❋

In economics, it is taught that every transaction is purely motivated by self-interest. Luhan supposes that it’s sort of sad to think of the world as that, but it’s true. People are selfish, and every man is an island. Well, perhaps some men were blessed with more bananas (on their islands, notthere, mind you), but in the end, everyone is still stuck in the same game of trade. It’s survival of the fittest, and every man is for himself. (The world is cruel, Claude Frollo once sang. Luhan agrees.)

The sun is unrelenting today, with waves of heat and cancerous light eating at his skin. As Luhan pushes the sweaty brown bangs off his face, he wonders about his island. How many bananas does he have? Is there fresh water, and are there many trade partners? Luhan makes a funny face as he ponders.

Luhan catches a glimpse of the clock hanging on the wall as he looks into the café. It’s three in the afternoon. Luhan pushes open a glass door, and a soft bell chimes in the process. Crossing the café, he pushes past people and spots a man with ginger hair, quietly sipping on his Americano.  His other hand is folded in his lap. Luhan smiles when he sees an iced caramel latte across him. Water droplets are just starting to drip down the plastic surface of the cup.

“Baozi!” Luhan chirps as he plops down on his seat. Minseok’s cheeks looks exceptionally plump today, Luhan thinks. His hands slam down on Minseok’s face. The older boy responds by scrunching up his nose. 

“Luhan,” Minseok greets through squished cheeks, “I ordered your drink for you.” His voice comes out a little muffled. 

Luhan grins at him, eyes glittering. “Thanks, Minseok-ah.” He spares Minseok’s cheeks, relocating his hands to grip at his drink. Luhan rolls his eyes and moans in happiness as the sweet, cool liquid runs down his throat. “Heavenly,” he whispers to himself and mock cries into the sleeve of his graphic tee. 

Minseok laughs softly. It’s a joyful sound ringing into his ears. “It’s not for free though,” Minseok says as he leans his chin on his hands, “it’s six thousand won.” The ginger-haired man puts out his palm expectantly.

A groan escpaes Luhan’s mouth and he grumbles incoherently under his breath. Luhan pulls out the money and slaps it into Minseok’s open hands. “Here,” Luhan says dramatically, pushing Minseok’s hands away, “Take it. Take money from the poor, jobless man.”

Minseok’s lips tug upwards into an amused smile. “You’re not poor. And the jobless part is your fault anyway,” he points out and Luhan pouts, “You have nothing to do now that we’re on break before university starts, but you refuse to work.”  

Luhan shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “Don’t have to,” he says after he swallows. “Papa says I can do whatever I want.” 

“I wish I could too,” Minseok replies, swirling the last of his hot coffee, “I want to be a bum like you too, and do nothing before university. How relaxing.” He sighs. “But nope. I was born into a peasant household with peasant income, and I have to scrub rich people’s shoes.” 

“You can start by scrubbing mine.” Luhan offers teasingly, pointing down to his feet. 

Minseok glares at him, and responds with a “go to hell”. Luhan snickers.

They converse like students without a care in the world.







After three weeks of bumming around, Luhan heeds Minseok’s advice and decides to find a job. 

It’s harder than it looks to find one, Luhan thinks, as he heads out of yet another café. Luhan lets out a small huff as he squints through the harsh afternoon sun. Rounding about at the corner of the street, Luhan slows to a stop in front of a pedestrian crossing, jabbing at the button irritably.

As Luhan waits, he looks up longingly at the sky. It’s a brilliant blue today, and the clouds are so fluffy and white that Luhan wants to lay on them and sleep forever. But time does not wait for anyone, and life moves on. It’s impossible to sleep on clouds forever. They drift off. So Luhan moves on as well. 

The green man flashes awake. Luhan snaps out of his thoughts and steps onto the road, sneakers dragging against the rough gravel. He keeps his head up and his eyes remain on the clouds, observing as they pass by slowly. 

Something golden suddenly darts out from within a cloud, before diving back into the fluffy white as quickly as it came. Luhan’s eyebrows shoot up momentarily before scrunching downwards. Lightning? He thinks, and he unconsciously stops walking. Luhan rubs his eyes to clear his thoughts. 

Before he could even bring his hand down, a horn beeps obnoxiously at him, and Luhan almost jumps out of his skin. Hurriedly, he makes his way across the pedestrian crossing and bows slightly in apology to the driver. Luhan ducks underneath the shade of the roadside trees, where the thick leaves cover the view of the sky. It’s much cooler. Luhan keeps his head low, watching as the shadows sway in the warm breeze.

