"Let me see it," Sehun says, almost gently, almost as if he actually cares. Jongin cringes away from his touch, but Sehun’s hold is a vice grip on his ankle, and he has never exactly been strong against him. He relents, and fixes his eyes outside the window. Sehun’s fingers caress his skin, his insole before they clean the wound on his ankle. It was not another incident of self harm, but earlier when they were arguing, he’d irrationally thrown a vase beside Sehun’s head. It hit the wall, but a shard hurt him in the back of his hand anyway. Furious, Jongin intentionally walked over the broken vase to hurt himself. Now that he thinks about it, he wonders if it was too dramatic of him; but nothing matters because he wants Sehun out, but Sehun does not seem to harbour any intention to leave him alone.

 

He is tired, he is hungry, and his eyes feel heavier than the weight on his shoulders. He wants to rest for a while. The past few days have been too rough on him, rougher than his life has ever been on him in all the years he has spent living like an outcast.

 

When Sehun rubs him on his ankle, he barely shows an emotion. Sehun looks up at him, his huge hands feel clammy on his ankle, but he says nothing. “You miss him,” he says, and then sighs. He answers nothing. “It’s alright, you know. I miss him too. What happened was tragic, and it was not his time to go. Neither from your life, nor from… mine. Heck, I don’t even remember the last time I talked to him like a brother. He did that all that time, but me. I did not.”

 

Jongin takes his leg back from Sehun’s hold, and pulls both the legs to his chest. He hugs them, his chin rests on his knees. He remains silent.

 

“There’s a lot that you feel, and I do not,” Sehun continues, why? Jongin does not know anymore, “Jongin, I am sorry for what you have lost. I am sorry for bringing this all up all of a sudden as well. You don’t deserve it, and I get it if you don’t even want to talk about it right now. But,” he swallows, his arm, a mess of corded muscles, stretches to take hold of his hand. Jongin jerks his touch away. Sehun sighs. “I hope you consider this. We have to do this, Jongin, to keep the company.”

 

He remains mum.

 

“Do you want to eat something? Should I go and buy something for you?”

 

He keeps his silence.

 

Sehun swallows. “Alright, I will leave you to you. I just… I will come back tomorrow, okay? If you need something, you can hit me up right away. I,” he stops and says nothing more. He gets up, pats him on his bony shoulder before he walks out of the apartment. After he leaves, all that Jongin is left with is deafening silence. Whatever it was in the presence of Sehun is gone. It's silence; the calm though is still far from the reach of him.

 

He stays curled right where he is, and allows his eyes to grow heavier by each second he spends alone. Perhaps if he sleeps for a long time, the ache in his heart will stop; perhaps by then his heart will understand there's nothing to be done but to accept it as it is. He swallows and cries, but otherwise remains silent and curled on the floor.

 

O0O0O

 

The next time he wakes up, in the afternoon, he’s on the bed even though he clearly remembers sleeping on the floor. Surprised and worried, he sits up straight on the bed, his thoughts falter a little at the sudden moment, before he looks around the room. He finds no soul. He pushes the comforter aside, and gets off the bed. There’s some sounds coming from the living room. He tells himself that he needs to worry about it because he lives alone. He expects none on the other side of the door, yet when he sees Sehun shuffling through the room, he finds that he is not surprised at the finding at all. All he feels is a heaviness that he has been feeling a lot these days. Sehun, though much different than his lover, shares a lot of Chanyeol than many men do. When he stands there, tall and proud, brawny framed, and too confident in his skin even though he has a hundred foibles within, he reminds Jongin of Chanyeol.

 

The comparison does nothing to soothe his aching heart. He stares at the man, who’s been shirtless for how long Jongin cannot guess, until Sehun turns to him. He looks like he has not even taken a wink of sleep, and yet Jongin knows that he never went to his own house last night. He must have waited for hours outside his apartment before he came inside. He does not know what to think of it. Much of the living room walls are painted in deep red, and the color brings some life to the place like never before. It’s kind of attractive, if Jongin allows himself to admit, then he will to the man. He remains mum. After all, it was he who bought that color.

 

“You’re awake,” Sehun says, not sounding surprised. He completely turns to him.

 

Jongin looks away from his very chest. “Why are you here again?”

 

“Did I not promise you last night I will be here?”

 

“Is it necessary?”

 

“Yes,” he answers, and turns with the roller in his hand. “I guess you could use some help with your apartment. It’s a nice color that you chose, though. Red. Sultry.” He points with his free hand to somewhere on the other side of the room. “There’s food. You can go and get fresh. You can eat.”

 

He presses his lips in a thin line, tiredness still heavy on his shoulders. "I'd like to sleep some more instead." He does not bother asking Sehun if it were him who had carried him to the bed. He does not need to. He knows Sehun did that; there's no other logical explanation to that.

 

Sehun turns to him, as if surprised. "Okay," he stammers a little, his cheeks flushed, "of course, you can. Sleep. I will, uh, go on with this. It's kind of cool. I have never done it before! But, it's kind of cool."

