broken skin and a strong heart
title: broken skin and a strong heart
pairing: dev/luhan
rating: g
Devon and Luhan were different but alike. They both could run a good length, but where Devon ran just so he could, Luhan ran to get away; to escape those running after him. They both usually kept to themselves, but where Devon did it for the deeper, inner part of himself, Luhan did it for his important parts; not necessarily his essence, but just what mattered most. They both could not breathe, but where Devon's lack of breath was figurative - it was really too much breathing, hyperventilation -, Luhan's was real. After all, the dead no longer gasped for breath.
+
It was a sunny day when they met. It was always sunny, always too hot, and Luhan was wearing the ugliest sweater in the world, offensive in its print and its thickness. It was ninety degrees out, didn't he feel too warm? He was standing in front of the class, it was the first day of university, and he had to introduce himself.
"I'm Luhan," he said, voice soft. Devon almost couldn't hear him from where he was seated at the near end of the room. He walked towards the seats and sat in front of Dev, and all Dev could do was stare at the mole on the back of his neck.
Dev couldn't take his eyes off Luhan for the ninety minutes they were in that class together, even if all he could see was the back of his head and his shoulders. Something about him attracted him, he didn't find out until later that it was his mysteriousness; the way he talked like he was an open book, but if you really listened and read between the lines there was emptiness, a silent answer waiting for its question. Once Devon learnt this, he wanted to ask the question and be answered, but nothing could have let him know what to say even if his in-between-the-lines played forever. A paused game of Jeopardy that ended before it began. What a rude host Luhan had been, to not have let Devon guess the question before he died.
+
Luhan did not know that the person behind him observed the different directions his hair went, did not know about him often having the urge to extend his hand and comb his fingers through his hair, did not know that at night his smooth, fair skin over his was what he dreamt of. He didn't even know his name.
Not until a paper thumb tacked to the board in the ground floor of his dorm said a group of fine arts students were looking for models to draw, and although not lacking money in any way he wanted a hundred dollars. So he signed up, and a week later he found himself in a room full of paint brushes and pens and pencils and colour, and a person in front of an easel and a large sketch pad sat nervously with his head down, fiddling with his fingers in the middle of the room.
"Hi," he greeted, out of better words to say. He was about to tell him his name when he looked up, eyes wide and lips upturned.
"Luhan," and the way his name fell from his lips, the way he looked at him with something that wasn't quite shock nor happiness, their in-between, made him smile back.
"Sorry, I don't remember your name," he replied, almost regretfully. He watched as he huffed out a breath of expected disappointment, and walked to him, his fingers gently brushing against the tables full of art supplies.
"I'm Devon." Devon, Luhan repeated quietly, his lips forming two syllables he would later find himself always thinking about.
He stood there, fingers itching to hide in his pockets, but instead they hung awkwardly by his sides. "Should I do anything or..."
"Just- your shirt," Devon said. Luhan took some comfort in knowing that he was just as uneased by this as him. "Take it, uh... off."
+
After they were finished with their two hour appointment, Devon and Luhan exchanged numbers. ("So that I'll be able to draw you better," Devon told him. He didn't talk about his need to draw him better, the overwhelming hunger inside him that wanted to please him, the frustration when his fingers weren't drawn properly or his eyes did not shine the way they did in real life.
"Just call me whenever, I'll always pick up if it's you.")
When Devon arrived at his dorm, he immediately plopped down on his bed and looked at his ceiling with a smitten smile.
He found himself often looking at his phone to check if Luhan had texted, and once again it came, the disappointment he'd expected. Until almost one week later, his phone finally lit up with his name.
Lu Han
Hows it going?
Lu Han
The drawing I mean.
Lu Han
But also you.
Dev couldn't help his smile as his fingers tapped on his phone to reply.
Dev
me and the drawing are both good
Lu Han
Good enough to see tomorrow afternoon? Like 3 maybe?
Dev
sure. where?
Lu Han
You know the only decent café near the dorms?
Dev
yeah. see you then
+
Devon left to go to the café at precisely 2:50pm, and by the time he reached the place it was a minute before three. He scanned the tables to see if the ash blond-haired boy came before him, but he didn't, so he took a seat and waited.
