counting stars

lu han is so, so serious, about everything. there’s absolutely nothing, it seems, that can cause him to loosen up in the slightest, a fact which soohyuk only finds that much funnier about him. it’s all he can do not to laugh loudly; he settles instead for a muffled giggle that’s only half malicious.

“aish, so loud! don’t you think more people would be staring at your outburst than at a mere plate on my head, lu han-ssi?” his words are laced with laughter, his grin seeping entirely into his tone. soohyuk still bothers to remove his plate from his head, though, and holds it in one hand rather carelessly. he notices everything; the nervous tic which drives lu han to clean his glasses, the eyes of the other patrons wandering to them. soohyuk just doesn’t care.

but he has to set his plate down to stare intently when lu han suddenly grows solemn. it’s unnecessary, but there’s meaning to it: this is why soohyuk’s expression grows serious as well for a moment, out of interest rather than actual concern for what’s being said. after all, his every word prior to this has been the same kind of half-baked nonsense he usually spouts. and yet, people do often reveal interesting things in response to it, somehow.

soohyuk blinks for a moment, expression empty, before he snickers and covers his mouth to (poorly) restrain a grin. it’s all he can do not to burst out into cackling at just how unduly grave lu han is being about a comment made with respect to a pervert conspiracy – even if what he’s saying is more true than not.

“yes, you can be quite certain that i will keep her safe from any pervert-driven conspiracies lurking about the foundation!” he jests, barely uncovering the toothy grin on his lips. “that includes keeping her safe from you, lu han-ssi, until you’ve proven that you aren’t part of it!” this is so stupid that even soohyuk can’t say it with a straight face. that must merit some sort of award.

after a moment of laughter, soohyuk leans back in his seat, slouching as he relaxes. there’s still a smirk set on his lips, but his eyes are narrowed – almost serious. “you’ve nothing to fear there, however,” he states, tone flippant with confidence more than base foolishness. “that is precisely why i’m here – and i don’t intend to let any harm befall you, either.” this is a slip of uncharacteristic honesty; soohyuk is prone to those with lu han. he won’t let the past repeat itself; he won’t see anyone important to him harmed either by his actions or his inaction.

Truthfully, Lu Han is an up-tight individual.

There is little to nothing that can cause him to loosen up, unless one takes to considering the small moments of outburst as a break from the paradigm. Even so, he is quick to slip back into his usual demeanor. Soohyuk’s remarks remain, by far, the easiest things that manage to gauge a reaction out of Lu Han and they are usually quite humorous.

This time around, there’s nothing rambunctious about the way that he responds, rather his spectacles are pushed up onto his head as a silly face is made at the elder. The patrons are sure to judge, as would anybody else that would set their eyes onto the rather odd pair - still, neither cared. Or, at least they were both too caught up in the moment to care.

Past laughter and moments of foolishness, it all draws to an end. The atmosphere shifts, growing solemn and along with it, the two men do the very same. The spectacles are gingerly picked up and placed on with care, though not before a quick look is cast over the lenses - they are fine, they were only cleaned a few moments ago, after all. It’s at Soohyuk’s words that a quiet breath leaves Lu Han’s lips, his eyes widening with surprise. It didn’t matter how many times the two of them would have such a turn in their conversations, hearing such words will always hold an element of surprise.

“Soohyuk…” it is clear that Lu Han was taken by surprise not only due to his astound expression, but also in the way that he forgets his honorifics. Another quiet breath is exhaled and with it, his gaze wanders off to the side, partly to gain a bit of time to set his thoughts into order but also to try and hide the slight coloration that formed over his cheeks. Where there was guilt, other feelings now emerge - security, content. Soohyuk manages to provide safety not only with his presence or with actions, but with simple words as well. It’s the very skilled, silver tongue that utters witty remarks, that soothes Lu Han at present.

Times when he is reduced to silence, left without a word to say are rare, especially for a person that usually has a lot to say. Yet there is something comforting in the moments of silence that follow and just as desired, Lu Han manages to gather himself and put his thoughts into order. “Thank you,” there is never enough gratitude to display to those that you care for and there will never be enough words to sum up one’s feelings - ‘thank you’ is fine, it is always sufficient for them.

With the newfound clarity in his train of thought and his attention now back towards the elder, a realization occurs in relation to the topic which they were discussing earlier. There has always been a question, or perhaps even a chain of questions that Lu Han intended to ask Soohyuk, though the opportune moment never arose until now - and if not now, then when else would this question even fit to be asked?

Through half-lidded, exhausted eyes Yeri could still easily spot the reddening of his cheeks. Well, isn’t that adorable. While her impulse was to raise her free hand and cup that centered heat that was his blush, that would be waaaay too creepy, even for her. Especially since she couldn’t explain to him that no, it’s not what you think, you’re just so warm. So instead she remained fairly steady, awaiting what she hoped would be a yes, but sensed (with slight dread) would be a no. Not that she’d take no for an answer, though. Even as the ragdoll she currently was the young girl could be intimidating as few, but she had never tried to legitimately scare someone after she became the monster she currently was. Would a flash of her currently covered fangs do? Or would she actually have to bite him? She had never bit someone in human form before… how would that feel? For them? For her? 

Luckily her train of thought was disrupted by strong arms sliding underneath her somewhat limp body, lifting her up with seemingly no trouble. For a split second she parted her mouth underneath the mask, feeling the fangs jerk forward and prepare for attack. But the reaction was easily subdued when she understood that she was receiving help rather than a threat on her life, which his words stressed enough for her to effectively snap out of her reptile ways. One hand was still kept hooked at the back of his neck, though her fingers soon spread out a little when the skin beneath them had cooled – searching for that which was still warm. The other arm was just folded over her stomach and rested there. She felt as safe in his arms as she could given the circumstance, and while there was little warmth to be shared between two proper layers of winter clothing, it still helped for her to bundle up against something that at least wouldn’t make her colder. 

“Take me”, maybe she was forgetting something important, “please take me to…” Yeri closed her eyes when everything started to spin, and for a second she thought the stranger had gone tumbling down. But she quickly realized that it was just the usual dizziness, and once she recovered from that she proceeded to give him her address. As soon as everything was set in motion the panic she had managed to build up waiting for someone to notice her slowly settled itself somewhat. At least enough for her to notice the other’s smell, and the shape of his jawbone from her advantageous position. And how he kept close to the shadow of the wall, as if they were doing something illegal or highly frowned upon. If she wasn’t so weak, she’d laugh. Yet she doubted he shared her amusement at this moment in time. Come to think of it, she didn’t like that she had to refer to her knight in the warm scarf as ‘him’. At some point she would either have to properly thank him for a job well done, or turn him in to the authorities if he tried something funny. So she glanced up to study the side of his face. “What’s your name?” 

