T-Minus 46,646,000 Seconds

 

 

On December 25th, Sehun shows up at the school auditorium as promised. He arrives alone and empty handed, fingers buried deep in his pockets in an attempt to keep warm. Baekhyun had left earlier in the afternoon, meeting up with Chanyeol--Sehun thinks he likes Chanyeol more than he likes him now--and the dance team before the performance for some get-together.

 

Sehun wanders around the courtyard in front of the auditorium for a while, waiting for the doors to open. He sees people holding extravagant bouquets of flowers and idly wonders if he should've bought one too--just for appearance's sake--but he quickly dispels that idea. Giving Jongin flowers seems almost silly.

After ten minutes of standing outside and stamping his feet against the snow covered ground, the door finally opens and two theater tech students stand guard by it, collecting the ticket stubs. Sehun shuffles in behind a stream of excitedly chattering people and picks a seat somewhere in the middle, near the side hallways. He is alone anyways.

 

It takes a little while for the hall to settle down, but when it's finally silent, the house lights dim and a spotlight shines on the stage.

 

The solo opening performer is Jongin.

 

He's kneeling with one knee on the floor, hands at his side and head down. An ominous sounding music starts, and Sehun recognizes the solo cellist, Kim Jongdae, at the side of the stage, slowly building up a melody with a subtle crescendo.

 

Suddenly, cymbals clash and Jongin looks up, spinning into a standing position just as the music begins to pick up pace.

 

Sehun is swept away.

 

Jongin dances like he was born to do so. There’s a grace and underlying power in his motions that Sehun cannot describe--not in words, not in anything earthbound. He sits frozen throughout the entire performance, too awed by the fluidity lacing Jongin’s movements. He couldn’t do anything but marvel at how such a perfect human being can exist in such an imperfect universe.

 

Music echoes in his ears, but it seems drowned out by Jongin’s inaudible steps on stage. For a second, the world falls away, and reality seems secondary. For a moment, Jongin made up the universe, just like how stardust made up the universe.

 

There are a few more numbers--a few more solos--but Sehun thinks they’re almost banal compared to Jongin’s. There’s something fascinating about the way Jongin uses his limbs, the way he looks into the crowd like there’s something he’s trying to say with his body. It’s something exclusive to Jongin, and Sehun doesn’t think it has anything to do with training, or skills, or even talent. It has something to do with passion that burns ever brighter than fire.

 

 

After the showcase, Jongin spots Sehun in the crowd and smiles, making his way towards him. Sehun shrinks back a little,silently dreading having to talk to Jongin for some inexplicable reason. He unconsciously steps back just as Jongin steps forward, and he’s surprised by the way his heart pangs at the frown sliding onto Jongin’s face.

 

He gives Jongin an apologetic smile and is about to call out when one of the other dance team members slides up behind Jongin and throws an arm around him, whispering something in his ear.

 

Jongin’s eyes light up, and he pulls out his phone, grinning at Sehun mischievously.

 

Seconds later, Sehun feels his own phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees Jongin’s name flashing on the screen.

 

When he looks up, Jongin is smiling at him cheekily. Jongin waves before gesturing to his phone and turning around to blend back into the crowd.

 

“Hello?” Sehun says when he answers the phone, cringing when he hears the underlying hesitance in his voice.
 

“Hey, Luhan said he’s holding an after party at his house. Wanna go?”

 

“Um…” Sehun stalls, wracking his brain for a semi-polite way to decline. He isn’t a big fan of parties, especially those filled with people he didn’t know.

“For me?” Jongin whines childishly, laughter lacing his voice.

 

“I-I have to do my creative writing project. It’s like, my final project and I didn’t start yet.”

 

“You have an entire winter break!”

 

“Yeah, but you know I’m at writing.”

 

“Bu--”

 

“Sorry, Jongin. Maybe next time?”
 

Sehun sounds genuinely apologetic--he feels so too--but he almost wishes that Jongin will continue badgering him to go to the party, just so he feels that Jongin thinks he’s worth the time. Instead, though, he feels a sinking disappointment.

 

“Alright then,” Jongin’s voice says cheerfully through the phone. “I’ll see you soon?”

