Sehun has always loved poetry.

He's not the type of person one would look at and think wow he must be a poetic guy, mostly because he never bothered to tell anyone. Well, Jongin knows everything about him, but he's a sneaky bastard and Sehun doesn't really count him for anything.

He finds himself in the library, scrolling through book titles with his eyes until they land on the right one. He pulls out a book of poetry and decides that, if he has nothing better to do (which he clearly doesn't), then he might as well read. It was a pastime, at the very least.

He sees the words and they repeat senselessly in his mind, but their meanings don't sink in. He misses video games with Jongin and canned coffee and convenience store snacks and the freedom of a restricting life, if that made any sense.

These days, he is more melodramatic than not.

Pages and pages flip by with passing time.

"What are you doing?" Sehun looks up to see Tao leaning against the doorway.

"Re-reading old books," he says. His body involuntarily tenses up. He really needs to stop that.

Tao seems to sense the discomfort. "What is it? You're not feeling sick again, are you?"

"Don't worry about me." He tries to go back to his book, legs stretching out in front of him on top of the other armrest. He extends his body across the entire three person couch, with his ankles dangling over the edge.

Tao snorts at the remark because it's only natural that he worries.

It's his job.

He takes a seat on Sehun's legs, to the loud protest of the latter who yells at him, "Hey! What the- Get off!" Tao only laughs. It's late morning, the weather is clear, and the light outside is only intensified by the reflecting glare off of crisp, white snow. Can he help but feel a little uplifted? Sehun too can't help but redden at the sudden friendliness. He puts down the book, coughing awkwardly into his fist, and murmurs something about making coffee. Tao follows behind, the tiniest of grins on his lips.

What a mischievous day.

Tao hovers next to Sehun as he makes his coffee and pours it into the two mugs. Sehun's head would occasionally turn to him, his bangs falling over his eyes as he tries to give a scrutinizing gaze at the bodyguard.

"Cheery today, aren't we?" Sehun grumbles.

"Am I? I thought you were the one usually affected by weather."

"How would you know that?"

"Aren't we all?"

"Well, I have other things in mind."

Like how every second in or out of this house could potentially kill him.

"Really now. Like what?" Tao's startling gaze never leaves the coffee cup. Either he really needs his coffee or he's suspicious of the drinks Sehun makes. Sehun doesn't question it.

"Nothing. I'm going back to the library." He stands to leave.

Tao trails behind. Sehun sighs to himself. He thought he'd gotten used to it, but still, having someone on his tail all day is...unnatural.

Looking at the love seat in the center of the room makes his heart beat flutter. He takes a seat there, and Tao sits down right next to him. Sehun hugs his knees tight to his chest and picks up the book where he'd left it. 

Arrows red,
Strike us dead,
Heart deep in desperate moments.
Clock stilled,
Warmth chilled,
No pulse in winter torrents. 
Sadness tinged 
with deceit and 
anger,
Agony laced 
with mystery and 
betrayal,
Life is an essence of 
greed
and
wrongdoings.

"I don't understand how you can read a whole book of this." Sehun snaps out of his fictitious world to see Tao leaning awfully close to his face. He snaps back, shocked by the sudden intimacy.

"What do you mean?" Sehun almost stutters. He reverts back to his sitting position.

"Well, you have to take the time to interpret such lines. They don't give you meanings right away, they leave you to settle things on your own." He looks up at Sehun with such an innocent expression, Sehun has to hide his blush behind his hand.

"That's why I like them. I get it. You don't have to straight out say things like 'life ' and 'everything's boring' and...and 'i love you'. You can say them in ways with more intricate meanings." He says it all in one breath. Am I weird? He thinks. He puts the book down, but Tao stops him with a hand.

"No, no. I understand." Tao smiles. "You don't have to put it down just because I said that," he says with a chuckle. He tilts his head back on the couch and closes his eyes, apparently done with the topic.

