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Jongin was his first.
Sehun awakens to the sound of a sharp rapping at the door to his bedroom chambers, still very much half-asleep as he tries to remember the wisps of his rapidly disappearing dream that seems determined to evade him.
“Coming. One moment.”
“Lord Sehun, a telegram has arrived—” The maid seems nervous, wringing her hands fretfully as she speaks, and Sehun waits impatiently for her to spit it out, his bed beckoning. “—it’s Jongin.”
It almost doesn’t register, until it does, and Sehun is suddenly swept away by a tide of emotion, a dizzying spell, his voice echoing in his own ears, feeling oddly detached from his body as he watches the concern etching itself into his maid’s features.
“Jongin?”
“Yes, Lord Sehun. He called ahead to say he’s returning.”
“Here?”
“Yes, in a matter of days…”
There’s more, but Sehun doesn’t hear any of it.
Sehun first meets Jongin at four years of age.
At a garden party hosted at Jongin’s family estate, a grand affair with the Kim’s having just settled in the countryside.
He had been painfully shy then, and looking back now, Sehun realizes that their mothers had conspired to make them friends, gradually pushing them together. In hindsight, Sehun doesn’t know whether to be grateful.
Their first meeting had started off disastrous.
His memory isn’t perfect, but he distinctly remembers bursting into tears, courtesy of Jongin. Though Jongin claims to not remember that part at all, pouting in mock outrage every time Sehun tells the tale in university.
What they do agree on though is the aftermath, pretending to have a real tea party like the adults but instead playing make believe, setting up an Alice in Wonderland escape after they spot a white rabbit hiding amongst the bushes, trying to catch it.
They had given the rabbit a name even though they never came close to finding Suho again.
“Lord Sehun, the gardener is requesting some of your time to discuss how you would like the grounds to look for the upcoming nuptials.”
Sehun rubs at his temples, trying to convince himself that he can hold off his brewing headache. He had never really gotten used to the responsibilities of being a lord, the number of little details that he’s expected to manage on a day-to-day basis. Seemingly inconsequential details that the estate requires.
“There is also the matter of whether you would like to go ahead and collect taxes on the usual first of the month.” A hesitant pause. “The harvest this year has not been as fruitful, and there are many families who may not be able to pay their tithe.”
At least some decisions are easy.
“Delay collection until after winter at the earliest. We have no method to predict how harsh this year will be, and we want our people to be well taken care of first.”
“Very well, Lord Sehun.”
Now for the garden.
Sehun groans, bemoaning his generosity in agreeing to host Junmyeon’s wedding.
When was the last time you’ve had a celebration at your estate?
Does it matter?
To some it does.
You know I don’t care what everyone thinks of me.
But I do. Please, Sehun.
He had given in after some needling, unable to resist the request of one of his oldest friends.
It’ll be a happy occasion.
Sehun hopes so.
Sehun remembers the exact moment he had envisioned marriage for the first time.
He had only been seven or eight, and Jongin had pulled him into the world of make-believe, wanting to pretend for the afternoon. Embarrassingly enough, Jongin had convinced him to dress up, and they had dug through his parent’s things in the old storage room.
The suit coat had been far too big, the sleeves floppy and covering his hands. Jongin had looked equally ridiculous, the tie knotted loosely and messily around his neck. And Jongin had insisted on flowers, gathering a bunch from the garden for a makeshift bouquet.
They had tramped out to the garden where Jongin declared Chanyeol as pastor to their ceremony. Chanyeol had rolled his eyes and huffed, but his older brother had played along anyways, marrying them off.
It was a hot sweltering summer day, and Sehun spent the whole time hoping that Jongin couldn’t feel how sweaty his palms were.
The touch startles him.
Sehun curses, trying to salvage what he had been writing, the inkpot going wayward with a sudden sweep of his arm, the black ink quickly running over his desk.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
Sehun feels the ink seeping slowly into his sleeve as he stares, unable to tear his eyes away for fear of waking up from an improbable dream. Jongin looks a bit gaunter, as if he’s lost weight, the sharp angle of his jaw more pronounced, cheekbones slightly hollowed, and Sehun can visibly see the faint outline of bags underneath Jongin’s eyes.
Jongin smiles.
“Your butler said I could come in.”
The smile is the same.
And for a moment, Sehun feels immeasurably young and in love.
Sehun clears his throat.
“I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon.”
He tries to hide his nervousness, gathering his papers into a pile for something to do with his hands.
