It was moments like these when minseok wished time would stop – just him and luhan under the sheets, his head on luhan’s chest and he could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. It’s lulling him to sleep but he doesn’t want to close his eyes just yet, because if he did, all of this would be gone.

Luhan would be gone.

He doesn’t want that.

So he keeps his eyes open and stares at luhan’s sleeping face; it’s deceptive. He looks so peaceful but minseok knows he feels anything but, not with how things are right now. Not with the management still under fire from the multiple issues and scandals of the year. And he knows that a few hours later the company’s going to be put into that same fire once more. A few hours later, luhan would be filing for his permanent leave from the company and from the group.

Luhan would be gone.

He never thought a time like that would come. Being an idol isn’t permanent – they’ll eventually grow up, the Korean members would go into the army one by one, and slowly their time as an idol group would come to an end. The members will eventually part ways and do their own thing, but he didn’t expect it to happen this fast and he certainly didn’t expect for it to be luhan.

Out of all the members, he thought luhan was the least likely to leave, so when the boy came to him a month before and told him he plans to nullify his contract with the agency, minseok was beyond shocked. He was in complete and utter disbelief and would have stayed that way if it weren’t for luhan looking at him with such a pained expression. He knows the boy was hurting so much too – he knows this wasn’t an easy decision – so he nods, a small tip of the head, and says I understand even if he doesn’t completely.

He’s not in any position to stop luhan from going; he may be his boyfriend but that doesn’t entitle him the right to control luhan’s life, and even if he did, that would be selfish of him. That’s not something he wants to be. So he stays in place and tightens his embrace on the sleeping boy, praying that morning wouldn’t come so soon.

“[BREAKING] Luhan files for contract termination against SM Entertainment”

“[BREAKING NEWS] Luhan leaves EXO”

“EXO member Luhan files lawsuit to leave the group”

It’s starting. The drama from five months before is coming back even harsher – or at least that was what minseok felt. He’s trying to stay strong, for himself and for the members, for the fans. Even when he feels like dying inside, he has to stay strong for them. If he breaks down now, what would that say to them? So he holds it in; whatever pain or loneliness he’s feeling, he holds all of that in. It is better they don’t know. But who is he kidding really; everyone probably knows how difficult his situation is right now.

Luhan is back in China. He texted minseok the minute he landed, and minseok sighs in relief. As much as he’s worried about their situation right now, he feels even more worried for the boy – flights always stressed him out. He closes his eyes, imagining the sight that luhan is looking at. He’s probably ecstatic to be back home; minseok felt it when they were talking last night, that even though it pained him to leave minseok in Korea, his longing to go back to his home country seeped through.

Minseok felt like crying.

Jongdae catches minseok one night, staring at the window, face blank and steeled. He feels sorry for him – something he or the other members will never say outright – it’s been weeks since luhan left, and although it still stings, they’re coping. They’ve dealt with this before, but unlike before, this exit was more acceptable to them; it was a bit easier.

They know about the fight that recently went on between the two, because yixing knows and his mouth rattles on uncontrollably, so now they know. They’ve been extra careful around minseok, careful not to mention anything even remotely close to him remembering luhan. But tonight feels different.

“Are you alright?” jongdae asked, his eyes failing to hide the worry he feels for the eldest.

He’s starting to hate it – the concerned faces, the pitying looks they think minseok doesn’t see, the careful tones they use on him because they think he’s going to break if they did otherwise.

“Yeah.” They’re right.

The younger man looked at him, seemingly not satisfied with his answer, and asked once more, “are you sure?”

“I am.” I hope so. “Don’t worry too much about me.”

Jongdae hates how minseok keeps pretending, even until now, even when things kept getting harder for him; this wasn’t their first fight after luhan left, he knows as much. And although minseok doesn’t tell them about it, jongdae feels – he knows – that all those quarrels boil down to luhan not being here anymore. He doesn’t know who he pities more now.

“You know luhan didn’t want this. He would have stayed with us for as long as possible if it wasn’t for his health and the way management was–”

“I know jongdae.” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, especially not to this kid. He was only trying to help, trying to reassure and comfort his hyung because that’s the only thing he can do right now.

You’re going to be okay.

Everything’s going to be fine.

Maybe if minseok says those words over and over again it might come true.

They broke up. It’s not like they don’t love each other anymore – they still do, so much – but with the way things are right now it’d be hard to continue their relationship. It sounds as if he’s giving up, as if he’s tired and he doesn’t want anymore baggage weighing him down, and luhan can’t blame him. He admits it’s his fault; if he’d been stronger, if he just bore through it a little more, this wouldn’t have happened. So as much as it pains the both of them, they break up.

It’s been a while since they’ve been to China; he doesn’t know when it happened but the place feels foreign to him again. Minseok feels thankful that he isn’t alone, that the whole group is with him for this schedule – he doesn’t trust himself not to choke up. And he hasn’t yet, from the time they learned that they were coming here to the time the plane landed. He was okay, he felt okay. But then a slight commotion behind him catches his attention and he sees sehun holding on to their manager, sniffling.

