I have taken creative liberties. Warning for talk of depression and brief mention of suicide.

The drought was the very worst
When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst

Yifan keeps tabs on them more than he’ll ever admit to. It makes interviews difficult, when MCs and reporters spring questions on him and it takes all his concentration not to blurt that he’s proud of how many advertisements they’re filming, or that he heard the snippet of song Chanyeol posted on Instagram and it’s great, or he saw Jongin and Yixing’s dances and they’re fantastic. Even harder to keep silent about is how worried he is. When Tao got hurt in the jungle and was at the concert a few days later, or how Minseok seems to be losing some of his energy, and Jongin again—that poor kid will break on stage one day if he keeps pushing himself, or if someone keeps pushing him.

It’s hard to keep quiet about how sorry he is to Joonmyun. Not that Kris was much of a leader, not the way Joonmyun—Suho was, getting them to talk on variety shows and always being the one to make sure things went according to script. Yifan was more the leader behind the scenes, quietly seeing to it that everyone got where they needed to go, answering questions when he had to, and mostly giving the spotlight away to the others. Sure, there were times when he came out and said, “Actually, I think I’m the lead singer,” but more often than not he was happy to be in the middle somewhere.

The hardest thing to keep quiet about, is how worried he is for Lu Han. Especially as it becomes obvious that Lu Han is very, very sick. Possibly the worst job for someone with such an awful fear of heights is the job of an idol. The constant flying has been awful and it’s even worse now with all the concerts happening across Asia.

And Yifan hasn’t had one word of contact with Lu Han since he left. He expected that. Yifan had pushed Lu Han away towards the end, pushed them all away once he’d made his choice. He wants to talk to Lu Han now, but this is easier for all of them. It’s easy to keep secrets when you have nothing to hide, and even then he’s sure that Lu Han still has it bad. The company probably has him under a microscope. Half of Yifan feels so sorry for his friends. The other half of him wants to shake them by their necks and scream at them to get out. They made mistakes, they all did, fame wasn’t worth this. But he can’t.

And anything he once had with Lu Han

(Slow kisses and early morning wake ups, curious hands beneath shirts and shorts, muffled gasps into pillows and whimpers of each other’s names)

That’s all gone. You don’t go months without talking to someone and expect everything to be okay one day. He tries not to think about it. It’s not like Lu Han was his boyfriend, they never used that word for each other. They had been lumped together since trainee days, so similar but at the same time so opposite—each was what the other was not. Lu Han was good at singing and dancing, Yifan was good at rap and acting, but they took modeling classes together. Oh yeah, there were classes for that sort of thing. They were both complimented for their looks, some even said it was their looks that got them into a company like SM, but even that was opposite. Lu Han insisted that he was manly and he was—is, there’s no doubt there. But he is definitely beautiful, too.

“Who says a man can’t be beautiful?” Yifan once asked him.

“Not me,” Lu Han said, “It’s the way other people say it, when they mean it as in ‘beautiful like a girl.’”

Nobody would call Yifan beautiful, he was handsome. Broad and strong, imposing even. Lu Han wasn’t delicate by any means but almost anyone, next to Yifan, looked much smaller and slighter. The company wanted them together in a group and everyone knew it, but even then they were friends, all the foreign trainees were. You kind of had to be, someone needed to have your back. The thing between Yifan and Lu Han was started in the trainee dorms on weekends when the Korean trainees went home, and the two of them traded tutoring sessions. Lu Han helped Yifan with his dancing, Yifan helped Lu Han with English, and together they studied Korean, sometimes Mandarin, too, since Yifan was apparently at it. And that relationship of mutual benefit slowly became real friendship, and grew stronger when they were finally promised a debut—a real one, not all those other ones that had fallen through. They were united, the oldest Chinese trainees out of the four, they had each other’s backs because who else would?

