~~~

Did I really up that badly?

Jongin takes a deep breath before dragging a hand down his tired face, still huddled up against the wall while contemplating whether or not he should call a cab. Figuring it’s probably the best thing to do, since he figures he’s already missed his last bus, he moves to stand up, praying to God his leg muscles haven’t been reduced to a jelly-like mess.

He’s in the middle of getting up, in a squatting position, when all of a sudden, something jabs him right in the rib and he nearly jumps out of his own skin while simultaneously scrambling to get away from whatever drunk lunatic happened to stumble into and trip over him, all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace. Except he doesn’t get very far, considering the fact that whoever just walked into him just so happened to fall right on top of him as well, nearly breaking the blond’s spine in half as he tumbles back down on the cold, hard pavement and onto his back, and Jongin promptly lets out a low grunt from the excess weight when he feels somebody wriggle on top of him. It’s so dark Jongin can hardly see anything, so he opts to reach up and see if he can locate a bottle or a can (he figures all drunk lunatics carry a beer bottle around for some odd reason) that he can use as a means of self defense before he accidentally gets a shoe or a fist to the head.

In his half panicked state (since he’d rather not have an ordeal with some drunk, homeless man at 9:30 in the evening in one of the most terrifying alleyways he has ever seen in his life), Jongin does not, in fact, locate a beer bottle, much to his disappointment. But luckily, his hand comes in contact with something somewhat solid, something he assumes is a...thigh??? and he scrambles to move his hand upwards and a couple of inches to the right before proceeding to blindly deliver a blow (or a punch, as he’d prefer to call it) straight down. The next thing he hears before he proceeds to throw himself forward, given that the stranger is still on top of him and struggling for dear life, is a low hiss of pain and Jongin quickly scrambles to get as far away from the wall and somehow manages to locate and pick up his phone, which is probably broken, he figures, in the commotion.

The dim, useless streetlights do absolutely nothing to provide Jongin with the illumination he needs to see what’s going on in front of him but he figures he doesn’t have to. I fought off a drunk guy and that’s all that matters, he thinks before it suddenly dawns on him that the stranger, whom Jongin hears is rolling around on the floor in a fit of pain, could get up any second and chase him down the alleyway and do God knows what with him, and he bites his lip as he contemplates if he should run off down the street and hail a cab. He quickly decides against it when he realizes it could take up to half an hour for the cab to get here (at this hour, at least) and the drunk man on the ground will most certainly have gotten up, dragged him to the back of the alleyway and murdered him by then. He doesn’t know why he does it, Jongin figures the urge not to die became a tad bit too overwhelming, but the next thing he knows, he is, in an attempt to buy himself some time, charging forward into the darkness to deliver a second blow to the homeless man’s groin.

However, Jongin doesn’t get a chance to because the next thing he knows, he suddenly feels like a bulldozer has collided with his body (more precisely, his shoulder and waist) and he’s soon knocked off his feet by a strong, very strong, unknown force before his mind even has a chance to process what happened. He doesn’t get a chance to properly wrap his head around what’s going on until a sharp sensation of pain surges through his spine after he’s harshly slammed down onto the rough, uneven surface of the ground. He barely gets a chance to feel lucky for the fact that he landed on his back (even though it feels like his spine is seconds away from snapping in half, for real this time) and not his head, since Jongin is at least 101% sure that being roughly thrown onto his skull, especially at that rate, would no doubt shatter his entire cranium upon impact, when he suddenly feels a solid, heavy weight on top him and he promptly panics before proceeding to his leg upwards in a kicking motion, which is immensely difficult given the blackness all around him as well as the fact that the drunk, homeless man has nearly pinned the blond to the ground completely, so instead of successfully locating a groin, Jongin’s movements are reduced to ones that closely resembles a fish out of water.

Clenching his jaw when a sharp sense of pain explodes in his lower back (he can’t properly choke out any words because the excess weight on top of him is weighing down on his chest), Jongin suddenly thinks of all the possible things that could happen from here on, now that the drunk, homeless man, who is apparently much, much stronger than the blond had initially expected (for a drunk guy, at least), has got him tight in his grip. Jongin figures the man (who strangely enough, doesn’t smell like alcohol but the blond figures the panic that’s coursing through his veins is preventing his senses from working properly) isn’t at all pleased with getting punched straight in the crotch, which leads Jongin to believe that either two things could happen; he either manages to (somehow) distract the man and run away and call the police, or said man grabs him and drags him to some secluded place in the alleyway, and the thought of what could possibly happen in said alleyway is enough for Jongin to reach down and, after a brief struggle, grab the first lock of hair he can feel in a fit of blind panic before proceeding to roughly tug in an attempt to distract whoever’s on top of him while using his other hand to deliver a series of blind punches to what he assumes is their back.

It works, sort of, because the man moves enough for the blond to wriggle himself out of his grip, and the next thing Jongin knows, he’s scrambling to crawl away and stand up, which is proven to be extremely difficult given that his back feels like it’s been removed and twisted a few times before being put back inside of him, so he opts to crawl away on all fours down the path. If he gets a chance to, he figures he can notify the women inside the café about what's going on, but all his brain is screaming for him to do right now is to get away, so he proceeds to get on his hands and knees and crawl away, as fast as his lower body will allow. Jongin honestly doesn’t care if Sehun ditched him and ran away to some bar with those idiotic women; and in all honesty, Jongin doesn’t even care if Sehun thinks he’s strange and doesn’t like him back, all he wishes for at this point is for the latter to, somehow, return, save him from his misery and then be on his way to join his new love interest again.

