Sehun could only thank God that it is a Saturday when he wakes up in the morning.

 

Sunlight spills through the windows as he groggily rubs his eyes, wincing at the soreness in his lower back. He finds himself in his spinning computer chair—a blanket sliding off of him. His bed is made neatly, and he immediately shakes himself awake when he realizes that Luhan was gone. Again.

 

Sehun immediately jumps up, blanket falling to the floor in a rumple, and runs a hand through his hair—a failed attempt to somehow flatten it.

 

“Holy , if he disappears again, I’m going to—”

 

Sehun crosses the room in three strides and reaches for the door, yanking it open just as somebody pushes it from the other side, and he loses his balance, falling backwards and what in the world there’s something falling on top of him this is weird and—oh.

 

Oh.

 

“Good morning,” he says quietly, eyes wide as he stares at the boy sprawled on top of him.

 

Luhan holds his gaze for half a minute, expression alarmed, before he gasps and scrambles to get off of Sehun.

 

“Crap, sorry, are you okay?” He asks hurriedly as he pulls Sehun up. “I totally did not mean to do that—I mean, I had no idea you were going to pull open the door the same time I was going to push it okay, so—”

 

“Hyung.”

 

Luhan stops midsentence, and glares at Sehun, seemingly annoyed at being interrupted. “What.”

 

Sehun smiles. “Shut up.”

 

Luhan blinks, a bit surprised, before he scowls. “When did you learn to be so cheeky?”

 

“Learned from the master,” Sehun replies with a grin, heading to his closet and pulling out a fresh t-shirt and jeans. “You.”

 

He winks at Luhan, and Luhan blanches.

 

“Holy—never do that again—you look like a freaking old ert, just don’t please—“ Luhan gasps in between bouts of laughter, clutching his stomach and sinking onto the floor to roll around.

 

When he catches Sehun’s somewhat hurt expression, he begins laughing even harder, gripping onto the edge of the wall to steady himself.

 

“That wasn’t nice,” Sehun pouts as he tugs his shirt over his head.

 

Luhan raises an eyebrow, and opens his mouth, as if to comment, but seems to think better of it and clamps it shut. He turns stiffly away instead.

 

“Uh, I’ll give you a chance to change,” he mutters as he turns to doorknob and moves to leave the room.

 

“I mean, you don’t have to leave? We’re both guy—” Sehun begins to say, but Luhan has already closed the door behind him.

 

Sehun shrugs to himself and puts on a clean shirt. Once he exchanges his sweatpants for his jeans and combs his hair, he opens the door and heads into the hallway again. He stops in his steps when he sees Luhan sitting against the wall, arms around his knees as he watches him. He notices that Luhan’s clothes are fresh, and he looks like he’s been up for a while already.

 

“I went home,” Luhan says when he notices Sehun studying him.

 

“Oh.”

 

Sehun looks down at his socked feet, finally feeling the awkwardness settle in. Last night was a bit of a pivotal point for him, because he finally saw Luhan as Luhan not as Luhan the cheerful high school senior, or Luhan the great soccer captain, or Luhan the perfect heartthrob, or any other Luhan for that matter. He saw the true Luhan, the one his heart beats faster for, the only person who could elicit a joke or two from him, and he feels a little scared of the prospect of something new.

 

“About last night…”

 

Luhan pauses, and Sehun closes his eyes, not sure of what is to come. An uncomfortable feeling settles in his stomach, and he recognizes it as the same feeling as when his father left him, when his mother stopped talking to him, when he had to leave Jongin, when—

 

There’s a bit of shuffling, and then, warm arms wrap around his shoulders.

 

“Thank you.”

 

It’s a soft whisper, a brush of air against his ear, but it worms its way into Sehun’s heart. Luhan has hugged him before—of course he has, he’s just that type of touchy-feely person—but it was never like this. It was never like he wasn’t hugging him with his body, but with his heart—with his soul—with everything that makes up him. Sehun finds that he likes it, and the uncomfortable feeling disappears—replaced with something beautiful, something almost akin to longing. For the first time in a long time, Sehun lifts his arms and hugs Luhan back, pulling him closer to him and burying his face in Luhan’s shoulder.

