there's no such thing as meaningless love.
growing pains
pg, onew/minho
The pain of rejection registers before the logic, heart before mind. His pride shatters before he even has time to think about how much it actually meant and suddenly it's not just his feelings at stake anymore, it's everything about him. The tears aren't immediate, though.
“I need time for me, you know?” Minho says levelly into Jinki's ear. “This time needs to be my time. I'm sure you understand.”
“Yeah,” Jinki mutters. He whips his head to the side, not quite letting go of Minho, not yet. They're still dancing but the stomach jitters have moved into Jinki's throat. He swallows, once, twice, but the lump doesn't go away.
He'd thought that he had been prepared; he'd had every sentence worked out in his head. 'Would you hate me if I kissed you,' he was supposed to say.
(“Our stylist Jung Ah says she'll kiss Martin if you kiss me,” Jinki laughs, giddy with confidence and gin. It hadn't come out perfectly, but Minho had been looking at him all night; it didn't need to come out perfectly.)
Taemin takes one look at Jinki under the flashing lights amidst the mass of normal, drunken people, frowns, and says, “Hyung. Hyung, I know it hurts right now-”
So Jinki does the only thing his brain can process in his state and smiles, harder and wider than in any photoshoot he's ever done. It's perfect, he thinks. He can shrug it off and move on. Smiling through it is just the first step.
Taemin pauses and does the little flicking-glance thing that makes his hesitation blatantly obvious. “Let's go home. Do you want to go home? I think it's time to go home. Let me just get Jonghyun.”
Jinki laughs and grabs Taemin's sleeve. “No! No, not yet! We just got here. I still want to dance!"
He makes to join Kibum and Jonghyun before realizing that they're dancing alongside Minho and the numbness is finally starting to subside and the aching starting to take over. He nudges Taemin playfully, gets the boy to smile, and hopes he doesn't notice the wildness in his eyes. He'd call it desperation, but that would mean he still felt something for Minho, and that would be completely out of the question, especially now.
Everyone is beginning to filter out and reasong and relief begin eaking back into Jinki's head. The alcohol buzz is starting to fade finally. He's not quite sure what he'd been thinking when he'd approached Minho, but they were friends. Maybe not best friends, but friends, and that had to count for something. Jinki understood more about Minho than anyone else in the group and that had to make some sort of difference. Somehow.
He catches Minho in the doorway and has to edge himself out of the flood of people exiting to situate himself alongside the younger man.
“Hey, I'm really sorry about...yeah, well, anyway. Would you still be up for that movie night this next week?” He tries to sound like he's not asking for his heart back, please and thank you.
“I already told you, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I have exams to take, exams to study for. The only day I can do it is Tuesday.”
Jinki can't help the frustrated crease in between his eyebrows. “But I leave on Tuesday.”
Minho shrugs, still training his eyes straight ahead. He hasn't looked at Jinki once and it's so angering and hurtful that Jinki imagines himself throwing his fist straight into the boy's jaw. Just once. It would feel so good, the crack under his knuckles, the surprise in those black pupils.
He'd have to look at him then.
“Tuesday is all that I can do.”
Jinki stands there for a few seconds, hoping Minho realizes that this will probably be the last time they will see each other before the thought hits him that maybe this is exactly what Minho realizes.
He can't seem to coax the word 'goodbye' past his throat, so instead he says, “Yeah. Well,” and turns heel.
He finds Taemin scanning the crowd over on a picnic table.
“Let's go home,” Jinki says.
“Yeah, I know, I'm calling a cab,” Taemin mumbles, pulling out his cellphone.
“I need to go home,” Jinki repeats, more to himself than anything. “Now.” He can feel his ribcage constricting around his lungs and grabs at his chest like a madman, fingers slipping down his fancy, shredded clubbing shirt.
Minho comes out strolling next to Kibum and Jonghyun. They're laughing wildly and waving down a cab with obscene whistles and hand gestures. Kibum starts half-shouting the lyrics to Some Nights while Jonghyun swings himself around a lightpole. Minho trots along behind them with his hands in his pockets and a small, easy smile on his lips.
Taemin watches him with worried eyes and ushers him into the next taxi that pulls up, hanging up on the cabbie that is currently on the other end of his phonecall.
It's quiet after the door shuts, everyone's voices are muffled, and Taemin says, “Hey. Hyung. I'm proud that you at least put yourself out there. That took a lot of guts.”
