It's important when you're the heir to a fortune that you choose wisely when picking friends, or at least, that's what Sehun was taught.  He was taught from a young age not to trust anyone but those who deserved his trust, those who had something to offer besides just company and friendship.  So of course, it comes of no surprise that Sehun is picky about who he allows his family to hire as his bodyguards.  However, he only has so much pull with his father for certain people and everyone he meets just seems too incompetent or deceptive to be his bodyguard. 

Well, except him, of course, because Tao is different than the rest.  And unfortunately, as Sehun's dad makes very clear, he's not going anywhere.

Unlike the other guards, Tao isn't old and grumpy with a personality so grim and closed that Sehun has a hard time just standing beside him.  He's surprisngly young and attractive, all shades of dark and shaded in such a way that Sehun can't stop staring the first time they meet.  Where Sehun is as white as the fresh snow, Tao is every beautiful tan that Sehun wishes he could acquire in the summer.  His hair is naturally blacker than the night sky over a bustling city, eyes an unnatural shade of obsidian sharper than a piece freshly carved for use by a doctor.  And his obsidian eyes are just like scalpels, dissecting every situation with such pinpoint precision that Sehun dares hope he never has a reason to turn such a harsh glare on him. 

And yet Tao is different from the rest.  Not only in age and height--being just barely a centimeter, possibly two, shorter than Sehun--but demeanor and manner.  He is reserved, restrained, patient. Whereas the older guards tend to be picky about Sehun's behavior, scolding him for intentionally taking his sweet time, Tao is silent and still as he waits in the morning for the wealthy heir to clumsily get ready for school.  He says not a word and stands relaxed against the wall, eyes trained on the opposite wall, face so unfazed that Sehun sometimes wonders if he's ever paying attention. 

But it's ultimately his presence that is the most different from the rest.  He's intimidating.  Honestly, Sehun would never be afraid of the others.  Whether it be their age or physique, the others all came off as the typical type to watch an heir, the kind that know how to fight but are easily swayed by money and power.  Yet, the moment they're thrown into a situation that requires actual battle, they are on par as the ones they are against.  

Not Tao, though.  Sehun is convinced no one could ever beat him. 

Not because he's skilled or better trained but because he just has that air--the air of someone who will not fail at what he is tasked to do.  

It's only the first week since Tao was assigned to guard him, barely seven days of him and already Sehun is worked up and determined to defeat him.  Because Sehun is a problem child, a brat and an irresponsible heir who has better goal in life than to return the favor to his ignorant, neglecting parents.  And it's because of this, the fact he can't remember a single occasion when his father ate dinner with him or that his mother didn't defend the man, that Sehun makes everyone else's lives hell.  He needs an outlet, a channel through which he can release his built up stress and rage, and what better vessel than the stupid guards his stupid father pays to babysit and care for the troubled teen? 

But Tao isn't a babysitter.  And he makes that very clear before the first week is up.  

Sehun learns his lesson on the third day, unceremoniously being dumped in the middle of nowhere after purposefully leading Tao down a series of dead end streets.  Most of the others would've complained or scolded Sehun, but not Tao.  

He just disappears, leaving Sehun secluded in the middle of nowhere without an or any idea where to go.  He's lost and alone, two things he never thought he'd have the freedom to be and while one side of him appreciates the privacy, the other wishes Tao had at least led him home first.   

For once, the joke's on him, playing out with Sehun searching hours on end without rest to find a familiar road, becoming further and further frustrated the deeper into the concrete jungle he goes.  He refuses to give up at first, but that ends three hours in when he ends up breathlessly collapsing against a graffiti'd wall, in desperate need of reinforcements.  

He reluctantly calls Tao and requests him to come find him and rescue you him from this maze.  Thirty minutes of anxious waiting later and Tao arrives, black cat-like eyes amused on his blank, unreadable face.  Sehun dares to accuse him of leaving him for death, but Tao just stares blankly, not offering a word or apology.  Sehun desperately wants to hit him or complain but nothing comes out, nothing but silence and a couple bratty expressions. 

