Who Will Drive My Soul?
Title: Who Will Drive My Soul?
Pairing: Sehun/Kai
Author: aulio123
Summary: In which Jongin has bipolar and Sehun may just be the perfect medication.
Warnings: mention of attempt at self-harm, cursing, sexy time
"I like myself better when I'm with you.”
-Mitch Albom
---
The New York City skyline is the most beautiful from the Brooklyn Bridge, especially at night. He comes here often. However, unlike the over-excited, stereotypical tourists who seek the breathtaking views, he comes here to get away from everything and clear his mind completely. His life revolves around all that is downtown Manhattan-although, if you ask him, that entire island feels like a downtown. The sight may be beautiful, but the city is hideous, full of ugly people with their ugly personalities. But here, sitting on this bridge, it’s as if he is just another person in this insanely large world; he can step outside of the hectic whirlwind that is his life and take a second to simply overlook what he has done and where he has come. Sometimes he wonders to himself why he has not left this city of filth yet-he has the money and he has the name. The fame and fortune would follow him anywhere he would choose to go. It is a question he has yet to answer.
“I have had these dreams lately, or dream singular rather. It is reoccurring and I wake every night in a cold sweat.” Jongin says, looking anywhere but the eyes of his psychiatrist. “In this dream, I am standing on the Brooklyn Bridge, but I am alone. Instead of the skyline ahead, everything is dark. Pitch black darkness. The only light is the lone lamp post at my side and the moon over my head. Looking down at the speeding cars passing by, I jump.” His psychiatrist’s eyes widen at the implications. “However,” he rescues himself, “before I hit the water, I wake to the comfort of my flat. No bridge, no racing cars, and no jumping.” Finally he looks his psychiatrist in the eye. “Well, Jongin. This is a bit concerning. How often do you have this dream?” Jongin ponders. How long had it been going on now? “About every night for the past month.” Her mouth sports a disapproving frown. “We’ll up your medication, see what that does.”
---
It’s nothing new to Jongin. Ever since he was a teenager, he’s been on medicine. It never seems to work-at least not in the long run. You name it; he’s been on it. The doctors all say that his case is one they really haven’t seen before. It’s treatable for a month or two and then it’s like he’s numb to the meds. Some days, Jongin thinks, he’d rather be dead. Other days, it’s like he’s on the top of the world; invincible.
Some say he’s just a spoiled brat, that he has absolutely no reason to be unhappy in life. Others seem to understand, or at least they think they do. Then again, how can you understand something that you’ve never experienced? You can’t. It’s cynical, he knows. You can’t help it when you’re the son of one of the most well known Korean-American businessmen in the world. And when your parents don’t even want you, that cynicism is even worse.
---
Any other night he’d be chasing skirts, looking for a skanky girl at a bar to take home. He hates being alone. But tonight, he just wanted to drink. And drink. And maybe drink some more. Drink until he was sloshed and stumbling back to his car and chauffer. As he enters the club, he vaguely notes that it’s one he’s never been to. As the bartender prepares his first drink of the night, he turns to take in the atmosphere. This is where he belongs, not in an office all day. He loves this life. The people are all a blur, and he can be himself here, not Kim Jongin. As he turns back to the bar, he takes his drink from the counter and sips on it. Yeah, this is going to be a great night. He smiles to himself.
---
It’s after he’s had his seventh drink of the night when he hears someone talking about him, or maybe to him. He’s not sure. “Dark skin, dark hair. You’re a bit mysterious.” He turns to the owner of that voice, a young kid, maybe nineteen like himself. He has hair the color of cotton candy, red here, blue there. “I know I’m quite a sight, but you don’t have to stare at me. You’re going to make me blush!” The kid teases. Jongin shrugs. This is really going to be a bother. “Hey I was just kidding! What’s your name?” The kid seems way too close all of a sudden. Jongin thinks to himself for a second before he blurts out, ‘Kai.” He blinks at his reflection in his glass. It’s been years since anyone has called him that, a nickname from high school. “Hmmm. Well, Kai. Do you wanna dance with me?” The kid purrs and Jongin is beginning to think this is some sick joke. He glances at the kid, now giving him puppy eyes, looking four years younger than he actually is. “Fine.” He grumbles. He always was a people pleaser.
