••••••••

            It takes them a while to get back into any sort of routine after their rendezvous with Minseok, and Sehun is more than a little disappointed about it. He almost wishes that he’d let Luhan talk him into postponing it a little while longer, but he isn’t sure what would have changed with time, so he lets it go. Sehun likes routine, anyways – he likes how it’s settled, non-chaotic, and peaceful. He likes the idea of being able to tell people his personal timetable – coffee, work, home, tea, sleep – without having to recall all the variations because, really, he can never remember the specifics of any given day. Even if it drags a little, Sehun is fine with that. He’s tired of staying places hardly long enough to even form routines, habits, attachment. He’s tired of the surprises.

            Luhan was one of the biggest surprises he’d ever been hit with, but now he’s become routine. Sehun would be happy about that if the routine they’d formed wasn’t not seeing each other for days at a time.

            He can’t stop thinking about his promise to Minseok. He is at a total loss as to how to complete it. Luhan expresses no desire to leave, but he expresses no desire to stay, either – he’s gone nine times out of ten when Sehun gets home. He doesn’t come back until later, feign smiling as he chucks his shoes off at the door and retires onto the part of the couch that he’s claimed as his own, drunk and yet still unnervingly quiet. Sehun swears he’s imprinting a permanent buttmark there to match the one in his dorm room, but Luhan doesn’t laugh at that joke anymore – only smiles distractedly, face caught somewhere in between legitimate joy and paralyzing sadness.

            Sehun thinks he’d prefer one or the other, but he never tells Luhan that.

            Sehun talks to him when he gets the chance about topical things that he knows don’t matter. Hey, how are ya? (He knows exactly how Luhan is.) Wonderful weather we’re having. (Luhan gives him funny looks when it’s storming, but he doesn’t say anything.) Okay, see ya around. (He often doesn’t see him again until he’s passed out on the couch.) Luhan humors him, chipping into meaningless conversations with all the ardor he can muster, but in the end, they both know what they’re skirting around.

            Sehun hates it. He hates it so much that he falls asleep every night physically ill from hating it so much.

            The days that Luhan comes back fully sober are the worst ones of all. Alcohol dulls Luhan’s veins, mutes the spark in his eyes, dims the glow of his skin, but sobriety makes him beam, and Sehun hurts when he hurts, but he hurts even more when he’s shining without him. Luhan starts coming back more and more without a of alcohol in him as the weeks go on, radiating this barely subdued happiness, and Sehun is a jealous creature because he wants him to gleam like that when he’s around.

            One night of sleeplessness, Luhan creeps in at one in the morning. Sehun glances at him from his chair in front of the television, and Luhan gives him a look that resembles a disobedient teenager that’s just been caught. Sehun nods up at him, and Luhan returns it awkwardly.

            “Where were you?” Sehun asks. It’s the first time he’s shown any interest in anything besides what food Luhan wants to eat for dinner or how his classes have been going, now that he’s got his books back. Luhan looks taken aback, so he shrugs off Sehun’s hoodie slowly instead of answering.

            “I was…with a friend,” he starts slowly.

            “Minseok?”

            “God, no.” Luhan tosses the hoodie on the kitchen counter and pads to the refrigerator to retrieve a diet soda. Sehun watches him as subtly as he can. “Someone else.”

            “Do I know them?” Sehun asks offhandedly, turning back to the television because he’s not sure why he’s so interested in Luhan getting a drink. He hears a can pop open, but Luhan doesn’t close the refrigerator. He just plops into his place on the couch, taking a long swig and focusing on the breaking news story splayed across the television screen. “Are you going to close that?”

            “I’m going to go back in like, two seconds,” Luhan responds, swallowing another mouthful of fake sugar and carbonated water. Sehun wrinkles his nose. “No point in closing it.”

            “I pay for that power bill.”

            “I’ve got money.”

            Sehun rolls his eyes, but he repeats, “Do I know them?”

            Luhan pauses, mulling over something in his head, before sighing and saying, “No. You don’t.”

            Sehun catches his hesitation, so he follows up with, “Do I know of them?”

            Luhan bites his lip. “…yes.”

            “Wait, let me guess,” Sehun says, holding up a finger. He taps his bottom lip thoughtfully before saying, “BoA.”

            Luhan scoffs from the couch, rolling over onto his side to look at Sehun. “She’s famous, numbnuts.”

            “I thought you had friends in high places. Is it the president of America? Have you been meeting in secret?”

            “Yes. I am an undercover American agent disguised as a Chinese guy speaking Korean. You’ve caught me.”

            “It sounds like a pretty good cover-up.”

            Luhan shakes his head, but he smiles, too. Sehun feels accomplished. “It’s actually…Jongdae. You know, my childhood best friend? I got back in contact with him, like you suggested.”

            Sehun feels a pang of guilt. He brushes it off because he’s not even sure where it came from. “He still lives around here?”

