He can hear his heartbeat, it's louder than the roar of the engine.

 

He notes, with chagrin, that eight years ago, this would have been his parents racing to the school. But now, it’s him. He pulls into a space haphazardly and stumbles out of the car, taking off at a run and locking the doors hastily behind him.

 

Joonmyun, dressed in a suit and tie, races down the halls based on muscle memory. It’s not exactly hard; where he’s going is where he spent most of his high school life. He rounds one last corner and spots the faux wooden door. He skids to a halt and throws it open, eyes searching the sterile interior until they fall upon a hunched body. He’s by the boy’s side in a second, arms wrapped around the kid.

 

“What were you thinking?” He hisses, eyes burning. “Why on earth did you do that?” He cradles the body closer to his chest, rocking the boy from side to side. “It wasn’t worth it,” he whispers. The boy in his arms begins to shake and Joonmyun clutches him closer.

 

“He put up quite a fight.”

 

Joonmyun’s head snaps up, glaring at the intruder, a tall man in the corner busy brewing coffee. The nurse doesn’t seem to be present. A sob wrenches from Sehun’s chest and Joonmyun pulls away slightly, hand gliding through the boy’s hair. “Show me,” he murmurs, trying to get a good look at the boy’s face.

 

Sehun looks up and Joonmyun sighs, though it’s not as bad as he thought. Not as bad as he remembers. The boy has one black eye that’s been looked at, Joonmyun can see that the swelling might have been worse, and a busted lip and a scrape on his cheek that have both been poorly bandaged. Joonmyun will fix them both when he gets home. He looks down and raises the boy’s hand that has an ice pack in it back up to his eye. “Does it hurt?” Sehun shakes his head and Joonmyun grits his teeth.

 

He hates it when the kid lies.

 

“So you must be his brother,” the man in the back begins, shuffling around on the coffee table. “You were listed as the number one contact, and the nurse had a few questions for you. She just left, you’ll have to wait until she comes back,” then the man turns and Joonmyun gasps, looking at the ground and tugging Sehun away.

 

He has to leave. He has to get out of here. He has to– “sorry.”

 

The man looks up from his coffee. “What is it?”

 

Sehun makes a strangled noise as he’s yanked out the door and down the hall, Joonmyun threatening to tear his arms out of his socket. The man frowns and dashes forward, shouting, “hey! Wait!” But Joonmyun’s already out the door.

 

“You can’t be around that man, do you understand me?”

 

Sehun frowns as Joonmyun carefully buckles him into the passenger seat of his car. “Who? Mr. Wu? Joon, he teaches literature, I’d never take his class–”

 

“Good,” Joonmyun interrupts, starting up the car. “Then I don’t ever want to see him again.”

 

Sehun’s face scrunches up, but he doesn’t say anything, opting to hold the stolen ice pack below his eye, where the skin’s starting to hurt again. He doesn’t bring it up again until they’re within the safety of their adequate townhouse, himself perched on the kitchen counter and Joonmyun searching through a first aid crate. The elder lets out a high-pitched, “aha!” pulling out bandages, ointment, and another ice pack which he promptly tosses into the freezer. He’s dabbing white cream on Sehun’s cheek when he pops the question.

 

“Why don’t you want me seeing him?”

 

“Who?” Joonmyun hums, busying himself with a large bandage.

 

“Mr. Wu.” Sehun screeches and glares as Joonmyun slaps the bandage on his cheek particularly hard.

 

“Because,” Joonmyun huffs, patting the boy’s cheek apologetically a second later. “Also, no more fights.”

 

Sehun stares at the man, aghast. “But you didn’t hear what they were saying!” He yells, “You didn’t hear the things they called you and I just had to–”

 

“Sehun,” Joonmyun hushes the boy, cleaning the cut on his lip. “Not your problem,” he insists tersely, tapping the injured cheek when Sehun makes to reply. “Now. What you want for dinner?”

