Chapter Text
Kibum comes to him first.
Taemin knows he’s the first because it’s 9:34 on a Thursday night, Kibum taps on his bedroom window, and he has a duffle bag pulled over his shoulder.
Taemin had been eating graham crackers and watching anime in bed when the knock came, and he’d been reasonably confused, but he’d let Kibum in anyway. As he watches Kibum wiggle over the windowsill, he takes note of how he’s wearing several layers of everything and how his little VW bug is parked out on the street.
“Hey,” he says when Kibum straightens up and tugs off a beanie or three.
“Hey,” Kibum smiles back, unwrapping a few scarves from around his neck like this is completely normal. “Can I spend the night?” he asks. “Or, the weekend?” He coils his scarves up neatly and tosses them and the beanies on Taemin’s Chair of Stuff in the corner. Taemin glances at his left cheek where he has hastily applied makeup over a slightly swollen spot and then back to his eyes. There’s something as off in them as the rest of this situation.
“Sure,” he shrugs, pushing Kibum’s bag closer to the wall gently with his foot. It rustles with the sounds of makeup and jewelry and coins. “Why didn’t you come through the front door?” he asks curiously. Kibum looks up from where he’s wiggling out of a few pairs of sweats and shorts.
“I didn’t feel like bugging your parents,” he shrugs. Taemin hums knowingly. Good point. It is kind of late. They can officially ask if he can spend the weekend tomorrow after school. “Hey, you know that extra backpack in your closet?” Kibum asks then. Taemin glances at his closet quickly and nods. It’s his shitty old one from middle school that he doesn’t even know why he still keeps. “Can I borrow it?” Kibum asks.
“You can have it,” Taemin says. He really doesn’t care. Kibum makes a noise, almost a protest, but he’s smiling again when Taemin turns back to him with a curious hum.
“Thanks,” he says quickly. Taemin nods again, taking a few steps back to sit on his bed and watch as Kibum unbuttons four or five shirts and folds them all neatly. He gets settled like he was before, bundled up in his blankets and everything, except on the right side of his bed instead of in the middle this time. Kibum heads to his closet and tugs the backpack off of the shelf Taemin had thrown it on. He walks back to his duffle and bends down to unzip it, then pulls out a bunch of stuff to transfer to the smaller bag. His makeup bags, his jewelry boxes, a bag full of coins and a wad of cash, brush and comb, toothbrush toothpaste and floss picks, body wash and shampoo, his hair straightener, phone charger, various snacks, and on. Then he fits all of his clothes in the now empty space next to what clothes were already in there.
When he’s done, he zips both up and pushes them even more out of the way. He’d had his pajamas under all of those clothes and he fluffs his fingers through his chalk dyed bangs with a satisfied little hum.
“There,” he says, straightening up brightly. He bounces over to Taemin’s bed and wiggles under the blankets with him, taking a graham cracker for himself and peering nosily at the laptop screen like usual. “What are we watching?” he asks.
“Swimming anime,” Taemin says, wiping a speck of dust off of beautiful Nagisa’s face. Kibum rolls his eyes and shifts to get more comfortable with his head against Taemin’s shoulder. He first nuzzles his cheek against Taemin’s shirt, but then hisses in pain and moves to rest his temple there instead. Taemin gives him his right earbud and sticks the left in his own ear, tapping the spacebar to start where he left off.
He’s not going to ask.
He can guess what happened anyway. It’s not like it’s not obvious. Taemin knows who Kibum is, knows who his parents are, knows that they one hundred percent to not approve of the kind of person that their kid became. He saw Kibum’s post about an hour ago that said nothing but “fuck it i’m gonna do it.” It’s not hard to put all of the evidence together. And Kibum obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, so Taemin’s not going to bring it up.
“How do you not have any napkins?” Kibum grumbles, reaching over Taemin for a tissue from his bedside table to catch his crumbs in. Taemin snorts. The tissues are his napkins. He flicks a graham cracker crumb at Kibum’s neck and ignores his indignant squawk in favor of focusing on his swimming anime boys instead. Kibum settles after a minute and does the same.
In the morning, Kibum scoots into Taemin’s bathroom after him, does his makeup up all nice and pretty, and throws another stuffed bag into the backseat of his car so Taemin can ride shotgun on the way to school.
~
“Wanna have a sleepover tonight?” Taemin asks casually during fifth period Psychology. He props his cheek up in his hand so he doesn’t fall asleep from the cozy warmth of the heated air, such a nice contrast to the snow falling outside. Kibum glances up from where he’s scribbling down the homework in his planner.
