a table for four (2/?)
a table for four (2/?)
~ 2,330 w, pg, (minho/taemin/sulli/krystal), part i
Romeo and Juliette style, pebbles and climbing in the dark with daisies in hand.
■ in response to vibranthue prompts, all of them smashed into one.
■ I apologize for the short chapter, school has started, life sucks, you know how it goes.
Late July, early summer and post monsoon rain. Taemin drags him to Jinri’s pool house where they serve fruit punch with teeny tiny umbrellas in it. Minho rejects until there’s nothing left but defeat in his agreement. Taemin’s smile is like one of a child who fails to acknowledge the basis of their relationship is not friendship but Krystal, now curled up in bed with a cold pack, shivering probably.
Taemin talks without any pause in the glaring sunlight, Minho nod every two sentences and finish both their drink bottle by the time they get there. He rings the doorbell without much patience, only stopping when he hears footsteps nearing. He doesn’t hear Taemin’s voice but knows he’s blabbing on about Krystal’s latest visit to the doctor late last week.
Jinri moves from the door to greet them with a cheerful smile, showing the lipstick on her teeth. She goes to Taemin first, wrapping her arms around him in a friendly gesture which he returns, her carefully made ringlets bouncing against her tanned back when she stands on her toes to reach Taemin’s height. Jinri’s polka dots bikini is strapless and a contrast between precise red and white. Minho notices the extra padding in her bikini top and wonders briefly, who she’s trying to impress.
“Hey,” Jinri takes a step away from Taemin and to him, opening her arms a little in pretend hostility. Minho walks into it nevertheless, feeling the warmness of her against him as he awkwardly places his hand on the upper of her back. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.” She whispers dryly and pulls away, he nods.
She smiles slightly. “It’s too hot to be standing around, let’s go inside where there’s shade.”
“And pool.” Taemin adds with enthusiasm and follows Jinri in, Minho follows with a little sigh.
A labyrinth inside a doll house is what Jinri’s place is. There are too many rooms, too many turns and too many floral print wallpaper. Taemin looks undeterred by this and Minho figures he has missed out on a couple of visits. Though he has known Jinri for the longest out of them, Minho has never considered just how wealthy she really was. Despite being one of the most popular trainees, she often seems plain and ordinary to the eyes, his anyway.
“Nice place,” he compliments absentmindedly, eyes following the many pictures of Jinri in the hallway. “I like this,” he points, “The one with you and the pig tails.”
Jinri peers after it, pouting, “Oh god,” she says, “Don’t remind me of it.”
“Why?” Minho asks with a mocking edge to his voice as Taemin and he stops in front of the picture. “You look cute as a button, Jinri.” He says, trailing the curve of her chubby cheeks with his finger. “Even now, with all that make up caked on your face,” he pauses, feeling a smirk forming “You’re still only just a little girl.”
From there it spirals rapidly; exchanging insults with his back against the wall, Jinri’s nails digging into his tee, Taemin saying something incoherent over the top of their yelling. The heat is unbearable outside, it’s only worse in here. In the end, Minho leaves, Jinri stays and Taemin’s torn between the two options.
It was never going to work without Krystal.
Jinri calls him at night and it’s to explain herself.
Taemin thinks he might be dense because he doesn’t understand what happened earlier in the afternoon. Minho slams the door on his way out, Jinri rushed off somewhere and he is without a clue. It was almost as if the explanation was supposed to float right into his head and click into its place. That didn’t happen so he’s left with a phone tugged between his shoulder and ear, listening to Jinri apologize for nothing in particular.
“Yeah, so,” Jinri says, breathing heavy on the other line. “Nothing like what happened today will happen again.” She promises stiffly. “I didn’t know what I was thinking.”
He swallows down the fries and says, “Nah, don’t worry about it.”
“Ta -“
“I know you had your reason for doing what you did,” Taemin says without much thought. “It’s me. I know what you’re like - you’re Choi Jinri, you wouldn’t say those things unless someone pushed you over the edge.” He pauses again and considers for a moment, unsure with what he’s about to say, “Minho did that today.” Another brief pause where he decides it’s less of a statement and more of a question. “Did he?”