Luhan feels relieved. 







“Welcome!” 

A cheery voice greets Luhan as soon as he steps into the bookstore. Luhan nods once in greeting at the fair-skinned man and inhales deeply, sighing in contentment. It’s a smell he is familiar with. It’s the scent of wood and books and something like home. 

“Are you still hiring?” Luhan asks when he approaches the counter. The man, whose nametag reads “Kim Joonmyun”, smiles up at him. 

“We are,” he says, voice as cheery as his greeting, “Are you interested?” 

Luhan bobs his head. “I am.” 

“Great!” Joonmyun exclaims. (Luhan almost winces at how much brightness he’s emitting.) He rummages some plastic for a moment, before an “aha!” sounds. “Here.” Joonmyun straightens up and tosses Luhan an ugly black polo shirt. Luhan misses, and the shirt lands on his head. “Go change. The washroom’s at the back.” 

“What?” Luhan says incredulously as he scrambles to tug the shirt off his head. “Now?” he asks, voice a tone higher. 

“Yes. Why not? You’re hired.” Joonmyun says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Go on, chop chop.” He waves and disappears behind a shelf. 

Luhan frowns, but he totters off to the back as instructed. He stops before he steps into the tiled washroom, glancing back to see shelves upon shelves of books and pages and words. He takes a deep breath, letting the smell of books fill him again. 

Luhan supposes that it’s okay. 







“If you want your children to be smart, read them fiction.” Albert Einstein had once said, and that’s probably why Luhan’s mother always read him stories before he went to bed as a child. 

Perhaps that had worked, Luhan thinks, because he scored straight As for all of his high school examinations. But whatever the intention was, Luhan had always remembered every single story his mother had told him. Remembering was the only thing he could do. 

His favourites were always those twisted by Disney, those that told tales of loneliness disappearing and fogs clearing, those that wrote endings of brighter days and a clear road home. Disney had somehow taught him about hope and dreams, which Luhan’s mother always believed in. Luhan’s father only smiled. 

Luhan closes the door behind him, and throws his bag aside before switching on the lights. He trudges to the kitchen to rummage his fridge, and settles on fishing out some frozen lasagna. After adding on some more cheese, Luhan pops it into the microwave and watches as the cold food gets turned around in circles, sort of how a dog chases its tail, but with a purpose. (A very important purpose. Luhan his lips.) 

When the machine dings, Luhan carefully holds the heated plate and shuffles over to the dining table. Luhan shovels it into his mouth hungrily, body in need of nutrients after standing up and organising books the entire afternoon. 

As he swallows the last bite, Luhan sets down his fork, and the metal clangs against the porcelain plate. The sound reverberates in the still air of his apartment, hanging around before eventually escaping through cracks, under the doors, and to the outside world. Then it’s silent. 

Luhan curls into himself on the dark leather couch, resting his chin on his knees. He feels small.

Every man is an island, Luhan reminds himself. 







Disney’s version of the Hunchback of Notre Dame is the only version of it that Luhan has ever known. Luhan agrees that it had been one of the more unconventional plots Disney has chosen to adapt, because it did not have a happy ending. But at the same time, for the kind of story it was, it ended happily enough. 

Luhan flits around the bookstore, rearranging misplaced books and helping customers with their orders. In the past few days, Luhan has learnt to familiarise himself with the surroundings, and he has learnt how to use the ladder whilst overcoming his fear of heights. Somehow, the job becomes enjoyable after a while, because it distracts. Luhan hums a tune under his breath as he goes about his job, pausing every now and then to sing to himself dramatically as he reaches a high note. (If he’s never going to be a singer, might as well enjoy imagining it, right?)

“God help the outcasts?” 

A slightly boyish, yet deep voice cuts Luhan halfway into the chorus. Luhan whips around to see a tall man with a small face looking at him, dressed pleasantly in a clean button-up and trousers. His hair is blonde at the top, and brown at the sides. 

“Ah, yes.” Luhan replies quietly. He feels the tips of his ear heating up. Luhan resists the urge to cover them up with his hands and continues slotting books into shelves. 

The man laughs. It’s not the kind of laughter that one would deem pleasant sounding, but Luhan likes it anyway. “You have a nice voice, so don’t be embarrassed,” the man says kindly, eyes forming half-moons as his grins at Luhan. Luhan grips the books in hands tighter. 

“Thank you,” he replies bashfully. Luhan is sure that the red has spread to his cheeks.

