The Spaces Between Us [Xiumin/Luhan]
The Spaces Between Us
Xiumin/Luhan, side Baekhyun/Chanyeol
PG; 7,895 words
Maybe Luhan isn’t even a person, he joked with himself.
a/n: written for seeeno for runandgun! also thank you to my lovely Annie for holding my hand throughout most of the stages of this fic, draft to whole new draft to panicked writing to actually finishing :)
He’s doing it again.
This boy, Luhan, had just recently taken the seat next to Minseok’s in homeroom. It’d been empty throughout the year so far-they had only gotten a month and a half in-but now it was suddenly filled.
Luhan was quiet, Minseok learned, but he talked when talked to. The teachers addressed him, asked him to answer things for the class like any other student, and he would answer with a smile on his delicate features. He seemed so eager to learn, and eager to please. Minseok squirmed in his desk and tried to remind himself not to mess with his uniform tie whenever their physics teacher’s eyes landed on him. Watching Luhan’s face glow when he glanced up from his notes, eyes seeming to sparkle, Minseok knew that he wanted to capture that sort of confidence. It was fascinating.
At the same time, he wanted Luhan to stop staring at him when he didn’t think Minseok was looking.
--
“It’s so hot!”
Chanyeol cast Baekhyun a sideways glare. Baekhyun shoved Chanyeol’s arm off his shoulders because of that very reason. Minseok laughed and continued walking his bike forward, careful not to accidentally step in the way of the pedals. It was unnecessarily hot, as his friend had said, and Minseok wanted to ditch his uniform so badly.
“Stop whining,” Chanyeol retorted. Baekhyun gave him another push and they nearly toppled over into Minseok. The two of them were going to tumble into traffic some day if they weren’t careful. But Minseok kept laughing, worries aside.
Other than the sweltering heat, the air was nice. There was a slight breeze whipping through the air, fluffing the sides of Minseok’s hair into his face so that he had to squint. But it felt good, at least. Sweat drying inside a mandatory, white button up shirt. The sun threatened to fry the three of them on their way out of school, but at least the wind was kind, and it smelled sweet.
Roses, from the house they were walking past. And … something else.
“Hey, isn’t that the new guy?” Chanyeol asked, eyes moving across the street.
“Luhan!” Naturally, Baekhyun already liked him. Baekhyun was like a puppy in the sense that he loved anyone who gave him a nice pat on the head, or let him borrow a pencil for a quiz. Either of the two would suffice. Minseok prided himself in the fact that him and Baekhyun had built a friendship on legos and hide and seek for many years before the need for quizzes arose. Chanyeol, as well. The two of them were a bit of a packaged deal.
Sure enough, it was Luhan, a few paces ahead and on the sidewalk opposite the three of them, alone. They all recognized him despite the fact that he hung his head as he walked. He’d already thought the new kid was a little strange from the way he seemed to have little stars in his eyes to his smiles to the way he stared at Minseok now and then.
Honestly, if anyone else had done it, it would have given Minseok the creeps. But Luhan was a different, slightly infuriating story. A mystery.
He didn’t know why he was so irked at the fact that Baekhyun knew him, and reacted to him that way. When Luhan turned and eyed the three of them, a smile broke across his face-that stupid, beautiful face-and he lifted his arm to wave a little bit too enthusiastically, perhaps. Baekhyun was practically bouncing up and down. He wanted Luhan to walk with them, and Minseok wasn’t sure why that was suddenly the last thing he wanted.
The air was sickly sweet, and Luhan’s presence was like the sun in his midst. Overwhelming outside of the classroom, outside desks and furtive glances. He wanted to talk to Luhan, but he didn’t know how.
It was too strange. Minseok always knew how to talk to people. He was the Nice Guy in school, he talked to lots of people. Just not Luhan. Luhan was someone he looked at, and who looked back at him, and smiled at him.
Maybe Luhan isn’t even a person, he joked with himself. He made a note not to mention that to Chanyeol; it was more than possible that Chanyeol would just take him seriously, because Chanyeol was Chanyeol, which meant that he did not joke around with other-worldly beings
--
Everyone knew Luhan. Everyone in this school was nosy, and having a new kid meant there was a new person to learn and explore and try to befriend. New mind to climb into. Minseok watched from the sidelines; he wanted to be different. They flocked to him, but Luhan treated them all the same. The lines around his eyes when he smiled framed his pretty eyes the same way for each person.
He would spread himself thin if he kept this up, Minseok knew. Or maybe Luhan operated differently. Another thing to add to his fake what if Luhan isn’t human list.
Luhan was ‘from China’ he said. The accent came out, then, after someone asked him to speak Mandarin once before homeroom started and their teacher waltzed in to silence them. Minseok heard him trying to work out certain words under his breath for another five minutes or so, tongue caught somewhere between two languages.
The first time they spoke, Luhan asked him for an eraser. Minseok fumbled around until his pencil case would open properly and handed it over. A “thank you” came, politely, with a quick flash of nice, white teeth. It didn’t end there.
“You know Baekhyun,” Luhan continued.
“I do,” he smiled.
And it ended with Minseok asking Luhan to come get bubble tea with them after school. Luhan took a moment to think at first, gears turning, but he agreed, and his eyes twinkled. Minseok bit his lip and said, “Great!” before they were promptly shushed by their teacher. Minseok couldn’t help but feel nothing but excitement as he and Luhan both stifled their giggles.
--
“Do they not have bubble tea in China?”
Chanyeol was the one who asked.
The four of them sat together, circled around a table, drinks in their hands. Baekhyun was chewing on on a tapioca bead, slowly. Luhan only seemed more confused as he watched the muscles in Baekhyun’s jaw work. It was like he’d never seen a person chew before.
Minseok bit back a laugh as Luhan lifted his own cup and examined the bottom, where the bubbles rested. His brow furrowed. If he was trying to be funny, it was working.
“No, we do . . .” said Luhan. “I’ve just never had it?”
Baekhyun swallowed. “Wow, really?”
Luhan nodded. “There are a lot of things I haven’t had before, actually.” His eyes sparkled, again. “Especially Korean food. That, too. My family stays in.”
“We should take him out more often,” Chanyeol said, his eyes toggling between Minseok and Baekhyun’s faces.
“My mom makes great ddukbokki,” Baekhyun chimed in. “I’ll take you to my house sometime.”
The gratitude presented itself on Luhan’s face in a way that made him look as though he may cry, lips closed around his straw with a bubble caught in the middle of it. He let go and the three of them watched as his eyes sparkled at Baekhyun, almost magically.
Luhan was now, officially, part of their trio. With only a few kind words and some bubble tea, and shining eyes, they had morphed into a quartet.
Minseok felt warm inside, and he smiled wider when Luhan looked at him again.
--
“Do you like soccer?” Minseok asked one day, while their teacher had gone to procure chalk from another teacher after his own had mysteriously vanished.
Luhan paused, body completely still for a moment, before he nodded.
“I do too,” he said. “We should play sometime.”
A grin opened up on Luhan’s face. “That’d be great.”
Anything else they might have said was cut off as the door slid open again, and in came an angry teacher, fresh with new chalk and questions to pester them with. Lucky Luhan was prepared for everything, as usual, and Minseok slumped in his chair, trying to avoid being seen by the world.
Trying to avoid everything but Luhan.
--
It was a little infuriating how easily Luhan had permeated his mind; wormed his way in like a stray thought that kept coming back until it had become part of everyday life. It happened like second nature. They sat together in every class, ate lunch together with Chanyeol and Baekhyun once, twice, soon every day of the week. After school, they would run off to coffee shops, libraries, and all sorts of places to attempt to do homework and group projects.
Luhan was a fan of sweets. It was almost gross how quickly he would consume his cupcakes whenever they made a stop at a bakery on the way to Chanyeol or Baekhyun’s house for what was supposed to be a study session.
Today it was raining, and Minseok had to hold both their umbrellas when they stopped at a crosswalk, while Luhan wolfed down sugar in the form of a large cookie. Minseok’s was still sitting in his backpack as it had been for the last three blocks, untouched save for one bite that, thankfully, was his own work.
He’d probably end up sharing it later.
--
Sharing was exactly what happened. Luhan was ahead of them in their various math exercises, as usual, and bored while he waited for the timer to go off. Baekhyun and Chanyeol had a test the next day, and Minseok had been falling behind in stupid calculus.
Luhan had already had a few of the store-bought cookies that Minseok’s mother had bought for them, and he’d sipped his lemonade so that it was less than half full. Luhan was a monster when it came to treats. A monster. It was funny, though, to the three of them. But it was also slightly concerning. Minseok thought it was especially amusing when his mother’s face twisted indignantly at Luhan’s chocolate-smeared lips; his sated face.
He tore into the paper bag that housed Minseok’s snickerdoodle, asking permission first, and rested his chin against his other hand as he waited, picking mindlessly at sugar-coated goodness. Minseok would have frowned, but he didn’t.
He finally tore his eyes from Luhan when Baekhyun poked him and pestered him with a question about pre-calc. That, Minseok could help with. He could feel Luhan’s gaze on the top of his head, across the table.
--
A hard thud against the floor was what woke him.
Minseok sat up, in time with the beginning of his mother’s old music box, and dug his fingers into the ends of his thin blanket, terrified of some sort of intruder. But the music box was still going, oddly creepy at this hour when he’d always used it as a sort of comfort. His mother would pull it down from his top shelf for him-until high school Minseok had been unable to reach his top shelf without a little bit of trouble-and wind it up for him, too. But all Minseok could see how was some horrible creature come to murder him in the middle of the night. And it had knocked down Minseok’s favorite possession as well.
