Luhan woke up with a start, eyes blinking open wide and unfocused for a moment, mouth feeling like he’d filled it with peanut butter the night before and forgotten about it.

And where the hell was he?

A quick look to the side showed a lump in the bed next to him, a lump that Luhan had little memory of, and a bed that he most certainly knew wasn’t his own. The pounding in his head, the after effect of some evil substance called soju that he instantly vowed never to drink again, was making it hard to think. But he sort of remembered the night before. Sort of.

He remembered the bar, and he remembered Tao and Lay buying him drinks to commemorate finally telling his parents off, and then he remembered … a dare?

Slowly, and with a gentle hand, Luhan peeled back the blanket of the man next to him.

At least he’d picked a winner. The man sleeping curled onto his side, on hand tucked up to his chest and the other underneath a fluffy white pillow, was extremely good looking. With angular features this man, whoever he was, was attractive. And a further look down his body proved that he was nicely built as well, with defined arms, powerful looking shoulders, and the hint of abs that were probably more existent than the man’s sleeping position allowed for.

Because there’d been a dare.

That was right. Now Luhan remembered a dare. He’d had shots with Tao, argued about something, bet something, lost something, and now it all seemed rather comical, but he’d been dared to kiss the person of Tao’s choosing. Thank god it had been someone attractive, and someone Luhan probably would have wanted to sleep with anyway, though he seriously doubted Tao or Lay had expected him to go home with this man.

Luhan wasn’t sure why he’d done it in the first place, either than the fact that he’d clearly had way too much to drink.

And the kisses. Luhan remembered the kisses. They’d been very good. And the man’s hands had been big and warm and almost felt safe when he put them on Luhan’s shoulders and waist and then cupped his cheek for a controlled kiss. He’d seemed big and strong without being imposing, like a solid mass that would take care of him.

It was infinitely stupid to go home with someone from a bar he’d met through random kissing, and the twinge in his backside agreed, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

Sliding from the impressive bed he’d slept in, Luahn gave an appreciative look around the room. It was well furnished, full of clean lines and a modern feel. It was impressively expensive, though not obscenely so, and it was certainly a far cry from the loft that Luhan kept. Not better though. Luhan rather preferred his small but cozy nook in Seoul, full of his art and his knickknacks and his personality.

Finding his shirt was easy enough. It was crumpled by the door, creased in a way that made him want to iron it right away, but perfectly intact. He slid it over his head, the shirt helping with the chill of the house, and then set off to look for his pants.

He found his boxers near the bedroom’s bathroom door, thankfully enough, then continued on his way.

His cell phone was what he was truly after. He had to find his phone and let his friends know he was okay. Anyway, what kind of friends were they to let him just go off with a strange man? Luhan could have been picked up by a serial killer, and for all they knew, he could be in a million pieces in someone’s meat locker.

Not all good looking men had good intentions. Luhan knew that personally.

Leaving the bedroom took him down a long hall, past other closed doors, three which he counted, and one that was cracked. He gave pause at the cracked door, natural curiosity eating at him for just a minute before he pressed on. He didn’t need to get distracted. He needed his pants and his phone and hopefully his wallet. He needed to get out of the house before the man upstairs woke up, and he absolutely had to avoid any kind of awkwardness.

Luhan had never done the proverbial walk of shame, and he wasn’t about to start now.

So down the stairs he went, hand sliding against the banister, and down into the living room that was just as modern as the bedroom, but this room felt a lot more lived in.

The couch had creases, indicating someone sat on it a lot. There were photographs lining the walls, rolled up magazines hanging from a wrack, and all the evidence in the world that the room was well used and probably well loved.

But still Luhan couldn’t find his pants.

Picked up speed, he passed through the pristine kitchen, and then there was the formal dinning room, the lounge area, and even the pantry.

He was beginning to give up hope when he spotted his pants in a heap at the back of the foyer … where they had likely been stripped from him moments after entering the house. Of course.

Luhan made a beeline for the pants, and would have made it without incident if he hadn’t skidded to a stop prematurely, completely distracted by the art hanging from the nearby wall.

It was only distracting because it was his art. It was his art on the wall.