3:12pm
The chime by the door made its usual warning noise when the door opened, and Devon lifted his head to see if it was Luhan. It was, and what a sight he was. He could see when he got close that he was tired, the eye bags under his eyes thick and dark, but his pleasant smile made him look fresh, content - happy, even -, and he, in his white shorts and light blue overshirt on top of his white tee, looked amazing. He rushed to Dev and sat down in front of him.
"Hi," Luhan greeted as he put his laptop bag down.
"Hi."
"So...."
"So."
Obviously, things weren't awkward at all. Dev thumbed the spiral wire of his sketch pad, tongue slowly darting out and licking his dry lips as he stared at Luhan's mouth. It was better than looking straight into his eyes, although only by very little, the difference so small it takes the same amount of space as four grains of salt. His lips were a dark tint of pink, as if he had been biting them prior to their meeting.
"How's the, uh, the drawing... going? Are you - is it, uhm, good?" Luhan rubbed the back of his neck, head slightly bowed, looking up at Dev.
"It's, uh, okay? Kind of shitty," he paused to flip through the pages of his sketch pad, fingers hovering at the page where he drew Luhan, the pad of his pointing finger on Luhan's sketched hip. He slid the sketch pad to him, and showed him the drawing, scared to see his reaction but unable to look away.
His eyes widened and he started smiling, a small, sweet one that reached his eyes. "This is amazing."
"Not really, it still lacks a lot."
Luhan raised his eyebrows at the statement, huffing a breath of disbelief. "No, okay? This is wonderful."
"I -"
"You're wonderful."
+
In the course of a month, Luhan and Dev met up a total of thirteen times. They would often meet in the café (which Dev learnt Luhan frequented because it was owned by one of his friends, which explained how he always got free food) in between classes or in one of the art rooms so that Dev could draw Luhan. Once, they went to an arts and crafts store together. It wasn’t a set decision, Dev just mentioned in passing that he needed to buy new pencils and Luhan offered to accompany him. They were about to leave when Luhan’s phone started ringing.
Luhan excused himself, bringing out his phone and pressing it against his ear. Dev was staring at the ceiling, tapping his foot on the floor as he waited for him.
“Fuck!” Luhan shouted into his phone. Dev turned to him, eyebrows furrowing in worry. Although he wasn’t speaking quietly, he couldn’t understand what he was saying, Mandarin flowing out of his mouth in tones of anger and annoyance. He could hear him repeating Xiumin over and over again, but it didn’t register in his head as something he knew of, he didn’t even know if it was a word or a name.
“You okay?” Dev asked him once he walked back to his side.
He smiled and put his arm around Devon’s shoulders, reassuring him with an, “I’m fine.”
+
Luhan was far from fine, Devon knew this. Although he still smiled often and laughed and joked around, he saw the dark bags under his eyes and how his shoulders were more slumped than usual. These kinds of things were normal for college students, almost every student was always tired and overworked, but he had seen Luhan with a big, yellow bruise on his stomach the previous week, and he knew that that wasn’t something considered as ‘fine’.
He tried to build up the courage to ask him what was wrong, but he felt that since Luhan never showed him signs that things weren’t fine, he had no right to intrude. But he was worried, so worried because the thought of Luhan hurt made his heartache, made his skin buzz with worry, made his eyes water with tears.
It made him frustrated, just being there knowing something could be incredibly wrong - what if his parents beat him up, what if he got into fights, what if, what if, what if.
Every single what if that crossed his mind, every bad situation he played out in his head, and nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it. Even though he saw it in his head, imagined him getting beaten up and having to stop himself because he couldn’t breathe anymore, seeing it happening in front of him was a whole different thing. Because it meant it was true, it was true and it was frightening, and he was in trouble and bruised and bleeding, and it was true.
He was walking to the arts building when he saw it, Luhan with two boys behind him - his friends, he knew because he’d seen pictures of them together and seen them walking together once or twice - fighting two other boys he’d seen around the school but never talked to.
