;the beginning of the end
 

Song: 환청

Sehun remembers her like it was yesterday.

She sits there, across from him, in all black, and her hair is silk darker than he's ever seen with locks of auburn; a stark contrast from the colorful spunky style that Sehun usually dons when he's not out for meetings.

Again, they're not talking. They're at the famous neighbourhood hangout called Carpe'Diem; a bohemian-furnished friend-owned building with two storeys— ground level for eatery, the second for night life. The whole saga basically consists of Sehun admiring her from afar, deeply intrigued by the lone woman for some unknown reason.

They sit by the window in a very jazzy-ambient restaurant. He requests, as he often does, for the surrounding tables to be left vacant just so he can watch a clear view of the sultry woman from the rim of his neglected tequila glass.

Yellow moonlight raids through the bar and refracts on the dazzling chandelier, just enough to shadow half her face and contour her nape line. It feels good after coming in from a long day of work despite fading autumn. It's a Friday night so the streets are vibrantly bustling, if not tad busy.

When she settles down, she removes the heavy trench coat only to reveal her fair slender arms. Her table vase is memorably accessorized with usual lovely white callas. There’s just something about that pale woman with gorgeous scarlet lipstick. As she peruses the night sky out the window studying astronomy in fascination, her complexion is ideally reflected on modern ventanas.

She looks older. Weary. Though in reality she is probably three years younger than Sehun, she looks weathered. The crow feet next to her eyes tell everything. But he absolutely adores it; it's an endearing feature hidden amidst her mature getup.

The stranger orders scallop alfalfa with thousand island dressing and fruit punch. Sehun finishes his third shot of liquor; it no longer scalds his throat.

Sehun saunters over to her table in leisure footsteps and takes his place before her. She looks up from her dish with volume lashes that Sehun circa an hour and a half maximum to curl up. He calls for the waiter and orders chicken fettuccini with a coke zero to go— the opposite enemy for her healthy diet.

"I hope you don't mind the sudden invitation." Sehun introduces.

"Wow, finally."

A glint of amusement glimmers his orbs. "You knew?"

"Oh please. I don't need to possess sixth sense to feel someone staring holes into my head every time I step foot in here." She comes off rather brash, worlds' apart her elegant demeanour.

"So, you don't mind?"

The woman takes a napkin and dabs some gloss off her lips. "I do, actually."

Sehun chuckles and relaxes against the couch. "It just so happens that we're both alone tonight. I like my supper best with company."

"If you must know," She begins albeit cocky, "I don't sit well with aggressive advances."

"I'm not making a move on you." Sehun assures.

"I don't talk a lot and I'm not a social butterfly." She continues to talk down, "I'm far from interesting nor am I fun."

Sehun locks his sight with piqued curiosity. "That's strange. The quietest people own the noisiest minds."

At the outdated pick-up line, she sighs, "Oh bother."

Sehun pulls out a green transparent box and gives it a feeble shake. "Do you want one of my cherry candies?"

"I'm good." She plainly rejects his offer.

It hangs in the air for a minuscule delay. The scene is unfamiliar but not at all strange, like something that has once occurred before and slipped through fragments of his memory.

“How long are you in this city?” Sehun asks her, a little more genuine now. No longer coquettish.

“Two and a half months." She notices this, still answering rather curtly because whatever. Sehun doesn't mind the toneㅡ he thinks that may be her unique selling point.

Mysterious, Sehun thinks. And he's only seeing such a jewel now.

"I sold my old building in Seoul a few weeks ago." She nonchalantly continues. Sehun just listens to her story. "I've only just moved in after clearing that space, if that's what you're thinking."

"That's what I'm thinking?" Sehun pauses a brief moment, albeit trying to make sense. Oh, so the stranger's not really a Sherlock case then. She's the detective herself, quick-witted and efficient. "Right, that is what I was thinking."

He taps his fingers rhythmically on the marble surface, a habit he hasn't been able to curb during proposal pitches with clients, almost dying of palpitating peculiarity.

"Why'd you move though? It's a small town here. Seoul is much, much bigger."

