Release - Oneshot
Title: Release
Chapters: Oneshot
Pairing: Taemin/Jonghyun
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Angst
Warnings: mean!Jinki, mean!Minho, and mean!Key D: + non-con
Summary: They need release. Jonghyun happens to be in the way. Taemin happens (not) to notice.
So this little thing popped in my head. i dunno what's up with me and angst lol xD
Taemin is the kind of person who likes to keep to himself, and honestly, he's very good at it.
He kept his mouth shut that time when Minho brought cigarettes into the dorm when they were fifteen, and smoked them in the bathroom until there were stumps covering the whole floor and the dorm started stinking.
He turned his back when Jonghyun burst out crying over his notebooks one day because he couldn't get even the simplest math questions right and he felt he was too stupid to even live.
He put earplugs in his ears and turned to a new page in his book when Key brought a girl home after filming for Juliette. (He even brushed it off when he found dirty panties on the floor the next morning as he bent down to look for his favorite sweater.)
He covered up for Jinki when he came to work hungover and could barely open his eyes, so beaten down by alcohol he couldn't talk or make an educated response.
And Taemin doesn't say anything when certain members start feeling the pressure of the tight hold their careers have on them, and decide they want an escape. Escape in a form they shouldn’t be seeking.
---
Minho buries his face in the crook of Jonghyun’s neck, sucking at the papery cream skin as his hands brazenly grab at Jonghyun's ass. He rocks his hips, pressing his erection hard against the other boy.
“Did he come in you? I bet you’re still wet in here,” Minho pants into his neck, emphasizing his words by squeezing Jonghyun's ass again, spreading him open.
Jonghyun releases a startled gasp; Jinki’s come dripping past his hole, dribbling onto his thigh, wet and cold and sticky.
"D-don't..." He pleads, almost helplessly.
His reaction seems to spur Minho on, because he whispers a breathy curse word and forces his tongue into Jonghyun's mouth again.
Taemin's head is spinning as he watches Minho undress his band mate with heavy hands, deft fingers loosening the zipper holding Jonghyun's hoodie up before making quick work of his shirt.
He doesn't know why Minho suddenly wants Jonghyun, doesn't understand why he is so excited over having Jinki's sloppy seconds. He doesn't know why his hyungs need release like this, and why only with Jonghyun. He doesn't know why he's letting this go on without doing anything. A part of being a good maknae is leaving your hyungs alone, right? Don't question them; they can make their own decisions. Don't tell them what to do.
So he doesn't. He can't turn his back completely, but he keeps his mouth shut. He just happens to be able to see into Minho and Jonghyun's bedroom very clearly from where he's standing...which is outside the door.
Before he knows it, Jonghyun is completely naked. His clothes are a forgotten pile on the dull, wooden floor and the air seems to be chilly against his exposed flesh, because he's shivering. He's shivering because he's cold. He must be. His skin even has goosebumps on it.
Taemin doesn't know when they changed, when they became so corrupt, but it happened. At some point along the way. Every band has their secrets, he tells himself, their dark side. The rumble that's kept down under the perfection, glitz and glamour. What makes them the same as normal human beings. Or rather, what they have to do in order to stay close to being normal human beings. That must be it.
But Taemin feels like Jonghyun looks too small and ungainly beneath Minho’s unwavering stare, beneath his large body; though he would never get involved in something that does not concern him. He figures it's best if his hyungs' selfish actions take their course and steam is let out. Maybe it will keep them sane. Even though he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all.
---
The days sort of blur together as the weeks pass, and Jonghyun cries, but it's not because he can't solve an equation or because they've won an award.
Taemin knows that. He knows Jonghyun is hurting, the way he always takes showers (twice a day, no less), and how his smiles never really reach his eyes (they're unquestionably pretty, but halfhearted). Taemin knows that.
He knows his hyungs are becoming less and less like they used to be and more and more addicted to the pleasure they can steal as they deal with the pain of growing up in the spotlight. He knows that the more they are denied, the more they take, and Jonghyun has always been the weakest of the five, the most accessible. Just in the way.
Whether they know that he knows, or they don't care, he has no clue. But he is no threat regardless. He's just the maknae.
---
"Taeminnie...can I sleep in your bed tonight?" Taemin's eyes are wide and he's fully awake when Jonghyun approaches him in the middle of the night, his face tired and the big t-shirt he is wearing making him look even smaller than he is.
