Kaisoo One Shots

Brise (1/8)

Author: kyungflowers (ebabattex)

Rating: nc17

Genre: romance, baby!kaisoo, ballet!jongin, slight angst that you can barely tell

Word Count: 30k total (8-shot)

Originally found on: livejournal

  Shouts. He's accustomed to them, since his early years of childhood, since he learned how to difference his father's voice from any other sound in the world, since he could smell the wet dirt scent coming from the back yard as rain starts every May of every year. A feminine voice screeches through the walls of his room, he hears his father's voice hoarse and dominant, getting closer with every millisecond that goes by. Loud and hard steps coming from the stairs and he waits, stares at the door, one, two, three, one, two, three. Two more and the door flies open.

"Your sister's almost ready with dinner. Go to the store and get some tuna. We ran out of it"

Hi to you too, dad. The door slams shut again and is as normal as the shouting. He's accustomed to it as well.

He lets out a sigh and changes his pants. The sky is grey, maybe because of the rainy season, maybe because is getting close to 7:00 pm, but the clouds seem to move faster than usual. He's too lazy to get an umbrella so he goes out the door empty handed, two single bills of cash in his front pocket. One, two, three, one, two, three. Six more and he's drying his feet in the little mat before the door of the convenience store. Bubbly pop music comes from the speakers high on the walls, and he bops his head with every beat of the song towards the fourth aisle. He's back at the cashier half a song later.

Quickly, his steps take him home again. His sister is serving rice and a stew, too greasy but nobody tells her so – her temper is a little explosive. He drops the bag in the counter and quickly serves three glasses of water; the woman there just steals a glance and continues working on the plates. Hi, sis.

His father chews the fastest of the three; the boy is fixated on his food, not really hungry to eat quickly, not really hungry to eat at all, but he does anyways.

"How's school for you two?" – His father's voice is thick like sand paper.

"Good, you know I have this project soon, which reminds me I'll stay at Yura's from Tuesday to Friday, I'll surely be back at Saturday..." – his sister words are rushed, she munches on tuna pieces – "Jonginie, you'll have to help with dinner all these days" – she gives a smug smile and covers it quickly with her glass.

Jongin glares and his father looks at him, a permanent frown on his face. He's accustomed.

"And you?" – his voice speaks and is hard breathing for Jongin now. He had completely forgotten about it.

"I-" – he stutters, not good for a situation like this, not good for the 'confidence' he was supposed to show – "I- Good!" – Speak idiot, ask. – "Dad, I—I wanted- I know we've discussed this, before you say anything but- I was doing research and-"

His father's brow furrows deeper, he drops his chopsticks and folds his hands together under his chin. That's not good for Jongin. The boy takes a deep breath, drops his gaze and his sister has stopped chewing, her eyes wide open, switching between her brother and her father.

"I've gotten really good at it." – he manages to say, practically in a whisper, he's not even sure they heard him – "You would know if you ever went and watched but- I was doing research and there's an academy- is actually a ballet school. It's in the city. I know I've asked enough but this is-"

A loud punch makes him and his sister flinch. His father's knuckles are turning white and his hands are curled in fists, both on each side of his plate.

"You know you've asked enough but yet you keep asking for nonsense." – Jongin is scared to death now, he should be accustomed to this, he has heard it for years, but this always makes him anxious, dry in the mouth, tremble to his feet. The one of two topics they're not allowed to bring up – ever - is now there, he said it, and his father's neck veins are showing.

"I know." – Jongin defends – "But if you could understand what it means-"

"I know what it means" – his father responds – "It means bills, it means money, it means hard work that I know you are not ready to do"

"I'm not ready to do?!" – Jongin raises his voice and he regrets it. His father punches the table once again.

"I won't discuss this with you again." – he gets up and leaves. His sister is quiet and doesn't continue eating for a while. Jongin feels his eyes watering and has to pretend its itching. Boys are not supposed to cry.

"You have to do the dishes." – his sister speaks and it feels like his balls are twisting under the table.

-

Scribbling. Chalk over a dark surface, graphite over paper, he writes the same characters as his teacher in his notebook when someone taps softly on his shoulder. He turns his head and sees a round face on his peripherals.