Sehun leans in to prop an elbow and rests his jaw on a palm, seemingly to unravel an exquisite novelty.

"Kinda boring. When you're alone 24/7, living in a big, empty house." She only fondles with the straw in her juice and they sit there silently. She throws him a look where he sees a twinge of uncertainty beneath her mascara.

"I'm done with my meal tonight." She stands up, too quickly for someone who took her luxury twirling into her leafy bowl of greens and yellow and oranges.

"Wait," Sehun halts her steps from leaving, "will I be able to see you again after this?"

Her dreamy eyes wander around his face but they're haunted for a gaze that's distant and screaming skeptical. The waiter then arrives with Sehun's order and he briefly casts away some attention to thank his hospitality.

When he turns around, the mystery woman is no longer there.

Gone like magic.
 

Sehun is blatantly but pleasantly surprise to see her at Carpe'Diem the following Sunday in all black except her wine stiletto pumps, this time clothed in velvet plus satin with more sheer iness.

She barely notices his presence drowned in boisterous noises and dim shady lamps, or so he thinks, unlit cigarette stuck in the center of her shiny strawberry lips that seems out of the norm.

"Do you need a lighter?" Sehun proffers his aztec steel casing of flammable liquid towards her where she takes it after some lagging beats.

"Thanks."

"Why do you even carry a cigarette if you don't have a lighter?" The query is more of a deliberate judgment than an actual probe.

"I do it to relieve stress. That way, I can pretend I'm really smoking. You know, like a form of distraction." She shrugs like she's conditioned to be strategically immune but Sehun is aware of her uneven breathing. "Only when it gets extreme, I light it up." She adds the last part with a distinctively softer tone, "Sometimes."

She skilfully puffs out perfect white hoops of smoke diectly into his face, rather on purpose. It hazes his vision while he's studying her façade and he takes in a scent of vanilla and cinnamon mixed with dull tobacco.

"Sir," a female hostess passes by, "do you need ice water?"

"That would be good." Sehun answers as the woman in front of him her lips from the last ringlet of fog, "Make that two, please."

"Two?"

"Yes." Sehun mutters, "One for the lady here."

The hostess twitches quizzically but obeys eventually, "Um, very well then."

Torn between battling against crescendos of trumpet soaking in their skin and semi-faulty leaking faucets from his manifesting eagerness, Sehun bravely asks, "Is it extreme now?"

"Maybe." Is her vague response.

A silver moonlight escapes the cellophane sky and bounces off the bicycle outer railings, somehow working its way to the expensive-looking ring abandoned on her finger.

"You're engaged?" Sehun groans, intentionally showing some disappointment in the way it escapes his mouth.

She narrows her sight downwards and moves her hand from beneath her chin to identify it.

"Almost but not quite." The woman shakes her head, then drops a sardonic cackle. "Should I be honest? Well let's basically say, I got dumped. Not too long ago."

Their gazes collide. As a matter of fact, Sehun feels sympathy for her, not as someone who has lost a lover, rather, for someone trying to pick up a mirror after it cracks eventhough it can't be stitched.

"Well, uh," Sehun finds it unusually weird to be thrown to flabbergast not by his own friends nor major clients, but a woman he barely knows, "you can tell me if it helps take some weight off."

"Tell you?" She chuckles again but lets her teeth show this time which Sehun thinks looks captivating, "Tell a complete stranger?"

It's almost haunting yet breathtaking how broken she looks while plastering what is possibly termed grief with a stretch of decent smile.

On cue, the band aligns the mood with the transition of idle trumpet music from allegro clarinet harmony. Sehun counters her words with a charming smirk. Half a second passes when he finally speaks, "Strangers with stories are like ghosts passing. They don't know you but they keep your deepest secrets."

She draws back, visibly humoured by the man she couldn't even recognise a week or two ago.

"You believe in those hocus-pocus supernatural paranomal?"

"No. They're just some stuffs I got from the net in middle school. Though it is pretty reassuring to talk to strangers since they are likely to forget about it all in due time."

