Of Shoulds and Can'ts [1/?]
Title: Of Shoulds and Can'ts
Pairing: Hunhan
Genre: AU, Drama, Romance
Rating: Nc-13 (for now)
Length: Chaptered
Warnings: Mentions of death, suicide, murder and Incest.
Summary: It started off with simple curiosity, grew and shifted to attraction to, eventually, morph to what will prove to be either perdition or salvation. Sehun is trapped in memories of which he can't let go while Luhan tries to label the apathetic look in the younger's eyes.
A/N: The story is not as bad as the warnings make it sound like. It's mostly just because of the mention of things that might be considered inappropriate by some. Furthermore, this is the first chap of my first ever chaptered fic! Woot woot! Hope you enjoy! And I love any types of comments so don't hesitate to give me feedback! xD
~Prologue~
__________________________________________________________________________
There’s no reason why Sehun, out of all people to spend time with, had agreed on hanging out with this deer boy. In retrospect it might have been a mistake, for that boy - Luhan - was way too curious.
His flow of questions and attempts, however, had slowly subsided when there were only short or no responses at all from Sehun.
They were in a coffee shop, drinking something called bubble tea surrounded by the steady murmur of quiet conversations. Sehun shifted, uncomfortable in such vivid place after having tried his best to hide away for the past months, while Luhan had settled on just observing. Propped on both elbows the deer boy leaned over the table, nothing but subtly studying his vis-à-vis with a direct gaze that was still not quite piercing enough to be a stare and a smile beckoning the corners of his lips upwards.
“So… You’re not really the talkative type,” Luhan pursed his lips and cocked his head the slightest of bits, “I like it, though. You’re different, all mysterious and stuff.”
For a moment Sehun rose his head and their gazes connected. If Sehun had blamed the reason for the other’s interest on simple boredom before so proved the sincerity in the other boy’s eyes him wrong. Pondering over why provided Sehun with no other satisfying answer so he just averted his gaze again, taking a sip of his bubble tea through the over-sized drinking straw.
“Do you like it?”
Another question but Sehun nodded affirmation. Even if strange at first, the sweet drink tasted fairly nice, funny with the bubbles bursting inside of his mouth. Luhan’s smile widened at that and the student leaned back into the cushions of his seat.
There it was again, the image of his brother that sprawled across the students features, melted into one person and Sehun’s heartbeat quickened.
“How old are you, Luhan?”
It was the first time Sehun had spoken up on his own volition but Luhan didn’t seem to pay much attention to it.
“I’m 22. Design and Arts student and I’m gonna be an animation technologist working for Disney.”
A nod accompanied the answer as if corroborating to his statement spoken with almost naïve determination. It was cute in a way and Sehun couldn’t help the soft smile.
Life doesn’t work out like that, though.
It was almost pity that arose within Sehun. Dreams rarely came true just as was life unpredictable with its sudden turns and alternations. Having a dream, however, was a good thing. It was refreshing with what amount of hope and pureness this boy was regarding the world as if it was his stage, as if nothing could ever throw him off. A sweet lie.
Another piece of information registered in Sehun’s mind.
22, 22…
“Wait, that means… You’re older.”
Luhan all but chirped, “Oh? Am I? Call me hyung then!”
Way too careless, this boy was. The world would swallow someone like him wholly in no time as soon as released from the protecting walls of education’s gates.
22.
“When’s your birthday?”
Luhan gave him a curious look. Sehun must have come across a bit less composed than intended or maybe it was the sudden interest displaying in the other’s questions after all the apathy that had Luhan wondering. It didn’t matter, though, for the answer had the younger freeze instantly and his eyes widen.
“The 20th of April. And you?”
. . . . . . . . .
Waves are crashing against solid rock, sending droplets of salty water cascading across the dark grey stone, washed smooth by the tides. Wind tangles in his hair, tugs at dark tufts and cotton clothing. The boy closes his eyes, concentrates on the cold wetness crawling under his clothes, the sound of an old war engage between wind, water and stone. There’s the low rumble of thunder, the humid smell of nearing rain, it’s the foreboders of a coming storm.
