poseidon

the long way home

jongin is not surprised easily by the people he keeps around him, especially when he’s known them for so long that he’s seen them walk through most of life’s stages by now, but sehun has truly shocked him with this little admittance. and it sounds like the honest truth as well, which is also something new for their friendship, nothing teeming or sly about the idea of him not getting any action on this trip. sehun is a low-effort kind of guy when it comes to most things, but he always manages to hook and reel people in with that sort of technique– there must be some great gravitational force keeping him on a narrow bridge like that.

“really?” jongin asks, not bothering to mask his feelings through his tone, his eyes scanning across sehun’s features as though he could read them, a slow grin spreading across his own lips. “no no, i didn’t fuck anybody on this trip, unless you count fucking people over.” he chuckles, glancing out the window as the bus finally begins rolling out of the parking lot and heading down the road. “yoori asked me not to, said it would cause too big a scandal, even for me.” he shrugs. “i didn’t feel like arguing or proving her wrong, so.” but then he returns his gaze back to sehun, lowering his voice. “what’s with you lately though? what’s your excuse?” either of them neglecting to engage in promiscuous behavior is odd enough, but both of them at the same time? it’s practically unheard of.

jongin’s admission is just as shocking as sehun’s probably was for him, and he’s hit with such a sheer disbelief that it renders him immobile and speechless for a few moments before a loud laughter erupts from his lips, uncharacteristic for him for sure, but certainly not unheard of. he can think of a few people who would never believe him if he told them such a thing had transpired, and more than a handful of them are from cinth. “wait til the boys hear about this one,” he says as his laughter dies down, though there’s no reason they would. there’s an unspoken rule between the two of them that “secrets” like these don’t go beyond their little circle, if you can even call it that. it’s more of a line than any other shape, but it’s a line with a solid foundation that’s hard to break, even if lines things like loyalty have never been a part of his vocabulary.

` ♠ ; 센치해.

          the flowers are a surprise, to say the absolute least. when it comes to sehun, she supposes she ought to expect whatever necessary to maintain appearances but there’s no one inside her dorm room to impress. as far as she knows, sehun’s father’s men haven’t been watching her as closely these days. not without much of a reason to. if anything, she senses eyes on her when she goes back and forth from her place to his, as if they check off how often she goes to visit him. 

           she wonders if any of them care how reclusive sehun has been as of late, that he doesn’t leave his room much less show his face to anyone but her, she’s almost certain of it. more than that, when they report back to his father, does he even care that his son is in such a concerning state? it’s lonely no matter how she thinks of it and she doesn’t consider herself the right person to get him through it, through what happened when he tried to find his mother, or to continue this agreement. no one believed it from the start and it’s not as if she’s done her sincere best to convince them of such when no one is around. how many of her friends questioned it? how many told her that it just didn’t seem possible? 

          months ago, she wouldn’t think it either, still doesn’t understand why he prefers this to repaying her debt in another way or asking for something else now that he refuses to leave his place. the more she considers it, the less she wants to know the true answers, to see anything more than a contract signed 100 days ago. if not for the flowers, she would’ve thought he didn’t know. he has to know, right? otherwise, why the flowers? 

          still, no matter how much she opposed it before, no matter how she is confused by it now, there’s a gift for him in her bag when she makes it to his door, food packed in bentos and even dessert for the pickiest person she knows. how he doesn’t like sweets is still a surprise to her. 

          she has her own routine by now for visiting him. shoes exchanged for slippers she’s left there, food dropped off in the kitchen, and petting dolce while she settles in, checking over things so that he isn’t just wasting away on his own. ( why she’s come to care that much is beyond her. ) but this time, there’s food already there, things on the counter that match her preferences, and he’s not complaining or telling her to leave once she’s inside. leaving what she’d brought on the counter too, choosing to wait to look too closely, to avoid the risk of being teased for being affected by something not hers but just there to taunt her, she goes over to him, dolce at her heels and even resting her paws on lara’s calves when she kneels next to the couch, hesitantly reaching out to brush his hair away from his face. she’s said it before and she believes it months after they’ve met, he’s cuter with his mouth shut. 

