~~~

Sehun whirls around at the unexpected noise, only to bang his shoulder right into one of the cricket sticks and he winces in pain as his eyes dart around the room. His initial thought is that of an intruder or a first year who managed to somehow accidentally sneak into the equipment room for whatever reason, and Sehun scrambles for the light switch at the latter thought because he knows that his coach will definitely chew him out for letting unauthorized people into the room.  Except in his current state, he fails to do so and he swallows whilst furrowing his eyebrows. He's facing away from the door and staring at the back of the room and, if Sehun is going to say so himself, he really did a good job of hanging up the floorball sticks given the pitch blackness earlier. However, his proudness is short lived when he suddenly feels a strange sensation creep up on him: A feeling of paranoia - he feels watched.

Briefly blocking out the smell of rubber and wood, Sehun continues to listen to the sound of the phone ringing before slowly turning around. He doesn't know what he's going to come face to face with. Perhaps some random first year or his coach, Sehun isn't really sure. But nothing could ever have prepared him for the sight that greets him the second he turns around to face the door.

Given the darkness, Sehun can barely see him. But it takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust and he promptly feels like his entire chest is being repeatedly rammed with a sledgehammer when he blinks and lays his eyes on a familiar set of brown eyes and equally brown hair. It feels so surreal that Sehun finds himself subconsciously reaching out for something to grab onto for support in case he were to fall over in surprise. He finds nothing, though, and he opts to swallow and pray to God that he manages to stay vertical. He stands there, nailed to the floor, for what feels like ten thousand years and when a thick silence engulfs the room, which is starting to feel extremely tiny, Sehun wonders if he should get himself checked for schizophrenia, but he doesn't get a chance to contemplate it when he hears an all too familiar voice.

"Sehun?"

Jongin's voice is quiet, but not shaky, and he sounds confused, but not alarmed, and it takes Sehun a whole minute to even register the fact that he just heard his own name coming from Jongin's mouth. Sehun hears a rustling sound closely accompanied by the redundant ringing coming to an abrupt stop, and he grips his phone tighter as he keeps his eyes fixated on Jongin. Or the parts of him that aren't completely hidden in darkness, those being the latter's hair, eyes and cheekbones. Shoving the thought of what on Earth Jongin is doing here in the first place aside, Sehun can't bring himself to say anything, and the latter figures that it's probably a good thing considering the fact that his mouth and tongue feel like they're made of sandpaper and his airway feels like it's being squeezed by a boa. After a while, the sweet, chemicaly smell of strawberry shortcake tingles his senses and Sehun subsequently feels as if he's floating on clouds. In fact, after a few more seconds of silence, the scent gets the best of him and, before he knows it, Sehun is taking a hasty step forward, all previous thoughts gone in the blink of an eye as he walks towards the brunet. 

However, Sehun immediately stops dead in his tracks when he suddenly notices another figure coming into view; a much taller one and a very familiar one, to say the least, and he blinks. Is that-

"What are you doing?" Sehun hears who he assumes is Yifan ask and, sure enough, when the former looks up ever so slightly, he raises an eyebrow when he sees the taller. 

Sehun blinks, unable to move due to the surprise that's rushing through his veins. "The, uh...equipment," he says dumbly, as if Yifan doesn't already know. As if Jongin being here wasn't strange enough on its own. As much as he'd love to stick around and clear a few things up, Sehun figures that doing so in near pitch blackness is far from a good idea, and he scrambles to turn on the light, successfully this time, and he practically smashes the light switch into the wall before the light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickers, subsequently bathing the room in a bright whiteness that makes Sehun, Yifan and Jongin all hiss.

When Sehun rubs at his eyes, he opens them and nearly gasps when he lays his eyes on the brunet, whose hair is a fluffy, frizzy mess atop of his head, and he's got a tight (very tight, Sehun notices, and he almost smacks himself in the head with a floorball stick in order to distract himself) baby blue T-shirt clinging to his torso. His eyes are buzzing with confusion and something Sehun can't decipher and the latter fights the urge to take a step forward and squish Jongin's cheeks together because the latter just looks so lost. Now that Sehun thinks about it, Jongin seems to be staring at the floor instead of him, and it takes every fiber in Sehun's body not to ask him about it.

Yifan, however, does not look lost or confused. In fact, Sehun thinks the former looks rather stern, but he quickly brushes it off because Yifan just so happened to be born with a pair of eyebrows that make him look forever pissed off. However, there's something about Yifan's glare that makes Sehun shiver a little, because it's definitely not the eyebrows this time. 

Fighting the urge to ask Yifan what on Earth he's doing here, with Jongin, that is, Sehun clears his throat and promptly ends the call, not knowing what to say. In his peripheral, he sees Jongin running a hand through his hair and Sehun briefly feels extremely self conscious about his own appearance, considering the fact that he's probably still got shampoo in his hair from earlier. He jumps a little when Yifan speaks.

"Have you seen my keys? I think I dropped them here somewhere," Yifan says in a surprisingly careful tone, almost as if he's choosing his words with great caution. He eyes Sehun intently and the latter fights the urge to put up his hands and show that he isn't, in fact, carrying any firearms.

Watching Jongin shift a little, Sehun balls his hands into fists. He wants nothing more than to walk over and envelope the brunet in a bone crushing hug but there's a voice at the back of his head that's telling him not to. "Here?" he asks, barely paying attention. In fact, he's already forgotten Yifan's question. He's too busy focusing on not yelling at the top of his lungs, and for once, he's grateful for being born with a so called 'resting face', because if he were to (accidentally) let out everything he's feeling in his chest right now, Yifan and Jongin would probably run away screaming in fear.

