Kris staggers back at little at Luhan's words, his hand dropping from the door handle. "Dead?" He his dry lips, tongue sliding over chapped skin. "What do you mean, dead?"

"I mean dead," Luhan says. "I mean buried in the ground somewhere, with a coffin cover two inches above her face. She's dead, and she's not coming back."

It sounds a little like Luhan's talking to himself.

Kris doesn't know what to say. What is there to say, when your son, someone who isn't even supposed to exist, turns up in your apartment and tells you that his mother is dead?

No, he thinks. I don't have to say anything. Because if I do, the first words that come out of my mouth will be something that I didn't mean to say, and then I'll start falling apart and−

Kris takes a shuddering breath. Another question, he tells himself. Ask something else. He turns on the easiest question. "How did you get in here?"

Luhan isn't impressed. "That's what you ask me? Don't you want to know where I've been my whole life? How old I am? How Mom died? Aren't you going to bother asking?"

"How, then?" Kris looks at his...his son in the eye. "How did she die?"

There's silence for a few moments, filled by ragged breathing; Kris doesn't know who it's coming from. "Pneumonia," Luhan says finally. "She said−well, tried to say− her last moments weren't painful, but I know it was a lie."

Kris in a sharp breath. Move on, his mind tells him. Don't think about it, and it won't hurt. You won't feel guilty. You won't wonder what you could have done. But his mouth has a mind of its own. "Is there anything she wanted to say to me?"

"No." The response is immediate, and at the same time, it comes a millisecond too late, betraying hesitance.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Luhan says, expression hardening. "Don't you think it's a bit much, expecting last goodbyes and words from a woman who you didn't pay the same courtesy to?"

Kris' jaw drops. The words sting him, hitting a nerve that hasn't been provoked in a long while. It hurts, hearing it, even though he knows it's true. "She told you, then?"

Luhan laughs once, though it sounds more like a humourless snort. "Mom told me everything; she never  hid anything from me. I knew your name from the moment my brain learnt to remember names." He pauses for a moment, and in that moment, Kris sees a child, wide-eyed and just a little more than hurt. "You know, she made an effort to make sure your name was the first word I said. Not 'Dad' or anything, just 'Kris'. It's funny, really−"

"Stop. Just stop." Kris holds up a hand, eyes closed, his fingers itching to pinch the bridge of his nose. The sound of Luhan's voice is starting to press in on the walls of his ears. "Why are you here? How did you find me?"

"I'm here because I want you to see her."

Kris looks at him in disbelief. "Your mother? But she's−"

"I know she's dead," Luhan snaps. "What I meant was...I want you to visit her grave, just once."

Visit her grave? The grave of the woman, like Luhan had reminded him, who he had never said a proper goodbye to?

Kris considers it for a moment, and thinks of standing in front of a cold headstone, flowers in hand, mind flicking through a roll of memories that have long faded and passed their prime colours.

Do I even have the right to think about those memories anymore?

"No." His voice sounds harsh, even to his own ears. "I'm not going."

"What?" Luhan's forehead creases, disbelief lurking in the folds of his frown."If you loved her−"

"I didn't love her," Kris says, a little too loudly.

"That's a lie." Fists clenched, trembling by the boy's sides. "The way she talked about you..."

Kris' heart is throbbing in his ears; too loud, too fast. He doesn't want to hear what Yoona told their son about him. He doesn't want to know all the things she wanted Luhan to know about him, things he could have told Luhan himself if he'd been around. But he wasn't. "I told you to stop."

"You were the one who asked−"

"Listen, I don't know where you came from, or how long it took you to get here, but I'm telling you now, kid, that I can't help you. Whatever it is that you want, I can't give it to you." Kris stares long and hard at the boy, and realises that there's a little bit of him in the kid's face, too. Something in the lines of their jaws. But what does that matter? The thought is useless; there's no space in his mind for him to be thinking things like this. "Go home."

"I can't. There's nowhere to go." He gives a small shrug. It was probably supposed to look casual, Kris thinks, but it's anything but. "I suppose I'll find somewhere eventually, but for now, I'm not leaving until you come and see her."

"I already told you that I'm not going."

"You will go," Luhan says firmly. "And until then, I'm not leaving."

