A/N: Soooo, the first chapter is coming from me, Lexi. WOW did this take a while *rocks back and forth in a ball crying* but IT IS DONE.

I hope the way I've written it at least kind of makes sense and says what I'm trying to say, but just to be sure, I'll clarify at the end.

Once again, if this is likely to trigger you... maybe give it a miss? At least, be sensible. Please. For me. Otherwise I'll feel bad, and I'll cry more.

BAND: SHINee          CENTRIC: Onew x Taemin          WORDS: 4,063 (I'm so sorry but I promise I had reasons for every word)

 

 

          Lee Jinki, or Onew as his friends called him, was a quiet person, yet still approachable, well-liked, and with a good group of friends. He might not be the life and soul of the party, but he would sure be there laughing along with everyone else. Attending Seoul Arts High, he had many talents, primarily painting and music, but one of them was also that he seemed to have a bit of a knack for taking care of his dongsaengs. Always as the eldest member of his friendship groups, Jinki often found himself looking out for the younger ones; Jonghyun, Minho, Sehun, Jongin, Seulgi, Irene, and even Kibum when he dropped his “diva-guard” enough to let him.

And then there was Taemin.

Taemin was also quiet, but less of a “people-person” than Jinki. Also attending Seoul Arts High, although a few years Jinki’s junior, he specialised in dance and music. Music was how the two had initially met…

          Jinki walked down the white walled corridors of the music block to the few practice rooms he knew would be free at this time of day. There were 3 down this corridor, and more down several others, but he had one he specifically preferred; he put it down to habit. Room C32 – the end of the corridor, brown wood door a little beaten up through years of school life, with a tarnished metal handle. As he neared the room, however, he heard soft music penetrating through the soundproofed walls. Treading softly in his worn black school shoes, he carefully placed his ear to the door.

“Replay, replay, replay~,” the smooth notes of the popular song by a new boy band he remembered hearing about from Jonghyun drifted to his ears. Whoever was in there sure was good. He found the gentle melody relaxing him, and he leaned against the door a little more. Sadly for Jinki, where he excelled in the arts of painting and music, his bodily co-ordination was somewhat lacking, and even more unluckily, the practice room’s occupant had not properly locked the door.

Creak~ SMACK

“OOF...”

Jinki landed in an ungainly heap on the floor, the door rebounding dumbly against the wall, at the feet of another boy.

“A- are you… are you, alright?” The room’s occupant appeared to be a boy several years Jinki’s junior, that is if the way his uniform appeared to have been bought several sizes too big by his parents in the expectation of a growth spurt was anything to go by, with a cute looking bowl cut and big shining eyes – eyes that were now showing a little fright, shadowed by curiosity. Jinki quickly picked himself up off the floor, tugging at his sweater a little nervously.

“Ahhh yeah…” he chuckled, “I was just- your singing- I practice here lots and- I heard you and- …yeah,” he scratched his head apologetically, realising he was gushing a bit.

“I love that song you know,” he quickly followed up.

“Y- you do…?” the boy replied.

“Yeah! Oh- my name’s Lee Jinki by the way,” he said, extending a hand, “some people call me Onew though so… take your pick I guess?” He smiled brightly.

“I’m Taemin,” the boy responded softly, taking his hand.

He smiled too.

          And so it began. Jinki’s voice was highly praised throughout the music faculty, and so Taemin began slowly to come to him for advice more and more. They began to practice together, eat lunch together, and their friendship grew and grew until the two were very close.

 

 

          If singing was Jinki’s first love, painting was his second. There was something infinitely soothing to him about the blend of paint on paper, swirling spiralling out from the tip of his brush, the ability to create whatever his heart desired. As Jinki got to know Taemin better, he discovered that where he loved to paint, Taemin loved to dance.

          One day, Jinki snuck into the dance studios in the hopes of finding Taemin since his class had finished early. As he walked down the somewhat unfamiliar corridors of the dance studio block, he heard the smooth beats of a song flowing out from a studio somewhere up ahead. Approaching cautiously, he walked up to the door, and peered in through the small circular window conveniently at head height. Stood in the middle of the studio was Taemin, alone since the rest of his class had evidently already left. The song began to pick up, and Taemin began to move, and Jinki watched in awe. Any art Jinki could create with his brush was nothing compared to the art Taemin created with his body. Moving, twisting, turning; he moved with an effortless grace that Jinki found simply otherworldly. Jinki didn’t know how long he had been stood watching agape, but the song eventually drew to a close, and Taemin’s movements ceased. As if an enchantment was broken, Jinki snapped back to reality. Knocking gently, he pushed the door open. Taemin turned to look, somewhat resembling a deer caught in headlights. He relaxed a little when he saw who it was.

