i hate this chapter so much. yikes. xD

anyway, there’s an ongoing top!sehun fest and if you’re interested in any way in participating in it (whether as a writer/ artist/ reader), you’re welcome. or you can just leave a prompt there, it’s prompting period and it will end soon. here’s the link to it. send your wildest thoughts to it, whatever ship fits you!

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Chapter three: winter

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The winter came slow but steady, and creeped up behind him like a silent moaner of pain, and suffering; a silent killer perhaps, though white in colour it was the time of loneliness and sadness; perpetual, unending, and unnervingly cold in its nature. There was something about the cold that Jongin admired in his silence, and something that he hated like his life depended upon the hatred itself. Perhaps he had come to like it because it represented himself in some ways; lost in the noise of the world, and alone in the crowd of people. Perhaps there was also something in it that he hated because it represented a part of his life that he wanted to wipe the existence of; jealousy, suffering, and reminders of the lonely life that he led with the fake smile that was as natural as the blinking of his eyes. There it was: Jongin had a relationship of love-hate with winter. Jongin could not justify his opinion; for his reasons of liking and hating the season were all contradictory.

However, the feeling of jealousy only intensified this year; why, he knew; how, he did not know; was it necessary, he could not bother with that one; and was it justifiable, absolutely. This intensified jealousy and the sense of being incomplete filled his senses only this winter, and the reason for it all was someone he had sworn not to feel anything for. Who? Of course, Oh Sehun. The company only took a flight when Jongin’s recommendations were accepted, and followed religiously; although Jongin knew there was a lot to come in, he also knew that this amount of success that they all were seeing was one of its first sights and feelings in the company. For the first time since he had been used to hearing the name of the Oh’s company, this was the only time that he felt positive that it was not a lost cause; that there was still needed to be done a lot, and could be done a lot. However, the result of it--did not amuse Jongin very much. He was a man of elegance, and high expectations and the... puny success meant only a little to him.

What did not amuse him at all was his dear husband’s closeness with his secretary at the evening of the celebrated party that the Board of Directors held. Only now Jongin noticed her; she was a pretty redhead, tall and imposing, but still softly feminine in ways that were not possible for Jongin. Years of sitting on the wheelchair had left him soft and delicate, sure, but he could not compete with what she was; healthy, and with lean muscles that Jongin could only dream to have in a situation like his. She was attractive, and even though he was not even marginally into women, he knew what was attractive in a woman and what was not. Whatever she represented was attractive. He was not attracted to her, but Sehun seemed like he was--

and it all gravelly pissed him off.

He rolled his wheelchair to the other corner of the hall, with help of a staff here and there, and sat there in the dim lighting; it was the only silent spot in the entire hall of the busy party, only slightly, but it gave him enough time to think about his situation, his limitations, and what it all took from him and could take from him. Jongin had never felt invalid in his skin, either in crowd or in biting loneliness, had given himself prep talks of being better than many even in a situation like his; however, at this point of his life, he wondered if he had taken self-love to a rather extreme level. Because it was at this point of his life, in this winter, that he realized he was afraid to lose someone for the first time in his life. What was between them did not have a name, but he knew it was special; it had been special ever since that night and to this day and, hopefully, even to the future. Sehun had a significant place in his life, and Jongin was afraid if he fell for someone other than him, he would have to live with another set of hollowness in his little wheelchair bound world. Jongin could not bear to handle that; it was so unbearable, the thought of wanting someone and knowing that there was nothing special in him to keep that someone to himself, that it brought tears to his eyes, and a flush of shame and embarrassment at being so weak to the matters of the heart. Jongin did not consider himself weak, but every day spent with Sehun showed him that he was the feeblest of all, and perhaps had been for his whole life.

Sehun found him only ten minutes later, drunk almost. “Jongin,” he cried, bright eyed and shiny mouthed. “I have been looking for you for so long. Why are you here?”

He pressed his lips in a thin line, and looked away from Sehun’s unfairly attractive face. “I have been busy.”

“Busy in what, staring at the wall?” Sehun mocked, though there was no bite in his words. Sehun crouched in front of him, reeking of women's perfume. Jongin cringed away from the smell of it. He took Jongin’s hand in his own, his hold unbearably soft though he looked drunk of his mind. “This evening, this is all because of you,” he began softly, and clenched his hand tighter around Jongin’s fingers. “You are supposed to be at the center of it all, not sitting here in the corner. Everyone there wants to thank you--don’t you feel them looking at you all the time?--for we have never been to this stage in our business, ever. You have come to rescue us, they told me, and I thought, yes, he has.”

Jongin’s heart bloomed in bright colours at the sheer vulnerability and sincerity in his tone.

“Will you not come and meet them? Just tell them once they did good, and we can--we can go back home, because I can clearly see you are tired.” He brought his hand to Jongin's cheek. "Are you not tired of all the niceties? Because, I am."

He pressed his lips in a thin line, but agreed to accompany him anyway.

When did it happen? When did they grow so soft for each other; when did Sehun grow so soft that he talked so nicely, and cared so adoringly of Jongin. Jongin could pinpoint the exact day, and the exact time that they took that long step ahead, and became what they were now.

It was, most definitely, the confession night.

When he had come back from the balcony, Sehun had made a point of showing him what he was capable of when he desired to, and what a force of nature he was on the bed. What happened between them was not planned, nor was it expected; but it happened naturally anyway; well, as naturally as between two individuals could be. Knowing that it was the point, and perhaps that was the conversation needed to take the further step was not a possibility; what happened was supposed to happen at a time determined earlier by someone of higher power. Sehun and Jongin had no part to play in it, but of the actors.

The burning touch of Sehun's rough fingertips, and his huge hands were still on his head, and it still felt as if they were caressing every inch of skin that they could reach; the fluttering eyes, the heavy breaths, Jongin remembered all. He did not think he was capable of forgetting anything that happened that night; they were so important to be remembered, the details, that Jongin often than not thought about them when sleep would not come even at late nights, and he would desire the touch of assurity, confidence, and almost-almost love. Sehun was exactly what his past lovers were not; the things that he considered desirable in the past almost repelled him now. What had he been, and what was he now? Was it possible for him to give a proper difference? Jongin did not know. What he knew, however, was that he was admiring every minute spent with Sehun.

