Sea of Air
sea of air
sehun/luhan; pg; ~6000 words
--
Luhan sits at the edge of the small red couch in the little corner of his studio, watching as Joonmyun scrutinizes the painting he’s laid out on the easel-it’s his latest work, a painting of a mermaid looking out to sea, inspired by the famous ‘Little Mermaid’ statue in Denmark. Majority of his works are, most of them one way or another involving the vast ocean.
The sea has always fascinated Luhan, often driving out to the beach with his easel and paint in the backseat. Sometimes he’d just sit and watch as the waves crash onto the shore, basking in the salty breeze. There’s something about the sea that draws Luhan in, but at the same time, it makes him feel terribly lonely. It’s bittersweet, he supposes.
“It’s good,” Joonmyun says finally, turning to look at Luhan. “It’s good as always, Luhan. Your technique is impeccable as usual and I’m sure the director would love to have this displayed up in the museum, but.”
“But?”
Joonmyun sighs, crossing his arms as he regards the painting again. “It’s missing something, I’ve said this before.”
Luhan looks down, twiddling his thumbs as he draws his lower lip between his teeth. It’s not the first time he’s heard that comment. Luhan is sure it wouldn’t be the last. The young curator sighs again. The space on the couch beside him dips a little and a hand rests on his shoulder.
“I’ll have it taken to the director, we’ll settle the payment soon?”
Joonmyun smiles, soft and understanding, and Luhan lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Yeah.”
The music in Kris’s club is always a little too loud, Luhan thinks as he wipes the glasses down. Jongdae’s mixing up cocktails besides him, shooting a couple of flirty winks over to the girls over the counter who’d been eyeing him all night and Luhan resists the urge to roll his eyes.
Business on a Saturday night is booming as usual-More and more find their way into the club as the night goes on and they find themselves busy mixing up drink after alcoholic drink.
Luhan recognizes some of the regulars and has their usual ready for them before they can even make their way to the front of the bar, and they give him a grateful smile and a generous tip. Art supply money, he muses, pocketing the bills.
Then, even above the ear-splitting music and rowdy crowd, Luhan hears the soft clink of ice against glass and a sigh. Luhan turns to find a man leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of coke.
He’s attractive, Luhan thinks, but he looks incredibly sullen; there’s a deep frown on his face and his brows are furrowed, eyes glaring at the half empty glass of coke in front of him. Luhan frowns a little. He’s definitely too young to be looking like he’s turned against the world.
He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but Luhan promptly fills a glass with beer before sliding it over to the man. When the stranger looks up at him, curious and a little taken aback, Luhan smiles softly.
“It’s on the house,” He tells the man and when the man doesn’t move, Luhan urges him, making a motion with his hands.
Hesitantly, the man takes the cup, lifting it a little as a small toast. ‘Cheers’, Luhan sees him mouth, a tiny smile playing on his lips but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Luhan wonders what he’d look like with a genuine smile.
Luhan finds himself squeezing through the crowds at Hongdae two weeks later, having to make a run up to his usual art store to grab a couple of supplies he’d forgotten to pick up earlier.
It’s always too crowded in the late afternoon and he regrets not dropping by earlier as he mutters ‘excuse me’ and soft apologies under his breath. He tries to worm his way through the sea of people heading in his direction, but he ends up bumping (quite hard) into somebody anyway, watching in dismay as tubes and bottles of paint roll out of the bag, spreading out across the pavement.
Apologizing quickly, Luhan bends down to pick his purchases up when the stranger bends down as well, helping to gather whatever fell out and Luhan looks up at the man, only to recognize him as the sullen stranger from Kris’s bar a few weeks back.
The said stranger seems to realize this too, his eyes widening with recognition.
Neither of them says a word, and the stranger hands his paint over to him silently, his cold fingertips brushing past Luhan’s palms, and leaving burning trails in its wake. Luhan mutters a soft thank you as he dumps the tubes unceremoniously back into the bag and the man shakes his head, backing up a little before giving Luhan a curt bow and turning the other direction.
Luhan watches for a minute as the man walks away, his eyes fixed on the retreating cream coat before he breaks into a run, squeezing past bodies and bumping shoulders with strangers.
“Hey!” He calls out, but the man doesn’t hear so Luhan tries again. “Hey!”
He grabs onto the man’s hand when he’s in reach and for a second, Luhan marvels at how soft the man’s hands are.
“I-You,“ Luhan starts, and he already feels like smacking himself for being the epitome of smooth. The stranger stares at him blankly, but doesn’t make to pry Luhan’s hands of his.
"It's cold, I'm cold and you look like you're cold too and maybe you would- I don't know. Maybe you'd like to grab a drink? With me?"
The stranger continues to stare blankly for a moment and Luhan feels utterly stupid. He makes to apologize, but the other man beats him to it. "Sure," he hears him say above the sound of the busy streets.
Luhan grins.
They find a small cafe tucked away in a narrow street.
Luhan orders for the both of them - One chocolate latte with a brownie on the side for himself and an Americano for his companion- and steals glances while he waits for their order.
The said man sits quietly at their table, bag leaning against the side of his chair while he looks around the cafe curiously and Luhan turns away when the man's gaze lands on him. He feels a flush creep up his neck and he wills it away, praying his face isn't as red as he thinks it might be. He brings their food back to the table when it's done and the blond man thanks him with a small smile, helping him with the tray as he settles.
Luhan feels the stranger's fingers brush across his hand again-- it's gentle, barely there, but Luhan feels his skin tingling where the man's cool fingers ran across the back of his fingers. He gulps and shifts in his seat a little, bringing the mug of hot chocolate to his lips.
They don't talk for a while, both sipping at their drinks and occasionally glancing at each other while soft music plays in the cafe. It's warm and cozy and Luhan smiles softly, feeling warm and content. Setting his half empty cup down, he turns to look at the man sitting across him only to find that the man had been watching him as well.
Luhan considers saying something, but his companion beats him to it. "My name's Sehun." he says, stretching a hand out. "Oh Sehun."
"Sehun." Luhan repeats after him. It feels a little better, knowing his companion's name. His lips stretch into a smile and he accepts Sehun's hand. "My name's Luhan."
Sehun nods in understanding. "Do you- Do you work as a full time bartender at the club?"
Luhan laughs softly, shaking his head. "Only on weekends when Kris really needs my help. I paint, mostly. How about you? Do you visit the club often? I've never seen you around."
It's Sehun's turn to shake his head. "I teach. Dance."
"You must be good then," Luhan grins. "Though I didn’t see you at the dance floor the other day."
"I'm alright," Sehun mummers, shuffling in his seat. His cheeks redden just a little. “I didn't feel particularly well that day." They lapse into silence once again and Luhan hums as he brings the cup of chocolate latte to his lips, taking small sips each time.
He takes this time to observe Sehun's little gestures, the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips every now and then, or to lick away the stray drops of coffee from the corner of his mouth. He stifles a laugh when Sehun's face turns red after noticing his stare.
"Well," Luhan starts. "I hope to be able to see you dance one day, maybe?"
Sehun's visibly startled at the request, but he simpers.
Luhan doesn’t know how long they sat at the café or how long he’d been not so subtly staring at Sehun for, but the next thing he know is that it’s nearly seven and Sehun’s hastily gathering his belongings.
“I’m sorry, but I just have this class in a couple of minutes and-“ Sehun tells him and Luhan shakes his head, making to gather his bag and purchases as well. His hip bumps against the small coffee table, making the teaspoon rattle in the empty mug.
