wip dump [2/5]

[hoaegi]

one /

5.
whitewashed
kai/sehun
PG-13
Every guardian angel has a mortal they’re assigned to. They complete the mission, and come home showered in praise and trophies that nobody forgets. Oh Sehun wakes up with his mortal alright, only without his memories. (guardian angel!au)

The sky today is a bright hue of blue, with streaks of random clouds scattered carelessly in the otherwise clear sky, and a long, dull rainbow hangs listlessly just before the horizon. Sehun kicks at the ground before hopping off the steps to the garden - they call this the cloud garden, because the ground isn’t exactly ground, but patches and mounds of soft clouds. They feel like cotton and marshmallow and they slip between toes softly, tickling feet in the process, and if you jump hard enough you’ll maybe spring back up. There are cracks between the translucent clouds, of course, and if you try to squint you can see fragments and blur mixes of the earth. The thing about this is that they never fall. They stand on clouds, and they breathe in the scent of heaven, and there are thousands of miles of air separating the sky and the earth, and it would be so easy to free-fall from here, but they don’t. They can’t.

Sehun has always imagined life away from heaven. Life on earth. Life not as an angel, but life as a mortal, as a human. The clouds wrap themselves around Sehun’s legs like vines and it’s as if they can feel what Sehun’s thinking. Don’t go, they say, you can’t. Shrugging the wisps of air away from his feet, he hops up from his spot on the ground and trudges to the hall slowly.

The area around the great hall is usually quiet and serene because barely anyone ever comes here, unless there’s an assembly or there are events going on up here. Today, however, is quite a special day. Sehun walks tiredly towards the huge wooden doors of the hall and swings it open. The hall is already almost half-full - the air charged with anticipation and buzz with excited angels and other angels just like him: nervous, anxious, how are we going to fare? Wings flap noisily as chatter continue and Sehun watches as large white wings extend before shrinking back into the backs of the angels.

“Hey.”

Sehun turns around, and the corner of his lips turns up a little as he acknowledges his mentor. “Hey yourself, Junmyeon-hyung.”

There’s a soft sigh before Junmyeon claps his hand on Sehun’s back happily, passing him a cup of drink from the table beside. “You’ll do fine,” he chirps, “you’ll get into any and every field and course you want to.”

“I really hope so,” Sehun mumbles back, and the sharp echo of the microphone testing cuts through their conversation, and Sehun is shuffled to his seat at the front of the hall, with his nametag pinned crookedly on the left side of his freshly ironed top.

There are already students with dazzling grins and equally dazzling grades, back in their seats, crying in joy as the other angels congratulate each other in hushed tones. Names are still being called out, and Sehun feels his mind reeling more with each passing name. Minseok, one of Sehun’s fellow classmates in astronomy, hops off the stage with a dejected frown as he plops back quietly in his seat. Sehun files a mental note to go over to cheer him up later. What if they put Sehun last because he failed or something? What if he doesn’t pass the requirement for any course? What if he gets stuck here as a failed angel, forever? What if -

“Oh Sehun.”

His heart thumping noisily, Sehun runs up the flight of stairs up to the stage and barely manages to avoid tripping over his own shoelaces. The headmaster passes him his certificate in an envelope with a grin, yet wordlessly, shakes his hand and Sehun almost misses the last step as he hops down the stairs. With shaking hands, Sehun carefully tears the top of the envelope open, and the laminated certificate slides out effortlessly. His heart finally calms down as he sees the grades he’d expected, and he shoots a grateful grin to Junmyeon, who’s seated at the back.

After the ceremony, the headmaster officially ends the event before everybody rushes to the tables filled with food and drinks, and the hall is once again filled with excited chatter and muffled cheers. Sehun grabs a cup of fruit punch and settles at a corner of the cloud garden, and he smiles at his certificate slowly.

“Have you decided where you’ll be going?” Junmyeon asks with worried eyes, a stick of roasted marshmallows in his left hand.

“I could control the weathers, I could control the stars, I could arrange fate, and I could rearrange the structure of earth, too. But I don’t like any of that, hyung, what do I do?” Sehun’s fingers run through the soft texture of the clouds he’s currently sitting on, and he yanks out a clump before blowing it away to the night sky. The stars are twinkling from a distance, just like the mysterious glint in Junmyeon’s eyes, and Sehun hears the loud cheers from the food hall as he closes his eyes with a quiet sigh.

“Do you want to come with me?” Junmyeon asks suddenly, and Sehun opens his eyes and sits up.

“What?”

“Well, if you don’t manage to make up your mind…” Junmyeon chews on his marshmallow thoughtfully, and then purses his lips. “I guess you still don’t know what I do, huh? All I ever did was to help you with your subjects. Before I was assigned to you as a mentor, I was one of the seniors of the guardian angels. You know what we do, don’t you?”

“You… guard people?”

“We get missions.” There’s a quick moment of silence as Junmyeon looks far out into the sky, then he smiles wanly. “We get sent to protect individuals. We’re given a name, and the mission is just to make sure they’re kept safe. We do anything in our abilities to fulfill that. There are additional missions for some people who are more capable - although… although there are some failures, and some mishaps… I guess this is what we’re all about, huh? Life and death matters? We get some and we lose some.”

Sehun turns to his side to look at Junmyeon, who’s staring out into the infinitely dark night. He involuntarily wonders what he had meant by his words, but Junmyeon plucks the last marshmallow from the stick and raises an eyebrow at Sehun. “So?” He says.

Sighing, Sehun lies back down on the clouds and blinks tiredly. “I guess we can try? I mean, I don’t know what I want, and I’d pretty much want to follow you more than anything else.”

(“Remember, you have a mark on your left arm. It’s drawn on by chalk, but it won’t be able to be removed if you know who you are. Worst case scenarios are that you lose fragments of your memories because of the rapid shift of time and climate, and you don’t remember your purpose down there. This mark represents our connection. With it, we’ll always know where you are.”

“Please stay focused on your mission and do not be distracted by anything else. Avoid cultivating emotions and feelings towards your mortal, especially feelings of admiration and love, because they don’t live forever, we do. You’ll have to deal with the pain of the separation forever, not them.”