The next day, they decided to stay at home; Sehun, because he was dealing with the brutal pain of hangover and Jongin, because, well, he’d rather stay at home than be at the office on a day like this; on a day when Sehun would appreciate his presence, and perhaps they could have a talk about Sehun’s budding closeness with his secretary. If it were to Jongin, Sehun was in for a long debate. Hours later, in the afternoon, when Sehun was conscious enough from the bounds of alcohol, he made him some coffee, and helped him unwound on the living room couch--by forcing him to watch his favorite cartoon since childhood. Jongin took special delight in knowing that it was only torturing Sehun.

“Why do I always have to watch this nonsense after every hangover?”

“You tell me,” he answered, and shrugged, eyes trained ahead at the screen.

Sehun swallowed his piping hot coffee; Jongin cringed, not knowing how to react to something like that. "You know this already, but I was really, really happy yesterday." He turned to Jongin fully, now completely in control of what he was, and how he was. That was a good look on him; cocky, and confident; something that Jongin realised he lacked in the safe cacoon of his bedroom. "I really enjoyed the evening, Jongin."

"Yeah, you definitely did." He mocked, and rolled his eyes, remembering back to the closeness between Sehun and the woman with distaste.

"Is that supposed to imply something?" Sehun asked, confused. When Jongin remained silent, he continued, "you looked stunning," he swallowed; "probably the best one there. I mean, if there were a competition for best dressed, you'd come the first, without any kind of competition." Jongin blushed under the weight of his praise. "The stylist told me it was all your choice."

"Yeah, it was," he answered, a little pouty in his tone.

"It was amazing. You sure you don't want to be the model of the company?" His voice turned serious, and there was a tone to it; the one that barely restrained itself from sounding hopeful, and stern in its approach. "I mean, there's a way you handle yourself, Jongin, and a lot of people already admire you for it. Wouldn't it be a great break for you, too? You would know."

When Jongin was handling his own company--that was not his anymore--he was the face of the company; the CEO; the one who guided, and transformed the entirety of the small company into something so big and glamorous. But, he was not the model. He had the face of one, but his parents thought with a situation like his, it was highly unlikely that Jongin would not repel their potential customers and investors away; and if his image did attract anyone, that would be out of pity. Jongin could never understand the point made there; for he was still in the wheelchair when he guided the company, and it was working as fine as any business could; bigger and large-scale international businesses were interested in buying theirs; investors were ready; the company was doing all good, all while he was stuck on those wheels.

Jongin had never considered himself a model worthy face; sure he was confident about his looks, knew everything about himself from the inside out, but the thought of being the face of a company last time occurred to him only for sometime after the accident; after that, he barely felt the need to even try. Now, though, it was so very near that it almost sounded tempting to be reckless for once and agree to the offered proposal; what could possibly go wrong anyway? Sehun wanted it, the company wanted it; everyone important and unimportant was onboard with the idea. What could possibly go wrong? The answer was nothing, and perhaps that was what Jongin was scared of. Not of what might it feel like if he failed, or if his face did not do the magic that all of them expected, but what would happen, what he would do, if it went successful; what if things worked? What would he do then? What would come next?

Jongin was bereft of answers for those questions; he was not afraid of trying, he was just afraid of everything working out.

“We can--we can do a trial, if you want,” Sehun was saying, “just a random photoshoot to see how things are going, with you as our model, and if you like it all--we all are already onboard with it anyway.” Sehun was nervous, Jongin knew, and he understood some aspects of it, too.

Sehun did not want to cross all the boundaries at the same time; though, they had crossed one that night, and all the other times that followed it, it was undeniable that there were some restraints between them that just a few months would never break. They needed time. They had time.

He swallowed, and pressed his lips in a thin line as his hands held each other on his lap. "I don't know," he answered, uncertainly. With Sehun, Jongin was often encountering uncertainty; it was mostly a good feeling. "I don't know."

"How about," Sehun began all of a sudden, "we try tomorrow? A week later? A month? We can wait."

A week later, they found themselves in the private studio of the company; it was wide, spacious, and almost a world of its own. There was barely to be added anything there, except the flowers that were asked for, and Jongin. The photographer, of course Lucas, was bubbling with excitement long before they even agreed upon what was to be done; and his attention was trained solely on Jongin. Though Jongin admired the attention, and perhaps even lit up more under the admiring weight of the photographer’s gaze, his attention was fixed on Sehun instead; dressed in a silk suit, face adorned with makeup and messy hair, he looked fine. Fine in a sense Jongin could neither comprehend nor explain.; the level of attractiveness had increased dramatically, and Jongin really wanted to go home. Sehun also had this air about himself, something so crazy and controlled, calm, cool, and collected that Jongin found no end to his own staring.

Then again, who said that his eyes were the only ones fixed on Sehun? If possible, Jongin could spew all the poison that he had in himself at the sight in front of him: Sehun and, of course, his secretary, standing so close to each other that Jongin was sure they were sharing the same oxygen. He was done with their nonsense. This was getting ridiculous; them getting so close, even when Jongin was so near and could see everything that there was to see. They were close, they were so close. Jongin could snap.

He decided not to, in the end. He breathed, and looked away only to find Lucas already staring at him. Holy Hell, this man.

Lucas grinned, and came up to him; wide-eyed, smiling eyes, and a complete resemblance of a whipped puppy. "Jongin!" He greeted Jongin. Jongin had noticed this thing about him: he did not like to call Jongin with his married name; it was always Jongin, but never Mr Oh, as he was now after his marriage. "You look bored."

He looked salty at best, jealous at worst. "I think I want the photoshoot to start already." He said, tone pouty. He tried to poke back the poutiness of his mouth, but it barely worked.

Lucas's eyes sparked in interest. "I am ready for it! You look like you are too! I don't know why they're delaying though." He kept bouncing on his feet, eyes flitting across the whole frame of Jongin. "Whenever you say."

