001. Broken Memories

Minho holds the little boy in his arms. His fingers the delicate locks of hair that fall over Taemin’s forehead.

“Sshh… It’ll be okay…. Don’t cry,” he mutters.

“B-but… It hurts,” Taemin sniffs as he rubs his nose on the back of his arm.

“Could you let me see the wound?” Minho asks softly, pulling away from Taemin– such that the two are now face to face. His firm hands rub Taemin’s shoulders gently.

Taemin gives a subtle nod, before tugging at the sleeve of his jacket, pulling it back.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Minho lets out a light chuckle, before biting his lips to suppress his laughter.

“Taemin-ah, it’s so small!” Minho’s lips curve upward.

It was barely a scratch.

No blood.

No deep cut.

Merely a bruise that had formed– as a result of Taemin’s carelessness.

The boy’s cries stop abruptly. He looks up at the elder. “What did you say?”

“From the way you were crying, I thought you had injured yourself!” Minho howls with laughter.

“I did injure myself, hyung!!” Taemin yells, stretching out his hand and pointing to the bruise.

Minho pulls the boy into a rough bear hug, almost strangling him in the process. “Okay, okay… I’m sorry.”

He still giggles, though.

~~~

“Hyung,” Taemin whines, “you’re embarrassing me!!” He folds his arms and pouts.

Minho stops bouncing the soccer ball on his head. Instead, he lets it fall to the ground and roll away.

“Huh?” The elder asks, confused.

Taemin merely frowns and gestures to the back of the soccer field, where rows of 6-year-olds stand and point at the two.

“They’re my friends, hyung!!” Taemin rolls his eyes, “They’re laughing at you because you look stupid!!!”

Minho holds his chest in a vain attempt to look insulted.

And Taemin groans– obviously frustrated– stomping his foot on the grass.

“Taemin!! Come and play with us!!!” a boy from the group of children calls out, waving his short, stubby arms in the air.

“I’m coming!!” Taemin hollers, before scampering over to the other kindergarteners.

Minho watches as the younger’s oversized uniform shorts gradually grow muddier– from the dirt that Taemin is kicking around.

Thump.

He shakes his head slowly– a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, as he observes the boy’s clumsy stagger.

~~~

Taemin walks pass the entrance of the school with a nervous gait. He bites his lip unknowingly, and his fingers fiddle with the hem of his new school uniform.

He looks up at the building in front of him.

High school.

A living hell.

The fortress of evil.

The teenager sighs inwardly. He looks down at his neatly ironed attire and spotless white shoes.

And with a firm clench of his fists, and gritting of his teeth, Taemin takes determined steps into the school hallways.

He looks around, his eyes skimming the new place with an air of hesitation.

But he is glad– because, in the sea of unknown, he spots one familiar face.

“Hyung!!” he calls out, waving frantically amongst the crowd of people pushing against his tiny frame.

And Minho seems to hear him clearly. He turns his head ever so slightly– only to see a flustered Taemin attempting to push against the flow of students.

The elder grins broadly, and Taemin cannot help but notice how muscular and brawny the other had grown to be, over the summer holidays.

Taemin scans the way the other’s uniform fits tightly against his chest and torso.

The pants that frame his long legs.

The loose tie that hangs around his neck.

The tie–

How it looks so perfect on him.

The tie–

How Taemin isn’t wearing one.

The sudden realization hits Taemin rather harshly. He looks down with panic, hoping against hope that he was wearing a proper school uniform on the first day of school.

Minho notices the other’s anxious expression.

Thump.

“What’s wrong, Taemin-ah?” he questions softly.

Taemin shakes head, trying desperately to hide his fear, “N-nothing… I just forgot my tie, that’s all…”

“Then why do you look so nervous?”

“I FORGOT TO WEAR MY FREAKING TIE!!” Taemin screams dramatically, angry with himself.

How could he have forgotten it on the first day of school?

Taemin hangs his head low, ashamed. “I’m sorry….” He trails off.

Minho chuckles at the boy’s overdramatic reaction, before taking off his own tie and swinging it around Taemin’s neck.

