Luhan lets the day burn around him as he thinks over and over about what to do with the two younger models. He has no real relation to either of them, if he’s honest he probably shouldn’t care, but over the few years they’d been together Luhan had truly grown fond of both boys, and knew it was impossible for him to just ignore things.

It isn’t until darkness settles in the sky and he’s done mindlessly staring at the television that Luhan decides he needs a break from his cycling thoughts of Kai and Sehun. After a very quick drive and a message sent to Minseok, Luhan finds himself in Nessen's multi-level parking deck, waiting for the secretary to finish work. However, the change of scenery doesn’t stop his thoughts from going back to Sehun and Kai once more. He can't talk about it to a soul and it annoys him.

It's not that he wants to gossip, he finds no need to tell others just because he can’t keep a secret. He wants to see if there's still a chance to protect them, if there’s a loophole that can protect them if the authorities get involved. He's heard that occasionally when caught helping Imperfects, Perfects will put all the blame on the Imperfect and it could lead to a period of time where they're under a surveillance like rehabilitation, until they were able to become free citizens once more.

Yet Luhan knew that Sehun wasn’t the type, as foolish as he was, Sehun would go down with Tao before he forced all the blame onto the Imperfect. A knock against the glass of his car window breaks him out of his thoughts and he turns to find Minseok peering into the car.

"What's wrong," Minseok asks when Luhan unlocks the door and lets him inside.

"Nothing," Luhan mutters starting his car.

"Nothing," Minseok repeats with a questioning tone. "Why are you here then, where are we going?"

“I was in the area and I figured I’d drive you home,” Luhan explains. “Have you eaten? Should I stop somewhere?” He peers gingerly at Minseok before driving in the direction of the parking deck’s exit.

“Are you sure you’re okay,” Minseok presses, the secretary’s eyes shining bright with concern. “Something seems off.”

“I’m fine,” Luhan replies, drawing emphasis on the statement. “My day was a bit crazy, but I’m fine. Should I stop?”

“Don’t,” Minseok replies. “The traffic is terrible around this time. The longer we wait, the longer it’ll take to get me home.”

“You’re supposed to make me not want to stop,” Luhan teases.

The air is tense with them, and the usual light and flirty banter that they tended to engage in sounds forced whenever they try. Luhan’s not sure if it’s completely his fault or if their slight uncomfortableness is a result of their night and morning together.

The traffic is terrible on both sides of the freeway. There are people driving towards the commercial districts for another night of fun and partying, and there are people driving towards the more residential districts to return from work. Cars are going well below the speed limit as they inch onward towards their destinations.

“Did you enjoy the party last night,” Luhan asks when the pop song on the radio ends and the DJ begins speaking.

“It was interesting,” Minseok compliments, a smile gracing his lips as he recalls Luhan’s party. “Your friend, Yixing, was a very interesting drunk. I expected people with so much power to be a lot scarier.”

“The only scary one is Kris,” Luhan says, “and even then he’s utterly soft inside.”

“And you,” Minseok says.

“What about me,” Luhan asks, quickly glancing towards Minseok, his eyes raised in question. “Do people think I’m scary?”

“Some do,” Minseok admits, “Some think you’re arrogant, some think you’re stupid. Lots of people have very contrasting views of you.”

“Have you heard any good things about me,” Luhan asks, he knows his reputation precedes him, he’d seen the looks many people have given him, and the fact that he usually kept to himself was doing nothing to help his damaged reputation. He’d never cared about his reputation and despite the fact that Minseok seemed to indulge in the rumors, Minseok didn’t seem all too bothered about the falsified tales.

“From Nessen’s workers I was told you’re very good looking in person. Jongin is the only other person that has spoken highly of you to me,” Minseok explains.

Luhan frowns lightly at that confession, his hand gripping the steering wheel harder. “Does he,” he asks, voice softer than he intended it to be.

“Yeah,” Minseok says nodding, “he respects you a lot. Sehun does as well, but he’s a bit more reserved when it comes to talking about you. I think he might have a crush.”

Luhan snorts a little, and a bittersweet smile graces his lips at Minseok’s words, his thoughts wandering away from him once more as he begins to think about Sehun and Kai’s current dilemma.

