. “You don’t want me to.” He ignores Kibum’s pointed gaze and sighs. “I’ll leave, but I’m definitely coming back. I can promise you that.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Kibum mocks, but disappears into thin air. Even though he’s physically gone, Taemin still hears him. “Just remember that I’m watching everything you do, and I can get rid of you whenever I like.”
“Scheming bastard,” Taemin mumbles under his breath. He hasn’t realized how late it is until his cellphone rings with his brother’s number. He hangs up as quickly as possible makes his way to the bus stop. The time reads quarter to eleven, and Taemin can feel himself slumping over with exhaustion. He climbs onto the bus and stumbles into one of the seats, resting his head on the window and closing his eyes. It takes a full hour to reach the nearest stop to his home, so he rewards himself with a small nap.
Taemin wakes up, feeling stiff from sleeping in the bus seat - except he’s sitting on the bench he always occupies when he’s watching the boy. The realization surges through his body like adrenaline and he’s wide awake now, looking around to see if the boy is here, if he can finally talk to him.
The boy is there alright. He’s walking his usual route, approaching the bench, so Taemin stands to see if he notices him. When the boy looks over and a confused expression spreads over his features, Taemin feels so damn excited that he has half a mind to tackle the boy and chant you can see me I can talk to you finally finally finally. Instead, he waits for the boy to speak.
“I’ve never seen someone here who didn’t have a camera or something,” he says, curious. “Who are you?”
“That should be my question,” Taemin counters. “But for the record, I’m Taemin.”
The boy - hopefully, soon to be named - looks a bit taken aback. “I’m Minho.”
“Minho, huh?” Taemin mentally dances, but plows on, not knowing when he’ll have to wake up. “What are you doing here?”
Minho’s still looking at him strangely, though Taemin guesses that that’s to be expected if someone appears out of nowhere and asks you questions. “I think,” Minho says thoughtfully, “that I’m looking for someone.”
Taemin thinks of Minho when he’s awake, oblivious except when he sees a camera. “A photographer? Cameraperson?”
Minho looks surprised. “Maybe. I don’t remember his name, but I didn’t know much about him.”
Taemin frowns. “You don’t? Why are you looking for someone you don’t know?”
“He had an offer for me,” Minho says, sort of crestfallen. “But I don’t remember what it was.”
Taemin sits back down, feeling the familiar rush of sympathy and frustration come back. “It must’ve been important,” he says quietly, “If you’ve been looking for him for so long.”
“Yeah,” Minho agrees ruefully. “I think it’d be helpful if I could at least remember what his name was - it was on the card he gave to me.”
“He gave you a card?” Minho nods. “Well, that’s a start,” Taemin grins. “I’ll help you find him, alright?”
“Um, thanks, but you really don’t-”
“I’ll help,” Taemin repeats, adamant. Then there’s this sudden jolt, like someone just pushed him, and Taemin sighs inwardly. “Later!”
He wakes up to see the bus driver looking down at him and tapping his foot impatiently. “You fell asleep,” he says. “This is your stop, right?”
Taemin groans and looks out the window and yes - that is his house down the road. “Sorry,” he mumbles and stands up, stumbling out of the bus. By the time he’s by his mailbox, he jumps up and down on the balls of his feet in glee. He found it, he found it, he found it. He can imagine Kibum’s face, leering down at him, and before he knows it, he actually is, standing on his porch with his arms crossed, looking very much displeased.
“Hello,” Taemin grins, and Kibum snorts stepping aside as Taemin walks over to him and opens the front door.
“It’s one,” is all he says.
“Is it? I must’ve lost track of time talking to Minho,” Taemin challenges and he doesn’t miss the sudden tapping of Kibum’s finger as he looks more and more irritated.
“Had fun, did you?” Kibum follows Taemin behind into his room and stands at the door. “Did he cry his heart out while you listened to his problems and held his hand?”
Taemin bristles at the comment and turns around to face him. “He didn’t, and you have no place to talk, you fucking prick. You have the power to save those people but you’re just sitting here laughing your ass off at them and trying to stop them. What kind of person does that make you?”
Kibum growls and shoves Taemin harshly. His back hits the wall and he groans as Kibum jabs his finger into Taemin’s chest. “Don’t you fucking dare think that what you’re doing puts you up on some high pedestal, ‘cause you know what? You’re going to crash. Crash and fucking burn, and then you’ll know exactly what the fuck you’ve been doing. You’ll turn into one of them, and I won’t be there to help your sorry ass. You’ll turn into me and then you’ll regret it.”
His face is mere centimeters away from Taemin’s face, red and furious as the realization of what he said dawns on him. He steps away from Taemin and glares at him, chest heaving up and down with the adrenaline rush.
Taemin isn’t sure of what he should say, or if he should say anything. Kibum’s gone before he makes a decision.
You’ll turn into me and then you’ll regret it. Taemin frowns up at the ceiling as he plays the words back and forth in his head. His sarcastic side already has a response to it - you’re right, who would want that - but the rest of his brain isn’t going to be happy with just that. Turn into one of them; that one’s obvious enough. One of the kids who could see spirits and went crazy over it. But turn into Kibum? Why? No reason, unless he’s one of them. Which makes sense, Taemin guesses, maybe he couldn’t help them and he’s bitter about it. But why is he the only one stuck here? What happened to all the other kids who went insane?
That’s not all there is, Taemin concludes resignedly. So he’ll just have to keep thinking, thinking till all the loose ends connect or he has to write a will telling Taesun to enroll him in an asylum. Taemin makes a mental note to tell Kibum the next time he shows up that he’s probably the one driving everyone crazy wondering about who the fuck he is and what he’s doing here.
With a sigh, Taemin shifts his weight onto one elbow and snags the small pile of photos on the edge of his desk, rifling through them and seeing Minho where nobody else will ever see him. Except Kibum. Stupid, meddling Kibum who will step into his affairs but not the affairs of the people - spirits - who matter. Stupid fucking Kibum, whose resolute opposition is planting seeds of uncertainty in Taemin’s mind right now, even though he can’t see what’s so unbelievably bad about helping someone in need. Okay, so maybe he could go crazy, but that has to be years down the line, doesn’t it? He could stop before then. Depending on when it happens, I could go insane, Taemin thinks. I wonder if I’m insane for thinking that, though. It’s obvious that he doesn’t know enough, won’t be able to know enough unless he angers Kibum into telling him without meaning to. Could that be why, then? That Kibum’s against him for a reason that he doesn’t know, but Kibum does? If that’s the truth, it won’t make Taemin any less pissed off.
His rifling has landed him back on the first picture, so Taemin stares hard at Minho and asks him silently, there can’t be anything wrong with helping you, can there?
There’s obviously no response, and Taemin places the photos back on his desk, checking his clock and deciding to go to sleep, since tomorrow’s a school day.
Taemin comes to feeling as stiff as the first time, thinking that he should work on waking up in dreams where he wants to. Minho is still pacing and hasn’t noticed him yet. Watching him, Taemin can’t think of anything more sad than what he’s doing, what Jonghyun and Jinki were doing. An addiction to something you couldn’t do right the first time, an addiction that you couldn’t overdose and die from, because it’s one that starts when you die and goes on forever. Unless Taemin can do something - so he’ll try to. Kibum can get as irritated as he wants, Taemin decides. It won’t stop me.
“Hey!” Taemin calls out. “Have you remembered anything else?”
Minho stops in place and looks back, surprise etched into his face. “You’re back.”
Taemin shrugs. “Well, I said I would be. So, how’s the memory thing going?”
“Not well,” Minho admits, “I couldn’t think of anything after you left.”
