[exo] the distance in between 1/3

[hyperlydian]

the distance in between | lu han/chen (side: chanyeol/kyungsoo) | pg13 | romance, adventure, fairy tale au
two little people set off to save more than just one big, big world.



a/n: first, a shout out to lynn, for brainstorming this with me so long ago and to manda, for the drawing that inspired us. three cheers for my beta team, k, l, and j, for helping me take a hatchet to my sentences, a kiss for m for their plotting assistance, and a big group hug for teams altair and vega! i was impossible this last week, i know, but we did it!

the title comes from the song “i’ll try” from peter pan II (try the jesse mccartney version, it’s gr9), but if you really want to get in the mood for this story, please listen to debussy’s “clair de lune”.

originally written for exorbitantly's spring 2014 run.

*runs around sprinkling pixie dust on exorbitantly’s amazing mods to help them fly ^^*

The Distance in Between

Once upon a time, all the stories of all the magical kingdoms were collected and recorded in a book. The greatest of these kingdoms was ruled over by the Fairy King, whose magic was beautiful and used for good. Because of the powerful magic of the Fairy King, each story in the book came alive within its own pages. Heroes and villains and long lost princes, in their separate worlds as living beings.

Then, one Midsummer Night’s Eve, the book was left out in the rain, each raindrop wetting the ink and bonding the pages. Such was the magic of Midsummer Night’s Eve, that as the ink smudged, the stories themselves blended together.

As the book dried, the worlds of two tiny heroes were bound together by magic, and the paths of all the stories were changed forever…

✴

The smudge is still there when Lu Han flies outside that morning, a little gray and blue patch where a cloud and some sky have blurred together. In Never Land’s sky, clouds are always rounded, like thick clumps of dandelions floating in a blue sea. Lu Han hovers for a moment, squinting up at the smeared bit of sky.

Below, he can hear Chanyeol and the Lost Boys yelling and catcalling to each other as they make their way into the forest, heading for Pirate’s Cove and looking for trouble. Lu Han refused to go with them. Or rather, he’d let out a huffy clamor of bells and a cloud of pixie dust before flying off alone, ignoring Chanyeol’s shouts of “Tink! Tinker Bell, c’mon!” as Lu Han made his way above the treetops.

Chanyeol’s smile had been particularly bright that morning, all fresh sunlight and boyish enthusiasm, and Lu Han needed to get away. Now, the fuzzy patch of sky is distracting him from dwelling on his problems.

Lu Han flies a bit closer, wings fluttering at his back and his skin glowing extra bright in the morning sun. A ways off on the coast of the island, he can see one of the mermaids sunning herself on a rock, combing her crimson hair. Further out in the bay is Hook’s ship, flag fluttering in the soft breeze. The cloud seems too heavy to float up with the others, hanging low enough for Lu Han to reach it without any problem.

He had discovered the smudge over a week ago, the morning after a torrential rainstorm. Normally, after it rains, the Never Land looks washed clean, pristine and new, but in one spot, it looked like the cloud and the sky had run together, white mixing with blue until it became grey and blurry, a leftover from the rainstorm. Perhaps it was because of all the time Lu Han has spent with Chanyeol, who was as reckless as they come but on that day he had decided to see what would happen if he flew into it.

The slight breeze coming off the sea carries the sound of Chanyeol’s laughter above the trees and with it, a heaviness skins into Lu Han’s chest, making him desperate for an escape. Taking a deep breath, he flies up, a trail of sparks following behind, and into the smudge.

It’s strange, this bit of sky, the way the light of the bright Never Land sun dims to gray, all the color gone, and it feels as if there’s something pressing on Lu Han, crushing him flat and then making him whole again, all at once. After almost too many missed breaths, air whooshes back into his lungs and Lu Han blinks quickly to wet his dry eyes.

The wind is suddenly stronger, the air heavy with a new thickness. Lu Han’s cheeks are damp with mist that seems to come from nowhere, and when he’s able to open his eyes again to look down, Never Land is gone.

The first time Lu Han flew through the smudge, he had almost fallen out of the sky when he’d seen Never Land’s forest suddenly replaced with the roof of a house, green leaves turned to deep brown shingles. Stranger still had been the way the rhythmic sound of the tide drowned out the sounds of a town.

The house the smudge puts Lu Han above is near the edge of the town, the sea of buildings petering off as a dark wood grows up around the edges. The tops of the trees, spiky and not anything like the soft leaves that bud from the trees in Never Land, stretch up over the far hills in a dense forest. On the other edge of the town, Lu Han can smell rather than see the ocean, salt and the scent of fish carried on the strong wind coming in from the coast.

The house is nice enough, flowers that Lu Han had never seen before spilling out of a window box, and cheerily painted shutters frame the windows, standing out against the plain brick. Sitting on the edge of the sill, legs dangling into the petals of the flowers below, is a boy about the same size as Lu Han, singing.

All the other people of the town are big, like Chanyeol and the people from the Indian Village, large enough to hold Lu Han in their palm. This boy, Chen, is special, and that’s why Lu Han keeps finding himself back here.

Or maybe it’s Chen’s singing. The mermaids in Never Land are beautiful singers, their songs enchanting enough to even ensnare Chanyeol, on occasion, but Lu Han has never heard anyone sing like Chen. His voice has a clarity to it that reminds Lu Han of when he’d looked down into one of the still pools on the island, filled with rainwater and totally clear, and he’d seen straight to the bottom, the floor of sand glittering up at him like the stars of the night sky.

Lu Han has always wished for a voice, anything other than the jingles of sound he speaks with now, and this boy’s voice…

Suddenly, the singing stops. “Oh, it’s you,” Chen says, craning his neck to look up at Lu Han as he hovers a few feet above the window. “I wondered if you’d come today.”

The first time they’d met, Chen had been feeding a robin birdseed from his hand. Lu Han had let out a loud jingle in surprise, wings stuttering to catch himself as he tried to remember how to fly, and scared the bird away.

Chen had looked up at Lu Han, frowning as the robin fluttered off into the nearest tree. As soon as Lu Han had been able to catch his breath, he’d turned around and flown back into the smudge, and ended up in Never Land again.

Since then, Lu Han’s come back enough times that Chen isn’t surprised to see him anymore, staying put on the sill as Lu Han flies down to land. He’s wiggling his toes against the richly colored petals of a violet, staring out into the grassy area behind the house. A small stream that winds its way around the edge of town and into the ocean separates the rood from the house, and the morning sunlight glints off the water brightly enough to be seen from the window.

