Hitting the Mark

by Aidan Wayne

  That was certainly true. Taemin nodded. “All to get better, though. I’m really looking forward to seeing how I do.”

  “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  ON MONDAY Marcus’s movie went into full-on production mode, and his days were suddenly a lot busier, full of training, shooting, and more training. With Taemin’s schedule too, they pretty much had no time to see each other except late at night, when they both were exhausted. They kept up a constant stream of texting throughout the day, though, which helped with the distance, and Taemin made a point each day to let Marcus know when he was about ready for bed so they could at least have a phone conversation to exchange good-nights.

  The following Thursday, though, Marcus had ensured he didn’t have to be on set until ten, which was also when Taemin went to volunteer. That meant that they had time to at least grab breakfast together. Playfully, Marcus had also offered that they go for a few minutes on the mat first. For a good luck send-off, even though he was going to be going over to Taemin’s place that evening for a more personal goodbye.

  Taemin had been delighted by the idea at the time. He still was, when he dragged himself out of bed Thursday morning, just also a little tired. He and Marcus had agreed on eight, to maximize their time both on the mat and then at breakfast. So another early morning, on top of the late night. Not that he wasn’t used to those by now, after a steady stream of them for almost a month.

  Since he was going to breakfast right after he and Marcus had their mat time, he didn’t bother to eat anything before he headed over to Choi’s, just made sure he had a bottle of his tea drink.

  Marcus showed up a few minutes after Taemin turned on the lights. “Good timing,” Taemin said as Marcus stepped out of his shoes, bowed onto the mat, and then came over to kiss Taemin good morning.

  Marcus quirked his lips. “Rule of the set. Fifteen minutes early is on time. Get there on time and you’re late.”

  “That’s a good rule.”

  “Yeah, I think so too. So? You ready to wipe the floor with me?”

  Taemin rolled his eyes. “We’ll go a few rounds and have some fun.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They geared up and started their own warm-ups and stretches. Taemin went over to one of the bags to get an extended leg stretch. He breathed into it and then dropped his leg carefully. Wobbled a little before he went to stretch the other one. He still felt sort of tired.

  Nothing he couldn’t handle, though.

  “I’m about ready,” Marcus said several minutes later.

  “Great.” Taemin smiled, turning to him. “Let’s get started!”

  They met in the middle of the mat, bowed to each other, and started bounding, circling each other to gauge.

  Taemin moved first, striking out with a quick roundhouse that wasn’t even for points—just to get the match moving. Marcus blocked, and that was all they needed to really begin the fight.

  Taemin had to blink spots out of his eyes after his first spin-kick, refinding his equilibrium in a way he usually didn’t have to. It was just in time that he brought up a hand to block Marcus’s next movement: a brutally powerful sidekick. He staggered with the force of it, and—that wasn’t right. He’d taken way harder hits without feeling them like this.

  He was just tired. And, okay, maybe he should have eaten something before stepping into the ring so early after too little sleep, but—

  He whipped around to score on Marcus’s head with a jump-spinning hook kick, the fast movement dizzying in a way it never was—

  His legs collapsed underneath him, and he barely caught himself on his hands and knees.

  “Taemin!”

  “I’m fine, I—” He tried to stand and fell right back down onto the floor, the headrush overpowering. “I—” He put one hand to his temple and just tried to breathe, the spots blinking back into his vision.

  He felt more than saw Marcus crouching down next to him and place a supporting arm on his back, guiding him to sit more fully. “Let me get you some water,” Marcus said quickly, standing and nearly running to the side of the mat, where they’d left their water bottles. He was back moments later, shoving the bottle into Taemin’s hands. “Drink, okay?”

  Taemin nodded, then immediately stilled, trying to calm the sudden headache. He unscrewed the bottle’s cap and drank in long pulls, gasping when he was finished. “Sorry about that,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m good to go now.”

