stop and stare, for EVERYONE [2/2]
*
Disneyland should be the tenth wonder of the world. Barely a month after debut, and they're already all together and in America. In Los Angeles. Lu Han hooks his chin comfortably over Sehun's shoulder, trailing along either behind or with him.
"Dude," Lu Han whispers, "That person has the same bag as me."
Sehun tries not to laugh. "No need to sound so bitter about it."
"You don't understand," Lu Han insists. "I love this bag. Now I know why girls get angry when someone else has the same outfit. I feel blasphemed. I can't stop staring."
"Okay," Sehun wheezes, his laughs silent. "Let's get out of here then."
"Sehun. Sehuna. Sehun. Sehun. Hun. Hunhunhunhun. Sehun."
Sehun pretends he doesn't know the full grown man on the swing behind him. Then he hears a whoosh and feels a rude bump to his seat. He turns around to face Lu Han, who is now smiling with satisfaction.
"I kicked it," he says, and Sehun sighs before turning around quickly to hide his own grin.
"Ya, Sehun!"
*
The amusement park they're in is a bit of a national disaster, but apparently the sudden budget cut rerouted the production team to this place, so everyone will just have to make do.
"Why did we end up here again?" Minjung grouses, running a hand through short, wavy black hair. It glints in the sunlight, hard like a raven's back. Sehun doesn't let himself think wistfully of softer hair or longer bangs. He tells her the same explanation over again, the one his PA had told him.
"Yah," she says. "I should sue."
And it's funny, and he's laughing, but everything still kind of sucks.
"Let's run everybody through everything again," the director says, endlessly patient and friendly. "Alright? Take out your lines, let's have a read through and then assume positions."
The camera crew shuffle around, and Sehun's stylist brushes his hair over and fixes his cap for him before walking away to the side.
They're here to film the date scene, of course. He's going to propose at an empty park at midnight, because he is playing the perfect role in a perfect drama about perfect love, and he still can't understand how people bring themselves to watch infinite variations of the same story line, over and over again. Still, he takes up his sheets and reads out his lines, trying out emphasis on different syllables and waiting politely as she goes through hers.
It isn't long before a crowd of girls walk by, satchels slung over their shoulders and bright, sticker-covered phones in their hands. A few of them screech and giggle and point out. Some of the staff on hand walk forward and tell them not to take pictures, but Sehun can see the flash going off on their phones from meters away. He blinks, pretends they're not there. He's supposed to be filming, as it is. But then, "Sehun oppa!" someone calls out, and he turns around to smile a little and wave before he can stop himself. It's so second nature, it's almost becoming his first.
"Nobody ever recognizes me," Minjung deadpans, "What am I, a side hoe?"
Sehun snorts despite himself. "Self-depreciation isn't good for emotional health," is all he replies, and she rolls her eyes.
"And where did you come across that, some self improvement book?"
It had been Joonmyun who'd told him that, actually, but it is a fair enough comparison. He doesn't deign her with a reply. After the fangirls walk past and their shooting's done for the night (or day, considering it's three minutes past two in the morning), the team breaks up and heads off in different directions.
"I'm not sleepy," Minjung says, and Sehun raises his head. She isn't one to talk so much to him usually. She smiles at him again. "Let's get coffee." She doesn't even wait for him to say anything, just tugs at his sleeve for a second before moving away.
"Better not be an espresso girl," he mumbles, before walking off after her. "I hate espresso." Automatically, his mind's eye recalls a silhouette of a person who did - who does - like it, and he shuts it off. Espresso tastes like the soup of a man's eyeballs who's been dead five years, and nothing anyone else says will change his aversion to it.
Two thirty five a.m., and they're sitting snugly opposite each other on a small table, knees almost bumping. The cafe lights are so bright they almost hurt his tired eyes. She's got an americano in front of her, and Sehun still doesn't know the difference between americano and espresso but he knows they both suck. While he's eyeing her drink, she's eyeing his.
