Chapter 14: Take All My Preconceptions

He spends the better part of an hour driving around the city.

By the time he returns to the dorm, what started off as a headache has turned into a full-blown migraine.

Mercifully, only Minho is home. Oddly, even though his family home is actually nearby, Minho almost always stays at the dorm. Kibum has always supposed that it has something to do with the fact that his parents are quite strict and formal, and that Minho feels much more at ease at the dorm.

It takes very little effort – which is a good thing, because merely holding himself together takes more energy than Kibum has to spare 2– to casually greet Minho so that he doesn’t suspect anything is amiss. Kibum then heads to the bathroom, locks himself in and turns the shower on; he doesn’t know whether he wants to break something or cry, or whether he’s angry or sad. He just knows that whatever it is he’s going to do, it’s not something he wants his bandmates to hear.

To think that the Lees could be capable of such cruelty. He used to see Kyungsoon as a maternal substitute when he was a trainee, because she was always at home and warm and welcoming where his own mother had been busy with her career and fragile health. When he remembers the way he used to worry about her after Taemin’s disappearance and how he would call every now and again so that he could somehow make up for her missing son, he feels like shattering the mirror over the washbasin. His reflection mocks him.

He remembers how angry he was at Taemin in the weeks after. He remembers wishing that their youngest would have a hard time out there, that things would happen to make him realise just how sheltered and coddled he had been, so that he would realise the value of what he so carelessly left behind. He regrets it now; he wonders how he could have been so sadistic.

He’s finally got an answer to why Taemin left, seemingly apropos of nothing, on that winter day, but it doesn’t bring the closure that he imagined it would.

And in its place, another question forms, no matter how much he tries to tell himself that it doesn’t matter.

Why did Taemin allow Kibum to take him back there?

~~~

Minho is where Jinki left him earlier this morning, planted on the couch with a game controller in hand. The game is now a first-person shooter type thing instead of football, and the packages of snacks littered around the game addict’s body are now empty, but other than that nothing has really changed.

“Minho-yah,” he says in greeting, pausing at the entrance to the kitchen. His mother had packed him enough jajangmyeon and ma po style beancurd for two meals or so, and he needs to put in the fridge and label it so that the thieves he lives with don’t have any excuse to pilfer it. “Have you even moved since I left?”

“Hmmm?” Minho says, not even bothering to turn around to look at him. “Did you bring food, hyung?”

Of course Minho’s spotted the food. Jinki moves the containers in his hands so that they’re hidden from sight. “Oh, it’s nothing much.”

The faint sound of a shower running catches his attention. “Is someone else here?”

“Huh? Oh, Kibum came back. I think he’s showering. What did you bring back?”

“Beancurd. How long has he been in?” It’s not as if they only have one bathroom – in fact, they have four – but the water pressure is always a little low whenever another shower is in use, and Jinki had been looking forward to a nice, hot bath.

“Right after he came back, I think.”

“And how long ago was that?” Key likes to take long showers, so Jinki is in for a bit of a wait the former had come home shortly before him.  

Minho looks up at the clock, and Jinki finally sees a reaction from him that isn’t half-occupied with gaming; he pales, and the controller falls from his hands. “Oh, omo, it’s…” he shakily stands and looks at Jinki with wide, panicked eyes. “Four hours. Hyung, it’s been four hours!”

Jinki almost literally feels his stomach drop. He dumps the containers of jajangmyeon on the dining table and races towards Minho and Key’s shared room. Minho’s long legs have taken him there first, and he throws open the door violently. “Kibum!” he calls out, rushing towards the closed bathroom door.

Even before Minho’s fist closes around the doorknob, Jinki knows that the door will be locked.

“Kibum!” Jinki joins Minho in pounding on the door, hoping that the person inside is at least capable of answering. Four hours; anything could have happened in four hours. “Open the door.”

Minho has reared back, ready to kick down the door, when the shower goes off. They wait for a moment, processing the meaning of this, and Jinki can hear the pounding of his heart in the stillness of the room. The bathroom door opens and Key comes out, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel.

“What?”

“Uh…” Minho’s lost for words and turns to him to make up an excuse.

“You were in there for quite a while,” Jinki says, studying his dongsaeng. Key is certainly wet, but he doesn’t smell of his distinctive shampoo or shower gel, his skin is pruny and his eyes are red. Like he’s been sitting under the spray of water crying instead of bathing. “We were wondering if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” the words slip out so fast that it must be a lie; a practiced lie well utilised to fob off unwanted questions. “Long day, I might have dozed off in the shower.”

“Omo!” Minho exclaims suddenly. “I didn’t pause the game!”

When this fails to get a reaction from either of them, he wrings his hands. “You…I didn’t save that level, I’m probably dead by now.”

Key shrugs. Jinki takes his lead and shrugs as well. Honestly, Minho isn’t a teenager anymore to be obsessing over video games. It’s as if the current maknae is mentally frozen at the age at which he debuted.

He runs out of the room, and the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hallway acts as a prelude to the uncomfortable silence that falls between Jinki and Key. The latter stands there, silent, staring at some spot on the wall. Jinki isn’t stupid; the fact that Key hasn’t said anything yet about wanting to change or Jinki being a byuntae means that he’s upset enough to not want to speak.

The problem, of course, is that Jinki doesn’t know what to do with this information.

“You’re sure you’re fine?”

“Yes.”

There is a flatness to his voice that Jinki has only heard a few times before, when things had been really bad.

“I brought some jajangmyeon from home. Get changed and we’ll have dinner with Minho-yah, okay? It’s been a long time since we’ve had a meal together.”

That earns him a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got somewhere to go after this. I’m probably late already.”

It’s as gentle a dismissal as he’s ever gotten from Key.

Jinki leaves, and closes the door behind him. He wants to reassure the younger, to let him know that he is more than willing to listen to his problems and help him figure out a solution, or be a distraction, or whatever he needs. The only reason he doesn’t make the offer is because he knows that he will be turned down.

