“safe”. adjective. meaning: protected from or not exposed to danger or risk; not likely to be harmed or lost.

taemin comes out of the washroom rubbing his hands, the feel of cold water on his skin refreshing after the sticky mess he’d made with the book store cafe’s cinnamon roll.  he shoves them in his pockets & drops his head as he makes his way towards the exit.  he’s a paying customer but it still feels like they see what he is & he hasn’t yet come to terms with it.  halfway out, a man pops out of an aisle & nearly knocks him down.  they stand there, stunned, blinking at each other, & the other smiles in a way that is far too bright for a cloudy afternoon.

“hi!  do you happen to know where the manga are?  i got turned around & now i’m a little lost.”  very lost, taemin thinks, since they’re standing in the religious section.  he swallows at the thought & frowns because he’s clearly not a clerk & the other man is still smiling at him.  but he knows where they are & he knows what it’s like to be lost:  he has no reason to say no.

“over here.”  a tilt of his head to the left as he turns & heads down the aisle, avoiding the bibles that watch him passively from the shelves.  they reach the display & he gestures to the selection.

“awesome.  do you have any recommendations?”  taemin pauses, startled by the request. 

“uh, yeah.  this one’s pretty good.”  he pulls a familiar title off the shelf & hands it over to the stranger.  the other inspects it closely, flipping through a few pages, snapping it shut & looking up at taemin with that same smile, the one that’s a bit too bright.

“thanks, i think i’ll give it a try.  can i buy you a drink?”  it’s such an abrupt shift that taemin’s not sure he’s heard right.

“what?”

“a drink.”  he’s pointing to the cafe taemin was just in & still smiling.  taemin shrugs & says, “sure”.

the guy’s name is jonghyun & he’s a professor of music.  he’s engaging & nice & smiles quite a bit: it’s disarming.  when he asks taemin if he wants to go back to his place he says yes because he has no reason to say no & it’s often the safer answer.  it’s a small apartment with a big television & an even bigger stereo system.  a guitar sits in one corner & there are candles on either side of the sofa.  jonghyun lights them & has taemin sit down & they talk for a while about the type of things they like to read.  he’s not subtle, his gaze flickering down to taemin’s lips frequently.  taemin lets him kiss him because he asks & because he has no reason not to. 

there’s a certain timidity in everything jonghyun does, even when he’s ing taemin in his bed, as though he can’t quite believe that he’s stayed, that this is all happening.  his confidence is a front & a protection, one that taemin is intimately familiar with & is a comforting tether to this stranger.

he leaves the room with the promise to return & there’s a look of disappointment on his face when he returns to find taemin half-dressed.

“are you leaving?”  it’s not a question he’s used to hearing, the reverse often implied or stated outright & he’s not certain if he’s being invited to stay. 

“oh, i...do you want me to stay?”

“if you want...”  taemin nods & smiles: has no reason to say no.  jonghyun’s fingers remove the clothes he’s just stepped into, his tongue warm in taemin’s mouth, & he’s again when he falls asleep, the unfamiliar arm holding him around the waist a neutral experience that has connotations he’s not ready to explore.

jonghyun makes him breakfast in the morning.

& dinner that night.

it’s an unofficial move from jongin’s to jonghyun’s.  it’s not as though he was ever an official member of the household; his stay there was always tangential, determined by jongin’s good will & taemin’s willingness to occasionally be ed for the bed he slept in.  the parameters are the same with jonghyun except now it’s more than an arrangement, something closer to a relationship.  he waits for the shoe to drop, for the reality of the situation to reveal itself & it never does.  he is simply wanted & there are no extra rules he has to learn. 

jonghyun is never shy about expressing his interest taemin, telling him that he is beautiful even though he’s always sober, even when he isn’t asking for favors that require taemin to be on his knees; he just thinks taemin is beautiful & that taemin should know.  & clever, seeing something in taemin that he doesn’t see in himself, talking to him as though they were old friends & not the new strangers taemin knows them to be.  he answers jonghyun’s questions without details (taemin isn’t legal but his boss doesn’t know that & jonghyun doesn’t need to either), tries to keep up with the other’s thoughts, pretend he understands.  jonghyun is so gentle & kind & taemin would do anything to hold onto that even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it, knows it can’t last. 

yet it does.  even when jonghyun finds out, even when he learns how taemin has been keeping food on the table & a roof over his head he never wavers.  he still holds taemin through the night, still tells him that he is clever & beautiful, & still looks at him with such gentle affection that taemin feels weightless, as though the world were not actually the barren wasteland he’d so long known it to be.  he begins to believe it, to think that maybe this time is different, this time he might actually be loved & not lusted after.  and he is loved.  the things he had endured before, the ways in which his body & heart had been manipulated, stolen & abused, never happen with jonghyun.  nothing is forced on him, his opinion is always asked, consent is mandatory, everything begun with a question in his eyes & a murmured “does this feel good?”  and taemin has no reason to say no so he always says yes.  jonghyun doesn’t understand why his hands & mouth aren’t allowed below taemin’s hips when they face each other (& taemin never explains) but he respects the line & never crosses it, linking their fingers as he in deep & slow.  jonghyun gives taemin hope and every time he is told “you’re so beautiful”, every time he hears “i love you”, every utterance of his name from jonghyun’s gentle lips makes him think that maybe, maybe he is finally safe. 

