Let Me Tell You About Silence (3/3)
One
Two
*
“So, you’re sure you’re going to be able to pull this off?” Sehun asks as they stand in front of the rather imposing building where Junmyeon and Kyungsoo had agreed to meet them for lunch.
“Pssh. Yes.” Jongin sniffs, though Sehun notices that he takes an oh-so-subtle step closer to Sehun’s side. “It’ll be fine.”
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Sehun smirks. “Because you’re really an awful liar, do you remember that time we got really drunk and you called up Krystal and recited the entirety of ‘She Walks in Beauty’ and then when she confronted you the next day at school you didn’t even defend yourself, you just ran to the bathroom and hid for the next two periods and lunch?”
“I’m going to be okay, okay!” Jongin shrieks, stiffening and clenching his hands into fists as a few passersby turn to stare. And think rather unkind thoughts about his mental state, Sehun realizes with a snort. Jongin turns to glare at him, and Sehun smiles broadly back.
“Shall we?” Sehun asks pompously, stepping forward and holding out a hand for Jongin to take. Jongin gives him a disgruntled look before slapping away Sehun’s hand and climbing the stairs himself.
Junmyeon’s waiting for them right by the entrance, and with him is the man Sehun knows is Kyungsoo, since he perfectly matches the face Jongin’s spent a lot of time thinking about recently. Luckily for Kyungsoo, his first thought upon seeing them is how nice Jongin looks, so Sehun decides he likes him.
“Sehun! Jongin!” Junmyeon says happily, waving to them like the annoying parent that he becomes whenever they’re around.
“Myeonnie!” Jongin squeals, and Sehun rolls his eyes good-naturedly because Jongin loves being babied. But then Jongin remembers exactly who’s standing next to Junmyeon and stops in his tracks, instead ducking slightly behind Sehun’s shoulder. Wimp. “Hello, Kyungsoo.”
“It’s good to see you again, Jongin,” Kyungsoo smiles, holding out a hand for Sehun to shake. Sehun takes it, mumbling his name since he knows Kyungsoo isn’t really listening. He’s too busy thinking about how Jongin doesn’t look like the typical college kid looking for a business internship.
“Sehun is a writer,” Jongin says proudly, and Sehun hides his small smile behind a punch to Jongin’s shoulder.
“Oh?” Kyungsoo asks, interested. “What have you written? Anything I’d recognize?”
“Well, I haven’t quite made it to the big leagues yet,” Sehun laughs, glad that at least Kyungsoo doesn’t seem disdainful of him. More intrigued. And mostly because Sehun is Jongin’s friend, so that’s a good sign. “No bestseller lists yet for me. But one day I’ll be there.”
“I love talking to people who are passionate about their dreams,” Kyungsoo sighs, giving Junmyeon a look. “They’re always so interesting.”
“What!” Junmyeon exclaims, narrowing his eyes comically. “Am I not interesting enough for you?”
“The most thrilling part of the day today was when you spent an hour describing how you’ve developed the perfect coffee order,” Kyungsoo says flatly, as Jongin bursts into a fit of giggles that he quickly tries to silence because, hey, giggles are embarrassing.
“It was a long and involved process!” Junmyeon retorts as a waitress leads them over to their table, handing each of them a menu before turning and walking away. Sehun resolves to tip her extra. She thinks his hair looks nice.
“So, what are you thinking about ordering?” Jongin asks nervously from across the table, eyes flicking up from his menu to stare at Kyungsoo. Sehun smirks. Kyungsoo and Jongin are perfect for each other. They might actually be able to have a relationship where they never meet each other’s eyes ever.
“Ah, the fish, probably,” Kyungsoo replies, hands clutching his menu like it’s a life preserver. “Omega-3 fatty acids and all that. Good for you.”
“Oh, sure!” Jongin replies happily, though Sehun knows for a fact Jongin loathes the words “good for you,” especially in regards to food. “What kind of fish is it, does it say?”
“The kind that always sounds a little flat,” Kyungsoo deadpans, and Sehun just barely manages to prevent himself from bursting out laughing. Junmyeon gives him a strange look, but Sehun ignores him.
“So, tuna?” Jongin asks vaguely before stopping short. He turns to look at Kyungsoo, a wide, wondering smile spreading across his face. “Oh my god, you know that joke too?”
“That’s one of Jongin’s favorites,” Sehun confides to Junmyeon as Jongin and Kyungsoo erupt into gales of laughter at the other end of the table.
“I don’t get it,” Junmyeon huffs, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Flat? Tuna? What?”
“You know,” Sehun says encouragingly. “What do you do with a flat fish? Tuna fish!”
