hello! i must apologise for the delay in posting of this chapter. however, i must tell you why it happened. my exams which were supposed to start the previous month did not start as intended. they decided to postpone it, and we had been in doubt since then. i could not focus on writing this chapter, because i was anxious about it happening now or whenever. anyway, it started on 21, and mine will be finished on 26. after that, i could sail smoothly with my stories and their updates! until next time. xD

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chapter two: autumn

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It was not the desire as much as it was the necessity, Sehun had to wed this young man and there was really no other choice. Though reluctant and unwilling, he agreed, and soon brought Jongin into his own world which was, comparatively, less lavish and less what-Jongin-liked. Not that Sehun cared, not until a week later when his parents talked to him about it. Jongin, to him in the beginning, seemed and sounded like a narcissistic . If he were a… normal person, Sehun would have slammed him head first into the nearest wall, and then would have kissed him senseless because he was, though regrettably, gorgeous. He had heard enough about Kim Jongin from people around, and who would not have known him, but that did not mean Jongin had particularly all loving people around him. He was surrounded by more envious than loving people, and to Sehun he always seemed rather obnoxious. Perhaps that was where his judgement slighted, and he remained annoyed by him for most of the days.

It came to a stop soon, though, Which was, as his father argued, inevitable. That was why he had more men put into the work of the new home, which he tried to have as much to Jongin’s expectations as he could afford. A wedding gift from him, though he dared not say that to Jongin for they had yet to come to a mutual understanding. Whatever decent conversation they had was because Sehun’s problems were now Jongin’s, and Jongin’s were Sehun’s. One man’s problem was another man’s; one man’s happiness was another man’s, and so on, and so forth. They had to share. So, they shared, though always on the edge of the fringe of consciousness that it was only a five-year deal, and they both would turn around and show each other their backs if the time demanded so, which they thought was just as inevitable.

Jongin was rather, well, demanding. Sehun would say that. He was a lot more dramatic, and had the appeal of a Victorian woman. Before meeting him for the first time, Sehun had allowed himself to imagine how he would be as a person; which was not really hard to imagine. A boy who got hurt in his teens, and had been living his moving life on a wheelchair could not be hard to understand; he could be irritable by nature after the little, but still widely unknown accident, he thought, or he could be silent, hurt, and shy in front of everyone else--and possibly, a little delicate, and fragile to handle. So, Sehun thought himself ready, and believed that he could do well with a meek husband who would not interfere in his life and would, at times, be a good companion for as long as the marriage lasted. It was planned. Hope was placed. Expectations were made.

Jongin was a meek, little thing that people had misjudged, and miscalculated. He needed someone to understand him, and his struggles after the painful accident that left him bereft of a ‘normal life’ that he had been promised since his birth.

That was what Sehun had expected, and so he had made his mind about that despite what he had been told by his colleagues, and his friends about the infamous nature of the youngest Kim. After all, everyone led two personalities; Jongin could have an arrogant personality in front of the camera for all they knew, but he could be fragile like a newborn when off and safe in his home.

Sehun believed so. So, as aforementioned: hope was placed, and expectations were made.

Now, as was said by a great man that expectations often lead to grave disappointments, Sehun’s came to the similar consequence. Sooner than he had expected, even; in fact, it came right on their first meeting. Jongin, snarky and so like, had given him a side eye when they had been introduced to each other, and though he remained charming to his parents, he had made it clear to Sehun that he was not exactly the easiest person to be around. It was humiliating enough that he had felt something that he swore he would never feel for Jongin: he had pitied him. He pitied the man who was stuck to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, and pitied the man who had grown too arrogant for his little, ‘diseased’ body. It had brought humiliation to himself, of how weak of an ego and self-respect he had to feel about someone who had probably been through a painful accident to be left like that. However, the feeling of pity was just as persistent as Jongin’s snarkiness to him.

They were soon found in the garden of the Kim’s, and there only Sehun had the taste of Jongin’s speech. From those five minutes, he had gathered that Jongin despised how failed of a businessman he was, and how Jongin was nothing but a mouthy spitfire. Needless to say it did not go well; their first conversation.

Though they were not given much time, and before they knew it was time for the wedding. Which was, according to his loving parents: yay! celebration time, Hunnie!

If you had a family like Sehun, you’d be living the same life.

Wedding over, it was time to bring Jongin to his new home which he, of course, did not like. It was not even like it was their permanent residence, he had explained everything to Jongin, and Jongin had still acted like a… child. Perhaps it was his fault, too; perhaps he had not explained things perfectly, and had only said things in frustrated gibberish. But, the way Jongin had reacted--it was too much. After a little argument, he had gotten angry, and had drunk more than he usually did. The next day, it was hard to go along the day, but he managed. Somehow.

Conversations with Jongin were always a struggle; Jongin often acted as if he wanted to be anywhere but in Sehun’s presence, and it would bring enough irritation that Sehun would feel the same. Conversations with Jongin were exhausting, and they often took too much of his energy; whatever energy was left after another difficult day at the company, and from his sobriety. He would drink again, and the cycle would repeat.

Then, after a deeply satisfying talk with his own parents (and their parental guide about why and how he should approach Jongin), Jongin and he had a conversation, It went, comparatively, better than all that they ever had. In fact, it was the best they ever had in those weeks of living together. It was enough to break the ice between them, and soon enough the presence of each other was tolerable to each other. It was fine, and he might have thought of Jongin after that, most of the time. He might have also defended Jongin's past choices, and behaviours, in the public, and among his colleagues. He might have done a lot; and he did a lot, because Jongin was sure as hell anything but the cocky bastard Sehun had thought of him as.

The apartment was ready, Jongin was given a tour and he, thankfully, liked it enough to not throw a fit at his new home; which was, honestly, much less than what Jongin had lived his whole life in. It was pretty, but quaint enough; big enough for the two of them, but homey enough to make them both feel at ease.

Everything was going as perfect as it could, before he received the bills of thousands of won spent just on food; expensive, little things that he himself never paid second thought to. Pizzas. Stupid pizzas, and other stuff that cost a few thousand won for a tiny plate. Jongin was going out of control. Sehun had no idea about his appetite, and it seemed that not cooking for him before going to the office was overall a bad news for their financial planning--his financial planning. He could not afford this lifestyle, and so confronted Jongin about it. Though he had expected another fit of childish anger thrown at home, Jongin seemed devastated about something else entirely. What it was all about he had no idea, however, he knew there must have been some miscommunication between Jongin’s family and him for him to react that way. Throughout the night, he heard Jongin sobbing in his room.

He could have been there, helped him, and perhaps nursed him back to his usual brattiness, but he could not. He dared not. He did not know what were the limits, the boundaries that Jongin probably wanted in their relationship, and it need not be said that he did not either know how to treat someone with kind words. He had never been good with words.

The next day, Jongin asked him to be dropped at his former house, and Sehun did as was asked. Something must have happened--Jongin looked exhausted, pained, and in suffering when he came back, but he did not say anything to Sehun. Sehun, of course he did not ask for anything as well.

(Some weeks later, the feeling would come out eventually: to know more and more about this living, breathing, doll looking human that he shared his personal bubble with. It came. It always did.)

Weeks later, his parents dropped the tradition on them, and they had a little photo session. It was, well, one of the best evenings of his life, except perhaps all those moments where Jongin looked like he would climb Lucas, their photographer, like a tree. It was funny, upsetting, and it was annoying--it was funny because Sehun knew it was not real. (Or at least he hoped it was not real.) After that, it was almost hazy with how quick things got more than decent between them. Something must have passed between them that evening that he could not pinpoint, because it had changed them so much that it gave Sehun a whiplash that Jongin could act so kindly towards him when Sehun’s whole existence sounded pathetic to him right before that day. Whatever happened, Sehun was grateful for that. For that evening had brought them so close, he was almost sure it would not be long before they would need each other’s constant presence in each other’s lives.

***

“Really?” Jongin moaned from the other end of the dining table, “bread and omelette, again?”

“I am sorry I can’t afford fancy food every day,” he replied dryly, and munched heartily on his own breakfast. “”Sides, I have work, unlike some people who just stay at home and do nothing.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Be resourceful, I guess.”