Switching on his bedside lamp, Minseok threw off the thin blanket and swung his legs over the side of his bed, feet connecting with the floor. As a sharp yellow light flooded the room, he could see that there was no one else in his room. The paranoia subsided.
He crouched down next to his bookcase and scooped the music box into his hands, closing the top and sighing. It hadn’t been broken. That was all that mattered. Its song was over, for now, until Minseok decided to open it again.
It was when he reached up to put it back into its rightful place that he saw him: the tiny person, only a few inches tall, trying to hide behind the shoebox he had placed up there. The shape was familiar, though small, and much too alarming for any sort of recognition. Minseok felt himself the drop the music box, the ornament bumping into his chest on the way down and slamming into his toe and making him crouch down in pain. He cried out.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, are you okay?” the four inch human asked. It spoke.
Minseok looked up, and saw the boy’s thumbprint sized head looking down at him over the ledge of the tall bookshelf. He rubbed his eyes a few times, to wipe away any blurred doubts. “Lu … Luhan?”
He lifted a tentative hand, and waved.
“I don’t . . . understand . . .”
Luhan sighed. “It might be better if you don’t ask questions.”
“You’re tiny.”
“You’re a giant,” Luhan snapped. “Have you considered that?”
“Really?”
“Maybe you’re part of a race of giants and I’m the normal one here,” said Luhan. Minseok could hear the falseness in his voice. He was aware of his size, that he was all of four inches tall, shrunk down to something that was even smaller than a doll. And he didn’t like being reminded of this very fact, Minseok could tell.
It was still weird.
“You’re in my house.”
“Can you help me down?”
“You’re in my house,” Minseok repeated, awed, and puzzled.
Luhan frowned, pulling the corners of his mouth down in an over-exaggerated manner. “Are you going to leave me up here?”
“How did you even get up there?”
“So many questions,” he fussed. “I’m a good climber. But I’m . . . scared of heights.”
“Yet you still ended up there.”
“I’m also very curious.”
“I knew that already,” Minseok chuckled.
“If you’re not going to help me-” He watched Luhan tie a long piece of string around the top bar of the bookcase. Luhan began to descend, and he made it a full foot before he stopped and whimpered, eyes on the floor. Minseok bit his lip, trying to ignore how cute it was to see him pout over something that seemed so little to him.
No matter how out of this world the situation was, Minseok could not just leave Luhan there overnight to try and overcome his fear of heights on his own. He came closer, extending his hand so that it was placed under Luhan’s suspended feet. “Let me help.”
“Oh now you want to help?” he laughed the force of it making him slip into Minseok’s palm. His shoes felt weird against Minseok’s opened hand. Luhan nearly tumbled over again, but Minseok saved him with his other hand, coming to his rescue.
This was too weird.
Really.
Weird.
“My classmate is sitting in the palm of my hand . . .” he said out loud, slowly. “This is interesting.”
“Can you put me down?”
He had a person in his hands, a real person that walked and talked and sat next to him in class, and answered unnecessarily difficult history questions without missing a beat. “Uh, sure,” he mumbled, crouching down.
Once he’d lowered Luhan to the floor, Luhan looked back up at him and said, “If you move your shelf a little to the right, I’ll show you where I’ve been.” He proceeded to disappear behind that very shelf. Minseok sighed. He was waiting for himself to wake up from this strange dream. As soon as he got to school, he could tell Luhan all about it and they could laugh together over how ridiculous it was and how Minseok was never going to eat right before bed any time soon.
Really, this had to be a dream. He dismissed the pain he’d felt earlier from the music box colliding with his toe and used his shoulder to help him nudge his bookcase over a couple inches. Light poured out through a hole in the wall, spilling onto the carpet. Minseok got onto his stomach and tried to look in. There wasn’t much room. The opening was like those mouse holes he’d seen in cartoons, but larger. He wondered how long that had even been there in the first place.
“Wow.”
“Ta-dah,” said Luhan, spreading his arms. “You’ve been awfully calm about this. Thanks for not squishing me. I’ve never had an incident like this with owners before.”
“How long have you been living in here?” Minseok asked, blinking, waiting for something to change. He could only fit his head in. “In my wall?”
“Four days, I think,” Luhan replied, taking a seat on the dollhouse chair that had gone missing from his little sister’s set about two days ago. Her tantrum had only lasted a few minutes. “The last place I lived in had a cat that tried to eat me.”
Minseok followed a trail of little footprints in the dust that Luhan left behind. “Well the neighbors have a cat, so be careful if you go outside.”
“I know,” Luhan said. “I managed to get past it on my way here.” He fluffed his pillow. It was an actual pillow, tiny, with floral patterns. Minseok wondered for a moment if it came from his sister’s dollhouse as well. She hadn’t thrown a tantrum about any pillows.
“Is that comfortable?” Minseok asked, eyeing the makeshift bed that Luhan had made, still possibly under construction.
“It’s better than nothing, even though I’ve had better,” his classmate replied. Classmate. Friend. Minseok remembered this suddenly, that this was how they knew each other. Luhan went to his school. Too many questions were busy buzzing through his head as Luhan was taking a dainty bite out of a crumb that Minseok assumed was probably from some bread in his mother’s kitchen. Luhan was staring at him. “Do you want me to leave . . . ?”
“No, I just . . . why here?”
“Why? Because there’s space in this wall and I’ve been able to take things without anyone noticing. Until now. You’ve probably noticed by now.”
“You took a chair from my sister’s dollhouse.”
Luhan fought the grin that threatened to spread across his face. “I did. Sorry.”
“She has other chairs,” Minseok chuckled. “Is that it, though? It’s easy to steal from us?”
Suddenly, Luhan seemed offended, his almost-smile falling away from his face. “No cats. No dogs. Nothing that wants to eat me. I didn’t know it was your house at first, honestly. But it’s more than about stealing, Minseok. This is about finding a home. I feel safe here; you’re my friend.”
“But don’t you have a home?” he asked, but where is your family?
Luhan’s hand rested on what appeared to be some sort of switch for the regular-sized lightbulb that sat next to his little fabric mattress with the floral pattern pillow. He’d done that himself, in four days. Minseok’s mind was spinning in its attempt to wrap itself around all of this. The fact that Luhan was living in his bedroom wall without him knowing for this many days was enough to throw him for a loop. “I’ll tell you after school tomorrow,” he said. “I know it’s your house and all, but I’m tired.”
The expression that graced Luhan’s delicate features, caught between gratitude and something else Minseok couldn’t exactly pinpoint, was enough to make Minseok say ‘okay’ and bid him goodnight.
--
Morning came, along with more questions than answers. It hadn’t been a dream. The first thing he did upon waking up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes was flip over and glance at his wall.
The opening was still there, but there was no light; no outward signs of Luhan. But if the opening was there, then Luhan was real, and only a few inches tall. Thumbelina sized, and everything. Minseok’s head spun into a headache and he knew he was going to need some of his parents’ strongest coffee that morning.
He kept his uniform tie loose and folded his blazer into his backpack as he went down the stairs, patting his sister on the head and reminding her not to try to stick her head through the bars or she’d get stuck. She stuck her tongue out at him but obeyed, following him into the kitchen and attempting to latch herself onto his leg instead.
“Minseok, you look pale,” his mother said over her shoulder. His father handed her a mug of coffee.
“Just tired. Studying,” he mumbled, taking a bowl out of the cupboard. But even cereal was hard to get down. He drank more coffee than he ate an actual breakfast. Luhan was still on his mind, and he ran out the door before his parents could ask what was wrong.
--
Seeing him again. That was almost stranger than what had happened the previous night.
It was almost like watching the sea part; their classmates, separating and scurrying around each other chatting and returning to their desks before homeroom began. And there he was, in his seat, third row from the back, to the left of Minseok’s desk, scribbling circles in his notebook, head kept down.
Minseok’s shadow over him as he set down his own books made Luhan lift his head.
“Hi,” he said first.
Minseok managed a small smile. It wasn’t hard. “Hi.” Luhan waited, staring. Minseok slowly lowered himself into his desk. “So.”
“Let’s do something after school.”
“Sounds good,” he answered a bit too quickly, perhaps.
“The usual,” Luhan went on. “But just us.”
“Perfect.”
--
“Where do you keep all your school things?”
“Books? Basement,” Luhan chirped through sips of his macchiato. “Or in a locker.” He broke off another piece of the scone they were sharing and popped it into his mouth. He was probably going to be the one to finish it. They were seated under a tree in a park about ten minutes away from their school. Baekhyun and Chanyeol had pouted in response when told they would have to do their own thing today. Sorry guys, we made plans. We forgot to tell you, they had lied.
“Do your clothes shrink with you when you change?”
“Thankfully, yeah,” he replied with a laugh. “That’s just the way it’s always been.”
“It’d suck if you kept changing back and forth without clothes.”
“Tell me about it.”
Minseok laughed with him this time. “This is really happening, right?”
“If you don’t believe me now I’ll poke you in your sleep until you acknowledge me,” Luhan said, narrowing his eyes. Something told Minseok that having little fingers jabbing away at his sides would either be painful or annoying in that awful, ticklish way. He wouldn’t be in a rush to find out. Minseok pushed the scone all the way into Luhan’s hands, like a peace offering despite the fact that there had only been peace between them. And confusion, but peaceful confusion.
