One
Fifteen
Sometimes, when I look at him, I feel like I stopped growing up at fifteen.
For every year I grow older, a voice inside me tries to state that my feelings for him are slowly turning into dying embers in my heart -- little sparks of what used to be weakening each second until they become ashes, flying away because I have finally outgrown feeling this way for him.
Not.
I look at him and slowly, ever so slowly, time subtracts five years in my twenty-year-old life, and I once again find myself at fifteen; shy, always awkward and unsure of myself -- perhaps a little insecure because I never even tried approaching him, not even once, because I knew even in his young age back then he wanted a woman; a noona, and I was and never will be like that in his eyes, even if I spend my nights asking hananim* to turn me into one.
So the dying embers grow a second chance to become lively, burning flames, its fiery tips enough to devour my heart completely. Each year I become more of a woman than a girl, my feelings holding its ground instead of leaving and yet, refuses to be let out in a way you expect a woman will do. The girl in me always claws its way back, scraping desperately inside me, disputing the fact that I am already way past my girlhood, therefore now capable of at least openly admitting my feelings to him.
And so, I only look at him. Under the dizzying lights of the main stage, the screaming fans, the blaring music, I watch him. I am sitting with my unnies on the other side where he and his hyungs sat, watching other groups perform, smiling at fans calling our names and bobbing our heads up and down to the songs playing inside the arena. Trying to look collected and well mannered, acting oblivious to the cameras around us. Apart from the lights and effects blowing up the stage and the light sticks that peppered the huge enthusiastic crowd, the place where we are staying is dim; bright enough to see him from afar, but dark for everyone to not notice me looking at him.
“Taemin definitely looks very manly now,” Chaerin unnie comments as she fixes her bangs, and I only nod in response. Inside, I am already bursting -- Chaerin unnie is right as always, the boy I have adored for so many years is truly a man now; a far cry from his earlier days, his innocent smiles now replaced with a brooding expression, not lonely but only mysterious and intriguing. The once playful aura is gone, in its place a kind of maturity I have always known he would eventually possess.
The insecurity my fifteen-year-old self has always harbored inside gnaws at my heart as continue looking at him some more. I can never match up, I realize, and I lower my gaze in somber acceptance. I can’t even look at him now looking so much older, because the woman in me vanishes everytime I see him.
I can feel a rush of blood tint my cheeks red as I remember how I glossed over his recent photos in magazines he was featured in these past few days, thinking of how it would feel like to be around him now that he has changed so much. With the images of his older self invading my mind at the worst possible time I look up, fervently wishing that looking at him for the last time tonight will silence the little voice inside me that never truly left after all these years.
My eyes land on him...and the female idol he is now talking to. While I have absolutely no right, spasms of jealousy reverberated inside me. I unconsciously touch the ends of my short hair as I watch them interact, frustrated even with my hair now -- I can never flip my hair like the female idol he was talking to just did. He laughs with her, whispers something and I die a little inside.
I can never compete. Not even as my twenty-year-old self, never at all.
Because when it comes to Lee Taemin, I will always be stuck at fifteen.
-----
The stream of people walking in the corridor is maddening, but not as much compared to the storm raging inside my heart.
I curse myself for having to leave our table just because my supposedly older self cannot handle what I have seen. My unnies are worried, but I assure them that I am old enough to take care of myself. I am not fifteen anymore, unnies, I joked. I can go back here just in time for the closing ceremonies.
And now I walk, aimlessly wandering the long stretch of space before me, coordinators, assistants, managers, crew members and other idols passing me by in an unrecognizable blur. I needed a room, somewhere with a mirror so I can convince myself that I am already a woman and I am beyond this.
The last door at the end of the corridor looked empty, and I quicken my pace to reach it as soon as possible. A big mirror welcomes me as I enter, my worried face reflected on it. I shut the door behind me and move closer to the mirror, staring at my face as if I have seen it for the first time.
Strange, how I looked anything but fifteen. I fix my hair as I look at my outfit, graceful looking fingers slipping past my thighs as I try to smoothen my pants. They were tight -- all my clothes were even if I am covered up from head to toe.
“I have curves,” I tell myself encouragingly. “I may have very short hair but I have unmistakable curves of a woman.”
I laugh at my silliness, turning around to get a better view of my back. Yes, I am a far cry from my younger self.
The door opens just as I am about to face the mirror properly and I gasp.
Taemin enters the room, closes the door and leans against it. I blink, heart pounding in my chest, shocked that he is now only a few steps away from me.
“Do you need to use this room?” I begin to leave, trying my very best to look like a woman in his eyes, even just for this moment.
“Yes,” He answers, his voice a bit different from the last time I heard him speak. “With you.”
-----------
No age can ever prepare me for this -- no glamorous clothes, no makeup, no rehearsed lines could ever. I keep blinking rapidly, my breathing erratic as my hands grip the edge of the table behind me. I will my lips to move, to break the silence between us, but nothing comes out.
“I hope you don’t mind?” He asks, smiling a little as he eyes me carefully, perhaps trying to determine whether I will leave the room or not. “I waited for almost five years for this.”