“Your assigned mortal is Kim Jongin, Oh Sehun, please remember this name.”

“And remember; please don’t give your identity away to the best of your abilities. We’re not going down to flaunt the fact that we’re immortal. Don’t let your mortal discover who you are, or he or she will be forced to have their memories removed. That will count as a mission failed too, unless you have a special case.”

Sehun tunes out somewhere after there, and begins to think about other things instead. After the seniors finish briefing Sehun on the mission, with the guidelines and rules, Sehun feels like a newborn bird on its first hunt; like a newborn turtle on its way back into the ocean to find its mother. “Will I be able to do it?” Sehun asks into the skies softly, and Junmyeon steps beside him.

“Yes,” Junmyeon replies, and Sehun grins because Junmyeon always hears him. The bell from the great hall chimes in low tones and that means it’s time for departure. Junmyeon pulls Sehun up from his sitting spot and ruffles his hair with a small smile.

Sehun had half-expected to be sent down to Earth, Earth, for god’s sake, in a grand and extravagant manner, maybe in a teleporting capsule, maybe in a traveling pod, but he never expected to be led by Junmyeon’s warm hand to the all-too familiar cloud garden.

“Here?” Sehun manages, and Junmyeon nods with a small smile.

“Unexpected, huh, when I first got my mission, I expected something cooler than this too.” Junmyeon closes his eyes and smiles at the memories.

Sehun curls his toes around the clouds and feels nervous on these springy clouds for the first time in his life. “How do you guys do this? They didn’t mention it in the briefing,” He asks, tentative, as his toes curl more instinctively in the soft coils of clouds. His palms feel a little too clammy for comfort as he lifts his head to look at Junmyeon for an answer.

Junmyeon closes his eyes and smiles up at the sky. Sehun attempts to do the same, but the frown on his forehead doesn’t go at all. “Just relax,” Junmyeon whispers, “and take a deep breath. Imagine yourself falling all the way down, and don’t hold on to the clouds. Let yourself fall down. Are you ready?”

Sehun nods before inhales deeply, and the fruity scent of peach from Junmyeon’s hair, probably, barely gets registered before he entirely lets go of the clouds between his toes and imagines himself falling - falling through the thin layer of clouds below his feet - and he feels himself falling already, fast gusts of wind racing past him and his fluttering clothes as his hair gets tousled by the winds. It feels a little like being burned, and he feels his wings fall off him as he flies, feather by feather.

Kim Jongin is easily the epitome of the typical teenager somewhere out there in the city. He hangs out with his friends after dreary schooldays, sleeps in until it’s half past 3 on weekends, and rushes through his textbooks for topics he’s never paid attention to, just two weeks before the paper. He has many things to worry about and look forward to: college applications, his parents coming over to visit (which also means extra allowance), the party down the street organized by this senior, and if his best friend, Lu Han, will drop by later to bring him lunch.

When the sounds of cars and trucks passing by his house get too loud, Jongin tosses and turns in his blankets before he sticks his fingers into his ears to block the noises out. It fails, and he sits up with a loud growl.

Kim Jongin also has several things he could expect. He could expect a letter in his mailbox, telling him his application for the art college scholarship had been approved; he could expect Lu Han’s impatient hands pounding on the door harshly as he tries to get the door open with the lazily hidden key under the flowerpot; he could half-expect the birds outside to take a dump on the chairs on the balcony and result in him cursing while scrubbing bird shit off his favorite wooden chairs in the night. What he doesn’t expect, though, is a boy dressed in white, in a clean, white t-shirt and white long pants of the same shade, sitting on the floor bed with his back leaning against the bed, his eyes closed and mouth opened in slumber.

“What the fuck,” Jongin breathes, and rubs his eyes in an attempt to see the boy clearly. He’s still there. Jongin pinches his cheek, and it hurts. He quietly moves to the boy and eyes him from head to toe warily. The boy looks his age - almost, but why is he in Jongin’s house, and why is he sleeping in Jongin’s room? Jongin taps the boy’s shoulder softly, a little afraid, and the sleeping boy’s eyelids flutter open in a swift motion.

The first thing Jongin notices about the weird boy is that his eye color is weird. He looks Korean alright, but the color of his irises is a weird azure mixed with warm hues of hazel and they swirl together pleasantly. There’s a soft trace of sadness and something entirely mysterious in those pretty colors of his eyes and it takes a moment for Jongin to finally recover and look away from them. The boy, though, reaches for his back as if on instinct and blinks when he realizes Jongin staring.

“Who are you?” Jongin asks, and the boy bites down on his bottom lip.

“My name is Sehun,” He replies, voice soft and a little squeaky and his lisp shows when he says his name.

“And what are you doing in my house?”

Sehun looks genuinely perplexed at that, eyebrows furrowed softly as he looks at the wooden tiles of Jongin’s bedroom floor and his bright, blue eyes mirror the confusion in Jongin’s eyes as he looks back up after moments. “I don’t know,” he answers, still frowning.

Jongin sighs and plops down on the floor beside Sehun. “How did you get in if you didn’t know? Are you a burglar? Are you playing games with me before you kill me?” He asks, and his eyes widen at the last word.

Looking over wearily, Sehun shakes his head and slumps forward to the ground with his legs still crossed. He sighs, and when Jongin looks over, he sees red stains on the white shirt Sehun’s wearing, and hisses. “You’re bleeding!” Jongin exclaims, and Sehun sits up, startled.

“Where?” Sehun says, and Jongin points at his back.

“Alright, don’t move, you’re bleeding. I’ll go get the first-aid kit, I guess. Don’t move, and just sit on the bed and wait for me,” Jongin warns, and dashes to the bathroom beside the cabinet in his room.

Sehun numbly moves to the white bed and sits down on the edge as Jongin rummages through the bathroom. He returns soon, with a white box (but the plastic layer at the edges is peeling off and the box is already turning yellow) and sits beside Sehun quietly. Sehun tries to take the box from Jongin’s hands but Jongin slaps them away and turns Sehun’s body so that he’s facing Sehun’s back. With the alcohol swabs in his left hand, Jongin slowly pulls up the thin shirt and holds it in a bunch near the back of Sehun’s neck.