“Thanks for not . . .”
“Not what?”
“Not throwing me away,” Luhan grinned. Minseok thought he looked terribly lonely for just a blip of a second, before the sun came out again, and Luhan seemed happy.
He wouldn’t ask about Luhan’s family, not yet.
--
Chanyeol’s arm came out of nowhere, hooking around Minseok’s neck. “Let me go, let me go I’m older than you, you have to listen to me,” Minseok struggled. Their heights made it difficult and Chanyeol was caught between leaning down and pulling Minseok up, but at the risk of straining his neck, he let go. The older card never worked with Chanyeol, who had always been too defiant and hyper for his own good. Sometimes he listened. Sometimes.
“Where have you been?”
“I’ve been,” he paused. He’d seen Chanyeol yesterday, in class, as usual. “With Luhan . . . ”
“Oh.”
“What? What do you mean by oh?”
“Just. Oh.”
“You know, I could have pointed out a long time ago that you’re always with Baekhyun,” Minseok said, clever smile in tow.
Chanyeol nodded once, eyes narrowing. “Indeed. I see.”
“Wait. No. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“We’ll see,” Chanyeol sang as he began to walk away.
Minseok groaned. “What does that mean?”
But Chanyeol was already around the corner and gone, hair bouncing along with him and when Minseok checked his phone for the time, he realized he had one minute to get to class.
--
Luhan’s desk was empty. Unoccupied.
Vacant.
There would be no Luhan today.
Minseok never saw Luhan in the mornings when he woke up. They had their own routines and they always waited until the school day started to greet each other. It was better that way; it was easier to pretend that Luhan wasn’t nearly pocket sized in his true form and that he wasn’t living in Minseok’s wall, and that they didn’t spend a good amount of time lying on Minseok’s floor, talking about nonsense. Whatever they wanted.
He hadn’t seen Luhan since last night, when he’d made tea and given Luhan tiny sips by lowering his spoon down to Luhan’s level as they sat on the floor, textbooks open.
Luhan had branded himself into Minseok’s daily routine, a near-constant presence.
But Luhan was missing. Minseok stared, and stared and stared, willing Luhan to appear again in his usual seat so they could pass notes and share erasers. And at lunch, the trio didn’t feel right as a trio again. Baekhyun frowned at his soda, and Chanyeol was trying desperately to get the two of them back to their normal selves. He’d even resorted to flailing his arms around.
Normal wasn’t normal with just three anymore.
--
Minseok had never gone home so quickly. He sent a text to Baekhyun that he wouldn’t be able to hang out with them after school anymore, and hopped onto the bus before it could buzz with Baekhyun’s reply. He’d been the first one out the door when classes finished, nearly tripping down the stairs in a rush to get out of there and get home.
His parents still weren’t home yet, and his sister was at a friend’s house until his mother was off work. Minseok threw the front door open after practically shaking his bag to find his house keys at the bottom. This time he tripped up the stairs, dropping his backpack on the top step and bursting through his bedroom door with a light shove.
During school he’d always kept it so that his bookcase would conceal Luhan’s hideout. He edged it aside again, as he always did when no one else was home, or when everyone else had turned their lights out for the night. He crouched down and then flattened himself to the ground, peering through the opening and looking around. “Luhan?”
“Ack!”
“Luhan!” Minseok rejoiced, watching his friend’s small frame tumblr from his bed, the fabric of his blankets blankets tangling around his body. “Luhan, what happened? Why weren’t you in school today?”
He sat up. “Can you give me a moment? I’m upside down.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Luhan flipped over and pulled the blankets away from his face, fringe puffing upward slightly. He blinked at Minseok, eyes bleary. “Hi.” He added a wave.
“Are you alright?” Minseok raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know. I woke up this morning and I couldn’t . . . change back to you-size.”
“Me-size?”
Luhan shook his head. “Couldn’t do it,” he sighed. “I couldn’t sleep in the first place. That usually does it. No energy.”
“When will you be able to change back?”
Luhan gathered up his blankets again and sat on the edge of his makeshift bed. “Tomorrow, maybe?”
“You should sleep some more,” Minseok said, exhaling into the floor. Over the weeks it had gotten less dusty. He wished he could have been a part of that effort, but he hadn’t. It was hard enough only being able to fit his head into this odd space in the wall. He decided then, as he watched Luhan flop back into his bed, that Luhan was slowly going to turn him into a very anxious person.
Tossed onto his own bed, Minseok’s phone kept buzzing.
Baekhyun would drive him nuts, too, if he kept this up.
--
Thunder cracked again, and Minseok could feel the floor rumbling through the legs of his bed, mattress trembling ever so slightly. The loud rumbling forced his eyes open for the third or fourth time that night. As he sat up to close the window he couldn’t help but notice the light in the corner of his eye, and the small shadow, elongated in the light coming from the hole in the wall, peeking out to say hello.
“Minseok?” Luhan’s voice called, tentatively. It was strange how far away he could sound, when he was so close. The light was put out soon after. His steps were quick, feet padding across the carpeted floor. Minseok leaned over the side of his bed. Thunder whipped through the air again, and Luhan tripped, letting out a small cry that almost sent Minseok flying out of his bed to help him.
“Are you okay?” whispered Minseok.
“I’m . . . fine,” he said. Luhan had his pillow underneath his arm. “Is it okay if I sleep down here?”
Minseok blinked a few times, eyes aided by. A flash of lightning lit up Luhan’s face for him as he worried at his bottom lip. “You can sleep next to my pillow.”
“Can I?”
“As long as you aren’t worried I’ll crush you in my sleep.”
Luhan hesitated for a moment, but another rumble shuddered through the floor, and Luhan wobbled. The thunder was what tipped him over, what kept him awake, and what frightened him. Minseok lowered his hand for Luhan to grab onto without another word, and his friend held onto his finger as he brought him up to the edge of his mattress, where Luhan set his feet down and traveled to the space next to Minseok’s pillow. There, he set down his own pillow and curled into a half ball, eyes still open; they searched Minseok’s face.
“Thanks,” he finally said.
“No problem.”
“Thunder feels like a mini earthquake when I’m on the ground,” he explained. He didn’t have to, though. Minseok smiled, lips closed, but content. Luhan seemed less afraid the next time lightning cut through the clouds and thunder lashed out at them. His eyelids didn’t flutter or shut, but he wasn’t shaking, and he didn’t freeze up with the sky flashed with light. His body was calm.
Minseok felt at peace, just because Luhan was. And so he closed his eyes.
“I ran away from home,” Luhan whispered.
“You what?”
“I ran away,” Luhan repeated. “I ran away from my family. My parents.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t like it when I changed, when I made things big, when I made myself like you. They smothered me.”
Minseok watched as he buried his face into his pillow, fingers digging just slightly into Minseok’s sheets. “They’re your family, though.”
“They didn’t understand. They thought all I was good for was stealing, for making things small. I could do things that no one else could do,” Luhan muttered. “I was their miracle child.” But I didn’t want to be, he must be thinking.
Someone that small could still be so full of responsibility; maybe he wished that he’d been born as any one other than himself. Being Luhan was too much for him. There were too many things he hadn’t done, and they were the same age-they weren’t children anymore, but Luhan had already missed out on so much.
“I wanted to go to school and have lunch with friends and have fun. I just wanted to be a regular kid,” Luhan sighed into floral patterns.
“There’s . . .” Minseok reached his hand out a little, but he stopped himself. “There’s nothing wrong with being a bit special. Being different.”
“But this-this is nice. I don’t want to go back to my old life, Minseok.”
I don’t want you to, he realized. “Don’t think about it now. Go to sleep.”
Luhan finally closed his eyes. “You’re right.”
There was another boom in the distance, the storm retreating from them. There was silence between them, and Minseok’s eyes scanned Luhan’s smaller, fragile frame. Even now, he could see more strengths than weaknesses in him.
He was much stronger than he looked. Stature meant nothing. Luhan could do things that no one else could; he was amazing. Minseok felt his heart swell, and it was then that he realized he’d been biting his lip. As he let go, he nestled into his own pillow and shut his eyes, following after Luhan into his own dreams.
When he woke, he felt a warm weight against his chest. His hand flew to it, to move it away or to know what it was. Skin. An arm, casually flopped over him. He lifted his head; he could feel little exhales against his shoulder, running up his neck, and when he turned he saw it. Luhan’s sleeping face, his body curled securely around Minseok’s, and he’d grown again.
Luhan fit nicely into his side. He felt almost as though it was okay to think these things, to like the way Luhan’s leg had ended up tossed over his own. The dollhouse pillow was long gone, and they were sharing now. It was good.
He flopped back down again, his own fingers against Luhan’s soft forearm. Just as he was about to close his eyes again, the alarm went off.
--
“If you’re so good at stealing why did my sister notice the stuff you took from her set?”
Luhan chuckled and bit into his sandwich he’d bought at the cafeteria. Minseok had given him both chocopies he’d packed into his bag for lunch, though. That was a plus. “Not my best work.”
A bag dropped into the space next to Luhan, soon replaced by Chanyeol, with Baekhyun on Minseok’s side. They all clicked into place. Baekhyun spent enough time fussing over how Luhan had missed so much by missing even only one day, and Chanyeol wanted to go somewhere after school. Was there ever a day when he didn’t want to? Baekhyun nodding along was only encouraging them.
“Can we just go to the library?” asked Luhan.
Chanyeol paused, arm slung around Luhan’s shoulders. “Sure thing!”