Suho takes a deep breath but it isn’t earth nor rain that he smells. It’s the pungent odor of incense and candles that creeps into his system and clutches to his insides like tar, evoking nothing but repulsion and the urge to vomit.
He’s not alone either. There’s a mass of people cloaked in black suits and dresses surrounding him. Like a carpet of black plague the family members and relatives stretch out across seats and benches. Some fingers twine in silent prayer, some eyes shut, others are fixated on the old priest in front. The old man looks sad as he recites verses in a steady string of well-practiced Latin that slip from his mouth. He’s the only one. All other expressions are made of painted marble.
The sound of murmured syllables stretches across high walls, contorts to a monochromatic sing-song that fits the eery atmosphere outside. A storm’s approaching. The wind bangs against big windows and doors in demand of entrance and Sehun can feel his skin crawl in anticipation. He’s there, his brother, on top of the cliff, waiting for the storm to approach. The boy can feel it, can picture it so vividly in front of his inner eye it hurts. He bites his lip because he can feel tears welling up. Though he’s not going to give in to the flurry of emotion, keeps it trapped inside like the giant building cages him inside when Sehun would much rather be out in the storm.
Every second trickles by in slow motion. The air grows thick and heavy on the boy’s shoulders while the priest’s mumble cuts his skin and the incense sucks the air out of his lungs. It feels like every cell of his body is contracting, shrinking and twitching. Maybe it’s the black box that stands in the middle, containing a young man called Oh Soohyun, Oh Sehun’s brother and hire to the family.
It’s all lie, though, for the man lying in the cushioned confines of the coffin is not his brother. He’s dressed in a black suit, contrasting vastly against smooth, pale skin. His hair is combed to the side neatly and his shoes are of shining leather. Just like the faces pretending grief the picture screams of silent insolence. It's not his brother they bury, it's a fabrication, a lie created to conceal what actually lies beneath: The truth that everyone has chosen to ignore. The real Soohyun is still there, outside, on top of the cliff, gazing at stars.
“Don’t be scared, son,” a hand on his shoulder, a gentle pat and a pitying smile,” You don’t have to fear anymore. It’s over, finally.”
“Everything’s fine now. Promise to be a good boy and everything will be fine. You’ll see, even some scars heal over time.”
A fleeting gush of empty promises and a threat spoken through the clenched teeth of a toothy smile.
“It’s on you now, Sehun. Don’t disappoint your father. We all believe in you.”
A conspiratorial wink, the glimpse underneath the fake mask.
“At least make it look as if you’re sad. We’re all relieved too but it’s better to just forget it all together. If you can, try to forget, Sehun.”
He's boiling, growling like the thunder and sea inside but he, too, is wearing a mask. Sehun wouldn’t show them anything, wouldn’t feed their imaginations and rumors just as he refuses to comply to the expectations. His mask is blank, a white canvas in a mass of black paint. Of course, he stands out but no one seems to give it more thought than necessary. The main attraction is still his brother, or much rather the puppet they have made out of him.
They take turns in saying goodbye to the dead. One by one they step up to the coffin in front, murmur a farewell as their eyes narrow and lips curl to form quiet curses. Sehun doesn’t watch but keeps his gaze lowered to the floor, so his father nudges him harsh against his ribs when it is his turn.
There's no mistaking in the look the family patriarch sends him, having Sehun’s blood chill and freeze from the inside with just one glance. Solemnly, the boy climbs the few stairs to the black wood containing the young man who looks like his brother. The younger’s lips twitch at the sight. It looks so wrong.
The hair should be a wild mess of dark tufts, his eyes should be creasing gently with an omnipresent smile and those blue tinted lips should be rosy and full of little snickers. Soohyun has never seemed like the elder, not in visual nor in behavior.
Sehun knew he stands there too long, is keenly aware of all the expecting stares, urging and pushing him to comply to what they tell to be right. But it isn’t. None of this is right.
So Sehun gets down on one knee, sighs softly at the seemingly sleeping figure of Oh Soohyun and leans in. The action is followed by a murmur that goes through the assembled crowd, all shocked gasps and the one or other screech when Sehun brushes his lips against the ones of his brother. Pure and gently as he displays the unmistakable truth to them.