 

Sehun scowls and crosses his arms. This won’t be the end.

 

-

 

The next day sees Sehun scurrying into a classroom as the rest of the school heads to lunch. He closes the door behind him silently and makes sure the chair doesn’t squeak as he sits down. Despite his best efforts, he sees inquisitive brown eyes watching him when he looks up.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Sehun puffs out his chest. “I didn’t want to scare the guys from yesterday, figured I’d given them enough of a reason not to mess with me. Didn’t want to add insult to injury, y’know?” He stretches his arms and hisses and winces when it pulls on a sore muscle from the day before.

 

“Right,” the teacher agrees, eyeing him dubiously. “Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d be in school today.”

 

Sehun shrugs. “My brother didn’t want me to come in either, but I didn’t want them thinking I was scared. Plus I had a history test today so,” he taps his fingers on his unopened lunch box, “here I am.” He fingers the velcro strap, gently pulling it away so that he can reach in and grab an apple.

 

When he looks back up, the literature teacher is sitting on the desk beside him, staring down at him thoughtfully. “You’ve got spunk, kid,” he announces. Then the man reaches forward and ruffles his hair and Sehun scowls, trying to fix his bleached strands.

 

“Ugh, that’s what Joonmyun does.”

 

The older man freezes atop the desk. “Joonmyun?”

 

Sehun nods, not aware anything is amiss. “My brother, Joonmyun,” he states matter-of-factly, fixing his part with a satisfactory smile.

 

“What’s his last name?”

 

Sehun an eyebrow, but answers nonetheless. “Kim. It’s Joonmyun Kim.”

 

“But I thought your name was…”

 

“Oh?” Sehun answers for the man as he trails off. He takes a bite of his apple, scrunching up his face when his split lip stings in response. “It is. Sehun Oh. We’re step-brothers. It worked out really nicely. After my parents divorced when I was a toddler, my mom met his dad at work and they got put on a contract together so they’re out of the country for a few more years. Having Joonmyun around means I don’t have to live with my aunt,” he finishes distastefully, face scrunching up at the thought. “Why, though?”

 

“I,” the man starts, staring at the floor, “I used to go to school with him. Here.”

 

“You went to high school with Joonmyun?” Sehun asks, eyes alight. “He never talks about high school, though…” he trails off with a sour face, taking another bite out of the rosy apple.

 

The man coughs. “Yeah. Well, um, what’s he doing now?”

 

“He’s a lobbyist. Some health insurance company. They usually have him do cubicle work, though,” Sehun scrunches his nose and the older man finds himself laughing. “He wants to do more work, like talking to people and stuff. He’s good at it, I’m just waiting for other people to realize it,” Sehun sighs, “but he likes it. So.”

 

“That’s good,” the man murmurs. Then the bell rings and he shoos a whining Sehun out of his class after promising the boy he can come back any time.

 

-

 

Joonmyun arrives home before Sehun, the boy had insisted on staying after for soccer and Joonmyun had almost blown a vessel trying to argue him out of it, and failing. He parks his mid sized car in front of the house, yanks his briefcase out of the trunk and rolls his shoulders back, groaning at the tension.

 

He drags himself up the walkway, fully intending to collapse on the couch until the younger gets home, when he finds a bouquet of bright flowers–pinks, oranges and yellows–on the doorstep. He eyes them suspiciously, looking both ways before setting his briefcase down and picking them up. They smell delightful and Joonmyun smiles. He reaches in to find a small card.

 

I’m sorry.

-K.W.

 

Joonmyun throws the bouquet in the trash and flops onto the couch.

 

-

 

Sehun begins a pattern of dashing out of class as soon as the lunch bell rings and racing to Mr. Wu’s class as fast as his feet will carry him. Sehun will lie and say that he just wants to beat the rush and the older man will laugh and try to start a conversation on western literature while simultaneously trying to a book in Sehun’s face. Sehun will groan and bat the book away and the man will laugh.

