Save the Grass
Title: Save the Grass
Pairing: Sehun/Luhan
Rating: G
Genre: Diabetes-inducing fluff
Red. Green. Yellow. Pink. Purple. Red. Green.
Luhan swallows the scene of bursting stars and blooming fires as they draw fiery lines across the sky.
Green. Yellow. Pink. Purple.
Had this happened three school years slash six semesters ago, Luhan would be on all fours kissing the closest pebble he can find in that rocky excuse of a university quad in sublime exuberance that the university’s student council had finally understood what it means to prepare and celebrate the annual university fair.
But this is not three years ago and Luhan is no longer the starry-eyed Horticulture freshman with small, geeky dreams. He is now a senior---ten more weeks to graduation, baby---with constellations in his eyes and bigger, geekier dreams. And oh, he is also in love.
Red. Blue. Purple. Pink. Blonde.
Blonde?
His hair is blonde. And pink. And purple and green and yellow and red and, basically, every color that the fireworks above him is trying to paint the sky with.
Luhan does not understand why someone would dye their own hair with 93278584355 different colors all at the same time and still look okay. No, okay will be an understatement. He looks cute. Cute like those dye-colored little chicks sold by sadistic, old men out on the street near his old grade school building.
To be fair, Luhan thinks he is reaaaally handsome, hot, gorgeous, and insert-other-synonyms for male meat you’d love to have for breakfast. Except that his funky hair essentially neutralizes the hot factor and that even with his mysteriously hypnotic poker face, rainbow-colored hair is something you do not commonly affiliate with the words “gorgeous” and “man-meat”.
Despite all these, what Luhan doesn’t understand more is how this guy he just met six nights ago can sneakily pop his way in his subconscious and stay there unmoving like a ferocious weed would on a healthy, nutrient-rich soil.
It freaks him out that has one-too-many times caught himself thinking about him. He thought about him after the opening ceremony, thought about him the morning after that, thought about him when he was walking to the school, thought about him as he looked after their org’s booth, thought about him while giving away leaflets about preserving Zoysia grasses, thought about him while eating lunch, thought about him while waiting for closing time, thought about him the entire week.
And now that he is staring at the dying embers of the annual university fair’s last hooha, he catches himself thinking about him again.
Where is he? Will he come? Is he even a student at this university? What’s his name? And why is his hair colored like unicorn’s vomit?
Luhan knows he has always been shy. He does not make the first move and is almost always the one being approached by others first. But then, Luhan admits he has grown much since his first days in the university.
He had close friends---although there are only four because there are only five of them taking Horticulture. He had always been on the honor roll. He is admired by both male and female students in the agriculture division for being the first brave soul to take Plant Breeding and Genetics (a separate aneurysm-inducing degree) as additional major. Most importantly, he had successfully taken the first step in promulgating his advocacy of educating people about the difference between grasses and simple weeds by setting up Save the Grass (official registered members: five) Club.
These things, although they were not much, are enough to make him realize how big of a coward he is for not talking to him that certain night.
The university quad where he is standing now was where the opening night ceremony happened. The night to mark the start of the fair. This year’s opening night was fun. People flocked the venue. Luhan betted it was more because a popular local band was playing more than the actual desire of joining the traditionally boring university fair festivities. But Luhan was in for a surprise because it seemed that the University Student Council (under iron-fisted dictator, Kris Wu) had really broken thousand legs to make this university fair the best one Luhan has ever attended.
Well, it could have been the best but his insufferable cowardice made it one of the worst.
Luhan starts hating himself for being such a wuss. The rainbow-haired guy is obviously a lowerclassman. A sophomore, at most.
Luhan swears he has been looking at him from the corner of his eye even before the band finished their first set. Luhan is also willing to bet his favourite bonsai that the distance between them grew smaller and smaller after each song. Well, it could also be because there are tons of people pushing and shoving… but the point is, Luhan thinks that if only he had enough courage to flash him a smile, he would not have spent the days of his last university fair trying to chase thoughts about a boy, whose name he does not even know, out of his head.
The last of the fireworks bloom red before happily dissolving into the ethereal graveyard that is the hazy evening sky. The ceremony is over. Luhan hears Kris Wu’s booming voice from the stage wishing the rest of the university population good night; at the same time reminding them to dismantle their booths properly the next day (‘or I would personally dispose your makeshift stalls and organization history as part of a general clean-up drive’). The crowd thins and yet Luhan still has to see the rainbow-haired boy in the area. He watches as the last of the audience spills out of the quad and into the university exit.
When the last remaining soul (Kris Wu) has left the compound and the bright lampposts guarding the edges of the quad went off, Luhan spins around on his heel and with his head hung low, walks dejectedly out into the night.
Oh Sehun, newestslashyoungest member of Alpha Kappal Muks, walks around the university quadrangle with a newly-acquired air of confidence around him. It has been six weeks of intense initiation---the last of which mandating him to dye his hair fifty shades of gay and watching over their frat booth from eight in the morning to five in the afternoon---and now, he is finally free.
Well, not totally.
Sehun is supposed to help Baekhyun take the booth down but he figures that he has already spent his entire week watching over a stupid stall nobody in their right mind would come near to with a thirty-foot pole. If not for his cousin, Jongin, who had dragged him into that ‘org’, he would have probably never thought of talking to them in the first place. Fraternities are scary. They take you in, sign you up for public humiliation, play with your remaining strands of sanity, and then tell you that you’re finally part of the family.