The woman watches his intense brows arch confidently, not a little distrustful unlike her good-for-nothing ex-fiancé.

"So you'll forget about mine too? Someday?"

"Doubt so."

"Why not?"

"Because we're strangers with affinity." Sehun conceals a grin.

"Cool." She bemuses, "I'll hold you to that then, stranger."

The thing about her smile is, it's all pretty and bright, but the entire picture is tainted in abandoned sorrow.

"You've told me a chunk of your life, the personal one at that, yet, I don't even know somethings as simple as your name."

But all she says is a reassurance, praying the future will tell, as if it's been resting at the corners of her lips for eternity.

"It will come to you naturally."

It's as if she's promising him.
 

It's 2AM the next time they meet up and find themselves stranded at the upper-class condominiums in the heart of Seoul, carrying massive weapons of intended destruction.

She's in simple grainy track pants and wooly hoodie whilst Sehun is flaunting a snow white crew shirt and blue skinny ripped denim. Perhaps, it's a first for them to be dressed in comfort that they both end up breaking into a good-natured grin. She looks like your next-door neighbour while he looks like a rebellious ruffian teen.

"Are you sure this is not illegal?" His voice wavers at the croak of an owl from nowhere.

"If you're gonna be edgy then leave now, Sehun."

Sehun spins her around by the wrist and clucks his tongue. "Tsk. Say that again. I'm the man here, okay? But a man is only just a regular citizen who's very much afraid to break the law and go to jail."

"And what would the charge be, regular citizen?" She lets out a belittling snicker, "Getting in trouble with baking ingredients?" While at that, she sways the two loaded plastics in her grasp.

"No," Sehun hums calmly, "for assault and vandalism of private property AND doing crazy bat stuff at someone-I-don't-even-know-of's house."

The woman makes an eye roll so it doesn't get missed by the guy. "Coward."

Despite protesting, Sehun brings himself to follow her all the way to their intended destination.

It's a polished house, with high ceramic stone walls and green pristine imperial gates that can only belong to an influential family, exclusively for the elites.

"Holy .." Sehun marvels wide-eyed, glassy with pure admiration, "Your ex is ricー"

"Is that important? He dumped me over a freaking message. I'm just releasing some of my frustration. So are you helping, or nah?"

Sehun smirks. He rings the doorbell and they flee behind a thick bush made for camouflaging, as if students playing truant. She has her heart jumping out of her ribcage as she anticipates the familiar guy with soft features who likes to keep his ash hair gelled and combed.

The grand door opens but he's not alone. She sees a woman tagging along by his side, someone she's never met before, arm-in-arm, even more gorgeous with an ideal height, and it makes her head whirl with ache and betrayal as the mistress brushes her face into his neck like how she used to do so.

"Jaehyun," She derides, breathing out snidely, "that jerk."

"I thought you said he dumped you for personal reasons." Sehun haughtily whispers as he observes the unsuspecting adulterous pair making out before them.

"Me too... Until tonight."

She wasn't dumped, she's a fool who only realized she was cheated till later.

"You're right, Sehun." She sounds not all convinced from 15 minutes ago, but more like, a sagging doll who lost her owner, "This was probably a pointless idea from the start. Let's forget it."

Ultimately, Sehun trails his vision down to her trembling fingers that have gone icky with gooey yellow concoction from subconsciously crushing the egg carton. From hatred? Anger? Bitterness? Sorrow? He can't pick for sure but it's far from positive. He spares her a sorry graze.

A mild sentiment of defensiveness ignites in him.

"Give me that." Sehun orders sternly.

"Hey waitㅡ"

He springs up and with swift and nimble movements, aims it straight at the couple tallied with a spot-on target hit.

"What the hell?!" The mistress shrieks in horror, "My hair!"

"Who's there?! Show yourself!"

"Now you try it." Sehun crouches next to her, feeling more riled up than he should be, and offers a new egg to her like the devil's advocate, "Go on. You deserve it."

Somehow, her solitude flusters melt with how solid his presence brings. With new found determination, timid yet empowered, she hurls the fresh egg and the pair gets humiliated a second time.