Probably because Sehun was busy flirting with a woman. He pressed his lips in a thin line, and his eyes were narrowed at the wall. He could not look behind himself, for if he did, it would only bring him grave disappointment. Sehun and the woman, whose name Jongin had yet to learn, were still talking and laughing loudly. It was hurting his sentiments; and before he knew his jealousy increased tenfold. He puffed his cheeks out, and turned around to fix his blazing gaze on Sehun, but mostly on the woman.

"Is it going to happen today or not!" He shouted, silencing the entirety of the room. It remained silent for a long moment, enough to give Jongin some serious embarrassment about what he had done earlier. However, when Sehun came to him to announce that they would start the shoot soon, it was swallowed back, and he only felt immense satisfaction at the separation of the Boss and his secretary.

Lucas cleared his throat, and announced that the setting was already completed. He was flushed red, and seemed more on edge. Jongin really could not understand this man. He ushered them into a separate room, and to the stylist.

“You seem upset,” Sehun said curiously, and sounded gravely confused at his pouty expressions and whiny complaints. Jongin could not help it, he was tired of seeing Sehun with his secretary again and again; it had started getting on his nerves, and it hit that insecure part of him that reminded him of his situation; the drawback that came with him, and the advantage with the secretary. He stayed silent, and kept his gaze fixed on the mirror. Sehun sighed, and turned to leave the room altogether. The resigned sigh, and the lack of more questions brought tears to his eyes. He knew he was overthinking, but he could not help himself in a situation like his.

***

The photoshoot was successful; the photos came out well; and Jongin was almost, almost the new official model of the company. They just needed to have a talk, and things would come around eventually. Sehun was excited, Jongin could tell, however he was too annoyed to say anything, or join him in his excitement. His source of annoyance was no one but Sehun himself, and his secretary; and their little, too close to be simple conversations. Jongin could not help it, his jealousy, he did not think he was supposed to, nor was he supposed to not show it on his face. His snappish behavior must have gotten on Sehun’s nerves, because the next moment his question went unanswered, he slammed the car to a stop in between the heavy traffic on a late evening in Seoul. In Seoul.

“What are you doing?” He asked over the loud honking and swearings. “Sehun, the f--”

“What is it that you are not telling me?”

“There’s nothing,” he hissed through his tightly sealed mouth. “You’re angering them. Drive already.”

“I am not going to drive unless you answer me.”

“I just did!” He lied, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re pissing them off. We will talk later about this.”

“As if,” Sehun said, and stubbornly looked away from him. He still did not drive. “Just give me the reason why you’re acting like this, and we are good to go.”

“Holy hell, Sehun.” He snapped shut his eyes, and stared out of the window to clear his head, which was hard at a moment like this when everyone was ramming their honks, and passing colourful languages at them. “There’s really nothing,” he tried again, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“The truth maybe? You have been acting like this for far too long, and things are going right between us. I don’t want some petty thing to ruin the progress.”

He swallowed at that, and flushed red. When he opened his mouth to speak, he was silenced by the knocks at Sehun’s window. Of course. He sighed, and closed his eyes. “Now, pay.”

Sehun cringed at the sight of the officer, but did not say anything.

Hours later, at their house, the older Oh couple seized every opportunity to remind them that they were old enough to know what was right and what was wrong, that they were married and they needed to act like it. Jongin understood the agitation the older couple might have felt in the beginning, however he could do nothing but poutily blame Sehun and his antics that he could not get rid of, but needed to. The older couple immediately agreed with Jongin's words, and even brought Sehun's drinking habits between the argument much to Sehun's chagrin and Jongin's amusement.

Mrs Oh sat on the other side of them. "This behaviour, Sehun," she began all of a sudden, gravely serious, "will influence your child in the wrong direction. You know that, then I don't understand why it's hard for you to be more responsible."

That ticked Jongin's nerves: filled with agitation that he never felt before, shame and humiliation, and a twinge of regret, guilt, and perhaps a sense of another 'drawback'. He was shamed, even without anyone's knowledge.

"We will hear then soon, won't we?"

Sehun looked away, and very subtly pressed his finger over Jongin's. It provided Jongin with some comfort, even though he knew the time to hear the truth was very near.

"This marriage between you two, it's going to stay as it is, right? We won't need to," she stopped, and said no further. However, all the present knew what she was talking about, and its implication. "Alright," she started all over again, "how about we leave you two now? It's late, and you two should take rest."

"Yeah," Sehun said, and stood up to greet his parents goodbye; Mrs Oh pressed a kiss to Jongin's head, and Mr Oh patted his head in a silent goodbye for now. However, Jongin's heart was too heavy with the truth and the heavy baggage that he could barely smile when they left and talk to Sehun over dinner without any distraction.

"Jongin," Sehun said later. "What mom said, did it bother you?"

"Not really," he poked his side of the pillow. Sehun stared long and hard at him, perhaps curious with the tone he used, and the uncertainty in his voice. Jongin could not tell. He was often confused with Sehun and around Sehun.

"What is happening, Jongin?" He asked anyway. "What is it that you're not telling me? If it bothers you so much, you should tell me." He brought his hand to along the softness of Jongin's cheek; Jongin intimately melted under the touch of his hand. Sehun gave a toothy grin. "You like when I touch you, don't you?"

Jongin flushed under the heavy implication of the simple words. He demurred further under his touch. "I don't know what you're talking about," he whined, in a baby soft voice. He blinked his eyes slowly, sleep heavy on him with its presence. "Shut up," he ordered when Sehun said something lascivious in a whisper. "I am thinking."

"Good things I hope." Sehun grinned, but got back on track soon. "Hey," he started again, and rubbed a thumb on the apple of Jongin's cheek. "You know I am here, right? You can tell me anything and everything that there is."

"Everything?"

"Yeah, everything."

Jongin truly would have, but Sehun seemed like he could fall asleep any second, so he kept his curious words to himself. Would you want to listen to me even after knowing what I hid all these years? Or would you change? Wouldn't that be easy though--for a man to change?

He swallowed. "Thanks."

Sehun smiled, baby soft, and pressed a thumb under his heavy bottom lip. "Anything for the man I am falling for."