~~~

Shinchon at night is a scary place, but Kibum can’t bring himself to care about the covetous stares that his car, and he, gets when he parks by the side of the alley in front of Taemin’s flat. Various windows are lit, but he hasn’t figured out the layout of the building and can’t tell whether any one of the windows belong to Taemin. He’s not entirely sure that Taemin will be at home, or whether he will be met with an empty flat. He’s afraid that Taemin’s fleeing back will be the last thing he ever sees of the boy, but if he hasn’t run away yet he will be here; Taemin has always been a homebody.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Kibum tries not to think about Taemin leaving, or how it is entirely his fault this time around.

 There is light seeping through the gap between Taemin’s door and the floor, and Kibum tries the doorknob without bothering to knock; what use is it, after everything that has happened today?

The door opens to reveal the dingy little flat and, more importantly, Taemin sitting cross-legged on his bed. Kibum heaves a sigh of relief, because as long as Taemin is here he can fix this; he will do whatever he needs to undo the damage he’s done today.

Taemin looks up when he enters, but he doesn’t say or do anything. Kibum finds a spot for himself on the narrow bed, and tries to figure out what to say. He’s not the type to be hesitant, but this is not something he’s used to dealing with.

“Have you had anything to eat?” he asks finally.

“Don’t,” Taemin says then, curling up and moving away from him. His hair is remains neatly tied up in a half-ponytail, and despite his white shirt becoming untucked, he’s still beautiful. The only thing that has changed since this morning is the misery in Taemin’s eyes where there had been happiness. “I…I just need to be alone for a while, okay?”

And suddenly, Kibum is angry. He had tilted towards sadness all day, but seeing Taemin so broken and knowing that Taemin knew full well when he let himself be led home that his parents had disowned him causes the rage that had been resting dormant to suddenly erupt.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“About what?” Taemin doesn’t even look surprised at his outburst, just resigned.  

“You didn’t tell me…I mean,” Kibum sputters in his anger, unable to decide which thought he wants to express first. “You…you asked me if they’d want you back if you’d done something wrong, because you knew they were going to react that way. You knew that, right from the start when I told you I’d come with you, so what were you thinking, letting me take you back there?”

“Stop yelling at me.”

It takes all of Kibum’s will not to slap Taemin then and there. The source of his anger draws his knees closer to his chest, as if trying to disappear.

“I’m waiting for an explanation.”

“Honestly, I…I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought, maybe, maybe if you were there they wouldn’t throw me out, to save face, you know? Or they wouldn’t dare say all those things in front of you.” Taemin shrugs. “It’s been almost three years. I thought they would have missed me. I missed them so much, so they must have missed me, even a little bit. Right?”

Kibum doesn’t know what to say. Kyungsoon had looked like she did, but it was clear that neither she nor her husband considered themselves to be Taemin’s parents anymore.

“I guess that’s why you never said anything to your parents, right?” Taemin gives him a bitter smile, and Kibum can see the tears forming in his eyes. “Let them speculate all they want, dress and act as camp as you want, but deny it all the way, huh? You’ve always been smarter than me.”

“This has nothing to do with smartness.” Kibum doesn’t say that he recently came out to his parents, and that they’d accepted the news relatively well and even admitted to not being surprised.

“I thought maybe…maybe they didn’t know what they were doing. Like, I understand if I was a bad son and they were happy to have any excuse to get rid of me, but it wasn’t that. They said it themselves, they overlooked the drinking and sleeping around and how I’d be up late at night skateboarding and how I never cleaned my room and never did well at school and couldn’t be bothered and always expected them to buy me things even though I was earning so much more than them, but of all things,” Taemin pauses to take a breath, and blinks his tears away; watching him hold them back hurts more than it would if he did cry. “Of all things, it’s this? What difference does that make to anyone? Why does it matter so much who I like? How does that in any way change any of the things I did or didn’t do? I don’t understand.”

