Redemption
Title: Redemption
Author: wire_dancer
Fandom: SHINee
Genre oneshot
Pairing: 2min (Taemin centric)
Rating: PG
Summary: Living haunted by the nightmares of the past is a painful thing to do, but it's even more painful when the past comes back hunting you and that's when the real nightmare starts
-You are disgusting, damn, don’t come near me, and here I considered you my best friend. How can that be, you make me sick. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, just disappear from my sight. I never want to see you again, even your voice disgusts me, I never want to hear it again…
The light was piercing through my closed trembling eyelids as I struggled to break free from the chains of my nightmare holding me close, its sticky tentacles enveloping my whole being to the core, engulfing my sanity and crumbling away with my repeated attempts to wake up until I opened my eyes breathing hard, my heart thumping in my chest violently as I held onto the pieces of my drifting reality. Again. I saw it again today. I inhaled a deep breath until my chest hurt, lungs threatening to burst open and flopped on my crumbled bed sheets, my body sweaty and trembling ever so slightly as I curled into a ball covering myself with a blanket, and burying my face into a pillow, my hands clutched urgently onto the plush toy, fingers tracing it’s soft fabric, which relaxed me a little, but definitely not enough to let go of the pressure building in within, it’s my mind that was corrupted, my mind that caused those nightmares, and my body just followed suit. It couldn’t continue like that, I was tired, I didn’t want to see it again and the beating pulse of someone who lived inside me, someone who took the whole lot of my mind whispered to me, voice unknown and scary, ebony and light, soft and rock hard, it whispered to me
-You don’t want them? Who are you kidding? Isn’t it you who prays every night before going to bed for this dream to repeat itself, recurrent motion, slow pace, don’t you consider the wide jaws of your nightmares your refuge, can you even keep on living without them?
And as I buried myself deeper into the blanket I could still feel his voice, behind my close eyelids I could still see his face, the expression I will never forget and I just wanted to redeem from my own body, to leave those sickening chains that caught me in their net. I sighed, no matter how hard I tried to forget I still felt myself linger, I still lingered in the past.
Two years ago, on the day of our graduation, under the tree, where we used to share our lunch every day, my best friend confessed to me, in a voice so familiar and yet so unknown, he told me that he loved me. His face that I grew so used to see every day had the expression I’ve never seen, I always thought I knew every bit of him, yet I’ve never even seen him that way, I thought I knew his every thought, I knew him well enough to actually read his mind. How wrong was I? It turns out I knew nothing of him, it turns out he wasn’t an open book I could easily read, it turns out he wasn’t the one I always imagined him to be, and I was scared, I was utterly and completely terrified of the new him, of the part of him I had never expected to see, and scared as I was, I yelled at him, I shouted the most hurtful, most disgusting words that had ever left my mouth. Up till now, I’m still not able to forget the hurt expression that flashed through his eyes, the way his plump lips stretched into one thin line, the way he was looking at me like I was the most important thing he had and yet lost, but I was scared, and then he left, just as I wished he left me and only when I saw his broad back retreating hastily, only when I heard his muffled “sorry” and the sound of his footsteps, only then did I snap back to reality, only then did I realized how much I actually loved him.
I could just run after him, I could catch him, but the thing was…I never did, I never did…and he left me, just like I asked him, he disappeared from life, taking everything of him from me, leaving me with nothing but the realization of how empty I was without him by my side. But it was all my fault anyway, so I never chased him, even though I felt like I was going to break every morning I woke up, my head full of thoughts, all of them about him, my heart just got frozen in time and I myself became frozen and numb, non-existent completely, taunted by my visions and nightmares, hiding in the shadow of the past and scared to live in the reality surrounding me. My one and only outlet was dancing, but even this couldn’t keep me going anymore and I felt that the thread connecting my mind and reality was growing thinner with each passing day without him by my side. And when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, when I thought that my life without him was pointless and insensate, when I was drifting rapidly somewhere, to the place even I was scared to learn, he once again appeared in my life, he came back to lacerate my wounds and taunt me even more. And there was no place I could run, no way to flee, no root for redemption, I was trapped in between my own conscience and him, chained and restricted. No, he didn’t come back into my life, nothing like the grand entrance happened, no fairytale ending for us, in fact, he didn’t even know he was back into my life, I suppose he had never even intended to do it anyway. But he did, nevertheless, and there was me, glued to his persona, completely enthralled and tipsy with the thoughts of him, yet scared, so very scared to let him know.
