Luhan runs a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair. He leans back against the plush seats of his couch watching the shadows dance across the room as the sun climbs above the distant horizon into the early morning sky. He launches forward at the first chimes of Caelum’s national anthem, fingers running along his temples, soothing the migraine he can feel coming. For the past three days, the national anthem sounded off at the first rays of sunlight over District One. It was one of the newer changes brought on by Junmyeon’s death, the other being a curfew that stretches from the poorer parts of Seven to the Red Light. The many brothels in the Red Light have not been affected, nor have the seedy love motels, but from  9:30 pm to 6 am, not a soul was allowed out in those areas.

Luhan just makes out the soft creaking of a door over the bell-like voices singing the anthem and lifts his head, turning to watch as Minseok makes his way towards him.

"Did you get any sleep," Minseok asks him, his voice rough from sleep but loud enough to be heard over the soprano singers.

"No," Luhan replies, and he finds himself tempted once more to lean back against the plush seats. His fatigue limbs urging him to find some comfort to rest.

"I'll be fine," he adds when he notices the look on Minseok's face. "It's just a memorial, I just have to sit there." Minseok nods his head and takes a seat beside him. They don’t speak at first, even as the song comes to a close. Minseok sits with his eyes focused straight ahead, lost in thought. Luhan’s lost in his own muddled mind, letting thought after thought come and go as the lack of sleep deprives him of his concentration.

“Did they ever tell you,” Luhan asks suddenly, turning to face Minseok.

“Did who ever tell me what?”

“Did Yixing or Junmyeon ever tell you about your sister?”

Minseok shakes his head in response, removing his gaze from the nothingness in front of him to look at Luhan. “I wasn’t aware they knew anything about her.”

“They looked into you,” Luhan states. “That’s what they do when they think someone’s suspicious since they have the resources. Your parents are still registered as her biological parents.” It reminds Luhan of the conversation he’d had with Kyungsoo. Although he’d decided to let go of his anger, it still stung to be reminded of the distrust his friends seemed to have had.

“Is she happy,” Minseok asks.

“She lives in District Five, near Kai’s family home. She’s just graduated and wants to become a plastic surgeon at the Healing Center. She sounds happy.”

Those were things Luhan had used his own power to find out. The weight of being approved by Great Ruler gaining him the ability to interview teachers about the private lives of their former students.

“That’s good,” Minseok states, leaning back in his seat and facing forward again. “She wouldn’t have been. If they’d allowed my parents to keep her she would have been miserable. She would have been restricted to curfews and illness. She would have had men taking advantage of her because she’s not even a human being to them let alone protected by the laws.”

There’s a wrinkle in between his brows, his lips are turned down as he thinks and Luhan moves closer to him, curious and doing his best to be a supportive and grounding force to the man beside him.

“When,” Minseok starts off, choking on the word as if fighting to say his thoughts. “When my mother got sick – sicker. When I was fourteen and she’d gotten sicker I came across her in that room, crying on the floor. She was a hysterical mess and kept apologizing to me, saying how much she wished that she would have allowed them to take me away as well.”

Luhan wraps his arm around Minseok’s shoulders, fingertips running along the exposed skin of his arm in an attempt at comfort. MInseok leans into him, allowing himself to be embraced as he breathes in a deep shaky breath. “She thought that her selfishness caused me to live an unhappy life as an Imperfect and regretted it.”

“I’m sorry,” Luhan mummers low, pulling Minseok even closer to him.

“Don’t be. I’ve always been curious about her life. I’m just glad to know she’s well.”

****

Luhan lets a long deep huff of annoyance slip from his lips. The skinny tie around his neck is quickly undone and dragged away. There’s not a rigid dress code, he doesn’t need the tie, but it does make a small distinction between the hedonistic model the tabloids love and the executive businessman he’s expected to be.

The tie slips from his fingers, hitting the bedroom floor as he crosses the room to take a seat on his bed. He just shouldn’t go. He couldn’t even get the tie right. Every time he tried to put one on it would be too tight, too confining, or look wrong. He probably wouldn’t even be able to convince Yixing to go. It was a farce of an event anyway. Junmyeon wouldn’t be upset. He wouldn’t have approved anyway.