 

Jongin does not grace him with a reply before he walks out of the room. He steps into his bedroom, and closes the door behind him lest Sehun decides to be a creep, and crawls under the covers as sleep weighs heavier on him by the passing second. He thinks of Chanyeol, and he thinks of the empty spaces in and around him, and he cries. He wonders if Chanyeol wanted to say something to him before he died. The thought, as sudden as it is, brings a new kind of ache to his heart; this time it's unshakeable. It's enough to keep him sad through his sleep and his dreams that no longer are colorful; everything that there is in grey and blacks.

 

Like it used to be before, long before Chanyeol happened.

 

When he wakes up next it’s night. Sehun is done with the living room, and he says he will start working in the kitchen by the next day. Jongin does not bother with a reply. When they eat, finally, it’s silent. Sehun receives a call and he comes back, huffing and puffing and speaks filth under his breath for someone who Jongin does not know much. He stays focused on his food, and yet he eats little, but it’s enough to keep him uptight for a while. Sehun, all of a sudden, slams a hand down on the table. If he were in the mood, he would have called Sehun dramatic; he has always been the attention seeker, and he remembers Chanyeol telling him over and over again that Sehun is capable of doing anything if he wants attention on him; it’s mostly from his family or the media itself. Now, what is the reason, he does not know. However the sudden movement scares him enough that he chokes on his food, and scrambles to get the glass of water.

 

“I am sorry about that,” he says, but he does not sound apologetic at all. Jongin is not surprised. Chanyeol warned him about his brother tons of time, that’s why he does not understand why Chanyeol would ask Sehun of all people to be with him. Sehun grimaces. “I will clean this all up.” He definitely does not have a habit of cleaning after himself, and yet here he is, cleaning everything as if he cannot hire a maid right away if he wants. Jongin thinks he should appreciate him; at least he is transparent that he wants something from him and that’s why he is doing everything that he would not in other circumstances. Sehun comes back minutes later, he takes too long to clean the dishes, and by the time he comes back, Jongin has reclined against the couch in the living room, eyes once again looking out of the window. He was probably figuring out how to make sure the dishes were actually cleaned.

 

“Jongin,” he says, “I cleaned the dishes.”

 

What is Jongin supposed to say now? Wow, great, kudos to you! because I don’t know how to wash dishes. He remains mum, eyes ahead at the night sky.

 

“Um,” he begins again, sounding hesitant, “Jongin, I… my parents want to--”

 

--talk to you. He finishes inside his head. He knows exactly where Sehun is heading with his words and thoughts. They want to talk about the marriage, and the plans. They may say some sweet words to you about Chanyeol’s death, they may try to get on your good side--as much as possible that is--but they will not try much. They want you to surrender, and they won’t stop until that happens. So talk to them, and say ‘yes’ to this marriage that you so much do not want at all. Jongin, I need you to know I will never force--

 

“--you. If I could stop this, I will. Because I know neither you want it nor me, and it’s not even the right time for something such as that.” He stops. Jongin feels the weight of his gaze on him, he barely manages to not shift where he’s seated. “Jongin,” Sehun says, softer this time. Jongin supposes if Sehun were an actor, he would have done great at it; “don’t stay silent all the time. It unnerves me. You know I don’t want it either, but I have to follow the words as well. I have to take the responsibility as well. You have to understand it’s not just you--” he stops when the doorbell rings.

 

He reaches it before Sehun does, because he feels that he needs to take this one. When he opens the door and finds Baekhyun on the other side of it, he sobs and hugs the man as tight as possible. “Baekhyun,” he cries, holding tight onto the older man’s broad shoulders. It suddenly feels like he can’t stand anymore. The death of his lover suddenly hits him like a brick, truer this time, realer this time because it’s undeniable now. Chanyeol is dead, and all that he is left with is the impending loneliness and silence that persist even in his dreams. Baekhyun’s arms are wound tight around his waist, they almost squeeze him too much, and the pain that comes with such a vice grip almost provides him with the comfort that he knows he missed for a long time now. Baekhyun comes as the smell of familiarity, and home, of Chanyeol. He clutches on his shoulders before he sobs some more. Baekhyun is just as wretched as him.

 

O0O0O

 

Baekhyun is Chanyeol’s best friend.

 

When they first met, they rambled about the awesomeness of themselves, because Baekhyun never stopped reciting tales of how much more he knew Chanyeol than Jongin did, and how much he could not wait for Chanyeol to drop his . It was only then that Chanyeol spoke, badgering his best friend about his unnecessary ‘audacity’ much to the pleasure of Jongin. However, it was only when they were about to go their separate ways that Baekhyun apologised to him and told him that he was just teasing him. After that, it was easy to fall into a pattern that Baekhyun became an important part of. They quickly became quick friends and whenever Chanyeol was absent, he was present.

 

Baekhyun has thus been a very important part of his life. That is why it’s so easy to allow Baekhyun to see everything that he’s been hiding after the death of his lover. Baekhyun, though bereaving just as much as him (or perhaps more because Chanyeol and he had been friends longer than Jongin can possibly imagine in the state of mind that he is currently dealing with), speaks nothing. All that he does is listen, perhaps because he understands that Jongin needs it. Jongin appreciates the kindness more than he can thank Baekhyun for; he appreciates Baekhyun’s presence in his life, and more than anything hopes that Baekhyun stays even though Chanyeol has left.