No he didn’t just appear on my porch one day holding a bouquet of roses (even though it would be disturbing if he did), he didn’t come chasing me, ensuring how much he loved me, asking for a new beginning, he didn’t call me in the middle of the night, nothing like that, but one day, when I was surfing the channels aimlessly, late in the night, hiding from my repeated dreams, just switching the channels absentmindedly, when suddenly, unaware and stupefied, I caught a glimpse of a familiar smile, lightening his lovely features and my heart just sunk lower, eyes drawn to the lifeless screen, glued to him, perfect in his blue soccer uniform, running the green field, and I knew it, he came back, my past came hunting me back, and at that exact moment I was lost.
Becoming a famous soccer player, could he even come up with a harsher punishment for me, for being so slow, for being so injudicious, for inflicting it upon myself unwittingly, he was everywhere now, his presence overwhelming and omnipresent, his smiling face on the billboards gentle eyes and shy smile he possessed, yet I have never acknowledged, I didn’t even care about the stuff advertised, just with watching him I was content, TV shows, various kind, I consumed every piece greedily. He never talked there, sitting shyly in the audience, watching the show intently, but seemingly somewhere far off. I saw him almost every day and I could just ignore all of that, I could continue living my sheltered life, hiding from reality underneath the dark blanket, I could bury myself into work, I could run, I could still save myself from all that suffering and longing, but the moment I saw him I just needed more, more of that face, more of that smile, that rare gentle smile he used to give me, it wasn’t often now that I got to see it, as the smile on the billboards, though beautiful and dashing, seemed yet plastic and unnatural to my eyes, because once I recalled the real radiant one, lighting up everything around and I felt broken, knowing full well that I could’ve captured that smile, could have it with me, he could’ve been mine, solely. And I felt pathetic. More than anything I longed to see him again, longed to hear his husky voice, to feel the warmth of his hands on my skin, yet I could only visit his matches, seeking his persona in the smallest bits and fractions possible.
Although immensely popular, Minho never gave interviews and my yearning to hear his voice again was growing within me like a snowball, like a flaming burning underneath my skin, I was itching to have that wonderful voice pouring onto me again, washing away the lingering traces of the past and make me full again, yet that just never happened. Minho, probably tired of all the undiverted attention to him, refused to make any kind of comments steadfastly.
Unknowingly to myself, and definitely unnoticed by him, one day I found myself following him silently, sickly, stalker-like I followed his every step, getting a painful satisfaction from seeing him, even for a short moment, I looked for him, inducing even harsher nightmares, opening the door for my fears as they crept in gratefully, turning me into a walking shell with only one purpose only - seeing him.
I didn’t follow him every day, of course, just on the rare occasions from time to time, just to satisfy my thirst and longing for his tall lone figure, just to lay my eyes on him, even from afar, even through the prism of the thin glass wall separating us now, following him, I’ve never felt so dead, following him, I’ve never felt so alive.
He spent his days training, going out with his teammates on rare occasions and I was sadistically happy to see the lonely expression on his face, I was happy that he seemed lonely, even surrounded by the crowd of friendly people, I was happy like that, but at the end of the day I was disgusted, just so utterly disgusted for my previous thoughts. I couldn’t understand myself anymore, he was coming to me in my dreams, where he was running from me again and again, and every time I wanted to call him back, to grab him, to hug and whisper the words I heard only from him, instead every single time I just found myself frozen, completely immobile, and when I opened my mouth to say “sorry”, the only words falling down from my lips were scornful insults, painful bits of my bitter and scared self, unvoluntary and unwelcomed, and then once again I was reduced to watch his back retreat, having my heart break yet a little bit more.
