The days after the dinner with Luhan and Luhan's friend had been odd ones for Sehun, who was met with a strange push and pull from his current charge. Zitao would be happy with him in one moment and sour in the next. It was frustrating and led to a lot of moments where Sehun simply scratched his arm and tried to figure it out like a math problem. If one plus one equalled two and one plus two equalled three, he might be able to figure out what he did or said that made Zitao's face drop to the floor if he worked backwards. Take two from three and he should find one. But the others emotions were much more difficult to decipher than Sehun had been expecting.

"Sehun-ah, hows the exchange student going?" A friendly voice made Sehun look up from the list he was writing in his notebook.

"Donghae-hyung?" Sehun was surprised to see the older male peering down at him.

Sehun seemed to have a skill of making friends with boys older than him; a hundred hyungs but no dongsaengs. Donghae had lived across the hall from Sehun for years, and the two were like peas in a pod. The older boy having babysat Sehun more than once. But the dark haired male had moved away last year, following a career in medicine took him to a university hospital that was too far to drive to every day. Moving was nessesary and Sehun had unwillingly accepted this fact.

"Should I be offended that you aren't happy to see me?" Donghae teased a little, but the smile on his face remained warm and Sehun shook his head violently.

"No, it's just you've aged so much. I barely recognized you," a serious tone and yet an amused smile came from Sehun as he moved to his feet, pushing his books aside on the grass. "But what are you doing here?"

A pause came from Donghae as he glanced over at the university buildings. "I needed to pick up some documents from a teacher here. And being the maknae in my department." Donghae shrugged with a laugh before he checked his watch. "But I'd better hurry..."

"Let me come with you, we can catch up," Sehun couldn't hide his excitement at seeing Donghae again. "You owe me stories."

Sehun didn't exactly wait for approval, collecting up his things and stuffing the books haphazardly into his backpack. Classes had started a day ago and he could already feel he was behind in months of studying. At least Zitao's classes were almost opposite in timing to Sehun's, which gave the boy hours of time he probably would have wasted, to loiter around campus and concentrate. Although, it'd been an hour and all he'd done is write a list of assumed triggers of Zitao's mood changes.

"Are you still picking on Lu Han-ah?" Donghae's question came barely two seconds into the conversation and Sehun felt defensive.

"It's not picking on. It's just messing with. Playing with," Sehun protested a little which caused the other to laugh and sling his arm around Sehun's shoulders. "Lu Han-hyung does it back. He kicked me just last week."

"Alright, alright, got it." Donghae made an 'OK' sign with his fingers.

- - -

It was when Sehun was standing outside the office that he checked the time on his phone. 

"Ah, Zitao's class finished," the boy let out a frustrated noise. He hadn't gotten one story from Donghae yet but if he left Zitao on his own, he could barely imagine the siuations the other would find himself in.

"Gomawo Saem. I'll pass that on to Jeong su-ssi," Donghae's voice was subtly different when he spoke to someone older and Sehun looked up to see the other coming out of the office.

"Donghae-ah, you should come visit your teachers more often. Or we'll start to think you forgot us," the teacher returned in a happy manner until he caught sight of Sehun. "But there are exceptions to this."

This made Sehun sheepishly scratch his arm. He'd only snuck in to Donghae's classroom a couple times for fun, but clearly he'd left a mark. A short bow was given though, as the teacher turned his attention back to Donghae and offered the other some supporting words before they parted. As the two boys watched the teacher walk down the hall, Sehun let out an abrupt cough and then rocked a little. He still needed to find Zitao before the other ended up accidently joining a gang or got robbed by some thugs.

"I have to go. Zitao's classes finished ten minutes ago and he'll get lost," Sehun offered an explanation to Donghae who seemed to laugh a little at the younger boys anxiety.

"Finally found a dongsaeng, ah?" Donghae once more teased Sehun and the blonde boy flashed a disgruntled looked.

"He's a 93'er. But his Korean is horrible and his personality is worse," the younger boy shot back, which recieved the same response Donghae always gave when he didn't believe a word.

"Alright, alright, got it," and his fingers curled into an 'OK'. "You better go then. I'll be visiting my parents next weekend. We'll catch up then."

"Alright, alright, got it," Sehun mocked back, even curling his fingers into and 'OK' before he turned to dash off. 

- - -

The wooden stick was abrasive in Zitao's hands as he braced his feet on the blue mat. Wushu. A sport Tao had been learning since he was six years old and one of the few things he enjoyed showing other people he could do. Not that he was attempting to gain praise. It simply made him feel stronger, more masculine, more confident. The deep and steady pants of breath brushed his lips, twisted his wrists, bringing the blunt instrument around his side until it hit the length of his arm and pressed to his shoulder. A pause as he slowly eased away the tension in his muscles, flicking his wrist in sharp to smooth movements and bringing the practice staff to his main hand; then to a stop. 