Jongin would have flushed, would have allowed his heart to race in his chest, but he was too scared to feel anything but tension and stress for the conversation they would soon have. How long Sehun's sentiments would remain the same, he did not know. But, he wanted to bask under the glow of it for as long as possible.

Anxious, he slowly curled under Sehun's heavy arm around his waist, and heard nothing but his heartbeats for long hours into the starless night.

 

***

The next week, another photoshoot took place before Jongin was shown the new designs the company had come up with. Jongin was impressed with what was shown; his often flitted over the woolen crop tops kept in a corner. If Sehun noticed, he did not say anything for as long everyone was present. Jongin’s hands often weaved through the clothes they said were designed for the women, though he did like a lot of clothes meant solely for men. How Jongin would explain it, he did not know, but he knew there were two very basic reasons: first, the clothes meant for women had softer material, silky mostly and so easy on his skin; second, his mind sparkled with several ideas about what was possible if he wore them. He pushed aside all clothes, much to the confusion of everyone present except Sehun himself, before settling with a crop top and black jeans; it was one of the softest clothes present there, woolen, and designed so well Jongin was sure he was going to keep it for himself. He’d ruin all these designs for everyone else, he thought decisively.

“They will remember you in them when they wear them.” Sehun sounded almost as stuck with the idea as Jongin was.

“Well,” Jongin grinned, “isn’t that the purpose of it all?”

Decisions made, another photoshoot was scheduled, followed, and the result was ready to be published in the upcoming weeks. Jongin knew they were going to shoot straight for the sky this time. The reason for his happiness (and perhaps slight pettiness) increased only when he noticed the potential downfall of the company he left in the hands of his family; the truth was, it would need another few years to sound like a lost cause; second, he was not entirely happy seeing all the mistakes that his family was doing with it, sure they had some right mind to do whatever good they could, but there was a limit to his family’s intelligence and gameplay in the business; a glaringly obvious drawback that Jongin had filled with his own presence. However, there was neither Jongin nor his team present to handle the slow downfall of the company that Jongin was sure was coming its way. He moaned for his own hard work, and for his family who needed help but were too proud to ask for his. Well, Jongin told himself that they could suffer if they wanted.

Sehun, surprisingly, took a lot of interest in Jongin’s interest in some of the women’s fashion. He always seemed sly, and proud in a way that Jongin had never seen his family in. It all filled him with some sort of glee that Jongin could barely contain; all he wanted to get up on his legs, be steady, and kiss the hell out of Sehun’s stupidly handsome face. Though, Jongin always came with certain drawbacks; some could be lived with, and some were harder to swallow.

Jongin was certain that what he would tell Sehun would come under the second category, and it filled him with enough fear that he could barely feel anything when he noticed Sehun with his secretary, again. They never did anything that would offend or disrespect the marriage between them, but it always scared Jongin what was possible with the way Sehun looked and was, and his secretary too. They could start an affair and Jongin would not even know. Perhaps it was this fear that he tried to be as absent as possible in the company; the reminders that he lacked some, and the woman did not were enough for him to try and make a distance between Sehun and him.

At first, Sehun seemed to not mind it. The photoshoot was finished, and they were ready to be released in the public, which meant the product launch was very near and Sehun being the CEO of the company meant he was completely busy with the paperwork and everything else that came with it. Sehun was barely home anyway. It gave Jongin enough time to think and overthink in the free time, which was a lot. When he could tell Sehun about what he was hiding? Before or after? Would that even matter, because as much as Jongin knew it was a huge bomb? Would it be alright if he did not say anything at all? Would it be alright if he hid it? Perhaps that would not even stay married for a long time; perhaps this arrangement would end after five years--the thoughts of it all filled Jongin’s heart with agitation and worries. As much as he had claimed in the beginning that he would not feel anything for Sehun, the truth was that he was feeling a lot more than he bargained for. It was getting so deep, this thing that he felt for Sehun, that it almost made him cry at the absurdity and unfairness of whatever that happened to him. He had never hated his past more than at this moment.

Two weeks later, after the product launch, and the inevitable success of the strategies that they had worked on earlier, Jongin told Sehun the truth. It was not supposed to come out at that moment, that day, when Sehun had brought him on a long drive to the countryside so that they could celebrate the evening alone. It was supposed to happen later, but the feeling felt at the moment for Sehun was heavy enough that Jongin could not stop himself. So, he did.

"If this ever gets serious," he began, "this thing between us, I mean. Would you want to start a family?" He swallowed nervously at the first seconds of silence that greeted him.

"I mean,” Sehun blinked, staring up at the stars. “If you want to. Do you want to?” He asked, in a hushed whisper, like whatever Jongin would answer that second would just be their secret, and if someone said anything to Jongin, Sehun would take the complete responsibility for it. The thought was heartwarming to Jongin, but he feared if Sehun would think the same after hearing the truth. “Whatever you want.”

“It's not about the want, Sehun,” he replied, voice a little choked up with how clogged his throat felt. He breathed, and closed his eyes. “It’s about if I can.”

Silence. Absolute silence for the next few minutes. Jongin knew what Sehun felt, or perhaps he did not. Him hearing the truth several years ago was one thing--he was shocked, disgusted, and hopeless beyond a word--but to Sehun it might mean something else; perhaps something that Jongin could neither understand nor explain. Jongin could not tell. He was lost for words, and so seemed Sehun.

When seven minutes and forty-six seconds passed, Sehun spoke, and he sounded so… “Oh, Jongin, . I am so sorry.” He curled around Jongin, his head on Jongin’s chest as he took shallow breaths as if it was hard for him to breathe and not Jongin himself. Jongin could not understand. “I am so sorry, baby,” he said as if it was his mistake. “God, is it because of--” he stopped, perhaps understanding that there needed to be no clarifications about that point, “god,” he began again, “I am so sorry I was not there for you.”

Jongin could not understand the circumstances, and Sehun’s reaction. Was it a normal one? Or was Sehun just as stupid as he was?

“Hey,” Sehun said, and there were tears in his voice, “don’t think it’s your mistake, alright? I don’t want you to think that. It’s okay. Don’t think about it.”

“It’s not okay,” he said, shaking under Sehun with the onslaught of tears.