 

It is a romantic scene—not in the sense of I’m in love with you, but in the sense of my sun stopped shining an eternity ago, but perhaps, it will rise again now that you are here.

 

Perhaps in that moment, they both learned that shattered pieces cannot be mended anew, but they can be pieced together again. Maybe a little clumsily, with missing fragments and uneven edged, and maybe, some pieces are forcefully pushed against each other, but in the end—

 

In the end, you learn that perfection was never reality, and even if it was, it’ll never be as perfect as imperfection.

 

---

 

When Monday arrives, it is a little melancholic. The rest of the weekend passed uneventfully, with Luhan politely refusing to stay for dinner, despite Sehun's mother's urging, and a promise to text Sehun when he gets home.

 

He does, a while into the evening. The text is succinct and terse, a short "I'm okay good luck with hw" blinking up at Sehun through the glare of his phone. Sehun reads and re-reads the words a couple of times before placing his phone face-down on his desk and locking his thoughts away.

 

Sehun spends the rest of Saturday doing his homework, holed up in his room and only leaving to grab some food. His mother has disappeared once again, and Sehun wonders if the image of his mother that had appeared the night before was merely a mirage in the water that shatters with the lightest touch. He finds in a ridiculous revelation that he misses her. Even though she had left so long ago--left with his father--she had returned yesterday, and there was a fresh wave of pain accompanying her silent departure once again.

 

It's easier just to avoid--avoid her, avoid confrontations, avoid emotions, avoid everything in life. It was Sehun's defense mechanism, his artillery that had protected him for so many years. It was the only thing keeping him safe.

 

He doesn't see his mother for the rest of the weekend--not really. Sometimes, in the middle of the night when he gets up for a drink of water, he sees her shadow pass through the corridor and the light shining through the bottom crack of the door. He feels as if he's living with a ghost--a presence that he knows is there, but cannot see.

 

It hurts more than it should, but he's long learned that he could numb it.

 

Just stop thinking.

 

 

 

When he returns to school, the first thing he sees is Park Chanyeol hurtling towards him. Sehun has gotten used to this, and successfully sidesteps him as he tries to tackle Sehun.

 

"SEHUN!" Chanyeol shouts next to his ear.

 

"What?" He mumbles in reply, slightly embarrassed by his friend's behavior.

 

"JUNMYEON CALLS AN EMERGENCY MEETING."

 

"WHY?" For some reason, Sehun feels that it's necessary to match Chanyeol's volume.

 

"....What the hell, why are you yelling at me?" Chanyeol says, an offended look manifesting on his face.

 

Sehun opens his mouth to say something, before realizing that he doesn't know what to say and shrugs lightly.

 

"Ooooookay," Chanyeol says, looking at Sehun like he's the crazy one around here. "Anyways, Junmyeon wants an emergency meeting. Apparently, competition dates have changed or something."

 

"Wait, but I have first period to go to, and we have a qu--"

 

"Yeah, no one cares," Chanyeol interrupts loudly, pushing Sehun towards B226. "Junmyeon already informed all our teachers and stuff."

 

Sehun sighs and concedes, letting Chanyeol guide him all the way to the meeting room. The rest of the team had already arrived when they walk in the doors, and Sehun is shocked to see Luhan propped against the teacher's desk, swinging his legs as he flips through papers.

 

He catches Sehun's eye and smiles.

 

"Alternate," he mouths, and Sehun nods in understanding. Every team always has an extra member, just in case someone falls ill or is unable to attend the competition. Sehun wonders whether Luhan had nagged Junmyeon until he conceded and made him alternate.

 

Sehun takes a seat in the back, and Luhan immediately slides off the table, sidling up to him.

