Porcelain { Two }
Title: Porcelain
Rating: NC-17/R
Pairing: SeKai + SuChen
Summary: The year is 1913. Kim Jongin and Kim Jongdae are footman for Foxcombe House, owned by the Wu family who migrated to England following the success of Kristopher Wu's business in both Shanghai and London. He and his heiress wife, Jessica, now own the estate much to the distaste of the locals. A certain runaway from Seoul appears on the doorstep and suddenly the Kim brothers' lives are turned inside-out, destined to end in ruin.
Inspired by the era of Downton Abbey and a certain old manor in Sussex, England, with an eerie story to tell.
{ PROLOGUE } { ONE }
Chapter Two
Sehun didn’t quite know what to think when he awoke the next morning. It was more than a little disorientating waking from his slumber in a strange room he couldn’t remember moving in to and with the face of someone he didn’t recognise painted behind his eyes. His fingertips traced the faint lines of his palm in the hopes of rekindling a warm memory that teased his senses. Had he dreamt it? Or had it been real? He didn’t know for sure.
Mr Kim had explained that the morning would be far too hectic to begin any formal training so, as he was instructed, Sehun meandered through the confusing corridors and hurried shapes to report to the butler for something a little less taxing.
He handed Sehun a lead with a German Shepherd attached to the end of it. “Twice around the grounds should do it. Don’t wonder too far, we don’t want you getting lost on your first day!”
Mr Kim then flashed a friendly smile and continued on his way, leaving Sehun with the furry beast staring up at him with its mouth wide open and a shiny tongue hanging out of the corner.
“They want me to walk the dog,” he muttered to himself in disbelief, tugging the leash slightly and heading out the servant’s entrance. “Of course they do…”
In a way, he was relieved. The butterflies in his stomach had churned his meagre breakfast into a stodgy clump that clung to his insides and weighed his entire body down with worry. Foxcombe seemed to run like a well-oiled machine and Sehun couldn’t afford to be the crooked gear that sent everything into haywire. He certainly had the experience but every grand home was different and being in a strange country made things even more so. Being fired wasn’t an option, neither was going home. Not anymore.
But walking the dog he could handle. There wasn’t anything that could go wrong with something so menial.
Or so he thought.
Sehun had barely stepped onto the grass when his body suddenly lurched backwards and his feet halted. The dog had decided to stop walking altogether and park itself in one spot. To make things worse, it didn’t matter how hard Sehun jerked on the lead, it still didn’t want to move.
He exhaled through teeth clenched shut with frustration. “Don’t do this to me, please. Not now.”
Sehun dug his heels into the soil and pulled harder, yearning for the beast to get back onto its feet, but it just sat there and stared at him with watery eyes. He tried whistling and softening his voice and cooing it over with a curl of his finger but nothing seemed to be working. He huffed, clawing a hand through his hair.
And then a voice rang out to his left.
“Do you need any help?”
One of the other members of staff was leaning against the side of the house, watching through thinned eyes and flicking cigarette ash onto the ground.
“No, thank you. I’m fine,” Sehun called back.
Now trying to coax the dog into moving was an embarrassing spectacle that he didn’t want to have to live through. It didn’t help that he was running out of ideas. He had half a mind to pick the dog up and carry it around the gardens but his arms would probably have broken off so he decided against it.
Eventually the stranger pushed themselves off the wall, stubbed their cigarette into the ground, and walked over with long, determined strides. There was something about the dark eyes that peered over the upturned coat collar that seemed oddly familiar.
“You need this.” He pulled some meat scraps from his pocket and the dog’s long tongue lapped happily at his fingers. “Unless your name is Kristopher Wu, Jack doesn’t move for anything less.” The stranger offered his clean hand forward. “I’m Kim Jongin.”
Sehun clasped his palm. “Oh Sehun.”
“I know.”
His stomach jittered. Sehun knew that face; the face of the stranger that leaned over him in the darkness and soothed his fears away. He’d recognise those lips from anywhere. He was both washed with relief that he hadn’t imagined their encounter and rendered breathless by the fact that their hands were still touching.
Their fingers broke away at the same time and Jongin flashed a smirk before continuing to walk across the grass, Jack running at his heels. Sehun wasn’t sure what to do with himself for a moment and then he jogged to catch up. Something was playing on his mind.
“About last night…I’m sorry if-”
“You didn’t wake anybody up,” Jongin cut in, slowing his pace. “I was in and out of sleep anyway. I wouldn’t worry.”
That was a lie, although why he would lie about it was a mystery. Sehun bowed his head, eyes fixed on the ground in front of his feet. “I dread to think about what you must have thought…”
“I thought you were going to seriously hurt yourself.” He stopped walking for a moment to pick up a twig and threw it into the air for Jack to chase after. “Does it happen…often? Do you do that a lot?”
Sehun bit down on his lip. He was reluctant to spew his secrets to someone he barely knew, but something about the way Jongin had held his hand just then and the night before told him that, perhaps, he was someone to be trusted. At least with a slice of the truth; the part he could handle.
“Only occasionally. It gets a lot worse if I’m ever stressed or nervous or angry before I fall asleep. It’s been happening more often recently, but I thought-”
He cut himself off that time, feeling his throat tighten.
“You thought what?” asked Jongin with genuine curiosity.
Sehun avoided his gaze. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
They were nearing the end of the manicured lawns now. There was a strip of wild forest that bordered the grounds but they didn’t slow their steps. If Sehun had looked behind him, he would’ve witnessed the wonder of Foxcombe shining under broken sunshine small enough to fit between his outstretched index finger and thumb. Instead he kept his slanted eyes on Jongin and the sliver of neck, the colour of rich honey, that flashed through the gap in his collar.
“So what is it? Nightmares?”
He let a sigh escape through his parted lips as Jongin lead him into the undergrowth.
“Something like that.”
♦♦♦
The trees were thick with budding foliage. Jack stuck his nose between the gnarled, mossy roots, merrily wagging his tail, while Jongin jumped and climbed expertly across them like some race of forest nymph without a fear of slipping. All the while he fired questions at Sehun who was busy trying to amble safely over the uneven floor and not fall on his face.
“Where are you from?”
“Seoul.”
“Why did you come here?”
Sehun leant the nearest thick trunk and dug his fingers into the bark to keep his balance. “Why are you so interested?”
“You’re shiny and new, it’s exciting,” Jongin smiled. “We haven’t had a fresh face at Foxcombe in a while. Do you not like talking about yourself?”
“Not really.”
To that, Jongin laughed and jumped down onto a clearing of grass that shone bright in the speckled sunlight. The weather was getting a little warmer so he unbuttoned his coat to flap the air against his chest. A light breeze ruffled his hair and carried with it the fresh scent of spring from the sprinkles of blue and lilac that littered the forest floor; bluebells and hyacinths battling for the misty sunlight, still glistening with morning dew.