Luhan had come from China to South Korea to study. He’d been able to talk his parents into such a thing only by citing that it was a learning experience in and of itself, would give him a chance to pick up a second language, and held all the promise of transforming him into the dedicated businessman they’d hoped for since he’d been born. They’d let him come because he’d lied about coming back more interested in his father’s company, when really he would have said anything to get away from the way his father gripped him tightly enough to bruise and his mother told him constantly that he was letting them down.

Instead he came to South Korea to be free and to hone a hobby that he wanted to make his career. He did go the university, and in fact he was still enrolled, looking to finish his degree very shortly, but most of his time and dedication was devoted to his artwork. To his painting. He held all the passion in the world for art, wanted to have a gallery of his own one day, and sold his work at the café that his friend Kris’s parents owned, the downstairs part to the building that he lived in.

Few people bought his art, which was more impressionistic and abstract than anything else, but he’d sold a few pieces in the months since he’d finally given in and let Kris put them up for sale. He’d sold three. Now he was looking at all three.

With a shaking hand he reached out to touch the canvass of the painting nearest him. He remembered painting that specific piece right after hearing form his parents that they expected him to return home to China sooner, rather than later. He’d painted it knowing their patience was wearing thin, and that they were likely becoming suspicious that he’d been staying in Korea for the holidays and telling them nothing of his school work.

He didn’t particularly think they wanted to hear about how he’d declared himself in the liberal arts department, and not the business one.

So he’d painted out his feelings, in splotches of black and red and blue. And when one canvass hadn’t been enough space, he’d expanded to two, then three. It had actually been quite difficult part with the paintings, but the extremely nice man who’d bought the series had said he felt an emotional connection to the paintings, and to the energy it gave off. He’d liked the art for its anger and frustration, but also its honesty, and he’d wanted the pieces so badly he’d been willing to offer double to Luhan what he was asking at the time.

For such a visceral and honest response, Luahn might have given them to him for free.

So what were the three pieces doing now in this hose? This house of all houses.

Luhan tried to think back to exactly that the man who’d bought the paintings looked like. He’d been attractive, Luhan remembered that, but gentle in a way that men usually weren’t, though certainly not weak. He’d been respectful and polite and he’d shaken Luhan’s hand with a surprisingly strong grip. Most disturbing he’d looked almost too much like Luhan himself. They’d had a good laugh over it for a minute or two, wondering if either of their families were hiding a dark secret from them.

The man had left a lasting impression on Luhan for days, but he most certainly was not the man that was asleep upstairs.

It was a curious thing.

The lock on the font door turned.

Luhan froze, standing in a shirt and his boxers, and wondered if the shame that he’d been hoping to avoid was about to become impossible. Oh god, did the man have a roommate or two? Or worse, a significant other?

It was a man in the doorway, carrying a bundle of groceries, and he had a shocked expression the second he saw Luhan. He was also blocking Luhan’s path to his pants.

“Who are you?” the man asked with a dark expression, holding car keys in one hand almost like a weapon. “Where’s Sehun?”

Sehun. Huh. So that was the man’s name. Sehun.

Luhan put his hands up a little defensively. “This is awkward, I’ll admit that, but it’s not what you think. I’m not breaking in or anything.”

The man eyed him suspiciously. “Then what are you doing here?”

Luhan gnawed on his bottom lip for a second, then gave a finger point up to the stairs. “I … umm … drank a lot last night. And …”

Recognition passed over the man’s face, and then there was the addition of disbelief. “Sehun brought you home last night?”

His face heating terribly with embarrassment, Luhan said, “We both had a lot to drink. We didn’t drive.”

“I know,” the man said with some relief.

Luhan gave a gesture down to his pants, near the man’s feet. “I just want to get my pants and I’ll go. This was just a random thing. I’m not looking for a relationship and I really don’t want to be here when the guy from last night--Sehun, wakes up. I just want to get my pants and I’ll be out of here.”

Wordlessly the man stepped to the side, giving Luhan more than enough time to get his pants and slide them on. A quick look to his phone showed that he had quite a few messages from various people, including Tao and Lay.

“Oh, no.” His phone was there, but his wallet wasn’t.

“Sehun really brought you home?”

Luhan’s head jerked up, towards the man. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He searched his pockets again, desperately hoping that he’d find the wallet the second time over. No wallet meant no money, and he wasn’t even sure where he was.