 

"Want a cookie?" Luhan asks, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a huge paper bag. Sehun wonders how he manages to fit his folders and binders in there.

 

"Um."

 

Luhan unrolls the top and shows the insides to Sehun. There’s a mountain of chocolate chip cookies piled inside.

 

"I have a load. Junmyeon gave them to me this morning 'cause he felt sorry or something." Luhan laughs. "He does this every time. Here. Have one."

 

Typical of Luhan, he grabs Sehun's hand and forcefully stuffs it into the bag, grinning brightly when Sehun meekly takes a cookie.

 

"Guys, guys listen up," Junmyeon says, clapping his hands to get the team's attention.

 

Everyone stops talking and looks at him expectantly. Sehun sees Yixing stationed behind the front table Junmyeon was at, idly on a lollipop as he props his feet on the table top. Junmyeon shoots him a look, but Yixing merely grins.

 

"Okay, so I just received an e-mail last night telling me that Round 1 has been moved forward a week, so now it lands on February 14th."

 

"Wait, but that's Valentine's Day," Victoria says suddenly.

 

Junmyeon makes a go on gesture, expression a tad nonplussed.

 

"I'm supposed to be hanging out with my boyfriend. Not stuck making speeches and impromptus to scary looking old ladies," she deadpans.

 

"Yeah...well, to , my friend," Junmyeon says sympathetically, walking over and patting her noncommittally on the shoulder.

 

She shrugs him off and slumps in her seat with an irritated harrumph, pulling out her phone and effectively tuning Junmyeon out as he immediately launches into pep-talk mode.

 

"Remember guys, just because the competition date has been moved up does not mean we will do any worse. We're more than ready. We--what the are you doing Yixing stop using my phone and snapchatting me to my friends.

 

Yixing cackles evilly and snaps another picture, waving Junmyeon's phone in his face.

 

"Leader Suho, hurry up and finish your lame speech," Yixing drawls, tipping the chair back. "I want to get to first period already."

 

"Then go, no one's stopping you! And don't call me that."

 

The entire team snickers as Junmyeon bristles from being called his nickname Suho—guardian, or something like that. Sehun personally thinks it’s a very apt description, since Junmyeon is essentially the mother goose of the group, but Junmyeon himself hates it.

 

"Being the magical unicorn that protects the princess, I must not leave Luhan's side," Yixing says solemnly, raising the phone and taking another picture.

 

Luhan leans out of his chair and shoves Yixing, laughing as the boy flaps his arms and falls out of his seat.

 

“Don’t call me princess—I bet I could beat your ,” Luhan declares, swatting at a grinning Yixing.

 

Yixing doesn’t reply, merely sticking his tongue out as he dodges another slap from Luhan. There’s a little tint of adoration warming his eyes as he smiles, and he meets Sehun’s gaze. He winks, like they share a secret between them, before he grabs his backpack and stands up.

 

“Good day, y’all. I’m going to head to first period before the old hag sends me to the office,” he declares, laughing as he sprints out the door.

 

The team hears a clamor down the hall—Yixing’s voice exclaiming I’m so sorry as he inevitably had hurtled into another student rushing to their first period.

 

Junmyeon glances out the door and sighs, shaking his head.

 

“Anyways,” he begins with some emphasis, gathering the class’s attention again. “Don’t forget. February 14^th, meet at the front door of this school, and we’ll all board the bus 7:30 in the morning. Also, if anyone has not memorized their speech by tomorrow, they’re going to have to run 10 laps around the track while reciting their speech. Just saying.”

 

He waves the class out of the room with a sweet smile that does nothing to mask the gravity behind his threat.

 

Sehun slides on his own backpack, mentally preparing himself for his dreaded Chemistry class. An arm slings around him, and he stops in his tracks, mouth slightly agape as Luhan sidles up next to him.

 

“What’s your first period?” Luhan asks.

