gospel salt [hunhan]
title: gospel salt
pairing: sehun/luhan (wufan/yixing)
word count: 3.5k
genre: dystopia!au, romance, angst
rating: pg-13
(this is part one of the blacklight series. part two is here)
gospel salt
Lu Han drifts slowly into consciousness. He blinks lazily, eyelids still heavy. His eyes are sore. His throat feels raw and bloody. The rest of his body, he can’t feel at all. A boy stands by the window. The thick, burgundy drapes are covering the glass wall, except for where the boy has pulled it away ever so slightly to gaze out. Lu Han wonders if the boy knows that he is awake, if that’s why he’s here.
“They call that the underworld, like they’re under us. Like we’re over them, as people, as beings. I think we’re mistaken about that,” the boy says. Lu Han can still not tell whether he’s speaking to himself, or to Lu Han. Lu Han can tell he’s beautiful, even by just his profile. The suit he wears is sure to be expensive, tailored specifically to subtly make him seem taller, slimmer, colder. His brows are slightly furrowed as he regards the city, its countless, majestic glass towers. And then in the distance, there’s the underworld. There’s only stone and wood and reality, no high towers, no high standards, pretenses of what society is, no prejudice, there’s blood and poverty and raw humanity.
Lu Han shifts, ever so slightly, and the boy’s head snaps back to look at him. His lips part slightly as he realizes that Lu Han is conscious, before he regains his composure. He straightens his shoulders and exits the room in three long strides.
*
The next time Lu Han wakes, energy is thrumming steadily beneath his skin. The first thing he does, on instinct, is to attempts to wiggle his toes. He finds that he succeeds, and he adds this to his mental list of small victories. The progress may be slow, but at least there is some. Then, after this discovery, comes another. He’s being watched. He knows, because that’s not the sound of one person breathing - it’s two. Their rhythms mingle and overlap in a dance. Both are aware of each other’s presence now, but none of them speak.
Lu Han decides to open his eyes. Not that it helps, really, because everything is enclosed in darkness. He blinks, trying to distinguish between the different pieces of furniture in the room. The last time he was awake, he’d been too drained to take in his surroundings. This observation is slightly more concise, but not much. From what he can see, it’s very simple; hard edges, clean angles. He doesn’t know how he knows, but it’s a very typical place for…this place. He fishes around in his mind, searching for the exact term, but can’t seem to find it. It’s as if someone had gone in and altered his mind, removed all significant thoughts and knowledge, wiping the slate perfectly clean, perfectly empty.
As his gaze glides across the room, he discovers the identity of his visitor. It’s the boy from before. Lu Han finds he’s not surprised. Somehow, he knew the boy would come back. Lu Han smiles at this. Although he doesn’t know where he is, or why he’s here, he knows someone cares about him, at least a little bit, in some sort of way. With this, he falls back into slumber.
*
Lu Han wakes, once again, to the nagging feeling that he is not alone.
“You like looking at me,” Lu Han whispers, but there’s not any judgment in his tone. It’s not an accusation, just a statement. He’s trying it out, tasting the words, like he’s not quite used to the flavor. He doesn’t know if he likes it or not, yet.
“Should I leave?” the boy asks sharply. Lu Han doesn’t answer, because he’s not sure yet. The boy mistakenly takes Lu Han’s silence as consent, and gets to his feet. One stride, two strides -
“Don’t go,” Lu Han says when the boy is just about to exit. He hesitates, for a second, hand hovering over the button. But it’s not enough, obviously, because the boy proceeds to push it down and step out of Lu Han’s vision. The door slides shut with a click.
Lu Han clenches his fists out of frustration. Dammit, he thinks. Had he only been a little quicker, a little more insistent, maybe the boy would have stayed with him. But nope, he’s alone again. Now, there’s no heavy feeling anywhere in his body. Every movement causes him to feel drained of energy, but he’s so much better than before. If he tried, he might be able to sit up. He makes an attempt to do so, but when he’s almost up, his arms give in. Tears well up in his eyes, and he’s too tired to wipe them away.
Click.
Lu Han’s heart jumps at the sound. He’s back.
He makes his way into the room quietly, door clicking shut behind him. Just as before, he appears to be unaffected. His face is an imperturbable mask of indifference as he regards Lu Han, arms crossed. The quietness is making Lu Han’s head hurt, but he’s reluctant to speak. Any sound, any move he makes, would seem too loud, too forceful, in a delicate situation such as this. He blinks, and a tear from his previous silent outburst rolls down his cheek.