It happened in a jiffy when Sehun suddenly laces their palms. "Now run!"

And there they go, like wild kids on the loose in the wake of the night, except they aren't really kids anymore but just two young adults together who are lost but not found, trying to spark fun and wreck some havoc and comfort their souls.

Their sports shoes crunch under snapped twigs, simultaneously contributing to the sounds of tremendous panting. Has it ever echoed this loud before?

Water is slipping off her eyes, possibly sweat and tears from glee in adrenaline rush as she sprints into the dawn. Perhaps, Sehun thinks that if he can pluck all the stars in the universe and fill them in her eyes, they can twinkle more under this eclipse, perhaps, she can have more than just contentment.

Because Sehun has never had so much fun with nobody in a long time.
 

“.” She hisses as the taste of a new glass of whisky touches her lips. The first sip is always warm, before the ice melts and starts to cool the amber liquid.

"Lightweight." Sehun snorts with mockery.

"Shut up, I rarely drink."

They're together again one night, imitating a routine to find a way back to the bar. Just because.

At twelve, they nurse lethargic souls from chaotic adult priorities with the symphony band and an addition of intoxicated uncles hollering across the quarters, which can be mistaken for some predicted football game being broadcasted.

She chooses whiskey today; not her mundane choice but Sehun's special recommendation, just so to commemorate this new lease of happiness gifted to her after removing a few toxin from her past. Like burning off all photographs and recordings of her last love. Also the diamond carat that has left a visible dent on her fourth finger, but she doesn't pay much relevance to itー it'll go away sooner or later.

"The time we whipped up in a gambling rendezvous just for your single report journal was by far my most dangerous moment in life next to when we threw eggs at that couple." Sehun reminisces, destroying his cigarette stub on his beer before enjoying an appreciative sip, "It just, feels nostalgic, you know? I feel like I've done this a lot. Like before this. Way before this."

Dasom tries not to wonder how daft the sour liquid feels down Sehun's prominent adam's apple because it's a theory she'll never get a loop around and would rather not start, even.

"About Jaehyun," This time, she's the one to open up, "I lied actually. I sold my apartment in Seoul not because I was bored. But because, I didn't want to see him anymore."

A faint tint of blush creeps up Sehun's cheeks but it's not because of the beer; more for the logic that she's telling another one of her secrets to himㅡ a not so total stranger.

Sehun agrees with a light tilt, "An escape would be nice sometimes."

"He said the spark in our relationship extinguished. Excuses were common because of work schedules." She scoffs, "Our honeymoon period was over. We grew apart."

Sehun can tell it makes her upset; talking about downsizing her house is akin to shortchanging her efforts she's spared aside for what she thought could've been her matching soulmate.

"Jaehyun is a loser."

She can only giggle at his wrenching-yet-underlined-with-protectiveness comment.

But Sehun is not quite done yet.

"I want to know the person you are when you’re all alone at night in the darkness of your room." Sehun suddenly admits, "The raw and real you."

They woman brushes her hair off her shoulder. "She's not what you think she is. You wouldn’t like that person." She says in all honesty.

"Let me be the judge of that."

Their knuckles and shoulders are bumping but all they do is sink back on plush embroidery cushions and aging sofa. Maybe they've skipped a day or two between today and yesterday where they've grown slightly more intimate, somehow between all their laughs and long-winded drowsy proses and stupid catfights amidst lame jokes, everything seems to have already fall naturally in place.

She makes Sehun feel so undefined, a type of sin he never knew existed but now look forward to committing very much.

"We've come this far, won't you tell me your name already?"

She's just a marionette when she's nameless. Sehun thinks that her name will remove her mask.

Uncannily, she puts on the loveliest of all her smiles yet. She stayed true to her words.

"It's Dasom. Kim Dasom."
 

Sehun sits in one day during summer of February and scowls at the two whisky atop the table. Dasom's allergic to it ever since that fervent rashes breakout yet she still orders it because it's Sehun fave.

