astray / əˈstreɪ

He hesitantly let go of Jongin's hand. "I think you've got the hang of it. Should I cut the vegetables? Unless you'd rather do that....ah but could you maybe make sure they're all the same length? Actually maybe I should do that, you could keep whisking? Or you could sit down and relax, I can finish? Maybe that's too forward, it's your kitchen after all isn't it?" Thought after thought entered Kyungsoo's head, demanding to be taken care of, causing him to ramble just like he always did. "Sorry, you need time to answer right? Maybe I should pause after each question. Well unless it's rhetorical because those questions don't need an answer. Oh and for yes or no questions you could nod or shake your head."

He had to bite back a chuckle upon hearing Kyungsoo speaking; he was so careful not to offend Jongin and the latter found it rather comforting. Lately, after everyone had already forgot who Kim Jongin was, a lot of people would complain about him writing instead of speaking - well, that was before they would find out he was mute, but after that, they would still hurt him with their words without having an intention to.

He watched with wide eyes as the tanned boy took his hand. The difference between their skin tones wasn't as prominent as he'd first thought. It reminded Kyungsoo of Crème brûlée, his own skin was the colour of the flan, Jongin's the colour of caramel. He'd never tried Crème brûlée, the consistency and texture looked rather disgusting as far as he was concerned, but he found himself wanting to eat it with the older male - he made a mental note to bring the topic up later.

Shit shit shit. Kyungsoo chewed on his lower lip, gaze still locked on the two hands now holding the whisk. My hands are sweaty. Can he tell? They're shaking too. This is terrible. What do I do now? "A-alright." He made an attempt at clearing his throat, trying to seem calm and collected, although in doing so he caused himself to have a mild coughing fit, using his freehand to cover his mouth. "Sorry."

He glanced from the bowl to Jongin’s chin, swapping weight from foot to foot. “You’re not whisking fast enough.” Without further hesitation he reached out, index finger extended in order to give Jongin’s wrist a poke. “It’s all in the wrist. All in the wrist. Like this.” Concentration set across his features as he mimed a whisking action, eyes flickering upwards to check whether or not Jongin was watching. “Keep the rest of your arm still and only move your wrist.” The tone of his voice changed slightly as he involuntarily copied the cooking show host’s shrill voice. He gave a breathy guffaw before his cheeks turned red at the sound and his gaze lowered.

Middle school was perhaps Jongin’s favorite time. If the accident hadn’t happened, his favorite years might have been his college or maybe high school years. Middle school was the year of his fame, however. He was the most popular kid at school, had the most ‘cool’ friends, all the girls wanted him (he definitely wouldn’t enjoy reminiscing about that one time when one girl cornered and tried to kiss him in the boy’s bathroom; how the hell did she even get in there unnoticed?). not to mention he had the best grades in spite of going to 4 hour long dance practices right after school ended.

His life was truly amazing back then, but reality sucks and now he was left to deal with the consequences of his fame.

Jongin snapped out of his thoughts and blinked a few times before turning his attention back to his guest. He thought for a short moment, realizing he hadn’t eaten that in ages, and when he actually did, he wasn’t the one who made it. He nodded, however, at the boy’s question and wrote down a few quick, messy words. “I’m not fully sure how to make them, help me?”

In the kitchen, Kyungsoo found he wasn't quite himself. The last time he and Yongsook, his doctor, had cooked a meal together, it had all ended in an argument. The doe-eyed boy could be surprisingly stubborn with a bread knife in his hand. Everything had to go his way, everything needed to be perfect. Vegetables had to be the same length, the same width, the same depth. Timing had to be perfect, precise. He sucked his bottom lip and averted his eyes, fixing his gaze on the wall to his left. 

"I'm....I don't cook. Not very often at least. It's not that I can't it's just that I....don't really like to cook you know? Uh perhaps we should order food? I deliver for a place not far from the hospital, I could go pick something up and be back in half a hour? They don't have Kimchi Buchimgae but they have pizza? Do you like pizza? I don't actually like pizza but they have other things too." 

"I’m closing the deal." Eric sighed and looked down to meet eye contact with Bella, she tilted her head curiously and got a shrug in return. "I’m telling you, unless you can get your hands on the 1971 case then you’ve lost your purpose. If he gets to that before you do, he’ll make the news in a week. Guaranteed." He smirked and felt Bella’s nose tap his thigh, he waved her off and earned himself a growl. "I’m hanging up, get the job done or we’re done here. I hired you for a reason and you can’t even do that, it’s a yes or a no."