“No biggie,” Luhan replies simply. It’s getting late anyway, and he really ought to be back home. “It was nice though, this. Nice.”
Sehun’s lips tug up at the corners. “Do you need help with your bags?” He offers instead, and Luhan shakes his head.
“It’s fine, my place is close by the station so.”
Sehun nods and holds the door open for him. Luhan curses when the cold air hits his face and shivers a little in the breeze. He's never liked the cold seasons.
“I’ll be going this way then,” Sehun says, pointing in the opposite direction and Luhan’s heart falls a little. Maybe it had been too much to hope to walk together, suddenly feeling like a high schooler with a crush.
“I’m… the other way.”
“Well then, thank you, for well. It was nice.”
Luhan hums in agreement. “Nice, well. It was nice meeting you too, Sehun.” He fumbles with the bags in his hands and offers his hand. Sehun blinks once, dazed, before smiling and taking it.
Sehun’s hands are big and warm; firm but gentle all at the same time. Luhan realizes that the other man’s hand is big enough to swallow his own. Neither make a move to let go first, but ultimately Sehun pulls away.
“I’ll… see you around? Maybe?” He starts, cheeks flushed with a pretty pink.
“Yeah,” Luhan laughs and Sehun flushes even more, tugging his red knitted scarf up to his nose. He waves one last goodbye before he turns on his heels, watching Sehun blend into the evening crowd.
Suddenly feeling colder, Luhan sighs and turns to walk home, when he hears Sehun’s voice again. He turns to find a flushed man running towards him, the ends of his red scarf flapping wildly about behind him and Luhan muses that it might be one of the most ridiculous things he’d ever seen.
Sehun’s out of breath by the time he reaches Luhan and Luhan bites back a comment about a dancer’s stamina. He watches as the blonde man fishes about in his coat, pulling out a small scrap of paper before scribbling on it hastily.
Gently, Sehun tugs Luhan’s hand and places it in the center of his palm, folding his fingers over it carefully.
"I have a small studio here- Hongdae, near here. It's small, but it's pretty good and. Yeah." Sehun says, breath coming out in small white puffs in the cold winter air. His hand is warm in Luhan's and Luhan thinks that Sehun looks especially good with pink dusting across his cheekbones.
"If-" Sehun stammers. "If you'd like, maybe. You could just pop by. I'm there most of the time so if you'd like to see- well. I'd like to- I hope to see you around." Sehun tells him, before slipping his hand out of Luhan's and walking away briskly, with hasty goodbyes spilling from his lips.
Luhan stares at Sehun’s retreating form, as if in a daze. He snaps out of it minutes later and looks down at the piece of paper Sehun had left him-his number, studio address and a smiley face messily written on white.
For nearly three weeks, Luhan doesn't touch his brushes. He doesn't paint. The tubes he got from the art store down in Hongdae lie on the table of his studio, untouched and his canvases clean.
He sits at the edge of his bed, legs crossed under him while he sketches furiously onto his sketchbook, graphite from his pencil staining the side of his hand grey. For days, the image of Sehun had refused to leave his mind, and even in his dreams he'd seen the boy. So he draws. Page after page he draws. Sehun, Sehun, Sehun. Luhan wonders if it borders on obsession and he groans in frustration, setting his sketchbook beside him.
Luhan hides his face in his hands, not caring if the graphite smears on his face. His phone is heavy in his pocket and his fingers are just itching to reach in and dial Sehun's number. Gingerly, he looks up and stares forlornly at the scrap of paper Sehun had given him days earlier, pinned to the corkboard on his wall. It stares back at him.
He wants to phone for some backup; for some emotional aid, anything really, but Jongdae and Zitao are the worst people to talk about feelings to, Kris is too busy and Minseok is away in China for some stupid expo (how dare he leave his friend in need behind). So Luhan calls Yixing.
"So go to his studio," Yixing says gently after listening patiently to Luhan's pretty boy crisis, as he so delicately puts it. "You said that you have no balls to call him, so drop by or something, I don't know."
Luhan squints at his phone, rolling around on his bed while Yixing's voice rings through his speakers. "I don't even have the balls to call him and I should visit him?"
There's shuffling on the other side of the line and Luhan pictures his Chinese friend shrugging. "Didn't you say you were curious about his studio?"
He picks at the loose thread hanging from the hem of his worn shirt. Yixing has a point; He always has one. It's one of the things Luhan loves to hate about him. It's also how Luhan winds up walking aimlessly through small streets, shivering a little in the cold.
It takes him awhile to find Sehun’s studio-Luhan is a lost cause when it comes to directions and Google maps is being an unhelpful prick. He buys himself a drink because if he’s going to wander the streets like an orphaned child he might as well do it with a warm cup of cocoa in his hands.
The sun has long set by the time he manages to locate the building-- up on the second floor above a small boutique. Small bells tinkle when he pushes past the glass doors, and Luhan calls out once but there’s no answer.
The lights are still on and there’s still a single pair of shoes on the rack next to him, so Luhan assumes that Sehun’s still around. Quietly, he toes his sneakers off at the entrance, arranging them neatly next to the other pair on the shoe rack against the wall.
He looks around the entrance; it’s small, but not too small-just right. The walls are painted in bright, cheerful colors although Luhan spots some footprints here and there, no doubt left by playful kids.
There is a bowl of candies on the front desk, half empty, and framed pictures all around. Happy faces stare back at him as Luhan looks through them, fingers running over smooth wooden frames.
Most of the photos are with Sehun and the children he teaches, but there is one in particular that catches his eye-Sehun and another man, smiling for the camera with a bunch of kids. Sehun looked genuinely happy in this one, a stark contrast to how he looked the other day at the bar.
Before he’s able to take a closer look, a soft sob interrupts his thoughts and Luhan finds himself following the sound to a small studio. As quietly as he can, he pushes the sliding door aside, eyes falling onto the figure in the middle of the room.
Sehun’s curled up into a ball, face pressed into his arms as he cries, body shaking violently. He looks so terribly small and frightened and Luhan’s heart breaks a little. For a minute, Luhan considers walking out-it’s a private moment, something he shouldn’t have seen, and yet.
Feeling a sudden burst of courage, he takes big strides across the tiny room, dropping onto the ground before Sehun and gathers the blond man into his arms, hand cupping the back of Sehun’s head.
The other man is visibly startled and he stiffens in Luhan’s hold. Luhan vaguely wonders if he is overstepping his boundaries-he’d only just met Sehun weeks ago, barely even knew him. But as Sehun curls into Luhan, sobbing into his fleece coat, Luhan pushes those thoughts away. Instead, he starts to stroke Sehun’s hair comfortingly, occasionally running down his spine in an effort to console the younger man.
Later after Sehun calms down, Luhan takes the puffy eyed man out for dinner. The shop is a little smoky, but Luhan insists that it’s the best bbq restaurant around. (Also because it’s 10,900 won for an all you can eat dinner. Cheap is always good.)
“Barbeque cures all,” Luhan tells Sehun seriously, shoving pieces of marinated pork onto Sehun’s plate while he grills more beef for them. He beams when he while watching Sehun gobble the food up, putting more on the other man’s plate and laughing when Sehun whines about it being too much.
They don’t talk about the incident.
Luhan begins to visit more often.
