Chapter 15: The Sweetest of Words Have the Bitterest Taste

“Seop-ah.”

He thinks he hears someone call his name, but it’s probably the figment of a dream. He’s not at home in Daegu, after all.

“Seop-ah.”

It sounds like Key. Probably a nice dream then. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to leave his bed and be recaptured into the dream. It’s a talent of which he is quite proud, this ability to go back into a dream after having woken up in the middle of it.

A sharp pain in his side shatters the dream world completely, and Seop leaps up, wide awake, clutching his sheets to his chest. His brain snaps to attention, screaming at him that there’s an intruder in his house, he’s defenceless-

- until he hears an obnoxious, nasally laugh right beside him.

Key.

Key stayed over last night, too tired to drive home after the movie. He’d wrapped his arms around Seop, insistent on being the big spoon despite his relative shortness, saying “I used to love just sleeping next to Jjong when we were together. Sometimes I wish you lived in our apartment complex, so I could come and sleep over every night. Wouldn’t it be nice, waking up together?”

Nice in Key’s dictionary apparently means nearly giving your significant other a heart attack.

“Omo, your face!” Key still isn’t done laughing. He throws himself back against the headboard, clutching a pillow to his chest and mimicking Seop’s shocked expression. “There’s an intruder in my bed, the dreaded boyfriend monster!”

“Are we done laughing at me yet?”

“Just one more question,” Key says, cheeks dimpled by his smile. “Did you have a dream about Harry Potter?”

It’s a trap, it must be, but Seop can’t figure out the punchline yet. “No?”

“’Cause I hate to break it to you, but your sheets aren’t the Invisibility Cloak.”

“It’s too early in the morning for lame Potter puns,” Seop pleads, wrestling the pillow out of Key’s grasp so that he can cover his face with it.

The pillow is relinquished, but the laughing continues. Key’s gloomy mood appears to have disappeared with the night, and although this isn’t how Seop envisioned going about it, the smile on his boyfriend’s face is no less rewarding.

“Is this how you wake your members? I’m surprised no one has smothered you yet.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised too. It was worse when we all shared the same room. The only person who I never had any problems waking was Minho, because he’d always try to be up before me to prove that he was somehow better than me.”

“Before today, I would asked whether you would kiss Jjong awake,” Seop admits, because he’s still jealous of their closeness. He likes that Key gets along so well with Jonghyun, because it shows that he’s not vindictive, but he can tell that Key still loves Jonghyun with a depth that the two of them don’t share. “But I think I know better now. Poor fellow.”

“We weren’t together then.”

“Ah, so it’s only your boyfriends that you abuse.” 

“That’s what boyfriends are for. Also, I’m borrowing your coat, the purple one by Sneezer Parade. And a t-shirt.”

It’s rare that Key asks to borrow his clothes; normally, he just buys one piece of whatever he likes for himself. Seop knows that he and Jonghyun used to wear each other’s clothes and accessories all the time, and he figures that Key doesn’t want to do the same thing in a new relationship.

“Sure.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but there’s a part of him that is excited at the thought of Key wearing his clothes; in some way, it’s a mark of ownership. He hopes the Jongkey fangirls will notice, get crushed, and wail about the sinking of their ship online.

“I’ll return it before I go to Japan.” There are sounds towards his left, where Key is rummaging through his wardrobe. And then there are shuffling sounds, as Key slips into borrowed clothes. Seop lazes on the bed. He’s not a fan of early mornings.

“I was thinking-”

“Oh God, please no.”

“I will kill you.” Key scolds, right before he sighs. “I was thinking that, if you don’t mind, we could have dinner with Taemin sometime.”

This is serious, and Seop cracks an eye open to see Key looking down at him. “Sure. I’d love to.”

“I’ll call you, then.” Key’s nonchalance is fake, that much Seop can tell, but he decides not to make him more uncomfortable than he already is and closes his eyes. As Key putters around, gathering his things, Seop feels himself drift back into slumber.

A tap on his foot wakes him up again.

“Yah, I’m going now.”

That statement is the impetus Seop needs to abandon all thoughts of sleep. He sits up, ready to slip into his dressing gown and walk Key to the door, anything to extend their meagre time together, but a firm hand presses him back into the bed.

“Just sleep. I’m not some hook-up you need to out of your house. I’ve left breakfast for you outside.”

“I love you,” Seop breathes out, unable to contain himself anymore, but regretting it all the same when the words escape the confinement of his mouth.

Key smiles. “You’re so cute.”

“Don’t forget to take your dogs,” Seop responds, suppressing his disappointment at Key’s answer because, really, what else did he expect?

“What sort of appa do you think I am?” Key grumps. “Don’t forget my babies, he says.”  

The door closes with a quiet ‘click’, and Seop rolls into a ball of self-pity. He’s always considered himself level-headed, and not given to emotional extremes. He’s been in relationships; he’s still affectionate with all of his exes, most of whom are models, but he’s never felt anything like this before.

Is this what love is, he wonders.

He doesn’t wonder for long, because Key’s parting words finally sink in. I’ve left breakfast for you, he had said. He made breakfast.

Scrambling from the bed, Seop runs out to his living room slash kitchen; his flat’s concept is open space. The kitchen, at first glance, looks fine. Upon closer notice, he notices a pan and bowls languishing in the sink and fragments of eggshells on the counter. The salt and pepper shakers have been taken from their usual place by the fridge and cruelly separated. A dusting of breadcrumbs covers everything. A plate of scrambled eggs and toast sits pretty atop the stove, in the middle of all of this destruction.