“Nothing,” the man said, shaking his head. Then he paused, squinted a little and said, “It’s crazy how much you kind of look like …” Then he was stopping again.

There was no wallet. Luhan was absolutely sure. His wallet was gone, and had probably fallen out in the cab, or at the bar, and was long gone. He’d have to call someone to come pick him up, and hope that they weren’t too far out on the fringes of Seoul.

“What’s the matter?” the man asked, starting at him.

With a huff, Luhan admitted, “My wallet is gone. Do you know what this address is? Do you live here?”

The man shook his head. “My brother-in-law lives here. I was coming to check on him after he went missing from a bar last night with a friend of his.”

“Not missing,” Luhan said, scrolling through his contacts. “He’s sleeping upstairs.” Lay. He’d call Lay. Lay didn’t work until the afternoon, had his own car, and was nice enough to feel guilty over Luhan leaving the bar with a stranger. Lay would come get him.

“Here.”

Luhan looked up from his phone to see the man holding out money towards him, and quite a bit of it.

“You can’t be serious,” Luhan said, feeling severely insulted. “Are you actually trying to pay me? For what? My services? I’m sorry to tell you I’m not a hooker.”

The man the money at Luhan more firmly, and eyebrow arched. “Actually it’s for a cab. I take it you can’t find your wallet? I mean, you can use the money to take the bus if you want, but you look a little rough from drinking last night, so you could probably do with a cab, and I don’t know what made Sehun take you home last night, but you probably did him a favor.” The man’s shoulders fell. “Some of us were afraid he’d walk away and not come back. I don’t know what it means that he showed an interest in you, but at least it’s something.”

Luhan continued to eye the money warily. “An interest? We were both drunk and that’s it.”

“Fair enough,” the man said, “now take the money. You can reimburse me later if that’s what you really want. But go get a cab.”

Against his better judgment, Luhan took the money. As little as he liked the idea of owning money to someone, he liked even less the thought of sitting on the curb waiting for Lay to pick him up.

“Thanks,” Luhan said, stuffing the money in his pocket. “I’ll do that, I’ll reimburse you.”

The man shrugged.

Luhan made a beeline for the door, his hand curling around the handle. He braced himself to meet the sunlight, a terrible headache pounding in his head. Then he paused. He turned back to the man in the foyer, the brother-in-law to the man he’d just slept with and asked, “Do you know where these paintings came from?”

The man looked absolutely surprised, his eyes flickering over to the three pieces on the wall. “Those?” He clearly wasn’t sure, then said, “My brother must have bought them. He really loved art. He loved artists even more. Guess that’s why he married Sehun.”

Luhan felt his stomach knot up immaturely. Of course he’d gone and slept with a married man. Of course. That was Luhan’s life at the moment.

“Damn,” he said, tugging his fingers through his bangs. How could he have thought anything different about Sehun? The man was exceedingly attractive, seemed nice enough from what Luhan could remember from the bar and the trip to the house, and was obviously quite well off. How could he not be married?

Though it begged the question why Sehun’s husband’s brother was so okay with the fact that Sehun and Luhan had just slept together, but Luhan wasn’t going to be picky. It wasn’t his fight to get involved with.

“Why?” the man asked, turning back to Luahn. “They are pretty, I guess, in a weird kind of way.”

Luhan shook his head. “Never mind.” Then he was descending the steps to the house, intent on putting it from his mind completely.

Didn’t everyone have at least one drunken encounter in their life? Didn’t everyone make a mistake that they regretted in their younger years? This was Luhan’s. Him sleeping with a married man was Luhan’s one free pass.

Before leaving completely Luhan took note of the address, fully intent on giving the money back at the first opportunity, then called for a cab and headed home.

Home was a tiny loft above a busy coffee shop located less than a block away from a presidios university. It was premier in its location and meant that the coffee shop was always packed with students, and also meant that they were constantly understaffed. Luhan had a job waiting for him any time he wanted, which he was certain he’d have to take Kris up on sooner, rather than later. He hadn’t heard from his parents yet that he’d been cut off, but neither had he checked his bank account. It was likely closed by now.

Most days Luhan liked to go through the coffee shop to get to his loft. He loved the smell of coffee, enjoyed the fact that there was always someone in the corner strumming a guitar or leading the patrons in some kind of sing-a-long, and he absolutely craved the atmosphere of the shop that screamed how inclusive it was, and how it wasn’t pretentious in the slightest bit. Not like the Starbucks that had moved in across the street and Kris had declared war on based on principle alone.