She chuckles and Taemin it’s been forever since he has heard one of those. “I don’t think it matters to you if Minho did it or not, Taemin.” Jinri says, there’s a smile somewhere in there. “You see the good in people, even if they’re bad.”
“Stop that,” he says a beat too quickly as he sit up right, not liking where this conversation is heading. “Don’t say that. It’s you, you can never be bad.”
“How would you know that?” she mumbles and laugh but lack humour. “We barely know each other, Taemin.”
“I don’t need to know you for six months or a year or even five years.” He says, subconsciously throwing his arms in disbelieve at what Jinri’s saying. “I knew who you were the moment
I met you and who you are, is not bad and even if you might be, technically and I mean in the standard term, you will never, ever be moderately bad to me.”
“Why?”
Taemin furrows his brows, dropping down on the couch. “What do you mean, why?”
Jinri makes a long ‘hmm’ sound before speaking again, “I could do something really, really horrible, like killing a puppy. I would be ‘bad’ to you then, wouldn’t I?” she asks, her
voice lingering on the question. “Would I still be - not bad, to you?”
“Oh come on,” he exclaims. “You would never kill a puppy, on purpose, and to answer your question, no, still not bad.”
“Why not?” she says asks in a tiny voice, sounding afraid to question him.
He frowns, bites his lip, lean against the kitchen bench. “Friendship.” Taeming says simply, feeling himself grinning. “It’s me accepting you, as you are, good or bad.”
Silence. Then, quietly, “Will I always have your friendship?”
“Always”
Taemin visits her and that’s expected. Minho doesn’t and that’s unexpected.
He sneaks in her bedroom window. Romeo and Juliette style, pebbles and climbing in the dark with daisies in hand. Krystal feels like a princess when he kneels beside her bed and smile so sweet that it almost melts away the cold spreading through her skin.
“I was going to call and let you know in advance but you obviously weren’t going to pick up in this condition.” He whispers and tugs a strand of mussed strand of chocolate brown behind her ear; Krystal can’t help but flinch at his sudden touch.
She feels the bed shift as Taemin lies down. In a way - it’s completely appropriate, she’s under the cover and he’s on top of them. Krystal doesn’t say anything when he pulls her into his chest, only relaxes into his hold and allow him to stroke her hair.
“Minho and Jinri had a fight today,” Taemin begins and Krystal’s eyes fly open in an instant. “They say all these…things to each other, Krystal. Weird, mean, confusing things to each other and I don’t understand.” She notes the hint of frustration in his voice when his hand digs into the blanket. “It’s all just words to me, meaningless noises flying out of their mouths, into my ears and it means nothing to me at all.” He pauses then finally murmurs, resting his chin on her shoulder, “Why couldn’t I figure it out - their argument?”
“Everyone have their own secret, Taemin,” Krystal whispers even with her eyes close, “Sometimes it’s the ones between two that binds them together.”
She can only hope there’s room for her somewhere in there.
Minho shows up on Taemin's doorstep with a mud clumped soccer ball, “Just making sure you’re not taking sides.”
“Taking sides?” Taemin echoes, rubbing sleep from his eyes and usher Minho in. “I’m either too sleepy to comprehend or you’re talking nonsense again.” He holds in a yawn as they tip toe up the stairs, careful not to wake the parents up. “Actually, never mind, you’re the obviously not thinking clearly if you think we can play soccer with that ball and in this hour.” Taemin doesn’t notice the abrupt pause of Minho’s steps and crashes into him. He looks up with a frown, “Did you start drinking?”
“You know, you talk a lot.”
“Okay, fine so maybe I do but that’s only bec -“
Minho hand clasped over his mouth before he could utter a word more. “That was a statement. I don’t need your respond.”
Taemin nods dumbly and Minho drops his hand then continues up the stairs.