Luhan learns that Sehun doesn’t dance professionally because of an incident that happened awhile back. The doctors constantly remind Sehun not to strain his legs and Sehun only smiles mirthlessly when Luhan asks why. So he does the next best thing, he watches out for Sehun.
At first, it starts out once or twice a week, when either one of them would ring each other up for a chat. Then it becomes something nearly every other day, and finally he winds up visiting Sehun’s studio every day, either when he finds himself bored at home with no inspiration to paint, or when Sehun finishes work without any evening classes to teach.
The cold of winter fades away quickly as spring nears, and from the window of Sehun’s studio, Luhan watches the flowers come in full bloom. More often than not, he finds himself going to the dance studio rather than staying in his own. He brings his sketchpads and draws caricatures of the children, watching their faces light up when they see themselves on paper.
They start to call him a magician and he learns their names; learns to recognize their faces and smile as they wave goodbye when their parents pick them up in the evening after classes.
Dinner becomes a routine for the both of them. They like to argue over who gets to pay for dinner, but end up splitting anyway. The bubble tea after dinner though, is always Sehun’s treat. (Not like he could say no to Luhan’s pouty face and whines.)
Sometimes, Sehun follows Luhan to Kris’s bar and hangs around till Luhan gets off work so that he can walk the other man home. Luhan appreciates the sweet gesture, but gives the girls who flirt with Sehun the stink eye and glares holes at Sehun until the other man declines their invitations and offers.
Sometimes, Sehun ends up staying over at Luhan’s place and they watch re-runs on television before squeezing onto Luhan’s single bed, whispering goodnights as Sehun tucks Luhan’s head under his chin and as Luhan throws a leg over Sehun’s waist.
They wake up in the morning with Sehun half off the bed and Luhan gripping onto Sehun’s arm like his life depended on it.
Sehun’s first meeting with Luhan's friends winds up a disaster. Too much Jongdae and too much alcohol, he thinks. Sehun had gotten along swell with the gang, talking easily with Kris, Minseok, Zitao and Yixing, but Jongdae had been a whole other story.
‘Luhan’s pretty boy crisis’ had been brought up and was the cause of most of Luhan’s grief and Jongdae’s pain that night, though Sehun had been plenty amused.
He still paints.
More recently, Luhan finds himself enamored with flowers and things in motion-dancers. He paints and paints with stars in his eyes and love in every stroke. He dreams of blond hair and sleepy eyes; of fingers that leave warmth spreading under his skin. Luhan dreams of love and wonder; He dreams of Sehun.
Joonmyun comes by when Luhan calls him. He takes a few minutes to go through Luhan’s recent works and smiles at him.
“It’s lighter now, brighter with more emotion.” The young curator says, appraising his work. Luhan laughs, light and airy. “Something good happened recently, I presume.” There’s a knowing smile and a mischievous light in the younger man’s eyes.
“Yeah well, I’ve found somebody I love.” He explains and Joonmyun laughs softly, looking older than his years. He tells Luhan that he’s interested in starting up a gallery for him, and they work out plans for it.
Sehun’s absolutely ecstatic when Luhan breaks the news to him, congratulating him by buying top-grade beef back home for dinner one night. Luhan whines about it being over the top but ends up eating a little more than half, much to Sehun’s amusement.
That one evening in winter is never brought up.
Luhan doesn’t mind-Sehun will tell him when the time is right, but for now, he’s satisfied. Sehun opens up to him a little more each day, just like a flower in bloom, and Luhan finds himself falling harder and harder with every little bit of Sehun that’s revealed to him. Luhan keeps moments with Sehun close to his heart, their secrets tucked away like little gems meant to be treasured and loved.
He runs his fingers across Sehun’s cheek while the other sleeps in his arms, and brings his hand up to kiss Sehun’s fingertips one by one. He watches as the frown on Sehun’s lips smoothes out, as the creases on his face disappear.
They aren’t lovers, not really. Luhan doesn’t know what they are, but he’s too afraid to ask; too afraid to break what they have between them. So he’ll wait, he decides.
He’ll wait.
Sehun’s dance studio is rarely closed before seven, so to find it empty and locked down on a Wednesday afternoon worries Luhan a little.
Unsettled, Luhan texts Sehun and waits for him at their usual bubble tea café, but as day turns to night with no replies and no sign of a familiar head of blond hair anywhere, Luhan gives up and decides on going to Sehun’s house instead.
He lets himself in with the set of keys Sehun had made for him two months earlier, kicking off his shoes and peeling his socks off. The apartment is dark, save for the yellow light from the lampposts outside seeping through the cracks between the curtains.
“Sehun?” He tries, fumbling about for a switch and sighing in relief as his hand comes in contact with one. “Sehun-ah.” He calls out again. No response.
Sighing, he makes his way through the small apartment. Luhan makes a note to tell Sehun to clean up-it looks like a mess, papers strewn about and boxes left unopened. It smells a little musty, as though everything had been stored away for a long time. He wrinkles his nose.
He trips over boxes twice before managing to make it to Sehun’s bedroom, thankfully unscathed. Sehun’s living room, kitchen and bathroom had been empty, so the only place left to hide in was his bedroom. Luhan holds his breath as he pushes open the rickety wooden door and lets it out when he finds Sehun curled up into a lump beneath his favorite quilt.
Luhan shuffles his way into the cramped room, kneeling at Sehun’s bedside. The younger man is asleep, but Luhan notices the dried tear tracks down his flushed cheeks and instinctively brings his hand up to wipe them away. Sehun leans into his touch.
Gently, he brings his hand upwards to check for a fever and is relieved when there is none. Luhan makes to leave, but the photo frame clutched in Sehun’s hands catches his eye.
He pries it away gingerly, swiping his thumb over the glass where Sehun’s face is-he’s happy, as happy as he was in the photo at the studio. Again, it’s with the same man from before and Luhan’s heart hurts just a little. All of a sudden, Luhan feels like an intruder once again, like he had stumbled on something he wasn’t meant to see, and the frame feels heavy in his hands.
(He wonders if he had ever made Sehun that happy.)
Quickly, he sets it down on the bedside table. His stomach drops and he feels incredibly queasy. It’s a terrible feeling, he thinks. Luhan turns to leave, but he feels a tug on the ends of his coat.
"Stay," Sehun whispers in the dark and as if in a trance, Luhan nods. He shrugs off his coat and shimmies out of his day clothes, sliding into bed with Sehun and the younger man winds his arms around Luhan's waist, pressing his body flush against Luhan's and tucking his face into the crook of Luhan's neck.
Luhan suddenly feels warm all over, and god. The smell of Sehun's cologne invades his senses and he thinks the dancer is too close but yes, yes, yes it feels so good and he wraps his own arms around Sehun's frame, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.
His reverie, however, is broken when he hears Sehun mutter 'Jongin' in his sleep, and the name floats around in his mind for the rest of the night.
If Sehun is surprised by Luhan’s presence next to him when he wakes the next morning, he doesn’t show it.
Instead, he beams and greets Luhan, despite his puffy eyes and red nose. The frames and pictures from the night before are hastily packed out of sight, tissues thrown away.
He knows it’s unfair to pin expectations on Sehun-when he first understood the extent to which he fell for the younger dancer, he had agreed not to force Sehun into anything. He told himself he’d wait. So Luhan washes up and exits the tiny room, to find that Sehun had cooked them up a nice, big breakfast-scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and pancakes on the side.