The kid leads him into the crowd with his fingers heavy on Jongin’s arm. It’s been years, and Jongin just stands there, awkward. But the kid, whose name he doesn’t even know, is lost in the music. Jongin watches the curves of his body undulate in the flashing lights and it’s hypnotizing. The kid turns to Jongin and gives him a look saying, “what are you doing?” So Jongin starts with the swing of his hips and soon he doesn’t even know where he is, just that this kid has his hands all over him and the music is so loud. As the song dies down, Jongin comes back to his senses. He blinks and looks at the kid in front of him, who is smiling like an idiot. “You’re really good at dancing, Kai~” the kid says in that teasing tone again. “Uh yeah, thanks. Did I ever get your name?” Jongin asks. “Oh so now you’re interested? It’s Sehun,” the kid coos. And in that moment, Jongin hoped he’d see this ‘Sehun’ more often.
---
It wasn’t for a couple weeks later that Jongin saw Sehun again. It was a different club, somewhere in Jersey, but Sehun’s hair was still a mixture of pastels lit up by the strobe lights. Since their encounter, all Jongin’s thoughts were of rainbow hair and tight black skinny jeans hugging sinfully sculpted thighs. He wouldn’t let anyone know that though, no. Kim Jongin was straight. He was the son of one of the most powerful businessmen in Manhattan and soon to take over the company. That would just ruin everything. “You look like you have your mind on things.” A voice brought him from his thought. Bright colored hair stole his vision. “Hi Kai! I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, but here we are. It’s funny how things work, huh?” Jongin just nodded. “Let’s get some drinks.” Sehun said, practically dragging him to the bar.
---
Somewhere in between the drinks and the dancing and everything that is Sehun, Jongin says, “Let’s get out of here.” To where, he’s not sure. So they walk. They find themselves on the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s way past three in the morning, and they are both a little drunk. “I’m here every night in my dreams,” Jongin says, mindlessly, glancing down to the cars passing below. “Haha yeah, what dreams?” Sehun slurs. “I dunno. They’re weird.” Jongin looks up at the stars in the sky, wondering which ones have died and which ones are still very much alive. “Kai.” Sehun whispers. Jongin looks beside him, Sehun staring at the sky as well. “I like you, Kai.” Sehun says, now looking into Jongin’s eyes. Jongin’s heartbeat picks up. It’s been years, and he’s not sure. But he doesn’t have time to think before soft lips are pressed into his. So he doesn’t think, and he presses his lips back. They kiss like that for a while, Sehun’s hands finding their way to Jongin’s hips.
---
They see each other like that into the winter months; a club, some drinks, a few dances, maybe an intense make-out session in a bathroom stall. Jongin never tells him who he really is because, honestly, he doesn’t want to lose Sehun. Everything is going well; the meds are working, he’s soon to take over his father’s business, and now he has Sehun. He feels like nothing can defeat him.
“Jongin, there’s someone here to meet with you.” His secretary, a pretty, young American girl, calls through the doorway. “Bring them in.” Jongin says, sitting up in his chair. What he expects is another businessman trying to make a deal with the company. What he doesn’t expect is Sehun, red-rimmed eyes as if he’d just been crying. His heartbeat picks up. “Sehun...” he whispers, his secretary shutting the door behind said boy. “Are you okay?” Jongin starts but is interrupted. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Kim fucking Jongin?” Oh. He knew this would catch up to him. He is speechless, because he knows he’s royally fucked up. “How long have we been seeing each other and you can’t even tell me who you are?” Sehun is furious, hands balled into fists. Fresh tears run down his face. “Don’t call me. Don’t try to find me. Just don’t.” Sehu says, turning to the door. “Sehun, wait-“ but Jongin’s too late, the door slamming open and Sehun’s retreating figure in the distance.