Taemin thinks back. “You said that the guy offered you something, right? You probably said no, or you wouldn’t be here.” He looks at Minho. “Why’d you say no?”
“I said no because...” Minho trails off, unable to answer.
“School,” Taemin suggests, “Against your better judgement? Friends, parents, siblings-”
“Parents,” Minho interrupts slowly. “I’m sure it had something to do with my parents.”
“Parents,” Taemin repeats. “Can you remember why, somehow? It had to have been a big thing, to be stuck here forever.”
“I guess so,” Minho sighs and sits down on the bench Taemin had been occupying earlier. “They were disappointed, I guess. I can’t think of any other reason. I have no idea why, though.”
“Oh,” Taemin says, trying to get Minho’s memory going, “Cameras. You’re a bit attracted to them. Any idea why?”
“Cameras?” Minho asks. “No idea. That doesn’t make much sense. Cameras. What would a parent’s disappointment have to do with a camera?”
Taemin shrugs, and he stretches out on the bench, running a hand through his hair. He’s very handsome - Taemin has no idea why he hasn’t noticed before. Minho has big doe-like eyes and long, slender legs. He’s built, muscles in all the right places without overdoing it, and his hair falls perfectly into place without him even noticing. He looks like a model, one that he’d find on TV or in magazines or-
Oh.
“Have you ever considered modeling?” Taemin asks.
Minho’s silent for a moment, and in that moment, Taemin doesn’t dare move or breathe, because this is it, he knows it.
“I - yeah,” he whispers as he leans forward, curling into himself. Minho buries his face into his hands and sighs deeply. “I never really, y’know, wanted to go to college like the rest of the my friends. I never liked to studying or anything, I just did it because that’s what was expected of me.”
“You wanted to model, huh?” Taemin says softly, patting Minho’s shoulder awkwardly.
Minho nods weakly and removes his hands and continues looking at the ground. “My parents didn’t want that. They wouldn’t have. Maybe. I never asked. I said no, anyways.”
“You got an offer?” Taemin asks, trying to hid the surprisement in his voice.
Minho nods and laughs weakly. “This is weird. I spent years wandering this street and not remember anything, but at the mention of model, everything comes flooding back to me. But yeah, my parents would have never approved of it. And I don’t know - they’re my parents. I feel like I have to listen to them. Get their approval, you know? They brought me up.”
“What about you?” Taemin can’t help but ask. “That’s great and all, but shouldn’t they listen to you sometimes? You are their son.”
Minho shrugs. “I just do whatever I can to satisfy them. And I know for sure they wanted me to go to college.”
“So is that your biggest regret? Not being able to do what you wanted to do?”
“Maybe not that exactly, but the experience, yeah, definitely.” He sighs again and picks up his head. “I remember just sitting there, in my room, wondering how things would have been different. Would I have continued, become famous? Or would I have not, and just stopped and went back to school. That feeling, I wanted to feel it once.”
“I think,” Taemin says, squatting so that he’s looking up at Minho with an encouraging smile, “that that could definitely be arranged somehow.”
Minho raises his eyebrows. “How?”
“Don’t know,” Taemin admits. “But we’ll definitely figure something out. Alright?”
A corner of Minho’s mouth quirks up and he nods. “Y’know, you’re really weird. Telling me it’ll work out but not knowing how it will.”
“I get that a lot,” Taemin says ruefully. “The weird part, I mean.”
“I can see why,” Minho says solemnly.
Taemin frowns and punches Minho’s leg, earning a small laugh. It’s the first laugh Taemin gets out of him, and it’s all that takes to get rid of any bit of uncertainty that Taemin has about helping Minho. Helping anyone else he’ll come across later on. Then his alarm sounds like it always does and Taemin’s gone, almost before he can say bye.
A pleasant surprise in the form of Kibum sitting on his desk is what Taemin wakes up to, and the first thing that Taemin tells him is, “You’re wrong. Or okay, maybe you’re right, maybe I’ll go fucking insane one day like everyone else did, you included, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to do all I can before that day comes.”
“You’re pretty damn stupid,” Kibum sneers, “But I guess I should commend you for having some balls. Though whatever you do, can’t say I didn’t warn you. Just know that I’m a thousand percent against everything.”
“Don’t you have some type of better warning system?” Taemin taunts. “I mean, this is only the fifteenth hundred time you’ve shown up and acted all high and mighty, telling me that I don’t know what I’m doing but not telling me what I should know to understand what I’m doing.”
Kibum’s eyes flash. “You don’t need to know anything.”
“Oh yeah, that’s totally a satisfactory answer after all that’s happened,” Taemin says. “If this talk’s gonna go the same way that our other ones did, I think it’s about time that you hit me and disappeared so I don’t have to see your face anymore.”
“It wouldn’t happen if you didn’t try to get under my skin all the time,” Kibum says with a glare.
“It wouldn’t happen if you just told me things straight out instead of messing up and blaming it on me,” Taemin retorts.
Kibum scoffs. “Telling you what I know about all these dead people wouldn’t prove to do anything, would it? After all, the hardest part is figuring out how to fix their problem. Finding the problem itself is as easy as fuck.”
It’s like everything else has been confirmed, even though Kibum could’ve easily gleaned this information from watching Taemin and all those other kids trying to work out what to do. There’s this feeling of truth to it, like Kibum’s been there, done that. He’s one of them, for sure. “You know, don’t you? What it feels like to try to help them, what it feels like when you try for the umpteenth time and fail. Because you were - could still be - one of us. One of the kids like me.”
The way Kibum’s face clamps down on itself tells Taemin that he’s hit it, but, “No,” Kibum says quietly, “I’d never be one of you. Never follow along and fail like everyone else did.” He pitches his voice to mock Taemin - “Oh, I’ll help them. I can do it.” - and switches back, staring him down. “And what happens when you can’t?”
Taemin opens his mouth to answer, but he’s got nothing - nothing except his stubbornness, anyway. “I can,” he tells Kibum. “I can help them. This isn’t really about me getting on my high horse or anything, you need to understand that. It’s just that I’m making this up as I go along, because I can’t really do anything else. So all I can do is believe that I can help, and then do my best to make it happen. And you’re not going to tell me that I can do something else, that I can just ignore everything I see everyday and let them stay there forever. They’ve been there long enough already.”
Kibum doesn’t answer him right away; he sort of studies Taemin with an exasperated look that’s bordering on some other emotion. Grudging acceptance, maybe, if Taemin wanted to be optimistic about it. But more importantly, the silence allows Taemin to confirm something else.
“You’ve been here long enough already. How many kids have you seen try and fail, if you’re so damn pessimistic about the whole thing? How long do you have to stay here? You’re like us, because you said I’d end up like you, but you’re like them, too, even though you told me you weren’t.” Taemin says this all in one breath, not daring to stop because Kibum might stop him. Kibum doesn’t, though. He’s got his mouth set into a grim line, like he’s waiting for Taemin to finish, waiting because even if he blows up right now, it’s too late, Taemin’s already figured it out. “Do you regret helping them? Is that why you’re still here?”
“Yes,” Kibum says, standing up, “and no.” He doesn’t specify which answers go with which questions, but Taemin’s got a pretty good idea after Kibum flashes a leering smile at him. “And here I thought the great detective finally got to the bottom of the deep mystery known as Kibum.”
Taemin’s frustrated; it’s like he’s seen the answer and it’s twisted out of his grasp again. “Then what-”
But he doesn’t finish, because Kibum’s not there anymore. Taemin sits on his bed in a trance, trying to digest everything that’s happened since he woke up. Which was what - ten minutes ago? Only? It seems impossible.
