The news of Chanyeol reaches him the last; he receives it at last, as if he was not important to the man who died, and just as unimportant to those who are left behind for the time being. He is not really surprised; he always has been a rather forgettable presence; he was in his own family, whatever was left of it nine years ago, and isn’t much to Chanyeol’s, too. The man who loved him more than the stars loved the nights, was Chanyeol only; he is dead, and all Jongin is left with is the certain hollowness and abyss that just won’t end; it keeps swallowing him down; he screams and asks for some help, some kindness, but it never comes. It has become such a routine that he doesn’t even fight it anymore, he doesn’t think he’s capable of feeling much pain, too (though he does try, in silence and loneliness, to stifle the insistent prodding of his mind and his heart). The acceptance comes easy, and Jongin has never considered himself a fighter anyway.

 

After the death of his fiance, and now being bereft of the promising life that Chanyeol once promised so heartily, he returns to his older apartment in a very familiar neighbourhood. The apartment is painted red and white, almost looks new; has a little garden in the front that he once spent hours working on; the apartment has two bedrooms, one his own and the other a guest bedroom; a bathroom; a living room; a kitchen; and a small backyard. His life, he believes, would unfold here; it once did when he was a child, then when Chanyeol and he came at his place for the one night stand (that never remained a mere one night stand in the long run) that changed it all and began a fresh chapter in his life. Now, the man who began it all ended it, too. He has come back to right where he started.

 

He starts working on it, cleans it all; the dust and the rugs, and buys new curtains and bedsheets--and hopes against all hopes that the thought of Chanyeol won’t hit him. It’s easy, he believes, if he doesn’t think about Chanyeol and does so for a long time, his absence would become a routine, and he would not miss him anymore. It would be easy, he tells him, as he furiously scrubs the floor; he sweats, tears up again and again but refuses to allow them an exit. He just needs to think about his apartment, how can he make it the way it was--but prettier. Perhaps he can add big flower vases in the corners of the rooms; maybe he can place his bed against the wall; maybe he can use the red curtains for the living room; maybe he can place the television in his bedroom this time unlike how he once did before… before Chanyeol.

 

He swallows, stops, and then stops scrubbing altogether, too. Maybe he can just stop pretending to be strong. Maybe he can do that now, now that he’s finally alone and isn’t accused of being things that he is not. Maybe this is the time where he can sit in silence, perhaps sob, and accuse Chanyeol of playing with him, and using him. Perhaps Chanyeol did use him. Perhaps he can tell himself that so that he doesn’t miss him anymore. But, as he looks down at the little golden bangle on his left wrist, and remembers the day Chanyeol gifted him that, he doesn’t think he’s capable of accusing the only good man he has known in his life. Perhaps he should just accept it, and mourn like he wants to.

 

He crawls back against the dirty floor, and stays seated next to the foot of the couch for a long while. His hands shake, his frame shakes, and he barely breathes like a healthy human does; he feels anxious, he feels barely in the moment, and he feels like he’s been swallowed by a void so vile that thinking straight does not come to him at all.

 

Then, as if a sudden force moves him, he gets up and rushes to the bathroom, and breaks the promise that he made to his dearest. The sight of the dripping blood, as he slips against the bathroom wall, calms him, so much that he barely notices the tears in his eyes and the tears on his cheeks.

 

He has always been good at pretending. Perhaps he can pretend to be alright, too; for as long as he’s alive; which he hopes isn't long.

 

O0O0O

 

When he hears the doorbell ring for the fifth time, he decides that he cannot ignore the call anymore. Though he always believed that one cannot tell their anxiousness and frustration through the doorbell, listening to ring it again and again makes him realise that perhaps he was wrong about that, too. He sighs, wraps a bandage around his ankle, where he cut himself earlier, and gets up. He winces a little in his step, but by the time he reaches the front door, he pretends that everything's alright.

 

He opens the door to find Sehun on the other side; wet like a puppy under the powerful shower of the rain, and almost lost but still so cocksure and controlled that Jongin barely feels comfortable in his own skin.

 

Sehun raises a hand in the air, a bag in his hand. *I brought clothes with me" he says for the explanation, "to change," he adds, drily.

 

"Why did you come here, Sehun?"

 

"I think we both have lost someone," he says for another explanation; "you a lover, and I a brother. I want to have someone around."

 

"You have an entire family with you!" He snaps, angry and upset, confused too for he doesn't know why and how Sehun can play with his emotions and sentiments like this. "You don't have to laugh at me--or accuse me. Go away." When he moves to close the door, Sehun stops it with a heavy arm. He doesn't allow Jongin to move at all. "What is wrong with you!" He sobs, stepping back.

 

"I have a family. You, on the other hand, don't."

 

"That matters to you because?"

