Luhan leaves his apartment for the first time in two years.

 The time, from its current position on Luhan’s window seal, is 12:49. In the sixty seconds that it takes for the time to switch positions, Luhan has fallen into a deep sleep that concerns even his doctor. It’s not that Luhan sleeps too often, it’s the sheer lack of sleep that puts the entirety of his surroundings on edge.

If asked, Luhan would say that he sleeps well- perfect even, but in truth he spends his nights awake. There is a various assortment of candles lining each flat surface in his tidy room. The purpose of this is to make him feel less alone. When each of the candles are lit, casting ever changing shadows on the bare walls, he imagines that he’s dreaming. The pretend dreams he has never satiate his body the way they do his mind, and he rises each morning to pale purple tones tinting the delicate skin under his eyes. He thinks it’s beautiful, the way his eyes no longer match the paler parts of his face.

When he was younger, and had been touched by his father in a way that prompted his parents’ divorce, he realised he didn’t care for the feeling of bare skin on skin. The thought of maybe bumping into someone on the street kept him inside of his small apartment for two years, and he was okay with that. From what he’s experienced, there’s not a person alive that could properly stimulate his mind the way the candles do.

There are days, however, when Luhan’s chest aches like he’s lost a loved one. It starts in the pit of his stomach and even though he’s experienced the feeling several times, he still kneels in front of the toilet in anticipation of the bile that feels almost palpable in his throat. It never comes, and he’s resorted to crying openly on the bathtub ledge because he’s never felt so alone, and he can’t place why.

Today, the feeling returns in crippling waves, and it’s this reason alone that prompts Luhan to finally leave his home. The bottoms of all of his shoes are pristine; they’ve never touched the ground. He convinces himself that this is why he’s so nervous as he steps out of the door- that two years is more than enough time to cure his fears.

There’s no rush of people coming toward him, and he expects that much. He’s kept realistic expectations about what the outside is like.

His walk starts off brisk, but he’s soon stepping in a rhythm that lets him blend with the scarce people around him. As he expected, there isn’t much to the world. What he sees seems to be a stale replica of the world he’s been told of, because this isn’t life. Life, from what he’s been told, is supposed to feel overwhelming. It’s supposed to make him forget his father’s hand creeping up his thigh, but it doesn’t. The feeling of calloused hands still resonate in his frontal lobe, and the only thing that has been added to it is a feeling of breathlessness because he’s never walked this far before; the small confines of his apartment don’t allow him to.

“Excuse me, are you lost?” A voice is heard from somewhere he hasn’t turned to see. It’s the first voice he’s heard in a while that isn’t coming from the speakers of a cell phone or television, and he can’t help but feel partial toward it. When he finally turns, he’s met with tousled hair and a slightly concerned facial expression. The man he’s staring at is what Luhan has come to define as beautiful. There are a few scars littering the seemingly petal soft skin on the man’s face, and Luhan wants to touch them. He wants to run his fingers across the man’s  healed wounds that his own sheltered lifestyle never allowed him to have.

“No. Who are you?”  He doesn’t realise that he’s standing in the man’s yard, and that’s why he’s receiving confused looks.

“My name is Oh Sehun, and I just bought this property in an auction. Are your parents the previous owners?”

“No.”

“Do you...need help?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you come inside for a minute? You don’t look well.” It’s with this sentence that Luhan’s forgotten anxiety returns, and he isn’t thinking about the beautiful man anymore. All he sees is unfamiliar territory, and there’s an imaginary hand ghosting it’s way down Luhan’s body; reminding him that handsome older men are not to be trusted.

“No.”

“There’s some hot tea inside, and a working phone. We should call your parents and let them know where you are, okay?” It hasn’t occurred to Luhan that Sehun is seeing him the way everyone does- the way his father did. Through their eyes, he looks young; distractingly young, and the purple bags under his eyes don’t make him look older, only sicker. Sehun doesn’t know that Luhan is almost nineteen years old, and that he has his own apartment and set of adult responsibilities.

Sehun doesn’t touch him, and instead opts to motion one hand toward his still open front door. Luhan is still afraid, but he follows anyway. There’s something drawing him toward the man, and he’s sure whatever it is has something to do with the fact that since he laid eyes on him, the aching loneliness he felt came to an immediate halt.

.

.

.

.

.

“Do you know their number? Your parents, I mean. I...have a phone book if you need it.” Sehun is looking at Luhan like Luhan may, at some point, explode. He doesn’t rush for an answer, and let's Luhan sip loudly on his tea in the seat adjacent his. It’s very rude, the way Luhan vehemently slurps the hot  liquid, but he’s never had anyone around him to tell him to stop the bad habit. He doesn’t take into account that the more he sits without answering, the more Sehun feels guilty about having possibly lured a child into his home.

“I’m okay on my own. They don’t...really need to know where I am.” In Luhan’s mind, this answer is enough to put the older man at ease, but it only puts Sehun in a more awkward position.

“Have you run away from home?”

“No, I live on my own.” At this point, Sehun is at a loss for words. He’s not quite sure why, but there’s a claminess taking over his palms. The boy sitting in front of him seems too nonchalant, too calm to be sitting in the presence of a stranger, and it bothers him.

“Sir, do you have more tea? This one wasn’t sweet enough.” The boy’s hand is outstretched toward Sehun, and though he’d proclaimed the tea wasn’t sweet enough, the small tea cup is empty. Sehun takes the cup from the boy’s hand, but sits it on the table between them instead.

“That’s enough tea for now. What’s your name?”

“Luhan.”

“Well, Luhan. I’d like for you to explain what you’re doing out alone.” Sehun’s voice is stern, but gentle when he speaks. He see’s the boy squirm, obviously choosing his next words carefully, before letting out a sigh.

“I felt sick,  and my apartment was suffocating me. I haven’t… I haven’t left my apartment since I was seventeen, so I just wanted to take a walk.” With the mention of Luhan’s age, every tensed muscle in Sehun’s body relaxes.

"Well it's a nice day for a walk, isn't it?"

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Possible sequel in play for this one if it's well liked