Eighteen months later…

Art was a lot like people.

It could be complicated or simple, beautiful or downright ugly, unique or utterly mundane.

Luhan understood that, accepted it, but what he didn’t understand was why anyone would want, be inspired to, paint a mosaic of ears.

Ears.

Frowning at the painting on the wall, he wrinkled his nose, the adorable crease that Sehun wrote odes to – literally – appearing between his brows.

He loved Sehun, loved him to death, but there were things about being an artist that he would obviously never understand. This was one of them.

“This is so weird,” he muttered.

Funnily enough, this travesty was the first piece to be sold that night.

Apparently Sehun was right: art was like people, and vice versa. Strange as hell.

“Have you found it yet?” a husky voice asked from behind him, soft breath fanning on the sensitive skin of his ears sending shivers down his spine as an arm wrapped possessively around his waist.

“No, and I’m not looking,” he grumbled, even as he leaned back into his lover’s embrace. “It’s fricking weird, okay. I don’t even know what you were thinking when you made this.”

Sehun chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear before moving to his side to contemplate the painting.

It was a garishly coloured collection of ears of different shapes and sizes. Some were friends and family, others were strangers he’d met or seen along the way.

“Every part of the human body fascinates me,” he said simply. “And you have beautiful ears, I’ll have you know. Why wouldn’t I want to paint them?” His ears were one of Luhan’s most sensitive erogenous zones but Sehun didn’t bother to point that out at the moment. He didn’t think Luhan would appreciate the reminder.

“Because…ears? Seriously, Sehun-ah?” Luhan asked, still in disbelief.

Unlike the time before – which is how he secretly referred to their relationship pre-airport confession – Sehun no longer showed or consulted him on every piece he was creating. In fact, Luhan hadn’t been privy to most of the pieces in his new collection. Sehun had wanted it to be a surprise and Luhan had been busy enough with his own life not to allow his curiosity to spoil it.

“Did you find your nose yet?” Sehun asked, tweaking said nose affectionately.

Luhan simply glared at him.

When they’d arrived at the gallery before the showing, Sehun had unveiled his surprise: he’d arranged a scavenger hunt of sorts for Luhan. However, instead of finding items or trinkets around the gallery, Luhan was supposed to find the parts of himself in each of Sehun’s pieces.

Again, Luhan loved Sehun dearly but sometimes he had to wonder about how his brain worked. How did he even come up with these crazy, albeit ingenious, ideas?

Still, as strange as he claimed to find them, he was secretly thrilled. The fact that Sehun thought about him all the time, even when he wasn’t around; that he wanted him to be a part of everything he created…it touched him deeply. He had never felt so loved, so cherished.

Sehun was really one of a kind; made Luhan feel as such too.

“Mr. Oh?”

Both men turned towards the new voice, finding the owner/manager of the gallery looking at them anxiously.

Switching seamlessly to his lightly-accented English as they always spoke Korean during private conversation, Sehun sighed exaggeratedly as he said, “Michael, how many times have I told you to call me Sehun?”

Michael nodded, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Mr… Sehun.”

“Better,” Sehun nodded with a gracious smile.

“Uh, sorry to disturb but there’s a Mr. Carlyle who’s interested in one of the pieces.”

“Which one?”

“The one with the big, red eye hovering above the volcano that looks like the mountain is bleeding?” Michael stammered.

Sehun nodded patiently. “I know the one you’re referring to. Did you tell him that this is just a showing and nothing’s on sale yet?”

Michael gulped, nodding. “I did but he insisted.”

“Oh, well, if he insists,” Sehun repeated somewhat mockingly.

Michael flushed a bright red, his baby blue eyes popping behind their shiny frames.

Sighing, Sehun turned to Luhan, who had watched the exchange in silent amusement.

Michael reminded Luhan of himself in the time before, eager to please and anxiously awaiting the proverbial hitting the fan. He knew that Sehun was only teasing him, though, so he hadn’t stepped in.

“Work summons me, my dearest,” Sehun declared dramatically, an exaggerated expression of regret upon his face, though his eyes twinkled with mischief. He grasped Luhan’s left hand, bringing it to his lips where he placed a kiss on the ring on his finger. “I love you to the ends of the earth. Don’t forget your mission. If you get them all right, I’ll even give you a present.” He wiggled his brows suggestively.