"Did you ask?" – a low voice speaks. Jongin sighs and nods slowly. The boy sitting behind him in class understands his body language and stays quiet for a few seconds – "Not even when you told him we would get jobs over summer and winter break?"

"I didn't even get to that part" – Jongin twists his body in his chair and is now facing his best friend – "I didn't even tell him there's a scholarship, Kyungsoo" - and the last syllable sounds close to a sob to which the other boy opens his eyes in alarm.

"Then you didn't ask" – he tries his words to not sound like a scold.

"I did!" – Jongin raises his voice – "Is just he didn't let me finish!"

"Boys" – his biology teacher snaps at them – "If you want to continue your chat I ask you to please step out of my classroom"

Both of them straighten and mouth a "we're sorry" in unison, they pretend to continue writing for a minute, then Kyungsoo taps his shoulder once again.

"Did he hit you?" – his voice is a whisper now. Jongin quickly shakes his head and turns around.

"He just got all mad and left. He said I wasn't ready for that type of work"

"What?" – Kyungsoo asks in a frown – "What does that mean; you've worked part-time since you were 15."

"I don't know! Do you think he-"

"Gentlemen!" – the woman in front of the class interrupts them – "Please, continue your chat outside. I'm begging you. Just get out"
They gather their stuff quickly and leave the room suppressing laughter. Is not like is the first time they've been kicked out of a classroom before. Is just another paper he has to do for extra credit in biology.

"What were you telling me?" – Kyungsoo brings up the subject as they lazily walk down the stairs.

"Ah- that maybe he means I'm too immature still?" – Jongin frowns and his steps feel heavier next to Kyungsoo.

The other doesn't say anything and they reach the ground floor, biology was their last class so they can go home now.

"We'll figure something out, Jongin" - the other says, stretching enough so his arm is around his friend's shoulder – "Even if we have to fake your I.D and all the graduation papers, we've done worse things, that would be a child's game"

Jongin snickers as the long hall adventures in front of them, everything is in silence as the lessons continue and he feels a déjà vu as a thick and wet breeze washes his face.

-

Six year old Kim Jongin is sitting alone on a bench. His eyes are puffy and his nose is red. School is about to start and he doesn't have a lunch box like all the other kids. His dad has been at the hospital with his mom and his sister got a burn that morning from trying to fry an egg. They pinky-swore not to tell anyone. Jongin is hungry, he couldn't reach the cereal on the cabinets and there was no juice on the fridge. He waits for the bell or the call of his teacher. He waits and his chest feels a bit lighter with the cold morning wind tickling his warm face. Other kids are jumping and giggling and is just another thing he's different at.

Boys are on a side, girls are on the other. He's the only one in the middle. Boys have balls and trucks, the scheme of color that flies away are blues and greens. Girls have pink and red dolls and strollers. He's right in the middle. He feels his eyes watering again.
Last night his father got mad, he had told him he couldn't dance on his sister's bright pink tutu but he had wanted to do the same 'rivaltadi' – revoltade – as her, she was laughing and applauding him and he felt like his feet were bubbles. He was happy. His father pushed him into his room and ripped the piece of tul of his waist; he smacked him on the head and didn't say good night to him. That was the first night in all six years of Jongin's existence his father had not said good night.

The first of many.

For many months, he stole glances of his sister's room while she practiced her new ballet steps with her friends. He never dared to touch her tutu again, not wanting to provoke his father's anger, he just paid close attention to the way her feet swayed and how her arms and hands delicately stretched in the path the music left.

They had babysitters on the weekends as his father remained every hour of the day at the hospital; mostly it was the same young woman – with ugly skirts and snickers too worn out – she was nice, though, both siblings agreed. She helped Jongin with calligraphy and Eunmi with her Fouettés. She had a great love for ballet as well, and most Sundays were spent watching musicals and plays. His favorite was The Swan Lake – or something like that – and Kim Jongin had never seen anything more beautiful.

He visits his mother at the hospital a few days a week; she has lost her hair and her glance is darker as days go by, but still, she carries the same smile Jongin remembers since the day he was born (he likes to exaggerate). He takes a CD with him every time, and even though there's not a stereo, his mother hums to them every song on the list. Classical, rock, pop, traditional, and even those funny songs which lyrics he doesn't understand and the rhythm is too quick. All of those his mother hums and she coughs mid-way the list, spitting out a "Don't tell daddy" – as her eyes are red with tears and she breaths slowly.

