“What is this life? Let me die.” Sehun crashed down hard against the kitchen table, his body heavy and weary, and his head thundering with pain. He clenched his eyes closed and tried to block out the world around him.

Death was preferable to living at the moment, and he felt like an absolute idiot for letting Chanyeol talk him into multiple bottles of soju.

He wasn’t that twenty something year old right out of college who could challenge and win a soju drinking contest. And he’d forgotten that the night before. Stupidly.

The cool feeling of the table under him was a godsend, but then Luhan’s voice cut through the air, “Head off the table, Sehun. Try to set a good example for your daughter, please. If she sees you doing that, she’ll want to. Then you get to explain to her why you can do something she can’t. Do you want that headache?”

Sehun squinted his eyes open at Luhan. “Headache? That’s the word I heard. In that entire lecture, I heard the word headache. And yes, I can confirm, I have a headache. Or possibly a . I’ll get back to you on that.”

From his spot near the stove, Luhan gave him a pointed look of no mercy. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and Sehun was suddenly struck by the prominence of the swell at his stomach.

It suddenly dawned on him how long it had been since he really and truly looked at the progress of Luhan’s pregnancy. He’d fallen into such a comfortable feeling with it that he was hardly obsessing over every small thing like he had when Luhan had been pregnant with Youri. He could still be found in the middle of a panic attack every once in a while when Luhan ate too much dairy, but for the most part, he was at ease with the pregnancy.

Sadly, that meat he didn’t take in the shape of Luhan too frequently. If he had, he would have realized the smooth curve to Luhan’s stomach now, and how anyone looking could currently see that Luhan wasn’t too far out from his third trimester. And boy did the swell of pregnancy make Luhan look gorgeous. He was always something magnificent to look at, but right now, glowing and rounded, he was a deity to behold.

Sehun wanted to drag himself up from the kitchen table and run his hands reverently along Luhan’s stomach.

He was just afraid if he tried, he might end up face down on the floor.

From her booster seat across from Sehun at the table, Youri asked tentatively, “Daddy? Are you hurt?” Her head tilted in a way that had her bangs falling into her line of sight.

“Just my pride as a man,” Sehun groaned out.

Luhan swept closer to the table and bent to kiss the top of Youri’s forehead. He said, “Your daddy is just learning the hard way what it means to have too much of a good time. He’ll be fine.”

Glaring at the bright light in the room, Sehun asked Luhan, “Can you be a sympathetic husband to me right now? Be good to me.”

Luhan rolled his eyes. “You have work in an hour. Better start making yourself a presentable human being soon.”

Youri dug her tiny plastic spoon in to her portage and held it out to Sehun. “Here, daddy. Eat.”

Sehun took the spoon from her and made an exaggerated sound of pleasure as he ate it down.

Youri giggled loudly and snatched the spoon back so she could eat in earnest.

Luhan was there a second later to whisper in Sehun’s hear, “You’re a good father, even when you’re hung over.”

One strong cup of coffee later and Sehun felt more like a human being. Youri had since finished her breakfast and gotten cleaned up. She had her backpack on and was bouncing happily next to Wei as he put his jacket on. She’d been a ball of energy ever since Wei had agreed to take her to her school that morning.

Sehun was starting to really appreciate having Wei around, now. Not only was he helping to take some of the burden off Luhan when it came to Youri, but he was kind of like a built in babysitter now. And a babysitter for Youri meant more time Sehun could spend with Luhan.

It certainly wasn’t as if Youri was a regret of any kind. Sehun loved her more than oxygen. She was more precious to him than he had ever thought possible. She was his world and his everything.

But Youri was infinitely demanding. And her presence from the start had really detracted the amount of time Sehun and Luhan had exclusively for each other. She’d been conceived so suddenly that everything had been done out of order. Part of Sehun missed that he and Luhan hadn’t had a couple of years just to themselves before children came along.

Wei was making it easier for them to steal moments just for themselves.

“Ready?” Wei asked when he had his stuff gathered up. He’d mentioned earlier that he was headed out to do some work. “Got everything, Daiyu?”