He stops then, takes a deep, shuddering breath and drops his head on his knees. “I thought they would have changed, I guess. I thought not having me around would have changed their minds.”

“It’s okay,” Kibum says. He feels like ripping his clothes, pulling his expensive watch off and smashing it into bits, and screaming ‘til his throat runs raw, but he forces himself to sound soothing. “I’m sorry for yelling. It’s not that I’m angry with you, I’m just upset that you had to go through that. I would never have suggested it if I’d known.”

“I wanted to tell you. I tried to, so many times.” Taemin looks at him then, imploring him with his expressive eyes to believe him; he needn’t, because Kibum isn’t doubting anything he’s saying right now. “But I couldn’t. I was ashamed. They’re still my parents…I couldn’t bring myself to say that they’re like this. I didn’t want you to hate my family.”

“Taemin,” Kibum interrupts his rambling, but he has nothing to say to the younger, no words that will comfort him, so he puts a hand on Taemin’s knee. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologise to me.”

“I know I should hate them…I wish I could hate them, you know? I tried. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could just hate them and not ever want to se them again. But I just can’t. I still want them to accept me, even though I’m the one who should be forgiving them.”

“How did they find out?”

“I told them. Which wasn’t the smartest idea, but they were asking me about girls and I told them that I liked some guy better than any girl and… I mean, I just never expected them to react that way.”

“And this was-”

“During the Hello promotions. About a week before I left.”

Kibum wants to ask Taemin why he didn’t come to any of them, or to one of the managers, about this, but he supposes that Taemin was trying to protect himself and his family.

“I understand why you had to go,” Kibum says, reaching over to pull Taemin closer to him. “I was so angry for so long, but I get it now. It would have been too much to pretend, wouldn’t it?”

“That…it’s sort of true, I guess, but that’s not exactly it.” Taemin wriggles out of his grasp and backs into the corner again. “I…I went back to get some of my stuff, because I didn’t really believe they would stay angry forever, and they weren’t home then, and on the dining table I saw some brochures for…”

Kibum is alarmed when Taemin begins to shake slightly, and he reaches out to comfort the younger only to have him shy away.

“For camps. Blue Dragon and some others, about dealing with troubled teens and helping with internet addition and curing ‘deviancy’. They…they were saying that the camp admins could arrange for the teens to be taken against their will if they didn’t want to cooperate, and it’s all legal because we’re still minors. ”

Troubled teen camps are something Kibum has heard of, but only in passing in some Chinese news channel in a Shanghai hotel room they’d stayed in after one of their concerts on the mainland. He’s not aware that they have been operating in Korea or that teens could be taken against their will. And when he realises how terrified Taemin must have felt before he ran away, it makes his stomach knot. All of the time he’d spent wondering why Taemin hadn’t come to him with the problem that drove him away, it never occurred to him that maybe it was one too big for him to solve; he’d gotten so used to muttering soothing lies to Taemin’s back that he’d finally started believing them. A part of him is actually glad that Taemin realised that Kibum wouldn’t have been able to help him on his own, because the consequences had he not do not bear imagining.

“I am so sorry,” Kibum says. It’s all he can say.

“It’s not like you did anything,” Taemin says with a huff. “I should be sorry for dumping all this on you.”

“It’s not…there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, you should be sorry for. Except maybe crumpling the shirt like that, I mean, I ironed it for you even though you’re not a schoolchild anymore.”

That lame imitation of a joke fails to bring a smile to Taemin’s face. “Hyung, I…I know you’re trying to help, but I just need to be alone for a while.”

Kibum’s instincts – instincts that have rarely led him wrong - are screaming at him not leave because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see Taemin again, but he understands how the other is feeling. He’s been there before. And as much as he wants to stay, for purely selfish reasons, he understands that he needs to give Taemin his space. If he chooses to leave, if leaving is less painful for him than staying, then Kibum will just have to accept it.

Leaning over, he kisses the top of Taemin’s head, breathing in his shampoo and feeling silky strands tickle his nostrils. “I’m so sorry, Taeminnie,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

This time, Taemin smiles slightly. “Thank you.”

Kibum presses the lock before shutting the door behind him, forcing himself not to dwell on fact that Taemin hadn’t said yes to seeing him tomorrow.

~

He’s almost crossed the bridge to Gangnam when Island Baby – the ringtone he’s assigned to Taemin – starts playing.

Despite having vowed not to fiddle with his phone while driving after Jjong’s accident, Kibum takes it from the console and answers it.

“Taemin?”

“Hyung, I’m sorry…I…”

“Do you want me to come back?”