Kris fixes Luhan with a stare, but the younger doesn't back down and stares right back, his gaze just as intense as the  look in his father's eyes. It says, You don't have a right to look at me like this, or tell me what to do. Not after all the years that you threw away.

After a long while, Kris throws his hands up. "Whatever. Do whatever you want."

He storms off to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Kris knows that he's being harsh, but for the moment, he doesn't really care. Some part of him is still in denial. I have a son, he keeps thinking.

Why hadn't Yoona told him, all those years ago, that she was pregnant?

Because you weren't there, Kris reminds himself. You thought it was just a summer fling and when it was over, you pushed her away and left her.

And now she's dead.

Kris exhales, the sound long and loud in the stale silence. He slides down the door, tipping his head into his hands and kneading his closed eyes with his knuckles.

I have a son.

He wonders what it would have been like if Yoona was still alive and had gathered the courage to come to him with Luhan and introduced their son to him. What would I have done?

Would I have pushed the both of them away, just like what I'm doing now?

Yes, he answers himself.

Kris would have argued that there was no space. No space in his life for them. It's an excuse that he's repeated into invalidity, and now it's just another way to deny himself the things he would have had in a normal life and can no longer have without sacrifice.

What will his brothers say when they find out?

Kris wonders if he'll even tell him. He can't, can he, because then they'll tell him to leave behind this life and look after the kid.

They would ask him how he would feel if their own dad abandoned him, and urge him not to leave the child alone in the world. Sure, Luhan shouldn't exist, and Kris really should have been more careful, but nothing can be done about that now.

That's what they, his brothers, would say, he knows.

Which is why he can't tell them about Luhan. Not just yet.

Kris reaches into his pocket and brings out his phone, hoping that Minseok, who had always been the most reasonable, isn't too drunk by now to answer his phone.

Thankfully, he isn't. His half-brother answers on the third ring, and Kris knows that Minseok's sober, because if he wasn't, his phone would be on the floor in a mess of plastic shards, just like last time.

Deafening music pumps in the background (so much for 'nothing big', Kris thinks), and Minseok assaults his ears as he yells, "Wait a second, Kris, I'll go outside so I can hear you better!"

Kris waits a few moments, holding the phone at arm's length until the sound of the music subsides. He brings the phone to his ear again, just as Minseok starts speaking.

"−really sorry about that, it was Jongdae's idea," Minseok is saying. He pauses when he hears nothing coming from Kris' end. "What's up, Kris?"

Kris swallows. "Can you guys not come home tonight?"

"Why not?" Minseok's voice is coloured with suspicion. "Do you have someone over?"

"No." It's the truth. Minseok's tone had implied that he has a woman over right now, which isn't true. Kris wishes it was; it'd be a whole lot easier than this.

"Really, now." Minseok doesn't sound convinced.

Kris sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Well, you could say that someone's over. It's complicated."

"Explain."

"I can't right now," Kris says. "I'll tell you everything when I see you next. Just... trust me on this. Stay somewhere else tonight."

Minseok considers it for a few moments, before he says, "Okay. But where are we supposed to stay?"

Kris shrugs, even though he knows Minseok won't see it. "I don't know. A hotel, if you want."

"Tao's gonna be pissed."

"I know." Kris sighs again. Tao will just have to put up with it. At least his problems will only involve, at most, a bad hotel room and a hangover.

He hangs up after Minseok murmurs a goodbye. The phone drops out of his hand and onto the floor, but Kris doesn't bother to check if it's okay.

He doesn't know how much time has passed since he first entered his room, but he figures it's been a while. After a few moments of hesitation, he gets to his feet and eases the door open slowly.

The lights of the apartment have been turned off, and the TV is blaring nonsense, illuminating the room in a bluish glow. Kris creeps into the living room and sees Luhan fast asleep in the couch, his arm dangling over the side, with the remote almost slipping out of his clutch.

Kris pries the remote out of Luhan's hand and turns the TV off, setting the remote on the table gently before turning to look at his... son.

It's strange, he thinks, acknowledging that the boy in front of him really is his son.

To be honest, he had given up the idea of parenthood long ago, and it doesn't seem like that's going to change any time soon. Sure, Luhan is, by blood and biological data, his son, but Kris knows that he has no right to the title 'father'. Being a parent is just another one of those things that he doesn't have space for in his life.

