They met at Sehun’s first shoot.

He was taller than Luhan (well, he’s still taller than Luhan) and was 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.

The stylists were toying with Sehun’s hair again when Luhan took the seat beside him. Sehun turned and caught his gaze from the corner of his eye.

On the outside, he was composed, but Luhan could see past it. He’d been in this business to long not to. There were the tell tale trembling fingers and the curious way his eyes darted from the mirror to Luhan to the stylists to Luhan to fluttering shut.

“You’ll be fine,” Luhan had said, pretending to be interested in his phone. He swallowed and dropped his phone in his lap before busying himself with his tie. “Just don’t think too much about what you’re doing. If you act natural, it will look natural.”

Sehun stared at him, all sleepy drooping eyes trailing with wisps of smoke. “Thanks,” he said quietly, his tongue catching against the roof of his mouth and trailing out the s with a bit of a lisp. Luhan smiled down at his hands.

He didn’t notice that he lost a bit of himself to that voice right then.

When they were beside each other on the black leather sofa, the entire room encased with pure white walls and echoing with directions and blinding flashes of light, Luhan had wrapped his arm around Sehun’s shoulder and turned to face him. Sehun kept his eyes focused forward on the cameras as Luhan leaned close, lips nearly brushing his ear as Sehun’s spine stiffened.

“Natural,” he hummed under his breath. “You look constipated.”

Sehun had smiled, chuckled even, and it was so blindingly beautiful that even the photographer had to catch his breath.

Luhan is tired.

So much time had passed since that day and the two of them were joined at the hip. They became a package deal; book Luhan, you get Sehun too, and vice versa. Luhan doesn’t mind, likes it even, but he can never tell what Sehun feels because he often thinks Sehun doesn’t feel anything at all.

He’s resting in one of the salon chairs, half asleep and half wondering where Sehun has run off to. It’s been a particularly long job and his eyelids are heavy, thick lashes drooping down to brush against his cheeks as he yawns. He craves his warm bed or a cup of coffee or maybe both if he’s lucky.

“Good job, Luhan,” his manager says far too loudly for Luhan’s liking, clapping him on the back with a grin. Luhan stiffens in his chair. “The shoot went great and the prints are already looking perfect. The two of you never disappoint.”

Luhan nods and gives him a slight smile, sitting up and slipping from his chair before brushing past him a bit too curtly. He knows that he shouldn’t be this rude and passive, especially not to his manager, but all he wants to do is find Sehun and go home, whatever that is.

And he does finds Sehun, with his back pressed against the brick wall of the venue and collar tugged up against the cool nighttime wind. It’s not hard, really; Sehun likes secluded places so that’s where Luhan always looks first. There’s a cigarette dangling from his lips and a borderline empty lighter clutched in between shaking fingers, more caffeine and nicotine pumping through his veins than blood.

Luhan can’t help but notice the way he’s made of skin and bones, barely held together by coffee and cancer sticks. There are dark bags his eyes, still half covered by pale makeup and Luhan sees the way he leans against the wall like it’s the only thing keeping him from crumbling to the ground.

With a small huff, Luhan snatches the lighter from him and gives Sehun his most convincing scowl. “Didn’t I tell you to cut that habit already? You’re skinny enough Sehun, cigarettes aren’t going to change anything.” Sehun hums in a sort of disagreement low under his breath and reaches for the lighter again, his eyes tired and lips parting in agitation. Luhan sighs and swears under his breath and gives in, because he’s tired and he can only try to act like he’s doing something good for so long.

Sehun takes a lengthy drag and sighs a cloud of smoke and exhaustion. Luhan fidgets. He’s still wearing the outfit from the shoot and the glitter is starting to itch at his skin.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

Sehun doesn’t seem to process the question and instead rubs at his eyes with his free hand. Luhan nudges his ribs gently and swallows when all he feels is bones, bones, bones. “Sehun.”

“Hm. What was that, hyung?”