“Please.”

“Already on the way, you fickle-minded little brat.” There is no heat in Kibum’s words, and he knows that Taemin knows him well enough to be able to recognise that. He makes a U-turn at the end of the bridge and heads back into the lawless urban wilderness that is Shinchon.

On the way, Kibum makes a call to his father, to ask the businessman to call in a favour with one of his contacts. The old man is surprised at the call, seeing how it’s almost midnight, but he agrees to the favour Kibum asks of him.

When Kibum pulls up in front of Taemin’s flat, he stays in the car and calls the younger down. It takes a while, but Taemin eventually shows up beside the car, still dressed in the slacks and shirt.

“Get in,” Kibum says, leaning sideways to open the passenger side door.

“Hyung, I don’t think-”

“We’re just going for a drive. I was surprised to find my car still here and functional just now, and I don’t I want to tempt my luck.”

 It’s a lie, but Taemin is always so gullible and trusting, so he climbs into the passenger seat with no further protest. They sit in silence as Kibum heads for the closest exit to the highway; it’s a heavy yet not-entirely-uncomfortable silence. A silence shared between veterans of a war, Kibum thinks to himself.

“What did Taesun say?”

“Not much.” Taemin shrugs. “He’s the reason I was so careless about coming out. Unlike you or Jonghyun-hyung, the whole ‘not passing on the family name’ thing wouldn’t have been a problem for me. He said he didn’t mind and he gave me some money when I told him I needed to get away. There’s not much he could have done.”

“No. But why didn’t you keep in contact with him then? You and Taesun were very close.”

“Yes, but…it’s a bit difficult to explain. He said to call if I was in trouble, and I guess I wanted to show him that I’d be okay without them, somehow.”

The chatter starts and stops throughout the journey; sometimes Taemin is quippy and bitterly funny, and at other times his voice trembles with emotion and he’s just bitter, not funny. Neither of them have spilled any tears though, and Kibum decides to count this as a victory for them.

Without the usual traffic, the drive to Daegu takes slightly more than an hour when it would have taken two. From there, it takes him a half-hour to locate the community centre that sometimes doubles as training for the local police force. As he pulls up, he recognises the silver Mercedes parked outside as his father’s.

“I thought you said we were just going for a drive?” Taemin raises an eyebrow at him, but his relaxed posture gives away the fact that he’s not bothered by Kibum’s stretching of the truth.

“I had to get you in the car somehow. Besides, you’ll love this.”

Instead of going inside, Kibum leads him to the back of the centre, where there is a large field bordered by shrubbery. It’s dark, but he can make out two figures standing by the fenced edge of field.

“Appa!”

Both figures turn, and the stockier one strides up to meet him. Taemin falls behind him, almost instinctively ducking his head so that his hair covers his face. Kibum slips an arm through his to keep him in place. “Relax, he’s not going to eat you alive.”

He felt guilty asking this of his aging father, but when the man walks up with a spring in his step and a sparkle in his eyes, Kibum stops feeling bad. “Appa, kamsahamida,” he says.

“Not a problem at all.” His father turns to Taemin, and Kibum is mildly surprised to see that he doesn’t recognise his former bandmate at all. Of all of the members’ parents, his have spent the least amount of time with the band, because of the distance between Seoul and Daegu, but it’s still surprising how everyone seems to have forgotten Taemin.

“Hello, young man. You’re Kibum’s friend?”

“Neh, Kim-ssi,” Taemin says, head still bowed. This apparently satisfies Kibum’s father, because he calls out to his friend.

“Yah, Nam Hoon-ah, come and meet my famous son!”

Kibum and Nam Hoon both laugh at that, and Kibum lets go of Taemin to shake the older man’s hand. “Annyeong, ahjusshi.”

“Aigoo, you’ve grown so well,” Nam Hoon says. “I remember when your father would bring you around, you were this small. I always told your father you needed to be fed more meat. I don’t think you even remember me.”

It’s true, he doesn’t, and Kibum just grins sheepishly.

Nam Hoon turns to Taemin and sticks a hand out. “Don’t look so scared, I’ve known him since he was small enough to be carried in one hand. I’ve usually got better manners. I’m Park Nam Hoon.”

“Lee.”

If the reluctance to give a proper name catches Nam Hoon’s attention, he doesn’t let it show. “Well, now that we’ve all been introduced, why don’t we get down to business?”

He walks over to a large bag on the ground, and Taemin whispers in his ear “What are we doing?”

“Releasing stress.”

Nam Hoon returns with two handguns, and Kibum’s father comes closer at that point.

“I’m sure you all know what we’re doing here is very, very illegal, so please try not to kill or injure each other. Tonight, we will be killing old beer cans. Now, has anyone fired a gun before? Oh no, wait, does anyone even know how to hold a gun?”