 

Baekhyun’s hands, though smaller than Chanyeol’s, are wound tight around his waist, but his hold is just as tenacious as Chanyeol’s was; it’s almost like he’s unwilling to let go, in case Jongin shatters all over again. He knows. He knows all that there is to know about him, and his habit of self-harm (even though he has never openly commented on it). He knows, and such knowledge brings fresh tears into his eyes.

 

“Hey,” Baekhyun says, and wipes the tears from his eyes. His hands are cold on his heated cheeks, flushed as they are with all the tears that he shed in the past twenty minutes. “It’s alright,” Baekhyun says even though they both know nothing is. But, Baekhyun has the right to say it because he’s good with his words and the timings, and because he knows what needs to be spoken such as him; someone like him--what he is, he does not know either; but Baekhyun has always called me the naive flower, so perhaps that is what he is. Chanyeol loved calling him that, too, so he might as well accept it.

 

Baekhyun rubs his cheeks with the flat of his thumbs. “Hey,” he says again, “have you eaten anything?”

 

“Yes, just a while ago.”

 

Baekhyun hums and presses a hand to his tummy. “It’s flat as hell, I can feel your ribs, Jongin. Let’s eat something first, okay?”

 

“I don’t want to eat,” he sobs. “I will vomit.”

 

“Then I will clean it,” Baekhyun says, sternaly. “But, eat first. I am not talking to you otherwise.”

 

“But, Baekhyun…”

 

“Jongin,” Baekhyun sighs his name, like pretending to be okay is hurting him. “Let’s go and eat first, please? You look so… famished.” He runs his hands over his cheeks, his arms, and then over his tummy once again. "Chanyeol would not like it, you know that very well." All that Jongin knows are two things: first, Baekhyun knows his words well; second, he likes his words being followed. He swallows and then nods his head. “Alright,” Baekhyun mutters, and looks over at Sehun to find them glowering at them from the other side. He has been sitting for the long hour, glowering and wincing every now and then. Jongin wonders what’s going in his head. “I will go and buy something? You wait for me here, alright?”

 

He nods and gets off Baekhyun’s lap. Baekhyun gets up, straightens up, and glowers at Sehun in return. “The heck are you doing here?”

 

Sehun his head to the side. He seems smug and rude. “I am because I am.”

 

“You can leave,” Baekhyun answers calmly. He has never taken a great liking of Sehun; he perhaps knows more than Jongin does about Chanyeol and Sehun’s strained brotherhood. “You are not needed here.”

 

“I am here because I have to. You can leave, Baekhyun.”

 

“Sehun,” Baekhyun glowers harder. Jongin rarely sees him in this kind of expression; he has always been the kind that laughs and smiles the whole day, and that who takes lightly to everything for as long as possible, the whole day. However, seeing him like this reminds him of Chanyeol; whenever Sehun visited them, Chanyeol would be on the edge, too, barely held by him and his own self restraint.

 

The reminder, yet again, does nothing to soothe his aching and grieving heart.

 

"I look… I don't want to be here either. But, I have to be here." He clears his throat, and stands up anyway. "You know what, I'll leave. You can look after him, I know that very well. I don't have anything to worry about.'

 

"I don't think you ever had to worry about anything but who you're going to bring to your bed every night, Sehun," Baekhyun bites. Jongin does not understand why he can't let that go already. "In fact, you know what. Leave. I am not here to talk to you anyway."

 

The nimbus of irritation slips quickly about Sehun’s frame. “Of course, you would know me, Baekhyun--personal dog that you were of your innocent best friend.” He clicks his tongue when Baekhyun opens his mouth to snap at him again. “You know what. I’ll leave. I will. Leave.” Sehun turns to him, his eyes somewhat searching for an answer Jongin knows he will come back for, maybe tomorrow if not today again. “Make sure he eats,” he adds.

 

“Not like you care,” Baekhyun snaps, “leave,” he adds.

 

“I am,” he says, and leaves before Baekhyun can say another word.

 

When Baekhyun turns to him, Jongin avoids looking into his eyes. “I am not going to ask you what he was doing here, because I know what kind of person he is. But, avoid him, Jonginnie. I don’t trust a man who could not keep peace with his own brother.” He sighs and looks around. “Do you have something at home that I can quickly whip up?”

 

“Yeah.” He nods at the kitchen. “I guess,” he adds in a small voice.

 

Baekhyun is a bubbly sort of man, and he forgets the anger he harbours the next hour, but the same cannot be said when it comes to Sehun. Baekhyun, as much as Jongin has known him, has always hated Sehun's guts; Jongin does not know how long the fight has been going on, but he is sure, now, that it started long before he came into Chanyeol's life. This is why he finds himself at a loss of words when Baekhyun swears like a sailor in the kitchen and he's forced to wait on the couch.