That night, Jongin’s medicine stops working. Or maybe he just finally gives up.
---
“Jongin, I’ve had enough of this.” His dad grumbles. Jongin is silent. He’s learned not to argue. “I’m sick of these mood swings you throw just for attention. If you’re going to run a business, you need to stop acting like a child.” Jongin lets his eyes roam to the floor. “Yes sir, I’m sorry.” He nearly whispers. He glances to his mom, a disapproving look on her face. “You don’t need to be seeing doctors because this is all in your head. Straighten up. I’m officially retiring in a month, so get yourself sorted out.” His dad leaves him. Jongin gives his mother one last helpless look, but her stoic face does not change as she leaves him too. All alone, again.
So they take him off his medicine. “It’s just poison anyway. You’ll be healthier without it, son,” his dad tells him. They know nothing. They don’t know that it’s the last thing giving him a reason to not go completely insane.
That night, Jongin sits alone in his flat, looking at the ceiling. He wishes he could sleep forever and never wake up. He wishes he could just die. He isn’t ready to take over an entire business. So he does the logical thing and goes into his bathroom. He has some leftover pills in the cabinet that he hid from his parents. He opens the bottle and takes a couple. Half an hour passes and nothing. He takes a couple more. Nothing. Fifteen pills later, he’s sitting over his toilet throwing everything he’d eaten all day up into the toilet. He doesn’t even know what’s going on, so he passes out.
---
A week passes and Jongin has locked himself in his flat for the entire time. He doesn’t remember the last time he ate. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept. He lies on his couch and then he remembers, the dreams. Yes, the dreams.
Jongin finds himself on the Brooklyn Bridge that night. It’s three in the morning and the bridge is empty. Jongin looks into the black sky, wondering which stars are dead and which ones are still very much alive. He looks down at the cars passing by. It would be so easy. He doesn’t know what he’s doing before he is up on the ledge. One foot steps into the air. “Don’t.” He hears from behind him. “Jongin please don’t.” It’s a familiar voice, shaken with tears. He turns. Sehun is racing toward him, tears falling. “Get down from there, you stupid idiot!” Sehun pleads. He takes Jongin’s hand and yanks him back down to the bridge, and then he latches onto him like he’s the last thing on Earth. Jongin is numb, still oblivious to what he was about to do. He’s numb.
They’re back in his flat. He sits on the couch, face expressionless. Sehun has made them hot chocolate, but he hasn’t touched it. He’s wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly ahead. It’s quiet. And then, “how did you find me?” slips from his lips. Sehun frowns at himself. “I heard about your disorder and I had to see you. I asked your parents where you lived, said I was a close friend from school. You never answered the door, and I was about to give up but then I remembered; the dreams. I ran to find a cab, Jongin. When I saw you there, I couldn’t breathe. Why are you so stupid?” Sehun rambles on. Jongin scoffs. “Yeah, I’m stupid. I’m a disappointment. I’m a mess, Sehun.” Jongin is a bit ticked off now. Sehun simply nods his head. “You are a mess, Jongin. And I love it.” He says simply. “I know why you did what you did now. Jongin, you should have just told me. I wouldn’t have cared.” Sehun breathes a heavy sigh, as if he finally got something big off his chest. They sit quietly for a while.
Jongin finally turns to Sehun, looking him in the eyes, his own watery. “Promise you won’t leave me again. Like you did.” Sehun begins to tear up, most likely regretting his past actions. “I promise.” He whispers. Jongin feels at peace with that, and leans forward to attach his lips to Sehun’s. He’d missed how Sehun tasted, like vanilla and spice at the same time. He exhales deeply, Sehun parting his lips to let Jongin in. They kiss for a while before Jongin shoves Sehun down onto the couch gently, forcing him to lie down. Jongin pulls away, stopping a moment to take Sehun in; his once rainbow hair is a dark brown now, but he doesn’t look any less beautiful to Jongin. He runs his hands through it carefully. Sehun simply smiles up at him. “I really like you, Kai.” He whispers. Jongin kisses him like Sehun is the last person he has in his life-which isn’t far from the truth.