He's about to lash out at her for being a senseless idiot and to stop thinking about others first when he comes upon grim staining her beautiful, glistening face instead of her usual black clothes, sending him in a foreign spiral of concern and fright.

"My editor laid me off. Said my previous article didn't meet quality content. He should've given me an early notice Iㅡ I couldn't pay my overdue rent." She cries all vulnerable with perplexity, "I don't have anywhere to go."

Her eyes flicker to Sehun and unlike her overwhelmed and distraught ones, his are serene and calm.

Sehun looks at her, really looks at her attentively, from under his lashes. Luminescence from the neon signboard skitters down her face, enhancing all of the soft pores and porcelain flesh, and Sehun believes Dasom's so remarkably frail like this.

Yet still so irrevocably beautiful.

"Then, come live with me."

Dasom stops weeping because she can't process anything. She refuses to say anything so she just continues to search deep into his hooded eyes, well aware that he's closing the distance between them and counts rapid unsteady heartbeats until his soft quivering lips are pressed against hers and she thinks, she understands a little now.
 

Their conversation dawdles until only midnight because Sehun's expecting a friend.

They’re leaning against the railing in the bar's tiny balcony. Sehun is next to Dasom, propped up on his dusty elbows and doing nothing— just admiring her in casual along with constellations above the milky way that connects to the four moles on her face; one below her bottom lip, two on the edge of her jaw, and Sehun's favourite is the beauty mark below her left eye.

Meanwhile, Dasom is bent over the rusty metal, gauuging abnormal shapes with her fingers to measure the length of an abandoned oak tree, one arm tucked under her bossom and head bobbing to the tune of indie music. Sehun thinks she's unstoppable because she's rocking so hard for a mellow jam. Dasom no longer wears pure black; there's splashes of pastels on her which Sehun must have rubbed some of his.

"Do you want to know about my friend, Jongdae? We grew up in the same elementary."

Dasom nibbles on her lip. "I know that."

Sehun doesn't recall telling her vivid details about his school days. He's about to ask the psychic how when the windchime tinkles and their subject enters.

"Then, I'll leave now. See you at home." Dasom waves and evacuates towards the exit.

Sehun watches them cross paths, directly side-by-side. He detects Dasom's light nod but frowns when Jongdae totally ignores her and walks forward.

"Hey man, that's not cool. You could've said a simple 'Hi' to her even if she wasn't your type."

Jongdae looks around. "Who?" There's a hint of anxiety in his voice, "Are you drunk?"

Sehun exhales wistfully, "Forget it, let's go down to your restaurant."

“I’ve said many times that I wouldn’t touch the pans and grills again. But I’ve always been chef. And, I don’t know how it happened, but I accidentally on purpose wrote thirty recipes and I'm going to cook and you'll let me know what I think." Jongdae says as they march down the wooden stairs.

Sehun and Jongdae may have both shared the same passion for cross-country back then, but they're completely on different tracks currently. Jongdae is going wild on his success road to culinary, seizing each chance to travel to every continent across the oceans. Albeit he may be a carefree chap like Sehun, he can be a bit uptight when duty calls.

"So you're going to take over your Dad's restaurant?"

"In future, maybe."

"Awesome! I can dine with my girlfriend for free then." Sehun jokes.

"Girlfriend?" Jongdae narrows his orbs dubiously, "You already found one?"

"Yeah, you know the girl you blatantly disregarded by the door earlier? That's her. Well, since I haven't ask her out officially yet." Sehun balks as he shizzles salt and paprika onto their golden truffle fries, "See, this is why you should never be mean to anyone because, karma."

"But Sehun, I really didn't see—"

"Fine fine," Sehun holds out his palm, "just don't do that again."

He continues stuffing the scrumptious potato sticks into his mouth but stops when he sees Jongdae seemingly still affected by his comment.

"Gosh, chill okay?" Sehun offers the fry in his hand to his motionless partner, "I was just joking."

"Oh, you were just joking? Yeah..." Jongdae lets out a laugh that sounds nervous rather than natural, "Of course you were."