Jongin barely makes it three feet when he suddenly feels a strong hand wrap around his ankle and he’s pulled down and onto his stomach so fast he doesn’t even get a chance to utter a single word, and the same feeling of blind panic overwhelms him when the stranger proceeds to drag him back towards him and he uses his free foot to kick blindly into the darkness, hoping to strike their face, but with no success. Shoving all thoughts of how on Earth a drunk man could possibly attack and strike with such startling precision, Jongin immensely regrets choosing to stay behind and sit by that godforsaken wall to begin with when he’s suddenly, and roughly, flipped over and onto his back again. He clenches his jaw when he averts his gaze and barely spots the dim, pink lights coming from the café only a few feet away in the darkness and desperately wishes his lungs would be able to handle calling for help (now that he thinks about it, he seriously wonders why the stranger, whose lungs are perfectly fine, Jongin assumes, isn’t saying anything or making any noise save for the occasional grunts and hisses of pain that emit whenever the blond successfully strikes). Jongin feels the stranger grab and pin down his shoulder against the pavement and he squeezes his eyes shut. This is it. This is where I die.

It’s not until he feels the same weight on top of him again that his senses - particularly his sense of smell, which seems to have risen from its temporary state of hibernation, without a warning, turn on like somebody’s pulled an alarm when he inhales and smells what he knows for a fact is Sehun’s perfume (seriously, he’d recognize that heavenly scent just about anywhere), and the next thing Jongin knows, he’s struggling, squirming and kicking for dear life as if a new form of energy has found its way inside his body. A red, flashing beacon goes off in his head and flashes at an alarming rate as he flails his arms around. So that explains why he seemed to just vanish into thin air.

Suddenly regretting staying back to tie his shoes in the first place, since Jongin figures not doing so would’ve possibly saved Sehun’s life, Jongin squeezes his eyes shut (even though he can’t see anything, he figures having your eyes closed while getting dragged into a dark abyss to meet your doom; where the body of your crush just so happens to be located, as well, feels a lot better) and braces himself, both physically and mentally, for the sensation of pure agony that will inevitably overwhelm him as he’s being dragged towards the back of the alleyway, past the dumpsters before being violently murdered and thus meeting the same fate as Sehun, a fate he could’ve prevented had he simply not chosen to stay back at the café for fifteen seconds and tied his godforsakenshoes (he honestly can’t help the few tears that flow down his face at the thought), which leads Jongin to believe that the stranger, or to be exact, his soon-to-be murderer, will be reeking of Jungah’s hairspray after he’s killed, and he doesn’t know if the thought pleases him or scares him to the bone. Being murdered next to a bubble tea café. What are the odds, he thinks to himself and nearly chuckles. At least Dae will have Baek by his side.

Jongin is seconds away from saying his final prayers when he hears something that nearly causes him to die of both fear and relief.

“...Jongin?”

It takes the blond a while to process the fact that he’d just heard his own name (he blames it on his pounding ead) and he has to blink a few times to reassure himself that he’s actually hearing somebody’s voice for real and not suffering from a concussion.

“Jongin?”

Jongin blinks. The large, uneven surface of the pavement is doing nothing to relieve the immense levels of pain in his back and he hisses inwardly. .

It’s not until he hears his name again, for the third time, a little louder, that reality hits him (or to be exact, crashes down on him) like a freight train and a bag of bricks at the same time. Wait a minute.

“Jongin!”

Jongin opens his eyes but he can’t see anything, and the bulb to the streetlight a few feet away is as good as burnt out. As much as he’d like to move his limbs, he can’t, and he doesn’t know if’s due to the fact that he’s spent the last five minutes crushed by what felt like an elephant or the fact that he’s so incredibly confused right now.

“Jongin. , is that you? Answer me!”

What. Swallowing a few times to hydrate his tongue, which is beginning to feel like sandpaper at this point, Jongin opens his mouth and is surprised when he realizes he’s able to talk without his voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard. “What?”

Jongin doesn’t even get to utter another word when he’s suddenly grabbed by the arms and he instinctively clenches his jaw to prepare himself for his doom. Just kill me, already, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. Don't drag it out.

Except he doesn’t feel himself getting dragged across the ground. Instead, he feels what he assumes is a hand on the side of his head. Great, break my neck instead. Awesome. .

“ing .”

Huh. Jongin blinks when the same hand suddenly caresses his face. What the f-

“Jongin, what the !” Sehun practically yells at the top of his lungs as he scrambles to get off of the blond, who instantly exhales in relief. “What the , what are you doing!”

“Uh,” Jongin mumbles as much as how lungs will allow before proceeding to sit up. It works, kind of, if he ignores the way his spinal cord protests when he does. “What.” His brain still hasn’t managed to fully wrap itself around what’s going on. What.

