Luhan doesn’t wake to the delicious smell of breakfast permeating through the apartment, or Minseok prodding gently at him. He wakes to bright sunlight rays creeping into his room and warming his exposed face.  In the midst of his half-asleep stupor Luhan listens to the small sounds of Minseok’s movement, letting his memories of last night overwhelm him till it’s hard for him to even fake sleep with how restless he feels.

He moves slowly, the fatigue has long left his bones, yet his moves are hesitant and cautious as if he’s afraid of Minseok’s reaction once the secretary realizes he’s awake. It’s a bit funny, Luhan realizes, and also just a bit sad, that despite his extensive list of lovers, some older and far wealthier than Kim Minseok, all it took was him, a boy from District Eight, to expose all the silly little insecurities Luhan had believed he had long out grown.

Minseok’s back is facing him, and even as Luhan gets out of bed and crosses the vast expansion of his room to get to him Minseok doesn’t turn around.

“What are you doing,” Luhan asks. Minseok is positioned in front of Luhan’s rather tall bookcase, seeming almost captivated by the amount of books he owns.

“You have so many books,” Minseok says in reply, fingers tracing along the spines. He pauses at one book, a large textbook, and pulls it out of its place, quickly flipping through the pages. “Do you understand it all?”

“No,” Luhan admits, the slightest bit of shame washing over him. “Junmyeon and Yixing used to bring them to me, to help me sleep.” Minseok puts the book back and continues gazing at the book case, hands stopping once more, and this time on a book of a smaller size.

“Is this yours,” He asks, fingers slipping down the spine to reveal the unnamed book to Luhan. Luhan reaches pass Minseok and grabs the book himself. He holds the brown leather bound cover to them, right hand playing with the small loop a strap was supposed to go through to keep the book closed from prying eyes.

“No, he replies, opening the first page to reveal a date, October 15, 2174. “It was my mother’s,” he explains, eyes tracing along neatly written words in a language he couldn’t understand.

The moment Caelum was created, so was a new language, adapted from what is now considered to be ancient languages. In the past it wasn’t uncommon to hear people speak both the official language and the language of their ancestors, but with the introduction of Perfects, and the Imperfects refusal to assimilate, speaking anything but the official language became taboo. Like all Perfects, Luhan was able to learn and adapt to language well, but his mother’s language had no connection to any of the languages Caelum used, so learning it on his own was near impossible.

“Can I see,” Minseok asks, and Luhan hands over the journal he usually kept hidden from sight. As Minseok gently turns from page to page, Luhan frowns down at the book from over the older male’s shoulder. It was one of his most prized possessions, so sacred, he’d screamed at lovers that dared to touch it, and immediately broke up with those that didn’t heed his threats and attempted to read through the unfamiliar text.

“Can you read this,” Minseok asks, eyes skimming along page after page. Luhan wraps his arms around Minseok’s waist and attempts to read it over his shoulder, despite already knowing the outcome.

“No,” he says a moment later, shaking his head and then resting it on Minseok’s shoulder. He observes the way Minseok’s eyes stare unwavering down at the book in his hand, concentrating on the words in front of him.

“Do you want to know what it says,” Minseok asks next. Luhan eyes stray from staring at Minseok to glance back at the book. What had once said October, now reads March of the next year. If Luhan’s honest, he had always longed to read the words written in the journal, to learn and understand the thoughts of the woman he had never met. To finally get better insight on the woman he called mother, other than the few creased pictures he had found, and his father’s pained nostalgic tales told to a kitchen wall because he couldn’t bear to look at the boy who shared her sunny smile.

Eleven-year old Luhan, who saw that book as his only salvation after having his world turned upside down would have begged to have an understanding of who she was, instead of relying on hazy imagined images of her saying things he guessed a mother would say, when he felt alone and frightened in his new home.

Eight year old Luhan, who had just been Han then and wrote in sloppy handwriting unsent letters wondering if heaven was nice and if she missed them, because he and his dad missed her, would have loved to know about the entries.

“No,” he mumbles, looking up to catch Minseok’s eyes when he feels his gaze on him. He pulls away just as Minseok closes the book.

Twenty-three year old Luhan, doesn’t want to know her inner most thoughts. He doesn’t need a translator to tell that towards the end, are words of excitement, anticipation, and blissful ignorance at meeting her first born, her baby boy. The last entry was written two days before his birth, and Luhan was sure that even then she had no clue that the child that was supposed to bring her the utmost joy, who she had probably pledged to love unconditionally, would be the one to bring her to an early grave.

He didn’t think he could stomach reading that, and yet he still held on to it, because that was the only thing he had to remind him that he did have a mother once.

Luhan watches as Minseok places the book back in its place on the shelf and turns to face him, eyes shining with an unreadable emotion. “I’m hungry,” Minseok says a second later, a small sheepish smile on his lips.

The change in attitude catches Luhan off-guard and he’s sure he feels his eyebrows raise in mild confusion. “Do you want to go out or…” he trails off, not really sure what the change in conversation means or even if he’s saying the right thing.

“Let’s stay in,” Minseok suggests, stepping closer to Luhan, the smile more confident, and his eyes soft, the once unreadable emotion lost. “I’ll make something we both can eat.”

****

"Where did you learn to make this," Luhan finds himself asking. He had helped Minseok prepare the meal by cutting up vegetables and doing other mundane kitchen tasks and although he had no idea rather or not he'd get sick after the meal, Minseok had assured him that he would probably be fine.

"My mother is ill," Minseok says. "She can't eat certain foods either, so I figured if it's safe for her to consume it would be fine for you, no matter how weak your stomach might seem to be."