Lu Han takes a seat next to Chen, letting his feet down into the flowers. The petals tickle his soles and he can feel pollen dusting his heels.

“Mother’s out at the market again,” Chen says suddenly, with a voice that borders on sour. “I asked to go but she said I’m too small and it’s too dangerous.”

Lu Han is never sure if Chen is talking to him or not. There’s something very lonely about the way he always seems to be chatting, and it’s even worse when Lu Han can’t answer.

Chen glances over at him, eyes running along the transparent edge of Lu Han’s wings. He says jealously, “You’re small like me, but you have wings. You can go anywhere.”

What good is being able to go places if there’s no way to tell people about what you’ve seen? Lu Han wants to say. A jingle and an explosion of sparks burst from him instead.

Chen wrinkles his nose, waving away the cloud with a hand. “You must be fun at parties with that trick.”

Mouth tightening into a pout, Lu Han crosses his arms and angles himself so that Chen gets a view of his wings and back instead of his face.

“Or not,” Chen snorts when Lu Han points his nose into the air. “The attitude would probably kill the party atmosphere.”

Still laughing, Chen pushes himself to his feet, brushing the wrinkles from his pants.

The clothes Chen wears make Lu Han feel very naked, the green cloth he keeps tied around his hips inadequate next to Chen’s tiny vests and trousers. Chanyeol’s outfit, with his bright green tights and belt, never has the same effect because, well, there’s just so much of Chanyeol that it only makes sense that he needs to be covered.

On the other hand, Chanyeol has little green slippers that he wears on his feet, while Chen pads around barefoot, just like Lu Han.

“My mother makes all my clothes,” Chen explained another day when Lu Han reached out to touch the frilled cuffs of his shirt, “but she couldn’t find a pair of shoes small enough.” He frowned down at the ruffled shirt. “They probably would have had girly buckles on them or something, though, so maybe that’s a good thing.”

Chen’s clothes are all kind of frilly, but Chen has a delicate sort of face, with clever-looking eyes and a curling mouth, that would suit almost anything.

Today, he’s got on brown trousers and a vest that matches the color of the violets in the window box buttoned over his shirt. The hems of his pants are rolled up, probably so he could feel the flowers on his bare feet. Chen makes no move to straighten them out, walking instead to the inside edge of the windowsill. “Come on,” he says, grabbing ahold of the curtains that are hanging down beside the window. “I wanna show you something.”

And with a jump, Chen disappears over the edge of the sill. Lu Han’s wings launch him upright. His offense at Chen’s joke is forgotten as sparks fly around him in alarm, but when he flies down off the sill, Chen is laughing up at him, safely on the floor.

“Didn’t know you’d be so worried about me,” he says, eyes dancing. Turning, Chen motions for Lu Han to follow.

Lu Han’s been inside the house once or twice before with Chen while his mother was out. It’s cozy, terracotta tiles warmed by the sun and off-white plaster walls. On one of the other windowsills, near a worn looking rocking chair, Lu Han can see what looks like Chen’s own makeshift bedroom. There’s a jewelry box doubling as a wardrobe and a large walnut shell for a bed.

At the far end of the large room, there’s a glass-paned door. Chen marches up to it, digging his fingers into the gap between it and its casing. The door is much too big for Chen to open himself, the brass knob hanging high overhead, but before Lu Han can flutter up to try turning it himself, the door miraculously pops open.

Chen grins at him. “Figured out last week the latch is loose.” He wriggles through the gap, and Lu Han follows curiously.

Inside, the air is warm and humid, the smell of soil everywhere. Lu Han looks around in wonder. The room has walls made of glass, fogged up and littered with beads of moisture so that it’s difficult to see outside. From wall to wall, it’s filled with plants, foliage tumbling over the edge of boxes or from pots that hang from the ceiling.

“It’s a greenhouse,” Chen says, flicking at a leaf near him and watching it spring back. “My mom likes gardening and it’s too cold here most of the year to manage it outside, so,” he makes a sweeping motion with his hand.

Lu Han has seen lots of houses. He and Chanyeol have made excursions over the ocean into large cities and seen buildings of all shapes and sizes, but this greenhouse is something new. Lu Han is itching to fly around and explore -

“Chen?” The sound of footsteps and a door closing filters into the glass room. Chen looks alarmed, shooing Lu Han back out the gap they’d come through.

“You’d better go,” he hisses. Lu Han is about to huff with offense again, but then he adds, “The moment she sees you, she’ll begin mothering you and you’ll never escape.”

Lu Han flutters over Chen’s head, waving a dusting of sparks into his hair as a farewell.

“Hey!” Chen shouts. He tries to shake the sparks out of his hair even as they fade into nothing, but Lu Han is already halfway to the window. A little zing of bells rings out as he cackles at Chen’s outrage.

As he flies out the window, Lu Han catches a glimpse of a head of gray curly hair and a cheerful sounding “there you are!”

No one greets Lu Han when he comes through the other side of the smudge. He can feel his smile begin to fall as he looks out over the island, the mermaid still lounging on her rock in the bay and the leaves of the trees below still rustling in the breeze. It’s almost like he never left.

✴

It’s the smell of Never Land that’s the most different, Lu Han decides as he settles into his hollow that night to sleep. Chen’s town had been flooded in smells, from the ocean, the fish markets, the forest on the other side of the stream, and the house was filled with the scene of baked bread and tea and flowers.

Compared to all that, Never Land smells… simple. The air is clean, only tangy with salt over the ocean, and only smelling of earth after a heavy rainfall.

It’s not just the smells; the colors are different, more shades in the colors of grass, darker and lighter. Richer light. It’s like someone’s taken everything from Lu Han’s world and made it more.

Lu Han flicks his fingers a few time, studying the sparks as they burst into light and then dissolve into nothing. Even they had been more in Chen’s world. Brighter.

“Whacha doin’?” Chanyeol’s head appears, dangling from above the hollow. Lu Han jumps, the jingle he lets out loud and alarmed, and sends Chanyeol laughing. Somehow, his hat is managing to say on his head while he hangs from the ceiling of their hideout. The red feather stands out against the green material, bringing out the red in Chanyeol’s hair. “Where’d you go all day?” he asks, once the cloud of Lu Han’s surprised sparks has cleared. “You missed flying out with me to explore Skull Rock!”

Chanyeol swings down and the dagger hanging from his belt flaps against his side as he lands, as lightly as a cat, on his feet. Crouching down, he begins telling Lu Han all about his adventure to Skull Rock.