Luhan blinks rapidly when the man matches his gaze. He feels butterflies within him. “See you around,” the man says after a moment, and he turns around. 

Luhan swears that golden glitter drifts out of the man as he walks, and each step seems to shake off an excess of gold that pools on the floor. It disappears as quickly as it comes though, so Luhan is convinced that he’s just dreaming. Or maybe just star struck.

Luhan doesn’t even know the man’s name, but he already wants to escape his island. 







Luhan brings home Notre Dame de Paris when he finds the entire novel collection sitting in the storeroom of the bookstore. 

He reads bits of it every night before he goes to sleep. The words that echo in his mind sound oddly like his mother’s melodic voice, and Luhan imagines his mother reading to him every night. He’s tucked under his soccer printed sheets and he’s clad in matching spaceship pajamas. There’s an invisible force patting at him through the duvets, and the ghost of a smile that feels like home. 

It fills him up a little, but never enough for someone already so hollow.







“Baozi!” Luhan coos when he sees Minseok the next morning. He runs and hugs the ginger-haired man. Minseok receives him with open arms.

It’s the weekend, so the streets are busier than usual. Normally, Luhan will still feel lonely in the middle of a crowd, despite being flanked by strangers and shoulders touching others. But since Minseok is with him today, the feeling dissipates a little. Luhan relaxes. 

“Brunch at our usual café?” Minseok asks when they separate from their hug, grinning. 

Luhan smiles. Minseok understands the wordless agreement. 

They walk, steps light and there’s even a little bounce. Luhan sees golden streak across the sky and passes it off as rays of light blaring into his vision. He squints and bumps his shoulder into Minseok’s to ensure he’s there. They walk more, catching up with light conversation.

Luhan’s need to escape his island starts again when they enter the café. A blond-haired man with brown sides turns to look at him when the door chimes open, and Luhan immediately stills. It’s the same man that complimented his singing. Luhan’s heart leaps when he starts to beckon them over into empty seats before him, a smile playing at his lips. 

“Do you know him?” Minseok asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Sort of,” Luhan says as he leads the way. They slide into the empty seats before the man. 

Luhan returns the happy smile the man plasters on his face. “What a pleasant coincidence,” the man says, voice riddled with life. “It’s nice to see you again.” 

“Likewise,” Luhan says softly in response, fiddling with his fingers. Minseok almost chokes on his own spit. 

Minseok looks at Luhan like he’s shot a puppy dead. “Who are you and what have you done with Luhan?” he asks in mock shock. Luhan promptly elbows him in the ribs. 

“Pardon him,” Luhan says nervously as he smiles at the man. “Minseok likes to joke around too much.”

The man merely laughs. “It’s quite alright, Luhan.” He takes a sip of his iced tea. Luhan follows his movements when he proceeds to the sweetness off his thin lips. “You have a pretty name, by the way. Oh, and I’m Sehun. It’s nice to meet you, Luhan and Minseok.” 

Luhan bites back a blush and returns the handshake. “Nice to meet you too.” The man’s touch sends tingles down his spine, goosebumps creeping up his forearm. He immediately thinks about the golden glitter back in the bookstore. Minseok grabs his hand next, but no magic happens. 

They order a meal each, along with an Americano and an iced caramel latte. Their conversation flows surprisingly well even when the food arrives and they dig in. Luhan finds himself being entranced by the way Sehun’s eyes light up when they talk about fantasy, and how Sehun talks animatedly when he is excited, but especially likes it when his eyes curl into half-moons as he laughs at something funny. It fills him.

When Luhan gets home that day, he doesn’t read. The warmth curling in his tummy is enough to make him slip into the darkness easily. 







As a child, Luhan had always wanted to be a singer. 

Ever since he laid eyes (or ears, for this case) on the school’s choir, he’s always known that was what he wanted to do. He had been fascinated by the crescendos and harmonies, and the way each voice was heard even though it was one. He had pointed his index finger at the group, turning his head to whisper to his mother, “Mama, I want to be there too!” And he did. 

Luhan ended up joining the school’s choir the next month. Singing became a part of his life since then, and Luhan went on to develop his own vibrato and he learnt how to belt on his own, experimenting when no one was around at home. Luhan built dreams that soared as high as towers and skyscrapers, with every screw and wire handled with care. Those were happier times, when ignorance was still deeply settled in little Luhan.

Luhan’s mother encouraged his dreams, supporting his towers with walls and pillars. Luhan’s father only smiled. He always only smiled.