A slap from his brother’s towel brings Taemin out of it, but the worried look Taesun throws at him when he doesn’t retaliate tells Taemin that he is definitely not going to be anywhere near normal for the rest of the day. Better start searching up those local loony bins, Taemin thinks wryly.
“Well aren’t you a happy camper?” Minjae sighs and pats the back of Taemin’s head, which is currently face down in his textbook.
“Absolutely giddy,” Taemin confirms.
“Ready for our Econ test next period?” Yeonhee smiles and opens her textbook.
“Am I? Isn’t that what textbook this is?” He closes the book and looks at the cover. “Nope, that’s Chemistry.” The others laugh at him, and he sighs dramatically. “I don’t even know what we’re learning.”
“Neither do I, high five!” Sungjong cheers and they fist bump each other.
“Oh, hey, look,” Minjae says suddenly in a hushed tone. “Isn’t that the new girl?” Everyone follows his line of sight where someone sits at a table across the room from them. Her uniform is hitched higher than most of the other girls, and her hair falls down her back in smooth curls.
“Dude,” Sungjong gapes. “She’s so banging.”
“I know right,” Minjae replies. “I would so tap that. She looks like a model.”
Yeonhee and Taemin exchange amused looks and reach for Minjae’s Econ textbook. They’re half way through the chapter when Minjae taps him on the back.
“Sungjong went to say hi, and to invite her out today.”
“But it’s Tuesday.”
“And? We had two tests, and have like, three more. We’ll have no homework. Shouldn’t, at least. Our history teacher is just a bitch. But anyways, both of you, come along! It’ll be less awkward for all of us. If worst comes to worst, you can just do whatever weird things you do, and we’ll laugh at you.”
“Thanks,” Taemin says dryly. “I feel loved.”
“We love your weird, okay? Oh - I got a text,” he pulls out his cellphone and flips open the screen. He face breaks out into a grin. “She said yes! Okay, Tonight at six. The cafe across from the photo store. That really creepy one, next to the computer store.”
Taemin laughs. “Creepy photo store, got it. I can probably finish my homework by five, since it takes an hour by bus to get there.”
“Sweet,” Minjae smiles.
Taemin enters the bus and sets his phone alarm an hour later - just in case. He falls asleep five minutes into the ride and wakes up on the bench in front of the photo shop. Minho’s looking at his reflection in the window, setting his hair and fixing the collar of shirt. He sees Taemin the window and turns around, giving him a small smile. “You’re here.”
“Yeah,” Taemin smiles back. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I was hoping something would just kinda pop into my head, y’know? But, I think I know what you’re looking for. That I’m pretty sure of, at least. I don’t know, I just figured I should let you know that.”
Minho chuckles. “Okay, that makes sense, I guess. Wanna fill me in?”
Taemin laughs awkwardly. “It sounds really awkward, I know, but I was thinking that it was like what you said before - that experience. Maybe, if you got that experience, it might help?”
“The experience of being a model?” Minho frowns. “How would that work out?”
“I have no idea,” Taemin sighs. “I just, it seems like it would work, doesn’t it? I guess you could like, pose for a bit. I don’t really know. Stare in the mirror, pretend you’re about to go on a runway.”
“I hate mirrors,” Minho sighs. “At least, now I do. Do you know what it’s like to have nothing but yourself and your reflection in the mirror for forever? It feels terrible. You get sick of your own self.”
“Oh,” Taemin says quietly. “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess.”
“I guess I could pose though, if it’s you that’s watching.”
“Me?” Taemin points at himself, surprised by the suggestion. “I don’t know what difference that would make, but okay. I guess you could, if you wanted to.”
“Well,” Minho says, contemplatively, “an audience is an audience, no matter who or what, right? You should count for something.”
“Alright,” Taemin nods. “So, uh. Pose. Do model-y things.”
Minho stands there awkwardly for a few moments before putting a hands on his hips. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he confesses. “And I feel like an idiot.”
“Do anything! Anything is posing, right?” Taemin says. “Be dramatic. You’re the star of a movie!” He gets onto his knees and spreads his arms out. “You are the villain in a soap opera!” Taemin stands up and covers his eyes with his hand. “You are - what are you laughing at?”
“You look really funny,” he says in between laughs, covering his mouth with his hand. “But in a good way, kind of. It looks like a lot of fun.”
“So join in,” Taemin grins. “C’mon, I don’t want to act stupid by myself.”
Minho looks doubtful but doesn’t resist when Taemin drags him into the middle of the sidewalk and starts calling out ridiculous scenarios that they should pose for, like you just got out of the pool, slick your hair back and someone just dissed you, what do you do and you’re Kim Yuna doing a triple axle spin thing.
Minho’s getting a little more into it, a little less stiff, and when Taemin finally runs out of things to say, he collapses onto the concrete, laughing until Taemin’s wondering if he’s ever going to stop.
“You okay?” Taemin crouches down and pokes Minho in the side.
“Yeah,” Minho says, pushing his bangs out of his face. “Better than I’ve been in a while, I think.”
“That’s good,” Taemin says, looking a bit crestfallen, “But not good enough.”
Minho looks at him questioningly.
“Didn’t work,” Taemin explains, frowning.
“Well,” Minho says, “That’s alright. I mean, you can’t expect to get it on the first try, right?”
“I guess,” Taemin agrees reluctantly. “But wait, why are you the one cheering me up?”
“‘Cause you’re the one who got all down,” Minho accuses jokingly, pointing at Taemin.
Taemin sticks out his tongue and bats Minho’s hand away. Then he feels a buzz come from his pocket and waves a hasty goodbye.
previous part | next part
“Maybe later,” Jinki replies absentmindedly, scanning over the front cover of Taemin’s physics textbook before flipping it open. “Did you know that the rainbow you see is different from the rainbow the person standing next you sees?”
“That’s... interesting,” Taemin frowns. He spins around in his chair and watches Jinki become a blur with each turn.
How does it feel, he thinks, to be completely alone by your own will?
How can you do that yourself?
It must be depressing, Taemin concludes. He stops the chair suddenly and stands up. “You,” he demands. “We’re going to the amusement park. Let’s go.” He grabs Jinki’s wrist and pulls him up, ignoring Jinki’s yelp.
“Wait! I just started that chapter. Can’t we wait until I’m done? Please?”
“You can finish it when you come back,” Taemin says and pushes him into the hallway. “The book will not move.”
Jinki jumps on the balls of his feet and whines. “But I really want to read it! It was talking about how the light refracts off raindrops and the color spectrum is then-”
“Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care,” Taemin mumbles.
“Please! I won’t be able to concentrate without it, and you know. Taemin, please? Look, ow, my back just cracked. I’m experiencing withdrawal symptoms already.”
“That just means you’re getting old, hyung.”
“Please? I won’t read it, I swear I won’t. Can I just have it with me?” Jinki pleads, and before Taemin can say anything, an idea pops in his head.
“Fine. But hold on, let me get it. Stay here, okay?” Jinki nods weakly, and Taemin walks into his room and grabs a small duffel bag. Looking around, he searches for a placebo objects and stuffs an unused photoframe into the bag instead. Shrugging over his shoulder, he walks out and motions for Jinki. “Here, got it, okay? Now shut up and let’s go.”
Jinki is deathly terrified of roller coasters. This is the first thing Taemin learns when they get there. That, and Jinki is afraid of cotton candy.
“I’m gonna puke, holy shit,” Jinki gasps and runs for the nearest trash can. Taemin watches him with mild amusement as he tries to throw up but ends up coughing up saliva and mucus.
“That’s nasty, hyung,” Taemin grimaces and pats his back. “You’re not going to actually throw up. But wasn’t that awesome? Let’s go on it again!”