“It is.”

“It’s not, you don’t understand.”

“It is,” he said, and his voice demanded no arguments; they were the last words, and he wanted them to stay.

Despite how Sehun said it, and how he treated Jongin with kindness and softness that only came when the heart felt, Jongin knew it was not okay. It was not his mistake, he told himself, but then why did it happen to him, him of all people? Why was he chosen that night, and not some willing partner for his brother’s friend? He told himself that he could not blame himself--and believed it for the most part, too--but there was always a what-if. What if he had fought back harder? What if he had screamed louder? What if he had not stayed silent as his family asked him to? What if he had taken it upon himself to see the damage himself, maybe most of his could have been saved?

He avoided Sehun like a human avoided a plague (what was Sehun spreading? he was spreading love). Nothing good came out of it, of course--nothing with avoidance ever did--but it soothed Jongin's anxiety a lot. Which was not much, but Jongin cared not about that but how he was tackling the situation, however cowardly it was. Sehun, however, caught up to him one evening. Drunk that he was, he was honest with Jongin in declaring his worries and disappointments about everything in general. Some of the words hurt Jongin, even though they were the truth, and even when he knew that he had no say in what Sehun felt about the issue.

“I talked to my parents,” he began, unsure but still somehow confident of the words he was using, “I told them it’s going so well, this thing between us. They were happy, of course.” He blurped, drunk that he was. “Then, I told them we will never have babies.” His voice was getting slurred, and Jongin’s fear was rising tenfold as he came closer to the conclusion. “They asked why; they were shocked, surprised, upset, and perhaps angry too. I don’t know. I was drinking more and paying attention to them less and less. So, I repeated firmly this time that we won’t have babies, and they asked softly this time why won’t we. I did that dramatic silence thing, you know, to get them on edge and all. Then told them the truth, my truth.” He looked at Jongin, his face angled heavily on his right side. He was barely awake; drunk on the alcohol he was, it took him some time to focus on one Jongin. He said there were too many of him. Jongin couldn’t understand what he wanted to reply to that. “I told them my made up truth. I told them, sadly, that I did a test, and you know what I found?”

Jongin closed his eyes, he knew where Sehun was going with this.

“I told them we won’t have babies, because I can’t. They asked what I meant, and I gave them an explicit answer. I can’t give Jongin the that he needs…” his voice turned whisper soft, as if he himself forgot what he had said to his parents. Jongin teared up, perhaps feeling the most vulnerable after that night. “I told you right, I am not going to let anyone question you. I even have fake medical tests to prove my, um, weakness?” He sounded unsure, almost like he was regretting not talking about this with Jongin beforehand, but Jongin--he knew there was no going back from what he felt right that moment.

Sehun had become an important part of his life, after a single conversation Jongin was willing to take it to any extent to be with Sehun. However, he was afraid and there was no denying that. Jongin loved Sehun, he knew he did, but he feared it now more than ever; for he was afraid that his feelings might never be returned. What was it exactly that he thought: Sehun, though as sweet and kind he was to Jongin, undeniably wanted a family and Jongin for the first time in his life agreed that he lacked something so important that it could potentially cause a drift between them even before anything properly started.

He did not know if Sehun had talked to his parents about anything about that night’s incident, but he wanted to. Oh my god, he wanted to talk about it so much so that people did not laugh on Sehun’s part; of his unreal weakness. He couldn’t, however, for he was afraid. So, he kept it to himself, and worked more and more on the upcoming projects the company was deciding on, and tried to pay as little mind as possible to the cause. Which was not really a difficult job.

Sehun was home more, but they talked less; like they were trapped in their own bubbles, and needed some sort of saving (help) to come out of it, because they wanted it so much. Jongin was afraid what it meant, Sehun seemed so, too.

“So,” Sehun said one day, in the late hour after midnight. They both were wide awake, sleep seemed like a distance dream. “I think going out for a drive would be amazing at this hour. Would you like to go out with me?” It sounded a lot like a confession, a proposal.

Jongin blushed despite himself. “Yeah, I guess that would be amazing.”

Sehun grinned, boyish like. “Then, let’s go, darling.”

Off they were within the next half an hour, dressed comfortably in warmest of clothes to battle the cold outside. It felt stupd, to go on a drive at this late hour, but Jongin liked doing stupid with Sehun: and perhaps that was the big deal. They smiled and laughed through the next hour, talking about nothing but everything at once; everything that mattered, and everything that did not; everything that was unsaid and said had heavy implication of their blooming relationship and increasing mutual understanding and respect. It warmed Jongin’s heart in the gloomy moments of the cold winter. He hoped it did the same for Sehun, too. He looked relaxed, and younger than he did in recent months, which was undeniably an attractive look on his handsome figure.

Jongin was not afraid to admit that Sehun was beautiful: the truth was, he was stunning, and Jongin often lost his own thoughts when he looked at the masculine beauty he made. He often paid himself attention, and he knew he looked the most gorgeous as they came, perhaps even more than that. Perhaps his own beauty was a standard in itself, and perhaps that was why he always thought they looked perfect standing next to each other; kind of like made for each other kind of couple, ruined for anyone else but each other. It was like a confidence boost, and Jongin loved that he did not consider himself any less than his husband. What he was often afraid about was his lack of simpler things in life; somethings that he could not control anymore, and something that Sehun had long accepted as a part of him. Perhaps Jongin needed to, too?

Perhaps his thoughts, which were so muddled and uncoordinated for so long, was because he was conflicted by his own feelings and Sehun’s? Perhaps he was afraid of being vulnerable and accepting his shortcomings, or perhaps it was just simple; there was none (at least ones that did matter), and that was why Sehun was still so kind to him. Maybe he needed to stop questioning himself. Maybe it was time he let his thoughts run straight; they were running in all directions, and were ruining what could be easy. Maybe he just needed to let go.

“They have, like, the best hot chocolate in the vicinity. I am sure you will love it, as big as you’re a lover of hot chocolate.”

They’d stopped by a little cafe at the edge of the city, a place Sehun claimed that offered the best and was open whenever one wanted to hang out. Sehun often visited it, when he wanted bubble tea. Bubble Tea. Jongin rolled his eyes.