If there is a time he should be feeling guilty, it's now, because it's all his fault that Jonghyun is like this. He could say something, but he hasn't, because that's just how things work. The industry is a shark, and everyone is just out to get their share of what they can lay their hands on. It makes people greedy. They steal, and take what's not theirs, but that's how society has worked for decades. People just live with it.
Yet he can't look up into those tired, hopeful eyes that don't hold a trace of accusation, and speak straight to the person who’s been stolen from the most.
He's not sure if Jonghyun knows that he knows, but at the moment he feels vile, ardent, disgusting. And not ready to face up to it.
"Go sleep in your own bed, hyung. You know we have to get up early tomorrow."
You have a schedule at 6:30, god damnit.
Jonghyun stands there silently for a few seconds, lingering, and because of the dark Taemin can't see his reaction.
"Okay." He just answers, but because his voice is so quivering, so broken, and so hopeless, Taemin doesn't have to be able to see to know he's crying.
He can't sleep at all that night. And because Jonghyun is going back to Minho, back to their shared bedroom, he doesn't know if his hyung will either. He feels like puking. He should just stick a needle in his eye, or cross his heart and hope to die.
----
Jonghyun has broken something in the kitchen, because he hears a loud crash from that direction and a shriek that could only have come from Key.
He steps in and sure enough, Jonghyun is on the floor, in the midst of a sea of glass shards, and Key is moodily trying to clean it up, Jinki too focused on eating his cereal to look up.
They're passive, all so passive. Like they are about everything. About hurting Jonghyun, about lying.
Taemin sees Jonghyun clutching his hand with tears threatening to spill over in his eyes, and sees a line of red running down the smaller's wrist.
He wonders if the others actually care.
"Taemin, go fix him up," Key says, without looking back at either of them.
Taemin turns to head for the bathroom, Jonghyun follows.
The band-aids are hard to find because they've never really had to use them, and the only ones they have are purple, with green dinosaurs. Jonghyun doesn't seem to mind, as he stretches his scratched arm out for Taemin to treat, sitting next to him on the floor.
Taemin decides he should clean the wound first, because their floor is dirty and because he could have gotten glass pieces stuck in it. Luckily he learned how to clean cuts way before even becoming a trainee, and finds a cotton ball and some serum to do the honors.
He swishes the contents around a little in the bottle and when he feels it's ready be poures a generous amount out onto the cotton swab so it's fully saturated. He takes Jonghyun's arm and presses it firmly against his skin. The bottle says it has a high concentration of alcohol, so it should do the job. It should rinse it right out.
Jonghyun winces, Taemin lessens the pressure a little, but only a little.
He hears Jonghyun release a stifled sob, but he keeps cleaning his wound in silent concentration. It's bleeding rather profusely now. It's spilling onto the floor even. Blood stains are probably hard to remove from white porcelain tiling.
He grabs tissues from behind him and shoves it at the running crimson. He'll have to clean up later. The red stains might take some time to...
Before he can put down the cotton swab properly and fix the mess around him, he feels a pressure on his chest. He looks down and finds Jonghyun leaning his head into him, burying his face in his shirt. A string of sobs and hiccups follow, and soon he's crying loudly into Taemin's chest.
Taemin reaches for the band-aid, peeling off the protective wings and trying to patch Jonghyun's cut up properly before it can bleed more, because goddamnit he has to fix him up properly. Stop moving.
But Taemin knows that Jonghyun isn't crying because of the pain from the cut anymore, even if it's really deep. He's crying because of something that hurts much, much more. And Taemin, if he hadn't brought himself up to be passive and not get involved, would have put his arms around him and whispered comfort, but he can't even summon the energy to breathe right now. So he gently pries Jonghyun's face from his chest and starts packing up the first aid kit.
"Don't touch it, Jonghyun, okay?" He reminds him, capping the medicine and putting the other purple dinosaur plasters back into their box, where they belong. "It will heal if you leave it alone."
But he knows Jonghyun could scar. It's a deep cut, and a purple dinosaur band-aid might not be sufficient. Leaving it alone and untreated won’t necessarily heal it. Fuck.
---
It isn't until Jonghyun stops talking to him that he realizes with sick in his mouth, the gravity of everything, and has to hunch over to clear his head.
Cold, passive, and fucking ignorant, he can't understand why Jonghyun doesn't hate his guts. He doesn’t understand why he doesn't want to punch him at every chance he gets. He would hate himself. He does hate himself. He hates himself for being cowardly, or selfish, or whatever it is he is. All he knows is that sorry won't cut it, and it's too late for comfort.
