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The next morning feels like the calm after the storm. Kyungsoo just laughs at Sehun's quick towel fix when they peel up the trashbags together, which Sehun scowls at. He runs back and forth willingly doing Kyungsoo's bidding, and then, after Kyungsoo leaves, focuses wholly on finishing the painting from last night. The paints on his palette are barely too gummy to use, Sehun having forgotten to put them back underwater, so he mixes just enough to finish defining the one bright line of lightning he had been working on. He lacks confidence in his ability to recreate all the colors he'd had last night, which conveniently keeps him from reworking more than the tiniest details. By the time he has to clean up in the evening to get ready for his restaurant shift, the painting is as close to finished as he can get it. He carefully puts everything away and even makes an effort to clean up the apartment before he leaves, clearing all his piled-up dishes into the sink and putting his laptop and books into one stack. Sehun has decided that last night's realization is a wake up call to get his act together. He's going to make decisions and be proactive and get things accomplished in his life. He squares his shoulders and his shirt collar, then steps out the door.
He brings back late-night bubble tea, which he and Kyungsoo drink lounging in bed while Kyungsoo laughs at Sehun's new life plan.
"You're already doing fine," he says. "You don't need to stress about things."
"You do," points out Sehun.
Kyungsoo steals one of his tapioca bubbles over his protests. "I stress so you don't have to."
"That doesn't seem fair," Sehun pouts.
"What, the bubble or the stress?"
"Both."
"Who said relationships have to be perfectly fair, though?" Kyungsoo drops two bubbles from his drink into Sehun's cup. "There's always going to be one person who works harder or does more. If the person who does more for the other doesn't mind, worrying about who owes whom is going to cause fighting, don't you think?"
"It still bothers me though," Sehun mumbles around his straw.
Kyungsoo doesn't quite slam his drink down onto the bedside table, and Sehun thinks he's angry until he rolls over to pin Sehun to the bed.
"Then you're just going to have to sell yourself into prostitution to me," Kyungsoo says. "To pay off your debt."
"Oh, darn," mourns Sehun, smiling enthusiastically. "Because I hate that."
"I thought you might. Put that damned drink down before you spill it."
Kyungsoo's hands at his waistband make this a more difficult task than it might otherwise be, but Sehun manages to land the plastic cup on a flat surface while his other hand comes up to rest on Kyungsoo's neck.
"I'm still going to do all of the planning shit tomorrow," he says.
"Okay," agrees Kyungsoo and then leans down to kiss him.
The next day is Saturday, so Sehun has Kyungsoo all to himself. Normally this would entail lots of lying around on various pieces of furniture while Sehun pulls out the XBox and Kyungsoo backseat games in between StumbleUpon tabs and idle building sketches, but today Sehun has A Plan. He gets up early, disentangling himself from the pile of limbs they'd eventually settled into the night before, and pulling on a pair of old sweatpants. He stands aimlessly in the kitchen for a moment, contemplating making breakfast before he realizes what a spectacularly bad idea this is. They'll go out and get breakfast, he decides. The weather is still cool enough from the rain that being outside is not unbearable, so Sehun plots a walking path for the day ahead. He finds Kyungsoo awake and propped up on one elbow to check the email on his phone, so Sehun collapses dramatically back down onto the mattress, making Kyungsoo squawk indignantly as the phone flies from his hand. Sehun hides his grin in Kyungsoo's thigh.
"Are you actually wearing more clothing than me?" Kyungsoo asks. "Is this what you feel like all the time, because I am so sorry."
"Now you know my frustration," Sehun nods. "It's awful."
Showering together turns out not to save as much time as Sehun tries to argue it does, but neither of them complain about leaving the house a half-hour later than Sehun had previously planned. Sehun does complain about how busy the coffee shop is, causing Kyungsoo to point out that most people do, in fact, consume their caffeine in the morning and no, one in the afternoon does not count as morning, even if that's when Sehun usually manages to drag himself out of bed. Sehun loudly objects to sitting inside where they're surrounded by tables full of people and the winding line leading up to the register, so they wander outside to perch on a nearby brick wall. No amount of prying or pleading on Kyungsoo's part will make Sehun divulge his plans for the day, so Sehun is forced to mollify him with a large bite of his cinnamon scone. They spend the time mocking each other's drink choices - "You drink your coffee black? I knew your taste buds were defective!" "Yeah, well, what kind of businessman drinks a... soy vanilla latte, anyway?" "One who is supposedly enjoying a relaxing weekend outing." - before Sehun takes Kyungsoo's hand and tugs him along the sidewalk to their next goal. Kyungsoo has given up asking where they're going in favor of trying to step on the backs of Sehun's shoes.
"Exactly which one of us is older, again?" Sehun asks when he has to stop to retie his sneakers for the third time.
"If you're allowed to be the responsible planner, I'm allowed to be the immature one for once," says Kyungsoo, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes.
When they finally stop in front of the building, Kyungsoo looks up at the sign disbelievingly.
"A hair salon?" he says. "You're getting your hair cut? I'm getting my hair cut?"
"Neither," says Sehun, tugging him by the wrist.
Kyungsoo watches with confusion morphing into amusement while Sehun sits in the salon chair with increasing levels of bleach applied to his hair. Sehun wrinkles his nose at the bleach, the sharp acidic smell burning his nostrils, glaring at Kyungsoo, who has perched a safe distance away to laugh at him.
"Stop snickering," Sehun demands. "Go look through all the hair dye colors over there."
"Why?" Kyungsoo wanders over to a shelf stacked full of small, plastic tubs.
"Because you're picking the color."
Kyungsoo turns to look sharply over his shoulder. "You're actually dying your hair?"
"Yes," Sehun takes a deep breath. "Whatever color you pick, I will put on my head."
"I'm flattered you think so highly of my color choices," Kyungsoo turns over something marked 'Blue Razzberry' and arches an eyebrow. "Aren't you the one with the expertise in that area? I mean, I could design a penthouse for your hair, but I think I'm a little lost now that we're getting into-" he pauses to squint at another label "-Electric Lizard territory."