it’s inexplicably difficult to keep still when he hears her shuffling around in his apartment, dolce’s body leaving his to go and greet their guest. it’s as if he can hear every single sound she makes, from her footsteps to the breaths she takes as she makes her way through his place, a routine even he’s memorized by now, albeit begrudgingly. despite it all, though, he keeps his eyes shut, not too tightly, not too light, just enough to be believable, a skill he’d picked up during the years he’d spent in london with his uncle, who made sure sehun kept an unbearably strict schedule, or else. admittedly, it’s not a skill he thought he’d use in a situation such as this, but life works in mysterious ways, as they say.

his body stiffens as he hears her draw closer, and he nearly holds his breath, only remembering to do so when he feels her settle beside him. there’s a very brief moment of complete quiet and silence, and he nearly opens his eyes to see what’s happening, but then he feels it. the gentle brush of her fingers, the movement of his hair away from his face. it feels nostalgic for some reason, calming in a manner he hasn’t felt in quite some time. it brings up memories he only wants to forget now, and it causes his eyes to shoot open, finding himself looking straight into her eyes.

“you came,” he says, grabbing her by the wrist to keep her from touching him again, though he doubts she’d do so now that he was ‘awake.’ he tries his best to keep his expression neutral, but he’d been so caught off guard that he’s almost certain that his eyes betray him, even if for a split second.

he lets go of her hand as he sits up, running his fingers through his hair himself, attempting to rid himself of the last remaining remnants of warmth that had run through him, settling back into his familiar cold capacity. for a few moments he sits there, in the realization of everything he’s done in just the past few hours alone---the flowers, the food, the gifts, the waiting---and he grows even more frustrated with himself, the reasoning behind everything evading him. he clicks his tongue, ruffling his own hair in exasperation before abruptly standing up, making his way to the kitchen where everything was set up.

` ♠ ; public image.

She was still not used to these parties, her old lifestyle always made her feel uncomfortable and even if it was hypocritical of her, she found that the thing that rubbed her the wrong way was just how fake everyone was.  Sure, she was guilty of hiding what she considered the “weaker” version of herself behind her overcompensating charm she put on or her annoyed exterior she gave other people.  These people were worse. They bought into their own hype, thinking they were more important than everyone else, just because they had more money.  They weren’t.

That being said, she could put on the act better than anyone, playing up the part of the charming young lady that her stepdad wanted her to show these people.  His comment brings a smile to her face, the few times that someone knew the real her, they always seemed to be impressed with how she pulled it off. Maybe she should have gone into acting or something.  Did they have a club for that on campus?  Well, maybe that was too much socializing for her. “I do my best, can’t give a bad impression as your date, can I?”

She chuckled as he asks about drinking, she normally would have no problem with that.  “If that’s what you’d rather do, we can.  I’m not one to turn down a drink,” she says, still looking around the room as they speak.  “I can’t say that the shooting range is exactly my destination of choice, but if it means getting out of here, give me some ammunition.”  She really didn’t want to make more than the needed appearance at this thing if she could help it.  “Though I am open to other suggestions as well.”

he chuckles to himself, shrugging his shoulders with nonchalance. honestly, he couldn’t care less how she nor him came off to all these crusty old people and super rich kids, but his father would certainly have something to say about it, and that in itself is enough reason for him to agree with her sentiment. “that’s why my father chose you, after all,” he says, raising his glass as if in a toast, even though she hasn’t picked up a glass yet. honestly that, too, he finds impressive. he can hardly get through one of these things without one.

“if i’m drinking, i’d rather it not be here,” he says, taking another generous swig from his glass, downing half of it in one go. he peers at his surroundings, and it only makes him want to leave even more, despite emily’s vague apprehensions about his desired destination. “oh, believe me, there’s plenty of ammunition to be had, but have you ever used a firearm before?” he glances at her, an almost mocking expression on his face, as if doing so should be anyone’s second nature. “perhaps we’d be better off driving of somewhere far away from all...” he looks around again, waving his hand around. “this.”

dirty work

When he finally relents, seemingly for reasons that weren’t her threat she doesn’t question it and instead does as he says as she sits. Yoori usually fights him on everything as it was their custom however, she plays obedient for it will be far more streamlined this way. Taking her seat, as she is rewarded with accurate information for once. Taking a deep breath, she begins typing both the date and the confirmed place of birth in the gaps between the flourishes from earlier. Everyone seemed to have secrets in this school, it wasn’t anything unusual for Sehun to be defensive as he may have something from his upbringing that he was trying to hide. Frankly, Yoori was not interested in his back story, nor was she looking to pry any further from his mind than what was necessary. She didn’t know why he had to be so protective, it’s not like she would do anything with the information. Why would she? Having enough skeletons in her own closet made no room for his.