"Caramel latte, triple shot of... I don't even know."
"It's sweet," he emphasises. "I want something nice and soothing."
"Could have ordered green tea," she suggests, but the bell tinkles and a man comes into the shop, little boy in tow.
Minjung's back is to the door, so she turns around to look. "Ah, Jesus," she says, softly. "So late at night and that kid is awake."
The man heads over to the counter to order, and the boy twirls around in a circle by himself, arms outspread. Then he stops and spots Sehun, and squeals. "Jesus," Minjung groans. "This is terrible." Sehun just smirks and waves at him.
"Ajusshi!" the boy yells. "You're so cool!"
Sehun pales considerably. "Did he just-"
"Mmm, I like this turn of events," Minjung grins, and waves at the kid, too.
The kid's father returns and tries to pull the kid away, "Hey, hey, don't disturb strangers, Jisung."
But Jisung ducks his father's grab and leaps straight onto Sehun's lap. "Hand shake!" he yells in Sehun's face, so Sehun grins and shakes his hand.
"Hug!"
Sehun complies, and rubs the top of his head for good measure. The father stands by, embarrassed. "Ah, I'm sorry, he's -"
"He's cute," Sehun grins up at him, and Jisung wiggles in agreement at this praise, before sliding to the floor and going back to the man. He keeps turning around and smiling at Sehun while he and his father wait for their order, and calls a, "See you tomorrow!" when they leave.
"You're pretty cute with kids," Minjung comments.
"Ahan?" he smiles, relaxing in his seat now that they're alone again.
"And you've got that whole," she waves her hands. "Quiet. Receptive vibe. Probably make a nice dad."
He laughs raucously at that, then tries to check himself and covers his mouth with his hand. "Me, a dad? Seriously?" He thinks about it. "It's just practice, really." Volunteering, he remembers.
His phone buzzes right then, so she takes a sip and pointedly leaves him to it. It's a text, from Lu Han. Sehun's heart shouldn't shake in his ears, but it does.
xiao lu:
suffering T-T parents set me up T-T
on a date T-T she is so not my type T-T
i cant believe they managed to do this
im in america and still this!!!!
tell me ur suffering too ;;;;... ;(
In the background, Sehun's aware that Minjung's own phone is beeping, so now they're both texting other people and he can't just... ignore this. He can't ignore this. He closes his eyes and breathes and counts to ten. It had been painful enough with Lu Han within reach, but now with Lu Han so far away and telling him this, it's even worse.
*
August, 2013. Today's fansign doesn't really stand out from the others they've had so far. The turn up is the usual amount (a good amount, an exhausting amount), they're all sitting in a row, not too distant from and not too close to each other, and Chanyeol's feet are sticking out from underneath the table. The post-it notes on the albums and photobooks have different questions that are all the same, and his head is muddled and he keeps reaching for his water bottle every five minutes.
"You'll have to pee in your pants at this rate, I don't think there's a bathroom nearby," Jongin whispers to him, and Sehun chokes on his water.
"Shut up," he whispers back, once he's recovered, and smiles at the girl who comes up to him next. She's got glasses on, blushing as she hands him her album and asks him her question directly.
"Sehuna," she says, "If you'd marry one of your members, who would it be?"
He doesn't even need to think about it. Neither does Jongin, obviously, since he kicks Sehun's leg almost before Sehun replies. "Lu Han hyung," he says, even adding in an, "Obviously," as he signs her album with a flourish. Absently, he doodles a little heart, then remembers to ask her name so he can write it down.
*
Sehun glances up and looks at Minjung. Still typing on her phone. Smiling at it, too.
yeah... lol he types in, and presses Send.
xiao lu:
wish u were here instead T_T we'd have a good date
And Sehun leans back and considers this. He thinks about the years of touches they've shared and secrets they've spilt, hours of sitting together at airports and in airplanes and leaning on each other's shoulders, hands on each other's waists, chins hooked over knees after warm up sessions in the studio and holding each other's heads over the toilet after they'd decided to drink too much again. He thinks about trailing fingers and the first and last time they'd really, really touched and felt. He thinks about feeling desperate and going over to Lu Han's bed even when they'd been arguing, about kicking the blanket off the both of them and Lu Han just acquiescing and holding him close.
