Luhan

                The way my mother looked at me, it was as if I was contained in a glass case, a mental patient isolated from the world.  I tried to speak, to say, “Mom, it’s me.  It’s Luhan,” but the words barely came out, a scratchy whisper of gibberish, and the throbbing in my throat was killing me.  As a coughing fit took hold of me, she got out of her chair and left the hospital room.  It would be the last time she ever looked me in the eye.

                This time around, I simply sink deeper into the sheets and cry myself into an unstable state of sleep.

                “So that means you know sign language, right?” I write on the new notepad Sehun bought me.  Clearly I’ve been spending all my time with him since I’ve already exhausted three in the two months since our first conversation.

                “Yeah,” he replies uneasily, and I notice that his posture is a little too stiff.

                “I never learned it.  Can you teach me?”  Why is he so uncomfortable all of a sudden?

                “I—I don’t know.  I haven’t seen my brother… for years.  I probably can’t even remember half of it,” he says, squirming in his seat.  I’ve been trying to coax him into telling me about his brother, Donghun, every now and then.  On any other subject, he’s open as a gaping hole, but whenever I bring up his brother, it’s like brick walls start shooting up between us and his face molds into a guarded expression that I can’t read no matter how hard I try.

                I sigh and change the subject, knowing that’s as much as I’ll get out of him.  Again.

                He gives me an apologetic smile, knocking his knee against mine softly, and I melt and I can’t catch my breath and I can’t remember who I am or where I am or what I’m doing.  you, Oh Sehun.  you for making me want to you.

                So.  Badly.

Sehun

                I wasn’t gay.  I wasn’t homoual.  I didn’t like boys.

                But now all I can think about is Luhan, Luhan, Luhan.  I’m straight.  Straight, straight, straight.

                He bites his lip in concentration, writing in Korean carefully, the muscles in his forearm flexing with each .

                Well, .

                He continuously bothers me about my brother, and if he were anyone else I would explode in his face and walk away, but it’s Luhan, and I can’t.   I just can’t.  I don’t know what it is about him that makes me keep coming back.  He’s not as helpless and lost as I originally made him out to be, but I can’t help but want to take care of him, to love him.

                The ual frustration is the worst.  After that one hug, he’s been cautious about getting too close to me, touching me.  Sometimes I want to grab his hesitant hands, pull them behind my neck, and give him the kiss of a lifetime.

                So I do.

                It’s past midnight, and we’re sitting on a bench in the courtyard, shoulders brushing just a bit.  As a fly buzzes by Luhan’s face, he jumps with surprise, leaning into me as he swats at the persistent bug.  Realizing that he’s practically crawled into my lap, he slides a good six inches away from me, clenching and unclenching his fists nervously, and it suddenly hits me that all this time, he wasn’t afraid of touching me.  He’s been restraining himself.

                He ducks his head—his way of apologizing—and squeezes his fidgety hands between his thighs.

                “Hey, it’s okay,” I tell him, and for some reason, the tone of my voice comes out strangely seductive.  He bites his lip.  For the love of god, that’s y.  “Come here, hyung.”  I move up against him, take his notepad and pen, placing them on the other side of the bench.  His breath is shaky.

                Is this wrong?  Am I taking advantage of him?  I can’t tell.  All I know is that I can’t take the yearning anymore, and I’ve fallen harder for him than I have for any girl in my life, and I need to be with him right this second.  I place my hands on the bench on either side of his hips, and he looks up at me with wide eyes, his breath hitching.  As our lips touch, my eyes close, and his fingers find their way to the nape of my neck, pulling me into him.  The kiss is soft, slow, amazing.  I draw back reluctantly when I feel him struggle for air.  From the corner of my eye, I see Baekhyun in the distance, a look of shock upon his face quickly turning into a smirk, but I couldn’t care less because upon catching his breath, Luhan leans forward and his lips are warm against mine.  And I know that my ual orientation doesn’t matter, and his muteness doesn’t matter, and Baekhyun’s judgment doesn’t matter.  All that matters is that he’s mine, all mine.

                For now.

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I don't know why it took a slightly vulgar turn in the middle there lol sorry.