Seop knows he’s in love when he finds the carnage cute.

~~~

The concept for the Boys Meet U music video confuses him. Jonghyun has always had a preference for darker songs, and he loves the concept of Misconceptions of Me – oh the tragedy, he thinks, because that’s a concept that will never come around again – and BMU is so saccharine that the mere thought of acting these scenes out make him cringe.

Still, for some reason, he’s rather looking forward to it. It’s probably a longing for simpler times, since things are so complicated now.

The door swinging open draws him from his thoughts.

It’s Kibum. He looks apprehensive. Jonghyun sighs inside, because this is exactly what he meant when he thought things were complicated now.

“I need to talk to you for a while.” A pause. “Are you in a good mood?”

Jonghyun shrugs. “My mood is as good as it’s going to get.”

The words aren’t meant to be reassuring, because Jonghyun knows that whatever Kibum is going to say will ruin his mood; that’s why the younger looks like he’s being held at gunpoint. Kibum nods, and locks the door behind him.

“I need a big – huge – favour from you. I’m willing to trade anything for it.”

Now he’s curious. “Anything?”

“Within my power to trade, obviously. I can’t give you a Pokémon, if you’re going to ask for something stupid like that. And you won’t want to, either, because you’ll never get another offer like this from me in your life.”

“So...” he decides to test the waters. “If I wanted the window seat for all of our flights for eternity, would that be within the limits of your offer?”

“Yes.”

“What if I wanted, from now on, to win every argument?”

“Yes, that also.” An eye-roll accompanies that answer.

“Wow, you’re really desperate. What if…what if I wanted you? For one night. To do whatever I want with.”

It’s a joke, but not quite. Jonghyun wants Kibum to know how dangerous it is to offer ‘anything’ to a man who’s still madly in love with him. A muscle in Key’s cheek twitches, indicating that he’s reached the limits of his patience, and Jonghyun nearly laughs because he’s so easy to wind up.

“If that’s what you want.”

And that’s an answer Jonghyun was not expecting. If he’s willing to acquiesce to that, what on earth could he be asking for? “Whoa, hey, you’re not going to ask me to murder someone, right? Because we’re friends and I know I’m awesome, but there are limits to what I can do. I’m not too keen on ending up in jail.”

“No, it’s not anything illegal.” Kibum sighs again; for a moment it looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Jonghyun feels sorry for fooling around.

“What do you need?”

“We’re supposed to have a meeting this week to plan our fifth anniversary showcase. I’m going to propose something, and I need you to support me.”

It’s not what he expected at all. They made proposals all the time, and sometimes SM actually allowed an idea they thought wouldn’t have a chance in hell. For Kibum to be so worried as to offer him anything for his support, it must be one hell of an idea.

“What are you going to propose?”

There is a beat of silence, within which Jonghyun realises that his heart is drumming against his ribs.

“I want Taemin to come back.”

Jonghyun experiences a short moment of complete and utter silence, in which his mind almost short-circuits because he cannot bring himself to believe the words that have just left Kibum’s mouth. He wishes for it to last longer, because the next thing he experiences is outrage. How dare Kibum ask this of him?

“No.”

“Wait, Jjong-”

Jonghyun jumps off his bed and almost runs for the door. Kibum steps between him and his freedom, and he almost shoves Kibum before he remembers how it turned out the last time he did that; his hand hovers in the air for a moment before dropping by his side.

“Let me out.”

“I know you don’t like it, which is why I’m offering you payment.”

“What could you possibly offer me that is, in any way, equivalent to me agreeing to that piece of filth being allowed back into the band? Can you guarantee that he won’t just turn around and run away?”

“Jjong-”

“No, I’m not finished. He nearly destroyed the band once, what makes you think he won’t do it again? Do you care so little about our careers that you’re seriously considering this?”

“He’s going to die out there!” Kibum blurts suddenly, looking as desperate as he had when they’d received that dreaded text message three years ago. “You have no idea how he’s been living.”

It makes him angrier, that desperation. Kibum was the most affected by Taemin’s careless actions, and to see him bend over backwards for someone who hurt him so badly makes Jonghyun want to shake some sense into him.

“I don’t care. Really, Kibum, I couldn’t care less. If he was on fire in front of me and I happened to have a…a bottle of drain water, I’d rather drink it than pour it on him. Now get out of my way.”

Kibum leans against the door. “I’m not asking you do anything for him. I’m asking for my sake. I…I ed up, Jjong, and I don’t think I’ll be able to take it if he leaves again.”

It works. Kibum has always been his weak spot, and Jonghyun has never been able to say no to him, especially when he’s pleading. It’s rare that Kibum blames himself for something, and his every instinct is telling him to give Kibum what he wants so that he won’t sound so vulnerable anymore.

“Fine.”

He knows it’s a bad idea, that if Kibum succeeds it would mean an upheaval of the band’s dynamics all over again, and that if Taemin’s life is as ed up as Kibum seems to think it is, there will be plenty of material for the band’s so-called fans to use against them. He’s just counting on the fact that Soo Man is not a very forgiving person.

Kibum looks surprised, as if he didn’t expect to get his way so easily. “Really?”

“You’ll be paying me back over a lifetime,” he threatens, with the bravado of a man who has clearly lost the battle. Before the moment can become awkward, he turns to walk back to his desk, wishing that Kibum will get the message and go away.

Kibum’s fingers catch the sleeve of his t-shirt, and all of a sudden, he’s being held tightly against the younger’s body. It’s so familiar, the way his face fits right into the space between Kibum’s neck and shoulder and the way his slender arms fit just nicely around his shoulders. In that moment, he realises that he can’t remember the last time they hugged like this; he hadn’t realised just how much he’s missed this.

“Thank you,” Kibum mumbles.

And then he’s angry, because Kibum finds it so easy to play with him; that’s why he’s the one the rapper picked for this ‘favour’, instead of Jinki or Minho. He’s sick of this tug-of-war between them. Everytime he thinks Kibum is letting him in a bit more or that he’s truly forgiven him this time, Kibum always finds a way to show him that he’s nothing more than a convenience to him.

So even though it hurts him to do so, Jonghyun pushes Kibum away. “Look, I’ll support whatever plan it is you’ve come up with, but I don’t like the way you manipulate me.”

Kibum looks stricken, and, Jonghyun is glad to see, somewhat ashamed.

“I’m not blaming you, because I’m the one who lets you manipulate me, but…can you just leave me alone for a while?”

“N-Neh.” Kibum bows a little before leaving. Jonghyun throws himself on his bed in frustration, wondering why the universe is so cruel to the both of them. He hates being mean to Kibum, but the younger hurts him so badly sometimes that he can’t help but lash out.

~~~

For the third time in as many nights, Kibum drives into Shinchon, knowing that he’s pushing his luck with each visit. Even if he doesn’t get robbed or carjacked, there is always the risk that some person with a handy cellphone might spot him and cause yet another scandal to break out.

After making sure that the car is locked, he takes the stairs two at a time to Taemin’s flat; Kibum is a man on a mission now, and so far his mission has been going according to plan.

Things take an unexpected turn for the worst when he reaches Taemin’s flat to find the door slightly ajar. Kibum’s heart skips a beat, because as much as Taemin is careless, an open door is a herald for things much worse.

“Taemin,” he calls, standing outside. His mind unhelpfully plays scenes from movies where people walk into a house to find all the occupants murdered.

There is no answer.

Taking a breath, Kibum pushes the door open. The lights are off, and he fumbles for the switch which he knows is to the right of the door. The lights come on to reveal an empty flat.

The bed is just a frame; stripped of its mattress, sheets and pillows. The microwave and kettle are gone. Some drawers lie open, and those cupboards that Kibum made sure were always full of food are bare.

