We Fall Out Of Line [7/7]
i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii.
vii.
Days later, Sehun is in the middle of wrapping up a late afternoon meeting when he’s struck by a piercing headache that instantly makes him clutch his skull and double over in his chair.
What the fuck-Lu Han-hyung-
A low groan of pain rumbles in his throat, tumbling past his mouth, unbidden.
“Oh Sehun-sshi, are you okay?” One of the interns, the last one to step out of the room, eyes him with grave concern.
“Yeah-Yes, I’m fine. You may go,” he manages to croak in response with what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and the poor, confused kid reluctantly leaves.
Hyung, honestly, you’re killing me-
Do you still want Jongin’s number?
Lu Han seems distracted, anxious. Sehun pauses, brows knitting together.
Are you okay, hyung?
Yes or no, Oh Sehun.
Sighing, he reclines in the armchair, cold, dry palms pressing down on tired eyes.
If he wants me to have it why won’t he give it to me himself?
Because he’s a fucking idiot and so are you. Whatever-I’m sending you his number. Do what you want with it. You people are giving me a headache.
WE’re giving you a headache??
Just then, his phone vibrates in his pocket.
Talk to him!
Sehun is convinced that there’s more to it than the telepath is letting on but Lu Han slips away before he can demand answers. Panic surges in his chest fleetingly until he comes to realize that if it were anything serious then Lu Han would have definitely said so. This is what he tells himself as he clocks out earlier than he ever has in the past two weeks, hyperaware of the fact that he has Jongin’s number saved in his contacts now.
Sehun doesn’t phone him. God knows he wants to, but he’s probably not supposed to have his number in the first place.
That same night, for the first time in a while, Sehun gets the exact same vision as he did the last time it came to him in his sleep. He wakes with a start, cold sweat leaving a thin layer of sheen across his temple. He swallows lungfuls of air as he grabs at the sheets, desperate for anything to anchor him while he tries to shake off the remnants of the bad dream.
It takes a few minutes for his pulse to normalize. He flops face-down on the bed once it does. He used to think that being close to Jongin prompts the premonitions somehow. But it’s been weeks since he’s last seen the man, so apparently that’s not it. He laughs wanly into the sheets. He doesn’t even care. If this is going to bother him either way, he’d much rather have Jongin here to cuddle with and lull him back to sleep after the aftershocks wear off. But sadly, that’s not his call to make right now.
Minutes pass and he almost manages to fall back asleep. Just then, through a sleepy haze he picks up on a rapid, momentary deflection; a warp in the usually steady air, and then the cushion next to him takes a sudden dip. Alarmed, Sehun’s head darts up from where his face was smooshed into a pillow. He instantly freezes, blinking several times to make sure he isn’t just seeing things. What he finds is Jongin, sound asleep right next to him.
“What-”
He jerks, startled, and the dancer stirs minutely, though not completely waking. And then he vanishes.
Sehun would chalk that up to hallucination, but then it happens again.
The following night, after peeling off his work clothes and taking a shower, he steps out of his room in a threadbare shirt and faded sweats. With a small towel around his neck, his hair still damp and in disarray, he heads for the fridge to try to find something to eat. Out of God-knows-where, Jongin materializes by the doorstep just as he’s passing by the living room. Sehun abruptly stops in his tracks, completely addled as he holds his breath and gapes.
Jongin is slumped over as he faces the wall, one hand pushing against it while the other holds his back. His white shirt is soaked through, blond hair sticking on the trails of sweat down the side of his face. Breathing heavily through gritted teeth, his expression is contorted in a grimace, eyes tightly shut. He doesn’t seem to realize that he’s teleported.
“Jongin?”
The dancer jumps, spins around, and immediately lets out a painful cry. Sehun is at his side in a blink of an eye.
“Easy, easy-”
He stumbles, teetering forward dangerously and Sehun uses his body to break the fall. Jongin’s forehead lands on his shoulder. He presses a steadying hand against the dancer’s back, gently rubbing a palm over the spot where he knows Jongin is most vulnerable. Jongin grabs his other hand as if on instinct, and at that moment it feels like something just falls into place.
“Where am I?” Jongin asks between labored puffs of breath, his voice strained.
“My apartment?”
He can hear Jongin swallow hard as the grip on his fingers tightens briefly. Sehun’s heart breaks a little knowing that the pain must be unbearable right now.
“What am I doing here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he says. “But let’s get you off your feet first, okay?”
Jongin doesn’t argue. He allows Sehun to slowly steer him toward the bedroom. He gingerly sits on the edge of the bed while Sehun goes to grab a clean towel and clothes fresh from the laundry. They don’t miss a beat; just naturally fall back into old routine again, and something inside Sehun tingles in contentment. Jongin mumbles a quiet thanks as he takes the warm towel to pat his face dry with.
“I’ll be right back.” Sehun can’t help it. He cups Jongin’s cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking soft skin with a feather-light touch. Jongin draws a short breath. Sehun quickly withdraws his hand.
He steps out to get some ice and also to give the other man a moment to change out of his clothes. A cold compress would be ideal but he doesn’t have time to freeze it up. He suddenly wishes Minseok were around, but he knows that it’s not quite closing hours yet. He returns shortly with a glass of water and an ice pack.
“You can stay,” offers Sehun later, with only a little bit of hesitation. The glass of water is completely empty on the bedside table now and Jongin is lying on his stomach on the mattress. “If you want to, I mean,” he quickly appends while carefully steadying the ice pack over the dancer’s lumbar curve.
Jongin doesn’t say anything for a while, but Sehun can feel his gaze hot on his back as he goes to adjust the heater a little lower. He knows that Jongin likes the temperature just cool enough that he can still snugly wrap the blankets around himself without being too warm.
“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch,” Jongin quietly says. That’s not a ‘no’, Sehun reckons. It actually sounds kind of like an indirect ‘yes’ and Sehun’s gut knots.
“That’s fine,” the wind wielder shrugs nonchalantly. “The bed’s big enough for two.” He really only says it to tease the man. But then he distinctly hears Jongin give a grunt of approval and he swears his heart skips a beat. It’s a good thing he has his back turned so that Jongin doesn’t see his mouth curve up at the corners.
Satisfied with the heater settings, he turns around and finds that Jongin is still watching him. There’s a fluttering in his stomach that he always gets every time he catches the dancer’s eyes on him. His heart squeezes in his chest, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed by the desire to come closer and skate his fingers all over Jongin’s skin and kiss him senseless and-
Sehun inhales deeply, diverting his attention to something much safer, like the wide open door.
“Have you had dinner?”
He hears Jongin chuckle lightly from the bed. “Have you?”
Sehun bites back a laugh when it dawns on him that this will probably be how they will always begin.