“I thought you’d return next week.”
“There was a change of plans. Junmyeon sent word and asked me to come earlier to help with the wedding.”
Sehun holds his breath as Jongin gives him a teasing look.
“He said you were drowning and might need a hand.”
“That’s not true.” Sehun protests, trying to ward off Jongin’s skeptical look, the heat rising in his cheeks. “Not entirely true.”
He pauses.
“You know how Junmyeon is, everything has to be perfect.” Sehun waves his arms widely in the air to illustrate. “And grand.”
Jongin laughs, and Sehun sputters as he feels the light flick across his forehead, chest clenching uncomfortably at the following quip.
“Oh Sehun, ever the anti-romantic, as usual.”
Jongin had always been the romantic one.
Sehun rolled his eyes when Jongin would fall for another suitor, drawn in by sweetened but empty promises, one to fall hard and fast, giving his all until the very last moment of inevitable heartbreak.
The worst had been one of the lords a few years older than them, by all means well-respected, a close acquaintance of Chanyeol’s, frequenting many of the same parties that their own circle of friends attended. A few months of supposedly true love, crushed in minutes by the realization that he had been bedding another behind Jongin’s back.
Sehun wished he could have spared Jongin the sight of it.
A few of them had gone together to rough him up, and Chanyeol had ensured that the asshole was banned from every gentleman’s club and blocked from receiving invites to many of the largest social gatherings.
Even then, Jongin had been inconsolable for months.
And somehow Jongin still insisted Sehun should believe in love.
While drunkenly crying on Sehun’s shoulder, big heaving sobs, bemoaning his bad luck in relationships, nose rubbed red and raw, eyes puffy and swollen, tears drying tracks over his cheeks.
Beautiful, nonetheless.
Leaving Sehun aching.
“Sehun!”
He staggers as Junmyeon envelops him in a bounding hug from behind, the unexpectedness trailed faithfully by Minseok, the very picture of calm.
“Let him breathe, Junmyeon.”
Minseok’s voice is fond even though his words are sharp, and Junmyeon begrudgingly lets go of Sehun.
“I haven’t seen little Sehun in forever.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to bother him after we get settled in our rooms.” Minseok smiles at Sehun ruefully. “Our trip was quite a bit more tiring than I expected. Do you mind if we take a rest and perhaps clean up first?”
“I’ll have the maid draw you two a bath.”
Minseok nods gratefully, ushering Junmyeon towards the staircase.
“Down the hall and to the right.”
He can hear Junmyeon’s laugh even as they disappear out of sight.
Sehun contemplates what to do about his guest in the room to the left.
Sehun had been skeptical.
That Jongin, of all people, wanted to introduce him to someone, insisting that they would be a perfect match. Jongin’s insistence had amused Sehun, reminding him of the looming marriage propositions from his parents, sure to come soon after they finished with Chanyeol.
But Jongin’s excitement had been invigorating, and Sehun had let himself be wrapped up in it, the idea of finding someone.
It hadn’t gone particularly well.
She had been nice enough, most of their conversation being pleasantries and simple-minded talk. He hadn’t felt anything, not when first seeing her nor when she had shyly slipped her hand in his. Sehun had spent their entire stroll with his mind wandering elsewhere, later guilt-ridden for not giving her a real chance.
And he had spent the following week obsessively thinking about what Jongin had seen to suggest they’d be a match.
And the week after trying to convince himself that Jongin was right, that he would be able to eventually find someone.
Someone other than Jongin.
“You’re awake.”
Sehun pretends he isn’t affected, hearing the sound of Junmyeon’s chair scraping against the floor as Junmyeon rises to greet Jongin, lifting his gaze slowly. Jongin is still not quite dressed yet, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, and Sehun resists the urge to stare at Jongin’s exposed chest.
Junmyeon is already launching into details about what he wants and ways Jongin and Sehun can help, the list of things to do quite impressive.
He tries instead to focus on eating his breakfast, listening to Junmyeon chatter on in the background.
“Good morning, Sehun.”
He wants to believe that Jongin picks the seat next to him on purpose, plenty of other places at the dining table, though he supposes that it would be odd to sit any further away towards the other end where Junmyeon and Minseok are preoccupied in their own world.
Sehun tries to return Jongin’s greeting and drink his coffee without spilling all at the same time, feeling overly clumsy in Jongin’s presence. And he’s about to unclench his jaw tightened with nerves to properly speak and ask Jongin all the questions he wants, when his butler interrupts.
