I scream out loud but only the answerless sunset continues to burn

[oneshot] remember me

flightlesswish — Thu, 07 Dec 2017 10:15:52 GMT

Title: Remember Me
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing: Kai/Baekhyun, Sehun/LuHan, side!Chanyeol/Baekhyun
Genre: Romance, Alternative Universe, Parallel Universes, Soulmate AU, Angst, Attempt at Humor
Word count: 35k words
Rating: PG
Summary: N/A

Click here to read

[chaptered (?)] unbreakable shadows [2/?]

flightlesswish — Sun, 01 Nov 2015 05:16:12 GMT

Title: Unbreakable Shadows
Chapter: 2/?
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing(s): Kai / D.O., possible future others
Genre: Tragedy, Hurt/Comfort, MAMA!AU
Rating: PG
Length: 900+ words
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

A/N: Hi! I know I said I wouldn't post the continuation of the latest drabble I posted in July, Unbreakable Shadows, but today suddenly I have this urge to post this. If you've been following my works and my posts you would probably know that I don't do chaptered fics and this piece will most likely be discontinued (which was why I posted just a short excerpt of this piece as a stand-alone drabble in the first place), but I guess we'll see. For now, please enjoy!

Chapter II: The Beginning

The door is slammed shut behind him. Kyungsoo can hear a click not long after and counts to five before he opens his eyes again.

Kyungsoo lives in a windowless room filled with the color white. On one corner, his bed is neatly made on one corner of the room. The books on his desk are neatly put. Basically, nothing’s changed since he left it an hour previously. It always feels so cold and lonely inside here, but Kyungsoo can’t say he likes to be outside any better.

This is mostly because when he’s out, they would make him do the things he doesn’t want to do.

Something that has to do with security and peace of humanity.

Something that has to do with blood.

Something that has to do with taking lives —

— and Kyungsoo has to do it all with his own bare hands.

Since he was seven, Kyungsoo’s life consists of waking up, eating, reading, and training in combat. Those activities are his permanent routine.

Another thing that has been permanent is a metal bracelet circling around his left wrist.

They put it on Kyungsoo the first day he came in. Kyungsoo remembers the tingling sensation when the metal made a contact with his skin even to this day.

This will cure you, one of them said softly.

Kyungsoo remembers looking up at his parents questioningly. Two pairs of cold eyes stared at him in return. They will cure you, Kyungsoo, his mom had said blandly, giving him a little push. There was something in her eyes that he couldn’t understand. Little Kyungsoo extended his hand towards the man and the bracelet was put on his thin wrist.

His parents left him with them not long after.

Kyungsoo never sees them again.

When he thinks about it in retrospect, maybe it is his fault. He remembers the look in his mother’s eyes when he showed her what he could do. He had slammed his hand on the wooden dining table when she wouldn’t get him the newest action figure he wanted and it broke down into two on his touch; smaller pieces of wood immediately shattered across the spotless floor.

Mom, what’s wrong? He had asked when his mother backs down, mouth agape, eyes opening wide.

There’s something in her usually warm, dark-brown eyes.

Later in the years he’s spent in his new house, he’d learn that it was actually fear.

There was crying. Lots of it.

He had no friends here. He realized he’s abandoned by his parents a year later. He’d ask for his parents every day before then, but of course, they never came. The people here always told him that they’d come back after he’s healed, that if he obeyed their instructions, his parents would come back for him — so he did. He obeyed every order given to him: he always woke up on time, trained hard, and at the end of the day he would cry begging for his parents to come back for him because it was so, so hard; but alas, all that came back to him was silence.

At first he believed that he was getting healed, because he barely could feel any power anymore outside the training room where they’d do something with his bracelet with their computers from inside a room, separated with his training room by bulletproof glass and firm walls. It took him two years to realize that they had been controlling his power with the bracelet. He had tried to pry it off, but he always ended up unsconsious and grounded for a week or more. After his fifth attempt, he finally gave up.

It had been like that until three years passed.

This was where Huang Zitao came in.

Zitao couldn’t speak Korean at all when he first came in. He was put in the same room as his at first, identical metal bracelet circling the other’s left wrist. Looking at Zitao back then was like looking at his own old self. Zitao would cry all day and refused to eat, shouting in language Kyungsoo didn’t understand.

They didn’t talk until a month later when Zitao had picked up some basic Korean. They haven’t put them in the same training room and scheduled different training schedules for both of them.

Kyungsoo had looked at him in the eye. What can you do? he gestured to the other male. Why are you here?

Zitao wasn’t crying anymore by then and looked quite surprised that Kyungsoo was talking to him. There was no fear in his widened eyes, though, which relieved Kyungsoo a little bit somehow. If Kyungsoo looked hard enough, there’s even a happy glint in those dark eyes.

A smile bloomed on Zitao’s lips. He put a finger on his own chapped lips.

Kyungsoo blinked.

The next time Kyungsoo opened his eyes, Zitao was already sitting across the room, grinning. Kyungsoo blinked again. “What the hell?” Kyungsoo blurted out and Zitao laughed. He shook his head and looked at the surrounding. His eyes fixed at the glass sitting on top of the desk. He got up and took it in his hand, and before Kyungsoo could say anything, he threw the glass right at Kyungsoo’s direction. Kyungsoo’s eyes widened in instant and his heart started to race; he had to move, to get away from here he’s going to get killed the glass was going to hit him fatally—

— it didn’t.

Instead of the glass hitting him square in his face, he found Zitao laughing on his spot, the glass safe in his hand. Kyungsoo blinked, paralyzed, unable to move.

“Time,” Zitao said softly after he’d finished laughing, putting the glass back on the desk carefully. Zitao approached Kyungsoo, hand extended, a smile on his face; an invitation to a life-long friendship. “I stop the time.”

To be continued?

A/N 2: This is it. I will continue this if I ever get an inspiration to write again; and believe me I really do want to write again, since I'm planning to take a hiatus from writing/the fandoms around the middle of next year until the end of 2017. For now, I hope you enjoyed reading this piece and do tell me what you think :). Thank you!

[drabble] unbreakable shadows

flightlesswish — Sun, 26 Jul 2015 14:09:54 GMT

Title: Unbreakable Shadows
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing(s): Kai / D.O.
Genre: Tragedy, Hurt/Comfort, MAMA!AU
Rating: PG
Length: 596 words
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

UNBREAKABLE SHADOWS

“Do you know this man?”

Kyungsoo looks up from the dusts he’s been staring at on the tabletop, eyes open wide. The man in a black suit over a crisp white shirt in front of him shows him a photograph, which looks neither too old nor too new, of the side-profile of a man. The question sounds funny to Kyungsoo, but he decides not voice it out.

The man in the photograph is leaning against the wall in what Kyungsoo observes as a desolate place somewhere, quite possibly somewhere most people would consider dangerous; his face straightly facing the camera. The sun is sinking behind him, its light falls warmly on the man’s features. He doesn’t look any older than Kyungsoo himself — maybe one or two years younger. His eyes are cold and guarded, expression gives nothing away; but then again it’s familiar, all too familiar. It looks like the photograph was taken incognito, which doesn’t surprise Kyungsoo at the very least. Kyungsoo slowly takes in the features of the man in the photograph further; every curve and every line that makes up a ghost of lights trapped in a piece of glossed paper.

“I don’t know,” he decides after a moment. “I might have seen him somewhere, I might have not.”

“Always so diplomatic, Kyungsoo,” the man smiles and takes the photograph back. He carefully tucks the photograph behind his suit close to his heart, safe and hidden, as a secret should be. “Do you think that would give you any advantage this time?”

Kyungsoo stiffens. “I am telling the truth.”

“No doubt,” the man agrees, the cat-like smile never leaving his face, and pauses. It’s as if the man’s waiting for Kyungsoo to speak, which he doesn’t. The man lets out a quiet sigh and gets up, smile faltering. He side-eyes Kyungsoo. “You see, this man really loves to play hide-and-seek. He’s really good at running and hiding which makes it harder to catch him. We don’t know what exactly he can do either which is rather disturbing, don’t you think?” He says, a frown making its way on his face. “Do you know why it is, Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo says nothing.

“I’m afraid we have to request for your assistance this time, Kyungsoo.”

Silence.

“Zitao has been misbehaving recently, I heard,” the man adds, almost like an after thought. “I think we can do something about that —“

Kyungsoo slams his hand on the table. Small cracks are formed around his palm. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare touch him.”

The man doesn’t even flinch. Instead, a small, lazy smile blooms on his lips. “So, the man.”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo hisses. “Yes, dammit.”

“Good,” the man clasps his hand, satisfied. He leans forward and extends his hand towards the other male. “And you shall?”

Kyungsoo eyes the man coldly. The man raises his eyebrows, expectant.

“I will get him for you.” Kyungsoo says, hatred in every word. “You will leave Zitao alone,” he emphasizes, eyes glaring daggers.

The man simply smiles and draws back. “Very well. That’s all I need from you for now. You may leave the room, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo is about to open the door on his way out when the man calls him again. “And, Kyungsoo?” Kyungsoo stops. “It’s control, Kyungsoo. This table is made from and by the best, you see. I’d rather you not break anything every time you come to visit me.”

Kyungsoo’s hand stiffens on the door handle. The implication behind the man’s words sends shiver through his spine.

This won’t be the last time.

There are others.

A/N: This was supposed to be the beginning of a one-shot that I started in April last year. I've written more than this, but I don't know if I would continue at this point, to be honest, so I thought I would just post this as a stand-alone drabble. I came up with a title just a few minutes ago. I'm in a massive writer's block right now; so massive that I'm starting to think that I wouldn't be able to write again. I don't know. I'm not sure. Anyways, thank you so much for reading this piece, it means a lot to me and I really appreciate it! :)

[ANNOUNCEMENT] on Translating/Using My Works

flightlesswish — Mon, 01 Jun 2015 03:54:41 GMT

Hi everyone!

It has come to my attention that several of my works have been translated into other languages; some of them with my permission and some others without. I don't mind my works being translated, really, but it would be really nice if you inform me first :D. So related to that, in this post I'm going to put some "rules" for any of you who want to translate/use my works in any way :). I'm not going to be very demanding, really, but please:

1) Leave a comment here if you want to translate/use my works, or you can inform me on the comment section of the original post, via livejournal's private message, tumblr's ask, or my ask.fm;
2) If you want to use my work(s) for purposes other than translating, please state your purposes clearly;
3) Give the proper credit in your translation(s)/post(s);
4) Link back to the original post(s) in your translation(s)/post(s);
5) Give me the link to your translation(s)/post(s), whether it's on the comment section of the original post, via livejournal's private message, tumblr's ask, or my ask.fm;
6) These rules don't apply if you want to simply recommend my works on other sites.

Originally, I didn't want to post these rules because I don't want to come off as... pretentious, for the lack of better word, but it has been bothering me so much when I found one of my works being translated and the translator didn't inform me first, then didn't link back, and didn't credit me properly that his/her readers even thought that the fic was originally written by him/her. I didn't message the translator because I didn't want to make a scene, and I think she/he had taken down the post anyway without my telling him/her; but I would be lying if I say it didn't upset me.

I do enjoy writing fan fictions but I also do spend quite some time on finishing my fics. I don't use beta readers and such, so I do all the re-reading and revising errors parts before I post my fics; though I realise I might still miss some errors even after I have posted them online. The fastest I can get a fic done is usually a week, and many of my works take months to finish. So it is a time-consuming process and sometimes it can get quite frustrating.

I know I can't impose these rules on all of you, and some people might just continue translating/using my or other authors/artists' works without giving proper credits, but at least I've given my ~~rant~~ opinion on how I feel about this matter. Please don't take other people's works without their consent and claim them as your own. It's not cool at all.

I am truly grateful that some of you read my works and leave kind comments, and I do feel happy beyond words that some of you want to translate my works so that my works can be read by even more readers that speak your language(s). I know I am not the best writer and am lacking in many aspects. I honestly can't thank my readers enough for giving my works a chance by deciding to read them. All in all, I hope you can respect my decision to put these "rules" up, and I hope you can understand that I mean no... harm. I guess. lol.

Lastly, I hope you enjoyed reading my works and please look forward to my new works in the future. Thanks! :)

[oneshot] Nulla

flightlesswish — Tue, 07 Apr 2015 07:37:43 GMT

Title: Nulla
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing(s): Chanyeol-centric, Chanyeol / Baekhyun, mentions of Baekhyun / Taeyeon, Sehun / Lu Han
Genre: Tragedy, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3,500~ words
Warning(s): Chose not to use warning(s).
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

NULLA

Sometimes when Chanyeol closed his eyes, he would see a field of sunflowers on a warm summer day. He would be gazing at the sun, floating in the midst of fluffy cotton-white clouds painted on a divine canvas of blue skies. He would lay himself down and he would be able to feel the warmth, rushing all over his body; like he’s being engulfed in a thick, fluffy, comfortable blanket during a winter in the safety of his bedroom back home.

Like a lover’s embrace.

(Almost.)

One of those days, Chanyeol wished he wouldn’t ever have to open his eyes again. It’s good enough for him to stay still like that; relaxed, warm, alone, and very much painless. He didn’t have to pretend. He simply had to be still and enjoy the feel of gentle wind nursing him off to sleep. He didn’t have to smile until his cheeks feel hurt, he didn't have to laugh when all he wanted to do was to curl up in his bed, and simply breathe.

And maybe, just maybe, he would cry.

Just a little bit.

Just a little crack; a minuscule break in his heart.

But then he would start counting, and around four hundred and thirty-three, reality would always pull him closer and closer; forcefully prying his eyes open to make him look at it straight in the eye, without fail, over and over again.

It started as a stunt.

An act; a pretend.

Calculated steps, words, and touches.

It will be a good way to get more fans in the fandom, the management had said at first. Remember Yunjae, Yoosu, Eunhae, and so on? Look at how legendary they are. Their merchandises sold millions.

Temptations, temptations.

Park Chanyeol and Byun Baekhyun were nineteen then; wide-eyed hopefuls, very much eager to get a taste of fame. It would be so easy, they both thought back then. So, so easy.

At first was shyly interlocked fingers.

Then came the hugs and gentle caresses.

And finally, of course, the kiss.

Baekhyun’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. His smile lighted up the room, the stage, everything; and many people found themselves smiling along when they saw it. Chanyeol had captured the image many times; in glossy papers, his phone, his mind, and eventually his heart. It’s inevitable, it really was. They lived together, slept in the same room, and of course — the act.

The fall didn’t happen quickly. It slowly built up with each touch, each word, each gaze. It happened so slowly he didn’t even realise the beginning, or the moment he eventually fell. All he knew was one day, when they’re laying on the bed in one of the hotels in London, as Baekhyun curled up in his sleep, fingers clutching the hem of Chanyeol’s shirt loosely, Chanyeol realised how much he wanted to just stay like that. It was very quiet and Chanyeol could only hear his heart beating faster, then slower, until it’s so slow and painful; how his heart clenched as the realisation slowly, finally, dawned upon him. Chanyeol took a deep breath and starting to count.

Baekhyun fluttered his eyes open sometime between Chanyeol’s two hundred seventy-fifth and two hundred seventy-sixth count, eyes still heavy with sleep. The time read four in the morning and maybe Chanyeol could blame it on that; how it’s still early, how he wasn’t thinking straight just like any other human being at such ungodly hour, maybe he could blame the way he leaned in and sealed the other’s soft lips with his on that.

It had taken him two years.

It took him two whole years to realise just how hard he had fallen for Byun Baekhyun.

Chanyeol kept on counting, but he couldn’t really wake up when he’s already awake, could he?

It was hard to breathe.

The tingling sensation on his cheek felt numb after a while, but his heart still felt as if it had been stabbed until it bled raw. Every gulp of oxygen he took flowed through his veins like small sharp knives, all aiming for his battered heart; all at once.

The sound of the slammed door kept on ringing in his ears, even long after. A drop of tear, and reality shook him. It was real. He had kissed Baekhyun, and now Baekhyun was gone. He had given his heart and didn’t receive anything but a bitter, painful, wordless rejection in return.

He took a sharp intake of breath and choked.

One, his trembling lips let out. Two. Three, four, five, six —

He finally let himself broke down at twenty one.

The distance between them became as clear as a crystal glass after a few days of subtle stretch. Chanyeol turned a blind eye and decided to plaster a thousand of smiles on his painted face, because he would not let this break him. He would not.

Not again.

Sometimes he would steal a glance at Sehun and his shy touches on Lu Han. Stolen kisses and caresses when the lights were out, where nothing else mattered but the two of them. It was harder when it’s not an act, sure, because it’s hard to calculate just how many times you could show your affection while the both of you didn’t want to care and just want to do it countless of times; but Chanyeol couldn’t help but to feel envious.

He’s tired of acting.

He’s tired of pretending.

A few times he would stand still after a performance and simply takes the ocean of lights in front of him in. The cheering crowds, shouting and chanting words he could barely comprehend with all of those mixed loud sounds. More often than not it would leave him speechless, eyes widened, as if it took him by surprise that these lights, these people, were there for him. And then a smile would make its way to his lips, and the crowds would scream even louder.

He loved this too much.

And then he would shift his gaze to his left, and the smile that lighted up the world would greet him, always greet him, warm like a little piece of home, and at that moment Chanyeol would blink; as if he were capturing the smile like a camera would.

I love you too much.

A week after Kris left the band, when he got a much-deserved, long-awaited week off, Chanyeol decided to learn how to swim. It’s at a private indoor pool somewhere in Seoul. He would swim for two whole hours at a time, and he eventually learnt how to swim deeper and longer.

One of the first things he learned was how to breathe.

The world’s record for the longest time for holding breath underwater is twenty two minutes, his personal trainer had told him. A Dane did it just a few months after your debut.

Twenty two minutes, Chanyeol echoed. One thousand and three hundred twenty seconds.

Yeah, the trainer smiled. An average person usually can hold it up to two minutes, though. Think you can do it?

Chanyeol eyed the calm pool in front of him and smiled slightly. I can try.

After stretching his body for a bit, Chanyeol inched closer to the edge of the pool. One thousand and three hundred twenty seconds, he repeated mentally. One thousand and three hundred twenty seconds.

He took a deep breath.

One.

I’m seeing Taeyeon-noona, Baekhyun blurted out one night when they’re laying in their respective beds, absent-mindedly staring at the ceiling. The news will be out tomorrow.

Oh, Chanyeol replied; numb. Okay.

Yeah.

Silence.

Don’t think badly of me, Baekhyun broke the silence quietly. This is for the best.

Chanyeol’s next word trotted out from his mouth before he could stop it. Whose?

Yours. Mine. The both of us, Baekhyun answered after a brief silence.

How could you know? I… how could you say that—

Chanyeol… please. Baekhyun interrupted, his voice weary, and Chanyeol hated himself for it. He hated himself for making Baekhyun act like this. He hated himself for making Baekhyun choose. He hated himself for making Baekhyun eventually made the decision. Please.

Chanyeol hated himself to pieces.

Okay, Chanyeol responded hoarsely. Okay.

I’m sorry… Baekhyun whispered, and Chanyeol thought he could hear a drop of tear. I really am, yeol. A pause. Don’t leave me?

Chanyeol froze for a moment before averting his gaze to the shorter man.

A pair of eyes full of tears were gazing straight back at him.

Please?

Chanyeol’s eyes, surprisingly, softened. Do you know how selfish that sounds?

I just… Baekhyun choked. Don’t want to lose you. You mean a lot to me.

Chanyeol opened his mouth to answer, but no more words were spoken that night.

The water felt cold against Chanyeol’s pale skin.

Yiruma’s Chaconne is playing from the mini speakers he had brought with him. It was too quiet for him, alone in the pool. The gentle tunes helped him to relax, at least as relaxed as he could then.

He leaned his back on the cold tiles at the edge of the pool and shifted his gaze toward the ceiling. He wondered if the stars were scattered on the skies tonight. He wondered whether they would accompany the moon longing for the sun yet again, another fruitless attempt, tonight. He lowered his gaze to the water surrounding him. It was shoulder-high. He smiled as he splashed the water slightly. The moon had the stars, and Chanyeol had the water. It’s funny how silly it sounded, and yet how much it was actually true. Chuckling slightly, he shook away the things happened that day, the past two years, and took a lungful of air. Closing his eyes, he sank himself down closer to the earth and started counting.

One hundred and fifty six.

Lu Han left them one quiet Thursday morning.

Sehun was quiet the whole day. He didn’t yell, cry, laugh — nothing.

Chanyeol found him later in the evening at the balcony, hands firm on the railing, dark-brown eyes fixed on the shattered stars above. Chanyeol quietly slipped in beside him and tilted his head upwards slightly.

Penny for your thoughts, Chanyeol started casually. The answer wasn’t immediate, and Chanyeol let the sound of Seoul’s evening life fill in the silence for them. It was oddly relaxing.

I wonder… Sehun trailed off after a few moments of silence. I wonder how heartbreak feels like.

Chanyeol hummed. He drummed his fingers on the cold railing; five knocks. Have you ever been drowning, Sehun?

Sehun shook his head. Chanyeol smiled, thin, and began untangling the strings of memories stored in his brain. He eventually stopped at one summer day when he was about seven, and all he could see was blue blue blue. He remembered the slip. He remembered the cool water of the Han river. The shrill cry of his sister. The dreadful feeling of not being able to breathe.

It’s like having all of the air in your lungs forcefully pulled out, Chanyeol continued. And when you realise can’t breathe and start struggling, it would only weigh you down. He paused. It’s like being stabbed in the heart with thousands of sharp knives, and the one throwing the knives is someone you love the most. It’s like that.

Sehun exhaled. I see.

The gentle breeze brushed their bare skin, making Chanyeol shudder a little. The night had grown noticeably colder.

I was thinking… Sehun paused. Now that I have become many things… I want to become nothing.

Nothing?

Yes. Nothing.

Why?

Because with being nothing I wouldn’t have to be like this… Sehun shook his head. I wouldn’t have to feel like this…

Like what? Chanyeol asked, turning his full attention to the slightly shorter male.

Sehun lowered his gaze and averted his eyes to meet Chanyeol’s; a small, sad smile playing on his lips.

Like drowning.

It’s getting really tiring.

Really, really, tiring.

Chanyeol threaded through the water as Chopin’s Étude No. 3 Op. 10 No. 3 in E was playing. He kept on swimming, to the end and back, again and again.

Again, and again.

How does someone get zero, hyung?

What… Joonmyun stopped fidgeting with his shirt and looked at Chanyeol, eyebrows raised. Why would you ask that?

Chanyeol offered him a shrug and a grin. I don’t know, it just popped out in my mind.

Hmm… let’s see. Joonmyun hummed, tapping his chin with one of his long fingers absent-mindedly. I remember my teacher saying that if you divide zero with any number, you’ll always get zero.

I see. But how do you get the zero?

What?

How do you get the zero to divide with the number?

What… You get the zero from… Joonmyun frowned. Nothing, I guess.

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows. Nothing?

Yeah, nothing.

Has someone ever counted to zero?

The perplexed tone in his trainer’s voice could be heard even from the other side of the pool. To zero?

Yeah. Chanyeol nodded, looking up, and simply breathed. To nothing.

That’s… I don’t know. People usually try to break the limit rather than to limit themselves.

Chanyeol smirked and swam his way to the other side. There, the trainer was already waiting for him with a towel in one hand and a bottle of mineral water in the other.

I think it’s important to limit oneself, Chanyeol said after emptying the bottle, hands toweling his messy wet hair. Breaking the limit is too overrated.

A raised eyebrow. You think so?

Yeah. It won’t do to lose control, now, will it?

The trainer chuckled. I guess.

Chanyeol shot him a grin and tilted his head slightly to the side. You should go first. I’m gonna shower for a bit and then head home.

You sure?

Yes.

Okay then, the slightly older male shrugged. I’ll see you again next week?

Chanyeol simply smiled.

The smile faded as soon as the door was shut.

Chanyeol went to a small, old photo studio near his old neighbourhood the next day. He was wearing a set of formal attire: a black three-piece suit with a pressed white shirt peeking underneath, all buttons up, complete with a jet black tie. The black pants complemented his long legs nicely, with black dress shoes. For this occasion, he had dyed his hair back to black.

The old man he had known from his childhood was still running the studio, now assisted by his son. Chanyeol gave them a warm smile and greeted them, shaking their hands gently as he elaborated his wish to get his photograph taken.

But you can have your photographs taken by the best in this country, the old man, Mr Kim, said, looking rather perplexed by Chanyeol’s request. Why come back here?

You’re still much better, Mr Kim, Chanyeol grinned sheepishly, hand unconsciously reaching for the back of his neck. I don’t want any elaborate poses and stuff. Just a simple photograph.

Mr Kim smiled. Alright then. Please come this way.

Chanyeol chose a simple dark-brown background and sat down on the wooden stool provided in the middle. Fixing his hair and attire a bit, he scanned around as Mr Kim was getting ready. This room must have witnessed many memories getting captured. Happy ones, awkward ones, and maybe even sad ones. Chanyeol wasn’t really sure which one he was about to take, but he knew it wouldn’t be a happy one. Quite an irony, considering his nick name was the Happy Virus.

Alright, let’s begin. Mr Kim said as he stood behind the camera.

Yes, Chanyeol nodded and stared right at the camera, a thin smile on his lips. He evened his breathing, fluttered his eyes shut, and stayed still for the next cue.

One!

Two!

Three!

He opened his eyes.

When Baekhyun came to the dorm, three days later, he was surprised to see a new photo frame sitting on their shared desk in their bedroom. It was of Chanyeol, all neat and handsome, eyes staring softly at the camera; the corners of his lips rose slightly to play a small, soft smile that was rare from the tall man. It was always more when it came to Chanyeol; wider smile, more playful smirk, much louder laugh. Baekhyun found himself smiling at the rare image and wondered when the younger man had taken the shot. He didn’t remember seeing Chanyeol in such attire with such hairstyle. It reminded him of Chanyeol’s photo from his high school days, the one he had shown Baekhyun when they hadn’t debuted, only with more maturity.

Speaking of the man, Baekhyun hadn’t heard of him for the last ten hours or so. Frowning, he checked his phone to find no new texts or calls from the said man. He tilted his head slightly, pensive, and bit his lip. Should he call? Will he even pick up…

Shaking his head, Baekhyun hit the first number on his speed dial.

The number you are calling is not active or out of the service area, please call again or leave your message after —

Chanyeol fluttered his eyes open as he felt the water getting colder on his skin. There’s a crescent moon hanging in the sky tonight, he had observed before coming into the pool. It was really beautiful, and he’s glad to see a divine copy of the smile he loved the most on a sky full of stars.

He hadn’t felt this peaceful in a long time.

Sitting on the edge of the pool was a picture of their latest group shot. He reached out to it and lifted his arm, eyes gazing at the now wet picture fondly. Good times, good times, he thought. His eyes lingered at the smiling boy standing on the far right; flawless straight, white teeth bare as his eyes turned into a pair of inked crescent moons. And then there’s the boy at the opposite side, hair dyed a mix of brown, silver, and purple, straight white teeth showing as the boy smiled oh so widely. The boy winked his big eyes, posing in a playful pose with a peace sign raised near his eye. Chanyeol drew the picture closer and carefully moved his finger to cover the winking boy out of the picture, and zoomed the picture out again. He smiled.

Nine was indeed a perfect number.

One thousand and three hundred twenty.

Baekhyun let out a long sigh. No matter how many times he called the rapper of the group, Chanyeol wouldn’t pick up. The last call had been the ninth, and Baekhyun started to feel uneasy. Chanyeol had never gone this long with his phone off. He absent-mindedly walked to Chanyeol’s bed and sat down, fingers rapping on the neatly-made bed. He took in the surrounding and finally noticed a neatly folded piece of paper sitting on the pillow. Eyebrows raised, he took it and unfolded the plain white paper.

I’m sorry, the familiar writing began the first out of the mere two sentences, and Baekhyun froze. He instantly felt dread creeping up beneath his skin. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

A moment later, when he’s finally able to move again, he shakily stood up. Crushing the truth in his hand, Baekhyun ran as fast as his feet could.

I love you.

One thousand and two hundred fifteen.

Sometimes when Chanyeol closed his eyes, he would see a field of sunflowers on a warm summer day. He would be gazing at the sun, floating in the midst of fluffy cotton-white clouds painted on a divine canvas of blue skies. He would lay himself down and he would be able to feel the warmth, rushing all over his body; like he’s being engulfed in a thick, fluffy, comfortable blanket during a winter in the safety of his bedroom back home.

Like a lover’s embrace.

(Almost.)

One of those days, Chanyeol wished he wouldn’t ever have to open his eyes again. It’s good enough for him to stay still like that; relaxed, warm, painless, and very much alone. He didn’t have to pretend. He simply had to be still and enjoy the feel of gentle wind nursing him off to sleep. He didn’t have to smile until his cheeks feel hurt, he didn't have to laugh when all he wanted to do was to curl up in his bed, and simply breathe.

And maybe, just maybe, he would cry.

Just a little bit.

Just a little crack; a minuscule break in his heart.

But then he would start counting, and this time he counted down to zero.

Around one thousand and one hundred forty, Chanyeol cracked his eyes open to see nothing had changed. He’s still at his meadow of solace, and this time, when he looked more carefully, there’s a familiar silhouette of the boy with the smile he treasured the most standing in the middle of the meadow. His long, slim fingers were wrapped around a few freshly-picked sunflowers; his lean, scintillant, beautiful figure framed perfectly by a halo of sunlight.

Smiling, Chanyeol raised himself from the ground and finally exhaled.

A/N: I started this last month and meant to write something under 1k, but it somehow got this long. It's been awhile since the last time I wrote Chanyeol / Baekhyun as the main pairing in my fic, I think, so here you go. I really enjoyed writing Chanyeol in this, to be honest. I was just browsing through his tag on tumblr and found some beautiful black and white pics of him and ended up getting so many feels from it lol.

Joonmyun made a cameo in this because I realised that I didn't mention him at all in my last fic. ~~Oops.~~ I really, really like his Pathcode teaser ;-;.

I wrote this while listening to TK from Ling Tosite Sigure's Unravel (Acoustic Version), EXO's My Answer, and Yoon Hyun Sang's Always be with You. I think Unravel (Acoustic Version) fits this fic the best, so do try reading this fic while listening to the song! :) Googling for the song may spoil the ending of Tokyo Ghoul Root A if you're following the anime and haven't watched the final episode yet, though. Great manga, great anime, great song.

Anyway, the boys' third anniversary is just in a few hours. Time sure flies. I remember getting excited waiting for my MAMA albums to come, and now three years later I'm waiting for my EXODUS. ~~Sehun only gets more and more gorgeous with time istg what has he been eating, seriously.~~ I wish them the best of luck!

You can also read this on Ao3.

Finally, the title means Zero / Nothing. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you all liked it!

[oneshot] a cadenza of flowers [iii/iii]

flightlesswish — Sat, 21 Feb 2015 07:03:38 GMT

Part II

Lu Han opens his eyes to harsh lighting of a painfully familiar room. He blinks and tries to readjust his vision. He tries to move his hand to reach to something, anything, but he can only barely move his pinky. His face is covered by oxygen mask and as he gradually regains his senses, he can to hear the sound of life-supporting machines surrounding him.

What happened…

He flutters his eyes back shut as his head begins pounding again. After the pain finally subdues, he tries to untangle the strings of his memories. He vaguely remembers a sunflower field, blue skies, boxes of strawberry milk, his dear, precious violin, and…

And…

The competition.

Oh Sehun.

Scenes of memories finally come back to him and it hurts. It hurts so, so much.

But he has to go, he has to go and win that competition, he has to keep his promise, he has to he has to he has to —

“He’s awake! Oh God, someone call the doctor!”

Lu Han can feel hot tears falling on his cheeks as a nurse comes into his slightly blurred vision.

“It’s okay,” the nurse says softly, carefully squeezing his cold hand. “You’re okay now.”

Lu Han wants to scream that no, it’s not gonna be okay, I can’t speak and I can’t move anything how could I be okay —

It’s the last thing he remembers before he drifts back to nothing.

The next time Lu Han awakes, he can feel warmth encircling his wrist. It soothes his initial panic of being awake so suddenly and when his gaze finally falls upon his mother, sleeping on a chair beside his bed, head lolling forward in an awkward angle, he feels a bit calmer. He tries to move his hand but to no avail. He feels miserable that he practically can’t do anything, and the thought of not being able to play his violin again breaks his heart to pieces.

And so he cries, silently mourning for the loss he’s experiencing. He doesn’t remember whether he even completed his performance at the finale, and to think that would be his last performance upsets him greatly.

A few minutes later his mother finally wakes up and finds her son in tears. Her heart clenches at the sight and she gets to her feet, leaning in to kiss her son gently on the forehead, thumbs moving carefully to wipe the tears away. She wants to cry along with him but she knows better; she has to be strong for him. She swears she will do anything to make her son better, even if it would cost her her own life.

The team of doctors and nurses attending to Lu Han come shortly after and Lu Han’s mother finds herself being shunned outside in the cold hallway. Looking up at the ceiling to prevent the tears from falling, she takes a long, shaky breath. When she shifts her gaze to the benches nearby, a small smile finds its way on her lips. There’s another boy sitting there, just like he has been for the past week. His dark-brown eyes are eyeing her carefully, and yet she still can see the fear in those eyes. The kind of fear she has learned as the fear of losing someone very dear, and it touches her how her son already has someone that cares deeply for him. The medal encarved with the boy’s name she saw Lu Han was wearing during the competition hanging loosely in his grasp.

She quietly approaches him and she can see that the boy wants to say something, ask something, but afraid of what the answer might be.

“He’ll be okay,” she says softly, both to herself and the boy. “He’ll be okay. He will.”

The boy bites his lip and nods. The tears falling steadily on his cheeks speak louder than the words he’s too afraid to say.

Lu Han learns how to speak again on the fifth day. He learns that he was unconscious for a week, and that the symptoms he’s experiencing is normal and that he would able to speak, walk, and do things again with therapy. He also learns that he didn’t manage to finish his performance in the last seconds and that eventually Arthur Kirkland emerged victorious.

By the time Sehun is finally allowed to visit him a week later, Lu Han’s hospital room is already full of flowers and get-well-soon cards. With him suddenly collapsing like that in the finale of a prestigeous international competition, there’s no way for him or anyone to just cover it up and shrug it off as something trivial.

“Hi,” the younger boy greets tentatively, pulling the chair beside Lu Han’s bed to sit. “How are you?”

Lu Han offers a weak smile. “Good.” Then he frowns, as if trying to search for the right word. “Sorry.”

Sehun raises his eyebrows, surprised. “For what?”

“Lost. Competition.”

“Lu Han,” Sehun sighs. “You were amazing. You are amazing. It’s okay. You have won lots more before and you will win even more later, okay?”

Lu Han shifts his gaze to his left hand sadly, trying to move his fingers with a little success.

“Hey,” Sehun bites his lip, taking the older’s hand in his. “You’ll be fine. The doctors said so themselves. They will help you. I will help you,” a small smirk. “I am your best student, remember? I can teach you again, if you forget or something. I have the violin god in me after all.” A reasurring squeeze. “You’ll be able to play that what’s-his-name’s six-billionth concerto again in no time, I promise.”

Lu Han chokes out a laughter and Sehun finds himself laughing along, hand never leaving the other’s.

They may not know what will happen in the future; things could be getting worse or even better. But for now, having each other in that hospital room full of flowers, is honestly the best thing they think they could have asked for at the moment.

Just the two of them, in their own small, make-shift garden of flowers, and nothing can feel more right.

The next day, another bouquet of sunflowers comes. This time, on the card, the word resilience is written in a neat, cursive writing.

Six years later.

The audience breaks into a chorus of thunderous applause as Lu Han bows that last note on the string of his violin. The vibrato ends beautifully to his own personal satisfaction and he can’t help but smile to himself as he takes a deep breath, puts his violin off his chin, and gets a full view of the audience.

It’s always breathtaking, the view. Of people in different colors and voices melding into one, all singing praises to him. He never wants it to end, to be honest, but of course at the end of the day he has to take his bow and the curtain has to be closed, leaving him with only his erratic heartbeats and the warm feeling of adrenaline and blood rushing through his veins.

Lu Han gets back to the backstage quietly, nodding and bowing politely to the staffs and colleagues. He settles his precious violin down in its case in his waiting room and takes a look at the bouquets of flowers addressed to him. A crowd of yellow flowers tied as one in a beautiful bouquet immediately steals his attention in among a variant of red, pink, and white roses; a small, baby blue envelope with a matching colored card inside attached conveniently on the paper wrapper.

Lu Han smiles to himself as he takes the cheerful-looking bouquet. He opens the envelope carefully, afraid of him accidentally tearing the fragile paper, takes out the card inside and begins reading the words written in a neat writing. It is the nth bouquet; Lu Han doesn’t remember exactly when he first started getting the sunflowers bouquets at the end of his performances.

This time, a simple, imperative sentence is written.

Look around.

Lu Han knits his eyebrows in confusion but does as he’s told anyway, and immediately another bouquet of sunflowers with another blue envelope attached enters his vision. He looks up to find the boy he has loved all these years, the now Olympic gold medalist and his self-proclaimed best violin student, smiling shyly at him as he offers the bouquet to the violinist.

Speechless, the recently graduated Juilliard violinist takes the bouquet into his arms and carefully takes out the baby blue card from inside the envelope.

To his surprise, the card is blank.

Raising his eyebrows, he stares at the other male questioningly. Smiling, the taller of the two takes the card and produces a pen from his pocket and starts writing.

When he gives back the card to Lu Han, it is now filled with words written in an all too familiar handwriting he had been wondering to whom it belonged to for all these years.

I love you. I have been for a long, long time.
Will you go out with me?

Fighting back the tears that starts pooling in his eyes, Lu Han takes back the card and pen, writes his answer, gives it back, and pulls him closer for a long-awaited kiss.

Yes.

A/N:

Hi all! Thank you so much for reading this piece! I started writing this in May 2014 and just managed to get it done today. This fic originally didn't end like this, and I will probably upload an alternate ending later. There's also a reason why I included Hetalia characters in this piece; I'd like to write a USUK spin-off later. And yes, the annoyed American cheering for Arthur in the finale was Alfred.

The strawberry milk thing was inspired by Sehun's diary entry.

Some of Sehun's faults when he's learning to play violin were based on my own personal experience when I started learning to play violin lol.

The sunflower reference was from the Greek myth.

When I was writing this, the Sibelius Violin Concerto I was listening to were the ones performed by Maxim Vengerov and Sarah Chang. The Vocalise in my mind was the one performed by Alexander Rybak.

~~I'm so sorry for the exo's overdose reference.~~

I would like to dedicate this to people battling tumors and/or cancer. This story is actually very loosely inspired by a dear friend of mine. I just would like to say that if there's a chance of survival, go for it.

Don't be afraid.

You can do it.

[oneshot] a cadenza of flowers [ii/iii]

flightlesswish — Sat, 21 Feb 2015 06:38:38 GMT

Part I

Sehun hears him first.

The bittersweet melody of the Vocalise, playing softly behind the old wooden door of the music room he’s been frequenting. He doesn’t dare to hope; but the sound is too familiar, too inviting.

But he opens the door anyway.

Behind the closed door, by the windowsill, Lu Han is standing with a perfect posture; his left fingers dancing along his precious violin’s fingerboard skillfully, his right hand guiding the bow on the strings in precise motion. His rather pale face looks serene, eyes shut.

It is an enthralling sight.

Sehun stands there in the doorway, eyes widened. It’s as if the time is frozen, except for the playing violinist.

When it comes to a stop, it’s almost as if the oxygen has been sucked out of his lungs. Sehun blinks and takes a hesitant, shaky fill of oxygen.

Lu Han puts the violin down as he slowly opens his eyes.

A short, sharp intake of breath.

A pair of widened, dark-brown doe-like eyes.

An abrupt realization.

“Sehun…?” the name trots out hesitantly from the older’s mouth.

Sehun stays still, unmoving, mum.

“How long have you —” Lu Han pauses, then shakes his head slightly. “Did you… “ he hesitates. “Did you like it?”

Sehun finally snaps out of his reverie when Lu Han is somehow standing in front of him, looking slightly puzzled and oddly hopeful. The violinist is reaching out his hand to his forehead, but he stops him, catching the older’s wrist midway.