 

“Yeah,” Sehun says, swallowing thickly. “Soon.”

 

Jongin hangs up just as Sehun walks outside, a cold blast of air greeting him along with a click and the dial tone from the phone. It’s raining outside, slush painting the concrete a sickly grey tinged with bits of black, and Sehun sighs dejectedly, leaning against the school walls and fumbling with his phone to call his mother.

She doesn’t pick up, and after three tries, he gets a text message telling him that his mother is still at work, and that if it’s possible, could he hitch a ride home with Baekhyun.

 

He texts Baekhyun, asking him if he is free, and Baekhyun replies with a “nO AT AFTER PARTY WHY U NOT HERE.”

 

Sehun gives up on his friend and sighs once more, tightening his coat around him and getting ready to run towards the bus stop. He steps out from his safe little canopy of concrete and into the pouring rain, when suddenly, someone appears next to him with an umbrella held over his head.
 

“I decided I didn’t really want to go either,” Jongin says, wrapping an arm around Sehun’s shoulders and pulling him closer so they’d both fit under the umbrella.

 

It’s unfair, Sehun thinks as the two of them slowly make their way back to Sehun’s house, careful to step in every puddle on the way to splash the other person. It’s unfair how Jongin makes it so easy to fall and so hard to get back up and walk away.

 

The universe is flawed. The creation of human beings was a mistake, a silly folly of God’s that He had been tempted into by the connivance of Amusement and Curiousity--the fatal fault of all humans.

 

Yet, he is perfect.

 

He is perfect in the way humans are perfect--quietly and silently accepting of all their imperfections--embracing them and loving them.

 

He is beautiful in the way the rain is beautiful--immaculate raindrops dancing upon rooftops as they bid farewell to the warmth of the clouds.

He is loved in the way the Earth is loved--an impeccable, splendid robe of shining affection and gentility that flows with every step that he takes.

 

And so, I say, he is perfect, not because he makes up the Heavens above, not because he lights up the world, but because he is the cracked sun in my life, making up my heavens and showing me the light.

 

Sehun writes late into the night, sitting at his living room table, penning down words that seem to flow from his heart to his fingertips, never once passing through his mind. Jongin sleeps on the couch with a fleece blanket thrown haphazardly over him, after passing out from an intense battle on Super Mario Bros with Sehun pwning his nine games out of eleven.

 

Sehun is surprised at how easily the words come to him, how he doesn’t need to flip through thesauruses to find the right word, and how all he has to do is think of Jongin and how his heart skipped a beat when he appeared by his side, green Crong umbrella in hand.

 

He submits the essay to Mr.Wu that morning through e-mail. Sometime near noon, whilst eating semi-cooked instant noodles with Jongin, he receives a message back from Mr. Wu.

A-.

 

T-Minus 47,865,600 Seconds

 

The day before New Years, Jongin calls him out. They meet at the small park down the street from Sehun’s house, light snow swirling like glitter in the dim, yellow street lights. The scenery vaguely reminds Sehun of Narnia, and he half expects Mr. Tumnus to come skipping down the snow covered fields.

 

“How long can you stay out,” Jongin greets Sehun.

 

Sehun raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, I guess.”

 

His mother was working, as usual, and since it was still the holiday season, she probably wasn’t going to come home until three or four in the morning.

 

“Good,” Jongin declares, circling his fingers around Sehun’s wrist and pulling him towards the side streets.

 

They weave through alleyways for a while, with Sehun asking where the hell are we going and Jongin replying shush you’ll find out gosh.

 

They end up in front of an old six-story apartment building, front gate already rusting and turning green. Jongin reaches through the bars and pulls at the lock until the gate swings open with a loud screech.

 

“Come on,” he says with a wink. pulling Sehun up the dark, musty staircase. They jog up six stories, Jongin never letting go of Sehun as they ascend higher and higher.

They’re panting and heaving by the time Jongin wrenches open another door. A sudden gust of wind has Sehun shivering, and he realizes that the door leads to the rooftop.

He silently follows Jongin to the edge, leaning against the metal railing the same way Jongin was and follows his gaze to the sky.