Not that being with his fraternity sucks big time (hell, scrabble varsity god, Jongdae, is a part of it!), it’s just that, Sehun thinks there could have been a lot of things he can do instead. Like hanging out with his friends in the Interuniversity Marine Biologists Association (aka IMBA), playing with his pet piranha (aptly named Jellybean), buying curlers for his grandmother, studying the effects of carbon monoxide in saltwater, promoting awareness to preserve Mother Earth, and looking for that doe-eyed blonde he rubbed elbows with during the opening night ceremony of the university fair.
Luhan.
Sehun won’t stop thinking about him. It sounds like a nice, tall glass of cheesy but it is true. He learns about him months back when his hyperactive blockmate, Zitao, breathlessly told him about joining Save the Grass and how club president, Luhan, agreed on his magnificent idea of including sea grasses under the organization’s mandate.
Sehun thinks Save the Grass is a rather funny name for a club. However, Sehun also thinks that whoever founded this organization had his heart in the right place and would probably make a good partner in case he decides to push forward with his cause to protect the environment---starting with the marine ecosystem, of course.
Imagine the ruckus the butterflies in his stomach caused when he noticed that the tall, blonde guy beside him during the opening night was the crush he has been secretly fawning for months!
Luhan did not fall short of his expectations. In fact, he pulled Expectation by the tail and slammed it on the floor with his own brand of awesome.
Luhan is beautiful.
Sehun could not think of other adjectives that would fall short of it. He thinks Luhan looks cute in the group photo Zitao showed him. But in reality, he shines. He shines more than the LED lights fencing the stage where Chanyeol’s band, Not Talking to Your Dad, was performing. He shines brighter than the glimmering mini-disco balls plated on the lead vocalist, Kyungsoo’s, shirt. He shines too much Sehun has to put ice packs around his eyes that night because he has strained every optical nerve of his from all the stolen glances he had thrown his way.
Sehun wants to believe that Luhan was looking at him too. Well, everybloodyperson in that area had to take a second look at his ridiculous hair. So… Luhan must have noticed too, right?
His hair is back in its normal shade of brown now. It was the second thing he did after High Chancellor Kim Minseok hereby pronounced him a member of the AKM brotherhood. The first thing he did was to rub the sore part of his face Minseok slapped with a handgun because he was staring into space thinking about Luhan riding unicorns and farting cotton candies instead of listening to thug-life-superstar aka High Chancellor Kim.
The memory triggers him to touch the now-bandaged part of his cheek ('all part and parcel of our strong brotherhood', so says Jongin). Sehun treads the vast expanse of the university quadrangle and savors the crisp, morning air. As a pledgee, he has been held captive in their frat’s booth for the entire duration of the fair. The only time he was able to leave was during the opening ceremony when his pesky excuse of a cousin dragged him along to the concert. Jongin would fight tooth and nail---even disobey High Chancellor Minseok---in exchange for every little opportunity to fangay over Kyungsoo.
Sehun wishes he could be like Jongin. Determined, bold, vivacious. He wears his heart on his sleeve. If it would end up battered and broken, he’d just wipe off the dust and put it back on again.
Sehun sees the remaining cluster of booths on the edge of the quad and wonders whether he’d have the opportunity to see Luhan again. He has heard from Zitao that he has been spending the last ten weeks of his university life answering lovecalls from different research centers all over the globe.
A gust of breeze blows past him; sending leaves of white paper flying in the air. A green-bordered, blade-shaped pamphlet lands on his feet and Sehun stoops down to retrieve it.
It’s not enough that you keep off it. You have to SAVE IT!
S A V E T H E G R A S S C L U B
"Educating young minds on the importance of graminoids in an overwhelmingly, environment-apathetic society."
His hands shake even before he notices a pair of shoes in front of him. Sehun swallows back what he thinks is his heart hammering against the base of his throat. He stands up abruptly and stares with his mouth half-open.
“Oh~ Sehun~ I think I’d get that.”
Huang Zitao grins maliciously at him as he lets his name slide flirtatiously across his tongue. Sehun takes out a quivering hand and places the pamphlet on Tao’s waiting palm. He opens his mouth but the words dry up before it leaks out when he sees who has been standing behind the creepy panda all along.
Luhan stares towards Sehun’s hair first before his eyes fall down to meet his. Sehun finally gets the courage to meet his gaze. Luhan holds the gaze for a few more seconds before he flashes him that smile.
Somewhere on the other side of the quad, Baekhyun lets out a crunchy swear upon seeing that he’s the only one left to dismantle their booth; Kris Wu is barking orders at the maintenance men in charge of cleaning the stage; Jongin is making out with Kyungoo; and the university’s top punks (Junmyeon and Yixing) are being half-beaten to death by Kim Minseok.
Zitao takes one last look at the two nutcases standing in the middle of the quad, sends a quick sms (‘your cousin’s gonna get laid tonight’) to Jongin, and sashays his fabulous self back into the booths.
A/N: hai, gaiz. I'm baaaack! :)) This one-shot is inspired by this, this, and this. If you're a Filipino, take reading this one-shot to a higher notch by listening to Rivermaya's Nerbyoso. :D