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Sehun unconsciously associates people he knows with colors. It doesn’t really hinder him, but it does make him curious as to when this slightly peculiar habit started. For example, his childhood friend, Junmyeon, who was currently in his first year of college, always reminded him of the walls of his bedroom.
Sehun’s bedroom walls are painted green.
Persian green, his mother once fussed him. It’s not just green, sweetheart. It’s Persian green.
He was 10 back then, and his mother thought that he was already a big boy, so his mother gave him the liberty to pick the color of his bedroom on his own. He told his mom he wanted green and in return, his mom gave him a big sheet with different shades of green. He had never seen so many shades of green before, and it made him dizzy.
Sehun picked the Persian green because it looked cool and calming, just like Junmyeon’s voice whenever Sehun cried to him because the other big mean boys bullied him and. He wanted his bedroom to be like his Junmyeon-hyung, who always carried this peaceful and comfortable air around him.
When Sehun first moved into the neighborhood, Junmyeon was the only older boy who was nice enough to ask Sehun to play with the other kids. Back then, Sehun was smaller and shorter than Junmyeon. Their friendship started off with a warm, bright summer's sun, “Hello, I am Junmyeon!” from Junmyeon and an awkward smile from Sehun. Sehun had just lost his first baby tooth so he couldn’t smile as brightly as Junmyeon did back then.
“Mom, I want this green!” Sehun had told his mom, grinning cheerfully.
+++
In elementary school, Sehun met Zitao. Zitao’s family had just moved to Seoul from Qingdao because of his father’s job. Zitao, a lanky boy with a scary glare, was still struggling with Korean. Sehun wanted to help but the Chinese boy kept pushing him away, his cheeks flushed and tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Junmyeon-hyung had said that everything probably still too much for him to take in.
“C-can.. Can I sit with you?”
It was lunch break on Wednesday, Sehun remembered clearly, the first time Zitao talked to him. Sehun flashes the boy a toothy smile.
“Sure!”
Their first conversation was slow and most of it was Sehun teaching Zitao Korean, but he didn’t mind because Zitao smiled. And despite Zitao’s sharp glare, he had the most beautiful smile Sehun had ever seen. From that particular lunch break, their friendship bloomed.
Zitao was Ivory to Sehun. Just like an actual ivory, tough and unyielding, there was always an air of softness and innocence about him.
+++
Sehun’s first spring came in his second year in middle school. It was a girl with long, inky black hair, skin was luminous pink and white of seashells, with a pair of bright eyes and a dashing smile. Her name was Yoo Ara.
Sehun’s cheeks were always dusted with pink whenever Ara smiled at him. She was a popular girl, smart, and pretty. He heard boys in his class talk about her, talking about how pretty and smart she was and about how they wanted to be on her side.
Sehun never really swooned like those boys. He preferred to keep his fondness to himself. Zitao, on the other hand, remained uninterested. He had a crush on Jia nuna—an older girl Sehun had never met before. Even so, Zitao acknowledged that Yoo Ara was pretty, but “not as pretty as Jia nuna.”
Yoo Ara reminded Sehun of the color of those pretty pink carnations he saw in a florist shop he always walked past on a daily basis on his way home from school. Both of them were eye-catching and pretty, he never got bored staring at those carnations and Ara.
Sehun gave Ara a spray of pink carnation and confessed to her at the end of the semester.
“Sorry, Sehun-ssi, I like someone else,” Ara answered, her gaze looked guilty and her hands clasped in front of her tightly. She looked very, very flabbergasted, yet extremely guilty.
He didn’t want to see those pretty pink carnations for the next six months after that.
+++
Zitao finds out about Sehun’s tendency in the beginning of the semester of their last year in middle school. It was because of this friend of Junmyeon hyung, Junho, that reminded him of the color black. Sehun kept rambling about how Junho reminded him of black; calm but intense at the same time, modest but arrogant.
“Hey, Sehun, do you always do this?”