“I’m sorry- , oh my God, I didn’t know it was y- it was so dark, I couldn’t see, I thought you were a fire hydrant,” Sehun babbles, running a hand through his hair in frustration, voice filled with concern and guilt. “, , I can barely even see you right now, damn it, where are you, even? God, I’m sorry, I thought you’d gotten ki- , did you die-”

“What,” Jongin mumbles as he successfully, although with a bit of effort, manages to sit up straight. He scans his surroundings and is met with darkness, but despite that, he can still feel somebody’s presence. To be exact, Sehun’s presence, combined with the latter’s perfume, and all of a sudden, something seems to snap in the back of his head and the next thing he knows, his arms and hands are blindly scrambling to grab onto something, anything, and he quickly finds what he thinks is Sehun’s arm before locking his fingers around it. He lies there for a while, trying to hear his own thoughts over the harsh pounding of his head, and his eyes suddenly snap open when reality crashes down on him like a tidal wave, and he practically scrambles to get to his feet. “Whatthegoddamningwasthat!”

Sehun, who is equally confused, throws his hands in the air, even though Jongin can’t see it. “What in God’s name are you doing here?” he hollers and Jongin nearly winces at how worried he sounds. “What the - Jesus, Jongin, do you know how ing close I was to punching your goddamn face in?” he adds, dragging a hand down his own face. Jongin only blinks.

“Why the did you pounce on me like some sort of idiot!” Jongin yells and shudders when he thinks back to how he’d nearly gotten the wind knocked out of him when Sehun had proceeded to tackle him out of nowhere. “Learn to control yourself, for Hell's sake! You’re lucky my spinal cord isn’t fractured!”

“Well, for starters,” Sehun exclaims, “you punched me in the groin!” He growls in frustration.

“So you repay me by tackling me and nearly giving me a concussion?” Jongin hollers in both confusion and irritation. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he really did have a concussion. “You freaking tripped over me and landed on top of me and nearly caused my back to give in, I couldn’t help it, I thought you were a homeless, drunk guy and got scared! Jesus, I thought I was gonna die!”

“Still, why the hell’d you punch me in the ?!” Sehun exclaims in exasperation.

“I thought you’d beat me to death with a beer bottle or something,” Jongin hollers and instantly blushes when he realizes just how lame that sounded. “No, seriously!” he adds when Sehun goes quiet. “You know how drunk guys are sometimes! They’re aggressive and for no reason! I didn’t ing mean to do what I did, it was dark as hell, I couldn’t see ! Do you truly, honestly think I’d punch you in the groin if I knew it was you?” He growls in annoyance, his voice echoing and bouncing off of every wall in sight. “Have some common sense!”

Sehun sighs. “What were you even doing out here, anyway?”

Jongin freezes and is awfully glad Sehun can’t see neither the blush nor the dry tears on his face. “I, uh,” he stammers, racking his brain for an answer. “I was...waiting for you,” he finally says and blinks. “Hold on, where the goddamn hell were you?!”

“Whaddya mean?” Sehun exclaims and Jongin thinks he senses a hint of reluctance in his voice. “I was out here waiting for you!”

“Like hell you were,” Jongin scoffs. “I’d been out here for over fifteen minutes when you oh so kindly stumbled into me! I never saw you anywhere! Why didn’t you text or call me and tell me where you were?”

“As if, it’s dark as out here, I doubt you’d have seen me anyway,” Sehun retorts with a huff. “Jesus Christ, why didn’t you say anything when I...you know, yeah; why were you so quiet? You couldn’t have saved yourself a handful of injuries and simply said ‘Hey, Sehun, it’s me’?”

Jongin nearly cries (out of frustration or pain, he has no idea at this point). “You were like, on top of me and weighing me the hell down with that big- body of yours!” he yells and he’s awfully surprised nobody has come out and scolded them yet. “My entire chest was like, pressed in like, five inches, I couldn’t get a goddamn word out! Why didn’t you say anything?! You know, since your lungs weren’t on the brink of deflating. Oh, and that doesn’t explain why the you tackled me like some crazy goddamn lunatic; what’s wrong with you?!”

“It’s a little hard to talk when your feels like it’s been beaten to , but thanks for that,” Sehun huffs with an eyeroll, an eyeroll that Jongin, thankfully, can’t see. “And for the last ing time, it was dark as a motherer, I couldn’t see a goddamn thing, okay? And to answer your question, I was over there by the dumpsters taking a leak, is that illegal?”

“For twenty minutes?” Jongin huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and wincing when he accidentally rubs against a bruise. “Yeah, right, I don’t believe you, you’re gonna have to try again. Oh, wait, so you didn’t run off to join girlfriend, then?” he adds, seeing red for reasons he can’t explain. He figures it’s the aching in his entire body.

“Yeah, it takes a different amount of time for everybody,” Sehun says sarcastically. “The hell do you want me to do, drag you over there and show you my ing puddle of piss? Get real,” he scoffs before he suddenly goes (alarmingly) quiet. “...What did you just say?”

Jongin raises an eyebrow. “The hell do you mean?”

“My girlfriend?” Sehun repeats, mimicking Jongin’s voice, much to the latter’s annoyance. “The ing do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean, don’t play dumb with me,” Jongin retorts and ignores the feeling of agony seeping into his system and slowly replacing the feeling of pain. “The brown haired bimbo with the stockings whose number you oh so quickly snapped up,” he grits between his teeth, doing his best to calm his racing heart. He feels a red warning light flashing in his head but he’s honestly beyond the point of caring at this point. “Don’t bull me!”