"If I wanted to pick my own hair color, I would have just done it and waited for you to have a heart attack when I pulled off my beanie," Sehun tries to look crosseyed at his hair, but it's too far slicked back to get a glimpse of. "Just pick a color, okay? Whatever you pick is what I'll use."
"You're so trusting," Kyungsoo smirks. "What if I heinously abuse that trust? How do you feel about metallic orange? Or maybe something that glows under black light?"
"We don't have black lights," Sehun points out.
"I'd be willing to buy novelty light bulbs just for you," Kyungsoo bats his eyelashes. "Oh, here we go. Sehun, I think you're going to have bubblegum hair."
He holds up a pastel pink tub and grins at Sehun's dismayed expression.
"You can still back out," he says. "Are you sure you don't want to pick the dye?"
"I'm sure," Sehun says firmly. "I'll do pink."
The stylist, who has been watching the entire exchange, takes the tub from Kyungsoo's hand. When he rinses the bleach out, Kyungsoo lets out a low whistle.
"Wow, you're platinum."
Sehun runs his fingers through the strands, bringing them over into his periphereal vision.
"I kind of like it," he says.
"You could keep it like this," Kyungsoo suggests, but Sehun shakes his head.
"You picked pink," he says. "We're going pink."
Kyungsoo watches the dye go into his hair intently, his eyes following the stylist's hands as the container slowly empties onto Sehun's scalp. Sehun wants to wriggle uncomfortably, but the gloved hands running through his hair hold him still. When it's all lathered into his hair and tucked safely under a plastic cap, Sehun is finally able to crack his neck to work out the cricks in his shoulders.
"You're very tense for someone who, not fifteen minutes ago, was shouting 'yes pink lay it on me' and fistpumping," Kyungsoo points out.
"I was psyching myself up," Sehun explains. "You're putting princess pink all over my head, but by god, I'm going to be manly about it."
"You'll be the envy of seven year old girls everywhere," assures Kyungsoo, taking out his phone to snap a picture of Sehun swathed in plastic for posterity.
They spend the hour it takes for the dye to set drawing mustaches on all the pictures in the waiting area magazines and holding up display extensions to each other's head. It is the most immature day they've spent together in entire weeks, and Sehun finds himself feeling more relaxed than he's been since he first heard hints of Junmyeon's existence. It turns out to only take one dye job to color Sehuns hair, confirming all the online research Sehun had done that highly recommended this place above all the others in town. His wallet is about to take a huge hit, he knows, but the incredulous glee on Kyungsoo's face when he sees Sehun's hair dried and styled into upward curves is worth at least a week's paycheck. Kyungsoo refuses to let him cover the hair with a hat when they leave the salon, instead dragging Sehun to the fanciest restaurant in the area over all of his protests.
"I'm not dressed for this!" Sehun panics.
"Just look furtive and handsome and keep your sunglasses on," says Kyungsoo. "Maybe they'll think you're an idol and take pictures. Wouldn't it be hilarious if you showed up on gossip blogs later?"
Sehun hisses, but Kyungsoo's grip is iron. He kicks Kyungsoo under the table when the waitress won't stop staring, his face heating up when she brings them their check at the end of the meal along with an autograph request. If looks could kill, Kyungsoo would be a little pile of ash spilling off his chair now, but the woman is thrilled when Sehun takes the pen and scrawls his name in huge letters across the page. Sehun thinks she may wet herself when he asks her name to address it properly, at the same time delivering a sharp blow to Kyungsoo's shins in order to quell the choking laughs he's giving Sehun. Kyungsoo instantly turns them into a coughing fit and downs his entire glass of water.
Sehun refuses to leave the apartment again for the rest of the weekend, the two of them instead settling back into their usual rhythm of conversation and banter over individual screens. Everything goes back to the way it was, the way it should be, so familiar that Sehun forgets to worry about the impending work week until Kyungsoo gets a call Sunday evening. It's from Junmyeon. Kyungsoo gets up from his seat in the armchair to take the call, while Sehun shakes the unfamiliar pink out of his eyes and doesn't at all listen to Kyungsoo's hushed but animated tone with a sinking heart. When Kyungsoo comes back, he's almost shaking with excitement.
"I got the job!" he announces. He stands next to Sehun, looking down at him like he's not sure if he wants to jump up and down or hug Sehun or collapse into a boneless pile or maybe all three at once. "The meeting on Thursday, remember? He liked my presentation so much, he's hiring our firm for his next construction project, and I'm in charge of design!"
Sehun's brain seems to be warring between overwhelming pride and happiness for Kyungsoo and miserable frustration at Junmyeon's reintroduction into their lives. The happy pride wins out for the most part, prompting Sehun to stand and envelop Kyungsoo in a hug, nuzzling his nose into his hair and pressing kisses just below his ear because he doesn't trust himself enough to speak.
Monday morning dawns cloudy, the sky covered with one single unbroken sheet of cold gray. It reminds Sehun of stainless steel coating the heavens, preventing the sun from ever really reappearing to dry out the storm's aftermath. All week long it remains just on the verge of raining, never enough to bring down the temperatures that slowly begin to climb again, but just enough that Sehun never quite feels like he completely dries out. Within three days he thinks he might be about to grow mold, either from the constant muggy moisture level or from sheer mental stagnation. Contrary to what Sehun had expected and hoped for, now that Kyungsoo has a project he's spending even more time away from home. Apparently Junmyeon was involved in more than just client introduction. Whatever Kyungsoo is doing now involves hours and hours of work locked in the office going over decisions and plans, which Junmyeon improves or approves before passing on designs and reports to their employer. Sehun tries to argue that he doesn't see why Kyungsoo can't sketch and send designs from their living room, like he's always done in the past, but Kyungsoo's explanations go on longer than Sehun has patience to listen to. He's willing to believe that a salaried firm employee has different responsibilities and expectations to satisfy, and yet Sehun can't help but resent the days spent alone. Even the days of interminable client meetings had been better than this. Kyungsoo works later and later, with barely a moment spared to phone in a "hello how are you."