 

The stars are beautiful.

 

“Wow,” he breathes, twisting around for a better look.

 

They’re silent for a while, catching their breath and simply relishing in the raw beauty of the sky so rare in a place like metropolitan New York.
 

“You like it?” Jongin asks after a couple minutes.
 

Sehun nods wordlessly. “I didn’t think you’d be able to see stars in the city.”

“I didn’t either,” Jongin replies with a smile. “But the sky was clear today, and this is the best view of the city and the sky.”
 

Sehun looks down towards the streets, and sees an array of twinkling city lights mirroring the stars above. It’s a breathtaking juxtaposition of society and nature--two worlds colliding, like the merging of Heaven and Hell, and it makes Sehun’s heart ache in the most primal way.

“Wow,” he repeats.

 

They camp out on an old, torn couch in the corner of the roof (“This is my secret hiding spot,” Jongin explains. “Of course I need a couch”) and Jongin procures a warm blanket out of nowhere. He spreads it over the two of them, snuggling dangerously close to Sehun so his breath tickled the nape of Sehun’s neck every time he exhaled.

“Here,” Jongin says, holding out a can of cider.

 

“Uh. Thanks.”

 

Sehun pops it open and takes a long swig, the cold fizz burning his throat but feeling especially nice in this setting. Jongin does the same.

 

They fall into a comfortable silence--one reserved only for those who understood. Jongin unconsciously lays his head on Sehun’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck, and Sehun doesn’t flinch. He stays there and lets Jongin’s warmth seep through his body and soul.

 

“Oh,” Jongin says suddenly, looking at his phone. He turns to Sehun. “Happy New Years.”

 

Fireworks explode behind Jongin and there’s muffled shouting from every corner of the city, but Sehun only focuses on the way moonbeams dance across Jongin’s chiseled cheekbones, and the way they render his dark hair half silver and half white, and the way they make him look ethereal--almost nymph-like--and how all of this is frightening him in a new way that he couldn’t explain and didn’t want to explain. It is frightening and exhilarating and so, so damned tempting all at the same time--like the White Rabbit that prompted Alice to run after him and fall into the tunnel that led to Wonderland, and Sehun very much so wanted to jump in right after her, to take a risk and maybe have something good come out of it.

But he was scared.

So, when Jongin leans in for a hug, Sehun shies away and curls up under the blankets, hugging his knees to his chest and brushing the hair away from his face. He smiles.
 

“Happy New Years to you too.”

 

 

We--humans--are so infinitesimally small compared to the universe.

 

 

“I swear to God, what do I have to do with any of this?”

Sehun fingers a stray piece of paper, rolling it around his finger before tossing it to the floor.

“Like, seriously. Why. Why am I here. Why am I part of your disgusting plan to confess to Chanyeol. Why do I care?”

 

“Because you’re my best friend,” Baekhyun deadpans, spinning around in his chair to stare meaningfully at Sehun, who was sitting cross legged on the floor. “And you care about my happiness and mental wellbeing.”

“Well….not real--”

 

“Yes, you do, now shut up and help me cut flowers.”

Sehun sighs and picks up his abandoned pair of scissors and resumes cutting green strips of paper. School is going to start the next day, and Baekhyun has decided with a tremendous bout of courage that he is going to confess to Chanyeol. Somehow, Sehun is roped into Baekhyun’s Confess to Chanyeol and Make Him Fall in Love with Me Plan, and he finds himself stuck in Baekhyun’s room cutting construction paper.

 

It takes a while for the two of them to make an entire bouquet of presentable paper roses, but they finish it well before midnight, and even Sehun is feeling terribly proud of himself.

 

He watches contentedly as Baekhyun attaches the flower petals to the stem, fiddling with his own paper rose that he had made just for the hell of it. It has an awkward color--a blue flower with a black stem--but it is the first one he’d made, and he’s quite pleased with it.

 

“Do you think he’d accept?” Baekhyun asks just as he’s tying the bouquet together with a piece of gold ribbon. “Or will he run away?”