Kibum’s father looks like he’s going to protest, but Nam Hoon cuts him off. “Ah, obviously I wasn’t referring to you. Are you so petty, Kim-ssi?”

Both boys laugh at the old timers’ bickering, and Kibum steps forward to learn how to fire a gun first. Nam Hoon is a police commissioner now, but he once trained snipers in the special forces and his teaching experience really shines through; they learn relatively quickly how to hold and aim a gun, and how to reload one.

“Well, that’s about it,” Nam Hoon says when Taemin has mastered the proper aiming posture. “I’ve got about six clips for each of you in the bag there, so me and your father will go and have a long-overdue catch-up session, and when you kids are done, you can find us at the parking lot.”

They bow, in unison, as if they’re still a part of the same band.

Taemin runs through his share of the clips in minutes, firing haphazardly and missing more cans than he hits. His shoulders shake and even in the dim light of the field Kibum can see tear-stains on his cheeks; the same tears he’s been holding back all day.

After his last bullet is fired, Taemin hands the gun to Kibum. “Your turn.”

“Ani,” Kibum says. “You take mine. I’m not the biggest fan of any form of sport, and it looks like you really, really need target practice. Like seriously, are you sure you don’t need glasses? Actually, this probably explains your fashion choices-”

A well-aimed punch to his upper arm stops his snarking, and Kibum retaliates by slapping the back of Taemin’s head.

“Yah, you’re not supposed to hit people with guns! What if I accidentally shot you?”

“It’s not ing loaded, is it?”

“Yeah, because it’s your turn.”

“Just go ahead and finish the rest of the clips. And maybe try to hit something this time?”

“I’ll hit you,” Taemin mutters.

The next six clips go a bit slower, now that Taemin has stopped using them to unleash his frustration and is actually trying to hit something. He doesn’t fare much better, of course, and Kibum gleefully takes the last clip to hit more cans than he misses.

“You’ve practiced this,” Taemin accuses.

“Nonsense. Hello, didn’t you just hear the ahjusshi say that he hasn’t seen me since I was as baby? I’m just that awesome.”

“I’m starving,” Taemin suddenly says, and Kibum realises that the both them haven’t eaten all day.

“It’s…just over two. I’m sure something somewhere will be open. I’m just going to go say a few words to my appa, so you can wait in the car if you want.”

~

The two older men are leaning against his father’s car with a half-empty pack of beer on the bonnet. Their chatter dies down when he walks up with bagful of guns and empty clips, and Kibum hands it to Nam Hoon.

“Thank you so much for this,” he says. “I know I must have caused a lot of trouble for you, ahjusshi-”

Nam Hoon waves him off. “What’s a favour or two between old friends? If you want to repay me, you can send me a couple of autographed CDs or something. I’m sure at least one of my daughters is a fan of EXO.”

“Aishh, Kibum’s in SHINee! And they are better than EXO, you know.”

Kibum just laughs. “It’s okay, I know EXO. I can get as many autographed CDs as you want.”

“Nam Hoon-ah, I need a minute with my son.”

“Sure. Let me just put this in my car.”

When Nam Hoon walks off, Kibum’s father turns to him with a look of concern, and lays a hand on his shoulder. “There’s actually something I need to tell you.”

Dread strikes Kibum, because those words never imply anything good.  “Yes?”

“Your umma hasn’t been very well lately. Don’t worry, it’s not serious, but the doctors think that her old heart problem might be recurring. She’s on some extra medication now that should take care of the problem and she’s forbidden me to say anything to you, but I thought you should know.”

Kibum wants to unhear everything his father has said. The air suddenly seems colder, and the ground beneath his feet unsteady. He remembers, as a child, waking up not knowing whether his mother would still be alive. She’d been hospitalised for the better part of his infancy, and he still has vague memories of going to see her in the hospital and being reluctant to leave because her eyes would brim with tears whenever the time came. He remembers being haunted by that vague, uncertain knowledge that each visit might be his last, especially on the days when his appa would send him home with his grandmother first, and stay behind with her.

What is he going to do?

“I see,” he says, nodding vigorously so that he’s have something to do; anything, to distract him from the looming spectre of death that will now hang over every thought of his. “I’ll…is there anything I can do? I’ll keep reminding umma to rest more, and not worry so much about me.”

“Kibum, I…” his father seems to search for words for a while, before saying “You’re a very independent person and we’ve always trusted you to take care of yourself, even when you were still very young. But, you know that your umma and I are always just a phone call away if you need us, right?”

His father’s concern brings tears to Kibum’s eyes, and he looks away. Their relationship is more formal than the ones he shares with his mother and grandmother, but Kibum’s father has always been supportive of his decisions, and where he has not, those objections have always clearly been born out of concern for his well-being. After watching Taemin’s parents tear him apart, Kibum realises that he has never really appreciated how much his parents have done for him.