their first fight two months later shakes his faith briefly, convinced that jonghyun’s abrupt withdrawal of contact meant that the end had finally come.  especially when his first attempts at appeasing his first boyfriend were failures when what worked with eunsook only ended with a silent glare: it took a day & a half for jonghyun to start talking to him again.  jonghyun was a sulker who wanted solitude while he pouted his way out of a funk & it all seemed like a lot of work just to stay mad.  future fights between them didn’t happen often, just enough for taemin to learn that a day & a half was the standard wait for jonghyun to start talking to him again & that he’d accept shoulder hugs & kisses to his head in the meantime but nothing more. 

simple rules to follow. 

the make ups were always worth the wait.

~

six months later

taemin’s keys jingle loudly in the crisp winter air.  the thud of the deadbolt & the twist of the frozen doorknob with his bare hand gives way to the warmth of the darkened apartment.  the door is shut & locked & he’s taken two steps inside when there are suddenly hands around his waist & familiar lips against his mouth.  he hears a faint click & then the electric candles jonghyun keeps on a low bookshelf light up.  laughter slips through his lips when jonghyun points up & he sees that the entire living room has been decorated in mistletoe. 

his own cold sleeves wrap around jonghyun’s shoulders & he places his frozen fingers against the skin of his boyfriend’s neck causing him to yelp & move to pull away.  he pulls him closer & kisses him hard, slipping his fingers down jonghyun’s collar as he slips his tongue into his mouth. 

the morning finds them with little marks & bruises, scratches on jonghyun’s back & a splash of red near taemin’s shoulders.   a timid request for a christmas tree, a tradition that taemin had enjoyed as a child & held out hope of continuing as an adult, is granted & that saturday is spent finding a lot nearby & carrying the evergreen home.  it isn’t until they arrive that they realize that there were no decorations in the apartment so they make their own: popcorn on string & paper cranes with words of love & affection that grow increasingly absurd &, in jonghyun’s case, obscene.  taemin just laughs & kisses his boyfriend on the ear.

not having been raised in the tradition, jonghyun relies on taemin’s memories & the only other activity he is interested in is baking cookies.  another trip out into the winter wonderland, gloved hands stuffed in their pockets, & they purchase a roll of sugar cookie dough already shaped into little trees & a tube of icing because neither of them is particularly interested in investing too much time & effort into the project: cookies are cookies.  the scent of them baking fills the house as they change into flannel pants & t-shirts & boil a pot of water for cocoa.

their next christmas is a repetition of the first, a series of traditions they’ve made for themselves.  this year taemin decorates the apartment with mistletoe before jonghyun can get a chance though he notices that there are three he has no recollection of hanging.  the one he placed in the coat closet is his favorite.  a glass jar filled with their notes from last year sits on top of a bookcase waiting for the ones currently hung on the tree to be added to the collection.

they’re in their flannel pants & cookies are baked.  steaming mugs of cocoa sit beside the platter of green christmas tree cookies with orange frosting & they are each five cookies in & jonghyun is already complaining of a stomachache when his phone rings.  he glances at the id laughing with a crumb at the corner of his mouth.

“it’s mom,” he says, his eyes lighting up.  taemin nods & takes another bite as jonghyun answers the call.

“hi!”  the slow fall of jonghyun’s face from joy to confusion to fear makes taemin’s blood run cold & he drops his half-eaten cookie onto his plate.  “where?”  another pause & he rubs his wrist in worry at the tightness of his boyfriend’s voice.  “we’re on our way.”  the phone is tossed onto the table & jonghyun is halfway down the hall before taemin can even get out of his chair.

“what’s wrong?”, he calls as he moves quickly to follow.

“sodam’s in the hospital.  they’re not sure what’s wrong yet.  she fell down & couldn’t get back up, said her legs were numb.”  a pair of jeans are tugged over his hips & taemin moves swiftly to follow his lead, changing out of his flannel pants into his own pair of jeans.  they are bundled up again & this time in the car as jonghyun drives with white knuckles & a frown across town to the hospital.  taemin wants to say something but nothing comes to mind & “i’m sure she’s alright” isn’t anywhere near the truth: he is scared too.

they park on the blue level of the hospital parking garage & walk the three blocks to the er, jonghyun somehow moving faster than taemin leaving him struggling to keep up through the icy sidewalk.  no one they recognize is in the waiting room & a request to see his sister is delayed by twenty minutes while they wait for the nurse to find her & come back.  when he finally does jonghyun has been pacing silently for seventeen of those minutes & taemin’s wrist is sore from rubbing it with his fingers.

sodam is asleep & jonghyun’s mom is sitting beside her watching.  a decade seems to have passed since he had last seen her, worry aging her youthful face.