            “Yeah.” Luhan downs the remainder of his drink and hops up to get another. “He goes to a university a little ways away from here, so I’ve been taking the bus to hang with him.” He quiets. “He lives in an apartment with Tao. Remember him?”

            “The model,” Sehun muses. “So you’ve killed two birds with one stone.”

            Luhan pauses beside the kitchen counter. Sehun feels him lingering beyond his vision. “Maybe…three birds?”

            Sehun casts his gaze back to him. He twists a dirty dishrag between his hands, his second soda abandoned on the countertop. “What do you mean?”

            “I mean,” Luhan sighs, “Tao is moving next year, to China, because he thinks he’ll have more opportunities to succeed in modeling and stuff there, and Jongdae…offered me a place to stay. There, you know. It’s close, and I wouldn’t…be burdening you anymore.”

            “…burdening.” It takes a second to process. “You’re not burdening me.”

            “Don’t pretend,” Luhan replies with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been awkward, recently. I don’t want to be the source of you being uncomfortable in your own home.”

            It’s true that Sehun has felt more and more pressed to be quiet and stoic lately, but for some reason, Luhan leaving doesn’t feel even remotely like the solution to this problem. “Luhan, I really don’t think—”

            “I haven’t told him I would yet,” Luhan assures, “so don’t worry about it too much right now. It’s only a suggestion. If you ever need me gone.”

            Sehun presses his lips shut before he can protest anymore. Before he lets slip the first response that crosses his mind.

            You’re not allowed to be me.

            Luhan downs another diet soda in silence before settling down to go to bed, looking a little wary of Sehun’s presence in the livingroom. Sehun doesn’t move, though, keeping his eyes riveted on the late night cop show marathons plastered across every channel he flips through. It doesn’t take Luhan long to doze off, even with Sehun hovering from a table away, and Sehun decides that he can’t possibly mind him staying if he’s unconscious.

            Sehun curls up in the chair, knees to chest, heartbeat thumping next to his thighs and back bending like elastic. Even when he closes his eyes to sleep, he sees Luhan’s silhouette against his eyelids for a long time afterwards.

            A knock on the door resounds through Sehun’s apartment at 10:13 the next day, jolting him out of a strange dream of a world made only of the color red. He rubs his eyes groggily, attempting to lift himself into a sitting position and effectively rolling himself off the chair and onto the floor instead. He groans when the knock comes again, crawling on all fours to the door. Luhan snores softly behind him, not at all bothered by the noise, and Sehun envies him his ability to sleep through anything. He’d probably dream about catching on fire before he woke up in a burning building. Sehun grunts when he gets to the door, pulling himself up onto his feet and dusting off his shirt before throwing it open and—

            His eyes widen of their own accord. The boy outside shifts, looking a little surprised, but not much. Sehun coughs as the kid smiles politely, holding out a curled up phone charger with his left hand.

            “Sorry, you know Luhan, right?” he asks, and Sehun’s heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach. He wants to say something, to deny it or to confirm it or to shake the boy’s shoulders because doesn’t he recognize someone he knows when he sees them—

            “I’m Jongdae,” the boy continues, unabashed. “Luhan came over last night, I don’t know if he told you, but he left this here and he’d told me your address in case I needed to come for any reason, so—”

            “I’ll give it to him,” Sehun interrupts, swiping the phone charger from his palm and going to shut the door. Jongdae jumps, and at the sound of his voice, his eyes widen, too, eyelashes fluttering innocently against high cheekbones. Before Sehun can block him off, he hears the beginnings of a syllable coming from Jongdae’s mouth. “Se—”

            He slams the door closed without another word.

            Jongdae starts ramming the door again with his fist, but Sehun slides up against it in panic. Luhan stirs from across the room, and Sehun curses Jongdae for being so damned loud all the time. He can’t open the door, but he can’t keep it shut either if he keeps going like this because if Luhan wakes up there’s no way he can explain his way out of it, no way he can hide the truth from Jongdae and Luhan at the same time, and this is a giant mess, oh God what do I do, what do I say, what do I—

            “Sehun!” Jongdae’s muffled voice breaks through the barrier of wood between them. Luhan’s eyes roll behind his eyelids, and his brow draws together.

            “Sehun…” It’s Luhan’s voice this time, heavy with sleep. Sehun’s breath catches.

            He finally opens the door as Jongdae is in mid-swing and swears when his fist connects with his chest. He closes the door abruptly behind his back and hisses, “Will you be quiet?”

            “Where the hell have you been?” Jongdae exclaims, shaking out the hand that he’d hit Sehun with, and although it’s the same question that Kyungsoo had asked four weeks ago, it sounds a lot different in Jongdae’s mouth. Sehun’s mind goes completely blank when he realizes that Jongdae is smiling at him, toothy grin spread wide across his taut features, that excitement is coloring his words and his arms have spread wide to overtake him in a brohug to rival the heavens, and Sehun can do nothing but freeze up in his grasp.

