Hitting the Mark

by Aidan Wayne

  Preeti was forever stocking his office with snacks. He even had them once in a while, when he remembered. He should really try to remember more often. A protein bar or something around ten or eleven would probably have helped combat some of the fatigue he was feeling now.

  Well, that was neither here nor there. Now he was going to spend time with Marcus, and he’d eat then. Plenty to look forward to. He wondered where Marcus might be interested in going. Taemin was sort of in the mood for a stir-fry dish of some sort. Carb and protein heavy, which was exactly what he’d need.

  He parked and then went to the front of his building to wait for Marcus, who walked up to him a few minutes later. “Was the drive over too bad?”

  “Nah,” Marcus said with a smile. “GPS saves my life a lot.”

  Taemin laughed. “Same here. Well, come on in! I’m on the third floor.” He led the way into the apartment’s entry, and then went straight to the staircase before he faltered. “Sorry,” he said. “The elevator’s just down this way—”

  Marcus put a hand on his shoulder. “I think I can manage the stairs,” he said, voice colored with amusement.

  Pleased, Taemin started up the three flights, then down the hall to his unit. “Here it is,” he said, unlocking the door and showing Marcus inside.

  Taemin quite liked his apartment. It was a two-bedroom, one bath, with an open living room/dining plan, a nice kitchen (which he really should use more often), and large windows that let in lots of natural light. He had it simply furnished, keeping much of the space open and airy, though plants were pretty much everywhere—a trait he’d gotten from his mother. The walls were mostly adorned with martial arts pieces: framed certificates that he didn’t have up at Choi’s; decorative mounts for his favorite weapons; a display made from the boards broken at his very first belt test, when he was a white belt barely three feet tall, and the boards from his first dan black belt test, and all of his old belts, in a ceremonial holder.

  “Would you like something to drink?” he asked as he stepped out of his shoes.

  Marcus shook his head. “I’m good. You said you wanted to take a shower?”

  “If you don’t mind. I can be quick.”

  “I don’t mind at all. Go ahead.” He gave Taemin a crooked grin. “I’ll still be here when you get out. Might as well take the opportunity to change.”

  “Oh!” Of course Marcus had been working just as hard. Taemin was being a poor host, especially since Marcus had a change of clothes. “Would you like to shower too?”

  Marcus looked startled. “Oh, uh—”

  “If you want to,” Taemin amended quickly. “Not that—not that there’s any need. Just, I figured, you were working pretty hard. If you wanted to rinse off?”

  Marcus huffed a laugh. “No offense taken. That’d be great. I’ll hold off on changing, then, and just wait ’til you get out.”

  “I’ll be out soon,” Taemin assured him, before ducking into the bathroom.

  He stripped down, leaving his clothes in a pile to scoop up and put in the laundry hamper once he was out of the shower, and stepped under the spray. It was a little odd to be taking a shower knowing Marcus was just in the next room. He didn’t often have people over where that was something that’d take place.

  Either way, since he was mostly soaping up to get the sweat off, he was finished quickly. Grabbed a towel for cursory dry-off so that he didn’t keep Marcus waiting for his turn, then wrapped said towel around his waist and left the bathroom.

  “Shower’s yours,” he said to Marcus, who was sitting on his couch and doing something with his phone.

  Marcus looked up and dropped his phone. He swore and bent to pick it up, then stood, hefting his duffel. “Right! Yeah, thanks.”

  “Let me get you a towel.” Taemin went to the linen closet and pulled out a fresh one, holding it out to Marcus.

  Marcus took it in his free hand. “Thanks,” he said, ducking his head. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “No rush,” Taemin assured him before turning to his bedroom.

  He threw his sweat-soaked clothes in his laundry hamper, hung his towel up to be dealt with later, and then pulled on a pair of jeans and a black “Choi’s Taekwondo Academy” T-shirt, which he had about a million of.

