Taemin

 

 

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep!

I groaned and rolled over, searching for the source of the noise when I remembered that the noise was coming from inside the walls. I sighed heavily and troddled over to my closet.

Gee, mother Kibum really thought this out.

There was an outfit for Monday through Friday, five different outfits for the weekend (all equally stylish and horrifying) and one that stood out: a suit and tie. Probably from papa Jjong's closet. It had a single post it note on it, a date that read October 14th in Kibum's neat handwriting.

Today.

So. . .you're probably wondering about my home life. Honestly, it's boring. Without Key-eomma shrieking at me to get my homework done, or dino-appa giving me dorky little signs of encouragement, I'm just left with Suncheol. And quite frankly, it's awkward.

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep-

I stood up from my fetal position on the couch and troddled to the bathroom as casually as possible.

Still, Key somehow set an alarm for everything in the house - when to wake up, when to shower, when to leave for school, when to start homework, when to eat, when to. . .. . .I don't understand how he knows when these things are going to happen.

Also, I'm texted daily.

No, more than daily.

My phone goes off a lot. During class, at home, in the bathroom - and if I don't pick up, I get pummeled by this barrage of angry text messages. The dino texts and calls me too, but not as much. I have a feeling he's enjoying his time at Busan. Occasionally, he shouts out his dorky sayings when the phone is on speaker.

 

"Bwoh!? Maybe this Sungjong kid likes you!"

"Anniyo!" I whined- I mean, grumbled. "It's just protection."

"You guys are that far into your relationship?" I heard Key clasping his hand to his mouth.

"NO!"

"Yeobo! Taemin has discovered himself!

"He has? Oh, joy! Now, Taemin, I know it's fun and all, but you have to be careful. I mean, you're only eighteen. Kids like you can easily get AIDS when-"

I hung up on them, then banged my head against the nearest wall repeatedly.

 

I miss my parents, I thought, feeling my throat close up. Then I - literally - punched myself. Which resulted in me rubbing my cheek. Taemin, you are a man.

Oh, please. What kind of a man punches himself in the face. . .

Key has been pestering me about that job. I'm really starting to wonder what it is. Knowing Key, he wouldn't just give me some janitor job in McDonald's. No, it's be something like a junior fashion designer. I shuddered at the thought of me designing sequin-like clothing and worrying about colors clashing and-

I'm getting a headache.

Despite what Key said, Suncheol still cooks. In fact, she cooks a lot. Too much. She claims that I'm "too skinny" and pounces every attempt to shove a forkful of food down my throat. I was choking yesterday, and she took that as a sign to shovel more kimchi into my open mouth. I think this woman is trying to kill me.

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep-

"Alright, alright, I'm going!" I muttered, throwing my coat over my shoulder.

---

I stared up at the twenty-something story building, feeling intimidated. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Why do all adult things have to be so scary? Why can't the institution be all nice and white with pink fluffy marshmallow flags hanging aound it, instead of this...plain black and gray color? I wonder how hard the windows would be to crack in case I did something embarrassing. Better to die than stay in the room another second. Gah!

"Hey, pal," an unfriendly voice scruffed from behind me.

"NYEAH!" I squeaked and dropped my briefcase, causing it to clatter to the floor and echo. I whipped my head around to find the source of the noise. Noo, I must look like one of those lost children. 

I found a rather grumpy-looking man with a cap that reminded me of a truck driver. In on hand he held a well-used broom and in the other, a dustpan. "You gonna keep staring, or are you gonna get outta my way so I can continue my lovely career as a janitor?"

I jumped at his tone. "I-" I started, but it sounded like I was going through puberty, so I cleared my throat. "I guess I'll go now," I finished lamely, gathering my briefcase and waddled my way to the sliding doors.

Gee, what a nice guy.

I looked left and right, and all I saw was just desks, elevators, computers, all that business stuff. Everything was either black, gray, or navy. The curtains, the carpeting, the way people dress. . .this is ridiculous.

And oh, so scary.

I want to go home.

