Day one, Luhan realises. His eyes flutter open painfully. It would appear he had cried in his sleep, judging by the large stains on his pillow next to his face. He groggily pulls himself out of the covers and slowly makes his way to the bathroom.

He feels sick looking at the person staring back in the mirror – puffy eyes, pale and cracked lips, red cheeks from where he’d been furiously rubbing to get all the tears off…he looks like crap. He turns on the cold water in the basin and lets the tap run for a while. He cups the icy water and splashes it over his face.

It feels warm…

He touches his fingers to his cheeks.

Cold.

He doesn’t want to be like this – not on day one, not when he has to change, or make Sehun realise, how he feels about him. He forces a smile onto his face and stares into the mirror. Everything looks fine, except his eyes. His eyes say I can’t even fake a smile for the one I love.

He pulls himself out of the bathroom, back to the bedroom. He expects to see Sehun still snoozing, lying face down on his stomach, totally untouched by the blankets because hyung, don’t get mad at me but you always steal all the blankets!

But he doesn’t.

There’s no Sehun. No messy bed hair. No black singlet riding up his back, exposing a small perfect portion of his skin. His pillow is even untouched.

He stops to see if he can hear pans or the rattling of cutlery in the kitchen, something to say that perhaps Sehun had woken up early for the first time in his life to make breakfast. When nothing comes back except for Luhan’s loud breathing, he lets an accidental sob escape his quivering lips.

Day One. Sehun leaves.

Luhan is about to push his face back into his own pillow and scream as loud as he can when a glimpse of something catches his eye. He hesitantly picks up his phone from the bedside table, the scratches on the screen reminding him of the state he had been in last night. While Luhan opens his messages, his eyes automatically zone in on that bold sentence that he never wants to see again.

[I’m breaking up with you.]

He deletes it.

And opens the new message from Sehun.

[Hyung, something happened at work and they needed me to get there early.]

Luhan lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

Day one. Sehun stays.

[It’s alright. I was worried, but now I’m alright.]

He waits a little and then chooses to quickly send another, he doesn’t even know why.

[I love you.]

He waits a while. Two minutes pass and he doesn’t even realise it. He stands there anxiously, staring at his phone, not wanting to blink in case he misses the notification. His heart begins beating again when he feels the familiar vibrating in his hands.

[I know…I love you too, Luhan.]

Luhan smiles to himself. He can’t see his eyes of course, but he knows that at least if someone saw him now, they would honestly believe he was happy.

---

The minute hand moves every sixty seconds, and Luhan is counting every single time it does. He sees that it is an hour past the time Sehun is usually home by. Even on heavy-traffic days, he’s never this late. Luhan paces around the kitchen while dinner sits on the table, warding off the cool breeze and trying to keep itself as hot as possible. After what seems like hours, though it probably is – Luhan gave up watching the clock a while ago - he hears the front door click open and his head instantly snaps up. Sehun drags himself in and notices Luhan standing in the by the counter top. He seems to ignore the stone cold spaghetti bolognaise, probably now glued to the plate, sitting on the table.

“You’re…late…”

Sehun slowly brings himself to meet Luhan’s gaze. It’s a while before he says anything. Luhan doesn’t know why he expects an answer, because he’s never questioned Sehun about anything. They have always been true to each other. There was nothing they had to hide.

So why did it feel like Luhan was welcoming a stranger into his house?

Work is all Sehun mutters, as if it explains everything. Luhan doesn’t want to question him further. He’s afraid of something. He’s afraid of the way Sehun is acting. He’s afraid that if he says anything, five days will turn into tomorrow and it won’t be I love you; it’ll be I’m leaving. So he doesn’t say anything, and he watches Sehun disappear into the bedroom, leaving Luhan to scrape the plates of spaghetti into the bin, like it wasn’t Sehun’s favourite food or something.

Day One. Sehun doesn’t tell me anything.

It hurts.