“Neh, appa. And please don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

~

In the end, Kibum walks into the dorm at six in the morning. He’s almost late for their ride to SM, where they’re scheduled to practice for the BMU tour, and Gyeongshik gives him a warning look as he dashes towards the bathroom for a quick shower. He’s lucky; if it had been Jin, there would have been a telling off in it for him.

For a couple of minutes, he stands under scalding hot water, allowing it to massage the weariness from his aching limbs. How was it that they were able to put up with their punishing lives as trainees, where days without sleep were looked as a matter of course? Or is it just that he doesn’t remember how tiring it was? Once his limbs are no longer stiff, Kibum turns the temperature down until it’s almost icy, because warm baths always put him to sleep and he needs to stay awake for at least half of the practice if the day is going to be of any use.

The phone beeps with a text alert – Seop’s, to whom he’s assigned an instrumental version of Lady Gaga’s Alejandro – just as he’s slipping into his outfit of the day.

Hey you :P How are you? Have a good day and don’t forget to :)

It has been almost a month since he last met Seop, when he’d stolen a couple of hours during the WSS promotions to have dinner with him and Woohyun. Guilt washes over Kibum, for the way he always puts Seop last on his list of priorities. One of the major reasons most idols are unable to date outside of the industry, in addition to the danger of discovery, is that no normal person is willing to put up with an idol’s work schedule. Who wants a boyfriend who barely has the time to text you, let alone watch a movie or go on a holiday with you? He’s lucky, really, to have a boyfriend who is so understanding.

~

A text wakes Kibum just before his alarm goes off. It’s from Seop.

Good morning! Have a great day :)

Kibum rolls over, aware of Minho’s quiet snoring, as he contemplates his boyfriend for the umpteenth time in the past couple of days. They’re a very new couple, still a bit awkward and shy around each other, but there is a strong attraction between them nonetheless. Which is why it is bothering him that it has been a good month since they’ve been out on a date, what with him being all over the world because of their year-end SWCII concerts, but Seop hasn’t pestered him to meet. He’s beginning to doubt the connection he’d felt to the model with the oversized ears, and wonders whether Seop isn’t as excited about this as he seemed to be earlier.

It’s not a pleasant conclusion, but Kibum is not the sort to avoid unpleasant truths; if Seop isn’t actually interested in dating him, they shouldn’t have to put up with this charade.

Hi! Do you want to meet for a quick breakfast?

It takes Seop about ten seconds to reply.

Sure. American diner near your place?

He gets there first, naturally, and orders a black coffee for himself. They’re scheduled to film an interview for MTV around noon, so he has a little time to spare.

Seop walks in, all gracious and handsome, and Kibum’s heart skips a beat as if he’s still a teenager crushing on someone for the first time. Maybe it’s because he’s never had this sort of thing before – this whole courtship and dating thing – because the thing he’d had with Jjong defied the conventions of a typical romantic relationship.

“This is a bit unexpected,” Seop says as he takes the seat next to Kibum. “I would have thought you’d have an interview or concert or something to prepare for.”  He’s smiling as if meeting Kibum is the best thing in the world, and Kibum wonders why his signals are so mixed all of the time.

“I do, actually, but there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Oh.” Seop’s happy expression falters a bit, since Kibum has uttered the dreaded words. “Okay.”

“Listen, I…” Now that Seop is listening, Kibum realises that he doesn’t quite know what to say. “I’ve always believed that truth, no matter how much it hurts, is better than good-intentioned lies. So please don’t try to be nice or spare my feelings, or things like that. When you asked me out, were you interested in, like, a proper relationship or did you mean something more casual, because I thought you meant the former and I don’t want us to carry on with different expectations, you know?”

“Where is this coming from?” Seop looks confused. “Of course I’m serious about us.”

“It’s just, look, it’s been almost a month since we last went out. A whole month. And you haven’t even insisted on going out, the couple of times you asked whether I was free and I said no, you didn’t even ask again, you don’t even text or call me that often, so forgive me if it seems like you’re a bit uninterested.”

It turns out a bit more ranty than Kibum wanted, but he’s laid out his problems. A long silence falls between them, as Seop drums his fingers on the table in thought – and it’s pathetic, that he already knows the model’s tics and gestures when it turns out he’s nothing more than a casual fling to the other – and Kibum sips his coffee for want of something to do.

Finally, Seop asks “Would you have liked me to call you again and again, and to have been offended or made a fuss when you said you were too busy to meet?”

“No, but that’s what people do when they’re in relationships.”