He finds himself standing at the foot of Jonghyun's bed as he's sleeping, gazing down at the satisfying, rare sight of him being completely at peace and undisturbed.
Minho, Jinki, and Key are out, and Jonghyun has just stayed in his bed all day. Taemin is glad they're out. He's fucking glad they're out. They don't need to be there. They're all better off like this. As far away from Jonghyun as they can get.
When he comes closer to the body on the bed, his hand moves down to stroke Jonghyun's hair out of his face, and the latter's eyes flutter open slowly.
"Taemin?"
Taemin retreats his hand and walks over to the door where he switches the lock and locks it. Jonghyun has a lost, confused expression on his face, and he sits up in bed to watch Taemin, his stance wary.
He's not like the others, goddamnit. He wishes Jonghyun could let his guard down. If only with him, like he used to.
He walks back to Jonghyun who is watching his every move, until he stands right before him and feels like his head could explode at the dizziness those brown orbs are making him feel.
Fuck, he should never have been tainted. Not Jonghyun, not beautiful, loving Jonghyun. He should never have let it happen. It shouldn't be him. It didn't have to be, not really.
His arms reach out without a second thought. He instantly pulls Jonghyun into a crushing hug that holds everything he doesn't have the right to say and more. Apologies, promises, confessions, they aren't enough. They can't take away the pain, the tears, the fear, and the /loneliness/.
Jonghyun is stiff in his embrace, so soon he holds him tighter, bringing a hand around to his hair and cradling his head. He needs Jonghyun to feel his closeness, to feel safe with him, and when Jonghyun wraps his arms around his back and holds onto his shirt, Taemin feels his chest soar like he is the victor of the world.
The door can fucking remain locked. He won’t open it. Not for his members, their manager, or if the world is fucking crumbling down. He’ll sit in there with Jonghyun until the world can’t get him anymore, and then longer. He'll make it right.
When he kisses him, he tries to make it soft, he tries to make it everything that the ones he’s had with the others haven't been. He doesn’t know if he succeeds, but Jonghyun hasn’t pulled away yet, so it must have been a good try. He just wishes Jonghyun knew that this is what proper kisses are supposed to be like; gentle, and loving. And he’ll give them to Jonghyun for the rest of his life if he wants it.
Chapters: Oneshot
Pairing: Taemin/Jonghyun
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Angst
Warnings: mean!Jinki, mean!Minho, and mean!Key D: + non-con
Summary: They need release. Jonghyun happens to be in the way. Taemin happens (not) to notice.
So this little thing popped in my head. i dunno what's up with me and angst lol xD
Taemin is the kind of person who likes to keep to himself, and honestly, he's very good at it.
He kept his mouth shut that time when Minho brought cigarettes into the dorm when they were fifteen, and smoked them in the bathroom until there were stumps covering the whole floor and the dorm started stinking.
He turned his back when Jonghyun burst out crying over his notebooks one day because he couldn't get even the simplest math questions right and he felt he was too stupid to even live.
He put earplugs in his ears and turned to a new page in his book when Key brought a girl home after filming for Juliette. (He even brushed it off when he found dirty panties on the floor the next morning as he bent down to look for his favorite sweater.)
He covered up for Jinki when he came to work hungover and could barely open his eyes, so beaten down by alcohol he couldn't talk or make an educated response.
And Taemin doesn't say anything when certain members start feeling the pressure of the tight hold their careers have on them, and decide they want an escape. Escape in a form they shouldn’t be seeking.
---
Minho buries his face in the crook of Jonghyun’s neck, sucking at the papery cream skin as his hands brazenly grab at Jonghyun's ass. He rocks his hips, pressing his erection hard against the other boy.
“Did he come in you? I bet you’re still wet in here,” Minho pants into his neck, emphasizing his words by squeezing Jonghyun's ass again, spreading him open.
Jonghyun releases a startled gasp; Jinki’s come dripping past his hole, dribbling onto his thigh, wet and cold and sticky.
"D-don't..." He pleads, almost helplessly.
His reaction seems to spur Minho on, because he whispers a breathy curse word and forces his tongue into Jonghyun's mouth again.
Taemin's head is spinning as he watches Minho undress his band mate with heavy hands, deft fingers loosening the zipper holding Jonghyun's hoodie up before making quick work of his shirt.