Taemin is gone.

The strength in his legs fail him, and Kibum sinks to the floor, a litany of no, no, no running through his head. He spoke to Taemin yesterday, and he sounded fine. He sounded fine before he left the first time, Kibum’s memory supplies, which means that Kibum clearly can’t tell the difference between him being upset and happy. He should have come yesterday, instead of going over to Seop’s place. He had known just how torn Taemin was over his parents’ rejection, and despite that knowledge, he’d chosen to while away his time with his boyfriend. No wonder Taemin left him; who wouldn’t?

Kibum knows he should leave, that he’s a ripe target sitting here on the floor in an unlocked apartment, but he can’t make his legs move. With shaking limbs, he drags himself to the wall and curls into a ball, wondering what he can do to reverse this trainwreck and knowing at the same time that there is nothing he can do.

Losing someone, he thinks absently, is like walking through a horror house. You would think that it’d be less daunting the second time around, but since you already know how horrible it is to be scared, the fear just becomes worse.

He doesn’t have the strength to go through this again.

~

The first few days were the worst, because whenever he woke up the first thing in his mind would be that Taemin was gone. He would drag himself out from under Jjong’s arm and slink to the kitchen to prepare a breakfast no one would eat, except maybe Jinki if the leader felt particularly sorry for him. The main reason he got stuck with the breakfast duties was because he used to do it for Taemin; now that he was gone, what was the point? And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

They would go to SM for day-long meetings, where they were meant to hang their heads and apologise for causing trouble, for not being observant enough of their maknae, for failing to prevent something they could not have been expected to foresee. Throughout the day, Kibum would check his phone, hoping against hope that Taemin would send him another text. He’d walk into the dorm with a small sliver of hope that Taemin would be there waiting for them.

The pain is different now; he’s used to waking up to a reality where Taemin is no longer around, and where SHINee is a four-member band in limbo as to their continued existence.

It’s the little things that hurt now, like the twinge he gets in his heart when he’s trying to decide what to make for breakfast and he sees the box of pancake mix; Taemin was the only one who enjoyed pancakes, since the rest of them preferred savoury breakfasts. Or how he nearly calls for Taemin to help him fold the freshly-laundered clothes before he remembers that he’s pretty much the maknae now. It’s how there’s an empty space in the car, one less voice at the table and a hunger in his skin to express the affection Taemin used to demand.

When Jin clears the dorm of Taemin’s belongings, Kibum sneaks down to the bins in the dead of night to steal himself a few reminders; reminders that a boy named Taemin once existed whom Kibum had loved.

~

The door swings open, and Kibum looks up to see a behemoth walk towards him; tall, muscular and covered in tattoos. This is it, he thinks, this is how I die; killed by some gangster in some lonely corner of the world. Hopefully, they’ll dump his body somewhere it’ll be recognised, so that his parents would be able to have some closure.

“Yah, who are you? This is not a shelter, off.”

A little bit of relief washes over him when he hears the guy speak. Kibum realises that he’s probably the landlord or landlord’s enforcer.

“The guy who was here…” he starts, unwilling to leave just yet, but also unsure as to what he’s going to ask.

“What about him?”

“When did he leave?”

A look of recognition comes over the man’s face, followed by humour. “Oh, I know you. You’re that boyfriend of his that keeps coming around, the one with the posh car.”

Kibum shrugs, because being mistaken for Taemin’s boyfriend is a lot less startling than being recognised as SHINee’s Key. Also, he’s never heard a Hyundai Azera described as posh before.

He receives a pitying look. “He’s been playing you, with some other chaebol type. That’s why he moved out – apparently the er’s rented an apartment for him in a nicer part of town. You should have seen the smile on that little ’s face when he came to collect his deposit…sorry, mate, I think you’ve been had.”

And that is when Kibum starts laughing, because he is the world’s most monumental idiot.

~

When Taemin answers the door, it is without the slightest shred of contrition. “Oh, Key-hyung! I didn’t know you were coming.”

Kibum steps inside, closes the door and starts hitting Taemin. “You” each word is punctuated with a hard smack to his upper arm “didn’t” smack “think” smack “you” Taemin avoids the next hit, and Kibum lands it between his shoulders “needed to tell me” and the final blow is so hard that it has Kibum’s palm stinging “that you moved?”

Instead of answering him, Taemin rubs his arm. “That really hurt.”

“Good.” Rage vented, Kibum takes in the sight of Taemin’s new flat, despite having been there when they picked it. It’s larger than the other, with parquet flooring and a proper division between the living room and kitchen. Taemin’s got the master bedroom, the one with the view that he had been admiring when they came together the last time, and from the silence that shrouds the entire house, it doesn’t look like the landlady has managed to convince people to rent the other rooms. “You’re not afraid, staying here alone?”

“I’m not five,” Taemin says, still looking a bit put-out.

“Aren’t you going to throw a housewarming party?”

It’s almost hilarious, the way Taemin perks up so visibly; a smile spreads across his face and he pushes Kibum towards his room, not relenting until the elder is sat on his bed. “Wait there,” he warns repeatedly, before running out of the door.

The room is still sparse, but Taemin’s mess has already begun spreading. A suitcase, with clothes presumably, stands in the corner and it is covered with used jeans and t-shirts. Taemin’s laptop is on the bed and some anime series or another has been paused on. No. 6, Kibum notes to himself, wondering whether it would be worth looking up. Taemin was the one who convinced him to watch the truly sublime Wolf’s Rain, but Taemin was also the idiot who made him sit through Yakitate!, until Kibum had thrown the remote at his head one day when a character died after eating bread that was too delicious. 

Taemin returns with a bottle of wine and two plastic cups, and sets them down by the bed. “Wait,” is all he says before rushing out again. This time, he’s back in the blink of an eye with an oversized bag of dried seaweed, which he rips open and deposits on the floor before sitting down next to it.

“Come on, hyung,” he says, patting the floor next to him. “No eating on the bed.”

“Where on earth did you get the money to buy wine?” Kibum asks. “You barely have enough to eat. I’ve been sneaking clothes into your drawers and leaving spare change in your wallet-“

“I knew it!” Taemin exclaims. “I knew I was getting more change than I should, but I just thought that the people at the supermarket were really incompetent. But about the wine, well, I kept saving up to buy you coffee and somehow I ended up with enough to get this. And I bought seaweed because they’re low-calorie so you can eat as much as you want.”

Kibum takes the plastic cup of wine that he’s handed and taps it against Taemin’s. “Happy housewarming.”