That's when the tears come.
It's Tuesday night. Jin and Jung Ah and Jinki are just leaving the club, climbing into a taxi, and the heavy knowledge that this is all ending still hangs precariously over the fact that, well, everyone's still here. No one is gone yet. And you can't miss something that isn't gone.
They get to Jin and Jung Ah's shared house just past 3am. The rain is coming down in irregular sheets, like it needs a few seconds to recooperate in between rounds.
“Jinki,” Jung Ah says once they're all outside of the cab, clothes soaked and clinging to her tiny frame. She wraps her arms around Jinki's larger body and pulls him in close. “I'll miss you so much.” He laughs, giving a short squeeze before releasing her. He turns to Jin, their previous manager, and slouches awkwardly before the man yanks him into a circle of arms.
“Jinki,” he says, smiling over the man's matted hair. “Just think about how much fun you've had. It was all worth it, wasn't it?”
Jinki shakes with laughter until the tears come once again, except this time he doesn't want to stop them. They're not painful, like last time. The more he lets himself cry, the more the pressure drops. After a good minute, he pulls away, scrubbing his palm across his face (uselessly in this weather) before Jung Ah purses her lips and lunges at the two men, pulling everyone together.
“Oh, Jinki,” she says one final time.
Before they part ways, she touches her fingers to Jinki's hair and lays the most gentle of all kisses on his forehead.
Now, he thinks, it finally feels like goodbye. He lets himself cry in the backseat of the cab all the way back to the hotel, only that long. And then he has to pull himself together once again.
(“Jung Ah says that she'll kiss Martin if you kiss me.”
Minho sighs. “I'm...not so sure that would be appropriate.”
Jinki just laughs and beams over Minho's shoulder. 'But then we'll have failed Jung Ah,' he's about to say before there's a quick press of lips to the corner of his mouth. He blinks a few times, heart beat floudering to catch up with his head.
“That. That didn't count,” he manages.
Minho shrugs and remains silent. They dance without speaking for a few seconds before Jinki can't quite help himself. “Who is it? The one that you like the most?”
“No one,” Minho replies easily.
Jinki laughs but his eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean no one? Who do you like?”
“Nobody,” Minho says again. “This whole thing, this whole experience - I'm doing it for me. Not for anyone else. I've never had a girlfriend. Did you know that?” Jinki is not sure how that even matters but something is telling him that no matter what, this coversation is going nowhere good. The next few sentences that Minho relays fall short of Jinki's ears, melding into the buzz of the dance club. Jinki knows they're important, knows that they probably mean a lot to Minho (because Minho tells Jinki that kind of stuff, tells him things that he wouldn't normally tell anyone else) but Jinki can hardly see straight right now.
Focus, he tells himself. For the love of god, focus and pretend you're not competely falling apart.
“Look,” and Jinki tries, tries not to think about the kiss, tries not to let himself think it mattered, because he knows what's coming because he'd known what was coming from the beginning. Minho pushes onward, oblivious. “I just don't think it's a good idea to start anything when you're leaving in three days. If it were any other time...”
Jinki wants to grimace and say that he really, honestly doesn't give a fuck because this isn't any other time, this is now, but his face has gone slack-jawed and he can hardly remember why he'd ever even let himself believe that Minho reciprocated anything let alone allowed himself to try this tonight of all nights.
“But I need time for me, you know?”
Right.
I need time for me. You know?)
Minho sends him a text just before Jinki passes through security in the airport. Thank you for everything. I'm just glad to have met someone who likes reading and goofing off and dancing to silly kpop music like I do; it was nice sharing that with someone. Really nice. Safe travels. - M
The guard ushers him forward and throws his carry on luggage onto the conveyor belt. He removes the battery from his cell before shoving it to the bottom of his bag.
And no one comes running, screaming for him to wait. No one comes to say goodbye at all, actually. He'd given his goodbyes out Tuesday night, last night. Any sort of goodbye at this point would be redundant.
“Where to?” the security man asks, hand outstretched for Jinki's boarding pass.
Jinki hands the documents over with a smile.
“Home.”
Everyone's gotta do one of those 'oh no a member is leaving/the group is disbanding' fics. I'm not even 100% sure if that's what's happening here, but. Oh well. Basically I just wanted to convey the idea that even if people are meant to be, sometimes situations don't allow for it. The fic was, shall we say, inspired. So if you have questions, feel free to ask away. I completely understand if anyone's confused.
pg, onew/minho
The pain of rejection registers before the logic, heart before mind. His pride shatters before he even has time to think about how much it actually meant and suddenly it's not just his feelings at stake anymore, it's everything about him. The tears aren't immediate, though.