He was great, admired and famous, the matches of his team drew a lot of attention and I was pathetic, standing among the cheering crowd, completely out of action, glaring intensely just at him, not really bothered about the game, the uselessness of my action hitting me hard, every time I saw a bunch of girls squealing his name and I would greet my teeth, knowing that his name could belong to me, yet every time I found myself back again, on the bleacher, eyes hungrily following him.
The media was agitated when some reporter caught him walking some cute girl home, as for me…the very moment I saw the photos, I was terrified, rendered speechless and the hopeless anxiety chained me, breaking the shell of my frail self-defense I managed to build after losing him, shattered was it, with just the picture of Minho bringing a girl home, holding her gently by the elbow, leading her to his apartment, where even his managers and teammates were rare guests. My lips were torn and dry, and I felt cold, beaten by the wind, but I spent half of the night, cold winter night under the lit up window in front of his apartment, staring blindly into the empty yellow eyes of his apartment complex, I just couldn’t bring myself to leave anyway, still I had to go home later, when the temperature fell so low, it became unbearable, the nightmares that were haunting me that night were especially cruel, I should admit.
That night didn’t do me good, and I got a high fever, taking to bed and hardly managing to even take care of myself. It was better though, my feverish state and muddled visions were far better than seeing anything like that again. Him holding someone else, I felt beat up and crashed.
I almost cried with relief the next day, when the news reported that the girl was just his cousin, I didn’t have the right to be jealous, yet I was. I was terribly bitter and jealous, to the point where I became delusional; thinking that he might probably love me again, that he might forgive me. I was still unreasonably and childishly hoping for my happy ending
In the end I concluded that I wanted him back into my life so much, that I didn’t care anymore. I was driven to the corner with my own obsession and anancasm. Hearing his voice was the only thing I could think of during the day, and at night, when I securely locked my eyes, it was his face that was in front of me. I was stuck up, with no root for redemption…and if you asked, I was the one cutting all the possible ways to escape. Punishing myself enough and despite my fears, I was going to meet him, I was going to tell him everything, hearing his voice just one more time, even this would be enough and I would be content with that, I kept on telling myself, yet I was hopelessly wishing for more. Telling myself I wasn’t scared of rejection, I silently prayed for him to accept me, the prospective of having him close, having him in the close proximity, in front of my eyes in the flesh made me elated and giddy with excitement, I decided to meet him after the next match and once making up my mind I wasn’t going to back up.
If you asked me about the match, I wouldn’t tell you a thing then, I just sat there leaden, my head reeling and my palms sweaty, I tried to focus on something, anything, failing miserably in the end, and letting the thoughts overwhelm me to the core.
Getting into the complex solely for sportsmen wasn’t as difficult as it may seem, cash opens up almost any door, and soon my slightly trembling legs led me inside, my hunt for him started. Fail. I couldn’t find him anywhere, lost in the maze of long corridors, among people, running somewhere, laughing and concentrated faces, flashing in front of my eyes as I was seeking the face I knew, yearning to look into his brown eyes again. Fruitless attempts though didn’t succeed and in the end I caught some man, whose face I remembered vaguely from the times I watched Minho, and he was probably his manager, standing there, looking through some of his papers, creating a perfect opportunity for me to approach him. I put on my best smile, innocent and sweet enough, consider me full of myself all you want, but I knew my ways with people, I was good looking enough for them to notice me, and I looked cute enough for them to want to give me a hand, I just shamelessly used my innocent façade and it usually worked. This man wasn’t an exception, probably thinking I was one of the fans, looking cute and harmless for him not to be disturbed by my presence in the building for staff only.
