DAY 8: zugunruhe winter

[lovemixmod]

Title: zugunruhe winter
Written by: portaldice
Pairing: Kai/Sehun
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character 'death'
Summary: Jongin dances and dances until he’s sick of it, and Sehun is the seasonal wind that offers him five chances at direction. They blow the fourth one, but at least the snow's still pretty.
A/N: Also a semi AU where Exo debuts with only the six earliest-casted members.



Jongin is four years old when he makes his first wish, and nine when he makes his second. He's eighteen when he's offered a chance to make a third and Sehun knows how it's so, so tempting to take shortcuts.

"You still have three wishes, you know," Sehun says, seated on the windowsill. His legs are swung over its edge and facing the early evening mist, but he kicks his feet as if he's not dangling from the seventh floor. "Permanent spot on M1, no more enemies, push debut a few years earlier…"

But there's no reason for this winter to be any different than the rest. "I'll get there on my own," Jongin says easily, crown of his head cushioned against Sehun's back.

Like this, Sehun can hear Jongin's harsh breaths and feel the warm beat of exertion, tired muscles, the goals Jongin wants to reach. He almost wants to be proud at Jongin's response but rolls his eyes instead. "I guess I'm not granting any of your wishes again this winter."

Jongin pats Sehun's back at that, chuckling, and Sehun turns around just in time for Jongin's palm to land at his shoulder, next to the heartbeats Sehun has to remind himself to have. In the mirror on the other side of the practice room, only Jongin is anywhere near the window, and Sehun is about as visible as the winds that comb through Jongin's hair.

"When will I ever get used to talking to invisible people," Jongin says in a low, content tone, half-smile on his face. He continues patting as if his hand isn't so close to Sehun's heart, careless and comforting in a familiar way.

It's moments like these, with offers of futures that make Sehun pause, where he's thankful Jongin can't see him at all. "Someday," he answers, soft.

He convinces himself that he's not lying, especially when Jongin straightens and makes to leave the practice room with a small wave. "Well, see you next winter."

"See you," Sehun replies, delayed like his held breaths.

The door shuts, and then he leans against the windowpane, tired as well. Spring is starting to begin in earnest. He can feel himself melting, a being of cold wind and snow, and Jongin is too warm for someone like him.

Practice begins again the next morning but Sehun's already gone.

True to form, Jongin's no longer a trainee when Sehun sees him next. Debut year December is busier and harder than Jongin's training could have prepared him for, but the will to dance makes up for it, and it's in the tiny gaps between their schedules where Jongin smiles the most. He's happier than Sehun's wishes have ever made him but Sehun is never jealous, because there is only Jongin's determination to admire.

Once their manager leaves Jongin in the dressing room to change, jackets and papers start to flutter in Sehun's arrival, and Jongin's already speaking. "You watched?"

"Yeah." Sehun seats himself in front of one of the vanities, toying with the cosmetic brushes on the table. He lifts a tube of cream up and sees it floating in the mirror. "Aren't you glad I just gave you money for ballet lessons when you wished that you could dance?"

"Wanted to curse at you the most when they were teaching trainees how to krump," Jongin answers, slipping out of his moon-print pants. Sehun barks a short laugh, but Jongin pulls on his jeans and quickly adds, "Still glad."

"You dance everything well." Jongin's halfway through putting on a shirt and Sehun pokes the exposed waist with a stick of kohl. "It just means you should choose your wording carefully. So, wish for the year is?"

Jongin shies away from the stick with an agile step and puts on his cap, checking himself in the same mirror Sehun's seated in front of. "None."

The wind whines through the curtains. "You haven't wished in ten years!"

"Then stick around a bit more. You have time, right?" Jongin slings on his backpack, putting on that smile between the one for cameras and the one he's had since fifteen years ago, unrepentant. From this Jongin, Sehun gets the sense that there are dreams worth all the struggle for, and can only look, as he always does from between the audience seats.

He follows Jongin out the door and Jongin grins up at the breeze. "Watch me live."

Their first meeting years ago involved small, quiet Jongin wishing for a friend. Sehun had first spoken in unsure brushes of air against Jongin's rosy cheeks and knuckles, but he eventually noticed Jongin smiling at the drawings on the snow, so next to Jongin's angels, Sehun drew dragons and cars. Children have no notions about disembodied voices and becoming friends wasn't hard at all.