Sehun sighs inwardly. He'll just introduce Dasom properly next time.

Jongdae has never had a funny bone but he didn't have to go so rigid over a harmless tease. Suddenly, the fries don't taste appetising anymore.
 

"Sehun! I have something to tell you!" Dasom dashes in her monochrome belted A-line skirt and formal cuffed blouse.

"Me too." Sehun smiles.

"Oh oh, wait! Me first!" She bounces in the living room, all excited with crumpled papers that has bold print of 'ACCEPTANCE' sifting through her fingers. "Don't freak out, but I got the new job! They totally like me! I'm going back to being a journalist! Awesome!"

If Sehun had a compact mirror at hand, he would've shine it straight to her face and tell her she's the one freaking out, not him, squeaking in an oddly high-pitch then unrelentingly.

The only difference is instead, her euphoria is cut chaste when Sehun cups the rising apples of her flushed, rosy cheeks and kisses her long and deep with passion. Dasom freezes with glossy eyes as wide as saucers before relenting and greeting the entrance of his impatient hot tongue, nothing like the first sacred peck they shared— this is needy and urgent.

Yet she prefers to take this euphoria over others any day.

Sehun blames gravity when they are sent tumbling down the ground with a thud, bashful brushing nose tips, with Dasom breathing atop his strong body though he may or may not have actually been responsible for tripping the both of them.

"This is what I have to tell you."

After what seemed like eternity, Sehun thumbs her warm lips, smudging some maroon, feeling proud of the ravishing mess he'd created, before he looks at Dasom straight in the eye to whisper meaningful words; those words she's seen in movie dialogues that sings like sweets and paradise to her ears.

"I don't know what you did, or how you did it, but I think I've completely fallen for you."
 

"You know about the bar above, my dad is thinking of expanding that too."

Sehun gapes in amazement. "No way!"

"Yes way!" The corners of Jongdae's lips replicate something of an infamous cartoon character that Sehun can never put a finger to eversince he was 12 years old, "In fact, I invited my brother over and we can discuss this. You said your company was interested in investing, right?"

"Yeah, we are. Your brother..?" Sehun's head actually hurts a little trying to reconnect some snippets of his past.

The friends are discussing business over manly booze and some clubbing music today over sappy romance cantabiles at their usual crib. Apparently, most men in suit and tie and leather flenner shoes are doing the same thing too, so they're not special.

"Yeah, Kim Minseok. Remember? Captain of the soccer club? Gold medal? Nationals? Handsome senior?"

"Ah, that Minseok. Are you kidding me? I have the memory of an eagle." And Sehun unwillingly shivers not because of the air-conditioner in the midst of winter, but a composite deeply carved in him tells that he's impressive at lying.

"Haha, yeah." Jongdae gushes down a shot of vodka, "As long as it doesn't surpass that of an eagle, you're good."

Sehun thinks it won't be easy to decipher what his words mean through his limited wiring fuse, but the twinge in his ribcage is too loud to be dismissed. Suddenly, all the vibrant cinquillo and staunch lyrics fade a distance into an overwhelming solemnity— more lonely than alone, more terrorizing than fear.

In comes an orange head about the same height as Jongdae, well since, genes, has pretty monolids and he's the oldest among the trio yet has smooth baby skin that looks super youthful. Weirdly enough, Sehun feels green with envy of his reverse aging.

"Sehun my boy!" Minseok hugs him and throws a rough slam to his back where the youngster then grimaces from impact, "How have you been?"

"Still as strong as a bull I see." Sehun's lips form into a bright curve, "Never better, hyung."

Xiumin quickly scoffs, "Please just drop the formalities. You're like family to us."

Sehun gestures a heartwarming smile. The Kim brothers are always so amicable.

They exchange a couple of executive and managerial contacts. Occassionally, Jongdae brings up embarassing punishment moments Sehun went through and the latter almost wants to gnaw him in the oesophagus. Their camaraderie is still that of bickering good-naturedly but Jongdae frequently tops the hierarchy because he has a razor sharp tongue.

