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"Hey, so, uhhh. You know, what's going on with you and Minseok-hyung?" Chanyeol asks one night, suddenly, cutting himself off mid-sentence during their video call. Through the screen all Sehun can read in Chanyeol’s face is pure, genuine curiosity.
And the thing is-
The thing is, Sehun doesn't know how to respond. Doesn't really want to respond to begin with, honestly. There's a tiny little part of him still petulant that Chanyeol all but abandoned him the second he earned his freedom to go make music in the US without him. Jumped on a plane to create something with someone else. And that petulance makes him not want to open up and share.
But that's completely unfair, Sehun knows. Beyond his sullenness, when he swallows down his self centered pride and loneliness, he's actually really happy for Chanyeol. A thrumming pleasure that he's making the connections he wants and producing like he wants. He certainly deserved it, too, with all the shit he went through at the end of 2020. Sehun is just…
Fragile.
"Nothing is going on," Sehun says, after a moment, whisper soft despite being alone in his dimly lit condo. Almost always just him, alone.
"Hmmm," Chanyeol responds, sounding unconvinced.
"Trust me, nothing is going on," Sehun repeats, unable to keep the bitter bite out, as he runs a hand over the back of his head. The prickly, short hairs tickle his palm and he thinks, idly, about how soon enough his hair will be even shorter.
In the end, though, no one knows him better than his Chanyeollie-hyung. No one knows his fears better, knows how to read all his moods better, and no one else knows his secrets like Chanyeol does, one of the only members who Sehun's come out to, even more than ten years later. Sometimes, Sehun thinks Chanyeol is the only one who truly knows him in his entirety.
So it's no surprise to Sehun when he sees the flicker of understanding, an expression that's not quite pity but close enough to rankle.
"Then, what do you want to be going on?" Chanyeol asks instead, drumming his fingers against his cheek. Sehun focuses on the movement of his fingers and not the desperate need for a beer - he's been drinking less, these days, dieting again for all the schedules lined up.
"What does it matter," Sehun sighs, picking up his phone to relocate to the bedroom.
"Have you thought about telling him?"
Sehun clicks his tongue in annoyance.
"What good would that be?" He scoffs, placing Chanyeol on the nightstand so he can curl up under the covers. If this is really going to happen - like it seems to be - then he's going to be damn well comfortable for it.
"Well, maybe he's into you, too. Definitely seems that way," Chanyeol says after Sehun is settled, phone left propped against the lamp.
"Do I look like a pretty chaebol heiress with perfect, perky boobs? I'm obviously not his type, hyung. Remember? I'm second place for the member he'd least want to date," Sehun says, memory a mile long particularly where it concerns perceived slights. The bitterness has crept back into his tone, he knows, so before Chanyeol can protest his words he smooths it out by joking, "Besides, look what happened last time I confessed to a fellow member. Tragically straight."
As expected, Chanyeol rears back in laughter. Sehun, reflexively, grins back at him. Chanyeol loves to be reminded of Sehun's adolescent crush on him during their early debut days. He had taken Sehun's clumsy confession to heart, touched to be trusted with the secret that came with it, and let it bind their friendship into something air-tight. An inside joke for just them. He can't display it openly but Chanyeol privately wears it like a badge of honour. It's so stupid and Sehun hates that he isn't the slightest bit annoyed by it.
The conversation gets back on track after that, Chanyeol seemingly dropping and forgetting the topic altogether.
Sehun doesn't forget about his conversation with Chanyeol but he also doesn't actively think about it, either. He's great at compartmentalizing and, for all the self work he's been doing, this is one thing he doesn't want to touch. Doesn't really see the point. After all, he's admitted his feelings to himself, pseudo admitted them to Chanyeol. What else is there besides wallowing in it? Admittedly, he's good at it, but the point of his self work was to not wallow.
It doesn't hurt that he's too busy to really think about the conversation anyway. He has fashion - Egypt, modeling, photoshots. He has recordings for group content and his solo vlog, has been practicing for their December stages, has studio recording, has the buzz of activity that precedes a comeback.
So, he doesn't actively think about it. He swallows his feelings down, carries on and doesn't think about it.
Not until he's faced with them, inescapable.
They’re recording. Not all together, their individual schedules far too busy still with a variety of different appearances. But most of them.
Sehun is already in a dour mood, having spent his morning with rejection after rejection when it came to negotiating his solo. He's tired of fighting every step of the way, ready to swallow his pride and turn to Chanyeol for help and backup. It keeps him from joining the chatter, too exhausted to make himself the metaphorical oil in the conversational joints as he so often is. Instead, he sticks to one of the couches at the back and focuses entirely on his lyrics sheet, cap pulled low and avoiding eye contact.
It takes Jongdae stepping into the recording booth, some half hour in, to pull him out of his downward spiral. He's never hidden Jongdae being his favourite vocalist amongst them so he rolls the lyrics up, shoving it into his back pocket, and gravitates closer to the speakers, eager for the distraction.
As is the usual these days, however, Minseok's voice still catches and holds his attention. As much as he wants to focus solely on Jongdae slipping into Chen’s skin, he can't help but be pulled into the gravitational field of his tiny hyung and what he's saying instead.
It turns out to be a mistake.
"-I mean, a single date won’t hurt? May as well let him introduce us, who knows where it’ll lead,” Minseok says, Junmyeon nodding along with him. "Not like I'm getting any younger and we’ve been friends so long I trust his judgement."
