exopromptmeme fic: ex-exo sehun/tao, mentions of kris/tao, future fic
From here:
this fandom need disbanded fic tbh.
Details: Sehun/Tao, Kris/Tao; PG-13; 4,264 words (it really got away from me ;_;).
Note: This version is edited/fixed a bit from the original post on the meme, but there's no huge changes.
Sehun wakes up naturally at 6:24, six minutes before his alarm is set to ring. He breathes in deeply and stretches, reminding himself what day it is. He'd left the curtains open last night and the morning light is soft on his window pane; the sky is blue with a blush of pink dawn. He can hear a few birds chirping and the distant rumble of early commuter traffic.
Sehun switches off his alarm and pushes himself out of bed. He doesn't want to be late to meet the arriving flight. It's been so long since Zitao's been back to Korea.
---
Mid-April is usually a busy time of year for Sehun. The settling in of spring ushers in a fresh season of outdoor filming: music shows, dramas, commercials-they all want to take advantage of the new green leaves on trees and the seas of blooming flowers, making their shots beautiful and stories idealistic. This time last year Sehun had done a fashion shoot, hosted one show and participated as a team member in another, and then did an outdoor interview all before seven pm. Every second of sunshine had been accounted for, and his drying sweat reeked of sunscreen by the time he'd made his way home for dinner. It could have just as easily happened this year too, except Sehun had deliberately cleared his schedule for today. This year, April brings Zitao, just finished his drama filming and looking for an excuse to blow some cash.
Zitao called him a few days ago, with barely a hello: "Hey. How long has it been since you've stepped foot in Myeongdong?"
Sehun played ignorant. "Excuse me, who is this?"
"Your goal and aspiration in life."
"Liar. Kris hyung doesn't have my number."
Zitao laughed, because he couldn't keep up deadpanning like Sehun could. "He does so. I put it on his phone myself. He's got all of ours."
Sehun knew that. It was an unspoken truth of their former, cold-faced leader: only Tao and Yixing hyung were allowed to call out how sentimental he actually was. "Why are you calling?" Sehun asked, brushing a finger across his chin. "Did Lu Han get kidnapped?"
"No," Zitao said, his scoff of a laugh ringing out again. "I'm done filming this drama and I've got a few days of nothing. I want to go shopping."
"So go shopping then."
"In Korea. Seoul."
"Seoul would be happy to take your money."
"Ass," said Zitao. "With you, I mean. Are you free?"
Sehun wasn't, but he knew he could make it so he was. He had been working pretty regularly for three weeks. It wasn't a bad time to take a small break. "Yeah, I am. Come on over. I'll air out the futon."
When Zitao hung up, Sehun had stared at the call display on his phone for a little bit, memorizing the 5:16 time stamp that signalled the length of their call. That had been the most he'd talked to Zitao in over four months. Five minutes of long-distance after four months of mutual silence, and in another three days Zitao would be a real living person in Sehun's condo, taking up space and hot water and food and attention, and it'd be as if the past thirteen months of half-hearted phone and email tag had never happened; as if Zitao had really all along meant to keep his promise when he'd said to Sehun during a cool evening in the March of last year, "Don't worry. I'll come back soon."
---
There's a girl standing by the drinking fountain-young, early twenties-who is staring at him. Sehun pushes his sunglasses farther up his nose and flicks out his phone again, doing his best to seem busy. Out of the corner of his eye, Sehun sees the girl startle and take out her phone too, holding it out in a very indicative manner. Sehun counts: one, two-on three, he whips his head around to look directly at her phone, right when he thinks he can hear a very familiar click of the camera app. The girl gives a little jump, flicks up her wide-eyed gaze to meet his dark-tinted ones, then scurries away with her hand held over her mouth.
Sehun watches her go. He was wrong: she's wearing a schoolbag; she might not even be eighteen yet. He wonders how she recognized him. From his commercials? Photoshoots? Dramas? Or his sub-unit slash reformed group slash new group, X-K? But not EXO, definitely. She couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen when they broke up.
His phone buzzes in his hand. There's a new message, from Jongin.
here yet?
Sehun types back, no. calm your tits
Jongin replies with an unamused face. So stupid. Twenty-seven years old and still using ugly emoticons.
Across the white-tiled floors, the frosted-glass exit from the arrivals gate slides open, and a mishmash of people stream through, lugging tiny suitcases and tiny children behind them. They're met by a small crowd of greeters, none of them fans, thank god; there's a few screams of happy reacquainting, but it's a pretty low-key affair. Sehun is relieved Zitao managed to keep his flight a secret. It's Tuesday morning and Sehun's only on his second Americano. He's not up to handling anything louder than a casual holler right now.
His phone buzzes again. It's Baekhyun.
has the beef arrived yet kk
Sehun writes, any second now. im at the gate. his flight got in fifteen minutes ago
remind him he still owes me a new pair of pants
Sehun holds back a frown. He'd forgotten about that night. didn't we make a pact not to talk about that...
IDIOT chanyeol and i didn't!!! why would we~ we have the footage kukuku~
God. Sehun shoves his phone back in his pocket, just in time to catch Zitao stepping out of the doors, duffle hanging over one shoulder and a phone held to his ear.