“The funniest part in,” Kyungsoo butts in, wiping tears from his eyes as Jongin continues cackling. “The fish on the menu isn’t even tuna! It’s mahi-mahi!”
“Still confused,” Junmyeon sighs, and Sehun reaches across the table to pat him condescendingly on the shoulder.
“I told you that you should have taken up the clarinet in high school,” Sehun laughs before turning back to his own menu. “Then you’d get these jokes.”
“So, you want to try to explain to me what it is you do?” Sehun hears Jongin ask, as Kyungsoo finally starts to quiet.
“Well, I thought you would have a general idea,” Kyungsoo says before suddenly pausing and giving Jongin a sly smile. Sehun hides his smirk behind a sip of water. He likes this guy. “Or you would...unless you really aren’t interested in getting a job here.”
“Um. Actually, I dance?” Jongin offers, running a hand sheepishly through his hair as he waits for Kyungsoo’s sarcastic comment. It doesn’t come.
“Whoa, really?” Kyungsoo asks excitedly, as Sehun rolls his eyes. Junmyeon shoots him another disapproving glance that Sehun ignores. “What kind of dance?”
“Well, I used to be really into ballet,” Jongin practically squeals, excited to meet someone who doesn’t dismiss his job out of hand. “But now I do more contemporary. You know, trying to get in as a back-up dancer for some pop star and work my way up from there.”
“That sounds amazing!” Kyungsoo exclaims, just as Junmyeon turns to Sehun and asks pointedly, “So, Sehun, how is the job hunt going?”
“What are you talking about?” Sehun mumbles, trying his hardest to ignore Junmyeon and focus on Kyungsoo, who’s currently blushing in a way Jongin finds sickeningly adorable, and talking about the time he tried out to become an idol singer. It doesn’t work. Even Junmyeon’s thoughts are annoying.
“I’m talking about how you can’t work in a bookstore for the rest of your life,” Junmyeon says pointedly, Sehun barely stopping himself from mockingly mouthing the end of the sentence along with him. Whenever he’s around Junmyeon he forgets he’s not a kid anymore and can’t get away with all the shit little kids get away with.
“I’m doing just fine at that bookstore, thank you very much,” Sehun says, taking another angry sip from his glass of water and nearly spilling it all over himself. “Just because you think I’m not ‘living up to my full potential’ doesn’t mean I care what you think.”
“I’m just saying,” Junmyeon sighs, in that long-suffering voice he always used to use when Sehun didn’t turn in his homework or threatened to run away from Junmyeon’s house to go find his parents and demand that they care about him. Sehun hates that voice. “I know you want to write. Fine. But at least get a respectable job during the day so that I won’t constantly be worrying about you having enough money for food or rent, for goodness’ sakes! You’d still be able to write at night!”
“Since when was working in a fucking bookstore not respectable?” Sehun spits, grinning roughly when Junmyeon flinches. He’s never liked swearing.
“Look, customer service of any kind isn’t really where you want to be spending the rest of your life,” Junmyeon continues, in that typical calm, condescending way he’s always done, making Sehun feel simultaneously like a rebellious child and like a terrible friend. “But I’m mostly just worried about your future.”
“Yeah, except it’s my future, so get the hell out of my business!” Sehun practically shouts, fists clenching under the table because he knows how much Junmyeon cares about him, he knows what a good friend Junmyeon is. But sometimes being around him just makes Sehun so angry because Junmyeon shouldn’t have to worry about him, it should be Sehun’s parents who want to make sure he gets enough food, can pay the rent, follow his dreams. But they’ve never been there. Sehun’s never been able to count on anyone.
It takes Sehun a few moments to realize that Jongin and Kyungsoo are both staring at him, along with everyone at the surrounding tables. If Sehun were an adult, if he were as mature as Junmyeon wants him to be, he would smile and apologize for disturbing their meal, turn the conversation at the table back to more palatable matters. But sometimes Sehun wants to be a child, wants someone to care about him enough to deal with his tantrums. And so instead he stands abruptly, shoves his chair back, and stalks out of the restaurant, leaving a stunned silence behind him.
He decides not to take the bus back to their apartment-it’s not that far and Sehun’s angry enough to not want to be around so many other people in an enclosed space. The errant thoughts of random passersby are already enough to make him feel even more frustrated. He had thought all of this would end when he turned 18, dropped out of school, started doing what he wanted to do. He thought the resentment towards everyone who ignored him, everyone who hurt him, everyone who tried to help him when he just wanted to be left alone-he thought all that would go away.
