[sehun/luhan] breathe me in (i'm yours to keep)
breathe me in (i’m yours to keep)
sehun/luhan; pg; 6750w
‘once we dreamt we were strangers. we wake up to find that we were dear to each other.’ reincarnation!au.
warning for repeated character death.
☆
there are so many reasons, sehun thinks. parallel universes. the butterfly effect. destiny. reincarnation. and yet only one word sticks in his mind.
soulmates.
for some reason, they are bound together, sealed together, sworn together - they drift together unconsciously in several lifetimes, always finding each other despite the problem of distance and time.
☆
4091: the world has fallen apart
in their first lifetime he can remember, the world is ending. isn’t it ironic, that his memory should begin only at the finish line?
the world is dying. the mayans’ prediction has come true, albeit a few millennia late, but it is happening. the sun has burnt a hole in the ozone layer, a black hole in a universe full of stars. crops are withering away in the intense heat, people starving or collapsing from heatstroke. new diseases are breaching lowered defenses, spreading even faster than the wildfire that burns across dry leaves and rough branches.
sehun is running, fleeing from the inevitable, even as he acknowledges the futility of the entire exercise. he looks around at the deserted street before whipping into an abandoned shopping mall, ducking into one of the shops on the first floor and settling down for the night. fear makes people turn on one another, killing and maiming, and sehun has had too many close shaves with death to want to venture out of this safe haven any time soon. his parents are long dead, having starved themselves to feed him and his brother, and his brother himself lies alone in their house, gradually wasting away from yet another viral mutation none of them have any idea how to treat.
(‘leave,’ his brother chokes even as blood spurts from his open mouth and stains his grey shirt, previously white. ‘leave before the illness gets you, too.’)
night doesn’t fall anymore, the earth trapped permanently in a sort of haze the color of sienna, but sehun glances at the battered watch on his wrist that used to be his father’s and realizes that it is already seven in the evening. time to eat, his stomach growls at him as he reaches into the old rucksack he carries around with him, the rucksack that holds all his worldly possessions.
truth be told, he has nothing to his name. merely an old jacket he relies on for warmth, a spare shirt he uses as a pillow for his head, a grubby-looking spoon, three cans of pineapple pilfered from a looted grocery store, a rusted knife and a family photograph he nicked on the way out. opening one of the cans, sehun digs the spoon in eagerly and scoops out a slice of pineapple, biting into it carefully and making sure none of the juice spills. when he’s finished with the slice, he licks the spoon clean before sticking it back into the can, rationing his supplies until he finds more.
he’s just bundled his shirt up and laid it on the ground when he hears footsteps, small and light but fast approaching. rapidly, sehun sits up and scans his surroundings, alert and ready to run at a moment’s notice. he’s had unpleasant run-ins with street gangs and other runaways and although he had managed to fight his way out of tight spots due to his skill with the knife and a certain bit of luck and wit, he’s not eager to repeat the experience again. moving slowly with languid grace, sehun slinks into the shadows, clutching his knife tightly in his hand as he waits to see if the approaching figure will be friend or foe.
to his surprise, a small face appears round the corner. the newcomer appears to be a slight boy about the same age as himself, although his eyes are large and trusting, their beauty and naiveté jarring in their ugly surroundings. he looks around warily and, upon seeing nobody, takes a long coat out of his own rucksack and lays it upon the grimy floor before curling up on it.
in five seconds, the boy is asleep and sehun is left in the shadows, so surprised he forgets to feel indignant at having his sleep space stolen.
//
a cautious acquaintance springs up in the days that follow. sehun learns that the boy’s name is lu han, and he is beautiful under the layer of sweat, tears and grime that cover his face like a second skin. he looks ethereal, like wisps of dandelion fluff that carry on the spring breeze, but he is also deadly - sehun can attest to that, having seen him unhesitatingly pump three rounds of ammunition into a street urchin that tried to attack sehun with a bloodstained cleaver.
(“i miss home,” lu han pouts one day as they dig into a shared can of baked beans. his leg rests against sehun’s, both their backs propped up against the wall, knobbly knees knocking together.
“me too,” sehun says softly, thinking of his own family all dead by now, as lu han’s must be.
“i don’t even like baked beans,” lu han continues and sehun snorts at the absurdity of their situation. lu han smiles wearily and chucks him under the chin, sehun wriggling away indignantly and trying to get lu han back.)
//
over time, they grow familiar with each other’s quirks and likes, their pet peeves and habits. sehun finds himself falling harder and faster every day, lu han’s gentle caresses and laughs chipping away at his heart until slowly, there are no defenses left, there are no more walls left standing and his heart is so painfully tender. he is only seventeen and lu han is his first love; sehun is woefully inexperienced and unsure, unsure of how to act, what to say, how to let lu han know.
it starts out with good intentions. heart fixated on protecting lu han, sehun starts refusing to let lu han venture out on his own to scavenge for food or potential weapons, insisting on himself going instead. of course, lu han’s pride doesn’t let him take that lying down, leading to many conflicts between the two.
“you’re too fucking overbearing, sehun, let me go just this once -“
“no! i won’t allow it, i won’t allow you -“
“you won’t allow me? you won’t allow me?”
tension is always rife between them, halting momentarily only when sehun gives in, wraps lu han in his arms and whispers apologies into his matted hair even as lu han nestles against him; but the next day it all begins again and sehun is at his wits’ end, so unsure of how to show lu han just how much he means to him.
//
one day it all comes to a head - sehun has been yelling, yelling so loud he thinks his voice is going to crack and lu han’s eyes are full of angry tears - and lu han storms out in his rage, leaving behind the pistol that lies on the table and sehun doesn’t go after him, choosing instead to throw himself into a rickety chair nearby and wait for his anger to subside.
this is the decision he regrets in all the lifetimes that follow. the decision that he couldn’t believe he could have been so stupid to make.
an hour later, lu han hasn’t returned. by this time, the flames of rage licking at his insides have been replaced by glaciers of fear, icy and leaden in sehun’s stomach. an hour, although meaningless when compared to the infinity of forever, is long enough for a disaster to happen in this dystopia. cautiously, he takes his knife and sneaks out, keeping a sharp eye out for lu han -
- and sehun finds him right in the middle of the street, a long blade lodged deep in his side, embedded in the soft flesh like a foreign aberration. blood pools dark and thick around lu han, whose eyes are shut even as his features twinge in pain occasionally. sehun runs to his side, falls to his knees and he is blabbering in his panic, apologies and declarations of love mixing themselves up even as hot tears fall onto lu han’s face.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” sehun cries even as he grasps lu han’s hand tight, the answering squeeze comforting him regardless of its brevity.
“i’ll find you in every lifetime we have after this. in every lifetime, i’ll find you and i won’t ever make the same mistakes again. we’ll have our happy ending, lu. i will find you. i will.” the last word is whispered, forced through gritted teeth and wet eyes.
there is one last answering squeeze, before lu han’s hand goes slack in his and falls from his grasp. lu han’s eyes remain open, blank and unseeing.
☆
1952: south korea
it’s autumn of 1952 and the korean war is in full swing, the north and south at each other’s throats. sehun’s been drafted into the army for the south along with tens of thousands of other young boys, cold feet and trembling lips and fear so rampant in their hearts even as death lurks around the corner and plays peekaboo in every air raid or landmine they tiptoe around.
south korea is becoming desperate; their inexperienced and unskilled regiment is drafted onto the frontlines and sehun sits trembling in the driver’s seat of the gargantuan tank, fingers quivering even as he grips the steering wheel and his commander yells at him, vein in his thick neck becoming more prominent.
he does not expect to walk out of this battle alive. after all, they are running low on supplies, on ammunition, on rations, on manpower. morale dips lower than ever and sehun has heard his platoonmates crying for home in the middle of the night, has heard the hair-raising screams of the injured that have been carried into the makeshift hospital right next to their tent. plagued by these morbid thoughts, sehun doesn’t hear the commander’s yell to stop, earning himself a rough slap to the back of his head.
the planned ambush is a failure - for some reason the north had been expecting it and had brought chinese reinforcements. sehun casts a wild look around and sees all of his fellow soldiers being gunned down, young lives ending in a shower of red spray and deafening shots. the horror inside him rises in a rapid crescendo, makes his knees quake even as the finger he keeps on his trigger trembles rapidly and scores him more misses than hits.
yet suddenly, inexplicably, through the noise and blood and smoke, sehun looks up and sees him. lu han is approaching with the next wave of soldiers on the northern side, helmet a little too big and it falls, obscuring his eyes even as he pushes it up rapidly. lu han is afraid, his pupils dilated and mouth clamped tightly shut even as his fingers, too, tremble.
the next few seconds seem to take an eternity. lu han looks up, as well, and for some reason his gaze meets sehun’s, parallel lines intersecting seemingly impossibly. sehun watches the spark of recognition flare in lu han’s large eyes, the little start he gives and the way his mouth falls open into a tiny ‘o’ -
- and suddenly a deafening boom splits the sky and sehun feels himself being thrown back by the force of the explosion, arms windmilling furiously even as he flies through the air with no sense of direction whatsoever. all he can see are orange flames and black smoke, the wave of heat unbearably close, the tongues of the fire licking at his ankles. stumbling up, he barely registers the dark stain spreading across his shoulder, because the sight of lu han lying there so pale and still tears him apart more effectively than anything else can.
