“I see you started without me.”

The surprise of Minseok’s arrival sends Lu Han spiraling into a choking fit and he swears he sees his childhood flashing before his eyes as he holds the bar counter in a vice grip. For a second, in between cursing Minseok’s timing and trying to pull his soul back into his body, he mentally pats himself on the back for choosing a smooth cocktail instead of something that would have left his throat burning like the depths of hell in this life or death crisis. “Don’t do that,” he hacks out in between coughs. Chest tight, he pries one of his hands away from the counter to clutch the front of his shirt where his heart is racing. “I can’t breathe.”

Minseok, like the jerk that he is, doesn’t do anything to help and slides onto the stool beside him. When Lu Han finally calms down and stops coughing, his heart rate returning to a normal, steady pace and air returning to his lungs, he slaps Minseok’s arm. “Why is it that you only surprise me when I’m drinking? You’re going to be the death of me one day. I saw the light just now. I made eye contact with Jesus!”

Lifting a finger, Minseok briefly ignores Lu Han in order to ask for an apple martini. Lu Han would laugh at him and his super girly drink choice if it wasn’t for his brush with death a minute ago. Flashing his identification to the bartender when asked, Minseok glances at Lu Han with skepticism clear in his eyes. “Are you even a Christian? More importantly, are you even religious?”

Lu Han lifts his shoulders and runs his finger around the rim of his highball glass. “No and not necessarily but that’s beside the point.”

Smiling charmingly at the bartender, Minseok reaches out to take the martini placed before him. He tastes it with a delighted sigh. “What is the point, then?”

“That you almost killed me!” Lu Han straightens up and waves his arms around frantically in his distress.

“I didn’t tell you to choke,” Minseok says before attaching his lips to the glass again, angling his body away from the spastic Chinese man, afraid Lu Han’s flailing limbs are going smack into him.

“You surprised me!”

“Not my fault. You should’ve been waiting for me to get here instead of drinking, you alcoholic.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense…” Lu Han’s argument dies on his lips when Minseok reaches over to pinch his nose playfully while smiling the loveliest of lovely smiles. Biting the inside of his cheek, he narrows his eyes at Minseok, admitting defeat in their ‘fight’. It was a losing battle anyway. Finishing the rest of the liquid in his glass, Lu Han motions to the bartender for another. “What’s the big celebration? It’s not everyday you invite me out,” he diverts the topic, tapping his fingers on the counter in an offbeat rhythm.

Minseok flattens Lu Han’s fingers barely a second later, quirking an eyebrow at him in mock annoyance. Lu Han takes to bouncing his left leg instead. He’s fidgety. He doesn’t want to think it’s because of nerves because he has no reason to be nervous but he can’t think of why else he can’t sit still. He’s just with Minseok. No big deal. He and Minseok are like best buds. They’ve shared a living space for three days which is more than Lu Han can say about any of his other friends (because Baekhyun’s never been to his house, Yixing’s snoring frightens small children, and Lu Han comes closer to killing Sehun every time he visits and he doesn’t know how the kid’s roommate lives with him). They aren’t going to get so piss drunk that something happens to them (or between them. But Lu Han doesn’t like to think about that because, you know, feelings).

“— and since this is a big accomplishment in my life, I thought I’d drink to it and you’re not even listening to me, are you?”

“Not at all,” Lu Han replies despite how absentminded he is. The sound of Minseok’s glass hitting the counter snaps him out of his reverie. He realizes how blunt his response was and tries to take it back with inarticulate stuttering and more flailing limbs.

Minseok presses two fingers to Lu Han’s lips to quiet him. The singer looks back and forth between the fingers and their owner, his mind blank on how to respond to this bit of intimacy. To his luck, Minseok removes his fingers in favor of playing with his hair as he repeats himself. This time, Lu Han listens as he’s told about Minseok’s audition, remembering the latter’s words about wanting to join an acting company. Propping his elbow up on the counter, he rests his chin in his palm, content with watching the way Minseok’s face lights up when he speaks — how despite having to retell Lu Han everything, his smile still becomes ten times brighter and excited laughter lingers beneath his words. Lu Han’s never seen him so vibrant before and it’s sort of truly breathtaking.

“Congratulations! I mean, you haven’t passed yet but congrats on going for the audition,” he says when Minseok finishes. “But I hope I don't regret this in the morning because I have class tomorrow.”

Minseok smiles and Lu Han feels so warm he thinks he’s melting. “You’d rather spend time with me instead of worrying about your classes tomorrow, right?”