  The door to the bathroom was still closed when he left his bedroom, so he swung by his kitchen to get a glass of water. He had to brace against his kitchen counter to deal with another wave of shakiness. Food. Food was probably a good idea.

  “Everything okay?”

  Taemin spun around to see Marcus watching him with an expression of concern. He was wearing cargo shorts and a fitted red V-neck, and droplets of water were escaping his curly hair and trailing down the side of his neck.

  Taemin blinked hard. “Just fine,” he said, putting the empty glass on the counter. “Ready?”

  “Yeah,” Marcus said after a moment. “Sure. Let’s go.”

  Since they’d have to return to Taemin’s place to drop him back off, Marcus left his duffel at the apartment, pulling his baseball cap low over his eyes again as they headed to his car. It was funny to think of him trying to use it as a disguise, as it did nothing to hide his well-angled face, the way his muscles moved under his shirt, his strong legs. Which was an odd thing to notice, Taemin felt. Though it wasn’t as if it wasn’t all true. Marcus was an attractive man. That was simply fact. The movie industry had even helped him build a career on it.

  “What are you in mood for?” Marcus asked as they got inside his car.

  “Do you not have a preference?”

  Marcus shook his head. “I picked the last place we went to, remember?”

  That was true. All right, then, Taemin did have a particular food he was craving. “Have you ever been to Little Tree? It’s in Royal Oak. Specializing in Asian cuisine. It’s got quite a good selection of food from different places, as well as sushi, if you like that.”

  Marcus’s lips quirked as he started the car. “I live in California. I’d probably be excommunicated if I didn’t like sushi. Little Tree it is.” He set it on Google Maps, and away they went.

  They drove in silence for a few minutes before Marcus said, “So you’re training on Sundays too?”

  Taemin nodded. “Of course. I need to make sure I’m in top form. Sunday is usually a good day for me to meet with other higher ranks, since most schools are closed then. I try to get together with someone every week for at least a few hours.”

  “But… didn’t you do that Friday?”

  “Well, yes. But again, I need to make sure I’m as good as I can be. And Sundays are still pretty restful. I train for two or three hours in the morning, and then I’ve got the rest of the day to myself.” Granted, once he had started meeting with others to train, his days had gotten fuller recently, but—“Same with Saturdays really. Classes end at one. I do my own thing in the dojang for another hour or two, and then I’ve got the rest of the day.”

  “What do you tend to use your days off for?”

  Taemin shrugged. “This and that. Errands mostly. Grocery shopping, laundry… the mundane stuff.” He chuckled. “Though I’ll admit, sometimes I wake up, work out, shower, eat, and then feel like going right back to bed.”

  “Yeah,” Marcus said after a pause, “I can imagine.”

  “And you? How are you filling your days right now? When does filming start?”

  “It’s slated to start the Monday after next. Everyone else—the actors, rest of the crew, are all arriving tomorrow. Most of the sets are built, and what isn’t yet will be done while we film other things. Next week’s going to be filled with being walked through different areas, getting fitted for costumes, reuniting with the main cast and with Billy. I probably won’t get my first day out of days until sometime later in the week.”

  “Day out of days?”

  “It’s a type of call sheet. It basically breaks down who is going to be doing filming when and where, for the week. They can change on a day-to-day basis somet
imes, depending on a bunch of situations, so nothing’s really set in stone, but it’s nice to have. So for instance, it might say that me, Roger, and Hailey—she’s the kid playing Roger’s sister—are all supposed to be working on Tuesday. Or, if we’re going to be doing scenes that Hailey isn’t in, it might just call for me and Roger.”

  “That sounds like it can get complicated.”

  “You get used to it.” Marcus laughed. “And it helps that I don’t have to do anything but be where they tell me to be. And half the time I don’t even need to get there myself; they send me cars. I’ll tell you one thing I’m looking forward to, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The practice space. For all the fights and stunt work, we’ll be working on blocking all throughout the filming process. We’re renting space from Troy’s Gymnastics, which is a huge open gym building. Because part of the movie takes place in space, we’re doing a lot of zero-gravity action sequences, which sound like they’ll be a lot of fun to work on.”