☆
1839: england
it just so happens that in the next lifetime they spend together, they belong to different realms. sehun and his family have just moved into a mansion in the english countryside, the house having recently belonged to his just-deceased grandfather. after ensuring that his butler is safely out of the room, sehun flops onto the majestic four-poster bed, abandoning all decorum as he throws an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the sunlight that further amplifies his headache. his attempt at solitude, however, is foiled by a genteel knock on the door, tentative voice carrying even through the thick wood.
“apologies, young master oh, but it is time for dinner. your parents are already seated and are waiting for you.”
groaning, sehun drags his body off the bed, padding down his carpeted staircase to join his multi-millionaire parents in yet another extravagant meal filled with supposed delicacies he doesn’t even enjoy. as he makes his way to the stairs, however, a soft voice echoes in his mind, unbidden.
‘i don’t even like baked beans,’ it says, followed by amused laughter. and there are other images that parade themselves in his mind, too - a bloodied knife, an empty clothing store, the world on fire, and a pair of gentle brown eyes that hold the stars.
the image of the eyes is painfully familiar, and sehun is plagued by the thought of them all throughout dinner, wondering where exactly he could have seen them before. even his impassive father notices his unusual silences, repeatedly asking if he is well.
sehun nods, hardly knowing what he is responding to, before hastily choking down dinner and rushing upstairs to his room, if only to brood further on this puzzling problem.
it is a pity that there are no answers.
//
sehun is lying listlessly on the bed a few days later, staring blankly at the empty ceiling when he appears. a spectral figure that grows more solid under sehun’s astonished faze, lu han falls from the wall, waving chirpily at sehun before greeting him with a cheery ‘hello!’
sehun recognizes those eyes immediately, for death has not dulled their sparkle at all. for some reason, this puts him at ease, and he returns lu han’s greeting with a nonchalant ‘hey’.
“oh, you’re not afraid of me?” lu han looks pleasantly surprised. there is a certain lilt to his voice, soothing and calming even if his korean is slightly accented. “that’s fantastic, everyone before you was absolutely petrified. they ran screaming from me, said they were losing their minds. it’s been unbearably lonely, you know.”
- and sehun does know. having been born an only child with workaholic parents, he’s had to grow up alone. solitude instead of playmates, dreary silence instead of raucous laughter.
“i do,” he replies soflty. “but maybe we can be friends now?”
lu han smiles, and he is so pretty, warmth spreading across his face like the sun. “i’d like that.”
//
“how did you die, lu?” perhaps it is a tactless question, but sehun is young and curious and not immune to the occasional bout of insensitivity. lu han is laughing, a fragile daisy tucked into his pretty fingers, sehun’s souvenir from the outside world. upon hearing sehun’s question, however, the smile fades as quickly and gently as spring rain and his eyes glaze over, a definite wall slamming down between them and sehun feels the distance between them grow infinitely larger.
“it is not a story for today, sehun-ah.” lu han’s tone is gentle yet firm, one that allows for no more questions, and sehun is cowed.
//
they eventually settle into a routine of sorts. sehun goes to school in the day while lu han wanders off to do ghostly things (‘what sort of things?’ ‘oh, you know - hauntings, knocking on walls, creeping and spying on people.’ the effect is somewhat ruined by lu han’s leer.)
at night, both of them spend time together. sometimes lu han brings sehun around the house, showing him secret passageways (‘watch out for that step, it creaks - ah shit. now your parents are going to wake up.’) and hidden trapdoors. in return, sehun tells lu han about the world outside, shows him pictures (‘oh, they make miniature paintings now?’) and basically gives him half of his heart.
for lu han is beautiful, yes, but beyond the superficial attraction, a pull strums its way through sehun’s veins and he is insatiably curious.
have i seen you before? do i know you? am i the only one who feels this way?
//
“stop staring at me, sehun,” lu han scolds and sehun looks away rapidly, flabbergasted. the wintry sunlight falls through glass panes and renders lu han dazzling, iridescent in his translucence and sehun is helpless against the onslaught.
“sorry,” he mumbles and lu han chuckles. he leans over and grasps sehun’s chin, that habit something he has retained from the first lifetime, and it causes a pang in sehun’s heart even if he doesn’t know why. lu han’s touch is chilly, like cold water and a hint of hypothermia, but his laugh is warm and sehun closes his eyes, basking in the sound.
“silly boy,” lu han whispers. sehun opens his eyes, startled, and is faced with the distressing proximity of lu han - his eyelashes, spidery and thick; his small mouth, lips pursed; his clear skin, fair and smooth. there is a wistful smile on lu han’s face.
“silly boy, you are too good for me.”
//
ashes to ashes, dust to dust: for men are not fated to stay with ghosts, just as corporeal flesh and blood are not meant to mingle with whispers from the grave. they belong to different realms and in this lifetime they are destined to exist as parallel lines, aware of each other yet at the same time never converging.
time passes and sehun ages. now, he is old, wasted away and crippled on his deathbed; his parents have long since passed on and he has cycled through countless servants, all nameless and faceless behind starched suits and pressed skirts.
“how did you die, lu?” the same question comes again, decades later. a dying man’s last wish. a rattling cough punctuates the thick silence that follows, dust motes suspended in the sunlight that pierces the large, dark room.
perhaps lu han senses the shadow of sehun’s imminent demise lurking in the room, billowing black cloak and phantasmagorical aura, for he turns to look sehun squarely in the eye before replying with a brusque ‘old age’. however, he doesn’t stop there, words spilling almost uncontrollably and sehun feels a thrill of foreboding - now, he is not so sure he wants to know the answers to his question, not any more.
“i died of old age, but it’s not so much how i died rather than what i did in life, isn’t it? i… i killed for a living, sehun,” lu han looks haunted instead of the one doing the haunting, now.
“you might think i was forced or coerced into it, but i’m going to have to disabuse you of that notion. i enjoyed it, the bloodlust, the chase, everything. and because of that, i am condemned to an eternity in an… existence… such as this.
“there are worse fates to befall people,” lu han says softly. “but it is terribly lonely.”
sehun is horrified, staring agape at the boy he knew - the boy he thought he knew. “but if you repented - it may not be too late - right?” the last word is a plea more than a question.
“i did,” lu han replies flatly. pity has always turned him sour, and sehun is just now realizing his mistake. “that’s why i’m here and not, i don’t know, burning away in the eternal flame of hell. they were merciful, and i should be grateful.”
sehun opens his mouth to protest, to scream that there must be another way, but the words do not come. lu han regards him sadly, almost as if he knows that there is nothing to say.
even in death, they cannot be together.
☆
2012: london
it is stormy, violent and brutal and sehun is lost. the gales of wind are pounding the rooftops of the nearby houses relentlessly, howling a dismal song in his ear, and all the while sheets of rain are falling in endless torrents, feeling more like solid hail than water droplets. his puny umbrella is no match for the rain, winds spiriting it away even as he watches helplessly. now, sehun is soaked to the skin and cursing his rotten luck, ducking into a nearby coffee shop and deciding to wait out the storm, preferably with a steaming cup of coffee.
however, his stroke of bad luck persists. the entire café is filled with like-minded patrons, the small space filled to the seams. after obtaining his cappuccino - glaring at the overly cheery barista, park chanyeol, as he does so - sehun carefully maneuvers his way through the mess of assorted furniture, looking desperately for an empty spot.
thankfully, his luck has turned, for he spots an empty seat a few metres away. moving more quickly than he ever has in his life, he makes his way over. the seat opposite is already taken by a young man, hunched over drawing feverishly away on a worn sketchbook. tentatively, sehun clears his throat hoping to get his attention.
