Suho, with his infinite patience and calming voice, was worth his weight in gold.

Literally.

Luhan was lurking now, angling towards a back room in the building where he and Sehun had rented a hall for their gathering, trying to make sure he could hear what was going on. But he still wanted to keep mostly out of sight, so he didn’t distract either Suho or Youri.

Further in the room the two of them were seated in two lone chairs near the biggest window the space had to offer, with Suho leaning towards Youri, tilting his iPad in her direction. She was practically lunging off her chair to see it properly, with her tiny feet kicking down in a distracted way.

Her face was still splotchy from crying. That was what Luhan could see best from where he was. Youri’s eyes were still tinted red, and her cheeks were patchy with the color as well. It was all the more proof that even though she was sitting quietly now, moments earlier she’d been screaming bloody murder.

And Youri was not a crier. Not really, and she never had been. She wasn’t he type of child who cried for attention. In a lot of ways, Luhan could tell that Youri found crying ineffective and a waste of time. She cried well enough when she fell and skinned her knees, or when she was frustrated and upset. But she wasn’t a crier for attention grabbing reasons. Honestly, most of the time she should have been crying, she still didn’t.

Youri was also terribly determined and focused. If she fell down, she got right up. Tears were almost a secondary thought for her.

Bu when she did cry, oh did she cry.

And that was what had happened the moment Youri had started searching for Sehun, and had realized that he was gone. By the time Luhan had been trying to tell her that he’d be back after a short trip, she was letting all hell loose.

First and foremost, Youri was independent. She was curious and self-contained. She could keep herself busy for hours at a time, and seemed content with her own adventures built solely on her own imagination.

But when she wanted her parents, when she needed Luhan himself or Sehun, there was no dissuading her.

So naturally she’d started crying at the idea of Sehun being gone for almost a week. And the cries had turned to shouts, which had turned to screams, which had all culminated with Youri throwing herself down on the ground and turning into a veritable monster.

Suho had come sweeping in like a guardian angel, willing to hold her and rock her and shush her until she calmed down enough to take in even breaths and sob out what was wrong.

Now the enemy, Luhan had been forced to confess the entire thing to Suho, and it all ended up feeling terrible and frustrating.

Suho had said, “You should have said something earlier about Sehun leaving,” but Luhan hadn’t know if Suho meant to him, or to Youri.

Now Suho and Youri were in their own world, and Luhan was just thankful the crying had stopped.

He could hear Suho saying, “And look, look here, this is where the plane is going to fly. Follow my finger, all the way over here. That’s a long way, right?”

Youri nodded, bangs falling to her gaze. She pushed away at them absently and asked, “How big is daddy’s plane?”

The baby thundering inside of him, Luhan rubbed at his side. His concern for Youir had gotten the baby all worked up, and Luhan’s kidney was taking the brunt of it.

“Of course it’s big,” Suho said evenly. “Do you remember when you and your parents came to see me in New York? You flew on a big plane then.”

“No,” Youri said with awe, shaking her head.

Suho insisted, “Well, it’s a very big plane, I promise you. And it goes very high in the sky.”

Youri put a serious hand on Suho’s knee and leveled, “But the plane comes back, right?”

Suho lowered his head to bump his forehead against her’s gently. “Of course the plane comes back. Your daddy is going to be back home before you even realize it. And if you’re very good while he’s away, I promise you that we can fly on a plane together soon.”

Youri’s hand shot up into the air. “Way up here?”

“Higher,” Suho insisted.

Quietly, from his side, a soft, female voice interrupted to say, “He’s really very good with her, isn’t he?”

Luhan turned to see Suho’s girlfriend, standing not too far away. She too had a good angle on what was taking place in the room.

“He’s always been good with her,” Luhan said lowly, turning away from the scene as not to interrupt.

Emily gave a slight nod, a pensive look on her face.

Tentatively, Luhan asked, “Are you okay? Everyone is being nice to you, aren’t they?” Luhan would flail anyone who was mean to her, especially since she had proven time and time again that she was caring and considerate.

“Everyone has been very nice,” she assured. Then she questioned, “They have a close relationship, don’t they?”

