Chapter 23 #2
"KARMA!" I threw my hands up, nearly launching the controller into his monitor, my victory dance completely lacking in dignity. "SWEET, DELICIOUS KARMA!"
"That was LUCK!" He protested, but he was laughing, clearly not actually upset despite his outraged expression. "You literally came in last place three times! You don't get to celebrate one fluke!"
"Watch me celebrate." I did a little victory dance on the couch, completely ridiculous, not caring at all how stupid I looked. "Watch me. I'm the champion. The ramen cups bow to me now."
"The ramen cups bow to no one." He grabbed a pillow and threw it at me, which I caught triumphantly and hugged to my chest like a trophy. "Fine! Ask your question! Do your worst!"
"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?" I turned his own question back on him, grinning at his exaggerated groan of protest.
"That's my question!" He threw his hands up in disbelief. "You stole my question!"
"Loopholes, baby." I hugged the pillow tighter, savoring my victory.
"Now spill. I want cringe. I want secondhand embarrassment so bad I want to crawl out of my skin.
" He was quiet for a moment, the playfulness fading into something more real, his expression shifting as he considered his answer.
Then his ears went red — genuine embarrassment this time, not teasing.
"During our debut stage, I forgot the choreography." He said it quietly, his voice losing its usual brightness, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Completely blanked. For about eight counts, I just stood there while everyone else danced around me."
My teasing instinct faded immediately, sensing the real pain underneath. "That doesn't sound that embarrassing. It's live TV, stuff happens—"
"The company made me watch it back seventeen times." He cut in, his jaw tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "As 'correction.' To make sure I'd never forget again."
"Seventeen times?" The playfulness drained out of me entirely, replaced by something sharper. "Tae-min, that's not correction. That's cruelty."
"It worked." He shrugged, but the gesture was stiff, his shoulders tight with old tension. "I haven't forgotten choreography since. But I also can't watch any debut content without feeling sick."
The bond pulsed in my chest, and I felt his feelings bleeding through — old shame, fear of failure, the crushing weight of expectations he'd been carrying since he was barely more than a kid.
"The golden maknae." I said it softly, understanding clicking into place. "That's what they call you."
"That's what I'm supposed to be." His voice was flat, stripped of its usual energy.
"Perfect. Better than everyone else at everything.
Fans send letters calling me 'flawless' and I can't even open them anymore because—" He stopped, looking away from me, his expression closing off.
"Sorry. This is supposed to be fun. I'm ruining it. "
"Hey." I set the pillow aside and shifted closer to him, close enough that our knees touched, close enough to feel the warmth of him. "Look at me."
He looked, wary and vulnerable in a way that made my chest ache, his dark eyes shimmering with emotions he was trying to hide.
"You know what I think about 'golden' and 'flawless'?
" I held his gaze steadily, refusing to let him look away.
"I think they're boring. I think the guy who forgets choreography and builds ramen cup monuments and gets competitive about Mario Kart is way more interesting than any perfect idol could ever be. "
He stared at me, something shifting in his expression, hope warring with disbelief. "You're just saying that."
"I'm really not." I poked his knee firmly, making sure he felt it. "Perfect people are exhausting. I should know — I spent years trying to be invisible because I thought that was the same as being acceptable. Turns out it just made me lonely and weird."
"You're not weird." He said it automatically, like a reflex, “But I am glad to see you like this and not being quiet and running away from us.”
"I'm extremely weird." I corrected with exaggerated pride. "I ran away from five soulmates in a week. I categorize my socks by thickness. I once cried at a commercial for dish soap because the puppy looked sad."
A surprised laugh escaped him, breaking through the heaviness. "The puppy dish soap commercial?"
"Don't judge me, it was very emotional." I sniffed with exaggerated dignity, lifting my chin haughtily.
"I'm not judging." He was smiling now, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he relaxed. "I'm... honestly kind of relieved. That you're weird too."
"We can be weird together." I bumped my shoulder against his, feeling the warmth of the contact. "Start a club. 'Weirdos Anonymous.' You bring the ramen cups, I'll bring my sock categories."
He laughed — really laughed, the sound bright and surprised, his whole face lighting up. "Deal."
We sat there for a moment, something warm settling between us, the easy comfort of shared vulnerability. Then Tae-min's expression shifted, turning more serious, his eyes searching my face.
"Can I tell you something?" He asked, and his voice was different now — less playful, more earnest, almost nervous.
"Depends." I kept my tone light even as my heart rate picked up. "Is it going to make me have feelings? Because feelings are banned today."
"I lied about that." He admitted, his ears going pink again as he met my eyes. "Feelings aren't banned. They're just... scary. But you're scarier."
"Me?" I raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. "I can't even hold a controller right side up."
"Exactly." He said it like it made perfect sense, his gaze intense despite his nervous energy. "You're terrible at games and weird about socks and you literally ran away from me, and I still can't stop thinking about you. That's terrifying."
My heart did something complicated at his words, warmth spreading through my chest. "Tae-min..."
"I'm going to kiss you and I hope it don’ts make you uncomfortable or run away…” He said it in a rush, the words tumbling over each other in his haste. "If that's okay. If you want. You can totally say no and we'll just pretend this didn't happen and maybe play more Mario Kart—"
I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward me, cutting off his rambling with my mouth.