“H- hi hyung. I thought you had art class right now? It’s your last lesson of-“

“That was beautiful,” blurted Jinki.

Taemin blushed.  “I mean… sorry for kind of bursting in, but… yeah.”

Taemin chuckled lightly – from embarrassment at being watched, or amusement at Jinki’s awkward praise, he wasn’t sure.

“Thank you, hyung. But… I still need to improve,” he replied, fiddling with the long sleeves of his shirt.

“Well, you can only improve if you’ve got the energy to do it, right? Let’s go find Sehun, and we’ll go get some bubble tea.”

Taemin’s face lit up.

“Okay hyung, I’ll just get my stuff from the changing rooms!” Jinki watched him skip off through a side door.

Taemin really did shine bright.

 

 

          Jinki liked to think that he was a good hyung – he took care of his dongsaengs, and helped them wherever he could. He hoped they found him easy to come to, and he always made sure he was “available” to them, be it by facebook, text, or some other kind of instant messaging app. He had to have at least 20 of the blasted things by now – everyone seemed to be on a different one.

          Taemin was no exception to this rule, and Jinki always tried to be there for him. He was one of the youngest of Jinki’s friends at school, and so Jinki couldn’t help but see him as young and vulnerable, much to Taemin’s endless frustration. His favourite quote: “I’m nearly 15 now hyung. I’m not Taemin anymore – I’m TaeMAN”. This usually ended in Jonghyun falling about on the floor laughing, while Kibum squidged Taemin’s cheeks and told him how cute his “little Taeminnie” was, and would always be to them.

          In spite of this though, as time passed, Taemin did begin to open up to Jinki somewhat more about things he didn’t want to go to anyone else with; perhaps felt he couldn’t go to anyone else with, because he’d just be bugging them. But Jinki was always very clear about one thing:

“If it matters to you, it matters to me.”

And he would tell Taemin this almost daily. Taemin would sometimes blush a little, and reply with a simple,

“Thank you, hyung.”

          Taemin went through a particularly rough patch when his parents divorced. No one else at school knew except Jinki, and Taemin was very clear that he wanted to keep it that way. Still, some of the things he messaged to Jinki during their late night Facebook conversations during that time nearly broke his heart – listening to his parents scream at each other while he was trying to do his homework, the way they would say horrible things about each other to Taemin instead of one another as if they were children. And all he could do was listen. He couldn’t stop it happening, but he could be there for him, and in some small way, Jinki hoped it was enough.

          Thankfully things did get better, and several months down the line, Taemin was back to his happy, dancing, smiling self. He had little teenager-y problems here and there, and Jinki was there to listen still, but nothing colossally earth shattering came up. Still; if it mattered to Taemin, it mattered to Jinki.

 

 

          Jinki and Taemin talked nearly every night, about anything and everything. Jinki was always the first to fall asleep though; he supposed he was trying to set a good example for Taemin, though to tell the truth, it was more that he simply ceased to function after 1am. And then at maybe 1:30am, after scrolling through his tumblr for a bit, Taemin would shut his laptop too.

He wouldn’t go to sleep though.

          In the silence of the darkness, Taemin would retreat through the shadowed hallways of his house to his bathroom, locking the door shut behind him, his only company the flickering wall mounted light by the mirror above the sink, his mother having long since fallen asleep. The four tiled walls of his bathroom whispered things to him through the silence. Shame, pain, hatred, despair, secrets; and he would curl up on cold floor surrounded by all these things. The one secret he never wanted to tell anyone; not even his closest hyung. Even if he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t. The disgust, the disdain, just the thought of the reactions of his parents, friends, classmates… it didn’t bear thinking about. Taemin liked things just the way they were. He didn’t want it to change.

So what was his secret?

          Taemin liked to draw. He was an artist, just like Jinki Hyung always said. Yes, he danced; he was an artist with his body. But there was more. His drawings were all in crimson, fading in time through shades of red, pink, and eventually to pure white. Cuts, slits, and slashes, scrawled across the canvas of his skin, mostly on his arms, but a couple on his hipbones and thighs too. Lines, words, and shapes, all dancing about his sapphire veins like a living masterpiece.

