“I’m not a child anymore, I don’t need you, can’t you ing leave me alone for once?!”

 (You make me look weak, you make me look childish, and you make me look like a fool.

 I can’t stand it)

The words had left Taemin’s mouth on an angry impulse, freezing everybody on their spots. Jinki opened wider his eyes while Minho’s mouth turned into a thin-stiffed line. They stared at the fuming maknae who was standing in the kitchen, facing the almighty Key. Kibum seemed taken aback by Taemin’s violent outburst. He paled and took a few steps back before answering coldly:

“Fine, as you wish. Don’t come crying on my lap the next time you have a problem then.”

“I won’t, don’t worry” Taemin spat.

(I can’t stand being mothered by you because it’s too easy for me to fall back into your arms.

 Too easy to hide behind your back and wait for you to take decisions.

 I need to escape you. )

The tension was unbearable as Key slowly turned around, hurt and anger written all over his features. Minho furrowed his brows when Key silently brushed past him to disappear in the corridor. They stood still until the faint tap of Key’s shoes disappeared. Taemin’s eyes were coldly casted on the door where Kibum had walked out. Taemin and Key’s relationship had been terrible for the past few weeks. They were arguing nonstop over ridiculous things, Taemin claiming that he was an adult and he could take care of himself. Minho knew Key was too protective over the maknae but this was too much. Taemin had started to be rude and purposely annoying toward the diva. He was always hanging out with Jonghyun because he knew it would piss off Key. Taemin had started to snob them, saying he was tired to be seen as child and pampered all the time.

(I know you love me more than anything.

 But I tired of being take care of.

 Can you see me? Can you really see me? Not as a child, but as a man? )

“That’s ridiculous Tae. You don’t seem more mature because you scream at Kibum. You’re just a brat”

“ you Minho”

“You’re stupid. You’ll regret acting like that “

(Taemin should have known that Minho was always right.)

They didn’t speak for weeks after that, until Key apologized to Taemin during a shooting. Minho frowned but didn’t say anything. Jinki sighted mumbling gloomily before trampling on his feet, falling flatly on the floor. Nobody laughed at Jinki’s clumsiness for once. Minho offered him help to stand up while the others rushed to the changing room. Taemin sat between Jinki and Jonghyun in the van. Key took the seat of the front, next to the conductor. Taemin barely smiled when Jonghyun patted his hair with affection. His attention was focused on the white skin of key’s stiff neck.

(I know you love me more than anything, that’s why you cry so much when we scream at each other.

 I know you would forgive me easily if I came back to you. I don’t want to be forgiven.

 I want to be acknowledged.)

Maybe growing up is all about killing metaphorically the parental figure, but sometimes it’s better not to grow up so fast.

****

They stayed late in the practise room that night. They repeated again and again the choreography for their new comeback. The burned smell invaded Taemin’s nostrils before he could hear the fire bell ringing. Smoke was slowly invading the room through the crack of the door. The same door Minho and Jonghyun had passed just a few minutes ago to lead Jinki to the infirmary. He had twisted his ankle doing a complicated movement of the choreography. The lack of sleep didn’t help the clumsy leader. Taemin and Key were alone in the room.

(You don’t know how precious something can be until you lose it, how much you care about people until they disappear)

Rapidly Taemin couldn’t see before him anymore. The thick dark smoke had invaded everything and the flames, too vivid for his eyes, were devouring the walls and the furniture all around them. The heat was unbearable; his blood seemed to be boiling under his skin. They were going to die. They were going to be burned alive in this building. His mind rebelled at this idea; he didn’t want to die, not here, not now, not like that. It was unfair; his lungs were burning from the smoke and the fear.  Kibum started to cough next to him but Taemin was too panicked to care, his brain was not rationally functioning. He could felt tears evaporating on his cheeks, as he stood petrified in the middle of the blaze. He was losing, it as terror crept under his skin taking control of his limbs, brain and breath. Kibum’s hand woke him up from his trance, his pale hand gripping Taemin’s wrist tightly.