But it hadn’t, of course it hadn’t, and now Sehun is just a bitter little boy pretending to be a writer, pretending to be a friend, pretending to be a lover. Although, Sehun thinks sarcastically, maybe he’s faked his way through life because of a noble desire to write great literature. Who was it that said that? “As long as he was living his life, he could not write about it.” Something like that. Sehun wonders if any of the people passing by have heard that quote before. If any of them have anything useful in their heads besides petty arguments and shopping lists, repetitive worries and weight-loss tips.
“In the movies, being able to read people’s minds is always so useful and exciting,” Sehun grumbles to himself as he stalks up the stairs of their apartment building. “But in real life, it’s the worst. You never get any alone time, and everyone’s thoughts are stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…”
Punctuating each step with another “stupid,” Sehun doesn’t look up until he nearly collides with someone stepping into the stairwell on the same floor Sehun is stepping off.
“Whoa, sorry!” the person says, just as Sehun feels a wave a silence wash over him. Normally, he loves that feeling. But today it feels like an affront, it feels like Luhan having power over him, and Sehun hates feeling powerless.
But suddenly Sehun realizes that everything might be fixed by telling Luhan about what Sehun can do. Yes. That makes perfect sense. Because if Luhan knows then he’ll be pleased that Sehun confided in him. And once he realizes how much Sehun trusts him, he’ll realize that Sehun needs him, needs Luhan to remind him that he can live a cliche, follow his dreams. It will remind Sehun that he is mature enough to be in relationship, he can handle this, he can handle anything, and Junmyeon and anyone else who wants to tell him differently can just fuck off.
“Oh, hi!” Luhan laughs in surprise as Sehun wraps his hand around Luhan’s upper arm, dragging him back into the hallway leading to Sehun’s apartment. “I came here looking for you but you weren’t home so-”
“Well, I’m home now!” Sehun practically yells, voice comically loud as he fumbles with his key, never letting go of his iron grip on Luhan’s arm.
“Sehun, that kind of hurts,” Luhan points out as Sehun finally gets the door open and starts yanking Luhan inside.
“Right! Sorry!” Sehun gasps, suddenly feeling extremely dizzy. He would really like to sit down. Luckily, Luhan seems to recognize Sehun’s distress and quickly grabs his hand and leads him over to the couch.
“Are you all right?” Luhan asks worriedly, trying to look into Sehun’s eyes. Sehun turns his head away. Childish. You’re just a child. This time the thoughts might be in Junmyeon’s voice but they’re all Sehun’s. Only Sehun’s.
“Luhan,” Sehun barks, voice rougher than he’d intended it to be. Maybe he’s coming down with something. “I have something to tell you. Something important.”
“Look, are you sure you’re all right?” Luhan repeats, eyes scanning along Sehun’s body as if trying to see past his clothing to the wounds he might be hiding beneath them. If only his injuries ran skin-deep, Sehun thinks wryly.
“Luhan,” Sehun murmurs, softer this time, head still spinning horribly for reasons he can’t quite understand. “Luhan, I can hear people’s thoughts.”
“God, Sehun, don’t joke like that!” Luhan laughs in relief, and Sehun feels his stomach plummet down into his toes. “I thought there was something really wrong with you.”
“I’m serious,” Sehun insists, narrowing his eyes and staring hard at Luhan as if that will convince him of Sehun’s sanity. “I know what people are thinking.”
“But that’s-you can’t actually-” Luhan starts, only to slowly lose track of his words as he takes in the way Sehun’s eyes are shining. “Oh my god, you’re not kidding.”
“No,” Sehun whispers, suddenly feeling terribly ashamed. Not of what he can do-he can’t control that-but for thinking this would help anything. For thinking that Luhan would want to know about this now, when he should have known earlier, when Sehun should have trusted him because this is Luhan and Luhan always knows what to say, what to do.
“Wait,” Luhan says slowly, mouth pulling downwards into a frown as he stares at Sehun in confusion. “So you’re telling me that you can read people’s minds?”
“I guess that’s one way to put it?” Sehun sighs, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s not like I control it. Everyone’s thoughts just kind of…fall into my brain. Even if I don’t want them there. Because I really don’t. It gives me terrible headaches and some people are just gross or awful and I don’t want them in my head but I can’t stop it-”
“Wait, so all this time,” Luhan says a bit too loudly, cutting across Sehun’s babbling. “You knew exactly what I was thinking. You knew what I was going to say before I said it. You knew exactly how I felt about every gift you gave me, every time we…and you never said…”
“No!” Sehun gasps quickly, seeing the hurt and distrust glistening in Luhan’s eyes. “That’s just it! You’re the one person whose thoughts I can’t hear. More than that, actually, when I’m around you everyone else’s thoughts fade away too. It’s amazing, I’ve never met anyone who made me feel like this, who…who let me be alone in my own head.”