Minseok saw Luhan’s face falter, as he lowered his eyes to his sandwich again and tried to remember to smile.
--
Minseok was the one who went to get coffee, leaving the other three in a quiet, tucked away corner of the library that was surprisingly vacant today. Usually everyone wanted to sit there, by themselves, when there were four or five seats open depending on chairs. Something with lots of sugar for Luhan, and then cookies to go along with it. Something that would make him look less nervous.
When he sat down, he even tried nudging Luhan’s feet under the table, toes of their sneakers knocking together. Luhan barely fought back. He tried to smile, and he tried to bring that smile to his eyes to get Minseok to relax, but really, it only made him worry even more.
They went home the way they usually did, the two of them leaning on each other inside the skeleton of a bus, sometimes nodding off, sometimes chattering about nonsense, but Luhan was less talkative as compared to the usual Luhan. Sometimes that Luhan would never stop, unless he had food in his mouth, or Minseok or Chanyeol had found a way to fascinate him with their own words.
The next day was not much better. Luhan failed to take notes in any class. When Minseok glanced at his notebook all he would see were winding squiggles, aimless pen marks dragged throughout the pages. The day time brought nothing but nerves for Minseok, worried that Luhan would drift away. This distance was closed when they were home, and Luhan would bring a tiny pillow up into Minseok’s bed at night. It was nonexistent when they woke and Luhan was Tall Luhan again, their arms wrapped around each other.
But there was one particular morning where Luhan woke with tears in his eyes.
--
Then there was the next time that Luhan didn’t show up at homeroom.
Minseok kept waiting, eyes fixed on the door, kept away from the desk where Luhan should have been.
He never came.
--
Minseok hurried home, as he had before. The familiar sense in his gut twisted around and made him feel sick. It made his legs heavy, but he ran through the front door of his house like a mirror of the past, except this time his mother called after him, telling him to close the door behind him. “Straighten up your shoes! Don’t just leave them like that!” But her scolding faded behind him as he ascended the steps and sprinted to his room.
The doorknob was cold and cruel in his hand, as if it was telling him what was coming.
The hole in the wall was there, mocking him as he laid on the floor and peered through, no light to help him. He called for Luhan, again and again, and shined his phone light into the space, but there was no one there.
In fact, there was nothing there at all. No bed, chairs and pillows gone, miniature books taken away as well, and the lightbulb that Luhan had borrowed was smashed, bits of glass covering the floors where Luhan’s footprints had been, where his bed had been.
He was gone, and Minseok felt a horrible tightness in his throat.
--
Night came, and he was still alone. The space in the wall was like a vortex; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the opening, the threshold into a smaller world. But it was a world that he liked. Luhan’s world. Minseok thought that he would have liked to live in it, too, to be that small and tucked away in a corner of the universe that barely anyone was lucky enough to see.
He pulled the music box down from the top of his bookcase, where he had found Luhan all those weeks ago. How long had it been? The music box belonged to his mother once, but she passed it on to him. He played it for his sister sometimes, but mostly it just sat up there and collected dust; sometimes fingerprints pressed into dust and wiped it away, only to collect more later in silence. But Luhan had wanted to see it.
Minseok sat down on the floor, back pressed against the side of his bed, and wound it up until it sang from the beginning, chiming in his ear. The glitter on the edges of the box reminded Minseok of Luhan’s eyes. The sparkle that he possessed in those little windows, Looking down at his hand in the dim, yellow light from his desk lamp on the other side of the room, Minseok remembered the mornings when he’d woken up and Luhan’s fingers had been laced with his.
Nothing about it felt wrong. It was right-so right. He wondered if he’d ever get to feel that again.
A voice, clear through the silence, whispered to him. “Hey. Minseok.”
“Luhan?” when he whipped around, sure enough, there was his friend. His best friend. Four inches of height, standing in his window sill on the second floor of his house. “How did you get up there?”
“I’m a good climber, remember?” he stumbled as he tried to land gracefully on Minseok’s bed from the window frame. It didn’t work out so well, but the messy, unfolded blankets caught him.
Minseok rested his head on the edge of his mattress, setting the music box aside. “You were gone again. And your things, too. Are you moving?”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“My family found me,” said Luhan, walking across the mattress until he was in front of Minseok’s face, and there he sat down, little hands falling onto Minseok’s finger. “They made me pack all my things. I had to go with them. I didn’t want to.”
Minseok’s eyelids fluttered. He bit his lip and told himself that he couldn’t break. “I know.”
“Close your eyes for a second.”
“What?”
Luhan smiled. “Just do it. Close your eyes. Go on,” he urged, and Minseok listened.
There was a soft noise, like a deep breath but something that didn’t quite sound so normal and human. It sounded like the wind was passing through, and he felt it move around his face; it tickled his eyelashes. Another beat of silence passed, before he felt two hands grip his wrists. “Minseok.”
He opened his eyes again, taking in the sight of a fully grown Luhan once more, seated on the edge of his bed, trying to smile. Minseok leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Luhan’s waist and burying his face into Luhan’s stomach so he could feel it contract when he breathed. Luhan held him just as tight, fingers threading through Minseok’s hair. His thumb brushed against the skin behind his ear, soothing.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Luhan sighed, pulling him up so that he could rest his chin on his shoulder. His hands began rubbing Minseok’s back as if he was trying to memorize this feeling. “This isn’t goodbye. Well it is, just not forever. Okay?”
“Not forever. I think can deal with that.”
“We’re going to have to.”
They broke apart, Luhan’s hand lingering for a moment on Minseok’s cheek. He held back a sigh, and breathed slowly.
“I’ll be back, when I can.”
“Bye.”
He leaned down and kissed Minseok where his hand had been, lips ghosting over his skin, and then he was gone.
Goodbye.
--
University was approaching. The nervousness spread through his system and busied his mind with dorm life, what to bring, emailing his future roommates, spending as much time with friends as possible. Summer had engulfed them in sticky humidity once more, and Chanyeol’s hair was frizzy as usual, so he’d cut it short again and Baekhyun whined and complained about how much he’d liked the perm. Minseok found comfort in their stupid arguments. Falling back into their old routines without a fourth person was a little shaky, but they would manage. They had managed before-they’d been just fine-and so they could do it again, Minseok getting hooked under someone’s arm. Everyone was taller than him, even Baekhyun whose mother called him her little bug. Chanyeol had always teased him for that.
Summer meant summer routines, and since junior high that meant reverting to childhood, buying ice cream and running through sprinklers, and Jongin’s pool party smack dab in the middle. Sparklers came along with nearly everything so long as it was nighttime and there were fireflies in the air. Sometimes Minseok would get lost enough in his own laughter, his arm curled around a close friend, that he would forget his troubles. Luhan was a memory, but he should have been a good one. Minseok didn’t need to hurt because of him.
But the familiar curve of an arm around his waist would sometimes send him spiraling, until he would sit off to the side, soda in his hand as he watched Baekhyun and Chanyeol try to scare each other with sparklers.
University was coming for him, and so he tried to ignore the fact that he would be alone again.
--
“When Chanyeol and I go to college, we’ll live with you!” Baekhyun proclaimed loudly, inside a cafe that was already filled to the brim with noise. Everyone wanted iced Americanos. Not like Chanyeol or Baekhyun needed the caffeine, but they gulped it down anyway, eyes wide and excited. They were full of youth, and Minseok was always reminded of the fact that he was, too, when he was with them.
Thankfully he was with them most of the time, these days.
“You guys might end up going to a completely different school, though,” he told them, with a laugh.
“Nope,” said Chanyeol.
Minseok somehow knew; he knew that they were serious, despite their wide, goofy grins and how Baekhyun would remind him of a puppy when he was excited. They were young, though, and they could change their minds. But they’d all been young for a long time, and they’d always been together. They were the constants in his life. They’d never threatened to fade.
It’d been months since Luhan had vanished, and sometimes he wondered if Luhan had existed at all. Baekhyun and Chanyeol never mentioned him, though sometimes Minseok caught Baekhyun staring into nothing for too long, dark eyes deep and contemplative. He could have been thinking about anything, Luhan included. It was hard to hide the look that came when you missed someone. He knew that look pretty well, from trying to force it from his own face. Smiling helped.
“My house?” Minseok asked, after downing the rest of his coffee, warm as he gulped it down.
“Sure,” his friends agreed. Baekhyun shook the ice in his drink as they stood and headed toward the exit. The three of them were greeted by a gust of warm wind, pushing hair into their eyes as Minseok continued to hold the door open for a group of high school kids, from another school perhaps. He loosened his uniform tie as he let it shut, and nearly bumped into Chanyeol’s back as he started after them. Chanyeol had stopped short, grabbing Baekhyun’s wrist in the process.
“Guys,” he said. “Guys.”
Baekhyun peered over at Minseok, who was busy steadying himself after practically head-butting Chanyeol in the spine. “What?”
“Is that who I think it is?”
“Who?” Minseok pushed his disheveled hair away from his face, and moved around Chanyeol. His mother had always told him not to stand him or he’d never be able to see anything anywhere. Why did my son get my short gene, why why?
“Tell me, hyung,” Chanyeol said, grabbing Minseok with his free hand. “Look, tell me that’s not-”
“Luhan!” the name slipped past his mouth as quickly as his eyes began to sting. He could blame it on the wind, but that would be a terrible lie. The crosswalk lit up, and the three of them took off, running as fast as they could, dropping the remains of iced coffees as their feet pounded against the pavement.
Because there was Luhan, across the street, beaming at them.
