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

He tilted his head to one side, as if Sehun’s statement wasn’t something that should alarm him. “Couldn't watch you destroy yourself, could I?”

“B-but—“

“Now, don't ruin the moment.” Luhan beamed. “Haven't you missed me? Your best friend? Your ever-handsome and loyal Hyung that would do anything to appease his dongsaeng?”

Sehun took a step back, but only stumbled upon the front side of the small stairs with the back of his heels, blinking rapidly at the man who was supposedly his best friend, Luhan, talking to him as if nothing had happened.

But then Sehun realized, with a pang of disappointment, that he was hallucinating. The real Luhan couldn't have been here. The real Luhan was dead.

“I missed you… Of course I've missed you.”

Sehun blinked the shock away and looked at his imaginary Luhan. It didn't surprise him that he was this far into insanity; all those sleepless nights and constant mourning wouldn't have affected him any good. It was deemed to happen at some point. He just couldn’t believe it, almost wouldn’t believe it.

Luhan grinned wider and held out his arms, inviting Sehun in for a hug. It was tempting, but Sehun didn't dare to test his imagination. It was enough to know that it was a hallucination, but actually getting proof of it—having to hold onto Luhan and realize it's nothing but air—was something Sehun knew he wouldn't be able to handle. So he shook his head, and offered a very tired and restrained smile.

“You got to let me in, Sehun!” Luhan pouted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I went through so much trouble to get down her just to see you, and this is how you treat me? I shouldn't have bothered.”

The corner of Sehun’s lips twitched. “Really, I'm grateful.”

“You don't seem particular grateful.”

“Well, try finding out you're crazy, then we can talk.”

Luhan’s pout turned into a frown that Sehun almost wanted to massage away. “You're not crazy.”

“Coming from the hallucination,” Sehun spat.

Though the alcohol had sobered up from seeing a ghost of the past—literally—Sehun still found it a little hard to redeem his balance when he started walking the route to his own, very empty and lonely, apartment.

“Hey! I may be your hallucination, but I'm still the Hyung!”

~

It was official. Sehun was losing his mind; probably in some third stage of an unstable mental disorder, but he didn't care. Luhan was with him, skipping down the street like the kid he always was, even at age thirty-something. It made Sehun’s heart beat a little faster, at the same time, it died from the knowledge it wasn't really Luhan, but some imagination—some hallucination—created by his own mind from the never-ending craving to have the elder near him again. Just once.

Sehun should have known this would've happened—was probably warned by some of his friends that still hadn't given up on him, even though he was as responsive as a corpse throughout the day.

But it still looked like Luhan. Breathed like Luhan, laughed like him, danced and hopped—even skipped like Luhan. It was both his Luhan and not.

The wind blew and tossed Luhan’s hair away from his face, reminding Sehun of all the times he had wanted to tug it out of the way so he could stare into those soft and warm eyes, but too afraid to do so.

There was a lot of times Sehun had wanted to do something, but cowered away because of his fright that he might get rejected—or worse—Luhan might hate him.

Sehun counted more than once that he had wanted to take the elder’s hand and give it a little squeeze with his own, or when he wanted to embrace him from behind whenever he caught Luhan in midst of deep concentration. There were so many moments where he just wanted to stay in his Hyung’s personal bubble and never come out again, but he caved to his fears and never told him. Instead he reversed his affection and need for him with coldness and distance, afraid that if he even allowed his eyes to linger too long on the man, that someone would notice that something was off—not quite right.

It had been a waste of both time and energy, Sehun knew now, since he barely had any memory to hold onto where he truly let Luhan in and was himself.

“Sehun~ Pay Hyung attention!”

It was clear by the way Luhan wiggled around in front of him and using his whiniest tone, that Sehun had been disconnected from the world—from him. His lips twitched into almost an apologetic tug of a smile, and scratched his neck unconsciously while eyeing Luhan.

But hold on, if Luhan wasn't anything but a mere hallucination—a frick of his imagination—why was he bothering with getting flustered?

“Ah, what's up?”

“I was wondering if I should dye my hair pink…” Luhan returned to his stroll right beside Sehun, looking up into the starless night sky.

“You were wondering if you should dye your hair—wait what?”

“Yeah, I just thought these blonde locks were getting boring. I need a little more edge, you know?” As he spoke, Luhan tugged on his long fringe that barely freed his eyes. Sehun sometimes doubted Luhan was able to see through his hair.

“Luhan, you're a thirty year-old man, why would you die your hair pink? Why am I even bothering asking this?” He held his last question back: why are you even considering this when you're dead?

“That's discrimination! I will not tolerate such old-fashioned prejudice from my best friend!” Luhan managed to stomp his foot to the ground while walking without falling headfirst at the ridiculous attempt.

“Right, sorry.” Forgot you passionately think you're real.

“Anyway, I was thinking that maybe…” Sehun forgot to register the words Luhan was actually saying in specs to turn his full attention to the small gestures that fiercely had Sehun doubt if it was really just his insanity, or maybe—just a tiny little maybe—Luhan was real, and not dead and here, hot to the touch. If he just reached out and touched him, he would know—

But no. Luhan died—is dead—and no matter what his mind did to feign that fact it didn’t mean it wasn't any less true.

“…so you see my problem?” Sehun tuned in on the last words Luhan said, knowing with the way that his orbs had returned from absentmindedly strolling to his own.