“Do what?”
“Associating people with colors?”
“I don’t do it on purpose. It just happens.”
Zitao nodded, looking pensive. “Cool.”
“You don’t think it’s weird?”
“Do you think it’s weird?”
Sehun shook his head.
“Then it’s not weird,” Zitao replied coolly.
Sehun smiled and continued to eat his lunch.
“Hey, what color am I?” Zitao inquired, his face is serious.
Sehun stared at his best friend’s serious façade for a while before breaking out into laughter. Zitao’s cheeks flushed and he decided to put the matter down.
+++
In their year in middle school, a new student transferred to Sehun’s class. It was an odd event because it was the middle of the year and the high school entrance exam was closing on them. The transferred student’s name was Kim Jongin.
Kim Jongin was quiet–too quiet. He only responded to Sehun’s questions with unbelievably short answers. Sehun had asked him some bizarre questions (but not to the point they were offensive) just to make Jongin said more than two sentences. Not only ridiculously quiet, Jongin is also studious.
After three months, Jongin’s cold behavior invited low whispers of bad words from the other students. They thought that Jongin was a snob because he didn’t talk to anyone and he didn’t even try to participate in class events. Sehun, on the other hand, believed that Jongin was anything but a snob.
“Don’t you think that Jongin kid is awfully quiet?” Sehun asked Zitao.
“Well, he’s probably coping up with stuff, you know? I know how it feels to be in a new school.” Zitao patted Sehun’s shoulder.
Jongin reminds him of honey, especially his skin. Jongin’s skin was golden and glistened under the right light. Yes, that was a compliment in Sehun’s head.
Golden.
Jongin, in Sehun’s eyes, was golden.
+++
They all graduated from middle school and somehow Sehun managed to get himself closer to Jongin. Sehun was right–Jongin was anything but a snob. He was just misunderstood, he was shy, that was why he was quiet. He had to transfer because of his parents’ divorce so he had a lot on his plate back then.
Sehun, Zitao, and Jongin enrolled into the same high school.
That time, Jongin’s smile reminded him of the whipped cream on his favorite cake. It was weightless, soft, and sweet.
Maybe, just maybe, cream was the right color for Jongin.
+++
“Hey,”
Sehun struggled with his groceries while clipping his cell phone between his ear and his shoulder.
“Sehun, you’re there?”
The pale boy managed to open the door and carried all the groceries within one trip. He tittered to the kitchen and settled all the groceries on the kitchen counter, completely ignoring his mother’s protests about heavy stuff and his back. Once he plopped himself onto the couch, he let out a long, triumphant sigh.
His shoulders sagged, making the phone slide down to the couch.
“Uh, I’ll call you again, later,”
“Wait, no! I’m here!” Sehun half-yelled.
He quickly picked up the phone and began to hold the phone.
“Hey, what’s up? I just got home from grocery shopping,”
“Can I crash at your place?”
Twenty minutes later, Jongin showed up at Sehun’s doorstep carrying a backpack. Sehun let him in without saying anything. Jongin once told Sehun that he loved their sleepovers, especially when it took place at Sehun’s house. Unlimited snacks, top notch WiFi speed, and…
“Hey, Jongin!” Mrs. Oh greets him merrily.
Sehun’s mother.
Jongin liked Sehun’s mother, especially her homemade cookies and her kimchi stew. Aside from her amazing dishes, she always had this homely aura that Jongin always longed for and his mother lacked of. Deep down, Jongin understood that comparing his own mother with his best friend’s mother was immature, but he simply couldn’t help it.
“I was just about to prepare dinner. Would you be us?”
“Actually, Mrs. Oh.. I am kind of crashing tonight.. I hope you don’t mind,” Jongin grinned sheepishly.
To Sehun, his mom was overbearing, loved to fuss over him a little too much but, he knew that Jongin didn’t see his mom as those things. Sehun couldn’t quite put it into words but it just seemed like his mom just took Sehun in so easily. She always doted all of his friends and indulged them a little too much.