“excuse me, is this seat taken?”
the young man looks up then, startled. his eyes meet sehun’s, who instantly feels that jolt of recognition - hey it’s you, don’t i know you? - niggling and persistent. sehun can’t lie to himself when he sees a bolt of some indiscernible emotion strike in his eyes, either, almost like lightning striking dry bush aflame.
“no.” his voice is soft, as sehun had expected. he hardly knows what the man is responding to any more, so caught up in his presence. “feel free to take a seat.”
hours pass, the previous storm forgotten. they strike up light conversation and an easy acquaintance, surprisingly natural for two people who are practically strangers.
“what were you drawing?” sehun asks curiously, pointing to the sketchbook hastily set aside upon his arrival.
“here, i’ll show you,” lu han leafs open the sketchbook, thumbing through the thick pages until he reaches the drawing he was working on. on the page is a portrait of a young girl, perhaps a few years younger than them, unbelievably realistic, with the precision of a photograph.
“wow,” sehun breathes, fascinated. “it’s… it’s amazing. you’ve really got an eye for it,” he continues, looking up in time to catch lu han’s faint blush. “is she your sister, then?”
“thanks,” lu han answers shyly. “i find it easier to see in my mind’s eye than others. and no, not exactly, sometimes pictures just come to me and i draw them, you know?”
(sehun doesn’t, but he smiles and nods as if he understands, not wanting lu han to feel uncomfortable or awkward.)
“hey, you should draw me someday,” sehun jokes, hoping for lu han to agree to his offer of continued acquaintance. however, he doesn’t expect for the smile to fade from lu han’s eyes and his jaw to tighten, giving him the look of someone very stubborn.
“i’m afraid that won’t be possible,” lu han answers curtly before making a quick excuse to leave, striding determinedly out of the coffee shop. nonplussed, sehun chases after him, taking lengthy strides out of the café all while desperately trying not to lose sight of that familiar head of brown -
- only just in time to catch sight of the horror happening on the street in front of the café.
sehun realizes it is the girl from lu han’s sketchbook right before the terrifying screech of tonnes of metal upon flesh pierces his eardrums.
//
ever since that incident, sehun’s suspicions have been aroused. still, lu han doesn’t do anything to discourage his attempts at a sustained relationship and sehun soon finds himself falling fast and hard, almost with the feeling of déjà vu. perhaps this nagging feeling of familiarity is what spurs him to pursue a relationship with lu han, this insistent voice inside telling him that what they have is right. the red strings of destiny, the bond between them molded by fate herself.
it must be fate, sehun tells himself three years later even as they move into their new apartment on oxford street, lu han laughing as sehun pretends to stagger under the weight of a box. sure, lu han had objected at first, changing his number and refusing to reply to sehun’s messages. still, sehun’s dogged persistence had worn him down, lu han finally relenting and sehun immediately capitalizing upon the opportunity to worm his way into lu han’s heart.
finally, he thinks, he has found a place to stay, the flighty bird in his chest quieted as it settles and finds a home in the branches of lu han’s pale blue veins.
so many lifetimes, so many misconceptions. so many secrets.
//
sehun’s dream of a quiet future is first threatened when lu han begins his next drawing. for some reason, lu han refuses to let sehun set eyes on his sketchpad, coming up with excuses that get progressively more ridiculous.
there is a strange weight in sehun’s chest, a huge ball of apprehension-fear-anxiety-foreboding mashing together in a black hole of negativity. it feels almost as if gravity has miraculously been restored in the weightless orbit of space, an unwelcome weight dragging him down and dogging him from step to step.
bile churns in his stomach even as he swallows nervously. in his chest, the bird stirs and flaps its wings again, almost as if mocking him.
//
two weeks later, when sehun wakes up to creased sheets, a painting of himself and a handwritten note on the bedside table, he isn’t really surprised.
his last thought before the car hits him is of lu han. this round, fate has the last laugh.
☆
2014: seoul
their current lifetime is the beginning of the end.
it is spring of 2014 and in this lifetime, both of them are trainees in an infamous korean entertainment company. they strike up a fast friendship that burns brightly like a slow fire on a frigid winter night with the same ease and familiarity that has followed at their heels through the centuries like a faithful dog and a shoot of hope burgeons in sehun’s heart.
he glances at lu han beside him, throwing his head back in a laugh so raucous and ugly jongdae wanders over to push his jaw shut, and marvels at how this sight has somehow managed to grow on him over the centuries. and just at that moment lu han looks over, eyes bright and that familiar twinkle shining.
“what’s up, maknae?”
“nothing, nothing at all,” sehun is mortified at being caught staring, openly transfixed and bewitched. after all, they have never defined this connection, this relationship that teeters somewhere between friendship and something more. behind him, jongin snorts derisively and sehun kicks out in his direction. lu han looks over once more, scrutinizing him closely and sehun squirms a little under his impenetrable gaze.
“alright then.” lu han smiles gently, accepting sehun’s words. he stretches out a hand, cupping sehun’s chin in that reflexive movement even as sehun presses himself closer, head resting wearily on lu han’s shoulder. his hand creeps downward and slender fingers wind themselves through the gaps of sehun’s, thumb stroking sehun’s palm gently even as sehun wonders if he can allow himself to have this.
//
idol life is difficult. lu han doesn’t take it well, especially not when yifan leaves mysteriously right before they are scheduled to comeback with ‘wolf’. as a result, promotions are pushed back and fans cry in outrage at the delay. meanwhile, lu han worries his lip and stares blankly at interlocked fingers, even as sehun hovers awkwardly by on the sidelines and wonders what exactly to say.
“i want to leave, sehun-ah,” he whispers sometimes at night, tear tracks streaking his small face and sehun desperately wants to shout, to scream ‘no’, to keep lu han by his side forever and always as if he’s signed a second contract.
“it’ll get better, just trust me -“ the words are empty and dissipate quickly into the darkness, as vulnerable as a whisper and sehun knows it, wants so desperately to make it better and convince lu han to stay even as he knows it is no use.
sighing, lu han rolls over to face the wall instead, his back to sehun, effectively signaling the end of the conversation. a leaden weight sinks itself into sehun’s stomach.
//
sehun can’t say he isn’t expecting it this time. lu han had been wasting away right before his very eyes, the psychogenic headaches plaguing his days and interrupting his nights. quietly, he watches as lu han soldiers on despite the piercing stage lights and cacophony of shouts from the fans.
quietly, he watches as lu han wastes away, withering like a flower in the acrid july drought.
“why don’t you leave, lu?” he asks one night in the darkness of their shared room, half anticipating and half dreading lu han’s answer.
“then what would the fans do, sehunnie?” lu han’s voice is even quieter than his, small and afraid. “they would cry, they would be upset. especially since we just lost yifan.”
for this is lu han - even in times of pain and hurt, he always puts others before himself. it’s a trait that has remained throughout the centuries and sehun’s heart hurts to see it repeat itself once more in this lifetime.
“lu. hyung.” he rarely uses honorifics with lu han, because a dozen lifetimes of familiarity are enough to strip away the barriers of age and distance. it’s a pity, really, that lu han doesn’t remember any of them and sometimes reprimands him for apparent disrespect.
ignoring these thoughts, he throws off the covers and swings long legs out of the overly small bed, striding across to lu han’s side of the room. lu han looks up at the sudden rustle, watching sehun as he approaches and sehun gets lost in lu han’s eyes once again, perhaps for the last time. the moonlight shining through the small window reflects in lu han’s dark eyes and sehun thinks he can see the stars, maybe, glimmering and wavering in the wetness that floods lu han’s eyes.
“c’mon, shift over,” sehun mumbles and lu han acquiesces. sehun crawls into the tiny bed and it’s crammed but not uncomfortable, strange but not unfamiliar. lu han sighs fondly, reaching out to pull sehun closer.
