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“Jongin,” Taemin casts a glance over his shoulder before bounding after the other. Despite being unfamiliar with the venue, Jongin moves swiftly. He doesn’t know where he’s going. Probably doesn’t care, so long as it’s away. “Jongin.” Taemin tries more insistently.
The other, uncharacteristically pressed, doesn’t answer. He continues his silent journey to nowhere. The other dancer moves with the determination of someone who knows where they’re going - even though he does not. Luck smiles upon him, though. Good fortune comes in the form of a deserted bathroom buried deep in the guts of the venue’s bottom level.
A loud sound echoes down the empty corridor as Jongin roughly throws it open. Taemin frowns. He narrowly avoids getting smacked by the revolving door when he follows the other in.
“Jongin,” Taemin tries to put on a smile.
It’s not easy. Not when he’s faced with Jongin like this. The main dancer hunches against a wall, arms crossed and face schooled into an expression of dissatisfaction. Wetness glosses over Jongin’s eyes, betraying the scarcely contained sorrow.
“Jongin,” Tae smooths his voice into something satiated. “It’s our first stop.”
“And?” The response comes out clipped, the beautiful dancer’s plush lips forming into a pout. It shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. In other circumstances, Tae would probably tease him for it, but not now. He understands more than anybody the frustration of a botched performance.
SuperM promotions tore everyone away from their status quo abruptly. Sure, all of the SM family artists pride themselves on being adaptable - they’re molded to be just so. They can change almost anything at a moment’s notice. Hair color, choreographies, lyrics, personas, and decorum. Sure, some shifts are more subtle than others, but they’ve all been there before.
Even so, the formation and promotion of SuperM felt sudden even compared to their normal schedules. The unit quickly got to work, recording and practicing, readying themselves for the tour that would come just weeks after their debut. They put their blood, sweat, and tears into perfecting their performances, to being just perfect for the fandom they’ve yet to name.
However, if there’s one thing any of them have learned, it’s that mistakes happen. Even if they practice a hundred-thousand times, there is always the possibility of making a mistake. The possibility is multiplied even more by errors in other parts of production - sound, cameras, lights - even the tiniest slip-up can cause a ripple.
Unfortunately, that’s what happened with Jongin.
An issue with sound rippled into him missing his cue and messed up choreography. Though his mistake wasn’t the only fumble that happened - there was the translator issues that prompted Mark to ramble as compensation, there was the wardrobe malfunction that resulted in lost tassels on Taemin’s costume - but Taemin knows those can’t compare to the devastation one must feel for their own solo to get messed up. With all eyes on him, he failed, and, sure, the fans can say it’s okay, but it’ll never be okay to him.
And that is why Taemin can’t summon the mirth to even tease Jongin right now. Because he knows how devastated Jongin is, how he puts his all, and then some, into his performance. The last thing Taemin would want to do is to further upset him. He can hardly bear the sight of the other as he is at that moment.
“I’ve been doing this for- for how many years?” Jongin lets out a wry laugh, sniffing afterward. “It’s pathetic.”
Taemin steps forward, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder and rubbing soothing circles, “These things happen.”
“I should’ve known-”
“How could you have anticipated a tech issue?”
“If I’d listened better-”
“It’s humiliating, after all this time I- I can’t even do something so simple,” Jongin wrings a hand through his hair. “And then I cried about it in front of everyone, too.”
“And so what if you did?!” Taemin’s voice echoes loudly across the restroom. It surprises Jongin just as much as it surprises him. The other gives him a wide-eyed look of shock. “You’re human.”
“Not on stage. I’m a performer- we are performers. You know this just as well as I do. We don’t make mistakes. At least- we’re not supposed to-”
“Well obviously, we do. And what’s with acting like you’re the only person who’s ever messed up, huh?”
“Because I-”
“You what? You’re some god now? Is that what you’re saying?”
Jongin’s gaze drops, “I-”
“You what-?”
“I expect better of myself!” Jongin slides out of Taemin’s loose grip. “Do you think the hotel gym has space? Maybe I could practice. It ought to be deserted late.” He mutters to himself as he walks away.
Taemin glares at the other and loops his arms around the dancer’s neck. Yanking the other toward him, he brings a hand up to cup Jongin’s face, swiping a thumb across the other’s wet cheek.
“There will be a time and place to practice, but you need to rest,” The elder says. Jongin responds with nothing but a shaky-lipped pout.
“As if you wouldn’t be the same if you’d messed up.”
“Wh- Hey, this isn’t about me.”
“What if it is?” Jongin finds Taemin’s gaze again, brows knit and eyes teeming with tears.
“Jongin…”
“It’s about me and you and- and Mark, Taeyong- everyone. My performance doesn’t only disgrace me, it disgraces everyone. And it’s my fault.”
“Jongin, nobody thinks you’re a disgrace. Need I remind you Mark played translator half the time and couldn’t find anything better to say about this place than: ‘you’ve got good barbecue’?”
Jongin’s nostrils flare, and the storm clouds part ever so slightly. The other exhales through his nose slightly louder at that. Taemin counts it as a small win. He can tell the other is starting to thaw. With a tiny grin, he presses.
“Yes, you need to practice, but you also need to rest. The world won’t be able to witness the awesome powers of SuperM’s Kai if he falls asleep on stage.”