-How can I help you? - he asked smiling at me briefly
-I just wanted to see Choi Minho, I’m his fan - I simply started, smiling widely and hiding my tensed fists behind my back, the knuckles white and almost breaking - I wanted to talk to him - I confessed shyly, and who could say I was lying then?
The little crease between the man’s eyebrows wasn’t really a good sign, I thought and a long sigh was even worse
-Hey kid - I shuddered, being called “a kid” wasn’t knew to me, despite my height, I still looked pretty young, but it still irked me a little each and every time.
-I really would like to help you, but I’m afraid I can’t. I can get you an autograph if you want - I beamed at him with raylets of hope in my eyes, but he shook his head
-As for talking to him…give it up, you might as well consider it hopeless and impossible
-Why - I pried, my old habit of stuttering coming back for a second
-Don’t consider it personal kid, Mr. Choi wouldn’t talk to you even if he wanted to, for 3 years I knew him, he had never said a word, he is mute to be more precise…
No roller-coaster could make my head spin like his words did, ringing in my ears. Mute. Minho was mute, what a bullshit. I clearly remembered his voice, I heard it every night in my dreams, hell, I was desperate to hear it again, and now I was crushed and confused. My perplexed state was interrupted suddenly and I felt my knees grow weak when I caught a glimpse of a tall figure approaching us from around the corner, the familiar brown hair, big eyes and a fragment of a shy smile, warming its way into my frozen body, Minho was walking up to his manager, and the next second, when his eyes locked with mine, he was stunned, glued to the spot, eyes wide and unreadable, he looked scared and lost like a child, who let go of his mother’s hand. Turning to him, I wanted to come closer, wanted to wipe that worried expression off of his face, wanted to hear him say something, to make sure his voice was still there, with me, but Minho turned abruptly, running fast, his retreated back appearing again in front of my eyes, yet I fought my frozen legs, making my body move, just to run after him, to just capture him and claim him mine, because he was mine from the beginning and I was just going to make the things right. Again me with my stupid yearning for a happy ending.
You will laugh, but I caught him in no time, in the labyrinth of the corridors, he drove himself into the corner, staring helplessly at me as I approached him panting
-Minho - I stuttered softly, wishing for my voice not to betray me at a time like this. He shifted awkwardly refusing to look at me
-Minho - I called again, his eyes boring holes in the floor
-Minho - I touched his face, and he looked at me, finally looked at me, pain splashing in his eyes and I knew he felt it then, I grew confident and cruelly adamant, caressing his cheeks softly, going on tiptoes to look closer into the pools of his eyes
-Minho - I whispered pleadingly, but he just kept silent, pitiful, my kind, scared Minho, scared more than me even, voiceless
A flash of memories flew by me at an immense speed and I trembled buried under them
-You are disgusting, damn, don’t come near me, and here I considered you my best friend. How can that be, you make me sick. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, just disappear from my sight. I never want to see you again, even your voice disgusts me, I never want to hear it again…
-Minho - I felt my throat clogged with upcoming sobs, I fought back tears desperately, I didn’t have a reason to cry anymore
-Minho, it’s Ok, it’s Ok - I whispered running my fingers through the stands of his hair, him looking helplessly, stiff and constrained under my touch, my whisper deflected from the walls, surrounding us, pouring softly
-Minho, it’s fine, it’s fine to talk now - I whispered cupping his cheeks gently, and he breathed, he spoke, voice hoarse and stagnant, the most beautiful sound to my ears
-Is it Ok? - tentative, testing words flowing like river and I nod
-Minho - I whispered yet again, even closer to him - I’m sorry, I just can’t anymore, forgive me…
-No - shaking head bitterly, Minho stuttered - I am the one, I should be the one, asking for forgiveness, even though I was your friend Tae
The words on his lips, my name melting on the tips of my fingers, as I pressed them to his lips and I knew it would be fine later, it would be perfect from now on, my past finally caught me and there was no route to redeem, with Minho by my side I surrendered, pressing my lips to his awkward ones, I just sighed, it would be fine now, everything would be fine…
Author: wire_dancer
Fandom: SHINee
Genre oneshot
Pairing: 2min (Taemin centric)
Rating: PG
Summary: Living haunted by the nightmares of the past is a painful thing to do, but it's even more painful when the past comes back hunting you and that's when the real nightmare starts
-You are disgusting, damn, don’t come near me, and here I considered you my best friend. How can that be, you make me sick. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, just disappear from my sight. I never want to see you again, even your voice disgusts me, I never want to hear it again…