It's almost funny how their faces of stone crack, shatter to thousands of slick pieces. Then the boy meets the eyes of his father, a vein protruding from his neck and the fury in his eyes the only hint to the extent of mortification and anger, the clenched fists at his side a quiet reminder of punishment.
It is a blessing to be outside again, the harsh wind tousling his hair much more of a comforter than the demanding hand of his father clenching his shoulder, forcing the boy into the appropriate position. Sehun has defied the unwritten rules. A fact that would have made him proud, if not for the sadness it evokes now. They weren’t allowed to touch, to cherish, to share the affection they hold for each other.
No matter how many times he had tried to explain, now Sehun knows, they all had never cared. The inner circle of the family probably even knew the truth but had blindly denied it.
It isn’t fair, isn’t fair at all. Soohyun didn’t deserve this and neither does Sehun. But who cares about what could have been.
Dwelling on “ifs” is a useless dream, one that can never come true, because the possibility doesn’t exist anymore.
It’s all about the “to-be-or-not-to-be” in the end. Either one is or one is not, or that’s what they have said.
In hindsight they were right.
On that day, Sehun starts to realize. The boy turns into a man as he stares down on the black coffin getting buried in mud. The wind’s fingers thread through his hair, stroke his cheeks and dry his tears as his body starts shaking uncontrollably. Fingers clench on his shoulders and he can feel the harsh warmth of a hissed warning against his ear but he can’t care less as they bury his brother under layers of mushy earth. Mid-spring’s fingers are icy against his skin and the nearing thunder tempestuous in his ears but he doesn’t notice any of it anymore.
That day, Sehun grows numb.
The 20th of April, a part of Sehun is buried together with his brother.
. . . . . . .
“Hello? Earth to Sehun?”
With a soft noise of question, Sehun let his gaze dart up to meet the one of his vis-à-vis who greeted him with a worried look in his eyes.
“What were you thinking about just now? Are you fine? You look really pale. Here, drink.” With that the elder offered his bubble tea and Sehun, still slightly dazed, accepted without much of a thought.
Once having taken a sip, Sehun placed the container back on the small table, averting his gaze again.
Why out of all days the 20th of April?
It was only a date, though, meaningless to any other person but him. Coincidence, it must have all been. There was no such thing as fate for someone who had lost belief in a brighter tomorrow.
“It’s getting late. I should go and get my train.” Sehun got up, eyes shadowed with grief and longing as he bowed stiffly “Thank you.”
Then, he fled.
The air was growing too thick, the noises too loud. He could feel his reality shifting, contorting. There was the faint but pungent smell of incense, lacing his mind in a thick fog. His vision started spinning and he all but staggered out of the place, overpowered by a sudden sickness.
There was a light breeze outside that swept the nausea away gently. Leaning against a tree on the park just across the street, Sehun took a deep breath, taking his time to calm down again.
Those times were over. He didn't need to fear anymore. He was living alone with the memory of his brother on the outskirts. He owned a small house that had been an observatory a few decades ago on top of a cliff. There was the sea, fresh air and grass and flowers and nature.
His father was gone, the remaining family thought him of being gone too. There was nothing to worry about no more.
Eyes closed, he kept on chanting alike in his head until his breathing evened out again.
Suddenly, there was a soft poke to his biceps and Sehun’s eyes darted open immediately.
“Here.”
It was the other, Luhan, holding out a bottle of water to him, concern marring his features. Sehun nodded thankfully and took the already opened bottle, taking an ample sip of the cool water.
“Thanks.” Sehun said as he pushed himself away from the support of the tree, not quite meeting the other’s worried gaze.
“And you’re sure you gonna make it home safe? You don’t have to play tough guy in front of me, you know. Tough guys are overrated anyways in my opinion.”
It was a bad attempt in trying to evoke a smile from the younger and Sehun couldn’t help the tug beckoning the corner of his mouth upwards. This guy sure was silly, a royal pain in the ass even but there was no way to deny him with those big, doe eyes and the slim, beautiful features, all tender slopes and soft curves. He almost seemed a bit too thin for his height.
“Don’t worry. I’ll manage.”