“Why are you crying?” the boy asks. His voice is still cold, but a bit softer, now.
“You left,” Lu Han replies, simply, because, well, that was partly the reason. The boy frowns, and takes a step towards Lu Han. Lu Han almost misses it, but it’s there; the slight quivering of the boy’s hand. Then it’s over, and his hand clenches into a fist. His knuckles are white and bony. It’s as if he wanted to reach out, but automatically repressed the urge.
“I won’t go unless you want me to,” the boy murmurs, avoiding Lu Han’s gaze.
“Good,” Lu Han breathes. He musters up a smile, even though it feels unnatural. It’s as if it’s been ages since he used his face muscles to create that type of expression, and it might have been, for all Lu Han knows. The boy nods and swallows. There it is again, the quivering. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, before he turns to the window.
“I saved you,” he says, after a short silence. The words are abrupt, and eager, as if they’ve been trying to escape from his mouth for a long time.
“You saved me?” Lu Han wonders. Sehun still has his back to him. His hair is an odd, light shade of grey that still seems to shine, even in the dim lighting. Though it can’t possibly be his natural shade, it seems to suit him, somehow. With his pale skin and dark eyes, it comes off as almost ethereal, Lu Han thinks.
“There were glass splinters all over your body, even in your eyes. I was on a field trip with my school, since it’s mandatory to go Down once a year. There was an attack, an explosion, in the museum we were visiting. We would have all died, if you hadn’t come. You told us to run, right before it happened. I didn’t make it out in time, though. It all went so fast, but I remember you running towards me. I blacked out, but woke up when they pulled me out under you. Your face was covered in blood, full of splinters, and I didn’t know… didn’t think,” he says, shaking his head. “Half of your ear got blown off… so when they asked me if you were a Noble or a Downworlder,” Sehun continues, but he has lost the other. In the back of Lu Han’s mind, those two words bounce off the walls of his mind in an echo. Noble? Downworlder? Sehun trails on, “…and I told them you were from my batch of students. So I saved you, because you saved me first,” but Lu Han can’t focus. He stares at his hands.
…a Noble or a Downworlder.
And it all comes rushing back.
His breath hatches as the tidal wave of memories back into his mind. The basics click into place easily enough; his name is Lu Han, he’s 22, and an orphan. He loves green tea, while his best friend Yixing likes red tea best. Then it hits him.
Yixing isn’t alive anymore.
That’s strike one, the first memory that punches him in the gut, knocking the air out of him. The rest just keep coming, and coming, and coming, and it’s confusing. Strips of conversation, images flashing, he feels dizzy.
There are the feelings of steady acceptance of his new identity, as well as bustling excitement as he arrives in Seoul at 17. He works lengthy hours, but it’s far better than the violent chaos Beijing has become. He had nothing to gain in staying, no family, no anything. With the help of a few friends, he gets a ticket to Seoul’s Downside, and never looks back. He picks up on the language with a shocking swiftness, and at 19, he’s nearly fluent. It’s around that time he meets Yixing and Wu Fan. It takes a year, for Wu Fan and Yixing to trust Lu Han enough to let him in on their biggest, most hidden secret. With the knowledge of this secret, Lu Han becomes a part of the Unity.
It’s the most organized rebel group in the Underground - or, well, you could just say Seoul. The city is divided in two, but only one side has thoughts of rebellion. The Nobles are too caught up whatever the latest fad is, materialistic obsessions and general shallowness. They’re perfectly fine with the way things currently are, the strict class system, the poverty in some of the low Underground districts.
Then the memories flow into more recent events.
They are meeting to have a cup of tea and discuss the future of the Unity, when Wu Fan drops the bomb, in the most literal sense possible.
“You can’t do this,” Lu Han says, voice shaking. Wu Fan won’t look at him. The feeling of betrayal fills Lu Han’s body.
“Too bad. It’s too late now,” Wu Fan states, shrugging. He sips his tea smoothly.
“What do you mean, it’s too late?” Lu Han shrieks, slamming his open palms to the table.