“It’s going to hurt,” Jongin whispers, “um, bite on the pillow if you want to scream or anything. The neighbors will complain if you’re too loud.”

Jongin winces at the two deep gashes stained with half-dried blood before swiping the cold swabs over one of them. Sehun immediately grabs a pillow with shaky hands and lets out a loud yelp into it as Jongin cleans the first cut gingerly. When Jongin tears the second packet of the swabs open, he notices Sehun wheezing and panting but not saying anything and he frowns. “My name is Jongin, by the way,” Jongin says as he does the same to the second wound. “These cuts look deep,” he continues, and stuffs all the blood-stained cotton swabs into a plastic bag before tossing it into the small bin beside his bedside table.

“Do you know where those cuts came from?” Jongin asks hopefully, but Sehun shakes his head with those sad blue eyes and Jongin doesn’t want to probe any further. “Um, you can take a rest here if you want to, I’ll just be… outside,” Jongin mutters, and scratches the back of his head because he doesn’t know if this is how you should treat a complete stranger who appears in your house, by your bed in the morning.

“No,” Sehun says, and it’s barely above a whisper. “Please stay here with me, I’m scared,” he continues, and Jongin gulps.

“Okay.” Jongin pulls up the blankets for Sehun and leans his back against the headboard as he watches Sehun drift off to sleep.

There’s a soft click of the door as Jongin realizes with a start that he’s supposed to be expecting Lu Han (and his lunch), and he looks at the sleeping Sehun with an uncomfortable lump in his throat.

“Jongin!” Lu Han shouts from the living room, and the bedroom door swings open. Lu Han’s expression changes from exuberant to mortified in a split second, and Jongin wonders how was that even possible.

Calmly, Lu Han gulps. “There’s a guy sleeping on your bed.”

Jongin nods.

“Am I supposed to take it that way? Or do you have an explanation?” Lu Han quips, a box of frozen pancakes in his hands as he stares at Sehun with large eyes.

“He just appeared in my room, I saw him here when I woke up,” Jongin tries, “he doesn’t even seem to remember anything about himself. Hyung, help me.”

When Sehun wakes up, he sits up and the first thing that he smells is the sweet smell of maple syrup, followed quickly by pancakes and the bitter smell of the alcohol lingering in the bedroom. He scrunches his nose up at the odd mix and still aware of the ache on his back, he swings the door open to a boy with soft, round eyes and blond hair. “Hi, I’m Lu Han,” he chirps as he sets the plates of instant pancakes down. “You must be Sehun!”

And Sehun quickly wonders how he knows that. Jongin shoots him a guilty glance and it clicks.

“Is it true that you don’t remember anything about yourself?” Lu Han asks as he pours a generous amount of maple syrup on his pancakes. Sehun’s eyes follow the trail greedily.

When Lu Han looks at him and blinks, Sehun realizes he’s been spacing out. “I don’t even know why I’m here,” he mutters, staring at his plate bitterly.

Jongin and Lu Han share a look before Lu Han turns back to Sehun. “I don’t know if we can believe you, too. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, since this isn’t my house…”

“What the hell-”

“…if you ever end up killing Jongin or something, remember my name is not Lu Han. What do you say, Jongin?”

Sehun looks at Jongin curiously before Jongin fidgets and cuts his pancake weakly. “Okay, I guess, until you get your memories back. But you’ll have to… take care of my house. You know, do the laundry, scrub the floors, cook-”

“Okay,” Sehun quickly agrees with a small smile. “I have no other option, do I?”

Sehun had offered to sleep on the couch, he really did. But Lu Han had hushed him with a bright smile and slid Jongin’s card out from his wallet before closing the door gently behind him. “We’ll get you a mattress so you can sleep comfortably, at least!” he’d said, dragging Sehun to the nearby mall.

So this is how Sehun finds himself in the bedroom section of a furniture store, swinging his legs back and forth as he watches Lu Han fuss over the different kinds of mattresses in front with a little smile. Lu Han points at one excitedly and beckons Sehun over with his hand and Sehun hops off the display bed before walking over. “This is really good!” He chirps as he plops down on the display set, “It’s so soft!”

And they buy it. With Jongin’s card. Sehun thinks Lu Han hasn’t moved a single facial muscle worrying about that.

They carry the mattress back home and set it down in Jongin’s bedroom, right beside Jongin’s bed, and plop down on the couch panting. “Oh god,” Lu Han wheezes as he places Jongin’s card on the coffee table carelessly, “I’m never doing that again. Never.”

“Oh my god, did you guys pay with my card?” Jongin asks, his sleepy voice cracking at the end.

“Oh my god, Jongin, it’s only a mattress. I’ll pay you back or something. Or Sehun can work it off for you,” Lu Han replies.

Jongin mumbles something unintelligible and sits down on the couch beside Sehun. The little couch is a little too cozy for comfort with three people and Lu Han squirms. “I think you need a new couch, too.”

When Jongin switches the lights off with a small click, Sehun sighs into his pillow. He can hear Jongin shift in his sheets and he drifts off to sleep slowly.

Sehun doesn’t recall how he knows, but he thinks he’s never dreamt before, because this feels so new. He’s standing in mid-air - is he? He’s surrounded by blue skies and white clouds and the peaceful chirping of bluebirds and the ground feels so light and surreal and he looks down. He’s standing on clouds! Sehun exhales with a smile, and takes a tentative step. The layer of clouds don’t break apart from the force, yet support his movements as he continues walking, listening to the soft singing from the birds.

And then the clouds recoil like they’re burnt from Sehun’s feet and he falls - it’s a long journey, and he feels like he’ll never land. The shocked birds cry out in surprise when Sehun whizzes past them and when he does land - it’s a familiar room painted in blue -

With a loud gasp, Sehun sits up from his mattress and wipes the sweat gathering at his temples. Jongin stirs a little bit, but rolls back to slumber in moments. He pulls the blanket away with shaky hands and stares at his feet. Clouds? He imagines clouds pooled at his feet, at his ankles, tickling the bottom of his feet.