//
- thank you for reading!
Xiumin/Luhan, side Baekhyun/Chanyeol
PG; 7,895 words
Maybe Luhan isn’t even a person, he joked with himself.
a/n: written for seeeno for runandgun! also thank you to my lovely Annie for holding my hand throughout most of the stages of this fic, draft to whole new draft to panicked writing to actually finishing :)
He’s doing it again.
This boy, Luhan, had just recently taken the seat next to Minseok’s in homeroom. It’d been empty throughout the year so far-they had only gotten a month and a half in-but now it was suddenly filled.
Luhan was quiet, Minseok learned, but he talked when talked to. The teachers addressed him, asked him to answer things for the class like any other student, and he would answer with a smile on his delicate features. He seemed so eager to learn, and eager to please. Minseok squirmed in his desk and tried to remind himself not to mess with his uniform tie whenever their physics teacher’s eyes landed on him. Watching Luhan’s face glow when he glanced up from his notes, eyes seeming to sparkle, Minseok knew that he wanted to capture that sort of confidence. It was fascinating.
At the same time, he wanted Luhan to stop staring at him when he didn’t think Minseok was looking.
--
“It’s so hot!”
Chanyeol cast Baekhyun a sideways glare. Baekhyun shoved Chanyeol’s arm off his shoulders because of that very reason. Minseok laughed and continued walking his bike forward, careful not to accidentally step in the way of the pedals. It was unnecessarily hot, as his friend had said, and Minseok wanted to ditch his uniform so badly.
“Stop whining,” Chanyeol retorted. Baekhyun gave him another push and they nearly toppled over into Minseok. The two of them were going to tumble into traffic some day if they weren’t careful. But Minseok kept laughing, worries aside.
Other than the sweltering heat, the air was nice. There was a slight breeze whipping through the air, fluffing the sides of Minseok’s hair into his face so that he had to squint. But it felt good, at least. Sweat drying inside a mandatory, white button up shirt. The sun threatened to fry the three of them on their way out of school, but at least the wind was kind, and it smelled sweet.
Roses, from the house they were walking past. And … something else.
“Hey, isn’t that the new guy?” Chanyeol asked, eyes moving across the street.
“Luhan!” Naturally, Baekhyun already liked him. Baekhyun was like a puppy in the sense that he loved anyone who gave him a nice pat on the head, or let him borrow a pencil for a quiz. Either of the two would suffice. Minseok prided himself in the fact that him and Baekhyun had built a friendship on legos and hide and seek for many years before the need for quizzes arose. Chanyeol, as well. The two of them were a bit of a packaged deal.
Sure enough, it was Luhan, a few paces ahead and on the sidewalk opposite the three of them, alone. They all recognized him despite the fact that he hung his head as he walked. He’d already thought the new kid was a little strange from the way he seemed to have little stars in his eyes to his smiles to the way he stared at Minseok now and then.
Honestly, if anyone else had done it, it would have given Minseok the creeps. But Luhan was a different, slightly infuriating story. A mystery.
He didn’t know why he was so irked at the fact that Baekhyun knew him, and reacted to him that way. When Luhan turned and eyed the three of them, a smile broke across his face-that stupid, beautiful face-and he lifted his arm to wave a little bit too enthusiastically, perhaps. Baekhyun was practically bouncing up and down. He wanted Luhan to walk with them, and Minseok wasn’t sure why that was suddenly the last thing he wanted.
The air was sickly sweet, and Luhan’s presence was like the sun in his midst. Overwhelming outside of the classroom, outside desks and furtive glances. He wanted to talk to Luhan, but he didn’t know how.
It was too strange. Minseok always knew how to talk to people. He was the Nice Guy in school, he talked to lots of people. Just not Luhan. Luhan was someone he looked at, and who looked back at him, and smiled at him.
Maybe Luhan isn’t even a person, he joked with himself. He made a note not to mention that to Chanyeol; it was more than possible that Chanyeol would just take him seriously, because Chanyeol was Chanyeol, which meant that he did not joke around with other-worldly beings
--
Everyone knew Luhan. Everyone in this school was nosy, and having a new kid meant there was a new person to learn and explore and try to befriend. New mind to climb into. Minseok watched from the sidelines; he wanted to be different. They flocked to him, but Luhan treated them all the same. The lines around his eyes when he smiled framed his pretty eyes the same way for each person.
He would spread himself thin if he kept this up, Minseok knew. Or maybe Luhan operated differently. Another thing to add to his fake what if Luhan isn’t human list.
Luhan was ‘from China’ he said. The accent came out, then, after someone asked him to speak Mandarin once before homeroom started and their teacher waltzed in to silence them. Minseok heard him trying to work out certain words under his breath for another five minutes or so, tongue caught somewhere between two languages.
The first time they spoke, Luhan asked him for an eraser. Minseok fumbled around until his pencil case would open properly and handed it over. A “thank you” came, politely, with a quick flash of nice, white teeth. It didn’t end there.
“You know Baekhyun,” Luhan continued.
“I do,” he smiled.
And it ended with Minseok asking Luhan to come get bubble tea with them after school. Luhan took a moment to think at first, gears turning, but he agreed, and his eyes twinkled. Minseok bit his lip and said, “Great!” before they were promptly shushed by their teacher. Minseok couldn’t help but feel nothing but excitement as he and Luhan both stifled their giggles.
--
“Do they not have bubble tea in China?”
Chanyeol was the one who asked.
The four of them sat together, circled around a table, drinks in their hands. Baekhyun was chewing on on a tapioca bead, slowly. Luhan only seemed more confused as he watched the muscles in Baekhyun’s jaw work. It was like he’d never seen a person chew before.
Minseok bit back a laugh as Luhan lifted his own cup and examined the bottom, where the bubbles rested. His brow furrowed. If he was trying to be funny, it was working.
“No, we do . . .” said Luhan. “I’ve just never had it?”
Baekhyun swallowed. “Wow, really?”
Luhan nodded. “There are a lot of things I haven’t had before, actually.” His eyes sparkled, again. “Especially Korean food. That, too. My family stays in.”
“We should take him out more often,” Chanyeol said, his eyes toggling between Minseok and Baekhyun’s faces.
“My mom makes great ddukbokki,” Baekhyun chimed in. “I’ll take you to my house sometime.”
The gratitude presented itself on Luhan’s face in a way that made him look as though he may cry, lips closed around his straw with a bubble caught in the middle of it. He let go and the three of them watched as his eyes sparkled at Baekhyun, almost magically.
Luhan was now, officially, part of their trio. With only a few kind words and some bubble tea, and shining eyes, they had morphed into a quartet.
Minseok felt warm inside, and he smiled wider when Luhan looked at him again.
--
“Do you like soccer?” Minseok asked one day, while their teacher had gone to procure chalk from another teacher after his own had mysteriously vanished.
Luhan paused, body completely still for a moment, before he nodded.
“I do too,” he said. “We should play sometime.”
A grin opened up on Luhan’s face. “That’d be great.”
Anything else they might have said was cut off as the door slid open again, and in came an angry teacher, fresh with new chalk and questions to pester them with. Lucky Luhan was prepared for everything, as usual, and Minseok slumped in his chair, trying to avoid being seen by the world.
Trying to avoid everything but Luhan.
--
It was a little infuriating how easily Luhan had permeated his mind; wormed his way in like a stray thought that kept coming back until it had become part of everyday life. It happened like second nature. They sat together in every class, ate lunch together with Chanyeol and Baekhyun once, twice, soon every day of the week. After school, they would run off to coffee shops, libraries, and all sorts of places to attempt to do homework and group projects.
Luhan was a fan of sweets. It was almost gross how quickly he would consume his cupcakes whenever they made a stop at a bakery on the way to Chanyeol or Baekhyun’s house for what was supposed to be a study session.
Today it was raining, and Minseok had to hold both their umbrellas when they stopped at a crosswalk, while Luhan wolfed down sugar in the form of a large cookie. Minseok’s was still sitting in his backpack as it had been for the last three blocks, untouched save for one bite that, thankfully, was his own work.
He’d probably end up sharing it later.
--
Sharing was exactly what happened. Luhan was ahead of them in their various math exercises, as usual, and bored while he waited for the timer to go off. Baekhyun and Chanyeol had a test the next day, and Minseok had been falling behind in stupid calculus.
Luhan had already had a few of the store-bought cookies that Minseok’s mother had bought for them, and he’d sipped his lemonade so that it was less than half full. Luhan was a monster when it came to treats. A monster. It was funny, though, to the three of them. But it was also slightly concerning. Minseok thought it was especially amusing when his mother’s face twisted indignantly at Luhan’s chocolate-smeared lips; his sated face.
He tore into the paper bag that housed Minseok’s snickerdoodle, asking permission first, and rested his chin against his other hand as he waited, picking mindlessly at sugar-coated goodness. Minseok would have frowned, but he didn’t.
He finally tore his eyes from Luhan when Baekhyun poked him and pestered him with a question about pre-calc. That, Minseok could help with. He could feel Luhan’s gaze on the top of his head, across the table.
--
A hard thud against the floor was what woke him.
Minseok sat up, in time with the beginning of his mother’s old music box, and dug his fingers into the ends of his thin blanket, terrified of some sort of intruder. But the music box was still going, oddly creepy at this hour when he’d always used it as a sort of comfort. His mother would pull it down from his top shelf for him-until high school Minseok had been unable to reach his top shelf without a little bit of trouble-and wind it up for him, too. But all Minseok could see how was some horrible creature come to murder him in the middle of the night. And it had knocked down Minseok’s favorite possession as well.
