A/N: i'm not really following the storyline of the drama completely, cause that wouldn't be fun (: but it'll still go along with it. IF YOU GUYS HAVEN'T WATCHED IT, YOU SHOULD. YOU REALLY SHOULD. (to watch my love from the star) go here

also, someone should teach me the art of updating regularly i don't get it

Chapter 1: Hello Again, Seoul

“To be widowed at age 15… it’s so terribly sad, isn’t it?”

Lu Han slumps over in his seat, a scowl marring his fair features, as he listens to the gossiping of the female servants.

“Shh, he’ll hear you!”

He rolls his eyes. I’m grieving, not deaf, you old hag.

“But really. To think that the young lord would pass away on the night of their engagement party… And from a heart attack at that.”

“Terribly sad.” Lu Han stifles a laugh into his sleeve as his favourite guard joins in the conversation in a loud drawl. “Now please, ladies, we must make it to the village before the young master turns 20. You’re holding up the procession.”

Pleased, Lu Han leans back on his seat, wishing for windows in the palanquin. A long journey like this becomes incredibly boring, and the jostling pace makes it difficult to sleep. While the gossiping of the servant girls was annoying, at least it provided some form of entertainment.

When the palanquin suddenly jerks to a stop, however, Lu Han sits up straight in alarm.

“What’s going on? Are we under attack? Why have you stopped?”

The guards and servants outside are in a frenzy, and he tries to make out something coherent from the barrage of sounds.

“… is that?!”

“It’s coming…”

“This way!”

“What do we….”

“… young master, we must…”

Lu Han slams a fist on the palanquin wall, angry and terrified. “What’s going on? Let me out, right now!”

“M-My lord…” Guard Lee stammers. “There’s something… it’s coming from the sky. Nothing we’ve ever seen before, young master.”

“The sky…?” Lu Han breathes, and he’s drowned out, as the world around him erupts into chaos. It makes no sense, really, how one moment, he’s being woken up and pampered to look his best for his fiancé, and the next, he’s trapped in a palanquin hovering literally between life and death, balanced by nothing but sheer luck precariously on the edge of a cliff.

What happens next is even stranger, because in a blink, he finds the door being wrenched open, and a blank-faced stranger with unfathomable eyes has his hand outstretched.

And against his better judgement, Lu Han finds himself taking it.

--

“… Han! Lu Han! Lu Han, damn it, wake up!”

Gasping, Lu Han sits up on his bed, finding his fingers curled tight around his sheets and a pounding in his head that, for once, can’t be attributed to a hangover.

Manager Kim, or more affectionately dubbed as ‘baozi’ when Lu Han is in better spirits, stands with an armful of clothes and his wide-eyed bespectacled assistant-wardrobe-supervisor-slash-assistant-manager next to him with a clipboard clutched to his chest. (The AWSSAM, that long- title for short, had been introduced to Lu Han last week in the middle of his shooting, and the distracted starlet still doesn’t know his name. Kim Jun Dan? Kang Jong Di?)

“What time is it?” Lu Han asks through a wide yawn and groggy rubbing at his eyes. Even in this half-asleep, mussed, state, his skin glows and his eyes sparkle. Nothing less from Asia’s #1 flower boy.

My lord, what are you?

… Can you not speak?

Lu Han rubs at his temples.

“… Lu Han!” Manager Kim snaps in exasperation. “What’s the matter with you this morning, huh? Did you drink again last night? I thought I told you not to—you’re filming a CF at Apgujeong, and—”

“I had a dream, or something, I think. I just need some coffee and I’ll be fine,” Lu Han says dismissively, shooting the AWSSAM a pointed look. The latter gets the hint and dashes out of the room to fetch some. “Wait a second. Apgujeong? As in, South Korea Apgujeong?”

“Lu Han, we talked about this yesterday.”

Fatigue forgotten, the starlet snaps, “Yes, and you said that I’d be staying in Beijing for at least the rest of the week!”

“He called last minute, Lu Han,” Manager Kim says quietly. “There was nothing I could do. You know how it is. If you don’t take the job, someone else will.”

“Someone else, as in, Byun Baekhyun?”

The silence is answer enough. Manager Kim busies himself with arranging the clothes on the bed, his face carefully kept neutral. Lu Han fumes silently, weighing his options, before grudgingly deciding that Seoul isn’t bad this time of year.

Besides, he’s been craving some kimbap for a while.

--

“Lu Han-ssi! How does it feel being back in Seoul after 3 months?”

