Nine

nine

[ Taemin ]

Taemin almost wishes that he had accepted Jonghyun’s offer to drive him home, because he’s a little bit too jittery just now to worry about making the right turns in the darkness. He rubs his eyes in a futile effort to keep from drifting into another dimension full of Jonghyun’s smile. It seems like a good dimension, to be perfectly honest, though. Taemin bets it’s full of cotton candy and happiness, with lakes of syrup and mountains of chocolate.

“Oh God,” he says out loud when he realizes what he just thought. “Focus, Taemin. You’re almost home.”

He shakes his head furiously and makes the last turn into his cul-de-sac, tiptoeing into the house and tucking himself into bed after he changes and brushes his teeth. He usually doesn’t sleep much, because school is tedious enough that he dozes through most of it and becomes wide awake by the time the last bell rings. But today is even worse.

Once he closes his eyes, all he can see is Jonghyun’s face. Once he opens them, all he can hear is Jonghyun’s voice. Try as he might, he can’t stop replaying the day over and over in his head, his smile growing wider and wider and his chest growing lighter and lighter. He couldn’t have been the only one that felt the electricity that crackled in between them. There’s even evidence: the light teasing tone of Jonghyun’s voice, the way his touches lingered a split second too long, the reluctance for Taemin to leave. Taemin doesn’t want to believe it, but everything points to the fact that Jonghyun feels just what he does.

Everything just clicks into place so perfectly in between them. It’s too perfect, the way they match, that it can’t possibly be anything less than fate. Taemin even likes to think that it’s something more. The way that Jonghyun looks at him, the way he says Taemin’s name, it’s perfect.

Needless to say, he doesn’t sleep much that night.

The next morning, he waves at Jonghyun before homeroom. Jonghyun waves back. Taemin doesn’t remember a word of Macbeth when it comes time to take a reading quiz in English class. He doesn’t care.

The entire day, he goes around in a protected bubble of Jonghyun, smiling at text messages under desktops, remembering snippets of conversations. It’s like nothing can touch him, not even the way his parents’ gazes linger a second too long and burn a degree too hateful.

Taemin thinks he’s finally found a place to belong. He later realizes that he’s so wrong it hurts. But just now, he can believe it. It’s perfect, because it’s Jonghyun.