And then their debut happened, and it was nothing like what they had expected, what anyone had expected. It was better and worse at the same time, and most of all it was so stressful. When Yifan needed someone to lean on, to to about being a leader, to vent about missing home, he didn’t worry about burdening Lu Han with his problems because he’d already done that when they were trainees. Besides, Lu Han was older than him, and Yifan never liked complaining to the younger kids, even if they were only younger by a few months, he always felt like he needed to take care of them. He took care of Lu Han too, as his leader, but less so than he did the younger ones. But it was more than that—it wasn’t so much about the unloading, it was about getting comfort. Lu Han listened, and then he would comfort. Usually, they would just sit together and hold hands. But then Yifan would lay his head on Lu Han’s shoulder, and then he progressed to curling into Lu Han’s side, and then they started snuggling on the couch, and one night they kissed.

And it felt so right.

They never talked about it, not really, not beyond what felt good and what didn’t. They never put a name to it. They weren’t boyfriends or lovers or even buddies. They were…together, but not in a way that entailed commitment. But in a way, it did. Fanservice was expected but despite what people thought, Lu Han and Minseok had never been together the way Yifan and Lu Han were, and Yifan had never been anything more or less than an older brother to Tao, Kyungsoo, and Baekhyun, and a fellow leader and friend to Joonmyun. He had a real feeling that nobody outside the company knew how close he and Lu Han were.

Were, being the operative word. As soon as Yifan had decided to leave, he started to distance himself. And anything he and Lu Han had, was gone.

Hung my head as I lost the war,
And the sky turned black like a perfect storm

Yifan kind of saw it coming. He knew (hoped) that he wouldn’t be the only one who decided to get out before he could break, but at the time he didn’t think it would happen only a few months later. But the concerts took a toll on all of them, Lu Han especially. It’s hard not to blame himself, though he knows it’s less about him and more about the flying. Lu Han has always hated flying. But he knows that they’re all under a lot of pressure from the company since he left and he knows he didn’t help anything by leaving.

The day after the news breaks, people try to talk to him about it. It’s easy to ignore online comments, he just doesn’t look at them. The texts and worried looks from his friends and coworkers are harder to ignore. But the only one he talks to is his mom.

“Kind of knew it was coming,” Yifan says to her at the end of the day. “I…I’ve been watching. He looks like death.”

His mom nods. “He does. I saw the pictures. Poor child.”

“He’s not a child,” Yifan says. “Part of me doesn’t feel bad at all. He made his choice, and I made mine.”

His mom whacks him over the head. “Don’t pull that on me, you feel terrible. You can feel terrible for him, you're allowed to. But you’re right, he made his choice. They all did, and it wasn't your job to pull them out of that black hole.”

But no matter what he says, Yifan feels like he should have stayed and protected them.

“What are you, super human?” His mom asks—apparently he’s spoken out loud. “’Protect them,’ no. You can feel sorry but don’t feel guilty. You are not a savior, especially not for those who don’t want to be saved.”

(Yifan checks the comments. People are already demonizing Lu Han. His fans are calling out Lu Han’s fans for how they treated him, they’re calling out the other members, they’re screaming for the other members to leave with Lu Han and Yifan. 

And Lu Han supposedly tells a fan, “I’m going home to eat.”)

Yifan wishes he could say something to everyone. He almost does, but he has no idea what he would say anyway. And he almost contacts Lu Han, before he realizes that he doesn’t have his number anymore, nor does Lu Han have his.

But nothing stays a secret for long. Two days later his manager hands him a folded slip of paper and says, “Thought you would have had it already.”

It’s a phone number, no name, and Yifan is confused for a good ten seconds before he realizes who’s phone number it is.

“What—no I didn’t—I didn’t help him,” he snaps. “And what do I do with this?”

He gets a shrug and a Look. Two hours later he texts Lu Han a simple message.

Me:
How are you feeling?

Yeah, that’s the best he can come up with. What do you say to someone you know so well and yet not all?

The response is not at all what he expects.

Lu Han:
I want to talk to you. In person. Are you coming to Beijing any time soon?

Yifan looks at his calendar, and sees that he has two days free next week.

Me:
Yes, next week.

Lu Han texts back quickly.

Lu Han:
Let me know when you get here, I’ll tell you where to go.