“I make the voices go away?” Luhan asks, and now he seems more curious than angry so Sehun decides to take that as a sign he’s on the right track.
“Yes! And you don’t know how crazy that feels, it’s just so calm and peaceful. I thought I would have to spend the rest of my life feeling like I was insane but then I met you and…well. You make it normal. You make me normal.”
“Normal,” Luhan says dryly, and when Sehun tries to meet his eyes Luhan drops his head to glare at his hands folded in his lap.
“It’s a good thing, really,” Sehun insists, moving forward-to do what, he doesn’t know. He just knows that he wants to show Luhan how special he is, show him how important everything he’s done has been. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, is to be normal. And you help me write, after being with you I just have so many thoughts and ideas and I-”
“I knew there had to be a reason,” Luhan says suddenly, and Sehun stops short, eyes widening at the harshness of Luhan’s voice.
“What-what are you talking about?” Sehun asks hesitantly, and when Luhan finally lifts his head to meet his eyes Sehun has a terrible urge to look away. Luhan’s eyes are so wide, and so empty, and Sehun doesn’t understand why, doesn’t understand how to make Luhan see how essential he is to Sehun’s life.
“People like you don’t fall for people like me,” Luhan spits, and Sehun flinches involuntarily. “You’re an artist, Sehun. You work in a fucking bookstore and you have all these big dreams and all these beautiful words inside of you. I feel so stupid.”
“No, Luhan, you don’t understand,” Sehun starts, clenching his fists in frustration, but Luhan just raises his voice until he’s practically shouting.
“Oh, I don’t understand? I don’t understand? First of all, you waited how many months to tell me that you’re some sort of fucking magician? And then you tell me that I make you feel ‘normal.’ That I’m some sort of fucking muse for you. Of course that would be it!”
“Luhan, what are you talking about?” Sehun growls, and the words are harsher than he meant them, grating painfully in his throat as Luhan glares at him with those eyes. Sehun thinks he can feel his heart breaking and it hurts.
“How hard was it?” Luhan whispers, and the words burn like acid. “How hard was it for you to pretend to care about me, to pretend to love me? Oh my god, how could I not have seen it? All those times when I told you I loved you…and you were just using me.”
“That’s not why I didn’t say it back, Luhan,” Sehun shouts angrily. “I did love you. I do love you. See? I fucking said it. Are you happy now?”
“Forget it,” Luhan snarls, springing up off the couch. “Find someone else to make you feel normal, Oh Sehun. I don’t know what kind of games you’ve been playing, but I’m done, okay? It’s over.”
“Luhan!” Sehun shouts furiously, but there’s only the sound of the front door slamming shut and before Sehun can stop himself he’s falling, knees colliding with the cold floorboards as he sinks to the ground, cradling his head in his hands. Angry tears are threatening to spill over onto his cheeks but Sehun rubs his eyes roughly, forcing them away. He’s supposed to be stronger than this. He’s always been stronger than this.
He’s still sitting there, huddled on the floor, when Jongin gets home an hour later.
“Are…are you all right?” Jongin asks worriedly, padding over to Sehun and resting a warm hand on his shoulder.
Sehun doesn’t answer, not even letting himself relax into the touch because he’s just now realizing how weak he’s gotten, how much he’s let himself depend on Luhan, depend on Jongin, and now everything is just too loud and too much and he wishes the couple living downstairs would stop fighting but mostly he wishes Luhan would come back.
“You told him, didn’t you,” Jongin says quietly, and Sehun jerks upright in surprise, only to see Jongin staring at him with tired eyes. Sehun hates that he can see pity reflected in them. He doesn’t want Jongin’s pity.
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Sehun says, dragging himself to his feet and wincing as his muscles cramp and complain.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jongin calls helplessly after him as Sehun stalks unsteadily down the hallway towards the bathroom. Sehun doesn’t bother dignifying that with a response.
When he gets into the bathroom, he leans heavily against the sink and stares hard at himself in the mirror. It’s the same face he’s used to seeing. The same eyes, the same lips, the same hair he should probably start thinking about re-dying. But now all he can do is search his features for any sign of the person Luhan had described. Someone who uses people.
And maybe Sehun is selfish, but he’s had to be. He’s never been able to count on anyone but himself, never wanted to count on anyone but himself. Yet suddenly he wants to run all the way to Luhan’s apartment, fall on his knees and tell him he loves him, scream it from the rooftops, shout it a hundred times to make up for all the times he never said it. He wants to hold Luhan close and kiss him until neither of them can breathe and tell him over and over again that Sehun loves him, not just the fact that Luhan can take away the noise, that it’s not about what Luhan can give him, not anymore. Now it’s about who Luhan is.