Eric tapped the red pixels on the screen and slid his phone into his back pocket, “Don’t look at me like that. This was his second chance and he’s screwed up again.” With a quick glance down at Bella, the man had finally considered himself too lonely. Perhaps unbelievably so, he was talking to his dog more than he spoke to his colleagues after being released from jail. Was this what it was about? A second chance was given to Eric, was he biting his own tail?

God, now he was thinking of himself as an animal just let out from a cage.

Bella’s bark came from somewhere else other than his side, she barked once, there was someone at the gate. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and tried to get the sawdust from taking away his actual appearance.

"Who is it?" He came round his front gate and looked over to where Bella sat obediently next to another younger man, who seemed to be much more involved with Eric’s dog than with his delivery. He smiled and took out his wallet before walking over to the other and handing him the relative amount of money. "This is weird, usually she’d bark three times for strangers. But she barked once, you must be well acquainted with her." He reached down and took his pizza, digging out a slice and looking at the other with slight curiosity.

Sometimes avoiding them was easier said than done, which was exactly why he found himself gingerly petting the head of a rather large dog, a pizza balanced on his free hand. Kyungsoo didn't know her name, so he'd taken it upon himself to give her one; Alamo, from the name of his favourite dinosaur, the Alamosaurus. He certainly wasn't known for his creativity. 

A small smile grew on his lips as the dog stared up at him, just like she had so many times before. "I wish you wouldn't look at me like that, I don't have any dog treats this time. They made my hands smell like bacon for days." The dog simply cocked her head to one side. Kyungsoo giggled quietly, wondering if she knew what on earth he was talking about. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head to the side just a tiny bit as he listened to the other, wondering how he was able to think of such spontaneous things to say. His eyebrows lifted slowly and he found himself chuckling once more at the boy’s antics. He would get used to this eventually, although whatever left Kyungsoo’s mouth, Jongin found interesting, so that wasn’t necessarily going to be a problem.

Once the elevator came to a stop and the door opened, Jongin walked out of it and motioned Kyungsoo to follow him, not knowing whether the latter would take Jongin’s hand if he offered. Why was he so keen on hold Kyungsoo’s hand anyways? Maybe it was to make sure the boy was safe and alright. Yes, that must have been the case. Or maybe it was something else, but Jongin didn’t feel like trying to sort his thoughts and feelings out, especially not when he had to think of what to cook for them both. For one, Jongin didn’t know what Kyungsoo liked eating and there was also the possibility of not having the right ingredients.

He pushed those thoughts aside when he reached the end of the hallway and took out his keys, unlocking the door quickly and letting Kyungsoo in first, closing the door behind once they were both inside. He took off his shoes and dropped his bag to the floor, waiting for Kyungsoo, before leading him into the tiny, yet cozy kitchen. He leaned on the island and took one of his notebooks - they were littered all over the apartment, writing down a few lines on it.

When the doors opened he exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. As signalled, Kyungsoo fell in behind Jongin and followed him closely to the end of the corridor. There was no trace of stale cigarette smoke in the hallway, or even the unpleasant stench of ammonia, courtesy of shameless drunkards too intoxicated to find a public bathroom. It made a nice change, he thought to himself, dark eyes glancing from the other doors to the back of Jongin's head.

My friend's house. Kyungsoo felt a strange giddiness inside. He imagined himself getting an order for take-out food to a nearby address, a rare sense of pride washing over him as he imagined his answer. Yeah I know that building, my friend lives there. Have I been inside? Of course, with my friend. 

A grin pulled at his lips until white pearly teeth could be seen. It felt good to have a friend - but perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. He didn't even know Jongin's last name, or his age, nor did he know his favourite food or his movie preference - Kyungsoo liked Documentary movies more than anything. Those things were apparently required before he could openly call Jongin his 'friend', not that it stopped him from thinking it of course. 

Kyungsoo slipped off his shoes, neatly placing them beside Jongin's, before following him into the kitchen. For a moment he stood awkwardly in the doorway, torn between peering around, and quietly staring at his blue socks. He settled for gazing at the other instead, although he made sure their eyes never met.

He successfully managed to put his arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulders and smiled to himself. Kyungsoo was small, soft and squishy. He was nice to hold, Jongin thought, which drew another tiny chuckle from his throat. He had to cover his mouth to hide his silly grin and calm down. Turns out, a potential friend was all that was needed to bring back the smile to his face. His sister would be proud.