Tao wins that round, he gives, but this is war and Sehun never loses. 

Or at least, that's what he thought.  But Tao is slowly but surely destroying his concept or winning and losing, reminding Sehun that though he is wealthy and famous doesn't mean he's untouchable or invincible.  Each challenge and obstacle Sehun builds is easily surpassed by Tao and replaced by a puzzle or riddle so ridiculous that Sehun finds himself inevitably tripping over his own tricks and traps in the darkness left by Tao.  

But he never gives up or gives in, always finding some new way to challenge Tao's authority, and each time, Tao greets him with equal parts amusement and readiness.  

But readiness is one thing that neither Sehun or Tao really planned for outside of each other.  It's that lack of planning ahead that leads inevitably to the events of the seventh day.  

Like any other day, Sehun wakes up and takes a quick shower, prompted to hurry by one quick, heavy knock on the oak door.  That's a sign, a signal by Tao to make it quick or else have the lanky male barging in whether Sehun is or not.  The first day Sehun scoffed at the gesture, the next day he practically pulled a muscle rushing to get ready before Tao could ram through the door.  Today, though, he's quick enough to beat Tao and even earns an approving nod when he opens the door in his towel, already drying out his white hair. 

The Chinese bodyguard throws a pair of clothes at him, hand selected from his drawers to be both of status and yet inconspicuous to the outside world.  Tao is good at that, finding a medium between standing out and blending in.  He, himself, dresses in the perfect clothes to always catch Sehun's eye--fashionable clothes that are still flexible enough to allow him to breathe, but yet hide the fact he's actually a ing ninja--one second and then disappear into the crowds of black-toting strangers the next.  And he finds that same medium among the thousands of items Sehun keeps in his drawers, refusing to allow Sehun to leave the house withough pre-approval. 

And Sehun has learned by now to just go with it or else face being late and subjected to personal humiliation by his frustrated teachers. 

But today Tao is lazier about his choices, giving Sehun nothing but casual wear that makes him somehow appear almost normal.  It's the first time in awhile that Sehun has left the house in something besides fancy clothes and he admires it, the way the clothes fit to his slim figure and yet give him freedom to move.  And for once, he feels...normal, not the heir of some wealthy company that needs a bodyguard or protection. 

The two leave the house exactly fifteen minutes later, dressed like casual pals walking the streets of Seoul for nothing but kicks.  They look like school buddies, not master and servant or Handler and pet.  It's a change, one that somehow lifts the oddly palpable atmosphere that's been surrounding the two since the day they met.  And for the first time in a long time, Sehun feels the need to say something, anything, and engage this strangely beautiful and mysterious creature in conversation like a conventional adult. 

"I didn't know you owned something that wasn't black," he tries, knowing immediately that it sounds sassy and condescending but he doesn't know how else to speak.  And yet Tao sends him an equally condescending look. 

"You'd be surprised what I keep in my closet." Sehun momentarily stops, standing completely rigid on the sidewalk as he stares at the muscled back retreating from him.  He's surprised, dumbfounded because that's the first time Tao has ever responded to his comments, whether derogatory and insulting or not.  And suddenly, Sehun just can't keep the words in. 

He wants Tao to talk to him, to interact with him.  "Oh? Like what?  Do you keep frilly dresses or pink tutus?  Maybe a couple skeletons or something?" 

But Tao keeps his lips sealed, allowing only a quick, slight smirk to cross those tight lips before he turns back to facing front and continues the journey in his normal silent state.  

There's a stab in Sehun's heart right then, a moment of deep agony like a needle being driven further and further into his already aching heart.  He feels like he's finally getting close to someone, a someone who he doesn't resent or dislike and yet his only response is a tight-lipped smirk, the kind he always offered to those before this wonder before him. 

And it dawns on him, as it should've years before, just how problematic his behavior must have been.  