Sehun’s brows knitted together. “What’s so funny?”
“You. You’re so…mysterious. I like that,” he said as mischief tugged at a corner of his lips and Sehun’s stomach did a summersault.
Suddenly Jongin’s grin melted away. “Wait, where’s Jack?” He looked around him, eyes searching through the deep sea of green and brown. “I thought you had him.”
Sehun shook his head. “No, you had hold of his lead, right?”
“Crap,” Jongin swore. “Jack! Come ‘ere, boy! Jack!” He cupped his hands over his mouth and started shouting and whistling as he leapt into the jungle. Sehun cursed under his breath and ran after him, barely missing the knobs of root and rock sticking out of the earth.
Eventually, with voices strained and throats sore, they caught sight of Jack’s fur through the carpet of ferns. Only, he wasn’t alone. Two boys from the village were smiling and laughing and stroking his back and ears. One had tawny hair and thick freckles scattered across his nose while the other was crowned with blonde that shone gold like the sun. Both looked up as Sehun and Jongin approached and their faces dropped. The little colour under their skin drained away, their wide eyes gawked in silence and then looked at each other before dashing away.
“Why do they look at us like that?” Sehun asked.
“They were probably wondering the same thing. C’mon,” Jongin nudged his ribs, “let’s get back to the House.”
♦♦♦
There was something about the way that Jongdae marched out of the house with thinned lips and fists scrunched at his side that told Jongin he was a little less than happy about something.
“Where the hell have you been?” The elder grabbed a fistful of Jongin’s collar and dragged him back towards the servant’s entrance, nostrils flaring. “We’re literally moments from serving breakfast and you’re out gallivanting only God knows where. Do you have any idea how much I have had to do while you’ve been playing in the damned dirt? Look at your shoes! I swear, you better get yourself cleaned up before his Lordship sees you looking like a state or I will serve your head on a platter.”
Jongdae continued to stomp his way down the servant’s corridor with Jongin in hand until they reached their shared room and he shoved the younger inside. Flustered, Jongin quickly removed his coat, scrubbed the outside of his shoes and flattened his hair. Jongdae was waiting outside the door when he emerged and clung to his upper arm to drag him to the kitchens.
“Ouch! Jongdae, that hurts! What are you doing? Let go!” Jongin winced at the fingertips that dug into his skin.
“As the first footman I can do what I like. As your older brother, it’s my prerogative.”
“Not by blood.”
As soon as the words flew off his forked tongue, Jongin longed to suck them back down his throat. Instead they hung in the air between them as Jongdae’s face fell and the hurt stung in his eyes. Jongin reached forward but he pulled back.
“I’m sorry Jongdae, I didn’t m-”
“Take this upstairs.” Jongdae shoved a plate of herbed eggs and bacon into his hands and stalked off through the crowd of bustling staff.
Jongin’s stomach sunk.
The day had started so perfectly.
♦♦♦
When Sehun was finally handed his livery, he was more than satisfied. The shirt and waistcoat clung to his tight frame comfortably with enough room to move. The jacket broadened his shoulders and made him look older and more handsome, he thought. Jongin had settled on the edge of the spare bed, bent forward and watching over his hands linked together in front of him. He’d been spending a lot of time in that room recently, not that Sehun was complaining.
Although seeing his face around so often was a little distracting.
“What do you think? This looks okay, right?” Sehun turned from the mirror with his arms open to showcase his new look.
When Jongin twirled his finger and Sehun obliged, spinning on the spot, he bit back a chuckle that vibrated from his throat. “You look fine. Except for one thing.”
He stood up and walked over to fiddle with the bowtie resting under Sehun’s chin. The sudden closeness made Sehun hold his breath and turn his head slightly to the side. “You keep tying it crooked. You have to keep it straight. Understand?”
“Straight. Not crooked. Got it,” he croaked with shaky breath.
“Your hair, too.” Jongin tucked a loose strand behind his ear and pressed it into place. “It needs to be permanently neat and flat, otherwise Joonmyun will have your neck.”
He wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but Sehun was certain he saw Jongin’s eyes trace the space between the collarbones under his collar and his jawline before finally landing on his mouth for a heart-stopping moment.
“Neat and flat,” he repeated. “D-done.”
He allowed himself a single glance at the pair of lips that teased him so close yet so far from his skin, plump and slightly parted, but he just couldn’t keep his mind sinking to the thought of how warm they would feel against his own.
“Sehun…” Jongin mouthed. His hand still lingered above Sehun’s ear.
Then the door abruptly swung open and they jumped apart. Mr Kim’s angelic face peered around the frame.
“Are you ready?”
“Y-yeah,” Sehun stammered, the blood rushing to his cheeks. He didn’t have to look around to see Jongin biting down a smirk as he followed the butler without a word.
♦♦♦
Mr Kim lead him up the servant’s stairs, across the entrance hall and into the large room adjacent to the dining room. It was quiet now; the house barely rang with a single hum. Soon the echo of chaos would reawaken once the dinner gong was sounded, but not quite yet.
Sehun recognised the room as the first he set his eyes on that night his bones were drenched and shivered from the cold. Even then he’d barely taken the time to absorb it all; he’d been far too exhausted. Dark wood and emerald drapes were revealed under the dim light that filtered through the windows. Mr Kim guided him to the back of the room where a large, glass cabinet stood against the far wall, tall and proud, and a girl with long, silky hair sat in front cleaning its shining contents. She looked up and smiled shyly as they approached.
“This is Seo Joohyun,” said Joonmyun. “She’s often in charge of cleaning the precious items from His Lordship’s personal collection. I thought you could give her a hand and learn the ropes, so to speak.”
He handed Sehun a pair of white gloves before leaving. Sehun slipped them over his hands and stepped back a little to take in what was presented before him. On each of the three shelves stood an array of porcelain pieces, each pale in colour and decorated with colourful designs depicting scenes from nature or folklore. There were dishes and jugs and even figurines shaped into dancers with swirling dresses.
He met Joohyun’s kind eyes. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” She offered him a cloth.
“Yes. Very much so.”
Sehun unlatched the centre compartment and made to pick up a small saucer decorated in cerulean cloud swirls and shapes.
“Be careful. They’re very old and very delicate.”
“Right, of course.” He pulled his arm back, clearing his throat. “Where are they from?”
“South China. Just outside of Liling, Hunan province, from my understanding. Some are said to be hundreds of years old. Although, that one,” she pointed to the tall vase at the back of the middle shelf, “is said to have been painted by His Lordship’s very own hands.”
Sehun reached forward with a gloved hand to pull the vase towards him and cradle it against his fingers. He followed the intricate design with the tip of his nail under the fabric - strokes of crimson and burnt gold shone out from the shiny, ivory canvas and swirled together in the form of a majestic and mystical creature that curled its elongated body around the vase’s neck.