Although his pace is slow and steady, Lu Han’s breath still heaves.

He wouldn’t deem the task he’s set himself up for as being menial, but it’s not quite easy either. Keeping himself balanced, maintaining a good posture while also carrying the girl - introductions should be made soon, he reckons - wasn’t a task that came as easy as one would think. In movies and books, these scenes are always depicted in a heroic or even romantic way, but reality is far from either of the two cases.; there’s nothing romantic about an impending backache. Lu Han isn’t one to voice out complaint with ease, especially not when it comes to tasks which he gave agreement upon most willingly - thus, he trudges onward.

If his cheeks bore color in them before, they went completely ablaze when the simply request of ‘take me’ left the girl’s lips; there was something going amiss, but the piece of information which he desired came much later than he would’ve hoped for. He stills into place for a moment, both to get a grip of himself but also to try and figure out where he was supposed to take the other. From his knowledge, the building was a couple of blocks away - not too close, but not too far either. The fingers that spider up over his skin case his breathing to hitch out of surprise and his attention immediately snaps towards her, causing his glasses to slide down a bit. Eyes are open wide and in the light that shines onto the pair from one of the nearby lamp posts, the color that has spread over his cheeks stands out clear in contrast to his skintone. 

A question hangs at the tip of his tongue, though it is left to die as another one surfaces - it isn’t his own, but it suffices to distract his attention from his own mind and potential state of embarrassment. “Hm?” were it not for his glasses to risk sliding down further or even falling off, then he would’ve tipped his head to the side as the sound was breathed out. “No, pardon me - I got what you asked,” the smallest of smiles overtakes his lips as an apologetic nod if offered, after which he resumes walking onward. 

There’s still an air about this whole thing that’s very awkward. Shik’s expression is still blanked out- head somewhere else for either his own sake or maybe someone else’s. Lu Han isn’t asking things yet. There’s just quiet. Complete, absolute silence. Wonshik normally would make an effort to fill the moment of awkward silence with something- a laugh or joke, but now he can’t think of one. The silence sends his head deeper into his thoughts and he can feel himself submerging in memories- flashes. Clawed hands stretch- open and close again and again. He needs to concentrate on that feeling- just that, but his mind isn’t exactly allowing it. No… Nothing is ever that simple.

When words are finally spoken he looks over far to quickly- head snapping to the side with eyes somewhat wide. He’d been so lost that for the moment he forgot that the person sitting directly next to him was likely extremely uncomfortable. He blinks a few times- willing the rest of his thoughts away, before finally concentrating on what’s being said. However, what he hears doesn’t even begin to help his mind stay on a different track. If anything, it sends it back a few steps. He blinks rapidly- nervously. His glance slides to the ground. He probably looks dejected, but he’s far more concerned with how his companion is panicking.

Keep reading

Had it really been alright to ask that question? 

Lu Han finds himself wondering that again and again as information is gradually being revealed to him. He is observant enough to notice the more subtle changes that happen, the way Wonshik’s expression grows blank even as he looks in his direction. His focus is elsewhere, trapped inside the pieces of memories which he is unintentionally forced to relive through speaking about them. For this, he silently takes the blame.

It isn’t only Wonshik’s current state that he worries about, but the entire picture as a whole - the more that is disclosed to him, the stronger the feeling seems to get. There is an invisible weight on his shoulders and a sharp pain that strikes through his chest. It was well known that humans grew desensitized to the various horrors which were unleashed onto their kin - everything was kept quiet, swept under a rug - but there was still a subconscious awareness over things that happen to a the more unfortunate ones - victims, whether young or old, trapped against their will in situations that seem unfathomable. 

They are akin to horror stories ripped out of the pages of a book, just that they are the very opposite: they are real.

Wonshik himself is one of the lucky few, one would think. He managed to endure through everything that was forced onto him by some sort of miracle and, today, he lived to tell a story of those very events - at what price, though? Humanity is a concept that is easily corrupted, gotten rid of at the hands of the wrong people. Yet even in the state that Wonshik has been brought in, Lu Han manages to see that he is a kind, gentle soul - the male’s outer appearance is the very opposite, but that doesn’t change a person’s essence. The claws and spikes, neither take away from the values which the other kept even when darkness was dawning up on him.

Against all odds, Lu Han manages to keep himself in control and doesn’t allow his habitual gestures to resurface for a second time. One could say that it is a wonder he didn’t yet manage to break his spectacles due to the harshness in which he would clean them when a nerve was struck or when he tried to calm himself down. A long, deep breath is exhaled as the elder allows his back to rest against the backrest of the bench - his thoughts are muddled, so he is still trying to grasp around for some sense of semblance in order to properly relay the way that he feels. Upsetting Wonshik any further is out of the question, so he takes extra caution before beginning to speak.

Wonwoo is wrestling with his conscience. But just a little.

You see there was this girl at the bus stop who asked him to watch her bag while she ran inside a nearby convenience store before the bus arrived. It wasn’t his fault that the girl had decided a strawberry milk was worth the risk of leaving her bag with a total stranger. She could have just taken it with her like any other sane person would have, after all.

So it was really just karmic that she’d eventually surface from the store to find both her bag and the nice boy who had agreed to watch it gone. It was a life lesson, Wonwoo told himself firmly. The girl looked about the same age as he was. She should have known better, right?

At least that’s what Wonwoo tells himself as he walks around aimlessly downtown, his new backpack hanging comfortably from his shoulders.

The backpack itself is a complete eyesore. It has more keychains and ornaments hanging from it that any christmas tree Wonwoo has ever seen, and the powder blue color doesn’t help its case one bit. But it’s what is inside the bag that really counts.

The backpack weighed a ton when he first got its hands on it, but that was mostly been thanks to the biology and algebra textbooks that Wonwoo made quick work of ditching as soon as he was a safe distance from the bus stop. Other than the books, he’d found a few granola bars, a box of pocky, and an mp3 player inside. He isn’t sure what kind of mp3 player, but Wonwoo recognizes the little device as one all the same. There’s even a pair of headphones neatly coiled around it.

The earbuds are a little uncomfortable, but Wonwoo probably has them in wrong somehow. He wouldn’t be surprised if he did. The last pair of headphones he owned were made of the cheap plastic and foam kind that covered your ears. These weren’t a thing like those–but the sound quality is better than Wonwoo remembered his old headphones being.

