...
He wonders sometimes, why life had thrown him a curveball so erratic and volatile he ended up here. Alone and unwanted and exploited; a tool to be discarded once his usefulness ran its course. It was painful, it was frustrating, the dark swirl of anger and desperation taking root in his very core, coiling and coiling and-
"Saeran?"
He blinks, and the world focuses again.
Damp white sheets stare back at him as he looks down, and with another unfocused blink he forces himself to relax, clenched fingers loosening their grip on the taut fabric. Swallowing a dryness that betrayed the discomfort within his stomach he continues to unfold the wrinkled cloth. A pair of hands join him, flinging the sheet up and over the clothes line and tugging the corners open towards the sun.
"Saeran?" The voice says again, and despite the whisper in his conscience he looks up.
Warm, gentle rays of the November sun beats down over him as he shifts, sweater tucked neatly into his lanky stance as he catches the woman's eye. His palms turn clammy at the sight of her curious smile, and he responds with a barely-there dismissive shake of a head before turning back to his task, struggling to spread the heavy sheet apart.
His fingers fumble awkwardly with the heavy linens, and Saeran finds that the moment makes a rather good metaphor for how he feels stumbling into the graces of awkward normalcy of a life he was almost afraid won't last.
It will, assuring voices nip at the broken bud, but how much are promises worth from a brother he wasn't sure would stay? (He hadn't meant for that to happen, but all the same, he was abandoned.)
Everything. But still he refused to believe, would not let himself be swayed so easily.
Clothes were pegged on the line in neat order; pants, shirt, shorts and socks. The flowery whiff of detergent that fills the air as they unfurled the spare bed sheet soothes him, and when he exhales it does not hurt. It was a sweet smell; a contrast to the stale, antiseptic, artificial scent back when he still lived in a room where sunlight could not reach, a tool to be discarded.
And now he was here, on the balcony of his brother's house and doing laundry with his future sister-in-law.
How awfully surreal.
He hears her humming softly as they smooth the sheets; a whimsical tune heard from the radio in a distant time. Green eyes trace the little indents her fingers form detachedly, mannerisms much like a cat, and when their fingers accidentally brush through the thin material it takes him more than a moment to realise.
His shoulders tense, and he flinches as he pulls away. A yowl almost leaves his lips, and with prickling embarrassment he refuses to meet her eyes in the aftermath even though he hears her apologise frantically.
It was moments like these where he wished his brother hadn't gone for one of his "out-of-the-way jobs". The house was quiet, too quiet, and with an annoyed curl of his mouth he finds himself missing his dumb smile and the loud cheers that would echo the halls. He slams that thought into the ground and buries it quickly when the embarrassment flares further.
His fingers still tingle at that brief contact, and later when he comes in the living room and sees her resting on the sofa cradling the robot cat to her chest he stops. A nagging notion tells him he should grab the box of sweets on the kitchen counter and leave, pretend nothing ever happened.
He doesn't.
Her eyes were closed, a soft wistfulness on her lips as she strokes the cat in her arms. Meowie purrs, pressing closer to her in contentment as programmed codes spill forth from its mouth.
"Master's most important person gives the best scratches nya!~"
Saeran turns away as she laughs softly, ignoring the guilt and strange lurch in his stomach that threatened to pull him under.
Some things were just not meant to be seen.
He returns only to put a blanket over her sleeping figure, careful to keep the edges away from the now silent cat. Task done, he steps away, freezing at the soft murmur of her voice.
"Thank you Saeran." Her eyes were still closed when he whips his head back, trying not to look too surprised at the smile on her still peaceful face.
A warmth flickers at the back of his throat, but he merely shakes his head before grumbling back into his room.
.
...
.
Autumn brings with it cooler winds, but on some days the weather remains musky and warm; remnants of a season past. Leaves fall in heaps, layers of red and gold foils to dust the ground a muddied brown. Walking past the piles of leaves as they cut through the park, Saeran pays no attention as he bites into the corner of his ice cream cone. The edge of the dry cleaning bag he carries digs into his arm at every step, and he fidgets, scowling at the insufferable weight.