They were out for everyone to see, knuckles bruised and skin split, cheekbones cut and noses bloody, clutching parts of their bodies that hurt. They were talking, and Dev couldn’t hear what they were saying because how could he focus on anything else when Luhan was there, bloodied and limping and eyes full of anger. Luhan was there, bloodied and limping and eyes full of anger, and hurt, so hurt, and Dev was there doing fucking nothing. He heard the vague whispers of everyone around him, things like Why isn’t security here? and Do they have nothing better to do? and This is so screwed up. And it was, it was so screwed up, because Luhan was there, hurting, bleeding, in pain, and he was standing far away unable to do anything, because everything had already been done, there was already pain given and he didn’t even know, couldn’t even try to stop it. He was balling up their fists, his legs itching to run, to run anywhere, to just fucking move, to do something, but someone called his name and all he could think was, This is not the fucking time.
He had forgotten, in all of the chaos, that he had an appointment with someone. A person named Minseok, and he just stood. He just stood there for god knows how long, the unfamiliar voice calling out his name. Devon, Devon, Devon.
He couldn’t help but think it wasn’t important anymore. The appointment, despite it being for his grades, the person he had to draw, everyone around him, the land under his feet, even his own name. All that was important was Luhan, in that moment, everything that mattered was Luhan and the fact that he was hurt. He was hurt, and Dev wanted to patch him up, and he couldn’t think of anything else but that. Until his name was called again, this time by a familiar voice, one he welcomed at any time.
He looked up to see Luhan, smiling at him, his face bruised and dirty.
“Hey, Minseok’s calling you,” he told him. He was pressing on his stomach, and Dev could see even in the dark of his clothes that he was bleeding out. He could only stare at him, he wanted to say Are you okay? I’ll bring you to the clinic. I’ll help you get better, but he was frozen as Luhan touched the side of their neck with his other hand, his thumb moving on Dev’s pulse. “Minseok’s kind of… trouble. Be careful, okay?”
And Dev wanted to laugh, because imagine this: the love of your life telling you to be careful while he’s beaten up and bleeding out, it was stupid, it was stupid and it was endearing and it was just. Luhan. It was such a Luhan thing of him to say and do, so he didn’t laugh, instead he nodded and left, walked to Minseok with an apologetic smile.
+
The next time Dev met Luhan, things were more peaceful. He went to him in his dorm, and they sat there just talking, watching a film on Luhan’s laptop, and sometimes Luhan’s hand brushed against his, and the blush on his cheeks wouldn’t go away.
“You’re okay?” Dev asked him after the movie ended, both of them on Luhan’s bed.
He gave them a small smile and nodded. “Don’t worry about me,” he told them.
“I can’t not when you’re going out and getting beat up,” he said, trying for a joke but sounding bitter and too concerned instead.
“It’s not something that always happens. Those guys, they… they’re part of a gang. They pick fights with anyone. Just so happens it was me that day.”
“But you’re okay… now? Your bruises?” He reached out to touch his hand, two fingers around one of his, and Luhan pressed his fingers around his as they looked into each other’s eyes.
“I’m fine, Dev,” he insisted, his hands warm and his smile even warmer.
“And your friends?”
“Tao and Sehun? They’re fine too. They’re strong.”
“Are you?”
“I am. As long as you’re here, I’m okay.”
“I -”
The door to the room opened, and in came a thin blond boy Devon was half-sure was Luhan’s roommate.
“Fuck, were you guys…?” he asked, and Luhan just laughed.
“No, Junmyeon, we were not.” Luhan sat up and looked at Dev. “Anyway, want me to walk you back?”
+
Things were okay for a while, Luhan had less scars and bruises and there were no more gangs fighting innocent people. Luhan and Dev went to places together and Dev still drew Luhan even though he was no longer Dev’s model. Dev hoped silently that their friendship was leading to something more, but he thought that either way, as long as there was a smile on Luhan’s face, it was okay.
Dev learnt that Luhan disliked Minseok, though he couldn’t understand why because Minseok was an angel, all smiles and politeness, but he didn’t judge because he only ever met Minseok during the times he drew him. There were days when Luhan would wait for Dev outside, glare at Minseok as he passed by, and Dev knew it was something more than a stupid thing like jealousy. Maybe they had been friends in the past, maybe there were wrongdoings committed, apologies never said, fights that went on for too long. But he didn’t ask, because he found that the past no longer mattered when the present was Luhan by his side.
+
One day, Luhan asked Devon to come over to the café, and when he got there, Luhan was sitting on the floor, his fingers rubbing his ankles. The tables were pushed to the sides, the chairs on top of them, and there was no-one else there but them.