Luhan wasted no time replying, “Suho was the first person to want Youri.” He fought past the lump in his throat and admitted, “Even before I was sure I wanted her, Suho did. He was always there for me when I was pregnant with her, and next to myself and Sehun, Suho has been the strongest example in her life of what a man truly looks like. A good man.”

Something pulled at the corners of , and she let slip, “I hope he’s as good with her as he is with our own child.”

Eyes going wide, Luhan asked, “Are you …”

She blurted out something in English with an adorably awkward laugh and said to him in Korean, “No, no. Definitely not pregnant.” She needed another second to compose herself. “There’s no baby for us yet.”

Carelessly, Luhan commented, “I’m not sure why you aren’t married yet.”

Something shifted on her face, something less guarded emerged, and she looked almost a little sad.

“Emily?”

She wet her lips and admitted, “He asked.”

Luhan’s eyes jetted down to her ring finger that was bare.

She surprised him then by saying, “I turned him down.”

Luhan felt floored. “You said no?” She’d said no? “You actually said no when he asked?”

“He asked months ago,” she said sadly, and now Luhan knew what the look on her face meant. It was regret. “And it was wonderful, you know? It was romantic. He was very American about it.”

“American?”

Emily nodded. “The way I understand it, here in Korea an engagement is something more formal, or scheduled even. It occurs after both parties and families have already decided to get married.”

Luhan laughed a little and said, “Sehun and I didn’t really have an engagement. But then again, we did things out of order. And by the time we decided it was the moment to get married, we just sort of did it. No wait.”

Fondness was pouring out of Emily when she said, “He took me to my favorite restaurant, and he got us the best table in the house. He’d brought me roses before that. And then he gave this long speech about how he saw our future, and what he hoped it would be. Then a waiter brought out desert with the ring.” Her eyes skittered away abashedly. “He proposed, and I said no.”

Luhan had to ask, “Why?”

Her Korean was still shaky, but he could understand her completely when she said, “Because I was scared. That’s the only answer there is to give. I was scared. So I said no, and told him I wasn’t ready. I told him I didn’t think we were ready as a couple. That was a lie, but I said it anyway, because I was scared.”

“Are you less scared now?” Luhan wondered.

Her head tilted a little and she supposed, “I don’t think so. I’m just as scared things won’t work out, or too much will change, or we’ll end up like my parents in a bitter divorce case that last the better part of three years. But I love him more than I’m scared of the bad that might happen. So I’m kind of hoping he’ll ask again.”

Luhan looked back to where Suho had abandoned the iPad that he’d been showing to Youri moments ago. Now Suho was fixing her hair, settling her barrettes back into place, and smoothing down her bangs. He was talking in a low voice about how pretty she looked, and how much of a princess she was.

Youri declared, “I’m a monster princess!”

And Suho indulged, “You’re the best monster princess I ever saw.”

“I really want him to ask again,” Emily said.

Luhan cracked a smile in her direction and said, “Suho’s pretty much head over heels in love with you. You’re the one for him. I can tell. So can Sehun. So if I were you, I wouldn’t be too worried about Suho changing his mind about wanting to marry you.”

Pensively, Emily asked, “So just be patient? Wait it out?”

Luhan arched an eyebrow. “Who says you have to wait for him to ask you. You love him, don’t you? If he asked now, you’d say yes, right? So don’t stand on circumstance or tradition. You should ask him.”

“I should ask him,” she repeated slowly. “I should ask him to marry me.”

Luhan asked, “What says you can’t?”

To that, she didn’t seem to have a good answer.

In the room, Luhan could hear Youri asking, “Will daddy bring me a present?”

“Of course he will,” Suho returned effortlessly. Then he scooped Youri up into his arms and was heading directly towards Luhan.

“Thank you,” Luhan said when Suho was close enough. These were the moments when Luhan was reminded of how difficult it was having Suho far away, and not just on Sehun. “She wasn’t going to calm down for me.”

“You’re a big girl, right?” Suho asked, hitching Youri up a little on his hip.

Youri gave a deep nod.

“It wasn’t anything that couldn’t be handed,” Suho told Luhan. “You okay?” It was a loaded question.

