1. dildo affairs - sehun/baekhyun; nc-17 (originally posted here)
2011 leaves Baekhyun with a laughable number of non-relationships turned ugly and dates that run the gamut from awkward to bad. Because he's usually left hanging without any concrete answers from the people who matter in those equations, he needs to look elsewhere for comfort. He thinks, "Why didn't that last one work out?" or "Why didn't life just let me win?" and rather than come up with a rational justification based on past experience and actual conversations, he just drags himself over to his laptop and with a few clicks, his stomach grows warm with excitement.
"He's just tall. Not even that cute," Lu Han scoffs one time from his comfortable position on Baekhyun's couch, eating through Baekhyun's gallon of Cookie Dough Haagen Dazs like a hurricane sweeping through a defenseless rural town. "His face looks like the stone hedges. Besides, you know those fashion blogs are replete with bored trust fund babies and DIY fanatics. He's probably some whiny little hipster baby."
"Your arguments just degenerate the more sugar you ingest." Baekhyun mentally choke-slams Lu Han as he scrolls down Oh Sehun's new photos. The newest one has him in ratty jeans ("Obviously sevens that met the grim fate of pre-school style cutting," says totally unhelpful Lu Han), Raybans and a bright red Hermes Birkin to contrast with this aura of nonchalance. "Do you think I should send him a picture? He always takes time to reply to my comments... it would only be polite."
"Go ahead. God knows that kid needs more paranoia in his life putting an actual face to his online stalker."
Baekhyun sniffs. "I'm probably the cutest follower he has."
"So? Jeffrey Dahmer was reasonably attractive. Ted Bundy was handsome. Cuteness does not necessarily equate to sanity."
Yeah, just look at you, Baekhyun wants to say. Instead, what comes is, "Lu Han, I think you're breathtakingly gorgeous and an amazing friend who I would probably have sex with after ten bottles of beer and five shots of tequila, but please. Stop trying to ruin my life. It's unbecoming."
--
"I can't believe I'm going on a date with Sehun. A date! This is not the real life," Baekhyun murmurs, smoothing wax over wet strands of hair. He takes one last look in the mirror to ensure that it doesn't seem as if he's made any kind of effort. The mirror leans precariously against the wall and he knows that it has a foreshortening, hall-of-mirrors effect, but even so he clicks his tongue at the fall of denim on his short legs. "And I don't have to wear dri-fit cycling shorts!"
"I can't believe it took you three months to dump Zitao's admittedly toned ass." Lu Han rolls his eyes and hands him his choice of button-shirt. Not too fruity and not too serious, just the way Baekhyun likes. Sometimes Lu Han is useful. "Fit outdoorsgays like him are never to be taken seriously."
"He wasn't all that bad." They had great sex, Baekhyun recalls. Zitao's insanely cut body did amazing things to Baekhyun's during the months they were together. However, Zitao's immaturity and abhorence for red meat eventually took a toll on Baekhyun. "He was... proficient in local geography?"
"Specializing in mountain trails and obscure surfing spots. He made you run a charity marathon four hours after fucking you in the ass three times!"
When he buries Lu Han's head in a mountain of pillows after a particularly hard noogie, he decides Lu Han isn't really that useful after all.
--
Sehun's hair falls into what is clearly meant to be a 'do', flicked and fragrant as if he's scrubbed at it with his fingertips to mess it up. His small lips are a pale bitten pink. His face is a little flat from the side, but what he lacks in definition of jawline he makes up for in the intensity of his facial features taken altogether, up close.
Baekhyun is lying if he says that he isn't afraid of Sehun turning out to be a total bore. After all, he never posts captions on his photos or his opinions on pressing issues. People go to his blog to see his face and his body and his latest manbag. But after the appetizers, he and Sehun are currently engaged in a spirited round of what Baekhyun calls 'raging against the tumblr machine currently run by thirteen-year-olds'.
"The platform is totally wasted. Most of the stuff there is taken out of context, doled out in manageable bite-sized portions, and forced to make sense with essays randomly yanked out of their prepubescent asses," Sehun says, before casually taking a sip of iced tea.
"I know! I mean, how many tumblrs are tagged with 'random'? It's such a cop-out description."