“There’s nothing for you to do, but to sit back and watch. They all go off in less than 15 minutes. And don’t try to go there. I spiked your tea. You’ll probably be out a couple of days, and you might have some difficulty remembering… well, anything, for a while. Don’t worry, it’ll come back, but we don’t want you to run around spilling secrets when you’re in such a fragile state of mind, do we?“ he questions ironically. He places his teacup back on the table and meets Lu Han’s gaze steadily. “I’m sorry, Lu. It had to be done.”
Lu Han barely made it there on time, and even that was almost too late. Most of them made it out, though, the Nobles. There was one last kid left, though, a thin, tall one. Lu Han didn’t think, only ran, and only did what he could to shield the younger. Then there was pain, a breathtaking amount of it.
But he knows he cannot tell Sehun. He can’t tell anyone. If he did, he would surely be executed. It’s not the pain he’s worried about; it would be as swift and efficient as anything the Nobles do. He’s worried about Wu Fan, about what he’ll do. If he’s capable of doing this, then Lu Han is afraid he has no limits anymore.
“They’ve found you in the system. They can’t open your file, though,” Sehun says dispassionately, breaking Lu Han’s train of thought.
“Oh, that’s… strange,” Lu Han said. He had to pretend that he didn’t remember anything; he had to pretend that he was entirely unaffected. But… Jongdae. This was Jongdae’s work, no doubt about it. It might have been a neutral obligation he had, to delete him from the Downworlder system, to remove every trace of his identity. Kim Jongdae was a ball of sunshine and laughter, but frighteningly brilliant when he needed to be. He was strictly loyal to the Unity, of course; but he was also loyal to his morals, more so than anything else. Lu Han was his friend, had been for years. Even as Wu Fan probably had assured him, as well as the rest of the organization, that Lu Han was a lost cause, Jongdae had clung to that small sliver of hope that Lu Han had made it out, somehow.
“Cut the crap, okay? I know you don’t go to my school. If you did, I’d know,” Sehun said, cheeks reddening slightly. “Who are you? Why did you tell us to run?” he finishes, frown deep on his face. Suddenly, Lu Han feels like reaching out and smoothening out that tiny furrow between his eyebrows, but catches himself, just before he’s about to move his hand.
“I can’t tell you,” he shrugs. He’s not about to make up some fake story; Sehun has been kind to him, far kinder than you could expect from any Noble. And he did save Lu Han. Even if he can’t have the truth, he deserves better than a complete lie. Sehun looks at him for a long time. Then he nods. Lu Han breathes out, relieved. He really wouldn’t have liked lying to the younger.
“Look, I don’t care that you’re a Downworlder. I don’t think it matters,” Sehun shrugs. “I just don’t want you to think that I look down on you or anything,” he says, and Lu Han doesn’t know how much Sehun knows that he knows, but Sehun doesn’t seem like the prying type, either way, so he’s not worried.
“That’s good,” Lu Han says, nodding eagerly, pretending to pay attention to what Sehun is saying. But he’s too caught up in his own dilemma to really do so. What does he do now? He has to get out of here. Lu Han is in the lion’s nest. As sympathetic as Sehun appears to be, he’s still a Noble’s son, and a high-ranking one at that, it seems. This in itself demands of him to escape, but there’s also the issue of Wu Fan. Wait - “How long have I been out?” he asks frantically.
“Three - no, four weeks,” Sehun answers automatically. Lu Han breathes a sigh of relief.
“Thanks, I think - I think I need to rest now,” Lu Han mumbles. Sehun nods. He walks towards the door, but pauses just before he withdraws from the room.
“I want to help you,” he says, and the sincerity in his tone is blatant. I trust him, Lu Han realizes. And this trust is what lays the foundation of his escape.
*
Day by day, Lu Han grows stronger. With Sehun’s help, he takes his first steps, only a few days later. As Lu Han’s condition progresses, so does their bond. Not only in the lingering touches, no, it’s beyond that sort of blossoming young romance. Lu Han is trying to focus on what he needs to do, but he keeps getting distracted. He wants to deny it, but it’s as obvious as the beating of his heart; they’re connected. Sehun doesn’t press for answers, doesn’t demand anything from Lu Han. Had he been a normal Noble, he would have treated the older like trash. No, worse than trash; he would have had no restrictions when it came to anything, no respect, no boundaries. But Sehun treats him delicately, even as he is no longer fragile and sickly.