 

At the same time, Joonmyun develops a timetable of going to work, doing his job, then reaching home before Sehun so that he can chuck the bouquet of flowers in the trash before the boy can notice. The first few days, he’d read the card inside but found it to be the same message. Now he just grabs the stems, walks inside, and stuffs them into the trash which is actually starting to smell quite nice. The flowers are a different color every day. Joonmyun tries not to notice.

 

-

 

Kris impatiently taps his fingers on his desk, staring up at the clock. The bell had gone two minutes ago and the kid wasn’t here yet. He’s sure he’d seen him this morning. He waits another minute before it’s too much and he has to get up.

 

He languidly walks down the halls, searching for any signs of the boy. Then he hears shouting.

 

“Say that one more time!”

 

Kris takes off running. He reaches the corridor just as two boys are advancing forward.

 

“Your brother is a–”

 

Sehun screams. Kris grabs him. “Get out of here. Go to lunch,” he orders the other boys, holding back a squirming Sehun.

 

“That’s right! Run away!” The younger yells, spitting at them as they slink away, screaming when they’ve gone. He glares up at Kris. “I could have–”

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kris hisses, glaring at the boy. “You’re still recovering from last time. What if I hadn’t shown up? What if you had to get hospitalized?”

 

Sehun says nothing, trying to push Kris’ arms off himself. Once he succeeds, he rests against a wall. “You don’t understand,” he mutters, “I didn’t–they came out of nowhere and,” he pauses, wiping at his eyes, “Joonmyun doesn’t deserve that. He works hard every day so that people won’t think that about him. But it doesn’t change the face that he’s gay. For some reason, that makes him less. But it doesn’t! Why can’t they look past that?”

 

Kris pulls the boy close and awkwardly pats his head. “It’s okay,” he assures the boy. “Not everyone thinks that way. And it’s those people who matter.”

 

Sehun looks up at him, only a few inches, with teary eyes. “Why are you so nice?” Then he wipes his eyes so he can’t see the brief frown that crosses Kris’ face.

 

-

 

Joonmyun keeps up with the disposing of flowers and Kris and Sehun resume their lunch meetings.

 

Of course, none are the wiser.

 

Joonmyun and Sehun exchange pleasantries and teases in the morning and late afternoon, but other than that are completely oblivious to one another, which is why Sehun finds himself sitting on the curb in front of the school fifteen minutes after the majority have left.

 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he hisses at his cell, groaning when it goes to voicemail. He stuffs the phone back in his pocket and thinks of his next move.

 

“Sehun?”

 

The boy jumps. “Hey, Mr. Wu,” he greets lamely, fiddling with his fingers.

 

“School let out a while ago, Oh,” the man informs the boy with a look. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”

 

“Soccer practice got cancelled,” Sehun explains, forgoing his sarcastic option. “Joonmyun’s not picking up, so I guess I’m stuck here until he comes at the usual time… in two hours.”

 

“Kid,” Kris chuckles, “I can give you a ride home.”

 

Sehun jumps up immediately, smile plastered on his face. “Really?”

 

“Yeah sure, follow me,” Kris says, leading the way towards the faculty parking lot and grinning when he hears Sehun jog after him. He opens the door to a red prius and pretends not to hear the muttered, “of course it’s a prius.” He waits until the boy is buckled up before pulling out of the lot and towards the main road.

 

“Wait!” Sehun says, “don’t you need to know my address?”

 

“Oh, um,” Kris stops the car. “Yeah. Where do you live?”

 

Sehun arches a brow and gives his address, watching as the man continues the same way he had been going before with a critical eye. He brushes it off after a couple of minutes.

 

They reach home before Joonmyun, and Sehun points this out, noting the absence of the outmoded car. “I have a key,” he adds.

 

“Okay, then I’ll just–”

 

“We have cookies,” Sehun interrupts, “Joonmyun made too many a couple days ago. We have a lot left over.”