 

"Because you mattered to Chanyeol a lot, more than any of us did." Sehun steps inside the apartment. "I think you need company, if you don't want to do something silly to yourself." He pointedly looks down at Jongin's ankle, bandaged and glaringly obvious.

 

Jongin, feeling shame creep up his spine, turns around so that he can avoid looking at the face of the other man. "Don't pretend like it concerns you whatever happens to me."

 

"It mattered to Chanyeol, though. His essence lies in you. I cannot let you die; the only person Chanyeol loved so much."

 

"You are drunk!" He exclaims, too confused to justify this man's words.

 

"I am not."

 

"You so are."

 

Sehun stumbles in his next step, and thus proves his point. "Alright. I am." He sighs, and turns to look out of the window. "It's raining cats and dogs."

 

He remains silent.

 

"I am sorry, about Chanyeol," Sehun starts all of a sudden. "You should have been informed right away." He sighs and turns to him. "Did you eat something? I bought food for us." When Jongin remains silent for a longer second, he asks, "what are you thinking?"

 

"I don't know. I am just wondering if you're alone, too. Or if you're just pathetic but are good at pretending."

 

"Like you?" Sehun bites, tone scathing.

 

"Get out of my house, you miserable piece of !"

 

"I bought some food. Do you want to eat it with me, or somewhere away from me?" He tries again, as he shuffles through the bag. "Maybe I should just get changed instead. I will get sick otherwise." Without a given warning, he starts changing in front of Jongin. Jongin turns, shamed instead of the man who should be, and remains so even when Sehun tells him he's safe to turn around.

 

Sehun seats himself on the living room couch, acting as if Jongin has welcomed him in the first place. He makes himself at home, and Jongin feels a searing anger burning in his veins. This is wrong. He wants Sehun to leave. He does not want him around. He does not, not anymore. Not when he remained missing when Chanyeol needed him, or when Chanyeol was abused in his own family and Sehun had remained silent because he could not speak against the wishes of their parents. He is a hideous, useless opportunist. Jongin hates him.

 

However, looking at him and knowing that he has no intentions of leaving yet, he grabs his phone from the table and proceeds for his bedroom. "Maybe this is why Chanyeol hated you!" He shouts in silence. When he turns to look at the damage he believes he has done, he finds Sehun's lost, but glaring eyes fixed on him. The anger remains, and so the fire on his tongue. "You know how much you've hurt him when he was alive, pushing me to my limits won't bring you in his good graces, Sehun."

 

"He was my brother. I loved him," he answers, almost mechanically; as if he has said those words so many times to others, but has only given bleak answers in return; and perhaps the emotion of such words have lessened; perhaps he needs to see his brother to feel the intensity of his love and admiration for him; but dead don't come back, and he seems to understand that better than most.

 

"You showed that so well, didn't you? When he needed someone familiar, you were never there. Then I came, and he never needed you again. That angers you, doesn't it? He was your brother, and yet you treated him worse than you can your enemy. I didn't even know how you looked until a month ago--you, who is his brother. Shame on you. Stop pretending. Leave already."

 

Sehun's hold on his spoon is shaking, his whole body is in fact; as if he's holding back himself from a tumultuous emotion that would not only swallow himself but everything around him, too. "You are saying all this because you want me out of here, don't you?"

 

He presses his lips in a thin line. "I am saying this because Chanyeol said everything to me. You have hurt him, Sehun, nothing that you do will ever bring him back in your life. Certainly not pretending to help me so that I don't die here. It's useless.

 

"Chanyeol was exhausted by your behaviour. I wouldn't judge him for anything, because I have realised he was right about most things. Leave me alone to wallow in my misery, it is my fate to grieve for everything and everyone for my whole life."

 

"Do you want to eat or not?" Sehun asks, drily, and goes back to his food. His frame still shakes, but otherwise he looks contained. Jongin notices no other visible effect on him; nothing but his dry humor.

 

"Does that not affect you at all?" He asks, surprised, confused, and a thousand times exhausted; “what I just said, what you should listen and pay heed to? Do you not hear me at all?”

 

“Don’t be hurt. You’re not special.” He drinks his water and looks up at him. “How about you get your goddamn beauty sleep, sweetheart. I can manage everything here, since it looks like you really don’t want to eat anything.”

 

Shocked, Jongin remains standing where he is.

 

Sehun stretches on the couch, eyes on him. “I think I am hurt that Chanyeol left. It’s--exhausting, to think he left, without a word, without a scolding. I should like to bring him back to life only to kill him again for doing this. To me. To you.” He tilts his head to the side, an insufferable curiosity on his lips. “They say company in the times of grief helps. Do you want me to take you to bed? I can do that, you see. Because I am pretty sure you’d spread your--”

 

Not wanting to hear what he has heard a thousand times by now, he turns and leaves the living room. He closes the door to his bedroom with a resounding bang, and hopes Sehun knows that he disgusts him. Later, when he remains wide awake, curled on the sudden too big bed, without the presence of his lover, tearful and with a heavy heart, he hears sobs from the living room; it’s painful to hear them; they sound broken, bereaved, exhausted, and a hundred times regretful. Hurt, he believes and decides that Sehun deserves it; for what he has done, and what he hasn’t.