The words felt painfully familiar on his tongue, thick on his lips as they seemed to stick to his cavern like gooey glue. He meant to flash a smile but the bitter viscosity filling his mouth turned the expression lopsided.
Luhan just nodded, gave him the bottle of water back and suggested Sehun to get a checkup before the elder watched the other go. A frown was marring Luhan’s features, teeth worrying his lower lip as he turned to head off to another direction.
~. ~
The ride home was longer than thought but even the shortest of distances can seem like miles if one just craves to arrive strongly enough. So it was that minutes stretched to hours as Sehun watched buildings dash by the window, brick and metal slowly ceasing to be corn and greenery.
Gently sloshed the water in the bottle Luhan had given him to the shaky rhythm of movement from the train. Sehun watched as his thoughts traveled back to that boy.
22, Soohyun was going to be 22 this autumn.
At least something didn’t quite fit; the personalities.
While Soohyun had always been an intelligent thinker, Luhan seemed to be not as smart of a person but then again, they both had always been very bright. A kind of bubbling character that made both of them seem very childish on first glance. But Soohyun had always been very mature of a person despite the always positive, romantic way of thinking.
He didn’t know this Luhan kid well enough to make much of a judgment and maybe it was better that way. Better to simply forget about the boy who reminded him of the past so severely.
A hint of orange color suddenly sprang to his vision, having Sehun lean forward in his seat and grab the bottle. At first it seemed as if his mind had fooled him but as he turned the bottle a bit he could see it again.
There was a message written onto the inside of the etiquette, only getting visible if the contents were empty enough so that the fluid wouldn’t deflect the light in contorting manner. The handwriting was elegantly curved, with long strokes and big letters in orange which witnessed of the writer’s creativity. The message, once deciphered, had Sehun forget everything which had been occupying his mind just minutes before and he snorted lightly, an amused smile dancing across his lips.
“IN CASE: 010-8916-9921!”
~Chapter Two~
A/N:
010-8916-9921 is an example of a Korean cell phone number. It might belong to someone (I didn’t check, just picked some random numbers). Within the story, it’s Luhan’s number.
Pairing: Hunhan
Genre: AU, Drama, Romance
Rating: Nc-13 (for now)
Length: Chaptered
Warnings: Mentions of death, suicide, murder and Incest.
Summary: It started off with simple curiosity, grew and shifted to attraction to, eventually, morph to what will prove to be either perdition or salvation. Sehun is trapped in memories of which he can't let go while Luhan tries to label the apathetic look in the younger's eyes.
A/N: The story is not as bad as the warnings make it sound like. It's mostly just because of the mention of things that might be considered inappropriate by some. Furthermore, this is the first chap of my first ever chaptered fic! Woot woot! Hope you enjoy! And I love any types of comments so don't hesitate to give me feedback! xD
~Prologue~
__________________________________________________________________________
There’s no reason why Sehun, out of all people to spend time with, had agreed on hanging out with this deer boy. In retrospect it might have been a mistake, for that boy - Luhan - was way too curious.
His flow of questions and attempts, however, had slowly subsided when there were only short or no responses at all from Sehun.
They were in a coffee shop, drinking something called bubble tea surrounded by the steady murmur of quiet conversations. Sehun shifted, uncomfortable in such vivid place after having tried his best to hide away for the past months, while Luhan had settled on just observing. Propped on both elbows the deer boy leaned over the table, nothing but subtly studying his vis-à-vis with a direct gaze that was still not quite piercing enough to be a stare and a smile beckoning the corners of his lips upwards.
“So… You’re not really the talkative type,” Luhan pursed his lips and cocked his head the slightest of bits, “I like it, though. You’re different, all mysterious and stuff.”
For a moment Sehun rose his head and their gazes connected. If Sehun had blamed the reason for the other’s interest on simple boredom before so proved the sincerity in the other boy’s eyes him wrong. Pondering over why provided Sehun with no other satisfying answer so he just averted his gaze again, taking a sip of his bubble tea through the over-sized drinking straw.
“Do you like it?”