“You can wait here,” he said, and stopped at a table in the farthest corner. “I will bring our orders, alright?”

He nodded soundlessly. He was amazed with the cute design of the shop; though overdone, it still had some sort of… refinement to it that the owners did justice to. Jongin liked it. When Sehun came back with their orders, he smiled up at him. “It looks good,” he agreed.

“You know what they were saying?” Sehun jerked his thumb at the old couple, the owners. “They said they recognize you from the modelling photos. They say you look lovely.”

“Oh,” he said, and ducked his head low. He blushed when Sehun confirmed that there was no wrong in their words. “That’s, uh, unexpected?”

“Unexpected? Unexpected!” Sehun said dramatically. “Jongin, do you even have the idea of your power? I mean, you sure have with that cockiness,” he teased, grinning when Jongin rolled his eyes at him. “But, even though you have the idea of your power, you don’t have it. It’s amazing, Jongin. Your presence, I mean. It is huge, big and so there. It’s hard to overlook your presence.” He looked down at Jongin. “Plus, you’re so amazing a person! Of course, people will have a hard time catching up to that.”

“Is there something you want to imply, Sehun?” He said, curious but actually serious.

Sehun flushed a little. It was a good look on him, Jongin always thought the same. He swallowed. “I just want you to know that you don’t ever have to doubt yourself for what others did. What happened was tragic to say the least, what followed is worse. But, that’s not all, you know. You’re such an amazing person, Jongin. I like how you’re strong, yet so--" he hesitated in putting up a word here, as if he was afraid of offending Jongin's sentiments--"so soft." He breathed. "I like that about you, Jongin.

"I like it so much you have no idea." He swallowed and took Jongin's hand between his own. Sehun told Jongin that the juxtaposition was so stunning between their hands: Jongin's smaller and delicate, and his bigger and rougher. It was a delightful discovery, he said. Jongin's face warmed at those words. "You don't have to overthink about that. What happened was not your fault, and will never be. I will cover for you. If you want to. I have no problem with what people would think of me, but when they'll hear about… that, they will say mean things about you, and it shouldn't matter!" He hurried to say. "But, I can't hear them say anything when they won't even know and care about the truth. So, no.

"It will stay like this for as long as you want." He rubbed his thumb over Jongin's knuckles. "You don't have to worry about it, alright? I am here."

What was it that they said about that bubbling sense of adoration? What exactly was it, Jongin did not know. What he knew though was that he was feeling everything that he never did before, and it was as toe curling sensation as anxiousness it was. Did Sehun feel for him, too? Would that not be possible? Could that not be possible? Perhaps he did. His eyes spoke. Sehun's eyes spoke, too.

"It's a good hot chocolate." He said instead, laughing into his cup when Sehun made a pouty face at him. He was cute, Jongin could give him that. He smiled up at him, eyes curved in little moons at the sight of his handsome figure. "I adore this place already. I don't think I could sleep any night without coming here once."

"Yeah, then you'd get fatter."

Jongin dramatically gasped. "You didn't just call me fat!"

"Look at all this." He stopped and poked around his cheek, and then down at his waist. "I know Jongin. I have seen it all," he said slyly, not at all ashamed of the implications he made, "I have touched it all, and I love it all. In fact," he leaned back on the chair, arms crossed wide over his wide chest, "I don't think I would mind the fat at all. You can be my little fatty baby."

Jongin narrowed his eyes at him, offended. "I am not impressed."

Sehun laughed. "But, I am."

Jongin could not believe him; he was confused by Sehun's behaviour, his words, and his moods; of his opinions, his feelings, and his thoughts. He was confused. Was he not the one who said all those profound words and meant them too? How was it easy for him to feel so much yet come back with that smiling face even after the lack of response from his side?

Was Sehun actually serious about his words?

Jongin would not doubt anything until much later; that too because the questions arose because of the undeniable jealousy and fear deep in his . It started slowly; though the accumulation had been for a longer time. Whenever he saw Sehun with his assistant, the moments increasing every other day, he would feel this undeniable ache and irrepressible jealousy that it would get hard to breathe. He wanted to talk, but at the same time, he didn't.

What if Sehun said something that he thought he would? What if Sehun was, in reality, disappointed in what Jongin had told him and just needed to find a release somewhere else? Would he be okay with that? absolutely not. Would he actually say something to Sehun about it? no, definitely not. He was afraid, and the fear was the most vulnerable when it was kept inside. He could not afford to be vulnerable in a situation like that.

However, truth had a habit of coming out anyway. It could not be repressed, nor it could be denied. It was real, and it was. Sehun saw through his worries soon enough. He always did, almost as if he was willing to read more and more of Jongin at any given moment, and at any given opportunity. Jongin liked it as much as he feared it. How did Sehun know so much of him in so little time? Was he so easy to read?

Sehun had his hand pressed over his, tender and all things nice and sweet. “You don’t like Mina,” he declared.

“Who is Mina?” It was the truth, Jongin had no idea who this Mina was. “Why would I dislike someone who I haven’t even met?”

Sehun grinned, a proud mischievous little thing over his thin mouth. “You’re so sweet, baby,” he said, ruffling Jongin’s hair before leaving the room for another meeting. Jongin could not understand him.

The confusion and jealousy because of this third person, Sehun’s assistant, remained. If Sehun knew what was bothering Jongin, he did not say it or clear it. He let it stay; he let Jongin burn in the silence of jealousy for a period longer than necessary because--Jongin did not know why! Was it because he wanted Jongin to confess something that he himself was afraid to confess first? Jongin did not know, but what he knew was that it was too cruel a game to play because it was working, and every single spent looking at them was tortuous. Jongin hated it all. However, all he could was whine and pout at Jung; and even though he wouldn’t want it, he would question himself. Unlike all the other times in the past, this kind of questioning himself was actually serious and taking a toll on him. Jongin hated how much effect Sehun had on him.