"Go-to word for people too lazy to commit their opinions to print."
"God, you're so hot."
Sehun smiles. "I'll get the bill. I think I'd rather have something else for dinner tonight."
An obvious invitation, the kind Lu Han periodically warns will get him into some 'Fifty Shades-esque arrangement', whatever the hell that means, but Baekhyun being decidedly deprived of the other variety of red meat, says 'okay' without a second thought.
--
Baekhyun decides that if he didn't ever get rimmed, his sex life would be kind of pointless.
"Once you hand over that pink flower, there's no going back," Sehun says, laughably serious that Baekhyun thinks for a moment that his hand down Baekhyun's jeans is just a horrible fluke.
"I thought licking butts was just some kind of kinky thing European guys did," Baekhyun protests weakly, half-moaning as Sehun's lips wrap around his cock, humming 'mmm delicious' and 'now this is my kind of dinner' and other phrases decidedly reminiscent of 70's vintage porn. It's not really the technique but the oddly high-pitched sounds coming out of Sehun's lips that remind Baekhyun that, yes, this really hot guy is still two years younger than him despite looking like a 25 year-old half-man, half-GQ model.
Sehun chuckles and flips him over in one smooth motion. Baekhyun's stomach clenches tight as he buries his face deep in the pillow, praying to all the deities that his ass tastes like cherries and jojoba oil. Sehun is either having the time of his life or a really sadistic bastard, because he slides hands down Baekyun's naked back and smacks his ass, twice in quick succession.
"Wha-uff," Baekhyun groans. "You're - really - not what I expected." Sehun's stoic, unemotional face is not something he'd depict in his imaginorgy of BDSM fantasies. If he's ever had BDSM fantasies.
Sehun doesn't answer, just palms Baekhyun's asscheeks, pushes them apart, nudges in close and licks.
Baekhyun makes a strangled sound that sounds like a cross between dying in ecstasy and wailing in embarrassment.
Sehun licks again, pushing his face in closer, flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth over Baekhyun's asshole, eliciting groans. He flattens his tongue, taking long licks from Baekhyun's balls up to his asshole, again, again, again. He noses against Baekhyun's balls, pushing his tongue between them, sucking one, then the other into his mouth. Baekhyun's trying to tip his ass up, minute shifts against Sehun's cheek.
"Fuck, I never even knew - ah!" Baekhyun moans, his entire body rushing with color as Sehun leaves toothmarks on his asscheeks. Sehun licks his way inside, and Baekhyun swears the whole world fucking stopped as Sehun pushes him forward. His ass sliding onto Sehun's tongue, against Sehun's tongue, and it's good, it's so fucking good.
Baekhyun's breathing hitches and stutters with every pull, and he's listening to Sehun talking, making filthy promises, how he'll slide that huge pink cock into his sweet, tight ass, how he'll make Baekhyun feel good--
Wait - what the fuck?
"You... you have a pink cock?" Sehun's skin, unless he's developing bizarre dog vision, is still pale the last time he checked.
Sehun laughs, pinning Baekhyun to the bed. Baekhyun can't help but stare at the swell of his red lips, obscenely wet and glistening in the light. "Stay," Sehun instructs, and Baekhyun's cock twitches in anticipation. Sehun reaches under an inconspicuous-looking wooden drawer beside his bed, and pulls out two small bottles and two dildos - fat, veiny and blessed with the fruitiest colors known to mankind i.e. pink and purple.
Sehun wordlessly hands him the purple dildo, plus a travel-sized bottle of KY Jelly.
Baekhyun's brain, which usually fires somewhere around the speed of light on any given day, finally catches up to what Sehun wants. "Oh," Baekhyun exclaims softly, shortly followed a more desperate, "Hurry."
Sehun positions himself so that his knees are on either side of Baekhyun's head and his elbows are bracketing those lean hips. "Do I need to explain how this works?" Sehun says, lowering his head to nuzzle in the crease between thigh and groin and enjoying the way Baekhyun's legs tremble. He laughs again, and Baekhyun realizes how he loves how he can break Baekhyun down into sweaty, needy, gasping pieces only capable of grunts and moans.