“Now you and I…,” Minho trails off and heaves a sigh, “We’re going to spend some quality bonding time together.” They make a stop in front of his room and Minho leans against the door, raising his eyebrows at the name sign ‘Taemin’ in pastels. His mouth gaped open, a prepared speech on his tongue when Minho barrels on, almost as if he senses that Taemin’s up for another round of nonsensical talk. “I know you’re lost with the whole thing with Jinri from the other day and I’m not going to bother telling stories or whatever but I’m not always the bad guy, okay?”
He thinks he should ask questions but know Minho would prefer it if he didn’t. Instead Taemin says, “You can stay over but the rule stands, no ball games in the house.”
Minho goes ‘whatever’ and Taemin asks ‘what?’ but Minho’s already juggling the ball with his knees, effectively ending the conversation. Minho’s not much of a talker, Taemin discovers.
Jinri’s not sure why she called Minho, maybe it’s her almost non-existent faith in him but he does and she almost hurl at his ‘hello?’
She clears her throat and takes a deep breath and informs him very calmly, “I’m going to visit Krystal, you should come along.”
“Why?” He asks like her proposition is anything absurd.
Jinri scrunches up her nose but shakes off the feeling of frustration that’s quickly building up in her. “Because she’s our friend,” she states in a clipped tone, “And all of us have visited with an exception of you.”
Minho doesn’t say anything for a long while and Jinri almost hangs up when, “Taemin hasn’t visited.” Then quietly, “Has he?”
Jinri doesn’t know why but she considers denying the truth for a moment. “Yeah,” she feels her lower lip trembles, acknowledge the possibility that her voice shaking, “He has.”
The line clicks off. Jinri blinks hazily at her phone for a moment, not apprehending. But there it is: call ended.
One day Krystal wakes up and is no longer sick. Ironically, it’s then that Minho appears at her doorstep, arms overflowing with fruit basket and whatnots. He’s got a denim jacket on, one sleeve sliding down his arm, his hair is an array of mess and he’s coated in sweat, soaking through his white tee.
Krystal waits for him to say something, anything.
He doesn’t. Minho reaches over and gives her all the things that don’t matter (but his touch does). Krystal takes all that he’s willing to give, yet still no words - not a greeting, not a farewell. So they stay, grounded and stubborn as they are.
“I’m not sick anymore.”
Minho’s unfazed by her words and she pretends not to be either by his silence.
Finally, he says, “You should have asked me to come over.”
“But I didn’t.”
“No, you didn’t,” he agrees, dejected, “I hate that you didn’t.”
“You didn’t come to see me,” she says flatly, “Why?”
Minho just shakes his head at her. “Because I knew you wanted me to rush over the moment Jinri opened her mouth,” he begins, eyes boring into hers with such intensity that it makes her want to run away from him. “So you can see who gets here quicker, Taemin or I - which one of us pleads at your door louder, who comes bearing more flowers, who gushes on about their worries over you longer.”
Her reply is never to come so he interjects with a knowing smile, "Sorry, I couldn’t give you that satisfaction.”
Krystal takes a deep breath. "I’m sorry too.”
He laughs and knows she’s only apologizing for not getting her way.
Krystal and Jinri go out to lunch together, just the two of them. They talk about all the stupid cliché things that only girls talk about like - shoes and ideal types and nail polish and lip gloss shades. Krystal takes her to an overpriced French café and wears a beret for no reason, ordering colourful macaroons and cakes with names that they can’t pronounce. They stay out late at night, way pass their curfew and huddle close, hands intertwined and fingers interlaced as they window shop for clothes they can’t afford. Krstal gets grounded, so does Jinri.
They sneak out the next day and do it all over again.
They all make their own way to Jinri’s pool house this time. Krystal driven by her dad, Taemin riding his new bicycle, Minho dropped off by his coach after soccer practice.
There was no fighting, no confusion, no tour of the house, no childhood photos. Just the four of them, in the pool, with water guns and beach balls and sun screen.
Krystal’s floating above the surface on the pool lounge when Taemin and Jinri sneaks up from under and flips her over. She comes back up, looking like a mermaid from a storybook, screaming for Minho’s help when drowning in splashes of water bombarded by the pair. He dives in and none of them ever really leaves.