“I can’t believe I married a ing poor like you.” Jongin snarked, though, surprisingly, good naturedly.

Sehun rolled his eyes at the insult. It was not like Jongin had not called him poor before. He could not help it if Jongin did not like living in, well, less money than he was used to. He was trying everything in his hand to make his business better, but it was not his fault (though it was, he admitted in solemn silence) that everything was only above average. The competition was high, and apparently Sehun’s team did not know how to hire good, experienced, and actually talented people into their company.

Jongin passed him a glare before he took his first bite. “Bring me to your company some day, will you? I want to see where my dear husband works.” He smiled, patronisingly.

“Are you actually curious about it?”

“I don’t know, maybe I am.”

He drank his water. “I will,” he promised, “I just need to make some time off my sce--”

“You need help.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He snapped, and then sighed. “Look, Jongin, whatever that is going in your head--”

“Only good things, I promise.” He blinked innocently.

“Yeah, whatever.” He pushed his plate a little farther from himself. He was not hungry anymore. “I get it, you know--I get it that you can’t handle seeing me fail a company that you said has great potential. But, sometimes I would love to have you respect me. I know I have yet to earn it, but as your husband, you should at least try to be civil.”

Jongin pressed his lips together. He looked more tired than Sehun. "Look, I just want one thing, and that is seeing my--you on the top of the food chain. I did what I had to do for my family, it was my obligation. They were struggling, and I did what I did as their--" he stopped, and breathed, "they did what they had to me. Now, I want to do that for you."

"You don't owe me anything, Jongin," he reminded him softly.

"No, I don't," Jongin agreed. "I don't owe you , but that does not mean I want to live like this for the rest of my life. I have, like, decades before I die." He looked down at his shirt which was recently bought, but was not from where Jongin wanted his clothes from. Jongin liked all his stuff from expensive brands; Gucci, Chanel, and D&G were some of his favorites.

It was not necessary to announce that Sehun had not done justice to his liking--however, he could not understand why Jongin would demand a brand to wear at home. They were tight on money, and Jongin needed to understand that. He would like to do nothing but shower Jongin in riches and spoil him to his heart's content--but, but there was always a But. But, Sehun was tight on money, and Jongin was his husband--and since he did not do any work, he relied completely on Sehun. Which brought him to the aforementioned point; they were tight on money. It was a never ending cycle, and he feared more than Jongin that his situation would force Jongin to live like that as well.

"I really can't live like this for my whole life." Jongin insisted, his expression pinched like he actually could not live wearing normal clothes like normal people did. He looked horrified for a second, and Sehun wondered how much Jongin had spent on clothes alone all these years to look like that. It was funny, but Sehun could take that. His husband was born and brought up in money.

"You only wear a brand from head to toe when you have to show off, Jongin. You, of all people, don't need to do that. You can wear a simple shirt, and still," he breathed, and kept speaking without realising what he was saying, "look a runaway model. ing gorgeous." He breathed, voice a little strained when he caught the little spark in Jongin’s doe eyes.

When Jongin muttered a low, amused 'ah' under his breath, eyebrows raised at him, he realised his slip up. He blushed, and then choked on his water. "Ah, ah," he coughed. "Look what time is it! I am getting late!"

When he came back with his bag to bid Jongin a good day before leaving, Jongin was smirking at him. That little tilt of his mouth, arrogant and sure of his beauty. Well, Sehun could not complain. Jongin owned that; he was entitled to it with the way he looked, and breathed.

"It's okay to tell your husband he looks beautiful everyday. Would not hurt anyone. Trust me." He tilted his head to the side, and blinked his eyes prettily.

Sehun rolled his eyes, and then furrowed his brows, pretending to be annoyed by his husband's curious behaviour. "You really are narcissistic. Wow."

"No, I am not. I am just well aware."

He rolled his eyes. Jongin really was… too different. "Yup. Whatever. I have to go now. Otherwise I would be late. Could not afford that."

"Sure," Jongin said, still grinning widely. Sehun could not help but think his husband looked stunning.

He cleared his throat. "Alright. Good day, Jongin."

"Make some time for the company, handsome! I really want to visit it someday."

He blushed. "Sure will."

***

The thing with Jongin was that he liked attention, but pretended that he did not. He longed for some attention--of whatever kind--but behaved like it would not hurt him if someone denied him what he was born for. Sehun had caught on it early enough. Jongin did not just like attention to himself, he loved it; he breathed more on it. There was a sense of satisfaction in him whenever he got it; the superficial one.

Then, there was this particular kind of attention that Jongin liked--the one that made him thrice (or more) as vulnerable as when he pretended to be the cocky Kim Jongin the world knew him as. This was the kind of attention that made Sehun think and wonder about him more and more, for this was the kind of attention that showed Sehun the true version of the young man. This was the kind of desired attention that he started adoring that he could not help but buy A Lange & Sôhne for Jongin. He secretly hoped that Jongin would like it: one, it did cost him a fortune; second, because he had spent quite a few hours in between the hundreds of choices given to him at the store.

The kind of attention Sehun was talking about was hard to explain, but it was there. Glaringly obvious, and ready to be understood. Sehun did not know of Jongin's past, he did not know what he had been through and what not, he definitely was not sure how Jongin's relationship with his family was (though if the passing months had taught him anything, it was that the relationship between Jongin and his family was bitter), but he knew Jongin longed for that kind of attention that every lonely person did.

Sehun's thought and words process were muddled at this moment, so he couldn't care less if his statements next made much sense, excuse him, please:

These people, who seeked this particular kind of attention, were vulnerable, and needed the kind of reassurance that they wanted but thought they did not deserve. It depended, Sehun could not do anyone justice unless they explained themselves. So, instead of thinking about all others who were in the same position as Jongin, he thought just of Jongin.

It, the thought process, brought Sehun to a single conclusion: Jongin was alone, had been for a very long time, and was willing to do anything--good or bad, rude and cocky--if it meant it could bring him under light. But there was this moment where some vulnerable loneliness shrieked in him, and in that little passing second, Sehun could catch that adoring kind of attention seeking Jongin. It was in these passing seconds that Sehun realised that Jongin was anything but the 'attention seeking ' he had been 'crowned' as. He was lost somewhere, but was unaware of the natural kindness of people and did not believe being sweet could bring him such. So, he played games with his own rules, and almost always won.

He had thought of all this several weeks ago but even after all these weeks, he could not help but think Jongin was confusing.

So, he rolled his car to a stop, and leaned back against the seat. He breathed, a stinging sensation was felt behind his closed eyelids and his heart felt heavy. He swallowed. A very long time ago, when he was a child, he had been taught by his father that control, most of the time, was an illusion. The more one tried to control, to be a controller and a master of all, the more complicated it would get. It was not possible to control what was happening to one, so how could one even imagine to control someone else.

It was easy enough that he learnt it right away. In the beginning, he had tried to control Jongin, he had tried to affect his behavior so that his nature would fit in the safe mold Sehun had made for everyone in his life; he tried to control the young man, but forgot that simple lesson taught to him in his childhood.

The truth was, he could not control any of Jongin--he could not guide him on his words, or command him with his unnecessary orders--and perhaps that was the beauty of Jongin. Despite being attached to a wheelchair for god knew how long, he had this little fire in him that Sehun had lost somewhere after his teenage years, when the constant tries at business had left him bereft of life, and he was left alone in front of the hungry beast of illusion and laziness. Every opportunity that one received was on the other side of an invisible door, all one needed was to find the key, and open that goodman door that kept one away from their dreams. Sehun had, as bitter as it sounded now, lost the will to find the key somewhere along the ways of constant failures.

Now, he was left to deal with a mediocre life where almost nothing inspired him to the future.

Jongin’s story amazed him; how a little boy, who got into an accident in his teens and hence was strapped to a wheelchair after that, brought a company much worse than Sehun’s to the height where almost everyone in the business respected it, and feared it. A little nod from Jongin’s company, a little shift of money from here to there--and the whole market would go tumtulous. Despite other big companies around, Jongin’s company played its own game like it was a monopoly. Truth was; Jongin’s story, much to Sehun’s horror, was inspiring him to do something similar. Every night Sehun would go to sleep with a single wish to do something bigger and unique the next day, but the next day would always bring the usual disappointment to him. So, it was like inspiration came and went, and never stayed like before.