He's dyed his hair red again. He seems a little darker too, and he's wearing a tidy blazer, which isn't one of his usual fashion choices, but other than that, he looks remarkably identical to the skinny jean, studded-bracelet, scarf-wrapped Zitao that had left Korea over a year ago, having finally completed his ten-year SM contract. Zitao said it'd felt strange-satisfying but sad, and not exactly freeing in a good way. Like he'd been in a safe yard all his life and now the fence was torn down, and he could go anywhere. In the wee hours before his flight back to China, under the muffled darkness of Sehun's blankets, Zitao had in a shaking voice said that he was scared.
Sehun remembers telling him that he'd be fine. "You're Huang Zitao. Nothing in the world is impossible for you."
He remembers the curling smile that had flickered across Zitao's face at that, and the quick, hard squeeze of Zitao's fingers around Sehun's wrist lying between them, too dim to see.
And maybe it'd helped, because when Sehun saw Zitao off the following day, trying to keep a straight face as Zitao walked backwards towards the security checkpoint, waving both hands and blowing kisses, it wasn't Sehun's imagination that Zitao's steps were a little lighter, a little bouncier, than Sehun could recall them being for a long, long time. Kyungsoo, standing at Sehun's side, had noticed it too.
"He looks happy," Kyungsoo said, smiling.
"Yeah," Sehun agreed, but he couldn't bring himself to smile as well. He ignored all the camera phones being held up in his direction and all the fangirls wiping their soggy faces as he watched Zitao being scanned through safely, Zitao picking up his suitcase and pulling up its handle, Zitao discreetly swiping at his eyes, squaring his shoulders, then practically skipping away towards the international gates and out of Sehun's sight-that curling grin bright on his face as he looked forward to home, which after all had never been Korea.
And here is that grin again now, slamming in like a wave of deja vu, as Zitao catches Sehun's eyes and lifts a hand, hurrying over. He clicks off his phone.
Sehun straightens his back, clears his throat. Walks closer and is ready with his arms open with Zitao barrels in for a hug.
"Sehunnie," Zitao says delightedly, clapping a hand to the back of Sehun's flushed neck. His name is a hot puff of air in Sehun's ear.
"Hyung," Sehun says demurely, and Zitao laughs in shock. He punches Sehun in the shoulder.
"Don't do that coy thing," says Zitao. "I'm already disappointed enough that there aren't any fans here to greet me."
His accent has deteriorated more than Sehun had thought it would. But his voice sounds the same: soft and eager and painfully genuine. It's sentimental, but no matter how old they grow, Sehun hopes Zitao will always sound like this, like he's constantly discovering new wonders of the world and is sure that they're his to conquer.
"There actually were quite a few," says Sehun. "But I scared them all away."
"How brave, you showed them your no-makeup face?"
"Showed them that picture of you dancing to Gee in Baekhyun's pants."
Zitao makes an abrupt sound, blinking fast. "What? Oh. When we drank all that-ah, I thought we promised we'd never mention that night again?"
"Too much alcohol was consumed. Lies were made."
"Ah, but-!"
Sehun's phone buzzes. He fishes it out and reads the text. "It's Baekhyun hyung. He says he'll be late for lunch."
"Oh," says Tao. "Okay. Ask him if he wants us to order for him."
"Ask him yourself," Sehun says, pressing speed dial 3 and holding the phone up to Tao's ear.
---
"Are you going to finish that?" Zitao asks.
Sehun sighs. "Here, take it," he says, pushing over his nearly empty noodle bowl.
It's terrible sharing food with Zitao. They've been eating together since Sehun was fifteen, sixteen, and yet it's the same thing every time: Zitao orders enough food to fill up the stomachs of two men, then still steals bits and pieces off other people's unattended plates. Sehun's own insatiable teenage boy appetite deserted him when he was twenty-two, but somehow Zitao's has lasted him throughout his twenties and is apparently in no hurry to leave. In his formative years, the hyungs in M had always spoiled Tao and let him have the most food, so now Zitao is just used to it-if the food is not being eaten, then it's up for grabs. It's almost disgustingly familiar, emphasis on the disgusting.
In front of Zitao, Baekhyun is unabashedly watching as if Tao's a variety show act. "This is actually amazing," he says. "You still have that ridiculous metabolism, huh?"
"I work out a lot," protests Zitao, half a cheek stuffed with ramyun.
"Oh yeah?" Baekhyun says, eyebrows rising. "Wait, I thought you gave up wushu."
"I did," says Zitao, sucking in a mouthful of soup. "I tried again a year after my tear like the doctor said, but it nearly ripped the, uh, ligu-ligament again, so I was told to stop." He shrugs, eyelids lowering, and puts down his bowl. "But I still exercise, like... normal style."
"The perils of growing older, huh," says Baekhyun, leaning back in his seat. "Speaking of old, have you talked to Grandpa Junmyeon yet?"
Zitao brightens. "I emailed him two days ago," he says. "He says he'll let me know if he can manage to get a leave for an afternoon or something."
"Chanyeol says he's sorry he can't make it, by the way," adds Baekhyun, even though he's said this already. "But since he just joined in last month, it'd look bad on him to skive off so suddenly, you know?"
"Yeah. It's okay. Thanks hyung."
"And Jongin-" Baekhyun looks at Sehun.
"Dinner tomorrow," says Sehun. "You're welcome to join."
Baekhyun pushes out his lips in thought. "I'm filming until nine tomorrow. I can text you guys afterwards and meet up with you, but I'll probably eat dinner at the studio. We can grab a drink though."
"Actually we're going back to Jongin's place after," says Tao, chewing on the end of his chopsticks. "We're Skyping Kyungsoo in Thailand. You should drop by!"