~ 2,330 w, pg, (minho/taemin/sulli/krystal), part i
Romeo and Juliette style, pebbles and climbing in the dark with daisies in hand.
■ in response to vibranthue prompts, all of them smashed into one.
■ I apologize for the short chapter, school has started, life sucks, you know how it goes.
Late July, early summer and post monsoon rain. Taemin drags him to Jinri’s pool house where they serve fruit punch with teeny tiny umbrellas in it. Minho rejects until there’s nothing left but defeat in his agreement. Taemin’s smile is like one of a child who fails to acknowledge the basis of their relationship is not friendship but Krystal, now curled up in bed with a cold pack, shivering probably.
Taemin talks without any pause in the glaring sunlight, Minho nod every two sentences and finish both their drink bottle by the time they get there. He rings the doorbell without much patience, only stopping when he hears footsteps nearing. He doesn’t hear Taemin’s voice but knows he’s blabbing on about Krystal’s latest visit to the doctor late last week.
Jinri moves from the door to greet them with a cheerful smile, showing the lipstick on her teeth. She goes to Taemin first, wrapping her arms around him in a friendly gesture which he returns, her carefully made ringlets bouncing against her tanned back when she stands on her toes to reach Taemin’s height. Jinri’s polka dots bikini is strapless and a contrast between precise red and white. Minho notices the extra padding in her bikini top and wonders briefly, who she’s trying to impress.
“Hey,” Jinri takes a step away from Taemin and to him, opening her arms a little in pretend hostility. Minho walks into it nevertheless, feeling the warmness of her against him as he awkwardly places his hand on the upper of her back. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.” She whispers dryly and pulls away, he nods.
She smiles slightly. “It’s too hot to be standing around, let’s go inside where there’s shade.”
“And pool.” Taemin adds with enthusiasm and follows Jinri in, Minho follows with a little sigh.
A labyrinth inside a doll house is what Jinri’s place is. There are too many rooms, too many turns and too many floral print wallpaper. Taemin looks undeterred by this and Minho figures he has missed out on a couple of visits. Though he has known Jinri for the longest out of them, Minho has never considered just how wealthy she really was. Despite being one of the most popular trainees, she often seems plain and ordinary to the eyes, his anyway.
“Nice place,” he compliments absentmindedly, eyes following the many pictures of Jinri in the hallway. “I like this,” he points, “The one with you and the pig tails.”
Jinri peers after it, pouting, “Oh god,” she says, “Don’t remind me of it.”
“Why?” Minho asks with a mocking edge to his voice as Taemin and he stops in front of the picture. “You look cute as a button, Jinri.” He says, trailing the curve of her chubby cheeks with his finger. “Even now, with all that make up caked on your face,” he pauses, feeling a smirk forming “You’re still only just a little girl.”
From there it spirals rapidly; exchanging insults with his back against the wall, Jinri’s nails digging into his tee, Taemin saying something incoherent over the top of their yelling. The heat is unbearable outside, it’s only worse in here. In the end, Minho leaves, Jinri stays and Taemin’s torn between the two options.
It was never going to work without Krystal.
Jinri calls him at night and it’s to explain herself.
Taemin thinks he might be dense because he doesn’t understand what happened earlier in the afternoon. Minho slams the door on his way out, Jinri rushed off somewhere and he is without a clue. It was almost as if the explanation was supposed to float right into his head and click into its place. That didn’t happen so he’s left with a phone tugged between his shoulder and ear, listening to Jinri apologize for nothing in particular.
“Yeah, so,” Jinri says, breathing heavy on the other line. “Nothing like what happened today will happen again.” She promises stiffly. “I didn’t know what I was thinking.”
He swallows down the fries and says, “Nah, don’t worry about it.”
“Ta -“
“I know you had your reason for doing what you did,” Taemin says without much thought. “It’s me. I know what you’re like - you’re Choi Jinri, you wouldn’t say those things unless someone pushed you over the edge.” He pauses again and considers for a moment, unsure with what he’s about to say, “Minho did that today.” Another brief pause where he decides it’s less of a statement and more of a question. “Did he?”