The catch, though, is that when Jongin stops being small and quiet, he starts taking a maddeningly long amount of time between each of his wishes and seems to content himself with seeing Sehun sulk. He thrives in the Manila's sun-warmed temperatures, laughing when he feels traces of foreign cold pressed against the wall upstage. "How are you finding the climate?"

"What do you think," Sehun answers flatly, trying to consolidate himself in twenty-three degrees. The shimmer of snow that results fades faster than the vapors in Jongin's exhales back home, and immediately Sehun finds himself wondering why he's here.

Jongin hides a smile behind the lip of his water bottle. "Just a few more hours."

Sehun presses his mouth into a line. "Just wish for something so I can go back to estivating. Hibernating, whatever." He curls cold fingers around Jongin's wrist and tugs, insistent. "Louder cheers, decent performance clothes, even a cup of coffee. Anything."

Jongin's slight smile takes on a teasing edge, and when he stands at Yifan's call, Sehun lets his grip fall away. Of course Jongin wouldn't. Sehun shouldn't have expected any other reply. "Will you watch us later?" He's tired of this. "Prepared two special-"

Sehun bites his frown back and takes to the air, moving along the last winds of the monsoon.

But as always, Jongin manages to find him, in the slight, powdery breeze just outside the airplane window. Negative sixty degrees and up in the air is where Sehun thrives instead, but he's slightly disappointed by how Jongin doesn't even seem the slightest bit anxious by his absence.

"Sehun," Jongin calls, seated on the toilet seat cover. He has his hands tucked into his jacket's pockets and an earphone in his ear, the other one sending notes carelessly to the air. "Where were you?"

Sehun takes a moment, but Jongin never guesses. Each of the other man's steps and syllables are made for the stage and Sehun hates how he can never be as sure. "Seoul." He knows that Jongin can only hear him, but he can see Jongin pretty well, and he turns away from the gaze boring holes into his skin. Too warm. The room's too small. "You didn't need me around, so I left."

Jongin makes a face. "I wished for a friend and got you, you know."

"I grant wishes." Sehun breathes out a noisy sigh. "I'm not a permanent audience."

"Yeah, because you're a friend." Jongin punctuates each word with abrupt syllables, and Sehun's urge to escape rises with each one. "But what kind of friend just ups and disappears?"

The nearby mirror starts to frost over. "You can't even see me."

Jongin scowls back. "Then I wish I could!"

A burst of air, and in this tiny space, everything shakes; towels, cabinet doors, Jongin's earphones being blown right off him. He yelps out what sounds like Sehun's name and for a moment Sehun is satisfied, staggering against the bathroom's door-

Then it ends.

Sehun starts to feel dizzy and Jongin shakes his shoulder. "You have to breathe."

He inhales, struggling to look for Jongin's voice, but he finds a laugh and the world bursts with sensation.

"I should've done that sooner."

"Should've done it later." Sehun swoops down onto the windowsill and condenses into flesh and bone. The metal windowpane is bitingly cold beneath his palms, seven in the morning, and Jongin smells vaguely like fruit. "Airplane bathroom smelled like crap."

In the middle of setting up the stereo, Jongin pauses to look at him, then gets back to work. The mirror doesn't hide his slight smile. "I don't think I'm going to get used to this."

"Weren't you complaining about me being invisible?" Sehun hops onto the floor, quickly adjusting to his two feet, and he walks to the center of the room with steps that slowly grow more assured. The mirror doesn't hide his brown hair and pale skin either, and in the clothes Jongin let him use, Sehun still doesn't feel needed. Instead, he feels affirmation. He has a friend. "Still not used to my heartbeats, though."

"Let me see." Jongin stands and walks up to him, and before Sehun can get a word in, Jongin already has his palm flat against Sehun's breastbone. Orange juice, shampoo, the pink of Jongin's fingertips thrumming in time with Sehun's chest-"Oh. Cool."

Sehun suppresses a flinch and steps backward, hastily nodding.

