PLAYLIST (aka these songs are how I wrote this)

1. "Somewhere I Belong" by Linkin Park - link
2. "Let Down" by Dead by Sunrise - link
3. "What is Love" by EXO - link
4. "Us Against the World" by Westlife - link
5. "Fire" by SHINee - link, lyrics

FIC RECS (aka shameless advertising/fangirling)

• If you liked the Jongtae, you might like Sanguine (it's tier, but no, not that ty).
• If you liked the highschool!angst, you might like Don't Let Go (Kaisoo).
• If you liked the short length of the chapters/intense sappiness of it all, you might like my 30 Day OTP Challenge (Hunhan).
• If you liked the singer!Jonghyun and awkward!Taemin, you might like Anthology (drabble-length). *

* Stories with asterisks are not written by me.

THOUGHTS (aka how this story came to be and where it went)

So mostly I wrote this story while I was dealing with too many Jongtae feels (because what fangirl doesn't have those annoying things?). It was originally supposed to be a one-shot but things got way out of hand as I started writing. Inspiration mostly came from life (of course) and Jonghyun's ton of covers on radio shows, live performances, Immortal Song 2, etc. I also felt like I was channeling a lot of Glee feels (but I stopped watching that in the middle of season 2 so who knows?).

If there's anything I want you to get away from this story, it's that people deal with a lot of crap on a daily basis. Just having another person there, even without talking about anything, is better than keeping it all bottled up. It's why Jonghyun and Taemin gravitated towards each other, because they knew what the other was feeling and because being together was better than being alone.

BONUS: Why So Serious

(Read on tumblr here.)

Taemin is the first back to the dorm after they hear the news about Jonghyun. The older boy is stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes and the other dangling over the edge of the couch, fingertips brushing the hardwood floor.

“What the , hyung?” he demands, not caring that Jonghyun probably has a pounding headache from painkillers and anesthesia, not caring that panic and adrenaline is probably still coursing through Jonghyun’s veins from that single, heart-stopping moment of losing control, not caring that Jonghyun probably hates himself right about now.

When Jonghyun doesn’t respond, Taemin grabs his arm away and shines the nearest lamp on his face. Those familiar, dark eyes stare back up at him, squinting in the sudden light. Even so, Taemin can see the anguish lurking within. He can’t speak for the next few seconds, that stretch into eternity.

“Is it that bad?” Jonghyun asks, touching the bandages on his face self-consciously.

Taemin shakes his head in a horrible mockery of the truth. “You look fine.”

Jonghyun closes his eyes again, as if that will make everything go away. “You don’t have to lie to me, Taemin. I know I screwed up.”

Now, Taemin came here with a hundred variations of the same lecture ready to pour from his mouth. But they all dry up the second he hears Jonghyun’s voice crack, just slightly, at the end of his sentence, when before it has always been the strong one, the one built for belting high notes and the one that’s never out of tune.

“It’s not your fault,” he says to Jonghyun, instead of the lies he has prepared.

“Does it matter?” Jonghyun replies. “Everything’s ruined now anyway.”

“It’s not,” Taemin insists (though he notices how Jonghyun doesn’t deny his part in this). “We’re going to be fine.”

He shifts Jonghyun’s legs carefully, as if they’re what’s broken. He sits down on the couch next to Jonghyun and leans close, hesitantly, feeling the comfortable heat of the other’s body. When Jonghyun opens his eyes, he sees Taemin’s face swimming in his vision, and he sits up, groaning. Taemin re-crosses his legs underneath him and they sit shoulder to shoulder.

“Jonghyun, I--” Taemin gets out before he is cut off by Jonghyun’s lips on his. It’s been too long, so instead he says, “Nngh.”

Jonghyun’s lips are chapped, but his chest is still hard against Taemin’s, his fingers searching and his mouth hungry. Taemin feels his back collide with the arm of the couch, panting for air as minutes pass.

“They’re supposed to be coming back soon,” Taemin forces out in between kisses, his eyes flickering to the door as his hands roam over the expanse of Jonghyun’s back.