“Lu Han! Look over here, please! How can you look so good even after such a long airplane ride?”

“Are those limited-edition Chrome Hearts earrings? Lu Han-ssi! Lu Han-ssi!”

“How long will you be staying this time? Or have you moved here permanently?”

Lu Han sighs as he’s swept along through the mass of reaching fans and flashing cameras. Keeping a smile plastered to his lips, he waves half-heartedly. The fans seem particularly excited today, he notes, as he narrowly avoids getting hit in the face by a ‘Lu’ flashboard.

“Keep moving, please,” the security guards order, bustling around, trying to maintain some semblance of order. But the crowd keeps on surging, and Lu Han starts feeling the tendrils of claustrophobia deep in his stomach.

--

Oh Sehun strolls nonchalantly through the airport, draping his leather jacket over a shoulder, and adjusting his cap. The summer weather makes even his white wife-beater stifling and uncomfortable.

He winces as he hears shrill calls and screams in the distance, resembling the mating calls of various apes in a jungle, and wishes he has a pair of earmuffs or something. It’d be best if he gets out of here as quickly as possible. From the looks of it, some celebrity has arrived—no, from the amount of pure worship, it seems more like a god stepped foot on Earth.

Face twisting in a sneer, Sehun takes brisk steps to the luggage retrieval, but has to stop almost immediately, narrowly avoiding a group of girls (giggling and red-faced), who nearly run into him in their hurry in the opposite direction. They throw quick apologies over their shoulders.

Sehun glances down and realizes that one of them had dropped their light stick. It’s a ridiculous looking thing that has a cute deer head that glows bright yellow, with a Chinese character printed on the back.

“Lu,” he murmurs, recognizing the from the Chinese lessons he’d taken back in the 20s.

Screams snap him out of his reverie into the past, but it’s too late, as he suddenly finds himself being absorbed into a clawing mob of rabid humans. Thrown back and forth, he’s tempted to abuse his abilities once again to get himself out of this mess.

But no, that won’t do. Glancing around, Sehun sets his lips in determination. He still has to get his bags, and he’d like to do so in peace, so that leaves one effective option.

Eliminate the central problem at hand.

If he gets the bothersome celebrity out of the airport as quickly as possible, the fans would surely disperse elsewhere, leaving the airport—and most importantly, Sehun—in quiet. It’s a win-win situation.

Narrowing his eyes, he sets his sights on the eye of the hurricane, where the target would no doubt be located. Then, he slips through the crowd. He knows from experience that it’s absolutely useless fighting your way through a mob—the best way is to simply go with it, and let the momentum push you through.

It also helps that his height makes people pause and stare, giving him time to shove them out of the way.

--

A particularly hard push sends Lu Han to his knees, and the blonde winces, examining his palms.

He notices a security officer roughly shove the fan out of the way in retaliation. “Ah, don’t push her!” he gasps.

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about yourself?”

Lu Han glances up, expecting Manager Kim, or even the AWSSAM, but it’s neither. A boy, with light blonde hair and a wicked sharp jawline stares down at him, sunglasses perched on a perfectly straight nose. His thick arms are folded across a broad chest and no, Lu Han is not staring. Nor eating him up with his eyes.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, and Lu Han shuts it with a snap. Damn his lousy jaw control.

The boy lets out a loud breath of impatience before hauling Lu Han to his feet with a strong grip on his arm. Lu Han blinks as he tries to regain his balance, and tries not to think about how the hand wraps all the way around. He’s not that thin, is he?

A security officer belatedly notices the (supposed) fan boy manhandling Lu Han and makes his way over.

“It’s okay,” Lu Han says, shooting the officer a dirty look. “He’s only helping me.” Like you should have been.

Before Lu Han can thank his saviour, he feels the warmth of a jacket drape over his shoulders and the hood flipped over his head, and without further ado, he’s propelled through the crowd. Eyes cast down, Lu Han notices the light stick held tight in the boy’s grasp, looking a bit ridiculous in such a large hand.

A Deerling, Lu Han thinks fondly.

Then, like magic, they arrive at the awaiting van in record time, and Manager Kim is ushering him in. When Lu Han rips off his sunglasses and turns around, dislodging the hood, the boy is nowhere in sight.

It’s only on the drive to his new home that Lu Han realizes the leather jacket still draped around him. It’s large and warm, and smells of something familiar.

My lord, are you the grim reaper?

You saved me, so I will protect you.

Lu Han holds it closer around his shoulders and wonders why.

TBC