He reads the screen again. wish u were here
Doesn't Sehun wish, too.
sehun:
haha yeah
would be great
"Salty aftertaste?" Minjung prompts him, and Sehun starts.
"Wh-what?"
"Bad aftertaste from the latte? You look like you got something really bitter."
No kidding.
"Nah. Was just thinking."
They split the bill and leave.
Everyone in the dorms is up by the time he reaches. "Look who's here," Baekhyun crows. "Just in time for breakfast, too!"
"He’s so wild, Joonmyun," Minseok comments. "Gallivanting around all night. We need to do something about him."
Sehun smiles, tiredly. "Hey, guys."
"It was the big proposal scene wasn't it," Jongin yawns, sliding into his chair. He takes up the teaspoon and frowns at the empty bowl. "Is this some kind of prank? What am I supposed to eat?"
"Thin air," Sehun yawns, too. "And yeah, I went down on one knee and gave her a fake Tiffany's, the whole deal."
"Kiss scene," Chanyeol predicts.
"Correct."
"Bet you didn't make out with the camera on a virtual date, though," Chanyeol says. He turns around and surveys the kitchen. "Anyone else in this room make out with a camera?"
Sehun has no idea why this is something to brag about, but he takes a seat next to Chanyeol anyway.
"Except you, Jongin," Chanyeol adds, hastily. "Nobody needs to know about your Taemin sexcapades."
Still staring dully at his empty bowl, Jongin manages a devious grin. "Indeed."
*
Something, Sehun finds out once they've flown back home, that none of the fans managed to catch in extensive detail: him and Lu Han wandering through Los Angeles by themselves.
Hands held tightly, fingers interlinked, they explored whatever they could in the time they had. A bar that Lu Han comically shielded Sehun's eyes from, a mall, some thrift shops, but mostly crooked, narrow alleys with every kind of stall, person and stray cat pushing against them in the hustle bustle of the afternoon. "Hey," Lu Han said, pointing at a booth with boxers folded neatly on the counter.
"No," Sehun said at once. "Hyung, you can't -"
But Lu Han dragged him along despite the protestations, and ended up purchasing Donald and Daisy duck underwear. "Dibs on Donald," Lu Han declared, bag in hand. "I am manly, dammit."
Sehun never mentioned this to anyone, but he had always preferred Daisy anyway.
Later, they found a pedestrian bridge and paused in the middle of it, Sehun leaning over the railings. Cars honk and screech below, and Lu Han winced. "Not very romantic," he had remarked.
Sehun shuffled closer to him. "Remember that movie about the girl who drowns in the end?"
"Even more unromantic, Sehuna! Anyway, there are too many of those movies. Be more specific."
"The one where they imagine their own magical land," Sehun persisted. "And the guy paints."
"Oh, Terabithia."
"Hmm."
"So you're trying to say I should imagine a romantic vision?" Lu Han let out a chuckle.
"Well, I can help. See, that road is really a river, and these are all trees by the riverbank. This bridge is made of stone -"
"And there are mountains on the horizon? And lights tangles through the trees?"
"And a flock of nymphs to serenade you," Sehun grinned.
Lu Han laughed outright this time. "Punk! I don't need nymphs." A little pause, Lu Han shuffling closer to him. "You're enough by yourself," he teased. And Sehun shouldn't have felt anything, he really shouldn't have, but his stomach swooped oddly at that, like he was flying in a good dream.
*
xiao lu:
hey. i'll be coming over to seoul
for some filming
in like a week.
...u think maybe
we could meet up?