“I don’t care,” Jonghyun whispers back, resting his forehead on Taemin’s shoulder so his face is hidden from view. Taemin wonders if it’s because he wants to hide his bandages, or his eyes, dark and magnetic and tortured.

“Why don’t you?” Taemin asks, even though he already knows the answer. “You’ve worked so hard. We all have.”

“I’m just sick of it,” Jonghyun says, almost violently. “I’m sick of them always telling us what to do, where to go, what to say, like we’re being killed. I’ve had enough. They can’t control me anymore. I won’t let them take away the one thing--”

There’s a loud slamming as the front door opens and then Key’s voice fills the room as he hurries over to the couch. Taemin slides away, watching as Jonghyun’s eyes close up again, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Are you okay?” Key is asking quietly, one hand lifting Jonghyun’s chin so they can look at each other properly. Jonghyun doesn’t look away, just nods and allows Key to begin talking, nonsense about it all being okay. Taemin envies Key for the way Jonghyun respects him, wishing that Jonghyun could look back at him the same way.

He gets up to go get a drink from the kitchen, listening to the soft murmur of voices behind him. He’s opened the fridge when the front door slams again, and the manager is furious.

“--out all day doing damage control for your sorry ,” he’s in the middle of saying with Taemin walks back into the living room, hesitantly seating himself next to Key. “I swear, there’s going to be hell to pay for this. Mr. Lee will be talking to you, the CEO will be coming down, and you’re definitely scratched from promotions for at least a month. Profits are going down the drain already and we’ve only just gotten started.”

Jonghyun takes it all in silence, as do Onew and Minho when they let themselves in and sit nearby. They all know that the manager will wear himself out soon enough, and then the worst will be over. Taemin isn’t worried so much about the manager though, as about Jonghyun. When the manager finally leaves, barking orders into his cell phone, the older boy just gets up, not responding to the other’s inquiries. He disappears down the hallway and the sound of running water starts a few minutes later. Onew mutters something about getting sleep, which Taemin takes as a signal to leave.

He’s lying on his bed, listening to the shower run cold, when a thought strikes him. What will they do, all that time, without Jonghyun? What will he do without Jonghyun? Taemin, especially, has grown up with the members, barely recalling a time when he hasn’t known at least one of them. What will he do when Jonghyun disappears in the heat of promotions? He’s still turning over the question in his mind when Jonghyun walks back into the room dripping wet, a towel slung around his hips. The brightness from the hallway casts an oblong rectangle of light on the ground. Taemin can see Jonghyun’s shadow crossing over it..

“I wasn’t scared when the car hit the rail, you know. It was a split second thing, but I was ready. I did it for us,” he says as he steps into a pair of shorts and slides into bed next to Taemin. “You understand, right?”

Taemin doesn’t answer.

“They can’t tell us not to be together,” Jonghyun continues. “You’re the only thing I have now. I love you. I just can’t stand letting them win. I only need to have you, okay?”

Taemin bites his lip and his voice comes out strangely choked when he answers, “But isn’t this just letting them win again? Keeping us apart?”

Jonghyun’s eyes are so sad as he shakes his head that Taemin almost regrets asking. “What else can we do? You know we’ve tried before.”

Taemin knows: the first tentative advances past strictly platonic touches, the earth-shaking seconds pressed against backstage walls, being found out one hot summer’s day, whispered conversations and loud arguments, lectures from the management, bitter tears alone in opposite corners of the dorm because it’s too painful to look at each other. The final straw--the threat of termination for one, while the other is trapped in a slave contract for years afterward, never able to see the other. They’ve tried for each other, but the risk for everything else--their profit margins, their fans--is just too much.

“Do you regret it?” Taemin asks suddenly.

“What?”

“Debuting? Signing up for all of this?”

“I would never regret meeting you.” Jonghyun’s voice is firm, and Taemin believes him. He can’t help asking, though--

“What happens next?”

The strength in Jonghyun’s voice falters again as he replies, “I don’t know. But we’ll get through it, right?”

Taemin doesn’t know the answer to that.

SARANGHAEYO.

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