And each night he added to his gallery.

          He would place the sharp, twinkling little blade on his skin. Press it down. Breathe. And drag.

          It was as if in that instant of pain, that jolt, the shock, everything came into clear focus, like breaking the surface of a swimming pool, gasping, his heart pounding. It was beautiful and exhilarating.  

          Some days, he did it because of actual pain he felt inside, sometimes anger or stress, but sometimes it was just simple habit. The effect was always the same; it made everything else go away.

          As the high began to fade, he would drop his eyes to examine the cut, perhaps on his wrist. Tiny little red globes would begin to spring up, and soon an entire clear cut line would seep through. The globes would grow, beading together, the liquid glinting softly in the dim light, and then they would run, dancing, chasing each other down his forearm. It was as if they were trying to emulate veins on the outside of his skin.

          When he was done, sometimes after a few minutes, other times an hour or more, he would wash the blood away in the sink. The water would run red, pink, and eventually clear.

          Here and there, particularly on stubborn wounds that refused to cease weeping, he would place small bandages and band aids, all hidden during the daytime by his long sleeves and jeans. He never cut deep enough to need anything particularly heavy-duty like gauze; this was somewhat of a point of pain for him though. He just felt pathetic for not being brave enough to push harder.

What mattered most, however, was that for now, his secret was safe.

          Recently though, Taemin did wonder if he’d been getting… worse? Where before he’d been able to conceal most of his “art” with a combination of three-quarter length shirts and sweatbands, sometimes a little bit of concealer smudged over a particularly dark scar, he was finding that he was cutting more and more. There were almost too many scars for him to keep up with, and he couldn’t cover them all at once. Makeup wasn’t enough for some anymore too – they were sometimes too raised, and when he put it over still healing cuts with scabs, it just got messy, as well as being rather obvious. So, he was confined solely to long sleeved shirts, hoodies, and sweaters.

 

 

          Somebody was starting to notice though.

          It started one day when Jinki was waiting for Taemin outside of the dance studio again. The bell rang, and after a minute or two, the doorway opened to allow the horde of sweaty, boisterous dance students to pour out in a tide of bodies.

“Exercise… Sweat… Eww…” thought Jinki with a shiver, flattening himself to the wall.

          Last out of the door were Taemin and Jongin, laughing together about something or other. Jinki smiled; Jongin was a good friend to Taemin. They had similar interests, they were a pretty similar age, and he was pretty sure they had 9 out of 10 classes together at school. They had each other’s backs, and it made Jinki feel better that someone was there to look out for Taemin when he couldn’t be. Besides, Jinki had a sneaking suspicion that Taemin had a tiny crush on Jongin. (And that Jongin probably had one back, because really, Taemin was a very beautiful boy).

Wait.

They just came out of a dance class. Exercise, sweat, and all that stuff. The rest of the class were clad in loose vests and t-shirts or less – so… why was Taemin wearing a hoodie? Surely he’d be absolutely boiling? This actually wasn’t the first time Jinki had wondered why Taemin wore hoodies so much nowadays though. Taemin never seemed to wear t-shirts much anymore. And it definitely wasn’t some sort of fashion statement – he wasn’t Kibum. Besides, it was almost summer, so the weather wasn’t exactly freezing.

Well, only one way to find out.

Taemin spotted Jinki first, and tugged Jongin along behind him.

“Hi hyung~” he greeted, “ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure; but Taemin-ah, why are you wearing such a thick hoodie for dance class? Aren’t you hot?” Jinki asked.

“The room was actually pretty cold,” Taemin replied smoothly, with an easy smile, “It’s important to stay warm for maximum flexibility, hyung.” It was almost rehearsed…

“Yeah, but it makes it difficult to see your body moving as much Tae,” interjected Jongin.

Jinki looked at him and quirked an eyebrow. Jongin turned scarlet.

“J-just… I mean, for t-technique… purposes and…” he stuttered, trailing off, and suddenly becoming very interested in his fingernails.

Jinki chuckled lowly, before Taemin began telling him all about the new routine they were learning, and how technically complex it was, and the three of them walked off down the hallway.

