Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Standing in the entrance way to the nursery, Sehun was struck with the overwhelming sense that it was too yellow. It was the first time he’d felt that way, the first time he’d found the white curtains with yellow embroidered suns offensive. He wanted to rip up all of the beige colored, almost off yellow carpet, to destroy the rocking chair with the yellow cushion, and utterly slash to pieces the wallpaper that depicted a familiar Pooh bear on his never ending quest for honey.

It was too yellow.

It was too bright.

The gentle ticking from the far wall drew Sehun’s attention away from the brightness of the room for just a second, reminding him that it was half past ten, which meant he was late. He wanted to laugh at the notion of being late getting to the church. It wasn’t as if they could start without him.

He reached out a shaking hand to run across the smooth wood of the crib. It was a dark oak, full of blemishes and spirals that made it look charming in an almost rustic way, and of all the things Sehun hated in the room, the crib was the only thing spared from his wrath. He could still remember seeing it in pieces, in need of sanding, freshly cut and primed for the first coat of lacer. Sehun had seen the crib before it had been a crib, as gentle, worn, capable hands molded it in to the bed that would protect their child through the night.

The bedding inside, however, had to go.

Sehun reached down for the white sheets and ripped them up easily, tossing over his shoulder a yellow pillow, tiny stuffed animals, and even the more decorative parts of the crib that were meant to be taken off before any baby ever went to sleep in it. It all was thrown to the side carelessly, kicked to a pile on the ground, leaving only the barest of mattress underneath.

Next came the tiny dresser against the far wall, underneath the window with the atrocious curtains.

He pulled roughly at the handles on the dresser, chipping deliberately at the paint that was a recent addition, the aftermath of Sehun’s last short vacation from work. And then he was overturning the contents inside, scattering the ground with baby sized socks, shirts, dresses and an endless stream of ribbons.

Sehun really hated the ribbons.

It hadn’t even been his idea to learn the gender of the baby. He’d wanted to wait out of caution, especially considering the bad fortune Sehun’s sisters had had in particular with unstable and unsustainable pregnancies. But then Sehun had heard the heartbeat, and he’d seen the fetal movement, and there’d been tears and pleading and just like that Sehun had learned he’d have a daughter.

A precious, beautiful, wonderful daughter.

It had simultaneously thrilled and terrified him, the idea that he would have a baby girl in his life, who would likely become his everything.

The ribbons had come in earnest after that, in all colors, sizes and even shapes. By the second trimester they’d had enough ribbons to keep their daughter stocked in decorative headgear likely until she hit high school.

Maybe a little part of Sehun had been thankful. After all, he didn’t really know much about girls, despite having three sisters, no matter how willing he was to learn. And he was more excited about getting to take his girl to swim lessons and Jamboree, than eventual bra shopping. Let others buy her the girly stuff, he’d told himself, and he’d laughed off the fact that the ribbons kept coming in.

A voice cleared behind him.

In response Sehun swiped viciously at the nearby lamp atop the dresser. It cracked loudly as it hit the carpet, and it was one less thing that was bright and happy about the room.

“Sehun.”

Sehun paused, shoulders tensed.

Silence slipped through the air, terrible and horrible and stale.

And then finally, finally, the voice said once more, “If you keep this up, you’ll regret it in the end.”

The words stunned Sehun a bit. They weren’t what he’d been expecting in the least bit. He’d thought there’d be admonishment heading his way, or some proper chastising. Not words that sounded like a warning.

“I think,” he ground out in response, feeling flippant and soulless, “I can do whatever I want in here.”

As if to prove his point, he gave a nearby bookshelf a severe kick. It was the tiny kind of bookshelf that was meant to be tucked into the corner, filled with books that only a toddler would begin to grasp. And indeed when Sehun’s foot connected, picture books and baby soft toys came crashing down, scattering across the floor. Sehun stepped pointedly on a nearby duck that had dared to come too close to him.

“We’re running late,” the voice said again, and Sehun knew what he’d find if he turned. He knew he’d see his brother-in-law framed in the doorway, a carefully constructed look of patience and understanding on his face.

Only Sehun hadn’t been the only one at the hospital when the news had come in. Sehun had stood there while his brother-in-law, Suho, crashed to his knees, holding his mother’s hand like a child, begging and pleading for her to tell him that the doctor was wrong, that his little brother wasn’t dead, and that neither was the baby.

At the memory, Sehun ripped at a hanging tapestry, something his mother had sewn for the baby the second she’d found out it was going to be a girl. Sehun had three sisters, with him being the youngest, and still he was the first to give her a grandchild. It was possible she’d been more excited than him in the beginning, though certainly not more devastated by the end.

“I don’t think they can start without me.”

His heart was starting to beat faster, the anger in him rising, and all he could see was yellow everywhere. Yellow on the walls. Yellow on the carpet. Yellow in the toys and clothes and the figurines that had been purposely chosen for display, even though the baby had been expected to sleep in a cot in the master bedroom for a good three or four months before even seeing the nursery.

Yellow, the color that Sehun had compromised to, after months of gender color debates, theme arguments, and finally one tearful reminder that it didn’t matter what the nursery looked like, only who was intended for it.

Carefully Suho moved into his periphery, dressed in a perfectly formal black suit, looking pale and painfully young. He told Sehun, “We need to leave for the church. I don’t … I can’t understand what you’re doing in here, or how you think this will make you feel better, but we need to go.”

Sehun gave a dry chuckle. “You think this makes me feel better?” It didn’t even come close to the word better, but it did make him feel, if only for a brief second, like the world wasn’t going to fall out from under him, and he was going to keep breathing. Whether he liked it or not.

“My parents are waiting,” Suho added, and if that wasn’t a dirty, underhanded tactic, Sehun didn’t know what was.

In the beginning Suho had hated him. Suho had done everything in his power to run Sehun off, thinking him a flirtatious but not particularly sturdy partner. Suho had tried intimidation, bribery, and downright threatening him, but Sehun had persevered, absolutely certain he’d found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But Suho’s parents had been different. They’d liked him almost from the start, thought him youthful and ambitious, and though not without his flaws, fully capable of giving his heart and soul to their youngest.

“Your parents are there as well.”

Sehun’s parents, he cared slightly less for, other than the fact that it wasn’t lost on him the death of his husband and child was what had taken to get them in the same room for the first time in almost a decade.

Bowing forward, Sehun rested his arms on the dresser in front of him, pressing his forehead against the coolness of the wood. He had to go. He knew he had to go. But it was so … final. If he went everything would truly be over and done.

“We have to do this one last thing,” Suho said kindly, laying a hand on Sehun’s shoulder. “It … goddamn it sucks, but we have to.”

When Sehun turned fully towards him, struck by the cracks in Suho’s normally strong voice, he was surprised to see a staggeringly different picture than what he’d imagined. Instead of necessary perseverance on Suho’s face, Sehun saw nothing but raw sorrow. Sehun saw the face of a man who’s just lost his younger brother and niece, the two people who mattered the most to him in the world.

And suddenly Sehun realized he wasn’t the only one who’d carried around ultrasound pictures in his wallet.

“I’m not sure,” Sehun started, leaning an elbow more heavily on the dresser as his knees turned to jelly, “that I can make it on my own.”

Suho’s shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath. Then he reached out for Sehun, tugging him into a breathless hug, promising him, “I’ll help you make it.”

Suho nearly carried him the whole way to the car.

Everyone was already inside the church when they arrived, likely seated as patiently as possible, murmuring to each other about his absence and their understanding of why it must be so difficult for him. And in true form, Suho let Sehun sit in the car for minutes after they arrived, not saying a word, and hardly moving.

The truth was, Sehun wasn’t religious in the slightest. His mom had dragged him to church a few times as a child, but the older he’d gotten, the more ridiculous it had seemed. To him, the bible was just something of fantasy, made up of riddles and anecdotes and all the things that Sehun, who was more practical than not, found childish. He much preferred science and logic to religion, and hardly had time to entertain Christianity or Buddhism.

Jaehyuk had been different. Jae had been …

Sehun had agreed to a church wedding because Jae had wanted it so badly. Jae, who was bright and optimistic and happy almost all the time, found comfort and warmth in the stories that Sehun found juvenile. He found acceptance and reassurance in the services he’d attend at least once a week, and for Jae, being religious had been important to him on a level that Sehun had struggled to understand.

So naturally it only made sense that Jae’s funeral would be held in a church.

“Ready to go in?”

Sehun pressed a hand against the window, gazing up at the huge white building. Inside was the body of his husband. Inside was the body of his child. Inside were crying family members, the pastor who’d married them, and probably the whole of their wedding party. Sehun’s coworkers would be in there, his friends, and probably a good deal of students from the school that Jae had taught at. There’d be hundreds of people, all packed in, and they were waiting for Sehun to be ready.

He’d never be ready, but he said anyway, “I think I have to make this walk on my own.” Then he got out of the car, his black tie feeling like a noose around his neck, and made the short journey up to the double doors that no less than two years ago he and Jae had burst through after reciting their marriage vows.

He could feel them all starring at him as he walked as quick as he could manage down the long isle way, towards his mother who had saved him a seat in the front, and his eldest sister who was weeping openly.

He sat.

He listened.

He did not cry.

There were two caskets, a choice which Sehun had had no hand in. In fact he’d had nothing at all to do with the funeral. But it wasn’t as if he’d been slighted. Almost all of him that had mattered had died with Jae and their baby. Getting out of bed now was enough of a challenge on most days. Planning a funeral seemed an impossible test.

But two caskets? It was something that filled him with disgust, maybe even offense. Jae had wanted their baby more than anyone had ever wanted a baby. Jae had loved their baby since before conception, and had done absolutely everything right from the very moment. He hadn’t so much as touched a drop of alcohol, he’d gone to all of his classes, he’d eaten right, taken his vitamins, and been the best protection for their baby humanly possible. He’d fought until the end to protect their baby.

He shouldn’t have been buried separately from the baby.

Quietly from behind Sehun, Suho leaned forward and asked, “Do you want to say something?” The pastor spoke first, but his eulogy was thankfully short, and now family members and close friends were trading off at the front, sharing their favorite stories and memories.

Did he want to say something?

Sehun’s hands fisted the material of his pants. He wanted to scream and shout and be furious with the world. He wanted answers. He wanted justice. He wanted things to be different and to be practicing more hospital labor drills with packed suitcases and backup sets of car keys. That’s what he wanted. He wanted his husband back, with his impossibly bright smile and kind eyes and warm touches. He wanted his baby girl.

He did not want to speak.

And so the hours dragged by. For too long Sehun held his mother’s hand and watched the clock on the far side of the room. Speaker after speaker came and went, and Sehun found himself drifting, remembering the look on Jae’s face when Sehun had proposed, and the moment they’d found out they were going to be parents.

Their girl, she’d been a surprise, but not an unwanted one.

As Suho climbed the small set of stairs towards the speaking podium, Sehun’s eyes locked on the tiny, horrifically small casket that his daughter’s body was encased in. It seemed a cruel joke that something so small would exist, or that there’d be a need for it.

It seemed even crueler that in a short while she’d be lowered into the cold, unforgiving earth and smothered with dirt. Family members and well wishers would lay flowers on the headstone that was already in place at the local cemetery, but no matter what, she’d be alone when everyone left.

If anything Sehun thought he should have fought everyone on that.

“Sehun?”

A light touch to his elbow brought him out of this thoughts and it was only then that he realized everyone was standing for a final prayer. He clambered awkwardly to his feet, his mother’s arms around him as she cried louder and louder, and he closed his eyes out of respect as the prayer began.

As afraid as Sehun had been to attend the funeral, he was even more afraid for when it was over.

The pallbearers took the coffins just after that and Sehun sat down hard, feeling the people stream past him, following the coffins traditionally towards the Hearst that would take them directly to the cemetery to be buried. Sehun did not go, instead he sat there, legs splayed out in front of him, struggling to breath normally.

There was no going back now. There was no pretending. Jae and their baby were gone.

“I take it you don’t want to go,” a deep voice rumbled from the side, and soon Sehun’s longtime friend Kai was sliding next to him on the pew. The dance instructor looked absolutely out of place in his high collared white dress shirt, his black jacket nearly crumpled into a ball in his hands.

Just behind Kai Sehun could see Chanyeol, watching with tentative eyes, and D.O. even further back fingers rucking up his hair in a nervous tick that said he’d been emotionally exhausted by the funeral. But it was Baekhyun on Sehun’s other side, holding out a water bottle for him, who looked the most devastated of the group.

Of course he was devastated. Jae and Baekhyun had known each other since primary school, taking their teaching exams at exactly the same time, and had been hired miraculously at the same academy. Sehun had had to woo Baekhyun, in a manner of speaking, before he could even begin to make a move on Jae. Baekhyun had lost a brother the same as Suho, blood related or not.

“No,” Sehun said, fingers sliding against the precipitation on the water bottle, “I don’t fucking want to go see them put my family in the ground.”

He got up then, putting the unopened bottle down where he’d been sitting.

“Sehun?” Kai asked, eyebrows high.

Sehun pulled roughly at his tie, loosening it until it hung down around his neck sloppily. “I need to talk a walk. I need some air.”

Kai got to his feet as well. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

Sehun gave him an acidic look. “I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.” He pulled again at his tie until it came undone and hung limply around his neck. “Just give me some space, guys.”

He was trying his absolute best, which he almost though he deserved a medal for considering how little he cared about anything at all now, not to hurt the people surrounding him. They’d loved Jae too. Their love had been a different kind, but they’d loved him all the same. Baekhyun had been his best friend. Chanyeol used to take him karaoke singing every Wednesday night. Kai had given them the dance lessons that they’d used for their wedding, and D.O. was still the only person who’d ever been able to teach Jae to swim without him panicking. They were family. These men were family, and they didn’t deserve him being an asshole.

“I’m not going to go walk into traffic,” Sehun said, trying to reassure the concerned faces in front of him. “I’m going to work on Monday. There’s a deadline coming up that I committed to, and I won’t let the team down.”

It was particularly Chanyeol, who worked with Sehun, who looked the most uncertain and said, “You don’t have to come back to work so soon. Sehun, I know our divisional manager gave you additional time off, all things considered. I don’t think you should come back just yet.”

“Don’t think I have my head on straight?” Sehun accused, but he tried to keep any kind of betrayal from his face. “Chanyeol, I need my work right now. It’s the only thing I have left.”

Chanyeol gave a shaky nod. “At least let me drive you on Monday. We’ll get lunch together, and go out drinking afterwards.”

Sehun forced himself to say, “Okay.” Now if only they’d let him have his space.

The funeral ended, at least the more formal aspect of it, just before two. And for the next six hours, Sehun walked. He walked Seoul what felt like a million times over, only deliberately avoiding the cemetery. His feet, pinched by his dress shoes, started screaming in protest only an hour in, but still Sehun kept walking.

The sun was on the horizon, just one more yellow thing to crawl under his skin, when he realized where his walking had taken him.

He was frozen at the realization, and stranded as his feet refused to move him even an inch.

He must have stood there for at least another hour, blocking the flow of traffic on the sidewalk, looking more than a little odd, feeling as though he might waste away at any moment.

A car honked suddenly, closer than expected and unlike the sounds that came from the nearby lanes of traffic. It honked again and Sehun startled, turning to see a familiar Honda and the gesturing man inside.

Finally Sehun’s feet let him move, if only to allow him to crawl inside the Honda that he’d spent countless teenage years in.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Chen demanded, gripping the wheel tightly as he merged back into traffic. “Here, Sehun? Of all places, you wanted to come here?”

Chen sounded so angry, and Sehun felt so defeated.

“I didn’t see you at the funeral,” Sehun said, sinking down in the worn seat. It was hard for him not to feel a certain fondness for the car every time he spotted it. He and Chen had driven all over South Korea in it as teenagers, getting into all kinds of messes, and having the best years of their life.

“I was there,” Chen grit out. “In the back. I didn’t think you needed me crowding you up there at the front. You had people lined up around the block for that.”

Sehun told him honestly, “You were probably the only person I wanted up there with me.”

Chen was his best friend. They’d been best friends from the second they’d been paired together in their freshmen biology class, Chen, an absolute academic superstar, and Sehun, more interested in doodling in the margins of his notebook. They’d been complete opposites, with next to nothing in common, but Chen had laughed at the jokes Sehun cracked, and Sehun had understood the way Chen explained their labs.

“How are you holding up?”

Sehun sighed, “I didn’t mean to go there. It just happened.”

Reaching into his pocket, Chen with drew his phone and tossed it at Sehun who caught it awkwardly. “Just so you know, I’ve been out here for hours, driving around mindlessly, ever since our friends started leaving messages on my phone about you being missing. They seemed to think you were going to …”

“Take the easy way out?” Sehun asked. And he supposed it was. Dying was easy. Living was proving to be the harder part. “No, Chen. I told those idiots I just wanted some air. I think I deserve some air, especially today. And I just mentioned I didn’t mean to end up where I did.” Sehun cut him a sharp look. “Did you know I’d go there?”

Chen risked a quick look to him before they were moving deeper into traffic. “Maybe you went subconsciously, but you know I don’t think you went there on purpose. I just thought I’d check to be sure. I just think … why are you torturing yourself like this?”

“Oh fuck off,” Sehun snapped.

They drove on in silence for a moment until Chen asked, “Do you want me to take you back to your place?”

To the cold, sterile walls that would forever be empty? To the house that Sehun and Jae had pooled all of their savings, all of their parent’s savings, and even some of their friend’s savings, to pay for? All for their expanding family?

“There’s nothing for me there,” Sehun grumbled out. He’d spent the past few nights alone in the house, wandering the empty rooms, feeling more and more like the walls were closing in on him. It was too quiet and he absolutely hated it there.

Chen took them downtown, the sun even further gone now, and bright lights taking its place. “Then you’ll crash at my place tonight. Got it? You’ll stay with me every night until you want to go back, or until we figure something out.”

“Your girlfriend is going to love that,” Sehun pointed out.

Chen rolled his eyes. “Well, I loved you before I loved her, so she’ll deal. And my couch is amazingly comfortable, so don’t even think about saying no. You don’t get an option here, in case you were confused.”

“I want to sell it,” Sehun said suddenly. “I want to sell the house. I can’t stand it. I hate it.”

“It’s a pretty house,” Chen offered, voice a little tight. “And you got it for a steal.”

“Jae picked out the house,” Sehun bit out. “It’s his house. I can’t stay there.”

Without warning Chen pulled suddenly to the side. They were in a tow away zone, the car idling across the fire lane marked underneath them, but Chen didn’t seem to care for a second as he turned to Sehun and said, “I’m so damn sorry for you, Sehun.” Then they were hugging, Chen holding him in the kind of hug they’d shared at their graduation, the kind that was a little too tight but meant to say everything without words. “This is so unfair and I’m so mad for you having to deal with this.”

Slowly, like he was sinking into a bog, Sehun relaxed against Chen. “Thank you, Chen.” It seemed hardly believable, but his best friend’s simple words had actually helped, even if only in the slightest.

“You don’t want to go the cemetery? Not to pay your final respects?”

Sehun shook his head. “I did that at the hospital.” He’d gotten to sit with Jae’s body in the morgue for a couple of minuets, and hold his cold hand, and weep silently. He’d said his goodbye then, and also to the baby that had been ripped from Jae’s body in a desperate attempt to save her.

Chen threw the car back into first and eased off the clutch. “Then you know what we should do now, right?”

Sehun honestly wasn’t sure, he only knew Chen was the only person in almost a week who’d made him feel the slightest bit like he wasn’t drowning in an endless sea of pain and misery.

“Go deal with a wake full of people who are going to pretend to understand the pain I’m going through?” Sehun guessed. His mom, between her tears, had told him days earlier that she and Jae’s parents would be taking care of that aspect as well.

Chen shifted the car into second as they picked up speed. “Fuck that,” Chen said, putting his turn signal on and swerving severely to the left. “We’re going to a bar. We’re going to get wasted.”

Chen was probably the best friend to have ever existed.

So still dressed in their funeral clothes, though when they peeled off their jackets and ties it wasn’t too hard to pass for someone who’d just dressed up for work a bit, they headed towards the best drinking spot in Seoul.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best spot per say, but Sehun and Chen had discovered it on the night they turned nineteen, both had their first kisses that night, and gotten to know the owners pretty well. It was a bar that was more modern than a lot of the others in the area, with karaoke rooms, a dancing floor, an open kitchen most of the night, and enough warm bodies to make Sehun forget himself.

“Here,” Chen said, having to shout over the loud voices and louder music as they stumbled their way through the doors and to a nearby booth. Chen handed him a long necked beer and additional bottle of something that looked suspiciously like soju.

Sehun wasted no time downing the soju, wincing at the taste, then following it with better tasting beer. He pressed back to Chen, “We need shots!” He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t had this idea before. Already he was feeling the slight buzz of the rush that wasn’t too far away, and it was dulling the memory of the funeral.

“Shots,” Chen agreed, and then they started drinking in earnest.

It must have been hours of it, though Sehun wasn’t sure, but steadily a collection of empty bottles built up at the table. Chen sunk lower and lower in his seat as his words began to slur together. And Sehun drank until he felt sick. Then he kept drinking. The high lights above him spun, the music hurt his ears and he wanted to press his forehead to the table and just pass out. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could drink himself to death.

“I hate this,” Chen mumbled, almost vertical on the booth’s seat, curled in on himself. “I hate that Jae is dead. I hate we had to burry him. I hate you lost the person you love. I hate you lost your daughter. I hate it all.”

Sehun polished off his last bottle of soju and leaned heavily against the table as he staggered his way to his feet. “Bathroom,” he grunted out. He couldn’t stay there a second more and listen to Chen say what Sehun felt.

Sehun took likely the longest pee of his life, pointedly did not wash his hands, and then was stumbling his way back to Chen when he saw him.

He saw Jae.

But not. That wasn’t possible. Jae had been cold and dead for days, and he was six feet underground now. It couldn’t be Jae that Sehun saw, but everything looked the same. The man in front of him, laughing drunkenly with a couple of friends was the same height, with the same colored hair, the same slender, beautiful fingers, and even the same complexion.

It wasn’t Jae, he told himself. It didn’t matter how much his drunken mind was trying to convince him that this was.

Then one of the man’s friends was pointing at him and the man who was not Jae, but bore a striking resemblance to him, was spinning around towards him. A look of pleased surprise blossomed on his quite beautiful face and then he was making his way towards Sehun.

“Sorry,” he said, the words a little awkward coming out, as if he wasn’t completely confident in them, “but I just lost a bet.” The man’s voice was soft but not feminine, and then Sehun stopped thinking all together.

Jae was kissing him.

No. He told himself again, this wasn’t Jae.

But if he closed his eyes and pretended, it was easy to trick himself into thinking it was Jae. Jae had kept his hair short but fashionably styled like this man, and it had been the same auburn color. Jae was almost this man’s exact height, which meant Sehun could put his hands on his shoulders and pull him in for a deeper kiss. And Jae had surely been as slender as whoever this man was. The only thing wrong was that there wasn’t the prominence and firmness of a baby pressed between them as they kissed deeply.

“Wow,” the man said, eyes glazed from alcohol as their lips slid together so easily it was almost as if they’d been doing it forever. “You’re a great kisser.” There was an accent to his words, something Sehun couldn’t pin down. But this man was a great kisser as well.

So for that moment, Sehun let himself pretend. He let himself cup the man’s cheek and pretend it was Jae’s as he kissed firmer and more wholly. He squeezed his eyes closed as the man’s hand caught at his waist just like Jae’s always had, and with the smell of the bar covering up the man’s cologne, Sehun fooled himself.

And it wasn’t enough. He and the man pawed at each other openly, likely obscenely, alcohol overriding both of their senses, some innate compatibility taking complete control.

Sehun kissed with ever fiber of his being, fingers sliding up into hair, soft lips urging him on, and the catcalls behind them falling away.

Sehun wasn’t sure how it happened. He wasn’t sure how the trickery had turned to need and lust and desire, but soon enough he was mumbling about a cab and wanting the man. And the man was kissing back his agreement, something almost primal sparking between them.

He’d never taken someone home from a bar. Before Jae he hadn’t been old enough for the activity, and afterward he hadn’t wanted anyone but Jae. But neither had he ever felt such a thing between himself and another person. Sehun had been drawn to Jae’s kindness and warmth and his downright lovability. This was completely different. There was fire here, and Sehun had to have it.

He had to burn away the pain of knowing he’d never have a steady partner again, or go to bed with the same person over and over again. He’d never have again what he’d had.

Somehow, maybe by the grace of the god Sehun hardly believed existed, he and the beautiful man ended up in the back of a cab. With Chen back at the bar, along with the man’s friends, Sehun mumbled out his address, tossed money at the cab driver and then pressed himself down against the man next to him, his fingers trailing over the smooth, soft skin.

“Your house?” the man asked as they stumbled their way up the driveway fifteen minutes later, Sehun clumsily punching in the security code with fingers that felt too fat and sausage shaped to manage it. “It’s so nice.” The man was listing dangerously to the side by the time Sehun got the door open, and Sehun wasted no time in hitching the man up and pressing him up against the hallway wall, attacking his mouth once more.

They pulled off their clothing right away, fingers and mouths everywhere, Sehun beyond all rational thought.

“I want you,” Sehun said, more falling with his companion on his bed than anything else. He wasn’t even sure how they’d gotten from the foyer to the bedroom, which was quite the walk with stairs involved. “I want you now.”

All naked skin and long lines, the man underneath him hooked an arm around the back of Sehun’s neck and responded, “I want you too.” He pushed his hips up against Sehun’s, creating wonderful friction.

Sehun let loose the rest of his control.

The man peppered kisses along Sehun’s neck, dragged his tongue against the stubble there, and all but begged, “Take me.”

In a haze of alcohol and lust, Sehun fumbled his way through an act that previously had meant so much to him, kicking at the sheets on the bed as he fought to get the proper leverage. He gathered the man up in his arms, pressed a sloppy kiss to his mouth, and then simply felt.

It was the most he’d felt in days.

In fact, no matter how much it pained him to admit it, it was the most alive he’d felt since his husband’s death. The best, too.

And when he was done, shuddering with his release, bringing the man with him, the man who’s name he didn’t even know, he was able to collapse down against the sheets Jae had personally picked out for them with the kind of release of tension he was starting to feel as if he’d needed. And Sehun, who was not an overly tactile person, gathered the man close to him, despite their sticky and soiled bodies, and requested, “Stay.”

He meant to say, just stay with me so I’m not alone, please, because I’m afraid to be alone.

The man laughed, stealing another kiss from an unsuspecting Sehun. “I don’t even know you.”