“mom.”  the smile on her lips is weak even as he bends down to hug her & taemin watches as she pats his elbow.

“hi, taemin.”  another weak smile & he returns one of his own as he replies, “hi mrs. kim.”

“what happened?”  taemin stands uncomfortably near the doorway watching mother & son & wondering himself.

“they still don’t know.  they didn’t give her anything, she was just tired.  last night was hard for her.  she had a migraine & no matter what she didn’t it wouldn’t go away.  then she fell down & couldn’t move her legs.  they’re going to run more tests soon, they said.”

sodam wakes up & her smile for jonghyun is brighter than that of their mom’s but it’s pretty clear to taemin that she’s doing her best not to worry her baby brother.  a few minutes later she’s wheeled away & hours pass before she returns. 

the good news, they’re told, is that they’ve found the cause.  the bad news, they’re told, is that they found it too late.  on an icy cold evening in mid-december, a week & three days before christmas, taemin listens as the man he loves is told that the sister who is loved more has less than a year to live.

~

“what do you want to do for new year’s?”  jonghyun shrugs & sips at his glass tumbler.  amber liquid splashes inside when it’s placed back on the counter.  the tree with the mementos & stale popcorn no longer sits in their living room & the mistletoe has disappeared as well.  in their place a bottle of hennessey has made an appearance in the cupboard with the pots & pans & glasses taemin doesn’t recognize are often added to the pile of dirty dishes each night.

the first plan had been to ring in the new year with sodam at their mother’s but she had insisted that they celebrate together out in the world.  “go, have fun & then tell me all about it.”  no one acknowledged that this might be the last new year’s celebration they would have a chance to spend together. 

“we could go downtown.  they have a carnival type thing there overnight.  fireworks & music.  it could be fun.” 

“i don’t really feel like leaving the house.”  jonghyun hadn’t gone anywhere but his mother’s house since his sister’s diagnosis.  school was out & he had no work to keep him busy.  taemin suspected he kept as clean as he did only for his sister’s sake.

“ok.  we could just stay in & watch the countdown on tv.”  another non-committal shrug & a sip of his drink.  jonghyun had been drinking a lot since that night in the hospital.  he wasn’t not always sober when they had , though never drunk: he’d only been drunk three times & the only consolation was that he had slept through the night each time.  tonight seems set to be the fourth as taemin watches his boyfriend pour another glass.  he’s not sure how many this is.  there’s a movie playing on the screen as the hours til the new year pass & a bowl of chips sits in his lap.

jonghyun is definitely drunk when he joins taemin on the couch to watch the ball drop in times square.  their midnight kiss is sloppy & tastes of whiskey.  the dishes from his snacks are in his hands & jonghyun’s on his phone texting his sister as the new year begins.

~

“, i’m so sorry!”  jonghyun’s weaving a little as he leans down, eyes wide, hands eager to pull taemin back up from the ground where he sits, dazed.  his head hurts from where it hit the wall & he’s still in shock that it was jonghyun who caused the fall.  he takes the proffered hand & stands up again on its strength, smiling grimly as jonghyun’s glassy eyes dance all over him, nodding when he’s asked if he’d like an icepack.  he watches his boyfriend walk into the kitchen on unsteady feet, fumbling with the icepack as he wraps it into a towel & presses it gently against taemin’s scalp. 

he's not sure what just happened.  one moment he was putting the dishes away & the next he was on the floor & the only thing he knows is that it was jonghyun who put him there.  which is confusing because jonghyun’s never hit him before & he doesn’t know why he did now.  all he had said was to wish sodam a happy new year from him & then there was yelling & he was on the ground.  but now he’s standing & jonghyun’s eyes are wide & nervous & it all seems like a mistake.  maybe he was wrong.

“i didn’t mean to,” he says, watching taemin with sad eyes, “i’m so sorry.”  taemin believes him because it’s jonghyun & he’s never hit him before, barely raised his voice even.  it doesn’t make sense it could be any other way.  he dismisses it & murmurs “i know” as the throbbing in his head is mollified by the ice against his skull, smiling as he accepts the kiss of apology pressed to his cheek.