“I- I…”

“Put that over your mouth”

Kibum covered Taemin’s mouth and nose with a moisten handkerchief, pressing Taemin’s hand against it. Taemin recognized the handkerchief Jonghyun had offered to Kibum for his birthday. It was Kibum’s favourite. The pink one with little question marks embroidered on it.  His body felt like cotton as Kibum strong grip leaded him toward the next exit. He hoped their hyungs were okay. He had faith in Minho. Minho would protect Jinki and Jonghyun. Minho would save them. More tears ran down his cheeks but they disappeared before even reaching his shin. Kibum’s grip loosened faintly as the diva coughed violently, his slim body bend in half. Kibum didn’t have any tissue to cover his mouth.

“Hyung you-“

“Keep walking tae. If you stop, we’re screwed. We ‘re running out of time”

Taemin followed obediently Key into the corridors of the burning building. Everything was on fire. Whoever had premeditated this arson wanted to destroy everything, them included obviously. He was sweating streams, the drops vanishing as fast as his tears on his skin. His steps were following Kibum’s cadence in a perfect synchronisation. The though made him faintly smile: even in this situation they were synchronised as if the deadly trial time against the fire was nothing more than a new choreography, a deadly one. They hurtled down the stairs to reach the first floor, watching the blazing apocalypse take over everything. The lifts were stuck and the cafeteria was an impracticable inferno. He hoped the others had reached the exits. Maybe there were still people trapped inside the building, he thought of all the trainees, so young and full of dreams, present in the building at this hour.

Several parts of the ceiling had crashed. The building was slowly turning to ashes when they reached the east exit of the building. Kibum tried desperately to open the door that the fire had miraculous not reached yet. It was closed and didn’t seem possible to open it; it was closed from the outside. Kibum cursed, pursing his lips in a thin line before taking Taemin’s hand.

“Move, follow me, we’re going to try the other exit”

 They ran in another direction, slaloming between burning furniture and burned out debris. The building was collapsing upon them. A large part of the ceiling fell a few meters behind them. Taemin muffled a sob and Key tripped, landing painfully on the floor. His left hand landed on broken glass. All the mirrors of this practice room had been destroyed. He cradled his bleeding hand and stood up slowly. They were trapped inside the building and Kibum was losing hope. His lungs constricted painfully in his chest, fighting the loss of oxygen. His eyes, watering because of the smoke, felt upon the terrified face of his maknae, half hidden behind the tissue. He could not give up, Taemin trusted him. He had sworn to protect Taemin back then, during their debuts. He would never let anything happen to him.

“Lay down, we’re going to crawl. There is more oxygen near the floor”

“Hyung I think the door in the make-up studio is not locked, the coordi-noonas were there this morning”

They made their way perilously until the room. The door was not locked indeed. Taemin was too frightened to realise but Kibum did the maths in a second; From the precarious equilibrium he could tell the ceiling was going to crash in the few seconds following the opening of the door and someone needed to hold the girder up to clear the path until the door. The one holding the girder would never escape in time. Kibum didn’t even think twice before taking the end of the metallic pole.

Taemin would make it.

That was enough for Key.

Blood trickled from his wounded hand along the gleaming metal.

“Tae, listen to me, I’ll lift up the girder and you have to crawl the fastest you can to the door.”

“But Hyung-”

“Shh, trust me. Hurry.1, 2,3”

Taemin crawled on the dirty floor, hands scrapping the soot, pushing himself forward with the last bit of energy his tired limbs allowed him. Kibum’s muscles were taut, exhausted by the effort and his skin glowed different shade of red, from the dark velvet-like red of his blood to the reddish orange of the flames reflected in the metal that burned his hand. Taemin turned to look at him just as he reached the door, the ceiling above him cracking dangerously. Kibum smiled from his spot, mouthing “hurry, go”. No matter how much they had fought, no matter how hurting their verbal exchanges could have been, Key would have never let Taemin be hurt.

(Some people mean so much that hurting yourself is less painful than seeing them hurt.)

Taemin couldn’t see the tears on Kibum’s face, the heat drying them before they could even flow, he only saw the bright smile almost as blinding as the fire itself. Taemin couldn’t know it would be his last memory of Kibum either.

He stood up and opened the door, throwing himself forward. His body fell on the asphalt. The sudden intake of oxygen made him dizzy. Behind him the door collapsed, the ceiling crashed and everything turned into flames. Included Kibum.