 

To make the matters light, he tells Baekhyun that his swearing just makes him ten times more attractive to him. Baekhyun, though definitely not in the mood to do so, laughs. "God, Jongin," he says and then goes silent all over again. He does not say anything for a very long time, lost as he is, Jongin does not expect him to either.

 

See, the thing is: Baekhyun does not like to bereave; he's never had an event in his life that either traumatized or bereaved him; everyone in his family is living well and healthy, his dog is healthy, and even the staff working at his place are. It's fine in his life. That is exactly why Chanyeol's death has made him like this… a man who keeps on dealing with mood swings; a man that knows his dead best friend won't come back, but he tries to remain cheerful anyway, but isn't able to because the weight of the truth is too heavy for him to be able to breathe like a free man as well. He's trapped, and he does not even know that.

 

Jongin, on the other hand, has a habit of showing his emotions; he hides what he can, and shows what he cannot hide. His life, though not the worst of all the lives on this planet, has never been easy; it's been a mess, so much that bereavement is a constant companion and sadness a repetitive personality. His emotions and his feelings are out for the whole world to see, and he does not care. Mostly, because he knows, and tells himself, he would not survive much. His time will come, too, and he will leave soon as well. So, he shows. He does not try.

 

That is why they stand so differently; going through the same, but handling it differently than each other. Baekhyun has a habit of hiding everything, so he suffers and suffers, and then further confuses himself with the onslaught of emotions that he knows he needs to take care of instead of ignoring, but ignores them all anyway; Jongin has a habit of showing everything so he does not hold back, because he is well aware that he cannot hold back. That's their standing.

 

Perhaps that is why it's easier to keep words to himself, and his hands away from the blade when he's near Baekhyun.

 

He shakes, and looks down at his arms and then his bare thighs. If Baekhyun finds out about them--his shame--he would not know how to react. He does not even know how Baekhyun would react, if he would be just as kind as he has always been, or would be disgusted by what he is behind all that is his appearance.

 

But when he looks up at Baekhyun again, he has his eyes on him. He curls a little in shame. "A friend of mine was there once as well," Baekhyun says; "his life was not the most amazing, and he had much struggle in his day to day life. After a particular tragedy, it became worse," he keeps going on, telling the tale of whoever this unnamed friend is, "and then he thinks of his dreams. He had a lot of them, you know, and the questioning-yourself-forever could not take the heart away from them. So he thought of them day and night, and he wondered if he could ever go back to them again. He decided to take one step at a time.

 

"He walked up to the place where he knew his dreams would come true, and he stood there looking at it for several hours like an idiot." Baekhyun stops for a dramatic break, "He came back, but the whole keep questioning-yourself-forever is a bad thing, and it scared him with a hundred different what-ifs. But, still, the next day he went back to the place, and stared at it for several hours. He came back home again, and repeated everything all over again. He cried. He wept, and he wondered if he would ever be good enough for it. But! He did not realise one thing: he had already taken the first step. It was small, but it was the most important.

 

"So, the next day he went there again, repeated it all over again, and then followed the same for the next several days. One day, tired as he was of his own confusion and fear, he took a step inside the dream. That was his second step. When things went better than he had expected, he came running back home and cried himself to sleep again. However, he did not know that this time it was out of happiness. He was excited. In a very long time. Though it scared him, he went there the next day again anyway.

 

"He took another step inside, but this time he moved with his dream. It worked better than he expected, yet again. Then he tried the next day again, and he kept doing so because it felt amazing.” He stops, and in that split second Jongin wonders why Baekhyun is telling him any of this; does this have a significance that he does not see, or understand, or does not want to acknowledge? To say that he does not know what Baekhyun’s trying to tell him would be a life, because he knows. He just hopes Baekhyun is not talking about him, of all people. He does not want to think of a dream that left him before he could even get the chance to do the same to it. “One day all of a sudden he realised that he did not think about how he was before he took the first step. You know what that changed? Can you guess?”

 

“No,” he answers, because he does not want to.

 

“Maybe I will leave it up to you to guess then, but! I will say, Jonginnie, it all starts with the first step. It’s acceptance in this case.”

 

He rubs a hand down his arm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says in a small voice.

 

“You know exactly what I am talking about.” Baekhyun stops, his face is no longer bright. He looks sad. Jongin does not want to understand him. He passes Jongin his bowl of food. He does not bring anything for himself. “You have not accepted it yet, have you? That’s fine, Jonginnie. That’s perfectly normal. It’s only been a few days, and he deserves this in the least.” He stops and swallows. “But, you cannot stop, you know that right? You have to stop it,”--he does not need to think twice about what Baekhyun is talking about--“otherwise, it will never let you stop.”

 

He curls his legs under him. “Do you hate it?” He asks softly, almost pained and ashamed at asking such. He wonders what Baekhyun truly feels about this, regardless of what he answers.

 

“I hate it for hurting you,” Baekhyun stops, he seats himself some distance away from Jongin.

 

“Do you hate me for doing it then?”