Luhan's father died over ten years ago, and Tao, the tall submissive boy, has been the first Imperfect he has been in contact with since his father's death. Luhan does know, despite his limited contact with them, that the moment an Imperfect is diagnosed with an illness it was a countdown until their death. All supposed cures and medicines for Imperfect illnesses had been lost, and Luhan knew that even if they existed, taking a family member to one of the official clinics was like signing a death certificate. In a world that wanted all Imperfects dead there were no exceptions given to anyone.

"Is that," Luhan begins, trailing off a second later, unsure of how to continue his question with tact.

"I'm surprised it took you so long to ask anything," Minseok says with an encouraging smile. "No, that’s a separate thing as well. She’s blind in that eye, but we're not sure if it's a symptom of her illness or a separate one. The people we talk to can't run the proper tests."

"I'm sorry," Luhan mutters, eyes drifting down to the food in front of him.

Minseok doesn’t reply at first, Luhan can feel his gaze, but Luhan doesn’t look up. Terrible thoughts cloud his mind. Thoughts so terrible that if ever voiced would have him arrested for treason. They had always been taught to love and respect Caelum and their Great Ruler unconditionally. It was him that had ended the warring for good, and had forged a new way of life in a rapidly changing world. Luhan had never questioned it, found no desire to, but as he grew it didn’t take much to realize that what they were taught as schoolchildren had been nothing more than pretty lies and gross exaggerations.

****

 "Tell me about your previous lovers," Minseok commands gently as he's pulled down into Luhan's side, the television set to an entertainment news channel, volume a near hum in the otherwise quiet apartment. "Any new tabloids for you."

"None," Luhan replies, pulling him closer, but holding him loose enough that Minseok can move away whenever he wants. "Apparently it'll take more than a bit of dirty dancing to get my name in the headlines again."

Minseok lips quirk just a bit as he shifts even closer to Luhan. "Tell me about your ex-lovers," he repeats.

"They're nothing compared to you," Luhan replies, he watches as Minseok rolls his eyes, and then rests his head on the secretary's shoulder almost completely pressed into him.

Minseok laughs, arms looping around Luhan's skinny frame, and Luhan grins to himself. If Minseok can stand his sudden shift into a clingy child without running away and never looking back, then Luhan doubts he'll ever be able to let the older male go. Most of his previous lovers had never gotten a chance to see such a side of him because they usually had preconceived notions on how Luhan was as a lover. Minseok was different because he wasn’t with Luhan because of superficial reasons like his looks.

"I'm sure you've said the same to all the others,” Minseok says. He's teasing Luhan and the model smiles, not feeling offended in the least.

"Nope," he replies. He wonders if talking about previous lovers is appropriate for a relationship that has only started under 24 hours ago, but he figures why not. He should get most of the important things out of the way now instead of later. He wanted Minseok to know what he was getting into, to assuage some of his worries, besides it wasn't like Luhan was about to name all the people he had slept with, if Minseok was curious about that he's sure he'd be able to create a comprehensive list from rumors alone.

"It was only ever physical and a way to keep the loneliness at bay," Luhan says. Luhan doesn’t look up as he speaks, but when Minseok doesn’t say anything he lifts his head to catch his eyes.

"Don't look so surprised," Luhan says frowning slightly. "I'm not ignorant to my fears or issues. It doesn't make me proud, but I won't lie about it." He knew why he kept a certain type of lover and he knew why they kept him. They wanted him because he was beautiful and wealthy, and he wanted them because they were easy to replace and easy to please. They weren't inspirational relationships, but they kept him occupied when work didn’t.

"That's terrible," Minseok says. He doesn't sound as if he's judging Luhan. He sounds astonished, as if he couldn't believe that Luhan would choose such a way to remedy his problems. Maybe in District Eight most people did things differently. It wouldn't be much of a surprise, the Red Light wasn't a thriving district because of the people forced to take the subway to get around.

"It is," Luhan confirms. "It is a way of life. It was my way of life."

Minseok frowns, but asks the one question Luhan had been waiting for. "Why?" Luhan thinks of Kris who buries himself in work to avoid as much human interaction as possible. He thinks of all his past lovers and how satisfied he felt from the superficial love and compliments he would receive.

"Because I'm a First Gen. Because we're defective creatures by nature." Luhan pulls away from Minseok, far enough that he can see his face without any extra strain, but close enough to still be touching.

"You’re not defective," Minseok tells him, and maybe he isn't, but he isn't perfect. Those that came after are perfect, but First Gens were their dumber, weaker, more emotional predecessors. They were nothing but glorified Imperfects, with rights and no fear of persecution as long as they chose the right side. All First Gens wished they were next Gens, wished they could control their flaws, but knew they couldn't.

"It's okay," Luhan tells him. "We don't need to talk about that. Not now." Not ever.  "You wanted to know about my ex-lovers, and now you know why it's different with you." As soon as the words leave his mouth he realizes how horrifying it sounds. Not for him, but possibly for Minseok. He didn't know how serious they were aiming to be, and the Luhan of the past would shy away from lovers that looked like they were becoming too attached, falling too deeply when all he wanted to do was mess around a bit.

As it seems Minseok isn't too horrified, and Luhan figures this out when he's lying back on the sofa, Minseok on top of him, lips against his own. It's their most intimate kiss as of yet, bodies pressed flush against each other’s and lips in a silent conversation of desire and care. Luhan doesn't know what made Minseok change his mind about them, doesn't know how serious Minseok intends to be about them, nor how long they'll last. None of those things are problems like he first thought they'd be. Things could end tomorrow, and yes, he would be heartbroken and upset, but he believes he'd also be satisfied knowing that he at least spent today cherishing what they have. Whatever it is that they have.

I'm back! Okay so I just want to say that I want to try weekly updates now that I've finished one of my other fanfics, but since it's nearly summer and I tend to be busy in the summer I can't really promise anything.