Part 1:                        Obama

There are butterflies in Taemin’s stomach as he stands on the podium at the Seoul National Staidum with the rest of his bandmates. SHINee had been chosen to represent SM at some international economic conference or another between the United States and South Korea, and Taemin has been anticipating this day for weeks.

He remembers Obama’s parting words to him, words that made no sense no matter how many times he ran them through his head at night, and he wants to ask the President what he meant when he said them.

Taemin is not delusional; he doesn’t expect Obama to pull him out of the crowd of idols and announce to the world that they are in love, but he does hope that the President will have a few words to say to him. He wonders what those words will be – a cruel riddle like the last time or something more straightforward? He doesn’t like to think that it could be an outright rejection.

When Obama delivers his speech, Taemin listens to every word. Well, alright, he doesn’t really understand anything Obama is saying, but it doesn’t matter. His voice is so charismatic that Taemin almost wishes he were an American so that he can share in some of that American pride. Almost.

He knows the speech is done when people start clapping and Obama bows lightly before leaving the mike stand. He makes his way to the rows of delegates standing at the back of the podium, taking the time to greet various politicians and important social figures. The idols stand behind that line, most of them looking bored. Taemin can’t understand their apathy, but he doesn’t care because it means that fewer people are looking at his Obama with googly-eyes; Jonghyun is one of them and Taemin only resists the temptation to decapitate his hyung because there aren’t any sharp implements lying around.

Then Obama starts on the row of idols. Most of them get a quick handshake, but a few, like BoA and Kibum, manage to exchange platitudes with the President in English. Show-offs.

And then, like magic, Obama is standing before Taemin. The words he’d rehearsed in his head dry up before he can speak them, and he’s left blinking owlishly at the man who’s captured his heart.

“Obama-hyung-”

Obama just smiles at him, his intelligent eyes crinkling with amusement. He knows. He remembers.

“Ob-”

Obama takes his hand, shakes it. His hand feels cool and firm and his grip, whilst strong, is gentle. Taemin loses his voice again, and by the time he’s found it, Obama has moved on.

It’s only much later that Taemin realises that Obama had left something behind for him; a scrap of paper that had adhered itself to his sweaty palm. The words are a mystery to Taemin and he doesn’t dare ask any of his hyungs to explain the meaning; he doesn’t want to give away their secret.

It doesn’t really matter, Taemin decides with a smile. Obama clearly cares enough to write him a note. He tucks it away in a little box in his underwear drawer, where he keeps newspaper clippings of Obama. It’s enough for him.

~

“Sir, we have to leave now,” Mark says. “Otherwise we have to apply for clearance from Seoul ATC again.”

The whir of the helicopter’s rotor blades dulls his aide’s voice, but Obama can hear the slight panic in it.

“Let’s go,” he says, climbing onto the helicopter with a heavy heart. Perhaps Taemin had taken his last joke too seriously. He had hoped that his note Meet me tonight at the Park Royal Hotel’s helipad and we can start our new life together would have made clear his feelings for the boy, but perhaps he’s too late.

“Saranghaeyo, Lee Taemin,” he whispers as the helicopter takes off. 

~~~

A/N: this is supposed to be a tribute to/parody of the oh-so-famous Taemin/Obama fic written earlier. If you're the author and I've offended you by writing this, please send me a message.