They pity him, Taemin’s fans do. But he’s never needed their sympathy, and he doesn’t need it now.

His gaze catches on the newspaper left so thoughtfully for his perusal as he waits to finish filming “Sayonara…” Years of study effortlessly translate the kanji into hangul, and he could read the thing if he really wanted to, but something’s got Taemin feeling lazy and he turns to Naver instead, his lips curling into a sneer as he scrolls through endless Naver headlines:

“Meet Krystal and Kai, K-Pop’s Newest Superpower Couple”

“EXO's Kai And F(X)'s Krystal Lose Fans”

"f(x) Krystal and EXO Kai Dating Causes Big Problems?"

When he skims the title of the last one Taemin actually laughs aloud and is then quick to cover his own mouth in surprised embarrassment. There’s no one else in the room with him; still, he’s shocked at such a slip in his personal control.

Big problems? He thinks scathingly. If only netizens knew what Kai really liked, what he let Chanyeol do to him back then when they were all a little younger and less experienced than Taemin would like to think he, at least, is now. What big problems might Kai meet then, if the whole world knew?

It’s a dangerous trail to follow, especially since Taemin’s fully aware how closely Kai’s situation aligns with his own. The EXO dancer is much more submissive than Taemin, who, regardless of his partner’s gender identity, has always been equal parts demanding and commanding in bed. And Taemin’s not edgy enough, or stupid enough, or, frankly, by violence enough, to inflict the kind of punishment on Kai’s body that Chanyeol liked to.

But Taemin…Taemin is certainly an enigma to many—perhaps even to himself. And he likes men at least as much as he likes women, if not more—though both he approaches with the same certain amount of disdain he applies to all things in life. What big problems might he meet if someone were to spill his secrets the way someone’s just spilled Kai’s? No matter how much his life and Kai’s might overlap in circumstances, Taemin realizes this is a question he’s never considered, an entirely possible situation that has never even occurred to him to think about. He also realizes now that maybe, if this happened to him, he wouldn’t care.

His manager texts him to come out, that they’re ready for him. Taemin closes his Naver app but doesn’t put an end to his thoughts, these questions about Kai and himself circling endlessly on a loop in his mind for the rest of the day’s filming.

It’s exhausting to spend time contemplating the situation of another, even when those thoughts never veer anywhere particularly empathetic or feeling. Taemin goes to bed right after dinner, but makes sure to post a cutesy maknae pic with carefully mussed bedhair, the hotel comforter artfully arranged to best display his collarbone and bare shoulders, and a lazy peace sign tossed up last minute.

“Congratulations to the happy couple,” the first half of his caption reads. It’s bland show of support, mindless almost, but it’s not what sends netizens and kpop fans around the world into a tailspin. Instead, such reaction arises from the second half of Taemin’s caption, from his bitter words born from a realization that he doesn’t care what happens to him, that he’s arrogant enough to believe the world will love him anyway, and that he’s prepared to do anything to alleviate the boredom, even if he’s not the only one who’s likely to fall.

Taemin smirks as his fingers fly across the keyboard. He tags his two fellow idols’ official Instagram and writes to Krystal specifically: “May your romance with Kai be as hot and hidden as mine once was.”