Speaking of which, he figured he should text her and tell her not to come home, which he did. He took out his phone and quickly typed up a message, something along the lines of “I don’t want you scaring my friends off, so find a place to stay tonight.” It would surely cause suspicions, but knowing his sister, Jongin was positive she wouldn’t set a foot inside their apartment this evening.

His full attention remained on Kyungsoo the whole time, even when he was typing on the phone, and he turned his head to Kyungsoo, showing him he’s listening while his fingers nudged the phone back into the pocket of his jeans. Chuckling, he shook his head at the boy’s little comment about his cat. The smaller’s way of talking was squeal-worthy. Everything Kyungsoo said, he seemed so interested in it, it was exactly what Jongin used to sound like when talking about dancing.

With a small frown he pushed thoughts of her away, opting instead to concentrate solely on Jongin 

The building's exterior was certainly a lot nicer than the ones lining the street Kyungsoo resided on. His gaze was pulled in each and every direction as they entered, his mind not knowing what to concentrate on, with so many new things around. A little clumsily he followed Jongin into the elevator, standing off to the corner, hands clasped in front of himself, his stance nothing short of awkward. 

He could feel Jongin looking at him. The longer the other stared, the edgier Kyungsoo became - not that it really showed in any other way than red cheeks and sweaty palms. Why is he looking at me? Why? There's something on my face isn't there. Oh God Kyungsoo why didn't you check before leaving the hospital? This is how I'm going to die, overheat and then hyperventilate until I pass out in an elevator in front of a new friend -- good job Kyungsoo. He raised his arm and rubbed at his cheek, trying to make his actions seem unimportant and mindless, he had no idea whether it worked or not. 

When Kyungsoo began speaking, however, Jongin’s eyebrows furrowed. The other was still tagging along behind the taller, yet he was talking to him. The tan boy listened to the words being uttered and nodded, more to himself than the male behind him. In a way, Kyungsoo was like the whale he was talking about. It seemed like not many could understand Kyungsoo, if any did in the first place. It was sad really. Jongin felt a slight wave of sympathy wash over him and he slowed down, turning his head to look at the smaller boy.

Jongin often times felt lonely, but, in a way, he was lonely on purpose. He didn’t want to get close to people so that they wouldn’t ask what happened to him, so that they wouldn’t recognize him as the great dancer he once used to be. He didn’t want to be one of those stars that died halfway on their road to fame, he didn’t want to remember his parents or what he could have been if he hadn’t decided to ask his parents to take him home from a party instead of driving home with a few people he disliked. He didn’t want to get close to people while Kyungsoo simply couldn’t.

He watched the back of Jongin's shoes with a faded look of concentration, trying to keep the same distance between them with each step he took, the last thing he wanted was to accidentally step on the dancer's shoe, who knew what chaos would ensue if he did - they might trip and fall, possibly break a bone or acquire some nasty bruises, maybe even a--

Why is he holding my hand. Kyungsoo looked down at the slightly larger hand gently pulling at his own. Even Jongin's fingers looked graceful and Kyungsoo couldn't for the life of him understand how that was even possible. They looked like they could dance over the keys on a piano, making the most beautiful of melodies. Once again he found himself in awe, wishing so desperately to be like the taller male. His imagination ran wildly, seeing Jongin in a suit playing various instruments on a large stage - a one man orchestra, dancer Jongin joining his musical self - spinning, twisting, jumping - model Jongin on the cover of a program booklet advertising for the show, his picture on every page. 

His imagination often exaggerated things though, but it was enough to distract him as he was pulled forward to walk next to the taller male, small enough for the other to rest his arm across his shoulders comfortably. Walking next to him was strange, it was weird, but it was a nice weird and Kyungsoo decided to add it to his list when he got home. Bad weird vs. nice weird. The list made it pretty clear to anyone who read it that Kyungsoo found that most things fit in the negative column.

It was needless to say fulfilling to give a chance to someone different. He was 90% sure that most people wouldn’t bother trying to communicate with him, let alone make friends with him.People would get freaked out by anything that was considered not normal. Whether it was a mental disorder or a physical one. Although they were excellent at faking their actions and reactions, Jongin could sense how uncomfortable they were around certain people, it was like as if those people weren’t humans.