Baekhyun laughs. "Not sure I've been forgiven by Mother Hen yet, after that last get-together we had."
"The one that we can't talk about?" Tao asks, bewildered.
"No! Oh god. No, another one. This was for Minseok hyung's birthday last month. We had an earlier celebration so we could send off Chanyeol with a good party, and Jongdae bought a shitload of alcohol." He manages to put on an ashamed face for all of two seconds. "We miiiight have gotten a bit carried away. Hah."
"Shit, I remember that," says Zitao abruptly. "Lu Han was showing me the photos that Minseokie sent. The ones with Kyungsoo hyung in a feather boa? And the lipstick paint?"
Sehun covers his face in his hands. "Minseok hyung took photos? Fuck, I didn't even know."
"That guy is really good at faking drunk when he's completely sober," says Tao with huge eyes. "It's his best skill. Even better than his singing, his dancing, MCing, anything."
"Ah! See, I'm pretty sure I knew that," Baekhyun says, slapping his palm to the table. "But it was never confirmed because I would argue with Chanyeol about it and he'd never believe me! Finally I have proof! God, we've know each other for how long and we're still finding out shit about one another?"
"Sad, for sure," says Tao, laughing.
"How are they in China?" Sehun thinks to ask. "Jongdae hyung and Minseok hyung."
"Good," says Tao. "Their CD's selling pretty well. They went on this trivia show last week. They totally bombed it and Jongdae got-" he pauses, "what's that word, when they pour, like... snot. Over you. A lot of green snot?"
"What? Green snot?" says Sehun.
"You mean slime?" suggests Baekhyun.
Zitao points. "Yes! Slime! He got slimed."
"Oh my god, yes," Baekhyun says, cracking up. "You've got to send me the link to that video."
"Sure," says Zitao. "I'll show you later," he offers to Sehun, bumping his knee into Sehun's under the table, as if by accident. "After shopping."
"Don't forget," says Sehun, bumping back.
---
They attract attention in the shopping district, because for one, Sehun's not exactly inconspicuous, with his ginger-orange hair and his face unguarded, and two, despite Zitao's long absence from anything Korean for over a year, he amassed a large group of dedicated fans during his days as EXO member and beyond-fans who first fell for his serial killer face and kung fu skills, but then were roped in forevermore because of his petal-soft heart and shameless aegyo and muddled Korean and sex appeal and-well, all parts of Tao, really.
The news spreads fast. The two of them spend maybe three and half hours shopping, and by the time they step out of the last shop on Zitao's wishlist for today, there is a small crowd of people, mostly women, waiting for them on the street.
"Huang Zitao!" one of the women cries, waving madly at him even though they're only a few feet apart. "Welcome home!"
Sehun feels his eyebrow twitch at that because it's weird to hear people referring to Korea as Tao's home, but Zitao only smiles kindly and bows, shopping bags hitting his thighs as he pulls his arms to his sides.
"Thank you," he says. "I'm glad to be back."
---
Zitao was the last Chinese EXO member to return to his birth land. All four of them had signed contracts with SM upon the final announcement of SM's new 2012 boy group, but the others had been a little more careful with reading over the clauses and stipulations. Kris had agreed to five years, with an option of adding three more after negotiation; Lu Han and Yixing had both agreed to seven years flat. Zitao, though, new in the game and still so eager to prove himself in this foreign country, had agreed to eight years of being under the company, with the option of two more. EXO had informally stopped promoting by their fifth year, but didn't officially disband until their sixth. Sehun never really confirmed if Kris resented the company for that, but at the time he thought yes, and in retrospect he's certain of it. With Lu Han and Yixing immediately getting snatched up by huge Chinese entertainment companies the day their SM contracts expired, the two of them only had to tolerate a year of being shuttled awkwardly around under management that didn't know at all how to deal with them after the tether of EXO-M was cut. Meanwhile Kris and Tao stayed company-bound for longer, jetting back and forth between Korea and China even though their popularity in Korea was diminishing and their irregular presence in China frustrated their Chinese fans. But Kris and Tao were lucky, at least, in that they got to see Lu Han and Yixing more often than they, the Korean members, did.
The LayHan goodbye party was filled with more tears than any of them were willing to admit in broad daylight (except for Tao, probably), but it wasn't as if any of them had expected any differently. The idol industry is a hard game, and is not meant to last for life. After Sehun's own ten-year contract expires, after he completes his years in the army, he plans to leave SME too, find an agency that will let him take more artistic endeavours. He still wants to publish a poetry book-but under a pseudonym, so his success will be judged on talent alone, not on the size of his fanbase.
Sehun is glad Lu Han's doing well in China. He's much better at keeping in contact than the other Chinese members, but not so much recently because he's been so busy. Sehun misses him often, enough to actually cause a physical pang inside his chest, and occasionally enough to find himself turning to his right side and expecting Lu Han's laughing face turned up to meet his. Sometimes it feels like those days were such a long time ago, and sometimes it feels like they were just last week, passing by in a blur.
"I meant to say it this morning, but-can't believe that orchid's still alive," says Zitao, dumping his shopping bags by front hall. He shuffles on socked feet towards Sehun's coffee table, which is empty save for the potted white orchid displayed in the centre. Zitao bends down and prods a few of its petals. "You're taking good care of it."
"Of course," sniffs Sehun, stuffing Zitao's spring coat in his closet by the door before he takes off his own. "Yixing hyung gave it to me. I'm making sure it suffers a long and happy life."