 

“I could never hate you, Jongin, even if you backstab me right this second, I won’t. You’re not the kind of person I could ever hate.” He rubs his hands together. “You… promised Chanyeol, did you not?”

 

“I did,” he answers, embarrassed.

 

“Can you guess why he did not want this to happen again?”

 

His voice breaks when he answers. “Because it’s not good for me. He said it will push me to some place I would have a hard time finding my way back out.”

 

“Do you believe it, that it’s not good for you?”

 

He shifts where he’s seated. “You know it is,” he answers, a little hesitant.

 

“I asked if you believe it’s not good for you?”

 

“Yes,” he answers when Baekhyun seems like he would not back down without an answer. “I believe so, it hurts a lot, too.” He swallows, tears back in his eyes. His flushes red, and bile rises to his throat. Baekyun takes the bowl from his hands. Jongin appreciates it, because he knows he would have broken the ceramic with how shaky he is feeling all of a sudden. “It hurts, but it feels good, too.” It’s not a lie. It hurts. But, it feels good. It calms him down; the sight of blood, the feeling of the sting, everything calms him down. He wants to stay away, but he knows he cannot. Most of the time, almost all the time, it feels impossible to separate himself from it. “It’s calming.”

 

Baekhyun does not fight his answer, he doesn't even seem like he would. Instead, he speaks about something else. The weather. He talks about the weather. “It’s lovely today, is it not?” He asks, looking out of the window. His hands are fisted on his lap, and his jaw is locked tight. He looks angry, upset, and something more that Jongin cannot pinpoint for the life of him. “It’s windy today as well. You will have to wear something warm if you go out in this weather.”

 

He rubs his hands again. He feels cold all of a sudden. “Do you not want to talk about… it?” He feels embarrassment curling up his neck and almost smothering him with itself, but he hopes the shame is not visible to Baekhyun. He’s too respectful a man to witness what Jongin is; what he truly is: a mess made out of himself.

 

“Do you want me to talk about it?” The older man asks tiredly. That’s all he asks, but Jongin understands the meaning behind it anyway. He is asking for permission, but both know Jongin would not give it. He would not.

 

“No,” he answers. Baekhyun does not try anymore.

 

Baekhyun got to know about Chanyeol’s death long before Jongin did. In fact, it was Baekhyun who called him and asked him if he was okay. He asked in return what it meant, and perhaps it was then that Baekhyun realised he had not been informed of such. He was sobbing on the other side, and Jongin wondered to himself if something happened in Baekhyun’s family. It was only after a short break that Baekhyun told him about Chanyeol, and that was it. That was how he knew; that was how he knew of more than one thing.

 

If he has to think about it over and over again, which he promises he will not as he lies down under the covers with Baekhyun next to him, he would come to the same conclusion over again again. It’s the kind of conclusion that he would not admit to himself even in the silence of his life. So, to stay away from the truth of it all, he closes his eyes and wonders silently if Baekhyun would ever fall asleep.

 

O0O0O

 

Two days later, he meets Sehun again. This time it’s accidental, by the way Sehun reacts to the sight of him is too natural for him to doubt if Sehun decided to play his little game again. Sehun stops him before he can pass by him. “Hey,” he says, cherrily. Jongin hates him for it. He does not even know why. “Is Baekhyun gone? Or is he still at your place?”

 

Knowing that he would not leave without an answer, Jongin tells him that Baekhyun is going to live for some time, and that he is sleeping at his place right now.

 

Sehun clears his throat. “Did you tell him about that?”

 

Jongin’s fingers twitch to push him away. However, he knows he does not stand the chance against this man in a situation as his. He stops, breathes, and looks away from him. “No, I did not.”

 

“Hiding this from him won’t help you.”

 

“You’re speaking as if I already said yes to that stupid proposal of yours!”

 

Sehun’s jaw tightens. “You don’t have an option here.”

 

“Oh yes, you are to tell me that!”

 

“Look, Jongin, we are not going to have the same conversations over and over again. I am tired of repeating it to you, and I don’t understand how you do not get tired of not thinking about just yourself all the time! I told you it’s Chanyeol’s company, you just need to be a little less selfish and think about your dead lover for once as well!”

 

“He never liked the company,” he states simply; he’s affected by the words spoken to him, but he’s too scared to show Sehun such. He tells himself Sehun does not deserve to see that his words have worked--words that could have been spoonfed to him by his family. “You know that. That is why he never even tried to take it back from you. You know that.”

 

Sehun clenches his jaw. “It’s still his company though. He still worked for it; it’s still him who brought that company up from nothing. He changed it all for us, he changed the game. The least he deserves is that his company doesn’t die with him!” He snaps loud enough that it catches the attention of some passersby. Jongin curls in embarrassment. Sehun grabs his hands and brings him away from there. “You know what, I will bring you to some place. I am pretty sure you need to sort this out first.”

 

“Where?”

 

“You will see.” Sehun does not look at him, but Jongin notices the heavy guilt on his youthly features anyway. Sometimes Jongin soothes himself by thinking that Sehun must not be as he shows himself as; there must be some kindness left in there, or he must be hiding from everyone for the sake of… something or the other. Yet, that all does not justify why he’s always so with him. “Get in,” he opens his car door for him. “You need to see.”