Youri preened when he said her Chinese name, and she replied loudly in Chinese.

Sehun looked over to Luhan and said, “If she starts greeting me in the morning in Chinese, I draw the line.”

Luhan ribbed, “You’re just jealous our three year old speaks better Chinese than you, and you’ve been trying to learn longer than she’s been alive.”

Youri called out a goodbye to them, and Sehun took the opportunity to catch Luhan by the waist and swing him in close. He murmured against Luhan’s mouth, “I’m definitely not jealous of our three-year-old.” Then he was kissing Luhan hard and fast, happy that Luhan felt well enough to partake in the activity.

“This,” Luhan breathed out against him, sagging against Sehun in a comfortable way. “I missed this.”

“It’s hard to catch a second,” Sehun agreed, “when your kid is vying for attention every second of every day.”

Luhan wrapped his arms around Sehun’s neck lovingly. “I would make a comment about how we’re lucky Youri will be going off to a more structured school in the next couple years, to get a more focused education, but by then we’ll have this guy.” Luhan was sure to bump his stomach against Sehun.

Like a homing beacon, Sehun’s hands found their way to the swell.

“I’m so excited for him,” Sehun confessed, feeling his face heat a little. “I love Youri so much. She’s my everything. But this guy, a son, he makes the family feel rounded out. I can’t wait to hold him in my arms.”

Luhan confessed, “I’m excited to be able to eat any kind of meat. One can only survive so long on white rice.”

“He’s not doing it on purpose,” Sehun said confidently, his fingers across Luhan’s stomach. He felt the ripple of movement follow after him. “He’s a good baby too, right?”

Luhan indulged, “He barely sits on my bladder, he rarely kicks my kidney, and you’re right, I haven’t had any cravings for impossible foods, so yes, he’s a good baby.”

Sehun pulled Luhan a little more closer, practically folding over him. “I’m so happy right now.”

“Maybe now,” Luhan chided, “you’ll finally start believing me when I say we get out happy ending.”

Cheekily, Sehun asked, “Speaking of happy endings, want to join me upstairs?” He wiggled his eyebrows for effect.

“You’re despicable, truly,” Luhan said, but there was nothing but amusement on his face. “What was I thinking to even marry you?”

Sehun made sure to flounce imaginary hair over his shoulder. “I’m sure you were thinking how amazingly lucky you are that such an amazing, perfect, incredibly tremendous person would even give you the time of day.”

Luhan pinched his side. “Definitely that.”

Fondly, Sehun a hand down Luhna’s face, his fingers framing Luhan’s jaw so he could kiss him in a sweet way. “I love you,” he vowed, as he had a million times before. “I love you more than I can ever really say, and I hope that you understand a fraction of how much I love you. I love you so much.”

He felt nothing but a rush of desire in the way Luhan looked back at him, then leaned in to kiss him.

“You’re about to be late for work,” Luhan cautioned.

Sehun replied, “I am perfectly okay with that.”

Late was an understatement.

Chanyeol gave him a long whistle when he finally tried to slip into his office unannounced. Chanyeol called after him and asked, “I know Luhan’s hot and all, but should you really be getting reacquainted with him on the company’s time? The guy’s already pregnant, Sehun. You can’t get him that way again.”

Sehun collapsed at his desk and asked him in an impossible way, “How can you possible know … you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Chanyeol pointed to his head.

Sehun reached up to pat down his hair. “What?”

“It’s all in the hair,” Chanyeol laughed out. “Here’s a hint: it’s always the hair.”

Sehun scowled at him. But a second later he cooled enough to ask, “Have you heard anything about what we turned in yesterday?”

“You mean has the boss started yelling yet?” Chanyeon asked. He took a seat at the sofa in the corner of the room. “The answer, surprisingly, is no.”

“No?” Sehun’s eyebrows rose. He could hardly believe it. He actually couldn’t. “No way. President Lee has had more than enough time to review our work, pick it apart, and then tear it to shreds. He should have been screaming hours ago.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol chuckled, “is that why you were late? So I got yelled at and not you?”

