“We're here.”

The 23-year-old peered down his Ray-Ban aviators and out of the window at the 3-storey mansion his manager pointed out and a derisive snort escaped him. That house? That was the home of the great Qiuyue? She was living a good life without him, wasn't she?

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Luhan fired a glare at his manager through the mirror. “Are you kidding me, Zitao?” he asked acidly. “What have I got to lose after the scandal?”

"But your foster parents—”

“Hid things from me.” interrupted Luhan. “How could they not have told me Qiuyue was my birth mother? Do you have any idea how much I suffered growing up, Tao? There is no way I'll let this go.” He adjusted the sunglasses on his head and glanced out. “Besides, she was the one who admitted I'm her son. She owes me an explanation.”

The uncomfortable expression on Zitao’s face escaped Luhan as the idol yanked open the car door and grabbed his luggage from the boot. Without a second glance at his manager, Luhan gave him a three-finger wave over his shoulder and stalked towards the mansion.

The boy who opened the door was clearly aware of who Luhan was, judging from the wide-eyed look he shot him. Luhan didn’t bother introducing himself; instead, he strode past him in disdain, gesturing for him to bring his luggage into the house.

“Where’s Qiuyue?” he asked, voice booming in the otherwise quiet living room. The boy who had opened the door for him earlier appeared behind him, struggling with Luhan’s luggage so much that Luhan glared at him. “Be careful with that. It’s worth more than your life.”

“What’s going on?” Luhan’s eyes flicked up to meet the gaze of the other male who spoke at the foot of the stairs. “Aren’t you—?”

Luhan pulled the sunglasses off his face casually and sat them on the top of his head, plopping down onto the sofa as though it was his home he was in. Technically, it was, wasn’t it?

“Ma went out earlier… but she should be back in an hour or so,” the male said, exchanging a look with the boy from earlier. He stood in front of Luhan and offered him his hand to shake. “I’m Yixing. That is Sehun. Nice to—”

Without waiting for Yixing to complete his sentence, Luhan swiped his hand away and stalked up the stairs. He didn’t need to look back to know that the two of them were probably cursing his presence here but he didn’t care. He wasn’t here to make friends. He was here for answers and where he was concerned, those 2 were the strangers. Not him.

“I want this room,” he said, to the pair of baffled brothers who had followed him up the stairs. Sehun’s eyes widened at the room he pointed out.

“But that’s Yixing ge’s room!”

Like he gave a this room was taken.  In his eyes, the room was the best one ever – it had a bathroom attached to it and a balcony that faced the main road so he could see who was coming up the driveway.

“Who are you to in and take Yixing ge’s room?” Sehun asked angrily despite Yixing trying to shush him.

Luhan raised an eyebrow at them.

“Haven’t you heard?” he drawled. “I’m Qiuyue’s real son.”

● ● ●

Dinner was expectedly tense. The trot singer whom Luhan learnt was his birth mother would not stop sneaking glances at him. It was enough to make him lose his appetite.

“So… you really intend to stay here?” Qiuyue asked slowly.

The hesitance in her voice made Luhan flare up. What the ? She was the one who ing announced he was her son in that exclusive interview without asking him first and now she had the audacity to want to reject him from living with her? Did she have no shame? Was it not enough that she didn’t want him the first time around?

 “Yes,” he said in a steely voice. “I can’t stay at my apartment. Reporters are trawling the place. Sure doesn’t help that you exposed the truth about my birth when things are ty enough for me already.”

Sehun, who had been silently glowering at Luhan till then, perked up at hearing that. “So the scandal’s true then?” he asked curiously. “You really have something going on with Abel Chung? Why? With your terms, surely you can find someone better. He’s just a rookie act—”

“Sehun,” warned Yixing, the same time Luhan threw the fork onto the table. Yixing eyed him warily, as though Luhan was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Well, he was.

The older woman at the head of the table cringed at the sound of the fork clanging against the plate. “Sehun didn’t mean it,” Qiuyue said gently, reaching over for Luhan’s hand. “He just speaks without thinking.”

Hearing Qiuyue defend her adopted son pissed Luhan even more. Wow, wasn’t she good at defending her fake son? Shouldn’t she be taking his side? Shouldn’t she be scolding that insolent bastard? He flung her hand away from him rudely.

“I hear these days you are managing some book café,” he said instead. “I want to see it.”

In front of him, Yixing tensed just the slightest bit.

Qiuyue bit her lower lip and glanced at her older adopted son. “Actually,” she started carefully, “I retired from it a while back. Yixing is the one managing it nowadays. If you like, I can ask him to take you there tomorrow?”

“Fine,” Luhan said curtly and stood up from the table, his plate of food untouched.

He made sure to slam the door of his new bedroom loudly before flopping onto the bed with his arm thrown over his eyes. The pang in his chest was difficult to ignore but he expected this. He had expected feeling out of place here. But he hadn’t expected for it to hurt so much, to see his birth mother look so comfortable with her 2 adopted sons and so… awkward with him.

He didn’t want to admit that somewhere deep inside, Luhan had hoped that it’d be a happy reunion, for him to reunite with his mother. But how could he forget how she abandoned him?

“Did you hear? His mother didn’t want him!”

“Maybe she thinks he’s too ugly.”

“Ewww, Luhan is an unwanted child.”

“I bet he has a disease!”

“Sorry, we don’t play with unwanted kids.”

Unwanted memories of him being rejected by his peers resurfaced even though he had ceased thinking about it since his debut three years ago. Luhan flung his the pillow across the room in frustration, the resentment boiling under his skin.

He was going to make her sorry for giving him up.