The desperate and in love part of Lu Han almost exclaims an embarassing affirmative but the desperate and in love but still sensible part of him acts uninterested. Taking an elongated sip of his vodka, he changes the topic again, something he’s probably going to be doing a lot tonight.

When they stumble out of the bar an hour or so later, Minseok proposes they take a walk around the block and Lu Han, pleasantly buzzed and wondering if he can start spewing out cheap pick-up lines under the pretense that he’s more drunk than he actually is, agrees. He gathers enough courage to grab Minseok’s hand and twine their fingers together, feigning ignorance when the tiny actor looks up at him. Lu Han swims in the comfortable silence surrounding them, reveling in it because it’s just him and Minseok and it’s classic disney movie romantic. (If disney princes and princesses took semi-drunken walks around downtown city streets, that is). Minseok’s hand is small and warm. Lu Han tightens his grip on the hand in his.

“Are you putting the moves on me?”

Lu Han smiles inwardly at the slight squeeze Minseok returns. He harrumphes. “You wish. I’m just trying to keep my balance.”

“Oh really?” Minseok’s voice is filled with disbelief.

“Yeah. I don’t put the moves on anyone who doesn’t worship squirtle.”

Minseok laughs airily and punches Lu Han in the arm with enough power to make him wince. “You’re an idiot.”

“At least I’m above average height, short-stack.”

“You’re just like every other singer on the planet. All beauty and no brains.”

Gaining Minseok’s attention with a bump of his elbow, he wiggles his eyebrows. “So you think I’m hot?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Lu Han ignores him. “For a theatre diva, you’re not so bad looking yourself.”

Minseok rolls his eyes as he always does. “You’re definitely putting the moves on me.”

“Just trying to keep my balance.”

With a sharp tug of his hand, Minseok drags Lu Han down onto a bus stop bench next to him. Lu Han’s looking out for the next bus to pull up as Minseok presses closer to him and it takes all of Lu Han’s insecure willpower to not release Minseok’s hand in favor of hooking his arm over his shoulder. He turns his head to look at the bus schedule scrolling in blinding red LED lights behind them.

“Minseok?” His voice cracks as he glances down at the sudden added weight on his shoulder.

“Is this a problem?” The actor snuggles closer, pressing his cheek into his forearm.

Lu Han thinks he’s a demon out to steal his soul.

“…No?”

Minseok catches his eye with something between a smirk and a shy smile on his lips. “Good. Because I’m not moving.”

“What about when the bus comes?”

“You can carry me.”

When the bus comes, he doesn’t carry him. Minseok follows behind him and plops into the seat beside him, immediately gluing his face to Lu Han’s arm again. He doesn’t object; he sort of just sits there stiff and uncomfortable, squashing the pesky desire to thread his fingers in Minseok’s hair. (’Cause Minseok’s not asleep and that would be awkward. Minseok and the mood swings he has when he’s tired will eat Lu Han and his wandering fingers alive).

Minseok shakes his head as he closes Lu Han’s door behind him, watching the singer pat along the walls for the light switch to turn on the overhead light for the hallway. It isn’t long before Lu Han gives up, muttering in Chinese under his breath, and stalks toward his bedroom. Finding the switch for himself because this isn’t his house and he doesn’t know where anything is by heart, Minseok shuffles into the kitchen to find a glass and fill it to the brim with water. Nursing the liquid as he meanders to Lu Han’s room, he stops in the doorway.

“Are you going home, Minseokkie?”

Leaning against the frame, he watches Lu Han struggle to pull a shirt over his head. “Nothing good with come out of me going home this late,” he says, leaving out how he wants to stay so he can be with Lu Han and make sure he wakes up in time for class and cook breakfast in the morning for reasons not strictly platonic.

Lu Han makes a noise of success when he finally realizes the hole he was trying to shove his head into was one for his arms. “Why? Do you live with your boyfriend? Did he not want you to go out tonight?”

Halting in bringing the water to his lips, Minseok furrows his brows. “No, because I don’t have a boyfriend,” he drones, pushing away from the door frame. He trips over a very large chunk of air on his way over to Lu Han’s desk. Lu Han doesn’t see it so he pretends it didn’t happen.

“But what about that skyscraper dude?” Having finished changing, Lu Han searches through his clothes and pulls out a shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants, tossing the items in Minseok’s direction. “Aren’t you with him?”