~

three weeks later & it’s the fourth time he’s been hit, this time it was angry fingers digging into his arm & shaking him so violently he thought his neck would snap before being shoved backward into the kitchen wall; the fourth time jonghyun’s said “i didn’t mean to.  i’m so sorry.”  taemin wants to believe him but now he has doubts.  because now his head aches from where it hit the wall & he tastes blood & his arms burn.  he’s dizzy as he waits on the floor while jonghyun brings him the same icepack from before & presses it gently again to his head.  he lets jonghyun hold him, his body stiff, & he sits still for the kiss pressed to his cheek.  later that night, jonghyun’s arm around his waist, he stares at the wall, feeling the bruises forming on his body & on his heart & he wonders why jonghyun keeps saying & doing things he doesn’t mean.

it's the alcohol, he knows that much, because he only gets mad when he gets drunk.  & he only gets drunk because sodam is sick.  taemin isn’t enough, could never be enough.  not when the true love of jonghyun’s life lays dying in a hospital bed & he can’t do anything to stop it.  & he doesn’t know how to comfort jonghyun.  even seems to be more of a distraction than a desire, something to make jonghyun forget for a moment that his world is dissolving & taemin’s beginning to notice that his body is in every way being used to absorb jonghyun’s rage & sorrow.  he wishes he could do more.

no matter what jonghyun does to him, taemin never cries.  tears haven’t fallen from his eyes in years.  when he was younger he cried, not often but enough: when he fell off his bike, when the play yard bully shoved him into the mud, when he lost the bracelet his grandmother gave him.  that was a long time ago.  he thinks maybe he stopped crying because it made eunsook soft.  he remembers her kissing him tenderly on his eyelashes & cooing at him as though he were a child.  which he was.  it was that extra affection, he thinks, that made the tears dry up.  it would have been easy to fall into her smile & stay there & pretend that they were in love.  he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

& then he’d found jonghyun.  or rather jonghyun had found him & this time it felt real.

even now, even as the truth of their relationship is distorted by slivers of rage & violence, even then it feels real.  the old jonghyun, the gentle one, never fades away.  he holds taemin through the night, tells him he’s clever & beautiful with his soft voice, stands on his top-toes to kiss him on the forehead, & s him gently with the lights on.  but his heartbreak is too much & he’s ceding control to the new jonghyun, the one who gathers up his sorrow & twists it into rage & gives it to taemin to carry; marks on his skin reminders.  taemin watches jonghyun pour himself another drink & thinks about how much pain he’s enduring that he feels compelled to numb it this way.

it’s the only way he can stay.

& he wants to stay.

he doesn’t want sodam to die & he never did but his reasons now are selfish.  months pass & so does what little of her life is left & her slow death is killing jonghyun as well.  taemin prays for sodam’s salvation because it is tied with his own, the cruelty of her fate having turned jonghyun cruel & if he can save her he can save himself & they will both be blessed.  he goes as far as to enter chapels & light candles when he knows there won’t be anyone there to ask too many questions.  he begs the holy mother to intervene because he’s not ready to ask god for a favor.  he dips his fingers into basins of holy water, baptizing himself in the spirit, & waits for a miracle with fading hope. 

~

“do you know where we are?”  taemin’s brow furrows & a little half-smile forms on his lips.

“the bookstore.”

“ok but which bookstore?”

“the one we went to last week & had to stand in line for three hours so you could get an autograph.  too bad you forgot your own name.”

“i got excited.”

“you’re lucky i was with you.”

“i’m always lucky that you’re with me.  now which bookstore are we in?”  taemin snorts.

“how long can i pretend i don’t know that this is the bookstore we met in before you pitch a fit & we get thrown out?”

“time’s up.”

“hmm.”  taemin laughs as jonghyun’s lips purse & he throws an arm around his shoulder & gives it a quick squeeze before letting go.  “happy anniversary.  this time i’ll buy you the drink.”

they laugh & talk as april showers make rivulets on the windows & distort their view of the world.  their feet meet beneath the table in little kicks & & their stomachs are full of warm drink & sticky treats when they wander out of the quiet store where two years ago their fates had been tied.

~

the first of may.  may day.  mayday, mayday, mayday.  it’s too late.  for everything.

jonghyun is with his sister at her last breath & taemin is not: he’s asleep in the bed he shares with her brother when sodam kim dies.  morning greets him with splinters of sunlight that graze across his face until they hit his eyes & force him awake, an involuntary flinch as the bruise on his shoulder grazes the pillow.  the absence of another body beside him is no surprise & no thought is given to it until the absence of another body in the entire apartment & a missing car are noted.  there are no missed calls, no new texts, no indication of anything on the phone in his hand & he calls his boyfriend to see if he’s all right.  the line rings & rings & then it’s jonghyun’s soft voice telling him to leave a message followed by a shrill beep.  twice more & then he sends a text but no response ever comes. 

jonghyun comes home that night a different man than when taemin saw him last, no longer fractured but hollow.  he stands in the doorway & watches as a glass is filled with amber liquid, thrown back, & filled again.  the bruise on his shoulder itches at the sight.  a question should be posed but the danger is real yet to remain silent might be the greater sin.

his boyfriend’s at the table & he’s still on his feet so he moves towards him, reaching out & then pulling back, taking the seat beside the man who loves him.