“Didn’t you offer to be the one who gets yelled at this time?”

Chanyeol only slumped a little. “I’m just glad there’s no yelling period. There’s a jackhammer going off in my head right now. And I’m surprise you’re even walking straight.”

“Strong coffee this morning,” Sehun justified.

“And then some,” Chanyeol snickered. He sat up proper. “The boss is in, I know that much. But he’s been cooped up in his office since I got here hours ago. Not even the secretary is going in and out. So chances are, the boss is putting together our severance packages.”

Sehun’s eyes widened. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Not when Sehun had a new baby on the way. Luhan’s art, three years down the, was selling well enough when he produced it. Luhan’s art in fact was becoming something of a novelty in certain circles in Seoul. But Luhan was an artist in every sense of the word. He could only pain when his muse allowed it, and his inspiration came and went easily. Luhan was certainly spectacularly talented, but if Sehun lost his job, his art wasn’t anything that would bring in a stable income. Especially since Luhan hadn’t painted in months, not since he’d learned of his pregnancy.

Sehun couldn’t lose his job. He had to support his family, especially as it expanded. There couldn’t be any other alternative.

“Don’t even joke,” Sehun warned.

“Then I don’t know what he’s doing in there,” Chanyeol shrugged. “Maybe it isn’t even anything related to our project. I just know there’s been no word on what he thinks of what we put in yesterday, and that’s making me nervous as hell.”

Confused, Sehun asked, “Should we go ask?”

“Hell no,” Chanyeol snapped out. “Look, I already tried that. I got within about a dozen feet of the boss’s office, and his secretary nearly ran me down. Apparently no one goes in right now, not until the boss decides.”

Leaning an elbow up on his desk, Sehun wondered, “Then what are we supposed to work on until that happens? That was our only project. We don’t have anything else to work on in the meanwhile.”

Chanyeol launched himself up off the sofa and over to Sehun’s desk. “Actually,” he drawled out, “I was kind of thinking, how about we go make a quick trip to the train station?” He checked his watch. “And by quick I mean really quick. You running late really put a strain on my plans for today.”

“You’re talking gibberish,” Sehun decided.

“Put your coat on,” Chanyeol needled. “And hey, you got your car from the bar already, right?”

“How do you think I got here?” Sehun asked. He’d been even later into the office than expected because he’d needed Luhan to take him to the bar before hand. But thankfully his car had been waiting for him in the parking lot, untouched and pristine as ever.

“Good, good.”

Getting up to his feet, Sehun wondered, “The train station?”

“Time’s a wasting,” Chanyeol said gleefully. “And trust me, this’ll be worth it.”

“You realize,” Sehun told him when the arrived at the train station and parked the car, “this is why people don’t trust you. You make us all nervous with sercets.”

Chanyeol didn’t look offended in the least bit. He merely returned, “And you realize this is the reason we all laugh about you when you’re not in the room.”

“This?”

“How dense and forgetful you are some times.”

Sehun gave him an unsure look.

Chanyeol pressed, “Don’t you know what today is? Haven’t you figured it out by why we’re here?”

Sehun turned form Chanyol to give a proper look around the train station. The soju from the night before and the stress from work seemed to be eating away at his memory.

“You’re a terrible best friend,” Chanyeol whistled out as he walked by.

A second more and Chanyeol’s words crashed into him.

Sehun was taking off in a blur after that, leaving Chanyeol in the dust, desperate to get to the train that was only minutes away from arriving.

“I forgot,” Sehun confessed to Chanyeol when they were waiting on the platform for the train. “I forgot and you’re right, I’m a terrible best friend.”

Chen.

It was Chen they were here for. It was Tuesday, at half past ten, and Chen was meant to come in on the train at that time. It had completely slipped from Sehun’s mind, like it wasn’t even important, and now Sehun felt ashamed. Chen was his best friend, even if their relationship was more long distance now than anything else.

