What had originally been a “study retreat” becomes a vacation, and Sehun isn’t complaining. Though he does not participate much in conversations, preferring to stay in his corner munching on one of the many snacks Kyungsoo makes for everyone, he enjoys listening to the cheerful banter and every present bickering between the team members. But, there are times, even though Sehun does not admit it, when he feels just a tiny bit jealous and wishes, just a little bit, to be part of the conversation as well.

When those feelings do dance into his mind though, they never stay long. Luhan will always appear a few minutes later, holding another plate of freshly baked cookies that he had just begged Kyungsoo for. He will drop down next to Sehun, sliding against the wall and stretching his legs out, balancing the plate on his knees. And although they don’t always talk, Sehun will suddenly feel oddly comforted, having somebody by him.

Luhan never does say much, which surprises Sehun, since he always seems so talkative and so social. When he is with Sehun in that little corner, however, he will shy away from the rest of the chattering members. They will sit for hours in silence, and Sehun never feels awkward or the need to run away and never come back again. It is almost as if Luhan is a completely different person, yet Sehun will feel a sense of familiarity and security, like they’ve met years and years ago.

During those times, Sehun also finds out a lot more about Luhan. He realizes that Luhan often speaks in cryptic sentences, but he never does try to figure out the meaning behind Luhan’s softly muttered words. He is content with just hearing Luhan’s smooth voice floating between small breaths. Often though, when he is lying awake in bed, Luhan’s words will come back to him, and even when he feels himself drifting off to sleep, he can’t seem to forget them.

Even though it’s been a couple of months since Sehun has moved to Seoul High and joined the Decathlon team, he still isn’t close to most of the team mates. His friendship with Baekhyun is just barely established, and usually, he never talks to anyone aside from Luhan. When someone speaks to him, he’d lower his eyes and mumble a one or two word answer and offer them a nervous smile, hoping that they would leave him alone. They usually would, and Sehun would be alone again. For some reason, he feels more comfortable that way, and never minds the lonely pit in his stomach. He’s so accustomed to that feeling that he’s able to ignore it. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even realize it’s there.

But, Sehun does notice things. He notices things others don’t, because he stays away from the tumultuous waves of life, letting them roll pass him as he observes from behind a thick piece of metaphorical but impenetrable glass. And because he’s so detached from everyone else, never caught in their games of life, he notices the way Luhan’s smile would disappear ever so gently when he’s alone and staring out the window. He notices the way his smile would appear, a million times brighter and a million times more forced, when someone calls out his name and pulls him away from his thoughts.

He notices the way Luhan would brush his fingers alongside the keyboard Baekhyun had brought with him for practice, expression unreadable and eyes closed as his finger hangs suspended over a high C. He notices the way Luhan would inhale shakily and drop his hand, letting it hang limply by his side.

Sehun notices all of that, and more, but he can only watch as Luhan falls into one of his deep reveries, a thoughtful look on his face and an unexplainable sadness in his eyes.

---

“Luhan?” Sehun says hesitantly. “Lu…luhan?”

“Oh!” Luhan’s head snaps towards him, and he smiles. “What’s up, Sehun?”

Sehun swallows and points towards the living room. “Junmyeon’s calling an impromptu meeting. He wants to discuss next year’s expenses, I think.”

“Damn, I hate meetings,” Luhan says cheerfully as he stands from his seat at the kitchen island and stretches. “They’re so boring, and Junmyeon’s the only one who cares.”

Sehun watches as Luhan carefully places his bookmark in his book—he notices that it is turned to the same page as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that—and stores it carefully next to the salt and pepper shakers.

“Come on,” Luhan grins. “You’re going to suffer with me.”

“I—”

Luhan doesn’t give him a chance to finish and grabs him by the arm, dragging him towards the living room.

On the last day of vacation, Sehun grows curious. He’s alone, sitting on a couch in the living room, because he is the first to finish packing. Baekhyun had waved him out of the room impatiently when he offered to help him, claiming that he needed his alone time. So, Sehun ends up in the living room, amusing himself by watching people running around the house screaming where are my socks where’s my mp3 omfg luhan did you take my jacket again?