That’s weird, Sehun thinks, as he falls back asleep.

Sehun wakes up to Jongin busying himself in the bathroom. He pads to the door slowly and tilts his head in question when Jongin yanks the dark blue necktie up. “I’m late for school,” he laments, and combs his hair one more time before flicking the light switch off.

“School?” Sehun asks.

“Yeah, unlike a certain someone, I have to go to school. Food is on the table, eat whenever you’re hungry. I have to run,” Jongin rushes.

(The first time that Jongin brings Sehun out is the first time Jongin realizes (or, acknowledges) that Sehun is indeed amazing. Sehun’s blue eyes twinkle under the moonlight and under the dim orange light from the streetlights, and although Jongin had said that they’re going out to enjoy the night view, he finds himself enjoying the sparkle in Sehun’s eyes every time he sees something he likes.

“Oh, you can’t see stars very well in Incheon,” Sehun complains when they rest on a stone bench in an empty playground, and Jongin only chuckles.

“You can, actually,” Jongin whispers, “just squint. They’re there. Try harder, Sehun-sshi.”

Sehun clicks his tongue in annoyance, but he actually does squint, his mouth hanging open in concentration as he fixes his gaze on the night sky. Jongin tries to look away but it fails. “Oh, I see them,” Sehun says excitedly, hands grabbing onto Jongin’s as he points at the sky. “Look! There’s… the Orion belt,” he breathes happily, and Jongin stares at him incredulously.

“The Orion belt? Seriously? How did you know that?”

Sehun looks puzzled, and his brows furrow in that cute way before Jongin tilts his head in question. “I don’t know. I just know. Stop asking! The stars are so pretty, look at them!” Sehun gushes instead. “Regulus! Look at it!”

Instead of the stars, Jongin settles for the bright glint in Sehun’s eyes.)

(The dried up scabs on Sehun’s back are a horrifying shade of crimson and Jongin faintly wonders how long it’d take for it to completely heal. And there are two wounds, too. Was Sehun on the run from bad people? Did he get cut on his back on his way? How did he lose his memories, then?

“A penny for your thoughts,” Sehun mumbles as he tosses a bag of marshmallows in Jongin’s lap.

“Hey,” Jongin whines as he eyes the packet with narrowed eyes, “we need to save these for the movie nights.”

Sehun merely eyes him with bored eyes and tears the plastic packaging open, before tossing one marshmallow into his mouth. He closes his eyes and hums happily as the candy melts slowly in his mouth. “We can always buy more,” Sehun insists.

“With my money.”

“I don’t have money.” Sehun smiles and bats his eyelashes, reaching over to pick one marshmallow from Jongin’s bag.

“I hate you,” Jongin grumbles.

Sehun hums as he grabs the remote on the coffee table.)

(Before they fall asleep, with Sehun staring at the blue ceiling feeling lost and Jongin lying on his sides staring at Jongin, Jongin begins to get curious. This mysterious boy who just appeared without prior notice… or any knowledge about himself… “Hey, Sehun,” Jongin starts, and he thinks his breath catches in his throat when Sehun tears his eyes away from the ceiling to look at Jongin.

“You say you don’t remember how you ended up here, but you’re always so smart. Don’t you go to school or something? Won’t your school be looking for you?”

School, Sehun thinks, and in his head he sees a majestic white building with grand, polished brown roofs the color of earth and the air smells like freshly pressed sheets and tangerine and something else that makes the odd mix smell impeccably right. All around the building are clouds and patches of blue sky and it feels so right and so home Sehun thinks he’s missing something - he gasps, and Jongin looks at him in concern. Sehun desperately tries to hold on to the piece of information (or memory?) and tries to expand the thought but he fails and it slips out of his mind the way it came in.

Sehun’s head throbs and aches with the loss and he quickly rubs his temples with his fingers, willing the pain away. Jongin only watches on quietly, hesitating before placing his hand on Sehun’s back reassuringly.)

(Jongin doesn’t think he’d even wake up at 3AM on any other normal nights, but the space next to him is oddly cold and he doesn’t think he’s felt this cold in months. “Sehun?” He says on instinct, and slips his slippers on before padding to the bathroom sleepily.

“Hi,” Sehun replies softly, the toothbrush lazily held in his mouth. There’s a short moment of silence as Jongin watches Sehun brush his teeth from the mirror quietly, and when he rubs at his eyes, he can see wings on Sehun’s back. Jongin isn’t sure if it’s the trick of the light, but the wings are fluttering and translucent and definitely attached to Sehun’s back. When he rubs his eyes again, though, they’re gone. Chuckling, Jongin moves to the bed and plops down with a muffled whine.

“Why are you laughing? Are you laughing at me?” Sehun asks, after he rinses his mouth with the turquoise-colored mouthwash Jongin had bought the other day, and Jongin hums happily.

“I think I’m just too sleep-deprived,” Jongin explains, pulling the gray blankets over himself, “I saw large wings on your back, and you looked like a real angel - you could definitely pull it off as one and I’d buy it if I didn’t know,” he says happily, but he hears the clatter of the toothbrush against the basin and Jongin pulls his blankets off and rushes to the bathroom. Sehun looks unbelievably pale - his lips drained of color and his eyes wide.

Sehun clutches his hands on Jongin’s arms, and attempts to smile. “Go back to sleep, Jongin, I’m fine. My tummy just hurts - maybe I need to shit. Maybe. Go back to sleep, I’ll be there soon.”

When Sehun hears Jongin snoring lightly, he stands in front of the mirror and finally takes a look at himself properly - and feels his memories flood back into his brain in a quick, painful rush. Sehun is not just Oh Sehun, but he’s also an angel, and he’s Kim Jongin’s guardian angel. He quickly pulls up his sleeve to check if the mark is still on his arm, but obviously, it’s washed away by the days and months of mortal soap. All because he doesn’t remember.