“Pathetic,” Sehun mutters to himself before turning on the sink and splashing endless handfuls of water over his face. He wonders if it’s possible to drown yourself with only a small sink and an ocean of memories.
*
“Dude,” Chanyeol says, as Sehun angrily tosses another box of stupid romance novels down onto the counter and starts vindictively shelving them. “Calm down. No one’s gonna want to buy them if they’re ripped and scraped.”
“Fuck off, Chanyeol, I’m not hurting them,” Sehun spits, but the words-like everything else these days-just reminds him of Luhan. He’s not hurting the books. He never meant to hurt the books. Sure, maybe he started off not thinking about whether the books would get hurt or not but eventually he really started to care about the books, love the books, and-
“Look, do you want to talk?” Chanyeol asks darkly, grabbing Sehun’s arm and spinning him around so they’re looking at each other. “We’re all worried about you. You went from up-and-coming author with a steady day job, awesome co-workers, a loyal sidekick, and a ridiculously hot boyfriend to…this.”
Chanyeol gestures helplessly to the dark rings under Sehun’s eyes, the wrinkles in his only-sort-of-clean shirt, the ink stains on his fingers from last night when he tried to write but just ended up accidentally snapping the pen in half in frustration, dark liquid spilling across the blank moonlit paper. Sehun rolls his eyes in an effort to hold back angry tears because he’s not the crying type, and tries to turn around and go back to shelving. Once again, however, Chanyeol stops him, because he’s an idiot and doesn’t realize when people are two seconds away from trying to strangle him.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sehun growls, ignoring the way he’s drawing the attention of his three co-workers. Shit, even Jongdae is worried about him. Maybe he really has let things get a little bad. “I’m…I’m figuring it out, okay? Just. I don’t want to talk about it. Yet.“
“If you’re sure,” Chanyeol says slowly, staring into Sehun’s eyes as he tries to look for any sign of what he’s thinking. Sehun has to hold back a dry sob at the thought. If only it were as easy for everyone else as it is for Sehun. If only it were as easy with Luhan as it is with everyone else.
“I’m sure,” Sehun says firmly, voice steadier this time, and when he turns back to the novels Chanyeol lets him go.
“Well, just let me know if you ever do want to talk,” Chanyeol says softly as he turns to wander down an adjoining aisle.
“Will do,” Sehun assures him, though he keeps his gaze fixed on the books in front of him. “And have fun on your date tonight. If you want to bring a gift, I’d recommend a bottle of hard liquor, Baekhyun’s just run out.”
His friendly suggestion is met with the sound of Chanyeol stuttering and gasping like a dying fish, quickly followed by a bellowed, “He told you about that?!” and then heavy footsteps as Chanyeol storms off to go find Baekhyun and demand to know when he became such good friends with Oh fucking Sehun, didn’t he realize how nervous Chanyeol was about this whole being-gay thing? Sehun supposes he should feel a little bad about being the cause of their first fight. But if he’s going to be miserable, damn if he’s not going to try to make everyone else a little more miserable too. Besides, once they figure out that neither of them told him about the date, they’ll probably just be really confused so it won’t even be a real fight.
“Yixing,” Sehun says tiredly as Yixing appears at the end of the aisle. “I’ve already got it covered. I’ll go rearrange the fiction section as soon as I finish here, okay?”
“I was going to ask-oh,” Yixing says, closing his mouth and narrowing his eyes at Sehun. “I was going to ask you to do that. Why are you being so helpful?”
“Just having a good day, I guess,” Sehun mutters sarcastically, but Yixing grins and nods approvingly.
“All right, then,” he says cheerily, closing the distance between them so he can clap Sehun on the shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better! You were getting to be kind of a downer, customers had been complaining and everything.”
“Oh, really,” Sehun mutters slowly, shooting Yixing a glare that he seems totally oblivious to. “Well, I’ll try to be happier then. For the customers. Also, Jongdae just finished filling your stapler with peanut butter.”
“Are you fucking-I’m going to murder him!” Yixing yells, jerking away from Sehun and flying down the aisle towards his office at the back of the store. Three down, one to go, Sehun thinks bitterly.
“Well, aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine,” Jongdae observes, mere moments later, as he wanders over to where Sehun is still shelving sappy novels and leans nonchalantly against the bookshelf. “Who told you about the peanut butter?”
“Does it matter?” Sehun sniffs. “You really should look into getting a grip and quitting the stupid pranks before Yixing fires you.”