“Nope,” he says through an obnoxious yawn. He tells Lu Han to drink the rest of the water as he grabs for the clothes provided for him, slipping out of his own shirt and pair of uncomfortable jeans. He crawls into Lu Han’s bed after neatly settling his clothes in a nice spot in the corner and it’s more his tiredness talking than his common sense but he explains; “He’s Xiumin’s boyfriend.”

“Who is Xiumin?” Lu Han questions, turning off all of the lights except for the small lamp on the endtable, falling into bed himself. In the back of his mind something tells him there is something off with this conversation but he choses to ignore it, not exactly in his right mind either.

Minseok shuts his eyes as he hums, not offering the other man an answer.

It doesn’t matter either way because Lu Han gets distracted from their tired conversation by the length of the actor’s eyelashes. Absentmindedly, he cups Minseok’s face, brushing the pad of his thumb over the squishy flesh of his cheek. "Minseok, can I kiss you?”

“No,” is the Korean’s exhausted, breathy reply.

“Oh, okay.”

Lu Han notices movement behind Minseok’s eyelids and he thinks he’s rolling his eyes at him even though they’re closed. It sounds like something Minseok would do. He wants to ask the other about it but then Minseok cracks his eyes open just a bit and something is covering his mouth and oh dear lord Lu Han’s being suffocated by Minseok’s lips and —

Oh.

Oh.

Before he knows it, Minseok’s back on his side of the bed, saying; “Your lips are dry.”

“Excuse me, sir, but you caught me off guard. I’m sorry if I didn’t have the chance to properly moisturize my lips," Lu Han says, barely able to hear himself over the sound of his thumping heart. He’s even more unprepared when Minseok presses their lips together again, another short kiss he doesn’t have enough time to commit to memory.

“Desert dry.”

“If it upsets you so much, do you want me to wet them?” He starts to do so when Minseok shakes his head.

“No because your brain will probably explode if I kiss you again.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

“Goodnight, Lu Han.” Minseok rolls over to his other side.

Lu Han stares at the back of his head for a half an hour before he falls asleep.

When Lu Han wakes up he wants to throw himself into the lion’s cage at the national zoo and let them rip apart his body like a cheap cat toy. Looking around his bedroom, he immediately notices how he’s the only one in his bed. Swiping his hand over the empty space to his right, he sighs. The sheets are cold. He might not be the lightest sleeper but he thinks he would have noticed Minseok getting up. Maybe Minseok slept in the spare bedroom. Or maybe he just dreamed he stayed over last night; like he must have dreamed about the kisses because there’s no way that happened in reality.

Rolling out of bed, he stumbles into the bathroom to freshen up, brushing his teeth and flattening his hair. As he struggles with a particularly defiant strand of hair, he frowns when he hears things clinking around. Confused over the sounds coming from the front of his apartment, he follows them to the kitchen where he finds Minseok moving about the kitchen. Stuck in the doorway with his mouth wide open, his eyes widen when Minseok turns around to grab a plate off the table and catches his surprised gaze.

Minseok smiles. “Good morning,” he greets, returning to the stove to transfer food to the plate.

“You’re…still here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d have something to do today.”

“Even if I did, it’d be rude of me to leave while you were still sleeping unless for an emergency.” Twisting the dial on the stove, Minseok grabs another plate and shovels the contents of another pan onto it. Bringing it to the table, he waves Lu Han over. “I hope you don’t mind Western food.”

“Not at all,” Lu Han mumbles, attention briefly stolen by the sight of the table.

The two plates in the center of the table are piled high with pancakes and strips of bacon and eggs. Tall glasses of orange juice are arranged neatly next to full glasses of water and another two empty plates meant for them. Everything is so proper and in place, Lu Han would think he's at a restaurant. It’s a bit much really. All this for breakfast? It’s like Minseok is his bored housewife or something. Wait. Does that mean he’s the man in this not-relationship? He’s never seen himself as the potential woman. Maybe this distinction will come in handy one day. Like when he’s buying Minseok an anniversary present and he’s not sure if he should splurge on an expensive bouquet of flowers or if he should just pluck a few out of the park around the corner. Does Minseok even like flowers? He should ask Minseok if he likes flowers.

Minseok pulls out a chair and falls into it, rubbing his palm over his face. “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to eat? Because I’ll kill you I cooked all of this for nothing.” He doesn’t know what he sees in Lu Han at all. Why couldn’t he have fallen for…nevermind. None of the people he knows are decent candidates.