Jongin tilts his head at him, but then Yixing arrives and Sehun quickly retreats, taking his usual seat at the windowsill. Jongin and Yixing immediately get to practicing, and eventually the two of them become four, then six, dancing for a comeback stage Sehun won't get to see. He plays with the limbs he suddenly has and occasionally waves them at the members who can't see him, curious.

Everything's still a bit odd; pull of tendon, stretch of muscle, heavy, heavy bone. Human movement is so limited but here is Jongin, who moves in currents, like wind, and Sehun still admires.

Then twelve noon comes quickly and Jongin stands in front of him, gaze as curious as Sehun's is. Sehun blinks back and Jongin only says, "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Wanna try dancing?"

Something about Jongin's outstretched hand makes Sehun think of self-destruction, but when Jongin pulls him back to his feet, the warm temperatures of their fingers mingle and Sehun almost forgets that he'll probably turn into steam. Very, very warm, like milk before bed and everything about Jongin.

Sehun knows that Jongin has an early appointment tomorrow, another solo interview before his everyday practice, but his hands are shaking and he rushes to Jongin's bedroom window, blowing noisy branches against the glass. His vision's starting to swim like he's underwater and Sehun blearily wonders if winter's already over.

It's Chanyeol who stirs first, but he stays in bed while Jongin practically leaps out of his blankets and makes sullen faces past the grills. Then he finds Sehun slumped against the window and starts rapping his fingers against the panes, eyes wide and slanted in worry.

Sehun's about to reply, arms tightening around his waist, but then Jongin's eyes start to crinkle in a laugh and he makes pointing gestures to the right, where their dorm's balcony is. Obediently, Sehun drops onto the balcony bench and curls up in wait. Everything hurts.

A few moments later, and Jongin quietly steps out into the balcony, parka above his shirt and something in his hand smelling like the sea. "When your stomach hurts, it's called being hungry." He then pushes the paper cup and chopsticks in Sehun's direction. "And this is called eating."

Drowsily, Sehun takes them, and a far-off part of him is surprised at how well and secure his fingers work to clasp around them. He holds the chopsticks and peels the lid open, appetizing scent mixing with the smell of dew. Jongin sits next to him and Sehun blinks. "So you… eat this?"

"No, you starve," Jongin says, exhaling and wresting the chopsticks from Sehun's fingers. He expertly catches a few noodles between the sticks then raises them to his mouth, where they get chewed and disappear. "Of course you eat." He gives the chopsticks back and leans back against the wall, rubbing his hands together. "Now you try."

"I know how to do that," Sehun says with a grumble, bringing a bite to his lips easily. He slurps it up, then chews on another one, then shoves the cup into Jongin's hands as he stands. "Just a minute. Can I go in?" Sehun points into the living room and immediately enters when Jongin blankly nods. "Stay there."

Then from the living room, Sehun enters the kitchen, where he stops to remember what he's seen Jongin do several times before. He opens a cup of noodles in the cabinet they have for snacks, fills it up with the hot water Jongin had already heated before him, then grabs another pair of chopsticks before making his way back to the balcony with accomplished steps.

Jongin makes a surprised, soft laugh when he sees him. "You should've told me if you wanted beef instead."

"No, I mean, this…" Sehun offers the noodles and gets the irrational urge to turn away, which he follows.

"Ah. Well." They exchange cups, and Jongin looks down at his noodles, bangs fanning over his eyes. "We're not supposed to eat after six."

Sehun can feel his heartbeat speeding up in embarrassment, but then Jongin shakes his head and slightly raises his cup with a smile. "Guess we should keep between us?"

He shakes his cup expectantly, and then when Sehun remembers to raise his own, they clink them together and struggle not to laugh as they sip at the broth. Sehun thinks to ask, don't they do this for wine? But somehow he gets the feeling that anything probably won't taste as good as this, now. This moment.

Sehun forgets to be nervous, and it's probably his first mistake.

February is about to end, and comeback is a month nearer.

Sehun doesn't need sleep when he's quiet for the other three seasons of the year, and when Jongin arrives in the practice room as usual, he's already at the open window, kicking his legs as he always does. He does it barefoot this time, though, and the cold tickles his soles.