Luhan frowns and toys with the hem of Sehun’s jacket. Sehun swats him away gently. “I said, when’s the last time you slept?”

Sehun pauses and his noses crinkles slightly, the way it does whenever he’s in deep thought. Luhan thinks it’s horrible cute. “Um, not too long ago I guess. You know, naps here and there. The schedule has been pretty hectic lately.”

Yes, he knows all to well. He studies Sehun face, all cheekbones and arches and those sleepy eyes he loves so much. There’s a dark smudge of eyeliner smeared under his eye and Luhan wets his thumb with a swipe of his tongue before scrubbing at it gently, ignoring Sehun’s protests. “Sehun, we both know you don’t take naps. When’s the last time you actually slept?”

Sehun frowns and crushes the cigarette under his boot. “Two, three days ago? I think.”

Luhan sighs and Sehun avoids his searching gaze, ducking beneath his arm and mumbling something about getting back to work. Luhan watches as he retreats back to the building and slips through the door like smoke.

Luhan follows, because he always has and he always will.

Luhan like Sleepy Sehun the best.

Not Tired Sehun, no, not even close; Tired Sehun is after a particularly long Givenchy shoot when he’s run out of cigarettes. Tired Sehun is hyung do you think I could crash at your place tonight and haphazard blankets tossed on the sofa. Tired Sehun is silence and hooded eyes and trembling fingers tapping against the counter tops because Tired Sehun is every moment of every day.

Sleepy Sehun is thick tongued, sleep laced, scrunch nosed adorableness crawling into Luhan’s bed when he can’t sleep. Sleepy Sehun is searching hands under Luhan’s blankets that find solace in the warm skin of his waist where his t-shirt has ridden up. Sleepy Sehun is the barely pink hours of dawn and soft murmurs of I don’t want to get up yet Hyung just five more minutes.

This is the Sehun that Luhan likes the best, mostly because Sehun is happiest when he’s Sleepy Sehun and not just Tired. Sleepy Sehun smiles and god does Luhan like that smile.

Luhan is happiest when he wakes up on a morning where there are no photoshoots to rush to, no makeup to slather on, and no tight clothes to drape over his bones. He likes being curled up in a rush of blankets with Sehun’s breath warm against his neck and his hair fanned out across the pillow, likes waking up and not feeling the buzz of morning adrenaline forcing him from his bed.

On mornings like this, mornings like today, he slips out from under Sehun’s heavy arm and leaves the bed warm in his wake. He shuffles to the kitchen and fishes for two mugs in the sink before flicking on the switch to bring the coffee maker to life. He presses his back against the countertop and shuts his eyes, listening to the soft quiet of his apartment until Sehun breaks it with some shuffling from the bedroom and a few loud curses when he trips over Luhan’s array of suitcases.

He yawns his way into the kitchen, stirred to life with the promise of coffee and hair twisted up into a bird’s nest.

“Thanks for letting me stay here last night, hyung,” Sehun murmurs, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes with a cutely curled fist. He pats at his pockets in a search for his cigarettes before glancing down and realizing he’s only wearing boxers.

“You know you’re always welcome.” He means it. Sehun’s apartment is in the middle of one of the worst neighborhoods in town. It would cause Luhan less stress if the younger just stayed here every night. “I was trying to let you sleep in some,” he chides.

Sehun shrugs and glances around the kitchen. “Where did I-” He cuts himself off when he spots his jeans and fishes around in the pockets for a few moments before slipping out onto the balcony without a sound.

Luhan turns back to the coffee pot and tries to focus on the rich aroma instead of the warmth of Sehun beside him when they’re sleeping side by side.

They only kissed once.

It was after the photoshoot. The one that was supposed to send their careers skyrocketing and send them on the path to becoming rich. Which, in fact, it did; they were booked completely afterwards, day and night, the two of them always working in a team as per usual.

The manager gave them the night off as a reward, which they promptly used to get completely plastered at the most popular club in the city.