Lu han has got much skinnier.

“Lu Han…” Sehun frowns. “Where have you been?” He grips on the wrist a little tighter. “Haven’t you been eating?”

Lu Han, visibly surprised, pulls his hand away from Sehun’s hold and looks away. “I’ve been… away.” He answers quietly. “I’ve been eating fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, Lu Han,” Sehun sighs. “I… This past week… Don’t you know that I…” He chokes out, voice trembling slightly. “Don’t do this to me,” he finishes quietly.

And Sehun doesn’t know what come to him, really, why he suddenly bursts into tears in front of Lu Han. He really isn’t sure, but when he feels himself being pulled into a warm embrace, there in Lu Han arms, he decides the whys doesn’t really matter anymore.

For now.

Sehun finishes crying ten minutes later. Lu Han has been holding him the entire time, soothing the younger’s back gently, mumbling apologizes.

Sehun pulls away shakily, rubbing his eyes sloppily. “I’m, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, words quivering. “God, what got into me hahaha, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bawled so suddenly like that,” he chuckles, shaking his head. There’s sincerity in those red-rimmed dark-brown eyes.

Lu Han gives him a small smile. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too. For suddenly disappearing and not telling you anything.”

“It’s okay…” Sehun exhales shakily. He then looks up, eyes tentatively gazing at the older’s. “Are you okay? I… I’ve heard the rumors, and…” Sehun pauses, gauging Lu Han’s reaction. Lu Han’s face, much to his dismay, is not giving anything away. “They’re not true, are they?”

Lu Han looks pensive for a moment before breaking into, to Sehun’s surprise, a grin. “Are they telling people that I’ve died, again?” Lu Han chuckles, shaking his head. “What is it this time, did I die because of a car accident? Did I die of a terminal illness? Did I jump off of a building?”

Sehun frowns. He doesn’t find the idea of Lu Han dying funny at the slightest. “Lu Han…”

“Oh, maybe they’ve got more creative this time around. Finally. Perhaps I died choking on a bao or something. Or because of a strawberry milk overdose. Maybe because I accidentaly ate one of my rosins, or —“ Lu Han choked on the last word as he feels his eyes begin to sting.

“Lu Han…” Sehun repeats as he reaches out his hands to gently touch the violinist’s shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“But it’s not! They have no fucking right — they have no fucking right to,” Lu Han trembles. “to kill me off whenever they please just for fucking money,” he takes a shaky breath. “Imagine how much they’re making. Imagine how much more they would be making if it’s actually true. In fact, I might feed a lot of people by dying!”

“Lu Han, stop it,” Sehun’s voice shakes slightly with a yet to be identified emotion. It feels almost like anger. “It’s okay. You are okay. They can’t hurt you. You are here, now.”

And I’m not letting you go.

Sehun blinks. What was that?

Lu Han doesn’t reply immediately. It’s as if he’s too stunned by Sehun’s words to say anything and Sehun prays that he didn’t accidentally say his last thought out loud.

Then comes a soft chuckle.

Sehun feels a small, tentative smile strecthing on his own lips.

“Sehun… Tell me,” Lu Han starts quietly. “How good are you at keeping secrets?”

The letter is given to Lu Han a week before his competition starts and four days before Sehun’s.

Lu Han heads to his room directly after he gets home from another check-up at the hospital, the pristine white envelope wrinkled slightly as he holds onto it a little bit too hard.

He rips the edge none too gently as soon as he sits on his bed, legs crossed, a frown on his face, and starts reading the letter. It contains the details on his upcoming surgery, such as the things he should do before and after the surgery. The side-effects that might arise. The team that would do the surgery. The fees. The estimated recovery period. The date.

It would be two days after the violin competition’s finale.

Lu Han takes a deep breath, took his cellphone from his jeans’ pocket, and dialed Sehun’s number.

The next day, when Lu Han enters the music room, there is a beautiful, familiar bouquet of sunflowers sitting on the chair he usually uses. He looks around the room and the empty hallway on instinct, half hoping that he would finally be able to see the enigmatic sender. When he finds no one, he walks to the chair and searches for that particular small baby-blue envelope. When he does find it, a smile blooming on his lips, he begins reading the content.

This time, a simple :) is staring back at him.

“Why are you smiling like that? It’s kinda creepy.”

Lu Han whips his head toward the entrance and finds Sehun grinning at him, two boxes of strawberry milk in hand. Lu Han couldn’t help the blush that has begun adorning his cheeks and immediately looks away, putting the card back inside the envelope in a haste and put it into his backpack. “It’s nothing.”

“Well, nothing wouldn’t make you smile creepily like that, would it?” Sehun teases as he walks in, putting his backpack on one of the chairs, and offers one of the milk boxes to the other male. “Here.”

Lu Han takes the milk with a pout and mumbles his thanks.

“Oh? Is it from one of your fans?” Sehun asks as he notices the sunflowers bouquet.

“Ye… yes, it is.” Lu Han stutters.

Sehun, to Lu Han’s surprise, merely smiles as a response. There’s no mischief. It’s one of those rare, Oh Sehun’s sincere smiles. Sehun then averts his gaze to the older male, a concerned look now visible on his face. “Are you alright? I mean, yesterday… Are you feeling better?”

Lu Han mirrors Sehun’s earlier smile. “Yes, I am. Thank you,” he says sincerely. “And it’s hard not feeling better after hearing your attempt at singing Baby on the phone yesterday,” he grins.

Sehun blushes slightly at the memory and pouts. “But I did that to cheer you up! It worked in the end, didn’t it!"

Lu Han laughs. “It does. Thank you,” he smiles. “Really.”

Sehun merely grins and walks toward the window. There are some of his classmates doing sports at the field. After mindlessly scanning the area, his mouth forms an o. “Oh wow, it’s Jongin! I thought he’s leaving early today…”

Lu Han, interest piqued, averts his gaze to the window. Jongin is there, walking along the sideline toward the exit. In his arms are —

“Sehun,” Lu Han hears himself asking. “Why is Jongin holding bouquets of flowers?”

It takes Sehun a few seconds longer to respond. “Well, his family owns a nice flower shop downtown...” he falters. His eyes widen when he sees Lu Han suddenly stands up and strides out of the room. “He — hey, Lu Han! Wait! Where are you going?!”

It’s all Lu Han needed to hear.

Now, he needs to run.

Jongin is visibly startled when he hears someone shouting his name. So he stops in his track and turns around. When he finds out that it’s Lu Han, he widens his eyes even more. When he sees Sehun running behind the older male, a slight frown immediately makes its way to his face. “Umm… Yes?”

“Kim Jongin… isn’t it?” Lu Han smiles, panting slightly. “I believe we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Lu Han,” he offers his hand. Jongin stares blankly at the offered hand momentarily before tentatively shakes it.

“Um, yeah. I’m Jongin… nice to meet you.” Jongin offers an awkward smile and averts his gaze to his best friend, now panting beside Lu Han, hands on his knees. “Sehun? What happened?”

Sehun shoots up and glares at Lu Han. “I don’t know. You know, Lu Han, you should probably consider joining our team. You sure can run fast.”

Lu Han dismisses the statement, eyes still trained on the baffled dancer in front of him. “Are those yours?” he gestures toward the bouquets in the younger’s arms.

“What, these? Yes… I mean, no, I’m delivering these to people…” he falters, gaze still fixed on his best friend, as if he’s searching for an answer to what exactly is going on in Sehun’s expression. When he finds nothing satisfactory, he gives his full attention back to Lu Han. “What about it, Lu Han?”

“Did you also deliver the one in the music room? The sunflowers?”

Jongin looks rather taken aback by the question. Lu Han raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

“I…” he swiftly glances at Sehun, who looks as surprised. “What?”

“The sunflowers,” Lu Han repeats impatiently. “Did you deliver them? Have you been delivering those sunflowers bouquets?”

Jongin shakes his head, eyebrows knitted slightly. “No… No, Lu Han, it’s not me. Perhaps it’s from one of your fans? Maybe they bought the flowers from our shop…” he answers smoothly. “Or, a secret admirer, perhaps?”

Lu Han looks away promptly, a tinge of pink dusting his cheeks. “I… I don’t know. That’s why I asked you to find out…”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, then,” Jongin says apologetically, although there’s a certain amusement in his tone. “Maybe Sehun would know…?”

Lu Han turns his attention to Sehun who is now frowning at his best friend.

“How the hell am I supposed to know,” Sehun scowls at Jongin, arms crossed. He then frowns at Lu Han. “For all I know you receive tons of those. Why are you so interested in that particular bouquet anyway? I’m sure it’s just from one of your fans, nothing special.”

Lu Han opens his mouth and for a moment there he looks like he’s about to say something, before closing it again, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Just… Never mind.” Lu Han finally sighs. He turns his attention to Jongin. “I’m terribly sorry for taking your time, Jongin. I think it’s best for me to get going now,” Lu Han bows slightly, turns on his heels and heads back to the music room to gather his things without a second glance. Sehun gives Jongin something akin to an exasperated look before quickly following Lu Han’s path.

“Nothing special, huh.” Jongin snickers, shaking his head, and starts heading to the addresses assigned to him.

Time ticks away and before they know it, it’s already the day of Sehun’s competition.

To say that Sehun is nervous is a gross understatement.

I’ll wait for you by the finish line.

Lu Han’s words ring in his mind. Sehun scans the cheering audience for a sight of the violinist but to no avail.

Lu Han was admitted to the hospital again due to exhaustion and stress a day previously and he is to stay in until the violin competition. Sehun has acknowledged the high probability that Lu Han wouldn’t be able to come to his competition but he can’t help but feeling something missing.

But he can’t let that get in the way, now. After all, he has promised that he would win.

“To your positions!”

Sehun takes one last glance to the cheering audience. Still no luck.

“Ready!”

Sehun takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“Steady!”

He gets into the position and flutters his eyes open.

“Go!”

And win he will.

Lu Han cracks one eye open. He compels his eyes shut as they’re exposed to the harshness of the light hovering above him. Taking a deep breath, he turns his face to the left, towards the window. He flutters his eyes open and finds that the curtain is already drawn. He must have been asleep for too long.

As he regains his full consciousness, he can feel a small weight on his unclenched hand. He shifts his gaze towards his right hand and finds an unfamiliar medal made of gold there. Frowning a little, he takes the medal closer and squints to see what’s encarved on it. The words are a plain evidence of a promise fulfilled that brings a smile on his lips.

Oh Sehun
South Korea Track Running National Champion 2015

“Looking good, Mr. Soon-to-be-Winner.”

Lu Han looks up from his prized violin and smiles. “Hello, Sehun. Congrats on winning the competition.”

Sehun grins. “Thanks. I’ve fulfilled my promise, so you better fulfill yours.”

“I’ll try my best to.” Lu Han chuckles. He looks up to the ceiling of the hospital room he’s been using, mind wandering. It’s finally the day of the competition that will be held in a few rounds in the span of a week to the finale. It would be no doubt a tiring and yet exciting process, but Lu Han is ready. Even though he’s not in his best condition, he will give it his all. The possibility of this being his last competition in a while or even, God forbids, ever, makes him even more determined to win.

Then suddenly, he remembers something. He turns his attention to his backpack and produces Sehun’s shiny gold medal out of it. “By the way, here. Thanks for lending it to me, I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.” He apologizes, offering the medal back to its owner.

Sehun takes it wordlessly, inspecting it for a moment before shifting his gaze to the violinist again. A shy smile on his lips, he steps forward to shorten the distance between them. Lu Han widens his eyes in surprise as Sehun put the medal on Lu Han like a necklace, the gold shining proudly on the older male. The younger takes a step back, smile unwavering. “You’re ready now.”

“Lu Han, it’s time.”

Lu Han and Sehun turn their attention to Lu Han’s mother, a warm smile on her lips. Lu Han returns her smile and nods, then starts packing his violin in its case carefully.

“I’ll see you at the venue. Good luck.” Sehun smiles, giving Lu Han’s had a reassuring squeeze.

Lu Han gulps down his nervousness and tries to return the smile. “Yeah,” he nods. “I’ll see you later, Sehun.”

After tiring days and hours of One Caprice from Op. 1 of Paganini, Debussy Sonata for violin and piano, Beethoven’s Trio in E-flat major Op. 1 No 1, Lu Han finds himself merely a few hours away from the finale. Sibelius Concerto in D minor will be his final piece; his last ultimate weapon to beat the other two finalists: Arthur Kirkland from United Kingdom and Roderich Edelstein from Austria.

Just another step away.

He waits anxiously at the backstage as the other two perform. Just his luck, he’s been assigned to perform last. Arthur has performed perfectly and beautifully with his own quirks, and now so far Roderich has also been performing very well, he has to admit. He has watched them perform several times before and their skilled techniques and interpretations, albeit different, both hold their own personal and unique quality. He has encountered both of them in competitions before, with Lu Han beating Arthur two out of four and him beating Roderich one out of two. They are indeed superb violinists, but Lu Han isn’t someone who can be taken easily, either.

Suddenly, the audience breaks into roaring applause and Lu Han knows that it’s going to be his turn very, very soon.

He takes his violin and bow in his hands, closes his eyes, and prays.

When he is finally called to perform, he throws away his fears and steps to the much-awaited stage.

Sehun stands on his feet and claps enthusiasticly as Lu Han finally enters the stage for the finale, deliberately ignoring the glares sent his way from fellow audience members. From what he's heard, Lu Han is going to perform a rather magnificent piece that everyone has been anticipating. He sits back after Lu Han is finally on his assigned position, grinning ear to ear. Lu Han looks amazing as always, in his opinion; a little nervous and exhausted, yes, but still amazing nevertheless.

“Dude, you totally need to calm down.”

Sehun turns to his side and finds an annoyed American, the same person that went hyper when that Arthur guy was performing. Sehun snorts but doesn’t reply because his doesn’t think his English is good enough to retort and decides to avert his attention back to the stage.

A moment of silence elapses and then it finally begins.

The first movement went fairly smoothly. Lu Han thanks the heavens mentally as he begins the second movement. He feels worse as the time goes on, though. He’s beginning to feel his head pounding and his vision is starting to blur. He clenches his eyes shut at the twilight of the second movement and tries his best to continue; his fingers dancing mournfully on the fingerboard on auto-pilot, the bow moving back and forth slowly over the trembling strings.

He takes a deep breath at the dawn of the third and final movement and begins the sharp, relentless notes precisely. He opens his eyes as the poundings in his head starting to become unbearable and warm tears start pooling on the corners of his eyes.

No, he thinks as he feels his consciousness slipping away. Just a little bit more —

This is it. The last of ascending slur-separate sixteenth notes —

Lu Han repositions the bow on the strings for the final notes, tears finally falling from the corners of his eyes, and compels his eyes shut.

Cross my heart.

Part III

[oneshot] a cadenza of flowers [i/iii]

flightlesswish — Sat, 21 Feb 2015 06:31:49 GMT

Title: A Cadenza of Flowers
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing(s): Sehun / Lu Han ~~with special cameos from Hetalia characters~~
Genre: Romance, Hurt / Comfort, High School!AU, ~~attempted humor~~
Rating: PG
Length: 13,000~ words
Warning(s): Language, Illness.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality. Hetalia characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

A CADENZA OF FLOWERS

The audience breaks into a chorus of thunderous applause as Lu Han bows that last note on the string of his violin. The vibrato ends beautifully to his own personal satisfaction and he can’t help but smile to himself as he takes a deep breath, puts his violin off his chin, and gets a full view of the audience.

It’s always breathtaking, the view. Of people in different colors and voices melding into one, all singing praises to him. He never wants it to end, to be honest, but of course at the end of the day he has to take his bow and the curtain has to be closed, leaving him with only his erratic heartbeats and the warm feeling of adrenaline and blood rushing through his veins.

Lu Han gets back to the backstage quietly, nodding and bowing politely to the staffs and colleagues. He settles his precious violin down in its case in his waiting room and takes a look at the bouquets of flowers addressed to him. A crowd of yellow flowers tied as one in a beautiful bouquet immediately steals his attention in among a variant of red, pink, and white roses; a small, baby blue envelope with a matching colored card inside attached conveniently on the paper wrapper.

Lu Han smiles to himself as he takes the cheerful-looking bouquet. He opens the envelope carefully, afraid of him accidentally tearing the fragile paper, takes out the card inside and begins reading the words written in a neat writing. It is the nth bouquet; Lu Han doesn’t remember exactly when he first started getting the sunflowers bouquets at the end of his performances. Maybe it’s a year or so ago and although he may not remember the date, he does remember the words written on the card.

The first were a neat and simple dear apollo.

The day Lu Han first talks to Sehun is just another day at school.

The weather is nice outside, as nice as the spring weather can get. Lu Han has been nursing a headache from school and other stuffs lately, and one of the things he’d like to do the most right now is just to sit down and enjoy the cool, calming spring breeze. Now that he thinks about it, when was the last time he let himself relax? It must have been quite a while ago, since he cannot recall and what he does recall is that he has a scheduled violin practice after school. It’s just like any other day, really, but today — after a long, long time, he doesn’t feel like doing it. Slacking off a day wouldn’t cost him much, would it?

After pondering for a while, he finally decides to come up to the school’s rooftop after school instead of straightly going home. No one really goes there except for the cleaning service people, as far as he knows, for most of the students prefer to either go home or attend to their club activities after school. A perfect place for quick getaway, he supposes. He has been getting headaches nowadays. Sometimes they are so persistent that Lu Han has to stop anything he’s doing and simply sits down until the pain disappears. With that in mind, he makes a mental note to go see a doctor to talk about it. A competition is coming up and he can’t afford being attacked by those random headaches for he’s sure it will interfere his carefully-scheduled practice and potentially ruin his chance coming first in the competition.

The rooftop is empty when he gets there and he secretly feels relieved by that. He doesn’t really want to meet or talk to anyone right now. He needs some time alone, simply doing nothing. He takes a seat on a bench near the railing, drops his backpack aside, and looks up. The sky is already a bit darker shade of orange, clouds floating freely, warm sunlight friendly enough for his eyes to look up without squinting. He takes a deep breath. The air is nice up here. Maybe he should come here more often.

After a moment he gets to his feet and walks towards the chest-high railing. He wryly thinks he can easily jump off from here if he wants to. Maybe the school has never thought someone would actually do it and never bothered to raise the bar higher. Sighing, he lets his gaze fall to the ground.

There are some students below, chattering away as they walk towards the entrance gate to go home. Some may be going to dates or simply hang out with their friends. Out of the blue, he feels a pang of jealousy well up in his chest. He doesn’t really have any friends at school, save for some of the guys from the school’s music club which he’s a member of. It’s not that he’s anti-social, God no, he’d like to think that he’s social enough. Not more not less, just enough. It’s just that no one really tries to get to know him well because of who he is and at time like this he can’t help but feeling lonely.

He wonders that maybe people that had jumped off of buildings didn’t actually want to jump at first. Maybe it’s the thoughts that came to them when they’re standing on the edge like this, just like him now, the feeling of loneliness and helplessness engulfing them and fogging their minds; and then in that split second they decided to go with a bang. Jumping off of a building guarantees at least one section in the newspaper the next day and plus you do get to try to defy gravity before you inevitably hit the ground. Lu Han starts to think maybe it’s not so bad after all. He’s always wanted to try to fly — well, don’t we all? It’s always been one of human’s greatest desires, to fly. And if he jumps right now, it would be no doubt that people are going to talk about it for a long while. He is Lu Han after all. Maybe if he just leans closer and reaches out his hand a little bit —

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Wha— ?”

The next thing Lu Han knows, he’s being pulled back by something — someone — and nearly loses his balance.

“Were you going to jump off? Are you out of your mind?!”

Lu Han blinks and a taller guy in the uniform identical to his fills his vision, a backpack slung on one shoulder. He stares at the guy, puzzled. “I wasn’t going to jump,” he mutters after he’s overcome the initial shock and lets his gaze falls on his wrist. “Now if you would kindly release my hand, that’d be wonderful.”

The guy doesn’t look convinced but releases Lu Han’s wrist anyway, a frown making its way on the taller’s face. “What were you doing?” He demands.

Lu Han shrugs, trying to look and sound nonchalant. “I just wanted to get a clearer view of the ground.”

A pause. “That’s weird,” the guy says finally and when Lu Han says nothing in response, he elaborates: “Most people usually want to get a clearer view of the sky, not the ground.”

“Well, I guess I’m not most people.” Lu Han says simply, feeling a little bit upset, and walks back to the vacant bench and sits. He aims his gaze at the sky, hoping that the guy will get the message that he doesn’t want to talk to the other and just leave him alone, but instead the guy goes on sitting beside him, putting his backpack aside, and stares at him. Lu Han can feel his cheeks burn but wills himself to not look back at the other male. After a full minute, as if something important has finally dawned on him, the guy says, “You’re Lu Han.”

Lu Han averts his gaze to him. “Excuse me?”

The guy is wearing an expression Lu Han cannot decipher, eyes still fixed on him, and says the next words with a neutral tone. “You’re Lu Han. The violinist.”

“Well, yes...” Lu Han trails off. “That’s me.”

The guy whistles and, to Lu Han’s surprise, smiles sheepishly. He has a nice smile. “I guess I was wrong about you wanting to jump off, sorry about that.”

Lu Han arches an eyebrow. “You guess?”

“Well you’re Lu Han. Why would you want to, you know, jump off.” The guy shrugs and shifts his gaze to the sky.

Lu Han knits his eyebrows and actually takes a good look on the other this time. He looks quite familiar, now that Lu Han properly sees him. His hair is jet-black in color, not entirely disheveled but not something Lu Han would say neat either. He has a lean figure and his skin is rather pale. The guy is, by Lu Han’s standard, attractively handsome. He mentally scolds himself and shakes the thought away. He blinks. “You’re Oh Sehun,” Lu Han realizes out loud. “The school’s star track runner…” He trails off, suddenly feeling hesitant. “Aren’t you?”

The guy chuckles, eyes not tearing away from the sky. “You know me.” Sehun says, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Who doesn’t,” Lu Han blurts out and quickly shuts his mouth when Sehun looks at him questioningly. Lu Han clears his throat. “Anyway yes, I do know you, although I believe it’s the first time we’re talking to each other.”

Sehun gives him a toothy smile and casually extends his hand. “Oh Sehun, just the school’s ordinary track runner. You said I was a star track runner and if you put it that way I should’ve called you the galactic violinist,” he grins. “Nice to be finally talking to you, Lu Han.”

Lu Han blushes. “Lu Han,” he simply mutters, shaking Sehun’s hand hesitantly and pulls his own away shortly. “What are you doing here?”

“I come here often, to relax and stuff.” He shrugs and eyes Lu Han curiously. “It’s the first time I ever see anyone else up here at this hour, though… The others usually rush home or enganged in club activites. What are you doing here anyway? Simply planning to enjoy watching the ground by yourself?” He asks, a teasing tone in his voice. “I didn’t know the ground... fascinates you that much.”

Lu Han feels his cheeks burn. “Oh, shut up.”

Sehun flashes him an amused smile. “It’s cool, really. I think watching the sky is just too mainstream these days — I swear it’s in every manga I see Kyungsoo reads. I mean, surely the ground wants the attention too once in a while, don’t you think? Not every day, just once in a while. I bet it’s very lonely, being stepped on everyday with no one actually paying some attention to it. Where’s our respect, seriously. We’re supposed to be, like, civilized and stuff, aren’t we?”

Lu Han blinks. What? “Um,” he decides to say after the initial daze of realizing that the guy he’s just met had just talked to him about the ground deserving some attention. And respect. “You think the ground deserves some attention. And respect?” He tries to confirm.

Sehun smiles, his eyes shaping a pair of crescent moons. “Yeah! Don’t you think so, too?” He says cheerfully as he reaches for his backpack and starts rummaging into it.

“Um, yeah.” Lu Han shrugs, eyes watching the other male with interest. “Sure. I guess.”

Sehun produces two small cartons of strawberry milk from inside his backpack soon after and offers Lu Han one. “Top grade strawberry milk with 8gr fat, very delicious and healthy!” He says eagerly, his eyes encouraging. Lu Han takes the small carton tentatively and mumbles his thanks. He takes a glance at what’s written on the pink carton. Top grade strawberry milk with 8gr fat is written on it. He smiles slightly, amused, before sticking the straw to sip the liquid demurely.

Sehun sips his own and lets out a contented sigh, as if he’s just drunk the most delicious thing in the world. He eventually shifts his focus across the bench. “One of these days I think I’d grace your ground view with myself running around, if you bother to come to look from the other side,” he points his chin to the part across from them. Below that part is the school’s sports field. “A competition’s coming up. I really need to start training immediately,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, his expression is as if he’s feeling guilty about something.

“Me too,” Lu Han says suddenly after a pause. Sehun raises his eyebrows. “I also have a competition coming up soon,” Lu Han explains. Sehun is about to open his mouth when Lu Han’s phone rings. It is, to Sehun’s amusement, TVXQ!’s latest single. Lu Han hurriedly fishes his phone out of his pants’ pocket and accepts the call without bothering to look at the caller’s, heat creeping under his cheeks. “He, hello?” He stutters and pointedly looks away from a grinning Sehun. Lu Han immediately switches to Chinese as soon he knows who the caller is.

Lu Han ends the call with a huff a minute later. He wordlessly picks up his bag and slings it over a shoulder, gets to his feet and turns back to Sehun. Sehun is staring at him with that unreadable expression again. It kind of makes Lu Han want to tugs the corners of the other’s lips upward so he can see Sehun’s smile again. Sehun really does have a nice smile. But of course, it’s their first meeting and it would be simply creepy and awkward for him to do so, so instead Lu Han says, “I have to go home now. Practice’s waiting,” he smiles, a little bit strained, because in all honesty he’d like to stay a little bit more. Sehun seems like a good person, albeit a little bit weird for his standard (but then again he’s friends with Yixing), and he finds himself wanting to get know the other male better. Maybe they can even be friends at the end of their conversation.

“Off you go, then,” Sehun says, a small smile on his lips. “Good luck on your competition.”

Lu Han nods but doesn’t make any move to leave. He bites his lower lip, gaze on the ground. He wants to say something, anything, perhaps a I’ll see you again? or maybe it’s actually nice to be talking to you, can we be friends? Screw it, a simple thank you or bye would do. He really wants to see and talk to Sehun again, but he doesn’t want to sound too hopeful (he’s not that desperate, mind you), and it’s been awhile since he has made any friends —

“I’ll see you again?”

Lu Han looks up and finds Sehun smiling warmly at him. It sounds hopeful to Lu Han’s ears, but most likely it’s just his own wistful thinking. Lu Han clears his throat. “Yes. Of course.” He finally manages to mutter and nods awkwardly to the other male before turning on his heels to leave.

When he’s sure Sehun can’t see him anymore, he runs.

Lu Han is an eighteen year-old international champion violinist. He has been playing the bowed instrument since he was four and won his first competition at the age of eight. It started off as his mother’s obsession on violin playing, which she didn’t manage to do in her youth. She sent Lu Han to violin classes as soon as he’s allowed to and turns out Lu Han is good at it, well more than good, and he came to love the instrument after the earlier struggles of how to hold the violin and the bow properly, how to produce the right notes, etcetera. It takes time and dedication, and Lu Han is more than willing to give it.

His family decided to move to Seoul when he was in the middle school to expand his father’s business. Moving to another country doesn’t stop him to continue playing and entering competitions. He has more wins than loses and since the age of fifteen he’s been honored to be a guest player at the renowned Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra quite a few times. He’s now a celebrated violinist in the country and in his own homeland. He has earned a generous amount of fortune over the years and although he’s no pop star, he is adored by many. At the age of eighteen, Lu Han has more than everything he has ever dreamt of.

Sehun is, as far as Lu Han knows, a national champion track runner. Sehun is in the same year as him but belongs to a different class, despite him being a year younger than Lu Han. Rumor has it that he’s going to represent the country in the next Olympics, so although Lu Han may not know about sports much, Sehun must be an excellent runner. Sehun is one of the popular kids at school and he is good at being popular. He’s always friendly to everyone, his grades are good, he’s good at sports, he’s good looking — who can possibly hate him?

Unlike a particular violinist, Sehun has plenty of friends. He’s always seen hanging out with his mates, especially one particular guy named Kim Jongin — the school’s arguably best dancer. From what he’s heard, they’ve been close since childhood. Maybe that’s why seeing Sehun, of all people, alone on the rooftop that day is a kind of surprise. Sehun and loneliness simply don’t match.

It’s been two weeks since that fateful day on the rooftop. Lu Han hasn’t come up to the rooftop ever since. He has this complicated feeling of both wanting and not wanting to meet Sehun again at the same time, so he has decided to shake the feeling away before meeting the other boy again and he can’t say the fact that he can see the sports field where Sehun practices from the window in the music club’s room gives him any help on that matter.

When he’s not playing or the practice session is over, he finds himself unconsciously staring out the window and scans the sight to look for a glimpse of Sehun. Strangely, the sight of Sehun somehow makes the butterflies that he didn’t know exist in his stomach come into wake. It’s an alien feeling and he doesn’t know how to deal with that yet. Not knowing what to label the feeling makes him feel slightly uneasy.

From time to time, he can catch glimpses of Sehun: shirt drenched in sweat, sticking stubbornly on his flushed skin, wrapping his lean figure perfectly and ajar mouth gasping for oxygen — and Lu Han can’t help but think that even then Sehun is still attractive. He would stop and watch for a while, eyes fixed on Sehun and Sehun alone, until Sehun’s on his blindspot or someone is demanding his attention.

It is not creepy at all, what are you even talking about.

Between his breaks, Lu Han would often catch Sehun gazing up towards the rooftop before running again. It’s odd, Lu Han thinks initially, as if he’s expecting someone… and then he remembers.

Sehun couldn’t possibly looking for him, could he… ? He quickly shakes his head at the thought. That sounds ridiculous even to his own ears. They have only met once and barely hold a proper conversation, so there’s no way Sehun is looking for him.

Right?

Right.

Lu Han buries his face in his hands.

He needs to get a grip.

That particular day after school, his club mates have already gone home. There’s no sign of Sehun that day, just some random students that belong to the sports club playing around on the field.

Lu Han has just finished going through a piece for his solo practice for the upcoming school’s orchestra performance when he hears someone clapping. He starts and quickly turns around towards the door, nearly dropping his violin (which he doesn’t, thank God; the violin has costed him quite amount of money), and finds Sehun clapping with mouth slightly ajar in awe, his eyes wide like a child in an amusement park.

Lu Han takes a sharp breath, clutching at his heart. Calm down, stupid, it’s just Sehun, he mentally tells himself. He can feel his own heart beating fast. After a brief moment, Sehun has finished clapping and is now wearing a grin. Lu Han’s heart skips a beat and his next words come out breathless. “Wh— what are you doing here?”

Lu Han wonders if the color pink in Sehun’s cheeks is just his imagination. “Um, I, I was — ” the taller male stutters, as if only now remembering that he’s not supposed to be there. “I was just passing by and heard someone playing. I didn’t know it was you,” he says sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head, gaze dropped on the floor.

Lu Han blinks. “O… kay,” he says quietly and before he can’t stop himself: “aren’t you supposed to be practicing at this hour?”

Shit.

He can see Sehun looks up, widened eyes now on him. “You knew?”

Lu Han bites his lower lip and hesitates. After a moment, he motions to the window. “I, um, can see you from here.”

“Oh… right.” Sehun shifts his gaze to the window. A small smile, and he averts his gaze back on the violinist. “Well, not today. I have some other stuffs to do…” then, almost like an after thought: “You haven’t been coming to the rooftop.”

Lu Han’s mind wanders to his previous thought about Sehun looking for him and he can feel heat crawling under his cheeks. He shakes his head slightly, a sad smile on his lips. “No, I haven’t. I have to practice more now for the club’s orchestra performance this weekend and of course for that upcoming competition I’ve mentioned before…”

Sehun hums. “Um, okay then. I guess I’ll get going, don’t want to disturb you any longer,” he says sheepishly and turns to leave with a small wave.

“Wait!”

Sehun stops and turns around, eyebrows arched in question.

Lu Han fishes for something inside his back and holds it in his hand. He approaches the taller man shyly. “Are you free this weekend?”

Sehun looks surprised. “Why?”

“Will you come to our performance?” Lu Han asks, holding out a ticket that he’s fished out from his bag towards Sehun. “It’s a Tribute to Mozart night…”

Sehun simply stares at the ticket, expression unreadable. It dawns on Lu Han a moment later about the high probability of Sehun not liking music, classical music at that, and seriously who would spend their precious Saturday night watching and listening to something you don’t care about for two whole hours?

“We, well, I mean, if you don’t want to it’s okay, I completely understand, pop music is way more interesting anyway, right ha ha ha — “

“Lu Han.” Sehun says suddenly. Lu Han shuts his mouth. Sehun takes the ticket, his hand brushes with Lu Han’s in the process. Lu Han feels warmth tingling on his skin and when he looks up, Sehun’s smile is just as warm.

“I’d be glad to come,” Sehun beams. “Thank you.”

Despite Lu Han’s doubts, Sehun does come to watch the performance. The younger boy even waves at him when Lu Han and the rest of the club enter the stage. Lu Han gives him an awkward smile in return as an acknowledgement, and that’s when he notice a certain Kim Jongin sitting beside the boy. Jongin is wearing a thin, wry smile and Lu Han can easily say that he’s being dragged by Sehun to come out of his will.

The performance lasts for two whole hours. It ends with claps and whistles from the audience and while it’s not as grand as Lu Han normally receives, it still feels so good. He can see Sehun standing while he claps just before he leaves the stage. Lu Han gives him a smile and a nod before leaving, feeling satisfied.

Bouquets of flowers are already waiting for him in the waiting room, as usual, nearly covering the whole mirror. Some even on the edge to fall to the ground. He can’t help but notice the glaring difference between his spot and his other club mates’, but he knows that they’re used to it and don’t think it’s a big deal. He’s Lu Han, after all. Half of the audience, if not most, probably came just to watch him perform. He wonders if his clubmates dislike him for stealing away the attention…

“Hey, golden boy.”

Lu Han pulls out from his thoughts and turns to see Zhang Yixing, the pianist and also his best friend, grinning smugly at him. “Yixing…”

“Great perf today! Look at the flowers,” Yixing whistles as he eyes the pile of flowers. “All reds and whites. You’d think they planned this or something except, of course, those beautiful sunflowers…”

Lu Han smiles slightly. “Girls, I guess.” He’s had a lot of fangirls and most of them give him red or white roses; sometimes pink. Notes will often come with the flowers, not so little of them about love confessions written in either Chinese, Korean, English, or a horrible mix of the three. It kind of baffles him at first how someone can say they love someone when they never even talk to each other before, but with time he learns to not think too much about it and just accepts them gratefully. In the sea of reds and whites, the yellow of sunflowers really does stand out. He takes out the small baby blue card out of the envelope that came with the sunflowers and reads the sentence inside.

Thank you for the new beginning, it says this time. Lu Han arches his eyebrows in question but a smile makes its way to his lips nonetheless. He’s always liked the cards that come with the sunflowers, it’s not filled with love confessions or such, but a simple sentence at a time that Lu Han thinks hold a unique beauty and charm on its own; even though Lu Han can understand little to nothing of the truth that the sender intends to convey through those words. He always keeps the cards and puts it into a small gift box he has in his room and rereads them when he has the time.

Yixing casually takes a seat beside Lu Han’s spot and points his chin towards the flowers. “What would you do about them?”

Lu Han shrugs. “Take them home.” As per usual, he usually puts the flowers in a box (or more in quite a few occasions, especially when he performs with more audience) and when he’s not being driven home like today, he will take the box by himself. Fortunately, on smaller performances like tonight’s, he only has to take a smaller box than usual. Plus, flowers don’t weight much. Nothing he can’t handle.

“And then throw them away?”

Lu Han widens his eyes. “No, that’s rude!”

“So do you tend to them daily or something?”

“Um, no.”

“You just let them wither and die.”

“Um…”

Yixing whistles. “That’s actually crueler, don’t you think?” There’s a distant look in his eyes. “Giving them hope by bringing them home only to let them be and wait for their inevitable death.”

Lu Han sighs. “Well, I feel bad if I just throw them away. It’s as if I’m breaking hearts with each flower or something.”

“You let them die in the end anyway.”

“At least I don’t have to do it myself,” Lu Han murmurs.

Sehun, to his surprise, is waiting for him outside the building. Lu Han usually leaves close to the last so he doesn’t have to deal with the crowds willing to see him off-stage when he’s going home by himself. The time reads 10:10 by the time he exits the building, the fan gifts box in his arms, violin case slung carefully on his shoulders.

Sehun looks handsome with his casual outfit tonight, his hair tousled slightly by the wind. There’s no Jongin in sight, and for some unknown reason Lu Han feels relieved with the fact. Sehun offers him a grin and a familiar small carton of milk, instead of the traditional bouquet of flowers. Lu Han raises his eyebrows but takes it anyway after putting the box down. He notices that it’s not the strawberry flavor but chocolate. “Thank you,” Lu Han says softly. “Thank you for coming.”

“What is that?” Sehun asks curiously, eyeing the box. Lu Han shrugs. “Flowers,” he answers simply.

“I see, must be from all those raging fangirls of yours. Some of them were here before they gave up and went home, thinking you already did…” Sehun grins. “You were awesome, by the way. I mean, I knew you’re awesome, but it’s the first time I saw you play with the other guys live, so. Yeah, I hope you like chocolate? They ran out of the usual strawberry,” he finishes sheepishly.

Lu Han blinks. “I do,” he says and lets his gaze fall on the light brown carton milk. “I do,” Lu Han repeats sincerely and starts drinking the milk. He empties it in one go. He realizes he is actually hungry…

Sehun beams. “Good, then. Are you going straightly home?”

“Yeah, it’s quite late already,” Lu Han chuckles and throws the empty carton inside a nearby trashcan. He gazes up at the sky and blinks. “Oh wow — the moon is beautiful tonight.” Lu Han says in awe before shifting his attention back to the younger male. “It reminds me of—” He stops. There’s the slightest tinge of red on his cheeks “Are you going home after this?” He coughs, returning the question, after a brief moment of silence.

Sehun raises an eyebrow but then decides to let it slide with a shrug. “I guess. Do you have a ride? Do you want me to help you with that box?”

“No, it’s alright, I’m taking the bus…” he glances at his wristwatch and his eyes go wide. “Shit, I gotta hurry. The last bus is leaving in five minutes — I’m sorry, I’ll see you again okay?”

Sehun nods, a smile on his lips. “Okay. I’ll see you again.”

Lu Han readjusts the violin case straps on his shoulders and takes the box back in his arms. He nods at Sehun and starts striding fast to catch the last bus.

When Lu Han is out of his sight, Sehun is still standing there. He gazes up to the sky, a smile making its way back to his lips.

The crescent moon is indeed beautiful tonight.

They meet quite a few times after that. Lu Han would coincidentally meet Sehun at the sports field on his way home and some days Sehun would coincidentally pass the music club’s room when Lu Han’s practicing. After a few I’ll see you agains later, they don’t even make excuses anymore and simply be there.

Lu Han enjoys the younger’s company and secretly wishes that the other male feels the same too. They have worked out their awkwardness around each other as the days pass, much to Lu Han’s relief. Somewhere along the way Lu Han also learns an important fact: although Sehun is very polite to basically everyone and seems like a perfect gentleman in the making, when you get to know him better, you will find a big dork underneath all those admirable traits. Another plus factor is that Lu Han hasn’t been getting much headaches compared to before he starts hanging out with Sehun. Oh well, maybe it’s all due to stress after all.

Lu Han would usually wait for Sehun at the finish line, reading his notes or music sheets, with a tall blue bottle of water for Sehun when he finishes. Sehun would grin at him and say his thanks as Lu Han hands him the bottle; immediately gulping down the water empty. Lu Han would simply smile in return as he watches Sehun’s mouth, wet with water, his adam apple moving up and down as the runner gulps down the water. Knowing Sehun has taught Lu Han many things — one of them being the art of staring without getting caught, because he kind of like watching Sehun. A lot. God knows what Sehun would say if he got caught. Lu Han doesn’t want to think about that and prays the day would never come.

