“I don’t think he’s going to get lost, Luhan,” Kris teases. “You don’t really need to hold his hand.”

Sehun immediately protests.

“I have a bad sense of direction!” he declares. “I could be in Korea one day and France the next!”

“It’s true,” Kai agrees reluctantly. “One day we were getting food and we told him to meet us at the restaurant, but he ended up two districts away and couldn’t find his way back for three hours.”

“Whatever,” Kris shrugs. “They’re your hands.”

Sehun grins and snatches up Luhan’s hand. It’s warm and soft and just the right shape and size to fit into Sehun’s, and it’s not like other hands--it never gets too sweaty or too cramped. It’s quite perfect, Sehun decides, just like the rest of Luhan.

“Let’s go, hyung!” he chirps cheerfully when Luhan smiles back at him.

It’s only until they’re a safe distance away from the others and Luhan’s whispering something in his ear that Sehun’s shoulders slump in relief. His sense of direction is bad, but it’s not that bad. The truth is he needs his hand in Luhan’s so the older can guide him and tell him what to do. Not only to tell him that he needs his passport now and now, but also to tell him that everything’s going to be fine. No matter how horrible that pimple seems now or how bad his calves hurt after dance practice, he just needs to breathe in Luhan and breathe out all his worries.