“Master Kim? What would you like to have to drink?”
“Coffee, with a teaspoon of sugar, and froth the milk on top.”
The familiar preparation slips off his tongue easily.
“You remembered.”
Jongin is looking at him with fondness and a hint of surprise, an eyebrow almost imperceptibly quirked, lips parted in a playful pout.
The heat starts at his neck, and Sehun hopes the flush doesn’t make its way up to his cheeks, turning away to cough in his napkin to hide his face.
“I did.”
Of course he does.
He remembers everything so clearly.
There had been rain, a downpour in the morning before the funeral.
Down to the last minute, until there wasn’t, and everyone had trudged to the service in their somber and newly ironed clothes and squeaky clean shoes to be covered in mud, the grass still damp, sky overcast and grey.
He doesn’t quite remember the exact details of the eulogy during the funeral or even giving it, but he must have because he was supposed to. Just remembers staring at Jongin sitting in the front next to his mom, trying not to choke on his own tears.
It was afterwards that Jongin told him he was leaving.
Leaving him with plenty of reassurances that Sehun would be strong enough to make it through, much stronger than himself, Jongin had said. But with no promises of returning. Jongin had spent the night with him in his room, in his bed, holding Sehun close, no more tears left, spent and exhausted.
The morning after, Jongin was gone.
There had been one night.
When Sehun had almost told Jongin he loved him.
“Are you sure you can reach?”
Jongin is stretched to his full height, fingertips brushing at the upper reaches of the tent, clumsily trying to secure the string of lights, perched precariously on the ladder.
“I’ll go get some help. Or ask someone to find a taller ladder.”
“It’s fine.” Jongin insists. “I can manage.”
Sehun gives a little sigh of relief when Jongin crows triumphantly, finally pinning the end properly in place, turning to grin at Sehun.
His smile widening.
An ‘o’ of surprise.
Sehun lunges forward reflexively, grunting at the heaviness that hits him, not quite coordinated enough to stay upright, and he feels the wind being knocked out of him when he hits the ground.
“Sehun? Sehun?”
He blinks rapidly to clear his head, Jongin’s concerned face swimming into focus, the relief breaking out when he nods.
“Just give me a second.”
Sehun feels a flush of embarrassment as his voice cracks, only compounded by the fact that Jongin is still sprawled on top of him, the warmth of Jongin in his arms, his hand still grazing at the small of Jongin’s back.
He excuses himself quickly under the pretense of finding them some refreshments,
Hoping Jongin hadn’t noticed the pounding in his chest.
Sehun feels his drink starting to hit him.
Junmyeon is in the middle of an elaborate story detailing how Minseok and him had first met, how it was love at first sight, how hellbent he was on making Minseok his, as Minseok leans into his side fondly.
While Jongin looks on, enraptured.
Sehun downs more of his drink.
“I’m so happy for you two.”
Jongin sighs happily.
“It’s such a happy occasion. To be able to celebrate meeting the love of your life.”
Sehun doesn’t miss the tinge of envy in Jongin’s voice.
He curses underneath his breath when he picks up his glass and finds it empty. There’s a headache brewing, he can feel it at the base of his neck. But he’s not drunk enough for this, not for all the talk about weddings and love, not even when it’s Junmyeon and his dearest friend’s happiness.
Not when Jongin is there in the room.
And he can feel the bitter taste of ugly jealousy burning his throat.
“What about you, Sehun? Have you been seeing anyone recently?”
Minseok looks at him kindly with a gentle curiosity.
Junmyeon laughs.
“I’d be surprised. Sehun barely even dated university.”
“No. No one.”
Sehun’s words come out far too curt and clipped for his liking, and he instantly softens.
“I don’t think a love like that exists. Not for me at least.”
He’s too much of a coward to look in Jongin’s direction.
“You’re so heavy.”
The complaint makes him laugh, and Sehun wobbles, his weight shifting even more, arm slung over Jongin’s shoulder as they slowly make their way up the stairs.
He really hadn’t meant to drink so much.
But two steps in, and Jongin had offered to help lead him to his room for his own safety, alarmed at Sehun almost falling over when trying to stand too fast, the dizziness going straight to his head.
“Are you saying I’ve gained weight?”
It’s meant to be a joke.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve met.”
Jongin pauses.
“You haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you.”
You’re still the same person I fell in love with, Sehun wants to say.
He holds his tongue.
“Almost there.”