They stay up late, watching random things on Taemin’s laptop and chatting about the mundane details of their lives. By the time the bottle of wine is finished, they’re dancing; Kibum is trying to teach Taemin their Japanese tour routine, but it’s all a mess because both teacher and student are too tipsy to stand up straight.

“Wait, what?” Taemin laughs when Kibum describes the freestyle concept of Start. “You’re going to be singing into a plastic telephone? And Onew-hyung has to be cute on an apple? Omona, how embarrassing.”

“Shut up.”

It’s true that the infantilism makes Kibum cringe as well, but they’d sold their souls to SM when they signed their contracts, and things could be worse; at least there wasn’t any drag planned for them anytime soon, unlike their poor Suju hyungs whose concerts were never considered complete without some poor bastard or another being forced into a dress.

When the midnight hour passes, they get beer and chicken delivered to the flat, and somehow Kibum manages to convince the delivery boy to pick up some fruit soju on the way. They dig into the soju first, reasoning that it would be best to drink the more expensive alcohol while their tastebuds could still appreciate its sweetness.

After two shots, Taemin sheds his t-shirt.

“You still do that?” Kibum folds the t-shirt and uses it as a pillow, because Taemin refuses to let him get one from the bed.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think you’ve changed so much, and then sometimes it’s like you’re,” he measures Taemin’s pre-debut height with his hand “this age again.”

“Oh.”

“That tribal dance you were trying to sell me the other day,” Kibum segues, because he’s curious, because he hasn’t had enough alcohol to take the edge off the memories yet and also because the sight of Taemin’s bared ribs makes him want to turn away “why don’t you show me?”

“Like, now?”

“No, tomorrow. Of course now.”

With a sigh, Taemin heaves himself off the ground and fiddles with his laptop. A moment later, odd music plays. It takes Kibum a little while to recognise it as Arabic-sounding.

With a hint of redness in his cheeks, either from alcohol or embarrassment or a combination of both, Taemin starts swaying to the exotic beat. Again, it takes Kibum a while before he recognises the familiar-ish moves; the side-to-side sway of Taemin’s hips and the swirling of his hands.

“Belly-dancing?” He exclaims in English. “You didn’t know you were belly-dancing?”

The redness in Taemin’s cheeks deepen; he’s clearly embarrassed. “People tend to get the wrong idea when you mention belly-dancing. And it is a sort of tribal dance!”

“What’s the wrong idea? And what’s the right one?”

The only answer Taemin deigns to give him is a whine. It doesn’t satisfy him at all, because this is a story he wants to hear.

“How on earth did you learn belly-dancing? And why?”

“I was hanging out at some bar in Chengdu, and there was a dance competition. This was more than a year after I’d left, so I’d begun to grow my hair out and people couldn’t recognise me. It was so long since I danced that I thought, why not, and of course I won-”

“Of course.”

“The next thing I know, some creepy guy comes up to me and asks whether I’d like to be paid to dance professionally for a very discreet audience. He had a couple of young girls on his arms and he said I could talk to them about the job. When they started talking, I realised that they thought I was a girl too, and that the job was to dance for a bunch of oil tycoons staying over in China for a month or so. The Chinese businessmen wanted to impress them, so they’d procured a group of…of belly dancers to entertain them throughout their stay.”

“And you agreed to this?”

“Mmmm. We all stayed in serviced suites, shared of course, we were fed three meals a day, and all we had to do was dance for an hour or so each night. I learnt from a couple of the girls who were professional dancers. It was a good job, okay? The Arabian guys were a bit sleazy, and they were constantly inviting us to their rooms, but they never did anything to us in the conference rooms and most of the time they were too busy discussing business stuff to flirt.”

“And nobody realised you weren’t a girl?” Kibum can’t tell whether Taemin is winding him up, because the story is too fantastical, too Arabian nights, to be true, and yet, he can’t detect a lie in the younger’s face.

“I wasn’t the only one pretending. There were about twenty five dancers, and apart from me, there were two other boys.”

“I’m supposed to believe that some person paid to keep twenty five people housed, fed and clothed for a month just to please some oil tycoon?”

Taemin laughs, and takes a long drink of soju. “That’s barely the most expensive thing they’ve done, believe me. Try shipping white tiger cubs from Siberia so that his kids don’t get bored, that’s the one that impressed me. Or paying for a greenhouse to grow mangosteens because he couldn’t bring himself to eat frozen ones.”

“.”

“Yeah. I liked the cub, her name was Niloufar.” The delicate name is mangled by Taemin’s accent, but Kibum catches it nonetheless. “I hope the Arabians took her when they left. They’re really arrogant and manner-less, but they’re not cruel to animals. If they left her there, I think she’d have been eaten by now.”

“They didn’t…” Kibum’s throat is suddenly dry, and he runs a hand up Taemin’s arm; the same arm he’d smacked earlier, noting the slight redness to the skin. It might bruise, he thinks absently. “They didn’t hurt you?”

“No. It was disgusting, the way some of the men would run their hands over us as we danced, and try to grab our skirts or make us take money out of their pants, but I wasn’t anyone’s favourite, so I didn’t get a lot of attention. And like I said, they were too busy with business.” Taemin looks for another bottle of soju, and Kibum realises that they’ve drunk their way through the soju. “Half the time, it was as if the dancers didn’t even exist. Like we were furniture.”

“I’m sure they couldn’t take their eyes off you when you danced,” Kibum says, remembering how jealous he used to be of Taemin. There is no one in this world more beautiful than Taemin when he dances, and Kibum is sure that no oil tycoon, no matter how obscenely rich he might be, could be apathetic in the face of that beauty.

“Of course not.” Taemin tugs his socks off. “I’m so thirsty.”

They get to work on the beer.

Before long, they’re so tipsy that Kibum digs through the storeroom to find a mop and a broom so that he can teach Taemin the Dream Girl dance. Taemin indulges his seemingly sudden interest, not knowing that Kibum is in fact vetting him to see how difficult it would be for him to become SHINee’s dancing machine again. By the time they collapse onto the floor, both drunk and tired, Kibum is sure that reintegration will not be a problem at all.

Then again, he’s known that for a long time now.

~

Taemin’s hunger leads them to seek out street vendors, and Kibum leads him to his favourite mandu stall in the clubbing district of Daegu. There’s a bit of a crowd by the stall, but it doesn’t take long before they’re digging in to hot mandu in companiable silence. Another stall nearby sells dakkochi and they share a stick of that, finally feeling the return of their appetites that had eluded them since the fateful trip to Cheongdam.

They stand in companiable silence on the street, enjoying the food and watching parties of people walk in and out of clubs. No one recognises them, to Kibum’s relief; he feels free, like any other young adult out on a weekend.