“Stay,” Sehun requested again, placing a hand on the man’s waist. “I’ll blow you in the morning if you do.”

Slender fingers pushed up at the nape of Sehun’s neck and the man said, big eyes almost doe like in their size, a beautiful brown almost amber color shining at Sehun, “You don’t have to promise that. I’ll stay.”

The more Sehun looked at the man’s eyes, the color too easy to make out with the full moon’s light shinning down on them from the high bay window across the room, the more Sehun thought they were probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Okay,” Sehun said, feeling sleepy from the drinking and the sex and the emotional exhaustion of the day. “Just stay.”

The man’s eyes. Amber. Almost amber, with specks of brown and hazel and maybe even a little green. Amber.

Not Yellow.

Chapter Text

Luhan woke up with a start, eyes blinking open wide and unfocused for a moment, mouth feeling like he’d filled it with peanut butter the night before and forgotten about it.

And where the hell was he?

A quick look to the side showed a lump in the bed next to him, a lump that Luhan had little memory of, and a bed that he most certainly knew wasn’t his own. The pounding in his head, the after effect of some evil substance called soju that he instantly vowed never to drink again, was making it hard to think. But he sort of remembered the night before. Sort of.

He remembered the bar, and he remembered Tao and Lay buying him drinks to commemorate finally telling his parents off, and then he remembered … a dare?

Slowly, and with a gentle hand, Luhan peeled back the blanket of the man next to him.

At least he’d picked a winner. The man sleeping curled onto his side, on hand tucked up to his chest and the other underneath a fluffy white pillow, was extremely good looking. With angular features this man, whoever he was, was attractive. And a further look down his body proved that he was nicely built as well, with defined arms, powerful looking shoulders, and the hint of abs that were probably more existent than the man’s sleeping position allowed for.

Because there’d been a dare.

That was right. Now Luhan remembered a dare. He’d had shots with Tao, argued about something, bet something, lost something, and now it all seemed rather comical, but he’d been dared to kiss the person of Tao’s choosing. Thank god it had been someone attractive, and someone Luhan probably would have wanted to sleep with anyway, though he seriously doubted Tao or Lay had expected him to go home with this man.

Luhan wasn’t sure why he’d done it in the first place, either than the fact that he’d clearly had way too much to drink.

And the kisses. Luhan remembered the kisses. They’d been very good. And the man’s hands had been big and warm and almost felt safe when he put them on Luhan’s shoulders and waist and then cupped his cheek for a controlled kiss. He’d seemed big and strong without being imposing, like a solid mass that would take care of him.

It was infinitely stupid to go home with someone from a bar he’d met through random kissing, and the twinge in his backside agreed, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

Sliding from the impressive bed he’d slept in, Luahn gave an appreciative look around the room. It was well furnished, full of clean lines and a modern feel. It was impressively expensive, though not obscenely so, and it was certainly a far cry from the loft that Luhan kept. Not better though. Luhan rather preferred his small but cozy nook in Seoul, full of his art and his knickknacks and his personality.

Finding his shirt was easy enough. It was crumpled by the door, creased in a way that made him want to iron it right away, but perfectly intact. He slid it over his head, the shirt helping with the chill of the house, and then set off to look for his pants.

He found his boxers near the bedroom’s bathroom door, thankfully enough, then continued on his way.

His cell phone was what he was truly after. He had to find his phone and let his friends know he was okay. Anyway, what kind of friends were they to let him just go off with a strange man? Luhan could have been picked up by a serial killer, and for all they knew, he could be in a million pieces in someone’s meat locker.

Not all good looking men had good intentions. Luhan knew that personally.

Leaving the bedroom took him down a long hall, past other closed doors, three which he counted, and one that was cracked. He gave pause at the cracked door, natural curiosity eating at him for just a minute before he pressed on. He didn’t need to get distracted. He needed his pants and his phone and hopefully his wallet. He needed to get out of the house before the man upstairs woke up, and he absolutely had to avoid any kind of awkwardness.

Luhan had never done the proverbial walk of shame, and he wasn’t about to start now.

So down the stairs he went, hand sliding against the banister, and down into the living room that was just as modern as the bedroom, but this room felt a lot more lived in.

The couch had creases, indicating someone sat on it a lot. There were photographs lining the walls, rolled up magazines hanging from a wrack, and all the evidence in the world that the room was well used and probably well loved.

But still Luhan couldn’t find his pants.

Picked up speed, he passed through the pristine kitchen, and then there was the formal dinning room, the lounge area, and even the pantry.

He was beginning to give up hope when he spotted his pants in a heap at the back of the foyer … where they had likely been stripped from him moments after entering the house. Of course.

Luhan made a beeline for the pants, and would have made it without incident if he hadn’t skidded to a stop prematurely, completely distracted by the art hanging from the nearby wall.

It was only distracting because it was his art. It was his art on the wall.

Luhan had come from China to South Korea to study. He’d been able to talk his parents into such a thing only by citing that it was a learning experience in and of itself, would give him a chance to pick up a second language, and held all the promise of transforming him into the dedicated businessman they’d hoped for since he’d been born. They’d let him come because he’d lied about coming back more interested in his father’s company, when really he would have said anything to get away from the way his father gripped him tightly enough to bruise and his mother told him constantly that he was letting them down.

Instead he came to South Korea to be free and to hone a hobby that he wanted to make his career. He did go the university, and in fact he was still enrolled, looking to finish his degree very shortly, but most of his time and dedication was devoted to his artwork. To his painting. He held all the passion in the world for art, wanted to have a gallery of his own one day, and sold his work at the café that his friend Kris’s parents owned, the downstairs part to the building that he lived in.

Few people bought his art, which was more impressionistic and abstract than anything else, but he’d sold a few pieces in the months since he’d finally given in and let Kris put them up for sale. He’d sold three. Now he was looking at all three.

With a shaking hand he reached out to touch the canvass of the painting nearest him. He remembered painting that specific piece right after hearing form his parents that they expected him to return home to China sooner, rather than later. He’d painted it knowing their patience was wearing thin, and that they were likely becoming suspicious that he’d been staying in Korea for the holidays and telling them nothing of his school work.

He didn’t particularly think they wanted to hear about how he’d declared himself in the liberal arts department, and not the business one.

So he’d painted out his feelings, in splotches of black and red and blue. And when one canvass hadn’t been enough space, he’d expanded to two, then three. It had actually been quite difficult part with the paintings, but the extremely nice man who’d bought the series had said he felt an emotional connection to the paintings, and to the energy it gave off. He’d liked the art for its anger and frustration, but also its honesty, and he’d wanted the pieces so badly he’d been willing to offer double to Luhan what he was asking at the time.

For such a visceral and honest response, Luahn might have given them to him for free.

So what were the three pieces doing now in this hose? This house of all houses.

Luhan tried to think back to exactly that the man who’d bought the paintings looked like. He’d been attractive, Luhan remembered that, but gentle in a way that men usually weren’t, though certainly not weak. He’d been respectful and polite and he’d shaken Luhan’s hand with a surprisingly strong grip. Most disturbing he’d looked almost too much like Luhan himself. They’d had a good laugh over it for a minute or two, wondering if either of their families were hiding a dark secret from them.

The man had left a lasting impression on Luhan for days, but he most certainly was not the man that was asleep upstairs.

It was a curious thing.

The lock on the font door turned.

Luhan froze, standing in a shirt and his boxers, and wondered if the shame that he’d been hoping to avoid was about to become impossible. Oh god, did the man have a roommate or two? Or worse, a significant other?

It was a man in the doorway, carrying a bundle of groceries, and he had a shocked expression the second he saw Luhan. He was also blocking Luhan’s path to his pants.

“Who are you?” the man asked with a dark expression, holding car keys in one hand almost like a weapon. “Where’s Sehun?”

Sehun. Huh. So that was the man’s name. Sehun.

Luhan put his hands up a little defensively. “This is awkward, I’ll admit that, but it’s not what you think. I’m not breaking in or anything.”

The man eyed him suspiciously. “Then what are you doing here?”

Luhan gnawed on his bottom lip for a second, then gave a finger point up to the stairs. “I … umm … drank a lot last night. And …”

Recognition passed over the man’s face, and then there was the addition of disbelief. “Sehun brought you home last night?”

His face heating terribly with embarrassment, Luhan said, “We both had a lot to drink. We didn’t drive.”

“I know,” the man said with some relief.

Luhan gave a gesture down to his pants, near the man’s feet. “I just want to get my pants and I’ll go. This was just a random thing. I’m not looking for a relationship and I really don’t want to be here when the guy from last night--Sehun, wakes up. I just want to get my pants and I’ll be out of here.”

Wordlessly the man stepped to the side, giving Luhan more than enough time to get his pants and slide them on. A quick look to his phone showed that he had quite a few messages from various people, including Tao and Lay.

“Oh, no.” His phone was there, but his wallet wasn’t.

“Sehun really brought you home?”

Luhan’s head jerked up, towards the man. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He searched his pockets again, desperately hoping that he’d find the wallet the second time over. No wallet meant no money, and he wasn’t even sure where he was.

“Nothing,” the man said, shaking his head. Then he paused, squinted a little and said, “It’s crazy how much you kind of look like …” Then he was stopping again.

There was no wallet. Luhan was absolutely sure. His wallet was gone, and had probably fallen out in the cab, or at the bar, and was long gone. He’d have to call someone to come pick him up, and hope that they weren’t too far out on the fringes of Seoul.

“What’s the matter?” the man asked, starting at him.

With a huff, Luhan admitted, “My wallet is gone. Do you know what this address is? Do you live here?”

The man shook his head. “My brother-in-law lives here. I was coming to check on him after he went missing from a bar last night with a friend of his.”

“Not missing,” Luhan said, scrolling through his contacts. “He’s sleeping upstairs.” Lay. He’d call Lay. Lay didn’t work until the afternoon, had his own car, and was nice enough to feel guilty over Luhan leaving the bar with a stranger. Lay would come get him.

“Here.”

Luhan looked up from his phone to see the man holding out money towards him, and quite a bit of it.

“You can’t be serious,” Luhan said, feeling severely insulted. “Are you actually trying to pay me? For what? My services? I’m sorry to tell you I’m not a hooker.”

The man thrust the money at Luhan more firmly, and eyebrow arched. “Actually it’s for a cab. I take it you can’t find your wallet? I mean, you can use the money to take the bus if you want, but you look a little rough from drinking last night, so you could probably do with a cab, and I don’t know what made Sehun take you home last night, but you probably did him a favor.” The man’s shoulders fell. “Some of us were afraid he’d walk away and not come back. I don’t know what it means that he showed an interest in you, but at least it’s something.”

Luhan continued to eye the money warily. “An interest? We were both drunk and that’s it.”

“Fair enough,” the man said, “now take the money. You can reimburse me later if that’s what you really want. But go get a cab.”

Against his better judgment, Luhan took the money. As little as he liked the idea of owning money to someone, he liked even less the thought of sitting on the curb waiting for Lay to pick him up.

“Thanks,” Luhan said, stuffing the money in his pocket. “I’ll do that, I’ll reimburse you.”

The man shrugged.

Luhan made a beeline for the door, his hand curling around the handle. He braced himself to meet the sunlight, a terrible headache pounding in his head. Then he paused. He turned back to the man in the foyer, the brother-in-law to the man he’d just slept with and asked, “Do you know where these paintings came from?”

The man looked absolutely surprised, his eyes flickering over to the three pieces on the wall. “Those?” He clearly wasn’t sure, then said, “My brother must have bought them. He really loved art. He loved artists even more. Guess that’s why he married Sehun.”

Luhan felt his stomach knot up immaturely. Of course he’d gone and slept with a married man. Of course. That was Luhan’s life at the moment.

“Damn,” he said, tugging his fingers through his bangs. How could he have thought anything different about Sehun? The man was exceedingly attractive, seemed nice enough from what Luhan could remember from the bar and the trip to the house, and was obviously quite well off. How could he not be married?

Though it begged the question why Sehun’s husband’s brother was so okay with the fact that Sehun and Luhan had just slept together, but Luhan wasn’t going to be picky. It wasn’t his fight to get involved with.

“Why?” the man asked, turning back to Luahn. “They are pretty, I guess, in a weird kind of way.”

Luhan shook his head. “Never mind.” Then he was descending the steps to the house, intent on putting it from his mind completely.

Didn’t everyone have at least one drunken encounter in their life? Didn’t everyone make a mistake that they regretted in their younger years? This was Luhan’s. Him sleeping with a married man was Luhan’s one free pass.

Before leaving completely Luhan took note of the address, fully intent on giving the money back at the first opportunity, then called for a cab and headed home.

Home was a tiny loft above a busy coffee shop located less than a block away from a presidios university. It was premier in its location and meant that the coffee shop was always packed with students, and also meant that they were constantly understaffed. Luhan had a job waiting for him any time he wanted, which he was certain he’d have to take Kris up on sooner, rather than later. He hadn’t heard from his parents yet that he’d been cut off, but neither had he checked his bank account. It was likely closed by now.

Most days Luhan liked to go through the coffee shop to get to his loft. He loved the smell of coffee, enjoyed the fact that there was always someone in the corner strumming a guitar or leading the patrons in some kind of sing-a-long, and he absolutely craved the atmosphere of the shop that screamed how inclusive it was, and how it wasn’t pretentious in the slightest bit. Not like the Starbucks that had moved in across the street and Kris had declared war on based on principle alone.

The coffee show was eclectic, and that’s why Luhan thought it was better than Starbucks. None of the chairs matched, there were sofas instead of tables mostly, and the carpet was stained with coffee in a way that no one cared about. From the ceiling hung snow flakes even in June, and the baristas made a point of memorizing their repeat customer’s orders. It was the kind of shop that a guy could sit in for eight hours and not have to worry about being asked to leave from, and it was the best place in the world for making friends.

But for the moment Luhan took the side entrance, climbing past the middle floor that Lay lived in, and up to the third where he collapsed on his own bed and buried his face in his arms.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration running up his leg, but he ignored it.

“Ugh,” he grunted out, irritated that he’d gotten wasted enough to go home with a married man, and that his friends hadn’t stopped him, and that he’d had sex and hadn’t even …

Luhan shot up from the bed, absolutely terrified at the thoughts that were running though his mind at the moment.

He’d had sex. He’d had unprotected sex.

“Xiumin,” Luhan said the moment the line clicked over and he could hear his best friend’s greeting on the other end. “I need you to … I have to ask …”

To his credit, Xiumin could sense something was wrong with him immediately, and asked, “What’s going on? Luhan, breathe.”

In a rush Luhan explained what had happened, and then said, “What if I got something? What if this guy, this Sehun, wasn’t clean? What if I…”

Xiumin, who’d been Luhan’s guide via the university for a full semester as he learned the language, was probably the most responsible guy Luhan had ever met in his life. He was currently studying to get his veterinarian license, worked part time at the coffee shop, and still made time for Luhan who couldn’t get enough of Korea and its food and its tourist spots and all the things that Xiumin probably didn’t want to do or see. Xiumin becoming Luhan’s best friend had been a gradual thing, certainly not an instantaneous, and Luhan had never been more thankful for the man.

“Luhan,” Xiumin said in a disappointed way, then added, “are you at home? I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Xiumin made it in twelve, driving the car his parents had gotten him the previous spring, and he had a dark look waiting for Luhan when he got in.

“I know,” Luhan said, already feeling shame.

“You know?” Xiumin questioned, fingers white knuckled on the steering wheel. “You know that you just went and did something that can ruin your life? You know that you are actually risking your life, by having unprotected sex? Luhan, you know that not using protection is not using your brain?”

“I know,” Luhan said with a huff. “I know, Xiumin. I was drunk.”

He could barely remember Sehun. He could barely remember the cab and having sex at all. There’d been so much alcohol in him, and so much lust running through his body that he hadn’t been able to spare a single thought for protection. It was stupid and horrible and his own damn fault, but the last thing he wanted was a lecture from his friend.

“You think being drunk is an excuse?”

Luhan banged his head against the car window. “It isn’t. Christ, Xiumin, I know I screwed up.” After a few more moments of silence he asked, “Where are we going?”

“To see my sister,” Xiumin said sharply. “To get you tested.”

Xiumin’s sister was a pediatrician and Luhan had met her more than a couple times, finding her personable, charismatic and absolutely charming. She also had a kind hand when treating her patients and Luhan felt better at the notion that she’d be the one seeing him shortly.

But the next few hours were still excruciatingly painful. Stripped down to a hospital gown, he sat in the private clinic she worked in and had his blood drawn, swallowed down a morning after pill, and went through a litany of tests that were humiliating.

“How long will it take for me to know?” Luhan asked her nervously, feet swinging from the high bed he sat on. The paper underneath him crinkled as he shifted.

Xiumin’s sister, who was looking at him with the same comforting expression she gave to children, said, “This office isn’t equipped to deal with the kind of extensive blood work necessary to determine if you’ve contracted anything from syphilis to HIV, so I’m going to have to send you blood out to another lab. It’ll be a few weeks at least, Luhan.”

A few weeks. He had to wait at least a few weeks to learn if he’d gone and had one roll through the sheets with a good looking man in exchange for HIV.

Luhan gave her a shaky nod. “And the pill I took?”

“Next time you come in we’ll take more blood for a pregnancy test,” she assured him, covering a nearby hand that was shaking with one of her own. “But the pill should take care of you in that regard.”

Luhan let his head bow down, his chin resting against his chest.

He’d just gone out for a few drinks with friends. And look at where he was now.

“It’s going to be okay,” she told him softly. “You’re not the first person to experience something like this, and you won’t be the last. Let’s not panic until we have your results back.”

Hadn’t he only just been shouting at his parents over the phone, telling them that he could take care of himself? Hadn’t he said that he was an adult now? Adults weren’t supposed to do reckless things like have unprotected sex, not when condoms were so readily available, and education on the matter was so ingrained.

“Ready to get dressed?” she asked, helping him down from the table.

Weeks, Luhan told himself again. He’d have to wait weeks to know if he was carrying anything.

“What did she say?” Xiumin asked when he met back up with Luhan in the waiting room. “Are you okay?”

Luhan leveled a serious look at Xiumin. “I won’t know for a while, they have to send the blood out to a lab for more extensive testing.”

It wasn’t until they’d climbed in the car for the trip home when Xiumin said, “I’m sorry for being so angry at you earlier.”

Luhan gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry for being so stupid. I just wasn’t thinking. I was drinking. I was stupid.”

Xiumin started the car and said, “You’re going to be okay, Luhan. And I’ll be here with you.”

That did, against Luhan’s expectations, make him feel slightly better.

Lay was waiting for him, holding a half empty coffee cup, when Luhan once more climbed the stairs to his loft.

“Lay,” Luhan sighed out, not in the slightest bit in the mood. “Whatever you want to throw my way, can we do it another day?”

The look of hurt on Lay’s face was almost enough to make Luhan regret his words.

Quietly, Lay said, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I almost called the police last night.”

Luhan’s eyes widened as he opened his door, allowing Lay to follow him inside. “Why?”

“Why?” Lay demanded incredibly. “Because you disappeared from the bar and Tao and I weren’t sure what happened to you.”

Tossing his keys in a nearby wicker basket, Luhan questioned, “What do you mean I disappeared?”

It had been his belief that his friends had let him go wandering off with Sehun, but maybe that wasn’t the case at all.

Luhan was forced to admit, “I don’t exactly remember last night very well.”

Lay gave him an indulging look. “Well, you did drink Tao completely under the table, and it’s the worst I’ve ever seen you.”

“What happened?”

Lay said, “There was that stupid dare, where you had to kiss that guy. And Luhan, I’m really not sure how much you remember, but you seemed to be really enjoying it. Really, really enjoying it.”

Luhan made a sour face. “Apparently that guy, Sehun, was a good kisser.”

“Must have been,” Lay chuckled, “because Tao and I basically had to pry you off of him. You were rambling on about having found your one true love and that guy must have thought you were someone else, because he seemed pretty confused that your name was Luhan.”

Luhan palmed is forehead. He was never drinking again. Ever.

“Anyway,” Lay continued, “I pulled you off him eventually, but that’s right around the time Tao made a mad break for the bathroom to throw up everything he’d just drunk. I was really worried about him and I wanted to check on him. I made you swear Luhan, that you’d sit at our table and not move, then I went after Tao. When I came back you and that other guy were gone, but the bartender swore that the two of you left together and very willingly.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Luahn said.

“I’m sorry,” Lay said, sounding wrecked with guilt. “I should have known you wouldn’t be there when I came back.”

Luhan insisted, “It wasn’t your fault. And I’m okay.” At least he hoped he was okay. He still wasn’t sure what he’d do if he wasn’t.

“Lets not do that anymore,” Lay offered, looking for the first time like he’d been drinking the night before, with dark smudges under his eyes and a pale sheen to his skin.

“No more drinking,” Luhan agreed. “How’s Tao?”

Lay cracked his first smile. “Wailing about how he’s going to die,” Lay laughed, reminding Luhan that he and Tao shared the same dorm hall at the university. They both studied radically different subjects, but they’d ended up running to each other easily enough throughout the semester. A friendship had come of it years ago, carrying over now to their senior year.

Sometimes Luhan was certain that Lay was the kind of son his parents had always wanted. Lay was studying business and finance, and planed to go back to China right after graduation and attend graduate school. He was the dedicated and focused kind of student that parents always wanted, especially in sons. And as far as Luhan knew, Lay had a great relationship with his parents. Of course he also had an arranged marriage waiting for him back in China, and that was one think Luhan was not envious of.

“Serves him right,” Luhan teased. “Let him suffer.”

Lay gave him an odd look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Luhan gave him a reassuring look. There was no point in telling anyone what might have happened, and Xiumin could absolutely be trusted to keep his secrets. Lay was a worrier, and empathetic to a fault. Until the test results came back, there was nothing to be done at all. It was best to keep his mistake close to his chest, and wait the time out.

Three weeks later, long after Luhan had been officially issued an ultimatum by his parents, and he himself cut all communication with them, his test results came back clean.

“I’m healthy?” he asked, almost in disbelief. He’d spent what felt like forever preparing himself for the worst, thinking about what his life would be like if he had something that he couldn’t get rid of, and that might potentially kill him. “I didn’t get anything?”

“You did not contract any diseases,” Xiumin’s sister said with a laugh. “I think you can officially breathe easy. Of course you’ll need to schedule a follow up test with your local hospital, as there is always the chance of a false-negative, but for the moment, I think you’re in the clear.”

Luhan had been in the middle of his next piece of art when she’d called. He was covered in paint, his smock splotched with all kinds of colors, and he couldn’t have cared less as he collapsed on his sofa.

He wasn’t infected with HIV. He didn’t have syphilis or herpes or any other number of sexually transmitted diseases, and the relief was utterly palpable.

“You don’t have any idea how sick I’ve been making myself with the waiting,” Luhan told her. For the past few weeks, and in particular the last several days, he’d be ambling his way to and from class with an upset stomach. There hadn’t been an vomiting, but as the days passed and the time grew closer to when he’d learn his test results, he’d experienced worse and worse nausea.

With only a few more parting words, Luhan hung up the phone feeling much better. It was like more than a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It was more like his whole life had started anew again.

“Good news?” Kris asked from the corner of the living room. He’d been so quiet over there, scratching out a few mathematical equations on a spare sheet of paper that Luhan had forgotten he was there in the first place. But Kris was the kind of quiet guy that Luhan liked having around him. They could talk about everything or nothing, and it never felt awkward around them.

The only awkward part was that when Luhan had first come to Korea, he’d had an impossibly huge crush on Kris. Kris had rented him his first place off campus. He’d offered Luhan a job, friendship, and had even helped tutor him in his Korean when Luhan had learned that Kris’s family had Chinese roots.

Nothing had come from his crush, and eventually Luhan had outgrown it, but from it had come an amazing friendship that Luhan was relying on more and more.

“The best news.”

Setting his paper and pencil aside, and dumping his calculator with the items, Kris asked, “Your parents?”

Luhan rolled his eyes. “I doubt they’ll be calling me anytime soon. Not since I let them know that I’m not going to be what they want me to be. Didn’t I tell you they cut me off completely? I’ve got my savings, but there aren’t any more money wires coming anytime soon, probably not until I repent my evil artist ways and agree to study accounting, or something boring like that.”

Kris gave him a dirty look. “You ungrateful freeloader.”

Luhan had said it deliberately, taking a fun but harmless dig at Kris who’ was currently an accounting major. It was a subject that didn’t seem to suit the tall man, especially since he’d expressed absolutely zero interest in taking over his parent’s coffee shop. But then Luhan had seen weirder things, and who was he to judge.

“It’s not freeloading if I’m paying you rent,” Luhan reminded.

“It sounds like you won’t be paying for long.”

Luhan gave a solid nod, the reality of his situation weighing on him. “I guess this is where I get a job then.” It had been his plan, no matter how flimsy, to go to school, paint in his free time, and not work a day until he graduated and had to. But his savings would only cover his livings costs for so long, and getting a job in was inevitable now.

“You know you’ve got one at the shop. Stop acting like you don’t.”

Luhan never wanted to go back to China. He felt like of like he was betraying his country, but he’d grown to love Korea. He loved the food, the people, and he loved the life he had now. He wanted to stay in the country, work in the country, and eventually settle down on the country. If his luck continued to hold out, he’d never have to go crawling back to China, begging for his parent’s forgiveness, compromising to something that made him unhappy.

“When can I start?”

Kris’s reply was absolutely lost on Luhan as his world tilted suddenly to the left. His legs bowed out, he lost his balance and he went crashing to floor in an undignified heap.

“Luhan!” Kris shouted, lunging to his side.

“I’m okay,” Luhan said a bit breathless, taking stock of his body and finding nothing too damaged.

Kris asked in a pitched tone, “What the hell just happened?”

“I just got dizzy,” Luhan said, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “I’m okay.”

“Dizzy?” Kris echoed.

“It’s nothing,” Luhan tried to sound confident. But the truth was the dizziness had been creeping up on him like the nausea, making mornings particularly difficult, but nights had been too.

“Are you getting sick?”

“Maybe,” Luhan agreed, letting Kris help him to his feet. “I’ll take some more vitamin C and I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“I guess,” Kris said slowly. “Are you sure, though? You look really pale.”

Once more, Luhan decreed, “I’m fine.”

How could he not be fine? After all, his test had come back clean, he’d learned a valuable lesson that would likely stay with him for the rest of his life, and he was getting a fresh start by completely breaking away from his family.

Things could only be looking up for him.

And as far as Luhan could tell, things surely looked that way.