Jongin starts practicing wordlessly, and Sehun turns around, watching.

But after a few moments, Jongin's eyebrows crease together and he makes missteps that pile and pile into a pause. "Sehun? Are you here?"

Sehun slightly raises a brow and condenses with a gust of chilly air, fingers tensing on the windowsill. "I've been here since earlier."

"Ah-" Jongin turns to him with a slight jolt that he somehow forgets to hide, and although Sehun likes the concern, something seems out of place. "You should've said something," he says, exhaling.

"But I never needed to, before?" Sehun swallows, trying to push his worry down. Maybe it's just the wind, starting to warm and ascending to ten degrees. "Oh, and I think spring's gonna start tomorrow." Their roundabout way of saying goodbye.

Jongin lowers his eyes at that, but then he looks up with his lips rounded in silent remembrance. "Why didn't you leave for the season when I made my wish?"

Sehun finds himself blinking at that. "Because I…" Maybe it's Sehun himself who's been different and out of place. "I… didn't leave?"

The face Jongin makes at the response makes Sehun weakly smile. "I noticed," Jongin answers, deadpan. He leans back against the windowpane, breaths still soft this early into practice, and something in Sehun tingles when Jongin's leg rests against Sehun's knee. The quiet is comfortable, like sleeping cities and frozen fountains, and Jongin lightly elbows Sehun's thigh.

Sehun turns to him and makes an inquisitive hum.

Then Jongin inhales, anticipatory, and Sehun narrowly notice himself mirroring the breath as well. "Do you," Jongin exhales, long and slow, "want to stay?"

Sehun's own exhale catches. "Ah." He bites the inside of his cheek. "It's okay," he answers, purposely.

Jongin nods, and doesn't say anything more. Joonmyun and Minseok arrive together a bit later, breakfast in tow, but when Sehun notices Jongin save an apple behind his back, Sehun decides to run a last breeze through Jongin's hair and takes his leave for the year. You don't have to. It's alright.

Jongin is almost twenty-one when Sehun sees him again, walking in a park, aimless. He has earphones on but there's no consistent beat to his steps, and Sehun feels like he's looking at something that looks too right-in the cold, transitional greys between fall and winter, Jongin looks like he fits in.

There's no one else around, so from between the empty branches and without any preamble, "You look old."

Jongin pauses, then pockets his earphones, deliberate and measured like his slight smile and all the rest of his movements. "I guess so."

Sehun gathers himself in a spiral of wind and settles on the bench just nearby. Jongin follows the gusts, scooting closer until their shoulders bump and their thighs are secure against each other, and Sehun likes the way his skin tingles with familiar, missed warmth. "How's idol life been?"

"Weird." Jongin tilts his head to the sky, just as he did out that open window years ago. "Got called out for not having enough facial expression today. Tiring."

"You should've expected the tiring part." Sehun curls a crisp breeze against Jongin's forehead, then makes a short laugh. "How do you not have enough facial expression, though?"

He gets his answer easily enough, when Jongin turns to him with his face in a blank that makes his heartbeats freeze. "I don't know."

Suddenly, Sehun's chest aches, and he wonders if this is how people know it's sadness.

"I actually feel like dancing today," Jongin says with a hollow laugh, alone in his bedroom. Chanyeol's been long gone for practice but Jongin's still halfway through changing, movements sluggish. "We've made some changes to the choreo since you last saw it. I'll teach you when the practice room's empty."

"No, no, I…" Sehun pauses, and when Jongin pulls off his shirt, he gives Sehun a glance before reaching for a new one. Sehun feels like his words are sinking. "What… Are you okay?" He thinks to reach out, but keeps his hands at his side instead. "What's that bruise on your shoulder?"

"Fans shoved me at the airport again," Jongin answers, finally done with his clothes. He slings a jacket over his arm then makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Guess I should tell you what happened."

"Not about the bruise," Sehun quickly adds, looking for confirmation.

"About this," Jongin answers, making a wide, sweeping gesture at himself. He makes a slight, sad smile, but then it's gone before Sehun can muster one of his own, and then they're out the door, Sehun following as usual. Jongin speaks in Sehun's stunned silence. "Lots of reasons why I dance, right? I knew my family would enjoy it. Had to learn how to pop or krump or tut, en pointe, arabesque, sobresaut." The hallways are empty, echoing, but Jongin doesn't seem to care. "Had to debut."