“I haven’t, actually. I was about to get something to eat when you... showed up.”
The dancer’s lips draw thin as his cheeks color a light tint of pink.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t... I wasn’t... I’m...”
Sehun cuts him off with a shake of his head. “It’s okay,” he says, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed on his chest and a soft smile on his lips.
I’m glad I’m the person you want to come to the most when you’re in pain. Sehun doesn’t actually say it, but the way Jongin fiercely blushes a deeper red and averts his gaze tells him that it probably shows on his face anyway.
Sehun quietly slips back into the room minutes later after he’s had dinner and brushed his teeth. The soft glow of the lamp by the empty side of the bed helps him not stub his toe into anything as he pads across the carpet. The ice pack is sitting beside the empty glass on the table. It’s pretty much useless now that the cubes in it have most likely melted.
Careful not to rouse the man, he arranges the comforter over Jongin’s body before walking around the other side to slip in beside him. He’s just about to switch off the lamp when he hears a low, rough voice quietly mutter his name.
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
Jongin shakes his head. He does look like he’s been awake all this time, though his eyelids are drooping heavily now. He gingerly readjusts himself so that he’s lying on his side, facing Sehun.
“I’m sorry for what I said back then. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Sehun shifts on his side as well. Grudgingly, he scoots back as far as he can to maintain a decent space between them. He doesn’t quite know where exactly his boundaries lie at this point and he doesn’t want to fuck anything up.
“It’s cool.”
Jongin smiles softly, and it makes his eyes glimmer in the muted light. Sehun can’t help but mirror it.
“I guess I should explain this,” Jongin says. “My teleportation has been kind of off recently. I keep flickering in and out without realizing it. At work, too. Like today. Good thing no one else was at the studio with me. It’s driving Lu Han-hyung insane.”
Sehun mouths a quiet, “Oh.” That outburst earlier makes a lot of sense all of a sudden.
“I really shouldn’t get caught again,” Jongin adds quietly, seemingly to himself, but Sehun catches it and his eyes narrow at him curiously.
“Again?”
Flinching, Jongin traps his lower lip between his teeth. There’s a flicker of guilt in his eyes, as if realizing a mistake way too late.
“I guess I never told you I met your aunt?”
Sehun blinks, dumbfounded.
“The night of the accident, I was caught on CCTV teleporting with you in an alley near the hospital,” Jongin reluctantly admits when Sehun just continues to gape at him without a word. “They brought me in for investigation and kept me there for two days. Director Lee cited the CCTV evidence as inconclusive and dropped the case. To be fair, it was a really blurry footage. She could have pursued it, though. I guess she let it slide for your sake.”
Sehun wriggles just a tiny bit closer. His hands are itching to hold Jongin-to comfort him, probably; or maybe to comfort himself. He slides them under the pillow instead to keep them from doing anything he might regret.
“Did she meet with you?”
“Yeah, just before I left,” his forehead creases thoughtfully. “I think she figured out that I’m your... trigger.”
Sehun's throat closes up. It's the first time he’s ever heard Jongin acknowledge it openly like that. He looks mighty uncomfortable having the word on his lips, but not repulsed or terrified.
Baby steps, Sehun reminds himself.
“And?”
Jongin shrugs. “Just thanked me for helping you. Then she warned me that I won’t be so lucky next time so she better not see me there ever again.” He scrunches his nose like he tasted something sour and Sehun has to try not to coo and pinch his face. “It felt like she was judging me to the deepest level of my soul the whole time, to be honest. You’ve got nothing on that woman’s coldness scale.”
Sehun can't hold back an amused snort. “Yeah, that sounds like her," he mumbles, his chest filling up with an emotion that he can't quite pin down. Perhaps gratitude is the closest to it.
He doesn’t realize that he’s grinning until Jongin reaches over to bop him on the nose.
“What are you doing all the way over there?” He rasps playfully, boldly, and there's something in the way the dancer's eyes suddenly comes alive that has Sehun teasing back.
“Dude, if you want me, come and get me.”
Jongin chortles at that and Sehun's heart flutters at the sound. He doesn't move, though; instead, he grabs Sehun around the waist under the covers and tugs. The seer emits a small squeak of surprise at the injured dancer’s strength as he drags across the cotton sheets. This only makes Jongin laugh louder.
“You’ll fall,” he claims, but the way he shies away from Sehun’s gaze suggests that that’s not really why he’s tucking him closely to his side.
“I already did,” Sehun cheekily says, and then cackles when Jongin groans miserably.
“God, you are so lame. Were you always this lame?”
“Shh,” Sehun yawns, curling into Jongin’s chest like a satisfied cat. “You love me.” The words leave his mouth before his brain can catch up. He holds his breath as he mentally berates himself, ears burning hot.
“Hmm,” Jongin hums. Sehun doesn’t know what that means but he doesn’t ask. He won’t rush things this time.
Sehun feels warm lips pressing against the top of his forehead just before he succumbs to sleep.
*
“The teleporter is broken!”
Having seen the extra pair of shoes by the doorway, Sehun isn't even surprised to find Lu Han sprawled on his stomach over the living room rug.
“Calm down, hyung,” he says, patting his landlord’s perky butt as he joins him on the floor. He leans back on the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him.
“Did it happen again today?” he asks, only because it feels like the appropriate follow-up in this particular conversation. But if he’s completely honest, he actually knows the answer to that question.
He tries to keep a straight face as he recalls how utterly confused Jongin looked when he found himself in Sehun’s office, sitting on Sehun’s lap. It lasted only about three seconds, and then he was gone. Immediately after, he sent Jongin a message that said: “I see how it is ;)” and promptly got a “stfu” in reply.
Lu Han crawls backward then sits up, shoulders hunched like they weigh a ton. He’s got a weary dullness in his expression that seems so out of place in his youthful features. He just looks really stressed out. Sehun actually kind of feels genuinely bad seeing him this way.
“He doesn't always disappear completely. Sometimes he just flickers very quickly. Like his signal is bad or something. I don’t think he notices it when it happens. Did you talk him?”
“Yes,” is Sehun’s short answer. Afraid of riling up the other man, he deliberately leaves out the fact that Jongin stayed over a couple of nights ago. And that they message each other every day now. And that Jongin has in fact accidentally appeared in his apartment a few times.
But then again, Lu Han isn’t a telepath for nothing. Sehun begins to fidget uneasily as Lu Han intently searches his face with suspicious eyes narrowed into slits.
“He’s been here.” It doesn’t come out as a question.
Sehun says nothing; though he’s pretty sure that the hint of color blooming hot on his cheeks is incriminating enough.