One day, Sehun asks him to teach him how to play the violin. He says that he thinks he have a secret talent to be a violinist after watching Lu Han play, because it looks pretty easy. So Lu Han hands him one of the school’s violins and starts teaching him the basics after the club’s practice.

To begin, Lu Han doesn’t let Sehun to touch the bow yet and tells the younger to simply hold the violin, which is met with Sehun’s snort because of course I can hold the violin properly first try!. It ultimately ends with him failing and Lu Han laughing at him mercilessly. When he finally can hold the violin properly, Sehun starts with the fingerboard and makes a face when he sees the fretless surface. He ends up missing the first finger position for the second most of the time.

Lu Han lets Sehun play with the bow the second time. He applies some rosin on the bow’s hair carefully with Sehun watching him in interest. “Why are you rubbing a candy on it?”

Lu Han smiles wryly as he hands the bow to him. “It’s called a rosin. It is not a candy and do not touch the hair,” he warns when Sehun is about to touch the bow’s hair. Sehun pouts and wraps his fingers around the wood. Lu Han hums in approval and elaborates, “Basically if you don’t have rosin applied on the hair, no sound will come out no matter how hard you bow.”

Sehun’s mouth forms an “o” as he nods. “Okay,” he says and takes a deep breath. “I’m going to unleash the violin god in me, so watch out for that. You’ll probably be blinded by my awesomeness.”

Lu Han rolls his eyes but says nothing. Sehun then clears his throat and bows on the E string tentatively. It produces a horrible, high-pitched squeak that make both of them wince.

“You should have started on D or A first,” Lu Han snickers. “I thought the violin god in you knew E was very delicate.”

“But I was very gentle,” Sehun mumbles.

“Well, be gentler,” Lu Han says and is met again with Sehun’s pout. Seriously, Sehun should be banned from pouting because it makes him even more adorable.

Wait, what.

Lu Han ends up teaching him how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars and later, when Sehun gets bored playing the same song over and over, Lu Han teaches him Over the Rainbow. They’re still terribly out of tune, but Sehun is all pleased with himself regardless. He’s saying how he would boast of being Lu Han’s pupil in the future and Lu Han replies with please no because it will only destroy my remarkable reputation.

Life is good, Lu Han thinks as he watches Sehun struggle playing Over the Rainbow. A smile blooms on his lips. It really is.

Sehun has been a permanent routine to Lu Han performances since that Mozart Tribute night. He would sit there, sometimes with Jongin beside him — although Jongin would then disappear when Lu Han meets Sehun at the end of the day outside the building; a moonlit smile on his lips, two boxes of strawberry milk with 8gr fat in hand. It always feels nice to have someone familiar in the audience, after all.

With that new routine, he finds his other “routine” lessens in frequency. And the pain. He would still get headaches sometimes, although rarely now, and the pain is much lesser.

He still gets the sunflowers bouquets, of course, which is his another permanent routine. He wonders if the sender’s ever going to stop. He wonders if he could do something for them, to know that he really does appreciate the bouquets and the cards, and then he thinks better of it.

The newest card he got was written with fond memories.

Sehun watches calmly for once as Lu Han practices the repertoire that the latter would be recording later in the day for the upcoming competition. It sounds sad yet beautiful; and although Sehun has no idea what the piece is called, this has been his most favorite piece to listen to yet. Sehun thinks it’s probably Beethoven or Mozart’s 1238th violin concerto or something.

When Lu Han finishes, Sehun gives him enthusiastic claps and awed whistles. Although Sehun has watched Lu Han performs his violin skills a few times by now, on and off-stage, Lu Han never seems to stop to amaze him. He always has something new to show and when Sehun thinks the violinist can’t be any better than this, Lu Han comes again and proves him otherwise.

Lu Han gives him a smug smile and proceeds to put the violin back to its case. “I have to go to the Philharmonic Orchestra, so I’m afraid I can’t stay longer today.”

Sehun frowns. “Philhar-what?”

“Philharmonic.”

“Phil’s grandmother?”

Lu Han huffs. Count on Sehun to mishear Philharmonic for Phil’s harmoni. “Forget it. The point is that I have to go sooner.”

“Okay.” Sehun says. He blinks. “I really like that song.”

Lu Han stares at him, puzzled. “What song?”

“The one you just played.”

“It’s not a song, Sehun,” Lu Han sighs. “It’s Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise.”

“Wow, it doesn’t have any number on the title!” Sehun says, visibly impressed.

Lu Han rolls his eyes. “Its official name is Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise Op. 34 No. 14.”

Sehun makes a face. Lu Han chuckles and starts packing his things. “I’m glad you liked it, though. I’m going to use this piece for the competition and in fact, now I’m going to the Orchestra to ask some advice from my mentor on this particular piece,” he pauses and averts his gaze to the younger male, eyebrows raised. “What are you doing after this?”

Sehun shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe run some laps or go bother Jongin.”

Kim Jongin. “You should run some laps,” Lu Han say immediately without thinking. He mentally smacks his head. He doesn’t want to sound like he prefers Sehun not to spend more time with the other male.

Sehun taps his chin thoughtfully, oblivious to Lu Han’s thought. “Hmm. Should I?”

“You do have a competition coming up,” Lu Han shrugs. “I’m feeling like you’ve been practicing to enter a violin competition more than a running competition,” he smirks.

Sehun’s eyes widened, as if he’d only realized that. “Huh. You’re right,” he says and pauses. “I guess being able to play Over the Rainbow or Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars awesomely like I do won’t really help me much on winning a running competition,” Lu Han rolls his eys at this and Sehun suddenly looks like he’s just got the best idea in the world. “Oh my God, Lu Han, we totally should win together! I winning the running competition and you the violin. It will be so awesome. In fact, let’s make a promise here and now!”

Lu Han raises his eyebrows, a little taken aback at Sehun’s sudden excitement. “What?”

“Repeat after me! I, Lu Han, solemnly swear,” Sehun insists, raising a hand, chest buffed.

“Sehun, this is ridiculous — ”

“Repeat!”

Lu Han sighs. Sehun can be such a child sometimes. “You’re such a child, Sehun,” he decides to voice it out and is meet with Sehun staring hopefully at him, his stance intanct. Lu Han takes a good look at the surrounding, making sure that no one else can see them, takes a deep breath and raises his own hand. “I, Lu Han, solemnly swear,” he finally obliges half-heartedly.

“that I will win the competition,”

“that I will win the competition,”

“and if I don’t,”

“Sehun,”

“and if I don’t!” Sehun says louder as puts a finger on Lu Han’s lips, effectively silencing the older male. Silence dawns upon them abruptly and for a split second there Lu Han swears Sehun is leaning closer to him, face so close that Lu Han can count the younger’s long eyelashes, and oh God, Sehun is beautiful and their lips are merely a few inches away —

And Sehun backs away almost immediately, as if the contact scorched his skin, his back turned. All Lu Han can hear at the moment are loud, erratic heartbeats, and if he listens closer, he’d know that those don’t come from one heart but two.

No one speaks for what feels like an eternity but no one makes the move to leave either. Lu Han gulps down his nervousness and decides to man up. “Sehun,” the name ends up to come out as a mere whisper.

“I know you can win.” Sehun says abruptly, still not facing Lu Han. “You will win.”

“Sehun…”

“And I will, too.” Sehun adds, a hint of confidence back in his voice. He turns around to face Lu Han again, a smile now adorning his handsome face. “It’s a promise, okay?”

Lu Han, unable to speak, simply nods.

“Cross my heart,” Sehun says softly as he makes the motion. Lu Han feels heat creeping on his cheeks. This feels kind of embarrassing, if he’s being truthful to himself, but the smile playing on Sehun’s lips makes it’s all worth it.

“I’m sorry, I…” Sehun trails off. Lu Han looks at him in the eyes and finds a mixture of emotions he can’t quite decipher in those warm brown eyes. Sehun swallows the words he’s going to say and instead he nods and turns on his heels to leave.

Lu Han stands there in silence, his hand slowly motions for his heart.

Cross my heart.

The next baby blue card he gets along with the bouquet of sunflowers is filled with a simple question mark.

“Another one, huh?”

Lu Han jumps from his seat and looks up, a scowl on his face. He finds Yixing smiling smugly and Zitao looking at the bouquet curiously beside him. Lu Han sighs but doesn’t say anything and instead brings his attention back to the enigmatic card. The previous ones had been sentences, one at a time, so this simple question mark is quite baffling to Lu Han.

“A question mark? What does that even mean?” Zitao says in Chinese, a frown on his face.

“A question mark means a question mark, Zitao,” Yixing says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Duh. “The bouquet of sunflowers, on the other hand…”

Lu Han averts his gaze to the pianist, eyebrows arched. “What about it?”

“Do you even know what sunflowers mean, Lu Han?”

“Sunflowers mean, well, sunflowers?” Lu Han tries.

“No,” Yixing rolls his eyes. “It means unrequited love. Not many of your fangirls know their place like this one… At least this one know you’d never be able to return her feelings for you.”

“I don’t even know any of them so how could I fall in love with them,” Lu Han mumbles as he puts the bouquet into a box.

All of sudden, that moment, Lu Han feels the world shakes beneath his feet and he stumbles forward; he’d certainly fall to the ground if it’s not for Zitao who immediately holds him back. Lu Han compels his eyes shut, silently waiting for the tremor to cease. His head is pounding painfully.

“Lu Han? Are you alright?” Zitao asks concernedly. Yixing is immediately in front of him, making him stand back straight, hands on the older’s arms carefully.

Lu Han slowly opens his eyes. His head is pounding like hell that he feels tears on the corner of his eyes. “Earthquake…?” He asks weakly. Yixing gives him a questioning look before shaking his head.

“It’s… spinning,” Lu Han breathes shakily and lets himself fall on the floor, head cradled in his arms, body curling into a fetal position. “Make it… stop,” he whimpers and reaches out to hold onto something, anything, because now he feels like falling and he can hear Yixing and Zitao calling his name but he can’t see, he can’t —

And then it is all black.

Lu Han wakes up to a contrasting white compared to the pitch black darkness he’d fallen into. He blinks his eyes slowly, trying to regain his focus. He’s met with a ceiling of white and he can’t say he didn’t expect this. The smell of disinfectant is in the air, confirming his assumption that he’s at a hospital even further. He eventually takes in his surrounding and finds his mother asleep on a chair beside his bed, wrinkled hands holding his, head rested on the edge of his bed. Lu Han feels his eyes soften at the sight, a small smile making its way on his lips. Mother…

He squeezes her hand gently and she slowly opens her eyes. In a moment those dark-brown eyes so much like his own are staring at him and the next, tears are streaming down their corners. Lu Han soon finds himself in her careful embrace, her tears immediately soaking the fabric of his baby blue hospital shirt.

“Mom,” Lu Han murmurs, voice slightly hoarse from disuse. “I’m okay,” Lu Han says; hopes. He isn’t so sure about his condition. Was it really an earthquake? Was he in such shock that he just passed out like that? Is an earthquake even supposed to feel like that? He wouldn’t know, he’d never felt one before. The sound of the time beating somewhere in the room produces another question: how long had he been out?

Too many questions, too little answers.

“Mom…?” Lu Han tries again, rubbing circles gently on her trembling back. “Are Yixing and Zitao okay? The earthquake didn’t hurt them, did it?” He asks worriedly.

Slowly, his mother breaks the hug and gazes upon her only son, wiping her tears away. “Oh sweetheart…” she sniffles, a trembling smile on her lips. “There’s no earthquake; they are okay.”

“No earthquake…?” Lu Han asks, confusion clear in his voice. Then what was it? “What happened, mom?” he finally inquires.

“Sweetheart…” She compels her eyes shut, as if the next words she’s going to say are hurting her. Lu Han’s heart breaks a little at the sight. What could possibly happen to him that makes his mother suffer so much only to say that? A moment later she flutters her eyes back open, fresh tears falling from the corners of her eyes; a melancholy smile on her lips.

“Sweetheart… there’s… there’s a tumor in your brain,” she chokes out and breaks down again, hands holding Lu Han’s tight, head hung low as she sobs.

Oh.

“That’s…” He croaks, unable to finish with a whirlwind of thoughts invading his mind all at once. That’s not supposed to happen, that only happens in movies, that’s impossible, that’s —

That’s —

“Oh my God,” He whispers when it has finally registered in his mind that it is happening. “A tumor?”

His mother finally looks up and nods slowly, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “Yes, sweetheart, it’s a benign tumor so it isn’t as dangerous as the malignant one, but,” she chokes, “there’s always a possibility if you keep it in. We’ll take it out as soon as possible, okay?”

Take it out… of my… brain…

“Mom,” Lu Han whispers as something finally dawns on him. “If I take it out, will I still be able to play the violin?”

Cross my heart.

Lu Han is nowhere in sight for the next full week.

Sehun has been waiting every single day by in the music room, hoping that Lu Han would magically appear out of nowhere; a soft smile on his lips, violin case slung over his shoulder.

Lu Han has become a part of his routine and the thought of not being able to see him again terrifies him.

He’s heard the rumors.

It’s not like he doesn’t know. It’s more difficult not to know. He is Lu Han after all.

But still, he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And

Waits

.

.

.

“Sehun.”

Sehun frowns. The voice sounds so familiar…

“Oh Sehun… wake up.”

Sehun opens his eyes and immediately sits up, knocking his head on another’s; hard. “Ow,” he groans as he rubs the sore spot on his forehead. “What the hell.”

“You sure have a hard head,” the other’s voice grunts.

Sehun blinks and looks up. “Yixing?”

“Glad you didn’t get an amnesia,” Yixing rolls his eyes. “What are you doing here so late, Sehun?”

Sehun frowns. “It’s not late, it’s only—” he glances at the clock hung on the wall above the door and falters. “Six. Oh my God. I must have fallen asleep.”

Yixing sighs and starts taking some music sheets on a nearby desk then putting them into his dark-brown satchel. “Obviously, you did. Now, I need you to get out so I can lock the room.”

Sehun starts gathering his things and heads out, Yixing following behind him. The music room locked with a click and Sehun finds himself facing a weary-looking Yixing.

“Yixing…” Sehun starts tentatively. “Do you happen to hear anything about Lu Han lately?”

Yixing looks pensive for a moment before he stares at the taller boy questioningly. “Nothing you haven’t heard about, I’m sure. Why?”

Sehun bites his lip and shakes his head. “Nothing… nothing.”

At that Yixing smiles slightly, as if something has just dawned on him. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. Rumors tend to be exaggerated, and I’m sure those rumors about Lu Han are no exception. He’s probably just exhausted and is now resting at home.”

“You sure?”

Yixing smiles and starts walking. Sehun follows, easily matching Yixing’s shorter strides. “Yes, Sehun. I’ve known him for years. There’s one time when this shady gossip magazine reported that Lu Han had died in a car accident somewhere in Beijing. I panicked and immediately went to his house only to find him rolling around on his bed whining about being hungry, here in Seoul.” He chuckles. “Don’t worry too much, Sehun. Think about something else — Don’t you have a competition to win soon?”

Sehun nods, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah… you’re right.” He pauses. “Thank you, Yixing.”

Part II

Announcement

flightlesswish — Tue, 27 Jan 2015 07:31:27 GMT

Hello everyone!

I am here to inform you that I have made Ao3 and FFn accounts!

My FFn account will be used to archive my Hetalia-related fan fictions, while my Ao3 account will be used to archive all of my works from all fandoms. My LJ account will be used to archive my EXO-related works. All accounts will be active and will be used for their respective purposes.

There might be some minor changes for my existing stories that I repost in my Ao3 account. By minor changes I mean things like missing words and grammatical errors that I couldn’t fix on LJ for some unknown reasons (for instance, in 04:01).

I will still write for EXO Fandom. In fact, I’m currently working on three (!!!) EXO fan fictions lol. I might be considered rather slow at posting my stories, but that’s because I don’t want to post unfinished stories. With that being said, I most likely will never post chaptered fan fictions, except (maybe) if I have finished the whole thing. I hope I would be able to finish and publish my currently in-progress stories soon, please look forward to it!

Meanwhile, check out my first Hetalia / USUK fan fiction, The Other Half (Ao3 / FFn)! Do leave comments / kudos / favorites if you liked what you read ;)

Thank you all and hope to see you all again through another stories (hopefully) soon!

[oneshot] kintsukuroi // golden repair

flightlesswish — Sat, 11 Oct 2014 10:03:26 GMT

Title: Kintsukuroi // Golden Repair

Author: flightlesswish
Pairing(s): Sehun / Lu Han, Sehun-centric
Genre: Angst, Hurt / Comfort, Romance
Rating: PG
Length: 2,300~ words
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.
A/N: Inspired by this song.

kintsukuroi // golden repair
金繕い

i.

It’s been long overdue.

Sehun has seen it throughout the years — those cracks.

The dimmed light in his eyes. The plain, well-rehearsed and worn-out smiles. The laugh that sounds a lot more like a concealed cry over the years. The clumsy, choked words. The heavy breaths and nearly broken bones and heart.

The way he would curl up to himself as he sleeps and envelop himself in the security of his soft, sky blue-colored blanket that he loves so much.

The way his beautiful soul silently weeps.

The way he says I lo—

ii.

It reminds Sehun of their trainee days.

I really love this color, he had said with a sheepish smile back then, draping the blanket over himself and sighed contentedly. It’s a nice color, don’t you think? The color of the sky — the color of freedom, he grinned, gesturing toward their cracked white ceiling.

Sehun merely smiled and nodded back then, sitting on his own bed across from his. After a beat of silence, he looked at Sehun as if he had just got the most brilliant idea in the world. He shifted slightly, nearing to the wall full of yellow post-its containing hanzi Sehun couldn’t understand, and grinned. Come, sleep here, Sehunnie, and feel the nice warmth of freedom!

Sehun raised his eyebrows. Uh, hyung. Are you actually being serious right now?

Sehun still remembers how he hates people to sleep in his bed.

He flopped himself down and stretched his arms. Uh huh, just this once. You know I love you, Sehunnie. Anything for my adorable precious dongsaeng.

Sehun could hear the tease in his words, but couldn’t help the heat creeping up in his cheeks. It was fortunate he had turned off the lights.

Well? Come here and let’s quickly sleep, Sehunnie. We have another long day tomorrow.

Sehun carefully flopped himself down next to him. The bed was small, barely fitted them both. But still, he smiled, his back pressed close against the wall. Sehun didn’t dare to turn to his left.

But he did, anyway.

He was only a few centimeters away. Sleep was looming ahead, eyes heavy, fluttering shut. His lips were slightly open, slightly showing a glimpse of his perfectly white teeth. His breath was soft; their hearts beat in rhythm. It was perfect.

He was so beautiful like that.

So, so beautiful.

And then minutes passed. Maybe hours, Sehun wasn’t really sure. He only fell asleep after he shifted even closer towards the other boy, curling slightly. With a smile on his lips, he drifted off to sleep.

(Sehun dreamed that night.

A shadow was leaning in and pressed its lips against his forehead softly.

It whispered good night and pulled him close to its ink black heart.)

iii.

Sehun remembers the first fall.

It was the night after they had announced that Sehun, him, along with ten other boys would debut together in a boyband named EXO.

(They both got to keep their real names, much to Sehun’s relief and his chagrin, because thank God I don’t have to be SayHun or any other ridiculous names — Sehun, and but I want to be Zìyóu! It’s really a cool name, isn’t it! Isn’t it, Sehun? — him.)

They would move to a new, bigger apartment to live together with the other boys (members, he had corrected Sehun) the next day. They had packed their things, messily, into their suitcases. He hadn’t put in his blanket then, saying that he would put it in the next morning. I still need it tonight, he smiled.

That night he tore away the post-its and threw them away into the garbage. Sehun simply watched, sitting on the edge of his own bed, humming softly to a nameless song. He watched the now bare wall, devoid of any yellows after the years. It suddenly occurred to Sehun that this would be their last night here — their own make-shift sanctuary.

You know, he started suddenly. Sehun tore away his gaze from the wall and to him. We should leave our mark here.

Sehun shot him a questioning look. What mark?

He grinned, fished out a sky-blue marker from his backpack. This.

He shifted his bed so part of the wall that had been hidden by it was shown and gestured Sehun to come. Sehun obeyed and crouched down next to him.

Watch, he smirked and began writing something on the wall.

Oh Sehun the future world’s best dancer was here.

Sehun blushed. H-hyung… that’s embarrassing…

But it’s not! Come on, your turn, he laughed, shoving the marker into Sehun’s hands.

Sehun stared at the wall, eyebrows knitted, fingers fidgeting. What should I write… he mumbled to himself.

I don’t know, he laughed, what do you think of me?

Sehun stopped at that. What…

Write it, he smiled. What do you think of me, Sehun?

Sehun stared at him for a good minute.

A small smile made its way to his own lips.

Sehun uncapped the marker and began writing.

iv.

Sometimes he would leave his blanket behind in Korea when they go to China for promotions. It’s unintentional because he’s forgetful like that.

At those times, Sehun would wrap himself with it, cocooned in the comfortable warmth he has eventually become used to over the years.

It smelt of sunshine, lazy Sunday mornings, and the scent of white musk — the scent of him. Sehun really liked the feeling of being wrapped in those scent, because then he could almost pretend that he was there with him, holding him close.

(Oh how he wishes.)

Sehun often watched their Mandarin counterpart perform on his laptop late in the night (or very early morning, depending on their tight schedules). Sehun would see him dancing and singing passionately, smiling and laughing happily.

And then Sehun would think that life was perfect for the both of them, like this.

Because as long as he’s happy, Sehun would do anything for him.

v.

It’s tiring — the long hours of constantly dancing and singing.

The similar questions and rehearsed answers.

The screams.

The screams.

The screams.

Sehun wondered when it first began.

It’s as if everything had always been this way. Over the years Sehun had looked into those eyes many times — and he didn’t think he’d grow bored of it anytime soon —. They always told the things his lips wouldn’t say. The depth of his soul and the color of his heart. The things too dangerous for words and actions.

Sehun saw, and eventually Sehun listened.

Happy tunes, sweet melodic songs, sorrowful ballads, heavy rock metal.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

And eventually, of course — the screams.

vi.

Kyungsoo broke down first.

Baekhyun was next.

Sehun looked at him and started counting.

vii.

Xiumin.

Kris.

Jongin.

Tao.

viii.

Kris left a week prior their first solo concert without warning.

It was chaos, that day. Angry shouts and yells everywhere. Everyone was just too busy yelling at each other to notice that one of them had quietly entered his bedroom.

Sehun wordlessly followed, entered his room quietly and found him curling in the bed, wrapped in the blanket, sobbing, trembling. He took a deep breath and exhaled quietly. He approached the bed carefully.

Hey, Sehun croaked, touching his shoulder gently. Are you okay, hyung?

No answer.

It’s going to be okay, Sehun tried again. I promise you.

The sobbing stopped. The next second he sat up, the blanket fell onto his lap, revealing the crying man. The sight broke Sehun’s heart and he could feel his own eyes started to sting. Sehun held it all back and offered him a smile. Hi, hyung.

I don’t understand, was the first thing he choked out. Why. I don’t understand.

Sehun bit his lower lip. Maybe some things are not to be understood, hyung. We simply have to accept them.

But we promised — we promised we’d be together till the end, didn’t we?

Sehun opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out.

He was staring at Sehun, tears pooling in his beautiful eyes, and Sehun was speechless.

He clutched at the hem of Sehun’s shirt, burying his face on the younger’s chest. What do I do, Sehun? What do I do?

Sehun wordlessly pulled him closer, eyes fluttering closed, lips trembling. Tears are threatening to fall from the corners of his own eyes. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.

He calmed down a little at that and slowly pulled away; looking Sehun straight in the eye. His red-rimmed eyes were unreadable now. Sehun wished he could take all of his sadness away.

You won’t?

I won’t.

He paused. Why?

Sehun stared blankly at him before dropping his gaze on his lap.

Time was ticking away.

He’s starting to lost count.

Sehun wet his lips. Do you remember what I wrote on the wall? In our room back at the trainee dorm?

He nodded, eyebrows knitted.

Sehun shrugged. I thought it was obvious.

What’s obvious?

Silence.

He was looking at Sehun so seriously while Sehun simply stared back. And then Sehun couldn’t contain it anymore — he laughed. Loud, boisterous, and free. Oh my God hyung, you’re so dense I swear to God.

He looked stunned at the sudden turn of event. Sehun kept on laughing, flopping himself to the bed, hands holding his stomach.

He blushed. What’s so funny.

It took a great deal of Sehun’s willpower to stop laughing, look up, grin, and say nothing at all, hyung. Nothing at all.

ix.

Sehun knew his time was running out.

Jakarta had been the last straw. It was raining that day. Sehun’s injured and everyone was already worn out from physical and mental exhaustion. Sehun sat down on the chair that had been prepared for him and watched the others perform.

The screams were getting louder and louder.

Sehun watched him nearly trip down; yet he continued as if nothing had happened, a shy smile playing on his lips.

It was in one of the songs. Sehun couldn’t really remember which, because he could only remember walking up to him and took his hand in his, heading towards the main stage together wordlessly. There were so many things he would like to say to the older man in that moment, but he chose to stay mum. Maybe it would be better like this. Maybe he should give it a little more time. Sehun held on that soft, gentle hand tightly and didn’t let go until Suho told them to get in line.

But in the end, he decided to voice it out.

Because the time is running out, Sehun started his farewell, smiling slightly. I’ll be short.

First of all —

I’m sorry.

Thank you.

I love you.

x.

He finally broke down a few days after that.

He apologized repeatedly as soon as he woke up after passing out in the middle of practice. Sehun stayed by his side the whole time, hand never leaving his.

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry oh God I’m really sorry —

Sehun squeezed his had gently, a small smile on his lips. Hyung. It’s okay.

He cried silently with only the two of them in the room.

Hyung, Sehun wondered out loud after a few heartbeats. Are you happy?

xi.

He came in Sehun’s room one night. It was late and everyone was already asleep. Sehun was reading a book he’d bought a few days earlier. He had trouble falling asleep.

Sehun, he called out softly, peeking from the ajar door. Sehun looked up from his book, slightly startled. Hyung… what’s up? Why aren’t you sleeping?

He placed his index finger on his own lips and Sehun closed his mouth. Sehun made a zipping motion on his lips and nodded.

He smiled and quietly entered the room, careful not to wake the others up. I miss you, he said simply, quietly.

We just met, like, an hour ago, Sehun pointed out, amused. You miss me that much you can’t wait to meet me in the morning, preferably after nine a.m., like a normal person would?

He chuckled at that. Sadly, no.

Sehun chuckled along and smiled. So.

So. He echoed, a smile Sehun loved playing on his lips.

Sehun raised his eyebrows and waited expectantly.

Sehun, he finally breathed out, I’m leaving tomorrow.

xii.

Have you realized?

He looks at Sehun questioningly. They are at the airport, waiting for his flight home. It’s midnight and they are the only people in one secluded corner somewhere in the building. He raises an eyebrow. Realize what?

Sehun lets out a hearty laugh and shakes his head. You’re impossible, hyung.

All these years, Sehun smiles, cupping his face in his hands gently, all these years.

He blushes furiously, stuttering, wha… what do you mean —

I love you. I’ve always had, always will.

It leaves him speechless for a few moments. The first word uttered from his lips was: idiot.

Sehun frowns. Idiot —

All these years and you only said it now? Now, when it’s all over — how dare you, he chokes out, tears streaming down his cheeks. And then he whispers: oh God I love an idiot.

Sehun laughs. Well, I can’t kiss you if you’re still crying like that, Sehun says softly as he wipes the older’s tears. Don’t cry anymore, okay? You’re free to do what you want now. Have plenty of rest. Eat a lot. I love you.

He wipes his tears and chuckles. Yes, mom.

Sehun shakes his head. How about “Yes, my only one true love”?

He punches Sehun’s chest playfully. Don’t push it.

Sehun smiles. Are you happy now, hyung?

He mirrors Sehun’s smile, leans in, and presses his lips against Sehun’s softly.

I am. I really am.

I’m home.

Lu Han the free, most loved, and happiest person in the world was here.

A/N #2:

After months of writer's block, I finally managed to write this today. I'm really sad to see Lu Han leaving EXO, in fact I teared up on my way to school when I read the news yesterday, but I respect his decision and will support him. I sincerely wish him the best of luck. This fic is dedicated to him.

Sehun actually said those things (I'm sorry, thank you, and I love you) in TLP Jakarta. Although in this fic those words are meant for Lu Han, in reality he addressed those to the fans ㅋㅋㅋㅋ.

Lu Han did post "I'm home" on his weibo account.

LJ messed up my formatting so this is posted all centered, although I personally think it looks nice all centered, I will try to fix it later ㅋㅋㅋ.

I played Snow Patrol's You Could be Happy on repeat when I was writing this. I personally think that song describes this fic and how I (and at some degree, Sehun in this fic) feel about Lu Han's departure the best.

Zìyóu (自由) means freedom in Chinese.

This is the meaning of the title.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! ♥

Got free time? Please help a friend filling a questionnaire :) Thank you!

[oneshot] forevermore [iii/iii]

flightlesswish — Thu, 13 Feb 2014 07:36:06 GMT

“Something on your mind?”

Lu Han snaps out from his train of thoughts and realizes he’s been frowning. Kris’ lips are curled into a smile, but Lu Han can see exhaustion behind those sharp curves and lines that makes him feel a pang of guilt and sadness. “No, nothing,” Lu Han lies smoothly, a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes formed on his lips. “Hey, are you okay? You should get more rest, Kris.”

“Don’t worry about me. You should rest more. Yixing said your condition hasn’t been really stable,” Kris sighs. “Yixing — he’s been on the down side lately. He’s really sad to see you like this. He still smiles, that kid, but his smiles used to be a lot brighter, you know? ”

Lu Han pouts. “I’m alright, Kris. You shouldn’t worry too much, it doesn’t look good on you.”

A smirk spreads on Kris’ lips, thick eyebrows shooting up and Lu Han can feel heat crawling under his cheeks. For the first time after the crash, Lu Han is reminded of how stunning Kris really is. He reaches out to touch his lover’s face and Kris holds his hand gently, leaning closer to bask into the touch. There’s longing in his eyes and Lu Han feels a pang of sadness because this would be over soon, that he only has merely few days left to be with him. He can’t imagine what would happen when he’s gone, would Kris meet somebody new? It’s a selfish thought to expect Kris to stay faithful to him even after he’s gone, but he doesn’t really like the idea of Kris being with someone else, either.

And right there, the idea of dying has become very much real to him.

Three days.

Lu Han feels like crying.

“If I die,” the words trotted from his mouth suddenly and they feel bitter on the tip of his tongue. He briefly glances at one corner of the room, where Sehun’s been standing, wordlessly watching. “Would you promise me one thing?”

Kris freezes. “What are you talking about?” He asks slowly, but Lu Han is persistent. “Can you promise me that you’ll keep on living and live your life to the fullest?”

“What are you talking about,” Kris repeats and the words come out trembling.

“Promise me, Kris.”

“But you won’t leave me.” Kris trembles, and the next words coming out from his lips are not louder than a whisper. “You’re not leaving me, are you?”

“Stupid,” Lu Han laughs shakily and takes Kris’ lips against his.

Stupid stupid stupid —

From where he’s been watching, back leaned against the wall in the corner, Sehun flutters his eyes shut and wills himself invisible. For this once, he voluntarily lets himself lost in his own sea of thoughts.

Lu Han glances at Sehun, who’s been surprisingly silent for the past few hours, and knits his eyebrows. “You’ve been really quiet today,” he points out, eyes fixed firm on the blonde-haired angel of death.

Sehun stays still, mum.

“Are you sulking now?”

No answer.

“Okay, you’re scaring me.”

Sehun finally lifts his gaze off the floor and tilts his head slightly to the side, eyes now gazing right into Lu Han’s. His expression is unreadable, as most of the time, but this time it makes Lu Han feel somewhat restless. Lu Han tries not to waver and lifts his eyebrows, lips in a thin line, silently urging the other to say something.

“If I tell you that you’ve forgotten something really important after your first car crash,” Sehun begins, eyes unwavering. “Would you believe me?”

“What,” Lu Han stutters, “wha— what do you mean?”

“Would you believe me?” Sehun repeats, firmly, persistent.

Lu Han opens his mouth only to shut it again, frowning. He tries to search the meaning behind Sehun’s previous statement in the shinigami’s dark brown eyes but to no avail. “Well. It depends,” Lu Han says and pauses. “What do you know?” He frowns.

“There’s someone missing in your story.” Sehun begins tentatively. He seems unsure and careful. It’s not something Lu Han used to seeing from him, and it makes him anxious. Sehun says the next words carefully, “I’d like to think that he is — was — an important person in your life.”

“Who?” Lu Han’s voice sounds distant even to his own ears. It’s as if someone else is saying it out for him; a mere echo from somewhere far away, somewhere out of reach.

“You really don’t remember, huh.”

“I didn’t miss anyone,” Lu Han replies quietly, words trembling slightly. “I’ve asked about them all.”

Sehun’s smile is cold. “Then maybe you asked all the wrong questions, Lu Han.” He gets to his feet and walks closer to Lu Han’s bed, eyes as cold as his words were. He stops when he’s right beside the bed, thighs touching the edge. Lu Han’s frown grows deeper, but his heart is beating significantly faster. He’s about to open his mouth when Sehun leans in, closer and closer —

“Lu Han?”

Sehun stops midway and freezes, so does Lu Han.

Zhang Yixing is standing in the doorway. There isn’t any nurse following him, Lu Han notices as he manages to shift his gaze to the doctor. Yixing closes the door quietly behind him and smiles, approaching the vacant chair Kris usually sits on beside the bed. Lu Han forces out a thin smile in return and sees Sehun leans away from his peripheral vision. In a blink of eye, the Shinigami disappears into the thin air.

Lu Han inhales shakily as his heartbeats eventually return to its normal pace. “Yixing,” the words come out as a whisper.

Yixing holds his hand gently; a small, weary smile on his lips. “Xiao Lu. How are you today?”

“I’m too old to be called Xiao Lu now, aren’t I?” Lu Han chuckles, feeling slightly dizzy. His mind is a mess right now. “Why don’t you tell me how am I today, doc?” He jokes, squeezing Yixing hand slightly.

“You look beautiful, Lu Han. You always do.” Yixing offers kindly.

Lu Han huffs. “You know that’s not what I meant. How’s my blood test this morning?”

“But I mean it,” Yixing insist, “and you’re getting better and better. You’re going to be okay again soon, I promise.”

Lu Han smiles. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Xingxing,” He chuckles. “It won’t do you any good.”

A comfortable silence descends upon them and Lu Han mind wanders, most of which anchored to a blond-haired man with a pair of cold, dark-brown eyes.

“Kris,” Yixing starts again, voice slightly hoarse. “He’s a mess without you.”

Lu Han cuts his train of thoughts and refocuses on his best friend who has his gaze dropped to the floor. “You have to,” Yixing pauses and inhales shakily. “You have to get better and fix him.”

Lu Han doesn’t say anything and simply gazes at the younger. Yixing, who’s always been so kind and patient. Yixing, who’s been working harder than anyone else he knows to make his parents happy. Yixing, his best friend since as far as he can remember. It’s always been the two of them, until Kris eventually came. He can still remember them playing at the backyard with toy swords and Yixing’s carefree laugh like it’s only yesterday. It’s funny how in reality it’s been years past and Yixing in front of him now isn’t at all the same as he was back then.

“Yixing.” Lu Han says warmly, eyes gazing straight at the younger’s. “When I’m gone, you’ll take care of him, right?” When Yixing doesn’t say anything in response, he adds, “Not for me. For him.” A pause. “For yourself, Yixing,” he says softly. Still no response.

Lu Han swallows. An intake of breath. In. Out. “You love him, don’t you?”

This succeeds in getting a response from the younger. Yixing lifts his gaze from the floor, eyes widening, mouth opening and closing before clumsy words finally make their way out. “I don’t want you to— to die, Lu Han, God, no,” he trembles. “I love you both. I can’t. Don’t.”

Lu Han shakes his head slightly. “I’m so sorry. I… I was too blind to notice.” He pauses. “No, I was too selfish to admit that I knew, that I knew my best friend has been in love with my fiancé all these years.”

“No,” Yixing shakes his head firmly. “Don’t.”

“Everything feels wrong, Yixing,” Lu Han says hoarsely, “I don’t know what it is and it’s so frustrating.”

There are fresh tears rolling out from the corners of Yixing’s eyes now and Lu Han feels his heart clench at the sight. He hates making Yixing cry, he really does, and now he feels like crying too. Everything just feels unfair.

He takes a deep breath and decides. “I’m gonna ask you to do me a favor, and I need you to answer to my questions truthfully.”

Yixing simply raises his eyebrows, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

“Did I ever know anyone named Oh Sehun?”

What have I done?

Lu Han covers his face with his the palms of his cold hands, trembling slightly as tears starting to fall. Yixing left quietly a few moments earlier when he’s finished and Lu Han had been holding back the tears throughout Yixing’s story although his heart breaks with every word the younger said.

(“You had been together for barely two months yet you’re already madly in love with each other. I’ve never seen you like that, Lu Han, that’s how much you loved him. That night you said you’re going on a date with him, and the crash — the crash happened.

“He died on impact. There’s nothing we could do. His parents brought him home the next day to hold his funeral and never came back ever since. We couldn’t contact them and when you woke up days later with amnesia we thought— we thought it would be easier for you to live on without any memories of him.

“Kris— he’s loved you for years, you know? You’re all he sees,” Yixing smiles shakily. “Your parents have known him for years and you know how much they adore him. It was a perfect opportunity and it was — it was easy, to make you fall in love with him.”)

He feels sick in the stomach. He lets out a low moan and curls slightly to the side, eyes clenched shut. This isn’t happening, he tells himself, it’s all a dream.

He felt a gentle brush across his cheeks.

A ghost of touch from the past.

“Sehun,” he hears himself whisper. “Sehun, are you there?”

He slowly opens his eyes to find no one. He’s still alone and everything is still very much real.

There’s a trembling yet gentle touch on his wrist after awhile.

Unspoken I’m sorrys hang in the air, wrapping him closer to a presence so close he cannot see.

When consciousness begins leaving him, a familiar silhouette comes into view. Strands of messy jet-black hair fall perfectly just above a pair of brown eyes. A sight so familiar; a sight that reminds him too close of home, if not for something long ended with something akin to crescent moon shadows behind.

Lu Han is taken to the emergency room on the twelfth night.

It’s a rather quiet night outside. Sehun watches in silence, his back against the wall in the less busy part of the room, as the doctors and nurses surround the now unconscious man laying helplessly on the bed, skin as pale as the bed spread beneath his frail body. He raises his gaze from Lu Han to the clock on the wall. It’s a little over eleven p.m.

He’s only got an hour left.

Do it, Jongin’s voice echoes in his mind. He shakes the voice off his mind and sweeps his gaze across the room. Yixing and a few nurses are busy keeping Lu Han alive; orders are shouted and hissed, face scrunched in concentration, desperately attempting to pull Lu Han back to consciousness. Yixing’s face is almost as pale as his best friend, but his hands are still surprisingly steady. Sehun knows he knows he shouldn’t make any mistake now.

But Sehun also knows that any of those attempts won’t work.

Well, not that he’s now here, anyway.

He eventually averts his focus towards the door. Leaning just behind the door is Kris. He’s trembling hard, hot tears streaming down his face. His usual neat jet-black hair is now a mess. He’s only accompanied by empty benches in the long, quiet corridor. There’s no one to tell him that it’s okay. That it’s going to be alright.

(It isn’t.)

Sehun feels something akin to pity for him, to be honest, but there’s nothing he can do about it, really. Lu Han has to die. He should and would leave Kris behind in this world. Well, it’s not that the person who dies would have it easy.

Lu Han’s heartbeats eventually return to normal minutes later. Yixing steps back from the bed and leans against the nearest wall, panting, sweat beading on his temples; his bangs wet against his forehead. He’s still pale which is of course reasonable. He may be a professional doctor and has had people dying on him but Lu Han is someone very close to him, after all. He mumbles instructions to the nurses, which Sehun can’t really hear and comprehend anyway, and walks out of the room.