He made a surprised squeaking sound against my lips — genuinely adorable — and then his hands were on my face and he was kissing me back with enthusiasm if not skill.
When our teeth bumped together, he jerked back, mortified, his face bright red.
"Sorry!" His voice cracked with panic. "Sorry, that was—"
"Cute." I finished for him, grinning at his horrified expression.
"Cute?" He looked genuinely distressed, his eyes wide. "That's not what I was going for. I was going for smooth. Suave. Mysterious—"
"You squeaked." I pointed out, unable to keep the laughter from my voice. "When I kissed you. Like a dog toy."
"I did not squeak." His whole face was crimson now, indignation warring with embarrassment. "That was a... a masculine exclamation of surprise."
"It was adorable." I grabbed his shirt again, pulling him back toward me with determination. "Now do better."
Something shifted in his expression — determination replacing embarrassment, his jaw setting with resolve. "I can do better."
He kissed me again, slower this time, more deliberate, his hands sliding from my face to my waist. He pulled me closer, and I rewarded him by melting into it, letting him feel how much I wanted this through the soft sound I made against his mouth.
"Better." I murmured against his lips, feeling his smile.
"I'm a fast learner." He whispered back, his breath warm against my skin, and then proved it by doing something with his tongue that made me gasp.
His hand slid under my shirt, fingers brushing bare skin, and I arched into the touch without thinking.
He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against my mouth.
"Is this okay?" He pulled back just enough to ask, his voice rough in a way I hadn't heard before, his pupils blown wide.
"God, yes." I tugged at his shirt, my patience evaporating as I felt the pulsing of the bond almost make me go into a haze. "Off. This should be off."
He pulled it over his head so fast he almost elbowed me in the face, fumbling in his eagerness. "Sorry, sorry—"
"Stop apologizing." I ran my hands over his chest, feeling muscles flex under my palms, warm skin over hard definition. "Start kissing me again."
He obeyed enthusiastically, his mouth finding mine with renewed purpose. We kissed until I couldn't think straight, until his scent was everywhere, until I was half in his lap and his hands were exploring and I wanted more, more, more—
"Wait." I pulled back, breathing hard, my lips swollen and my whole body humming with want. "Wait, we should stop."
"Stopping." He said immediately, though his whole body was tense with the effort, his chest heaving. "We're stopping. That's totally fine. That's—" He took a deep breath, visibly struggling. "That's really, really hard, actually."
"I know." I rested my forehead against his, sharing breath with him. "But I want to do this right. With all of you….that..and I am still scared something is going to happen or have the urge to run away again.”
"That's fair." He nodded rapidly, still catching his breath. "That's so fair. You're so reasonable. I'm going to die, but you're very reasonable."
I laughed, some of the tension breaking, the sound bubbling up from somewhere warm in my chest. "You're not going to die."
"I might." He said seriously, his eyes still dark with want. "From wanting you. It might actually kill me."
"Then we'll add that to your trophies." I kissed his nose, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, light teasing touches. "Died from wanting. Very impressive."
"You're enjoying this." He accused, but he was smiling, his hands still warm on my waist.
"Little bit." I admitted with zero shame.
"Mean." He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close despite the fact that we'd agreed to stop, his chin resting on top of my head. "Can I at least scent you? Please? I want you to smell like me too."
"Where?" I asked, already knowing I'd say yes, already wanting it. He took my hand, lifting it gently, and pressed our palms together so our wrists aligned, his skin warm against mine. His scent sank into my skin — ocean and mint and something bright and young.
"There." He murmured, his voice soft with wonder. "So you carry me with you." We sat like that for a long moment, fingers intertwined, catching our breath, his scent mingling with Hwan's sunshine and Jin-ho's rain on my skin.
"For the record," Tae-min said quietly, his thumb tracing circles on my palm, "I'm really glad you're weird about socks."
"For the record," I replied, squeezing his hand, "I'm really glad you build ramen shrines."
"They're not—" He stopped, then laughed, the sound light and happy. "Okay, they're shrines. They're totally shrines."
"I know." I lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "I think that's great." When we finally emerged from his room, I found the others in the living room, pretending very badly that they hadn't been waiting, their casual poses too studied to be natural.
"Good game?" Hwan asked from the couch, his voice too casual, his eyes immediately dropping to our still-linked hands.
"I destroyed her." Tae-min announced proudly, finally releasing my fingers so I could settle onto the couch beside Hwan. "She's hopeless. The worst."
"I won once." I protested, and Hwan immediately shifted closer to press his shoulder against mine, his warmth seeping into my side.
"Luck doesn't count." Tae-min shot back, dropping into an armchair with boneless grace, sprawling like he owned it.
"I called him 'maknae,'" I told the room, watching Tae-min's ears go red all over again.
"And 'sweetheart.' He almost had a stroke.
" Tae-min sputtered incoherently, his face flaming.
Hwan burst out laughing, the sound bright and delighted.
Jin-ho looked up from his notebook with what might have been a smile, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.
Three scents on my skin now. Three bonds humming warm in my chest.
Two more to go.
I was actually looking forward to it…and maybe I really didn’t have a reason to run or hid who I really was or what I really wanted. Jeni was right…and I knew when I told her she would just give me a knowing look and tell her I owed her.