*
China. When Lu Han's new and scruffy haired with that terrible Tohoshinki-esque haircut, Lu Han never stops pouring stories to Sehun about it. His entire life back there, he'd left for a language, and now for music he's left everything. And he doesn't mind - that's the part that Sehun latches onto the most. He does it all willingly, wrapping himself along whatever life throws him and making it his own plan, as if he'd thought of exactly all those windfalls and screwballs from the start.
But Sehun, Sehun just runs with things. He accepts and he follows and he gets tired and dismissed and blamed for not trying hard enough, and still he follows. Tenacity is the only thing he's good at, it seems, but then he says something to Lu Han and Lu Han laughs like Sehun's all set to go and win some stand up comedian award or something, and Sehun thinks, alright. He could get used to this. Things are better when Lu Han is around.
They reach the subway station, old sneakers squeaking along. Sehun has a pair of Lu Han's hand-me-downs, partly because Lu Han grew out of them and Sehun grew out of his own and these ones fit, and partly because Sehun secretly believes they're good luck. What part of Lu Han isn't?
The entire place is deserted. It's to be expected; half past one in the morning is not the most ideal time for traveling, and this old place is going to undergo renovation and re-construction next month anyway. Nobody really comes by here anymore, except for them.
Lu Han's talking about food stalls around the busiest area of Beijing, wistfully telling him about the steamed pork buns one minute before switching to his own mother's manchurian. "Better than the shops, Sehun, one day I'll take you there." And then they both pause - two gangly boys waiting for the train to arrive, beanies pulled low over their foreheads and knees subtly-not-so-subtly rubbing against each other for reassurance.
One day, I'll take you there.
"You will?" Sehun whispers, breaking the silence, and Lu Han turns around to face him, expression unreadable before it breaks into the smile Sehun's grown so familiar with. Easy and wide and crinkly eyed.
"I promise, Sehuna." And then he takes a step closer, til their foreheads almost bump and Lu Han's hands are trembling and slowly, slowly coming up to rest at Sehun's elbows. Lu Han bends down a little, twists his head, and they're just two boys, really, two worn-thin sets of bones aching for each other for months and weeks and years, now, and Lu Han's lips brush over Sehun's and Sehun tip toes, cold wind rushing through the subway just as he kisses back, and Lu Han keeps kissing him, keeps drawing back to whisper I promise, I promise, Sehuna I promise, like each word and each breath and each inch of their skin that touches is I love you, over and over again.
Sehun clings to him and believes.
*
They meet up in a car. Sehun should have expected this, but he hadn't, and now he's underwhelmed and tapping his fingers on the armrest, more than a little annoyed.
Lu Han clears this throat embarrassedly, sensing it. "Well, so."
It's midnight, too, because what pair of rich, celebrity trying-to-become-friends-again dudes don't meet up in a car at midnight like they're part of some reassembled drug cartel meeting up after busting out of jail. Except Sehun hasn't slept properly in a week and he hasn't touched marijuana in his sad, overly scrutinized twenty four years of life.
"I think maybe a good way to," Lu Han starts, drumming a little beat against his steering wheel and bopping his head to ease the atmosphere. But then he stops, because it isn't easing the atmosphere, and he's noticed the dark circles under Sehun's eyes. Which is honestly pretty rude, and he shouldn't be noticing or staring, because they both know that nobody sleeps in this industry, and sometimes people run out of BB cream. It's normal.
"Let's get drunk," Lu Han advises him, and doesn't even wait for Sehun to say anything before he turns the wheel, reverses the car from its parked spot, and starts driving.
"Your standards have been lowered," Sehun comments, throat a little raspy. They're sitting on the bonnet of Lu Han's car, a shopping bag of beer cans between them. "You'd get us drunk at three star restaurants before. With actual wine."
Lu Han laughs quietly, and Sehun leans sideways a little to look at him better. The long lashes dip seemingly bashfully, the wide grin tells another story, and his teeth gleam as his head drops as his shoulders shake. Sehun revels in it all. "Ah, you're making me seem so cheap."
