The box of cigarettes lay invitingly in the middle of the table, tempting Sehun despite its frayed edges and soggy cardboard cover.

He picked up the box, slender index finger running over the front cover and smudging the already illegible English lettering.

Nostalgia flooded through his body as he recalled the nights they’d spent smoking together, leaning on the dorm’s rickety balcony, talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

They’d been leaning on each other, too.

The box seemed to lay heavier in his cupped hands whenever Sehun thought of him. It grew almost unbearable as time passed, becoming heavier as steadily as the weight that he had left on Sehun’s shoulders.

He had thought they were in love. At least, they were in love in his memories – the same memories that had begun to fade over the years, drifting away like wisps of smoke as gray as the strands of hair he’d discovered this morning.

It may have only been a decade since he left, but to Sehun, it felt like eons had passed since he’d last felt the cold metal of the lighter in his hands.

Since he’d felt the warmth of the other boy’s hands in his own.

Since he’d had a conversation with someone about anything other than work, his schedule, his career, or his future. They had always had the most random conversations; giggling like high school girls over celebrity gossip and searching the web for pictures of Miranda Kerr in a bikini – no matter that they were both gay, they’d agreed, she could turn any guy straight.

A rare smile lifted up the corners of Sehun’s lips as he recalled the oh-so-typical complaints they’d had as teenagers, all the sighs that had left their pouty lips and the dramatic expressions they had put on for the screaming crowds.

Now he finally understood what pain meant.  He wished the other boy’s power was real, and they could turn back the time to the days when they were all together.

Ah. EXO. Sehun shook his head at the fond memories they’d had together, both of them unbelieving even after their debut that they were making the music they had grown up moving their bodies to, that they were the idols they had so long admired.

And then he had left. All of them had been hurt, hearts having been broken twice already.

But no one had spilled as many tears as Sehun. He scoffed lightly as he remembered the stoic, expressionless image SM had built for him.

How ironic.

How utterly ironic it seemed now, after his secretly passionate and emotional personality had been dulled to match the public image.

How ironic that he had been crushed to the ground by the one person who had encouraged him to spread his wings and touch the sky.

Sehun’s hands trembled around the lighter, nearly dropping it as his shoulders suddenly shook with sobs. Never had he expected that he would end up so wrecked.

After all of the ‘I love you’s and soft kisses they’d shared, all of the love they’d given each other, all of the times they’d held each other when there was no one else to hold on to…No.

Sehun couldn’t accept that. But he had never called the other boy. He had never asked, why, how, he had let go so easily, because Sehun knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the answer.

Now, sitting on the floor of the same rickety old balcony a full decade later, Sehun decided that he was ready for the answer. Wiping the tears off of his face and pulling out his phone with shaky hands, Sehun knew it was time.

Slowly opening the packaging of the box and removing the last of its contents, a single cigarette, Sehun flicked the lighter and lifted the cigarette to his lips.

As he dialed the number he had never forgotten and prayed for a response, Sehun took a long drag in an attempt to calm his nerves. He was out of practice, though, and in the midst of his choking cough he nearly missed the soft chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Still haven’t mastered my tricks yet, have you?” the other boy said in a playful tone.

Sehun stopped coughing abruptly at the sound of the voice he hadn’t heard in so long. His heart beat so wildly he thought it would burst out of his chest as he processed the boy’s words.

There was no mistaking it.

In a voice so soft that he could barely hear himself, Sehun replied, “…Tao?”

“Sehun,” Tao said in a still playful tone.

Sehun swallowed, his throat unexpectedly dry as he prepared himself to ask the one question that had been eating him alive since their separation.

“…why?”

“What?” Tao asked confusedly, playful tone fading from his voice.

Sehun sighed in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. This idiot will never change.

“Why did you leave EXO?” he asked dejectedly. “Why did you leave me?”

He heard Tao make a defeated noise from the other end before speaking.

“I had to, Sehun.” Said boy opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off as Tao continued to speak. “I had to get away from everything that was holding me back. I never meant for everything to end the way it did, but I couldn’t help it. Just know that…despite what everyone said, I loved EXO, I loved the stage, I loved the fans…and I loved you.”

Sehun’s breath caught in his throat and he struggled to respond. “Loved?” he asked in a thick voice.

“Yes,” Tao whispered, “Loved.”

Loved, he said. Not love. Loved.

Although it seemed that the other boy’s feelings had long since faded – unlike his own – Sehun still understood. He, too, had suffered, but far less than the Chinese boy.

“Sehun?” Tao’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Hello? Are you still there?”

Sehun broke himself out of his thoughts and responded, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m still here.”

Tao let out a relieved breath. “Okay, good. I thought you had hung up on me.”

Sehun chuckled bitterly before replying, “Like you hung up on me the night before you left?”

There was silence. Sehun felt an amused smile creep up on his face as he pondered the possibility that Tao had fallen asleep. Suddenly, he heard a soft sound coming from his phone.

Click.

A lighter.

Then the sound of someone breathing in deeply. At the sound, Sehun picked up his own forgotten cigarette and took another long drag.

As they let the smoke filter through their lips, both men finally understood.

“I’m sorry.” They whispered in unison, voices thick with emotion and filled with the words they had so desperately wanted to tell each other.

Sehun stared at the now empty cardboard box, lips curling around the familiar English word as he spoke.

“Marlboro?”

He almost could see Tao’s smile through the receiver as the other man replied, “Marlboro.”

And then he was free, the weight of life drifting away like the smoke from his last cigarette.