Sometimes Lu Han feels like he knows Sehun, and sometimes he doesn’t. He sees glimpses of what’s hiding behind is façade, but only what he’s allowed to see. How much does he really know? It’s apparent that he’s not an ordinary Noble boy. But to what degree are his sights unconventional?
The time he spends away from Sehun, he utilizes fully. In the beginning, he attempts to find out as much about the building, to plan an escape route. At least, Lu Han thinks of it as an escape route, but he’s not sure exactly what he’s escaping from anymore; the deadly threat of his identity being discovered, or his own feelings?
Sometimes Lu Han wakes up, screaming. He dreams of glass shards piercing his skin and the sound of bombs ticking, but Sehun is always there to embrace him, to assure him that he’s safe. The situation happens so frequently, that they end up sleeping together every night. Not as in sex, but just sleeping. Sehun is always gone when Lu Han wakes up; he has school, parents to please, a normal life. Lu Han’s fairly certain that Sehun have had to make some sacrifices to keep him at the Oh residence. He has never met Sehun’s parents; probably the younger’s work, too. They’re probably too busy to care about him, anyway, being stereotypical Nobles, too caught up in their own lives, in cocktail parties and going to the Opera, and the rest of the trivial matters they fix their existences with.
Sehun doesn’t ask many questions, but is free with sharing his own thoughts. Lu Han plays with the idea of recruiting him, but he knows his contemplation are futile. When you enter the Unity, you become one with the rebellion. Sehun’s soft skin and gentle hands are not meant for this. And although he obviously enjoys pondering the faults of the society, Lu Han has no doubt what side he would be on, if it came to that. The thought of Wu Fan also keeps haunting him; if he allows himself to fall truly in love, his judgment is bound to become irrational. If that happens, people might get hurt.
“We’re like hamsters in a wheel. Everyone’s running, keeping the wheel spinning, but no one knows why anymore,” Sehun whispers to him, one night. Lu Han just presses his lips to the younger’s shoulder. In another universe, where there were no Downworlders, no Nobles, they could’ve had a shot at love. But in this one, they don’t. Here, Lu Han may be able to eat to his heart’s content, consume, devour, and attain all the possessions he desires. But his blood is beating with the certainty that in the Underground, his people are dying. Lu Han can't live with that, when he used to be the one starving.
*
It’s time to leave.
Sehun remains gentle, so gentle, although Lu Han assures him he doesn’t need to be. It’s Lu Han’s way of saying goodbye, this. The kisses are thanks, the touches are silent confessions of what they can’t say, and they both know it.
Lu Han waits until he’s sure Sehun’s asleep to quietly rise. He snatches the small pile of clothing from under his bed. The usually soft, high-quality fabric seems rough against his skin. His gaze, now more used to the darkness, keeps getting drawn to Sehun’s form. He tears his eyes away from the other boy and shrugs into another jacket. Winter in the Underground is bitter and unkind, nothing like the soft air heating systems they have here among the Nobles.
He slides the door open and steps out onto the balcony. The wind caresses his face, and he closes his eyes, breathing it in. As unnatural as its origin is, it’s soothing. Despite the artificial heating, it’s still oxygen, right? Humans have been breathing air for as long as they’ve existed here on earth. He feels like he might become one with the wind, like he might fly away, because right now, he feels like he’s nothing but air. Nothingness fills his being, and then there’s a kind of slow pain in his chest, as if it’s somehow inflated. There’s a knot in his throat, and he feels sick to his stomach.
One last glance can’t hurt, right? But when he turns around, Sehun’s eyes meet him, awake and bright. Even in the darkness, they seem to shine, shine with Sehun’s characteristic vacancy. And it does hurt. Lu Han tries to resist it, but that never worked when it came to Sehun, so he pads over to the younger. Lu Han brushes his hair away from his face and kisses his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his temples, but not once do their mouths touch. At last, he touches his lips to the younger’s hand.
