Who knows why I did it. Even as I followed him down the hall, apparently on our way to a place to drink, I didn’t know why the hell I was walking away from the very destiny I’d convinced myself was waiting for me back in that room…

            “What’s your drink, hyung?” asked Taemin as we settled into the barstools. He had a place in mind to go, but I had an even better place. When it came to drinking, I knew exactly where I wanted to be. “I peg you as a soju man.”

            I managed a cocky smirk. Until now, I hadn’t broken my frown the entire time we’d been together. I both hated his efforts as much as I was intrigued by them. “I don’t drink soju.”

            “No? You seem so traditional. Serious. I would have thought that would have suited you.”

            “I don’t drink soju,” I repeated, looking away from him this time. “Not anymore.”

            Not since we used to drink it together. I won’t touch the stuff ever again.

            “Oh? Sounds like a story in itself. Okay,” he said, shifting the conversation, “what about sake—?”

            I threw him a foul expression. “Isn’t that basically the same?”

            Taemin shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you like Japanese liquor better.”

            “I don’t even know what I’m doing here…”

            This is stupid.

            “Hm… okay, then. Beer it is.”

            Honestly, I didn’t care at that moment. I could drink beer all goddamn day and feel hardly anything at all. If this kid wanted to get me full on beer, that was fine. But in order to break through the blessed place of numbness, I knew I would have to move on to something much harder.

             At any rate, it was a starting place. Taemin was drinking much slower than I—he didn’t seem to have anything to run from or drown out. Somewhere around the second beer, or maybe three, the conversation got around to more serious stuff, or at least the attempt of it. “So, tell me,” he said.

            “Tell you what?”

            “Tell me about her.”

            I grimaced here, even the insinuation too distasteful for me to consider. I hated the bitter taste of reality. He must have noticed, for he quickly followed up with: “Too soon? Okay.”

             this, I think. This kid doesn’t know what he’s doing; he doesn’t know where he’s prying. "I'm not a charity case. Don't treat me like someone you can put back together—I don't want to be fixed.” 

            He did not argue; nor did my angry tone ruffle him in the least. "All right," was his mild reply.

           “Why don’t you tell me something,” I say in return, and I really don’t know why other than by impulse. 

            “Hm? What’s that, hyung?”

            "Tell me—” I stopped myself short. Why did I care? I should have just left him there; should have just walked out of that bar and never looked back. Should have finished my mission without even thinking twice. But for some reason... for some reason, he interested me. Still, I didn’t want to get into a serious conversation soberly. I gestured to the bartender. “Let’s do a little something harder first.”

            As he poured two tall shot glasses with Jäger, that menacing dark liquid that guaranteed to up anyone who dared drink it, Taemin's eyes seemed full of nervous wonder. “Er—what’s that, hyung?”  

            I snickered satisfactorily. “It’s what real men drink.” There was something about his lack of composure and control that amused me. I liked to see him vulnerable. I liked to feel in charge. “It’s on me,” I add as I watch him twist the glass between reticent fingers.

            “No no, I asked you out. I'll pay.”

            “Makes it sound like a date,” I scoffed. It was my first attempt at humor in a very long time. The idea was so outlandish, I couldn't help but be amused by it. “Besides, after this round I’m out. Okay?”

            Taemin nodded. He really didn’t seem like he wanted to take that drink, and the more he squirmed the more I liked it.

            “All right. On the count of 1, 2, 3—”

            We counted and shot the glasses together. The hard licorice taste was horrible but at the same time soothing, numbing. I was used to this burning fire down my throat; I was a certified alcoholic. But he—I could tell by the twisted look on his face that he was very inexperienced at this.

            “You all right?” I asked, my smile only growing that much more.

            Taemin nodded again, albeit uncomfortably, and I motioned to the bartender to fill up our glasses again, thoroughly enjoying the drop in Taemin’s face as he realized what was being asked of him.

            “I… I thought you were only going to do one shot, hyung,” he said in a near-whisper.

            I was, in all honesty, enjoying the switch of power. “I lied,” I say easily. It was like a game of chicken now; I could tell that Taemin didn’t want to back down anymore than me. I liked this about him. Maybe it was the oncoming-inebriation, or maybe I was just too lonely to know better, but I was starting to enjoy his company a little.

            “H…hyung…” he stumbled after finishing the second disgusting round.

            “Eh? You gonna be sick, kid?”

            His face was wan but after a few moments he said, in a drunken murmur, “Hell no~ I’mma man. I can drink a thousand of ’em!”

            I laughed here. Laughed. I can’t even remember the last time I had laughed.

            This must have surprised Taemin also, because he said then, “Hyung! You’re laughing…?” 