“Mhm-hm,” he answered, not knowing in the slightest what Luhan’s problem is. How bad could a dead person’s problem be?

“You weren't listening, were you?”

Sehun shook his head and flashed an apologetic smile, small but there. It made Luhan sigh, though, and that was all it took for Sehun to strip his features to his normal, operative poker face.

“You're still doing this?” Luhan inquired. “Even when you know that you won't get rejected?”

Sehun looked away, unable to handle the implication in Luhan's voice—that he was only his imagination, therefore no chance for real rejection. His own sigh escaped his lips, threatening to shatter him again, but he bit down on his bottom lip in a desperate try to not break down here, in the middle of the street, with Luhan watching.

“It was always hard to love you, and I did—still do.”

Luhan began walking again, Sehun following cue despite not knowing when and why they had stopped.

Then his brain caught on and registered what Luhan had said and stopped right away, sporting wide eyes and a slightly ajar mouth.

“Say t-that again,” he stammered out after readjusting his jaw.

Luhan spun around. “Say what?”

Sehun forced to blink away his shock and cleared his throat. I'm talking to myself! He groaned internally, but he couldn't stop himself from asking. Even if it was his unconscious-self speaking through Luhan’s body, it was still something. Just maybe, maybe, Luhan might have felt the same as Sehun had, and maybe he had even known it, very deep down, and maybe—

He was being unfair, probably gaining more sorrow by these questions either way they got answered, but he had to know. And despite everything, he was already turning crazy—there was no going back now.

“You said something about loving me?” Sehun finally elaborated.

“Of course, doesn't friends of more than twenty years love each other?”

Right, Sehun thought bitterly, friends care about each other; love each other in a friendly way.

It took every will power in Sehun to continue walking, even though he didn't know who he was keeping up the brave appearance for. It was only him and his self-made Luhan. Albeit, he kept moving towards his apartment, which felt forever to approach.

~

Sehun kept primly silent after that, not only because they met a few people on the streets, who kept staring strangely at Sehun whenever he answered one of Luhan's questions—another thing that proved that Luhan wasn't real—but also because he couldn't find the strength to actually form well-thought-through answers. Though he kept a close eye on Luhan, fearing that with the sobering up of the alcohol, he might vanish too. Even if it was a hallucination, it was still Luhan. And Sehun took everything he could when it came to him, because it was him.

He watched carefully as Luhan ventured off about something that Sehun had a mildly definition about, sometimes changing into mandarin as he got engulfed in his own thoughts, watching as his eyes went wide with realization that he had been talking a foreign language and then apologize repeatedly before moving on.

It didn't really matter to Sehun; just having him here was enough. Even though it was a bittersweet feeling.

Sehun wasn't ready to leave the sound streets—where he knew Luhan won't disappear—when they approached his apartment building, so he convinced Luhan to take a walk around the area. Which turned into two, three and then four before Sehun thought he might be able to handle walking into his apartment, not knowing if Luhan would disappear now or after he lay down in bed.

“Want me to stay with you tonight?” Luhan asked as if he was reading Sehun’s mind.

Sehun could only nod as he found his keys, with less uncertainty than an hour before where the alcohol had run fiercer. Although it took some time to locate the keyhole, they were inside in no time and heading up the stairs to his floor.

Seeing as Luhan walked right beside Sehun, not a tact behind, let him believe once again that Luhan wasn't real. Luhan had never been to his apartment before, because he had still lived with his parents when he passed away, so there was no way he would've been able to be certain which floor Sehun lived on.

Luhan actually went quiet while they made their way up the stairs and into Sehun's apartment, both surprising Sehun but making him ache with the filling silence.

It was clear that he wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer, from too many sleep-depressed days in the running—probably the cause of these hallucinations—so Sehun started for the bedroom, hoping Luhan would come too. And he did, without missing a beat in his steps.

Sehun barely managed to undress himself as an overwhelming tiredness overcame him. There had been a constant restlessness inside him for days, weeks, months—years—which wasn't there now, but he was too exhausted and still poorly effected of the alcohol to notice.

He pulled away the covers and laid down on his bed, making space for Luhan on the edge, which within seconds was filled. Sehun didn't bother to check if Luhan pressed the madras down—he had disappointed himself too many times while looking for clues that might point to Luhan being real. He was getting tired.

“You know, I love you.” Sehun murmured with closed eyes, he knew that Luhan was still there from the imaginary breathing beside him. “In fact, I was in love with you, and I'm probably still in love with you, despite how much time has passed.”

“I know, Sehun-ah. There's a reason I came—you need to let go now.”

Sehun laughed, barely audible, at his words. He could never imagine himself stop loving Luhan. Not when he loved him as fiercely as he did, it seemed impossible to break it, even let it fade over time seemed near unimaginable.

Because Sehun loved Luhan as much as he craved the oxygen to fill his lungs; or how the moon kept sea life alive from the constant shift in height; or just how the flowers needed the bees to bloom, and the bees needed the flowers to make honey. The one thing would never survive without the other, and that was Sehun and Luhan. Sehun couldn't survive without Luhan—he wouldn’t.

And that was why when even the hallucination of someone who was dead—caused by a deprive of sleep—entered his night, he accepted every fleeting moment. And for the first time in three years, Sehun slept without disturbances, to only wake up the next day with a killing hangover and faint memories of a bittersweet summer night dream—repeating the same routine of self-destruction without his Luhan to survive.

A/N: As promised!