Yifan nods, still eyeing Sehun. "Yeah. I figured that since you've been in here for the past hour or so, you'd know," he says simply, standing in the same spot. It's almost as if he's absolutely refusing to even cross the threshold to the room and Sehun clenches his jaw.

"Haven't seen 'em, sorry," Sehun mumbles, hardly even paying attention. He's doing his absolute best to block out Yifan's presence but it's not working, to say the least, and in his half dazed state, he makes a move to walk towards the brunet, again, but doesn't get a chance to when Yifan nods.

"I'll come back tomorrow," is all Yifan says, as if he's contemplating if he should enter the room or not; as if a hundred hungry lions were lurking somewhere amongst the many baskets and containers. He turns to face Jongin, who hasn't said a word since the uttering of Sehun's name a minute ago, and places a reassuring hand on the latter's shoulder, careful to avoid the bruised spot. "Shall we go?"

Sehun doesn't know what it is that makes him do it, he figures it's either the side effects of going way too long without seeing the brunet's face or simply because the adrenaline in his brain, which is preventing him from thinking straight, but, either way, his legs seem to move of their own accord as he practically charges forward and grabs Jongin's arm, making sure to do so as gently as humanly possible, just as the latter is about to make a move to walk away with Yifan. Sehun figures that running into Jongin here, of all places, right here and right now, is a miracle on its own and he isn't about to let the opportunity slip away anytime soon, no matter how pissed off Yifan may look.

Sehun tries his best to ignore the rush that spreads across his entire body at the touch as he tries to form a coherent sentence, which is immensely difficult. But he doesn't even need to worry about uttering a single word, because the next thing he knows, he's hearing Yifan's voice. 

"The hell are you doing," Yifan says sternly, reaching for Sehun's arm in an attempt to pry the latter's hand off of Jongin, who, surprisingly, isn't making a move to pull away. 

Growling low in his throat, Sehun's eyes trail over Jongin's face. The latter doesn't look frightened in the least, he only looks confused, which definitely isn't helping to settle the former's nerves as they threaten to explode. Sehun doesn't know what he wants (he blames it on the adrenaline, again), but what he knows is that Jongin is right here, two feet away, and Yifan's voice is like nails on a chalkboard, and the way the latter's hand comes to rest on the small of Jongin's back makes Sehun see red, and he can't make heads or tails of it, and Sehun's brain is struggling to catch up with his own actions and, before the latter knows it, he's taking a step forward and harshly shoving Yifan so that the latter stumbles backwards and nearly collides with the doors.

Jongin jumps a little, but mostly at the sudden loud crash that echoes in the entire room, including the hall, and Sehun doesn't know if he's just imagining things but, in his dazed state, he vaguely registers the brunet's hand (subconsciously or not, Sehun has no clue) reaching up to grab onto his jacket sleeve when Yifan just barely manages to break his fall with his hands, effectively preventing him from smashing his head on the linoleum floor. However, Jongin's touch disappears as quickly as it came and Sehun finds himself getting all that more anxious.

Yifan regains his composure surprisingly fast and the latter gets to his feet in a matter of seconds. He eyes Sehun with an unreadable look before placing a protective hand on Jongin's shoulder, again, much to Sehun's distaste. In all honesty, Sehun doesn't know what's going on or what to make of it all, but that doesn't stop the noise of confusion that leaves his lips, and he fights the urge to scream because Jongin isn't even flinching under Yifan's touch. Jolts of electricity are travelling up and down his spine and if he's going to be frank, Sehun would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling exhilarated right now, except the only thing that's preventing him from feeling completely euphoric is Yifan's godawful presence a few feet away, which is threatening to make every single cell in Sehun's body implode. On any normal day, Sehun would actually be delighted by Yifan's company, but right now Sehun just feels like punching the latter square in the throat.

The confusion running through Sehun's body is preventing him from thinking rationally so he hopes that Jongin might fill in for him and help him sort things out, except his telepathic attempts at notifying the latter all fail miserably and Sehun instead opts to bite his lip and grab Jongin's shoulder, only to flinch like he's been burned when Jongin emits a low hiss. 

"Don't hurt him even more, you imbecile," Yifan says with a scowl, in a tone that Sehun has never heard before, before reaching out and slapping the latter's hand away.

The gesture is so ruthless that it takes Sehun a few moments to process what happened, and it's not until a stinging sensation surges through his hand that he finally comes to his senses, not only because he never expected Yifan to hit anybody, but also because Sehun never expected Yifan to hit him, of all people. Normally, Sehun would be immensely confused and possibly question Yifan about his actions. However, on this particular day, Sehun can't bring himself to care why, all he knows is that Yifan is beckoning for Jongin to follow him out and that there's something burning deep inside his gut at the sight. Sehun half heartedly expects the brunet to pull away or at least make a move to stay behind, but he doesn't, which only fuels the fire within him and, before Sehun even has a chance to register what's going on, he's reaching out. He just barely remembers to be careful not to place his hand on Jongin's shoulder this time and thus end up hurting the latter.

"What do you think you're doing," Yifan growls, attempting to whack Sehun's hand away again, only for the latter to shove him away. "Don't touch him!"

In all honesty, Sehun doesn't know what he's feeling, and he fully blames it on Yifan and the latter's gaze, which is so infused with utter distaste that Sehun nearly cackles. He has never seen Yifan angry; heck, he doesn't even know if Yifan even is angry, all he knows is that there's at least ten million different voices clogging his brain all at once, two of those belonging to Junmyeon and Kyungsoo, and Sehun clenches his jaw in distress as he unconsciously tightens his grip on Jongin's arm. The latter still hasn't said anything for minutes and Sehun only feels his anxiety skyrocket.