Sehun stands still as the nurses check for Lu Han’s vital signs before eventually heading out of the room as well. Lu Han’s soft breathing, almost too faint to hear, and the beeping of life supporting machines fill the room clumsily when the door is finally shut. Sehun watches the weak rises and falls of Lu Han’s chest, a frown on his usually emotionless face as if watching the sight is physically hurting him. He closes his eyes, teeth digging into his lower lip, thoughts running wild in his mind. He seems to be deciding something. Hands of time tick louder to his ears, roughly telling him that he only has a little time left.

The twelfth day will be over very soon.

When he opens his eyes, his expression is calmer. He approaches the sleeping figure slowly, carefully, as if afraid the slightest movement would wake the other up.

He opens his mouth. “Lu Han.”

No response.

He’s about to touch the older when Lu Han finally flutters his eyes open. He blinks a few times weakly before fixing his gaze on the taller man. For a moment they both freeze until Sehun can see the other’s hand tremble, as of wanting to reach out; reach out to him, but to his own surprise he takes a step back. He can see confusion and moreover hurt flashing in those dark-brown eyes. It’s the first time Sehun wills himself visible to the other after what happened the previous day.

“Hi,” Sehun starts. His voice is thick and he can’t decide whether he likes it. He needs to do his job soon and he needs to look and sound convincing as an angel of death. He clears his throat and decides to repeat again, bolder this time. “Hi.”

He braves himself and takes a step forward. “It’s a good thing that you can’t talk right now. It’s kinda annoying to hear you talking sometimes,” He chuckles. He doesn’t get much reaction from Lu Han, probably because he’s too weak to, more than anything. “I think I have to… tell you some things.”

Sehun continues. “All the things Yixing said to you are true. We knew each other,” he pauses. The words don’t taste quite right. “Okay, a lot more than that, actually, but I won’t go into the details. For now.”

He glances at the time. “You see, there are two ways of picking up souls,” he says softly, diverting his focus back on Lu Han, a small smile on his lips. “First is just wait for the soul to release itself from the body which usually doesn’t take much time. Some people need us to pull them out, though, to make it quicker and easier. Some of us have a really hectic schedule anyway. The second is with a Kiss.”

“A Kiss forcefully brings out a person’s memories chronologically since his birth, like a movie, and in some cases it even shows a glimpse of After Life. In a way it hurts because of the memories, but sometimes it makes a person easier to accept their death instead. We rarely do that especially these days, you know, since we have to be quick and move on to our next assigned soul. We don’t want to hurt anyone, either. Contrary to popular belief, we’re not that evil, you know? We do that usually to convince particular souls to… what should I say. To convince, I guess; a plea, that death won’t be as bad as it seems.”

The fluctuation of line showing Lu Han’s heart rate is getting slower and slower. The rises and the falls are getting weaker, the soft green line threatening to lie flat down any time soon. Lu Han feels like the air has grown thin around him and his head aches so bad he wants to scream at Sehun to just end this already, but instead he tries hard to stay awake as long as he can and listens to the rest of what Sehun wants to say. After all, he can only give Sehun that much.

For now, at least.

Sehun gaze softens. “I understand that what you would later see probably wouldn’t change anything. I completely understand that you’ve erased me completely from your life and it’s been years; but I want you to allow me to take you back to those times. I know it’s a selfish thing to ask, but I really want you to at least know what we once were. What we once had.”

“Technically speaking I don’t really need your permission to do that, but I think I should warn you because it’s gonna hurt a little, I guess.” Sehun smiles and in the dim lighting Lu Han won’t be able to see the peach color on the younger’s usual pale cheeks as heat creeps under his skin.

And then he leans in.

I… I don’t want to lose you, hyung.

Sehun flutters his eyes open and immediately winces in reflex as bright lights pouring onto his vision through the windows, producing black dots dancing dancing around his vision. He groans and clamps his eyes shut again, pulling the blanket up to cover his face to protect him from the light. In the process, he learns two things: first, he’s forgotten to cover the windows with the curtain when he got home last night (actually he got home at two a.m. — which is a very early morning, really); and second, he’s very much late for breakfast.

It may be very well past noon already.

It takes him ten more minutes to finally decide that he should be up. To rise and shine or whatever grossly sweet things Chanyeol always says every morning. He makes himself a bowl of cereal and takes a quick shower. He feels slightly chilled and wonders why, because it’s in the middle of a freaking July.

The street outside is, he finds out with annoyance and slight amusement, blanketed with snow when he heads out. Someone in the third level will get into trouble, he thinks dryly as he heads to the fourth level. Third level is the Weather Control Department. Things like this rarely happens, of course, because Zhou Mi, the head of the department, values discipline and precision highly and besides, as far as he and most of the After Life population know, Zhou Mi isn’t too fond of snow and winter.

A familiar deep, beautiful voice greets him when he arrives. “Sehun-ah!”

Sehun feels a smile blooms on his own lips, eyes turning into a pair of crescent moons when he sees Baekhyun walking towards him and eventually pulls him in for a hug. “Baekhyun-hyung. Good, uh, afternoon?”

“This is too cold to be called a good afternoon,” Baekhyun sighs. He’s wearing a decent amount of clothes to shield him from the cold, Sehun notices, but then again Baekhyun’s always been weaker when it comes to cold weather. “I heard Minseok-hyung kinda messed things up.”

“I see,” Sehun says sympathetically. Minseok never made such a clumsy mistake before, he thinks. “Maybe something distracted him, it’s very unusual of him,” he wonders out loud. Baekhyun shrugs in response and smiles a bright, toothy smile again. “So what brought you here today? You’ve been around here so much lately, I wonder what could possibly be the reason?”

“What?” Sehun stares at him blankly for a second and blushes. “Uh, I…”

Baekhyun gives him a Curious Eyes and widens them innocently. “Yes?”

“Stop teasing Sehunnie, Baek,” Chanyeol says as he pops out of nowhere and hugs his lover from behind. Baekhyun pouts at this and Sehun gives Chanyeol a grateful smile. “He’s over there. He’d be finished for the day soon, I guess.”

Sehun’s gaze follows Chanyeol’s pointing thumb. In that direction, a familiar man with his hair the color of honey is talking to someone. The conversation seems to excite the man as he talks with hand gestures and a wide smile Sehun knows so well. If he blocks anything else, he can hear the man’s bright laugh as loud as his heart.

It takes another two minutes for the man to finally look at Sehun’s direction. When their eyes meet, his lips forms an o and it soon melts into another bright smile. He quickly ends his conversation with the man and jogs towards Sehun and Chanyeol and Baekhyun.

“Lu Han!” Baekhyun beams and pulls the taller into a hug. “Sehunnie’s been waiting for you.”

“Has he,” Lu Han says brightly, brown eyes staring playfully at Sehun who quickly denies with stammered words trotting out from his trembling lips (Of course not, I was only walking by —). It earns laughter from his hyungs and results in heat creeping under his skin to his cheeks.

“Looks like the newbie’s debut show would be cancelled tonight, since it’s outdoor and I don’t think this is going too stop anytime soon.” Chanyeol says sadly as he looks up, lifting his palm up in the air, gathering a small amount snow which starts falling on his gangly palm. Sehun lifts his own gaze to the cloudy skies and nods. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Too bad, though. I’d like to see him singing. Kim Jongdae, isn’t it? Came in last month. Heard he’s really good — bet not as good as you, of course, Baekhyun-hyung,” Sehun adds sheepishly and Baekhyun beams in delight.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind, I’ll go first. The cold is killing me,” Baekhyun smiles apologetically, sleep clouding in his eyes and as if in reflex, Chanyeol tightens his embrace around the smaller man. “Oh no! Poor Baekhyunnie, Chanyeol will protect you from the cold!” He says and quickly guides sleepy Baekhyun away after winking at Sehun and Lu Han as some sort of see ya! or maybe something much more. Sehun thinks wholeheartedly he'd rather not know.

“They’re so adorable,” Lu Han sighs fondly and starts walking. Sehun quickly follows until they’re walking side by side. Somewhere between white cold breaths and reddening cheeks, they find their hands linked together. None of them remembers who initiate it first, but none of them seem to care, either.

“I still don’t quite understand why you applied for the Love Department.” Sehun starts casually as they walk, breath turning into white smokes despite the growing warmth he feels inside. “I thought you’re going to my department.”

“So I can be with you 24/7? Pfft,” Lu Han scoffs mockingly but after a thought, his gaze softens and there’s a small smile tugging at his lips. A comfortable silence descends upon them and Sehun waits, not retorting as he usually would, slipping his free hand into his pocket. It’s getting colder. Lu Han seems to notice this and squeezes the hand he holds gently. It succeeds in giving Sehun more warmth and the younger squeezes back in return, smiling slightly; a wordless yet sincere thank you. Lu Han’s next words contain a certain warmth to them. A warmth which results from something he’s fond of; something he holds dear. “I have to take care of Yixing and Kris, I think. Help so they can work it out. It’s the least I can do for them.” He says, only loud enough for both of them to hear.

“I see.” Sehun whistles. Then he pauses. “Do you… regret it?”

Lu Han stares at him, eyebrows raised. “Regret what?”

Sehun takes a moment to find the right words and drops his gaze to their intertwined fingers. “This.”

Us.

Lu Han stops walking, making Sehun stops along with him, and follows the younger’s gaze. He frowns slightly but merely for a few seconds, as if struggling mentally whether he should say whatever it is in his mind at the moment, mulling over the words. “I’ve been thinking,” he finally says tentatively. Sehun raises his gaze, eyebrows arched in question, silently urging the older to go on. Lu Han is avoiding his gaze now, eyes on sky. The clouds are now cotton-white, fleeting around comfortably around the blue sky. The snow, he notices, has stopped falling. Lu Han bites his lip. “I’ve been thinking about…” he pauses, takes a deep breath, and releases it with a sigh, eyes closing. “This.”

“It’s been two months since I… came here. You’ve shown me everything and I’ve done a lot of thinking; I think I haven’t been thinking that hard for the last couple of years, but — there’s something. I can’t really explain it, I’ve never been good with words, but there’s something,” he stares straight at Sehun now and Sehun can see frustration, sadness, confusion, and some more raw emotions dancing in those eyes. Lu Han’s next words come out choked. “You were real. I know. I understand. But so was Kris and everything else that came after you — ”

“Shh,” Sehun cuts in, involuntarily steps back and releases Lu Han’s hand from his. “Just. It’s okay. I understand. I can — ” he takes a deep breath.

You can what? The voice inside his head asks lazily.

Let him go? It continues, cold and merciless. Sehun shudders.

You’re not a hero, Oh Sehun.

“No no no no,” Lu Han shakes his head quickly, taking Sehun’s hand back in his, a hint of desperation in his voice. “That’s not what I meant,” he says, “Even before I knew… I’ve felt something. About you. You felt so familiar, and it’s strange, because as you know I didn’t remember ever meeting you. It didn’t make any sense to me. But now that I do — “ he pauses. “I won’t say it’s gonna be easy, but I’m willing to try.” A small, hopeful smile with a small trace of sadness is playing on his lips. “Again.”

A small chuckle. “After all, I did promise you. Remember?”

Sehun simply stares at him blankly. There are just so many emotions whirling around inside him that he thinks he can’t feel properly at the moment. “What. What?”

“Is forever good enough for you?” Lu Han asks, a soft smile playing on his lips.

This sounds terribly familiar, Sehun thinks numbly. He pauses and searches into his tangled strings of memories. It must be there somewhere. “Huh?”

“I’m promising you forever, as many forevers as I may have,” Lu Han replies smoothly, as if he’s been rehearsing the line over and over in his head.

Oh. Sehun suddenly feels the urge to cry and laugh at the same time. His next words are slightly shaken. “Forever is an awfully long time to look at your face.”

Lu Han’s smug grin is annoying as ever, even with his teary eyes. “You love this face. Take it or leave it.”

Sehun leans in and presses their forehead together, eyes closed, a small chuckle escapes his trembling lips. “This was where — ” he takes in a lungful of air shakily. He shakes his head slightly, words stuck in his throat. “This was where it ended.” The words come out thick and quiet, as if he’s afraid if he said it out loud, something bad would happen and ruin everything.

A drop of tear.

Lu Han wipes the tear gently and shakes his head. “It’s never too late to start again,” he whispers softly onto the younger’s lips and flutters his eyes shut.

Under the clearing blue sky, Sehun mirrors a smile that matches Lu Han’s as their lips finally touch.

And this, I promise, is where we really begin.

“Instead of forever, promise me you won’t leave me again.”

“So you don’t want forever?”

“…”

“…”

“I do. Make it forever and you not leaving me again.”

“Well, technically, it’s you who left me. You’re the one who died, remember? Even after saying I don’t want to lose you, hyung, and poof!”

“…”

“…”

“You remember too much now it’s annoying.”

“…”

“Now shut up and kiss me again.”

“Okay.”

A/N #1: I can't Chinese.
A/N #2: I actually started writing this in September and wasn't planning to write this more than 5k words or something, but it kinda turned out to be like this lol. I was kinda busy last semester and couldn't write / fangirl as often and as much I used to /cries/. Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoyed this! ^^ /off to catch up on exo again.

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[oneshot] forevermore [ii/iii]

flightlesswish — Thu, 13 Feb 2014 07:22:38 GMT

Sehun never really thinks about his own death.

When he does, usually he distracts himself with playing one of his electric guitars or dance the thoughts away.

But this time is different.

It’s been two hours since he left the hospital room where Lu Han is fast asleep and flew back up for his two-hour break. He really should be back to Lu Han now if he didn’t want to get into any more trouble, but he just can’t make the thought go away, no matter how many notes he’s belted out with his Gibson Les Paul and how many steps and moves he’s executed in a series of dance. He finally sits in the corner of a dance practice room he usually uses with Jongin and gives up, white shirt pressed against his skin completely drenched in sweat. His back slides off the wall and onto the cold floor. After five more minutes passed, he completely surrenders.

It happened five years ago somewhere in Seoul.

Sehun remembers it all too vividly. Winter was near and it was cold, so cold that white smoke is coming out from between his pale lips with each breath, forming a mist of condensation on the blurred scenery behind the window glass. He remembers he was smiling and tracing the mist with his finger, drawing obscured lines and shapes like a child.

He was sitting beside the driver’s seat in a black Audi R8 with Guns’ n Roses’ Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door belting out from the radio, piercing through the silence of the night. Sehun clutched onto the seat belt with his freezing hand and averted his gaze to the driver, a smile played on his lips. “Hyung, let’s speed up a bit. It’s late and it’s not like there’s police at this hour patrolling here,”

“Why,” the man raised an eyebrow, eyes still fixed on the road. It didn’t take much time for a realization to dawn upon him and a smirk immediately adorned his rather feminine face. “Oh, does our law student here want to have fun breaking the law?”

Sehun ignored the heat on his cheeks and barked, “Shut up.”

“No kisses for the rest of the week~” the man sing-songed but sped up anyway. Sehun rolled down the window and cool wind blew his styled hair into a mess. He basked into the wind and began shouting words he never dared to say, eyes turning into a pair of crescent moons due to the strength of the wind. The sound of the car’s engine, Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, and his and the man’s laughter melted together into one and Sehun thought life couldn’t get any better than this.

The car slowed down before stopping completely before the traffic light, deserted of any other vehicle. Sehun leaned back to his seat and turned to the man, jet-black hair disheveled, face flushed. The man unfastened his seat belt and gravitated towards Sehun, a smirk on his lips. The next time Sehun knew, the smirk fell into the smile he loved the most and melted against his own lips, all warm and soft, just the way he liked it. It was a stark contrast compared to their first kiss: raw, rough, and dirty in one corner of a club where they first met a year previously.

“I love you,” Sehun choked out when they finally parted, vision blurred a little. The man raised his eyebrows in question but didn’t say anything, and instead a smile began from the corner of his lips, his dark-brown orbs glowed warmly under the dying red light against the windshield. “I love you too, Sehun,” he said softly. “Always.”

It might be a lie, now that Sehun thinks about it, but at that time, it was good enough. To love and be loved by this man, even though just for a short while, was good enough.

Soft rains began to knock on the window glass but none of them moved. A shade of green had replaced the glaring red, silently urging the two to go, but they remained immobile, as if frozen in time. The man lifted his thumb to wipe a stray tear fallen on Sehun’s cheek, and whispered. “What’s wrong?”

Sehun lifted his hand to press the man’s palm closer against his damp cheek and shook his head, a smile trembled its way to his lips. “Nothing,” he says with a tinge of pink smearing over his cheeks. “I just. My life is a little bit perfect at the moment, you know, the fact that I have — “ he paused and the peach color on his cheeks was more obvious than ever. “You. I… I don’t want to lose you, hyung.” He said before he could stop himself.

And the man laughed, loud and free, forehead pressed against Sehun’s. “Is forever good enough for you?”

Sehun’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

The man’s laughter subsided into a small smile. “I’m promising you forever, as many forevers as I may have.”

The sleeping butterflies nesting in Sehun’s stomach chose that moment to come into wake and wander around, sending heat to his cheeks and a light shake to his coming words. “Forever is an awfully long time to look at your face.”

“You love this face. Take it or leave it.”

Sehun pretended to look pensive before nodding. “Forever it is.”

“Okay, let’s seal this.” The man said cheekily and leaned in closer, lips pressed softly against Sehun’s and Sehun could taste the sweet taste of the vanilla ice cream they had earlier that evening as he fluttered his eyes shut, picturing the man’s beautiful smile inside his head, over and over again.

It was the last thing Sehun remembered before a surge of red, black, and pain greeted him all too eagerly.

(This was where he first met Park Chanyeol.)

Moments later, when Sehun opened his eyes, a tall man wearing a white tee with a smiley face printed on it was peering over him, his curly hair pressed damp of the rain.

The man was smiling down at him, slightly less brighter than the smile printed on his almost-soaked tee. “Hi,” he said softly as he offered his hand to Sehun. “My name is Chanyeol and I am here to take your soul.”

Sehun turned his gaze towards the bloody man lying not far beside him, unmoving, and he collected the remnants of his strength to lift his finger off the harsh ground and pointed at the unmoving man, mouth opening to make a way for the words he wanted to say but the only one coming out is bright scarlet blood.

Chanyeol touched his wrist gently and carefully held Sehun’s scarlet-tainted one in his. “I am here to take you and you alone,” the taller man said gently and shifted his gaze a little to the right. “It’s not his time yet, don’t worry.”

“It will be over soon, I promise.” Chanyeol whispered and leaned in, hand reaching out to him, closer and closer.

At the count of three Sehun closed his eyes, and let go.

“Sehun can you hear me for the love of God, Oh Sehun, wake up,”

Sehun snaps his eyes open and is immediately greeted with a faceful of Byun Baekhyun. His eyes widen and he immediately pushes the shorter man away from his vision in reflex, body jolting upright. Baekhyun falls on his butt with a soft ow and Sehun scans his surrounding with caution, as if someone would attack him any second now.

His heart is beating fast, chest rising and falling quickly. He feels his eyes sting and with a blink, a drop of tear falls from the corner of his eyes. Everything looks surreal and fuzzy; as if he is in another world.

It is Baekhyun’s voice that pulls him back closer to consciousness. “Sehun?” His voice is softer than it usually is, but it’s getting bolder when he continues. “Are you okay?”

Sehun shifts his gaze to the older man and blinks twice. It’s getting clearer now. “Baekhyun-hyung?” His own voice sounds raw and choked.

“Yes, it’s me,” Baekhyun replies slowly and he’s sitting in front of him, his face wearing a slight frown. “Are you okay?” He repeats.

Sehun wipes his tears with the back of his hand and chuckled slightly. “Yeah, I guess.” His lips form a faint smile, red-rimmed eyes softening. “I’m sorry I pushed you like that, hyung. I really didn’t mean to. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Baekhyun nods but his expression doesn’t falter. “What happened?”

“Nightmare,” Sehun shrugs and inches closer to the wall, resting his back against the cold surface. Baekhyun doesn’t reply to this immediately, expression turned pensive, and by the time he says something Sehun’s heartbeats has returned to its normal rate. “It’s about the car crash, isn’t it?”

Sehun inhales deeply and nods wordlessly. There’s a hint of sadness and pity in the smile forming on Baekhyun’s lips and Sehun looks away, gaze dropped to the floor, eyebrows furrowing. He doesn’t need pity. Not from Baekhyun. Not from anybody.

“I’ve been looking for you because Chanyeol told me about your current assignment,” Baekhyun begins tentatively. “I kept missing the timing to meet you during your breaks, and I was sure I missed it again today but there you are.”

Sehun looks at the clock hung on the wall to his right instinctively. He’s four hours late now. Damn. “Damn,” he decides to voice out his internal frustration. “Would you please not tell anyone about this. I don’t really want to get suspended again,” he pleads the older man who merely smiles.

“I think you do need a break. It’s okay, I won’t tell anybody.” Baekhyun stops and adds almost as an after thought, ”Not even Chanyeol, yes.”

Sehun gives Baekhyun a wide, grateful smile, because Chanyeol can’t really keep his mouth shut sometimes. Well, most of the time, actually. So he smiles, “Thank you, hyung. I really appreciate it.”

There’s something in Baekhyun’s eyes that makes him unable to look away, gaze held onto those warm hazel eyes. They are kind of mesmerizing; a little bit infatuating, even, and Sehun wonders if every other angels who work in the Love Department has similar effect and whether Chanyeol first fell in love with Baekhyun for this very reason.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” Baekhyun asks, effectively cutting Sehun’s train of thoughts. Baekhyun wets his lips and Sehun clears his throat. “Ask you what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Baekhyun says as he inches closer and opts to sit beside the younger, hugging his knees close to his chest. He looks so little and fragile like this and Sehun resists the urge to lean closer and gather him into his embrace. He ultimately decides to awkwardly stare at the ceiling instead. “Perhaps something related to my speciality,” Baekhyun continues suggestively and there’s a hint of a smile edging on his words. Usually, Sehun would snort at this and hit the older man playfully before Chanyeol comes to the rescue (he always seems to be everywhere within Baekhyun’s vicinity), but this time he just can’t bring himself to so he asks: “Does true love really exist?”

“True love, huh.” Baekhyun lets out a chuckle and nudges Sehun’s ribs playfully, “I’ve never thought you’d ask such melodramatic question.”

Sehun pouts and tries to ignore the heat under his cheeks. “Shut up.”

Baekhyun laughs mercilessly before subsiding into soft chuckles and finally a smile. “Yeah, of course it does.” He answers finally and there’s unveiled sincerity in his voice, bleeding through the simple words. “It never ends.”

It takes a few moments before Sehun’s quiet reply comes. “Even if he doesn’t remember you at all?”

“Heart remembers, Sehun,” Baekhyun says softly. “You will keep gravitating towards each other, no matter what happens.”

“Even death?”

“Do you know how I got together with Chanyeol?” Baekhyun asks instead of answering Sehun’s question, head tilted slightly to the side. Sehun looks at him and shakes his head. What Baekhyun sees in Chanyeol has always been beyond him.

“You know, we’ve never really met during our lifetime,” Baekhyun smiles. “Funnily enough, we died on the same day and the same place. In fact, he was right beside me when it happened.

“Do you know about the bus accident near Gangnam, seven years ago?” Sehun nods, and Baekhyun continues. “We were there. I was sitting on the second row right beside the window and he’s on the third. It happened so fast I could barely understand what was going on. All I heard were the sound of screeching tires and deafening screams, and there were splintered glass flying everywhere. The next thing I knew I was laying on the road, my cheek pressed against the ground raw, soaked in my own blood. The pain was too unbearable, and I just wanted for it to end quickly. Even then I knew I wouldn’t survive. I could barely move my fingers so I lay still, simply waiting for the end to come.

“After a short while, I realized there was someone laying right beside me. I could tell he was tall even with him in such position. He was facing the sky I could barely look at and was holding something against his chest. It took me a few moments to realize that it was a teddy bear, its color had changed from what I assumed brown to wine red; thanks to the blood seeping out from his chest and arms. I simply stared at him and wondered what’s he like in a real life, because it’s not every day you could see a tall, grown-looking man holding a teddy bear in a public place; moreover if the said man was dying right beside you.

“His fingers moved after awhile, and his face slowly turned to my direction.” Baekhyun pauses and shifts his gaze to Sehun, eyes turning into a pair of crescent moons. “You might not believe this, but he smiled at me when he met my gaze. I knew it must have been painful, but there’s still life in those large eyes of his despite all of that blood which kept gushing out from his open wounds. I tried to return the smile but all I could form was a somewhat creepy cringe and that moment I could taste blood on the tip of my tongue.

“I was losing my hearing when I saw him moving his hand towards me and actually put it on mine. I could remember his trembling hand enveloping mine, and despite the damp sensation of blood against the back of my hand, it felt warm. The smile never left his face even when I finally closed my eyes, and that warmth was the last thing I felt before Kyuhyun-hyung came to pick me up.

“We met again a few hours after that, I suppose, during the death register. I learnt that his name was Park Chanyeol and the teddy bear he was holding was actually for his sister’s birthday. We applied for jobs and he got into the Death Department and I into the Love Department. We met everyday off-jobs and everything just works itself out. It’s only two years later did Jaejoong-nim — the Head of our Department — allow me to take a peek on his Book of Soulmates — yes, it’s a lame title, I know — where every destined pair of souls is listed. That’s when I found out that Chanyeol’s been my soulmate all along.”

Sehun listens to Baekhyun’s story obediently from the beginning to the end without interrupting and barely makes any sound. Baekhyun clasps his hands together, as if praying, and closes his eyes. “That’s the unique thing about soulmates. It doesn’t have to happen during our lives. You’ll keep gravitating towards each other even after death, and frankly I’m not too disappointed with the fact that I didn’t get to know Chanyeol during our lifetime, because death has offered us so much more, if you know what I mean.”

Sehun silently lets the words sink in and feels a strange sense of warmth gently engulfing him. To be honest, he doesn’t know what he should do and he doesn’t know much about the future; all he needs now is something to hang onto, something he can believe in, and even though nothing is certain yet, he wants to believe in what Baekhyun says. “That’s…” Sehun bites his lower lip, rummaging through his mental vocabulary list to find the right words to say. “That’s awesome, hyung,” he finally says, “now I get it why you’re with Chanyeol-hyung. I mean, he’s kinda creepy most of the time and you can, like, have all the men and women if you want to with that face and alluring voice of yours and you look really good with eyeliner on — “

“What,” Baekhyun frowns. “Oh Sehun are you flirting with me?”

“No of course not what are you talking about.”

“O… kay.”

Sehun clears his throat. “Anyways, I feel like I was just being enlightened.” He says sincerely. “Thank you so much, hyung, I really appreciate it.”

“Aww, c’mere you poor thing,” Baekhyun coos and pulls Sehun closer into a tight embrace. “It’s going to be alright, you know,” the angel of love whispers.

Sehun buries a smile in the crook of Baekhyun’s neck and decides to believe that everything is going to be alright.

Lu Han shivers as he feels all too familiar coldness gently embracing him whole and he flutters his eyes open. He’s sitting in his old car, an Audi R8, but he’s not the one driving. He is sitting in the backseat, staring ahead. The car is moving really fast and there’s a surge of panic rising inside him because they might crash into another car or someone, damn it, and he leans forward, mouth already opened to warn the driver but he stops promptly when he sees another him at the steering wheel, laughing.

Beside him is another man laughing along against the wind and muffled beats of Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, jet-black hair tousled by gust of wind surging in from the open window. Lu Han can’t see the man’s face, but he can feel his heart lurch at the sight; as if he’s been missing this for far too long, as if all of these has been locked away from him, invisible and unreachable.

They come to a stop when they reach the traffic light. The man sinks back into his seat and averts his gaze to the other him and Lu Han sees his doppelganger unfastening the seat belt and reaches towards the man, pressing his lips against the stranger.

Lu Han watches it all in silence, and by the time they part he can feel his eyes sting for unknown reason. He blinks and a tear falls from the corner of his eye, almost simultaneously with the Lu Han before him wiping a tear fallen from the man’s eye. He can’t hear what they’re saying to each other, the only audible sound left was a faint remnants of Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.

The red light has turned into a warm green glow and there are drops of rain knocking against the windshield now, slowly blurring the scenery ahead of them. Lu Han watches as he laughs, pressing his forehead against the stranger’s.

It is then when he sees an orb of light streaming ahead, blurred against the windshield, and it gets wider and wider until —

He screams.

The next thing he knows, there are are splinters of glass flying everywhere and his vision splotched with so much red. The world is turned upside down before him in slow motion. There’s pain everywhere and all he can think of is stop stop stop make it stop please I’m begging you —

S —

“Lu Han?”

Lu Han jolts awake and immediately realizes he’s screaming, his cheeks wet of trails of tears. He is trembling, choked sobs eventually replacing his screams and the next thing he knows, he’s gathered in a pair of long arms. His face is pressed against a soft fabric of cloth with a faint smell of lavender, his fingers travel north to tug at the hem of the shirt as he cries silently.

There’s a shy stroke on his hair after a few moments.

Lu Han takes one shaky breath and lets go of the embrace, looking up.

In the dim room, he can see Sehun is looking back at him, his amber locks look like they’re glowing in the dark. The Shinigami’s dark-brown eyes are unreadable, unblinking, his mouth slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of straight white teeth. Their eyes locked and no one moved, and honestly there are many things that could have been blurted out from his mouth at this moment, but the first thing that is successfully delivered from Lu Han’s brain to his mouth is: “Where have you been?”

Sehun’s smile is surprisingly soft. “Did you miss me?”

Lu Han tries not to think about the growing heat under his cheeks and pushes the taller man away, lips pursed. “Of course not, where did that confidence even come from.”

“Well, let’s see,” Sehun says, fingers tapping on his chin in a mock contemplation. “How about I heard you screaming my name in your sleep just a few moments ago.”

Lu Han gapes and attempts to retort, but all he really does is opening and closes his mouth like a fish taken out of the water. “What. I. What.”

Sehun raises a brow and snorts. “What were you dreaming about anyway?”

“It was…” Lu Han bites his lower lip. “It was about my first car crash.” He pauses and with a pointed look he adds, “Why would I be screaming your name?”

There’s a pregnant pause and Lu Han sees a hint hesitation in the other’s eye. Sehun finally clears his throat, eyes narrowed, crossing his arms across his chest. “How am I supposed to know? You’re the one dreaming it.”

“Pfft. ”

“Don’t you pfft me, Mr. Deer,”

Lu Han opens his mouth to retort only to close it again, eyes narrowed. “Why did you call me Deer.”

Sehun raises an eyebrow. “Because people call you so.”

“No,” Lu Han says slowly, “I am certain no one calls me Deer in front of you.” He raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

Sehun keeps a blank face on before finally sighing, fingers running over his hair. “I know Chinese, okay?”

Lu Han, strangely, displays one of his sweetest smiles in response. When Sehun is able to regain his composure again, Lu Han opens his mouth. “Ni shi malingshu ma?”

“What.”

“Ni shi malingshu ma?” Lu Han repeats patiently, saccharine smile never leaving his face. Sehun feels an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach but he cannot back down now so, lifting his chin a little, he stares challengingly at Lu Han. “Yes. Dui. Of course.”

And Lu Han bursts into laughter. “Did you even understand,” He says in between his fits of obnoxious laughter, “that I just asked you if you’re a potato and you said yes?” He pauses his laughter and wipes a drop of imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “Oh my God, you’re a potato. A potato Shinigami, oh my God — “

Sehun, realizing that his dignity has been crushed by a babyfaced spawn of satan man-deer, decides to sit on the couch and sulks. Yeah, Sehun is incredibly mature. “You know, for someone who’s gonna die in three days, you’re a bit too cheerful.” Sehun mutters after Lu Han has finally finished laughing.

“Ah,” Lu Han says, smile faltering. “I almost forgot about that.” He shifts a little and grimaces. “I do feel a lot weaker and sleepier each day.” He chuckles. “It almost feels like my body is giving up on me, you know?”

Sehun shrugs. “You’re supposed to be dead that day anyway. You should be thankful to me for that, at least.”

“So you’re saying I should be thankful to you for you being unprofessional at doing your job?”

Sehun’s expression draws blank. “Okay, I give up. Now stop talking.”

Lu Han is failing his attempt to hide his laugh and Sehun frowns, lips pursed, mentally telling himself that he only has to endure this for three more days before a strange sensation stirs inside him. It takes him a little while to realize that Lu Han has stopped laughing. He lifts his gaze slightly and meets with a pair of soft doe-eyes. “Sehun,” Lu Han’s voice is soft and genuine. “Does it hurt?”

Sehun gulps down, unblinking. “What?”

“Dying,” Lu Han replies quietly, lowering his gaze to his the IV line attached on wrist. Bluish veins are visible through his pale, seemingly paper-thin skin. Sehun feels his heart drops at the sight, just a little. “Are you afraid?”

Lu Han chuckles.“Yeah. A little, I guess.” Who’s not afraid of death, really? He does know certain people who say they aren’t, but he always thinks those are bulls. Who can guarantee whatever happens after death would be better than this life?

“It’s different with each person,” Sehun says slowly. “It doesn’t have to hurt. Although it also depends on how we pick up the soul, it’s still up to the person, actually. You wouldn’t feel a thing when your soul irrevocably leaves your body. Heck, most people doesn’t even realize until a while later.” He pauses, a small smile perched on his lips. “It’s the memories that hurt. If you just let it go, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“I…” Lu Han pauses. He remembers the pain a few nights earlier when he lay on the ground dying. It makes him cringe.

“What makes you want to hold onto life for so damn long anyway,” Sehun suddenly snaps, frown on his face, annoyance clear in his eyes. “Life sucks.”

“Well excuse me,” Lu Han shoots him a pointed look, “you’re an angel so what do you know about how humans feel?”

The frown on Sehun’s face grows deeper. “I do understand how humans feel, why would I not?”

“Because you’ve never been human, have you? I asked you if you were a human before and you never answered to my question!”

Sehun glares at him. “I was, okay,” he sighs. “I was human.”

“I’m sorry if yours sucked then,” Lu Han immediately replies mercilessly, eyes squinting, “but I have matters of importance to attend to and I can’t leave Kris just like that.”

“None of those would matter when you die, Lu Han,” Sehun lets out a humorless laugh. “Humans are easily replaceable,” he says bitterly. “Even lovers.”

Lu Han doesn’t immediately answer. When he does, any trace of his mischief is gone. “Personal experience?”

“Shut up,” Sehun snaps, looking away to the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. I guess it did suck,” Lu Han says after a thought and pauses. “But you do realize she had to move on, right? Or do you want her to wait for you forever and all that cliché things? If you do love her, you’d want her the best, right?”

“Is that what you’re going to do? To Kris, I mean. You’d still want him to live happily with someone else?”

Lu Han mulls it over a bit. “It’d be difficult, but yeah, I do want him to be happy.”

“Even if it doesn’t involve you?”

“Even if it doesn’t involve me.”

Sehun doesn’t reply to that and it’s all quiet once again. The clock hung on the wall shows it’s already past two a.m.

Sehun feels his head pounding slightly and winces. He stretches slightly before laying down on the couch, too-long legs dangling in the air. “Sleep,” he mutters to Lu Han as he flutters his eyes shut. He’s had enough for the day. “Good night, Lu Han.”

It takes another beat of silence before Lu Han finally responds. “Yeah,” he says finally, voice weary. “Good night, Sehun.”

“Wow. He really is beautiful.”

Sehun snaps his eyes open and sits up in reflex, bewildered, eyes immediately surveying his surrounding to search for the source of the voice.

There’s a figure standing beside Lu Han’s bed, his back on Sehun. The stranger is quite tall, perhaps just as tall as Sehun is, long legs clad in a pair of dark-colored jeans. His hair is just as dark, locks tangled in a mess of a hair. He’s wearing a plain white shirt.

The guy looks completely normal.

If only he’s not holding a scythe in his hand, that is.

Sehun narrows his eyes. “Kim Jongin is that you?”

Kim Jongin spins on his heels and eyes locks contact with Sehun’s, eyes widening and lips stretching to form a shit-eating grin. “Sehun! I thought you’d never wake up!”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jongin walks towards Sehun, casually putting the scythe on the floor and pulls the younger into a hug. “I miss you so I came down to visit my best buddy Oh Sehun!”

Sehun pushes Jongin not-so-gently. “Do you really expect me to believe that.”

“Well, no.”

“Get out,” Sehun deadpans and sinks back into the couch. Jongin ignores the statement and instead flops himself down beside him, slinging his arm over Sehun’s shoulders. “Don’t say that. How are you?”

“Cut the crap. What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Jongin begins tentatively, “I heard from Chanyeol-hyung that — “

“I swear to God if Chanyeol doesn’t shut his mouth soon everyone in After Life would know about this,” Sehun buries his face in his hands, “and think I’m miserable and pathetic.”

Jongin raises an eyebrow. “Are you not?”

“…”

“Exactly,” Jongin nods firmly. “So let me be a great friend and be here beside you and hold your hand through this crisis of yours,” he says and holds Sehun’s hand for emphasis. Sehun gives him a horrified look and swats his hand away. “No, get out.”

Jongin simply rolls his eyes and motions toward the sleeping man. “What are you going to do,” he says quietly now, “I know you still love him. You’re really hopeless, you know that?”

“The only thing I’m going to do is to kick your ass out of here.”

“Sehun,” Jongin says patiently, “you should have mercy on this ass. I haven’t even managed to confess to Kyungsoo yet.”

“Pathetic.”

“I will wake Lu Han up and tell him horrible stories about you.”

Sehun opens his mouth to retort but nothing come out, too speechless at Jongin’s childish threat. He lets out a sigh, crossing his arms. “He has someone else now,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. “He doesn’t need a guy from the past he doesn’t even remember of.”

“You’re hopeless, Oh Sehun. Do you really want to give up on him just like that? Besides, he’s dying. How many days does he have left? You can always tell him directly about what really happened between the two of you and live happily ever after and all that shit in the After Life, what’s the problem?”

“He has someone else now,” Sehun repeats tiredly. “He’s not the same person as he was back then.”

“This Lu Han doesn’t know me,” he continues, a small smile rising from the corner of his lips. “This Lu Han doesn’t love me. To him, I did not exist. To him, I don’t matter.”

Jongin doesn’t reply for a long time and Sehun doesn’t make an effort to say anything more, either.

“I know you’re late on purpose, that day,” Jongin says finally as he stands up, stretching his arms casually. He turns his gaze back to Sehun, a small smile on his lips. “Snap out of it, Sehun. Do it when the time comes.”

“It will only hurt him,” Sehun hisses, but Jongin simply smiles and says, “You know what you want.” And with that, Jongin disappears, taking his scythe with him.

“What I want,” Sehun repeats solemnly after Jongin’s gone, eyes looking at Lu Han: at the steady rise and fall of his chest, at the peaceful look on his beautiful face.

What do really I want, Lu Han?

[oneshot] forevermore [i/iii]

flightlesswish — Thu, 13 Feb 2014 07:09:17 GMT

Title: Forevermore

Author: flightlesswish
Pairing(s): Sehun / Lu Han, Kris / Lu Han, Baekhyun / Chanyeol, etc.
Genre: Romance, ~~Humor~~
Rating: PG
Length: 16,000~ words
Warning(s): (highlight to read) Character death
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

FOREVERMORE

It starts with the soft melody of Debussy’s Clair de Lune and dull knocks of raindrops.

Lu Han slows his black Mercedes down before ultimately stops, the red light glaring from the traffic light is blurred against the windshield of his soaked car as the rain pouring heavily down to the earth. He turns the volume louder before sinking back slightly into his seat, his slender fingers traveling towards his throbbing temples as his eyes clench shut in distaste at the persistent throbs; a crease formed on his forehead.

Earlier today Kris, his fiancé, has texted him to meet up at the restaurant in Myeongdong to discuss about their wedding plan — which would be hold in two months, by the way — and to make up for Kris’ absence on Lu Han’s birthday last week. It’s not really Kris’ fault that he couldn’t make it, to be honest. Both of them never really have the time to go on dates since they’re mostly preoccupied with their respective works. The date tonight itself has been planned carefully so both of them can make it but, still, Lu Han should hurry if he doesn’t want to be late.

At the age of twenty-nine, Lu Han is a well-renowned architect in Asia. He’s currently working and living in South Korea, and unfortunately it doesn’t really grant him much rest time. He has been pulling all-nighters these past few days working on sketches for an upcoming project.