“I can’t, sorry,” he says. “Nicole and I have the same Lit project due on Friday so I’m gonna spend the night at hers instead.” He shrugs like he’s declining a simple offer to hang out instead of what they both know it really was. Still, though. Taemin hums. That’s a relief. He knows for a fact that Kibum hasn’t landed a friend’s place to stay at every single night in the passed month. He has a lot of friends, but sometimes luck just isn’t on his side. Taemin still feels guilty about the one time he had to turn Kibum down because his brother was having his girlfriend over for dinner.
“Well, if you’re free, let me know,” Taemin shrugs. He doesn’t want Kibum to have back problems from sleeping in his car again added onto all of the other shit he’s dealing with. He would be offering his bed every night if he thought Kibum wouldn’t get annoyed at him for it. He treads carefully, though, stroking Kibum’s pride, only offering every now and again like he would normally.
Kibum did come over just last Saturday, which Taemin guesses was recently enough. It wasn’t to spend the night, though; just to hang out and almost casually switch some clothes with the duffle bag that Taemin moved into his closet before he went to crash at Woohyun’s. Taemin took the liberty of hanging up some of his nicer winter clothes so they would be less wrinkled, which he knows that Kibum appreciates even if he did scoff at the lazy way he did it and spend ten minutes rehanging them all the proper way.
Taemin doesn’t know exactly why it is that Kibum has only told him. Maybe it’s because he’s usually so quiet about everything. Maybe Kibum just thinks he’s super trustworthy or something. They have been friends for five years, ever since art class in seventh grade. But of their close friends, he knows that Kibum spends more time with Jonghyun, and he knows that Minho definitely has more to offer in terms of both space and time, and he knows that Jinki is far more responsible than he is. Still, he hasn’t asked. Kibum has his reasons. And he’s a good friend. If he was the best person in Kibum’s mind to come to, Taemin isn’t going to go out of his way to prove him wrong.
~
It’s honestly fucking astounding how loud Taemin’s bathroom shower is when he’s not the one inside of it. He watches the door, amazed at how he can hear every rush and splash of the water as Kibum showers. It’s only loud in his room, too; he checked if he could hear it standing on the other side of his bedroom door and it was as muffled as showers usually are, which is good. It’s just… weird. To not be the one in there for once.
As he’s listening to the shower, he also hears Kibum sniffling grossly for the umpteenth time. It’s followed by two sneezes, the clatter of what sounds like Kibum’s tiny face cream container, and a barely audible hissed curse, and Taemin rolls his eyes. Holy shit.
The water turns off a few minutes later and Kibum steps out a while after that, towel hung over the heater to dry and dirty clothes folded neatly over his arm. He throws Taemin a quick smile as he tucks his clothes into his bag. Taemin looks him up and down appraisingly. Hmm. Blowdried hair, thick socks, his warm pajamas, and a loose beanie. Good.
“Here,” he says when Kibum comes up to join him in bed. He picks up the little medicine cup he went out to the kitchen to get earlier and holds it out. “There’s little tongue strips or a nyquil.” He couldn’t remember if Kibum could swallow pills or not so he just got both.
“Oh,” Kibum says, his voice thick with his congestion. “No, I’m good,” he mumbles, waving Taemin away. Taemin just looks at him for a moment.
“You are not getting me sick just because you want to pretend like your life is fine right now,” he says bluntly. Kibum winces and glares at him but Taemin holds out the cup insistently anyway. “Take the medicine,” he commands. “It’s not like I wouldn’t give it to you regularly anyway.” He shrugs. That’s like. Half true. Technically, he would never need to give medicine to a sick friend because a sick friend wouldn’t be spending the night, but also, if a friend did happen to get sick around him, he wouldn’t not help them. Kibum hesitates for a moment more, than sighs shortly and snatches the little strip packets out of Taemin’s hand.
Taemin puts the cup with the pill in it back on his bedside table gratefully. Good. Now Kibum won’t be sniffling every five seconds anymore and they’ll be able to sleep and then go to school tomorrow with enough rest.
Taemin frowns at his last thought, looking back up to Kibum. School. Ugh.
“You really shouldn’t be going to school like this,” he mumbles.
“Yeah, right, let me just ask my fucking dad to call me in sick,” Kibum snaps. His voice is harsh and sharp and Taemin blinks, taken aback at the suddenness of it. Shit.