“There,” he whispers, “are you happy now?”

~~~

“Hyung!!!” Taemin calls out– barely able to contain his excitement– as he opens the door to the house.

Minho scribbles through the last sentences of his essay and rushes down the stairs. “Yeah, Taemin-ah?”

“Guess what my mum made for me this morning!” Taemin practically bounces across the living room.

Minho pretends to give this some thought, tapping his chin before shrugging his shoulders.

Taemin only smiles wider– the skin at the corners of his eyes creasing as he does so. His eyes form tiny crescent shapes, his pupils peeking through ever so slightly.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“CUPCAKES!!!” He exclaims as he shoves a box in front of Minho’s nose.

Minho can smell the cups of sugar and flour and icing and cream, but Taemin takes the box away too quickly.

He opens the box and arranges them neatly for Minho to choose.

“Which one do you want?” Taemin asks eagerly, “pick anything.”

“I want the strawberry one.”

Taemin whacks Minho on his head, “Not that one!!! I want that!!!”

Minho juts his lower lip out and rolls his eyes.

“Then I’ll have the chocolate one.”

The two sit quietly, side by side, by Minho’s dining table.

The soft echo of the radio reverberates across the room.

Minho eats his cupcake in silence, watching his friend gorge the whole dessert down his throat.

“Can’t you eat with a little more grace? You look like a pig,” Minho smirks as he taunts Taemin.

“Well, that’s boring, hyung!!” Taemin retaliates. “I should be able to do whatever I’d like!!”

Minho smirk dissolves into a small smile– at the younger’s response. And then, he starts to giggle.

“What?” Taemin’s eyes are wide with curiosity. “What’s so funny?”

“You are, Taemin-ah,” Minho shakes with laughter. “There’s strawberry cream all over your lips!!”

Taemin feels the blood run to his cheeks as he flushes slightly. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the cream away– but only ends up with a bigger mess on his face.

“Here,” Minho grabs a napkin from the table, “let me help you.”

So the elder starts to dab the corners of Taemin’s lips. At first, he is not concentrating.

But then, he starts to stare.

And that is when things get worse.

Or maybe– just maybe– things get better.

Because Minho is too absorbed by Taemin’s luscious and pink lips, to notice that he is too close to the younger boy.

He is too marveled by each crack that folds itself on the plumpness of his lips, to notice that their bodies are nearly pressing against each other.

He is too deep into his thoughts, to notice that their lips are just inches apart.

And just like that, the atmosphere changes with a sudden turn.

Heat encompasses the room and Minho can feel himself breathing heavily.

The napkin has long since been forgotten and dropped to the floor.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Slow heads moving towards each other.

Noses touching.

Sweaty foreheads press against one another.

And their hands gradually find each other.

Fingers interlock.

Nervous shaking.

The distance between their lips slowly shortens.

Soon, there is none.

And their lips are touching.

It is merely two lips moving in flawless synchronization with each other.

A simple kiss.

That is all they need;

before they pull apart awkwardly.

Both blushing, wordless, and completely stupefied.

~~~

“I can’t do this,” Taemin stops in his tracks and faces his lover.

Minho squeezes the younger’s hand in response. “It’s okay. Just close your eyes and ignore the others.”

Taemin nods his head and smiles weakly.

Before he can turn around and change his mind, Minho walks forward– confident and determined.

And Taemin can’t help but to look around and stare at the shocked expressions of his schoolmates, as he walks down the long stretch of halls; passes the thousands of classrooms.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Soon enough, though, the awaited blow comes– like a slap across his face.

Crumpled pieces of paper thrown at the couple.

Laughter and insults flung across the place.