Sehun nods, and Jongin makes another vague, small gesture at everything, arms up for barely a second. He continues. "I've debuted now." He turns around, reaching for pirouettes that are now out of practice, and says, "And, well, steps lose their charm when they're only repetitive and painful."

"The fans…" Sehun tries to grasp for words, but they slip away like sand.

Jongin finishes the sentence for him. "They like me for my facial expressions." His gaze on Sehun is made of a bit of muted everything; relieved, unhappy, hopeful, waiting, disappointed. "The ones I have to remind myself to have."

It sounds familiar. Sehun briefly places a hand on his chest, then lets it hang limp at his side when he remembers how it used to be Jongin who always did that.

In a life as static as Jongin makes it out to be, December quickly turns into February, and Sehun wonders why things had to go wrong.

"I wish this'd last forever," Jongin says, quiet, carelessly, exhaling and leaning his tired weight against Sehun's arm. "Talking to you makes things feel better."

Here in the corner of the practice room, with Jongin poised like he's trying to sleep, Sehun wonders if Jongin talks to anyone else much at all. But then he realizes it's a wish and something stops, something shifts, accommodating. The temperature suddenly drops Sehun feels like he's taken a breath underwater.

It's wrong.

"Jongin," he begins, not daring to turn around. He keeps his gaze locked on Jongin's face and nibbles on his lip. "What did you do?"

The other members, busy with their own little food and conversations, all stop and stare out the windows.

Before Jongin replies, he stands from the wall, swallowing. Something in the gesture isn't like Jongin at all. "It's." He points out the window.

"This is why you should think of your wording," Sehun says, trying to joke, but then he looks above his shoulder and finds his words collapsing at the cityscape. Mist, white, winds in negative four.

It's snowing again.

"At least you get to stay," Jongin adds, looking up. The way his eyes crease and wobble at the ends makes him look unsure and hopeful, but still, maybe, perhaps it's all just Sehun's irrational worry. Nothing bad can possibly happen. "A bit more snow's not bad."

They end up dropping by a bubble tea place on one of Jongin's breaks, where Jongin explains the meaning of thirsty. Sehun demonstrates that he already knows when the cashier greets him as a regular, and he's given wintermelon milk tea with pearls without needing to order beyond ‘my usual' and a thank you.

"Yixing got sick," Jongin tells him when they find a seat next to a window. "March snow's giving him colds and he's been bruising even easier."

"Hope he gets better," Sehun answers after a pause, taking a sip. He frowns and wrings his fingers around his cup. "I think we have to change this back, Jongin."

Jongin smiles blearily and looks to the side, not answering. "I got his dance and rap parts." At this angle, the snow out on the sidewalk reflects on his face and makes his features look paler. "Comeback's tomorrow, so we forgot about meals for a while."

"What-they have snacks here, if you want." Sehun jerks his head to the direction of the menu above the cashier, then stands, rummaging for his wallet. "No wonder you look so horrible. What drink do you want?"

But Jongin catches his wrist before he can fully stretch to his feet, pulling Sehun back to a sit with a wince Jongin quickly wipes away. "It's fine." He tents his fingers above his stomach. "Not allowed to drink a lot of milk."

It takes a moment for Sehun to sit back properly on his chair, but he never quite settles, and the silence that lingers between their sentences gets longer and longer.

There are no offers for wishes, and instead there are offers to take things back, but Jongin always refuses. If Sehun tries, maybe he can fool himself into thinking that nothing's changed at all, but Jongin tries to keep Sehun close with trembling, overworked muscles and tendons, their hands in each other's, arms pressed against Sehun's like he's looking for warmth.

Sehun is a being of cold wind and snow.

Maybe that's why seasons go in cycles. Forever's something not meant to be because then they'd be permanently lost in wrong moves and directions.

In the three o'clock morning after their last schedule of the week, Jongin seeks out gentle winds, negative six degrees, warmth. He finds it on the balcony's bench, sitting next to him and looking up at the clouds.