Lu Han then flees. Later that night, when he’s nearing the invisible borders, where the glass towers end and desperation begins, his lips taste like salt and nothingness. A vacuum of never-ending emptiness has taken over the space his chest used to be. The air he breathes in is no longer sweet and gentle, but tears at his hair, almost as hard as the thought of Sehun is tearing at his heart. It’s as natural as pain, as humanity, as heartbreak.
a/n: hunhan! whoo ~ or not lmao. the title is from andrea gibson's poem. i rly hope you enjoyed reading this!!! ^^
pairing: sehun/luhan (wufan/yixing)
word count: 3.5k
genre: dystopia!au, romance, angst
rating: pg-13
(this is part one of the blacklight series. part two is here)
gospel salt
Lu Han drifts slowly into consciousness. He blinks lazily, eyelids still heavy. His eyes are sore. His throat feels raw and bloody. The rest of his body, he can’t feel at all. A boy stands by the window. The thick, burgundy drapes are covering the glass wall, except for where the boy has pulled it away ever so slightly to gaze out. Lu Han wonders if the boy knows that he is awake, if that’s why he’s here.
“They call that the underworld, like they’re under us. Like we’re over them, as people, as beings. I think we’re mistaken about that,” the boy says. Lu Han can still not tell whether he’s speaking to himself, or to Lu Han. Lu Han can tell he’s beautiful, even by just his profile. The suit he wears is sure to be expensive, tailored specifically to subtly make him seem taller, slimmer, colder. His brows are slightly furrowed as he regards the city, its countless, majestic glass towers. And then in the distance, there’s the underworld. There’s only stone and wood and reality, no high towers, no high standards, pretenses of what society is, no prejudice, there’s blood and poverty and raw humanity.
Lu Han shifts, ever so slightly, and the boy’s head snaps back to look at him. His lips part slightly as he realizes that Lu Han is conscious, before he regains his composure. He straightens his shoulders and exits the room in three long strides.
*
The next time Lu Han wakes, energy is thrumming steadily beneath his skin. The first thing he does, on instinct, is to attempts to wiggle his toes. He finds that he succeeds, and he adds this to his mental list of small victories. The progress may be slow, but at least there is some. Then, after this discovery, comes another. He’s being watched. He knows, because that’s not the sound of one person breathing - it’s two. Their rhythms mingle and overlap in a dance. Both are aware of each other’s presence now, but none of them speak.
Lu Han decides to open his eyes. Not that it helps, really, because everything is enclosed in darkness. He blinks, trying to distinguish between the different pieces of furniture in the room. The last time he was awake, he’d been too drained to take in his surroundings. This observation is slightly more concise, but not much. From what he can see, it’s very simple; hard edges, clean angles. He doesn’t know how he knows, but it’s a very typical place for…this place. He fishes around in his mind, searching for the exact term, but can’t seem to find it. It’s as if someone had gone in and altered his mind, removed all significant thoughts and knowledge, wiping the slate perfectly clean, perfectly empty.
As his gaze glides across the room, he discovers the identity of his visitor. It’s the boy from before. Lu Han finds he’s not surprised. Somehow, he knew the boy would come back. Lu Han smiles at this. Although he doesn’t know where he is, or why he’s here, he knows someone cares about him, at least a little bit, in some sort of way. With this, he falls back into slumber.
*
Lu Han wakes, once again, to the nagging feeling that he is not alone.
“You like looking at me,” Lu Han whispers, but there’s not any judgment in his tone. It’s not an accusation, just a statement. He’s trying it out, tasting the words, like he’s not quite used to the flavor. He doesn’t know if he likes it or not, yet.
“Should I leave?” the boy asks sharply. Lu Han doesn’t answer, because he’s not sure yet. The boy mistakenly takes Lu Han’s silence as consent, and gets to his feet. One stride, two strides -
“Don’t go,” Lu Han says when the boy is just about to exit. He hesitates, for a second, hand hovering over the button. But it’s not enough, obviously, because the boy proceeds to push it down and step out of Lu Han’s vision. The door slides shut with a click.
Lu Han clenches his fists out of frustration. Dammit, he thinks. Had he only been a little quicker, a little more insistent, maybe the boy would have stayed with him. But nope, he’s alone again. Now, there’s no heavy feeling anywhere in his body. Every movement causes him to feel drained of energy, but he’s so much better than before. If he tried, he might be able to sit up. He makes an attempt to do so, but when he’s almost up, his arms give in. Tears well up in his eyes, and he’s too tired to wipe them away.
Click.
Lu Han’s heart jumps at the sound. He’s back.
He makes his way into the room quietly, door clicking shut behind him. Just as before, he appears to be unaffected. His face is an imperturbable mask of indifference as he regards Lu Han, arms crossed. The quietness is making Lu Han’s head hurt, but he’s reluctant to speak. Any sound, any move he makes, would seem too loud, too forceful, in a delicate situation such as this. He blinks, and a tear from his previous silent outburst rolls down his cheek.