The coffee show was eclectic, and that’s why Luhan thought it was better than Starbucks. None of the chairs matched, there were sofas instead of tables mostly, and the carpet was stained with coffee in a way that no one cared about. From the ceiling hung snow flakes even in June, and the baristas made a point of memorizing their repeat customer’s orders. It was the kind of shop that a guy could sit in for eight hours and not have to worry about being asked to leave from, and it was the best place in the world for making friends.

But for the moment Luhan took the side entrance, climbing past the middle floor that Lay lived in, and up to the third where he collapsed on his own bed and buried his face in his arms.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration running up his leg, but he ignored it.

“Ugh,” he grunted out, irritated that he’d gotten wasted enough to go home with a married man, and that his friends hadn’t stopped him, and that he’d had and hadn’t even …

Luhan shot up from the bed, absolutely terrified at the thoughts that were running though his mind at the moment.

He’d had . He’d had unprotected .

“Xiumin,” Luhan said the moment the line clicked over and he could hear his best friend’s greeting on the other end. “I need you to … I have to ask …”

To his credit, Xiumin could sense something was wrong with him immediately, and asked, “What’s going on? Luhan, breathe.”

In a rush Luhan explained what had happened, and then said, “What if I got something? What if this guy, this Sehun, wasn’t clean? What if I…”

Xiumin, who’d been Luhan’s guide via the university for a full semester as he learned the language, was probably the most responsible guy Luhan had ever met in his life. He was currently studying to get his veterinarian license, worked part time at the coffee shop, and still made time for Luhan who couldn’t get enough of Korea and its food and its tourist spots and all the things that Xiumin probably didn’t want to do or see. Xiumin becoming Luhan’s best friend had been a gradual thing, certainly not an instantaneous, and Luhan had never been more thankful for the man.

“Luhan,” Xiumin said in a disappointed way, then added, “are you at home? I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Xiumin made it in twelve, driving the car his parents had gotten him the previous spring, and he had a dark look waiting for Luhan when he got in.

“I know,” Luhan said, already feeling shame.

“You know?” Xiumin questioned, fingers white knuckled on the steering wheel. “You know that you just went and did something that can ruin your life? You know that you are actually risking your life, by having unprotected ? Luhan, you know that not using protection is not using your brain?”

“I know,” Luhan said with a huff. “I know, Xiumin. I was drunk.”

He could barely remember Sehun. He could barely remember the cab and having at all. There’d been so much alcohol in him, and so much lust running through his body that he hadn’t been able to spare a single thought for protection. It was stupid and horrible and his own damn fault, but the last thing he wanted was a lecture from his friend.

“You think being drunk is an excuse?”

Luhan banged his head against the car window. “It isn’t. Christ, Xiumin, I know I screwed up.” After a few more moments of silence he asked, “Where are we going?”

“To see my sister,” Xiumin said sharply. “To get you tested.”

Xiumin’s sister was a pediatrician and Luhan had met her more than a couple times, finding her personable, charismatic and absolutely charming. She also had a kind hand when treating her patients and Luhan felt better at the notion that she’d be the one seeing him shortly.

But the next few hours were still excruciatingly painful. Stripped down to a hospital gown, he sat in the private clinic she worked in and had his blood drawn, swallowed down a morning after pill, and went through a litany of tests that were humiliating.

“How long will it take for me to know?” Luhan asked her nervously, feet swinging from the high bed he sat on. The paper underneath him crinkled as he shifted.

Xiumin’s sister, who was looking at him with the same comforting expression she gave to children, said, “This office isn’t equipped to deal with the kind of extensive blood work necessary to determine if you’ve contracted anything from syphilis to HIV, so I’m going to have to send you blood out to another lab. It’ll be a few weeks at least, Luhan.”

A few weeks. He had to wait at least a few weeks to learn if he’d gone and had one roll through the sheets with a good looking man in exchange for HIV.

Luhan gave her a shaky nod. “And the pill I took?”

“Next time you come in we’ll take more blood for a pregnancy test,” she assured him, covering a nearby hand that was shaking with one of her own. “But the pill should take care of you in that regard.”