“I didn’t--mean it like that,” he says, rubbing his nose embarrassedly as Kibum takes a few sips from his water bottle to wash the medicine down. “Just,” he says. That it sucks. That he can’t do that, that he can’t give the school an excuse for needing a break... but obviously, Kibum has been bitter about that for a while already. “Why don’t you just… skip tomorrow?” he asks. “You can stay here and use my laptop.” He doesn’t mind. It’s not like his parents are home during school hours anyway. “I think it’s like, five days in a row without an excuse before you’re considered truant.” It’s just a little cold. He can get better before that easily. Kibum scoffs, though, shaking his head.
“So, what, the school calls my parents and tells them I didn’t show up?” he asks. “I bet that will make their day, that I’m fucking floundering on my own.” He yanks Taemin’s blankets down so he can wiggle into the bed with him, but pulls them up to his chin and curls up into a grumpy ball. Taemin sighs, pushing his hair out of his face.
“That’s not…,” he starts. That’s not the point. A few days missed because of a cold isn’t floundering. And the imagined opinions of his parents aren’t worth risking his health over. “Like,” he says. “You don’t--”
“Taemin, can you just--” Kibum says loudly, but his words get cut off by a gross sounding cough. He muffles it into his pajama collar and pops back up when he’s done with a tired groan. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mutters. “I’m sick and cold and you’re stressing me out.” His words are clear but the little fingers he curls into the edge of the blanket are guilty and pleading. Taemin looks at him for a silent moment before snorting and shaking his head.
“Nice excuse,” he mumbles, wiggling to get comfortable and turning his desk lamp off. He’ll wake up early tomorrow, make some honey lemon tea or something for Kibum to sip throughout the day, and make him take more medicine before they leave. At the very least.
~
“Oh my god. Finally.” Taemin looks up from the manual of the game he bought earlier at Jonghyun’s voice. His friend is hopping off of the low wall and stretching, his usual wide smile back on his face as he watches his sister’s van putt into the dark parking lot of the mall. Taemin grins. Good. Jonghyun had been overhyping his hunger for the past, like, ten minutes. It stopped being funny after three. He tosses his game back into his bag while almost everyone else in their little mall group stands up as well: Amber, Yeri, Krystal, Sooyoung, Other Jonghyun. Kibum stays on the wall, but scoots closer to Taemin now that they’re the only two left.
“See you guys Monday,” he says, waving big at all of them. Taemin nods, waving small.
“You sure you two don’t wanna come?” Jonghyun asks, opening the back door so the others can climb in. “We’re going to get dinner at McDonald’s.” He wiggles his eyebrows invitingly. Taemin snorts.
“We’re leaving with my bro when he gets off work,” he says. “We’re gonna get free leftover cinnamon rolls.” They’ll be cold and kind of stale, but still. Free. And he can smother his in the free leftover glaze packets also. Kibum nods easily next to him with an agreeing hum. Jonghyun shrugs, hopping into the passenger seat himself.
“Alright, then,” he says. “Later.” He shuts the door and Taemin waves again as everyone else waves back until they’re out of the parking lot. Then he stretches his arms himself, yawning into his elbow. “Wanna go sit in Hollister until my bro calls?” he asks Kibum. Taesun’s shift doesn’t end for another forty minutes and he can’t take a nap out here in the cold. Kibum hops off of the wall and hikes his bag more over his shoulder.
“Actually, I wanted to go to Target for a little bit,” he says. Taemin blinks.
“Why Target?” he asks. “You go to Target for like. Toothpaste and cotton balls and--oh.” He rubs his nose as he realizes that that is exactly why Kibum wants and needs to go to Target. “Okay,” he says simply. He doesn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he had to ask such an obvious question. Kibum seems to share his sentiment, because he acts like Taemin didn’t even say anything other than “okay.” He flashes Taemin his regular smile and tugs him back into the mall, the only indication that his pride took a hit in the way he clutches the strap of his bag more tightly than usual.
Taemin is hit with that wave of productivity he always gets when he walks into Target as soon as he steps over the threshold. He guesses that’s what happens when he usually only comes here to get school supplies and cheap bodywash. He scoots over to the little bins of dollar things, inspecting the little toys and pens. Kibum comes over while Taemin is inspecting a pretty cute set of pink nail files. He shows Kibum the box; after a moment of consideration, Kibum takes it and tosses it in his basket.