Sehun itches for his work throughout days spent staring at the four walls or the pages of his books. If only it would rain. He paints a grayscale street scene in one afternoon, the lines blurring and rippling with the wet heat, made all the easier since Sehun seems to go through every day now with a constant breathless dizziness. He sweats under the collar of his restaurant uniform every night, until he forgets what it's like to wear clothes that aren't sticky and clinging damply to his frame. It might be attributable to the addling heat that he sits panting in front of three fans one night, pleading over the phone to Kyungsoo that "no, really, they could come and work here, I wouldn't mind." He would almost welcome Junmyeon with open arms if it meant the opportunity to see Kyungsoo for more than a few drowsy moments late at night, long after Sehun has fallen asleep, exhausted from waiting. He mumbles an "I love you" into Kyungsoo's hair every night, listening every time for something more than an incoherent murmur, which is all he ever gets. Kyungsoo turns down his suggestion, voice coming through tired over the phone speakers.
"It wouldn't be a problem, hyung, really," Sehun persists. "You know this place is bigger than it looks. It'll work."
"We don't have the facilities there to do all the work we need to get done. I know you're trying to help, Sehun-ah... I really do appreciate it. We'd get in the way of your painting anyway. I'm sorry, I have to stay here."
Kyungsoo is tired, or he'd remember that Sehun has nothing to paint. He has nothing to do but wait and fill his days up with distractions from how much he misses Kyungsoo.
"Okay," says Sehun instead, and hangs up to lay his head against the edge of the table.
His apathy turns into angry resentment as days march by, the brief truce he'd made with Junmyeon in his mind dissolving away. Junmyeon is the one keeping Kyungsoo away, failing to see where he's not needed. Kyungsoo's never needed help to create his buildings in the past, but something about Junmyeon now has Kyungsoo hanging off his every word and asking his opinion on everything. They reach their first milestone, and the first Sehun hears about it is when he answers his phone eagerly to hear that Kyungsoo is going out that night. Junmyeon is treating their entire design team to dinner and drinks. Sehun turns his back to Kyungsoo when he finally crawls into bed.
As he moves into the second stage of his designing, Kyungsoo begins to make appearances around the apartment again, though this is almost worse now since whenever Sehun sees him, Kyungsoo has barely a word to speak to him in between calls and constant model-building. Sehun's jokes that doesn't he have interns to do that for him now fall flat, met with no more than a glance. The only things that get Kyungsoo's attention are the scathing comments Sehun levels at Junmyeon within Kyungsoo's hearing.
"Exactly whose project is this anyway?" Sehun snaps when he sees the phone held to Kyungsoo's ear again. "Yours or his?"
The frown he gets is added to the count of "Times Kyungsoo has Acknowledged My Existence Today," but it fails to make him feel any better.
The rumors of another incoming storm that reach Sehun's ears a few days later make him antsy, like he's about to crawl out of his skin. For lack of anything else to do, he starts to paint another scene of the gray, oppressive heat. It feels like it's been going on for forever, the promise of the storm nothing but a mirage for his parched brain.
The sky today is completely gray, but bright, like the clouds are a very thin veil between the sun and the earth, diffusing the light and softening it. It's misting instead of raining. Each hair on Sehun's arm has a tiny droplet clinging to it, which takes entire minutes to grow large enough to trickle down his arm one by one as he paints the varying textures of gray and the rainbowed halos of moisture around the tops of the buildings opposite. Even without direct rays, the mist lays over Sehun's face like a blanket, making it all but impossible to suck in a breath. Kyungsoo hasn't been out to see his progress yet, so Sehun works fast. It's petty and he knows it, but serves Kyungsoo right if he doesn't come out early enough to see the work before it's finished. The scattered colors off the roof of one building just aren't coming out right, which is frustrating him and slowing him down, but the colors are so very faint in the first place that Sehun can't tell if the problem is that he has too much green or not enough. He settles for more burnt umber and calls it good enough. Kyungsoo might know, but Kyungsoo hasn't been out there all day and Sehun isn't about to seek him out for help now. The illusion of self-sufficience extends that far, at least.
It's mostly by chance, and not at all because he was looking for him again, that Sehun comes in off the balcony just as Kyungsoo flops down onto the sofa. His phone is pressed to his ear, prompting Sehun to ask if he's had it surgically attached now. No response.
“Do you really think we should bring the ceiling down by a whole seven feet?" Kyungsoo asks, "I mean, we can do that, I just thought it would throw off the balance of the room. No, that's fine."
He's talking to Junmyeon again, of course. Sehun comes to stand on the carpet and Kyungsoo looks at his paint-caked hands pointedly, making gestures that mean something like "sink" and "wash" and "not on the furniture". Sehun chooses to ignore this in favor of leaning against the arm of the sofa, arms folded, and blatantly eavesdropping. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.
“No, of course I value your opinion," he says. "I can work up some new plans today and we can start work on another model. I'll make it work."
Sehun makes a decision in a split-second. He swings a leg over Kyungsoo’s thighs, settling down into his lap and ignoring the hands trying to shoo him away. He’s pleased to notice Kyungsoo’s breath hitching when he simply rests his lips on his neck, right under his ear and just on top of his pulse, not moving yet but just teasing.
"Get off," Kyungsoo hisses.
Sehun sticks out his tongue to lick his lips, catching the faintest bit of bared neck along with it, which pulls a delightful sound from Kyungsoo.
"No, not you, Junmyeon," Kyungsoo's voice is steady, Sehun can tell, because he is carefully willing it to be. "Can I call you back later?"
Sehun hears a muffled voice from the phone say something like, "Is everything okay?"
"It's nothing," Kyungsoo says, so Sehun bites him.
He hopes Junmyeon hears the suddenly stifled yelp, and he hopes Junmyeon knows that this is his cue to exit. Nothing, is it? Sehun brings his hands up to rest on Kyungsoo's shoulders. He resists the urge to card them through the soft brown hair since they're still coated in paint, though he thinks it would be nice to put bits of the sky in Kyungsoo's hair.