“Let’s dance,” he says to Taemin. “I haven’t been clubbing in ages.”

Taemin shrugs. “Sure.”

They squeeze into a place Kibum knows plays underground hip hop and dubstep, a place that considers it beneath its dignity to play kpop, and which doesn’t serve the fruity cocktails that they both love so. They blend into the crowd, buzzed, and Kibum lets himself loose; his dancing is raw and visceral. Taemin keeps up with him, popping and locking like his life depends on it, and swaying his hips in a way Kibum has never seen before.

And then, right in the middle of a track with a heavy bass that has Kibum’s head booming with each beat, Taemin starts to dance to Lucifer. It clashes with the music, and he gets glares when his elbows meet flesh, but that doesn’t stop him. Kibum is about to stop him, because this is going to attract too much attention, when he steps a little further back and starts imitating Kibum’s dance in Sherlock. It’s executed perfectly, and before Kibum can react – while he’s still processing the fact that Taemin must have practiced this a hundred times over to be this good - he moves on to Stranger.

Kibum hauls him off the dancefloor and into the men’s room, and locks them in a stall.

“What the hell was that?”

Taemin still looks somewhat high. “I…I was once in SHINee, you know?”

Scratch that, he’s off his face. Kibum mentally notes that his alcohol tolerance seems to have taken a dive.

“Yes, and now you’re drunk. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“I won’t ever forget,” Taemin says, allowing Kibum to steer him out of the stall. They get weird looks from the other patrons, probably because Taemin looks like a girl and this is the men’s room, and because he is drunk and Kibum isn’t and it probably looks like something happened that shouldn’t.

“I know you won’t.”

“I’m living just to spite them,” he says, as Kibum straps him into the car. “I’m not going to be one of those gay kids that kill themselves rather than bring the family shame.”

“That’s good,” Kibum replies, for want of anything better to say. Was Taemin suicidal at some point? What luck kept him from killing himself?

“But what’s the point? Hyung, what if you were happy once? Like, happy and fulfilled and you loved your life and wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

“Taemin, please shut up.”

“And then you find out that, for the rest of your life, no matter what you do, you’ll never be that happy again. What’s the point of living anymore?”

“Taemin, you’re not going to be miserable forever.” It’s a lie, because Kibum knows exactly what Taemin is saying; he’s wondered the same thing before, after all. “You’re just drunk, okay? I promise things will get better.”

That makes Taemin smile, and he slumps sideways in his seat to lean his head against Kibum’s shoulder. “You know, everytime you said that, you were always right? That’s why I always came to you.”

Kibum ignores the guilt that claws at his insides, and tells himself that he will find a way to make things better.

~

The fluorescent lighting of the room suddenly seems too bright, and Kibum closes his eyes. He’s in for a major battle soon, where winning is almost impossible and where even victory will bring its own losses. The things I do for you, he thinks.

“Taemin-ah,” he drawls, deciding that the maknae can repay his kindness by fetching him some water.

There is no response. Kibum’s eyes snap open, to an empty room. “Yah, Taemin.” He hears the slight edge of panic in his voice and chides himself for being so reactionary; as if Taemin’s going to disappear in the short moment he’d let his guard down. “Taemin!”

“Mmmm?”

The sound comes from the door, and Kibum looks up to see Taemin standing there with a packet of melon milk in his hands. The sight is so jarringly cute, and so familiar, that an obnoxious laugh escapes Kibum’s lips before he can control himself. “Aigoo, did the baby need a bottle of milk before bedtime?”

Taemin walks over and kicks him lightly. “I don’t like the aftertaste of beer, okay? Why were you calling me?”

“I wanted water. Be a good dongesaeng and get your poor, hardworking hyung some water.”

The dongsaeng in question practically throws himself onto the floor, as if he could plant himself there if he did it hard enough.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he proclaims.

“Why are you so useless?”

Taemin scoots forward on his elbows until the top of his head bumps into Kibum’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, hyung,” he says, somewhat more gently than he did earlier, and Kibum’s heart skips a beat. Had he sounded that desperate? Or had Taemin finally become more aware of his surroundings and realised that Kibum’s unexpected visit had something to do with the fact that he’d moved without telling him?

He settles for ruffling Taemin’s hair. “How do you feel about having dinner with me and Seop tomorrow night?”

“Aren’t you busy? How is it you have so much time to hang out?”

“Wasn’t it you who said that not having time is just an excuse, and that if you have three hours a day to sleep, it also means that you have three more hours to practice?”

A light blush colours Taemin’s cheeks. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