He sighs, pace slowly down as his eyes resettle on the pavement crunching beneath his feet.  His thoughts are troubled and disfigured, broken into segments focused on his immaturity and realization.  For the first time in years he feels real guilt and regret for his actions, feeling a growing resentment for himself and his own decisions.  It distracts him, him into the abyss of his own thoughts and blocking everything else out. 

Including the bright lights of the oncoming car.

And the screech of slamming brakes. 

The cry of horror that calls out from the crowd of people gathering. 

But it doesn't block out the sight of the body still and unmoving on the ground, blood slowly flowing out of wounds scattered about the bruised and broken body.  

Sehun can't help noticing that the ruby red of the blood matches so well with the dark hues of Tao's body or the fact they mix into a gorgeous pink when applied to his own white skin and locks.  And he notes that there's something tragic about the moment, the fact he can't tell where he ends and Tao begins, or which way is up and which is down.  And his eyes sting and burn, but then again, so do Tao's--a fact he sees from the obvious tears mixing with the red mixture accumulating on the ground. 

A dark hand reaches out for him at the same time a white hand does, the two meeting somewhere in the grey area that's ultimately consumed by the flutter of eyelids and the unbearable indifference of the unconscious. 

It's uncomfortable, in this solitude of darkness.  

It's unbearably silent and lonely, like an abyss but worse.  Because Sehun doesn't feel anything but the fact he's there alone and that it's empty, devoid of anything but him.  

But he can hear voices, thin and whispering in the darkness.  They're barely audible, hard to catch, but he can still make out the distinct sound of people, a comforting and somehow welcomed thing.  He can't distinguish who is speaking, but someone is and that is better than nothing...right? 

He follows the sounds, reaches out for them within the unending darkness.  At first they grow quiet and he wonders if he's going the wrong direction, but they suddenly return, loud enough he can even make out words and voices, instantly recognizing them. 

"...Shouldn't tell him." His father's voice says, a hint of deep sadness in his voice.  

"But sir, he deserves to know." Sehun doesn't know the voice personally, but he assumes it's one of his father's many personal assistants, one of the many he has made live's a living hell over his short lifespan.  

"Like he would even care.  They barely knew each other." 

"Sir, if I may--"

"You may not," his father scolds, earning a hitch from the servant. 

"But sir..."

"No buts, he is my son and I think it would be unwise to tell him."

"T-tell me what?" His voice is hoarse and it takes a couple tries to say the words in an intensity the human ears can catch.  he succeeds finally, earning the attention of the only two others in the room.  

His father stares at him in disbelief, eyes wide and round in fear or something close, perhaps surprise that Sehun pulled through so quickly.  His assistant, however; looks down and defeated, a pitying and sympathetic expression owning his features.  Sehun looks between them with what little strength he has before his eyes settle on his recovering father. 

The man's lips pull into a tight line, an expression so familiar, and yet, he can hardly put together from where he's seen it. 

Not that it matters.  "What happened?" He questions, trying to piece his memory together despite the blanks.  But all he can recall is a dark ruby red on top of black beside pink and white, both too abstract to form much of a real picture in his brain. 

His father once again purses his lips.  "You don't remember." He states, earning a slow nod from Sehun.  "Well, that's probably for the better." He says with a sigh.  "You had an accident, but you're fine now.  Your injuries were only minor, you should be out of the hospital within a day or two, after they make sure there is no permanent damage." Sehun glares at him. 

"You're not even going to tell me how I got here?" His father shrugs his shoulders. 

"What's the point? You survived, didn't you?"  It's harsh, biting and for once, Sehun doesn't hide the hurt. 

"Don't you even care that I'm in the hospital?" His father scoffs, looking him over with a dark, dangerous look. 

"Oh, I care, Sehun.  But I've been through much worse than seeing a son in a hospital bed to worry my head over it." The words clip deep but not as deep as the sound of the shutting door. 

In Sehun's head he sees the final connection, the final entryway between the two of them being sealed off and blocked, forever forgotten. It earns a tired and pained sigh from his chapped lips.  