He put from his mind the night in late March where he’d let alcohol get the best of him, and even almost all of April that he’d spent worrying about the ramifications. May came around, which meant finals and endless nights spent trying to balance studying and a job that had become slightly more demanding than expected, then finally June, where he was a college graduate.

His work visa came through that very month and while he aimlessly job hunted, looking for anything that would allow him to put his artistic skills to use, he produced canvas sheet after canvas sheet of what he liked to call art, most of which ended up hanging in the coffee shop.

He even sold a few more pieces.

It was just something nagging in the back of his mind that was unsettling him.
The nausea had not let up. In fact, if anything, it had gotten worse. And with it had come headaches, body aches, sudden hot flashes, a lack of appetite followed by the urge to eat everything in sight, and countless other symptoms that were pointing him towards his greatest fear.

A false negative.

Xiumin’s sister had downright warned him that it was possible the tests had come back wrong. He’d submitted is blood work less than twenty-four hours after a possible infection, and a false negative was a real possibility.

So when he ended up taking a nosedive minutes before he was set to interview for a position that would at least get him out of a coffee shop with a dozen high school and college students, sending his resume and portfolio everywhere and thoroughly freaking out his potential employer, Luhan scheduled a doctor’s appointment.

When it happened, when his life changed irrevocably, he was sitting alone in a doctor’s cold office, wondering if maybe he could still get that job.

The doctor came in, gave him a brief once over, then said, “Your blood work has shown a significant amount of chorionic gonadotropin.”

Luhan said flatly, “I went to school for art. I don’t know what that means.”

This time the doctor seemed a bit more sympathetic, or at least a little more gentle as he asked, “When was the last time you were sexually active?”

His mind whirling, Luhan had blurted out, “Not for a long time.” He blushed right afterwards, clarifying, “I haven’t had time for a relationship of any kind, between graduating from college and job hunting. It’s been months.”

Not since March he thought almost frantically. March was when he’d stupidly stumbled home from the bar with a stranger. And it was almost June now.

“Did you use protection? To prevent an unexpected or unwanted pregnancy?”

Luhan’s lungs burned as he drew in sharp gasps of air. “No, but I used the morning after pill. I took it just in case.”

A knock sounded from the door and a young doctor let himself in, pulling with him a compact machine on a table with wheels.

“What’s going on?” Luhan asked, eyes darting between the men.

“We need to administer an ultrasound,” the doctor said carefully. “It’s my belief, in sixteen years of medical practice, that you’re pregnant. I think we need to verify.”

Numb and in shock, Luhan shook his head. “I took the pill. I took the morning after pill. I can’t be pregnant.” He certainly couldn’t be around three months pregnant.

“That pill,” the doctor said, motioning for the other doctor to pull the machine fully into the room, “is highly effective, but not completely so. Now, please lay back, and we’ll get to the bottom of us.”

Luhan saw his baby for the first time that day, mostly as a blob of white and black without much form, but it was his impossible and frankly unwanted baby. Floating there. In him. Ruining his life.

It took everything in him not to absolutely fall apart, and the rest of the week to try and decide what to do.

The only thing he could come up with, the only decision he could come to, was that before he made a move concerning the baby in him that was quickly growing and moving towards a second trimester, he had to let the other father know.

He had to find Sehun, whoever he was, and he had to do it quickly.

Chapter Text

At least a dozen different people had told Sehun that things would get better. They’d said that time would dull the pain. He hadn’t believed them.

But with the fade of March and the coming of April, it started to happen.

Sehun’s days were still cold and lonely, and the nursery still wrecked with angry destruction, but the pain in his heart started to lessen. Maybe he was just becoming numb to it all, but the urge to end it all and dare to hope that Jae and their baby were waiting for him in some kind of after life, became less and less of a compulsion.

And in April, when he should have been bringing a daughter home from the hospital, Sehun took a contract job in Kyoto and spent the next month and a half out of the country. It served as a decent distraction, and when he came back to Seoul he could stand in his house and not feel like he was drowning. He could deal with Suho’s nagging, and go out for drinks with Chen, and he could pretend to be a human being again.

He had, however, taken to sleeping in the guest room.

There was something impossible about the idea of curling up in a bed that he had slept in with the only man Sehun had given his heart to. He’d drift into the room every once in a while, glancing at Jae’s things that were still strewn about, and Sehun was quite guilty of lurking in their closet, smelling the clothes that still held Jae’s scent.

But things did get better.

Suho, however, didn’t stop hovering around him.

“I’m not going to swallow a bottle of pills,” Sehun told him frankly one night when Suho turned up without warning on his doorstep, a bag of burgers in one hand and a few bottles of soju in the other.

“Believe it or not,” Suho had said, “I actually think you mean that.”

Part of Sehun had quite believed that with the death of Jae, Suho might stop coming around. Suho and Sehun had never been particularly close, no matter that they were family through Jae and actually enjoyed each other’s company. They simply didn’t have much in common and it had always been a little understood that Jae was the glue between them.

Why would Suho want to come around now? To be reminded of his dead brother?

Yet Suho had been coming around. He’d been showing up every couple of days with food or movies. He’d been pestering Sehun, almost from the moment he’d returned from Japan, to hang out with him, go out with him, and try to be a functioning member of society again.

“You can start living again,” Suho had told him late one night, after they’d both had a little too much to drink and were seconds away from crashing on the sofa with the movie playing in front of them far from over. “It won’t be an insult to my brother.”

“I get up,” Sehun had responded, a little defensive, “I go to work. I don’t lock myself away in the house. I got out with you when you want me to. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A grimace to his face, Suho had countered, “And one day, when you’re ready, you can love again. That’s not an insult to Jae either.”

“You really want to talk about me being with someone else? Really, Suho?”

“When you’re ready,” Suho had only mumbled.

When May came around, Sehun had come to expect the smothering of his friends to continue, and honestly, he was a little impressed by their lingering effort. Suho was always lurking around, and Chen tried to occupy all the nights that the other did not. Chanyeol dominated their lunches, Kai tried his best to drag Sehun places on the weekend, and even Baekhyun was pitching in, dropping subtle hints about redecorating, remodeling or maybe some basic home improvement projects they could do together.

It was all a bit endearing, if not irritating.

Therefore, when the first weekend in June brought a sharp knock to the door, Sehun wasn’t a bit surprised. Maybe the only surprising part was that whoever was on the other side of the door had bothered to knock. Suho and Chen had keys, and the others knew his security code.

Jae had always been on him about changing the code, but Sehun had never fussed much about it. Now Sehun couldn’t bring himself to change the six digits that represented Jae’s birthday, the only code that Sehun had ever wanted to use.

When he knocks kept coming, Sehun set down the tablet he’d been free sketching on, trying out a new color pallet for a work project. He got to his feet a little curious. Maybe it was a delivery. He’d been getting sympathy gifts from friends and family outside of Seoul for months still. Most of them were piled high in the den’s corner, unopened and unimportant to Sehun.

It wasn’t a uniformed delivery man that greeted Sehun when he opened the door. Instead it was a lithe, beautiful man that looked vaguely familiar. The man, whoever he was, had his arms crossed a bit nervously in front of him, and kept shifting his weight from foot to foot, almost like he wanted to be anywhere else.

“Yes?” Sehun asked, not exactly sure what was going on.

It was mildly disturbing a moment later when the man turned, seemingly working up some courage, and the sun caught the auburn sheen to his hair. With the man’s hair styled across his forehead and the long lashes of his eyes, he looked so much like Jae that Sehun had needed to look twice. They had the same complexion, the same almost unnatural roundness to the eyes, and even the same jaw line.

But this man’s eyes were a lighter shade of brown than Jae’s had been, and his hair was more whispy, where Jae’s had been a curly when it grew out. Jae had carried around laugh lines that were so attractive if only because it meant he was constantly smiling. And more than anything else, Jae had always stood confidently, and walked like he knew exactly where he was going and how to get there.

The differences more noticeable now when he peered closer.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” The man asked with a huff, his arms sliding down from his chest to his stomach, holding himself a bit more self-consciously.

“No,” Sehun released slowly, because he sort of did … a little. He didn’t remember anything signifigant, he meant that, but there was familiarity that he couldn’t place.

The man gave a huffy kind of laugh, the wry kind. “There was a lot of alcohol involved.”

Sehun leaned more heavily on his front door. It hit him. “That night. The bar.”

The man nodded. “I went home with you. You brought me here. We slept together.”

Sehun’s closest neighbor was at least a couple hundred feet away, a respectable distance for the limited space in Seoul, but it was so easy for the wind to carry their words. And the last thing Sehun wanted to do was have anyone know that he’d so callously disrespected his husband’s memory, on the day of his husband’s funeral.

No one could know about what the man had just said.

“What do you want?” Sehun asked a bit harshly, dropping his voice.

“We have to talk,” the man challenged back immediately. “If you want to talk about it out here, then that’s fine, but something tells me you don’t want that. So how about you let me in and I can be out of here in five minuets.”

Sehun sighed and stepped back, holding the door open. Whoever this man was, he was pushy, but also looked absolutely determined. It was kind of refreshing to Sehun, who had nothing but people around him who gave in all the time, afraid to hurt his seemingly sensitive feelings.

“In here,” Sehun said, leading the man through the foyer and into the den.

“This is fine,” the man said, stopping in the doorway, chin raised a bit defiantly.

Silence fell between them, Sehun unsure what was headed his way, only that it probably wasn’t good.

Finally, blessedly, the man asked, “How much do you remember from that night?”

Sehun had to answer honestly, “I remember ….” he remembered the funeral, unfortunately. He remembered sitting in the church, surrounded by crying people, unable to look away from the tiny coffin that his baby was in.

He also remembered Chen finding him, taking him to the bar, and then drinking.

“Not much.”

The man reiterated, “We slept together. We got a cab from the bar, were completely wasted, and we slept together. Here.”

Sehun felt the memory spark in him, and with it came the terrible remembrance of waking up in the morning to a cold bed, knowing that he’d shared the space with someone other than his husband.

“Why are you here?” Sehun demanded, finding the man in front of him hostile and unwanted. “I don’t understand why you’re here, telling me this. Reminding me.”

The man all but spat out, “We didn’t use protection.”

Sehun had to admit, the actual act of sleeping with the attractive but volatile man in front of him, was completely gone from his memory. There were a few glimpses of hastily stolen kisses, and bodies sliding together, but Sehun mostly remembered the bar, and then waking up in the morning.

“And,” the man continued on, “I spent the next three weeks terrified out of my mind that you’d given me something.”

Anger surged through Sehun. “I don’t have anything!”

“How was I supposed to know that?” the man threw back, eyes even wider as he got worked up. “Even if I’d asked you, it’s stupid to just take someone on their word about that. I had to get tested. I had to make sure. And yes, everything came back clean, but that’s not the point. The point is, we should have been more careful. We should have used protection or we shouldn’t have slept together if we were too wasted to remember it.”

Sehun wondered, “So you came all the way down here, three months later, to lecture me on safe sex practices?”

For the first time the man’s shoulders sunk, and he looked less confrontational and more worried. “No, I came down here because I have an elevated level of protein in my urine, and hCG in my blood. That means I’m pregnant.”

There was something wrong. Sehun couldn’t … he absolutely couldn’t understand what the man was saying.

“I’m pregnant now,” the man repeated, and finally his arms fell away from his stomach. “I’m almost into my second trimester. Just about a week away. I just found out, too, so it’s not like I was hiding it from you, or anything. I thought the dizziness and the nausea and all the other symptoms were me just being worried over school and then job hunting. I only just went to the doctor.”

His limbs felt numb. That was absolutely the best way for Sehun to describe what he was feeling. His fingers were tingling, he couldn’t move his toes at all and his heart was beating so hard his chest it was aching. The pulse of his heart was traveling to the other parts of his body, thundering like he’d just run a mile, and the piercing pain in his head might possibly be an aneurysm. Sehun thought it was a real possibly he was experiencing an aneurysm.

The words that came out of his mouth, the words that indicated a disconnect between his mouth and his brain, were, “You got pregnant? Why?”

“I didn’t get pregnant on purpose!” the man shouted back, eyes narrowing. “I’m twenty-two. How could I want to be a father this young? You asshole!”

“What am I supposed to think!” Sehun shouted back. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t possible.

The man took a dangerous step towards Sehun. “When I was busy being terrified that you’d given me HIV, I took the morning after pill! I tried to prevent this pregnancy the second that I thought it was possible. The pill has a 98% success rate!”

“You are not pregnant,” Sehun said, unsure when his angry words had dissolved into a whisper.

“I am,” the man threw quickly back at him. “I’m almost eleven weeks along. And I came down here because I wanted to talk to you about our options. I think we need to. I need to know what you want. I’m going to … I’m keeping it. I don’t want to be a father this young, but it’s not the baby’s fault I was stupid. I’m keeping it and I’m raising it. I need to know what you want to do. Do you want to be in this baby’s life? Do you want anything at all?”

It wasn’t his. It wasn’t his baby. It couldn’t be. Sehun refused to accept that possibility.

Body shaking, Sehun asked, “How am I supposed to even know if it’s mine?”

There was a flash of confusion on the man’s face and as terrible as Sehun felt--he was still fearful that his brain was bleeding at the moment--there was guilt that came with the accusation.

“Of course it’s yours!” the man shouted back, looking like a beautiful, wrathful god. “You’re the only person I slept with this year!”

“I don’t know it’s mine,” Sehun argued back, trying to clumsily put distance between himself and the man. “It isn’t mine!”

His baby was dead. His baby was the little girl that he and Jae had created out of love, and wanted, and been prepared for. His little girl was the only baby he had, and she was gone and underground and nothing but a distant wanting. His child was a lingering memory, not something growing in the man in front of him.

And god, how he could he accept anything else? To admit to whoever this man was, that he could be the father, meant that he’d have to accept responsibility for the disrespect to his husband. He’d have to recognize that he’d had the gall and idiocy to sleep with an absolute stranger on the day that he buried his family.

He couldn’t do that.

He wouldn’t.

The man snapped, “I didn’t know you were married at the time. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? I didn’t know you were married and I wouldn’t have slept with you if I knew. So I’m sorry that you’re worried how your wife or husband is going to react to this, but this is on you, too! We both have to take accountability.”

His vision going red at the edges, Sehun shouted back, “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

What would Jae think of him? What would Jae think about the fact that he’d been unfaithful on the day of his funeral? How would Jae react to knowing that if their baby had lived, there’d be a sibling for her roughly a year apart in age?

Jae would be devastated and so hurt.

Sehun would have hurt him.

“You have to leave,” Sehun said, feeling frantic.

“Are you serious?” the man asked, turning to the side to drag a hand through his hair.

As he moved, Sehun couldn’t help staring at his stomach. It wasn’t easy to tell if the man’s shirt was simply wrinkling or if there was a swell there.

Sehun repeated, “That is not my baby and you have to go now.”

How could he have done this? How could he have created a child with a stranger when his husband’s body, not to mention his daughter’s, had barely been cold for a short while. How could he have acted so foolishly?

“Fine,” the man said finally, turning on heel and rushing away, his form nothing but a blur.

Sehun dashed after him, catching the door that had been flung open, using it as a support.

“This is your baby!” the man shouted angrily from the front doorstep, throwing loathing and disgust at Sehun. “You slept with me. You created it. It’s your responsibility, too. If you want to own up to that and be a man, come find me. If not, I hope you have a great life and you think twice about cheating on your husband or wife again with the first person who has a little bit too much to drink. Use protection!”

Words caught in his throat and there was nothing he thought he could say in response.

“Here!” Sehun watched the man reach into his back pocket and pull out a picture of some kind. “You can keep this, asshole. Or throw it out if that’s what you want. Whatever.”

The man let go of his grip on the photo and it drifted to the ground.

Sehun realized all of the sudden he didn’t even know the man’s name.

He disappeared around the corner like a dark cloud leaving, and Sehun sunk slowly to the ground. His legs boneless and useless underneath him, he struggled to breathe.

That wasn’t his baby, he told himself time and time again. He didn’t know how many other people that man had slept with. He didn’t know if that man was trying to pin something on him. He didn’t know anything.

Sehun felt like a terrible person.

He sat there in the foyer with the door open, struggling to breathe, for a good half hour. He kept expecting, for some reason, for the man to come back around. He expected the man to be ready for round two, and tell him how much of an asshole he was being and how he was being disrespectful and horrible and shameful. But the man didn’t come back.

When Sehun managed to get back to his feet he rushed, legs threatening to keep bowing out, to the stairs and took them three at a time. Thighs burning from the exertion he threw open the nursery door and felt his eyes assaulted once more by the yellow.

“This,” he huffed out, choking on the words more than anything else, “is mine.”

This was his child’s room. This was his daughter’s.

There was no other child.

There was only this empty, yellow room.

He sat there in the nursery that night, in the dark, for the first time since he’d trashed the room on the day of his daughter’s funeral.

What had he done? How could he fix it?

Morning came, sunlight abrasive through a window that now longer was covered by white and yellow curtains. And still Sehun sat there, ignoring that he was now late for work, oblivious to his phone ringing.

“Sehun!”

A loud, almost desperate voice cut through the house when the clock on the far wall said it was almost nine.

Suho.

Feet sounded on the stairs as Suho came up to the second floor, and then Sehun could hear him moving down the hallway, heading towards the bedroom that he had no idea Sehun couldn’t bring himself to sleep in.

“Shit,” Suho said, skidding to a stop as he likely caught sight of Sehun out of the corner of his eye, huddled in a destroyed room, blinking wearily and sleepily. “Sehun.”

“Suho,” Sehun greeted, feeling oddly like he was losing control of his body.

“You didn’t go to work,” Suho said, kneeling down next to him and pressed the back of his hand against Sehun’s forehead. “Chanyeol called me in a panic. He thought …”

All of his friends, Suho included, had joked around, albeit uneasily, about how little they thought he was suicidal anymore. The let him stay alone in his house, they trusted him to be okay, and they didn’t pressure him about how isolated he could be. But it seemed now like it was all a ruse. Of course they still worried that he was going to kill himself. And all it had taken was one missed day of work to prove it.

“What’s wrong?” Suho asked, trying to get him up to his feet. “Are you sick? What are you doing in here?”

“Suho,” Sehun repeated, gripping the nearby crib and then standing. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Sehun,” Suho said, gripping his chin firmly. “Did you take something?”

Sehun pulled away, pushing at Suho’s hands. “No. I …”

How was he going to explain to Suho, who’s brother Sehun had loved so dearly, that there was a man who’d come the day before to tell Sehun that there was a baby growing in him that they had created together? How was Sehun going to survive telling Suho something like that?

“You tell me right now,” Suho persisted, shaking him a little. “Did you take anything? Anything at all.”

“I didn’t,” Sehun said, veering away from him to lean over the crib. Dejected and almost defeated, Sehun felt his eyes start to burn.

Was he going to cry?

That was one more impossible thing. He hadn’t cried when he’d heard that Jae and the baby were dead. He hadn’t cried during the funeral. He hadn’t even let himself cry afterwards when all his days and nights were spent alone with only taunting memories for company. So why was he so near tears now?

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Suho said, moving to his side. “Sehun, we’re family.”

“Are we?” Sehun asked, unsure. “Jae’s gone. Are we still family?”

The slap the back of his head, not painful but still firm, was unexpected.

“Of course we are,” Suho said, sounding upset. “Are you serious? We didn’t stop being family just because Jae passed away. Is that what you thought?”

“I don’t know,” Sehun confessed.

Suho took him by the hand then and led him from the nursery. They went down the stairs and directly to the kitchen where Suho sat Sehun at one of the barstools and put a glass of water in front of him.

Sehun drank half the contents, and when he put the glass back on the bar top, it was then that Suho said, “You are my brother, Sehun, regardless of the fact that Jae is up in heaven now. Do you really think if I didn’t consider you my brother I wouldn’t be over here all the time, dealing with your self deprecating ass? I don’t try to get you to come over and see my mom just because I think I have to. I don’t try to cheer you up and make you realize how much life is worth living for any other reason than you’re important to me. You’re an ass sometimes, Sehun, but you’re family. So now you can sit there and tell me what’s happened.”

The earnest and hopeful look on Suho’s face was even more convincing than the words that had just come from him.

And Sehun trusted him. That was what it came down to. Sehun absolutely trusted Suho.

Suho was family.

“The night of the funeral,” Sehun finally said, still wondering if he was making a mistake, “Chen took me out drinking.”

Suho gave a nod. “He sent out a mass text to most of your friends letting them know you were okay. It’s not lost on me, however, that you need a better drinking friend. His girlfriend received a call from the bartender a few hours after that asking her to come pick him up. He’d passed out and no one could get him up.”

Sehun risked the tiniest of smiles. Chen was getting better at drinking, but he still wasn’t that good.

But here it was. This was the moment.

“I slept with someone that night, Suho.”

The silence that came from Suho was terrible.

Sehun added, “I drank so much I could hardly remember what my name was.” He’d been drinking to try and forget Jae’s. “And I saw this man who looked like Jae and I just … I made a mistake. I brought him here and I slept with him and I can’t believe it did it.”

Suho gave a loud sigh. “I know you did.”

Wait … what?

“How?” Sehun demanded.

“I was coming over the next morning to bring you groceries,” Suho said, leaning his elbow up on the countertop. “I was coming in as he was going out. And you’re right. He looks an awful lot like Jae.”

“You knew,” Sehun said, more in disbelief than anything else.

“I did,” Suho nodded. “And maybe I should have been upset. After all, my brother had only been dead a couple of days at that point.”

“How could I have done that to him?”

Suho scoffed. “Come on, Sehun, you didn’t try to hurt Jae on purpose, and it’s pretty hard to hurt someone who’s dead at that.” Sehun glared, but Suho seemed to ignore him, saying instead, “I admit that it was a shock for me to see that you’d slept with someone on the night of your husband’s funeral, but the more I thought about it, the more I understood. You know, we all talk about understanding how much pain you’re in. We all pretend that we can empathize, when really as we can do is sympathize.”

Sehun shrugged a little. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Suho clarified, “that when a person is in so much pain that they’re considering drastic alternatives to living, they do reckless, thoughtless things. You were in that kind of pain. You were hurting so bad from Jae’s death you were drinking, I suspect, to numb the pain. You slept with that man because you were drunk and in pain and because he looks like Jae. And you’re crazy if you don’t think for a second that Jae would want you to do whatever it takes to not hurt so badly.”

“I cheated.”

“Jae’s dead.”

Sehun’s head snapped towards Suho who was less somber than expected.

“How can you just--”

Suho said, “I would give anything, literally anything to have my baby brother back. I would give or do anything. But he’s gone. He’s gone and we’re not. Sehun, it’s not cheating and it’s not betraying to continue to have a life. You can’t cheat on someone who isn’t alive, who in the eyes of the law you aren’t married to anymore. You aren’t betraying him by taking comfort in the arms of someone else.”

“You really think that?” Sehun asked.

“I think you’re human, Sehun, and your natural urge is to blame yourself in defense of the man you are still desperately in love with. But from an outsider’s perspective, and one that I at least hope has some validity, I’m telling you that you should not be ashamed that you got drunk on the night you buried your husband and daughter, and slept with someone who made you forget about that for just a second. I’m okay with you moving on, Jae would be, too. Why can’t you?”

“Because,” Sehun said, hands gripping the water glass tightly. “That guy was here.”

“What guy? The guy from the bar?”

Sehun nodded. “He came. He was here yesterday. He wanted to tell me that we were stupid for not using protection, and now there are consequences to it.”

Carefully, Suho asked, “What kind?’

“The kind that you get nine months to reflect on.”

Sehun saw the recognition on Suho’s face the moment it dawned.

“Are you … is he … sure?”

Sehun remembered the photo.

Without warning Suho, Sehun took off, leaving the kitchen and heading towards the front door. He threw it open and stepped out into the warm June morning, shielding his eyes from the bright sun.

“Sehun?”

“There was something,” Sehun said distracted. “I saw him leave something.”

It had been windy the day before, even if wasn’t now, and Sehun was starting to fear that such a small lightweight item had been carried off by the wind.

He took another step down and away from the house, eyes searching, now desperate to find the thing that he had wanted no part of the day before.

“There!”

It was caught on the fence that divided Sehun’s house from the one next to it. Sehun raced towards it, uninterested in the fact that his socked feet were being ruined by the grass he was trudging over.

“What is it?” Suho asked from behind him, taking everything in stride, and much more calmly than Sehun would have expected.

“It’s …”

Sehun held up the picture, his stomach bottoming out.

It was an ultrasound picture.

Sehun knew the familiar black and white picture for what it was instantly, having carried around one from the very moment, all those months ago, that he and Jae had gotten confirmation of a pregnancy at the hospital. Sehun had gotten a copy of a picture, their baby no more than the size of a walnut at the time, and never let it go. As the months had passes more and more pictures had been added to the collection, but that first picture had never gone anywhere.

Just before he’d died Jae had made them a scrap book, something he insisted was a baby book, in which all the pictures of their ultrasound visits were displayed, each one marking growth and development.

The only picture missing was the one for month nine, right before the baby was born.

“That guy brought you this?” Suho asked, gently tugging it out of his hand.

That was … his baby?

“Oh, damn,” Suho said with a sigh.

Sehun looked down at the picture. The blob that was his baby, if the man was to be believed, looked right on track with the three, almost four months he’d claimed.

“Sehun?”

Sehun took a solid step away from the picture. “I can’t.”

“If this is your baby,” Suho said, eyes bearing hard into Sehun’s form, “you’re going to have to face it.”

“I can’t,” Sehun ground out again.

He just lost a baby. He just lost one that he had loved and cherished and would have died for. He lost his daughter, someone who was half of him and half of Jae, and who was going to be the most perfect, beautiful person on the planet. He’d lost his baby, and he couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t try again. He couldn’t.

“So what then?” Suho asked, still holding the picture.

“I …”

“You just walk away?” Suho pressed. “You just let this guy go off and raise your kid all on his own, and you become one of those deadbeat dads that I never thought you could possibly be?”

“You don’t understand,” Sehun said, almost angry that Suho was confronting him. “You are asking me to … to be a father. You are asking me to …”

To love again?

No. He wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t putting himself out there ever again. He was not going to have a baby that he loved and was responsible for, not when they were so tiny and fragile and so damn easy to lose.

He wasn’t.

“I’m not doing this,” Sehun said, heading back for the house. “You can look at me like that, and judge me all you want. You can try to lecture me. You can try whatever you want, Suho, but I am not going to be a father to that baby. It is not my baby.”

Suho, much to Sehun’s surprise, didn’t follow him back to the house. He let Sehun be, in the way that Suho usually didn’t.