In his half dazed and downright anxious state, Sehun scowls. "What the are you talking about," he mumbles under his breath, voice barely audible as he tries pulling Jongin closer to him. He feels like a ticking time bomb that is threatening to go off any second if Yifan continues to stare at him with that (in Sehun's own words; moronic) glare of his any longer.

Yifan doesn't answer. Instead, he eyes Jongin, with a disgusting amount of concern, at least according to Sehun. The brunet honestly looks like he doesn't know what to do nor say, which does nothing to calm Sehun's nerves, which are pretty much on the brink of shutting down. Jongin is practically unrecognizable without his usual chirpy smile and energetic, bouncy attitude as he stands there, bolted to the floor with his eyes focused on his shoes, as quiet as can be. Sehun fights the urge to grab Jongin's shoulders and shake him to make him snap out of whatever spell he's apparently been put under (in that case by Yifan, which makes Sehun grit his teeth in fury), or at least to assure himself that the brunet hasn't turned to stone, because his silence is not only worrying the life out of Sehun, it's also confusing the latter to the very bone, and Sehun worries that the time bomb inside of him, that being his racing heart, might go off if it carries on any longer, especially with Yifan's stare.

"Jongin, let's get out of here," Yifan says after a while, apparently sensing the rage that's gradually building up inside Sehun by the second, before grabbing Jongin's other arm, the one that's not being held by Sehun, and giving it a gentle tug. He retreats, though, when Sehun growls low in his throat. "Christ-"

If he's going to be fully honest, Sehun feels extremely stupid, mainly because he feels like a twelve year old boy fighting with his best friend over the last slice of pizza, that being the brunet, and he mentally slaps himself silly when he finds himself unconsciously tugging on Jongin's arm as he tries to pull the latter closer. Except Sehun is not, in fact, twelve years old, and Yifan is not his best friend (and if he was, he certainly isn't anymore), and instead of fighting to claim the last slice of cheese pizza in the box, Sehun is doing everything in his power to claim what's rightfully his, as he likes to call it. Jongin stumbles a little, causing him to nearly collide with Sehun, and Sehun quickly, moves to stand beside the brunet while glaring daggers at Yifan. As much as the scene must look like it's pulled straight out of any typical high school movie from the early 21st century, Sehun remembers just how full of despair he was a mere twenty minutes ago; how he'd felt the brunet practically slipping through his fingers like sand, and he'd give an arm and a leg right now to clench his fist and prevent said sand from slipping through all together and thus disappearing forever.

"Jongin, let's go," Yifan says, his voice a little louder this time, as his eyes dart back and forth between Sehun and Jongin. 

Giving Jongin's arm a squeeze, both to reassure the latter and himself, Sehun scowls. The smell of rubber mixed with strawberry shortcake is threatening to make his head explode. "The actual hell do you mean by that."

"Duh, I'm giving him a ride home," Yifan says casually, and Sehun has never wanted to punch the former more than he does right now. "So, if you please."

Trying to shove the mental image of Jongin in Yifan's car out of his head, Sehun bites his lip. His heart is beating so fast he worries he might suffer from cardiac arrest if he continues to stand here any longer and his head is spinning so much that he contemplates sitting down on the floor before he has a chance to pass out. He doesn't, thankfully, and swallows the lump in his throat. Beside him, Jongin is still as silent as ever. As much as he wants to yell everything that's on his mind right in Yifan's face, he decides against it and settles for a simple sentence instead. "Could you give us a minute?"

Yifan, a bit taken aback by Sehun's unexpected change of tone, as well as his words, blinks. "What?"

"A minute, please," Sehun repeats, hoping his voice doesn't sound too shaky or desperate. He hopes that how he currently feels on the inside isn't in any way visible on the outside. When Yifan doesn't make a move to walk away, Sehun feels himself grow impatient and he grabs Jongin's arm even tighter. The latter still isn't saying anything, which only adds to the taller's distress and he fights the urge to cry. "Please."

Apparently deep in thought, Yifan eyes Sehun suspciously before nodding slowly, nearly causing Sehun to collapse with relief. "Okay. But do it in there, and keep the door unlocked," he says lowly, gesturing at the open door to the equipment room a foot or so away. He shoots Sehun a stern yet cautious glare before shifting his gaze so he's looking at Jongin. "Is that alright?"

Fighting the urge to scream 'What goddamn business is it of yours?', Sehun bites his lip and watches as Jongin nods ever so slightly before wasting no time in practically dragging the latter towards the door. He walks through it, and in his dazed state of mind, he finds himself turning the lock on the door, to which Jongin doesn't even react. 

Sehun instantly feels all his anger, confusion and hatred being replaced with sorrow, agony and pure despair the very moment the door closes, and he has to take a deep breath to pull himself together when the atmosphere in the room suddenly changes so fast that he nearly gets swept off his feet. His heart is still racing and his head is still spinning, and when he looks up, Sehun sees Jongin standing over by the cricket sticks, unmoving and silent. 

There are a million thoughts on his mind right now, as well as a million words on his tongue, but for some reason, Sehun can't bring himself to utter a single one of them, and he ends up falling equally as silent as Jongin, while scratching the back of his ear. Half of him is kind of relieved that it's so quiet, because Yifan's voice was starting to drive him insane, but the other half of Sehun sort of wishes that Yifan was still talking, because the silence is growing to a point that it almost becomes suffocating, despite the smell of strawberry shortcake doing wonders to ease the pain in the depths of Sehun's chest.

They stand in silence for a full minute before Sehun musters the courage to lift his head and open his mouth, not because he knows what to say, but because he simply can't take the deafening silence anymore. "Um." 