“It’s Chen,” Sehun admitted out loud. “I forgot about Chen.”

How could he have forgotten Chen?

“I know, I know,” Chanyeol waved off, “he made a big deal about us not being here to get him from the station when he gets in, but that’s bull. He’s our friend. So we’re here.”

Less than a week ago Sehun had talked at length with Chen about what his schedule looked like for his stay in Korea. And Chen had stated that he and Eunju were meant to stay with her parents down in the south. Her parents had purchased vacation home near Jeju a year ago, and Eunji wanted to stay with them when they arrived back in Korea from Taiwan. And then Chen and Eunji planned to take the train up to Seoul afterwards, to stay for a couple weeks before leaving the country again.

Sehun wasn’t sure, be he thought he remembered Chen saying something about them staying with Xiumin. But no matter where Chen was going to be living for a couple of weeks, Sehun was just happy to have him near again.

This time, Sehun was determined to find out what the waver in Chen’s voice was, whenever the topic of children came up. Something was wrong. Sehun could sense that much without prying at all. Something was definitely wrong, and Sehun planned to find out what was.

“Thank you, Chanyeol,” Sehun said earnestly, turning to him. “Thank you for remembering.”

Chanyeol gave him an easy smile. “You get stressed out about things easily, Sehun. And the first thing that goes is your memory. But I’ve got your back.” Chanyeol always certainly seemed to.

The train was running a couple of minutes late, but not by much. And Sehun was practically vibrating on his feet when the train came to a stop and the first people started disembarking.

“Tell me when you see him,” Sehun said anxiously. “We have to catch him before he leaves. He doesn’t know we’re here.”

“Don’t worry,” Chanyeol assured. “My height’s good for something!”

For all of Chanyeol’s height, it was actually Sehun who did spot Chen. His best friend was stepping down from the train with a suitcase in hand, when Sehun recognized the same old blue jacket that Chen had had for years and years, refusing to throw away. It was going thin, the material fraying, but Chen said it was a good luck jacket, and that it was too comfortable to abandon.

Sehun would have known that jacket anywhere.

“Chen!”

Sehun practically plowed through the people littered along the station, before catching Chen in a strong hug and lifting him off his feet.

“Sehun!” Chen laughed out, hugging him back in surprise and happiness. “What are you doing here?”

“My best friend comes into town for the first time in ten months and you think I’m not going to be here?”

“Oh, the details,” Chanyeol singsonged, appearing at their side.

“Chanyeol,” Chen breathed out, reaching over to hug him as well.

“Where’s Eunji?” Sehun asked, turning to look back to the train. He expected her to be with him, or at least just a couple seconds behind. But she wasn’t. So where was she?

“Sehun,” Chen eased out slowly, looking nervous and awkward all at once.

“Is she here?” Chanyeol’s head craned around.

“No,” Chen said simply.

There were a million questions running through Sehun’s mind. He wanted to ask at least half of them in that moment. But the platform was terribly crowded, and he didn’t like the look of unease on his best friend’s face. So instead he asked, “Are you hungry? You must be hungry.”

Chen laughed, “It’s not even eleven yet.”

“We should go get food anyway. Come on.”

“Don’t you have work?” Chen asked.

“Surprisingly enough,” Chanyeol answered for them both, “not at the moment. Our boss might be having a meltdown of some kind, and we’re free until we know for sure. So, food?”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Chen shrugged. “Food.”

They loaded Chen’s bag up into Sehuns car, then piled in. And then Sehun drove them halfway across Seoul to the noddle house he and Chen had spent most of their high school and college years eating at. They knew the proprietors by name, and had put so much money into the restaurant that they’d practically paid for the owner’s daughter to go to college. It was a place that looked and smelled like home as much as it tasted, and it was the definition of comfort.

And maybe they ordered too much food for three people to eat, even three grown men. But money was the least of Sehun’s concerns at the second, and all that mattered to him in the moment was getting Chen settled down, and enjoying time with his friends.

