Porcelain { Three }
Title: Porcelain
Rating: NC-17/R
Pairing: SeKai + SuChen
Summary: The year is 1913. Kim Jongin and Kim Jongdae are footmen 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 } { TWO }
Chapter Three
May blossomed bright and fresh with pansies and magenta crocuses scattered among the green. Jongdae pulled his hands from his jacket pockets and lifted his chin to savour the warm sunshine beaming against his skin. Not a single cloud blotched the periwinkle canvas stretching overhead.
He sighed with satisfaction. It was a fine day to go to church.
The village of Harting had just one small parish tucked between the cottages. They sat in thatched rows like something off a postcard; perfect and picturesque with ivy climbing over their archaic faces. The church itself was dated to the late 16th century, built with what looked like mismatched, grey and brown cobbles that would fall given any strong breeze, but they still held on over 300 years later. It was customary for both the Wu family and most of the staff to pay St. Gabriel’s a visit for the service every Sunday; something Kristopher insisted on in order to mould well with the locals and their traditions. In the winter, it was hell; by December you’d fear your arse would freeze to the pews. But May was a fine month with fine weather and fine sunshine to melt the coldest of hearts. May was Jongdae’s favourite month to enjoy England.
The only month if he was honest with himself. The truth was he’d hate England if the two halves of his heart weren’t planted in its soil.
Jongin was walking a few metres in front of him, a little away from the others, with his face buried in Sehun’s ear. They reminded Jongdae a little of cats on heat and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel a slight sting of loneliness. Before the mysterious runaway from Seoul had arrived, him and his brother would enjoy the long stroll from Foxcombe to the church together, more than likely moaning about the erratic English weather or Mrs Kwon’s shrill cry that rung whenever they were in trouble. Now it was just Jongdae left to kick the pebbles and scowl at non-existent rain clouds.
The sunshine made things a lot more pleasant, however. As did the sweet voice that suddenly vibrated into his ear.
“Jongdae, I have a favour to ask of you.”
He couldn’t help but gasp a little at Joonmyun’s face being so close, so unexpectedly. The butler’s hand rested on the small of his back, making every hair on his body stand on end while he drank in the sight of that immaculate complexion in the sunlight.
“A-anything, Mr Kim,” Jongdae stammered.
“The candelabras in the dining room are looking a little dull. The same can be said for those in the entranceway, actually. If you could spruce them up as part of your duties this evening, that would be most helpful.”
“Of course,” he nodded.
Joonmyun gently patted his jacket and flashed a grateful smile that tattooed itself across Jongdae’s retinas before walking ahead. Now every time he blinked those perfect, pink lips stretched with gratitude would flare brightly behind his eyelids. The butler caught up with a number of the female staff and began talking animatedly with dramatic hand motions. The skin on Jongdae’s back still tingled.
You could ask me to do anything, and I would do it, he whispered onto the breeze inside his head.
Anything.
♦♦♦
Lunch was served on time, much to Kris’ delight. His stomach was about ready to digest itself after a tedious service at St Gabriel’s, as always. The elderly vicar could barely enunciate his works correctly with a slack jaw and forgotten reading glasses. Every week he would question his decision to make the church service mandatory for the majority of this employees; they could barely understand English spoken with a perfect tongue, let alone by a tired, wrinkled one. He knew full well, however, that it was for the best. If the native Harting folk were to ever accept his exotic ‘kind’ as part of their impossibly small and tight community, showing face at church was paramount. He just wished it was a little less boring.
“Thank you, Jongdae.” He bowed his head as the footman pulled back his chair and he settled at the table. He’d certainly noticed the boy’s efforts. Jongdae seemed to possess a permanent friendly tilt to his mouth and an approachable disposition that made Kris ponder his future as a footman. Perhaps he could handle more responsibility. He made a mental note to deliberate the possibility once business was over for the week.
Joonmyun stepped forward and handed over the post he’d missed from his previous days away from the House. It was exhausting at times; being eternally driven from London and around Sussex. He adored Sundays purely for the freedom to actually rest.
Jessica soon entered the room and an eager Jongin offered her a seat. She barely raised an eye and sat without a word. The footmen left to retrieve the food and the glorious scent of miniature beef fillets drenched in a Spanish sauce tantalised Kris’ taste buds, filling the room. He looked over at his wife in childish excitement for the meal but she didn’t look up. Instead, he flicked through the bundle in his hands and paused.
“Oh. This is addressed to you.”
Her eyebrows knotted together as she accepted it between her delicate fingers. Clearly she wasn’t expecting any correspondence. Once opened, she unfolded the letter and read the words carefully with a darkening expression that brought a shadow to linger forebodingly over the table. By the end, her lips had thinned to no thicker than a strand of hair and she tossed the paper aside.
Kris’ fork hung expectantly in the air above his plate as he waited for an explanation, but Jessica’s mouth only opened for a sip of her tea.
He cleared his throat. “What is it, darling?”
Her cheek twitched, gently reuniting the cup with its saucer. “Soojung will be paying us a visit next month.”
“Oh.” Kris rested his cutlery with a clink against the fine china. The subject regarding her infamous younger sister was to always be approached with care, if the aftermath of their wedding was anything to go by. “Did she specify a reason why?”
Jessica breathed through clenched teeth. “To explore the sights and sounds of London, supposedly. With a guest.” The sting on her words was more than evident, ringing against the tableware.
“But we don’t live anywhere near London,” Kris mused.
“She’s coming to cause trouble, that’s what it is,” she snapped. Her knuckles whitened.
“Who’s the guest?”
“A mystery; she doesn’t mention it. Although I have a pretty good idea who it is.”
Kris waited for her to elaborate while she stole another gulp of her earl grey.
