Their boss kept on sleeping. And sleeping. She never seemed to wake up for more than a few minutes at a time, and the doctors quickly concluded there was something else than a simple heart attack involved. She didn’t speak or even open her eyes at times, she just lay there. And even though they had school, the four students kept visiting her, if not for a long period each time. They closed down the coffee shop for the time being, because they didn’t know what to do when the one managing it all was away. And the days became boring. They put so much time in their work, somehow not being there made them feel weird. Suddenly they had the time to channel-surf on the tv, just sitting there. They had time to play Monopoly all the way through, which shouldn’t be possible. Minseok and Luhan even bought a PlayStation to make time pass, after Jongdae urged them to. Not that it was uncomfortable. Living together didn’t simply mean eating meals and sleeping together now. They hadn’t realized how stuffed their schedules were, until it was all gone. They had time on their hands, and they spent it together. In one way it was wonderful. In another way, it reminded them of what they missed, what they could have been doing. It wasn’t normal to worry about what was just work – a part-time job. But their stories were all knit together because of it. Where would Luhan have been today, if not Minseok had invited him on coffee? Minseok himself knew he would have been living in the prison that was his parents’ house, emotionlessly doing his homework while only saying “yes sir” or “no, madam,” to his parents every now and then. But where was it all going now?

After a couple of weeks Minseok was called up in the middle of a Sociology-lesson. Usually he would have ignored it, but the past week he hadn’t been able to concentrate and was extremely easily distracted. So when he felt the phone vibrate in his pocket, he quickly excused himself from the class and hurried out the room. Anything to take him away from that horribly boring lesson.

“Hello?” he got his phone out of the front left pocket, and answered it hurriedly. Usually he took his time, but this time the caller was Luhan. They didn’t take the same courses or even go to the same university, so they had vastly different schedules. However, this was supposed to be one of the days where their classes matched the most. Minseok knew Luhan should have been in his own lesson by now.

“Minseok, you have to hurry to the hospital,” no introductions, just a simple, rushed sentence. There was a lot of noise in the background, and he figured Luhan was on his way as well.

“What?” Minseok replied, confused. He was never called up like this, and not to mention it was Luhan.

“Just get here, fast.” Then the line was cut, and the buzzing stopped. And Minseok was left alone in the empty hallway until he got himself together and ran out, not even bothering to get his book bag from the classroom.

He met Luhan outside the entrance to the hospital. By now it had become autumn, and the orange and yellow leaves crunched under his feet as he ran over to the petite boy, wearing his usual dark green jacket and a knitted beanie. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot anxiously. Minseok felt his heart sink, but at the same time he was sure it sped up.

“Luhan!” He exclaimed as soon as he saw the younger boy. The latter turned his head instantly, his eyes open wide with a worried look in them. He didn’t say anything, but instead he walked over and gave Minseok a hug.

“Yixing gave me a text saying we had to come. She’s woken up. But… he didn’t sound happy, Minseok.”

They heard Yixing’s pleading voice even before they opened the door. “Please! Isn’t there anything you can do?!” he said, words thick with emotion. They instantly realized something was wrong. No one replied, and Minseok slowly opened the door, his hand gripping Luhan’s tightly. He needed someone to keep him calm, anchored to the ground.

“Hello,” he said silently.

In the white, sterile looking bed their boss sat, her face in unusually sad folds. Minseok was so used to see her stern and hard appearance; it seemed weird how she was now and didn’t really look like her.

Yixing turned around at their arrival, his eyes red-rimmed though no tears were seen. Jongdae sat beside him, his face expressionless. The one who had a comment or comeback for everything, was silenced, speechless.

“Hey, what is going on?” Minseok asked, though he was unsure if he really wanted to know. Something in the eyes of the three told him he didn’t.

“Come here, Minseok-ah. You too, Luhan,” their boss’ lips tugged upwards, raising her arms up to welcome them in for a hug. That was a first.

They both accepted the hug though somewhat awkwardly, before pulling back and sitting down on a chair. There was only one left, so Minseok ended up sitting on Luhan’s lap.