They're the only ones left now, along with Chanyeol who's throwing him concerned looks that he pointedly ignores and Jongdae in the booth. A cool, frosty feeling starts blooming in his chest and Sehun tries to smother the feelings - the sour, irrational jealousy and hurt - before they can surface so he can feel them later in private. He can’t afford to have a visible breakdown now, not when he still has to make it through the rest of this recording block. Not when he’s around people (Junmyeon) that would try to make him talk about it.
After, as he’s leaving, Minseok catches his wrist.
“Sehun-ah, let’s get something to eat later? Just you and hyungie?” Minseok asks in the cute tone he uses when he wants something but doesn’t want to use his elder card, face open and honest, and Sehun feels the icy shards of his own hurt dig deeper.
“Sure, hyung,” Sehun replies once he unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Minseok searches his face like he knows something is off and he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong. After a moment he lets go of Sehun’s wrist with a drawn out hum, dropping the searching gaze.
“I’ll text you later, Sehunnie.”
Sehun leaves the recording room.
Leaves the recording room and then walks out the building completely, bypassing the practice room he had booked weeks ago to run through their new choreo on his own. He gets in his car and starts driving in silence, unsure exactly of where he’s going.
His phone vibrates somewhere around the ten minute mark. When he checks his notifications at a red light he sees it’s a message from Chanyeol.
He ignores it.
He ignores it and keeps driving.
Sehun doesn't think about where he's headed. He pulls onto an off ramp and clears his mind from the tangle of thoughts that are scrambling to all be had at the same time. Lets himself sink into the hum of the engine, the grind of pavement beneath his wheels, the power beneath his fingertips on the steering wheel. He drives without a destination in mind, without any real conscious thought, and lets himself enter somewhat of a fugue state.
Honestly? Sehun isn’t sure exactly where it started.
Well, that’s a lie. While he can't pinpoint the exact moment things shifted, he is aware of the general when. It irks him just the slightest bit that he hadn't realized what was happening until he was hit with the full force of his changed feelings. He's usually not so oblivious. So obtuse with himself.
2020 had been challenging. 2021 was the worst. He was left floundering with Junmyeon, Chanyeol and then Baekhyun in the army, unable to just call them up when he needed someone.
It's funny, in a way, that he had been so burnt out by the end of 2019 to the point of almost quitting, suffering chronic pain and health issues from pushing past the breaking point of exhaustion, only to have the isolation of 2020 leading into 2021 nearly break him in another way. His loneliness, a constant friend his whole life, had gnawed at him more fiercely; a gaping wound in his chest aching to be filled.
Then.
Sehun gave Minseok a gold chain.
Sehun gave Minseok a gold chain and Minseok gave him back endless devotion.
And Sehun fell hopelessly in love. How could he not? Suddenly, Minseok was there in a way he had never quite been before. He was warm smiles and lingering touches, a gentle voice over the phone at 3 in the morning and lighthearted silliness over late night drinks. They had always been close, forced together by circumstance and a necessity to guarantee long term success as a group; yet, a bond no less important to Sehun than friendship of choice.
They had always been close but never quite like this.
(He suspects, at times, that maybe Minseok had simply taken it upon himself to step into the empty support role that Sehun was so clearly missing. Pity wasn't quite the right word to use, but close to. Honour bound, perhaps - he always did take hierarchy seriously, after all.
But those were after midnight thoughts. Quiet little doubts he refused to let take root.)
It had been easy to let their friendship evolve in this new way, blooming like a flower in spring. Easy to let his heart flutter whenever Minseok would proudly show off his necklace during promos with no short amount of praise. To savour each and every doting touch.
And before Sehun knew it, he was in love. It wasn't earth shattering, it wasn't devastation. But like a lot of things, Sehun took his love and held it close to his chest. A gift wrapped secret he kept in his heart only. He was entirely too much of a romantic to reject the notion of love completely; he couldn't have a relationship himself but he could still let himself have the luxury of fully experiencing his love quietly and to himself.
His one sided loves, prior, had always fizzled out on their own, a smolder without tinder or oxygen to keep feeding it. Somehow, though, Sehun's love for Minseok only grew stronger, flames fanned into an out of control fire. He's never yearned for a return of his feelings so strongly, before.
Sehun's never had to purposely let them go, before.
Sehun is not an inattentive driver. He truly enjoys driving for the sake of driving, for as much as he uses it as an escape and a way to sort through his thoughts. So it’s a bit surprising to him when he sees the sign for Pyeongtaek and he realizes he’s been driving for nearly an hour. It's a little like being pulled out of a dream, awakened while sleepwalking.
He needs to make a decision to either keep going or turn around.
The turn signal clicks out a sharp, staccato beat. Highway pavement becomes residential road and Sehun navigates like a tourist, half lost and taking in the buildings around him. He’s not quite sure what he's looking for until he's found it; a small café, nondescript and tucked between various little street shops.
The café is plain on the outside, a stark contrast to the inside when Sehun steps inside; it's all warm, yellow lights, rustic wood furniture and kitschy decor, but minimalist in its approach.
Somewhere Minseok would like, Sehun thinks, completely unbidden. Just like the feelings he’s been swallowing down all day, however, Sehun ignores the rattling in his chest at the thought and steps up to order.
As he waits for his items, he feels his phone buzz, stop, then buzz again in his hand. The frequency of texts coming in had started to steadily pick up as he pulled into the city and he continues to ignore them now in favour of taking in the scenery around him. He keeps ignoring them right up until he turns the device off all together once he sits at a secluded table with his order, tucked around the back near an exposed brick wall.