“A red dragon. It’s the symbol of the Wu family’s trade,” Joohyun explained, gently wiping the surface of a ceramic plate dotted with decorative flowers and birds.
He scrunched the cloth and began dusting its pearly exterior. “You seem to know a lot about it,” Sehun observed.
“His Lordship is kind enough to let the staff borrow some of the books from his library. In fact, he encourages it. There’s a whole section on the history of porcelain and its production. His family are mentioned more than a few times.”
Sehun took the time to look around and drink in the scale of knowledge that peered down from every inch of the library walls; row upon row of leather spines printed with flaking titles and holding worn pages waiting to be fingered through. Near the middle of the room, by one of the towering windows, sat the desk where he’d been interviewed and too scared to breathe a single word. He was probably too busy trying to keep his throat unstuck and his hands trembling to notice all the books before. It was almost a little intimidating.
“Maybe I’ll tackle that another time,” he mumbled.
♦♦♦
Jongdae wasn’t an idiot. In fact, he was far from it.
He knew full well what he was feeling was jealousy, and it stung.
It hurt to watch as Jongin scampered after Sehun like a puppy…and the puppy actually wanted to play in return. Jongdae had watched the two of them circle each other flirtatiously for barely a few days and already it was becoming too much. He shouldn’t have been angry, he should’ve been happy for his brother but it was difficult. He’d been at Foxcombe for almost 2 years already…why hadn’t this happened to him?
Always lurking in doorways, always stealing glances across the room, always trying to impress him with a smile and a few extra miles…and yet he remained unnoticed. Joonmyun never showed him the time of day. It was staring to grind on his heartstrings, being so invisible.
Jongdae sat on his bed, legs bent over the side, and mused over these feelings for what felt like the thousandth time while the same images flickered across his mind - Jongin and Sehun walking through the gardens together on his first morning, the looks they exchanged when they passed in the corridors, the way Joonmyun never even looked up when he handed him the ironed newspapers every morning…what did he have to do?
Why can’t we have what they have?
What makes us so unlucky?
Sighing, Jongdae slipped his hand under the mattress and pulled out a wad of writing paper and a pen, kept hidden away from prying eyes. He knew he had to be more obvious, he knew he had to say something, anything, but he couldn’t do it.
Not to Joonmyun’s face, at least.
Instead, he would write him letters. Not every day, not even very long letters, but letters all the same. He’d sit under flickering candle light and scratch his feelings with ink onto the pages in the hopes that, one day, he’ll even deliver them himself.
Perhaps then Joonmyun would turn around any mutter the words he so longed to hear.
When the door suddenly flew open, Jongdae jumped and shoved the paper under his thighs, but it was too late. Jongin had already seen.
He halted by the door frame. “Who are you writing to?”
“Nobody,” Jongdae lied. Badly.
Jongin exhaled with defeat. “Please don’t lie to me. I apologized for what I said.”
Jongdae cleared his throat and dug sharp nails into his legs. He didn’t want to lie. Again.
“Home.”
To that, Jongin shook his head. “This is our home now, Jongdae. Not there. Don’t do this to yourself.”
Jongdae nodded, but his insides tightened.
He had no idea how wrong he was.
♦♦♦
Jongin had planned it all.
He ate quickly and half-watched Sehun scoffing his own lumpy stew over his cutlery. It was hardly gourmet cuisine but Jongin was grateful for it nonetheless. The cook always did well with what she had, no matter how little was left for the servants. The warm gravy managed to quell the flittering in his stomach if only temporarily.
Because tonight was the night that Jongin would finally get Sehun alone without a single distraction.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried already. He’d been well and truly stuck to Sehun’s side for the new footman’s first week at Foxcombe, he couldn’t deny it. But every opportunity for the two of them to spend some quality time alone together had been disturbed by Joonmyun or Jongdae or, even worse, Mrs Kwon. Jongin was getting a little tired of being rattled by his peers, as though everyone was against him. Each night that Sehun had retreated to bed he’d come so close to slipping inside with him, but every time he’d chickened out. He was cursed to watch as Mr Kim dragged Sehun from one menial job to the next and for Jongdae’s gaze to be permanently locked on them, like a hawk. But not this night.
When Sehun had finished his meal and stood up from the table, Jongin made sure to do the same. He picked up his bowl, threw it by the sink and followed him out of the door.
“Psst!” He ushered him over with a wave of his hand.
“I’ve got plans for us tonight. Meet me after lights out. I’ll be waiting outside your door.” After Sehun had furrowed his eyebrows for a couple of seconds and finally nodded, he added with an outstretched hand, “Promise?”
Sehun shook his palm, sure and strong, and whispered, “I promise.”
Jongin felt the tug on the corner of his mouth.
“That’s the spirit.”
♦♦♦
Foxcombe had a history; a very colourful history. Dark tales had passed between the lips of the inhabitants over the centuries, evolving into bone-chilling fables with barely a pinch of truth to them. Still, that didn’t stop them being remembered and passed down through the generations of owners and their staff. Jongin wanted to initiate Sehun into his precious, new home through the means of these stories and, preferably, get a decent laugh out of the experience by the end.
He waited for Jongdae’s breathing to quieten and Joonmyun to pass down the corridor, turning all the lights out as he went. When all seemed still, Jongin emerged from under the sheets and tiptoed out the door, being careful to click the door behind him with as little noise as possible.
He positioned himself outside Sehun’s door and waited. A couple of minutes had ticked by and Jongin silently feared the boy had fallen asleep. He was close to knocking when the door finally opened and he exhaled with relief. As soon as Sehun stepped out, Jongin placed a single finger on his lips.
“Shhh…” he breathed before beckoning him to follow.
Eventually they reached the door to the female staff’s wing. Jongin pulled out a long key from his pocket and Sehun tugged frantically on his shirt.
“What are you doing? This is the girl’s dorms!”
“We’re just passing through,” Jongin whispered, reluctantly batting his hand away.
He slipped the key into the lock and twisted with care. Even though Mrs Kwon didn’t sleep on the same floor as the lower servant girls, she had supernatural hearing and would skin them both alive if she found them snooping around at night with the spare key he’d stolen from Joonmyun’s office.
The door he was looking for stood at the end of the girl’s corridor, tucked into the wall. It was old, practically ancient, and creaked annoyingly loud when opened. Jongin cringed as the sound echoed off the empty walls and prayed nobody would wake up. Nothing seemed to stir. So far, so good.
