Yay for speedy typing!... even though I think some of you may hate me for this chapter

“Do you even know what you’re talking about?”

Taemin took a deep breath to steady the urge to scream. “I know damn well what I’m talking about. You don’t, because you’re too thick to see what’s happening right behind your back. Or actually, right in front of your face.”

“And how do you know so much about the petroleum industry?” The kid questioned with an obvious flicker of fear of maybe he had missed out on the certain sort of knowledge to top Taemin and outweigh the bad.

“Because I don’t spend my time with my head up my . Listen, watch, and don’t eat what the media feeds you.” The senior class of Speech and Debate was silent.

The kid opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and opened it again with a regained stamina and support to stand on. “You’re just lost because your side kick isn’t here anymore. What was his name again?”

Some girl with a bad haircut and a personality to match piped up, “Kim Jongin.”

“Yeah. Him.”

Taemin’s blood boiled. “Jongin has absolutely nothing to do with this; you’re pulling irrelevant things from nowhere. You sound like a politician.”

The teacher laughed.

The kid stumbled over his words, “You’re alone on this one. Jongin isn’t here. So sit down, and stop acting so high and mighty.”

“Jongin isn’t linked to this issue at all. Is that really all you have to say? And Jongin believed in an oil addiction, not an energy problem.”

“How the hell would you know that?”

“Because Jongin and I dated.”

The room was quiet. Taemin had blurted it out without really thinking. The kid he was arguing with raised his eyebrows, as he had finally gotten an answer that passed in his abilities to reply.

A few kids who had always argued against him, regarding homouality, stared down at him as though he had defiled the code of humanity. Their eyes spit on his feet. Others were just plain shocked. But Taemin concentrated on his twiddling thumbs instead of the (what felt like) hundreds of eyes judging him. If anything, he was proud to have been Jongin’s, to be Jongin’s, to be himself, and he didn’t care who knew.

Even though there had been a long silence, the teacher acted as though nothing had happened and continued with the lecture. One of the kids who had always disliked Taemin mouthed the word “” when the teacher had his back turned. Taemin just smiled to himself, knowing that kid will never experience the kind of world revolving love Taemin has, knowing that Taemin had won before anything had even started.

~~

That same afternoon, after school, Taemin had gone to the Speech classroom again to organize and prepare for some bull event he really didn’t want to attent, as his involuntary role as president. It usually took a while to prepare, but Taemin was glad to have something productive to do with his time.  He began sorting through papers, and trying to solve the puzzle of how to direct the tournament. After a few minutes, he suddenly heard a very surprised voice in the frame of the doorway. “Hey Taemin!”

Taemin looked up. Minho stood with his backpack hanging off one shoulder and a bright shimmer of some intangible emotion in his eyes. Taemin had been so focused he didn’t even heart the door open. “Oh, hey. What’re you doing here?” Taemin got a little excited, as he thought this would be a great chance to form a friendship.

“The teacher wanted to discuss my grade with me. Is he here?”

“He went to a meeting. He should be back soon.” Taemin smiled and then went back to sorting through papers.

“Hm. Really,” Minho replied with false incredulously. He looked around the room before walking over and casually taking the seat next to Taemin. He looked from Taemin’s concentrated eyes to the stack of papers before him. He then leaned forward in his chair as if about to share a very confidential secret or ask to use an eraser in the middle of a test. “Hey, you’re pretty smart, right?”

Taemin flickered his eyes towards Minho’s direction. “People think I am.” Minho smiled and shrugged. “Well they must have good reason to.”

Taemin didn’t respond, only because he wasn’t sure of what to say. He didn’t know how to form friendships, and he was extremely anxious around people he didn’t really know. But Minho didn’t seem too bothered by it.

“So, then, Taemin, do you think you could, maybe, tutor me sometime?” The innuendo in his tone screamed obvious, along with the raise in his voice. But Taemin was way too oblivious and way too tired of deciphering subtle hints. “I would love to, but I’m pretty busy. But you know, Chen does pretty well in this class. Maybe you should ask him instead.” Taemin smiled again; proud of himself for thinking he had said the right answer.

Minho’s smile faded, and his next question sounded more like a statement. “Oh, well maybe sometime we could chill afterschool?”

“That’d be fun, but I have to work on all this every day.” Taemin held up a thick portion of the papers to emphasize how tiring and boring it was. He felt bad denying all these times to hang out, but they were honest answers.

Minho brought his hand to his mouth and his chin for a few moments. He inconspicuously scooted his chair closer to Taemin, and looked at him in the sort of way that makes even bachelorettes doubt themselves and intimidates children. “Why don’t I help you out then?”

Taemin shook his head, oblivious. “Nah, I gotta do this alone. I don’t even think you’re allowed to be here without a teacher.”

Minho looked out the window, whilst Taemin believed he had totally blown all chances of gaining a friend. A few minutes went by and the awkwardness grew as Minho continued to look at something out the window. Suddenly he spoke up, his voice a little louder than before, and a little more cut to the chase.

“You’re gay, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean you basically announced it to the whole class.” An equivalence of duh.

Taemin just stared at him, unsure of what he was implying. Usually when someone confronted him for his uality, it didn’t end well. He then shuffled the papers, paper-clipped them together, eyed Minho suspiciously a few times, and then stuffed the papers into his bag. “I’m not really comfortable with this. I’m think I’m gonna head home.”

