They met at Sehun’s first shoot.

He was taller than Luhan (well, he’s still taller than Luhan) and barely old enough to buy his own cigarettes. He had a face made for a magazine, a lean, precisely cut body, and a voice that made Luhan’s skin tingle, though Luhan would never voice that particular bit.

He looked stunning in a suit, Luhan could admit that much. All clean cut black, a neatly pressed skinny tie, hair coifed in a mess of waves and eyes traced in thick smears of kohl that reminded Luhan of smoke.

To be honest, everything about Sehun reminded him of smoke; so dark and chokingly there before your eyes but slipping through your fingers the moment you reached out to grasp it.