 

“I am not going anywhere until you tell me where you’re taking me.”

 

Sehun takes a deep breath. He looks tired, yet again. Jongin pities him; he does not sympathize with him, he just pities this man at this stage. “You need to accept the truth first.”

 

Anger bursts in his veins at that. “Why is everyone trying to make me see the truth! I don’t want to see anything--let me go!”

 

Sehun has his hands on his biceps, grip vice enough that Jongin knows his fingers will leave marks on his unblemished skin. Sehun pulls him close, their faces mere inches away. He cringes and closes his eyes. “Why do you hate me so much?” Is what he asks, much to his surprise. He snaps open his eyes to notice something so unfamiliar in those black eyes that it almost gives him a whiplash. Sehun pulls back his face, and goes back to his mostly stoic expression. “You know what, just get in already.” Thus, he does the same, he pushes him in carelessly and like the rudest man that he is, closes the door with a slam and goes to his own seat. “Hate me all you want after this, I don’t care. But, you must see it.”

 

Jongin, heart heavy in his throat, does not fight. He closes his eyes. He feels too sick to even fight anymore anyway. He does not know where Sehun is bringing him, but he hopes against all hopes that it’s not a particular place.

 

However, he finds himself in the same place where he did not want to find himself just half an hour later.

 

When Sehun brings him to the cemetery, he tells himself that he hates none but Sehun; he always believed that the word ‘hate’ emitted too strong an emotion that he was not capable of, until this very moment when Sehun drags him inside the cemetery and stops them at a particular one. He stays rooted on his spot, and barely keeps his eyes anywhere but at his feet. He cannot look at what Sehun wants him to look at; he cannot do that, not now, not ever. He swallows when Sehun turns to him, fuming in his anger. He must be upset. He does not care.

 

Sehun stands in front of a particular grave, hands pocketed in his pants pocket. Jongin understands what it is, and who it belongs to. Fear crawls up his arms and almost smothers him. He looks away, and blinks back the tears that so much want to appear at a time like this.

 

“That is where Chanyeol is,” Sehun says cruelly, all of a sudden, his calm demeanour hidden behind the repressed anger; “I was there when they did that, when they gave him that space, you know.” He stops and turns around and walks to him, and hovers over his comparatively smaller frame. “I was there, and Chanyeol spoke nothing at that moment. He was dead. He was dead, and he would not say anything. Do you think I would steal from my brother--who’s been cold dead for days now? Steal you from my brother, you for whom I feel nothing at all?”

 

“You have stolen a lot from him,” he says, eyes still fixed on his feet. He does not dare look up, not into Sehun’s eyes nor at the grave. “Dead don’t speak,” he adds, trying hard to sound confident and composed, though he feels nothing of those. All he feels is a bone deep tiredness, and a harrowing sense of loneliness and a slight acceptance that his lover is not coming back, not when he has been cruelly given a physical proof of it. “You lie, you lie more than you breathe.”

 

“What exactly do you think about me? What kind of person do you perceive me as?” Sehun does not sound angry, nor he sounds upset. He just sounds curious and a hell lot of irritated. Good, perhaps if he knew he would leave him alone.

 

“I don’t know! Maybe leave me alone, and I will think that you at least have some kindness left in you.” He still avoids looking at his lover’s final resting place. “Maybe, actually, you’re an opportunist. Chanyeol always called you that anyway, so perhaps you are one. He was rarely wrong about people.”

 

Sehun sighs, and closes his eyes. He looks done. “You know what, denying me won’t help you living in peace either. It was Chanyeol who asked me to look after you, and I cannot do that if I have another spouse and not you. If not for me, then for his sake, think about it. The company we’re talking about is Chanyeol’s sweat and tears, not mine or even my family’s; the promise I made him was his wish, not mine.” He stops. Jongin thinks in that pause that he sounds incredibly business-man-like; negotiating with a rather gentle approach because he knows he would not be able to keep the facade for much long. It is what it is, and it’s out in the open. Sehun wants him to think, but he does not want to hear what he actually thinks; he wants him to speak what he wants to hear, nothing else beside it.

 

“Do it for Chanyeol.”

 

He snaps his eyes shut; he thinks the answer should be obvious for either of them, especially for him: he should just deny him, and if he bugs him more, he will file a restraining order on him. That’s easy, and he can do that, he has the resources to at least do that. Baekhyun will help him, he has his connections; he is a big man with a big name and big people associated with him. Yet, whenever he takes Chanyeol’s name, his resolve crumbles; his resolve to stay away from whatever this family is planning crumbles under the weight of Chanyeol’s name, and his apparent words and promise right before his death. He feels tired, and he feels incredibly lost, so much that if even Sehun hugs him this second, he will let him touch him and hold him so that he can have some place to cry about the misery of his heart without wondering if he’s going to be alone all over again.