"I am," Sehun admits. Then he raises his can and his eyebrow simultaneously for emphasis, "But am I wrong? That, is the question."
"You're not," Lu Han says, still laughing a little. "But before we could actually get drunk without getting caught."
It brings a lull to the conversation, both of them reminiscing as they down beer and stare up at the sky. It's dull and the stars have hidden away since the last time they'd been like this. They were on a hotel roof, and it was during their last tour stop together. Sehun forgets the city.
"It's been a while," Lu Han sighs, and he brings his knees up and hugs them.
Sehun pushes back against the windshield and spreads his legs, arms behind his head. "It has."
Somewhere along the next few moments, Sehun speaks up again, and he's not sure of what he's saying exactly, but he thinks it has something to do with how they'd be if Lu Han... if Lu Han hadn't. He realizes how desperate it sounds, tries to take it back, hopes Lu Han won't laugh at him with that sad smile of his that he seems to have grown into - the tiniest little quirk downwards on one end and the other end of his mouth curving up, eyes stubbornly glazing over.
And Lu Han doesn't. He talks back. He says it might have been better, says they might have had so much more together. Somewhere along the next few words, Lu Han's fingers find Sehun's, like they always had and always did and always have and always do and maybe maybe maybe always will, and they tangle, just softly, just so, and Sehun thinks it's the beer that's making Lu Han so lucid and wistful, and it probably is, but Sehun clings to this, to Lu Han's fingers and Lu Han's words, and lets himself believe.
"You made a lot of promises," Sehun says, eventually, when Lu Han's almost half-drowsed himself back to silence.
A squeezing pressure on his hand. "I meant them."
"I know you did," Sehun sighs, and that's the worst of it. That's the worst and best of it, to realize promises said at times are promises meant, and when things break ahead in time, that doesn't make the promises any less sincere. Those words are frozen forever and crystal clear, meant and genuine in every syllable, every exhale. It's the worst because it's over, and the best because it happened.
"You promised me China," Sehun says, presently, turning his head lazily to look at Lu Han again. Calm profile, elegant and sweeping in every way. Eyes almost closed. "Remember?" he adds.
"Ah," Lu Han says. His eyes flutter open, and he stares ahead. "I promised." Another tug at Sehun's hand. "I remember."
Sehun's lips are dry and his throat rasps again. "Does it still stand?"
Lu Han pulls Sehun's hand up, brings it to his mouth and kisses it, still staring straight ahead. He kisses Sehun's hand all over, every inch and every finger, inside his wrist and over his bone, between his fingers and on the tips of them. Each kiss like a fragment of something old and forgotten but renewing itself, redeeming itself. Each kiss like something trying to come back, like let's try again.
Sehun sits there, trembling, lets Lu Han do whatever he will.
"It does," Lu Han says at length, lets their hands drop to his lap, lets his head drop back against the windshield, lets an exhale whoosh out of his chest. He turns and looks back at Sehun, finally. "It does, Sehun. Always."
Sehun thinks about how short Lu Han's always has been before, but he lets it happen.
*
Sehun is out of breath and fifteen years old, lying spread-eagled on the floor of their practice room. Jongin goes through moves with Moonkyu hyung in the far corner, and someone shuffles in through the door. Sehun can't recognize the footsteps, but he also can't be bothered to open his eyes and see who it is, so he just goes back to trying to even his breathing.
The steps stop by his arm. "Hey," someone says, shyly. A vaguely familiar voice.
Sehun opens his eyes and looks. It's that pretty guy Joonmyun hyung had really taken a liking to. Lu something. He's smiling. "Hey," Sehun says, smiling back.
"I was going to get bubble tea," the guy says, a little haltingly. "Do you want to come too?"
Sehun gives a half second to think about it. "Sure."
Sehun is sixteen, and the boy opposite him is Lu Han but Sehun's christened him Xiao Lu and they smile as they bump knees under the table, straws in their mouths, almost empty cups in their hands.