Luhan let his head bow down, his chin resting against his chest.

He’d just gone out for a few drinks with friends. And look at where he was now.

“It’s going to be okay,” she told him softly. “You’re not the first person to experience something like this, and you won’t be the last. Let’s not panic until we have your results back.”

Hadn’t he only just been shouting at his parents over the phone, telling them that he could take care of himself? Hadn’t he said that he was an adult now? Adults weren’t supposed to do reckless things like have unprotected , not when condoms were so readily available, and education on the matter was so ingrained.

“Ready to get dressed?” she asked, helping him down from the table.

Weeks, Luhan told himself again. He’d have to wait weeks to know if he was carrying anything.

“What did she say?” Xiumin asked when he met back up with Luhan in the waiting room. “Are you okay?”

Luhan leveled a serious look at Xiumin. “I won’t know for a while, they have to send the blood out to a lab for more extensive testing.”

It wasn’t until they’d climbed in the car for the trip home when Xiumin said, “I’m sorry for being so angry at you earlier.”

Luhan gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry for being so stupid. I just wasn’t thinking. I was drinking. I was stupid.”

Xiumin started the car and said, “You’re going to be okay, Luhan. And I’ll be here with you.”

That did, against Luhan’s expectations, make him feel slightly better.

Lay was waiting for him, holding a half empty coffee cup, when Luhan once more climbed the stairs to his loft.

“Lay,” Luhan sighed out, not in the slightest bit in the mood. “Whatever you want to throw my way, can we do it another day?”

The look of hurt on Lay’s face was almost enough to make Luhan regret his words.

Quietly, Lay said, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I almost called the police last night.”

Luhan’s eyes widened as he opened his door, allowing Lay to follow him inside. “Why?”

“Why?” Lay demanded incredibly. “Because you disappeared from the bar and Tao and I weren’t sure what happened to you.”

Tossing his keys in a nearby wicker basket, Luhan questioned, “What do you mean I disappeared?”

It had been his belief that his friends had let him go wandering off with Sehun, but maybe that wasn’t the case at all.

Luhan was forced to admit, “I don’t exactly remember last night very well.”

Lay gave him an indulging look. “Well, you did drink Tao completely under the table, and it’s the worst I’ve ever seen you.”

“What happened?”

Lay said, “There was that stupid dare, where you had to kiss that guy. And Luhan, I’m really not sure how much you remember, but you seemed to be really enjoying it. Really, really enjoying it.”

Luhan made a sour face. “Apparently that guy, Sehun, was a good kisser.”

“Must have been,” Lay chuckled, “because Tao and I basically had to pry you off of him. You were rambling on about having found your one true love and that guy must have thought you were someone else, because he seemed pretty confused that your name was Luhan.”

Luhan palmed is forehead. He was never drinking again. Ever.

“Anyway,” Lay continued, “I pulled you off him eventually, but that’s right around the time Tao made a mad break for the bathroom to throw up everything he’d just drunk. I was really worried about him and I wanted to check on him. I made you swear Luhan, that you’d sit at our table and not move, then I went after Tao. When I came back you and that other guy were gone, but the bartender swore that the two of you left together and very willingly.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Luahn said.

“I’m sorry,” Lay said, sounding wrecked with guilt. “I should have known you wouldn’t be there when I came back.”

Luhan insisted, “It wasn’t your fault. And I’m okay.” At least he hoped he was okay. He still wasn’t sure what he’d do if he wasn’t.

“Lets not do that anymore,” Lay offered, looking for the first time like he’d been drinking the night before, with dark smudges under his eyes and a pale sheen to his skin.

“No more drinking,” Luhan agreed. “How’s Tao?”

Lay cracked his first smile. “Wailing about how he’s going to die,” Lay laughed, reminding Luhan that he and Tao shared the same dorm hall at the university. They both studied radically different subjects, but they’d ended up running to each other easily enough throughout the semester. A friendship had come of it years ago, carrying over now to their senior year.

Sometimes Luhan was certain that Lay was the kind of son his parents had always wanted. Lay was studying business and finance, and planed to go back to China right after graduation and attend graduate school. He was the dedicated and focused kind of student that parents always wanted, especially in sons. And as far as Luhan knew, Lay had a great relationship with his parents. Of course he also had an arranged marriage waiting for him back in China, and that was one think Luhan was not envious of.