“No!” Jinki gags. “No, most definitely not. And let’s not. Let’s go on something much more milder. Like, like. Like that.” Taemin nearly keels over when he follows Jinki’s gaze and sees the merry-go-round.
“No, ew, who wants to go on the merry-go-round. You’re so vanilla, hyung.”
“Do not want to go on the roller coasters ever again,” Jinki whines.
Taemin laughs and links their arms together. “Fine, let’s, um. Watch the dolphin show then, or something.”
“I like dolphins,” Jinki agrees, and marches ahead.
Taemin has never seen Jinki laugh or smile more in his laugh than at the dolphin show. Jinki does smile all the time, but there’s something about him during the dolphin show that opens Taemin’s eyes. His smile is genuine - pure happiness. It’s not to appear nice or friendly, it’s not because smiling has just become a habit for Jinki. It’s because he’s enjoying the moment.
And then he notices it. The ends of Jinki’s fingers are light, almost like they’re transparent. It takes Taemin a moment to realize that they are transparent. The sunlight seeps through his skin like quicksand. Taemin tries to hide his smile, but it spreads over his face sticks like it’s there to stay, and he watches Jinki’s fingers slip almost into nothingness instead of paying attention to the rest of the show.
When it ends, Jinki is too amped up to notice that half of him is faded out now. Taemin just grins while Jinki flails his arms in the air, trying to describe one of the dolphin tricks. It should weird him out that he can actually see through all of Jinki, but it doesn’t, because it’s working it’s working it’s working- But not enough, not yet. Taemin looks around for something to act as a catalyst, something that’ll make Jinki smile like the show did.
His eyes settle on the merry-go-round. Well, Taemin thinks wryly, going on it once can’t be that bad. “Okay,” he announces, cutting through Jinki’s ongoing spiel, “I guess I’ll go on the merry-go-round with you.”
Jinki’s jaw drops. “Really?”
“Yup,” Taemin nods, steering Jinki in the right direction. “Just this once.”
The ride starts with a happy jingle of music that makes Taemin want to gag, but he pushes it out of his mind and focused on Jinki. Jinki, who’s laughing like he’s never been on a ride like this before. Jinki, who is fading faster and faster until Taemin can barely see his bottom half when the ride ends. All of a sudden, Taemin is happy and sad at the same time and he wants to grab Jinki and dance and tell him you’re free, finally free.
“That was fun,” Jinki grins, “I’m glad you dragged me here, Taemin. I haven’t even thought about-” He stops, looking scared. “-books,” he finishes quietly, like it’s a swear word.
“Hyung,” Taemin says, keeping his excitement in check, “Jinki-hyung, you don’t need to study anymore. You haven’t needed a book since we came here.”
Jinki frowns. “But I thought-”
“No,” Taemin laughs. He swings the bag from his shoulder and unzips it. “I didn’t bring the book.”
“Oh,” Jinki says faintly, eyes widening.
“Yeah,” Taemin whispers, “See, you’re going.”
The realization had made Jinki flicker back for a second, but now that it’s settling in, he’s going faster than ever. Jinki has just enough time to grin, touch his fingers to Taemin’s hand, and say, “Thank you.”
“Bye,” Taemin says softly as he disappears.
Jinki’s words and smile hang in the air for a long time when Taemin wakes up, and he runs through everything that happened before rolling over and screaming ecstatically into his pillow. His mostly-silent celebration is cut through by Kibum’s voice.
“Lee Taemin, the boy genius,” Kibum says sarcastically, “Who wouldn’t want their past to be snooped through by him?”
Taemin turns onto his back again before sitting up and facing Kibum, who’s sitting cross-legged on his desk. “Exactly,” he grins. “So why don’t you spare me the trouble and just tell me why you’re stuck here?”
“No thanks,” Kibum sniffs disdainfully.
“So why are you here?” Taemin asks. He changes his voice to mock Kibum’s. “I came to watch you fail because I’m an awesome person who doesn’t believe that people should be helped and what you did last time was totally a fluke. Only it somehow worked again, but next time it won’t work, because I said so.”
“Shut up,” Kibum snaps. “I really hate you, you know that?”
“Yup,” Taemin says, “I sorta caught on the few times you looked like you wanted to kill me.”
“Maybe next time I’ll carry through with it,” Kibum says. He stands up and goes to the window. “Anyway, I’m off.”
Taemin watches him open the window and swing a leg over the ledge before speaking. “Thanks, by the way.”
Kibum stops, confusion spreading over his features. “For what?”
“Not interfering this time,” Taemin says.
“Oh,” Kibum says gruffly. “Whatever.” He swings the other leg over and drops. Taemin considers looking out the window, to see if he really hit the bottom or if he simply dispersed into thin air. He sits there for a while, thinking about Kibum.
Taemin won’t lie - he’s a bit infatuated with Kibum. In a sense where he wants to reach out to Kibum, needs to reach out to Kibum, but he keeps being oppressed by Kibum’s sheer will. He tries to piece together the facts - Kibum can see any spirit. He can see real people, too. Taemin and spirits are the only ones who can see him. He has this instinct to “protect” the spirits from Taemin. Taemin pauses. How much of it is really instinct? Kibum keeps saying it’s his job. So unlike all the other spirits, he’s been assigned with a job to look over all the other spirits.
Taemin groans and flops back down onto his bed. It’s all too confusing. Kibum is too confusing. He frowns and looks over to his alarm clock. It stares back at him in bright red letters that hurts his eyes: 6:53AM, Sat. Sat. Saturday. No sch - oh. Taemin looks at his bookbag one more time before throwing the covers over himself and going back to sleep.
Taemin wakes up feeling pretty good. While dreaming all the time doesn’t really tire him out, it doesn’t compare with a few hours of real sleep. Which he has been getting less than his fair share of, he muses, but it can’t really be helped. When he swings his legs out of bed, his eyes catch the still open window, and he thinks of Kibum again.
But only for a moment, because it’s really too nice a day to be mulling over someone who’s such an enigma. Taemin grabs his phone and flips it open to text his friends. Wanna go catch a movie downtown?
He gets sures from Sungjong and Minjae when he comes back to his room after brushing his teeth, and starts searching for his wallet.
“Hey!” Sungjong says in greeting when Taemin gets to the front of the movie theatre. “Who else is coming?”
“Me,” Minjae says, coming up behind Taemin. He lightly punches Taemin. “What’s up? Shouldn’t you be spending your time studying to make up for all the times you fell asleep in class?”
“Nah,” Taemin replies, “I’m a genius. No worries.” Lee Taemin, the boy genius. He shakes his head. Screw Kibum. “Let’s go; what do you wanna watch?”
Sungjong and Minjae promptly fall into an argument over chick flicks and horror movies. Taemin tells them that action is better than both genres, and buys tickets for the new dance movie before either of them can protest.
After the movie, the argument turns into one on who the best dancer was. Taemin zones out as they walk down the street to grab something to drink. His gaze passes over the signs and shops on the other side of the road, not really paying attention to what’s on his side of the road. That’s why he almost slams into a guy, catching movement in his peripheral vision and stopping suddenly.
“Crap, sorry,” Taemin apologizes. “I didn’t-”
“Taemin,” Minjae interrupts, giving him a weird look, “Why’d you stop? And who are you talking to?”
Taemin’s heart sinks. He glances over, and surely enough, the boy he almost crashed into isn’t even paying him any attention. He’s just wandering - wandering this whole area, Taemin notices. He turns back to Minjae and shrugs. “I was spacing off and I thought I was gonna run into someone. My bad.”
“You’re always pulling weird shit,” Sungjong teases, reaching out to pull on Taemin’s arm. “We’re used to it. C’mon, let’s not stand here for forever.”
