kyungsoo thinks he was ten when he first met sehun, lining up fourth for cotton candy at the school fair, or was it strawberry-flavored popcorn?he’s not too sure. he never was. but maybe that was exactly why when he stepped into the counter, he was given vanilla ice cream, instead. maybe the only thing he was completely sure of back then was laughing at 8-year-old sehun’s lisp as their mothers conversed about the difficulties of motherhood and the possibility of their children stepping into the same schools in the future.

true enough, kyungsoo and sehun attended the same middle school and high school together. kyungsoo was a level higher, but that didn’t keep him from befriending the witty and mischievous oh sehun. somewhere along the way, they became inseparable. they were completely different, polar opposites, yet very much alike in a special way. sehun preferred the sweetness of bubble tea, while kyungsoo settled for a mug of steaming black coffee; kyungsoo opted to stay at home with a book in hand, while sehun was known to be the life of the party. but their similarities were subtle and quiet. there were movies they would sit through, music they bobbed their heads to, or food they were willing to spend their weekly allowances on just because they can.

they were two halves of a whole, attached to the hip by some unbreakable bond of friendship and budding bromance, as chanyeol liked to put it, because when kyungsoo passed the university of his choice, sehun made sure he did, too.

or so he likes to tell kyungsoo.

because if there is one thing about sehun that one would associate him with, it is that he would tell you exactly what you wanted to hear in exchange for home-cooked meals, or perhaps that one frequent circumstance only applies to kyungsoo. it is quite a known fact that the shorter man, despite his piercing glare and intimidating taekwondo skills, is fond of sehun in a way that he would break anyone's neck without blinking if one attempts to make his best friend cry.

'he's feral,' baekhyun shudders at the memory of having been stuck in a headlock for a good ten minutes, chopsticks falling dramatically to the floor for emphasis. 'i thought it'd been the end of me.'

the university cafeteria is abuzz with post-vacation mayhem, i miss you's and tales of misadventures thrown carelessly into the air like a million s kyungsoo couldn't give. maybe sehun's stoicism is beginning to rub off on him, or perhaps some are just insensitive and rude enough to be screaming salutations too early in the morning.

'you were hitting on sehun with suggestive pick-up lines,' chanyeol snorts through his apple juice box, BLT sandwich half-forgotten on the table.

‘says the one who tries to woo yifan with pick-up lines on a daily basis!’ baekhyun pauses mid-bite. ‘oh, , woo yifan. woo yifan, wu yifan, get it? ha, i’m brilliant!’

but no one applauses. not even kyungsoo who, in very rare occasions, shares a laugh or two with baekhyun’s (crude) jokes. he does, however, laugh at the memory of baekhyun choking on his apologies a few days back, sehun beet red from mortification at baekhyun's failed attempts.

'you had it coming, ,' kyungsoo says, lips melding into a wickedly bemused grin that it almost makes baekhyun cower. 'you scared my best friend half to death with your ersion.'

'his makes me feel things,' baekhyun pouts, 'and stop babysitting sehun. he's 20, for 's sake. no pun intended.'

sometimes kyungsoo just seems to forget that sehun grew out of his diapers all those years ago. oh simple thing, where have you gone? kyungsoo remembers their childhood like it was just yesterday, the memories of melted ice cream cones and candy braces on hot summer days not so distant from where they stand, those days when sehun would cling onto kyungsoo before stepping into his own classroom in fear of being alone.

reality slaps kyungsoo back to the present when he catches sight of sehun walking towards them with an air of confidence and maturity, nodding towards their table with a smirk while strutting like the cafeteria is his makeshift catwalk.

baekhyun visibly gawks at his model-like stature, gulping down the last of his noodles in haste. ‘oh. hot. damn.’

‘watch it, byun,’ kyungsoo warns, but not before ruffling sehun’s hair and doting on him like a mother would about the lack of nutritional value of instant ramen and god damn it, bubble tea again?

'there is some serious mother complex going on here,' baekhyun winces, but he sees so clearly how much sehun actually relishes it, all crescent-eyed smiles and platonic love. perhaps he stares a bit too long that he feels kyungsoo's glare piercing through his soul, and he shifts his attention to chanyeol's odd eating habits, instead.

but the only instance kyungsoo really broke anyone's anything was when he'd caught sehun's ex-boyfriend making out with a freshman in a bathroom stall in between classes. the lewd noises that sound painfully like zi-ing-tao were enough to make kyungsoo kick the door open and slam his fist against zitao's bewildered face, his "perfect" nose drawing blood from the contact. zitao had cried, then, but kyungsoo regretted nothing at all, even as the traitor screamed bloody murder over his "damaged asset" and earning him a week’s detention and twenty hours of community service. sehun’s grateful but teary smile told him he’d done the right thing.