Glancing up, she notices that he is no longer looking at her and instead is fixated elsewhere. She doesn’t attempt to meet his eyes as she keeps typing and only sparing a, “good line.” As she adds the words verbatim that sound almost sincere from her fingertips and not his lips, he seemed almost bitter but she knew better not to pry. “When did you return to Korea?” She inquired after a beat, realizing that with such an obviously sensitive topic as his travels seem to be, she should probably not ask more on the subject and just leave it to the teacher’s imagination. Maybe implying that he was so many places that he lost count at one point or another, who knows. Yoori is not sure what it’s like to be international as she had never even left her hometown before high school and she had still yet to travel outside the bounds of the peninsula. 

“You don’t have to tell me everything, but for anything you leave out you have to offer different information so at least I can cover the holes in the story. For instance, you don’t have to tell me what countries you visited but you should tell me how long you were overseas…etc etc.” She is still typing before glancing up, and meeting brooding features and a sharp look in his eyes, he always seems like he’s ready to cut into anyone. Thankfully it didn’t seem like he viewed her as much target practice. “I’m not your therapist, and honestly. I wouldn’t want to be.” Yoori had enough of the rich fucked lives from dating Jongin, it was enough for her at the present she didn’t want to hear more. 

for a moment, he finds himself far away, in those lands he’d grown up in, far from the comforts in which he’d spend a small chunk of his childhood, away from the safety he thought it brought, only for it to get snatched away, never to return again. it’s exactly these things that make him never speak about his past, never want to reveal his childhood because these are things that invoke pity, and that’s the last thing he wants to be associated with. but it last a split second, returned to reality by the sound of yoori’s voice and the subsequent tapping of her fingers against the keyboard. he can only snort at the compliment she gives him, but he’s glad that she at least isn’t prying any further into his answers, isn’t looking to dig too deep.

the follow up question she asks is innocuous in and of itself, but the full answer he could give could reveal his entire existence---the reason behind his lack of empathy, the motivations behind his ruthlessness, the manner in which he’d learned to survive in such a cutthroat world. but he wouldn’t have survived this long without people knowing if he hadn’t learned to lie, hadn’t learned to circumvent the truth, she he shrugs his shoulders, feigning nonchalance as usual. “i came back to start attending snu,” he replies, his voice a single monotonous note, betraying not a single ounce of the ghosts of his past. with a dry, humorless laugh, he adds, “i was a shoo-in, what, with my extensive worldly travels and pedigrees.”

two hundred days.

it’s been two hundred days since that legally binding contract had been made, two hundred days since he’d vowed to make lara’s life a living hell. what started as just a fun game for him to play, a means to fill his empty existence with his version of fun has inexplicably turned him inside out, causing him to question his own motives, question every strange sensation---dare he say it, emotion---a confusion that lasts even now, on the day before last, and one he can only imagine would continue on until the very moment the deal is done. because of this, he contemplates not contacting lara on this second the last day, but doing so would be an absolute waste of a contract, so he makes his way to her dorm with only a few quick text messages as warning.

upon arrival at her doorstep, he realizes he doesn’t have a game plan---no grand gala to force her to, no expensive dress to make her wear, no photographers to show off to; even his father’s hired men seem to have taken the day off for the evening. all his usual tricks are out the window, and he stands there confounded at the predicament he’s put himself into. why has this happened? is he trying to be...nice?

brows furrowed, he knocks at her door anyway, determined to at least bother her with his presence even if he has no further plan than that. he may not have some diabolical event lined up for her, but he’s not going to let her off that easy. patience wears thin at five seconds, and he knocks again, voice filled with putlance as he calls out to her, fingers curling around the doorknob. “i told you i was coming over. what’s taking you so long?”

` ♠ ; gift horse.