Taemin sticks out his tongue at Sungjong but follows, casting a last glance at the nameless boy and knowing deep down that he’s going to come back here to try to figure things out.
First things first, Taemin decides after dinner, going up to his room and idling over his homework. He’ll just have to try concentrating on the image of the boy and dream. The fact that he didn’t even manage to see the boy’s face, coupled with the fact that it didn’t work with Jinki when he just tried to dream without reading, makes him doubtful. But he might as well give it a shot.
It doesn’t work, unsurprisingly. Not that Taemin didn’t dream, but the dream didn’t even have the boy in it. It had Kibum.
No, Taemin realizes, squinting to recall details before the dream slips through the cracks in his mind and into a black hole somewhere. I was Kibum. I was... He tries to remember more. ...running. And like it happened in real life, Taemin’s leg muscles twitch, as if from overuse. He stays in bed a few more minutes, wondering. Running from what?
Taemin lies in his bed and stares at the clock. It’s a Sunday, but he doesn’t want to go back to sleep. He gets up and goes to brush his teeth and wash his face. Half way through, he ends up staring at mirror, looking at his face from different angles for any traces of Kibum. Maybe he’s still there, latched onto his skin like a shadow ripping him apart inside out.
Taesun comes into the bathroom and gives him an odd look. “You’re awake already. I’m proud of you.”
“Whatever.”
“Anyways, get ready. We’re going to the bookstore downtown.”
Taemin mumbles something incoherent and stumbles out of the bathroom. His brother laughs at him and Taemin has half a mind to chuck something at him, but he’s already moving down the hallway, leaving Taemin alone.
Out in the middle of the street, he shakes himself and ignores the odd look from his brother. It’s burning outside and he can’t think properly, nonetheless pay attention to anyone and consider the rules of etiquette in public. He’s about to point this out to his brother when he sees someone brush past him, and if it anyone but Taemin, he would’ve believed it was a simple touch of shoulders, but no, he definitely phased through his arm. He pauses and turns around to see a tall boy in a simple t-shirt and jeans, pacing the sidewalk in front of the crosswalk. He’s lean and has the build of a model, but wear glasses and seems like the studious, athletic type.
“Taemin?” his brother asks. “What are you staring at?”
“What?” Taemin blinks. “Oh, um, nothing. Nothing much. So, uh. There’s this book I’ve been wanting to buy.”
“But I just bought my stuff,” Taesun groans and holds up his bag for Taemin to see.
“You can head home first, I have my own money, anyways. And I have a bus pass, too.”
“Mom might kill me,” he frowns, but shrugs. “Whatever, your fault, not mine. Call me if anything happens, okay?” He pokes Taemin in the cheek and smiles. “And pay attention. You’re kind of 4-D.”
Taemin frowns, flushes red and rubs at his cheek. “I’m not 4-D,” he mumbles as his brother walks away. He turns away to look at the supposed spirit. “I just see things you don’t,” he sighs. The street is empty for the most part, and there’s a bench right across from him, so he sits down and watches the other boy walk back and forth, back and forth.
“Is this really what you do with your free time?” Taemin jumps to see Kibum sitting beside him. “What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Kibum laughs at his own joke.
“That was real funny. A plus, really.”
“You say that like you’re any better.”
“Why are you here?” Taemin sighs. “I’m doing important things, as you can see. If you’re going to complain to me about how I can’t do shit and clearly nothing will ever go the way I want to, and this soul will be here forever, then you can just suck it.”
“Harsh,” Kibum frowns. “I’ve given up on convincing you, for the most part. Doesn’t mean I approve of what you’re doing. And I won’t help you, either. I know too many kids who’ve gotten full of themselves and failed. Too many kids I’ve had to put in place.”
Taemin pauses. “Put in place?”
Kibum sighs and leans back against the bench. “Those kids - crazy, really, they were. One of them went insane. He couldn’t tell what was reality and what wasn’t. He would think he was in real life when he was in a dream, and couldn’t understand why there wasn’t anyone there. I tried to help him, I really did, but he just didn’t understand. And another girl fell in love with a spirit. That was the line, I had no choice at that point.”
“That’s... harsh,” Taemin frowns. “Would you do that to me?”
Kibum ignores him. “Yeah, those kids went too far.” He kicks his legs for a bit and faces Taemin. “Wanna know a secret?”
Taemin raises an eyebrow and nods. Kibum grins. He leans forward, forward, until his lips are against Taemin’s ear, and he can see Kibum smirk from the side of his vision.
“I would,” he whispers.
Before Taemin can react, Kibum fades before his own eyes, and Taemin can remember his grin clearly, still there in his head, like a Cheshire cat gleaming down on him from every corner.
This, Taemin scowls, is pretty fucking frustrating. He watches the boy - the boy, he hasn’t even figured out his name yet - turn for the umpteenth time and make his way through the crowd of people. Taemin closes his eyes before the boy can walk back, because he think he’ll scream if he sees him do it again. He’s tried everything from nodding off in a cafe across the street to going up to the boy and talking straight to his face. With no results, of course. He opens his eyes and wearily tracks the spirit with his eyes.
And loses him when a crowd of cameramen and assistants pass by. Great, just great. They’re filming something or other on the street today, and he doesn’t want to be the weirdass kid in the background, sitting on the bench doing nothing except flicking his eyes back and forth. Taemin’s about to get up and leave when he notices that the boy isn’t pacing like he usually is.
Taemin stops and stares as the boy seems to notice the filming crew and trails after them, opening his mouth as if to say something. The boy follows them till the end of the block, and it seems like he can go no further. When he turns back, he’s frowning. Taemin waits until the boy goes back to his usual spot before leaving.
Weird, Taemin thinks on the bus, but different. So he can definitely work with this. They don’t have a camcorder at home, but Taesun has one of those fancy digital cameras that he uses when they’re out on a family trip. That’ll have to do - he’ll just ask to borrow it for a school project.
Getting a camera worked out as easily as planned, but Taemin’s nervous as he approaches the place where the boy always walks. What if a digital camera doesn’t work; what is he even going to do if it does work?
It does work, because the boy pauses when he sees Taemin and comes over. Taemin watches his lips move to soundless words and replies with a quiet hello, knowing that the boy can’t hear him, knowing that there’s little chance of the boy even seeing him. He could see the camera, but does he see the person, or is it just a blank face?
Well, since he’s come all the way here, he might as well do something with the camera. Taemin turns it on and fiddles with the settings, turning the flash off and setting it to portrait. Most likely, the camera won’t even capture the boy. Taemin lifts the camera to his face and looks at the boy, who shows up on the screen, and presses the button. Snap.
The boy shows up, alright, though Taemin’s pretty sure that he’s the only one who can see it. To be sure, he asks a woman around his mom’s age to take a picture of him on the street. He smiles and says it’s for a school project, and it works like a charm. He walks a little ways off and faces the camera, pasting a smile onto his face. Taemin keeps smiling as his eyes follow the boy, who’s approaching the woman. At that distance, the boy should be taking up the whole screen. Taemin moves as soon as he sees the shutter click, taking back the camera with a bow and a thank you. He checks the picture with the lady, and sure enough, the boy fills up the screen. Only he’s the only one who can see it.
Nothing new there.
Taemin sits on the bench like he always does and takes a couple more pictures before getting up to look for a place to print them, finding a photo shop a few blocks away. They tell him it’ll only take an hour, so he decides to stay downtown, going into the nearest cafe and ordering a soda.
“Isn’t that wonderful.” Kibum gives him a shit-eating grin as he steals a sip of Taemin’s orange soda. “You’ve found yourself a camwhore spirit. That’s interesting, isn’t it?”