"You're so kind," Tao teases. "You don't have to, you know. He's probably long forgotten that he even gave it to you as a goodbye present."
"But I like it," says Sehun. It reminds him of EXO's first music video.
"Did you know that for his last birthday a really old noona fan gave Duizhang a fifty-year old bonsai tree? It was to wish him longevity like the tree. Yixing checked up the price later, and apparently it was worth like over a thousand RMB."
"Fuck. Where is it now?"
"Lu Han has it," says Zitao. "Duizhang tried to take care of it for a few months but was doing a really crappy job, so Lu Han took it out of pity. He calls it Minseok and talks to it when he's bored. In Korean."
"You're joking."
"Nope. He's not even embarrassed."
"He must really want to keep up his Korean skills."
"Or he's just fucking weird," says Zitao. He flops face-down on Sehun's couch, his body taking up the entire horizontal space. He waves a flippant hand. "Maknae, maknae. Massage, please."
Sehun licks his lips and goes over. He levers one leg over Zitao's body and sits himself astride the back of Tao's thighs. They're tough, muscley-so Zitao wasn't lying, he really has been keeping up with exercising. Even back in the day, they all kept in great shape because their jobs demanded it, but it was still always a surprise to put a hand on Zitao's arm or leg and realize how firm it was, and how much strength Zitao kept docile under his shy smile and hipster clothes.
Zitao makes a contented sound as Sehun digs his fingers into his back without mercy. His face is resting on his folded arms so Sehun can't see his expression, but Sehun can imagine. It'll be the same face Tao made when Sehun went down on him for the first time. The same face Sehun saw hooked over Kris' broad shoulder when Sehun stumbled upon Kris and Tao tucked beside the kitchen fridge, rutting in their clothes, in the messy, grimy, after-midnight hours of the LayHan send-off extravaganza.
The party had been at Kris' apartment; later Zitao and Kris rejoined the party, each in a fresh pair of pants. Everyone was too drunk to notice, except Sehun (and now, apparently, maybe Minseok).
They've known each other for how long and still have shit to find out about one another-Sehun doesn't know and has never asked-
Kris' contract, after the addition of three years, ended six months after Tao's because of the time-off-that-wasn't-time-off days Kris took throughout his years in EXO. It was an open secret that Kris was having family trouble that couldn't be avoided; but contract rules didn't account for needs like seeing family or taking regular work breaks or being sympathetic. It was unavoidable that Kris would have to stay among his ex-EXO members as they formed new Korean subunits, leaving him as leader of nothing. And Kris said he was fine, he didn't complain other than to draw within himself for indiscriminate periods of time, but any idiot who'd trained with that man for over a year (as they all had) could tell that it upset him. Even Zitao was helpless against Kris' frustration. But this was the game they'd all signed up for, and the cards they'd been dealt; Kris would have to endure, and that was all. This was around the time when Sehun first kissed Zitao on the mouth, and Zitao kissed back.
And Sehun, he doesn't know and has never asked: when Zitao renewed his contract to tack on the extra two years, did he do it for Kris? Or did he do it for Sehun? Or maybe both. Maybe neither. Does it matter? Tao stayed. He stayed, but then he left, just like the others.
"Ow," murmurs Zitao, even though he sounds nearly asleep. "That hurts."
"Sorry," mutters Sehun, lessening the pressure on Zitao's back.
"S'ok," Zitao slurs. "You're good. Thanks for the massage. Thanks for taking me shopping. Thanks for letting me stay here. Thanks for-"
"I get the point," Sehun says, cutting Tao off. He gentles his tone and lets one of his hands stroke down Tao's neck, then lingers a bit to feel Zitao's shiver. "You're welcome."
---
The nature of the job they'd signed away a huge chunk of their lives for is that they didn't really have time for relationships. One-night stands were fine and good if no one got caught, but anything long-term-an idol would have better chances trying to break through the American music market.
The only people they saw constantly were each other. Day in, day out, through good weather and bad, injuries and surgeries, rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal, in the early morning with puffy eyes and swollen faces, in the late night drenched in sweat and covered in glitter, across the green room while they waited for their group's name to be called, behind the stage while thousands of fans chanted for them, growing up and learning about themselves and life and show business-
Of course Sehun loves Tao. That's a given. But he might be more than a little in love with Tao too. And even though it feels a lot less painful these days than it has in the past, maybe it's like Zitao's logic-defying appetite: it's outlasted a whole lot of other things that should themselves have lasted longer. And maybe it's like the life that they've chosen, the one that's defined the separating branches of their future: some things cannot be changed, only accepted, until they run their course.
It's 4:01 in the morning when Sehun blindly lets himself into Zitao's borrowed futon, bracketing the curve of Zitao's body like a fitted puzzle piece, and pushes one hand across Zitao's waist to settle in the middle of Zitao's bare chest.
Zitao shifts against him, whispering the start of a word Sehun can't understand, and settles again, heartbeat strong and steady under Sehun's palm. Sehun pushes his face into Zitao's red hair and takes a whiff; it smells like Sehun's shampoo.
"I missed you," Sehun mouths silently into the soft skin of Zitao's nape.
A hand slides across Sehun's arm and layers on top of Sehun's hand, fingers suddenly gripping tight around his wrist. A promise in the dark.
"Sehun," Zitao says, twisting around to meet Sehun's lips. He tastes like a year hasn't passed between them, the taste of Zitao in Korea.