The assistant sighs louder.  "Sir, don't listen to him, he's just upset--"

"He's upset?" Sehun explodes, head splitting with a headache as tears once again envelope his eyes.  His memory flashes with a picture, but it's not vivid enough to read and he quickly pushes it back with an angry snarl.  "What right does he have to be upset when I'm sitting here in bandages in a hospital?  Shouldn't he care that his only son could've died?" 

"Please, sir, calm down." The assistant tries, offering a pitying smile. 

"No, I will not calm down until someone tells me why the I'm in a hospital bed!"  Another sigh dusts the air before Sehun is interrupted from ranting by a sudden image of a face, cat-like black eyes and varying shades of tan on a face carved by the angels.  "And why are you here?  Where is Tao?  Where is my bodyguard?!"  The assistant in a breath. 

"Sehun, sir, I'm afraid I will be replacing Tao as your bodyguard from now on." 

"And why the is that?  You finally find someone who can handle me, someone who has the balls to actually stand up to me and you just toss him to the streets because of one dumb accident?  That's stupid, where is your decency--"

Sehun's mouth remains open despite the fact there are no more words coming out.  His face is turned away by the force of the hit and it take a second, but the hurt eventually sets in, hitting him like a truck. 

And then it happens.  The inevitable. 

He turns to the assistant, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.  But it's not his father's assistant looking at him.  It's his father, standing there with the most vulnerable expression Sehun has ever seen on a man, tears gathered in his eyes and lips trembling like a weeping child.  His hands are balled into fists, knuckles curled white over bone and his stature is more rigid than a stature.  He is clearly in deep emotional pain, but it's deeper than that. 

And Sehun suddenly has a revelation that has him shrinking back against his pillows when his father finally explodes. 

"Why did it have to be you?" He shouts, pointing a shaky, but accusing finger.  "Of all the people, why did he choose you?  He could've had it all, everything!  EVERYTHING! So why on Earth did he pick you?" 

"D-dad, I don't..."

"Of course you don't!  What influential leader would want his heir to know about his only competition for the throne?" 

Silence looms as Sehun lets that sink in. 

"Y...you mean...?" 

"That's right, Sehun." His father's eyes are dark with fury, pointed like daggers at him and it finally occurs to Sehun why his expressions seem so familiar.  A flash of Tao appears before his eyes and it makes so much sense it almost hurts.  

"Tao was your brother." 

"Was?" He asks, confusion playing on his face. "What do you mean he was my brother?  That kind of thing, it doesn't just leave some--"

"It does when one dies." The words are spat like venom, left to rot through the various layers of Sehun's conscience as his father throws a black cloth at his bed.  "Here.  Have that.  Let it be a reminder of the one that saved you." 

The door slams again before Sehun dares reach for the cloth, lifting it up to find the shirt Tao was wearing that day.  It's heavier and surface stains chip off of it as Sehun investigates the cloth.  He looks down at the chips on his covers, eyes widening when he sees the flecks of dark, dark red--the black remnants of dried blood.  

Tears sting the backs of his eyes, sobs trapping in the back of his throat as he stares at that one shirt.  

This, this garment was the last piece Tao had ever worn, that his brother had ever worn.  And then it hits him--

Tao.  His bodyguard, the one who left him alone on the streets but always cameback to find him. 

The Tao who taught him to shower quickly and taught him respect for people, the one who respected him. 

That Tao, the bodyguard he took for granted and fought desperately to control. 

That...that Tao...

Was his brother, his kin.  

And now he was dead.

Because of him.  

You'd be surprised by what I keep in my closet. And Sehun is, deceptively so, because who would've known that underneath all the black and silence, hidden deep in that never ending darkness, Tao was hiding a secret. 

A secret not even the closet could keep. 

And what irony, he thinks, that the one who dies, the one who bites the dust is the one who deserved the most to live. 

Sehun decides then, clutching that black garment tight to his chest, that fate is a cruel, cruel thing. 

And it always is the last one laughing. 

Because it always wins.