“you’re getting too tall, sehun-ah. remember when we first met?”
sehun’s lips are pressed tightly together now to stop sobs from escaping, tears trickling silently down his cheeks even as he scrunches up his face, fighting hard to prevent the howl of misery from escaping.
“vaguely,” he replies with great effort, thankful that his voice doesn’t shake. “i was pretty tiny then, but so were you.”
“yeah,” from lu han’s voice alone, sehun knows he is smiling. “i miss that sometimes, sehunnie.”
it seems as if lu han is about to say more, but he is cut off by a whimper of pain even as he clutches sehun’s arm, nails piercing in that involuntary movement in a futile attempt to ward off the sudden headache and in that instant the moment ends.
//
“you should go.” the moment sehun says it he knows it is the right thing to do. love is not about yourself, it is about sacrifice. and sehun loves lu han, an undeniable fact in itself, loves him more than anything, has loved him with the same intensity since the first lifetime together, and realizes that this is perhaps the best thing to do for both of them.
loving someone doesn’t mean having them by your side all the time, it means letting them go when the time comes. this realization doesn’t hit sehun like a freight train, but rather spreads across him slowly, gradually, soothingly. and perhaps this is why they have never worked out in previous lifetimes, both alternating in their selfishness.
“hyung, you should go.” even if it hurts, sehun knows it is the right thing to do. fate may be cruel at times, but sehun has seen it give out countless second chances, a chance to redeem yourself.
he will not make the same mistake again.
//
the dorm seemed so much emptier without yifan’s tall stature looming over them, either reprimanding them for saying dumb shit or goofing around with chanyeol but now, with barely enough time for them to pick up the shattered remnants, lu han is gone too. his clothes are packed away, his iron man figurines and shoes all shipped back to china. even more noticeable is the lack of his presence, always cheerful and bubbly and inexplicably attuned to the members. nowadays the dorm lacks a gentle voice babbling away in accented korean, lacks a hyung, lacks a friend. nowadays, there is a hole in sehun’s heart.
yet judging from the occasional pictures they see of lu han while trawling the internet as well as the cheery texts he sends them, he looks much happier, much healthier. the dark circles under his eyes are gone, he has put on weight and his cheeks are fuller. sehun heaves a sigh of relief even as his heart twinges, a painful ache stabbing itself past his ribs.
//
sehun doesn’t expect the call that comes at two in the morning, exo-k stumbling back into the dorm after yet another award ceremony they’d had to sit through and look pretty, only to be slammed by unforgiving netizens the next day for unfathomable reasons nitpicked out of thin air. baekhyun gropes his way into the bathroom wordlessly, too exhausted to turn on the light as chanyeol follows, shaking his head to get rid of the fog of sleep. sehun simply sits back on his bed and lets the hyungs go ahead, phone clutched between long fingers as he absentmindedly scrolls through instagram and weibo.
suddenly, however, his phone lights up and lu han’s face appears on the screen. sehun’s finger hovers over the ‘reject’ button, but against his better judgement he hurriedly jabs ‘answer’ and pretends not to see junmyeon’s questioning look from across the room.
“hello?”
“hey, sehunnie, hey.”
the shard of ice, that strange lump in his throat, that foreign weight on his heart - all these melt away at the sound of that familiar voice, warm tones of affection and maybe even love.
“hey.” he replies with the same ease.
maybe now, we can try.
☆
indefinite time, indefinite place, definite happiness
sehun sits quietly on his favorite sofa in the living room, watching as his favorite person in the entire universe frets and runs around as frantically as a chicken bound for slaughter, and knows it.
“lu, you’ve prepared everything. you’ve double-checked, triple-checked everything. you’re fine. we’re fine. come on,” sehun ventures softly once the manic look in lu han’s eyes deepens. “come back here and sit down, yeah? we can call for takeout, watch some television, relax. okay?”
“okay,” lu han finally breathes after a beat of silence and sehun relaxes, not having realized that he had tensed up before. luhan exhales, shakily, and sehun can hear the tremor, the hitch in his breath, slow and shuddery. sure enough, lu han’s worries are spilling from his mouth before long, filling the air with his trepidation and anxiety.
“but i’m so scared, sehunnie. i know we talked about adoption for a long time, but now that we’re taking ziyu home from the orphanage tomorrow i can’t help imagining all these worst-case scenarios: what if he doesn’t like us, or thinks that it’s weird to grow up with two fathers, or wants to go home -”
“he won’t.” sehun’s rarely sure of anything in this tempestuous whirlwind of a life, but there is one thing of which he can be drop-dead certain.
“he’ll love you, lu. because you’re amazing and you’re prepared for this, okay? remember all those parenting seminars you dragged us to, and those books you made us read?” sehun spreads his arms and lu han collapses into them, nuzzling into the familiar warmth even as he breaths in the same comforting scent, listening to the steadiness of sehun’s heartbeat. sehun relishes in the warm weight, resting his chin on lu han’s soft hair as he closes his eyes and basks in the warm glow of just being together, two pieces finding their other half.
“we’ve tried our best,” sehun finishes softly, arms encircling lu han protectively like a thicket of branches, squeezing him gently before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. lu han squeezes back, arms winding around sehun’s waist, burrowing deeper into the familiar warmth that feels so right, almost like déjà vu.
they eventually do end up calling for takeout - japanese, because lu han kicks up a fuss about becoming a parent the next day (‘i’m not ready to give up my soccer nights! think about the responsibility, sehun-ah’) and sehun is only too glad for any excuse to indulge him - and watching reruns of old movies on tv, enjoying their last night of freedom.
(‘wait, and you think i’ve had any experience in being a dad?’ sehun’s incredulity is evident in the raised tones of his voice.
lu han thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. there’s a cheeky twinkle in his eye sehun’s grown familiar with and spells trouble.
‘nah. too childish. some days i still have to nag you to do the laundry and even then you don’t separate the darks from the whites.’
‘hey!’
he should have known.)
when the movie ends, sehun gets up and stretches before lazily pointing the remote at the bright television screen, waiting for it to dim before padding quietly to the bedroom to catch up with lu han.
they brush up quietly and sehun revels in this calm placidity, watching lu han as he splashes water briefly on his face and dries off with a fluffy towel. in this lifetime, lu han’s always had a thing for taking care of his skin, even more than he did in the lifetime they spent together as idols. what’s funny, though, is that he often complains about others calling him feminine-looking and girly, but doesn’t see the irony in it. sehun doesn’t question it, just accepts it as one of the countless contradictions that makes up lu han.
lu han’s dressed in sehun’s college shirt, the one that’s too big for him and hangs off his shoulders but he loves because it reminds him of sehun, whose heart swells so large it feels almost as if it’s going to burst in the next minute or so. lu han beams at him once he catches sehun staring in the mirror, and sehun is for the millionth time caught up in the radiance of that smile, the same brilliance that ensnared him the first time, the same brilliance that he will fall for even when the sky collapses (perhaps again). they stumble into bed in darkness because lu han’s too lazy to turn on the light, stubbing toes on furniture with many whispered curses before finally collapsing onto the soft mattress.
“sehunnie?” lu han’s amusement is evident in his voice, even though the moonlight doesn’t reach sehun’s side of the bed and he’s practically running blind. still, the sound of lu han’s voice is so familiar - his guiding light so incandescent even in this blackness - and he knows that he will follow it for eternity, making his home in the dips and crests of lu han’s laugh.
“yeah?”
“goodnight,” lu han’s voice is surprisingly tender, soft and vulnerable. the sort of voice that only a lover knows. “i love you.”
sehun swallows past the lump in his throat. “goodnight. i love you too,” he whispers. words they have repeated so many times, but have never lost their meaning.
tomorrow, the cycle breaks. tomorrow, it is a new beginning. they might no longer have forever - who knows what happens once the cycle breaks? - but for sehun, this lifetime of happiness is more than enough.
sehun tangles his legs together with lu han’s, exhales and shuts his eyes. beside him, lu han reaches out and tangles his fingers with his own, somehow finding sehun’s slim fingers even in this darkness. they fall asleep like this, linked.
bound.
fin.
+ i said i would stop writing selu lmao ok dat funny whY DO I THINK I CAN WRITE THEM. this took 2 months, rip me
+ idol!au was the main point of the fic tbh it’s all i wanted to write. but ya all these were selu plotbunnies i was too lazy to write separately
+ title from fall for you by secondhand serenade.