After a heated inhale, she continued. “I received word from mother only last week that her recent…escapades in New York have caused quite a scandal involving her and the heir to a certain diamond fortune.”
Kris’ mouth fell open. “You don’t mean-?”
“The very same. Word is that they’ve been gallivanting around Seoul ever since and now they’re looking towards Europe. It’s disgusting.” She spat the last word with contempt, signalling the end to the conversation and slicing her breakfast in sharp, angry movements.
Kris nodded. “Quite. Of course.”
And that was that. No more conversation flowed, not another word was uttered; even after Jessica composed herself at the end of her meal and retreated to her quarters with a tight mouth brimming with a frown at its corners.
Kris sighed heavily and leant back in his chair, dejected.
At least there was something exciting to look forward to.
♦♦♦
His cold sandwich stuffed with fatty beef scraps tasted nothing like the heaven His Lordship had eaten but it had satisfied Jongdae’s hunger all the same. He settled his feet in his favourite spot outside the back door and patted his pockets for his cigarettes, but found nothing. He huffed, about to retreat inside again to find the damned things, when a hand shot out in front of his face clasping a single smoke between its tanned fingers.
Jongin smiled. “Looking for one of these?”
“Give me that.” He shot his brother a half-grin and snatched it from his grasp. “No doubt it’s one of mine anyway.”
“You can’t prove anything,” he quipped back, lighting his own cigarette and passing the matches across.
Jongdae chuckled. He’d missed this.
“Next month should be interesting,” he mused. There were clouds in the sky now, but only wispy trails to turn the sunlight hazy. He would’ve given anything to lie on the grass for the rest of the afternoon and watch them sail by but there was work to do. A footman’s job is never done.
Jongin slowly nodded next to him. “So I hear. Who’s the mystery guest, I wonder?”
“Probably just some new-money playboy by the sounds of things. Nothing for us to worry about.”
“If you say so.” Jongin leant back against the wall and flicked ash onto the ground.
After a long silence, he said, “You should talk to him.”
Jongdae didn’t have to ask who he meant.
“Yeah? What makes you say that?”
Jongin twisted around so he was leaning with one shoulder. “Because I don’t want this to come between us. You’re my brother and you mean the world to me, truly…but Sehun’s a part of my life now, too. He’s been such a good…friend these past weeks. It would mean a lot if you two could get along.”
Not by blood.
The words still echoed in his mind although he prayed each day they would disappear. Jongin had never meant them. Hell, the kid had a sharp tongue to flick at times, Jongdae knew this too well. He’d been on the receiving end of it most of his life. Now the eyes that stared down at him glowed with that same excitement at a promising future as it had 2 years previously, and blaming him for anything was an impossibility.
“It’ll be an adventure!” he’d cried on that fateful March morning in Seoul, barely 18 and brimming with dreams and possibilities. He’d prodded the noticeboard with such enthusiasm that Jongdae had to pull his hand away.
He’d emigrated to the other side of the world for those eyes.
Jongdae sighed at the memory. “Fine. I’ll try. Just for you.”
“Thank you.” Jongin gripped his arm with gratitude, biting down a grin spreading across his face.
“Alright, there’s no need to get soppy…” Jongdae laughed, prising off the younger’s grip. “What’s gotten into you?”
Jongin shrugged. “If only I knew.”
Jongdae hummed lightly to himself as he dusted the candelabras, making sure to pinch the cloth in every tight corner and crevice to rid their surfaces of dust and wear.
It wasn’t much of a footman’s job; more of a maid’s area of expertise. In fact, it was often Joohyun’s small hands seen polishing Foxcombe’s delicates, but Jongdae didn’t mind. Joonmyun had asked him personally and his insides still squirmed at the recollection of what had happened only that morning. He mentally kicked himself for dwelling on the feeling of Joonmyun’s fingertips through the fabric of his jacket, but it couldn’t be helped. It spurred him on to make the furniture shine.
He’d just about finished in the entranceway when he caught sight of Joonmyun walking down the corridor from the common room and disappear into the library.
Jongdae realised in that moment how much he wanted, needed, to follow him into that room. Could he do it? Could he improvise and fabricate a conversation point without crumbling like he had so many times before? Had that touch meant something as much as he hoped it had? There was surely only one way to discover the truth, but his feet wouldn’t move.
Until he heard laughter from within.
Curiosity was enough to spur his limbs into movement. It had not only been Joonmyun’s melodic laugh to echo from the room but a girl’s as well. Jongdae edged himself closer to peer through the space between the hinges; a position he was a little too accustomed to. What he saw made his abdomen twist painfully.
Oh.
Joonmyun was leaning over a studious Joohyun, a book open on the table in front of her. From what Jongdae could hear, he was pronouncing random English words and she was repeating them back to him. Occasionally the two would burst into laughter at her mispronunciation while Joonmyun politely corrected her. She twisted a strand of her long, dark hair shyly behind her ear and he leaned closer to underline something on the pages, brushing ever so closely to her neck. Even in the murky light, those blushes shone out distinctly from her round cheeks.
What coiled around Jongdae’s chest felt a lot like a dozen rose vines and they constricted so tightly he couldn’t breathe. He never considered for a second that there could be someone else, would be someone else. In his mind it was only the two of them; perhaps not in that moment but some day. Some day in the future when he would admit his love out loud and wait to hear the same in return from those perfect lips. There wasn’t room for anybody else. There wasn’t any room for her.
And yet she was the one practically leaning against his arm, gazing dreamily up to his chin and giggling coyly to every word she hung onto while Jongdae watched through the thin film of reality that kept him and his angel apart.
