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Taemin stares across the table, the food in his mouth feeling sour.
Something is wrong about tonight.
Ten has barely said a word since he got home, and it’s like he’s avoiding Taemin. About eight times now Taemin has entered a room and Ten almost instantaneously found a way to leave. One of those reasons being a three hour shower until Taemin went out to get some groceries – as he left, he heard the shower turn off and Ten start stumbling around.
Dinner is the first time they’ve really been in the same room of Taemin’s house for the past three hours.
He tries to think about what might be wrong; maybe Ten’s just feeling off today, a bad day at work perhaps. Maybe Taemin missed a scandal that’s getting Ten down. Maybe he’s just tired and irritable and is trying to avoid a fight between them.
He’s not sure what it could be out of the multitude of reasons, but it’s starting to play on his nerves, anxiety is starting to chew at his gut. Taemin puts his chopsticks down; one falls off his plate but he pays it no mind, staring across the table top at Ten and sitting up. “What’s wrong?”
Ten’s chopsticks freeze midway to his plate and he glances upwards, barely making eye contact for more than two seconds before his eyes skitter to the side, unable to hold it. Taemin sighs a little. “Ten, come on. It’s me. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”
“I know.”
The reply is cold, limp, hanging in the air and Ten goes back to silence, picking at his food. Taemin’s shoulders slump and he retrieves his chopstick from the table before picking his other up, pushing a mouthful of rice into his mouth. He chews slowly, the usual pleasantness of the dish seeming to stick around in his mouth and make chewing almost impossible.
“I want to break up.”
Taemin almost chokes on the rice as he inhales, head whipping upwards to stare at Ten. “ What ?”
“I want us as a couple to be over.”
Taemin stares, mouth falling open as he digests the words, running them over and over again until he’s no longer just digesting the words and one of his worst nightmares is stuck on a loop.
His hand reflexively moves to his arm, pinching the skin hard, but he doesn’t wake up.
This is happening.
“We- I- Why ?”
“I’m just…” Ten looks off to the side, staring out of the window. “There’s a lot going on and I can’t balance a relationship right now.”
“You’re not telling me the entire truth.”
Taemin can see it. The way Ten won’t entirely meet his eyes, the scrunch of his nose as he spoke, the way his top lip curls slightly – he’s lying about something.
Ten stays silent, chewing a few mouthfuls. Taemin stares at him, blinking.
How can Ten eat so casually like he hasn’t just ripped Taemin’s entire world out from around him?
“I don’t want to do this any more. We both know what’s going to happen if we’re found out, or if we ever have to actively come out about ourselves. I mean, you saw what happened to Jongdae-hyung for a straight relationship. My nerves are shot, I can’t keep doing all of this sneaking around and praying a cameraman didn’t catch that look we held for one second too long, or hoping that Dispatch didn’t catch a photo of you holding my hand under the table at a restaurant, or begging that a sasaeng doesn’t find out and sells the information. I don’t want to do it any more. I can’t do it any longer. I’m jumpy, paranoid, scared, all the time, and don’t… don’t think that I don’t love you or something like that because I do , I really, really do and this is killing me to say all of this but… But I just need to. Be alone and not in a relationship right now.”
Taemin swallows, a lump sat in his throat as if Ten has just put a knife through it, giving him a last few precious seconds before he pulls it out and allows the blood to run free. He opens his mouth a few times, closes it, blinks furiously. He doesn’t realise for a moment that he’s crying; something falls in his lap and when he looks down he finds a small wet patch on his jeans. Lifting his hand, there’s tears on his cheeks, free flowing, pouring as if a tap has just been turned on. He opens his mouth again, clamping his hand over it when a pained whine comes out his throat.
Ten winces, focusing on his food. “Can we just finish eating and then I’ll just. Go back to the dorms. Unless you want me gone now.”
Taemin stares, longer, until Ten is just a blur of black hair and a white shirt. He doesn’t… know how to answer that. How can he even try and comprehend what he wants Ten to do right now? He doesn’t want Ten to be breaking up with him, wants to be able to make some kind of fight for him, convince him not to leave but all he can do is sit and stare. How does Ten even expect him to be able to answer that?
“Taemin-.”
“-Eat.”
It’s more of a bark than a reply and Ten stiffens a little before looking down, focusing on eating his meal. Taemin shakes his head, slowly getting up from the table and drifting to the couch to sit down.
“Taemin, you need to eat-”
“-Don’t sit there and do this, just eat.”
Taemin really isn’t sure why this is his response. He should be kicking Ten out but he knows how hard Ten has been working with the NCT brand, with Seasons Greeting’s, with everything that their life details, and he can’t let him walk out without knowing he’s properly eaten.
They sit in silence as Taemin stares at the couch arm, tracking every little mark that Kkoong has used – neglecting her actual scratching post – counting the lines in the fabric of the couch, anything to try and distract his mind from what’s actually happening.
He’s eventually pulled out of it by Ten’s stool dragging across the floor and the sound of dishes being stacked in the sink. “I already took most of my stuff back to the dorm.”
When did he do that? How did I not see it was missing?
“I’m going to… just head back to the dorm now.”
Taemin nods, stiff, refusing to let his body move from the position he’s in, because, if he does, he’s going to grab Ten, not let him leave, and maybe that’s what he should be doing but.
But he can’t bring himself to. Ten wants to leave and he has every right to leave.
Even if it steals the oxygen from Taemin’s lungs, steals the blood from his veins, stills his beating heart and kills him in the process.
As the front door opens, he listens to Ten talking, seemingly on the phone.
“Ah, Minho-hyung? I’m so sorry to bother you on one of your days off but I think Taemin really needs you tonight. Would you mind coming over?”
The front door shuts and Taemin crumples. He sinks into the couch, his gaze focusing on the ceiling, the tears still running.
He’s pathetic. He should have chased after Ten, grabbed his wrist, begged him not to do this but then they’d be in public, in the eyes of anyone and isn’t that exactly why Ten wants to go? Maybe he could resign and – no. Ten would never give up his job and Taemin would still be in the public eye for years before they could do anything.
“Taemin? Taemin!”
Minho’s suddenly next to the couch, talking incessantly, asking questions.
Taemin finally breaks, a howl leaving his throat as he latches onto his hyung, sobbing into his neck and clinging as hard as he dares. Minho does nothing for a moment before he carefully gathers Taemin up, taking him through to the bedroom. They lay there, curled up, Minho just rubbing Taemin’s back as he sobs, screaming here and there.
When he eventually settles, with no more tears able to be cried, Minho gets him a drink, gently forcing Taemin to sip at it to prevent him getting dehydrated – and ah , this is why Ten called Minho over because Taemin can’t even bend his arm to take the glass.
When he wakes up, bleary, Minho discussing his schedules and asking if there’s any way to reschedule with Euisoo, Taemin rolls over and tucks himself into a ball.
He doesn’t care. He can’t bring himself to care. For the first time in his life, his career, dancing, and music just simply doesn’t matter.
How can it, when Ten has killed him?