 

“Chemistry,” Sehun replies, testing to see if he could shrug off Luhan’s arm. All he warrants is Luhan’s scowl, so he stops, letting Luhan drag him along to the science hall with some resignation

 

“Wait,” Sehun says suddenly, as Luhan reaches out to open the door to his Chemistry class. “Don’t you have to get to your own class?”

 

Luhan grins and points to himself. “Second semester senior, remember?”

 

Sehun narrows his eyes and stops Luhan from opening the door again, crossing his arms.

 

“So you’re just going to ditch all your classes for the rest of the semester?” He asks incredulously. “Is that even allowed?”

 

Luhan picks up on the disapproving tone Sehun halfheartedly tried to hide and grins. “Why? Are you worried for my grades?” He asks, a laugh bubbling from his throat.

 

Sehun frowns. He knows Luhan’s grades wouldn’t be suffering regardless of whether or not he’s attending class, especially so late into the year. At this point, the seniors have already taken their college entrance exams, and the teachers are cutting them some slack since they know the students have worked hard for the last couple of years. But…

 

“Wouldn’t your parents scold you?” Sehun blurts out.

 

Luhan blinks, a little bit surprised by the question. He watches as Sehun shifts his weight awkwardly, as if he had probed into unspeakable territory, and a cloud of fondness pushes its way into his chest. He smiles, relieving Sehun from his oncoming panic attack.

 

“Nah,” he says nonchalantly, waving his hand around. “They care more about the results than the process. You know. As long as I get my straight A’s and keep my record spotless, I can do whatever I want.”

 

“And what you want is to…” Sehun begins, raising an eyebrow as they near the science hallway. They pause in front of his Chemistry classroom, and he gestures to the door skeptically. “Go to my sophomore Chemistry class?”

Luhan grins and pushes the door open. “Oh for sure,” he says ecstatically as he drags Sehun through the doorway. “There is nothing more I want to do in my life.”

 

Sehun lets himself be pulled inside, and when Luhan pauses to look up at him, he sighs and directs the two of them to a lab table near the back of the classroom. Hearing Luhan’s enthusiastic tone and seeing his bright smile, Sehun can almost believe that Luhan really wanted nothing more than to sit next to him in a boring Chemistry class, a subject Luhan excelled in and Sehun—for lack of a better term—royally in.

 

“You want to take notes for me then?” Sehun asks, pushing his Chemistry notebook towards Luhan when they settle down and Luhan lets his backpack drop to the floor with a dull clunk.

 

Luhan rolls his eyes. “Please, the student should be the one doing work. I’m just observing.”

 

Luhan leans as far back as he can on the lab stool for good measure, nodding wisely to himself, and pops a stick of watermelon-flavored gum into his mouth. He blows a bubble, and it bursts just as Sehun’s Chemistry teacher walks by.

 

“’Sup Mr. Ong,” Luhan says cheekily, smacking his gum and utterly ignoring the “No gum on school grounds” rule.

 

Sehun considers hiding himself under the desk for the rest of the period, but all Mr. Ong does is raise an eyebrow and shake his head, as if he wouldn’t have expected anything less from his previous student.

 

“I’m not even going to ask,” Mr. Ong mutters to himself as he spins around and heads back to the front of the class to begin the lecture.

 

Sehun sighs and flips open his notebook, dating and titling the page, and then habitually underlining the title. He ignores Luhan’s snickers, silently resenting him for being so good at the subject, and turns his focus to the front of the room. Mr. Ong begins the class, and once again, Sehun finds himself utterly bewildered about the definitions of Bronsted-Lowry acids and bases.

 

Luhan is surprisingly peaceful and sits quietly, stirring only to nudge Sehun and point at the board to remind him to include units in his calculations. Half an hour into the class, Sehun glances over at Luhan only to see that he has Sehun’s Decathlon binder open and is reading the Music section Joonmyun had declared they were going to be tested on this afternoon.

 

“Pay attention to Mr. Ong,” Luhan whispers out of the corner of his mouth as he turns a page.