“What, you jealous?” Sehun chuckles, making Jongin see red. “Well, since you spent about five whole minutes with your face pressed between her , I’d say you are, but what do I know,” he adds with a humorless laugh.

Jongin blinks. So he saw? “What the are you ta-”

“I saw you ogling her and her friend outside the café, you looked like you were eyeing her right there and then, don’t deny it,” Sehun says and Jongin grits his teeth in irritation. “Are you saying you’re pissed that I took her number for you since you were obviously uncomfortable beyond belief? Hell, you should thank me if anything.”

“Pissed?” Jongin repeats, blinking in awe. “Why the would I be pissed? And why the should I thank you? It’s not like you were bothered by it, anyway!”

“What the are you ta-”

“You’re Sehun, you’re Oh Sehun, you can get just about any girl to fall for you with just one glance,” Jongin yells, not even bothering keeping his voice down. “Why on Earth would it bother you? You’re practically an expert in hitting up women; hell, take those two behind the counter in there for instance,” he adds, gesturing at the café a little further away, even though he’s highly aware Sehun can’t see him doing so. “One look and they were practically on their goddamn knees!”

“That has nothing to do with me whatsoever, what on Earth are you saying?” Sehun asks after a while. “You’re jealous of my pick-up skills and wish you had them?”

Jongin bites his lip. “I wasn’t ing ogling her, you , I was ogling her goddamn ugly- stockings,” he grits through his teeth, completely unaware of the fact that he’s just changed the topic. “Why on Earth would I be-”

“Right, and that’s why you proceeded to stuff your face in-”

“She ing asked me to!” Jongin yells at the top of his lungs and fights back a sob. God ing damn it.

“She asked you to stuff your face in her-”

“She asked me to smell her clothes to see if she smelled like ing smoke,” Jongin snarls, balling his hands into fists. He suddenly doesn’t feel nearly as cold as he did only five minutes ago. “Her blonde of a friend was practically giving me the evil eye the entire time. Why the hell do you care, anyway? Oh, I see, because you took her number in hopes of meeting up with her at the bar and you’re envious of the fact that I got to-”

“Shut up!” Sehun roars and Jongin subconsciously takes a step back. “I didn’t take her ing number with the intention of taking her home and banging her, I took her goddamn number to save your from embarrassment, get it right! I’d never sleep with that bimbo; that poor excuse for a woman, you’re out of your goddamn mind!”

Jongin blinks, rubbing at a sore spot on his chest, which is threatening to explode from the overflow of emotions currently coursing through every capillary in his body. “Come to think of it, you’d probably sleep with that bimbo in the café-”

“Why the actual -”

“I’ve had a little birdy tell me you’re into blondes,” Jongin says smugly, ignoring the tearing sensation in his heart. “She was blonde, you’d be perfect together. Hell, it’s not like getting her would be a challenge, anyway, since you’re Oh Sehun and all.”

“Jongin,” Sehun says sternly, voice dropping two octaves, and Jongin almost flinches. “Stop it.”

“Hell, it was probably a good thing I went up there to clean her laptop instead of you since you’d probably-”

“Jongin, I mean it. Shut the up.”

“-ask her out right then and there-” Jongin doesn’t even get to finish his sentence when Sehun suddenly shoves him so hard he stumbles backwards. He doesn’t lose his balance, thankfully. When he finally processes the fact that Sehun just shoved him, intentionally this time, he grits his teeth in anger. “What the -”

“Stop talking like that!” Sehun shouts and Jongin thinks he sounds more distressed than angry, but he quickly dismisses it. “Stop it! You have no ing idea what you’re saying, Jongin, you bastard, so shut it!” He growls, running a hand through his hair. “See, this is precisely what I was talking about when we first sat down; you people have no idea what the it’s like to be me sometimes; just because I play football, and enjoy it, doesn’t mean I feel the urge to bang every chick I lay my eyes on, honestly, what the makes you think I’d do something like that? Junmyeon and Chanyeol, yeah, probably, but me? that. I know you don't understand, you never will, but for hell's sake; you think I enjoy being labeled as 'that one guy on the football team who's banged every girl in 10th grade and up'? does that sound mildly enjoyable to you? to not be able to form proper relations and whatnot since you're painfully aware of the fact that it's all gonna go to whether it works or not, simply due to the sport you play? Having people worship you isn't ing fun. You have no ing clue how it feels to be avoided simply because you play football and happen to look good, and you also have no idea what it’s like to only be appreciated and liked simply because you play football and happen to look good.” He pauses to take a breath. “I have absolutely no interest in keeping in touch with that girl, I blocked and deleted her number the very second she messaged me for the first time and I'd be more than willing to show you my block list if you don't believe me. I have no interest in banging neither her nor her friend, and especially not that rude- at the café. I don’t give a if you don’t believe me, and I’m not expecting you to either, but please, cut me some goddamn ing slack here because you have no idea what you’re talking about. Hell, if anyone's a womanizer it's you, y'know, considering the fact that you spend your time ogline woman after woman after woman while I make an effort to fend them off, at least, while you seem to be enjoying it, save for when she tried giving you her number but you still checked her the hell out. Hey, now that I think about it, you were blushing rather madly when you were standing next to that bimbo in the café; I wonder why that is. You know, at first I genuinely thought you were different, that you wouldn’t feed into this whole ‘what they say about footballers’ crap, and I thought I’d gotten through to you when I explained it to you in the café, but I guess not. A shame, really.” He growls in irritation.