He wonders if Sehun is like this to everyone he sleeps with, if he even sleeps with every guy he dates off the internet after the first date.
"Do I?"
"I get the mechanics," Baekhyun says, hands sliding up Sehun's thighs to hips, curling around them to pull him down. "And it's not as new as, say, licking up my asshole."
"Oh, really." The smirk is palpable in Sehun's voice. Baekhyun hmph's and gives Sehun a moment to gloat before he heaves a deep breath through his nose, moves to a better angle and swallows Sehun's length down. It's a trick he hasn't tried in months, but it's worth the effort for the incoherent gurgling sound that Sehun makes in response. He works Sehun's dick with all his skill and he needs to feel the desperate need to come building in the base of his spine, in the tremor of his knees - but not yet.
Sehun's fingers are already slick with lube as he prepares Baekhyun's already sensitive entrance, and Baekhyun barely has time to catch up as he pours lube over his own shaking fingers. He stretches Sehun quickly, because he's more than a little late already - Sehun's already thrust four to inside to the hilt.
Baekhyun can't stop himself from crying out and pushing back against Sehun, eager for more, losing be damned. His fingers tremble, out of control as he lifts the dildo in his own hand and positions it against Sehun's entrance.
"Ready?" Sehun asks, swirling the warm head of the dildo's shaft around his hole.
"I--" Sehun didn't even wait for him to finish, sliding the cock inside Baekhyun in one smooth thrust.
"I-it's so warm, Sehun. So fucking... huge," Baekhyun whines, his body jerking slowly as Sehun's pink dildo pounds into him, sliding in and out, filling him up more than any guy's dick he's ever been with in the past. "S-stop, I haven't... put it in you yet--"
"So go and do it." Sehun mercifully pauses. "I'm giving you five seconds."
"Fuck, you're one demanding kid," Baekhyun pants, and slides the purple dildo into Sehun's own hole, relishing the way Sehun gasps and groans like a frenzied whore.
They start picking up a rhythm, pushing and pulling in turn, and at one point Sehun demonstrates his stellar self-control as he simultaneously thrusts the dildo inside Baekhyun and sucks the head of Baekhyun's cock into his mouth, moaning as the pre-come leaks down his throat. Baekhyun's going delirious with pleasure, slowing his own thrusting down as he shifts his body up, pushing his entire length down Sehun's throat. Tears of unbearable pleasure fall from his eyes, watching Sehun do both at the same time, watching his head bob each time the tip of his mouth and his dildo reached impossible depths, his orgasm coming closer and closer.
He comes all over the dildo, huge drops splattering onto pink veins, not to mention the comforter below.
"I'm sorry, oh god, I'll pay for those, I swear," Baekhyun says quickly, breathlessly, feeling like he's about to pass out.
"Don't worry about it," Sehun turns his head and smiles. "Just finish what you started."
And so, in retaliation for almost inducing a sexual blackout, he pushes the dildo inside Sehun a little harder and faster after Sehun's mouth slows, so deep that it's Sehun's turn now to arch his back; his elbows trembling with the effort it takes to keep himself up and over Baekhyun.
--
"We should go on a second date. Just, you know, in case you have some other tricks up your sleeve. Other stuff I thought I could only get on some student cultural exchange to Amsterdam--"
Sehun leans in and kisses him. "We totally should," he says, with a surprisingly cheerful smile on his face.
It's not a bad look at all.
2. mutual degrees of fascination - suho/chen; pg-13 (originally posted here)
Joonmyeon has too many med student problems, as sad as that sounds. He's grateful, sure - he has the unique privilege of working with patients from all walks of life, the colossal responsibility of learning the ropes of being a doctor, and the untethered freedom of not yet being one. He also has encyclopedic volumes of material to digest and is in a constant delirium of sleep deprivation. Not to mention medical school in itself is the pit where social life and dating go to die. He's the only med student loser in his group of twenty-something friends, all employed in the coolest jobs that afford them the luxury of partying on weekdays, friends for whom resulting morning hangovers have no dire consequences.
