Alone, I had Only to Wish for lunathunderhead 3/3

[feixing]

He finds himself ducking into the cafe without actually being prepared for any circumstances. For one, he's lucky that the fans have yet to chance upon the place, since the store isn't altogether far away from the dorms. For another, it's possible that he could run into someone, but he seats himself quickly and tries to avoid contact with anyone already seated.

One of the waiters comes for his order, and he indulges his dream by asking for an Americano and a sandwich, smiling wryly to himself.

He waits, keeping his head down, and rubs his hands together to warm them. After a while, he starts scrolling through his phone for new dances to learn, weighing the pros and cons of Mobbin' and Titanium against each other. He's still pondering whether he can find better choreography for one or the other when the waiter returns.

“It's been a long time since any of the staff have seen you here,” he says, setting down his plate.

Jongin tilts his head, and doesn't reply.

The coffee is set before him in a chipped china cup with a tiny butterfly pattern on it. He takes a sip of coffee and sets it back down, sitting and thinking about the last time he was here.

“I want something stronger,” Sehun said, mouth turned down, but eyes twinkling.

Jongin looked at the cup of coffee in his hand, almost empty. “Alright, let me finish this and then we'll go somewhere else.”

They left after paying, and found themselves getting drunk off of cheap soju at a street vendor that didn't card sometime around four in the morning. Sehun was a giggly drunk, and Jongin a clingy one.

“Tomorrow morning's going to be just terrible,” Sehun said, and laughed. Jongin couldn't help but laugh with him, before wrapping an arm around Sehun's waist.

“No one's going to notice anything wrong with you. Your face when you have a hangover looks just like your normal face,” Jongin teased, before burying his face into Sehun's collarbone and inhaling Sehun's scent.

“Well, I guess it'll just be everyone asking you what's wrong when you can't dance because your head hurts too much, and I'll be in some corner smirking away.”

“Ugh, you're the worst.”

“And the best part is that you won't actually be able to say what without getting into more trouble, so no one will bring you a glass of water, and you won't be allowed to wear shades inside, and you'll wish you could take another Advil once the music is blasting.”

“I hate you,” Jongin slurred, without any feeling.

“Oh I know,” Sehun said before he erupted into uncontrollable giggles. It took him a good minute and a half before he could speak again. “I love you too.”

Jongin's thoughts are sent sharply back to the present moment and, he finally turns to what will probably end up being his only meal for the day. He lifts the sandwich off the plate, crumbs falling off, and sees the envelope. It's almost expected. He takes a bite first, and chews slowly as he slides the envelope off the plate and brushes bread crumbs off of it.

He swallows and reads his name written in the same familiar handwriting as was on the envelope he picked up in the phone booth. Brushing off his hands, he lifts up the flap and finds another polaroid. This time, it's of the SM building, and Jongin and Sehun are in the foreground, looking at each other and laughing. They're both sweaty and tired as if after a practice. It looks like something from their trainee days, and Jongin thinks he's never seen the picture before, or at least, doesn't remember it being snapped with his knowledge.

Puzzled, his eyes slide down to the bottom of the photograph, where the address of the SM building is written. Why would anyone think that he needed to be reminded of the location? But then, he finishes reading, and realizes that the last line is a room number, that someone's trying to get him into a specific studio in the building.

It has to be someone from the company then, who's been sending him all this strange stuff. The trouble is, he still doesn't know who it is. The only thing he knows is that if it's from the company, and if the location is the company, he probably doesn't have to be worried about being mauled by fangirls.

But he's not ready. He's not ready to go back and face people he hasn't seen in ...months. It's months now, even though for a while he was able to count the weeks. He's scared what will happen if he sees the dance instructors, the vocal coaches. He's more scared of being in the practice rooms and realizing how much he misses being with the other members, practicing, recording, and performing. He doesn't think he's ready to confront the fact that he needs EXO, loves EXO, and had abandoned EXO. Maybe tomorrow, he thinks as he sets down some cash on the table, before bundling himself up and heading back out into the cold.

Tomorrow comes and goes, but Jongin does not return to the SM building. No one from management has called him since his last and final visit to the hospital, and he assumes that means that he isn't needed at the building, which means that Sehun is still too injured to participate in any activities, and also means that EXO is still stuck in their weird not-a-band limbo. He lies in bed, thinking about whether or not he could walk over without being spotted and cornered, and runs through possible situations in his mind, all of which seem stupid after the fact. There's not a great deal of space in the apartment, but it's sufficed for him up until this point, and he doesn't see why any of that would change suddenly. But then, his eyes flicker to the two polaroids which lie on the bed, his and Sehun's tiny blurry faces smiling, and his chest contracts a little, his eyes soften, and his will weakens.

He doesn't sleep with the pictures under his pillow the second night, leaves them on the kitchen counter so Empress Lu Han can't visit his dreams again and give him strange ideas.

The person who visits his dreams that night is Sehun, who looks at him with his lips sealed in a thin line.

“Come,” Sehun says softly, and beckons at him with his hand. He's a Butterfly Prince, and looks so perfectly in tune with his surroundings.

Jongin follows, and Sehun leads him through a field of zinnias. Sehun reaches out to hold his hand, and Jongin takes it but keeps flinching because butterflies surround and land on Sehun wherever he walks, and Jongin's scared he's accidentally going to crush one and maim or kill it. One of them flies past his ear and sits in Sehun's hair, a perfect match in colour. It makes him think of the swallowtail that had landed on Sehun's shoulder the day of the car crash and he wakes up suddenly in a panic. The apartment is dark, and he rolls over to try to go back to sleep, willing himself to think of anything but that day this time.

The next day comes and goes. Jongin makes it as far as the door before he stops himself. He hesitates as he reaches for his jacket, but caves and hangs it back up before he can unlock the room and leave.

The day after that comes and goes.

It's not until the fifth day after the cafe that he finally slips on his jacket, lifts the hood over his face, and shoves his hands into his pockets without reaching for the photo on the countertop. He doesn't need it to know what room his destination is.