Eight shots and a few apple martinis later (Luhan teased Sehun for drinking “feminine alcohol”) Sehun was drunk enough to drag a buzzed Luhan to the men’s room and shove him up against the door of a cubicle.

His lips were soft but persistently rough, catching Luhan’s in kiss after kiss after kiss until both of them were too drunk on affection to even feel the effects of the alcohol anymore. It wasn’t until Luhan’s hands s beneath Sehun’s shirt to press against his abdomen that the other jerked away, eyes hazed over with something unreadable.

“God, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, rushing past Luhan and leaving the door swinging in his wake.

Luhan had stood there, back pressed against the cubicle, with don’t go please I love you stuck in his throat.

Sehun never mentions the kiss, not the next day, nor the next month. Luhan tells himself that he must not remember it, considering how wasted the other was, though he remembers it perfectly himself. To be honest, he didn’t want to forget it.  But they had simply ignored the whole thing and fallen back into routine because that was all they knew how to do.

“You look ridiculous,” Sehun murmurs, nursing a cup of bubble tea (a rare exchange from the usual Pike Place Medium Roast with two sugars) as the stylists tut over his eyeliner. Luhan huffs and crinkles his nose in distaste, peering at his reflection in the mirror and fluffing at his hair.

“God, I know, it looks like someone took a lawn mower to my head.” He frowns down at his phone and checks the time, stomach purring in response. “Hey, you hungry? We could go get something to eat.”

Sehun shrugs and takes another sip of his tea. “Not right now,” he answers quietly. “Don’t we have to start shooting soon anyway? Manager hyung will be mad if we’re late.” Luhan brushes him off and searches the pockets of his coat for his wallet.

“We’ll be fine,” he mutters, frowning when his search comes up with only a few spearmint gum wrappers. “And how are you not hungry? We didn’t eat dinner last night, and I’ve never seen you eat breakfast in the entire time I’ve known you.”

Sehun shrugs and finishes off his tea. “I’m just not.” He shoves his chair away from the table, startling the stylists. “I need a smoke.”

Luhan frowns at his retreating figure, the silhouette made of only protruding bones and a dash of heartbeat.

Sehun stands near the window in Luhan’s bedroom, tugging his shirt over his head with tired limbs. He shuffles towards the bed where Luhan is curled, dampening his tongue with a swipe of his lips. The moonlight illuminates him from behind and Luhan frowns.

Sehun is beautiful, but he’s wasting away.

“Sehun, look at you,” Luhan whispers, reaching out to link his finger through Sehun’s belt loop and tug him down to the bed. “You’re skin and bones. This isn’t healthy, you’re killing yourself.”

Sehun scoffs, eyes drooping low. “You can’t honestly be chiding me for being too thin. If anything, I’m not thin enough,” he says. He pinches at his waist and grits his teeth. “And look at you, you’re being a hypocrite. You could fit in an envelope.”

Luhan glances down at the sharp curve of his hipbones covered in a tight sheen of skin and swallows. “At least I eat,” he mutters. “You’re starving yourself. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Sehun narrows his eyes and purses his lips. “It’s my job.”

Luhan rolls his eyes. “Your job isn’t to kill yourself.”

Sehun pauses and his fingers curl into the blanket. Luhan wishes that he would just give it up already, eat something that was really food and fall asleep beside him. “Why does it even matter to you? Can’t you just leave me alone? You’re always nagging at me. Just leave me alone for once, hyung. It’s my life.”

Luhan swallows. The clock on the wall ticks, one, two, three.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” Sehun whispers. His voice breaks and he runs a hand through his hair, tugging a blanket after him as he shuts Luhan’s door, leaving the older alone.

They don’t talk in the morning, but Luhan didn’t expect anything else.

Photoshoots are painful. The manager notices the obvious rift between the two of them and tugs Luhan away from the set, a bruising grip on his wrist.