“Uh…?” Devon asked intelligibly, and Luhan smiled at him and told him to come closer. He gestured for Dev to sit in front of him, and when he was settled down Luhan took Dev’s hand in his.
“Hi,” Luhan greeted, eyes downcast, a smile on his face though it seemed somber.
Dev was just about to ask what was wrong when Luhan spoke again.
“This is weird, right? It’s weird. I just - I don’t know. If you know. Just… how much you mean to me.” Luhan paused, biting his lip as he looked up at Dev. Dev was shocked and speechless. “I like… spending time with you. I like having you by my side. And I wish I could tell you everything about me before it all ends.”
“What? Before-”
Devon stared as Luhan looked up then laughed to hide how he was choking on sadness.
“I like you, Dev.” He shut his eyes and bit down on his lip before repeating, tears falling down his cheeks, “I like you.”
Just then, an unfamiliar voice thundered, “That’s enough. Do it.” And metal hit hard on the back of Dev’s head, and the last thing he heard before he closed his eyes was Luhan screaming.
+
‘Did you hear about it?’
‘It’s all over the news, fuck. Did you know him?’
‘He was in one of my dance classes. He was so nice, too.’
‘Wasn’t he in a fight on campus a few weeks back?’
‘Yeah, it’s so fucked up.’
It’s all over campus news.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
+
A BODY WAS FOUND behind Korea National University of Arts this morning, bruised and cut into several pieces. The body has been identified as K-ARTS student Lu Han. The police do not yet have leads, but the murder is suspected to be a gang related activity.
+
“Are you all right?”
My friend was brutally murdered, of course I’m not fucking all right. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“I’m here if you need to talk. I knew him, too.”
He hated you. “I’m here to draw you, Minseok. It’s fine.”
+
Dev
I miss you
Dev
Tell me this isnt real
Dev
Tell me this is a dream
Dev
We didnt even have a chance tell me this is just a dream
Dev
pick up
Dev
you said you’d always pick up if it’s me
Dev
god tell me this is just a fucked up nightmare and when i wake up you’ll be by my side
Dev
i keep calling you and shouting wishing you’d pick up but
Dev
i’d fucking die if you replied
Dev
maybe that’s for the better
pairing: dev/luhan
rating: g
Devon and Luhan were different but alike. They both could run a good length, but where Devon ran just so he could, Luhan ran to get away; to escape those running after him. They both usually kept to themselves, but where Devon did it for the deeper, inner part of himself, Luhan did it for his important parts; not necessarily his essence, but just what mattered most. They both could not breathe, but where Devon's lack of breath was figurative - it was really too much breathing, hyperventilation -, Luhan's was real. After all, the dead no longer gasped for breath.
+
It was a sunny day when they met. It was always sunny, always too hot, and Luhan was wearing the ugliest sweater in the world, offensive in its print and its thickness. It was ninety degrees out, didn't he feel too warm? He was standing in front of the class, it was the first day of university, and he had to introduce himself.
"I'm Luhan," he said, voice soft. Devon almost couldn't hear him from where he was seated at the near end of the room. He walked towards the seats and sat in front of Dev, and all Dev could do was stare at the mole on the back of his neck.
Dev couldn't take his eyes off Luhan for the ninety minutes they were in that class together, even if all he could see was the back of his head and his shoulders. Something about him attracted him, he didn't find out until later that it was his mysteriousness; the way he talked like he was an open book, but if you really listened and read between the lines there was emptiness, a silent answer waiting for its question. Once Devon learnt this, he wanted to ask the question and be answered, but nothing could have let him know what to say even if his in-between-the-lines played forever. A paused game of Jeopardy that ended before it began. What a rude host Luhan had been, to not have let Devon guess the question before he died.
+
Luhan did not know that the person behind him observed the different directions his hair went, did not know about him often having the urge to extend his hand and comb his fingers through his hair, did not know that at night his smooth, fair skin over his was what he dreamt of. He didn't even know his name.
Not until a paper thumb tacked to the board in the ground floor of his dorm said a group of fine arts students were looking for models to draw, and although not lacking money in any way he wanted a hundred dollars. So he signed up, and a week later he found himself in a room full of paint brushes and pens and pencils and colour, and a person in front of an easel and a large sketch pad sat nervously with his head down, fiddling with his fingers in the middle of the room.
