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No one ever meant to make Sehun an afterthought.
But when Baekhyun was your older brother—Baekhyun, with the angel voice, the sparkling personality, always charming—it was inevitable.
Baekhyun was the son that his parents wanted and prayed for. Their mother called Sehun’s birth just over a year later an “unexpected gift,” but Sehun was old enough to know that statement meant that Sehun was a mistake. His parents would call him steady and reliable, but implied that his only future lay with boats and fish nets.
Sehun stumbled upon art supplies when they were cleaning out their grandmother’s house after she died. It wasn’t much—paints, a small collection of brushes, an unused canvas or two—but he didn’t tell anyone when he took them. He hauled them to the attic himself.
That’s when Sehun discovered his love for painting.
He collected imperfect but still usable canvases. He painted more than he slept, most days. He would paint their father’s boat, the beach when it as low tide. He would paint Baekhyun at the church piano, sometimes.
But inevitably, he would paint Chanyeol.
Chanyeol was Baekhyun’s best friend since childhood. He was around more often than he was at his own house, always orbiting around Baekhyun. This also meant that he would spend time in Sehun’s orbit, too. The people in town always joked that Chanyeol was already part of the family, that of course, in the future he and Baekhyun would get married.
Sehun knew this, but he would still spend his nights painting Chanyeol. His hands. His smile. The way his hair would ruffle in the sea breeze. He didn’t mean to fall in love with his older brother’s maybe fiancée. Even if the only way he could love him was on canvas.
It happened the summer after Sehun turned seventeen. He was sitting on the beach after doing his chores, a rare day of calm. He had his sketchbook in front of him and a pencil in his hand, determined to draw the exact way the waves hit the cliffside.
He startled when Chanyeol sat down next to him
“You know, you’re really good at that, Sehun. At art, I mean,” Chanyeol said kindly.
Sehun responded by closing his sketchbook.
They sat on the beach for a moment, listening to the tide, before Chanyeol spoke again.
“I don’t think I’ve ever asked but… What do you want to do?”
Sehun’s eyes snapped to Chanyeol’s face, “What?”
Chanyeol shrugged. “I mean, everyone knows what Baekhyun’s plans are, especially since he got into that conservatory. But what do you want to do?”
The question made something give in Sehun’s chest. He didn’t realize he was crying until Chanyeol looked startled.
“Shit—Sehun—I didn’t mean to upset you—”
Sehun shook his head, wiping his tears away. “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that before.”
Chanyeol looked at Sehun for a while, like he was really seeing. “Well,” he said softly, “I’m glad I did.”
Three days later, Chanyeol found Sehun in the unused shed, surrounded by art.
There were years' worth of art, tucked away like they didn't matter at all.
But they did. They did.
“I was wondering where you always disappeared to after dinner,” Chanyeol whispered, trailing his fingers on the edges of canvases. “But this--Sehun, these are incredible.”
And then his eyes found it.
A portrait of him, not smiling or laughing. Just quiet. Thoughtful. Looking somewhere just off frame. More lifelike than any picture he's taken.
His breath caught.
“Can I keep this one?” He asked, picking it up. “Its beautiful.”
Sehun nodded. There was a look in his eyes, but he turned away before Chanyeol could make sense of it.
That night, Chanyeol hung the painting up in his room. And realized that he never felt so seen.
The knock came just past midnight.
Chanyeol opened the door to find Sehun crying, his hands covered in burns and bandaging he clearly did himself. He fell into Chanyeol's arms and started to cry.
“My parents said no--to art school. Said that they couldn't afford for both me and Baekhyun to go to school. That Baekhyun was the one with the talent and the future--”
Sehun gasped through his tears. “I couldn't take it anymore. I was going--going to--to set the shed on fire with my paintings inside and walk into the ocean.”
Chanyeol's chest stuttered with the weight of what Sehun almost did, but he refused to let go.
“But you asked to keep one,” Sehun continued. “And I thought maybe--maybe that mattered. That someone wanted to keep a piece of me.”
“It matters,” Chanyeol said, voice shaking. “Of course it matters.”
Sehun sobbed, Chanyeol held on tighter.
“You asked me what I wanted,” Sehun said as he pulled away, tears still in his eyes. “I want to go to art school. I want to be free. I want to paint. Every day. Whatever I want.”
Sehun's eyes softened, looking at Chanyeol like he was a miracle. “I want you,” he admitted in a broken whisper.
Chanyeol placed his hands on Sehun's cheeks, holding the other boy tenderly as he wiped the tears away. “You can have it, all of it. You can have art school. And freedom. And a future. I'll help you any way I can.”
Sehun's eyes widened.
“And you can have me, too,” Chanyeol whispered, bringing their foreheads together. “When you're ready.”
Sehun brought their lips together in a kiss that was shaky, but earnest. Tender. Like a question, and Chanyeol was the answer.
“You saved me,” Sehun whispered as he pulled away.
Chanyeol shook his head, already leaning in for another kiss. “You saved yourself, you’re just letting me come along too.”