He enjoys his coffee, sharply bitter on his tongue instead of the mild bloom of his normal fruit teas. He enjoys his custard dessert, silky smooth and brown sugar sweet. Sehun takes his time with both, luxuriating in the indulgence and his thoughts.
He needs more time to think, he decides by the time he's finished. He needs to collect himself before they really get into the swing of things. Needs to swallow down his feelings to make it through the next few months.
Sehun places his spoon down on the porcelain plate carefully with a little clink, takes a deep breath, and turns his mobile back on and the messages waiting for him. The ones he ignored earlier and a few new ones that came in after.
The ones from Chanyeol start silly, obvious distraction attempts, then turn into sulky demands to stop ignoring him and then land on a final concerned text. And oh, how terrible it is to have a friend who knows you like the back of their hand. Who can look at what others would call a blank, bitchy expression and discern the fine lines like a palm reader at a fair.
There's one from Jongin, asking why he wasn't there when he went to visit him at the practice room.
Then there's also Minseok, asking where he wants to go on their 'dinner date'.
Date.
Date-
He texts Chanyeol back first and foremost. Tells him not to be dramatic, he just went for a drive. Sehun pauses for a moment after hitting send then adds a secondary text, a simple heart emoji.
The others he leaves on read without a reply. For now.
Instead, Sehun pulls up his contact list and calls his personal manager.
“Manager-nim,” Sehun starts sweetly, saccharine like his dessert, tapping a finger on the table in a low drum.
“You’re about to ruin my day, aren’t you, Sehun-ssi?” Comes the exasperated sigh.
“I need my schedule cleared for the next few days,” Sehun says, getting right to it. He doesn’t bother playing coy.
There’s a beat of silence. Sehun waits.
“Is this a joke? Am I being recorded?”
“Please,” Sehun replies, letting his weariness and honesty rest in his voice. There’s another moment of silence before his manager replies again, voice kind.
“Alright, alright, leave it to me. I’ll get whatever I can rescheduled, cancel the others. But I deserve a gift after this.”
"Promise. Anything." Already, from this one simple thing, it feels like some of the weight has been lifted. The call wraps up with a simple goodbye, his manager not pushing for more and Sehun not offering anything beyond what he’s already said.
He sits for another few minutes, tries to figure out if he’s going to have a destination in mind or not for this drive. He’s come this far already without a plan, let the roads guide him as they often do when he needs to work out his thoughts, but this feels... more deliberate now that he’s secured this bubble of time in the middle of schedules. Deliberation makes him feel like he needs to have a plan in place. An excuse to give if someone asks where he was.
He considers the coast. He considers Busan, Ulsan, Jeonju. But then he hears Minseok’s voice in his head, wistfully talking about his Wolchulsan visit during a night of drinking. Telling Sehun how nice it was and how they should visit together, how Sehun should give up golf and start hiking with him.
He decides Wolchulsan. He texts his manager, asking him to find him a hotel in Mokpo for a few nights. Makes him promise not to tell anyone where he is if they ask.
Politely, Sehun gathers his dishes together on the table before he takes his leave.
During his drive to Pyeongtaek, however unintentional it had been, Sehun had kept himself in silence and maybe that was what had let him drive so far without realizing where he had been going. Now that he knows where he’ll be driving, knows how long he’ll be driving for, he sets up his playlist for company. Before he even leaves his parking spot, his heart is aching beneath his breast bone – just as he had promised all those months ago, not just a lie for the camera, he had placed Minseok’s solo at the top of his driving playlist. Now, the soft piano notes fill the space around Sehun, giving way to Minseok’s gentle voice.
Love is just a word. I miss you. I want to give you my love.
Sehun arrives at Mokpo just as the sun is starting to set. In the hours it took him to arrive, his manager had emailed him the details of his booking – along with a minor complaint about how difficult it was to find a vacancy with such short notice, though Sehun cannot detect any actual heat behind the words.
The hotel is not a hotel at all, but a hanok accommodation. Simple and tucked between other homes. It lacks the gilded gold of the ritzy places he’s become used to in their fame but it’s still nice. He checks in, noting the way the receptionist tilts her head like she knows she should recognize him but can’t place a finger on it, and immediately goes to his room to collapse for the night.
Again, he has more texts waiting for him when he checks.
Again, he ignores them.
His sleep is dreamless, eyes shutting and opening like a blink. A magic trick transition from night to morning.
For his first day in Mokpo, Sehun decides to stay within the city. He came this way for Wolchulsan but he came without any prior plans, letting the wind guide him. The only luggage of any sort he has is the spare pair of sweats in his backseat that he had taken with him for his intended dance practice. Not exactly hiking gear.
Sehun spends his early morning searching up places in Mokpo; if he’s going to be going out to pick up what he needs, he may as well treat it like any other vacation and see what he can of the place. He ignores the texts that come in, presumably as he hasn’t shown up for their meeting, and looks up stores and places to go.
He buys clothes from a department store; cheap and unbranded, so different from the luxury names he’s become comfortable in. Buys a pair of sturdy boots, mitts for the chill, everything he’ll need for the trails. He visits the Yudalsan Sculpture park around noon, strolling leisurely through the walkways and taking pictures of the trees, the sculptures, the temple, anything that looks interesting. Additions to his camera roll to look at in waiting rooms and during set changes, when he’s tucked away on his own yet again.