          But it came back to Jinki later that night, poring over some new sheet music. He really had quite a strong feeling about what was going on now… He’d seen this kind of thing before; it wasn’t new to him, and he couldn’t ignore it. He had noticed it again as the trio were walking down one of the school’s busier corridors on the way out of school. Taemin had winced each time another careless student, preoccupied with battling their way to their locker to retrieve their books and escape home, had banged against his arm just a little too hard…

          He’d seen this kind of situation get nasty in too many ways way too fast, and he didn’t want that for Taemin. He knew his mind had been made up from the moment he’d begun to suspect what was going on – he had to do something.

          Sat on his bed, he discarded his music momentarily and dragged his laptop off his desk, opened it up, and rested it on his lap. Once it booted up, he brought up Facebook and opened up a new chat window with Taemin. He looked at his bedside clock. 17:54pm blinked back at him in red digital numbers. Not too late.

JINKI: HEY TAE~ YOU FREE THIS EVENING?

He tapped the enter key to send it, and waited. Taemin was usually pretty quick with replies, but he could be in the middle of homework or something.

          A couple of minutes later, while Jinki was looking through some new music on Youtube, the little “message” icon popped up, and it was Taemin. He opened up the window and read

TAEMIN: HELLO HYUNG~ MHM, IT’S JUST ME AND OURAN HIGH SCHOOL HOST CLUB TONIGHT, SO I SUPPOSE I AM :P

Perfect.

JINKI: CAN YOU MEET ME AT THE PARK? NEED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING^^

He felt like the smiley would probably take the edge off what he was saying – smileys make everything less ominous, right?

TAEMIN IS TYPING…

    TAEMIN: UMM YEAH. IS SOMETHING WRONG HYUNG? >.<

Jinki sighed. His smiley strategy was evidently less effective than he anticipated.

                              JINKI: NO~ EVERYTHING IS FINE TAEMINNIE^^ SEE YOU BY THE GATE AT 7?

TAEMIN IS TYPING…

    TAEMIN: OKAY THEN :D SEE YOU THEN~ ^w^

Sorted.

Jinki took a deep breath. Now, time to implement his plan…

 

 

          7pm saw Jinki scrolling through his Instagram, leaning on the railings by the gateway to the park. It wasn’t quite dark; it never was in the city though, even here on the outskirts, but the sun was almost set. The park, at least from the entrance, appeared deserted, and the street it opened out onto was quiet also.

          At 7:03pm, Jinki saw Taemin crossing the street, once again clad in a hoodie with his customary skinny jeans and high tops. He shoved his phone in his back pocket. He tried to, he really did, but once again he just couldn’t justify Taemin’s choice of clothing. Sure, the night was drawing in, but it was hardly cold – Jinki was only wearing a faded band t-shirt, a light jacket, and jeans, and certainly wasn’t feeling the chill. As Taemin got closer, he plastered a happy smile across his face.

“Hi hyung,” said Taemin, “what’s up?”

“Hey Taemin-ah. Let’s walk,” Jinki replied, not answering the younger’s question. With that, he turned, and began to walk along the path leading into the park before the younger could question him further. A slight frown creased Taemin’s delicate features, but nonetheless, he followed.

          The path meandered along gently through the park. It was a nice space; just enough trees to give a sense of “escape” from the city just outside, but not so many as to make people feel like “this is probably where Slenderman hides”. Jinki sighed inwardly at his own immaturity. This was a serious situation, which called for serious thoughts.

          The night was still. The sound of passing cars seemed distant, and even the rustling of newly grown leaves above them was soft; the pad of their shoe soles against the pathway was their only companion.

          Jinki didn’t break the silence, and neither did Taemin, but Jinki watched him from the corner of his eye. Taemin gazed around as they walked, taking in their surroundings with gentle, vulnerable eyes. The dimming light threw the smooth planes of his youthful face into sharp relief, and for a moment, he looked far older than he should have. Jinki wondered if Taemin was even conscious of the way he constantly fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves.

          Up ahead, Jinki saw a worn wooden bench looking out over the slow flowing river that wound through the park. It was so familiar to him now. He had come here often in the past in times of stress, and the place always brought him great peace. It was just what he needed tonight. He left the path to walk towards the bench, and Taemin followed. Upon reaching the bench, Jinki sat, patting the space beside him, and Taemin sat too, drawing his knees up to his chest.