It was as though Destiny herself had spun the silky strands with her long, bony fingers and strung the web across the space between them. No matter how hard you clawed through it, the delicate ropes with strength like diamond would stick and bend and tangle to your skin - but never break - until you were helplessly cocooned with no hope of breaking free. It was suffocating.
That was how it felt to love someone through the gaps.
And it hurt.
♦♦♦
“Have Yixing get the car ready for 7:30. I wish to leave promptly.”
“Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”
Kris’ throat hummed in thought as he and Joonmyun strolled together down the corridor.
“I’ll read the Times with an early breakfast tomorrow - and be sure to request some of those delicious pancakes to the cook on my behalf. The blueberry and honey variety she concocted last week were divine.” His mouth watered at the memory. He was sure even Jessica cracked a smile to their rich flavour.
“Certainly, sir. Will that be all for tonight?”
“I think so. Good night, Mr Kim.”
“Good night, sir.” Joonmyun bowed his head and retreated back down the hallway.
Kris’ hand had lingered on the door knob to his bedroom. He had every intention of getting an early night but something possessed him to continue walking. The corridor snaked its way around the entire first floor and ended with Jessica’s private room. It had been long while since he’d visited it so late. His lips tilted at the memory of the two of them barely resisting her quarters in Seoul with wild hands and that glint in her eye that told him she couldn’t wait until their wedding night. Those days were long gone, now. She barely spoke to him.
“Come back to me, Jessie,” he whispered against the frame. “Just tell me what to do to make you smile like that again.”
He blamed himself. He always blamed himself.
He just didn’t know what to do.
♦♦♦
Writing his letter that night was a little more than painful, but he was determined not to mention her name.
Is that who you dream about at night? Is that who secretly tugs at your heartstrings as you do mine?
I need to know or I’ll die here.
When you try your hardest not to think about something, suddenly it’s the only thing your brain can piece together behind your eyes, projecting the reality you don’t want so you feel weak and nauseated with a constant reminder of what you can’t unsee.
Jongdae gripped the pen so hard his fingers whitened as he scratched the final words. To make matters worse, he kept meticulously analysing his memories for hints of the two of them together: had he sat next to her at St Gabriel’s? Had he walked with her on the way there? Had they exchanged flirting glances or spoken in hushed tones in the corners where nobody would notice? Jongdae couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been blind enough to miss the warning signs all along. Where had his mind been the whole time?
Well, he knew the answer to that.
He let out a long breath between his lips and folded up the page, slipping it inside an envelope as he always did and sealing the top. It was destined to join the pile of others hidden under the mattress, never to be read by another pair of eyes except one other. If he ever had the courage to send them.
What would he see in her? She was pretty enough but so plain. An angel like that deserved stunning, not that Jongdae slotted himself into that category at all. But something so otherworldly would never fall for a mere mortal, surely? She did love to read, which was Joonmyun’s Achilles’ heel no doubt. She was friendly, too, and pleasant to everyone. Jongdae found himself growing contempt for someone he’d barely spoken to over the two years he’d worked at the House. This is what desire did to him when the caught his only wish shooting across a different sky.
Instead of torturing himself any further with that image, he decided to alter it somewhat. What would he have done in that situation, with Joonmyun so close and leaning over his shoulder? Pale skin would’ve shone between his chin and his collar and Jongdae was sure he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on any English lessons. The insides of his thighs twitched.
He shifted on the bed, leaning back against the meagre quilt and propping his head up on the pillow. Jongin was out; more than likely frolicking with that Sehun kid, the one who barely spoke a word to anyone else. He had the room to himself to enjoy his rogue fantasies and forget about reality for a while.
Jongdae slid a hand down onto his crotch and began stroking purposefully against the fabric of his trousers. It didn’t take him very long to get hard, not with the thought of Joonmyun’s teasing skin and the imaginary glances he’d shoot down through his relentless mistakes. Jongdae had never been able to pick up English very easily, and Joonmyun would surely find his efforts endearing or, perhaps, even adorable. At least, in this fantasy he did. Jongdae would smile and playfully touch his arm and, in the alternate reality, their faces would meet only inches apart and he’d possess the stark confidence to press his lips firmly against his teacher’s mouth. Joonmyun wouldn’t pull away. His eyes would widen in shock before fluttering closed and, soon enough, the book would be strewn across the floor, forgotten, while their mouths opened to each other’s touch.
Joonmyun’s clothes wouldn’t stay on for long, not with Jongdae’s itchy fingers. He’d tear them off if he had to, including his own; anything to remove that final barrier between their bodies and rub his chest against the other’s. He yearned to lick those delicious collarbones and pluck at those nipples and soon the Jongdae in reality was slipping his fingers around the bulging cock in his underwear and imagining it was Joonmyun’s hand taking over with secret urges while a pair of lips moaned at his neck.
Jongdae would expect him to be shy at first, maybe even a little cautious. To break his reluctance, he’d push the butler against the wooden table and trail kisses down his torso before reaching his hips and closing his lips around Joonmyun’s salted head. He’d lavish the shaft and tease the helmet relentlessly until he’d throw his head back from the pleasure and rake his fingers through Jongdae’s hair. In the end, it would all be too much for the not-so-innocent angel who would reluctantly prise Jongdae’s mouth from his crotch and throw him onto the table to take over; drilling roughly into him with a tensed face and sweat beads dripping from his temples and words like “I need you” leaking from his tongue while Jongdae dug into Joonmyun’s back with his fingertips until-
A strained groan vibrated from his throat as he arched his back into the mattress, eyes clenched shut and seeing stars, while the warm seed dripped over his fingers. He gasped for air with a mouth wide open and tugged at his member a few final times, gripping the sheet with his free hand and savouring the orgasm. A small cramp stirred in his calf from tensing so much but he didn’t care. It was worth it to see, even for a second, the flash of Joonmyun’s hungry eyes as he came inside of him.