 

O0O0O

 

Sehun is two months younger than Chanyeol, and has spent most of his years in either Romania or Sweden. He is twenty-eight years old, has studied law, then business, then fashion, and finally engineering--Jongin, in fact, even after all these, considers him an idiot. Because he is. Until a few months ago, he was not even sure if the brother Chanyeol sometimes talked about was blood related or not. The distance between the brothers was huge, and still seems like it cannot be helped. Despite being brothers for twenty-eight years, Chanyeol’s love for his younger brother diminished quite a lot long before he stepped a foot inside his life. After their relationship started, Chanyeol barely needed his brother and his family in general; when he did, they were absent.

 

Sehun is barely familiar to him, all he knows is what little Chanyeol told him; since living overseas came faster than it did for Chanyeol, he is more open, non-compromising, blunt, rude, cool, aloof, and a womanizer. His ways and his nature have brought shame to the family a lot of time, but being the youngest he has been denied of the disapproval that Chanyeol often received for small mistakes for he was considered mature. He is not soft-spoken, and he looks for opportunities in everything and everywhere; he has failed several times in his academics, for he failed to understand the importance of what he was doing even though it was he who chose them; he drinks; sometimes plays cards with his just as rowdy friends; and, last but not the least, he respects none.

 

The first time they met, Sehun cooly passed him a look, eyes lingering every inch of bare skin, and asked his older brother he understood why Chanyeol took so little interest in the family matters. Chanyeol seethed at his blunt disregard of boundaries and disrespectful words, but Sehun left long before he was finished. He knew by then the brothers were not on good terms. They left the family gathering in less than an hour after their appearance, for it was meant for a family and Jongin was not a part of it. The words spoken were rude, and the jeers disgusting. He was in tears, and Chanyeol was barely contained. Chanyeol soothed his wounds, he Chanyeol’s, and thus when they tumbled into the bed together, they felt complete.

 

After that, Sehun’s appearances were small but occasional; it was as if he was intentionally trying to get close to him. He often thought that perhaps he wanted to talk about his brother, apologise for his behavior, and make up for the lost years. But, he was not. His appearances were made just to remind him that his eyes were always fixed on Jongin, and he knew Jongin would leave his brother any time and he was waiting for that time so that he could have him, too.

 

He seemed disgusting then, he seems disgusting now. Nothing has changed, or at least nothing that he has noticed. It has only been two days since his fiance's death, and yet he’s here doing things that he knows would upset any living being.

 

The night, still in mourning, seems long to him. He remains wide awake, heavy hearted, crying and sobbing on his bed, and so does Sehun on the other side of the door. For a moment, when it feels unbearable to even accept what has happened, he gets up from the bed and rushes to the bathroom to throw up. Tears cling to his eyelashes, face remains flushed, and breathing remains uneven. His body shakes in tremors, and his heart remains heavy. Chanyeol barely answers his cries, and the night remains brutally long; it's cold too, it feels at least, in the middle of August.

 

He gets up, avoids looking into the mirror, and washes his face, makes sure there are no tears. He promises himself that he won't cry, he tells himself that it has already happened and Chanyeol won't return anymore, and yet when he comes back on the bed, and lies down, the heart remains heavy, and the tears return.

 

Why is it always him?

 

O0O0O

 

The next day, Sehun wakes him up with some insistent knocks on the door, and asks him if he wants to go and visit Chanyeol--where he was buried. He swallows the chill that runs down his spine at the thought; so cold he feels, and so scared that he refuses with shaky breaths. He slams the door close on Sehun’s face, and remains curled on the door, crying and sobbing, for the next few hours. Sehun, surprisingly, breathes on the other side of the door, and remains standing and seated there as if hearing a call that’s not meant for him. In the afternoon, when he finally comes out, Sehun invites him to eat lunch with him because he has bought food again. He refuses, and gets back to cleaning his apartment.

 

Jongin does not know him, if he’s to be honest with himself; Sehun is a stranger to him, he does not even know him as Chanyeol’s brother; even as brothers they were strangers to each other, what is Jongin to him then? The answer, Jongin believes, is nothing. He is nothing but a constant reminder to Sehun that he was who Chanyeol wanted and desired, and he was the only one who he liked and adored, rest were nothing but reminders of the failed relationships. He wipes the dirt on his overall, and furiously wipes a stubborn ink on the kitchen counter; he remembers how it came there, however he refuses to bring them in actual thoughts knowing completely well they would only bring more pain and hurt than anything else. All the while, Sehun, like a lazy opportunist that he is, lies dead like a log on the living room couch, eyes on him. Jongin pretends to not notice his stare.