because for the twelve years kyungsoo has known sehun, he has already walked his best friend through two heartbreaks.

the first time wasn’t as terrible as infidelity, with luhan opting to continue studying abroad, but kyungsoo had held sehun’s hand through his sleepless nights crying over xiao lu’s decision. the latter heartbreak had made him much stronger, what kyungsoo would consider as the only good that ever came out of it. zitao was too much of a , anyway, you deserve way better.

and so the urge to protect his dongsaeng from narcissistic, selfish arseholes bloomed naturally (it may even have been the reason why kyungsoo earned himself a black belt much faster than his other classmates, but sehun need not know that) that even the rich and influential kim junmyeon from a couple of years ahead isn't allowed within a hundred meters from oh sehun (because kyungsoo claims that he looks at sehun like he is something to eat—have you been watching 'twilight' again, hyung?) despite his flashy cars and academic eloquence.

but when sehun, flushed and eyes downcast, tugs on his shirt one afternoon as he tucks his textbooks in his locker, kyungsoo braces himself for sehun's next words.

'hyung, i met someone.'
 

someone happens to be a history major and the captain of the university’s representative dance crew, with appeal that strikes you unaware, unprepared, by surprise. someone, being chanyeol’s object of fanaticism and one of baekhyun’s closest dongsaengs, who is also quite popular among the student body, but walks with his head bent low from lack of sleep and exhaustion, unknowingly catching the attention of passers-by with the unconscious sway of his hips. someone is—

‘kim jongin from your political history class.’

kyungsoo breathes on his glasses, wipes them with the hem of his shirt in silence and thought, eyes avoiding sehun that, for the latter, came across as disinterest and boredom. his laptop is warm atop his lap with his legs crossed across his bed.

sehun falls on his stomach beside kyungsoo, elbows propped to lift himself off the clean white sheets. ‘hyung, are you even listening?’

kyungsoo sights tiredly, guards up and fists ready for the possibility of a future heartbreak. ‘yes.’

the affirmation encourages sehun to carry on about his spiel, mouth shaped in absolute bliss and eyes crinkled with childlike fondness over kim jongin and his talent for dance, hyung, i’m trying out on friday—

‘wait, what?’ kyungsoo’s eyes widen, surprised and somewhat taken aback. ‘but i’ll be delivering my extemporaneous speech, then, sehun-ah.’

oh.

'you've forgotten, haven't you?'

'i haven't, i swear.'

'yeah?' kyungsoo crosses his arms with raised eyebrows. 'what time will it be?'

. ‘10? no, 3! err—12? no? yes?’

‘you’re pathetic,’ kyungsoo sighs exasperatedly. ‘it's at 2. you ing broke the bro code. bros always come before hoes. always, sehun.'

sehun rolls his eyes. ‘i’m pretty sure he’s not a hoe, hyung. mind you, he’s a bro, too.’

‘you’re missing the point, . i want you in the audience this friday.’

'then i'll be there!' sehun buries his face on the side of kyungsoo's thigh, arm snaking around his hyung's lap—a habit kyungsoo has grown accustomed to when sleep and exhaustion creep into sehun's bones. 'auditions are at 9 in the morning, anyway.'

before kyungsoo could utter another word, sehun's arm goes lax, snores soft with every part of his lips. he cards his fingers through his dongsaeng's hair, and he wonders when sehun had dyed it a lighter shade of brown, almost golden under the dim light of his room. ‘you’re growing up fast.’

and maybe it’s about time he accepts that.


 

the first time kyungsoo “meets” jongin, he spills milk all over his desk, whines about his lack of grace, and ends up storming out of the classroom in annoyance and misery over the ink that bled through the worksheets he’d been working on for a week.

jongin made an awful mistake of reaching over to bump fists with sehun, congratulations, welcome to the crew, when his elbow had hit the side of kyungsoo’s head just as the smaller man was sipping peacefully from his carton.

It had already been a particularly bad morning for kyungsoo, despite the gold medal from his speech delivery hanging loosely around sehun’s basketball trophy—he’d woken up late, almost stepping out of his apartment in boxers, and was nearly hit by a tomato truck while crossing the road, not to mention he’d forgotten to eat breakfast. needless to say, it had been hectic, and it greatly ruined kyungsoo’s mood even if a few classes after, sehun had brought him bibimbap and his now wasted carton of milk.