The day it would actually happen couldn’t arrive any sooner.
Jongdae exhaled with frustration and rolled over. It was late, far too late to still be fidgeting with restlessness but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall to sleep. His mouth was parched and his tongue felt like it was covered in sand but the jug next to his bed was devoid of any water. As was Jongin’s, which didn’t come as a surprise. It had been days since he’d slept in that room. Grudgingly, Jongdae threw his legs over the side and slipped on a dressing gown with the intent of pattering down to the kitchens. The stone floor, like slabs of ice under his feet, made his toes curl uncomfortably from the cold. He’d made it two steps out of his door when the faintest melody, like a bird’s song, tickled his ears in the gloom.
A piano.
His stomach jittered. He knew who that was.
Using his fingertips, he felt his way up the servant’s stairs and into Foxcombe’s grand foyer. The music seemed to be coming from the common room where he could picture the grand piano standing proud by the window. The way in was half open and, just before he peered inside, Jongdae prepared himself for the sight about to befall him.
Sure enough, Joonmyun was sat at the glorious instrument, bent over the keys that he caressed so skilfully. His silhouette was framed by the moonlight and a single flame flickering weakly so a milky halo glowed around his outline.
Jongdae knew he couldn’t do this anymore. Loitering in doorways only caused him more unnecessary pain to press against his ribs and the pressure was becoming a little too much. It was unhealthy to stare so longingly at what he couldn’t have, what he couldn’t hold. Perhaps once he’d finished writing his letters he’d allow himself to possess such feelings, but for now it was rotting away his heart’s enamel. He made to turn and disappear underground again but he lost his footing momentarily and had to grab the door to keep his balance. Naturally, this made the door creak and Joonmyun’s head spun around as the music stopped.
The butler peered curiously in his direction. “Jongdae? Is that you?”
Something thunked in his abdomen. “S-sorry to disturb you, I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Joonmyun chuckled. He patted the space next to him on the seat invitingly. “Come in.”
Surprisingly, Jongdae didn’t hesitate. He scooted quietly over the floor and perched himself on the bench. Joonmyun tapped the seat again to tell him to move closer since he’d left such a gap between them and he shuffled shyly until their legs almost touched. He was hypnotised by the butler’s finger movements.
“It sounds…so beautiful.”
“Can you play?”
Jongdae shook his head. “Not well.” It was a humble lie.
Even in the darkness, Joonmyun’s shy smile shone brighter than any star could dream. “Let me teach you.”
He reached down to clasp at Jongdae’s trembling fingers, resting his own gently on top to puppeteer their movements. He lifted their two hands to the keys and pressed down on Jongdae’s nails to make them sing beneath his touch, ringing out a beautiful sound to echo in the still air. Jongdae recognised the song as Joonmyun’s favourite to play late at night, but he had no idea where it originated. Perhaps the butler had composed it himself. He was perfect like that.
Jongdae was sure his heart was fluttering in his chest loud enough to reverberate over the soft sounds of the piano. His lips and mouth were dry because he couldn’t close them, not yet. Not with Joonmyun touching him the way he was; stroking his fingers and holding his hand so delicately. Each note that played plucked the individual strings of his soul and left the rest to weep.
“See? It’s not difficult. You’re a natural,” Joonmyun grinned.
“Only when you’re holding me.”
Their gazes met in the near-black and time stopped for a few moments. He didn’t regret the words he spoke, not a single one.
“Only when I’m holding you…” the butler pondered, turning back to the music.
But he didn’t let go.
♦♦♦
“Hey! Wake up! It’s just me!”
“W-what?”
Sehun’s eyes flew open. Jongin was leaning over his face, hands clasped tightly around his wrists to restrain them. At the feeling of his dark fingers pressing into his skin and, no doubt, leaning faint, red marks he relaxed slightly and croaked, “Jongin, I-”
“Shh, it’s just me,” he repeated, now stroking his face in a soothing voice. “Are you okay?”
Sehun gulped through a dry throat. “Yes…I think so…was I-?”
He nodded. “Yeah, you were…thrashing and shouting. Again.”
Sehun closed his eyes again momentarily. The heated flashes flickered behind his vision and curled painfully around his throat. Had he really seen what he’d seen? It sent dark shivers down his spine as nausea bubbled in his stomach.
When he opened them again, Jongin’s beautiful features calmed his frantic thoughts.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
“It’s no problem.” Jongin pecked affectionately at his forehead, leaving a tingling sensation where his mouth had met Sehun’s skin, and retreated back to the bed on the other side of the room. He’d been sleeping there a lot lately. His excuse was Sehun’s safety but Sehun hoped it was more than that. The sly kisses and wandering hands probably fuelled the idea to begin with, although he always slept in the other bed like a gentleman.
However, tonight wasn’t a night to be polite. The nightmares were becoming clearer, sharper, just as they always did after time. Everything was coming into focus and it was terrifying Sehun to his core.
“Jongin?” he muttered.
“Yeah?” came a muffled voice in reply.
“Can you sleep…in this bed tonight? With me?”
Sheets ruffled. “S-sure. Of course.”
Jongin slipped out of bed again as Sehun rolled over onto his side and he felt the other manoeuvre himself to fit against his back, wrapping his long arms around Sehun’s waist. He felt safe in the warm bath of Jongin’s body heat as he nuzzled his nose into the back of his hair.
Jongin’s soft voice broke the silence. “These nightmares that you suffer with…what is it you see?”
When Sehun didn’t answer, he felt Jongin lever himself onto his elbows, leaning down. “Sehun, what do you see?”
It almost hurt to bend his tongue around the word but he forced his quaking lips to whisper it against his pillow.
“Fire.”
