it might have started with the roar of an engine, the conversations that brimmed with life accompanied by the hustle and bustle of the morning rush—or maybe it had started with a minute of his favorite song—when the breeze picks up, running through sehun's well-kept hair.

he stands motionless atop the platform, head bent over a pocketbook as music bleeds through his earphones in upbeat tunes. the blow of the wind makes him pause from reading, the graceful wisps of air dancing along his skin in a quiet melody, as if lifting him off the ground. it feels soothing, calming, despite the ruckus of the early crowd.

sehun quite liked mornings, the rising sun nonchalantly at the tips his shoulders. but there is something particularly different about today, because it's the first time sehun ever sees him, and he thinks the sun rose in those eyes.

the man had the curves of youth across his childlike features, lips curled down in disappointment and worry over the stacks of papers he’d dropped. a gush of wind blew most of the files towards sehun's direction, and the man gives chase as he struggles to collect every wandering sheet. sehun picks up the last one by his foot, and he meets the stranger's gaze and ragged breathing when he ascends from the ground.

sehun never quite believed in love at first sight, but with the way the smaller man smiles up at him timidly and much like sunshine in the first of spring, he figures he does now.

the man opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by the alarm indicating the descent of the current train. hurriedly, he gives sehun a small nod, and places the paper inside his folder before stepping into the cart, almost hoping sehun would follow suit. but sehun remains glued to the platform, shell-shocked and very much mesmerized even as the doors close to the man’s cheerful grin, and it is only a few breaths after that sehun realizes he’d missed his train.

—

sehun has always been fond of numbers, digits going haywire in the recesses of his mind. as a renowned financier to south korea’s top business firms, sehun is used to analyzing mergers or equity ventures, decisions as quick as his fingers could sign a contract to a close. at a young age, he already manages the finance department of a growing investment firm.

today, he acquires thirty percent ownership of a dying retail company, already plotting its breakthrough in the fashion industry with the stacks of papers on his desk, sheets upon sheets of agreements and other miscellaneous paperwork that need his attention much more than anything else.

but the urgency somehow doesn’t move him.

outside, the sun shines with vigor, casting shadows and warmth into his office. there are cars on the streets below, people of various backgrounds crossing roads with hastened steps. sehun observes the monotony of such actions, wondering if the routine would strike him unexpectedly. his thoughts dwell on the man from earlier, smile pleasant and quite unforgettable. but just as the he wonders what he could be doing, what his name is, a familiar head of chestnut hair from the building across his office catches his attention.

there it is, that familiar brilliant smile (it reminds sehun of blue hummingbirds and cold beer and ice cream on hot summer days).

the stranger—a little fidgety, a little unsure—takes a seat across a stern-looking man with a piercing gaze and glasses perched heavily atop his pointed nose.

sehun doesn’t know what comes over him as he stands by his window, waving frantically in hopes of getting the stranger’s attention. the northern wind blows through his window, almost catching him off-guard, yet he still waves eagerly, but to no avail. he eyes the stacks of papers on his desk, and without hesitation, he grabs a page of a merger and starts folding it with much enthusiasm and hopefulness. he braces the morning sun with a plane in his hand, and holding his breath, he throws it across the building and watches it go.

the first plane hits the glass below his target.

the second one falls halfway through its trip.

the third one lands below the stranger’s seat, unnoticed and useless.

by the twenty-second paper plane, sehun is defeated and angry, pouting through his morning coffee as he glares at the existing merger discarded into origami on the streets below. but he doesn’t stop looking at the man, watching his lips curve into syllables and phrases of professional dialogue. his secretary distracts him from his trance, dropping new piles of paperwork on his desk with a loud thud, and he almost scowls at her accidental impropriety.

when she leaves and he brings his attention back to the stranger, he is met with a now empty room. panicking, he stands up abruptly, bolting for the door and ignoring his secretary’s calls of his name as he taps the elevator button of the ground floor repeatedly, come on, come on, come on.

the entrance doors burst open at his eagerness, legs shaking and knees buckling at the adrenaline and determination to know this particular stranger that swept him off his feet.

the crowd doesn’t thin even as the morning rush is long over, offices booming with noise and crunching numbers. sehun crosses the road in haste, cars honking violently with each rushed step to the other side of the road. sehun has to see him, meet him under any circumstances, paper planes rustling beneath the soles of his shoes.

it’s not in his nature to give up, after all.

he runs and runs and runs until he thinks he’s finally catching up, until he thinks he could feel the stranger drawing closer with every scuffle. he takes two steps at a time climbing the stairs to the railway platform where they had first met, a thin layer of sweat staining his forehead and well-pressed dress shirt.

but his stomach drops at having lost the stranger in a mass of people.

he stands on his toes hoping to catch a glimpse of the mess of brown hair among a sea of many other strangers, but he doesn’t find him, not even when he fights his way through the crowd, earning a few cusses and unfriendly elbows. frustrated and a little heartbroken, he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns towards the direction from whence he came.

a gentle blow of the midday breeze grazes on his cheeks, making him shiver involuntarily into his suit, a little out of breath and out-of-place. he sighs exasperatedly at the missed opportunity, the very possibility of being with the one.

when the wind picks up again, a little stronger this time, it throws him off balance and it feels very much like a rebuke when he collides into another person. papers afloat momentarily obscure sehun’s vision, body aching slightly at the impact of the blow. but just when he is about to mutter an apology, his breath catches in his throat.

it’s him.

and he is so, so beautiful up close even with his face scrunched up in pain, eyes opening brightly to sehun's soft, knowing sigh. the stranger seems surprised, recognition coloring his cheeks rosy, and he smiles just as radiantly, sunlight accentuating the soft curves of his eyes. byun baekhyun, his i.d. reads, and sehun is at a loss for words as he steps closer and closer.

hi, sehun whispers with the wisps of the wind; hello, baekhyun responds just as softly, as if they were the only ones in that busy platform, and maybe they were because right now, baekhyun is looking at someone—at this very person who would chase him to the ends of the earth.

there is a paper plane stuck in the lapel of sehun’s suit, and baekhyun takes it between curious fingers—i love paper planes. the recognition makes sehun flush with embarrassment, but baekhyun seems not to notice at all. this is quite lovely. and sehun just knew that whatever this is, whatever this could be, it's definitely a start of something wonderful. so do i.

(you had me at hello.)