“The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection."
                                                                          ― George Orwell

Luhan stumbles out of the brothel late into morning. His clothes reek of outdated perfume and cigarette smoke. His sunglasses cover his eyes and the hood of his jacket hides the rest of his head as he lazily walks to his car which is three blocks down underneath a flickering yellow streetlamp.

The air is cold; sub-zero temperatures that make him shiver and hug himself closer despite the thick wool pea coat hanging off his skinny frame. The sleek expensive car beeps loudly in the quiet as he turns off the alarm and climbs inside. He breathes into his hands and rubs at them slightly in the dark of the car. In such a confined space, the clinging remains of the brothel’s odor suffocates him, and he prays that the stench of the Red Light District doesn’t cling to the leather of his car seats.

A boy, an Imperfect, stumbles in front of his car moments later. He watches as the stranger grips the lamppost, brown hair in his eyes, and mouth open as he breathes in deep shuddering breaths of polluted air. He read, or maybe he was told, that their air wasn’t something Imperfects could survive in. It caused archaic diseases that no one had the cure for anymore.

Luhan’s father died of one of those diseases, Bronchogenic Carcinoma is what the physicians kept saying in hushed whispers when he was eleven, and three months later his dad was dead. Years later Luhan still didn’t have a clue what the disease actually was, nor did he remember how to pronounce it to be honest.

Luhan’s not supposed to be there, he’s not supposed to be helping lost causes, especially the people that should have died years ago, so he turns his car on, watching as the boy flinches away from the unexpected light and drives off. He has a shoot for a commercial in less than five hours and he wanted to get at least a bit of sleep. He wasn’t like the younger kids; he needed at least four hours of sleep if he didn’t want to look and feel like he’d been punched in both eyes.

****

“You didn’t get any sleep,” Kyungsoo, his manager says when Luhan drags himself inside of the car.  He’s got a gel eye mask over his face to relieve the tension in his sleep deprived eyes.  Kyungsoo’s tone is disapproving as if he can already figure out what Luhan spent the night doing, but Kyungsoo didn’t have a clue.

Kyungsoo is younger than him. Twenty or Twenty-one, Luhan doesn’t remember the guy’s age and he doesn’t think it matters, Kyungsoo will always be younger than him but still in charge of him. Kyungsoo is also shorter than him by a few centimeters. Kyungsoo’s handsome though, he has wide eyes, and heart shaped lips. He could have been a model, a catalogue model maybe, but instead he chose to spend his life wearing suits and ties even in the sweltering heat of summer.

“It’s been hard to sleep for years,” Luhan reminds him, readjusting his seat so that the bright light of the sun wasn’t shining in his eyes.

“That’s why you’ve got the pills,” Kyungsoo states. “One pill a night and you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t like these pills,” Luhan says. “They don’t take things away, or replace em, they just make it hard to wake yourself up. You don’t know what it feels like to be trapped in your dreams, in your memories.”

“Everyone’s trapped in their dreams Luhan,” Kyungsoo states softly.

“Unless they die,” Luhan states, “I read that somewhere, normal people wake up before they die.”

“If you don’t wake then what happens,” Kyungsoo asks. “Where do you go if you die in your dreams?”

“Where do you go when you die in your dreams,” Luhan asks back.

“I–I don’t…I don’t remember my dreams.”

“Sometimes I just face darkness,” Luhan mutters. He doesn’t want to continue the conversation, he hadn’t even wanted to bring up his sleeping problems, he just needed an excuse and he doubts telling his manager that he spent most of his night in the Red Light District would be okay.

“I need to pick up Sehun and Kai for the shoot,” Kyungsoo tells him. “After the shoot you need to go to the company. President Kim said he needs to meet you.”

“You don’t know what for do you,” Luhan asks, repressing the sigh on his lips.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Kyungsoo tells him. “It’s probably work-related though. President Kim rarely goes to me when he wants to talk to you about personal matters.”

Sehun and Kai live together in District Four where most of the college students and young adults lived.  The fourth district was surrounded by the most famous clubs and bars, but it didn’t hold the glitz and glam of District Two or Three, of Caelum’s capital city.

Sehun is the youngest but he’s also the tallest, he’s pale as if his skin had never seen sun or light in all his years. Luhan liked him the most out of the two because he had clung to Luhan upon first meeting him. Kai’s only a few months older than Sehun and he’s originally from east of the Capital. He was the opposite of Sehun from skin that had obviously kissed the sun to a quietness that made him shy whenever he wasn’t in front of the camera.

The three of them, Luhan, Kai and Sehun were on the same team, a modeling team that had been formed upon coincidence after coincidence. Luhan finishes early and Kyungsoo drives him all the way to District One for his meeting with the Company’s president.

“Do you need me to come get you afterwards,” Kyungsoo asks, before Luhan climbs out of the car.

“It’s okay Manager,” Luhan huffs, eyes straying to the gray building. Nessen’s Entertainment Agency was the biggest talent company in the city, and the second largest building in the capital. Rumor had it that the Great Ruler had spent a good amount of money on the company after the Great War. Caelum’s top models, actors, and singers all came from the company and faced instant fame the moment they debuted.

The building wasn’t too different from the rest on the outside. It was the second tallest in District One, but it was still gray with tall windows that no one could see into. Luhan slowly walks into the building, there’s no use stalling, he’ll have to meet the President either way, and if he doesn’t go now then he’ll be getting a personal visit to his apartment.

President Kim is a powerful man, he’s got greying hair and deep wrinkles from the constant frowns and angry expressions he subjected his face to on a daily basis. Luhan’s known President Kim for over half his life and he’d never seen him smile. The fifty-five year old was strictly business, and appearance. All he cared about were how things could benefit him in the end. When Luhan gets to the top floor of the company, he expects to see the tiny blonde woman that the president appointed as his secretary.

Instead he sees a man–a boy–that looks fresh out of high school or maybe at least still in college. He’s got pretty eyes, and full cheeks that remind Luhan of babies. The boy, man, is sitting at the blonde secretary’s desk, teeth harshly biting at his bottom lip as he concentrates on something on the computer.

Luhan approaches, steps heavy as his boots weigh him down, and he knows the boy’s aware of his presence even if he hasn’t said anything yet.

“I’m here to see President Kim,” Luhan announces. His fingers rest on the edge of the desk as he looks pass the papers, the black telephone, and cup full of pens to find a name. He’s searching for a clue to who this person in front of him is and he’s got nothing. Luhan will have to make sure to tell President Kim it won’t hurt to invest in nameplates for the secretaries. When he thinks about it he didn’t know the blonde girl’s name either.

The boy looks up to him, eyes flashing with momentary recognition as he grabs at the black phone, fingers pressing the button that connects him with President Kim’s office. He hears the boy’s voice, shaky, soft, and even a bit boyish.

“President Kim said to go right in Mr. Luhan,” the boy tells him, smiling in his direction. Luhan doesn’t. He grins a bit, happy the boy knows who he is, and even happier with the way his name sounds leaving those soft-looking pink lips.

“What’s your name,” Luhan asks. The boy blinks owlish, and Luhan grins, his harmless boy next door grin, and tries to appear innocently interested.

“Kim Minseok,” the boy answers, and Luhan smiles a bit broader.

“Nice to meet you Kim Minseok,” Luhan greets.  He leaves then. President Kim doesn’t like to be kept waiting and Luhan has gotten what he wanted for now.

So many of you seem to be anticipating this so I hope that you'll like it and that it'll live up to your expectations.