"Hi," he greeted, out of better words to say. He was about to tell him his name when he looked up, eyes wide and lips upturned.
"Luhan," and the way his name fell from his lips, the way he looked at him with something that wasn't quite shock nor happiness, their in-between, made him smile back.
"Sorry, I don't remember your name," he replied, almost regretfully. He watched as he huffed out a breath of expected disappointment, and walked to him, his fingers gently brushing against the tables full of art supplies.
"I'm Devon." Devon, Luhan repeated quietly, his lips forming two syllables he would later find himself always thinking about.
He stood there, fingers itching to hide in his pockets, but instead they hung awkwardly by his sides. "Should I do anything or..."
"Just- your shirt," Devon said. Luhan took some comfort in knowing that he was just as uneased by this as him. "Take it, uh... off."
+
After they were finished with their two hour appointment, Devon and Luhan exchanged numbers. ("So that I'll be able to draw you better," Devon told him. He didn't talk about his need to draw him better, the overwhelming hunger inside him that wanted to please him, the frustration when his fingers weren't drawn properly or his eyes did not shine the way they did in real life.
"Just call me whenever, I'll always pick up if it's you.")
When Devon arrived at his dorm, he immediately plopped down on his bed and looked at his ceiling with a smitten smile.
He found himself often looking at his phone to check if Luhan had texted, and once again it came, the disappointment he'd expected. Until almost one week later, his phone finally lit up with his name.
Lu Han
Hows it going?
Lu Han
The drawing I mean.
Lu Han
But also you.
Dev couldn't help his smile as his fingers tapped on his phone to reply.
Dev
me and the drawing are both good
Lu Han
Good enough to see tomorrow afternoon? Like 3 maybe?
Dev
sure. where?
Lu Han
You know the only decent café near the dorms?
Dev
yeah. see you then
+
Devon left to go to the café at precisely 2:50pm, and by the time he reached the place it was a minute before three. He scanned the tables to see if the ash blond-haired boy came before him, but he didn't, so he took a seat and waited.
3:12pm
The chime by the door made its usual warning noise when the door opened, and Devon lifted his head to see if it was Luhan. It was, and what a sight he was. He could see when he got close that he was tired, the eye bags under his eyes thick and dark, but his pleasant smile made him look fresh, content - happy, even -, and he, in his white shorts and light blue overshirt on top of his white tee, looked amazing. He rushed to Dev and sat down in front of him.
"Hi," Luhan greeted as he put his laptop bag down.
"Hi."
"So...."
"So."
Obviously, things weren't awkward at all. Dev thumbed the spiral wire of his sketch pad, tongue slowly darting out and licking his dry lips as he stared at Luhan's mouth. It was better than looking straight into his eyes, although only by very little, the difference so small it takes the same amount of space as four grains of salt. His lips were a dark tint of pink, as if he had been biting them prior to their meeting.
"How's the, uh, the drawing... going? Are you - is it, uhm, good?" Luhan rubbed the back of his neck, head slightly bowed, looking up at Dev.
"It's, uh, okay? Kind of shitty," he paused to flip through the pages of his sketch pad, fingers hovering at the page where he drew Luhan, the pad of his pointing finger on Luhan's sketched hip. He slid the sketch pad to him, and showed him the drawing, scared to see his reaction but unable to look away.
His eyes widened and he started smiling, a small, sweet one that reached his eyes. "This is amazing."
"Not really, it still lacks a lot."
Luhan raised his eyebrows at the statement, huffing a breath of disbelief. "No, okay? This is wonderful."
"I -"
"You're wonderful."
+
In the course of a month, Luhan and Dev met up a total of thirteen times. They would often meet in the café (which Dev learnt Luhan frequented because it was owned by one of his friends, which explained how he always got free food) in between classes or in one of the art rooms so that Dev could draw Luhan. Once, they went to an arts and crafts store together. It wasn’t a set decision, Dev just mentioned in passing that he needed to buy new pencils and Luhan offered to accompany him. They were about to leave when Luhan’s phone started ringing.
Luhan excused himself, bringing out his phone and pressing it against his ear. Dev was staring at the ceiling, tapping his foot on the floor as he waited for him.