Jongin walks briskly in the thin layer of snow outside, taking back alleys and sideroads until he reaches the side entrance into the SM building. He dodges fans whenever he sees them until he manages to get inside, unzipping his parka and relishing in the warmth of the well-heated hallways. For what it was worth, SM didn't skimp on the essentials much, not when it came to the company itself, with its dozens and dozens of staff and workers.

Where he was swift in his footsteps outside, he drags his feet up the stairs, careful to avoid looking anyone in the face, but finds that no one is in his way. Which is strange, because usually there's more activity, more costume and make-up designers rushing about in a flurry, or managers trying to find people. He doesn't question it as he makes his way down the hall, there are quiet days in the SM building too, he knows this, and considers the fact that without the twelve members of EXO there to cause trouble all the time, it's probably a lot calmer on a regular basis.

He arrives, and double-checks that the room number is right, just in case, before opening the door.

The lights are off when he steps inside. This is not altogether strange. What is strange is that when he turns the lights on, there are at least a dozen polaroids all taped up to the mirrors that run along the side of the studio. Jongin closes the door behind him and tentatively steps up towards them.

Each picture is of Jongin with Sehun. Some of them are pictures he's never seen before. Some of them shouldn't really be polaroids, but they're photos of photos. Each one has his name, written neatly, along with the date. He walks along the length of the room, looking at each of them carefully, peeling them off the mirrors and holding it up close to his face.

There's a photograph from Jongin's high school graduation, a picture of a picture someone else had taken when Jongin had tucked his head into the crook of Sehun's neck, satisfied and happy as he holds too many flowers. He hadn't realized how happy he looked in the picture, but now that he thinks about it, he remembers the relief, both at graduating high school and having some semblance of a future. Sehun's presence had only added to that feeling of contentment, being able to graduate with your best friend at your side even if he wasn't in the same class as you was really comforting.

Jongin touches the picture, traces a finger along the line of his lips, lips not quite curved into a smile, but eyes so soft and gentle that it's obvious he's smiling inside. He wonders if he'll ever regain that feeling of satisfaction again.

There are other pictures of them, pictures they had taken together with their phones, faces reflecting in the mirror, eyes trained on the picture instead of looking into the camera. They look young here, and have a healthy glow about them, devoid of any of the drained idol look that so commonly featured in their photographs now. In the picture, his arm is around Sehun's neck, and he thinks they might look happy.

Further down is a polaroid of them together at the W photo shoot, their first photo shoot as idols. He remembers that they had tried to all selca together, with Taemin hyung and Lu Han hyung, but he doesn't remember taking this picture. Jongin looks like he's about to hit Sehun for something he's said, and Sehun's eyes are crinkled. He's certain now that they must have been teasing each other about looking awkward in the photos that the cameraman had taken.

It wasn't that long ago, not really, but it feels like another lifetime.

He’s overwhelmed by their camaraderie as he pulls down each picture. He looks at them smiling with each other, arms wrapped around each other's waists, shoulders, or necks and realizes he doesn't remember when Sehun had become so important in his life. He was always there, at every critical moment in time. The two of them had been together so long that Jongin wasn't quite sure what to do with himself without Sehun. And when he looks, when he really sees them, he realizes that when they were together it was always more than just being best friends, it was always knowing that they had each other's backs, being so faithful and loyal and trusting. It was love. It had always been love. From the first time they had danced together, way before they were naked in the showers together. And Jongin just hadn't been able to see that, not until the picture evidence was right in front of his eyes.

Finally, he reaches the last photograph. It's not chronologically the last photograph, but the last on the wall, and when he reaches up to grab it, he notices something strange. The photograph doesn't have Sehun in it, just features a sleepy Jongin grinning.

Kim Jongin
15 January 2012

That had been the day after his nineteenth birthday. He doesn't remember anything strange about that day, and the numbers don't set off any bells in his head. But then he looks closer at the way he's smiling in the photo, ponders.

Jongin thinks that it was the day after he had fucked Sehun for the first time. It must have been, he remembers now that Lu Han hyung had smirked at him the morning after and briefly wonders how it is that Lu Han manages to know everything.

There were other people in the dorm but Sehun had looked positively tantalizing from the moment Jongin entered the room and everyone started singing Happy Birthday. He rushed impatiently through the cake and presents and when they finally, finally, had time alone in Jongin's room, doors locked and Jongin's bed waiting, Jongin was far more concerned about the amount of clothing Sehun was wearing, than about the other members hearing them. He made quick work of both of their clothes, tossing everything aside into a heap. He brought his hand to the back of Sehun’s neck and he pulled him down forcefully for a bruising kiss.

Their teeth clacked against each other and Jongin had to adjust his head for a better angle. He sucked at Sehun’s tongue gently, and groaned loudly when Sehun swiped his tongue across his bottom lip. Sehun took charge and plunged his tongue into Jongin’s mouth, explored it and pressed their tongues against each other before they broke apart for air. Sehun arched against Jongin's thigh then, and Jongin's head spun.

He felt the pressure of Sehun's cock against him, and Jongin wrapped his hand around both of them and tried to get them off. Sehun buried his face into Jongin’s neck and cried out before biting down on Jongin’s shoulder without any force. Jongin hissed loudly anyway, and attacked Sehun’s ear in retaliation, nibbling at the lobe and sucking at Sehun’s neck.

Sehun whimpered from the sensation, and shifted his weight so his hand could join Jongin’s. And then, without any warning, Sehun pulled apart and sat up. He pierced Jongin with his gaze, and Jongin looked at him, confused and unsure what was wrong.

“Teach me,” Sehun begged.

Jongin wasn't ready for that. After all the sloppy blowjobs and quick rutting whenever they could steal a moment of privacy, he wasn't sure if either of them were ready. Terrified, he brought his hands up to Sehun's face, and kissed him slowly, deliberately, gently.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Even with Sehun's fervent nodding, he was tentative.

Sehun reached over to slick his fingers as best he could and Jongin pulled away, watching as Sehun slowly pressed one finger inside, tongue between his teeth and brow furrowed as he fingered himself. Jongin’s eyes were glued to the finger slipping in and out, and he felt his cock twitch just at the sight.