And yet, she was still so strict when it came to him.
“Sehun’s dad will be home soon. Help me to set up the tables, boys,” she added cheerily.
After a hearty dinner and a bite of cookie, Sehun and Jongin were now lying on Sehun’s bed—his bed was big enough for three people as long as all of them are as lanky as Sehun. They weren’t talking, both of them just stared and stared at the ceiling. Sehun stole a glance at Jongin who looked serene despite the silence.
“So, are we gonna talk about how fascinating my ceiling is?” Sehun began.
“My mother’s new boyfriend is coming for dinner,” Jongin answered, his tone was bitter.
Sehun pursed his lips tightly, afraid that he’d say something wrong. After the divorce, Mrs. Kim won custody. His parents’ relationship hadn’t been that good from the start since it had been an arranged marriage for the two families’ business.
That fact always made Jongin think that he was not wanted and not loved. Never been wanted and never been loved. Jongin still saw his father every now and then, but it was strained. His father seemed colder and more distant with him after the divorce.
"He's nice enough, I guess," Jongin continued.
"But she didn't even ask me. She doesn't even look at me when they arrive anymore, like she thinks I'll go away or something. Like she wants me to go away or something." Jongin trailed off.
Sehun waited. When Jongin continued, his voice was partially muffled and he said each word slowly, cautiously, as if he’s measuring his own worth against those words..
“I know she doesn’t … love me very much. But, it’s … it’s so much easier to pretend when she doesn’t bring people home. Because, I--I mean … at least she notices me.”
“Hey,” Sehun carefully poked Jongin’s side.
“Hm?”
“You can crash at my place anytime.”
Jongin responded with a nod.
In the middle of the night, Sehun woke up to low, muffled sobs. Jongin was sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed, arms hugging his knees to his chest, shoulders raking violently trying to fight the noises he made, back facing Sehun. Sehun watched Jongin’s shoulder blades quiver, through his own sleepiness he felt as if he was watching a snippet of a dream.
In the muted half-light, Jongin looked broken. The darkness siphoned all signs of vitality from his skin, and Sehun was left with the fragile outline of a boy smaller than himself, alone and unwanted. He thought to himself, almost nonsensically, that all who were lost will end up found, and even the weariest river winds up safe at sea.
But Jongin was not yet found, and he had not found his home in the sea, and so Sehun crawled up behind him and wrapped his bony arms around Jongin’s shaking shoulders. Sehun hoped that he could comfort Jongin by providing him with silence.
Sehun did not understand the intricacies of adult relationships; he was just a child. So was Jongin. He didn’t get to choose to opt out. He was just there, trapped and tried so hard to untangle the complications with his own hands.
That night, Jongin whispered all of his fears, worries, and guilt. He was broken. That was why his parents failed to stay together. Jongin looked so broken and that night, he probably was. Broken things deserve love as much, because when something breaks, it means that there are more pieces to cherish and love.
That night, Jongin doesn’t suit the colors golden or cream anymore. He was the color of the muted half-light Sehun found him in, fragile and lost.
Ash gray. Jongin is ash gray.
+++
Jongin is a palette of different colors, Sehun finally deduced.
Sehun couldn’t simply associate one color to Jongin. When Jongin smiled, Sehun swore he could see golden rays of summer sunshine. When Jongin frowns, Sehun saw a blanket of gray clouding his entire being. Everytime Jongin made a different expression, Sehun saw a different color.
It was mildly frustrating for Sehun.
Unlike Baekhyun and Jongdae—they also couldn’t be associated with one color. They are the entire palette for bright, loud colors but, no matter what kind of expression they made, Baekhyun and Jongdae will always be bright and loud colors. Those two people couldn’t be linked to murky colors such as gray, charcoal, or midnight blue.
Sehun saw different colors on Jongin. Bright and loud colors, murky and sad colors, weightless and soft colors—everything.