“No, that’s what teenagers do.” Seop leans closer, clasping his hands together on the table. “Relationships are built on trust. If you say you’re busy, I’ll take your word for it. I don’t want to add to your burdens by complaining that you never make time for me when I know what idol schedules are like. I’ve lived for twenty-odd years without knowing you, and I haven’t spent those twenty years wandering around in misery because you weren’t there to complete me. I have friends and hobbies and an online subscription to what feels like every fashion magazine in the world. Sure, I miss you, but I’m not the sort of person who needs to hang out with my boyfriend every waking moment of the day.”

In that moment, Kibum can almost see a halo of light appear around Seop. It’s almost surreal, the way the café around them falls away and all he can see is Seop, like he’s never seen him before. He’s the sort of person he’s dreamed of dating, someone mature and uncomplicated, someone who says what he means; but that he’s always thought was too good to be true. So this is what it feels like, Kibum thinks, falling a little bit at a time.

“Are we…” Seop looks a little nervous now. “We’re still good, right? I’m sorry if this isn’t what you expected in a relationship-”

“Shush.”

“Huh?”

Kibum closes the small distance between them and places a finger against Seop’s lips. “Hush. You’ve just said something very, very wonderful, and I’d like to enjoy in the moment for a while.”

A blush covers Seop’s face, and his ears turn red, but his lips form a smile against Kibum’s finger.

Self-conscious, Kibum withdraws his hand.

“I’m sorry if all of your previous boyfriends were clingy and made you feel bad for not being able to go out with them. It’s not fair, and I wouldn’t ever do that to you.”

~

Seop’s kept his word about not being clingy.

They’ve been together over a year now, and not once has the model been anything but understanding about Kibum’s schedule. If anything, Kibum is the one who has been abusing his freedom, by finding time for Taemin, Jjong and really, anyone but Seop, in the madness that is promoting two Korean albums and one Japanese one in the first half of the year.

The thought replays in his head throughout practice, and the first thing Kibum does when they’re released for the day is to call Seop.

“Hey, are you busy? Can I come over for a bit?”

“Sure. Shall I make dinner?”