Lu Han gasps loudly, his big eyes expanding into shiny plates. “I knew it! You son of a-”
His entire face lights up like a flame-in joy or in rage, Sehun can’t quite tell right now-and suddenly he’s up on his feet, tone climbing several octaves. “I thought he was... malfunctioning because he was stressing over your situation, but-oh my God, you two are such idiots!”
Oh, this is definitely rage, Sehun concludes with a small flinch.
As Lu Han proceeds to pace back and forth over the rug, Sehun suddenly feels a hard weight pressing onto his thigh. He’s already smiling before he even looks down. Jongin is still in training clothes but completely dry. He’s probably trying to catch a quick shuteye before leaving the studio for home.
“This is ridiculous! I cannot believe how dumb you both are,” Lu Han rants on, and the dancer’s face scrunches at the noise. Giggling to himself, Sehun gently pokes at Jongin's cheek. When he blinks and sees Sehun looking down at him, he startles a bit, but doesn't panic.
“Why won’t he just move back in here with you then, so that I don’t have to deal with covering his stupid tracks whenever he accidentally teleports because he fucking misses you?! Idiots! I fucking-”
“Ugh,” Jongin grumbles, rolling on to his side. “So loud, hyung.”
Lu Han’s head snaps around so fast he’s lucky he doesn’t get whiplash. Sehun bites the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep his laughter in as the telepath’s jaw drops at the sight of Jongin pillowed on his lap. Lu Han pins them with a murderous glare while Jongin seems like he’s just ready to nap again.
“Idiots!” Lu Han roars, arms flapping about wildly in exasperation.
With a suffering sigh-perhaps figuring that Lu Han’s not about to let him have that nap right now-Jongin begrudgingly sits up next to Sehun, slouching on the floor with his back against the couch.
“You!” The dancer gives a start as Lu Han points an accusing finger at him. “You’re moving back in here, Kim Jongin! I swear-”
“Hyung, will you-”
“Shush! Don’t test me!” He stares them down, as if daring them to object. Sehun purses his lips, pretending to zip them and drop the key. Then he glances over to Jongin who merely blinks slowly, obviously too sleepy to bother with any sort of rebuttal.
Their silence seems to appease Lu Han, thankfully. He storms off huffing, but not before tossing a “prepare to move out tomorrow,” over his shoulder just as he reaches the doorway. He looks like he’s going to slam the door shut; but then he seems to change his mind at the last minute, maybe after remembering that this is his building. Sehun snorts as the door closes with barely any sound. Beside him, Jongin folds his legs up to his chest, sliding down an inch, and tilts his head on Sehun’s shoulder.
“You okay?” Sehun feels more than sees Jongin nod.
“Just tired,” he manages to mumble over a big yawn.
As if on instinct, Sehun reaches over to rub a hand over the dancer’s lower back. The material of his shirt is thin enough for body heat to seep through and wrap around his fingers. Jongin hums appreciatively, scoots closer until they’re hip to hip.
“See, I told you you shouldn’t have unpacked everything,” Sehun jokes, partly to distract from his escalating pulse.
“I didn’t,” Jongin admits and Sehun’s heart skips. He knows that Lu Han isn't kidding about making Jongin move back in, but he also knows that in spite of everything he said, he won't really force the issue if Jongin refuses-which he doesn’t do. And he’s still here. And he didn’t unpack all of his things.
“So,” Sehun begins, suddenly at a loss for words.
“So...?”
He can hear the smile in Jongin's voice.
“Have you had dinner?”
Jongin immediately bursts into laughter, head lolling back blissfully. Then he’s pulling away, but only to climb into Sehun's lap, his knees planted on either side of Sehun’s thighs. He props both hands against the couch above Sehun’s head, trapping him in place. Not that he minds. It’s not like he wants to be anywhere other than right here right now.
Jongin’s eyes lock with his. Suddenly it’s a little bit harder to breathe.
“I’d rather have you, honestly,” he confesses and Sehun swears his heart makes a full stop.
His hands come up to rest just under Jongin’s clavicles, fingers balling into his shirt. There’s something extremely satisfying about the way the dancer’s heartbeat pounds hard and fast against his knuckles.
Sehun catches Jongin’s gaze flick downward to his mouth. He sensually bites his lower lip on purpose and fights back a smirk when it elicits the desired effect. A strangled whimper rumbles in Jongin’s chest as he leans forward, barely close enough to touch. There's a telltale squeak of the faux-leather behind him as Jongin grips it harder, his long, sinewy arms flexing tight from the effort. His dark eyes are half-lidded but clearly uninterested in any sort of nap now.
Sehun’s brow archs, taunting. His fingers unfurl and splay over the dancer’s chest.
“You’d rather have me than sleep?”
Jongin presses his lips together and squints, as if to contemplate this carefully. Sehun’s beginning to consider dumping him on his ass on the floor, but then Jongin smiles and he forgets to breathe again. His eyes are sparkling, open and honest. Sehun marvels at how there’s no struggle, no hesitation there anymore.
“I think I love you a lot more than I love sleep,” he says softly, gently brushing away a few stubborn strands away from Sehun’s eyes.
It feels like fire is surging through his veins instead of blood and Sehun hates, hates the restrictive pressure in his throat and the stinging behind his eyes because he is not going to cry now. He is not. He refuses to. But then Jongin is cupping his face in his warm hands and dropping a kiss on his forehead and he fails to curb a sob because fuck, he is so in love with this man. And he’s waited a long time for them to get to this point. For Jongin to tell him that it’s okay.
“You fucker,” his voice breaks and Jongin, that bastard, actually coos at him. He ducks his head while the lower back of the dancer’s shirt bunches between his clenched fists.
“I love you,” Jongin repeats, wrapping him up in a tight hug, and this time Sehun lets out a soft chuckle.
“More than sleep, yes, I heard you. I am honored,” he deadpans, mock-sulking into the man’s shirt. He smells of dewberry shampoo and fabric conditioner and soap and just Jongin, and Sehun loves how it smells like home.
“You should be,” he asserts, mimicking a cocky tone, and Sehun’s eyes roll.
“Now about me having you for dinner-”
Sehun draws away then, creating just enough space so that he can look at Jongin and allow his hands to skim deliciously slow down the dancer’s chest, across the hard planes of his stomach, through the thin material of his shirt.
“I think that can be arranged,” he smirks suggestively, his voice deep and playful. A soft gasp slips out of Jongin’s lips when Sehun lightly strokes over a pert nipple. And then he's leaning down and something explodes behind Sehun’s eyes.
