three times is a charm

It’s Monday when Luhan wakes up with the sound of raindrops hitting the window glass echoing in his bedroom, a mess of limbs tangled in wrinkled white sheets and strands of hair defying gravity. He reaches for his cellphone on the nightstand with clumsy, lazy movements of his right hand- it’s half past five in the morning, and Luhan screeches ungracefully as the bright light burns holes into his corneas. He manages to stop his alarm twenty seconds before it can destroy his eardrums, his poor eardrums that a soft pillow is trying desperately to shield from any kind of unwanted noise. Luhan thinks he might be blind- black dancing dots decorate his vision as his index fingers rub his eyes to get rid of his sleepiness. Then, maybe because his stomach is as empty as it can be or perhaps because his bladder screams for release, Luhan decides to get up anyway. He stumbles on a polished pair of shoes on his way to the bathroom, soft curses under his breath and a light grey bowtie hanging from the door handle. He tosses the piece of silky fabric behind his back carelessly, not even watching as it lands on the floor along with the remaining parts of the suit he wore on Sunday. His fingers tease the wall sensually until they can finally find the light switch, and Luhan screeches again when his little toe smashes against the corner of his closet. He screeches when the cold water drowns him in the shower too, and he screeches once more when shampoo accidentally gets into his eyes. 

Luhan emerges alive from the bathroom with thick glasses on the tip of his button nose, bangs wrapped in a cute pink hairband and the taste of minty toothpaste on his tongue. He makes himself a quick but nutritious breakfast (is leftover Chinese food even considered as breakfast?) and feeds his two cats as well, greeting them both with a quick kiss on their little hairy heads. He turns on the television and watches his favorite anime, chopsticks digging in his bowl of microwaved rice, fresh soy sauce stains appearing on his t-shirt whenever he laughs with his mouth full. 

It’s seven o’clock when Luhan decides that work can’t wait anymore. He puts a heavy coat on his pajamas (even though it’s mid-April already) because changing clothes = more laundry, slips his converse on and he’s out. He doesn’t go that far actually; Yixing’s tiny café is right under his apartment, so he only has to walk for a few minutes before seeing his friend’s smile. The smell of crushed coffee beans makes Luhan’s eyes roll back in pleasure. 

“Americano?” Yixing is all dimples and sleepy eyes as he asks his old friend for his order. Luhan met the barista during his first year of high school, when he still had braces and a cheap Iron Man backpack. Luhan was playing soccer with some friends and he kicked the ball so hard that it hit Yixing in the head, but the latter just smiled and introduced himself (“Please let me take you to the hospital you’re bleeding” to which Yixing replied with a laid-back “What? I’m not bleeding, I’m Yixing. What’s your name?”). They became friends quickly and their bond lasted even after their senior graduation, which is a miracle in Luhan’s opinion, since his other ex-classmates don’t even wave at him nowadays.

“Americano” Luhan nods with the enthusiasm of a kid and fingers tapping impatiently on the counter. Yixing asks about Sunday, about his last date, about his family. Luhan has to blink a few times because even though he’s chatting with his best friend, it’s still Monday and it’s still too early for his brain to properly function. 

Eventually, after taking a few sips from his steaming cup, Luhan talks about the last wedding he organized. Even though he could go shopping with the bags under his tired eyes, a light always appears in his irises everytime he mentions his job. He says that the couple invited more or less the whole city, they requested thousands of red roses because the bride’s favorite color was deep red, they had a very specific idea for the wedding cake and they also wanted two bands playing during the celebration because apparently one wasn’t enough. The fact that Luhan collapsed on his bed at two am, limbs heavy and head heavier, doesn’t really matter, because the couple complimented his work for at least half an hour without stopping and they said that they would totally recommend him as wedding planner to all their friends. He left with pride in his chest and tears of joy pooling in the corner of his eyes.

“You love your job, don’t you?” Yixing smiles and he’s all dimples again, back resting against the coffee machine and a content expression lingering on his face.

“They were so in love, Xing, you should have seen them” Luhan replies as he shakes his head, fingers warming themselves around his cup and his glasses slightly fogged. He goes on and talks about the wedding dress, the buffet, lunch, the groom’s tuxedo, the djs, the flowers and only stops when his friend asks about his last date with this guy named Yifan. Ouch.

“He’s scary,” Luhan shivers, “his hands are bigger than my head” and he’s not even joking. 

Luhan has to leave because Yixing can’t stop laughing and he has work to do anyway, so he throws some coins on the counter and stomps outside with his fashionable outfit. He hides behind a column with a pale face when Yifan’s towering height catches his attention in the crowd, and he literally sprints away as soon as the giant crosses the road. They promised to go out again because after all Yifan enjoyed their date at the pub and Luhan, well Luhan just can’t say no to anyone, so he agreed.