Teal eyes shift to the woman beside him, taking in her thoughtful expression and slowing steps. Bags of groceries strain the plastic as she lugs them forward, and he wonders if she found them too heavy. A part of him scoffs and rebukes at where that train of thought was starting to lead.
It was too warm today, far too warm as the humid heat burrowed deep into his skin. He wishes she could hurry up so they could get home faster.
Home.
Saeran looks away before she could notice his stare, finishing the last of the melting ice cream before playing at the crinkled weight in his arms. Her footsteps falter, stops, and he turns back, the barest trace of annoyance flickering over his face as he follows her gaze forward.
In the distance a group of visitors were bent over on the grass, hands throwing crumbs to flocking birds. The cacophony of chirps and caws was thunderous, but the air oozed with a tranquillity so different that it stirred a tinge of curiosity within him.
"Saeran?" That peculiar smile was on her face again when he snaps his head back, embarrassed that he had been caught leaning forward. Excitement glints at the tip of her tongue as she motions to the gathering. "Want to go and see?"
The hard beating of wings distracts him again, and before he knew it she was guiding him over, cupping a hand over her mouth to hide her laugh when he takes the lead, unable to restrain hiding the timid eagerness over stiffened features.
He halts at the edge of the field, hesitance swirling in his stomach briefly when heads turn towards him. The peoples' bright greetings almost cause him to cower, but the presence by his side makes him still. A light tug at the bag in his hold, and he allows her to take the cleanly pressed dress-clothes away, placing them carefully next to the groceries on the ground.
Saeran swallows stiffly when she prods him forward; a step into the field, and sparrows have already begun to circle them at cautious distance. A stranger gifts him a handful of bird seed and coaxes him to bend down, palms open wide and outstretched.
Sweat clings to his sweater as he follows; shaking hands could barely hold straight at the awareness of intent stares. This had not been a good idea. But seeing the birds come to him cautiously and her eager smile as she squats so that they were side by side he thinks he can bear with it a little longer.
It was the least he could do to repay her for the ice cream.
A sparrow pecks at the seed trail, and he watches breathlessly as it hops to follow. Its body puffs up with feathers as it nears even closer, soft fluff brushing his fingers as it chirps and stops. Beady eyes look at him with head cocked, and for a moment he fancies it was staring into him with intellect and purpose.
Even though a mere bird…
The barest brush of a smile creeps onto his face.
He never had anyone look at him as though he was to be adored before.
It had been a careless motion as he shifts back; elbows unintentionally digging into soft shoulders and making her grunt in surprise. His hands shake harder as he jerks and wobbles, only to freeze again at the touch of her fingers steadying him. The buzzing in his veins intensifies ten-fold, ticklish brushes of feathers making him jump. He staggers from shock, losing balance, and with an armless flail falls on his back with a loud thump, sending a flurry of wings into the air.
By the time he blinks back his daze the sparrow was gone, but with it came the sound of muffled laughter and giggly apologies. Something swirls in his stomach as he peeks at trembling lips and messy hair. He looks back at the scattered seeds on grass and his sparrowless hands and thinks it would be fine if he could mistake it for disappointment.
.
...
.
He was washing the dishes when the shattering happens; a jarring echo that spills forth jagged memories of porcelain and screams. The bar of soap slips from his hands into foamy water as he whips his head around, running out of the kitchen as fast as his legs could carry him.
The living room appears in a burst of light, and he drinks in the sight of spotless walls and bright colours greedily. No mold, no dragging feet and scratchy voice, only a broken vase and his brother's fiancée frozen with mop held mid-air.
Murky whispers fade away as he consoles himself, trying to hide tensed shoulders and ragged breathing, but the weight of his past was too heavy, too cracked with wounds that would never heal beneath the scars. His right arm burns.
"I wasn't careful enough." She croaks, and that was enough to break him from his stupor. Alarm seeps through him as he eyes the spilled water and her pained expression. Had she hurt herself?
"Wait, I'll go to you." He inspects the broken mess, making careful steps towards her, but she was already shaking her head before he could finish, bending down to place the mop aside and pick at the broken pieces of glass.
"Don't!" The need for a dustpan vanishes as he sees her foot shift to accommodate her weight. Saeran swallows, finding her eyes as she looks up. "J-just stay right there. You will hurt your feet if you step on glass."