Chapter Four
Rating: NC-17/R
Pairing: SeKai + SuChen
Summary: The year is 1913. Kim Jongin and Kim Jongdae are footmen 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 } { TWO }
Chapter Three
May blossomed bright and fresh with pansies and magenta crocuses scattered among the green. Jongdae pulled his hands from his jacket pockets and lifted his chin to savour the warm sunshine beaming against his skin. Not a single cloud blotched the periwinkle canvas stretching overhead.
He sighed with satisfaction. It was a fine day to go to church.
The village of Harting had just one small parish tucked between the cottages. They sat in thatched rows like something off a postcard; perfect and picturesque with ivy climbing over their archaic faces. The church itself was dated to the late 16th century, built with what looked like mismatched, grey and brown cobbles that would fall given any strong breeze, but they still held on over 300 years later. It was customary for both the Wu family and most of the staff to pay St. Gabriel’s a visit for the service every Sunday; something Kristopher insisted on in order to mould well with the locals and their traditions. In the winter, it was hell; by December you’d fear your arse would freeze to the pews. But May was a fine month with fine weather and fine sunshine to melt the coldest of hearts. May was Jongdae’s favourite month to enjoy England.
The only month if he was honest with himself. The truth was he’d hate England if the two halves of his heart weren’t planted in its soil.
Jongin was walking a few metres in front of him, a little away from the others, with his face buried in Sehun’s ear. They reminded Jongdae a little of cats on heat and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel a slight sting of loneliness. Before the mysterious runaway from Seoul had arrived, him and his brother would enjoy the long stroll from Foxcombe to the church together, more than likely moaning about the erratic English weather or Mrs Kwon’s shrill cry that rung whenever they were in trouble. Now it was just Jongdae left to kick the pebbles and scowl at non-existent rain clouds.
The sunshine made things a lot more pleasant, however. As did the sweet voice that suddenly vibrated into his ear.
“Jongdae, I have a favour to ask of you.”
He couldn’t help but gasp a little at Joonmyun’s face being so close, so unexpectedly. The butler’s hand rested on the small of his back, making every hair on his body stand on end while he drank in the sight of that immaculate complexion in the sunlight.
“A-anything, Mr Kim,” Jongdae stammered.
“The candelabras in the dining room are looking a little dull. The same can be said for those in the entranceway, actually. If you could spruce them up as part of your duties this evening, that would be most helpful.”
“Of course,” he nodded.
Joonmyun gently patted his jacket and flashed a grateful smile that tattooed itself across Jongdae’s retinas before walking ahead. Now every time he blinked those perfect, pink lips stretched with gratitude would flare brightly behind his eyelids. The butler caught up with a number of the female staff and began talking animatedly with dramatic hand motions. The skin on Jongdae’s back still tingled.
You could ask me to do anything, and I would do it, he whispered onto the breeze inside his head.
Anything.
♦♦♦
Lunch was served on time, much to Kris’ delight. His stomach was about ready to digest itself after a tedious service at St Gabriel’s, as always. The elderly vicar could barely enunciate his works correctly with a slack jaw and forgotten reading glasses. Every week he would question his decision to make the church service mandatory for the majority of this employees; they could barely understand English spoken with a perfect tongue, let alone by a tired, wrinkled one. He knew full well, however, that it was for the best. If the native Harting folk were to ever accept his exotic ‘kind’ as part of their impossibly small and tight community, showing face at church was paramount. He just wished it was a little less boring.
“Thank you, Jongdae.” He bowed his head as the footman pulled back his chair and he settled at the table. He’d certainly noticed the boy’s efforts. Jongdae seemed to possess a permanent friendly tilt to his mouth and an approachable disposition that made Kris ponder his future as a footman. Perhaps he could handle more responsibility. He made a mental note to deliberate the possibility once business was over for the week.
Joonmyun stepped forward and handed over the post he’d missed from his previous days away from the House. It was exhausting at times; being eternally driven from London and around Sussex. He adored Sundays purely for the freedom to actually rest.
Jessica soon entered the room and an eager Jongin offered her a seat. She barely raised an eye and sat without a word. The footmen left to retrieve the food and the glorious scent of miniature beef fillets drenched in a Spanish sauce tantalised Kris’ taste buds, filling the room. He looked over at his wife in childish excitement for the meal but she didn’t look up. Instead, he flicked through the bundle in his hands and paused.
“Oh. This is addressed to you.”
Her eyebrows knotted together as she accepted it between her delicate fingers. Clearly she wasn’t expecting any correspondence. Once opened, she unfolded the letter and read the words carefully with a darkening expression that brought a shadow to linger forebodingly over the table. By the end, her lips had thinned to no thicker than a strand of hair and she tossed the paper aside.
Kris’ fork hung expectantly in the air above his plate as he waited for an explanation, but Jessica’s mouth only opened for a sip of her tea.
He cleared his throat. “What is it, darling?”
Her cheek twitched, gently reuniting the cup with its saucer. “Soojung will be paying us a visit next month.”
“Oh.” Kris rested his cutlery with a clink against the fine china. The subject regarding her infamous younger sister was to always be approached with care, if the aftermath of their wedding was anything to go by. “Did she specify a reason why?”
Jessica breathed through clenched teeth. “To explore the sights and sounds of London, supposedly. With a guest.” The sting on her words was more than evident, ringing against the tableware.
“But we don’t live anywhere near London,” Kris mused.
“She’s coming to cause trouble, that’s what it is,” she snapped. Her knuckles whitened.
“Who’s the guest?”
“A mystery; she doesn’t mention it. Although I have a pretty good idea who it is.”
Kris waited for her to elaborate while she stole another gulp of her earl grey.