“Serves him right,” Luhan teased. “Let him suffer.”

Lay gave him an odd look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Luhan gave him a reassuring look. There was no point in telling anyone what might have happened, and Xiumin could absolutely be trusted to keep his secrets. Lay was a worrier, and empathetic to a fault. Until the test results came back, there was nothing to be done at all. It was best to keep his mistake close to his chest, and wait the time out.

Three weeks later, long after Luhan had been officially issued an ultimatum by his parents, and he himself cut all communication with them, his test results came back clean.

“I’m healthy?” he asked, almost in disbelief. He’d spent what felt like forever preparing himself for the worst, thinking about what his life would be like if he had something that he couldn’t get rid of, and that might potentially kill him. “I didn’t get anything?”

“You did not contract any diseases,” Xiumin’s sister said with a laugh. “I think you can officially breathe easy. Of course you’ll need to schedule a follow up test with your local hospital, as there is always the chance of a false-negative, but for the moment, I think you’re in the clear.”

Luhan had been in the middle of his next piece of art when she’d called. He was covered in paint, his smock splotched with all kinds of colors, and he couldn’t have cared less as he collapsed on his sofa.

He wasn’t infected with HIV. He didn’t have syphilis or herpes or any other number of ually transmitted diseases, and the relief was utterly palpable.

“You don’t have any idea how sick I’ve been making myself with the waiting,” Luhan told her. For the past few weeks, and in particular the last several days, he’d be ambling his way to and from class with an upset stomach. There hadn’t been an vomiting, but as the days passed and the time grew closer to when he’d learn his test results, he’d experienced worse and worse nausea.

With only a few more parting words, Luhan hung up the phone feeling much better. It was like more than a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It was more like his whole life had started anew again.

“Good news?” Kris asked from the corner of the living room. He’d been so quiet over there, scratching out a few mathematical equations on a spare sheet of paper that Luhan had forgotten he was there in the first place. But Kris was the kind of quiet guy that Luhan liked having around him. They could talk about everything or nothing, and it never felt awkward around them.

The only awkward part was that when Luhan had first come to Korea, he’d had an impossibly huge crush on Kris. Kris had rented him his first place off campus. He’d offered Luhan a job, friendship, and had even helped tutor him in his Korean when Luhan had learned that Kris’s family had Chinese roots.

Nothing had come from his crush, and eventually Luhan had outgrown it, but from it had come an amazing friendship that Luhan was relying on more and more.

“The best news.”

Setting his paper and pencil aside, and dumping his calculator with the items, Kris asked, “Your parents?”

Luhan rolled his eyes. “I doubt they’ll be calling me anytime soon. Not since I let them know that I’m not going to be what they want me to be. Didn’t I tell you they cut me off completely? I’ve got my savings, but there aren’t any more money wires coming anytime soon, probably not until I repent my evil artist ways and agree to study accounting, or something boring like that.”

Kris gave him a dirty look. “You ungrateful freeloader.”

Luhan had said it deliberately, taking a fun but harmless dig at Kris who’ was currently an accounting major. It was a subject that didn’t seem to suit the tall man, especially since he’d expressed absolutely zero interest in taking over his parent’s coffee shop. But then Luhan had seen weirder things, and who was he to judge.

“It’s not freeloading if I’m paying you rent,” Luhan reminded.

“It sounds like you won’t be paying for long.”

Luhan gave a solid nod, the reality of his situation weighing on him. “I guess this is where I get a job then.” It had been his plan, no matter how flimsy, to go to school, paint in his free time, and not work a day until he graduated and had to. But his savings would only cover his livings costs for so long, and getting a job in was inevitable now.

“You know you’ve got one at the shop. Stop acting like you don’t.”

Luhan never wanted to go back to China. He felt like of like he was betraying his country, but he’d grown to love Korea. He loved the food, the people, and he loved the life he had now. He wanted to stay in the country, work in the country, and eventually settle down on the country. If his luck continued to hold out, he’d never have to go crawling back to China, begging for his parent’s forgiveness, compromising to something that made him unhappy.

“When can I start?”

Kris’s reply was absolutely lost on Luhan as his world tilted suddenly to the left. His legs bowed out, he lost his balance and he went crashing to floor in an undignified heap.