 

Sehun jolts, not realizing that he had been blatantly staring at Luhan, and immediately directs his attention back to the board. Somehow, over the past minute where he was preoccupied by Luhan’s profile, Mr. Ong had managed to cover the board with equations and mechanisms that read like alien hieroglyphics to Sehun. He sighs audibly and begins the tedious work of copying from the board.

 

The next time he looks over, Luhan is leaning over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes scan Sehun’s meticulously copied notes. Sehun can still dimly hear Mr. Ong drone on about pKa’s and the concentration of protons and other things he really doesn’t care much about, but the words are drowned out by the sudden pounding in his ears, in tandem with his heartbeat. Whenever he takes a shallow breath, he can smell Luhan’s generic shampoo, and Sehun can’t help but notice how the tuft of Luhan’s hair would brush against his nose if he leaned in a little closer.

 

“Your notes are so neat,” Luhan murmurs, hunching over some more to get a closer look. He reaches out a hand to tug the pencil from Sehun’s grip, and his fingers inadvertently brush against the back of Sehun’s hand.

 

The moment shatters, and Sehun jerks away, dropping the pencil with a clatter as it rolls off the table and onto the floor. He can feel his chest rise and fall sporadically with his breathing, and he knows that Luhan’s eyes are wide with concern, but he directs his own gaze downwards. There’s a repose as Luhan watches Sehun control his breathing, his hand reaching out as if to touch Sehun out of habit, but Sehun sees it hesitate in the air before dropping back into his lap.

 

There’s a slight screech of his stool as Sehun shifts it away from Luhan, leaning down to pick up the pencil. When he straightens back up, he doesn’t bother to move it back to its original position, and instead faces the front and resumes listening to the lecture. Something cataclysmic has happened, and Sehun doesn’t know what it is but he can feel sweat pooling at his palms. Yet, the rest of the world kept on spinning, and once again he’s left in the dust as he tries to catch up.

 

Sehun forces his hand to move and begins to copy what Mr. Ong is saying word for word, though none of it actually registers. He’s hyper aware of Luhan’s presence next to him, the way Luhan hasn’t moved except to lean away from Sehun as if he’s trying to give him space even though he doesn’t understand why. He feels Luhan’s eyes on him, knows that Luhan is still facing him—the goosebumps are rising on his left arm—his vision is blurring and he doesn’t know why—he still hasn’t tuned back into the lecture but somehow his hand is still ing moving and copying down words he doesn’t understand and Luhan is still looking at him probably waiting for an explanation or no, not waiting for an explanation because Luhan knows not to expect that from him right? But he’s probably scrutinizing Sehun right now trying to figure out what he did wrong and oh god what if he thinks Sehun hates him what is wrong with him what if—

 

Luhan shifts. Sehun hears his jacket sleeve brush against the edge of the table. From the periphery of his vision, he sees that Luhan’s facing forward again, head angled slightly downwards and hands clasped on the table in front of him as if he is staring intently at his intertwined fingers.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, and Sehun’s hand stops moving.

 

There’s a hysterical laugh bubbling inside of Sehun, threatening to burst and disrupt the entire class and possibly turn everyone’s attention on him and Sehun ing hates that, but what the , did Luhan just apologize?

 

Why is Luhan sorry, when Sehun is the one messed up? When Sehun is the one who doesn’t know what to do when his chest aches because it’s simultaneously so ing hollow and so ing full? When Sehun is the one who can never keep up with the way the world works, the flurry of emotions and tangle of friendships and relationships and family and—

 

“It’s okay,” Sehun chokes out, fingers tightening on his pencil and pressing it harder against his notebook. The lead breaks under the pressure, and he hears Luhan jump. He doesn’t acknowledge it—just clicks the mechanical pencil twice and continues to jot down notes.

