#262: it won't be a flirt, it can't be just a spring

[lordchen]

Prompt: #262
Title: it won't be a flirt, it can't be just a spring
Pairing: Chen/Sehun
Rating: NC17
Warnings: language, sex, orgasm denial
Word count: 25000~
Summary: Sehun's one-night stand has lasted months and it's time for him to update his friends on his new status of taken man. Too bad they won't believe that perfect, unattainable Chemistry teacher assistant Kim Jongdae would go out with sulky, boring medical student Oh Sehun.

avventura s.f. 1. adventure. 2. (love) affair, flirt.


{it won't be a flirt. it can't be just a spring.
this love is not a star which disappears at dawn.}

It all begins on a Tuesday. It’s spring, that delightful time of the year when the world seems radiant and eager to fall in love, sakura petals flying over the heads of unsuspecting passer-byes to remind them that it’s time to find themselves a mate and little lovebirds chirping and floating happily in a bubble of satisfying, tender love. Plus, it’s a Tuesday. The thing about Tuesdays, Sehun thinks, is their apparent lack of sense. Ok, maybe Mondays are more tiring. In addition, Monday is the first day of the week after a regular glorious weekend, so people feel somewhat justified for their cadaveric, bleak faces and lack of will of living. Wednesdays are days of hope, when you can start to see the end of the living nightmare made of college classes and dance crew duties. The weekend is still far, a golden mirage at the end of the tunnel, but they’re getting there. Thursday and Friday mostly pass in a blur, with Sehun moping through hours of boredom with his mind already on the dance floor, even if lately he’s more likely to spend all of his free time curled in bed with his boyfriend and not in a claustrophobic, hazy room looking for a potential love interest or a more prosaic one-night stand.

But today is not a Monday, or a Wednesday, nor a Thursday, and it’s sure as hell not Friday. Today is a Tuesday, which for Sehun translates into I can’t even see the end of the week therefore I don’t have the justification for being a living, human shit towards other people because I’m still hangover from Zitao’s girlfriend’s sorority party. Sehun doesn’t stop being an awful human being during the other days of the week, but on Tuesdays he’s so withdrawn and grumpy that his friends, who are supposed to know better, usually leave him in peace to drown in self-deprecation for the unwise decision to even get out from his comfy bed on Tuesday mornings.

Usually, being the key word. But it’s spring, and the love in the air has been properly inhaled by everyone causing some kind of mass-hallucination delirium, and this is probably the reason why Chanyeol suddenly looks up from Baekhyun’s English Literature book and, sending Sehun a dubious glance, startles everyone with his booming question. “How come you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Sehun grunts, a low, annoyed sound that for him means definitely “Shut the fuck up, I was trying to sleep because, unlike you, I’m just a student and I actually have to sweat a lot to have good grades and it’s sucking the energy out of me; also I have dance practice tonight so I need proper rest. And it’s Tuesday so just shut the fuck up.” The real sense eventually gets lost on Chanyeol, who only receives something like “Why the sudden question?” seeing the way he decides to answer, “I don’t know, you’re always so cranky and unlovable. It’s spring, everyone is getting laid. Baekhyun is getting laid!”

Baekhyun flashes him his middle finger and turns back to sexting his secret-not-so-secret-crush. Three seats on the left, Jongin's face acquires a pleasant hue of vermilion and Baekhyun cackles in delight. Sehun snorts. And they think they’re being subtle. Sehun could explain them subtlety. Sehun could give all these idiots a life lesson on the subject of being stealthy and secretive, seeing that Sehun has been dating for more than six months now and not one of his self-claimed best friends has a fucking clue.

He doesn’t know what kind of evil pixie is whispering the answers right from the inside of his ear, and for what messed up reason he’s parroting the first thing that comes into his mind without thinking of the consequences, but he does it, he answers. And he curses his stupid, uncooperative tongue the moment the first word roll on it and out of his mouth. “I don’t need a girlfriend,” he says.

It’s the beginning of the end.

Baekhyun shrugs, Chanyeol looks at him like he doesn’t believe that someone like Sehun exists and his mere presence at his same table offends him, Jongin is still intent on diverting all the blood to his face.

“Yeah, he doesn’t need a girlfriend,” says a mocking, all-too-familiar voice at Sehun's back, while callous hands cover Sehun’s eyes. Zitao’s accent is as hideous as usual, and if by chance Sehun had been too stupefied to recognize it, the stressed, high-pitched imitation that Baekhyun never forgets to throw back at the Chinese boy would’ve given him away either way.

He scoffs, pretending to bite Zitao’s hands, but with no real fight. He wouldn’t want to put his precious lips on Zitao’s tacky skull ring anyway.

“Look who’s here! Zitao! My bestest friend,” he squeals as he turns back, stressing the falsetto because if Baekhyun can do it, Sehun sees no reason to not mock him himself, “and you didn’t even bother with actually looking at your closet before rolling in and out of it dressed like you’re either colour-blind or… colour-blind.”

“Oh, dear,” Zitao answers lazily, lowering himself until he’s sibilating in Sehun’s ear but keeping his voice loud enough for anyone to hear in a three tables range, “at least I’m not trapped, inside that closet. Chanyeol-hyung, it’s useless to try and set up this thickhead with a beautiful lady,” the words are punctuated with a series of rapid chops to Sehun’s head, not strong enough to hurt him but enough to be really, really annoying, “we must find him a dick. He needs to be disciplined.”

Here is where Sehun, in an hypothetical ideal world, would give the middle finger to his asshole second best friend, throw a miniature tantrum to his first best friend for being an asshole in love with another asshole and leaving him alone to fend off the invasive question of the fourth asshole in the equation, and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately for him, this world is not ideal, nor it is fair. And Sehun’s mouth needs to stop listening to his penis instead of his head.

“I already have a dick. Mine. And he’s busy fucking an ass. No time for girls. No time for other dicks, or other asses.”

The entire table stills. Jongin drops his chopsticks inside the ramen bowl, Zitao splutters with no grace, Chanyeol and Baekhyun exchange a panicked expression, you know, the one that screams you call the mental hospital I’ll hold him down. Sehun can’t even be angry at his own running mouth because these idiots need to know the truth. At least they’ll learn to respect him. Also, Baekhyun and Jongin could really use that lesson on subtlety.

“Ok, you’re lying,” Zitao states, with an incredulity that’s almost insulting.

“I’m not. Just because you have difficulties in getting a proper companion, it doesn’t mean that I also have to be shit at the dating thi-”

Zitao ignores the jab, because it’s not his fault if Sehun doesn’t like his girlfriend and takes joy in insulting her at every possible occasion. “Then who is him?”

“If you think I’m just going to tell you…”

“Who. Is. Him.” Zitao marks every word with a tap on Sehun’s head. His tacky skull ring is pointy.

The “Mind your own business,” dies on his lips as Zitao attacks him from behind, shoving his cold hands down the front of Sehun’s thin shirt and twisting his nipples.

“I’m going to torture you until you tell me, you know I will.”

Sehun shots his best puppy eyes expression at Jongin, who wisely pretends not to see.

Unfortunately for Sehun, Zitao was a well-known martial arts champion or something like that back in his hometown, and he’s with no doubt able to pin Sehun to the cafeteria table and break one or two of his bones with a hand while he does his own makeup with the other, managing to do a great work of both. After all, Baekhyun taught him that. The makeup thing, not the combat thing. Not that Baekhyun doesn’t also do martial arts, since he used to teach hapkido to elementary school kids. It’s just that Zitao already knew how to kill a man with his pinkie finger when he met Baekhyun, otherwise Sehun is sure that the latter would’ve gladly instructed him on the fine art of kicking Sehun’s ass on a daily basis. Maybe he needs to make new friends. He could start to hang out with Jongdae’s creepy lab crew…

“Sehun,” Zitao’s annoying Chinese voice scatters his train of thoughts, “don’t even think for a single moment that spacing out will save you from answering my question.”

Sehun hears clapping. Baekhyun must be proud of his padawan. If he knows him well, and he does, the young teacher assistant is currently wiping his prideful tears for having created a hormonal war machine. Sehun’s backbone starts to crack under the pressure of Zitao’s knee and fingers.

“Ok, ok, I’ll tell you. You bastards, wait until you need my help.”

Baekhyun waves in annoyance. “Well?”

“Who’s your mysterious sweetheart?” Chanyeol pursues, tongue almost lapping out of his mouth in excitement and curiosity, making him look like an overgrown, spastic puppy.

The name tastes so sweet on his palate, but the aftertaste is sickly sweetish. It’s not like he can back up now, even if he would’ve really preferred to keep this a secret from his favourite dumb buddies as long as he could.

“Jongdae,” he spits out in the end. Zitao and Jongin merely frown. “Yes, you don’t know him, so trying to destroy my back was useless and totally uncalled for, Huang Taozi.”

Of course, they don’t know him. They didn't recognise the name. Ok, there’s still hope. He can always call Jongdae and advise him not to let himself be lured in by those psychos Sehun has as friends. If he keeps them apart, the chance they have to ruin this relationship can still be contained into an acceptable level.

“Jongdae? You mean Kim Jongdae-ssi from the science department?”

There is it, the voice of doom. Baekhyun is musing on his own as he munches on the pen, before he turns towards Chanyeol to whisper something on his ear. Of course, he could’ve said it normally for everyone to hear, but Jongin frowns in annoyance. Baekhyun has reached his goal. When he finishes with whatever he said, Chanyeol looks enlightened.

“Yes, he belongs to the science department,” Sehun answers, with a blank face. Please, don’t let them know Jongdae, please please PLEASE.

Chanyeol starts to laughand Baekhyun follows suit. It’s not a discrete giggle, more like a full, body-shaking, thunderous series of choked hiccups that leaves both of them breathless and panting. “Oh, god, my stomach hurts. Don’t worry, Oh Sehun, we got it. No more questions about your private life.” Baekhyun quickly dries a runaway tear with his slender finger and pours himself a glass of water, offering then another to Chanyeol.

Zitao sits with them at the table, exchanging a lost look with an even more confused Kim Jongin.

“Someone cares to explain me who is this infamous Kim Jongdae that made you laugh so loud that the nurse came to see if her presence was needed? Chanyeol sounded like he was a dying otter.” They all turn to look at the main building where, indeed, the nurse is looking at them with unsure eyes. Chanyeol gulps his water and straightens his back until he looks like a pompous rooster. He sends the nurse a longing, pained look that makes both Zitao and Sehun scrunch their noses, before turning towards the latter with a merry, somewhat amused smile. “Kim Jongdae is a legend. He was in the same high school as me and Baekhyun,” Sehun groans in distaste at the mere idea of Jongdae being in close contact with those two idiots for such a long time, “and I think he and Baekhyun shared a class, right?”

Baekhyun nods back, licking his lips before answering, “Not exactly. He was in that Theatre group project. But I didn’t talk to him for longer than three days, remember? I dropped out because you infected me with chickenpox. What kind of idiot gets chickenpox at sixteen years old, anyway?”

“What kind of idiot makes out with a boy who’s sick with chickenpox?” Chanyeol retaliates with a pout, and Sehun feels a feeling akin to vomit stuck in his gut at the disgusting scene in front of his eyes. The feeling is mutual, at least. Zitao starts yelling, “Do you realize that hearing the both of you talking about your past high school romance is worse than seeing my own parents making out?”

“Do you often look at your parents making out, Taozi? Do we have to worry about a possible Oedipus complex?” shoots back Sehun, hoping to distract everyone by the Kim Jongdae topic. Zitao makes a silly face back at him. Jongin is still frozen in a textbook hatred glare against Chanyeol for the ‘fooling around with Baekhyun during high school’ thing.

“Now I really feel like I’m the mother and you’re my kids,” Baekhyun sighs. Then he steals a knowing look at Jongin, “Not all of you, though.”

Sehun rolls his eyes. Subtlety, where art thou, again?

“You’re forgetting the point!” Zitao squeals, again, killing Sehun’s ears. The nurse seems more worried every time the Chinese boy opens his mouth. Sehun is waiting for the glorious moment she’ll come with a scowl to drag him into the infirmary to let him rest because he seems like a total psycho in the middle of a hysteric fit. “Who’s this Kim Jongdae? And mostly, is Sehun really banging him?”

“Yes!” Sehun says.

“No!” both Chanyeol and Baekhyun answers.

Zitao and Jongin look back and forth between the two sides on the table, hoping to find some sense in the loud exchange.

“There can be nothing between our little, cute Sehun-ah and Kim Jongdae. When I say Kim Jongdae, I mean Kim Jongdae. As in Kim Jongdae the teacher assistant from the Chemistry class you rascals all take on Friday.”

Sehun can see the light dawning over Jongin and Zitao’s eyes, before the latter breaks in a loud sneer, similar to the giggling fit both Baekhyun and Chanyeol had a few minutes ago. Sehun looks pleadingly at the nurse, but she replies with a shake of her shoulder and an miffled scowl, before returning to the main building with the pissed off aura of someone who only wanted to eat her lunch in peace without any kind of disturbance from a young professor, a loud TA and three unruly students.

“You, going out with Kim Jongdae-ssi? Come on, Sehun-ah, did you see his ass?” Zitao, the fucker, makes a show of wiping an invisible tear out of his kohl-highlighted eyes. “And did you look at yourself in the mirror this morning? There’s no way you’d bang something like that.”

Sehun would like to answer that yes, he looked at himself, and yes, he’s seen Jongdae’s ass. Many times, from above, from below, from the side and from every possible angulation. He’s spent hours looking at Jongdae’s ass, and it was all well spent time.

“Maybe he fell from the bed and cracked his skull open. Maybe we lost him forever. Are you still with us, Sehun?” continues Baekhyun, waving long, perfect fingers in front of Sehun’s face. “Kim Jongdae is another league entirely. Everybody tried to fuck him during high school years. Every-fucking-body.

"A whole lot of other bizarre people. Our school wasn’t exactly normal. Which leads me to the final question of how a little angel named Kim Jongdae managed to enrol in the same school that nurtured to a life of depravity people like me, Chanyeol and Do Kyungsoo.” Do Kyungsoo, the name sounds strangely familiar to Sehun…

“Well, it doesn’t really matter, since no matter how they tried, and I can assure you that Kim Jonghyun tried very thoroughly, Kim Jongdae defended his ass fiercely against every possible pursuer.”

“Did he, really? Well, even during classes he does look kind of stuck up. Don’t you know him, ge? I mean, aren’t the both of you working for a professor right now? I always thought that you had a secret TA club where you meet and share your impressions and insult both students and professors.”

Baekhyun pretends to hit Zitao for his cheek, but he still gives him plenty of time to duck and avoid his shiny, French-manicured nail.

“As fun as it seems no, we don’t really have a club like that. We dedicate all our free time to make the world a better place for you lazy students by giving your professors someone else to torture. But we surely don’t have time to date.”

“You don’t?” a suddenly dejected Jongin asks, and Baekhyun looks taken aback just for a moment, but he recovers with a remarkable grace. “Maybe some of us do have time,” and Sehun doesn’t miss his wink towards Jongin, nor he can understand how all the others could have missed it, “but Kim Jongdae-ssi doesn’t. I’m sure of it. He has plenty of papers to grade, from what I know. You guys are monkeys in Chemistry.”

Zitao doesn’t even try to deny the statement. After all, he is a monkey in said subject, unlike Sehun who’s surprisingly going very well. Oh, the perks of being the secret boyfriend of a science nerd. Jongin isn’t that bad either, mostly because he actually tries.

Chanyeol shrugs, “I’m glad you’re not in any of my classes. And I don’t know him well, but I’m starting to feel kind of bad for poor Kim Jongdae who has to deal with lazy kids with too much interest in his ass and not enough in his favourite subject.”

Zitao sneers at Sehun. “Well, even if he did have time to date, I really don’t see why someone as cute as him would want to date this giant cucumber here.”

