a/n: STILL NOT DONE!! HUHUHU I'M SORRY. SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT TOO I WROTE 3/4 OF THIS JUST TODAY OTL it's a little busy nn; I'LL POST THE FINAL PART ON 04/04 ;D

He pulls the car into a stop, grinning at the parking space he finds after going around and looking for one for about ten minutes now. He gets off, bringing his books and laptop with him and scurries towards the coffee shop across the road. The shop is packed, as usual, mostly by college students like him flocking every table for group studies. It can’t be helped, Finals is fast approaching, and everyone just can’t wait to get it over and done with, relieve the stress and kick in the start of spring break.

“Hey man! Glad to see you. I was wondering if I can borrow your notes in Finance? Just need to check on something.” A blond male with blue eyes, Mark, inquires with a pat on his back just as he passes a table he later on recognizes to be some of his friends. On another time he would have played with Mark, but he is kind of in a rush at that moment that he just hands his laptop to him and tells him to make it quick.

“Yep! Thanks Lee!” Mark calls out even if he’s already a few tables away. He can’t help but smile a little at the name his American friends chose to call him since they’re having troubles pronouncing his first name. It’s already been a year since he met them, a year they’ve been calling him with his surname (stated as Li), and yet it still amuses him whenever he is addressed like that. It feels like it isn’t him but at the same time it is. It’s like having another identity, like being somebody else.

It’s like a newer, better version of himself.

He grins as he reaches the farthest table beside the window, the spot in that café they usually sit at. His beam widens at the site of the fluffy golden brown hair, his hand automatically reaching to ruffle it despite the knowledge that Luhan hates it every time he does that.

“Ya! Hands off!” Luhan bellows, swatting his hand away. He chuckles and takes the seat before the younger guy, grabbing the brunette’s coffee to take a sip. He sticks his tongue out upon tasting the bitterness and Luhan rolls his eyes before taking his coffee back. He smiles again and props his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm as he takes a look at Luhan.

Luhan has his brows in a furrow, staring sternly at whatever he is typing in his laptop. Others would think he is busy reviewing his notes, with the stacks of books and papers all over their table, but he knew better. He bites his bottom lip, observing the way Luhan’s eyes rapidly move from left to right, his fingers swiftly hitting the keys of his laptop. He waits for the brunette to stop typing, and just as Luhan takes a hold of the mouse, he quickly grabs his laptop and turns it to his side.

“Ya! Lee Hyukjae!” Luhan snaps, his still accented Korean rolling out of his lips. Hyukjae widens his eyes at the outburst, cackling as he let the brunette have his laptop back. In the one year they’ve been together in New York, Luhan has been calling him the way their classmates do. The last time he recalls the brunette called his name is back when they’re just settling in New York, still awkward, still formal and indifferent. It’s not like he’s not used to hearing his real name—his father often makes phone calls after all—it’s just that it sounds a little strange hearing it from Luhan.

Luhan who is somehow a part of his new life, Luhan who belongs to the world he prefers.

“Woah… are you that mad that you have to call me like that?” Hyukjae asks in his perfect English, a taunting grin playing on his lips.

Luhan shoots him a glare before resuming on the typing he was doing. A few more fiddling on his keyboard and he shuts his laptop, evidently done with his work and grabs his neglected coffee. Hyukjae waits for him to breathe and relax, and when he’s sure it’ll be fine to talk to the brunette without receiving scowls in return, he leans a little closer and eyes the younger.

“So what did my father want this time?” He asks and Luhan rolls his eyes and reaches for a book, a pen, and his notes.

“You already know what he wants. He’s just making sure you’re not purposely disregarding your studies so you’ll fail your Finals and have a reason to stay.” Hyukjae snorts; his father can really be ridiculous sometimes. “Which reminds me, where’s your laptop?”

“Mark.” Hyukjae replies, eyeing the blond male’s direction just as slightly and moving his gaze back to Luhan. “I don’t see the reason why you guys are fuzzing though. Intentionally failing an exam just so I can avoid things is something a full-grown man like me won’t do. That’s immature. I’m not a coward.”

“Sure.” Luhan responds and the way his lips twitch as he highlights words on his lecture book tells Hyukjae he knows better.

“It’s just that—,” Hyukjae begins and heaves a sigh. Luhan stops scribbling and places his marker over the table, his eyes fixed on Hyukjae.

This is the thing about Luhan, he always listens. He always makes you feel that he will always be there when you need him. And Hyukjae appreciates it a lot.

“I just don’t see the point of being there. It’s just been a year. I’m not even needed in the picture, I’m—,” Hyukjae stops and drops his hands on the table, both curling into a fist.

“I’m not ready.” He whispers and as his grip tightens and his eyes burn the spot he’s looking over the table, he adds, “I’m not ready to go back yet.”

He doesn’t know he’s clasping his hands a little too hard until Luhan’s hands are on his, squeezing them gently that when he raises his gaze to meet his, he sees his soft fawn-like eyes, giving him the comfort he needs almost immediately.

Tender and sweet, that is Luhan and more.

“You’ll be fine. It’s just a weekend, Hyukjae. And don’t say you’re not needed in there, you know you are.” He says running a thumb at the back of his palm. “It’ll be alright. I got your back.”

And Hyukjae smiles because he’s right. It’ll be fine.

Because he isn’t alone this time.

//

He grabs his light blue cardigan and puts it on, feeling sweat creep at the back of his neck as he moves with the rest of the passengers descending the plane. There’s a