            “You don’t think I’m capable? I used to be a fun son-of-a-…” I ramble off messily. I’m also feeling the effects now. “I used to be the best. So happy, you'd never even recognize me.”

            “I believe you.”

            “So—tell me.”

            “I’ll tell you anything.”

            “Tell me your story. Why are you here?” One thousand questions I could have asked him then, but this was the one that seemed most important at the time.

            “Me? I don’t have a story.”         

            “Everyone has a story.”

            He paused somewhat, as if to reflect on the question even more. “My story is your story.”

            I didn’t know what that meant, but didn’t press him. It was getting harder to contextualize the conversation under the circumstances. “That can’t possibly be true,” I say instead. “You don’t know anything about me. We’re not the same.”

            “I’d like to know about you. I think I know more than you think I do.”

            “Ever been married?”

            “No.”

            “In love?”

            “Sorta.”

            “Sorta?” For some stupid reason my tone took an turn again. “What kinda answer is that? You either are or you aren’t.”

            “Well, I guess that’s right. You would know best, hyung. I’ve never seen someone love another person as deeply as you…”

            “Tch. You don’t know. You don’t know anything.”

            Taemin’s eyes lowered, as if he was now studying his glass. He was swaying in his seat a little. “It’s your birthday today. I know that.”

            For some reason he seemed sad when he said this and I felt the unexplainable need to comfort him. I had no idea why; none of this made sense. I resisted the urge to pat him on the back and turned my eyes away from him until the impulse passed. 

            “I thought you were a soju man,” I say, trying to shift the conversation off of me. “How can you not handle this?”

            “Nah… I’m good. Let’s—let’s another. It’s… yes.”

            “Bwo? No way, kid,” I laughed. “You’ve had enough.”

            “I can take it, hyung.”

            Against my better, fast-fading judgment, I did not stop him. But, I mean, it wasn’t like we were really close enough for me to have a say—we weren’t even friends. Why should I care what this complete stranger did? He asked me here. It was really none of my business… whatever happened to him was his own damn fault.

            We took the third shot and this one, I knew, was going to be my last. I felt good. Good and numb. I forgot what I was doing there, I forgot why I was there and what I was doing before I got there. I forgot everything—except this strange kid sitting next to me who was now leaning into my shoulder.

            “Lee Taemin,” I say in a mocking stern voice after a few fuzzy moments passed by. “You are drunk.”

            He was burying his head in my jacket, but I didn’t mind. “No! Okay,” he giggled. “Yes.”

            “You can’t take it.”

            Taemin mumbled something, muffled and indiscernible.

            “Tell me where you live, kid. I’ll take you home.”

            “Wah~? I don’t wanna go home yet. I wanna be with you, hyung.”

            I was too drunk to think this was a weird thing to say. I was too drunk to think anything of any kind. I just felt good, and in my state of otherness, I had to admit that the feeling of another person this close to me felt good also. We stayed like this a moment, this twenty-seven year-old leaning into my body like a baby, and my arm around him in order to keep him from falling over. And it was now in this closeness that I could really make out his features and his frame. His body was small and almost frail—or at least it seemed that way as I held him…

            Held him.

            I hadn’t held a person since my wife died. Hadn’t felt another’s body next to mine in over a year now. And for whatever reason, it was… nice. In fact, if I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to wander, with his almost-feminine form, I could half-way imagine that I was holding her again... 

            “Happy birthday, hyung…” he managed at last. “I hope you see many more.”

            “I won’t.”

            “I’ll still hope for it.”

            This last thing he said on a fading whisper of a breath, and I knew that he wasn’t doing well. It was easy enough to tell. Had he took those shots simply to impress me? I felt slightly responsible.

             “Come on, let’s go.”

             I wrapped my arm around his waist as he stumbled to his feet and locked his arm around my neck, leading him outside where I hailed a cab. This Lee Taemin fellow was too out of it to tell me where to take him, but still, I felt this incessant urge to take care of him. It kept me sober enough—his vulnerability and seeming innocence—to see him into the car where he fell asleep on my shoulder.

            “Where to, sir?” the driver asked.

            I didn’t ponder it long; the irony wasn't lost on me. I knew I had no other choice but to take him to the very place I vowed I’d never bring anyone ever again: my home. 

__________

A/N:

OMG Jägermeister, especially mixed with Red Bull (aka Jägerbomb), is guarenteed to YOU UP. lol. Anyway, Taemin's attempt both backfired as much as it actually worked. Minho's still alive! And not only that, he feels like he has to care for him, at least temporarily. Kinda sweet, in it's own weird way. After all, it's the ones who don't want to be saved who need to be saved the most. But why does Taemin care so much about Minho anyway? We'll just have to keep writing/reading to figure it all out. ^_^ 

Best, UnnieM ♥