When he’s safe and sound in his room, Luhan turns on his laptop and checks his e-mails. Most of them are from work, so he takes his time and makes sure he doesn’t skip any of them. There are e-mails from his clients, e-mails from companies, e-mails from people trying to sell some kind of stuff for erectile disfunction (wait. better ignore those ones) and there’s also an e-mail from his cousin living in South Korea. it’s not like Luhan doesn’t like his family- it’s just that he doesn’t have time. He doesn’t even have time to take care of himself, how is he supposed to take a break just to have a nice dinner with them? He seriously tries his best anyway- he calls his parents every two months, he sends birthday cards, he calls on birthdays and replies on every comment his relatives leave on his Facebook wall. 

He opens the e-mail anyway because Luhan is a good cousin and good cousins don’t ignore their other cousins, but the more he reads it, the more he can feel a headache coming. He sits more comfortably on the bed and sets the laptop aside, fingers quickly pressing numbers on his cellphone and a very uncomfortable feeling in his tummy.

to: xingxing

my cousin is getting married she asked me 2 organize the whole thing 

to: luge

which one?

to: xingxing

the one living in s.k.

to: luge

nice!! send me a postcard from seoul! ^^ and send me pics too!! 

to: xingxing

i don’t want 2 go

to: luge

don’t be a ty cousin :( 

Luhan stares at the cellphone screen with dead eyes. He isn’t a ty cousin, okay? He just doesn’t want to sit on a thing that flies in the sky- birds should do that, not big machines filled with tons of people. He could delete the e-mail, but that’s something a coward would do and knowing his cousin, by now the whole country knows that she’s getting married. He can’t escape his fate even if he tries, so he checks his planner anyway. Maybe he could reply that he’s busy, but family is family and it comes before work, so once again he finds himself turning pages of his notebook with a frustrated sigh. His cousin wants to get married in June, on the third, and Luhan grimaces when he finds out that the space next to that date (and around it) is blank. 

He decides to set it aside for now, almost sure that his cousin would understand. He needs his time to organize stuff and to prepare himself mentally and also to sort things out, which is just a lame excuse to hide the fact that no, he really doesn’t want to organize that particular wedding and he doesn’t have the strength to deal with this right now. He also doesn’t want to be the only cousin left who is still single, and he doesn’t want to spend so much time away from home. 

Luhan has been to Seoul before; back when he was still in university, both his cousin Mei and him decided to study foreign languages together because honestly it seemed like something cool to do. They packed their suitcases a month after graduation and landed in Seoul with wide, happy grins and their chest filled with hope. They shared a house, got a part-time job at Starbucks, cried and laughed together until Mei began to date this guy and Luhan kinda felt like he was just a burden. He started feeling like Korean was too hard for him, the job was too tiring, the food was too spicy, the air too humid and a bunch of other things that made him pack his bags (again) and come back to Beijing. Mei decided to stay and eventually Luhan stopped hearing from her. Until now, that is. 

To distract himself, Luhan tidies up his messy room- he changes the sheets, opens the window to inhale the scent of wet cement, gets rid of the elegant suit still on the floor. 

Beijing is a big grey blob whenever it rains. Luhan goes out again, this time with a proper set of clothes instead of his Iron Man pajamas, and hold his black umbrella tightly while he’s waiting for the traffic light to turn green. Monday is such a ty day, he finds himself thinking when cars splash water everywhere and tiny little raindrops fall on his shoes. He stops in front of a flower shop, the one where he usually buys flowers for wedding bouquets, and waves at the granny who’s arranging some fresh roses in front of the shop window. There are some beautiful white peonies on display and they are also on sale, so Luhan keeps that in mind when he finally reaches his office.

It’s ten o’clock when Wishes opens up, white lace curtains pulled aside and a nice set of albums arranged on shelves. Luhan tries to keep himself as busy as his job allows, always organizing meetings with clients and contacting other shops to talk about prices, but that e-mail keeps tormenting him in the most painful way and the worst thing is that in his mind, deep deep down, he’s already decided to accept. 

Monday is really a ty day, Luhan decides when the last client leaves right after dinner time, apologetic smile on his face and business card dancing between his fingers. Luhan says he doesn’t really mind, he hopes to meet the man again soon to settle some details down and sends him off with a polite bow. He goes home without his umbrella because a little boy forgot his own and Luhan didn’t want him to catch a cold, which ironically is what happens to him the day after.

Tuesday is ty as well, Luhan complains to Yixing with a runny nose and a burning throat after consuming his daily dose of caffeine. He sneezes and Yixing shakes his head with a sad, small smile.

“When will you start caring about yourself?” he asks softly, and Luhan sneezes again, eyes damp. Probably never.

Suddenly it’s Friday and the e-mail is still there, in one of those many folders, ready to receive an answer. Luhan promises to himself that he will reply after collecting his bills and some others random envelopes, but as soon as he opens one of them, he realizes he doesn’t have to. There’s a plane ticket for Seoul just for him, and he swears his heart dies a little after noticing that his flight is in two weeks. He takes the little sticky note with a smiley face on it and tears it apart with his own fingers, feeling like he loves his cousin a little less. 

Luhan has no choice anymore but to say yes, and in his e-mail he tries his best to sound excited- he’s not, by the way (he hopes the exaggeration of exclamation points will save his ). Yixing helps him pack because honestly he feels bad for his friend- his miserable aura is even grayer than the cloudy sky that’s been covering Beijing for the past month. Luhan chooses suits and casual clothes, wedding magazines and his planner, his pills for headaches (he has a feeling he will need those even more than once a day) and his albums where he keeps pics of his past works for inspiration. 