Sehun lifts his head only because Baekhyun was finally showing some hesitance and fear. His friend is looking at him with wide, earnest eyes, biting his lower lip as he fumbled with the ears of the bow, trying to even the two out. It is quite a sight--the proud, almighty Byun Baekhyun looking like a typical high schooler in love.

Sehun scoots himself across the floor so he was right in front of Baekhyun and pulls him down for a rare hug.
 

“Of course he will,” Sehun says, finding that he believed in it himself. “I mean, you’re Byun Baekhyun. Who wouldn’t?”

 

Baekhyun laughs as he pulls away. “You think so?”

 

Sehun nods with mock solemnity, glad that Baekhyun seemed a little less tense and a little more relieved. He’s just about to flop back down onto the floor next to Baekhyun’s bed when--
 

“So, what about you and Jongin?”

 

Sehun freezes. “What?”

“Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on,” Baekhyun says accusingly, pointing the bouquet of flowers at Sehun. “The two of you are like this.” He crosses his fingers. “Inseparable.”

 

“Are you kidding me, we hardly see each other in school,” Sehun quickly retorts, shaking out of his initial shock and sinking nonchalantly onto the floor.

“Yeah, and when it’s break he’s at your house twenty-four seven,” Baekhyun shoots back. “You text him even more than you text me. You text him almost as much as I text Chanyeol!”

“That’s ‘cause he’s incapable of thinking on his own and needs help on his trig homework.”

 

“Right, so he texted you about how he really wanted chocolate milk this morning because he needed help on trig?”

 

“...Did you look through my phone?” Sehun says, largely unamused.

 

Baekhyun raises both hands in surrender. “Hey, I was right next to you when he texted you that.”

 

Sehun shrugs and grabs another piece of scrap paper, folding it in halfs, and then fourths.

“There’s nothing between the two of us, okay? Pure tutor-tutee relationship.”

 

Baekhyun raises his eyebrows disbelievingly.

“I swear,” Sehun says fervently. “Besides, he wouldn’t like me anyways.”
 

Baekhyun’s eyebrows rise even higher.

 

“Wait--”

 

“Not that I want him to,” Sehun adds quickly. “I’m just saying.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“Shut up and worry about your own problems, won’t you? What if the bouquet falls apart in school?”

 

“Duct tape. Lots of it.”

 

Sehun knows Baekhyun isn’t done with the topic yet, but he’s glad that his friend allowed it to be steered in a different direction. He know the “pure tutor-tutee relationship” is only a lie he’s telling himself so he doesn’t have to deal with the unsettling emotions that plague him every time Jongin crosses his mind.

 

The next day, Baekhyun swings by Sehun’s house six-thirty in the morning, hopping on one foot and repeatedly ringing his doorbell.

 

Sehun rides with Baekhyun to school that day, tuning out Baekhyun’s incessant, nervous chatter and staring blankly, instead, at the white covered trees lining the sidewalks. Even though it was a weekday morning and people should be commuting to work or school, the streets were remarkably quiet, probably under the influence of the silent winter.

“Oh my god oh my god why is he here WHY?!”

 

Baekhyun’s sudden outburst startles Sehun out of his reverie, and the car screeches to a stop some way down the street from the school gates.

 

“Uh. Are you going to park closer or…”

 

“Oh my god oh my god,” Baekhyun repeats under his breath, looking at Sehun with wide, semi-frightened eyes. “He’s right there!”

 

Sehun cranes his neck to follow Baekhyun’s shaking finger. He sees Chanyeol and a group of his dance team  buddies leaning against the school walls and brightens up.
 

“That’s great! You can get the confession over with,” Sehun says enthusiastically, moving to get out of the car.

 

Baekhyun grabs his arm and pull him back. “I’M NOT READY.”

 

Sehun shrugs. “Well, you’re never going to be ready, so why--”

“I planned it out so I’d confess during lunch, or after school, or something, but NOT N--wait what are you doing WHAT ARE YOU DOING.”

 

Sehun unbuckles Baekhyun’s seatbelt for him, taking the car keys out of the ignition and stuffing them in his own coat pocket.

 

“Come on, let’s go.”