Once more, he returned to writing out yet another reply, smiling small to himself. His eyes glanced from time to time, not being able to resist seeing the other’s small actions and reactions. Jongin wrote quickly, not really caring about the neatness - although it wasn’t very neat to begin with - of his writing; He only needed the other to be able to read the few short sentences before they took off. “It’s settled then. I won’t be able to talk while we walk, but you’re welcome to talk about yourself or anything that comes to your mind.” 

"I don't mind, silence can be endearing too you know? I talk too much sometimes, I know it can be a little weird, so I'm apologizing in advance for anything unusual I might say." Kyungsoo offered Jongin a lopsided, unsure smile before falling behind him and following. It was always better to give a warning, the way Kyungsoo rambled now and then had cost him quite a few acquaintances. 

Jongin's offer however was rather rare. It gave the wide-eyed boy a mild sense of serenity - something he didn't have very often. For another person to want to hear what he had to say was surprising, more often than not Kyungsoo would fall into the 'great listener' category of people. Sometimes he daren't open his mouth, out of fear of saying something completely insane or offensive, without even realising it. Such was the hardship of Asperger's. Kyungsoo sighed quietly.

He stared at the back of Jongin's shoes as they walked, suddenly feeling not quite adequate enough to be seen walking next to the bronzed dancer. Had his first glimpse of the older been anywhere other than the hospital, he would've teased the idea of Jongin being some kind of model, maybe even actor. The guy certainly had the looks for it. 

Once the boy finished reading, he flipped over to a new page and took out a pencil, listening to him while writing down a reply to his words at the same time. There was a tiny smile on his lips as he listened and he couldn’t help but let out a small and quiet laugh when the other started rambling and contradicting himself. 

Kyungsoo… So this is the name of the beautiful boy that stood in front of him. Jongin let the name linger in his mind, playing over and over in his head.

"I don't think you're a kidnapper or anything, or a--" He lowered his voice and glanced around before continuing "--murderer. That means I trust you."

A smile almost graced his lips as he remembered something his father used to say; "Don't worry Kyungsoo, if somebody kidnapped you, they'd bring you straight back as soon as you opened your mouth." Kyungsoo was almost completely sure that would be the case, should any unsuspecting kidnapper wish to steal him away. He was also almost completely sure Jongin wasn't the type to kidnap people, he'd never been very good at reading others, but the way the taller male smiled told him he wouldn't hurt a fly. 

His thoughts then jumped to his wallet, empty save for the few thousand Won he'd need to tide him over until next week. Work was scarce sometimes, but at least he'd paid his rent on time, and he could always pay his elderly neighbour a visit, she seemed to take great pleasure in feeding him - although in her old age her taste buds obviously weren't what they used to be, every dish was full of pepper. He supposed, eating at Jongin's house would not only benefit his wallet, but perhaps be a crucial opportunity for bonding. 

"You can cook? Can you cook well? I honestly do trust you, I think. It's probably a little weird isn't it, trusting somebody I've just met, but you seem nice enough and the Doctor seems to like you too, and the children, so you must be pretty trustworthy right? It makes sense, I think." Kyungsoo nodded, more to himself than to the other man. 

Flashing him a smile and shaking his head as if to tell him not to worry about it, he took off his backpack and rummaged it for a short second, searching for his notebook. He pulled it out and made sure that the page it was turned to said exactly what he wanted; A few hours ago, when he was waiting for the boy, he wrote a few sentences down, hoping he could talk to him before he fled again.

Dinner? He blinked once, then again, the movements unintentionally exaggerated as his mind worked. What if they went somewhere he'd never been before? How would he know what to do, or what to say? What if Jongin found his eating habits strange? Shit shit shit-- What do I do? He glanced back up, the remnants of a kind smile on the other's face putting him at ease. 

"I'm not-- I wasn't....scared." Kyungsoo relaxed a little, the tension easing in his shoulders, albeit barely noticeable to anybody but himself. A thousand questions whirled in his head --

What happened to him? Why can't he speak? Was it an accident? Was he born mute? Shock perhaps? Why on earth does he want to get to know me? Boredom maybe? Did the Doctor put him up to this? Can I even afford to be so damn wary? I say I want friends and when a chance presents itself I try to find any possible excuse to run away--

-- thoughts with trains of sub-thoughts overwhelmed him for a few moments, until he shook his head and furrowed his brow slightly. 

