Despite what it seems, Sehun does not spend all his time with the elder man, and on a stormy day where it would be sheer stupidity to venture out into the chaotic rumble of ripping wind and wolf-like howls, he does his best to ignore the shutters that quiver like shivers down a body and instead turns his gaze to his mother. She eyes him expectantly yet kindly from behind the counter of the fish and chips shop they own, a quaint homey place which has seen better days yet has existed for so long it is preferred over many other similar joints, an elderly grandfather which the grandchildren feel obligated to run to despite not knowing exactly which side of the family it is he originates from. It has an interior of off-white, pastel green and the same shade of blue as the sky on a brilliant summer’s day, with seats at the window and tables that wobble slightly when too much weight is applied on one side. It’s not a five-star restaurant or the perfect dining experience but it is everything which is home and the soft warmth of family to the tall male whom so oftentimes feels as if he does not connect to what matters most.

It is the same shop that Sehun likes to purchase meals from on a discount. He’s never given it free because his parents like to say he needs to learn financial dependency. Sehun doesn’t hold this against them because he can still reminisce in vivid detail the drifting memories of his childhood where at two o’clock the shadow the sun casts would be perfectly set so that he could snag a stray chip or two. On days when his parents felt particularly lenient, he would even be able to get away with a whole fish bite, not without an exasperated sigh and shake of the head from whoever would be the one to catch him.

Sehun holds a great fondness for these memories, because they remind him of what once was and what still is. They are the multiple 30-second clips and lop-sided jigsaw pieces that somehow unbelievably come together to contribute to the living, breathing contradictory being who is Oh Sehun today. Even though he shelves these memories meticulously in the recesses of his mind in shiny glass jars that collect dust and begin to fade over time, he will never forget what is important. The emotions and the smiles and the embrace of arms on a summer’s day which is so warm such a hug would be rejected were it not for the fact that this warmth touches on a place which the sun cannot, and that is the organ affectionately called the heart and the imagined being called the soul. These sort of things will remain radiant forever more, so impossible are they to forget.

His mother turns owl-wise eyes kindly to him, and the two sit in companionable silence as she takes the time to analyse and examine and draw the conclusions in her mind. “When can I meet him?” she wonders aloud.

Sehun feels confusion settling on his shoulders. “Meet who?”

“The one who has placed such a happy twinkle in my son’s eyes.” She responds, hands reaching up and slightly wrinkled skin brushing against the cheeks of the young lanky male. A line is traced from the cheeks up to the eyes, before she drops her hands with a contented air and smiles expectantly at the other.

“What makes you think it was someone who made me happy?” It is impossible to deny his bliss.

She gives a benignant smile. “A mother knows all.”

The younger lifts his hands in surrender, giving a good-natured crinkle of the eyes in sheepishness. “Alright, you caught me.” He pulls out a photo – the two had stopped by a photo booth on one of their outings, and against Sehun’s protestations they had proceeded to capture their faces with a click, snap, and print. He passes it to his mother with bated breath, anticipating the verdict.

“He’s a keeper!” she crows, eyes drinking in the image of Luhan hungrily before a frown pulls both her lips and the mood down. “Clear up those issues, son.”

He gives a jolt, turns to stare at her with wide eyes. “What?”

She gives a knowing sort of smile, raises a finger to tap twice at Luhan’s frozen smile and stares out the window with that same faraway expression the doe-eyed male gets sometimes. “The same look was present in your father’s eyes on the day he passed away.”

Later that same day, the thunderstorm clears and Sehun immediately rushes out to meet with the older man who is, quite predictably waiting for him. He doesn’t remember that final strange statement said by his mother, but does ask if Luhan wants to meet his family. In an apologetic voice Luhan says no, he cannot and when pressed, does not offer much by way of explanation. For all his shortcomings however, Sehun is able to overlook and focus on the good, so he doesn’t let this bring him down and instead decides to make do with the time they have left.

They settle on purchasing yet another set of photos in a photo booth, and snap a total of four separate photos.

Number one depicts a smiling Luhan and a pokerfaced Sehun.