Jongin blinks, still trying to process Sehun’s words, with great difficulty. “I, uh-”

“And this might come as a great surprise to you, which doesn’t surprise me,” Sehun continues, ignoring Jongin’s remark, “but I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”

Jongin’s jaw nearly hits the floor. Okay, he most definitely had not been expecting that. He'd never, ever believed the whole 'Sehun having slept with every single girl who comes up to him' thing going around at school, but he most certainly hadn't been expecting that. At all. In fact, part of him fights the urge to jump up and down in happiness. But he doesn't, and in his half dazed state, he swallows the lump in his throat, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “So wait. You're-”

“I’ve never had a girlfriend, every single little ing thing you’ve heard at school about me dating some bimbo is false, I’ve never had a girlfriend, ing hell, I’ve never even dated anybody before,” Sehun rambles through gritted teeth. “And before you ask, the reason I haven’t told anybody is because I know they won’t believe me, just like you, or simply assume I’m saying it to hide the fact that I am, in fact, dating, which I’m not, and which I never have.” He stops for a while to catch his breath, breathing a tad bit labored. “Call it what you want, but this is the truth, and how it’s always been, whether you want to believe it or not.”

Jongin swallows. His head feels like it’s going to explode any second and he seriously hopes it doesn’t. A sudden wave of empathy washes over him and he swallows again. Ignoring the painful throbbing in his chest, he presses his lips together when a thought suddenly hits him. “I, uh, why are you telling me this?” he asks after a few seconds, voice surprisingly low, given how loud they’d been shouting only seconds prior. “I mean...if you’ve never bothered telling anyone the truth before, since you know they won't give a , why bother telling me?” he adds, scratching the back of his head. An unknown sensation bubbles somewhere deep inside of him but he ignores it.

“Because,” Sehun starts and he quickly goes silent again. “I...don’t know, honestly,” he says after a while and Jongin ignores the feeling of deflation that settles in his gut. “I don’t know, just , damn it, God-” He hisses in frustration. “Do you have anything you’d like to settle before we continue?”

“Uh,” Jongin stammers, adrenaline slowly wearing off. He suddenly feels extremely cold and he seriously wonders where on Earth he’d left his jacket. Figuring it’s still somewhere by the wall, he curses under his breath. “No, I don’t. , man, I think you shattered my goddamn shoulder blade,” he mumbles, hissing a little. “You still haven’t answered my question, though, the hell were you doing over there by the dumpsters?”

“I told you,” Sehun huffs, although Jongin senses a hint of alarm in his voice. “I took a-”

“I don’t believe you.”

Sehun growls in irritation. “Why the were you in there for a goddamn year after I went out, anyway?”

Jongin blinks. “I was tying my shoes-”

“For fifteen minutes?” Sehun chuckles, voice laced with disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

“Why do you even care?” Jongin exclaims, dragging a hand down his face. He’s seconds away from bending down and vomiting again but he holds it in. God, why couldn't you just have been a drunk, homeless man and ing chopped me up instead, he thinks to himself. Would've hurt a lot less.

“Yeah, why do I even care?” Sehun scoffs. “I mean, it’s not like you spared me a single glance the whole time we were in there, anyway,” he adds. Jongin misses the way he swallows.

Jongin is silent for a while. “...Why the hell would you want me to look at you?” he asks, ignoring the unknown feeling bubbling in his chest.

Sehun audibly swallows and he hopes the blond doesn’t hear it. “Nevermind,” he says after a few seconds, voice back to normal. “Just...whatever,” he adds before turning around so his back is facing the blond. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Pressing his lips together, Jongin clenches his jaw when a cold gust of wind passes because God damn it, he really needs his jacket before his already bruised and injured muscles constrict and end up paralyzing him. “I still don’t get it, what were you doing by the dumps-”

“I was calling Junmyeon!” Sehun exclaims, his loud voice echoing everywhere. “I was calling and talking to Junmyeon, I was talking to my best friend, is that illegal? Am I not allowed to do that?” he adds, voice wavering slightly.

“Did I say it was?” Jongin retorts with a less than friendly scoff. His heart is racing a thousand miles per minute and he feels tears brim at the corner of his eyes, although he blames them on the ice cold wind. Another gust of wind passes and he instinctively wraps his arms around himself. Out of nowhere, he’s struck with the thought of walking over to Sehun, wherever he is, and enveloping the latter in a big hug to keep them both warm. The thought absolutely tears into Jongin’s already torn heart and he mentally smacks himself. Keep it together, moron!

“What were you doing, then? While I was over there?” Sehun asks after a minute.

Jongin’s eyes widen slightly. “Uh, what do you-”

“You said you’d been sitting over there by the wall for fifteen minutes before I...noticed you,” Sehun says and Jongin nearly chuckles. “What on God’s green Earth were you doing over there, while I was busy talking to Junmyeon?”