Sehun opens his mouth, now thoroughly offended and ready to eat Zitao’s head in a single bite.“I’m sorry Sehun, you tried. Maybe next time choose someone you actually have a chance with, will you?”

Baekhyun’s malicious words stab Sehun’s last attempt at defending himself, his sexual prowess and also his face. He considers fighting back against the low consideration that his friends have for him, just for a single moment, but in the end, he decides against it. Honestly, Zitao is cackling out of his breath, and Baekhyun and Chanyeol have already laughed at his expense way too much for a single Tuesday. Whatever logical and reasonable proof he’s going to come up with, those bastards will just think he’s trying to cover his ass for having being caught at lying about his uninteresting sex life. Even more than that, he hasn’t really talked about this with Jongdae. What if the other boy doesn’t like the idea of being exposed, especially if Sehun hasn’t asked him first? They’ve tried to keep their relationship a secret until now, because even if Jongdae isn’t teaching in Sehun’s class he’s still grading the weekly tests and helping during the midterms exams. It just wouldn’t be professional on his part, and Sehun wouldn’t want people to think that his boyfriend helped him to cheat to get better grades. Even if he’s dying to defend himself, he ends up biting his tongue until he tastes blood, fighting against the urge to ruin everything for a simple fit of pride.

“Come on Sehunnie,” Chanyeol pats his back and almost sends his face flying in the sadly empty bowl of rice, “not having a boyfriend is not the end of the world. You’ll find your twin soul, one day. When you’ll enter in the set of mind that you should start to look for it.”

They all giggle minus Jongin, who’s still torn between finding Chanyeol extremely funny and cool and hating on him because of that sacred law that puts boyfriends and ex-boyfriends against each other. Sehun firmly believes that all this animosity is wasted on human trash like Baekhyun, but it’s not like they’d listen to him.

He sighs. “Whatever. I should go.”

The loud, boring tune that signals the end of the lunch break and Baekhyun is the first to dash in the general direction of the Literature classrooms. Not before patting Jongin’s ass and Chanyeol’s shoulder, of course, and winking at Zitao while mouthing something in their messed up fashion bro code.

Sehun just drops his lunch tray and scampers away, dragging a conflicted and pouty Kim Jongin with him and cursing against spring, stupid friends and the general stupidity of Tuesdays.




Sehun doesn’t expect anyone to be at home for him when he comes back from practice after having left a dead tired Jongin in the welcoming hands of his roommate, Lee Taemin. Sehun’s flat is not far from the campus, but unlike the others, he lives all alone.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol have each other, Jongin has Taemin and, more often than he’d like, he also has the incredible and colourful fauna of fuck buddies that his roommate manages to bring home on a weekend basis. Even Zitao lives in the transfer students dorms, with other Chinese boys whose names Sehun has started to associate with a personality trait. Yixing is kind and soft, Yifan lame and tall, Lu Han evil and, apparently, manly.

Sehun lives alone, because his roommate is rich enough to afford two rents and he fancies living with his boyfriend rather than staying with Sehun. Sehun doesn’t get the reason. From what Joonmyeon has told him about his boyfriend, Kyungsoo is the evil incarnated. In the early stages of their relationship, when Joonmyeon still used to live under Sehun’s same roof, it wasn’t unusual for him to walk in on Joonmyeon treating several wounds, bruises or scratches on his body, to the point that Sehun was almost convinced that his roommate was dating a stray cat. He can’t complain, though. Joonmyeon is not exactly keen on letting his parents know that he has no intentions to marry Park Sunyoung because he’s in love with an ill-mannered lawyer apprentice, and after all he’s still letting Sehun enjoy his whole apartment at the cheap price of a single room. He comes back now and then to pick some clothes or receive courtesy visits from his mother, and Sehun only has to avoid wandering in the kitchen naked when Mrs Kim is coming over. The rest of the time, he has all the space he needs. Even more space than he really needs. Sometimes, not always but only sometimes, it gets lonely.

The smell of curry is strong and persistent in the stairs, and his belly growls in hunger, but it’s only when he turns the key and the door opens that he’s physically hit by a wave of delicious smelling food. Jongdae’s cheerful voice welcomes him into his apartment, and he barely manages to kick his shoes off at the entrance of the house when his boyfriend rushes on him. Sehun’s body is hit by an armful of Kim Jongdae, armed with a wood spoon that almost knocks him unconscious when the shorter boy tries to hug him.

Jongdae’s mouth falls soft and insistent against Sehun’s. The slow drag of his tongue coaxes Sehun’s lips open only for him to take and conquer it all. He can taste the curry on Jongdae’s lips, and it makes him even hungrier. He hopes his stomach doesn’t rumble during the kiss, but he also knows that Jongdae would only laugh tenderly and dismiss it with a nod.

It’s impossible to feel awkward with Kim Jongdae. Sehun tries, he forces himself to be stubborn and pouty and uncooperative. Being awkward is what he is, always been and forever will be, and no Kim Jongdae can change the fact that Sehun has always been crap at dealing with people. On the contrary, Sehun should feel even less at ease in the company of his favourite science major, because Jongdae is, in short words, the most amazing person in the world and the mere thought of the frightening, superb amount of perfection he’s able to muster with just a twist of his right eyebrow turns Sehun’s knees to blueberry jelly. And Jongdae must be made of rainbows and magic, because his beautiful smile doesn’t freeze Sehun, doesn’t make him feel inadequate. Jongdae’s smile is home, and the careless way he greets Sehun with the tiniest bit of nuzzling on his neck and a kiss on the corner of his mouth makes sparks blast on the cavities of Sehun’s chest.

“Welcome back,” he whispers, “I made dinner.”

Sehun gulps and manages to answer with a weak “Hi.”

Jongdae is a natural chatter and his loud, fast words wrap himself around Sehun’s thoughtful silences, filling the big apartment to the brim. He asks about Sehun’s day, manipulating the monosyllabic answers he gets from Sehun and turning it into more question. He tells him some interesting anecdotes about the boring American History lecture he had to take three times because the professor hated him, back when Jongdae was a hopeful freshman so similar to Sehun and yet so different. In return, he asks Sehun to give him a quick summary of what they did today during Anatomy. Sehun also tries to mimic some of the new moves of his new project with the dance crew, but Jongdae stops him before he can even start to get serious with a breakdance show on the pristine white floor of Joonmyeon’s living room.

“Just sit there, I have to taste the curry. Almost ready dear, just a few minutes.”

The words fall naturally out of his mouth, like Jongdae didn’t even think about it. Like it’s normal for him to call Sehun “dear”, or maybe even “baby”. Sehun finds himself blushing at the mere thought. If Jongdae says something like that when they’re fucking he’s probably going to make him come like a thirteen years old.

The nice thing about Kim Jongdae, apart from the joy that comes from finding him swinging around Sehun’s flat, barefoot and wearing Joonmyeon’s old, pink, frilly apron over his normal clothes, is that Sehun doesn’t have to make an effort to participate in the conversation. He only has to listen while Jongdae talks, and talks, and talks, stopping only when they’re sitting around the table and munching on spicy curry rice. Even then, Jongdae almost chokes in the stupid attempt to swallow too soon, just so that he can ask Sehun about his friend Zitao, whom Jongdae has learnt to recognize between the countless bleached heads of the Chemistry class that Sehun attends with both him and Jongin. Still, dumb Taozi is no reason enough to almost die from food-induced suffocation.

“Hyung, please eat your meal properly.”

This is probably the longest phrase Sehun has said in the entire evening, and Jongdae rewards him with an affectionate smile, a pat to his head and the countless stars that joy paints in his dark eyes when he’s looking at Sehun.

“Oh, but I haven’t see him today.”

“Lucky you.”

“I just wanted to know what he was wearing. No tacky jewellery? No flashy pink pants?”

Oh god, please. Sehun’s had enough of the pink pants last week. He’s really grateful to Zitao’s friend Yifan for washing it with his lime t-shirt, creating an awful mix out of the colours and making it impossible for Zitao to wear that fashion crime ever again. He shakes his head. “Ring,” he says. “With a skull.” He also makes a disgusted face, to complete the description.

Jongdae laughs loudly, “A ring with a skull? Really, one day you’ll have to introduce me to your strange friends. Sometimes from your answers it seems like you usually hang out with a circus.”

He nods, knowingly. Jongdae’s right. His friends are nothing more than a badly assorted circus. Zitao being the colourful curtain.

He wants to ask Jongdae if he knows Baekhyun, the cute but wicked English Literature TA who masters the leather jacket, boots and eyeliner look during the night, but can only be seen wearing hideous sweater and cute puppy printed bowties on school hours. And Chanyeol, who’s transferred last year from some very famous and renowned university to be the youngest professor in the entire campus and in the entire history of their little university. They’re very famous. There’s no way Jongdae has never heard of them. The problem is if Jongdae would want them to know about his and Sehun’s relationship, close friends or not.

Sehun fights against the words trapped in his throat. One of the inconveniences of being him is that he spent so much time thinking that talking with people was a hassle that, now that he has a person whom with he really wants to talk, finding the right words and the correct way to say them without sounding like a complete idiot is an impossible mission. Jongdae senses that Sehun is going to say something and patiently waits, humming a famous commercial song under his breath. Sehun will be forever grateful at his boyfriend for being able to read the air like this, even if some times the idea is a bit frightening. He’s so used to being a walking mystery that the thought of being kind of an open book for someone else scares him, until he reminds that said someone else is Jongdae.

“I don’t want you to meet my friends,” he says in the end, and Jongdae’s eyes darken in something obscure like disappointment. “They’re all assholes,” he concludes. Jongdae laughs even louder than before, face clear again, and Sehun wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbours were laughing with him on the other side of the wall because his happiness is beautiful and contagious.

“To be honest, Sehun-ah,” Jongdae says, and nothing in the world could hide the mischievous glint in his cat-like eyes, “I don’t want you to meet my friends either. I kinda like that you’re my dirty secret. I want to keep you all for myself.”

Warmth explodes on Sehun’s cheeks and the entire world suddenly turns into a cosy, comforting place. No extenuating friends snooping around his private life, no stern dance coaches, no boring professors, no traitor roommates with their serial killer lovers. Just Sehun and Jongdae and the harsh feeling of too many washings on the sheet of Sehun’s little bed. He wants to keep Jongdae chained there forever and lose himself in his skin that smells like vanilla body soap for children.

Jongdae puts the pottery inside the washing machine while Sehun showers, washing the fatigue and stress of the day out of his body until he is no longer Oh Sehun the med student or Oh Sehun from EXO crew, but just Sehunnie, Jongdae’s Sehunnie, all lean, pale muscles and broad shoulders and dick pressing against the towel and aching to reach Jongdae on the bed.

“Do you want to shower?” he asks as he enters the room, shaking his head and making wet hair drip all over the floor. His eyes blink a few times, trying to get used to the heavy darkness that covers his room like a blanket. He almost trips over a stack of dirty laundry that should’ve been done three days ago, but is still draped over the drafts of his Economy paper due for next Monday.

“No, thank you,” Jongdae’s answer seems to echo in the black around him, that is only now starting to come to life with the bleak, confusing colours of the night. Sehun can begin to distinguish his desk and the outline of the window. There is no streetlamp in front of his room, being a secondary street, and it’s too cloudy for the stars to be visible today, but Sehun doesn’t need help to know where his boyfriend is. Jongdae is comfortably nestled on the cushion, staring at the stormy sky like it holds all the answers. “I already showered before you got home, I hope you don’t mind.”

Sehun doesn’t mind, really. He’s just a little heartbroken because he didn’t have the chance to fuck Jongdae in the shower, or even just to be there to catch him all wet and relaxed. But he knows that having him like this, welcoming and pliant, warm against the cold sheets on an autumn night, is even better. He crawls on the bed, groping blindly until his fingers catch Jongdae’s ankle and the boy releases a little cry of surprise and amusement.

They keep the window open while they fuck, because Jongdae likes the sound of the rain. Thunders don’t make him nervous, but eager. He buzzes with unexpressed energy every time the sky releases a loud rumble and Sehun can feel him tightening with utter desperation against his cock, in a mute plead for Sehun to go harder, faster, deeper, to make pleasure smash all around his body just like the flash of light that hits the ground and makes everything tremble. Sehun shudders, afterwards, when Jongdae’s body is still holding him tight, trapped inside, and the aftershocks of Jongdae’s orgasm are too strong on his length. It’s so good it hurts when he comes.




The rain is still falling in an irregular pattern against the floor when they both start to breathe again, and the gusts of wind against their naked, sweaty bodies are too cold. Sehun closes the window, slipping against the wet tiles and making Jongdae laugh.

“You could’ve left it open,” he muses, “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Sure you don’t,” Sehun replied. Jongdae is so absent-minded sometimes. He could spend an entire day just looking at the same spot, completely unaware if his surroundings, only to find himself bed ridden for a week because of an impromptu cold. How fun would it be to take care of a sick Jongdae? Except that, maybe, Sehun barely manages to take care of himself, and recently he’s been alright mostly because his boyfriend was always there to check on him, to make sure he’s not eating unhealthy takeaway food by preparing him homemade dinner, to stop Sehun from practicing too much by dragging him in bed and keeping him there with devilish hips and soft smiles.

“Hyung,” Sehun asks. Jongdae turns towards him, shoving the tip of his cold nose in Sehun’s chest and making him shiver. “Hyung, what if I wanted to introduce you to my friends, for real? I mean, I know they’re all assholes, but…”

He pauses, because to be honest it isn’t that much of a big deal, but it hurts a little, to know that your friends don’t even believe that you can get a boyfriend on your own. And it hurts even more that they won’t believe him even after he’s gone out of his way to tell them.

It’s not only a problem of pride, because Sehun gave up on his pride right when Huang Zitao burst on his door shouting at three in the morning and Sehun helped him to kill the moth that had managed to sneak inside his shirt, and in the end Zitao declared them best friends. Sehun already had Jongin as a best friend, but Tao looked so friendly and trustworthy with his bright eyes, crooked nose and childish smile that Sehun hadn’t been able to refuse him. A normal person would’ve asked him to leave, because really, “Well, from now on I give you peasant the permission to hang out with me as my best friend. Be happy, little loser, for the almighty Zitao has chosen you.” Sehun had just shrugged, and answered, “My name is Oh Sehun, but you can call me Oh Your Majesty,” Zitao had laughed and they had become friends.

They still are friends, and Sehun has introduced Zitao to Jongin, and then they have met Zitao's future mama Baekhyun, and Chanyeol, and they’re all buddies. They may be lost cases but he cares about his bunch of hooligans, and the fact that they don't know anything about Sehun’s private life while he knows the pin code of Chanyeol’s credit card and the number of times Baekhyun and Jongin already did it in Taemin’s bed, well, is not really fair in his mind. So he wants them to know, but he doesn’t really know how to ask Jongdae, who’s now looking at him with big, frightened eyes.

“It’s not a big deal, really, but for me it is,” he splutters, “and I know you’re not really comfortable around strangers but they’re important to me, and this is not some secret relationship or something like that, right?”

Jongdae is tense in his arms, and he shivers like he’s trying to wrap his mind around the idea but the idea itself seems alien to him. “Well, it isn’t a secret, you can tell them when you want.”

“Yes, but they won’t believe me!” he whines, feeling the ghost of his old fears coming back to haunt him. “I told them today, because Chanyeol was being nosy about finding me a good girlfriend because it’s spring and they’re all high on pollens and shit like that, plus today was Tuesday so unbelievable bad luck on top of everything else, but they wouldn’t believe me and they all laughed at me and…”

“Wait wait wait, Oh Sehun, would you just slow down? I only understood that Chanyeol wants you to find a girlfriend and that something about pollens as drugs. Chanyeol as in Professor Park?”