“Nah, he’s not going to fire me,” Jongdae laughs, waving a hand as if to dispel the ridiculous idea. “Sales have gone up 5% since I started working here. Must be my natural charms.”
Sehun snorts derisively, but that just seems to amuse Jongdae even more.
“If I were you,” he says nonchalantly. “I’d be looking out more for myself. Don’t think we haven’t noticed how every single customer who tries to ask you something ends up with one of your trademark blank stares. Now what kind of look is that for someone working in retail?”
“Shut up,” Sehun grumbles, shelving as quickly as possible now so he can get away from Jongdae and his scarily accurate thoughts. “It’s not my fault.”
“That’s true, I guess you should blame your parents for that face,” Jongdae snorts, and Sehun spares a few seconds to glare at him. “But I’m serious. Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Luhan, but obviously you really care about him. So go talk to him. See if you can work it out. It’s better than you spending all your time scaring old ladies.”
“Jongdae!” Yixing yells from the end of the aisle, and they both jump. Sehun smirks, glad that at least now Jongdae will have to leave to get yelled at and he’ll stop giving Sehun useless advice.
“What now?” Jongdae drawls, crossing his arms lazily against his chest.
“You’re going to remember next time, right?” Yixing says sternly. “Almond butter, I specifically said almond butter, not peanut butter. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, excuse me for getting the wrong fucking butter,” Jongdae sniffs before slinking around the corner and out of sight.
“That boy, will he never learn?” Yixing sighs, running a hand through his already-messy hair.
“Wait,” Sehun says, bemused look spreading across his face. “You wanted him to put peanut butter in your stapler?”
“Almond butter!” Yixing huffs, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “But yeah, of course! It’s great for dipping bread and celery in, while still looking professional.”
“I don’t-” Sehun breaks off, narrowly keeping himself from dissolving into slightly hysterical laughter, but luckily Yixing is already wandering away, off to go find out where Baekhyun and Chanyeol have gotten to. And then Sehun actually does start laughing because oh, god, how could he not have realized that getting Chanyeol mad would just end up with the two of them making out in the storage closet?
Damn, Baekhyun has nice hands.
Horrified, Sehun decides to abandon the remaining novels and makes a break for the door, hoping to put as much space between himself and his two amorous co-workers as possible. It’s only when he’s out the door, and has space in his head for something other than almond butter, Chanyeol’s low moans, and Baekhyun’s soft mouth, that he realizes he has no idea where he’s going. Flopping down onto a nearby bench, he pulls out his cell phone and stares blankly at the screen. He could call Jongin. But Jongin’s probably still at practice for that showcase and what would he say anyway? Help, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with this guy but I accidentally did now what? Jongin would probably just say something stupid about listening to his heart. He’s been absolutely sappy and disgusting ever since Kyungsoo asked him out on a real date.
Sehun’s still staring at his phone when, like it’s the one thing that can read his mind, it starts to ring. He doesn’t answer, lets it ring and ring until finally the noise cuts off and the device sits still and silent in his palm. But Luhan leaves a voicemail.
Sehun stares at the little notification, daring himself to listen to it, daring himself not to listen to it. He was strong enough not to answer the phone! Why would he suddenly give in and listen to the voicemail? He’s been doing so well-okay, maybe not well but just fine, thank you-without Luhan. There’s really no reason he should try to make something work that obviously was never meant to work. Sehun was just never meant to work with anyone. Not his parents, not his friends, not Luhan. He doesn’t even know why he bothers trying.
“I don’t know if you’re even going to listen to this,” Luhan says, and his voice is strangely gravelly, slightly hoarse. “But if you do, I could really use a ride.”
*
It’s late, sun already slinking behind skyscrapers and high-rises, when Sehun pulls into a sketchy-looking alley, wondering if he should be worried about getting mugged. Sure, he wouldn’t be caught by surprise, but having advance warning would be useless if he was boxed in with nowhere to go.
He drives slowly forward, eyes scanning the filthy sidewalk for any signs of life-any sign of Luhan-but everything is just grey and blank, tattered newspapers fluttering dully in a damp breeze as empty soda cans clatter against overflowing trash cans. City, noun.
But then a spot of color spills across his field of vision, and he’s seen Luhan wear that shirt before but it was in a lot better shape, so he instantly slams his foot on the brake. It’s like time slows down, like the air turns to glue, as a wave of cool emptiness washes over Sehun at the same time his heart starts thrumming like it’s trying to beat its way out of his chest. He practically throws himself out of the car, not even bothering to close the door behind him, and he feels an odd rush of gratitude that Luhan’s already on the ground because he feels so lightheaded he doesn’t think he’d be able to catch him if he fell.