That night, Jongin makes love to Sehun. It’s not a simple fuck like so many girls before. It’s different in that way that Jongin keeps kissing him, leaving a mark or two on his collarbones; in the way that Sehun calls out “Jongin” when he releases. It’s different. It’s beautiful. When they’re done, Jongin lies next to Sehun in his king sized bed, drawing pointless shapes on Sehun’s back. Sehun turns to him. “I think I love you, Jongin.”
---
A few weeks later, Jongin steps off a plane in Canada, Sehun’s hand laced in his. He still has his ups and downs, but he’s back on his medicine, and Sehun keeps him from going crazy anymore. Today he was supposed to take over his dad’s company. He’d kill to see the look on his dad’s face when he can’t find his son anywhere, gone. But then again, he can’t find it in himself to care. He knows that his parents will cut his access to their bank account. He has a small sum of money saved up, though, enough to get Sehun and himself a decent place in Toronto. He has a friend, Kris, who is willing to set him up with a job. “Hellooo,” Sehun brings him from his thoughts. “You’re thinking too much again. Stop that.” Sehun says, plainly. Jongin leans in to steal a kiss. Yeah, they’ll be just fine.
------------
A/N: Soooo this happened. I wrote this for my senior language arts project last year (obviously not Sekai and no smut but yeah). I dunno. I hate it. It's really personal and I guess I just don't like sharing, but I was told it was "amazing" so I posted it. So uhm yeah I guess you can leave comments?
Disclaimer: I wish Oh Sehun was mine but he is not (Neither is Jongin btw). Aka, I own nothing but the plot.
Pairing: Sehun/Kai
Author: aulio123
Summary: In which Jongin has bipolar and Sehun may just be the perfect medication.
Warnings: mention of attempt at self-harm, cursing, sexy time
"I like myself better when I'm with you.”
-Mitch Albom
---
The New York City skyline is the most beautiful from the Brooklyn Bridge, especially at night. He comes here often. However, unlike the over-excited, stereotypical tourists who seek the breathtaking views, he comes here to get away from everything and clear his mind completely. His life revolves around all that is downtown Manhattan-although, if you ask him, that entire island feels like a downtown. The sight may be beautiful, but the city is hideous, full of ugly people with their ugly personalities. But here, sitting on this bridge, it’s as if he is just another person in this insanely large world; he can step outside of the hectic whirlwind that is his life and take a second to simply overlook what he has done and where he has come. Sometimes he wonders to himself why he has not left this city of filth yet-he has the money and he has the name. The fame and fortune would follow him anywhere he would choose to go. It is a question he has yet to answer.
“I have had these dreams lately, or dream singular rather. It is reoccurring and I wake every night in a cold sweat.” Jongin says, looking anywhere but the eyes of his psychiatrist. “In this dream, I am standing on the Brooklyn Bridge, but I am alone. Instead of the skyline ahead, everything is dark. Pitch black darkness. The only light is the lone lamp post at my side and the moon over my head. Looking down at the speeding cars passing by, I jump.” His psychiatrist’s eyes widen at the implications. “However,” he rescues himself, “before I hit the water, I wake to the comfort of my flat. No bridge, no racing cars, and no jumping.” Finally he looks his psychiatrist in the eye. “Well, Jongin. This is a bit concerning. How often do you have this dream?” Jongin ponders. How long had it been going on now? “About every night for the past month.” Her mouth sports a disapproving frown. “We’ll up your medication, see what that does.”