The horns blared behind him, and he sighed. He rolled his car to movement again.

***

“Sir,” his assistant called, softly and in a sad tone, as she should after a failed business meeting. “Mrs. Oh is waiting for you in your office.”

“What is she doing here?” He rolled his tongue against his cheek. “Did she say anything?”

“No, sir. She asked you to meet her before leaving for the Board meeting.”

“Oh, well.” He bid his colleagues farewell before leaving the conference room for his own office. The meeting was a failure, as almost every other was, and so he decided to divert his mind to something else entirely. What was his mother here for? Did she already know the outcome of the meeting? If so, was she gravely disappointed as Sehun was? What exactly was she here for anyway? He sighed, breathed once, and then stepped into his office. His assistant remained behind.

“Mom,” he greeted, and hugged her to his chest. “How are you?”

“Fine,” she answered, smiling up at him. “Though I am a little busy around here.”

His smile dipped. “Mom--I,” he sighed, “the meeting did not go through.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, though both knew it was a bigger deal than what they both were letting on. “Did you see Jongin? He is here with me.”

It was only then that he noticed Jongin’s small presence in the corner of the room, beside the floor to ceiling window that overlooked the entirety of the city. “I--uh,” he futilely fumbled for his words.

“Hi, Sehun.” Jongin smiled, “nice view you got here.”

“I told you, right?” Mrs. Oh said, “I promised you it’d look beautiful from here.”

“It does, mom.”

“I don’t understand. My assistant never said anything about Jongin--why is here, mom?”

“I take offense.”

“Sehun,” his mother chastised. “I visited your place, and I asked if he wanted to tag along. He said yes, and I couldn't help myself. It’s only alright to let him have a look around the company, Sehun. It’s his just as much as yours.”

He flushed. “No, that’s not it. I am just surprised that’s all.”

“It’s okay.” She smiled. “I have to go anyway! So, you two, do whatever newly married people do nowadays!”

“Seriously, mom. Stop it.” He rolled his eyes. “You will embarrass Jongin.” He hissed in a whisper. He looked over at Jongin to check if he had heard anything. The young man was looking outside the window, his eyes fixed on the setting sun. He swallowed. “You are leaving, yes?” His mother grinned, though said nothing. She kissed both Jongin and him on their cheeks before leaving. He cleared his throat at the silence she left behind. “I did not know you were coming over. It’s a surprise.”

“My office had a similar view, you know?” Jongin began instead, eyes still fixed ahead, like always. “I mean, it was prettier. It did not have so many buildings ahead, it was almost clear of anything human made. You could see the sky--though sometimes you could not. News flash! Pollution--and you could tell yourself that that was your limit. It was pretty and all, everything had some symbolic meaning. I gave them that.” He stopped, and finally turned to him. “Mom came over, and I couldn’t help myself from coming here. So. Yup.”

“I mean, I am just surprised. But, happy that you are here. Do you like it?”

“It’s amazing,” Jongin agreed.

“Do you want something?”

Jongin’s eyes were trained on his lap, at the ring on his ring finger that Sehun gave him on their wedding day. “I talked to some of your employees. Very polite, very honest.”

Sehun, taking it as a compliment, puffed his chest out in pride. “Well, all of them are. You could talk to every single one of them, and you’d still find--”

“Not really good for business, if I say so myself.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Jongin huffed, and looked up at him. His eyes were shining, but they were always shining so Sehun could not understand the meaning behind the light in his orbs. “Business is not for honest people, Sehun. Business is for greedy people. There’s no place for honesty here, you have to lie, and your employees don’t know how to do that. Your employees don’t know the basics, Sehun. How is this company ever going to be anything but average?”

He swallowed. “Jongin--”

“Do you know what kind of competition we have in the business? We have cutthroat competition, Sehun. A little slip up, and you are gone. Forgotten. It’s easy to forget a company, Sehun.” He looked at Sehun, and leaned heavily against his seat. “I am not saying you don’t know how to do business, but that’s what I am saying. You don’t. It’s okay to be transparent, transparency is perfect. Good for business, even. But, too much of it, and it’s not going to work for you anymore. You lie, and you hide, and then only it will work. It did for me, and it does for hundreds of us.

“There are no good people in business. Because business itself is filthy, Sehun. It the money out of people to make people like you and I rich. It’s mean, and sometimes even inhuman--the ways that some of us go through--but it is inherent, Sehun. Evil is inherent, business and greed only heightens it.”

“I seriously don’t understand where you are going with this, Jongin.”

Jongin sighed. “At this rate, and this way, this company is going to struggle for a long time before it stops at once.”

“So what do you want me to do? I am trying everything! I have tried everything.”

“You have not tried the only thing, Sehun. You have not tried doing business.”

“Jongin,” he said, jaw clenched, “business is all I have tried doing.”

Jongin laughed, a mocking one. He was back to his snarkiness. “Is that why you’re still a loser?”

“Jongin. Stop.”

“If this is what you call doing business, then don’t. You’re embarrassing us all.”

“Jongin.” He took heavy steps towards Jongin before he stopped beside the table, anger swirled slowly beneath his skin. “Jongin, stop.”

"Is that why I have to--"

"Jongin, seriously, I am trying. Jesus. Cut me some slack!" He snarled, and slapped a heavy hand on the table. Jongin pressed his lips together, but still looked like he could fight tooth and nail just to prove his point. He sighed. "There are good people in the business, Jongin. Inherently good people. You just have to look for them."

"They're good because they have money, Sehun. At one point, most of us don't find money as beautiful as before. At one point, money loses its value like everything else." He leaned over, to have as close proximity with Sehun as possible. "They were greedy once. We all are. I am. You are. Don't ing deny it, Sehun." He pressed his lips together once again, eyes blazing in anger. He looked every bit of gorgeous he did in his interviews, the one Sehun had secretly grown to admire.

"Your employees need to know that business does not work on kindness. You have to be leech. You have to the blood out of them. It is how it is done, Sehun. There is really no other way.

"To make things a little better for yourself, you can always start some charity program or something. That would soothe the nerves of them."

"Did you do that all--your little charities, generous donations, and everything in between--for money?"

Jongin sighed, a little resigned at this moment. "I did it because I care." There was enough earnestness in his voice and his eyes that Sehun could not argue with it. "That is why my family is not particularly fond of me. They think I am the black hole, small, but the one who out everything and gives nothing in return. My way is not the way it is done, Sehun."

He scoffed, though not at Jongin's statements but rather the sick irony of it. Kim Jongin, who had everything but nothing at the same time, was sitting in front of him, teaching him life lessons that he probably learnt at an early age, but the same was denied to him by his own.

"So, think of it as a side effect. You have to do the good to be admired. Or adored. Whatever. But business, Sehun, is greedy. Just ing accept it."

He swallowed, and stepped further into the room and into Jongin's space. He kneeled in front of him, and swallowed, again. "Have you ever loved your family?"

It must have brought some unknown memory to him, or something that Sehun had yet to know, because there was this familiar shine in Jongin's eyes; the kind that promised so much vulnerability that Sehun was afraid that if Jongin began, he could not hold him.

"I have tried loving them," he simply answered. It was enough for Sehun.

***

Jongin loved fried chicken, so Sehun brought him to this popular joint. It was small, and definitely not up to Jongin's taste, but Sehun promised him that he would love the food there. He did. Of course he did.

“We are about to launch our new product next week.”

Jongin, annoying Jongin, munched on his chicken first before he spoke. “Does the company have a SNS account?”

“Uh, Instagram. Twitter for all the enquires and all, as well.”

“How many followers?”

Sehun shifted a little on his chair. Embarrassed. “Um, I don’t know.”

“Less than 10 millions in both! I can guarantee.” He puffed his cheeks out, and leaned back against his seat. He looked adorable like that; cheeks puffed out in mock indignation, and eyes wide and accusing as if he could not believe how pathetic Sehun was--which was, okay, a little disheartening to think about. “Huh, not even a solid online presence. How did the company survive until now?”

“Miracles don’t happen everyday.” He smiled, saccharine sweet.