Sehun closes his eyes and remembers that everything has to end sometime.
this fandom need disbanded fic tbh.
Details: Sehun/Tao, Kris/Tao; PG-13; 4,264 words (it really got away from me ;_;).
Note: This version is edited/fixed a bit from the original post on the meme, but there's no huge changes.
Sehun wakes up naturally at 6:24, six minutes before his alarm is set to ring. He breathes in deeply and stretches, reminding himself what day it is. He'd left the curtains open last night and the morning light is soft on his window pane; the sky is blue with a blush of pink dawn. He can hear a few birds chirping and the distant rumble of early commuter traffic.
Sehun switches off his alarm and pushes himself out of bed. He doesn't want to be late to meet the arriving flight. It's been so long since Zitao's been back to Korea.
---
Mid-April is usually a busy time of year for Sehun. The settling in of spring ushers in a fresh season of outdoor filming: music shows, dramas, commercials-they all want to take advantage of the new green leaves on trees and the seas of blooming flowers, making their shots beautiful and stories idealistic. This time last year Sehun had done a fashion shoot, hosted one show and participated as a team member in another, and then did an outdoor interview all before seven pm. Every second of sunshine had been accounted for, and his drying sweat reeked of sunscreen by the time he'd made his way home for dinner. It could have just as easily happened this year too, except Sehun had deliberately cleared his schedule for today. This year, April brings Zitao, just finished his drama filming and looking for an excuse to blow some cash.
Zitao called him a few days ago, with barely a hello: "Hey. How long has it been since you've stepped foot in Myeongdong?"
Sehun played ignorant. "Excuse me, who is this?"
"Your goal and aspiration in life."
"Liar. Kris hyung doesn't have my number."
Zitao laughed, because he couldn't keep up deadpanning like Sehun could. "He does so. I put it on his phone myself. He's got all of ours."
Sehun knew that. It was an unspoken truth of their former, cold-faced leader: only Tao and Yixing hyung were allowed to call out how sentimental he actually was. "Why are you calling?" Sehun asked, brushing a finger across his chin. "Did Lu Han get kidnapped?"
"No," Zitao said, his scoff of a laugh ringing out again. "I'm done filming this drama and I've got a few days of nothing. I want to go shopping."
"So go shopping then."
"In Korea. Seoul."
"Seoul would be happy to take your money."
"Ass," said Zitao. "With you, I mean. Are you free?"
Sehun wasn't, but he knew he could make it so he was. He had been working pretty regularly for three weeks. It wasn't a bad time to take a small break. "Yeah, I am. Come on over. I'll air out the futon."
When Zitao hung up, Sehun had stared at the call display on his phone for a little bit, memorizing the 5:16 time stamp that signalled the length of their call. That had been the most he'd talked to Zitao in over four months. Five minutes of long-distance after four months of mutual silence, and in another three days Zitao would be a real living person in Sehun's condo, taking up space and hot water and food and attention, and it'd be as if the past thirteen months of half-hearted phone and email tag had never happened; as if Zitao had really all along meant to keep his promise when he'd said to Sehun during a cool evening in the March of last year, "Don't worry. I'll come back soon."
---
There's a girl standing by the drinking fountain-young, early twenties-who is staring at him. Sehun pushes his sunglasses farther up his nose and flicks out his phone again, doing his best to seem busy. Out of the corner of his eye, Sehun sees the girl startle and take out her phone too, holding it out in a very indicative manner. Sehun counts: one, two-on three, he whips his head around to look directly at her phone, right when he thinks he can hear a very familiar click of the camera app. The girl gives a little jump, flicks up her wide-eyed gaze to meet his dark-tinted ones, then scurries away with her hand held over her mouth.
Sehun watches her go. He was wrong: she's wearing a schoolbag; she might not even be eighteen yet. He wonders how she recognized him. From his commercials? Photoshoots? Dramas? Or his sub-unit slash reformed group slash new group, X-K? But not EXO, definitely. She couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen when they broke up.
His phone buzzes in his hand. There's a new message, from Jongin.
here yet?
Sehun types back, no. calm your tits
Jongin replies with an unamused face. So stupid. Twenty-seven years old and still using ugly emoticons.
Across the white-tiled floors, the frosted-glass exit from the arrivals gate slides open, and a mishmash of people stream through, lugging tiny suitcases and tiny children behind them. They're met by a small crowd of greeters, none of them fans, thank god; there's a few screams of happy reacquainting, but it's a pretty low-key affair. Sehun is relieved Zitao managed to keep his flight a secret. It's Tuesday morning and Sehun's only on his second Americano. He's not up to handling anything louder than a casual holler right now.
His phone buzzes again. It's Baekhyun.
has the beef arrived yet kk
Sehun writes, any second now. im at the gate. his flight got in fifteen minutes ago
remind him he still owes me a new pair of pants
Sehun holds back a frown. He'd forgotten about that night. didn't we make a pact not to talk about that...
IDIOT chanyeol and i didn't!!! why would we~ we have the footage kukuku~
God. Sehun shoves his phone back in his pocket, just in time to catch Zitao stepping out of the doors, duffle hanging over one shoulder and a phone held to his ear.
He's dyed his hair red again. He seems a little darker too, and he's wearing a tidy blazer, which isn't one of his usual fashion choices, but other than that, he looks remarkably identical to the skinny jean, studded-bracelet, scarf-wrapped Zitao that had left Korea over a year ago, having finally completed his ten-year SM contract. Zitao said it'd felt strange-satisfying but sad, and not exactly freeing in a good way. Like he'd been in a safe yard all his life and now the fence was torn down, and he could go anywhere. In the wee hours before his flight back to China, under the muffled darkness of Sehun's blankets, Zitao had in a shaking voice said that he was scared.