“I uh, thought you had left and ran off,” Jongin says lowly, biting down on his lip. “To join that girl, that’s all.” A tear rolls down his right cheek and he swallows the evergrowing lump in his throat. God damn it. Getting murdered by some insane homeless man would've tickled compared to this.

Sehun is silent for a while. “You- Okay, nevermind, we’ve already established that I’d never want to be within a three foot radius of her,” he mumbles before his a hint of confusion seeps into his voice. “Wait, you sat out here for fifteen minutes because you thought I’d left?” he asks and doesn’t see the way Jongin’s shoulders tense at the question. “Why?”

“Because.” Jongin swallows. Damn, damn, damn. He looks up and clenches his jaw before sighing. “I was talking to Jongdae.” He fears his chest might explode if he stands in the same spot for too long and he moves a few inches to the right, just in case.

“...Okay,” Sehun says, although it comes out sounding more like a question if anything. “You waited out here in the cold because you thought I’d left for some strange reason before calling your friend. If you thought I’d left, why didn’t you just leave yourself? I just….why?” he adds, a hint of distress and confusion in his voice. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Because I wasn't planning on going home brokenhearted!” Jongin blurts out at the top of his lungs before he gasps and slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening to an impossible extent.

It takes him a full minute to even process what he's just said. But when he does, he sees it. He sees it in front of him, the door Jongdae had been talking about earlier; Jongin sees it slamming closed, right in his face with no possible way for him to pry it open. A cold shrill travels down his back and his entire face seems to explode with a certain heat, and before he knows it, he feels a familiar wetness cover his entire face as hot tears quickly make their way down his already tear stained face. He feels bile rise to the top of his throat and he hurries to swallow it down before he can vomit all over Sehun, even though he has no idea where the latter even is. In fact, Sehun hasn’t said a single word in two whole minutes, which only makes the tears flow down the blond’s face even faster. He swears to God that if he were to puke right here, right now, it would most definitely not be due to hunger problems. 

Four years, Jongin thinks, trying to control the pounding in his head. Four years; he sees each one of them circle the drain one by one and he doesn’t even bother fighting back the sob that spills from his mouth and shatters the silence. At this point, Jongin is honestly beyond caring if it freaks Sehun out. In fact, the latter could run away right this second and Jongin would only be thankful, because the taller's presence alone is enough to make the blond's throat constrict.

Despite being fully aware of the fact that it’s pitch black outside, Jongin can’t help but reach up and cover his hands with his face, especially considering the fact that Sehun is standing right in front of him and is most likely staring him down. Sehun’s piercing gaze (still) is enough to burn holes in Jongin’s body, even in the darkness, and Jongin feels his palms grow wetter and wetter by the minute as he stands there, on the pavement, frozen in place, hot tears flowing freely down his face as he emits a series of loud sobs. He honestly doesn’t even bother holding them back anymore. In fact, he doesn’t even bother holding anything back anymore.

“Jongin,” Sehun says after a while, a long while, his voice making the blond flinch a little. “I....”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jongin chokes out as a tear rolls down his cheek and into his mouth, and he lets the saltiness tickle his taste buds before continuing. “But it’s true,” he sobs, “I’ve loved you for like, forever, Sehun, God damn it-” His sentence ends in yet another loud sob. He barely manages to choke out an audible ‘so ing long’ before he erupts into another series of loud, unbroken (and unattractive, he thinks) sobs. He truly, truly wishes Sehun didn’t have to find out this way and he curses the high Heavens. Jongin never really expected for him to be confessing to Sehun in the first place, ever, but he figured that when he did, if he did, he certainly didn’t imagine for it to be in the middle of a secluded alleyway in below zero degree weather, twenty feet away from a bubble tea café, only ten minutes prior to them practically yelling in each other’s faces. It’s so surreal and comical that he has to fight back a chuckle.

Jongin wholeheartedly expects Sehun to mumble something along the lines of ‘freak’ before turning on his heel and rushing towards the bus stop, which is why the shock that overwhelms his heart and nearly causes him to go into cardiac arrest when he feels the back of a hand sweep across his face, effectively drying his tears, comes as a great surprise, to say the least. What the.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” Jongin says, voice shaking much he's surprised he's even able to utter anything in the first place. “Since you’re so liked and successful and well known, even if you hate the attention, and I'm just kind of a nobody compared to you, and it’s just-” He pauses to take a shaky breath. “It’s just...I'm sorry, .”

Sehun waits until he’s certain Jongin has finished speaking before speaking himself. “I don’t feel sorry for you,” he says, wiping another tear from the blond’s face. “Hey, look at me.”

Jongin stills and blinks. What. Raising an eyebrow, he nearly chuckles, although it leaves his mouth in the form of yet another loud sob, much to his annoyance. Look at you? he thinks in confusion, but he looks up, anyway (not that he knows where Sehun is). It’s literally pitch black out, I don't even know where the hell you a-

His (mangled) train of thought swerves out of control and promptly crashes into the nearest platform when he suddenly feels something, which he can only describe as a pair of (awfully soft; surprisingly soft given the cold weather) lips, press against his mouth.

It takes Jongin's brain a painfully long time to comprehend what’s going on.