Jongin smiled, amused, but remained silent for some long moments. “So, you are saying you are going to launch a new product the next week, which is, like, only five days later.”

“Yes, I mean--”

“Don’t. Give this two weeks, at least.”

“We can’t, Jongin. See that’s the thing, we can’t. We have been postponing this for a while, and if we delay any longer, there’s a fair chance that it would all go further down. We simply can’t have that.”

“Sehun, the first job of any company is to draw the customers in. You have to add that glam in it, something different than all. Or, if it’s the same--serve them differently. Two different things. But, with the way your company is going, it’s clearly not working. You have to give them something exciting, something that will stop them in their tracks, and they would willingly walk into your stores. That needs time." He his lips. “Besides, I would suggest that you do something similar to it as well. Like, like suppose a corner for mending or for altercations. Have professional stylists at your service, give them a particular hour and let your customers know about it. They need to be shown that you are different. Don’t tell them . Show them.” He blinked up at Sehun. “Do you have anything like that? I don’t know, I have not heard anything like that from your company.”

“Ah,” Sehun said, surprised. “No, no we don’t actually.”

“Well. Here it is. Anyway--” he waved his hand a little--“there are so many options and ideas, Sehun. Like, like, you can arrange exclusives for your regular customers. But, of course, it should have a standard. Give them space, because I am pretty sure your staff probably corner the customers with how polite they are.” He winced a little. “I can tell you a hundred different ways, Sehun. You have to be a little creative, that’s all.”

“I--” he blinked, “never really thought of it that way?”

“Don’t tell me your team never suggested the points I made.”

“Maybe once or twice, but never sure. They were never sure of it, Jongin.”

Jongin blinked. “Oh, man, I am sorry to say this, but you really need a new team.” Sehun, shocked, remained silent. “Look, you don’t have to feel bad for them. They are earning so much, it was their job to make things better for their company. If they can't, then they need to go. Sehun, you will have to fire them. Tell you what,” he said, and did not give Sehun a chance to speak about the matter, “my team back at my company--which sadly is not mine anymore--is loyal to me.” He grinned, a mischief in his tone “I am pretty sure they are desperate to come back to me.”

He sighed, and rubbed his fingers over his eyes. “Jongin, I don’t know. I really don’t know.” He shook his head. “I can’t just fire them. I-I need a reason, how could I justify firing them?”

“How could you not? They are not doing their work, what more reason do you need?”

Sehun pressed his lips in a thin line. “I cannot do that. I am not going to say that your opinions don't matter to me, because they do, and they're brilliant. But, I cannot fire them simply because you say so.”

Jongin seemed, reasonably, pissed off now. He probably had never been put down like that. “You know what, don’t. Don’t fire them right now.” He was not looking at Sehun, but he was angry. Upset even.

He sighed, again, and tried to soothe him. “Alright, how about a deal?”

“What deal?” Jongin still didn’t look at him, but he sounded curious which was a win for Sehun.

“I launch this new product, give them another chance and if they still come with bull, I will fire them. Deal?” He leaned over the table, now clear of any food. “Sounds fair. I will give them the last chance, and if it sounds fair enough, I will even warn them about it. However, if this doesn’t make much difference, I will fire them. I will fire them right in front of your eyes. Then, we can have your team here, if you’d like that?”

Jongin seemed onboard with the idea of having his own team with the company, but he seemed worried. Reasonably. “It’s a risk.”

“I know. Truth to be told, I know it’s a risk. But, we’ll have to know, right?”

Jongin seemed like he could cry any moment. “A few more months of no brands?” His lips wavered, and Sehun genuinely wondered how much his husband liked to spend on his appearance alone. The truth was, Jongin was gorgeous. He was that kind of gorgeous who’d look stunning even in simple clothing--then why the hell he loved spending money so much! Sehun was baffled. “I feel comfortable in them,” Jongin answered, as if he could read Sehun.

He nodded, and leaned back against his chair to look properly at the younger man. Sehun could not do any justice to Jongin’s immense beauty; it was refined, something of first class. Reasonably out of his reach even though he was considered ‘stunningly handsome’ in his own right.

Alright, he understood--slightly. “Would my gift make this a little better?”

Jongin sniffed, but he still looked on the verge of tears. “What gift?” He sounded curious, slightly excited even.

He grinned. He knew Jongin would love it.

***

Jongin loved the gift, of course he did. In fact, upon seeing what Sehun had brought for him, he had screamed so loud that the manager had to come out to politely ask them to not make noises that might disturb other customers. He seemed happy, so that was a win.

Anyway.

According to the deal, Sehun's team was asked for a better performance in the market, and the product was launched at the time set earlier. It did significantly better, though so little that it was nothing to actually be happy about, and so, as promised, they were fired in Jongin's presence. Jongin, through some legal actions, brought his team back from his previous company much to the chagrin of his family.

Jongin did as promised. The new team assimilated in the new company as if they had always been a part of it, and almost all day flocked around Jongin because they actually cared about no one but Jongin himself. It was a surprising loyalty that Sehun had never really seen in his own, and that left a bitter aftertaste in its wake.

However, it was the failure of another product that got to him more than anything else, and so he found his solace in the only thing that kept him alive soon after the first failure: alcohol. He came home later than usual a few weeks after the product launch, and dived head first into the mini bar; excited hands reached for the expensive bottles, gifted to him by his richer friends, and were finished before anyone could even blink.

He was drunk. In a matter of time. Though his hold on alcohol was good enough that he could differentiate between what was right, and what was wrong; and what he was speaking, and what he was not. So, when Jongin came rolling to him, a mock seriousness and disgust on his face, he couldn't help but futilely try to whisk away the pungent (as called by Jongin himself) smell of the alcohol.

"Man, you're a sorrow drinker, huh?"

"Huh?" He answered integentally.

Jongin rolled his eyes. "Anyway. I wanted to watch this movie--it's my favourite, and I want you to watch it with me."

He laughed. "I don't like watching movies, Jongin. They're not my thing."

"I said I want you to watch this with me."

"Jongin, now don't be demanding."

"It was the last movie I watched with my grandfather. He was one of the best men of my life, and I have a hundred different memories attached to this. I want you to watch it with me, Sehun. I don't care if watching movies is your thing or not."

"Why, what day is it today? Your grandfather died today?"

Jongin pressed his lips in a thin line. "Yes, he did. Five years ago."

He sighed. He knew Jongin was doing it intentionally. "Yeah, okay. Whatever." He did not bother checking the name before he snapped open the player, but then snapped it close with a frown. "The Princess Bride?"

Jongin grinned, and then sniffled dramatically. "Last movie with my dear grandfather, Sehun. Last movie." He looked over at Sehun with mock interest. “How do you know what The Princess Bride is?”

“I have been forced to watch a few,” he explained, disinterestedly. “This is one of them.”

“Ah.”

Sehun looked over at him. “Wanna come here?” He patted the space next to him on the couch. Jongin grinned.

It was a pleasant time spent with Jongin. Pleasant enough that he did not need to drink anymore, and thus remained sober for the rest of the evening. He might have even said things (flirted) to Jongin that he would not in a right mind, however, Jongin was kind enough to not bring any of that the next morning. Oh, and by the way, the next day they woke up on the couch, tangled limbs by limbs in that constrained space, though still satiated by the sleep they had. Sehun did not remember when he fell asleep, or when Jongin did--but they both did somewhere after 1 in the morning. It was pleasant. Fine. He could have grinned ugly had Jongin not been there with him (but that would have killed the reason).

Jongin stared incredulously at him when he did not bother moving even when he regained full control of his mind and body. He awkwardly smiled, and looked down at the puppy-morning look of Jongin. His husband was adorable. Sehun could not help it. “You are,” Jongin began, scoffing, though there was no real heat behind it, “so not flirting with me, this early morning.”

“I am not,” he admitted gruffly. “I just need to get blood back in my legs, and then I can get up.”

“No need, I like it here.” Jongin closed his eyes, and shamelessly buried his face further in his chest. Sehun cleared his throat, flushed red by now. “You’re so--” Jongin began all of a sudden, groping along his chest and biceps--“thick. I like it.”