Part of Lu Han misses flying with Chanyeol as much as he used to. It’s what they do together, what they’ve always done together. But he and Chanyeol have already gone to Skull Rock together, many times, and Chanyeol just… doesn’t remember.

“And then, hiya!!,” Chanyeol exclaims, in the middle of his story and miming a high-kick with a green-slippered foot. His eyes are glittering with childish enthusiasm, and there’s a place in Lu Han’s chest, right by his heart, where that look has made a home, fondness tugging at him whenever he sees it on Chanyeol’s face. “I fought them off - “

Lu Han settles back, a small sigh sending a halo of sparks circling his head, to listen to Chanyeol’s tale and dream about new adventures of his own for tomorrow.

✴

One of the next times Lu Han ventures into the smudge, the sky over Chen’s house is cloudy. The sound of the tide is louder than Lu Han’s other visits, the waves slapping against the stone of the waterbreaks and the wind whipping between the houses and the forest of trees.

The window where Chen usually sits is only open a tiny crack, but the wind is too strong to stay out in it much longer. Lu Han pulls his wings in as close to his back as he can manage and slips through it.

Inside, the house seems empty, no Chen or his mother in sight. Lu Han still finds himself in awe of the colors and smells of this place. Sprinkles of flowers pattern the curtains hanging next to the window, and the flowers are blue, but they’re not just the blue Lu Han is used to seeing. They’re ten different shades of blue, with stems and leaves that are three new kinds of green that Lu Han, who lives in a forest, has never seen before.

Every time Lu Han looks around in Chen’s world, there’s something new to find, and it has him itching to explore. The glass panes of the greenhouse door glint at him from the other end of the room. When he flies up to it, he can tell its already been pushed open, just wide enough for the tempting smell of humidity and soil to drift through the gap.

Curiously, Lu Han pokes his head between past the edge of the door, craning his neck to look around. It’s darker inside than before, with the sun covered by clouds outside, but some of the flowers are still in bloom, their petals bright, sugary colors against their foliage.

“Sneaking around, are we?”

Lu Han jumps, knocking his temple against the door hard enough to cause a shower of sparks behind his eyes, as well as around his body. A little ways into the greenhouse, Chen is sitting on the ground, smirking up at Lu Han as he rubs the sore spot on his head.

“I wondered if you’d come today, but it was too cold to wait at the window.“ He grins, the corners of his mouth curling up. “Somehow, I didn’t think you’d mind a little breaking and entering.”

Offended, Lu Han huffs, his fingers still pressed to the sore spot on his head. It’s startling to think of Chen planning for him to visit, but Lu Han has been flying into the smudge almost every day for two weeks, so it’s not completely surprising that Chen’s to come to expect him. Lu Han himself is already used to coming here, the days when he doesn’t feel dull in the face of so much newness.

Slipping the rest of the way into the greenhouse, Lu Han flies over to where Chen is sitting. He’s got flowers piled next to him, tiny compared to some of the others around the greenhouse, but still almost as large as Chen’s palm.

“Sit down and make yourself useful,” Chen says, picking up a couple of the flowers. He hands them off to Lu Han once he’s folded his wings into his back and settled onto the floor.

Lu Han looks down at the them. Their petals are a yellow that’s so light it’s almost white, velvety soft when Lu Han rubs them between his fingers.

“I’m making daisy chains.” Chen holds up a few of the flowers he’s linked by their stems in explanation. “I mean, these aren’t daisies. It’s the wrong time of year for them, but the chain will look the same.”

Lu Han watches carefully as Chen knots the stem of one flower tightly around the base of the next, fingers fumbling to imitate him. The stems are smooth, slipping out of his grip as Lu Han tries to tie them and fails. Chen laughs, the sound bubbling from his mouth so brightly it makes Lu Han stop and stare.

“Try it like this.” He leans forward, the frilling collar of his shirt gaping open to show the skin of his throat, the curve of his Adam’s apple. Lu Han watches him swallow, the place where Chen’s voice comes from moving under the skin. Unaware of how he’s being watched, Chen takes hold of Lu Han’s hands and guides him through the motions. Together they loop the flower stem tight enough to stay in place around the bottom of the next flower, fingers slipping against each other.

Chen’s hands are warm and dry compared to the air of the greenhouse, the same size as Lu Han’s, and Lu Han is used to sitting in people’s palms, not touching them with his own.

“I was born out of a flower, you know, “ Chen says after he sits back again, linking the flowers together so efficiently that it makes Lu Han wonder how often Chen does this, alone in the greenhouse.

Surprised, Lu Han looks up at Chen’s face with wide eyes.

“Not one of these,” Chen waggles the flowers in his hands, chain hanging down and swinging back and forth, “but a big orange lily. My mother says she got the seed for it from a witch.”

Chen stops tying flower stems and runs his fingers over the petals, mouth curling downward. “I think that’s one of the reasons why she doesn’t take me anywhere. The other people in the town probably wouldn’t like me if they knew i came from a witch. They’re not so happy about magic stuff here, I guess.”

Lu Han looks down at his own lap, sees the way the skin of his arms and chest glows with him just sitting there, so full of magic the sparks burst of out him whenever he moves.

Almost to himself, Chen mumbles, “Sometimes, I wonder if she’s ashamed of me.”

Startled by the sudden change in Chen’s mood, Lu Han reaches out, wanting to comfort him with a touch, more frustrated than usual that he can’t say anything. There’s something lodged in his throat, a lump of anticipation or nerves, maybe - but a small plume of sparks lights up at the motion of Lu Han’s arm, catching Chen’s eye and attention, and the moment is broken.

Chen clears his throat, the shape of his mouth evening out again. “I think it should be long enough,” he says, taking the couple flowers Lu Han has managed to link together into his own lap and joining them with the others. “There!” Too quickly for Lu Han to move away, Chen holds it up, a circle of pale yellow flowers hanging between his hands, and sets it on top of Lu Han’s head.

“Now you look like a proper fairy,” Chen says smugly, and Lu Han frowns at him, reaching up to tug it off, because he’s not a fairy. Chen’s hand stops him. “No, don’t. I made it for you.”

He’s smiling as he fixes the crown of flowers so that it sits right on Lu Han’s head, but Lu Han thinks Chen’s eyes still look kind of sad. “I know I talk a lot but I’ve never really had anyone to talk to so it’s… nice. When you come here, I mean.”

Lu Han’s face feels hot all of a sudden, the cool, humid air a relief against his skin, and the lump is climbing back up his throat, fighting his anxious swallows.