"Are you going to suck up the actual balls," Lu Han comments, amused.
"I just like sucking," Sehun answers, indifferent. Lu Han raises an eyebrow and continues rambling about Manchester United. Staring at Lu Han's lashes and the way he shakes his head when he talks gives Sehun an inexplicable urge to do something. He decides to be obnoxious. "Cristiano Ronaldo," he says, randomly, which completely throws Lu Han off.
"What?"
Sehun slurps up a ball halfway through his straw, then blows it in Lu Han's face with a grin.
*
Maybe going for bubble tea after excessive drinking isn't the best idea. Maybe it is. Sehun just knows that Lu Han gets them six whole glasses in a tray, drives them to the riverside, and starts sipping on one.
Sehun gets one, too, and he's about to go for a second when Lu Han stops him, Goddamned hand on Sehun's Goddamned wrist again.
"No," Lu Han says, out of nowhere. "No." And before Sehun can react, the fingers have wrapped around his wrist, pulling him closer, and Lu Han is kissing him, eyes closed, shaking with something Sehun can't place. Sehun can't place anything right now, but this is happening, finally, all these years and it's finally -
Lu Han's hand fist in his shirt and they've probably spilled bubble tea on both their jeans, and the gears and dials between their seats press uncomfortably into their thighs, but Lu Han's making soft sounds and he tastes like spearmint and, well, bubble tea, and Sehun slowly raises a hand to cup his cheek, barely able to believe that this is really happening -
Lu Han pulls away with a loud gasp, and buries his head in his hands. Before Sehun can ask what's wrong, Lu Han's fingers tighten in his own hair. "I don't know," he whispers. "I don't know."
Oh.
"Xiao Lu," Sehun says, as if he doesn't feel like something's just been wrenched from him, stabbed and stolen and stowed out of sight. "Hyung. It'll be fine."
The next time they meet, five months down the lane, it's like it never happened. Sehun still has a crumpled receipt of six bubble teas in his pocket - salvaged from the tray during the drive to Sehun's place, where Lu Han had dropped him off with just a shaky pat on the shoulder - but he acts like it never happened. And if Lu Han has any memory, any keepsake, he doesn't show it.
He's talking about how Chelsea is utter shit, when Sehun tilts his head.
"Cristiano Ronaldo?" he says, and Lu Han starts.
"Why does this feel like deja vu?"
When doesn't it, Sehun wants to stay, but he just flicks a piece of tissue idly in Lu Han's direction.
*
"Hey, hey," Sehun says, falling onto Zitao's bed. "Come on, let's FaceTime hyung."
Zitao grunts, rolls over. "He'll be busy filming," he mumbles. "And then he'll be asleep. He never calls anymore."
Sehun knows that, ignores the rolling in his gut. "Come on," he says again. "You don't want me to use aegyo on you when you're half asleep."
"I don't," Zitao agrees, his hand already batting about on the side table for his phone. "Just take the phone and leave me alone."
"That's useless," Sehun insists. "I have my own phone. We're supposed to do the thing together."
Zitao grunts again, lying still and flat on his stomach, face in the pillow. "Alright," he says, finally. "Let me wake up first."
But Lu Han doesn't pick up when they call, not for fifteen whole minutes. Sehun calls again after an hour, and that's when Lu Han types in a message.
lululululu90:
guys
i'm rly tired can we call later T_T
sehunooh:
ok
how was your day did you drink enough water
lululululu90:
yes i drank a lot i have the entire sea in my stomach sehuuuuun
sehunooh:
ok
good night sleep tight
lululululu90:
talk 2 u tomorrow homie
sehunooh:
yeah!!
But tomorrow is going to be the same thing over again.
It's gotten to the point where they almost gang up on him during an interview. When the guy talks about Lu Han's schedule and asks how they keep in touch, Zitao starts it. "He never picks up."