He finds a tiny restaurant for a late lunch, close to the waterfront. As he eats, he fields a few of his messages. Replies to the concerned ones from Junmyeon, not quite sure the clipped words in place of his normal ramble will do much to ease the other’s worries. Pretends everything is fine to his non-industry friends, the ones who wouldn’t have noticed his sudden disappearance as they don’t meet daily anyway. In the group chat, Baekhyun's asked where he is and why he isn't at home or the dorms - he ignores that one and the one threatening to scale the side of the building and climb in through the window. A few hours after that message is one from Yixing, worried - ‘Baekhyun said you ran away from home?’. That one, unlike the others, causes ice-cold shame and guilt to run through him to gather uncomfortably in his stomach, turning it inside out. He hates worrying his Yixing-hyung, his ge, already so weighed down with his own burdens and responsibilities, his own loneliness, candle burning at both ends and so busy he hardly sleeps.
The last message from Minseok reads ‘Sehun-ah, is everything okay?'
He goes to one of the beaches after, coarse rocky sand and brine scented air. The salt fills his lungs as he sits, perched atop one of the larger rocks, arms curling around himself. To keep the cold out or to keep himself together, he couldn’t say.
Sehun thinks and he thinks and he thinks.
Some days it feels like all he does is think. About the past, the future. Analyzing all the things he could do differently, what he couldn't have changed even if he tried. He’s made his image into one of ‘head empty, no thoughts’, sank into his baby role so efficiently that sometimes he himself forgets that he’s smarter than he pretends not to be until he gets caught back up in his introspective loops.
Sehun remembers his very first crush. Another trainee, one who didn't make it far enough to debut but someone he had still spent countless hours sweating, practicing and laughing with. Gilded memories of youth, good and bad and formative.
More than his first crush, though, he remembers the words of a sunbaenim ; someone the same as him who had noticed before Sehun could ever work up the courage to think about saying anything to the other boy. He remembers the warning:
"A dating scandal could end their career. A dating scandal will end our careers."
It’s not that he thinks he can get rid of his feelings by sheer force of will alone; he’s not that fanciful. Emotions deserve to be felt, to be experienced to their full. But he knows that if he lets himself luxuriate in this Minseok thing any more than he already has then he’ll never have a chance to move forward. He doesn’t want to lose Minseok’s friendship, especially now that they’ve reached this new stage they’ve never quite hit before. It was easy, so so easy, to let his love colour his days and coexist with the warmth of friendship when he could willingly step back at any time. When he could exit any time it swelled too big and threatened to swallow him whole until he was ready again.
And already, he’s started pulling back from Minseok. Afraid of the fans figuring him out more than they already have. Afraid of the others catching on when he knows that Chanyeol’s already figured it out. Granted, Chanyeol is in a unique position of knowing his preferences to begin with so it would be easier for him to make the connection but the concern remains.
He fears so much. Fears people finding out, fears crossing the line and being rejected, fears ruining everything they’ve built together.
Sehun doesn’t date – has never actually been in a relationship (“a dating scandal will end our careers” rattles in his brain endlessly on loop) – but he’s had recurring hookups. He remembers one of them, as he sits there on that rock, telling him a story about falling in love with a friend. How he had worked up the courage to confess only to be ridiculed and shunned by all their whole circle.
He also remembers his friends from highschool, a mixed group of classmates. Remembers when one of the guys had started dating one of their female friends. Remembers when they broke up and how it had caused nothing but awkwardness until finally the group had split in two.
But.
He also remembers how another one of his prior partners had gone on to start dating one of his colleagues after. How happily he spoke about how the risk had been worth it, how the required secrecy was nothing when compared to their happiness. Sehun still sees him sometimes, during his modeling gigs, so he knows they're still together, and knows it can work out.
Sehun has so much to lose, though.
(“You have so much to gain, too.” He hears, in the back of his mind, a voice that sounds strangely like Jongin.)
He also wonders if, perhaps, nothing has to change as drastically as he believes. Maybe he can let things stay as they are and just mind himself more. Maybe it’ll be easier to not get so overwhelmed now that Minseok has his regular members back, the ones he typically sticks to.
Now that Sehun doesn’t have to be the stand in.
The waves roll gently against the shore, tiny whitecaps breaking softly. There’s no violent breakers, no tumultuous tides. Easily, Sehun sees the comparison to his moods; there is, in both the waters and his mind, the potential for an upsurge with the right force but often they’re calm. Sehun is the ocean, his heart the boat navigating the tides of his feelings.
The sun settles, lowering behind the horizon, golden light igniting the coast and sunlight sparkling radiant diamonds in the water. A magic hour of illumination lighting up the world before the blue hour takes it’s place to cool it all down again.
When the last rays of sunlight die, that’s when Sehun takes a deep breath and gets up to leave.
Sehun drives to Mokpo bridge, lit up now in the darkness of night. He takes a few more pictures, thumb hovering over the send button to Chanyeol in their private thread, sheer force of habit, before he closes the app again. He knows if Chanyeol really wanted to he could find out where he was. All he would have to do is check Sehun’s banking history - they’ve joked before about how Sehun has all the pins and logins for Chanyeol but it runs both ways. But if he sends a picture then he would have to talk about it and that’s exactly what he’s trying to avoid.
He finds a bar then, after parking his car at his lodgings and wandering around the surrounding neighbourhood. A small place tucked in between other establishments, western looking on the inside right down to the pool table in the corner. It’s not particularly busy, perhaps in thanks to being a weekday, and the handful of patrons already there don’t bother to spare him a first look let alone a second.