“Pollens are spring drugs of love,” Sehun mutters, conveniently ignoring the question about Chanyeol, and Jongdae kisses him at the corner of his lips, light and feathery. So sweet.

“Tell me about this girlfriend thing again, Sehun, because I’ll let you know that I’m not even remotely amused at the idea,” he says, climbing over Sehun and letting his legs fall around Sehun’s hips. It’d be the perfect position for Jongdae to ride him, but it’s already late and tomorrow is still a Wednesday.

“Chanyeol… I mean, yes” he explains, at Jongdae’s curved eyebrow, “Professor Park, he wanted me to find a girlfriend, so I told them, Chanyeol and Baekhyun and Jongin and Zitao, that I was already seeing someone.”

Jongdae’s eyes grow as wide as saucers at the mention of Baekhyun’s name. “And what did they say?”

Sehun knows his voice is going to come out horrible, because now that he’s recalling it he’s even more hurt than when it really happened. “They didn’t believe me!” he squeals. “Baekhyun and Chanyeol said that your ass is too perfect for someone like me, and they told me to aim for someone in my same range next time.”

Jongdae looks like he wants to laugh in his face, but he refrains from doing it. Very tactful. Sehun would cry if he did it. “Well, they’re right about the range thing,” he admits, making Sehun’s heart fall like a dead body, “sometimes I look at you and I ask myself what did I ever do to deserve such a perfect boy. I’m not in your range, Sehunnie, you just met me accidentally, a flick of case.”

“Yes, hyung, and I also fell for you accidentally. I just hope you don’t accidentally break my heart.”

Cheesy, he knows he’s being so cheesy, but Jongdae likes cheese. Melted cheese, spicy cheese, cheesecake and the cheese that Sehun showers him with during their nightly makeup sessions. Jongdae beams and hugs him tighter, his arms a tender cage against Sehun’s ribs.

“Sehun-ah,” he cries, using his trademark whiny, childish pout for when he feels bullied, “it’s way too late for this. Ah, my heart can’t stand all this burning love.”

And while Jongdae knows Sehun, it’s so difficult for Sehun to understand Jongdae. Maybe he behaves like a child to make Sehun feel at ease, but it’s in moments like these that Sehun feels the age difference the most. When reading Jongdae’s actions becomes a treasure hunt, but with no map and no ship and no crew to help and, who knows, maybe no treasure at the end. Jongdae skirts over Sehun’s questions with the polish and elegance of a butterfly, and there’s no way to tell whether he does it with the casualness of a child, cruel and merciless in his naivety, or if he’s only trying to avoid a thorny question without hurting Sehun’s feelings.

Sehun doesn’t know, so he leans down to kiss Jongdae, hard enough to taste blood in his mouth and eat the shiver that runs through Jongdae’s body at the sudden urgency. His fingertips leave bruises in their wake; his lips take no prisoners. Jongdae is hard against his thigh, again, and he curses, low in his throat, as he pushes Sehun against the cushions to straddle his hips and buck against him with the impatience of a cornered animal. Sehun falls asleep with his nose buried deep in Jongdae’s brown hair, thinking that the reason he never got an answer was not Jongdae’s reluctance to give him one, but his amazing sex skills that distracted him. His own brain claims bullshit on the thought before shutting out for the rest of the night.




{it won't be a flirt. this love is made just from poetry.}

Friday means Chemistry, which in Sehun’s words translates into two hours spent calculating the distraction coefficient of Kim Jongdae wearing a white coat. That, plus all the taking notes and actually paying attention because Oh Sehun needs to pass this exam with flying grades if he wants to live. Having a science nerd boyfriend is wonderful when you want to cram together, not so much when you end up pinning him to the couch and tainting his body with your teeth, but Sehun is sure that no great amount of fantastic sex would save him from Jongdae’s rage if he happened to fail Chemistry.

Today, though, Friday means only one thing. Two hours spent ignoring Zitao’s irritating, offending jokes and Jongin’s pitiful stares because, as good friends as Sehun and Jongin are, Jongin still refuses to help Sehun. His reason being that you just do not come between a Nazgûl and his prey. By the way yes, Jongin dared to make this exact reference when confronted by Sehun about why he never defended his supposedly best friend from the Chinese medical student’s jabs. A coward, and also a hopeless nerd.

One would think that after three days, three long days of endurance and zen-like patience, the Kim Jongdae-ssi topic would’ve been forgotten and forgiven, right? But no, Chanyeol still thinks that it’s the funniest thing in the world, and what Chanyeol says Baekhyun repeats, since other than sharing a flat they also seem to share a brain. And well, what Baekhyun says is holy law for Zitao, and that translates into a potential migraine for Sehun this Friday morning.

Jongdae is his polar star. He sits at the back of the classroom, taking notes and only sometimes choosing to stroll around to share his knowledge with the less expert students. Sehun tries not to, really, but whenever Zitao opens his loud, cruel mouth to snarl at Sehun’s apparent lameness, his gaze wanders around the class, sliding over the cute girl with pigtails and exaggerated aegyo and her dark, grumpy boyfriend who’s probably taking this class only to stay with her, to land on the teacher assistant. He knows he’s being obvious. Jongdae can feel the intensity of his stare, even if he chose not to act upon it, but something in the awkward tilt of his neck as he writes memos and the flickering direction of his eyes, so close, too close to Sehun’s desk, gives his irritation away. Sehun also knows that he should stop, before someone notices, before, God forbid, Zitao notices, but Jongdae’s figure is alluring and addicting, vaguely hazy against the river of light entering from window and flooding the room and his hair with gold.

“Oh my gosh,” splutters Zitao, “I initially thought you just muttered the first name that came to your obtuse mind to get us off your tail, but you didn’t, right?”

He knees Jongin in the ribs, waking him up from his siesta, a very unhealthy habit that Jongin claims to have inherited from his south-American progenitors, even though everyone knows that Jongin’s blood is 100% Korean and no exotics forefathers were involved in his family free. Nevertheless, the boy uses this excuse to sleep after every main meal to help the digestion, he says, and considering he spends half of his free time eating and the other half recovering from the lavish feast he calls lunch, it’s no surprise that Zitao’s knee finds him undefended and in the middle of a pleasant, light slumber.

“Jongin-ah, open your eyes, you’re missing all the fun.”

The poor boy doesn’t even know where he stands. He just blinks, looking lost and vulnerable, before asking a pleading “Baekhyun?”

Zitao frowns. “What about him? I’m talking about Sehun-ah, you lazy fucker. Just open your eyes and admire him drooling all over Kim Jongdae-ssi. I knew there was a second motive why he was studying so much Chemistry lately.”

Sehun groans. Jongdae chooses that exact moment to lean over them and ask if they needs some help with the experiment, eyes squinting lightly to take in Zitao’s skull printed shirt and skull earrings and… Sehun is the only one who knows why Jongdae’s smile becomes even more open and careless as his eyes zoom on Zitao’s tacky, shiny skull ring. He can almost feel the ghost of Jongdae’s loud, unrestrained mocking laugh. But they’re in a classroom, and even though Jongdae knows Zitao from the words he managed to pull out from Sehun’s mouth with claws and pincers, Jongdae doesn’t really know Zitao.

Sehun can barely imagine how it would be, if these two important pieces of the boring and extremely difficult puzzle that it’s his life would meet. Jongdae would drive Taozi crazy, mocking him all the time and making him cry in childish pain and embarrassment. Jongdae would buy Jongin chicken and pet his head and ask him to take care of Sehunnie. Jongdae would throw an arm over Baekhyun’s shoulder and threaten to reveal his dirty secrets to Baekhyun’s assigned professor, Jung Yunho-ssi. Jongdae would stuff chili flavoured potatoes in Chanyeol’s mouth knowing that he hates it and draw Mexican moustaches on his face during Chanyeol’s ten minutes naps between classes. Jongdae would fit. In the same, radiant way he had waltzed in Sehun’s life, sat on his couch like he always belonged there, like he had spent the previous twenty five years of his life making breakfast for Sehun in just his underwear and the hickeys from the previous night.

The idea is so nice and tempting that Sehun almost misses the TA’s soft question, “Do you need help with that?” and his friends are looking at him like he’s a fool, a love-struck idiot staring vacantly at his unreachable crush and he is, no doubt about it, he’s in love. But this is a classroom and Jongdae’s eyes are flickering in nervousness between Sehun and his friends and Sehun can’t expose him like this.

He shakes his head, politely, as thousand sceneries in which he smiles and gives Jongdae a cocky answer die on his lips. “N-no, thank you, I’m good,” he mutters, curing inwardly at the hinted lisp. Jongdae answers with a hesitant smile and goes to help some other student who’s having problems with her slide.

Zitao starts guffawing before Jongdae’s even turned his back on them. To Sehun’s utter dismay, Jongin is up and awake, hiding a knowing smile behind his hand much like the Chinese boy. This must be what betrayal feels like. Years of beautiful friendship. Wasted time. They took Jongin too.

Oh no no no, Sehun is not introducing Jongdae to any of his friends. Not now, not ever.




It’s Jongdae who breaks the wall of awkward silences they’ve managed to build around the topic, propped by unsure glances and words wrapped around their tongues but never let out.

Sehun is cramming on the floor, surrounded by an army of books and note pads, all filled with his spidery, angry handwriting. His boyfriend should be somewhere in the bathroom, doing some kind of chemistry experiment involving Coca-Cola and candies that he’ll afterwards show to the kids at the science club of a local elementary school nearby.

It’s embarrassing, the amount of time that Jongdae spends at Sehun’s place. When asked, he says it’s because his obnoxious roommate and his obnoxious boyfriend are being obnoxious, and their sex life is vulgar and loud. Joonmyeon wouldn’t agree, but hey, he got exactly what he wanted when he introduced Jongdae to Sehun with the excuse that the boy needed a little tutoring in Chemistry, when he really only wished to spend quality time alone with Kyungsoo. Who happened to be Jongdae’s roommate. Ah, the destiny.

Jongdae wakes him up from his nostalgic reverie on the path of memories with a well-aimed slap on his ass, before he drops on his knees next to Sehun and finally drapes himself over his body. Sehun pretends to gasp and choke from the sudden weight, but they both know that the pressure of Jongdae’s lithe warm body on top of his own is more than welcome.

“You’re so bony,” complains Jongdae, scrunching his nose and massaging a sore spot on his chest, where Sehun’s elbow has stabbed him. He squirms a little, until he deems the new position to be comfortable enough. Sehun makes an effort not to roll his eyes at his boyfriend’s annoying antics. He’s such a sweet, little drama queen, sometimes.

“What were you thinking about?” asks Jongdae when he’s done writhing around his ass. He tilts his head as he speaks, so that he’s resting it on Sehun’s shoulder, his chest snugly moulded on his back.
“You,” he answers simply, pushing back a little to feel Jongdae bounce on his backbone, his knees tightening around Sehun’s hips to maintain his balance. “I was thinking of the circumstances of our first meeting. You know, when I fell in love with you.”

Jongdae’s cheek is burning on his neck, but he must be exhausted, because for once Sehun doesn’t receive the usual playful but somewhat bruising slap on his shoulder, a habit that Jongdae unknowingly shares with Jongin and that Sehun finds rather abusive, nor he hears Jongdae’s standard wail of dismay. Jongdae leans even closer, nuzzling Sehun’s neck, mouthing at the faint shadow of veins running under his skin.

“Ah, Sehunnie, you’re so cute. Why must you make me blush like this?”

Sehun closes his eyes and count to ten, but Jongdae is impossibly hot, all wrapped around him like a clingy koala, blushing and begging for cuddles. He rolls them over, Jongdae letting out a startled gasp that’s almost a moan when he lands hard on his ass on the mess of notes Sehun’s made on the floor, but Sehun’s mouth covers his, hot and insistent.

Jongdae pushes against his chest, hitting him blindly and Sehun immediately stops. His eyes rest on his boyfriend’s face, checking for any signs of discomfort. He sighs in relief when Jongdae laughs in his face. “The fact that you can’t stop kissing me is cute, Sehunnie, but I’m starting to think that you only want me for my body.”

Sehun scoffs and scowls, and Jongdae pets his face and drags him down for another kiss.

“Wait, wait,” he says between ragged pants, when they resurface for air, “there’s something I have to tell you.”

He looks up and blushes some more. “But not like this, I liked it better the way we were before. I mean, I liked the position.”

Sehun raises his eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like my bony ass,” he says, but lies down and gestures for Jongdae to come back on top of him. Jongdae does, with amused little noises of contentment, and Sehun sighs, contented, when Jongdae almost purrs and hugs Sehun like he’d squish a giant teddy bear.

“Better?” he asks.

“Still bony,” is the amused answer.

Sehun makes a show of pretending to go back to his own books, even if he’s burning with curiosity. Jongdae isn’t usually this… fidgety, when they’re together. He’s open and pliant, and he’s never had a problem with setting things straight with Sehun. But if Jongdae can’t even look at him now it must be serious stuff. His heart rate increases, and Jongdae must feel it with the finger that’s stroking Sehun’s neck, light against his pulse.

“It’s about the thing you told me the other day, you know, the one about telling your friends about us.”

Sehun gulps, and once again Jongdae’s hand caresses his neck, in a vain attempt to keep him calm. He still wants to revert their position and look at Jongdae’s eyes, but he doesn’t dare.

“It’s not a big deal, you know? I never asked you to keep things from your friends, and I’ve always been open about our relationship with mine, so I don’t really have any right to say anything, do I?”

Sehun licks his lips before he talks, a little, nervous quirk he got from his mother. “Your only friends are the ones who set us up. They probably knew about us before there even was an us.”

“Don’t be a brat, I also have other friends.”

Sehun raises his eyebrow in a dubious glance, before he remembers that Jongdae can’t see him, from where he’s parked on his back. Well, it’s not like Jongdae doesn’t know anyway, if the violent pinch on his ass is anything to go by.

“I HAVE FRIENDS!” repeats Jongdae, and Sehun sighs and apologizes to avoid any further abuse. Jongdae rewards him by tenderly rubbing the sore spot and kneading his ass. Maybe this is all a subtle plot to remind Sehun that Jongdae sometimes wants to top too. Sehun is not complaining, anyway.

“It’s just…” Jongdae’s voice rises and breaks, like always when he’s annoyed. “Maybe I’m just scared.”

And what does that mean? Sehun squirms under Jongdae, impatient, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I don’t want people to look down on you, because you’re a hard-working student and you deserve your grades, and I don’t want people to think that I’m half-assing my job with professor Shim, and your friends are serious people like, did you know that Park Chanyeol-ssi actually chose our university over a teaching place at Berkley and he flies there every two month to host a conference? And Byun Baekhyun-ssi is so solar and cute and everyone loves him, and I bet he’d never have a secret relationship with one of his students, oh my god you’re almost a minor, and you’re a freshman, and what if a rumour about us spread? And they’re my colleagues and I don’t even know them, I don’t want to lose their trust before I even gained it, and what if they gang up on me and threaten my goldfish if I ever make you suffer? What if…”

Sehun doesn’t wait for this monologue to end. It’s not even a speech, it’s more like a tribute to nonsense and he’s not having any of this for a second longer. He bucks, making Jongdae fall on the floor again. By now he doesn’t even care about the mess they made of his notes, or the fact that a bright pink highlighter is probably trying to sneak inside his ass.

“Hyung,” he says, regretting not having done it before because Jongdae’s eyes are so frantic and his jaw is tight under Sehun’s long fingers. He traces the rim of Jongdae’s lips and taps his chin, tilting Jongdae’s head upwards. “Hyung, is that the problem? Really? Please, tell me you’re not going all chickenshit on me just because you’re scared of what my friends will think.”