Fortunately, he's on a one-week break from school and finally gets to hang with his friends in one of the newer coffee houses in the city. Jongin's mouth drops open when he walks through the door, and he's pretty sure it's half-mocking.
"Rare pokemon spotted," Jongin says with a smirk, standing up to envelop him in a one-arm hug. "Good to see you finally coming out of that bottomless black hole you buried yourself under."
"That hole happens to save many a good man's life." Joonmyeon rolls his eyes and smiles at Kyungsoo across him, who waves. "So what kind of place is this, anyway?"
The whole space is dimly lit with little strategically placed yellow bulbs. Hazy, sepia-toned polaroid pictures of waify, distressed-looking boys and girls adorn the walls, wearing outfits that Joonmyeon imagines a heroin addict would wear if told to go to a fancy party and pretend to be happy. The music is the auditory equivalent of an empty canvas totebag, a strange mix of crooning ballad and riotous drug-fueled drums. People around them sport weird patchwork, sun bonnets, potato sack dresses.
"Is that why you're wearing flannel?" Joonmyeon says, eyeing Jongin's shirt like it would jump off Jongin's chest any minute, which, knowing Jongin, is actually more likely than anyone thinks. "Well. Now I feel stupid for wearing something decent."
"You really do stand out in those Fred Perrys," Kyungsoo points out, and Joonmyeon can say the same for Kyungsoo's classic D&G ensemble. "What do you want, hyung? The cappucinos here are absolutely divine."
Jongin stifles a laugh and ducks to avoid Kyungsoo's oncoming smack. Joonmyeon shakes his head, taking his wallet out. "I'll order for all of us. Same drinks for all?"
"Latte for me, please. And tell Lu Han and Yixing I said 'hi'."
Joonmyeon's brow furrows. "Who?"
"The two really hot baristas standing by the pastries. Just look at the nametags."
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "Lu Han is definitely taken. He always has that 'glowing' look about him. You should give up on him."
Joonmyeon moves away from Jongin's protest of "But he always looks like that!" and lines up. The line isn't too long, and even though the guy in front of him smells like potpourri, it isn't too bad. Only three people stand between him and the barista-cashier, who - is actually a total dreamboat babe. Joonmyeon stares at cheekbones that can cut glass, perfectly trimmed hair, bright eyes and a smile that vaguely reminds him of a cat about to get some cream.
Before he knows it, he's already at the front and kind of tongue-tied.
"Hi, what can I get you?" Sweet Jesus. The guy sounds like an Adonis. He's pretty sure Adonis sounds gravelly and rough - okay, scratch that - the guy sounds like a throngs of angels in heaven-- "Uh. Hello? Are you okay?"
Joonmyeon is pretty smart. But most people tend to overestimate his intelligence when in reality, he thinks of trivial things and has trivial inner monologues to match. Truthfully, the dynamics of dating has been largely affected by the jealous mistress that is med school, and he'd rather google potential dates than talk to them in person. He's never wanted for anything, least of all people who'd offer him dates, but he just doesn't have the time. As a result, his communication skills that don't involve diagnosis and recitation have atrophied.
"Look, man. If you're not gonna order yet, it's best to let the guy behind you go first. That cool with you?"
After a minute of staring at the dreamboat's face (Jongdae, the nametag supplies), the furball stuck in Joonmyeon's throat eases itself and he manages to croak out, "Two Capuccinos and a Mocha Latte, please."
"Okay. Sugar level?"
Hold the sugar, please, you're sweet enough for both of us - no. He did not just get possessed by the spirit of Jongin's patented pick-up lines for creepy perverts. Jongdae's raised eyebrow is telling him otherwise, though. "Not much. Half the sugar for the mocha latte and 70% for the capuccinos."
All in all, he takes five minutes and he's pretty sure the guy behind him is dying to punch him in the face, but he goes back to their table with the hugest grin ever.
"Guys, I think I'm in love."
"I forbid you from falling in love!" Jongin slams his hands down the table, glaring. "I've got first dibs on Lu Han!"
"Jongin, I'm really sure the tall guy who comes and picks him up everyday is his boyfriend."
"... You guys come here everyday and you didn't tell me? I'd like to redefine our terms on this friendship, if you please."