+ hit me up on twitter! @NAMSHINS
sehun/luhan; pg; 6750w
‘once we dreamt we were strangers. we wake up to find that we were dear to each other.’ reincarnation!au.
warning for repeated character death.
☆
there are so many reasons, sehun thinks. parallel universes. the butterfly effect. destiny. reincarnation. and yet only one word sticks in his mind.
soulmates.
for some reason, they are bound together, sealed together, sworn together - they drift together unconsciously in several lifetimes, always finding each other despite the problem of distance and time.
☆
4091: the world has fallen apart
in their first lifetime he can remember, the world is ending. isn’t it ironic, that his memory should begin only at the finish line?
the world is dying. the mayans’ prediction has come true, albeit a few millennia late, but it is happening. the sun has burnt a hole in the ozone layer, a black hole in a universe full of stars. crops are withering away in the intense heat, people starving or collapsing from heatstroke. new diseases are breaching lowered defenses, spreading even faster than the wildfire that burns across dry leaves and rough branches.
sehun is running, fleeing from the inevitable, even as he acknowledges the futility of the entire exercise. he looks around at the deserted street before whipping into an abandoned shopping mall, ducking into one of the shops on the first floor and settling down for the night. fear makes people turn on one another, killing and maiming, and sehun has had too many close shaves with death to want to venture out of this safe haven any time soon. his parents are long dead, having starved themselves to feed him and his brother, and his brother himself lies alone in their house, gradually wasting away from yet another viral mutation none of them have any idea how to treat.
(‘leave,’ his brother chokes even as blood spurts from his open mouth and stains his grey shirt, previously white. ‘leave before the illness gets you, too.’)
night doesn’t fall anymore, the earth trapped permanently in a sort of haze the color of sienna, but sehun glances at the battered watch on his wrist that used to be his father’s and realizes that it is already seven in the evening. time to eat, his stomach growls at him as he reaches into the old rucksack he carries around with him, the rucksack that holds all his worldly possessions.
truth be told, he has nothing to his name. merely an old jacket he relies on for warmth, a spare shirt he uses as a pillow for his head, a grubby-looking spoon, three cans of pineapple pilfered from a looted grocery store, a rusted knife and a family photograph he nicked on the way out. opening one of the cans, sehun digs the spoon in eagerly and scoops out a slice of pineapple, biting into it carefully and making sure none of the juice spills. when he’s finished with the slice, he licks the spoon clean before sticking it back into the can, rationing his supplies until he finds more.
he’s just bundled his shirt up and laid it on the ground when he hears footsteps, small and light but fast approaching. rapidly, sehun sits up and scans his surroundings, alert and ready to run at a moment’s notice. he’s had unpleasant run-ins with street gangs and other runaways and although he had managed to fight his way out of tight spots due to his skill with the knife and a certain bit of luck and wit, he’s not eager to repeat the experience again. moving slowly with languid grace, sehun slinks into the shadows, clutching his knife tightly in his hand as he waits to see if the approaching figure will be friend or foe.
to his surprise, a small face appears round the corner. the newcomer appears to be a slight boy about the same age as himself, although his eyes are large and trusting, their beauty and naiveté jarring in their ugly surroundings. he looks around warily and, upon seeing nobody, takes a long coat out of his own rucksack and lays it upon the grimy floor before curling up on it.
in five seconds, the boy is asleep and sehun is left in the shadows, so surprised he forgets to feel indignant at having his sleep space stolen.
//
a cautious acquaintance springs up in the days that follow. sehun learns that the boy’s name is lu han, and he is beautiful under the layer of sweat, tears and grime that cover his face like a second skin. he looks ethereal, like wisps of dandelion fluff that carry on the spring breeze, but he is also deadly - sehun can attest to that, having seen him unhesitatingly pump three rounds of ammunition into a street urchin that tried to attack sehun with a bloodstained cleaver.
(“i miss home,” lu han pouts one day as they dig into a shared can of baked beans. his leg rests against sehun’s, both their backs propped up against the wall, knobbly knees knocking together.
“me too,” sehun says softly, thinking of his own family all dead by now, as lu han’s must be.
“i don’t even like baked beans,” lu han continues and sehun snorts at the absurdity of their situation. lu han smiles wearily and chucks him under the chin, sehun wriggling away indignantly and trying to get lu han back.)
//
over time, they grow familiar with each other’s quirks and likes, their pet peeves and habits. sehun finds himself falling harder and faster every day, lu han’s gentle caresses and laughs chipping away at his heart until slowly, there are no defenses left, there are no more walls left standing and his heart is so painfully tender. he is only seventeen and lu han is his first love; sehun is woefully inexperienced and unsure, unsure of how to act, what to say, how to let lu han know.
it starts out with good intentions. heart fixated on protecting lu han, sehun starts refusing to let lu han venture out on his own to scavenge for food or potential weapons, insisting on himself going instead. of course, lu han’s pride doesn’t let him take that lying down, leading to many conflicts between the two.
“you’re too fucking overbearing, sehun, let me go just this once -“
“no! i won’t allow it, i won’t allow you -“
“you won’t allow me? you won’t allow me?”
tension is always rife between them, halting momentarily only when sehun gives in, wraps lu han in his arms and whispers apologies into his matted hair even as lu han nestles against him; but the next day it all begins again and sehun is at his wits’ end, so unsure of how to show lu han just how much he means to him.
//
one day it all comes to a head - sehun has been yelling, yelling so loud he thinks his voice is going to crack and lu han’s eyes are full of angry tears - and lu han storms out in his rage, leaving behind the pistol that lies on the table and sehun doesn’t go after him, choosing instead to throw himself into a rickety chair nearby and wait for his anger to subside.
this is the decision he regrets in all the lifetimes that follow. the decision that he couldn’t believe he could have been so stupid to make.
an hour later, lu han hasn’t returned. by this time, the flames of rage licking at his insides have been replaced by glaciers of fear, icy and leaden in sehun’s stomach. an hour, although meaningless when compared to the infinity of forever, is long enough for a disaster to happen in this dystopia. cautiously, he takes his knife and sneaks out, keeping a sharp eye out for lu han -
- and sehun finds him right in the middle of the street, a long blade lodged deep in his side, embedded in the soft flesh like a foreign aberration. blood pools dark and thick around lu han, whose eyes are shut even as his features twinge in pain occasionally. sehun runs to his side, falls to his knees and he is blabbering in his panic, apologies and declarations of love mixing themselves up even as hot tears fall onto lu han’s face.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” sehun cries even as he grasps lu han’s hand tight, the answering squeeze comforting him regardless of its brevity.
“i’ll find you in every lifetime we have after this. in every lifetime, i’ll find you and i won’t ever make the same mistakes again. we’ll have our happy ending, lu. i will find you. i will.” the last word is whispered, forced through gritted teeth and wet eyes.
there is one last answering squeeze, before lu han’s hand goes slack in his and falls from his grasp. lu han’s eyes remain open, blank and unseeing.
☆
1952: south korea
it’s autumn of 1952 and the korean war is in full swing, the north and south at each other’s throats. sehun’s been drafted into the army for the south along with tens of thousands of other young boys, cold feet and trembling lips and fear so rampant in their hearts even as death lurks around the corner and plays peekaboo in every air raid or landmine they tiptoe around.
south korea is becoming desperate; their inexperienced and unskilled regiment is drafted onto the frontlines and sehun sits trembling in the driver’s seat of the gargantuan tank, fingers quivering even as he grips the steering wheel and his commander yells at him, vein in his thick neck becoming more prominent.
he does not expect to walk out of this battle alive. after all, they are running low on supplies, on ammunition, on rations, on manpower. morale dips lower than ever and sehun has heard his platoonmates crying for home in the middle of the night, has heard the hair-raising screams of the injured that have been carried into the makeshift hospital right next to their tent. plagued by these morbid thoughts, sehun doesn’t hear the commander’s yell to stop, earning himself a rough slap to the back of his head.
the planned ambush is a failure - for some reason the north had been expecting it and had brought chinese reinforcements. sehun casts a wild look around and sees all of his fellow soldiers being gunned down, young lives ending in a shower of red spray and deafening shots. the horror inside him rises in a rapid crescendo, makes his knees quake even as the finger he keeps on his trigger trembles rapidly and scores him more misses than hits.
yet suddenly, inexplicably, through the noise and blood and smoke, sehun looks up and sees him. lu han is approaching with the next wave of soldiers on the northern side, helmet a little too big and it falls, obscuring his eyes even as he pushes it up rapidly. lu han is afraid, his pupils dilated and mouth clamped tightly shut even as his fingers, too, tremble.
the next few seconds seem to take an eternity. lu han looks up, as well, and for some reason his gaze meets sehun’s, parallel lines intersecting seemingly impossibly. sehun watches the spark of recognition flare in lu han’s large eyes, the little start he gives and the way his mouth falls open into a tiny ‘o’ -
- and suddenly a deafening boom splits the sky and sehun feels himself being thrown back by the force of the explosion, arms windmilling furiously even as he flies through the air with no sense of direction whatsoever. all he can see are orange flames and black smoke, the wave of heat unbearably close, the tongues of the fire licking at his ankles. stumbling up, he barely registers the dark stain spreading across his shoulder, because the sight of lu han lying there so pale and still tears him apart more effectively than anything else can.