How can I not, Kibum thinks. I don’t think I’ve admired anyone more than I did you in that moment. “Dress properly. Please don’t embarrass me in front of my boyfriend.”

~~~

Kwan Woo’s eyebrows arch disapprovingly when Seop’s phone goes off in the middle of a shoot. It’s not unheard of, but his manager has higher standards than most and he decides to decline when the photographer asks him quite genuinely whether he’d like a moment to get it.

When the shoot breaks, he pulls the phone from his pocket to see a text from Key.

Dinner with Taemin at Mong Jun Heon at 8?

Without thinking, Seop texts an affirmative reply. “Where is Mong Jun Heon?” he asks, aiming the question at no one in particular, and learning from his stylist that it’s a dim sum place in Apgujeong.

“Why have you been wandering around like a love-struck teenager recently?”

Seop shrugs. “Maybe I am. Anyway, I need your advice. Your ex-girlfriend had a teenage son, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Key has a dongsaeng who he’s really close to, and I’m properly meeting him for the first time tonight. I don’t know how to…I want him to be comfortable with me too. I don’t want him to feel awkward just because I’m dating Key.”

“Oh my God, this is worse than I thought,” Kwan Woo grumbles. “You actually love him. You think you have a future with him.”

“If you’re not going to help me, please leave me alone.”

Kwan Woo sighs. “You know this isn’t going to work out, right? He’s an idol and you’re a model. Do you think you can move in together? Hell, can you even go out together for coffee or a drink together without his fans raising hell about it?”

“You said hell twice in one sentence.” Seop ignores the truth of his manager’s words, because he’s now willing to find a way to make this work.

“Mark my words, this is going to end in tears.” Kwan Woo sighs again. “I don’t know, if you want to have a good conversation with him, maybe you should look for his interests or something. The kid should have a facebook page or myspace or whatever it is children are into these days.”

As far as Seop knows, Taemin does not have facebook, but there still are many, many fansites dedicated to him. He’ll discover the boy’s interests one way or another, and he’ll make sure that Taemin doesn’t feel left out at all.

~

Sometime between the delicate prawn siew mai – Key knows all the best restaurants, really – and the crab roe xiao long bao, Seop realises that he needn’t have worried at all.

If anyone here is a third wheel, it’s him.

Key sits in between him and Taemin, but his body, just like his attention, has been angled away from Seop all evening. The two former bandmates have an odd chemistry to them; they’re cruel to each other, Taemin greeting Key with a barb about how tight his jeans look and Key responding that he doesn’t have to starve to keep a roof over his head. The next moment, they’re insisting that the other takes the best dumpling and making horrible puns in Japanese as if they’ve been best friends since birth.

It’s not that bad, except for the part where they both apparently forget his existence. Key had spoken to him for a bit when they’d been deciding what to order, and Taemin had politely introduced himself, but after that he’d been all but dismissed.

At least, Seop tells himself as he shoves a whole buttered prawn into his mouth, he has the opportunity to observe Key interact with this strange person, and maybe he can learn why, of all people, this feminine-faced, not-particularly-bright boy has such a hold on the unreachable idol.

Key is different with Taemin. The lines around his eyes soften a little whenever he looks at the younger and even when he says something particularly mean, there is a shade of affection in his voice that Seop’s never heard before. Taemin, too, is noticeably different from the person Seop encountered in the comic book store. His smile is wide, and he talks rapidly even though Key doesn’t reply to most of the things he says. It’s almost heartwarming, save for the fact that it’s slowly becoming apparent to Seop that his own relationship with Key is a lot more casual than he had been thinking.

It gets worse when they start feeding each other. 

Taemin takes a bite of a dumpling, and makes a face. “Eugh, coriander.”

“Give it here,” Key says, gesturing with his chopsticks. Taemin holds it out in his palm and Key actually eats it out of his hand. “Why didn’t you say anything when we were ordering?”

“How was I supposed to know that the somandu would have coriander?”

Later on, Key holds out a slice of roast duck to Taemin; again, the best piece on the plate. Seop is reminded of that Chinese proverb that says a father’s love grows cold when there is no food on the table for three days, while a wife’s love grows cold when there is no food on the table for a week.

Instead of taking it with his own chopsticks or offering Key his plate, Taemin leans over with his mouth wide open.

Seop can only watch in horror as Key obliges him and Taemin’s lips close almost seductively over the ends of the chopstick; it makes him feel like a voyeur.

“What’s wrong?”

When he sees Key looking at him with slight concern, Seop realises that he’d been staring. “Oh, nothing…just, the duck looks good. Could you pass me some?”

“Sure.” Key slides the plate across the table, not even bothering to pass the chilli oil that the duck had been served with, and resumes his conversation with Taemin.

~

Hours later, Key stands up. “I’m off to the loo. Shall we leave after that?”

His ploy to settle the bill while they’re waiting for him is obvious, but Seop doesn’t feel inclined to call him out on it today; Key can foot the bill, because he’s paid enough by just sitting through this hell.

When Key leaves, Seop takes the opportunity to make small talk with Taemin. “So, erm, I heard you moved into a new apartment. How is the neighbourhood?”

The look Taemin gives him is one he could not have expected; gone is the cheerful aegyo, replaced instead with icy coldness. “Let’s not pretend we’re going to be friends.”

“I’m not going to come between you two,” Seop says, even though his gut is telling him that Taemin’s affection for Key is not quite what everyone else seems to think it is.

“You couldn’t if you tried.” Taemin leans forward then, and he looks nothing like the shy, adorable guy he was around Key. “I don’t like you. I saw all those photos you posted on your Instagram, bragging to the world about your relationship. How do you think his fans reacted to that? If you really cared about him, you would have kept your ego in check. You don’t deserve him.”

The only reaction he’s capable of right now is gaping like a goldfish out of water. Taemin huffs, and pulls his phone out, signalling that their conversation is at an end.

Key returns to the table just as the silence becomes overbearing. “Yah, let’s go.”

“I suppose you’ve paid,” Seop says slowly, still taken aback.

“Yep.” Key pats him on the back affectionately and says “I’ll see you sometime soon, okay? Thanks for coming out on such short notice.”

“Wait, where are you going?” He’d hoped to take Key back to his place after tonight’s dinner; there are candles in the bedroom and bubbles in the bathtub, because it’s been so long since they’ve been together and he’s craving for a bit of romance.

“I’m dropping Taemin off and then I’m going back. Jin’s starting to complain about me staying out late.”

“Thanks, Hyeong Seop-ssi,” Taemin parrots, although Seop can see the glee in his eyes. What a hateful little brat. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“I look forward to it.” He’s not about to be browbeaten, not so soon.

Key smiles, obviously missing the undercurrent of animosity between them. As a final ‘ you’ to him, Taemin links his arm with Key’s and starts walking to where Key must have parked his car. They leave him standing on the pavement, and Seop stares at the way their shoulders bump together until they’re out of sight. This is a disaster.

~~~

There is something brewing between Key and Jonghyun again. Jinki wishes he could be like Minho, who had dismissed the awkwardness between the two of them that morning with an eye-roll; he’s lived through a thousand little spats already, so why isn’t it getting any easier to ignore them?

Today, they’re at SM to complete the planning of their 5^th anniversary event. He’d expected something a little grander than the mini-concert SM is holding, but there simply isn’t enough time in between their Japan Arena Tour and promotional activities for the BMU album for anything more complex. Lee Soo Man himself is attending the meeting, even though there aren’t any major decisions to make. Jinki supposes the man feels a pang of nostalgia every now and again and likes to be reminded of the progress of the bands he’d nurtured out of nothing.

 Just as they walk into the meeting room, though, there is a visible change to Jonghyun and Key’s body language. The lead vocalist drapes an arm over the younger’s shoulder, and they start whispering to each other.

They’re plotting something. Still, Jinki isn’t too alarmed. They’ve probably got some crazy idea or another, probably something that involves hair-raising fanservice or cross-dressing, and he just hopes that he won’t be dragged into it. He’s never minded that all of his other band members have a preference for boys – although, really, the statistical improbability of having four queer members in a randomly constituted band is mind-boggling – but he’s not the type to express affection physically and he hates having to pretend to in front of the fans.

The meeting is underway when Key suddenly says “I have an idea that’ll make the fifth anniversary the top search across all the networks, if you’re interested, songsaenim.”

Soo Man nods, indicating that he’s willing to listen.

“What if, for the fifth anniversary, SHINee performs as a five member band again?”

Jin chokes loudly, but otherwise the room plunges into silence. Everyone is holding their breath; half of them wondering whether Key really does have the audacity to suggest bringing back a certain someone, and the other half wondering what he could possibly mean.

