If Valentineās Day was going to go anything like Sehun has planned, he would be holed up in his apartment for the entire day with an amiable partner in his arms - a pet, past or present, or someone who wouldnāt mind spending a lazy few hours with him while he dozed off in a well-deserved nap - but the obnoxiously pink post-it note thatās slapped in the middle of his computer screen tells him that he might not get quite what he wants. A quiet sigh escapes his lungs as he cautiously lowers himself onto his high-back office chair, warily eyeing his desk for any other signs of tampering-- indeed, if the strange churning sensation in his stomach was of any indication, his day would not at all go according to plan.
And Sehunās instincts are never wrong. Ever.
The illegible scrawl becomes more comprehensible the harder he stares at the jumbled letters, eyebrows rising higher and higher with each word that he decodes. A surprise date? Bungee jumping? Who, of all of the employees who work under him, would have the audacity to tromp into the directorās office and announce, on paper, that they had taken it upon themselves to set Sehun up on the alleged āmost romanticā day of the entire year? This little incident must be why his secretary was biting back a smile when he made his way past the office threshhold; she mustāve known what was coming, probably more than even he does. Itās a bit disgruntling - maybe even a little scheming - but heās not irritated enough to take it upon himself to find the culprit. Not at all.
āI heard that you liked younger men, so--ā Sehun snorts after giving the note a second read, already well on his way to simply accept his fate (for the day) and indulge whosoeverās antics this happened to be. He hasnāt yet called any of his past acquaintances up to keep him company for the day and he would hate to have to stand someone up-- someone who clearly has a friend who liked to take situations into their own hands. (There were plenty of college interns who would fit the description, but, well, he won't go pointing any fingers, not when the deed's already been done.) And anyways, it was about time for him to break his age-old routine of work, sleep, work, and work; this was as good as any other sweet and brief distractor.
The combination of convenience and willingness to adapt is what has Sehun lingering a respectable distance away from the entrance to the recreational reservation that was scribbled at the back of the post-it, fingers trimming the edge of his button-up sleeve as he patiently waits for the clock to strike noon. He canāt quite recall the last time heād been at a park (let alone one with activities that required an injury and death waiver) and he feels a bit out-of-place amongst the college-age couples that litter the reservation. Sehun may look young for his age but the fact that heās only a year or two away from thirty is something that he himself canāt ever forget.
An uneventful ten minutes pass before he finally shifts his weight onto his other leg, glancing at the clock in a gesture of habit; five more minutes to go. Maybe he shouldnāt have come so early but his punctuality is a habit thatās been drilled into his self and itās not something that can easily be ignored.
āPerhaps this wasnāt quite as smart of an idea as Iād first thought--ā he murmurs, musing to himself as his eyes flit around in search for anyone who seemed as lost as he was, partner-less and all. The quest, of course, ends fruitless; thereās not a single single person in sight.
But Sehun's not the kind to get so easily deterred. He'll wait half an hour; to hell with whatever else he could consume his time with. He was, if anything, an opportunist.