          The gentle gurgle of the water drifted around them, and with the sun now fully set, Jinki gazed up to see the stars, grateful for the fewer number of trees growing by the riverside. After a pause, Jinki took and deep breath, and spoke.

“So, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Another pause that stretched on into unresponsive silence.

“Okay then. So maybe at a glance you’re still okay; you’re still hanging out with all of us at school like normal. You’re still doing exceptionally well in all your classes. You’re still dancing, and you get better every day.”

He took a breath.

“But what about if we really think? Like really.”

He paused to check Taemin was listening. Wide eyes peered over the top of his jeans clad knees.

“You’re hanging out with us, but you’re just that little bit more quiet that usual. Not noticeably so, just… that little bit. You’re doing well in your classes, but you’re studying overtime. You’re struggling; you’re just doing it quietly. You’re dancing, but your passion, it’s just… It isn’t the same. I’ve watched you. I can tell. Oh-“ he laughed a little, “and you’ve been wearing long sleeves all summer.”

He paused.

“I wasn’t born yesterday Tae…”

Taemin’s head was now buried in his arms folded on top of his knees. He was still completely silent. Jinki extended a hand as if to comfort him, but drew it back. Taemin might not want him in his space right now. He took a deep breath.

“…How- uhm… How bad are they?” Jinki asked tentatively. He left it open; Taemin could either tell him, or he could show him.

He chose the one Jinki hadn’t really expected.

          After a moment or two, he uncurled from the little ball he had made of his body and visibly exhaled. Turning slightly to face Jinki, he moved and began to roll up his sleeves. Jinki braced himself. Taemin extended his arms, face turned away.

          Bathed in the pale light of the stars, Jinki could almost fool himself into thinking what he saw wasn’t real.

          His left arm was was like a collage of trauma. Stretching from his wrist up his forearm for 3 inches, and averaging about just over 2 inches across, was a criss-crossing patchwork of lines, all in various stages of healing. There were so many in the small space it was literally impossible to count. If he had to guess a number, it would be well into the hundreds. Set to the left of that down his inner wrist were the characters “나쁜” - bad. Moving up from there, across the main middle part of his forearm, the phrase “이 느낌 없이는 죽은 거나 마찬가진걸” had been carefully inscribed. “Without this pain, it’s like I’m dead.” It made Jinki’s heart hurt. Stretching up from there Taemin had drawn so many stars, all about an inch high and wide, trailing up and into the rolled up sleeve of his hoodie. It was like a reflection of the sky above them.

          His right arm was less complicated, just a mess of criss-crossing lines all over, varying in length, and again, stages of healing. Jinki assumed that this was because to cut on his right arm, he would have to use his less dominant hand; his left.

          Finally Taemin spoke, dropping his arms to rest at his sides. A pained expression pulled at his features, and Jinki read the conflicting emotions running across his face like an open book.

“I’m… I’m sorry, hyung…” Why was he sorry? He didn’t even know… He was ashamed, he felt vulnerable, and his chest just hurt in ways he couldn’t put into words.

“But, h- how did you…?” Unshed tears glistened in Taemin’s eyes as the words tumbled from his lips, catching the glimmering starlight from above like the river flowing before them.

          Onew pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing the younger boy so hard he might break. His embrace said warmth, it said safety, it said “I’m here for you,” and just for a moment, Taemin never wanted to leave. What Taemin never expected, however, was the understanding that came next, as Onew whispered to him,

“I do too.”

 

 

A/N: Well, there you have it. Was it what you expected? I really hope you liked it >.<

I just want to make clear that althought I put some kind of humorous/sarcastic stuff in there, SELF HARM IS A VERY SERIOUS ISSUE. I guess you could say that trying to be a bit more relaxed about it is just one of the ways I cope with it? We all have our mechanisms.

On that note, please remember, dear reader I AM HERE FOR YOU. I have experience...

Seriously. DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT SUFFERING IN SILENCE. It doesn't work, and I've seen it go very very wrong. Please, drop me a message, talk to me. I can't magic all your problems away, but I might be able to help somehow?

IF IT MATTERS TO YOU, IT MATTERS TO ME.

I put that in there because that is what I think, and it is what I tell ALL my friends. You are worth my time, I can guarantee it.

I will probably add to this note when I remember all the things I wanted to say but forgot to put, so yeah...

SUMMARY: Hope you like it *sweats nervously* and I'm here for you. *hugs*

DONE