Still preoccupied with fixing the flowers in Lu Han’s hair, Chen doesn’t seem to notice. “I don’t have anything to give but flowers, really,” he says, smiling up at Lu Han, “but I was born from one, so I know they must be special. Think of it as a gift.”

Chen’s eyes are a deep shade of brown that Lu Han has never seen before.

That night, when Lu Han flies back to into Never Land, he sits in his hollow and thinks about Chen. The curling corners of his mouth, his laugh, his eyes. The color of Chen’s eyes isn’t like soil, or sand still wet from the receding tide, or the bark of a tree…

Lu Han falls asleep cradling the flower chain carefully in his hands.

✴

“You seem kind of down. Well, as much as you can be with those wings.” Chen makes a swooping motion with his hand like a bird dipping through the air above where he’s lying, and Lu Han’s wings shiver in the breeze that comes past the open window as they hang folded down his back.

Though the sun is out, shining down on the windowsill where Lu Han and Chen are lounging, the air is crisp with the chill of the ocean. The leaves of the trees behind Chen’s house have dried out, changing from green to yellow and orange. Lu Han’s never seen that before. Never Land is forever green, the foliage of the trees never dying, new flowers blooming daily. Lu Han has carefully watched the leaves change here each day when he comes through the smudge.

He stares out at them as Chen talks, the loud croaking of the toad that lives next to the stream serving as punctuation, but he’s not really seeing anything. Lu Han is too distracted to think about which colors of the leaves he’s never seen before.

Something pokes Lu Han in the side, startling his eyes back into focus.

Chen’s pushed himself up on his elbows to get a better look at Lu Han, the toes of his bare foot digging into Lu Han’s side. Lu Han frowns when Chen wiggles his toes, as though trying to tickle him, and reaches down to push the foot away. There’s a struggle, Chen letting out a peal of laughter as Lu Han takes ahold of Chen’s ankle to keep the tickling toes from touching his stomach.

In the light, their skin looks different together. Lu Han’s is luminous even without the sunlight, pale with a dusting of gold no matter how much time he spends outside. Chen’s skin doesn’t glimmer, and he’s gotten a bit of a tan from all his time spent with his feet hanging into the window box, but his skin is smooth in Lu Han’s grasp, radiant in a way that has nothing to do with magic. Lu Han can see the sprinkling of hair on Chen’s shins where the leg of his trousers has risen up with his foot held at this angle. He wonders what the texture would feel like under his fingertips.

“Alright, alright,” Chen says, not seeming to notice Lu Han’s scrutiny. He tugs his ankle out of Lu Han’s grip and sits up, legs criss-crossing underneath him. “You don’t have to tell me -“ he laughs, quietly enough that Lu Han thinks it must be to himself and not at Lu Han, “You can’t really, I guess, but there must be something bothering you. You’ve lost your sparks.”

Lu Han frowns and waves Chen off with a hand, but sure enough, though his skin shimmers golden, there’s no shower of sparks that follows the movement.

Sighing, Lu Han glances back at color-changing leaves rustling dryly from across the stream.

When he’d gone back to Never Land the night before, Chanyeol was all abuzz about someone he’d seen on a solo trip into the city. He’d chattered in his incessantly exuberant way about dark black hair and tiny hands until Lu Han had flown off to his hollow in a snit, searching for some peace and quiet.

Chen’s world is rarely very quiet. Even on the edge of town, there’s still the rolling of the surf and the noises of the townspeople, along with the sounds of the stream and the forest beyond.

“There’s really nothing wrong?” Chen looks up at Lu Han through the hair hanging hanging into his eyes. His face is so earnest that Lu Han actually opens his mouth to tell him about Chanyeol, the words bubbling up in his throat - but all that comes out is the tinkling of bells.

Lu Han breathes out hard through his nose, cutting off the sound abruptly. The unspoken words are balling up in his throat, making it hard to swallow. The hand that he used to hold Chen’s ankle curls into a fist of frustration.

Lu Han has never been able to speak, but for just a moment, he’d forgotten.

“If there’s something I can do, you could just… show me? Like a mime, maybe?” Chen waggles his fingers, the corners his mouth dipping for a moment before he breaks out into a hesitant smile.

Coming here is supposed to be Lu Han’s escape, but with the noises all around and Chen’s smile staring him in the face, Lu Han’s mind is still wrapped up in Chanyeol’s excited words from last night, and it’s drowning out everything else.

Lu Han has been with Chanyeol for as long as he can remember and no one’s ever managed to permanently come between them. Even though they have the Lost Boys, and the people they watch sometimes in the city, it’s always been just them in the end.

It’s just that there was something in Chanyeol’s eyes when he talked about that boy from the city that takes the lump of unspoken words in Lu Han’s throat and twists.

Realizing that Chen is still watching him, Lu Han tries to swallow again, blinking rapidly to get the image of Chanyeol out of his head. There are birds in the trees Lu Han has been staring at, chirruping out little songs to each other as they flit around the branches, and it reminds Lu Han of the day he first saw Chen, of the way he’d been singing.

He uncurls his fingers from where they’re fisted against his thigh, knuckles glad for the relief, and taps the top of Chen’s bare foot to signal that he has something to tell him.

Chen’s eyebrows raise, all hesitancy gone, and he leans forward.

Lu Han points at his throat, fingertip touching the jut of his own Adam’s apple.

“What, do you need some water?” Chen doesn’t get it, and so Lu Han tries again, this time pointing at Chen’s throat instead.

Chen looks down at Lu Han’s wrist, eyes crossing. “Your throat hurts?”

Lu Han lets out a frustrated breath, shaking his head. One or two sparks drift in the air from the movement, glittering and dissolving in the sunlight.

“Don’t get mad at me!” Chen says, pulling his chin back so he can see more of the hand Lu Han’s got pointed at his neck. “It’s not my fault I don’t speak fairy.”

Incensed, Lu Han narrows his eyes and pokes Chen in the throat, where his finger had been pointing. He is not a fairy.

Chen makes a choking noise, hands clutching his neck as he starts backward, and Lu Han finds himself laughing at the shocked look on his face. There’s a plum of sparks that bursts from him along with the jingling sound, and he looks around, startled in mid-laugh at their sudden reappearance.

“Hey,” Chen says, “your sparks are back.” He’s still rubbing at his throat with one hand, while the other reaches out, trying to pop one of the sparks like it’s a bubble. It disappears before he can touch it, and Chen frowns at the empty space it leaves.

