Next time, Luhan would tell Minseok not to leave him alone for a whole day like this. It gave him way too much time to think. It was a random date he had gone on with Sehun he was remembering now as he sat on the old couch and stared blankly at the opposite wall.

 

The bubble tea place. That's where they had went. He remembered clearly what Sehun had been wearing—a white shirt with dark gray sleeves, old jeans, a shining black watch. His hair had been chocolate brown, the same color as the drink he ordered, sure to change in the next few weeks, if not days.

 

They had taken seats across from each other at a small table in the comfortably noisy shop, sipping their drinks contently. Luhan had cracked a few jokes, earning those beautiful peals of laughter from Sehun. The younger recalled notable events from the last week, reenacting the more exciting ones and spilling some of his drink in the process. 

 

"Sehun, sit down," Luhan had laughed, rolling his eyes. "People are staring." 

 

"No, but this is the best part," Sehun had said with a rare grin. "Then, what Baekhyun did, he turned around and said, 'Hey, you, stop kicking my heels!' all tough and stuff, but it turned out it was this big guy, way taller than him, it was hilarious, the look on his face-"

 

"Who's, Baekhyun's or the guy's?"

 

"Both! Baekhyun freaked out, apologizing all over the place, I think he even said 'kkaebsong' a couple times, crazy, he is. The big guy was totally cool with it though. He had big ears," Sehun had recalled with a thoughtful look. "Really deep voice, didn't match his face at all. Said something like 'oh, no, it's fine, sorry, didn't mean to, you know, kick you.' Said his name was Chanyeol."

 

Luhan had nodded, smiling in amusement. "I'll keep an eye out for him on campus," he had said. "He sounds interesting." 

 

When the two of them left, Sehun still clutching his bubble tea, a passing customer had bumped into him, causing liquid to slosh out all over his face. Sehun had yelled indignantly, trying to wipe it off with the back of his hand.

 

"Here, let me help you," Luhan had said quickly, pulling out some napkins he had stuffed in his pocket earlier. He had proceeded to gently wipe Sehun's face clean and finished with a quick kiss on his cheek. He swore he tasted a hint of chocolate on his lips.

 

That was a good memory. Luhan smiled at the thought of it, settling deeper into the couch. His mind wandered to another time, a late summer night after a long day at the beach.

 

They had been lying side by side, content, on Luhan's bed. 

 

"Tired?" Sehun had asked quietly. 

 

"Not really," was the soft reply. "You?"

 

"Not at all." He had his side, a gleam in his eyes. "Help me out, will you?"

 

"I-oh." A smile had begun to creep onto Luhan's face. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." 

 

A few moments later, Luhan was squirming under Sehun as the younger planted kisses up and down his neck, fingers tangled in Luhan's hair.

 

From there, Luhan's memories of the night grew hazy. He remembered flashes—breathless cries, skin flush against skin, Sehun's legs wrapped around his. They had eventually settled in the sheets and, Luhan's head against Sehun's bare chest, gone to sleep, waking up in the morning with a bit of a mess to clean.

 

Nonetheless, it was a good memory. But of course, Luhan had to keep thinking. His thoughts wandered to the morning after his argument with Sehun.

 

He had been awoken by a harsh pounding at the door. He had rolled out of his bed and stumbled to answer it, trying to rub the sleep and tears from his eyes and smooth the rumpled shirt he had not bothered to change the night before at the same time. When he opened the door, he had found himself face-to-face—well, more like face-to-chest—with a tall, formidable-looking police officer. 

 

"Ah-good morning," he had stammered, tilting his head back to look at the officer's face. "How can I help y-Kris?!" He had started, recognizing the hard eyes and cool face. 

 

"You are Luhan?" Kris had asked, as if he had never seen the shorter before. "Significant other of Oh Sehun's?"

 

Luhan had become even more surprised at this. Guilt had filled him at the thought of their argument the night before. "Yeah. You know that," he had replied, a sinking feeling in the put of his stomach. "Why...?"