Even though the moment is oh so brief and Sehun pulls away less than three seconds later, Jongin feels his entire world, which has been spinning non stop since he exited the godforsaken café God knows how long ago, come to a sudden halt without a warning, and he almost worries his knees might give in and that he’ll end up tumbling down to the ground for the second time that evening. In fact, his world (and head) come to a stop so quickly and so unexpectedly that Jongin finds his hands scrambling for something to grab onto in case he was to accidentally lose his balance and topple over. He opts to grab onto the hem of Sehun’s jacket. He figures if Baekhyun and Jongdae had been here to witness everything, they’d both most likely pass out from over excitement.

Jongin’s heart is still racing and his head is still pounding, but for very, very different reasons this time. He’s suddenly glad he didn’t choose to walk over and pick up and put on his jacket, since he feels as if somebody has turned up the heat outside by at least a thousand degrees and he prays to God he doesn’t break out into a huge sweat on the spot. That’d be humiliating.

The second Sehun pulls away, Jongin feels something in his heart. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s something, and it’s there. Come to think of it, it roughly feels like something closing and the blond convinces himself it’s the door between him and Sehun flying open, and it sends a chill down his spine knowing he is, from now on, free to walk through said door whenever he pleases without worrying about it slamming in his face like he feared it did earlier. Now that Jongin thinks about it, he figures he might as well find a way to unscrew it from its hinges so it disappears for good, as well.

The minute the Sehun’s lips leave his own, Jongin tightens his grip on the taller's jacket when every single moment, from the day he’d first seen Sehun all those years ago up until today, suddenly crashes down on him without a warning, like a ton of cement and he hopes he doesn’t pass out from the rate at which his head is spinning. As much as the thought of standing in the same place for hours straight and reflect on every single Sehun related memory makes him feel giddy to the core, Jongin tries his best to shove them away for now because the side effects of standing in the zero degree weather without a jacket for over an hour is honestly beginning to catch up on him, and he slowly lets go of Sehun’s jacket before wiping at his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Sehun asks (in that voice- the voice Jongin has been used to hearing for so long - the honey coated voice that makes his heart skip a beat) when he feels, or rather, hears the blond walking away.

“Freezing, gonna find my jacket,” Jongin mumbles, clenching his jaw as to not let his teeth chatter. He inwardly curses when he realizes he has no idea where it is on the ground and he’s about to bend down and search for it (he makes a mental note to avoid his puddle of vomit, wherever it is) when he’s suddenly jerked back a little and before he knows it, his body is pressed flush against Sehun’s, the latter’s body heat doing wonders to heat Jongin up on the inside in just a matter of seconds. In fact, it seems to heat up his face, too, because the blond finds himself blushing, for reasons he can’t explain, as soon as he rests his left cheek (which is probably still wet, he soon realizes) on Sehun’s shoulder while burying the rest of his face in the crook of the latter’s neck. It’s warm, so warm and Jongin’s hands instinctively come up to wrap around Sehun’s waist (with a bit of hesitance, given that he has absolutely no idea if Sehun is comfortable with that quite yet or not, but he does it anyway; he figures he’ll have to deal with the consequences later) when he inhales the latter’s perfume, combined with his natural scent, which makes Jongin’s brain go haywire, with every breath he takes. His brain is still in the middle of processing everything that's going on but Jongin doesn't care. What he does care about, however, is that he's freezing, and Sehun is so warm and all he wants to do in this very moment is hold Sehun as close as he can and never let go.

The fact that they’d been screaming in each other’s faces merely ten minutes ago makes Jongin think he’s living in a dream and he actually does pinch himself to make sure he hasn’t, in fact, zoned out during an intense argument or, even worse, his own murder. It hurts like hell, as Jongin’s (embarrassingly loud and not so manly) yelp of pain would suggest, which he interprets as a good thing, no matter how much his right hand is aching.

He’d been so occupied in inhaling Sehun’s scent that it takes Jongin a few minutes to realize the latter has asked him a question, and he blinks before quickly snapping his head up like he’s burned his forehead on Sehun’s neck (which wouldn’t be all too far from the truth, given that Sehun’s skin is unnaturally warm given the cold, not to mention his coat doesn't have a collar). Jongin is eternally thankful for the fact that it’s pitch black  or else Jongin is certain Sehun would about the blush that’s quickly spreading across his face.

“Huh?” Jongin blurts out, mouth still tingling. A gust of wind passes and he squeezes Sehun extra tight. He doesn’t even feel it when it actually does pass by.

“What’d you just do?” Sehun asks in a gentle tone, right hand coming up to rest on the small of Jongin’s back. The latter blinks when it doesn’t, in fact, cause his spine to protest in pain and he figures it’s just a Sehun thing. It’s a simple gesture yet it takes every fiber in Jongin’s being not to scream out loud. He figures that’d definitely scare Sehun away for good.

Jongin blinks. He can’t think straight at the moment and he doesn’t know if he’s got his food deprivation or Sehun’s touch to blame. He settles for the latter. “Uh. Nothing,” he stammers, his blush only growing hotter when Sehun hums something in reply before he resumes burying his face in the crook of the latter’s neck. A thought suddenly hits him, however, and he slowly lifts his head. “Wait, hold on.”

Running a hand through Jongin’s matted hair with his free hand, Sehun merely hums a low ‘hm?’ in reply.