---
It’s nothing new to Jongin. Ever since he was a teenager, he’s been on medicine. It never seems to work-at least not in the long run. You name it; he’s been on it. The doctors all say that his case is one they really haven’t seen before. It’s treatable for a month or two and then it’s like he’s numb to the meds. Some days, Jongin thinks, he’d rather be dead. Other days, it’s like he’s on the top of the world; invincible.
Some say he’s just a spoiled brat, that he has absolutely no reason to be unhappy in life. Others seem to understand, or at least they think they do. Then again, how can you understand something that you’ve never experienced? You can’t. It’s cynical, he knows. You can’t help it when you’re the son of one of the most well known Korean-American businessmen in the world. And when your parents don’t even want you, that cynicism is even worse.
---
Any other night he’d be chasing skirts, looking for a skanky girl at a bar to take home. He hates being alone. But tonight, he just wanted to drink. And drink. And maybe drink some more. Drink until he was sloshed and stumbling back to his car and chauffer. As he enters the club, he vaguely notes that it’s one he’s never been to. As the bartender prepares his first drink of the night, he turns to take in the atmosphere. This is where he belongs, not in an office all day. He loves this life. The people are all a blur, and he can be himself here, not Kim Jongin. As he turns back to the bar, he takes his drink from the counter and sips on it. Yeah, this is going to be a great night. He smiles to himself.
---
It’s after he’s had his seventh drink of the night when he hears someone talking about him, or maybe to him. He’s not sure. “Dark skin, dark hair. You’re a bit mysterious.” He turns to the owner of that voice, a young kid, maybe nineteen like himself. He has hair the color of cotton candy, red here, blue there. “I know I’m quite a sight, but you don’t have to stare at me. You’re going to make me blush!” The kid teases. Jongin shrugs. This is really going to be a bother. “Hey I was just kidding! What’s your name?” The kid seems way too close all of a sudden. Jongin thinks to himself for a second before he blurts out, ‘Kai.” He blinks at his reflection in his glass. It’s been years since anyone has called him that, a nickname from high school. “Hmmm. Well, Kai. Do you wanna dance with me?” The kid purrs and Jongin is beginning to think this is some sick joke. He glances at the kid, now giving him puppy eyes, looking four years younger than he actually is. “Fine.” He grumbles. He always was a people pleaser.
The kid leads him into the crowd with his fingers heavy on Jongin’s arm. It’s been years, and Jongin just stands there, awkward. But the kid, whose name he doesn’t even know, is lost in the music. Jongin watches the curves of his body undulate in the flashing lights and it’s hypnotizing. The kid turns to Jongin and gives him a look saying, “what are you doing?” So Jongin starts with the swing of his hips and soon he doesn’t even know where he is, just that this kid has his hands all over him and the music is so loud. As the song dies down, Jongin comes back to his senses. He blinks and looks at the kid in front of him, who is smiling like an idiot. “You’re really good at dancing, Kai~” the kid says in that teasing tone again. “Uh yeah, thanks. Did I ever get your name?” Jongin asks. “Oh so now you’re interested? It’s Sehun,” the kid coos. And in that moment, Jongin hoped he’d see this ‘Sehun’ more often.
---
It wasn’t for a couple weeks later that Jongin saw Sehun again. It was a different club, somewhere in Jersey, but Sehun’s hair was still a mixture of pastels lit up by the strobe lights. Since their encounter, all Jongin’s thoughts were of rainbow hair and tight black skinny jeans hugging sinfully sculpted thighs. He wouldn’t let anyone know that though, no. Kim Jongin was straight. He was the son of one of the most powerful businessmen in Manhattan and soon to take over the company. That would just ruin everything. “You look like you have your mind on things.” A voice brought him from his thought. Bright colored hair stole his vision. “Hi Kai! I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, but here we are. It’s funny how things work, huh?” Jongin just nodded. “Let’s get some drinks.” Sehun said, practically dragging him to the bar.