"Something's just come up," Kyungsoo says.
It sure has, Sehun thinks, smirking into the hollow of Kyungsoo's neck.
"How about tomorrow? I'll call you then."
There's paint smear on his collar that looks like a gray lipstick kiss. Sehun wants to leave one on each of Kyungsoo's shirts for everyone outside to see. He remembers that lipstick on a collar is the clichéd evidence of an illicit relationship, and wonders if it says something about him that he's so desperate to leave any mark, any sign of his presence, any physical hint of their relationship. Sehun drives his hips down, feeling Kyungsoo shudder and lift off the couch to meet him. He can feel the rub of denim through his sweatpants, and he craves the friction, but he holds back and circles his hips once, slowly enough that Kyungsoo curls a fist into the side of Sehun's loose wifebeater, trying to drag him down harder. Nice to know he's still wanted, at least.
Junmyeon's still on the line, asking, "Are you sure? You sound weird?"
Sehun is about two seconds away from snatching the phone and hanging up on Junmyeon himself, but some part of him wants to wait and see what Kyungsoo will say and how far he has to go to make him cut short the lingering pleasantries. He'd like to see Kyungsoo make Junmyeon be the one to wait for once. It's a kind of sick fascination that has him moving more insistantly, grinding against the man below him in an easy rhythm, letting his head fall back as he watches the phone in Kyungsoo's hand through lowered lashes. Kyungsoo gulps and he's breathing harshly now, but he makes no move to hang up until Sehun reaches out to grip the back of the sofa.
"Call you tomorrow."
His voice almost breaks on the last word, but the phone has barely left his hand, dropping to land somewhere in the cushions, before Kyungsoo grabs both of Sehun's wrists and wrenches them back to his sides.
"Not on the furniture," he says, his full attention finally, finally on Sehun.
Sehun whimpers at the command in his voice. This is what he wants, he realizes. More than any desire to demonstrate to Junmyeon how much more important he is to Kyungsoo, Sehun wants Kyungsoo to show him that he's important. He wants Kyungsoo to tell him that in words, but also with his eyes and his very presence. With his mouth, his fingers on Sehun's skin.
"I wanted you," Sehun gasps. "I wanted you to pay attention to me."
"I'm paying attention to you now," says Kyungsoo, and he spreads his legs a little wider, settling Sehun closer to him.
He pulls Sehun's hands behind his back. Kyungsoo sets his own rhythm with the pressure on the base of Sehun's spine, which Sehun moves to follow, grinding harder now, and feeling the rub of their clothed erections together.
"That was an important phonecall," Kyungsoo pants.
His fingernails dig into Sehun's wrists as he drags them together roughly. Sehun hears the wind rushing in his ears.
I'm important, he thinks. Tell me I'm important too.
He moans when Kyungsoo moves his hands from Sehun's wrists to slide down under the elastic at the back of Sehun's pants, cupping Sehun's ass as he leans forward to drag his open mouth along exposed collarbones.
"What do you want?" Kyungsoo murmurs.
To cut Junmyeon out of the picture. For you to be around when I want you to be. To have you tell me I matter.
"You," Sehun doesn't sob - he doesn't. "I want you, hyung."
He's rutting frantically now as the heat and pressure builds low in his stomach, and Sehun thinks the tight ache in his chest may be more insistent, but he rests his forehead down against Kyungsoo's, trying only to notice the warm breath on his face, the flush spreading across Kyungsoo's cheekbones, and the throbbing pleasure spiking between them.
"I'm here," says Kyungsoo, hips stuttering now, and he is but he's not here enough, not for Sehun.
He wonders if he ever will be.
"I'm sorry," Kyungsoo chokes when he comes.
Sehun's sorry too. He doesn't know why. He does sob then, once, and comes tumbling after, spilling into his sweatpants and feeling the wet warmth on his thighs.
He buries his face in Kyungsoo's neck. Breathing here is easier than it's been for days, something about that smell that's so intrinsically Kyungsoo that cuts through the thick block the air forms in Sehun's throat and lungs every time he inhales.
Kyungsoo tries to shoo him away to the shower, but the arms Sehun winds around his neck stay locked there until he maneuvers them both under the water. Now that Sehun has his attention, he's afraid to relinquish his hold in case Kyungsoo disappears again into his cocoon of work - a world which Sehun is not granted admission to, though Junmyeon is. If he can hold onto Kyungsoo for long enough now, maybe something of his presence will stay with him when he locks himself in the office, once more out of Sehun's reach.
He must not have held on long enough, because when he wakes up the next morning, Kyungsoo has already left.
When Sehun realizes that he's lying curled over the edge of the bed, with his legs on the mattress and his head on the floor, looking up at the slats, he decides that he's probably very bored. He's simultaneously miserable and restless and full of energy, all of which combined leave him in his current situation, which is him staring with worrying interest at the box springs, vibrating gently. He wants to run around and scream and flail madly to work off this unbearable energy thrumming through his limbs, but he's too miserable and lonely to get up. Hunger finally forces him upright and into the kitchen in search of sustenance. With one pop tart hanging out of his mouth, he stares at the half-finished painting from the day before, feeling absolutely no motivation to finish it. A thick coat of purple goes over the entire thing, Sehun having decided that there's no point in having two nearly identical paintings of gray haze, then a cartoonish doodle of Junmyeon's ingratiating smile goes over that. Sehun spends an almost happy half hour throwing darts at the caricature’s nose before collapsing back into electrified boredom. He thinks he can practically see the four walls of the room getting closer together, not unlike a scrap compactor threatening to crush him slowly into a little cube. Never in his life has he been so upset to have the day off. When he concludes that hurtling through the restaurant door and screaming for someone to hand him dishes to wash is probably not the safest plan for maintaining his reputation or his job, the only other option he comes up with is to go out somewhere. Another week is winding to a close, meaning that the streets and bars will be full of people just as bored and desperate for excitement as he is. Sehun wonders idly if he'll get to see a bar fight. Maybe he'll start one if none seem forthcoming.