Another question but Sehun nodded affirmation. Even if strange at first, the sweet drink tasted fairly nice, funny with the bubbles bursting inside of his mouth. Luhan’s smile widened at that and the student leaned back into the cushions of his seat.
There it was again, the image of his brother that sprawled across the students features, melted into one person and Sehun’s heartbeat quickened.
“How old are you, Luhan?”
It was the first time Sehun had spoken up on his own volition but Luhan didn’t seem to pay much attention to it.
“I’m 22. Design and Arts student and I’m gonna be an animation technologist working for Disney.”
A nod accompanied the answer as if corroborating to his statement spoken with almost naïve determination. It was cute in a way and Sehun couldn’t help the soft smile.
Life doesn’t work out like that, though.
It was almost pity that arose within Sehun. Dreams rarely came true just as was life unpredictable with its sudden turns and alternations. Having a dream, however, was a good thing. It was refreshing with what amount of hope and pureness this boy was regarding the world as if it was his stage, as if nothing could ever throw him off. A sweet lie.
Another piece of information registered in Sehun’s mind.
22, 22…
“Wait, that means… You’re older.”
Luhan all but chirped, “Oh? Am I? Call me hyung then!”
Way too careless, this boy was. The world would swallow someone like him wholly in no time as soon as released from the protecting walls of education’s gates.
22.
“When’s your birthday?”
Luhan gave him a curious look. Sehun must have come across a bit less composed than intended or maybe it was the sudden interest displaying in the other’s questions after all the apathy that had Luhan wondering. It didn’t matter, though, for the answer had the younger freeze instantly and his eyes widen.
“The 20th of April. And you?”
. . . . . . . . .
Waves are crashing against solid rock, sending droplets of salty water cascading across the dark grey stone, washed smooth by the tides. Wind tangles in his hair, tugs at dark tufts and cotton clothing. The boy closes his eyes, concentrates on the cold wetness crawling under his clothes, the sound of an old war engage between wind, water and stone. There’s the low rumble of thunder, the humid smell of nearing rain, it’s the foreboders of a coming storm.
Suho takes a deep breath but it isn’t earth nor rain that he smells. It’s the pungent odor of incense and candles that creeps into his system and clutches to his insides like tar, evoking nothing but repulsion and the urge to vomit.
He’s not alone either. There’s a mass of people cloaked in black suits and dresses surrounding him. Like a carpet of black plague the family members and relatives stretch out across seats and benches. Some fingers twine in silent prayer, some eyes shut, others are fixated on the old priest in front. The old man looks sad as he recites verses in a steady string of well-practiced Latin that slip from his mouth. He’s the only one. All other expressions are made of painted marble.
The sound of murmured syllables stretches across high walls, contorts to a monochromatic sing-song that fits the eery atmosphere outside. A storm’s approaching. The wind bangs against big windows and doors in demand of entrance and Sehun can feel his skin crawl in anticipation. He’s there, his brother, on top of the cliff, waiting for the storm to approach. The boy can feel it, can picture it so vividly in front of his inner eye it hurts. He bites his lip because he can feel tears welling up. Though he’s not going to give in to the flurry of emotion, keeps it trapped inside like the giant building cages him inside when Sehun would much rather be out in the storm.
Every second trickles by in slow motion. The air grows thick and heavy on the boy’s shoulders while the priest’s mumble cuts his skin and the incense sucks the air out of his lungs. It feels like every cell of his body is contracting, shrinking and twitching. Maybe it’s the black box that stands in the middle, containing a young man called Oh Soohyun, Oh Sehun’s brother and hire to the family.
It’s all lie, though, for the man lying in the cushioned confines of the coffin is not his brother. He’s dressed in a black suit, contrasting vastly against smooth, pale skin. His hair is combed to the side neatly and his shoes are of shining leather. Just like the faces pretending grief the picture screams of silent insolence. It's not his brother they bury, it's a fabrication, a lie created to conceal what actually lies beneath: The truth that everyone has chosen to ignore. The real Soohyun is still there, outside, on top of the cliff, gazing at stars.
“Don’t be scared, son,” a hand on his shoulder, a gentle pat and a pitying smile,” You don’t have to fear anymore. It’s over, finally.”
