Work Text:
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
- Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
The door opens with a discreet creak.
“Sorry, I’m late,” a voice says and it’s quiet. But then, Sehun’s voice is always a little on the quiet side.
“Is everything, ok?” Jongin asks as he looks up from his sketch pad.
“Sure. I just got held up.” Sehun smiles but it’s stretched just a shade too tight across his face.
Sehun's been coming to his studio for three weeks now. Three sittings a week, one hour per sitting. Jongin’s gotten to know Oh Sehun pretty well, and he seems a little out of sync today.
Putting his sketch pad down, Jongin watches as Sehun walks over to the burgundy wingback chair by the large window and sits down. Sehun's movements are economical and graceful, pulling at something subtle in Jongin that he can't quite understand. Always pulling. Like a shadow or a secret his body is keeping from him.
“Are you sure you're okay?” Jongin asks as he makes his way over to the window and stops, two feet away from Sehun.
“I’m good.” That wan smile again, Jongin observes with growing concern. Then Sehun starts to undo the buttons on his navy blue shirt. This, too, is a departure from the usual because he always shows up in a t-shirt of some kind—sometimes with a slogan, sometimes not. He hates buttons, hates dealing with them. He’d told Jongin that on his fourth visit to the studio as he’d casually yanked off his loose, gray tee and flung it onto the nearby couch.
It's the first time Jongin has seen Sehun in anything with buttons (other than the single brass button on his jeans, not that Jongin notices his jeans or how they look on Sehun). It’s also the first time Jongin’s seen Sehun’s smile crumble around the edges. Both these things put together are about as far from Sehun’s habitual easy confidence as it’s possible to get, and Jongin can’t help feeling a prick of alarm.
Sehun’s expression is grim as he eases the dark cotton off of first his left shoulder, then his right. Jongin waits for him to fling the shirt like he usually does but instead, he drapes it over the arm of the chair in subdued motions. Jongin opens the small, mocha silk-covered box in his palm and carefully extricates a pearl earring from the velvet bed it had been lying on.
It’s a matched pair, of course. Two smoky gray pearls dangle from fine, silver lever backs. He only passes one earring to Sehun though, because they only need the one. But for once, Sehun doesn’t take It.
“I’ll need some help with this today,” he says and Jongin gives him a curious look because Sehun has always done this on his own.
“Are you sure you want me poking you in the ear with a sharp, metal object?”
“Yes,” Sehun chuckles weakly. “Don’t make it sound like you’re stabbing me with a murder weapon. It's just a tiny earring, Jongin.”
“I just want you to know that I’ve never done this before—”
“Never put an earring on for another person? I’m pretty sure most people haven’t done that.”
“No, I mean I’ve just never put earrings on, period. Never had any part of my body pierced.” Jongin shrugs, looking a little self-conscious and feeling more than a little uncool.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. So earrings aren’t really your thing?”
“Nah. I like earrings. I just don’t like needles,” Jongin gives a self-deprecating laugh and Sehun’s eyes fill with genuine mirth for the first time since he entered the studio. The butterflies in Jongin’s tummy wake up. They always do when Sehun smiles, like smiles for real—not like he’s been pretending to smile today.
“I would never have guessed that you had a phobia of needles.” Sehun’s voice is contemplative.
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“Neither, Jongin. I just meant. . .well, you seem so together is all. I mean, I know you’re three years older and you should technically be more together than me. But even when I’m twenty-five like you are now? I won’t be anywhere near as together as twenty-five year old you. Oh God, I’m not making sense. I’m sorry, Jongin. I didn’t get much sleep.”
Jongin should have figured that out himself from the translucent, bluish smudges on the pale skin beneath Sehun’s eyes. Sehun loves his sleep and tries to get at least seven hours a night. In fact, on his third visit to the studio, Sehun had told Jongin that if he didn’t get his requisite seven hours a night, he either got (a) semi-catatonic, or (b) terminally cranky. Either outcome was not ideal so Sehun tried his best to ensure he got the seven hours he needed.
Not last night though. Apparently.
They don’t talk hardly at all when Jongin is sketching or painting because it will disturb the lines of Sehun’s face and affect Jongin’s focus. But before and after the sitting, there’s always an exchange of words, ideas, laughter. What happens when the painting is finished? Will he get to see Sehun? Jongin doesn’t like to think about not having Sehun in his studio when this piece is done. He doesn’t like thinking about it at all.