“Luhan!” Kris shouted, lunging to his side.

“I’m okay,” Luhan said a bit breathless, taking stock of his body and finding nothing too damaged.

Kris asked in a pitched tone, “What the hell just happened?”

“I just got dizzy,” Luhan said, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “I’m okay.”

“Dizzy?” Kris echoed.

“It’s nothing,” Luhan tried to sound confident. But the truth was the dizziness had been creeping up on him like the nausea, making mornings particularly difficult, but nights had been too.

“Are you getting sick?”

“Maybe,” Luhan agreed, letting Kris help him to his feet. “I’ll take some more vitamin C and I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“I guess,” Kris said slowly. “Are you sure, though? You look really pale.”

Once more, Luhan decreed, “I’m fine.”

How could he not be fine? After all, his test had come back clean, he’d learned a valuable lesson that would likely stay with him for the rest of his life, and he was getting a fresh start by completely breaking away from his family.

Things could only be looking up for him.

And as far as Luhan could tell, things surely looked that way.

He put from his mind the night in late March where he’d let alcohol get the best of him, and even almost all of April that he’d spent worrying about the ramifications. May came around, which meant finals and endless nights spent trying to balance studying and a job that had become slightly more demanding than expected, then finally June, where he was a college graduate.

His work visa came through that very month and while he aimlessly job hunted, looking for anything that would allow him to put his artistic skills to use, he produced canvas sheet after canvas sheet of what he liked to call art, most of which ended up hanging in the coffee shop.

He even sold a few more pieces.

It was just something nagging in the back of his mind that was unsettling him.

The nausea had not let up. In fact, if anything, it had gotten worse. And with it had come headaches, body aches, sudden hot flashes, a lack of appetite followed by the urge to eat everything in sight, and countless other symptoms that were pointing him towards his greatest fear.

A false negative.

Xiumin’s sister had downright warned him that it was possible the tests had come back wrong. He’d submitted is blood work less than twenty-four hours after a possible infection, and a false negative was a real possibility.

So when he ended up taking a nosedive minutes before he was set to interview for a position that would at least get him out of a coffee shop with a dozen high school and college students, sending his resume and portfolio everywhere and thoroughly freaking out his potential employer, Luhan scheduled a doctor’s appointment.

When it happened, when his life changed irrevocably, he was sitting alone in a doctor’s cold office, wondering if maybe he could still get that job.

The doctor came in, gave him a brief once over, then said, “Your blood work has shown a significant amount of chorionic gonadotropin.”

Luhan said flatly, “I went to school for art. I don’t know what that means.”

This time the doctor seemed a bit more sympathetic, or at least a little more gentle as he asked, “When was the last time you were ually active?”

His mind whirling, Luhan had blurted out, “Not for a long time.” He blushed right afterwards, clarifying, “I haven’t had time for a relationship of any kind, between graduating from college and job hunting. It’s been months.”

Not since March he thought almost frantically. March was when he’d stupidly stumbled home from the bar with a stranger. And it was almost June now.

“Did you use protection? To prevent an unexpected or unwanted pregnancy?”

Luhan’s lungs burned as he drew in sharp gasps of air. “No, but I used the morning after pill. I took it just in case.”

A knock sounded from the door and a young doctor let himself in, pulling with him a compact machine on a table with wheels.

“What’s going on?” Luhan asked, eyes darting between the men.

“We need to administer an ultrasound,” the doctor said carefully. “It’s my belief, in sixteen years of medical practice, that you’re pregnant. I think we need to verify.”

Numb and in shock, Luhan shook his head. “I took the pill. I took the morning after pill. I can’t be pregnant.” He certainly couldn’t be around three months pregnant.

“That pill,” the doctor said, motioning for the other doctor to pull the machine fully into the room, “is highly effective, but not completely so. Now, please lay back, and we’ll get to the bottom of us.”

Luhan saw his baby for the first time that day, mostly as a blob of white and black without much form, but it was his impossible and frankly unwanted baby. Floating there. In him. Ruining his life.

It took everything in him not to absolutely fall apart, and the rest of the week to try and decide what to do.

The only thing he could come up with, the only decision he could come to, was that before he made a move concerning the baby in him that was quickly growing and moving towards a second trimester, he had to let the other father know.

He had to find Sehun, whoever he was, and he had to do it quickly.