Jongin fidgets a bit with one of the badminton rackets. His eyes are glued to the floor and Sehun wishes he would look up just once. He remains as silent as ever and, if Sehun is going to be honest, he's starting to get annoyed.

"What's the deal with you two?" Sehun asks, genuinely curious. He eyes Jongin intently, somehow hoping that ogling the latter will make him lift his head, which doesn't work. 

Shrugging ever so slightly, Jongin bites his lip. "I don't really know," he says quietly before going back to fidgeting with the racket.

Fighting the urge to jump for joy since Jongin finally actually said something, Sehun raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asks, a sense of confusion washing over him. In all honesty, he doesn't even know why he's asking, because he doesn't want to know in the first place, but alas, he's intrigued and wants nothing more than to hear Jongin's voice.

Jongin shrugs again and Sehun feels his irritation growing. "I think he likes me," is all he says and flinches a little at the noise of surprise that subsequently leaves Sehun's mouth.

"What," Sehun garbles, mind still processing the few words he just heard. Quite frankly, it's not the fact that Yifan seems to be pining over Jongin that makes Sehun's stomach churn uncomfortably, which it is, but it's the casual tone that laces said words as they leave Jongin's mouth, and Sehun has to mentally steady himself to keep himself upright, because it seriously feels like his chest area has just taken a massive blow. Feeling his gut twist, Sehun's gaze darts back and forth between Jongin's eyes, which are as untelling as ever, for any signs of the latter bluffing or anything of the sort, only to find none, and Sehun only feels himself growing more and more anxious.

"Yeah," Jongin says quietly, apparently glued to the floor because he hasn't moved an inch since the door closed well over a minute ago. He runs a hand through his messy hair and the fresh scent of strawberry makes its way over to Sehun, who nearly collapses upon inhaling it. 

Not knowing what to say, even though there's a billion thoughts on his mind, Sehun clears his throat. He dreads asking the next question but he figures he has to for reasons unknown. "And uh, okay, well, do you like him?" he finally asks after a minute's worth of contemplation, and he holds his breath as he waits for the brunet to respond.

After a painfully long while, Jongin only presses his lips together. "Maybe."

Sehun barely hears what Jongin says, considering the fact that he's far too busy looking for the usual, playful glint that always seems to be apparent in the latter's eyes every time he speaks, only to not find it anywhere, and Sehun visibly swallows when he sees nothing but honesty written all over Jongin's face. Sehun almost stops and questions himself as to whether or not he's actually standing face to face with Jongin; the Kim Jongin he has grown to love (even more for past few days), because if Sehun is going to be frank, it feels like he's staring at a complete stranger. A stranger wearing Jongin's clothing and sporting the latter's facial features.

It takes Sehun a good while to snap out of his trance and, when he does, he finds himself running a distressed hand through his hair in an attempt to calm his racing heart. Jongin is standing only a few feet away, and he's still as quiet, calm and unmoving as ever, as opposed to Sehun, who feels like a grenade that's about to blow any second. In fact, Sehun figures that he could blow up this very moment and Jongin wouldn't even flinch.

When a few more minutes of pure silence pass, Sehun suddenly feels himself growing extremely angry. Not because Jongin just admitted to crushing on somebody else, but (mainly) because the latter is being so alarmingly casual about it, and Sehun emits a low growl of irritation before he can stop himself. He doesn't believe in witch craft in the slightest, but he's more than willing to rethink that because he's at least 99% sure that Yifan must have cast some sort of spell on the brunet, or at least turned the latter into a completely opposite version of himself. At least that's the only way Sehun can explain Jongin's stoicness, and as silly as it sounds, it's honestly all he's got at this point.

"Wait, so you're like, together then?" Sehun asks, leaning against the door. His heart trembles with each word but he can't stop himself for reasons he can't explain.

Jongin shrugs before shoving his hands in his pockets. "Ask him."

Fighting the urge to scream out ' that', Sehun only chuckles humorlessly. He feels a newfound frustration bubbling in his stomach and he grits his teeth together because how dare he talk like he has no idea who he's talking to. "Wait, what?" He blinks, eyeing Jongin almost disbelievingly. The latter stays quiet for another minute and Sehun's irritation quickly gets the best of him. "Are you seriously doing that?"

Jongin blinks before he lifts his head, finally looking up, and Sehun doesn't know if he should feel terrified or utterly relieved when their eyes lock. "Doing what?"

Shuddering at the emptiness in Jongin's eyes, it takes Sehun a while to pull himself together. "You know, sleeping around with a ton of people you don't even know in order to cope," he says before he can stop himself. He probably should have worded it a bit differently but, in his defense, his brain is clogged with a ton of other things, so rephrasing his words isn't exactly at the top of his list of things to do today. Across from him, Jongin's mouth falls open in surprise.

"Are you-" Jongin closes his mouth and blinks in surprise before his features contort into a look of pure distaste. "Are you calling me a ?" he scowls, balling his hands into fists. "We haven't even slept together," he adds a little louder than before and Sehun fights the urge to walk over and cover his mouth with his hand because the last thing he wants is for Yifan to break the door down.

"How would I know?" Sehun retorts, feeling his insides grow hot with something he can only describe as agony mixed with a hint of rage (on the other hand, there are a few...suggestive images clouding his mind at Jongin's question and he curses inwardly). "Stop doing that, it's dumb," he adds and decides to close his mouth when Jongin looks like he's seconds away from blowing a fuse (mainly because Sehun does not want Yifan mistaking the brunet's frustrated retort for a dispute, but also, and mainly, because he detests seeing Jongin angry). He takes a deep breath to mentally pull himself together before looking at Jongin again. "Okay. Let me rephrase that." He takes a few steps but stops in his tracks when the brunet subtly backs away. "It's just that, well, sometimes it's wise to sit down and think about what you really want in order to avoid things getting even worse and getting even more hurt. You know, out of respect for yourself, that is." 