It didn’t even reach his eyes. 







Monday rolls around. People were supposed to get Monday Blues, as they called it. But Luhan’s body somehow decides to go against the flow and start a revolution, because his tummy is filled with so many butterflies that he can hardly swallow his breakfast. Instead of feeling reluctant, though, Luhan is actually excited. It’s the first in a while. 

Luhan flips the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’ as he does every work day in the bookstore. Mornings are usually slow, with the occasional early riser popping in to check out a book or two. Luhan sorts through book orders during this time, or sweeps the floor. It’s only when the lunch crowd starts to file in that the store starts buzzing with people of all sorts. Luhan runs around the bookstore as best as he can, weaving through the people that blocks the space between shelves and picking up books that are misplaced. 

He picks up lunch after the crowd grows smaller. As Luhan enters the store again with his take out in hand, Luhan bumps into a shoulder. The contact makes him imagine glitter. 

“Hello, Luhan.” A voice comes, and Luhan doesn’t need to look up to know that it’s Sehun. 

“Oh, hi,” Luhan greets shyly, shuffling into the store.

Sehun gestures to his hand, a smile settled on his face. “Are you on lunch break?” he asks. The blonde man turns to look at his watch, before frowning. “It’s past lunch, though. It’s already two thirty.” 

“I had to be there when the lunch crowd came in.” Luhan explains, offering a small smile. “It was busy today, exceptionally so.” 

“Ah,” Sehun says in understanding. “Then would you mind if I join you now?” 

Luhan raises a brow teasingly. “Didn’t you say it was past lunch time?” 

The blonde man laughs, and Luhan’s heart flutters. “I did. But I haven’t had lunch either. I guess this is fate.” There is a grin. 

Luhan curses inwardly when the butterflies start grazing their wings on his insides. Luhan gulps down his nervousness. “Sure,” he says as normally as he can, “I’ll be in the back. Just look for me there when you’re done buying lunch.” 

Sehun nods, and he leaves with a wave and a promise of “be right back”. Luhan settles down in the backroom, fidgeting in his seat. He spends the entire time arranging and rearranging his food, and doing other mindless things like fixing his hair or reading the titles of books that lay around in the room to ease himself. It doesn’t really work, evidently, because the butterflies never stop. 

The door to the backroom clicks open after a while, and Luhan feels warmth rushing towards him. He smiles as Sehun invites himself in, closing the door behind him and flopping down onto the seat across from Luhan. 

“Hello again,” Sehun says with a grin. His eyes are half-moons. 

Luhan’s own eyes crinkle in joy. “Hey.” 

There is comfortable silence as they proceed to open their food containers, “So Sehun,” Luhan begins after the lid pops open, “what do you do?” 

“I guess you could say that I’m sort of,” Sehun pokes himself with a chopstick in thought, “just travelling around.” 

“That sounds nice. To see the world.” Luhan sighs wistfully, before taking a bite out of his noodles. 

Sehun nods. “It is, really.” He says. “What about you? What do you do?” 

Luhan swallows his food. “I’m waiting for university to start. In the meantime, I guess the only productive thing I’m doing is this.” 

“The only productive thing you’re doing is eating?” Sehun asks, voice playful. 

Luhan shoots him a glare. “No. Working at the bookstore, stupid.” 

A laugh echoes through the room, lighting up the air with sparkles of golden and Luhan feels light as he breathes it in. It’s infectious, really. Luhan grins as well. 

“I know, I know,” Sehun replies after his giggles die down, “I was just teasing, I’m sorry. Forgive me?” 

Luhan pretends to consider it, hitting his chin with his top of chopstick. “Well, all right,” He says with a dramatic sigh, “since I’m so nice and all. But only if you buy me lunch again.” 

Sehun leans forward, propping his chin on his knuckle. He looks at Luhan with a smile (that kind of looks like a smrik). “Food again? Maybe the only productive thing you do is really just eating.” 

Luhan gives him an offended look and slaps his arm in retaliation. Sehun laughs.

“Okay, okay! Lunch it is.” Sehun says as he rubs the spot Luhan had hit. 

They chat more over lunch, eyes twinkling and golden dust everywhere. Luhan feels much lighter than he has been in a long time, like the world decided to spare him a moment to actually breathe. Sehun is a bubble of air underwater; a pocket of oxygen in a dirty, polluted room. He’s like a little piece of life, sustaining in a dreary, grey world. 