“But…” Jongdae bites his lower lip. He. Bites. His. Lip. Sehun doesn’t understand how he’s expected to have a normal, serious conversation about his feelings if the other part keeps lowering his lashes and darting at the corner of his mouth with his tongue and avoiding Sehun’s eyes in a demure, enticing way. If it were for him, he and Jongdae would never leave the bedroom, but even his teenage idiotic brain realizes that the only thing he should do now is set things straight, before his perfect, sweet dream turns into a dreadful nightmare.

He stops Jongdae’s incoming flux of hysteric words with a finger on his lips, slightly damp and barely open. “Hyung. Breathe. Are you seriously freaking out over dumb and dumber? Have you ever talked to Park Chanyeol? He’s, like, an idiot. And Baekhyun is evil, evil I say.”

“Baekhyun-ssi is an angel.”

“Yes, in his dreams. You really never talked with him” he realizes. “How come you never talked with him? I even heard you went to the same school as those two.”

Jongdae blushes horribly, “Uhmm, about that, yes. I did. How did you know?”

“What do you think? They told me. Right before Baekhyun assured me that you were too much for someone like me.” He can’t keep the bitterness out of his tone. “And why are you blushing? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you have a crush on my annoying friends.”

Jongdae panics and splutters. Jongin frowns. Oh. Oh, no. No. Not in this universe, there’s no fucking way…

Jongdae resolutely stares at the terrible modernist painting that Joonmyeon’s mom brought them for her last visit three Saturdays ago. Apart from Joonmyeon, who has sophisticated rich-kid tastes, they all hate it, but Kyungsoo is the one who hates it the most, so in the end the painting ended on Sehun’s living room and he and Jongdae have done their best to ignore its existence. Until now.

“Hyung, please. Please,” Sehun is pleading, and talking this much doesn’t even fit his character, but he’s way past the point of caring by now, “Please tell me you didn’t…”

“They were always together, at the time, and they were part of the cool people. You know, they pranked a lot and they missed classes to hitchhike all the way to the lake and came back tanned and like they just had the best times of their lives. I was the shy kid who sat straight and took notes and never got to live their adventurous life because I thought that my future was more important than having fun.”

Sehun nods. He can see them, Baekhyun and Chanyeol, loudly howling at the popular kids table while little, shy, adorable Kim Jongdae went over his notes from the Advanced Chemistry class in the library.

“When I started working here and I met Baekhyun-ssi again I felt so fucking stupid. Here I was, having wasted the best years of my life while he had all the fun, but in the end, we ended up being in the same position. I really regret missing so many years of my life.”

Sehun doesn’t know any of this. He only knows the Kim Jongdae who stepped in that dark and smoky fried chicken restaurant near the station, the one where the smell of unhealthy junk food is so strong that it always makes Sehun’s eyes water. The one where Jongin used to drag Sehun after school on their first month of university because a friend of a cousin of Jongin’s sister’s best friend’s baby sitter worked there and they didn’t know any other place and they were nervous, awkward freshmen with too many fears and too little experience on being away from home. The taste of that chicken reminded Jongin of his own household, and they spent so many afternoons parked in the stuffed local, their clothes slowly absorbing the smell of fried oil. Then Sehun took his roommate there for their first ‘roommate hanging out’ night, Joonmyeon fell in love with the place and, one rainy day in November, one of Joonmyeon’s friends appeared on the doorway dragging with himself Joonmyeon’s future, reluctant boyfriend. That was the day that Kim Jongdae’s path crossed Sehun’s dull student life, making it explode with a waterfall of brilliant colours.

But Sehun only knows Jongdae’s foxy eyes and carefree laugh as he allowed Sehun to pin him against the wall and kiss him, a boy five years younger than him, barely legal. He doesn’t know a Jongdae that watched the wild life that flowed around him with nothing more than the burning desire to touch it and not enough courage to do it. He really didn’t know.

“When I met you, hyung, I thought you were fearless. The way you didn’t care about people’s startled looks as we came back holding hands. You were giggling and someone whistled and you told them to fuck off, that you were bringing home some ass for once.”

Jongdae moans in shame at the thought. “I was so drunk.”

“I thought you were kidding, but it really was the first time you let someone bring you home, right?”

Jongdae shyly nods, but his hand comes up to hide his face. Sehun considers swatting it. In the end, he simply grabs his wrist and caresses it in slow circles, sensing the slow pulse of blood underneath. There’s a strange pull that always leads him back to Jongdae, like a spell. It makes Sehun’s skin ache at the gap between their bodies, lures him back to touch his boyfriend.

“Sometimes I feel like I were taking advantage on you because you were so young and dangerous. You didn’t know me and I didn’t know you. I liked the thought of doing the stupid thing for once in my existence, like having the time of my life with a tall, dark and handsome stranger many years younger than me before I came back to my staid, pristine routine. Just that time.”

“Just that time,” Sehun repeats after him, on autopilot. Just that time my ass, Sehun thinks with a surge of pride.

“You know the rest of the story,” finishes Jongdae with a sigh. Yes, Sehun does. It’s written all around them, in this flat they’ve come to share in the past few months. Sticking to Jongdae’s side like glue the morning after was the best thing Sehun has done in his entire life, only second to bothering Joonmyeon for weeks, even coming to the extent of ruining his sex life, to obtain Jongdae and Kyungsoo’s home address. He still remembers how invincible and defeated he felt, running under the rain to knock at Jongdae’s doorstep with his heart in his palm, willing to do anything to convince the love of his life that they were made to be together, that there was no need to freak out just because Sehun was in Jongdae’s assigned Chemistry class. They didn’t even make it to the bedroom, that time. Kyungsoo came back and found them sleeping on the floor, tangled in a woollen cover and totally lost in each other. Sehun won’t ever regret that day.

“You have to know,” Jongdae adds after a long pause, “that I don’t usually do this. I’ve never done this in my life. Going out with someone like you.”

“What do you mean, hyung?”

“Oh, you know, someone so young, a boy, and on top of that one of my students… It’s a crazy thing to do, don’t you think so?”

Yes, it’s a crazy thing, and they should’ve stopped the day Sehun strolled into the science department for the first class of his new semester and found himself staring at the panicked eyes of Kim Jongdae. They had only been going out for three weeks. They should’ve stopped when Joonmyeon and Kyungsoo told them to lay down, wait at least until the end of the semester, try not to be so obvious, please, but keeping Sehun’s hands away from Jongdae’s ass revealed itself to be a too difficult feat for the both of them.

And so they are here.

“It’s not that crazy. I love you.”

Jongdae is still covering his eyes, and breathing heavily through his nose. “I would’ve never thought that this, that you, could be real. Or that I would’ve been able to catch you. You were my bet on happiness, Oh Sehun.”

The kiss they share is long, and slow. Sehun can taste the Coca-Cola and the candies in Jongdae’s mouth. The pink highlighter is still trying to conquer his ass and Jongdae’s fingers are tearing his notes apart as he struggles without no avail to find a grasp on the floor as Sehun’s hands draw bruises on his hips. It’s so difficult to resist the impulse to snatch Jongdae away, to hold him so hard that he’ll never go away again. Sehun knows he’ll end up apologizing for the angry red marks of his fingers on Jongdae’s skin, and Jongdae will laugh and kiss his head and assure Sehun that he knows, he knows.




“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Jongdae asks, yawning, a few hours later. An old anime, very famous during Sehun’s childhood, is playing on the laptop and the little cartoon figures cast dancing shadows on the wall behind the bed.

“My Anatomy class was cancelled, so I have a free day.”

Jongdae’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. He has to work all day, but if Sehun is free he can study during the morning and the afternoon, and they can go out for dinner. A date. With the finals coming up, it’s been so long since the last time they spent quality time together. But Sehun has to disappoint him.

“I already promise those dickheads of my friends that I would’ve meet them for a few drinks.”

“Ah,” exhales Jongdae, playing with the hem of the covers.

The episode ends, and the sweet, lulling ending soundtrack spreads in the room. The main character looks at the stars and thinks about his lovely princess. Sehun takes his breath and crosses his fingers. “Do you want to come with me?”

Jongdae gulps, not expecting the sudden question. “You mean me? Meeting your friends?” He fidgets, folding invisible creases from the sheets and avoiding Sehun’s eyes. “It’s so soon, I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Hyung, they’re so stupid. You’ll like them, I swear. And they’ll like you. I know they will.”

Jongdae doesn’t look so sure.

“Look, if it’s a big deal for you there’s no problem, you’ll meet them some other time. But I don’t think you’ll feel a stranger in the group. Baekhyun and Chanyeol have hanged with me, Zitao and Jongin since forever and we’ve never felt awkward just because they’re old and boring.”

“Hey, does that mean I’m old?”

Jongdae punches him in the chest, and while Sehun is usually quick to praise his boyfriend’s perfect arms – that friend Jonghyun of him who’s bringing him to the gym deserves Sehun’s sincere gratitude, but wait, didn’t Baekhyun say something about a certain Kim Jonghyun sniffing around Jongdae in high school? Nope, no gratitude – being the receiving part of one of Jongdae’s blows is not that pleasurable.

“No, hyung, you’re perfect,” he exhales, “but I think you just broke me.”

“Oh no, do you want me to kiss it better now? Because I won’t do it. That’s what you get for saying I’m old.”

“Come on, hyung…” he whines. Jongdae outright ignores him.

“Do you want to see another episode?” he asks, gesturing to the laptop, but Sehun shakes his head and wait for his boyfriend to turn it off and put it away.

When Jongdae reaches him under the covers, he wastes no time in cuddling against him, pushing with his back against Jongdae’s chest. If they weren’t so tired, he’d let Jongdae fuck him against the mattress, on his hands and knees, but they’ve had a rough day. Both of them.

“Look at you, Sehun-ah,” coos Jongdae, his voice like velvet in Sehun’s ear, “being a cute little spoon.”

He pushes back, teasing Jongdae’s crotch with his ass. “At least I’m not the one who sleeps with a teddy bear when I’m not around, hyung. Do you miss me so much nowadays?”

Jongdae snuggles closer and pat his tummy, a tender warning. “Don’t tease me kid, I’m too tired to punish you right now.”

“What if I want to punish you, instead?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of my ass, Sehun? Come on, it’s really late…”

Sehun nods and blindly reaches for Jongdae’s hand. Sleep is lurking on him from the corners of the room, but there’s a prickle of worry that he hasn’t quite managed to calm, somewhere in his heart, and it keeps him awake, scrolling away the slumber but not the tiredness.

“Jongdae,” he calls, forgoing the hyung. They never talked about it, but there’s an unspoken rule that when they’re like this, skin against skin in the intimacy of the bed, honorifics don’t really mind. “Jongdae,” he whispers again, squirming to get his boyfriend’s attention. His whisper doesn’t quite reach the corners of the room, swallowed by an immobile darkness.

He taps Jongdae’s arm. It pains him to wake the other boy, who must really feel a walking dead for passing away just like that, in the span of a few minutes, but he needs to know.

“What?” comes the pained mumble.

“Did you really have a crush on Baekhyun and Chanyeol in high school?”

“Well, if you put it like this… Maybe? I’m not really sure.”

Sehun’s heart drops. He’s tenfold times more handsome than both Baekhyun and Chanyeol, but the thought of competing with them for Jongdae’s attention makes him sick.

“They made a pretty couple, back then. And I liked them, sure.” He thinks about it, while Sehun keeps his breath. “If you count having very dirty and detailed sex dreams where they both fucked me on the principal’s study as having a crush well, I was fucked. Literally and meta-”

He chomps around the right world, half-laughing of his own bad pun until Sehun takes pity on him, “Metaphorically.”

“Yes, metaphorically! Wow, aren’t you a clever little one…”

“But you don’t feel anything for them now, right? The past is in the past…”

Sehun usually likes how straightforward and defenceless Jongdae is when he’s sleepy, carelessly revealing little secrets that unwrap like candies in his mouth, but if Jongdae casually let it slip now that he still likes one of those two shits, or even worse, the both of them, he’s going to tableflip the world. He is. He can’t compete with a fucking threesome. He only has one dick.

“Aren’t you the one who’s worrying too much now, Oh Sehun? How many times should I say that I love you for it to enter your thick, empty head?”

His breath stops, air stuck in his lungs.

“Every day, always. Always, hyung.”

Jongdae kisses his neck, his jaw, his nape. Sehun feels him fall asleep with his moist lips still connected to Sehun’s shoulder, his heartbeat steady and calm. He takes Jongdae’s hand, intertwine their fingers and pulls until they’re resting on his chest. Jongdae’s hug is home.




Sehun wakes up to the sweet aroma of coffee spreading around the house. Jongdae is sitting at the table and reading the online version of the morning newspaper on his smartphone, already dressed for work. He has a meeting with Professor Shim about next week’s schedule in forty minutes, and with his tight pants and pristine shirt, all professional and clean, he seems almost surreal in the colourful disorganization that is Sehun’s kitchen, like a character jumped out from a television screen during the broadcasting of a drama. If their life were a drama, Jongdae would be the nice character, the hyung that everyone goes to ask advice for. Sehun wonders if there’d be enough air time to backtrack from the principal couple and tell Jongdae-hyung’s side story too, talk about his student boyfriend. But Jongdae raises his eyes to smile at Sehun and the round glasses slide down his nose giving him a funny expression. Sehun snickers.

“You just woke up and you’re already laughing at me, you brat!”

“I was thinking that you can never look like a drama character, hyung, you have the silliest faces.” Jongdae slowly readjust the glasses on his nose with his middle finger, and Sehun licks his lips because, yes, Jongdae looks exactly like a drama character, but Sehun is going to hell before he admits it.

Sehun drinks coffee for habit, but he doesn’t really like its strong taste on his tongue this early in the morning, so he settles for a heavy diluted Americano. Jongdae shakes his head while making a disgusted face every morning, before giving Sehun a lecture on the subject of espresso and asking the younger if he can really drink that rinsing water that the konbini passes off as instant coffee. Jongdae, however, should not complain. This morning he sips caffelatte, not with sugar but with golden, viscous honey to soften the already too sweet taste, and those tiny little biscuits with chocolate drops and lemon cream as a side dish. The mere thought of that nauseating, unforgiving sweetness makes Sehun gag.

“Why the western breakfast?” he asks, between gulps of iced Americano. His eyes scans the table in a futile search for a bowl of rice, some kimchi. He’s this close to pout like a baby but at least Jongdae made him coffee.

“I don’t know,” comes the answer, almost swallowed by the loud pop of a biscuit falling into the coffee cup and splashing caffelatte everywhere. “Oh, shit!” curses Jongdae, before running to find a paper tissue. “Do you remember that friend of mine who works in a coffee shop? He gave me the biscuits and I wanted to try them yesterday, but I totally forgot.”

“Your own fault, hyung,” shrugs Sehun.

“Oh, yes, totally my fault. Who was the one who wanted to watch that anime before going to bed? You made me forget.”

“Yada yada yada,” comments Sehun. “Well, you should hurry if you don’t want to lose your train, mister hot teacher assistant.”

Jongdae blushes horribly, but looks very pleased at the compliment. His jeans are too tight and Sehun is not thrilled by the possibility that other people may call him hot. He sighs. Why can’t Jongdae dress like a ninety years old grandpa? Like Joonmyeon, for example.

He regrets the last thought when Jongdae comes back in the kitchen with his coat under the arm, wearing a cashmere waistcoat on top of his white shirt that, if Sehun didn’t know better, could pass as something that came directly out of Joonmyeon’s closet. Sehun firmly believes that Joonmyeon came out of the closet because he wanted to escape the horror of the many hideous sweaters he piles inside it.

“Is that a present from Joonmyeon?” he asks, wincing when Jongdae’s slap falls on his nape.

“Joonmyeon-hyung, you brat, didn’t I teach your manners well enough? And no, don’t give me the puppy look.”

“Is that a present from Joonmyeon-ahjussi?” he repeats, smiling like a naughty kid.