Number two depicts a smiling Luhan and a pokerfaced Sehun, one arm of the elder s around the younger male’s waist, other attempting to wrap around his shoulder but not long enough to do so comfortably.

Number three depicts a smiling Luhan and Sehun with the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips in an upwards curl. Luhan resumes the same pose as in number two, but there is a switch – Sehun too has opted to wrap an arm around his waist. They’re close.

Number four depicts both males smiling broad, dazzling grins from ear to ear, anxiety free from their eyes and with the barest, simplest and undiluted bliss. There is no sign of encrypted fear, no notable panic. In that moment, the only thing important is who and when, and for Sehun and Luhan, it is each other and the very moment the shutter clicks with a bright, blinding flash.

-

Of course, there is one very important thing that should be remembered about summer, and that is the fact that however blissful the days seem, however you may live so that the seconds feel like eternity, it will eventually, unconditionally end. Warmth will give way to the stark loneliness of ice, bright colours will come to hold a semi-permanent hue of grey, and the most petrifying thing is that all this will occur so painstakingly slowly it will not be noticed until it arrives with a large, thunderous and final stomp.

With the disappearance of summer comes the disappearance of the magic that it carries with it. Gone are the days of candyfloss so fluffy and light it could be mistaken for clouds were it not for the strawberry pink taste and colour.  Gone are the future memories of beaches so blue and yellow the colours which are thought to be near opposite on the spectrum blend together until there seems to be no segregation between the sky and land. Banished are the tinkling bells of laughter. Impossible now, are the days when Sehun can overlook the cracks as if they will be fixed by duct tape and move on pretending nothing is going to ashes.

As much as he would like to believe his life is the perfect picturesque image of quotidian perfection, as much as he can continue to delude himself into thinking there is some bespectacled author slaving away at his life story with a defined happy ending in mind, he needs to come to terms with the fact that real life is not a fictional fancy and it is irrevocable that it will be filled with ups and downs.

What goes up must come down? The male – not a boy, not a man and not irresponsible enough to be a typical teenager – muses to himself as he sits on the same bench he had first met the doe-eyed man on so many weeks ago. He has aged so much yet has embraced his youth with more gusto than ever before, a paradox fancied up in the form of thesaurus-searched words and beautiful chaos.

Sehun breathes in and out in time with the glide of the seagulls and the forced laughter of the children attempting to wrangle a joyous outing from the remains of the fading glow of summer. It’s futile, he wants to inform the young ones who seem so intent on chasing the waves which are retreating faster than their small frames can possibly hope to keep up with, but he recognises that there is a reason why people mature when they do, and it is not yet time. Time is something that the typically apathetical teen has never really bothered to keep track of. Each year without fail he will purchase a cheap calendar with all the important dates marked in slate grey font, and each year without fail he will glance towards it once, maybe twice a month. He doesn’t notice the sand slipping through his fingers until all of it is gone, and so who is he to bring a crude recognition into the minds of others like him who simply don’t wish to realise?

“Sehun-ah?” A familiar presence settles itself down next to him like a comforting blanket, and when he turns his head, he catches the gaze of a familiar man looking up at him expectantly. “Why do you look so sad?”

He’d like to remain as oblivious as those children frolicking across the golden sediments, but he has an expectation to fulfil for one his age, and so it is with much reluctance that he allows the thought to settle in his mind. It is the end of Summer.

Sehun smiles a mirthless smile. Puppet strings pulling the edges of his lips up, and failing to connect to the heart. “Sad? I’m not sad, hyung.”

The other purses his lips, worried little crease forming contours in his forehead. “Yes you are,” he insists. “I can tell.”

The younger allows this to sit, before questioning. “How do you know, hyung?”

“Because,” he taps his nose adorably with two little pats of a finger. “Hyung knows everything!”

Sehun elbows him good naturedly and they laugh, but unlike similar situations in past conversations they have difficulty erasing that deeper layer which they brushed against. The more they try, the closer it seems to grow until it seems they have nothing left to do but accept the direction of the conversation.