Sehun remembers telling him that he'd be fine. "You're Huang Zitao. Nothing in the world is impossible for you."
He remembers the curling smile that had flickered across Zitao's face at that, and the quick, hard squeeze of Zitao's fingers around Sehun's wrist lying between them, too dim to see.
And maybe it'd helped, because when Sehun saw Zitao off the following day, trying to keep a straight face as Zitao walked backwards towards the security checkpoint, waving both hands and blowing kisses, it wasn't Sehun's imagination that Zitao's steps were a little lighter, a little bouncier, than Sehun could recall them being for a long, long time. Kyungsoo, standing at Sehun's side, had noticed it too.
"He looks happy," Kyungsoo said, smiling.
"Yeah," Sehun agreed, but he couldn't bring himself to smile as well. He ignored all the camera phones being held up in his direction and all the fangirls wiping their soggy faces as he watched Zitao being scanned through safely, Zitao picking up his suitcase and pulling up its handle, Zitao discreetly swiping at his eyes, squaring his shoulders, then practically skipping away towards the international gates and out of Sehun's sight-that curling grin bright on his face as he looked forward to home, which after all had never been Korea.
And here is that grin again now, slamming in like a wave of deja vu, as Zitao catches Sehun's eyes and lifts a hand, hurrying over. He clicks off his phone.
Sehun straightens his back, clears his throat. Walks closer and is ready with his arms open with Zitao barrels in for a hug.
"Sehunnie," Zitao says delightedly, clapping a hand to the back of Sehun's flushed neck. His name is a hot puff of air in Sehun's ear.
"Hyung," Sehun says demurely, and Zitao laughs in shock. He punches Sehun in the shoulder.
"Don't do that coy thing," says Zitao. "I'm already disappointed enough that there aren't any fans here to greet me."
His accent has deteriorated more than Sehun had thought it would. But his voice sounds the same: soft and eager and painfully genuine. It's sentimental, but no matter how old they grow, Sehun hopes Zitao will always sound like this, like he's constantly discovering new wonders of the world and is sure that they're his to conquer.
"There actually were quite a few," says Sehun. "But I scared them all away."
"How brave, you showed them your no-makeup face?"
"Showed them that picture of you dancing to Gee in Baekhyun's pants."
Zitao makes an abrupt sound, blinking fast. "What? Oh. When we drank all that-ah, I thought we promised we'd never mention that night again?"
"Too much alcohol was consumed. Lies were made."
"Ah, but-!"
Sehun's phone buzzes. He fishes it out and reads the text. "It's Baekhyun hyung. He says he'll be late for lunch."
"Oh," says Tao. "Okay. Ask him if he wants us to order for him."
"Ask him yourself," Sehun says, pressing speed dial 3 and holding the phone up to Tao's ear.
---
"Are you going to finish that?" Zitao asks.
Sehun sighs. "Here, take it," he says, pushing over his nearly empty noodle bowl.
It's terrible sharing food with Zitao. They've been eating together since Sehun was fifteen, sixteen, and yet it's the same thing every time: Zitao orders enough food to fill up the stomachs of two men, then still steals bits and pieces off other people's unattended plates. Sehun's own insatiable teenage boy appetite deserted him when he was twenty-two, but somehow Zitao's has lasted him throughout his twenties and is apparently in no hurry to leave. In his formative years, the hyungs in M had always spoiled Tao and let him have the most food, so now Zitao is just used to it-if the food is not being eaten, then it's up for grabs. It's almost disgustingly familiar, emphasis on the disgusting.
In front of Zitao, Baekhyun is unabashedly watching as if Tao's a variety show act. "This is actually amazing," he says. "You still have that ridiculous metabolism, huh?"
"I work out a lot," protests Zitao, half a cheek stuffed with ramyun.
"Oh yeah?" Baekhyun says, eyebrows rising. "Wait, I thought you gave up wushu."
"I did," says Zitao, sucking in a mouthful of soup. "I tried again a year after my tear like the doctor said, but it nearly ripped the, uh, ligu-ligament again, so I was told to stop." He shrugs, eyelids lowering, and puts down his bowl. "But I still exercise, like... normal style."
"The perils of growing older, huh," says Baekhyun, leaning back in his seat. "Speaking of old, have you talked to Grandpa Junmyeon yet?"
Zitao brightens. "I emailed him two days ago," he says. "He says he'll let me know if he can manage to get a leave for an afternoon or something."
"Chanyeol says he's sorry he can't make it, by the way," adds Baekhyun, even though he's said this already. "But since he just joined in last month, it'd look bad on him to skive off so suddenly, you know?"
"Yeah. It's okay. Thanks hyung."
"And Jongin-" Baekhyun looks at Sehun.
"Dinner tomorrow," says Sehun. "You're welcome to join."
Baekhyun pushes out his lips in thought. "I'm filming until nine tomorrow. I can text you guys afterwards and meet up with you, but I'll probably eat dinner at the studio. We can grab a drink though."
"Actually we're going back to Jongin's place after," says Tao, chewing on the end of his chopsticks. "We're Skyping Kyungsoo in Thailand. You should drop by!"