 

“If,” Sehun beings, much to Jongin’s chagrin, “Chanyeol were alive, you two would have been married by now,” he finishes lamely. Jongin staggers in his movement, tears return to his eyes and the heaviness too. He refuses to turn around. “You know who would have been the happiest had it happened? Chanyeol. He loved you like a thirsty man looking for water in a desert--take Sahara Desert, the largest one that there is.” He rests his cheek on his fist. “Chanyeol loved you like a starved man, too. I could see it. It’s a pity that you two will never be together.”

 

Anger floods his veins, and so does helplessness; when combined, they become a mess of jumbled, spiteful, and venomous words, “it’s a pity you’ll never be able to apologize to him. That is sorrowful. I hope you live in regret for the rest of your life.” He throws the dirty cloth away, and stalks his way to the extra bedroom. He should begin there, at least he would be away from Sehun and his nonsense.

 

“You have not eaten anything,” Sehun calls after him, and sounds just the slightest bit affected by his words. When he does not answer, he follows after him. He barely stops himself from crying out at him; he can, he will start crying, and he will ask for his neighbour’s help if he needs to, if only it means Sehun will leave him alone. “At least eat something. You can work after that.”

 

Why does he care? He thinks, furious as he tries, and fails, to not give him the attention he’s asking for. “I am not hungry, alright. Just leave me alone.”

 

“You have not eaten anything since yesterday,” he reminds, now sounding frustrated. “Come on, don’t waste my time. Eat it already.”

 

"I said, no. Leave me! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!" He cries, and throws a dirty cloth at the other man. Sehun does not move, but he looks affected by his outburst. "I don't want you here, don't you see it? Can't you see it? I don't want you here. Bring me back Chanyeol. You, leave! Bring me Chanyeol! I will eat then. Leave if you can't."

 

Sehun rolls his tongue against his cheek. "You know that's not how it goes," he says instead. "You can't bring the dead from the dead."

 

"Then leave! Leave me alone!"

 

"I am not going to leave until you eat something," he says, and his voice sounds like he does not mean any argument. "Eat, and I will leave. For now. Promise," he adds, as if knowing that may help his case.

 

Lost and unsure, and wanting Sehun out of his house, he grabs the small container from Sehun's hands, and eats whatever there is. He chokes on his tears and on the food, but he eats. He cries, but he hopes Sehun would leave. Then, on his last bite, he throws up everything. Then starts crying all over again.

 

Sehun, all this time, stays standing at the door, and watches him make a mess in silence. Jongin notices nothing but restlessness on his face--or maybe that's just him. Not Sehun. He wouldn't know. He doesn't know. He wants Chanyeol back. That's all he knows.

 

When he curls in the furthest part of the room, hands in his hair tugging on the silky strands because it's so unbearable, this truth, Sehun asks, "are you done?" almost cruelly, he believes. He gives a sob for an answer. Sehun sighs, turns around, leaves the room, and comes back with a wiper. He cleans the vomit. There's no expression on his face; not even of disgust that Jongin expects him to feel. When he's done cleaning it, he brings a dirty but small bucket and a bottle of water, and asks him to gurgle and spit into it. He keeps crying.

 

"Look, this--your mouth will taste nasty otherwise. It's for your own good. Do it." When he keeps crying, Sehun sighs and crouches in front of him. Sehun brings a hand to Jongin's cheek to wipe the warm tears. He does so, with the back of his hand, almost like a lover. Jongin feels disgust at the comparison. "Just do it, Jongin. You will regret it later."

 

He pushes his hand away and gets up from there. "You don't need to patronize me. I can do it on my own."

 

Sehun winces at the bluntness, and then grins. "Aw, that's my big baby now."

 

He does not hear him, and leaves for the bathroom. He closes the door after him, lest Sehun gets the idea that he's allowed to come in there too. He comes anyway, but stands on the other side, and to Jongin it feels like he’s breathing down his neck. He cringes and avoids looking into the mirror when he washes his mouth and then his face. It does not only taste bad, his mouth, but unfairly deserving, too. He tries to not think of that, and keeps his eyes down on the running water. His hold on the sink shakes, like it has for a while now, and his mind feels hazy; not in the moment, because being in the moment means accepting what he does not want to. So, he swallows down the bile threatening to come out, and washes his face again.

 

He runs a hand on the golden bangle, smooths it with the delicate fingertips, and almost sobs at the hundred different memories that come with it. He wonders if he would be able to wear it for long, after what has happened, without breaking down over and over again.