He wanted to laugh; just when he taught he was safe from thoughts of luhan, his stupid poster from his stupid movie had to be pasted over the airport lobby. He wished he hadn’t seen them. He wished he didn’t look to their youngest in the first place. Now he has to keep his hat down lower to prevent people from seeing the tears forming in his eyes, threatening ever so hard to fall down and show to the world how minseok still suffers.

It was a lazy day when minseok gets a text from an unknown number. It doesn’t surprise him anymore; he doesn’t know how they do it but it seems people have a way of getting their numbers. He means to ignore it, as he always does, but today he chooses to read it, he doesn’t have anything better to do at the moment anyway. The first word alone let him know exactly who sent that text and minseok thinks it is rather unfair for him to do that. He hasn’t called him that since they broke up late last year and minseok wished luhan already forgot his pet name for him because it just brings to mind a hundred different memories and months of tears and loneliness. Minseok doesn’t want to keep hurting anymore. So he turns off his phone without finishing the message and tries to calm down his emotions – inhale, exhale – the way he learned to back in October.

They were in the middle of practice for their concert, a new one not long after The Lost Planet ended. Minseok feels as if he could pass out any moment from exhaustion, his eyes feeling so heavy from the lack of sleep. He doesn’t complain though. He’s used to it by now and it’s not as if he doesn’t enjoy his job. He knows as well that once he goes on stage, all the nights and days of being cooped up in the practice room would be worth it; the smiles on their fan’s faces, the loud cheers, the glowing lights – he looks forward to that the most.

On concert days, minseok feels nervous and giddy. Each one ends in success – with smiles on their faces, sweat dripping down, and hearts pounding loudly. Minseok thinks he’s getting better, and he is. But there are times when he looks to his side, trying to find luhan because something peculiar or funny in the audience caught his attention and he’s so eager to share it with him, and he doesn’t find those doe eyes. During numbers where they could freely run around the stage and play, he longs for the arm around his shoulders, the hand entwined with his own – he misses throwing confetti on luhan’s face and chasing after him when he slaps his rather strongly. He misses him when they sing songs and minseok knows that luhan would sing next but he doesn’t hear his voice, and he feels a pang on his chest and tears stinging his eyes but it passes. It passes over time, and minseok is thankful.

He heard from yixing that luhan has been doing well. His health took a turn for the better and he had even set up his own studio in China; shows, films, endorsements, songs – all of that was lined up for him. Minseok thinks of how great luhan must be feeling right now, and he is shocked all over when he realizes how genuinely happy he is for him. He hadn’t felt that in a long time.

Minseok is anxious. After the announcement of their sub-unit debut, and the overwhelming response from their fans and the public, minseok thinks he has to work even harder now; he has to put on a perfect stage for this. So even after their group practice has ended an hour ago, he is still down in the practice room working on details – he especially doesn’t want to lag behind his two other members, him being the eldest also means he has to set an example.

The music played on for long and by the time minseok called it quits, the clock already read 2:15AM. He lies down on the floor, chest heaving up and down trying to catch his breath. His eyes, which were about to fall, snaps open at the vibration of his phone. Minseok tries to think of someone sane enough to be up at this hour but his mind is too tired and he doesn’t care anymore.

He checks his phone and sees a number he hadn’t talked to for over a year, and his heart jumps in his chest in scared anticipation. I heard about your unit debut. Congratulations in advance. Minseok pauses from reading and sits up from his position, the tiredness he felt before gone from his system all too soon. I know you are probably still awake and practicing. Don’t tire yourself too much. It makes him smile – a sad one, a happy one, he’s not quite sure which it is – that even after all this time, luhan still knows him too well. He doesn’t know whether he should reply or not – he is not exactly sure what to say or if luhan’s message even needs an answer. Would saying ‘thank you’ be enough?

Just as he’s agonizing over what to say, a second text appears. I’m heading to Korea tomorrow for a vacation. Would it be okay to meet up? Now, minseok thinks his heart will burst from his chest. He thinks of all the days he has spent after luhan left – crying ‘til he falls asleep, walking through the day in a lifeless daze, sudden surge of anger, longing, acceptance, finally being able to sincerely smile and laugh again. He thinks of all the happy memories they spent – coffee dates, shopping dates, soccer matches, lounging on the couch playing xbox on the tv, falling asleep wrapped in each other’s arms – and decides that it’d be a waste to let that go, despite what happened to them. So he sends him a text saying they could meet at their favorite coffee shop tomorrow at three; he hopes luhan still remembers what and where that is.

Minseok arrives exactly on time but it doesn’t startle him when he finds luhan seated at their usual spot, two cups of steaming coffee ready for the both of them. He remembers. Minseok walks up to him, heart not about ready and beating loudly in his chest. He calls luhan’s name when he’s close, and when the boy looked up at him, minseok thinks if he had ever really forgotten him – his eyes, his smile, his crooked bottom row; at that moment, he doubts his love for the boy ever really faded. Because his breath got caught in his throat and his heart is constricting and it felt quite like the first time minseok realized he was in love with him. He stands frozen in place, not sure of what to say or how to act, but luhan says hey like they’ve never really been apart and minseok could feel his shoulders relaxing and the corner of his lips turning up.

Despite everything that happened in between, and despite what minseok believed at first, he’s still in love with him.