---
Somewhere in between the drinks and the dancing and everything that is Sehun, Jongin says, “Let’s get out of here.” To where, he’s not sure. So they walk. They find themselves on the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s way past three in the morning, and they are both a little drunk. “I’m here every night in my dreams,” Jongin says, mindlessly, glancing down to the cars passing below. “Haha yeah, what dreams?” Sehun slurs. “I dunno. They’re weird.” Jongin looks up at the stars in the sky, wondering which ones have died and which ones are still very much alive. “Kai.” Sehun whispers. Jongin looks beside him, Sehun staring at the sky as well. “I like you, Kai.” Sehun says, now looking into Jongin’s eyes. Jongin’s heartbeat picks up. It’s been years, and he’s not sure. But he doesn’t have time to think before soft lips are pressed into his. So he doesn’t think, and he presses his lips back. They kiss like that for a while, Sehun’s hands finding their way to Jongin’s hips.
---
They see each other like that into the winter months; a club, some drinks, a few dances, maybe an intense make-out session in a bathroom stall. Jongin never tells him who he really is because, honestly, he doesn’t want to lose Sehun. Everything is going well; the meds are working, he’s soon to take over his father’s business, and now he has Sehun. He feels like nothing can defeat him.
“Jongin, there’s someone here to meet with you.” His secretary, a pretty, young American girl, calls through the doorway. “Bring them in.” Jongin says, sitting up in his chair. What he expects is another businessman trying to make a deal with the company. What he doesn’t expect is Sehun, red-rimmed eyes as if he’d just been crying. His heartbeat picks up. “Sehun...” he whispers, his secretary shutting the door behind said boy. “Are you okay?” Jongin starts but is interrupted. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Kim fucking Jongin?” Oh. He knew this would catch up to him. He is speechless, because he knows he’s royally fucked up. “How long have we been seeing each other and you can’t even tell me who you are?” Sehun is furious, hands balled into fists. Fresh tears run down his face. “Don’t call me. Don’t try to find me. Just don’t.” Sehu says, turning to the door. “Sehun, wait-“ but Jongin’s too late, the door slamming open and Sehun’s retreating figure in the distance.
That night, Jongin’s medicine stops working. Or maybe he just finally gives up.
---
“Jongin, I’ve had enough of this.” His dad grumbles. Jongin is silent. He’s learned not to argue. “I’m sick of these mood swings you throw just for attention. If you’re going to run a business, you need to stop acting like a child.” Jongin lets his eyes roam to the floor. “Yes sir, I’m sorry.” He nearly whispers. He glances to his mom, a disapproving look on her face. “You don’t need to be seeing doctors because this is all in your head. Straighten up. I’m officially retiring in a month, so get yourself sorted out.” His dad leaves him. Jongin gives his mother one last helpless look, but her stoic face does not change as she leaves him too. All alone, again.
So they take him off his medicine. “It’s just poison anyway. You’ll be healthier without it, son,” his dad tells him. They know nothing. They don’t know that it’s the last thing giving him a reason to not go completely insane.
That night, Jongin sits alone in his flat, looking at the ceiling. He wishes he could sleep forever and never wake up. He wishes he could just die. He isn’t ready to take over an entire business. So he does the logical thing and goes into his bathroom. He has some leftover pills in the cabinet that he hid from his parents. He opens the bottle and takes a couple. Half an hour passes and nothing. He takes a couple more. Nothing. Fifteen pills later, he’s sitting over his toilet throwing everything he’d eaten all day up into the toilet. He doesn’t even know what’s going on, so he passes out.
---
A week passes and Jongin has locked himself in his flat for the entire time. He doesn’t remember the last time he ate. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept. He lies on his couch and then he remembers, the dreams. Yes, the dreams.