 

He grins and hops out of the car, onto the ice-covered pavement. He circles around the car to a frozen Baekhyun and opens the door. Baekhyun springs back into motion when he feels the cold air and immediately moves to re-buckle his seatbelt. Sehun rolls his eyes and grabs the strap, stopping Baekhyun, and manhandles him out of the car.

 

“I WILL SUE YOU FOR BODILY HARASSMENT what do you think you’re doing, forcing me out of my own car????” Baekhyun shrieks loudly as Sehun locks the car doors and swings the keys around his finger.

“You tramp of a best friend, I’m going to muti--”

 

“Hey Chanyeol,” Sehun says, cutting Baekhyun’s tirade off and plastering on a smile.

 

Baekhyun squeaks and spins around, quickly flattening out his flustered hair.

 

“‘Sup Sehun, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol greets cheerfully.

 

“Hi,” Baekhyun says in a high-pitched voice, looking slightly hysterical.

 

Sehun bites back a laugh and shoves himself away from the car.

“Well, Baekhyun here has to tell you something… so I’ll leave you two alone now.” He pats Baekhyun on the shoulder before sliding past him. “Don’t forget your stupid bouquet.”

 

“What bouquet?” Chanyeol asks curiously.

“That one.” Sehun points at the paper flowers hanging limply from Baekhyun’s hand before chortling and waving, heading towards the school once more.

 

He settles in his seat for first period, Creative Writing, and fiddles with his phone, waiting for a text message from Baekhyun--either success or failure--but it doesn’t come, not even when the bell rings. Instead, though, Jongin texts him.

 

 

To: Oh Sehun

From: Kim Jongin

 

wat the hell why is chanyeol walking around with a paper flower bouquet? its falling apart lolol

 

Sehun quickly replies.

 

To: Kim Jongin

From: Oh Sehun

Does he like it? Is he looking at it with contempt or with fondness? By the way, have you seen Baekhyun?

 

To: Oh Sehun

From: Kim Jongin

 

ooooo so baekhyun gave it to him? yeah he likes it i think. he wont stop looking at it. and he has this really dumb smile on his face but he usually looks dumb so idk

 

To: Oh Sehun

From: Byun Baekhyun

 

AFGAFLKADSHFJAHDJKCHAJDHA <3

 

“Mr. Oh, although I’m glad you are so actively keeping in touch with your social circles, I’m going to have to ask you to put your phone away before I send it to the Dean’s office.”

 

Sehun looks up and sees Mr. Wu staring at him above his spectacles with a very unamused expression and smiles sheepishly, tucking the phone into his back pocket.

 

To: Oh Sehun
From: Kim Jongin

 

man chanyeol is so lucky :/ when r u going to confess to me?????

 

“Kim Jongin, put away your phone before I confiscate it, and it’ll stay in my desk for an eternity.”

 

“Whoops, sorry sir.”

 

Message Deleted.

 

Mr. Wu passes back an edited version of their final assignments, and when he reaches Sehun, he offers a small smile.

“Good job, Sehun. Great improvement. Don’t get me wrong, but I was quite surprised,” he says, handing Sehun his copy.

“Thanks,” Sehun mutters, pleased with the compliment and the A scribbled in Mr. Wu’s messy handwriting.

 

“Stay after class today,” Mr. Wu says just before he moves on to the next person. “I want to talk about your piece a bit more.”

 

Sehun nods, watching Mr. Wu walk down the aisle and comment on each paper individually. That is the thing about him--he always puts so much care into teaching his students. He treats teaching writing not as a job, but as a passion. Sehun wonders what it will take for him to find something he loved the way Mr. Wu loved literature.

 

After class, Sehun sits down in front of Mr. Wu’s desk, sliding his paper over.

 

“The thing about writing,” Mr. Wu begins, eyes tracing the words on the paper, “is that it isn’t just a course. It’s not just a grade, a mark on your report card, another box to check off to get into college. Writing--it doesn’t just teach you how to pen down words. It teaches you how to feel.”

 

He pauses, and looks at Sehun steadily. Sehun stares confusedly back.

“Do you understand?”

 

Sehun shakes his head slowly.
 