That, too, when he would corner Jongin in their apartment, and would demand a mess of sweaty and tangled limbs on the bed with such a heavy voice and lazy disposition that he would not deny him. Jongin could do it all for him. He wanted the same from Sehun, too. He would willingly spread his legs for him, and would allow him to map out inches of skin that he had, and would allow him everything that Sehun wanted and all that he could give and more. That, to him, said a lot about his feelings for Sehun. At this stage, it was undeniable that he felt. He felt, and Sehun knew; he knew perhaps because he felt it, too. After, when he would be too tired to even turn around, Sehun would cover him up with his shirt, and would trail the feathery touch of his fingertips down his thighs and around his ankles.

Jongin would have to remind himself that he would not feel a single touch on his feet, and over his feet however long Sehun touched them; it was disheartening, but Jongin could not be bothered with the truth in those moments. He wanted more of it and if possible, everything of him in return.

“They don’t feel anything, right?” Sehun asked, hands holding his feet firmly. “Nothing at all?” He sounded gravely upset, but he said he was not so at Jongin but at those who did that to him. He ran his thumb over the arch of his feet, and then over his ankle. Jongin only knew because he was watching all of it. “Do you want to do anything about this?”

He sighed. “I already told you nothing is to be done anymore.”

“No, not about this.” Sehun swallowed. “About that.”

“About what exactly, Sehun?”

“You know what I am talking about, Jongin.”

“No, I do not,” he lied. It was easy; even though he had to keep his eyes away, and even when Sehun acted like he knew Jongin was lying. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you ever think of putting your molester behind the bars?” He asked, bluntly, and cringed when Jongin shook a little under the gentle press of his hands. “I am sorry, Jongin. But, I don’t know about you, but I am feeling desperate every other day.” He crawled over Jongin, arms braced beside his head. “I don’t want to put pressure on you,” he said softly, “but I want to know you’re thinking the same, Jongin. Because. I honestly can’t live with the truth that he’s out there somewhere living his life, and you’re here, living with the truth of the night; reliving everything all over again, and again. It makes me angry.

“It makes me so angry,” he continued, voice grave and all soft of angry even though his face looked soft under the soft lighting of the room. “Do you ever think about it, Jongin? I just want to know that.”

“They’ll take Heechul, too.”

Sehun clenched his jaw. “Well, I don’t know about you, but he deserves that for what he did to you.”

He swallowed. “My parents will be devastated.”

“They should have raised a more sensible son, then. They should have been responsible parents, Jongin.”

“You don’t understand, do you? It will destroy my family! They will be ruined.”

“Did you have any to begin with?” Sehun countered, getting off him to sit at the edge of the bed. “Did you have any family to begin with, Jongin? Who the are you fighting for anyway? Who are you trying to keep safe?”

Sehun was cruel, he was so cruel to him. “Well, you can’t stand by me if you spend so much time with that secretary of yours, can you!”

Sehun turned to him, absolutely confused. His eyes flashed in understanding, though. “What are you talking about?”

Jongin shivered under the weight of his gaze. “Your secretary, and you!”

“Mina and I? What’s between us?”

His lower lip trembled. “I don’t know, you tell me that!”

"There's nothing between us."

"Oh, really! Don't lie to me!"

"Why are you screaming?" Sehun asked, faultlessly soft. "You don't need to scream for me to understand." He came back to Jongin, and his wide palm spanned the length of his inner thigh. "What are you talking about?"

He felt bummed. “You know what I am talking about.” When Sehun remained silent even then, he swallowed and pouted. “You’re spending too much time with that secretary of yours.” Sehun raised an eyebrow at him, and looked funny at him. “What! You do, and it’s getting on my nerves. You don’t have to spend so much time with her.”

“You think something’s going on between us?” He asked softly, and ran his fingers through Jongin’s silky strands. It was growing longer, he said, but it looked pretty on him. “You look so good with long hair.”

“Don’t change the topic.” He swatted his hand, and sighed. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing, I swear.” He took Jongin’s hand in his own. “I am not a man like that. The things around the company are getting really tense, and she has her way around things. I wouldn’t even think about that, Jongin. That’s a ty thing to suppose of me.” He sounded gravely disappointed. Jongin felt bad about it; he had let his jealousy guide his way through all the wrong words.

“I am sorry.” He hung his head low. “I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s so not okay.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up for it. That’s not the Jongin I know.”

Jongin rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. But, it was still wrong of me to... accuse you of something like that. I am sorry.”

“You really are apologizing?” He sounded as if he was having fun. Jongin could not believe him. “Okay, then. I accept your apology. It doesn’t matter.”

He narrowed his eyes, nature curious.

“What about we go on a drive again?”

They did. Jongin could not help it, long drives late at night with Sehun were the best; he did not even have enough experience to compare the feeling with something else. It just was, and it was amazing. Jongin loved it, and Sehun loved it too. However, this night seemed different; there was an underlying tension in the air around them, and Jongin could blame nothing but the earlier conversation between them; he knew Sehun was b with overwhelming amounts of hysteria to talk about that and if possible, take the next step already. He wanted to talk, but Jongin was scared. It began anyway, it had to begin. It could not be refused the entry now that Sehun had the knowledge of it, and was as angry as Jongin once had been (when he wanted revenge more than anything else). Perhaps Sehun was at the same stage.

“So,” Sehun began, “what do you think of that?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

Sehun clenched his jaw. “Not talking about it won’t solve ,” he hissed, his hands cold tight on the steering wheel. “Talk to me and tell me you don’t want it too.”

“I have wanted it for a long time. I just don’t find the reason to do it anymore.”

“Not do it anymore? He’s running around like a free man for ’s sake. You’re stuck here.”

“I never knew you hated this so much.”

“I don’t hate it, but it makes me so angry. Why can’t we do anything about it? Why, I don’t find any reason to not do it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Maybe because it has been a very long time. I don’t know if it still can be reported.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Sehun slammed the car to a stop. They were in the middle of a deserted highway, blowing wind was rowdy around them. They could argue, they could do anything without anyone’s knowledge. “It should be out in the open at least. People should know. People deserve to know. You deserve to let this out, so that everyone knows how horrible everything has been for you.”