“I’m fine,” Luhan said instinctively.

Suho made to say something else, to probably call him out on his generic answer, when Youri broke in, “Miss Emily, I’m gonna fly in a plane. Have you?”

“How about we give you a second,” Suho said quietly to Luhan. “I know you’ve been going a million miles a second for probably too long. Emily and I will take Youri into the main room, I think Baekhyun, Taeyeon and Ahra are here already, and you give yourself a moment to breathe.”

Luhan hadn’t known how badly he needed that until Suho offered.

Youri slid down to the ground and held a hand out to Emily as the older woman said, “I have flow before, Youri.”

“Where?” Youri asked, head back at a comical angle to talk to her.

“I flew to get here,” Emily said, taking Youri down the hall.

Suho waited until they were some distance to ask again, “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s okay if you’re not, you know.”

Inherently, Luhan knew they were talking about Sehun. He told Suho, “Sehun will be back soon enough. I think I can survive a week without him, even with my daughter having a meltdown.”

Suho chuckled. “She’s getting older now, and better at controlling her emotions, but it’s moments like these when I realize how little she still is.”

Luhan stared after her. “She’s growing up fast, that’s true. But you’re right, she’s still young.”

Suho’s hand grazed his stomach and said, “I can hardly believe this is baby number two now. You and Sehun are about to have your hands very, very full.”

Cracking a smile, Luhan hoped that Emily took his advice and asked Suho to marry her, instead of waiting.

“I just need a second,” Luhan promised. “I’ll be coming right after you. Make sure the whole room hasn’t dissolved into chaos, will you?”

Suho winked at him. “No promises, right?”

When Suho turned the corner and went fully out of sight, Luhan let himself lean on a nearby wall. He took several breaths to try and compose himself, and for the first time in a while, had a moment just to himself.

He didn’t wait too long, however. It was probably twenty minutes away from when the party was supposed to start, and Luhan had it on good authority that the last of the food would be there any second. Luhan desperately wanted to make a short speech before everyone started the process of falling into a food coma.

He was nearly back to the main room when Luhan’s ears caught the sound of Xiumin’s voice. It was soft, and Luhan could have missed it easily. But there was a vulnerability to the sound of his voice, and something akin to trepidation. Luhan was following the sound of it before he even made a conscious decision to.

The building that Luhan had rented the party hall in was large, and almost like a maze with the different hallways that branched out and led to dozens of other rooms. It was so expansive that Luhan nearly lost the direction of Xiumin’s voice.

He was almost ready to give up when he heard it again.

Xiumin wasn’t alone, when Luhan found him. He was tucked away in a back room, too, and Wei was with him.

Feeling even more like a lurker than before, Luhan hesitate outside of the cracked door, watching the way Wei was leaning into Xiumin’s personal space, the shorter of the two of them already backed up against the wall. Wei’s impressive height made it look like he was bamboozling Xiumin into the position, but it wasn’t as if Xiumin was incapable of defending himself or warding off unwanted position. In fact, if Luhan had to put money down between Xiumin and Wei, he was going with Xiumin.

Smaller details gave the situation away, too. A second later and Luhan saw the way Wei’s hand was cupping the side of Xiumin’s face tenderly, but certainly without any force. And those were Xiumin’s fingers gripping at Wei’s waist, definitely pull him in and not pushing him away.

“I’m not good at this,” Xiumin said, voice shaking a bit. It was the most uncertain Luhan had heard Xiumin sound in a long, long time. “I’m not even sure what this is.”

Wei, replied, “This? Us?”

Xiumin huffed.

Luhan took a half step backwards, not wanting to interrupt. This was a private conversation, and he didn’t want to embarrass anyone by being caught listening.

“Of course this. Us,” Xiumin said sharply. “This thing we’re doing. I don’t know how to do it.”

“Trust me,” Wei said, “you’re doing just fine.”

Luhan held still when Xiumin nearly snapped, “Stop, just stop. Okay. Stop making light of this. Something is happening here, something is happening between us, and I don’t know what it is. But you making jokes about this isn’t helping. I’m having real feelings for you and I’m standing here trying to tell you that I don’t know if I’m just wasting my time with someone who only wants to have a good time, of if this is the start of something real.”