No matter what a terrible plan that might be, by the time the sun goes down, Sehun is out on the street, following the sounds of voices wherever they sound most promising. Pounding music and rushes of movement lead him to a dark club entrance, and Sehun isn't wearing clothes particularly made for clubbing - doesn't even own any to begin with - but the almost threadbare white tank and slightly too small jeans seem to pass muster. There isn't a face around he recognizes, which would normally discomfit him, except the deafening music and whirl of bodies around him seems to suck out some of the overwhelming energy that's been aching in all of his joints. A third drink quickly follows the second and the first in rapid succession after Sehun takes a seat at the bar counter. Beams of light like searchlights dart around the room, showing in almost primary bright colors against the light fog pouring into the room, before crossing each other to meld and create deep varied hues of purple-scarlet and muted teal verging into aqua. The energy isn't nearly as unpleasant now that he can concentrate it into feeling the music beat against his eardrums in a steady rhythm, and he's almost too caught up in peacefully plotting the composition of dark figures against an amorphous background of colored light to notice someone claiming the seat next to him.
"You look like-"
Sehun blinks in surprise when a voice immediately to his left addresses him. He could say the same thing, because he knows this face, he knows he does, he just can't place it...
"Sehun?"
It takes him a full fifteen seconds before recognition finally dawns, which he attributes to the fact that Jongin looks so incredibly different here than he had when they'd met, and not at all to the drinks now tingling under his skin.
"I almost didn't recognize you," Jongin says incredulously. "You know you have cotton candy hair now?"
Sehun brings a hand up to grab at his fringe.
"What?" he says, in shrill mock-horror. "The man in the scary disappearing shop in the alley said it was normal shampoo!"
Jongin laughs, open and sincere. Sehun finds himself laughing too.
"One-time customers make me sad, you know," says Jongin, looking incredibly happy. "Was it the Superman bandaid? I know that was a little bit weird, but I hope I didn't scare you into never visiting the shop again."
"No," Sehun hastens to assure him. "I mean, I've just been really busy with painting and stuff."
"Ah, that's right. The famous painter, Sehun. I did say I wanted to know how that all turned out though. Did the books help any?"
"Yeah, a whole lot, actually." Sehun looks at the ceiling. "I figured a whole bunch of stuff out, like what I was doing wrong and all that. I guess I just have to wait for it to rain again so I can start the next one."
"I thought it was supposed to rain tomorrow or the day after or something."
"Yeah."
They lapse into silence.
"I didn't expect to see you here," Sehun says eventually.
"Is that bad, though?" asks Jongin.
"No, I mean. I guess my brain just wouldn't think to make the connection between a book store and a club."
"Everyone needs some way to pay the bills," Jongin shrugs. "And I like to dance."
He tilts his head, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He's wearing all black, the only color around him coming from the many multicolored lights overhead. They play over the curve of his arms like stained glass reflections, catching in the creases of his leather pants. Jongin's hair, which was light and curled slightly when they first met, is now slicked back away from his face, making everything about him seem older and more angular. The occasional brighter lights set his eyes flashing the same warm brown as his skin, and Sehun automatically begins mixing a color palette in his mind. Jongin doesn't seem to notice Sehun's scrutiny, or at least isn't fazed by it.
"Would you be less disconcerted if I said that I spend most of my time lying on the pillows in the children's section?" he asks.
"You have no idea what a load off my mind that is," Sehun heaves a sigh, making Jongin laugh again, his eyes crinkling as he leans sideways against the bar.
"You should dance," he tells Sehun, who shakes his head.
"Just watching is good enough," he says, but Jongin refuses to take that for an answer.
"Just watching is never good enough," Jongin insists. "If you're going to do something, then do it. If you're going to go to a club, get out there and dance." He stands up, holding out a hand for Sehun to take. "Consider it an apology for never coming back to tell me about the paintings."
Sehun shakes his head again, this time in resignation, before sliding his hand into Jongin's.
There are so many people moving around in such a tight space that Sehun is afraid to do more than bounce on the balls of his feet for a while, lest he accidentally elbow someone in the eye. Jongin is having no trouble whatsoever, his body swaying easily into empty pockets in the crowd that Sehun would not have seen himself. He swats at Sehun's hip.
"Loosen up," he insists, over the loud music. "It's painful just looking at you."
"It's never painful to look at me," Sehun huffs, turning up his nose, but he starts to move a little more.
"No delusions of grandeur here, I see," teases Jongin.
"I don't see you looking away."
Jongin colors, but still doesn't break eye contact. He moves closer instead, right up to Sehun, until he's near enough to put a hand on Sehun's shoulder and lean in to continue speaking comfortably over the beat.
"Your hair looks like fairy farts," he says. "It's hard not to stare at it."
He's still moving. Something prompts Sehun to bring his hands up to Jongin's hips, finding it easier to copy the motion himself with that guidance. Then Jongin is even closer, his mouth next to Sehun's ear like he's whispering secrets.
"I like it," he says.
Sehun feels fingers in the pink strands just moments before he feels a pair of lips pressed to his own. Jongin dedicates his entire attention to kissing, only swaying unconsciously now while he grips Sehun's shoulders, and the intensity of his focus makes Sehun gasp. His mouth instantly opens under Sehun's, waiting ready and responsive to anything Sehun wants to do, which at this moment is everything. Sehun wants to claim every inch of that mouth, which Jongin gladly accepts, sucking on Sehun's tongue when it slides into his mouth and moaning happily when Sehun pulls back and snags Jongin's lower lip between his teeth. Sehun brings a hand up from Jongin's hips to grab his jaw and turn it so that he can lick more easily deep along the inside of his cheeks behind his teeth, slow and dirty. He forgets what he's doing or where he is, lost in Jongin's mouth and drunk on the control Jongin surrenders completely to him - control that has always belonged to Kyungsoo in the past, and-
Kyungsoo.