And this had never happened before.
+++
“So, what color is Jongin?” Zitao inquired out of the blue.
Sehun turned his head to Zitao.
“You don’t have that habit anymore?”
Sehun wets his lips before answered, “I still do,”
“So, what color is he?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I don’t want to know mine,”
Sehun rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.
“So, what color is he?”
“I don’t know. He’s special, I guess. I see different colors on him,”
+++
Sehun was bothered because every time Jongin smiled at him, his stomach magically became crowded with tiny butterflies flapping their wings altogether. The only time he felt like this was when he liked Ara.
Jongin is his best friend. He shouldn’t feel this way.
He tried to stop himself but he couldn't.
+++
“Sehun, this is Soojung. Soojung, this is Sehun,”
Sehun had agreed to go on a date with Jongin’s childhood friend who was attending an all-girls high school. Sehun didn’t really mind since it was summer break and he didn’t have anything better to do.
“Hey, Soojung. Nice to meet you.” Sehun gave her a friendly smile.
Soojung was pretty and immediately reminded Sehun of pink. Pretty. Not like the carnation pink he saw when he liked Ara. Soojung is simply pink.
At the end of the date, Sehun and Soojung come to the same agreement.
They were not compatible with each other but he found a similarity with Soojung; both of them always unconsciously associate people with colors. Their ‘date’ was pretty much talking about pedestrians and associating colors to them. It was fun talking to Soojung, but he can’t see himself in a romantic relationship with Soojung.
“So, what color am I?” Sehun asked when he walked Soojung to the step of her door.
“You’re baby blue,” Soojung smiled. “What about me?”
“You’re pink to me.”
Soojung’s smile is pretty—then again, everything about Soojung is pretty—just like the color pink. Too bad Sehun was never really fond of pink; the color pink was pretty but just not for him.
+++
“How was the date with Soojung?” Jongin asked.
Both boys had just finished their soccer practice.
“She was nice, I guess. Not for me, though.” Sehun said.
“Oh, that’s too bad,”
“It’s not like she doesn’t feel the same for me,”
“Hmm,”
“What’s with the sudden question? Are you gonna ask me to be a wingman for you?”
Jongin’s lips curled into a thin smile and his gaze shifted to his feet. Sehun gulped slowly, Jongin had a crush on somebody.
“Who is she?” Sehun asked, elbow nudging Jongin’s ribs in a playful manner.
“I’ll tell you someday.” Jongin’s cheeks turned into a few different shades between puce and mauve; adorable but lethal at the same time.
Jongin looked painfully shy and ridiculously adorable when Sehun kept pestering him about the girl and it hurt Sehun even more. Crimson was the only color Sehun saw on Jongin that day. He felt hurt and jealous.
Probably more hurt than jealous.
+++
“Can I sleep over?” was what Zitao’s text said five minutes ago.
Sehun typed a reply and ten minutes after his reply was sent, Zitao was already in front of his doorstep. Since sixth grade, Zitao and Sehun would often sleep over at each other’s house. Lately, since school had gotten busy, they rarely did this routine.
“Let’s call Jongin too,” Zitao suggested after he puts down his backpack on Sehun’s bed.
“Jongin’s out of town with his father.”
Zitao nodded understandingly. After dinner, the two boys played video games until three in the morning. It was Zitao who was the first one to whine that his behind hurts from sitting too long and his eyes stung from staring at the television for too long. Sehun quietly agrees and turns off the console.
Sehun never minded sharing his bed with Zitao. They were friends and they had been doing this since sixth grade. They were just laying on Sehun’s bed while staring at the ceiling and Zitao was humming his favorite song softly.
“I confessed to her,”
Sehun raised his eyebrow and sat up, looking at Zitao. Zitao smiled sadly.
“She rejected, of course,” Zitao grieved.
Sehun blinked, not sure what to do.
“It’s okay though. I told her, I will confess to her again,”
“What if she is already with someone else?”