Wei didn’t have a smart answer then.

“I mean it,” Xiumin continued, this time much more softly. “I don’t know how to do any of this very well. I don’t date. I don’t … take chances on people.”

Suddenly, Wei said, “I deflect.” Luhan could see where Wei’s hand was along the curve of Xiumin’s jaw. “That’s what I do. I deflect with sarcasm whenever something gets too heavy. And I do it all to cover the fact that I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. This included.”

Luhan knew Wei well enough to hear the honesty in his voice immediately.

“Then this is something we’re doing?” Xiumin asked.

Laughing wryly, Wei told him, “I’m kind of a serial dater. Don’t tell Luhan, okay? He’ll turn those dad eyes on me and I’ll never live it down. But yeah, I’m a serial dater. I date like crazy, a new person every couple of months.”

Roughly, Xiumin asked, “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

Wei ignored him to say, “I date so much because I’m afraid to let people get close. I’m afraid to put my heart on the line and get it broken.”

“Oh,” Xiumin breathed out.

“But you,” Wei said, pushing himself further down into Xiumin’s personal space. “You’re the first person I haven’t wanted to run from since …well, since ever. Minseok. You … you make me feel like I’m strong enough to risk everything.”

Luhan took another step away. This definitely wasn’t a conversation he had any right imposing on.

“I work a lot,” Xiumin said almost defensively.

Wei countered, “I’m in Korea for six months for sure, but I don’t know about after. Maybe I’ll have a reason to stick around. Maybe I’ll need to get out.”

Luhan was almost too far away when he heard Xiumin say, “Then this is what we’re doing? We’re giving it a go? We’re trying?”

“Actually,” Wei said, “I’m kissing you. Yep. I’m sure that’s what I’m doing right now. I mean after? After we’re totally doing this thing with us. But right now, I’m definitely kissing you.”

A smile bust onto Luhan’s face and he took himself as quickly from the location as quickly as possible. He didn’t think there was any way knowing what would happen with Wei and Xiumin in the future. Maybe it was just a fling. Maybe they’d end up not working out. Maybe they’d end up married.

No matter what, Luhan though they certainly deserved the chance they were willing to take in the moment, and Luhan was determined to support them all the way through until the end.

“There you are!” Tao said loudly when Luhan made it into the main room.

“Here I am,” Luhan returned to him with a grin.

He let his eyes sweep the room. Most everyone was present and accounted for, and Luhan almost couldn’t believe that he’d done it. He’d managed to get an amazing amount of people, who all led hectic lives, in one place at the same time. And they were all chatting happy with each other, getting along like there’d never been any passage of time at all.

“I was promised food,” Tao said accusatory. “There is going to be food, right?”

Luhan replied, “Of course there’s going to be food. I just want you to focus and actually pay attention, before you start inhaling it all. Deal?”

Tao shrugged easily enough. “Deal.”

Luhan wove his way through the crowd to get a better look at Youri, after that. She and Ahra, under Baekhyun’s supervision, had been set up at a special table all their own, and were busy using crayons to color across sheets of paper and thankfully not the table itself.

“Not bad,” Baekhyun remarked to him, more kindness in his voice than Luhan though he probably wanted to shine through. So many years later and Baekhyun was still a tough shell most of the time. “You just might be some kind of miracle worker.

“No,” Luhan laughed, “just determined.” He looked from Baekhyun to Taeyeon and told them, “Thanks for finding the time to come.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Taeyeon insisted.

Baekhyun shrugged. “We had the time.” Taeyeon pinched him hard, and Baekhyun told her sharply, “Of course we wanted to come. Tae, he knows we wanted to come.” Baekhyun looked to him. “You know we wanted to come, right?”

“I know you wanted to come,” Luhan parroted back. Baekhyun looked triumphant, and Taeyeon just rolled her eyes at their antics.

Just under his breath, Baekhyun added, “It’s not bad at all.”

Luhan counted that as a win.