Jongin kisses him hard and Oh God, he’s missed this so much. Sehun’s back arches off of the cushion, chasing the dancer’s heat until his torso is flush against Jongin’s. He sighs when Jongin licks at edge of his mouth, eager to taste. Sehun parts his lips wider, granting him all the access he wants, while searing palms slide under his shirt, trailing electricity along the jut of his spine. Deft fingers make quick work of his pants before skittering down the backside, finding purchase on the generous curve of his ass. Jongin gives the smooth flesh a squeeze and Sehun breathes out a deep, guttural moan. Jongin’s sweatpants are easier to deal with, thank God, and it’s not long before shirts come flying off, too.
There’s a jolt of something cutting like the crack of a whip under Sehun’s skin; and the next thing he knows there are pillows under his head and a soft mattress on his back. Jongin is on top of him, braced on his elbows, one knee sliding up between his legs.
Sehun grins as he holds Jongin’s shoulders. “Nice landing-oh,” he gasps when he feels the dancer palm the growing bulge through his boxers. His hands come up to tangle fingers in Jongin’s hair, tugging him down for a kiss. But the dancer holds still just mere inches away from the target. He’s breathing hard through his mouth, his dark eyes blown-out, blond hair a complete, agonizingly attractive wreck. Sehun doesn’t hold back the anguished whine that drags out from his throat; doesn’t give a single fuck if he sounds desperate or needy, because right now he really kind of is.
“Easy,” Jongin soothes, but then he readjusts himself by rolling his hips, causing his own erection to push against Sehun’s thigh, and they both let out a groan.
“Fuck, Jongin, just-”
Jongin doesn’t budge. “Wait, hold on,” Sehun stares at him, confused and wondering why he’s even talking right now.
“We’re really doing this,” Jongin mutters breathily. “Are you sure you really want to do this, Sehun?” he asks.
Sehun pauses. He takes in every solemn detail of Jongin’s expression. He can see in the way his mouth trembles, in the way he swallows down his nerves, that he must be feeling so exposed right now. Jongin holds steady despite the desire that’s visibly pulsing in his body, and just watches Sehun’s face. Waiting.
He knows Jongin isn’t talking about sex. He’s talking about everything else. About the rest of their life. Two Red Flag Hybrids. A seer and his target. It’s a disastrous combination, possibly the worst one ever. Sehun doesn’t really need another second to think about it.
“Listen to me,” he says firmly, no false impressions this time. “I love you. So fucking much and all I want is to be with you. That’s it.”
He looks straight at Jongin, cheeks turning a fiery crimson, but he doesn’t falter for a second. Jongin blinks and Sehun can swear he sees a glimmer of moisture along the edges there, but he doesn’t get a chance to tease him about it because Jongin is diving for his mouth. He can maybe do that later. Or tomorrow. They’ve got all the time in the world now.
*
It's during the night before New Year's Eve when Sehun gets a premonition again. It's not much different from the last ones, except it's a little more drawn out and vivid this time.
A lot of white everywhere. White walls. White sheets. He catches the steady hum of machines and beeping sounds in regular intervals. Breathing doesn't come easy despite the thing that’s attached to his nose. Moving is difficult and painful, like every bone in his body is too heavy and too brittle. But the soft glow dancing in the corner of his eye is too inviting. Slowly, his head turns and he sees the most beautiful palette of orange and purple hues splashed across the sky. He almost wants to reach for it but then it seems like his left hand is strapped onto something heavy, rendering it immobile, while his right hand is weighed down by something warm. He tries to wriggle his fingers. The warm weight lightly wriggles back. It takes a lot of effort but he manages to turn his head to the other side.
There’s a man lying beside him. His hair has thinned out so much. Whatever remains of it is silver instead of black. Or blond. His skin is wrinkled, not smooth and supple like it used to be, but still the color of sweet caramel. He looks very different; he himself probably doesn’t look much like he used to. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t recognize that shapely mouth, pulled into a crooked curve. And those eyes. How could he forget those eyes?
The warm hand that’s entwined with his gives a weak squeeze. As though to reassure him that he’s not alone. And that, more than anything else, is what feels like home to him.
Sehun doesn’t wake from this one with a jolt. He does jerk a bit, though, and as he’s currently the little spoon to Jongin’s big spoon, and completely naked at that, the sudden shift unwittingly shakes the dancer awake.
“Hey, you okay?” Jongin slurs, voice thick with sleep.
It takes him a few seconds to respond, but once he’s somewhat contained the deluge of emotions ramming into his chest, he inhales, deep and slow, and turns in Jongin’s arms. It’s weird how coming out from that vision, it feels like he’s seeing his own boyfriend for the first time. It’s strange how he yearns to touch him, to trace the outline of his face with his fingertips. He reaches for the dancer’s hand instead, threading fingers together.
“Yeah, I'm sorry I woke you.”
“Are you sure?” Jongin studies his face. He seems unconvinced even when Sehun nods in reply, but ultimately he decides to let it go.
“Since when were you a light sleeper, anyway? I barely moved.”
“I don't even know. Must’ve been a glitch. Don't get used to it.” He practically yawns that last part out. Soon enough Jongin’s eyelids are fluttering shut again. His shoulders heave as he takes a long inhale through his nose, and then his breathing evens out.
He looks adorable like this, Sehun thinks. He might be a teeny bit biased, but he still thinks Jongin is beautiful. And most certainly sexy as fuck. It hits him suddenly that he’s going to wake up to this every day for a long, long time. Suddenly his heart is overflowing with more affection than it can contain and he just... he needs...
“Hey, Kim Jongin,” Sehun lightly squeezes the dancer’s hand.
“Hm?”
Sehun swallows, words tripping over each other as they race inside his head.
I’m so glad I met you. I hope you know how much you mean to me. I hope I’m making you just as happy as you make me every day. You’re my home.
“I love you,” he says simply, because that’s really what it all boils down to.
Jongin smiles before opening his eyes. In fact, he doesn’t open his eyes until he’s got Sehun pinned under his weight, their lips pressed together.
“I love you, too,” he whispers into Sehun's mouth. “Hey, wait a second.” Jongin is suddenly pushing himself up on his hands, eyes playfully reduced to little suspicious slits. "Are you trying to get into my pants, Oh Sehun?”
Sehun cocks an eyebrow at his stupid boyfriend and drawls, “You have no pants.”
Jongin chortles. “That,” He shifts sharply and the seer grunts when a thigh grazes his half-hard cock. “Is true.”
Jongin props himself on his elbows, amusement and unfathomable adoration dancing in his eyes. He leans down a bit, briefly brushing their noses together. Sehun thinks he really doesn’t mind waking up to this every single day of his life.
“So what do you say?” Jongin wriggles his eyebrows. “You wanna take advantage of that or what?”
It’s about two in the morning and they both have to get up in a few hours, but Sehun laughs gleefully and crashes Jongin’s mouth to his anyway.
fin.
vii.