Zitao rolled his shoulders a little. He felt stiff from not having practiced since he'd come to Korea and he could feel his heard drumming in his chest. He bit his lip as he lowered his head, steadying his breathing and running over the steps in his mind again. The speed of the motions started off slow, but still faster than when he'd first started after class. That might have been when the end of the staff contacted with something unexpected, it popped from his grip and sweaty hands. There was shallow rattled thuds as it rolled away from his feet and loud gasping in pain, that came over Zitao's shoulder.

Panic let bursts of Chinese to come from Tao's lips as he brought his hands up to his head, hiding the flustered and red cheeks that made his face.

After a few seconds, Zitao lowered his arms an inch as he turned around slowly to see the head of familiar blonde hair. Sehun?

"I'm sorry. What are you doing here? Why'd you come up behind me? Are you okay?" Zitao's urgent voice still came a little slower than a normal persons would and Sehun didn't look up. "Where does it hurt? Show me. I'm sorry."

"Korean, Tao. Korean," Sehun's face was contorted in pain, and his teeth clenched as he spoke.

"Joesonghamnida," Zitao had perfected his apology in the time he'd been in Korea. "Joesonghamnida."

Sehun's hand clasped tightly onto Zitao's shoulder while he wrapped another around his own ribs, holding his side and what looked like trying not to breathe at all. How hard had he been hit? It was hard to remember how fast he'd been moving the practice staff or how much the connection of wood to body had vibrated through. But by the look of Sehun, Zitao felt like he'd killed the other.

"We should go the hospital," Tao spoke in Chinese again, but quickly faltered and tried to remember what he'd learned. "Emergency room. Emergency room." The Korean words sounded more urgent when he repeated himself.

The arguments that soon followed came with Sehun hanging off Zitao who kept switching from Chinese to Korean, and then flinching when he saw Sehun's face show any sign of pain creased in it's features. Even when they got into the back of the taxi, Sehun's and Tao's backpacks at their feet, Tao continued insisting on the emergency room. Which caused a laugh and then gasp of pain to come from Sehun who spoke the dazed driver in a calmer manner. Zitao eyes fell on the Korean boy who was oddly in equal amusement to his was in pain as he slumped into the seat.

"Is your head okay?" Zitao questioned before he got a little frustrated. Was Sehun faking it? Just when Tao was beginning to trust the other.

His fingers found the hem of Sehun's shirt and pulled up roughly, revealing the sunlight deprived skin and the bruising that was blooming in concerning colours. The sudden attack on his body brought a sharp and short exhale from the younger boy who shot Zitao a confused look; now annoyed himself. A look that made Tao chew his lip as his eyes absorbed the curve of Sehun's hip above the fabric of his jeans and the movement of muscles along the others stomach as he breathed in and out. 

Sehun spoke in a harsh tone of Korean as he tugged the fabric from Zitao's curled fingers and the soft looking skin was quickly covered.

The coloured shirt was straightened out, as Sehun returned his hand to sore side, arm cradled across his chest and tucked under his other arm. He spoke past Zitao to the driver, and the Chinese student slowly sunk back into his seat. The bruising looked bad and would probably only get worse as time passed. Tao wrung his hands a little as he tried to look past the passenger seat to the road ahead. Would they get to the hospital soon? Sehun needed scans and a doctor to make sure that nothing was broken or bleeding. 

When the taxi came to a stop, Zitao moved in haste and only after he helped Sehun step away from the taxi did he look up to see that they weren't at a hospital. If it was a hospital, it was a very small one and had no one that looked like a doctor in it. 

"Pharmacy," Sehun's one word answer came before the other started to move forward.

"Emergency room," Zitao insisted, but he still stumbled forward, Sehun's arm over his shoulder and his fear that the other would fall kept him from resisting. "Not pharmacy. Emergency room."

Sehun shook his head, pushing open the door that rung above their heads and they made their way through the aisle to the counter. A man in sunglasses and dressed nicely stood in front of them, and Tao thought it would give him time to convince Sehun to go to a hospital to get himself looked at properly. It was just hard to sound convincing when his Korean was jutted and in pieces, and when he couldn't find a word, he switched to Chinese. Sehun only seemed to refuse and speak in hushed Korean whispers which made it even more difficult to argue -- especially when it required time for Tao to absorb and put together the Korean into something he could understand. Assuming words he didn't quite know.

"Emergency room," the word came from his lips for last of numerous times but Sehun only moved forward to fill in the space that the man in sunglasses had left.

A look was shot at Zitao before Sehun said something that sounded like his final words. "I just need something for the pain, I don't need to go to the emergency room. It was only a hit. I'm not in that much pain." A small lie was tacked on the end, even though Sehun knew the other probably wouldn't understand what he said for a few moments.

"Is everything okay?" The pharmacist questioned and Sehun faltered for a moment.

"I was hit with a stick. I'm bruised and in pain," Sehun listed it off simply and showing some of his annoyance to the pharmacist who seemed to not be affected at all.