It was almost pitch black so he had to trust his hands to guide their way. He felt behind him to find Sehun’s fingers and pull him gently forward, kicking the ground lightly as he went to indicate stone steps leading further underground. Neither of them were barely uttering a breath. The descent wasn’t long but it was steep and twisted so Jongin stroked the wall as he walked to keep his balance, not once letting go of Sehun’s warm skin. He could practically hear the new boy’s heartbeat reverberating against his ribs behind him.
When they reached the bottom, Jongin felt along the floor and grabbed at two candlesticks pushed by the wall. He’d been here before and always made sure to leave them in the same place. Nobody else dared to set foot so far underground so they were rarely used. He pushed one into Sehun’s grasp, replacing his own hand, and felt deep into his pockets for the matches.
He struck it hard and the bobbing flame illuminated Sehun’s pale face.
“Where are we?” he asked as Jongin lit his candle.
“Take a look.”
Sehun slanted his eyes and used the fire in his hands to lighten the space around him.
“It’s just a corridor - like the one above, like the dorms…” he mused, peering around. “Why did you bring me here?”
Jongin shrugged and continued walking. “I thought it would be fun.”
Sehun was right; it was just like the corridor a floor above their heads with doors leading to bare rooms on either side. Except this corridor was empty and unused and smelled awfully damp and dingy in the darkness.
“These were dorms, too, once. A century ago, or so.” Jongin turned dramatically, placing the candle directly under his chin to bathe his face in eerie shadows. “Until something terrible happened here.”
Sehun gasped but then his gaze thinned sceptically. “You’re making this up.”
“Am I?” Jongin leaned so close to Sehun’s body he could feel the tickle of his breath against his cheek. Into his ear, he breathed, “Or are you just scared?”
“I’m not sca-!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down!” His fingers flew to Sehun’s lips a second time, pressing them together. “We don’t want to wake the ghost.”
Sehun made a sound like a mouse being stepped on and Jongin had to resist the temptation to laugh out loud. This was turning out to be more fun than he imagined.
He put his hand down and they fell into step. “The story goes that he locked himself away in his room, down here, in the dead of night…to take his own life.”
“W-why? Why would he do that?”
“Because of a broken heart, of course. What else would drive a man to such a wicked end?”
Sehun gulped, his breath harsh and pupils large as his wide eyes scanned the darkness in the flame’s weak glow. Most of the doors were closed and hid their barren interiors from prying eyes. A couple, however, had been left mid-swing to reveal the shadows lurking within.
“So his g-ghost…have people seen it?”
Jongin nodded. “He wanders the House at night…searching for his lost love…”
He paused outside one of the rooms with its entrance lying ajar. Sehun looked at him expectantly but Jongin kept his face blank. Just as he expected, Sehun swallowed and stepped forward to push tentatively at the door with his fingertips.
“Is this-…is this his room? Is this where he-?”
There were a hundred ghost stories tied to Foxcombe’s web of history. Jongin didn’t believe a single one of them. He didn’t care for ghosts or goblins or gigantic hounds or whatever else the locals had come up with. What he did care about, however, was now sucking in every word he said and wandering with shaking steps into a room that hadn’t been slept in or used in several decades. Nobody knew why. Perhaps the owners decided they didn’t need that many members of staff after all. Either way, he’d never seen a ghost. But he did see a boy with a strong nose and high cheekbones and a permanent nonchalant expression that powered the machine that made his heart pump.
Foxcombe had become so boring, so predictable. An enigma with collarbones to die for was just what Jongin wanted, what Jongin needed.
“It’s so cold,” Sehun muttered, his trembling hands making the light flicker. “Isn’t it suddenly really, really cold?”
Jongin smirked and blew out his candle, fading into the darkness.
Sehun turned around. “Jongin? Jongin, where did you go?”
His panicked expression was priceless - those small eyes suddenly round like disks, darting with panic, and his skin almost translucent, drained of all blood. He threw out the hand holding the flame and searched desperately in the unknown.
“This isn’t funny! Jongin!” he hissed.
Jongin had to place a hand across his own mouth to stop himself giggling. He just looked far too adorable, lost and confused in the dark. How far could he take it?
“I’m s-serious, Jongin, where are you?” He turned on the spot and started walking fast, back the way they came. Jongin took this opportunity to follow silently behind and as soon as he was close enough…
He grabbed at Sehun’s waist and breathed, “I knew you were scared.”
Sehun jumped a foot in the air, almost dropping his candlestick, and yelped at Jongin’s touch. At the sight of him of him doubling over with laughter, Sehun scrunched up his face and began hitting him repeatedly.
“You idiot! I thought the ghost had got you or something, dick!”
Jongin threw up his arms. “Stop! Stop! I’m sorry, really!” But he couldn’t keep them up for long - his stomach hurt from laughing too much and it only angered Sehun more.
Until something echoed from the stairs and they both froze.
“W-what…was that noise…?”
Jongin managed to move his limbs to stand from falling in hilarity. Suddenly things weren’t so funny anymore when he realised that they only had one candle lit between them now and the dark was really quite suffocating after a while.
“It was probably just the wind b-blowing the door shut. It was nothing.”
Nevertheless, he grabbed Sehun’s arm and they retreated until their backs hit the wall. Jongin didn’t want to admit that he was shaking so hard, or that he couldn’t stop himself panting in fright. To calm his nerves, he looked across to watch Sehun lean his head back on the hard surface, revealing a long neck and prominent Adam’s apple. It shone only slightly with sweat. It was enough to make Jongin forget all about the strange noise from the stairwell. Now he was scared for an entirely different reason.
Sehun caught his gaze. As his head turned, their noses were barely an inch apart. “What? What are you looking at?”
“You’re so cute when you’re terrified,” Jongin uttered, bringing a single finger to stroke along Sehun’s jaw. He half-expected him to flinch at the touch, but he didn’t. His skin was so smooth under the roughness of Jongin’s fingertip. Where had something so precious been all his life?
“Aren’t you? Aren’t you…terrified?” Sehun’s eyes definitely fell to his lips.
Jongin actually felt himself smiling. “More than you know.”
Before he could rationalise what he was doing and give in to the fear that would otherwise curdle any desires stirring in his chest, Jongin gripped Sehun’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled the boy’s lips onto his own.
Their mouths collided, not roughly but with intent. He saw the surprise in Sehun’s face the second before he closed his eyes and prayed he wouldn’t pull away. He didn’t. In fact, Sehun only pressed himself harder against Jongin’s chest, now clutching at his side with his free hand and breathing hard. As their lips parted and wet tongues slid against each other, Jongin pushed him up against the wall and fingered a rogue hand through Sehun’s hair, clinging so firmly. Every moan that vibrated against from Sehun’s throat sent the nerves in his groin into haywire and he longed to rip every thread of clothing from his slim body and taste every contour between his bones.
In the end, even Sehun’s fingers couldn’t hold their grip as the candle fell to the ground and the flame winked out, leaving their bodies to melt together in the darkness.