He’s saved the hassle of needing to get back up and drag Lu Han to the table when the man recovers his basic motor skills and shuffles on over himself, taking the seat opposite him. Not another word is spoken as Minseok serves himself a decent, healthy serving of the breakfast foods, Lu Han waiting until he’s done to push his empty plate aside and grab those with the remainder of what Minseok didn’t take. Shoveling a mass of egg into his mouth, the actor watches at the other digs in. He’s not sure if he should be offended by Lu Han’s primitive eating methods or amazed the lean man intends to eat so much. Guess he doesn’t need to tell Lu Han he cooked too much and that they’ll need to set the others aside as leftovers. In relative peace, they eat, the tranquility only disturbed for a decent three minutes when Lu Han accidentally brushes his foot against Minseok’s and an under-the-table fight using their feet breaks out. They giggle and stick their tongues out each other for the five minutes after they admit a truce.

“I’m performing next week,” Lu Han says when they're finished eating, grabbing for a glass of juice. “You should come.”

“Will this be a date?” Minseok hides a smile behind his hand when Lu Han jerks his head and spits out his orange juice all over the floor.

“You did that on purpose,” he chokes out, hitting his chest with one hand as he gets up to grab a cleaning rag.

Minseok laughs as he’s brandished with it. “You have no proof of that.”

“You’re a terrible person,” Lu Han huffs, eyes narrowed as he slaps the towel over the puddle.

“You bring out the worst in me.” Minseok blows the younger man a kiss and grins when a sweet blush colors his face. “Joking aside, I’d love to watch you sing. I’ll sit in the front row and pretend you’re serenading me.” He places his hand over his heart. “I’m swooning just thinking about it.”

“You just said ‘joking aside’ and yet I think you’re still fooling around.” Lu Han tosses the soiled rag at the sink when he’s done with it, looking a little more red than before.

“Really? What gave you that idea?” Minseok teases.

Lu Han’s scowl and threats of a cruel, unusual punishment (which, most likely, is either tickling or the nerf gun) are more cute than worrisome and Minseok gets up from the table to pat the precious Chinese man’s cheeks. He clears the plates, dropping them into the sink to be washed. He doesn’t say anything when Lu Han elbows him out of the way none too softly, grabbing the sponge out of Minseok’s hands and giving him a dry towel. As they clean, Lu Han fills him in on the other details about his performance -- where and when it is but he doesn't tell Minseok what he's going to be singing. Minseok wishes Lu Han didn't have class so they could spend the day together but he does and so when the dishes are all cleaned and dry, he hugs the singer, uncaring of the damp hands wetting the back of his shirt, and tells Lu Han to have a good day. When Lu Han walks him to the door, he almost kisses him goodbye but Lu Han hasn't said anything about last night yet so he doesn't. Waiting for the elevator at the end of the hall, Minseok thinks he shouldn't have chickened out.

Teeth dig into the back of his neck and Baekhyun groans, unable to help himself despite the influx of students passing through the hall. One or two of them glance at him, disapproval clear in their eyes, but he doesn’t notice, solely focused on the lips teasing his skin. He twists his arm behind his head and weaves his fingers into the head of hair there. Sehun hums contently and Baekhyun can’t contain the shudder that wracks his body at the vibrations where’s he’s most sensitive. He tightens his grip on the short strands until the arms settled around his waist loosen and Sehun backs off enough for him to drag the boy from behind him.

Sehun shouts, swatting at Baekhyun. “Can you please find another way to discipline me other than pulling my hair. I’ll be bald before I know it.”

Baekhyun tugs at the dancer’s hair just to hear him yelp in pain again. “Can you stop being a horndog? What are you doing here in the first place. You don’t have class today.” He lets the boy go, folding his arms. What time is it, he wonders. Lu Han promised they would get lunch together. He’ll throw himself out of the nearest window if he has to spend the day with this ert.

“I wanted to see you. A guy can’t want to spend time with his lover?” Sehun pouts. It’s the most disgusting thing Baekhyun’s ever seen, to be honest.

“I’m sure there are certain requirements for someone to be considered a ‘lover’ and we have fulfilled none of them.”

“Don’t be like that, Tiramisu.” Sehun worms his arm back around Baekhyun’s waist, grinning innocently at the glare he’s given. “I won’t try anything. I promise. At least not for the next hour. Maybe two if you buy me bubble tea. It calms my libido.”

Baekhyun sighs. Only two hours. Hopefully Lu Han will show up soon.

