VI
Reborn for You
*A/N: please note POV shift from 1st to 3rd person in the beginning section.
________________________________________________________
“Do you know him well?”
Taemin was nervously twirling his thumbs in a circle, still contemplating the best way to proceed. He nodded here, though more as a reflex than an honest answer.
“Did you know about his situation? How bad it had been?”
This, at least, he could answer: “Yes, sir.”
“He can’t come back here. Not for some time.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“He’ll need someone to look after him. Do you know if there’s anyone close to him?”
Taemin’s face said it all. “He’s a widower.”
“Ah… yes. That's right. I remember now. What about family? Next of kin?”
“He’s rather… recluse, sir. He spends all his time alone.”
This seemed to bother the executive in charge of Minho’s case. He was still holding the birthday card in his hand that Taemin had given to Minho, the card that was left on the desk next to the suicide confession when they found his body, unconscious and alcohol-heavy, the next morning. “But you are close to him, is this correct?”
He gulped. A lie, or a stretched-out truth? He didn’t know; but he knew as much as he should. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, we can’t have Mr. Choi left alone. I’m sure you’d do it anyway since you’re close, but until he is well again, we’re going to need you to look after him.”
Yes, they couldn’t have Minho by himself, this was for sure. Especially for as important he was to the company. And the only alternative was to place him in a hospital, which would be better off avoiding if possible. Minho just needed rest, his boss had said; rest and nutrition—he’d been existing on little else save booze and ramyun for months. But deep down, Taemin knew that Minho was starving in something else: compassion. Minho needed someone to care for him emotionally as much as he needed someone to care for his physical needs. And if it meant bending the truth just a little in order to provide him this, then he would do it…
“Yes, sir,” was Taemin’s resultant reply. “I understand.”
* * *
When I woke up again it took me a few seconds to remember where I was and what had happened before I fell asleep. What I did know was that someone was in the house with me…
That’s right—the kitchen. She…
This was the only thing I remembered before I passed out. My headache was splitting, and I felt ill—body achy, head blisteringly warm. I didn’t have time for this—I shouldn’t even be sick if I was dead…
And that’s when I realized the painful truth. I wasn’t dead at all. I was back at home, with a ing stranger in my house, unless her ghost had truly come to care for me.
Half expecting to see her form appear on summoning, my body tensed as I heard footsteps approaching down the hall. I mouth her name to myself, wringing the blanket in my still-bruised fist.
I am waiting for her; I am ready…
The presence is coming closer now, twisting the knob of the door…
“Ah, hyung…” I heard then. It was that kid, that Taemin, peaking his head through the doorway with that stupidly optimistic expression all over his face.
My heart sank a little, though fluttered at the same time.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” I bark back at him though he doesn’t even flinch. My mouth is cotton-dry. I am suddenly overwhelmed with a desire for water. How did he know? He had a glass already prepared in his hand; he came closer, cautiously, and handed me the drink, which I accepted without thinking twice.
He seems reticent to answer, as if he does not know how.
“Well?” I repeat harshly between voracious gulps. I don’t know why I am angry, but know I am disappointed to be in this place, alive and alone.
“I’m sorry, sir. It’s just… you needed someone to look after you. Mr. Roh insisted—”
“Insisted?” I scoffed. “And why is ‘Mr. Roh’ talking to you, anyway?”
“Because he was the one who found you, sir.”
This matter-of-fact tone took me off guard. Found me… I finally put it together—how I must have been found, and in what condition. Very obviously about to commit suicide in my office. There was no way I could have convinced my employers otherwise. That was a very bad thing. A very bad thing.
“I have to get back to work. What time is it?”
His face fell into a pout. “You can’t. You’re on sabbatical.”
“Sabbatical? Bull. I haven’t missed a day of work in my life.”
“Forced sabbatical,” he answered quickly. “You aren’t allowed to come back, hyung. Respectively.”
“And you’re my enforcer?” I snickered.
“No. Just someone to look after you until you are well again. You have left a lot of people with a lot of worries.”