The light was piercing through my closed trembling eyelids as I struggled to break free from the chains of my nightmare holding me close, its sticky tentacles enveloping my whole being to the core, engulfing my sanity and crumbling away with my repeated attempts to wake up until I opened my eyes breathing hard, my heart thumping in my chest violently as I held onto the pieces of my drifting reality. Again. I saw it again today. I inhaled a deep breath until my chest hurt, lungs threatening to burst open and flopped on my crumbled bed sheets, my body sweaty and trembling ever so slightly as I curled into a ball covering myself with a blanket, and burying my face into a pillow, my hands clutched urgently onto the plush toy, fingers tracing it’s soft fabric, which relaxed me a little, but definitely not enough to let go of the pressure building in within, it’s my mind that was corrupted, my mind that caused those nightmares, and my body just followed suit. It couldn’t continue like that, I was tired, I didn’t want to see it again and the beating pulse of someone who lived inside me, someone who took the whole lot of my mind whispered to me, voice unknown and scary, ebony and light, soft and rock hard, it whispered to me
-You don’t want them? Who are you kidding? Isn’t it you who prays every night before going to bed for this dream to repeat itself, recurrent motion, slow pace, don’t you consider the wide jaws of your nightmares your refuge, can you even keep on living without them?
And as I buried myself deeper into the blanket I could still feel his voice, behind my close eyelids I could still see his face, the expression I will never forget and I just wanted to redeem from my own body, to leave those sickening chains that caught me in their net. I sighed, no matter how hard I tried to forget I still felt myself linger, I still lingered in the past.
Two years ago, on the day of our graduation, under the tree, where we used to share our lunch every day, my best friend confessed to me, in a voice so familiar and yet so unknown, he told me that he loved me. His face that I grew so used to see every day had the expression I’ve never seen, I always thought I knew every bit of him, yet I’ve never even seen him that way, I thought I knew his every thought, I knew him well enough to actually read his mind. How wrong was I? It turns out I knew nothing of him, it turns out he wasn’t an open book I could easily read, it turns out he wasn’t the one I always imagined him to be, and I was scared, I was utterly and completely terrified of the new him, of the part of him I had never expected to see, and scared as I was, I yelled at him, I shouted the most hurtful, most disgusting words that had ever left my mouth. Up till now, I’m still not able to forget the hurt expression that flashed through his eyes, the way his plump lips stretched into one thin line, the way he was looking at me like I was the most important thing he had and yet lost, but I was scared, and then he left, just as I wished he left me and only when I saw his broad back retreating hastily, only when I heard his muffled “sorry” and the sound of his footsteps, only then did I snap back to reality, only then did I realized how much I actually loved him.
I could just run after him, I could catch him, but the thing was…I never did, I never did…and he left me, just like I asked him, he disappeared from life, taking everything of him from me, leaving me with nothing but the realization of how empty I was without him by my side. But it was all my fault anyway, so I never chased him, even though I felt like I was going to break every morning I woke up, my head full of thoughts, all of them about him, my heart just got frozen in time and I myself became frozen and numb, non-existent completely, taunted by my visions and nightmares, hiding in the shadow of the past and scared to live in the reality surrounding me. My one and only outlet was dancing, but even this couldn’t keep me going anymore and I felt that the thread connecting my mind and reality was growing thinner with each passing day without him by my side. And when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, when I thought that my life without him was pointless and insensate, when I was drifting rapidly somewhere, to the place even I was scared to learn, he once again appeared in my life, he came back to lacerate my wounds and taunt me even more. And there was no place I could run, no way to flee, no root for redemption, I was trapped in between my own conscience and him, chained and restricted. No, he didn’t come back into my life, nothing like the grand entrance happened, no fairytale ending for us, in fact, he didn’t even know he was back into my life, I suppose he had never even intended to do it anyway. But he did, nevertheless, and there was me, glued to his persona, completely enthralled and tipsy with the thoughts of him, yet scared, so very scared to let him know.