When Sehun pushed in a second finger, it was Jongin who moaned. Moaned as Sehun scissored his fingers and bit down on his lower lip, squeezed his eyes tightly together as he added in a third finger. The fingers thrusted in and out of him, until he beckoned to Jongin.

Jongin slicked his cock and unwrapped a condom.

“You have those? See, you’ve been wanting it too,” Sehun pointed out as Jongin positioned himself against Sehun's entrance. Jongin said nothing, felt Sehun shiver in his arms. He put in very little pressure, waited for Sehun to slide himself down on him slowly and carefully. When he was all the way in, Sehun let out a shaky breath.

“Okay?” he asked, and Sehun nodded slowly.

He lifted his hips back up and lowered himself back down again, controlled, methodical.

“Still okay?” Jongin asked, and this time Sehun's nod was much more eager. Jongin thought that he was taking this remarkably well. The anticipation in his body was thrumming, Sehun was so tight around him and it took every ounce of his self control not to start moving sharply into Sehun.

“I’ll let you go at your own pace,” he said gently and had pulled out slowly, watching Sehun's face. When Sehun winced a little, he pulled him down towards him for a soft kiss.

Sehun raised his head and nodded before he lifted his hips up in the air, and his hand fumbled to find Jongin’s dick. He positioned it against himself and lowered himself down. This time he didn't grimace when the head of Jongin’s cock penetrated him, but he knew he was holding back tears in his eyes. Jongin noticed. Jongin noticed and wrapped fingers around Sehun’s dick, tried to distract him from the pain and Sehun forced himself to grit the pain until he could feel that he was filled with Jongin to the hilt. Jongin let him sit there for a while, while Sehun accustomed himself to the feeling. It was in that moment that he thought about how odd it was that their sex wasn't frantic or rushed like it usually was.

He looked up at Sehun's face, making the fact that it hurt. There were a million thoughts racing through his mind, and yet another million racing through Sehun's and between the two of them, Jongin realized he was the one who was supposed to comfort the other. He didn't let Sehun think too much for any longer, and put both hands on Sehun’s waist, Jongin angled his hips and bucked.

Jongin was deeper into Sehun than he thought was possible. It still didn't seem like Sehun thought that it was pleasurable. But the mechanics finally worked out and then Sehun had begun to ride Jongin slowly, lifting himself up and lowering himself down over and over. The controlled pace drove Jongin up the wall, and he tried to circle his hips, tried to adjust and find Sehun's prostate, entering him in all positions, awkwardly fumbling and trying to find his way.

So focused on trying to make Sehun feel good, Jongin had stopped caring about the weird pressure around his own cock, and kept palming Sehun's dick to keep him hard. It took a lot in him not to just simply lift Sehun up, turn him over, and fuck him into the mattress as hard and fast as he possibly could.

It took them a few moments until Jongin finally found the right position, twitching against Sehun's prostate and sending a jolt of pleasure through him. Sehun cried out so sharply, and almost collapsed onto Jongin, before giving a half moan half scream. Jongin smirked then, knew he had finally got it, and kept his hips in that position. He thrusted upwards again and again.

Sehun panted, “Jongin, more, please,” and Jongin was happy to oblige.

He thrusted harder, faster, and groaned when Sehun had slammed back onto Jongin's dick to meet him halfway. And Sehun gave the most guttural moans whenever Jongin had met the right spot, finally understanding what sex was all about.

Jongin pulled back a little, after that, felt himself driving too close to the edge too quickly, couldn't handle fucking Sehun like that, and Sehun had noticed, brought his own hand to slide against his dick. They moved together, skin pressing against each other, Jongin so far gone that he can't hold back, and he rushed their pace faster, repeatedly thrusting against Sehun's prostate, and Jongin had come first, arched his back and growled. He rode out his orgasm, jerked off Sehun until he too was coming with a groan.

They had curled into each other after that, Sehun's cheek pressed against Jongin's chest, both of them half asleep before the thought of cleaning themselves up could even be suggested, both of them spent and completely exhausted.

The memory gives Jongin a strange nervous energy, which isn't sexual so much as it's uncontrollable. He thinks he could probably dance it off, and when he turns on the music, he's unsurprised that it's one of their teaser songs that comes out. Of course it would be, if someone had this all planned out right from the beginning.

He dances the one song, the only track set to play apparently, since the sound system automatically shuts off after it’s over. Jongin’s exhausted and collapses onto his back against the laminated wood floor of the studio. He looks up at the ceiling and feels his muscles still alive with energy. He can still smell the scent of Sehun's hair, feel Sehun's skin under his fingers, tastes his lips against his tongue.

His left arm is bent to cradle his head. He holds his right arm up and lifts his thumb. “EXO,” he breathes, and it courses through his veins: he is as much a part of EXO as EXO is a part of him.

For the first time in months, he feels a need to go back to the dorms surge through him, a sense that he should finally return back home.

In all his years living in the dormitories, Jongin has never found this particular doorway menacing. And yet, he's terrified of unlocking the door to see what he might find inside. His hand trembles and he takes a shaky step inside and finds the apartment empty.

“Hello?” He calls out tentatively, and receives no response. In a stronger voice he asks, “Everyone? Is anyone home?”

It's an eerie feeling to find the dorms so quiet. Usually there are at least several other members doing something or another, and there's always some noise involved. Where are they all? A group dinner? A party? Was this planned?

Not running into anyone in the company building, and now this, an empty dorm. Jongin's sure that someone is doing something behind the scenes.

He gets the distinct feeling that he's a mouse running in a maze and there is a scientist with a clipboard hovering over him. They watch him hit all the planned hurdles, laugh at him, and jot down any observations. They're peering at him with goggles on, and he's playing right into all their traps. He doesn't like feeling like an experiment.

Instead of going into his own room, he opens the door to the room Sehun had shared with Lu Han and Kyungsoo and sits on Sehun's bed. He leans back, rolls over, and inhales what he imagines to be Sehun's scent from freshly laundered sheets that Sehun hadn't slept in.

He fists the sheets with both hands and releases, clenching and unclenching, breathing in and out. Stop running away, he thinks to himself. He had spent so long running away from his own feelings that running away from confrontation with Sehun or any of the other members had become his way of avoiding self-reflection. It wasn't just running away from his responsibilities; Kim Jongin was running as fast as possible far away from Kim Jongin.