“I will still confess. I want her to know that I am that serious,” Zitao nodded, determination obvious in his tone.
Sehun snorted. Zitao landed a light punch on Sehun’s sides. Knowing Zitao, he would definitely confess again.
“How about you?” Zitao asked.
“What about me?” Sehun tilted his head in fake confusion.
“Any Ara 2.0?” Zitao snickered.
And of course, Sehun’s mind (and probably heart) inevitably pointed at none other than Kim Jongin. Sehun’s cheeks darkened a bit, he mentally hoped Zitao couldn't read minds.
Play it cool, Sehun.
“First of all, there will be no Ara 2.0, she is her own person.” Sehun frowned.
Oh Sehun you idiot.
“So there is someone,” Zitao smirked.
“Kind of, but..”
“But..?”
“She’s not a girl…”
“Oh.”
Sehun’s room fell silent for a brief moment. Zitao shifted and sat up, looking at Sehun. Sehun bit his lower lip nervously. Sehun had read a lot of stuff on the internet about what happened to teens who didn’t quite follow the heteronormative narrative.
“Do you think that’s weird?” Sehun whispered, eyes avoiding Zitao’s sharp ones.
“The question is, do you think it’s weird?” Zitao asked.
Sehun nodded slowly, “He’s my friend. Best friend, even.”
“Then it’s weird,” Zitao shrugged nonchalantly.
Sehun’s eyes widened. Zitao’s words stung and almost rendered him into an emotional breakdown. Sehun’s vision felt blurry and his heart was pounding in his ears. He clenched his fist tightly on the blanket.
“You are the one who thinks it’s weird but, for the record.. I don’t think it’s weird,”
Sehun’s punch landed on Zitao’s stomach, it was not enough to actually hurt but enough to squeeze out a breathless little wheeze from Zitao. Just when Zitao was about to protest, his protest died when Sehun launched himself to his direction, hugging his neck tightly, burying his face onto the crook of his neck and embarrassingly sobbed.
Zitao awkwardly rubbed his back until he quieted down.
+++
“You guys had a sleepover without me?” Jongin frowned, arms crossing in front of his chest.
“Hey, hey, hey, you’re the one who went out of town,” Zitao reminded him.
“But still..”
Zitao shrugged off whatever Jongin’s saying next and returned his attention to his unfinished homework. Jongin returned to his seat, which was in front of Zitao’s seat. He turned to Zitao and watched him slaving over his homework that he procrastinated.
“Hey, Zitao,” Jongin whispered..
“Yes, Jonginnie?” Zitao drew out lazily, but his attention was still on his homework.
“What do you do when you like someone?” Jongin asked.
Zitao’s head whipped up at Jongin. His eyes noticed the slight change on Jongin’s face—the boy blushed into different shades of red. Zitao, of course, couldn’t help but snort at his friend’s stupidity.
“I am not asking for your help,” Jongin declared petulantly, turning away from Zitao.
“Make a move, doofus,” Zitao answered simply.
Jongin gave Zitao a thoughtful look before nodding absentmindedly and applied himself on his own unfinished homework. Zitao stared at the back of Jongin’s head before letting out a quiet sigh. Sehun had to face another heartbreak, Zitao thought.
+++
Sehun already knew that Jongin was liking someone. That someone might or might not be him. Sehun decided it’s the latter. He let out a long sigh. Because of his stupid feelings, every time he spent time alone with Jongin he always felt suffocated, not to mention the fluttery feelings in his tummy and his chest.
Also, Jongin had been acting strangely lately. He became clingier with Sehun; getting him his favorite banana flavored milk from the convenience store without being asked to, smiling at him more, and overall sticking onto Sehun’s side even more.
This is stupid, Sehun thought to himself.
“Hey, wanna hang out at my place? Mom’s out of town and I want to introduce you to my children,” Jongin cheerily asked.
“Your children?”
“My puppies. So, wanna hang out?”