In sleep, Kris thinks that Luhan looks even younger than he already does. The curls of his hair fall into his eyes, tickling his lashes and hiding the slight frown that dances across his brow. His mouth isn't set into the hard line that it was when he'd been talking to Kris; on closer inspection, Kris notices that Luhan has his mother's lips. Yoona's lips. The ones that used to smile at him and have now been reincarnated on the face of a boy who won't do the same.

Luhan turns over, as if sensing his presence, and shivers slightly, drawing his arms around himself. He clutches his shoulders with white hands and Kris realises that the window is open and Luhan has no blankets.

He walks over to the window and slides it shut, before disappearing into his room and returning with a blanket.

Gently, very gently, and without knowing exactly why he's doing this, Kris drapes the blanket over Luhan's shoulders, pulling it up to the boy's chin.

When he's done, he steps away quickly, afraid that Luhan will stir and push the blanket off his body.

He casts the boy one last glance before going back to his room, closing the door behind him.

On second thought, Kris opens the door again, leaving it slightly ajar.

So much for being alone tonight.

***

Kris doesn't know whether to be irritated or surprised when he sees that Luhan is still there when he wakes up. The boy is in the kitchen when Kris drags himself out of bed, pouring himself some orange juice.

Orange juice. Yoona hardly drank anything else.  

Kris swallows, wishing that the juice hadn't been in the fridge. It's not like he drinks it, anyway.

He clears his throat.

He doesn't know if he expected to frighten the boy, but when Luhan looks up, he doesn't even jump or look the least bit surprised to see him. In fact, the boy's stare is unnervingly blank.

"I'm going to a schedule this morning," Kris tells him. "My brothers are staying somewhere else, but they should be back here at some time during the day. I think it's best if you're not here when that happens."

There's a thunk as the juice carton collides with the bench suddenly, juice sloshing out; Luhan has slammed it down with surprising force. "Why?"

Though Luhan's eyes are still blank, it takes Kris a moment to realise that he's angry. He swallows."They're going to wonder who you are."

"So why don't you just tell them?"

Kris searches for the right words, the least insensitive way to phrase what he wants to say. "Because−"

"Oh, that's right," Luhan says coldly, cutting him off. "Because I'm not supposed to exist. I was an accident, and you don't want to explain to your brothers that one mistake you made has left you stuck with me."

Kris gapes. "I−"

"Don't bother," Luhan says. "I'm done with pity. People think that I need it, but I don't, especially not from you."

Kris opens his mouth to say something, but Luhan continues. "Have you ever thought about how I feel? Do you know what it's like to look at other people, at the simple things that they have and you don't, and wonder, for sixteen years, why you had to be different?"

I do know what it's like, Kris thinks. I really do. He thinks that Luhan has accurately summed up the last 16 years of his life into one sentence, and he realises that they're the same. They're both a little broken, a little lost, and Kris knows that if Luhan is around him, nothing will change for either of them.

"I know what it's like. And I know you're only here because you want me to visit your mother's grave," Kris finally manages to choke out. Not because you actually wanted to see me. "But I'm telling you now that it's best if you leave, because I don't want to go."

"I'm not asking you about what you want!" Luhan finally breaks, yelling out his frustration. Even his eyes seem to tremble. "I'm not giving you a choice, and I'm not leaving until you come with me. Don't you think it's time for you to stop being selfish? Today, of all days, would be the best time to start."

Kris can't help the question that escapes his lips. "Why today?"

"It's June 3. The day I was born." Kris notices that Luhan doesn't say 'my birthday', as if he is highlighting the fact that it's not something his father should know. "You weren't there, remember?"

There's silence as Kris' mouth opens and closes, lost for words. What are you supposed to say to your son, when your only excuse is that you didn't know? He knows that it won't be good enough.

"Today, of all days, I want you to do what you were supposed to do 16 summers ago," Luhan says. "You were supposed to be there, when Mom was alone and pregnant and had nowhere to go, but you weren't. So today, I want you to be there for her, even if she's not here anymore."

A long, wordless moment passes, stretching on until the minute hand on the clock above the TV has moved two notches. There's no space in your life to fit in these unnecessary burdens, Kris' mind screams at him. Don't give in.

But he knows, even without consciously thinking it, that his mind is losing the fight. How can it win, when his heart is being weighed down by the hurt in Luhan's eyes?

Another long minute, before finally, Kris nods. "Okay. I'll go."