Whatever turned him into this cowering man, he has to change. He has to reconcile his thoughts and feelings, and become a full person instead of just a shell. Gritting his teeth, he tries to figure out what he's so scared of. But it's so obvious when he actually asks himself the question. He's scared that Sehun hates him, scared that all of EXO hate him, scared because he's completely in love with Sehun. At the end of the day, what he wants is for Sehun to be okay, even if happy is asking too much, just okay would be enough. And if Sehun hadn't wanted to see Jongin, didn't want to talk to him, much less be friends or lovers, Jongin didn't know if he could survive. It was easier to practice avoidance just in case it came to the worst case scenario, if his worst fears became not just a nightmare but a reality.

He's losing it.

It's also the principle of the matter, losing out to himself, to fate, or whatever it was that led him here, conceding defeat just wasn't something he was willing to do. Even if it was unhealthy, he wasn't willing to sacrifice the bubble he had built around himself as a coping mechanism. Building a bubble within that bubble was his way of failsafe, just in case the outside bubble burst.

But losing is a part of life. You can't really live without feeling failure, rejection, and unhappiness. It's the worst moments that make happiness so sweet, and so mistakes are just as important as success, it makes things valuable, and you hold what you treasure most even closer to your heart. You learn what it's like to value things and find them precious and it's in losing something that you realize just how important that thing is to you.

Jongin covers his eyes with his hands, looks up into the tiny darkened world he's created for himself, and realizes he needs more. Even if everything is fleeting, like a butterfly, which lands for the slightest moment, before it’s scared off, that moment when the butterfly is there is enough, it's all you need to live for. He separates his fingers and peers through the cracks and he doesn't know what the future has in store for him, but it's infinitely more vast and filled with so much more possibility than the four walls he's erected around himself.

For years, Jongin danced to feel alive. Sehun made Jongin want to live so he could dance.

“Sehun,” is the last word that comes out of his lips before he falls asleep.

In his dreams, he's in the recreation room of that hotel in Beijing again, the last place they had stayed altogether, scattered throughout the floor in pairs, but all in one building, all in one place.

There are earbuds in his ears, but for some reason it doesn't seem like there's any music playing, there's only silence all around him, and the silence is somehow deafening. He dances anyway, turns around, and suddenly sees Lu Han, who joins him in his dancing.

Suddenly, Lu Han stops and points at him, and bursts into laughter. The older boy struggles to say something through his laughing and Jongin thinks he's being called a kitty cat. His eyes widen and he stops dancing. He frowns at the still laughing Lu Han, shakes his head and his earbuds pop out.

Jongin wakes up and the light in the room is on, he can sense that even though there’s a hand covering his face. He doesn’t remember there being a light on when he had gone to sleep.

He opens his eyes and removes his hands from his face.

Lu Han is peering over him, he's not calling Jongin a cat, but he's smiling at Jongin just like one.

Jongin bolts up and definitely pulls something in his speed and vigour.

“Hyung!” It comes off as a lot of things, as surprise, as fear, as happiness, as relief. He wants to ask him where everyone is, he wants to apologize, there are a million things on the tip of his tongue.

Lu Han doesn't say anything to him at first, but points his camera at Jongin's face and holds his finger over the shutter button.

“Smile for the camera!”

There's a flash and in his eyes and Jongin is momentarily blinded. He rubs his eyes and opens them again to see Lu Han holding onto a polaroid picture, a black pen in his hand and writing Jongin's name and the date.

“I-It was hyung, it was you all along.”

He should have known. It was so obvious, the polaroids, the neat Hangul, no wonder he thought the handwriting for his name was so familiar, it hadn’t been the first time that Jongin had seen Lu Han write his name. And no one else would have made up such an involved ploy, no one but Lu Han hyung, and he should have known, he was so stupid. Jongin can’t believe it took him so long to figure it out, can’t believe he didn’t realize it earlier, didn’t realize until the answer was practically in his lap.

“Hm, yes, I am your Lu Han hyung, and I always have been,” he says, capping his pen and handing the picture to Jongin.

Jongin takes it and stares at his own face. It's blurry, not because it isn't dry, but because it's out of focus, from Lu Han taking the picture too close to his face. You can just see the outline of Jongin's visage, his nose, lines where his eyes are sleepily lidded.

“You were the one who was sending me those creepy envelopes with polaroids in them...You were the one who took all the pictures,” Jongin accuses.

“And sent you on a merry little chase back into Sehun's bed, yes, that was me. I also managed to clear everyone out of your way, including fans by the way, when you finally went back to the SM building, and then I even hustled everyone in EXO out into various apartments and made them sleep on floors and packed together like sardines so that you could come to this home and not feel terrified that people wanted to talk to you, and wanted you to talk. All this just to allow you to do all the required reflecting, you know,” Lu Han says, snatching back the polaroid from his hand. “I think it's appropriate that I inform you we very nearly didn't make it out in the time and almost ran into you because Wu Fan was being a fucker and taking hours in the bathroom. I nearly killed someone because I was so stressed out that everything wasn’t going to work out according to my plan just because Wu Fan didn’t wait the full fifteen minutes for his facial mask.”

“That's some messed up shit, hyung, like what if something happened between the time the first envelope was sent and now and I never got here?”

“I did consider sending you on one of those cliché introspective road trips, like the ones they have in the movies, where the protagonist goes off and does all that soul searching and the miraculously finds themselves and then comes back ten times the person that they used to be...But I thought it would take too long, there were more uncontrolled variables, and you probably wouldn't have the resources. There was also the danger that you'd end up getting lost in the middle of nowhere and it would have been more trouble than it was worth, really.

Suddenly, he looks at Jongin sharply.

“I hope you kept all the polaroids! If you're really attached to any of the pictures, I can make you copies, but those are mine, they are a valuable part of my collection, in ten years when the fans have money, I will auction these polaroids off for thousands of dollars.”

“You're weird, hyung.” Jongin eyes him strangely before his face softens. “How did you know it was going to work out? How did you know I was going to be in the phone booth or that I would actually go to the cafe or that I'd come here?”