Angel, Sehun thinks, and in his head he sees the first day he remembered he existed, his hands pale and dazzling and a little magical, and various faces he’s grown up together with; also the first time he failed his basic duty test. He sees Junmyeon’s smiling face, bright, soft and a little angelic as he brings Sehun to the cloud garden for the first time. The clouds curl around his feet like soft vines and it feels so right, like where he belongs. Sehun remembers a piece of bright blue sky with nothing but the dim sun hanging on the horizon, thick layers of clouds obscuring the view, and other angels flying in and out of the gates. They have wings, and -

Sehun opens his eyes with a shaky gasp as he reaches for his back with trembling hands. It feels insane, but he feels his own wings outstretching from his back, a satisfying and familiar ache resonating in his body as they expand to take almost the entirety of the bathroom.

The reflection in the mirror is unbelievable: Sehun has his eyes wide open, a little obscured by his strawberry blond bangs as his hands grip tightly on the edge of the basin, and he has a magnificent pair of white wings behind him. How the hell did he forget everything? How did the connection go haywire? How long has it been; it’s been months, is Junmyeon worried that Sehun is gone, just like the rest of the people he’d lost? How -

“How the fuck,” Jongin breathes, and it’s exactly what’s in Sehun’s mind. Sehun turns around hastily to see Jongin eyeing his wings with his large eyes, and Sehun hopes this could all be a dream. Maybe he’d wake up safe and warm in Jongin’s arms, maybe he’s just imagining the fury in Jongin’s eyes, maybe he’s just overreacting and there is no way Jongin can see his wings. Sehun opens his mouth to say something, but all the words he wants to say are trapped and blocked in his throat and he frowns instead.

“You have fucking wings,” Jongin continues, confirming Sehun’s worst fear, and he steps into the cramped bathroom to reach out and touch one of the wings. “How are you even fucking real? Are you just part of my imagination, then? Was Kyungsoo right about the fact that I might really need to get laid? Or…” Jongin trails off, and he meets Sehun’s gaze. For a terrifying moment, Sehun wants to cry at the look in Jongin’s eyes. “Or are you a real angel? That can’t be, right, Oh Sehun?”

Tears are prickling at the back of Sehun’s eyelids as he closes his eyes and attempts to will this entire night away, but he opens his eyes and Jongin’s eyes are soft and pleading and tears are falling down from his own eyes and his wings shrink back weakly as he sinks to the floor.

“Please,” Jongin laughs desperately as he crouches down, but it comes out as a choked sob instead, “tell me it’s not real, Sehun-ah, tell me you’re real, and mine. You don’t have to go anywhere else, right?”

“I - I am an angel, Jongin, and I was sent here to be your angel. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but I lost my memories. That’s real. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, Jongin, what are we going to even do?” Sehun whispers, voice cracking at the end as he hugs his knees with his arms and sobs loudly.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jongin grits as he moves forward to wrap his arms around Sehun’s body and rests his chin on Sehun’s shoulder. “We can just be us, right? We can continue to be like that, and nobody will know.”

“No… no, Jongin, it’s against the rules… we can’t do that. As long as you know my identity… it’s over.”

Sehun quietly lets Jongin tuck him into bed for one more time, lets Jongin’s kisses linger on his forehead and lips for one more time, and lets Jongin’s warm hold melt him completely inside for just one last time.

Sehun dreams of a dark place with no light. There are no sounds either, but he feels his wings being pulled out forcefully and suddenly, light is emitting from them. Sehun shivers, and in the dark distance he hears Jongin’s light laughter. “Jongin,” Sehun pleads, and reaches his arm out to wherever he can reach, if only it meant he could see Jongin, but his wings are fixed there and it hurts if Sehun moves beyond his area.

“Jongin,” Sehun repeats weakly, and he blacks out with the last burning image of Jongin behind his eyelids.

When he wakes up, the sky blue ceiling of Jongin’s room isn’t the first thing that greets his eyes, and neither are Jongin’s sparkling eyes, but the clear sky of heaven. “What the hell,” Sehun says, because he hasn’t seen this in a while, and the clouds at his feet grip at him tightly as Sehun claps a hand over his mouth on reflex, realizing the cuss word he said. They’re pretty strict about this.

“You’re awake?” This voice is terribly familiar, but Sehun hasn’t heard it in months, so he has to twist his body a little to see who it is.

“Yeah, hyung.”

“What happened to the signal? Do you know how worried we all were when we couldn’t contact or locate you anymore? I thought - I thought we were going to lose another -”

“I’m fine, hyung, I’m fine. I don’t know what happened, but I lost my memories. I made my way to Kim Jongin just fine, anyway,” Sehun says, and Jongin’s name leaves a harsh and bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He frowns, and Junmyeon sees it easily.

“Did anything happen there?” He asks, and Sehun shakes his head. “You do know that his memories are erased because he knows who you are, right? Even all the people who once met you on Earth, too?”

And Sehun doesn’t know that. Despite all that he’d prided himself with content knowledge of his home all these years, he never really looked his section up, and his heart is pounding faster with each passing second as he lets that sink in slowly. The seniors and the officials had told him that before, during the briefing, but he wasn’t paying attention enough to that. “He doesn’t know I exist anymore,” Sehun breathes.

Junmyeon nods solemnly, and Sehun finally exhales. “He doesn’t remember me anymore, but I remember him,” he laughs, and he can almost feel the tears coming up.

“I guess something did happen, after all.”

Sehun says nothing, his gaze transfixed on the clouds and the world below.

“Hey, Sehun, you do know that we guardian angels are allowed to keep track of our assigned mortals even after our missions, right? You can go to the fountain at the backyard and request for it. You can see your mortal… but that’s all,” Junmyeon explains quickly, and Sehun thanks him profusely before running to the backyard barefooted.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the senior angel Baekhyun calls, before stopping Sehun with his arm, “who are you and why do you want to go to the backyard? You need a pass, you know? Or special permission. Or -”

“I’m a guardian angel,” Sehun chokes out, and Baekhyun shrugs wordlessly before fishing his keys out and leading Sehun to the fountain.

“Yell at me if you’re ready to go,” Baekhyun says, and after he leaves, the backyard is deserted and silent except for Sehun, and the stealthy noises of the water in the fountain.

