foreign affairs (sehun)

nine

Sehun was wrong. I knew it, and Kai had proven it to me every single date we had been on. The weeks following the confrontation between Sehun and I were quiet. Sehun stopped coming out for dinner with the boys and I, my usual breakfast delivery stopped, and we basically cut off all communication.

It was his own fault, really. He knew how I felt about Kai, he had literally walked in on our date! If that wasn't enough to let him know that I was interested in Jongin, he was a lot more stupid than I thought. Even after he had seen us together, he had the nerve to be incredibly rude to Jongin, laying his hand on my back in front of him, calling him gross and childish, and generally harassing Kai when he hadn't done anything to him. 

Sehun was just an asshole, and that's all he'd ever be. Even Jongin said so.

So that's why I felt confident when I invited Jongin into my room a week later. I had gotten to know Kai much more then Sehun ever would. I liked him, trusted him. I remained confident the entire time, trusting in Kai and also trusting my gut.

The only thing I wasn't confident with was the concealer hack job I did to cover the trail of hickeys leading down my throat. 

I pulled Chanyeol's adidas hoodie higher on my neck, rubbing it awkwardly with my hand. I had done everything in the book last night; a cold spoon firmly pressed to it, toothpaste slathered onto it before bed, even popping aspirin like crazy and hoping the somehow it would made the purple hues fade. Nothing had worked; in fact, the red and blue tones seemed to glow even brighter this morning.

Even Loey had noticed when I broke in to nab his sweater, through sleep-laden eyes and the early morning mental fog. He wasn't surprised, had just shook his head and laughed at me, but it made me even more self-conscious. 

The elevator sprung open, tugging me from my thoughts much sooner than I was hoping it would. Quickly, I dropped my hands and strolled in, struggling to hold in the wince at the pain the steps were causing.

I leaned against the wall with a huff, dropping my bag onto the floor with a soft thud. Mondays never seemed to go well for me, I always woke up exhausted and irritable, and my activities the night before certainly hadn't helped. 

Kai certainly hadn't gone easy. The hickeys, soreness and bruises on my hips were a constant reminder of how dominating he was, not that I had minded. It was certainly memorable, sleeping with him. He was impressive.

"Tired, jagi?" I heard a growl in his tone. 

Why was he initiating a conversation, especially after all these silent weeks. "You could say that." I said questioningly, glancing at him form the corner of my eye.

But Sehun wasn't looking at me. He was staring at my hip, eyes dark.

And once I glanced down, I noticed that it shouldn't have been my neck I was worried about. With my hoodie riding up, I realized that you could see the distinct purple marks of Jongin's fingers bruised into my flesh.

"Hmph. I wonder why." Sehun said with a scoff, moving to crack his knuckles quickly. I could see the muscles in his jaw working, flexing quickly as he shook his head. "Hell, maybe you're sick?"

"Oh, come on Sehun." I asked, finally turning to face him. I dropped my bookbag, letting the straps slump to the floor as I crossed my arms. "Why do you care so much, am I not a fucking adult?"

Sehun laughed at that, licking his lips harshly. "I can't believe you, Chae. I thought you'd be smarter than his little games."

"Why can't you just leave this alone?" I asked, gesturing to my hip. "Ignore Kai and I, pretend we don't exist!"

Sehun shook his head. "I can't do that when you show up limping and bruised." He scoffed, glancing back at me quickly. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, a deep groan exiting his mouth, startling me. "Oh my God, are those hickeys?!"

My hand slapped to my neck, cheeks burning with vigour. "Who cares, Sehun!"

Sehun rolled his eyes, huffing harshly. "Just when you were starting to wear me down Chae, you had to go be an attention whore. Where does it end with you? Jesus, did you even try to cover those?!"

His words stung, as though he had ripped a band-aid off my chest. I felt my breathing become tight, shaking my head slightly. "No, come on. Trust me on this, Sehun, don't be a dick again."

"No, trust me." Sehun said with a scoff, adjusting his stance. Suddenly, the space between us felt impossibly wide, yet suffocatingly close. The walls were closing in on us, but I could tell Sehun was mentally halfway around the world. "He's going to screw you over."

I felt my hairs prickle at his words, stomach twisting into thousands of knots. "You don't know him like I do, Sehun." I protested, feeling the floor beneath my feet shudder. We had reached the reception, meaning soon enough those doors were going to slide open and Sehun would storm off, like he used to daily.

Just as I thought it, I heard the stiff creaking of doors opening.

To my surprise, Sehun didn't sprint out. In fact, he moved much slower than usual, lips pulled harshly between his teeth as he pondered his next move. He stopped in the doorframe, wide shoulders blocking me inside. He didn't turn to look at me, but I knew his words were intended to reach my ears. "You know what then, fine. Have fun with him Chae, but I don't want to see or hear about any of it."

With that, he left, like usual, avoiding some kind of conversation that we could come to an understanding. 

"So you're going to let this fuck everything up?!" I yelled after him, but the doors were already sliding shut. I felt my stomach churning, making me feel sick. All the progress we had made, finally becoming civil, being thrown into the fucking gutter. 

As soon as they closed, I have them a harsh kick, to the protest of my sore muscles. My legs burned, toes aching from the impact of steel, but I tried to block it out. "Fuck!" I groaned, grimacing against the pain. At this point, I couldn't care less about some stupid bruises and hickeys. I was just confused, torn between running after that stupid lanky fucker and coming to an understanding, or just letting him go for fucking good.

After only a moment of contemplation, I chose the latter.