"Be good, baby" – she would tell him at the end of the day, as Jongin's eyes start to fill with tears, he's the last to leave the room after the nurse tells him five or six times that is already time to go – "Always protect your sisi when we're not home and have nice dreams every night" – she caresses his son's cheek with pale and cold fingers and Jongin's tears fall almost in slow motion. It feels like nail scratches down his cheeks.

From a certain Sunday – a Sunday he remembers as dark colored, with grey skies and scented like green tea – his life looks like a blur, since the moment Eunmi picked up the phone and drop it just five seconds later, his school, his father and mother's faces, his room, his house, the walls, the picture frames that nobody has the courage to dust off, everything spins like the record playing piano songs in the turntables at dinner two months later, as a seven year old Kim Jongin eats for the first time without throwing up after his mother passed away.

All of this is frightening for Jongin as he remembers those days, days he never ever wants to go back to. His feet feel heavy and his chest is tight. Kyungsoo is next to him in silence on the way to his house and he steals a few glances every couple of seconds. Rainy days are like this for Jongin.

-

As an eleven year old, Jongin feels miserable (and deep down selfish) as he listen to music in his room, maybe too loud for his father's liking, but he wants to scape – he wants to leave this world and maybe jump into one of those other universes those scientifics were talking about on TV. He fights with his two remaining family members almost every day, feeling a heavy weight in his stomach every time his sister glares at him and every time his father threatens a smack on the head.

He feels it's broken. He feels his world broke that May his mother passed away - he feels the light went away from their household with the first ring of the kitchen phone. He can only take deep breaths when he sees musicals on TV – her sister not doing it anymore with him – but he feels a bit of joy in the beauty of the dancers. Each turn and each jump.

He scribbles down the dance steps his sister used to practice every day after school – Eunmi doesn't take lessons anymore since that Sunday of May – and Jongin sketches the form the best way his memory assures as it plays in his mind, too coward to dance it himself, even in the privacy and loneliness of his bedroom. He takes that notebook everywhere, feeling scared of someone to find it and make fun of him.

Glissades, pirouettes and jetés are not for boys.

He goes to school by himself after his father makes tasteless breakfasts, he never complains, happy it doesn't taste like anything; too much flavor still makes him nauseous. He sits in the middle of the classroom; far from the window as the clouds mock the entire town, never dropping rain, always leaving gray days on the first week of June. He's the last one to leave, not wanting to encounter crowds in the shoe lockers and knowing his sister is outside, by the gates, ready to bicker about him being late. It's the same and he's used to it.

He's ready to get out of the room when someone stumbles in and makes him drop his bag. Three notebooks fall off and exactly his sketch book flies open in the middle – Jongin is prepared for the storm of curse words and offenses that the other boy seems ready to give as he takes a peak of his face, round and too childish. He rushes to get his belongings and leave for sure when his hand touches the other boy's, trying to grab the sketch book. He's now waiting for a mocking laugh and the word 'pussy' for sure. Nothing comes as the boy opens his eyes wide and has a corner of his mouth higher.

"You draw really well!" – he beams, his gaze still on the pages – "I can see a ballet dancer here, it's great!"

Jongin's eyes furrow and his chest is tight.

"And you put a name to every step-wait, you like ballet?" – the other giggles as he flips page after another. Jongin is speechless for two seconds and suddenly snatches his sketchbook from the other's hands.

"Didn't your mother tell you it's rude to go through other people's belongings?"

The boy takes his hands to his back and stares at the floor, mumbling "I'm sorry" and running to his desk to get something. He's about the same size as Jongin but his limbs are shorter – especially his shoulders – and his dark hair shines immensely with the fluorescent lights. Jongin feels bad for snapping – he has been losing all normal contact with people, thinking they're all on defense mode as him and his family.

"I'm sorry if I yelled at you. That was really rude of me" – he starts, putting his bag on a desk and walking close the other boy. He has his sketchbook in hand and feels very awkward – "I do like ballet-" his throat closes at the end of the word, he has never said that to anyone.

The boy looks at him and Jongin can only notice how huge his eyes are, maybe because of his thick glasses – but his pupil is dark and is staring right through him. His smile is slowly coming back to his face as he nods in response. "My mom really likes it and my father is a local TV producer, we go to plays a lot!" – he excitedly answers and Jongin grins without really wanting to.