( ... )

the subsequent silence that fills the room breaks with the ring of the doorbell that came a good half hour later. junhyung jumped out of his seat and skids towards the door, anticipating the food delivered from sehun’s personal chef. he doesn’t bother looking through the peephole and opens the door wide, a big beam plastered across his excited face as he retrieves the food. aroma fills the previously stale and gloomy room as junhyung sets the food on the table, clearing his throat to get sehun’s attention, making muffled sounds with his closed lips that were meant to say, “come and eat!” 

sehun has a love and hate relationship with silence. when he craves it, it’s a blessing, a moment of solitude for him to rest his thoughts along with the noise, a chance to just exist in reality without worrying about his place in it, or about any conceived notion of a future. there are also the kinds that are comfortable, between two people, not awkward in any way, but serene, calming. but those are few and far between, long gone with the days of his youth. then there are times when the silence is deafening, on lunch dates with his father and his father’s trophy, when the alcohol helps ease the crushing weight of the lack of conversation and the judgmental look in his father’s eyes.

and then there are times like now, where he can’t decide whether the silence is good or bad, and if there’s anything more annoying than good silence interrupted, it’s the indecisiveness. his brows furrow, lips set in a straight line. there’s an attempt to avoid junhyung’s eyes or even looking in his direction, but he can’t help but do so anyway. the younger has always been good at keeping the mood light, keeping sehun’s heavy shoulders off the ground many times when they were younger, but it doesn’t seem to be working this time. does it mean he’s increased the distance between them too far? isn’t that what he wanted in the first place? a frown appears on his face as he looks away, contemplating his existence.

an apology is at the tip of his tongue, but he’s never been the type to make them, that’s where it stays, useless and stupid, casting a bitter taste. he opens his mouth in another attempt, but it’s interrupted by the sound of an arrival at his apartment, and despite his wishes for solitude the past few weeks, he’s glad, for once, to hear it. in a last ditch attempt to wordlessly apologize, he grabs the dishes and utensils needed to eat while junhyung gets the door, placing it at the table. he still has no desire to eat, but he can at least attempt to---or, at the very least, pretend.

he takes a seat, opening up the bag and boxes that had been delivered. it’s no surprise the amount of food and excess that awaits inside---the premium hanwoo beef, no doubt cooked to a perfect medium rare; the array of side dishes, including rice, freshly prepared; the still-steaming bowl of gamjatang; the thoughtful and totally unnecessary plate of french deserts in the form of macarons, creme brulee, and opera cake. his chef usually never makes this much, but he, too, must have noticed the radio silence from sehun’s end, and embarrassing realization. 

the long way home

@sgnxsehun​

jongin flops himself down into the seat next to sehun a little more messily than he’d actually intended, landing a bit like a rock onto the padding, but he makes up for it by grinning and busying himself with stuffing his valuables down underneath the chair fold, as he’d been instructed on doing before getting on the bus. it takes a little bit of effort and he’s certain he’s broken something inside the bag, but right now he really can’t bring himself to care much about that, still a little residually tipsy from his weekend-long constant intoxication fest. it’s been a surprisingly chill trip for him, all things considered, despite a few awkward, unwanted moments with a choice few people.

but sehun, the poor bastard, looks like he’s coming back from hell, as though the sun hadn’t touched him at all during the last couple of days, as though the world had completely forgotten about him in the turmoil of trying to keep jongin satiated. he finally rights himself and leans back against the headrest, inhaling deeply and settling in, the lines and curves of everything around him wobbling for a moment. he glances over at his friend. “so,” he begins, urgingly, nudgingly, a dry chuckle boiling up from his gut, “what’s your count? how much sex did you get?”

he doesn’t know how he always manages to let himself get dragged to these kind of things. long before he’d even enrolled at seongnam university, sehun had always been averse to the typical gatherings that others seemed to enjoy, the forced bonding experiences that was supposed to bring people together, invoke lifelong memories, but all they ever brought him were headaches and the desire to be anywhere else but there. usually, alcohol helped him tolerate things better, and while he did indulge in his vice more than usual during that trip, even that did not ease the banality of it all. needless to say, when it was finally time to head home, he couldn’t get on that bus fast enough, glad that the person he’s sat next to is someone he can tolerate.

𝙕𝙊𝙉𝙀 ˟

          “ dolce has her place, and i have mine, ” turning away from his watchful eyes, lara mimics him under her breath, head bobbing back and forth as she rolls her eyes. if anything, it reminds her of the things he would say in the beginning of their arrangement. vaguely, she wonders if he thought of her back then as a pet more than a person and yet he seems to treat dolce better than he treats others so just what is it? a source of entertainment, right? that’s what it was before. now? now, she doesn’t have a single clue what he thinks of her, how he feels— to have trusted her so much to take her along on that trip and to not lock her out the past few weeks. is it months now? 

          it’s ironic, though, that despite giving her the code to his place, despite knowing he’s been woken up by her moving around in the kitchen, dolce jumping down when she calls, he makes such a blunt claim. for once, she doesn’t argue it, doesn’t care to because she’s surprisingly more interested in the next answer he gives her. 