“So,” Chanyeol let slip out slowly, throwing Sehun a sly look, “how much do we have to eat, and how much time has to pass, before you tell us why you showed up here without your wife? You know, for a party that’s supposed to be all of us friends and family getting together for the first time in years.”

With a mouth full of squid ink noodles, Chen huffed a little. Then he swallowed the food down and said, “At least another round of side dishes, and about wenty minuets.”

Chanyeol remarked lowly, “Oh no.”

Sehun concurred. That wasn’t good at all.

It was more like forty minutes later before Chen was willing to say anything. But at least then he put his chopsticks down, wiped his mouth, and said, “Eunji’s staying with her parents. She won’t be coming up here. She won’t … I …”

His mouth going dry, Sehun asked, “What’s wrong?”

Eunji and Chen had always seemed to have a fairytale romance of sorts. They were based out of Taiwan now, where Eunji had a research grant so she could pioneer new techniques in a rapidly advancing medical field. And Chen was being independently contracted for his photography in such a way that he was a success by every definition. They traveled well enough, they owned property, and the last time Sehun had seen them, they’d looked just as in love as they ought to be.

But even Sehun had known everything wasn’t what it seemed. He’d known for some time now that there was an issue shoving its way between them, and that the happy façade that they always put on, was just that. A façade.

Sehun had tried asking before. He’d tried subtlely getting the answer out of Chen. But Chen had been especially tight lipped about it all, and given few hints. Other than the issue being something to do with children, or Sehun knew nothing.

Sehun was frightened to think that Chen was deliberately not saying anything to him, because of Sehun’s previous trauma. He wanted to think that Chen knew they could talk about anything. But Chen was also incredibly empathic to Sehun’s past, and Sehun didn’t put it past Chen to hold back because of it.

“So she’s not coming up,” Sehun repeated slowly. “Why?”

“Don’t lie to us,” Chanyeol cut in, his voice surprisingly soft. “We’ve all been through some bad together. We’ve survived it all. We can talk to each other about anything. We know each other’s dirty laundry like wow.”

“Like wow?” Sehun questioned.

“That much,” Chanyeol insisted. He said even more serious, “We don’t judge each other. And we don’t gossip about each other. We’re more brothers than anything else. So just tell us what’s going on, Chen, and let us help if we can.”

“You can’t,” Chen said simply, but there wasn’t any anger to his voice. “Eunji and I are just trying to work some things out right now.”

“So you’re fighting,” Sehun inferred.

Chen tapped his fingers along the surface of the low table they were sitting at. Then, after a brief pause, he said, “Yes.”

“About what?” Chanyeol wondered. “You guys were practically made for each other. What would you two have to fight about? You’re both attractive, smart, funny people. You’re also about as in love as I’ve seen two people be, next to Sehun and Luhan who shame us all.”

“Funny,” Sehun commented wryly.

A smile cracked on Chen’s face, however, and he said, “Actually, truer words were never spoken I think, Chanyeol. You’re right. Luhan and Sehun are spectacularly disgusting with their sordid love affair. I’m not even sure how we put up with them.”

Sehun clutched at his chest. “Chen! You’re supposed to be my best friend. How can you wound me like this?”

“I don’t know,” Chen tossed back leisurely, “how could you replace me with an artist?”

“You’re a photographer!”

“I’m a photojournalist.” Chen upturned his nose.

“Oh, spare me,” Sehun exhaled. A second later he laughed, revealing there was no tension between them at all.

“Eunji and I just …” Chen finally said, bringing them back to a moment of seriousness, “we’re just trying to work something important out. We can’t agree on what to do, or what we should do, or even what’s best for us. We’ve never really fought before, you know. So that’s why this is so … terrible. At least that’s why I think.”

Sehun asked with a wince, “She’s not going to come up here at all? Not even for the party?”

Chen shook his head. “She planned to, but yesterday we had a pretty big fight. It’s the biggest one we’ve ever had, and she decided that she needed to stay with her parents, and talk to them, and just get some space from me.” Chen offered to Sehun, “She did ask me to apologize to Luhan. She knows how important this gathering is to him, and she wanted to be here. It just … it isn’t the place she needs to be, and that’s the difference.”