So by himself, trying to put the man and the baby and the picture from his mind, Sehun took a long, searing hot shower. He scrubbed his skin until it was pink and almost raw, grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and ambled his way to his office.

His boss was more understanding that he probably should have been when he talked to him, and so was Chanyeol, who was the second call that Sehun made.

Then he put his arms on his desk and hid his face in them.

He was a coward. He was an utter coward, too afraid to get hurt again, and too unwilling to take a chance.

No matter what Suho said, he felt like he’d betrayed his husband, and he felt like he’d taken something away from how special his daughter was. It was him. It was his fault. It was his inability to keep his pants on and himself in check. And now he was going about hurting people who had no business being hurt by him.

On the corner of his desk there was a picture in a silver frame, something that had been occupying the space for only a short while. In fact it had been a gift from Jae mere days before he’d died. It was all Sehun could see now as if his vision was tunneling and nothing else mattered.

The picture in the frame was simple, depicting himself and Jae and the latest picture of their baby via sonogram, the tiny photo held proudly between them.

Jae had said, handing it over to him with a grin, “You spend hours locked away in your office sometimes, working very hard and doing what you do better than anyone else in this city. I think you should have this, to remind you of what’s even more important than your work.”

Sehun had grinned back at him, asking, “Did you make yourself a copy?”

Jae had laughed, then reminded, “I get to spend my day surrounded by kids. I’m reminded every second of what’s important. This is your reminder.”

The reminder remained now, but more out of Sehun’s forgetfulness than his want to look at it.

The click of the answering machine in his office startled him. He hadn’t even heard the phone ringing. Most of the calls he took came through his cell, but it was probably another message left by one more family friends finally hearing about Jae’s death. For the first few weeks after the funeral Sehun had been deleting them off the machine by the dozens. They were slower coming in now, but still happened once in a while.

“Sehun,” Suho’s voice sounded after the beep. “I don’t think you want to see me right now, and I didn’t think you’d pick up the phone if you knew it was me. So I’m leaving this message here, and you’ll at least have to listen to some of it before you delete it.’

Sehun held perfectly still.

“I think you’re making a mistake,” Suho said, words rushed. “I think that losing Jae and your daughter absolutely broke you, and I think that you’re scared. I wonder if you aren’t trying to punish yourself through some kind of survivor’s guilt. Sehun, Jae is gone but you’re still here You’re alive, and you have to keep on going. Maybe this thing that’s happened isn’t good for you. Maybe you shouldn’t get involved until you figure yourself out a little bit more. But don’t for a second think that you aren’t deserving of having a family. Please think about this before committing yourself one way or another. I don’t think Jae would ever forgive me if I didn’t try to help you, or you if you don’t try to help yourself.”

When the message ended Sehun was even less sure than before.

But still his heart ached, and still he felt like an adulterer, and still he couldn’t bring himself to accept the risk of having a child again.

He was a coward, an absolute coward, and he was not going to be someone father. Never again.

Chapter Text

It could have gone better. That was the foremost thought in Luhan’s mind days after his meeting with Sehun. It could have gone much better. He could have been more patient. He should have been less confrontational. There should have been more communication, less accusations, and the kind of behavior expected from a person who was about to become a father.

More than anything, Luhan was disappointed in himself.

But something good, at the very least, had come from the confrontation.

Before he’d worked up the courage to go and see Sehun, and before he said what needed to be said, regardless of how little tact he’d probably used, Luhan had been completely uncertain about the baby he carried. He was keeping it, that much he’d determined within hours of finding out about it. Getting rid of it, or giving it up …those were two options that made him feel absolutely sick to his stomach. Raising a baby wasn’t going to be easy, and there went most of his plans to have fun before he got too old, but he was already feeling a warmth and love in his heart for the little person who would look like him.

He was going to do his best, too. He was going to work hard, provide for his baby, surround it with love and comfort and security, and make sure that even if it was the two of them, two was enough.

Going to see Sehun had made him feel stronger than ever, capable, and determined. He didn’t need Sehun in his life to be a good father. He didn’t need support or money or anything from Sehun.

The only regret he now harbored, lurking darkly in the back of his mind, was that one day his baby was going to grow up. And then he or she would start asking questions. And Luhan would have to explain how that baby had been conceived, and how its other father hadn’t wanted anything to do with either of them.

“I will go over there right now and murder him.”

Luhan’s gaze panned away from the ultrasound picture he had tacked up on his refrigerator and over to Tao who was burning a hole in his carpet with his pacing.

“Calm down, Rambo,” Kris announced from the sofa.

Tao turned a dark gaze on him. “Are you serious? This asshole gets our friend pregnant, then won’t take responsibility. And you want me to calm down?”

It was Lay, who’d thus far been silent near Xiumin, all of Luhan’s closest friends gathered around to hear how it had gone down at Sehun’s house, who offered, “It’s a heavy thing to hear, Tao. Not everyone is ready to accept the responsibility of fatherhood immediately.”

That was something to consider, Luhan supposed. He had sort of sprung the news on Sehun harshly, and then all but demanded accountability from him. He didn’t think that excused Sehun’s behavior, but it did make him a little more understandable.

“Right,” Kris said, tugging Tao down from where he’d been pacing. “That’s why if we’re going to go murder this asshole, we’re not going to go do it in broad daylight. It’ll be at night, and we’ll need a plan first.”

The fact that Luhan couldn’t quite tell if Kris was joking or not was something of an interesting nature, but it made him smile a bit nonetheless at his friend’s reaction.

“No one is murdering the father of my child, please.”

“Then what are we planning on doing?” Xiumin asked, casting him a waiting look.

The we was not lost on Luhan.

“Nothing,” he said finally, letting out a breath of air. “You can’t make someone be a father. You can’t make them want something like that. And I wouldn’t want to force him anyway. I told you guys, he’s married. He’s probably got a family already. I’m not going to mess that up for them, regardless of what I feel for him.”

Tao’s head cocked. “You have feelings for him?”

Luhan glared. “Not like that. I mean, sure, he’s really good looking, the beer wasn’t making me hallucinate that, but he’s the father of my child. I’m not in love with him. I’m not even in lust with him anymore. I have complicated feelings for him, but certainly not romantic ones.”

Luhan had honestly thought that when he sat his four closest friends down, three of whom were some of the only people in Korea that he could talk about China with, and one who was the only person Luhan trusted emphatically in the world, that there might be a bit of judgment. After all, hadn’t he just become a statistic of some kind? But they’d rallied around him from the second the news of his pregnancy had come out, and it had been heavily implied that the four of them were more than willing to make up for any deficiencies that might be created from Luhan’s child not having a second parental figure.

“I just want to move past this,” Luhan said, trying to control the urge to feel his stomach up.

Before the bomb had been dropped on him, his pants had begun fitting a little snuggly, but only just, and he’d always worn pretty form fitting clothing anyway. He’d simply thought that staying indoors, spending most of his time studying for his finals, and eating junk food of all sorts, was catching up with him. But since learning of his baby’s existence, he’d started to notice that he was rounding out even more fully as the days passed. He was tall and thin which meant he was going to show like a massive blimp before long, but for now he could still hide it. That didn’t meant he wasn’t aware of his bump every second of every day.

“You want to just forget about the fact that some guy is not going to take, at the very least, financial responsibility of his own kid?” Kris asked skeptically.

Luhan shrugged. “Like I said, you can’t make someone be a father, and I don’t want or need his money. You guys, why should I want someone who doesn’t want me? Why should my baby want someone who doesn’t want him or her?”

Tao grumbled, “I still say we drive right over there and destroy him.”

“I’ve got to go,” Xiumin announced, struggling his way up from Luhan’s incredibly comfortable sofa. “Luhan, remember what we talked about? My sister’s deal?”

Luhan flashed him a thumbs up.

“I’ll talk to you guys later,” Xiumin said, stepping over Tai who was stretched out across the carpet now, kicking dejectedly at Kris who was only ignoring his pouting. “Text me if we decide to commit a felony. I’ve got the getaway car.”

“I should go too,” Lay said, making sure to squeeze Luhan’s shoulder.

“I just don’t get how you can be so calm,” Tao said, sticking his arms into his university shirt and looking every bit the kid he still kind of was. “Luhan, this sucks. This sucks a lot and you don’t deserve it.”

Of all his friends, and Luhan had many more that he considered precious to him outside the four that he was the closest with, Tao was probably the only one that had prepared him at least a little, for his impending fatherhood. Tao was the youngest of them all, petulant and needy, and while he could also be charming and caring, he too quite a bit of work to handle. Dealing with Tao made Luhan think that he could handle a baby.

Luhan asked him, “Don’t you have a summer class to get to?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tao rolled up to his feet, hands on his hips. “I do.”

Kris gave him one last nudge. “Then get going, slacker.”

Tao gifted him with a very rude, and not at all respectful of their age difference gesture, then high tailed it towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “I still think we should go with the murder route! My uncle has some land out in Incheon. It’s the perfect spot!”

Luhan lurched his way up to his feet and trekked over to the apartment’s small kitchen. The smell of coffee from the shop under him was wafting up, reminding him rather ostentatiously that he was currently and severely greatly reduced in his allowed caffeine intake.

“You can hang around for a while, if you want,” Luhan told Kris, getting to work on the dishes he’d set out earlier to dry. The best part of living away from his parents, Luhan had deduced long ago, was that he’d become very self sufficient. He could do dishes now, laundry, keep his apartment clean, and all of the things that his mother would have insisted on doing for him. It was kind of liberating, to know he was already able to do all of the household things young men didn’t learn until much later in life.

“Nah,” Kris said, though he didn’t look like he was making an effort to get up. “I have to go into the office today.”

Luhan made a face at him. “It’s Saturday.”

“I know.” Kris made the face back at him. “But there’s one last thing I want to talk to you about.”

“Okay.” Luhan paused, leaning forward on the counter a little, giving Kris his whole attention. “But this isn’t going to be a lecture of some kind, right? Or an attempted handout due in part to the extra passenger I’m lugging around? Xiumin’s sister got me hired by the hospital to finish up the mural in the children’s ward starting next week. It’s going to take me a couple of months to get everything planned out and then painted. The boost in money means I won’t be your charity case.”

Kris didn’t seem offended in the least as he reminded Luhan, “You work hard and you don’t mess around, that means you’ve never been a charity case. But no, this isn’t my repeated offer to make you assistant manager, even though everyone knows the customers like you best, and you know your way around the coffee shop better than the actual manager.”

Curiosity piqued, Luhan asked, “Then what’s this about?”

Kris put his feet flatly down on the ground, back straight, and looked a million times different from the carefree slouching man he’d been moments earlier.

“You need to look into some legal action concerning your pregnancy.”

“What?” Luhan, unable to help his kneejerk reaction. “Why?”

“Why?” Kris echoed. “Obviously because we’re talking about the fact that you’re about to have a baby, and if this Sehun guy wanted to complicate things, he could do it very quickly and very effortlessly.”

Luhan forced a laugh, but there was a hint of anxiety that had been sparked in him. “You’ve been working around lawyers for too long.”

When they’d been in school together, mere months ago when Luhan really thought about it, Kris had been an accounting major. Luhan had suspected that he’d go on to be a number crunching human calculator, spending five days a week in a cubical, looking twice his age far before his time. But instead Kris had been picked up by a premier law firm, was working his way towards becoming a paralegal, and was less boring now than Luhan had dared to hope for. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Kris spent his days now surrounded by soul sucking prosecutors who could smell guilt from a mile away.

Kris fit in effortlessly among them in a scary kind of way.

“Luhan,” Kris said, voice tight. “If this guy says he doesn’t want to be any part of your kid’s life, you have to get it down in writing. You have to make sure it’s airtight.”

“You can’t be serious.” Luhan headed quickly over to him, dishes completely forgotten.

“I am.” Kris asked him, “So what if this guy decides he doesn’t want kids right now, but he changes his mind a year from now? What if you have to deal with him showing up on your doorstep, asking for his kid, and you didn’t make sure he couldn’t?”

Luhan looked down now, at his mostly flat stomach, to his baby who was the size of the walnut and months away from having fingers and toes. He wouldn’t know his baby’s gender for a while still, and couldn’t begin thinking of names until then. How could he imagine what it would be like in a year.

But more importantly, Luhan told Kris, “You seem to be forgetting that no matter how poorly Sehun took the news, this is his baby too. I would never try to stop him from seeing the baby, or being a father to it. That’s not right.”

Kris reached out, and with a gentle poke to Luhan’s stomach said, “Imagine he shows up on your doorstep one morning and he’s got a letter from a judge saying that he’ll see you in court. And when you show up, his lawyer argues that he’s going to be a more fit parent then you are, and guess what, the judge believes him for whatever reason. I want you to picture that moment when you have to hand over either full or partial custody of this baby to Sehun, not knowing what kind of person he is, and without it mattering how much you love this baby and instinctively want to protect it.”

Luhan sat heavily next to Kris. “You think he might try and take my baby.”

“I don’t know,” Kris said with an even tone, “because I don’t know Sehun, and neither do you. And when we don’t know what people are capable of, that’s the scary part.”

Feeling dizzy, Luhan slumped down against the cushions, fingers splayed out across his stomach. “I can’t even think about that. Oh, god.”

“I think,” Kris said, one hand on his knee, “you should come down to the office on Monday. One of the lawyers is a pretty good friend of mine. He can advise you on what you should do, but what I think he’s going to tell you to do is get this Sehun guy to sign over his parental rights to you. That’ll make it so he can never show up one day, out of the blue, and want custody or visitation rights.”

“Give up his parental rights?” Luhan asked, absolutely shocked at he mere idea. A man not wanting anything to do with his child was unfortunately, not that uncommon. But to sign over everything that legally tied a person to their child? “I don’t think he’ll do it.”

Kris asked, “Why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t want anything to do with you, or that baby, and you said he already has a spouse, maybe even a family. You should, if you do this, tell him that if he signs the paper, he’ll never have to see you again, but more importantly, you won’t seek any kind of monetary aid from him.”

“This is crazy,” Luhan eased out.

“No, it’s safe.”

Luhan met his gaze. “I don’t know, Kris. This seems … drastic.”

After a moment of quietness, Kris said in a low voice, “I’ve been working at the firm for a few months, Luhan. Just a few. But in that time I’ve seen all of the worst sides of people. And I am telling you, it is the smart thing to do, to protect yourself and this baby. Luhan, at least promise me you’ll come down on Monday and listen to my friend. You don’t have to do anything right away.”

Legal action?

Luhan couldn’t imagine how trying to get Sehun to give up his parental rights would unfold, but neither did he want to think about the worst case scenario that Kris had posed.

Because he didn’t really know Sehun. He didn’t know anything about him, actually, other than what kind of underwear he wore. He knew nothing about Sehun’s temperament, his motives, or his possible ruthlessness. What if Kris was right? What if he didn’t protect himself and his baby, and something did happen a year from now?

If Luhan had to give up his baby, the tiny, precious little life in him that he was already so in love with, he’d die. He’d honestly rather die.

“I’m not going to let anyone take my baby from me,” he told Kris, and he’d do whatever it took to make that vow a reality.

With a loud exhale, Kris stood, telling Luhan, “I’m not trying to scare you. I just think you should be prepared.”

“I’ll come on Monday,” Luhan said, not moving to see Kris to the door. He wasn’t sure his feet could support him if he tried. “I’ll listen to your friend.”

“Good,” Kris said. “And jeeze, try to keep your blood pressure down. That’s my niece in there.”

Luhan threw a sofa pillow at him. “You’re the jerk who’s putting these thoughts into my mind. And hey, this could be a boy.”

“I hope it’s a girl,” Kris called back as he pulled open Luhan’s front door. “The last thing we need around here is more testosterone.”

Kris had been gone only mere seconds before Luhan was looking back down at his stomach, trying to imagine what his baby would look like, and trying to figure out if it was possible that he’d be even more protective of the baby once it was there, than he was already.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Luhan told the baby, rubbing a hand across his stomach as the indigestion he’d been feeling for days gnawed away at him. “I’ll do whatever it take to protect you.”

He supposed the meeting that he showed up for on Monday, wearing the only high collared shirt now that didn’t make him look like he was putting on weight, and slacks that were still roomy around his waist, was supposed to make him feel better. But listening to Kris’s friend explain to him how easily it would be for him to lose custody, only served to fray his nerves even further.

He went home with a packet full of legal paperwork and regretted for the first time that he’d said anything to Sehun at all. If he’d just kept his pregnancy to himself, and not gone looking for Sehun, he wouldn’t be laying awake at night, envisioning all the things that could go wrong.

To pass his time, and try to sooth his anxiety, Luhan threw himself into his new job. It was only temporary employment, and the pay was only slightly better than what he’d be making at the coffee shop, but as far as Luhan was concerned, getting to paint meant all the freedom in the world.

The hospital had given him mostly free reign to decorate the children’s ward and Luhan had settled on an aquatic theme, spending the first few weeks mapping out which fish would go where, which mammals to include, and how he was going to juggle being bombarded by absolutely adorable children, and getting his work done at the same time.

It was, by all accounts, a dream job.

It was also almost enough to make him forget that as his baby grew bigger, so did the looming cloud that was Sehun. Luhan hadn’t spoken to him again, not since their last parting, and though he’d finished going through the paperwork Kris’s lawyer friend had given him, he hadn’t filled any of it out. It was all pushed to the back of his mind as the days flew by, the paint went up on the walls, and Luhan’s artist praise was sung by a visiting doctor from a nearby hospital who was rumbling about how his own pediatrics ward was in need of a makeover.

“And my sister’s having a baby,” the man had also said, surprising Luhan with how forthcoming he was. “She and her husband have been arguing for days over which wallpaper to use. I think a hand painted nursery would be much better. Do you do that sort of thing as well?”

Luhan had sputtered for a bit, surprised at how easy it was to line yet another job up, and assured, “My doctor cleared me for paint fumes, as long as I use all of the protective gear, for several more months.”

The moment Lay had found out about the job offer he’d pointed Luhan directly to a friend of his who sat him down in front of a computer on his first free day and together they built a webpage for him, advertising his services. And like that he had a working business, and the hope that he’d be able to support his baby through something that was nothing short of a passion of his.

On top of that, as he moved along in his fourth month, the nausea that had tormented him thus far, started to pull back. Sometimes he could get through his whole morning meal without having to make a mad dash towards the bathroom. If that wasn’t a blessing, Luhan didn’t know what was.

What was not a blessing, however, was coming home to a man he recognized all too well waiting for him on the doorstep.

It wasn’t Sehun, and for that Luhan could be endlessly thankful, but it was the man he remembered to be Sehun’s brother-in-law. And if this wasn’t going to be a confrontation, Luhan didn’t know what else it could be.

“Luhan?” Xiumin asked, spying him before he got close enough to the man to say anything. Xiumin was in the back doorway to the coffee shop that connected to the stairs leading up to the apartments. There was a worried, apprehensive look on his face, but also the promise that he could spring into action if needed.

Xiumin was pretty much the most laid back and casual guy Luhan had ever seen. Xiumin was almost diplomatic to fault, even more than Lay who claimed to be a pacifist. But Luhan had seen Xiumin go at someone once, in particular someone who’d been harassing a friend of his. It had been pure savagery that Luhan had witnessed, and there was no doubt now in Luhan’s mind that Xiumin could take anyone in a match, save for probably a professional fighter of some kind.

If Sehun’s brother-in-law came at him in any way, Luhan knew he’d have Xiumin backing him up.

“Give me a second to figure out what he wants,” Luhan requested quietly as he brushed past Xiumin.

Xiumin gave him a silent nod, but didn’t tear his eyes away from the other man for a second.

His feet only dragging a bit, Luhan came up on the man and asked, “Is there something I can do for you?”

It was absolutely not lost on Luhan the way the man was eyeing his stomach. Of course Sehun would have told his brother-in-law. Maybe he’d even sent the man over here to make sure that Luhan kept his distance. If that was the case Luhan was going to pass him the legal paperwork for the parental rights there on the spot. And then he might even ask Xiumin to show the man out.

Or let Tao have at Sehun. Tao was a savage little monster when he fought, too. And the difference between Tao and Xiumin was that Tao liked picking fights all too much.

“I wanted talk to you, actually,” the man said, giving his name additionally as Suho and bowing respectfully to him. “If you have the time for me. I can come back if it’s not an appropriate time. I apologize for not calling in advance, but I didn’t have your number. It took some doing to get your address, actually. And your full name, for that matter.”

The man was … very respectful. And there wasn’t a hint of aggression from him. It was possible it was a ploy, but it honestly didn’t feel that way.

“Okay,” Luhan said finally, waving Xiumin off with a smile. “I’m up on the third floor. I hope you don’t mind climbing.”

Suho gave him a startled look and wondered, “Is it okay for you to be climbing stairs?”

A surprised smile made its way to Luhan’s face. There’d been honest concern in his voice. “I’m very healthy. Trust me, it’s fine.”

They climbed quickly, Luhan trying not to glance behind him as the door neared. And when they were inside the apartment Luhan bought himself some extra time by making drinks for both himself and Suho.

“Did you get the money I sent you?” Luhan asked, handing Suho a cup of icy, sweet tea.

“Sehun passed it along to me,” Suho confirmed, then sipped appreciatively at his tea. “You surprised me by returning the money.”

Luhan said, “Of course I returned the money to you. I said I would. But I only had that one address. I had to guess that you’d get the money if I had it delivered there.”

“I appreciate it all the same,” Suho said, then set his tea aside. “You have to be wondering why I’m here.”

“It’s driving me pretty crazy,” Luhan confessed, feeling at ease despite the stranger in his apartment. “Your brother-in-law … well … it didn’t go well the last time we spoke.”

“Sehun is,” Suho said with a sigh, “not himself right now.”

With a frown, Luhan said firmly, “I went to tell him about my pregnancy because I thought he deserved to know. I told him because this is his baby, too, and I didn’t know if he wanted to be a father. I didn’t want anything from him. Maybe he thought I wanted money. That’s not it at all. And I’m not trying to pressure him into being a father. He didn’t ask for this baby, not anymore than I did, at least. I just thought I’d be considerate.”

Suho’s features mellowed as he smiled at Luhan. “You’re very respectful, and very charming. I can see why Sehun was drawn to you. And I want to apologize for his behavior. Sehun is going through a horrible time in his life at the moment and it’s, to say the least, made him a different person.”

“I didn’t exactly break the news to him in the best way,” Luhan offered.

But Suho was having none of it, insisting, “Sehun’s temperamental right now. He’s walking a precarious line with himself, and I think he took his emotional instability out on you when you last spoke. I think you deserve a proper apology, and until he’s ready to give it to you, I’ll do it in his stead.”

More than a little impressed, Luhan said, “You care a lot for him, don’t you?”

Suho gave a smile nod. “He’s family.”

And there it was, the reminder that Sehun was married and Luhan was the proverbial home wrecker.

“I’m not trying to ruin Sehun’s life or marriage. That’s what I want you to know. I don’t want to do anything to disrupt it. I won’t be hanging around with a baby, demanding Sehun’s attention or money. That should never be a worry of yours.”

Worry lines creased on Suho’s forehead. “I’m not sure I--”

“In fact,” Luhan said, his own tea forgotten, “if Sehun has absolutely no interest in being a father to this baby, I--”

Suho interrupted this time, saying, “Sehun and fatherhood … that’s a dangerous association. But really, I think we’re having a miscommunication here.”

Luhan paused, halfway across the room already to get the paperwork Kris’s lawyer friend had given him. “What kind?”

Suho put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “You’re not … Sehun isn’t …” There was something dark spreading across Suho’s face, something painful in fact. He finally broke out with, “You’re not ruining any marriages.”

Not sure, Luhan asked, “But isn’t Sehun your brother-in-law?”

Suho gave a somber nod. “It’s just not what you think. Sehun was married to my little brother, Jaehyuk.”

“Was?” Luhan asked, heartbeat picking up.

“There was an … accident,” Suho said, fingers curling into the fabric at his knees. “My brother passed away. By the time you and Sehun created that baby in there, my brother was already buried.”

“Oh,” Luhan eased out, so conflicted to say much more. But then he had sense enough to offer, “I’m so sorry.”

Suho gave him an appreciative look. “Thank you. But like I said, there’s no marriage that you’re disrupting. Sehun is alone now, and maybe that’s really the root of the issue here. Sehun, at least I think, is wrecked with guilt that he’s alive and my brother, Jae, is gone. He’s getting better at passing through the days, but he’s not really feeling much anymore.”

His stomach churning with nausea, Luhan had to take a quick seat, leaning forward a little as it really kicked up.

“Are you okay?” Suho asked, looking like he wanted to dart to Luhan’s side. “Is it the baby?”

“It’s okay,” Luhan tried to reassure, taking a deep breath. “It’s just morning sickness.”

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

With a chuckle, Luhan said, “It’s just called that. It’s an all day thing, unfortunately. It has been getting better, though.” Luhan asked tentatively, “So when I sprung this baby news on Sehun, he was pretty much still hurting terribly?”

“More than you know,” Suho revealed. “My brother was pregnant when he died. He was nearly full term, too. Eight months.”

Luhan gripped his stomach instinctively. “The accident … he…”

Pale faced, Suho continued, “The doctors tried their absolute best to save Jae, and when they couldn’t, they tried to save the baby. But there was just too much blood loss and too much trauma and neither of them made it. Sehun … some of us, some of the family, we really thought he wasn’t going to make it either. He didn’t look like he was going to be able to keep going without them.”

His hormones ragging, Luhan felt his eyes tear up. He couldn’t imagine, couldn’t even begin to think about how horrific and devastating that kind of loss had to be for Sehun.

“He wanted that baby so much,” Suho said with a laugh. “Sehun’s never been very paternal, but that’s probably just because he’s the baby of his family. But once he found out he was going to have a baby--a daughter, he put his whole self into the idea of it. He and Jae did everything right, read all the books, took all the classes, and damnit if they weren’t so close when the accident happened.”

How had Sehun survived it? It was a question that Luhan could think of no answer to. How had Sehun dealt with not only losing the man he loved, but also his baby?

Suho cleared his throat. “Anyway, Sehun suffered unimaginable psychological trauma with their deaths. You getting pregnant must have done a number on him.”

“I …” Luhan regretted his actions so much. He regretted being brash and impatient and wanted to apologize until he was blue in the face. “I had no idea.”

“My point is,” Suho said, “Sehun probably couldn’t have taken the news well no matter how you told him, even if you let him know with extreme delicacy. I just don’t think he’s ready to face the idea of being a father again. I don’t think he’s ready to start feeling and living yet.”

“Of course.”