“Luhan,” he hears and raises his head in question. Minseok stands in the doorway, eyes bright and teeth clamped down onto his bottom lip. The pair of them had been walking on eggshells since even before their talk that morning. Luhan had hoped, had believed, that with Minseok’s confession, and subsequent agreement to move back in with him, that things would be easier. He’d been naïve. He hadn't assumed that they would return to exactly like how they had once been, yet he hadn't thought that they'd be what they are now.

Minseok is always there, but always so hesitant. Gone are the days of his confidence and carefree personality, in its place stands the silent and cautious Minseok, that wears his insecurities like a badge. Now, he treats Luhan as if he expects the former model to change his mind and send him away, and although Luhan tells himself that it’s the guilt of lying that has made him like this, it feels like he’s not being trusted.

Luhan was beginning to lose his mind. He had begun taking his Perfect pills again, but they were weaker now that his body was starting to build a tolerance. One pill would typically get him through the day, but he'd return home as it begun to wane away and his emotions grew stronger and be faced with a careful and jumpy Minseok, making him want to scream.

"I'll do it for you," he says, stepping into the room. He watches as Minseok bends over to pick up the fallen tie, and stands as the Imperfect walks towards him.

"I wish you were able to attend," He says.

"I don't think that would be appropriate," Minseok says in reply, a humorless smile on his face.

"He hadn't cared, you know," Luhan reminds him, affection whirling in his gut as he watches Minseok’s face while the male before him loops the tie into a perfect knot.

"I know," Minseok agrees, "I’m still a representation of what killed him, and President Kim knows that." He grins then, pushing the knot up until it’s in its proper place, hands smoothing down Luhan’s shirt.

“I want to go with you,” Luhan whispers. The easy expression slips from Minseok’s lips as he frowns, eyes wild as he searches Luhan’s face in bewilderment.

“What,” he gasps out, fingers pulling away from the tie in haste.

"I can't hide you away here," Luhan states slowly, "I know that, but maybe – instead–I could go with you." He finds himself grasping Minseok’s hands in what almost feels like a desperate plea.

"Luhan," Minseok starts, his eyes flitting about to avoid Luhan’s inquisitive gaze. "Let's not do this now."

"Minseok," he says, pressing forward. "I-"

"You have a funeral you need to go to," Minseok says interrupting. He pulls his hands out of Luhan's grasp and takes a few steps back. "You need to be there for Yixing, you have to get him and... Please... this talk–it can happen later." He looks up at Luhan then, eyes wide and shining bright with what looks like fear to Luhan. "I have to go too," he adds quickly tearing his gaze away. "I still have to work." He steps out of the room before Luhan can get another word in.

****

Luhan had never visited the place Junmyeon and Yixing stayed at before the incident. However, Yixing’s current hotel is situated in District Three. The tall skyscraper seems to reach as high as the clouds, with crystal glass windows covering every inch of the sleek tower’s exterior. The carpet inside is a rich red, and so plush Luhan can feel the softness through his stiff dress shoes. It is the complete opposite of what Junmyeon and Yixing tended to go for, and Luhan figures the difference was one of the deciding factors in getting Yixing a room.

Yixing's on the fifteenth floor, room number 1508. Kris had given him the stiff keycard the night before when Luhan had agreed to be the one to bring Yixing to the memorial. He pauses once he’s in front of the door to the room, going over what he’d say to get Yixing to come along with him.

Clothes litter the floor of the suite. Half-eaten food sits outside of the bedroom on a glass coffee table in the sectioned-off living area. Yixing sits in the middle of a large white bed, the pillows tossed haphazardly around the bedroom, the sheets slipping off and pooling around the bed. There’s is a gray tablet in his hand, and a sleek black laptop before him. Yixing’s pale, he looks less like the ghost he’d been when Luhan had retrieved him, but he still has a sickly pallor to him that makes the purplish bruises underneath his eyes stick out. His chapped lips are wrapped around a thin purple stylus pen as he works.

"You need to get dressed," Luhan states slowly, stepping deeper into the room. He leans back against the dresser in front of the bed, arms crossed over his chest.

Yixing looks up, eyes clear and attentive as his gaze quickly flicks over Luhan before returning to the laptop in front of him. “I’m not going,” He says, as he removes the stylus from his mouth. His voice comes out hoarse and he coughs after.

It makes Luhan wonder when was the last time he’d spoken. He knew that Kris and Kyungsoo were taking turns watching him, but that didn’t mean they were holding conversations. Yixing and Junmyeon were always the most sociable compared to the group of them.