Breakfast is a quiet affair; the only noises are the honks from disgruntled drivers in the early morning, and the soft sizzle of bacon when it hits the pan. Silence is usually comfortable when Luhan is around Sehun, but Luhan only feels suffocated this time round and excuses himself to the toilet.
“The toast will be out in a minute,” Sehun says, breaking the silence. His voice is husky, a little rough and Luhan vaguely wonders if it was because he was crying the night before.
“Thanks,” is Luhan’s only reply as he drags the a chair out from under the table. The chime of the toaster alerts Sehun to the bread and he carefully removes them, placing them onto a plate.
Luhan waits for him to settle before he starts to dig in.
He feels Sehun’s gaze on him as he eats, biting into the warm toast. “You’re awfully quiet today,”
“I don’t feel too well,” Luhan lies, and immediately regrets it when Sehun leans over the table to press the back of his hand against Luhan’s forehead. His touch burns, and Luhan moves further away.
Sehun frowns.
“Well, you aren’t running a fever. Maybe a cold? Do you want to see a doctor? I can come with you if you’d like.”
Luhan shakes his head. “I’ll be fine with a little rest.”
Hurriedly, Luhan scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and gathers his things, declining Sehun’s offer to rest at his place for the day. He doesn’t turn back when he leaves. He doesn’t want to see Sehun staring back at him with those sad, red-rimmed eyes.
He can’t.
Luhan avoids Sehun like the plague.
He won’t deny it, not when it’s blatantly obvious. He ignores Sehun’s text messages and stays over at Yixing’s, sulking and eating ice cream by the tubs. He loses himself in his paintings, only to trash them all in the end.
Jongdae complains about the lack of Sehun-ism and its after effects on Luhan’s sanity. Or lack thereof. For once, Luhan doesn’t argue with Jongdae.
Curious, he checks his phone once, scrolling through Sehun’s messages from earlier that week until he reaches the most recent one, sent just this morning. ‘Hyung.’ It reads, short and simple, but it makes Luhan’s heart ache and crumble into tiny shards and he buries himself under the sheets for the rest of the day.
Evidently, Sehun has had enough of Luhan’s antics, because he shows up at Kris’s bar one night while he’s working.
Luhan’s certain Kris had something to do with it, considering the younger man had been pestering Luhan to help out at the bar for a few days now. It can’t be any coincidence that Sehun shows up when he’s working, it just can’t.
His heart speeds up when Sehun’s eyes land on him and he watches Sehun stalk towards him. Panicking, Luhan flees, haphazardly tossing his shaker onto the counter as he begs Jongdae to cover for him.
He manages to hide himself in the staff bathroom for a good half hour before Jongdae comes in to complain about Luhan ditching him.
By some miracle, Luhan thinks, Sehun doesn’t approach him. He still feels the burn of Sehun’s gaze on him and occasionally sneaks glances at the blond man at the other end of the bar, but he’s glad that Sehun’s keeping his distance.
Until he realizes that Sehun had been deliberately waiting it out.
As the hours trickle by, the crowd thins out until Sehun and the staff are the only ones left in the bar. Kris had very graciously patted Luhan in the back, kindly informing him that he’d be on cleanup for that night.
His heart races as he watches the rest of the crew pack their bags and say their goodbyes. Sehun is still seated at the end of the table, slender fingers fumbling around with the glass in his hands. The doors of the club click shut and Luhan knows everybody else has gone home for the night.
Luhan bites his lip, going back to arranging shot glasses in their rightful place. He bides his time, working as slow as he possibly could as he prays and prays that Sehun would leave quickly and spare them both awkward conversations.
Sehun doesn’t.
Instead, he slides off the bar stool and walks behind the counter, curling his fingers around Luhan’s thin wrist, earning an undignified yelp from the older man. Luhan begins to protest as Sehun drags him out of the little booth.
"I don't dance, Sehun." Luhan argues weakly, trying to tug his wrist out of Sehun's grip but to no avail. "I'm tired and you have class tomorrow. Let's just go home and-"
Sehun stops when they reach the center of the dance floor and he intertwines Luhan's fingers with his own, guiding Luhan's right hand to his shoulder while he rests his own on Luhan's waist and starts to move slowly.
Luhan stares blankly at Sehun who stares back, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his brow furrows a little. "That night when you came over," He starts. "I closed the studio because I was visiting somebody I cared about."
The club is relatively quiet, save for the soft music Chanyeol always puts on after a long day of work. (“To relax,” the dj explains.) Luhan stops struggling. He hears the blood rush in his ears and his heart beats wildly against his chest but he lets out a soft sigh and rests his head on Sehun's shoulder, nudging his neck with his nose, encouraging Sehun to go on.
"The man in the pictures- His name was Kim Jongin, he was my first love, the man who I shared my dreams with. He.. He isn’t around anymore."
Sehun takes a shaky breath in but Luhan presses comforting kisses down his jaw, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as an sign to continue.
"We met in middle school- he transferred into my class in the second year, new kid but everybody loved him. I didn't at first,” He laughs shakily. “But he wormed his way into my life, and he had me join his little dance group."
"It was the two of us versus the world from then on, and it was for a very long time. After high school, we went to study on to dance and we eventually moved in together and started up our little dance studio. I was happy, then. We both were, but it didn't last. We- We got into an accident. I was left unable to strain myself and he- he didn't make it. When I woke up in the hospital two weeks later, they’d told me- They told me he died upon impact. He saved me."
“Three years later, I met you.”
"The very first time I saw you, and that day when you visited the studio, when it was closed, I visited his grave. I always do, every year. I- I told him, told him everything that had happened recently, told him about you."
Luhan looks up at him and Sehun's eyes are a little glossy. They stop dancing and Luhan moves his hands up to cup Sehun's cheeks, brushing away the tears that roll down his cheeks.
"I told him how happy you make me. I told him that he'll always hold a special place in my heart, but I love you, Luhan. I really do love you. I love you so much I don't know what to do with myself and I- God. I just want to hold you tightly and kiss you and make you as happy as you make me."
“I want to be able to go to sleep with you safe and sound in my arms and wake up to your kisses. I want to be able to hold your hand when you’re happy and comfort you when you're down. I want to be able to be with you and to love you and I-“ Sehun chokes.
Luhan bites his lower lip and he doesn't notice that he's crying until Sehun's wiping away his tears with his thumb, and Luhan laughs, bringing Sehun closer until their lips are nearly touching.
“Yes,” Luhan whispers. “Yes, yes, Sehun. Yes.”
It's a soft kiss, just a press of lips against lips, but Luhan pours all his love into it and holds Sehun as tightly as Sehun holds him.
"I'd like to go with you,” Luhan says. “Next time.”
Sehun looks up at him from the bed, hair disheveled and surprised, as Luhan leans against the window of his- no, their- room, smiling softly at his lover.
"To the cemetery."
Sehun doesn't say anything, staring at Luhan. He bites his lower lip.
"I'd like to meet him- Jongin. He means a lot to you and I'd- I'd like to pay my respects. If you're okay with it."
Sehun blinks a couple of times, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he takes a deep breath in. He gets up from the bed slowly, making his way towards Luhan. Sehun tugs Luhan closer to him, nodding and breathing out a 'yes' against his lips.
"I'd like that," Sehun says when he pulls away, a small smile playing on his lips.