Sehun is on his third beer by the time someone does finally look his way. He notices the man, at the other end of the bar, when he looks towards the glass storefront just to get a sense of how alive the nightlife is. The guy isn’t being completely obvious in his staring but neither is he particularly subtle, batting his eyes over the lip of his glass and body angled Sehun’s way. Casually, Sehun pretends to be engrossed in his phone as he looks at him from the corner of his eye, looking for any sign of recognition. He tries hard to stay as humble as he can but he knows, as a clinical fact, that he always runs a high risk of being recognized. So far he’s been relying on the fact no one would expect him to be outside of Seoul to be his cloak of anonymity. He knows he’s been playing with fire, though, with the way he’s been galavanting around without a mask or any real attempt to really hide his identity.
He doesn’t read any recognition in the man’s features, however, after a few discreet glances. It’s more…
Interest.
A different look but one he still knows quite intimately.
It suddenly hits Sehun, then, being faced with someone else’s interest. Somehow, he hasn’t slept with anyone in over a year. The prospect hadn’t been all that appealing to him. Like he was cheating on someone - you know who, his mind supplies - he wasn’t even with but now…
He considers.
Perhaps it was the first step in distancing himself from his feelings. If he could get back to his regular habits. He looks back to the man again, less discreetly to let himself get caught returning the interest. The guy is handsome. Short, black hair and sharp, upturned eyes. Sehun can’t tell from how he’s seated but he looks to be an average height, shorter than Sehun like most people are. His forearms, visible beneath his rolled up sleeves, are thickly corded with muscle.
Sehun flicks the metal tab of his beer can with his thumb nail, hooking it under the nail and lifting, listening to the hollow, metallic click of it. He tries to imagine it. Imagines bringing the man back to his room, imagines letting himself be pushed up against the wall, imagines arching his back prettily. Imagines riding the guy reverse so he wouldn’t have to look at his face, so he could close his eyes and think of Min-
The realization is like a bucket of water dumped over his head. A chill down his spine.
The sharp, cat eyes. The curl of his lips. The guy reminds Sehun just the slightest bit of Minseok and he had just imagined getting fucked by Not-Minseok while thinking of his hyung. He knows he can’t do it, then, with crystal clear clarity. Even if the guy wouldn’t know what was going through Sehun’s mind, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone and it certainly wouldn’t help his plan in getting over things. He’s made many bad choices in his life, gotten lucky with almost none of them leaking, but he can’t keep doing that. It’s one thing to realize after the fact but another entirely to walk into it knowingly.
He drains the remainder of his beer, thanks the bartender and closes his tab. The guy eyes Sehun as he walks by, an appreciative up and down with a glimmer of hope, and Sehun politely dips his head in greeting, putting on his charming smile. He wouldn’t be sleeping with him but he could still acknowledge the attention.
There's a convenience store around the corner, neon lights shining bright like a beacon and Sehun follows its siren call like he's tethered to a rope. It’s just as bright inside, fluorescent overheads leaving Sehun squinting as he heads straight to the coolers. It’s a quick in and out; he grabs the first can his hands lands on and he keeps his gaze on the floor as he makes his way to the cash, intent on getting back to his accommodations. The hopeful mood he had been working his way towards had dropped again, stomach churning and all he wants to do is hide away again.
He leaves the store a few cans of beer and a single pack of smokes heavier.
When Sehun gets back to the hanok, he doesn't go in right away. Instead, he sits on the narrow porch in front of his room, sneakers off but jacket still on to protect him from the chill of the night, leaning back against the wooden post. In his hand, he flicks the pack of cigarettes around in a constant spin, knocking the corner against the knee he’s not bouncing for the upward momentum. Turn, knock, turn, knock. It keeps his mind empty.
He’s stalling for time but he’s not sure what he’s putting off. Smoking, perhaps - he rarely does it anymore. His own melodrama - it’s been at the back of his mind this whole time that he’s being a bit dramatic about this whole situation and he hates how base it is.
The reverie he's fallen into is abruptly interrupted by his phone, default ringtone echoing out in the otherwise quiet yard. It takes Sehun a moment to blink back, slowly reaching to see who’s calling him after being left, relatively, alone for the day. Kyungsoo’s name manages to catch him by surprise. He had been expecting Chanyeol, Junmyeon, perhaps Baekhyun. Had maybe even been hoping, in a tiny selfish way, for Yixing.
Sehun answers with a grunt of acknowledgement by the fifth ring.
“Oh Sehun,” Kyungsoo’s deep voice greets, tone even and steady in the way Kyungsoo so often is. Mild. Sehun’s heard people say before that they find Kyungsoo hard to read but he’s always found it quite easy. He was just… subtle. Carefully contained.
“Tell Baekhyun-hyung to stop telling people I ran away from home,” Sehun replies immediately, skipping all the pleasantries.
“Tell him yourself.” Kyungsoo sniffs. “And maybe don’t run away from home then he won’t have to.”
Sehun’s first instinct is to refute him. Deny the claim. But if he’s being completely honest, he sort of had. After years of threatening it, he really had run away even if he was planning on returning eventually.
“Ah, hyung,” Sehun sighs after a moment, deflating completely. He leans more of his weight up against the post, stretches his legs out and listens to Kyungsoo breathing in his ear as he waits for him to continue.