  “That does sound fun! I hope you enjoy it.”

  Marcus smiled at him. “Me too.”

  Chapter Five

  MARCUS WASN’T ready to say goodbye once they finished eating. He was having a great time and it seemed like Taemin was too. Lunch had been lots of stories about their current lives interspersed with reminiscing, along with plenty of laughter. He hadn’t felt this kind of connection to someone else in years.

  “What do you have going on for the rest of the day?” he asked once he’d paid. Taemin had tried to protest, but Marcus had won in the end. “Any plans?”

  Taemin shook his head. “Grocery shopping at some point. There’s a store right by my apartment that I usually walk to. But if I go on a weekend, I usually go later in the day when less people tend to be there.”

  So Taemin had no real plans. “Well,” Marcus said. “It’s a nice day. And Royal Oak is a good meandering area. Want to go for a walk?”

  “Sure.” Taemin smiled.

  They left the restaurant and set out, walking side by side down Main Street, drifting into easy, companionable silence. It was so nice to just be with someone and not feel like he had to entertain them.

  Barely three days, and Marcus was pretty sure that he was in love. Hell.

  “Marcus?”

  “Sorry,” Marcus said, coming back down to Earth. “Yeah?”

  “Mind wandering?” Taemin asked, grinning cheekily at him.

  You have no idea. “Maybe a little.” He pinched his fingers together. “What did you say?”

  Taemin pointed at a café right in front of them. “I was thinking about bubble tea. Did you want some?”

  “Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.”

  “And I’ll be paying this time,” Taemin said, leveling him with a look.

  Marcus held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”

  The café was pretty large, decorated in wood and wicker, with original art on the walls and a huge chalkboard displaying the menu.

  “The bubble tea orders are over here,” Taemin said to him, picking up two little laminated sheets and a dry-erase marker. “You select what you want to order here. It’s very customizable.”

  “Hi, Taemin,” the girl behind the counter said.

  Taemin smiled at her. “Hi, Serena. How’s the day going?”

  “Pretty good.” She glanced at the card in his hand. “Bubble tea today?”

  Taemin nodded. “But it’ll take a minute. I’ll have my usual, but my friend hasn’t been here before.”

  Serena smiled at Marcus. “Feel free to ask about our—” Her eyes widened. “No way.”

  Marcus hid a wince. Looks like he’d been recognized. Again, not unexpected, but it sort of interfered with the normalcy—and intimacy—of the time he had been having. “Hey,” he said. “What’s Taemin’s regular? He comes here a lot, then?”

  “Oh, uh, y-yeah.” Serena looked between them. “Almond cocoa black milk tea, tapioca bubbles, no ice.”

  “I’m very set in my ways,” Taemin put in. “Also, this way I don’t have to decide what I’m going to order every single time.”

  “Sounds about right,” Marcus said. He smiled at Serena and then made a show of looking at the little “flavor of the week” display. “Strawberry milk tea with the yogurt boba sounds interesting. I’ll try that.”

  “Right! Yes, yeah, of course.”

  “And ring us up together please,” Taemin said quickly, wallet already in hand.

  Once she’d given Taemin the receipt, Serena went to make the bubble tea. It was only a few minutes before she was handing them over the counter to them.

  “Um,” she said, after giving Marcus his. “I-I hope you like it.”

  “Thanks.” He waited.

  “Could I have an autograph?” she burst out. “My sister and I love your movies.”

  Marcus glanced at Taemin, who was watching curiously, and smiled at Serena. “I’ll do you one better. Want a selfie with me?”

  “Oh my god, yes, please, Brooklyn will die.”

  “That your sister?” Marcus asked as she came around the counter. She nodded. “Well, I appreciate you two being fans of mine.”

  A group of people had come into the café by the time Serena was done taking her pictures, and they were all looking curiously at Marcus. He recognized the mood of a crowd about to know who he was, so he quickly grabbed Taemin’s elbow.