Five minutes later Wei and Xiumin were slipping into the room, lips red likely from kissing, and the last stragglers were just behind them.

“Sorry, sorry,” Chen said, sneaking his way into the room after Luhan had finally gotten the courage up to address everyone present. He slid into a seat between Kris and Kai. He said by way of excuse, “I had to make a call. An important one.” He didn’t elaborate after that, and Luhan didn’t push.

A frown on his face, D.O., who had barely been able to confirm at the last second that he could make it, asked, “Where’s Sehun?”

“You’re right,” Kris voiced, looking around.

All eyes went to Luhan, and it felt as if his stomach had given out. He wanted to speak—to say anything, but all of the sudden his words were gone. And his heart was racing now.

Of course it was Suho to the rescue.

In a nonchalant way, Suho pointed out, “Chanyeol’s gone too. It’s deliberate. I spoke to the both of them earlier, and Luhan as well. There was an emergency at work that Sehun and Chanyeol had no choice but to attend to. They’re going to miss this meeting.”

Baekhyun snorted loudly. “Sehun goes through all this trouble to get us together, and he can’t even show up.”

“He had to go,” Luhan said, and he hadn’t realized how sharp and downright mean his tone was, until Baekhyun was jerking back in his seat a little with an apology.

Suho reiterated, “It was an emergency.”

“He regrets not being here,” Luhan said, finding a calmer tone.

After a few awkward moments of silence, Kai spoke up, “Come on guys, this is a good thing. Have you seen how much Chanyeol eats? He’s a monster. A human garbage disposal. And Sehun isn’t far behind in that category.”

An easy chuckle passed among them, and Luhan felt infinitely better.

“It’s okay,” Suho said, looking Luhan dead in the eyes. “It’s just fine.”

At that, Luhan cleared his throat and said, “Before the food gets here, I just want to say a couple of words to you all.”

He took a look out at his best friends, his family, and the people who meant the most to him in the world. They were spread out all over the place, and had lives and families of their own, but they were still the same people who had been there as pillars of support in a trying time. And Luhan loved them all dearly.

“Sehun and I talk about you all more often than you probably think,” Luhan started out, encourage by the attention on him. “When things are quiet, and we have a couple minutes to ourselves, we think about you guys. And more importantly, we think about what you mean to us.”

Baekhyun warned, “Don’t you start crying.”

One table away, Xiumin said, “He can cry if he wants. Let him say his peace.”

“I’m not going to cry,” Luhan said tersely, and hoped that wasn’t a lie. He cleared his throat. “Sehun and I wouldn’t have made it without all of you here in the room. Separately, and when we first got together.”

Actually, it looked like Tao was the one who was going to cry.

“Xiumin,” Luhan said, looking directly to him. “You got me through those first few months I was here in Korea. You were the only thing that kept me going, some months. And then you introduced me to people who’d come to be more family than just friends. Sehun feels the same way about you, Baekhyun, Suho, all of you. When he was at his lowest, you held him up. You literally kept him alive when he didn’t want to be.”

Suho confirmed, “He would have done the same for us, no questions asked.”

“Of course,” Luhan agreed, “But it’s still worth saying, all the same. And when Sehun and I were still trying to figure out how to make us work as a family, with Youri, we all learned how to pull together. We all became stronger because of each other.”

Luhan felt indebted to the people he was looking out at, and it was the best kind of debt to be in.

Luhan finished by saying, “I know we’ve all moved on, in one way or another. Some of us don’t live here anymore. Some of us are married, some of us have kids, and some of us will only continue to drift further. But you’re the most important people in the world to me. You’re my family, and I’m so grateful that you came today. Thank you.”

A whoop of applause exploded in the room, with Kai shouting, “Encore!”, Kris demanding an Oscar nomination, and Lay getting to his feet with his applause.

“Stop,” Luhan said, blushing a deep red. “I’m done talking now, so just stop.”

“Tell me someone got that on their camera,” Baekhyun said loudly.

“I have tissue over here,” Wei announced, holding up white napkins. “When the tears start, form a line over here by me.”

Suho did get up then, crossed over to Luhan, and hugged him tightly. Just between the two of them he told Luhan, “You talk about how much we mean to you, but when you look at these people around you, I hope you understand how much you mean to us.”