 

Luhan is quiet for the rest of the period. When the bell finally rings, and Mr. Ong stops mid-sentence and eyes the clock at the back of the room with mild annoyance, Sehun lets out a silent breath and pretends that he didn’t feel like he was suffocating and drowning for the past twenty minutes.

 

He braces himself, and then turns towards Luhan, forcing his eyes to meet his.

 

There’s worry in Luhan’s eyes, but there is a small, tentative smile plastered on Luhan’s face.

 

Sehun takes a shaky breath and tries to return the sentiment. He feels it fall short and sees Luhan’s own smile falter.

 

“I’m okay,” he offers, voice a hoarse whisper, and his tone lifts in the end as if he was asking a question.

 

Luhan doesn’t comment, just searches Sehun’s face and gives him a nod.

 

“I actually have to get to my next class—Mrs. Kang expects all seniors to be there,” Luhan says instead. Then, he tilts his head in question. “But I’ll see you after school?”

 

“Yeah,” Sehun replies.

 

Luhan smiles a smile a shade more genuine and slides off the metal stool. “Cool, see you then.”

 

Sehun remains sitting and examines his grimy shoelaces, but he nods. He hears Luhan reach down for his backpack and sling it over one shoulder. There is a small pause, and then Luhan turns and takes a step towards the door.

 

I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I’m—

 

Sehun grabs the edge of Luhan’s jacket sleeve and feels Luhan still. He raises his gaze, eyes focusing on Luhan’s gentle, kind face. His ever-present smile is still there, and Sehun briefly wonders if Luhan ever gets tired of smiling and pretending that every piece of the universe is in place. Because oh god, he does, he does so much, and he can’t forget the reddened corners of Luhan’s eyes, the way his ribcage almost seemed to collapse under the weight of his sobs, the way Sehun’s heart lurched at the thought of Luhan handling all that unspoken pain on his own and stuffing it into a tiny corner of his brain. Sehun’s mouth opens and he’s terrified of what’s going to come out of it because his brain-to-mouth filter has utterly dissolved in Luhan’s presence, and all Sehun wants Luhan to know is that he’s so thankful for him and he has no idea why his brain and body works like this and why he is crazy, but he wants Luhan to be okay with that kind of crazy because that kind of crazy is Sehun.

 

“I’m sorry,” is what Sehun ends up saying.

 

I’m sorry you had to say sorry to fix what I messed up—can’t be there when you need me to—function like a normal person—I don’t know what’s going on in my own brain—how to put all of this into words.

 

Sehun looks at Luhan beseechingly, as if he could make Luhan understand the mess in his brain through his gaze only, even though he, himself, had no clue how to begin to untangle the knot in his mind.

 

Luhan doesn’t say anything, just looks at Sehun a little confused, a little curious, and after a moment, Sehun drops his gaze and begins to let go of Luhan’s sleeve.

 

Luhan catches Sehun’s hand in his, and when he pulls away by habit, Luhan tightens his grasp.

 

“Don’t say sorry,” Luhan says, and his tone makes Sehun look up.

 

The look in his eyes is fierce, maybe a little angry, and his eyebrows are furrowed, and the grip on Sehun’s hand is too tight and almost bordering on painful. But when Luhan finally loosens his hand and moves away, Sehun imperceptibly leans forwards as if seeking the contact.

 

“Don’t ever say sorry,” Luhan repeats. He reaches out to ruffle Sehun’s hair—a familiar gesture—and then leaves Sehun sitting on the stool in a nearly empty class room, the sound of Mr. Ong shuffling papers from a corner of the room the only thing to remind Sehun that yes, the world is still spinning and that he had to get to his next class.

 

Luhan’s expression swims in Sehun’s mind as he runs from the science hallway to the humanities department, and he wonders maybe, just maybe, Luhan had glimpsed a part of his cluttered brain and could make some sense of it. Maybe, Luhan is willing to put in the effort to understand the rest of his mind as well, and maybe along the way, Sehun will be able to understand too.

 

 

 

_________

A/N: It's been so long. Hello, again.