          “ polite, ” she repeats, stifling a laugh as she just barely shakes her head, looking through a rack of cute shirts for the right size. sizing for dogs of the same breed of dolce is always more difficult though and she gives up once she thinks that he’ll say no because it’s too mainstream but she doesn’t move away just yet. instead, she freezes once he says it’s just her and she wonders why her chest feels so dull again. he’s been more honest in this relationship, contract or not, and it’s not even one of the conditions that he can’t see anyone else or sleep around secretly. why doesn’t he? with the reputation he has, why is it just her? “ so … like any of the beds? if it’s a bed you want for her, we should go somewhere else. ”

“yes, polite,” he spits out, as if the very idea of dolce being impolite is ludicrous, and it is. as awful as a person as he is, dolce is an absolute angel, and he would never stand for her being impolite. he realizes, of course, that part of that thinking is ingrained in him by his father, who also tried to raise him to be the same---obedient, cordial, considerate---but it’s different when it comes to a dog and a human child. plus, sehun would never threaten to disown dolce and send her overseas if she stepped out of line, so maybe he and his father aren’t so alike, after all. (a man can only dream.)

he’s abandoned the pillow now, and with nowhere else to focus his attention, it lands on lara, and the way she seems to freeze up at his answer. his brows furrow before one rises in confusion; has he done something wrong again? he hasn’t even once tried getting on her nerves yet, and he doesn’t think he’s said anything strange. he doesn’t address it verbally, though, choosing instead to watch her expression, trying to gain a hint from something, anything, but there’s nothing. instead, he merely gets a question back, one he shakes his head at.

` ♠ ; public image.

This wasn’t the first time and it wasn’t likely to be the first time that he stepfather had pushed her into a situation to accompany an acquaintance’s son to one of their public events to play the part of some arm candy for the evening.  Even she had heard the rumors, which was kind of laughable since she rarely paid attention to the social circle her parents were part of, unless she was looking to cause some trouble, so she really wasn’t surprised when she was called on to fill this particular role.

The two of them had made this journey together before, it wasn’t like Sehun was a mystery to her either.  He wore his displeasure like a shield on his face while she kept up her appearance with a loaded smile and polite looks towards anyone that gazed their way.  Even if he wasn’t willing to play the part, she would for the two of their sake.

His words bring a laugh from her as well as a nod. “That’s fine by me, you know I can’t stand these things too long either,” she pauses, giving a sweet smile to one of the women her stepfather worked with, only to roll her eyes once the woman had turned her back to her.  “Have anything in mind once we leave this place?  I’m not opposed to anything, really. “

galas like these are easy to ditch, their presence hardly mandatory once the cocktail hour is over, especially when they’re here on their own without the supervision of their parents. the most important part is that first hour, where intermingling is not only encouraged, but practically required. the rubbing of elbows, the exchanging of stories, the vaguely veiled competition among the upper echelon of the country, trying to outdo one another in whatever way possible. it disgusts him. but this is the life he was born into, and try as he might to ruin it at every possible chance, he just can’t seem to make his great escape.

he snorts, a sarcastic twitch of his lips forming into a semblance of a smile. yes, he knows quite well how she despises these things, and it’s one of the factors that makes her tolerable than most others he’s been forced to get to know through all of his father’s connections. even an hour seems like too much, but it’s the bare minimum they’ll have to endure if they don’t want to get an earful once they head back home once the event’s hours have passed. he notices the ease with which she puts on a facade with the woman that passes, and can’t help but let out a small chuckle, commenting, “your duality never fails to amaze me.”

dirty work

Yoori makes a show of rolling her eyes, “and risk having the teacher ask about any of experiences you have and you floundering? Absolutely not..” It wasn’t that the tall brunette didn’t want to make a fool of her client, that actually would be quite entertaining, it was the fact that he was just another card that was placed delicately in her pyramid. Since he was one of her first clients, she was certain that if he was to be pulled out then the entire tower would fall. She could not risk that. Not even for his laziness. 