She chuckles and Taemin it’s been forever since he has heard one of those. “I don’t think it matters to you if Minho did it or not, Taemin.” Jinri says, there’s a smile somewhere in there. “You see the good in people, even if they’re bad.”
“Stop that,” he says a beat too quickly as he sit up right, not liking where this conversation is heading. “Don’t say that. It’s you, you can never be bad.”
“How would you know that?” she mumbles and laugh but lack humour. “We barely know each other, Taemin.”
“I don’t need to know you for six months or a year or even five years.” He says, subconsciously throwing his arms in disbelieve at what Jinri’s saying. “I knew who you were the moment
I met you and who you are, is not bad and even if you might be, technically and I mean in the standard term, you will never, ever be moderately bad to me.”
“Why?”
Taemin furrows his brows, dropping down on the couch. “What do you mean, why?”
Jinri makes a long ‘hmm’ sound before speaking again, “I could do something really, really horrible, like killing a puppy. I would be ‘bad’ to you then, wouldn’t I?” she asks, her
voice lingering on the question. “Would I still be - not bad, to you?”
“Oh come on,” he exclaims. “You would never kill a puppy, on purpose, and to answer your question, no, still not bad.”
“Why not?” she says asks in a tiny voice, sounding afraid to question him.
He frowns, bites his lip, lean against the kitchen bench. “Friendship.” Taeming says simply, feeling himself grinning. “It’s me accepting you, as you are, good or bad.”
Silence. Then, quietly, “Will I always have your friendship?”
“Always”
Taemin visits her and that’s expected. Minho doesn’t and that’s unexpected.
He sneaks in her bedroom window. Romeo and Juliette style, pebbles and climbing in the dark with daisies in hand. Krystal feels like a princess when he kneels beside her bed and smile so sweet that it almost melts away the cold spreading through her skin.
“I was going to call and let you know in advance but you obviously weren’t going to pick up in this condition.” He whispers and tugs a strand of mussed strand of chocolate brown behind her ear; Krystal can’t help but flinch at his sudden touch.
She feels the bed shift as Taemin lies down. In a way - it’s completely appropriate, she’s under the cover and he’s on top of them. Krystal doesn’t say anything when he pulls her into his chest, only relaxes into his hold and allow him to stroke her hair.
“Minho and Jinri had a fight today,” Taemin begins and Krystal’s eyes fly open in an instant. “They say all these…things to each other, Krystal. Weird, mean, confusing things to each other and I don’t understand.” She notes the hint of frustration in his voice when his hand digs into the blanket. “It’s all just words to me, meaningless noises flying out of their mouths, into my ears and it means nothing to me at all.” He pauses then finally murmurs, resting his chin on her shoulder, “Why couldn’t I figure it out - their argument?”
“Everyone have their own secret, Taemin,” Krystal whispers even with her eyes close, “Sometimes it’s the ones between two that binds them together.”
She can only hope there’s room for her somewhere in there.
Minho shows up on Taemin's doorstep with a mud clumped soccer ball, “Just making sure you’re not taking sides.”
“Taking sides?” Taemin echoes, rubbing sleep from his eyes and usher Minho in. “I’m either too sleepy to comprehend or you’re talking nonsense again.” He holds in a yawn as they tip toe up the stairs, careful not to wake the parents up. “Actually, never mind, you’re the obviously not thinking clearly if you think we can play soccer with that ball and in this hour.” Taemin doesn’t notice the abrupt pause of Minho’s steps and crashes into him. He looks up with a frown, “Did you start drinking?”
“You know, you talk a lot.”
“Okay, fine so maybe I do but that’s only bec -“
Minho hand clasped over his mouth before he could utter a word more. “That was a statement. I don’t need your respond.”
Taemin nods dumbly and Minho drops his hand then continues up the stairs.