Luhan hugged him back.

Desperate to get things back on track, Luhan sent the order for the food to be brought in, and the gathering dissolved into the giant dinner party he’d always hoped for.

Sehun and Chen, earlier in the day, had gotten the tables set up in a U shape, and Luhan liked that they could all see each other as they talked and ate and laughed. Youri and Ahra, for the most part, were content enough at their own table, and Luhan let himself relax enough to start to enjoy himself.

The food was good but the company, of course, was better.

Luhan liked hearing all the different voices mix in together, half a dozen smaller conversations going at once. He liked being able to drift from D.O.’s stories about the newest production project he was working on, to Lay and Yiru talking about the home they’d purchased recently in anticipation of starting a family the following year.

“What about you,” Xiumin said, looking to Wei.

“What about me?” Wei asked back in a flirtatious way.

Xiumin ignored him and turned to Luhan to ask, “Has he mentioned what his big editorial piece is about, exactly? Because I’ve been thinking about it, and he never said.”

Luhan frowned. “Actually, you know, you’re right.” He poked an accusing finger in Wei’s direction. “I’ve asked you before, you know. I’ve asked you a couple of times, and each time I ask, you skirt the question.”

“What can I say,” Wei offered up, “I’m a man of mystery.”

“Fess up,” Luhan ordered. “What exactly are you working on.”

Wei managed to drag out answering by stuffing a huge bite of sweet and sour pork into his mouth. But then eventually he did chew and swallow, and then told Luhan, “You, actually.”

“Me?”

When Luhan looked to Xiumin, he looked just as surprised and unsure.

“Well,” Wei decided, “not you specifically, but kind of? Look, it started out as an editorial piece, something that I was going to reseach for a couple of months, write up, submit, and then move along from. But my editor has gotten some real traction on it with his superior, and they’re thinking more along the lines of a book, maybe even an optioned documentary.”

“That’s nice,” Luhan said slowly, “but that still doesn’t answer any of my questions.”

Wei revealed, “I’m writing about blended families. Specifically, I’m writing about the experience of non-Koreans, coming to Korea, falling in love, and getting married, and bridging the cultural gap. So technically, I took the assignment because I thought of you, Luhan, and the incredible experience you’ve had. And in part, I took the assignment because it sounded exciting and interesting.”

“That’s amazing,” Luhan breathed out.

“I’ve been commissioned already for a follow-up piece,” Wei revealed. “If everything goes well, the company wants a piece about the children of these ethnically mixed families.”

Instinctively Luhan’s gaze went to Youri.

“Like her,” Wei agreed, following his gaze. “It can’t be easy to grow up a child of two cultures. There’s got to be a push and pull. But in a lot of way, kids like Youri are incredibly lucky. Youri is going to grow up immersed in more than one amazing culture. She’ll get to belong to something twice over, and she’ll have even more options for who she wants to be when she grows up, or what she wants to do.”

“Then,” Luhan decided, “I can’t wait to read what your write.”

“Hey,” Wei said, wiggling his eyebrows at Luhan, “if this thing ends up being a full-fledged book, will you do the cover art?”

“I’m pretty sure you won’t have any control over the cover art on your book,” Luhan pointed out. “I’ve got a friend who works at a publishing house. Authors rarely have control over that.”

Wei waved his concerns off. “You let me worry about taking my bosses into that. Come on, Luhan, how long ago did we promise each other we would collaborate? Ten years? More?”

“We thought we’d grow up and write managa together,” Luhan said flatly. “Those are the kinds of dreams children have.”

“Pinky swear it.” Wei held up the digit. “Come on, Luhan. Pinky swear it to me. if I manage to get a whole book written on this subject in the next six months, you swear to me you’ll do the cover art.”

“You’re a baby,” Luhan sighed out, but reached over to hook their pinkies together.

“Speaking of babies,” Baekhyun broke in, and Luhan hadn’t even been aware he had been following the conversation, “now’s the time to pay up on that baby name.”

Luhan pointed out, “This isn’t my baby shower.”