Lu Han considers him, the frills of his shirt collar askew and his hair sweeping across his forehead. Chen says his mother never lets him out of the house, but he’s got an adventurous look to him anyway, like he’d fit right in as a sailor on the deck of a ship or an explorer hiking a path through a forest.

From what Lu Han has seen of his own face in the reflections of the still pools on the island, he knows he doesn’t look adventurous in the slightest. He’s got daintily pointed ears and wide, innocent eyes, and the filmy gold of his wings looks delicate enough that they might tear at the slightest touch.

Lu Han has been on many adventures and Chen on none, but still, Chen has none of that air fragility about him. The only similarity between them is their size.

“What?” Chen blinks at him. “Do I have something on my face?”

Shaking his head again, Lu Han opens his mouth and motions with his hand like there’s sound coming out, and then points at Chen.

Finally, Chen gets it, face lighting up with understanding. “Ohhh, you want me to- to sing?”

Lu Han nods, relieved that he’d gotten his point across at last.

“I don’t know if I still can, since you tried to poke out my voice box earlier.” Chen quips, clearing his throat and shooting Lu Han a look. Lu Han grins back unrepentantly, because Chen had deserved it.

Then Chen opens his mouth, and begins to sing.

Lu Han remembers what he’d thought the first time he heard Chen sing, of the sandy bottoms of pools glittering with constellations. Today he sounds like an empty blue sky disappearing into the ocean’s horizon, foam playing on the tips of each wave.

The flowers in the window box have begun to wilt, the blooms no longer standing tall enough to brush Chen’s feet as they dangle over the edge of the sill. Lu Han lays back onto the warm wood instead, soaking up the sunlight and the sound of Chen’s voice. The tips of his toes are touching the leg of Chen’s pants, the velvety fabric soft, allowing him to feel every time Chen shifts as he sings.

Lu Han might almost be asleep by they time Chen stops singing. The wind is playing with his hair and the edges of the cloth he wears around his waist. Each breeze is a tickling touch against his skin, but Lu Han is warm in the sunlight, and too relaxed to move. His mind is blissfully empty.

There’s a long stretch of quiet, Chen’s leg motionless against Lu Han’s toes as the sounds of the outdoors take over where Chen left off. The birds call to each other again, a little tune that sounds almost like the melody Chen had been singing, while the crickets hiding in the tall grasses chirp along.

“I wonder,” Chen says softly, so softly Lu Han knows that Chen must think he’s really asleep, “I wonder about what you’d say if you could talk to me.”

There’s a touch to Lu Han’s calf, the light press of a palm resting on the sun-warmed skin. Lu Han doesn’t move, not wanting to embarrass Chen, and also because he’s not sure what to do.

Lu Han has never been able to speak. All his thoughts and feelings are kept bottled up inside his tiny body with no one to listen but himself. He’s always assumed that it didn’t matter. That no one would want to hear what he had to say anyway.

The idea of being heard is suddenly dizzyingly scary as Chen’s words sink in. The lump of unsaid words is thick in Lu Han’s throat again, bordering on painful.

“I wonder about it a lot,” Chen murmurs, voice almost lost to the breeze. “I think you’d be interesting to talk to.”

The touch disappears, but it leaves goosebumps behind, where the skin is exposed to the cooler air. Still, Lu Han doesn’t move. He hears Chen’s clothing rustling as he moves around, and when Lu Han risks a peek between his eyelashes, Chen is curled up beside him, already sleeping like a cat in the afternoon sun.

Lu Han shifts slightly, folding up an arm to pillow his head on. His mind is noisy again, but this time, the voice that’s running through his head isn’t Chanyeol’s.

✴

The second star on the right is bright that night.

Below Lu Han, the lights of the city are polka-dots in the darkness, and he can see Chanyeol’s eyes and wide smile shining in the light of the moon.

“Wait till you see him, Tink. You’re not gonna believe that someone so cute can be a real person.” Chanyeol is eager and pink-cheeked, like he always gets when they fly into the city. Before they left Never Land, he’d spent an unusual amount of time trying to tame his orange curls to lie right under hat and smoothing the red feather so that it looked sleek and new.

The night air has already made a mess of Chanyeol’s hair, but whatever magic keeps Chanyeol’s hat on his head has also kept the feather unruffled as they fly.

“There!” Chanyeol crows, pointing at one roof in the sea of houses. Unlike Chen’s, this one has black shingles, made of slate, and looks posh instead of cozy, with powder blue shutters and a turret off to one side.

Chanyeol lands lightly on the ridge of the roof, the green slippers on his feet muffling any sounds as he slides down the sloping edge. “His bedroom’s over here.”

Lu Han flies over, sparks trailing after him, as Chanyeol hangs over the edge of the roof to get a good look into the window below.

The curtains are open behind the glass, moonlight streaming into the room, and Lu Han can see the shape of a boy curled up in the middle of the bed along the far wall. Chanyeol swings down, dangling by his fingertips from the drainpipe as he gets a footing on the flatter part of the roof in front of the window.

“What’d’ya think, Tink?” he whispers, leaning so close his nose is almost pressed to the glass. Lu Han doesn’t think the boy looks like much and tells Chanyeol so with a shower of sparks. Chanyeol’s shoulders shake with silent laughter as he waves them away. “Don’t be like that. It’ll be fun!”

The window is unlocked. Chanyeol presses his fingers to the edges of the glass, pushing the window up high enough to stick his head into the room. Lu Han lingers outside, peeking around the edge.

The sound of the window opening seems to startle the boy out of sleep. He bolts upright, rubbing at his eyes with a fist and squinting at Chanyeol’s silhouette.

“Who’s there?” he calls, voice wary and still thick with sleep.

With the window all the way up, Chanyeol hoists himself onto the sill. The moonlight casts a long shadow across the floor, the shape of his hat and feather stretched out over the carpet, and the boy gasps.

“Are you a burglar? The boy sounds more disbelieving than afraid. Lu Han cranes his neck to get a better look as he slides out of his bed, stuff animal clutched to his chest. “Out of all the houses on the street, you picked my room to burgle?”

Chanyeol’s laugh seems louder than usual in the darkness and he jumps off the windowsill into the room, smiling brightly and looking around.

The boy’s eyes narrow. “If you come any closer I’ll break your face with my teddy bear, just see if I don’t,” he growls, holding out his bear menacingly, and his face looks so dangerous that Lu Han believes him.

“Whoa, whoa,” Chanyeol says, waving his arms like a windmill, as if to calm the boy down. “I’m not here to burgle you.”

