A Way Home

Dues

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2AM.

Sehun couldn't sleep. Softly rotating onto his side, he peered over at Namjoo, sound asleep and unbothered. Tucked securely beneath the blanket. Meaninglessly reaching over he fixated the blanket over her. Namjoo didn't budge.

The side of his face sunk into the pillow that smelled exactly like her. Wide awake he watched her dream. Pretty things. Happy things.

Reaching over again he air traced the slope of her nose to where it dipped down to her lips. Dropping his hand lightly between crevasse between their bodies he lay quietly.

Earlier during dinner preparation Namjoo had, more than once, looked at him with something in her eyes. Like she needed to pop a question but couldn't will herself to. Sending herself into a chronicle of silent conflict without having said a word.

Maybe it was work. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was her parents. He was guilty in that corner, but he didn't have the guts to say.

In the end saying nothing at all.

So very cowardly.

They had planned eagerly for tonight. Sehun had promised to put aside all problems, but even as they prepared for bed and made out the heat was not there. Namjoo was distracted. She couldn't want him the passion clouded way she frequently did. They crept in bed without making love. Without much talk. Trapped in their own bubbles. Miraculously, Namjoo managed to fall asleep and stay asleep.

He was sorry, wished he could say it. Meeting her parents was the least favorable thing he desired. Sehun didn't fear Kiwan. He didn't oppose the idea of Namjoo meeting his parents. Aware getting that out of the way soothed her wonders about his family and she'd have less to say in regards about them. He could still come out unscathed and appear like the regular successful man in her eyes.

But Namjoo's parents was a foreign sect he didn't want to approach.

Namjoo's parents were on a pedestal he was not yet ready to touch. He could not yet make that climb to shake their hands and talk smoothly about himself like with Kiwan. Namjoo's mom and dad...the sound of their names made him coil in fright.

What would a man like him be doing with their daughter?

Looking at Namjoo made his heart ache yet also wholesome.

Sehun did love her.

She was everything to him.

To lose her was as good as losing his life.

She was the sunshine. She was the rainbow after rain. She was the clear blue sky on a warm, sunny day.

Namjoo was his lifeline.

Because the first time he saw her, she radiated happiness like no other. So she was his special person.

To be allowed into her space was such a privilege he still had to wrap around his head.

He wanted to be good.

He wanted to be the perfect man for her.

He wanted it to stay like this forever.

Sehun couldn't close his eyes; turn away, try to sleep. As a last resort he drew his hands over his eyes creating an illusionary darkness. Telling himself Namjoo would still be there when he awoke, but the anxiety couldn't stop shaking through him try as he may.

Namjoo was gone at the first sunlight. The bedside empty. First sitting up with a jolt so fast his heart stampeded inside his chest. Seeking her bedroom for her. Blood rushed in his ears. Spinning round and round, beating his eardrums senseless. Sounding like angry waves slamming against windows.