Days later, Sehun is in the middle of wrapping up a late afternoon meeting when he’s struck by a piercing headache that instantly makes him clutch his skull and double over in his chair.
What the fuck-Lu Han-hyung-
A low groan of pain rumbles in his throat, tumbling past his mouth, unbidden.
“Oh Sehun-sshi, are you okay?” One of the interns, the last one to step out of the room, eyes him with grave concern.
“Yeah-Yes, I’m fine. You may go,” he manages to croak in response with what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and the poor, confused kid reluctantly leaves.
Hyung, honestly, you’re killing me-
Do you still want Jongin’s number?
Lu Han seems distracted, anxious. Sehun pauses, brows knitting together.
Are you okay, hyung?
Yes or no, Oh Sehun.
Sighing, he reclines in the armchair, cold, dry palms pressing down on tired eyes.
If he wants me to have it why won’t he give it to me himself?
Because he’s a fucking idiot and so are you. Whatever-I’m sending you his number. Do what you want with it. You people are giving me a headache.
WE’re giving you a headache??
Just then, his phone vibrates in his pocket.
Talk to him!
Sehun is convinced that there’s more to it than the telepath is letting on but Lu Han slips away before he can demand answers. Panic surges in his chest fleetingly until he comes to realize that if it were anything serious then Lu Han would have definitely said so. This is what he tells himself as he clocks out earlier than he ever has in the past two weeks, hyperaware of the fact that he has Jongin’s number saved in his contacts now.
Sehun doesn’t phone him. God knows he wants to, but he’s probably not supposed to have his number in the first place.
That same night, for the first time in a while, Sehun gets the exact same vision as he did the last time it came to him in his sleep. He wakes with a start, cold sweat leaving a thin layer of sheen across his temple. He swallows lungfuls of air as he grabs at the sheets, desperate for anything to anchor him while he tries to shake off the remnants of the bad dream.
It takes a few minutes for his pulse to normalize. He flops face-down on the bed once it does. He used to think that being close to Jongin prompts the premonitions somehow. But it’s been weeks since he’s last seen the man, so apparently that’s not it. He laughs wanly into the sheets. He doesn’t even care. If this is going to bother him either way, he’d much rather have Jongin here to cuddle with and lull him back to sleep after the aftershocks wear off. But sadly, that’s not his call to make right now.
Minutes pass and he almost manages to fall back asleep. Just then, through a sleepy haze he picks up on a rapid, momentary deflection; a warp in the usually steady air, and then the cushion next to him takes a sudden dip. Alarmed, Sehun’s head darts up from where his face was smooshed into a pillow. He instantly freezes, blinking several times to make sure he isn’t just seeing things. What he finds is Jongin, sound asleep right next to him.
“What-”
He jerks, startled, and the dancer stirs minutely, though not completely waking. And then he vanishes.
Sehun would chalk that up to hallucination, but then it happens again.
The following night, after peeling off his work clothes and taking a shower, he steps out of his room in a threadbare shirt and faded sweats. With a small towel around his neck, his hair still damp and in disarray, he heads for the fridge to try to find something to eat. Out of God-knows-where, Jongin materializes by the doorstep just as he’s passing by the living room. Sehun abruptly stops in his tracks, completely addled as he holds his breath and gapes.
Jongin is slumped over as he faces the wall, one hand pushing against it while the other holds his back. His white shirt is soaked through, blond hair sticking on the trails of sweat down the side of his face. Breathing heavily through gritted teeth, his expression is contorted in a grimace, eyes tightly shut. He doesn’t seem to realize that he’s teleported.
“Jongin?”
The dancer jumps, spins around, and immediately lets out a painful cry. Sehun is at his side in a blink of an eye.
“Easy, easy-”
He stumbles, teetering forward dangerously and Sehun uses his body to break the fall. Jongin’s forehead lands on his shoulder. He presses a steadying hand against the dancer’s back, gently rubbing a palm over the spot where he knows Jongin is most vulnerable. Jongin grabs his other hand as if on instinct, and at that moment it feels like something just falls into place.
“Where am I?” Jongin asks between labored puffs of breath, his voice strained.
“My apartment?”
He can hear Jongin swallow hard as the grip on his fingers tightens briefly. Sehun’s heart breaks a little knowing that the pain must be unbearable right now.
“What am I doing here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he says. “But let’s get you off your feet first, okay?”
Jongin doesn’t argue. He allows Sehun to slowly steer him toward the bedroom. He gingerly sits on the edge of the bed while Sehun goes to grab a clean towel and clothes fresh from the laundry. They don’t miss a beat; just naturally fall back into old routine again, and something inside Sehun tingles in contentment. Jongin mumbles a quiet thanks as he takes the warm towel to pat his face dry with.
“I’ll be right back.” Sehun can’t help it. He cups Jongin’s cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking soft skin with a feather-light touch. Jongin draws a short breath. Sehun quickly withdraws his hand.
He steps out to get some ice and also to give the other man a moment to change out of his clothes. A cold compress would be ideal but he doesn’t have time to freeze it up. He suddenly wishes Minseok were around, but he knows that it’s not quite closing hours yet. He returns shortly with a glass of water and an ice pack.
“You can stay,” offers Sehun later, with only a little bit of hesitation. The glass of water is completely empty on the bedside table now and Jongin is lying on his stomach on the mattress. “If you want to, I mean,” he quickly appends while carefully steadying the ice pack over the dancer’s lumbar curve.
Jongin doesn’t say anything for a while, but Sehun can feel his gaze hot on his back as he goes to adjust the heater a little lower. He knows that Jongin likes the temperature just cool enough that he can still snugly wrap the blankets around himself without being too warm.
“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch,” Jongin quietly says. That’s not a ‘no’, Sehun reckons. It actually sounds kind of like an indirect ‘yes’ and Sehun’s gut knots.
“That’s fine,” the wind wielder shrugs nonchalantly. “The bed’s big enough for two.” He really only says it to tease the man. But then he distinctly hears Jongin give a grunt of approval and he swears his heart skips a beat. It’s a good thing he has his back turned so that Jongin doesn’t see his mouth curve up at the corners.
Satisfied with the heater settings, he turns around and finds that Jongin is still watching him. There’s a fluttering in his stomach that he always gets every time he catches the dancer’s eyes on him. His heart squeezes in his chest, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed by the desire to come closer and skate his fingers all over Jongin’s skin and kiss him senseless and-
Sehun inhales deeply, diverting his attention to something much safer, like the wide open door.
“Have you had dinner?”
He hears Jongin chuckle lightly from the bed. “Have you?”
Sehun bites back a laugh when it dawns on him that this will probably be how they will always begin.