“Well then you should get out,” the boy says, shooing at Chanyeol with the bear in his hands so violently that Chanyeol jumps back, knocking his shins on the edge of the window and tumbling over the edge. Luckily, he catches himself, arms flapping in the air like wings as he gets airborne again, floating just outside the window.

“You can just go creep around someone else’s room, then,” the boy tells Chanyeol, still brandishing the bear with one hand as he grabs the curtains with the other.

“Hey, I haven’t told you why I’m here!” The boy raises his eyebrows and Chanyeol grins at him. “You’re coming back to Never Land to be my new mother.”

Hissing in outrage, the boy smashes his teddy bear into Chanyeol’s face. “Are you stupid or something? I’m not supposed to talk to strangers or crazy people, and I’m definitely not going to be someone’s mother.”

When he takes the bear back, Chanyeol looks stunned, tongue licking out as he tries to get rid of the stuffed animal taste.

“You’re so cute,” he coos once his eyes focus again, reaching out like he’s going to pat the boy on the head.

The boy lets out a growl, batting Chanyeol’s hand away hard enough that Lu Han can hear the smack. Then, too short to be able to reach the window sash, the boy drags the curtains shut.

Chanyeol blinks for a moment in shock, and looks at Lu Han, who shrugs. If the boy doesn’t want to come back with them, then so much the better.

Not easily discouraged, Chanyeol sticks his head through the gap in the middle of the curtains, head disappearing from Lu Han’s sight. “I’m really fun, I promise!” Lu Han hears him say. “And not strange at all!”

“You broke into my room in the middle of the night! That’s strange!”

“I just wanted to say hi.” Chanyeol sounds sulky. When he pulls his head out from between the curtains again, his mouth is soft with a pout, eyes glassy.

He droops where he’s floating in the air. Even his red feather seems to go limp, and Lu Han flies over to land on his shoulder, putting a comforting hand on Chanyeol’s cheek.

From behind the curtains, Lu Han hears the boy let out a frustrated sound before pulling them open again. His cheeks are pink, probably with frustration.

“How old are you?” the boy asks suspiciously, and Chanyeol shrugs, eyes still shiny and hurt-looking.

“I dunno, how old are you?”

“Eleven.”

Chanyeol’s face brightens up at getting an answer. “Great, then me too!”

Lu Han snorts, because Chanyeol is much older than eleven, only he never ages, and the burst of sparks that accompanies his laughter catches the boy’s attention.

“What is this? Your pet fairy?”

Jumping off of Chanyeol’s shoulder, Lu Han flies angrily at the boy’s face, trying to blind him with a shower of sparks.

“What the - “ The boy flails his bear, barely missing knocking Lu Han out of the air, and Lu Han chimes furiously, tempted to fly up and poke the boy in the eye.

“He’s not a fairy,” Chanyeol laughs, scooping Lu Han up to keep him from charging at the boy’s face again. Lu Han struggles, but he’s no match for Chanyeol’s big fingers. “He’s a pixie and my friend. They’re very magical, pixies. You’re lucky to meet one.”

“Really,” the boy says disbelievingly, and Lu Han glares, letting out another threatening jingle.

Chanyeol, on the other hand, nods so eagerly that his wild curls flop against his forehead beneath the brim of his hat. “They help people fly with their pixie dust! See, they don’t have wings, or well, Lu Han…” Chanyeol trails off from his tumble of words, brow furrowing as he stares at Lu Han’s wings like he’s forgotten something he really should know. Lu Han’s chest feels heavy again. “Lu Han does, for… some reason, but they usually don’t, so they can use their pixie dust to fly!”

“So you’re saying that if that thing,” he points at Lu Han, “sprinkles me with its magic dust, I’ll be able to fly like you.”

Chanyeol nods again enthusiastically, probably just glad he’s not getting something mashed into his face.

The boy crosses his arms, his bear dangling from one hand. “Okay, show me.”

Chanyeol beams. Lu Han, however, does not like this at all. He tries to fly off of Chanyeol’s palm, but Chanyeol’s already got ahold of him. The world spins as Chanyeol shakes him gently over the boy’s head until a shower of sparks rains down into his hair.

“So there’s that,” Chanyeol says, releasing a dizzy Lu Han onto the windowsill. “Then you need a really good thought, one that’s so good it makes you feel like you could fly. You got one?”

Lu Han shakes his head, still feeling a little spin-y and trying to reorient himself as he listens to Chanyeol.

“Yeah,” the boy says, “I’m imagining that you fell out the window and off the roof.”

He sounds dead serious to Lu Han, but Chanyeol lets out a bubble of laughter, unintimidated. “And so now you just gotta step out here!”

There’s a skeptical silence. Finally feeling steady again, Lu Han glances up at the boy. People always look a little brighter once they’ve been sprinkled with pixie dust, like they’ve caught stars in their eyes. Sure enough, the boy still looks vaguely murderous, but there’s a curiosity about him that wasn’t there before.

“You want me… to step out the window.”

“You’re not gonna fall! C’mon, try it.” Chanyeol reaches out a hand for the boy to take, helping him up onto the windowsill. Lu Han flies up, not wanting to risk being stepped on, and watches from beyond the house. “If you trust you’ll be able to fly, you will. All it takes is faith, trust, and pixie dust!”

The boy reluctantly takes ahold of Chanyeol’s hand, bare toes right at the edge of the window. He looks down, grip going white-knuckled. “If I fall, I’m going to kill you,” he says to Chanyeol, eyes tightly closed, and takes a step out into thin air.

“Oh,” he says after a moment, looking around first with one eye and then the other. “That’s not so bad.”

“Flying is the best thing in the whole world,” Chanyeol says, grinning madly.

The boy’s pajamas, blue sleep pants and a big matching shirt with buttons down its front, ripple against his body in the light breeze. He shivers, seeming to notice that he’s still holding Chanyeol’s hand, and drops it so he can clutch his bear to his chest for warmth.

“So this Never Land place,” he asks curiously, drifting from side to side in the air as though trying his newfound ability out. “It’s where you live?”

“Uh huh.” Chanyeol points up at the sky. “If you fly up towards the second star on the right, you come to it in no time.”

“And if I,” the boy kicks his feet like he’s swimming, propelling himself around Chanyeol’s side, “wanted to see it, could I come right back home?”

Chanyeol shrugs, twisting around to follow the boy with his eyes. “If you want to, I guess?”

Lu Han, still hovering a little ways out, shakes his head. People don’t often come back from Never Land. But it’s not Chanyeol’s fault. He’s just an eternally young boy who can’t understand why anyone would want to leave.