No he didn’t just appear on my porch one day holding a bouquet of roses (even though it would be disturbing if he did), he didn’t come chasing me, ensuring how much he loved me, asking for a new beginning, he didn’t call me in the middle of the night, nothing like that, but one day, when I was surfing the channels aimlessly, late in the night, hiding from my repeated dreams, just switching the channels absentmindedly, when suddenly, unaware and stupefied, I caught a glimpse of a familiar smile, lightening his lovely features and my heart just sunk lower, eyes drawn to the lifeless screen, glued to him, perfect in his blue soccer uniform, running the green field, and I knew it, he came back, my past came hunting me back, and at that exact moment I was lost.
Becoming a famous soccer player, could he even come up with a harsher punishment for me, for being so slow, for being so injudicious, for inflicting it upon myself unwittingly, he was everywhere now, his presence overwhelming and omnipresent, his smiling face on the billboards gentle eyes and shy smile he possessed, yet I have never acknowledged, I didn’t even care about the stuff advertised, just with watching him I was content, TV shows, various kind, I consumed every piece greedily. He never talked there, sitting shyly in the audience, watching the show intently, but seemingly somewhere far off. I saw him almost every day and I could just ignore all of that, I could continue living my sheltered life, hiding from reality underneath the dark blanket, I could bury myself into work, I could run, I could still save myself from all that suffering and longing, but the moment I saw him I just needed more, more of that face, more of that smile, that rare gentle smile he used to give me, it wasn’t often now that I got to see it, as the smile on the billboards, though beautiful and dashing, seemed yet plastic and unnatural to my eyes, because once I recalled the real radiant one, lighting up everything around and I felt broken, knowing full well that I could’ve captured that smile, could have it with me, he could’ve been mine, solely. And I felt pathetic. More than anything I longed to see him again, longed to hear his husky voice, to feel the warmth of his hands on my skin, yet I could only visit his matches, seeking his persona in the smallest bits and fractions possible.
Although immensely popular, Minho never gave interviews and my yearning to hear his voice again was growing within me like a snowball, like a flaming burning underneath my skin, I was itching to have that wonderful voice pouring onto me again, washing away the lingering traces of the past and make me full again, yet that just never happened. Minho, probably tired of all the undiverted attention to him, refused to make any kind of comments steadfastly.
Unknowingly to myself, and definitely unnoticed by him, one day I found myself following him silently, sickly, stalker-like I followed his every step, getting a painful satisfaction from seeing him, even for a short moment, I looked for him, inducing even harsher nightmares, opening the door for my fears as they crept in gratefully, turning me into a walking shell with only one purpose only - seeing him.
I didn’t follow him every day, of course, just on the rare occasions from time to time, just to satisfy my thirst and longing for his tall lone figure, just to lay my eyes on him, even from afar, even through the prism of the thin glass wall separating us now, following him, I’ve never felt so dead, following him, I’ve never felt so alive.
He spent his days training, going out with his teammates on rare occasions and I was sadistically happy to see the lonely expression on his face, I was happy that he seemed lonely, even surrounded by the crowd of friendly people, I was happy like that, but at the end of the day I was disgusted, just so utterly disgusted for my previous thoughts. I couldn’t understand myself anymore, he was coming to me in my dreams, where he was running from me again and again, and every time I wanted to call him back, to grab him, to hug and whisper the words I heard only from him, instead every single time I just found myself frozen, completely immobile, and when I opened my mouth to say “sorry”, the only words falling down from my lips were scornful insults, painful bits of my bitter and scared self, unvoluntary and unwelcomed, and then once again I was reduced to watch his back retreat, having my heart break yet a little bit more.