Suho took another drink from his tea. “I’m still hoping that he’ll get there, too. And I think you can help him.”

Luhan questioned, “You don’t think I’m just going to be a horrible reminder?”

Suho admitted, “Maybe at first, but you’re the kind of reality he needs to face. If he keeps seeing you, and is able to realize that not every pregnancy that he cares about ends in death, he might come around.”

Sipping at his own tea, Luhan asked, “So what do you want me to do? Show up on his doorstep every chance I get?”

“Not something so drastic,” Suho reasoned. “But maybe keep him up to date with the progress of the baby? Leave him more sonogram pictures? Every once in a while you could invite him along to a doctor’s appointment, or maybe even to some baby and me classes.”

“You think he’ll be interested in any of that?”

Suho, his calming presence helping to settle Luhan’s stomach, said, “I think he’ll be angry and refuse you and do whatever it takes to try and run you off. At least at first, is my hope. He just needs time, Luhan. I know it. We just have to keep trying. If you do right by Sehun, I’ll do right by you.”

Luhan pulled back slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean? I mean, no offense, but I’m the guy that your brother-in-law got pregnant. Probably not that long after your pregnant brother died, too.”

“You’d be surprised if I told you how quickly afterwards it happened.” Suho exhaled. “What I just meant is that if you keep trying with Sehun, I’ll be here for you. I’ll help you however I can, support you however you need, and you won’t have to worry about that baby wanting for anything.”

He didn’t need Kris’s handouts, and he certainly didn’t need Suho’s either.

“Listen here--”

Suho said sharply, “I know that you’re not Jae, and I know that your baby is not his. I know that there’s absolutely nothing tying us to each other, either. But that is Sehun’s son or daughter, and Sehun is my family. When Jae and Sehun got married I knew that Jae could handle keeping Sehun happy, but my brother isn’t here anymore, so now it’s my turn. This is just what family does … and I guess kind of in an odd way, this baby is my family, too.”

Face scrunching a little, Luhan asked, “You really feel that way? About my baby?”

Exasperated, Suho said, “I won’t lie to you, I’d much rather entertain the idea of Sehun having kids with my brother exclusively, but that’s really not an option anymore. But this is Sehun’s kid you’ve got in there. I love Sehun, so by extension, I love that baby. I’m going to help take care of it, if you let me. I’m not asking for anything I return because family just doesn’t do that sort of thing. Agree?”

Begrudgingly, Luhan agreed, “I guess you’re right.”

“So is everything okay in there?” Suho asked, gesturing to his stomach. “You’ve been taking care of yourself?”

It was a little awkward, but Luhan was already warming up to Suho. “Everything is going great,” he promised. “I just hit my fourth month not that long ago. In a couple of weeks I get to learn the gender.”

Suho had finished half of his tea by that point, and chatted happily, “I really hope it’s a boy, you know.”

Luhan offered, “Most of my friends want a girl, actually.” It took Luhan a moment more to realize why Suho hoped it was a boy. Of course he wanted it to be a boy. Sehun had been expecting a girl. Another girl would be … difficult.

“Here,” Suho said, reaching into his pocket. “This is my business card, but I wrote my personal line on the back.”

Luhan accepted he rectangular card and glanced over the information. “Impressive.” He recognized the business logo in the corner. He passed by the thirty story building in the heart of Seoul all the time.

Suho reminded, “The number is on the back. I want you to call me anytime. For anything. I mean it. My secretary already knows to put you through without issue.”

Luhan palmed the card. “Okay.”

Luhan walked him quickly to the door, but it wasn’t until Suho was in the hallway that he said, “Sehun is a pretty amazing guy. He’s driven and compassionate. He’s creative and intelligent and attentive. If you’d met him before my brother died, you’d think he was a completely different person. Now he goes to work and pretends he’s okay, then goes home to his empty house and just sits there, letting his guilt consume him. He wasn’t always like this Luhan, and I hope he won’t be like this forever.”

“Suho,” Luhan said, hand gripping the door handle, “I mentioned earlier about finding out the gender. The appointment is two weeks from now. The doctor thinks she may be able to see it by month five. I’ll ask Sehun if he wants to come with me.”

“Thank you,” Suho said, stepped back. “And hey, if he won’t go, which I suspect he won’t, you can call me. I’ll go.”

“Um…” Luhan was pretty sure he’d be bringing Xiumin or Lay with him if it came down to it, and certainly not Suho who was about to become a very confusing person in his life.

Suho laughed loudly, moving down a few stairs. “I’m just your backup, Luhan. You don’t have to call me. Just take care of that baby. Sehun can’t realize right now how much it matters to him, but someday he will. Protect it, please.”

Luhan shut the door after Suho and knew for a fact that he didn’t have to be asked to protect his baby.

“Well, baby,” he told his stomach, patting it gently, “here we go. Wish us luck.”

Something about Sehun told Luhan he really was going to need it.

Chapter Text

“I’m going to ask Eunji to marry me.”

Sehun’s attention snapped completely away from his phone, where he’d be monitoring a series of e-mails coming in from his boss, over to where Chen was frying up a piece of beef. His best friend was decidedly not making eye contact, obviously waiting for some kind of reaction from Sehun.

Chanyeol was across the restaurant, wrangling them a few drinks, and like always, Kai was running late. So for the moment, it was just Sehun and Chen, and one little sentence that felt like it was massively important.

“You guys haven’t been dating that long,” Sehun reasoned.

Chen snorted. “Two years, and we’ve been living together for nine months. Her parents were always anxious about that. And when I wake up next to her in the morning, I see the person I want there for the rest of my life. Yeah, I’m going to marry her.”

Sehun kept silent.

And then Chen laughed and added, “I mean, she’s the girl who was willing to come pick my drunk ass up at the bar the night of the funeral, and make sure I didn’t drown in my own vomit, and still look like a million dollars when she went to work the next morning after two hours of sleep, she must be a keeper.”

The bar. The night of the funeral.

Luhan.

He was thinking again of Luhan when he shouldn’t have been. But as Chen went on about his girlfriend, and why he thought marriage was a good idea, Sehun’s thoughts were completely occupied with Luhan.

From the night of the bar, Sehun just remembered lust. He remembered a pretty face, one that looked too much like Jae’s, slender hands, and soft skin. But from their second confrontation, the one that had left Sehun in pieces once more, he remembered a fire and a passion burning from Luhan that had been mesmerizing. Luhan, whoever he was, was absolutely breathtaking. His beauty aside, Sehun had been able to see in that moment all of his courage and his independence, not to mention his determination. Luhan had been so different from Jae in the moment they’d shared most recently, but just as appealing.

It pained Sehun to admit, even just to himself, how attracted he was to Luhan. It was a betrayal to his husband, who had only been dead a few months, to find himself sexually and romantically drawn to another man.

“I want you to be my best man.”

Sehun finally met Chen’s eyes. “Yeah?”

Chen rolled his eyes and popped a piece of hot beef into his mouth. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been my best friend for close to a decade now. Yes, I want you to be my best man.”

Across the restaurant the bell on the door jingled and Sehun raised a hand towards the sight of Kai entering.

“Congratulations, Chen.” Sehun gave him a genuine smile. “I’m happy for you.”

He was, and it certainly wasn’t a lie. Sehun genuinely liked that Chen’s girlfriend made him so happy. She made Chen smile more than any other girl he’d ever dated. If Chen was going to get married, Sehun was glad it was her. Not to mention she was pretty from ever picture he’d ever seen, his career and hers keeping their paths from actually crossing directly, if not comically. But she was brains and beauty all wrapped up into one impressive package. Sehun never would have guessed Chen would end up bagging himself a gorgeous pediatrician.

And even if he hadn’t wanted Chen to marry her, or hand’t liked her at all, he still would have tried to be happy for Chen. Chen had been the first person Sehun had told before he’d asked Jae to marry him, and then again right after when Jae had said yes. Chen had encouraged Sehun with Jae in every way. Sehun could only return the favor.

“Sorry I’m late,” Kai said, a little breathless. “I had a class that ran late. Hey, where’s Chanyeol?”

Sehun glanced over to the last place he’d seen him. It looked liked Chanyeol had completely forgotten about the drinks he was supposed to be bringing back for them, and was now painfully flirting with one of the waiters.

“He’s over there making an ass of himself,” Sehun volunteered.

Chen shrugged, “So nothing out of the ordinary?”

Sehun’s phone chirped, indicating a new e-mail, but he ignored it. It took some work to get more than a couple of friends in one spot at one time. It had been much easier when they were young and in college, but now they were all adults, moving in different directions. And no work relayed email was going to ruin that.

Chen asked, “You had a class run late?”

With a nod, Kai began to steal an ample amount of their cooking beef. “We just added some Latin dances to the roster. You’d be surprised how fast those salsa and tango classes filled up.”

“Chen,” Sehun said, nudging his friend, “why don’t you and Eunji sign up for some classes? You have to learn how to dance for your wedding anyway.”

Kai’s eyes widened. “You’re getting married, Chen?”

With an exacerbated sigh, Chen called out loudly to Chanyeol, “Hey, loverboy, get over here!” Then he turned back to the rest of them and said, “I’m only going to explain this one more time.”

Feeling a spark of pleasure, brought upon by how much he cared for his friends, Sehun teased to Kai, “That’s totally a lie. He’s going to talk about this for the next year until he actually gets married.”

The row of laughter that followed, and the round of drinks, made Sehun think for just a second that it might be better to leave his house a little more frequently. Maybe.

Furthermore, he went home several hours later, feeling rejuvenated and happy. He entered his quiet house without hesitation, toed off his shoes on the rack next to the door, unbuttoned his light blazer, and was making the walk to the staircase before he even realized what he was doing.

He might have stood at the top of the stairs, staring down the master bedroom door for more than fifteen minutes. He’d been moving on autopilot, dreaming of his comfortable bed, and was only just now realizing how close he’d come to stepping foot in a room he’d vowed never to go again. Because it was Jae’s room. It was the bedroom he’d shared with his husband. He had no place going it alone.

His cowardice won out in the end, like he’d expected it to, and he shuffled his way back downstairs towards the couch, set his phone’s alarm clock, then promptly fell asleep.

In the morning, when he woke to the coffee pot auto brewing, and the flashing of his phone. Sehun gave the bedroom not one more thought and instead went directly to his office. He’d have to go down to his job’s main building that day, he had a presentation around noon, but the morning was clear and Sehun had most certainly become a workaholic following Jae’s death.

The line of e-mails waiting for him in his inbox were nothing out of the ordinary. There were a couple work related, one from Kai, another from Chen with a photo of a ring attached, and then one from an address that he didn’t recognize. Most of the e-mails from unknown senders that he received were filtered into his junk box automatically, but occasionally a few slipped through. And the subject line of the e-mail was …

DO NOT IGNORE THIS MESSAGE. IMPORTANT BABY INFORMATION ATTACHED.

Sehun’s cursor hovered over the link.

Luhan. There was no way this wasn’t from Luhan. But how the hell had he gotten Sehun’s e-mail address?

He’d clicked on the e-mail before he had even realized it, and found himself reading out loud, “I know I told you that it was fine if you didn’t want anything to do with our baby. That was a mistake. I’m changing my mind.”

Huh.

He continued reading, “This baby is just as much mine as it is yours. In fact, this baby is fifty percent yours, and that means you need to shoulder fifty percent of the responsibility. So whether you like it or not, I’m going to keep you appraised of what’s going on.”

No. No. Absolutely no. He thought he’d been terribly clear with Luhan earlier when the man had tried to foist the baby on him.

He read on, “I want you to know that I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m not doing it to punish you. I’m doing this for our baby, because our baby deserves better, and I’m going to make sure he or she gets better. You don’t get to hurt our baby just because you’re hurting.”

Sehun clutched at the edge of his desk.

Luhan knew.

Somehow, some way, Luhan knew. He knew about Jae, he knew about their dead baby, and he knew all of the secrets that haunted Sehun restlessly. Someone had told him. Someone had told him everything. There was no mistaking it.

Voice shaking, he barely managed to finish reading, “I’ve attached the information pertaining to my next doctor’s appointment if you want to come. I want you there. The doctor said she’d be able to see the gender for certain by then. We’ve tried before, but our baby is quite stubborn and likes to face away most of the time. If you can’t make it, I’ll forward you what the doctor and I talked about and the updated ultrasound pictures.”

He was frantically clicking the reply button before he could help himself, and typed back, “How did you get this e-mail? LEAVE ME ALONE.”

Succinct and firm, he decided. Luhan would have to get the point now.

Then he sat there, shaking in his chair, waiting for a response that might take days to come back, ignoring the fact that he had a presentation to prepare for.

He nearly wept aloud at the chime of the e-mail from Luhan.

It simply said, much to his chagrin, “I’m eighteen weeks now, which means I’m feeling a lot of movement. Xiumin, he’s my best friend, swears he can’t feel anything, but apparently that isn’t too abnormal, either. Our baby moving is sort of like gas, I hate to admit, but better, obviously.”

That was it? That was the reply?

Sehun typed back, “I will block you.”

And Luhan replied, “I know where you live. I’ll hand deliver all of our baby’s progress to you, if you block me.”

“I will get a restraining order,” he mashed on the keyboard.

The chime of the e-mail was almost as enraging as Sehun read, “Because yes, I’m such a threat to your safety, me lugging your baby around with my caffeine restrictions and possible prenatal diabetes.”

Then he stopped, blinking almost wildly, completely forgetting himself.

Prenatal diabetes? Was Luhan sick? Was their baby hurting?

“It is not my baby,” he made himself repeat, then he had to say it again and again, just to convince himself of it. His baby was dead and buried. His baby was not gestating in someone currently.

But if Luhan was sick …

“Are you okay?” he sent back.

The response was much longer coming now, by minutes, really.

His palms started to sweat his heartbeat picked up, and Sehun realized how unsettled he was at the thought of something being wrong.

Finally he read back from Luhan, “I’m fine. My doctor doesn’t think I should worry yet, but we’re being extra cautious. If you come to the appointment, it’s ten days from now, we can talk about it with her. Xiumin’s sister is someone it trust to tell me the truth. She’d say if our baby was in danger. But never mind any of that, check out this picture. This baby is our future super star footballer.”

But it wasn’t the baby that Sehun thought was in the most danger if Luhan was showing symptoms of being diabetic. Luhan was.

Giving his rolling chair a nudge back, Sehun moved himself away from the keyboard. There was no point in exchanging anymore messages, or really of having any content. He absolutely wasn’t going to the doctor’s appointment. He wasn’t getting involved with Luhan. It wasn’t going to happen.

But he had to find out how Luhan had known. It was a boiling rage under his skin, the belief that someone would go behind his back and do something so terrible. It was a slight against Sehun, but also it was a slight against Jae and their baby.

There was only one person who knew about Luhan and the baby. There was only one single person who had any idea that Sehun had made the worst mistake of his life.

He lunged for his phone, fingers scrolling through his contact list at a maddening pace.

Sehun took a deep breath to ready himself as the phone was ringing, and then the second the line clicked over, launched out with, “How dare you do this to me, you conniving, sneaky, self serving bastard!”

How could Suho, Jae’s own brother, have hurt him like this? Suho had spent all that time claiming they were family, and apparently trying to prove how much he cared about making sure Sehun took care of himself after the funeral. But now he was going around letting people know about the worst thing that had ever happened to him?

“Woah--” Suho said from the other end of the line.

But Sehun was not willing to let him get even a single word in. “You are scum, you asshole, absolute scum. How could you? How could you tell Luhan about Jae and the baby? How could you betray me like that? I told you to leave well enough alone. I told you that I’m not doing this, and I’m not accepting it. But you kept pushing and then you went and did this.”

“Sehun.”

“No,” he snapped viciously, “you listen to me. I hate you. I hate you more than you can imagine. I hate you more than I hate myself, and I’m the person who went off and got some other guy pregnant on the night that I had to put my husband and my baby in the ground. We are not family. We are not friends. And I never want to speak to you ever again.”

He was about to end the call, finger poised over the red angry button when he heard Suho say, “Sehun, I think you called the wrong person by mistake.”

The ground might as well have fallen out from under him.

“Sehun? Are you … okay?”

His eyes fell down to the caller information displayed on the cell phone’s screen and realized that he had misdialed. It wasn’t Suho on the other end of the line.

Later on, when his blood pressure had come down and he’d stopped wanting to crawl under his desk and hide like a child, he’d rationalize it as a simple mistake based on nicknames. Because Suho was a nickname. It was the only name the Sehun had ever really called him by, but it wasn’t the name Sehun had for him in his address book. Instead his name there was dangerously close to Kai’s real name, not that Sehun had ever called him anything but Kai, either.

Kai. He’d called Kai by mistake.

“Sehun, are you at home?

He was so stupid. He was an idiot. He’d called Kai and now he was down a hole he couldn’t climb out of.

“Sehun? Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” he managed to whisper. Physically he was, at least.

There was some thudding on Kai’s end, then he said, “I’m coming over right now, okay? Don’t move. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

The phone disconnected before Sehun cold tell him not to.

He was still sitting in his office, the computer’s screen saver running due to inactivity, when Kai pounded on his door. Thirty seconds later he let himself in, and was calling out, “Sehun? Where are you?”

“Here,” Sehun called out voice cracking.

When Kai appeared in the doorway he looked out of sorts, and a little how Sehun felt. Kai’s hair was all rucked up from the wind, his shirt was wrinkled, and Sehun was struck with the possibility that he’d woken Kai. Kai worked late into the night at times. He slept in most mornings.

Sehun had probably woken him with his angry rambling.

“So,” Kai eased out, an awkward look on his face. He took a seat on the sofa in the corner of the room, tucking a leg underneath him. “About that phone call.”

Sehun ran a hand over his face roughly. “Any chance you could forget about everything I said.”

Kai winced. “It’s pretty unlikely. Was there truth to what I heard you say?”

The best Sehun could figure, he had two options. Either he could admit the truth to Kai, and come clean to him, or he could do his best to plausibly deny everything he’d said. The worst part was, Kai wasn’t stupid, but he was a very good friend.

Kai had given a speech, right after Chen, at Sehun’s wedding to Jae. It was Kai’s studio that Sehun and Jae had practiced their wedding dancing in. Kai had been there, just a few hours after Jae had died, and he’d stayed with Sehun and everyone else, dumping all his responsibilities to make sure that Sehun was going to make it through the night.

Even if Sehun gave Kai the worst conceived lie on the face of the planet, and regardless of whether Kai believed him or not, he would let the subject go. He wouldn’t be like Suho and press the matter. Kai would let him be.

Maybe that was why Sehun couldn’t lie to him.

“It was all true.”

Kai gave a slow nod. “You got someone pregnant?”

Shame lacing his words, Sehun said, “I went out drinking with Chen the night Jae was buried. I drank a lot, and I slept with someone. He’s pregnant now.

Did it mean something about Kai being a better man that he didn’t ask if Sehun thought it was his baby? There was nothing of the sort on Kai’s face, in fact. He simply seemed to be accepting the idea.

“Sehun,” Kai said softly, “you’re going to be a father.”

His fist crashed down on his desk and Sehun all but shouted, “I’m not going to be a father!”

Almost flippantly, Kai told him, “If you got this guy pregnant, and he’s going to have your baby, trust me, you’re a father.”

“I’m not,” Sehun said again.

“Why are you mad at Suho?” Kai asked instead. “It has something to do with this, right?”

“He,” Sehun started, “he told Luhan. About Jae.”

“Luhan is the guy who’s pregnant?”

Sehun nodded. “Suho was the only person who knew Luhan existed, and he must have contacted him and told him everything that he had no right saying.”

Kai crossed his legs fully and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know Suho as well as you, Sehun, but he’s a pretty respectful guy. He’s not the kind of person who speaks without thinking. If he told …Luhan, anything about Jae, he must have had a good reason for it.”

Darkly, Sehun said, “There’s no reason that could ever be valid enough.”

Sehun was going to kill him. A phone call had been a poor idea. He was going to go to see Suho in person and he was going to rip him to pieces.

“So what are you going to do about the fact that you’re going to have a little person comprised of half of your genetic material, crawling around by the new year?”

“I don’t want anything to do with that baby, Kai,” Sehun said, almost pleading with him to understand. “I can’t. I just … I can’t.”

“Because Sooyoung died?”

At the first mention of her name, Sehun jerked a bit. “How do you know that?”

Kai asked, “Know her name? Sehun, you were married to Jaehyuk, but you weren’t his best friend. Jae and Baekhyun would go out all the time and talk about this stuff, and sometimes I got roped into driving them around, since Jae couldn’t drive and Baekhyun refuses to. I heard Jae mention it. You two wanted her name to be a surprise, didn’t you? At least until the announcements went out.”

It was a new wave of pain attacking his heart at the mention of his daughter’s name.

“Jae wanted to have a huge reveal,” Sehun was forced to admit, his chest seizing. “He said her name was special and he wanted everyone special to us to find out at just the perfect time.”

They’d agonized over names for months. They’d found out they were having a girl in the fourth month, and from then on out it had been constant arguing, more so than when they’d tried to put he nursery together, over what kind of name would suit her.

Jae had wanted something classic and feminine, something as beautiful as he imagined she was going to be. Adversely, Sehun had wanted something much more interesting. He’d wanted the kind of name for his daughter that would make a statement and act as a precursor for how much of an amazing life she was going to lead. He’d wanted something unique and fascinating and not girly.

They’d only just settled on her name before the accident. Their baby hadn’t even had a name for a week, before she’d died.

It felt like such a jinx now.

“Sehun,” Kai said, leaning towards him, “none of the rest of us will ever understand what you’re going through with that kind of loss. We will never be able to, god willing. And maybe that’s why you can’t see what’s in front of you, but Jae and your daughter dying doesn’t mean that you can’t move on and still have a family.”

“I don’t want a new family!” Sehun thundered.

Unperturbed, Kai told him, “You’re not replacing them by accepting Luhan in your life as the person who’s giving you a child. And yes, stop making that face, you’re having a baby. You don’t want it and you’re clearly going to fight it and act like less of a man than a child deserves for a father, but nothing is going to change the fact that there is a baby coming. You’re going to be a father, Sehun.”

“I was going to be a father,” Sehun clarified. “Jae was going to have my child. Sooyoung was my child.”

Kai shook his head and sighed. “I’m starting to understand why Suho may have pissed you off. I assume he tried to talk some sense into you?”

“You call this sense?” Sehun chocked out in an annoyed way. “Trying to bully me into accepting a child that I just cannot?”

“Why not?” Kai demanded. “Because you think it besmirches Sooyoung some how?”

The risk of blowing up on Kai was gaining momentum, so instead Sehun asked him flatly, “I appreciate you coming over here to check on me, but I think you should go now. And I’d be even more appreciative if you could keep this to yourself. It’s bad enough I have to live with the truth of knowing I betrayed Jae in this way, I don’t want any of our other friends or Jae’s parents finding out.”

Kai got to his feet slowly. “You should be grateful, you know.”

“What?” Sehun demanded. “I swear to god, Kai, if you don’t--”

“You lost your daughter,” Kai said anyway, “in the most senseless and horrible way that a parent can lose a child--in an accident. But it was just that, an accident. You may not have planned or wanted for this new pregnancy to occur, and you may look at it like a burden, but I think it’s a second chance for you.”

“Get out!”

“Pull your head out of your ass!” Kai threw right back at him.

Sehun drew himself up to his full height. “You get out right now or I’ll make you.”

“Stop being a coward,” Kai said as he headed away from Sehun. “Stop being so damn ungrateful that you get a second chance at having a baby.” He stomped his way to the front door and slammed it behind him.

Sehun collapsed down into his seat and just happened to glance at his laptop where the latest e-mail from Luhan had an attachment with it.

Against his better judgment he downloaded it quickly.

The picture was unrecognizable at first, looking just like a giant smudge of blue against a camera lens. But a closer, more patient look clarified to him that the blue was merely a shirt, material stretched over the swell of what Sehun knew was his child.

His child.

In Luhan’s words, their future superstar footballer.

Jae had said about their daughter, “Wouldn’t it be amazing if she could be a ballet prima donna? Or a fantastic doctor who cures cancer? Or wow, Sehun, she could be Prime Minister!”

Sehun had said back to him, “As long as she’s a footballer, I’ll be happy.”

With a growl of rage Sehun picked up his laptop and threw it against the far wall.

Breathing hard the rest of the contents on his desk were shoved to the floor, and then Sehun was kicking his chair, so angry and so sad and so broken.

Kai wasn’t speaking to him. That was what Sehun learned over the next few days as he drifted to and from work, ignored invitations from Chen to go drinking, and did his best to avoid the outside world completely.

He knew because Chanyeol told him one day, “Baekhyun wants you to know that Kai isn’t talking to you. Sehun, what did you do to piss him off?”

Sehun countered by asking, “How is this any of Baekhyun’s business?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Baekhyun’s been staying with Kai since his place is being fumigated, remember? Why are you so touchy about this? Did you guys fight?”

Sehun didn’t dignify an answer of any kind. If Kai wanted to ignore him that was fine.

Then Chanyeol asked, “Hey, is that a new laptop?”

Sehun glared at him until Chanyeol took off running, complaining about not wanting to talk to him either.

For the rest of the week, and into then next, Sehun was ignored by Kai, but did his own part in ignoring Suho who was wisely keeping his distance. It seemed like the matter with Luhan had rippled down into the relationships Sehun had with his friends. Now they were all standing on uneven ground with each other, and only a few of them knew why.

It almost pained Sehun to admit it, but Luhan’s infrequent but charming e-mails, the ones that Sehun never responded to, were quickly becoming the highlight of his days.

Some times Luhan would e-mail him two or three times a day, saying things like, “This baby does not like citrus. Good thing we don’t live on an orange farm,” or even things like, “do you think it’s true that if I let the baby listen to music, it’ll be smarter when it’s born?”.

Luhan told him about his ankles starting to swell up, having to go up a pants size, wanting to get a puppy for the baby, and maybe just the things were on the top of his mind.

More than often Luhan’s thoughts put a smile on Sehun’s face, at least until he realized what was happening.

And once in a while he had to stop himself from responding. He couldn’t encourage Luhan. If he showed an kind of interest who knew what would happen.

Then Tuesday was upon Sehun before he knew it, and early in the morning his e-mail inbox rang with Luhan’s now familiar address.

Clicking on the e-mail he was thankful for its briefness, merely asking if he was coming to the doctor’s appointment, reminding him it was at ten.

Sehun was not going. His position on the matter hadn’t changed. More and more he’d been coming to grips with the fact that Luhan’s baby had his genetic material, as Kai had stated. But that didn’t mean Sehun was the father. He wasn’t anyone’s father.