Of course he can’t figure out how to work the volume yet, so maybe he shouldn’t make any judgment calls. The sound is loud enough that it makes him grimace, and his head is already starting to pound a little bit, so he really should just accept the loss and try to turn the damn thing off before the battery runs out–

He’s startled from his thoughts as someone catches hold on his stolen backpack and yanks him backwards. His feet tangle and his heel catches on the curb, but before Wonwoo can pitch back and fall on his ass, a car speeding past catches his arm with their side mirror. He hears the crack of bone yielding even over the blaring headphones still tucked snug in his ears.

His hand curls tight over his arm before he even finds his footing. There’s no pain yet, not with the shock still so new to his system, so it’s mostly instinct that has him hunching his shoulder and curling his injured arm close as his heartbeat races in his ears.

Wonwoo becomes aware of the man in front of him slowly, brow furrowing as he spots the pair of shoes standing opposite of his own. When his gaze lifts to meet the other’s, it’s just a little unfocused, dazed. Even though he can’t hear a word the stranger is saying thanks to the music still blaring in his ears, Wonwoo recognizes the panic in the man’s expression and the frantic hand gestures well enough.

He shakes his head and tries to dismiss his concern with a too-loud “I’m fine. I’m okay, really.”

For someone as observant and analytic as Lu Han, lies hardly go by undetected.

He is no fool or at the very least, he is observant enough to know that the other male responded with a lie to his inquires - he cannot be blamed entirely, seeing as the two of them were strangers. Even so, this does not make the situation any less concerning than it already is. People passing by stop to cast glances at the two men, curiosity saying its word in the way that the look and whisper about the events that they caught sight of or not.

Lu Han’s worried gaze fades a slight as brows furrow and a frown overtakes his features. This was not a time in which one should mess around and try to hide an obvious issue, which he directly decides to address, “Are you? Then why are you holding your hand away like that?” A sigh leaves his lips, anger defusing rather quickly - he couldn’t stay mad a person he did not know, not when it would only bring more complications to an already concerning situation.

“I don’t mean to be intrusive and I apologize if my approach is a bit direct, but I don’t believe that you are being entirely truthful with me,” a pause, “Truthfully speaking, it isn’t even me that you are lying to, but yourself as well.” Experience taught him all too well that lying to oneself in regards to something would never do good, rather the very opposite. However, even if his words and intentions mean nothing but good, there is an extremely high possibility for them to be blocked out by the earphones which are still worn in by the other - those, he seemingly fails to notice.

@advxluhan​

the scent of freshly brewed coffee permeates the cluttered bedroom through the gap provided by the slightly cracked door. it is her favorite scent, one unsurpassed by any other─ whoever consents to being within the natural habitat that makes up sana’s room is sure to either be a fan of the smell or despise it with every element of their being.

hopefully lu han belongs to the former group instead of the latter. it would be a shame if he was of the latter, being suffocated by the steamed, espresso air. 

the coffee maker serves as an atmospheric sound in the not too far distance, working its glorious magic; by the time she started chattering away on a second topic of interest, she found her palms empty of the warmth they’d once been cradling. it goes to show just how long she’s been at it, all due to lu han’s lack of disruption.

seeing her this talkative is not as uncommon and unnatural as some might think it is─ she might be talking lu han’s ears off by this point but it still is nothing in comparison to how she speaks with changsub in the times when they’re not absorbed in their work. here she has pauses more often than not, both to find words and to collect her thoughts. with changsub, it’s all a mess of lingual swapping, hopping around when terms come easier in one language than the other, a disaster to whoever’s poor ears the exchanges might fall upon. she’s less nervous about messing up words and phrases when she can easily fall back on her native tongue with changsub than she is here with lu han; it puts a limit to her speed, keeps her rambling leashed and under a roof.

and unlike with changsub, the pauses give her more time to drink her coffee, which means she’s more likely to have more than a mere cup or two during their get togethers.

there’s another comfortable pause to be had when sana makes her most recent cup, settling back into her position at her desk. her room is a disaster, but that’s how it always is. it’s a small matter that lingers out of mind; as far as sana knows, lu han doesn’t mind, so there lacks reason to be too concerned, herself.

never mind the particular articles of clothing left out and unfolded after her most recent trip to the laundry area.

oblivious to every source of plight, sana blows a light wisp of chilling air across her mug before setting it down, waiting for it to drop a bit below scalding before attempting to drink it. it’s now that she continues speaking as she had before, though this time with a topic entirely unrelated to the one moments before─ it’s not related to her, for starters.

“what about you? has everything been alright?” 

The smell of coffee becomes one that Lu Han gradually adjusts to.

To say it wasn’t one that he particularly favored wasn’t far-fetched, but that didn’t mean he disliked it. Tea remained his prime choice when it came to warm beverages, but coffee was not one that he minded having every now and then - case in point, the meeting in which he finds himself at this very moment.

He cradles a still-warm cup in between his hands, letting the steam rise up while holding a conversation with the girl that sat on the chair opposite from his. There is a constant shift between actively contributing to the conversation and listening; he allows Sana to do most of the talking and finds it endearing, the way that the girl brightens up as certain topics are brought into mention. Had the setting been a little different, he would believe that he is in the company of an entirely different person - alas, he is not.

Lu Han’s attention, if not directed towards the girl herself, falls to the cup in front of him - he’s almost hesitant to drink at times, prolonging the time in between the sips that he takes - yet he remains alert enough to remind himself not to let his gaze linger away for too long. In their previous get togethers, he had the ‘luck’ of passing a fugitive look around Sana’s bedroom, which gained him specific imagery which he wished to know nothing about. The thought alone splashes color over his cheeks and he can’t help but feel guilt wash over him for having caught sight of the younger girl’s undergarments - striped, with polka dots and even lace.

Cursed be his mind for retaining everything in such vivid detail, and damned he be for thinking of it at a time like this. What sort of perverse being did it make him? He should not allow his mind to slip in such a direction, even if by accident; that was a mistake he rather not remind himself of every again. Still, his rigid behavior and rosy cheeks easily gave it away that something had gone wrong and although he tried to hide it by drawing the cup up to his lips, all that Lu Han managed to do was fog up his spectacles.

The cup is lowered without so much as a sip being taken of the coffee and he sighs internally while removing the glasses in order to clean them. Such was his luck and if he were to be seen like this by a particular individual, Lu Han would not be allowed to live things down. At least he relishes in the fact that Soohyuk will know nothing of his mistakes in that regard - does that make it a dirty secret? Heavens know why he is still even thinking about this.

Beneath his fingers, the pages of his book are crumpled, his fist having tensed up without his knowledge.

It’s a scary sight, vegetable and oil (or water?) droplets flying as the chef in question does little flips with the pan. The little faith he might’ve had in the male’s cooking skills are quickly dashed, seeing how badly the man had reacted to his question. The cook might’ve been startled, but Jaehyun might’ve gotten a mini heart attack. Hot oil flying anywhere ( especially towards one’s face )but within the boundaries of a pan would not be pleasant, nor appreciated.  