“Lucrative could be objective, in comparison to everyone else at this school with allowances double my rate. It feels more minuscule than anything.” Brushing her hair away from her face, she pulls out a hair band from her purse and begins to tie the long hair back. A sign of focus. “Let’s just assume you were born in Seoul because everyone was.” She types this down and begins adding embellishments on the fancy hospital and how long the labor was. Some of the kids here were more famous than wealthy and they were googable, sadly Sehun was not one of those kids and so she had to pry this information from his hand. “Can I at least get a fucking birthday?” 

Hearing his laugh brought no satisfaction as she rolled her shoulders back, “depends on the religion. You don’t strike me as catholic, though you could be more of just a poem fan.” That seemed even less plausible but she digressed, “listen Sehun. I’m going to need some information or I won’t help you. I’m not here to babysit you or hold your hand through this process, I’m here to record it and make you sound eloquent enough to make an A. If you can’t be co-operative than I’m leaving.” Standing up, she looks at him her expression unreadable, as this was hardly a bluff. She didn’t have time to pull a rich kid’s teeth, she had her own homework to do as well. “And as previously discussed I don’t give refunds for the upfront half payment.” 

she’s clearly growing more and more annoyed the more he draws this out, and while he does find his usual satisfaction in this little exchange, somehow he feels like his heart’s not in it---well, what little of a heart he has left, anyway. it’s been like that for the past few months now, and while he can certainly lay the blame on the devastating information he’d found out about his mother, there’s a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that says there are other factors that come into play here, factors that he is neither willing to discuss nor admit. in any case, it makes everything a lot less fun, and seeing her reactions a lot less fulfilling. in fact, the whole thing grates on his own nerves for whatever reason, and having his own game turned back on him is all the more infuriating.

“fine, fine. calm your ass down. have a seat,” he says, annoyance clear in his tone. it’s not even that he really needs this assignment---at least, not in the traditional sense. even if he didn’t turn it in, he knows his dear father would find out (like he always does) and find a way to fix it, most certainly with the seemingly endless amounts of money he has. but sehun is tired. he’s tired of his father always meddling in his affairs, of having his entirely life dedicated to making that man’s a living hell. he’d rather spill some details on his life to yoori than have his father pay a visit to campus, and that’s where she has the upper hand. it isn’t about the money, or the grades, it’s for his own piece of mind. “april 12th. my birthday. april 12th, 1997.”

⤿ runway (runaway)

— [ ♡ ] she’s pretty silent as they begin to walk, but she does offer the male a small nod to indicate that she was listening to his directions. had he shown that his natural disposition was friendlier than what she’s seen so far, yooa would take this time to strike a short conversation between the two of them. an introduction, a few questions about his educational background and what not to break the awkward silence between the two of them. but it doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s not one to talk, so she keeps to herself. 

she does have to stain her ears, but as the two of them walk farther into the grove of trees, she does begin to hear the telltale signs of barking (which makes her relieved because at least they haven’t lost the pup. she rolls out her shoulders as she walks in anticipation. the faster they get this done, the faster they can both go along their separate ways. she’s not particularly keen of the male walking by her side and she’s pretty sure he feels the same. 

 ❝ i’ll go this way again. ❞ she says, lifting a hand, thumb poking out and pointing to her left. ❝ you can come from the opposite and we’ll try to corner her back here again. ❞ they probably should have a back up plan, considering that they did fail the first time they tried it, but from how fast the canine was chasing after the squirrel, she can’t imagine another option. despite having longer legs than the pup, both of them pale in comparison when it comes to speed. she briskly walks to her side after getting confirmation from the male, stopping when she’s a good enough distance. she stretches out her body one last time, wincing when her bruised muscles protest. she mumbles a quick you got this to herself and turns around, walking in the original direction that she had come from in hopes of trapping dolce between the two of them. 

soon enough, dolce’s barks get loud enough and near enough for him to pinpoint the general direction in which she’d gone off, and he allows some relief to flow through him, though certainly not all of the way, seeing as how she is yet to be caught. there’s a part of him that knows she’d come back to him eventually, but there are too many outside factors that might prevent that from happening that he isn’t comfortable just letting things lie as they are. for instance, someone might up and take her as their own, or worse, some harm could come her way. no, it’s safe this way, chasing her down, even if it’s a pain, and even if he actually had to ask for help from a stranger to do it.

he’s actually happy that she’s taking initiative instead of waiting for him to bark commands at her, but if there’s any indication in his body language or expression that he is, it’s imperceptible, just as any of his other emotions are. he merely nods when she speaks, allowing her to walk off as he goes the opposite direction. in due time, he spots his mischievous pup yet again, still barking at that same fucking squirrel, but this time, he’s not going to allow her to escape. communication seems to be key here, so he calls out to yooa before dolce can even get him in her sights.