“Aish, you brat! Show the poor man a bit of respect,” Jongdae says with a smirk, “it’s not his fault if he dresses like an elder twice his age. And yes, this is from him.”

Sehun eyes the print warily. “I would’ve never said,” he blatantly lies.

Jongdae chops him on the neck again, almost smashing his nose inside the half-empty cup of coffee. “Well, look at the time, I really have to go,” he cries, fretting towards the door.

Sehun whines, “Hey, wait, aren’t you forgetting something?”

He trots until the house door where Jongdae is wearing the coat, fighting against the right sleeve that doesn’t want to welcome his left arm. Sehun stuffs a biscuit in his mouse and exploits Jongdae’s brief choking moment to help him to find the right hole.

“Thank you,” sighs Jongdae, finally managing to swallow the biscuit. He has a crumble of chocolate at the corner of his mouth and Sehun can’t detach his eyes from it.

He licks his lips, making Jongdae stutter and then grin. “Oh, right, I forgot something.”

Their lips meet, and Sehun wants to gag at the sickening sweet taste on the roof of Jongdae’s mouth, caffelatte, honey and a strong hint of chocolate and lemon from the biscuit. He presses forward instead, his tongue invading Jongdae’s mouth slowly but thoroughly. He sucks on Jongdae’s tongue, almost bumps his teeth against Jongdae’s as he dips in deeper, licks the corner of his mouth and erases the sweetness he finds there with delicate strokes of his tongue until the only thing he can taste is Jongdae.

When they part, Jongdae’s eyes are half-closed and hooded and his lashes tickles Sehun’s cheeks. “Sometimes,” he says, and they’re so close that his breath is Sehun’s breath and his words nip at Sehun’s lips, “sometimes I don’t really know what to think of you, Oh Sehun.”

He kisses Sehun again, just a little peck this time. “My young wifey,” he jokes, and this time is Sehun who colours like a poppy, “will you faithfully wait for me at home?”

“You better come back soon and not cheat on me with that sexy Professor Shim of yours,” he shoots back, making Jongdae cackle.

He opens the door, because if it were for them they’d spend the entire morning picking at each other, and Jongdae would be late. “You better go,” he says with a pout, “since you’re supposedly the husband in this dysfunctional family you can’t afford to be late. What if you got fired? Who would sustain me and our child?”

Jongdae is still laughing when he leaves the apartment, but he doesn’t manage to go far because he bumps into someone. Sehun almost falls on the floor in a fit of giggles at the sight, that’s until he recognizes the other person on the hallway.

“Jongin?”

“Kim Jongin?” echoes Jongdae.

“Kim Jongdae-ssi?” asks a more than disappointed Jongin, then he focuses on the door from where Kim Jongdae-ssi has just stumbled and babbles, “Sehunnie?”

A cold, awkward silence falls on the hallway. Sehun doesn’t know where to look, Jongin resolutely stares at the floor and Jongdae fakes a cough before announcing, “Well, it’s very late and I have to go! See each other next Friday, Jongin!”

“Or maybe tonight,” rectifies Sehun.

“Or maybe tonight,” concedes Jongdae, before he literally runs away. Jongin watches him go and trip on his own feet and almost fall at least three times, offering a nice view of his pleasant backside, as he jumps down the stairs, before turning to look at his best friend.

“So, are you paying him or what?”




{no, it won't be a flirt. it's not a fire which could go out with the wind.}

Sehun’s and Jongin’s friendship has lasted through middle school, high school and now university. Jongin has been there before everyone else, before Zitao, Baekhyun and Chanyeol, way before Jongdae, and Sehun feels a little guilty for not telling his friend about it beforehand, but Jongin is extremely cool with the unexpected news.

He shrugs, takes notice of the half-finished bottle of lube laying abandoned on the creamy leather expanse of the couch, whistles and wisely chooses to sit on the floor, cocking his eyebrow while he looks at Sehun. “Well, are you not offering me anything to drink? Where are your manners? Jongdae-hyung didn’t rub himself enough on you.”

Sehun lets out a sour chuckle, “Ah, ah, ah. Nice try, Jongin, but I can assure you that is not the case. He rubbed himself on me thoroughly. Unlike someone else, I’ve actually managed to bang my teacher assistant.”

He flashes a twenty thousand watts smile at his best friend, who takes his time to get the obvious reference to his supposedly secret rendezvous with Baekhyun, pales, frowns and in the end jumps onto him.

Being half-choked by Jongin is a familiar sensation to Sehun, reminds him of the good, old times. Jongin is the quiet, silent type. Back when they had become friends with him, Baekhyun used to ask what a lovely kid like Jongin was doing, hanging with two rascals like Zitao and Sehun. It’s always been Sehun and Jongin, and then Zitao managed to sneak himself into their tight friendship, pretending space and attention and whining. Jongin raises his hands in defeat and surrenders to Zitao’s whims, Sehun throws a tantrum but in the end does the same. Sehun and Jongin have always been two twin stars, and when Zitao invaded their orbit, they both started to swirl around him, fascinated by his wushu skills, embarrassing aegyo and debatable choice of clothes. They love Zitao, but sometimes it’s just nice to be like this, only Jongin and Sehun, and Jongin can finally cave in to his inner desire to put his hands on Sehun’s neck and pretend to attempt at his life. He wouldn’t do it with Zitao present, and Sehun knows it’s because Jongin knows that Sehun is very prickly, even if he tries to hide it after his mask of perpetual indifference, and he’d feel bullied if both Zitao and Jongin were to go against him.

Sometimes he realizes that it’s not fair, that Jongin has to restrain himself just because Zitao loves the spotlight too much, but Jongin doesn’t really mind. He’s confessed Sehun that being his best friend is really tiring, and sometimes he’s glad that Zitao came to share this burden with him. But other times, times like this, when Jongin is pinning him to the wooden floor with all his weight and Sehun can inhale the strong cologne he has bought Jongin for Christmas through the fabric of the shirt, Sehun can finally appreciate how good it is to have his best friend all for himself.

“I missed you, dickhead” he chokes, ignoring Jongin’s hand still latched loosely on his carotid to hug the other boy tight.

“Oh god, Sehun, you’re so gross. I’m ashamed to be your friend.”

He holds tighter, revelling in the disgusted moans Jongin is releasing about them being both guys, Jesus Christ Sehun stop being such a woman, I swear. Jongin grimaces when finally manages to pull out from Sehun’s uncoordinated but stubborn hold, “Can’t you fucking do this with Zitao? He’s the one who’s usually looking for some form of physical comfort, leave me alone!”

“But Zitao is no fun,” pouts Sehun. “Making him angry is beginner level. You’re my secret boss,” he coos, and Jongin half-gags. “You’re disgusting, why are we even friends?”

“No homo man,” says Sehun, leaning down to lay his head on Jongin’s lap. His best friend combs Sehun’s shot hair between his fingers, knowing fully well how much Sehun likes to be pampered despite the brave façade. He sighs, “And Tao is right, you’re gayer than a rainbow.”

Sehun laughs, loud and unrestrained. “Yes, Gossip Girl there has room to talk, when that girlfriend of his is a fucking decoy. I’ll call him Queen T when I see him tonight.” He thinks about it, still holding his stomach between snickers, “Not that you have any right to call me gay either, Mr. Secret Forbidden Affair.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, you don’t. Why would you know that Baekhyun’s dick is tiny and short?”

“Baekhyun’s dick is perfect!” Jongin blushes an ominous shade of red when he realizes he’s fallen in Sehun’s trap.

“Perfect my ass, no wait, perfect your ass.”

Jongin takes a pillow and presses tight against Sehun’s mouth. “I’m only letting you live because you must tell me if Jongdae-ssi is good in bed.”

Sehun clicks his tongue, suddenly irritated. “You pig, I’m not saying anything! Stick to your TA and leave your needy eyes away from my loving boyfriend.” Jongin rolls his eyes. “And by the way yes, he is good. Better than Baekhyun will ever be.”

“Yes, sure, because you’ve ever seen Baekhyun naked.”

Sehun eyes Jongin’s face warily as he weighs the answer in his mind, deciding in the end that if he must go to hell at the hands of his best friend, better do it with a damn good reason.

“Well, I might have seen you two having sex on Taemin’s bed,” he drops the bomb. Jongin splutters, his eyes going as wide as saucers, too petrified to even move and end Sehun’s miserable life for good. “And I must acknowledge,” continues Sehun with the most innocent look he can muster, “that maybe you should’ve accepted Chanyeol’s advances because your boy really lacks in the dick department-”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, because Jongin this time aims right for his ribs. Fake choking is a thing, but tickling is dangerous and Sehun runs away screaming, managing to bump against the coffee table, the door and a fucking expensive looking china vase with fake flowers inside.

“I don’t even need to eliminate you. You’re doing an excellent job by yourself, Sehun-ah.”

“Spare me, Kkamjjong.”

“Well, now that the emotional confession thing that you started because you’re a fucking pussy-”

“Says the guy who lets the most effeminate guy in school put his tiny dick in his asshole,” mutters Sehun, trying to look innocent when Jongin sends him a threatening glare.

“As I was saying, now that the lady chat thing is done, can we really fucking get started with studying?”

Sehun grunts and starts rummaging on the floor between the scattered papers for his lost Anatomy book.




Sehun dunks to avoid yet another shirt falling over his head before landing, like a graceful dove, on the floor, together with the rest of Jongdae’s wardrobe. The culprit of such a fashion crime lays lifeless on the bed in his underwear only, and Sehun has never been more tempted to ditch his friends and spend the entire night convincing him that clothes are overrated anyway.

Jongdae sighs, covering the grimace on his face and rolling on his stomach to bury his face under the pillow. Sehun tears it away from his deathly grasp, before his boyfriend decides to smother it on his face and put an end to his miserable, useless life.

“Are you sure you want to spend your night there, hyung?”

“Yes, I am. Go, Sehunnie, have fun,” comes the answer, buried in cotton sheets.

“Well, that’s a pity, because Jonginnie saw you this morning,” Jongdae groans at the memory, “and he’s probably expecting you to come and explain yourself.”

Another desperate moan.

“Even if you don’t come, he’ll probably tell the others anyway, and Baekhyun and Chanyeol will corner you on Monday morning in the teachers’ lounge. Think about it,” he says, lowering himself on the bed until he’s whispering in Jongdae’s ear, low and smug, “you’ll be all alone against them, no Sehunnie to help you. What will you say then?”

Ok, he’s not lying, just twisting the truth. There’s no way Jongin would tell anything, especially considering that Sehun knows his big bad Baekhyun secret as well. He snorts. More like his little, barely endorsed Baekhyun secret. Which, by the way, is the worst-kept secret in the history of his and Jongin’s friendship, even worse than that time Jongin had an identity crisis and convinced Soojung to have sex with him, only to crawl back to Sehun, sobbing and muttering something about vaginas and trauma. Even if Jongin did tell something, the others would only think that Sehun paid for his support. And even if they, for some random twist of fate, believed him, well, they’d probably be assholes, but only to Sehun. There’s no way people can do anything evil towards Kim Jongdae.

Lucky for him, Jongdae doesn’t realize any of this. He just looks at him with wide, pleading eyes and the most pathetic face of his repertory. “But what if I go and they think I’m dressed like a bum?”

“They won’t, because you’re perfect.”

He’s all over Jongdae before the other boy can think to protest, rolling him over and pinning him to the bed. “You’re perfect, end of the story. And they’ll love you, but not as much as I love you,” he frowns, “because no one can, and if they dare loving you too much I’ll have to end their miserable lives with this hands.”

He inches closer than close to an unsuspecting and still moping Jongdae, before he suddenly pinches him in the hip, tearing an outraged moan away from him. Jongdae only resorts to getting up and picking his own clothes from the expensive mess on the floor because Sehun keeps threatening him with the menace of tickling, otherwise he wouldn’t raise a finger to dress up for what he considers to be his last day on earth.

“Can’t we at least have sex, one last time? Before, you know,” he pleads, mimicking a beheading and fake-choking on air. Sehun, who’s spared more than his weekly quota of words on the challenging task of convincing him to come and meet his friends, only throws a belt at him, whipping him on the butt with the accessory.

“That was totally unnecessary,” wails Jongdae, dragging the words longer than he should and taking his customary spoiled baby talk. Sehun eyes the belt warily, and then lays his gaze on Jongdae’s ass. His boyfriends follows his line of thought and chuckles, in a smug, superior way that has Sehun’s head spinning. He wants to do so many things right now, and none of those involves Zitao’s flat in Hongdae and those nut-jobs of his friends.

“No, Jongdae, don’t do this to me,” he pleads, forgoing honorifics.

Jongdae stretches like a cat, back curving and tensing like a bow, ready to snap, ass in display. “Why not? Me, you, the belt, tonight… Think of the possibilities.”

Sehun turns on the other side and breathing slowly. “You should really get up and dress yourself before it’s too late. If I ditch them they’ll come here, you know? They know my address. You don’t know Taozi, he hates not being the one to let someone down without notice,” he realizes he’s babbling. He hates talking, has always hated it since kindergarten, when he had an ominous, ridiculous lisp and all the other kids always mocked him for it. In hindsight, that was probably the turning point, the emotional trauma at the beginning of his disgust towards normal social interactions. With age, and mostly with the growth spurt that hit him at the end of high school, turning him from little fairy to tall, gangly kid with too long limbs and a pleasant, low voice, the lisp disappeared. But when he’s nervous, like the first time he had to talk with Jongdae, or when he was pleading from behind the door of his and Kyungsoo’s apartment to be let in, it comes back in full force. That’s why he avoids talking as much as he can. Ok, it’s also because he hates everyone except maybe his mom and Jongdae, but still.

Jongdae isn’t too convinced with the threat of Huang Zitao, whom, Sehun has told him, is scared of daisies and has a penchant for sequined jackets and glittery Chap Stick.

“He’d break in with his crazy wushu skills and then he’d find you tied up to the headboard with your dick on display, and I’d have to challenge him to death. I’d lose, hyung, sadly and miserably, because he’s a ninja killer, like those dudes who break walls with their fist in ninja movies.”

“Ninja killer?” Jongdae pales, lost in a strange fantasy in which Huang Zitao, who’s scared of daisies and pet bunnies, roll kicks him to death. “I don’t want to go there, Hunnie. Oh god, what if he challenges me to death?”

The problem, with Jongdae, is that he loves Sehun. For some strange, inexplicable twist of destiny, this perfect boy is in love with Sehun and he thinks that Sehun is cool and that he actually has friends who care about him. He doesn’t know from where this bizarre belief comes from, since Sehun wastes at least eighty percent of his incredibly meagre daily word quota to inform Jongdae that his friends are dicks, arseholes, the scraps of society or garbage material. At this point of their relationship, Jongdae should at least know that Sehun’s friends would take any part except Sehun’s. And yet here he is, panicking because he thinks that they’ll be hostile towards him because he’s fucking their baby maknae.

“Hyung, I’m giving you five minutes to put on some clothes. Any clothes. If you don’t, I’ll drag you with me wrapped into Joonmyeon’s carpet.”

“The one that matches his hideous brown sweater?” is Jongdae’s horrified answer.

“Five minutes.”




Nothing will ever be worth the look on Baekhyun's face when he opens the door of Zitao’s apartment to see Sehun’s haughty face and Jongdae’s terrified one. Ok, maybe Zitao’s and Chanyeol’s faces, when they rush there to see why Baekhyun has dropped his soju on the old Welcome orange-ish carpet, can put on a good fight. Zitao curses and disappears into the kitchen to find a paper towel, because the little pond of soju on his hallway is expanding, ready to conquer Yixing’s and Lu Han’s room. He’s lucky his roommates are all attending Henry’s party, or Lu Han would’ve already thrown a fit. Jongin strolls out of the living room, attracted by the initial noise and the following lack of it.