--
Joonmyeon thinks the reason why none of his previous flings worked out is because the degree of mutual fascination is directly proportional to hours spent together. And he's only ever spent time with his books, his patients and sometimes, his friends. So he resolves to spend at least three times a week studying at the coffeeshop, with or without company, and hope that things will sort themselves out in the right direction.
After two weeks, when Jongdae still looks at him like a pedophile scouting for fresh, young meat, he decides to take a more proactive approach. After all, how can he save a life if he can't be courageous every once in a while?
"Here's your Americano."
"Jongdae, if you were ground coffee, you'd be espresso because you're so fine."
"Er, wow. That's a new one."
That's a drastically different voice from the one he's expecting. He turns up and sees Lu Han's mildly amused expression staring down at him.
"Forget it," he mumbles, picking up his books and running out. He's already feeling stupid and disoriented by the time he reaches the street across, but that's when he hears him screaming, "Hey, you! You forgot your coffee!"
Joonmyeon wishes he could grind himself into dust and erode somewhere into the pavement. Instead, he slows his feet, braces himself and turns to meet Jongdae's breathless form. "I-I'm sorry. And thanks. I should probably get going. Again, I'm really sorry for the trouble."
"Look, it's okay." Jongdae's panting slows. "I think you're cute, too. And I've heard way better things than your 'hold the sugar' line, but that'll do."
Joonmyeon's heart stops. He actually heard that? But that was over three weeks ago! Scientific logic be damned, he is so going to incense his entire room and pray to the Buddhist gods to scrub Jongin's essence of horny maniac off him.
"... Like?"
He cautions to take a step closer, hoping that Jongdae would somehow know CPR when he blacks out on the street.
Jongdae grins, that charming, feline smile enough to make Joonmyeon's stomach knot itself into non-surgically removable pretzel twists. "Java number I can call you up at? Because I've been thinking about you a latte."
"Are you sure you really work in a hipster cafe? I'm pretty sure the owner would lynch you for saying things like that."
Jongdae shrugs. "Hey, I'm only working to pay the bills. Yixing is working to get himself through culinary school, and Lu Han's probably just there to fund his plushie sex toy addiction."
"... Come again?"
"Oh, I will be. But maybe after three or four dates, what do you say?"
3. scenes with food - kris/luhan; pg-13 (originally posted here)
Ten years later and Wu Fan still isn't tired.
He no longer wants to win back the friendships he's lost, no longer wants to dwell on all the could-have-beens of staying single and straight. Instead, he takes pleasure in his not so quaint home, gathers up his wits, tightens his jaw, and looks straight into the eyes of the devil incarnate - who also has the distinct pleasure of calling himself Wu Fan's boyfriend of five years.
"We are not getting this box of poptarts." His voice rises up and becomes a little manic when Lu Han only raises an eyebrow defiantly. "It has too much sugar and if I accidentally eat this when I'm hungover I'll bloat and break out--"
"Oh, relax. Even if I grind your face into the filthiest cement pavement there is, you'd still come back up looking like a marble statue." Lu Han throws the box of poptarts in the grocery cart. The box clangs merrily against the steel, jiving along to the sound of Wu Fan's inner tears. "Honey. Baby. Pumpkin."
"... What do you want?"
"Should I get the frosted corn cereal with real cookie dough bits or that pack of oreo cookies with extra cream?"
"If you must, get the corn."
"Why that face?" Lu Han asks even as he settles the cereal down between the canned goods and the pop tarts. "I thought you liked corn."
"Yeah, real corn. Sweet corn, fresh from the fields, boiled to perfection, and slathered in zero-fat butter. This--" He picks up the box and shakes it for emphasis. "Is not corn."
"I agree," Lu Han says testily. "It's corn made better."
"Lu Han, please." Wu Fan pinches the bridge of his nose. "You have to start eating better."
Lu Han chucks a pack of toblerones into the cart. "What are you talking about? I've been eating like this for the past fifteen years or so."
"Exactly. Your metabolism isn't what it once was."
Lu Han's head whips back, scandalized. "This body," he gesticulates to his entire body from chest to waist, "would beg to differ. So excuse you."