Lu Han shrugs at him in an infuriating way, like somehow he knows all the details, but they're not important enough to share with Jongin. He suddenly feels like a lab rat again, and realizes that if anyone here's the cat, it's definitely, without a doubt, Lu Han.

But then Lu Han notices that he's unsettled by the lack of answer and he says, “Jongin-ah, your stage name is Kai. It means to open. You open doors, you follow paths, you unlock the clues. And at any rate, you're here aren't you? That's all that matters.”

This gives Jongin pause. “Wait, come to think of it, why am I here?” He fidgets a little. “Why am I here, and not at Sehun's rehabilitation centre?”

Lu Han arches an eyebrow at him. “Yes, indeed, why aren't you at Sehun's side?”

He hands Jongin a polaroid of the Seoul Rehabilitation Hospital with an address and a room number penned neatly at the bottom. Jongin realizes for the first time how good Lu Han is to everyone.

“Thank you,” he says, suddenly grateful. Lu Han waves a hand at him. “I mean, for everything,” Jongin finishes, and bolts out of the room.

He takes the stairs down three at a time, jumps the landings, and runs out across the crosswalk, weaving past people to hail down a taxi. He reads the address off the polaroid and leans back into his seat.

The fidgeting starts immediately after they begin driving. At first it's just him shifting positions in his seat, unable to find a spot comfortable enough, or maybe just too energetic to sit still.

His fingers drum on his knee, and then the armrest, and he stares out the window, watching the storefronts, buildings, and people who they drive by, thinking that each of them has their own little world, their own bubble, but all of their bubbles are touching each other and you can't lock yourself away forever.

He bites at his lip, and fiddles with his phone, too distracted to focus on any of the games, but too bouncy to simply do nothing and watch as the scenery goes by. Even his music doesn't interest him, no song can hold his attention long enough so he keeps skipping by them, and he doesn't find anything that he really wants to listen to. He is so impatient, so, so impatient to see Sehun. Jongin doesn't allow himself to second-guess himself, be hesitant, or question anything. After paying the cab driver, he runs out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and straight through the automatic door into the hospital.

“Excuse me, sir, may I ask you to slow down?” The receptionist barks out at him. Jongin looks at her and she points to a sign on the wall that indicates no running, and requests for quiet voices. He bows his head.

“If you don’t have a visitor’s pass, you should sign in here,” she says.

He approaches the desk in a speed walk and grabs the pen from her hand. She hands him a binder and points to where he needs to fill out his name, time of entrance, and guest number. Jongin scribbles in the answers almost illegibly and thanks the receptionist as she hands him a visitor’s pass. He slings it around his neck without a thought and almost breaks out into a jog again, before she clears her throat.

He excuses himself and finds his way to the elevator, giving the up button a jab, and adds several extra pushes as if that will get the elevator to him any faster. He taps his foot as he waits, wills them to move faster, counts the seconds it takes to get from floor to floor and calculates how long it is until one of them will arrive on the ground floor.

When it finally empties and Jongin gets on, he nearly closes the doors on a frail looking old man with a cane. He presses the doors-open button only in the nick of time, and even though they smile at each other, and he's thanked for holding the door open, Jongin still wishes that everything would move faster.

Going up the elevator seems to drag on even longer than it took for the elevator to arrive at the first floor. It feels like they stop at every other floor for someone to come on and smile at him, and every time he smiles back, the grin on his face is more and more strained.

An automated voice finally announces his level and he sprints out of the elevator doors, has to skid to a halt to avoid crashing into someone, and finally bursts through the door to Sehun's room in order to find him not there.

Zitao is sitting in a chair beside the bed with a glossy magazine spread across his lap. The page is open to something about nail art if the picture is any indication, but the writing is in Chinese and Jongin can’t understand it. Zitao looks passively at his fingernails and examines them. When he’s done scrutinizing them, he finally looks up at the open door and sees Jongin. If he's at all surprised by his presence, he doesn't show it on his face at all.

“Uh, wha-? What are you doing here? What? Where?” Jongin comments, confused.

“I'm glad to see you're as articulate as ever, Jongin!” Zitao says to him in a cheery voice, before looking back down at whatever he's reading.

“Where's...”

“Sehun is getting some much needed sunshine in the hospital courtyard,” Zitao says without looking up at him. Jongin is frozen as Zitao flips a page. “Hmm...” he says to himself, “My cuticles are in worse shape than I thought.”

Jongin is still rooted to the spot, at a loss.

After a moment, Zitao shuts the magazine closed and frowns. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asks in a huff. “Get going!”

Jongin doesn't need to be told that again, and doesn't bother trying to get ahold of an elevator this time. Instead, he takes the stairs down and follows the signs to the gardens. He bursts through the archway out into the courtyard and sees the figure of Sehun sitting for the first time in months. It’s the sight of him, so familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time that makes him stop himself. He stands there and can't help but call out, “Sehun-ah.”

There’s a moment that feels like eternity as Jongin’s voice carries and echoes around the arches surrounding the courtyard. The figure’s head stills, his back straightens, and he becomes rigid.

Sehun turns his head slowly over his left shower, to look back at where Jongin is standing. His hair blows gently in the spring breeze. Their eyes meet.

A million thoughts run through Jongin's mind. Things to say. Things to do. The past few months flash in front of his eyes, every word, every move, and every desire at Jongin's fingertips. He's imagined this moment since Lu Han first set his plan into motion, he's wanted it for longer than he knew. It's nothing like he imagined. He isn't sure and steady; Sehun isn't running back into his arms. There are so many variables. There are too many what ifs because of how long it's been since they last saw each other. It's been so long.

Too long.

They hold each other's gazes for a long time before their eye contact breaks. Almost at the exact same moment as Sehun looks away, Jongin averts his gaze to the ground. Jongin can hear his heart pounding in his chest, can feel his pulse even in his throat, and feels like he's about to collapse or explode. He can't decide which. Sehun turns back to face the garden in front of him, Jongin blinks and sees row upon row of huge blossoms in pink, yellow, red, and white.

Time slows, thick and viscous as it flows around them. Here, in this space, they are free from it, and time no longer matters to them.