“You told me once that seven hours’ sleep is mandatory.” It’s not exactly a question but. . .it kind of is. Jongin avoids Sehun’s eyes as his index fingertip strokes the surface of the smoky gray pearl in a nervous gesture.
“I—yeah. I usually need seven hours but last night wasn’t real conducive.” Now, it’s Sehun who’s avoiding Jongin’s eyes.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really. We should just get to work, I guess.”
“Yeah, I guess we should.”
“The um,” Sehun points at his earlobe and Jongin goes red at the embarrassing oversight. How could he have forgotten the earring? He takes a few steps closer. He’s so close now he can smell Sehun’s hair. It smells of the outside. The scent of traffic mingled with traces of caffeine and maybe lemongrass and sunshine.
It’s intoxicating being this close to him. There’s usually half a room of space between them, except when Jongin passes him the single pearl earring at the start of the session and collects it at the end, plus the few seconds when Jongin pays him for the sitting. There’s a safe kind of proximity in all these encounters. But this. . .this is nothing like the usual.
“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong, ok?” Jongin undoes the clasp on the earring and tries to maneuver the silver hook through the tiny hole in Sehun’s right earlobe. When his fingertips brush plush, warm skin, the butterfly wings begin to flutter again and Jongin can’t quite breathe. After a few seconds of apprehensive maneuvering, Jongin gets it to slide through Sehun’s skin and out the other side. He sighs with relief as he hears the clasp click into place.
“You’re doing just fine,” Sehun assures him as he brushes strands of dark hair from his forehead. And that’s when Jongin sees the network of fine, red cuts across his knuckles, the angry bruising. Is this why Jongin is the one putting the pearl eardrop on Sehun’s ear today instead of Sehun himself?
“What the hell happened?” Jongin blurts out.
“Ah. That was careless of me—to let you see.” Sehun’s voice is tinged with regret.
“We don’t have to do this today. I mean we can postpone so you can rest, Sehun. You could probably do with some rest.”
“I could definitely do with some rest but I’m here to work and that’s what I’ll do. I’m fine. I’m just struggling today with things that require fine motor skills.”
“Why did you wear a shirt with buttons then?”
“Never mind that, Jongin. Why don’t we get started? While the light’s good, you know?”
“How did you hurt your knuckles so bad?” Jongin can’t quite keep the distress out of his voice.
“That’s a long, ugly story I don’t really feel like getting into, to be honest.”
Jongin sighs. He wants to know, wants to understand; but he doesn’t want to pry so he lets it go.
“I’m ready.” And Sehun means it as Jongin looks up to find him already standing by the window, one outspread palm pressing against the glass, face pointing outwards in three-quarter profile. Jongin is never prepared for how broad Sehun’s bare shoulders are, how incredibly long his torso is. The butterflies start to stir, all featherlight in his belly, at the tranquility of his expression and the way his skin looks so milky pale, bathed as it is in the warmth of the late summer sunlight.
Sehun steals his breath away. Every single time. Jongin can’t even fathom how he’s managed to complete as much of his painting as he has. If Jongin is honest with himself, he never wants the painting to be finished. That way, Sehun can continue to come to his studio and they can continue to exchange words, ideas, laughter—
❦
Sehun’s hand slides down the glass in a jerky kind of movement and he utters a muffled damnit.
“You’re tired. Let’s stop.” Jongin puts down his palette and paintbrush. He doesn’t mind stopping. He’s too distracted by Sehun’s cuts and bruises to really put in the 200% he needs to do the painting justice.
“I just need a moment,” Sehun says stubbornly.
“Well I need more than a moment. I’m having trouble concentrating. The brush strokes aren’t coming out right.” And Jongin isn’t even lying because every time his eyes wander back to Sehun’s ravaged knuckles, his hands falter.
Exhaustion wins the battle against pride and Sehun agrees to stop, but only for a little while, Jongin. I’m here to work. Jongin more or less nods before he makes his way over to the window, grabbing Sehun’s shirt on the way. He’s never had to do this before but today seems like the kind of day for a whole array of firsts. He’s standing behind Sehun, holding the shirt up so Sehun can stick his arms into the sleeves.