"I'm Do Kyungsoo" – he lowers his voice and scratches the back of his head – "I'm not sure if you know who I am, you seem oblivious all the time, but that's my name. I sit two rows and two sits behind you." – he points to his desk and he's right, Jongin didn't know his name at all. He only remembered that on the first day of school, he turned around to check a world map and Kyungsoo was frowning in his direction. He didn't have much interest in him after that.

This Kyungsoo now was a whole different Kyungsoo.

"I'm Kim Jongin" – he replies, the other only nods with a smile and his eyes get smaller. The word that Jongin's mind forms is just 'cute'. Kyungsoo grabs a textbook from his desk and moves to the door as Jongin follows his steps, looking for a cohesive sentence to follow their tiny conversation. Kyungsoo seems nice, and he's the first boy he hears saying something positive about ballet and dancing. His chest gets tighter.

"Do you dance?" – is the one thing he can think of, and it comes out lower that his regular tone, afraid anyone in the hall might hear him. Kyungsoo gives him another smile and shakes his head.

"Not at all" – he answers – "My grandmother said something one time about my body being too weak and my form being too uncreative... I like singing, though"

Jongin's mind trembles and his brain starts playing a soft piano melody that his mother loved, something her sister played every now and then when she practiced ballet a couple of years ago. It's strange, he thinks.

"Do you dance?" – Kyungsoo asks with interest, a few upper classmen walk by and Jongin glances in their direction.
"No" – is what he answers and doesn't say anything else.

-

In present time, their walk from school is quiet almost all the time, Jongin remembers casually how he met his best friend as tiny droplets of rain play with his hair; he feels lighter as they approach a two story building, plain looking from the outside but music comes from the inside, which gives it all the life it needs. Jongin smiles and quickly waves at the guy walking beside him and he climbs the front steps – two at a time.

"Remember to study for tomorrow's Literature test" – Kyungsoo reminds him with a serious expression.

"Yeah, yeah" – Jongin dismisses him before opening the door – "I can always copy you, shorty"

Kyungsoo remains serious for another three seconds before continuing walking; he doesn't say anything to Jongin.

"Hey!" – the taller shouts – "Say goodbye to me, you ungrateful monkey"

Kyungsoo raises his hand and waves to the air and Jongin chuckles.

The inside is cold and with so much light. He likes it that way. He follows the long hall of the first floor and removes his uniform to leave his dancing outfit when he's inside a wide room with a long mirror and three rows of bars. Another five people are in the same class as him, all women. He doesn't mind anymore as he used to.

-

"You say you like music, dancing and ballet and here we are, two months later and I haven't seen you take one single step" – Kyungsoo argues, his pencil bouncing on his fingers as he stares deep in Jongin's face – "I've sang for you a million times"

"You're good at singing" – Jongin answers without raising his gaze from his math exercise.

"And who says you're bad at dancing?" – the smaller stands on his knees – "I could tell you if you only danced for a second"

The house is quiet, Kyungsoo's parents are not home and they're supposed to be doing equivalent fractions. It's hard to concentrate with stupid piano music playing in the back. Jongin meets Kyungsoo's eyes and his mouth feels dry. The shorter has requested for him to dance uncountable times, every single one shot down by Jongin. Kyungsoo can be very persistent.

"I don't want to" – he says while drawing a petite girl spinning above a diamond on one of the pages of his notebook. He feels ants crawling from his toes and the song finishes. The room is quiet. The lie is too obvious if he dares to look at Kyungsoo in the eye.

"I don't believe you, Jongin" – the other replies. Quiet again and he changes CDs in his stereo. Soft and slow piano keys start playing again and Kyungsoo takes Jongin's pencil from his hands and taps it on his head – "You know you're the easiest person to read in the world, right?"

Jongin is about to yell at him when the song gets stronger and Kyungsoo has a shy smile on his face.

"I used to do this with my cousins back in preschool but..." – he puts a hand on the desk and straightens his back, his cheeks turn pink one second after and his feet get in first position, Jongin knows what comes next and his neck feels warm – "I'm doing this so you don't feel awkward so please don't leave me alone."