A breath. Two breaths. Jongin doesn't breathe.

There's a moment of calm. It's broken suddenly.

“Hyung,” Sehun's voice calls. It isn't clear. It isn't filled with the arrogant confidence that Jongin is used to. When was the last time Sehun had called him hyung anyway?

“Hyung,” he calls out again, voice a little louder, with a little more assuredness as it rings through the courtyard, resounding off of brick and concrete, “The zinnias are blossoming beautifully this year, aren't they?”

The zinnias, thoughts of absent friends. White; goodness, scarlet; constancy, yellow; daily remembrance, pink; lasting affection. Not that Jongin knows what the meanings of the flowers are.

Sehun takes a deep shuddering breath, inhaling the air to force down the sob that's about to rise from his throat. It calms him enough to say, “They're spring blossoms, or at least that's what I was told. And yet, in the summer, you still see them in parks too. Somehow, they manage to survive for an entire two seasons. So I thought about that, and I guess they're the most resilient. They're waiting until every one of us has seen them before they shed their petals.”

A butterfly lands on one of them, and its colour matches the yellow of the flower. It's the same kind of butterfly as the one that had landed on Sehun's shoulder all those months ago, a yellow swallowtail with an intricate black and red pattern on its pale yellow wings.

Jongin takes a single step forward.

The butterfly does not fly away.

Jongin takes another step forward.

On the bench, Sehun is trembling. Gently, so that Jongin can't notice. He clasps his hands together, laces his fingers tightly and firmly. He rests his hands lightly on his lap. There's a thin beige blanket covering his legs, and it absorbs the few tears that Sehun can't clench back. He bows his head.

Jongin takes a step forward.

A chill runs through him. He wants to reach out, he wants to turn back, and he wants to, he wants - he wants a lot of things, but mostly he wants Sehun. If he'll have him.

“Hey, hyung,” Sehun says, and pauses. Jongin wishes he would stop with his hyung this and hyung that. It unnerves him, like there's a space between them, a chasm, a distance too wide to be crossed. But it can be closed. Jongin thinks. Jongin thinks that he would travel to the end of the universe and back to reach Sehun.

Had Sehun rehearsed his speech? He's not usually this articulate or rehearsed, much less insightful. Maybe it was just that Sehun had always been making profound observations without Jongin realizing. Sehun's playful immaturity had made it seem like there wasn't a grown young man underneath. Or, maybe, just maybe, and it breaks Jongin's heart to think about this, but while he was running away from doing what the mature thing would have been to do, Sehun had grown up without him.

And then, Sehun's soft voice cuts through the air and in its gentleness, pierces straight through Jongin's heart.

“Why won't you hurry up and look at me before my petals start to curl and fall too?”

Jongin takes a step forward.

And runs.

He feels like he's running forever, always chasing something he can't picture in his mind, but he's close, he's so close he can taste it, he reaches out his arm, and grabs it close.

Jongin halts suddenly behind Sehun and whispers his name, just once, not like he's ever called Sehun before.

“Sehun-ah,” he says. His voice is filled with love, inflected with pain, desire, guilt. It's gentle, and melancholic, desperate and firm. Sehun, he says, but he really means so many more things that he can't actually say, he wishes he could speak but he doesn't know how, and he hopes that Sehun can understand his heart without him voicing what's in it.

Sehun closes his eyes, shuts them so tightly. He feels alive, so alive, and wishes for himself to never wake up from this dream he's living.

Sehun closes his eyes and Jongin takes a step around to face him. He doesn't ask Sehun to open them. He looks, and looks, soaks up the sight of Sehun in front of him. Sehun is solid and real, it's no longer a dream, a picture, a memory, a shadow. He wishes he could breathe.

He falls.

Not in love, no, Jongin had fallen in love years and years ago.

He's crashing down, freefalling from the glass case he's built around himself to reality.

Falling, falling, and he sinks to his knees.

His fingers reach out slowly, arm shaking but heart unwavering. His touch is so gentle that Sehun doesn't even flinch when he feels the pads of Jongin's fingers tracing his cheekbone, thumb rubbing against his jawline.

Sehun opens his eyes and watches Jongin.

Jongin doesn't look him in the eye. He's staring at Sehun with fascination, like he's rediscovering Sehun. He cups his face, slides his hands down Sehun's neck, the index finger of his right hand brushing against Sehun's Adam's apple. He feels Sehun swallow, and brings his head to Sehun's shoulders. He grips them, before pressing against Sehun's arms, squeezes his biceps gently, and caresses the inside of Sehun's elbows with his thumbs. Sehun holds up his hands.

Sehun's tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips when Jongin presses their palms against each other, looking at the difference between the sizes of their fingers, eyes dark and intent. He clasps them together briefly before lowering his hands and ghosts over Sehun's thighs.

“I'm not going to break,” Sehun says but his voice begins to break even as he says it, and he thinks he's going to break into a million tiny pieces from the way Jongin is touching him as if he's fine china, delicate, fragile, and he thinks his heart is being crushed, the wall between them is still there even though they're touching, and he thinks he's going to be suffocated by its presence. And then Sehun does break when Jongin looks up and meets his eyes. Jongin's lips part and Sehun can't hold it in anymore, he can't, he can't, and he reaches out and pulls Jongin towards him, and Jongin, Jongin's been numb for months, but here, in Sehun's arms, he finally, finally breaks down and cries.

He hiccups and can't stop, cries, cries, and cries, Jongin cries until Sehun's shirt is soaked against him and he feels gross. His sobs are so intense that they wrack his entire body, and the tears that pour down his face won't let up, and he can't stop from heaving, making childish noises and he knows his face is a mess but he presses his cheek against Sehun's chest and clings to Sehun's waist. It feels desperate, so desperate, as if one if them is about to leave and they won't see each other for the rest of their lives instead of the exact opposite, instead of finally being together like this for the first time in months.

His throat is sore and his lips dry but he opens his mouth and says, “I'm sorry Sehun-ah, I'm sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry, so so sorry. I love you.” He repeats it, over and over again, like a mantra, and Sehun's tears are spilling down into Jongin's hair and Sehun can't control the expression on his face. For the sake of the other members, he's held back for so long, but here, here, he lets himself go and cries so genuinely that he can't tell if it's from grief or relief.