“No,” Baekhyun agreed, “but most everyone in this room won’t be around for that thing. So how about you just fess up now to what you and Sehun decided on. Ah, and don’t even try saying that you didn’t decide months ago what your son’s name is going to be.”

“Why do you care so much?” Luhan accused back, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Because,” Taeyeon broke in, leaning her chin on Baekhyun’s shoulder in an adorable way, “he doesn’t want our baby’s name to conflict with yours.”

Luhan blinked slowly. “Your … baby’s …”

It was Chen who shouted congratulations loudly, and then hugs were going around like the flu. The room was practically roaring with happiness then, and Luhan continued to be grateful that wonderful friends like Baekhyun and Taeyeon were showing no signs of so much as thinking of leaving Seoul.

“You guys do this on purpose, don’t you,” Tao accused, looking between Luhan and Baekhyun.

Laughing loudly, Luhan protested, “We absolutely do not.” But he thought it was rather sweet that their daughters were so close in age. And their second born children would be, too. Taeyeon didn’t look to be showing at all, so it was definitely too early to know if she was having a boy or otherwise, but Luhan kind of hoped she was. It was nice having Ahra for Youri to play with, and it would be nicer if Taeyeon had a boy for Luhan’s son to be best friends with.

“Hey, hey!” Baekhyun shouted loudly. “No letting Luhan get distracted from the subject at hand.” He swung towards Luhan. “You tell us what that baby’s name is now, or we’re not letting you leave this room.”

“Really?” Luhan asked, more curious than feeling threatened.

D.O. promised, “Not really. But come on, tell us.”

Luhan gave them a grimace and said honestly, “It feels wrong to say it without Sehun here.”

“Why?” Lay questioned.

“Because …”

Because, Luhan couldn’t tell them, he and Sehun had fretted so much over the baby’s name, trying to walk a fine line between past and present, respect and being unable to let go, homage and distaste.

“Because,” Suho spoke up, too confident in his speech, “they named the baby after my brother. At least partially.”

There was a cry of outrage at the idea that Suho knew and the rest of them.

But of course Suho knew. How could they have not run the idea by Suho before deciding? It was a matter of respect, above all else. And also because they trusted Suho to be able to keep quiet.

At his side, Emily asked quietly, “Jaehyuk?”

“We wanted to pay our respect,” Luhan spoke up, commanding the attention of the entire room. “We wanted a name that did that, while still giving the baby his own identity.”

At first, they’d kind of thought that it was in poor taste to put any part of Jae’s name in with their son’s. But the more they’d talked about it, the more right it felt.

Luhan had always encouraged Sehun not to lose touch with his past. Luhan accepted, respected, and underststood how important Jaehyuk continued to be to Sehun. Jae had been Sehun’s first great love, and if it weren’t for him, Luhan never would have married the version of Sehun that he had. Sehun often claimed that Jae had changed him, and for the better.

Luhan and Sehun still took Youri up to see Jae and Seoyoung’s gravesite as frequently as they could manage. And the older Youri got, the more she was starting to understand what had come before her.

Jae was crucial to everything that was their family.

Carefully, Wei asked, “You were okay with that, Luhan?”

Luhan had worried once about having to compete with a ghost for the affection and love of his husband. But that had long since passed. Now Jae was just a part of Sehun’s past, and Luhan knew that a future only worked if a person was at peace with their past.

“I am,” Luhan stated honestly.

“Soooo,” Tao drew out.

Luhan gave them all a wide smile. He reached for a napkin and swiped the pen lingering behind D.O.’s ear. He scratched out hangul across it. “We’re naming the baby Kyungjae.” He held the paper up for them to see.

Kyungjae. They’d decided on the name months ago, and then hoarded it like gold. They hadn’t even told Suho right away, after they’d managed to agree on it.

But Suho hadn’t even hesitated to give his approval when he’d heard it.

“It’s cute,” Suho said, voicing his support of it. “And better than that, it’s respectful.”

Luhan rubbed at his stomach. His little Kyungjae.