  Marcus frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Taemin moved to stand, bracing his hands on his knees for a moment before standing fully. “Sparring. Let’s go again.” He smiled ruefully. “I think you won the last round.”

  “Wha—no.” Marcus looked a mixture of baffled and concerned. “Of course not. We’re done for the day. You need to rest.”

  Taemin huffed. “I’m perfectly all right.” He’d had a few of those dizzy spells lately. They passed quickly enough. “If I can’t push through, how do you think I’ll do for the actual trials?”

  Marcus looked at him, wide-eyed. “Taemin, you—you can’t compete like this.”

  Taemin frowned, starting to feel irritable. That wasn’t a light accusation. “Stop making this out to be such a big deal. I’m fine.”

  “You just collapsed,” Marcus said. He sounded like he was struggling to keep his voice even. “You’re not taking care of yourself. That’s no way to go into a major competition.”

  “I have been doing this for longer than you have been alive,” Taemin said, scowling. “As I have said on multiple occasions, I know how to handle myself.”

  “Do you? Have you gone this hard for this long before?”

  “Marcus—”

  “You’re going to seriously get hurt if you step into a ring like this. You’ve pushed yourself too much.”

  “I’ll thank you not to count on me failing,” Taemin said hotly. “I don’t leave until tomorrow, and the matches aren’t until the day after. That’s plenty of time to rest and recover.”

  “That’s barely two days. You were the one who taught me to give it at least three days’ rest before a major competition!”

  “That is enough,” Taemin said through gritted teeth. “I am sick of being told what I can and can’t do. I am not a child. I have been training for these trials for months. Yes? I have been training for months. I know what I’m doing.”

  Marcus stepped forward. “Taemin, come on. You’ve got to see what you’re doing to yourself. If you’d just listen to me—”

  Taemin didn’t want to listen. His head hurt, he felt shaky, and he was already embarrassed for showing that sort of weakness in the first place. And Marcus was going on about how he wasn’t fit to do something he’d been training all his life for? He didn’t know what he was talking about. Taemin’s father would have already started the next round. “You’ve barely been back in my life a month. You have no right to talk.”

  Marcus looked stricken. “Taemin, please—”

  Marcus had no right to look like that. Not when he was telling Taemin that he wasn’t good enough. “You can see yourself out,” Taemin said, turning and walking quickly into his office. He wanted distance and to breathe and to sit down, and his head was pounding.

  Minutes later, he distantly heard the jingle of the front door open and close.

  Taemin braced himself against his desk, furious. At himself, at Marcus, at how awful he felt.

  His plane left in twenty-four hours and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed.

  MARCUS LEFT the dojang feeling like his head was stuffed full of cotton wool. He was equal parts upset and terrified. Upset because a fight with Taemin had been the last thing he’d wanted, especially before something so big, and Marcus was only concerned for him. For how hard he was pushing himself, for how clearly that was taking a toll on his body.

  And terrified, because if Taemin stepped into a ring the way he was now, he could get seriously hurt. A dizzy spel
l or faltered step at the wrong moment, at the speed and intensity competitive athletes moved—god, the possibility of injury was high even when you were on your game.

  And the worst part was that he couldn’t do anything. He’d tried to say his piece and Taemin had gotten upset, and… and Marcus couldn’t blame him for that. If someone had told him that he was unfit for a part he’d been prepping for for ages….

  He sat in his car, head in his hands. “Fuck,” he groaned. Now what?

  He could go back inside, apologize, but even if Taemin was willing to listen to it—and Marcus doubted that; he’d made him upset—that wouldn’t change anything. He still thought Taemin shouldn’t fly out tomorrow morning.

  They were going to have a nice night together. Say goodbye and celebrate Taemin’s chances.

  His phone beeped. Billy. I’m really sorry. London wanted to switch a shot sequence around. Can you get over here and to makeup? Reply needed asap.

  I’ll be right there, Marcus typed, feeling lost. He had work to do at least. Concentrate on that for now. Give Taemin time to cool down. Marcus would apologize to him in person when he got off work. And they could figure the rest out then.