Kris, on the other hand, is a doctor at one of the biggest hospital in Seoul. He has to be available for his patients most of the time and Lu Han understands that his fiancé is needed by patients more than he is by him, but sometimes he just can’t help but to feel lonely, drowning himself alone in stacks of papers with various trails of graphite and ink of his imaginations and dreams.

He lets a yawn escape his lips and shifts his slender fingers to rub his eyes slowly. They feel heavy from the lack of sleep he’s been getting for the last few days, moreso with the melody of Clair de Lune nursing him gently, wrapping around him like an overly comfortable and relaxing cocoon.

He’s already on the verge of dozing off when an obnoxious honk from behind jolts him back to reality and his tired eyes meet with a glow of warm green light. He pulls the gear hastily and accelerates forward, still slightly dazed. The time reads seven-fifty p.m., numbers glowing in the dark from the panel in a warm orange glow. He still has approximately ten minutes until Kris would embrace him into those long arms of his and buries his face into the crook of his lover’s neck. Lu Han can almost feel Kris’ breathing warm and soft, a ghost of smile lingering against his skin. Lu Han squirms slightly at the thought, a small smile tugging on his lips.

He doesn’t see it come.

Just a mix of blurred yet blinding white and yellow lights.

But in the next two seconds, Lu Han will learn that death sounds like an odd symphony of Clair de Lune, pouring rain, and screeching tires.

And the screams.

(Well, almost.)

Lu Han opens his eyes to the crying skies. The merciless rain is now pouring at him, his senses numb. He blinks his blurry eyes but the much-anticipated pain never comes and instead, he feels rather light. He knows a lot of people say he should eat more because he’s deemed too skinny but this feels entirely different.

Well, much different, because he can see his own bloody wreck of a body laying down on the scarlet-tainted ground not far from him.

Shit.

He scrambles up instinctively and immediately crawls towards his body. He touches the arm and burning sensation immediately jolts through his fingertips up to his arm and suddenly he feels himself being pulled in, back into his broken physical shell laying helpless in front of him.

Then the pain.

The violent, dreadful pain.

Lu Han opens his mouth to scream but he can only manage to choke out blood, lots of it, almost pathetically to his own dismay. He’s back in his body and it doesn’t feel like this own anymore, because why does this feel so broken?

He remembers his own reflection in the mirror: of large dark-brown doe eyes, full pink lips, all smooth pale skin and Kris would embrace him from behind; lips whispering love letters into his bare skin and tell him how beautiful he is. Now he just feels hurt, broken, like a ragged doll being torn open; raindrops burn onto his open wounds.

Is this it? He thinks helplessly as he clenches his eyes shut, suddenly regretting his decision to let himself being pulled back in into this wreck that is his own body. Surely death must be more bearable than this.

But then — “Fuck.”

Lu Han flutters his eyes back open.

A boy in a black Metallica shirt and a pair of ripped jeans is peering down at him, eyes scrunched in what he guesses as a mixture of frustration and disappointment. His hair is spiky (despite the pouring rain it’s still perfectly spiked up — how much gel did this guy use, really?), hued in light pink, and Lu Han can’t help but think how odd it looks in this circumstance. He’s dying, for goodness’ sake, and the last person he will be seeing is this pink-haired hipster?

How pathetic.

Lu Han can feel his own crippled breath slowing down eventually. A faint sound of sirens roaring from distance registers into his mind and he shudders, his heart beating loudly in desperate attempt to cling onto life.

“Wh..?” He manages to whisper to the boy who is now crouching down beside him. The boy’s expression morphs from frustration into a stoic one almost immediately. It’s almost merciless if it weren’t for those warm dark-brown eyes, framed perfectly with dark kohl that sharpen the edges of his eyes despite the pouring rain.

“I am here to collect your soul,” the boy says solemnly.

Lu Han takes one good look at the boy once again and contemplates on how much blood should be sacrificed to snort. “Really.”

The boy nods. “Yes. I am the angel of death.”

“Your hair is pink,” Lu Han chokes almost hysterically.

The boy doesn’t look amused. “One should not simply judge an angel’s power over his choice of hair color.” He takes Lu Han’s bloody hand in his carefully and examines the latter’s wounded wrist. “Ten days,” the boy murmurs solemnly after a brief contemplation, more to himself than to Lu Han. “Twelve days top.”

Lu Han coughs. “What?”

“You have ten more days to live,” the boy repeats slowly. Lu Han could see something akin to boredom now floating in those brown orbs. “Or twelve, if you’re persistent enough, which I wouldn’t be recommending you doing.” The boy sighs. “It’d be really wonderful if you’d just die right now.”

As much as he wants to die right now than having to suffer this mind-blowing pain, Lu Han thinks he has every right to feel offended. Did this freak just tell me to die. “What the fuck,” he says, drops of scarlet spurting from his mouth.

The boy smiles wryly and stands up, averting his gaze to a coming ambulance. “Heechul-nim will get me suspended again,” he murmurs mournfully as the ambulance stops not far from them. The medics immediately come out and it’s only then does Lu Han realize that there are people watching them; but no one comes close. Judging from the state his body is in and the wreck of his Mercedes not far from his body, he can’t really blame them if they think he’s already dead.

Truthfully, he’s kind of surprised he’s not dead yet, really.

The boy looks up to the sky and frowns, the drops of rain nesting on his pale face slide across his cheeks. If he didn’t know better, Lu Han would think the boy is crying. “Twelve days it is.” The boy affirms with a blatant hint of sorrow. He then shifts his gaze to Lu Han again, eyes dark. “You only have twelve days left to live.” A lazy smirk grows on his lips. “I’ll be watching you.”

It sounds more like a promise than a threat.

Lu Han’s vision dims. The rain washes away the blood smeared all over his body, gushing out from his cut skin and through the torn fabric of his clothes; making a striking pool of scarlet against the black concrete. He blinks again and the boy offers him a half smile before turning on his heels and walks away from the scene, whistling a muffled tune amidst the rhythmic beats of the falling raindrops.

Soon, the medics are surrounding him. They check for Lu Han’s vital signs before getting him into the ambulance hastily, some of them shouting things he can barely comprehend anymore.

The boy is now nowhere in sight, but his smile is the last thing flashes in Lu Han’s mind before he finally surrenders to a pitch black darkness.

The next time he opens his eyes, all Lu Han can hear is the sound of his own heartbeats. He blinks and the color white enters his vision. He can’t say he’s surprised. Is this heaven?

But why is there a beeping sound if it is? And the oxygen support in his nostrils? He tries to turn his head to the left and feels dizzy almost immediately: his vision shakes and everything suddenly seems so ethereal. He regains the rest of his senses eventually and feels a gentle touch of soft fabric around his head, suppressing a series of persistent poundings.

The warmth circling around his right wrist comes a little later.

He shifts his gaze a little to the south and finds his fiancé asleep beside his bed, hand holding his gently and cheek pressed on the edge of the bed. Lu Han tries moving his fingers. “K...ris?”

He realizes how much parched his throat has become. How many hours has passed, exactly? Or has it been days?

The smell of disinfectant is light but it’s definitely there hanging firmly in the air, then he realizes he’s wearing a light blue hospital shirt beneath a thin plain brown blanket draped over him.

He’s in a hospital.

I’m still alive.

And the memories are now slowly coming back to him: the soft melody of Clair de Lune, the blurred yellow and white lights, the screams —

And the boy.

You only have twelve days left to live.

“Lu... Han?” Kris flutters his eyes open. His eyes are bloodshot and his usually neat jet-black hair is a mess. “Oh my God. Thank heavens you’re awake,” He squeezes Lu Han’s hand gently and places a chaste kiss on it. His lips are so soft against Lu Han’s dehydrated skin.

Lu Han swallows. “Can you get me water?” He asks weakly.

Kris smiles and gets a bottle of water sitting on the table beside Lu Han’s bed. He uncaps the bottle and puts in a straw before helping his fiancé to drink with it. “Slowly,” Kris says gently when Lu Han gulps the water eagerly and nearly chokes. “How are you feeling?”

Lu Han wets his chapped lips when he’s done drinking half of the bottle, a bitter taste lingering at the tip of his tongue. “Like shit,” he says but a grin stretches on his face. “How long had I been out?”

“Two days.” Kris answers grimly and takes Lu Han’s hand in his again, his hands easily enveloped Lu Han’s smaller one like a blanket. “Yixing said you’d probably never wake up,” he chokes and Lu Han knows the I know you’d probably never wake up died down in the taller’s throat. He feels a crack in his heart, but he forces out a thin smile as Kris takes his hand against the other’s lips and murmurs, “Don’t do this to me again. Ever.” The words rest gently on skin and it sends a warm, tingling feeling through his system.

Lu Han moves his fingers inside Kris’ hold tentatively, eyes downcast in pure regret. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kris shakes his head. “I’ll get Yixing, okay?“ He says gently and stands up, a small smile rises from the corners of his lips.

When he’s disappeared behind the door, Lu Han lets out a sigh. His starts head pounding and he winces at the pain. He feels slightly better although he can still feel pretty much broken.

“So you’re finally awake.”

Lu Han immediately averts his gaze to the source of the voice.

The boy from the night of the crash is standing not far from the closed door, just a few meters in front of the bed; head slightly tilted to his left. His hair is now bright red, styled in what reminds Lu Han of a lion’s mane. His hair color is a stark contrast to the boy’s very pale skin. He’s wearing a white tee and an over-worn pair of typical blue jeans; his feet hidden in a pair of black canvas sneakers. Lu Han frowns and pain comes almost immediately from his bandaged forehead, a moan escapes his lips. “You — what the hell are you doing here?”

The boy offers him lopsided smile, amusement drawn on his face. “I did say I’d be watching you, didn’t I?”

Lu Han deliberately dismisses the statement, feeling slightly better as the pain in his head subsided. “Why did they let you come in? How long have you been standing there,” he demands.

The boy leans against the wall, casually slipping his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “I’m an angel, remember?” His tone oddly reminds Lu Han of a jerk he met in a club a while ago. “I’m invisible.”

Not at all convinced, Lu Han knits his eyebrows. “Then why can I see you.”

The boy stares at him as if he’s stupid and decides to be vocal about it. “Are you stupid?” He deadpans. Lu Han simply gives him a leveling stare as a reply because excuse me, say that again to my summa cum laude diploma.

The boy raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like I want to. I did say it’d be wonderful if you’d just die right there and then.”

If it weren’t for the IV line and the pain tying him down, Lu Han would walk up to him and bitch-slap him hard in his smug little face.

But alas, life is unfair.

“It’s my mistake you’re still alive.” The boy says again, completely ignoring Lu Han’s glare that blatantly says I will end you in the most painful ways possible. “I’ll have to get it right this time.”

“Why the hell — “

“Lu Han?”

Lu Han stops and shifts his gaze to the opened door. Kris is standing in the doorway, behind him are two nurses and a weary-looking Yixing, although there’s a smile playing on the latter’s lips.

Still leaning against the wall beside the door, the boy smiles.

“Who were you talking to, baobei?” Kris asks carefully as he steps in to stand beside the bed, the medics behind him follow suit. Lu Han glares at the smiling boy and answers, “Him.”

Kris follows his gaze and his expression turns blank almost immediately. Yixing and the two nurses also averts their gazes to the wall beside the door, and their curious gazes morph into confusion. Kris turns his gaze to Yixing, who does the same simultaneously. Yixing shakes his head and Kris returns his attention back to Lu Han. “There’s no one there, Lu Han.”

Lu Han stares at his fiancé, big-eyed, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. “But he’s right there.”

Kris looks at the direction Lu Han has said once more before he heaves a sigh, running his fingers over his already messy hair. He opts to settle down on the chair beside Lu Han and Yixing wordlessly checks for Lu Han’s vital signs, one of the nurse scribbling down something on a paper attached to a red board she’s holding.

Yixing smiles as he puts the stethoscope off his ears and signals Kris to follow him towards the doorway. “He needs more rest,” he says to Kris quietly. “The hallucination is perhaps due to fatigue, but I think he’ll be okay for now.” A worn-out reassuring smile stretches across the doctor’s lips.

“Yeah,” Kris smiles in relief and pats Yixing’s shoulder gently. “Thank you, Xingxing. I know I can always count on you.”

Yixing simply nods before he leaves with the nurses, leaving only both of them in the room.

Or three of them, if you count the boy leaning against the wall beside the door.

Lu Han squints at the boy who still has his (annoying, Lu Han insists,) smile on. The boy crosses his arms across his chest and Lu Han can see prominent collarbones peeking as through the fabric of his white tee, wrinkled by the motion. Lu Han clears his throat and the boy raises an eyebrow in response.

“Rest, Lu Han,” Kris murmurs as he pulls the blanket to Lu Han’s chest, distracting Lu Han’s attention. “I’ll be right here.”

Lu Han averts his attention to Kris. “Are you in charge of me? Is it okay for you to stay here?”

“No, Yixing is. I can’t. I can’t, you know? I won’t be able to concentrate and I might end up killing you.” Kris gives him a weak laugh. “I have too much feelings for you, so. Yixing is a much better option, trust me.”

At this the boy snorts and Lu Han shoots him a glare before giving his fiancé a small smile, nodding slightly. His eyes do begin to feel too heavy to be awake any longer. Kris smiles and leans in, placing a kiss on Lu Han’s forehead gently. “I love you,” he says softly.

When he whispers I love you too, Lu Han can almost see the boy’s smile falters.

Sehun stumbles nervously into a tall building at the end of the block in the lowest level of the clouds, a gloomy DEATH DEPARTMENT in capital bold letters carved onto an ancient-looking piece of wood adhered firmly on the brick wall beside the entrance door greets him welcome.

It’s really crowded and noisy inside and it’s not really a surprise given the time of the day. It’s nearly midnight: the busiest hour in this particular department. Different quirks of angels (and, of course, freshly-reaped souls: some weeping, some frantic, and the rest simply have that Blank Face on) chattering away are scattered around the building; all mingled into blurred colors. Contrary to popular beliefs, the angels working in this department aren’t all gloomy looking with nasty weapons and all those scary-looking things.

Living in the After Life is pretty much the same with living below. You feel, you eat and drink, you also get tired and sick despite your increased strength and stamina, but of course — you won’t die again (that’s why Sehun finds the term YOLO a bit ridiculous because really, you don’t only live once — you only die once).

After your soul is taken by an angel of death, you would be guided to register yourself in the Death Department. You’re then allowed to mourn your own death for the maximum of seven days before you need to apply for jobs in available departments and after admittance, you get approximately a month training on your assigned role and that’s it, your “life” goes on.

You can see what happens in life below although you can’t come down unless it’s demanded by your duty. You also get to play and have fun after work, anything you want. For example: Sehun, aside of his main job taking lives and such, off-job he is the guitarist of EXO, a quite famous band in the After Life. He also dances and performs regularly on the seventh level of the clouds, where all entertainment in the After Life exhibited.

Plus, you do gain that ethereal angelic aura and hey, it really doesn’t hurt to become extra attractive.

But just like living below, a responsibility comes with the job.

Sehun gingerly gets in line to report his earlier failure in taking his assigned soul with several grim-looking others, crossing his fingers in hope that he would still be allowed to perform after this. It’s definitely not his first time and the Head of Death Department, Kim Heechul, had warned him the last time he did a month ago.

During his career of being an angel of death so far, Sehun has been involved in various incidents that can only be explained by bad luck and sometimes he really wants to cry because hello, he died young for goodness’ sake and all he gets after he died is this? He remembers his luck being quite good when he’s still alive. Has he used all his luck while he’s still alive oh God is that why —

“Sehun!”

Sehun turns his head to the source of the voice sadly and finds a breathless Chanyeol approaching him, all rainbows and sunshine with hot pink sneakers, washed blue jeans, and sun-colored tee; gangly hand swinging his spotless gotchic-style scythe carelessly. The sadness in Sehun’s dark-brown eyes morphs into annoyance almost immediately. “What,” Sehun scowls, crossing his arms across his chest.

Chanyeol now has that Creepy Smile stretches across his lips, eyes twinkling with eternal cheerfulness that Sehun thinks doesn’t match his image as an angel of death as he drops his scythe to the floor with a loud clang and envelopes him in a hug. “Sehun! My favorite!” Chanyeol coos and Sehun rolls his eyes because everyone knows who’s Chanyeol’s real favorite is. “We have another gig this Tuesday! You’re coming, right?” The smile grows even wider as he lets Sehun go, displaying a set of perfectly straight white teeth.

Sehun shoots him a glare. “I have to stay below again. Twelve days. No thanks to you.”

The older boy, who plays the drum in EXO, grins sheepishly. “You missed the timing again?”

“If you weren’t so persistent in doing that freaking an hour-long encore, I wouldn’t be.”

“But Baekhyun wants to do an hour-long encore,” Chanyeol sticks out his lower lip a little and Sehun instantly feels like he’s just murdered a puppy, “and we love our fans so much we can’t just — “

“Just,” Sehun interrupts, hand covering Chanyeol’s gaping mouth. He can feel Chanyeol’s drool on his palm and winces. “Shut up, okay. I’ve had enough headaches for the day.”

Sehun removes his palm off Chanyeol’s mouth and wipes the drool on Chanyeol’s sunny yellow shirt before training his eyes forward. He’s only three people away from the woman behind the desk now.

Chanyeol gets behind him and hugs him, resting his chin on the younger’s shoulder as if he’s done it a million times (which he probably has, actually. Sehun has lost count.) “Who is it anyway?”

There’s a brief pause before Sehun answers. “Lu Han, Chinese, a famous architect, twenty-nine.” He says nonchalantly and busies himself examining his well-manicured nails.

Chanyeol freezes momentarily at this and immediately drops his hands off Sehun before turning the slightly shorter boy around. He shakes Sehun’s shoulders, eyes as big as a saucer. “Lu Han?” Chanyeol asks frantically, “Holy shit, did you just said Lu Han? That Lu Han? Who is the heartless monster that assigned him to you?!”

Sehun keeps mum in response, eyebrows furrowed. After a minute of staring contest, Chanyeol knits his eyebrows and sighs. “I’m so sorry, Sehun.”

“Why are you sorry,” Sehun finally snaps, “Just. Go. Go away.”

The smile playing on Chanyeol lips is drastically dimmer; almost heart-wrenchingly sad, and Sehun can’t say he like it. Sadness doesn’t look good on Chanyeol, at all. Sehun softens his eyes and forces a thin smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to snap at you like that, hyung.”

Chanyeol shakes his head and fixes his gaze on the now empty gap between Sehun and the bored-looking woman behind the desk, waiting for Sehun’s report. “No, it’s okay.” Chanyeol bites his lip and shifts his gaze back to the younger. “Will you be okay?”

Sehun feels his the corner of his lips tugs upward slightly as he shrugs. “Yeah,” he says coolly. “Of course I will.”

Lu Han finds out the boy’s name the next day.

Kris is out to work again and so it’s only him and the boy in the room. The boy wasn’t joking when he said he’d be watching the architect. When Lu Han woke up earlier this morning, he was already there; leaning against the wall beside the door, a black guitar case slung on his shoulder; arms crossed.

“Sehun,” the boy says nonchalantly when Lu Han asks. He is sitting on the couch near the window now, an acoustic guitar on his lap. His hair is now grass green; his bangs falling graciously just above his smoky eyes.

Lu Han has, with some difficulties and after a series of denial, accepted the fact that Sehun is no ordinary being. “Can you just. Go away or something?”

“I am here to collect your soul,” Sehun says calmly with a hint of boredom, as if he’s said this for the umpteenth time. “This time I won’t miss.” There’s a determined look on his usually emotionless face and Lu Han thinks maybe he prefers the emotionless Sehun to this one because it somehow makes him feel immensely annoyed.

“So you missed. Right. An angel, missed?” Lu Han scoffs. “Why don’t you just keep missing and let me live in peace.”

“Shit happens even to angels, okay,” Sehun replies, frowning. “And no, it will cause horrible things and believe me, you don’t want to know. We need to keep things in check so everything can go smoothly. I shall not miss.”

“If you really are a Shinigami,” Lu Han says, “where’s your weapon? Aren’t you supposed to have a scythe or something?”

Sehun raises an eyebrow. “Shinigami?” He repeats, as if tasting the way the name rolls out on his tongue. “You read too much manga.” A wry smile grows on his lips. “But yeah, we do, although it’s not really essential to use that. It’s only used for a symbol, you know? So we look scary and shits.”

Lu Han snorts. “I didn’t see yours, even on that night; if you really were coming to take my soul, why didn’t I see you swinging one to look scary and shits?”

“Mine is still under repair.” Sehun replies grimly and his mind immediately flies to a particular incident four days previously, when he was assigned to a Chinese boy who was a wushu prodigy. The boy refused to be taken to the After Life and actually attacked Sehun, who used the scythe as a tool of defense, and resulted in his poor scythe being broken in two.

Sehun didn’t know he could be attacked by his own assigned soul, either.

Fortunately for him, Jongin, a fellow angel of death who was passing by after finishing his own job, came to the rescue and together they successfully brought the boy to the After Life.

Oh, well.

Talk about a rough night.

Lu Han gives him a skeptical look and Sehun pulls on a string in mild frustration. “Besides, like I said, we don’t need the scythe to actually collect souls. Usually we just pick up the souls and guide them to the After Life and that’s it. It’s an incredibly boring routine, really, it’s not as exciting as that you read in those mangas.” A pursed lips. “I’m a legit angel of death. I even have a certificate to prove it if you’d like to see.”

Sehun is as convincing as a potato.

“Really.”

“I also have many attractive angelic qualities, you know.”

“Like a green hair. Right.”

Sehun glares at him. “Excuse me, but what exactly do you have against my choice of hair color?”

Lu Han ignores him and moans, “But I’m getting married in two months.”

Lu Han shoots him a questioning look when Sehun doesn’t reply but instead starts playing soft chords with the acoustic guitar. Lu Han decides to keep mum and listens; really listens, to each flowing note and intake of his own breath.

“Death doesn’t wait for any weddings. It doesn’t wait for anything or anybody.” Sehun says quietly somewhere in between the chords, and there’s bitterness in his voice that makes Lu Han holds his gaze on Sehun’s downcast eyes.

“Are you always like this?” The question blurted out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He bites his lower lip as Sehun averts his gaze to him, eyebrows raised. “Like what?”

Lu Han lets out a nervous laugh. “Well, you know. Were you human?”

Sehun’s face is devoid of emotions and Lu Han can’t predict what would come out from those pale lips. After a moment Sehun shifts his attention back to the guitar and wordlessly starts playing a song; his long, slender fingers skillfully dancing around the strings.

Romance d’Amor, Lu Han recognizes a little later, and it oddly reminds him of a far away home he’s never visited for a long, long time.

“Have we ever met before?”

Sehun stops abruptly, eyes still fixed on the guitar. It takes him a few moments before a quiet sentence comes out from his mouth. “Have we?” He asks, lifting his gaze toward the other man. Lu Han simply stares at him for what feels like ages to Sehun, doe-eyes taking him in fully, as if trying to scorch Sehun’s image into his memory. “I’m not sure,” Lu Han finally says, a slight frown on his face. “You just seem… I don’t know.” He bites his lower lip, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “When you’re playing earlier, you just seemed… familiar.”

Sehun doesn’t say anything for a brief moment before he, to Lu Han’s surprise, smiles. It makes his heart lurch, and Lu Han doesn’t know what to say when a strange feeling that makes his heartbeats turn erratic dawns to him. Sehun smiles, and opens his small, lovely mouth. “Oh,” he begins, a thoughtful look on his usually emotionless face. “Of course, perhaps you’ve mistaken me for some famous idol?” He says kindly. “I know I have the look and the skill, you know, and it’s really not your fault that you — OUCH!“

Lu Han stares at the pillow he’s thrown hit the target, Sehun’s smug face, accurately and smiles proudly before turning his back on the whining angel of death. “Jerk,” he mumbles and closes his eyes, trying hard to prevent another smile that’s threatening to bloom on his lips.

“I have a question,” Sehun declares in the night of the seventh day. Kris has left home earlier and it’s just both of them in the room now.

Sehun is laying on the couch comfortably, lanky feet dangling on the edge. His hair is bright yellow today. Lu Han flinches at the sight, it’s too bright for his eyes at this time of the day, when lights are dimmed and eyes already lingering with sleep. He raises his eyebrows after his eyes have finally adjusted to the glaring color but says nothing, silently urging the angel of death to continue.

“Do you love your fiancé? Kris, I mean.”

The question takes Lu Han by surprise. He opens his mouth only to close it again, one two three, and his expression turns pensive. “Well, he’s my fiancé for a reason,” he finally replies after a brief contemplative silence. Is this supposed to be a tricky question? “Of course I do, what are you even talking about.”

Kris is his childhood friend. They first met on the first day of elementary school in Beijing and were always together, along with Yixing, until they graduated and Kris moved to Canada. They had kept in touch with each other until they met again in Beijing years later and got together eventually two years after they graduated. Honestly, Lu Han never really thinks that much on the whys, everything just fell into place. Much better than he had expected, actually. “What about it?”

Sehun shrugs. “You’re going to leave him in a few days. Better not wound him too deep.”

Lu Han falls silent and fixes his eyes on the ceiling. He hasn’t ponder much on the idea of dying in just a few days, and to be honest sometimes he forgets the fact that Sehun is here to take his life and not a friend visiting him. He blinks and a strange feeling of nostalgia wraps him gently.

“Actually it’s not my first time,” he says more to himself than to anybody after a brief silence. “I was involved in a car crash when I was 23.” He continues and pauses again, taking a deep breath. “The difference is, I lost my memories then. Not all, just a year or so prior to the accident. I didn’t remember the pain, the fear; nothing. I just woke up two weeks later and that’s that. The last thing I remembered was me drooling on a book when I was in the campus library studying for the finals.” A chuckle escapes Lu Han’s lips. “Kris helped me remember things, and everything just fell into place.”

“What a great luck you have there,” Sehun whistles and immediately earns a glare from Lu Han. Sehun unconsciously wets his own lips out of habit more than anything, really, and closes his eyes. “So you didn’t remember, huh.” He repeats slowly and flutters his eyes back open.

“Were you alone?”

Lu Han tilts his head. “Huh?”

“Were you alone in the car when it happened? Just like this time.”

Lu Han blinks and shrugs after a thought. What a weird question. “I guess. My parents never let me bring up the accident. They said what passed has passed, no need to dwell on the past. Besides, I managed to either remember or relearn all the important things.”

A kind of smile that Lu Han never sees on the Shinigami’s face grows on the his lips. “Important things, huh,” Sehun repeats. He then chuckles, low and mirthless. “I see.”

And that’s that. None of them speaks anymore for the rest of the night and silence fills in the room like a lullaby, slowly and gently cradling Lu Han into the brink of his consciousness.

Sehun is nowhere in sight the next day.

But Kris stays in with him today and everything should be just fine but as much as he hates to admit it, Lu Han thinks he’s already got used to seeing Sehun day after day a bit too much that it feels kind of weird not seeing him and his hipster hair colors, all ready (and eager, Lu Han believes firmly) to ruin his mood for the day.

Lu Han can’t help but to wonder where is he now, and what color is he wearing today? He begins to think that at this point, he won’t be surprised to find Sehun with a rainbow-colored hair one day.

He sighs and turns his attention back to Kris who’s giving him a questioning look. He forces out a smile, shakes his head, and leans in to brush his lips against the taller’s lips.

For the first time in years, Lu Han feels nothing of the spark of emotions that has always come with the contact. This time it tastes wrong, almost terribly so, as if something very important is missing.

[oneshot] redamancy

flightlesswish — Mon, 28 Oct 2013 13:32:10 GMT

Title: Redamancy
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing(s): Lu Han-centric, hint of Sehun / Lu Han
Genre: Tragedy
Rating: PG
Length: 2,300~ words
Warning(s): (highlight to read) Mention of murder, character death
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

REDAMANCY

(n.) the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

There’s a faint sound of water running behind an old door made from wood in the corner of the small room. It is rather dark in there with the lights switched off, one of only two sources of light available is a scarce amount of light streaming through a thin ventilation near the ceiling; the light falls directly onto the edge of a small, neatly-made bed with a folded thin white grey-striped blanket sitting on it at the opposite side.

Behind the undisturbed door is a man splashing a generous amount of water on his face after-shave, white shaving foam washed away by the water, revealing a pale white skin and pink plump lips. The man looks up after he wipes the remnants of water off his face with the back of his hand, turning the rusty faucet off, and gazes at the mirror adhered firmly onto the wall.

A man with a face of a bishounen from some shoujo manga the girls go crazy about and a pair of dull dark-brown orbs is staring back at him. His expression is rather unreadable with lips slightly parted, revealing a glimpse of straight white teeth. There are some droplets of water dripping from his at the tip of his messy dark-brown locks, each droplet steadily gravitating into the sink and disappears from the sight.

He shakes the water off his hair and switches the light in the bathroom off before heading out, a loud creak when he opens the door filling in the dim room. He walks towards the unoccupied bed and sits calmly beside the folded blanket in the dark, straightening his wrinkled dark-blue shirt and pants in silence. He has an important matter to attend to today and he’s determined that he would look his best.

After all, the one he’s meeting is not at all ordinary. He’s been waiting for four years for this, actually.

His gaze eventually travels to the wall to look of the time, an old habit when he’s alone, but there’s no clock in the room much to his chagrin. He sighs and opts to instead stare forward at the room’s entrance door. It is almost identical to the one leading to the bathroom, it looks as old and gloomy. The only difference is that it has small three bars — where enough amount of light for surveillance can stream through by — at his eye-level in his full height. He settles his hands on his lap, and waits.

There’s a glimpse of pale skin from behind the bars after Goo Goo Dolls’ Iris is reaching its end in his head. A soft knock follows shortly after. He can hear the sound of the door being unlocked, but he remains still; dry lips parting slightly to let his tongue moisten them.

When the door’s opened, a surge of lights come in with a tall man clad in a neat, spotless branded business suit. He winces at the lights and blinks a few times to refocus, nose scrunched up in discomfort. When the most spots in his vision have faded, the other man is already standing in front of him. He realizes sourly that the man’s wearing black today, a smile that matches his overall attire perched thin on his lips. He has always liked the man in his navy-blue suit better.

“Lu Han,” the man with the black suit begins, his voice steady. “How are you today?”

Lu Han can feel a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Good,” he replies. “Are we going now?”

The man blinks, as if unexpecting such answer, but he quickly manages to change his expression back to the one with the least amount of emotion visible. He clears his throat and mirrors Lu Han’s smile. “Yes,” he says. “When you’re ready.”

Lu Han rises from the bed and dusts off his clothings before offering both his hands to the man. The man stares at Lu Han’s extended hands and lifts his gaze only to find a smiling Lu Han. It looks surprisingly soft and genuine, doe-eyes without the slightest hint of fear are silently urging him to take those pale hands. The man swallows.

“Come on, Yifan. I don’t have all night,” Lu Han says with a hint of humor edging on his words, but the man in the black suit, Wu Yifan, finds himself unable to say anything to such simple words. Yifan stays still for another brief moment before taking Lu Han’s hand in his, ignoring Lu Han’s questioning stare, and guides him towards the light.

Beijing is a mix blurred skyscrapers and fading lights that night.

Lu Han watches the fast-paced passing sceneries go by behind the window with mild interest, hands resting calmly on his lap. Sitting beside him is Yifan, lips in a straight thin line, his thick eyebrows narrowed. None of them has spoken since they left the room. A pop song sung by some idols Lu Han doesn’t know is blasting on the radio, the only words he can seem to catch are heartless mindless and those words give Lu Han a strange urge to laugh.

“What’s on your mind?” comes Yifan’s voice after a few heartbeats. It sounds nonchalant to Lu Han’s ears and when he turns his attention to the taller man, the latter isn’t even looking at him.

“This song is weird,” Lu Han replies with a smile, “who’s singing it?”

Yifan finally gives Lu Han his attention at this, eyebrows lifted. He seems to be thinking of the answer before deciding against it and shakes his head, sighing. “Do you want to listen to any specific song?” He asks instead.

Lu Han shakes his head and laughs, “No, no, I kinda like it. It’s just… weird. I think it’s the first time I listen to it but somehow it sounds really familiar?” Lu Han pauses, a slight frown on his face. “Just forget it.”

Yifan’s questioning stare still lingers for another brief moment but he decides not to pursue the matter any further. “Okay,” he breathes out. “If there’s anything you want me to do, or anything you want to ask, just tell me.”

Lu Han hums and shifts his attention back to the world outside. The skyscrapers are starting to fade behind them and the sky grows into an even deeper shade of black. The sky is a vast dark cloudless canvas with stars shattered all over, as if mirroring Beijing’s city lights. There’s a crescent moon hanging amidst it all, shining the brightest, and Lu Han is reminded of a pair of warm dark-brown orbs hiding under a pair of crescent moons; of alluring smile and lost memories.

There’s warmth enveloping his hand after a few strings of thoughts and Lu Han averts his gaze only to find Yifan’s hand holding his, steady but still gentle.

It takes him a few more seconds to realize he’s trembling.

He squeezes Yifan’s hand tight, eyes closing, lips thin stifling sobs that’s threatening to escape his lips.

“It’s going to be okay,” the words shiver out from Yifan’s lips, “it’s going to be okay if only you tell the fucking truth — ”

“No,” Lu Han cuts in, shaking his head firmly, “It is going to be okay. It’s going to end soon. You’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“How come you expect me to be okay with this?” Yifan snaps, “I’m practically bringing you to your fucking grave right now and you expect me to be okay with that?”

“You don’t understand,” Lu Han shakes his head persistently; desperately. “Sehun must live.”

“He fucking killed people and now you’re going to die in his stead because why don’t you just tell the fucking truth and let him get his fucking punishment by himself?” Yifan hisses, grabbing Lu Han’s shoulders and shakes them as if it would knock some sense into the older’s head. “You’re going to die for a crime you didn’t even commit! This isn’t a joke, Lu Han, has the reality sunk into that brain of yours?”

Lu Han flutters his eyes back open and a drop of tear falls from the corner of his eye. “I cannot let him die,” he whispers. “I can’t.”

“And I cannot watch you die, Lu Han,” Yifan shakes his head, “I just can’t. Not like this.”

“Yifan, please,” Lu Han pleads, trembling. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I swear to God if only you’d tell the truth —”

“I killed Leeteuk and Han Geng,” Lu Han spits out almost hysterically, “I stabbed Leeteuk to death with a fucking katana and I shot Han Geng right in his brain with a fucking revolver and got caught red-handed, that’s the truth right there, Mr. Wu,” the words taste sour on the tip of his tongue with the tears streaming down. He quickly wipes them with the back of his hand, his cheeks hot, and throws his gaze away from his lawyer.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Yifan chokes, teeth digging into his lower lip. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

The car comes into a halt shortly after and Lu Han falls his heart drop a little. He shakes away the feeling immediately and when the door is opened for him, he’s managed to morph his expression to the one devoid of any emotions.

There are tall trees surrounding them. It’s relatively silent except for the occasional rustling sound of the wind against leaves. They’ve been taken to somewhere inside a forest, Lu Han realizes.

There’s a gloomy-looking building in front of them and there are two guards leading them inside an the building. Yifan follows shortly behind him and despite the minimum lighting, Lu Han can see a thin film of tears in his usually stern eyes. He decides to ignore this and trains his eyes forward.

There are already people inside, some he met in the court and some he hasn’t met at all. They all wear similar expression of weariness and if you look closely enough, you can find a ghost of guilt drowning slowly into those eyes.

The man he recognizes as the prosecutor comes up to him with a small smile on his lips, a few greying strands of hair stick on his temples with perspiration. Lu Han returns the smile a little bit wider, albeit not quite reaching his eyes, and bows slightly. The prosecutor taps his shoulder awkwardly and motions for Lu Han, the guards, and Yifan to follow him. They’re walking towards a door at the end of the hallway.

The prosecutor reaches the door, fingers circling around the handle, and with a slight push the door is swung open revealing a dark field surrounded by similar tall trees he’s seen when he arrived. In the dark Lu Han can make out seven figures in a horizontal line facing an empty chair a few meters away where a few strands of ropes are sitting calmly, waiting. He stops in the doorway and the breeze feels cold against his skin, sending shiver down through his spine.

The prosecutor wordlessly marches on before stopping about three steps away from the seven men, each equipped with a gun. He turns around to Lu Han and motions for the chair. Yifan stands frozen a few steps away when the two guards beside Lu Han takes him to the chair and ties him onto it quickly and effectively, no mistake at all, as if they’ve done it way too many times before (and perhaps they have, not that Lu Han wants to know how many exactly).

It feels very uncomfortable but Lu Han is in no position to ask for any form of comfort whatsoever; not that it’s important anymore. There’s no going back now. The guest he’s been waiting for shall arrive really soon. He opts to look up at the shattered stars above him and that recurring sensation of pseudo-freedom comes back to him, slowly wrapping him gently.

Not long after, the guards take a few steps away from him and Lu Han shifts his gaze to the prosecutor. It’s silent, the only sound audible was the faint sound of leaves rustling in the dark.

The next words coming out from the prosecutor’s chapped lips, though, are surprisingly soft for such a harsh sentence: “Any last words?”

Lu Han averts his gaze to Yifan. The lawyer’s expression is unreadable from where Lu Han is sitting, but Lu Han still smiles anyway. “It would be like a dream,” he starts his final plea. “If only you’d close your eyes, dreams and reality, lies and truth — they won’t matter at all.”

An utter silence greets him and in just a few moments there’s the sound of steps behind him. The next thing he knows, one of the guards is standing in front of him, a piece black cloth in hand. His black eyes boring into his were cold and merciless. He covers Lu Han’s eyes with the black cloth, tying it as tight as he did the rope around Lu Han’s head, and Lu Han can hear the he and the other guard stepping away when all Lu Han can see is a pitch black darkness.

His heart starts racing wildly as fear is finally sinking in.

“In the count of three — ”

(“Lu Han,” the voice came out trembling. “Can you come over?”)

“One — ”

(“What happened? Are you okay?”)

“Two — ”

(“He forced me to sleep with him and I — I refused, Lu Han, but then he, he hit me and threatened to kill me and oh my God I just killed people, Lu Han, oh my God I just killed Leeteuk and Han Geng — “)

“Three!”

His long-awaited guest walks up to him with a grin.

(“Stay right there. I will protect you.”)

[drabble] oublier

flightlesswish — Sat, 12 Oct 2013 12:20:45 GMT

oublier
hunhan
harry potter!au (specifically situated at the battle of hogwarts in the deathly hallows)
200~words
pg

disclaimer: i own nothing but the story, i write fiction not reality.

"Hang on Sehun Oh God please, I'll fix you ― "

The moonlight falls perfectly on the side of Lu Han's ashen face through the cracked windows and Sehun thinks that maybe it's okay to die like this; to have perfection staring at him as he draws his last breaths in.

But the tears.

Those gleaming doe-eyes.

Lu Han's arms are trembling as he cradles Sehun's head in them, blood-stained lips murmuring choked mantras that Sehun thinks are supposed to heal him.

Sehun reaches out his fingers to trace Lu Han's lips and a smile melts on his lips when the older falls silent, teary eyes reflecting his own face: he looks surprisingly calm in those dark-brown orbs. But he is fading, bit by bit, gradually losing himself inside those eyes pooling with warm tears.

And then it finally hits him.

Sehun raises his wand with his trembling hand and Lu Han stares questioningly at him, lips trembling with no words trotted out. It takes him a few more moments, a trembling play of Sehun's broken smile, that he realises Sehun is pointing his wand at him.

Before he can say anything, Sehun's lips already part to whisper his goodbye.

Obliviate.

a/n: I wrote this a while ago and I will write a longer version of this in the future, I'm just not sure when yet because my schedule is kinda packed till december which is one of the reasons why I decided to post this in the first place; I might not be able to finish any oneshot(s) / drabble(s) to post this month ;u;. I hope you liked this, comments are always appreciated <3. Previously "Untitled".