 

Sehun slaps his hand on the door. "Jongin!" He shouts, "is everything okay? You okay? Do I need to come in--"

 

He snaps his eyes shut, a headache is on its way. Why can't this man leave him alone? He has been here for a long time already. He doesn't know him. Is that not enough for him to throw this man out, and keep the door closed on his face for the rest of his life? He sighs, and rubs his hands under the running water. Perhaps he can ask him why he is sticking around when he doesn’t need to. It’s not like he’s helping; he’s just a reminder of what pained his fiance, and that--should be enough. Reluctantly, he allows himself to look into the mirror, and what he sees does not surprise him; shamed, embarrassed, hurt, and fearful, he quickly looks away and does not dare to look back. His breathing feels heavier, and he thinks he needs to stop looking at himself altogether.

 

Sehun knocks again, insistently. “Hey,” he calls, voice booming and sending shivers down his spine at how similar it sounds to Chanyeol’s; “you okay in there? Do I need to come in? Do I need to break the door and come in? What is it--why are you not saying anything? Should I worry that you're silent--oh.” He stops only when he opens the door. “At least give replies, it otherwise.”

 

He leaves, Sehun follows. “Did you cut yourself again?”

 

The way he says it--it’s rude, disrespectful, and Jongin can’t imagine if he’s even laughing in his head when he says those words. Is it so funny?--that he harms himself; is it funny enough to entertain a fully grown man? He tears up, but says nothing for a while. “Shut up!” He shouts when Sehun repeats his question.

 

“I don’t mean anything wrong with it, Jongin. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

 

“Why does it matter,” he cries and turns around. Sehun stops too. “Why does it matter to you? Why can’t you just leave me alone already? I want you to leave! I want you to leave me. I don’t care. I don’t care about you or… anyone else for that matter. Chanyeol is dead, and I… get that--” he sobs--“so leave me alone now. He’s dead so it shouldn’t matter anymore. I never did anyway, so why are you still here?”

 

Sehun presses his lips in a thin line, and stays stubbornly silent.

 

“Seriously,” he cries, “why do you hate me so much? I-I don’t even know you. You don’t know me. So, leave. I won’t kill myself, alright. Promise. But, leave already.”

 

“Hey,” he says finally, “I just asked if you cut yourself. I asked because my mother says you have a tendency to go to extremes to grab attention--and that Chanyeol only loved you because he thought of you as a hooker--”

 

Jongin smacks him hard across his face.

 

It silences Sehun for a while. “Ow,” he finally says, “that freaking hurt.” He looks down at him, barely furious; his eyes glint under the lighting of the glaring sun, though--and Jongin doesn’t know what to think about it. “What was that for?”

 

“Get out!” He screams, crying out next, “you all are the same. Get out!”

 

“I never said I believe what they say! I just said what they call you--”

 

“Get out,” he cries again, “get out. Get out. I don’t want you here at all.” He sobs and takes a few steps back from Sehun. He wraps his arms around his waist, and makes sure to keep his head down lest Sehun notices the pain in his eyes and finds a reason to laugh at him, in front of his face or behind his back. “Just go away,” he repeats weekly.

 

Sehun sighs and stalks close to him anyway. “Hey, I didn’t mean it that way. I promise I am not that much of an idiot.” He towers over him. “I am sorry, it wasn’t meant to come out like that.”

 

“Yeah. Fine. Now leave.”

 

"I am painfully honest," he tries again, sounding weak and resigned, "I was worried. Perhaps that is why it came out like that."

 

"Yeah, leave," he sobs, weaker this time. "Just leave me alone."

 

Sehun takes a step further, and leaves mere inches between them. "Jongin," he begins once more, and brings a hand up to perhaps touch him but stops before he actually does so, "I didn't mean it like that. I am sorry."

 

"Why are you even here?"

 

"I am just making sure you stay safe, I guess."

 

Jongin knows he's hiding something; what? he has no idea. However, he has always been curious, so he prods further. "You're not telling me the truth. Why exactly are you here?"

 

"I told you."

 

"No, you lied, liar,” he cries, slapping the hand that comes for his cheek. “You are a liar! You are an opportunist, and Chanyeol hated you for exactly that! You know it, you know it, and yet you are here. Why are you here, just tell me so that I can move on with my life. Go away. Be with your family. They must be sad.”

 

“I can help you with the renovation?”

 

“No, I don’t need any help. I just need you to leave me alone. I don’t plan to do anything stupid to myself, but if you stay--if you stay, I will do something to myself.”

 

“Alright,” he says finally, and steps back, hands raised in surrender. Jongin does not look at him; and so does not notice the expression on his face; if he feels shame and embarrassment at the little reminder of what and how he remained absent when needed, he barely shows it through his words. “I will leave,” he adds, and takes a few more steps back. “I will leave, and I won’t come back. For now. But, I will keep checking on you.”