“Why are you crying?” the boy asks. His voice is still cold, but a bit softer, now.
“You left,” Lu Han replies, simply, because, well, that was partly the reason. The boy frowns, and takes a step towards Lu Han. Lu Han almost misses it, but it’s there; the slight quivering of the boy’s hand. Then it’s over, and his hand clenches into a fist. His knuckles are white and bony. It’s as if he wanted to reach out, but automatically repressed the urge.
“I won’t go unless you want me to,” the boy murmurs, avoiding Lu Han’s gaze.
“Good,” Lu Han breathes. He musters up a smile, even though it feels unnatural. It’s as if it’s been ages since he used his face muscles to create that type of expression, and it might have been, for all Lu Han knows. The boy nods and swallows. There it is again, the quivering. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, before he turns to the window.
“I saved you,” he says, after a short silence. The words are abrupt, and eager, as if they’ve been trying to escape from his mouth for a long time.
“You saved me?” Lu Han wonders. Sehun still has his back to him. His hair is an odd, light shade of grey that still seems to shine, even in the dim lighting. Though it can’t possibly be his natural shade, it seems to suit him, somehow. With his pale skin and dark eyes, it comes off as almost ethereal, Lu Han thinks.
“There were glass splinters all over your body, even in your eyes. I was on a field trip with my school, since it’s mandatory to go Down once a year. There was an attack, an explosion, in the museum we were visiting. We would have all died, if you hadn’t come. You told us to run, right before it happened. I didn’t make it out in time, though. It all went so fast, but I remember you running towards me. I blacked out, but woke up when they pulled me out under you. Your face was covered in blood, full of splinters, and I didn’t know… didn’t think,” he says, shaking his head. “Half of your ear got blown off… so when they asked me if you were a Noble or a Downworlder,” Sehun continues, but he has lost the other. In the back of Lu Han’s mind, those two words bounce off the walls of his mind in an echo. Noble? Downworlder? Sehun trails on, “…and I told them you were from my batch of students. So I saved you, because you saved me first,” but Lu Han can’t focus. He stares at his hands.
…a Noble or a Downworlder.
And it all comes rushing back.
His breath hatches as the tidal wave of memories back into his mind. The basics click into place easily enough; his name is Lu Han, he’s 22, and an orphan. He loves green tea, while his best friend Yixing likes red tea best. Then it hits him.
Yixing isn’t alive anymore.
That’s strike one, the first memory that punches him in the gut, knocking the air out of him. The rest just keep coming, and coming, and coming, and it’s confusing. Strips of conversation, images flashing, he feels dizzy.
There are the feelings of steady acceptance of his new identity, as well as bustling excitement as he arrives in Seoul at 17. He works lengthy hours, but it’s far better than the violent chaos Beijing has become. He had nothing to gain in staying, no family, no anything. With the help of a few friends, he gets a ticket to Seoul’s Downside, and never looks back. He picks up on the language with a shocking swiftness, and at 19, he’s nearly fluent. It’s around that time he meets Yixing and Wu Fan. It takes a year, for Wu Fan and Yixing to trust Lu Han enough to let him in on their biggest, most hidden secret. With the knowledge of this secret, Lu Han becomes a part of the Unity.
It’s the most organized rebel group in the Underground - or, well, you could just say Seoul. The city is divided in two, but only one side has thoughts of rebellion. The Nobles are too caught up whatever the latest fad is, materialistic obsessions and general shallowness. They’re perfectly fine with the way things currently are, the strict class system, the poverty in some of the low Underground districts.
Then the memories flow into more recent events.
They are meeting to have a cup of tea and discuss the future of the Unity, when Wu Fan drops the bomb, in the most literal sense possible.
“You can’t do this,” Lu Han says, voice shaking. Wu Fan won’t look at him. The feeling of betrayal fills Lu Han’s body.
“Too bad. It’s too late now,” Wu Fan states, shrugging. He sips his tea smoothly.
“What do you mean, it’s too late?” Lu Han shrieks, slamming his open palms to the table.