‘h-hyung,’ jongin stammers, eyeing an even more surprised sehun for s.o.s. ‘i-i’m so sorry, i’ll get you another—’

‘excuse me?’ kyungsoo’s eyes widen, irritation evident on his features that jongin unconsciously takes a step back in fear. ‘i’m not your hyung.’

and he walks out without looking back, ignoring sehun’s pleading, yet very disappointed eyes.

the second time isn’t as disastrous as kyungsoo had feared, but what comes as unexpected is jongin’s obvious anxiety when it comes to kyungsoo, like as if kyungsoo had suddenly become the tallest man in the room. kyungsoo pays no attention to it, however, but tells him to take a ing chill pill, i’m not gonna skin you alive without reason, jongin. and jongin would nod, smiling nervously, hiding behind his would-be boyfriend’s skinnier frame.

sehun would just roll his eyes, cut him some slack, would you? and would pull jongin towards him by the elbow, eyeing his hyung to be nice, seriously.

‘what ever are you talking about?’ kyungsoo mocks, throwing sehun a tight-lipped smile over instant ramen. ‘i’m always nice.’

‘yeah, when you’re asleep,’ sehun snorts, and this earns him a punch in the arm, and this somehow leads to a wrestling match on their cold, apartment floor, and only stops when sehun taps out to kyungsoo’s armlock. ‘i’ve been beaten by a christmas elf!’

‘i’m the christmas elf, fart face,’ kyungsoo heaves, collapsing on sehun’s shoulder tiredly. ‘i came, i saw, i conquered!’

‘what the actual , hyung. seriously, though. jongin,’ sehun looks right into his eyes, holding his gaze to make him understand that jongin is the one, that ‘he is special to me.’

kyungsoo stays silent.

 

‘give him a ing chance, hyung, you’re being such a pain in the !’

in the history of sehun and kyungsoo’s friendship, they’ve only really fought twice, slamming doors and throwing things over unpermitted escapades and drunkenness. both times, kyungsoo feared for sehun’s life; both times he prayed and hoped sehun would come back home despite the constant bickering and authoritative guidance.

so when sehun slams the door on his face, stomping out of the apartment in angry tears, kyungsoo’s chest heaved with fright not knowing sehun’s whereabouts for the next few hours.

kyungsoo was witness to jongin’s attempts to woo sehun with the cheesiest (and cringe-worthy) pick-up lines and bubble tea dates, his random visits and hesitant smiles addressed to kyungsoo with homemade jars of kimchi and japchae, still apologetic about messing up his worksheet weeks ago. he was starting to warm up to jongin, really, after a couple of months of prodding and courting, nodding towards his direction in the middle of lecture or when they bump into each other along crowded hallways; when jongin discreetly holds sehun’s hand while walking, or when he leans in to briefly kiss sehun’s cheek with adoration (because sehun’s timid smile and whispered yes to the million-dollar question had, in all honesty, changed everything).

kyungsoo wanted to tell sehun that yes, he seems like a great guy, and yes, he’s a talented dancer, but perhaps his way of delivering the said thought came across as a mockery to sehun, even if what he really, truly wanted to say was that you look at him differently, like being in love is second nature to you. 

it had all been a misunderstanding, but the kind that came with kyungsoo’s affection and attachment to the younger man.

please come back home, kyungsoo texts sehun later that night, eyes damp with unshed tears, i’m sorry.

and sehun does, he always does, because kyungsoo is his home, the one person he can turn to when things get a little out-of-hand. kyungsoo is more than just his best friend—kyungsoo is his family, his confidant, his other half.

when he tiptoes to the living room where kyungsoo has fallen asleep curled into a shivering ball with his phone close to his face, sehun is awashed with regret. ‘idiot,’ he whispers, pulling the glasses away from his kyungsoo’s face before they're crushed underneath the weight of his cheeks. ‘who the hell sleeps with windows open?’

he doesn’t attempt to wake him, though, movement quiet and careful as he closes the windows with a soft thud. he covers kyungsoo with a blanket, kissing his hyung's forehead softly before retiring for the night.

in the morning, he makes kyungsoo breakfast and brews him coffee with a note that says, i made you pancakes, hyung. eat well!! i’ll see you later! ^^

and all is right in the world again.
 

it’s 3 am, and sehun ought to be asleep.

but it’s 3 ing am, and kyungsoo is still up like he’s running on coffee and 14 bottles of red bull, and skrillex is bleeding through his speakers in a ruckus of heavy beats and destructive melodies that sehun is forced to stay up and listen to his best friend scold him for letting jongin leave him in a state of misery.

sehun is, not at all, a fan of dubstep, thinks that it obstructs a perfectly conducive atmosphere for learning and what the actual is this , hyung? but there is something frightening about the way kyungsoo’s eyes widen at the comment that makes sehun cower and his skin crawl as his hyung says gravely, ‘my bass makes you feel better than your boyfriend does.’