“Luhan will understand,” Sehun assured. “But are you okay? A man’s wife says she needs space, and she doesn’t travel with him. That’s not good.”

Che chortled, “We’re not breaking up, if that’s what you two are worried about. But Eunji and I … we’re just not sure where we go from here.”

It was clear to Sehun, and probably to Chanyeol, that Chen was purposely evading the matter at hand. He was talking without saying much at all. And if Sehun wanted to, he knew he could confront Chen about it.

But there was time for that, and Chen had only just come into town. There’d be plenty of time for Sehun to have a sit down with Chen and talk to him privately. There’d be days and days of opportunity coming up.

And for now, Sehun just wanted to enjoy time with his best friend, who he hadn’t seen in close to a year. He wanted to just spend time with Chen, and no Chen’s problems.

He had a good feeling Chen felt the same way.

“How about,” Sehun proposed, “we just talk about good things? You’re in town finally, everyone is healthy, and we’re going to have a party.”

Chanyeol raised his drink towards them. “I’m all for that. Good idea, Sehun.”

Chen raised his own cup and declared, “I’m really glad to be here. No matter what, don’t doubt that. You’re my friends. This is where I grew up and worked for a long time. Coming here feels like coming home.

“To friends, then?” Sehun asked, the last to raise his cup.

“To friends,” Chen and Chanyeol agreed.

Sehun had meant lunch to be a short affair, because Chen needed to get settled in to where he was staying, and both Sehun and Chanyeol had to get back to work eventually, if only to figure out what was going on.

But Chen was Sehun’s best friend. And Chanyeol was the guy who’d stood next to Sehun the most in Chen’s absence. In many, many ways, Chanyeol had really filled the void that both Chen and Suho had left by moving away. Sehun certainly wasn’t besmirching either of them the right to move on with their lives and do what they wanted. But Chanyeol had stayed firmly rooted in Seoul, and he’d been the one Sehun turned to for many things.

So being in a room with Chen and Chanyeol, who next to Luhan and Suho were the most important people in his life, meant that it was too easy to lose track of time.

It was only when Sehun’s waistline was protesting heavily from the food they kept ordering, and Chen was yawning like he wanted a nap, did the actual hour come to light.

Chanyeol’s eyes bugged out of his face when he saw, and he commented, “Well, if we weren’t being considered for being fired before, we are now.”

Sehun groaned and put his face in his hands.

“Go back to work, you lazy bums,” Chen chuckled out. He was reaching to pay the bill and Sehun snatched the item out of his hand. Chen pointed out, “If you pay that, Luhan is going to find out, you know he will, and he’s going to have you sleeping on the sofa for a week for it.”

Confidently, Sehun slid is credit card out of his wallet and said, “Haha, but you’re wrong. Luhan’s circulation is pretty compromised because of the baby. That means he’s always cold. There’s no way he’ll give up a built in heater like me at night.”

Chen eyed him, then proposed, “I don’t know. Don’t you have Luhan’s Chinese friend staying with you right now? Seems like he’s got a different source of body heat if he wants it.”

Chanyeol teased, “A tall, muscled, hunk of body heat, actually. Chen, have you seen a picture? Let me should you a picture of this Adonis.”

Sehun announced, “I’m officially rescinding our friendship. That’s it. It’s gone. Kiss it goodbye.”

As a fair compromise, Chanyeol and Sehun ended up splitting the bill evenly. They refused to let Chen contribute in any way, citing him as their guest, and then the three of them piled back in the car and took off for the real world again.

“Come over for dinner soon,” Sehun pleaded with Chen when they were dropping him off in front of Xiumin’s home. “Luhan will be so happy to see you again, and Youri’s been asking when her Uncle Chen is going to come visit her. We’ll find a good day for all of us before Saturday, and you should come over and just spend some time with us.”

“Take it,” Chanyeol urged. “Sehun never likes to share Luhan.”