The boy stops his swimming motions, seeming to realize that he can move without them, and flies closer to Chanyeol, getting a better look at his face. “What’s your name?”

“Sometimes people call me Peter Pan, but to you, it’s Chanyeol.”

“I’m Kyungsoo,” the boy says. Chanyeol smiles over at him with that eager smile of his and the heaviness twists in Lu Han’s chest. He wishes Chanyeol had never opened Kyungsoo’s window.

Kyungsoo flicks one of Chanyeol’s pointed ears, making him yelp. “Alright then, Peter Panyeol. Let’s go.”

✴

Kyungsoo does not go right back home after visiting Never Land. Lu Han knows first hand how hard it is to dislike Chanyeol and the Lost Boys once given the chance to get to know them. Even someone like Kyungsoo, who has the facial expressions of Skull Rock, looks intrigued when the boys start digging into an invisible feast.

Chanyeol is totally engrossed in Kyungsoo’s presence. He spends all his time showing him around the island and trying to coax out his smiles, and doesn’t seem to notice when Lu Han doesn’t come along.

It’s difficult not to escape through the smudge to Chen’s house as soon as he wakes each morning. Lu Han doesn’t want to be a bother or be there so much that Chen gets sick of him, so he flies out to the Mermaid’s Lagoon to watch the sun climb higher into the sky.

Out in the water, the mermaids wave at him happily, scaled tails flashing as they flick them in and out of the water playfully. A few of them are already sunning themselves and they sing together as they comb through the long hair that cloaks the bare skin of their human upper bodies. The chorus of their voices is beautiful enough, matching the tempo of the waves that lap at the shoreline, but Lu Han knows firsthand how dangerous mermaids can be, and only flies above the sandy beach, skirting the water.

After Chen’s singing helped him the other day, Lu Han hoped that the mermaid’s songs would have the same effect. He drifts down until he can feel the warm sand of the beach beneath his feet, the grains trickling between his toes. Never Land sand is all the same golden-yellow color, just like the leaves are all similar shades of green, and Lu Han used to be so happy here on the island.

The mermaid’s song changes to something slower, dreamier, but Lu Han’s head isn’t any clearer than when he’d woke up in his hollow that morning. He wriggles his toes in the sand one more time, reaching down to brush the stray grains off his ankles, before taking off again. The mermaid’s call after him, the little bit of siren’s magic pulling at him. Thankfully, Lu Han is magical enough himself that their call has no real effect on him, and he flies off towards the smudge in the sky.

Once he makes it through (a crushing weight and too many missed breaths, dry eyes), he sees the clouds on the verge of rain and Chen’s window open, as though it’s been waiting for him to arrive. Chen isn’t on the windowsill, though, and Lu Han peeks inside, catching sight of him by the other window, where Lu Han thinks his makeshift bedroom is.

He’s got something in his hands, fluffy and white in a way that reminds Lu Han of the clouds in Never Land’s sky. He flies closer to get a better look.

The shape of it is like the bear Kyungsoo had been holding the night Lu Han met him, but with much longer ears. He jingles curiously, tapping Chen on the shoulder, and Chen flails in surprise, falling off the edge of the walnut half-shell he’d been perched on with a screech.

“That was payback for the thing with the door, wasn’t it?” he asks when he’s had a chance to catch his breath. He rubs the place on his bottom where he’d landed and glares at Lu Han, who is clutching a stitch in his side from laughter with one hand and pointing at Chen mockingly with the other. “Yeah, yeah. My pain is hilarious.”

He moves to set the ball of fluff down into the walnut shell, and Lu Han stops laughing abruptly to peer over the edge at it curiously.

“It’s a bunny,” Chen says, reaching out to straighten its ears. “I made it out of the cotton balls my mother uses to pad my bed.”

Inside the shell, Chen’s bed is neatly made, patterned blanket smoothed out over a fluffy-looking padding.

“I’ve made lots of things,” Chen goes on. “There’s not much for me to do here, you know. I even made a person, since there wasn’t anyone me-sized around.”

For some reason, that makes Lu Han sad. He’s never met someone small like him before Chen, but at least Lu Han had had Chanyeol and the Lost Boys. At least he wasn’t alone.

Chen walks over to the large jewelry box sitting across from the bed and uses both hands to pull one of the drawers open. “Once I got into a duel with a mouse.” He rummages around inside the drawer for a moment before pulling out a shiny piece of metal. “I used this needle as a sword and stuff.” Chen swipes at the air with the needle a couple of times, making a swishing sound as it cuts through the air. Chanyeol’s dagger is tiny in proportion to his big body, small enough not to get in the way where it hangs from his belt, but the needle is as long as one of Chen’s arms, and Lu Han is suitably impressed at the idea of Chen valiantly fighting off a mouse.

“They live in the walls and I found them when I was exploring the kitchen, but as long as I give them a little cheese every once and a while and keep my distance, it’s okay. If I get too close, they sniff me all over and try to kiss me, and it tickles.” Chen lolls out his tongue, gagging with disgust at the thought.

Lu Han gives a little shudder when he imagines how the furry whiskers of a mouse would feel on his face.

Chen twirls the needle in his hand thoughtfully. “The mice are just trying to make friends so we don’t have to fight anymore, I think, but my mom says kissing is special and you should only do it with people you really like.”

Lu Han has only ever seen kissing on their trips into the city, parents kissing their children goodnight on their foreheads and then each other on the mouth. Both kinds of kisses do seem kind of special, a moment between two people that puts Lu Han on the other side of the glass, on the outside looking in.

Lu Han lifts himself up in the air a bit with his wings so that he can flop back down onto Chen’s bed, enjoying the way he bounces slightly, the edges of the blanket wrinkling around him.

“Hey!” Chen says, dropping the needle back into the drawer and launching himself toward the bed. Lu Han scrambles back, trying to make sure he isn’t squished by Chen’s flying body, ringing bell sounds leaving his mouth in alarm. The impact leaves them tangled anyway, with Chen’s elbows jabbing Lu Han in the stomach and their foreheads knocking together as the walnut shell rocks back and forth precariously. Eventually, they settle down next to each other, the fluffy bunny nestled between them as Chen chatters about some of his other adventures around the house.

“Sometimes I use the other half of this shell as a boat in the bathroom sink, with one of mother’s teaspoons as a paddle.” He wriggles when he talks, making big motions with his hands that make the frills of his sleeves waggle and bring them closer together on top of the blanket, so Lu Han can see the annoyance in Chen’s eyes when he adds, “My mom doesn’t like it very much, says it’s dangerous.”