Sehun was heading for the office around nine when the next e-mail came from Luhan, reading, “Can’t make it? That’s too bad. I really want you there. But it’s okay! Xiumin is going to take me. I’ll send you the information later on.”

Scowling, Sehun wondered who this Xiumin was.

Then he put the whole matter from his mind.

He reached his work office by nine-thirty and threw himself into work. At least until he heard the chime.

“T-minus thirty minutes until we find out if it’s a girl or a boy!”

Sehun was befuddled by Luhan. When Luhan had told him about the baby they’d fought, and terribly so. Luhan had screamed at him and called him names and been on fire, in a sense. But the Luhan through correspondence was always cheery and patient and persistent.

What had Suho said to him to make him this way?

Was Luhan just being nice to him because he felt sorry for Sehun’s loss?

Sehun pointedly ignored the clock until he was certain it was after ten.

But then oddly enough he couldn’t look away from it after that. By ten-thirty he was watching the seconds tick by, and by eleven he knew for a fact that Luhan had to know what the gender was. There had to be an e-mail incoming very shortly.

It just never came.

“Something bothering you, Oh?” his boss asked him at half passed three, just as the day was winding down.

Sehun felt an absolute mess, his skin itchy, his mind whirling with possibilities and his stomach churning at the thought that something could be wrong.

God, what if there was something wrong? What if Luhan had gone to the doctor and they’d found something bad? Luhan had wanted him there, and as little as Sehun liked it, he had helped make that baby. He should have been there. He had been there for Jae and for their baby, he should have been there for Luhan. What kind of man was he?

It was an excruciating wait, watching the minutes slowly drag by, trying to convince himself that Luhan had simply forgotten to e-mail him, or had gone out with friends and been delayed in sending it.

Then finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

If something was wrong with Luhan, he deserved to know.

“Suho,” Sehun bit out harshly, still feeling utterly betrayed by him. But he hadn’t had any other choice. He’d had to call the man, because there was no one else Luhan could have gotten Sehun’s e-mail from. Luhan and Suho had to be in constant contact with each other, and Suho would be able to get Sehun a phone number. Or an address.

“Sehun?” Suho asked, surprise spiking his naturally low voice. “It’s nice to hear from you, but I’m not sure why.”

Almost bitterly, Sehun asked, “You knew Luhan had a doctor’s appointment today, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Suho confirmed right away. “I asked him to keep me appraised of his pregnancy. This baby may not mean much to you, but it means something to me.”

“You don’t presume to know what means what to me,” Sehun said, then forced himself to take calm, even breaths. “Luhan said he’d e-mail me what happened. I haven’t heard anything from him.”

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to know,” Suho replied, sounding absolutely glib.

“Just tell me if you know something.”

After a few beats of silence, Suho said, “I know that Luhan was supposed to have that appointment today, but I didn’t expect to hear from him right away. Maybe you’re just not on his priority list right now, Sehun. You are the man denying his child.”

Eyes narrowing, Sehun demanded, “Why are you so interested in Luhan and the baby? It’s not yours. You don’t know Luhan. There’s nothing trying you to either of them. Why the interest?”

“Other than the fact that my irritating, but ultimately deserving brother-in-law is the father’s child, and I care about said brother-in-law regardless of how little he cares about himself?”

More silence followed.

Then Sehun said, “Luhan has been sending me e-mails over the past few weeks.”

“I asked him to try.”

“Try?” Sehun wondered.

“To make you see that this baby isn’t the horrible thing you think it is. He’s been trying, at my request. Have you been making any effort in response? Or have you just been pissing him off or ignoring him?”

Sehun hated how well Suho was able to read the situation.

Carefully, Suho asked, “What are you going to do, Sehun, when in fifteen years your child shows up on your doorstep and demands to know why you didn’t want him or love her? What are you going to do when you’re asked questions with answers you regret?”

That was something he couldn’t think of at the moment. He could only mumble to Suho, “I’m worried something went wrong at the appointment. Luhan told me the doctor is watching for pregnancy related diabetes. Something must have gone wrong or be bad if he hasn’t e-mailed me. Luhan doesn’t seem the kind of guy to not do something he says he will.”

Eventually Suho admitted, “I have Luhan’s address. I managed to dig it up, though it wasn’t easy considering the lack of information I knew at the time. I just don’t know if I should give it to you. Maybe something did go wrong and he doesn’t want to talk to you right now. You haven’t been the most supportive guy.”

“I want the address,” Sehun said, already gathering his keys up. “That’s my baby he’s carrying Suho.”

“Now it’s your baby?”

Sehun gripped the phone so hard he could feel the plastic start to buckle.

“I am a coward, Suho. I’m a coward who lost the only thing worth living for, and I’m too afraid to try again. But yes, that is my baby. What’s the address?”

Suho cleared his throat. “Do you want me to drive you?”

Sehun slid his shoes on. “No. I just want the address.” He paused, then said, “Suho. Please. Just give it to me.”

“Do you need to write it down?”

“No, I’m good,” Sehun said, never thinking for a second that he’d forget the most important address he might ever memorize. “I’m heading to my car now. What is it?”

He tried not to break the speed limit too frequently as he raced towards the last person he’d thought would so wholly consume his thoughts. And to his baby. The baby who was precious to him, no matter how little Sehun wanted it to be.

Chapter Text

“Ready?”

Xiumin’s sister, the only doctor Luhan would have fully trusted with his pregnancy, rolled her chair slightly from the ultrasound machine to where Luhan was lying on the examination table. In her hand she had a tube of gel, and on her face was a hopeful expression.

“Any way to get that stuff warmed up before it actually gets on my skin?” Luhan asked, a smile stretching across his face. He turned almost instinctively for Xiumin who was across the room, scrolling something on his phone. He called out, “Hey, best friend, could you maybe try to look excited that you’re going to find out if you’re getting a niece or nephew?”

Looking a little started, Xiumin asked, “Already?”

His sister rolled her eyes and helped Luhan inch up his shirt a bit more. “You’re hopeless, Minseok.”

Xiumin rolled his eyes at her use of his actual name, and not the more familiar moniker that Luhan called him by. “Sorry. Work’s bugging me.”

Luhan tried his best to relax, and hid a wince as the cold ultrasound gel hit his warm skin. “You didn’t have to come, you know. I could have come by myself. I know things are really picking up for you at work.”

Xiumin shook his head, moving to Luhan’s side. “I wanted to come, I told you. Work isn’t more important than this.”

There was little Luhan could do to convey to Xiumin how much he appreciated having Xiumin support him. At least nothing he hadn’t already told his best friend. Xiumin had never wavered from the moment he’d found out there was going to be a baby, and had already made mention his desire for honorable uncle duty. He was committed to throwing Luhan his baby shower, and making sure Luhan knew that he’d always have friends, even if he didn’t have support elsewhere.

Luhan said, watching Xiumin’s sister press the ultrasound wand against his distended stomach, “Next time I’ll get Suho to come.”

Xiumin made a face as his sister asked, “Who’s Suho?” Luhan could hear the question she really wanted to ask. She suspected Suho was the baby’s other father.

“He’s .. complicated?” Xiumin answered for Luhan, but clearly wasn’t sure.

With a nod, Luhan explained, “I guess you could say he’s indirectly tied to this baby? He’s my baby’s father’s brother-in-law.”

Her hand paused and she wondered, “How’d that all happen?”

“Long story,” Luhan sighed. And it was a personal one, one that Suho had probably told him with the intent that he not share it around. It wouldn’t matter that Xiumin’s sister would never know who Sehun was, it was important to Luhan as a man of honor that he didn’t say anything on the subject. So instead he told his doctor, “I guess he cares about the baby, at least more than the actual father does, and I believe him when he says he wants to be involved. He offered to come with me to my doctors visits.”

“I think we should pass on some stranger bringing you here,” Xiumin said. Then his eyes were widening and he asked, “Oh my god, is that the baby?”

Luhan’s eyes tore over to the screen and he felt them burn almost immediately with tears waiting to be shed.

There was his baby. There was his perfect, wonderful, amazing baby.

“He’s so big,” Luhan said, wanting to reach out and touch the monitor. “Much bigger than before.” Now, with the decent picture appearing before them, Luhan could clearly make out the head, two legs, arms, and maybe even a side profile. It would be a while longer before they could have a better, 3-D ultrasound, but for now what they had was enough. It was more than enough.

“That’s amazing,” Xiumin said, mouth agape. It served to remind Luhan that this was the first time Xiumin was seeing the baby in a live picture. Xiumin had an ultrasound picture of Luhan’s baby proudly tacked up on his refrigerator, but he hadn’t been with Luhan the last time he’d come for an ultrasound.

Moving the wand around for a better picture, Xiumin’s sister asked Luhan, “Have you been feeling the baby move more frequently now?”

Luhan blinked furiously against the tears in his eyes as he realized he could see his baby’s fingers. “I am,” he said, voice a little rough. “He’s moving around a lot more, and other people can finally feel him. I was starting to think it was just gas I was feeling, at last until a couple weeks ago.”

Xiumin nodded in confirmation. “He’s a pretty active kid already. I can’t imagine how he’s going to be when he starts to walk.”

“She,” Luhan’s doctor told him. “This is most definitely a girl.”

Luhan’s feet, which had been hanging off the table and jiggling almost nervously, stilled immediately. “Are you sure?” he asked, not daring to say more.

At a nod, Luhan looked back to the monitor.

A girl. His baby was a girl. He was having a little girl.

“A niece,” Xiumin said with delight. “I’m going to have a niece. Luhan, you’re having a girl!”

“She’s perfect,” Luhan said, feeling her shift around inside him, the movements echoed on the picture. “Oh, she’s so perfect.”

Luhan thought it was something of a dream how he was feeling. He’d gone from initially being wary of the life he was carrying, maybe even a little resentful, to how he was now, utterly in love with her. She wasn’t even born yet, and she was his whole world.

He couldn’t wait to tell Sehun they were having a girl. With any luck the news would bring him around a bit more.

Luhan dared to hope that he was making progress with Sehun, even if it was just a little bit at a time. After all, Sehun hadn’t blocked his e-mails yet, and he even responded to some of them.

A girl.

Would Sehun want a girl? Would Sehun---

Luhan felt anxiety spike through him.

Sehun would … Suho had said …

All of the sudden Luhan could think of nothing but the moment Suho had told him Sehun’s baby had been a girl. Sehun had almost had a daughter. She’d died just weeks before her projected birth. And hadn’t Suho said how much he hoped Luhan’s baby was a boy?

There was absolutely no way Sehun was going to be happy that the baby was a girl. There was no way Sehun wasn’t going to look at the baby he’d made with Luhan and think of his dead daughter. This baby being a girl wasn’t going to help Sehun come to terms with anything, and it was probably going to make Sehun even more difficult to deal with.

Luhan was so damn happy it was a girl, but the implication of what it meant for Sehun being a father figure was … not good.

“Luhan?” Xiumin asked, sounding uncertain. “Are you okay?”

“It’s really a girl??” Luhan had to ask again. “You’re absolutely, positively sure?”

Xiumin’s sister laughed. “Trust me, I’m positive. Your baby isn’t packing anything down below, if you catch my drift. I’m getting a pretty good angle on her right now. I’m confident. This is a girl.”

Luhan wondered how he was going to tell Sehun that the baby was a girl.

“Pictures?” his doctor asked, tapping on a few keys.

“Pictures,” Luhan agreed, feeling a little numb.

Fifteen minutes later he was dressed in his regular clothes, holding a stack of ultrasound pictures, and waiting for the doctor to give him the all clear. Xiumin had left the room early to grab the car and bring it around front for him, despite how firmly Luhan had told him he wasn’t that much of an invalid. Yet.

“You’ve been taking it easy?” she asked him, flipping through his chart quickly. “Remember I told you about keeping your stress levels in check, eating right, and getting about an hour of light exercise in every day?”

Her words were almost enough to distract Luhan from the thought that he was having a daughter. “I am … is something wrong?”

She made a face, then eased out, “I thought your numbers might be a tick odd before, and they haven’t changed since then.”

“What kind of numbers?” Luhan felt icy fear grip him. “Is something wrong with my baby? Is this about the possible gestational diabetes?”

“Luhan,” she said gently, setting his chart to the side. “You’re not in any danger, I promise you. If I was overly concerned I would share those concerns with you right away, and we’d implement a plan of action. I still don’t like what I’m seeing as far as what might happen in the future, but it hasn’t happened yet, so we’re going to keep monitoring you closely, and I want you to keep doing what I advised you to.”

“Okay,” Luhan said, not trusting his legs to hold him up if he slid off the bed. “You promise you’ll tell me right away if she’d in danger?”

“Swear,” she smiled at him, and it was less forced this time. “Keep eating right. Get that exercise. And painting, which is something you’re amazing at by the way, is a great way to relieve stress. Keep it up and we’ll check your numbers again the next time you come in.” She nudged him playfully. “Now get going. My brother must be out front by now.”

Slowly Luhan put his feet down, then added his weight. It was something he’d taken for granted before, just being able to jump up and go. His center of gravity was absolutely wrecked now and he absolutely had to take his time, or risk serious vertigo.

Luhan told her seriously, “I think Xiumin is going to be the best uncle ever.”

She said back, “I have no doubt about that.”

It was absolutely sweltering outside the hospital, and humid to boot. The hospital earlier had seemed too cold, but now Luhan wanted to turn around and go back inside. His apartment had central heating, something that was desperately necessary in the winter, but no air conditioning to speak of. Already Luhan had spent most of the summer holed up in the coffee shop bellow, which was infinitely cooler and filled with fans.

Thankfully Xiumin had the car’s air conditioner on full blast when Luhan got in.

“That was something, wasn’t it?” Xiumin asked almost right away, a stupid kind of smile on his face that Luhan could relate to. “A daughter, Luhan. You’re have a daughter.”

Luhan pressed a hand to his stomach, wondering why all the sudden a simple gender reveal made his baby feel even more real. There was a girl inside him, which was something so wonderful to think about. He was having a daughter.

“I guess I better start thinking of girl names,” Luhan admitted. “I was pretty sure I was having a boy, actually. Tao said I was carrying low.”

Xiumin gave him a quick look of disbelief. “Tao is studying to be a physical therapist. How is that a qualification to determine what someone’s baby’s gender might be. And from just looking, too.”

“I think he meant it in good fun,” Luhan chuckled.

Xiumin shrugged. “Well, now we can tell him that he was wrong. It’s going to be a girl.” Xiumin paused to ease out, “You are happy you’re having a girl, right? Or did you want a boy?”

Luhan said, completely honest, “I wanted either, Xiumin. Either was fine by me. I just want my baby to be healthy.”

Making a pleased sound, Xiumin said, “But a girl is wonderful.”

“Yeah,” Luhan said, his face almost hurting from how wide he was smiling, “a girl is very nice.”

Before they got very far into traffic Xiumin asked, “Do you want me to take you home, or are you up for going out for a little bit?”

As they paused at a red light Luhan thought of the ultrasound pictures in his hand and his promise to e-mail Sehun. If he went home he’d have no excuse not to let Sehun know it was going to be a girl. He’d have to. But if he went out …

“I think we should celebrate,” Luhan said, forcing a smile. “I’m having a girl. That’s cause for celebration.”

Xiumin flashed him a thumbs up. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

He’d have to go home eventually, Luhan realized. He’d have to face reality and write the dreaded e-mail. But going out with Xiumin was a valid excuse not to be at home at the moment, and it was one he was going to take.

Luhan dug out his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll call around. I get the feeling some other people are going to want to celebrate with us.”

“I’m still her number one uncle,” Xiumin reminded, a teasing tone to his voice. “You know that, right?”

Luhan’s thumb scrolled over to Lay’s name and he assured, “Don’t worry, Xiumin. You’re going to be her first and best uncle. No worries there.”

It turned out that Kris was caught up at work the entire day, but both Tao and Lay were more than happy to meet them for a late lunch, and even beat Xiumin and Luhan to the agreed upon restaurant.

“Come on, come on,” Tao demanded, shifting restlessly in his seat once the four of them were there. “Let’s see those pictures.”

Luhan spread them out on the table in front o them and said almost proudly, “It’s definitely a girl.”

Tao breathed out, “That’s so cool.” Tao touched the nearest picture almost reverently. “And now you know what color to do the nursery.”

The nursery was something Luhan hadn’t even begun to think about, but he’d have to get on it sooner, rather than later. The apartment he lived in, while small, did have two bedrooms. Up until now Luhan had used the second of the two as a storage area, and he was going to need some help to get it cleared out.

And that was all before he even started on a nursery that he had no idea about.

Well, almost no idea about. He told Tao, “I’m not painting the nursery pink.”

Tao frowned. “Why not?”

“Because things are little more progressive now,” Luhan said. “Girls don’t have to be associated with pink, or boys with blue. Anyway, I was thinking of a themed nursery, rather than just a color.”

Xiumin who was still looking the menu over, commented in a distracted way, “You could even paint it yourself.”

Luhan nodded. “If it happens in the next few months. I’m not supposed to be in an enclosed space with paint fumes in my third trimester.”

They ordered their food shortly after that, and were still gushing over Luhan’s nursery when Lay leaned over and asked him softly, “Are you going to tell your parents soon?’

Luhan hadn’t thought of his parents in a while.

He’d broken contact with them months ago, even before he’d known he was pregnant. And they’d parted on such a sour note that Luhan knew any kind of reconciliation would take him likely going all the way back to China and groveling at their feet. He’d have to admit he’d been wrong, too. But he hadn’t. He wasn’t. And that wasn’t going to happen.

“No.”

Lay reminded, almost dutifully, “You’re their only child, Luhahn. You’re having their only grandchild. You don’t think they deserve to know?”

Luhan was not the pious and honorable son that Lay was. He wasn’t going to get on his knees before his parents and beg for their forgiveness, nor for their approval. And if that meant he didn’t get to see them again, or they didn’t get to see their granddaughter, that was simply a reality Luhan would have to live with. He was a man now, a grown man with a family on the way. He couldn’t do more than hope for the best with them.

“I think,” Luhan corrected, “that I deserve some things, Lay. I deserve to have my parents accept me for exactly who I am, regardless if it’s the person they want me to be. I deserve consideration from them, and trust, and I deserve the right to live my own life how I choose.” Luhan nudged him slightly under the table, satisfied that Tao and Xiumin were still properly distracted. “I love my parents, Lay, but I don’t love them more than I love the person I am, or the person I’m going to be. I don’t love them more than my daughter, and I don’t think that’s wrong.”

It was impossible to predict which way Lay would react. After all, he held duty and honor, especially to one’s parents, in a very high regard. Luhan knew that if Lay’s parents asked him to come home, or to stop whatever he was doing, there’d be no hesitation from him.

With a sigh, Lay said, “You should at least tell them. Even if nothing comes of it, or they don’t care, then you can say you did your best, and your shoulders can be free from the weight of guilt.”

Even Luhan had to admit, “Maybe you’re right.” He could write them. His mother’s secret passion was calligraphy, for which she used to practice her English. She’d impressed the hobby into Luhan from a young age, and maybe writing to her in that way would help ease the burden.

But then what would they likely say back to him? No doubt they’d express their dissatisfaction of his pregnancy out of wedlock. They’d most certainly urge him to consider adoption, or abortion, or tell him that his daughter was going to ruin his life.

The scariest part was that they might not even be happy with his baby being a girl.

“Luhan?” Xiumin asked, drawing his attention. “Are we ready to order?”

Luhan noticed there was a patient waiter standing by their table. “Yes. Sorry.”

They ordered beef. A lot of beef. In the name of a celebration, they ordered the kind of expensive beef that should have been for a dinner meal, and not a quick lunch between friends. But they ordered it all the same, refused to let Luhan pay for a cent of it, and raised their glasses in a toast to him and his baby.

Luhan was under no misconception that raising his baby alone, or with very little support from Sehun was going to be easy, but with his friends around him, he really felt like he could do it.

Afterward, Luhan headed back to his apartment, Xiumin in tow, and the others parted ways with the promise to see him soon.

“Are you really not going to tell your parents?” Xiumin asked as they entered the apartment.

“You heard that?” Luhan asked, surprised at first. But then Xiumin was always particularly good at looking like he wasn’t paying attention while actually listening carefully.

“Are you?”

Luhan set his keys to the side and toed off his shoes. Then he made the short trek to the living room and sat on the sofa, tucking a pillow behind his back for support. “I don’t want to, but I’ll probably write them. I just don’t see the point of it, even if Lay says it’s my duty as a son.”

Xiumin sat easily on the floor, crossing his legs in front of him. “If you don’t want to, then you shouldn’t. It’s not like they’re going to fly out here and offer their endless support to you, right?”

Luhan scoffed. “More like they’ll fly out here to tell me that I’ve shamed the family by getting pregnant from a one night stand at a bar.”

Over Xiumin’s shoulder Luhan could see the sky through the nearby window. It was summer, which mean the days were longer and the night took more time to come, but the sky was no longer the vibrant blue it had been. In a couple of hours it would be orange and pink, and then sundown would be upon them.

He had to send the email before that, even if it might mean causing a clean break between himself and Sehun.

“You look preoccupied with something,” Xiumin observed.

“I was thinking about Sehun.”

Xiumin’s face scrunched in a scowl. “I wish you wouldn’t. There’s nothing about a man who is cowardly in the face of fatherhood, to think about.”

“Except he is my baby’s father.” Luhan sighed and tried to sink further into the sofa. “I promised him I’d send him an e-mail update about the doctor’s appointment. I guess I should do that now.”

“Why?” Xiumin asked. “Didn’t that asshole make it clear he wanted nothing to do with you or her?”

Luhan looked down at the her in question.

It was true to Luhan that the idea of Sehun not wanting their daughter was crazy. It was ludicrous, really, because she’d never done anything to deserve to be scorned or unwanted. She was the innocent party, and a miracle baby at that. If Sehun’s problem had been with Luhan, at least that would have been bearable and understandable. But for Sehun to deny their daughter? It was something that was starting to creep under his skin once more.

For Suho, who’d lost and been through unimaginable pain, and come to Luhan with such humility, Luhan had done his best to try with Sehun. But the months were passing quickly, the baby was growing, and before long Luhan knew he’d have her in his arms. Was he still supposed to try with Sehun then? Was he supposed to spend his whole life trying to convince Sehun to be a part of her life? How was that fair to anyone?

“I made a promise,” Luhan replied a bit weakly. “But it’s probably the last e-mail I’ll send him. If he doesn’t want anything to do with our daughter, that’s his choice. I won’t force him, and I won’t contact him. I won’t ask anything of him.”

“You won’t need to,” Xiumin swore. “You have the rest of us to pick up the slack there, and I promise you, we won’t let you down.”

Luhan tried to look as positive as possible. “You lot are going to spoil her, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much,” Xiumin laughed.

A feeling of being content was just started to creep its way back into Luhan’s chest when a sharp knock at the door sounded.

“Kris?” Luhan guessed. Maybe he’d heard about the fact that they’d bought an entire paycheck’s worth of beef and not invited him.

Xiumin got to his feet. “I’ll get it.”

From Luhan’s position on the sofa he couldn’t see who was at the door when Xiumin opened it, but he could most certainly hear, “Who the hell are you?”

“Excuse me?” Xiumin asked angrily, reeling back but continuing to block the door.

“Doesn’t Luhan live here?”

Luhan startled, recognizing the voice. He was up on his feet as quickly as he could manage, his growing stomach making it difficult, and he made his way to the door to stand behind Xiumin and remark, “What are you doing here?”

It was an incomprehensible thought that there was Sehun, standing on his doorstep, looking like he might dash forward at any second and attempt to blow past Xiumin. But if the way Xiumin was hunkering down a bit, it was going to be a tough thing if Sehun attempted it.

“You know this rude person?” Xiumin asked, not turning back to look at Luhan.

Xiumin didn’t know that this was Sehun, Luhan realized. Xiumin had never met Sehun, or seen a picture of any kind of him. Luhan had never even described him, too fearful that Tao would make good on his threats if he had a good idea of what Sehun looked like.

What was Sehun doing on his doorstep?

“Xiumin?” Luhan put a comforting hand on his shoulder, trying to urge him to the side. “This is Sehun.”

Luhan could feel Xiumin’s muscles tense up.

But before Luhan could ask anything of Sehun, it was Xiumin demanding, “What are you doing here? What business do you think you have here at all?”

Sehun’s handsome features were twisted in a second as he threw back, “Just who do you think you are? I have every right to be here. That’s my child.”

Luhan’s head was swimming. Xiumin was so angry, and Sehun was there, in the flesh, in a way Luhan hadn’t dared to hope for. Everything was out of control, the tension was making the air around them heavy, and Luhan felt himself wobble.

“It’s your baby now?” Xiumin shouted, not caring at all that Lay who lived under Luhan might hear, or anyone from the coffee shop if things escalated anymore. “You never wanted it before. Why would you think you can have it now?”

“Xiumin,” Luhan said, feeling faint. There was a heat rising through his body that was uncomfortable and borderline worrying.

“Get out of the way,” Sehun threatened. “Or I will make you. You have no business here.”

Immediately Xiumin responded, “Luhan is my best friend. And considering I’m going to be more of a father to your baby than you are, I have ever right to be here. Luhan, do you want me to get rid of this guy?”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” Sehun said, drawing himself up from the defensive slouch he’d been in. He looked primed for a fight.

At least until Luhan couldn’t see anything at all. Well, nothing but the room spinning around him. But by then his knees were unlocking, his legs were bowing out and he was going down hard.

Everything sounded a bit like it was underwater as rough hands caught him, demanding to know if he was okay, shaking him slightly.

“Stop shouting,” Luhan groaned out, pressing a hand to his forehead where a headache was thumping away. “Both of you.”

He cracked his eyesopen to see Xiumin’s face hovering above him worriedly, and Sehun’s frightened expression not too far away.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” Sehun asked shakily, his skin going pale. He was gripping his phone tightly in his hand, looking young and unsure and so very human. Not at all like the imposing and immovable rock Luhan had imagined him to be for months.

“I’m fine,” Luhan said, and already the world was settling into place. With his legs splayed out in front of him, Luhan put a heavy hand on his stomach and let himself lean more fully on Xiumin. “I just got dizzy for a second.”

Xiumin mumbled, “I’m sorry about yelling.”

Surprisingly enough, Sehun added, “I’m sorry, too.”

Luhan tapped Xiumin on the arm and requested, “Help me up?” Then slowly he was vertical again, his feet planted firmly on the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sehun asked.

“I am,” Luhan assured, then turned and made his way back to the sofa. He settled in quickly, leaning back against its softness with appreciation, and called out, “Don’t the two of you just stand there.”