“Everything’s fine now. Promise to be a good boy and everything will be fine. You’ll see, even some scars heal over time.”
A fleeting gush of empty promises and a threat spoken through the clenched teeth of a toothy smile.
“It’s on you now, Sehun. Don’t disappoint your father. We all believe in you.”
A conspiratorial wink, the glimpse underneath the fake mask.
“At least make it look as if you’re sad. We’re all relieved too but it’s better to just forget it all together. If you can, try to forget, Sehun.”
He's boiling, growling like the thunder and sea inside but he, too, is wearing a mask. Sehun wouldn’t show them anything, wouldn’t feed their imaginations and rumors just as he refuses to comply to the expectations. His mask is blank, a white canvas in a mass of black paint. Of course, he stands out but no one seems to give it more thought than necessary. The main attraction is still his brother, or much rather the puppet they have made out of him.
They take turns in saying goodbye to the dead. One by one they step up to the coffin in front, murmur a farewell as their eyes narrow and lips curl to form quiet curses. Sehun doesn’t watch but keeps his gaze lowered to the floor, so his father nudges him harsh against his ribs when it is his turn.
There's no mistaking in the look the family patriarch sends him, having Sehun’s blood chill and freeze from the inside with just one glance. Solemnly, the boy climbs the few stairs to the black wood containing the young man who looks like his brother. The younger’s lips twitch at the sight. It looks so wrong.
The hair should be a wild mess of dark tufts, his eyes should be creasing gently with an omnipresent smile and those blue tinted lips should be rosy and full of little snickers. Soohyun has never seemed like the elder, not in visual nor in behavior.
Sehun knew he stands there too long, is keenly aware of all the expecting stares, urging and pushing him to comply to what they tell to be right. But it isn’t. None of this is right.
So Sehun gets down on one knee, sighs softly at the seemingly sleeping figure of Oh Soohyun and leans in. The action is followed by a murmur that goes through the assembled crowd, all shocked gasps and the one or other screech when Sehun brushes his lips against the ones of his brother. Pure and gently as he displays the unmistakable truth to them.
It's almost funny how their faces of stone crack, shatter to thousands of slick pieces. Then the boy meets the eyes of his father, a vein protruding from his neck and the fury in his eyes the only hint to the extent of mortification and anger, the clenched fists at his side a quiet reminder of punishment.
It is a blessing to be outside again, the harsh wind tousling his hair much more of a comforter than the demanding hand of his father clenching his shoulder, forcing the boy into the appropriate position. Sehun has defied the unwritten rules. A fact that would have made him proud, if not for the sadness it evokes now. They weren’t allowed to touch, to cherish, to share the affection they hold for each other.
No matter how many times he had tried to explain, now Sehun knows, they all had never cared. The inner circle of the family probably even knew the truth but had blindly denied it.
It isn’t fair, isn’t fair at all. Soohyun didn’t deserve this and neither does Sehun. But who cares about what could have been.
Dwelling on “ifs” is a useless dream, one that can never come true, because the possibility doesn’t exist anymore.
It’s all about the “to-be-or-not-to-be” in the end. Either one is or one is not, or that’s what they have said.
In hindsight they were right.
On that day, Sehun starts to realize. The boy turns into a man as he stares down on the black coffin getting buried in mud. The wind’s fingers thread through his hair, stroke his cheeks and dry his tears as his body starts shaking uncontrollably. Fingers clench on his shoulders and he can feel the harsh warmth of a hissed warning against his ear but he can’t care less as they bury his brother under layers of mushy earth. Mid-spring’s fingers are icy against his skin and the nearing thunder tempestuous in his ears but he doesn’t notice any of it anymore.
That day, Sehun grows numb.
The 20th of April, a part of Sehun is buried together with his brother.
. . . . . . .
“Hello? Earth to Sehun?”
With a soft noise of question, Sehun let his gaze dart up to meet the one of his vis-à-vis who greeted him with a worried look in his eyes.
“What were you thinking about just now? Are you fine? You look really pale. Here, drink.” With that the elder offered his bubble tea and Sehun, still slightly dazed, accepted without much of a thought.