“This is the first writing assignment I’ve ever given you.” Mr. Wu flips open a manila folder and pulls out a sheet of paper. “And this is your semester final. Tell me, is there anything different about the writing?”

 

Sehun leans in for a better look, and he cringes as he reads line after line of his first assignment in Creative Writing.

 

“Uh….” He says when he’s finished, leaning back in his chair and eyeing the paper with distaste.

Mr. Wu smiles wryly. “A huge change, huh?”

 

Sehun nods.

 

“You see, the thing is, I don’t want Creative Writing to be Just Another Class for you, and I definitely don’t want it to be a burden. I want Creative Writing to teach you something outside of just writing--I want it to teach you how to feel,” Mr. Wu says quietly, smiling and putting both assignments back into the folder. “I keep all my students’ works because I like looking back and seeing how much they’ve improved--how much they’ve learned, not just about writing, but about the world itself.”

 

“Mr. Wu,” Sehun suddenly intervenes, curious. “Do you write?”

The sides of Mr. Wu’s eyes crinkle and he chuckles. “I did once. I wrote a lot--day and night. Never had time for anything else.”

“Then why’d you stop? Why are you a teacher?”

Mr. Wu pauses for a moment before he answers, “Because I found out that I didn’t just want to keep the beauty of literature to myself. I wanted to unveil it to others.”

 

 

T-Minus 32,140,800 Seconds
 

 

Macrocosm
 

(n.) the whole of a complex structure, esp. the world or universe, contrasted with a small or representative part of it

 

T-Minus 45,100,800 Seconds

 

Sehun strolls down the empty hallways after school, backpack swinging loosely from one shoulder as he jostles his book around in his arms, contemplating the talk he had with Mr. Wu.

He’d said Sehun has learned to feel.

 

Sehun wants to tell himself that he doesn’t know what that means, doesn’t understand where Mr. Wu’s coming from, but the truth is that he does. He knows exactly what Mr. Wu is referring to, even if Mr. Wu himself isn’t so clear, but Sehun refuses to rip away the rest of the veil to uncover the truth that had been hiding behind the dark velvet all this time.

 

He’s scared.

 

He stops midway down the hall for a moment, staring at the ceiling as if he expects to see millions of stars littering the cosmos. Empty white plasters stares back at him, and he suppresses a sigh as he resumes walking.

He’s scared that if he did rip away the veil, the truth would turn on him. The dove will turn into a vulture, circling around him and waiting for his moment of death to swoop down and peck at his carcass.

 

He pauses in front of the teacher’s lounge, one hand resting on the doorknob as he readies himself to enter.

 

Sehun’s content with living on the other side of the veiled arch for now, simply because it is easier. It’s familiar, albeit a tad mundane and suffocating, and comfortable, and that’s all Sehun needs. He does not need flaming nebulae teasing him from the depth of the universe. He does not need--

 

“What took you so long?”

 

The door opens in Sehun’s face, and he gasps and takes an unsteady step backwards. The books in his arms slip out of his grasp and he loses his balance. He feels himself falling and braces himself for the impact, but suddenly, strong arms wrap around his midriff and he’s pulled upright.

“Are you okay?” Jongin breathes, eyes wide with worry as he scans Sehun’s face.

He does not need somebody to care for him and worry for him and love him in ways he’s never been loved before.

“Yeah,” Sehun says brusquely, pulling away from Jongin. and picking up his books. “You surprised me. What are you doing here so early?” He glances at his watch. “Don’t you have dance practice?”

 

The two of them go back into the teacher’s lounge. “Nah, coach said we’re off today because it’s barely the first day back.”

Sehun hums a murmur of assent and organizes his books on the table, watching Jongin bounce excitedly up and down on the couch from the corner of his eye.

 

“What is it?” He asks finally, once he’s settled down and taken out his homework. “You obviously have something to tell me.”

 

Jongin grins and quickly slides into a chair next to Sehun, leaning in way too close for Sehun’s comfort.

 

“Guess what?” He says enthusiastically. “I got my trig final back today!”

 

Involuntarily, Sehun’s eyes widen. “And…?” He asks, waiting for the verdict.

“And….” Jongin reaches into his backpack and pulls out a piece of paper. “I GOT AN A!”