I was only growing more and more upset. Damn, I should have finished myself off while I still had the time…
“I imagine you’re hungry, hyung,” he added.
“Why is that?” Everything he said became a battle to me. He triggered an elementary reflex that I could not define at the time.
“Because it’s been about three days since you’ve eaten.”
“Three?” Did I hear this correctly? “Three days?!”
“Well, technically three, since I have no idea when you passed out. You’d been unconscious for awhile when they found you the next morning…”
“So, I’ve…” It was a lot to get my head around. “I’ve been sleeping for two days?”
Taemin shrugged. “I didn’t want to force you awake. It seemed like you needed the rest.”
“I don’t need anything…”
He shrugged again. “Tell that to the people who brought you here.”
“I didn’t ask for that.” It was then that it hit me: “It was you—you were the one in the kitchen…”
“I’ve had rice on standby in the cooker ever since I got here,” he beamed, obviously proud. “And lots of other yummy things, hyung, if you’re ready to eat—”
“I don’t want your food. I don’t want you here.”
Poor kid. He had no idea why I was so upset. How could he know that I had, yet again and with heartbreaking disappointment, mistaken him for her.
“Well,” he said, wholly unshaken, “I have distinct orders to be here so, if you don’t like it, you’re gonna have to convince your boss to let me go.”
I didn’t know what to say to this, but as he leaned in a little closer to me I flinched back, suddenly self-aware of my state—my teeth I hadn’t brushed for days apparently, the body I hadn’t showered, the hair I hadn’t washed. I probably looked awful, smelled awful too. The last thing I remember was taking a bath in my own vomit and gin. Yet, though my mouth was dry, it didn’t taste foul; and I didn’t seem as dirty as I should have been under the circumstances…
Had he…?
Taemin was now sitting on the bed next to me, twirling his thumbs in a circle—a habit that I’d soon grow accustomed to, though I didn’t know it at the time. I felt my cheeks warm up suddenly; I avoid all eye-contact.
“Why don’t you eat something, hyung?” he said in a soft, confident voice. “You’ll feel better.”
“I don’t need to eat.” As I said this, I noticed the irony of my grumbling stomach.
“Well, I guess that’s just another way to off yourself. Though… you know it’ll take awhile. Starvation is a long process—much longer than three days. You’d be better off with the rope.”
I twisted my lips. It was apparent to me that his feelings were almost impenetrable. I could not affect him at all the way that he affected me. But secretly? I liked this about him. I liked it a lot more than I should…
“All right. What about a shower? I’m sure that would feel nice. Then we can eat.”
“Bwo? I don’t need someone to tell when to shower or when to eat.”
“Don’t you?” he smirked. “All right. Though it doesn’t really seem you’re doing a good job of it so far…”
This last part he mumbled somewhat under his breath, though I heard him perfectly. “Why are you doing this? Why do you care?”
“I told you already—I’m human, aren’t I? It’s not a lot to ask from one civilized person to another.”
“I’m not civilized. I’m crazy,” I lie.
“You’re not crazy, hyung,” he replied to my surprise. “Just misunderstood—and very alone. I told you it’s not good for a lonely person to be alone too long…”
I clicked my tongue at this for lack of a better response. I was losing my stamina; he was completely likable and had done nothing wrong—so why was I so resistant?
“I’ll help you—”
“I’m fine!” I said, slapping his hand away. He was trying to help me out of bed, I knew, but for some reason my pride wouldn’t allow it. “I’m fine… I can do it myself.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not a baby—”
“Then why are you acting like one?” Taemin said, more sternly than before. He grabbed one of my shoulders with mild force and looked square at me. I could tell that he was serious; I could tell that he was earnestly concerned. I could also tell—that I was still weirdly attracted to this man, no matter how minute, which is why I quickly shook him off and struggled to my feet without any assistance. “I swear, it’s like you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be around another living person.”
Why had he chosen his words this way? A ‘living person’? Did he know more than he let on? Lee Taemin continued to baffle me, intrigue me, even though I didn’t want to be.