{ Chapter Three }
Rating: NC-17/R
Pairing: SeKai + SuChen
Summary: The year is 1913. Kim Jongin and Kim Jongdae are footman for Foxcombe House, owned by the Wu family who migrated to England following the success of Kristopher Wu's business in both Shanghai and London. He and his heiress wife, Jessica, now own the estate much to the distaste of the locals. A certain runaway from Seoul appears on the doorstep and suddenly the Kim brothers' lives are turned inside-out, destined to end in ruin.
Inspired by the era of Downton Abbey and a certain old manor in Sussex, England, with an eerie story to tell.
{ PROLOGUE } { ONE }
Chapter Two
Sehun didn’t quite know what to think when he awoke the next morning. It was more than a little disorientating waking from his slumber in a strange room he couldn’t remember moving in to and with the face of someone he didn’t recognise painted behind his eyes. His fingertips traced the faint lines of his palm in the hopes of rekindling a warm memory that teased his senses. Had he dreamt it? Or had it been real? He didn’t know for sure.
Mr Kim had explained that the morning would be far too hectic to begin any formal training so, as he was instructed, Sehun meandered through the confusing corridors and hurried shapes to report to the butler for something a little less taxing.
He handed Sehun a lead with a German Shepherd attached to the end of it. “Twice around the grounds should do it. Don’t wonder too far, we don’t want you getting lost on your first day!”
Mr Kim then flashed a friendly smile and continued on his way, leaving Sehun with the furry beast staring up at him with its mouth wide open and a shiny tongue hanging out of the corner.
“They want me to walk the dog,” he muttered to himself in disbelief, tugging the leash slightly and heading out the servant’s entrance. “Of course they do…”
In a way, he was relieved. The butterflies in his stomach had churned his meagre breakfast into a stodgy clump that clung to his insides and weighed his entire body down with worry. Foxcombe seemed to run like a well-oiled machine and Sehun couldn’t afford to be the crooked gear that sent everything into haywire. He certainly had the experience but every grand home was different and being in a strange country made things even more so. Being fired wasn’t an option, neither was going home. Not anymore.
But walking the dog he could handle. There wasn’t anything that could go wrong with something so menial.
Or so he thought.
Sehun had barely stepped onto the grass when his body suddenly lurched backwards and his feet halted. The dog had decided to stop walking altogether and park itself in one spot. To make things worse, it didn’t matter how hard Sehun jerked on the lead, it still didn’t want to move.
He exhaled through teeth clenched shut with frustration. “Don’t do this to me, please. Not now.”
Sehun dug his heels into the soil and pulled harder, yearning for the beast to get back onto its feet, but it just sat there and stared at him with watery eyes. He tried whistling and softening his voice and cooing it over with a curl of his finger but nothing seemed to be working. He huffed, clawing a hand through his hair.
And then a voice rang out to his left.
“Do you need any help?”
One of the other members of staff was leaning against the side of the house, watching through thinned eyes and flicking cigarette ash onto the ground.
“No, thank you. I’m fine,” Sehun called back.
Now trying to coax the dog into moving was an embarrassing spectacle that he didn’t want to have to live through. It didn’t help that he was running out of ideas. He had half a mind to pick the dog up and carry it around the gardens but his arms would probably have broken off so he decided against it.
Eventually the stranger pushed themselves off the wall, stubbed their cigarette into the ground, and walked over with long, determined strides. There was something about the dark eyes that peered over the upturned coat collar that seemed oddly familiar.
“You need this.” He pulled some meat scraps from his pocket and the dog’s long tongue lapped happily at his fingers. “Unless your name is Kristopher Wu, Jack doesn’t move for anything less.” The stranger offered his clean hand forward. “I’m Kim Jongin.”
Sehun clasped his palm. “Oh Sehun.”
“I know.”
His stomach jittered. Sehun knew that face; the face of the stranger that leaned over him in the darkness and soothed his fears away. He’d recognise those lips from anywhere. He was both washed with relief that he hadn’t imagined their encounter and rendered breathless by the fact that their hands were still touching.
Their fingers broke away at the same time and Jongin flashed a smirk before continuing to walk across the grass, Jack running at his heels. Sehun wasn’t sure what to do with himself for a moment and then he jogged to catch up. Something was playing on his mind.
“About last night…I’m sorry if-”
“You didn’t wake anybody up,” Jongin cut in, slowing his pace. “I was in and out of sleep anyway. I wouldn’t worry.”
That was a lie, although why he would lie about it was a mystery. Sehun bowed his head, eyes fixed on the ground in front of his feet. “I dread to think about what you must have thought…”
“I thought you were going to seriously hurt yourself.” He stopped walking for a moment to pick up a twig and threw it into the air for Jack to chase after. “Does it happen…often? Do you do that a lot?”
Sehun bit down on his lip. He was reluctant to spew his secrets to someone he barely knew, but something about the way Jongin had held his hand just then and the night before told him that, perhaps, he was someone to be trusted. At least with a slice of the truth; the part he could handle.
“Only occasionally. It gets a lot worse if I’m ever stressed or nervous or angry before I fall asleep. It’s been happening more often recently, but I thought-”
He cut himself off that time, feeling his throat tighten.
“You thought what?” asked Jongin with genuine curiosity.
Sehun avoided his gaze. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
They were nearing the end of the manicured lawns now. There was a strip of wild forest that bordered the grounds but they didn’t slow their steps. If Sehun had looked behind him, he would’ve witnessed the wonder of Foxcombe shining under broken sunshine small enough to fit between his outstretched index finger and thumb. Instead he kept his slanted eyes on Jongin and the sliver of neck, the colour of rich honey, that flashed through the gap in his collar.
“So what is it? Nightmares?”
He let a sigh escape through his parted lips as Jongin lead him into the undergrowth.
“Something like that.”
♦♦♦
The trees were thick with budding foliage. Jack stuck his nose between the gnarled, mossy roots, merrily wagging his tail, while Jongin jumped and climbed expertly across them like some race of forest nymph without a fear of slipping. All the while he fired questions at Sehun who was busy trying to amble safely over the uneven floor and not fall on his face.
“Where are you from?”
“Seoul.”
“Why did you come here?”
Sehun leant the nearest thick trunk and dug his fingers into the bark to keep his balance. “Why are you so interested?”
“You’re shiny and new, it’s exciting,” Jongin smiled. “We haven’t had a fresh face at Foxcombe in a while. Do you not like talking about yourself?”
“Not really.”
To that, Jongin laughed and jumped down onto a clearing of grass that shone bright in the speckled sunlight. The weather was getting a little warmer so he unbuttoned his coat to flap the air against his chest. A light breeze ruffled his hair and carried with it the fresh scent of spring from the sprinkles of blue and lilac that littered the forest floor; bluebells and hyacinths battling for the misty sunlight, still glistening with morning dew.
