“Luhan, hold my bag. I need to try this on.”

“Why can’t you just take it?”

“I can’t. Just stay there and don’t move.”

Zitao’s command is followed promptly by a Gucci bag to Luhan’s chest, and he staggers backward from the impact. When he recovers from the near-fall he tries adjusting the bag’s position in his arms, but every position he tries is too uncomfortable or too painful or requires too much effort, so in the end he sits on a nearby bench, winded and grumbling.

What the hell is in here? How can Zitao carry this? he thinks to himself as he catches his breath. How can make me carry his bag? What happened to respect for your elders? This is ridiculous. I’m just going to leave and he can forget about his precious bag.

When Zitao opens the door a sliver Luhan’s heart flares with hope because he thinks he’ll finally be freed, but Tao only wants his phone so he can check the prices with another store he visited with Yixing the other day. Sighing, Luhan hands him the phone and sits back down, leaning against the wall.

“How’d it happen to you?” comes a voice from his left, like they’re survivors of a horrible disease. Luhan swivels to find a boy about his age, tall and skinny with protruding collarbones and dyed silver hair.

“What do you mean?” Luhan asks.

“How’d you get dragged onto a shopping trip? That is how you ended up with a Gucci bag on your lap, isn’t it?”

“Oh.” Luhan frowns, remembering. “We’re roommates. He used aegyo. Now I’m here.”

The boy laughs. “Pretty much the same here. Jongin is very persuasive.” He pauses, and then extends a hand in Luhan’s direction. “My name’s Sehun, by the way.”

Luhan takes his hand and is surprised by how rough it is. “Luhan. Do you play the guitar?”

“Wow, how did you know that?”

“I’m in a band.” Luhan doesn’t mention why he knows the texture of guitarists’ hands so well.

Sehun laughs again. “That’s really funny. I’m in a band too.”

Luhan smiles. “I guess we’re a lot alike, huh?”

“I guess we are,” Sehun agrees.