Part V (862 words)
The Misconception

The fancy-lettered sign in front of the building should have given it away—Onew’s Massage Therapy Agency—but it had not even registered in Taemin’s mind until he was actually sitting inside a small office, the cushioned chair growing increasingly uncomfortable the longer he sat in it. Taemin had spent an entire two hours watching this supposed retired therapist massage his customers one by one, each one walking in stressed and leaving with relaxed smiles.

Jinki was wiping his hands clean from massaging oils when Taemin finally speaks up.

“What am I doing here, exactly?”

The elder smiles kindly before replying, “You are here to heal.” He walks over to the glass door of the building, flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ before turning around to face the younger again, bright smile still in place.

Taemin’s eyes narrow. “There is nothing wrong with me,” he contests.

“I never said that,” Jinki countered, taking a few steps towards the other man. “I said ‘heal’ which implies at least some sort of development. There is not a soul in the world that is not in need of development.”

“So why did I have to sit here and watch you… work?” Taemin demands, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and feeling slightly annoyed. Why would Gwiboon, a psychiatrist with such high merit, send him to a masseuse―a personal acquaintance of hers, no less―when Taemin so obviously needed assistance of a psychological kind? Was the whole set up some kind of a sick joke? Taemin would not be surprised, considering that after all, she was related to Kibum.

Jinki strolls over to the massage table and pats the soft padding in an inviting manner. “That’s an easy question―it’s to gain your trust and also so you know what I’m about to do.”

The chair Taemin was seated on topples over as he jumped to his feet, staring at the shorter man in horror, arms closing over his torso protectively; all of Jinki’s customers had to strip out of their shirts, some going as far as stripping completely . “No! N-No way!” Taemin exclaims―he came here to rid of his fear of the dark, not have some attractive stranger toy with his body.

After ten minutes straight of cajoling and convincing, Jinki finally had an uneasy Taemin laid out shirtless on the table. He moaned mutedly into the padding as Jinki’s deft fingers made him squirm every now and then, especially when the elder rubbed at the tight knots in his neck and shoulders in just the right way.

“You are so tense,” Jinki comments observantly, finally loosening an obstinate knot in Taemin’s shoulder and proceeding to work unhurriedly down his back. The masseuse’s small but solid hands knead circles into the taut muscle, eliciting another groan from the younger. “How do you ever get anything done?”

Taemin chooses not to respond, losing himself in the hypnotic feel of Jinki’s hands massaging into him. Jinki resumes talking, somewhat hesitant as he speaks. “… Gwiboon-ah sent me her observation of you.”

Taemin’s body goes rigid at the words. Detecting the troubled atmosphere, Jinki stills his movement, allowing Taemin a few moments to gather his bearings. “W-what did she say?” Taemin whispers quietly, not looking up at the elder man. He is surprisingly not appalled when he feels Jinki the hair on his head, the gesture soothing as the fingers that were just rubbing into his back card reassuringly through the silken brown strands.

“Nothing,” Jinki answers, “just that you have a problem you want to recover from, and that I can perhaps help.”

The younger sighs with relief, body visibly relaxing. “Oh,” Taemin responds, solaced―he never did like others talking about him behind his back, especially about his fear of the dark. He would rather explain it himself because no one could understand that fear the way he did.

Sensing this, the masseuse continues, “I’m not a real doctor, so of course she didn’t tell me anything else. You are her patient after all. Your information is completely confidential.”

‘Patient’―Taemin hated the sound of that term. It made it seem like there was something wrong with him, that he needed correction when all he really needed was some help, for someone to understand him.

“I had one free session with her,” Taemin refutes stubbornly, sitting up and feeling self-conscious of the bare state of his smooth chest, so he wraps his arms conservatively around his front as he turns to face Jinki. “That hardly constitutes as a patient-doctor relationship.”

“Well, whatever you want to call it then,” Jinki responds with a shrug. “Either way, everything I know is what you choose to tell me.” His expression turns thoughtful as he eyes the younger man interestedly.

Taemin’s round cheeks redden under the sturdy gaze, and he struggles to look away. He has really intense eyes, Taemin thinks to himself, unsure where else to look. “What?” he finally asks after a few moments of searching silence.

The elder shakes his head, a small smile gracing his previously serious face. “Nothing, just that…”

Their eyes meet again, and for a few seconds Taemin forgets how to breathe.

“Nothing,” Jinki repeats, “it’s nothing.”