It was probably something of a miracle that thirty seconds later Luhan had Xiumin pressed in protectively at his side, while Sehun sat across from them in the armchair Kris occupied every time he came to visit.

“What are you doing here, Sehun?” Luhan asked him. He hadn’t thought anything short of a natural disaster could make Sehun willingly come see him.

Sehun’s glaze moved directly to Luhan’s stomach where it settled, making Luhan feel a little self-conscious. His doctor was certain his pregnancy was progressing at a normal rate, and she’d warned that his tall, thin form would make him look bigger than what was likely typical, but he’d never been more aware of his rounded middle than right now. Sehun’s eyes on his stomach was unnerving.

After some hesitation, Sehun said, “You said you’d e-mail me. Your appointment was at ten.”

Xiumin cut in angrily, “If you knew it was at ten, you could have been there. You chose not to, so I don’t really think Luhan was under any obligation to tell you anything.”

Luhan expected a fight of some kind, but almost sadly Sehun said, “No, I guess you’re right. I was just … worried.”

Luhan stared at him. Suho had claimed that Sehun was incomprehensively damaged. He’d said he believed that Sehun could recover eventually, but that it might take time. He’d believed, and imparted to Luhan, that patience and persistence was the key. Suho had been sure. And now Luhan thought for the first time he was seeing a hint of what had been said between the two of them.

But he didn’t dare to hope that this was Sehun coming around.

“I’m sorry,” Luhan said, “I haven’t been home until just now.” He forced a cheery look to his face. “But you didn’t have anything to worry about. Everything is perfectly fine.”

There was an abhorrent amount of awkward tension in the room between the three of them. It was suffocating, really, and distracting as well.

“You … ah …” Sehun tried almost adorably, “found out the gender? That’s what Suho said this appointment was for.”

On the nearby table was one of the ultrasound photos. Luhan wasn’t sure at all how well Ssehun would be able to tell what he was looking at if he was shown the photo. Luhan only knew that Sehun had come to see him, at his residence, because he’d been worried. He’d been worried about their baby. But all that worry might go the second Sehun found out the baby was a girl.

Luhan couldn’t let him know, not until the baby was a little older, and Sehun had more time to love her.

Luhan patted his stomach lovingly, ignoring the way his daughter kicked him savagely in the kidney. “I guess this baby just doesn’t want to let us know what it is. The doctor couldn’t tell. Sorry.”

Xiumin’s eyes narrowed at the comments, but to his credit he said nothing about Luhan’s lie. Curiosity had to be eating him up inside, but he gave none of the lie away, and if anything placed his hand deliberately over the nearby ultrasound photos, hiding them from view.

“There’s always next time,” Luhan added. “That’s in about three weeks. Maybe two. And hey, I was thinking anyway, it’s more fun not to know until the birth. I was thinking about just waiting. Unless … you really want to know?”

With an uncomfortable shake to the head, Sehun said, “It’s fine. That’s fine.”

There was more silence after that, more tension and more awkwardness.

“Xiumin,” Luhan said finally, gathering up a bit of courage. “Thank you so much for taking me to the doctor, and for being with me there, and for lunch afterwards. But I think Sehun and I need to talk now. It’s important that we communicate, right?”

Sehun straightened up a bit, but remained silent.

“Are you sure?” Xiumin asked quietly.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Xiumin said, reaching out to rub a warm hand against Luhan’s stomach. “I’ll see you two later.”

Xiumin had barely gotten through the front door before Sehun was turning accusing eyes on Luhan, asking, “Is that your boyfriend?”

Luhan frowned. “That’s my best friend. And if you want to start getting hostile with me, or making weird accusations that are none of your business, you can go too.”

Sehun grumbled, “He touches you too freely.”

“He cares about my baby,” Luhan said, wondering where Sehun’s words were coming from and why. “I’ve known Xiumin quite a while. He really is just my best friend.”

Letting out a long exhale, Sehun said, “Sorry.”

Luhan pursed his lips in thought, then asked, “How did you get my address?”

Sehun shot him back a knowing look. “How did you get my e-mail?”

“Suho,” Luhan said, and knew he’d answered his own question as well. But then, with more than a little trepidation, he was forced to mention, “You know that he told me, right? About …”

Gruffly Sehun snapped, “I know.”

Tapping a tempo against his stomach, Luhan offered, “He didn’t tell me to hurt you. He didn’t tell me intending to breech your privacy, either. He just told me because he wanted me to understand why you couldn’t accept this baby as yours, and why it hurt you so bad to even consider it. Which I do get now, Sehun. I do understand. I don’t like it and I don’t want to accept it, but I understand.”

“It’s hard,” Sehun said, refusing to meet Luhan’s gaze. “I can’t just talk about it, even though I know you want me to.”

“Then what do we do?” Luhan asked.

“I don’t know,” Sehun returned.

The paperwork was in the kitchen. The paperwork that Kris had talked Luhan into checking out. The paperwork that would relieve Sehun of his legal ties or responsibilities, was mere feet away.

“You really don’t want to be a father, do you?” Luhan inquired. “You don’t want this baby. You’re not capable of having it, are you?”

Sehun shifted forward, leaning towards Luhan, looking once more at his stomach before saying, “I’m still trying to get through the day without having these horrible thoughts of giving up. I’m still trying to pretend like I can keep going, even when I feel like I can’t I’m still trying to … to make it, Luhan. I’m trying to do this life thing, and it’s hard and I really hate it and I don’t want to be a father. I don’t think I can do it.”

“Not after losing your baby,” Luhan supplied.

“Not after losing my heart,” Sehun told him.

“Do you feel anything for this life we’ve created? Anything positive at all?”

Lips still white from the earlier incident, Sehun confessed, “When I didn’t hear from you, I got worried. I wondered if you were okay, if the baby was okay, and I cared. It’s not that I don’t care. I do. I just can’t feel.”

“Come here.” Luhan stood as quickly as he could and made the short trip to Sehun’s side. Without asking permission he reached for Sehun’s hand and dragged it up to his stomach. He felt Sehun trying to pull away but he held tight, pressing the man’s big hand to the underside of his belly where their daughter always seemed the most active.

“Luhan,” Sehun said, almost breathless.

“Wait for it.”

There. Luhan felt the jab on the inside, and he knew Sehun had felt in on the surface by the shocked expression in his face.

“It kicked,” Sehun said, eyes wide and shinning a bit.

“You felt it?” Luhan asked, gently pressing Sehun’s hand against his stomach with more pressure. “Yes?”

Sehun gave a wondrous, wordless nod.

Luhan felt hope spark in him. “See,” he told Sehun, letting himself grin. “You do still feel. It’s in you, no matter how hidden it might be. It’s there, Sehun. And this is our baby you’re feeling.”

Luhan was not prepared for the torrential downpour of tears that came from Sehun. But as Luhan held him, rubbing his back and cushioning their baby between them, Luhan couldn’t help but think it might be a good thing. They desperately needed something good. And no matter what it was progress.

Chapter Text

When the accident had happened Sehun had been at work like always, maybe twenty minutes away from taking his lunch break. There’d been absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about the day, either, other than the argument Sehun had had with Jae before they’d parted to start their morning routines. And there was zero indication that the day would turn out to be anything but regular.

So when news had been delivered to him, via one terrible phone call from Jae’s mother, Sehun had flown to his car, driven like a madman to the hospital, and not spilt one tear along the way.

It had taken some time for most of their collective families to start showing up, at least once it became evident that Jae wasn’t going to be released a few hours later with a couple of bruises and likely bed rest. All the while, with Sehun’s siblings trickling in, Suho already there, and the rest of the people they loved making appearances, Sehun hadn’t cried.

He’d watched his mother and Jae’s mother try to console each other with hopeful positivism, all the while wiping away tears. And when Sehun had gone to the bathroom six hours into the wait for news, he’d heard Suho who’d gone before him sniffling in the stall he’d barricaded himself in, shedding tears he didn’t want others to see.

Sehun hadn’t cried when the doctor had come to tell him his husband was dead.

There’d been no tears for his dead daughter, either.

And the day of the funeral, when everyone who’d ever known Jae had cried, Sehun’s eyes had been dry.

He’d wanted to cry. He’d honestly thought that if he did, if the tears came and went, he’d feel better. Crying was mourning, and with reality settling in, mourning was the next logical step. But no matter how he’d rationalized it being okay to cry, or how he’d accepted the moment it would begin, the tears never came. They simply never happened, and in that Sehun had always thought himself a little broken. After all, who wouldn’t cry at the funeral for their family? What kind of a man was incapable of it?

So now, curled into practically a stranger’s arms, Sehun found it almost baffling, or maybe downright terrifying, that he was sobbing. And god if it wasn’t happening like an explosion of sorts. His chest was heaving, his nose was running, his shoulders were hitching, and the tears …they just wouldn’t stop.

He’d spent so long trying to get them to come, and now they wouldn’t stop.

Luhan, in all his grace, the kind that Sehun was unfathomably thankful for, simply rubbed his back and held him tightly. No words were spoken. Sehun cried and Luhan waited.

After, when Sehun’s heart was aching with every beat and his lungs were burning for a steady stream of air, Luhan finally let him go and heaved himself over to the kitchen for a glass of water. Then his hand was at Sehun’s back again, rubbing once more, encouraging him to take small sips and breathe evenly.

The first thing Luhan said to him after the tears stopped, and so delicately Sehun almost missed them, were, “I know it’s a little overwhelming.”

Luhan had no idea.

“I’m sorry,” Sehun managed eventually, a terrible headache blossoming at the side of his forehead, almost treading towards migraine territory. “I don’t know what just happened.”

Luhan moved back to sit across from him once more, a thoughtful look on his a face. “Can I propose something, Sehun?”

Sehun could only answer back, “Huh?” as his mind tried to keep up with what was happening.

He desperately wanted to know what had triggered the tears. What had finally gotten them out?

He dared to suppose … could it really have been feeling his child kick? Was he really supposed to believe that his infidelity to his husband on the night he’d been buried, had caused the onslaught of waterworks? It seemed so terrible to imagine. He was still grieving for his lost child. And now he had a second to consider. A new baby.

“That’s my baby.”

Luhan blinked wide, attractive brown eyes at Sehun. “I’m sorry?”

“God,” Sehun eased out, a chill running through him. “That’s my baby.”

He’d denied it. He’d tried to ignore it. He’d been an absolute bastard about it.

But he’d felt it.

And now he knew it.

“That’s … I’m …”

Something softened in Luhan’s uncertain expression. “Sehun, do you want to hear what I’m proposing?” He dared to joke, “Or do you maybe want to feel the baby again? There’s still plenty of action going on inside. I told you, we’re having a footballer.”

Sehun shook his head almost wildly. No. Feeling those tiny signs of life thumping against his palm had been … overwhelming. He wasn’t ready to experience it again. Not just yet.

“Then my proposal?”

This time Sehun nodded.

Luhan reasoned, “I’m just going to go ahead and state some very relevant and obvious information. Stay with me, okay?” He pointed a finger at his stomach, then gestured between the two of them. “This is our baby. Sehun, you’re going to be a father, and so am I, and it’s only four months away. I know you’re still in so much pain, but you have to try and get ready for this, because the baby is coming and it isn’t going to stop to consider your emotional well being. And this is all on us. We made the decision to sleep together and to not use protection. This is our responsibility. This is our baby.”

It was with a rare burst of courage that Sehun dared to admit, “I never thought I’d get to be that.”

“A father?”

Sehung added, “Not since …”

“Well,” Luhan said curtly, “you are. You are going to be a father. That means you and I are about to be tied together by something very important for a long time. For the rest of our lives, I mean, Sehun. You and I will be a part of each other’s lives forever because of this baby, and we don’t even know each other. We know nothing about each other.”

“So … you want to be friends?” Sehun asked, unsure.

“I want us to be friends,” Luhan confirmed. “I want us to get to know each other. We’re going to parent this baby together, even if we aren’t together. We have to be able to make decisions together, understand each other, and we have to care for each other. That starts by not being the strangers that we currently are.”

Luhan was absolutely speaking the truth, and it was dawning on Sehun that he was going to have Luhan in his life forever. He wouldn’t be waking up next to Luhan like he would have been with Jae, but they’d still spend holidays together, go to school functions together, and if there were, god Sehun hoped not, any late night emergency trips to the hospital, Sehun and Luhan would both be there. They owed it to their baby to be friends and be able to work together to be great parents.

Because that’s what Sehun was about to become. He was about to be a parent.

It still felt like a betrayal, though. It still felt he was doing wrong to the vows he’d made with Jae on their wedding day.

“You think we can do that?” Sehun wondered. “Be … friends? Be successful parents?”

“I think we have to try,” Luhan replied.

“How do we start?”

Luhan leaned over and reached for something on a nearby table, saying, “We start by promising a few things to each other.”

Sehun asked, “Like what?”

“Important things,” Luhan said. He handed the item, a sheet of glossy paper, over to Sehun.

“This is from today?” Sehun held the ultrasound picture in his hands reverently, staring down at it. The black and white shapes were almost hypnotic in their pattern. But it didn’t matter that he was a little dizzy from staring too hard. The only thing that mattered was that this was his baby and he should have been there for the doctor’s appointment.

He hadn’t missed any of Jae’s. He wouldn’t miss any more of Luhan’s.

“It is,” Luhan said simply.

“I’ll be there,” Sehun said, looking up at him sharply. “I’ll be there next time and I won’t make you go alone.”

Luhan tried to put forward a kind look. “You know I didn’t go alone. I had Xiumin with me.”

But that was the problem, maybe. This Xiumin. He shouldn’t have been there. It wasn’t Xiumin’s baby that Luhan was carrying around. It was Sehun’s. And what right did this other person have to put their hands on Sehun’s baby?

Once more, this time with conviction, Sehun made it a promise and said, “I’ll be there next time. I’ll be the one next to you when we get a new picture.”

Sehun let his finger trail over the curve of his baby’s head in the picture.

God, he was absolutely terrified. Did Luhan have a clue how petrified he was?

“--important things.”

Sehun startled a little. “Sorry.” He hefted the picture up for Luhan a little bashfully and said, “I zoned out.”

“I said,” Luhan repeated, “we have promise each other the important things.”

Sehun offered, “Like being their for each other?”

Luhan’s head dipped. “That, but also other important things, Sehun. Like honesty.” He took a deep breath and looked like he was gearing up for something huge.

“Honesty is hard,” Sehun said cautiously, thinking of all the things he had pushed down inside himself. All his secrets and fears weren’t things he was ready to share.

“Then we at least have to make an attempt at it,” Luhan decided. “And if we can’t talk about something, we have to be clear and calm about why not. I … guess I’ll start with that picture.”

“There’s something not honest about the picture?”

Luhan, with his long, slender hands, curled them around his stomach and said, “I lied. Earlier.”

Sehun glanced from Luhan’s stomach to the photo, then back again. “Is something wrong?” Was there a problem with the baby that Luhan had withheld? “Is the baby--”

Luhan blurted out, “It’s a girl.”

Girl.

Girl?

“The baby,” Luhan rushed to add. “I lied about not being able to tell the gender. It’s a girl and I didn’t want to tell you.”

Luhan had gone so pale that Sehun found himself aching to be at his side, even if he couldn’t do anything. Was Luhan feeling faint? Why would he hide …

“You were …”

“I was trying to protect your feelings,” Luhan admitted, rubbing out soothing circles on his stomach like he had on Sehun’s back not long ago. “And I was trying to protect myself, too.” He winced, still too pale for Sehun’s liking. “I was mostly trying to protect the baby.”

“From me?” Sehun asked faintly.

“Maybe from what you might not be able to help yourself from reacting like.”

“Over a gender?” Sehun asked, still so shocked. He looked once more to the ultrasound. He was no expert at deciphering them, and if Luhan hadn’t told him that it was a girl he’d have never known it.

Luhan said gingerly, “I was worried that you’d react poorly because of your daughter. The daughter that you lost. Suho told me she was everything to you. She was your entire life. So when I found out this baby was a girl, all I could think was that there was no way I could admit it. I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to replace one daughter with another, and I was terrified that you might reject the baby because she’s a girl.”

The worst part was that Sehun couldn’t even bring himself to be angry with Luhan. Because of course Luhan would have logically thought that. Sehun had given him all the signs that such a thing was possible, if not likely.

Then, against all odds, his eyes were burning once more. Then he was crying. He’d be lying if he couldn’t admit it felt good to get even more tears out, as if they’d built up against a terrible dam and were set to overflow again and again.

“I just want you to love her for her,” Luhan rushed to say, sliding down to his knees like a plea. “I want you to accept our baby, Sehun, and not compare her to the one that you lost. That was a terrible tragedy, but our baby is here. Our baby is alive and she’s going to be fine and healthy and I want you to love her just a fraction of how much I do.” Luhan braced his hands down on the ground. “You’re not replacing one baby with another. And I truly believe that your heart must be big enough to find room for our baby in there, next to your other daughter. Suho believes that you’re capable of that capacity of love, and I hope so too.”

The ultrasound picture drifted to the floor as Sehun found himself on his knees in front of Luhan. He gripped Luhan as tightly as he dared by the shoulders and helped him up, begging, “Please, Luhan. I would never--”

But Luhan was going on, “She’s going to be beautiful and perfect and so deserving of our love. You loving her is never going to take anything away from how much you love your other daughter.”

Placing both his hands on Luhan’s stomach, Sehun said to stop him, “I’ve made so many mistakes already. I’ve reacted poorly and been stubborn and given you cause to doubt me. But I’m trying now. I’m trying so hard. I’m going to love her, Luhan. I’m going to care for her and support you and I’m not going to let you down again.”

All he could imagine now was the way that Jae would have been so disappointed in him for the way he’d been behaving. Jae, who romanticized things like honor and duty and respect, and held people in high esteem even when they made mistakes, would have wanted to shake him and demand to know why he was denying a child that he’d helped create.

That was what it came down to in Sehun’s mind.

He’d been thinking about how he felt. He’d been selfishly wanting to protect himself from his own actions, as if ignoring them would simply make them go away. But now, for the first time, he was stopping to consider how Luhan felt, what their baby deserved, how Jae would have demanded he take responsibility, and how his family would ultimately celebrate a grandchild regardless of the circumstances surrounding its conception.

Her conception.

Her. It was a girl.

“A girl,” Sehun breathed out, his hands smoothing across Luhan’s stomach. “We’re going to have a girl.”

Jae would have encouraged Sehun to be a father. Even if Sehun had cheated while Jae had been alive. Even if Luhan and their baby had been a mistake made during the duration of Sehun’s marriage to Jae, Jae would never have let Sehun disavow his own child. Jae was like that. Jae would have accepted Sehun’s child with Luhan no matter the hurt associated with it, and that was a truth that Sehun knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“You’re not totally pissed?” Luhan asked, wariness in his tone.

Honesty. It was all about honesty.

“If I could choose not to have a baby right now, I would,” Sehun said, and there was no getting around that truth. “I need time to heal from losing my entire life. But since like you said, I’m going to be a father in four months no matter what, we’re going to do this Luhan. We’re going to do the best we can, for our daughter.”

It was Luhan who was crying then, falling into Sehun’s arms, weeping with relief.

The moment only made Sehun feel like a bigger ass. He must have caused Luhan so much undue stress.

“I’m probably going to suck at this so much,” Sehun confessed with a wry laugh’ “But I swear I’ll try.”

Luhan laughed and it was such a wonderful sound that Sehun could barely help himself smiling in return. “Sehun,” Luhan said between fits of giggles, “hasn’t anyone told you that there’s no handbook for this? When it comes to being a good parent, the only way you learn is by making mistakes. You’re going to suck just as much as I am, but we’re going to get better together.”

“I hope so.”

What if he messed his kid up? At least with Jae Sehun had been absolutely certain that if he messed up, Jae would be there to pick up the slack and fix things. Luhan seemed nice and funny and full of compassion, but Sehun couldn’t be sure just yet what kind of person he was.

With no small measure of relief, Luhan said, “We are going to make mistakes. And some of them might be pretty bad. But I promise you, Sehun, we’re going to get through this. We’re going to be great parents after a little trial and error.”

Open with his disbelief, Sehun wondered aloud, “How can you be so confident? How can you be so brave?”

“Oh, Sehun.” Luhan’s soft, cool fingers startled Sehun the moment they settled on the curve of his jaw. It was such a comforting gesture, full of the promise of intimacy that only parents tied together by a child they loved could share, that Sehun leaned into the touch. “You think I’m not shaking with the fear of doing wrong by our baby?”

The depth of Luhan’s brown eyes were beyond enticing to Sehun who saw more than just compassion in them now.

Sehun eased out, “You seem so brave.”

“I don’t know how else to be. For the sake of our baby.”

The fingers fell away and Sehun wanted to snatch back at them. Especially with Luhan’s cologne drifting between them and the proximity of their bodes. He was starting to realize how he’d fallen into bed with Luhan so easily. There was something alluring about his presence in a completely natural and bafflingly beautiful way.

Plus, there was something oddly comforting in now knowing that Luhan was just as terrified as Sehun felt. They could be scared together, at least for a while. And then together they could be brave.

With a loud huff, Sehun said, “So about that honesty.”

Luhan nodded. “We have to be honest with each other, because we have to learn how to trust each other. I have to be able to trust you with the baby, and you need to be able to trust me with her.”

Her.

That pronoun was still banging around in Sehun’s head. He was going to have a daughter with Luhan. There was no pushing the idea to the side or denying the facts laid out before him. He was going to have a little girl.

Nothing was going to happen this time, he told his panicked heart. The tragedy with Jae had been an accident. It had been a terrible, gut wrenching, life changing accident. But still, just an accident. Nothing was going to happen with the baby he was having with Luhan. Not this time.

“What else?” Sehun asked. He got to his feet with a small groan, legs feeling stiff, then reached down for Luhan.

“We’ll start with honesty and trust,” Luhan said with a smile. “But I hope that leads to something like loyalty and friendship.”

Sehun thought of the wrecked nursery in his house.

“Boundaries,” he told Luhan. “We should have boundaries, too.”

With a shrug, Luhan nodded. “Okay. What kind?”

“I don’t want to talk about Jae. Ever.”

Unease pulled at Luhan’s face right away. “Sehun …”

“Ever,” Sehun repeated. “You have to promise me that you won’t ask about him or the baby I had with him. You won’t go prying into things I can’t talk about.”

Tentatively, Luhan suggested, “It might help some of the emotional trauma you’re carrying around to talk about him.”

With some edginess, Sehun asked sharply, “You want trust and honesty from me, right? This is how you get both.”

“Alright,” Luhan said after some pause, but he absolutely looked like he didn’t agree with the compromise. “As long as your hurt from that accident doesn’t affect our baby, I can agree to that.”

Sehun regretted being the cause of Luhan worrying even just a bit more.

“Here, you should take a look at the file I got from the doctor today.” Luhan reached for a nearby packet of uniformly stacked and paper clipped sheets of information. “It has a lot of our baby’s information, some of mine, and some general information. You probably know a lot of it from before, but it never hurts to have a refresher. You can have these and I’ll get copies from the doctor the next time I go.”

Mouth feeling dry, Sehun asked, “What about the possibility of gestational diabetes?”

Luhan at least seemed unconcerned, or maybe just optimistic, as he told Sehun, “Each time I go to the doctor she gives me an oral test. It’s quick and painless, too. I’ve come out in the clear each time, but I suppose my numbers are worrying to her so it’s still something to watch out for. But I swear, right now, I’m in the clear.”

Sehun looked down at the top piece of paper that listed some of Luhan’s basic information and frowned. “Lu Han?” He felt his face heat. “Have I been messing up your name the entire time? Oh, shit.”

“Sehun,” Luhan laughed out, “you look like you’re going to faint. It’s fine.”

“But your name is Lu Han,” he said, feeling his anxiety level rising. “It’s Lu Han, not Luhan.” He shook his head. “Your name is Han.”

“Luhan is fine,” Luhan assured. “Luhan is the name I’ve been going by for years. It’s sort of a nickname by now. It doesn’t bother me at all, Sehun.”

“Nickname,” Sehun eased out, wondering how long he might have gone on making a fool of himself if he hadn’t realize that Lu was Luhan’s family name, and his given name was Han. “It’s a nickname.”

“Don’t some of your friends have them?” Luhan wondered. “Almost all of mine do. Nicknames are given out of affection. As long as there’s a positive connotation, I don’t see the problem.”

Suho was a nickname, Sehun reminded himself. And so was Kai. His friends did have nicknames, and they certainly were monikers that were given from affection.

“What do you want me to call you?” Sehun asked nervously. “Luhan or Han?”

“Whichever you prefer,” Luhan said calmingly. “Sehun, really, it doesn’t bother me either way. Most of my friends call me Luhan, so you can call me that if it’ll be less awkward.”

Sehun’s attention turned back to the paper and he said surprised, “You’re ethnically Chinese?”

“You couldn’t tell?” Luhan asked in a pleased way.

“No.” Sehun shook his head. “Your Korean is very good.”

Luhan confided, “I practice all the time. When I first came to Korea I was absolutely terrible, but Xiumin helped me almost from the very beginning. I took extra classes in Korean, I worked on my pronunciation, and I learned to think before I spoke always, which gave me time to figure out the proper words to use.” Luhan said bashfully, “Except for when I get angry. Then I’m lucky to even be speaking Korean.”

Sehun thought back to the first confrontation they’d had, all those weeks back when Luhan had told him he was going to be a father. Luhan had spoken Korean the whole way thought, but his pronunciation had been off, his words had been clipped, and if Sehun had really been paying attention, he probably would have been able to figure out that Luhan wasn’t native to Korea.

“Your Korean is really good,” Sehun praised again. Then he questioned, “Why’d you come to Korea?”

More importantly, Sehun realized, a sharp fear digging through his chest to his heart, was there any danger of Luhan leaving? Luhan was Chinese. He had to be in Korea under either a work visa or a school visa. Once those expired, would he take Sehun’s daughter back with him to China never to be seen again?

Decisively, Luhan said, “We should get lunch.”

Behind Luhan Sehun could see that the sun was low in the sky. It was no more than an away from being gone completely. “Lunch?”

“Not today,” Luhan blurted out, a happy smile on his face. “Obviously it’s a little late for that. But soon? I can tell you about how I came from China to Korea, and you can tell me where you work and what you like to do for fun. We have to start somewhere, right?”

They absolutely had to start building a friendship. Luhan was right about yet another thing that Sehun had barely bothered to think about.

“I have to work all day tomorrow,” Suhun said, trying to think through his work schedule. “But how about we get lunch the day after?”