Head lolled against Sehun's shoulder, Jongin wonders if Sehun can feel the tremors in him, growing like Seoul's white, five-inch thick blanket. He yawns, eyes slipping shut almost by accident, and then he starts sinking-bottomless sleep starts to rush over him like a tide, but Sehun's cold fingers are buoys.

Sehun asks in quiet gestures of worry, running a thumb over the dark, tender skin beneath Jongin's eyes. His touch is light and shaking, and Jongin likes the feeling; Sehun is concerned, and Jongin feels like his own presence counts.

"Just tired," Jongin answers, trying to memorize the feel of Sehun's fingertips. It takes a few, quiet moments for him to realize that his head is now a tired weight on Sehun's lap, but he decides to stay, too tired to move.

The voice he hears is pleading in a way that Jongin ignores. "I can still," Sehun pauses, nibbling on the corner of his lip, "turn this back."

"No way." There's a bit of snow on the tip of Sehun's nose that's chilling it red, and Jongin idly swipes away the snow with a fingertip. He lets his touch brush against Sehun's cheek and the color follows like paint. "Why do you want to leave so badly?"

And Sehun, face set in that lost, quietly struggling way, curls his fists. "I don't, but you…"

"Doesn't matter." Jongin turns onto his side and looks at the fog. "Wish you were happier, though."

"I'm not granting that."

"What?" Jongin places his arms against the bench and pushes himself to a sit. "Why?"

"I"ll be happy," and then Sehun exhales, breaths fogging up his face like a translucent wall, "when you don't want to wish anymore."

A moment. Jongin forgets to exhale and laughs instead, short and nearly hysterical. "Don't you get to be free and leave when I use up all five of my wishes?"

When Sehun looks down at his lap, the shadows make Jongin see the shine to his eyes even more clearly. "Who said I wanted to leave?" They both look away at the same time. "But there are just things we have to do, places we have to be-I'm not supposed to be here and you…" He breathes. The edges of his voice start to shake and fray. "Why don't you dance because people look up to you for it, or because you work hard to do well but enjoy anyway? How about the people who want to see you enjoy, like your bandmates?" Me?

Jongin keeps his eyes firmly open, and the cold bites into his tears before they fall, making them sting and stay. "Okay." But he doesn't need to see to know that the April air is coming back, and that Sehun's starting to fade away, flake by flake. More to himself, he repeats, soft and trying to reassure. "Okay."

The whistling and echoing to Sehun's voice grows with each second, but he's smiling, small, sad, fingers holding Jongin's sleeve. "You didn't need me in the beginning, right?" He forces his smile wider, and his eyes tighten into half-moons. "We'll do fine."

"Wait, at least," Jongin reaches out to Sehun's cheek and leans in, words spilling against Sehun's lips, "one last wish-"

Sehun disappears in a shimmer before Jongin's fingers can even find purchase, but a breeze of crisp air begins at Jongin's lips before leaving to follow the trade winds.

It's Yixing who finds him first, about to head for the practice room.

Jongin's on the balcony and staring up at the clouds, as if searching beyond them. Then he slowly stands, turning away. He's already changed into his usual practice clothes and they both swallow when they meet each other's gazes, but, "I… lost my copy of the practice room keys." Jongin offers a slight smile. "I feel like dancing today."

This time, Jongin listens. He thinks of his wording carefully, mapping possibilities in his downtime, and does the things he needs and wants to do. Get first place on a music show, have a world tour or two, try each flavour of bubble tea. Teach a few more others how to dance, be better at variety. Leave after eight years.

Jongin makes his wish in advance, when he chances upon a wind that whistles in a familiar, almost lisping way. It can only be someone he's been waiting for. "You didn't grant my last wish properly."

Sehun appears and seats himself on the balcony railings. "So I guess you called to get it back?"

"Yeah." Jongin inhales, and Sehun flickers out of vision. Then there's a chilly gust surrounding Jongin's shoulders, slightly pressing like a hug, and he hides a smile and a flush behind his scarf. "Be here, alright? Four years from now. I'll make my wish then."

Sehun hums, a still, waiting breeze. He reappears in Jongin's patient voice and arms.

"I want to go where you go."