  Because he’d been planning to eat with Taemin—and that obviously hadn’t happened, he thought bitterly—he stopped to grab something from a Dunkin’ Donuts to eat on the way over. Billy met him onsite, whisking him away to makeup.

  “I’m really sorry,” Billy said after a few moments of silence. “You know the last thing I wanted to do was interrupt.”

  “There was nothing to interrupt,” Marcus said, feeling tired. “I was about leaving when you texted me anyway.”

  Billy frowned. “What? Why? I thought you were going to have a morning together?”

  “So did I.”

  “Okay? So? What the hell.”

  “Remember how we talked about him not, uh, being the best at taking care of himself?”

  “Sure?”

  “He collapsed during our sparring sessions this morning.”

  “Oh my god, is he okay?”

  “He’d like to think he is,” Marcus said bitterly.

  “O… kay. So what does that mean?”

  Marcus told Billy about what happened. What he said, and Taemin’s response. “—and now I don’t know what to do. I can’t say anything, because it’ll just upset him, but I can’t keep quiet either. He’s really hurting himself. And the idea of him stepping onto a mat—”

  “No, yeah, fuck. I get it.”

  “Yeah,” Marcus said miserably.

  “You said that he brought up how long you’ve been together,” Billy said hesitantly. “Is there someone who’s maybe known him for longer? That he might listen to?”

  Marcus immediately thought of Preeti and Mr. Avi. But Preeti might be too young to make Taemin really pay attention. He’d brushed her off before, and Marcus could easily see him doing so again. So Mr. Avi, maybe? At least he could try.

  He didn’t have Mr. Avi’s number to ask, but he figured Preeti did. Once he’d been given the go-ahead from makeup, he sent her a quick text while he and Billy headed over to set.

  When he had a moment to check his phone, he’d gotten a response. Sure, I can give it to you. But why?

  I need someone who might be able to talk sense into Taemin.

  Oh no, that doesn’t sound good. What happened?

  Remember when you told me the story about him fainting after nationals?

  Yeah…?

  That.

  WHAT. When??

  This morning, Marcus replied. We were having a friendly match and he collapsed. Tried to tell me everything was fine and that we should pick right back up where we left off.

  Asdfghjkl Master Choi NO. Yeah, okay, I’ll text Mr. Avi. I can give you his number too.

  Thank you.

  Of course. Are you coming by Choi’s tonight?

  Absolutely. I want to talk to him in person again before he leaves.

  I can imagine. Okay, see you then. And I’ll update you if I learn anything before then.

  Thanks, Marcus sent back with feeling.

  TAEMIN’S DARK mood colored his whole morning, even though he tried his best not to let it. Especially during his volunteer time. When he was done with the hospital, though, he went straight home. Rattled around in his apartment, unable to keep from feeling annoyed, and then just gave up and crawled under his covers; his headache still hadn’t abated.

  He pulled himself up a couple hours later, feeling groggy and not at all well rested. Washing his face helped some. He also went to his kitchen to get something to eat. He hadn’t felt like it after Marcus had left—and then had gone to the hospital and….

  And now it was almost three o’clock.

  Was this really the first time he’d eaten today?

  The thought struck him hard. That after having that fun little episode on the mat where his body had obviously needed fuel, he just… hadn’t.

  It had been a common pattern these last few months, since he’d added in his extra training. Forgetting to eat, not having enough time to sleep, working so hard because he only had so much time in a day, and then, of course, making time for Marcus….

  It was little food, littler sleep, and a lot of stress he was putting on his body aside from that.

  Marcus had only been concerned. And—and obviously worried.

  And Taemin had yelled at him.

  He had to apologize. He went to grab his phone, then paused. Marcus was at work. Taemin wasn’t going to disturb him with a phone call, and it didn’t feel right to just text him. But what else could he do?