“Have you talked to her—?” I stopped here, realizing how crazy it all sounded. Must have—he was giving me a slightly odd expression now, but not so odd as one might expect from a sane person listening in on an insane conversation.
The excitement of the situation and the pitch of my words backfired; I was feeling slightly nauseous again, my head still far from settled.
“Come on,” he said easily, apparently sensing my relapse, and here began to guide me to the bathroom without any further protest on my part.
“You’ve been taking care of me…” It was more of a declaration than anything. I realized then that he’d brushed my teeth for me and washed my face—I wasn’t in the condition that I should have been without any help. I don’t know why I let him exactly—continued to allow his guiding hand as these things became more clear to me. Honestly, I felt weak. My legs were trembling beneath me, my head fuzzy and heart weary.
“You’re sick,” Taemin stated as we entered the bathroom together. “You need help.”
I nodded absently. I was having a hard time concentrating.
“Hyung,” he continued, ing the top two buttons of my night-shirt as he did, which made me slightly self-aware, “if you’d rather get back in bed, just tell me—”
I mumbled something in response. My eyes were heavy and burdened. I placed my hands loosely atop his hips in an attempt to keep upright. He seemed surprised by this, and flinched at the touch though he did not recoil from it, even as I grabbed onto him tighter and tighter the more weak I became. The air became slightly awkward here, I could feel his small frame tremor in my hands; could smell the lingering scents of onions and spices on his clothes mixed in with the reminiscent fragrance of his skin. It was... nice. Because it reminded me of her, and all the domestic memories I had affixed to her memory, for a single solitary moment I rested my weight against him and allowed myself to pretend...
However, the minute I closed my eyes I felt my vertigo kick in with a new force. I was teetering now, slipping in and out of collective consciousness. Taemin smiled at me, as if he knew the things I didn’t know how to say without me even trying, slipping the buttons he’d too recently freed back into their proper slits. “Hm. I don’t think you’re ready. Let’s lie down, okay?”
“Okay…”
“You need to rest. Okay?”
“Okay…”
“We’ll try this again after. All right?”
“All right…”
He was still smiling through all this—that soft, soft smile. Even as he guided me back to my room and eased the gray sheets over my broken body, he still smiled. The irony was not lost on me, considering I’d done the same for him a few nights before. He left me then, but soon after returned with an array of dishes that I could tell he’d had waiting for this very occasion.
“Eat.” He put the spoon to my mouth and I accepted it, the soup he had made for me. It was embarrassing. Humbling. Comforting…
“I—I can do it…” I said as he readied a second bite.
Taemin handed me the bowl. “You got it?”
“Of course. Stop babying me already. I’m older than you.”
“You really do spend too much time being angry.”
“I’m not angry.” His words hurt me somewhat; not for my sake, but his.
“No? Okay.” He was still smiling, but now it had shifted into an expression that suggested he did not believe me. However, instead, he simply said: “I’m glad then.”
“Wae?” I snapped.
“Because it’ll only keep you sick. A troubled heart will only keep you sick…” He shoveled through the snow-white mound of rice with his chopsticks, and when he proceeded to hold up to my lips, I accepted and ate it in place of replying. Everything tasted better than it should. It had been so long since someone even talked to me, much less cared for me this way…
When I ate enough, Taemin asked if I was ready to try the shower again. I told him to go away. That I wanted to sleep. But even still, when he left I felt his absence. And the last thing that hung in my mind as I heard the water humming in the kitchen, my eyes falling rebelliously heavy all the while, was how strangely disappointed I was in my own answer.
__________________
A/N:
I meant for the previous chapter to be a of sorts in terms of Minho's consciousness. This chapter marks a new transition from the solitary and melancholy narrative of our broken protagonist into the progression of their exchange now that Minho has become dependent upon Taemin in a way. I hope you are still enjoying this story. Thank you to those of you who take the time to comment; it really means a lot to me, especially those of you who leave heart-felt and deep observations. It's a pleasure to write stories for you all.
Best, UnnieM ♥
Comments