“You wanted to keep it all a secret,” he snapped, reminding the older man of his words of days ago. “You promised that no one will know, because no one will understand. Where I stand at this stage of life, so popular and expensive--no exaggeration, just the ing truth--they won’t believe me. In fact, most of them will only say I deserve it. Did I deserve it, Sehun?”

Sehun remained silent for the first few minutes. “No,” he said finally, decisively. “You didn’t. No one does.”

Jongin pressed his lips together. “I have felt what you’re feeling; in fact, it has been much more personal, Sehun. It’s not like I don’t want that. It’s been time, the only thing that would happen if I speak now is that it would tarnish his name for a while, perhaps a few years, but things will come around, and he will come back anyway. Maybe he would go to jail for a couple of years, but he would be able to get a bail quick. The time factor matters. My proof would be insufficient. There’s nothing that I can say or do that would make this case any strong. Nothing will happen if I take to the court now, not when I have only one proof; that is I was abused that day. But, then how would I prove that what happened physically was without my consent? How could I possibly prove that?

"It's been years, Sehun. The truth remains: I can't do anything about it. Nothing will happen. I have accepted that."

Sehun swallowed. "We can try." He tried weakly.

"I have a lawyer, Sehun. We have talked. Case won't be strong, not after this long. Not when I don't have anything to prove it; for hell's sake, I don't even have a witness. It's undeniable that if I brought this in public, my family would get afraid. If they get afraid, they will speak against me. They will say all innocent things; he was a child, he doesn't know. I am not going to go through that, Sehun. I won't survive that."

"So," Sehun hissed through clenched teeth, his anger was barely contained, "he stays as he is? Whoever the he is. Enjoying his life, while you live with the truth of that horrible night every single second of your life?"

"This is not how I am going to ruin him, Sehun."

"I don't care! Just give him his name. I will ing ruin him."

Jongin looked out of the window, hands curled in his lap. "If it was so easy…" he stopped, "don't be stupid, and just drive."

"I can't, Jongin." Sehun admitted, his voice heavy in ways that hurt every single cell in Jongin's body. "I try to tell myself that we can move on, that we don't need to tell anyone about it. But, but then I look at you. I look at that child, and I look at that destroyed innocence, and everything that remains after that is seething rage. My parents don't know anything about it, but oh god, I want them to know so they feel the same anger, and pain as me. But I hold myself back for you. But, I can't, Jongin. Show me a way out, or I will burn in my own anger."

He was seconds away from crying, Jongin knew. "Hey," he said, wanting to curl into Sehun of all things right this second, "look at me."

Sehun shook his head, his voice and face wet with the tears of heartfelt suffering.

"Look at me, Sehun," he said again, firmer this time. When Sehun did, he curled his hand over the elder's and found comfort in the difference of their sizes. It always felt good to be around Sehun. Didn't it, Jongin? "I am not going to let him get away for what he did to me. I will ruin him, Sehun.”

Sehun swallowed. “God.”

“It’s okay,” he said, and meant it too.

Jongin had learnt to live with the truth; Sehun needed to, too. Jongin could not babysit Sehun’s feelings and emotions for long, he was a mess himself; juggling between one thought to the other; between one work to the other; between one idea to the other. He was busy. He could not simply go through all that over again. He was not strong enough for that . Not anymore, at least. So, Sehun should learn to his wounds, and accept the truth as it was.

***

He was not the only jealous person living under that apartment; Sehun was, too, and he felt jealousy more than he did. Who was he actually jealous of? Of course, whom Jongin least expected: Lucas. Jongin could not believe him. Perhaps he stood right where Sehun stood once. It was funny, Jongin got it; he understood why Sehun stayed silent too, no matter how much of an move it was. Though the confusion was cleared sooner than expected; they reconciled, and there was really no conflict between them. Except of course when the argument about that night came between them, over and over again. They had to wait, he said, and Sehun mournfully agreed. He was not onboard with the idea, but Jongin was not looking for acceptance. The ruin of his family’s company by themselves was inevitable, and Jongin was not going to poke around that company much after all, it was his hard work, watching it go downhills would bring him the most pain.

What was left was of the other company, of his assailant. Jongin could not let that one go, and having Sehun’s support by his side was as positive as anything could be. He was free, and just as in control of everything as he once was in his own company. The only way to put an end to his assailant’s tyranny was the complete downfall of his company, and one anonymous report by him about the ual harassment. He would not put forth his name, but would let everyone listening know what happened that night so once that he fell, he wouldn’t get back up. If he remembered Jongin, he would know. His family would know, and they would step back; they would have no other way. Jongin remembered, and perhaps that was what mattered the most to them.

Around one month later, in the cold of December, Jongin realised the warmth that Sehun brought with him was the most important one in his life; the feeling left him almost wounded; knowing that he had little to no control over what he could feel without Sehun was awful. What he was, what he was not. Everything revolved around Sehun, and the thought of feeling so much for the same person was just as scary as exciting it was. What was there to not love about Sehun? Jongin had no reason to question that; Sehun was awfully charming, and he was resilient on his promises, and he was someone who Jongin could trust even in his sleep to keep his words to his chest and now allow anyone to see them lest they did not understand what they meant to Jongin, and him.

He was soft, and he was sweet; he was the man of Jongin’s dreams. Jongin liked him, liked how he was and how he was not. He liked cuddling with him in the cold of winter, when the cold seeped into the veins and refused to leave without familiar arms holding him. He had come such a long way from where he once stood. It was scary. But, Jongin liked it anyway. He liked cooking with him, he liked showering with him, and he liked sleeping with him. The most he liked was how Sehun made him feel complete that one night, when they heard the news of the sudden downfall of his molester’s empire, so shocking to all, even to them, that they could not believe it until the market fell the next day. It was a difficult time, his assailant’s company had done a number in the market. It definitely had a lot of control over it.

Anyway.

Where was Jongin? Yes, that night. The night after. When Sehun came back from the company, pouty faced--confused yet so much control in that moment--and held him, and laughed with him, and rolled him to the moon and back on their bed. That moment, he felt complete. In a sense that scared him, scared him enough that he questioned himself if anything was true at all. But, then Sehun had kissed him over his eyelids; softer than ever, and things had finally come around.