*HAPPY BELATED LUNAR NEW YEAR
*where are all the hunhan fics these days ꒰•̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ ﹏ •̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥๑꒱
sehun/luhan; pg; ~6000 words
--
Luhan sits at the edge of the small red couch in the little corner of his studio, watching as Joonmyun scrutinizes the painting he’s laid out on the easel-it’s his latest work, a painting of a mermaid looking out to sea, inspired by the famous ‘Little Mermaid’ statue in Denmark. Majority of his works are, most of them one way or another involving the vast ocean.
The sea has always fascinated Luhan, often driving out to the beach with his easel and paint in the backseat. Sometimes he’d just sit and watch as the waves crash onto the shore, basking in the salty breeze. There’s something about the sea that draws Luhan in, but at the same time, it makes him feel terribly lonely. It’s bittersweet, he supposes.
“It’s good,” Joonmyun says finally, turning to look at Luhan. “It’s good as always, Luhan. Your technique is impeccable as usual and I’m sure the director would love to have this displayed up in the museum, but.”
“But?”
Joonmyun sighs, crossing his arms as he regards the painting again. “It’s missing something, I’ve said this before.”
Luhan looks down, twiddling his thumbs as he draws his lower lip between his teeth. It’s not the first time he’s heard that comment. Luhan is sure it wouldn’t be the last. The young curator sighs again. The space on the couch beside him dips a little and a hand rests on his shoulder.
“I’ll have it taken to the director, we’ll settle the payment soon?”
Joonmyun smiles, soft and understanding, and Luhan lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Yeah.”
The music in Kris’s club is always a little too loud, Luhan thinks as he wipes the glasses down. Jongdae’s mixing up cocktails besides him, shooting a couple of flirty winks over to the girls over the counter who’d been eyeing him all night and Luhan resists the urge to roll his eyes.
Business on a Saturday night is booming as usual-More and more find their way into the club as the night goes on and they find themselves busy mixing up drink after alcoholic drink.
Luhan recognizes some of the regulars and has their usual ready for them before they can even make their way to the front of the bar, and they give him a grateful smile and a generous tip. Art supply money, he muses, pocketing the bills.
Then, even above the ear-splitting music and rowdy crowd, Luhan hears the soft clink of ice against glass and a sigh. Luhan turns to find a man leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of coke.
He’s attractive, Luhan thinks, but he looks incredibly sullen; there’s a deep frown on his face and his brows are furrowed, eyes glaring at the half empty glass of coke in front of him. Luhan frowns a little. He’s definitely too young to be looking like he’s turned against the world.
He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but Luhan promptly fills a glass with beer before sliding it over to the man. When the stranger looks up at him, curious and a little taken aback, Luhan smiles softly.
“It’s on the house,” He tells the man and when the man doesn’t move, Luhan urges him, making a motion with his hands.
Hesitantly, the man takes the cup, lifting it a little as a small toast. ‘Cheers’, Luhan sees him mouth, a tiny smile playing on his lips but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Luhan wonders what he’d look like with a genuine smile.
Luhan finds himself squeezing through the crowds at Hongdae two weeks later, having to make a run up to his usual art store to grab a couple of supplies he’d forgotten to pick up earlier.
It’s always too crowded in the late afternoon and he regrets not dropping by earlier as he mutters ‘excuse me’ and soft apologies under his breath. He tries to worm his way through the sea of people heading in his direction, but he ends up bumping (quite hard) into somebody anyway, watching in dismay as tubes and bottles of paint roll out of the bag, spreading out across the pavement.
Apologizing quickly, Luhan bends down to pick his purchases up when the stranger bends down as well, helping to gather whatever fell out and Luhan looks up at the man, only to recognize him as the sullen stranger from Kris’s bar a few weeks back.
The said stranger seems to realize this too, his eyes widening with recognition.
Neither of them says a word, and the stranger hands his paint over to him silently, his cold fingertips brushing past Luhan’s palms, and leaving burning trails in its wake. Luhan mutters a soft thank you as he dumps the tubes unceremoniously back into the bag and the man shakes his head, backing up a little before giving Luhan a curt bow and turning the other direction.
Luhan watches for a minute as the man walks away, his eyes fixed on the retreating cream coat before he breaks into a run, squeezing past bodies and bumping shoulders with strangers.
“Hey!” He calls out, but the man doesn’t hear so Luhan tries again. “Hey!”
He grabs onto the man’s hand when he’s in reach and for a second, Luhan marvels at how soft the man’s hands are.
“I-You,“ Luhan starts, and he already feels like smacking himself for being the epitome of smooth. The stranger stares at him blankly, but doesn’t make to pry Luhan’s hands of his.
"It's cold, I'm cold and you look like you're cold too and maybe you would- I don't know. Maybe you'd like to grab a drink? With me?"
The stranger continues to stare blankly for a moment and Luhan feels utterly stupid. He makes to apologize, but the other man beats him to it. "Sure," he hears him say above the sound of the busy streets.
Luhan grins.
They find a small cafe tucked away in a narrow street.
Luhan orders for the both of them - One chocolate latte with a brownie on the side for himself and an Americano for his companion- and steals glances while he waits for their order.
The said man sits quietly at their table, bag leaning against the side of his chair while he looks around the cafe curiously and Luhan turns away when the man's gaze lands on him. He feels a flush creep up his neck and he wills it away, praying his face isn't as red as he thinks it might be. He brings their food back to the table when it's done and the blond man thanks him with a small smile, helping him with the tray as he settles.
Luhan feels the stranger's fingers brush across his hand again-- it's gentle, barely there, but Luhan feels his skin tingling where the man's cool fingers ran across the back of his fingers. He gulps and shifts in his seat a little, bringing the mug of hot chocolate to his lips.
They don't talk for a while, both sipping at their drinks and occasionally glancing at each other while soft music plays in the cafe. It's warm and cozy and Luhan smiles softly, feeling warm and content. Setting his half empty cup down, he turns to look at the man sitting across him only to find that the man had been watching him as well.
Luhan considers saying something, but his companion beats him to it. "My name's Sehun." he says, stretching a hand out. "Oh Sehun."
"Sehun." Luhan repeats after him. It feels a little better, knowing his companion's name. His lips stretch into a smile and he accepts Sehun's hand. "My name's Luhan."
Sehun nods in understanding. "Do you- Do you work as a full time bartender at the club?"
Luhan laughs softly, shaking his head. "Only on weekends when Kris really needs my help. I paint, mostly. How about you? Do you visit the club often? I've never seen you around."
It's Sehun's turn to shake his head. "I teach. Dance."
"You must be good then," Luhan grins. "Though I didn’t see you at the dance floor the other day."
"I'm alright," Sehun mummers, shuffling in his seat. His cheeks redden just a little. “I didn't feel particularly well that day." They lapse into silence once again and Luhan hums as he brings the cup of chocolate latte to his lips, taking small sips each time.
He takes this time to observe Sehun's little gestures, the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips every now and then, or to lick away the stray drops of coffee from the corner of his mouth. He stifles a laugh when Sehun's face turns red after noticing his stare.
"Well," Luhan starts. "I hope to be able to see you dance one day, maybe?"
Sehun's visibly startled at the request, but he simpers.
Luhan doesn’t know how long they sat at the café or how long he’d been not so subtly staring at Sehun for, but the next thing he know is that it’s nearly seven and Sehun’s hastily gathering his belongings.
“I’m sorry, but I just have this class in a couple of minutes and-“ Sehun tells him and Luhan shakes his head, making to gather his bag and purchases as well. His hip bumps against the small coffee table, making the teaspoon rattle in the empty mug.