“i’m going to mom’s tonight.  probably for the rest of the week.”  the glass is left on the table as jonghyun’s footsteps disappear down the hall & taemin listens to the sound of a bag being filled & the lack of invitation for him to come along. 

~

sodam dies on a tuesday & jonghyun comes home on saturday to drive taemin to the funeral.  the ride is silent though at the third red light he takes taemin’s hand & grips it tight beneath his fingers.  it’s a relief of sorts to be needed.  the house is vibrant with strangers & the soft crinkle of jonghyun’s mother’s eyes as she pulls him down into a hug that is warm & soft.  condolences are murmured into her ear & gratitude into his & he leaves as someone he doesn’t know takes his place in her arms.

the corner is quiet as he watches his boyfriend move through the room greeting those who have come to pay their respects, his sister’s friends & their relatives that taemin has never met.  a smile is on jonghyun’s lips that isn’t forced & taemin wishes now that he had more memories of sodam to share with him; maybe then he wouldn’t be so sad when they were alone.

a sigh slips from his lips & he looks down at his feet, starting when he’s met with a woman that had not stood before him just seconds earlier.

“i don’t think we’ve been introduced.  i’m gwiboon.”  no hand is offered between the two & he watches as her eyes appraise him, curious.  the same is done by himself, noting her sharp eyes & soft cheek bones, lips that look like a perfect bow.  the clothing she wears is loose & flowing & five earrings rest in her ears; two on one & three on the other.

“taemin.  i’m with jonghyun,” he replies.  a nod & a smile grows on the bow lips, one that grows as taemin is startled by the sudden weight of an arm around his shoulders.  a flinch & a grimace dance across his face that he hopes goes unnoticed as he smiles back.

“gwiboon.”

“hey jonghyun.”  there’s a tension & a familiarity that taemin doesn’t understand because their smiles seem genuine yet neither of them are moving.  “you look awful.”  taemin’s eyes widen at the remark & at the surprising sound of jonghyun laughing beside him bubbling up & he’s abandoned in favor of his boyfriend’s arms moving around the unfamiliar woman’s waist in a tight embrace.

~

“cousin, dad’s side,” gwiboon explains as she lights up a cigarette.  they’re on the back porch because she’d dragged him with her & he had no reason to say no.  taemin nods, remembering the one time he’d asked & how the light in jonghyun’s eyes shut down so quickly it actually ached to see it dim.

“we didn’t grow up together exactly but we went to the same schools.  sodam was just a few years older than me but we were never close, not like jonghyun & i.  she was cool though.”  a drag & a puff & a sigh.  “life is such ing bull.  their bastard father gets to keep breathing while her ashes will sit on her mother’s mantel.  probably still drunk off his .”  there’s a burn to taemin’s ears & a cold flush in his chest.

“drunk?”  gwiboon looks at him then.  her eyes are confused, cautious.

“jonghyun never told you about his dad?”

“no, i never asked.  parents aren’t...his mom is great.”  gwiboon nods & smiles, the end of her cigarette burning orange.

“that she is.”  the last of her cigarette is tapped into a tin can she had grabbed on their way out the door & she stands, brushing her skirt with one hand.  “we should go back in.”

there’s another two weeks to her stay, an aunt on her mother’s side is expecting a visit while she’s in town & they make plans to have her over for dinner the following weekend.

~

the ride home is dizzying as taemin listens to jonghyun go on about how nice it was to see his sister’s friends, anecdotes of moments taemin missed while he was outside.  he’s excited about seeing gwiboon again & smiles at taemin as he talks about how nice it was of her to come.  he dodges taemin’s inquiry about how they’re related & instead tells a story about her that makes him laugh so hard the car jerks.  he’s with a stranger, a caricature of a man he thought he knew, another piece to a puzzle that makes less sense as time goes on.

especially as the smile that had blessed his face when they had been in a roomful of people slowly dissolves once they’re alone.  he leans against the wall & closes his eyes to the sound of clinking glass.  hope takes him towards where jonghyun stands & his hand hovers above the other’s shoulder, finally resting against his back, moving it around to warm the tense muscle.

“i’m sorry,” he says, though it’s not his fault.  it was never a secret that jonghyun loved her more than him, that her slow death had broken him in ways that taemin had never imagined a person could be & survive: six months to a year is such a short time to say good-bye.  & maybe he didn’t.  maybe that’s why he drank.  the jonghyun who was soft, who loved his sister, who loved taemin, slowly died as well & a new jonghyun, one who was in agony over his loss, was left in his place.  & for that he is sorry.