Chen promised, “We’ll work it out. I promise. Now get back to work.” He gave them a longer than average wave, and then slipped inside the house.

They were practically back to the office when Chanyeol asked, “Over or under fifty percent Lee has finally come out of his office and is wondering where his two best employees are?”

“Best or worst, depending,” Sehun corrected. “And I’m not taking that bet. I’ll grovel for my job if I have to. I’ll beg and plead.” There would never come a time where he wasn’t a husband or father who could provide for his family. No matter what. No matter the cost.

Nothing was seemingly out of place or different when they returned to the office, and Sehun wasn’t sure whether to be glad or not. The boss’s door was still firmly shut, and the secretary still had nothing but a bewildered look and a shrug.

Chanyeol went back to his office, and Sehun to his own.

Still there was no work left to do, but Sehun certainly wasn’t crying foul. Luhan had emailed him a couple of last minute decisions for the party that needed to be decided, and now he had the time for that.

They’d rented out a small reception hall for the event in Seoul’s most metropolitan area, and had everything from a caterer hired, to a professional decorator.

When Sehun had warned gently, “It’s just a friendly get together,” he’d meant to reassure an almost obsessive Luhan that their friends wouldn’t care where they were meeting, or what the place looked like.

But Luhan had looked back at him in an unflinching way and said, “It took three years to get everyone in one spot right now, and you’re crazy if you think that we’re not all going to continue to drift apart as the years stack up. It might be five more years, or ten, before we manage this again. It should be done right, Sehun. We owe it to the people who helped us through our worst moments, to do it right for them.”

So the whole event had turned into more of a family reunion style feeling, but if it made Luhan happy, Sehun was quick to sign his name to any of the necessary checks.

Luhan rarely asked for much. He was about as easy going as people came. But when he did ask, Sehun was more than inclined to provide.

Sehun was minutes away from calling Luhan to confirm the changes they’d made, when his boss’s secretary poked her head into his office. She looked a little nervous when she told him, “Mister Lee is asking for you. He wants to see you.”

Sehun shot up to his feet. “He wants to see me? In his office?”

She nodded.

Sehun breathed out deeply. “Has Chanyeol been called in too?

The secretary shook her head, not indicating whether that was good or bad. “No, sir. Just you.”

“Okay.” Sehun pressed down some of the winkles in his suit. “Okay. I’m going now.”

He walked swiftly down to his boss’s office, and then knocked sharply on the door before pressing in.

Maybe he’d expected to find carnage in the large office. Or at least some proof of why his superior had locked himself way for the better part of the day in the office. But there was nothing of the sort. There was simply a clean, well-kept office, a large desk at the center of it, and a gray haired man sitting behind said desk.

Sehun gave the man a low, deeply respectful bow, and then asked, “You asked to see me, sir?”

His boss, Lee Kangji gestured for Sehun to take a seat at one of the chairs placed at the desk. Sehun hurried to do so, not wanting to set his boss off for the slightest infraction.

The truth was, Sehun loved working at the company that had dared to take a chance on him right out of college. He got to work on challenging, provoking projects, he made good money, and most of his coworkers were a delight. He liked being able to brag about where he worked, and the things he got to partake in. But his boss was incredibly demanding, woefully short tempered, and often lacked patience.

Sehun was still trying to decide, nearly a decade into his time at the company, if the tradeoff was worth it.

“Oh Sehun,” his boss said, “do you know what I’ve been doing this morning?”

Sehun shook his head. “I wouldn’t presume to guess.”

“I have been,” the old man replied, “fielding calls from our most prestigious client. I passed along your most recent attempt to satisfy him last night, and he’s had ample time to review the material.”

Sehun held his breath.

“Do you know, Oh, how much this deal is worth to our company?”

Sehun shook his head, but that wasn’t exactly truthful. He was certain he could ballpark the worth of the deal, and it was certainly in the millions. It was more than enough to effect the price of their stock, and shape the next six months of the company’s direction. It was big, and bigger than anything they’d handled in years, maybe since Sehun had joined the company.

