#sehun request

Sehun quite often forgot that before you were his girlfriend you were Kyungsoo’s best friend. It was moment’s like these where he resented that fact. You were at the dorms and you had been hanging out with Sehun in his room, just the two of you taking about everything and nothing. The key words here are had been. Kyungsoo had barged into his room WITHOUT KNOCKING and took you away because ‘he had you first, which gives him the right to steal you whenever he likes’. Please note the sarcasm…

So, now here you all were sitting in the living room watching a movie together and you were curled up next to Kyungsoo with Jongin on the other side. And look whilst it frustrated him that you found so much comfort in the other boys, he wasn’t jealous. Nope. Not at all. He even made it through a large majority of the film before you caught onto his jealousy. The whole film you had been whispering with Kyungsoo and Jongin, Sehun could only assume that you were asking questions about the film, however, it was when you started laughing that set him off. It wasn’t even the quiet giggle you normally do around your friends; it was the full belly laugh that was usually reserved for him and him only.

‘Babyyyyyy…’ he whined, desperate for your attention, but no you kept laughing at something that Kyungsoo had said, then Junmyeon piped up and said something absolutely ridiculous, which caused a loud snort and tears to well up in your eyes. Sehun had had enough but also didn’t want to bethatboyfriend who constantly removed you from fun situations. You only noticed his mood change when he abruptly stood up and left the room, which cut your laughter off instantly. You quickly stood up, apologised to Kyungsoo and chased off after Sehun down the hall.

When you finally reached his door you could hear his soft footsteps indicating that he was pacing around his room, so you took you’re hand reached up, knocked and then proceeded to shuffle into the room, your head hung because you understood what had happened.

‘Hun?’ you whispered as his head snapped toward you ‘I’m sorry I broke my promise. I know I promised that I would spend today with you, no interruptions…’

Sensing how upset the situation had made you he replied, ‘Y/N, no. No, no, no, no. I forget that you had Kyungsoo before you had me and that kind of inseparable friendship is hard to be away from, I mean look at me and Myeon. I get it, and I’m the one who should be sorry for reacting like that again…’

You interrupted before he had the chance to continue, ‘Do you wanna maybe sat in here and watch a movie? Just you and me? I promise no interruptions.’

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, a small smile graced his lips as he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto the bed, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’   

PLEASE REQUEST OR ASK ME QUESTIONS! 

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The key cards were an example of that. On these trips, we'd always find a way back to each other. I'd let myself into his room for a movie night. We'd share a blanket and pop corn and I always woke up in his bed while he slept on the couch. He'd let himself in because sometimes he couldn't stand the quiet. We'd sit on the floor and fill the silence and it was almost comical how hard we tried to fight off sleep. For years, that's who we were, always making room for the other.

The key cards feel like they've lost their meaning and it's naïve to hope they'll help me rebuild anything now.

He looks up from his spot on the couch and I step into his room. We're in the eye of the storm and this silence is haunting. We stare, searching for the flaw in this armor. We've spent years learning and memorizing each other's patterns, these pin-point reactions, and this stalemate breaks when one of us does.

"I didn't sleep with him," I offer him an olive branch. He tries to be nonchalant as he stands, shrugs his shoulders, dusts off his shirt, but the truth is evident in the lock of his jaw, the stiffness of his posture. Even pretending gives him away.

"It makes no difference to me," Sehun says, his tone dry, uninterested. He doesn't approach me but he jerks his head, motioning me towards the door. I stand my ground. There is too much at stake for his false inattention, too much momentum, and this is a reality neither of us can run from now.

"Then why are you acting like this?" I ask. I stare him down and the moment holds. He's reading the landscape, gaging whether this is a battle worth scarring for.

He rolls his eyes. He's distancing himself from the wreckage, as if the hurt hadn't spurred him forward this morning. But everything's different and I push us closer to a precipice. Fatigue wants to ease us back into old patterns-- hurt and retreat, hurt and retreat-- but there are no more walls to hide behind.

"Tell me yesterday meant nothing to you," The demand trembles on my lips and he narrows his eyes. Despite the fear that embraces my heart, I step forward. We're standing at a cliff's edge, a sheer drop of uncertainty waiting below us. His answer determines the weight of these consequences.

Sehun shakes his head and makes to walk away but I pull him back and he lets me.

"Look at me and say it." I order through gritted teeth. My nails imprint crescent moons on his skin, and the anger between us expands, a fiery storm, threatening to decimate everything in proximity.

"No," He snarls, ripping away from my grasp. "It won't change anything."

Touch. Feel. Break.

I shove at his chest, feeling the betrayal burning on my cheeks.

"You're such a coward," I choke out and I go to shove him again, but he turns the tables.

"And you’re acting like a child," He snaps, grasping my forearms, keeping me in one place. The first tear follows a bitter path down my face and his hold softens. His gaze remains steadfast though, rooted in his need for self-preservation. He's going to run, fast and far, and he'll hide everything we've been through with the other skeletons of his mistakes.