“you didn’t even cry.”  jonghyun’s hand still grips the glass.  it shakes a little as it rises to his lips. 

“that’s not fair.”   it’s a whispered mistake: he hasn’t cried in years & jonghyun knows that.  why is not relevant & he’s not about to explain now.  to his relief, jonghyun begins to cry.  he turns & buries his face in taemin’s chest & grips him tightly by the waist.  jonghyun crying in his arms is heart-breakingly familiar & taemin clings to him; this he knows, this he understands.  jonghyun being sad he can provide consolation for, jonghyun enraged he has no recourse against.     

the single glass poured sits half-full as he leads jonghyun down the hall to their room, to their bed.  both of jonghyun’s hands are held in his as he moves back against the headboard & pulls him down beside him & jonghyun rests his head in taemin’s lap.  tears dampen his leg as sobs wrack jonghyun’s body & he moves one palm up jonghyun’s arm to his shoulder, down to his elbow & up again while the other his hair.  the position is uncomfortable but worth the discomfort when he feels jonghyun relax & his breaths even out.

three days pass before the bruise on taemin’s left side bears new witness to jonghyun’s sorrow.

gwiboon calls him up a day later & asks if he’d be willing to ride around with her because her gps is “crap & i can’t find anything when there’s a north 6^th street, north 6^th ave, & a 6^th street.  who planned this town?!”  the sun is warm on his neck when she pulls up in a little gray car that smells of vanilla when he climbs in.  street names are virtually meaningless but he’s able to direct her to the restaurant listed in her phone & says yes when she asks if he’d like to join her for lunch.

“oh my god these fries are amazing.”  another string of cheese stretches from the white ceramic bowl filled with potato wedges, chili, & melted cheese to , eyes closing as she moans.  he smiles around his straw & tries to not to be too obvious in the way he shifts so that only his right side presses against the back of the booth.

“fank oo foh joning meh,” she says with a palm over , her eyes still closed.  they pop open & her smile is dazzling.  “i love their fries & i wanted to hang out with you again before we’re stuck with jonghyun.  figured why not do both?”  the slurp of her soda makes her giggle as she digs in for another bite.  “fo how ong ave oo bin wif joyun?”

“a little over two years,” he replies with a chuckle.

“how’d you meet?” 

“a bookstore.  helped him find a book.  he bought me dinner.”

“took you home?”  her eyebrows wiggle & a dimple appears in her cheek & he can’t help but laugh.

“yeah.  been together ever since.” 

“does your family like him?”  an innocent question that shouldn’t hurt.

“we’re not close.”  enough of an answer for her to nod & take another sip of her drink.  the bill is paid by her with a firm insistence.  dropping him at the sidewalk in front of his apartment, she thanks him for the company & he her for the meal & “see you saturday” is echoed from his lips as she gives a little wave & pulls away.

an angry jonghyun is who he is greeted with later that night.

gwiboon’s visit with them on saturday is a four-hour affair full of laughter & childhood memories & photographs taemin didn’t even know jonghyun had.  the evening ends with smiles & soft kisses & jonghyun leaning over taemin’s back & breathing “i love you” into his ear as he s him slow & right.  when he falls asleep taemin plays with the little tufts of hair that flit across jonghyun’s skull & wonders, not for the first time, what was the truth.  the cracks were becoming divides too great to cross, chasms that echoed with every beating & falsehood: apologies void of contrition. 

especially once gwiboon knew.

her unexpected return two days after she left their home for dinner means that taemin doesn’t have the time to hide the bruise blooming on his arm as he lets her inside.  it takes her a long time to cover the threshold & when she does it’s with fists at her side clenched so tightly the knuckles are white.  no questions are asked, her eyes fixed on the photographs of them that litter the refrigerator door.

“you need to leave him.”

“he loves me.”  it’s a reflex response, the thought in his head escaping through his lips.

“do you hit him?”  his eyebrows furrow in confusion as he glances at the pictures & back to her.

“of course not.”

“why?  don’t you love him?”  something in the air shifts & he can’t quite think.

“it’s only when he’s drunk.”

“then why is he ever sober?  which one is a choice?”

“sodam was dying...”

“sodam is dead, taemin.  jonghyun drinking didn’t save her.  jonghyun drinking might mean you’ll die too.”  taemin’s head shakes against the threat.  words are not enough to convince her but they’re all he has yet all he can say is “it’s not that bad.”

“yet.”  his phone is resting on the kitchen table & she picks it up, typing on the screen as he silently watches.