Sehun revels the moment to take in Tao's features while he's not noticing. Pale skin on his neck, veins popping out around a bobbing adam's apple as Tao, presumably, gulps. A sharp jawline trails up to the four piercings on his ears, silver dangling in the light. His lips curve on the edges and dip in the middle, his straight nose, the dark shadows under his eyes, the long lashes that tremble as his eyes move behind thin eyelids. He eats in the details, wanting to get closer and see them at an even nearer proximity. All too soon, Tao's eyes open and meet his. He smirks, Sehun flushes, and things become very awkward. For Sehun, at least.

"Do you need something?" Tao asks. Sly.

"No. No, not at all." Thankfully, Yi Fan walks in, sparing him more awkward sputtering. His savior. He sighs in relief.

"Sir," Yi Fan calls to him from the doorway.

"Yes, Yi Fan?" He quickly sits upright, moving away from Tao and returning to his usual straight-faced self.

"Well, sir. Your mother left you a message." Yi Fan folds his hands behind his back. 

Sehun blinks once. Twice. He sputters out, "Pardon?" 

"She told me to tell you to 'take care of yourself', 'don't do anything rash', and 'we love and miss you'." Yi Fan's eyes seem to say I'm sorry about this.

Sehun's expression hardens. "That is all?"

The butler nods. "Yes, sir."

Sehun bites his lip. "Thank you, Yi Fan," he says, meaning to excuse him.

"Do you need anything before I go, sir?" Yi Fan asks.

Sehun remembers something. "Actually, yes. I'm afraid I left our drinks downstairs. Do you think you could bring them up for us?"

Yi Fan gives him a smile. "Why don't I just make some more for you? I'm sure your other drinks have already grown cold."

"That sounds great. Thank you."

"Of course." Yi Fan leaves with a bow.

Sehun waits until the door closes behind him before he slumps back into the couch, head in his hands, trying to sink into the plush. He groans. 

"Sehun?" Tao says to look at him. "Are you...okay? Was it the message?"

He groans again. "Let's not talk about it."

Tao opens his mouth to say something, only to shut it again. He doesn't want to press it. "All right."

Sehun pulls his knees to his chest, burying his head between them and mussing his hair. All he can think in the moment is goddamn parents and rather have no message at all. Anger clouds his mind. Here he is, stuck and alone, and yet his parents are free in the city, working and walking around, talking to people, living. Here he is. Lonely.

Well, not quite.

Tao is not spectacular with social conventions. Hugs are, apparently, a plus. Comfort is a plus. Ignoring someone is definitely not a plus. So he takes the option he thinks he must be mildly good at. He places a hesitant arm around Sehun's shoulders and gives him a squeeze. He rests his chin on Sehun's head.

"Don't worry about it," he says the one thing that comes to mind, "and just worry about yourself."

They remain silent after that, the air heavy with an irony they both can feel. But neither are brave enough to admit it.

"Thank you, Yi Fan." He says for the third time today. 

"Please drink it before it turns cold again, sir." Yi Fan tells him. Sehun takes a sip with a nod. The coffee is piping hot and yet the perfect temperature all at the same time. He savors the warmth it leaves in his stomach and notices Tao next to him staring at his cup with a certain wariness.

"Tao, it's going to get cold." Sehun beckons him to drink. Behind him, Yi Fan makes the notion to  leave, but remains in the doorway, a horrible look on his face. Of smug pleasure. Of unjustified victory.

Tao only continues glaring, realizing that Yi Fan is looking at him, and so is Sehun. "Yes. I know." He picks up the cup and drinks.

It's bitter, which is to be expected. What's that smell? He can't question it though. Sehun raises an eyebrow at him, about to question his hesitant attitude. Yi Fan simply turns and leaves.

The taste sticks and burns in the back of his throat.

Strangely enough, it reminds him of...

...How was he to know he had low tolerance to alcohol?

That's exactly it. He didn't have a way. He's underage, still barely older than Sehun, a high schooler. He's not even supposed to know the feeling of taking in alcohol, of drinking the addictive nectar.

It began with the first sip. That strange taste. He'd never had it before himself, let alone in coffee, a beverage he can say for certain he's familiar with. It had been peculiar, yet he'd felt as though he'd...sensed it somewhere before. Smelled? Tasted? Most likely not the latter. His memory, deciding to fail him rather than warn him, had let the first sip slip by.