 

Sehun blinks and takes the paper from him, carefully looking through it.

 

“Holy ,” he says quietly after a moment. “You actually did.”

 

“I KNOW RIGHT?! That was my reaction too.”

 

“Wow,” Sehun says, feeling a little proud of Jongin and of himself.

 

“This,” Jongin declares, standing up from the table and pulling Sehun with him, “calls for celebration. Let’s go out to eat.”

 

“Wait, but homew--”

 

“Yeah, no, let’s go celebrate. I heard you got an A on your Creative Writing thing too.” Jongin smiles. “You deserve a break too.”

 

Sehun lets Jongin lead him out of the room and refuses to acknowledge the blush climbing up his cheeks.

He doesn’t need somebody to care.

He wants it.

 

“Last time I checked, you are underage and should not be in possession of any alcoholic substance save for medicinal products,” Sehun deadpans, eyebrows raised as he glares pointedly at the six-pack beer Jongin had lying beside him.

 

“Shh,” Jongin says conspiratorially. “It’s a secret.”

 

Sehun sighs and flops down on the floor beside him. It is his first time in Jongin’s room, and he’s shocked by how neat it is--almost a mirror image of his room. The bed is properly made, and the walls were plastered with posters of bands and self-taken pictures of Jongin and his friends. It looks surprisingly normal--just like every other teenager’s room.

“Did you think I’d have a volcano in my room or something?” Jongin says teasingly when he sees Sehun looking around.

Sehun nods. “Yeah, sort of. Thought you’d have a jungle or something.”

 

“Sorry, I’m not that cool. But, I am cool enough for underage drinking, so here.” Jongin passes a can to Sehun.

 

“Just so you know, I don’t think underage drinking is cool.” Sehun takes the can but does not drink from it.

Jongin sticks his tongue out at Sehun and leans back against the side of his bed, can teetering dangerously like it's about to spill over. He takes sips from it, staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face.

 

Sehun decides he doesn't feel like breaking the law today, so he places the can down and sits down on Jongin's bed. He bounces on the bed and looks around.

 

"So this is what you see when you wake up every day," he mutters quietly, tracing a line of desk on Jongin's night table.

 

Jongin chuckles. "No, I see the ceiling when I wake up. Also, I'm partially blind so all I really see is a white glob."

 

"You wear glasses?" Sehun asks. He looks around for a glasses case and spots it hiding behind the lamp.

 

The glasses are plain, wide-framed and a glossy black. Sehun is curious about how Jongin looks with glasses on.

 

"Put them on."

 

Jongin scowls playfully before lunging across the bed. The now empty can of beer tips over and clangs noisily against the leg of the bed.

 

"Put them on for me," he whispers, grinning at Sehun with slightly unfocused eyes.

 

Sehun leans back slowly. The proximity is getting uncomfortable, and Sehun feels a heat rise from the back of his neck.

 

"On second thought.... you probably have contacts on so it's a bad idea to wear glasses over contacts," Sehun says carefully.

 

He gingerly pushes Jongin away, and Jongin falls with a grunt onto his back. He rolls around a little, tangling the covers between him and Sehun. He closes his eyes and hugs his pillow against his chest.

 

"Are you drunk?" Sehun leans over and instinctively brushes the hair away from Jongin's face, noticing the way Jongin flinches from his touch. He draws back. "Yeah, I think you are. That was one can, dude."

 

"Shut up you didn't drink anything," comes the muffled reply as Jongin suffocates himself with his pillow.

 

Sehun moves to slither off the bed, but Jongin lightly grabs his wrist and pulls him back down.

 

"Don't leave," Jongin whines, tightening his grasp and tugging Sehun closer.

 

"I'm not. I'm just going to sit on the floor. And possibly pick up that beer can rolling around."

 

"Liar," Jongin says quietly. "You're going to leave and not come back just like everyone else."

 

Sehun opens his mouth to retort the comment, but there's something innocent and genuine in Jongin's voice, like he truly believed that Sehun would abandon him because someone had abandoned him before, so Sehun stays quiet. Instead, he wriggles around so he could lie down on the bed next to Jongin.