Home to the ever hardworking Suncheol, my music, my stylish clothes, my dumpster of a room, my fancy-shmancy neighborhood, my video games, my candy, my teddy bear.

NO. I must compose myself somehow.

I went to the nearest elevator, and as soon as I took the first step, I retreated because there were about ten or so people walking perpendicular to me. This is like a crosswalk! It's so crowded here! Maybe I should just make a beeline for it. Heh, heh. Beeline. Where do I come up with these words? 

One. . .

Two. . .

Three!

I sprinted toward the nearest parting of the crowd, feeling my hair fly backward and my heart pump. The whole thing lasted about seven seconds, which was enough time to catch all the dirty looks I got from the people passing by. My face felt red out of exhilaration and humiliation.

Wait a second, I'm still running-

CRASH.

"Mmph," I muttered in pain. I lifted my face off the wall. 

This is the worst day ever.

I slumped my shoulders, making myself less identifiable, and troddled to the elevator.

---

"Lee Taemin!"

I jumped about ten feet in the air.

I had been sitting here for about five minutes, fanning myself and trying to look cool, hiding the sweat on my forehead, playing with my phone, looking at everything but seeing nothing. I really must be nervous. Omo, I think I'm having cardiac arrest. Five minutes is not enough time!

I shakily got up, getting this really empty-full feeling in my stomach. My heart was pumping blood about ten times faster than usual. A bead of sweat dripped down my chin. 

Okay, man, you can do this. You had your first shot when you were five, and you can totally survive this, too.

Wait, no, they had to drug me first. . .

Awkward.

I tried opening the glass door, but my palms were too sweaty, so it just slipped away. I tried a second and third time, then finally managed the pull the door.

NOOOO. It's not opening. IT'S-NOT-OPENING. OHMYGOD. WHAT DO I DO!? I'M GOING TO DIE.

Oh, it says push.

Riiight.

I pushed the door with all of my weight and entered the room. It looked like the rest of the building, only set away by glass dividers, displaying me so everyone else waiting for their interview can see me. That's convenient. 

The lady at the desk, a well dressed woman with her hair pulled into a tight brown bun (keke, like a pile of poop), was leaning over a set of papers. She looked so busy that I considered leaving the office, but then she murmured, "Well, come in," in this monotone voice.

I sunk into the seat numbly, keeping my eyes on my shoes. I could feel the awkward silence, the only thing breaking it being the teeny clicky noises of her ballpoint pen. Finally, she set her pencil down along with her glasses, causing my head to snap up.

Oh my god.

Noona. . .is pretty.

"Lee Taemin?" she asked, raising her perfectly arched eyebrows. I continued to stare until her words processed in my head.

"Deh!" I replied a little too happily. I mentally facepalmed myself.

"Okay, it says here that you are a musical prodigy." I froze at her words. "I'd like you to demonstrate that before I ask you any further questions. To your right, there is a keyboard and flip the piano book to a random page. Play it to the best of your ability. I'd like to see how well you can adapt to a foreign sheet."

I looked to my right, and sure enough, there was a small keyboard and a really large, expensive looking booklet. I made myself stand up, as much as it almost hurt to make any movement from how stiff I was sitting. 

Kibum, you really are something. What kind of a job have you gotten me into?

I sat on the bench provided and scooted myself in. Then I swallowed for the fiftieth time today, gathering the book in my clumsy fingers. Once I was sure I wasn't about to drop it, I closed my eyes and let the book open flat in my palms.

 

Prokofiev - Eighth Sonata

 

Well, doesn't that just sound toodley pip and easy. My music teacher always told me that a music sheet was just a symbolic representation of sound and melody, but all these chords and scattered notes looked extremely difficult. Impossible.

I pressed my fingers against the smooth keys, trying to find the right notes to play. Usually, a piano would be like an old friend to me, some sort of stress relief, a relaxing hobby. Now, it's the cause of my humiliation! 

Wow, I'm getting really dramatic about this. Let just get it over with. . .