“Now you and I…,” Minho trails off and heaves a sigh, “We’re going to spend some quality bonding time together.” They make a stop in front of his room and Minho leans against the door, raising his eyebrows at the name sign ‘Taemin’ in pastels. His mouth gaped open, a prepared speech on his tongue when Minho barrels on, almost as if he senses that Taemin’s up for another round of nonsensical talk. “I know you’re lost with the whole thing with Jinri from the other day and I’m not going to bother telling stories or whatever but I’m not always the bad guy, okay?”
He thinks he should ask questions but know Minho would prefer it if he didn’t. Instead Taemin says, “You can stay over but the rule stands, no ball games in the house.”
Minho goes ‘whatever’ and Taemin asks ‘what?’ but Minho’s already juggling the ball with his knees, effectively ending the conversation. Minho’s not much of a talker, Taemin discovers.
Jinri’s not sure why she called Minho, maybe it’s her almost non-existent faith in him but he does and she almost hurl at his ‘hello?’
She clears her throat and takes a deep breath and informs him very calmly, “I’m going to visit Krystal, you should come along.”
“Why?” He asks like her proposition is anything absurd.
Jinri scrunches up her nose but shakes off the feeling of frustration that’s quickly building up in her. “Because she’s our friend,” she states in a clipped tone, “And all of us have visited with an exception of you.”
Minho doesn’t say anything for a long while and Jinri almost hangs up when, “Taemin hasn’t visited.” Then quietly, “Has he?”
Jinri doesn’t know why but she considers denying the truth for a moment. “Yeah,” she feels her lower lip trembles, acknowledge the possibility that her voice shaking, “He has.”
The line clicks off. Jinri blinks hazily at her phone for a moment, not apprehending. But there it is: call ended.
One day Krystal wakes up and is no longer sick. Ironically, it’s then that Minho appears at her doorstep, arms overflowing with fruit basket and whatnots. He’s got a denim jacket on, one sleeve sliding down his arm, his hair is an array of mess and he’s coated in sweat, soaking through his white tee.
Krystal waits for him to say something, anything.
He doesn’t. Minho reaches over and gives her all the things that don’t matter (but his touch does). Krystal takes all that he’s willing to give, yet still no words - not a greeting, not a farewell. So they stay, grounded and stubborn as they are.
“I’m not sick anymore.”
Minho’s unfazed by her words and she pretends not to be either by his silence.
Finally, he says, “You should have asked me to come over.”
“But I didn’t.”
“No, you didn’t,” he agrees, dejected, “I hate that you didn’t.”
“You didn’t come to see me,” she says flatly, “Why?”
Minho just shakes his head at her. “Because I knew you wanted me to rush over the moment Jinri opened her mouth,” he begins, eyes boring into hers with such intensity that it makes her want to run away from him. “So you can see who gets here quicker, Taemin or I - which one of us pleads at your door louder, who comes bearing more flowers, who gushes on about their worries over you longer.”
Her reply is never to come so he interjects with a knowing smile, "Sorry, I couldn’t give you that satisfaction.”
Krystal takes a deep breath. "I’m sorry too.”
He laughs and knows she’s only apologizing for not getting her way.
Krystal and Jinri go out to lunch together, just the two of them. They talk about all the stupid cliché things that only girls talk about like - shoes and ideal types and nail polish and lip gloss shades. Krystal takes her to an overpriced French café and wears a beret for no reason, ordering colourful macaroons and cakes with names that they can’t pronounce. They stay out late at night, way pass their curfew and huddle close, hands intertwined and fingers interlaced as they window shop for clothes they can’t afford. Krstal gets grounded, so does Jinri.
They sneak out the next day and do it all over again.
They all make their own way to Jinri’s pool house this time. Krystal driven by her dad, Taemin riding his new bicycle, Minho dropped off by his coach after soccer practice.
There was no fighting, no confusion, no tour of the house, no childhood photos. Just the four of them, in the pool, with water guns and beach balls and sun screen.
Krystal’s floating above the surface on the pool lounge when Taemin and Jinri sneaks up from under and flips her over. She comes back up, looking like a mermaid from a storybook, screaming for Minho’s help when drowning in splashes of water bombarded by the pair. He dives in and none of them ever really leaves.