Less than 12 hours ago...

Luhan sat at one of the tables of Cloud 9’s VIP area, and let out a sigh as he watched Jongdae and Tao on the dancefloor, literally having the time of their lives - like he himself would have months before. Tonight, the club’s suffocating atmosphere oddly made him feel out of place, when, not too long ago, he used to enjoy the familiar haze that numbed his senses. He pounded drinks, one after the other, hoping it would get him to relax. However, Oh Sehun’s eyes on him definitely weren’t helping. On the chair right next to his, the other was silently judging his bad decisions - which Luhan would have to assume the aftermath of in the morning, and that fact almost stopped him from finishing his fifth shot. Although the burning sensation of the liquid going down his throat was becoming way too addicting, and at this point, he couldn’t even recognize whatever alcohol he was drinking. But he just didn’t care.

It’s only when the waitress came back to refill Sehun’s half-full flute of chanpagne and, at the same time, serve Luhan the rest of his order, that the model’s impassible façade broke. Sehun raised a critical brow at the view of what the girl carried. Her heavy tray was composed of a bottle of La Veuve Cliquot, two pink Martinis, a Margharita and a Daiquiri. « I don’t doubt one second that you can handle your alcohol, but are you being serious right now ? »

« He finally deigned open his mouth, huh ? » Nevertheless, Luhan chose not to respond, and instead concentrated his attention on the newcomer. Even in his now quite intoxicated state, he could most definitely see the young girl was inexperienced, and advanced in the packed room with clumsy steps. The poor girl - Yeri, as her name tag claimed -, with her frail arms and petite stature, didn’t seem like the best fit for the job. Without the shadow of a doubt, she’d been hired because of her cute and refreshing features – the kind that would attract a lot of male customers. The new recruit struggled grandly, as the high heels and short skirt she had to wear certainly didn’t make it easier in her completion of the task given. The direction of the club still hadn’t changed those ridiculous uniforms. What are these even, Luhan thought, slightly annoyed, as he saw similar dressed female employees and disgusting patrons ogling their bare legs.

However, his pondering was interrupted in an abrupt manner when one of the Baccarat glasses which stood precariously on the edge of Yeri’s silver platter tipped over. Before Luhan could get a hold of it, the recipient’s contents had already landed on Sehun’s shirt. A shirt, that Luhan’s brain recognized as a 1000$ worth shirt from French luxury brand Yves Saint Laurent. The side effects of being a stylist, he noted with a touch of irony. The expensive cotton was instantly soaked, and further drenching the piece of clothing, Sehun’s instinctive reflex made him raise his arm so that he could catch the falling glass. His face was unreadable, Luhan observed carefully. All of a sudden, a chilling impression of déjà-vu surged in his gut.

The waitress stammered, frozen in place as she apologized profusely. « Oh my god. I’m so-sorry, sir. I…I’m sorry. »

« I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. »

« Do you think you being sorry will change anything ? »

« Sir, I’ll repay you for ... »

« Even three months of your paycheck won’t be enough to buy me the exact same Bottega Veneta suede jacket ! »

« I’m sorry, sir… I’m sorry. »

« You should seriously envisage getting another vocation. If you’re not going to do your job properly, shouldn’t you quit and get lost ? » His words had been way too harsh, for something as insignificant as a spilt drink. Luhan shoud have condemned this attitude right away, taken the girl’s side. However, that’s not what he did.

« J, baby. » the stylist had whispered soothingly. He gripped the other’s hand, feeling him tense up under his touch. « I’ll get you another one, so please don’t make a scene. Let us just go, okay ? » The man removed his hand in a snappy wrist gesture and walked away in long strides, Luhan trailing behind him.

Another time, another place. A similar scene occured in a similar nightclub. Luhan had witnessed a waitress perform several deep apologetic 90-degree bows after spilling some drink on his of a former boyfriend, and remained passive as the latter degraded a fellow human being - not even for committing a grave sin, but merely a small mistake. Even if the present situation was different, he didn’t want to risk something like that to happen again.

Luhan was trying to gauge Sehun’s reaction, when the model, a spark of curiosity in his dark orbs, gave a pointed look at his forearm. On which the deer-like male had put a firm restraining hand. It had been a subconscious move, and Luhan immediately released his hold on the taller guy, a little embarrassed. Sehun smirked, and then turned his gaze to the small waitress, his eyes softening. The clumsy Yeri reminded him of his past rookie self. Showing off his impressive height, the model got up, his dripping wet shirt sticking to his ripped body.

« Hey, that guy… isn’t he Oh Sehun ? »

« Look ! I think it’s Oh Sehun. The model… »

The said man took the tray from her stiff hands, and placed in swift movements Luhan’s drinks on their table, before giving it back to her with the now empty cocktail glass.

« It’s Oh Sehun, right ? » Rumors in the carré VIP were now spreading like wildfire, and people started paying unwanted attention to them.

Seeing Yeri’s lack of reaction, Sehun gave her an hesitant pat on the head, which was bowed down in shame. « Hey, it’s fine. See, I’m not hurt anywhere. » The girl looked up. « Neither is Hyung, right ? » Luhan nodded incredulously. He was perfectly dry. The stylist wasn’t even in the projectile’s path.

« So, no worries. Just be careful next time. »

« I’ll bring you a towel right away, sir. »

« No need, I’ll just go to the washroom and clean up. Why don’t you resume work instead ? Your manager is going to get mad at you otherwise. » The waitress’ eyes widened, and she excused herself with a hurried bow.

« What was that ? » Sehun asked, intrigued, while Luhan sighed. « Nothing. Let’s get you cleaned up. »

They both ended up in the flashy bathroom of the nightclub, Luhan sitted on the marble countertop as he watched Sehun’s miserable attempts to dry his shirt with toilet paper. « They have towels in here, in case you don’t know » the smaller then revealed shamelessly. Indeed, there was a pile of fine Egyptian cotton bath towels located immediately behind him. Sehun threw Luhan a dirty look, but the latter wasn’t impressed. « Give me that. »

The Chinese stylist rinsed the stained garment in the sink with cold water, before taking the hair dryer from its support on the wall. « It’s not ideal, but this will have to do. » Hot air instantly started blowing, which worked in a way more effective manner than Sehun’s method. The model nodded, his lean silhouette pressed against the door. He was now in a white wife beater, and Luhan tried not to stare too much. The broad shouders, arm muscles flexing, thick veins underneath the pale skin, and the defined abs showing through…

« It’s okay. I mean, it’s a shame because it was a perfectly fine shirt. »

« This is an Yves Saint Laurent neck shirt made out of black tie dye crêpe de chine. Do you know hard it is to get your hands on this ? »

« I’m aware. » he said with a taunting smile that seemed to say, ‘I’m also part of the industry. I’ll let you know, this is simply model knowledge.’ But the other continued, no malice in his tone anymore. « It’s my favorite shirt actually, since someone special gifted this to me. »

« Someone special. Does he mean… a special someone ? , I’m getting dizzy. »

« But I wasn’t going to get angry at that waitress for such a trivial matter, you know. »

Luhan threw him a look. Under his gaze, the taller squirmed, suddenly more preoccupied by his ness than the infortunate incident that had taken place earlier, seeing that he was now folding his bare arms in the hope less skin would be shown. Sehun was actually a decent person, Luhan couldn’t help think