Sehun’s brows knitted together. “What’s so funny?”
“You. You’re so…mysterious. I like that,” he said as mischief tugged at a corner of his lips and Sehun’s stomach did a summersault.
Suddenly Jongin’s grin melted away. “Wait, where’s Jack?” He looked around him, eyes searching through the deep sea of green and brown. “I thought you had him.”
Sehun shook his head. “No, you had hold of his lead, right?”
“Crap,” Jongin swore. “Jack! Come ‘ere, boy! Jack!” He cupped his hands over his mouth and started shouting and whistling as he leapt into the jungle. Sehun cursed under his breath and ran after him, barely missing the knobs of root and rock sticking out of the earth.
Eventually, with voices strained and throats sore, they caught sight of Jack’s fur through the carpet of ferns. Only, he wasn’t alone. Two boys from the village were smiling and laughing and stroking his back and ears. One had tawny hair and thick freckles scattered across his nose while the other was crowned with blonde that shone gold like the sun. Both looked up as Sehun and Jongin approached and their faces dropped. The little colour under their skin drained away, their wide eyes gawked in silence and then looked at each other before dashing away.
“Why do they look at us like that?” Sehun asked.
“They were probably wondering the same thing. C’mon,” Jongin nudged his ribs, “let’s get back to the House.”
♦♦♦
There was something about the way that Jongdae marched out of the house with thinned lips and fists scrunched at his side that told Jongin he was a little less than happy about something.
“Where the hell have you been?” The elder grabbed a fistful of Jongin’s collar and dragged him back towards the servant’s entrance, nostrils flaring. “We’re literally moments from serving breakfast and you’re out gallivanting only God knows where. Do you have any idea how much I have had to do while you’ve been playing in the damned dirt? Look at your shoes! I swear, you better get yourself cleaned up before his Lordship sees you looking like a state or I will serve your head on a platter.”
Jongdae continued to stomp his way down the servant’s corridor with Jongin in hand until they reached their shared room and he shoved the younger inside. Flustered, Jongin quickly removed his coat, scrubbed the outside of his shoes and flattened his hair. Jongdae was waiting outside the door when he emerged and clung to his upper arm to drag him to the kitchens.
“Ouch! Jongdae, that hurts! What are you doing? Let go!” Jongin winced at the fingertips that dug into his skin.
“As the first footman I can do what I like. As your older brother, it’s my prerogative.”
“Not by blood.”
As soon as the words flew off his forked tongue, Jongin longed to suck them back down his throat. Instead they hung in the air between them as Jongdae’s face fell and the hurt stung in his eyes. Jongin reached forward but he pulled back.
“I’m sorry Jongdae, I didn’t m-”
“Take this upstairs.” Jongdae shoved a plate of herbed eggs and bacon into his hands and stalked off through the crowd of bustling staff.
Jongin’s stomach sunk.
The day had started so perfectly.
♦♦♦
When Sehun was finally handed his livery, he was more than satisfied. The shirt and waistcoat clung to his tight frame comfortably with enough room to move. The jacket broadened his shoulders and made him look older and more handsome, he thought. Jongin had settled on the edge of the spare bed, bent forward and watching over his hands linked together in front of him. He’d been spending a lot of time in that room recently, not that Sehun was complaining.
Although seeing his face around so often was a little distracting.
“What do you think? This looks okay, right?” Sehun turned from the mirror with his arms open to showcase his new look.
When Jongin twirled his finger and Sehun obliged, spinning on the spot, he bit back a chuckle that vibrated from his throat. “You look fine. Except for one thing.”
He stood up and walked over to fiddle with the bowtie resting under Sehun’s chin. The sudden closeness made Sehun hold his breath and turn his head slightly to the side. “You keep tying it crooked. You have to keep it straight. Understand?”
“Straight. Not crooked. Got it,” he croaked with shaky breath.
“Your hair, too.” Jongin tucked a loose strand behind his ear and pressed it into place. “It needs to be permanently neat and flat, otherwise Joonmyun will have your neck.”
He wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but Sehun was certain he saw Jongin’s eyes trace the space between the collarbones under his collar and his jawline before finally landing on his mouth for a heart-stopping moment.
“Neat and flat,” he repeated. “D-done.”
He allowed himself a single glance at the pair of lips that teased him so close yet so far from his skin, plump and slightly parted, but he just couldn’t keep his mind sinking to the thought of how warm they would feel against his own.
“Sehun…” Jongin mouthed. His hand still lingered above Sehun’s ear.
Then the door abruptly swung open and they jumped apart. Mr Kim’s angelic face peered around the frame.
“Are you ready?”
“Y-yeah,” Sehun stammered, the blood rushing to his cheeks. He didn’t have to look around to see Jongin biting down a smirk as he followed the butler without a word.
♦♦♦
Mr Kim lead him up the servant’s stairs, across the entrance hall and into the large room adjacent to the dining room. It was quiet now; the house barely rang with a single hum. Soon the echo of chaos would reawaken once the dinner gong was sounded, but not quite yet.
Sehun recognised the room as the first he set his eyes on that night his bones were drenched and shivered from the cold. Even then he’d barely taken the time to absorb it all; he’d been far too exhausted. Dark wood and emerald drapes were revealed under the dim light that filtered through the windows. Mr Kim guided him to the back of the room where a large, glass cabinet stood against the far wall, tall and proud, and a girl with long, silky hair sat in front cleaning its shining contents. She looked up and smiled shyly as they approached.
“This is Seo Joohyun,” said Joonmyun. “She’s often in charge of cleaning the precious items from His Lordship’s personal collection. I thought you could give her a hand and learn the ropes, so to speak.”
He handed Sehun a pair of white gloves before leaving. Sehun slipped them over his hands and stepped back a little to take in what was presented before him. On each of the three shelves stood an array of porcelain pieces, each pale in colour and decorated with colourful designs depicting scenes from nature or folklore. There were dishes and jugs and even figurines shaped into dancers with swirling dresses.
He met Joohyun’s kind eyes. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” She offered him a cloth.
“Yes. Very much so.”
Sehun unlatched the centre compartment and made to pick up a small saucer decorated in cerulean cloud swirls and shapes.
“Be careful. They’re very old and very delicate.”
“Right, of course.” He pulled his arm back, clearing his throat. “Where are they from?”
“South China. Just outside of Liling, Hunan province, from my understanding. Some are said to be hundreds of years old. Although, that one,” she pointed to the tall vase at the back of the middle shelf, “is said to have been painted by His Lordship’s very own hands.”
Sehun reached forward with a gloved hand to pull the vase towards him and cradle it against his fingers. He followed the intricate design with the tip of his nail under the fabric - strokes of crimson and burnt gold shone out from the shiny, ivory canvas and swirled together in the form of a majestic and mystical creature that curled its elongated body around the vase’s neck.