 

“Just leave,” he says, resigned. He knows Sehun will come back--he has always been annoying like that.

 

“Alright.” He nods, and walks to the door. “I am leaving.” Thus, he leaves.

 

Only when he hears the engines of a car roar, he falls on his knees and cries out at the mere, and sheer, sadness of his life; it has become such a routine, to cry, to think the same thoughts, and to get back again only to fall back on his knees and repeat everything all over again. It has become such a routine that he is… he wants to leave, too, if only to reunite with his lover and leave all the pain and the suffering behind in a dust, to save others the trouble and himself any guilt. He swallows, and then wipes his tears. Perhaps he can just go and work on his apartment instead. With that in mind, he gets up and leaves the room.

 

O0O0O

 

The first meeting with Chanyeol happened on a rainy evening; it had been particularly windy the entire day, black clouds dominated most part, and the weather forecast promised a storm ahead. Even then, he dressed in his scanty clothes; a crop top and ripped jeans; and set his way to the downtown, infamous for all sorts of wrong things; illegal boxing, and ion were just two of them. Now, why did he step a foot inside that part? he did not particularly know, except that he was in pain, and something in him asked him follow his guts and take the first step--to what, he knew not until much later. It was his sister’s fifth death anniversary, and doing all sorts of silly seemed the best way to avoid thinking about the only family he had lost all those years ago.

 

Dressed like that, he stepped his foot into Midnight Desires, and found less what interested him but more of interested people in him. He ducked his head, and remained in one corner of the room, and waited for someone to hit on him. Though many did, he refused them all, and, finally at the roar and loud cheers, stepped further inside, in a much dimly lit room and found two boxers, dressed inappropriately for a boxing match, in the boxing ring. It was then that he found Chanyeol, and remained there throughout the match. It was a bloody mess between the two brawny men, but Jongin enjoyed the flow and movements of one in particular more than of the other. When he came out as the victor, though it did not surprise him much with how much confidence this man excluded, he walked out of the ring, found him, and cornered him.

 

They did not right away get into tumbling on the bed, but they talked for a while, and when it finally seemed like it could not be controlled anymore, Chanyeol followed him out of the Midnight Desires and into his apartment half an hour away. Jongin had never felt the way Chanyeol made him feel that night; soft and rough with his hands and mouth, simultaneously taking pains on the thin line that separated pain and pleasure; enough to make him cry but just as enough to leave him breathless and desperate for more and more; which he did, his hands and his mouth were the most skilled that touched him, and Jongin had felt like exactly what Chanyeol wanted to make him feel: like a king so out of this world, that Chanyeol’s hands trembled when he held him.

 

The next day, in the late morning, when they finally woke up, it was hard to get up from the bed and leave the warmth that they both provided each other; it was perhaps only then that he noticed the bruises and the blood on Chanyeol’s sturdy frame, and decided he could do with a good cleaning. Thus, the next hour was spent helping Chanyeol, cleaning his wounds, and in making sure they were bandaged in all the right ways. They had lunch, then they kissed, and then finally, once again, slept together. By the evening, he could barely move without feeling the delicious ache all over his body, and Chanyeol could barely leave him and his mouth alone; his hands and his mouth were constantly on him, and thus they found a home in Jongin.

 

It was supposed to be a one night stand; however, both knew by the second meeting, the next week, that it was more than that. Meetings were frequent, and although it was all carnal desires in the beginning, soon it changed into something much more pure: love. Thus, within a month they were lovers and continued to be so for a very long time. There were troubles, and several fights; both intimate and familial; but, as cliche as it sounded when Chanyeol said it first, they were together and that mattered the most. He found out Chanyeol was not some poor alcoholic, but a man from a refined and famed family, but had serious issues with them; thus, he spent so much time in the fetid side of the downtown; to release the pent up frustrations, and pains that became just as much constant in his life as were in Jongin’s.

 

Perhaps that was what it was: they both had the same problems, and they both needed a saving from the troubled lives they lived, and thus found each other. After that, it was hard to let go, so they stayed. For each other; something that not many could relate to.

 

The first time Chanyeol found about his ‘obsession’ with harming himself was by their sixth month together; Chanyeol did not say much, but he looked pained. Though he helped him through his anxiety and depression, he asked Jongin to promise him not to do it again. Jongin promised that he would not, and tearful as they were they kissed and reconciled; it was perhaps the most romantic kiss that they shared until that very moment; where one understood the other, and respected it; respected what his partner was, his struggles, but still loved him like he did, perhaps even more than before.

 

O0O0O

 

It is that promise that he keeps breaking; and has broken the second time in just two days. He sniffles, and wraps the bandage around his hand, he can come with any excuse for this, that would not be a trouble. For now, he needs a distraction, and he finds it by buying all the necessary items for surviving; food, and food related items. He gets up, grabs his bag, and leaves for the supermarket.