“Sorry,” He ekes out meekly whilst nodding his head in acknowledgement, just glad that it was nothing more than a minor slip up. Following the apology were simple ‘mmhs’ and ‘ahhs’ in response to the man’s clarification regarding the dish he was attempting to cook.

Looking down, he does a double take after realising what he’s done to his book and sets about smoothing out the pages ( while internally bemoaning the damage already done to said book ). Even so, he’s still got an eye on the other man with the reasoning behind said interest behind perhaps, 30% curiosity and 70% concern. And he’s soon rewarded with the knowledge that his concern was 100% warranted and not at all misplaced. 

Normally, when introductions were being made and names exchange, Jaehyun would return them in kind with a cordial smile to boot. He’s all for pleasantries and such, but when the man before him ( Luhan, huh? ) makes his introduction, he’s a little bit distracted by the crisp, bitter scent of burning vegetables. His eyes are anywhere but on the man, instead wavering warily on the pan that was just barely concealed by the male’s shoulder. 

Eyebrows furrowed, he opens his mouth to warn Luhan, but he doesn’t get the chance too.

It’s rather… fascinating? How the man seemingly shrinks upon the realisation of failure, and Jaehyun finds himself sliding off the bar stool and padding into the kitchenette. Taking a peek into the shallow pan itself, his lips involuntarily curve downwards just the slightest at the sight of the mess mix of various green blacken veggies both charred and melted into the base of the metal utensil. 

“Erm, if you want, I can help you re-cook your lunch?” He offers quietly, resting a palm on the man’s shoulder. “I’m sure we can still find some spare ingredients somewhere.”

Being approached in a moment such as this one makes Lu Han feel awkward.

Foolish as it might be, it doesn’t look as if he will soon be over the failure that rests against metal; charred remnants of vegetables, ready to go out of the pan and directly into the trash can. Perhaps this is a childish reaction, but he despises having things go to waste as easily as that - furthermore, he ought to know better too. This is what Lu Han keeps on telling himself, at least - that he should’ve known better. And yet, he did not. 

So much for following a simple recipe, huh? Having been witnessed by another doesn’t help, especially not when this was a first meeting. What sort of impression did he leave in the aftermath of this disaster, anyway?

He sighs again and grabs a spatula before moving towards the trash can, looking rather sullen as he worked the cooking utensil against the bottom of the pan to try and scrape off the burned vegetables. The offer made almost goes past him, drowned out by the sound of plastic grinding against metal - it’s what stops it. Rising from his slightly hunched over posture, Lu Han blinks several times upon turning to look at the other male - what was his name again? Right, presentations never went through properly. That ought to change, but not at that very moment.

“Would you?” if excitement doesn’t stand out crystal-clear in his voice, then nothing else does. Correction: it isn’t only in Lu Han’s voice that it shows, but also in the way that his expression lights up and how he perks up. “I mean, if I am not keeping you from anything else, then I would definitely appreciate the help,” although an offer made usually means that the person has both the time and disposition to uphold their word, it never hurts to be entirely sure about it.

For a moment, the man’s spine straightened under her slight touch, and surprised yet satisfied with his reaction, Jisoo gave a reassuring nod back at his wide eyes. Unbidden, a memory slid from the deep recesses of Jisoo’s mind, flashing its colors against her mind’s eye. A pitiful female military recruit, neither big nor as strong as her fellow male recruits, beaten down again and again by their laughter, condescension and fists. That’s right, Jisoo thought. Appear strong when you’re weak – and don’t let those vermin see. They’ll pick at it until you unravel and bleed; so prove them wrong: straighten your spine until you, yourself believe in your own strength; and grow from a vulnerable cub to a fearsome tiger of your own volition. Your growth cannot depend on anyone but yourself. Jisoo didn’t know if the boy heard her silent reassurance, but she turned her open back to him regardless, entrusting to him the choice to run away or to stay. Jisoo wouldn’t fault him regardless of his choice.

As Jisoo turned her blank gaze upon the trio of men, she thought them to be like ravenous, fidgeting crows; those three hungry omnivores who had no choice but to flock together in order to beat down a growing, hesitant cub. They were eyeing her hungrily too, their beady eyes appraising her worth. Jisoo knew she didn’t look like much: she was small, and not to mention possibly weaker in strength than the three men whose bulging muscles strained under the fabric of their shirts. But that was ok, because Jisoo could get a little….creative. Armed with the confidence of her army training; Jisoo lunged forward as they did, swiftly sidestepping a straight punch aimed towards her face. Jisoo reached out to pull on the carelessly outstretched fist, causing its owner to lose his balance, before swiftly nailing him in his solar plexus, successfully paralyzing his diaphragm.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jisoo spotted the damning glint of something in the hand of the second thug, and so she took no chances: she allowed the man to sneak up behind her – lull him into a sense of false security just so that she could nail him solidly in the jaw – and from the sound of his strangled yell and a sickening ‘crack’; Jisoo knew that he would probably need a hospital for that jaw to set properly in the future. When she turned to the third man; he was already gone. Typical. Jisoo thought. They act big and talk big when they’re wrapped in the security blanket of ‘strength in numbers’, but the second the odds are turned against them; they show you who they really are. Cowards.

Jisoo turned back to see the wide-eyed man still present, his hands still white-knuckled in his grip upon the briefcase. Jisoo was surprised – she thought he would run away, but this only shows that perhaps he was made of a tougher type of material than the thugs at their feet. “You’re welcome.” Jisoo murmured, and settled for laying her jacket upon his shoulders. She sincerely hoped he wasn’t going into shock; because Jisoo would have absolutely no idea what to do if that happened. “They’re gone.” Jisoo said after a bout of awkward silence. (Well, not completely, Jisoo thought as she peered down at the unconscious men at their feet.) “We should probably get out of here.” Jisoo peered at him cautiously. “Are you… ah… feeling ok enough for us to go?”

Had he been all on his own, the outcome would’ve been extremely different.

Instead of several bodies laying on the floor and the remaining few thugs having ran off, Lu Han is positive that he would’ve been the one forced to lay down, rendered unconscious before being stripped bare of his most prized belongings. A silent breath gets exhaled in relief as comfort gets derived from the train of thought. Even so, comfort is minimal and he is not entirely unaffected - visibly, he is still uneasy.

When his savior addresses him, questions him of his current state, Lu Han can’t help but fall silent-still for a moment while gazing upward towards the woman. At a first glance, she would not strike one as having such power or skills to match up to a relatively large gang of troublemakers; she is petite, lithe and yet she comes prepared. The saying holds truth, for a book truly never should be judged by its cover. This serves as a reminder rather than a lesson learned, since the lesson itself has been taught to him at an earlier stage of his life.