Sehun could not believe how shameless his husband was. Was this how he got the rumors going around the area: if Kim Jongin liked you, you could have a chance to bed him! It was undeniable that Jongin had slept with several men by now; with a mouth like that, and a beauty like his, it would be hard to believe that he had not. However, that train of thought was not helping him; the blood was rushing to the place where it should not. He cleared his throat, and made an effort to get up. Jongin did not allow him.

“Why are you moving?” He almost whined. “It’s Sunday! You can have a day off.”

“Ah, I don’t think--”

“Sehun, I am not allowing you to do dirty to me.” Jongin huffed, and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. Sehun stared back with flushed cheeks, and a maddeningly beating heart. “I just genuinely need someone with me after the of the months that have passed since--” he sighed, and adjusted in the free tiny space between Sehun and the back of the couch--“and I guess you need someone, too, after everything that has happened in the company.”

Sehun remained silent.

Jongin adjusted a little more, and accidentally kicked Sehun in his knee. Sehun pretended it did not hurt him. Jongin did not bother apologizing. It was a proven fact: Jongin was an Unapologetic Princess.

“Do you want to know what happened to me?”

“I don’t understand?”

“The wheelchair, Sehun. Do you want to know what exactly happened?”

Taken aback, he fumbled with his words. “I don’t--” where did the urge come from? Did Jongin trust him? Did he trust him enough to tell him about something so big? Was there an actual trust, or was Jongin just playing his moves right, checking if Sehun, his own husband, could be trusted with his truth or not? What exactly prompted this?--“if you want to, Jongin. I am not forcing you. I will never force you to tell me anything that you don’t want to.”

“First tell me,” Jongin began, along the hard muscles on Sehun’s chest with enough demureness that could drive any man crazy. Sehun swallowed. “Do you think differently of me now?”

“Different, how?”

“When we first met, you did not seem much fond of me. Nor even weeks later. So, tell me do you feel anything different about me?”

Even though it was not as serious as it sounded (or at least Sehun thought so), Sehun took his time replying to that. Did he feel any different about Jongin after all these months, after getting to know him a little more, and after all the time that they both spent together--happily or fighting? Yes. Definitely. There was no denying that. Was there adoration in his heart for his younger husband? Most probably yes. Did the prospect of seeing Jongin after a rough day at the company excite him? Yup.

Maybe he was there; tip-toeing on the thin gap that separated friends from lovers. Maybe he was there, after all, and was leaning more and more towards the latter as the time passed by. It was this sudden realisation that scared his heart enough that he got up, and with a hasty excuse to Jongin, left the hall and for his own bedroom. He could pretend as much as he wanted that he did not see the disappointment on Jongin’s face, but he knew he did see all that; and it stayed even when he closed his eyes for a much needed sleep.

When he woke up next and left his bedroom for the kitchen, Jongin was sitting on the couch, staring out of the window. His frame looked smaller, perhaps due to the slouching and the obvious tiredness radiating off him, and his face was flushed. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his nose was red. He had cried. It shocked him enough that he stumbled in his steps, his jumbled thoughts faltered, and his breathing quickened by the shame and humiliation, regret and longing that raced up through his veins to crawl up around his heart so that they all could squeeze his heart in a painful grip that if were real, would have left him gasping for oxygen.

“Jongin,” he called.

“Don’t.”

“Jongin, I-I… it was not because of--”

“I said, just don’t. You know I don’t give a about that, if you like me or not. This is gonna end in five years anyway, we can pretend to tolerate each other for that long. I am pretty sure we have the maturity of adults to do that.”

“Jongin,” he sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. “I am sorry. I did not mean--”

“You know what, Sehun,” Jongin scoffed, and turned to pass him a look. “This was not the first time, and certainly not the last. So, please don’t pretend--”

“I am not pretending,” he insisted, now desperate to prove something unknown to his young husband. “I just--I felt something that I was afraid of, and I ran away. Like a coward,” he admitted. “I am sorry. That was an move.”

“Oh, you’re an alright.” Jongin agreed, and turned around to look out of the window once again. “I hope you had a good sleep.”

“Jongin.”

“Help me pass the wheelchair, will you? I will appreciate that.”

“Jongin.”

“Please, Sehun. We can talk, later.”

***

The next day, Jongin was there with him at the office. He had not come with him, instead his mother had brought him along with her, stating that it would be better if Jongin were to be there at the company as well; they would both keep each other company, and they could work along as well. The first hour was awkward, with Jongin spending more and more time with his own team to plan tactics and collect necessary data, and with Sehun trying his damndest hard to not beg for his younger husband's attention. Second hour in, and Jongin was still dutifully ignoring his existence, it got on his nerves. He was pressed, and pissed off. Like the mature man that he was, he glared at each of the team members until they left in awkward silences. Jongin rolled his eyes at him.

“Why are you doing this? It doesn’t look good.”

“I just want to talk to you.”

“Alright, here is what my team and I came up with: the marketing team is already working on--”

“I am not talking about that. I have been here, and I heard everything.”

“That’s great then.” Jongin rolled his eyes. “Should I leave now?”

“Jongin, I just want to talk about yesterday. What I did--was not right by any behavior. I just want you to know that.”

“You already said that to me, Sehun.” Jongin leaned against the cushiony seats of the office couch. He closed his eyes. “You remember you asked me on the first day if I had physical therapy?"

"Yes, and you answered that it was of no use anymore." He blinked, unsure where Jongin was trying to take this conversation to.

"Yes. So, see here is what happened. I… got into an accident, did some nasty to my feet, and broke a few veins, had internal bleeding. Nerves stopped working for some time, and then they did. Partially. See, here is what we needed to do: my family should have taken me for surgery right away. But, I was a child, and in the circumstances I had to live at that time, it never occurred to me that I could ever be cured of that.

"Time passed, wounds of course did not heal; neither the physical, nor the emotional and mental. It got worse, and however much I used to walk after the accident stopped altogether. In the following year, they did give me some physical therapy, but it was of no use. Damage had been done, and it couldn’t be undone anymore.” Jongin paid to look at him. “I was devastated, Sehun. More because I realized my family didn’t care about me at all, and they passed all that without breaking a sweat. When they told me about it, they sounded apologetic, but the apologies were not serious, Sehun. They were relieved that in some or other way, I would finally stay behind Heechul. They were glad that it happened to me, however horrible, and nightmarish it was.

“They never had the nightmares that I had, still have some times, and that stopped them from understanding me at all.” He looked down, and suddenly looked small. “When yesterday, I asked if you liked me, if your opinions of me had changed, I had hoped that you’d give me a different answer than my own family did. I have been through a lot, Sehun, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping for new people. Pathetic, I know. Shoot me.” He scoffed. “You are new in my life, and you are my husband--for at least five years. We have to live together for five years.”

He looked pained saying all that, as if he was not used to a proper heart-to-heart unlike Sehun. Which was, truthfully speaking, unsurprising; Jongin looked like someone who’d rather keep everything in himself than show it to the world. He was not pathetic, he was just alone, and vulnerable. And, yes, no one had won that trust that he sure was willing to give at the first chance. Which was, slightly, understandable; Sehun was not a man who kept things to himself, he had people with whom he could share his worries, problems, joy, and sorrows with (his parents, but okay), and he never had to worry once in his life to keep anything to himself. Jongin, on the other hand, was left alone, discarded, and put in a corner by his own family, so how could he expect something better from anyone else, much less a stranger? Sehun was, as much as it hurt Sehun to admit, still mostly a stranger to him. They were close, but not as close as he’d like them to be now at this stage.

Months had passed, and they still had to take that step that would cement the future of their (hopefully a loving) relationship.

Jongin sniffed, and closed his eyes, and then gracefully shook his head. His eyes were still closed when he inclined his head in Sehun’s direction, and looked painfully beautiful. Not for the first time, Sehun wanted to hold him in his arms; was it the humanity that often roared in actual humans, or was it the bubbling sense of the most vulnerable emotion in the world, Sehun did not know. He just knew Jongin was in his pain, and he wanted to be held. Sehun wanted to hold him.

“I don’t want to hurt you Sehun, and I don’t expect anything kind from you as well, but just--” he stopped, and never continued it. A call came, and he picked it up with trembling hands. “It’s, ah, my brother.”