After a heated inhale, she continued. “I received word from mother only last week that her recent…escapades in New York have caused quite a scandal involving her and the heir to a certain diamond fortune.”
Kris’ mouth fell open. “You don’t mean-?”
“The very same. Word is that they’ve been gallivanting around Seoul ever since and now they’re looking towards Europe. It’s disgusting.” She spat the last word with contempt, signalling the end to the conversation and slicing her breakfast in sharp, angry movements.
Kris nodded. “Quite. Of course.”
And that was that. No more conversation flowed, not another word was uttered; even after Jessica composed herself at the end of her meal and retreated to her quarters with a tight mouth brimming with a frown at its corners.
Kris sighed heavily and leant back in his chair, dejected.
At least there was something exciting to look forward to.
♦♦♦
His cold sandwich stuffed with fatty beef scraps tasted nothing like the heaven His Lordship had eaten but it had satisfied Jongdae’s hunger all the same. He settled his feet in his favourite spot outside the back door and patted his pockets for his cigarettes, but found nothing. He huffed, about to retreat inside again to find the damned things, when a hand shot out in front of his face clasping a single smoke between its tanned fingers.
Jongin smiled. “Looking for one of these?”
“Give me that.” He shot his brother a half-grin and snatched it from his grasp. “No doubt it’s one of mine anyway.”
“You can’t prove anything,” he quipped back, lighting his own cigarette and passing the matches across.
Jongdae chuckled. He’d missed this.
“Next month should be interesting,” he mused. There were clouds in the sky now, but only wispy trails to turn the sunlight hazy. He would’ve given anything to lie on the grass for the rest of the afternoon and watch them sail by but there was work to do. A footman’s job is never done.
Jongin slowly nodded next to him. “So I hear. Who’s the mystery guest, I wonder?”
“Probably just some new-money playboy by the sounds of things. Nothing for us to worry about.”
“If you say so.” Jongin leant back against the wall and flicked ash onto the ground.
After a long silence, he said, “You should talk to him.”
Jongdae didn’t have to ask who he meant.
“Yeah? What makes you say that?”
Jongin twisted around so he was leaning with one shoulder. “Because I don’t want this to come between us. You’re my brother and you mean the world to me, truly…but Sehun’s a part of my life now, too. He’s been such a good…friend these past weeks. It would mean a lot if you two could get along.”
Not by blood.
The words still echoed in his mind although he prayed each day they would disappear. Jongin had never meant them. Hell, the kid had a sharp tongue to flick at times, Jongdae knew this too well. He’d been on the receiving end of it most of his life. Now the eyes that stared down at him glowed with that same excitement at a promising future as it had 2 years previously, and blaming him for anything was an impossibility.
“It’ll be an adventure!” he’d cried on that fateful March morning in Seoul, barely 18 and brimming with dreams and possibilities. He’d prodded the noticeboard with such enthusiasm that Jongdae had to pull his hand away.
He’d emigrated to the other side of the world for those eyes.
Jongdae sighed at the memory. “Fine. I’ll try. Just for you.”
“Thank you.” Jongin gripped his arm with gratitude, biting down a grin spreading across his face.
“Alright, there’s no need to get soppy…” Jongdae laughed, prising off the younger’s grip. “What’s gotten into you?”
Jongin shrugged. “If only I knew.”
Jongdae hummed lightly to himself as he dusted the candelabras, making sure to pinch the cloth in every tight corner and crevice to rid their surfaces of dust and wear.
It wasn’t much of a footman’s job; more of a maid’s area of expertise. In fact, it was often Joohyun’s small hands seen polishing Foxcombe’s delicates, but Jongdae didn’t mind. Joonmyun had asked him personally and his insides still squirmed at the recollection of what had happened only that morning. He mentally kicked himself for dwelling on the feeling of Joonmyun’s fingertips through the fabric of his jacket, but it couldn’t be helped. It spurred him on to make the furniture shine.
He’d just about finished in the entranceway when he caught sight of Joonmyun walking down the corridor from the common room and disappear into the library.
Jongdae realised in that moment how much he wanted, needed, to follow him into that room. Could he do it? Could he improvise and fabricate a conversation point without crumbling like he had so many times before? Had that touch meant something as much as he hoped it had? There was surely only one way to discover the truth, but his feet wouldn’t move.
Until he heard laughter from within.
Curiosity was enough to spur his limbs into movement. It had not only been Joonmyun’s melodic laugh to echo from the room but a girl’s as well. Jongdae edged himself closer to peer through the space between the hinges; a position he was a little too accustomed to. What he saw made his abdomen twist painfully.
Oh.
Joonmyun was leaning over a studious Joohyun, a book open on the table in front of her. From what Jongdae could hear, he was pronouncing random English words and she was repeating them back to him. Occasionally the two would burst into laughter at her mispronunciation while Joonmyun politely corrected her. She twisted a strand of her long, dark hair shyly behind her ear and he leaned closer to underline something on the pages, brushing ever so closely to her neck. Even in the murky light, those blushes shone out distinctly from her round cheeks.
What coiled around Jongdae’s chest felt a lot like a dozen rose vines and they constricted so tightly he couldn’t breathe. He never considered for a second that there could be someone else, would be someone else. In his mind it was only the two of them; perhaps not in that moment but some day. Some day in the future when he would admit his love out loud and wait to hear the same in return from those perfect lips. There wasn’t room for anybody else. There wasn’t any room for her.
And yet she was the one practically leaning against his arm, gazing dreamily up to his chin and giggling coyly to every word she hung onto while Jongdae watched through the thin film of reality that kept him and his angel apart.
It was as though Destiny herself had spun the silky strands with her long, bony fingers and strung the web across the space between them. No matter how hard you clawed through it, the delicate ropes with strength like diamond would stick and bend and tangle to your skin - but never break - until you were helplessly cocooned with no hope of breaking free. It was suffocating.