☆
1839: england
it just so happens that in the next lifetime they spend together, they belong to different realms. sehun and his family have just moved into a mansion in the english countryside, the house having recently belonged to his just-deceased grandfather. after ensuring that his butler is safely out of the room, sehun flops onto the majestic four-poster bed, abandoning all decorum as he throws an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the sunlight that further amplifies his headache. his attempt at solitude, however, is foiled by a genteel knock on the door, tentative voice carrying even through the thick wood.
“apologies, young master oh, but it is time for dinner. your parents are already seated and are waiting for you.”
groaning, sehun drags his body off the bed, padding down his carpeted staircase to join his multi-millionaire parents in yet another extravagant meal filled with supposed delicacies he doesn’t even enjoy. as he makes his way to the stairs, however, a soft voice echoes in his mind, unbidden.
‘i don’t even like baked beans,’ it says, followed by amused laughter. and there are other images that parade themselves in his mind, too - a bloodied knife, an empty clothing store, the world on fire, and a pair of gentle brown eyes that hold the stars.
the image of the eyes is painfully familiar, and sehun is plagued by the thought of them all throughout dinner, wondering where exactly he could have seen them before. even his impassive father notices his unusual silences, repeatedly asking if he is well.
sehun nods, hardly knowing what he is responding to, before hastily choking down dinner and rushing upstairs to his room, if only to brood further on this puzzling problem.
it is a pity that there are no answers.
//
sehun is lying listlessly on the bed a few days later, staring blankly at the empty ceiling when he appears. a spectral figure that grows more solid under sehun’s astonished faze, lu han falls from the wall, waving chirpily at sehun before greeting him with a cheery ‘hello!’
sehun recognizes those eyes immediately, for death has not dulled their sparkle at all. for some reason, this puts him at ease, and he returns lu han’s greeting with a nonchalant ‘hey’.
“oh, you’re not afraid of me?” lu han looks pleasantly surprised. there is a certain lilt to his voice, soothing and calming even if his korean is slightly accented. “that’s fantastic, everyone before you was absolutely petrified. they ran screaming from me, said they were losing their minds. it’s been unbearably lonely, you know.”
- and sehun does know. having been born an only child with workaholic parents, he’s had to grow up alone. solitude instead of playmates, dreary silence instead of raucous laughter.
“i do,” he replies soflty. “but maybe we can be friends now?”
lu han smiles, and he is so pretty, warmth spreading across his face like the sun. “i’d like that.”
//
“how did you die, lu?” perhaps it is a tactless question, but sehun is young and curious and not immune to the occasional bout of insensitivity. lu han is laughing, a fragile daisy tucked into his pretty fingers, sehun’s souvenir from the outside world. upon hearing sehun’s question, however, the smile fades as quickly and gently as spring rain and his eyes glaze over, a definite wall slamming down between them and sehun feels the distance between them grow infinitely larger.
“it is not a story for today, sehun-ah.” lu han’s tone is gentle yet firm, one that allows for no more questions, and sehun is cowed.
//
they eventually settle into a routine of sorts. sehun goes to school in the day while lu han wanders off to do ghostly things (‘what sort of things?’ ‘oh, you know - hauntings, knocking on walls, creeping and spying on people.’ the effect is somewhat ruined by lu han’s leer.)
at night, both of them spend time together. sometimes lu han brings sehun around the house, showing him secret passageways (‘watch out for that step, it creaks - ah shit. now your parents are going to wake up.’) and hidden trapdoors. in return, sehun tells lu han about the world outside, shows him pictures (‘oh, they make miniature paintings now?’) and basically gives him half of his heart.
for lu han is beautiful, yes, but beyond the superficial attraction, a pull strums its way through sehun’s veins and he is insatiably curious.
have i seen you before? do i know you? am i the only one who feels this way?
//
“stop staring at me, sehun,” lu han scolds and sehun looks away rapidly, flabbergasted. the wintry sunlight falls through glass panes and renders lu han dazzling, iridescent in his translucence and sehun is helpless against the onslaught.
“sorry,” he mumbles and lu han chuckles. he leans over and grasps sehun’s chin, that habit something he has retained from the first lifetime, and it causes a pang in sehun’s heart even if he doesn’t know why. lu han’s touch is chilly, like cold water and a hint of hypothermia, but his laugh is warm and sehun closes his eyes, basking in the sound.
“silly boy,” lu han whispers. sehun opens his eyes, startled, and is faced with the distressing proximity of lu han - his eyelashes, spidery and thick; his small mouth, lips pursed; his clear skin, fair and smooth. there is a wistful smile on lu han’s face.
“silly boy, you are too good for me.”
//
ashes to ashes, dust to dust: for men are not fated to stay with ghosts, just as corporeal flesh and blood are not meant to mingle with whispers from the grave. they belong to different realms and in this lifetime they are destined to exist as parallel lines, aware of each other yet at the same time never converging.
time passes and sehun ages. now, he is old, wasted away and crippled on his deathbed; his parents have long since passed on and he has cycled through countless servants, all nameless and faceless behind starched suits and pressed skirts.
“how did you die, lu?” the same question comes again, decades later. a dying man’s last wish. a rattling cough punctuates the thick silence that follows, dust motes suspended in the sunlight that pierces the large, dark room.
perhaps lu han senses the shadow of sehun’s imminent demise lurking in the room, billowing black cloak and phantasmagorical aura, for he turns to look sehun squarely in the eye before replying with a brusque ‘old age’. however, he doesn’t stop there, words spilling almost uncontrollably and sehun feels a thrill of foreboding - now, he is not so sure he wants to know the answers to his question, not any more.
“i died of old age, but it’s not so much how i died rather than what i did in life, isn’t it? i… i killed for a living, sehun,” lu han looks haunted instead of the one doing the haunting, now.
“you might think i was forced or coerced into it, but i’m going to have to disabuse you of that notion. i enjoyed it, the bloodlust, the chase, everything. and because of that, i am condemned to an eternity in an… existence… such as this.
“there are worse fates to befall people,” lu han says softly. “but it is terribly lonely.”
sehun is horrified, staring agape at the boy he knew - the boy he thought he knew. “but if you repented - it may not be too late - right?” the last word is a plea more than a question.
“i did,” lu han replies flatly. pity has always turned him sour, and sehun is just now realizing his mistake. “that’s why i’m here and not, i don’t know, burning away in the eternal flame of hell. they were merciful, and i should be grateful.”
sehun opens his mouth to protest, to scream that there must be another way, but the words do not come. lu han regards him sadly, almost as if he knows that there is nothing to say.
even in death, they cannot be together.
☆
2012: london
it is stormy, violent and brutal and sehun is lost. the gales of wind are pounding the rooftops of the nearby houses relentlessly, howling a dismal song in his ear, and all the while sheets of rain are falling in endless torrents, feeling more like solid hail than water droplets. his puny umbrella is no match for the rain, winds spiriting it away even as he watches helplessly. now, sehun is soaked to the skin and cursing his rotten luck, ducking into a nearby coffee shop and deciding to wait out the storm, preferably with a steaming cup of coffee.
however, his stroke of bad luck persists. the entire café is filled with like-minded patrons, the small space filled to the seams. after obtaining his cappuccino - glaring at the overly cheery barista, park chanyeol, as he does so - sehun carefully maneuvers his way through the mess of assorted furniture, looking desperately for an empty spot.
thankfully, his luck has turned, for he spots an empty seat a few metres away. moving more quickly than he ever has in his life, he makes his way over. the seat opposite is already taken by a young man, hunched over drawing feverishly away on a worn sketchbook. tentatively, sehun clears his throat hoping to get his attention.