 

Sehun takes a step further, he was in his space, and yet Jongin can look at nothing but the wide expanse of the land of the buried; dead and cold, and many of them forgotten by their own. Chanyeol, he tells himself, will never be forgotten, until he’s alive he will make sure of that. It’s a promise that he has made to himself. He thinks about that, and then he looks at his lover’s final place. Tears well up in his eyes, he’s sure a sob is stuck somewhere in his throat, rendering him throaty and in a need of some serious bawling.

 

“I am not… I don’t want to use you, Jongin,” Sehun says, and he sounds earnest, but Jongin does not know if he’s just trying to act kind and sweet when he feels nothing but a desperateness to have Jongin’s approval of the marriage that would bring the kind of attention that their family wants on it. “But, this is what Chanyeol wanted. I would--never do anything that you don’t want me to do. Think about Chanyeol, and say yes.”

 

Bereft of any answer, he asks Sehun to leave him alone. Sehun, reluctant, as if he thinks that Jongin may do something silly to himself here now that they’re at the place which will remind him of the lost love, remains standing where he is for the next few minutes. Jongin, finally tired of waiting, looks up into his eyes. He hopes he sounds irritated enough when he demands again, “leave me alone.”

 

Sehun hesitates. “Why? I cannot leave you here. It’s not safe,” he tries, and looks around them, “it’s late at night. I remember a conversation between Chanyeol and you, I overheard it, where you admitted that you don’t like being alone in the dark. I can't leave you alone. It’s the land of the dead--”

 

“Sehun, for God’s sake, leave me alone!” He cries, “what do you want me to say, huh? All I ask of you is to leave me alone, and yet you can’t do that. Do you even know how much of a miserable thing you are? You’re annoying, and you’re a bastard. Leave me alone.” The place is dark, and it’s murky, it’s dead--and Jongin reminds himself it’s the land of dead. Living don’t belong here, dead do. He does not want to be left here, but it is here that he will find what he has always wanted. “I just,” he closes his eyes. He thinks he should sound vulnerable at least, if Sehun wants that then that’s exactly what he will get. He does not have any fight left in him. Never had anyway. “I want to talk to him,” he says finally, “I want to be with him for some time, and… then we can leave, alright? Is that not why you brought me here?”

 

Sehun swallows and runs a hand through his hair. He looks conflicted at best and anxious at worst. “Alright,” he says finally, “alright. That sounds fine. You can go along.” He steps aside. “I will be in the car. When you’re done, you can come, alright. Don’t do anything silly!” He asks in an exclamation. “I will leave then.”

 

“Please,” he begs.

 

Even minutes after Sehun leaves, Jongin stands standing still where Sehun left him earlier; his breathing is loud, loud enough that a passerby can hear the whistle in it, and his face is flushed red in emotions that are hard to contain. Here in the silence of the dead, now that he has none to bother or entertain him, he thinks of the days and the nights spent with his dead lover; and the memories come easy, too, almost as if they all want to remind him what he has lost and what he can possibly never have again. It’s extremely cruel, but it’s the… truth, and such is why he closes his eyes and thinks of the last few hours with Chanyeol.

 

It was a Monday morning. Chanyeol had just come back from the gym, the one he liked to frequent during early hours of the day while he slept cocooned in the warmth left behind his lover. Sometimes he would give Chanyeol company at the gym, some days he would prefer to stay at home and sleep the hours away--most of the days were like so. Chanyeol came home by nine in the morning that day, he looked slightly ruffled by something but he went back to his usual cheery mood soon after.

 

(Now that Jongin stands in front of his lover’s grave, he wonders if a human knows their time has come. Had his lover felt it--that the hours of his life were about to end? Had he felt it? Had he seen and felt the inevitable sneaking closer to him by every passing second? Is that possible? Does that actually happen?)

 

After, when they were done with the breakfast, Chanyeol asked him if he wanted to go and visit this popular garden that he loved so much, and knew that Jongin liked it too. He answered that he would love to do so. Chanyeol smiled, his eyes as bright as they always were, and his smile--innocent, wide, and cherry the way Jongin liked. Chanyeol had his fingers splayed on his bare thighs; sometimes they would stay still, sometimes they would sing a song in gentle pitter-patter of the rough fingertips, and sometimes they would just sneakily run here and there, disturbing Jongin’ state of mind and pulling it further away from sanity; with Chanyeol, keeping his hands to himself always seemed the hardest job in the world. Chanyeol was a work of art; all burly muscled beneath his smooth skin; he was thick in his arms, his shoulders, and his chest. He was a handsome specimen, and just as cute. He was distracting at best, and unnervingly desirable at his worst. He drove Jongin up the proverbial wall.

 

“I was wondering,” Chanyeol began, his fingers close to Jongin’s sensitive skin. Chanyeol knew his way around Jongin’s body; he knew his body like the back of his hand. “After we marry, would you want to have, um,” he stopped, his fingers stopped their ministrations, “children. Our children?”

 

He blushed in embarrassment. Chanyeol knew what he wanted, he always did. “You know I do.”

 

Chanyeol swallowed, his face flushed red. “They would look beautiful, won’t they?”

 

He laughed, a little thing from the back of his throat. “You know they will.”