 

"Happy?" Sehun murmurs, turning towards Jongin.

 

Jongin cracks open an eye and laughs.

 

"Yes."

 

Jongin drifts in and out of a mildly drunken slumber, and Sehun lies beside him, not making any move to leave. It's comfortable--the warmth radiating off of Jongin's body.

 

Sehun observes Jongin's face when he's asleep, memorizing the sharp planes of his cheeks and the slope of his jaw line. He wonders to himself if someone as flawless as Jongin would even exist.

 

There's a childlike quality to his features when he's asleep, almost like he's gone back in time and lost the hard, worn maturity he'd gained over the years. Sehun finds that he likes it more--this nymph-like picture of naivety. It's so natural and chaste it's almost angelic.

 

Jongin wakes up well into the evening to find Sehun sitting up and looking at something on his bedsides table.

 

"Watchu lookin' at," he mutters, rubbing his eyes as he rolls closer to Sehun.

 

"Who's this?" Sehun asks quietly, pointing at a picture frame on Jongin's desk.

 

It's a picture of Jongin and two other people--one boy that Sehun recognizes as Chanyeol and a girl that Sehun finds eerily familiar.

 

Jongin leans over Sehun's body, comfortably placing his chin on his stomach.

 

"Friend," Jongin replies flatly before rolling back so he was lying next to Sehun again.

 

"Oh."

 

There's more to the story--he knows--but Sehun doesn't push Jongin for the details. He places the picture frame back onto the table.

 

"Her name was Krystal," Jongin says after a while, eyes staring at the ceiling again.

 

Something akin to a smile forms on Jongin's lips.

 

"We grew up together."

 

Sehun hums in affirmation. He recognizes the name--of course he does--it was the same name that was written on the bottom of Jongin's paper. That girl with stormy grey eyes and bent wings who swept away Jongin's heart before shattering it.

 

It isn't hard to tell that the story was a roman a clef--in short story form. The writing was too raw to have been something entirely fictional.

 

"We dated too," Jongin continues. "All through middle school." He laughs. "A bit ridiculous, no? I mean, we were like what, twelve, thirteen? But when you grow up together, things happen. Childhood crushes become something more, and it's almost like a fairytale come to life."

 

He laughs again, and Sehun cringes at the sound. It's bitter and pained, and it's agonizing hearing Jongin laugh like that.

 

"But you know," Jongin says, struggling to keep his voice light. "Life never really goes the way you want it to, and it always up, and then happens. like getting re-diagnosed with brain tumor even though the stupid doctor claimed the tumor was dormant ten years ago and like not being able to attend the first half of Freshman year in high school and being stuck in the hospital instead and like... like dying on ing Christmas Eve and not being able to celebrate Christmas, or New Years, or Valentine's Day, or Christmas the next year, or any other holiday because you're not ing here anymore."

 

Jongin's voice cracks before it trails off into an angry whisper, and Sehun reaches to touch Jongin lightly on the shoulder. He flinches again, but Sehun doesn't pull away.

 

"Sorry," he says softly. "For bringing this up."

 

Jongin in a shaky breath, blinking a couple times before turning to Sehun. He smiles.

 

"It's alright," he says, voice still a bit hoarse. "I would've been curious too."

 

Sehun can see the tears Jongin's trying to hold back, the wetness around his eyes that he's repeatedly blinking away. For some reason, there's a heavy feeling in his heart and he thinks that he hurts too, when Jongin's in pain.

 

He leans forward and brushes his thumb against the corner of Jongin's eye, wiping away the lingering tears. Jongin laughs, embarrassed, and crawls underneath the covers.

 

"You know, maybe you should just stay over."

 

Sehun raises an eyebrow.

 

"It's late anyways. And I have a nice floor."

 

Sehun gets off the bed and grabs his backpack.

 

"Kidding my bed's large enough for two."

 

Sehun ends up sleeping over, and the two of them half- their homework somewhere in the night before giving up entirely and passing out on the bed.

 

He doesn't comment on the way Jongin snuggles into his side, and instead, lets himself relax and sleep with the comfort knowing that Jongin was right beside him.