“Oh, I was wondering what could’ve been able to shut up both Zitao and Baekhyun at the same time. Hi hyung,” he greets, nodding towards Jongdae, “you must be magical.”

“It’s Baekhyun-hyung for you, you brat,” spits Baekhyun, his face utterly betrayed at the familiarity between Jongdae and Jongin. If his soju hadn’t just leaked on the floor, he would’ve probably thrown it in Jongin’s face. Baekhyun already is a bitchy bitch, but jealousy makes it worse.

“Wow, someone is a bit nervous, Baekhyun-hyung,” mocks Sehun, gaining a death stare from Baekhyun. “You probably already know my boyfriend.” He feels Jongdae shake like a leaf under his hands, as he answers in a little voice, “Baekhyun-ssi, Chanyeol-ssi. Long time no see.”

“Wow, Kim Jongdae, long time no see. We last saw each other at high school graduation, right? Time sure flies fast,” barks Chanyeol, and Baekhyun pokes his forehead. “Idiot, we all saw each other this morning, at the lounge. You know, because we all work in the same place. Can you excuse us for a moment, Jongdae-ssi?”

With that, he pulls Sehun inside and shuts the door in Jongdae’s face.

“That was extremely rude, hyung,” starts Sehun, but he’s stopped by three accusing stares.

“Ok, shoot, how much did you pay him?”

They’re probably expecting him to explode in some vehement, melodramatic negation. He just snickers and opens the door. “Excuse them, Jongdae, I told you they’re very lacking in the manners department.”

Jongdae is still standing there, thoroughly traumatized and looking nothing short of a chastised kid. Sehun takes his hand and wraps his other arm around his shoulder, manoeuvring him around his dumb friends and inside the house. He’s the only one who catches the faint whisper of “They hate me, they fucking hate me,” as he leads his boyfriend into the living room where the booze is. He has to go and face his destiny, but he doesn’t really want to leave Jongdae alone in such a hostile environment. He’s saved by Jongin, who’s running away from Baekhyun’s bitterness after the discover that he knew something that Jongdae was coming over but he didn’t bother telling him, despite their twisted, fucked-up – “fucked” being the keyword – relationship.

“I think you should go there and clear some things before Zitao’s brain explodes with too many theories. Also, Baekhyun is making the prissy princess because he wasn’t the first one to know things. Can you believe it?”

He mutters a few thankful words to Jongin. This time, his deplorable habit to flee arguments like the plague this time will be useful, if he’s at least willing to keep Jongdae company. He fills a cup and leaves it in his boyfriend’s shaking hands.

“Here, drink,” he says, “I’ll go fetch the other idiots who’re still standing in the hallways with their jaws wide open.”

He walks in during an animated but hushed debate, focused on how much money Sehun has had to cough up to convince Kim Jongdae to come with him for this farce.

“And when would he find the money? He’s broken, look at the way he dresses!” cries Zitao, and Baekhyun nods, still unconvinced. “I mean, if he had that kind of money and he squandered all of it on a fake boyfriend despite the disastrous state of his wardrobe, and even worse, without getting me a gift, he’d be an idiot!”

“He’s Sehun, I thought it was a given that he’s an idiot,” explodes Chanyeol. “Now what I want to know is how? How? Jongdae’s ass is a tank. Completely locked down. And Sehun is not the smartest kid of our bunch.”

“Did it cross your mind, just for a second, that I could’ve seduced him? You know, with my charms?” he tries to point out, but he’s assaulted by a chorus of objections.

“What charms?” asks Zitao, hands on his hips.

“Please Zitao, you’re wearing more jewellery than my mom during those atrocious family reunion where the only thing that matters is wearing more jewellery than your prudish sister-in-law. Any argument coming out of your mouth is invalid.”

“No, I agree with you, TaoTao,” confirms Baekhyun, scrutinizing Sehun like he's a bizarre bug. “It’s Sehun we’re talking about. I mean, the guy who has a daily word quota, and when he hits it he refuses to talk and expresses himself through grunts. Are you,” he gestures towards Sehun, “really trying to convince me you’d score someone like that” his delicate hands points somewhere towards the living room, where poor Jongdae is drowning his nervousness in alcohol and fencing Jongin’s obvious attempts to extort him the questions to next week’s test, “fancy piece of man over there? I don’t think so, Oh Sehun.”

Ok, maybe Sehun kind of does have a spoken words limit, but, guess what? It doesn’t apply to Jongdae. It has something to do with Jongdae being a nice, caring and wonderful human being, while Baekhyun is the ass who always advices Professor Jung to give a giant shitload of homework before the holidays, only to see hope slowly draining away from the pale faces of students who don’t see a proper Friday night since freshman year. Professor Jung is more than happy to grant his assistant’s wish, proud of the way he raised his young padawan.

The point is that Sehun is not a great talker, has never been and never will be. Be it because of the lisp of his general indifference, annoyance and, in the worst cases, flat out revulsion towards the rest of humankind, he doesn’t know. He just knows that Jongdae makes him want to speak his mind all the time. He wants to tell him how his day went with more than three well-aimed mumbles. He wants to cradle Jongdae in his arms and whisper all his secrets and talk until he has no voice to talk. He wants to express himself and it’s damn annoying when the words don’t come out and the feeling stays trapped in his throat, just shy of his vocal cords, beautiful and perfect but caught in Sehun’s net of awkwardness without any hope of an escape. And yet, all of this is useless, because no matter how much Sehun can stress over his lack of communication abilities, Jongdae will get him anyway. Jongdae can take Sehun’s awkward mutters apart, carefully untangling the hidden thoughts from it. He can get entire questions out from a single uhm. He can read Sehun’s difficulties and be his support, and that’s why he’s here today. Not because he really wants to meet Sehun’s friends, but because they’re important to Sehun. Because Sehun wants them to know. Because Sehun is damn angry that they can’t believe he can have this wonderful boyfriend. Ok, he can’t believe it himself, but they’re not allowed to say it.

“Ok, kiddo, confess,” inquires Chanyeol, “are you blackmailing him?”

“That’s ridiculous, Park Chanyeol. How did you even get the job at university when you’re this dumb?” He raises his hands, shrugging, “Okay, I give up trying to reason with you. It’s clearly a lost cause since you’re all so fucking stupid.”

Before the entire house can explode in a humongous fit of rage and stupid maknae I’ll teach you how to respect your elders, Jongdae’s voice comes from the kitchen in a low, but firm, “Language, Sehun-ah.”

To which Sehun promptly lowers his head and answers a shaky, “Sorry, hyung.”

Zitao trips on his own feet. He turns to Baekhyun, frantic, “He apologized. Oh my god, he apologized. He’s been tamed.” He receives only hollow stares. Chanyeol has the dumb, scrunched up face he only reserves for when he’s facing extremely challenging problems, like how to walk and talk at the same time, or whether you should put mayonnaise or barbecue sauce over the burger. Sometimes Sehun believes that Chanyeol has a dumb twin brother and he sends him around to take care of proper social interactions and hang at Zitao’s place while the real Park Chanyeol spends his time in his office scribbling integrals and studying the equation of world peace. That’s the only possible explanation. This tall dude with a bad dye job can’t be the youngest professor of the country and a luminary of mathematics. Nope.

“Do you think we should question Jongdae-ssi?” Chanyeol asks.

“I don’t know. If he really is blackmailing him, wouldn’t it be normal for him to lie about this whole ordeal?” answers his best buddy. Baekhyun is giving Sehun the fox stare, the one for when he wants Sehun to know that he knows that Sehun is hiding something, and that he’s ready to find out what.

Well, Sehun has nothing to hide. And it’s time to use his trump card. “If you don’t believe me, you can always ask Jongin. He showed up earlier this morning and he caught Jongdae getting out of my apartment just in time for the meeting with professor Choi.”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes, “Jonginnie? What about that little traitor who keeps things from me?”

Sehun doesn’t even know if Baekhyun is making a real effort to hide their relationship at this point. Maybe everyone always knew and he’s the only one who thought it was supposed to be a secret. Judging from Zitao’s and Chanyeol’s lost eyes, no, they don’t know anything. But they will if Baekhyun keeps talking, and then Sehun’s only leverage over the spawn of Satan aka Byun Baekhyun will be gone.




To Jongdae’s credit, he doesn’t waver too much when they ask him if it’s really true that he’s going out with Sehun. He just looks a little lost, but everyone would under the deep scrutiny of Chanyeol’s and Baekhyun’s frown. Zitao is hiding somewhere in the house because when they reached Jongin and Jongdae in the living room they were parched on the couch, and Jongdae was absorbed in the interesting reading of Zitao’s last Chemistry paper due for the next week. “You know you won’t get a good grade with this, right?” was all Zitao needed to hear before he scurried into the kitchen to drown his shame in strawberry milk while trying not to cry. Sehun has been trying to shut up Zitao for years now, and Jongdae managed in three seconds flat. To say that Sehun is proud of him would be an understatement.

Shaking off Baekhyun and Chanyeol could be a little more difficult. They circle around Jongdae like vultures, trying to find a nice way to approach the topic.

“Sorry for earlier, Jongdae-ssi, we were just worried about your safety.”

Jongdae splutters, “My safety?”

Chanyeol puts one of his monster hands on Jongdae’s shoulder in a reassuring motion, and tries to speak in what is supposed to be a whisper, but him being Park Chanyeol, is a very deep shout. “We know he’s blackmailing you, you don’t have to lie. Whatever he threatened to do, we’ll stop him. You’re safe with us, Jongdae-ssi.”

When Sehun intervenes, it’s not to stop the endless stream of bullshit that has just left Chanyeol’s mouth, but to take his big hand and move it away from Jongdae’s person with the least politeness possible. Meaning that he kindly looms over them, silently thanking the gods for the few centimetres he got in the last years that allow him to throw daggers right in Chanyeol’s eyes, and holding the tall teacher’s wrist in a lethal grasp he whispers, “If you put your limbs near my boyfriend again I’ll have to cut them and feed the pieces to your pet ferret.”

Chanyeol pales, not because Sehun is threatening him, that’s common occurrence in their group of friends, but because Sehun’s other arm has just gone to rest on Jongdae’s shoulders, circling his body. Sehun’s hand lies right where Jongdae’s heart is supposed to be. in a show of possessiveness.

Baekhyun whistles. “Wow.” He looks from Sehun to Jongdae, whose cheeks are reaching the boiling point. Then he slowly claps, “You almost fooled me guys, but thank you for the show. As you wish, Sehun, let’s pretend that not only by some random miracle you managed to go out with Jongdae, can I forgo honorifics, Jongdae? After all, we’re chingu, same year, you and I.”

When Jongdae shakily nods, Baekhyun flashes him a blinding smile, “Wonderful, wonderful Jongdae-yah!” He steals a look at Sehun, who’s trying to restrain himself from growling, and his smile takes a devilish hue, “Then, since we’re all pretending, you can come with us and share tips on yours and Sehun’s relationship. Here, come and sit with me on the couch, time for a little teacher assistant chat.”

He pats the spot next to him on the couch, and grins at Jongdae again.

“Can I join the chat too, even if I’m only a teacher?” pleads Chanyeol, and Baekhyun scoots over to make a spot for him on his other side. Before Jongdae can sit, though, Sehun throws himself on the coach, right between him and Baekhyun. He tries to tell himself that he’s not feeling threatened by Jongdae’s crush on Baekhyun and Chanyeol back in middle school, but the truth is that he doesn’t want Baekhyun’s pretty fingers or Chanyeol’s sturdy ones near his boyfriend. Not now, nor ever.

“I think I’ll sit here, Baekhyun, don’t mind me and go on with your interview,” he shoots, and it’s with extreme satisfaction that he watches Baekhyun’s mouth curl in an annoyed pout. That’s what he deserve for being a cunning, manipulative little shit.

Unseen, he caresses Jongdae’s thigh, the other boy going lax at his touch. He feels so delighted, knowing that he’s the only one who managed to make Jongdae feel at ease, unlike those brutes of his companions.

The conversation flows without major efforts on Sehun’s part after that. Zitao manages to come back with other drinks after having drowned his Chemistry paper down the toilet and joins Jongin on the armchair, almost crushing the other boy and earning a killer stare from Baekhyun. Jealousy, again, doesn’t look pretty on Baekhyun’s soft features. The elder’s strange behaviour goes unnoticed by almost everyone in the room except Sehun, as usual, who rolls his eyes at the unsubtlety of Baekhyun’s behaviour and, surprisingly, Jongdae, who turns to look at his peer with a newfound curiosity in his eyes.

Sehun wants once again to kiss his boyfriend for being so smart. All his friends know that Baekhyun loves Zitao like a little brother, he’d never scold him or something, but now he’s sending venom in his direction just because his hand landed right on Jongin’s nipple making him moan, and they didn’t even notice something is off. Whereas Jongdae knows nothing, he’s the newcomer who just arrived after all, but he’s already suspecting something.

Other than noticing obvious things, Sehun doesn’t take part in the conversation, passively letting Baekhyun coax Jongdae into badmouthing the professors with the help of Chanyeol, who seems to have forgotten that he is a professor himself.

“So, Jongdae, when did the two of you meet?” asks Baekhyun, leaning over Sehun to have a better look at Jongdae’s face. Sehun’s attention snaps back to the topic of the talk, like everyone else’s in the room. Jongdae cocks his head, thinking about it.

“My roommate is going out with his roommate. They introduced each other,” he simply answers.

“And when did you start going out together?” continues the other.

Jongdae stutters and inches closer to Sehun, while Baekhyun goes on, firing Jongdae with questions with the violence of a machine-gun. How many dates? Did you have sex? What’s Sehun’s favourite colour? Did you really have sex? And the more it goes on, the more he realizes that this is not how he wanted things to be. This is exactly what puts Jongdae on the edge. Sehun won’t ever stop repeating it in his head, he really hates his friends. He doesn’t even know why he’s friends with obnoxious people like Zitao and Baekhyun, and let’s not start about Chanyeol. But they’re his friends, and they’re the best he has, and he wants Jongdae to feel welcomed. And since they’ve been doing a crappy job, he must take the matter into his own hands.

He loses it at, “When did you fall in love?” Maybe it’s the mocking light in Baekhyun’s eyes, or the strange curve of his mouth as he pronounces the word. Baekhyun doesn’t believe in love. He used to, according to Chanyeol, he used to be madly in love with one of the nice guys, the kind of kids who wouldn’t hurt anyone or anything. The kind of kids who are too kind for their own good, who can’t say no to their high school crush and end up cheating on their boyfriend and breaking his heart. Sehun doesn’t even know his name, but he’ll forever hate Baekhyun’s ex for being a total nice ass and releasing that menace that is a heartless, disenchanted Byun Baekhyun on the rest of the world. Baekhyun doesn’t believe in love, but he believes in friends with benefits and friends without benefits, and that night, after the big cheating incident, he was running in tears towards his best friend’s house to ask for comfort sex, cuddles and Park grandma’s cookies, when Zitao saved his life. Ok, that’s very dramatic, Zitao was drunk and Jongin and Sehun were bringing him back home, and he kind of saw Baekhyun crossing towards the other side of the street, and hung on the collar of his shirt to stop him because a car was coming. In the end, they fell in a heap of limbs on the snow and they went to Chanyeol’s house all together because those two idiots were freezing to death.

That’s how they became friends, with Sehun ringing the doorbell of Chanyeol’s flat, Zitao draped all over Baekhyun as they trembled, Jongin who stole unsure glances to the shorter boy with puffy eyes and a cute, scrunched up nose and Chanyeol, who opened the door and stared unceremoniously at Baekhyun, asking whether he always had to bring home strays.