He stood up from his desk, but Minho mirrored his movements. Standing up to face Taemin and blocking his way out in the narrow row of desks. The shimmer in his eyes turned into a reflection of determination itself. “Taemin, I like you. And I mean like you.”

Taemin finally got it. His reaction ranged between a mixture of disappointment and flattery. Disappointed because he actually thought someone just simply thought he was cool and wanted to hang out with him. Flattered for obvious reasons. It was actually kind of nice, to be chased this time and not always chasing. No matter, Taemin would just have to decline gently, head home, and hope to still be on good terms. He should’ve listened to Kibum.

“Oh, uhh. That’s really sweet, but, I kinda already have somebody else. But I appreciate you telling me.”

He then picked up his bag and swung it around his shoulder, feeling much more awkward as Minho continued to stare at him, obviously unconvinced and unsatisfied. Taemin tried to make his exit, but Minho moved in front of him, stopping him. Instead, he put his hand to Taemin’s chest and pushed him closer and closer to the wall.

“Yah, what are you doing?” Taemin tried to shrug himself free but Minho’s grasp stiffened until Taemin was now pinned up against the wall.

“You sure about that someone else? You seem pretty lonely to me, Taemin.” He began lowering his head to Taemin’s, his eyes focused on Taemin’s lips. His raspy voice unpleasing to the ears, and compared to the smooth, charming voice Taemin was used to, it almost hurt to listen.

“Get the off me!” Taemin shoved his hand to Minho’s face. He wanted nothing more than to be free from Minho, free from that god forsaken room. He continued trying to pry Minho’s hands off from his chest.

But Minho tried a different approach. He nudged his head between Taemin’s neck and shoulder and used his free hand to cup Taemin through his jeans.

Time slowed. No, time froze.

It wasn’t that he enjoyed being touched by Minho, but he had desperately missed being touched by another, specifically Jongin. And for a moment, Taemin was instantly transported away from that room and into his memories. He automatically imagined it was Jongin’s loving touch, Jongin’s perfect fingertips. Minho had disappeared. His mind traveled further and his eyes closed on their own. He imagined Jongin’s pink lips, the way he looked at Taemin as they made love, Jongin’s warm breath, and finally Jongin’s words that sang the most beautiful melody: “I will always protect you. For as long as I live. You are mine.”

Completely lost, Taemin arched his neck and moaned out a long whine, “Jongin-ah….”

And that’s when Minho finally pulled away, though only a few seconds had gone by.

Taemin snapped back to reality, and his eyes opened to a very startled and confused Minho. He used this opportunity to make a run for it and slammed his way out the door and sprinted through the hallway, his footsteps echoing throughout the emptiness of that damned school that didn’t do anything for him anymore.

And already, tears were forming in his eyes. He felt absolutely disgusting, and he felt absolutely nothing for Minho. But now he felt even less for him, and he didn't even want Minho as a potential friend or an acquaitance. Was it considered cheating? He didn’t want it, Minho forced himself onto him. But it still happened. This was exactly the sort of thing he was scared of happening to Jongin.  

He didn’t even want to look at anyone besides Jongin. He didn’t want to touch anyone else. All he had wanted was a friend.

His running slowed to a jog, and his jogging settled to a walk. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater and continued down the parking lot. An autumn breeze strolled by and chilled the tears stained to his cheeks. He wished he could just walk to China. He would do it, for Jongin.

As he neared his car, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Who would be calling him? Was his mother calling about dinner? He flipped open the phone and tried to clear his voice enough so it wouldn’t sound as though he had been crying.

“Hello?”

A familiar and silky voice answered. “Hey, Taeminie.”

No way. “Jongin!? What the hell? Isn’t it too early for you to be calling?” This was probably the only time he didn’t want to talk to Jongin in his whole life. Only because of his guilt and frighteningly intense longing for him that didn’t really need to be added too at that moment.

“Yes, it is actually. I’m on a short break from practice,” Taemin then noticed that Jongin seemed to be breathing heavier than usual, “but I just wanted to call to remind you how much I love you.”

Are you ing serious. Any other time but at that moment.

It was all Taemin had needed, yet now he could only bask in his guilt and not the rush of love that entered his heart.

He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. Jongin really does know just what to say, and just when to say it. It’s Jongin’s sort of savoir faire that leaves him with a perplexed mind of sentences waiting to be poured and an ache waiting to be cured.  He felt, again, how undeserving he was to be with someone like Jongin. How neurotic he was with emotions (he will never get the hang of it), how he couldn’t even control himself, and how Jongin could still be so damn suave, such the gentleman, and so pure-hearted. And how he still managed to love Taemin throughout it all.

Jongin was basically a prince, and Taemin was basically a mess. Jongin didn’t deserve any of this. The lump in Taemin’s throat prevented him from speaking and he was already regaining his tears. He tried to wipe it all away. Though they never left.

But Jongin knew Taemin too well. “Minie, are you crying?”

Taemin instantly burst out into sobs, exposing any attempt at hiding regret or just any sort feeling in the mix of his scrambled comprehension. He didn’t speak, he only listened to Jongin’s breath. He longed to feel that same breath down his ear, and shortly following, a handsome whisper that everything’s alright.

“Taemin, what’s wrong? What happened? Did somebody hurt you? Yah, answer me. Are you okay?”

Taemin continued to wipe his eyes. He had almost forgotten how relaxing Jongin’s voice could be.

“It’s nothing, Jongin. It’s just… you’re too perfect. You’re just too perfect.”

~~