A shake of the head pulls Lu Han out of the trance-like state in which he fell and brings him back to the surrounding reality - to a metaphorical hand being extended to him. He doesn’t hesitate to take it, and although there isn’t actually anything for him to grasp - aside from maybe getting a good grip of himself - the man rises to a standing position and offers a firm nod of the head to the woman. “I’m alright, I assure you you.” 

First.

It is as though every word that has fallen from Kang Joon’s lips is carried away by the wind, the existence of his spoken concern but a whisper in his memory. The man’s response—or more accurately, lack thereof—is concerning, to say the least, and he wants more than anything to impatiently repeat the words he’s sure he’s uttered, but he supposes he needs to give the man time to respond. If the man is truly suffering from an illness of sorts, then of all people, Kang Joon knows best that a symptom of a terrible illness is the disassociation from reality. (And if the man is truly suffering from an illness of sorts, then there is no way Kang Joon is going to leave him alone, whether or not Joy may be waiting for him. If his suspicions ring true, then his presence may be more detrimental to the man, but Kang Joon has the ability to cure the man of his sickness, even though he can’t control it. But that is enough of an excuse to give him a reason to try.)

Second.

There are visibly signs indicating that the man is waking from his daydream. It is displayed in the fluttering of his eyelids in an attempt to blink away whatever is left of the dream; the slow regain of the use of his muscles to angle his head to Kang Joon’s direction; the indecisiveness as expressed by the man’s moving lips, all tell-tale signs of confusion as one is attempting to rid themselves of the haze of an illusion. Kang Joon retracts his hand slowly, and although he still worries tremendously for the mutant in front of him, the worry is noticeably clearing. It seems the latter will be fine, and really, that is all that matters.

Third.

It takes the man three whole beats too long to reply to Kang Joon—three beats too long for Kang Joon’s comfort—but he does eventually, and the lack of concern he has for himself seems to imply that this episode is not the first of its kind. It’s enough to cause the germaphobe to worry—although really, all Kang Joon does is worry—and so he doesn’t let up until the latter explains that it is all part and parcel of his mutation. It is then when his shoulders drop in relief and a melancholic smile replaces the concerned frown on his lips, because boy, does Kang Joon understand. How many times has he sluggishly walked—often times on the verge of collapsing—with his body covered in sores and yet, when a kind stranger expresses their concern, Kang Joon simply shakes his head and tells them that he’s fine, even when he looks like he has one foot past death’s door?

Kang Joon shakes his head in agreement to the man’s sigh, which he perceives as frustration at an ability that neither has asked for, nor wanted, and he briefly states, “it’s… it’s alright. I understand completely. Perhaps more than you will ever know.”

Gloved hand stretches up to meet Lu Han’s hand, and he gives a firm shake before quickly dropping his hand back to his side, “I’m Kang Joon. It’s nice to meet you.”

He wants to say more. He wants to say that he knows exactly what Lu Han is going through, wants to say that it feels so good to know that he’s not the only one alone in this—sure, there are many mutants in the foundation, but he hasn’t yet met anyone who’s displeased with their ability, at least not in the way Kang Joon hates his ability so much, he’d take a cure in an instant if there was one—and honestly, he’s curious as to what kind of ability would be as loathsome as the one he has.

He opts to inquire about the third one, meek voice piping up, “what is your ability? If you don’t mind me asking…” but he doesn’t bother to tell the latter the rest, in fear that he’ll scare Lu Han away.

He understands belatedly that his inquiry may make him seem awfully nosey for a stranger, though, and so as a consolation, he quickly regales, “I control the immune system,” and he lifts the Immunology textbook in his arm as though it would be of any help in his explanation, “I think. I don’t really— I don’t know how it works. All I know is everyone around me gets sick.”

Kang Joon furrows his eyebrows as he thinks back to his previous theory about the latter—that perhaps the man is sick—and he begins to wonder if Lu Han’s ability was just like his, or perhaps the latter controlled a different aspect of the body system which also led to diseases. And so, because he cannot control himself—especially when it comes to the topic of the human body—he blurts, “does it have anything to do with diseases? Do you control an arm of the body system? Perhaps the uh… the circulatory system? Blood? Do you control blood?”

Before he realises it, he’s looking at Lu Han with widened, feral eyes. He calms quickly, and a quick apology is uttered before he’s back to his meek self. This is perhaps one of the biggest flaws of the learned: they get all too passionate when the topic of conversation revolves around their field of study. So Kang Joon has to bite his cheek and keep himself from bursting out any further and scaring Lu Han away in the process. (Though if he’s honest, he thinks it’s far too late for that.)

This is the calm before the storm.

Even with the previous nervousness that came over him, Lu Han manages to find his calm when there is receptivity towards his ability; it is not met with a look of disdain, rather it’s accepted and even strikes interest. Even if he is still reserved on disclosing any information about himself or said power that he possesses, he feels content enough with knowing that there was no longer any need to fear speaking openly about the other side of him. It doesn’t need to be kept hidden, placed under lock and key and covered up by feeble lies - speaking about it was acceptable and beyond.

His hand gets drawn back once the handshake ends, a smile rests onto his lips by then - he is visibly more relaxed. A light glints in his eyes when he is told that he is understood and when further information is relayed as to why. This is an abrupt change to all that he has gotten used to in the years that passed from the awakening of his powers, yet he’s not reticent to it - no, everything is welcomed with child-like greed. 

Laughter leaves his lips in response to the way that Kangjoon grows eager, to how words leave his lips at a much quicker rate, but it’s not meant to last. It catches in his throat and dies out when questions are asked about exactly what his power does. Subconsciously, Lu Han is aware that this is not ill-intended and that Kangjoon merely got a little too excited. However, being aware of that detail doesn’t seem to help him speak up any quicker; just like the laughter, words are now lodged in his throat. For a man that has been gifted with extraordinary oratorical capabilities, he is now reduced to silence by several questions asked.

It is not the nature of the questions that make him silent, rather the information that they carry with them. Daybreak is filled with individuals that have a wide array of powers, that he knows due to the many conversations held about the foundations and its inhabitants, yet Lu Han never allowed his mind to wander as to what exactly one could do. The mere idea of one being able to control either their body parts or that of another person seemed odd, then the one about controlling blood was beyond what his rational mind could fathom - still, he knows that they all exist. 