 “Umma”

“Umma”

Someone kept screaming near him. Taemin wished this voice could shut up because his head was about to explode, blood pounding in his temples. He wished to slice the screaming throat before realizing it was his own voice. His own ing voice was calling Key. A hand gripped harshly his shoulder but he was too numb by fear to feel pain. Brown tormented eyes bored holes in his face and the grip grew stronger on his shoulders. In the depths of his conscious Taemin knew the boy facing him but he couldn’t replace the name on these weary, sharp soot-smeared features.

 “Where is Kibum?”

“…”

“TAEMIN WHERE IS HE?”

Maybe it was the loss in Taemin’s lost eyes and the frantic movement of his fingers, grasping the air in a desperate movement that leaded Woohyun to figure the situation. Maybe it was the lack of answers and the tears of the maknae that helped him to understand. Or maybe it was just because Woohyun already knew it in his guts that Kibum didn’t make it. He was Kibum’s best friend after all.

The sound that came from Woohyun’s throat wasn’t human. It was raw, desperate and abrasive. It was visceral despair blended with anger and terror. It froze Taemin’s body, leaving a painful sensation of guilt and shame. Taemin wondered if he skinned his arms he would still feel Key’s handprint on his wrist. Woohyun seemed to lose the last straw of lucidity he had. Taemin saw him in slow motion. He saw Woohyun run toward the blazing building, diving into the fire and disappearing into the dark and lethal smoke. In his peripheral vision a guy with tiny eyes lost it, screaming and coughing at the same time, and tried to run toward the building too, before being caught by one of s. Taemin recognized the Infinite leader struggling in the embrace of Hoya, the dance machine. They must have been practising there as the SM building was bigger than the Woollim one.

Someone else approached him.

“Tae? It’s okay you’re safe now.”

 Jonghyun’s smooth voice had never seemed so wrong. His hyung didn’t know yet they would be only four from now. He didn’t know yet that nobody would complain about the unwashed dishes in the sink, nobody would make sure Jinki ate before going to musicals, nobody would record Minho’s performances in Dream Team to watch together when the soccer player would return home.

The entire burning was reduced to fuming ashes on which the firemen were desperately throwing water. Taemin’s eyes never left the spot where the door had been.

Nobody would smile to Taemin the same way Key did.

(“It’s okay Taemin, I’ll help you so don’t worry”

“Thank you Kibum-hyung, I didn’t dare ask the manager”

“Anything for you Tae”)

Nothing was going to be all right. Key was dead. Comme des and Garçons would never see their master again because the oh-so pretty Kibum with pale skin and heart shaped mouth was dead and burned. He distractedly heard Minho and Jinki’s voices near Jonghyun but they were muffled by his own voice. The smoke seems to invade everything slowly asphyxiating him while his dehydrated throat screamed in agony.

(Just as Sunggyu kept screaming Woohyun’s name in agony somewhere in the background)

Faces were blurred as the ambulance men took him away from the burning building. Everything seemed to move to rapidly, his senses couldn’t follow the rhythm of the running crowd around him. All he could do was to inhale the black smoke and choke. A body attracted his attention though and a jolt of love ran through him. He could recognize that particular way of moving everywhere. The other made his way toward him hastily, feline limbs moving as fast as they could. Taemin stretched his hands to grip the thin shirt and engulfed the other in a tight embrace, screaming hysterically. His tears dampened the shirt of his tanned best friend and he was sure his nails would leave mark on Kai’s back but the other didn’t seem to mind. Kai was returning the hug with the same intensity to anchor him down.

And then the words came back, struggling to get pass his mouth. Taemin wanted to say so many things to Key. How sorry he was for all the screaming and the tears. How grateful he was for the ironed shirts, for the lunches, for the entire nights Key had spent waiting for him, for all the encouraging smiles and the welcoming arms. How safe he had felt, because sometimes home is not a place but a person.

He screamed those words into Kai’s shirt, half choking on his own spit.

But there was no point anymore.

Then everything faded to black.

(You never know when you might be seeing someone for the last time.

So make sure to tell them you love them before closing the door. )