  As he unlocked his phone, he was startled to find text messages from both Mr. Avi and Preeti.

  He opened Mr. Avi’s first. Don’t come to class today. You need to rest up for your flight tomorrow, and the competition. Preeti and I can hold down the fort.

  And Preeti’s, MASTER CHOI IF YOU DON’T EAT LUNCH AND TAKE A NAP I WILL FLY TO KOREA TO TELL GRANDMASTER CHOI ON YOU

  Taemin couldn’t help but laugh softly. They cared about him. That’s all it was. Good intentions and… not unnecessary ones, considering what he’d been doing to himself without even thinking about it.

  He opened a group chat and wrote a message to both of them. I plan to come to class today, if only to say goodbye to everyone before I fly out tomorrow. But I’ll take it easy, I promise. I trust you both to lead classes. I have plenty to do in my office anyway.

  He sent off the message and then got started on his meal. His phone buzzed a few minutes later. Preeti had sent him several exclamation marks and thumbs-up emojis. Mr. Avi had written, Fine, but you better actually take it easy, or I’m making you go home.

  Mutiny, he sent back, before concentrating on his food.

  When he finished, he washed his dishes and eventually moved to his couch, giving himself more time to work through his thoughts.

  He did want to apologize to Marcus. Taemin had been frustrated with himself, at his body betraying him, and he’d taken it out on Marcus, who hadn’t deserved it.

  But Taemin’s knee-jerk reaction to apologize aside, Marcus hadn’t been entirely in the right either. Especially with telling Taemin that he wasn’t competition-ready. All right, so Taemin knew he was a little fatigued and could stand a real few good nights of sleep, as well as some more regularly scheduled meals. But telling him he shouldn’t go compete?

  At least Preeti and Mr. Avi understood. They were also pushing for him to rest—but with the intention of sending him to the trials in top form. They knew how important this was to him. How much he wanted to make a good showing, especially since he probably wouldn’t be doing this again. At least not something of this caliber. The academy and his other activities simply took too much of his time for him to fly all over the country to compete. Of course, it was true that competing in the Olympics would be a great way to showcase his own skills in taekwondo—and help to uphold the Choi name. And he would be the first to admit how badly he wanted to compe
te for his own personal satisfaction too.

  But he was also tired.

  He and Marcus had been very wrapped up in each other these last few weeks. Talking was easy; the company was comforting; the intimacy was wonderful. However it had also been a lot very quickly. And Taemin had something else he needed to focus on right now.

  Decision made, he unlocked his phone to send Marcus a text.

  MARCUS HAD two text messages waiting for him when he got a break in filming to check his phone. One was from Preeti: a screenshotted image of a message Taemin had sent to her about promising to take it easy that evening.

  And another from Taemin. I’m sorry, it said. I understand why you said what you did. I apologize for my own behavior. But I also think this might be a good time to take a step back, for a little while. I need to keep my head in the game right now. Maybe we can talk more when I get back?

  Marcus stared at the message. The “so I don’t want to see you” wasn’t written out, but it glared a bright red all the same.

  He swallowed. What else could he say? Of course. I understand. I’m sorry too. Good luck out there. I’ll be rooting for you.

  He received a thank you a few minutes later. And nothing else.

  “You look like someone shot your dog, man,” Leo said, clapping him on the shoulder. “The scene’s not going that bad, is it?”

  Marcus shook his head. “Scene’s going fine,” he said, trying to sound light. “It’s a good energy out there.”

  “Okay,” Leo said slowly. “And something’s really wrong, huh? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Really.” He glanced down at his phone. “Just, uh, just taking a step back, it looks like.”

  Leo frowned in confusion. “Looks like?”

  Marcus sighed. “Taemin and I sort of had a fight this morning. He just apologized to me about it. But, uh, also said that maybe we should wait to see each other again until he gets back from the trials.”

  “The Olympic trials, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And he… doesn’t want to see you before he leaves?”