Sehun forgot too much about his textbooks and the things he learnt, but he vaguely remembers his chapter. There’s something related to blood, and that’s just it. He spots a sharp shard of glass by the fountain, stained by many other kinds of blood and he closes his eyes and drags it across the tip of his finger. The pearl blue liquid drips out slowly and Sehun lets the drops fall into the water of the fountain. When the water swirls red, images of Jongin appear and Sehun has to bite into his knuckles to prevent crying out loud.

When the water finally calms down without ripples, Sehun leans forward to catch a glimpse of how Jongin’s doing, and he feels his heart break with each word.

“Hey, Kyungsoo!” Jongin’s all prepared for school, and he slings his backpack across his shoulder as he brings his other arm up to throw it across Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “I had a really weird and long dream last night, man, I even woke up crying.”

“Crying? That doesn’t sound like Kim Jongin… So, what’s the dream about, anyway?”

“There was this really hot guy who just appeared in my house and I had to take care of him and he was really, really cute, Kyungsoo. I forgot the middle bits but I remember… he was an angel. Like a real angel, Kyungsoo. He had wings and all that jazz. Then I woke up crying, and I don’t know why I did.” Jongin’s frowning and he’s pouting and Sehun is torn between crying out loud or to reach out to see if he could just manage to touch Jongin’s face.

Sehun touches the surface of the water with a shaking hand and he stands up to leave, but his knees buckle and he tries to bite the tears back as he wobbles out of the gates. Baekhyun eyes him worriedly but doesn’t say anything as he locks up the gates.

“The dream was so real, Kyungsoo, it felt almost real,” Jongin repeats as they walk out of school.

Kyungsoo shoots him a weary glance, and shakes his head. It begins to rain, and Kyungsoo curses as they cover their heads with their bags and run to the nearest bus stop.

“I think I loved him in my dream, Kyungsoo.”

Somewhere up in the sky, an angel is crying and his tears are falling down as rain and nobody else knows why.)

-

6.
tousle me softly
sehun/kai
jongin is just a tardy kid, and sehun is the smart student who unwillingly gets involved with a certain tardy kid.

It’s the first day of school, and it's the first time of the year that Jongin might be receiving a detention slip for being late. He frantically chews on his slice of bread as he attempts to tie his shoelaces in a decent manner, but fails instead. Growling, he settles for a messily-done knot, before hopping off the steps of the apartment and dashing towards school.

Jongin pulls out his phone from his pocket and sends an angry text to his half-landlord, half-schoolmate, Kyungsoo.

why didn't you wake me up

The phone vibrates and rings noisily in Jongin’s hand soon after, but it quickly gets drowned out by the crowd rushing to different destinations. He hurriedly switches his phone to the silent mode, and reads the short text.

i did. you didn't react so i went off first. i even packed your lunch for you, you ungrateful bastard

Snorting at the screen, Jongin taps a quick and witty reply before shoving the phone back into his pants pocket, hands already numbing from the harsh January chill.

i saw it.. aww... a star-shaped kimbab... how manly of you, kyungsoo.... you're still dead meat for not waking me up, btw

There’s no response after that, and Jongin figures he must be really late. He quickens his pace a little and squeezes past bustling people at the bus stop before slowing down just before the school compound. The headmaster is personally standing near the gates, furiously eyeing students from head to toe to see if they’ve broken any visible rules during the winter break. Jongin pats his hair down with his cold fingers and takes a confident step in front.

And lands his right foot in a fresh puddle of mud. It must’ve rained earlier in the morning or dead in the night, because it’s still slick and slippery and all sorts of watery gross. Jongin lets out an uncharacteristic squeak and hopes no one else heard it. He sighs at the mud-soaked shoe and digs out his water bottle before pouring a generous amount onto his shoe. The disgusting brown on the canvas fades a little, but it still looks gross. Whatever.

The headmaster looks at Jongin and a quick smile plays on the corner of his lips as recognition flickers in his eyes. Well… Jongin isn’t quite the frequent troublemaker, but he’s definitely not one of the nicer ones of his batch. Hurriedly Jongin tries to step on his clean shoe with his dirtied one to make it look more balanced, and he shoots the man a pleading glance before the headmaster concedes with a resigned sigh, already used to these antics Jongin pull, before gesturing for jongin to go on with his long wooden ruler.

If Jongin remembers right, the first period is Chemistry. He digs out the thick textbook from his locker and runs to his class from the deserted locker corridors. Taking a deep breath, Jongin knocks tentatively on the wooden door, and the dreary sound reverberates in the empty hallway. “Come in,” a loud voice replies, and a cold chill runs down his spine as realization dawns on him.

The door swings open to reveal Jongin, Jongin with his dark, tousled hair (he couldn’t find the comb) and his mud-covered shoes. And his uniform blouse tucked out. And his Chemistry textbook, bright green in his arms. Teacher Cho, his Physics teacher, sends him a beseeching glance before sighing. “What kind of honor do I have to have our dear Jongin present in my class? Are you sure you’re even scheduled for a “hysics class?” Teacher Cho says airily, the laser pointer threatening in his hands. There are stifled giggles and chuckles from the rows of students, and Jongin feels his face go hot.

“I - I’m sorry I’m late,” Jongin splutters, and the teacher raises his hands in surrender and shrugs.

“Just take a seat there,” he continues, hand gesturing at an empty seat beside a lanky boy, “and keep my class in peace.”

Jongin mumbles his half-hearted consent before shuffling to his seat quietly, dumping his bag on the table and momentarily contemplates having a mental breakdown about now. The lanky boy beside him shifts uncomfortably, as if he’d trade the world to not sit beside Jongin, and it makes Jongin feel worse. It’s not his fault he checked the Tuesday timetable instead of the Monday one! It was just a careless mistake!

“I told everyone to revise during the break, right? And we’ve just gone through some of the important key points you’ve known since last year. So, Jongin, tell us what the Principles of Moments state.”