“Faggots!!” a loud shout escapes from across the hallways– and Taemin knows that his life will never be the same.

~~~

Taemin staggers out of the club, barely able to hold the cigarette in between his lips.

Minho pulls his car to a halt, just in time to run out and catch the other as he falls.

He carries the boy and lies him down on the backseat.

Just as he is about to start the engine and take off, he hears the loud sounds of retching.

He smells the stink of alcohol.

And he can’t help but turn around and come face to face with the gruesome sight of his lover throwing up at the back of his car.

“Taemin-ah? Are you okay?” Minho whispers carefully, afraid that any noise might startle the other into a terrible headache.

Taemin takes great effort, but eventually manages to nod his, dismissing the subject and urging the other to start the car.

But Minho cannot stand this.

He cannot watch his lover waste away into nothing.

“Taemin-ah,” Minho turns around from the driver’s seat. “I think you should stop this….”

“S-stop… w-w-what?” Taemin’s coughs make his words almost inaudible.

“This,” Minho gestures to Taemin’s horrible state, “The whole ‘alcohol’ thing. Stop it. I’m starting to get worried.”

“It’s f-fine….” Taemin’s eyebrows furrow in irritation.

And that’s when Minho finally snaps. “FINE?! Is this fine?! Taemin, I’m losing more of you every ing day… and that’s fine?! I can only watch you as you practically kill yourself with this addiction… and that’s fine?!”

Taemin doesn’t respond.

“It’s NOT fine, Taemin!! It’s not!! You have to quit this!” Minho yells, his hands clamped firmly onto the steering wheel, gripping it intensely. His chest heaves vigorously; his heartbeat accelerating and pounding against the restraints of his ribcage.

There is no response.

Taemin simply stares at the other.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Then, there is merely the lighting of yet another cigarette, and the slamming of the car door as the younger runs back into the warmth of his beloved club.

Minho sighs, running his hand through the thickness of his hair.

He waits outside for a few more hours.

And only leaves when he is sure Taemin isn’t going to come out anytime soon.

~~~

It is four in the morning.

And Minho cannot sleep.

He keeps waiting for the swinging of keys.

For the sound of footsteps screeching against the floorboards.

For Taemin to return back to their apartment.

But he hears nothing.

Thump.

Minho is unsure of the time now.

Engulfed completely in the darkness of night, he cannot find the light switch.

All he can do is wait.

~~~

The slam of his apartment door.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Lights flickering on.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

A drunken lover.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

His shivering arms.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Cigarette burns.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Bright red bruises.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Deep scratches.

Thump.

Vomit caught between strands of hair.

Thump.

Taemin is broken.

Thump.

Broken.

Thump.

Broken.

Thump.

THUMP.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

~~~

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Minho jolts awake, his eyes wide with fear as the constant beeping of the machine next to him accelerates.

He looks around frantically, his fingers trembling as he clings to the hand enveloped in his.

In the austerity of his surroundings, he makes out the irregular thumping of Taemin’s heartbeat.

The quickening of machine and increasing noise that it was making.

“Taemin? Taemin-ah? Wake up!!” Minho shakes the body laying on the bed.

Nothing.

Minho feels the tears of panic build up at the rim of his eyes.

But no, he cannot cry.

Crying is not important right now.

Minho calls for the doctors and nurses.

And soon enough, they are rushing into the room, pumping his lover’s heart and fiddling with the buttons and switches– on the billions of machines with wires plugged onto Taemin’s skin.

Minho wraps himself up in a corner, fumbling with his fingers and praying for a miracle.

After ages of panic attacks and fighting back tears, Minho comes face to face with the head doctor.

“What happened?” he dares to speak.

“A minor heart attack. We’ve patched him up to the best of our abilities. Now we just have to hope that he survives the night.”

Minho cannot remember the rest of the hours, or minutes, or seconds. They pass by in a blurry mess of cries, incoherent muttering, and of smooth hair.

He grips Taemin’s hand desperately, willing for it to move again.

The only consolation he has for the remaining hours is the repetitive beeping of the monitor next to the bed– the constant thumping of his lover’s heart.

Morning light floods the skies, painting it a picturesque scene of blue with a touch of white– quite a contradiction to the grey walls of the hospital building.

A sharp intake of breath.

A twitching hand in his own.

The stirs of a lonely child who just wanted love.

Taemin’s eyes flutter open, staring in confusion at the man before him.

Minho is looking straight into his eyes, yet it seems like he is somewhere else.

The boy clears his throat. But his voice is still rough and hoarse:

“H-hyung?”