“A red dragon. It’s the symbol of the Wu family’s trade,” Joohyun explained, gently wiping the surface of a ceramic plate dotted with decorative flowers and birds.
He scrunched the cloth and began dusting its pearly exterior. “You seem to know a lot about it,” Sehun observed.
“His Lordship is kind enough to let the staff borrow some of the books from his library. In fact, he encourages it. There’s a whole section on the history of porcelain and its production. His family are mentioned more than a few times.”
Sehun took the time to look around and drink in the scale of knowledge that peered down from every inch of the library walls; row upon row of leather spines printed with flaking titles and holding worn pages waiting to be fingered through. Near the middle of the room, by one of the towering windows, sat the desk where he’d been interviewed and too scared to breathe a single word. He was probably too busy trying to keep his throat unstuck and his hands trembling to notice all the books before. It was almost a little intimidating.
“Maybe I’ll tackle that another time,” he mumbled.
♦♦♦
Jongdae wasn’t an idiot. In fact, he was far from it.
He knew full well what he was feeling was jealousy, and it stung.
It hurt to watch as Jongin scampered after Sehun like a puppy…and the puppy actually wanted to play in return. Jongdae had watched the two of them circle each other flirtatiously for barely a few days and already it was becoming too much. He shouldn’t have been angry, he should’ve been happy for his brother but it was difficult. He’d been at Foxcombe for almost 2 years already…why hadn’t this happened to him?
Always lurking in doorways, always stealing glances across the room, always trying to impress him with a smile and a few extra miles…and yet he remained unnoticed. Joonmyun never showed him the time of day. It was staring to grind on his heartstrings, being so invisible.
Jongdae sat on his bed, legs bent over the side, and mused over these feelings for what felt like the thousandth time while the same images flickered across his mind - Jongin and Sehun walking through the gardens together on his first morning, the looks they exchanged when they passed in the corridors, the way Joonmyun never even looked up when he handed him the ironed newspapers every morning…what did he have to do?
Why can’t we have what they have?
What makes us so unlucky?
Sighing, Jongdae slipped his hand under the mattress and pulled out a wad of writing paper and a pen, kept hidden away from prying eyes. He knew he had to be more obvious, he knew he had to say something, anything, but he couldn’t do it.
Not to Joonmyun’s face, at least.
Instead, he would write him letters. Not every day, not even very long letters, but letters all the same. He’d sit under flickering candle light and scratch his feelings with ink onto the pages in the hopes that, one day, he’ll even deliver them himself.
Perhaps then Joonmyun would turn around any mutter the words he so longed to hear.
When the door suddenly flew open, Jongdae jumped and shoved the paper under his thighs, but it was too late. Jongin had already seen.
He halted by the door frame. “Who are you writing to?”
“Nobody,” Jongdae lied. Badly.
Jongin exhaled with defeat. “Please don’t lie to me. I apologized for what I said.”
Jongdae cleared his throat and dug sharp nails into his legs. He didn’t want to lie. Again.
“Home.”
To that, Jongin shook his head. “This is our home now, Jongdae. Not there. Don’t do this to yourself.”
Jongdae nodded, but his insides tightened.
He had no idea how wrong he was.
♦♦♦
Jongin had planned it all.
He ate quickly and half-watched Sehun scoffing his own lumpy stew over his cutlery. It was hardly gourmet cuisine but Jongin was grateful for it nonetheless. The cook always did well with what she had, no matter how little was left for the servants. The warm gravy managed to quell the flittering in his stomach if only temporarily.
Because tonight was the night that Jongin would finally get Sehun alone without a single distraction.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried already. He’d been well and truly stuck to Sehun’s side for the new footman’s first week at Foxcombe, he couldn’t deny it. But every opportunity for the two of them to spend some quality time alone together had been disturbed by Joonmyun or Jongdae or, even worse, Mrs Kwon. Jongin was getting a little tired of being rattled by his peers, as though everyone was against him. Each night that Sehun had retreated to bed he’d come so close to slipping inside with him, but every time he’d chickened out. He was cursed to watch as Mr Kim dragged Sehun from one menial job to the next and for Jongdae’s gaze to be permanently locked on them, like a hawk. But not this night.
When Sehun had finished his meal and stood up from the table, Jongin made sure to do the same. He picked up his bowl, threw it by the sink and followed him out of the door.
“Psst!” He ushered him over with a wave of his hand.
“I’ve got plans for us tonight. Meet me after lights out. I’ll be waiting outside your door.” After Sehun had furrowed his eyebrows for a couple of seconds and finally nodded, he added with an outstretched hand, “Promise?”
Sehun shook his palm, sure and strong, and whispered, “I promise.”
Jongin felt the tug on the corner of his mouth.
“That’s the spirit.”
♦♦♦
Foxcombe had a history; a very colourful history. Dark tales had passed between the lips of the inhabitants over the centuries, evolving into bone-chilling fables with barely a pinch of truth to them. Still, that didn’t stop them being remembered and passed down through the generations of owners and their staff. Jongin wanted to initiate Sehun into his precious, new home through the means of these stories and, preferably, get a decent laugh out of the experience by the end.
He waited for Jongdae’s breathing to quieten and Joonmyun to pass down the corridor, turning all the lights out as he went. When all seemed still, Jongin emerged from under the sheets and tiptoed out the door, being careful to click the door behind him with as little noise as possible.
He positioned himself outside Sehun’s door and waited. A couple of minutes had ticked by and Jongin silently feared the boy had fallen asleep. He was close to knocking when the door finally opened and he exhaled with relief. As soon as Sehun stepped out, Jongin placed a single finger on his lips.
“Shhh…” he breathed before beckoning him to follow.
Eventually they reached the door to the female staff’s wing. Jongin pulled out a long key from his pocket and Sehun tugged frantically on his shirt.
“What are you doing? This is the girl’s dorms!”
“We’re just passing through,” Jongin whispered, reluctantly batting his hand away.
He slipped the key into the lock and twisted with care. Even though Mrs Kwon didn’t sleep on the same floor as the lower servant girls, she had supernatural hearing and would skin them both alive if she found them snooping around at night with the spare key he’d stolen from Joonmyun’s office.
The door he was looking for stood at the end of the girl’s corridor, tucked into the wall. It was old, practically ancient, and creaked annoyingly loud when opened. Jongin cringed as the sound echoed off the empty walls and prayed nobody would wake up. Nothing seemed to stir. So far, so good.
It was almost pitch black so he had to trust his hands to guide their way. He felt behind him to find Sehun’s fingers and pull him gently forward, kicking the ground lightly as he went to indicate stone steps leading further underground. Neither of them were barely uttering a breath. The descent wasn’t long but it was steep and twisted so Jongin stroked the wall as he walked to keep his balance, not once letting go of Sehun’s warm skin. He could practically hear the new boy’s heartbeat reverberating against his ribs behind him.