For a few moments, nobody says anything and Sehun is seconds away from asking Jongin if he's gone permanently mute when, the next thing he knows, Sehun barely registers what he thinks must be a red and blue badminton racket flying towards his face at lightning speed, and he's lucky that he was born with quick reflexes because he barely manages to duck in time to avoid getting hit with the object as it misses his head by a hair, and the sound that echoes in the large room when it crashes into the door behind them lingers in the air for a long time. 

Sehun stands in the same spot, trying to process what just happened as he slowly gets to his feet. His ears are ringing from the loud noise and he vaguely registers Yifan's concerned voice on the other side of the door, but he pays it no mind. Instead, he focuses his attention on Jongin, who looks like he's both seconds from bursting into tears as well as walking right over to Sehun and bludgeoning the latter to death with a cricket racket. If Sehun is correct, the latter would much rather prefer getting severely beat to death with a stone hard sports equipment, because he knows for a fact that it would be much less painful than seeing (or hearing) Jongin cry.  

"What the goddamn hell do you know about respect?" Jongin yells, his voice nearly causing Sehun's knees to give in. If the latter is going to be frank, he sort of wishes the brunet would have remained silent because hearing him scream at the top of his lungs really isn't making things better, especially not with Yifan banging on the door, asking to be let in.

Sehun doesn't know if it's the adrenaline coursing through his veins or the overall confusion and dread he's feeling that makes him say it, but either way, he growls under his breath. "What the do you mean by that?" he asks, even though he clearly knows the answer.

Emitting a noise of frustration, that closely resembles a wail, Jongin runs a hand through his hair. "There you go again, acting like you have no idea about anything," he seethes, grabbing another badminton racket and Sehun has to rush over and grab his wrist before he has a chance to throw it and possibly cause the latter a broken nose. 

In his dazed, yet tingly (he figures Jongin has that effect on him), state, Sehun swallows the lump in his throat when the smell of strawberry becomes even stronger than before. In fact, it takes him a full minute to realize that he's standing a mere inch away from Jongin, and on any normal occasion, Sehun would find the fact sort of exciting, if only it wasn't for the fact that he is currently holding onto Jongin's wrist and hand for dear life to prevent the latter from throwing a stone hard badminton racket right at his face or beating him up with it, and Sehun doesn't know which outcome is worst.

As Jongin struggles in his grip, Sehun is extremely thankful for the fact that he just so happens to be (quite a bit) stronger than Jongin because he easily manages to pry the racket out of the latter's hand before carefully placing it back in its respective basket again. He hurries to shove it away, out of Jongin's reach, before carefully guiding the latter, who looks like he's on the verge of a mental meltdown, away from any equipment that could potentially cause somebody ungodly harm, those being the cricket rackets, soccer balls, floorball sticks and, dear God, the baseball bats. In fact, Sehun is so busy trying to steer Jongin away from said equipment (while also praying for his life) that he doesn't even realize he's not only got the brunet in a tight, yet gentle, grip, but also that the latter is shaking.

At first, Sehun worries that Jongin might, indeed, be suffering from a mental meltdown as a result of not having anything to beat the former up with, and Sehun briefly panics until he feels something dewy on his hand, and he flinches like he's been burned. He curses under his breath, because the equipment room is known for its regular pipe leaks, but Sehun blinks in confusion when he looks up at the ceiling and sees that all the pipes above seem to be intact, which briefly confuses him because upon closer inspection, that is deed a water drop on his hand, and he's about to question his sanity when he averts his gaze and - oh.

"You don't know anything," Jongin sobs, nearly choking on his own words in the process, as his hands come up to cover his face, which is already very wet. "God damn it, you're the most narcissistic, selfish and conceited blowhard I've ever met, my sister was right about you all along, my friends were right about you, oh my God." He wipes at his eyes before lifting his head, although he deliberately avoids Sehun's eyes, much to the latter's dismay. "I hate this, I hate this, I hate you, I hate this-"

Sehun clenches his jaw. Because as much as he wants to walk over and shake Jongin silly for spewing such incoherencies out of his mouth, he can't bring himself to do so, because the longer he listens to the latter ramble (all whilst ignoring the way it makes his heart tremble), the more he realizes that he is, in fact, right, and Sehun feels his palms getting clammy with sweat when he hears Yifan banging on the door even harder. However, Sehun doesn't even bother telling Yifan to piss off, and instead, he focuses on trying to ignore the tearing of his heart. In all honesty, Sehun would love to run away and never come back if he had the chance, but all he hears over the sound of Jongin sobbing are Kyungsoo and Junmyeons voices, which are etched in his mind, and they're enough to make him swallow the last of his pride and stay where he is.

"Hey, come here," Sehun says, praying to God his voice doesn't sound too shaky, before taking a step forward and wrapping his arms around Jongin's frame, which, for some reason, feels a lot smaller than it usually does, but Sehun figures it's probably because he hasn't held the brunet in what feels like forever.

Jongin is warm under his touch, but Sehun doesn't get to savor the moment for very long because the next thing he knows, he's being forcefully shoved back and he's thankful that he (barely) manages to avoid colliding with the soccer goals behind him as he stumbles backwards. Over the sound of metal clashing against metal, Sehun barely hears himself muttering something along the lines of 'What the hell' as grabs onto one of them for support.

"What the hell's going on in there?" Yifan exclaims, clearly panicked. "Jongin, are you alright?" He bangs on the door a few more times and tries to open it with no success.