That was how it felt to love someone through the gaps.
And it hurt.
♦♦♦
“Have Yixing get the car ready for 7:30. I wish to leave promptly.”
“Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”
Kris’ throat hummed in thought as he and Joonmyun strolled together down the corridor.
“I’ll read the Times with an early breakfast tomorrow - and be sure to request some of those delicious pancakes to the cook on my behalf. The blueberry and honey variety she concocted last week were divine.” His mouth watered at the memory. He was sure even Jessica cracked a smile to their rich flavour.
“Certainly, sir. Will that be all for tonight?”
“I think so. Good night, Mr Kim.”
“Good night, sir.” Joonmyun bowed his head and retreated back down the hallway.
Kris’ hand had lingered on the door knob to his bedroom. He had every intention of getting an early night but something possessed him to continue walking. The corridor snaked its way around the entire first floor and ended with Jessica’s private room. It had been long while since he’d visited it so late. His lips tilted at the memory of the two of them barely resisting her quarters in Seoul with wild hands and that glint in her eye that told him she couldn’t wait until their wedding night. Those days were long gone, now. She barely spoke to him.
“Come back to me, Jessie,” he whispered against the frame. “Just tell me what to do to make you smile like that again.”
He blamed himself. He always blamed himself.
He just didn’t know what to do.
♦♦♦
Writing his letter that night was a little more than painful, but he was determined not to mention her name.
Is that who you dream about at night? Is that who secretly tugs at your heartstrings as you do mine?
I need to know or I’ll die here.
When you try your hardest not to think about something, suddenly it’s the only thing your brain can piece together behind your eyes, projecting the reality you don’t want so you feel weak and nauseated with a constant reminder of what you can’t unsee.
Jongdae gripped the pen so hard his fingers whitened as he scratched the final words. To make matters worse, he kept meticulously analysing his memories for hints of the two of them together: had he sat next to her at St Gabriel’s? Had he walked with her on the way there? Had they exchanged flirting glances or spoken in hushed tones in the corners where nobody would notice? Jongdae couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been blind enough to miss the warning signs all along. Where had his mind been the whole time?
Well, he knew the answer to that.
He let out a long breath between his lips and folded up the page, slipping it inside an envelope as he always did and sealing the top. It was destined to join the pile of others hidden under the mattress, never to be read by another pair of eyes except one other. If he ever had the courage to send them.
What would he see in her? She was pretty enough but so plain. An angel like that deserved stunning, not that Jongdae slotted himself into that category at all. But something so otherworldly would never fall for a mere mortal, surely? She did love to read, which was Joonmyun’s Achilles’ heel no doubt. She was friendly, too, and pleasant to everyone. Jongdae found himself growing contempt for someone he’d barely spoken to over the two years he’d worked at the House. This is what desire did to him when the caught his only wish shooting across a different sky.
Instead of torturing himself any further with that image, he decided to alter it somewhat. What would he have done in that situation, with Joonmyun so close and leaning over his shoulder? Pale skin would’ve shone between his chin and his collar and Jongdae was sure he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on any English lessons. The insides of his thighs twitched.
He shifted on the bed, leaning back against the meagre quilt and propping his head up on the pillow. Jongin was out; more than likely frolicking with that Sehun kid, the one who barely spoke a word to anyone else. He had the room to himself to enjoy his rogue fantasies and forget about reality for a while.
Jongdae slid a hand down onto his crotch and began stroking purposefully against the fabric of his trousers. It didn’t take him very long to get hard, not with the thought of Joonmyun’s teasing skin and the imaginary glances he’d shoot down through his relentless mistakes. Jongdae had never been able to pick up English very easily, and Joonmyun would surely find his efforts endearing or, perhaps, even adorable. At least, in this fantasy he did. Jongdae would smile and playfully touch his arm and, in the alternate reality, their faces would meet only inches apart and he’d possess the stark confidence to press his lips firmly against his teacher’s mouth. Joonmyun wouldn’t pull away. His eyes would widen in shock before fluttering closed and, soon enough, the book would be strewn across the floor, forgotten, while their mouths opened to each other’s touch.
Joonmyun’s clothes wouldn’t stay on for long, not with Jongdae’s itchy fingers. He’d tear them off if he had to, including his own; anything to remove that final barrier between their bodies and rub his chest against the other’s. He yearned to lick those delicious collarbones and pluck at those nipples and soon the Jongdae in reality was slipping his fingers around the bulging cock in his underwear and imagining it was Joonmyun’s hand taking over with secret urges while a pair of lips moaned at his neck.
Jongdae would expect him to be shy at first, maybe even a little cautious. To break his reluctance, he’d push the butler against the wooden table and trail kisses down his torso before reaching his hips and closing his lips around Joonmyun’s salted head. He’d lavish the shaft and tease the helmet relentlessly until he’d throw his head back from the pleasure and rake his fingers through Jongdae’s hair. In the end, it would all be too much for the not-so-innocent angel who would reluctantly prise Jongdae’s mouth from his crotch and throw him onto the table to take over; drilling roughly into him with a tensed face and sweat beads dripping from his temples and words like “I need you” leaking from his tongue while Jongdae dug into Joonmyun’s back with his fingertips until-
A strained groan vibrated from his throat as he arched his back into the mattress, eyes clenched shut and seeing stars, while the warm seed dripped over his fingers. He gasped for air with a mouth wide open and tugged at his member a few final times, gripping the sheet with his free hand and savouring the orgasm. A small cramp stirred in his calf from tensing so much but he didn’t care. It was worth it to see, even for a second, the flash of Joonmyun’s hungry eyes as he came inside of him.