Jongin awkwardly opens the door to his bedroom, struggling with his one free hand, and Sehun stumbles ungracefully the last few steps to his bed, gratefully sinking into his sheets, his head pounding from the effort.
“You shouldn’t have drank so much before the ceremony. There’ll be even more drinking tomorrow. And you’re doing the toast.”
Sehun groans.
“I nearly forgot.”
Sehun can barely make out the shadow of Jongin’s face in the dark. Jongin leans down to tuck him in, tugging at his blankets, and Sehun catches a glimpse of half his face, the moonlight streaming in from his window illuminating Jongin’s cheekbones, the slight curve of his lips.
He can’t help himself.
Sehun brings up one hand to cradle Jongin’s face, cupping Jongin’s jaw, feeling Jongin tense at his touch, gasping.
Beautiful.
He’s not so sure he’s said it out loud.
But Jongin reacts anyway, eyes widening slightly.
“Sehun—”
It’s the alcohol, Sehun lies to himself.
Not that he’s still in love with Jongin.
Not after all this time.
Sehun pulls him closer, hand at the back of his neck, fingers curling in Jongin’s hair as he kisses him greedily, growling when Jongin moans into his mouth, the thrum sending a stab of heated need through him, leaving him room to lick his way into Jongin’s pliant mouth, the press of his thigh between Jongin’s legs, the transparency of Jongin’s arousal, making him burn with want.
Just once.
He wants to know what it feels like.
“—wait.”
Jongin is so ethereal.
Sehun reaches up to stroke Jongin’s cheek.
“We can’t.”
Sehun feels his chest tighten at the sound of Jongin’s voice, throaty and choked, and it’s only then he realizes his palm is wet, the tears gathering at the corners of Jongin’s eyes.
We can.
“You remind me of him.”
The tender brush of Jongin’s lips against his forehead, apologetic.
“I can’t.”
But I love you.
“I’m sorry, Sehun.”
And then Jongin is gone.
And I’m sure you could grow to love me too.
“Congratulations to Junmyeon and Minseok.”
Sehun raises his glass of champagne to toast his friends before sitting back down, slouching into his seat as the music starts playing, the sweet opening refrain from the band as Jongdae starts singing, Junmyeon and Minseok slipping onto the dance floor for their first dance.
He had woken up with the worst hangover, spending the entire morning and afternoon rushing around personally ensuring all the preparations were ready for the ceremony, not having even a spare moment to his own thoughts.
There had been a light morning rain, and Sehun had spent the better part of an hour calming Junmyeon down, praying that it would clear in time. The ceremony had opened to a beautiful blue sky, all their guests in place, to the sound of the string quartet. Junmyeon had cried first, with Minseok following soon after.
Sehun had managed to make it through the entire ceremony without shedding a tear, barely holding himself together, his heart swelling with an overwhelming happiness.
“They’re perfect, aren’t they?”
He doesn’t notice Jongin sliding into the seat next to him.
“They really are.”
The lump forms in his throat as he glances at Jongin staring wistfully at Junmyeon and Minseok turning in slow circles.
“Maybe one day for you.”
Sehun snorts, swirling his glass.
“I doubt it.”
“Ever the anti-romantic.”
There’s only ever really been one person he’s been a romantic for.
Sehun feels the tears welling up suddenly and finally lets himself cry.
It was a beautiful wedding.
They had been drinking to pass the time, Sehun letting Jongin drown his sorrows about his terrible ex-boyfriend, listening to Jongin complain about how no one would ever love him again, the drunken slip of a long-hidden confession poised on the tip of his tongue.
Only to be tucked away quietly when Sehun had followed Jongin down to the kitchen and glimpsed Jongin with Chanyeol, the two of them chatting quietly in the dark.
Three weeks later, they were together.
“I’m leaving now, Sehun.”
Sehun looks up from his desk to see Jongin at the door to his office, uncertainty written across his face, offering him a hesitant smile.
Are you coming back?
“When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
The truth stings.
“There’s too much here that reminds me of him.”
You remind me of him.
What Jongin really wants to say.
Sehun wonders if it makes him a bad person to feel bitter at his brother for passing and leaving him with everything, the mansion, lands, title, and responsibilities, yet nothing all at once.
Carved hollow with the knowledge that no matter what he does or how much he tries to change it—
“Maybe next spring. When it starts getting warm again.”
“I’d like that.”
Sehun lies through his teeth, the bitterness over his tongue.
That Jongin was his, first.