He was great, admired and famous, the matches of his team drew a lot of attention and I was pathetic, standing among the cheering crowd, completely out of action, glaring intensely just at him, not really bothered about the game, the uselessness of my action hitting me hard, every time I saw a bunch of girls squealing his name and I would greet my teeth, knowing that his name could belong to me, yet every time I found myself back again, on the bleacher, eyes hungrily following him.
The media was agitated when some reporter caught him walking some cute girl home, as for me…the very moment I saw the photos, I was terrified, rendered speechless and the hopeless anxiety chained me, breaking the shell of my frail self-defense I managed to build after losing him, shattered was it, with just the picture of Minho bringing a girl home, holding her gently by the elbow, leading her to his apartment, where even his managers and teammates were rare guests. My lips were torn and dry, and I felt cold, beaten by the wind, but I spent half of the night, cold winter night under the lit up window in front of his apartment, staring blindly into the empty yellow eyes of his apartment complex, I just couldn’t bring myself to leave anyway, still I had to go home later, when the temperature fell so low, it became unbearable, the nightmares that were haunting me that night were especially cruel, I should admit.
That night didn’t do me good, and I got a high fever, taking to bed and hardly managing to even take care of myself. It was better though, my feverish state and muddled visions were far better than seeing anything like that again. Him holding someone else, I felt beat up and crashed.
I almost cried with relief the next day, when the news reported that the girl was just his cousin, I didn’t have the right to be jealous, yet I was. I was terribly bitter and jealous, to the point where I became delusional; thinking that he might probably love me again, that he might forgive me. I was still unreasonably and childishly hoping for my happy ending
In the end I concluded that I wanted him back into my life so much, that I didn’t care anymore. I was driven to the corner with my own obsession and anancasm. Hearing his voice was the only thing I could think of during the day, and at night, when I securely locked my eyes, it was his face that was in front of me. I was stuck up, with no root for redemption…and if you asked, I was the one cutting all the possible ways to escape. Punishing myself enough and despite my fears, I was going to meet him, I was going to tell him everything, hearing his voice just one more time, even this would be enough and I would be content with that, I kept on telling myself, yet I was hopelessly wishing for more. Telling myself I wasn’t scared of rejection, I silently prayed for him to accept me, the prospective of having him close, having him in the close proximity, in front of my eyes in the flesh made me elated and giddy with excitement, I decided to meet him after the next match and once making up my mind I wasn’t going to back up.
If you asked me about the match, I wouldn’t tell you a thing then, I just sat there leaden, my head reeling and my palms sweaty, I tried to focus on something, anything, failing miserably in the end, and letting the thoughts overwhelm me to the core.
Getting into the complex solely for sportsmen wasn’t as difficult as it may seem, cash opens up almost any door, and soon my slightly trembling legs led me inside, my hunt for him started. Fail. I couldn’t find him anywhere, lost in the maze of long corridors, among people, running somewhere, laughing and concentrated faces, flashing in front of my eyes as I was seeking the face I knew, yearning to look into his brown eyes again. Fruitless attempts though didn’t succeed and in the end I caught some man, whose face I remembered vaguely from the times I watched Minho, and he was probably his manager, standing there, looking through some of his papers, creating a perfect opportunity for me to approach him. I put on my best smile, innocent and sweet enough, consider me full of myself all you want, but I knew my ways with people, I was good looking enough for them to notice me, and I looked cute enough for them to want to give me a hand, I just shamelessly used my innocent façade and it usually worked. This man wasn’t an exception, probably thinking I was one of the fans, looking cute and harmless for him not to be disturbed by my presence in the building for staff only.