"How much bruising is there? Where is the bruising? And how much pain?" The questions came from the older mans lips and Sehun glanced at Tao apprenhensively.

All his weight was leaned into Zitao who stumbled a little before he braced himself and straightened Sehun's out. Once Sehun felt stable on his feet, there was and chewing of Sehun's lips before the blonde boy slowly lifted up his shirt revealing more skin than he was used to for the second time today. At least this time was on his terms and he cringed in pain with the movement. The pharmacist seemed to study the bruising for a moment, and Sehun's eyes flickered to Tao who was both, holding him up and looking at the roof. Was the Chinese boys faced flushed more than before?

"It just looks like some bruising. I can give you some creams and bandages. But mostly you'll need to rest and time to heal," The pharmacist gave his diagnosis and Sehun once more tugged his shirt down. He didn't like showing his body. Sehun's eyes focused on the pharmacist who nodded his head a little. "But you should get it checked out by a doctor if the pain increases, or you have trouble breathing. Or if blood starts to form under the skin," The pharmacist continued.

"I will," Sehun responded, once more his hand moving to the pain that radiated from his side. It was a pointed aching that often turned into excruciating stabs of pain when he moved or breathed in too deeply.

- - - 

The ride home a taxi was an odd experience for Sehun who was still attempting to protect his side from anymore blunt weapons and his body from anymore eyes. He'd had enough experience with both for the day, and he looked towards Zitao who was seated beside him; both their backpacks in his lap and a hand firmly clutching onto the bag of medicine and bandages they'd bought. Tao had forced his money into the pharmacists hand when they left, and gotten an odd look from the man when he bowed in thanks. Sehun who was embarrassed was glad to see his building when they arrived. It took a firm word to Zitao to stop the other from trying to carry all the bags and help Sehun at once. The other was overly apologetic for what had happened; it was burdensome to Sehun.

No one was home when Sehun punched in the code and the door to his home opened. Both his parents worked, and his older brother had moved away for work. The two students stepped into the house, shoes being slipped off and bags soon placed on the kitchen counter. When he saw the time, Sehun uneasily remembered that Zitao had a class that just started and Sehun had one in the block after that. But the thought of returning to school in pain did not sound appealing.

"You're missing a class," Sehun told Tao, who was already digging into the bag from the pharmacy. "You should go to your class."

Tao seemed to understand, shaking his head and laying out the contents of what Sehun suddenly felt looked like half the pharmacy stock. There was a lot there for some bruising. He childishly kicked the back of the other boys leg, and regretted it when the pain in his side left him tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. 

"Just go to class. I'll get you in trouble and that will get me in trouble," Sehun spoke with a couple jagged breaths coming from his lips, and his effort to talk was returned with no response. Sometimes it felt like the other chose what he understood and didn't understand. 

There was a moment as Tao patted the kitchen bench with his hand and Sehun stepped a little back when Zitao's hands were placed on his hips. What was the other doing? Sehun's realized the confusion must have been written on his face when the other said two words in Korean. 'Jump. Sit'. And rested his hand on the space on the bench he'd motioned to before.

The quick movements, the twisting of his body and the abrupt landing on the countertop -- even with Zitao helping lift and guide him, it caused pain to hit every nerve in Sehun's body. 

"Aish," a frustrated noise followed by a couple unintentional words that he hoped Zitao never caught on to.

Sehun hugged his ribs tightly, and leaned awkwardly trying to ease the pain with shallow breathing. The pain didn't seem to process to Zitao who soon was trying to pull Sehun's own arms away from his body. A glare was the only thing that Sehun could produce and that only seemed to be ignored by the Chinese student. Zitao's hands were wrapped around the Sehun's wrists as he tugged a little, trying to get the boy to move them from his body.

"Tao!" Sehun snapped the boys name, but he couldn't help but feel like it sounded more pleading than threatening. 

"Cream. Bandage. I'll put here," the Chinese boys' explanation came with hand hovering the place Sehun was trying to protect most. "I'll help."

"No, no, no, I'll do it myself," Sehun shook his head. He'd shown two people his body in the past couple hours. Zitao twice. That was enough stripping for the day. "I don't need help."

Sehun's phone ringing distracted Zitao, and the blonde boy couldn't help but feel thankful to the caller. As the song he used for the ringtone began to play more loudly, Sehun watched Zitao pivot and begin the search of his bag. Why was his privacy being treated like a welcome mat today?

"It's just Lu Han-hyung. Let it ring," Sehun's words made Zitao look back at him and Sehun repeated himself. "Ignore it."

The other understood the words as he soon zipped Sehun's backpack back up and returned his focus on the medicinal items that were spread over the kitchen table. Sehun suddenly wished Zitao hadn't understood those words. There was only so much that he could fight back and the movements only made the pain worse. Why was Tao so stubborn?