[fic] Minho/Key – SHINee – Branded

[rabenhorst]

Title: Branded
Author: fonulyn
Rating: PG
Pairing: Minho/ Key (also mentions of Key/OCs)
Other characters: OCs, Jonghyun, Taemin (mostly just mentioned)
Warnings: mentions of an abusive relationship
Wordcount: 3789 words
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: Every person is born with a name on their skin. It’s the name of the person who is supposed to be their soulmate. Kibum used to think it’s a perfect system. All he’d have to do was to find the perfect match.
Comments: welcome to the cliché world of soulmate!aus 8) seriously though, I’ve wanted to do one for ages now, so this was pretty much bound to happen. then foreverdreamingstar prompted me at tumblr with “everything is going to be fine, minkey” and what was supposed to be a tumblr drabble got a little bit longer. so here, have a fic! \o/
also, @foreverdreamingstar: I know it’s not exactly what you requested but I hope it’s good enough :3

Old habits die hard. Every time Kibum woke up he used to raise his arm to look at his left wrist. Even though he had barely managed to blink his eyes open, even if he was still half asleep, he squinted and read the syllables branded on him already before birth. He traced the messy scrawl in the exact order he always had, as he’d known it by heart already before he could read. Even now he does it, forces his eyes open and searches for the contrast of black on his pale skin. His gaze is blocked by a strip of fabric, just like it has been for months now. Even though he’s taken to covering the mark up, he knows what’s underneath. Like it had been burned on the insides of his eyelids instead of on his skin. With a sigh, Kibum closes his eyes. He doesn’t have the time to dwell on it any longer, not before an arm is thrown over him from behind and he’s pulled backwards into a firm chest. Instantly Kibum relaxes into the embrace, the heaviness in his chest easing up by the second. “What’s wrong?” Minho mumbles, obviously still half asleep as he buries his nose behind Kibum’s ear, tickling him with the overgrown strands of hair. “Why’re you sighing?” That’s about as much coherency as can be expected of him at this hour, but the obvious effort he puts into stringing the words together makes Kibum chuckle. “I’m fine,” he says, shifting a little bit on his place to press even closer with minimal effort. Minho meets his movements without a second thought until they’re snuggled up as cosily as it gets. It makes something warm splash within Kibum’s chest and he decides he could probably use a few more minutes of rest. “Go back to sleep.” Obediently, Minho does. Kibum still spends a moment enjoying himself, and how he’s being held so closely, so securely. Automatically his fingers find the black markings on Minho’s right wrist, and he brushes his thumb over the name branded there. His name. -- The first time Kibum thinks he’s met his soulmate is when he’s sixteen. The boy is tall and has dark, deep eyes that immediately pull Kibum in. They circle around each other for a couple of weeks and it feels like an eternity to the both of them before Kibum finally makes the first move. They have matching markings, and Kibum couldn’t be more excited. How many people can say they’ve found their very own prince charming already at this age? Impatient, Kibum wants to get to know the person he’ll be with for the rest of his life. It doesn’t matter that their relationship has all the markings of a turbulent short-lived teen romance. He knows they’ll pull through. He knows they will. They’re meant to be. Every time they kiss, Kibum touches the black marks on the inside of his wrist, sliding the pads of his fingers over them. He never expected to find his soulmate this soon. He hopes everyone could be as lucky as he is. That is, until he finds out his assumed soulmate also likes kissing other people. It’s okay, Kibum thinks, trying to pick up the pieces of himself. It’s okay. He’s young. He’s got time. He’ll find his actual soulmate soon. Very soon. -- “Do you want coffee before you go?” Minho asks, carding his fingers through his hair. As usual, it makes Kibum laugh and with three long steps he’s right there in front of Minho to smooth the stubborn strands of hair back down to their rightful place. “No, I’m already late,” Kibum replies and tiptoes enough to plant a quick kiss in the corner of Minho’s mouth. He’s already turning away when Minho grabs his wrist to pull him back in for seconds. Two kisses become three, until Kibum retreats, laughing. “C’mon, now I’m even more late.” He’s smiling, but it doesn’t pass Minho by unnoticed that he instinctively adjusts the bracelets around his left wrist. Minho knows better than to ask. They’ve been through this before. Yet he can’t help but speak up. “Kibum, you know I don’t care if you’ve got my name there. Why can’t you just let it go?” “I…” Kibum averts his gaze. When he looks back up he’s smiling again but it’s hollow, it doesn’t reach all the way to his eyes. “I need to go.” As the door closes Minho releases all air from his lungs in one exhale. Why should Kibum let the matter rest, he thinks, as he can’t seem to let it go himself. He means it when he says he doesn’t care what the name is on Kibum’s wrist. His parents weren’t each other’s soulmates, he knows that people can be happy together without that. In less than two weeks they’ve been together for six years. And Minho still doesn’t know why Kibum is so insistent in not showing him the symbols on his