With the knowledge that he’s going to see Lu Han again, it gets harder to ignore the things people are saying about him. Now Yifan almost has an obligation to pay attention. He’s not sure what he’s expecting out of this meeting, but he wants to be ready for anything. He wants to be ready to help. It looks like a lot of people are on Lu Han’s side, not just his fans but other people, too. Maybe it’s because of what happened to Jessica (oh yeah, Yifan’s been following that too) but it seems like the majority of international fans are on his side. There are those who aren’t, and they say horrible things about Lu Han. And of course since Yifan was the first traitor, his name gets dragged into it.

He ends up texting Lu Han again.

Me:
Seriously, how are you feeling?

Lu Han:
I don’t know.

Typical, Yifan sighs to himself. But Lu Han isn’t done.

Lu Han:
I didn’t mean for your name to get dragged into it.

Yifan laughs at that.

Me:
You called the same law firm.

Lu Han:
Yeah…but they helped Han Geng-ge, and well…they’re helping you. Who knows how to win this fight better than them?

Yifan’s heart skips a beat. It’s hard to tell over text but Lu Han doesn’t seem mad.

Me:
What have they told you so far?

Lu Han:
I don’t want to talk about that. I’m so tired of all of it.

Me:
So what do you want to talk about when I see you?

Lu Han doesn’t answer him.

The water filled my lungs
I screamed so loud but no one heard a thing

Yifan goes back and watches all the videos of the concerts, and he’s horrified when he realizes how thin Lu Han has truly gotten. His body, his face, there’s nothing left but skin and bones. It’s horrifying. The man in these videos is not the man Yifan knows. And people attack him, saying that he’s got nothing to complain about, some have it so much worse. but Yifan has been there, he knows what it’s like to try to tell these people that you need help, that you’re not right anymore. Bodily issues are one thing but when you’re running on two hours of sleep and you feel like one day you’re going to close your eyes and not wake up…

Yifan pushes those memories away. That’s over now, it’s done. He didn’t die. He probably overreacted anyway.

(Except that he was standing in the shower one day and contemplated tipping his head back and letting the water run into his lungs. They couldn’t force another 20-hour work day on him if he was dead. And later he broke down in the hospital and ended up sobbing on the doctor’s shoulder, and the doctor told him that he did the right thing, he probably saved his own life. Depression was nothing to be messed with.)

Yifan hides his prescription in a zipped up pocket of his backpack when he packs for Beijing.

He meets Lu Han in a hotel. Lu Han told him to just come up, nobody would question him if he acted like he was supposed to be there. it’s a hotel they’ve never stayed in, and Yifan’s not sure if that’s smart or not, but at least it doesn’t hold any memories.

He hesitates outside the room for five minutes before he finally knocks, and it’s so surreal to see Lu Han opening the door that for a second, Yifan is afraid he’s going to pass out. It’s made worse by the fact that he dyed his hair black, Yifan feels like he’s rewound five years and he’s a trainee again. Lu Han grabs his arm and pulls him in, and when he reaches up Yifan flinches, but all Lu Han does is take the cap off his head.

“Hey,” Lu Han says.

Yifan opens his mouth, and nothing comes out.

Lu Han smiles and Yifan’s heart breaks. That’s the Lu Han he remembers.

“I was mad at you, at first. For like twenty minutes,” Lu Han says. “But then I got it, and I get it even more, now. There’s a point where you just say, I have to get out or they’ll take me out in a body bag. And people think you’re being dramatic and you just need to sleep, and it hits you that you’ll sleep when you’re irrelevant. And that could take years, and I…we, we didn’t have years.” Lu Han shakes his head. “Some people can do that. I couldn’t. I was sick, we both were. I’m just sorry that I didn’t see it with you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Yifan says. “I didn’t want you to know.”

Lu Han sighs. “Yeah. I know.” He smiles grimly. “Hard to tell people that you really just…want to die.”

Yifan’s already broken heart crumbles in his chest. “Did you get help?”

Lu Han smiles for real. “Why do you think I’m here?”

Yifan drops his bag and is halfway to taking Lu Han’s hands in his own when he thinks better of it, but Lu Han meets him halfway.

“I got help,” Lu Han says, squeezing his hands gently. “That’s why I wanted to see you. My head is…it feels like I can breathe again.” He laughs. “I’m drowning in legal terms and contracts but I finally feel like I can breathe, and I can have a life again. And I realized that I missed you so much.”