The day it would actually happen couldn’t arrive any sooner.
Jongdae exhaled with frustration and rolled over. It was late, far too late to still be fidgeting with restlessness but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall to sleep. His mouth was parched and his tongue felt like it was covered in sand but the jug next to his bed was devoid of any water. As was Jongin’s, which didn’t come as a surprise. It had been days since he’d slept in that room. Grudgingly, Jongdae threw his legs over the side and slipped on a dressing gown with the intent of pattering down to the kitchens. The stone floor, like slabs of ice under his feet, made his toes curl uncomfortably from the cold. He’d made it two steps out of his door when the faintest melody, like a bird’s song, tickled his ears in the gloom.
A piano.
His stomach jittered. He knew who that was.
Using his fingertips, he felt his way up the servant’s stairs and into Foxcombe’s grand foyer. The music seemed to be coming from the common room where he could picture the grand piano standing proud by the window. The way in was half open and, just before he peered inside, Jongdae prepared himself for the sight about to befall him.
Sure enough, Joonmyun was sat at the glorious instrument, bent over the keys that he caressed so skilfully. His silhouette was framed by the moonlight and a single flame flickering weakly so a milky halo glowed around his outline.
Jongdae knew he couldn’t do this anymore. Loitering in doorways only caused him more unnecessary pain to press against his ribs and the pressure was becoming a little too much. It was unhealthy to stare so longingly at what he couldn’t have, what he couldn’t hold. Perhaps once he’d finished writing his letters he’d allow himself to possess such feelings, but for now it was rotting away his heart’s enamel. He made to turn and disappear underground again but he lost his footing momentarily and had to grab the door to keep his balance. Naturally, this made the door creak and Joonmyun’s head spun around as the music stopped.
The butler peered curiously in his direction. “Jongdae? Is that you?”
Something thunked in his abdomen. “S-sorry to disturb you, I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Joonmyun chuckled. He patted the space next to him on the seat invitingly. “Come in.”
Surprisingly, Jongdae didn’t hesitate. He scooted quietly over the floor and perched himself on the bench. Joonmyun tapped the seat again to tell him to move closer since he’d left such a gap between them and he shuffled shyly until their legs almost touched. He was hypnotised by the butler’s finger movements.
“It sounds…so beautiful.”
“Can you play?”
Jongdae shook his head. “Not well.” It was a humble lie.
Even in the darkness, Joonmyun’s shy smile shone brighter than any star could dream. “Let me teach you.”
He reached down to clasp at Jongdae’s trembling fingers, resting his own gently on top to puppeteer their movements. He lifted their two hands to the keys and pressed down on Jongdae’s nails to make them sing beneath his touch, ringing out a beautiful sound to echo in the still air. Jongdae recognised the song as Joonmyun’s favourite to play late at night, but he had no idea where it originated. Perhaps the butler had composed it himself. He was perfect like that.
Jongdae was sure his heart was fluttering in his chest loud enough to reverberate over the soft sounds of the piano. His lips and mouth were dry because he couldn’t close them, not yet. Not with Joonmyun touching him the way he was; stroking his fingers and holding his hand so delicately. Each note that played plucked the individual strings of his soul and left the rest to weep.
“See? It’s not difficult. You’re a natural,” Joonmyun grinned.
“Only when you’re holding me.”
Their gazes met in the near-black and time stopped for a few moments. He didn’t regret the words he spoke, not a single one.
“Only when I’m holding you…” the butler pondered, turning back to the music.
But he didn’t let go.
♦♦♦
“Hey! Wake up! It’s just me!”
“W-what?”
Sehun’s eyes flew open. Jongin was leaning over his face, hands clasped tightly around his wrists to restrain them. At the feeling of his dark fingers pressing into his skin and, no doubt, leaning faint, red marks he relaxed slightly and croaked, “Jongin, I-”
“Shh, it’s just me,” he repeated, now stroking his face in a soothing voice. “Are you okay?”
Sehun gulped through a dry throat. “Yes…I think so…was I-?”
He nodded. “Yeah, you were…thrashing and shouting. Again.”
Sehun closed his eyes again momentarily. The heated flashes flickered behind his vision and curled painfully around his throat. Had he really seen what he’d seen? It sent dark shivers down his spine as nausea bubbled in his stomach.
When he opened them again, Jongin’s beautiful features calmed his frantic thoughts.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
“It’s no problem.” Jongin pecked affectionately at his forehead, leaving a tingling sensation where his mouth had met Sehun’s skin, and retreated back to the bed on the other side of the room. He’d been sleeping there a lot lately. His excuse was Sehun’s safety but Sehun hoped it was more than that. The sly kisses and wandering hands probably fuelled the idea to begin with, although he always slept in the other bed like a gentleman.
However, tonight wasn’t a night to be polite. The nightmares were becoming clearer, sharper, just as they always did after time. Everything was coming into focus and it was terrifying Sehun to his core.
“Jongin?” he muttered.
“Yeah?” came a muffled voice in reply.
“Can you sleep…in this bed tonight? With me?”
Sheets ruffled. “S-sure. Of course.”
Jongin slipped out of bed again as Sehun rolled over onto his side and he felt the other manoeuvre himself to fit against his back, wrapping his long arms around Sehun’s waist. He felt safe in the warm bath of Jongin’s body heat as he nuzzled his nose into the back of his hair.
Jongin’s soft voice broke the silence. “These nightmares that you suffer with…what is it you see?”
When Sehun didn’t answer, he felt Jongin lever himself onto his elbows, leaning down. “Sehun, what do you see?”
It almost hurt to bend his tongue around the word but he forced his quaking lips to whisper it against his pillow.
“Fire.”
Chapter Four