skin. Minho does know, however, that the whole soulmate system is rotten to the core. What good does it do to anyone to have a name carved on them for their entire life if it’s of no use? A first name, nothing else. No way to know which one of the thousands of people with that name actually is the one meant for you. Absently Minho rubs on Kibum’s name on his wrist. Might not be that he found the person it refers to. Either way, he doesn’t care. He knows what he feels. It’s more than enough. -- “I’m sure it’s him this time,” Kibum exclaims, unable to hold back the giddiness. “He asked me to move in with him.” If his first romance was a whirlwind where everything happened fast, this time around it’s been the opposite. It’s been slow and steady, and maybe that’s why it feels like it’s completely right. “If you say so,” Taemin answers with a shrug, barely glancing up from the text he’s sending, “at least he took his time.” “Why are you being such a spoil sport?” Kibum frowns. He can’t deny, he’s a little bit offended. He’s telling his best friend that he’s found his soulmate and the response couldn’t be less enthusiastic. “Just because you don’t believe in soulmates doesn’t mean you can’t be happy for me!” “Look,” Taemin looks up finally, meeting his friend’s eyes, “if you’re happy, I’m happy. I just think you’re putting way too much weight onto the whole soulmate business.” “Oh shut up.” Kibum huffs. There’s a smile right around the corner, though. His best friend might be cynical but it doesn’t mean he has to be. At least Taemin is there for him seven months later when he moves to live on his own again. -- Kibum used to love the whole idea of soulmates. Maybe his parents didn’t quite make it work, but there were so many other examples of wonderful matches. His grandparents had the most beautiful fairytale romance that he adored ever since he grew old enough to understand it. There were movies made of soulmates, books written about it, poems and commercials and everything you could imagine. During his entire childhood, Kibum was surrounded by beautiful stories of people finding their significant other, their missing half. So what if there were people who never got their happy ending? He was sure that he’d find it. He would. He loved the name written on his skin. Now Kibum hates the marks on his wrist. He wears accessories, anything from jewellery to wristbands. Sometimes he covers the black lettering with makeup. He has even considered having them surgically removed, but there’s a part of him that isn’t quite ready for that. It feels so final. He hates this soulmate bullshit. He hates he’s being forced to go through it. If he hadn’t grown to believe in it, everything would’ve been so much easier. Everything he has with Minho is… pretty much everything he ever wanted. Sure it’s not perfect, sure they have their arguments, sure it’s not always easy sailing, but they make it work. They always make it work. If Kibum is certain about anything, it’s that he loves Minho. But he’s scared. What if there’s someone else who is better for Minho? Another Kibum could waltz into their lives any day and turn out to be better suited for Minho. Surely Minho would jump at the chance of being with the person who was made for him. Kibum digs his nails into the soft flesh of his wrist. He knows the way it leaves crescent marks in the midst of the black scrawls. He’s afraid to admit he has everything he wants. That’d only make it hurt even more if it’s taken away again. -- The next time Kibum thinks he’s found his soulmate things don’t go as smoothly as before. They fight all the time, and they fight fierce. There isn’t a single day when they aren’t throwing plates or a paperweight, or at the very least hurtful words at each other. Still, Kibum is convinced that it’s going to be alright. They just need to make it work somehow. Until the biggest fight they’ve ever had. It starts out utterly ridiculous; they start yelling at one another over who lost the car keys this time. It’s not even really anything out of the ordinary when it escalates further and Kibum throws an apple at his boyfriend, only to have to dodge the actual set of car keys in question a moment later. There’s something about this fight that never happened before, though. Kibum isn’t alarmed when his boyfriend approaches him mid-sentence, but when his arm is grabbed and twisted backwards painfully he starts to really freak out. “C’mon, stop it. Stop it! Get your hands off of me!” “No, Kibum, I won’t,” the other man replies, no longer yelling. Somehow that’s even worse. “Not until you apologize.” “Apologize!?” Kibum asks incredulously. “No fucking way! Let go of me or I’m done. We’re done.” At first he gains no answer at all. Then the pressure on his arm eases up, only to be back again when his boyfriend twists it again until it’s right in front of Kibum’s face. Kibum is staring at his own wrist, at the name written there, and for the first time in his entire life he has to consider the possibility that maybe he’s got all this backwards. Kibum has never been scared of his boyfriend, not before, but right now when the grip on his arm tightens as it’s shaken to his face, his heart misses a couple of beats. Cold dread seems to collect in the pit of his stomach and he’d kick and scream if it wasn’t for the paralyzing shock. “See this?” the other man hisses through his teeth, his face so close to Kibum’s that they both have trouble focusing their eyes. It doesn’t stop any of it, and Kibum has no chance