 

“Sehun I don’t think–”

 

“Oh come on,” the boy groans, rolling his eyes. “You and Joonmyun can talk about high school stuff! It’ll be great!”

 

“Sehun, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kris argues, but turns off the car and allows the boy to lead him up to the front door.

 

“What–” Sehun stops at the doorstep. “What are these?” The boy bends down and picks up a bouquet of flowers. He admires them aloud while opening the door, ushering Kris inside first. “Oh, there’s a letter!” He exclaims in excitement, smile slipping as he reads it to himself. “It’s an apology? Weird.”

 

Joonmyun throws open the door. “Sehun, whose car–” He spots Kris in the living room. “Sehun. What is he doing here?”

 

Sehun shrugs. “He brought me home so I figured I’d invite him in. He said you guys went to school together so I thought you could talk or something.”

 

“Sehun, go to your room.”

 

The boy looks appalled. “Wha–”

 

“Go to your room,” the elder orders once more.

 

Sehun huffs and sets the bouquet down on the kitchen table, turning and running up the stairs. A door slams shut and Joonmyun grabs the flowers, tossing them into the trash.

 

“Is that what you’ve been doing with them?” Kris asks, breaking the silence. “You could have just told me and I’d have stopped.”

 

Joonmyun moves towards the door and holds it open. “I’m not going to talk about this in my house,” he says simply, walking outside. Kris follows, walking beside the shorter man. They head out of the block of houses, down a flight of concrete stairs, and are about two minutes down a woodsy trail when Joonmyun speaks. “Is this some kind of trick?”

 

“What?”

 

“Are you messing with Sehun?” Joonmyun demands, glaring up at the man. “Because if you harm a hair on that kid, I will end you.”

 

“No, no, no,” Kris says, trying to calm the other down. “Sehun’s a good kid, I would never.”

 

Joonmyun stops abruptly. “Then what are you trying to do?”

 

“I’m trying to apologize,” Kris admits, averting his eyes. “What I did was wrong. Very wrong. I realize that, and I’m trying to apologize.”

 

“Yeah?” Joonmyun laughs bitterly. “Well flowers won’t make the scars go away.”

 

Kris’s face falls. “Oh god, Joonmyun, I can’t tell you–”

 

“How sorry you are? That you would never do it now?” Joonmyun grits out. “That doesn’t mean jack to me. I’ve blocked it all out and I’ve moved on. You should too. Now stop messing around with my brother and leave me alone.”

 

Kris grabs Joonmyun’s wrist before he can escape, trying not to look at the lethal glare that’s shot his way. “Can you give me a second chance?”

 

“At what?”

 

Kris takes in a deep breath. “Being friends.”

 

Joonmyun barks out a laugh. “Are you kidding me?” He shakes his wrist free. “Get lost, Kris.”

 

“Joonmyun,” Kris tries again, jogging over to the boy, “please. I’ve changed. I grew up and I realized how wrong I was. I regret everything I did to you. Please. Just let me try and make it up to you.”

 

“I still have the scar from the stitches they gave me after you pushed me down the stairs,” Joonmyun murmurs, biting his lip and sighing. He looks up at Kris. “Why?”

 

“You’re a nice guy, you deserve better,” Kris shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “That’s why.”

 

Joonmyun blinks. “Are you sure that’s you’re Kris Wu?”

 

-

 

It’s dark by the time they get home, chatting casually, a fair amount of distance between them but the hint of smiles on each of their faces. Sehun grins from behind the front window, ducking away to hide.

 

Joonmyun idles in front of his door, wondering how he should end this.

 

“So, what do you think?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Kris scuffs his foot against the ground. “Giving me a second chance.”

 

Joonmyun taps his lip thoughtfully. “Maybe.”

 

Kris’ face breaks into a grin.

 

“But only if I get more flowers,” and then he ducks inside the house, slamming the door shut behind him. He doesn’t have to fight the grin when he hears a shouted, “of course!” on the other side.