The relief is regretfully short-lived. Sehun leaves a little after lunch, and Luhan feels his heart slowly edging downwards from his chest to his stomach. The excitement he had felt in the morning stays only a while more, before a sense of loss hits him and suddenly it’s gone. Luhan feels sad. 

They called it the Monday Blues, right? 







Sehun keeps his word and appears with two packets of chicken fillet the next day, and it smells absolutely heavenly. 

Luhan almost drools when the bookstore door opens, and the scent wafts inside. His heart gives a little tug when a shadow looms over the counter. Luhan looks up, and he sees golden and light and Sehun. 

“Lunch?” he offers with a smile, plopping the bags onto the counter. 

Luhan nods excitedly. “Yes, please.” 

Sehun laughs at the childish delight shown all over Luhan’s face, and the latter pouts. They head to the backroom after Luhan settles some afternoon orders. Once the packet is open, Luhan nearly inhales his food. Nearly. Bits of food fall onto the table, but Luhan can’t find it in himself to care much.

“You’re a very neat eater.” Sehun comments sarcastically, voice giggly. 

Luhan rolls his eyes and frowns. “I’m famished. I haven’t had any food since last night. This chicken fillet is practically screaming at me, and here you are, sassing me?” Luhan shoots him a puppy-dog look. “Pity me, won’t you?”

Sehun bites back laughter as he swallows a bite. “Okay, okay, sorry.” He reaches over to pat at Luhan’s head, like a mother would to a child. “There, there. Don’t be sad and eat up, okay, son?” 

Luhan pretends to look sad, lips curling into a pout. He gives a fake sniffle before bursting out into laughter, and Sehun joins along. 

Their meal is lively. Sehun sticks around longer today, staying after lunch to trail after Luhan like a lost puppy in the bookstore. Luhan doesn’t mind though, and he ends up introducing books to Sehun. He goes through fiction after fiction, discussing motifs and storylines and authors with the blonde man. Luhan finds that Sehun is surprisingly interested in fiction as well, which makes him giddy with delight. 

Lunch becomes a routine for them. Luhan works during weekdays, and Sehun is there at two in the afternoon whenever Luhan is around. They talk about everything and nothing (sometimes they cuddled too), and it feels natural. Nothing is forced. Luhan relaxes and lets the atmosphere fill him up. The bookstore becomes more homely with Sehun around. 

Somehow, Luhan finds that it’s more fulfilling than inhaling the scent of wood and pages and books. 







“Here. This is for you.” 

Sehun hands Luhan a small bottle of what looks like sand. Luhan shoots him a quizzical look. 

“Sehun-ah,” Luhan starts, his brows knitting together. “I mean, I appreciate the gift and all, but honestly, sand isn’t very romantic.” 

Sehun only laughs, the sound bright and lively. “It isn’t.” Sehun agrees. “That’s why it’s not sand.” 

Luhan peers closer at the little bottle, shaking it. He squints. “What is it, then?” 

“You’ll find out.” Sehun answers, placing his hands over Luhan’s. He closes Luhan’s hand so that he holds the glass bottle tightly. “I hope you’ll keep it, and I hope it guides you well.”

Luhan is extremely puzzled by Sehun’s words, but he places the glass bottle carefully in his bedside drawer anyway. He looks at it before he sleeps every night. 







The shrill sound of a telephone ringing cuts through the thick fog of quietness, and the sound is harsh. A pale boy shuffles over to pick it up. The sound stops. 

“Hello? Yes, Papa, I’m fine. Yes, the bookstore is fine too. Yeah, university starts in three months.” There is a pause, before, “I haven’t thought much about it.” Fingers play at the hem of a shirt. “I don’t know what I want to do.” A jaw clenches. “Yeah, okay. I’ll think about it. And don’t worry, I won’t pursue singing, it’s not realistic.” The line clicks shut, and the phone is placed back carefully. Silence lingers. It is quiet.

And then suddenly it’s noisy. Towers and skyscrapers come tumbling down, and Luhan is crushed beneath it all. He searches for a way out, but there is none. There is no light.

Luhan is lost in the debris. 

At that moment, he realises that his island has nothing left, and there’s a thick fog around it. No one can help him.







“Are you alright?” 

Sehun brings him out of his thoughts, and Luhan blinks at him. 

“What?” Luhan asks quietly. “What is it?” 

“I don’t know,” Sehun says, tilting his head to connect with Luhan’s. “You seem a little… attached, yet distant today.” 

“Ah,” is Luhan’s only reply as he wraps his hands around Sehun’s forearm, leaning his head against Sehun’s shoulders. 