 

The supermarket is much the same as it was once; nothing has changed, neither the loud and rowdy customers, nor the persuading shopkeepers; in fact, it seems like it has become messier than it was, and Jongin finds a comfort in it that he rarely finds anywhere for the past few days. He keeps his head ducked low, and makes his way to the store. He just needs to buy his stuff and remain unnoticeable.

 

He stepped into the store, head ducked low, and his hands trembled as he picked the vegetables and placed them in his cart; it must be the palpitations, he thought; the trembling comes and goes as it pleases. He pays it no more attention than he does to the people around him. His basket gets heavier as he fills it up, and he tries to pay attention to that instead. When he reaches the beverage section, and finds that the drink he wants is kept on the uppermost shelf, he pouts, saddens, and then remembers back to the moments when Chanyeol used to help him through it. He blinks, and moves away from there. He can do without it, he tells himself stubbornly. Stopping by the counter to have his bought items checked, he finds Sehun standing and, perhaps, waiting for him.

 

He sighs, dejected at the sight of him. He does not know if this man followed him here, too. He avoids looking at him. Sehun stands leaning against the counter, even when the cashier politely asks him to leave, because his items have been bought and paid for already. He stays standing, and his eyes never leave Jongin. Jongin mutely pays for his own items, and allows the irritated grumbling of the cashier to bring him away from the erratic breathing of his own. When he is done, he thanks the cashier, and leaves. Sehun follows after him.

 

“There’s a new restaurant here,” he begins, walking by his side, “and I have heard they serve the best. Wanna come along and try?”

 

“No, thanks,” he answers, and tries to side step him.

 

Sehun stops him. “Jongin,” Sehun says, “are you thinking about what I said?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, Sehun,” he says finally, defeated; “I have lost my fiance,” he voice breaks as he continues, “I have lost the only man I had in my life, and I heard it last. I want to be alone now, I want to be alone,” he repeats, accentuates the words with a tired, trembling voice, “why can’t you leave me alone?”

 

“Well, for one, leaving you alone won’t solve anything.”

 

“Following me everywhere like a dog won’t either!” He counters fiercely. “You’re just stressing me out.”

 

Sehun closes his eyes, and then opens them again. “Alright,” he says, “you want me to leave? I will leave.” He takes several steps back. “But, then, you know what.” He stalks towards him, and hovers over him, all huge frame and brawny appearance. “Then how would you know what Chanyeol said to me. The last time, I was there when he died, you know. He said something to me, how would you know?” He brought his face close to Jongin’s. “Don’t you want to know what your fiance said about you before he died?”

 

He trembles, eyes wide and watery. “What,” he asked in a breathy whisper, trembling more than he did in the entire day. “What did he say?”

 

Sehun scoffs and steps back once again. “Well, since you have asked me to leave, who would tell you that?”

 

“Don’t leave,” he begs, whimpering, and holding onto Sehun’s arm when he turns to leave. The thought that Sehun is the biggest slobbering, meanest person does not cross his mind anymore; for now, he holds the last words of the man Jongin loved so dearly with him. “Sehun. Sehun. Please. Don’t.” He stands in front of him. “Sehun, please tell me. Don’t hide it. I want to know what he said. Please, let me know.”

 

Sehun, cruel as he has always been to him, keeps his mouth stubbornly shut.

 

“You cannot be so unkind to me,” he cries, and drops his bag to grab both of Sehun’s hands. He shakes him, as if wanting to kick alive some humanity that must have been left in him for him. “Don’t be so cruel to me, please. You know,” he begins, sobbing and trembling and attracting the attention of the passers-by, “you know it’s hard for me; it’s so hard on me. This. Everything is. Chanyeol was… he is so precious to me. You must know that.Don’t hurt me this way. I will not be able to handle it, you know me. I will not. Please.” Begging and sobbing like this, he feels exposed; like so much of his controlled emotions have been exposed that he no longer understands the meaning of control; all he knows is that he left bare, vulnerable, wounded, and exposed.

 

Sehun swallows, a flush appears on his face when people whisper about him, and his uncouthness towards (what they suppose) is his boyfriend. He leans down, grabs the bag Jongin dropped earlier, and grabs the young man’s hand too. He drags him away from there. Jongin is barely able to keep up with his long, hurried steps. “You don’t have to act this way,” he hisses, and stops in front of his car. He opens the door and guides Jongin inside, though with slight unkindness. His ands are merciless when he slams the door shut on his crying face, before he hurriedly gets on his own side too. “You don’t have to react this way. You’re so… dramatic.”

 

Jongin trembles more and more and hopes Sehun would tell him already. He tells Sehun that, too, thinking and wondering if the older man knows what he wants to hear.