Jongin finds himself on the Brooklyn Bridge that night. It’s three in the morning and the bridge is empty. Jongin looks into the black sky, wondering which stars are dead and which ones are still very much alive. He looks down at the cars passing by. It would be so easy. He doesn’t know what he’s doing before he is up on the ledge. One foot steps into the air. “Don’t.” He hears from behind him. “Jongin please don’t.” It’s a familiar voice, shaken with tears. He turns. Sehun is racing toward him, tears falling. “Get down from there, you stupid idiot!” Sehun pleads. He takes Jongin’s hand and yanks him back down to the bridge, and then he latches onto him like he’s the last thing on Earth. Jongin is numb, still oblivious to what he was about to do. He’s numb.
They’re back in his flat. He sits on the couch, face expressionless. Sehun has made them hot chocolate, but he hasn’t touched it. He’s wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly ahead. It’s quiet. And then, “how did you find me?” slips from his lips. Sehun frowns at himself. “I heard about your disorder and I had to see you. I asked your parents where you lived, said I was a close friend from school. You never answered the door, and I was about to give up but then I remembered; the dreams. I ran to find a cab, Jongin. When I saw you there, I couldn’t breathe. Why are you so stupid?” Sehun rambles on. Jongin scoffs. “Yeah, I’m stupid. I’m a disappointment. I’m a mess, Sehun.” Jongin is a bit ticked off now. Sehun simply nods his head. “You are a mess, Jongin. And I love it.” He says simply. “I know why you did what you did now. Jongin, you should have just told me. I wouldn’t have cared.” Sehun breathes a heavy sigh, as if he finally got something big off his chest. They sit quietly for a while.
Jongin finally turns to Sehun, looking him in the eyes, his own watery. “Promise you won’t leave me again. Like you did.” Sehun begins to tear up, most likely regretting his past actions. “I promise.” He whispers. Jongin feels at peace with that, and leans forward to attach his lips to Sehun’s. He’d missed how Sehun tasted, like vanilla and spice at the same time. He exhales deeply, Sehun parting his lips to let Jongin in. They kiss for a while before Jongin shoves Sehun down onto the couch gently, forcing him to lie down. Jongin pulls away, stopping a moment to take Sehun in; his once rainbow hair is a dark brown now, but he doesn’t look any less beautiful to Jongin. He runs his hands through it carefully. Sehun simply smiles up at him. “I really like you, Kai.” He whispers. Jongin kisses him like Sehun is the last person he has in his life-which isn’t far from the truth.
That night, Jongin makes love to Sehun. It’s not a simple fuck like so many girls before. It’s different in that way that Jongin keeps kissing him, leaving a mark or two on his collarbones; in the way that Sehun calls out “Jongin” when he releases. It’s different. It’s beautiful. When they’re done, Jongin lies next to Sehun in his king sized bed, drawing pointless shapes on Sehun’s back. Sehun turns to him. “I think I love you, Jongin.”
---
A few weeks later, Jongin steps off a plane in Canada, Sehun’s hand laced in his. He still has his ups and downs, but he’s back on his medicine, and Sehun keeps him from going crazy anymore. Today he was supposed to take over his dad’s company. He’d kill to see the look on his dad’s face when he can’t find his son anywhere, gone. But then again, he can’t find it in himself to care. He knows that his parents will cut his access to their bank account. He has a small sum of money saved up, though, enough to get Sehun and himself a decent place in Toronto. He has a friend, Kris, who is willing to set him up with a job. “Hellooo,” Sehun brings him from his thoughts. “You’re thinking too much again. Stop that.” Sehun says, plainly. Jongin leans in to steal a kiss. Yeah, they’ll be just fine.
------------
A/N: Soooo this happened. I wrote this for my senior language arts project last year (obviously not Sekai and no smut but yeah). I dunno. I hate it. It's really personal and I guess I just don't like sharing, but I was told it was "amazing" so I posted it. So uhm yeah I guess you can leave comments?
Disclaimer: I wish Oh Sehun was mine but he is not (Neither is Jongin btw). Aka, I own nothing but the plot.