Chen’s bed faces the window, so Lu Han hears clearly when the first of the raindrops hits the glass, sliding down the pane wetly, and sits up in alarm.

The sudden movement throws both of them off balance and the shell rocks, tips, and sends both he and Chen sprawling onto the windowsill.

“Ouch!” Chen shouts right in Lu Han’s ear when his chin smacks Lu Han’s shoulder hard, but Lu Han is too distracted to worry about anything but the rain coming down outside. He scrambles to his feet, rushing over to press his nose against the glass wretchedly.

Chen comes up behind him, trying to look over Lu Han’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Lu Han’s wings go limp on his back and he knocks his forehead against the window with a sad thunk!

Suddenly, the front door of the house bursts open in a flurry of bags and skirts. “I hurried back as fast as I could, but the rain this fall has been unbelievable! Now the shopping is all wet!”

“Oh no.” Chen bumps into Lu Han’s back as he tries to whirl around, hissing, “It’s my mom, you have to leave!”

In the kitchen, Chen’s mother is making a racket unpacking her bags, and Lu Han shakes his head helplessly, pointing out at the rainclouds.

“What does that mean?” Chen looks between Lu Han and the rain coming down and must notice his immobile wings. “Wait, you can’t fly in the rain?”

Lu Han looks at Chen sadly as his mother calls out, “Chen, who are you talking to? Chen?”

There’s the click of her shoes as she walks into the living room, and Chen sighs with resignation. “I guess it had to happen sometime.”

“Oh!” Chen’s mother gasps in surprise once she catches sight of Lu Han. “I didn’t know you had a guest, Chen.”

“Yeah, this is my, uh, friend.” Chen gestures to him awkwardly, because of course, Lu Han has never been able to tell Chen his name. “He comes here to visit because we’re the same size? Yes.”

Chen’s mother is old enough to have some lines on her face, but she’s pretty anyway, with light eyes and dark curly hair that’s streaked with gray at her temples. “How did he- “ Her eyes skim over Lu Han’s currently useless wings, the lines around her mouth tightening. “Oh yes, of course. You’re a fairy.” She nods like this explains why there is a miniature stranger in her house.

Lu Han wants to send up an angry cloud of sparks in outrage, but he also doesn’t want to make a bad impression on Chen’s mother and get kicked out into the rain with no way back home. Instead, he settles for frowning and crossing his arms.

Chen laughs at him, probably thinking of the day in the greenhouse when he’d made Lu Han a daisy chain to wear, and Lu Han’s frown deepens.

Chen’s mother is still looking Lu Han over, her face a bit pink under the unsettled expression she’s wearing. Lu Han supposes it must be from rushing home in the storm. “Chen, why don’t you lend your friend some pants while I put the rest of the shopping away? I don’t think a shirt will fit over those wings, but he must be cold in that… outfit.”

Chen rolls his eyes, going over to dig in another one of his drawers as his mother ducks back into the kitchen. The pants he presses into Lu Han’s arms are soft and brown, a pair Lu Han thinks he’s seen before.

“I guess I’ll have to wash them, because there’s no way I’m lending you a pair of underpants.” Lu Han isn’t really sure what Chen means, but he nods anyway, holding the trousers tight to his chest

He hides behind the jewelry box to change, shivering at the way the pants feel as they slide up his legs. Fumbling with the unfamiliar fastening, Lu Han’s fingers slip on the buttons some before he gets it right. There’s no way for him to see how he looks, except by peering down at the way the gold of his stomach disappears under the dark brown waistband of the trousers.

It’s more strange than bad, but Lu Han’s cheeks are still hot with embarrassment when he comes back out from behind the jewelry box again.

“The green thing looked better on you,” Chen says after a moment, eyeing the bits of Lu Han’s ankles left bare by his pants. Standing on two feet, Lu Han is taller than Chen, and it’s obvious Chen doesn’t like it.

Lu Han rubs his palms over his thighs, feeling the texture of the fabric instead of skin, and nods in agreement. If he flew back to Never Land like this, he would miss the way the wind whips around his bare knees, but it is kind of nice to know what Chen feels like in his clothes, covered in fabric all over.

“That’s much better,” Chen’s mother says when she comes back out from the kitchen with an apron on, nodding at Lu Han’s state of dress approvingly. She glances at Chen, mouth going tight again. “How long will your friend be staying?”

“Until the rain stops, I guess,” Chen says, looking over his shoulder at the storm outside. “He can’t fly in the rain.”

“I see.” She sets something down on the sill. “I brought you out two thimbles of tea, and I can get you something for lunch if you’re hungry.”

Chen rubs his belly, grinning up at her and drawing the words out as he whines, “I’m soooo hungryyyy.”

His tone seems to touch something beyond the anxious lines of her face. Reaching down, she pats Chen’s head fondly. “There’s the Chenbelina I know.”

Once Chen’s mother is gone again, Chen flops down onto the windowsill, picking up one of the metal cups. Lu Han does the same with the other, looking down at the liquid in it curiously. The tea is hot enough to be steaming, curls of it coming up to warm his nose.

“I wonder what she’ll say about this after you leave,” Chen muses, taking a sip. “I know it’s because she cares about me but sometimes she just… she never lets me go anywhere because she’s worried I’ll get hurt, so I’m stuck in this house, singing out the window to the toads to get some fresh air.” He pulls his legs into his chest, resting his chin on his knees and wrapping his arms around so his cup is right under his mouth. “I don’t know. I guess being loved can be suffocating sometimes?”

Lu Han shrugs with only one shoulder, staring down at his cup. He doesn’t know how it feels to be loved, but then he thinks of Chanyeol, and the agonizing twist he feels in his chest when Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo. Maybe loving someone else can be just as suffocating.

The words inside of him are piling up again, clogging his throat the way they always seem to do when he’s around Chen. Whenever Chen speaks, Lu Han always finds that he has so much to say back, but no way to say it. Instead, he takes a sip from the thimble to wet his mouth and tinkles agreeably at the taste. The tea warms him all the way down to his toes when he swallows.

The rain beats harder at the glass, making the storm noisy inside, and Chen pokes at Lu Han’s thigh through the borrowed pants. “It’s probably a good thing you changed,” he says. He skims a hand over to play with a loose thread trailing out of one of the inner seams. Lu Han still isn’t used to the way touch feels through the fabric. “That storm doesn’t look like it’s going to be letting up any time soon, so you might be here for a while.”

Lu Han nods, twisting his cup around in his hands, and tries not to wonder whether anyone in Never Land will miss him.

✴

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