“Hey,” Luhan laughs when he sees Sehun towering over him, mouth tightening as he tries to keep words from spilling out-red words, purple words, blue and black, everything echoed by the colors stamped across Luhan’s skin. Sehun feels sick.
“What happened?” he manages to growl, and now he feels a bit better, mind clearing the longer he stands next to Luhan, leaving him with the energy to help Luhan to his feet and down the alley towards the car.
“I ran into some old friends who weren’t happy to see me,” Luhan says with a wry grin that makes a cut on his lip split open again, crimson trickle of blood down his chin the brightest thing in the alleyway besides Luhan’s eyes.
“Fuck, Luhan, stop lying to me,” Sehun spits, though inside he’s aching. “Most people don’t just get beat up by old friends in random alleyways.”
“Guess I’m not most people, then,” Luhan replies, hissing in pain when Sehun presses a bit too angrily on the accelerator and the car jumps forward unsteadily. “But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
“Don’t make me regret doing this,” Sehun sighs, resisting the urge to turn and glare at Luhan. He settles for observing whatever he can out of the corner of his eye. Luhan just looks pensive, eyes fixed on the horizon, occasionally flicking downwards to examine a particularly nasty bruise blossoming across his pale skin. “Hopefully the people at the hospital don’t ask too many questions.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Luhan babbles, suddenly reaching up and grabbing at Sehun’s arm, fingers clenching tight enough to bruise. “You’re not taking me to the hospital.”
“But look at you!” Sehun practically yells, the strangeness of the situation, the pain of seeing Luhan hurt, the pain of seeing Luhan at all, spontaneously bursting inside of him. “You’re a fucking wreck! You’ve probably got all sorts of internal bleeding and who knows what else!”
“Please,” is all Luhan says, relaxing his grip on Sehun’s arm but not relaxing his heavy gaze fixed on Sehun’s face.
Sehun tries to argue with himself. He tries to weigh the options-doing what Luhan says or doing what should be done. In the end, it’s not much of a contest. This is why people like Sehun shouldn’t be allowed to fall in love. It just ends in all sorts of bad decisions.
“Fine,” he grunts, swinging the wheel angrily to the right and narrowly stamping down a vengeful smirk when Luhan yelps. “But the second we get home you’re telling me exactly what happened. Exactly what happened.”
*
Luhan doesn’t tell him exactly what happened.
Instead, he falls uneasily into unconsciousness in the car, and Sehun is forced to half-drag, half-carry him up the stairs, trying his hardest not to look at the way Luhan’s loose shirt starts to slip off his shoulder, exposing his pale collarbone. He know he’s not allowed to look anymore. And besides, the bruises splattered across the skin are more worrying.
“Come on, Luhan, wake up,” Sehun grunts, heaving Luhan into a chair and rushing into the kitchen to get some water. He’s seen people like this before-hell, he’s been in this same situation before, just with Jongin being the one fussing, fetching water, muttering angrily, and Sehun dripping blood across the table.
“Whoa,” Luhan mutters, lifting his head and hissing when Sehun presses a damp towel to a cut on his forehead. “How did you get me up here?”
“How do you think?” Sehun grumbles, dipping the towel back in his bowl of water and sponging along Luhan’s cheeks, his chin, his lips.
“You’re strong,” Luhan giggles, and Sehun tries to hide the way he flinches at the sound. But Luhan must notice because his mouth twists into a pout, crimson dribbling out of his split lip. “What did I do?”
“Just. Stay still,” Sehun says, wondering why the hell he’s doing this when Luhan walked out on him, Luhan said they were over. Maybe Sehun’s more of an idiot than he thought. Maybe being alone with his thoughts isn’t that great of a thing after all.
“You know...why you can’t take me to...the hospital...yet? Don’t you?” Luhan huffs, stopping after every few words to suck in a rattling breath that to Sehun sounds extremely painful.
“Yeah,” Sehun admits, sitting down in the chair opposite Luhan and helping Luhan get his shirt over his head so Sehun can inspect the damage. He doesn’t look too bad-some terrifyingly enormous bruises, and that rattling sound when he breathes can’t be good-but Sehun knows enough to know that nothing’s broken beyond repair. “Because if I did, the next stop for you would probably be jail.”
“You’re such a cliche,” Luhan says with a hiccuping laugh. “The starving artist, addicted to drugs and bad relationships.”
“Do I look like I’m starving to you?” Sehun snorts, running a hand through Luhan’s hair and sighing with relief when it comes back clean. “And I’m not an addict. I don’t think you are either.”