“Fuck!” Luhan shouted into his phone. Dev turned to him, eyebrows furrowing in worry. Although he wasn’t speaking quietly, he couldn’t understand what he was saying, Mandarin flowing out of his mouth in tones of anger and annoyance. He could hear him repeating Xiumin over and over again, but it didn’t register in his head as something he knew of, he didn’t even know if it was a word or a name.
“You okay?” Dev asked him once he walked back to his side.
He smiled and put his arm around Devon’s shoulders, reassuring him with an, “I’m fine.”
+
Luhan was far from fine, Devon knew this. Although he still smiled often and laughed and joked around, he saw the dark bags under his eyes and how his shoulders were more slumped than usual. These kinds of things were normal for college students, almost every student was always tired and overworked, but he had seen Luhan with a big, yellow bruise on his stomach the previous week, and he knew that that wasn’t something considered as ‘fine’.
He tried to build up the courage to ask him what was wrong, but he felt that since Luhan never showed him signs that things weren’t fine, he had no right to intrude. But he was worried, so worried because the thought of Luhan hurt made his heartache, made his skin buzz with worry, made his eyes water with tears.
It made him frustrated, just being there knowing something could be incredibly wrong - what if his parents beat him up, what if he got into fights, what if, what if, what if.
Every single what if that crossed his mind, every bad situation he played out in his head, and nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it. Even though he saw it in his head, imagined him getting beaten up and having to stop himself because he couldn’t breathe anymore, seeing it happening in front of him was a whole different thing. Because it meant it was true, it was true and it was frightening, and he was in trouble and bruised and bleeding, and it was true.
He was walking to the arts building when he saw it, Luhan with two boys behind him - his friends, he knew because he’d seen pictures of them together and seen them walking together once or twice - fighting two other boys he’d seen around the school but never talked to.
They were out for everyone to see, knuckles bruised and skin split, cheekbones cut and noses bloody, clutching parts of their bodies that hurt. They were talking, and Dev couldn’t hear what they were saying because how could he focus on anything else when Luhan was there, bloodied and limping and eyes full of anger. Luhan was there, bloodied and limping and eyes full of anger, and hurt, so hurt, and Dev was there doing fucking nothing. He heard the vague whispers of everyone around him, things like Why isn’t security here? and Do they have nothing better to do? and This is so screwed up. And it was, it was so screwed up, because Luhan was there, hurting, bleeding, in pain, and he was standing far away unable to do anything, because everything had already been done, there was already pain given and he didn’t even know, couldn’t even try to stop it. He was balling up their fists, his legs itching to run, to run anywhere, to just fucking move, to do something, but someone called his name and all he could think was, This is not the fucking time.
He had forgotten, in all of the chaos, that he had an appointment with someone. A person named Minseok, and he just stood. He just stood there for god knows how long, the unfamiliar voice calling out his name. Devon, Devon, Devon.
He couldn’t help but think it wasn’t important anymore. The appointment, despite it being for his grades, the person he had to draw, everyone around him, the land under his feet, even his own name. All that was important was Luhan, in that moment, everything that mattered was Luhan and the fact that he was hurt. He was hurt, and Dev wanted to patch him up, and he couldn’t think of anything else but that. Until his name was called again, this time by a familiar voice, one he welcomed at any time.
He looked up to see Luhan, smiling at him, his face bruised and dirty.
“Hey, Minseok’s calling you,” he told him. He was pressing on his stomach, and Dev could see even in the dark of his clothes that he was bleeding out. He could only stare at him, he wanted to say Are you okay? I’ll bring you to the clinic. I’ll help you get better, but he was frozen as Luhan touched the side of their neck with his other hand, his thumb moving on Dev’s pulse. “Minseok’s kind of… trouble. Be careful, okay?”
And Dev wanted to laugh, because imagine this: the love of your life telling you to be careful while he’s beaten up and bleeding out, it was stupid, it was stupid and it was endearing and it was just. Luhan. It was such a Luhan thing of him to say and do, so he didn’t laugh, instead he nodded and left, walked to Minseok with an apologetic smile.
+
The next time Dev met Luhan, things were more peaceful. He went to him in his dorm, and they sat there just talking, watching a film on Luhan’s laptop, and sometimes Luhan’s hand brushed against his, and the blush on his cheeks wouldn’t go away.
“You’re okay?” Dev asked him after the movie ended, both of them on Luhan’s bed.