"Never," Sehun says. "And whenever he does, it's always just that he's tired and wants some peace."
"The entire time he was filming," Zitao emphasises. "Ya, you think you're better than us?"
He makes it playful, but Lu Han has the decency to look a bit guilty as he laughs it off. They cut the segment and refilm it of course, but at least they made their point.
*
"Hey," Lu Han says, sleepily. He'd just gotten back from Germany for some big commercial, endorsing some... German brand, Sehun guesses. He can't be bothered to remember exactly what he's there for, he's too tired. They both are.
"Stayed up so you'd pick up," Lu Han jabs a finger at the screen. "Best appreciate my efforts."
"Haha," Sehun says, expression droll. Then he cricks his neck and stretches, and rolls in his bed for a bit.
Lu Han really laughs. "Hey, I called to ask how the recording went! Not to see you be a puppy."
"Aren't I cute," Sehun pauses mid-roll and raises his head.
Lu Han wrinkles his nose. "Could be cuter," he comments, and leaves it at that. "Anyway, how was the recording?"
*
Sehun sips hot chocolate from his mug.
It's been almost seven months now, since he'd seen Lu Han in real life last. Most weekends they webcam. Most days they text. Lu Han sent him a big white mug with a banana drawn on it. Pinku memories~ he'd scrawled on the post-it note stuck inside. His Hangul handwriting hadn't deteriorated in the least. Sehun sent him one of the mugs Lu Han's fansites had designed - tall, blue, and with his jaw illustrated mid-laugh. For your ego~ Sehun had written back, Mandarin improved from all the Chinese fansigns, and Lu Han had sent him multiple poo emojis when he'd received it, followed by ok though, it's pretty great, and i do love myself, so.
Lu Han's toweling his hair dry, a few feet away from the laptop. "So," he says, and his voice sounds slightly tinny, and then his relay freezes. Sehun waits patiently until it comes back to normal, but all of Lu Han's audio comes out in three seconds when it does, and his words get garbled up at an unbelievably high pitch. Then his voice starts echoing like the connection's undergoing demonic possession. "Come again," Sehun says, and Lu Han repeats himself, throwing his towel away.
"So," Lu Han says. "How about spending Chuseok together? I have, um, reservations for Rome, and then I'll take a train to Venice."
"Chuseok in Venice," Sehun chews his lip. "It'll be a pretty long flight."
Lu Han scoffs. "You take flights like teenagers pop pills. Remember LA?"
Sehun smiles. "I still have the Daisy duck boxers."
"My Donald ones have holes in them," Lu Han confesses. "But anyway, stop trying to come up with excuses."
Sehun laughs. "Alright. Venice it is, then. Watery city for your watery eyes."
"I cried a total of, what, seven times in all the years you've seen me, ever?" Lu Han's bangs get in his eyes, and he's frowning and looking adorable even when pixelated. Then he gnashes his teeth and manages to look even cuter.
"Seven times is a lot for a self-proclaimed macho person," Sehun points out.
"Man," Lu Han sighs, flopping down completely, and all Sehun can see is tufts of his hair standing up at the bottom of his screen. "Can you believe we'd end up like this, so far away?"
*
"Time for bed," Joonmyun hyung says. "Come on, Sehun."
"Shh," Sehun grouses. "I'm watching Xiao Lu's message."
Happy birthday, he's been saying, in Mandarin. I love you. Sehun stops the video and replays it. Happy birthday, I love you. Lu Han's eyes looking directly at the camera, a small smile on his face. Happy birthday, I love you. Sehun can hear Joonmyun sigh a little, then shuffle away. Happy birthday, I love you.
Sehun rolls away from the laptop and stares up at the ceiling, ears ringing a little from all the replays. Happy birthday, I love you.
A completely different country for Sehun. Back home, for Lu Han. He must be so happy.
Happy birthday, I love you.
*
"Yeah," Sehun smiles, a little absentmindedly. "I kind of do, actually."