Jongin abruptly sits up before standing up on reflex and stares at the blackboard pleadingly for any possible clues, but the board is only a huge smudge of white swirls and blots of leftover chalk and Jongin gapes helplessly. “Um,” he answers, fingers fidgeting with the jagged edges of the wooden table nervously.

There’s a sharp jab against his hips and Jongin looks down abashedly. The boy beside him pushes his own notebook towards jongin and jongin reads off it with a sigh of relief. Teacher Cho huffs and grumbles before turning back to the board to scribble more formulae on it.

“Thanks,” Jongin whispers back as he sits down, palms still clammy with nervous sweat. Who the hell studies during the winter break, anyway?

“You’re welcome,” the boy replies, and his voice is a little higher and squeakier than he’d have expected. Jongin edges forward to sneak a glance at his face properly because all he can see is the left side of his face. Oh, he’s pretty good-looking, actually.

The hour bell rings, loud and brutal in everyone’s ears before the teacher shuts his book and dismisses the class with a cordial wave of his hand. The students rush out of the doors in sleepy murmurs and happy sighs. Jongin gathers his bag in his arms before slinging it over his shoulders as he stands up, and when he turns around the other boy is already gone.

It turns out that there isn’t even Chemistry on Monday. Jongin shoves the book back into his locker angrily before making his way to the cafeteria. He takes the usual route until he sees familiar faces, and Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at Jongin, but apparently he had saved a seat for him anyway. Wistfully, Jongin thinks back about this long friendship he had shared with Kyungsoo, and he slings an arm over the petite boy and hums in contentment. “I’m sorry, hyung,” Jongin says, and bats his eyelashes at Kyungsoo while pouting a little.

Kyungsoo cringes and flails his arms about, leaning back until his back hits Zitao’s shoulders, and they break out into rowdy laughter.

It’s a little pity Jongin doesn’t have many friends of his age, because he was born in January, and the school admin had accidentally categorized him under the batch one year older than him, and during the orientation he had met a few friends, Kyungsoo and Zitao inclusive. When the school finally realizes the mistake, they apologize and send him back to the correct year, and by then the friendships and cliques and groups were already almost all formed, so Jongin was left quite the loner in his year.

He has a handful of friends of his year, of course, in his dance elective where everybody was fresh and new, so they made friends easily. There was Soojung, and there was Jinri, but he was considered lucky if Soojung even acknowledges him with a curt nod outside the dance studio. Jinri was a little better; she smiles brightly and even calls his name to say hi sometimes. There were older seniors, but it’s a new year now, so most of them are pretty much gone. There’s still Taemin, but he’s too busy coping with the national exam to care about the elective nowadays.

It isn’t that Jongin likes to stare at Sehun when they’re in class, but Jongin likes to stare out of the window when he’s bored and since he’s bored ninety percent of the lesson, the window, to him, is more like the blackboard to the rest of the students. And Sehun’s face just so happens to block this beautiful view, but his side profile definitely makes up for the loss of it.

“Why the hell are you staring,” Sehun asks, dropping his giraffe-patterned mechanical pencil to the wooden desk. The teacher is still going on and on about terminal velocity and Jongin is pretty sure he doesn’t want to know what that means, but Sehun is another story.

“Um,” Jongin says again, eyes darting everywhere except Sehun’s eyes. “Y-your notebook,” he stutters, finger pointing at the opened book on Sehun’s desk, “it’s cute. The way you take notes is cute.”

And it’s kind of true, actually. Sehun likes to draw random diagrams and analogies to explain to himself the different concepts, and one time Jongin had watched as Sehun drew a perfect lever using his metal ruler with two cute little blocks on each side. His wobbly but cute letters read ‘equilibrium’ under the miniature explanatory diagram, and Jongin finds amusement in looking at something he knows he’ll never ever attempt.

“Thanks,” Sehun answers quietly, fingers tightening around his mechanical pencil. Jongin could’ve sworn there’s a quick rush of heat in Sehun’s cheeks because he sees a hint of red there, but he leaves it alone. Who knows, it might be the trick of light in his eyes. Some things can’t really be deduced this early.

“You’re welcome,” Jongin replies instead, and opts to rest the side of his head on his bag so that he faces the windows on the other wall of the classroom instead of the side of Sehun’s overly attractive face.

The sweet autumn breeze blows right across Jongin’s face as he closes his eyes and lets out a contented sigh. Sehun smacks his lips beside Jongin noisily, and he jabs his chopsticks into one of jongin's salted rice cakes in his box before popping it quickly into his mouth, grinning around it as he chews proudly. The shape of the rice cake pokes out from his cheeks and Jongin finds it cute, oddly. A lot of odd things are happening recently. “Hey, that’s my favorite. Kyungsoo likes to ensure I eat well, you know. It was the last piece, too,” Jongin whines.

“It’s called payback,” Sehun drawls quite happily around the chewed rice cake, “payback for when you stole the heart-shaped kimbap rolls Lu Han-hyung made for me last week. Karma is a bitch, Kim Jongin.”

“I didn’t know your name was karma,” Jongin continues quickly, and Sehun’s jaw drops unattractively, eyes blinking as he sends a punch straight to Jongin’s guts.

The rooftop isn’t exactly the best place for lunch, given the nice and cosy cafeteria, but Sehun chews noisily beside him and the wind blows softly again and it feels good.

It’s getting so bad to the point that Jongin can count with his one hand how many times Sehun had talked to him in that week. It never makes it past four. Jongin tugs at his hair with a free hand, frustrated, thinking of all the things he could’ve possibly done wrong that caused Sehun to avoid him like the plague.

In the end, he never gets an answer he likes.

The next time they see each other is entirely unplanned, too. Jongin had stayed back to practice and apparently Sehun had lost the stupid mini game they were playing earlier, so he had to clean up and lock the rooms after everybody leaves. Body swerved in the middle of a spin, Jongin’s head snaps up to the sound of the doors clicking and he looks up to the pale figure of Sehun clad in his bold leopard print hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“Hi,” Jongin manages, and he thinks they’ve never been this awkward together before.