He gave them a small smile and nodded. “Don’t worry about me,” he told them.
“I can’t not when you’re going out and getting beat up,” he said, trying for a joke but sounding bitter and too concerned instead.
“It’s not something that always happens. Those guys, they… they’re part of a gang. They pick fights with anyone. Just so happens it was me that day.”
“But you’re okay… now? Your bruises?” He reached out to touch his hand, two fingers around one of his, and Luhan pressed his fingers around his as they looked into each other’s eyes.
“I’m fine, Dev,” he insisted, his hands warm and his smile even warmer.
“And your friends?”
“Tao and Sehun? They’re fine too. They’re strong.”
“Are you?”
“I am. As long as you’re here, I’m okay.”
“I -”
The door to the room opened, and in came a thin blond boy Devon was half-sure was Luhan’s roommate.
“Fuck, were you guys…?” he asked, and Luhan just laughed.
“No, Junmyeon, we were not.” Luhan sat up and looked at Dev. “Anyway, want me to walk you back?”
+
Things were okay for a while, Luhan had less scars and bruises and there were no more gangs fighting innocent people. Luhan and Dev went to places together and Dev still drew Luhan even though he was no longer Dev’s model. Dev hoped silently that their friendship was leading to something more, but he thought that either way, as long as there was a smile on Luhan’s face, it was okay.
Dev learnt that Luhan disliked Minseok, though he couldn’t understand why because Minseok was an angel, all smiles and politeness, but he didn’t judge because he only ever met Minseok during the times he drew him. There were days when Luhan would wait for Dev outside, glare at Minseok as he passed by, and Dev knew it was something more than a stupid thing like jealousy. Maybe they had been friends in the past, maybe there were wrongdoings committed, apologies never said, fights that went on for too long. But he didn’t ask, because he found that the past no longer mattered when the present was Luhan by his side.
+
One day, Luhan asked Devon to come over to the café, and when he got there, Luhan was sitting on the floor, his fingers rubbing his ankles. The tables were pushed to the sides, the chairs on top of them, and there was no-one else there but them.
“Uh…?” Devon asked intelligibly, and Luhan smiled at him and told him to come closer. He gestured for Dev to sit in front of him, and when he was settled down Luhan took Dev’s hand in his.
“Hi,” Luhan greeted, eyes downcast, a smile on his face though it seemed somber.
Dev was just about to ask what was wrong when Luhan spoke again.
“This is weird, right? It’s weird. I just - I don’t know. If you know. Just… how much you mean to me.” Luhan paused, biting his lip as he looked up at Dev. Dev was shocked and speechless. “I like… spending time with you. I like having you by my side. And I wish I could tell you everything about me before it all ends.”
“What? Before-”
Devon stared as Luhan looked up then laughed to hide how he was choking on sadness.
“I like you, Dev.” He shut his eyes and bit down on his lip before repeating, tears falling down his cheeks, “I like you.”
Just then, an unfamiliar voice thundered, “That’s enough. Do it.” And metal hit hard on the back of Dev’s head, and the last thing he heard before he closed his eyes was Luhan screaming.
+
‘Did you hear about it?’
‘It’s all over the news, fuck. Did you know him?’
‘He was in one of my dance classes. He was so nice, too.’
‘Wasn’t he in a fight on campus a few weeks back?’
‘Yeah, it’s so fucked up.’
It’s all over campus news.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
+
A BODY WAS FOUND behind Korea National University of Arts this morning, bruised and cut into several pieces. The body has been identified as K-ARTS student Lu Han. The police do not yet have leads, but the murder is suspected to be a gang related activity.
+
“Are you all right?”
My friend was brutally murdered, of course I’m not fucking all right. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“I’m here if you need to talk. I knew him, too.”
He hated you. “I’m here to draw you, Minseok. It’s fine.”
+
Dev
I miss you
Dev
Tell me this isnt real
Dev
Tell me this is a dream
Dev
We didnt even have a chance tell me this is just a dream
Dev
pick up
Dev
you said you’d always pick up if it’s me
Dev
god tell me this is just a fucked up nightmare and when i wake up you’ll be by my side
Dev
i keep calling you and shouting wishing you’d pick up but
Dev
i’d fucking die if you replied
Dev
maybe that’s for the better