            “I thought you left for good!” he practically yells next to Sehun’s ear. Sehun sputters, drawing away and shushing him with a finger. Jongdae peeps up at him in surprise, glancing around cautiously. “What is it?”

            “Luhan is asleep,” Sehun whispers. Jongdae’s brow smooths at that, smile returning full force.

            “So? He sleeps like a stone building,” Jongdae laughs, smacking Sehun’s back. “Where have you even dropped from? Luhan never mentioned that he was staying with you! That little sneak, keeping something this big hidden—”

            “How did you recognize me?” Sehun demands. “How?”

            Jongdae trails to a stop, tilting his head in confusion. “How? It’s obvious. You’ve got some pretty nifty hair now, sure, but I’d recognize that dumb monotone voice anywhere—”

            “Then why didn’t he?”

            Jongdae is completely silenced by that, face contorting in concern when Sehun leans against the side of the building and slides down to sit. He looks more befuddled than ever, squatting down to take in Sehun’s sulky expression. “What are you talking about?”

            Sehun jerks his thumb back towards the inside of the apartment. “He doesn’t know I’m me.”

            “Then…why didn’t you tell him?” Jongdae scratches his head. “He’d know it was you the second you said your own name—”

            “I couldn’t,” Sehun breaks in, aghast. “Remembering my name isn’t the point. He doesn’t remember me.”

            “Well, sure he does,” Jongdae starts again with the beginnings of a smile. “If you said you were Sehun, then he’d see all the things that he was missing right off the bat, as if it were obvious the whole time—”

            “It should have been obvious anyways.” Sehun rolls his head back to hit brick, sighing loudly. “It’s not a big deal. He’s going to move in with you, apparently. I won’t ever have to tell him.”

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jongdae says, waving his hands frantically. “You mean you’re thinking of not telling him? What are you, stupid?”

            “It’s easier,” Sehun replies tiredly. “I wish you’d never recognized me.”

            Jongdae winces. “Ouch, man. That’s harsh.”

            “It would have made things so much less complicated. He could have just…gone.”

            “Well, for you,” Jongdae replies matter-of-factly, “because there is no way I’m letting him walk away from here now without knowing that you’re the kind, adoring soul who’s taken him in in his time of need—”

            Sehun turns sharp eyes in Jongdae’s direction. Jongdae topples and falls flat onto his , eyes round and startled. “Don’t even think of telling him.”

            “Why would telling him be such a bad thing? Look, whatever reasons you had for not telling him in the first place, I think he deserves to know at some point—”

            “I’ve got a life that I can maintain on my own, and so does he. We don’t have any business hanging around each other much longer.”

            “But you guys were best—”

            “Leave the past in the past.”

            “But—”

            “Jongdae.”

            Jongdae frowns at him, straightening his legs and brushing off his pants. “You know, I missed you too, you . And if it were me, I would have wanted you to tell me, so I could tell you that.”

            Sehun’s eyelids droop to a close. “I… I missed all of you for a long time.”

            “Implying you don’t anymore. Right.” Jongdae turns, scuffing his shoes against the concrete, before pausing a couple steps away. “You know, Luhan still talks about you all the time. He literally lights up whenever he hears your name. And he gets dark at the same time.”

            “It’s better than shorting him out,” Sehun mutters.

            Jongdae shakes his head and leaves without another word.

            When Sehun summons the willpower to pick himself up off the ground outside an hour later, he walks in to find Luhan thumbing through his phone, tongue stuck out in dismay. Sehun stops, still subconsciously clinging to Luhan’s phone charger. Luhan glances up. “So I got the weirdest text— Oh hey, is that mine?”

            “Oh,” Sehun murmurs, looking down at his hand. He tosses the charger at the couch, and Luhan swats it to the ground instead of catching it. Sehun suppresses his laughter. His head still feels too heavy with thoughts. “Your friend came by to drop it off because you left it last night or something. What message did you get?”

            “It was actually from him,” Luhan sighs, retrieving the charger from the floor and stretching to plug it in without removing himself from the couch. He hooks up his phone and smiles in satisfaction as the lock lights up with a lightning bolt.

            Sehun’s entire body stills, even though his brain is commanding he walk to the chair and sit, like he normally would. “What did it say?”

            “Jongin’s coming back from the states, apparently, and he’s in desperate need of a place to stay, so the roommate offer has been revoked.” Luhan shrugs. “Mind dealing with me a little longer?”

            Sehun can only shake his head in disbelief.

            He still thinks it’s one or the other, not both.

            “Unless you need me to leave.” Luhan’s voice is worried.

            Black and white, even though the rest of the world is in Technicolor.

            Sehun sighs. “Stay as long as you need.” He means it, even if he doesn’t want to.

            That little troll.

기억 – IX

잊다 2002-6-7

“They took me away today.
They didn’t let me say goodbye.

I’m scared.

They left me in a white room.
Luhan would probably say it’s cream,
or ivory,
or pearl,
but it’s just white, really.

Plain,
and simple,
and white.

…I think I’ve been forgotten.”