Yifan smiles, tears stinging his eyes. “I missed you too.”

Rain came pouring down when I was drowning
That's when I could finally breathe

Yifan doesn’t really expect Lu Han to shove him against the door and kiss him so hard that it actually hurts—but that’s what he does. And Yifan’s not about to push him away, all he does is tilt his head so that his mouth doesn’t get bruised, and let his lips part so Lu Han can into his mouth. Lu Han pushes his body closer and Yifan steadies him with hands on his hip, thumbs just under Lu Han’s shirt, and Lu Han moans. Yifan leans back to give him an incredulous look.

“I’ve barely touched you.”

Lu Han shakes his head. “Months, Yifan,” He hisses. “It’s been months since I’ve had your hands on me and really, I’m more mad about that.”

Yifan feels a flash of deep regret. “I’m sorry.”

Lu Han shakes his head. “Don’t apologize, for god’s sake, just take me to bed.”

That’s surprising. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Lu Han grabs Yifan by his collar. “Don’t you get it? There’s nobody we have to be careful for anymore. Well maybe you, but not me! We have nowhere to go! Nobody to keep quiet for!” He laughs. “We’re free, we’re finally free, and all I want is you…” He looks at Yifan, eyes flicking all over Yifan’s face. “Unless that’s not what you want?”

“I thought you wouldn’t want me, after the way I left.”

Lu Han steps back. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore when you left.”

But that’s not true. He remembers all too clearly the last time he kissed Lu Han and all the emotions that went with it. He wasn’t running from those, it just happened at a time when he couldn’t promise to be there for anyone but himself. But now he can do that…maybe.

“I do want you,” Yifan says. “How could I not? But what do you want from me?”

Lu Han shrugs. “For now I just want what we had. It was nice, even if we didn’t have a name for it. I liked the way you made me feel, and I liked being with you. For now, can’t we just have that again?”

Yifan feels like his breath is caught in his chest. “So it wasn’t just about ?”

“No!” Lu Han cries. “But I mean…I liked it. And I still want it.” He’s looking more and more unsure. “Should I not have said that? Did you want to talk more?”

It shouldn’t feel like the last few months of no contact never happened, but that’s what it feels like. Maybe they should talk more, but what more can they say?

“I liked what we had too,” Yifan says. “I think we can get it back.”

When he kisses Lu Han again, he lets himself feel it, just feel it. There may not be a word for this, but it feels right, and it feels good.

Yifan ends up staying the night. It’s so liberating, being able to roll over, pull Lu Han into his arms and just close his eyes. They don’t need to get dressed or worry about someone walking in on them cuddling.

“I missed you,” Lu Han says.

Yifan kisses the top of his head and nuzzles his hair. “I missed you, too.”

At 7 AM Yifan’s alarm goes off and he staggers out of bed, aware of Lu Han’s eyes on him, and fumbles for the bottle of pills. He dry swallows one, and returns to bed. He avoids Lu Han’s eyes, but Lu Han doesn’t let him off easily.

“What was it?”

Shouldn’t he know this? Is he really going to make Yifan say it? “Antidepressant.”

Lu Han nods. “They didn’t give me a prescription yet.” There’s a moment of silence. “Is it helping?”

Yifan answers cautiously. “I feel better. I don’t know if it’s the pill or if it’s just…being out.”

Lu Han sits up, and Yifan shakes his head. “Go back to sleep,” Yifan urges, tugging on Lu Han’s arm.

But Lu Han straddles his waist and leans down to kiss him. It’s so familiar, yet so new. Yifan doesn’t know what to do with this freedom, and he understands why Lu Han was so eager last night. It’s hard not to get wrapped up, and carried away.

Lu Han pulls back and grins wickedly. “I’m not tired right now.”

“Me either,” Yifan says. He’s got a whole day, after all. They can sleep again later.

And by morning gone was any trace of you,
I think I am finally clean

I just have a lot of feelings what with this on stage collaboration happening between Lu Han and Yifan for the lunar new year celebration.