In the competitive field of advertising, this deal was enough to either set them apart from the pack, or leave them in the dust.

“It’s worth,” his boss breathed out, standing up and leaning over the desk, “ever single bit of that raise and promotion I gave you.” He extended his hand for Sehun to shake with a smile on his face. “Our clients loves what you’ve proposed, Oh. He thinks you’re a miracle worker, and he wants to sign with us immediately.”

Sehun’s knees were practically knocking together as he stood and reached out to shake his boss’s hand. His voice was shaking when he said, “Mister Lee, that’s amazing. I’m so, so thankful.”

The man replied “You scared me there for a second, Oh. I thought you and Park might never get there, but you came through in the end. You came through for this company, and the board is not going to overlook that.”

“I was just doing my job,” Sehun managed. He could have wept with relief, actually. He’d spent so much time, put so much energy and effort into crafting a marketing and development plan that his client would like, that he could scarcely believe what was happening.

“This means big things,” his boss said, sitting down. “This means big changes are coming. Not just for this company, Oh, but for you and Park, too. The two of you have proven your value, and I couldn’t be more happy to have the two of you on board with us.”

Sehun worried morbidly just how much different the conversation would be going if the client had disliked yet another of Sehun’s proposals.

“I hope you’re ready to get to work on this,” Sehun’s boss started, taping a stack of folders on his desk that Sehun could now had their clients name written across. “We’re going to set a standard here for how deals of this caliber should be handled, and others in the industry are going to know your name.”

Flattered as he was, Sehun just wanted a few seconds to breathe.

“The client has big plans for your big plan, Oh, and he wants to get started right away. We’re in premier season to get all of the details squared away, so construction can begin in the spring. You’ll need to carefully coordinate here with our client, Oh, so I need to know that you’re dedicated. Are you dedicated to this? Are you dedicated to finishing a job that will make your career?”

Wasn’t this what he had been working towards for so long? Sehun was certain it was. He just wasn’t certain why his anxiety wasn’t abating. He wasn’t feeling any better, just more pressure, as the seconds passed.

But he could do this. He could do this for his family, and for the legacy he wanted to build.

“I’m committed, sir,” Sehun promised.

“Good.” His boss nodded in an appeased way. “I’ll have my secretary forward your secretary all of the travel information for you, but I suggest you start prepping yourself for this. You’ll be representing this company when you meet with our client. I trust you’ll be on your best behavior the second your feet are off Korean soil.”

Sehun’s mind screeched to a stop. “Wait, what?”

“What are you confused about?”

“Travel?” Sehun said immediately. “What about traveling?”

Now his boss looked impatient, and the man said evenly, “How would you meet with our client otherwise, Oh? He can’t very well leave Hong Kong to come all the way here, to speak with us. He’ll need you on sight, off and on, as a consultant as you begin to put your proposal into effect. You’ll likely have to take Park, if the situation calls for it. But make no mistake, you will be going to the client. And speaking of, the client as so graciously allotted us a travel budget. Apparently, he’s that impressed with your advertising and marketing proposal. So yes, you are expected to travel. He wants you there, explicitly you and no one else, and this deal goes nowhere without you there.”

“I …”

“It’s not even that long,” his boss snapped. “You’ll only have to do this for the next four or five months. There are people who would kill to be in your shoes. Would you rather one of them be?”

Four or five months?

In four or five months, Luhan would be giving birth. Their son would be born. How could Sehun spend the next four or five months, most of which he had planned to take paternity leave through, flying back and forth to China, when Luhan needed him at home? How could he risk being in Hong Kong when his son was being born? How could he do that to Luhan or their family?

“You leave Friday,” his boss interrupted his thoughts with. “Tell Park you’re taking him with you for the initial meeting.”

“Friday?” Sehun breathed out.

“Congratulations,” his boss said, attention turning away from Sehun.

Friday.

He was supposed to fly out to Hong Kong on Friday?

Sehun felt light headed and the room was wobbling as one thing, and only one thing, settled into the forefront of Sehun’s mind.