Wiping his hands on the front of his pants, smudging oil and grease into the faded dark blue denim, he backs the door of the garage lobby open. Some of the other guys loitering around wave and he flashes a stained middle finger at them. He’s waist-deep in oil and they’re sitting around, gossiping like there isn’t work to be done. They’re still sitting out there when he comes out of the bathroom, hands dripping wet, but now they’ve pulled out playing cards. One of them calls him over, asking if he wants to join their game, they’re just starting, and Chanyeol comes so close to gutting someone and proposing they skip rope with their intestines. He almost goes through with his homicidal intent but something stands out in the corner of his eye. Leaving the slacking men he has the pleasure of working with, he wanders outside, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he walks out to the parking lot.

“What are you doing?”

Kris slams his trunk closed as soon as the question leaves Chanyeol’s mouth and leans against the of his car. “Nothing that concerns you.”

Chanyeol shifts his weight and looks to the overcast sky, wishing he had a smoke because this is too much for him to be dealing with today. “As your superior, everything that happens on this property is my business.”

"Your dad may own the place but you have nothing over me." Kris steps away from his car and closer to Chanyeol.

Chanyeol chuckles but there's no amusement to the sound. He tilts his head, deadpan. "If it weren't for me you wouldn't be working here and I'm the one who issues your paycheck. Not my father. What were you doing?"

"Nothing that concerns you. I have to say, Chanyeol, you've changed. You never gave a about what I was doing before. What happened to the heartless I used to actually enjoy talking with?" Raising an eyebrow, Kris his teeth. As he walks around Chanyeol to head back into the garage, he makes the grave mistake of patting his shoulder.

The suppressed anger he's been feeling all day bubbles over and he snarls, grabbing Kris' hand before it barely leaves his shoulder. Yanking him back, he rushes him into the back side door and clamps his hand over Kris' face, digging his fingers into the taller man's temple and forcing his head through the glass window. Lowering his hand to the sweat-soaked collar of Kris' white tee, he balls his fist to jerk his arm back, slamming Kris' head against the crease between the inside ceiling of the car and the door.

"Chanyeol!"

He turns his head just enough to see Minjun standing in the lobby doorway, hand of cards crumpled in his grasp, yanking his arm back again when Kris starts to struggle, hissing curses and threats that sound like children's books to Chanyeol.

"If you're gonna fight, do it in the back! You're gonna scare people away."

Chanyeol cracks the slightest of smiles. "I'm done anyway." Releasing Kris, he opens the trunk and snatches the canister of motor oil he caught Kris smuggling earlier. Passing the man squirming out of the window, Chanyeol lazily pushes his head back down. "The Chanyeol you know hasn't gone anywhere. He's just tired of your bull. Next time, don't play games with me."

Xiumin inhales sharply, reflexively shoving the invasive face out of his personal space. It takes him a while to put a name to the familiar face.

“Minseok! You’re awake!”

He scans Lu Han’s face, twisted with worry, and the room he’s in, not recognizing it or any of the equally concerned bystanders staring at him. “Where am I,” he whispers. Slowly, he sits up, casting an unsure glance at the plush couch beneath him.

Lu Han frowns, inching closer to Xiumin and placing a hand on his forehead. “This is the lobby. I was on my way to class when I saw everyone crowded around you. The guy at the desk said you fainted on your way out. You've been out for at least an hour. Do you want me to call for an ambulance?”

“No.” He removes Lu Han’s hand from his face as his cheeks warm. “Don’t call.”

“Minseok…” Lu Han tries to convince Xiumin to let him call the hospital.

But Xiumin isn’t listening anymore. He didn’t notice it before — he can’t believe he missed it — too distracted by the sudden sight of Lu Han and the strange surroundings. He doesn’t feel like himself.

He feels…empty.

“Minseok?” Xiumin calls mentally, hoping for any kind of clue from his other half. As expected, there’s no response. But he needs one. Because maybe he’s still disoriented, still trying to recover from his apparent fainting spell, but he doesn’t know where Minseok is. It’s not as much of a feeling as it is a sense that the other’s conscious is somewhere cohabiting with his own, but there’s nothing there right now; and he doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t notice he’s crying until Lu Han cradles his face in his hands and wipes his tears.

“You’re scaring me,” he says, tone quiet and careful as he brushes the back of his hand across Xiumin’s left cheek. “I’m going to make the call, okay?”

Xiumin shakes his head. He doesn’t want to go to the hospital. He doesn’t have room to argue because the edges of his vision blur and he’s falling into Lu Han, the Chinese man calling out Minseok’s name in shock, unconscious again.