  “Let’s get back on that walk, huh?”

  Taemin went easily, waiting until they were back on the street about half a block away before saying, “That must get tiresome.”

  Marcus knew what he was talking about, but he shook his head. Even if Taemin was right. “No, it’s okay. Just comes as part of the package.”

  Taemin frowned. “Just because it’s something you’re used to doesn’t mean it doesn’t get old. It must. To be stopped all the time, or bothered, or stared at.”

  “Yeah,” Marcus said after some hesitation. “Yeah it does, sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay. Really. It’s such a small thing, in the big picture.”

  “Well,” Taemin said, voice light, “if you ever need a place where you know you won’t be treated any differently, you have Choi’s. Everyone’s equal on the mat.”

  Marcus gave him a crooked smile and wished he could kiss him. “Thanks.”

  SUNDAY WAS Taemin’s real day off. He trained and taught full-time Monday to Saturday, so Sunday was his day to rest and fully recharge. He often slept late (sometimes until nine), had an easy breakfast, and the rest of the day was for catching up on reading or other media (mostly training seminars and martial arts expos), lounging about his apartment, and actually using his kitchen. When asked, he normally would call Sundays “indulgence” days. Or they used to be.

  Now, while his days didn’t start at five like his Monday and Wednesday mornings, he was still up early to get ready for a full day of training. Even if he’d spent his whole life honing his skills, he always kicked it into high gear before a big competition—and the Olympic qualification tournament certainly counted for that. It was the start of May and the competition was the beginning of June, meaning he only had about a month left. He was confident in his abilities, but the worst thing he could do was rely on them and slack off in the last few weeks he had to better himself.

  And maybe he was thinking too hard about the trials, but it would be his first, and probably only, attempt at the Olympics. Five years ago he had just begun to take on running Choi’s. Traveling to compete in tournaments was the last thing on his mind. Now that he was more confident and more established as the current Master, with Preeti and Mr. Avi able to run classes without him if needed, he was able to do a little more for himself in the martial arts world. Not to mention that the more titles he had, the better his own reputation. It wouldn’t do for the current Master of Choi’s Taekwondo Academy—Ki-hyuk’s American school and legacy—to seem as though he was stagnating. He’d been competin
g again in earnest for the last two years and doing quite well, if he did say so himself. Even with the embarrassment that had come from his little hiccup during nationals after he’d medaled.

  He had a light breakfast—nothing too heavy before working himself hard—and then drove to the academy, already going over the day’s planning in his head. Bodyweight strength-training, then an hour or two of static stretching, before moving on to speed and endurance drills. About four hours, give or take, with a few rest breaks in between. Then he’d go home to shower and eat, maybe fit in a nap, and drive down to Detroit, where he and two other Masters were meeting to train together and exchange techniques.

  Once Taemin arrived at the dojang, he stowed his shoes and duffel bag, then went to change into his dobok. After he was dressed, he swung by his office to put on some music.

  He stepped out into the empty mat, took a deep breath, and got started.

  About two hours later, he was pulling himself out of his last stretch, perhaps stumbling just a little at the change from being on the floor to standing. Instead of reaching for his water bottle, he went into his office’s minifridge to grab one of the bottles he kept in there. Filled with a cold mixture of lightly sweetened and salted green tea, a homemade drink his father swore by, it was a boost of energy from the sugar and an electrolyte renewal from the salt. He took a long pull, gasping a little when finished, then headed back out onto the mat to start his speed drills.

  Taemin hadn’t even gotten started when the bell over his door jingled. He turned to face the newcomer—probably a walk-in looking for information. He got those once in a while when he trained by himself, with the lights being on and the door being open.

  His eyes widened in surprise to see Mr. Avi bowing into the building. He was wearing khakis and a polo, pretty typical weekend wear for him. Unless he was planning to change, he definitely wasn’t looking to train.