Switching on his bedside lamp, Minseok threw off the thin blanket and swung his legs over the side of his bed, feet connecting with the floor. As a sharp yellow light flooded the room, he could see that there was no one else in his room. The paranoia subsided.
He crouched down next to his bookcase and scooped the music box into his hands, closing the top and sighing. It hadn’t been broken. That was all that mattered. Its song was over, for now, until Minseok decided to open it again.
It was when he reached up to put it back into its rightful place that he saw him: the tiny person, only a few inches tall, trying to hide behind the shoebox he had placed up there. The shape was familiar, though small, and much too alarming for any sort of recognition. Minseok felt himself the drop the music box, the ornament bumping into his chest on the way down and slamming into his toe and making him crouch down in pain. He cried out.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, are you okay?” the four inch human asked. It spoke.
Minseok looked up, and saw the boy’s thumbprint sized head looking down at him over the ledge of the tall bookshelf. He rubbed his eyes a few times, to wipe away any blurred doubts. “Lu … Luhan?”
He lifted a tentative hand, and waved.
“I don’t . . . understand . . .”
Luhan sighed. “It might be better if you don’t ask questions.”
“You’re tiny.”
“You’re a giant,” Luhan snapped. “Have you considered that?”
“Really?”
“Maybe you’re part of a race of giants and I’m the normal one here,” said Luhan. Minseok could hear the falseness in his voice. He was aware of his size, that he was all of four inches tall, shrunk down to something that was even smaller than a doll. And he didn’t like being reminded of this very fact, Minseok could tell.
It was still weird.
“You’re in my house.”
“Can you help me down?”
“You’re in my house,” Minseok repeated, awed, and puzzled.
Luhan frowned, pulling the corners of his mouth down in an over-exaggerated manner. “Are you going to leave me up here?”
“How did you even get up there?”
“So many questions,” he fussed. “I’m a good climber. But I’m . . . scared of heights.”
“Yet you still ended up there.”
“I’m also very curious.”
“I knew that already,” Minseok chuckled.
“If you’re not going to help me-” He watched Luhan tie a long piece of string around the top bar of the bookcase. Luhan began to descend, and he made it a full foot before he stopped and whimpered, eyes on the floor. Minseok bit his lip, trying to ignore how cute it was to see him pout over something that seemed so little to him.
No matter how out of this world the situation was, Minseok could not just leave Luhan there overnight to try and overcome his fear of heights on his own. He came closer, extending his hand so that it was placed under Luhan’s suspended feet. “Let me help.”
“Oh now you want to help?” he laughed the force of it making him slip into Minseok’s palm. His shoes felt weird against Minseok’s opened hand. Luhan nearly tumbled over again, but Minseok saved him with his other hand, coming to his rescue.
This was too weird.
Really.
Weird.
“My classmate is sitting in the palm of my hand . . .” he said out loud, slowly. “This is interesting.”
“Can you put me down?”
He had a person in his hands, a real person that walked and talked and sat next to him in class, and answered unnecessarily difficult history questions without missing a beat. “Uh, sure,” he mumbled, crouching down.
Once he’d lowered Luhan to the floor, Luhan looked back up at him and said, “If you move your shelf a little to the right, I’ll show you where I’ve been.” He proceeded to disappear behind that very shelf. Minseok sighed. He was waiting for himself to wake up from this strange dream. As soon as he got to school, he could tell Luhan all about it and they could laugh together over how ridiculous it was and how Minseok was never going to eat right before bed any time soon.
Really, this had to be a dream. He dismissed the pain he’d felt earlier from the music box colliding with his toe and used his shoulder to help him nudge his bookcase over a couple inches. Light poured out through a hole in the wall, spilling onto the carpet. Minseok got onto his stomach and tried to look in. There wasn’t much room. The opening was like those mouse holes he’d seen in cartoons, but larger. He wondered how long that had even been there in the first place.
“Wow.”
“Ta-dah,” said Luhan, spreading his arms. “You’ve been awfully calm about this. Thanks for not squishing me. I’ve never had an incident like this with owners before.”
“How long have you been living in here?” Minseok asked, blinking, waiting for something to change. He could only fit his head in. “In my wall?”
“Four days, I think,” Luhan replied, taking a seat on the dollhouse chair that had gone missing from his little sister’s set about two days ago. Her tantrum had only lasted a few minutes. “The last place I lived in had a cat that tried to eat me.”
Minseok followed a trail of little footprints in the dust that Luhan left behind. “Well the neighbors have a cat, so be careful if you go outside.”
“I know,” Luhan said. “I managed to get past it on my way here.” He fluffed his pillow. It was an actual pillow, tiny, with floral patterns. Minseok wondered for a moment if it came from his sister’s dollhouse as well. She hadn’t thrown a tantrum about any pillows.
“Is that comfortable?” Minseok asked, eyeing the makeshift bed that Luhan had made, still possibly under construction.
“It’s better than nothing, even though I’ve had better,” his classmate replied. Classmate. Friend. Minseok remembered this suddenly, that this was how they knew each other. Luhan went to his school. Too many questions were busy buzzing through his head as Luhan was taking a dainty bite out of a crumb that Minseok assumed was probably from some bread in his mother’s kitchen. Luhan was staring at him. “Do you want me to leave . . . ?”
“No, I just . . . why here?”
“Why? Because there’s space in this wall and I’ve been able to take things without anyone noticing. Until now. You’ve probably noticed by now.”
“You took a chair from my sister’s dollhouse.”
Luhan fought the grin that threatened to spread across his face. “I did. Sorry.”
“She has other chairs,” Minseok chuckled. “Is that it, though? It’s easy to steal from us?”
Suddenly, Luhan seemed offended, his almost-smile falling away from his face. “No cats. No dogs. Nothing that wants to eat me. I didn’t know it was your house at first, honestly. But it’s more than about stealing, Minseok. This is about finding a home. I feel safe here; you’re my friend.”
“But don’t you have a home?” he asked, but where is your family?
Luhan’s hand rested on what appeared to be some sort of switch for the regular-sized lightbulb that sat next to his little fabric mattress with the floral pattern pillow. He’d done that himself, in four days. Minseok’s mind was spinning in its attempt to wrap itself around all of this. The fact that Luhan was living in his bedroom wall without him knowing for this many days was enough to throw him for a loop. “I’ll tell you after school tomorrow,” he said. “I know it’s your house and all, but I’m tired.”
The expression that graced Luhan’s delicate features, caught between gratitude and something else Minseok couldn’t exactly pinpoint, was enough to make Minseok say ‘okay’ and bid him goodnight.
--
Morning came, along with more questions than answers. It hadn’t been a dream. The first thing he did upon waking up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes was flip over and glance at his wall.
The opening was still there, but there was no light; no outward signs of Luhan. But if the opening was there, then Luhan was real, and only a few inches tall. Thumbelina sized, and everything. Minseok’s head spun into a headache and he knew he was going to need some of his parents’ strongest coffee that morning.
He kept his uniform tie loose and folded his blazer into his backpack as he went down the stairs, patting his sister on the head and reminding her not to try to stick her head through the bars or she’d get stuck. She stuck her tongue out at him but obeyed, following him into the kitchen and attempting to latch herself onto his leg instead.
“Minseok, you look pale,” his mother said over her shoulder. His father handed her a mug of coffee.
“Just tired. Studying,” he mumbled, taking a bowl out of the cupboard. But even cereal was hard to get down. He drank more coffee than he ate an actual breakfast. Luhan was still on his mind, and he ran out the door before his parents could ask what was wrong.
--
Seeing him again. That was almost stranger than what had happened the previous night.
It was almost like watching the sea part; their classmates, separating and scurrying around each other chatting and returning to their desks before homeroom began. And there he was, in his seat, third row from the back, to the left of Minseok’s desk, scribbling circles in his notebook, head kept down.
Minseok’s shadow over him as he set down his own books made Luhan lift his head.
“Hi,” he said first.
Minseok managed a small smile. It wasn’t hard. “Hi.” Luhan waited, staring. Minseok slowly lowered himself into his desk. “So.”
“Let’s do something after school.”
“Sounds good,” he answered a bit too quickly, perhaps.
“The usual,” Luhan went on. “But just us.”
“Perfect.”
--
“Where do you keep all your school things?”
“Books? Basement,” Luhan chirped through sips of his macchiato. “Or in a locker.” He broke off another piece of the scone they were sharing and popped it into his mouth. He was probably going to be the one to finish it. They were seated under a tree in a park about ten minutes away from their school. Baekhyun and Chanyeol had pouted in response when told they would have to do their own thing today. Sorry guys, we made plans. We forgot to tell you, they had lied.
“Do your clothes shrink with you when you change?”
“Thankfully, yeah,” he replied with a laugh. “That’s just the way it’s always been.”
“It’d suck if you kept changing back and forth without clothes.”
“Tell me about it.”
Minseok laughed with him this time. “This is really happening, right?”
“If you don’t believe me now I’ll poke you in your sleep until you acknowledge me,” Luhan said, narrowing his eyes. Something told Minseok that having little fingers jabbing away at his sides would either be painful or annoying in that awful, ticklish way. He wouldn’t be in a rush to find out. Minseok pushed the scone all the way into Luhan’s hands, like a peace offering despite the fact that there had only been peace between them. And confusion, but peaceful confusion.
“Thanks for not . . .”
“Not what?”