“N-No,” the long-overdue answer eventually comes, short and simple compared to the amount of talking which Kangjoon previously did. Instinctively, he removes his glasses and proceeds to clean them with a handkerchief that is retrieved from the breast-pocket of the blazer; this is a habit of his that allows Lu Han to put his thoughts into other, although it gets severely overdone on most occasions. This one is no exception, because the glasses soon begins to squeak due to how clean it is, yet he doesn’t cease passing the piece of cloth back and forth over them.

( @advxluhan )

when he’s with lu han, soohyuk’s smiles actually reach his eyes. he’s not as tense and on guard as he is around nigh anyone else (quite easily barring naeun and her mother alone). it’s easy, disgustingly so. he wonders idly if anyone on the outside ever notices the way his laughs get a bit thicker when he’s poking fun at lu han, the way his foolishness turns a bit more physical and playful – how he’s actually harmless in that way that guard dogs are “harmless” when they’re with the people they protect.

he rather hopes lu han doesn’t think too much of it, really. anything different would be inconvenient.

it’s terribly hard to contain his amusement, even some time after they’ve departed from soohyuk’s room – and the sheer hilarity that ensued upon lu han meeting his roommate, especially. it will take some time for lu han to live that foolishness down. he most likely knows that, much to his misfortune.

this is one of the many coffee shops that soohyuk’s scoped out since coming to incheon; the atmosphere is quaint and easy, a perfectly warm and cozy place to enjoy good tea and a bit of conversation. (if conversation with soohyuk is even enjoyable; he has no idea why that would be.) he’s settled into his seat with a mug of earl grey in bare hands, michiko seated on the table beside his cup, elbows on the surface as he leans in toward lu han. he’s got the dish holding his tart rather oddly comfortably balanced on his head – this is somehow normal behavior for soohyuk.

“ahh, you shouldn’t be so concerned, though,” soohyuk offers some form of reassurance, not nearly to the extent of his previous teasing, as he idly stirs sugar into his tea, “it isn’t as though changsub-ssi has terribly much room to speak so far as calling you a pervert.” it’s half-hearted, amusement still lingering in his tone; soohyuk doesn’t really mean most of the nonsense he says. he just likes to joke about his roommate’s propensity for watching things – among a few other fairly untroubling (to soohyuk, which says nothing whatsoever) quirks.

“actually, i’m beginning to think it may be a fault of the foundation,” soohyuk states oddly emphatically, pointing his spoon at the younger man with a pointlessly grave expression. “unusual people having unusual interests? why, it could be a conspiracy.” his signature grin cracks its way across his lips – this is just plain silly, and he knows it. “if that’s so, i should keep a closer eye on naeun-yang, or we might have a real problem…”

To Lu Han, Soohyuk remains a mystery.

Even with the passing of many years since the male was first discovered by him and Naeun, the elder never became any easier to understand - he was like a maze, one in which Lu Han often found himself getting lost into while in the process of analyzing the other. There are days when he feels as if he has the elder figured out, that he understands the way in which Soohyuk thinks and acts, but there is always something which causes that judgment to feel errored and inconsistent. 

To make up for that, Lu Han consoled himself with the thought that he has a mild understanding of Soohyuk, or at least certain sides of him - those, he doesn’t doubt, even with the occasional changes of behavior. To say that he trusts the elder is a misunderstanding, although his faith feels rightfully placed in the hands of said man. It is a continuous to and fro, and while he might question the choices made every now and then, he never truly doubts the other.

It will never be admitted outwardly, but Lu Han cares; he considers Soohyuk his friend, perhaps the very best. It shows not only in the way that he tries to reach out and offer aid or to cover up for certain things done, but also in how he ‘puts up’ with the occasional jabs made on his expense. Case in point serves as a prime example to that, in spite of the overly-exaggerated reaction that’s brought to surface. It is worthy to note that, while he is prone to having quite loud and over-the-top reactions in general, it’s in Soohyuk’s company that they are most comical.

The chair which he was seated on gets pushed back as Lu Han comes to stand, hands slamming themselves against the surface of the table, causing the cutlery and china set clank with the waves of tremor caused by his action. “What do you even mean with that?!” if his reaction is not boisterous enough, then his raised voice surely draws attention to their table - more than already was, that is. 

“For the last time--” he re-takes a seat at the table and reaches into the pocket of his blazer to retrieve a handkerchief, thereafter removes his glasses and begins to clean them with the piece of cloth, “Those accusations were wrongly made. And take that plate off of your head, people are staring at us!” it isn’t only his voice that raises this time, but the speed at which he cleans his oval-shaped spectacles grows more rapid.

What is further relayed to him does no good in letting Lu Han pace himself, rather it amps up his nervous state and has him clean over the glasses even as they squeak with cleanliness. His expression shifts, grows pensive and perhaps even grim - Naeun’s safety remains a priority to the both of them, although it manifests differently. 

To think that Daybreak could bring her at risk causes his heart to sink and feel heavy; how could it not, when it was his suggestion for her to be brought here? He is consciously aware that there are and will be things which neither he, nor Soohyuk would be able to protect her from, but this doesn’t make matters any less concerning. His hand stilled onto the right lens of his spectacles and his gaze dropped a slight, lifting only as a sigh gets breathed out, “I wish to believe that it is not like that. But...” even if for a split second, his eyes bear into Soohyuk’s, “Even if I am wrong, I trust that you came here to ensure that Naeun-yang remains safe.”

Yeri never made it a habit to believe in hope, but something flickered inside her at the sight of the stranger not only halting, but then proceeding to approach her. Through half-lidded eyes she could see his careful navigation, silently chuckling when he headed straight towards the nearest pedestrian crossing like a good boy. Or maybe she made no sound at all, as her lips barely moved, but some semblance of amusement was felt in her core. He was there in record speed, something she hadn’t expected but was much grateful for. The red-haired girl had, however, not planned this far. She said nothing while watching him crouch down, the epitome of a knight in shining armor if she ever saw one. Something rattled inside her, and she wasn’t sure if it was benevolent. 

With all the precision, strength and speed she could muster Yeri darted out with her arm, straight towards the stranger’s scarf, and quickly slid her hand inside the fabric and hooked her cold fingers around the warm, bare skin of his nape. Not harsh, but firm. For him to have come this close, she wouldn’t allow him to move any further away until she was safe. The small glimpse of heat was enough to bring forth a burning desire to slide in under his clothes and wrap tight around his body. If the numbing cold didn’t stop her from transforming, her self-perseverance would’ve turned her into a snake on the spot. “I assure you this will be as awkward for me as it will be for you…” Yeri admitted in a low, raspy voice. It almost sounded as if she hadn’t used it in years. “But you can’t leave my side until I say so. It’s an emergency.” Note to future self: would this work as a pick-up line if refined?