“There’s nothing for you to do, but to sit back and watch. They all go off in less than 15 minutes. And don’t try to go there. I spiked your tea. You’ll probably be out a couple of days, and you might have some difficulty remembering… well, anything, for a while. Don’t worry, it’ll come back, but we don’t want you to run around spilling secrets when you’re in such a fragile state of mind, do we?“ he questions ironically. He places his teacup back on the table and meets Lu Han’s gaze steadily. “I’m sorry, Lu. It had to be done.”
Lu Han barely made it there on time, and even that was almost too late. Most of them made it out, though, the Nobles. There was one last kid left, though, a thin, tall one. Lu Han didn’t think, only ran, and only did what he could to shield the younger. Then there was pain, a breathtaking amount of it.
But he knows he cannot tell Sehun. He can’t tell anyone. If he did, he would surely be executed. It’s not the pain he’s worried about; it would be as swift and efficient as anything the Nobles do. He’s worried about Wu Fan, about what he’ll do. If he’s capable of doing this, then Lu Han is afraid he has no limits anymore.
“They’ve found you in the system. They can’t open your file, though,” Sehun says dispassionately, breaking Lu Han’s train of thought.
“Oh, that’s… strange,” Lu Han said. He had to pretend that he didn’t remember anything; he had to pretend that he was entirely unaffected. But… Jongdae. This was Jongdae’s work, no doubt about it. It might have been a neutral obligation he had, to delete him from the Downworlder system, to remove every trace of his identity. Kim Jongdae was a ball of sunshine and laughter, but frighteningly brilliant when he needed to be. He was strictly loyal to the Unity, of course; but he was also loyal to his morals, more so than anything else. Lu Han was his friend, had been for years. Even as Wu Fan probably had assured him, as well as the rest of the organization, that Lu Han was a lost cause, Jongdae had clung to that small sliver of hope that Lu Han had made it out, somehow.
“Cut the crap, okay? I know you don’t go to my school. If you did, I’d know,” Sehun said, cheeks reddening slightly. “Who are you? Why did you tell us to run?” he finishes, frown deep on his face. Suddenly, Lu Han feels like reaching out and smoothening out that tiny furrow between his eyebrows, but catches himself, just before he’s about to move his hand.
“I can’t tell you,” he shrugs. He’s not about to make up some fake story; Sehun has been kind to him, far kinder than you could expect from any Noble. And he did save Lu Han. Even if he can’t have the truth, he deserves better than a complete lie. Sehun looks at him for a long time. Then he nods. Lu Han breathes out, relieved. He really wouldn’t have liked lying to the younger.
“Look, I don’t care that you’re a Downworlder. I don’t think it matters,” Sehun shrugs. “I just don’t want you to think that I look down on you or anything,” he says, and Lu Han doesn’t know how much Sehun knows that he knows, but Sehun doesn’t seem like the prying type, either way, so he’s not worried.
“That’s good,” Lu Han says, nodding eagerly, pretending to pay attention to what Sehun is saying. But he’s too caught up in his own dilemma to really do so. What does he do now? He has to get out of here. Lu Han is in the lion’s nest. As sympathetic as Sehun appears to be, he’s still a Noble’s son, and a high-ranking one at that, it seems. This in itself demands of him to escape, but there’s also the issue of Wu Fan. Wait - “How long have I been out?” he asks frantically.
“Three - no, four weeks,” Sehun answers automatically. Lu Han breathes a sigh of relief.
“Thanks, I think - I think I need to rest now,” Lu Han mumbles. Sehun nods. He walks towards the door, but pauses just before he withdraws from the room.
“I want to help you,” he says, and the sincerity in his tone is blatant. I trust him, Lu Han realizes. And this trust is what lays the foundation of his escape.
*
Day by day, Lu Han grows stronger. With Sehun’s help, he takes his first steps, only a few days later. As Lu Han’s condition progresses, so does their bond. Not only in the lingering touches, no, it’s beyond that sort of blossoming young romance. Lu Han is trying to focus on what he needs to do, but he keeps getting distracted. He wants to deny it, but it’s as obvious as the beating of his heart; they’re connected. Sehun doesn’t press for answers, doesn’t demand anything from Lu Han. Had he been a normal Noble, he would have treated the older like trash. No, worse than trash; he would have had no restrictions when it came to anything, no respect, no boundaries. But Sehun treats him delicately, even as he is no longer fragile and sickly.