Sehun shook his head limply.
He couldn’t quite remember what it was about this time that made his chest especially hurt. He had a stupid crush on his best friend and his stupid heart felt as if it was going to burst with feelings if he had to look at Jongin’s stupid face.
“I’m going home.”
Jongin cocked a brow at Sehun’s answer. He stopped his steps and turned Sehun to face him. Jongin squinted his eyes, attempting to scrutinize his friend’s face. Jongin’s face looked ridiculous. Sehun’s face still flushed into weird shades between ruby and crimson. The distance between them was making his heart pounding against his ribcage—Jongin’s hands were gripping his shoulders tightly and his eyes were scrutinizing his face.
“Are you sick? You look so red.” Jongin hesitated.
“You are an idiot, Kim Jongin,” Sehun muttered under his breath.
“Wha—,”
“I can’t see a color on you,” Sehun gritted his teeth. Jongin’s jaw dropped, both in confusion and shock.
Sehun looks at Jongin's flabbergasted expression before muttering a sharp curse under his breath and turning away from him. That’s it, he had done it. He screwed things up. After what he said today, there was no way in heaven or hell Jongin still wanted to be friends with him. Sehun inhaled a deep breath before walking away from Jongin.
Jongin made a confused noise at Sehun’s retreating back.
“Sehun, wait! I don’t understand!” Jongin shouted after him.
“You don’t have to!”
Sehun quickened his pace when he heard Jongin’s steps behind him.
“Sehun, wait!”
Sehun didn’t even spare Jongin a backward glance and decided to run. He couldn’t just face Jongin like this. Jongin, who was several steps behind Sehun, decided to run as well. They might look like some boys fooling around by chasing each other to other people on the street. Sehun wished it was that simple.
Jongin failed to catch up, which was not very surprising since Sehun is the faster runner between both of them, but he knew that Sehun was heading towards a playground in the neighborhood. He decided to slow his steps and headed to the playground. His breath was heaving, his lungs were greedily sucking in air after a dash like that, he was never designed to run like that. Sehun made a mental note to kick Jongin in the shin for making him run like that.
He rests his palm on his chest in an attempt to calm his breath down (Zitao once said he looks very unattractive when he’s panting). He was slouching against the side of a dull blue slide, head resting against the board of the slide, sweat dotting his ruddy red face. He could see Jongin approached him from his peripheral vision and even after a run like that, Jongin still looked golden and untouchable.
Of course Jongin is pretty when he sweats, Sehun cursed.
“Hey,” Jongin wheezed out before plopping beside Sehun.
Sehun turned his face slightly towards his– no, Jongin, face flushed and covered with thin perspiration and shirt sticking to his torso like a second skin. They were practically sticking against each other, Sehun could feel Jongin’s body heat radiating off of him.
Sehun extended his arms and pushed Jongin away to get rid of the imposing proximity between them. Jongin flailed before landing on his side.
“What was that for?!” Jongin yelped.
“For imposing my personal bubble.” Sehun huffed out.
Jongin scooted away from Sehun, not caring even if his pants would have streaks of sand and dirt after this.
“You still have a lot of explaining to do,”
Sehun let out a defeated sigh; a long, exasperated, defeated sigh.
“You can’t cut me in the middle of my sentences.” Sehun said.
“Fine.”
Sehun’s eyes shifted nervously. He let go of his legs and changed his position to sit cross-legged. He looked at Jongin whose golden skin was bathed with the warm orange from the rays of sunset and looked absolutely gorgeous. Sehun mentally cursed his one-track mind because he just wanted to hold Jongin in his arms and maybe kissed him—
He had some explaining to do first.
“I have this habit of associating people with colors,” Sehun began and one of Jongin’s eyebrows quirked in an intrigued manner.
“Yeah, usually one person only has one color, like.. Chanyeol hyung resembles the vast sky on a sunny day in mid-summer, Soojung is pink, Junmyeon-hyung is Persian green, Junho-hyung is black…” Sehun trailed off and looked at Jongin once again.