Someone has sent cold electricity along every nerve and every inch of Sehun's skin, paralyzing him. Black spots start to cloud the edges of his vision and he must have pushed Jongin away, because Sehun catches sight of his shocked face for an instant before he stumbles and gropes blindly for a way out. There's a door to the outside, onto some sort of daytime eating area, which Sehun barely makes it out onto before his knees buckle. He hits his entire shoulder and side against a table, the only thing keeping him at all upright now.
"Sehun, what's wrong?"
Jongin's voice sounds worried, on the edge of panic. He's followed Sehun out here. Sehun's eyes are shut tight so that he can't see Jongin's face or the way the floor is blurring and refusing to stand still.
"Are you sick? How much did you have to drink?" Jongin has crouched down in front of him to brush his hair away from his face. Sehun flinches away like he's been hit.
"Too much," he chokes. "I can't-"
Jongin makes soothing noises and reaches out to comfort him, but that's wrong because he doesn't understand, doesn't know why Sehun's stomach is turning over in his gut.
"I have a boyfriend," Sehun says, and tries not to retch.
"What?"
Jongin sounds faint. When Sehun manages to open his eyes, he sees the blood completely drained from Jongin's face. His hand is frozen an inch from Sehun's hair, the expression on his face just as sick and horrified as Sehun himself feels.
"Why didn't you say something?" Jongin sits down heavily, and when he covers his eyes, his hands are visibly shaking.
"I don't know," Sehun whispers. Then: "I'm scared he doesn't want me anymore."
"Because of this?"
Sehun shakes his head. "There's someone else he knows. Someone at work. He's always gone now, and I never get to see him."
The attention Jongin had paid him was intoxicating, and Sehun is ashamed to admit how starved for affection he is. Jongin blows out a long breath.
"Have you told him that?" he asks, then laughs weakly. "I can't believe I'm trying to give relationship advice to the guy I was hoping to take home tonight."
Another stab of guilt, along with maybe a twinge of embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," Sehun says.
"No, I'm sorrier," Jongin waves his hand like he's about to lay it on Sehun's arm before he thinks better of it. "If I had known, I would have never- I mean- There are some things you just don't do and-"
He trails off helplessly. Neither of them look at each other.
"I guess I haven't," Sehun says. "Really told him that, I mean. There just... there hasn't been a good time."
"No time like the present." Sehun doesn't think his voice would be as steady as Jongin's is if he were the one in that position.
The phone in Sehun's hand rings and rings. There are a number of reasons Kyungsoo might not be answering, all of them perfectly valid, ranging from "he's back home and asleep" to "he's still buried in work at the office," and Sehun really shouldn't be edging closer to panic with each ring, but he is. Jongin moves away, mouthing that he's going in search of water. It's an understatement to say that having him here for this conversation would be mortifying, yet at the same time Sehun isn't entirely sure he can do this without moral support. He's about to call out to Jongin to wait a second, when he hears Kyungsoo answer.
"Hello?"
Sehun clutches the phone with both hands. He opens his mouth before realizing he has no idea what to say. He has to tell Kyungsoo what's happened, he knows, but how can he even begin to explain his actions and then go on to say he's worried that Kyungsoo likes Junmyeon better than him? He can hear how hypocritical that is before he even says it.
"Hello?"
"Kyungsoo?" Sehun manages, any further word dying in his throat when he hears another voice on the other end.
"Who is it?" The voice is close by, but indistinct.
"It's Sehun," Kyungsoo turns away from the phone for a moment. "Sehun? What's wrong?"
The other voice says something else, too muffled for Sehun to make out words, but clear enough that he can identify it. Which is fine. Kyungsoo's probably in a meeting to go over planning details. At... eleven thirty at night.
"Nothing's wrong," says Sehun.
He feels very stupid. There's a pause and a rustle of movement before Kyungsoo speaks again.
"Where are you?"
"Out," Sehun keeps his voice neutral. "Is that Junmyeon?"
"We're working," says Kyungsoo. Is he speaking more quickly than usual? Does he sound just a little out of breath, or is this all Sehun's fevered imagination? He can't make sense of anything. It was a mistake to call.
"Don't let me distract you," Sehun's finger hovers over the 'end call' button. "Not that you ever do."
He says the words without thinking. As soon as he shoves the phone into his pocket, Jongin is there to fill his empty hand with a glass of water, appearing at Sehun's elbow without a sound. Sehun stares into the glass.
"I think you're supposed to drink it," Jongin says eventually.
Jongin watches him until the water is gone, switching it out with another full cup before he clears his throat.
"So," he says. "He didn't take it well?"
"I didn't tell him," Sehun admits, which makes Jongin frown. "He was with Junmyeon."
"That's the other guy?" guesses Jongin, biting his lip when Sehun nods. "Okay, I know it sounds bad, but it might not be as bad as you think? I mean, they work together, right?"
"That's why I haven't said anything to begin with," Sehun's head just hurts now. "I mean, how do you say 'stop spending time with people you work with because I'm afraid you'll stop loving me' without sounding like a paranoid asshole?"
"Just like that?" Jongin suggests. "I don't know what else you could say."
Sehun shakes his head and the two of them stand looking out over the edge of the open patio. Sehun knows he should be thinking the best of the situation, should be giving both Kyungsoo and Junmyeon the benefit of the doubt, but far too much time spent alone with his thoughts has left him with scenarios and mental images that just won't get out of his head. He hates the way he can't think of anything else, and he hates how the way Kyungsoo's been acting won't let him think of anything else.
When he finally turns to leave, Jongin stops him by pressing a piece of paper on him which Sehun tries to turn down once he realizes it's Jongin's phone number.
"Just take it, okay?" Jongin insists. "In case you just want someone to talk to or rant at. You don't have to call to chat or anything. Just. I'll listen if you need it."
He looks away.
"And I promise I won't come on to you anymore or anything. I'm not that kind of guy."
Sehun's fingers slowly wrap around the paper. He slides it into his pocket with a mumbled "thanks," waving a quick goodbye before leaving without a glance back.
