“He’s cute.”

Jongin points to the person laughing on the other side of the coffee shop. There was something too familiar about the twinkling eyes and fluffy blond hair.

“It’s rude to point.”

Although Jongin drops his hand, Sehun looks at the boy for a good while before shivering in the winter cold and gulping down a mouthful of his vanilla latte. He looks back up just in time to see the blond steal a kiss from the brunet sitting across from him.

Sehun splutters and buries his head in his arms, wishing to erase the sight from his mind.

“Hey are you okay?” Jongin is over with a napkin.

He shakes his head.

“He’s cute.”

Lu Han points to a tan person at the vending machine on the other side of the cafeteria.

Sehun’s voice is shaky, “You think so?”

“More like hot, I think,” Lu Han giggles, “he looks flexible.”

By this point, Sehun is sure his cheeks are a vibrant scarlet and buries his head in his arms, silently weeping to himself.

“Hey are you okay?” Lu Han pries away his arms, looking at Sehun with twinkling eyes and smiles.

He shakes his head.

He sees him three days later on the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge, an arm slung lazily over a new raven-haired boy.

Sehun grasps Jongin’s hand quickly and squeezes it, flashing a tight smile as he rushes past Lu Han and the new mystery boy. Maybe it was the nerves or the desperation to escape but he could have sworn he’d felt someone brush his other free hand.

Lu Han appears at the Eiffel Tower a week later, during Sehun and Jongin’s rendezvous in Paris.

They sit down for dinner on the second floor that night four tables away from Lu Han and his new a boyfriend, a redhead this time. It doesn’t take a genius to realise that Sehun is upset when he picks at his crème brûlée.

The more laughter that erupts from Lu Han’s table, the paler Sehun becomes. So Jongin offers to pay the bill while Sehun rushes to the restroom.

“Hey.”

“Are you following me?” Sehun points an accusatory finger towards Lu Han.

“I don’t know,” he smiles, “am I?”

“What are you doing here?”

“How’s Jongin?”

“Not bad, how’s the redhead?” Sehun scowls.

“He’s really funny, and I love him a lot,” Lu Han stares hard at Sehun, “but I’m breaking up with him cause he’s not the one I’m looking for.”

Sehun scoffs, “You left me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do me a favour and leave me alone.”

“I can’t.”

Lu Han shoves him against the marble walls of the bathroom and presses his lips to Sehun’s.

Somewhere between the pastries behind glass displays and the Paris breeze, Sehun loses Lu Han.

His hands are cold as they struggle to balance the crumpled brown paper bag containing his baguettes and croissants. And for the first time, Lu Han isn’t there to lend a helping hand or catch the bread as it falls and rolls out onto the path.

People snicker around him as he bends down to pick them up.

A pair of feet stand in front of him as a tan arm reaches out with a baguette in hand.

“Hi Sehun.”

“I have come to the conclusion that he’s a doppelgänger.”

“Oh really?” Jongin snorts.

They stand on Blackfriars Bridge in a bundle of trench coats and woollen scarves. Sehun blows out puffs of air to warm up his frozen white hands and rubs them together, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that he’s following us. Why would he though, Jongin?”

Jongin stares at Sehun with a blank face.

“Why are you so obsessed?”

“I’m not–”

A kiss.

“Then start acting like it.”

“Lu Han–”

“Will you shut up,” Jongin slams his book down.

It’s a complete understatement to say that Sehun was taken aback. For the first time, he realises how many times he brings up Lu Han in a single conversation, and apologises.

“You still love him,” Jongin sighs and leans back in the armchair, lighting the cigarette that dangles out of his mouth.

“I don’t!” Sehun cries, a little too quickly.

A little too unconvincingly.

The clock strikes midnight and the fireworks start.

Somewhere between the crowds of spectators, the smoke, and the brilliant colours in the sky, Sehun loses Jongin. He murmurs a bunch of words like “excuse me” and “sorry” and “can you move your bloody ” until he sees Jongin in the distance waving at him. Then his eyes harden as they focus on something behind Sehun.

“Where are you going?” he shouts as Jongin as he turns around and walks away but his words are eaten up by the crackle of the fireworks.

It’s not until he feels a thin arm snake around his arm does he realise why he’d lost him.

“Happy New Year, Sehun,” a voice whispers into his ear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Sehun spins around and kisses Luhan right there, in the London snow, under the first night sky of 2014.