A/N: There really needs to be more long Krishun stories in life. 

Words: 1,721

Summary; Because watching his nerdy, dorky childhood friend grow up to be on legs was one of the most painful experiences Sehun had ever dealt with in his life.

Chapter 1/?; How We First Met

---

It was a Sunday in late autumn when seven year old Oh Sehun saw the weird moving van pull up to the house next to his. A quiet, but curious child, Sehun opted to silently watching from his bedroom window. One by one, big people came out. They were all carrying some type furniture, and were wearing the ugliest navy blue jumpsuits. Unconsciously, the brown haired boy could feel his nose wrinkle in distaste. How could they wear those things out in public? They looked horridly filthy and very, very bland--

"Sehun! Sweetie, come downstairs. We need to welcome the new neighbors!" His mother's gleeful, but tired voice startled the seven year old from his thoughts.

Giving a small sigh, and throwing one last glance out his window, Sehun started towards the door. He shut it softly behind him, tumbling down the stairs and walking up to his mother who was currently pulling a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven. He stood, silently waiting for her to notice his presence.

“Sehun,” She finally stated. “Sehun, listen to me.”

I am listening. He mentally snapped back, reluctantly raising his head to look up at his mother. Hurry up and say what you need to say.

As if she could detect his rude thoughts, the elder turned to glare slightly at her smart child. “The neighbors have a son,” She said, voice stern as she arranged fresh cookies on a plate. “He's a bit older than you, but I want you two to be good friends, okay?”

When all she got was an eye roll in response, his mother snapped. “Sehun!”

The seven year old sighed, finally muttering the words yes, mother under his breath.

His mother was one of the most clueless people he had ever met. Didn't she understand? He didn't have friends; he didn't want friends – he didn't need friends. Especially not some kid from next door. What if he was gross, snot nosed, and dirty like all the other boys in his class? What if he had a horrid fashion sense like his mother and those guys in the blue jumpsuits? What if he wore plaid? Oh god, no.

About to run back upstairs and lock himself in his room forever, Sehun felt his mother roughly grab onto one of his precious ears, scowling venomously as he got dragged to the front door.

“N-No!” His tiny, seven year old voice pleaded quietly.

“ it up, you little brat.” His mother grinned at him, pushing his small body out the front door and shoving the big plate of cookies into his tiny hands. “You're not coming back inside until you go next door and invite the neighbors son over for a play date, understood?”

“M-Mothe—”

“I love you, sweetie. Have fun, bye!”

And then the door slammed in his face.

As he heard the faint click of the lock go off from outside, Sehun frowned, making a mental note to himself to fill all of his mother's shampoo bottles with paint. How dare she lock him out of his own home! The nerve of her..

Looking down at his current attire, the brown haired boy deemed his crisp white button down and freshly ironed slacks passable. No wrinkles, no smudges, and definitely no plaid. That was good. Flexing his toes absentmindedly, the small boy then realized – er, he had no shoes.

Ugh, whatever. The sooner he got this stupid meet the neighbors thing done, the sooner he could get revenge on his mother and use her credit card to buy this month's Vogue magazines. He could walk a couple yards barefoot..no problem...

I feel like such a savage. Eyes glancing down at the giant plate of cookies in his hands, Sehun blanched. A fat, fat savage.

Sehun walked out onto his front yard, nose wrinkling once again as he laid eyes on the men in blue jumpsuits. Seriously, they needed to change. He walked down the sidewalk aimlessly, grimacing at the feel of small pebbles digging into the undersides of his feet. He would need a bath later; a long, long bath.

“U-Um...Hello?” It was a voice. A sniffling, slightly cracky voice that came out of no where – and then, then some stupid body was bumping into his.

And then, surprised, Sehun jumped, dropped the plate of cookies on the floor, tripped over the damn garden hose and ungracefully fell on his seven year old tushy.

It took a few seconds for Sehun to realize what just happened. Though, when he did, the only thoughts that came to mind were oh that so did not just happen.

---

It was a Sunday in late autumn when ten year old Wu Yifan pulled up to his new home in Korea. His was numb from sitting in the car for too long, and his allergies were acting up. Thick rimmed glasses once again falling from the bridge of his nose, and Yifan carefully pushed them back up, grimacing at how dirty they were. He took them off, set on cleaning the grime off the lenses.

Just then, the car door opened.

Just then, his father pulled him out of the parked vehicle.

Just then, Wu Yifan heard a crack.

Just then, Wu Yifan realized he had stepped on his glasses.