“Your brother is an .”

Jongin did not look up, and picked up his phone. “Yes, he is. I want to ruin him.” When he looked over at Sehun for a slight moment, his eyes were blazing red in anger, and such kind of vulnerability that promised violence to the people standing on the other side of it. Which was, in this case, his family.

As he watched Jongin talking to his brother on the phone, he wondered what Jongin’s sudden talk was all about, or did it imply something to him? Was there anything at all in the first place for Sehun to find? Or did Jongin say all that because he wanted to answer a question that had been unanswered until then? Did he think Sehun deserved to know it? Or that he himself deserved to let it all out, one at a time? Out of all the possible scenarios, Sehun hoped that it was the last.

He tried to focus on his papers, but it was hard when his mind was muddled with running thoughts of how cruel Jongin’s family was to one of their own. They never brought him to the doctor, never looked for all the possible solutions to something that left Jongin strapped to a wheelchair. However, even though it was just this knowledge that he wanted to attain, Sehun could not help but wonder what the accident was that Jongin wouldn’t tell him. Why did he hesitate when he brought the relation of his current condition and the accident itself? Was there something bigger and more devastating than Jongin was letting on? What was he actually hiding?

Curious, he opened his laptop and started browsing through everything that there was about the fateful accident--which was not much. All the articles said was about the result of the accident itself, its result for the youngest member of the Kim family, and some ‘exclusive’ pictures of a teenager Jongin, unconscious mostly with doses of anesthesia to keep the pain at bay; small and lost to a materialistic and hungry world. The anger that bubbled up in his veins at that was sudden and surprising, but Sehun knew he could justify it if someone asked for one. He swallowed the bile stuck in his throat at the pathetic statements given by Jongin’s parents; how did anyone let them get away with those words Sehun would not understand. There was, however, nothing at all about what Sehun wanted to find about. Sometimes the accident was curiously mentioned (‘curious yet mysterious accident leaves the youngest Kim almost comatose’), but there was nothing but a series of speculations. Alleged conspiracy theories, but nothing else.

When he looked up for a glance at Jongin, Jongin was curiously staring back at him. “What are you doing?”

“Um, nothing?”

Jongin stared at him for some long moment before going back to his call. His face was flushed red, and he seemed upset with whatever was being said on the other end. If Sehun was right, he knew Heechul would be talking in his condescending tone, a lit of mockery in his words to press Jongin further and further into anxiousness, a sea of doubts, and stress. Heechul annoyed, and irritated him like no other man on this planet. When Jongin seemed further distressed, he got up from the chair, and stepped in front of Jongin. He silently gestured at the phone. Jongin, reasonably, seemed confused. He huffed, rolled his eyes, and snatched the phone from Jongin’ hand.

“Hey!” Jongin complained, but he did not do anything to take his phone back.

Sehun ignored him anyway. He listened a minute to what Heechul was saying--some filthy threat of some kind at Jongin--before he started, in rather a grave voice. "Heechul, I'd like it a lot if you talk to my husband with respect."

Nothing for a moment. Then, an annoying laugh; it was mocking, but tried very hard to hide behind a politeness that Heechul was not capable of having. "Oh, he gave you the phone I see now." He snickered. "I was talking to him, Sehun, my brother. Not you. Give him the damn phone."

"I won't," he replied calmly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I said I won't give Jongin the phone unless you learn how to talk to him."

"The is your problem! He's my brother. I can talk to him whatever the way I want to! Give him the phone!"

Heechul was loud, there was no way Jongin was not listening to everything. He, though, whistled behind Sehun, eyes up ahead at the ceiling. "He's my husband," he cleared, "reminding you in case you forgot that."

"Sehun, you don't want to do this. Don't try to come between him and I."

"I am not. I am hanging up." He did so without a second warning. He sat beside Jongin on the couch. “Your brother is a rude .”

“It was y and all, what you did--but don’t do it again.” The phone rang again, Heechul was calling, but neither picked it up.

Flush immediately red with shame, he looked down at his young husband. “I, uh, don’t understand?”

“You don’t have to, Sehun.” Jongin smiled, patronizingly sweet. “He’s my brother, and that should be enough for you to know how to talk to him.”

“But he--”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jongin replied coolly, his voice cracked though. Sehun noticed. “It doesn’t matter how he talks to me, or what he does to me--nothing does. Just don’t talk to him like that. He’s older than you.”

“He’s an that’s what he is.” He clenched his jaw. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he talks to you. No older brother does that.” When Jongin remained silent, he continued, “are you sure he is not thinking filthy of you?”

“Sehun,” Jongin gasped, seriously offended, “did you even think twice before saying that?”

Sehun swallowed, a little shamed. But--but he had noticed Heechul long enough to know that even though Jongin was his younger brother, his intentions were not, well, pure. He was a leecher. “I am sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

No, I am not. He wanted to confess. “The whole world talks about it, Jongin. I am not the only one.”

“To hell with what the whole world thinks, Sehun. I have known my brother for my whole life, and I have never felt unsafe with him around me.”

There it was. He swallowed. “You have never felt safe around him either.”

Jongin seemed shocked to hear the words, but he said nothing about it. “Where is that even coming from?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged childishly, “maybe after reading reports after reports of his alleged presence during the accident, and his various confessions and statements about his little brother. Don’t think I don’t notice, Jongin.”

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I know you do."

Jongin looked over his shoulder and at Sehun's work table. "Is that what you were doing there--reading everything about me? Whatever there is on the internet?"

He swallowed. "I am sorry, but I am curious, Jongin. I am curious about it, I want to know what happened. I want to know what the accident was. I want to know everything that there is to know about it."

"Why do you even want to know anything?"

"Because I am your husband, and I deserve to know."

"And, I am not ready to talk about it! How about that? Are you going to force me to talk about it?" He taunted, and hissed at his face. "Is that what you want?"

"No," he replied, and stood up from the couch. "I don't until you tell me yourself. I will not ask for it again, Jongin. I will wait for you to tell me everything." He looked down at his watch. "I will ask my manager to have someone drop you at home. I will come home late tonight."

"Sehun," Jongin said, slightly curious.

“Jongin,” he said, “I hate your brother, I do. I know what’s to come will only make me hate him more and more. I don’t need much to justify my dislike of him.” He grabbed his jacket. “I have a meeting with the Board of Directors. Take care.”

“Will you be present for dinner?”

“I said I will come late tonight--”

“And, I wanna kiss you.”

Sehun stopped, he swore he did. He flushed under the careful scrutiny of Jongin fixed on him as if he did not want to miss anything; any kind of expression on his face that might give away whatever he felt by the words. He, however, put out a carefully blank face when he looked over at Jongin. His flush though, perhaps, gave it away. “What?” He asked, rather feebly, like a dying man who hoped to quench the thirst he was cursed with.

“I said, I will cook today!” He exclaimed, rather obnoxiously, eyes holding the mirth that Sehun knew he felt. “I said, I will cook dinner tonight.”

“H-how?”

“I will take offense to that, Sehun.” He huffed, cheeks puffed out adorably. Sehun had no idea how he would ever get angry at him, if, in future if they have a fight--because, Jongin was adorable, and there was nothing in Sehun that could resist that. “I will cook dinner tonight, by helping you with it.”

“I cannot do that, and you know it.” He sighed. “I have work.”

“Right now you’re just trying to get away.” Jongin complained which was, okay, true in some way or another.

“I am not,” he insisted. “I am, uh, really busy today.” Nothing was as important as the meeting with the Board Directors, which too would finish within the next two hours--everything else could be moved for tomorrow. But, Jongin did not need to know that. Sehun had no idea what else he would say if he were to stay in Jongin’s presence for the rest of the day. He could make it better by tomorrow, could Jongin not wait until then?

Clearly, he couldn’t, and he made it known by showing Sehun a disappointed face. As much as Sehun did not want to understand Jongin at this point, he knew the younger man probably got lonely at home. Plus, Sehun had said some things that Jongin probably did not want to think about alone. Perhaps, he wanted to talk about something? Perhaps he would speak something about the accident itself. Perhaps he wanted to talk about it, or Heechul even, with someone? Perhaps he wanted to open up to him, but he was scared, and so was taking every measured step as slowly as possible.