“I organize weddings and yet I can’t get my own” Luhan mumbles bitterly as his hands fold his fifth white shirt nicely, placing it on top of the others- white shirts are handy and they fit him very well, so he makes sure to have enough of those. He places his razor and his shaving cream inside his little bag too because he doesn’t want to look like a homeless man, but at the same time he really couldn’t care less about anything else than the delicious dinner Yixing promised to treat him to. 

“Should I bring the black tie or the navy blue one?” Luhan asks with a very flustered tone and a very loud groan, holding the two ties and wondering where the hell he had put his grey bowtie. His friend looks at him and simply shrugs. “Is there even a difference?” he asks, and Luhan rolls his eyes. Thinking that no one actually gives a about it, Luhan shoves both his ties in a corner of his suitcase and moves forward.

Luhan spends the rest of his days between looking at the three suitcases near his door and sighing loudly just like a real drama actor would do, plane ticket staring at him with evil eyes and heart beating heavily in his chest. Eventually it’s the day before the big event and Luhan tries not to cry when his two cats look at him as for saying ‘where are you going?’, but Yixing tells him that he will take care of them like they are his brothers and Luhan doesn’t really know how to feel about that- because Yixing is an only child, after all.

—

Whoever invented concealer and stuff like that should be considered as a life savior, Luhan decides while he’s literally smearing a spoonful of creamy beige stuff under his dark circles in a poor attempt to make them, well, less dark.

“They can’t know you haven’t been sleeping for three days, Luhan” he mutters to himself as the pilot announces they’re about to get there, making him almost drop his whole beauty-case. Luhan tries really hard to ignore how the lady next to him is eyeing him, but it’s not like he has to wait for much longer- as soon as the passengers are free to leave, he launches himself down the stairs and tries not to tear up when his feet can finally stomp on earth. Dirty, steady, hard, beloved earth. 

Seoul is apparently a big grey blob whenever it rains, too. Luhan listens as heavy big raindrops dance on a girl’s red umbrella, eyes tired and stomach growling from hunger. Suddenly, maybe because nostalgia is something that will always live with him or perhaps because his tongue is not used to different kinds of coffee, the americano resting on his table tastes like dusty water and he starts to miss Yixing’s magical hands. Luhan stirs his coffee with annoyed movements, eyelids heavy and fingers tapping on the dark wood. He doesn’t like airports, he doesn’t like hearing suitcases being dragged on the linoleum, he doesn’t like listening to the mechanic voice announcing departures and arrivals, he doesn’t like having damp clothes and he doesn’t like the headache that’s pounding loudly in his brain. 

He pays (and complains under his breath too, because that americano wasn’t worth a single damn penny) and soon he finds himself sitting on a random bench, three suitcases next to him and anxious gaze fixed on his cellphone screen. Mei is late, obviously, because Luhan’s sure as hell he’s not early. He sends a text to Yixing to assure him his heart is still functioning- Yixing replies with a cute emoji and says that his cats are fine. He’s about to ask his friend another thing when he receives a short text from his cousin, in which she basically says she’s terribly busy so she’s sending her fiancé to collect Luhan instead of her. 

Luhan doesn’t even know his face. He types quickly a very passive-aggressive ‘okay’ and shoves the cellphone inside his jeans, eyes now scanning the crowd searching for a sign- anything that could help him find Mei’s soon to be groom, but luck is never on his side. Literally. 

It’s ten o’clock in the morning and he feels like one of those children who lost their mother inside a huge supermarket, except that he has no clue what his cousin’s boyfriend looks like. Back when Luhan was a boy, Mei used to date a tall guy named Sehun or something (Luhan remembers his ugly red braces and his funny lisp very well, for many reasons). His cousin, anyway, has always been a very cryptic person. Even in her e-mails, she didn’t even bother to give Luhan details about the ceremony- or about her boyfriend, about her financial situation and about everything else. But Luhan accepted anyway because he’s simply too good for this world. 

It’s a quarter past ten and he’s starting to question his life choices. Maybe he should have stayed at home, because honestly he’s a busy man, he has places to see and people to meet, and looking at the raindrops falling down the windows is a big, useless, pathetic waste of time. With a sigh, Luhan fishes out the first wedding magazine he finds from one of his suitcases and starts reading it- not really, he just flips pages randomly just because he needs a way to kill the time. There are a few interesting articles about new styles and trends that Luhan would like to try out, so he takes out his cellphone to take a picture but-

“Luhan?”

As Luhan lifts his face from the magazine, his eyes instantly meet the most realistic representation of the man of his dreams (all kind of dreams) and suddenly his brain is desperately trying to understand how can someone like that even know his name. Tall, lean, strong, sharp gaze and sharp jaw, designer glasses carefully placed on his thin nose, full pink lips and a wonderful, oh so wonderful deep voice. There’s some sincere disbelief painted on the stranger’s face, a face that Luhan would gladly commit to for the rest of his days. 

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