If it wasn’t for the mask that was covering her mouth, he would’ve clearly notices that her breath wasn’t warm enough to form the same clouds he did whenever he exhaled. Her coldness was that of a corpse, thorough and daunting. He had merely asked if there was something he could do, not straight up confirmed that he would help her, but by now he had no choice. Yeri stiffly angled her face to look straight into the man’s eyes. “I…” Fucking hell, how embarrassing wasn’t this? “I need you to carry me back to my place. I can’t walk like this, and it’s only getting worse.” She wished that was explanation enough, not that she wouldn’t manage to fabricate plenty of lies if so needed, but she really didn’t want to discuss this further. Everything was aching, and she was so tired. She didn’t want to add to the heaping pile of rubbish by admitting that if he didn’t help her, she would, most likely, die. 

Yeri caught herself closing her eyes, and with sheer willpower she snapped out of whatever daze that tried to seduce her into much needed slumber. Instead she reached out enough for her free hand to (at least attempt to) curl short fingers around the hem of his coat. But even holding on to a handful of the fabric was hard enough as the strength to grasp wasn’t quite there. “I’m really sorry about this, but please…” cut your stomach open so i can crawl inside you the luke skywalker way, was what she wanted to say, but instead her words were cut short and silence filled its wake. Could she be more pitiful? 

In a matter of seconds, everything takes an unexpected turn.

The moment that the red-haired girl lunges at him, Lu Han fights the instinct to retaliate; he halts, forces himself to remain still as cold, pale hands reach towards his neck. Had he fallen into a trap? The answer comes rapidly and is negative, joined by a shive which ran down his spine in response to cold fingers pressing against the nape of his neck. Color is quick to rush to his cheeks at the oddly intimate feeling of the gesture; it didn’t feel right to him to be touched like that, so he fought away thoughts that rose up to his mind. The girl’s words – her, a stranger to him – made it no easier for him, given how the likeness of them was associated to some form of innuendo – just what was she playing at?

When she shifts, the urge to draw back resurfaces, but Lu Han is held in place by a indescribable force, by cold hands that still hold onto him – their grip is weak but they shatter his own strength of will. Words of protest don’t leave his lips, even if he jolts backward a slight as the girl angles her head in order to have their gazes meet; his glasses slide down his nose a slight and eyes widen at the request which leaves her lips. It was beyond him what was more shocking at this point, the request or the way that she latched onto him – why did she? Furthermore, was she unable to walk because of the cold of the evening? The possibility of that seemed highly plausible, yet the elder notes that the temperature wasn’t exceptionally low.

Nevertheless, Lu Han is drawn out of his train of thought, of this attempt at making sense of the situation by her words of apology, joined by a silent plea and hands grasping at the hem of his coat. His gaze runs astray for a moment, as he contemplates and weighs the options he had. Against all protests made by every fiber of his being in not helping – this was fear speaking, backed up minimally by a tinge of rationality – he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before leaning forward and bringing his arms to slide underneath the form of the other, cradling her up into his arms. She was much lighter than expected, he notes, although there was no real expectation present to begin with.

Yoongi recognizes good and well when he’s made a mistake. His body knows just how to fight him and prove to him that he’s more of a screw up than he might remember. He’s been inside for a while now. He hasn’t felt like leaving the room due to nightmares and lack of sleep. His body is still covered with scars and, honestly, he find them appalling. They disturb him. He can’t stand looking in the mirror and dealing with the memories of how they came to be, let alone the concept of letting too many people see him this way. Anyone who cares even the smallest bit for him is sure to panic- to think down on themselves when they think that something awful has happened to him. He doesn’t want that. He never has. He’s stayed inside to avoid the pity- the heavy glances. He simply doesn’t want to leave, but that has lead to a very unfortunate situation.

Keep reading

There information comes too rapidly for him to fully process it.

If Lu Han’s eyes were widened in shock before, now they were the size of saucers as he looked at his roommate; making any form of sense out of what is told to him turns out to be difficult. Those are words he cannot wrap around his mind: that he shouldn’t be touching Yoongi or anything within reach, or else death would come his way. How could such a thing be possible, when there was nothing in the room aside from the two of them? As if to check and ensure that he’s right, his head is on a swivel, turning around to check the surroundings – nothing.

It’s early for him to draw any conclusion yet, even in the restless state that his mind is. Lu Han’s hands feel clammy, they close and open up, fingernails dig crescents into the palms of his hand and teeth grit together; he feels helpless, yet he’s not the one requiring aid. A bitter sensation creeps throughout his body and he tastes it on his tongue as eyes grow stingy – he can’t cry, he repeats to himself that he cannot. It’s not a moment for him to show weakness and allow himself to give in, rather he needs to be strong – for himself, for Yoongi most of all.

Perhaps it is that very thought that has him on the move, or perhaps it is the other mutant’s words – he cannot die, Yoongi will not die. That is a silent oath which Lu Han makes to himself – to the both of them – as he spurs from the spot, arms extending themselves as he reaches for the other. Against all warnings, the elder does the very opposite and reaches out to grab the green-haired male by the upper-arm and shoulder, gives him a light shake while beginning to speak, “Yoongi! Min Yoongi, listen to me, alright?” a couple moments of silence pass before he speaks again, inhaling a deep breath prior to starting. “You are not going to die. You are here, in your dorm at Daybreak. You are safe,” although some words are stressed on more than others, each of them are punctuated individually.

A pause ensues again and he inhales in attempt to clear his mind, to piece his thoughts together and put them in order; words would not suffice, they could never fully reach out to a person that’s been brought to the edge of despair. So much, he knows and thus he bites down onto his bottom lip nervously while contemplating what else he could say or what could be done to properly give Yoongi the much-needed boost.

Salvation always seems to come at a price.

Brown colored eyes fixate onto the younger male and they widen while looking him over; the shards that bite into skin are finally noticed, along with the blotches of red that stain over fabric. Lips part, teeth releasing the lower lip from their hold and a barely-audible gasp sounds up; in his mind, Lu Han has already traced, mapped out and counted the number of steps which he would need to take in order to get the first aid kit from the bathroom and return with it. Twenty-four steps, no more and no less – he is twenty-four steps away from granting his roommate a minimal amount of relief from his suffering.

@advxluhan

Disorientation usually hit as soon as Yeri became aware of the lethargy, and by then it was impossible to stay sharp. The student felt so heavy where she sat, somewhere along a sidewalk who knows where. Her feet were placed firm against the ground, unable to move. Her elbows were resting on her knees, hands cupped to prop up her head by the chin – without support it would surely plop down on its own. She had no strength left, but there’s no chance in hell she’d let her guard down so easily. Now would certainly be a good time to call Jinyoung, as she had done once or twice before, but her phone was back in her bag, that’s… Yeri tilted her head to the side, just enough to feel the soft skin of her earlobe brush against the strap of her backpack. To her relief she hadn’t dropped it, but there was no energy to shrug it off and start rummaging around.