“Are you suggesting adding a new member?” Soo Man asks.

“No. I’m suggesting we return to our original composition.”

“But Lee Taemin disappeared,” Soo Man says, before turning a sharp eye onto Jin. “Or so I thought.”

Jin is quaking in his seat. On the outside, he looks calm, but Jinki knows him well enough to see the tell-tale signs of stress; the picking of his cuticles and the twitching of his legs, and he feels sorry for him. “Sunbae-nim, he, well, I heard of his return sometime in September of the last year. I haven’t seen him myself, but the members have and I presume that some of them have kept in touch with him.”

“So he asked to come back?” Soo Man turns to Key now.

“Not really, but he would if the position were offered. I’ve seen him dance, you can ask him to come in for an audition if you want, but he’s just as good as he used to be. And his voice has matured, I think you’d be interested in hearing him sing. It can work. I’m not saying this as Taemin’s friend, but as someone who has an investment in this band’s success.”

“Do the rest of you agree to this suggestion?”

Jinki is still collating his thoughts, and Jonghyun cuts Minho off as the latter is about to speak. “Neh, songsaenim. We all know that we’re not as successful as we could be, as we would have been, if we had five members.”

“I can’t believe you!” Minho is practically yelling; he would be, if not for Soo Man’s presence. “He betrayed us. You beat him up the last time you saw him, and now you suddenly want him back?”

“I’m not saying it because I like him,” Jonghyun says. “But the band was better with five, and we need a popularity boost. You may have forgotten, but we didn’t win a single stage for the Misconceptions of Me album. When has that ever happened to an SM band?”

“Hyung!” Minho looks to him. “Tell me you’re not in on this as well?”

Jinki shrugs, and tells Soo Man the truth. “I don’t particularly like or dislike Taemin. If your decision is to let him into the band, then I’ll abide with it. I agree that we might not have suffered as badly as we did with the last comeback if we had four members to rely on instead of three. My only concern is that he’ll leave again, and this time we won’t be able to recover from the scandal.”

“Why can’t I just replace Taemin with someone else? Maybe Sehun or Lay from EXO? You’ve performed with them before.”

Key, unsurprisingly, is the first one to rule out this suggestion. “Not without harming EXO, and that would mean bringing down the ire of EXO fans on our heads. I don’t think SHINee can survive that.”

“Sunbae-nim, bringing Taemin in at this juncture will affect the dynamic of the band. Surely it’ll be obvious to the fans that the members can’t even tolerate each others’ company?”

“Donghae and Heechul can’t stand each other, but it doesn’t come across in their interactions,” Jonghyun argues. Jinki wonders what Key has over him to get him to agree to this. Was this the cause of their awkwardness earlier? “It doesn’t matter what we’re like in the dorms as long as it doesn’t show on stage.”

Soo Man starts drumming his fingers on the table, and everyone falls silent. “I am not pleased to have been kept in the dark about this. I don’t just mean the managers, I’m talking about each and every one of you. All of you knew Taemin was back, and all of you somehow came to the decision not to inform the company. Do I need to remind you all that Taemin broke his contract, and that he’s liable to pay me for the profits I might have lost, and that in withholding this information, you are all accessories to that loss?”

“We made good profits on Sherlock and Dream Girl,” Key protests, and Jinki kicks him under the table. This is not the time to be contrary.

“You’re very fortunate that I like your idea. A four-member band is too small to function properly, and Taemin was the best dancer this company has seen,” Soo Man brings his fingers to his lips in a pose reminiscent of Sherlock Holmes. “Yes, call him in for an audition. Let’s see whether this thing is workable.”

~

The meeting breaks shortly after, and, as expected, Key disappears. Minho takes the chance to turn on Jonghyun.

“What was that?” he demands, having at least the courtesy to keep his voice down.

Jonghyun, to Jinki’s surprise, just apologises. “You know what he’s like when he wants something. I didn’t think Soo Man would agree to it,” he finishes, eyes downcast.

It doesn’t placate Minho at all. “You’re so pathetic,” he spits at Jonghyun. “You think he’s going to take you back because of this?”

Jinki decides to step in before it turns into a proper argument. “That’s enough. We don’t know what Soo Man’s decided, and even if he agrees to Key’s idea, we’ll learn to live with it, just like we lived with the cross-dressing and the aegyo and the Sekyung scandal.”

Admittedly, he’s got an ulterior motive for not being worried. It’s 2013, and their enlistment dates, his most of all, are creeping ever closer. He’s always planned to use his enlistment to get out of the band and back into his family business, so he’s not particularly worried about the long-term future of the band. How much damage can Taemin do in three years?

Jin finds them in the hallway, standing together quietly. Jinki expects to be told off, but their long-time manager just looks tired. “Let’s have lunch,” he says. “At that udon place down the street. My treat. We can forget about dieting today.”

Jonghyun shrugs. Minho shrugs.