“And useless,” Taemin sighs and swipes his soda back. Kibum splutters at the sudden loss and gags. Taemin laughs. “That was the most human I’ve ever seen you act.”
“It’s called a reflex,” Kibum says sourly and tilts his body away from Taemin. Hes faces the window and watches Minho pace back and forth. His gaze softens. “Have you thought of any possible methods?”
“I can’t find out what’s wrong with him, “ Taemin frowns. “He’s just naturally attracted to cameras. It’s frustrating.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Kibum shrugs and leans back in his chair. He spends his time between making shapes in the air with his clouds of smoke and inspecting Taemin’s face. It bothers Taemin, to say the least, and he finally puts his soda down ten minutes later and looks at Kibum.
“You’re the guardian of all the spirits, in a way, that’s what it seems like, that is, so why can’t you just talk to him?”
“Protocol,” Kibum answers simply and brushes a piece of lint off of his shoulder. “Besides, I don’t do that kind of stuff. And technically, neither should you. But I suppose as long as I’m here, I get to stop you from doing stupid shit before it’s too late.”
“Before it’s too late?” Taemin perks up. “Do you know what’s that’s like? Is that why you’re the guardian?”
“No,” Kibum snaps, and his glare is so sharp and cold that Taemin doesn’t dare pursue the subject any further.
Another ten minutes pass and Kibum suddenly waves the little smoke clouds out of his face. “Okay, this is really, really boring. I am more than positive that an hour has passed.”
Taemin takes out his cellphone and looks at the time. “Oh, it has been.” He gets up and tosses his plastic soda cup and makes his way to photo shop, getting the pictures. he sits down on the bench in front of the bus stop and opens the packet. It’s the same as before - the boy is clearly there, wandering around with an expressionless face.
“I forget the point of this,” Kibum drawls on sarcastically.
Taemin stifles the urge to crumple up the paper and answers. “Just to make sure of some stuff. Only I can see him, where ever, whenever.” He leans over and drops his head down, sighing. “I don’t know what to do with this. He likes cameras. That’s wonderful.”
“ Why don’t you just go home and call it a day? You can’t save everyone, and quite frankly, no one is expecting you to. Nobody really wants you to, either.”
“Correction,” Taemin rolls his eyes. “You don’t want me to.” He ignores Kibum’s pointed gaze and sighs. “I’ll leave, but I’m definitely coming back. I can promise you that.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Kibum mocks, but disappears into thin air. Even though he’s physically gone, Taemin still hears him. “Just remember that I’m watching everything you do, and I can get rid of you whenever I like.”
“Scheming bastard,” Taemin mumbles under his breath. He hasn’t realized how late it is until his cellphone rings with his brother’s number. He hangs up as quickly as possible makes his way to the bus stop. The time reads quarter to eleven, and Taemin can feel himself slumping over with exhaustion. He climbs onto the bus and stumbles into one of the seats, resting his head on the window and closing his eyes. It takes a full hour to reach the nearest stop to his home, so he rewards himself with a small nap.
Taemin wakes up, feeling stiff from sleeping in the bus seat - except he’s sitting on the bench he always occupies when he’s watching the boy. The realization surges through his body like adrenaline and he’s wide awake now, looking around to see if the boy is here, if he can finally talk to him.
The boy is there alright. He’s walking his usual route, approaching the bench, so Taemin stands to see if he notices him. When the boy looks over and a confused expression spreads over his features, Taemin feels so damn excited that he has half a mind to tackle the boy and chant you can see me I can talk to you finally finally finally. Instead, he waits for the boy to speak.
“I’ve never seen someone here who didn’t have a camera or something,” he says, curious. “Who are you?”
“That should be my question,” Taemin counters. “But for the record, I’m Taemin.”
The boy - hopefully, soon to be named - looks a bit taken aback. “I’m Minho.”
“Minho, huh?” Taemin mentally dances, but plows on, not knowing when he’ll have to wake up. “What are you doing here?”
Minho’s still looking at him strangely, though Taemin guesses that that’s to be expected if someone appears out of nowhere and asks you questions. “I think,” Minho says thoughtfully, “that I’m looking for someone.”
Taemin thinks of Minho when he’s awake, oblivious except when he sees a camera. “A photographer? Cameraperson?”
Minho looks surprised. “Maybe. I don’t remember his name, but I didn’t know much about him.”
Taemin frowns. “You don’t? Why are you looking for someone you don’t know?”
“He had an offer for me,” Minho says, sort of crestfallen. “But I don’t remember what it was.”
Taemin sits back down, feeling the familiar rush of sympathy and frustration come back. “It must’ve been important,” he says quietly, “If you’ve been looking for him for so long.”
“Yeah,” Minho agrees ruefully. “I think it’d be helpful if I could at least remember what his name was - it was on the card he gave to me.”
“He gave you a card?” Minho nods. “Well, that’s a start,” Taemin grins. “I’ll help you find him, alright?”
“Um, thanks, but you really don’t-”
“I’ll help,” Taemin repeats, adamant. Then there’s this sudden jolt, like someone just pushed him, and Taemin sighs inwardly. “Later!”
He wakes up to see the bus driver looking down at him and tapping his foot impatiently. “You fell asleep,” he says. “This is your stop, right?”
Taemin groans and looks out the window and yes - that is his house down the road. “Sorry,” he mumbles and stands up, stumbling out of the bus. By the time he’s by his mailbox, he jumps up and down on the balls of his feet in glee. He found it, he found it, he found it. He can imagine Kibum’s face, leering down at him, and before he knows it, he actually is, standing on his porch with his arms crossed, looking very much displeased.
“Hello,” Taemin grins, and Kibum snorts stepping aside as Taemin walks over to him and opens the front door.
“It’s one,” is all he says.
“Is it? I must’ve lost track of time talking to Minho,” Taemin challenges and he doesn’t miss the sudden tapping of Kibum’s finger as he looks more and more irritated.
“Had fun, did you?” Kibum follows Taemin behind into his room and stands at the door. “Did he cry his heart out while you listened to his problems and held his hand?”
Taemin bristles at the comment and turns around to face him. “He didn’t, and you have no place to talk, you fucking prick. You have the power to save those people but you’re just sitting here laughing your ass off at them and trying to stop them. What kind of person does that make you?”
Kibum growls and shoves Taemin harshly. His back hits the wall and he groans as Kibum jabs his finger into Taemin’s chest. “Don’t you fucking dare think that what you’re doing puts you up on some high pedestal, ‘cause you know what? You’re going to crash. Crash and fucking burn, and then you’ll know exactly what the fuck you’ve been doing. You’ll turn into one of them, and I won’t be there to help your sorry ass. You’ll turn into me and then you’ll regret it.”
His face is mere centimeters away from Taemin’s face, red and furious as the realization of what he said dawns on him. He steps away from Taemin and glares at him, chest heaving up and down with the adrenaline rush.
Taemin isn’t sure of what he should say, or if he should say anything. Kibum’s gone before he makes a decision.
You’ll turn into me and then you’ll regret it. Taemin frowns up at the ceiling as he plays the words back and forth in his head. His sarcastic side already has a response to it - you’re right, who would want that - but the rest of his brain isn’t going to be happy with just that. Turn into one of them; that one’s obvious enough. One of the kids who could see spirits and went crazy over it. But turn into Kibum? Why? No reason, unless he’s one of them. Which makes sense, Taemin guesses, maybe he couldn’t help them and he’s bitter about it. But why is he the only one stuck here? What happened to all the other kids who went insane?
That’s not all there is, Taemin concludes resignedly. So he’ll just have to keep thinking, thinking till all the loose ends connect or he has to write a will telling Taesun to enroll him in an asylum. Taemin makes a mental note to tell Kibum the next time he shows up that he’s probably the one driving everyone crazy wondering about who the fuck he is and what he’s doing here.