They are sitting side by side in the backroom of the bookstore, with Luhan settling his weight against Sehun. He clings and clings, but he doesn’t say anything. The silence and his warmth is enough. It’s enough company. 

He clings and clings to the light. It just might lead him home. 







Luhan invites Sehun over to his apartment for a Disney movie marathon on a random weekend. 

As soon as the door clicks open, Luhan jumps onto Sehun, legs wrapping around the man’s waist. He bends down to bury his brown head happily into the crook of the blonde man’s neck, and he inhales Sehun’s scent. It’s woody and fresh. Absolutely golden. 

“Sehun-ah!” Luhan greets, tone chirpy. He nuzzles, the hairs on Sehun’s neck tickling his cheeks. 

“Hello, little one.” Luhan hears the smile in his voice, and feels Sehun hobbling forward. The door closes with a soft click. They manage to stumble onto the couch, but Sehun almost squashes Luhan in the process when he trips over the edge of it. Luhan lands below Sehun, bouncing. He giggles. 

“Get off me, you oaf,” Luhan pokes lightly on Sehun’s nose. “We need to make popcorn. It’s very important. Very, very important.” Luhan emphasises each word with harsh prodding. 

Sehun scrunches his nose up cutely, and Luhan drops his hands. “Yes, yes. Food is number one.” A smile plays on his lips, and Luhan returns it. 

They get off lazily, bodies somehow always tangled in one way or another. Luhan grabs the kernels and tosses them into a pot, while Sehun prepares the butter and caster sugar mix. They throw the ingredients in and watch as the popcorn forms, loud crackling sounds filling the kitchen and the smell of sweetness creeping around the house. It’s perfect, Luhan thinks. This is perfect. 

The first popcorn that Sehun feeds him melts into his mouth, the sugar dissolving into his saliva. It’s the right kind of sweetness, starting from the tip of his tongue before permeating right down to his toes. Luhan feels full with something he can’t quite point out or name, but he knows what it is. 

And so his body moves on its own accord. Luhan catches Sehun’s wrist in his, and he slowly brings them up to his lips. Luhan the fingertips of Sehun’s hand that are sticky with butter and sugar, the pads of his own fingers sensing every vibration that beats within Sehun. It’s erratic, Sehun’s heart beat. It’s fast and Luhan is assured. 

Luhan reaches out with his other hand and grabs at the base of Sehun’s neck, and he pulls him in slowly, softly. Luhan shuts his eyes, black filling his vision. But even underneath his eyelids, everything is still filled with Sehun. There’s light, golden light; and it’s wrapping itself around his heart, his soul.  A soft, wet mouth meets Luhan’s, and it’s sweet. When Sehun starts to nibble at his lower lip, Luhan’s toes curl into his touch. Their first kiss is just like the first taste of popcorn.

They kiss a while more, lips tangling and soon they reluctantly separate with little pecks. They grab the popcorn bowl and stagger to the couch, drunk on whatever it is that lingers in the air. 

Luhan switches on the movie player. The Hunchback of Notre Dame starts to play, followed by The Little Mermaid, and then Tangled. But neither of them pays attention to the films that tell them stories of loneliness and dreams and the light shining through in dark stormy days. They don’t pay attention to stories when reality is set the same way in front of you. Not when the light in right in front. 

And at last I see the light, and it’s like the fog has lifted.

“Who are you, Oh Sehun?” Luhan asks softly, one hand going up to cup Sehun’s cheek. The television blares in the background. “Why does everything seem so bright with you, so golden?” 

Sehun smiles, and the side of his face occasionally goes brighter and dimmer in tune with the moving pictures on screen. “What are you saying?” He places his hands over the ones on his face, catching it and placing a feather-light kiss on it. “I’m just me. And you’re just you.” Sehun’s fingers run across Luhan’s palms. “That’s why.”

They smile at each other, lips tweaked upwards. Luhan falls asleep to the steady breathing of Sehun and music, ear pressed against his chest. The fog around Luhan’s island is lifting. It’s lifting. It’s shifting—

When Luhan wakes up, all that’s left is the remnants of Sehun’s warmth on the couch. Sehun has left. Luhan tries to look around the apartment for some sort of evidence, a note maybe, or maybe a phone number. But there was none. There are only memories.

He curls up against the heat, head tucked into his knees. The silence is deafening. 

❋

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the first out of the two parts ^-^ Do comment and upvote, I'd appreciate it tons! <3