“What awesome powers? I’ve been dancing for almost twenty years and I still miss fucking cues.”
“And yet, the fans still loved it. I loved it. It’s not like a comet came crashing into the arena- you didn’t anger the gods.”
“I didn’t love it,” The other sulks. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. It wasn’t good enough.”
Taemin sighs, resigned. He can’t fault the other for being so self-critical. He’s exactly the same way, and he’s fairly certain he’d be livid or inconsolable in the same situation. That’s why it kills him so much to see Jongin in that place. Nothing Taemin says will pull him out of that place. Jongin may very well fall asleep that night replaying his number over and over and over again. It’s every performer’s nightmare, and with the added pressure of a new group and packed venue, it only makes the failure more agonizing.
“So we work harder tomorrow. The concert is over, and what happened happened. Let’s get some rest, get some food, okay?” The (slightly) older man says softly. He fingers the blue locks on Jongin’s nape idly, taking in the other’s distressed expression. Anyone with functioning eyesight can discern that Jongin is absolutely stunning. He even wears emotions such as sorrow and anger beautifully. The sight makes Taemin’s heart ache, the hollow pang echoing across his body from his chest.
Taemin’s gaze gets drawn in by Jongin’s lips. Plush, wet with salty tears. Inviting.
“Th-They’re probably looking for us,” He stutters quickly. Just as he’s about to unravel himself, the other surges forward, catching his lips. Fire erupts in Taemin’s core, singing his insides
Jongin’s lips are every bit as pliant and delectable as they look. A tinge of salt hits Taemin’s tongue as he sucks on the other’s lower lip. Jongin grips the front of Taemin’s shirt in a vice as he vents his frustrations - and everything else that’d been bubbling between them - into the kiss. A little whimper leaks out from between them, and Taemin can hardly tell who it came from. It doesn’t matter, anyway. He knows this moment is fleeting, and when they step back, they’ve got a world of consequence to face.
Until then, he relishes in the other fervent kiss, in the way Jongin nuzzles his nose just so, the eager kitten licks of his tongue wanting for more, the steely grip bunching up fabric disallowing escape. The other smells of soap and Gucci cologne, underlined by sweat not yet showered off. His lips are downright pillowy, and kissing them feels sinfully indulgent like dark chocolate and wine before dinner. The soft smacking of lips and quiet murmurs echo across the bathroom. The sounds are almost deafening, only drowned out by the surge of blood rushing through Taemin’s veins. A curse is muttered here, a whine let out there, whatever can escape the vice of their locked lips until they finally exhaust themselves.
Jongin chases Taemin’s lips momentarily before finally committing to the part. Their gazes lock, and though a thousand questions float between them, not a single can utter a word.
Perhaps the two would have been plunged into an awkward silence, if not for the emergence of something entirely more awkward. Abrupt and alarming, the door behind them flies open. Its handle smashes into the doorstop on the wall with a thunderous clang, causing Jongin to jump. The pair parts sheepishly. It’s not as if being found hugging is weird. The sudden separation is probably more strange than not. However, after what they’d done, it’s reflexive. They just-barely missed getting caught making out. Taemin’s pretty sure they’ll be jumpy for a while.
“Jongin-ahh! There you two are,” Baekhyun leans against the doorframe with a lopsided smile. “Found him!” He hollers over his shoulder. “Jongin, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
Jongin nods numbly, eyes darting between himself and Taemin, partly shocked part paranoid. Taemin can’t help feeling anxious himself. Even though they’re usually affectionate, and they’re best friends, he can’t help wondering if people can tell. What if something is off? Can they sense it? Can they tell the flush of their cheeks and swollen lips are indicative of more than just crying?
“Sorry,” Jongin mutters, shooting an insincere half-grin.
“You’re such a drama king,” The eldest tuts affectionately. “Don’t worry, I brought your happy vitamin.”
“My what?”
Mark’s head pops over Baekhyun’s shoulder, and he flashes Jongin a grin.
“Hi, hyung!” Mark gives Jongin a cute, little wave. Taemin can’t help chuckling, endeared by the younger members of their ranks. He backs off, inviting the other to embrace his best friend.
The two of them are ushered out of the bathroom. Baekhyun and Mark attempt to cheer Jongin up with compliments and funny stories. Taemin’s happy to smile and watch. Occasionally, his eyes meet Jongin’s, and between them, a knowing glimmer of something ignites.
There are feelings and questions and doubts all bottled up in there. It’s not as if the thing between them is brand new. It’s like a fire always burning. Sometimes, it dies down to nothing but embers in the back of Taemin’s mind, a low priority compared to album preparations, shoots, and TV appearances. Other times it burns, bright and blinding, impossible to ignore and blistering hot. They’ve skirted around it for a long time, made some drunken declarations that can get written off - never acted, though. Though questions plague both of them, Taemin knows they won’t have the time or the place to talk seriously. Probably won’t for a long time. That’s the nature of the lives they chose to lead. They’ll get thrown back into the whirlwind of group meals, reviewing the performance, airing out concerns, eating, showering, packing, SNS posting, live streams - that’s what they have going forward.
But for now, for the short few moments, Taemin can take for himself, he’s perfectly fine reveling in the memory of that stolen kiss.