With a sigh, Taemin shifts his weight onto one elbow and snags the small pile of photos on the edge of his desk, rifling through them and seeing Minho where nobody else will ever see him. Except Kibum. Stupid, meddling Kibum who will step into his affairs but not the affairs of the people - spirits - who matter. Stupid fucking Kibum, whose resolute opposition is planting seeds of uncertainty in Taemin’s mind right now, even though he can’t see what’s so unbelievably bad about helping someone in need. Okay, so maybe he could go crazy, but that has to be years down the line, doesn’t it? He could stop before then. Depending on when it happens, I could go insane, Taemin thinks. I wonder if I’m insane for thinking that, though. It’s obvious that he doesn’t know enough, won’t be able to know enough unless he angers Kibum into telling him without meaning to. Could that be why, then? That Kibum’s against him for a reason that he doesn’t know, but Kibum does? If that’s the truth, it won’t make Taemin any less pissed off.
His rifling has landed him back on the first picture, so Taemin stares hard at Minho and asks him silently, there can’t be anything wrong with helping you, can there?
There’s obviously no response, and Taemin places the photos back on his desk, checking his clock and deciding to go to sleep, since tomorrow’s a school day.
Taemin comes to feeling as stiff as the first time, thinking that he should work on waking up in dreams where he wants to. Minho is still pacing and hasn’t noticed him yet. Watching him, Taemin can’t think of anything more sad than what he’s doing, what Jonghyun and Jinki were doing. An addiction to something you couldn’t do right the first time, an addiction that you couldn’t overdose and die from, because it’s one that starts when you die and goes on forever. Unless Taemin can do something - so he’ll try to. Kibum can get as irritated as he wants, Taemin decides. It won’t stop me.
“Hey!” Taemin calls out. “Have you remembered anything else?”
Minho stops in place and looks back, surprise etched into his face. “You’re back.”
Taemin shrugs. “Well, I said I would be. So, how’s the memory thing going?”
“Not well,” Minho admits, “I couldn’t think of anything after you left.”
Taemin thinks back. “You said that the guy offered you something, right? You probably said no, or you wouldn’t be here.” He looks at Minho. “Why’d you say no?”
“I said no because...” Minho trails off, unable to answer.
“School,” Taemin suggests, “Against your better judgement? Friends, parents, siblings-”
“Parents,” Minho interrupts slowly. “I’m sure it had something to do with my parents.”
“Parents,” Taemin repeats. “Can you remember why, somehow? It had to have been a big thing, to be stuck here forever.”
“I guess so,” Minho sighs and sits down on the bench Taemin had been occupying earlier. “They were disappointed, I guess. I can’t think of any other reason. I have no idea why, though.”
“Oh,” Taemin says, trying to get Minho’s memory going, “Cameras. You’re a bit attracted to them. Any idea why?”
“Cameras?” Minho asks. “No idea. That doesn’t make much sense. Cameras. What would a parent’s disappointment have to do with a camera?”
Taemin shrugs, and he stretches out on the bench, running a hand through his hair. He’s very handsome - Taemin has no idea why he hasn’t noticed before. Minho has big doe-like eyes and long, slender legs. He’s built, muscles in all the right places without overdoing it, and his hair falls perfectly into place without him even noticing. He looks like a model, one that he’d find on TV or in magazines or-
Oh.
“Have you ever considered modeling?” Taemin asks.
Minho’s silent for a moment, and in that moment, Taemin doesn’t dare move or breathe, because this is it, he knows it.
“I - yeah,” he whispers as he leans forward, curling into himself. Minho buries his face into his hands and sighs deeply. “I never really, y’know, wanted to go to college like the rest of the my friends. I never liked to studying or anything, I just did it because that’s what was expected of me.”
“You wanted to model, huh?” Taemin says softly, patting Minho’s shoulder awkwardly.
Minho nods weakly and removes his hands and continues looking at the ground. “My parents didn’t want that. They wouldn’t have. Maybe. I never asked. I said no, anyways.”
“You got an offer?” Taemin asks, trying to hid the surprisement in his voice.
Minho nods and laughs weakly. “This is weird. I spent years wandering this street and not remember anything, but at the mention of model, everything comes flooding back to me. But yeah, my parents would have never approved of it. And I don’t know - they’re my parents. I feel like I have to listen to them. Get their approval, you know? They brought me up.”
“What about you?” Taemin can’t help but ask. “That’s great and all, but shouldn’t they listen to you sometimes? You are their son.”
Minho shrugs. “I just do whatever I can to satisfy them. And I know for sure they wanted me to go to college.”
“So is that your biggest regret? Not being able to do what you wanted to do?”
“Maybe not that exactly, but the experience, yeah, definitely.” He sighs again and picks up his head. “I remember just sitting there, in my room, wondering how things would have been different. Would I have continued, become famous? Or would I have not, and just stopped and went back to school. That feeling, I wanted to feel it once.”
“I think,” Taemin says, squatting so that he’s looking up at Minho with an encouraging smile, “that that could definitely be arranged somehow.”
Minho raises his eyebrows. “How?”
“Don’t know,” Taemin admits. “But we’ll definitely figure something out. Alright?”
A corner of Minho’s mouth quirks up and he nods. “Y’know, you’re really weird. Telling me it’ll work out but not knowing how it will.”
“I get that a lot,” Taemin says ruefully. “The weird part, I mean.”
“I can see why,” Minho says solemnly.
Taemin frowns and punches Minho’s leg, earning a small laugh. It’s the first laugh Taemin gets out of him, and it’s all that takes to get rid of any bit of uncertainty that Taemin has about helping Minho. Helping anyone else he’ll come across later on. Then his alarm sounds like it always does and Taemin’s gone, almost before he can say bye.
A pleasant surprise in the form of Kibum sitting on his desk is what Taemin wakes up to, and the first thing that Taemin tells him is, “You’re wrong. Or okay, maybe you’re right, maybe I’ll go fucking insane one day like everyone else did, you included, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to do all I can before that day comes.”
“You’re pretty damn stupid,” Kibum sneers, “But I guess I should commend you for having some balls. Though whatever you do, can’t say I didn’t warn you. Just know that I’m a thousand percent against everything.”
“Don’t you have some type of better warning system?” Taemin taunts. “I mean, this is only the fifteenth hundred time you’ve shown up and acted all high and mighty, telling me that I don’t know what I’m doing but not telling me what I should know to understand what I’m doing.”
Kibum’s eyes flash. “You don’t need to know anything.”
“Oh yeah, that’s totally a satisfactory answer after all that’s happened,” Taemin says. “If this talk’s gonna go the same way that our other ones did, I think it’s about time that you hit me and disappeared so I don’t have to see your face anymore.”
“It wouldn’t happen if you didn’t try to get under my skin all the time,” Kibum says with a glare.
“It wouldn’t happen if you just told me things straight out instead of messing up and blaming it on me,” Taemin retorts.
Kibum scoffs. “Telling you what I know about all these dead people wouldn’t prove to do anything, would it? After all, the hardest part is figuring out how to fix their problem. Finding the problem itself is as easy as fuck.”
It’s like everything else has been confirmed, even though Kibum could’ve easily gleaned this information from watching Taemin and all those other kids trying to work out what to do. There’s this feeling of truth to it, like Kibum’s been there, done that. He’s one of them, for sure. “You know, don’t you? What it feels like to try to help them, what it feels like when you try for the umpteenth time and fail. Because you were - could still be - one of us. One of the kids like me.”
