⇋

“I believe we need to talk. About Sowon.”

⇋

Sehun glances sideway to Sowon playing with his friends on the swings nearby before settling his eyes onto the person in front of him with trepidation.

Jongin is here.

At Sowon’s preschool.

Why?

Jongin, for his part, has a completely composed expression, and Sehun can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.

Then again, when has Sehun ever been able to?

“What… did you want to talk about?” Sehun starts.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting the other to say, but it certainly isn’t “You’ve been working in my company for almost two months, right?”

“Yes…”

“In those two months, you’ve been doing a superb job as my secretary. I’m sure you’re well aware, but Kim Foundations is a Megacorporation, and we treat our employees very well.”

Sehun knits his eyebrows in confusion. “…Yes?”

“I’m saying, Secretary Oh Sehun,” Jongin expounds, “that with your circumstances, you can file a request for our welfare system.”

“My… circumstances?”

“As a single-parent, no? You told me that. And after speaking to your son himself, it seems you’ve been having quite a hard time supporting both him and yourself. Kim Foundation is a very charitable company, and we donate to various charities yearly, and that’s for outside people that are in need of help. Of course, we’ll be happy to help our own employees too in times of need―”

Jongin doesn’t get to say more, for there is a resounding slap struck across his cheek, and Sehun is kind of glad they’re standing in the shades, behind some trees, so probably no one has seen them, but he is mostly just shocked and livid.

“I am not your charity case,” Sehun whispers, his palm stinging with the slap just now, and his shoulders, his arms, his lips are trembling, but he barrels through. “I am not some poor helpless boy for you to take pity on. I’ve been taking care of Sowon by myself for four years now, and I will continue to do so. I do not need you to pity me.”

“That… wasn’t…” Jongin breathes, eyes still shocked at the fact that he’s just been slapped across the face. By Sehun.

“Please stay out of my business,” Sehun continues, uncaring of what the other wants to say. “It has nothing to do with you. I don’t know if you’re motivated by the goodness of your heart or whatever else reason, but do not come to my child’s school again to bother him like this. It’s unethical and improper behavior for the president of the almighty Kim Foundation to bother himself with trivial things like me and my potential hardships.”

Jongin opens his mouth, looks like he wants to say something, but in the end only closes it and drops his gaze.

Sehun frankly does not have the patience to wait for whatever the other wants to say, his chest still boiling in anger and indescribable hurt, and starts walking away.

“We are President and an employee, nothing more. You were the one who made that very clear, were you not?” Sehun whispers as they pass by each other, his voice traitorously cracking on the last part, but at least he isn’t crying.

No matter how much his insides are screaming at him to let out those tears blurring his eyes.

“Goodbye, President Kim.”

With that, he walks away, calling for Sowon to go home.

He refuses to look back and therefore doesn’t see Jongin’s expression afterward, a palm clutching his chest like his heart is shattering into pieces at the ground.

◒

Jongin trudges through the lobby once he’s arrived home, ignoring all the greetings from the passing maids and butlers on the way, and heads straight up the stairs, banging open the door to a certain room on the second floor.

He’s panting heavily once he’s inside, not due to physical exhaustion, but from the sheer ache inside his chest.

It burns. Like his insides are alit with fire and his heart is desperately slamming itself against his ribcages, trying to break out.

Trying to escape from this fool of a man who keeps screwing things up over and over.

“I’m so ing stupid,” he mumbles, filled with self-loath as he takes out the candy jar from his briefcase and sets it onto a desk. “In the end, I only ended up hurting him even more…”

“Kim Jongin knows the concept of other people being hurt by him?” a voice speaks up, and Jongin snaps his eyes back in shock towards the door to see a person walking in nonchalantly.

“Kyungsoo…” he notes, narrowing his eyes at the other.

“I forgot my jacket here,” the other answers his unspoken question at the sudden entrance. After he picks up said jacket on the hanger near the bed, he turns and only stares silently at Jongin.

Jongin knows what the other wants to say―wants to ask what Jongin’s doing here, but can’t because this might as well be solely Jongin’s house now, so Kyungs