"I'm hungry, a little. Are you? I always feel uncomfortable so I wouldn't notice even if you did make me feel like that-- not that I expect you would, you're not unpleasant or anything in fact I think you're quite pleasant already, unless that was a little too forward then I take it back, but if I did take it back it wouldn't change my first impression of you, although I bet this isn't doing much for your opinion of me is it? It's okay you don't have to answer..." He took a deep breath and nervously pushed hair away from his eyes, gaze locked on the floor.

As he packed his things later that day, his eyes wandered over to the door once more, lingering there in hopes to see the boy again. Minutes passed, but nothing happened. Why was he keen on seeing him again anyways? What was it that he needed so badly from the stranger. If he knew the male’s name, what would that change? It wasn’t like he could make any friends anyways. He couldn’t even keep in touch with the friends he made before the accident, how is this going to be any easier, any different? Jongin didn’t know why he wanted to find out more about the doe-eyed boy or what use would it have, but he knew he wouldn’t rest until he got his wish. 

The thoughts in his head resembled a disorderly mind-map, the main topic being the dancer from earlier that day. His Doctor, Yongsook, had tried to persuade the boy to go talk to the stranger, but Kyungsoo could be as stubborn as the will of Kings. He did not, however, lack curiosity. Hell he'd spent most of his time in the hospital wondering how old the stranger was, how long he'd been a dancer, what his name was, wondering if perhaps he could teach Kyungsoo a thing or two - although that particular thought had been eschewed with a firm hand, he wasn't known for his gracefulness, he had 'two left feet' as his mother had always said. 

Kyungsoo exhaled and shot a glance towards the main entrance, dark eyes following an elderly woman, frail arms clinging to an Orderly for support, as the automatic doors did their job. His stomach rumbled quietly and he dropped his gaze, regretting his decision never to eat an orange ever again - the small citrus fruits would never be quite the same after today's events. 

For a moment, the mind map centered on the graceful stranger with the bronze tainted skin disappeared, to make way for an even messier cluster of thoughts about food. Lemons perhaps- no far too sour. Limes maybe- he had never tried a lime before, so that was out of the question too. Sudden contact made him freeze on the spot, eyes wide and body rigid. With his heart beat echoing in his head he tore his arm away before turning around, locking gazes with the culprit.

"You." He blinked, suddenly feeling very aware of himself, wanting only to run away and hide again - everything he did around this guy seemed so damn embarrassing. 

He bowed his head at the compliment; although it wasn’t something clever or unique, it seemed to have come from the male’s heart and made heat slowly spread onto the dancer’s cheeks - something that would always happened whenever he was complimented. Although the light pink hue was left unseen on his tan cheeks, he lifted a hand up to scratch the warm piece of skin while his other arm rested comfortably over the width of his torso, a sheepish smile being prevented by teeth digging into his plump bottom lip.

The hand that was idly rubbing at his cheek immediately extended towards the boy as if to prevent him from hurting himself once the latter’s head almost collided with the taller’s shoulder. He let out a soft sound when the other simply turned around and simply left. Jongin wanted to tell him to stay, that it was okay, but held himself back, watching the small figure disappear from the room.

"I gave him an orange." A mixture of shock and disbelief tumbled through plump lips. He lowered his hand, thumb throbbing from the way he'd nibbled at a piece of loose skin, having torn it away in his haste to flee. "A peeled orange." He took a deep breath, confusion clear on his face.

The Doctor cleared his throat, using one hand to straighten his tie and the other to adjust his glasses, knocked askew by Kyungsoo's abrupt entrance. "You did, yes. I saw." Remnants of a smirk were left on the Doctor's face, obviously pleased with himself. The older male had always pushed his patient to make friends, to be the one to initiate a friendship. The occurrence he had just witnessed had been unusual, yes, things usually were whenever Kyungsoo was concerned, but it was the closest the doe-eyed boy had ever gotten to going out on a limb.

"Any particular reason?" The Doctor returned to his desk, picking up his pen to continue taking notes. "Why did you feel the need to give him something, Kyungsoo?"

The boy looked through the glass window, out of sight of the patients and doctors outside the office, but in the perfect spot to stare at the dancer. "How should I know?" He almost scoffed, "Why did Princesses offer handkerchiefs to Knights in shining armour as a token of their gratitude?" He mumbled, momentarily derailing his train of thought to think back to the time he'd watched the Shrek movie, alone and rather confused - how could a Princess fall in love with an Ogre anyway?

"Perhaps you felt grateful towards him?"