The way Kibum’s face clamps down on itself tells Taemin that he’s hit it, but, “No,” Kibum says quietly, “I’d never be one of you. Never follow along and fail like everyone else did.” He pitches his voice to mock Taemin - “Oh, I’ll help them. I can do it.” - and switches back, staring him down. “And what happens when you can’t?”
Taemin opens his mouth to answer, but he’s got nothing - nothing except his stubbornness, anyway. “I can,” he tells Kibum. “I can help them. This isn’t really about me getting on my high horse or anything, you need to understand that. It’s just that I’m making this up as I go along, because I can’t really do anything else. So all I can do is believe that I can help, and then do my best to make it happen. And you’re not going to tell me that I can do something else, that I can just ignore everything I see everyday and let them stay there forever. They’ve been there long enough already.”
Kibum doesn’t answer him right away; he sort of studies Taemin with an exasperated look that’s bordering on some other emotion. Grudging acceptance, maybe, if Taemin wanted to be optimistic about it. But more importantly, the silence allows Taemin to confirm something else.
“You’ve been here long enough already. How many kids have you seen try and fail, if you’re so damn pessimistic about the whole thing? How long do you have to stay here? You’re like us, because you said I’d end up like you, but you’re like them, too, even though you told me you weren’t.” Taemin says this all in one breath, not daring to stop because Kibum might stop him. Kibum doesn’t, though. He’s got his mouth set into a grim line, like he’s waiting for Taemin to finish, waiting because even if he blows up right now, it’s too late, Taemin’s already figured it out. “Do you regret helping them? Is that why you’re still here?”
“Yes,” Kibum says, standing up, “and no.” He doesn’t specify which answers go with which questions, but Taemin’s got a pretty good idea after Kibum flashes a leering smile at him. “And here I thought the great detective finally got to the bottom of the deep mystery known as Kibum.”
Taemin’s frustrated; it’s like he’s seen the answer and it’s twisted out of his grasp again. “Then what-”
But he doesn’t finish, because Kibum’s not there anymore. Taemin sits on his bed in a trance, trying to digest everything that’s happened since he woke up. Which was what - ten minutes ago? Only? It seems impossible.
A slap from his brother’s towel brings Taemin out of it, but the worried look Taesun throws at him when he doesn’t retaliate tells Taemin that he is definitely not going to be anywhere near normal for the rest of the day. Better start searching up those local loony bins, Taemin thinks wryly.
“Well aren’t you a happy camper?” Minjae sighs and pats the back of Taemin’s head, which is currently face down in his textbook.
“Absolutely giddy,” Taemin confirms.
“Ready for our Econ test next period?” Yeonhee smiles and opens her textbook.
“Am I? Isn’t that what textbook this is?” He closes the book and looks at the cover. “Nope, that’s Chemistry.” The others laugh at him, and he sighs dramatically. “I don’t even know what we’re learning.”
“Neither do I, high five!” Sungjong cheers and they fist bump each other.
“Oh, hey, look,” Minjae says suddenly in a hushed tone. “Isn’t that the new girl?” Everyone follows his line of sight where someone sits at a table across the room from them. Her uniform is hitched higher than most of the other girls, and her hair falls down her back in smooth curls.
“Dude,” Sungjong gapes. “She’s so banging.”
“I know right,” Minjae replies. “I would so tap that. She looks like a model.”
Yeonhee and Taemin exchange amused looks and reach for Minjae’s Econ textbook. They’re half way through the chapter when Minjae taps him on the back.
“Sungjong went to say hi, and to invite her out today.”
“But it’s Tuesday.”
“And? We had two tests, and have like, three more. We’ll have no homework. Shouldn’t, at least. Our history teacher is just a bitch. But anyways, both of you, come along! It’ll be less awkward for all of us. If worst comes to worst, you can just do whatever weird things you do, and we’ll laugh at you.”
“Thanks,” Taemin says dryly. “I feel loved.”
“We love your weird, okay? Oh - I got a text,” he pulls out his cellphone and flips open the screen. He face breaks out into a grin. “She said yes! Okay, Tonight at six. The cafe across from the photo store. That really creepy one, next to the computer store.”
Taemin laughs. “Creepy photo store, got it. I can probably finish my homework by five, since it takes an hour by bus to get there.”
“Sweet,” Minjae smiles.
Taemin enters the bus and sets his phone alarm an hour later - just in case. He falls asleep five minutes into the ride and wakes up on the bench in front of the photo shop. Minho’s looking at his reflection in the window, setting his hair and fixing the collar of shirt. He sees Taemin the window and turns around, giving him a small smile. “You’re here.”
“Yeah,” Taemin smiles back. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I was hoping something would just kinda pop into my head, y’know? But, I think I know what you’re looking for. That I’m pretty sure of, at least. I don’t know, I just figured I should let you know that.”
Minho chuckles. “Okay, that makes sense, I guess. Wanna fill me in?”
Taemin laughs awkwardly. “It sounds really awkward, I know, but I was thinking that it was like what you said before - that experience. Maybe, if you got that experience, it might help?”
“The experience of being a model?” Minho frowns. “How would that work out?”
“I have no idea,” Taemin sighs. “I just, it seems like it would work, doesn’t it? I guess you could like, pose for a bit. I don’t really know. Stare in the mirror, pretend you’re about to go on a runway.”
“I hate mirrors,” Minho sighs. “At least, now I do. Do you know what it’s like to have nothing but yourself and your reflection in the mirror for forever? It feels terrible. You get sick of your own self.”
“Oh,” Taemin says quietly. “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess.”
“I guess I could pose though, if it’s you that’s watching.”
“Me?” Taemin points at himself, surprised by the suggestion. “I don’t know what difference that would make, but okay. I guess you could, if you wanted to.”
“Well,” Minho says, contemplatively, “an audience is an audience, no matter who or what, right? You should count for something.”
“Alright,” Taemin nods. “So, uh. Pose. Do model-y things.”
Minho stands there awkwardly for a few moments before putting a hands on his hips. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he confesses. “And I feel like an idiot.”
“Do anything! Anything is posing, right?” Taemin says. “Be dramatic. You’re the star of a movie!” He gets onto his knees and spreads his arms out. “You are the villain in a soap opera!” Taemin stands up and covers his eyes with his hand. “You are - what are you laughing at?”
“You look really funny,” he says in between laughs, covering his mouth with his hand. “But in a good way, kind of. It looks like a lot of fun.”
“So join in,” Taemin grins. “C’mon, I don’t want to act stupid by myself.”
Minho looks doubtful but doesn’t resist when Taemin drags him into the middle of the sidewalk and starts calling out ridiculous scenarios that they should pose for, like you just got out of the pool, slick your hair back and someone just dissed you, what do you do and you’re Kim Yuna doing a triple axle spin thing.
Minho’s getting a little more into it, a little less stiff, and when Taemin finally runs out of things to say, he collapses onto the concrete, laughing until Taemin’s wondering if he’s ever going to stop.
“You okay?” Taemin crouches down and pokes Minho in the side.
“Yeah,” Minho says, pushing his bangs out of his face. “Better than I’ve been in a while, I think.”
“That’s good,” Taemin says, looking a bit crestfallen, “But not good enough.”
Minho looks at him questioningly.
“Didn’t work,” Taemin explains, frowning.
“Well,” Minho says, “That’s alright. I mean, you can’t expect to get it on the first try, right?”
“I guess,” Taemin agrees reluctantly. “But wait, why are you the one cheering me up?”
“‘Cause you’re the one who got all down,” Minho accuses jokingly, pointing at Taemin.
Taemin sticks out his tongue and bats Minho’s hand away. Then he feels a buzz come from his pocket and waves a hasty goodbye.
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