"Say it," My voice is disappearing, vanishing in this tangle of hope and fear. "Say it so I can walk away, Sehun."

His silence is excruciating. Every second that passes is poorly timed to a heartbeat that threatens to crack my ribs. I can see it in his eyes, a battle of will-- fight or flight-- and .

I take a deep breath.

"It's okay," I whisper to him, to myself, to this phantom pain that's learning how to keep hurting. "I'll make it easy for the both of us."

I take a step back and he lets go. This is how we survive; by stacking lies atop of each other, by pretending their weight won't crush us.

"Sehun," His name sounds hollow. "Yesterday meant noth-"

"Don't."

His voice breaks on the word. It's a faithless stride, a breach of tradition, the way he sets everything aside to press his body against mine. He's fighting an instinct urging him to flee.

"Please don't." Sehun murmurs against my hair.

His hand is on the small of my back, guiding me towards him, treading a worn path that always leads us to each other. Our hearts are thundering, battling the toxic silence of our fear.

Touch. Feel. Break.

His hand shakes, an uncertain tremor lying beneath what we're rebuilding, and he grips my chin. Sehun closes his eyes, lowers his lips, and I meet him in the middle. It's tentative, this kiss, like the first breezes of a storm that convince you their clouds won't break.

It's naïve to think we can fix chasms with kisses but him and I have always been too willing to play pretend. This is how we seal bleeding wounds: start with a caress, let it spiral into desperation as we try to prove something. It's monstrous and selfish and we can't help the way our kisses turn greedy, impatient with need.

I wrap my arms around his neck, let him guide us toward the bed. A trail of clothes follows us as we convince ourselves this is enough, that we can deal with the consequences later. He lowers us onto the bed sheets, finds purchase kneeling between my legs. His hands run up and down my sides and his lips press gently against my neck, my collar bone, my breasts, my hips-

"I kissed Chanyeol." The guilt forces the words out of my mouth and he freezes. This isn't like before. It's not a challenge-- it's a confession. He looks up at me through thick eye lashes and I see it, the way the hurt flashes like lighting before he can help it.

"It didn't mean anything," I try and stop the bleeding. "But I need you to know."

His nod is stiff and I take a deep breath, pull him back towards me. I kiss him, soft and sweet. I'm venturing for his forgiveness, hoping to elude the change in his intentions.

Touch. Feel. Break.

His touches turn harsher. He licks into my mouth and his nails dig into the soft flesh of my thighs. He kisses my neck and I whimper as his teeth scrape against the skin, brash and angry. I want to find him again, want to lead him back to the tentative promise that we could build something lasting.

He tugs me down further, grinds his clothed bulge against me, presses me into the mattress. He's gripping my hips, the pads of his fingers forcing bruises onto my body. I try to lessen his hold and he bites my lip.

"S-Stop. Stop." I push at his chest and scramble away from him. The tears well in my eyes and everything feels cold. I don't recognize him anymore, can barely meet his accusing stare.

"I'm not gonna do this with you. N-not like this." My voice is shaking, the words weighed by the lump in my throat. I wrap my arms around myself. How awful it is that this love cannot keep me in one piece.

"I'm sorry I'm not as good as Cha-"

"Don't." The word breaks. The tears are too real, burning, reminding the both of us that we do not know how to love without hurting. I tug my shirt over my shoulders. I meet his eyes and everything falls apart because I realize he won't apologize. I see he'll never admit it to himself. All he's ever done is loved me in fits of anger, loved me out of jealousy, loved me because a possibility existed that someone else would if he didn't.

"Be upset." I choke out. "But I'm not gonna let you use me."

He stands up and his eyes narrow. "Use you?"

I flinch as he steps toward me. This is who we are; resentful, reproachful, we'll leave casualties and never own up to them.

"You're a child playing with a discarded toy so you won't have to share," I let the blame push us further away. It'll be easier to hate him. It'll make it easier to forget.

"You don't believe that," He hisses. The truth hurts, and I'm struggling to breathe. His love is harsh; it burns, scalds away memories of late nights and early mornings, of laughter in new cities, of sleepy car rides in old ones. We spent so much time at each other's side, leaning on one another, helping each other stay afloat. Slash and burn-- the things we shared will not survive this. I've spent too much time pretending I could numb myself to the pain.

This moment is going to fail us. War is crashing towards our doorstep and we will run headfirst into it. Nothing has ever felt so dire, so finalizing, and all we can do is gaze upon this cascading disaster. This is how things fall apart, in a dim hotel room as we stand on the remnants of apologies and envy.

I turn to walk away, and his fingers curl around my wrist.

"I'm sorry." His words fill the space, grasping at the remains of broken promises, trying to tether us back together. "I'm sorry I can't love you the way you need me to."

"I'm sorry too," I whisper, gently tugging my hand out of his reach. There is nothing more to say, nothing else we can admit to. We are too proud to keep rebuilding, too weak to survive off scraps of love.

I drop his keycard at the entrance of his room and we both let the door click closed behind me.

Part 1 | Part 2

© Chogisad