The second sip, only encouraged by the vague impression that Sehun must have the same drink too, pressed him on. It was strong, that odd feeling in him. He had felt as though he were doing something morally wrong. Though what it was, he could not quite put a finger on it.

Sip after sip until the cup was drained and that's when he knew.

Alcohol. Strong alcohol, nonetheless.

You never know when the higher-ups want to test us.

Hardly the "higher-ups" if you do it yourself.

Bastard. Of course, thoughts don't come clear at this point. In fact, everything becomes quite blurred. He has the impulse to do something out of way.

So now he's here, on the couch, with a blond boy next to him who he finds he's quite fond of. But also a little...annoyed? He figures he should let go of sanity and see where this leads him. It's much easier to give in to delusion than to fight what is not real.

Sehun has a feeling his companion is not as he was...before. 

Though, before what exactly, he's not sure of. Tao's head is hung low, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in the air in front of him. He looks as though he's in a trance of some sort, battling out inner demons and contemplating life decisions.

When he raises his head, he stretches his neck up and tilts his head at Sehun with half lidded eyes and his mouth slightly agape. Sehun gulps. Neck veins. Adam's apple. Cold stare. 

Happy thoughts, he thinks. Big grassy fields and spring flowers. Birds chirping and sunlit meadows. Happy thoughts.

"Tao?" Sehun, though distracted, is worried somewhere in the back of his head. Tao seems to be acting a bit different and frankly, he's concerned. It makes him uncomfortable. People always change around him, without rhyme or reason. So then, who is this boy becoming?

Tao's eyes appear glazed over and and almost unconscious looking. Ever so slowly, his lip curls and he lets out a laugh. 

"Sehun," he slurs the 's', "you've no idea, do you?" He leans closer to the younger. "You're stuck up on your own fantasies." 

His language, his tone, his very persona. It screams red lights, warning signs, at Sehun. 

It tells him, Run.

"I... what are you talking about?" He falls back on his hands on the couch, crowding farther away from this unknown creature. All he can think is that Tao sounds rather informal.

Tao chuckles again, low and throaty, as he searches into Sehun's eyes for secrets. "Just what I said. Fantasies, Sehun. You're stuck." He crawls closer. "Don't you know?" Closer. "Everything you see around you is an illusion." Closer. "It's a pity." Closer. With every hand he takes forward, Sehun moves inches back to match his pace. "You look as though you have so much potential." Closer. "You don't know the hell I paid for this, don't you?" Sehun has run out of space on the couch. His hands are at the edge of the armrest, threatening to fall back. Yet, Tao moves ever so closer. "Came here for hell, and yet I started liking this idiot." 

Too close.

Inches -- no, mere centimeters -- away from Sehun's face, he can see that Tao's own is slightly flushed, eyes unfocused. He can feel something coming.

"What... are you going on about?" He needs to delay it, whatever it may be. "I don't know--"

"Sure you do," Tao interrupts. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." 

He presses his forehead against Sehun's, snarling like a beast.

All Sehun can hear is his fluctuating heart beat echoing in his head. It thunders in his ears, the ba-bump bump's deafening his ability to perceive any sounds except the words that roll off of Tao's tongue.

"And...," Sehun's words get caught in his throat, "and what is that?"

Their noses touch, as if foreheads wasn't enough contact for this conversation. Could he even call it a conversation? Tao lets out a breath and Sehun smells it.

Alcohol.

The boy's drunk. Positively hopped up on alcohol. But from where? To the extent of his knowledge, there is no alcohol in the house. Not a fancy old wine bottle, not a can of beer. His parents were always very pro-teetotalism (as in, they never drank), and the house was, and is, deemed clean.

"Pity," Tao says, "that such a pretty face might die so young." 

He says one last sentence, Sehun's eyes pop wide open, and that's when it happens. 

His brain must be malfunctioning. Not a single thought processes well enough to form sounds, words, or anything that would make sense to the least intelligent of human beings. Is he drunk too? Of course, then the first thought that is fully sculpted into his mind is:

What the ?

It's warm, that's one thing.

It reeks of alcohol, though that was a given.

It's soft, yet rough, because in the back of his mind, he knows this is it. He's gone insane. Quote-on-quote, bat crazy.