“Hi,” Sehun replies softly before ducking to the store room to grab the mop. “Are you still practicing?” he asks later, the rod of the mop clenched tight in his left hand as he props himself up against it.

Jongin shakes his head quickly, the droplets of sweat clinging to random strands of his hair falling to the wooden tiled floor.

-

7.
untitled sekai hs au

Jongin doesn't really know when it all began, but his high school roommate is one hell of a brat and definitely, definitely one hell of a pretty boy. He had strolled into their room with a stick of lollipop wedged between his lips, hair a bright bubblegum pink and eyes tinted with a layer of azure. They had stared at each other before realizing that they were staring, and they burst out laughing for a good minute.

"Oh Sehun," he had said with an outstretched hand, a bright grin on his face as he tries to talk around the candy, and Jongin feels his heart beating as he takes the hand into his own.

"Kim Jongin," he replied, without stuttering, much to his surprise, and Sehun nods, pursing his lips in thought.

When Sehun unpacked, Jongin managed to catch a glimpse of a box of bright, red underwear.

Maybe this was how it all began.

Jongin finds out they take almost the same classes, except he has Physics and Sehun apparently thinks that Physics is one of the worst subjects there are on earth and picked Biology instead.

"Joooongin," Sehun whispers to him one day during English, "did you finish the essay?"

"No," Jongin mumbles, and pushes a bar of gum to Sehun. "She won't ask for it," he continues, grinning wryly.

Sehun frowns and tilts his head before finally sighing and smiling. "Alright, alright, I trust you. If she does ask for it, though, I'm gonna say Jongin took my essay to copy."

And their relationship is pretty easy, actually, their classes end at different timings but they always end up in the dance studio together, getting scolded by the instructor because they're "always fooling around in practice", and they always, always end up in their room with cheap cup noodles and bottles of milk as they slave through the night with textbooks and notes.

So what exactly went wrong in this route? Sehun is still Sehun, Sehun with his night teeth retainers and sharp canine teeth, Sehun with his eye-rolling and the complaint about his contact lenses rolling up his sockets coming right after. What has changed, though, is Sehun's hair color- from bright pink- the way Jongin likes it- to a sleek shade of gray, and the way Jongin feels about Sehun.

Jongin likes the way Sehun would lean in close, so close he can smell the shampoo Sehun had used earlier, when he teaches Jongin how to solve the equation with a bad roll of his eyes.
Jongin likes the way Sehun wakes up in the morning- a big yawn as he stretches his arms- and the way his shirt rides up his tummy while he does it; how his eyes tear up after and then he whines about breakfast and how Jongin is so tempted to jump on him and coo about how seriously /cute/ that is.
Jongin likes how in the middle of their after-midnight study sessions, Sehun would plop flat on the floor, wriggle a bit, and then shift so that his head is in Jongin's lap. As Sehun snores off while Jongin balances homogenous equations, he finds it so hard not to reach down and thread his fingers through the layers of Sehun's gray hair, just to see if it's as soft as it looks like (as soft as he dreams they are).

Kim Jongin is definitely not infatuated. Kim Jongin is most definitely not infatuated with his stupid roommate with fucking pink hair who thinks Biology is better than Physics, who gets up early every morning just to put his blue contact lenses on, yet come home late at night complaining about them, who falls asleep during math lectures with his mouth hanging open and eyelashes flush against the curve of his cheekbone.

Definitely not.

This is all in the name of friendship, he thinks, as he stirs the gooey chocolate mixture in the bowl, friendship. The oven starts with a faint ding and Jongin cleans the small kitchen up before sitting in front of the oven and counting down the seconds until the next beep goes off.

Valentine's day is a very special day to the majority of the students in his school. There are girls lining up at one of the senior's locker- Lu Han, was it- to give chocolates, in which he would accept and keep them neatly in his locker, but never gives promises or answers to the girls. There are guys who specially saved up to get a bunch of roses for the girls they've grown fond of, and there are also friends who would exchange gifts with each other.

Then there's Jongin, with a box of hastily prepared chocolate with a dainty pink ribbon stuck on top, in front of Sehun's locker. A girl from his literature class walks over, taps his shoulder and passes him a box of chocolates and dashes away. Jongin holds the box and eyes it curiously, wondering if he should run away like that after giving Sehun the chocolates.

"Jongin!" That's Sehun, and Sehun is rushing to his locker with an armful of nicely wrapped gifts. Jongin thinks he's seen this one somewhere before-

"Jongin, I'm sorry I can't go back with you- I know you'll never believe this, but I have a date tonight!" Sehun exclaims, shoving the sweets into his locker. Jongin's eyes follow the gifts worriedly as his palms turn clammy around his own box. He still thinks that box looks strangely familiar...

"A date." Sehun nods. "You're abandoning your best friend for a Valentine! Oh Sehun, I should've known," Jongin sighs dramatically, and props himself against the locker.

"Don't be too sad, my friend. I see you have got gifts too, right?" Sehun says, jerking his chin in the direction of the chocolates, "that's a cute ribbon," he coos, and Jongin feels his heart stop because /this is for you idiot and you had to go get yourself a fucking date/ but- "so you can get yourself a nice dinner date tonight. I promise to tell you everything that happens between me and Lu Han-hyung today, okay?"

He even wants to tell me everything, Jongin muses, and shakes his head with a smile before he realizes what Sehun had said, straightens himself and knocks his head against the locker. "You're. Going on a date with Lu Han."

Sehun nods.

"/The/ Lu Han." Jongin repeats dubiously.

Sehun nods.

And Jongin thinks of Lu Han, the pretty-faced senior with girls all around him and the way he sprints off from the starting line when the airhorn is blown. Lu Han, with girls lined up in a fucking queue just to give him chocolates and-

No wonder that box was so familiar.

"Aren't you gonna go give chocolates to people though?" Sehun asks when Jongin is done mulling.

"I... I should," he says, pats Sehun on the back, and feels a jolt of electricity through him when Sehun smiles back. "Enjoy your date, Sehun-ah."

When Jongin walks away, the remnants of the electricity reverberate all through his body and he still feels the tingle in his fingertips where he had touched Sehun.

three / four / five