"Yes," Luhan says, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he frowns at Yixing, "you are."

"No," Yixing says in the same tone Luhan uses, not looking up, “I have more important things to do.”

“What could be more important than being there for your partner,” Luhan asks. He spits the sentence out with raised eyebrows as if he’s trying to remind Yixing in what ways that term implied to Junmyeon and his relationship

“Work,” Yixing answers. “Keeping the world safe from rebels and terroristic acts, you know, the usual. Besides, what’s the point.”

“What’s the point,” Luhan repeats. “This is a memorial service, Yixing. We’re there to commemorate Junmyeon’s life and work.”

Yixing drops the tablet and brings his gaze back up to Luhan’s. “You know that’s not true,” he states simply.

“Yixing,” he starts, slowly.

“I do not want to go, Luhan,” Yixing says cutting him off. “It’ll be an even more outrageous spectacle than the Sovereignty parade and I don’t understand why I need to be subjected to that,” he spits the word out with disdain.

“For Junmyeon,” Luhan replies. “Do it for Junmyeon.”

“I stopped doing things for him when he decided to die,” Yixing retorts. He picks up the tablet again, fingers tapping loudly against the glass screen to fill the silence.

“Yixing, you’re in mourning,” Luhan relays, stepping closer to the younger male. “We all are. You witnessed it you’re allowed to–”

Yixing chuckles, his incessant tapping has stopped, but his eyes are still drawn to the screen of the tablet. “Why would I be in mourning,” he asks. “Why would I mourn someone who chose to die?”

Luhan closes the laptop, moving it away from Yixing, and wrestles the tablet away as he takes a seat in front of his friend. “You need to tell me what you mean,” he demands, fighting to capture Yixing’s gaze. “The woman at the Institution said he was murdered by Rebels. Why would you say he chose to die?”

Yixing doesn’t reply at first, his eyes are still focused downward, staring at the bedsheets, and avoiding Luhan’s own at all costs. Luhan loses his patience, he grips the sides of Yixing’s face between his hands and forces the other male to look at him. “Why would you say that,” he asks again.

“He was aiming for me,” Yixing finally says. His tone has lost all the fiery passion it’d contained before, while his eyes have dulled to same emptiness they had once been. “The rebel was aiming at me. He defied protocol and saved me, and now he’s dead. He wasn’t supposed to save me, Luhan. You’re only supposed to save superiors or those with critical information. You’re supposed to watch your partner’s back not die for them. He wasn’t supposed to die, but he did like a freaking idiot, and I refuse to go to that thing. I won’t stand there and watch as they honor him for doing something so stupid. He’s not a hero, Lu, he’s just dead and going there won’t bring him back.”

Luhan’s quiet. He’d long since released Yixing from his grip, and now he stares at the messy hair of the man before him doing his best to process the information he’d hadn’t expected to hear.

“Would you have let Junmyeon die if you saw someone aiming a gun at him,” Luhan asks.

“Yes,” Yixing croaks out. “It’s what I’m supposed to do. If we were outnumbered and I couldn’t save him without killing myself then yes. Neither of our lives is more important than the other’s. Neither of us possessed classified information.”

‘Liar,” Luhan retorts. “You’ve always said and done the opposite of what you’ve felt, ever since we were kids. You said you and Junmyeon were just having fun and you couldn’t be in a monogamous relationship because you loved people too much, but that was a lie, you loved Junmyeon and you hated how that made you feel. You said you weren’t jealous of Kyungsoo when even a toddler could see you hated the bond he had with Junmyeon for years. You say you’d have let him die but I don’t believe you.”

“I would have,” Yixing retorts, glaring at Luhan. “Protocol is protocol.”

“If you would have, then we’d still be here, wouldn’t we,” Luhan asks. “You’ve never stuck fully to protocol when you didn’t want to, I know that. If they had aimed at Junmyeon and you’d just let it happen, then I would be here listening to you try and fail to use that type of reasoning to ease your guilt. If Junmyeon had just let you die I’d still be here, only I’d be consoling Junmyeon through his guilt at following protocol.”

“I don’t want to go,” Yixing mutters, the hostility gone from him.