“Up to you,” Kibum says. “I’ll be there in half an hour or so, I’m just stopping by the dorm first.”

~~~

When Seop opens the door to the ringing of his doorbell, he doesn’t expect to be greeted by having his ankles nipped and . He stumbles backwards slightly, and Key winces. “Sorry, I should have said I was bringing Comme Des and Garcons over.”

“It’s fine.” He loves dogs, and although he had been hoping for a more romantic sort of evening, it’s nice to just be able to hang out with Key. “Come in.”

He’s barely closed the door when he finds himself with an armful of Key; his boyfriend, for whatever reason, as thrown himself at him and is now burying his face in the crook of his neck. Key is never this affectionate or needy, and that added to the fact that he asked to meet apropos of nothing has Seop worried.

“Are you okay?”

The question causes Key to detach himself from Seop faster than water repels cats, and Seop mentally kicks himself.

“Do I need a reason to hug my boyfriend?”

In response, Seop opens his arms, hoping that the gesture will mollify Key. He’s learnt over the year they’ve been together that Key’s pride is easily bruised, and that the idol doesn’t take kindly to implications that he’s not as independent as he likes to pretend. It works, and Key leans in to press a kiss to his lips.

“So what’s for dinner?”

“Kimchi spaghetti.”

Key’s incredulity is written all over his face. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am. I got the recipe off Seunggie, who apparently got it off Kyungsoo himself.”

“You…you know that nobody actually eats Kyungsoo’s cooking in real life, don’t you? Except maybe Jongin, but he’s like exactly like Taemin and they’re black holes that will eat anything you put in front of them. The thing about Kyungsoo being the band umma - it’s all made up. And kimchi spaghetti is a crime against cooking, I honestly-.”

Seop makes a beeping sound in the middle of Key’s rant; Comme des stops chewing on his sock and Key looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Congratulations, you have passed the test. There’s no way I can date a heathen who thinks that kimchi and spaghetti belong together in any way, shape or form.”

“You’re being really weird,” Key says, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m just overly excited to have you over,” he replies. It’s not quite the truth. He’s trying to be funny because he wants to see Key smile; a proper smile that has his eyes sparkling, not the tired smile that he’s been seeing on the television lately. “My humble home, graced by Korea’s most famous idol!”

“Har har,” Key says, clearly unamused. “I’m half-starved after practice, so if you don’t tell me what dinner is, I can’t be held accountable for my actions after this.”

“Naengmyeon and myeolchi bokkeum.”

“Omo, you are a saint,” Key exclaims, heading towards the kitchen. “Feeeed meeee.”

After dinner, they end up curled together on couch in front of the telly. Key is one of the few people who will watch French movies with him, and this time it’s Amelie. Seop has seen this before, several times, but the movie that he had been waiting to watch with Key, the Passion of Joan of Arc, is a bit of a downer and the last thing he needs in his quest to make Key smile is another impediment.

Not even halfway through, he can tell that although Key’s eyes haven’t wandered away from the screen, his thoughts are far, far away.

Having learnt earlier not to ask directly, Seop takes another approach. There’s only one thing that he knows of that has such an effect on Key’s moods, and he takes a gamble on it being the cause of today’s impromptu date. “So, how’s Taemin?”

Key keeps his eyes fixed on the movie. “He’s…not the best right now, but I suppose things could always be worse. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything like that, it’s just that I don’t want to think about it, and if I’m going to talk about it I have to think about it, you know?”

“Sure, anything you want.” Seop slips an arm around Key’s shoulders and pulls him closer, and Key leans into him. The warmth of their bodies pressed together is a heady wine to Seop, and he finds himself almost murmuring “I’m here if you need me.”

They lapse into silence once more, but it’s not long before Key speaks up. “The Japan tour is going to start soon. I won’t be around much.”

Seop knows this. He’s even got a ticket to the show in Saitama, courtesy of his annoyingly observant mother. “I know, it’s fine. We’ll get by on texting and whatever, we have before.”

Key sighs. “It’s just…I worry so much about Taemin. I worry about my parents and Jjong and my career. EXO beat our sales on every chart that counts, and I hear their second comeback song is even better than Wolf. SM is pushing us hard, but I dread the day they wake up and realise that all of the money they’ve put into promoting us isn’t working, and then we’ll go the same way as f(x) and by the time we have to enlist, no one will even remember us anymore. I worry about how I’m going to support my family without a steady source of income and I worry that I’ll end up doing something I don’t really care about or that I secretly hate because I need money. I worry about my dogs,” he gestures at Comme des and Garcons where they lie asleep atop Seop’s cushions “because they don’t have regular walks or feeding times and sometimes I wonder whether it was cruel of me to have gotten them in the first place.”

Each addition to the list of things Key worries about makes Seop’s heart grow heavier; it’s funny, if he’d been asked how he would feel about his idol boyfriend ranting about how difficult life is, he would have called it pathetic. Now that it’s happening, he wishes he could be that callous, because there is nothing more he wants than to be able to shoulder some of these burdens for Key.

“Key-“

“Wait. Basically, I worry about part of my life, except you.” Key turns to him, eyes earnest. “You’re the one thing I have that I don’t need to worry about. You don’t make me lose sleep. You don’t make me question myself. And I know I haven’t shown it, but I really am grateful for that.”

It’s been a long time since Seop has been reduced to tears, and this is a close call. To hide his emotions, he kisses Key; there is no finesse in it, only need. Key kisses back, somewhat less emotionally, and Seop cannot help but notice that they’ve never kissed like this before. This is different.

When they break apart, Key curls into his side again and snatches the remote from his lap. “I have no idea what’s happening. Do you want to rewind what we’ve missed?”

“Sure.” It’s a meaningless answer; had Key asked whether he wanted to set the world on fire, he’d have said the same thing.

Key fiddles with the remote, complaining under his breath about microscopic buttons and the unfairness of being shortsighted, and Seop takes the opportunity to look at him. He looks different somehow; less ethereal and more human. Less like some mythical rock star and more like an average boy, with hopes and fears and likes and dislikes. It takes a while but finally Seop realises that he’s seeing Kibum, not Key, and that Kibum is the most beautiful thing he has ever laid eyes on. He understands now why Jonghyun finds it so hard to let go, because it’s only been one night and he’s addicted, and the other had been getting high off this for years.

And that is when Seop knows that he’s in too deep, because he wants to be something Kibum worries about as well.

XXXXX

Annyeong, readers!

A bit shorter than the past two chapters, but it's still a pretty long one. 

Just a couple of things: 

First, the thing about troubled teen camps that Taemin refers to: they're real. That thing about them taking away kids without their consent is also real. If you're a minor, your guardians are allowed to make decisions on your behalf, and in the case of a conflict, their decisions override yours. You can challenge such a decision in court, with someone suing on your behalf. Good luck doing that from inside a camp, though. You can read more about these camps here, and you'll see why Taemin was so terrified about them: http://www.cracked.com/article_20843_6-shocking-realities-secret-troubled-teen-industry.html. 

It's not a very long article, so please do take the time to read it. If you're a teen, you need to know what can happen to you. If you're an adult and you know of someone who intends to inflict this on their children, you need to stop them. 

Second, Keyseop. I hope I don't make it seem like I'm bashing Jjong just to make Seop look good, but to me Jjong comes across as a much more intense, sentimental and needy sort of person than Seop, so I incorporated that into the story. 

Next update: Not in the next two weeks, I can guarantee as much. 

Also, if you find grammatical errors, please point them out to me. 

Finally, does anyone want to design a poster for this? It's a bit shameless to ask, but I have zero talent when it comes to graphics, and I do get jealous of all the lovely posters I see on other fics.