 

“This,” he begins, but does not finish his sentence. He grabs hold of the steering wheel, and drives without another word. When they reach Jongin’s apartment, he drags Jongin out of the car (because Jongin would not budge, with the way he’s crying), takes the apartment keys from the back of his jeans, and slams the door shut after them. He walks to and fro in the living room, hands behind his back as he mutters jumbled words to himself. Jongin stands crying beside the door, barely holding himself back from sobbing more. “This,” Sehun says again, “God, he shouldn’t have died. He shouldn’t have left you alone.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re such a mess,” he adds, furious. “You’re such a mess, such a child.”

 

He wrings his hands together, and tries to run for his bedroom. Sehun grabs him around his waist before he can leave, though, and nearly slams him hard against the wall.

 

“You don’t leave, do you understand me? You are going to listen. Stop crying. Jesus Christ, you cry so much.” He presses each word with every slap of his hand next to Jongin’s head on the wall. Jongin takes a little hold of him, and then trembles at the close proximity between them. “Look, I don’t have any intentions of hurting you. I never will, even in my drunken state, touch you if you don’t want me to.”

 

Confused with the words he is speaking, Jongin tilts his head and looks up at him. “What are you trying to say?” Even with the distraction to solve the story behind the words, his voice trembles and tears fall anyway.

 

“Will you listen? Just listen. Don’t speak. Don’t say anything.” Sehun closes his eyes, and begins once more, “I will never hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you--in fact, I don’t want to do anything with you, alright. Nothing that you do or don’t do concerns me, as long as you don’t harm yourself that is. You want to stay here, you stay here. But, I will come back and keep checking on you--”

 

Jongin, tired of the nonsense the man is spewing, tries to side step him. Sehun catches his wrist before he can.

 

“Where are you going? I asked you to stay.”

 

“You wouldn’t tell me what Chanyeol said,” he says, crying out loud, “and I don’t want to hear anything that does not concern him from you.”

 

Sehun balks, stares at him and the looks away. He takes several breaths, closes his eyes, takes another, opens his eyes, and then finally turns to him. His jaw is clenched, and his face is flushed; his hands are tightly fisted beside Jongin’s head, and with the glint in his eyes, he looks menacing. “You won’t like it,” he warns, “you won’t like it.”

 

“You don’t get to decide what I will like and what I won’t.” He slaps his hand on the man’s chest. “Step away.”

 

Sehun doesn’t. He stays right where he is, and remains calm for some long seconds. Then, in a breath, he asks; “Chanyeol and you were going to marry soon, weren’t you? None of us, by the way. Until he told us, that is.”

 

He shifts on his feet. It was a promise and decision made between the two lovers; they did not ask or say anything to anyone; they just wanted to marry. “No one deserved to know,” he answers, scathingly.

 

“Well,” Sehun says, impressed by his calm answer, “the media got hold of it anyway. They think this wedding--was planned by us. By the family, Chanyeol, and you.” He swallows, “and now that Chanyeol’s dead--”

 

“Don’t say anything,” he warns, and shoves him away. Sehun does so this time. “You… don’t say anything. Leave me alone.”

 

“We need to talk about it.”

 

“No, we don’t.”

 

“Jongin,” Sehun tries again, “it was his last wish, too.” It silences Jongin long enough that he continues, “he asked me to promise him--that I will take care of you. He asked me to take care of you. The media knows of a wedding. I cannot leave you alone.”

 

“You’re disgusting! Leave me alone, I said.”

 

“A wedding has to happen--and it’s between you and I,” Sehun announces anyway, with more force than necessary.

 

“ off,” he screams, “you leave me. I cannot let you use me anymore. Leave me, you disgraceful, disgusting moron.” He tries to walk into his bedroom, so that he could shut it down in front of this man’s face, but Sehun holds him back yet again, and this time does not allow him any movement. He grabs him and pulls him closer, their faces mere inches away. He trembles, and flinches when Sehun’s eyes fall over every inch of his skin, and stay a moment longer on his mouth.

 

“It is not I who wants it; Chanyeol wanted me to take care of you, and the media knows of a wedding that no more can happen because Chanyeol’s… because he’s dead. They’re waiting, the company is at all time high--it’s an opportunity for my family. I don’t want it either. But, it is necessary. You have to marry me; to fulfill both Chanyeol’s wish and the media’s expectations.”

 

“Sehun, back off.”

 

“I will do anything,” he says, rather desperately now.

 

“Sehun,” he cries, “leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

 

“I,” he says, tries again and swallows before speaking; “I will love you like Chanyeol did.”

 

He sobs. “Leave me alone, please.”

 

“Do this for Chanyeol, at least. He wanted to see you happy.”

 

“I can never be happy with someone like you!"