Jongin is still wearing the same intrigued expression.
“But there are some special cases.. Like Baekhyun and Jongdae. They are bright, loud colors; red, orange, yellow, even neon colors.. They can’t be associated with one color. I think they are the entire bright, loud palettes but, they can’t be associated with dark colors like gray, blue… No matter what they do, they still look bright… and loud.” Sehun licked his lips.
“And Zitao is Ivory, in case you’re wondering,” he added.
Jongin remained quiet and Sehun grew nervous.
“Say something, you dumbass,” Sehun snarled.
“You said not to interrupt!” protested Jongin.
“I’m done explaining.”
“How am I supposed to know– ah, nevermind,” Jongin let out a sigh.
Jongin bit the inside of his cheeks. He looked unsure what to say or what to do or how to react in general. He never knew he would meet someone like Sehun. Soojung has the same habit and Jongin always thought that quirk was endearingly weird.
“You have the same habit as Soojung,” Jongin said, and he wanted to beat himself for saying that.
Sehun nodded.
“I see.. What color am I?” Jongin asked.
“That’s the problem! I see different colors on you! Sometimes you are golden, sometimes you are gray, sometimes you’re red, sometimes you’re fuchsia.. I am confused and.. And I’m just confused, every different expression you made, I see different colors. You are the whole palettes, I see blue, pink, purple, red, orange, yellow, gray—everything on you.. This never happened before.. And if that’s not weird enough, I think I have a crush on you! Like you see, in middle school, there’s this girl I have a crush on and my chest flutters whenever she smiles at me and my chest now flutters the same way whenever I see your smile.. Kim Jongin, you’re so stupid!” Sehun rambled.
Jongin blinked a few times, trying to comprehend what Sehun just blurted out.
“So…”
Sehun’s cheeks darkened even more.
“You like me?”
“Yes. Are you really going to make me say it again?!” Sehun hissed.
“What if I say I like you too?” Jongin countered.
“It’s not funny,” Sehun deadpanned.
“I’m not lying!”
Sehun saw nothing but sincerity in Jongin’s eyes and the way Jongin’s cheeks turned into 16 shades between crimson and ruby didn’t betray the sincerity Jongin’s eyes hold.
“I’m not lying..” Jongin repeated slowly, his eyes stern and fixed on Sehun.
Everything in Sehun’s head was a shipwreck. All he could think about was Jongin. Jongin. And more Jongin. His smile, his laugh, his warmth. Everything about Jongin and it was almost disturbing in a pleasant way. He no longer felt like he was going to explode, the secret he had held so close to his heart was slowly spilling through the gaps of his ribs. He still felt like he was holding the spilled secret in his hands.
“I like you,” Jongin declared. “I didn’t know how it started but I like you. That’s that,” he accentuated, one hand slowly reaching towards Sehun’s.
“Ugh, you idiot,” Sehun grunted but he opened his palm and laced his fingers with Jongin’s.
He looked at their conjoined hands. He wanted to think that now he had trusted his feelings with Jongin and–
“And because you like this idiot.. Sehun, would you go out with me?” Jongin grins crookedly.
Jongin had trusted him with his own feelings.
Jongin was beautiful. He took Sehun’s breath away, whisked him off of his feet, and made his world slightly off-kilter but more colorful. Sehun pursed his lips tightly, taking in the beauty in front of him; the crooked grin, the orange strips from sunset in his deep brown eyes, the strands of hair that plastered on his forehead, his stupid smile—
Kim Jongin was beautiful.
He could not wait to romance the shit out of his stupid best friend.
“Yes,” Sehun whispered.
“Awesome,” Jongin smiled and Sehun’s heart soared.
Sehun imagined bursts of colors blooming from Jongin; every color under the sun, slowly forming a color wheel around them. He was looking forward to the future, every possible minute would be spent together.
-end;