[oneshot] Wonderful Days are Coming Our Way, I Promise

flightlesswish — Fri, 27 Sep 2013 10:29:09 GMT

Title: Wonderful Days are Coming Our Way, I Promise
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing(s): Kris / Tao, Baekhyun / Chanyeol, Sehun / Lu Han
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Romance
Rating: PG
Length: 1,273 words
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.
Summary: Basically in which Kris offers Tao a future that involves (among others) two sons, a daughter, a husky, and a (very nice, sugary sweet, and overwhelmingly cute) poodle.

wonderful days are coming our way, I promise

"I want to live in a big, white house near a beautiful lake with a spacious yard. Probably with a husky for my two sons and a poodle for my daughter," Kris says as he lay in the couch, arms propped as a pillow; a silly smile that mismatches his trademark stoic face stretches across his lips.

It's one of those nights where everyone just feels like gathering in the living room, talking out things most of which is nonsense, like: Jongdae-yah, I think you'll get the best dancer award in the future (Chanyeol), We'll surely make Joonmyun-hyung broke one day (Kyungsoo), Lu Han-hyung and Sehun will have the most beautiful babies in the world (Tao), etc., etc.

Tao lay down on the carpeted floor beside a cuddling pair of Baekhyun and Chanyeol, sleepy eyes flinch at the glaring fluorescent light hung on the ceiling. He averts his gaze to the right and Baekhyun's blonde strands of hair and Chanyeol's smug smile peeking from the former's shoulder claim his vision. "I just wish I could live in peace without gay couples shamelessly displaying their excessive affections towards each other," Tao mutters solemnly and is immediately met with Chanyeol's twitched wink and Baekhyun's obnoxious giggles.

Eww.

Joonmyun raises his eyebrows at this. "How can you do that while you're gay yourself, Tao-yah?"

Heat crawls under the wushu maknae's skin to his cheeks. "I'm not!"

"Yeah, like your obvious crush on Kris-hyung isn't saying enough ― ow, what was that for? I am speaking in the name of truth and justice!" Jongin protests when his statement is interrupted by a kick on his back. He immediately makes a mental note to not be anywhere near Tao's vicinity whenever he's going to Speak in the Name of Truth and Justice.

Kris seems to ignore this and continues, "and I will teach my sons to be a true artist like his father is, and my daughter will learn the art of kicking and punching so she can protect herself from the Bad Guys."

Yixing, who's finally awake from his stupor (or seems like he is, anyway, he always looks like he's in a daze 24/7), says, "Your children would be really wonderful, Yifan," and smiles sweetly in return when Kris sends him that rare sincere smile of his.

In one corner, Sehun mutters to Lu Han, "Promise me we shall never let any of our children marry Yifan-hyung's children."

Lu Han nods wholeheartedly.

Beside them, Minseok and Jongdae congratulate the HunHan couple on their (yet-to-be-planned and non-existent) marriage which results in Lu Han has to be taken to his room due to uncontrollable stream of tears and hysterical wails of People will bless our marriage, Sehun-ah, and we'll make the most beautiful babies in the world just like Tao said!

Oh, well.

Anyways.

"So," Kyungsoo chimes in casually after the door to his and HunHan's shared room has been shut, as if nothing happened. "Does this mean you already have someone in mind, Yifan-hyung?"

Kris shifts his gaze to the owl-eyed boy. "Not really." He pouts and rises to sit, then hunches forward and clasps his hands together. He eventually looks at Tao, who's puffing his cheeks as the BaekYeol couple coo over him. "So what do you say, Tao?"

Tao looks up sadly at his dragon gege, "Huh? What do I say to what?"

"To the future proposal I'm offering you," Kris enunciates, as if he's talking to a five year-old. "The one with a big white house with a yard, near the lake, two sons and one daughter with a fierce husky and a cute poodle."

Tao simply stares.

"A very nice, sugary sweet, and overwhelmingly cute poodle," Kris repeats hopefully.

In the corner, Minseok and Jongdae are trying to stifle their giggles without much effort and watch the much-awaited proposal while Joonmyun is busy gasping my son is being proposed where is the camera I should film this historical moment ―

"But I'm allergic to dogs," Tao deadpans. "And the last time I check we're both male, so we can't technically produce children."

Minseok and Jongdae let out a chorus of ooohs and aahhhs and the last time you check? before giggling themselves away to oblivion. Meanwhile, Joonmyun has KaiSoo to film the supposed-proposal while he cries his heart out in Yixing's arms.

"Well, we can always change the husky and the poodle with pandas, if you'd like," Kris offers carefully, "our children will be running with pandas in the yard. We'll even plant bamboos to create the habitat as natural as possible for our panda pets!" His eyes are practically twinkling with fake, illusional stars now.

Tao considers this for a moment and sits up, shoving the BaekYeol couple off him not-so-gently. He gazes at Kris, all big eyes twinkling with stars. "Okay," he says finally, "Okay."

He really has a soft spot for pandas.

(Actually, he has always prefered dragons to pandas. Not because he has an obvious crush on Kris since the first time he saw the older man, okay, what are you even talking about. FYI, Kim Jongin has always been on top of his personal Not-to-be-Trusted List.

It’s simply because Tao is Fierce. Dragons are Fierce and so is Tao.

It’s a totally legit explanation.)

"Can you guys just kiss and cuddle and be cute already," Jongin says and yawns, the camera in his hand shakes slightly. Beside him Kyungsoo nods, eyes heavy with sleep. "We have an early schedule tomorrow."

Kris smiles and gets up from the couch. He walks towards Tao and kneels in front of him before leaning in to press his lips against the younger's softly. "Mine," Kris declares proudly and lifts the M maknae into his arms, carrying the panda-loving boy steadily, wedding-style.

They immediately disappear into Kris and Yixing's shared room and left the others in daze.

"What the fuck was that, really," Jongin grunts as he turns the camera off. Kyungsoo shakes his head and says grimly, "Let me sleep in your room tonight. I'm not a big fan of voyeurism," when a loud, highly inappropriate and obscene moan of SEHUN-AH, FASTER ― emits from behind his and HunHan's shared room.

Jongin nods sympathetically and lets the older man enter his and SuChen's shared room, followed by a crying mess of Joonmyun in Yixing's arms.

Minseok and Jongdae are still giggling themselves to oblivion when they retreat to XiuTao and BaekYeol's shared room.

And BaekYeol?

Well, let's just say they decide to kiss and cuddle and be cute in the living room all night long.

"I'm sorry I can't give you two sons and a daughter from my own flesh and blood, gege," Tao murmurs sadly against the steady rise and fall of Kris' chest. Kris shakes his head and soothes the back of the younger's with his gangly hand gently.

"We can adopt them," he replies sincerely because really, if he's to say the truth, Tao means so much more to him than a big white house with a yard near the lake and running sons and daughter chasing a husky and a poodle.

Yes, even if the poodle is very nice, sugary sweet, and overwhelmingly cute.

"Okay," Tao says with a smile and flutters his eyes shut, ready to set off to the dream land. "I love you, gege."

A smile grows on Kris' lips and he plants a kiss on the younger's forehead oh-so-gently. "I love you more, baobei."

Tao is going to surrender himself to slumber when he suddenly remembers something. "Gege?"

"Hmm?"

"Remind me to never, ever, let you get your hands on our children's future education."

[oneshot] 04:01

flightlesswish — Sun, 01 Sep 2013 05:35:51 GMT

Title: 04:01
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing(s): Joonmyun-centric, Joonmyun / Kyungsoo, ninja! Baekhyun /Chanyeol
Genre: High School!AU, Romance, Angst, ~~Thriller~~, ~~Horror~~
Rating: PG
Length: 7,840 words
Warning(s): (highlight to read, contain spoiler(s)) Character deaths, Mentions of murder and suicide
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

04:01

Joonmyun.

The choked low-baritone voice echoes across the dark, empty hallway. Joonmyun stops abruptly and turns his gaze over his shoulder, and waits. The voice is oddly familiar, but he cannot recall to whom it belongs. He averts his gaze back forward after sixty seconds of nothing but his steady breathing and strides faster this time, until he’s standing in front of an old and sturdy-looking black door. He can feel the air has grown significantly colder around him and the silence is almost deafening.

He takes a deep breath and reaches in, trailing his fingers across the rough surface, aiming for the rusty yet firm handle.

Please.

A staccato beats of music starts playing. His grip falters and he can feel the crumbs of rusts rough against his skin, cutting a few parts raw.

The voice is now ahead of him. It comes from behind the door, and he can’t help but to wonder why it sounds so broken and how it gives out an ethereal feeling; sorrow and agony bleeding into the air for him to inhale. He furrows his eyebrows, teeth digging into his lower lip, and a whisper blows past him from behind like a ghost of winter breeze, catching him off-guard.

Say it.

Joonmyun snaps his eyes open.

He blinks to focus his blurry sight.

He’s in his classroom, cheek pressed against the smooth surface of his desk. His neck feels stiff from the awkward angle he had been sleeping at and his heartbeats are an erratic mess. He lifts his head slowly and runs his fingers across his jet black hair, his gaze travels towards the clock hung on the wall after he has carefully scanned his surrounding; feeling rather perplexed.

A dream, huh.

It’s 5.15 p.m. His last class has supposedly ended two hours and a quarter previously as scheduled so it shouldn’t be a surprise that there’s no one in sight. He loosens the black tie around the collar of his wrinkled white uniform shirt and sighs. It’s that he can’t recall why, when, and how he fell asleep that bugs his mind. The last thing he does remember is Chanyeol asking him to join him and the other guys for lunch, which must have been a few hours ago.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he gets on his feet and slings his backpack over his shoulders. There’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach from the sense of solitude but it’s not like it’s the first time he sees his class empty, or being alone in general. After all, he’s the class president and has stayed behind to do some assignments from his homeroom teacher and such, but somehow today feels peculiarly different.

The school is quiet, almost eerily so, and it brings chills down his spine as the autumn breeze blows past him and a few dried leaves dance to their deaths beneath his feet; helplessly crushed and torn apart into smaller pieces.

The security ahjussi is sitting down on his usual plastic chair just behind the school gate, his expression wary as he gazes onto the deserted road outside. Joonmyun clutches onto the straps of his backpack tighter and strides faster to approach the older man. “Mr Park, hello,” he says politely with an apologetic smile and a slight bow. “I’m sorry, am I the last one?”

Mr Park doesn’t look at him for a good minute and instead keeps on gazing outside the gate. Joonmyun’s smile falters as Mr Park averts his gaze slowly to him, dark-brown eyes unreadable. Mr Park doesn’t say anything at all and simply stares, eyebrows slightly furrowed as if he’s in the process of solving a particularly difficult riddle.

“Is something wrong?” Joonmyun bites his lower lip, apprehension starting to sink in.

A sigh escapes the older’s chapped lips. A single shake of head. “Just. Go,” he says wearily and Joonmyun thinks it somehow almost sounds like a plea. “Please.”

A worn-out repetition.

Joonmyun flashes a tentative smile. Looks like it’s been a long day. “See you tomorrow, then, Mr Park.”

After another bow and a sadness-filled smile in return, Joonmyun shuffles out of the school and to the bus stop nearby. His bus comes in another ten minutes and he boards quietly, choosing to sit in the unoccupied last row. There are six more passengers aside of him, each wandering off in their own world.

The sky is now a canvas of darkness with a yellowish full moon hanging firmly in between the murky clouds. Joonmyun sinks back into his seat and takes out his iPod, plugging his ears with obnoxious upbeat songs to keep himself awake.

He gets off forty-five minutes later at the stop just a few blocks away from his house in Apgujeong. A girl in what he recognizes as the neighboring school uniform gets off with him, her straight black hair falls graciously bosom-length. She’s a just a few centimeters shorter than him and probably has a nice smile too, if only she didn’t wear a frown on her rather pale face as she waits for whoever on the end of the line to pick up her call.

He waits for the traffic light to turn red beside her, hands slipped casually into his grey uniform pants pockets and foot tapping against the pavement in an incoherent rhythm. The sound of cars passing by muffles the girl’s timid hello.

Joonmyun steals a glance at the girl when the countdown on the traffic light shows a glaring 10. The girl is speaking in hushed whispers.

“Have you heard?” He hears the girl say, “Yes. I’m at the bus stop right now, can you pick me up? Please? I have no friends with me.”

A pause. Joonmyun drops his gaze to the ground and waits. Six.

“He lived in the neighborhood, you know?” She says almost exasperatedly. Two.

A sigh. “No, of course I am not afraid of — “

The bright green turns into a glaring and Joonmyun steps forward to cross, the rest of the girl’s conversation quickly swallowed by the symphony of Apgujeong’s evening traffic life.

There’s no one home when Joonmyun enters the apartment. He switches the lights on, takes off his shoes at the front and drops his backpack and blazer uniform on the couch, fingers snaking up to untie his necktie off his collar.

There’s a newspaper lying on the dining table and it’s dated 16 September 2013, which was three days previously, South Korea-Japan Joint Military Training glaring as the headline in bold letters. Frowning, he walks to the fridge and finds no post-its explaining where his parents and brother are. The most recent one says Joonma, don’t forget to eat! from one of his mom’s pink ones and is dated 17/09/13. He fishes his cellphone out of his backpack to check for any missed calls and messages but to his dismay, it’s off out of battery.

Perhaps they just forgot to write, he muses as he gets a glass of water. It’s not like it’s the first time. His parents are busy and often have to go on business trips away for a few days and sometimes weeks and he does remember his father saying something about doing research in Busan with his mom tagging along. Meanwhile his brother, well, he’s an adult now and every now and then he sleeps over at one of his friends’.

He has kimchi ramyeon as dinner before retreating to the bed just a little before midnight, tucking himself into the warmth of blanket as the sound of muffled rain infiltrates his hearing.

He closes his eyes after a few knocks of raindrops against the window glass and lets himself fall into the embrace of darkness.

There are two policemen at the school gate when Joonmyun arrives the next morning. They are talking to Mr Park who simply looks grim. They look serious and the conversation is carried on with low voices so no one else can hear.

Most of the students also talk in hushed whispers, while the rest don’t talk at all. They all wear similar expressions of anxiety and fear. In the classroom, Joonmyun slings his backpack on the chair and sits, eyes observing his classmates entering with what he recognizes as reluctance.

Chanyeol and Baekhyun enter the class together five minutes sharp before the bell rings and walk to their respective seats immediately without so much fooling around that they usually do. They also have the same expression as the rest of the school and Joonmyun frowns, because he, now, must be missing something because Chanyeol and Baekhyun always have their silly smiles and mischief eyes on.

Mr Jung enters not long after the bell rings, eyes downcast and expression weary like there’s a mountain of invisible burden resting on his shoulders. He settles his briefcase on his desk in front and sits, resting his chin on his clasped hands. A smile grows on his lips as he lifts his gaze onto the students. Joonmyun notices that the teacher’s smile falters a bit when his gaze meets with an unocuppied desk on the second row. Joonmyun follows his gaze and raises his eyebrows.

Looks like Do Kyungsoo, the quiet class’ secretary, is absent today.

Mr Jung meets Joonmyun’s eyes next and his smile is filled with so much sadness that makes him wonder what could possibly happen to the older man that creates that kind of smile.

The class begins soon after without further ado and today it’s mostly filled with silence on students’ part. It’s also the same with the other classes for the rest of the day. It almost feels like a monologue, and the teachers don’t seem to mind like they usually do; refraining from picking out students who seem like not paying attention randomly to answer questions on the current topic. Even Chanyeol and Baekhyun look like they’re really paying attention to the lessons for once. It’s not bad, Joonmyun thinks, but it’s... Weird. Maybe because it’s a first.

During the recess, Joonmyun approaches Chanyeol who stays on his chair, long fingers massaging his temples. The others are out for lunch and the only ones in the class are the both of them and Baekhyun, who’s planting his face flat on his desk.

“Yo Chanyeol,” Joonmyun says with a little smile, indulges himself to sit on Kyungsoo’s empty chair in front of Chanyeol’s desk. “What’s happening? Why is everyone acting gloomy?”

Chanyeol closes his eyes for a brief moment before snapping them back open, a slight frown on his face. “Uh,” he says as he averts his gaze to Baekhyun, who’s walking towards them with an unreadable expression. “Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun stands beside Chanyeol, arms crossed against his chest in contemplation. “Joonmyun,” he says in a low tone after a few strings of thoughts, eyes surprisingly soft. “How are you today?”

Joonmyun raises an eyebrow. Baekhyun usually isn’t the one with pretenses. “I’m fine thank you?”

To his surprise, Baekhyun smiles, although it’s less bright than the ones he used to play on his lips. “Good,” he says with a chuckle, “Good.”

There’s an awkward pause. Joonmyun clears his throat. “So where’s Kyungsoo? Why is he absent? It’s a first, right? He’s never absent before,”

Chanyeol and Baekhyun are visibly tensed at the mention of Kyungsoo’s name. Joonmyun stares at them both questioningly. “What?”

“He’s...” Baekhyun pauses and it looks like he’s giving his answer a better thought. He decides to gaze at Chanyeol and shakes his head. “Why don’t we have lunch? I’m starving. You’re coming too?” He says with a tentative smile to Joonmyun.

In his peripheral vision, Joonmyun sees Chanyeol heaving a sigh and shaking his head. “No. You know what, I’ll just stay and take a nap. My head’s aching. Wake me up when the bell rings,” he mumbles and props his lanky arms on the desk to use them as a pillow, pressing his cheek against them and closes his eyes, hence ending the conversation.

Baekhyun flashes Joonmyun an apologetic smile after kicking Chanyeol’s too long legs under the desk. Chanyeol lets out a whimper but doesn’t move. Joonmyun shrugs it off and Baekhyun heads to the cafeteria by himself, leaving him and Chanyeol alone in the quiet classroom.

Joonmyun shifts on the chair to turn to the front and leans back. The seat feels rather cold and he wonders whether it’s due to the weather or it’s always been this cold on this part of the class, since he’s always been sitting beside the window since the first year.

The quietness that follows feels uncomfortable against his skin and he wants to smack Chanyeol awake so the taller can crack jokes or being Chanyeol in general, but he stays still. Chanyeol’s soft snores play in rhythm with his own heartbeats and before he knows it, the bell rings.

They don’t talk for the rest of the day.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol scurried out of the class when the bell rings without waiting for Joonmyun. There’s nothing to be taken care of today, since Mr Jung, his homeroom teacher didn’t give him any class-related matters to work on, so he decides to go straight home. On his way to the entrance gate, he notices that the policemen he saw this morning are already gone and there’s only Mr Park who looks like he’s on the verge of dozing off in his plastic chair.

Joonmyun heads over to the bus stop wordlessly and boards on, taking a seat behind two chatting girls in the bus home. This time, Joonmyun doesn’t take out his iPod to block out the world and simply sits still, midlessly listening to the girls’ chatter. It is, apparently, of a murder.

“Yeah, they said they’ve already got the suspect but it’s still scary, you know?” The girl with a bob hair says. Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows and unconsciously leans forward, all ears. “I wonder how scared the students must be.”

Joonmyun can almost see the girl with a long hair shrugs. “Seoul Arts is a reputable high school after all. Who knows there’d be a murder happening right under their noses? God, I remember studying hard to get in there but now I’m just thankful I didn’t.”

Joonmyun’s eyes widen in surprise. A murder? In his own school?

What.

“I just hope they’d catch the killer soon,” the bob girl murmurs, “I don’t want to go to school with fear of being killed.”

The bus comes to a halt after twenty minutes and the girls rush out immediately, leaving Joonmyun with a sleeping old man in the front row on board.

Joonmyun sinks back to his seat, taken aback by the conversation he’s just heard. A murder...?

A frown makes its way to his face as he tries to remember about that particular matter. He doesn’t remember any murders commited at his school. If there’s a murder recently, he should have known, right? Come on, Joonmyun, think.

By the time the bus halts at his stop, he still can’t come up with a better explanation. He walks home with a whirlwind of thoughts but nothing satisfies him.

There’s no one home when he enters the apartment and it’s perfectly the same as it was when he left for school this morning. He takes off his shoes, drops his backpack on the couch, and frowns. There’s too many things he can’t comprehend right now, and it feels quite unnerving because how come he seems to be missing out so much?

He takes his blazer uniform off and opts to turn on the TV instead of going for shower first like he always has. A music show is on and the popular rookie chinese-korean boyband is performing a song with what he thinks a lot of eureureong eureureong or something, he’s not really sure. He gives up after fifteen minutes of changing channels and finding nothing. He decides to take a long, hot shower, letting the water washes out his thoughts and evaporates his worries for the time being.

It’s a little before ten that he realizes that there’s a newspaper inside the small trashbin on the corner of his bedroom. Frowning, he takes it out gingerly and finds that the headline, to his confusion, is torn off. It’s not torn off neatly, so he guesses someone must have ripped it off by bare hands hastily. He carefully flips to the next page to find it’s a 18 September 2013 newspaper. A few more parts of the newspaper are also similarly torn off.

After some thoughts, he decides to give Baekhyun a call and grabs his cellphone, but it won’t turn on despite he has charged the battery full. Maybe it’s broken; he’s been using this one for years anyway. He makes his way back to the living room and dials Baekhyun’s number with the house phone.

“Baekhyun, hi,” he immediately says after an exhausted yeoboseyo chimes in from the other end. “I know it’s random and all but I think I kinda missed out on some things? I heard there’s a freaking murder at our school recently and I can’t seem to remember any of it, and there’s a newspaper with its headline and other parts torn off in my bedroom and I don’t even know why,” Joonmyun pauses and releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I can’t come up with any plausible explanation and it’s kinda frustrating. Please kindly explain to me what the hell is going on.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Baekhyun answers. “Joonmyun?”

Joonmyun sighs. “Yes, Baekhyun.”

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says so quietly that Joonmyun thinks he’s misheard it. “I’m really sorry. About Kyungsoo. About everything. I should have seen this coming.”

A set of muffled sobs. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything. God, I’m so sorry,”

“Kyungsoo?” Joonmyun echoes numbly.

Do Kyungsoo...?

The muffled sobs turn into soft and weak chuckles after a few heartbeats. “Why don’t you rest, Joonmyun? It’s already late, don’t you think?”

Joonmyun inhales deeply and it comes out shaky. “Yeah. See you, Baek.”

He doesn’t wait for Baekhyun’s reply and ends the call, legs suddenly weak. He sinks to the floor, brings his knees against his chest and closes his eyes. Amidst the darkness of his mind, he can see the girls in the bus, Mr Jung’s sad smile, torn newspaper and the policemen he saw this morning.

And the empty desk.

How could he not know?

The next time he opens his eyes, Kim Joonmyun is certain of three things.

First, a murder happened recently at his school.

Second, Do Kyungsoo, the quiet class’ secretary, is the victim.

Third, he’s going to find out who did it and why.

The next morning, Joonmyun wakes up to what he thinks smell a lot like fresh toasts, sunny side-ups, and warm milk. He rises from the bed and yawns, hand makes its way to rub his bleary eyes. He blinks and searches for the time: it’s seven in what he assumes a cheerful Saturday morning, if the sunlight peeking through the curtain is any indication.

He stretches his arms and walks out, heading straight to the source of delicious smell. It’s not surprising that it comes from the kitchen, but he is surprised that his parents are there; his mother laying out the food on the dining table and his father sits on one of the chairs, reading a book.

“You’re back,” Joonmyun says casually with a smile and takes a seat across his father. “How’s the trip?”

His mother stops plating the breakfast and lifts her gaze. His father stops reading promptly, lifting his gaze to his youngest son. There’s a pair of dark weight of sleepless nights under his eyes. He says nothing and puts the book on the table, and if Joonmyun didn’t know better, he’d think his father was shaking; but of course he isn’t. His father didn’t even flinch when his brother decided that that particular Saturday night should be dedicated to a Saw marathon.

“Joonmyun,” his father begins after a deep breath, “You — “

“It was great,” his mother cuts him off, a smile tugs on the corners of her unpolished lips, eyes on her husband’s briefly before averting her gaze to Joonmyun. Those dark-brown orbs are as warm as Joonmyun remembers. “It was really great, Joonmyun.”

Joonmyun beams at his mom and grabs a toast, shoving it into his mouth blissfully. Just like expected, foods made by his mom are the best. He continues munching on the toast and takes a sunny side-up, then finishes them off with a glass of warm milk. He clasps his hands and says jal meogeosseumnida cheerfully. An awkward silence follows and Joonmyun raises his eyebrows, eyeing his seemingly dazed parents in question.

Joonmyun personally thinks family has been a happy one. Although there are times when his parents can’t be home and be there for him 24/7, but he knows that they love each other so much. They’re one of those families that appreciate certainty and not the unexpected; everything has to be planned and measured out so preparation for impact can be carried out smoothly to keep the damage to the minimum.

Maybe that’s why when his mother suddenly bursts out to tears, he’s left dumbfounded and dazed, unable to react properly and just sits there, unmoving.

His mother refuses to say anything on why she’s crying and stays by his side for the rest of the day, preventing him to go out and sleeps beside him at night, singing lullabies from his childhood for him to sleep. When he closes his eyes and eventually drifts off to sleep, he thinks he hasn’t been feeling this safe since a long, long time.

Joonmyun stays home with his family for Sunday and everything is alright and relaxing, his mother showering her affections to him excessively since yesterday’s breakfast and his father is, well, he’s just being himself and drown himself in printed words Joonmyun never has the chance to read. With the amount of words he’s devoured throughout the years, it’s can be a blessing or a curse sometimes how his father never wastes his time to speak them as much as he’s read.

Joonmyun goes to school on Monday morning as usual, although this time with some struggle because his mother says he should stay at home instead. After a few attempts of conviction that, among many others, yes, he will be extra careful and no, he will not hang out after school and go straight back home. He wonders what could possibly make his mother so worried and the murder flashes in his mind.

Ah.

Perhaps that’s why his mother has been so emotional these days. Perhaps she’s just glad that the murder didn’t happen to him. He shudders at the horrifying thought.

Poor Kyungsoo.

He was a good friend.

School proceeds as usual. Students and teachers seem to be more cheerful than they had been last week, and Joonmyun can’t help but feel grateful for the change. There are smiles and even occasional laughter, albeit not as lively as they were before, coming out from the class’ pranksters Baekhyun and Chanyeol. Joonmyun hides a smile behind his maths textbook. It feels nice to see everything is going back to normal again.

He hasn’t been able to bring up the murder into a discussion with either of them and, in fact, he’s almost forgotten about it since the class starts, mind fully occupied with algebras and integrals. He takes a glace at the seat near the door. Kyungsoo’s seat remains empty.

The bell declaring recess rings and Joonmyun plants cheek against the desk, eyes observing the cotton-like clouds swimming in the blue sky outside the window. He blinks his eyes a few times as sleep suddenly looms in his eyes out of nowhere. He glances lazily at his wristwatch and 04.00 p.m. stares at him in return. Frowning, he lifts his head and searches for the time hung on the wall. It’s still 01.00 p.m. He lets a sigh escape his lips and folds his arms on the desk, using them as a pillow. First my cellphone and now my wristwatch, great, he thinks wryly and closes his eyes, soon drifting off to sleep amidst his classmates’ chatters in a mock lullaby. A few minutes of shut-eye won’t hurt, right?

The next time he opens his eyes, he’s standing on the same dark hallway in his dream the week previously. This time, it isn’t as dark and he can make out some rustling sound of what he assumes leaves, nearby. He steps forward and with each step, he gets a feeling that this place is both familiar and foreign at the same time, which is kind of perplexing. Sharpening his senses, he keeps walking onwards in silence until there’s a sound of a door creaking open.

Come on in.

Joonmyun stops abruptly and turns around.

There’s nothing there.

He can almost hear a smile when after six more steps forward, but this time he doesn’t stop and strides.

I’ve been waiting for you.

And there’s that door again. That tall, sturdy-looking black door, standing mightily in front of him and this time it’s slightly ajar. He can’t see what’s exactly inside from where he’s standing and he hesitates for a moment, teeth digging into his lower lip.

Welcome.

Joonmyun takes two steps forward and sets his fingers onto the handle. It’s just as rough as he remembers. When he carefully pushes the door open, it makes a loud creaking sound as if it hasn’t been opened for a long time.

There’s a rather strong copper smell coming out from inside that makes Joonmyun wrinkles his nose in reflex. His gaze is dropped on the floor with dusts here and there, and somewhere in between ash brown against white tiles begins a shy drop of crimson. The glaring color gets louder and louder until it crashes against a pair of black oxford shoes.

There’s an immediate unsettling feeling as he carefully lifts his gaze, trailing the bold color that gets darker and darker against all too familiar grey fabric of the attire that matches his own. His eyes land on a pair of bloody hands for a brief moment and this is where dread starts to sink in, as if someone with a terrible humor sense has just injected a terrifying amount of dread into his system just to drive him insane. A bit higher and there’s red and red everywhere, spreading painfully slowly on the white shirt peeking through a maroon-tainted grey blazer, a few buttons he knows supposed to be there missing, exposing just as tainted pale skin.

There are fresh cuts along the neck and it stops just below the jawline. Joonmyun gulps down his fear as his eyes meet with heart-shaped lips, corners twisted slightly to form a what he thinks a smile and then the eyes.

The big, round, owl-like eyes.

“Did you find the room just fine?” Do Kyungsoo asks softly in that low-baritone voice of his.

Joonmyun freezes on the spot, eyes widen in surprise. Kyungsoo’s face is tainted with red, just like his other parts, and it’s almost horrifying how contrast the sincerity of his smile and voice with violent red all over him. Joonmyun parts his lips to say something but there’s nothing coming out; words die in his throat.

“Joonmyun,” Kyungsoo bites his lower lip and the red smeared on a corner of his lips trails down slightly. He takes a step forward. “I — “

Run.

Joonmyun jerks back onto his chair violently.

He gasps for air, panting heavily, white ceiling blurred in his vision. It takes him a few more seconds to realize that he’s sweating profusely, white uniform shirt sticks onto his skin. He blinks as his head starts throbbing and only then does he realize that he’s been crying. He straightens up, wiping the tears out of his eyes, soft sobs escaping his lips.

After calming himself down, he sweeps his gaze around the classroom. It’s empty. His gaze wanders to the clock and the hands show five p.m. sharp. He unconsciously averts his gaze to his wristwatch. It’s still stuck at 04.00 p.m.

There’s no Mr Park in sight when Joonmyun steps out of the class. The school is relatively empty and after a few more steps, he can hear sobs coming from the entrance gate.

Joonmyun squints his eyes and sees a little girl wearing a pretty red dress falls on her knees as she sobs. Joonmyun immediately rushes to her and says, “Are you okay?”

The girl looks up to him, her big eyes brimming with tears. “It hurts,” she says with trembling lips, little index finger pointing at her scraped knees. Joonmyun offers her a smile and starts fishing out for band aids inside his backpack but he finds none. He must have forgotten to bring any since that last one he gave to Chanyeol after the younger injured himself eating tteokbeokki. Joonmyun didn’t even know one can injure himself eating tteokbeokki but then again, Chanyeol has taught him a lot of things he didn’t know exist (or possible, on that matter).

Joonmyun tilts his head slightly to the side. “Where’s your mother?”

The girl pouts. “Mama says Soohyun should be a good girl and wait for her at the park over there,” she points at a park nearby, “and she went to an auntie’s house nearby that Soohyun doesn’t know. Soohyun is a good girl, so Soohyun waited but there’s a cute cat walking towards this school and it is so cute Soohyun wants to play with it but Soohyun fell. Soohyun is a bad girl,” she finishes with another sob.

Joonmyun glances inside the school and weighs the option of bringing the girl, Soohyun, to the school’s infirmary. He decides it would be the best option and it wouldn’t take much time anyway. “It’s okay now,” he smiles, “Let Joonmyun-oppa fix you inside, okay, Soohyun-ah? You believe in oppa, right?”

Soohyun gives him a shy nod and lets him piggyback her, his backpack now against his chest. He takes her to the infirmary at the end of the school hallway. There’s no one there, as expected. The school physician, Zhang Yixing, has most probably gone home. He takes the first aid kit and starts working on Soohyun’s knees carefully. She has stopped crying, thank goodness, and now watching alternatively between him and her knees intently.

“There there, all done,” Joonmyun smiles proudly at his work after a few minutes and lifts his gaze to see a beaming Soohyun. “Wait here for a sec, will you? Oppa has to wash his hand,” he adds and after she nods in approval, he heads to the washroom nearby. He washes his hand thoroughly and splashes some water on his face before heading back to the infirmary, where he finds something rather unusual.

There’s a door that leads to somewhere the students don’t really know near the infirmary. Some say it leads to an old storage room and some say it’s used to be a prison but Joonmyun believes it’s terribly fake. Nevertheless, no one goes there.

Joonmyun notices that there’s a police line sealing the door. He stops in front of it and traces the bright yellow line with his fingertips, a crease on his forehead. Is this...?

“Oppa?”

Joonmyun jumps in surprise and sees Soohyun pouting in the infirmary doorway. He offers her an apologetic smile, pushing the rest of his thought to the back of his mind and takes Soohyun back to the entrance gate, hand in hand. Soohyun is talking about her pet bunny (“Her name is Honey!” She informs him cheerfully) animatedly and it seems as if she’s not the same girl who cried in front of the school gate just a few minutes previously, and then —

“Joonmyun?”

Joonmyun stops promptly and averts his attention from the girl to the source of voice.

A boy in a casual blue tee and a pair of dark jeans is standing not far from them, expression unreadable as he steps forward.

Beside Joonmyun, Soohyun stops talking and follows his gaze. “Oppa?” She asks questioningly to Joonmyun, tugging at his wrist. “Is this oppa friend of yours?”

The boy flashes a smile and crouches down in front of Soohyun. “Yes. Oppa’s Joonmyun oppa’s friend.” The boy says warmly.

Joonmyun freezes.

“Soohyun? Soohyun, where are you?”

The three of them avert their gazes to the entrance gate to find a woman in cream-colored cardigan and matching skirt looking worried, eyes busy sweeping the surrounding.

Soohyun immediately runs at the sight of her mother, albeit wobbly due to her scraped knees and throws herself into her mother’s arms.

“Soohyun, what happened?” Her mothers asks worriedly, looking at her daughter from head to toe and stops at her healing knees. “Who’s...?”

Soohyun looks up to his mother. ”Soohyun injured her knees and Joonmyun-oppa fixed Soohyun’s knees and Soohyun’s alright now,” she says cheerfully, shifting her gaze to Joonmyun, all bright. Her mother gives them a grateful smile and a small bow. “Thank you so much, I sincerely apologise for the hassle.”

Joonmyun and the boy bow their heads in unison, saying that it’s not a problem at all. “Well, I guess we should get going now,” the mother says, holding Soohyun’s hand in hers gently. “Don’t you have something to tell to oppa, Soohyun?”

“Thank you, oppa!” Soohyun beams at Joonmyun who offers her a nod and a tentative smile. They wave as they retreat towards the bus stop and board the bus.

Inside, Soohyun sits beside her mother on the last row, fingers start toying with her ponytail.

“Thank God you’re okay. That’s very kind of him,” her mother sighs, “be careful next time, Soohyun. Not everyone is like that kind oppa, and listen when I tell you to wait, okay?”

Soohyun nods. “Soohyun’s sorry, mama,” she apologizes sincerely and falls quiet. She presses her palms on the window glass and sees the reddish sky in awe, mouth slightly ajar. The sky looks like a burning canvas and she thinks it looks so beautiful and sad at the same time.

The bus stops just a few blocks down her house and she hops off the bus carefully while holding her mother’s hand, afraid of falling on her knees again. They walk home slowly with their shadows following them from behind dutifully, like scorched pool of lights dancing against the pavement. It is only then that she remembers something that she’s found amusing and perplexing at the same time. She looks up to her mother, dark-brown eyes widening in question.

“Mama, why does that oppa have no shadow?”

Joonmyun stands still in front of the entrance gate even after Soohyun and her mother are gone, gaze dropped to the ground after they’re out of sight. The boy also stands still close beside him, casually slipping his hands into his jeans pockets. “So you’re here,” he says softly. Joonmyun braves himself to look up and gazes at the boy.

Do Kyungsoo gives him a heart-shaped smile, something Joonmyun can’t quite dechiper flickering in his dark-brown eyes. Joonmyun blinks. There are millions of questions whirling in his mind right now and before he can’t stop himself he blurts out, “Why are you here?”

Kyungsoo looks pensive briefly before he answers with a shrug. “Because.” He pauses and adds, “How are you, Joonmyun? It’s been awhile, I suppose.”

A week, yes, Joonmyun replies sarcastically in his head. And, oh, you’re also supposed to be dead, actually.

There must be a logical explanation to all of this, what ever this is. “Are you...” He says instead and hesitates. “Are you a ghost? Am I still dreaming?”

Kyungsoo looks stunned for a moment before his eyebrows lift. “What?”

Joonmyun feels like an idiot. Or maybe he is, he’s not really sure. In fact, he’s not sure of anything right now. “You know,” he stratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “there’s a murder happened quite recently in our school? And,” he pauses. “You’re supposed to be... Dead. Are you?”

Silence falls upon them and Joonmyun suddenly feels so cold. He unconsciously rubs his palms together to get some warmth. His palms are clammy with cold sweat. “Kyungsoo, I —“

“Do you have time tomorrow?” Kyungsoo cuts in, gaze drops to the ground. A rather cool autumn wind blows, making the strands of Kyungsoo’s black hair flutter; his bangs fall to shade his eyes from Joonmyun’s curious stare.

“What?” Joonmyun asks, baffled.

Kyungsoo eventually lifts his face, a small chuckle escapes his lips. “Tomorrow. Will you see me? After school.”

Joonmyun considers the offer. This may be his best chance to know the truth. “Where?”

Kyungsoo smiles. “Do you know that door near the infirmary ?”

Joonmyun stays behind when the final bell rings the next day. He waits for the others to empty the class before shoving the textbooks laying on the desk into his backpack. He gets on his feet after a few more minutes and slings the backpack over his shoulders nervously, then quietly steps out of the class.

There are only a few students left now, all heading towards the entrance gate. Joonmyun stops and waits until they’re out of sight and starts heading to the hallway leading to the infirmary.

A strange feeling of déjà vu embraces him as he walks towards the infirmary; an alien sensation that brings an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He stops abruptly in front one of the classes, the door just slightly ajar. There are sounds that bring heat to his cheeks and he swears he feels something inside him burns. He quietly takes a peek inside and sees two familiar figures pressed against each other against the wall, one too tall and one just a little taller than Joonmyun himself, white uniform shirts are missing a few buttons to reveal highly inappropriate parts of skin. Joonmyun quietly yet quickly pulls away from the door when Baekhyun makes inappropriate noises against Chanyeol and strides away from the scene.

A few steps and some attempts of unseeing what he’s just witnessed later, he’s standing in front of the door. The yellow line is gone and he hesitates for a bit before opening the door slightly. It opens with a creaking sound and he winces; it sounds so loud amidst the overall quietness around him. He bites his lower lip and takes a peek inside.

Behind the door is another hallway. It’s rather dark so he leaves the door open and walks forward. He can hear a faint sound of piano playing ahead and he decelerates his pace, sharping his senses. The sound only gets louder and louder until he finally arrives in front of the tall, sturdy-looking black door he’s seen in his recent dreams. It’s ajar, just exactly as the last time he saw it was in his crimson dream.

He turns around and realizes that this is the exact same place as it was in his dreams.

In between the questions spiraling in his mind, the piano stops.

“Joonmyun?” Comes that low-baritone voice from inside.

Joonmyun blinks.

Kyungsoo comes from behind the door and smiles at the sight of him.“Come on in,” he says softly and the door opened wider with a loud creak . “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Kyungsoo steps back, still in the same tee and pair of dark jeans as he has seen yesterday. His black hair is getting too long as his bangs fall just above his tired eyes. There are sleep lingering under those dark-brown orbs and Joonmyun somehow feels something akin to pity for the boy he’s known from the first day school two years and a half ago.

Joonmyun steps in hesitantly, eyes instinctively scanning the room. There are a few music instruments in the room: a piano, a cello, some violins and guitars, and some more. They’re all layered with dusts and are dull in colors with faint hint of maroon here and there. There’s also fading white lines (looks like it’s made from chalks, he notes mentally) on the wall near his back and a few immediate parts of the floor that’s shaping out something he doesn’t quite understand. He peels his gaze off the wall after a few moments and gazes at Kyungsoo; hesitant of what to say.

“Welcome,” Kyungsoo says cheerfully as he leans against the piano, a small bottle in his hand. He sweeps his gaze around the room. “This used to be a music room before they started using the one we use now.”