Déjà vu pricks at his skin as he moves to brush aside the fallen flowers and pick the glass by her feet. The dreamy visage of a tattered dream from a darker time. They had played this part before, back when she was his tool and he was her stranger. A treacherous thought prods at him as he wonders, but as quick as it comes it dissipates.
His hand over her neck as she had stilled, doe eyes fluttering in soft butterfly wingbeats that betrayed the fear in her heart. She had pleaded for him to stop then, hadn't she? But nothing had fazed him from the prospect of obeying and getting as far away from his other half as he possibly could, from the stink of those unworthy. The glass scraping the bottom of his boots had crunched as he murmured false comfort into her ears, eyes darkening as she shook her head and cried for his br—
He knows even before the story ends that nothing could have changed.
Saeran closes his eyes, counts to ten, and continues to scoop something broken together.
Despite his chiding she bends to help him gather the broken shards when he finishes clearing those closest to her feet. Guilt stains her eyes like stray petals of the fallen flowers; pretty lilies and orchids she always remembered to water every morning while Saeyoung wipes the table and does a pout that makes her laugh and- and the sight of it pokes something uncomfortable into his heart.
He would rather she smile. Anything, to lessen the sadness on her face and have her happy again.
The back of their fingers brush once as they stand with the remains of the broken vase. This time she is the one that jerks away immediately, mouth twisting into something sheepish. He knows it's because of him; knows that she knows he doesn't like physical contact. Yet the knowledge made his morose mood grow.
"S-sorry!" Her apologies blanket his ears one, too many times as she tries to meet his gaze. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to."
"I…" His palms turn clammy as he looks back down, sharp edges digging into his skin. "I don't mind."
He hears her scrambling to follow as he heads to the kitchen, discarding the brittle glass into the bin. The pieces fall with a sharp clatter, and he does not wait for her before going back out to wipe the water off the floor and check for any stray splinters.
The dewy flowers glimmer and catch under the soft light from the window, and he gathers them to himself just as she appears through the doorway, arms cradling week-old blooms on the verge of wilting.
"Later," He holds the mop in one hand and gestures to the haphazard bouquet, so, so close to falling apart. "We can go and get some new ones."
When she finally laughs a little smile and comes to take the flowers from him, a little something like relief sets the tips of his ears on fire.
.
...
.
The car pulls up on the road, door opening before its brakes could stop. A head of red stumbles out, and Saeran hears muffled yelling as the vaguely familiar agent friend of his brother's pops his head out from the driver's end.
A choked gasp of joy sounds from the front door, and he watches with a frown as the young woman runs out to embrace his brother, bare feet skimming the smooth concrete before colliding into him. He wills himself to look away as Saeyoung picks her up and spins her around, to be ignorant of their foreheads touching and their nuzzling noses as she pulls him in for a kiss.
Already the dream was breaking, fading and fading until there was nothing left for him to ground himself. The tingling lessens until it felt like the ordinary buzz of pins and needles, the painful ache within him wanes, and when he blinks the fog away the world focuses again.
He supposes that it was for the best.
It wouldn't have mattered anyway, since he could hardly remember the ghost of her touch anymore.
(He thinks of the warmth of her fingers and shakes away the slightest melancholy that crosses his face.)
His lips dissolve into a scowl when his brother yells for him; all obnoxious and irksome as he grins, glasses glinting under the late afternoon sun. The cool surface of the doorway was a small comfort he had to leave, but he does it all the same, walking down the porch with a less than sullen look on his face.
He finds her gaze again when Saeyoung pulls him over and squeezes him in a hug he cannot help but cringe and squirm at, watching her eyes crinkle as her laugh lines form, and hopes if all the wishful thinking of a brother who would always be second best could amount to something, it would be to let this moment stay.
...
x
A/N
In which saeran and mc bond over chores together. I'm so glad I managed to finish this on the eve of pokemon sm release date aha. This wasn't supposed to be as low-key angst as it was hmm... Welp, point is, unrequited love and saeran go hand in hand haha h a
i love drawing parallels to in-game events B)
(also, Saeran's Mint Eye tattoo is on his right arm)