“Not throwing me away,” Luhan grinned. Minseok thought he looked terribly lonely for just a blip of a second, before the sun came out again, and Luhan seemed happy.
He wouldn’t ask about Luhan’s family, not yet.
--
Chanyeol’s arm came out of nowhere, hooking around Minseok’s neck. “Let me go, let me go I’m older than you, you have to listen to me,” Minseok struggled. Their heights made it difficult and Chanyeol was caught between leaning down and pulling Minseok up, but at the risk of straining his neck, he let go. The older card never worked with Chanyeol, who had always been too defiant and hyper for his own good. Sometimes he listened. Sometimes.
“Where have you been?”
“I’ve been,” he paused. He’d seen Chanyeol yesterday, in class, as usual. “With Luhan . . . ”
“Oh.”
“What? What do you mean by oh?”
“Just. Oh.”
“You know, I could have pointed out a long time ago that you’re always with Baekhyun,” Minseok said, clever smile in tow.
Chanyeol nodded once, eyes narrowing. “Indeed. I see.”
“Wait. No. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“We’ll see,” Chanyeol sang as he began to walk away.
Minseok groaned. “What does that mean?”
But Chanyeol was already around the corner and gone, hair bouncing along with him and when Minseok checked his phone for the time, he realized he had one minute to get to class.
--
Luhan’s desk was empty. Unoccupied.
Vacant.
There would be no Luhan today.
Minseok never saw Luhan in the mornings when he woke up. They had their own routines and they always waited until the school day started to greet each other. It was better that way; it was easier to pretend that Luhan wasn’t nearly pocket sized in his true form and that he wasn’t living in Minseok’s wall, and that they didn’t spend a good amount of time lying on Minseok’s floor, talking about nonsense. Whatever they wanted.
He hadn’t seen Luhan since last night, when he’d made tea and given Luhan tiny sips by lowering his spoon down to Luhan’s level as they sat on the floor, textbooks open.
Luhan had branded himself into Minseok’s daily routine, a near-constant presence.
But Luhan was missing. Minseok stared, and stared and stared, willing Luhan to appear again in his usual seat so they could pass notes and share erasers. And at lunch, the trio didn’t feel right as a trio again. Baekhyun frowned at his soda, and Chanyeol was trying desperately to get the two of them back to their normal selves. He’d even resorted to flailing his arms around.
Normal wasn’t normal with just three anymore.
--
Minseok had never gone home so quickly. He sent a text to Baekhyun that he wouldn’t be able to hang out with them after school anymore, and hopped onto the bus before it could buzz with Baekhyun’s reply. He’d been the first one out the door when classes finished, nearly tripping down the stairs in a rush to get out of there and get home.
His parents still weren’t home yet, and his sister was at a friend’s house until his mother was off work. Minseok threw the front door open after practically shaking his bag to find his house keys at the bottom. This time he tripped up the stairs, dropping his backpack on the top step and bursting through his bedroom door with a light shove.
During school he’d always kept it so that his bookcase would conceal Luhan’s hideout. He edged it aside again, as he always did when no one else was home, or when everyone else had turned their lights out for the night. He crouched down and then flattened himself to the ground, peering through the opening and looking around. “Luhan?”
“Ack!”
“Luhan!” Minseok rejoiced, watching his friend’s small frame tumblr from his bed, the fabric of his blankets blankets tangling around his body. “Luhan, what happened? Why weren’t you in school today?”
He sat up. “Can you give me a moment? I’m upside down.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Luhan flipped over and pulled the blankets away from his face, fringe puffing upward slightly. He blinked at Minseok, eyes bleary. “Hi.” He added a wave.
“Are you alright?” Minseok raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know. I woke up this morning and I couldn’t . . . change back to you-size.”
“Me-size?”
Luhan shook his head. “Couldn’t do it,” he sighed. “I couldn’t sleep in the first place. That usually does it. No energy.”
“When will you be able to change back?”
Luhan gathered up his blankets again and sat on the edge of his makeshift bed. “Tomorrow, maybe?”
“You should sleep some more,” Minseok said, exhaling into the floor. Over the weeks it had gotten less dusty. He wished he could have been a part of that effort, but he hadn’t. It was hard enough only being able to fit his head into this odd space in the wall. He decided then, as he watched Luhan flop back into his bed, that Luhan was slowly going to turn him into a very anxious person.
Tossed onto his own bed, Minseok’s phone kept buzzing.
Baekhyun would drive him nuts, too, if he kept this up.
--
Thunder cracked again, and Minseok could feel the floor rumbling through the legs of his bed, mattress trembling ever so slightly. The loud rumbling forced his eyes open for the third or fourth time that night. As he sat up to close the window he couldn’t help but notice the light in the corner of his eye, and the small shadow, elongated in the light coming from the hole in the wall, peeking out to say hello.
“Minseok?” Luhan’s voice called, tentatively. It was strange how far away he could sound, when he was so close. The light was put out soon after. His steps were quick, feet padding across the carpeted floor. Minseok leaned over the side of his bed. Thunder whipped through the air again, and Luhan tripped, letting out a small cry that almost sent Minseok flying out of his bed to help him.
“Are you okay?” whispered Minseok.
“I’m . . . fine,” he said. Luhan had his pillow underneath his arm. “Is it okay if I sleep down here?”
Minseok blinked a few times, eyes aided by. A flash of lightning lit up Luhan’s face for him as he worried at his bottom lip. “You can sleep next to my pillow.”
“Can I?”
“As long as you aren’t worried I’ll crush you in my sleep.”
Luhan hesitated for a moment, but another rumble shuddered through the floor, and Luhan wobbled. The thunder was what tipped him over, what kept him awake, and what frightened him. Minseok lowered his hand for Luhan to grab onto without another word, and his friend held onto his finger as he brought him up to the edge of his mattress, where Luhan set his feet down and traveled to the space next to Minseok’s pillow. There, he set down his own pillow and curled into a half ball, eyes still open; they searched Minseok’s face.
“Thanks,” he finally said.
“No problem.”
“Thunder feels like a mini earthquake when I’m on the ground,” he explained. He didn’t have to, though. Minseok smiled, lips closed, but content. Luhan seemed less afraid the next time lightning cut through the clouds and thunder lashed out at them. His eyelids didn’t flutter or shut, but he wasn’t shaking, and he didn’t freeze up with the sky flashed with light. His body was calm.
Minseok felt at peace, just because Luhan was. And so he closed his eyes.
“I ran away from home,” Luhan whispered.
“You what?”
“I ran away,” Luhan repeated. “I ran away from my family. My parents.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t like it when I changed, when I made things big, when I made myself like you. They smothered me.”
Minseok watched as he buried his face into his pillow, fingers digging just slightly into Minseok’s sheets. “They’re your family, though.”
“They didn’t understand. They thought all I was good for was stealing, for making things small. I could do things that no one else could do,” Luhan muttered. “I was their miracle child.” But I didn’t want to be, he must be thinking.
Someone that small could still be so full of responsibility; maybe he wished that he’d been born as any one other than himself. Being Luhan was too much for him. There were too many things he hadn’t done, and they were the same age-they weren’t children anymore, but Luhan had already missed out on so much.
“I wanted to go to school and have lunch with friends and have fun. I just wanted to be a regular kid,” Luhan sighed into floral patterns.
“There’s . . .” Minseok reached his hand out a little, but he stopped himself. “There’s nothing wrong with being a bit special. Being different.”
“But this-this is nice. I don’t want to go back to my old life, Minseok.”
I don’t want you to, he realized. “Don’t think about it now. Go to sleep.”
Luhan finally closed his eyes. “You’re right.”
There was another boom in the distance, the storm retreating from them. There was silence between them, and Minseok’s eyes scanned Luhan’s smaller, fragile frame. Even now, he could see more strengths than weaknesses in him.
He was much stronger than he looked. Stature meant nothing. Luhan could do things that no one else could; he was amazing. Minseok felt his heart swell, and it was then that he realized he’d been biting his lip. As he let go, he nestled into his own pillow and shut his eyes, following after Luhan into his own dreams.
When he woke, he felt a warm weight against his chest. His hand flew to it, to move it away or to know what it was. Skin. An arm, casually flopped over him. He lifted his head; he could feel little exhales against his shoulder, running up his neck, and when he turned he saw it. Luhan’s sleeping face, his body curled securely around Minseok’s, and he’d grown again.
Luhan fit nicely into his side. He felt almost as though it was okay to think these things, to like the way Luhan’s leg had ended up tossed over his own. The dollhouse pillow was long gone, and they were sharing now. It was good.
He flopped back down again, his own fingers against Luhan’s soft forearm. Just as he was about to close his eyes again, the alarm went off.
--
“If you’re so good at stealing why did my sister notice the stuff you took from her set?”
Luhan chuckled and bit into his sandwich he’d bought at the cafeteria. Minseok had given him both chocopies he’d packed into his bag for lunch, though. That was a plus. “Not my best work.”
A bag dropped into the space next to Luhan, soon replaced by Chanyeol, with Baekhyun on Minseok’s side. They all clicked into place. Baekhyun spent enough time fussing over how Luhan had missed so much by missing even only one day, and Chanyeol wanted to go somewhere after school. Was there ever a day when he didn’t want to? Baekhyun nodding along was only encouraging them.
“Can we just go to the library?” asked Luhan.
Chanyeol paused, arm slung around Luhan’s shoulders. “Sure thing!”
Minseok saw Luhan’s face falter, as he lowered his eyes to his sandwich again and tried to remember to smile.