Perhaps Sehun could be his one true friend, and thus that would pave the way for their (hopefully inevitable) romance.

He swallowed, feeling like he was caught in a dilemma. Jongin had him where he wanted him to be. He sighed, and avoided looking into Jongin's eyes. "Jongin," he said carefully.

"Are you really busy?"

He sighed. "No, I am not."

"Cool. I expect to see you at home at time, so that we could cook together. You okay with that?"

Sehun had no option but to give an affirmation at this point. "Yeah, sure."

Jongin smiled, pleased.

That was the most satisfying a sight to see, Sehun realised though only much later.

***

Cooking with Jongin was not easy; it seemed harder than to run an almost sunken company, and Sehun liked that. For most part, at least. Jongin was an annoying cook, and he didn't like one bit to be told what to do and what not, and that too when he did not know much about cooking. He, though, was proud of whatever he knew; which, of course, was not much. However, Sehun could no more be petty to him, and refrained from saying anything that could potentially hurt his young husband's sentiments.

Jongin was up to another storytelling.

"The first time that I remember stepping foot inside the kitchen was when I was 8. That was also the last time that I ever did. Until tonight, of course."

"Why?" He asked curiously, and rolled his eyes when Jongin questioned about the omelette again. Jongin could not be taught immediately the ways of cooking.

"My father," he answered easily, and stayed silent for two whole minutes before finally starting again with a sigh, "my father thought that was very unbecoming of me to spend my time even a minute in the kitchen. I was the son of a millionaire, and it would bring shame to the family if I, as a child who had no knowledge of anything, would help a mere cook."

"That, uh," he said and stopped.

"I know. That too when you take into account that the cook grew the closest to me than anyone else on this planet. My family lost me sometime I turned 10, and after that--I was a mere stranger in my own family." He sighed, but he didn't look much pained; it was like he had told himself the same thing so many times that the old memories and his family relationships did not matter.

"Is it done? It took too much of my energy."

"This is only omelette, Jongin. It doesn't take much of anyone's time."

"Yeah, stop sassing me, maybe." Jongin stopped, and kept looking over at him while he finished through the rest of it. He flushed under the heavy weight of his gaze, but remained stoic and calm from the outside.

Finally, when Jongin spoke next, his voice was a tad bit breathy. It was… distracting. "Do you ever think about kissing me?"

Alright. Alright. He huffed, a breath was stuck somewhere in his chest. "I genuinely need to question why that question arose."

"Maybe, because, I do. Think about kissing you a lot, and I was wondering if you feel the same way or not." His voice was soft, but held no lie. Sehun knew that. He swallowed. Jongin did not seem a bit bothered by his confession, if anything, he seemed relieved that he had the truth out on the table.

"I don't know," he answered; the fingers that held the spatula with confidence once now shook with unbidden, barely restrained desire. He noticed only now: the ness of Jongin's legs, the glowing skin that teased Sehun in what seemed as a game of cat and mouse. Jongin's eyes that sparked like the star itself under the lighting of the kitchen, his mouth. Sehun noticed everything only now, and--and it hit him with enough force that he staggered a little in his thought process. "I don't know," he repeated lamely.

Jongin gently placed his head back against the wall, his eyes fixed into Sehun's. "You are a liar. I hope you know that."

Sehun swallowed, and shook his head. He busied himself with the omelette. "Don't know what you are talkin' 'bout."

"You wanna know what happened that night? About the accident, do you want to know about it? If I tell you about it, would you kiss me?"

"Your past, your accident is not something you can trade with anything, Jongin. Show yourself some respect." He turned off the stove. "I don't want you to tell me anything for a kiss," he continued, voice stern, "I hope you have not used your kiss and your body for something stupid." He cringed at the rudeness of his tone, and the implication of the words. He worried that Jongin might take offense.

Jongin grinned, appreciatively.

So, he did not. Sehun cleared his throat, and grabbed two plates for both of them from the shelf. "Let's go, and eat. It's late, you have to get your medicines too."

"Are you not curious about the accident?"

"I am, Jongin. I want to know what left you like, like this. However, it's not my place to demand any answer. You can give me one when you're ready."

"Who told you I am not ready?"

He sighed. "Your eyes did."

Jongin jerked back in surprise.

"It's not hard to read your eyes, Jongin. Jesus, have you ever given them a proper time of your day?--they're, they speak so much, Jongin. Those eyes of yours. They tell me stories that your mouth doesn't. And, they tell me you are not ready, yet." He sighed. "Let's go, and eat dinner, okay? No need to get stressed."

He grabbed the plates before he left the kitchen. He came back for Jongin, held him in his arms and brought him to the dining table. "I didn't know you would choose to cook omelette with me than anything else."

Jongin remained silent, and remained so for most part of the dinner. When Sehun was on his last bite, he spoke in tone that of a demanding baby. "Sleep with me tonight?"

Sehun choked on his food, like that day. He, when he gained a little control over his coughs, exclaimed, in a complaining tone that he needed a warning from Jongin every single time he was about to say something of that kind. That, too, shouldn't happen when they were eating because Jesus, Jongin.

Jongin rolled his eyes. "Sleep with me doesn't mean do me silly, ert. I asked you to sleep with me--sleep next to me. I get nightmares."

"You get nightmares?"

"Yeah." He poked through his food. “When I talk about it,” he explained, vaguely, “then they come. Almost feel real, as if I am living through everything all over again. Would have been better had they been a dream about something else, even if it were a nightmare of a moment less unpleasant.” He sighed, and swallowed, and for the first time seemed nervous, and scared. “Do you wanna hear it? What happened that day?”

Sehun swallowed. “If--if it’s because of--”

“Sehun--” Jongin rolled his eyes--“I have not done that ever, and I am not planning to do that ever.” He huffed, and looked over at him and in his eyes. “I want to talk about it with someone. I-have never talked about it with anyone.”

They settled in Sehun’s bedroom somewhere around 12 in the night; the delay of a few hours was intentional. Jongin needed to get his bearings before the conversation that did something so horrible to him, and perhaps he would answer the curious questions that Sehun often wanted to ask him. The realisation that Jongin would never walk again, and that he tried and his family denied to help him through it; and the mere thought that his family could have done that intentionally almost angered Sehun. How could parents be cruel to their own son so much? How could they love one child more than the other? But, perhaps that was it. Perhaps even when the parents denied loving a child more than the other or a child less than the other, they did not themselves know that they were wrong. Perhaps the amount of love and dislike changed overtime, often so slow that even the person harbouring them would not have known.

He was his parents' only child, and was born seven years after their marriage when they seemed hopeless that they could ever have a child. He was important to them, and for him their love was never divided or came short of anything perfect in the world. He could never understand the basis of the absence of love from Jongin’s family for Jongin. He could try, but he knew not everyone was lucky with familial love. Jongin was just another name in the list of millions of them.

He was just special, to Sehun at least; and was taking step after step into Sehun’s mind and heart with every passing hour of the passing days. Something in Sehun told him that they would only perhaps grow closer after the inevitable conversation.

“It was raining that day,” Jongin began, settled against the headboard, snugly wrapped around the most comfortable blankets that they had at home because it was raining the moment, too. He seemed to be avoiding Sehun’s eyes, but he spoke with firmness anyway. He perhaps had the same conversation in his mind a hundred times already.

See, Sehun understood that some things were harder to talk about; and thus the person bearing the heavy weight of those emotions, stories, and feelings shared them with themselves rather than with anyone else who could not understand the gravity of them. There was something special about sharing the feelings with oneself; what others could not understand, one could, and that was fine--for at least a while before it got out of control, and thus ruined whatever control one had of oneself. Jongin held onto those dearly; he was afraid that if it was out for the world to see, they would, the worst of all, not understand why it was so important to him.

“It was raining that day, and my family held a party of elites as well. It was grand, you know, everything that you see in movies and shows--it was about our reputation, the Kim’s family. Nothing could ruin it, nothing should ruin it. That was the plan. See, I told you, right, that my brother is not exactly the finest breed of man? I guess I have, and he's always been, in simple words, a womanizer, and apparently he made different bets when he was drunk. Bets that had me at the center. I was mostly uninformed about it, of course.