When they set off deeper into the store, Taemin sticks to Kibum’s side and lets him lead. He doesn’t know where anything is in here; half the time he gets lost at the smaller target by their school. Kibum wanders to the hygiene aisle first. He walks down the shelves, checking a list on his phone every so often and lowkey squinting at price tags. Taemin shuffles along behind him as he collects an assortment of things: powdered shampoo, floss, deodorant, baby powder, an eyeliner pencil of a brand that Taemin remembers him scoffing at before. He swats Kibum’s hand away from a bag of cotton balls and tosses a bag of cotton rounds in his basket instead.
“There are more in there and two sides each, like, doubles it for the same price,” he shrugs. “Also I see coupons for them all the time.” Kibum hums vaguely in thanks and tugs him to the food aisles next. There he gets little packets of powdered emonade and ramen, and then Taemin loses track of him for a few minutes because he spots a section of his favorite chips and immediately zooms over there to inspect them all. His dad always says they got discontinued. He’s such a fucking liar. Taemin grabs three bags and hugs them to his chest protectively before he realizes that Kibum has wandered off without him.
He powerwalks passed the aisles in search of his friend; he finds him in the laundry section and skids to a halt. Aha. Kibum gives him the most judgemental look when he oh-so-casually tips his chips into the basket but doesn’t comment. Instead, he frowns between two boxes.
“What do you think, Generic One or Generic Two?” he asks. He holds up the boxes to show Taemin the different laundry detergents. Taemin looks between them slowly, and then at the box of fabric softeners in the basket. This seems… not right.
“I… have a laundry machine,” he says slowly. Kibum’s next breath catches such a small amount that if Taemin didn’t know him as well as he did he wouldn't have caught it.
“Yes, I am aware of that,” Kibum says. “Which one?” he wiggles the boxes again; Taemin reaches inside and picks up the fabric softeners to read the back.
“And you’re leaving most of your clothes at my place anyway,” he says. “I can--”
“No, I don’t--need you to,” Kibum says shortly. Taemin looks up into his eyes.
“It’s like five dollars for one load at the laundromat,” he says quietly. “Plus how much it takes to dry. Plus gas to get there.”
“I know that,” Kibum says. “Just--” he reaches for the fabric softeners but Taemin jerks them out of reach.
“You can use mine,” he says firmly.
“No, Taemin, I don’t--fucking--just let me do this on my own, I don’t need--”
“Kibum,” Taemin says. He tosses the box onto a random shelf and puts his hands on Kibum’s shoulders. “I get it.”
“You don’t know--”
“I understand the concept,” Taemin says. Yeah, he doesn’t know from firsthand experience, but he knows his friend. “I know you’re trying to do this as much on your own as possible. I know you’re trying to prove your parents wrong even though you haven’t even seen them since it happened. I know you feel guilty getting so much from me already. I know you don’t want to ask for more help.” He slides his hands down to hold Kibum’s wrists. Kibum is glaring at him, jaw clenched. Taemin keeps going. “I know that you don’t technically need me to do this for you. But, Kibum. I want to help you. Let me do this for you.” He gently tugs the boxes out of Kibum’s hands and puts them back on the shelves as well. “Please,” he adds. “Swallow your pride for this one thing and wash your dirty ass boxers at my place.”
Kibum is taking slow, heavy breaths through his nose as he glares at Taemin. If this were any other time, Taemin would be extremely fucking intimidated. Now, he holds Kibum’s gaze evenly for so long that people would start to think they were weird, if there was actually anyone in the laundry section of a mall Target at 8:30 on a Friday. It’s a long, long time until Kibum releases a heavy breath through his mouth and tugs his wrists away from Taemin’s hands.
“You say that like you think I have any pride left,” he snaps. Taemin sighs and rubs his hand over the back of his neck.
“Well, just because you don’t think…,” he mumbles back. “I can’t even make myself a real breakfast in the morning and your grades are better than mine.” He’ll be every ounce of Kibum’s pride if he needs it, but he knows Kibum has pride left. Just because it’s buried under a mountain of stress it doesn’t mean it’s not there. Kibum shakes his head, but he snatches up the detergent and dryer sheets and returns them to their right shelves.
“I’m just agreeing with you because I don’t want to start fucking crying in the middle of a Target,” Kibum tells him as he grabs his sleeve to yank him to the next aisle. Taemin shrugs. They’ll talk more and he’ll admit that he’s grateful and Taemin will apologize for putting him on the spot like that in a few days or so. They’ll be good.
“My bro has debate club on Wednesdays,” he says. “And you know my parents don’t come home until late. You can come over then.”
“Fine,” Kibum says.