People tended to assume Junmyeon was the best listener in the group but it’s really Kyungsoo. Junmyeon was good for conflict management, great at getting to the heart of the issue and figuring out a solution but it also meant he wasn’t always the best listener . He didn’t really understand that not everything needed a five step resolution plan. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, was patient. He knew how to wait and knew that sometimes all Sehun needed was to talk, needed to spill his messy emotions out at his feet and leave them there. He didn’t always need the pieces picked up.
“I just needed space to think,” Sehun starts, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. Kyungsoo hums but doesn’t interrupt; lets Sehun get where he’s going, halting as it is. “There’s… someone. But it’s foolish. Even if they did have the same feelings it couldn’t - I’m just preparing myself for having to work with them without letting it get in the way.”
“That’s unfair, isn’t it?” Kyungsoo asks, clicking his tongue, “To not tell him about it or get his opinion.”
Sehun’s breath audibly catches in his throat, a sudden inhale, at Kyungsoo’s word choice - him .
“Hyung, I… it’s-” He starts, only to be cut off by Kyungsoo.
“Sehun-ah, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it but did you really think I wouldn’t notice? That we wouldn’t notice? Answer me honestly, Oh Sehun, do you really think there’s anyone out there who knows you better than us?” Kyungsoo doesn’t have to clarify who he means by ‘us’ - he could only be talking about the members, their weird little collected family.
Deep down, Sehun knows he’s right. A lump forms in his throat, tears blurring his vision. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying, decides it must be the lingering alcohol in his system. Or maybe it’s the implications. That he’s been so careful for so long, a deep rooted fear he pretends isn’t there, and knowing that all along he never had to be afraid. Further still, it’s the nonchalance in Kyungsoo’s tone. The lack of judgement when he could have so easily shown upset at Sehun’s long standing secrecy, like he doesn’t fault Sehun in the least for keeping something so big from the people who, as he said, know Sehun the best.
“There isn’t,” Sehun admits with a sniff, wiping the sleeve of his jacket under his eyes. “There really isn’t.”
“Ah, Sehun, you put too much pressure on yourself and overcomplicate things,” Kyungsoo says, fondness in his voice. It doesn’t feel like the same topic, like Kyungsoo simply saw the opportunity to reveal another Sehun related thought he’s had. “You should talk to him. What happened to my brave Sehunnie? Stop worrying about burdening others and just go for it.”
“It’s so risky, though, hyung,” Sehun whispers, free arm wrapped around his middle. He really should be inside instead of sitting out in the cold. Risky, he says, as if anything he does as a public figure isn’t a risk in one way or another. It’s easy for him to tell others to just go for it but it’s hard to hear his own advice echoed back to him and apply it.
“The best things are. Promise me, Sehun-ah, you’ll talk to him. He clearly likes you, too. Don’t worry about the members or dynamic or whatever else it is you’re worried about.” Sehun doesn’t dare ask who Kyungsoo thinks they’re talking about. He feels too cut open already in his transparency.
“If I get my heart broken then you’re treating me to dinner, hyung. Somewhere nice. You’ll owe me,” Sehun says, forcing the airy tone. It’s false bravado, desperation to get back to even ground, and they both know it.
“Of course, of course,” Kyungsoo replies, in that long-suffering yet indulgent tone of his. As if he doesn’t regularly take Sehun out to eat anyway, knowing full well he’s footing the bill, or like he doesn’t drop what he’s doing if at all possible to drive over and make something for Sehun after receiving a whiny text about how nothing compares to his Kyungsoo-hyung’s cooking.
“I’m hanging up. And tell Baekhyunnie-hyung to stop telling people I ran away!” Sehun repeats his earlier words, a bit more force behind them now as he filters in his regular defiance.
“Come home soon,” Kyungsoo says, all soft fondness again, followed by the jingle of the call ending.
Sehun takes in a deep breath, holds it in his lungs until the count of ten, then exhales again. He still feels… something. But he’s not as unmoored anymore. Kyungsoo is right; he always overcomplicates things in his own head. He’s been working lately to untangle his own webs, driving when his thoughts need space to be, but he’s forgotten that sometimes the best approach is letting someone else in to help him sort it out.
Sehun leaves his convenience store haul on the low table in the centre of his room and goes to bed.
Sehun wakes up just before noon the next day, dry mouth and stuck up hair, feeling far lighter than he has the past few mornings.
And while he feels sorted out enough to return to Seoul, he still has one more goal here; he came to Mokpo for a mountain so to the mountain he’ll go. Unhurried, he takes his time getting ready. Brushes his hair, changes into the hiking appropriate clothing he bought the morning before, laces his boots tightly.
His drive is just as unhurried, ten below the speed limit and window down to let the cool but warming air in. It’s a relaxing moment, something he knows he’ll be short on in the near future so he savours it. One hand on the steering wheel and the other held out the window, wind slipping through his fingers like water, like his complications.
Even going below the limit, it doesn’t take long for Sehun to arrive at the entrance he’s chosen, the beginning of one of the shorter loops that will still take him past the main attraction of Wolchulsan. It’s busy but not obnoxiously so, likely due to it still not being the best weather for outdoor activities. All the better if he can walk the trails relatively alone.
He wonders, what path had Minseok taken? Was it different from the one Sehun is about to walk? Or perhaps they are of the same mind, mirrored instincts and similar desires.
Already, his phone signal is weakening. Sehun decides to do one last thing before turning his device off; he snaps a picture of the trail map and it’s colour coded paths, park name proudly on top, and sends it to Minseok along with the message ‘next time, let's go together’.