Wu Fan sighs, catching up to Lu Han when he begins to walk at a faster pace. "I'm just worried. I don't want to have to bring you to a hospital in the next two or three years because your heart suddenly decides it want to develop a coronary disease as a defense mechanism."
Lu Han suddenly stops in the middle of the aisle and throws his hands up. "Ugh. Fine. I'm putting the cereal and poptarts back. Meet me at the counter."
Wu Fan is so screwed.
When they get home and Lu Han snuggles up to him on the couch, he thinks maybe Lu Han's age is finally catching up to his short-term memory. He wraps an arm around Lu Han's hips and forgets all about it.
--
"There's no system to the kitchen. Until now. I give you the very simple job of tidying and cataloguing, but you're still - Lu Han? Are you listening? What is that smell?"
Lu Han pauses in his movements and looks over his shoulder at Wu Fan with unveiled amusement. "I'm making curry. Meifen taught me how." He smiles deceptively pleasant at Wu Fan, opening a packet of chicken cubes onto the cutting board. Wu Fan glowers behind him, staring down at Lu Han's ministrations. "You know, I feel kind of self-conscious," Lu Han says as he shucks a clove, "cooking with you looking over my shoulder."
"Self-conscious?" Wu Fan snorts. "You were an idol almost your entire 20's and you're self-conscious about this? And try not to hurt yourself tearing that packet of curry powder open."
"Haha," Lu Han retorts, but it doesn't carry much of an edge. "For your information, Meifen said I cook wonderfully." He sighs around the steam floating around his face. "Sometimes I wish I married her, but alas, Yixing got to her first."
Wu Fan rolls his eyes, grateful that Lu Han couldn't see, and wraps an arm around Lu Han's thin waist. How he manages to maintain the teenage boy waist is beyond Wu Fan, really, but he can't find it in himself to complain. "She won't last forty-eight hours in your company. You'll drive her nuts. Hell, you can drive me crazy in the span of thirty minutes. Tops."
"Ten when we were younger," Lu Han says quietly. "Tell me if this tastes okay."
He turns around and holds out the ladle, poking at Wu Fan's lower lip. "Not bad," he concedes, once he's downed the spoonful of aromatic soup. "You've come a long way from cup ramen and fried rice."
"My skills in general have come a long way, thanks."
And they have, too. They married in a private ceremony two years ago in Vancouver, and as a result, have alienated many close-minded family, friends and fans with the permanency of their decision. Only Sehun, Minseok and Yixing, lovely wives in tow, come by their Seoul condo regularly to visit. Lu Han's relationship with his parents, already on the rocks after his decade-ago decision to pursue the idol life, is already on life support. Loyal fansites closed; they're egged sometimes when they step out into airports.
There's so much they had to go through, rings of fucking fire they had to jump to be with each other. Through it all, Lu Han is still the only person on the planet who could possibly deal with his passive aggressiveness; he is the only who can fight with Lu Han over doing dishes while a game is on and still make it out alive.
"Another taste, FanFan."
Lu Han is half smiling, like he can read Wu Fan's mind. That alone makes the everything worth it.
"Oooh fuck. What the hell kind of spice did you put in there?!"
Okay, maybe not that worth it.
"The burning in hell variety," Lu Han tells him cheerfully. "You should have let me get those poptarts."
4. time to go - sehun/luhan; pg-13 (originally posted here)
In a volatile world - often moody, sometimes kind - it's humbling to remember control.
Sehun wants to curl up in a fetal ball, claim it as a valid defense mechanism, and wail until his throat becomes raw. And of course he can't, because only the two of them are left. Their friends have given their bodies back to the universe, but the two of them continue to die, dwindling day by day, dwarfed by the stench of death that covers every stretch of land where people used to dwell.
While waiting out the last gasps of civilization, Sehun sits on the ground, watching the cavernous expanse of thick ashen clouds concealing the stars that travelers once used to light their way home. Above the roof steeled ten times over, acid rain washes over the world, settling the dust, battering the earth. The sky, much like the earth, is littered with dead and dying heavenly bodies, exiled for eternity to the vast cold vacuum of space.
