It’s been years since Minseok has seen his friends, seen the way they’ve fought and laughed together, and it warms his heart. He watches as Yifan teases Jongdae and Yixing like he did all those years ago, messing with them as if he was the youngest between the three when he’s really not, especially with the way his silver ring glints in the fluorescent lights of the funeral home.   “Look at them, Lu Han,” Zitao murmurs, and the warmth shatters in Minseok’s chest, “They’re still the same.”   Even in a funeral home, Lu Han knows how to liven the place up, making Zitao chuckle as he looks away from his brother to stare at their three friends trying to roughhouse even though they’re not as young as they used to be.   “You and me would be beating them by now.” There’s a fond smile on Zitao’s face, and Minseok can’t help but reach out to run fingers through Lu Han’s soft hair. “Calling all the shots while Minseok shook his head at us in shame but secret affection.”   “I don’t do that,” Minseok immediately mutters, glaring at the taller man, “I do it in complete shame because what kind of leader would I be if I enforced my team to fight against each other all the time?”   “A special kind,” he hears Zitao say, but it catches Minseok off-guard because he swore he heard Lu Han in his voice. He looks at him wide-eyed but Zitao is already staring back down at Lu Han in the casket, and he knows he’s hearing things. “What were you doing getting yourself into trouble like this?”   Minseok’s already tried asking Lu Han this, tracing the burn marks along his face and neck. He’s searched for answers in the scars that litter his body and all he’s gotten in return are painful memories and horrific nightmares of Lu Han crashing and burning in an explosion of lit gasoline, without him there.   “We’re going to find out what happened,” Zitao reassures softly as he walks closer and leans forward to kiss Lu Han’s cold forehead, “And we’re going to make sure you’re still with us wherever we go.”       It’s hard to concentrate on driving when Minseok’s so used to having someone sitting on his lap, kissing the living daylights out of him and trying to mess up his driving when they both knew it was nearly impossible.   Minseok remembers slow, lazy kisses on Sunday mornings, Lu Han always wanting to try and have a normal life and simply travel with the luxurious cars they could afford after their last heist with their team. It usually always remained that way – sweet, domestic kisses – but sometimes, it would escalate if the scent of nicotine were especially strong on Minseok. He starts when he feels a hand grab his own, forgetting there was someone else in the car with him. But the grip is familiar, simply cupping his hand like when they were only children.   “I’m trying, Seok,” Jongdae murmurs, glancing at him worriedly, “Whoever did this to him, I’m going to find out.”   Really, Minseok is glad Jongdae chose to ride with him instead of driving his own car, taking any free chance he has in searching all the databases and security cameras in China to try and find out what happened to his friend. But it only reminds him of the times he’s caught Lu Han and Jongdae cuddling on the couch, Lu Han trying to comfort Jongdae when he couldn’t. He doesn’t flinch when Jongdae reaches over with his other hand and slips a small receiver and microphone into his ear.   “Zitao is calling up his connections,” Yifan informs him, driving past him on the road. “We’ll let you know if something comes up.”   Minseok hums shortly before he gives a response, looking over to Jongdae and seeing Lu Han’s kindness reflecting back at him. “I remember Lu Han mentioning flowers,” he says, gaze focusing on Jongdae’s confused expression, “The week before he left, he mentioned Gerbera daisies.” He pauses, the memory coming back to him amongst all the others. “I thought it was odd because those aren’t his favorite flowers.”   “We can do something with that,” Yixing assures as he drives behind him, “Jongdae, look up the closest gardens and botanicals with those flowers, especially those around the site. I’ll check out the places there.”   Panic flares in Minseok’s chest at the suggestion, heart constricting and hands squeezing on the steering wheel as he tries to drag air into his lungs. It has Jongdae calling out to him, but all he can hear is a static buzz in his head. He only comes out of it when he drifts and almost swerves into Zitao, gasping as he looks over to see him giving him a worried stare. The click of a lighter brings his attention back to Jongdae, hand outstretched as if to cup his cheek and check him to make sure he’s okay.   Lu Han used to use the sound of a lighter being flicked on to shift him out of his thoughts.   “Are you alright?” Jongdae asks, quietly reporting to the others that he appeared to be going into a panic attack. “Do we need to stop? Do you need a smoke?”   Minseok shakes his head, staring at him warily before returning his focus on the road in front of him. “I’m fine,” he says, voice suddenly raspy. “Yixing,” he calls out, hearing a quiet hum in return, “Take Zitao with you. Nobody goes alone unless it’s on my order.”   Silence rings in return, but he knows they understand his quiet reasoning.       It takes days trying to figure out what Lu Han was up to, and it frustrates Minseok even more because he should know what the love of his life was up to. He’s speeding through the streets, chasing after his friends, that he doesn’t remember driving up to their old apartment complex in Beijing. They follow him up the winding path, and all exit their cars to look up at the rundown building.   There are still people who live here, shown by the way clothes hang on strings and pins outside the windows, but they don’t pay them any mind if they happen to see them. They simply stare up at it, reminiscing of old times where they would always get noise complaints, and Minseok suddenly misses it, looking to his side and expecting Lu Han to be standing there, but it’s Zitao instead. His heart drops, shatters into a million pieces when he remembers, and he thinks maybe just this once, he’ll let himself cry to balance the score between him and his love.   The last time Lu Han cried was for Ironman.   Minseok relishes, soaks in the warmth of the hugs his friends gives him, allows him to use them as pillows to soak his tears as if it was the dead of night. Memories of them attempting their first heist, huddling together as if they were play