--
Minseok was the one who went to get coffee, leaving the other three in a quiet, tucked away corner of the library that was surprisingly vacant today. Usually everyone wanted to sit there, by themselves, when there were four or five seats open depending on chairs. Something with lots of sugar for Luhan, and then cookies to go along with it. Something that would make him look less nervous.
When he sat down, he even tried nudging Luhan’s feet under the table, toes of their sneakers knocking together. Luhan barely fought back. He tried to smile, and he tried to bring that smile to his eyes to get Minseok to relax, but really, it only made him worry even more.
They went home the way they usually did, the two of them leaning on each other inside the skeleton of a bus, sometimes nodding off, sometimes chattering about nonsense, but Luhan was less talkative as compared to the usual Luhan. Sometimes that Luhan would never stop, unless he had food in his mouth, or Minseok or Chanyeol had found a way to fascinate him with their own words.
The next day was not much better. Luhan failed to take notes in any class. When Minseok glanced at his notebook all he would see were winding squiggles, aimless pen marks dragged throughout the pages. The day time brought nothing but nerves for Minseok, worried that Luhan would drift away. This distance was closed when they were home, and Luhan would bring a tiny pillow up into Minseok’s bed at night. It was nonexistent when they woke and Luhan was Tall Luhan again, their arms wrapped around each other.
But there was one particular morning where Luhan woke with tears in his eyes.
--
Then there was the next time that Luhan didn’t show up at homeroom.
Minseok kept waiting, eyes fixed on the door, kept away from the desk where Luhan should have been.
He never came.
--
Minseok hurried home, as he had before. The familiar sense in his gut twisted around and made him feel sick. It made his legs heavy, but he ran through the front door of his house like a mirror of the past, except this time his mother called after him, telling him to close the door behind him. “Straighten up your shoes! Don’t just leave them like that!” But her scolding faded behind him as he ascended the steps and sprinted to his room.
The doorknob was cold and cruel in his hand, as if it was telling him what was coming.
The hole in the wall was there, mocking him as he laid on the floor and peered through, no light to help him. He called for Luhan, again and again, and shined his phone light into the space, but there was no one there.
In fact, there was nothing there at all. No bed, chairs and pillows gone, miniature books taken away as well, and the lightbulb that Luhan had borrowed was smashed, bits of glass covering the floors where Luhan’s footprints had been, where his bed had been.
He was gone, and Minseok felt a horrible tightness in his throat.
--
Night came, and he was still alone. The space in the wall was like a vortex; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the opening, the threshold into a smaller world. But it was a world that he liked. Luhan’s world. Minseok thought that he would have liked to live in it, too, to be that small and tucked away in a corner of the universe that barely anyone was lucky enough to see.
He pulled the music box down from the top of his bookcase, where he had found Luhan all those weeks ago. How long had it been? The music box belonged to his mother once, but she passed it on to him. He played it for his sister sometimes, but mostly it just sat up there and collected dust; sometimes fingerprints pressed into dust and wiped it away, only to collect more later in silence. But Luhan had wanted to see it.
Minseok sat down on the floor, back pressed against the side of his bed, and wound it up until it sang from the beginning, chiming in his ear. The glitter on the edges of the box reminded Minseok of Luhan’s eyes. The sparkle that he possessed in those little windows, Looking down at his hand in the dim, yellow light from his desk lamp on the other side of the room, Minseok remembered the mornings when he’d woken up and Luhan’s fingers had been laced with his.
Nothing about it felt wrong. It was right-so right. He wondered if he’d ever get to feel that again.
A voice, clear through the silence, whispered to him. “Hey. Minseok.”
“Luhan?” when he whipped around, sure enough, there was his friend. His best friend. Four inches of height, standing in his window sill on the second floor of his house. “How did you get up there?”
“I’m a good climber, remember?” he stumbled as he tried to land gracefully on Minseok’s bed from the window frame. It didn’t work out so well, but the messy, unfolded blankets caught him.
Minseok rested his head on the edge of his mattress, setting the music box aside. “You were gone again. And your things, too. Are you moving?”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“My family found me,” said Luhan, walking across the mattress until he was in front of Minseok’s face, and there he sat down, little hands falling onto Minseok’s finger. “They made me pack all my things. I had to go with them. I didn’t want to.”
Minseok’s eyelids fluttered. He bit his lip and told himself that he couldn’t break. “I know.”
“Close your eyes for a second.”
“What?”
Luhan smiled. “Just do it. Close your eyes. Go on,” he urged, and Minseok listened.
There was a soft noise, like a deep breath but something that didn’t quite sound so normal and human. It sounded like the wind was passing through, and he felt it move around his face; it tickled his eyelashes. Another beat of silence passed, before he felt two hands grip his wrists. “Minseok.”
He opened his eyes again, taking in the sight of a fully grown Luhan once more, seated on the edge of his bed, trying to smile. Minseok leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Luhan’s waist and burying his face into Luhan’s stomach so he could feel it contract when he breathed. Luhan held him just as tight, fingers threading through Minseok’s hair. His thumb brushed against the skin behind his ear, soothing.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Luhan sighed, pulling him up so that he could rest his chin on his shoulder. His hands began rubbing Minseok’s back as if he was trying to memorize this feeling. “This isn’t goodbye. Well it is, just not forever. Okay?”
“Not forever. I think can deal with that.”
“We’re going to have to.”
They broke apart, Luhan’s hand lingering for a moment on Minseok’s cheek. He held back a sigh, and breathed slowly.
“I’ll be back, when I can.”
“Bye.”
He leaned down and kissed Minseok where his hand had been, lips ghosting over his skin, and then he was gone.
Goodbye.
--
University was approaching. The nervousness spread through his system and busied his mind with dorm life, what to bring, emailing his future roommates, spending as much time with friends as possible. Summer had engulfed them in sticky humidity once more, and Chanyeol’s hair was frizzy as usual, so he’d cut it short again and Baekhyun whined and complained about how much he’d liked the perm. Minseok found comfort in their stupid arguments. Falling back into their old routines without a fourth person was a little shaky, but they would manage. They had managed before-they’d been just fine-and so they could do it again, Minseok getting hooked under someone’s arm. Everyone was taller than him, even Baekhyun whose mother called him her little bug. Chanyeol had always teased him for that.
Summer meant summer routines, and since junior high that meant reverting to childhood, buying ice cream and running through sprinklers, and Jongin’s pool party smack dab in the middle. Sparklers came along with nearly everything so long as it was nighttime and there were fireflies in the air. Sometimes Minseok would get lost enough in his own laughter, his arm curled around a close friend, that he would forget his troubles. Luhan was a memory, but he should have been a good one. Minseok didn’t need to hurt because of him.
But the familiar curve of an arm around his waist would sometimes send him spiraling, until he would sit off to the side, soda in his hand as he watched Baekhyun and Chanyeol try to scare each other with sparklers.
University was coming for him, and so he tried to ignore the fact that he would be alone again.
--
“When Chanyeol and I go to college, we’ll live with you!” Baekhyun proclaimed loudly, inside a cafe that was already filled to the brim with noise. Everyone wanted iced Americanos. Not like Chanyeol or Baekhyun needed the caffeine, but they gulped it down anyway, eyes wide and excited. They were full of youth, and Minseok was always reminded of the fact that he was, too, when he was with them.
Thankfully he was with them most of the time, these days.
“You guys might end up going to a completely different school, though,” he told them, with a laugh.
“Nope,” said Chanyeol.
Minseok somehow knew; he knew that they were serious, despite their wide, goofy grins and how Baekhyun would remind him of a puppy when he was excited. They were young, though, and they could change their minds. But they’d all been young for a long time, and they’d always been together. They were the constants in his life. They’d never threatened to fade.
It’d been months since Luhan had vanished, and sometimes he wondered if Luhan had existed at all. Baekhyun and Chanyeol never mentioned him, though sometimes Minseok caught Baekhyun staring into nothing for too long, dark eyes deep and contemplative. He could have been thinking about anything, Luhan included. It was hard to hide the look that came when you missed someone. He knew that look pretty well, from trying to force it from his own face. Smiling helped.
“My house?” Minseok asked, after downing the rest of his coffee, warm as he gulped it down.
“Sure,” his friends agreed. Baekhyun shook the ice in his drink as they stood and headed toward the exit. The three of them were greeted by a gust of warm wind, pushing hair into their eyes as Minseok continued to hold the door open for a group of high school kids, from another school perhaps. He loosened his uniform tie as he let it shut, and nearly bumped into Chanyeol’s back as he started after them. Chanyeol had stopped short, grabbing Baekhyun’s wrist in the process.
“Guys,” he said. “Guys.”
Baekhyun peered over at Minseok, who was busy steadying himself after practically head-butting Chanyeol in the spine. “What?”
“Is that who I think it is?”
“Who?” Minseok pushed his disheveled hair away from his face, and moved around Chanyeol. His mother had always told him not to stand him or he’d never be able to see anything anywhere. Why did my son get my short gene, why why?
“Tell me, hyung,” Chanyeol said, grabbing Minseok with his free hand. “Look, tell me that’s not-”
“Luhan!” the name slipped past his mouth as quickly as his eyes began to sting. He could blame it on the wind, but that would be a terrible lie. The crosswalk lit up, and the three of them took off, running as fast as they could, dropping the remains of iced coffees as their feet pounded against the pavement.
Because there was Luhan, across the street, beaming at them.
//
- thank you for reading!