Feelings, what are they

what are their worth

if words won't do justice for them

====

April, 2014

Luhan walked through the spacious corridor with mouth almost agape. The hospital was almost to nothing like the one he was taking residency in. It looked so luxurious, almost like a castle. He started to wonder if maybe even President Obama was ever treated there, or maybe Justin Bieber, and also wonder why he started thinking of Justin Bieber in the first place. As he hopped into the extravagant elevator, he started calculating how much it would cost to take residency program there; and gave up because he probably would have to sell ten kidneys to do so.

Damn you rich kid, Luhan thought with this bittersweet feeling blooming inside his chest.

He tried to remember the instructions given to him the day before as he walked through a group of elegant looking doctors. Less than a minute, he finally found the room he was looking for. Assuring himself that the number was right, he lifted his hand to knock on the door. But before he could do so, the door was opened itself. Okay technology can’t be this mean.

True to his guess, someone emerged from the room, walking out quietly. The man was tall, his hair was styled upwards in a very elegant way, and judging from his expensive looking outfit and the structure of his face, he must be –

“Kris Oh? I mean – Oh Yibeom?”

The guy chuckled at Luhan. “Just call me Yifan. Wu Yifan is my Chinese name.” Luhan frowned involuntarily. “Well, only family uses that but you’re a family as well, right?”

Luhan looked down over his sneakers, flustered. “Th-thank you.”

“Hey, we’re the same age. We can be buddies, y’know.” Yifan laughed. “Anyway, you can go inside now. Go quietly to surprise him, but please don’t go overboard, okay? Wouldn’t want to endanger him instead.”

“I understand.” Luhan nodded enthusiastically. “But I have a question, I hope it’s not offending. How are you brothers with him? You’re Chinese.”

Yifan smiled. “Well, first thing first, we’re half-brothers. My mother, deceased, was Chinese. Then our father got married again with a Korean woman and then they got him. The surename ‘Wu’ was from my mother. Which is actually the literal Chinese translation of ‘Oh’ in Korean. Can you see the red string?”

Luhan laughed, albeit awkwardly because Yifan was too friendly for someone he just met. “I should be going inside then.”

“Oh, yes, please.” Yifan grinned. “This will be his best birthday ever.”

Luhan wanted to look at Yifan and ask ‘are you goddamn sure’ because the last time they met, they weren’t in a very good term. Eight months of no communication could do a lot of things to their relationship. However he decided to just go in and show up, just like that, all in. What could be the worst case after all; him being casted away?

The room inside was no less luxurious. If only it wasn’t for the IV pole and other machines which supported patient’s health, he would’ve mistaken it as a hotel room. Damn you rich , Luhan cursed inside before his breath stopped for a moment. He tried hard not to be noticed just yet.

There, on the hospital bed, was the person he had longed to meet for months. The person, to his relief, was reading a book casually.

“Ahem,”

The person looked away from the book, and when their eyes met, both held themselves from gasping out loud.

But as usual, Luhan was always the first to break the silence. He spread both of his arms away awkwardly and grinned nervously. “Happy birthday...?”

They stared at each other for a quite long minute. It was until the person on the bed spoke, with tears starting to roll down his face, that Luhan realized he was doing the same.

“It’s been so long since the last time you wished me a happy birthday,” the person smiled, “hyung.”

It took no more than three seconds for Luhan to envelope Sehun in his arms.

==

“Confession time. You can start.”

“Why me? You start.”

“What? Why me? You start.”

“I can do this all night long and you’d still lose in the end.”

“Okay then, geez, pickle. What should I confess about first, hm? I haven’t eaten pizza ever since you left.”

“… lie.”

“Not. Even. A single slice.”

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