They stay like that for longer than either of them will ever care to admit, crying and hugging.

The sky is starting to turn pink when Jongin sits down beside Sehun. He tentatively leaves a small space between them, but Sehun secretly struggles to breach the gap between them and allows their thighs to touch. Sehun grins at Jongin and Jongin has to smile too.

It's another while longer before Jongin can speak again, voice scratchy. “I am sorry. All of this...It's my fault.”

Sehun narrows his eyes and turns to face Jongin. “Why...are you apologizing? What exactly are you talking about? What's your fault?”

“I, in the car, I should have, when we were sitting, I knew you were tired, and I should have made you sit beside Lu Han,” Jongin starts.

“If you were in the middle, if you were sitting where I was then none of this would have happened, if I hadn't been so fucking stupid, you wouldn't be here, you're closer with Lu Han hyung anyway, and I don't know why I thought I should sit in the middle considering I move around so much that someone leaning against me wouldn't be able to sleep, and you were so tired, and if you were in the middle then you wouldn't have been hurt, or at least, not too badly anyway, and then you'd be able to, like I don't know, dance, or something,” Jongin finishes in a rush and grips the edge of the bench tightly. He’s panting a little because he hadn’t paused to draw breath in the middle of his rambling.

To his surprise, Sehun laughs at him. His eyes curve and his mouth opens and he doesn't bother to cover it. The laugh is full and just as tinkling and beautiful sounding as Jongin had remembered it. And Jongin forgets why he’s laughing for a brief moment.

“That's stupid even for you, Jongin.”

Jongin’s eyes narrow. “Hey, wait a second.”

Sehun doesn't let him interrupt. “No one can wake up one morning and predict that someone will ram into your car that day. You can't change things like that. It's life. And whatever happens, happens. You can't take those things back, so you might as well try to move to a better future.”

Jongin is suddenly hit with a wave of regret of having missed watching Sehun grow and mature through this ordeal. Regrets not seeing him get up after a fall, and rising up to become someone much more wonderful than Jongin could ever deserve. It makes him realize the part of him that he's tried not to acknowledge for so long, the part of him that cared more than he wanted to let others know. He cared deeply and genuinely but he wasn't sure how to let that show.

For some reason, he wants to defend himself because that misconception has been what carried his avoidance for the entire time of his absence. He opens his mouth before he can form an argument in his head, but Sehun beats him.

“Even if you had let me sit beside Lu Han hyung, then you would have been in my place. You would have been lying in a hospital bed for eight weeks while none of the doctors let you do anything but sit up and lie down. And then you'd have to learn all this walking, running, dancing thing again and Jongin, I don't know if you've forgotten, but you fucking love dancing.”

Jongin splutters, “But you dance too!”

Sehun gives him a look. “I dance, but I dance because it's something to do. It's fun, I guess. But to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't really care about having to relearn movement. For you, if you had lost your entire range of motion in one leg, I don't think you would have been patient about it. You'd have been reckless and stupid, and we all know you can't handle sitting still for too long. I like dancing. But you, you don't just like dancing. It's not even just that you love dancing, but you need to dance.”

Jongin's mind flashes back to an interview room.

“Do you want to dance?” They asked him.

Jongin shook his head, and told them, “No, I need to dance.”

He thanked George Balanchine.

Even though there were months when they hadn't seen each other, Sehun knows Jongin better than Jongin knows himself.

“I'll be back soon, to my usual self I mean. I can already walk. It hurts if I walk for too long, but I'm working on it. I don't always improve from day to day. But slowly, week by week, I've learned to be a little bit more independent.”

Sehun bites his lip and turns to Jongin. “I won't pretend that it didn't hurt. It hurt. A lot. It still hurts. But nothing hurt as much as waking up without my best friend. Day after day, I hoped he would come visit me, and every single day I waited for him,” he says, trying to keep his voice as light as he can.

Jongin's breath hitches and he lowers his head.

Sehun continues, “I just wanted to tell him all the small things about my life. When the food was bad. When my ankle stopped giving me grief. When my knee stopped locking up. Every small improvement, I turned around and was excited to tell him and show him. But he wasn't there.”

He feels so ashamed of himself, and the regrets keep building and building. He had lost so much more than he thought he had.

“I was really sad when I never got to see him. I didn't know why he wasn't there. I couldn't figure out what it was that I had done wrong. But then one day, on the best day of my life, he showed up and I realized he was just being an idiot. I bet he thinks I still blame him, even know, after I've explained that I don't think anything's his fault. I bet he's still being an idiot.”

Sehun lifts Jongin's chin with one hand and touches his face with the other and kisses him. He kisses him slowly, sweetly, and simply. It’s a kiss that speaks of what was, what could have been, and what might be. Jongin brings a hand up behind Sehun's head and kisses back, softly. It's nothing like the sloppy, wet kisses of two horny boys seeking release under the sheets late at night. The feeling is strange and new and makes his skin tingle. For the first time in his life, he understands what people mean when they say they feel butterflies in their stomach.

Sehun breaks the kiss and raises an eyebrow. He looks at Jongin seriously and says, “But you know what, Jongin-ah? I really, really really, really really really love that idiot.”

He leans forward and presses their lips together again and Jongin feels complete.

Jongin will never forgive Lu Han for sneaking up on them and taking a picture of them then. It was a private moment, and something he thinks is too intimate to be shared. The privacy breach feels worse than if Lu Han secretly filmed a sex tape of them together (and Jongin isn’t one to put that quite past Lu Han).

“You really couldn’t have, I don’t know, left us alone for us to have like a peaceful reconciliation? Like what a normal person would have done?” Jongin huffs.

Lu Han argues “But it was time for dinner! The meals are timed, and Sehun hadn’t come back to his room so I was looking for him in case something bad happened because you were being stupid again.”

(“I am not stupid!”)

“So I was going to interrupt you anyway, and then I saw you guys and it was just too cute! I couldn’t pass up a moment like that, those times are when my camera comes in handy the most.” Jongin probably would have relented a little bit if Lu Han hadn’t taken that moment to pinch his cheek.