Then, he sees it—sees the apple-sized bruise on Sehun’s left shoulder-blade. It’s a tangled knot of greenish, bluish, purpling skin.
Jongin’s voice is bordering on angry when he asks, “Who did this to you?”
“Long, ugly story. Remember?”
“Please?” It’s just one simple word and Jongin hopes it’s enough.
“I don’t really want to talk about it but. . .I dunno. Maybe talking about it will help stop the flashbacks.”
“Yeah. Maybe it will,” Jongin says softly as he helps Sehun into his navy blue button-down.
“My sister’s crazy ex came by last night. To my apartment, I mean. She’s been staying with me since she left him two weeks ago.”
“What the hell? Did he hurt your sister too?”
“He tried, I think? But he never got the chance to because I came out of my room just in time. I heard shouting and it didn’t sound like it was coming from the TV so I ran out. I think he was about to push her or. . .I dunno. Hit her or something.” Sehun’s eyes seem to shutter at the memory and his fingers fiddle uselessly with the top button of his shirt.
“But you got there in time,” Jongin says, voice quiet and reassuring as he gently moves Sehun’s trembling fingers out of the way and starts doing up the buttons.
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.” Sehun’s smile is hollow and something twists, deep in Jongin’s chest. “I’m just upset he showed up and scared her like that. She changed her phone number after she broke up with him a couple weeks ago. Then she moved out of my parents’ place and came to stay with me in the city. She never told him where I lived, you see. I guess she was hoping he wouldn’t be able to find her here.”
“How did he even get in?” Jongin’s fingers pause for a moment before doing up the rest of the buttons.
“Small town habits. My sis had always lived in a small town till she moved in with me. I kept reminding her not to open the front door without checking the peephole first. She’s been quite good about doing that but she must have been distracted last night. I dunno. I’m just glad I was home.”
Light is streaming through the glass pane, falling on the silver and smoky gray, making the earring shimmer. “Where is she now,” Jongin asks as he reaches up towards his ear. Sehun stays very still as Jongin removes the earring. He’s relieved to discover that it's a lot easier to take off than it had been to put on.
“Crashing with some friends in the city. We called the police last night so he’s locked up for seventy-two hours at least. She’s filed for a restraining order.” Sehun seems to deflate, now that he’s gotten the story out. The shoulders he’d been holding straight since he got here finally relax into a listless slump. He looks tired, so tired, and Jongin’s arms ache to hold him.
Words won’t help right now, Jongin knows this. So he closes his eyes and slides his arms around Sehun. It’s a tentative hug Sehun can easily get himself out of if it isn’t welcome. Holding his breath, Jongin waits for Sehun to shrug out of his arms, waits for him to step out of the embrace. He waits but it never happens. Sehun sighs and pulls him close, his forearm curled tightly around Jongin’s upper back.
For a while, they just stand there in each other’s arms. No words—just warmth and comfort chasing away the shadows.
“Thank you, Jongin,” Sehun says at last, but he seems content to stay in Jongin’s arms.
“I wish I knew what to say to make things better.” Jongin’s senses are full of faded lemongrass and sunshine and Sehun and he’s never felt so much before.
“You’ve already made things better.” Sehun says in a soft, sad voice before hugging him tighter. Jongin’s palms spread across Sehun’s back, soaking in the sweet weight of Sehun’s head on his shoulder.
“You can stay with me, you know. . .till this whole thing blows over. Till your apartment is safe, I mean. There’s a daybed in here you can use.” Jongin keeps it around for when he gets wrapped up in his work and he’s too exhausted to stumble his way back to his bedroom across the hall, or for naps in the daytime when he hasn’t slept enough the night before. But Sehun doesn’t need to know any of this.
“I. . .I’ll think about it.”
“You should sleep though, for now. Use the daybed.”
Sehun allows himself to be guided to the other end of the studio, but when he lays down on the pale gray upholstery, he doesn't let go of Jongin’s hand.
“I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Words have never come naturally to Jongin, so all he says is okay and then he’s getting onto the bed and Sehun’s arms are settling around his waist. They’ve never done this before but somehow, it feels right.
Jongin finds his eyelids getting heavier as he’s cocooned in the warmth of Sehun. The small, hot puffs of air against his nape and the soft, rhythmic sounds of Sehun sleeping are about as different from the usual as it’s possible to get but Jongin doesn’t mind.
He doesn't mind at all.