Luhan’s book lies forgotten on the coffee table in front of him.

His eyes fall on it, and almost on instinct, he reaches for it, turning it over in his hands. It’s neatly wrapped in colored paper, the title Flowers for Algernon printed neatly on the front in Luhan’s characteristic handwriting.

The cover’s worn out, and the pages of the book are dog-eared and bent, and as Sehun flips slowly through the pages, he realizes that Luhan must’ve had this book for a long time. He turns carefully to the page it’s marked, and the bookmark—a piece of paper folded in fourths—flutters out.

Sehun picks it up, and even though there’s a voice telling him that it isn’t his business and that he should leave it the way it is, he unfolds it.

Seoul Music Academy

Dear Mr. Luhan

Congratulations, I am pleased to inform you of your admission to the Seoul Music Academy, a world-renowned music program for the…

He skims the letter quickly, and looks at the registration date. November 21.

“Sehun? What are you doing?” Luhan asks.

Sehun looks up quickly and nearly drops the book. He stands up sheepishly, closing the book and quickly folding the letter and sticking it back into the book.

“I—I just…I didn’t know if it was private—I was bored so I wanted to see what you were reading—the paper just fell out so—”

To Sehun’s relief, Luhan merely laughs, but he could hear the strain in his chuckles.

“It’s okay, it’s human nature to be curious,” Luhan says lightly as he takes the book from Sehun and flips through it. He takes out the letter and smiles. Sehun feels afraid. He’s never seen a smile so sad before.

“Luhan…” He begins as he takes a step forwards, unsure of what to do next, but feeling that he has to do something all the same.

“I’ve nearly forgotten about this,” Luhan says, ignoring him. Sehun knows he’s lying, he knows that the letter has never left Luhan’s mind. He knows that it’s a dark cloud hanging over Luhan’s life, causing an eternal shadow amidst and cold, harsh rain, and it is what hid Luhan’s smile.

“Do you want to know what it is?” Luhan smiles brightly and looks at Sehun.

Sehun swallows and shakes his head. “I—”

Luhan’s smile falters and his eyes drop. “Of course, you already know.” He laughs. “Well then."

He stops there, and Sehun warily waits for him to continue, a bit afraid of what was to come.

“Well then,” Luhan repeats, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper and he takes in a breath. He jams the letter back into the book and stuffs it into his backpack.

There’s a period of silence as Luhan stares at his zipped backpack, and Sehun stares at Luhan.

“Shall we go?” Luhan says suddenly, a false cheeriness coloring his words. “We should get to the bus before them so we can get good seats!”

He takes Sehun’s hand and pulls him out the door, and Sehun wants to ask him what’s the point of getting good seats, since they’re probably going to sleep through the whole ride anyways, but he doesn’t, because he notices the stiffness in Luhan’s smile.

Sehun notices. Even though Luhan thinks no one does, Sehun notices.

---

As Sehun had predicted, the whole team sleeps through the ride, with the exception of Chanyeol, who never seems tired, and Victoria, who spent the whole time texting her best friend about her trip. Sehun himself takes a half-hour nap, waking up only when Luhan lightly jostles his side.

“Oops,” Luhan says softly when he sees Sehun blinking at him sleepily. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’alright,” Sehun mumbles as he rubs his eyes and sits up. “Where are we?”

“On the highway.”

Sehun doesn’t mention how useless that answer was and merely nods.

“I was going to go to sleep, but since you’re awake, I’m going to keep you company,” Luhan says.

Sehun quickly holds up his hands. “No, no, it’s fine. You can go to sleep, I’m fine.”

“Nah, I want to talk with our adorable maknae.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re the youngest, aren’t you?”

Sehun stays quiet, and Luhan grins triumphantly. He reaches into his backpack and extracts a huge back of chips.

“Want some?” Luhan mumbles, mouth full of Lay’s.

“Um.”

“Here, have some.” Luhan grabs Sehun’s hand, ignoring the small yelp Sehun gave, and sticks it into the bag. Sehun obediently takes a single chip out and chews it carefully.

Luhan looks at him.

“What?”

“Have some more.”

Sehun gives in and takes a handful this time, eating it slowly as he and Luhan settle into silence.