The heat weighs him down the entire way home, thunder beginning to rumble at the very edges of his hearing by the time he gets into the apartment complex. Sehun kicks off his shoes just inside the door. One of them hits the wall with a loud thump. The dark rubber leaves a mark that Kyungsoo will certainly complain about later and Sehun looks over his shoulder, half expecting to see Kyungsoo in the doorway with his arms crossed disapprovingly. The doorway is empty though. It's usually empty these days, Sehun thinks before he can stop himself. He wanders towards the living room to wait for Kyungsoo, even though he's not sure how he'll react when the time comes.
He's not given much time to decide either, since Kyungsoo is already home. He looks up from his phone as Sehun pauses in the doorway. It’s still not raining outside yet, but his hair is wet and sticking to his temples the same way it does when he steps out of the shower and forgets to completely towel dry.
"Where were you?" he asks.
"Not like you really have any right to ask that, do you?" Sehun leans against the frame and scowls.
Kyungsoo doesn't scowl but he doesn't meet Sehun's eyes either.
"I told you I was working," he says, turning his phone over and putting it in his pocket.
He still doesn't look when Sehun pushes off of the doorframe before sauntering across the living room floor, instead closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose like he has a headache. His eyes fly open, however, when Sehun drops into his lap and stares down at him, trying to find something concrete and reassuring in Kyungsoo's expression. The way Kyungsoo's eyes flicker back down to his lap, however, tells Sehun nothing. He looks for answers in the set of Kyungsoo's shoulders and in the hands he brings up to rest on his own hips. Sehun wraps his arms around Kyungsoo's neck and settles close against him, thinking that everything might just fix itself if only he could melt his way under Kyungsoo's skin and disappear. Then he remembers Jongin, the twisting guilt sitting in his mind like a dark blot. Even if Sehun were to melt and disappear, that stain would still be there under Sehun and Kyungsoo's shared skin.
There's a smudged bruise in the hollow of Kyungsoo's neck and Sehun rubs a thumb over it, pressing down sharply and hearing the sharp intake of breath. Kyungsoo's fingers twitch on his hips as Sehun leans down to run his lips over it. Neither of them say anything when Sehun stamps his own mark over the bruise, feeling something hot and uncomfortable and possessive churn in his stomach. Kyungsoo sighs almost inaudibly and hooks his fingers into Sehun's belt loops to pull him closer.
They don't speak about any of it the next day or any of the days after.
The storm the next morning is the first of several in quick succession that keep Sehun occupied for several days. If Kyungsoo doesn't feel like he has anything to explain, Sehun is unwilling to press him on the topic. "An eye for an eye" is an unhealthy way of looking at it, he supposes. The longer he puts off bringing up his own indiscretion, the harder it will be in the end, but Sehun can't even think about it without accusing Kyungsoo at the same time, something he just can't bring himself to do out loud. Kyungsoo spends several days in a row working from the living room. Sehun spends hours painting on the balcony with the door shut, barely able to look Kyungsoo in the eye over the table at dinner while they eat. The way Kyungsoo easily curls into his arms at night makes Sehun feel like more of a traitor than ever.
When the rain dries up for a few days, leaving behind pleasantly cool weather and the palest of blue skies, Sehun has no excuse to avoid Kyungsoo any longer. Kyungsoo, for his part, seems to be making a point of spending more time at home now. All the attention that Sehun would have cut off his own right arm for a few days ago he now has in abundance, but it only makes him more uncomfortable.
Stupid Junmyeon, Sehun thinks grouchily when Kyungsoo brings him a cup of tea, settling into his side while he reads his Turner biography for the third time. This would be perfect if he didn't exist.
Still, the awkward tension slowly fades to the back of Sehun's mind the more time Kyungsoo spends working at home. Even if they don't say anything directly, it feels to Sehun like they're each trying with their own small gestures to make it up to the other. Apology comes in the way Sehun rubs Kyungsoo's shoulders when he finds him hunched over his desk in the corner, and steeped in the coffee Kyungsoo leaves on the counter each morning. Things are better, but they're still not the same. A word carelessly spoken will ruffle Kyungsoo's composure in a way it's never done before, and a reference to Junmyeon made in tones just a little too warm sets Sehun's teeth grinding.
Now that the building project is nearing the end of the planning stages, Kyungsoo is engrossed in building model after model of not only the structure itself, but individual rooms that happen to require special attention. More often than not, Sehun sees him with paper and plaster sticking to his fingers and an anxious slant to his eyebrows. He knows from past experience that trying to be too helpful will only make Kyungsoo more frustrated, so he keeps his distance. The weather has stayed cool since the last rush of storms, so Sehun can spend hours sitting outside and sketching tiny drawings and speedpainting scenes he sees in the street below. He has almost all the cloud paintings he needs, but he still wants to keep a tight hold of his color-mixing instinct while he waits for one last storm.
Each successive model Kyungsoo makes is accompanied by a phone call to the office, where Junmyeon is sitting and the two of them hash out what details and updates to send to their client. He has a meeting every night to cover everything that can't be dealt with over the phone, but slowly these meetings start taking longer and longer and starting earlier and earlier, until he might as well just be working at the office all day. Kyungsoo's free time and attention is ebbing away again, something that Sehun is not happy to notice. Every single time things start to go right again and Sehun feels like he has a real place in Kyungsoo's heart, something snatches Kyungsoo away out of his reach again. Absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder. Is that still true when it feels like the one you love barely has time to remember your existence?
Kyungsoo has a planner - a bound schedule book made haphazard with all the countless pieces of paper Kyungsoo keeps shoved and stored between the pages. Receipts, notes scribbled on napkins, and bits of phone messages are held in with an elastic band around the gently curved cover. Sehun finds Kyungsoo sleeping facedown on this planner one day, slumped over his desk with his cheek pressed to the open pages. He's barely been home the last couple of days, and now Sehun feels bad for resenting the amount of time Kyungsoo's spent away. He shakes Kyungsoo's shoulder gently.
"Hey," he says, "You can't sleep on your desk. You'll do weird things to your back."
"My back is fine," Kyungsoo mumbles into the book.
"Yeah, but it won't be if you sleep in weird places. Go to bed."