The cold quickly turned into a full-body numbness, with no chance of retrieving the heat that she had lost. While she continuously breathed into the mask covering her mouth and nose, her exhale wasn’t warm. She needed an external heat source and, preferably, to get inside. “I don’t understand…” She cursed to herself. She knew what had to be done, and how to do it, but there was no way to signal that to whatever part of her body would get the job done. She couldn’t really feel most of her limbs anymore, so she had to be creative. These streets were fairly empty as far as she could tell, and none of the people she spotted seemed particularly keen to look at a sketchy young adult like herself for too long. As soon as eye-contact was established, they stubbornly looked anywhere but in her direction. It was frustrating, but she didn’t want to waste energy scoffing at their cowardice. She was perfectly aware of the fact that she probably looked both drunk and high – not quite the regular look for a damsel in distress. 

“Hey!” Her intent was to yell as loud as she could, but muffled through the mask was a fairly loud mumble. Did it sound like she slurred? To her utmost embarrassment it did, and Yeri could count herself lucky that she was in no position to blush in her current predicament. There wasn’t enough blood circulating to bother with her cheeks when her heart was pumping like a madman to aid more vital organs. Immediately she realized that everything she did from now on would be regretted, but she didn’t have much choice. Instead she nailed the stranger down from across the street, hoping he had heard her and, desperately so, wished he wouldn’t write her off with no more than a glance in her direction. To be on the safe side she curled one index finger to beckon him over. Better save her voice to relay more important information. And to not risk scaring him off, as she seemingly had a very strong habit of doing so. If she could just get inside somewhere, anywhere, at least she’d stabilize. Her instinct for self-preservation would always be stronger than any potential embarrassment. 

The chill of winter evenings has people rushing back and forth, hasty in their step as they seek refuge from the cold weather.

Lu Han moves along with the crowd, blending into it while making his way back to Daybreak; the day had been long and dreary, so he looks forward to nothing more than to relax over a warm cup of tea in the warmth that his room provides. A sigh leaves his lips at the very thought, breath turning into a small cloud of white-colored smoke as it hangs in the air and his arms come to drape themselves around his form, drawing closer the coat that he sported; his head dips forth, burying itself nose-deep into the woolen scarf which was bundled up around his neck.

Warmth comes minimally, but he finds comfort in it. He reaches up to curl his gloved fingers over the folds, grasping them in a weak hold and bringing them to press closer to his face – silently, he appreciates this long-received gift that lays wrapped around his neck. Had it not been for shouting to draw him out of this little moment, Lu Han would’ve surely relished in it more – it made him forget about the surrounding cold. Gaze lifts itself as steps draw to a stop, head turning to the direction where the noise came from in attempt of spotting the person which called out.

Eyes widen as they rest onto the form of a girl which lay on the other side of the sidewalk, one who was ignored with ease by those passing by; it was a sight that he was accustomed to from his own country, but it felt no less unjust to leave one to waste away like that. Straying from the original plan of heading back to Daybreak, Lu Han rushes to the nearest pedestrian crossing and moves to the other side of the sidewalk, where he immediately heads in the direction of the girl.

Oh… kay.

Kibum froze at the sound of the other’s voice, his eyes the only things moving as he glanced over tentatively at the man who was now awake. Heck, what was he supposed to do now? He cleared his throat slightly and moved the stool closer to the bed. “Uh… well, before I explain anything I’m going to go inform someone that you’ve woken up,” he said as he began to stand, “the doctor told me to you see. Hold on.” Key all but sprinted away from the bed directly to the nurses’ station.

The doctor who had patched up the man initially was busy at the moment but he’d be around as soon as he was free, thank you, please wait by the patient in question. Kibum bit back a grimace opting instead to smile politely before heading back to awkward central. “The doctor will come by to check on you soon,” he said sitting down on the stool once more. Silence stretched for several minutes as Key wondered what he should say.

Right. You can do this.

“So…” Kibum began, gripping the edge of his seat, “you wanted to know why you ended up in the hospital. Right. Um, okay. Well, uh, you see… you kind of saved me from laying there instead.” He flashed him a nervous grin, hands now clasping each other tightly in his lap. It sounded so very dramatic but that’s what had happened. “Instead of the flowerpot landing on my head… it landed on yours. Because you pushed me out of the way. Uh, you lost consciousness—I guess it hit you pretty hard—and there was a lot of blood so I called an ambulance, and well,” Kibum spread his arms, “that’s how you got here.”

He shuffled sheepishly again after he’d finished his explanation. What exactly did you say to someone who took a figurative bullet for you? Especially a stranger. Who the heck was this guy? “Oh, my name is Kim Kibum by the way,” Key blurted out extending his hand, “and don’t worry about the hospital fee. I’m covering it since, you know, you saved me head from being smashed in. Thanks.”

It seemed that obtaining an answer would take a little while longer.

As with any other institution, there was a protocol which required to be followed – Lu Han knows this best. As such, a nod of the head serves as a silent reply to the words of the other, after which brown orbs follow the frame of the man as he distances himself from the bed, crosses to the door and sees himself out of the room.

A heavy breath is exhaled and a hand is brought up to touch over the bandages, fingers gingerly gliding along the white fabric; a headache remains present, although it dulls out under the effect of the medication the personnel administered to him. Questions rose up to his mind still, in his attempt of mapping out and tracing back the events which lead to him laying down on the hospital bed; there is little that comes to mind aside from running errands, so he assumes by default that something occurred in that time.

The reverie is brought up a halt as his gaze snaps back towards the same male from before, who now re-entered the hospital room. Nervousness is met with calmness, with a nod of acknowledgement and a smile resurfacing to the younger male’s lips – this is the minimal amount of comfort that he can provide. Lips part as an affirmative response hangs at the tip of Lu Han’s tongue, one that’s never to surface due to the latency in reacting. Thus, he is left to listen to the story that is being relayed, offering a nod every now and then to show that he is being attentive to what is said.

The missing pieces of the puzzle come together, completing it and making the picture whole – he remembers. The events are blurred out some, but he’s cognizant of the timeline and how it unfolded. The smile on his lips turn sheepish as the hand fiddling over the bandages is lowered down to his lap, joining the other and folding together; this act of heroism was marked by uncharacteristic recklessness. “I see, I see,” embarrassment creeps up in his speech, even if it’s discreet – he attempts to hide it, holds himself from slipping into habitual reactions which give away how he feels towards being ‘treated’ for having saved the elder.