Sometimes Lu Han feels like he knows Sehun, and sometimes he doesn’t. He sees glimpses of what’s hiding behind is façade, but only what he’s allowed to see. How much does he really know? It’s apparent that he’s not an ordinary Noble boy. But to what degree are his sights unconventional?
The time he spends away from Sehun, he utilizes fully. In the beginning, he attempts to find out as much about the building, to plan an escape route. At least, Lu Han thinks of it as an escape route, but he’s not sure exactly what he’s escaping from anymore; the deadly threat of his identity being discovered, or his own feelings?
Sometimes Lu Han wakes up, screaming. He dreams of glass shards piercing his skin and the sound of bombs ticking, but Sehun is always there to embrace him, to assure him that he’s safe. The situation happens so frequently, that they end up sleeping together every night. Not as in sex, but just sleeping. Sehun is always gone when Lu Han wakes up; he has school, parents to please, a normal life. Lu Han’s fairly certain that Sehun have had to make some sacrifices to keep him at the Oh residence. He has never met Sehun’s parents; probably the younger’s work, too. They’re probably too busy to care about him, anyway, being stereotypical Nobles, too caught up in their own lives, in cocktail parties and going to the Opera, and the rest of the trivial matters they fix their existences with.
Sehun doesn’t ask many questions, but is free with sharing his own thoughts. Lu Han plays with the idea of recruiting him, but he knows his contemplation are futile. When you enter the Unity, you become one with the rebellion. Sehun’s soft skin and gentle hands are not meant for this. And although he obviously enjoys pondering the faults of the society, Lu Han has no doubt what side he would be on, if it came to that. The thought of Wu Fan also keeps haunting him; if he allows himself to fall truly in love, his judgment is bound to become irrational. If that happens, people might get hurt.
“We’re like hamsters in a wheel. Everyone’s running, keeping the wheel spinning, but no one knows why anymore,” Sehun whispers to him, one night. Lu Han just presses his lips to the younger’s shoulder. In another universe, where there were no Downworlders, no Nobles, they could’ve had a shot at love. But in this one, they don’t. Here, Lu Han may be able to eat to his heart’s content, consume, devour, and attain all the possessions he desires. But his blood is beating with the certainty that in the Underground, his people are dying. Lu Han can't live with that, when he used to be the one starving.
*
It’s time to leave.
Sehun remains gentle, so gentle, although Lu Han assures him he doesn’t need to be. It’s Lu Han’s way of saying goodbye, this. The kisses are thanks, the touches are silent confessions of what they can’t say, and they both know it.
Lu Han waits until he’s sure Sehun’s asleep to quietly rise. He snatches the small pile of clothing from under his bed. The usually soft, high-quality fabric seems rough against his skin. His gaze, now more used to the darkness, keeps getting drawn to Sehun’s form. He tears his eyes away from the other boy and shrugs into another jacket. Winter in the Underground is bitter and unkind, nothing like the soft air heating systems they have here among the Nobles.
He slides the door open and steps out onto the balcony. The wind caresses his face, and he closes his eyes, breathing it in. As unnatural as its origin is, it’s soothing. Despite the artificial heating, it’s still oxygen, right? Humans have been breathing air for as long as they’ve existed here on earth. He feels like he might become one with the wind, like he might fly away, because right now, he feels like he’s nothing but air. Nothingness fills his being, and then there’s a kind of slow pain in his chest, as if it’s somehow inflated. There’s a knot in his throat, and he feels sick to his stomach.
One last glance can’t hurt, right? But when he turns around, Sehun’s eyes meet him, awake and bright. Even in the darkness, they seem to shine, shine with Sehun’s characteristic vacancy. And it does hurt. Lu Han tries to resist it, but that never worked when it came to Sehun, so he pads over to the younger. Lu Han brushes his hair away from his face and kisses his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his temples, but not once do their mouths touch. At last, he touches his lips to the younger’s hand.
Lu Han then flees. Later that night, when he’s nearing the invisible borders, where the glass towers end and desperation begins, his lips taste like salt and nothingness. A vacuum of never-ending emptiness has taken over the space his chest used to be. The air he breathes in is no longer sweet and gentle, but tears at his hair, almost as hard as the thought of Sehun is tearing at his heart. It’s as natural as pain, as humanity, as heartbreak.
a/n: hunhan! whoo ~ or not lmao. the title is from andrea gibson's poem. i rly hope you enjoyed reading this!!! ^^