He doesn't know why Minho suddenly wants Jonghyun, doesn't understand why he is so excited over having Jinki's sloppy seconds. He doesn't know why his hyungs need release like this, and why only with Jonghyun. He doesn't know why he's letting this go on without doing anything. A part of being a good maknae is leaving your hyungs alone, right? Don't question them; they can make their own decisions. Don't tell them what to do.
So he doesn't. He can't turn his back completely, but he keeps his mouth shut. He just happens to be able to see into Minho and Jonghyun's bedroom very clearly from where he's standing...which is outside the door.
Before he knows it, Jonghyun is completely naked. His clothes are a forgotten pile on the dull, wooden floor and the air seems to be chilly against his exposed flesh, because he's shivering. He's shivering because he's cold. He must be. His skin even has goosebumps on it.
Taemin doesn't know when they changed, when they became so corrupt, but it happened. At some point along the way. Every band has their secrets, he tells himself, their dark side. The rumble that's kept down under the perfection, glitz and glamour. What makes them the same as normal human beings. Or rather, what they have to do in order to stay close to being normal human beings. That must be it.
But Taemin feels like Jonghyun looks too small and ungainly beneath Minho’s unwavering stare, beneath his large body; though he would never get involved in something that does not concern him. He figures it's best if his hyungs' selfish actions take their course and steam is let out. Maybe it will keep them sane. Even though he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all.
---
The days sort of blur together as the weeks pass, and Jonghyun cries, but it's not because he can't solve an equation or because they've won an award.
Taemin knows that. He knows Jonghyun is hurting, the way he always takes showers (twice a day, no less), and how his smiles never really reach his eyes (they're unquestionably pretty, but halfhearted). Taemin knows that.
He knows his hyungs are becoming less and less like they used to be and more and more addicted to the pleasure they can steal as they deal with the pain of growing up in the spotlight. He knows that the more they are denied, the more they take, and Jonghyun has always been the weakest of the five, the most accessible. Just in the way.
Whether they know that he knows, or they don't care, he has no clue. But he is no threat regardless. He's just the maknae.
---
"Taeminnie...can I sleep in your bed tonight?" Taemin's eyes are wide and he's fully awake when Jonghyun approaches him in the middle of the night, his face tired and the big t-shirt he is wearing making him look even smaller than he is.
If there is a time he should be feeling guilty, it's now, because it's all his fault that Jonghyun is like this. He could say something, but he hasn't, because that's just how things work. The industry is a shark, and everyone is just out to get their share of what they can lay their hands on. It makes people greedy. They steal, and take what's not theirs, but that's how society has worked for decades. People just live with it.
Yet he can't look up into those tired, hopeful eyes that don't hold a trace of accusation, and speak straight to the person who’s been stolen from the most.
He's not sure if Jonghyun knows that he knows, but at the moment he feels vile, ardent, disgusting. And not ready to face up to it.
"Go sleep in your own bed, hyung. You know we have to get up early tomorrow."
You have a schedule at 6:30, god damnit.
Jonghyun stands there silently for a few seconds, lingering, and because of the dark Taemin can't see his reaction.
"Okay." He just answers, but because his voice is so quivering, so broken, and so hopeless, Taemin doesn't have to be able to see to know he's crying.
He can't sleep at all that night. And because Jonghyun is going back to Minho, back to their shared bedroom, he doesn't know if his hyung will either. He feels like puking. He should just stick a needle in his eye, or cross his heart and hope to die.
----
Jonghyun has broken something in the kitchen, because he hears a loud crash from that direction and a shriek that could only have come from Key.
He steps in and sure enough, Jonghyun is on the floor, in the midst of a sea of glass shards, and Key is moodily trying to clean it up, Jinki too focused on eating his cereal to look up.
They're passive, all so passive. Like they are about everything. About hurting Jonghyun, about lying.
Taemin sees Jonghyun clutching his hand with tears threatening to spill over in his eyes, and sees a line of red running down the smaller's wrist.
He wonders if the others actually care.
"Taemin, go fix him up," Key says, without looking back at either of them.
Taemin turns to head for the bathroom, Jonghyun follows.
The band-aids are hard to find because they've never really had to use them, and the only ones they have are purple, with green dinosaurs. Jonghyun doesn't seem to mind, as he stretches his scratched arm out for Taemin to treat, sitting next to him on the floor.
Taemin decides he should clean the wound first, because their floor is dirty and because he could have gotten glass pieces stuck in it. Luckily he learned how to clean cuts way before even becoming a trainee, and finds a cotton ball and some serum to do the honors.
