Sehun keeps seeing him in his dreams—or should he say—nightmares. The perfect shape of his lips, contrasted with a white scar just beneath them that he never got the story of; the way his hair always seemed to wave faintly, still smooth and thick for Sehun to run his fingers through; how his eyelashes baffled whenever he was confused or surprised about something Sehun did; or just the way his laugh would make Sehun’s whole world stop and spin at the same time.

It drained him a lot to think about him, and to dream about him seemed even worse. Sehun would wake up, covered in sweat, and linger in the feeling that he had lost something important in those few moments of faint numbness, not knowing what it was but still knowing that there was something he should be remembering. And then came the dread of reality, the truth he had been trying to reason with for so long, that he wasn’t there—wasn’t here by his side anymore—like a wave trying to forge entry.

It was always the same every night. He would go up to the doors of the café he worked at and see him there, engulfed in his work as he tried to give his costumer all his attention. Sehun would find himself smiling and moving closer to the door, grabbing the handle and go inside. And in exactly that moment, everything would shift and he would be gone, nowhere to be seen. Sehun would ask his former co-workers where he had gone, but they would only exchange strange glances and tell him they didn't know who he was talking about. As if he had never existed. As if he had never crossed Sehun’s path.

But the endless nights of waking at four am, small droplets of sweat dripping down his forehead, ensured him that he had existed. That he hadn't imagined him. Then he would shake his head, and tell himself that it was only a bad dream.

And now, three whole years with no change to his dreams at all, he stood outside his door, for what seemed the one-hundred and thousand time, alcohol running deep in his system. He knew it wouldn't make a difference, but it was better than go home and try to sleep, hoping that tonight would be the night he wouldn't dream. But Sehun knew better. It didn't seem wasteful to spend a few hours drinking his guts out—again—and end up staring at the door, all without making a hint to move further.

The reason that it might not seem useful is of course, because even though Sehun might try to knock on his door this time around, he wouldn't answer; maybe even no one would. Because he was gone. He didn't live there anymore.

Nevertheless it didn't stop Sehun from coming. There was nowhere else to go, so at least being somewhere he knew once held the faint presence of him, was enough to enchase him to go every time it was becoming unbearable.

It still ached his heart, no matter how drunk he got, whenever he would come and relive all of their memories.

Once Sehun had gotten so drunk at one of his school get-togethers that his friends had called him and he had taken them here, making sure Sehun would have proper nursery at his dangerous state. It didn't surprise Sehun the next day to wake up to the known smell of fresh sheets and a sleeping figure sitting promptly on a chair pulled up beside the bed, all without knowing how and when he got here.

Even when he was in high school, everyone knew that Sehun and him were inseparable. And he didn't even go to his school—had actually graduated a couple of years earlier—but they still knew that no one stood in compare for Sehun. Sehun only saw him. There was simply no other option, in Sehun’s head. Even after five years had passed, his former classmates vainly believed they were still glued to each other’s paths in life. And it had been true.

But it wasn't anymore.

Because he wasn't by Sehun’s side anymore.

The memory hurt a little, sending a hot tear rolling down his cheek. It wasn't Sehun to cry about it. What was done was done. He couldn't change how things had turned out. But the one tear was still followed by another, and another, and yet another until he was quietly sobbing in the night.

It just hurt so badly. Nothing had even lightened the burden of the weight that was tugging at Sehun’s heart; holding him tight in a verse-like grip that wouldn't vain.

Another memory popped in front of Sehun’s vision, clouded now from his silent crying. He saw him, there, standing with an arm draped around Sehun’s shoulder that he once had barely thought of, but now craved for more than anything. He was laughing his world-changing laugh because of something Sehun had said. Though he couldn't recall now what it had been, probably one of his hurtful comments, he thought.

Another thing he regretted.

Sehun had taken things for granted, thought he would always be there with him—by his side, supporting him—and he hadn't cared to think before speaking. Always saying mean things, act like he didn't care, glare at his every attempt to make Sehun open up to him.

And now he was gone—No, had been gone of Sehun’s life for three whole years.

How much Sehun would give for getting one moment back, just to feel the elder, or just watch him go. Anything would satisfy Sehun’s achingly hunger for one fleeting moment of his presence. Just one, a tiny moment where he could breathe normally, not feeling the hollow tightness constricting his chest, or the clamp grapping his heart, but just finally breathe with him there, by his side again.

But he couldn't have it. He knew that. It was being too selfish to ask for, and too naïve to believe anyone would grant.

Sehun sighed, running his hand through his hair. When had he become so pathetic?

But he didn't care, it was him. Sehun had no other excuse than, it was him.

He would take looking like a pathetic idiot any day if he could just have one moment, one moment to—

Sehun cast a last glance at the door before he turned around to go home, his emotions were getting too taunt—too irrational—to trust himself near his apartment. He was about to step down the doorway’s three steps when he saw him. There, in flesh and blood, looking at him with both confusion and interest, the way he had always looked at Sehun.

“L-Luhan?” It was barely audible, muffled both from exhaustion and alcohol.

Sehun couldn’t believe it. He took one step forward, and he practically ran down the few steps, not without almost tripping over his own feet, just to get near enough to clarify that his eyes weren't playing tricks with his mind.

But no, he was there. Sehun gaped at him, the world, the universe, whatever thing that mattered. Luhan was here, before his eyes, but—

“Luhan,” Sehun whispered, “...you're supposed to be dead.”

A/N: Next chapter will be up tomorrow (it's longer than this, I promise)