Once they cross the river the traffic dies down, and Luhan exits the freeway in District Seven.

“Where in District Eight do you live?”

“Close to the river,” Minseok says, “but at the very end of the District. I live practically on the border of District Nine and Eight.”

****

Minseok’s house is a pale chipping blue in the dim light of the streetlamps. It’s one of four lonely houses on the street and across from it sits a large empty park. District Eight seems barren and neglected at night. There is an emptiness to the area and with its slightly crumbled streets, tree roots sticking out of broken sidewalks, and busted streetlamps, it looks abandoned.

Beside Luhan, Minseok fidgets in his seat. Luhans turns his attention from the empty streets in front of him to the boy beside him. “I like you,” he says, attempting to start up the conversation he had been meaning to have since President Kim barged into his apartment.

Minseok freezes and Luhan frowns at the action, watching as Minseok turns towards him with wide confused eyes.

"I find you interesting," Luhan compliments slowly, gaze intense as he stares at Minseok, observing his every movement. "You're cute, you're funny, and I like talking to you."

"You aren’t trying to confess to me are you," Minseok asks. “You mean in a friendly way right? You like me as a friend?”

“What if I meant in a lovers type of way,” Luhan asks. “I don’t kiss many of my friends.”

“I’d reject you,” Minseok says. "I'm not able to love you in the way you're used to. We don't fall in love like you do, we have a lot more to lose." Luhan’s a bit confused by Minseok’s use of the word we, but he figures that he’s talking about the people who live in District Eight.

"Well it's a good thing I'm not asking you to love me," Luhan says, laughing a bit forcefully. Even though he wasn’t trying to confess his love, the fact that he was still rejected did hurt a bit. "I find you interesting in a way, that's different then when I'm in a relationship with a person. You're not exactly my type Kim Minseok."

"Yet you still want to kiss me," Minseok points out.

"Only occasionally," Luhan replies. "Can we be friends?"

"What kind of friends," Minseok asks. "The kind that kisses occasionally, the kind that doesn't kiss at all, or the kind that kisses often?"

Luhan laughs at the question and faces Minseok, "I wasn't aware that there were so many options for friends."

"I find you fascinating," Minseok admits, "and you're a pretty good kisser, but..."

"But," Luhan presses quirking his eyebrows.

"You're from Two and I'm from Eight. This is where I live, my father works in a factory not too far from here. Any type of relationship between us, friends or lovers, will just wear into frustration once we get passed this whole shiny new interest stage."

"You don't want to be friends," Luhan asks.

"I didn't say that," Minseok says sharply, turning to frown at Luhan, “I’m just warning you now that I’ll be different than your other friends.”

“We were already heading down a somewhat different route than normal friends,” Luhan says. “Things kind of amplified when I kissed you.”

"Drunkenly kissed me," Minseok clarifies, "and I not so soberly kissed back. Sometimes friends kiss. Look if you want to call me your friend that's fine, I already refer to you in the same way. I'm just telling you now so you won’t be surprised, that even though you see me differently than your former lovers, our friendship can end up being just as fleeting."

"Why does that matter if we're friends now," Luhan asks. "The future is uncertain, we shouldn't worry ourselves over it."

"Such a District Two mindset," Minseok mutters a small smile making its way to his lips. "We've been sitting outside a while now, I should probably go in."

"Wait," Luhan says before Minseok can make a move. "I've been wondering this since earlier today. What exactly is your relationship with President Kim?"

"I'm his secretary," Minseok replies, simply.

"Is that all," Luhan asks. "It seemed strange."

"Doesn't your relationship with President Kim also fall into that category? None of the other celebrities spend as much time in his office. No other has received as many restrictions as you do, or personal talks."

"His company is renowned because of models, he's stricter with us than others."

"Oh," Minseok mutters, eyebrows drawing together and head cocking slightly. "Is that so?" He doesn't sound as if he believes Luhan and Luhan doesn't blame him, only an idiot would believe that, especially if they worked within the company. Minseok was President Kim's right hand at the moment, he saw all, heard all, but knew very little. Luhan didn't want to know what Minseok thought his relationship with President Kim was.

“It is,” Luhan answers.