Tonight, musicians perform at customers' song requests and when the main vocalist, who appears old enough to be his Mom, coyly winks at him in the middle of, coincidentallyー the first love serenade of this night, Sehun has to mouth a tiny 'I'm not available, sorry', which earns sneaky nudges from both Jongdae and Minseok.

"You're quite a heavy drinker aren't you, Sehun." Minseok comments when the song almost approaches an end.

"Not really." Sehun harrumphs briskly while peeking an eye open from the circumference of his sherry glass, "I just happen to hold my liquor fairly well."

"But don't you think you should limit it to one glass at a time?" Jongdae chips in a whine as if Sehun owes him money for champagne.

"Huh?" He blinks when he connects the dots to the extra order, "Ah this, is for someone else. She's coming later, I hope you guys don't mind?"

"Certainly," Minseok speaks and bows humbly to musicians tuning and packing up their instruments, "not at all."

Sehun breaks into a grin when Dasom ascends in a daisy dress paired with black stockings over chocolate ankle boots.

"Oh guys, I want you to meet Dasom. My girlfriend."

The Kim brothers get striked with a unison disbelief. Jongdae bores holes in Sehun's face for a lengthy— his jaw drops into an unhidden gasp like he's being strangled while Minseok accidentally drops the glass from his hand in a stumble. They share a moment of disoriented stillness.

Sehun clears his throat, unsure of what they're doing in front of their new guest, "Guys?"

Jongdae and Minseok exchange a cautious look, transcribing soundless signals, before the older brother snaps out of it to plaster a stiff smile gobsmacked on his cherry lips.

"Y-Yeah.. Hello?" Minseok mumbles, staring at nothing in particular.

But Sehun is alert to notice despite not being the conversing party. Dasom greets politely and Sehun thinks she's unaware of their bizarre situation.

"Hello, I'm Kim Dasom."

Sehun wants to kick them in the shin for not returning the formal introduction but gives up when he sees how exasperatedly oblivious they are. Luckily she doesn't mind.

Dasom keeps quiet and blends the drink before her, taking a warm sip; the second sip is always nicer. In social situations, Sehun learns she never knows what to do with her fingers. Because sometimes, she'll randomly order soda on their dates, just so she could hold them— even if they were already bloated as . Right now albiet, she may come off cool and collected but for all you know, she could be a disastrous shamble inside while meeting his best buddies.

But what surprises the former the most, is the fact that the Kim brothers have gone drastically dead silent and unfriendly.

"I like my salad tossed with lots of greens." Notably, Dasom is still able to radiate her brightness in the middle of their disconcerting atmosphere. Sehun is thankful she's working earnestly in befriending his circle, "Sehun is a full-blooded carnivore though. Tsk tsk."

"Hey, I do take my vegetables, okay? You just don't see it." He laughs heartily, "Right, Jongdae?"

"Huh?" Jongdae jumps up in a startle.

"During fifth grade, right?"

"Mm?" Jongdae says in a daze, "Yeah, he, uh, takes a, uh, lot of cabbages during lunch.."

"You okay, Jongdae?" Sehun shoots up a questioning brow.

"Me? Yeah."

Dasom squeezes his hand. "Dont worry, it's probably just really late and they're getting tired."

"Probably... but are you two really okay?" Sehun engages skeptically, "You've turned pale as sheet.."

Minseok blinks, this time his voice finding more resolute to amend the situation.

"We're fine, Sehun. Don't mind us."

Alas— for some reason, Sehun minds it, a little too much, because he neither got rid of that ominous vibe, nor ever had a clue to pinpoint the cause to it; like the calm before storm.
 

"My wish is to," Dasom mumbles incoherently one sunny Sunday through a pen cap between her teeth and Sharpie marker in dirty graphite knuckles trying her best to draw Sehun's portrait, miserably failing at that, "write a full page spread in the tabloid papers about you— OH. SEHUN. DON'T. MOVE!"

Sehun shifts slightly but halts when she sends him a death glare while still trying to outline his superiorly-sculpted godly features.

"And what's the headline going to be?" He asks with minimal contraction on his face like a statue just to appease his girlfriend's desire.