“i’m leaving on thursday & i would love to have you join me.  i live on the coast & there are plenty of jobs over there.  you can live with me & we can make our own chili cheese fries.”  the last sentence is meant to elicit a smile but even hers is weak.  “the choice is yours.  you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” 

he’s alone, a bruise on his arm & an alarm on his phone, one that tells him how much time he has left to make up his mind.   the kitchen is cold & silent, not even the hum of the refrigerator to fill the room.  fluorescent bulbs burn overhead as taemin brushes his fingers over the photographs stuck to the fridge with clear circular magnets.  a lifetime of images on display, a visual documentation of the growth & decline of their relationship.  he was so young when it first began, & uncertain.  his smiles are honest but they’re guarded because he was happy & he hadn’t been for a long time.  months pass & his smile grows & there they are at the beach, their arms around each other with smiles so bright they could light a room.  who took that picture, he wonders?  a stranger?  no, he realizes, it was jonghyun holding the camera above them.  there are three in the set & in the third he has his head on jonghyun’s shoulder & their hair blends because jonghyun’s head is resting on top of his. 

he blinks & bites his lips as his fingers travel down & the first hints of their present begin to show.  his smile is still true but now it’s guarded again; upturned lips but no teeth.  the most recent photograph, the one jonghyun took of them during a good day that had lasted a week found him with his lips pressed together in a grimace & his arms around his waist.

it wasn’t fair, he thought, life was destroying them both.  maybe he made it worse.  maybe he was what kept jonghyun from sinking completely beneath his grief.  maybe his presence was neutral & had no effect either way.

if only it were the same for himself.  then maybe he could stay.

~

a bottom lip is bitten beneath gleaming white teeth & jonghyun’s eyes are dark & hooded as he takes taemin’s hands.  a little swivel of his hips & a kiss to the crook of taemin’s neck & he can’t help but laugh at his boyfriend’s antics.

“jonghyun, no,” he giggles as fingertips dance up his side: the bruise on his arm is green around the edges now.  “i just took a shower & i’m so tired.”  jonghyun leans in & the smile on taemin’s mouth freezes as the scent of whiskey brushes against his nose.

“come on baby.”  jonghyun’s lips are at his throat & the towel at his waist begins to slip.  he grabs at it with one hand & presses the other to jonghyun’s chest, chuckling nervously.

“jonghyun, stop.”

“don’t worry, baby,” jonghyun replies, one hand the towel & the other at taemin’s shoulder as his lips flutter over the exposed skin.  “i’ll make you feel so good.”  the battle is lost & now taemin stands . 

“no really,” he tries, growing desperate, “i just want to go to sleep.  in the morning.  i promise.”  it’s too late.  there are hands at his & they’re holding him in place, kneading the flesh as jonghyun grinds against his front.  

“i can make sure you sleep through the night.”  he kisses taemin’s neck.  “would you like that baby?  you want me to make sure you have good long dreams?”  he’s moving up taemin’s jaw & he’s watching him do it, kissing back when his lips are pressed.

“yeah,” he breathes, the last of his will drifting off with the dissipating steam, “that sounds nice”.  his mouth opens & he closes his eyes. 

he goes through the motions; nodding, smiling, saying “yes” when he should & focusing on the truth that everything is finite: nothing lasts forever.

~

his skin burns & he’s wet again while jonghyun’s sleeps quietly entangled in the sheets.  numb now, he doesn’t feel anything: no hope, no love, no fear, no trust, no anger.  nothing.

the phone he’d left on the kitchen table warms beneath his palm as he presses her number & waits to hear her voice.

“taemin?”

“can i still join you?”  there’s a pause & the screech of tires.

“yes.  where do you want me to pick you up?”

“at the park down the road.  it’s across the street from the welcome sign as you head into town.”

“i’ll be there in thirty.”

“i won’t have a phone.”  there’s another pause.

“ok.”  he hangs up & deletes his call record, picks up his wallet & counts out the cash inside, stuffing it into his jeans pocket.  it’s the only thing he takes as he leaves his home.

the headlights of a car pulling into the parking lot changes nothing.  it’s gwiboon, he knows, but he doesn’t particularly care, even as he begins walking to her.  he’s rescuing himself in part because it will make her happy he knows, & in part because he has no reason not to.  & that is enough to move his feet across the grass & over the pavement.

gwiboon is silent as she drives them through the moonlit night, the radio turned low to let taemin’s thoughts progress unhindered.  he stares out at the passing scenery, leaning against the frame of the open window with bare feet propped up on the dash.  the evening air is cool on his face & the moon that follows them is so bright it seems false, unnatural.  it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

every passing city is lit with hope, every blackened field a promise. 

he’s in-between lives & too numb to care.  his last memory is a betrayal & the stranger beside him is a faith he no longer has: she may turn out to be just as cruel as the others.  he has nothing left to lose: he takes the chance.  the repayment has already been decided. 

he wakes with a start, the touch of an unfamiliar hand pressing against the bruise on his arm causing him to jerk away.