“Did you buy your parents any souvenirs?” Luhan asks after a while.

Sehun hesitates before answering. “No.”

“Why not?”

“My mother…doesn’t really care. And my father doesn’t live with us, so…” Sehun trails off and shrugs his shoulders, trying to appear casual.

Luhan pats his arm comfortingly.

“Here.” He gives Sehun a small floral printed box, ornamented with a pink ribbon.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a charm bracelet. Give it to your mother.”

“I—”

“Trust me, all parents care.”

Luhan’s tone makes Sehun pause and search his face for a few seconds. Luhan holds his gaze steadily, a small smile present on his face. He pushes the box into Sehun’s hands.

“Thank you,” Sehun says finally. “Thank you.”

---

The lights are off when Sehun unlocks the door to his house. The bus had dropped him off at his school, and despite Luhan’s offers to give him a ride home, he politely refuses and opts to walk in the cold instead. He has always liked the chill.

He drops his duffel bag on the living room floor and throws his clothes into the washing machine, noticing that the laundry hamper was full. He sighs and begins sorting out the laundry.

After he starts the machine, he makes his way upstairs, flipping on lights as he goes. He knows that he has to turn them all off when he goes to sleep, but he’s never liked the dark. He pauses outside of his mother’s office and plays with the box that was in his pocket. He’s about to turn the door handle when the door swings open, revealing his disheveled and tired-looking mother.

“Oh,” she says. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” Sehun replies, looking at the floor.

“Did you need something?”

“I—No.”

“Okay. I have to finish a report by Monday, so don’t bother me. I’m going to make some coffee.”

“I made some,” Sehun says quickly. “It’s on the kitchen island.”

His mother pauses on her way down the stairs. “Thank you."

“Oh, and,” he reaches into his pocket and takes out the box. “This is for you.”

She looks at him oddly, and takes it. Sehun can’t seem to meet her gaze, and he drops his eyes, shuffling his feet.

“Thank you,” she says again, slowly this time. “Thank you.”

There’s an unfamiliar look in her eyes when she looks at Sehun that makes his mouth feel dry and his chest heavy. He hasn’t seen that expression since he was a child.

“You’re welcome.”

She doesn’t move, and stands looking at him for a while. When Sehun finally takes a step towards his room, she opens .

“Your present.”

Sehun stops.

“Your Christmas present is in your room.”

When Sehun turns back around, she’s already halfway down the stairs.

Sehun sees the small, plainly wrapped box on his desk as he drops into his chair. He pulls it towards him and simply stares at it blankly for a while, mind slowly comprehending what it was. His mother had never bought him a present before.

When he’s finally gathered his wits, he tears the wrapping paper carefully, folding it away to store in his drawer of special stuff later. It’s a generic design, with balloons and sprinkles printed on white paper, but Sehun doesn’t mind. He thinks he might like it more than the fancily designed wrapping paper with cartoon penguins and polar bears.

The box is also plain, cardboard with nothing printed on it except for his name. There’s not even a From: Mother written underneath. He exhales deeply and lifts the lid carefully, not sure of what to expect.

Settled in the cave formed by Styrofoam is a new iPod Touch, the one he had been admiring at the department store when he and his mother last went shopping. It must’ve been months ago, since his mother doesn’t really have the time to go out, and he handles most of the shopping. He takes it out and sees that it’s indeed the new fifth-generation iPod Touch, 64 gb, complete with songs preloaded onto it.

As he scrolls through the short lists of songs, he feels his throat constrict, and there’s a burning behind his eyelids. They are old songs, songs he hasn’t listened to for a long time, but songs he listened to with his family.

They are songs his father would play on the guitar and songs his mother would sing. They are songs his parents would claim to be their song and songs that held a meaning only understood by him, and his mother, and his father.

They are songs that were played on repeat during his childhood, when all of them were together, when his mother and father didn’t fight, and his mother didn’t work all night long, and his father didn’t call once a year. They are songs that were characteristic to a happy family that Sehun thought he wouldn’t be able to see again in his entire life.

But as he presses play for the first song and closes his eyes, he thinks that he could almost see his father’s smile and hear his mother’s laugh.