When they reached the bottom, Jongin felt along the floor and grabbed at two candlesticks pushed by the wall. He’d been here before and always made sure to leave them in the same place. Nobody else dared to set foot so far underground so they were rarely used. He pushed one into Sehun’s grasp, replacing his own hand, and felt deep into his pockets for the matches.
He struck it hard and the bobbing flame illuminated Sehun’s pale face.
“Where are we?” he asked as Jongin lit his candle.
“Take a look.”
Sehun slanted his eyes and used the fire in his hands to lighten the space around him.
“It’s just a corridor - like the one above, like the dorms…” he mused, peering around. “Why did you bring me here?”
Jongin shrugged and continued walking. “I thought it would be fun.”
Sehun was right; it was just like the corridor a floor above their heads with doors leading to bare rooms on either side. Except this corridor was empty and unused and smelled awfully damp and dingy in the darkness.
“These were dorms, too, once. A century ago, or so.” Jongin turned dramatically, placing the candle directly under his chin to bathe his face in eerie shadows. “Until something terrible happened here.”
Sehun gasped but then his gaze thinned sceptically. “You’re making this up.”
“Am I?” Jongin leaned so close to Sehun’s body he could feel the tickle of his breath against his cheek. Into his ear, he breathed, “Or are you just scared?”
“I’m not sca-!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down!” His fingers flew to Sehun’s lips a second time, pressing them together. “We don’t want to wake the ghost.”
Sehun made a sound like a mouse being stepped on and Jongin had to resist the temptation to laugh out loud. This was turning out to be more fun than he imagined.
He put his hand down and they fell into step. “The story goes that he locked himself away in his room, down here, in the dead of night…to take his own life.”
“W-why? Why would he do that?”
“Because of a broken heart, of course. What else would drive a man to such a wicked end?”
Sehun gulped, his breath harsh and pupils large as his wide eyes scanned the darkness in the flame’s weak glow. Most of the doors were closed and hid their barren interiors from prying eyes. A couple, however, had been left mid-swing to reveal the shadows lurking within.
“So his g-ghost…have people seen it?”
Jongin nodded. “He wanders the House at night…searching for his lost love…”
He paused outside one of the rooms with its entrance lying ajar. Sehun looked at him expectantly but Jongin kept his face blank. Just as he expected, Sehun swallowed and stepped forward to push tentatively at the door with his fingertips.
“Is this-…is this his room? Is this where he-?”
There were a hundred ghost stories tied to Foxcombe’s web of history. Jongin didn’t believe a single one of them. He didn’t care for ghosts or goblins or gigantic hounds or whatever else the locals had come up with. What he did care about, however, was now sucking in every word he said and wandering with shaking steps into a room that hadn’t been slept in or used in several decades. Nobody knew why. Perhaps the owners decided they didn’t need that many members of staff after all. Either way, he’d never seen a ghost. But he did see a boy with a strong nose and high cheekbones and a permanent nonchalant expression that powered the machine that made his heart pump.
Foxcombe had become so boring, so predictable. An enigma with collarbones to die for was just what Jongin wanted, what Jongin needed.
“It’s so cold,” Sehun muttered, his trembling hands making the light flicker. “Isn’t it suddenly really, really cold?”
Jongin smirked and blew out his candle, fading into the darkness.
Sehun turned around. “Jongin? Jongin, where did you go?”
His panicked expression was priceless - those small eyes suddenly round like disks, darting with panic, and his skin almost translucent, drained of all blood. He threw out the hand holding the flame and searched desperately in the unknown.
“This isn’t funny! Jongin!” he hissed.
Jongin had to place a hand across his own mouth to stop himself giggling. He just looked far too adorable, lost and confused in the dark. How far could he take it?
“I’m s-serious, Jongin, where are you?” He turned on the spot and started walking fast, back the way they came. Jongin took this opportunity to follow silently behind and as soon as he was close enough…
He grabbed at Sehun’s waist and breathed, “I knew you were scared.”
Sehun jumped a foot in the air, almost dropping his candlestick, and yelped at Jongin’s touch. At the sight of him of him doubling over with laughter, Sehun scrunched up his face and began hitting him repeatedly.
“You idiot! I thought the ghost had got you or something, dick!”
Jongin threw up his arms. “Stop! Stop! I’m sorry, really!” But he couldn’t keep them up for long - his stomach hurt from laughing too much and it only angered Sehun more.
Until something echoed from the stairs and they both froze.
“W-what…was that noise…?”
Jongin managed to move his limbs to stand from falling in hilarity. Suddenly things weren’t so funny anymore when he realised that they only had one candle lit between them now and the dark was really quite suffocating after a while.
“It was probably just the wind b-blowing the door shut. It was nothing.”
Nevertheless, he grabbed Sehun’s arm and they retreated until their backs hit the wall. Jongin didn’t want to admit that he was shaking so hard, or that he couldn’t stop himself panting in fright. To calm his nerves, he looked across to watch Sehun lean his head back on the hard surface, revealing a long neck and prominent Adam’s apple. It shone only slightly with sweat. It was enough to make Jongin forget all about the strange noise from the stairwell. Now he was scared for an entirely different reason.
Sehun caught his gaze. As his head turned, their noses were barely an inch apart. “What? What are you looking at?”
“You’re so cute when you’re terrified,” Jongin uttered, bringing a single finger to stroke along Sehun’s jaw. He half-expected him to flinch at the touch, but he didn’t. His skin was so smooth under the roughness of Jongin’s fingertip. Where had something so precious been all his life?
“Aren’t you? Aren’t you…terrified?” Sehun’s eyes definitely fell to his lips.
Jongin actually felt himself smiling. “More than you know.”
Before he could rationalise what he was doing and give in to the fear that would otherwise curdle any desires stirring in his chest, Jongin gripped Sehun’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled the boy’s lips onto his own.
Their mouths collided, not roughly but with intent. He saw the surprise in Sehun’s face the second before he closed his eyes and prayed he wouldn’t pull away. He didn’t. In fact, Sehun only pressed himself harder against Jongin’s chest, now clutching at his side with his free hand and breathing hard. As their lips parted and wet tongues slid against each other, Jongin pushed him up against the wall and fingered a rogue hand through Sehun’s hair, clinging so firmly. Every moan that vibrated against from Sehun’s throat sent the nerves in his groin into haywire and he longed to rip every thread of clothing from his slim body and taste every contour between his bones.
In the end, even Sehun’s fingers couldn’t hold their grip as the candle fell to the ground and the flame winked out, leaving their bodies to melt together in the darkness.
{ Chapter Three }