"Everything's fine," Sehun hollers absentmindedly as he blocks out the sound of Yifan banging on the door, and a half minute halter he thinks he hears the sounds stopping, but he isn't too sure. Right now, he's more focused on getting the brunet to look at him, and to say that it barely works would be an understatement. He looks around to make sure that the nearest bat or racket is within a ten foot distance before turning to face Jongin again.

Frankly, Sehun would be lying if he tried telling himself that he didn't know why Jongin is crying, because he does, he just can't bring himself to think about that right now, because Jongin is in hysterics and Sehun gradually feels the logical part of his brain shutting down with each sob that escapes Jongin's mouth. Sehun just hopes that he won't end up bursting into tears, too.

When he takes a few deep breaths, mainly to assure himself that he isn't, in fact, going to break down himself, Sehun reaches out to place a hand on Jongin's arm, but quickly decides against it for a handful of reasons, so he opts to stare at the brunet while keeping his arms by his sides. It's difficult, not touching the brunet, and Sehun doesn't know how he manages to restrain himself, but he does, somehow, and for that he's truly thankful because the last thing he wants right now is to go home with a broken nose or a missing eye. "What do you see in him?"

Jongin briefly goes silent as he slowly lifts his head. "What-"

"Yifan," Sehun blurts out before he has a chance to stop himself. He's stepping on a mine here and he's fully aware of it. "What's so special about him? Hell, you barely even know him! If you do at all, that is," he adds, mainly in confusion than anger, as he throws his hands in the air. He notices Jongin moving away ever so slightly and curses under his breath.

"Well at least he gives a about me!" Jongin yells before a handful of tears come streaming down his face, and he doesn't even bother wiping them away since he (and Sehun, for that matter) knows that they'll be replaced with new ones shortly after. 

Sehun has always hated the thought or idea of a heart breaking, the imagery that accompanies the idea of a human heart breaking or shattering is enough to make him queasy, but he would lying straight out of his own mind if he said that he couldn't feel his entire heart literally getting torn to shreds upon hearing Jongin's words, and he fights the urge to open the door so he can breathe, because it seriously feels like he's been placed inside a vacuum, and he prays to God that his entire body doesn't implode. In all honesty, as much as his chest is hurting, Sehun is surprised that it isn't hurting more than it already is, but he figures it's because his heart was already pretty darn close to breaking the moment Jongin first started crying a moment ago, and Sehun doesn't know if he should feel relieved or all that more anxious.

"Why, because he lets you ride in his car from time to time?" Sehun retorts, mentally punching himself the second the last word leaves his mouth beacuse he's pretty sure that he's stepped on and set off every single mine there is, and it's almost as if he's actively searching for new ones to uncover. He hopes he doesn't find any. "I would've let you ride in my car whether I gave a flying about you or not." Across from him, Jongin visibly tenses and Sehun hears the sound of something exploding in his head. That's another one.

"You know what the I meant," Jongin growls, his voice bouncing off of every single wall in the room. Sehun has to bite back a sob because he definitely does.

The worst part, however, isn't the way Jongin's voice cracks beyond humanly possibly at his own words, it's the bitter truth that laces them, and Sehun knows that trying to protest in any way, shape or form would be utterly useless. Junmyeon's words are echoing in his mind and he doesn't know if he should let them out or bite them back. He ends up settling for the former, after a painfully long silence, although Sehun low key figures a two minute break would do them both good since he's at least 100% sure that with any more yelling, Jongin might actually pass out from the way he's practically hyperventilating a few feet away. 

Even though he may be looking calm and stoic on the outside, Sehun wouldn't be surprised if Jongin could hear the sounds of the tiny fragments of his heart falling from his chest, only to hit the bottom of his gut with faint thuds. He isn't sure if Jongin would care, either, and the thought makes Sehun bite his lip to keep himself from crying out. It feels like a hurricane has been trapped inside the room with no way out (the only thing missing being the million pieces of debris flying everywhere as well as the wind); a hurricane that only grows more powerful with every word that leaves Jongin's mouth.

"I do." 

Jongin blinks, as if he certainly wasn't expecting to hear that. He lifts his head ever so slightly, something flashing in his eyes. Sehun prays to God that it's the storm settling and not building up all over again, because he doesn't think he'll be able to handle another outburst. "What?"

"I know what you meant," Sehun says lowly, hoping he won't end up getting a tennis racket or a volleyball to the face. He can barely even hear his own words over the sound of his heart racing in his ears, but he's convinced that it's racing in defeat and nothing else. In fact, his entire body feels like a deflated balloon and, as much as he tries to stop himself, he has to sink down to the floor before he has a chance to pass out. He leans against one of the soccer goals and swallows the lump in his throat. Normally, he'd have a thousand different comebacks on the tip of his tongue, but right now, all that's surging through his system is defeat and if Sehun had a white flag, he'd be waving it in the air frantically.

Sehun has no idea what Jongin's friends have been telling the latter, but Sehun doesn't even need to ask to know what it is, and he only sighs before running a hand down his face. His heart isn't hurting anymore, but he assumes it's only because he's slowly gotten numb to the pain, and honestly, Sehun wouldn't even flinch if Jongin were to walk over and kick him silly. 

Sehun is so occupied with his own thoughts that he barely even registers the sound of the door opening a few feet away and, the next thing he knows, he hears what he thinks must be Yifan's voice.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell's going on," Yifan breathes, putting the spare key away in his pocket, as he rushes inside the room. He shoots Sehun, who looks like a crumpled mess on the floor, a look before his gaze shifts over to Jongin, who could easily be mistaken for a ghost, especially given the empty, distant look in the latter's eyes. "I thought I told you not to lock the damn door!"