“No biggie,” Luhan replies simply. It’s getting late anyway, and he really ought to be back home. “It was nice though, this. Nice.”
Sehun’s lips tug up at the corners. “Do you need help with your bags?” He offers instead, and Luhan shakes his head.
“It’s fine, my place is close by the station so.”
Sehun nods and holds the door open for him. Luhan curses when the cold air hits his face and shivers a little in the breeze. He's never liked the cold seasons.
“I’ll be going this way then,” Sehun says, pointing in the opposite direction and Luhan’s heart falls a little. Maybe it had been too much to hope to walk together, suddenly feeling like a high schooler with a crush.
“I’m… the other way.”
“Well then, thank you, for well. It was nice.”
Luhan hums in agreement. “Nice, well. It was nice meeting you too, Sehun.” He fumbles with the bags in his hands and offers his hand. Sehun blinks once, dazed, before smiling and taking it.
Sehun’s hands are big and warm; firm but gentle all at the same time. Luhan realizes that the other man’s hand is big enough to swallow his own. Neither make a move to let go first, but ultimately Sehun pulls away.
“I’ll… see you around? Maybe?” He starts, cheeks flushed with a pretty pink.
“Yeah,” Luhan laughs and Sehun flushes even more, tugging his red knitted scarf up to his nose. He waves one last goodbye before he turns on his heels, watching Sehun blend into the evening crowd.
Suddenly feeling colder, Luhan sighs and turns to walk home, when he hears Sehun’s voice again. He turns to find a flushed man running towards him, the ends of his red scarf flapping wildly about behind him and Luhan muses that it might be one of the most ridiculous things he’d ever seen.
Sehun’s out of breath by the time he reaches Luhan and Luhan bites back a comment about a dancer’s stamina. He watches as the blonde man fishes about in his coat, pulling out a small scrap of paper before scribbling on it hastily.
Gently, Sehun tugs Luhan’s hand and places it in the center of his palm, folding his fingers over it carefully.
"I have a small studio here- Hongdae, near here. It's small, but it's pretty good and. Yeah." Sehun says, breath coming out in small white puffs in the cold winter air. His hand is warm in Luhan's and Luhan thinks that Sehun looks especially good with pink dusting across his cheekbones.
"If-" Sehun stammers. "If you'd like, maybe. You could just pop by. I'm there most of the time so if you'd like to see- well. I'd like to- I hope to see you around." Sehun tells him, before slipping his hand out of Luhan's and walking away briskly, with hasty goodbyes spilling from his lips.
Luhan stares at Sehun’s retreating form, as if in a daze. He snaps out of it minutes later and looks down at the piece of paper Sehun had left him-his number, studio address and a smiley face messily written on white.
For nearly three weeks, Luhan doesn't touch his brushes. He doesn't paint. The tubes he got from the art store down in Hongdae lie on the table of his studio, untouched and his canvases clean.
He sits at the edge of his bed, legs crossed under him while he sketches furiously onto his sketchbook, graphite from his pencil staining the side of his hand grey. For days, the image of Sehun had refused to leave his mind, and even in his dreams he'd seen the boy. So he draws. Page after page he draws. Sehun, Sehun, Sehun. Luhan wonders if it borders on obsession and he groans in frustration, setting his sketchbook beside him.
Luhan hides his face in his hands, not caring if the graphite smears on his face. His phone is heavy in his pocket and his fingers are just itching to reach in and dial Sehun's number. Gingerly, he looks up and stares forlornly at the scrap of paper Sehun had given him days earlier, pinned to the corkboard on his wall. It stares back at him.
He wants to phone for some backup; for some emotional aid, anything really, but Jongdae and Zitao are the worst people to talk about feelings to, Kris is too busy and Minseok is away in China for some stupid expo (how dare he leave his friend in need behind). So Luhan calls Yixing.
"So go to his studio," Yixing says gently after listening patiently to Luhan's pretty boy crisis, as he so delicately puts it. "You said that you have no balls to call him, so drop by or something, I don't know."
Luhan squints at his phone, rolling around on his bed while Yixing's voice rings through his speakers. "I don't even have the balls to call him and I should visit him?"
There's shuffling on the other side of the line and Luhan pictures his Chinese friend shrugging. "Didn't you say you were curious about his studio?"
He picks at the loose thread hanging from the hem of his worn shirt. Yixing has a point; He always has one. It's one of the things Luhan loves to hate about him. It's also how Luhan winds up walking aimlessly through small streets, shivering a little in the cold.
It takes him awhile to find Sehun’s studio-Luhan is a lost cause when it comes to directions and Google maps is being an unhelpful prick. He buys himself a drink because if he’s going to wander the streets like an orphaned child he might as well do it with a warm cup of cocoa in his hands.
The sun has long set by the time he manages to locate the building-- up on the second floor above a small boutique. Small bells tinkle when he pushes past the glass doors, and Luhan calls out once but there’s no answer.
The lights are still on and there’s still a single pair of shoes on the rack next to him, so Luhan assumes that Sehun’s still around. Quietly, he toes his sneakers off at the entrance, arranging them neatly next to the other pair on the shoe rack against the wall.
He looks around the entrance; it’s small, but not too small-just right. The walls are painted in bright, cheerful colors although Luhan spots some footprints here and there, no doubt left by playful kids.
There is a bowl of candies on the front desk, half empty, and framed pictures all around. Happy faces stare back at him as Luhan looks through them, fingers running over smooth wooden frames.
Most of the photos are with Sehun and the children he teaches, but there is one in particular that catches his eye-Sehun and another man, smiling for the camera with a bunch of kids. Sehun looked genuinely happy in this one, a stark contrast to how he looked the other day at the bar.
Before he’s able to take a closer look, a soft sob interrupts his thoughts and Luhan finds himself following the sound to a small studio. As quietly as he can, he pushes the sliding door aside, eyes falling onto the figure in the middle of the room.
Sehun’s curled up into a ball, face pressed into his arms as he cries, body shaking violently. He looks so terribly small and frightened and Luhan’s heart breaks a little. For a minute, Luhan considers walking out-it’s a private moment, something he shouldn’t have seen, and yet.
Feeling a sudden burst of courage, he takes big strides across the tiny room, dropping onto the ground before Sehun and gathers the blond man into his arms, hand cupping the back of Sehun’s head.
The other man is visibly startled and he stiffens in Luhan’s hold. Luhan vaguely wonders if he is overstepping his boundaries-he’d only just met Sehun weeks ago, barely even knew him. But as Sehun curls into Luhan, sobbing into his fleece coat, Luhan pushes those thoughts away. Instead, he starts to stroke Sehun’s hair comfortingly, occasionally running down his spine in an effort to console the younger man.
Later after Sehun calms down, Luhan takes the puffy eyed man out for dinner. The shop is a little smoky, but Luhan insists that it’s the best bbq restaurant around. (Also because it’s 10,900 won for an all you can eat dinner. Cheap is always good.)
“Barbeque cures all,” Luhan tells Sehun seriously, shoving pieces of marinated pork onto Sehun’s plate while he grills more beef for them. He beams when he while watching Sehun gobble the food up, putting more on the other man’s plate and laughing when Sehun whines about it being too much.
They don’t talk about the incident.
Luhan begins to visit more often.