Baekhyun laughs. "Not sure I've been forgiven by Mother Hen yet, after that last get-together we had."
"The one that we can't talk about?" Tao asks, bewildered.
"No! Oh god. No, another one. This was for Minseok hyung's birthday last month. We had an earlier celebration so we could send off Chanyeol with a good party, and Jongdae bought a shitload of alcohol." He manages to put on an ashamed face for all of two seconds. "We miiiight have gotten a bit carried away. Hah."
"Shit, I remember that," says Zitao abruptly. "Lu Han was showing me the photos that Minseokie sent. The ones with Kyungsoo hyung in a feather boa? And the lipstick paint?"
Sehun covers his face in his hands. "Minseok hyung took photos? Fuck, I didn't even know."
"That guy is really good at faking drunk when he's completely sober," says Tao with huge eyes. "It's his best skill. Even better than his singing, his dancing, MCing, anything."
"Ah! See, I'm pretty sure I knew that," Baekhyun says, slapping his palm to the table. "But it was never confirmed because I would argue with Chanyeol about it and he'd never believe me! Finally I have proof! God, we've know each other for how long and we're still finding out shit about one another?"
"Sad, for sure," says Tao, laughing.
"How are they in China?" Sehun thinks to ask. "Jongdae hyung and Minseok hyung."
"Good," says Tao. "Their CD's selling pretty well. They went on this trivia show last week. They totally bombed it and Jongdae got-" he pauses, "what's that word, when they pour, like... snot. Over you. A lot of green snot?"
"What? Green snot?" says Sehun.
"You mean slime?" suggests Baekhyun.
Zitao points. "Yes! Slime! He got slimed."
"Oh my god, yes," Baekhyun says, cracking up. "You've got to send me the link to that video."
"Sure," says Zitao. "I'll show you later," he offers to Sehun, bumping his knee into Sehun's under the table, as if by accident. "After shopping."
"Don't forget," says Sehun, bumping back.
---
They attract attention in the shopping district, because for one, Sehun's not exactly inconspicuous, with his ginger-orange hair and his face unguarded, and two, despite Zitao's long absence from anything Korean for over a year, he amassed a large group of dedicated fans during his days as EXO member and beyond-fans who first fell for his serial killer face and kung fu skills, but then were roped in forevermore because of his petal-soft heart and shameless aegyo and muddled Korean and sex appeal and-well, all parts of Tao, really.
The news spreads fast. The two of them spend maybe three and half hours shopping, and by the time they step out of the last shop on Zitao's wishlist for today, there is a small crowd of people, mostly women, waiting for them on the street.
"Huang Zitao!" one of the women cries, waving madly at him even though they're only a few feet apart. "Welcome home!"
Sehun feels his eyebrow twitch at that because it's weird to hear people referring to Korea as Tao's home, but Zitao only smiles kindly and bows, shopping bags hitting his thighs as he pulls his arms to his sides.
"Thank you," he says. "I'm glad to be back."
---
Zitao was the last Chinese EXO member to return to his birth land. All four of them had signed contracts with SM upon the final announcement of SM's new 2012 boy group, but the others had been a little more careful with reading over the clauses and stipulations. Kris had agreed to five years, with an option of adding three more after negotiation; Lu Han and Yixing had both agreed to seven years flat. Zitao, though, new in the game and still so eager to prove himself in this foreign country, had agreed to eight years of being under the company, with the option of two more. EXO had informally stopped promoting by their fifth year, but didn't officially disband until their sixth. Sehun never really confirmed if Kris resented the company for that, but at the time he thought yes, and in retrospect he's certain of it. With Lu Han and Yixing immediately getting snatched up by huge Chinese entertainment companies the day their SM contracts expired, the two of them only had to tolerate a year of being shuttled awkwardly around under management that didn't know at all how to deal with them after the tether of EXO-M was cut. Meanwhile Kris and Tao stayed company-bound for longer, jetting back and forth between Korea and China even though their popularity in Korea was diminishing and their irregular presence in China frustrated their Chinese fans. But Kris and Tao were lucky, at least, in that they got to see Lu Han and Yixing more often than they, the Korean members, did.
The LayHan goodbye party was filled with more tears than any of them were willing to admit in broad daylight (except for Tao, probably), but it wasn't as if any of them had expected any differently. The idol industry is a hard game, and is not meant to last for life. After Sehun's own ten-year contract expires, after he completes his years in the army, he plans to leave SME too, find an agency that will let him take more artistic endeavours. He still wants to publish a poetry book-but under a pseudonym, so his success will be judged on talent alone, not on the size of his fanbase.
Sehun is glad Lu Han's doing well in China. He's much better at keeping in contact than the other Chinese members, but not so much recently because he's been so busy. Sehun misses him often, enough to actually cause a physical pang inside his chest, and occasionally enough to find himself turning to his right side and expecting Lu Han's laughing face turned up to meet his. Sometimes it feels like those days were such a long time ago, and sometimes it feels like they were just last week, passing by in a blur.
"I meant to say it this morning, but-can't believe that orchid's still alive," says Zitao, dumping his shopping bags by front hall. He shuffles on socked feet towards Sehun's coffee table, which is empty save for the potted white orchid displayed in the centre. Zitao bends down and prods a few of its petals. "You're taking good care of it."
"Of course," sniffs Sehun, stuffing Zitao's spring coat in his closet by the door before he takes off his own. "Yixing hyung gave it to me. I'm making sure it suffers a long and happy life."