They are friends since then, and maybe that’s why Sehun wants to show them. Baekhyun who doesn’t believe in love, and Zitao, who changes girlfriend every three days. Jongin, who’s stubbornly set in the hopeless mission of changing Baekhyun’s hearts through quickies on Taemin’s bed. And also Chanyeol, who’s caught in an unrequited love with the school nurse but will never have a chance with her if he keeps hanging out with his friends every time she’s in sight. The nurse probably thinks they’re all crazy, Chanyeol included, but it’s funny to see him drooling after her skirt.

They’re a bunch of hopeless, sad cases and Sehun used to be the worst of the bunch. He was the grim, silent kid who can only be bothered to open his mouth twice a day to complain, whine, blackmail or insult someone. That was until he met Kim Jongdae, who is an angel made of sugar, spice and everything nice, and his life changed for good.

That’s why he wants them to understand. That’s why, this time, is Sehun who answers, circling Jongdae’s shoulder with his arm and dragging him close.

“When did you fall in love?”

“Immediately,” he answers, ignoring Jongdae’s copious blushing. “When I saw him, I just couldn’t leave him alone.”

There’s this moment of unwavering silence when everyone in the room turns to stare at Sehun, looking for, well, he doesn’t know what are they looking for. Some sort of ratification? A flashing light that confirms he’s telling the truth? Even Jongdae stops trying to get his face to explode from how much he’s reddening, to turn at him. And Sehun can’t blame them. He doesn’t even believe he’s said that. He straightens his face, trying to keep all the blood from rushing to his face. Sehun has never been good with words, nor he’s able to control his face, but he doesn’t want to make a double fool of himself being overly cheesy in front of his friends and blushing about it.

“Hyung,” he turns to Baekhyun, knowing that he’s the biggest obstacle he has to overcome, the alpha female of their closely knit group he has to convince. “I really love Jongdae-hyung, and I swear, I don’t know why someone like him should go for someone like me, but he likes me back. I’m trying to become a better person, just for him. I wake up in time, I study hard, I try to talk more and I use protection when we have sex.”

Next to him, Jongdae’s blood has all rushed to his cheeks, his face radiating heat in waves. But, like the others, he waits for Sehun to finish. Sehun briefly wonders how he must look like, talking about his feelings, opening his heart with the usual expressionless face. Baekhyun’s mouth is hanging open, in a comical expression of stupor. His eyes travel back and forth from Jongdae to Sehun, and then to Jongdae again, in a restless motion.

“Jongdae is my boyfriend,” continues Sehun, “he’s shy and sweet, but quite frightened right now. He wants you to accept him because he cares about me and he knows I care about you. I also want him to feel comfortable around you because, mark my words, I’m serious about this. I want him to stay. For…” he can’t help but blush this time, slightly, and when his friends see him the wonder on his face shifts into worry. Chanyeol looks ready to take his temperature in order to check if he has a fever. Sehun straightens his back, and when he speaks his voice is clear again, and Jongdae’s hand is tightly grasped in his own. “I want him to stay forever.”

Baekhyun doesn’t answer. His face is still frozen in a confused expression. Maybe he’s still processing the news, or maybe Sehun has managed to break him. Chanyeol shakes him up a little, but he has no reaction whatsoever.

“I think Sehun has just asked for your blessing, man,” comments Chanyeol, making Baekhyun splutter even more. “Plot twist: I think they’re really together. You’ll have to tell me your secret, Jongdae-yah, I’ve been trying to get the kid to blush for months.”

“As long as he doesn’t mention my Chemistry grades, for me it’s okay,” says someone from the couch. Sehun turns to see Zitao pouring soju in all their glasses. “And also, as a best friend, ok, ok, second best friend,” he whines, after Jongin hits him with a powerful jab, “I want all the juicy sex details. Like, does Sehun have any kink? Does he make strange faces when he comes? You will have to tell me everything ge,” he says, blinding Jongdae with a hopeful smile. Sehun feels his boyfriend nodding slightly, before his attention comes back on Baekhyun, whose lack of breathing ipaiting his face a bright shade of purple. Chanyeol pats his back, reassuringly.

“There’s only one thing I need to know,” manages to say Baekhyun, in the end, turning away from Sehun and Jongdae to look at Jongin. “How long have you known about this relationshit going on?”

In Jongin’s defence, he doesn’t pale that much, and he also manages to keep the fidgeting at the minimum level. “Since this morning. I caught Jongdae going out of Sehun’s apartment and convinced him to spill the beans.” They both ignore Zitao’s outraged hiss at not having been informed of such a juicy gossip. If there’s something Zitao hates, it’s knowing things together with other peasants instead of having been told beforehand.

“I swear, I wanted to tell you, but you didn’t let me the time,” pleads Jongin, and his face flushes a bright red, “you were… quite passionate about what we were doing.”

Chanyeol and Zitao exchange a confused look. Jongdae gets up, points his finger towards Baekhyun, and screams, “Are you fucking a student?”

Baekhyun scoffs. “Like you’re the one to talk, Kim Jongdae. Don’t pretend to be all saint and innocent on me, ok?”

“Are you fucking Jongin?” shouts Chanyeol as the same time Zitao shrieks, “Are you two fucking?”

“Oh, well, it was damn time!” exclaims Sehun, pouring another shot of soju for himself and his boyfriend, gesturing Jongdae to sit down and enjoy the scene. “Good morning, guys, I knew since last month!”

“I have something to confess too, guys, since this is the night of confessions…” Everyone turns towards Chanyeol, who avoids their eyes and bites his lower lip. “See, me and the nurse… We’ve been…”

“I want to marry Song Qian,” declares Zitao boldly, and they all fall quiet.

“Are you kidding?” exhales Sehun, as Baekhyun next to him goes through the stages of an early death. His kid, his precious little acquired brother, committing himself to an endless relationship… Baekhyun’s face is cyanotic.

“Of course I’m kidding! But why is it that everyone has some cool secret to share and I’ve got nothing? Sehun and Jongin, I could’ve expected it from them, since they’re fucking traitors. They don’t deserve the title of best friends of the mighty Zitao, okay? I only stay with them for pity.” Sehun meets Jongin’s exasperated expression across the room, and they both roll their eyes, as Zitao goes on with his tirade. “But you, ge?” he whines to Baekhyun, “I thought there was a spark between us.”

There are tears in his eyes. Sehun is going to puke, while Jongdae is ready to open popcorn and enjoy the show. “Are they always like this?” he asks, hiding a laugh behind his hand. Sehun sighs, “Today they’ve been the most normal I’ve seen in weeks. They’re just trying to impress you. Give them three weeks, though…”

Jongdae smiles, radiant at the mere idea of them being so comfortable with his presence to show him their worst part. “I can’t imagine how that would be like, they’re already so loud.”

He ducks to avoid a flying chip thrown by Zitao, still in the middle of a fit because Baekhyun is having secret meetings with Jongin, of all people, and not with him. In a corner of the room, Jongin has won his natural diffidence when it comes to Chanyeol, and is hastily taking notes as the older boy reveals him all Baekhyun’s erogenous zones. “Trust me kid, he won’t be able to get out of your bed for weeks!”

“This is nice.” Sehun turns towards Jongdae, and his eyes are glazed, lost in the past. “I wish I met them earlier, became their friend. Can you imagine it? Maybe, instead of Joonmyeon, it would’ve been them to introduce you to me.”

Or maybe they wouldn’t have met at all. Maybe in another universe, another Jongdae is making out with another Chanyeol and another Sehun is all alone in his room. Sehun doesn’t believe in destiny, but only in reality. Jongdae is real, now, in front of him, and that’s the only thing he can think of as he leans down to steal a kiss. It’s a simple kiss, no more than a peck, but he rests his forehead against Jongdae’s afterwards, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Sehunnie, your friends are here,” he says, with a hint of panic in his voice. “I don’t think this is…” He tries to move away, but Sehun pins him there and drags his nose closer, until it’s sliding against Jongdae's. “Well, the deed is done. Now that they like you, we can be properly engaged and do fiancée things like this.”

“Sehunnie…”

He ignores Jongdae’s embarrassed moan and Zitao’s anguished cry of disgust. Baekhyun’s shoes hits the back of his head, a killer shot.

“Would you please stop doing that? It’s disgusting!” cries Chanyeol. “I changed my mind, I’ll never approve of this relationship! I would’ve never pegged you for the greasy type, Sehun.”

The younger student shrugs, and plants a chaste kiss on Jongdae’s cheeks, making him squirm in embarrassment and blush some more, and eliciting other outraged shrieks from his friends.

“This is funnier than I thought, hyung, why didn’t we do it before?” Jongdae glares back at him, but Sehun doesn’t even care if he’s giggling like a high school girl, at this point, of if Jongin is taking compromising photos with his smartphone. He licks his lips and kisses his boyfriend again.




{but my love will live as the world does, as long as my eyes will be able to look into your eyes.}

Watching Baekhyun’s and Jongdae’s first approach is interesting, in its own way. Jongdae is still wary of Baekhyun’s sudden mood swings, while Baekhyun is careful around Jongdae, like he’s afraid to catch love like a disease or something like that. Chanyeol brings them together with a powerful pat on their shoulders and a big, goofy smile. In no time, the awkward atmosphere melts in playful banter, until they start reminiscing something about high school and a little, nasty kid named…

“Do Kyungsoo?” exclaims Sehun, finally recognising the name, “but I know him! He’s the one who introduced Jongdae to me!”

“Ah, right, you used to be friends,” says Baekhyun to a smiling Jongdae, “you were one of the few people in school he didn’t try to set on fire.”

“Oh, come on, Kyungsoo is a nice kid,” pouts Jongdae.

Sehun murmurs a faint, “Yes, like a rabid stray cat,” but Jongdae hears anyway and pulls his ear until he apologises. Zitao watches with amused eyes. “How much to teach me how to do that, Jongdae?”

“It’s hyung for you, Zitao,” shout both Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and Jongdae laughs at his dejected face.

“So, what is my dear friend Do Kyungsoo doing these days?” muses Baekhyun.

“Friend?” asks Jongin, “Didn’t you tell me he tried to poison you during Chemistry that one time?”

“Ah, that… He wasn’t really trying to kill you, Kyungsoo was a walking disaster in Chemistry,” recalls Jongdae. “The reason we became friend was because I was his Chemistry tutor, back then.”

“Ah, that’s true, Jongdae,” jumps in Chanyeol, “you were a Science nerd or something, right?”

“I was so envious, you know? My mom would’ve paid to have a son like you. Or for me to have a friend like you. But I was stuck with Park Chanyeol, instead.”

“Hey,” whines Chanyeol, “I’ll have you know I’m the real genius here, not him.”

But Baekhyun is already batting his eyelashes at Jongdae in a saccharine way and Sehun feels a flare of annoyance in his chest. He’s in the middle of an inner debate about whether punching Baekhyun for sweet-talking his boyfriend or not, when Jongin snorts and drapes himself on Baekhyun’s back, burying his nose on Baekhyun’s nape. The teacher assistant squeals like a girl, turning his head to scowl at Jongin.

“What, hyung?” Jongin bats his eyelashes, “They already know. And that means I don’t have to pretend that I’m not jealous whenever you do something stupid, at least in front of them.” Baekhyun bites his lips, not knowing how to answer that, and Jongin rewards him with that absurd smile of his, when his eyes almost disappear in happy crescent moons and he looks like a satisfied kitty. Not even Baekhyun can resist the cuteness, and he lets Jongin’s arms latch onto him, even forgiving another kiss on the back of his neck, just because it’s Jongin doing it.

Zitao pretends puke at the sight. “That’s disgusting, not only Sehun is engaged, but my other best friend is fucking my ge and they’re being cheesy and disgusting in front of my eyes,” he whines. Chanyeol opens his arms and his heart, winking at Zitao. “You can make out with me if you want, so we won’t be the only left out in the room. Don’t worry, Sandara-noona won’t mind to share me for tonight.”

Zitao shrieks and jump into Baekhyun’s arms to protect himself, earning a death glare from a disgruntled Jongin. While the two boys fight to earn the right to sit on Baekhyun’s knees, Chanyeol asks Jongdae what is Kyungsoo up to. Turns out that Kyungsoo only hated Baekhyun, and Chanyeol by proxy, since he was Baekhyun’s boyfriend slash best friend slash possible soulmate, but he didn’t really have anything against Chanyeol as a person, so they talked, sometimes.

“I can’t believe Do Kyungsoo is fucking your rich ass roommate. Everything is connected!” shouts Chanyeol, jumping on the chair. “We should make a big party and get acquainted once again.”

Jongdae doesn’t even look down before slapping Sehun’s wandering hand away it spent the last ten minutes trying to itch slowly towards the hem of his pants. “I don’t think he’d like the idea. But that’s because Kyungsoo doesn’t like anything.”

“Not even Joonmyeon,” adds Sehun with a scowl, “but at least Joonmyeon likes him, and that’s the reason why he’s sleeping at your flat and you’re living at his place with me.”

“Does that mean we can have a party at your house?” begs Zitao, his eyes going wide as saucers and all shiny and wet with adoration tears. It doesn’t last long. At Sehun’s brief refusal, Zitao comes back to his usual pouty self. Jongdae coos at him, promising to bake cookies when they come to visit, and that’s enough bribery to win Zitao’s affection together. If he had a tail, he’d shake it furiously under Jongdae’s amused eyes, and Sehun is not jealous only because he’s too busy enjoying the fact that Jongdae is winning them all, with the same, disarming candor he used to conquer Sehun’s heart.

Before they leave, Jongdae manages to exchange numbers with Baekhyun and Chanyeol, let Zitao cry on his shoulder and give three fried chicken coupons to Jongin. They love him.

Baekhyun blocks Sehun in the restroom, hitting the back of his legs with his knees and almost making him fall over. “I like him,” he says, “he makes you smile.”

“You make me smile too sometimes, hyung.”

“I know, but he’s better than me. It’s a nice change, seeing a true smile on your face. You shouldn’t have introduced him to us, though, because he’s adorable. Chanyeol finds him adorable too. We might steal him from you,” jokes Baekhyun, and Sehun pushes the jealousy down his throat to laugh back. They could try, but he wouldn’t let them. They’re not aware of this, but they already had their chance in high school. Now Jongdae is all his.

“If I were you, I’d worry more about Jongin. He won’t be happy with just sex, after a while. I know him, he’ll want dates and flowers and cuddles. Jongin is the kind of man who’d put a ring on your finger.”

Baekhyun scoffs. “I’m allergic to all those things. I could probably faint at the mere sight of a ring.”

“Be careful, hyung, Jongin can be very stubborn.”

Jongdae calls Sehun before Baekhyun can answer. “Are you ready Sehunnie? We’ll miss the last train if you don’t move your bony ass.”

Baekhyun punches Sehun’s shoulder and snickers. “You better go, married man, before your wife gets angry.”

Sehun sighs and waves goodbye to his hyung.

“Aye, coming.”

They run to the train station holding the jackets in their hands, feeling the first breath of summer kiss their skin. Jongdae’s laugh is a little too loud, his steps a little too hurried. Almost unseen, the corner of his eye twitches when he turns to look at Sehun. He looks surprised to be still alive.

Sehun wants to mock him, to take his little revenge by asking him if his friends weren’t so bad, after all, but when he touches Jongdae’s wrist to steady him at a crossing, just the littlest hint of skin on skin, he feels a zap of electricity striking down his body.

Jongdae is pulled taut, like a string ready to snap, throbbing with excitement and joy. His eyes are little shining wells of wonder. “Did you see them? They like me, don’t you think? I think they do, but you’ve known them longer than me. Which is false, I’ve known Baekhyun and Chanyeol for longer, but you’ve been their friends for longer, and it’s your opinion that counts, not mine, in this particular case at least. Do they like me, Sehun?”

Sehun nods, smiling, his hand circling Jongdae’s wrist a little tighter as they cross the street at the green light. Jongdae almost jumps out of his skin in relief and walks faster towards home. All the feelings, anxiety, uneasiness, fear, that he’s bottled up in prevision of this meeting, have turned into pure, sheer energy trapped in his tiny, lithe body, and Sehun knows a perfect way to release it.