When he half-hoists Kyungsoo out of his chair, despite sleepy protests, Sehun finds himself frowning at the page previously hidden by Kyungsoo's head. A three-day trip, the days blocked out with a pen line and the words "final presentation to investors." The trip is in four days. That explains a lot about Kyungsoo's recent coffee-fueled intensity, Sehun supposes, but this is still the first he's heard of any trip. He would have thought Kyungsoo would at least have mentioned it in passing. He looks down at the top of Kyungsoo's head, now resting against his shoulder.
"You're going away?"
"Don't be stupid." Kyungsoo's answer is muffled by Sehun's shirt. Sehun rolls his eyes.
"I mean, you're going on a trip?" he asks.
Kyungsoo groans, immediately going rigid with tension.
"Don't talk to me about the trip," he begs. "I can't think about that."
Sehun bites his tongue before he can ask if Junmyeon's going on this trip too.
"Come on," he says instead. "Go take a nap."
"Can't nap," Kyungsoo says, trying to make for his desk chair again. "Gotta work."
"No. You fell asleep on your papers," Sehun pins his arms to his sides and duckwalks him into the bedroom.
Kyungsoo sinks into the blankets and back into unconsciousness without any further dissent. Sehun stands beside the bed, wondering why thinking about this trip is filling his stomach with lead. He determines to ask further about the trip later, but when Kyungsoo wakes up again, he seems to feel obliged to make up for lost time. The entire rest of the day passes without Sehun managing to bring up the topic again.
Sehun is out on the balcony the next day, trying and failing to paint a sky on the brink of storm completely from memory, when he sees Kyungsoo coming in from the front door with a massive box in his hands. He had been gone by the time Sehun had managed to peel himself out of bed that morning, so Sehun is surprised to see him back already. He wipes his hands hastily on a rag. If he can intercept Kyungsoo before he disappears again, maybe Sehun can actually get some answers about this trip. Sehun is in luck; Kyungsoo seems to have settled down to work here for a while, judging from the way he sets the box down on the table and spreads out his papers all around it until the glass tabletop is completely hidden.
Sehun moves to stand next to the table. He's not sure how to tactfully bring up the topic of "hey are you going on a not-really-vacation-but-long-trip-away-at-maybe-hotels with the guy I'm scared you're going to leave me for someday soon?" so he runs his clammy palms down the sides of his paint-stained shirt and purses his lips while he thinks. Kyungsoo just sits there until Sehun notices him looking, at which point he smiles warmly at Sehun.
"What's up?" he asks.
"You're working here today?" Dumb question, Sehun. Of course he is.
"Mmhm, we're getting close to a final design now, and Junmyeon's trying to pull together all the numbers for the presentation, so I thought I'd stay out of everyone's way."
Here's your chance, Sehun, go!
"You're going away in a couple days, right?" Sehun asks.
"Yeah, just for a little while, though," Kyungsoo says. There's no reason for Sehun's mouth to be this dry.
"Is Junmyeon going?" There. He's said it.
Kyungsoo frowns, like he knows why Sehun's asking.
"Yes," he says. "Junmyeon is going."
"Does he have to go?"
"He's running the entire budget," says Kyungsoo, "So yes, he absolutely has to go. The presentation is mostly his, since he has to convince everyone that they should give us all the money we need to build this."
"Do you have to go?" Sehun blurts. If it's Junmyeon's presentation, maybe he can convince Kyungsoo to stay here with him instead.
"I'm the architect," Kyungsoo explains. "They're definitely expecting me to go."
"Yeah, but..." Sehun scratches at his hair, probably leaving huge gray blotches in the pink. "If you're not the one who has to convince them, can't you stay here instead? I just. You know, I never get to be with you anymore."
He blinks down at the carpet when he finishes. Kyungsoo sighs.
"It would look bad if I didn't at least make an appearance," he says. "They want to see who's behind it all."
Sehun wants to protest further that he doesn't care what a bunch of fat men in suits want, but there's no way to come off sounding anything other than petulant. Kyungsoo waits for a moment, then lifts the top of the box off to show a nearly completed model of the building before he picks up a sketchpad and makes a few more notes.
"I'm sorry, Sehun," he says, "I just have to go on this trip, okay?"
It's not really okay at all, but there doesn't seem to be any way to reply to that. Sehun looks at the model. It's a squat, dull box of a building, utterly generic, and with none of the beautiful idiosyncrasies Kyungsoo usually puts in his works. Sehun's not a musician by any stretch of the imagination, but if architecture is frozen music, then this building right here is an off-key kazoo.
"Where's it supposed to go?" Sehun asks, tilting his head as he tries to find any redeeming feature whatsoever.
Kyungsoo looks up from his notebook, eyes wide with confusion for a second.
"I'm not sure, really," he says finally, before going back to his plans. "The owner gave me dimensions, but he didn't say where the plot was exactly."
Another thing wrong. For all his past buildings, Kyungsoo has tailored each design according to its location and surroundings. "The light's different in each place," he always says, and each building, each structure is carefully customized to capture and use the natural light around it. This brick is made to sit anywhere. It could just as easily have been made by a first year student. Sehun frowns.
"It's ugly," he crosses his arms.
"Huh?"
"I wouldn't paint it if you paid me," Sehun wrinkles his nose.
Kyungsoo shrugs.
"I'm not really asking you to," he says, sounding amused as he crosses out one line and adds another.
Sehun stiffens, arms dropping to his sides as he stares at the top of Kyungsoo's head. He's always painted each of Kyungsoo's new buildings. It was how he'd begun painting buildings to begin with, their living room now dotted all over with the scattered timeline of his improvement. Kyungsoo seems to notice he's said something wrong, because he looks up suddenly.
"I didn't mean it like that," he says sharply. "I just mean-"
"No, it's okay, hyung," Sehun says, grabbing his hoodie and heading for the balcony. "I know what you meant. I'm busy anyway... with the clouds and stuff."
It's childish, he knows, to shut the balcony door a little harder than usual. He does it anyway.
part 3