at the mention of the word, sehun instinctively chews on his lip, eyes falling on the christmas socks kyungsoo opted to wear in the middle of spring. ‘i’m sure he didn’t mean any harm, hyung, it was just a misunderstanding—’

‘misunderstanding?’ kyungsoo had stood before sehun, then, genuine concern laced in every syllable as he sits on the sofa, and as if on instinct, sehun nestles his head on his lap like a lost and sad child would. ‘this isn’t the first time you’ve cried over that person, and it’s only been five, six months? heck, this isn’t even the first time you’ve cried over anyone!’

sehun sniffles. ‘but, hyung, it’s different this time, i swear. everything feels right with jongin, he—i—i’m happy. i’ve never been happier, i swear, i’m just—he’s just—’

kyungsoo sighs, a deep exhale that might’ve lasted longer and deeper than he’d intended it to be. ‘sehun, you mean the world to me, and i love you. you know that. and you also know very well that i wouldn’t hesitate to chop his nuts off if he ever tries to break your heart, right? pretty ing sure they’ll sell well on e-bay. you know. fangirls going gaga over kim jongin's prunes. dollar a piece.'

‘hyung, ew!’ sehun laughs despite his tears, tracing patterns on kyungsoo's knee, but the gravity in his hyung’s words digging deeper into his thoughts. ‘but ‘i'll be alright, hyung. thank you.'

and somehow, with the way sehun side-glances at him and a tiny smile curled on his lips, kyungsoo believes him.


 

'oh, jongin? he's someone worth knowing. it's not just because he's got talent,
but because he has a big, big heart. bigger than his . i'm kidding. or not.' — lee taemin 

kyungsoo wouldn't be lying if he said he’d lost track of time during the last few months of his senior year. it almost came as a surprise to him, graduation, when he’d been prompted by the university website that only students with remaining units left to accomplish can access the online enrollment system.

he’d put his glasses down, and breathed like he hasn’t in a millenium, thesis bound and heavy on his desk. he’d cried, then, holding on to sehun because it’s finally ing over, and sehun had held him against his chest so dearly and securely, you did so well, hyung, congratulations!

it was the happiest kyungsoo had been in a while.

 

tonight, the stars are out bright and unblinking from where kyungsoo admires them in the balcony of his shared apartment with sehun. pots and pans clink as his best friend prepares for his graduation dinner, reprimanding baekhyun for the haphazard ways the vegetables have been cut. chanyeol laughs obnoxiously at baekhyun’s red-tipped ears and bashful grin, sliding across the linoleum in his socks like an impatient child waiting for his meal to be served.

kyungsoo had been too lost in his thoughts that a slight bump on his elbow wakes him from his reverie. jongin gives him a small smile, and leans against the railing with his back arched comfortably over his crossed arms. kyungsoo stays silent for a beat, and then—

‘sehun,’ jongin starts, gaze skyward and certain that the intensity of his voice keeps kyungsoo from making a sound. ‘sehun deserves much more than a friendly or anything just as shallow, for that matter. he isn’t someone you just jump into a relationship with, and leave for someone else eventually.’ the wind grazes on their skin in icy whispers, white noise tickling their ears. ‘i care about him, hyung, so much that i’d give up dancing if it means i get to to keep him. i just wanted you to know that.’

there are cars honking, people chattering in clipped voices on the streets below, conversations kept almost discreetly by the hovering light of the moon. people have come and gone in sehun’s life, and kyungsoo had been the only one who stayed—the only one who held sehun’s hand through his childhood, his losses, his failures, and his heartbreaks. he had almost been so sure he’d be the only one to walk him through his life, until chanyeol and baekhyun came along, and then there’s jongin. jongin and his bedroom eyes, his twisted sense of humor and his undying loyalty for sehun despite his best friend's shortcomings. it is in his voice, unwavering and certain, that kyungsoo finds assurance.

and it is in jongin’s words that he finds trust and confidence that when he steps out into the real world, there will be someone to take care of sehun in his absence with the kind of love he knows will hold his best friend true.

 

kyungsoo thinks jongin is weirdly mature for his age, an exceptional dancer with a knack for rendering some speechless with his underlying wisdom and bluntness. but this time, as he watches from across the table at sehun’s rosy cheeks and million-dollar smile—the kind that blinds one from deceptive reality—kyungsoo has never been more sure that there can be no other person who deserves sehun.

this is home, he thinks, and home is where his heart will always be.


 

(sehun, he hears kyungsoo breathe through the phone, feels his smile right through the static like he’s right next to him. sehun, i met someone.)