“I was,” Luhan laughs again, harsher this time, and Sehun can’t stop surprise from splaying across his face. Luhan’s always been able to surprise him. He’s really the only one who can. “But apparently right after I got clean my old dealer got busted. So they thought I had something to do with it. Hence…this…”
“You just said ‘hence,’” Sehun observes, though inside he’s reeling. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
“Maybe I’ve just spent too much time around you,” Luhan replies blandly, catching Sehun’s hand as it tries to mop up some of the nastier-looking scrapes, and lacing their fingers together.
“Look, Luhan,” Sehun starts to say, head bowed as he clenches his warm fingers tightly around Luhan’s cold ones. “I never meant-I never wanted-to hurt you. Okay, so maybe I didn’t love you, not when this first started, but I love you now-isn’t that enough? Can I please be enough for somebody for once in my life? Just me?”
Sehun doesn’t realize he’s crying until Luhan gives him a strange look, reaching forward to swipe a finger under Sehun’s eye, and it comes back wet.
“You’ve always been enough,” Luhan whispers softly. “Always. I just could never be enough for you.”
“Luhan-” Sehun starts to protest before he suddenly stops short, remembering. “Wait. Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.”
When Sehun returns he’s clutching a piece of paper that’s been sitting in his desk since the first day he met Luhan. It still smells faintly of coffee, of uncertainty.
“I. This is. Um.” Sehun mumbles, before flopping back down in his chair and staring down at the paper in his hands. “I want to read this to you.”
“So read,” Luhan replies, and when he smiles Sehun can’t help but think that he just looks so fucking perfect, like a story come to life. All moonlight and pale skin and weak smiles and everything is just so broken but at the same time everything is finally becoming whole.
“They say never to fall in love with a poet,” Sehun reads, though he has the words memorized, has spoken them softly into the quiet night air so many times he knows the exact weight of each one in his mouth.
They’re simply using you, they say, for your soul, for the substance that makes up the core of your being-at least, the core that you let them, the poet, see.
They’re simply using you for your body, for the words patterned on your skin, the syllables swept into the curve of your arm or the strands of your hair, the vivid imagery that slides down your spine when you stretch, muscles shifting against the fabric of your shirt.
As Sehun reads he can feel Luhan watching him, can feel the pressure of his eyes on Sehun’s face. But Sehun doesn’t stop because his mind is completely blank, save for the words scrawled across the paper, and there’s something intoxicating about that. There’s something intoxicating about Luhan, sitting there, wanting Sehun, and not caring that he’s not perfect, that he’s actually pretty messed up. Knowing all that and still deciding to stay. To listen.
I have to say, I have an addendum to this colloquial warning against those who love words more than they could ever love something as tangible, as commonplace, as love.
Never let a poet fall in love with you.
It doesn’t matter if you love them, doesn’t matter if you want them to just say hello to you when you pass in the street or you want them to sit with you for hours, draped in sunlight, laughing at the sky and the birds and everything lucky enough to be alive in this tiny crystal-ball universe.
Because a poet will always want to write about you.
Sehun has always wanted to write about Luhan. At first, he thought Luhan just made him want to write-helped him empty his mind so it could be refilled with bursts of language, gushes of delicate butterfly phrasing. But he’s realized that everything he’s written, everything he will ever write-it will all lead back to Luhan.
They’ll want to write about the way you smile, and the way your laugh reminds them of sunshine, and the way you slipped into their life, sneakily rearranging their insides before they had time to twist around and catch you at it.
They’ll want to write about you even when you’re far away, when you don’t even realize that they still love you, perhaps even that they ever loved you to begin with.
So be careful.
A poet will twist your passion into a garland of letters, swirl your indifference into whirlpools of sorrowful prose, pour their heartbreak out onto a page in fat, dripping letters. They’ll try to pen your heart into a metaphor.
It’s dangerous to let a poet fall in love with you.
Unless you like that kind of thing.
“You don’t look dangerous to me,” Luhan smiles, reaching up and curling his fingers around Sehun’s wrist.
“Like you would know,” Sehun sniffs, but he moves his hand so their fingers are intertwined. Now Luhan’s hands are warm too.
“And besides,” Luhan breathes, eyes shining, and Sehun thinks he is beauty, personified. “I’ve always liked that sort of thing.”
Sehun starts to answer when he suddenly realizes that he can hear a single soft voice breaking through the ocean of silence surrounding him. He listens as hard as he can, straining to hear the words being whispered gentle, sweet, like a lighthouse beaming its yellow glow out into the dark sea. The voice wavers, then fades, but Sehun doesn’t mind.
“Sehun?” Luhan says a bit weakly, as if in shock. “Did you just say something? I thought I heard something, I-”
Sehun just smiles.
Love. Noun.
<3