“I haven’t, actually. I was about to get something to eat when you... showed up.”
The dancer’s lips draw thin as his cheeks color a light tint of pink.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t... I wasn’t... I’m...”
Sehun cuts him off with a shake of his head. “It’s okay,” he says, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed on his chest and a soft smile on his lips.
I’m glad I’m the person you want to come to the most when you’re in pain. Sehun doesn’t actually say it, but the way Jongin fiercely blushes a deeper red and averts his gaze tells him that it probably shows on his face anyway.
Sehun quietly slips back into the room minutes later after he’s had dinner and brushed his teeth. The soft glow of the lamp by the empty side of the bed helps him not stub his toe into anything as he pads across the carpet. The ice pack is sitting beside the empty glass on the table. It’s pretty much useless now that the cubes in it have most likely melted.
Careful not to rouse the man, he arranges the comforter over Jongin’s body before walking around the other side to slip in beside him. He’s just about to switch off the lamp when he hears a low, rough voice quietly mutter his name.
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
Jongin shakes his head. He does look like he’s been awake all this time, though his eyelids are drooping heavily now. He gingerly readjusts himself so that he’s lying on his side, facing Sehun.
“I’m sorry for what I said back then. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Sehun shifts on his side as well. Grudgingly, he scoots back as far as he can to maintain a decent space between them. He doesn’t quite know where exactly his boundaries lie at this point and he doesn’t want to fuck anything up.
“It’s cool.”
Jongin smiles softly, and it makes his eyes glimmer in the muted light. Sehun can’t help but mirror it.
“I guess I should explain this,” Jongin says. “My teleportation has been kind of off recently. I keep flickering in and out without realizing it. At work, too. Like today. Good thing no one else was at the studio with me. It’s driving Lu Han-hyung insane.”
Sehun mouths a quiet, “Oh.” That outburst earlier makes a lot of sense all of a sudden.
“I really shouldn’t get caught again,” Jongin adds quietly, seemingly to himself, but Sehun catches it and his eyes narrow at him curiously.
“Again?”
Flinching, Jongin traps his lower lip between his teeth. There’s a flicker of guilt in his eyes, as if realizing a mistake way too late.
“I guess I never told you I met your aunt?”
Sehun blinks, dumbfounded.
“The night of the accident, I was caught on CCTV teleporting with you in an alley near the hospital,” Jongin reluctantly admits when Sehun just continues to gape at him without a word. “They brought me in for investigation and kept me there for two days. Director Lee cited the CCTV evidence as inconclusive and dropped the case. To be fair, it was a really blurry footage. She could have pursued it, though. I guess she let it slide for your sake.”
Sehun wriggles just a tiny bit closer. His hands are itching to hold Jongin-to comfort him, probably; or maybe to comfort himself. He slides them under the pillow instead to keep them from doing anything he might regret.
“Did she meet with you?”
“Yeah, just before I left,” his forehead creases thoughtfully. “I think she figured out that I’m your... trigger.”
Sehun's throat closes up. It's the first time he’s ever heard Jongin acknowledge it openly like that. He looks mighty uncomfortable having the word on his lips, but not repulsed or terrified.
Baby steps, Sehun reminds himself.
“And?”
Jongin shrugs. “Just thanked me for helping you. Then she warned me that I won’t be so lucky next time so she better not see me there ever again.” He scrunches his nose like he tasted something sour and Sehun has to try not to coo and pinch his face. “It felt like she was judging me to the deepest level of my soul the whole time, to be honest. You’ve got nothing on that woman’s coldness scale.”
Sehun can't hold back an amused snort. “Yeah, that sounds like her," he mumbles, his chest filling up with an emotion that he can't quite pin down. Perhaps gratitude is the closest to it.
He doesn’t realize that he’s grinning until Jongin reaches over to bop him on the nose.
“What are you doing all the way over there?” He rasps playfully, boldly, and there's something in the way the dancer's eyes suddenly comes alive that has Sehun teasing back.
“Dude, if you want me, come and get me.”
Jongin chortles at that and Sehun's heart flutters at the sound. He doesn't move, though; instead, he grabs Sehun around the waist under the covers and tugs. The seer emits a small squeak of surprise at the injured dancer’s strength as he drags across the cotton sheets. This only makes Jongin laugh louder.
“You’ll fall,” he claims, but the way he shies away from Sehun’s gaze suggests that that’s not really why he’s tucking him closely to his side.
“I already did,” Sehun cheekily says, and then cackles when Jongin groans miserably.
“God, you are so lame. Were you always this lame?”
“Shh,” Sehun yawns, curling into Jongin’s chest like a satisfied cat. “You love me.” The words leave his mouth before his brain can catch up. He holds his breath as he mentally berates himself, ears burning hot.
“Hmm,” Jongin hums. Sehun doesn’t know what that means but he doesn’t ask. He won’t rush things this time.
Sehun feels warm lips pressing against the top of his forehead just before he succumbs to sleep.
*
“The teleporter is broken!”
Having seen the extra pair of shoes by the doorway, Sehun isn't even surprised to find Lu Han sprawled on his stomach over the living room rug.
“Calm down, hyung,” he says, patting his landlord’s perky butt as he joins him on the floor. He leans back on the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him.
“Did it happen again today?” he asks, only because it feels like the appropriate follow-up in this particular conversation. But if he’s completely honest, he actually knows the answer to that question.
He tries to keep a straight face as he recalls how utterly confused Jongin looked when he found himself in Sehun’s office, sitting on Sehun’s lap. It lasted only about three seconds, and then he was gone. Immediately after, he sent Jongin a message that said: “I see how it is ;)” and promptly got a “stfu” in reply.
Lu Han crawls backward then sits up, shoulders hunched like they weigh a ton. He’s got a weary dullness in his expression that seems so out of place in his youthful features. He just looks really stressed out. Sehun actually kind of feels genuinely bad seeing him this way.
“He doesn't always disappear completely. Sometimes he just flickers very quickly. Like his signal is bad or something. I don’t think he notices it when it happens. Did you talk him?”
“Yes,” is Sehun’s short answer. Afraid of riling up the other man, he deliberately leaves out the fact that Jongin stayed over a couple of nights ago. And that they message each other every day now. And that Jongin has in fact accidentally appeared in his apartment a few times.
But then again, Lu Han isn’t a telepath for nothing. Sehun begins to fidget uneasily as Lu Han intently searches his face with suspicious eyes narrowed into slits.
“He’s been here.” It doesn’t come out as a question.
Sehun says nothing; though he’s pretty sure that the hint of color blooming hot on his cheeks is incriminating enough.