“I need time for me, you know?” Minho says levelly into Jinki's ear. “This time needs to be my time. I'm sure you understand.”
“Yeah,” Jinki mutters. He whips his head to the side, not quite letting go of Minho, not yet. They're still dancing but the stomach jitters have moved into Jinki's throat. He swallows, once, twice, but the lump doesn't go away.
He'd thought that he had been prepared; he'd had every sentence worked out in his head. 'Would you hate me if I kissed you,' he was supposed to say.
(“Our stylist Jung Ah says she'll kiss Martin if you kiss me,” Jinki laughs, giddy with confidence and gin. It hadn't come out perfectly, but Minho had been looking at him all night; it didn't need to come out perfectly.)
Taemin takes one look at Jinki under the flashing lights amidst the mass of normal, drunken people, frowns, and says, “Hyung. Hyung, I know it hurts right now-”
So Jinki does the only thing his brain can process in his state and smiles, harder and wider than in any photoshoot he's ever done. It's perfect, he thinks. He can shrug it off and move on. Smiling through it is just the first step.
Taemin pauses and does the little flicking-glance thing that makes his hesitation blatantly obvious. “Let's go home. Do you want to go home? I think it's time to go home. Let me just get Jonghyun.”
Jinki laughs and grabs Taemin's sleeve. “No! No, not yet! We just got here. I still want to dance!"
He makes to join Kibum and Jonghyun before realizing that they're dancing alongside Minho and the numbness is finally starting to subside and the aching starting to take over. He nudges Taemin playfully, gets the boy to smile, and hopes he doesn't notice the wildness in his eyes. He'd call it desperation, but that would mean he still felt something for Minho, and that would be completely out of the question, especially now.
Everyone is beginning to filter out and reasong and relief begin eaking back into Jinki's head. The alcohol buzz is starting to fade finally. He's not quite sure what he'd been thinking when he'd approached Minho, but they were friends. Maybe not best friends, but friends, and that had to count for something. Jinki understood more about Minho than anyone else in the group and that had to make some sort of difference. Somehow.
He catches Minho in the doorway and has to edge himself out of the flood of people exiting to situate himself alongside the younger man.
“Hey, I'm really sorry about...yeah, well, anyway. Would you still be up for that movie night this next week?” He tries to sound like he's not asking for his heart back, please and thank you.
“I already told you, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I have exams to take, exams to study for. The only day I can do it is Tuesday.”
Jinki can't help the frustrated crease in between his eyebrows. “But I leave on Tuesday.”
Minho shrugs, still training his eyes straight ahead. He hasn't looked at Jinki once and it's so angering and hurtful that Jinki imagines himself throwing his fist straight into the boy's jaw. Just once. It would feel so good, the crack under his knuckles, the surprise in those black pupils.
He'd have to look at him then.
“Tuesday is all that I can do.”
Jinki stands there for a few seconds, hoping Minho realizes that this will probably be the last time they will see each other before the thought hits him that maybe this is exactly what Minho realizes.
He can't seem to coax the word 'goodbye' past his throat, so instead he says, “Yeah. Well,” and turns heel.
He finds Taemin scanning the crowd over on a picnic table.
“Let's go home,” Jinki says.
“Yeah, I know, I'm calling a cab,” Taemin mumbles, pulling out his cellphone.
“I need to go home,” Jinki repeats, more to himself than anything. “Now.” He can feel his ribcage constricting around his lungs and grabs at his chest like a madman, fingers slipping down his fancy, shredded clubbing shirt.
Minho comes out strolling next to Kibum and Jonghyun. They're laughing wildly and waving down a cab with obscene whistles and hand gestures. Kibum starts half-shouting the lyrics to Some Nights while Jonghyun swings himself around a lightpole. Minho trots along behind them with his hands in his pockets and a small, easy smile on his lips.
Taemin watches him with worried eyes and ushers him into the next taxi that pulls up, hanging up on the cabbie that is currently on the other end of his phonecall.
It's quiet after the door shuts, everyone's voices are muffled, and Taemin says, “Hey. Hyung. I'm proud that you at least put yourself out there. That took a lot of guts.”
That's when the tears come.