Yifan could feel his sensitive eyes widen as they welled up with tears. “M-My glasse—”

“Yifan, hurry up.” His father's cold, scolding voice broke the ten year old from his plea. “You need to help take stuff inside.”

“B-Baba, my glass—” Slap.

“Don't talk back.” His father growled, hand still risen in anger. “Go!” He yelled.

The sting of his father's hand still burning on his cheek, Yifan gulped, running off quickly before his father saw the tears in his eyes. His father hated crying. For every tear that fell from Yifan's eyes, his father was sure to give him ten sharp hits to the face. Men aren't supposed to cry, he says. Are you a man, Yifan? You look so pathetic when you cry. Stop crying.

But Yifan couldn't help it.

He had always been a sensitive child. Tears fell naturally, and words were hard to use. He didn't talk much, and he wasn't particularly good at anything. His sight was terrible; without his glasses, Yifan could barely see five feet in front of his face. Yifan liked to have his hair in his face. It was like a curtain, hiding him from the world. Yifan didn't like the world.

Because the world was cruel.

The tears, they just kept falling. And Yifan really didn't know where he was now. All he saw were splotches of red and orange; probably all the autumn trees. Spots of white, gray...the houses...the sidewalk...where was the moving van? His father would be so mad if he saw Yifan wasn't helping.

“M-Mothe—” A voice.

Yifan heard it, the voice was soft, premature and a little scratchy. A few seconds later Yifan heard the prompt sound of a door shutting closed, and then he heard footsteps. They sounded like they were coming in his direction, so, he spoke.

“U-Um...Hello?”

It took a few seconds, but he bumped into something. It was warm, shorter than him, and it was when he heard a crash and a plop sound, did Yifan realize he had just knocked someone to the ground.

“I-I'm so sorry!” Yifan fell to his knees, blinding groping around for the body he had bumped into. He found it, finally, gripping onto what felt like a shoulder.

---

“I-I'm so sorry!”

Gaze still pointed at the ground, Sehun could feel a hand grab onto his shoulder. The hand was shaking badly, almost trembling.

“A-Are you okay?” The voice asked once again, laced with worry and sadness. Sehun could tell now. It was a boy.

Okay, good. That meant he didn't have to mind his manners.

“I-I'm Yifan..I just moved in next door,” Oh. So this was the kid his mother wanted him to befriend.

Shifting his gaze slightly, Sehun rolled his eyes as he came across the broken plate of cookies his mother had given him. So much for that.

Sniffling. He heard more sniffling. Was the kid crying? Why? Sehun hadn't even said anything mean yet.

Sighing for another good measure, Sehun silently turned his head up, light brown orbs finally looking at the incompetent child that had bumped into him. And as Sehun laid eyes on the human being before him, he could feel his chest tighten.

Because he really was crying.

The boy before him, he really did have a horrible sense of clothing. Sehun could feel his nose crinkle in disgust as his eyes trailed over the boy's ripped, baggy jeans and dirty gray pullover. His clothes, they were – wrong on so many levels. Eyes trailing up to the boy's face, Sehun could see – his lips were very dry and cracked, and his bottom teeth were crooked. His hair was a complete mess, falling into his face and sticking up in odd directions. Sehun exhaled tiredly, hadn't this kid ever heard of a brush?

And then, he got there. His eyes.

The seven year old could slowly feel his scowl disappear. His eyes were...they were pretty. His irises, still glistening with tears, were rimmed black; fading into a soft, hazel brown. Long eyelashes followed suit, wet and clumping together slightly. Yes, Sehun liked his eyes. While while looking into them, he could see it; the boy's unawareness of where he was, and the sadness he held inside.

Finally, Sehun spoke.

“Yifan, huh?”

“Um, yes..”

“Why are you crying?”

“B-Because...”

“I hate your hair.”

“Thank..you..?”

And then Sehun stood, brushing off his bum before grabbing the older boy's hand, dragging him back to his front door, and ignoring the confused sputters spilling from the boy's mouth. He turned to Yifan.

“My name is Sehun. We're going to be bestfriends.”

And that was the start of their wonderful, wonderful friendship.

---

A/N: The first few chapters will be of Sehun & Yifan growing up together, and then the real conflict will start. This will be a multi-chap; I don't care if no one reads it, because I'll at least be satisfied that there's another long KrisHun fic in the world. Also please note that Sehun & Yifan are three years apart; it'll help for events later in the story. Hope you enjoyed; I'll see you whenever I update next.

P.s; I know Yifan seems very shy/girly/bottom-ish right now, but don't worry; this is to help over exaggerate his character development that will take place later on. Yifan is still the top/seme/the one who gets to Sehun into the mattress, so just wait.