Luhan scoffed, snatching his hand away as heat bloomed in his cheeks.

Grinning like the cat who ate the cream, Sehun ducked in and stole a kiss before grabbing Michael by the arm and dragging him off to the painting in question.

Luhan shook his head, chuckling to himself.

Sehun was incorrigible. He’d always been affectionate, not caring who saw them holding hands and whatnot, but since arriving in New York, Luhan realized that he’d actually been holding back in South Korea. Now, Sehun would grab him and kiss him in the middle of the sidewalk if he felt like it. Sure, people still stared at them, there would always be those who disapproved of their lifestyle, but for the most part, their relationship was fairly common and no one paid much attention to them. In fact, he’d been shocked to see people smiling at their displays of affection many times.

And what was even better was that marriage was legal here. If they wanted, they could make it official.

He looked down at the ring on his finger, the one Sehun had just kissed, a loving smile tilting his lips. It was the same cheap one that Sehun had bought him in Jeju. Sehun had mentioned upgrading to better ones, quality stuff, but Luhan had refused. Maybe one day, if they decided that they wanted to be husband and husband. Until then, however, he would keep his promise to never remove it. The ring meant more to him than anything he’d ever owned.

Shaking off his thoughts, he continued to make his way around the gallery, taking in the paintings and listening to the other patrons’ quiet chatter. It filled him with pride that most of their thoughts on Sehun’s work was positive.

He didn’t know what it said about him that he was actually able to recognize his nose, his leg, even his lips in the various pieces. Maybe Sehun was rubbing off on him.

He’d just turned a corner when his eyes landed on a familiar profile. He froze for a minute, disbelief cutting off the air in his lungs.

When a pair of dark, smiling eyes turned towards him and held, he knew that he wasn’t seeing things.

Jongin.

He hadn’t seen him since…well, since before they’d left Korea.

About a week after the airport reunion, he’d finally gathered enough courage to go and see Jongin. He’d called and asked him if he could come over, to which Jongin had quickly agreed.

It had been awkward at first. What did one say to the man whose heart one had just broken?

Jongin hadn’t done anything to make it uncomfortable for him, though. It was his own guilt that had been eating at him. He’d felt that he at least owed Jongin an explanation. So he’d told him everything.

It had been a bit of a rebirth for him, unburdening almost three years of pent up anger, pain, sadness. Everything he’d always wanted to say to Jongin but hadn’t. His intention wasn’t to make Jongin feel worse than he already did – and if the dark eyes and sallow complexion were anything to go by, Jongin wasn’t doing so well in the aftermath of his leaving – but once he’d started talking, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

In the end, he’d felt like there was one important thing that he needed Jongin to understand.

“I did love you. I do love you. I hope you know that. And I really do believe that if I’d stayed, we could have been happy this time. I want you to know that I believed you, in you. It’s just…” He didn’t know how to explain it, how to explain what Sehun meant to him, how much he meant to him, without sounding like he was singing his praises.

“I understand,” Jongin had said.

And that had been the end of that.

Afterwards, he’d relaxed a little and they’d worked out the details.

He would return in a few days to pack up his things. Jongin insisted that he take everything he’d bought him because they were his, even if Jongin had footed the bill. Luhan knew, realistically, that there was too much stuff and a lot of it he wouldn’t need, wouldn’t want, to take with him to New York. They’d been too much for him in the old, extravagant life; they certainly wouldn’t suit him in the new, simple one. But Jongin insisted so he’d decided to keep what he could use and sell the rest. There were a lot of expensive clothes and jewelry that he’d rarely ever worn, if at all, that could be auctioned off online. He decided to keep a portion of the proceeds, so that he wouldn’t be too much of a burden to Sehun, and donate the rest to charity. It was the only way he could accept any of it.

Jongin also insisted that he keep the money in the bank account that he’d made for him when he’d first come to Seoul but that Luhan had flat-out refused. He couldn’t have Jongin bank-rolling his life anymore. They needed to make as clean a cut as possible. Instead, he accepted Jongin’s offer to take anything he wanted from around the house since, as Jongin put it, he’d been the one taking care of it all this time.