Okay, this is harder than it looks. I played at the speed of a turtle, even improvising and cutting out a few notes - okay, a multitude of notes. I calculated how many steps it would take to fling myself out of the window.It was that embarrassing. I glanced up at noona, who was staring at me with some sort of blank face. Doesn't she have any other facial expression?

I stopped in the middle of the song, leaving the last note hanging in the air and looked at my shoes, giving up. Frustration coursed through me, and I felt irritation at everything. Stupid job interview, stupid shiny shoes, stupid pretty noona.

Never mind. Noona is still pretty hot.

"Alright. If that is all you can play right now, you may come back."

I sighed to myself softly and went back, avoiding eye contact. "Sorry. That piece was difficult."

She said nothing. She only wrote something down and took out a clipboard. "How much musical experience do you have?"

"I took piano lessons since I was five."

"Name of your teacher?"

"Kang Jung Yeon," I muttered.

She kept asking me various questions, questions about my background, about my experience and whatnot, and I was getting the vibe that I was to be a performer at banquets and celebrations. I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure.

Finally, she dismissed me, telling me that she would call me back if I got the job. I simply nodded and got the hell out of there as fast as my legs could carry me.

OH MY GOD THE DOOR'S NOT OPENING AGAIN.

Oh, wait. I have to pull it this time. Right.

As soon as I was out of the room, I exhaled sharply and ran into the closing elevator. Everything else went by exactly as I came in; I sprinted against the crowd, and was welcomed outside with a strong puff of Seoul air.

"Yah, buddy," a familiar voice called from behind.

I spun around and found the same scruffy old dude from before I got the job interview. "Yes?" I said as politely as possible.

"Do me a favor. I got this battery powered piano thingy while I was cleaning-"

"Keyboard," I corrected.

"Whatever. The young lady on the eighth floor told me to dispose of it. Do you play piano?"

What is up with all these piano requests?! "Yes, ahjussi."

"Well, I'm getting bored and this old pia- erm, keyboard, still has some juice left in it." He tapped the keyboard on the ground next to him.

"Juice?" I tilted my head.

"Yeh know, battery power. And, well, I'm getting rather bored, you see. So if you could just play for me, that'd be real nice."

Noooope, I would just like to go home and drown myself in chocolate and get diabetes. I would not like to stay out here in the cold and play for a e-like janitor. In fact, I'm not even sure how you managed to ask a strange young boy still in high school such a favor. "Arasso."

"Well, go on, then."

I positioned myself beside the keyboard, sitting cross-legged since it was on the ground. I have such terrible posture right now. it's killing me. But what song should I play?

I paused, then began to play the introduction of my favorite song. 

Man, I loved this. Being able to close my eyes and play a song that I knew better than the back of my palm. It felt so natural and homely to just make delightful noises just by pressing plastic keys. My fingers flew across the board, pausing at the right moments, placing more pressure when I knew a certain note should be more intense, putting less pressure when I knew it should be softer. Why couldn't I just play this song back in the interview? The lady would have been so impressed. 

I finished off the song with a flourish, but left my hands on the board, letting the last note trail off until it died down.

"Wow," said a female voice.

I lifted my head up, and there was the pretty noona interviewer, staring at me with wide eyes. "A-Annyeong," I greeted stupidly.

"That was. . .a very well done piece. Was that 'River Flows in You?' " she asked, stepping closer.

"Y-Yeh," I said, starting to stand up.

Noona smiled for the first time. "Then I'm glad you put that keyboard to use. I will seriously consider you. The river does indeed flow in you," she said cheekily, and went back into the building.

As soon as she did, I jumped in the air like a cheerleader, squealing like a fangirl.

 

 

 

Good evening, guys. I'm sorry if this chapter has holes or doesn't make sense! Or maybe it's too boring. Gaah. I also apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes. I'm typing on this very tiny keyboard.

Anyway, Taemin got the job! YAY :D I had the longest writer's block and then I listened to Taemin playing River Flows in You. ;___; It was so beautiful.

You, Lee Taemin, are beautiful <3

LEE TAEMIN HWAITING.