"You're so kind," Tao teases. "You don't have to, you know. He's probably long forgotten that he even gave it to you as a goodbye present."
"But I like it," says Sehun. It reminds him of EXO's first music video.
"Did you know that for his last birthday a really old noona fan gave Duizhang a fifty-year old bonsai tree? It was to wish him longevity like the tree. Yixing checked up the price later, and apparently it was worth like over a thousand RMB."
"Fuck. Where is it now?"
"Lu Han has it," says Zitao. "Duizhang tried to take care of it for a few months but was doing a really crappy job, so Lu Han took it out of pity. He calls it Minseok and talks to it when he's bored. In Korean."
"You're joking."
"Nope. He's not even embarrassed."
"He must really want to keep up his Korean skills."
"Or he's just fucking weird," says Zitao. He flops face-down on Sehun's couch, his body taking up the entire horizontal space. He waves a flippant hand. "Maknae, maknae. Massage, please."
Sehun licks his lips and goes over. He levers one leg over Zitao's body and sits himself astride the back of Tao's thighs. They're tough, muscley-so Zitao wasn't lying, he really has been keeping up with exercising. Even back in the day, they all kept in great shape because their jobs demanded it, but it was still always a surprise to put a hand on Zitao's arm or leg and realize how firm it was, and how much strength Zitao kept docile under his shy smile and hipster clothes.
Zitao makes a contented sound as Sehun digs his fingers into his back without mercy. His face is resting on his folded arms so Sehun can't see his expression, but Sehun can imagine. It'll be the same face Tao made when Sehun went down on him for the first time. The same face Sehun saw hooked over Kris' broad shoulder when Sehun stumbled upon Kris and Tao tucked beside the kitchen fridge, rutting in their clothes, in the messy, grimy, after-midnight hours of the LayHan send-off extravaganza.
The party had been at Kris' apartment; later Zitao and Kris rejoined the party, each in a fresh pair of pants. Everyone was too drunk to notice, except Sehun (and now, apparently, maybe Minseok).
They've known each other for how long and still have shit to find out about one another-Sehun doesn't know and has never asked-
Kris' contract, after the addition of three years, ended six months after Tao's because of the time-off-that-wasn't-time-off days Kris took throughout his years in EXO. It was an open secret that Kris was having family trouble that couldn't be avoided; but contract rules didn't account for needs like seeing family or taking regular work breaks or being sympathetic. It was unavoidable that Kris would have to stay among his ex-EXO members as they formed new Korean subunits, leaving him as leader of nothing. And Kris said he was fine, he didn't complain other than to draw within himself for indiscriminate periods of time, but any idiot who'd trained with that man for over a year (as they all had) could tell that it upset him. Even Zitao was helpless against Kris' frustration. But this was the game they'd all signed up for, and the cards they'd been dealt; Kris would have to endure, and that was all. This was around the time when Sehun first kissed Zitao on the mouth, and Zitao kissed back.
And Sehun, he doesn't know and has never asked: when Zitao renewed his contract to tack on the extra two years, did he do it for Kris? Or did he do it for Sehun? Or maybe both. Maybe neither. Does it matter? Tao stayed. He stayed, but then he left, just like the others.
"Ow," murmurs Zitao, even though he sounds nearly asleep. "That hurts."
"Sorry," mutters Sehun, lessening the pressure on Zitao's back.
"S'ok," Zitao slurs. "You're good. Thanks for the massage. Thanks for taking me shopping. Thanks for letting me stay here. Thanks for-"
"I get the point," Sehun says, cutting Tao off. He gentles his tone and lets one of his hands stroke down Tao's neck, then lingers a bit to feel Zitao's shiver. "You're welcome."
---
The nature of the job they'd signed away a huge chunk of their lives for is that they didn't really have time for relationships. One-night stands were fine and good if no one got caught, but anything long-term-an idol would have better chances trying to break through the American music market.
The only people they saw constantly were each other. Day in, day out, through good weather and bad, injuries and surgeries, rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal, in the early morning with puffy eyes and swollen faces, in the late night drenched in sweat and covered in glitter, across the green room while they waited for their group's name to be called, behind the stage while thousands of fans chanted for them, growing up and learning about themselves and life and show business-
Of course Sehun loves Tao. That's a given. But he might be more than a little in love with Tao too. And even though it feels a lot less painful these days than it has in the past, maybe it's like Zitao's logic-defying appetite: it's outlasted a whole lot of other things that should themselves have lasted longer. And maybe it's like the life that they've chosen, the one that's defined the separating branches of their future: some things cannot be changed, only accepted, until they run their course.
It's 4:01 in the morning when Sehun blindly lets himself into Zitao's borrowed futon, bracketing the curve of Zitao's body like a fitted puzzle piece, and pushes one hand across Zitao's waist to settle in the middle of Zitao's bare chest.
Zitao shifts against him, whispering the start of a word Sehun can't understand, and settles again, heartbeat strong and steady under Sehun's palm. Sehun pushes his face into Zitao's red hair and takes a whiff; it smells like Sehun's shampoo.
"I missed you," Sehun mouths silently into the soft skin of Zitao's nape.
A hand slides across Sehun's arm and layers on top of Sehun's hand, fingers suddenly gripping tight around his wrist. A promise in the dark.
"Sehun," Zitao says, twisting around to meet Sehun's lips. He tastes like a year hasn't passed between them, the taste of Zitao in Korea.
Sehun closes his eyes and remembers that everything has to end sometime.