Oh SHINee...

Oh SHINee... <3

SHINee’s fansign in Sinchon 150808 © dear_my_freak - do not delete credits F: (nervous) I had a lot to say but don’t remember anything T: I’ll sign slowly so try to remember (signed really slowly) (trans: juju_home)

MY THOUGHTS ON MINHO AND THE BATHROOM SCENE

First you see the girl has taken Minho to the Bathroom, she is kneeled down in front of him, looking at him to see if he is okay. Did she take him in there to take advantage of him, or administer first aide?  That’s a pretty grungy bathroom they are in, not much clean in there to use for first aide.

But if she is going to take advantage of him in the state he is in, why does she get up and go to the sink? Why not just take your top off right there in front of him?

Now she kneels back down in front of him again and puts her hand behind his head…BUT LOOK~ HER TOP IS IN HER HAND. SHE TOOK IT OFF AT THE SINK TO GET IT WET TO USE FOR FIRST AIDE TO MINHO’S WOUND HE GOT FROM THE BOTTLE

She touches her forehead to his in kind of a silent “thank you for defending me”, and he grimaces in pain as she applies pressure to his wound.

Now, that’s how I see it.

Bias scenario inspiration:

Being the offspring of a diagnosed narcissistic parent had taught you to deny yourself, prioritizing others.  Blind devotion for your other parent who had attachment issues stunted developing trust or authenticity with anyone else.  What few close experiences you had with men had taught you that you were only worth as much as their carnal interest or how easy you were to be around. How little “work”.  Inconvenient since you’d been chronically ill since the age of 11.

Now in your 20’s, you had long determined never to need anything, and certainly to never ask. Over the years you’d become a master of covering up symptoms, physical and emotional.  Your unfortunate ability to internalize just about anything had often resulted in being deemed “dramatic” because of your untroubled expression.  No one believed you anymore. Even if you told the truth.  Even your honesty sounded like lies, colored by your expectation that they wouldn’t believe you anyway.  After faking for so many years, even you weren’t sure when you were telling the truth.

In any case, you were just fine without anyone.  You were resigned to your low-maintenance identity.  Words echoed out of your childhood, “You shouldn’t need or trust people.  In the end you stand alone before God.”  

So you were just fine.

You were just fine. Before.

With legs drawn in to your chest, you bowed your forehead to your knees, interlacing white knuckles behind your head under the notch of your skull.  It was a posture, now, both purposeful and an enduring childhood instinct.  A dismal attempt to physically protect yourself from a non-physical assailant.  It had been stalking you for well over a decade.  Shuddering, you finally gave in, wilting beneath the onslaught.  

Just for a minute, you thought.  You could slip off your defenses just for a minute.  You let the tears come.

Would you ever be happy again…?  

It was so foreign, you hadn’t even realized you were happy until the glimmer disappeared.    Now gone with a hopeless finality.  In a fog, you chastised yourself for not even recognizing joy when it walked beside you, even when it held your hand warmly and pressed weighty kisses to your temple.  The acts of skinship that for most were normal in the bounds of a relationship were profound intimacies for you.

You recalled his contented sigh.  It was so warm.  

The sound and brush of his breath against your forehead would haunt you...  

A strong passing wind split off down the alley, swirling its way back to your perch on the steps.   Warm tears quickly became icy against your cheeks, stinging your skin, and bringing you back to your five senses.  How long had you been under this time?

Oh LAAAAAAAAAUUUUUWD....