“You have to fix it,” he hisses, eyebrows furrowed and teeth clenched. “Now.” Luhan shrugs him away and rubs agitatedly at his wrist.

“Don’t you think I’m trying?”

It’s raining when Luhan walks to his apartment.

He’s always hated this part of town, wonders why Sehun even bothers to stay here when their shoots have been so successful lately. It’s scary, all dark shadows and alleys and car alarms at four in the morning.

He raps at the door with 452 embellished on the wood and tries to ignore the cursory glances that the man next door keeps sending him. He tugs his collar up further and runs a hand through his damp hair, regretting the decision not to bring an umbrella.

He’s about to knock again when he hears the deadbolt, a swift click, and the door cracks open. Sehun peers out from beneath the chain and his sleepy eyes widen. “Hyung?”

“Hi Sehun,” he answers.

Sehun shuts the door and Luhan hears the chain fall before it creaks open tentatively again. “Um, come in, I guess.”

Luhan has only been here twice before; both times it was barren, even dismal. Just a bed surrounded by a few towers of books and an overflowing closet. The kitchen is a bit livelier, despite the ashtray beside the sink and a few scattered mugs here and there. Sehun hoists himself up onto the countertop with frail arms and lets his heels rest against the marred wood of the cabinets.

“Did you need anything particular?” Luhan strips off his jacket and rests it on the back of a chair, frowning.

“No, I, um, I wanted to say sorry.”

Sehun plays with the string of his hooded sweatshirt and gazes into his lap. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he says softly. He folds his hands together and knots them at the knuckles.

“No, I shouldn’t have, you know, tried to control you and bothered you so much. I guess I just care a lot about you and I was just scared that I was going to lose you.” Luhan swallows and purses his lips, tries not to notice the way Sehun’s hooded eyes are scrutinizing him.

He glances up and meets Sehun’s eyes, head cocked slightly to the side. He tries out a smile but it feels forced. “We’re friends, right? I have to worry about my friends, it’s my duty.” He laughs dryly.

“Luhan,” Sehun murmurs, formalities dropped. Luhan’s eyes widen in surprise. “Come here.” He pauses and rocks forward on his toes before taking a hesitant step forward. Sehun nods once and he takes another step, hands limp at his sides.

Sehun reaches out and finds Luhan’s hand, presses their palms together and linking their fingers. “Luhan,” he says again. “Do you love me?”

Luhan’s breath hitches in his throat. He tries to croak out a response. “Do I um, do I what?”

“Do you love me?” Sehun murmurs again. “Do you love me like I love you?”

Luhan’s hips collide with the counter top when Sehun roughly tugs him forward and catches his lips in his own. It’s fast and it’s not choreographed in the least.  Sehun tangles his fingers in Luhan’s hair andtugs, making him gasp, and Sehun takes to opportunity to press their kiss even deeper. Luhan’s hands rest on Sehun’s waist and he struggles to form a coherent thought, anything other than the way Sehun is panting against his lips.

Sehun is smoke gray against the sky.

Sehun is water flowing through Luhan’s fingertips and splattering on the floor.

Sehun is bones, and skin, and love, and

Sehun is

He breaks away, takes a breath. “Yes, Sehun, I love you so much it hurts.”

Luhan wakes up to a bed with one side empty, the pillow cold and sheets tousled in his sleep. He lifts his head and his heart pounds against his chest, elbows supporting him as he panics and

“Coffee?” Sehun asks softly from the doorway, cigarette hanging from his lips and two mugs clutched in his hands.

“Please,” Luhan exhales, flopping back against the pillow with a small smile. Sehun sets down the mugs and abandons the cigarette in the ashtray, crawling across the mess of blankets to reach where Luhan lies. He snuggles up against Luhan’s chest and buries his nose in the fabric of his t-shirt. Luhan curls against him, savors the warmth of his musky skin and the softness of the lips pressed against his neck.

Sehun is his.