Normally, Sehun would retort with a cheesy, yet witty, 'You're not my mother', but right now, he can't even bring himself to open his mouth. It's like his brain hasn't even fully processed the fact that Yifan is inside the room and he heaves a sigh, Jongin's words stuck on repeat in his head. Sehun always knew that the truth would hurt like hell, but he never, ever imagined it to feel like getting bludgeoned over and over with a wooden steak and a mallet. The hard, metal rod he's leaning back against is threatening to split his spine open but he doesn't care.

"Let's go," Yifan says, tugging on Jongin's arm. He's probably surprised that the room is still in tact. Sehun doesn't even bother looking up, because he'd rather sit alone on the floor, in the darkness, and dwell in his own thoughts than be greeted with the sight of Jongin leaving, hand in hand with Yifan. Any day.

Jongin doesn't say anything, and Sehun misses the way he shoots him a look. He seems to contemplate the idea forever before biting his lip, and Sehun fully braces himself for the truthfulness that will momentarily leave the brunet's mouth, because he figures it can't possibly feel worse than what he's already feeling. Not to mention, who is he to protest against the truth, anyway?

"Come on, let's get out of here," Yifan pries, motioning for Jongin to walk out the door with him. When the latter doesn't even budge, he bites his lip. "What's wrong?"

Sehun is trying not to listen. As numb as he may be to the pain right now, he'd rather not add to it by forcing himself to pay attention to whatever Jongin is telling Yifan about him, and he does his best to block out all surrounding sounds until all he hears is the frantic beating of his own heart. The linoleum floor is cold and hard beneath him and Sehun figures his bottom should be numb by now, and he seriously wonders why it isn't. Now that he thinks about it, it probably is, but what would he know. Since he's got his head lowered, all he can see is Jongin's shoes, and the mere sight of them makes Sehun's gut coil uncomfortably, because he doesn't want to see them walking towards the door, and he's just about to squeeze his eyes shut when he nearly flinches.

A hand. Right before his eyes. It's so surreal that Sehun has to blink a few times to assure himself that he isn't going crazy, but it's there, all right, and Sehun blinks again before looking up, and he nearly jumps out of his own skin when he comes face to face with none other than Jongin. The latter's face is honestly unreadable as he's bent over in front of Sehun, and his eyes are equally as unreadable, and Sehun doesn't know if the small smile on his face is one of sympathy or just plain pity. Sehun settles for the latter. 

As much as Sehun doesn't want to take Jongin's hand, since sitting alone in the cold, dark room would be much less humiliating, his fingers are buzzing with the urge to touch the brunet and, the next thing he knows, Sehun is standing upright less than a fraction of a second later. He barely even gets a chance to feel Jongin's hand in his own because the next thing he feels is his mind briefly blanking out and he curses himself for standing up so fast.

Sehun puts a hand to each of his temples to assure himself that he isn't going to pass out before looking up. Yifan's eyebrows are knitted together in something Sehun can't bring himself to care about, and Jongin is standing right next to the former. Honestly, Sehun doesn't know if it's the head rush, which is threatening to make his head explode, that's preventing him from thinking straight, but he can't bring himself to feel jealous. Well, to be frank, he can't bring himself to feel anything other than guilt and defeat. 

"Shall we go?" Yifan asks, patting Jongin on the shoulder. He seems eager to get out and Sehun doesn't blame him, because the latter figures he looks like death right now.

Jongin visibly swallows. He shoots Sehun an unreadable look before scratching the back of his ear. He doesn't look nearly as angry as he did a few moments ago, much to Sehun's relief. "But."

Sehun stares at the floor. Not only is his chest and stomach (and bottom) hurting beyond belief, but his head is, too, and he prays that he'll be able to form a coherent sentence before opening his mouth to speak, mainly because he hasn't spoken in what feels like forever. Except his words die in his throat and he curses under his breath. Thankfully (or not, depending on how you see it), Yifan comes to his rescue before the entire room is plunged into an awkward silence.

"What do you mean?" Yifan furrows his eyebrows even more as he looks at Jongin. "You want him to join us?" he adds, perplexed. When Jongin nods, he bites his lip in obvious discomfort. "I don't think that's-"

"-a good idea," Sehun finishes, shoving his hands in his pockets. As much as he'd like to join Yifan and Jongin in the former's car, and as nice as a ride home may sound, he'd rather not interfere, because he can practically feel Yifan's unwelcoming stare burning holes in his head, and he clears his throat whilst ignoring the way his throat constricts a little. He's at a loss for words, again.

"No, it's just-" Yifan shrugs, scratching the back of his ear when Jongin shifts a little. "Well, I mean-"

"I get it," Sehun says lowly, chuckling dryly. Because you hate me. Because Jongin hates me. He definitely gets it. Because if he's going to be honest, if he were in Yifan or Jongin's shoes right now, he would probably hate himself, too. Scratch that, he would loathe himself, and he subconsciously averts his gaze so he's staring at Yifan's (humongous) shoes because he'd rather not look at either of their faces right now.

Yifan nods a little, probably out of pity, and his eyes trail over Sehun before he pats Jongin's shoulder again. "Shall we-" He pauses when he sees Sehun opening his mouth to speak, only for the latter to close it again. "...What?"

Sehun clears his throat, feeling his insides grow hot. He doesn't know why he's feeling the way he does (he blames it on the pain in his entire body seemingly re-wiring his entire system), but the longer he stands here, the feeling of impending doom grows even stronger. It's not the end of the world and he knows it darn good and well, however, he can't help but feel that it is, especially with Jongin's words to him earlier. Now that he thinks about it, his airways are starting to tighten and Sehun hurries to open his mouth before it has a chance to close up completely. The words he's been fighting so hard to bite back for the past couple of minutes are starting to shoot up his throat like bile and Sehun prays that he doesn't end up vomiting all over the floor instead.