Sehun just laughs at him.

Jongin definitely does not request for a copy of the polaroid afterward.

Upon Jongin’s return to the dorms, the general consensus by the rest of the members seems to be to act like nothing had happened, and pretend that Jongin hadn’t disappeared for half a year.

Yixing is the first one who greets him brightly.

“I, well I mean, uh, so if you get some like, free time, can you uh, help me? Uh, help me work on um, choreography?”

Jongin agrees readily and is awed by how Yixing’s smile stays on his face for the next few days, unfazed by the spill Kyungsoo had made after flinching violently and knocking over the water jug when Jongin attempted to drape his arm around his neck.

Later, at dinner, Minseok pushes Jongin’s hand out of the way for last piece of kimchi and when Jongin opens his mouth to protest, Minseok pushes the chopsticks into Jongin’s mouth and Jongin almost chokes. He chews on the kimchi gratefully and pats Minseok on the cheek.

“You need to be careful,” Minseok says to him. “I think Lu Han is rubbing off on you.”

“Never,” Jongin replies. “I will never be a fan of Manchester United,” he swears.

Jongdae is more confident and outspoken about making Joonmyeon’s life miserable at every given opportunity. He corners Joonmyeon outside the bathroom and Jongin catches him hissing, “If you do not clean your shit up off the goddamn floor, so help me god I will take a damn picture of your collection of silk thongs and send it to all of the anti-cafes and you can pay to keep them silent.”

Jongin tilts his head and files that bit of information away for future use.

Wu Fan disappears for Skype dates with someone he insists is his mother, but Jongin knows no one likes to talk to their parents more than once a week.

Chanyeol and Baekhyun are more annoying than ever after Jongin had gotten to living in relative silence. They also seem disposed to including Jongin in their loudest games and refuse to let Jongin go to bed even when he tells them he has a headache.

“Are you kidding me? It’s like, midnight! We have so many hours left, and you want to sleep?” Baekhyun says, bewildered.

Chanyeol punches Jongin in the arm, harder than strictly necessary, and Jongin whimpers.

Zitao is the only person who really confronts him about his absence.

“Jongin-ah, you haven’t showered yet right? You better show with me or else the water will be cold by the time it’s your turn.”

Jongin thinks it’s harmless because it’s the exact kind of behaviour they’ve all come to expect from him.

He is so very wrong. He’s in the middle of rinsing shampoo out of his hair when he feels something pointy jab into his ribs. It’s Zitao’s elbow. He looks up, perplexed.

“So everyone knows that you and Sehun are a thing. And that’s fine, it’s cute, but.” Zitao narrows his eyes.

“You really fucked up badly,” Zitao says and Jongin wants to know who taught him to swear.

“So if you hurt Sehun ever again, I will kill you.” He points the shampoo bottle at Jongin aggressively and Jongin just nods vigorously and speeds up his shower process to get out of the small, enclosed space with Zitao.

He runs out of the shower as fast as he can to find Chanyeol on the sofa talking in a voice quieter than he’s ever heard Chanyeol speak in his life. Baekhyun is ignoring him for whatever is on TV.

“Thanks for that, by the way. I’ll text you to see when I can try to sneak out next. Of course. Yeah,” Chanyeol finishes and hangs up.

“Who was that?” Jongin asks as soon as Chanyeol hangs up and Chanyeol jumps. Baekhyun looks at them from the corner of his eye.

“Man, don’t scare people like that!”

Jongin is undeterred. “Who was that?”

“I-”

Baekhyun begins to giggle.

“That was your girlfriend wasn’t it?”

Baekhyun cackles.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be angry too!”

“What?” Jongin asks, taking a pause from laughing.

“Baekhyun refused to talk to me for weeks when he found out.”

He looks at Baekhyun who shakes his head and can’t stop laughing.

“Apparently I’m supposed to tell my best friend when I have a girlfriend, what kind of obligation is that?”

Jongin gets the last laugh.

SM doesn’t hold a press conference until eight months after the accident, when Sehun can finally start running again on his own. Actually, it might have nothing to do with Sehun being able to run again. Jongin doesn’t really understand the way their company or management works, and doesn’t think he’ll ever figure that out while he’s a member of EXO.

“It’ll be in a week. Joonmyeon, Wu Fan, prepare to be present there. Here are the standard questions and replies. Study them,” their manager says.

Jongin pipes up for reasons unknown. “Can I be there?”

Wu Fan’s jaw drops and Jongin wonders if that was a bad idea.

Their manager looks at him, “Um, yeah I’ll talk to management. We’ll see.”

Before he realizes what’s going on, he’s being given a thirty page briefing that he’s supposed to not only memorize, but be able to make his own.

“Jonginnie is taking on responsibilities!” Joonmyeon says, ecstatic.

Jongin looks at the stack of paper in his hands and quietly mourns his free time.

Luckily, his face does not break out the morning of the conference. They walk into the room and Jongin almost falls off his chair when he sits down because there is a lot more camera flashing than Jongin is capable of handling. Their representative says a bunch of fancy and useless words, and apologizes for EXO’s sudden hiatus and the delay of their return. More cameras flash. His explanation about Sehun’s injury is close to nonexistent and the press scribble it all down. There will be a lot more speculating, but at least SM isn’t just hiding anymore. Will they stop taking pictures of them?

“Suho-ssi, can you please present a message to the fans?” A reporter asks. Suho is all leader and business-like when he responds. Jongin resists the urge to roll his eyes and tunes out whatever’s being said. He suddenly wishes he never asked to be here in the first place. No wonder why Wu Fan had looked at him so funny.

He could be in a studio with Yixing right now. Or eating. Or sleeping. Or gaming even. He’s in the middle of generating a list of things he could be doing when he hears his name and is startled out of his thoughts.

“Kai-ssi,” a reporter says, “please tell us how Sehun’s injury is affecting EXO right now.”

The reply is not from Kai, nor does it represent EXO. It is Kim Jongin who says, “Our Sehun-ah is the most precious person in the world to us right now. We will show him our love to give him strength.” He means it from the bottom of his heart.