 

Kris had looked him over coldly, eyes flitting from his messy hair to his wrinkled clothing. "This morning," he had said slowly. "This morning, Oh Sehun was involved in a car crash."

 

Luhan's eyes had widened, his mouth dropping open. "Sehun WHAT?!" He had looked around wildly for a moment then made to move forward, to go and find his partner, to make sure he was okay—he just needed to see that face again. Kris stood like a wall in the doorway, blocking his path.

 

"It is my solemn duty to inform you that Oh Sehun has passed away."

 

Luhan's memories of what happened next were crystal clear. He had stood, frozen in shock for a few seconds, then had begun to yell, "No! You're wrong! It's not true! No!"

 

He had screamed for a while until his voice gave out. Kris still stood in the doorway, but his expression had softened. 

 

"I'm sorry," he had said quietly. There was the man Luhan knew. "I wish I was wrong. Believe me, I wish."

 

Luhan had collapsed to the floor, face buried in his hands, and began to sob hoarsely, shoulders shaking. No, he had mouthed. He can't. He can't be dead. Not Sehun. Not Sehun.

 

A few days later was the funeral. Luhan remembered all too well how still Sehun had been. No wounds had been visible, thankfully—it would have been too much for Luhan to handle. 

 

Sehun's eyes had been closed. His hair had been white, parted in the middle with a black undercut. His skin had been so pale, paler than it had ever been in life. Luhan had gotten a chance to say goodbye, but he had doubted Sehun had heard. 

 

(Now, he wasn't so sure.)

 

"I'm so sorry," he had whispered. "I love you. I'm so sorry, Sehun. I'm never going to forgive myself, you know." He had pressed his lips to his lover's cold ones briefly, then pulled back, brushing a few stay strands of hair out of those unmoving eyes. "I love you. Goodbye." A pause. "Goodnight, Oh Sehun. I love you."

 

Those three words had held so much. As soon as he had uttered them, he had inhaled sharply and turned away, tears gathering in his eyes. He had hurried back to his seat and was enveloped in a hug by a teary Tao. He had stayed there, tears flowing freely, for long moments.

 

There had been only three words that mattered to Luhan. I love you.

 

And two more.

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

Luhan woke to gentle piano notes, strung together in what sounded like the beginnings of a ballad. Only a few moments later, a voice began to sing. They were sad words, ones that struck Luhan in a way songs rarely did.

 

"Minseok?"

 

The music stopped. Footsteps sounded, then the door opened and Minseok stepped into the bedroom, looking sheepish. "Hey, Lu." He smiled crookedly and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as Luhan sat up and rested against the headboard. "Sorry I came in so early. I got some new music I wanted to try."

 

"Did you?" Luhan asked flatly. The conversation from the other day was still fresh in his mind. Something seemed different about the mood between the two of them. It was like a rift had grown or a wall had sprung up.

 

"Um... yeah." Minseok cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yesterday at the studio, there was this guy that Jongdae—I used to know. Kyungsoo, I think his name was. He said the sheet music was just sitting there. I don't know if I believe him or not, but..." He trailed off. "What...?"

 

Luhan was smiling softly. "It's a nice song," he said quietly. Checking the clock, he added, "I should get ready for work." Minseok's eyes followed him as he slid out of bed and went to the closet to change. "You should, too. You have a recital today, don't you?" 

 

"I—well, yeah, but..." Minseok could think of no excuse to stay. "Yeah, I should." He stood up, gave Luhan one more backwards glance, and left the room.

 

But for a second, a few lonely notes from the piano floated out into the air, played by hands barely solid, barely existent.

 

Minseok, halfway across the living room to the front door, turned quickly. The pages of the sheet music from yesterday fluttered, as if a breeze had passed by. He blinked and hurried over to grab the papers, then hesitantly opened the door and left. 

 

A voice followed him for just one moment.

 

 

Even in death, Jongdae's voice was amazing. Minseok bit his lip with a sad smile. Thank you, Jongdae. Thank you.