Minseok nods casting his eyes away from Luhan to look at his home. “I’ll return your suit once I wash it.” Luhan looks then at the gunmetal grey suit and frowns. The tension is there again, feeling like velvety hands pressed to his throat, making it hard to breathe or even say a word.

He nods, and Minseok bids him goodbye, exiting the car. He sits there for a minute, watching as Minseok walks up to his house and disappears into the brightly lit inside and then focuses back on the barren streets of District Eight. He wasn’t particularly disappointed, Minseok had seemed pretty difficult to woo from the very beginning, and if he had to prove that he was a good and decent friend so be it.

Kissing Minseok had helped Luhan realize that his feelings ran a bit deeper than just friends, but he was used to a certain type of lover, and Minseok wasn’t that. It had felt odd to be rejected with his hypothetical confession, but there were parts of him that felt relieved. There were things he didn’t know about Minseok, things he couldn’t understand. Minseok would be an unpredictable lover, and even though Luhan was intrigued by that prospect, he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle such a thing.

Despite dropping Minseok off, Luhan doesn’t leave District Eight, he drives around for a bit, until he comes across familiar streets, streets he hadn’t been down in years, which ignites a stifling feeling of nostalgia. There’s an elementary school, the red brick two-story building blocking out the moon and seeming even more intimidating then Luhan remembers.

Luhan drives pass it, fragmented memories of walks from school to home filtering through his mind, as well as his classmates. There were 20 other kids in Luhan’s grade when he was 10, maybe one of them had been Minseok.

The house he stops in front of ten minutes later is vastly different than Minseok’s home with slightly chipped paint. District Eight houses weren’t built to last long especially without proper care. The tall spiraling buildings in the richer districts would last for decades even if abandoned, but the homes in the poorer districts would start to fall apart without maintenance.

The house in front of him is a mixture of chipped white paint, and dark grey. The lawn which used to be a beautiful earthy green and vast with tons of pretty wildflowers, looks just as empty and abandoned as the house. It’s a dull dead brown, the few bushes are bare of leaves like dried bones with no skin.

 Luhan turns his car off and gets off, letting himself be hugged by the cold of the night. The gate of the house has been broken, and the path to the steps is uneven now. Luhan does his best to climb the three cracked and split steps without tripping and falling. One window is empty, the glass is gone, and the other, poorly boarded up with a hanging yellow wood covering.

The house is easy to get into which isn’t surprising. It’ll be like that for a while until the city can get back to boarding it up. Homes like this were perfect hideaways for the Red Devils, fugitives, and other types of homeless people, needing to cover from the cold and the public’s eye. It upsets him to imagine unknown strangers, walking through the rooms, looking at things, they weren’t supposed to. Were the photo albums still in the Master bedroom? Under a loose floorboard was a tin box filled with letters. Had that been found?

The inside of the house is shrouded in utter darkness, no light enters in since there are barely any lights outside as well. It’s chilling and seems empty and spacious, but if Luhan closes his eyes he can see all the furniture in its proper place, and the lights and colors. If he tries hard he can feel that carefree and happy feeling of his childhood, can see the younger him running into the house after school, and telling his father of his day, silly little nonsense tales that his father paid full attention to. He can still smell the unwavering stench of cigarettes that lingered in the kitchen, and carried through the rooms when his father lit a new one.

He lingers at the threshold, unsure of if he should move deeper inside, maybe look for the box of letters, or the photo albums. He decides a moment later to leave, and he steps back and heads down the broken steps. There was no point in looking for things of that sort, no point in finding things of the past. Nothing would change, Luhan wouldn’t get his father back, or his easy unknowing childhood.

When he’s back in the familiar warmth of his car he gives one last look to the house, and a new memory slips into the forefront of his cognizance. A memory of a young Luhan dressed in black, brown leather-bound book pressed to his chest and suitcase beside him as he waited for the new father he’d have, the Perfect one, that wouldn’t suddenly abandon him.

With a shaky breath he closes his eyes and tries to do away all with his thoughts and emotions. There was no time to take a trip down memory lane or feel sorry for himself. He had more pressing things to deal with at the moment, and if he got wrapped up in those thoughts and feelings, it would be hard for him to escape them.