Luhan learns that Sehun doesn’t dance professionally because of an incident that happened awhile back. The doctors constantly remind Sehun not to strain his legs and Sehun only smiles mirthlessly when Luhan asks why. So he does the next best thing, he watches out for Sehun.
At first, it starts out once or twice a week, when either one of them would ring each other up for a chat. Then it becomes something nearly every other day, and finally he winds up visiting Sehun’s studio every day, either when he finds himself bored at home with no inspiration to paint, or when Sehun finishes work without any evening classes to teach.
The cold of winter fades away quickly as spring nears, and from the window of Sehun’s studio, Luhan watches the flowers come in full bloom. More often than not, he finds himself going to the dance studio rather than staying in his own. He brings his sketchpads and draws caricatures of the children, watching their faces light up when they see themselves on paper.
They start to call him a magician and he learns their names; learns to recognize their faces and smile as they wave goodbye when their parents pick them up in the evening after classes.
Dinner becomes a routine for the both of them. They like to argue over who gets to pay for dinner, but end up splitting anyway. The bubble tea after dinner though, is always Sehun’s treat. (Not like he could say no to Luhan’s pouty face and whines.)
Sometimes, Sehun follows Luhan to Kris’s bar and hangs around till Luhan gets off work so that he can walk the other man home. Luhan appreciates the sweet gesture, but gives the girls who flirt with Sehun the stink eye and glares holes at Sehun until the other man declines their invitations and offers.
Sometimes, Sehun ends up staying over at Luhan’s place and they watch re-runs on television before squeezing onto Luhan’s single bed, whispering goodnights as Sehun tucks Luhan’s head under his chin and as Luhan throws a leg over Sehun’s waist.
They wake up in the morning with Sehun half off the bed and Luhan gripping onto Sehun’s arm like his life depended on it.
Sehun’s first meeting with Luhan's friends winds up a disaster. Too much Jongdae and too much alcohol, he thinks. Sehun had gotten along swell with the gang, talking easily with Kris, Minseok, Zitao and Yixing, but Jongdae had been a whole other story.
‘Luhan’s pretty boy crisis’ had been brought up and was the cause of most of Luhan’s grief and Jongdae’s pain that night, though Sehun had been plenty amused.
He still paints.
More recently, Luhan finds himself enamored with flowers and things in motion-dancers. He paints and paints with stars in his eyes and love in every stroke. He dreams of blond hair and sleepy eyes; of fingers that leave warmth spreading under his skin. Luhan dreams of love and wonder; He dreams of Sehun.
Joonmyun comes by when Luhan calls him. He takes a few minutes to go through Luhan’s recent works and smiles at him.
“It’s lighter now, brighter with more emotion.” The young curator says, appraising his work. Luhan laughs, light and airy. “Something good happened recently, I presume.” There’s a knowing smile and a mischievous light in the younger man’s eyes.
“Yeah well, I’ve found somebody I love.” He explains and Joonmyun laughs softly, looking older than his years. He tells Luhan that he’s interested in starting up a gallery for him, and they work out plans for it.
Sehun’s absolutely ecstatic when Luhan breaks the news to him, congratulating him by buying top-grade beef back home for dinner one night. Luhan whines about it being over the top but ends up eating a little more than half, much to Sehun’s amusement.
That one evening in winter is never brought up.
Luhan doesn’t mind-Sehun will tell him when the time is right, but for now, he’s satisfied. Sehun opens up to him a little more each day, just like a flower in bloom, and Luhan finds himself falling harder and harder with every little bit of Sehun that’s revealed to him. Luhan keeps moments with Sehun close to his heart, their secrets tucked away like little gems meant to be treasured and loved.
He runs his fingers across Sehun’s cheek while the other sleeps in his arms, and brings his hand up to kiss Sehun’s fingertips one by one. He watches as the frown on Sehun’s lips smoothes out, as the creases on his face disappear.
They aren’t lovers, not really. Luhan doesn’t know what they are, but he’s too afraid to ask; too afraid to break what they have between them. So he’ll wait, he decides.
He’ll wait.
Sehun’s dance studio is rarely closed before seven, so to find it empty and locked down on a Wednesday afternoon worries Luhan a little.
Unsettled, Luhan texts Sehun and waits for him at their usual bubble tea café, but as day turns to night with no replies and no sign of a familiar head of blond hair anywhere, Luhan gives up and decides on going to Sehun’s house instead.
He lets himself in with the set of keys Sehun had made for him two months earlier, kicking off his shoes and peeling his socks off. The apartment is dark, save for the yellow light from the lampposts outside seeping through the cracks between the curtains.
“Sehun?” He tries, fumbling about for a switch and sighing in relief as his hand comes in contact with one. “Sehun-ah.” He calls out again. No response.
Sighing, he makes his way through the small apartment. Luhan makes a note to tell Sehun to clean up-it looks like a mess, papers strewn about and boxes left unopened. It smells a little musty, as though everything had been stored away for a long time. He wrinkles his nose.
He trips over boxes twice before managing to make it to Sehun’s bedroom, thankfully unscathed. Sehun’s living room, kitchen and bathroom had been empty, so the only place left to hide in was his bedroom. Luhan holds his breath as he pushes open the rickety wooden door and lets it out when he finds Sehun curled up into a lump beneath his favorite quilt.
Luhan shuffles his way into the cramped room, kneeling at Sehun’s bedside. The younger man is asleep, but Luhan notices the dried tear tracks down his flushed cheeks and instinctively brings his hand up to wipe them away. Sehun leans into his touch.
Gently, he brings his hand upwards to check for a fever and is relieved when there is none. Luhan makes to leave, but the photo frame clutched in Sehun’s hands catches his eye.
He pries it away gingerly, swiping his thumb over the glass where Sehun’s face is-he’s happy, as happy as he was in the photo at the studio. Again, it’s with the same man from before and Luhan’s heart hurts just a little. All of a sudden, Luhan feels like an intruder once again, like he had stumbled on something he wasn’t meant to see, and the frame feels heavy in his hands.
(He wonders if he had ever made Sehun that happy.)
Quickly, he sets it down on the bedside table. His stomach drops and he feels incredibly queasy. It’s a terrible feeling, he thinks. Luhan turns to leave, but he feels a tug on the ends of his coat.
"Stay," Sehun whispers in the dark and as if in a trance, Luhan nods. He shrugs off his coat and shimmies out of his day clothes, sliding into bed with Sehun and the younger man winds his arms around Luhan's waist, pressing his body flush against Luhan's and tucking his face into the crook of Luhan's neck.
Luhan suddenly feels warm all over, and god. The smell of Sehun's cologne invades his senses and he thinks the dancer is too close but yes, yes, yes it feels so good and he wraps his own arms around Sehun's frame, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.
His reverie, however, is broken when he hears Sehun mutter 'Jongin' in his sleep, and the name floats around in his mind for the rest of the night.
If Sehun is surprised by Luhan’s presence next to him when he wakes the next morning, he doesn’t show it.
Instead, he beams and greets Luhan, despite his puffy eyes and red nose. The frames and pictures from the night before are hastily packed out of sight, tissues thrown away.
He knows it’s unfair to pin expectations on Sehun-when he first understood the extent to which he fell for the younger dancer, he had agreed not to force Sehun into anything. He told himself he’d wait. So Luhan washes up and exits the tiny room, to find that Sehun had cooked them up a nice, big breakfast-scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and pancakes on the side.