“Five years?” My voice comes out high-pitched and shaky, and I hate myself for sounding so hopeful over nothing. Clearing my throat and lowering my voice a little I continue, “Is there something between us that I missed?” The last words sounded a little more daring than what I have intended, but it is too late to back down now.
He chuckles at my mock confidence, but grows serious as he finally looks straight at me. “Look at yourself,” He starts, eyes travelling from my face down to my body. “You’ve grown up so much. When I first saw you, I instantly thought that you would blossom into something really beautiful. Not that you weren’t beautiful when you were younger because you were,” he stresses his last statement, and I begin to wonder if he really is talking about me. “You made me feel really nervous every time I saw you, seeing as how I looked like someone you could never take seriously.”
“I couldn’t wait to grow older. I couldn’t wait to shed my maknae image, and all this time people around me thought it was because I couldn’t wait for the noonas to recognize me as a man, not knowing I was doing it for someone younger than me all along.”
“I thought you like noonas,” I simply answer him back. I can feel my palms sweating and sliding off the edges of the table but I hold on, resisting the urge to fall right in front of him.
He tilts his head to the side, a questioning look written across his face. “Why? Because I sang about dreaming about them when I debuted with my hyungs?”
“Maybe.”
He snickers at this, and I feel myself growing hot the longer he stares at me. “I don’t care about what they think. Secondly, they’re not...” He lets his sentence hang in the air as he begins shifting to take a few steps closer to me. “...they’re not as alluring as you are. No one else is.”
I can now see my reflection in his dark eyes, looking very much the young teenager always lurking behind my unnies whenever our group would come across his’, and yet, he says:
“Look at me, then. All these years I was afraid of not looking mature enough to approach you as you continued to change into something more beautiful each day. I was so scared of approaching you because you might still see me as a boy. Your oppas and unnies intimidated me so much because, how can I even convince them that I am at least worthy of your attention when I looked like I couldn’t even protect myself? I was worried that other guys who look manlier than me will grab your attention,” his voice cracks and his face reddens, but still, he pushes with his confession. “Sh*t, I look more mature now but I feel like I never changed at all everytime I see you.”
“Taemin-ssi...”
“Ah, and that. Shouldn’t you be calling me oppa now?” His self-assured self comes back, and he inches closer to me. “Acting like a fifteen-year-old at the very thought of you aside, I am sure that I actually look like an oppa now. Your oppa.”
He has grown so tall too, I now realize, and the idea of it overwhelms me.
“You’re so handsome up close,” Each word slips past my lips breathlessly, as if I were in a dream. He laughs quietly, enjoying a side of my fifteen-year-old self that has shown itself to him the moment he decided to lessen the space between us. He leans over a little, and I let my right hand caress his face, my fingers lightly tracing his jaw, marveling at how ridiculously defined his features are now. He only nods and closes his eyes, his adam’s apple moving as he swallows, anticipating what I will do next. I decide to rest my hand on his face and he opens his eyes to study my face. Slowly, I can feel him lifting my chin up, his gaze now on my lips. He swallows some more, and the light dims around me as he finally closes the space between us.
I can tell the changes we experienced are finally paying off. Had he kissed me when I was fifteen I would have screamed and ran away from him. I want to tell him this, but he is so engrossed with kissing me as I am to him, his arms now snaking around my waist as I hold onto his chest.
His heart is beating fast, and I could have sworn the heart inside him could have also been mine. He grows more needy and kisses me harder, his tongue trying to open my slightly quivering lips so it can enter and taste me some more. Thank God for being twenty, I rejoice inside as I let him do what he pleases, my tongue trying to explore his mouth as well. When our kissing has made me somewhat short of breath, I reluctantly pull away from him, but he is too quick to envelope me in his arms.
“I pray to God that this isn’t the last time I ever kiss you,” He whispers in my ear, lips softly brushing the the outer shell of it. “Because I did not spend those years improving myself just to get one from you.”
I nod as I rest my head comfortably on his chest, and he hugs me tighter. His voice grows husky and deep as he says, rather possessively, “And I hope, that somehow, I now officially have the rights to get worried when your stylists begin to dress you with pieces of clothing that barely cover some parts of your body. I am already having trouble giving other guys threatening looks whenever you walk past them in your tight clothes.”
“But I am covered up all the time,” My mock protest comes out muffled, but he still hears and understands my point perfectly.
“I know, but sometimes that makes guys’ imaginations run wild. Trust me.”
I look up at him and he loosens his hold to look back at me. “What about my hair?” My question sounds superficial, but I want to know. The girl he has been talking to a while ago had long, luscious locks after all.
“Your short hair suits you,” He replies, and then naughtily, he adds, “I can definitely use it to my advantage.”
I slap his face lightly in embarrassment, making him laugh. “You’re so confident now, almost so full of yourself!”
“Not when I’m under your seductive charm,” He murmurs, lowering his head to put a chaste kiss on my lips this time. “I always feel like I’m the same awkward, gangly teenager whenever I’m around you to be honest. Like I really never got old, even when I already am.”
“Oh you’re not the only one, oppa,” I tiptoe to whisper this in his ear, pressing my lips just below his earlobe afterwards, making him shiver in delight. “You’re not the only one.”
♥
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