The trail is beautiful. Bamboo forest and rocky terrain, temples, steep steep steps and rope rails. Sehun takes his time, a touch more leisurely than the people who pass him, enjoying the flat surfaces and sweating on the tougher sections. Despite what he’s said on camera, he’s never actually hiked before. Not like Minseok does. A few steep hills through a nature park does not a mountaineer make.
There’s a waterfall. He stops there for some time, watching the water as it splashes down the rockface, sweat drying on his temple and draining half his water bottle in nearly one go. He imagines his anxieties and worries are the splashing water, washing down the cliff face of his mind to be carried away to become a calm, babbling brook.
After the waterfall is Wolchulsan’s famed feature; Gureumdari herself. Bright red and stretching over a gulf of open air, connecting one peak to another.
Vaguely terrifying.
Sehun really is, truly, a scaredy cat. Mildly exaggerated but still a factual truth.
What happened to my brave Sehunnie?
Scared, but brave, he reminds himself. Brave enough to do things even if it made his legs tremble and bile rise in his throat.
The bridge is beautiful.
The bridge takes hardly any time to cross and leaves Sehun wondering what he was ever afraid of in the first place.
Downhill is easy. Sehun stops often, observes nothing in particular. Nature, he thinks, is nice. He sees the appeal of hiking.
When Sehun was searching the different paths to take, the one he had decided on had been clocked at three and a half hours on average. It's closer to four and half hours, when Sehun checks his watch, by the time he passes back through the initial entrance arch. He had expected that, though, having taken his time.
The parking lot is mostly empty at this time, too late to start and only people leaving, so he catches sight of someone leaning against the hood of his car instantly. Sehun's footsteps falter, pulse jumping against his neck. He's been so careless, hasn't been making enough effort to hide, that he's absolutely sure it's someone hoping to snap a picture until he forces himself to take a better look.
His shoulders slump when he recognizes just who it is. His tiny hyung, dark hair hidden by a ball cap and comically large sunglasses shielding his eyes.
Minseok is standing by his car, hours outside of Seoul, waiting for him and Sehun has never felt such an overwhelming wash of longing crash through him before. It's impossible; surely he's dreaming. He must have fainted somewhere along the path.
Minseok looks up from his phone, eyes capturing Sehun's and keeping him captive in his stare. Sehun tries to decipher the thoughts that flicker across Minseok's face but they're quicksilver, everything replaced by a relieved smile.
Sehun sticks his hands in his pockets and tries not to make it obvious that he's picked up his pace, long legs eating up the distance between him and Minseok.
"What if I had texted you after I finished?" Sehun asks by way of greeting, stopping a foot away.
"You shut your phone off so I took the chance,” Minseok says with a lift of his shoulder.
There’s a tension between them, a bated breath.
Sehun exhales and closes the gap. He leans against the car with Minseok, the side of a knee pressed to his.
"How'd you know this one was mine? Did you memorize my plate number, hyung?" Sehun jokes, cheeky, trying to mask his nerves.
Minseok doesn't deny it.
"I was going back tomorrow," Sehun mutters, toeing at the pavement.
Minseok shifts, arm reaching behind Sehun and hand landing on the hood of the car near his hip. Sehun can feel the lightest sensation of touch against the small of his back, feeling so close to a hug but not close enough, and before he realizes what he’s doing he’s tucking himself into Minseok’s side, curling down into him. His nose ends up pressed into the spot just below Minseok’s ear, filling with the scent of Minseok’s cologne, his shampoo, the faintest hint of a day’s worth of sweat.
“Okay,” Minseok says, sounding unbothered. Sehun can clearly picture the accompanied nod, feel the shift of it against the side of his head. “We’ll go back tomorrow.”
They hold this position for a while longer, parting just as the sun starts to sink below the horizon, one last burst of heat warming their backs. When they part, Sehun gives Minseok the address for his lodgings and drives in the lead, Minseok directly behind him the whole time.
“Welcome,” Sehun intones, ushering Minseok inside the room as if he were receiving a houseguest. Minseok wanders over to the low table at the centre of the room, eyebrow raising at the cigarette pack and drinks before sitting down with a groan.
Sehun takes the place across from him at the table, pushing one of the cans to Minseok and bringing another closer to himself, disregarding the room temperature, and popping the tab open. It feels no different than the many nights they’ve already spent drinking together, sitting across from each other at Minseok’s place or the table at the dorms where Sehun still spends a fair amount of his time, haunting the empty rooms like a lonely ghost.
“What did you think of the bridge? Impressive, right? Scary?” Minseok asks, conversationally.
“Scary? Who’s scared? They should set up a bungee jump station, I’ll be first in line,” Sehun says, making sure to put on his breezy, confident tone. Minseok's face softens, however, into something gentle, bordering on concern and he knows that he can't keep the act up.
"Chanyeollie hinted that I should talk to you," Minseok says. Sehun blows out a heavy breath through his nose, not at all surprised by this. Chanyeol was an excellent secret keeper but that was also often at odds with his need to just help people. Sometimes that meant making subtle, not so subtle, hints if he thought he could help influence things.
Sehun looks down at his hands, pushes one thumbnail under the other. He thinks about Chanyeol trying to nudge things into this direction.Considers how much he trusts him to not have encouraged this conversation if he had any doubts. He thinks back to Kyungsoo’s confidence, his encouragement.
Sehun takes a measured breath and looks up to Minseok still watching him.
“Did you go on that date after?” Sehun asks instead.