Because... because... Tao is... kissing him?

He's already wasted a second thinking all that. Another second he takes up to bathe in the glory of the moment, the feel of cat lips that fit perfectly on his own, pressing heavily, craving more. Two puzzle pieces that settle next to each other; yes, they fit. And this, this feels right.

It takes a third second for his eyes to close. A fourth for him to kiss back.

He's probably bound for hell after this. Taking advantage of someone who's lost his conscious, who's sunk under the influence. His head is too fogged up to ask himself how it all happened. He feels Tao let out a sigh and he shivers beneath him.

A hand holds his hips down on the cushion, the other hand tangled in his hair.

It's too much for him. All too much.

Half his brain wants his hands to reach up and wrap his long fingers around Tao's neck. Pull him closer. Physically ask for more.

The other half of his brain knows he's being a fool and commands him to stop. Now.

Stop, it tells him. You're digging your own grave.

He fights, he struggles. He pulls away. Panting. Tao stares down at him, already inching back, but Sehun vigorously shakes his head.

All the blood rushes to his cheeks as he realizes what he's done. He covers the lower half of his face with his hand, and pushes Tao away with a light shove on his chest. "You're," his voice cracks, "not really... you know. This isn't real. So... please. Let's get you to bed."

Tao simply keeps staring at him blankly.

Sehun tugs Tao off the couch and drags him along behind him to his own room. He's not allowed in Tao's, might as well keep him in there so that he can take care of him. He helps Tao under the covers, forces him to go to sleep, and escapes out of there. Shutting the door behind him, he sinks to the floor, legs weak as he is hit with revelation. 

His hand reaches up to touch his lips as he remembers the phrase Tao had said before...that. 

"And even more a pity that I think I love you."

Tao awakens with a jolt.

His head pounds furiously, hammering against his skull. He moans and brings a hand up to his forehead. He can see morning light outside.

He looks around at his surroundings and lets out a frustrated breath. Sehun's room. Again. Is he sick? Feels a little like that. The last few hours (hours? How long has it been?) are fuzzy to him. He tries to recall certain points in time, but he can't. He remember the coffee. Yes, that's it! It was the alcohol. He has a hangover, dammit. 

One day, he vows to himself, he'll get that  Yi Fan. 

For now, all he can feel is a sinking guilt in his stomach.

What has he done?

When night hits, Sehun climbs out of bed and out the window. Behind him, Tao is still knocked out from the questionable alcohol, something he'll ask about later. Up, up, up he climbs and takes a seat with his legs dangling between the rails like before. Minutes later, he hears Jongin come up. He sits besides Sehun.

Jongin looks lifeless. Dull, like a puppet. The only thing keeping him going are thin strings towing him along. Or glass, like a crystal vase. Holding water, life, for another flower, but only holding himself together. He's on the brink. And Sehun can only think of his own problems. He feels terrible to witness for himself that his life is not the only one getting out of hand. He turns to look at Sehun and attempts a smile.

"So," he begins, "what was your day like?"

He thinks it through.

Life is like a poem, he thinks. Words are to interpret. Situations are to be taken from different perspectives. Personalities are riddled with deceit and backstories. Sometimes, lies must be told to bring oneself to the end.

Sehun makes a sharp intake of breath before responding, letting winter air fill his lungs and cleanse him of grime. "Nothing," he answers easily. "Nothing. What about you?"

A/N Three words: I'M SO SORRY T^T For taking so long to update this time around, and for this entire chapter pretty much. The beginning was an excuse for me to revisit my old poetic writing styles, and the end was an excuse for me to move along their relationship... I honestly have no idea why it took me so long to write this UGHHhHhhhhHHhhHHhHhhhHhHHhHhh

Is this chapter short? I feel like I kept to my word count minimum but it still seems so short.... I'll have my editors/betas check it over when they can OTL

I hope this chapter made sense OTL

/crawls away into a corner to wait for feedback/

Oh! And that reminds me, thank you for 200+ subscribers OuO and 46 votes akjsdhiosghas wowowoow euehuehueheuhe thank you so much lovelies <3 I will do my best! ヾ(●⌒∇⌒●)ﾉ