“Uh,” Jongin stammers, voice faltering a little. “Why did you, you know, do that?”

Sehun is silent for a while. “Do what?”

“You know, tackle me to the ground like you did earlier,” Jongin says, blushing, but genuinely curious. “I mean, people don’t just tackle others for no apparent reason. I mean, I know I uh, struck you...there and all, but still.” He clears his throat and blinks when Sehun chuckles a little. "Sorry about that, by the way."

“I mean,” Sehun starts, straightening out a lock of Jongin’s hair, “at first I genuinely thought you were a fire hydrant, which is why I didn’t say anything when I first ran into you. But it wasn’t until you, well, punched me there that I realized you were, in fact, a person. Now, I didn’t think you were a drunk, homeless guy but I was pretty cautious for obvious reasons, especially since I could barely see my own hand in front of my face.” He presses a soft kiss on Jongin’s temple before continuing. “As I was rolling around on the ground wondering what the hell was going on, I suddenly spotted your phone lying a few feet away and I sorta, well, panicked,” he adds sheepishly.

Jongin blinks. “Really?” he asks, trying to ignore the tingling in the right side of his face.

“Yeah,” Sehun chuckles. “Like I said, it was dark and I had no idea it was you and to be frank, I didn’t expect to run into you of all people at the moment, and in my half panicked state my brain somehow cooked up the thought that you’d been kidnapped, yeah, I know, it’s stupid as hell, but I was freaking out and wasn’t thinking rationally, not to mention your phone was just lying there, so yeah, that’s why I did what I did.” He pauses to even out a tangle in Jongin’s hair. “But like I said, I never, ever would’ve done so if I’d known it was you, but you already know that.”

Jongin is silent for a minute. “Wait, so you did that; nearly gave me a concussion, that is, because you thought I’d been kidnapped?”

Sehun chuckles. “M hmm. Well I mean, that’s one way to put it, I guess.”

Dear God. “Uh,” Jongin stammers, not knowing what to say. There’s a warm feeling bubbling in his gut and he fights the urge to break out in a grin. “Thanks, I guess?”

“To be honest, I should’ve figured it was you when you punched me in the groin earlier.”

Jongin blinks. “Why?” he asks, half dreading the answer.

“Well, you struck with force I can only describe as hockey player force,” Sehun says and Jongin chuckles because he definitely understands what he means - he isn't exactly terrible at slapshots, which require a handy amount of strength, if he does say so himself. “Speaking of which,” he adds, “I know it was you.”

As if you didn’t tackle me with footballer force. Tracing invisible patterns into the back of Sehun’s jacket, Jongin raises an eyebrow. “I know,” he says, a slight hint of confusion in his voice.

“No, I mean,” Sehun chuckles before running a hand through the blond’s hair. “I know you were the one who struck me with the puck all those years ago,” he says and nearly takes a step back when Jongin flinches in his arms.

Oh. . Jongin bites his lip as he feels his heart race. Fighting the urge to pull away and cover his face with his hands, he swallows. “H-how’d you know?”

“Junmyeon saw a lone person out on the rink before you slipped away and out of sight,” Sehun chuckles, pulling Jongin closer when the latter makes a second attempt to wriggle out of his grip in embarrassment. “You wear a jersey with the number ‘88’ written on the back, right?”

Jongin nearly cries. God damn everything. “Yeah,” he says as quietly as he can, hoping Sehun won’t hear him. But due to the dead silence of their surroundings, the latter does, much to the blond’s agony. “I didn’t mean to though,” he babbles, “I’m sorry-”

“No need to apologize,” Sehun chuckles. “In fact, I’ve known for quite a while,” he adds. “Two years, to be precise.”

Jongin nearly collapses in humiliation. Jesus, this just gets worse and worse. “Wait,” he squabbles, “then why’d you ask me about it in the café earlier?!”

Sehun is silent for a second before he lets out a loud laugh. “I wanted to see your reaction, if you remembered or not, which you most certainly did,” he snorts before shaking his head in amusement and pressing another kiss on the blond's forehead. “Your face, you should’ve seen how red it was, it was so adorable, man,” he adds and Jongin fights the urge to kick him in the crotch; his right leg is tingling to do so. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he’s in the perfect position to do that right now.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jongin mumbles, cheeks still burning (seriously, he’s extremely thankful for the darkness for concealing his red face). He’s silent for a moment, letting his thoughts wander and letting his brain process the fact that Oh Sehun has kissed him, thrice, and is holding him close like his life depends on it, right here, right now, before something hits him. “Hey, wait.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you think I’d been kidnapped, anyway?” Jongin asks, furrowing his eyebrows. “I mean…it’ so... far-fetched.”

“Well,” Sehun says, sheepishly, “I figure you’re not very...difficult, in that sense.”

Jongin blinks before his eyes widen. “Are- Are you saying I’d be easy to kidnap?” he exclaims in horror, feeling himself blush all over again. Great. He bites his lip when Sehun proceeds to nod. “Why?!”

“I figure all someone has to do is stick a cup of strawberry bubble tea in your face and you’d follow them around for hours on end,” Sehun snorts, barely able to stifle his cackle.

Jongin promptly lets out a squawk before kneeing Sehun in the groin.

~~~