"Sehun. Buddy. You doing okay?" Jongin's hand clasps around his shoulder, little comforts that bring him back to the way the world used to be. "Go rest. I'll take it from here."
He nods, eyes following Jongin as he walks to the entrance of their makeshift camp. Silver numbers reading "0002d 06h 23m 38s" glint sharply against Jongin's wrist, and he looks away out of a strange sense of propriety. Jongin's partner, Baekhyun, died two weeks ago when organ hunters shot him clean with a bullet to the head. They found his body in the shadow of the the dead husk of a burned out nuclear power station near the abandoned house they were currently staying in.
On that day, Jongin doesn't cry. The days after, sometimes Sehun finds blood on Jongin's fingertips. His wrists are thinner and his voice, once a rowdy baritone, is now little more than eerie blows of air.
"Hey, can I ask for a favor?"
Sehun blinks. "What?"
"When I go, will you--"
"I told you, we aren't talking about this." His voice cracks as he sits up straight. "You're not going to die."
Jongin turns to look at him, eyes red-rimmed and watery. "You and I both know this watch is just riding out the race of my life before I conk out for good. Baekhyun is gone, and sooner or later I will be, too."
"That's a soulmate watch. It's not supposed to count down to... to--"
"Delusional is not a good look on you." Jongin chuckles lightly. Sehun feels the mourning in the echoes his voice makes around the camp. "At least look yours isn't working. Or you're lucky enough to have your soulmate die before you ever meet him."
Sehun is nineteen and there's nothing on his wrist. Most of his friend's watches activated at fifteen, sixteen. Jongin's activated at thirteen when they meet Baekhyun in an ice cream shop. Baekhyun trips and spills ice cream all over Jongin's Nike's, and seconds later there's loud mechanical tittering sounds coming from their bodies.
But for Sehun, a lover is like a high ceiling in a house he'll never own, a beautiful ornament he can't afford. Not a necessity, because he's lived this long without having one, hasn't he? A lover belongs only in dreams he's misplaced, the ones from which he wakes with his hands in the air as his mind cartwheels over possibilities.
"Anyway, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, when I go--"
"Jongin, shut the fuck--"
"When I go," Jongin presses, shoving his fists into his pockets. "Go back to town and bury me with Baekhyun. I want us to go together. There's a gun in the drawer of Baekhyun's parents' room, in case you can't find bullets on the way."
"There's nowhere to go and he's gone on without you," Sehun says irritably. He's too tired to say anything else. "Let me sleep."
"Yeah, yeah." Jongin laughs again, like he knows something Sehun doesn't. "You'll see."
--
Jongin's death strong-arms its way around his entire body, a veritable noose around his neck. He lays Jongin's body down on the plush cushion of a stolen Sedan and drives back to the city, back to Baekhyun's house. Inch by grimy inch he shovels dirt, his tears burying Jongin as much as the heavy weight of wet soil and mud.
A week in and he feels phantom pains of Jongin's presence beside him, the ache of losing a best friend lingering in the spaces he walks into. He should leave, hide out, let himself be hunted by fucking black market scum.
But he insists on staying in this house, even after reasons betray him.
He's on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, when he hears loud, sharp slamming of the front door. He freezes, shoulders hunched, and he races across the room on tip toes to slide the gun he keeps in the television cabinet into his hands. His heart thuds in his ribcage as he cocks it before edging towards the hallway. There are loud voices - male, four of them - feet pounding on the wooden floor. Sehun's body thrums with adrenaline, grief finally fading into the background of his mind.
He turns the corner and nearly drops his gun when beeping bounces off the walls. And the silver -
The numbers on his arm, and the numbers on the arm of another man a few feet away.
The man is unnervingly beautiful, the kind he can only dream of kissing in high school. He's also holding a Uzi rifle, staring at Sehun with wide, bright eyes.
"You're - you..." Sehun gapes. No goddamned way.
"Wow, Lu Han, about damn time your watch works. Your guy looks nice. I guess that means we can't kill him," the guy with the wild, toothy grin beside his - his fucking soulmate - says, slipping his gun into the back of his waist as he laughs at the both of them. "Hey, kid. You know anyone else in this town with a good ol' functioning liver or kidney?"
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dustheap