Kyungsoo bends his knees and lowers a few centimeters – a demi plié – and Jongin snorts softly and stands right in front of Kyungsoo and mirrors his position. His face is hotter than ever and his body feels stiff and numb, he can't remember another time he has felt that embarrassed but he can't help but smile as Kyungsoo laughs.

Kyungsoo removes himself from the desk and walks towards the stereo, he switches CDs and some soft hip hop plays.

"I'm really bad at dancing like this..." – he starts – "but since all you need is a push-"

He moves with the rhythm and his face is bright red, Jongin tries hard not to laugh, biting on his bottom lip and his nostrils get big. He thinks of a moment when he tried dancing, maybe on a family member's wedding, a birthday party, but he can't recall anything. He moves closer to Kyungsoo and is the most awkward he has been in his life, but he lets the music flow through him like water.
Kyungsoo's eyes get brighter as he smiles at him and continues shuffling softly.

Jongin tries to remember fancy steps he maybe watched on TV, he tries to combine with whatever he is feeling at the moment and he catches himself laughing loudly. This is the first warm memory he has since his mother passed away and that's the main reason he practically never leaves Kyungsoo's side in the following years.

-

"Jongin" – Kyungsoo says, his face is serious while looking at his best friend. They're in the classroom eating their lunches; the noise from their classmates is muffled, like they're in their own bubble. One facing the other.

"Kyungsoo" – the other looks at him in the eye with a mocking expression, he doesn't reply, just stays quiet, a few minutes pass and he repeats his friend's name.

"Don't ignore what I said" – the shorter bites on an egg roll his mother prepared for him, Jongin rolls his eyes.

"I didn't hear you, sorry" – he responds and his face shows no emotions, that pisses Kyungsoo off a lot.

"You liked it. You know you did and I know is eating you inside." – Kyungsoo speaks, his big eyes are focused on his friend's face and it looks like the other is ignoring him, but he knows very well this is how Jongin functions – "You want to go back."

"It was fun-"– Jongin cuts himself just as he starts speaking. It's irritating how Kyungsoo makes him speak; makes him reveal his thoughts. Thoughts he has saved for several good reasons – "But I can't go again. You understand."

It has been a little over a year that Kim Jongin is friends with Do Kyungsoo. You could say it was quick, you could say it was strange. The word Jongin prefers to use is 'easy'. Kyungsoo is the tiniest 12 year old he has seen in his life; he's funny and has a curious and tiny hump on his back. He's as blind as a bat and wears really funny looking glasses. He's perceptive and very easy to talk to, he understands how Jongin feels most of the time, he's smart, he gets good grades, he knows how to read sheet music and can play a few songs on the piano in his house. The most special thing about Do Kyungsoo – in Jongin's opinion – is his voice. It makes him remember the sound of cascades - not that he has ever gone to one.

So by the time 13 months have flown, Do Kyungsoo knows Kim Jongin's point of view. He understands why Jongin is always quiet when clouds cover the blue sky; he knows when Jongin doesn't like the spicy soup his mother made for dinner. Kyungsoo knows why he almost never dances, even though he can see the glow in his eyes whenever music plays, even though Kim Jongin has so much talent.

Kyungsoo understands. It doesn't mean he likes it.

"You heard how they can help you with the payments" –the shorter begins – "And my mom is friends with the owner, she can help as well!" – he insists.

Jongin looks out the window, then his food, he looks at Kyungsoo and then his food again. He doesn't say anything.

"Jongin..." – Kyungsoo's voice is serious and low – "I know what dancing means to you. I know it and you haven't told me. I know because is obvious."

Jongin doesn't look up and Kyungsoo is afraid his friend might start crying. Jongin has ants in his hands, he can't feel his toes, he remembers how fun it was to sneak in that ballet class – Kyungsoo by his side – and how that lady told him he had enormous talent and he could definitely come back. That was the longest he had smiled in years.

He got back to his house and his father and sister were fighting. His bubble broke and he remembered who he was and what he had to do. Boys play soccer and wrestle.

"I can't take dance lessons." - he mutters. He eyes at the people surrounding them and nobody pays attention.

"Are you scared of what your dad would say?"

I am. He says nothing, he goes to the washroom and he doesn't speak to Kyungsoo in two days. Kyungsoo understands.

That doesn't mean he likes it.