“How did you find this room? I mean, no one ever goes past the door leading to the hallway here because they scared. No one even knows that there is a hallway, ” Joonmyun pauses, furrowing his eyebrows. “Well, most of us.”

A smirk growing from the corners of Kyungsoo’s lips sends chills down Joonmyun’s spine. “I’m not most people. I can’t be, can I?” He sets the bottle on top of the ivory keys, a small bottle of water is sitting calmly beside it.

Then comes a step forward.

Joonmyun instinctively takes one step back. “What do you mean?”

A plea.

A brutal realization.

Joonmyun can almost see the red smearing all over Kyungsoo.

The shoes. The white uniform shirt. The lips.

The bloody hands. “Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo takes a few more steps and he’s so close. “It would’ve been easier if you said yes.” A sad smile. “Wouldn’t it?” Another step. “I begged you. But you didn’t listen. I knew it would end like that.” He pauses. “But I honestly didn’t expect this.”

Joonmyun’s lips remain shut. He takes another step back and his back hit the wall, clammy palms tainted with chalky crumbs drawn on the bruised surface.

Kyungsoo gently takes Joonmyun into his embrace, resting his chin on Joonmyun’s shoulder, heart beating steadily against Joonmyun’s chest. “Do you remember?” He whispers, almost longingly. “A week ago, we’re in this exact same position. Same place. Same time. But now a different you and me, no?”
A chuckle.

Joonmyun shakes his head slowly, a whisper escapes his lips. “I don’t understand.”

Liar.

“You’re smart, Joonmyun.” Kyungsoo murmurs. “You can’t possibly not understand.” He buries his face into the crook of Joonmyun’s pale neck. “We were here,” he whispers against Joonmyun’s bare skin, sending shivers through the latter’s spine.

“I told you I loved you. But you didn’t understand. You didn’t understand how it hurts to surpress this feeling for years, too see you every single day and not having you.” A sigh. “It’s killing me.”

“And I kissed you. Like this,” Kyungsoo leans in and presses his lips against Joonmyun’s tenderly. Joonmyun stays still, paralyzes by scattered emotions and thoughts, so he flutters his eyes shut. Kyungsoo pulls back soon after, a smile rises from the corners of his lips. “But you pushed me away and slapped me. And then you said you were sorry. Were you?”

Kyungsoo takes four steps backwards and runs his fingers across his unkempt black hair. “What am I doing?” He chuckles, “Why am I talking to a ghost?”

Joonmyun opens his eyes slowly. When he lifts his face, a smile is still playing on Kyungsoo’s lips. “You came for me, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about,” the words comes out trembling and Joonmyun can hear the fear in his own voice; can taste the bitter taste the words left on the tip of his tongue.

Kyungsoo says nothing in response and instead walks towards the piano, taking the small bottle he’s brought with him back in his hand. “I’m sorry I’m such a coward and not brave enough to face death like you did,” he says and uncaps the bottle, taking one pill out; hand surprisingly steady. “I’m really sorry, Joonmyun.”

“What are you talking about,” it comes out in hysteria now. His hands are shaking and his vision blurred, but there’s no tears.

Everything just suddenly starts to fade away.

“You know what, Joonmyun,” Kyungsoo says suddenly, as if he’s just remembered something important he has to say. “Your heart is really beautiful. It’s really warm and tender, just like I imagined it would be. It’s an honor to be the one that took and owned your beautiful heart, even if just for a little while.”

A genuine smile.

Kyungsoo raises the water bottle in lieu of a toast and brings death into his mouth calmly then gulps it down with the water. He sinks to the floor not long after, crippled breath and red-smeared lips as the glaring color choked out of his mouth. Joonmyun rushes forward in reflex and kneels down, immediately nurses the younger’s head in his arms. The surrealness of everything strangely makes Joonmyun think about eternity.

A smile in the color of red rose grows from the corners of his lips, of silent I love you I love you I love you in hue, and life-stained words roll out of his mouth. A choked, almond-scented, bloody mess. “Lean… Closer,” he gasps, “I… Something… Ask…”

Joonmyun leans in and Kyungsoo softly whispers the truth; his final plea.

Kyungsoo sinks softly to the ground as Joonmyun starts to fade; translucent feet, chest, arms are washed away by warm pool of lights and he’s supposed to be freaking out right now but, really, all he feels right now is a sense of flawless tranquility that he thinks he has never felt before.

As Kyungsoo takes his last trembling breath, Joonmyun flutters his eyes shut.

In another life, would you love me?

In an empty classroom, a mere length of time away, the clock strikes four.

—- epilogue —-

KOREA DAILY

WEDNESDAY, 18 SEPTEMBER 2013

HIGH SCHOOL MURDER SHOCKS NATION

On Tuesday afternoon (17/09), A (19) was found dead in an unused music room of SA High School, Seoul. A was found brutally murdered with his heart missing, corpse full with bruises and fatal wounds caused by sharp objects.

It is suspected that A was murdered by fellow classmate B (18) who immediately went missing after the crime took place. The suspicion is also supported with fingerprint evidences and testimonies given by fellow classmates and teachers.

The police is currently on the lookout for B.

KOREA DAILY

THURSDAY, 26 SEPTEMBER 2013

HIGH SCHOOL MURDER FOUND DEAD

B (18), the prime suspect of the murder of A (19) at SA High School (17/09), Seoul, was found dead yesterday morning (25/09) at the same place as the murder took place last week. The forensics team estimated B died on Tuesday (24/09) afternoon. A bottle of cyanide pills and a half-filled water bottle were found near his corpse.

The incident has caused panics among the students and classes were immediately dismissed for the day. Parents are horrified of the second death happened in the school two weeks in a row and demand guarantee for their children’s safety.

There is still no official statement from the school nor the police.

[oneshot] and the world is waiting for us // 世界が俺たちを待っている

flightlesswish — Wed, 14 Aug 2013 09:30:47 GMT

Title: and the world is waiting for us // 世界が俺たちを待っている
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing: Jongin / Sehun, Sehun / Lu Han
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG
Word count: 2,185 words
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

AND THE WORLD IS WAITING FOR US
世界が俺たちを待っている

Actually, it’s like this

What use is it to hold onto something that is scattering?

Nell – The Day Before

When he first kissed Sehun in the back of an empty classroom after school, Jongin didn’t know what he was expecting. In fact, he’s not even sure why he did it. It just oddly felt like the right thing to do.

Did he regret it? Not really.

Sehun was in the eleventh grade and Jongin twelfth. It was the fifth year since they first met at that small, cloudless practice room in one corner of the SM building and perhaps it was in between their millionth hey and see you later.

The sky was starting to burn into a few shades of red when Jongin jogged to Sehun’s class, his yellow uniform wrinkled from the long day and his unkempt bangs stuck onto his forehead with perspiration. His backpack was slung over his shoulder, heavy with bound sets of words and clumsily folded starched dreams.

When he arrived, Sehun was sitting on his desk, half-lidded eyes gazing mindlessly to the world outside the dusty window glass, long legs dangling slightly in the air and palms of his hands pressed comfortably against the smooth surface of the desk. Warm lights fell onto his immobile figure in all the right places that made him look like he was glowing.

Hey, Jongin began like he always had, leaning his shoulder casually against the doorway. A smirk grew on his lips as Sehun gave him his full attention.

Sehun gave him a half, lazy smile in return. You’re late.

Jongin shrugged and came over. You waited anyway.

Joonmyun-hyung will be mad, Sehun chuckled, but I don’t feel like going to practice today. He hopped off the desk and went for his own backpack sitting on the chair. He took out a pink familiar box with styled silver Wendy’s Cupcakes printed across and Jongin grinned.

They ended up munching on chocolate and strawberry cupcakes in the back of the classroom instead of going to practice. EXO’s debut was merely a few months away and practices had become more serious and mandatory than ever; but at this moment, Jongin mused, chocolate and strawberry cupcakes were more important than any promise of blinding spotlights and screaming fangirls.

These are so good, Jongin sighed in delight as he licked stains of whipped cream off his fingers and added almost wistfully, I bet we won’t be able to eat these after debut, calories and all that.

Sehun said nothing in response and Jongin stole a glance. There was something different in his eyes that Jongin couldn’t decipher and he wondered if that’s a clash of guilt and sadness he was seeing, but how could that be?

Sehun tilted his head slightly to the side and caught Jongin’s lingering glance, his eyebrows arched in question. Jongin cleared his throat and licked his lips. What’s wrong?

What do you even mean. Nothing’s wrong. Sehun replied with a shrug and dropped his gaze back to his half-eaten strawberry cupcake.

But Sehun had always been a terrible liar. Jongin shifted a little closer to the younger boy and waited for the words to come. At the twelfth fading second he noticed there were whipped cream stains on the corners of Sehun’s lips; a few drops of soft pink stains bringing a spark of life on his fair skin but still a flaw regardless. After one hundred and twenty, Sehun murmured the first hint of truth. You’re graduating soon.

The silence that followed nursed an off-beat tune of wind knocking against the windows and sluggish ticking of the hands of time hung on the wall just a few inches above the whiteboard in front of the class and Jongin wondered how time could feel so fast and slow at the same time. I am, aren’t I?

There won’t be these anymore, Sehun said almost sadly as he lifted his gaze to the ceiling. Jongin followed his gaze and a few strings of memories untangled themselves in his mind, flooding his vision with shared cupcakes, distant echoes of words, and stolen times. What are you saying, he heard himself asking, intended nonchalance slipped away to nowhere.

Sehun averted his gaze to him, his expression unreadable. Jongin blinked as he felt the odd feeling that he always had whenever they’re too close; of dulled and freefalling heartbeats.

In a few months you’d be Kai, and I’d be Sehun, a shaky chuckle escaped in between the partition of the younger’s lips. It’s strange how his own name tasted different now, Sehun thought.

Sehun and Sehun.

EXO’s Sehun and Oh Sehun’s Sehun. One same person yet colored in two different sides of spectrum. Not much different, Sehun often repeated to himself but it always fell through somewhere in between his brain and his heart and never tasted quite right. You’ll graduate and we’ll debut and there won’t be Kim Jongin and Oh Sehun anymore.

Why he wanted to hold onto this, he didn’t quite understand either. Names are just names, aren’t they?

Jongin nested his gaze back to those warm dark-brown orbs and the last rays of the sinking sun broke through the windows, illuminating the boy with a sad smile in front of him and he wondered how it seemed like it was both mending and breaking the quiescent figure at the same time, in all beautiful ways possible.

And there were whipped cream stains on the corners of Sehun’s lips; a few drops of soft pink stains bringing a spark of life on his fair, pale skin, but it was still a flaw regardless. After one hundred and twenty, Jongin leaned in and learnt that Sehun’s lips tasted like a mix of sweet, strawberry-flavored whipped cream and patches of warm sunshines.

And when he pulled away, there was a damp feeling under Jongin’s half-lidded eyes. Jongin blinked and a drop of tear that wasn’t his trailed down his cheek.

The confession came out a few strings of silence later.

Jongin couldn’t really say he’s surprised.

I... I like Lu Han-hyung. The undeciphered emotions in his eyes were dripping into his voice now, and Jongin could faintly feel something finally cracked inside him because the confession felt so wrong.

Lu Han-hyung? A pair of beautiful doe eyes, a blinding smile and a soothing voice. Of hushed whispers and concealed smiles and perhaps something much much more.

But, really, how could he not know?

What on earth had he, Kim Jongin, hoped to accomplish by kissing his best friend?

A confession that he himself had never dared to say?

What a fool.

(But here’s a fact:

The day previously, Lu Han came up to him with a smug smile on his face, taking him into a bone-crushing hug and announced breathlessly that Sehun had said yes to his confession.)

They let silence filled in to soothe the erratic heartbeats, and it takes another sixty seconds for Jongin to realize that Sehun was saying goodbye. You’ll graduate and we’ll debut and there won’t be Kim Jongin and Oh Sehun anymore.

Kim Jongin and Oh Sehun had to end here and Kim Jongin was a day too late to save them both.

The air suddenly felt too thin.

If... If — Jongin didn’t understand why it came out choked, because he was not crying, he was not going to cry — If I told you I loved you, always had, would you still — ?

(or, perhaps, this was four years overdue; lost in between the heys and see you laters)

The desperation in his voice and the blank stare in Sehun’s eyes were surprisingly suffocating.

There’s no ifs, Sehun said quietly after a few heartbeats as he looked away. Warm tears were still falling from the corners of his eyes and Sehun wondered why it tasted so bitter.

Then why are you crying? Jongin’s mind screamed. Why are you crying, he demanded shakily and grasped the younger shoulders to turn the latter to face him, all tear-streaked and broken. Why are you crying.

Sehun felt so warm and fragile in his grasp and to his own surprise, Sehun pushed him back almost forcefully and the next thing he knew Sehun’s lips were once again pressed against his; it was rough, almost painfully so, and this time Jongin could taste anger and grief in between hungry tongues and parted lips.

Because I loved you, Sehun trembles after he pulled away, all breathless and red swollen lips, because I loved you and I hate you and I love Lu Han-hyung so much it’s confusing, because it’s eating my sanity because you, you, you, he rested his forehead against Jongin’s and took a lungful of air as he fluttered his eyes shut. I don’t even know what to do about you.

Then stay, the words rolled out of Jongin’s tongue in an earnest plea, I can fix this. Please. Let me fix this.

It’s not working, Sehun shook his head and Jongin found himself unable to retort, the words died on his tongue because deep down, he knew it’s true. It’s not working, Sehun repeated firmly for him, pulling himself back and wondered where had all of those years flown; if they really had been in love why couldn’t there be any I love yous in between those heys and see you laters?

I want to love Lu Han-hyung properly, Jongin, Sehun whispered, and somehow it hurts, but I really do want to. I really do love him. He lifted his gaze. I can’t go on like this anymore, Jongin. I can’t.

And No, Jongin wanted to scream, you can’t do this to me, not after all we’ve been through, I will fix this I will fix us —

But nothing came out. Nothing, as he struggled inside to force himself to function properly, to fucking get over it because Sehun is with Lu Han now, move the fuck on.

The next words that escaped his lips took even himself by surprise. Are you happy?

Sehun simply stared at him in response, eyes widening and mouth slightly ajar. Trails of tears were already drying up on his pale cheeks.

It almost felt like hearing someone else was saying it for him. Are you happy?

(I can’t give you up.)

Sehun’s gaze softened and there’s no Kim Jongin in those dark-brown orbs anymore. Yes, the boy that had the world hung in his name said softly.

(What should I do?)

The smile playing on Sehun’s lips was as beautiful as it had always been. I am happy.

(Is this it?)

Good, Jongin replied numbly, although there was a smile on his lips, good, he repeated and got to his feet.

Outside, the sky was already dark as the horizon finally swallowed the sun whole. It had grown too quiet and too cold, and there was no moon nor stars in sight. Just a plain black canvas perpetually stretched to the end of the world.

Hey, Sehun tentatively began for the first time, because all these years Jongin would always begin and Sehun end. Always see you laters and never heys.

Jongin looked back and met with a pair of crescent moons that strangely felt both foreign and familiar at the same time. My name is Sehun. A stretched hand.

Jongin raised his eyebrows in question but Sehun persisted.

Kai, Jongin heard himself saying after a brief silence, hands unmoving on his sides. If it hurt him, Sehun didn’t let it show as he dropped his hand back and interlaced his fingers together.

Kai, Sehun repeated and it almost looked like he was tasting an intangible flavor the name held. Well, Kai, I can see we’re going to be best, best friends. Sehun’s voice was shaky, but he wouldn’t back down now, would he? He lifted his gaze and a smile grew on his lips. Sehun and Kai. Se kai. Did you know that sekai means world in Japanese?

No, and Jongin suddenly felt the urge to laugh and cry at the same time, whoever cares?

Sehun stood up and laughed. Let’s go, he said meekly with a stretched hand and crinkling eyes. Jongin gazed at Sehun’s hand and mentally told himself that he’s Kai now and Kai wasn’t helplessly in love with Oh Sehun, and the Sehun in front of him now is Lu Han’s Sehun and not the boy who’d stolen his heart all those smiles and tears ago.

It’s going to be alright, isn’t it, Jongin thought as he carefully took Sehun’s hand as if it’d burn and braced for the pain.

He took a deep breath. One. Two. Three.

It never came.

Sehun’s hand was as warm and soft as he remembered and Jongin could feel a smile rose from the corners of his own lips. You sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind me holding your hand like this?

Sehun furrowed his brows and pursed his lips in a mock-contemplation. He might, he’s a jealous type, he said seriously only to burst into laughter a second later and Jongin found himself laughing along.

Come on, Sehun interlaced their fingers tighter and Jongin thought that maybe, maybe everything would be alright in the end.

We have the world waiting for us.

[drabble] drabble compilation

flightlesswish — Mon, 22 Jul 2013 16:14:49 GMT

I / II

5. Shut Up (and Let Me Love You)

Kris / Lu Han, Kris / Sooyoung, Sehun / Lu Han | Romance | PG | 477w

Lu Han straightened his tie, staring at his own reflection in the mirror. He looked quite good in black suit, he decided. He smiled faintly to himself, convincing his stubborn heart that it's not broken.

Well, not quite.

He sighed, turning around and exited his room. Everything would be just fine.

Lu Han learnt that Wu Fan looked extremely gorgeous in his tuxedo an hour later. Their eyes met, and Wu Fan waved his hand, silently asking Lu Han to come over. Lu Han smiled bitterly, but still approached the tall man anyway.

"I didn't think you'd come," Wu Fan said, awkward smile on his lips. Lu Han chuckled, shaking his head.

"Do you really think I'm that pathetic?"

Wu Fan patted the shorter man's shoulder, laughing awkwardly.

"I'm sorry. Really. And thank you." Wu Fan whispered, and Lu Han had known him too well to notice the sincere tone in his voice.

Lu Han thought he wanted to cry.

He wanted to yell at the tall man the whys— why did he have to marry that woman, why did he leave me for that stupid woman, why am I not good enough—

He pushed those questions to the back of his mind, mentally telling his stupid heart to stop beating so fast and his brain to stop thinking, for goodness' sake.

Lu Han lifted his face, a smile on his lips.

"I wish you both happiness."

Lu Han sat still when Wu Fan and his bride exchanged vows, and finally, kissed. Lu Han closed his eyes when it happened, not wanting to damage his heart even more.

He sent them off for their honeymoon after the vow, like everyone else, throwing rose petals to the newlywed.

He did not throw those stupid petals directly to the bride's face intentionally. He did not.

That was when he heard a laugh beside him, and found that a man (boy?) taller than him giggling at his childish behavior.

"Oh, I'm sorry." The man apologized when he noticed Lu Han was staring at him.

Lu Han continued to stare.

The man stared back at him, baffled.

After a few moments of silence, the man offered his hand.

"Uh, I didn't mean to laugh but you looked like you wanted to kill Sooyoung-noona with those stupid petals. I'm Oh Sehun, by the way."

Lu Han still continued to stare.

Sehun pulled his own hand and stratched the back of his neck, tilting his head slightly.

"Is there something wrong with my face? I swear I took a bath and washed my face before I came here. It's Sooyoung-noona's big day and—"

"Shut up."

Sehun shut up. Lu Han beamed.

"I'm Lu Han. And I know this might sound creepy, but I think I just fell for you. So, tell me, do you like Manchester United and Dong Bang Shin Ki?"

6. Fly Me to the Moon

Jongin / Sehun | Romance | PG | 704w

Jongin opened his shared-room with Kyungsoo carefully, not wanting to wake the older up. He tiptoed in and closed the door quietly. He turned around and to his surprise, Kyungsoo wasn't in the room. Instead, there was Sehun sitting on the edge of Kyungsoo's bed, eyes gazing far into the opened window.

The cool night breeze hit Jongin's skin gently, making him shivered. He hugged himself and approached the younger man.

"Hey what are you—"

Sehun jumped from the bed, immediately facing Jongin in shock. It amused Jongin how Sehun's usual pale cheeks turned a few shades redder.

"He-hey," Sehun mumbled, eyes downcasted, "Looks like we'll be roommates tonight. Kyungsoo hyung and Joonmyun hyung are..." He swallowed the rest of the sentence, cheeks turned even more shades redder.

Jongin simply rolled his eyes and heads to his bed. He tossed his backpack to the side, then threw himself into his bed, moaning in pleasure at the comfort he got and closed his eyes to sleep.

Sehun still stood there, unmoving. After a few heartbeats of feeling uncomfortable being watched, Jongin opened his eyes again with raised eyebrows. "Well? Aren't you going to sleep?"

Sehun sighed, "Can't sleep."

Jongin sat back up, gazing at the opened window. The cool breeze was rather relaxing, and it was a full moon.

Suddenly, he got an idea.

"Hey," Jongin said suddenly. Sehun stared at him, eyebrows raised.

Jongin smirked.

"Let's have some fun."

They sneaked out of the apartment and ended up at the empty park nearby. Jongin stretched his arms wide, inhaling the oxygen deep into his lungs.

"We're doomed if we got caught," Sehun pointed out in horror, but Jongin just waved him off.

"Let's just." Jongin said and started spinning, dancing in fluid motion to the sound of silence. Jongin offered a hand to Sehun, smirking with an eyebrow raised, inviting. Sehun widened his eyes, and the next thing he knew he was dancing with Jongin, bathed in the moonlight.

Jongin led him to a slow, delicate dance he'd seen in the musicals. He handled Sehun as if he was as fragile as a glass, and the expression in his face was so sincere and and—

"Ready?" He whispered into Sehun's ear, sending shivers into the younger's spine. Jongin lifted Sehun up carefully and Sehun felt like he could touch the moon. He caught Sehun back just as careful in his arms, and Sehun knew the song was about to end.

Jongin took Sehun to one last spin and then cupped Sehun's face with his cool palms, offering a faint smile.

Jongin decided that Sehun looked beautiful bathed in the moonlight. Those red rosy full lips just slightly ajar, eyes opened wide in surprise and cheeks red from the heat of his body.

He could feel he was burning; his heart racing rapidly, adrenaline rushing through his veins, stopping his train of thought —- yet he also felt like he was drowning at the same time, his lungs moved back and forth in his rib cages, gasping for air. He remembered every stolen glances and stifled smiles; even the odd feeling of jealousy that seemed endless every time he saw Sehun with someone else.

Jongin traced Sehun's face with his fingers gently and stopped abruptly on the corner of Sehun's lips because right now, it’s just the two of us. Sehun stayed still, as if frozen. Before long, reality hit Jongin because no, no, we’re not supposed to be like this and he pulled his hands away, turning on his heels to leave but to his own surprise he felt a grip around his wrist. He turned around to find Sehun staring at him, hand gripping his tight to prevent him from leaving. Jongin widened his eyes.

Sehun inched closer, visibly blushing under the moonlight. Jongin raised his eyebrows.

"Jongin-ah," Sehun started, hesitated. Jongin said nothing, standing still.

"Would you fly me to the moon again?" Sehun asked, eyes sparkling. They were so close now. Sehun linked his fingers with Jongin's, smiling encouragingly. Jongin felt his eyes softened.

"Yes, yes, as many as you want," He whispered and pulled Sehun in gently for a kiss, and felt like he had the world right in his arms.

7. Better

Tao / Baekhyun | Romance | PG | 585w

Zitao looked up from the papers he was reading when he heard the apartment door opened. He smiled at the sight of his lover for five years, immediately getting up from the couch and pulled him into his arms.

"I miss you, baobei," Zitao breathed, burying his face into his neck. He sighed, pushing him away then gave him an apologetic smile.

Zitao pouted, "You don't miss me?"

He pecked Zitao's pouty lips, "I do, believe me, I just..." He faltered, his expression sour. Zitao cupped his face with his palms, smiling softly.

"Lost the case?" Zitao asked sympathetically, tilting his head slightly to the right. He sighed, nodding. "I screwed up," He said bitterly, looking away. He pulled away again and walked into their bedroom. Zitao tailed from behind. He took off his branded suit and tossed it to the bed, then started unbuttoning his shirt whilst walking towards the bathroom.

Zitao could hear the click sound of the bathroom door locking, and couldn't hide his disappointment. He walked towards the bathroom and knocked on the door once.

"Baobei? Are you okay?"

He put his ear on the door, and got a knock and a muffled "Yes, sorry," from behind. He sighed, and walked towards their bed. He threw himself on the bed, closing his eyes. He had known his lover too well to know he was upset. He was probably crying in the bathroom now and he locked the door.

He felt useless.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, rolling to Baekhyun’s side of their bed. He inhaled his lover’s scent deeply, and wondering how could he, the Huang Zitao, the only heir of the famous Huang Hotel across the globe, still be madly in love with a boy for five years, and he didn't think he would stop any time soon. He banged his head into the pillow, mentally scolding himself for even thinking about it.

"Why are you hurting yourself?"

Zitao turned his head to the side to see Baekhyun had came out from the shower, now looking comfortable in his baby blue pajamas. Zitao sighed, rolling back to his side of the bed and patting the empty spot beside him. Baekhyun silently obeyed and snuggled closer to the taller man for warmth, burying his face in Zitao’s chest.

"Baekhyun," Zitao said softly, gently rubbing his back in circles. Baekhyun only hummed in response, not willing to pull away any time soon.

"Look at me with those beautiful eyes of yours, baobei," Zitao whispered sinfully seductive, and Baekhyun couldn't resist but to obey. The lawyer stared at him, wide-eyed and eyebrows raised.

"I know how to make you feel better, guess what?" Zitao said, smirking. Baekhyun sighed, "What. If it's watching Kris' newest drama or staring at Kris' beautiful chocolate abs from Vogue, it doesn't work. I've tried those."

Zitao pouted, feeling jealous. Damn Baekhyun with his obsession with that Canadian actor, Kris Wu. He put a mental note to put Kris Wu into the black list of any Huang Hotel across the globe. Ha.

"Of course not." Zitao sighed, pinching his cheek playfully. Baekhyun pursed his lips. "Then what?"

"This." Zitao smirked and took Baekhyun’s lips into his, kissing him passionately, hands dangerously low on the shorter’s hips. Baekhyun gasped in surprise but soon melted into the kiss. He pulled Zitao closer to deepen the kiss and let Zitao to start undressing him with his skilled hands. Damn.

Zitao smirked. "Let me show you how much better I am than Kris Wu."

8. So Close

Kris / Tao , Kris / Chanyeol | Humor | PG | 974w

Zitao fixes his tie for the nth time this morning and stares at his own reflection on the mirror. Lu Han suddenly pops to his side, grinning ear to ear.

"You look amazing, Mr. Huang," The older man coos, staring at the younger man like a proud mother. Zitao's cheeks reddens as he turns his back on the mirror. He clears his throat.

"I... Is this alright?" Zitao asks, hesitation and fear are clear in his tone. Lu Han smiles softly and guides Zitao to sit on the chair and kneels down in front of him, hands on the younger's lap.

"Are we seriously having this conversation now?" Lu Han asks, his doe eyes gazing deep into Zitao's.

Zitao sighs. "I'm not sure. I don't know." He confesses, covering his face with both hands. Lu Han uncovers his face gently and finds that the younger's eyes are glistening with tears.

"Do you love him?" Lu Han asks, looking at him straight in the eye.

Zitao gives him an incredulous look. "What. Of course I do."

"Do you trust him?"

"What are you—"

"Do you trust him?" Lu Han insists, firmly this time.

"I'll bet my life for him," Zitao answers impatiently, "Are you doubting my love for him now?"

Lu Han chuckles at the younger’s reply. "Weren't you doubting his love for you just now?"

Zitao falls silent. Lu Han simply takes the younger’s hands in his and squeezes them gently.

"Should I...?" Zitao hesitates. Lu Han straightens the younger's tie and stands up. He gives Zitao an encouraging smile, offering his hand.

"When you're ready."

The walk to the altar feels like an eternity to Zitao. The door opens to reveal their guests: the exo members are all there, so are their parents and close friends. They stand for Zitao, all smiles. Lu Han takes Zitao's hand in his, guiding him forward.

At the end of the altar was Zitao's groom, with his back on him. When the music starts playing, Yifan Wu turns around and smiles fondly at him. Zitao's mind goes blank and for a second he considers running instead of doing the slow walking they have rehearsed for a lot of times before. Lu Han seems to sense this and holds Zitao's hand tighter in his, as if warning him.

When they arrive, at last, Lu Han hands Zitao's hand to Yifan and goes back to sit on the second row where Sehun is waiting.

Zitao glances at Yifan nervously, but Yifan is already facing the Priest, determination in his face. The Priest immediately starts the prayers and blessings, and after some moments that feels like forever, he says to Yifan: "You may now say your vow."

Yifan turns to Zitao, holding his hands gently in his and says:

"I, Wu Yifan, take you, Huang Zitao, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

Zitao holds his breath when Yifan says his vow, and when the Priest cues him to say his, his mind goes completely blank.

"I..." He begins, but he can remember nothing. The guests are starting to whisper after a minute of silence and beside him Yifan is staring at him questioningly, eyebrows raised.

"I—" he tries again, but he really can't remember anything. Then suddenly, a guest stands up from his seat, and Zitao turns his attention in horror to the guest who happens to be Park Chanyeol.

Of course.

Zitao feels like crying.

"This marriage has to be cancelled, I strongly oppose this marriage!" Chanyeol shrieks, and the guests' whispers fill in the room quickly, eyes on Chanyeol and on the couple.

"I am pregnant with Yifan's child! Or children, I just went to the doctor yesterday and she told me we're expecting twins!" Chanyeol adds, eyes flickering with rage.

Wait, what.

Zitao turns his gaze back to Yifan, who is now staring coldly at him.

"You don't love me enough." He says coldly and releases his hold of Zitao's hand. Zitao averts his gaze to the guests and finds them pointing and laughing at him and—-

"Tao. Taozi. Zitao, Wake up,"

Zitao snaps his eyes open, accidentally bumping his forehead on what he guesses someone else’s forehead violently when he wakes up in shock. In front of him ,Yifan groans in pain, rubbing his aching forehead.

Zitao stares at him.

Yifan is wearing white v-neck tee under his grey cardigan and a pair of dark jeans. Zitao looks at his surrounding. They are in the dorm.

Wait.

"It's all only a dream?" Zitao murmurs solemnly as he realizes the truth, burying his face on his knees. He can’t even decide whether he should feel happy or not of this reality. Yifan gives him a questioning look but Zitao is too upset to say anything, really, so the older man decides to just shrug it off. For now.

"Look,” Yifan begins carefully, sounding concerned. “I'm going on a date with Chanyeol now, are you okay if we leave you alone? The others left to movies or something when you’re aslep."

Zitao looks up and he feels dazed for a brief moment before he nods slowly. Yifan simply smiles at him and ruffles his messy hair before exiting the room.

After shaking his head to clear his fuzzy mind, Zitao walks towards the window and sees his crush goes on a date with Park Chanyeol, and he actually just agreed on it.

Zitao hates himself to pieces.

"I hate my life," Zitao announces to his bowl of cereal later, turning the TV on to watch the show he loves the most.

Are ya ready kids? Aye Aye, Captain! I can't hear you! Aye Aye, Captain!

"OOOOOO!" Zitao sings.

[drabble] drabbles compilation

flightlesswish — Mon, 22 Jul 2013 16:06:17 GMT

Title: Drabble Compilation (8)
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing: Chanyeol / Baekhyun, Sehun / Lu Han, Kris / Tao, Tao / Baekhyun, Jongin / Sehun, etc.
Genre: Romance, Angst, ~~Humor~~
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.
A/N: Idek what this is either. Enjoy! \o/

1. Betrayal

Chanyeol / Baekhyun | Angst | PG | 399w

Park Chanyeol's eyes brightened as he saw a beautiful cake on display behind the window glass. He glanced at his wristwatch: it's only seven. He smiled at the thought of Baekhyun waiting for him at home, maybe he was cooking for him? Or preparing a kind of surprise party since it was their third anniversary after all.

One thing that Baekhyun didn't know was Chanyeol finished his work early to surprise his dear Baekhyun instead. So Chanyeol stepped into the store to buy the cake, the cheese cake one, since Baekhyun hated chocolate. Not common, but it's one of the things that made his Baekhyun special anyway.

Chanyeol walked home with light steps, one hand in his pocket and another carrying the cake box with a big smile on his face. The moment he arrived in front of their apartment door, Chanyeol stopped for a few seconds to steady his breath. And heart beats. His stupid heart beat faster than usual as he took out a small box from his pocket, stared at it for some moments and put it back in safe in his pocket, smiling almost like a lunatic in love. He cleared his throat, and unlocked the door.

He closed the door quietly, stepping in while making as little noise as possible.

The light was dark, maybe Baekhyun had fallen asleep while waiting but then he saw their living room was a little bit messier than usual and the scenery that greet him was never he expected even in a million years.

His Baekhyun was kissing with a stranger in the sofa, passionately moaning and licking and kissing—-

"Cha— Chanyeol-ah?"

Chanyeol shut his eyes.

"Chanyeol-ah, I—"

Trembling, Chanyeol raised his hand to shut Baekhyun up. The next time he opened his eyes they were already clothed, Baekhyun looked like he wanted to cry and Chanyeol hated it.

He hated it so much.

His head felt like it was about to explode; anger and confusion rising inside him . Why, why—

"I can explain, Chany— Chanyeol-ah!!"

Chanyeol put the cake box down shakily, squeezed the box inside his pocket tighter, and walked away.

He took out the velvet box on his way out, revealing his crystallized promises of forevers in form of a beautiful ring inside.

Chanyeol took a deep breath, threw his love and dreams into the trash bin and shut off his heart.

2. Of Lies and Perfection

Chanyeol / Baekhyun | Romance | PG | 576w

Baekhyun fell to the earth on one quiet night in December.

The dark sky was clear, no star in sight. The snow fell slowly along with him towards the ground, pulled in by the gravity. With a soft thud, Baekhyun landed on earth for the first time. He stared at the sky for some moments before getting up, looking at his surrounding.

It's a park, he thought to himself. There were swings and the others on the center, and benches on the sides. Baekhyun saw no human, thus he sighed in relief. It would be a problem if humans saw him fell from the sky. Baekhyun was sure there would be a lot of screaming involved, because it did when Lu Han visited the earth last week. A man saw Lu Han fell, and Lu Han had told Baekhyun that the man literally froze for a split second before screaming his heart out, gaining a lot of attention. After that, Suho, the leader of the angels, forbade Lu Han to visit the earth for a month and Baekhyun spent the next seven days listening to Lu Han complaining about humans and earth and his miserable life etcetera.

("Who wants to go to that stupid giant ball anyway. With those imperfect and sinful humans in it." Lu Han said. Baekhyun simply sat down and listen. Befriending Lu Han for years had taught him the art of listening while keeping his mouth shut.)

Baekhyun shook his head, clearing his mind from Lu Han's tragedy and was thrilled of the thought he'd able to use the park all for himself for the night. He then ran to the swing, hopped on it and swung back and forth while giggling childishly. Not satisfied, he moved to the slide only to find that he's too long for it. Pouting, he kicked it wholeheartedly.

To his horror, he could hear a soft laugh from behind him. He turned around to find a man with messy hair sitting on the swing, grinning. Baekhyun gaped. Uh oh.

"Hello," The man said, waving his hand to the gaping Baekhyun. Baekhyun froze on spot.

"My name is Park Chanyeol. Nice to meet you." The man added, huge grin still intact on his face. After ten seconds not getting any reply from Baekhyun, he stood and approached to poor-frozen-on-spot angel with curious eyes.

"I saw you fell from the sky. But maybe it's just me imagining things." The man said, stratching the back of his head.

Shit, Baekhyun thought.

"I just met you and this is crazy, but—"

Baekhyun had got himself together and raised his hand to silence Chanyeol."Don't tell me you'd recite that cheesy line from that cheesy song called Call Me Maybe or something." He said, eyes wide. Damn Kai with his fetish of earth music.

Chanyeol laughed. Baekhyun cursed.

"Uh, excuse me?" Chanyeol raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely baffled.

Baekhyun cursed again.

"Lu Han lied. Oh God yes he did." Baekhyun muttered to himself, ignoring the baffled-Chanyeol.

"Uh, Lu — who?" Chanyeol asked, looking confused and curious at the same time.

"Lu Han. Lu— forget it. Shit." Baekhyun replied. Chanyeol shut up. Baekhyun looked at those pink lips.

"I just— just—" feeling frustated all of sudden, Baekhyun pulled Chanyeol in for a kiss.

The next second Chanyeol fell in love.

Baekhyun cursed again.

Chanyeol asked him why he cursed so much.

"Lu Han said humans are imperfect. But. Shit. You are perfect."

3. Took You Long Enough, Stupid

Chanyeol / Baekhyun | Romance | PG | 430w

Baekhyun hated his life.

Over-protective parents, fake friends, the bullies, physics—

"Oi! Baekhyun!"

— and Park Chanyeol's stupid smile.

Baekhyun sighed as he waved to his best friend since childhood. Chanyeol strode towards him with a big (Baekhyun started to wonder whether it's a permanent thing or not since Chanyeol's been like that since ages ago) stupid smile on his stupid face.

"Bad day?" Chanyeol asked as they walked home together. Baekhyun just shrugged, he didn't really feel like talking then. He just got an A- for his last physics test and Byun Baekhyun never, ever, tolerated any grade but A.

"It's okay, let's grab some burgers to make you happy again!" Chanyeol said a bit too loudly, patting the shorter man on the back, that stupid smile still intact on his face.

Baekhyun sighed again. "Deal, but you're paying. I left my wallet at home."

Chanyeol agreed happily, then they headed to a fastfood restaurant nearby.

They sat on the corner, quite invisible to the other consumers. Chanyeol started to eat his burger while trying to make funny faces and doing tricks in (fail) attempt to make Baekhyun laugh. Baekhyun, bored, stared at his best friend's—stupid, Baekhyun insisted—face instead.

Only then he realized that Chanyeol had stupid big beau—eyes. Very stupid big eyes, he thought. On a stupid face plus stupid nose and stupid smile. And stupid brain for thinking Baekhyun would fall for those stupid tricks and stupid faces he was doing.

"You know what," Baekhyun said, interrupting Chanyeol's 19th attempt of impersonating Spongebob Squarepants' laugh. Chanyeol shut up, stared at the shorter man with his wide (stupid) eyes.

"You have the stupidest face, smile, eyes, and tricks. Why am I even friends with you. And stupid brain for thinking I would fall for those things you're doing."

and for making my heart beat stupidly faster whenever you're around—

Baekhyun slapped himself mentally. What was that.

In front of him Chanyeol looked sad. Somehow Baekhyun felt like he just murdered a puppy.

"I'm going to do something incredibly stupid right now. So stay still." Baekhyun commanded, the next second he leaned in towards the taller man for a kiss. Chanyeol tasted like tomato sauce and ice cream. Baekhyun decided he liked it.

"Oh God. I think I love you." Baekhyun stated after they broke for air, eyes wide.

Chanyeol simply beamed. "Took you long enough, stupid."

(And maybe Baekhyun loved this life after all, because he loved his stupid best friend and that stupid best friend loved him back, and he thought yeah, well, that's enough).

4. Love Love Love

Chanyeol / Baekhyun | Romance | PG | 290w

Baekhyun tripped over particles of air when he entered the SM building for the first time. People who were around gave him weird looks, eyebrows raised. Baekhyun immediately got up and bowed, feeling heat rising on his cheeks.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Baekhyun lifted his face to find an extremely tall boy standing in front of him, staring at him with a hint of curiosity in his dark brown eyes. Baekhyun smiled awkwardly, bowing once more to the taller man while saying Yes! I'm fine! a bit too loudly.

When Baekhyun lifted his face again, he found the boy was laughing.

"Is this your first day?" He asked kindly. Baekhyun nodded, saying a quiet 'yes' while stratching the back of his head unconsciously. The boy gave him a warm smile, and offered his hand.

"The name's Park Chanyeol. What's yours?"

Baekhyun thought his heart skipped a beat.

"B—Byun Baekhyun. Ni..nice to meet you?" Baekhyun replied, mentally scolding himself for sounding like an idiot. But Chanyeol just grinned, clinging his arm around the shorter's shoulders like an old friend.