-How can I help you? - he asked smiling at me briefly
-I just wanted to see Choi Minho, I’m his fan - I simply started, smiling widely and hiding my tensed fists behind my back, the knuckles white and almost breaking - I wanted to talk to him - I confessed shyly, and who could say I was lying then?
The little crease between the man’s eyebrows wasn’t really a good sign, I thought and a long sigh was even worse
-Hey kid - I shuddered, being called “a kid” wasn’t knew to me, despite my height, I still looked pretty young, but it still irked me a little each and every time.
-I really would like to help you, but I’m afraid I can’t. I can get you an autograph if you want - I beamed at him with raylets of hope in my eyes, but he shook his head
-As for talking to him…give it up, you might as well consider it hopeless and impossible
-Why - I pried, my old habit of stuttering coming back for a second
-Don’t consider it personal kid, Mr. Choi wouldn’t talk to you even if he wanted to, for 3 years I knew him, he had never said a word, he is mute to be more precise…
No roller-coaster could make my head spin like his words did, ringing in my ears. Mute. Minho was mute, what a bullshit. I clearly remembered his voice, I heard it every night in my dreams, hell, I was desperate to hear it again, and now I was crushed and confused. My perplexed state was interrupted suddenly and I felt my knees grow weak when I caught a glimpse of a tall figure approaching us from around the corner, the familiar brown hair, big eyes and a fragment of a shy smile, warming its way into my frozen body, Minho was walking up to his manager, and the next second, when his eyes locked with mine, he was stunned, glued to the spot, eyes wide and unreadable, he looked scared and lost like a child, who let go of his mother’s hand. Turning to him, I wanted to come closer, wanted to wipe that worried expression off of his face, wanted to hear him say something, to make sure his voice was still there, with me, but Minho turned abruptly, running fast, his retreated back appearing again in front of my eyes, yet I fought my frozen legs, making my body move, just to run after him, to just capture him and claim him mine, because he was mine from the beginning and I was just going to make the things right. Again me with my stupid yearning for a happy ending.
You will laugh, but I caught him in no time, in the labyrinth of the corridors, he drove himself into the corner, staring helplessly at me as I approached him panting
-Minho - I stuttered softly, wishing for my voice not to betray me at a time like this. He shifted awkwardly refusing to look at me
-Minho - I called again, his eyes boring holes in the floor
-Minho - I touched his face, and he looked at me, finally looked at me, pain splashing in his eyes and I knew he felt it then, I grew confident and cruelly adamant, caressing his cheeks softly, going on tiptoes to look closer into the pools of his eyes
-Minho - I whispered pleadingly, but he just kept silent, pitiful, my kind, scared Minho, scared more than me even, voiceless
A flash of memories flew by me at an immense speed and I trembled buried under them
-You are disgusting, damn, don’t come near me, and here I considered you my best friend. How can that be, you make me sick. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, just disappear from my sight. I never want to see you again, even your voice disgusts me, I never want to hear it again…
-Minho - I felt my throat clogged with upcoming sobs, I fought back tears desperately, I didn’t have a reason to cry anymore
-Minho, it’s Ok, it’s Ok - I whispered running my fingers through the stands of his hair, him looking helplessly, stiff and constrained under my touch, my whisper deflected from the walls, surrounding us, pouring softly
-Minho, it’s fine, it’s fine to talk now - I whispered cupping his cheeks gently, and he breathed, he spoke, voice hoarse and stagnant, the most beautiful sound to my ears
-Is it Ok? - tentative, testing words flowing like river and I nod
-Minho - I whispered yet again, even closer to him - I’m sorry, I just can’t anymore, forgive me…
-No - shaking head bitterly, Minho stuttered - I am the one, I should be the one, asking for forgiveness, even though I was your friend Tae
The words on his lips, my name melting on the tips of my fingers, as I pressed them to his lips and I knew it would be fine later, it would be perfect from now on, my past finally caught me and there was no route to redeem, with Minho by my side I surrendered, pressing my lips to his awkward ones, I just sighed, it would be fine now, everything would be fine…