“Oh,” he added, lowering the napkin to add Chinese characters. “This is his Chinese name. Chaoxiang. We thought it was only fair, after all. One Chinese name for one Korean. But like Youri, I’m sure he’ll go by Kyungjae for a long time.”

“Hear that,” Taeyeon said, poking Baekhyun in the side. “Kyungjae. We need to pick out a name that doesn’t clash with that.”

“This is ridiculous,” Baekhyun protested. “How do you have more influence over my baby’s name, Luhan, than I do?”

Luhan breathed out a deep breath of relief. It felt good to let the name out. He’d gotten so used to not using the name, not even thinking of it—out of fear he might slip up and say it to the wrong person, that he hadn’t even realized how much of a burden the name had become.

But the name was out there now, and it felt great.

Xiumin came to stand at his side and asked, “Kyungjae, yeah?”

“You like it?” Luhan asked, all the sudden nervous. Xiumin’s opinion meant everything to him.

Xiumin didn’t leave him waiting for long, before assuring, “Don’t worry, Luhan. I like it a lot.”

“Well,” Luhan said with a chuckle, “that’s a relief. I told Sehun, if you didn’t like it, we’d have to change it immediately.”

“Liar,” Xiumin whispered.

Luhan found his hand discretely and squeezed.

Maybe not so much of a liar.

For another hour and a half Luhan enjoyed the best company he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. They were loud and blunt with each other, chatting about anything and everything, and Luhan felt utterly at home.

At some point, Youri and Ahra became cranky and fussy, and then the both of them ended curled up under their own table, sleeping soundly.

Desert came after the meal, even though most of them were stuffed, and then the conversation got quieter.

“I miss this,” Lay confessed quietly. “I miss all of you.”

Kai gave a nod, just as Tao said, “Me, too.”

“This was worth the wait, though,” Chen seemed to decide. “I’d wait a decade more if I had to, if it meant I got to share another meal with all of you.”

Suho corrected, “With Chanyeol and Sehun, too.”

At the mention, Luhan felt a pang of hurt, but he pushed it aside quickly enough. Sehun would come home, and fast enough Chanyeol would be showing up at their house on Sunday afternoons to eat lunch with them and play with Youri.

Eventually, in an expected way, the day began to wind down. With promises to call and visit while still in town, people began to trickle out. Kris went first, then Lay and Kai and Chen, then the rest.

Before long, Baekhyun, carrying a sleeping Ahra, told Luhan, “Taeyeon and I should get home. Or do you need me to stay and help with the cleanup?”

“I’ve got this,” Xiumin said, passing him by with a trash bag already in hand.

“Go,” Luhan urged.

Fifteen minutes after that, Suho as walking his ninth circuit of the room with Youri in his arms as she woke slowly. Luhan was gathering up stray cups as Xiumin held open a trash bag that Wei was tossing things into, and Emily was placing furniture back in order.

“I’m glad we did this today,” Luhan told him, voice soft. “I thought I was the one who needed it—maybe the only one. But I think we all did in some way.”

“Absolutely,” Xiumin said. “And I think—”

Before Xiumin could say any more the door to the room slammed open. Luhan gave a shout of fright and dropped the plate he’d been holding.

Stunned, he looked to Sehun who was standing in the doorway.

He thought for a second he was hallucinating.

But no, it was Sehun.

It was Sehun, looking a little frantic in the face, breathing hard, sweating, not moving as if he was waiting for permission to enter.

“Sehun?” Suho asked in disbelief.

Behind Sehun, Chanyeol came to a screeching stop from a run, gasping for air himself, barking out, “You crazy !”

“Luhan,” Sehun said gently, with only eyes for him and nothing else in the world. “Am I too late?”

“You’re never too late,” Luhan promised, and a second later Sehun was flying to his side to wrap him up in loving arms.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Wei said with some kind of awe.

“I couldn’t go,” Sehun promised, then he was kissing Luhan hard and in a desperate, needy way.

“No, seriously,” Luhan heard Wei say again. “I really don’t know what’s going on.”

Luhan certainly didn’t know either. But it also didn’t seem like it really mattered. Because Sehun was there, in his arms, and his kisses still felt like they completed Luhan.

Everything else kind of felt like it could wait.