“Neither do I,” Luhan admits, “but we owe it to him as his friends. They’re going to use him and his work to support ideologies he would have never agreed with. We’ll be the few people that knew Junmyeon and what he really believed in, and I don’t think it’s right to skip out on that. Besides, I’d rather hear it first hand, then hear years down the line that our Junmyeon’s image has been morphed into the image of an Imperfect Genocide endorser."

Yixing doesn’t say anything, but Luhan figures that since he’s not putting up a fight he might have convinced the younger male. He stands then, hands stretching above his head as he looks down at his friend. “Go take a shower Yixing, you stink, and if I have to wash you again, I will.”

“Yixing glares up at him but stands. He hesitates for a moment, his eyes staring past Luhan as he thinks. He bites down on his chapped and bleeding lips and Luhan tries not to flinch at the sight.

"I miss him," Yixing whispers.

"I wouldn't be friends with someone that didn't miss their lover," Luhan says. "There's nothing wrong with it. It doesn't make you any less a Perfect for having those feelings, if he hadn't saved you, then he would be here instead, saying the same thing. Having someone important die isn't easy, but because we're Perfects we can deal with it better. You'll learn to deal with it better." Yixing nods his head in understanding and pulls Luhan into a hug.

"Thank you," he tells him, "I think I needed you the most."

"I'm sorry I never came earlier," Luhan says.

Yixing pulls away from him, and finally heads off to the bathroom.

With Yixing gone Luhan takes a seat back on the messy bed. He runs a hand over his face and lets out a deep sigh as the tension holding his shoulders tight and stiff finally releases him. For a while, Luhan just sits there. He thinks about his day so far, and what he expects to face with later on and nearly groans in exasperation throwing himself back against the bed. He just lays there for a bit, allowing himself to relax against the plush mattress and soft sheets.

Only when the time has passed and he’s sure Yixing’s about to come out does he finally stand up. He takes another glance around the bedroom, happy he’d put in the request to have it cleaned, and picks ou the sleek gray tablet, skinny laptop, and brown book on the bed. The purple stylus is missing, lost somewhere among the many sheets. He takes the items over to the desk on the far side of the room. It’s already piled high with things, and Luhan has to shuffle things about to make room.

Something manages to fall as he finally makes space, and Luhan heaves an annoyed sigh as he places the items down, and squats down to pick up the fallen object, hoping it hasn’t broken. The dropped object is a mini external hard drive, and with a quick once over Luhan deduces that it’s fine. He goes to stand when he notices a sheet of paper further back behind the desk. He goes on his knees, fingers reaching out to retrieve it from his place wedged between the wall and the desk.

It’s a picture, Luhan gathers from the glossy texture as he stands. He places the hard drive down and turns the picture over expecting to see an old picture of Junmyeon and Yixing. It’s not. Instead of the smiling faces of his friends looking back at him in the dog-eared picture before him, there are three grinning men.

On the left, a grim-looking man with auburn hair and arms crossed in front of his chest stares with narrowed eyes at the camera. On the right stands a man Luhan had seen quite a few times in his life. His dark hair is falling into his eyes, on his cheek, there’s the scar he’d obtained during the war. He’s grinning, eyes twinkling with amusement and crows-feet wrinkles prominent as he leans in towards the man in the middle. Luhan called him uncle as a child. In the middle, eyes crinkled in happiness, the shadow of facial hair apparent in the lighting, stands the most familiar of the three. He’s missing the weathered look of a man that lived years watching the people around him die and grow sick from the polluted air, but Luhan would always recognize him. In the middle of Yixing’s picture, standing tall between the two other men, is his father. Both of his arms are thrown around the other men, and they look as if they’re in front of the house he’d spent his early years in.

Luhan doesn’t hear the shower stop, but he does hear the sound of the bathroom’s lock and quickly places the picture underneath one of the many things on the desk.

“What are you doing,” Yixing asks him, as Luhan turns around. There’s a towel around his waist, and water drip from the strands of his hair. His eyes are red and a bit puffy, but they’re focused on the desk behind Luhan.

“Thought I’d put your things up,” Luhan states. “You’ve got to hurry, I’ve put in an order to have the room clean, and we’ll be late.” Yixing looks towards him, eyes narrowed in consideration, but nods and turns away.

This chapter, the previous one, and the next two are all a part of one large chapter outline I wrote. I had to break it up because it would be way too long even if I kept only focused on the most imporant details.