"So, Baekhyun! It's my first day too so let's get along!" Chanyeol said, a big smile still intact on his face. Baekhyun felt warm and comfortable at Chanyeol's touch. The sound of people talking around them was loud, but Baekhyun felt that the sound of his heartbeat was louder.

Maybe it's just him being nervous on his first day.

Or maybe Byun Baekhyun just fell in love.

(Months later Baekhyun found out that it's the latter when he's kissing Chanyeol under the sheets, giggling and smiling like an idiot. As Chanyeol painted I love yous and promises of forevers onto his skin, Baekhyun thought if it's not love, he didn't know what else it could be.)

I / II

[oneshot] until the morning brightens [ii/ii]

flightlesswish — Wed, 19 Jun 2013 08:04:51 GMT

I / II

vi.

in bali baekhyun goes to garuda vishnu kencana, watches the kecak dance live, learns how to surf at the kuta beach, and gets addicted to coconut water when he dines at the jimbaran. he spends his third day visiting puras and learns local culture from the locals he meets on the way.

on the fifth day baekhyun lets the wave washes his feet as he waits for the sunset at the dream land beach. he hugs his knees closer to his chest, feeling the soft grains of sand against the palms of his feet. in front of him the sky is burning into a few shades of red and he thinks it’s beautiful. as the sun kisses the sea, baekhyun takes out his phone and calls the same number he’s been calling for the past four months. when the usual beep ends, he begins. chanyeol, he says, i’m in bali now.

you know what they call bali? they call it pulau dewata... don’t laugh at my horrible pronunciation, okay, i bet my life you can’t say it right either, he sticks out his tongue to the sinking sun for a good measure then smiles softly to himself. it means the island of gods.

he reaches out his hand towards the sun and lets the light passes through the gaps of his fingers. i’ve chased you all the way to the island of gods and you’re still not here.

a pause. are you mad at me, chanyeol?

not far from him, the waves crash loudly against the rocks and he feels his heart sinks along the retreating waves; hurt and broken but still looks mighty and whole.

i’m so sorry, he whispers, burying his face on his bare knees and let himself breaks down yet again, i’m so sorry, i’ve done wrong, it’s all my fault —

at sunrise he buys another postcard and sends it to the sea.

(please come back, i love you, i love you i love you i love you — )

vii.

i love you. you know that, right?

viii.

the next morning baekhyun pushes the bell to exo dorm. after the sixth ring, lu han’s voice can be heard through the intercom. nuguseyo?

baekhyun opens his mouth but nothing comes out. nuguseyo? lu han repeats. he imagines lu han in his pink deer pajamas, leaning against the wall behind the door, rubbing the sleepiness off of his doe eyes and is too sleepy to take a glance at the camera to see who his early visitor is. the lump in his throat is refusing to go away so baekhyun opts to knock softly on the door. knock knock knock.

nuguse — oh

baekhyun offers a small smile to the camera and steps back as lu han opens the door and immediately pulls him into his arms roughly, tightly holding onto him as if he could fly away at any moment. baekhyun, lu han breathes out, his voice trembles as his body does, his face buried in the crook of baekhyun’s exposed neck. you’re back.

he puts his arms around the older man and hugs him closer. he tries not to think of how skinny lu han has become, how fragile he’s felt in his arms, and loses himself in the familiar strawberry scent of lu han’s cream-colored hair.

yes, hyung, he says quietly. i’m back.

yifan accompanies him for the night.

(but chanyeol will come, he protests, where will he sleep when he does?

everybody falls silent until sehun finally sighs and says, he’ll sleep on the floor and takes lu han away with him to their shared-bedroom. kyungsoo gives him an apologetic smile and hugs him and everyone else except yifan follows suit before they, too, leave until it’s only him alone with yifan in the quiet living room.)

tell me about your journey, yifan says when they’re already in the bedroom as he tucks himself under the blanket, it seems interesting.

a small smile grows on baekhyun’s lips as he nods, sleepy eyes gazing at the plain white ceiling. i went to find chanyeol.

yifan hums. did you find him?

i did, in barcelona, baekhyun frowns, but he’s gone after telling me to go back to seoul.

yifan says nothing so he continues, then i went to bali because i suddenly remembered he said he wanted to go there but he’s not there. i figured he’s back in seoul but he’s not here either. he averts his gaze to yifan, do you happen to know where he is, hyung?

yifan gazes back at him and pulls him closer, placing a gentle kiss on top of his head. yeah, i actually do, he answers, and i’m taking you to him tomorrow.

baekhyun yawns as sleep approaches him, snuggling closer to the taller man for more warmth. promise?

it may be only his imagination, but he thinks he hears yifan’s voice breaks when he says promise.

he’s here, yifan says softly, voice not louder than a whisper. yifan has taken him to a beautiful cemetery up in a small hill where the beauty of seoul from height can be seen, the gentle wind trembles the fallen leaves around them as if greeting them welcome. baekhyun approaches a headstone yifan has pointed and kneels, the bouquet of flowers that he brings falls helplessly on the ground along with his heart. he reach out his hand and traces the syllables he knows by heart carved beautifully on the stone with the tip of his trembling fingers.

he’s gone, baekhyun.

baekhyun closes his eyes and flashes of broken scenes bleed into his mind like a broken record; repeating broken pieces of his worst nightmare and unfinished sentences whirling around in his brain to revive fragments of memories which have been haunting him like a ghost. stop, he begs, covering his ears with the palm of his hands and compels his eyes to shut, stop it —

when he opens his eyes, chanyeol is in his arms; his handsome face dimly illuminated by the full moon hanging in the starry sky.

please, they’ll be here soon, please stay with me please please please, he can hear himself chokes out, his hand holding chanyeol’s which is covered in crimson close to his heart. you’re not going to leave me, are you?

chanyeol chokes blood as he smiles, his hand reaching out to touch baekhyun’s tears and blood stained cheek. he pulls the shorter’s forehead against his shakily but still gently, his breaths are short and shaky and baekhyun can feel something breaks inside him. shh, don’t cry, chanyeol whispers, brushing his cold lips against baekhyun’s forehead. baekhyun shakes his head but he can’t stop the tears; he can’t stop the truth from falling out and he feels imminent anger rising inside him because stopping any of this is far beyond his power.

looks like i can’t go to travel around the world with you, chanyeol chuckles, i’m sorry.

don’t, baekhyun trembles, don’t. you will. we will.

chanyeol tilts his head slightly so he can see the full moon clearly. that yellow moon teases me, telling me that i can’t have you, he sings softly and grins. looks like my time’s up.

baekhyun shakes his head vehemently and holds chanyeol’s hand tighter because the light in chanyeol’s eyes is fading and he doesn’t know what to do. the sound of sirens roaring across the night ignites his hope back to life and he smiles shakily, do you hear that? they’re coming. hold on.

chanyeol averts his gaze back to him and smiles. i love you. you know that, right?

baekhyun nods, lips pressed tight, unable to say anything. good, chanyeol says, taking a shaky breath and flutters his eyes shut. it’s going to be okay.

then everything goes still. the feeling is suffocating and baekhyun feels like his soul has been crushed to pieces. but it’s going to be okay, he wipes his tears, pushes the feelings away and shakily presses his lips against chanyeol’s pale forehead. it’s going to be okay.

the ambulance and the police arrive three minutes later and take away chanyeol from him, saying things he can’t comprehend like death and murder and robbery. soon he finds himself in lu han’s arms, already broken to pieces. this isn’t happening, he tells himself, this isn’t it.

this can’t be it.

baekhyun closes his eyes shut and chooses a happier ending.

( on midnight of july fifth park chanyeol, twenty-three, a member of the popular boyband exo was found dead in an armed street robbery at an alley near a 24/7 mini-market within the apgujeong region. it is said that park chanyeol in order to save fellow bandmate byun baekhyun, twenty-four, acted as a human shield when the robber fired his revolver towards byun baekhyun before running away with the —)

ix.

now i get it why mornings seem so gloomy and dark since you’re gone.

exo makes its come back after a year and a half hiatus in an out-door stage, bathing in the blinding spotlights and sparkling stars. the fans scream their names loudly like the world is ending and they sing even louder to make up for one missing voice.

in the end they shout we are one, we are exo! and baekhyun gazes up to the sky and raises his thumb up for someone who’s been watching them from among the stars.

xi.

it’s because they have taken you away from me.

xii.

baekhyun slips out from the dorm at dawn and bikes to the han river. there’s no one there and he isn’t surprised because it’s too early in the end of a november and he’s not supposed to be there either anyway. he takes a seat on the cold ground and gulps down warm milk tea from the bottle he’s brought with him.

hey.

he looks up to find a man in a dark green hoodie and denim jeans smiling at him. the man occupies the space beside him and slings his arm around baekhyun’s shoulders casually. baekhyun leans in closer to him for more warmth as a smile grows on his lips. happy birthday, he says to the man.

the man laughs and ruffles baekhyun’s messy hair affectionately, thanks.

baekhyun simply hums and lets a comfortable silence falls in the air. yifan hyung is getting married in january, he says after some thoughts and the man immediately turns his gaze to him in response, wide-eyed. no way.

baaekhyun laughs, yes way.

the man hits baekhyun’s arm playfully and pouts. what’s she like?

not she. he. he’s getting married to our precious ab style kungfu panda tao, baekhyun grins.

no way!

baekhyun sighs and moves to pull the hood off the man’s head to reveal his black hair. yes, park chanyeol, he says wryly, yifan hyung and tao are getting married to each other and if you say no way again i swear i will push you into the river. why are you so surprised, anyway?

park chanyeol puffs his cheeks, a frown formed on his face. it’s not that i’m against their marriage or anything, he says sullenly, but will they be alright?

baekhyun nods. of course they will. we want the best for them, you know. besides, yifan hyung is thirty now and people don’t care as much as they used to be about this kind of thing anymore, he says and reaches out to cup chanyeol’s face in his hands, a sad smile on his lips. you’re just... gone too fast, yeol.

but i’m here, chanyeol insists, i’m here, aren’t i?

you are, baekhyun agrees, then he pauses. but sometimes i wish people can see it too.

chanyeol says nothing in response and simply pulls baekhyun closer. baekhyun lets a yawn escape his lips as sleepiness is sinking in. you know what, he mumbles, i feel the mornings have been darker since you’re gone.

chanyeol chuckles. really?

yeah. but it’s kinda funny because now that you’re here, even when i close my eyes it’s really bright. as if you’re the sun itself.

you just love me too much, chanyeol teases smugly and baekhyun nudges his ribs hard but yeah, just a little too much, perhaps, he finally admits with a giggle. he feels incredibly light and relaxed with chanyeol here beside him; feeling his own heartbeats more alive with each beat and the underappreciated joy of breathing in the tranquility of early morning life. will you stay this time?

chanyeol hums. if you want me to.

until the morning brightens? baekhyun asks as he flutters his eyes shut. chanyeol smiles as he leans in and presses his lips against baekhyun’s, whispering promises and flightless wishes into the core of his soul. in front of them, the dawn is slowly breaking to make a way for the first light of the day. when chanyeol pulls away and tightens his arms around him, the ghost of his smile on baekhyun’s lips still lingers like a sweet and fresh morning dew.

until the morning brightens.

[oneshot] until the morning brightens [i/ii]

flightlesswish — Wed, 19 Jun 2013 07:53:30 GMT

Title: Until the Morning Brightens
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing: Chanyeol / Baekhyun
Genre: Romance, Angst, Tragedy
Rating: PG
Word count: 5,213 words
Warning(s): (highlight to read) character death
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

This fic is now available in Russian, translated by wukrikri. Thank you!

Until the Morning Brightens

baekhyun wakes up to the sound of someone saying something foreign and all he can make out in his barely conscious state is the word signore. he rubs his bleary eyes lazily, a yawn threatening to escape his lips. it’s rather quiet and he feels cold in his two layers of clothings. he looks up and finds a girl wearing an apron smiling apologetically at him, once again saying something he can’t comprehend. he blinks and looks at his surrounding. there is another girl sweeping the floor near the entrance door wearing similar attire to the girl in front of him and then he realizes that there are an empty mug and a plate of half-eaten lasagna sitting still on a small table in front of him. he can hear a faint sound of radio playing an italian song he can’t recognize from the counter, a clock ticking away on the wall telling him that it’s past ten p.m. and only then does it dawn on him that he’s fallen asleep in the middle of his dinner. in front of him, the girl — a waitress, repeats her words patiently.

non capisco, non parlo italiano, baekhyun manages to stutter in his korean-accented italian, but he takes out his wallet anyway and gives her some euros to pay his dinner. mi dispiache, he apologizes softly as he leaves. the air outside is chilling and turns his breath into white smokes. he slips his freezing hands into his coat’s pockets in attempt to get some warmth but to his dismay it can only give him a little more warmth. the hotel he’s staying at is three blocks away so he rushes, thinking about the warm and comfy bed waiting for him, a smile rises from the corners of his lips.

the bed’s all made up when he arrives seven minutes later. he takes off his shoes, puts his coat on the couch and puts the heater on. he looks around and lets a sigh escapes his lips when only silence greets him back. the sudden feeling of loneliness wraps his body, infiltrates his skin like a lethal venom rushing in his blood, spreading into all over his system. he hugs himself and sits on the bed. after a deep intake of breath he takes out his phone from his pants’ pocket, dials a number he knows by heart with his numbing fingers and waits.

the number you are calling is not active or out of the service area. please call again later or leave your message after the beep.

the simple beep sounds too harsh in his ear. chanyeol, he breathes out, rome is really beautiful.

he lays down on the bed and closes his eyes. but of course it gets boring without you, he chuckles, then he pauses. he can feel something welling up in his eyes, but he quickly shakes the feeling away. like i said before i’ll send you postcards to make you jealous, he continues, have my london and munich postcards reached you safely? he stops and waits for a few heartbeats but the only thing that greets him back is silence. sleep approaches him gently and he finally surrenders, hanging up the call and once again solitude hugs him close like an old friend.

he wakes up the next morning and raises from the bed slowly. he parts the curtain slightly and takes a peek outside the window, blinking his bleary eyes. outside, the life has begun in rome but the sky is dim and it’s been like that for awhile; now that he thinks about it, mornings seem to be darker these days.

after breakfast baekhyun buys a postcard with a picture of the colosseum, writes i miss you in a neat hangeul and sends it to seoul.

ii.

amsterdam is full of life.

baekhyun buys himself a strand of bright orange tulips from a floral vendor in bloemenmarkt and takes a leasure walk around the town. he visits grachtrngordel, the rijksmuseum, and the van gogh museum where he tries to imitate various poses from the paintings and gains several weird looks from the other visitors.

he goes to the concertgebouw on the third day and imagines himself standing on the stage with all the spotlights shine on him while he soars as he sings his heart out, the royal concertgebouw orchestra accompanying his performance beautifully. he imagines thousands pairs of eyes are all on him, mouths agape in awe of his performance, and he would see chanyeol in the front row smiling that wide stupid smile of his and cheering the loudest as if he’s in an out-door pop star concert and not in one of the best concert halls in the world, and baekhyun knows he would smile back even wider.

he takes tons of pictures of windmills and flower gardens, all colorful and bright. sometimes he asks the the passerby to take his photos. he smiles so bright his eyes turn into a pair of crescent moons, posing in cheesy poses he knows chanyeol would’ve made him do if he were there.

at night he lays on the bed, dials chanyeol’s number and records his voice mail for the umpteenth time. he curls up to himself and closes his eyes, indulges himself into yet another dreamless sleep as he waits for the first light of the day to come.

on the last day, he goes to the westerkerk and prays.

this time he doesn’t send chanyeol a postcard. instead, he sends one of his photos with a huge windmill as the background and simply writes a single syllable of hangeul.

와

(come.)

iii.

champs-élysées fascinates baekhyun.

he shops at the disney store, visits place de la concorde and arc de triomphe and other places with the names he can’t pronounce correnctly while hummimg aux champs-élysées cheerfully. he also manages to get to the louvre and montmarte despite his non-existent french skill and finally at the evening of his second day he stands in front of the eiffel tower. after taking photos, he buys two mini eiffel tower keychains and a postcard from a souvenir shop nearby and put them safely into his backpack.

on the fourth night, his phone rings. he stares at the caller id.

xiao lu.

the name instantly makes his stomach churns and he feels as if his heart’s dropped, his mind screaming to just ignore the call although deep down inside he knows he has to answer it. he bites his lower lip and takes a lungful of air. lu han hyung? he answers after the fifth ring.

baekhyun, lu han says in a mix of relief and worry and anger and everything else, we’re worried sick you fool, where the hell are you?

baekhyun sits on the rough carpeted floor against the side of his bed, running his hand on his dishevelled hair. i’m in paris now, is all he can say and he can hear lu han sighs on the other line. what are you doing there, come back.

he doesn’t answer.

baekhyun.

he buries his face on his knees as a flood of broken memories invade his mind and he wants it to fucking stop now because he’s sick of all of this and he’s been hurt and he can’t take it anymore —

baekhyun. is it about chanyeol?

he hangs up.

baekhyun sends another postcard with a keychain and another piece of his heart the next day. on the postcard, a shaky and blurred je t’aime is written.

iv.

he finally meets chanyeol in barcelona.

he gets lost on his way back from nou camp to his hotel after he watched el classico match between barcelona fc and real madrid and before he knows it the street becomes too foreign and he has no idea where the way back is. his throat is sore from screaming and parts of his body ache from exhaustion. people seamlessly walk past by him and he can only stand still, the feeling of helplessness and fear are starting to sink in until suddenly he feels himself being dragged away from the crowd by a tall man wearing dark-colored jeans and a matching jacket, his face shadowed by the hood over his head.

how many times do i have to tell you to be careful in crowded streets, the man tsks as he turns around to face baekhyun when they’re already in a less crowded part of the street, why are you so careless?

the man pulls the hood off his head and when he smiles, the world stops spinning and the rest of the world is blurring away around him. chanyeol.

in front of him park chanyeol is grinning all teeth, eyes full of life with the left side twitching up forming an odd yet unmistakably chanyeolish expression on his handsome face.

i’ve been looking for you, baekhyun says shakily after he can find his voice back, i’ve been looking for you.

chanyeol’s eyes soften and he gently pulls baekhyun into his arms, placing a soft kiss on the smaller’s forehead. i know, he mumbles, i’m really sorry. and baekhyun wants to hit him so hard for making him waiting and for making him sad and angry and happy but all he can do is to pull the taller man closer to his heart and cries against the soft fabric of his jacket, repeating stupid stupid stupid and a lot more of i love yous in between.

they go around the city and visit several tourist attractions (antoni gaudí is a genius, baekhyun comments in awe at sagrada família) and stroll along la rambla. one evening after they watch an amazing opera at gran teatre del liceu, chanyeol takes his hand and dance with him in a crowded street on their way back and baekhyun thinks he’s crazy and he can’t understand why he’s laughing anyway and lets chanyeol lead him dancing boisterously under the sparkling stars and pairs of gazes given by the passerby, but he doesn’t care and starts singing the beautiful aria they’ve just watched in the opera sloppily.

the time comes to a halt as they kiss; the world stands still in front of a reunion between two parts of a broken soul.

on the sixth day they go back to la rambla. chanyeol insists on drinking from font de canaletes and whines for double chocolate strawberry ice cream when they pass an ice cream parlour. baekhyun sighs but agrees anyway and walks toward the parlor to buy a cone and struggles to find the right words in broken english and even more broken spanish. he’s finally finished paying and is taking the ice cream from the kind woman when he hears a voice behind him.

baekhyun oppa?

he turns around and finds a girl with a long auburn hair wearing a black hoodie with the word exo imprinted on it standing in front of him, her wide eyes staring straight at him.

oh my god it’s really you, she gasps in her accented and broken korean, what are you doing here, oppa? are you alone?

his eyes sweeps the street but chanyeol is nowhere to be seen. he averts his gaze back to the girl and shakes his head hesitantly. do i know you?

she offers him a shy smile as her cheeks turn a shade redder. i’m exo’s fan.

oh, he replies dumbly, thanks.

where are the others, oppa? who did you come with? she asks curiously as she peers over his shoulder, both eyebrows raised.

i came with chanyeol, but looks like he’s off somewhere, he looks around then offers her a smile, probably to the bathroom. he should be back soon.

his answer seems to surprise her. chanyeol oppa? she echoes.

baekhyun nods. yes, i’m with chanyeol. estoy con chanyeol, he adds in broken spanish with a sheepish smile. the girl falls silent at his answer, her gaze drops to the ground and something inside him tells him to leave now and it’s weird, because this girl looks harmless enough and where is chanyeol anyway?

i’m so sorry, baekhyun oppa, the girl says finally with a trembling voice as tears stream down her cheeks, i’m so sorry.

in his hand, the ice cream melts away and travels along his exposed skin until the gravity pulls it to the ground. why are you sorry, baekhyun hears himself asking, feeling lost. why are you crying?

he finds chanyeol back in the hotel room, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring into space. when he notices his arrival, the taller man silently approaches him and pulls him into his arms.

chanyeol sings him spanish lullabies that night and baekhyun holds onto him tightly under the sheets, refusing to let go.

sleep, baekhyun, chanyeol murmurs. baekhyun shakes his head in response, burying his face deeper into the crook of chanyeol’s neck. no.

chanyeol sighs. it’s midnight soon.

what’s wrong with midnight, baekhyun replies nonchalantly, we used to stay up all night to practice. he pauses and thinks of sleepless nights of seemingly endless dancing and singing about platonic love and broken hearts.

it’s midnight soon, chanyeol simply repeats in a whisper, brushing his lips against baekhyun’s forehead. close your eyes, baekhyun.

why should i, baekhyun chokes out. something tugs at his heart and there are too many unspoken words die on the tip of his tongue. stay, he whispers — pleas, fingers tugging onto the hem of chanyeol’s off-white iron man t-shirt, nails digging deeper because he’s scared, because he’s hurt and he’s broken and chanyeol is responsible for all of this and he’s not letting him go ever again.

because he’s selfish and he loves chanyeol too much.

tomorrow you’ll leave, chanyeol says softly, tomorrow you’ll go back to seoul.

baekhyun looks up at him questioningly. we’re going back tomorrow?

a smile plays on chanyeol’s lips. there’s something in his eyes that makes baekhyun’s heart clench. close your eyes, baek.

baekhyun shakes his head and tries to say something, anything, but he’s all choked up and his eyes are brimming with tears. shh, don’t cry, chanyeol whispers and leans in to kiss baekhyun’s eyelids gently. i love you. you know that, right?

baekhyun flutters his eyes shut and they’re at the sm bulding rooftop, hands resting on the cold metal railing while gazing at the sea of stars above. chanyeol has his arm around his shoulders and from the darkeness he sees himself smiling. tell me, he says as he tears his gaze away from the stars and averts it to the taller man, what is so important that you have to drag me all the way up here?

chanyeol looks at him and smiles bashfully. i’ve been thinking how to do this and you know our schedule is tighter than jongin’s pants and i think you’ve already known what i’m going to say anyway so what i’m saying is —

stop babbling, stupid, baekhyun cuts him off wryly, i’ve already got terrible headache from memorizing the chinese lyrics of wolf.

i love you, chanyeol blurts out, hands covering his eyes in embarrassment. at that moment baekhyun is stunned, eyes widen yet his lips are pressed shut, and he remembers the strange sensation of butterflies merrily flapping their wings in his stomach and then as if on cue, he can hear a sound of explosion from afar and as he gazes into the distance, colorful fireworks are all over the starry sky. he averts his gaze back to chanyeol who’s staring wide-eyed at the sight with mouth slightly ajar. still stunned, he punches the taller’s arm playfully. did you plan this?

chanyeol shakes his head slowly as he stares back at him, no. as much as i want to say i did, he pauses and baekhyun can see his cheeks turn a few shades redder. i guess god planned this, chanyeol adds shyly. baekhyun looks away as heat crawls under his skin to his cheeks. you’re so cheesy, park chanyeol.

a comfortable silence falls as they watch the stunning sight until chanyeol finally regains his courage and asks, so what do you say?

baekhyun stares at him. what do i say to what?

stupid, chanyeol mutters under his breath and leans in to press his lips against baekhyun’s. the kiss is chaste and brief, but it’s enough to put baekhyun’s heart on a whirl. when chanyeol pulls away, there’s a smile playing on his lips. i love you. you know that, right?

baekhyun shudders as a strong wind blows past him and the rooftop turns into a dark alley with only stars and a full moon illuminating the narrow path. the alley feels terribly familiar and he suddenly feels a feeling similar to asphyxiate. he stumbles forward and sees two figures at the end of the alley, one of them is crying while the other lays helpless on the cold ground, his head rested on the man’s lap. the man laying on the ground covered in so much red baekhyun feels sick.

please, they’ll be here soon, please stay with me please please please, he can hear the crying man chokes out, holding the other’s hand close to his heart. you’re not going to leave me, are you?

in the distance he can hear the sound of sirens roaring in the silence of the night. the dying man chokes blood as he smiles to the crying man and says something baekhyun can’t hear. eventually the man takes his last breath and suddenly everything is blurring away until all that’s left is darkness.

chanyeol? he tries. the stillness scares him.

don’t open your eyes, he faintly hears chanyeol whisper, it’s going to be okay.

baekhyun looses his fingers on his grip as he quivers. the air suddenly feels too cold and foreign and the tears spilling from the corners of his eyes has never tasted so bitter. you’ll be here when i wake up, won’t you?

an utter silence answers him and soon consciousness eventually leaves him. in a matter of seconds, he’s fallen yet again into a deep, dreamless slumber.

(you won’t leave me again, will you?)

the number you are calling is not active or out of the service area, please call again or leave your message after —

I / II

[oneshot] Midnight Sun

flightlesswish — Fri, 17 May 2013 16:12:32 GMT

Title: Midnight Sun
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing: Kris / Tao , Sehun / Lu Han
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG
Word count:1,168 words
Warning(s): Language, Mention of homophobia.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

MIDNIGHT SUN

It was dark when he entered the basketball court.

Tao fluttered his eyes shut, a frown made its way on his bare face. He had had a bad feeling when Lu Han and Sehun asked him to meet up at this court to play late-night basketball together, but he decided Lu Han and Sehun were harmless enough.

It was when he heard footsteps in front of him did he realize that those rainbow-haired duo were extremely dangerous.

"Lu Han?" A familiar voice came from the darkness. He felt his heart lurch.

"Lu Han, what are we ― oh,"

He opened his eyes. In front of him, Wu Yifan was standing tall with a basketball in his hands. The moon light stroke through the window, framing his figure with ethereal glow.

thump thump thump

One two three ―

The corners of Yifan's lips are tugged upward slightly, his head tilted to the side. "Well."

Yifan passed the ball to him lightly, but in his shocked state, he missed it. The sound of the ball rolling against the floor and onto the wall echoed across the room. He gulped down his nervousness and dropped his bag to the floor, then moved to take the ball.

He threw the ball forcefully towards Yifan's chest. He could feel his eyes were brimming with tears, but he held it in.

He had to. He would not cry in front of Wu Yifan.

(Not anymore.)

They played without exchanging words, the only sound audible was the ball bouncing against the floor and the basket and the wall, but in his ears, all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeats.

thump thump thump

"Shall we make it short," Yifan panted as he collapsed on the floor after an hour, "or do you want to keep this up?"

Tao threw the ball right into the basket. Score. "Keep what up?"

He could almost see Yifan rolling his eyes. "You're avoiding me."

Tao sighed. The exhaustion suddenly started to sink into his body. "I'm not."

"But you've been rejecting any interaction with me, you've been cold to me and you ― "

"Well," Tao snapped, turning his gaze at Yifan, "I have no obligations to do as you please, for your information, I also have my own right and will to do anything I want!"

He mentally scolded himself for sounding so hysterical.

Slowly Yifan got to his feet, his eyes were soft and Tao hated it. "Taozi," Yifan murmured tiredly. Tao couldn’t help but to wonder when was the last time he was called by that name...

"Taozi."

Tao broke his train of thoughts and now Yifan was only inches in front of him. He was so dangerously close he could just reach out a little bit more and ―

"Tell me what I did wrong," Yifan asked sadly, "this is killing me. Please."

Just one step closer.

Another three words away.

(But it's still too far.)

"No," Tao choked, throwing the ball to Yifan and turned on his heels to leave, but Yifan was quick and he felt his wrist being held by a warm yet firm hand that he had been missed for God knew how long.

"Taozi. Please. Look at me."

When he turned around he knew it was going to break all of his masks and defenses he so carefully built these past few months but he couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't hold it in, not when he's this close ―

stay away from kris oppa!

the high-pitched voices screamed in his head.

you're a bad influence on him, you fag!

you're ruining kris oppa!

no no no no, I'm not, I'm not, I love him I'm not ―

In front of him, Yifan's eyes were as gentle as he remembered.

STAY AWAY!

Shattered blood-stained letters among his gifts. Ripped photos all over his bedroom floor.

"No," Tao repeated firmly, his voice thick. The voices in his head were getting louder and louder. "No."

Yifan sighed. "Can't you say anything else? Why? Why no, Taozi? Why are you staying away from me?"

"I hate you so much," Tao blurted out, his tone sharp even to his own ears. Hurt was visible in Yifan's flawless face, but he was also hurting and it’s not fair."I hate you so damn much," he choked but no, he’s not going to cry, he’s not he’s not he’s not ―

A tear. Two three, a stream of silent liquid truth falling down from the corners of his eyes. He felt his heart was going to explode with thousands words he didn't dare to say.

(Truthfully it's only three.

Only three.)

Four five six ―

"I love you," he finally managed to choked out before he covered his eyes with the back of his hand and he cried loudly like a lost child.

"Because I love you I can't get near you. They say I'm ruining you and they say I shouldn't be near to you because I'm bad, I'm not good, because I love you," he sobbed. He felt like his heart was being torn open beyond repair.

After a moment he thought he heard a chuckle so he lowered his hand and saw Yifan smiling and shaking his head. "And you think I would give a damn of what they say?"

Tao sniffed. He didn't understand. "I don't understand."

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, why do I love a fool like you?" Yifan sighed mockingly and pulled him into his arms, so tight he could barely breathe, yet Tao thought he’d never felt better.

"I'll fight the society for you, Taozi," Yifan whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead. "I'll fight the world for you so don't you dare do that again to me. Promise me."

Tao buried his face deeper onto Yifan's broad chest. He could hear Yifan's heart beat in rhythm with his own and he though he never listened to anything more beautiful.

(Although he'd tell Baekhyun that his voice is the most beautiful thing he's ever listened to anyway, but Baekhyun was his bestest friend in the world.

[Baekhyun had made him drink the sworn-brothers sake in their third day meeting and bought them couple tees and rings and all that jazz that he had to explain to Chanyeol that they were not dating each other])

Tao pulled back and he traced Yifan's face with his finger, reviving the memories he's painted with his lips and tongue. So he leaned in, Yifan's lips felt so soft against his.

(The lights outside had burnt out but tonight they're burning bright as one like a midnight sun.)

― epilogue ―

"Remind me to thank those rainbow twins. You think a couple tees will do?" Yifan asked as he pulled Tao closer to him beneath the sheets. The air-conditioned air felt cold against his bare skin.

Tao smiled lazily, snuggling closer for warmth blissfully. "Nah, I'm thinking of Victoria's Secret. I think Lu Han would look good on those."

― the end ―

[drabble] White Confession

flightlesswish — Sun, 05 May 2013 11:47:17 GMT

Title: White Confession
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing: Kris / Baekhyun / Sehun , Baekhyun / Chanyeol
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG
Word count: 765 words
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

white confession

chanyeol had drifted off to sleep in baekhyun's arms when the baekhyun's phone buzzed. baekhyun carefully loosened his hold of the younger yet much taller man, hand reaching out for his phone on the night-stand just beside their shared-bed. a lazy smile played on his lips when he read who the sender was.

from: oh.mi.ja
are you asleep yet?

baekhyun tilted his head slightly to the side, typing in "why?" and hit the "send" button with a smirk. he didn't even have to wait long for the reply to come.

from: oh.mi.ja
I miss you.

the sound of chanyeol's steady breathing beside him told him to stay, but the quiet dorm and his racing and burning heart told him to ran to the room just beside the kitchen, burying himself into a pair of steady, warm, and painfully familiar arms.

tick tock tick tock. baekhyun licked his dry lips.

his heart won.

sehun ended up convincing him to go to the park near the dorm, wrapping baekhyun's smaller figure in his favorite cream-colored sweater and slipping the older's delicate hands into a matching pair of winter gloves. baekhyun protested and trying to get sehun wear them instead, but sehun silenced him effectively with a kiss.

they managed to sneak out of the dorm quietly, with baekhyun murmuring that they would only be out for an hour. sehun's eyes turned into a pair of crescent moons, just the way baekhyun liked it, as his lips formed a gleeful smile. baekhyun couldn't help but to smile back and took the younger's hand in his, feeling his heart raced faster and his body felt much warmer despite the cold seoul winter.

when they arrived at the park, it was really quiet, but there was a figure sitting on one of the swings. baekhyun stopped abruptly, fingers tightening around sehun's wrist. there was a car parked nearby and baekhyun immediately dragged sehun away, pulling sehun's hood on so it would cover the younger's face, but sehun stopped him. baekhyun gave him a confused look and he only got a soft smile as a reply.

"come on, hyung, we don't have forever." sehun said, pulling the shorter man closer to himself and led him towards the swings. baekhyun let himself to be led, eyes glancing nervously at the stranger's back.

"kris-hyung," sehun breathed softly when they stood two steps away from the stranger's back. baekhyun's eyes widened as the stranger turned around, revealing his familiar face. baekhyun felt his heart fell, heartbeats sounded loud and clear.

in front of him, kris’ smile was as beautiful as he remembered.

kris drove them away to the han river. he had bought them hot chocolates, which sehun drank gratefully, and a portion of spicy tteokbokki. they ate on the sidelines, sehun's head resting comfortably on kris' shoulder while he was sipping his hot chocolate and baekhyun on kris' other side, his left hand protected safely in kris' palms.

"I'm really sleepy," sehun murmured after he finished his hot chocolate, eyes fluttering shut. kris chuckled, resting sehun's head onto his lap and placed a kiss on the younger's forehead gently, "goodnight, princess". sehun puched kris’ chest playfully although a smile rose from the corners of his lips. he sighed softly in comfort and soon drifted off to sleep.

baekhyun simply smiled at the sight, sipping his own cup of hot chocolate slowly. kris turned his gaze to him, smiling, then leaned in to kiss the stain of chocolate in the corner of baekhyun's mouth gently. baekhyun's eyes widened, his heart jumped violently in his chest as kris cupped his face and claimed his mouth with his. baekhyun let himself lost into the kiss, allowing kris to take the lead as kris' tongue danced skillfully in every corner of baekhyun's mouth. baekhyun moaned slightly as kris' hand snaked onto the back of his neck, pulling himself deeper into the kiss.

i miss you, baekhyun wanted to say as he hungrily responded to the touch, i love you. baekhyun could feel kris' smile against his lips, as if saying i know. they broke away for air a few moments later, and only then did baekhyun realize he was crying. he chuckled as he wiped away his tears, feeling foolish. kris gave him a soft smile and leaned in to kiss baekhyun's eyelids gently.

"I love you, baekhyun. I really do." kris whispered ever so softly so he didn’t wake sehun up, eyes staring straight into baekhyun's dark brown orbs. baekhyun laughed, pulling kris into another kiss.

i know.

take my hand. we'll make it, I swear.

[oneshot] Wait for Me (Even After the World Ends)

flightlesswish — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 17:13:57 GMT

Title: Wait for Me (Even After the World Ends)
Author: flightlesswish
Pairing: Sehun / Lu Han
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,010 words
Warning(s): (highlight to read) Character death
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. I write fiction not reality.

wait for me

(even after the world ends)

eight.

Lu Han was twenty-two and Sehun was eighteen, old enough to know better and young enough not to give a damn about what the society thought.

seven.

"I love you." Lu Han confessed one day, cheeks a few shades redder, gaze fixed on the ground. Standing in front of him, Sehun was too shocked to say anything. It felt like the time had stopped at that moment. Lu Han bit his lower lip, fear of rejection was clear in his dark brown eyes.

After some moments of silence, Lu Han let out a small sigh and mumbled what Sehun thought as an apology and was about to walk away when Sehun's entire being finally finished processing what was going on. Sehun grabbed Lu Han's wrist just before the older man went away, abruptly pulling the shorter man right into his arms.

They stayed like that for a moment that felt like an eternity, letting Sehun's rapid and loud heartbeats to answer Lu Han's confession; because Sehun felt the word love was not enough to describe the feeling of butterflies that came into wake and flew around inside Sehun’s stomach merrily every single time he saw Lu Han, the feeling of his heart that’s going to burst into particles of overwhelming happiness and longing and want—

The way Lu Han pulled away shyly a while later and Sehun claimed his lips gently with his, and how Sehun swore he feel like he had the whole world right there in his arms.

six.

Lu Han tasted like chocolate flavored bubble tea, just the way Sehun liked it. They would steal a kiss or two during the day when they thought no one was looking and kiss even more under the sheets at the end of the day, smiling and giggling like teenage girls falling in love, making love like the world was ending.

They would paint promises of forever on each other's skin with their lips and tongues, souls merging together into one as their nails dig deeper into flesh and teeth into lips, desperately holding onto those promises as if their lives were depended on it.

five.

Summer arrived and they were heading to the beach for the vacation. Lu Han was driving, because Sehun broke a glass that morning and injured his hand. Sehun said he was alright and was going to drive but Lu Han silenced him with a kiss and insisted to drive this time.

The radio was playing Lu Han's favorite song, a classic one : Over The Rainbow. Sehun turned the volume up as they sang along to the song; Sehun singing off-key and Lu Han sang his heart out about the sweet promises of utopia. The wind that gently blew in felt nice against Lu Han’s bare skin, giving a comfortable sensation amidst the rather harsh heat of summer. He thought of bowls of shaved ice with overly-sweet rosy red syrup, fresh slices of watermelons, and the cool sea breeze that were waiting for them and felt a wide smile rose on his lips. Beside him, Sehun sneaked a hand and put it on Lu Han’s that was holding the gear stick loosely, then squeezed it gently.

The traffic light turned into red when the song was about to reach the chorus. Lu Han stopped the car, turning his gaze to Sehun and leaned in for a kiss.

They never saw the truck that lost its control was heading towards their way.

(somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue)

four.

Sehun learned that heartbreak sounded like screeching tires, looked blur, and tasted like blood.

three.

The next time Sehun opened his eyes, he was greeted with the sound of machine beeping around him. He tried to move his fingers but it was too hard for him— he felt numb. The doctors and nurses rushed in a few seconds, there was a mix of disbelief and amazement in their eyes and Sehun just didn't understand. He wanted to move. He wanted to go.

He wanted Lu Han.

Lu Han.

Sehun tried to open his mouth but he couldn't. The doctors were busy checking for his vital signs, assisted by the nurses. Sehun wanted to yell at them and demanded to see Lu Han, but nothing came out from his mouth. His lips could barely move. Soon pain and exhaustion took over his senses and he felt his eyelids eventually grow heavier and heavier. As he closed his eyes, Sehun felt a drop of tear fall from the corner of his eye.

Lu Han, Lu Han, Lu Han, Lu Han—

two.

Sehun was told that Lu Han didn't make it a week later, that Lu Han protected Sehun by throwing himself over Sehun, and took most of the impact. Sehun said nothing in response, mind completely blank.

Sehun discharged from the hospital a few days after. He packed his entire life into one suitcase, put their shared apartment for sale, and left the past behind.

one.

Sehun is now thirty-six, old enough not to give a damn about what the society thinks and young enough to know better.

As a scientist he's invented a few things to contribute to the science world and has got a few prizes for his contributions especially in quantum physics. What the world doesn't know is that Sehun's spent almost all his life trying to make a miracle, and that miracle is now in his hands. Sehun smiles softly to himself, carefully wrapping a sophisticated silver bracelet around his skinny wrist. This invention of his is meant for one time usage only, and that's all Sehun needs.

Just one chance.

Sehun thinks of the smile he loves the most, setting the number on the small screen on the bracelet to the number eighteen. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his erratic heartbeats. This is it.

Sehun counts down from eight, throws away a half of his life, and starts running backwards.

zero.

Lu Han's smile is as beautiful as Sehun remembers.