to speak properly before he’s cut off again. “This means you are mine. You belong to me.” Abruptly he lets go, all signs of anger gone as he grins at Kibum. “You’re mine. You’re not going anywhere.” With that he leaves, slamming the door on his way out. As soon as his breathing evens out, Kibum packs his bags. He’s out by morning. -- Kibum has never really been nervous about coming back to home, but well, he supposes there’s a first for everything. He’s not proud of how he reacted in the morning, and how he still can’t be completely honest with Minho. They’ve been together for the longest and he dearly hopes that they’ll continue to share their lives together for decades to come, but… some things he just isn’t ready to talk about. Not yet. Who knows if ever? Thankfully Minho is already there, standing in the living room while sorting through the pile of mail of the day. As soon as he notices Kibum he looks up, smiling in greeting. “Hey. Did your boss give you hard time for being late?” he asks, the first thing, and Kibum’s heart practically melts in his chest. “He didn’t even notice that I snuck in later than usual,” he says, approaching Minho. As soon as he’s close enough he throws his arms around Minho, hugging him close. It feels good, like he doesn’t even need to hold himself up as he can only lean against Minho and trust him to keep him from falling. Which makes him feel even worse for not being entirely upfront about everything, but he tries to squash the feeling down. He doesn’t even know why the topic has been popping up today a lot more than usual. “Look, Minho, I’m really sorry about this morning,” Kibum tells Minho’s chest. His voice comes out mumbled but he doesn’t even try to withdraw as he’s really good right where he is. “It’s okay,” Minho answers without missing a beat. He brings his arms around Kibum, squeezing him a little closer. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have pushed,” he cringes, and it’s audible in his voice, “again.” Seems like they both have been thinking of the morning. Kibum buries his nose in Minho’s shirt one more time, inhales deeply, and then pulls back just enough to look at him properly without losing the warm embrace. “You know, I only got through work because I was planning how we could spend the evening,” he admits, a grin tugging on his lips. “We could order in? I’m so not in the mood for cooking. Or,” he chuckles, “I could watch you cook?” Minho laughs. “No, I think we’ll order something. And eat on the couch while watching TV. That sounds like a masterful plan if you ask me.” “It’s a deal,” Kibum agrees immediately. He stands on his toes, reaching up to plant a quick kiss on Minho’s lips. “I’m just going to take a quick shower, okay. Give me a second.” “Take all the time you need,” Minho says, patting Kibum’s bottom. “I’ll try to see if I can do something about the bookshelf. It’s still wobbly.” Kibum chuckles, finally able to bring himself to detach from Minho. “Good luck with that. Try not to get yourself killed.” -- The next person Kibum dates isn’t his soulmate. He knows because the man’s name is nowhere near his soulmate’s name. He swears he’ll never date anyone with that name again. He doesn’t want to get to another disaster like the one he’s just lived through. So, no soulmate for him. He’s fine with it. He will be, at least. Eventually. -- Kibum presses his forehead against the cool tiles in the bathroom. It feels good in contrast to the hot water running down his back and finally his muscles start to relax. It’s been a long day, but finally he’s home and can spend some quality time together with Minho, and Kibum can’t help but smile to himself. Absently he rubs on his wrist. The makeup has worn thin in some spots already, even though it’s the very water resistant industrial kind. He hasn’t covered the marks up with it in a while now, so it feels strange when he finally begins to clean the makeup off and the black curves come more and more visible. It’s sort of hypnotizing, even, but after a while he shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut to break himself out of the trance. With a sigh he throws the sponge into the sink, diving under the water spray as if it could isolate him from the rest of the world for just a second. He’s too tired for the makeup again today, though, he’ll just have to wear a wristband or something. He’s got a ton of them. Suddenly, there’s a loud crash from the direction of the living room. It sounds like a wall has just fallen down, in the least, and it’s instantly followed by an outcry from Minho and it makes Kibum panic. He barely manages to turn off the tap and grab a towel to wrap around himself before he’s out of the door, sprinting to the living room to see what’s happened. “Minho! Are you alright?” He comes to a halt in the doorway for a second, instantly relieved as he sees that Minho is standing up, obviously not harmed at least badly. The large bookshelf has fallen down, all of the items that used to be on the shelves now scattered around the floor. Minho is holding his elbow, otherwise seeming just spooked, but Kibum hurries to him anyway. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asks, gently grabbing Minho’s shoulder. He needs to see if there’s any damage. He runs his fingers down Minho’s arm, breathing a sigh of relief as he realizes there’s absolutely nothing wrong. At least no broken bones, no cuts, nothing to get worked up over. Only then he realizes that Minho isn’t saying anything, but is just staring at his hands. “What… is going on?” he asks, slowly. “Kibum,” Minho says. He sounds somehow choked, like he’s seeing something he didn’t expect to. Only then it dawns on Kibum. The name. The soulmate mark. Quickly he tries to pull his hand back to cover it up again, even though he knows the damage is already done, but Minho gently grabs his hand to stop him. “Wait. Kibum, really. Don’t freak out about this.” “I’m not freaking out,” Kibum whispers. Suddenly he feels miserable, like everything is out of his control all at once. “I’m sorry I kept it a secret so long.” “I just don’t… I don’t understand,” Minho says, his gaze still locked on the black markings. “I don’t understand why you’d want to hide that? I always thought it was… I don’t know, maybe someone we knew, or someone you really didn’t want to be your soulmate. But this?” He looks up, smiling at Kibum. There might even be a glimmer of a tear in the corner of his eyes, as he seems really touched about this. “This is perfect, Kibum. We’re a match.” “No, it’s not perfect!” Kibum raises his voice, frustration clear in it. He thought so too before, being a matching pair was everything his dreams were made of, but after all of those disasters he’s lived through… It feels more like a burden than a gift. As gently as he can manage, Kibum tugs his hand free from Minho’s grip, backing away from him a few steps. Minho looks hurt, but Kibum ignores that. He needs to ignore it, or otherwise he won’t ever be able to say what he should. “Do you have any idea how many Minhos I’ve dated?” he asks, pleading. “Most of them even had my name right there on them! And it sucked, it never worked out, they always left me for someone better! And I’m so tired of that. I thought that if we weren’t soulmates we’d be…” Kibum hesitates. He feels cold, his hair is still wet and dripping on his shoulders, and suddenly he feels incredibly vulnerable standing there in only a towel. He hugs his arms around himself, pressing the goddamned black marks against his side to hide them. “I’m sorry, okay. I can’t do this.” With that, he turns and runs. -- When Jonghyun invites him to a party Kibum doesn’t even hesitate. He’s been single for a while and he finally feels ready to give relationships a new try, so maybe he’ll find someone nice in the big gathering. Jonghyun is famous for inviting everyone and their dog into his get-togethers, so chances for that are pretty damn good, too. “Hey Kibum, there’s someone I’d like you to meet!” Jonghyun says, nearly the first thing as soon as Kibum steps over the threshold into the apartment. He’s gesturing to a tall man, who has the build of an athlete and the most delicious brown eyes ever, and Kibum sort of wants to throw himself at him straight from second one. Only the next words coming from Jonghyun’s mouth feel like a cold shower to quench his enthusiasm. “This is Minho, Minho this is Kibum. I think you’ll hit it off!” Kibum is ready to retreat, but then he makes the mistake of looking straight at this Minho. This Minho has a smile that could melt even the most frozen heart. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that invites something in Kibum’s soul to dance. This Minho is different from the others before, Kibum thinks. Yet he’s not sure if he can trust that feeling. Kibum tries to resist. He really does. He never stands a chance. -- Kibum is sitting on the pavement right in front of their apartment complex, feeling even colder than before. He’s wearing only a thin shirt and jeans, and even though it’s technically still summer the evenings are incredibly cold. Yet he can’t bring himself to go back in, either. That would mean facing Minho, facing the fact that he’s kept secrets from him for years and now has to actually talk about it. Honestly? Kibum is so not ready for that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t take long before there are footsteps behind him, and suddenly a blanket lands on his shoulders. Grateful, Kibum hugs the warm cloth closer, wrapping himself up in it. It feels like a barrier between him and the world, as well as helping him regain the warmth he so desperately needs. Minho sits down right next to him, not even caring that the pavement is cold. They’re silent only for a moment, before Minho clears his throat. “I can’t promise you we’re soulmates, Kibum,” Minho says. Kibum risks a glance at him and he looks so earnest, so honest, that Kibum can’t even blink anymore, much less look away. “But I love you. I want to be with you. And if that’s not enough for you,” his smile turns sad, “you need to tell me now.” He turns his head a little, meeting Kibum’s gaze with his own. “It is enough,” Kibum chokes out. “It’s …more than enough.” There’s a tightness in his throat that feels a lot like impending tears but he tries to swallow it down as best as he can. Instead he leans closer, rests his head on Minho’s shoulder and marvels in the way he’s still allowed to do that. It feels nothing short of perfect. Minho smiles, visibly relieved. “Everything’s going to be fine.” He reaches out for Kibum’s hand, threads their fingers together and squeezes. It aligns their wrists, the mark on Kibum’s pressing against the one on Minho’s.

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so this is where I’ll sell my soul to Piu for helping me tons with this fic ♥ thank you again bb you’re a treasure ♥

asndjkfghn this thing has plagued me for a while, I’m so glad it’s finally finished and out of my system. I hope you enjoyed it! ;;