“I’m not sad,” the younger is adamant on insisting. He tries to search for words – tries to come up with a way to sum up the heat which is slowly beginning to depart like one, two leaves from a tree, the bitter twang that seems to accompany everything nowadays, and he fails. Eventually, he decides to settle on a simple phrase. “Summer is ending.”

 A quiet “Ahhh” escapes the elder’s lips, and he smiles a doppelganger smile to the one which had graced Sehun’s own just earlier. “I see. Summer is ending, is it?”

Sehun nods. He doesn’t like the ocean deep turmoil in the other’s eyes, but is entranced – like humans are drawn to sights of peril and destruction he is unable to tear his eyes away from the beautiful tragedy before him. “Summer is ending.” He affirms.

There is a pause, before a quiet “I see.” Is murmured by the elder and soon followed by a reign of silence as it takes the grasp of their conversation as he turns his gaze to the ocean and neither make any  further move to continue.

Luhan has been slowly but steadily drifting, and Sehun doesn’t realise until it’s too late. Even if he throws a preserver ring, the elder is too far gone to be brought back to shore.

-

It is somewhere between the bone-breaking churn of the waves and the mocking shadows of the night where Sehun inevitably lets go of the celestial being who is Luhan. In the future, he will look back on this very moment and wonder why his blind eyes were unable to see the signs sooner, he will feel like screaming, he will feel like his heart is being crushed into fragments and pounded into dust, but most of all he will wonder why it is that he cannot forget. He will sit, knock over a stray cup off the table and for a moment his heart will be reduced to its most primal instincts. He will be in tune with the howling of a dog whom has lost its owner, he will be the grieving widow and the vengeful spouse, he will be the throneless king and the ruler with a kingdom of thorns.

From ashes to ashes, dust to dust to the cool and fiery passion of grief, he will eventually move on but will forever face the ultimate punishment. He will never forget.

They depart in summer. The summer which has long since moved out of the spotlight, days of glory long passed. Plastic buckets and shovels have long since been placed meticulously into suitcases and wound up tightly with steel rope on top of cheap-looking but rent-heavy cars-for-hire, and whilst birds continue to swoop and peck at unsuspecting fish, there is a frantic and bare way about things which no longer makes it seem like such an innocent affair. It seems like the world is gearing up for the beginning of Autumn and new memories and a new beginning, but Sehun is still stuck in a point in the past and is unable to move forward – he’s anchored firmly by the weight which is Luhan.

It’s night, a stark contrast to their usual sunny and bright outings. They would have met earlier on in the evening however somehow or another, their meetings have been dwindling down from full days of morning until night, to brief hourly outings at sporadic points of the day. It’s mildly disconcerting, but Sehun knows that their time is fast approaching and does not make any move to broach the topic. Luhan doesn’t show any signs of wanting to bring it up, either. Perhaps they think that if they don’t voice their concerns, it will never be ingrained in reality?

Like many other days, they decide to walk alongside the beach. Sehun chooses to stay a little further inland, but Luhan dances and weaves between the waves and the foreshore, kicking up stray bits of salt water with the edges of soaked flip-flops. He did try beckoning Sehun over to join him, but the younger finds it equally as entertaining to watch him mess around and act like the younger – really, sometimes he reckons their ages should be swapped around for all the maturity they show in ordinary personality.

“Sehun-ah,” Luhan calls out, the sound ripped and distorted slightly by the wind, yet still carrying that same sweetness which seems to linger with everything he does and says. “Come over here. I want to show you something.”

The younger male treks his way over through the damp sand slowly. It is extra soft, and his feet sink in as easily as a knife through soft butter, but he finds his way over eventually. “What is it, hyung?”

A longing smile appears on Luhan’s face, and he points out into the horizon. “The stars on the sea.”

An amused laugh bubbles from the younger’s lips as he humours the other by staring out at sea. It is indeed a pretty image, but “I had to come into the water to see this? How come you couldn’t point this out to me when I was still over there?” he gestured to the spot he had been standing at previously, eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“Honestly? No, you didn’t.” Luhan admits, and he pauses to allow Sehun to turn an expression of disbelief towards him before his voice adapts a more serious tone. “I just wanted our farewell to be on the water.”