There’d only been one thing that appealed to him: a snow-globe of a Winter Prince at the top of a hill scouring the land for his Princess. Jongin had brought it back for him from one of his overseas travels. It had always struck something within Luhan whenever he looked at it. Sometimes he would stare at it for hours, shaking it every time the snow settled at the bottom of the hill.

He’d found his Prince now but he would never forget the days when he’d waited for him. It was something of a reminder, he supposed.

He hadn’t seen Jongin after that. Magda had let him in the day he had come to collect his things. Sehun had offered to come with him but he’d felt that it was inappropriate so he’d gone alone.

Magda had still been upset with him, just a little, but he’d apologized, admitted that she’d been right and she’d immediately forgiven him, hugging him tightly while whispering how happy she was for him. She’d even teared up a little and he’d wondered, remembering what Sehun had said at the airport, if she was thinking about her own tragic story, wishing that she could’ve had a happy ending.

Unlike Magda, his mother had been none-too-pleased to hear that he and Jongin had broken up. Her first question was whether he was coming back home, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in her voice. When he’d told her that not only was he not coming back home but he was moving to New York with someone else, she’d been flabbergasted. And that was just the beginning.

Sehun had kept his promise.

Once he’d settled his stuff in Sehun’s house, they’d taken off to China. He’d been so happy he’d cried the minute they set down on the runway.

His parents had come to meet them at the airport, his mother looking sour and displeased. Sehun was ever his charming self, though, and Luhan could tell that his father liked him, even if he still didn’t say much and kept his expressions under control.

Sehun had brought them trinkets from Seoul, nothing nearly as flashy as Jongin would have. Luhan could see his mother’s disappointment and for the first time in his life, he was disappointed in her. Money wasn’t everything. When would she realize that?

He didn’t let it get him down, though. Instead, he and his father showed Sehun around their hometown, his father even taking Sehun to work with him one day. Luhan’s heart had swelled to twice its usual size, he was sure, looking at two of his favourite people together. His father’s acceptance of Sehun meant more to him than he would ever know.

They’d even visited his sister and the brother-in-law and nephew he’d never met while he was with Jongin and he’d immediately fallen in love with the little boy.

His life had finally come together. He couldn’t have been happier.

The only cloud in his sky during the entire trip came the night before he was set to return home.

He’d sat his parents down, without Sehun, and told them that now that Jongin was out of the picture, the money and gifts he would be sending them would be significantly less. His father told him that it wasn’t necessary, that they had everything they needed, but he insisted on doing his filial duty. His mother, however, couldn’t accept that the money train had finally come to a stop. She’d said that only her son would be crazy enough to walk away from a cushy life like the one he’d had; that only Luhan would trade in a successful businessman for a poor artist.

Luhan didn’t bother to inform her that Sehun was no starving ingénue in the art world, that he came from a respected family who owned businesses, etc., and was successful and financially stable in his own right. If she was ever curious enough to find out more about him, she could either ask him herself or figure out how to use the internet and Google him. He really didn’t care about pleasing her anymore. Sehun’s love and his father’s acceptance were more than enough.

Coming to America had been a bit of a culture-shock. He’d never been exposed to so much diversity. It had been equal parts exciting and daunting.

He’d had help adjusting, at least.

When Sehun had told him, after their reconciliation, that they would be staying with his ex, Luhan had been uncertain at first. What kind of relationship did they have that Sehun could bring his new partner into his old one’s home?

But upon meeting him, when they’d finally left Korea and arrived in New York two months after the fact, Luhan immediately knew that he’d had nothing to worry about. Zero – real name Matthew Augustine Lubbock – was as mellow and down-to-earth as they came. Sehun said that it was in large part due to all the he smoked.

“It’s probably permanently percolating in his system by now.”

Apparently Zero had contacted Sehun about doing some artwork for his group’s upcoming album some time prior to Emily’s suggestion that he return to New York. When he’d decided to take his sister’s advice, he’d also agreed to take on Zero’s project. Zero had offered to let Sehun, and Luhan by extension, stay at his loft in return.

Zero was undoubtedly the most interesting person that Luhan had ever met. He also knew a lot of equally interesting, if unique, people. After they’d settled into their own place, and Sehun had finally completed a design that Zero approved of, it was he who had suggested that Luhan teach Korean and Chinese.