"Hmm," She contemplates aloud, "somewhere between the x and y parallel axis of I hate you that I want to choke you but at the same time I love you that I need to kiss you everywhere too."

"Alright space geek, is that even newsworthy to the public?"

"Not really." She grins sheepishly with shy naviety despite her bold confession, "But I still want to tell it to the whole world."

"Why don't you just switch careers and sell your drawings of me? Who knows, they might fetch a high price since I'm handsome."

"No. I don't like sharing you."

"Selfish now, aren't we?" He smirks.

"First, you need to learn some humility—"

Sehun reaches over to ruffle her smooth brown braids affectionately (and placate), then smothering her into a hug, this round completely ignoring her jealousy and childish warnings of stubborn 'don'ts'.

"Silly girl."
 

Sehun wakes up the next morning with throbbing eyelids from insomnia and an acidic aftertaste swirling in his mouth along with a ringing phone call.

"Hey Sehun, this is Jongdae. How are you? Are you coping? Or injured? Does your head, i don't know— sorta hurt?"

"Well Jongdae, I'm 100% fine and was very much peacefully sleeping before this, thanks for the random concern dude." He answers sarcastically.

"Hahahahahaha. Um, by the way, have you taken your pills today?"

"Pills?" Sehun parrots. He sits up whilst rubbing his groggy vision slits, eyes dartting around the room, only to land onto the green casing next to his folded tie, "The red sweets?"

"Sweets?" Jongdae pauses on the line, "Ah yeah, those sweets."

"You're a joker. I'll take it whenever I feel like it, obviously?" He enquires in semi-comatose, "Is that why you're calling me so early in the morning? Because of some mere sweets?" Sehun thinks his friend is pranking him.

"Haha, yeah. Just checking? Sorry. Don't skip them, okay? Bye."

"Damn you Jongdae, it's only 6:49AM.." Sehun grumbles in a slumber after hanging up.

He wants to present the most annoying bestfriend award to Jongdae, no doubt.
 

It's through unforseen dangers that it dawns upon Dasomㅡ Sehun's feelings for her are not mere shallow, but something greater than skin deep.

"I said, I'm waiting for someone." She groans in exasperation, wriggling her elbow out but the scavenger is too big her match.

"Let's go somewhere to wait for him then." He slurs and a stench of pungent and stout invades her nostrils, alarming her high defenses. No one is stupid enough to be out on a drizzling rainy street; the alleys are poorly infastructed and it seperates them from the nearest human traffic.

"No." Like a deer in headlights, Dasom only seethes harder, surging up her bravest front, "Let me go!"

The hold on her arm drastically jerks off when Sehun suddenly charges and lands a fist across his jaw.

"I'll kill you if you touch what's mine." Sehun barks.

She's shivering like a leaf by the time Sehun drives home and it's their first fight afterall so the only sounds echoeing are the motor engine and reveberating ventilators without baffled words.

"I told you to wait in the restaurant, Dasom. Do you know how worried I was when I couldn't get through you?!" His aura is dark and chilly like the thunder and there's no warmth while his grip on the sterrering wheel is heavily strained with potruding skinny veins. There's too high a pressure for such a cramped convertible.

"Sehun, I'm so sorry... All I wanted was to see you sooner."

He purses his lips hard and swallows, seemingly holding back a scolding when she's shrinked into a sobbing mess herself. How can he when she looks so frail and vulnerable right now?

"He didn't do anything improper, did he?" Because if he actually did, Sehun might just go berserk.

She shakes her head meekly. "No.. thankfully."

"Good.." Sehun heaves out a relieved breath and screeches over at a curb. He  his fingers comfortingly through her long locks and snuggles her into his broad chest, kissing the crown of her head. Dasom whiffs in his masculine peppery Dior Sauvage cologne and perhaps, his guarded arms are the safest haven to take refuge.

He mouths against her ear, "God you're so important to me, I don't know what I'll ever do if anything untoward happens to you."
 

"Sehun, can I talk to you for a sec?"

The