“sorry, sorry.  usually i ask but you were asleep.  , that sounds awful.  we’re here.”  her smile is grim as she steps out of the car & he’s surprised by how much cooler the evening is when his feet hit the pavement.  it’s a narrow street filled with small houses on either side & the noise of a busy thoroughfare can be heard from two blocks down.  three concrete steps lead them up to a screen door that gwiboon leans on as she unlocks the deadbolt & taemin follows her in with her two suitcases in his hands.

the house is tiny with a sliding glass door behind a square dining table just in front of him, a love seat & a papasan chair to his left, a small kitchen separated from the dining table by a bar with three stools, & a hallway that disappears just beyond the refrigerator.  stained amulets hang in front of the windows & framed mirrors of various shapes, sizes, & colors are attached to every wall.  the luggage is left just inside the door & he locks it at her instruction before following her further inside.  the layout of the kitchen is explained with simple things like the hiding places of plates, cups, & flatware revealed.  a thin closet directly across from a bathroom holds a selection of towels & a fresh toothbrush & bar of soap are pulled out for him from the top shelf.  the final room is a bedroom that is nearly filled with an enormous bed, two tall dressers, & heavy curtains that hang to the floor.

“if you’re comfortable, this is where we’ll sleep tonight.  we can pile pillows between us if you want.  the other bedroom...well it’s sort of my closet.  we can get that moved around & get you a bed in there over the weekend.” 

“no rush,” is murmured from his lips as he moves forward & slips his hands over her hips, his gaze flicking down to & back up to her eyes.  “i want to thank you.   what would you like me to do?”  no one has ever housed him before without taking him into their bed & he doesn’t know gwiboon well enough to assume that she would be any different: he says yes before the question is even asked.

the look in her eyes is wholly unfamiliar before it softens into something he recognizes as sadness blended with amusement, a gentle smile on her lips & her hands gliding over his to move them away from body.

“i’m famished.  would you like a sandwich?  i have some turkey in the fridge.”  he blinks as she begins walking down the hallway & disappears into the kitchen they had been in just minutes before.  the sound of the refrigerator opening & the squeal of a cupboard door jar him out of his confused daze & he follows her down the hall & takes a seat on one of the stools pressed against the counter.

she talks to him while she makes their snack, about where they should go tomorrow & the things they’ll need to shop for.  pen & paper are placed before him & he writes down everything she lists off, answering questions posed to him & otherwise keeping silent.  a plate is slipped in front of him & she asks if he wants anything to drink but he declines.  she eats her sandwich in the kitchen leaning up against the counter next to the stove.  he glances at her frequently through his lashes, muffling any words he might think to say with oversized bites.  the thought crosses his mind that she may have just wanted something to eat before she took him up on his offer.  or she might be angry with him & is giving him a last meal before sending him out the door.  he’s not sure. 

his empty plate is taken with a smile & washed by her hands at the sink, dried off, & placed back in its cupboard.  the door shuts & her back is to him & there’s no reason for her to continue standing there but she is & taemin feels his stomach drop.  when she finally turns around it’s with that smile, the amused one, & there’s a spark of hope he refuses to grasp in case it burns him.

“i’m not good at subtlety, taemin.”  her fingers grip the edge of the counter behind her as she leans against it.  “i’m not great about being gentle with my words.  i’m blunt.  so let me be blunt now.  if you want to show me gratitude you can wash dishes or clean the bathroom or do the laundry.  never think you have to have with me to have my friendship, to stay here.  that is not something i will ever want from you.  ever.  you’re safe here.  maybe you can’t trust that yet.  hopefully one day you will.  don’t worry, there’s no rush. 

“now.  i’m going to go get changed because i’m exhausted.  i have a pair of jinki’s sweat pants & a couple of his t-shirts if you want to change out of those clothes before you go to sleep tonight.”  his forehead crinkles in confusion at the name he’s never heard & he wants to ask who that is but he doesn’t: he’s exhausted too.  instead he nods & says that would be nice, watching as she pushes away from the counter & her footsteps grow faint down the hall.  the sweatpants are soft & dark gray with white stripes around one thigh & a size too big: the t-shirt the same.  he’s engulfed in fabric & it’s nice, like being in stretchy armor.

the bedroom door opens & he waits until she smiles & pulls it open all the way before he enters the room, chest warming when he sees that she has already built a wall between them: an army of purple, red, & gold decorative pillows stand guard from the headboard to the end of the mattress, the most beautiful fortress he’s ever seen.  he audibly sighs as he slips under the sheets, the softest material to ever touch his skin, the bruise on his arm draped beneath.  an extra pillow is handed to him without a word & he hugs it to his chest for balance.  the lights above fade out & a single lamp burns at the other side of the bed.

“good night, taemin,” gwiboon whispers as she lies down on the other side of the buttress of pillows.

“good night, gwiboon,” he replies, waiting until the room falls into darkness before closing his eyes.