“excuse me, is this seat taken?”
the young man looks up then, startled. his eyes meet sehun’s, who instantly feels that jolt of recognition - hey it’s you, don’t i know you? - niggling and persistent. sehun can’t lie to himself when he sees a bolt of some indiscernible emotion strike in his eyes, either, almost like lightning striking dry bush aflame.
“no.” his voice is soft, as sehun had expected. he hardly knows what the man is responding to any more, so caught up in his presence. “feel free to take a seat.”
hours pass, the previous storm forgotten. they strike up light conversation and an easy acquaintance, surprisingly natural for two people who are practically strangers.
“what were you drawing?” sehun asks curiously, pointing to the sketchbook hastily set aside upon his arrival.
“here, i’ll show you,” lu han leafs open the sketchbook, thumbing through the thick pages until he reaches the drawing he was working on. on the page is a portrait of a young girl, perhaps a few years younger than them, unbelievably realistic, with the precision of a photograph.
“wow,” sehun breathes, fascinated. “it’s… it’s amazing. you’ve really got an eye for it,” he continues, looking up in time to catch lu han’s faint blush. “is she your sister, then?”
“thanks,” lu han answers shyly. “i find it easier to see in my mind’s eye than others. and no, not exactly, sometimes pictures just come to me and i draw them, you know?”
(sehun doesn’t, but he smiles and nods as if he understands, not wanting lu han to feel uncomfortable or awkward.)
“hey, you should draw me someday,” sehun jokes, hoping for lu han to agree to his offer of continued acquaintance. however, he doesn’t expect for the smile to fade from lu han’s eyes and his jaw to tighten, giving him the look of someone very stubborn.
“i’m afraid that won’t be possible,” lu han answers curtly before making a quick excuse to leave, striding determinedly out of the coffee shop. nonplussed, sehun chases after him, taking lengthy strides out of the café all while desperately trying not to lose sight of that familiar head of brown -
- only just in time to catch sight of the horror happening on the street in front of the café.
sehun realizes it is the girl from lu han’s sketchbook right before the terrifying screech of tonnes of metal upon flesh pierces his eardrums.
//
ever since that incident, sehun’s suspicions have been aroused. still, lu han doesn’t do anything to discourage his attempts at a sustained relationship and sehun soon finds himself falling fast and hard, almost with the feeling of déjà vu. perhaps this nagging feeling of familiarity is what spurs him to pursue a relationship with lu han, this insistent voice inside telling him that what they have is right. the red strings of destiny, the bond between them molded by fate herself.
it must be fate, sehun tells himself three years later even as they move into their new apartment on oxford street, lu han laughing as sehun pretends to stagger under the weight of a box. sure, lu han had objected at first, changing his number and refusing to reply to sehun’s messages. still, sehun’s dogged persistence had worn him down, lu han finally relenting and sehun immediately capitalizing upon the opportunity to worm his way into lu han’s heart.
finally, he thinks, he has found a place to stay, the flighty bird in his chest quieted as it settles and finds a home in the branches of lu han’s pale blue veins.
so many lifetimes, so many misconceptions. so many secrets.
//
sehun’s dream of a quiet future is first threatened when lu han begins his next drawing. for some reason, lu han refuses to let sehun set eyes on his sketchpad, coming up with excuses that get progressively more ridiculous.
there is a strange weight in sehun’s chest, a huge ball of apprehension-fear-anxiety-foreboding mashing together in a black hole of negativity. it feels almost as if gravity has miraculously been restored in the weightless orbit of space, an unwelcome weight dragging him down and dogging him from step to step.
bile churns in his stomach even as he swallows nervously. in his chest, the bird stirs and flaps its wings again, almost as if mocking him.
//
two weeks later, when sehun wakes up to creased sheets, a painting of himself and a handwritten note on the bedside table, he isn’t really surprised.
his last thought before the car hits him is of lu han. this round, fate has the last laugh.
☆
2014: seoul
their current lifetime is the beginning of the end.
it is spring of 2014 and in this lifetime, both of them are trainees in an infamous korean entertainment company. they strike up a fast friendship that burns brightly like a slow fire on a frigid winter night with the same ease and familiarity that has followed at their heels through the centuries like a faithful dog and a shoot of hope burgeons in sehun’s heart.
he glances at lu han beside him, throwing his head back in a laugh so raucous and ugly jongdae wanders over to push his jaw shut, and marvels at how this sight has somehow managed to grow on him over the centuries. and just at that moment lu han looks over, eyes bright and that familiar twinkle shining.
“what’s up, maknae?”
“nothing, nothing at all,” sehun is mortified at being caught staring, openly transfixed and bewitched. after all, they have never defined this connection, this relationship that teeters somewhere between friendship and something more. behind him, jongin snorts derisively and sehun kicks out in his direction. lu han looks over once more, scrutinizing him closely and sehun squirms a little under his impenetrable gaze.
“alright then.” lu han smiles gently, accepting sehun’s words. he stretches out a hand, cupping sehun’s chin in that reflexive movement even as sehun presses himself closer, head resting wearily on lu han’s shoulder. his hand creeps downward and slender fingers wind themselves through the gaps of sehun’s, thumb stroking sehun’s palm gently even as sehun wonders if he can allow himself to have this.
//
idol life is difficult. lu han doesn’t take it well, especially not when yifan leaves mysteriously right before they are scheduled to comeback with ‘wolf’. as a result, promotions are pushed back and fans cry in outrage at the delay. meanwhile, lu han worries his lip and stares blankly at interlocked fingers, even as sehun hovers awkwardly by on the sidelines and wonders what exactly to say.
“i want to leave, sehun-ah,” he whispers sometimes at night, tear tracks streaking his small face and sehun desperately wants to shout, to scream ‘no’, to keep lu han by his side forever and always as if he’s signed a second contract.
“it’ll get better, just trust me -“ the words are empty and dissipate quickly into the darkness, as vulnerable as a whisper and sehun knows it, wants so desperately to make it better and convince lu han to stay even as he knows it is no use.
sighing, lu han rolls over to face the wall instead, his back to sehun, effectively signaling the end of the conversation. a leaden weight sinks itself into sehun’s stomach.
//
sehun can’t say he isn’t expecting it this time. lu han had been wasting away right before his very eyes, the psychogenic headaches plaguing his days and interrupting his nights. quietly, he watches as lu han soldiers on despite the piercing stage lights and cacophony of shouts from the fans.
quietly, he watches as lu han wastes away, withering like a flower in the acrid july drought.
“why don’t you leave, lu?” he asks one night in the darkness of their shared room, half anticipating and half dreading lu han’s answer.
“then what would the fans do, sehunnie?” lu han’s voice is even quieter than his, small and afraid. “they would cry, they would be upset. especially since we just lost yifan.”
for this is lu han - even in times of pain and hurt, he always puts others before himself. it’s a trait that has remained throughout the centuries and sehun’s heart hurts to see it repeat itself once more in this lifetime.
“lu. hyung.” he rarely uses honorifics with lu han, because a dozen lifetimes of familiarity are enough to strip away the barriers of age and distance. it’s a pity, really, that lu han doesn’t remember any of them and sometimes reprimands him for apparent disrespect.
ignoring these thoughts, he throws off the covers and swings long legs out of the overly small bed, striding across to lu han’s side of the room. lu han looks up at the sudden rustle, watching sehun as he approaches and sehun gets lost in lu han’s eyes once again, perhaps for the last time. the moonlight shining through the small window reflects in lu han’s dark eyes and sehun thinks he can see the stars, maybe, glimmering and wavering in the wetness that floods lu han’s eyes.
“c’mon, shift over,” sehun mumbles and lu han acquiesces. sehun crawls into the tiny bed and it’s crammed but not uncomfortable, strange but not unfamiliar. lu han sighs fondly, reaching out to pull sehun closer.
“you’re getting too tall, sehun-ah. remember when we first met?”
sehun’s lips are pressed tightly together now to stop sobs from escaping, tears trickling silently down his cheeks even as he scrunches up his face, fighting hard to prevent the howl of misery from escaping.