He swishes the contents around a little in the bottle and when he feels it's ready be poures a generous amount out onto the cotton swab so it's fully saturated. He takes Jonghyun's arm and presses it firmly against his skin. The bottle says it has a high concentration of alcohol, so it should do the job. It should rinse it right out.
Jonghyun winces, Taemin lessens the pressure a little, but only a little.
He hears Jonghyun release a stifled sob, but he keeps cleaning his wound in silent concentration. It's bleeding rather profusely now. It's spilling onto the floor even. Blood stains are probably hard to remove from white porcelain tiling.
He grabs tissues from behind him and shoves it at the running crimson. He'll have to clean up later. The red stains might take some time to...
Before he can put down the cotton swab properly and fix the mess around him, he feels a pressure on his chest. He looks down and finds Jonghyun leaning his head into him, burying his face in his shirt. A string of sobs and hiccups follow, and soon he's crying loudly into Taemin's chest.
Taemin reaches for the band-aid, peeling off the protective wings and trying to patch Jonghyun's cut up properly before it can bleed more, because goddamnit he has to fix him up properly. Stop moving.
But Taemin knows that Jonghyun isn't crying because of the pain from the cut anymore, even if it's really deep. He's crying because of something that hurts much, much more. And Taemin, if he hadn't brought himself up to be passive and not get involved, would have put his arms around him and whispered comfort, but he can't even summon the energy to breathe right now. So he gently pries Jonghyun's face from his chest and starts packing up the first aid kit.
"Don't touch it, Jonghyun, okay?" He reminds him, capping the medicine and putting the other purple dinosaur plasters back into their box, where they belong. "It will heal if you leave it alone."
But he knows Jonghyun could scar. It's a deep cut, and a purple dinosaur band-aid might not be sufficient. Leaving it alone and untreated won’t necessarily heal it. Fuck.
---
It isn't until Jonghyun stops talking to him that he realizes with sick in his mouth, the gravity of everything, and has to hunch over to clear his head.
Cold, passive, and fucking ignorant, he can't understand why Jonghyun doesn't hate his guts. He doesn’t understand why he doesn't want to punch him at every chance he gets. He would hate himself. He does hate himself. He hates himself for being cowardly, or selfish, or whatever it is he is. All he knows is that sorry won't cut it, and it's too late for comfort.
He finds himself standing at the foot of Jonghyun's bed as he's sleeping, gazing down at the satisfying, rare sight of him being completely at peace and undisturbed.
Minho, Jinki, and Key are out, and Jonghyun has just stayed in his bed all day. Taemin is glad they're out. He's fucking glad they're out. They don't need to be there. They're all better off like this. As far away from Jonghyun as they can get.
When he comes closer to the body on the bed, his hand moves down to stroke Jonghyun's hair out of his face, and the latter's eyes flutter open slowly.
"Taemin?"
Taemin retreats his hand and walks over to the door where he switches the lock and locks it. Jonghyun has a lost, confused expression on his face, and he sits up in bed to watch Taemin, his stance wary.
He's not like the others, goddamnit. He wishes Jonghyun could let his guard down. If only with him, like he used to.
He walks back to Jonghyun who is watching his every move, until he stands right before him and feels like his head could explode at the dizziness those brown orbs are making him feel.
Fuck, he should never have been tainted. Not Jonghyun, not beautiful, loving Jonghyun. He should never have let it happen. It shouldn't be him. It didn't have to be, not really.
His arms reach out without a second thought. He instantly pulls Jonghyun into a crushing hug that holds everything he doesn't have the right to say and more. Apologies, promises, confessions, they aren't enough. They can't take away the pain, the tears, the fear, and the /loneliness/.
Jonghyun is stiff in his embrace, so soon he holds him tighter, bringing a hand around to his hair and cradling his head. He needs Jonghyun to feel his closeness, to feel safe with him, and when Jonghyun wraps his arms around his back and holds onto his shirt, Taemin feels his chest soar like he is the victor of the world.
The door can fucking remain locked. He won’t open it. Not for his members, their manager, or if the world is fucking crumbling down. He’ll sit in there with Jonghyun until the world can’t get him anymore, and then longer. He'll make it right.
When he kisses him, he tries to make it soft, he tries to make it everything that the ones he’s had with the others haven't been. He doesn’t know if he succeeds, but Jonghyun hasn’t pulled away yet, so it must have been a good try. He just wishes Jonghyun knew that this is what proper kisses are supposed to be like; gentle, and loving. And he’ll give them to Jonghyun for the rest of his life if he wants it.