𝙕𝙊𝙉𝙀 ˟

          she’s tempted to look up more places that have pet items and other decor or anything really. maybe this is the tip she needed all along in order to get sehun to enjoy shopping even for a moment. if it’s for one’s pet, isn’t anyone susceptible in the end? but lara’s always enjoyed shopping for others more than herself. even in prop shops, she thinks of her sister, of her cousin, of any friend that would enjoy this or that or a sticker she’d love to put on a letter or polaroid just for that person. 

          when they first met, lara thought all the anger mark stickers in the world couldn’t suffice for sehun. whether she means her anger or his, she still doesn’t know. he used to just be … so frustrating and, though he probably hates it, she sees him differently now, especially after knowing a little more about his mother. she misses her own so, without asking how long it’s been since he saw her, she can’t imagine how it must feel. seems more painful to her, to know she’s alive but you can’t see her though lara might, admittedly, be very biased for her own reasons. 

          the delight in her eyes is hard to disguise in the moment that his answer implies not only that dolce wears it still but that he doesn’t plan on changing it anytime soon. sure, she’d pretended the gift was mostly for dolce but she thought sehun would appreciate a handmade gift more than anything she could buy despite where they are now. “ does she need a new bed? you’re really not one of those owners that lets your dog sleep with you? or does she prefer being on her own? she probably doesn’t care for all your guests before. ” 

sehun can be quite the observant person, and when he sees the way her face lights up after his answer causes him to snort briefly, one corner of his lips quirking upward. he should have known it had been an underhanded way of asking whether he uses the gift she’d gotten; perhaps a part of him did. of course, the collar is not as expensive as the plethora of other collars he has littered around his apartment, but dolce doesn’t seem to mind it, so he hasn’t made any effort to change it, nor does he think he’ll be doing so any time soon.

“dolce has her place, and i have mine,” he says, giving her a look that says she should have known that even though she’d only fairly recently discovered the fact that he even had a dog in the first place. never mind that for the duration of the time he’d kept himself locked away, he’d spent much of his sleeping hours on the couch, dolce rested upon his chest, but she doesn’t need to know that. (she probably already does know it, given the times she’d visited him during that time.)

⤿ runway (runaway)

— [ ♡ ] the doppler effect is a rather familiar subject to her, given that one of her majors as an undergraduate was physics. so when she detects the shift in frequency of barking, she knows that dolce must be running towards her, even as she continues to walking forward. she detects this change first, followed soon after by his shouting so she stops in the middle of her walk and readys herself to catch the pup with a narrowed look in her eyes. the squinting does nothing to improve her vision, but it does help her focus her attention on the approaching canine. 

had her calculations been correct, she should be holding a black french bulldog in her arms, especially after she all but threw herself onto the ground trying to catch her. and she was close; she did manage to envelop the canine in her arms but dolce wiggled herself out of the embrace and ran off to continue her chase of the pesky squirrel. 

yooa groans, picking herself off the ground and dusts off her shirt and pants when the male reaches to where she is. she’s probably going to be slightly bruised tomorrow from the impact, but if she has to be honest, she’d rather be slightly bruised and dusty than have to wash mud off her clothes. besides, as a dancer, she’s pretty used to having bruises all over her body.  ❝ let’s try that one more time. ❞ she says. she might not be keen on throwing her body against the hard ground again, but she’s committed herself to helping him, so she’ll do whatever it takes. 

he makes his way toward them, watching as she catches dolce in her arms, but the elation he feels is short-lived when dolce wiggles her tiny little body out of the woman’s arms, embarking on her chase once again. a groan escapes him, his footsteps slowing once he’s close enough. he has half a mind to scold her for allowing dolce to escape once again, but seeing as how she’s willingly helping him out, he refrains from doing so for once. instead, he places his hands on his hips, throwing his head back as he tries to catch his breath.

admittedly, he’s quite impressed that she had thrown her whole body into trying to catch dolce, a total stranger’s dog, a man who had even been quite rude to her when asking for help, of course, he’d never admit to any of that, so he shakes his head instead, rolling up his sleeves to help alleviate some of the heat he’s accumulated from running all over the place. “yeah,” he says of her words, looking off in the distance, trying to spot dolce, but unable to see her.