Breakfast is a quiet affair; the only noises are the honks from disgruntled drivers in the early morning, and the soft sizzle of bacon when it hits the pan. Silence is usually comfortable when Luhan is around Sehun, but Luhan only feels suffocated this time round and excuses himself to the toilet.
“The toast will be out in a minute,” Sehun says, breaking the silence. His voice is husky, a little rough and Luhan vaguely wonders if it was because he was crying the night before.
“Thanks,” is Luhan’s only reply as he drags the a chair out from under the table. The chime of the toaster alerts Sehun to the bread and he carefully removes them, placing them onto a plate.
Luhan waits for him to settle before he starts to dig in.
He feels Sehun’s gaze on him as he eats, biting into the warm toast. “You’re awfully quiet today,”
“I don’t feel too well,” Luhan lies, and immediately regrets it when Sehun leans over the table to press the back of his hand against Luhan’s forehead. His touch burns, and Luhan moves further away.
Sehun frowns.
“Well, you aren’t running a fever. Maybe a cold? Do you want to see a doctor? I can come with you if you’d like.”
Luhan shakes his head. “I’ll be fine with a little rest.”
Hurriedly, Luhan scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and gathers his things, declining Sehun’s offer to rest at his place for the day. He doesn’t turn back when he leaves. He doesn’t want to see Sehun staring back at him with those sad, red-rimmed eyes.
He can’t.
Luhan avoids Sehun like the plague.
He won’t deny it, not when it’s blatantly obvious. He ignores Sehun’s text messages and stays over at Yixing’s, sulking and eating ice cream by the tubs. He loses himself in his paintings, only to trash them all in the end.
Jongdae complains about the lack of Sehun-ism and its after effects on Luhan’s sanity. Or lack thereof. For once, Luhan doesn’t argue with Jongdae.
Curious, he checks his phone once, scrolling through Sehun’s messages from earlier that week until he reaches the most recent one, sent just this morning. ‘Hyung.’ It reads, short and simple, but it makes Luhan’s heart ache and crumble into tiny shards and he buries himself under the sheets for the rest of the day.
Evidently, Sehun has had enough of Luhan’s antics, because he shows up at Kris’s bar one night while he’s working.
Luhan’s certain Kris had something to do with it, considering the younger man had been pestering Luhan to help out at the bar for a few days now. It can’t be any coincidence that Sehun shows up when he’s working, it just can’t.
His heart speeds up when Sehun’s eyes land on him and he watches Sehun stalk towards him. Panicking, Luhan flees, haphazardly tossing his shaker onto the counter as he begs Jongdae to cover for him.
He manages to hide himself in the staff bathroom for a good half hour before Jongdae comes in to complain about Luhan ditching him.
By some miracle, Luhan thinks, Sehun doesn’t approach him. He still feels the burn of Sehun’s gaze on him and occasionally sneaks glances at the blond man at the other end of the bar, but he’s glad that Sehun’s keeping his distance.
Until he realizes that Sehun had been deliberately waiting it out.
As the hours trickle by, the crowd thins out until Sehun and the staff are the only ones left in the bar. Kris had very graciously patted Luhan in the back, kindly informing him that he’d be on cleanup for that night.
His heart races as he watches the rest of the crew pack their bags and say their goodbyes. Sehun is still seated at the end of the table, slender fingers fumbling around with the glass in his hands. The doors of the club click shut and Luhan knows everybody else has gone home for the night.
Luhan bites his lip, going back to arranging shot glasses in their rightful place. He bides his time, working as slow as he possibly could as he prays and prays that Sehun would leave quickly and spare them both awkward conversations.
Sehun doesn’t.
Instead, he slides off the bar stool and walks behind the counter, curling his fingers around Luhan’s thin wrist, earning an undignified yelp from the older man. Luhan begins to protest as Sehun drags him out of the little booth.
"I don't dance, Sehun." Luhan argues weakly, trying to tug his wrist out of Sehun's grip but to no avail. "I'm tired and you have class tomorrow. Let's just go home and-"
Sehun stops when they reach the center of the dance floor and he intertwines Luhan's fingers with his own, guiding Luhan's right hand to his shoulder while he rests his own on Luhan's waist and starts to move slowly.
Luhan stares blankly at Sehun who stares back, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his brow furrows a little. "That night when you came over," He starts. "I closed the studio because I was visiting somebody I cared about."
The club is relatively quiet, save for the soft music Chanyeol always puts on after a long day of work. (“To relax,” the dj explains.) Luhan stops struggling. He hears the blood rush in his ears and his heart beats wildly against his chest but he lets out a soft sigh and rests his head on Sehun's shoulder, nudging his neck with his nose, encouraging Sehun to go on.
"The man in the pictures- His name was Kim Jongin, he was my first love, the man who I shared my dreams with. He.. He isn’t around anymore."
Sehun takes a shaky breath in but Luhan presses comforting kisses down his jaw, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as an sign to continue.
"We met in middle school- he transferred into my class in the second year, new kid but everybody loved him. I didn't at first,” He laughs shakily. “But he wormed his way into my life, and he had me join his little dance group."
"It was the two of us versus the world from then on, and it was for a very long time. After high school, we went to study on to dance and we eventually moved in together and started up our little dance studio. I was happy, then. We both were, but it didn't last. We- We got into an accident. I was left unable to strain myself and he- he didn't make it. When I woke up in the hospital two weeks later, they’d told me- They told me he died upon impact. He saved me."
“Three years later, I met you.”
"The very first time I saw you, and that day when you visited the studio, when it was closed, I visited his grave. I always do, every year. I- I told him, told him everything that had happened recently, told him about you."
Luhan looks up at him and Sehun's eyes are a little glossy. They stop dancing and Luhan moves his hands up to cup Sehun's cheeks, brushing away the tears that roll down his cheeks.
"I told him how happy you make me. I told him that he'll always hold a special place in my heart, but I love you, Luhan. I really do love you. I love you so much I don't know what to do with myself and I- God. I just want to hold you tightly and kiss you and make you as happy as you make me."
“I want to be able to go to sleep with you safe and sound in my arms and wake up to your kisses. I want to be able to hold your hand when you’re happy and comfort you when you're down. I want to be able to be with you and to love you and I-“ Sehun chokes.
Luhan bites his lower lip and he doesn't notice that he's crying until Sehun's wiping away his tears with his thumb, and Luhan laughs, bringing Sehun closer until their lips are nearly touching.
“Yes,” Luhan whispers. “Yes, yes, Sehun. Yes.”
It's a soft kiss, just a press of lips against lips, but Luhan pours all his love into it and holds Sehun as tightly as Sehun holds him.
"I'd like to go with you,” Luhan says. “Next time.”
Sehun looks up at him from the bed, hair disheveled and surprised, as Luhan leans against the window of his- no, their- room, smiling softly at his lover.
"To the cemetery."
Sehun doesn't say anything, staring at Luhan. He bites his lower lip.
"I'd like to meet him- Jongin. He means a lot to you and I'd- I'd like to pay my respects. If you're okay with it."
Sehun blinks a couple of times, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he takes a deep breath in. He gets up from the bed slowly, making his way towards Luhan. Sehun tugs Luhan closer to him, nodding and breathing out a 'yes' against his lips.
"I'd like that," Sehun says when he pulls away, a small smile playing on his lips.
*HAPPY BELATED LUNAR NEW YEAR
*where are all the hunhan fics these days ꒰•̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ ﹏ •̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥๑꒱