Minseok’s brows knit together for a moment, confused by the question and trying to piece together what Sehun was talking about. It takes a minute and then the recognition crosses his face, creases smoothing out and shaking his head.
“I didn’t,” Minseok says, head tilting to the side. Waiting for Sehun to clarify.
“You said ‘may as well’ but... if someone else asked you instead?” Sehun continues, placing his hands flat to the table to hide the way they’ve started sweating, palms turning clammy.
“Depends on who,” Minseok replies, reaching out and wrapping a hand around one of Sehun’s wrists. The touch is grounding and entirely overwhelming at the same time. “There is someone, though. I’m just waiting for him to realize it.”
Sehun’s heart leaps into his throat for the second time in as many days.
“But if you know they- why not say something first?” Sehun asks, trying to swallow his hopes down.
“Hmm, why indeed?” Minseok says, pulling away and sitting back, propping himself up with his arms. He stares up at the ceiling, making a considering noise in the back of his throat. “Because... he’s the skittish type. The type to run away to a hiding spot instead of confronting his feelings-” Minseok snaps his fingers “-like a timid cat.”
“A cat?” Sehun can’t help but echo back, indignant at the possibility of being compared to a cat.
“A cat,” Minseok confirms with a grin, all teeth. He drapes himself back across the table, chin resting on his fist. “So?” It’s a simple question, but something about the heavy gaze Minseok has on him and the tone makes it seem posed as a challenge. Like he’s taunting Sehun into spilling everything
Who knows you better than us?
And god, truly there is no one else. Because who else would know that making it a challenge would ignite the fire in his belly, make the words come to him easier when his brain thinks of them as a way to win a competition, imagined as it is.
“Minseok-hyung, tell your friend you can’t date his friend,” Sehun demands, head held high. He feels like he’s going to pass out. “I... I like you. So much. It’s killing me.”
Minseok’s smile curves up in satisfaction.
“Yeah?” He prompts. “I like you too, Sehun-ah. You’re really something else.”
Sehun flushes, unsure what emotion to feel now. He’s cycling so quickly through embarrassment, elation, disbelief and happiness that it’s making him dizzy. Making his eyes burn with the need to cry.
Before he knows it, he’s doing exactly that – hot, burning tears spilling over. Sehun lets out an irritated grumble, pulling his shirt collar up to hide himself behind the fabric as Minseok’s laugh rings in his ears.
“Sehun-ah, I wasn’t trying to make you cry. Come on now, hush, baby,” Minseok says, mirth still in his tone. Sehun can hear him shuffling around the table, hands and knees, to sit next to him. A hand lands on his shoulder blade, rubbing up and down. “Shh, look at hyung?”
Sehun sniffles, rubs at his eyes to wipe away the wetness before he complies with the request. Minseok has such a quiet authority to him that it’s impossible to not listen to him. Sehun lowers his shirt and looks at Minseok as requested; his eyes are kind, gentle. As is his touch when he reaches up to capture Sehun’s chin between thumb and forefinger to hold him in place and keep him from looking away.
“You’re so silly. And dramatic.” Sehun lets out a watery laugh, unable to deny it because he knows he is. “Always so worried.”
“How can I not be?” Sehun asks back, “You’ve only ever shown us tiny, cute girlfriends and I am very much not one of those.”
“You’re not,” Minseok agrees, doesn’t pretend otherwise. He’s still holding Sehun in place, not allowing him to hide away. “But... I didn’t exactly bring every potential partner around, you know. Was that all it was?”
“We already hide so much of ourselves, hyung. I’m not worth ruining a career over.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?” Minseok responds, leaning in even closer. “Why let that stop happiness. That’s a maybe issue for the future, not the now.”
Sehun is unable to respond to that, words failing him. Minseok is so simply blowing through all his worries while still taking him seriously. It all feels a bit like a fever dream, if Sehun is being honest, a dream so much better than his regular nightmares.
He does the only thing he can think of doing. The last test of Minseok’s seriousness about Sehun, about his willingness to do this.
Sehun closes the miniscule gap between them and presses his mouth to Minseok’s, sloppy and enthusiastic with desperation clawing at his chest. If nothing else, if he scares Minseok away, he’ll at least have this one moment to replay for the rest of his life. He plans to take as much as he can in case he never gets to have it again.
Minseok doesn’t recoil. His hand slips around to cup Sehun’s jaw, thumb gently sweeping over his cheek as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He gives as good as he gets, taking control of the situation and easing the worry that has Sehun trembling like a baby bird.
Sehun tastes malt on Minseok’s tongue but more than that he tastes hope.
The golden light of sunrise, filtering in through the windows, makes everything feel like a hazy dream when Sehun awakens. He spends the first couple of minutes just breathing, looking up at the ceiling and working up the courage to turn over. The nebulous mists of sleep that cling to the edges of his consciousness, fogging up his brain, has him doubting himself, worried that he had dreamed the previous day up. Has him thinking that maybe if he looks it’ll just be him beneath the covers.
Minseok is sleeping soundly, still, face smooshed into the pillow and mouth hanging open, when Sehun finally rolls over onto his side. At his throat, Minseok’s necklace catches the soft glow of the morning sun, meticulously cared for gold sparkling bright.
There’s a fragile warmth swelling in Sehun’s chest, a bubble of contentment he wants to stay in forever. He wants to never move from this position, to freeze the moment and stay forever.
Eventually, Minseok stirs, bleary eyes blinking open and immediately seeking Sehun out, smile lighting up when he finds him.
“Ready to go home with me now?”