Lu Han gasps loudly, his big eyes expanding into shiny plates. “I knew it! You son of a-”
His entire face lights up like a flame-in joy or in rage, Sehun can’t quite tell right now-and suddenly he’s up on his feet, tone climbing several octaves. “I thought he was... malfunctioning because he was stressing over your situation, but-oh my God, you two are such idiots!”
Oh, this is definitely rage, Sehun concludes with a small flinch.
As Lu Han proceeds to pace back and forth over the rug, Sehun suddenly feels a hard weight pressing onto his thigh. He’s already smiling before he even looks down. Jongin is still in training clothes but completely dry. He’s probably trying to catch a quick shuteye before leaving the studio for home.
“This is ridiculous! I cannot believe how dumb you both are,” Lu Han rants on, and the dancer’s face scrunches at the noise. Giggling to himself, Sehun gently pokes at Jongin's cheek. When he blinks and sees Sehun looking down at him, he startles a bit, but doesn't panic.
“Why won’t he just move back in here with you then, so that I don’t have to deal with covering his stupid tracks whenever he accidentally teleports because he fucking misses you?! Idiots! I fucking-”
“Ugh,” Jongin grumbles, rolling on to his side. “So loud, hyung.”
Lu Han’s head snaps around so fast he’s lucky he doesn’t get whiplash. Sehun bites the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep his laughter in as the telepath’s jaw drops at the sight of Jongin pillowed on his lap. Lu Han pins them with a murderous glare while Jongin seems like he’s just ready to nap again.
“Idiots!” Lu Han roars, arms flapping about wildly in exasperation.
With a suffering sigh-perhaps figuring that Lu Han’s not about to let him have that nap right now-Jongin begrudgingly sits up next to Sehun, slouching on the floor with his back against the couch.
“You!” The dancer gives a start as Lu Han points an accusing finger at him. “You’re moving back in here, Kim Jongin! I swear-”
“Hyung, will you-”
“Shush! Don’t test me!” He stares them down, as if daring them to object. Sehun purses his lips, pretending to zip them and drop the key. Then he glances over to Jongin who merely blinks slowly, obviously too sleepy to bother with any sort of rebuttal.
Their silence seems to appease Lu Han, thankfully. He storms off huffing, but not before tossing a “prepare to move out tomorrow,” over his shoulder just as he reaches the doorway. He looks like he’s going to slam the door shut; but then he seems to change his mind at the last minute, maybe after remembering that this is his building. Sehun snorts as the door closes with barely any sound. Beside him, Jongin folds his legs up to his chest, sliding down an inch, and tilts his head on Sehun’s shoulder.
“You okay?” Sehun feels more than sees Jongin nod.
“Just tired,” he manages to mumble over a big yawn.
As if on instinct, Sehun reaches over to rub a hand over the dancer’s lower back. The material of his shirt is thin enough for body heat to seep through and wrap around his fingers. Jongin hums appreciatively, scoots closer until they’re hip to hip.
“See, I told you you shouldn’t have unpacked everything,” Sehun jokes, partly to distract from his escalating pulse.
“I didn’t,” Jongin admits and Sehun’s heart skips. He knows that Lu Han isn't kidding about making Jongin move back in, but he also knows that in spite of everything he said, he won't really force the issue if Jongin refuses-which he doesn’t do. And he’s still here. And he didn’t unpack all of his things.
“So,” Sehun begins, suddenly at a loss for words.
“So...?”
He can hear the smile in Jongin's voice.
“Have you had dinner?”
Jongin immediately bursts into laughter, head lolling back blissfully. Then he’s pulling away, but only to climb into Sehun's lap, his knees planted on either side of Sehun’s thighs. He props both hands against the couch above Sehun’s head, trapping him in place. Not that he minds. It’s not like he wants to be anywhere other than right here right now.
Jongin’s eyes lock with his. Suddenly it’s a little bit harder to breathe.
“I’d rather have you, honestly,” he confesses and Sehun swears his heart makes a full stop.
His hands come up to rest just under Jongin’s clavicles, fingers balling into his shirt. There’s something extremely satisfying about the way the dancer’s heartbeat pounds hard and fast against his knuckles.
Sehun catches Jongin’s gaze flick downward to his mouth. He sensually bites his lower lip on purpose and fights back a smirk when it elicits the desired effect. A strangled whimper rumbles in Jongin’s chest as he leans forward, barely close enough to touch. There's a telltale squeak of the faux-leather behind him as Jongin grips it harder, his long, sinewy arms flexing tight from the effort. His dark eyes are half-lidded but clearly uninterested in any sort of nap now.
Sehun’s brow archs, taunting. His fingers unfurl and splay over the dancer’s chest.
“You’d rather have me than sleep?”
Jongin presses his lips together and squints, as if to contemplate this carefully. Sehun’s beginning to consider dumping him on his ass on the floor, but then Jongin smiles and he forgets to breathe again. His eyes are sparkling, open and honest. Sehun marvels at how there’s no struggle, no hesitation there anymore.
“I think I love you a lot more than I love sleep,” he says softly, gently brushing away a few stubborn strands away from Sehun’s eyes.
It feels like fire is surging through his veins instead of blood and Sehun hates, hates the restrictive pressure in his throat and the stinging behind his eyes because he is not going to cry now. He is not. He refuses to. But then Jongin is cupping his face in his warm hands and dropping a kiss on his forehead and he fails to curb a sob because fuck, he is so in love with this man. And he’s waited a long time for them to get to this point. For Jongin to tell him that it’s okay.
“You fucker,” his voice breaks and Jongin, that bastard, actually coos at him. He ducks his head while the lower back of the dancer’s shirt bunches between his clenched fists.
“I love you,” Jongin repeats, wrapping him up in a tight hug, and this time Sehun lets out a soft chuckle.
“More than sleep, yes, I heard you. I am honored,” he deadpans, mock-sulking into the man’s shirt. He smells of dewberry shampoo and fabric conditioner and soap and just Jongin, and Sehun loves how it smells like home.
“You should be,” he asserts, mimicking a cocky tone, and Sehun’s eyes roll.
“Now about me having you for dinner-”
Sehun draws away then, creating just enough space so that he can look at Jongin and allow his hands to skim deliciously slow down the dancer’s chest, across the hard planes of his stomach, through the thin material of his shirt.
“I think that can be arranged,” he smirks suggestively, his voice deep and playful. A soft gasp slips out of Jongin’s lips when Sehun lightly strokes over a pert nipple. And then he's leaning down and something explodes behind Sehun’s eyes.