Once having taken a sip, Sehun placed the container back on the small table, averting his gaze again.
Why out of all days the 20th of April?
It was only a date, though, meaningless to any other person but him. Coincidence, it must have all been. There was no such thing as fate for someone who had lost belief in a brighter tomorrow.
“It’s getting late. I should go and get my train.” Sehun got up, eyes shadowed with grief and longing as he bowed stiffly “Thank you.”
Then, he fled.
The air was growing too thick, the noises too loud. He could feel his reality shifting, contorting. There was the faint but pungent smell of incense, lacing his mind in a thick fog. His vision started spinning and he all but staggered out of the place, overpowered by a sudden sickness.
There was a light breeze outside that swept the nausea away gently. Leaning against a tree on the park just across the street, Sehun took a deep breath, taking his time to calm down again.
Those times were over. He didn't need to fear anymore. He was living alone with the memory of his brother on the outskirts. He owned a small house that had been an observatory a few decades ago on top of a cliff. There was the sea, fresh air and grass and flowers and nature.
His father was gone, the remaining family thought him of being gone too. There was nothing to worry about no more.
Eyes closed, he kept on chanting alike in his head until his breathing evened out again.
Suddenly, there was a soft poke to his biceps and Sehun’s eyes darted open immediately.
“Here.”
It was the other, Luhan, holding out a bottle of water to him, concern marring his features. Sehun nodded thankfully and took the already opened bottle, taking an ample sip of the cool water.
“Thanks.” Sehun said as he pushed himself away from the support of the tree, not quite meeting the other’s worried gaze.
“And you’re sure you gonna make it home safe? You don’t have to play tough guy in front of me, you know. Tough guys are overrated anyways in my opinion.”
It was a bad attempt in trying to evoke a smile from the younger and Sehun couldn’t help the tug beckoning the corner of his mouth upwards. This guy sure was silly, a royal pain in the ass even but there was no way to deny him with those big, doe eyes and the slim, beautiful features, all tender slopes and soft curves. He almost seemed a bit too thin for his height.
“Don’t worry. I’ll manage.”
The words felt painfully familiar on his tongue, thick on his lips as they seemed to stick to his cavern like gooey glue. He meant to flash a smile but the bitter viscosity filling his mouth turned the expression lopsided.
Luhan just nodded, gave him the bottle of water back and suggested Sehun to get a checkup before the elder watched the other go. A frown was marring Luhan’s features, teeth worrying his lower lip as he turned to head off to another direction.
~. ~
The ride home was longer than thought but even the shortest of distances can seem like miles if one just craves to arrive strongly enough. So it was that minutes stretched to hours as Sehun watched buildings dash by the window, brick and metal slowly ceasing to be corn and greenery.
Gently sloshed the water in the bottle Luhan had given him to the shaky rhythm of movement from the train. Sehun watched as his thoughts traveled back to that boy.
22, Soohyun was going to be 22 this autumn.
At least something didn’t quite fit; the personalities.
While Soohyun had always been an intelligent thinker, Luhan seemed to be not as smart of a person but then again, they both had always been very bright. A kind of bubbling character that made both of them seem very childish on first glance. But Soohyun had always been very mature of a person despite the always positive, romantic way of thinking.
He didn’t know this Luhan kid well enough to make much of a judgment and maybe it was better that way. Better to simply forget about the boy who reminded him of the past so severely.
A hint of orange color suddenly sprang to his vision, having Sehun lean forward in his seat and grab the bottle. At first it seemed as if his mind had fooled him but as he turned the bottle a bit he could see it again.
There was a message written onto the inside of the etiquette, only getting visible if the contents were empty enough so that the fluid wouldn’t deflect the light in contorting manner. The handwriting was elegantly curved, with long strokes and big letters in orange which witnessed of the writer’s creativity. The message, once deciphered, had Sehun forget everything which had been occupying his mind just minutes before and he snorted lightly, an amused smile dancing across his lips.
“IN CASE: 010-8916-9921!”
~Chapter Two~
A/N:
010-8916-9921 is an example of a Korean cell phone number. It might belong to someone (I didn’t check, just picked some random numbers). Within the story, it’s Luhan’s number.