 

Chanyeol swallowed again. “Your skin,” he began, “your eyes, your mouth.”

 

He raised an eyebrow teasingly. “None of yours?”

 

“They definitely will. After all, it would be I who would have worked the hardest in making them,” He grinned cheekily.

 

He shrieked in laughter, shame high on his cheeks. He slapped Chanyeol’s hand away before he crawled into his lap. “Why don’t you begin it, then?” He asked shyly, and ran his hands through Chanyeol’s hair. “I want to see how they would look.”

 

“You would want that, won’t you?” He laid him down on the bed, and hovered over him. “You know I have no shame in putting my babies in you.”

 

Jongin closes his eyes. The tears fall anyway. He sobs and covers his mouth with both his hands. He knew, he asks himself now, he knew his time had come, didn’t he? Just when he’s about to fall on his knees, Sehun comes out of nowhere and catches him around his waist; his entrance is surprising, and Jongin hates him for it. However, he falls into his arms anyway. He tells himself he’s doing nothing wrong to ask for a little support in a time like this. As such, he justifies his presence in Sehun’s arms.

 

O0O0O

 

When Baekhyun hears of it, he snaps and creates havoc in and around himself. He’s furious, Jongin knows, but he won’t allow him to drive him to his end goals anymore. He wants freedom, and if his freedom comes from surrendering himself by marrying Sehun, he would do that too. He does not know why he’s doing this, or why he even decided upon this; letting this happen at all even though it does not make sense in the slightest. But, he has decided. He will marry Sehun, even if the Oh’s are more at advantage than Chanyeol. He does not care. Sehun was right. The company might have taken several steps away from what Chanyeol wanted out of it, but as long as he stays in the house, he thinks he can stir it back where it should go instead. Perhaps that would help. Perhaps the company that Chanyeol detested so much would come to be liked by people finally. Perhaps he can save what shamed Chanyeol and make him his pride instead. Maybe he can do that.

 

He rubs a hand down his arm. He will not allow Chanyeol to be forgotten. He will never be able to forgive himself if such happens. “I have to do this,” he repeats, more to Baekhyun than to himself. His ears are closed to his own words. He does not hear himself, even when he tells himself that he knows what he’s doing. He knows he does not know what he’s doing. He also knows he will end up regretting this, most probably. He also knows he will come to think of this as a mistake sooner than later--he’s not strong enough to provide Chanyeol the justice he deserves. It’s a shame, really.

 

“Do you even hear yourself?” Baekhyun questions. He sounds devastated. “Even if Chanyeol asked Sehun to promise him that--something that I believe never happened--I don’t understand why and how could you be so stupid to go into that family. There’s none for you there! Every single one of them is selfish, Jongin. They don’t care. They don’t care about Chanyeol either.”

 

“I know,” he softly answers, “I know that, Baekhyun.”

 

“Then why are you doing this? Tell me because I find no sense behind this at all.”

 

"I don't know," he answers truthfully.

 

Baekhyun swallows and turns around. Jongin notices the sharp rise and fall of the older man's broad shoulders, and tries to understand if the anger is directed at him. But, Baekhyun rarely shows his disappointment. He rarely shows anything at all. It's hard to read him.

 

"How can you so easily sway by this?" Baekhyun wonders aloud. "In that place, you'll be nothing but a piece of meat. People will look at you, admire you, and then forget you once they realise they can't take you to bed because you're Sehun's husband. That's all that you'll have value there." He turns to him, disappointment heavy on his face. "You're going the family Chanyeol wanted to run away from."

 

He does not bother with an answer, because he does not have one. He's confused himself, he cannot give an explanation to someone else if he needs one of his own.

 

"Jongin," Baekhyun swallows, he looks like he wants to say more--more than what is appropriate--but he stops in time. He does not say what he wants to say the most. "I'll not stop you if you've decided upon this. But, I want you to know I will be there if you ever need me."

 

"I can take care of myself well."

 

"I know." Baekhyun sighs, he does not have any fight left in him as well. Jongin has, as always, the life out of him. He tears up at his own series of thoughts. Baekhyun sits next to him, and curls a hand, small but rough, on his cheek. Baekhyun rubs his thumb under his eye. It’s a comfort. It’s soft, and kind. Jongin holds him dear for it. “Jongin,” Baekhyun sighs the name as if he has a lot to say, but he knows he cannot say, for whatever reason. Jongin does not prod him for it, because he believes everyone wants to say something that they don’t have the courage to say. It’s human. It’s in its nature. “Jongin, I--” Baekhyun does not say it. He, however, all of a sudden, presses a quick chaste kiss on his lips. Jongin, stunned and shocked by the touch of their mouths, widens his eyes and tears himself away from the touch of the older man. Baekhyun does not look hurt, because he knows; he does not even look embarrassed, because he believes.

 

“I am here, every single minute.” Baekhyun promises, so softly that Jongin thinks he’s asking Jongin to ruin him for anyone else.

 

That, to Jongin, sounds like a promise that he knows he will exploit, in his sheer vulnerability, in near future.