“It’s been such a joy to work with all of you…” she muttered, which made Minseok fur his eyebrows. His suspicions grew bigger, more realistic now. She looked up, a sincere smile filled with sadness covering her face. “I know I’ve been hard on you, but I only want the best for you, you know? You’ve been such angels. Ever since I first hired Yixing and Minseok so long ago, things have changed. Within the coffee shop, I saw the first week you came. It became warmer than I ever thought it would. This may be weird to actually hear, but I look upon you all as my children, and seeing you mature, through heartbreaks and happiness, has been a joy. So even though we part ways professionally, I hope we will be able maintain contact.” When she mentioned heartbreaks her gaze wandered to Jongdae for a second, who quickly turned away, pink tainting his cheeks. So she knew.

Minseok’s face changed into a mix of confusion, doubt, suspicion and worry. He felt a familiar feeling form in his chest; much like the one he had been constantly experiencing during Luhan’s absence in the time before they got together. Something was wrong. This wasn’t going the way he wanted it to.

Their boss saw Minseok’s confused look and patted his hand. “I’m too weak to work, I am not allowed to. We only have one choice in this case. The coffee shop is shutting down.”

No tears were dropped. Not during the rest of the visit, nor on the way home or when they got inside their safe walls. Nothing was said, and they continued doing their usual routines in a stiff way, like it was forced. And it was. It wasn’t until they were under the comfort of their blankets that words about the coffee shop where whispered.

“What are we going to do now?” Minseok’s words left his lips without a voice accompanying it. They were lying cuddled up to each other, but this time Minseok was the one curled up to Luhan, his face buried in the crook of his neck. Luhan had his arms protectively around the older, who trembled slightly, his breath snapping short. His façade was slowly crumbling now; leaving the other so composed boy completely exposed.

“We will just have to pull through, somehow.” Luhan assured him, even though he had no idea where he was supposed go with his life right now. When Minseok asked what they were going to do, he wasn’t talking about their newly cleared schedule. He didn’t talk about new jobs. He was talking about one thing, the only taboo between the two. It wasn’t easy for Luhan to find an employer who was willing to take him in – his record wasn’t all too impressing. It was because of Minseok he had managed to get a job at the coffee shop, but now even that was gone. It was like Life was playing a game on him, where he lost whatever he gained in a matter of moments. He wondered how long it would take for Life to get wicked enough to drive Minseok away. Because right now, he faced one of his biggest problems yet, the one he had been freed from for half a year. If he didn’t work he couldn’t earn money, and without money he couldn’t pay the gang back. And he would be constantly on the run again. The happening with Minseok had been an once-in-a-lifetime miracle – he didn’t except it to come again. To be honest, he didn’t want it to happen again. He had Minseok now. Even if he had to run away, his feelings for the chubby-cheeked male still burned a hole through his heart, and it would probably never cease to exist.

“Luhan? How much you still have left of your brother’s debt?” Minseok muttered against Luhan’s skin, his breath hot but vague. Their thoughts were so synchronized it was scary.

“About five million won.”

“Let me help you. Please,” Minseok begged. He couldn’t stand being so helpless, watching the situation from the outside. He thought he and Luhan was past that barrier now – everything he owned also belonged to Luhan, he had believed that for a long time already. But Luhan didn’t seem to think so, because he quickly refused.
“No, Minseok. You know I can’t do that.”

“Then what do we do?” Minseok asked desperate. Luhan brought his hands that had been wrapped around the older’s waist to the latter’s face, cupping his cheeks.

“Don’t you understand, Minseok?” he asked, a serious look in his eyes. “There is no ‘we’ in this case. No matter the outcome, I’ll deal with the consequences alone. And we both know that there is only one possible result here. I will never, and I repeat, never, get you into this. I will keep you on the sidelines, even if I have to knock you unconscious and drag you there.”

And Minseok could feel Luhan slip away already, even though he was right there, his presence the only thing that Minseok’s senses caught up on.