The next morning was a near perfect copy of the previous one; he was awakened by Mrs. Luo and told he had only fifteen minutes to get downstairs to eat, and he closed the door in her face instead of gracing her with a response. He made his way groggily to the shower and allowed the hot water to wake him up, but his actions were slow and so when he came downstairs it was already half past ten. 

Old Tzu gave him the evil eye when he even glanced at the sugar buns, so he took a butter roll and ate it quickly, wishing he’d gotten up in time to eat something more substantial. Mrs. Luo came in from the dining room as he finished the roll, and when she caught sight of him the butter off his fingers she grabbed a sugar bun from the tray and handed it to him. “You need to come down earlier, LuHan,” she said kindly, and though his fingers eagerly took the sweet dough he gave a small bow in response that shocked them both. She smiled, though, and placed her hands on his back to push him toward the kitchen door. “Go,” she said, “Vinson is already working.”

‘Yeah, I’m sure he is,’ LuHan thought, though he surprised himself by keeping the snarky comment silent and entered the dining room to come up behind Vinson as the other man sat in his chair at the counter. His broad shoulders were tense as he counted the money till, though, and as he placed the bills inside their slot he said, “Finally awake?”

LuHan gave a small smile though Vinson didn’t look up to see it, so he merely huffed and said, “I guess.”

“Good. Your tickets yesterday ; I wrote out an example for you there on your pad.” Vinson’s hand motioned toward the counter, and LuHan’s smile immediately changed into a petulant frown. 

“You could do it yourself if you don’t like how I write them,” he snapped, and Vinson’s head craned around to look him in the eyes. 

“Gladly,” he spat, and LuHan’s back bristled. He opened his mouth to retort but Vinson held up a hand, letting out a heavy sigh as he did so. “Whatever, I am not going to argue with you. Just… look over the stupid example already.” He backed his chair up, nearly running over LuHan’s foot in the process, and spun it to leave the room.

LuHan rolled his eyes at the childish act and grabbed the ticket pad from the counter-top. The first ticket as written out precise and neat, but instead of looking it over as requested, LuHan pulled it off and ripped it into tiny shreds before leaving the pile on the counter as a ‘present’ for Vinson. He may have to serve here but he didn’t have to do it their way, and he was intent on making them see that.

The first customers were easy enough, though he ended up losing his temper at one of them and having to have the situation salvaged by Vinson, who wheeled up with a smile for the customers and a glare for LuHan. The wheelchair bound man was gracious and at ease with the customers as he took their order, and LuHan stared at him for a moment before flouncing off with a huff, irritated at the other man for taking his customers from him.

‘They aren’t your customers,’ the little nagging voice told him, but he shook it off and entered the kitchen in search of Mrs. Luo. 

He found her brushing eggrolls with a white wash, and when he came up beside her she graced him with a smile before turning back to her work. “What do you need?” She asked kindly, and his words stuttered in his throat. 

He took a deep breath and blurted them out, though. “Just let me pay you for your loss; I’m of no use to you working here.”

Her hands stilled and she stood looking at the eggrolls for so long that LuHan wondered if he ought to reach out and shake her, but then she took a shaky breath and resumed the painting of the rolls. “Money can’t buy Jimmy’s life, LuHan. Please go back out and do your job.”

LuHan threw his hands in the air in frustration, the ticket book flying out of his hand to land beside the fryer. “Me working here doesn’t bring him back!” He cried out, wanting for all the world to just be home and have his iPod and his car back and be able to sleep in his big soft bed and never have to wait another table again. “At least with the money you can pay someone else to do this job a hell of a lot better than I can!”

She turned to LuHan abruptly, her lips tight and her eyes unreadable. “LuHan. You working here is not for my benefit, but for yours. We are doing this for you to help you see what we’ve lost and what you’ve done; I know that you understand that, so don’t play this ‘dumb’ act. Take responsibility for what you’ve done.”

“Working here doesn’t do any of that,” he retorted, though a little voice inside of him begged to differ. “Working here only makes me wish all of you had been in that car.”

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth; they had been words aimed to hurt and for some reason that he couldn’t pinpoint, he didn’t actually want to hurt this woman. But he had succeeded; unbidden tears sprung to her eyes and she told him in a small voice, “I wish it had been me as well, instead of my boys. But wishes aren’t fishes, LuHan, so get back out there and do your job.” And with that she left the room, going down the stairs and leaving him with the dark eyes of old Tzu on him and watching his every movement.

He worked the rest of the day in silence, speaking only when necessary to the customers. They didn't take his sullen attitude very well and most didn't bother tipping him, though one young couple was so lost in one another's eyes that they probably didn't even realize his crappy service ended up tipping him a small amount. He ate his lunch of simple fried rice and his dinner of rice soup in silence as well, barely tasting the meals and lost deep in his thoughts as he wondered why they thought this was going to do any good, why they thought he should change, and most of wondered why he felt so lost.

Why he felt regret when he looked at Vinson in his chair or Mrs. Luo’s sad eyes.

He went to bed that night with conflicted thoughts, anger in his heart and his mind full of wishing… but what he was wishing for, he wasn’t sure.

LuHan spent the night restless and frustrated, his mind replaying the conversation with Mrs. Luo over and over again no matter how he tried to shut it out. ‘I wish it had been me as well,’ she had said, and he could tell she had meant every word. What he couldn’t understand was why someone would wish for their own death in place of another’s, and in the darkness of the night he wondered if his own parents would wish the same if it were his life that were taken that night. 

He remembered the happy days of his childhood when he would never have questioned their love for him; they had spent summers on vacation to wondrous places, his parents buying him anything and everything he asked for, and he had needed no more than their attention and love. He couldn’t resist the smile that came to his face as he thought of those times, the joy and warmth of those precious moments with his parents.

In his teen years he had drawn away from his parents; what kid wants to be seen hang