It's Tuesday night. Jin and Jung Ah and Jinki are just leaving the club, climbing into a taxi, and the heavy knowledge that this is all ending still hangs precariously over the fact that, well, everyone's still here. No one is gone yet. And you can't miss something that isn't gone.
They get to Jin and Jung Ah's shared house just past 3am. The rain is coming down in irregular sheets, like it needs a few seconds to recooperate in between rounds.
“Jinki,” Jung Ah says once they're all outside of the cab, clothes soaked and clinging to her tiny frame. She wraps her arms around Jinki's larger body and pulls him in close. “I'll miss you so much.” He laughs, giving a short squeeze before releasing her. He turns to Jin, their previous manager, and slouches awkwardly before the man yanks him into a circle of arms.
“Jinki,” he says, smiling over the man's matted hair. “Just think about how much fun you've had. It was all worth it, wasn't it?”
Jinki shakes with laughter until the tears come once again, except this time he doesn't want to stop them. They're not painful, like last time. The more he lets himself cry, the more the pressure drops. After a good minute, he pulls away, scrubbing his palm across his face (uselessly in this weather) before Jung Ah purses her lips and lunges at the two men, pulling everyone together.
“Oh, Jinki,” she says one final time.
Before they part ways, she touches her fingers to Jinki's hair and lays the most gentle of all kisses on his forehead.
Now, he thinks, it finally feels like goodbye. He lets himself cry in the backseat of the cab all the way back to the hotel, only that long. And then he has to pull himself together once again.
(“Jung Ah says that she'll kiss Martin if you kiss me.”
Minho sighs. “I'm...not so sure that would be appropriate.”
Jinki just laughs and beams over Minho's shoulder. 'But then we'll have failed Jung Ah,' he's about to say before there's a quick press of lips to the corner of his mouth. He blinks a few times, heart beat floudering to catch up with his head.
“That. That didn't count,” he manages.
Minho shrugs and remains silent. They dance without speaking for a few seconds before Jinki can't quite help himself. “Who is it? The one that you like the most?”
“No one,” Minho replies easily.
Jinki laughs but his eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean no one? Who do you like?”
“Nobody,” Minho says again. “This whole thing, this whole experience - I'm doing it for me. Not for anyone else. I've never had a girlfriend. Did you know that?” Jinki is not sure how that even matters but something is telling him that no matter what, this coversation is going nowhere good. The next few sentences that Minho relays fall short of Jinki's ears, melding into the buzz of the dance club. Jinki knows they're important, knows that they probably mean a lot to Minho (because Minho tells Jinki that kind of stuff, tells him things that he wouldn't normally tell anyone else) but Jinki can hardly see straight right now.
Focus, he tells himself. For the love of god, focus and pretend you're not competely falling apart.
“Look,” and Jinki tries, tries not to think about the kiss, tries not to let himself think it mattered, because he knows what's coming because he'd known what was coming from the beginning. Minho pushes onward, oblivious. “I just don't think it's a good idea to start anything when you're leaving in three days. If it were any other time...”
Jinki wants to grimace and say that he really, honestly doesn't give a fuck because this isn't any other time, this is now, but his face has gone slack-jawed and he can hardly remember why he'd ever even let himself believe that Minho reciprocated anything let alone allowed himself to try this tonight of all nights.
“But I need time for me, you know?”
Right.
I need time for me. You know?)
Minho sends him a text just before Jinki passes through security in the airport. Thank you for everything. I'm just glad to have met someone who likes reading and goofing off and dancing to silly kpop music like I do; it was nice sharing that with someone. Really nice. Safe travels. - M
The guard ushers him forward and throws his carry on luggage onto the conveyor belt. He removes the battery from his cell before shoving it to the bottom of his bag.
And no one comes running, screaming for him to wait. No one comes to say goodbye at all, actually. He'd given his goodbyes out Tuesday night, last night. Any sort of goodbye at this point would be redundant.
“Where to?” the security man asks, hand outstretched for Jinki's boarding pass.
Jinki hands the documents over with a smile.
“Home.”
Everyone's gotta do one of those 'oh no a member is leaving/the group is disbanding' fics. I'm not even 100% sure if that's what's happening here, but. Oh well. Basically I just wanted to convey the idea that even if people are meant to be, sometimes situations don't allow for it. The fic was, shall we say, inspired. So if you have questions, feel free to ask away. I completely understand if anyone's confused.