Jongin kisses him hard and Oh God, he’s missed this so much. Sehun’s back arches off of the cushion, chasing the dancer’s heat until his torso is flush against Jongin’s. He sighs when Jongin licks at edge of his mouth, eager to taste. Sehun parts his lips wider, granting him all the access he wants, while searing palms slide under his shirt, trailing electricity along the jut of his spine. Deft fingers make quick work of his pants before skittering down the backside, finding purchase on the generous curve of his ass. Jongin gives the smooth flesh a squeeze and Sehun breathes out a deep, guttural moan. Jongin’s sweatpants are easier to deal with, thank God, and it’s not long before shirts come flying off, too.
There’s a jolt of something cutting like the crack of a whip under Sehun’s skin; and the next thing he knows there are pillows under his head and a soft mattress on his back. Jongin is on top of him, braced on his elbows, one knee sliding up between his legs.
Sehun grins as he holds Jongin’s shoulders. “Nice landing-oh,” he gasps when he feels the dancer palm the growing bulge through his boxers. His hands come up to tangle fingers in Jongin’s hair, tugging him down for a kiss. But the dancer holds still just mere inches away from the target. He’s breathing hard through his mouth, his dark eyes blown-out, blond hair a complete, agonizingly attractive wreck. Sehun doesn’t hold back the anguished whine that drags out from his throat; doesn’t give a single fuck if he sounds desperate or needy, because right now he really kind of is.
“Easy,” Jongin soothes, but then he readjusts himself by rolling his hips, causing his own erection to push against Sehun’s thigh, and they both let out a groan.
“Fuck, Jongin, just-”
Jongin doesn’t budge. “Wait, hold on,” Sehun stares at him, confused and wondering why he’s even talking right now.
“We’re really doing this,” Jongin mutters breathily. “Are you sure you really want to do this, Sehun?” he asks.
Sehun pauses. He takes in every solemn detail of Jongin’s expression. He can see in the way his mouth trembles, in the way he swallows down his nerves, that he must be feeling so exposed right now. Jongin holds steady despite the desire that’s visibly pulsing in his body, and just watches Sehun’s face. Waiting.
He knows Jongin isn’t talking about sex. He’s talking about everything else. About the rest of their life. Two Red Flag Hybrids. A seer and his target. It’s a disastrous combination, possibly the worst one ever. Sehun doesn’t really need another second to think about it.
“Listen to me,” he says firmly, no false impressions this time. “I love you. So fucking much and all I want is to be with you. That’s it.”
He looks straight at Jongin, cheeks turning a fiery crimson, but he doesn’t falter for a second. Jongin blinks and Sehun can swear he sees a glimmer of moisture along the edges there, but he doesn’t get a chance to tease him about it because Jongin is diving for his mouth. He can maybe do that later. Or tomorrow. They’ve got all the time in the world now.
*
It's during the night before New Year's Eve when Sehun gets a premonition again. It's not much different from the last ones, except it's a little more drawn out and vivid this time.
A lot of white everywhere. White walls. White sheets. He catches the steady hum of machines and beeping sounds in regular intervals. Breathing doesn't come easy despite the thing that’s attached to his nose. Moving is difficult and painful, like every bone in his body is too heavy and too brittle. But the soft glow dancing in the corner of his eye is too inviting. Slowly, his head turns and he sees the most beautiful palette of orange and purple hues splashed across the sky. He almost wants to reach for it but then it seems like his left hand is strapped onto something heavy, rendering it immobile, while his right hand is weighed down by something warm. He tries to wriggle his fingers. The warm weight lightly wriggles back. It takes a lot of effort but he manages to turn his head to the other side.
There’s a man lying beside him. His hair has thinned out so much. Whatever remains of it is silver instead of black. Or blond. His skin is wrinkled, not smooth and supple like it used to be, but still the color of sweet caramel. He looks very different; he himself probably doesn’t look much like he used to. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t recognize that shapely mouth, pulled into a crooked curve. And those eyes. How could he forget those eyes?
The warm hand that’s entwined with his gives a weak squeeze. As though to reassure him that he’s not alone. And that, more than anything else, is what feels like home to him.
Sehun doesn’t wake from this one with a jolt. He does jerk a bit, though, and as he’s currently the little spoon to Jongin’s big spoon, and completely naked at that, the sudden shift unwittingly shakes the dancer awake.
“Hey, you okay?” Jongin slurs, voice thick with sleep.
It takes him a few seconds to respond, but once he’s somewhat contained the deluge of emotions ramming into his chest, he inhales, deep and slow, and turns in Jongin’s arms. It’s weird how coming out from that vision, it feels like he’s seeing his own boyfriend for the first time. It’s strange how he yearns to touch him, to trace the outline of his face with his fingertips. He reaches for the dancer’s hand instead, threading fingers together.
“Yeah, I'm sorry I woke you.”
“Are you sure?” Jongin studies his face. He seems unconvinced even when Sehun nods in reply, but ultimately he decides to let it go.
“Since when were you a light sleeper, anyway? I barely moved.”
“I don't even know. Must’ve been a glitch. Don't get used to it.” He practically yawns that last part out. Soon enough Jongin’s eyelids are fluttering shut again. His shoulders heave as he takes a long inhale through his nose, and then his breathing evens out.
He looks adorable like this, Sehun thinks. He might be a teeny bit biased, but he still thinks Jongin is beautiful. And most certainly sexy as fuck. It hits him suddenly that he’s going to wake up to this every day for a long, long time. Suddenly his heart is overflowing with more affection than it can contain and he just... he needs...
“Hey, Kim Jongin,” Sehun lightly squeezes the dancer’s hand.
“Hm?”
Sehun swallows, words tripping over each other as they race inside his head.
I’m so glad I met you. I hope you know how much you mean to me. I hope I’m making you just as happy as you make me every day. You’re my home.
“I love you,” he says simply, because that’s really what it all boils down to.
Jongin smiles before opening his eyes. In fact, he doesn’t open his eyes until he’s got Sehun pinned under his weight, their lips pressed together.
“I love you, too,” he whispers into Sehun's mouth. “Hey, wait a second.” Jongin is suddenly pushing himself up on his hands, eyes playfully reduced to little suspicious slits. "Are you trying to get into my pants, Oh Sehun?”
Sehun cocks an eyebrow at his stupid boyfriend and drawls, “You have no pants.”
Jongin chortles. “That,” He shifts sharply and the seer grunts when a thigh grazes his half-hard cock. “Is true.”
Jongin props himself on his elbows, amusement and unfathomable adoration dancing in his eyes. He leans down a bit, briefly brushing their noses together. Sehun thinks he really doesn’t mind waking up to this every single day of his life.
“So what do you say?” Jongin wriggles his eyebrows. “You wanna take advantage of that or what?”
It’s about two in the morning and they both have to get up in a few hours, but Sehun laughs gleefully and crashes Jongin’s mouth to his anyway.
fin.