Heaven Help A Fool Who Falls In Love

11.

The gold suite is just as its name implies. The bed is gold. The walls had panels that are covered in gold-flecked wallpaper, then wainscoted in gilt. The high ceiling is coffered and painted with a sunrise scene of golden magnificence and the floor is a rich golden oak, or it looked like golden oak with designs in a deeper gold. A thick plush rug of light golden yellow accentuates everything else. As if it isn't already overkill that everything in the room is monochromatically similar.

Sana looks down on the carpet, half-expecting to find the carpet pattern to be interlocking dollar signs and is relieved to note that it is just an obscure floral design.

She sighs and crosses the room to open a door that leads to a dressing room almost the size of the bedroom itself. Three quarters of it are panelled in mirrors, all gilt framed of course. And through another door with gold handles shaped like dolphins is a private bath of yellow marble with gold dolphin fixtures and gold faucets.

"Holy God!" She mutters. "A gold sink!" She stares at it and the gold-framed mirror above it disbelieving horror. Then something is reflected in the mirror and Sana's mouth drops open as she realises what it is. She blinks, once, twice then turns around to take a good look.

The toilet is a golden throne.

She gapes at it for a second before she bursts out into hysterical laughter. Laughter that intensifies each time she takes in the accoutrements of the bathroom. She laughs so hard that she sinks to her knees on the yellow marble floor.

This has to be a joke. It's just too unbelieveable not to be.

But as Sana stands there long enough, the situation becomes less funny by the moment. All of it is made from high quality materials, the best that money can buy. An incalculable amount of money has been used to make this that could have been put to better use, Sana thinks as she remembers the homeless people.

Her mood turns sober quickly as she almost runs out of the ludicrous bathroom, feeling very saddened and a little bit overwhelmed and pessimistic about her chances of ever teaching Sehun anything.

Once in the bedroom, she just stands in the center and stares around her. Every piece of furniture in the room, every painting, every material from the fireplace to the objects d'art are coldly flawless. Expensive. Priceless.

Minutes pass, one by one. Time revealing what Sana hasn't understood before. The man who owns the house, this room, needs to learn more than just how to give from his heart. He is so lost, his values so skewed, that Sana wonders if Sehun can ever find joy or happiness in just living. If he even understands the human spirit or anything that matters in the world.

Sana curls up on the bed, hugging one of the expensive plump down pillows with the golden fringes on the gold covers as she stares up at the canopy with a sense of grief so very deep it touches her in a way nothing has ever before.

And without any outward reason, a tear drops down from eyes suddenly misty with moisture. Then another and another until she is crying silently. She turns over and buries her head in her arms, sobbing now, wracking sobs that come from her very soul.

Sana is crying, but not for herself. She is crying for Sehun, a fallen soul.