Farewell. The word resonates in Sehun’s mind until it comes back full circle. He feels a strange sort of disjointed sense of vertigo as his mind scrambles to catch up to exactly what the elder has just implied, and he can swear he feels his stomach plummeting down to the bottom of the ocean and beyond to the core of the earth. Departure is the farewell at an airport with no expectation to meet again, a one-way ticket on board a train, a cruise-liner ships, a plane.... Sehun knew that it was going to happen soon, but he certainly did not expect for it to be this very moment.

He must’ve been silent for a beat too long, for Luhan takes it as a sign to continue speaking. His tone becomes increasingly more dreamy, but his eyes hold steadfastly on the younger’s own, refusing to break the gaze. “It’s the end of summer, Sehun-ah,” he says, honey orbs boring straight into Sehun’s soul. Luhan sighs a little, raises a hand to scratch at his chin, before continuing, “I’m unable to stay with you any longer. I’m past my time as it is, regardless.”

Sehun blinks. Once, twice. He’s confused. Past his time? Luhan had shown no signs of being one of the typical tourists – in fact, he probably knows the caves better than Sehun does himself. What is the problem? “I don’t-“ he begins. There’re many ways he can finish. Don’t want to accept this, don’t want to listen to you, don’t want this situation in my life. He selects none of these. “understand.” He finishes, before repeating a little more firmly yet a little more lost. “I don’t understand why, hyung.”

The other smiles a tired smile. “You don’t need to understand, Sehun-ah. I’m not going to be around here anymore in a bit, anyway.”

“No!” His own vehemence surprises himself. Sehun is usually not this forthcoming with his emotions. He is a rock, cool and firm and stoic, but somehow or another in the course of a few weeks Luhan has managed to do what no one has ever done before – what no one has ever tried to do before and that is to break through the ice exterior of Oh Sehun and enter into the warmth and boyish charm hidden deep within. In any case, if there is one thing he knows, it is that he does not want the other to go. “You… you can’t go, hyung.” He’s beginning to sound desperate, he knows he is, but he presses on as if this will make a difference. “We have so much more to do, so many more places to go.” He pauses, mind working on overdrive before he continues the string of words that seem to spill from his lips as easily as water down a waterfall. “Remember, hyung? We haven’t even been to the far end of the beach yet, or-“

He is silenced by a soft hand reaching up and gently clamping his lips shut between two delicate fingers. “I know, Sehun-ah,” he continues smiling that beautiful, heart-breaking smile. “I know, and I’m a bad hyung because I’m not going to be able to go to those places with you. I’m sorry, Sehun-ah.”

There is silence between the two which seems to stretch until infinity and beyond, but it eventually loops back to the present. Neither of the two speak, but the eye contact speaks a thousand words and conveys all that they need. Luhan’s hand drifts from the lips to the chin, and Sehun unconsciously leans closer to the touch like a child to their favourite stuffed toy – seeking comfort.

Luhan’s other hand slowly drags up, trails across Sehun’s skin in a smooth glide until he’s cradling the younger’s head in his hands.

The elder breathes a faint whisper “Turn around, and forget me” right before skin meets skin in a joining of tenderness and love.

Sehun closes his eyes as he tastes that familiar taste of strawberry, honey and something a little salty and keeps them closed as he allows his body to be guided by the other.

He opens them precisely five seconds after he feels the pressure disappear.

The landscape is empty; white foam remains at his feet.

a/n: Hello. Are you annoyed at me for this ending? To be honest, I'm annoyed with myself but I really wanted to finish the story and I put too much effort into it to not post, so alas let begones be begones. The quality (or lack there-of) of my writing is steadily decreasing, but I will continue to throw it in people's faces because why not.

If anyone is confused about what happened to Luhan, perhaps EXO may be able to explain -

Baby don’t cry tonight after the darkness passes
Baby don’t cry tonight it’ll become as if it never happened
You’re not the one to disappear into foam, something you never should’ve known