“You’re be surprised how many people are eating that up these days.”

Zero had a point and the idea intrigued him but before Luhan could teach anything, he needed to brush up on his own English. In the beginning, talking to Zero, or trying to anyway, often gave him a headache. Half the time, he had no idea what was coming out of his mouth and he hated having Sehun translate for him.

As soon as his English was at an intermediate level, however, Sehun made him upkeep the agreement they’d made at the airport and found him a therapist.

Therapy wasn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination. It was even worse when you weren’t accustomed to talking about yourself. At first he’d felt that it was pointless, a severe waste of money – Sehun’s since he’d insisted on paying for it as it was his idea to begin with – but after a few sessions of speaking about entirely mundane things, he’d found himself talking about his childhood, how he’d felt, the hopes and dreams he’d never allowed himself to have. It made him realize, yet again, just how much pain he’d been keeping inside of him all those years.

It helped, in the long-run, and he still saw his therapist at least once a week to this day.

His life now was nothing he had ever hoped for yet everything he could have wanted.

He had a job: two, technically, since he taught Korean and Chinese during the day and K-pop choreography at a dance studio three times a week at night.

He had his own place, which he could afford to help pay for, finally.

And, above all else, he had the love of a good man, who’s star was rising once more.

Sehun had told him that the art world was a fickle but he’d had no idea exactly what he’d meant until they’d started making the rounds on the circuit. People remembered who he was but he was no longer the it boy, having been gone too long. It basically meant that he’d had to start over from scratch. The only upside was that he’d maintained some of his contacts so when he’d started working on the new collection, he’d had a little help getting meetings with galleries for his opening. In the end, he’d decided to go with a new, small gallery – Michael’s – instead of pursuing one of the bigger ones that would, if all went well, get him an article in the newspapers the next day.

It was a fresh start, he’d said, in more ways than one.

It had been the right decision, it seemed. The place was packed and despite the program stating that no pieces were going to be sold on opening night, Sehun already had buyers.

“Rich people don’t like being told no,” Sehun had said once. He’d been right about that too, it seemed.

Returning to the present, Luhan took Jongin in.

He looked good, really good. He was dressed casually, by Jongin’s standards, in a white shirt and slate gray evening jacket but money and class still emanated from him.

The most impressive thing that he wore, however, was a smile.

In fact, for the first time since Luhan had met him, there were no stress lines around his mouth, no signs of strain between his brows. His eyes looked clear, carefree and happy.

Watching him, knowing that he was okay after wondering about him for so long, Luhan couldn’t help but smile. They’d kept in touch, trading emails every once in a while, but this was the first time he’d seen him in over a year.

Just then, a short, wide-eyed young man came up to Jongin, tugging on his jacket-sleeve.

The look on Jongin’s face, the way his expression gentled and his lips stretched into a tender smile as he looked at his companion, told Luhan all he needed to know.

He felt a giggle rise up in his throat and covered his mouth to keep it from coming out.

Jongin glanced up at him and colour suffused his cheeks, his eyes darting away in embarrassment.

Wow, Luhan thought. Jongin was blushing. He must really have it bad.

It was rather cute, actually. Luhan felt like a student watching a teacher step outside of his comfort zone for the very first time. In a way, Jongin had been his teacher. He’d been many firsts for Luhan and he’d taught him life lessons he wouldn’t soon forget.

“What are you grinning at?” Sehun asked, sidling up beside Luhan, slipping his arm around his waist.

Luhan just giggled some more so Sehun followed his gaze, smiling when it rested upon his old friend.

“He called me up the other day, said he was in town for a convention or something so I told him to come by. I guess he didn’t come alone,” Sehun added teasingly, nudging Luhan in the side.

Luhan burst out laughing then.

Gosh, he loved him. He was an idiot, a ert, a maniac and a baby at times but he was his, every moronic inch of him.

Dropping his arm from around Luhan’s waist, Sehun stepped away and held his hand out to him.

“How about we go say hi?”

Sobering until only a soft smile lingered, Luhan slipped his hand into Sehun’s, his present and future, and set off to greet an old friend.

FIN