“Neh, hyung,” Jinki says, because it’s fallen on him to respond. “Let’s go now.”

~~~

Kibum’s pretty sure that the comic book store’s quiet has never been shattered quite as dramatically as it does when he walks in and starts hollering, at the top of his lungs, “Lee Taemin!”

The girl behind the counter, Jung Jieun – Taemin’s only other friend in the world and the only colleague whom he speaks of with admiration and respect – jumps and drops whatever book she’s reading. The man of the hour makes an appearance shortly after, peeping out from behind a tall shelf, and Kibum despairs at the sight of him. His hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail, completely unstyled, and he’s wearing nothing more than the store t-shirt and black jeans; no make-up, no accessories, nothing. There is nothing idol-like about him.

And yet.

“Get in the car now.” Kibum bows to the shell-shocked Jieun, who is staring at him as if he’s a unicorn that trotted off a rainbow into her shop. “I apologise. I’m just borrowing Taemin for a while.”

She squeaks and knocks her stationeries over before executing a deep, ninety-degree bow. Taemin frowns at the sight as he walks out, and Kibum can just tell that he’s thinking that she never reacted that way to him.

“What is it?” Taemin asks when they’re safely ensconced in the car. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry it had to happen like this,” Kibum starts, because he truly did expect to have more time to ease Taemin into the idea of returning to idol-dom, and also because it’s as good as start as any “but you’re going to have to make a very important decision right now.”

“Yes.”

The interruption throws Kibum. Does Taemin think this is a game? “What?”

“Yes, I’ll elope with you.”

Incredulous, Kibum turns to be met with Taemin’s dazzling smile.

“YAH!” He smacks Taemin’s knee, hard. “Stop fooling around. This is serious. I… Soo Man is willing to take you back into the band.”

There is no response. As expected, Taemin looks puzzled, even slightly distressed. “What?”

“I asked Soo Man whether he’d be willing to take you back into the band, and he asked for an audition.”

“Wae?” Taemin all but hollers then, throwing his hands out in askance. “Why did you even ask?”

“Truthfully? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because we haven’t been SHINee since you left. Maybe I think we’ve got a chance at competing with EXO and all the other rookie groups debuting at the moment if you came back.”

“I…I can’t-”

“I’ve never known you to be a coward. So you can stop with the self-doubt and denial. We don’t have the time and anyway, you’ve always been relentless in chasing what you want.”

When he responds, Taemin’s voice is quiet. “How do you know this is what I want?”

It makes Kibum want to laugh, honestly. Taemin might as well have asked him how he knows his dogs need feeding or how he can tell that his grandmother is unwell by just speaking to her over the phone; he just does. “You wouldn’t have learnt Sherlock or Dream Girl otherwise. You wouldn’t have kept on singing, not the point where you can rival Jjong. You wouldn’t have joined a ing harem just to be able to dance.”

“Alright,” Taemin concedes. “I’ll audition.”

“Good.”  It’s one word, spoken without even looking at the other, but Taemin, judging from the shy smile on his face, seems to know how much his agreement to audition means to Kibum. The battle is not halfway won yet – the PR people might decide that Taemin’s past is too stained, too scandalous, for him to renew his contract with SM, and there’s the matter of the broken contract itself and the penalties attached thereto – but Kibum feels victorious nonetheless. And despite having learnt not to be so casually optimistic, Kibum allows himself to bask in that victory.

~~~

Jin still cannot quite bring himself to believe that Soo Man allowed Taemin to revive his contract with SM. He hadn’t been there when Kibum had brought him in for his audition, having taken the other members ought to lunch, and so hadn’t seen whatever magic it was Taemin had to have performed to win Soo Man over. The PR people aren’t been happy about it, but none of the managers had been able to extract any information from them about how Taemin spent his years away or why Soo Man had allowed him back.

They’d spent the day re-arranging the dorm to accommodate the returnee; Kibum, Jjong, Jinki and himself. Minho had helped at the beginning, but he did so with such churlishness that Jin had secretly called Nickhun and begged him to ask his boyfriend-in-all-but-name out.

Taemin would be rooming with Kibum, there was no question about that. Minho had been given the room across the hall which normally belonged to whatever manager was staying with them, but they hadn’t had a live-in manager for many months now and the room had thus been sacrificed to placate Minho. Instead, Jinki had graciously agreed to the insertion of an additional bed into his room for the odd occasion when a manager would need to stay over.

There is an air of unease in the dorm; Jinki and Jonghyun appear to have resigned themselves to having Taemin around and having to refrain from killing or otherwise injuring him, but there’s no denying the fact that having him back will change their dynamic yet again.

Kibum left about half an hour ago to collect Taemin and his things, and they should be back sometime now. Jin feels a little annoyed at the way Jinki and Jonghyun appear to have accepted the fact of Lee Taemin’s return, because it will make him look irrational when he’s unable to accept him.

As one of DBSK’s managers, he had learnt to be harsh, to be authoritarian, because young idols are stupid and they need a firm hand to keep them in line. And then he’d been given the head managerial duties for SHINee, and had walked into the room to find five young boys – children, really – looking up at him with expectant faces and nervous limbs, and he’d unlearnt everything he’d been taught. He wasn’t very good at showing it, but he thought of those boys as his own children, especially Taemin. He’d been mindful to praise the maknae, and to show him affection, knowing that their schedules meant that he’s be spending more time away from his family than was healthy for someone so young.

So if he’s bitter, Jin feels that he has the right to be.

All of that righteous anger, though, goes out of the window when Taemin walks into the flat. All of the anger and hurt, all of the doubt over them working together, dissipates when he sees Taemin, looks into those eyes that were once familiar and realises the depth of emotion masked behind them. Whatever crimes he had committed against the band and the company, life has punished Lee Taemin more than any of them ever could.

“Well, it’s best that you get settled in quickly,” Jin says to him, because Jonghyun and Jinki are silent, and Kibum is slowly starting to bristle behind Taemin. “There is a meeting with the choreographers at 8am tomorrow, but you’ll have to be up at five because the stylists want to have a look at you.”

“Neh, hyung-nim,” Taemin says, bowing slightly. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. Jin remembers a time when Taemin would call him Jinie-hyung.

“Come on, the room’s this way,” Kibum says after that, leading Taemin away from the living room. The door closes behind them, and the tension slowly drains from the room.

“I’m making dinner,” Jin announces, knowing that he will drive himself crazy if he doesn’t occupy himself with something. “We’ll eat at seven.”

As he goes into the kitchen, he hears Jonghyun complaining to Jinki “He couldn’t even be bothered to greet us.”

And Jinki’s voice in response. “You don’t have any right to complain. Anyway, isn’t it better that he’s ignoring us? Do you want him to try and be friendly with you again? I’d rather not.”

~

Dinner is awkward. Minho still isn’t back, a fact for which Jin is grateful, and the five of them sit at the dining table to eat a simple meal of japchae and grilled chicken strips. No conversation is made, save for ‘pass that’ and ‘thank you.’

In the silence, Jin takes the time to properly observe Taemin. He’s certainly grown, now standing as tall as Kibum and as broad as him in the shoulders. His hair is shockingly long, especially for a person who used to complain about being mistaken for a girl, and dyed auburn, although a good inch of roots is now showing. But most of all, there is a dullness in his eyes and a tightness to the corners of his lips that he’d never imagined he would see in Taemin.

Towards the end of the meal, Kibum takes the crispiest piece of chicken still remaining on the plate and wordlessly deposits it in Taemin’s bowl. Taemin blinks in confusion for a moment before smiling brightly at the elder, and in that moment Jin sees the same kid who used to sit at this very table and smile that same brilliant smile at Kibum.

For better or for worse, Lee Taemin is back.

XXXXX

Well, that's a long one. There's been quite a bit of Taekey in this chapter and the two others before it. The next one, not so much. And don't worry even if I don't update for a long time, because I've got the entire story in skeletal form, so even if I die or something, you will know how the story plays out and ends. 

Please do take the time to leave a review. The most difficult part about writing this is getting the characterisation correct, so it would help if my readers can let me know which parts of the story strike them as Jjong/Key/Tae being in character or out of character. 

That being said, wow, what a month it has been. I don't think I've recovered fully from SWCIII yet.