"I, uh." Sehun clears his throat and clenches his jaw, refusing to look either Yifan or Jongin in the eyes, because he figures that if he were to, he might accidentally end up bursting into tears instead, and honestly, he'd rather disembowel himself with a tennis racket than do that. "It's just, uh, I just wanted to say that none of this is, or, uh, was, your fault, you- , you deserve someone like him-" He points to Yifan without looking up. "He's a great guy, he'll make you happy- I'm sorry-" He has to close his mouth in fear of rambling too much because he's certain neither Yifan nor Jongin want to hear it. He knows he wouldn't. 

Sehun feels extremely stupid, since this isn't, in fact, a dramatic soap opera and he isn't an actor spewing out some awful, corny lines. However, a small part of Sehun secretely wishes that he were, in fact, living in a crappy soap opera, because that would mean that none of this was real, that everyone's just acting, which is honestly all he wishes for at this point. Except everything is, in fact, very, very real, and it makes Sehun want to cry.

Jongin swallows, but Sehun doesn't see it. "What do you-"

"You're good enough- , you've always been good enough- Damn it- I talked to the guys and-" Sehun cuts himself off. One half of him is seriously wondering why Yifan and Jongin haven't just their heels and walked out of the sports hall yet, and the other half of him is beating himself up for even mentioning that last part because Sehun knows for a fact that saying it would be meaningless, not to mention he'd rather not drag Junmyeon or Kyungsoo (or anybody else, for that matter) into this. In fact, he doesn't even know why he's even saying the things he's saying in the first place, but it's almost as if the filter between his brain and his mouth has gotten cut off, although Sehun is certainly trying his hardest to restrain himself. Sehun figures that if Jongin is going to walk away, he won't let the latter do so without draining him of any guilt or self blame beforehand. 

Yifan presses his lips together before eyeing the brunet. "Shall we go?"

Jongin fidgets with the strap on his duffel bag, which Sehun didn't even realize he had slung over his shoulder until now. He seriously wonders how he could have missed it. "I don't- I don't kn-"

"You don't want to be with somebody who hurts you, right?" Yifan asks sternly yet softly, eyeing the brunet. "Who lies to you? Who can't bring himself to spare you a glance in public?" he adds, looking at Jongin, who looks at the floor. "Do you?"

Normally, upon hearing those words, Sehun would probably beat Yifan upside the head with a sledgehammer, but right now, all he can do it stick his hands in his pockets while hoping that the shame coursing through his veins won't make his heart stop. When Jongin looks up, Sehun presses his lips together and nods a little, as if to say 'He's right', seriously hoping his telepathic attempt at communication will get through to the brunet. Sehun clearly recalls the way his heart would skip a beat every time he looked in Jongin's eyes, and if he's going to be honest, Sehun sort of feels the same way right now. That is, if feeling like you're about to go into cardiac arrest in any way resembles your heart skipping a beat, and Sehun has to look away. He'd rather have a hundred Chanyeols tackling him with full force than have to endure this. He feels like a fool and he honestly doesn't know why Yifan and Jongin are still sticking around.

"He's no good for you, don't you understand that?" Yifan says, nudging Jongin a little, and it's not until the latter's lip seems to quiver that Sehun actually feels as if Chanyeol has tackled him with full force, and he bites his lip so hard it draws blood.

With his heart in his throat, effectively squashing the sob that threatened to escape his lips, Sehun ignores the metallic taste in his mouth and removes his hands from his pockets. He doesn't know what to look at; he doesn't want to look at the floor since he's been staring at Yifan's feet for the past five minutes, but he doesn't want to look up, either, since he fears he might break down, both mentally and physically, if he were to accidentally look at the brunet. 

Speaking of the brunet, Sehun seriously, seriously hopes that Jongin isn't crying out of guilt, and Sehun promptly feels like giving Yifan a black eye at the thought of the latter making the brunet cry. Well, there's that, and also the fact that Sehun feels like giving himself a black eye because if it wasn't for his stupidity (he's never really stopped to think about it, but he certainly never imagined for it to hit him in this manner), Yifan and Jongin would be in the former's car, on their way to better places, and Jongin would be as bubbly and happy as always, instead of being caught between Yifan's sternness and Sehun's own, well, stupidity. Sehun tries convincing himself that he's only feeling like this because he hates seeing Jongin cry in general, and he automatically thinks back to the time when Jongin cried in his arms a little more than a week ago. However, that was different, because then, Jongin wasn't crying because of him (at least not entirely, anyway, Sehun thinks), and Sehun promptly swallows, wincing when the vile taste of blood travels down his throat.

Unable to listen to (or watch, for that matter, which is probably even worse) Jongin crying any longer, since it feels like he's seconds away from bursting into tears himself (which he seriously does not want to do, because Sehun knows he won't be able to stop if he does), Sehun clears his throat loudly, mainly to ease the tension in the air and to stop himself from letting out a sob of his own. He can't look at Yifan or Jongin, primarily out of shame and something that he can't quite put his finger on right now. "He's, uh...he's right," he says quietly, fighting the urge to chuckle because the truth in those few words is just overwhelming. Christ.

Yifan blinks in confusion before he seems to understand, and he nods slowly. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes widen a little when Sehun suddenly mutters something inaudible under his breath before the latter turns on his heel and swiftly walks out of the room, towards the exit, Yifan following him with his eyes. The door closes with a deafening bang and, next to him, Jongin bursts into tears.

~~~