“vaguely,” he replies with great effort, thankful that his voice doesn’t shake. “i was pretty tiny then, but so were you.”
“yeah,” from lu han’s voice alone, sehun knows he is smiling. “i miss that sometimes, sehunnie.”
it seems as if lu han is about to say more, but he is cut off by a whimper of pain even as he clutches sehun’s arm, nails piercing in that involuntary movement in a futile attempt to ward off the sudden headache and in that instant the moment ends.
//
“you should go.” the moment sehun says it he knows it is the right thing to do. love is not about yourself, it is about sacrifice. and sehun loves lu han, an undeniable fact in itself, loves him more than anything, has loved him with the same intensity since the first lifetime together, and realizes that this is perhaps the best thing to do for both of them.
loving someone doesn’t mean having them by your side all the time, it means letting them go when the time comes. this realization doesn’t hit sehun like a freight train, but rather spreads across him slowly, gradually, soothingly. and perhaps this is why they have never worked out in previous lifetimes, both alternating in their selfishness.
“hyung, you should go.” even if it hurts, sehun knows it is the right thing to do. fate may be cruel at times, but sehun has seen it give out countless second chances, a chance to redeem yourself.
he will not make the same mistake again.
//
the dorm seemed so much emptier without yifan’s tall stature looming over them, either reprimanding them for saying dumb shit or goofing around with chanyeol but now, with barely enough time for them to pick up the shattered remnants, lu han is gone too. his clothes are packed away, his iron man figurines and shoes all shipped back to china. even more noticeable is the lack of his presence, always cheerful and bubbly and inexplicably attuned to the members. nowadays the dorm lacks a gentle voice babbling away in accented korean, lacks a hyung, lacks a friend. nowadays, there is a hole in sehun’s heart.
yet judging from the occasional pictures they see of lu han while trawling the internet as well as the cheery texts he sends them, he looks much happier, much healthier. the dark circles under his eyes are gone, he has put on weight and his cheeks are fuller. sehun heaves a sigh of relief even as his heart twinges, a painful ache stabbing itself past his ribs.
//
sehun doesn’t expect the call that comes at two in the morning, exo-k stumbling back into the dorm after yet another award ceremony they’d had to sit through and look pretty, only to be slammed by unforgiving netizens the next day for unfathomable reasons nitpicked out of thin air. baekhyun gropes his way into the bathroom wordlessly, too exhausted to turn on the light as chanyeol follows, shaking his head to get rid of the fog of sleep. sehun simply sits back on his bed and lets the hyungs go ahead, phone clutched between long fingers as he absentmindedly scrolls through instagram and weibo.
suddenly, however, his phone lights up and lu han’s face appears on the screen. sehun’s finger hovers over the ‘reject’ button, but against his better judgement he hurriedly jabs ‘answer’ and pretends not to see junmyeon’s questioning look from across the room.
“hello?”
“hey, sehunnie, hey.”
the shard of ice, that strange lump in his throat, that foreign weight on his heart - all these melt away at the sound of that familiar voice, warm tones of affection and maybe even love.
“hey.” he replies with the same ease.
maybe now, we can try.
☆
indefinite time, indefinite place, definite happiness
sehun sits quietly on his favorite sofa in the living room, watching as his favorite person in the entire universe frets and runs around as frantically as a chicken bound for slaughter, and knows it.
“lu, you’ve prepared everything. you’ve double-checked, triple-checked everything. you’re fine. we’re fine. come on,” sehun ventures softly once the manic look in lu han’s eyes deepens. “come back here and sit down, yeah? we can call for takeout, watch some television, relax. okay?”
“okay,” lu han finally breathes after a beat of silence and sehun relaxes, not having realized that he had tensed up before. luhan exhales, shakily, and sehun can hear the tremor, the hitch in his breath, slow and shuddery. sure enough, lu han’s worries are spilling from his mouth before long, filling the air with his trepidation and anxiety.
“but i’m so scared, sehunnie. i know we talked about adoption for a long time, but now that we’re taking ziyu home from the orphanage tomorrow i can’t help imagining all these worst-case scenarios: what if he doesn’t like us, or thinks that it’s weird to grow up with two fathers, or wants to go home -”
“he won’t.” sehun’s rarely sure of anything in this tempestuous whirlwind of a life, but there is one thing of which he can be drop-dead certain.
“he’ll love you, lu. because you’re amazing and you’re prepared for this, okay? remember all those parenting seminars you dragged us to, and those books you made us read?” sehun spreads his arms and lu han collapses into them, nuzzling into the familiar warmth even as he breaths in the same comforting scent, listening to the steadiness of sehun’s heartbeat. sehun relishes in the warm weight, resting his chin on lu han’s soft hair as he closes his eyes and basks in the warm glow of just being together, two pieces finding their other half.
“we’ve tried our best,” sehun finishes softly, arms encircling lu han protectively like a thicket of branches, squeezing him gently before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. lu han squeezes back, arms winding around sehun’s waist, burrowing deeper into the familiar warmth that feels so right, almost like déjà vu.
they eventually do end up calling for takeout - japanese, because lu han kicks up a fuss about becoming a parent the next day (‘i’m not ready to give up my soccer nights! think about the responsibility, sehun-ah’) and sehun is only too glad for any excuse to indulge him - and watching reruns of old movies on tv, enjoying their last night of freedom.
(‘wait, and you think i’ve had any experience in being a dad?’ sehun’s incredulity is evident in the raised tones of his voice.
lu han thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. there’s a cheeky twinkle in his eye sehun’s grown familiar with and spells trouble.
‘nah. too childish. some days i still have to nag you to do the laundry and even then you don’t separate the darks from the whites.’
‘hey!’
he should have known.)
when the movie ends, sehun gets up and stretches before lazily pointing the remote at the bright television screen, waiting for it to dim before padding quietly to the bedroom to catch up with lu han.
they brush up quietly and sehun revels in this calm placidity, watching lu han as he splashes water briefly on his face and dries off with a fluffy towel. in this lifetime, lu han’s always had a thing for taking care of his skin, even more than he did in the lifetime they spent together as idols. what’s funny, though, is that he often complains about others calling him feminine-looking and girly, but doesn’t see the irony in it. sehun doesn’t question it, just accepts it as one of the countless contradictions that makes up lu han.
lu han’s dressed in sehun’s college shirt, the one that’s too big for him and hangs off his shoulders but he loves because it reminds him of sehun, whose heart swells so large it feels almost as if it’s going to burst in the next minute or so. lu han beams at him once he catches sehun staring in the mirror, and sehun is for the millionth time caught up in the radiance of that smile, the same brilliance that ensnared him the first time, the same brilliance that he will fall for even when the sky collapses (perhaps again). they stumble into bed in darkness because lu han’s too lazy to turn on the light, stubbing toes on furniture with many whispered curses before finally collapsing onto the soft mattress.
“sehunnie?” lu han’s amusement is evident in his voice, even though the moonlight doesn’t reach sehun’s side of the bed and he’s practically running blind. still, the sound of lu han’s voice is so familiar - his guiding light so incandescent even in this blackness - and he knows that he will follow it for eternity, making his home in the dips and crests of lu han’s laugh.
“yeah?”
“goodnight,” lu han’s voice is surprisingly tender, soft and vulnerable. the sort of voice that only a lover knows. “i love you.”
sehun swallows past the lump in his throat. “goodnight. i love you too,” he whispers. words they have repeated so many times, but have never lost their meaning.
tomorrow, the cycle breaks. tomorrow, it is a new beginning. they might no longer have forever - who knows what happens once the cycle breaks? - but for sehun, this lifetime of happiness is more than enough.
sehun tangles his legs together with lu han’s, exhales and shuts his eyes. beside him, lu han reaches out and tangles his fingers with his own, somehow finding sehun’s slim fingers even in this darkness. they fall asleep like this, linked.
bound.
fin.
+ i said i would stop writing selu lmao ok dat funny whY DO I THINK I CAN WRITE THEM. this took 2 months, rip me
+ idol!au was the main point of the fic tbh it’s all i wanted to write. but ya all these were selu plotbunnies i was too lazy to write separately
+ title from fall for you by secondhand serenade.
+ hit me up on twitter! @NAMSHINS