He squeezes Jongdae’s hand and bends down to mouth at his ear, “I want to fuck you in Joonmyeon-hyung’s bathtub tonight.”




“So, tell me again… It wasn’t too bad, right?”

Jongdae’s affirmative mumble is swallowed in Sehun’s mouth, lost against the roof of his tongue. Jongdae’s mouth tastes like soap, the natural consequence of that idiotic habit to make bubbles with shampoo when they decide to put to a good use Joonmyeon’s abandoned bathtub. Every single time Sehun complains about it, he gets a high-pitched laugh and foam in his face in return. To be honest, the sight of Jongdae hiccupping and giggling and spitting a mouthful of bubbles every time he opens his lips is lovely, but Sehun hates to taste chemicals when he’s kissing him afterwards.

He lets go, tracing the way Jongdae’s chest rises and falls in a harsh rhythm and enjoying the surge of pride at the thought to be the only one who can take his breath away.

“No, it wasn’t,” Jongdae answers, when he’s regained enough breath to talk. It still comes out airy and low. “They were… unexpectedly nice. Did you already know that Baekhyun was going out with Jongin?”

“They’re not going out. They’re fucking. Baekhyun doesn’t do dates.”

Jongdae’s look is quizzical, but Sehun doesn’t want to talk about Byun Baekhyun and his commitment issues, not when Jongdae is still warm and pink from the bath, still open and pliant after Sehun fucked him in the tub until the water went cold, so cold, but they were burning so hot they couldn’t feel it.

“It’s a long story, don’t wanna tell,” he sighs, twisting Jongdae’s nipple in his fingers until Jongdae lets out that little moan he only releases when he’s still worried about things such as not being too loud. Those kinds of thoughts usually flies out of his mind after a few minute of Sehun’s ministrations. Sehun only has to try harder.

“Sehunnie,” he pleads, “enough, it hurts.”

Sehun lets go, only to trace the nub with his tongue, and Jongdae shakes under him, torn between pulling away and pushing against Sehun’s mouth. He looks up at his boyfriend from under his dark fringe, still wet from the bath, trying at least to put a pretence of apology in his eyes. Sehun can’t help the smirk, though, because Jongdae looks wrecked and undone, and they haven’t even started with the second round.

“Feeling worn out already? It sucks, doesn’t it? To be an adult.”

Jongdae flares up, his voice unsteady and croaky, “You know what sucks? You, you suck. You little, insatiable, devious sex fiend. I have limits, you know?”

“And that’s why I’m here. To help you test those limits! And to suck you, of course,” he adds with glee. Jongdae’s protest fades out in a louder moan this time, and maybe the ghost of Sehun’s teeth will circle his nipple for a day or two. Sehun’s hands slide slower, on barely slick skin, to play with Jongdae’s navel, his pale hips, following the trail of hair downwards.

“Are you ready for the second round, Jongdae-yah?”

“Respect!” Jongdae squeal, without even meaning it, just for the sake of accusation. It comes out half-outraged and half-frustrated, “I should’ve never followed you home that day, I swear, you’re wicked, you’re going to kill me, my body can’t take this much stimulation in a row, you know?” When Jongdae isn’t totally gone, but just on the verge of getting there, he starts to ramble. And complain. Lot of complaints. It used to scare Sehun a lot, to be constantly refused by his lover, until he realized – okay, more than realizing himself, Jongdae had to voice it out loud – that Jongdae was capable to tell him to stop if he really wanted to sleep. He simply likes to whine, that’s it. Sehun thinks it’s a sort of vocal training, a way to warm up his voice and avoid burning his throat later, because Jongdae can be awfully vulgar and loud in bed. It’s not only his fault, though, because Sehun, on the other hand, is a damn tease.

“Oh, poor Jongdae, I am sorry. I’m going to stop now, wouldn’t want to overdrive you,” his hands barely brush against Jongdae’s cock before he retreats, feeling Jongdae’s body thrust up against his own, blindly looking for the pressure of Sehun’s hands on him again.

“What are you doing?” he pants, and Sehun’s fingers grace his hips and navel again, and the white, unmarred skin of his inner thighs, right where he knows Jongdae is so sensitive. He’s careful to avoid Jongdae’s half-hard cock, despite the not-so-subtle twitch of his hips towards Sehun’s wandering hands, or Jongdae’s choked little sighs.

“I have to be careful, since you’re not so young anymore.”

He can’t say he’s not expecting it, but he still revels in the way Jongdae flips them over to climb on Sehun’s hips, grabbing Sehun’s hand and thrusting it against his cock, with a needy whine. “You’re a dick, Sehun, and if you don’t do your job I’ll never cook for you again, did you hear me?”

“Now who’s the one who wants me only for my body?” he snickers, but he does it anyway, cradle Jongdae’s erection in his hand and tug slightly, tracing the vein with the short, blunt nail of his pinkie.

Sehun is an eager kid, and if it was only for him, he’d already be fucking Jongdae hard and fast, the way he likes it. But Jongdae likes foreplay, likes to feel the pleasure building, step by step, in his gut. And Sehun loves to see Jongdae slowly losing it, piece after piece. Jongdae is smooth, calm and in control, but Sehun can take it all away, he can make him wild and delirious when he decides to play along with Jongdae’s little whims. His cock throbs, demanding to be inside Jongdae, bringing them to dance over the edge, but Jongdae has taught Sehun the benefits of being patient. He can wait, if that means having Jongdae all for himself with no barriers, not even the ones inside Jongdae’s smart head.

“Sehun, Sehun-ah, Sehunnie, I’m ready Sehun, stop teasing me.”

He ignores Jongdae’s thin keen and the distracting slickness of his parted soft lips. Jongdae’s eyes are closed and his long lashes cast even longer shadows on his face, wet strands of brown hair are plastered on his forehead and he looks lovely, begging for a release that only Sehun can give him. It’s so difficult to resist, because Jongdae is tempting and his cock is heavy and hard in Sehun’s hold. He looks more than ready, but Sehun only drags his forefinger over the length of Jongdae’s erection, breathing slowly to keep his composure. He wants Jongdae to beg, this time, like he didn’t do before, in the bathtub, when the nervousness and the residual excitement of the past evening was shooting liquid fire down their veins and they both wanted nothing more than to extinguish it in rapid, searing kisses and shallow, quick thrusts.

In Sehun’s mind, sex between him and Jongdae is divided in two categories. There’s sex, when drowning in each other is the only protection they get from the world. When they’re tired, or angry, or nervous, or happy and excited, and they just want to lose everything else to find themselves again. When they have no time and they must be quick, when they’re tired and it’s slowly and languid, when it’s a surprise for the both of them and they find themselves with their limbs tangled and hair a mess before they can even realize.

And then there’s sex, when there’s no ulterior motive other than Sehun really wanting to dismantle Jongdae and put him back together with his own hands, when Jongdae relinquishes all control to Sehun, trusting that Sehun will know what to do with it, that he’ll take Jongdae’s fragilities and cradle them between his fingers like the most precious treasures. It took so long, so many attempts, for Sehun to learn how to do it, how to give Jongdae what he really wants, even what he’s not aware of wanting.

He brings Jongdae higher and higher, until he’s teetering over the edge, yanking him down at the last second. The window is closed this time, so that no one can hears it when Jongdae starts to curse violently, tearing Sehun’s skin apart with his nails. It also means that nothing can swallow Jongdae’s cries, throaty and desperate, no rain, no thunder or city traffic. Sehun likes it more like this, because being with Jongdae is always special, but having him like this is even more special, and he wants to be able to listen. He’s still learning how to drag Jongdae out of his shell, and he doesn’t want to fuck up everything.

But Jongdae is how he always is, how he was that first night of recklessness. His tongue doesn’t taste like alcohol and fried chicken this time, but the way he tugs at Sehun’s hair to drag him up for another kiss, the uncontrollable, tiny tremble of his hips, the way he can’t help but ride Sehun’s thigh and spill profanities in his ears, low and excited and out of control, that hasn’t changed.

He’s already breathless, and hard too, sitting like a ragged doll on Sehun’s legs, maybe a little lost. “Sehun,” his breath is ragged, “please.”

Wouldn’t it be strange, to hear a professional, an adult with a work and responsibilities, begging a lazy student like Sehun for release? What would society say? What would Sehun’s or Jongdae’s own friends say if they hear it?

Sehun doesn’t know and it’s useless to wonder about it, because this is what Jongdae needs. Sehun pushing him on the bed crawling over him. Sehun spreading his leg with meticulous care and making his heart flutter with the tiniest kiss on his knee while he fumbles with the lube, hissing when the cold liquid hits his feverish skin. Sehun tilting his face and swallowing the weak litany of Sehun and please that Jongdae is chanting under his breath.

Jongdae is still pliant and warm from before, and the first orgasm has dragged away all the painful edge of excitement, so Sehun can focus on finding the right angle, the right intensity, the right speed to make Jongdae experience the best sex of his life. He uses all his tricks, marking Jongdae’s body as he fucks him, being careful to cut the stimulation when he feels him tightening and teetering over the edge to extend the pleasure as long as he can. The second time he slow down his thrusts to a light rocking motion, Jongdae starts to cry, big, lovely wet trails that spill from his lashes and down his crimson cheeks. The third time, he gives up on begging altogether, no longer able to form coherent words, almost helpless. Sehun shakes his head, feeling the sweat run down his back to make a mess on the sheets. His body is tense, and he’s as close to coming ad Jongdae is, but this is all about giving and taking, sacrifice and rewards, and Jongdae has given him the best gift today, agreeing to come out of his comfort zone to go with Sehun at Zitao’s place.

Sehun speeds up, feeling his resolve break. He’s approached his limit faster than he thought, but he doesn’t want to come before Jongdae, not after he’s teased him to such an extent. Jongdae shakes under him, and Sehun pulls his hair away to kiss his forehead and nose at the wet trails of tears.

“You’ve been so good, Jongdae, can you come now? Can you do this for me?” and Jongdae nods, his whole body jerking around Sehun’s cock. Their pace is frantic now, and Jongdae’s pulse under Sehun’s tongue is frantic too, drumming underneath his skin and into his heart, so fast that their bodies can’t keep up with it anymore. Then, under Sehun’s hand, Jongdae’s muscle spasm and tense, his belly convulsing. He closes his eyes tightly and comes without a sound, his voice and breath both trapped in his throat and in the merciless quakes of the aftershock. Sehun feels Jongdae all around him, and lets go. He’s so tired that he the orgasm barely shakes him, more a relief than everything else.




“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” says Jongdae, almost an hour later, jabbing Sehun in the side. “I can’t feel my arms.”

“I think you feel it perfectly since you just used it to wake me up. If you’re sore, sleep,” he mumbles, but he’s exploding inside. Best sex Jongdae’s ever had. Now that’s a real compliment. Even though he’ll need to step up his game, the next time he wants to make Jongdae see stars, to gain it again.

“You’re smiling so much your face is going to break, stop pretending to be grumpy,” Jongdae jokes slightly, and he launches himself on top of Sehun. For one who declared he couldn’t feel his limbs he’s moving an awful lot.

“Can you please stop moving? I’m tired, you know? Hot, mind-blowing sex is something that comes with a price. My stamina, in this case.”

“Oh, poor baby, will you have cramps tomorrow morning? Don’t worry, tomorrow I’ll top, so you can rest your tired hips.”

Sehun fights a gratified purr at the thought of being babied and spoiled by his hyung.

There’s something to be said about the way Jongdae makes Sehun feel. Sehun may have his ways to worship Jongdae’s body thoroughly, but Jongdae knows how to take care of Sehun better than anyone else, with a tenderness that shakes his core and leaves a cosy tingle inside his chest. He would’ve never pegged himself for the cheesy type, a few months ago. He used to think that the whole romantic shit was, after all, shit. Jongdae is not his first boyfriend, but he’s never allowed the others to get this near, he’s never given anyone the power to hurt him so much. Maybe now he understands his friends’ worries, just a little. After all, this is completely out of character for Sehun. Looking for another person’s warmth, being sad when they’re not here, not only putting in actual effort to be a decent person or them, but dedicating a lot of his time to their happiness. He wonders when the sombre, stone-faced kid with a poisonous tongue and close to no enthusiasms towards anything is gone. Maybe the old Sehun melted under Jongdae’s hands and tongue, in his eyes that always look for Sehun first when he comes back home, in his warm smile that blossoms as soon as he’s sure that, yes, his Sehun is still there for him.

Jongdae is rapidly falling asleep, and his hand curls around Sehun’s hip to keep him close. The first night they slept together, the famous one-night stand that changed everything, Sehun expected this beautiful stranger with a too loud laugh and brilliant eyes to disappear like a dream at the first rays of sunshine. When in the morning, he woke up to apologetic eyes and Jongdae fretting to explain him that, no, I didn’t want to bother you by still being there but you’re kinda holdingontomyhand and I can’t go away like this, he felt nothing but relief. An inexplicable, unjustified relief. A pleasant weight in his chest that has never gone away since then.

He drags Jongdae closer, holding him against his chest and listening to his long drawn, peaceful breaths.

Tomorrow, Sehun will get up first, like he always does, and will spend hours nuzzling Jongdae’s collarbones, his throat, his cheeks, with his nose, pushing against the skin to breathe him, until Jongdae will wake up to make him breakfast. They will laze around, they have nothing to do tomorrow, and Jongdae will be sleepy and cute as a puppy all morning, only lighting up when Sehun will start to stretch to practice a new dance move for the dance crew summer project. Jongdae will stare, mesmerized, as Sehun draws sharp, elegant figures on the air with his body, and he will run to the kitchen to retrieve the first aid kit when Sehun will accidentally hit the crystal paperweight, that hideous thing that Mrs. Kim brought the last time she visited Joonmyeon, with his elbow. And during the afternoon, when Jongdae will be awake enough and Sehun will start to get restless and whiny, maybe Jongdae will fuck him, holding his hands through it, humming low around Sehun’s cock to make him shiver, dragging him close and petting his hair, calling him honey and dear and whispering words that Sehun never even dared to hope for in his dreams. Or maybe Sehun will curl against his boyfriend on the couch while they watch a movie, or, even worse, something National Geographic-ish and scientific that Joonmyeon texted Jongdae about three minutes ago. And maybe he’ll text Baekhyun to complain about it and Jongin will reply instead, because of course they’re together, and he will mock Sehun because he’s stuck with the cultivated TA while Jongin’s got the cool one. And Sehun will be forced to send anonymous messages where he reveals that Baekhyun not only bottoms, sometimes, for Jongin, but he also has a tiny dick, to no one other than Huang Zitao, and the entire city will hear his gossip-radar explode. And Chanyeol will send all caps kakaotalk threats to all of them because he’s been enjoying Sandara-ssi’s company and they’re ruining it with their twitter whines.

He doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow. Endless possibilities unfold under his heavy eyelids, in that tiny space between thought and dream. Whatever will happens, Jongdae will be in Sehun’s arms tomorrow, the day after, and the day after again, calling him his baby with his sleepy morning smile that kisses Sehun’s skin gently, like a ray of sunshine, bringing light to Sehun’s life even when it’s raining, especially when it’s raining and Jongdae keeps the window open and stares outside like a nostalgic kitty and Sehun comes to love the rain even more because it reminds him of Jongdae and Jongdae is so beautiful, so perfect, so…

When Jongdae murmurs a breathy, yawned good night, Sehun is already dreaming.

{you are mine, you are mine as long as my eyes will be able to look into your eyes.}




end.

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Author's note: i want to thank all the people that held my hand through this, especially c. and my beta g., who edited the last part from her phone at the beach, ty. the title and the quotes are translations from lucio battisti's avventura.

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