“That night, drunk that he was, he made a bet about me too, with one of his friends whose name shall never be taken in front of me. He lost. His friend won. What do you think would have happened?” Jongin placed the vague question in front of him. He still did not look at Sehun, though.

There was a feeling felt, Sehun knew it was somewhere in his heart--the answer to this question. However, it was too tragic an answer, and too nightmarish that he kept it to himself. He gave an unsatisfactory answer in return. “I don’t know. I am not creative like that.” He swallowed.

Jongin sounded disappointed when he spoke next, as if he wanted one thing from Sehun, and that too he could not fulfill. What he wanted? Sehun could only guess: he wanted Sehun to join the points so that he did not need to tell the truth himself. It was an awfully curious situation, and appallingly held Sehun up with a thin threat of patience. “It was my nightmare, Sehun. It’s still my nightmare. I have to live with it for all days.”

Sehun knew, a part of him did know where it was going. However, he wanted to hear it from Jongin's mouth, and wanted the young man himself to confirm what Sehun could only hope was not true. He swallowed. "What happened?" He asked softly.

"What happened? You know what happened!" Jongin snapped, his eyes inattentive, but voice watery. "You know what happened."

"No, I don't."

"Can't you guess, Sehun? Why do you want me to say it?"

"I genuinely don't know what happened. I want you to tell me, because I don't."

Jongin heavily on his bottom lip, his eyes now on Sehun's figure. Sehun avoided his gaze now. He was ashamed to admit that he knew what Jongin was talking about, and more ashamed to know that his younger husband had been through something so horrible--something that he could not draw him out of. Something that might have carved out the current Jongin.

"Sehun," Jongin said. "I have never said it to anyone. Me saying anything about that night makes everything real, me saying anything just confirms it to me: what happened was real, and not just something that I picked out of a novel, and attached to my own story."

"You not saying anything won't change the truth, Jongin. What happened has happened." He sounded cruel to his own ears, and if Jongin were to slap or punch him for his outright rudeness, he would not fight back. He would stand his ground, and would take as many beatings as Jongin would give him.

Jongin audibly swallowed.

"Until you let it out to someone, it won't ever come out. You can't live with a… trauma for your whole life, Jongin."

Jongin remained silent. He stayed silent to the next hour. Sehun, however, considered himself a patient man, and remained just as silent and still as his husband. Past half an hour after one, Jongin spoke, eyes down on his hands that held each other together for a warmth that he probably needed most then, and the warmth that was certainly denied to him by his own family.

"You were right when you said my brother perhaps thinks filthy of me. It wasn't so until I started filling out my form, and regained some health. I was shier back then, my hair was longer, and I was almost like your typical teenage girl. Except, of course, I was not a girl even though I looked and behaved like one. My brother, he… liked that thing about me." He on his bottom lip, again. In the silence, Sehun's heartbeat grew louder. "Every single time mom would ask me to get a haircut, he would ask her not to do it. I rarely got haircuts.

"My brother was not the only one who liked that about me. His friends did, too. They were, and they still are not good people, Sehun. When I asked you to not go along the deals with Choi's, it was because he is one of my brother's friends, and he's not one of the brightest around.

"If you look at my childhood photos, you will see that I was almost… doll-like. My appearance was soft, and unlike now--" Sehun wanted to say that going along with the description, nothing about Jongin's beauty had changed. Jongin still looked doll-like, and still seemed soft--"the bets were usually about me. They just needed a reason to touch me." He sounded hesitant now, his voice smaller. Sehun looked ahead at the wall instead of at Jongin. He did not think he could bear to look at him at this moment, when they were so close to the truth; the truth that was so obvious, and needed no saying, but Jongin wanted to come close to say it, and Sehun wanted to hear it.

"It was not serious back then. I mean, if you tell the cops about it, they'd probably flip right at this moment, but it's in the past."

Nothing was in the past. If it still pained one, and if the guilty was still out living their life, then it was not in the past. It was a part of the present that needed complete attention, so that the damage done could be undone slightly.

"That night, too, they had a bet about me. Except, this time they were drunk. I was tipsy, too. I had stolen some good alcohol from my father's personal bar. I was not in my right state of mind. In fact, I don't have recollection of some minutes in between it all. Anyway. The bet was made, my brother lost--and he was pouty about it. Pouty!

"Do you want to know what they bet? They bet me. No, actually, my brother bet me. Did they provoke him to do that? I don't know. I have no idea. But I was sold out to the winner, and then that happened what always happened to a sore loser."

Sehun knew what had happened, bit hearing that Jongin had been molested by his own brother's friend was--it was a tragedy. Wondering and being right about something were two different things.

"The thing that hurt me the most was that my family knew, Sehun. They knew, yet they did not do anything. They said I was drunk, and was probably lying to get away with the ultimate truth; the truth that they were so insistent on was, in their point of view, that I willingly slept with that friend, and now was afraid to admit the truth to my parents.

"I was bleeding between my legs, Sehun." He sobbed. "My feet, they were a mess. Everything was broken, and yet they did not do anything to help me out of it. They created their own stories, and told so to the people who needed explanation. To the media, nothing but me being hospitalized was told. They knew, Sehun. They know."

There always came a point in life where the brain needed to take the first step in, to relieve the devastation that the holder felt. Was Sehun in pain? He did not know? Was he surprised? He did not know. Did he feel what he thought he would feel when he would hear the truth? No, definitely not.

What he felt, though, was that he wanted to get away from there. Jongin was crying, probably thinking about everything that he remembered of that night, but Sehun could not hear the torture in his cries. So, he stood up, and left for the balcony. Jongin whimpered slightly at his sudden absence, but smothered the pain of betrayal with both hands.

What would any normal person do when in a situation such as theirs? Would they go and hug the pained person to their chest, or hold them in their arms until the cries stopped, and though the pain remained it did not feel lonely anymore? What should he do, he asked himself, as he stood silently under the rain. Should he go and tell Jongin that everything was in the past, and that nothing could hurt him? Would that suffice? Would that be enough?

But, wasn't that a lie? He himself told himself that nothing was of the past if it still hurt, so how could he tell the same old words to Jongin? The words that would do nothing to lessen the pain that his younger husband was in?

He stepped further into the rain, and grabbed harder at the railing. Jongin's cries were barely audible from here, but it was as if he could transcend the pain through the oxygen that Sehun took, because everything that Sehun felt now was tenfold than what he did just seconds earlier. He swallowed, and then wondered if it would help if he started crying too.

No, that would not do. However, tears of pain listened to no one, and soon he cried, too. He knew his cries could not be heard by Jongin, so he cried and wailed like a little baby. It was not right that Jongin had to go through all that at such an age; it was not right that he understood people at an age where one needed to worry about nothing but what they would learn next; it was not fair that his innocence had given him that, and it certainly was not fair to him that his family turned out to be a bunch of rascals.

He gasped, the cold now finally seeped into his veins. What could he do? What could he do? What could he do instead of being useless, crying here when Jongin needed him there? What could he do to make Jongin forget this conversation ever happened, if only for a while?

He looked down at his hands; rough and calloused, big and huge after years of abuse they worked through at the office, and in his life. They were huge, huge enough to hold Jongin and his pain through the rest of their lives. Could he not take all the pain, and suffering from Jongin, and capture them between his fists so that Jongin would not need to think about it another second? Was that possible?

What exactly was he talking about, anyway? Anything was possible until the heart loved dearly, and Sehun's heart loved and adored Jongin like he needed saving, and Jongin was his only saving grace. It might be the opposite for Jongin, but Sehun knew if someone could help them both, it was them.

With a determination that would make him laugh later in the day, tomorrow, he walked back into the bedroom. Jongin was still crying, but his voice was merely a whimper. He did not look at Sehun. Sehun quickly changed out of his wet clothes so that when he touched Jongin, he would not get him sick. Dressed in merely trousers, he walked up to Jongin, steps heavy but still slightly unsure.

"Jongin," he called softly, and when he turned to look at him at the call of his name, Sehun slapped his mouth onto Jongin's. This, he knew, would turn the events into something much more warmer when they would first step into the season of cold. Winter this time around could be a little more bearable.