Luhan replied, “I know the most amazing bistro not to far from here. Want to make it a date?”

Sehun wondered if this was what his life was going to look like ten years from now, or twenty. Would it be comprised of meeting Luhan for lunch, talking about neutral, safe subjects, and juggling between them who got the baby that weekend? Would they end up easy friends who navigated shared parental custody like old pros?

Would that really be so bad? Would getting to see Luhan and his infectious smile so frequently, be a bad thing?

“Sehun?”

Jarred back to the present, Sehun said, “You should e-mail me the address and exactly what time you want to meet. I’ll be there.”

“I believe you,” Luhan replied, and it felt like he was speaking about something more than just a lunch meeting.

Luhan walked Sehun to the door with even strides, opened it, and then followed him down to the ground level. But it was Sehun who was finding it difficult to distance himself from Luhan now, even just to go home. Luhan had a calming effect on him like Sehun hadn’t felt before, and even if feeling their baby kick had been overwhelming, Sehun now wanted to feel it once more.

“You don’t have to worry,” Luhan said, catching Sehun’s gaze on his stomach. “I’ll take good care of our baby while she’s in here. And then we’ll take better care of her once she’s born.”

But who would take care of Luhan?

Feeling gruff all of the sudden, Sehun turned on heel and called over his shoulder, “E-mail me.” Then he all but ran to his car, desperate to escape the overwhelming feelings he was suddenly experiencing.

Feelings that made no sense.

Wanting to protect their baby, Sehun understood. But wanting to protect Luhan? That was an urge that made Sehun uncomfortable, to say the least.

So for a while, despite the mound of work at home that Sehun needed to get through before the next day, Sehun instead drove around for some time. He drove until he needed to buy gas, and then he kept driving, passing the hours as he passed street lights. He drove until his eyes were heavy and he was too tired to think about the conflicting thoughts running through him.

Only then did he go home, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator then passing out on the sofa before he could drink it.

Sehun woke to the smell of eggs and bacon. It was a staunchly western smelling breakfast that Sehun had a real weakness for. Jae usually made him his favorite breakfast on Sundays, before church, almost as a reward to Sehun for going to something that Jae knew he had no interest in. Sehun usually daydreamed his way through the service, but he did his best to look interested whenever Jae turned towards him, not wanting to ruin the experience for his husband.

But it couldn’t be Jae who was making eggs and bacon.

Disoriented, Sehun sat up from the sofa, stretched out his muscles and peeked around the corner.

It was Suho’s ever faithful form at the kitchen stove that Sehun really should have expected.

“You know,” Sehun drawled, entering the kitchen, “one of these days I’m going to think you’re a burglar and tase you.”

Suho wasn’t making just eggs and bacon, Sehun realized. He was also halfway through a pancake batter of sorts and had a bowl of fresh fruit already waiting for Sehun at the place he typically sat at for meals.

“The taser that you used to keep in the lock box at the back of your closer in the master bedroom on the right side?” Suho asked lazily, nudging the griddle closer with a spatula. “That one?”

Sehun speared a piece of grapefruit with a nearby fork and frowned. “How do you … Suho, you sneak.”

“Sneak?” Suho laughed. “Hardly. I bought that taser for Jae, if you’ll remember, because he had to work those late nights at the school a couple of times a month. He told me exactly where he kept it when it wasn’t on him, and you’d better believe I moved it the second I realized you were mad enough at me to use it.”

Sehun had practically forgotten about that, Luhan serving as an ample distraction.

“I should kick you out for that. I should tell your mom and let her beat some sense into you.”

“Eat,” Suho merely said, dropping a plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes to the spot in front of him. “Then we can talk.”

Sehun stuffed fluffy, delicious pancakes into his mouth and said, “You apologize. I’ll decide if I want to listen.”

Suho sat across from him, folded his hands on the table top and asked, “Things went okay with Luhan? He’s fine?”

Sehun glared, but then he thought of the agreement he’d reached with Luhan, the new ultrasound picture he had, and the knowledge of what they were having.

“It’s a girl.”

Confusion crossed Suho’s face, followed by recognition, then disappointment.

Sudden anger spiked through Sehun and he demanded, “Did you tell Luhan not to tell me we’re having a girl?”

Immediately Suho denied it, stating, “Of course not.” But then he stopped and said, “I might have mentioned how I hoped the baby was a boy. For obvious reasons.”

Sehun ground out lowly, “Stop saying things you shouldn’t Suho. Stop ruining things.”

Suho’s shoulders fell. “I’m really not trying to. I only want to help. Sehun, I’m not attempting to ruin things for you with Luhan or that baby of yours. I just want you to take responsibility, and accept that you’re still deserving of good things, and that nothing that’s happened to Jae is your fault. You can stop blaming yourself. You can move on. You can keep living and that isn’t a betrayal. That’s in fact the highest honor you can pay my brother, who would have only wanted your happiness.”

It was hard to stay mad at Suho. It had always kind of been that way. Even in the beginning when Sehun had tried to hold a grudge against the man who’d done everything in his power to keep Sehun away from Jae, Sehun had found it hard to stay made at Suho. And it came down to the fact that Suho was a genuinely nice, selfless person. He never acted to hurt anyone, and he really was too generous for his own good.

Suho hadn’t told Luhan things about Jae to hurt Sehun. He’d said something in an attempt to mend the fragile link between Sehun and Luhan. He’d only done his best to help.

“Luhan and I,” Sehun said slowly, meeting Suho’s gaze, “are going to make a go of it.” He winced at his wording, theb clarified, “We’re going to do our best to be good parents to our daughter. We’re going to work together. We’re going to give it everything we have.”

Suho cracked the tiniest of hopeful smiles. “You’re really having a girl?”

Sehun shoveled eggs into his mouth to buy himself some extra time. He gave a jerky nod.

Leaning an elbow up on the table, Suho asked, “Are you okay with that? Are you okay with this new baby being a girl?”

“Don’t I have to be?” Sehun chuckled out. “I guess it’s just something I have to accept. It’s something I have to take responsibility for. It’s a girl and there’s no changing that, no matter how having a boy might have lessoned the pain.”

“Luhan is a good man, Sehun.”

With a frown, Sehun stated, “Because you’ve known him for so long?”

“No.” Suho shook his head. “Because I could see it in him when I told him about you and Jae. When I told him about the accident, he desperately wanted to protect his baby from how easily you could hurt them because of how you’re hurting. But he also wanted to believe me when I told him you’re a good man, too, and you only need a little time and effort to get back to where you were.”

“You just want me to forget about Jae? You want me to try and replace Luhan with him?”

“Not at all,” Suho snorted, almost seeming offended by the notion.

“I just want you to know that I believe your heart is more than big enough to love more than one daughter, and the one you have with Luhan now is deserving of love. You’re certainly damaged, Sehun, but you’re not beyond repair. Loving that baby who’s coming in a couple of months is something that I think will help you, and no matter what, there’s no replacing of any kind going on here.”

With some reluctance, Sehun admitted, “That’s what it feels like at time. I feel like I’m betrayed Jae and replacing the family I had.” He hung his head, feeling in some part as well that he was betraying Suho who’d been tough to win over.

Suho reached across the table to steal a piece of Sehun’s bacon. “I honestly don’t know how to convince you otherwise. That’s probably something only you can figure out. But I swear to you, and I knew my brother better than anyone else in this world, that this is what he would want for you. He only ever wanted you to be happy and to have people in your life who love you. He would want you to take this opportunity with Luhan. He would see Luhan and the baby as a second chance, and a way to mend the hole in your heart. Trust me, Sehun. Jae would want this for you.”

“Probably,” Sehun said, poking at his eggs. “He would want it for me. I guess I’m just figuring out if I want this for me. I think I do. I just … it’s a work in progress.”

Suho’s head cocked. “Well, no pressure or anything, but you’re going to have to figure it out quick. That baby is on the way, Sehun. She’s going to be here quicker than you think, and you deserve her as much as she deserves you. Let yourself have something for once. Let yourself be deserving.”

If only Suho knew how much Sehun wanted to be deserving. Especially of Luhan and the life he carried. If only.

Chapter Text

A few days later when Luhan stepped down from the bus that had delivered him almost right to the coffee shop’s doorstep, it was the first time in weeks that the heat hadn’t bothered him. It was possible, however, that his excitement for his upcoming meeting with Sehun was masking the nearly unbearable heat, but Luhan preferred to think he was getting used to it.

However, fanning himself with a hand, he pulled open the door to the coffee shop and was thankful for the blast of cool air that hit him all the same. Kris had promised to see if he could get the ventilation system worked out so that some of the cool air went up to his apartment, but Luhan thought that might qualify as taking advantage of his friendship with Kris.

Luhan was very aware that he had exceptionally generous friends. Xiumin supported him without having to be asked, and drove him wherever he needed to go so he only had to take the bus infrequently. Kris wasn’t charging him nearly what he probably should have for rent, and Lay who lived in the apartment underneath Luhan, was constantly delivering him food and wonderfully prepared meals that helped supplement Luhan’s growing hunger but small income. Then there was Tao, who by all accounts probably should have been an immature kid still, barely out of high school. But instead the self proclaimed uncle for Luhan’s baby (something that Luhan wasn’t really going to fight him on) had already gone far above and beyond with starting Luhan out with the first of the essential baby items he needed. Tao seemed a little addicted, honestly, to buying Luhan baby clothes and baby toys, but who was Luhan to tell him no? Especially with Tao’s inattentive but wealthy parents compensating their absence with money.

It made Luhan a little uncomfortable at times, however. He felt like his friends, the ones he was the closest with, gave so much to him, and he had so little to give back.

He was so thankful for them, especially since he’d made the break from his parents and their support. He wasn’t sure he could have made it without them.

Luhan maneuvered his way through the packed coffee house with some ease. His stomach had ballooned out in the past few weeks, pushing him past the stage where he simply looked like he’d put on a little extra weight, and clearly into the obviously pregnant category. It had happened just gradually enough that he was more than experienced with moving his stomach along, figuring out where he could squeeze into, and where he had to politely ask people to move. Crowded spaces were still his least favorite place to be, but he’d also gotten past the dizziness that had plagued him for so long, so he wasn’t diving head first into people anymore, either.

Continuing on the lucky streak that Luhan felt he was having, his favorite barista was at the cash register when Luhan got there. And after a moment more, the line thinned out and Luhan was able to place his order.

Bomi, who liked to tell Luhan how much he reminded her of her little brother, and doted on him continuously, put his order in without having to ask him, but made sure to clarify, “Decalf on that latte, right?”

Luhan gave a nod. “From now on out, I suppose.”

She gave him a wink, put his name down on the cup and passed it off to her coworker. “How about I try to lesson that blow to your caffeine addiction with a piece of pumpkin bread? It’s fresh.”

“When I get to have my usual, I’m coming to you first thing.”

He handed her his card, noticing almost immediately that she hadn’t charged him for the pumpkin bread, and then slipped her a tip that she made a face at. But he wouldn’t take it back no matter what. She’d always been kind to him, and Luhan never forgot to be grateful for those sorts of things.

“Here you go,” she said, handing it to him just a few short minutes later. She’d put the iced latte in a protective slip as the glass sweated in the form of condensation, and added, “Your friends are right over there.”

Luhan turned, eyes sweeping through the packed shop. It took him a few minutes to spot the group of people who were more family than friends. The four of them were occupying a table in the corner, chairs pulled in close as their heads pressed together.

Eyes narrowing, Luhan was suspicious immaturely.

“Thanks, Bomi,” Luhan said, giving her a wave, and then made his way deliberately to the table.

“Luhan!” Tao said, the first to spot him. He gave up his chair immediately, going off to find another to use.

“What are you all doing?” Luhan asked, seating himself carefully. His ankles had been aching as of late, and taking the extra weight he was carrying around off them was a relief.

Lay wondered, “I thought you would be out all day.”

That only served to make Luhan more suspicious. “I was meeting with a client early this morning. But the rest of my schedule was shifted around a little. I have a few hours before I need to go back out again.”

He and Sehun had made lunch plans, but still so fresh in Luhan’s mind was the moment Sehun’s e-mail had come in, asking for a reschedule. He claimed he’d been backed up at work and unable to get away for even a lunch break. But, and despite the plain text seemingly giving nothing away, Luhan swore he could detect the regret in the message. Sehun had sent him a message that seemed regretful, and almost pleading for Luhan to understand.

So instead of just letting Sehun cancel, and scrubbing the whole thing, Luhan had proposed dinner. A dinner date was a bit more weighty than a lunch one, but Sehun had accepted almost right away, and the pressure had eased from Luhan.

“What are you guys talking about?” Luhan asked, searching the faces in front of him. Kris looked as impassive as ever, but Lay was not meeting Luhan’s eyes, and Xiumin’s body language was more than a little defensive.

When Tao returned to the table, chair in hand, Luhan only had to look sharply at him before Tao was saying, “Xiumin said your baby’s father came by the other day! Lay saw him too!”

Kris rolled his eyes and sighed. “Way to go, big mouth.”

Tao put his chair deliberately next to Luhan’s and said firmly, “It’s not like I’m anyone’s secret keeper here.”

Luhan crossed his ankles under the table and sipped at his latte. “You’re all talking about Sehun?”

Xiumin was the one who spoke up, saying, “I thought the others should know who might be nosing around here from time to time.”

“He’s not a threat,” Luhan said. “It’s not like we should keep the police nearby in case.”

“No,” Xiumin agreed, and he still looked upset from his encounter with Sehun, “I don’t think he’s the type to hurt you physically. I mean, I don’t know him, so it’s possible, but I did see the way he reacted when you almost fell on your face. He was terrified. He’s not a threat to you physically. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Wait.” Kris leaned forward. “When did you fall?”

“Are you okay?” Lay demanded, reaching for him.

“I’m fine,” Luhan said, maybe even a little snappishly. “I was light headed, and I’m fine now. Really.” Luhan turned back to Xiumin. “Why do you dislike Sehun so much?”

Xiumin replied, “Because he was an asshole to my best friend?”

“Why did he come by? Lay said he stayed for a while,” Tao said, cutting through the tension that had cropped up around them.

“How do you know that?” Luhan asked, enjoying the sweet coffee that was a treat after being up and moving around for the better part of the morning. He’d missed breakfast, even, and the lunch he’d managed to grab on the way wasn’t fulfilling. He was afraid he was going to look like a pig later that night when he ate with Sehun, but it was a worry that he was starting to care less and less about the more hungry he grew.

Lay posed, “You do realize that I can hear the second anyone is in the stairwell that connects our apartments with the downstairs, right? I heard someone going up almost right away, and since I didn’t think you were expecting company, I checked to see who it was.”

But still …

Luhan shook his head. “But how did you know it was Sehun?” Had Lay overheard the argument that had happened just after Xiumin had opened the door?

“A stranger is responsible for my friend being pregnant,” Lay said slowly, “refuses to take responsibility for his child, and poses a threat to said friend’s happiness, and you think I’m not going to find out who he is and what he looks like? I’ve been keeping an eye on him, making sure he doesn’t cause trouble for you or the baby.”

Luhan’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Lay, who was unassuming and generally unthreatening, looked absolutely deadly in that moment as he said, “I wanted to be prepared. Just in case. And frankly Tao’s method would have been too obvious.”

“My method?” Tao questioned. He huffed, “I just wanted to destroy some of his property, then maybe drag him out of his house by his hair and set him on fire. What’s too obvious about that?”

Lay put a comforting hand on Tao’s shoulder and said, “Subtly is something you’ll learn, Tao.”

Xiumin chuckled, “Subtly in the form of a body bag?”

“Are we ruling that out now?” Kris asked.

Luhan cleared his throat loudly. “Can you all calm down?”

Tao shrugged. “Okay, but why was that guy at your place?”

Luhan wondered briefly how much was right to say. What he had with Sehun was new and fragile, and he wanted to protect it, even from his friends. But his friends had been there for him before Sehun, and supported him when it looked like Sehun wasn’t going to. They deserved to know at least something.

“We’ve been e-mailing,” Luhan said, trying to gauge the reactions from his friends. “There is a lot I can’t tell any of you, things that are Sehun’s to share with who he chooses, but the fact remains, this isn’t just the case of a man not wanting to be a father. I think maybe what happened with Sehun in the beginning was just a combination of his trauma, and bad timing, and just the both of us mishandling the situation. But we’re working on that.”

Softly, Lay asked, “Trauma?”

Luhan said firmly, “I mean it when I say it’s his business. It’s a delicate nature. But I will say that he’s suffered a great loss, the kind of a loss that would break a weaker man. And when I really think about it, the effort Sehun is showing is currently is something incredible and maybe even inspiring. My point is, he is showing improvement. He is making an effort. He’s willing to try with me to be good parents to this baby, and that’s all I can ask for from him.”

Xiumin wondered, “Does this have something to do with that other guy?”

“Suho?”

Putting his hands flat on the table, Luhan said, “Suho isn’t important here. Sehun is. He was at my apartment because he was worried I hadn’t e-mailed him about my appointment. He thought something was wrong, so he came to make sure the baby and I were okay. That’s all. And all of you might start getting used to the idea of seeing him around. If all goes well, he’s going to ease into the idea of being a father over the coming months.”

Luhan hadn’t realized until that moment how much he wanted his friends to approve of Sehun. He wanted them to accept him. He almost needed them to. Because Luhan sincerely hoped that his little girl would grow up with two fathers, next to all her uncles, and wouldn’t it be better if everyone got along?

Kris asked, drawing Luhan’s attention, “You believe him when he says he wants to be a part of this baby’s life?”

Kris didn’t look convinced, and Luhan couldn’t help thinking of the stack of paperwork in his apartment that would take parental custody and rights from Sehun.

“I think he’ll try,” Luhan said. “I think he’ll do his best now. That’s enough for me at the moment . The baby hasn’t even been born yet. I’m the only one who’ll be disappointed if he can’t follow through.”

“I’m going to get another drink,” Xiumin said, chair scraping back as he stood abruptly. “I’ll be back.”

Unsure, Tao guessed, “I think he’s mad.”

“Yes,” Lay agreed, “and I think that’s what he’s worried about, Luhan. In regard to Sehun.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Lay said, apparently willing to drop the subject. “Have you got any plans later tonight? We could see a movie.”

Kris leaned his chair back with a bored expression on his face. “You need a girlfriend or boyfriend, Lay. I keep telling you, I’ll hook you up with this guy I know. Or hey, he’s got a pretty hot sister if that’s more what you’re into.” He settled his chair down and asked curiously, “What do you prefer?”

Luhan laughed loudly as Lay flicked Kris deliberately on the ear. “That’s none of your business, and additionally it’s not at all relevant to who I am as a person. Nor do I need your help.”

“Leave him alone,” Luhan added, even though he knew Lay absolutely had the situation under control. “Lay deserves to spend the next couple of years doing what he wants and enjoying himself.” Before long Luhan knew he had to go back to China and work a job he had little interest in, and marry the person his parents chose for him. Lay’s traditional family gave no room for compromise there.

“So?” Lay asked, turning back to Luhan. “A movie?”

Luhan tried to look as disappointed as he imagined he’d really feel, if it wasn’t Sehun who was going to occupy his evening instead. “I’m going out to dinner with a friend tonight.”

Xiumin was on his way back to their table, a coffee in one hand a water in the other, when Tao asked, “Which friend?”

Tao was so nosey Luhan could have kicked him under the table as Xiumin put the glass of water in front of Luhan and said, “Here. The doctor said to drink more water. Just because coffee is made with water, doesn’t mean it counts.”

Luhan knew he was forgiven by the action. Xiumin was forgiving him for daring to hope with Sehun, and not just cutting him out of his life completely.

“I’m going to dinner with Sehun tonight,” Luhan said, making his voice nonchalant. “We decided that if we’re going to be co-parents, and if we’re going to be successful in that, we have to get to know each other. We need to be friends. So we’re going to spend the next few months doing that.”

“Dinner,” Kris said suspiciously. “That doesn’t seem like a friendly thing.”

Luhan turned to Lay and asked, “Can you flick him again for me.” Then he sighed and said, “Sehun and I wanted to get lunch today, but he was swamped at work. And because I have a much more flexible schedule than him, we decided to turn lunch into dinner. It’s just a friendly dinner. It’s not like we can go for drinks instead, and the things we’re going to talk about aren’t suited for a more social setting. Now stop making that face, it’s for our baby, and not for any other reason.”

He absolutely ignored the little, tiny part of him that was very aware of how handsome Sehun was. And their lovemaking, for what Luhan had remembered, had been full of passion and pleasure and unlike any of the other times Luhan had gone to bed with someone. Luhan knew next to nothing about Sehun, other than his tragic past, but that didn’t seem to matter in terms of how aesthetically pleasing Sehun was.

Nothing would come of it, Luhan understood. He wasn’t looking to begin a relationship with anyone, let alone Sehun, when there was a baby to consider. And the last thing Sehun probably wanted to do, while he was still grieving for his family, was invest emotionally in anyone.

But the thoughts were there, lingering at the back of Luhan’s mind, reminding him that Sehun was attractive and seemingly earnest, and brave even when he thought he wasn’t.

“Do you need a ride there?” Xiumin asked.

Luhan wasn’t fooled for a second by his offer. “So you can think up an excuse to come in with me, and then hover over me being irritated and irritating Sehun?”

Xiumin replied, “More like so you don’t have to walk, actually. Or take the bus.”

Under the table Luhan let his knee nudge Xiumin’s. “Thanks. But it’s right around the corner from here, and I’m going to go rest for a while, so I’ll be fine to walk.”

“Alright,” Kris announced, “enough of this. Xiumin, weren’t you saying something earlier about your sister’s good for nothing boyfriend finally popping the question?”

“What?” Luhan asked excitedly. “She’s getting married?”

Xiumin gave a resolved look. “She did say yes, and our parents approved, so it looks like it’s happening.”

“Tell us everything,” Tao said, excitedly leaning forward. “I love weddings. “

“Of course you do,” Kris remarked.

Lay’s fingers rose in a flicking threat, but made sure to tell Tao, “I do too. Xiumin, tell us about the guy she’s been seeing. What’s he do for a living?”

Xiumin supplied, “He’s a photojournalist. My parents like that he’s traveled a lot, which means they think he’s way more likely to be ready to settle down and start a family. They’re thrilled, to say the least.”

Luhan took anther drink from his coffee and savored it, even with the lack of caffeine. His friends were shooting off questioned rapidly to Xiumin about his sister’s elusive boyfriend. That meant, at least for the time being, that all attention was away from Sehun, and that was a relief.

An hour later, with the coffee gone and Luhan’s friends starting to trickle out of the coffee house, he headed up the stairs to his apartment.

When he entered the first thing he did was kick off his shoes and do a quick sweep of the apartment, picking up the bit of cleaning he hadn’t gotten to the day before, then finishing the last of the dishes. He’d always found cleaning to be soothing, and liked to keep his home in a uniformed, neat manner.

Afterwards the only thing left to do was to flip on the television, set the volume low, and then go through the mail.

There were a couple of junk items that were quickly tossed to the side, a bill, and a letter postmarked from China.

Luhan would have recognized his mother’s handwriting anywhere. Even the simple print of characters on the envelope face reeked of her, and of how much she detested electronic correspondence.

This letter, he determined, was from his parents. It had to be.

But why would they be writing him? When he’d told them that he was staying in Korea, and not coming home, poised to do what he wanted for the first time in his life and try to hone himself as an artist, his father had refused to say a word to him. His mother, on the other had, had been firm and downright acidic when she’d told him that if he hung up the phone there’d be no more monetary assistance from them, and no more communication.

In a fit of defiance, more so than when he’d slammed the phone down, Luhan had blocked his father’s e-mail address from being able to contact him. He’d even contemplated moving, just so his parents wouldn’t know where he lived. He’d always known they’d likely never contact him again, but he’d wanted to put as much distance between them and himself as possible.

Therefore it was … unsettling to have a letter in his hands from them now.

He wasn’t really sure how long he sat there, the letter in his hands, but it must have been quite some time, because by the time he’d made up his mind what to do, his stomach was rumbling painfully.

A sharp look to the clock said he was going to be in danger of being late to meet Sehun if he didn’t hurry.

Luhan spared only one last look to the letter, the contents of which were probably a hand written letter of disappointment and unhappiness from his mother, and dumped it in the garbage. He wouldn’t dignify the letter with a response. He wouldn’t even open it. His parents needed to know that he was serious about wanting to be his own man, and no amount of complaining on their end would get him to change his mind.

His only reluctance came in the form of the daughter he was set to hold in his arms in only a few months.

Lay had told Luhan, in a way that had sounded condescending at the time, but less so now, that Luhan was their only child. He was their only chance at grandchildren, and they didn’t even know that they were well on their way to that.

But did they actually deserve to know that Luhan was going to be a father?

There was a significant amount of fear in Luhan that they would turn their attentions from Luhan to his child if they found out. And it wasn’t that Luhan believed that they didn’t love him. Luhan was absolutely certain his parents loved him. But they wanted for him things he didn’t want for himself, and their love seemed almost conditional at times, and judgmental at others. What kind of a father would Luhan be if he exposed his baby to people who would put undue pressure on her from a young age?

… or would it be different for her? Would they love her unconditionally? Would they shower her with praise and open affection and support whatever she wanted? Would they be so thankful to have her as they aged, that their wants might become less and less important?

Luhan couldn’t say for sure either way. He only knew that at the moment, he wasn’t ready to let them back into his life. He’d only just grown strong enough to stand on his own, and support himself, and become an adult. He needed more for himself before he made any attempt with them again.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, peering down at the letter in the garbage bin one more time.

He had just enough time for a quick shower, to restyle his hair, and then change into more dinner appropriate clothes. Then he was flying out the door, keys and wallet in hand, more excited to see Sehun than he probably should have been.

His daughter, one who deserved a name soon and most certainly before she was born, delivered a precise kick to his kidney that indicated she was excited too. Luhan couldn’t blame her.

Sehun was already there when Luhan arrived, seated at the table with his phone in hand, his attention full focused on the device.

“I’m sorry,” Luhan said a little breathless as he approached the table, unable to tear himself away from how suave and debonair Sehun looked. The other man had slicked his hair back, wore a dark blue blazer, and smelled wonderful. “I lost track of time.”

“You’re not that late,” Sehun said, face lighting at the sight of Luhan. “I was just checking in on work, anyway. I really hope you bought my excuse about having to cancel lunch for work. It was true.”

Sehun helped Luhan down into his chair with a firm grip. On any other occasion Luhan might have been irritated that Sehun was treating him so gently, or as if he needed assistance, but honestly, Luhan appreciated it. The short walk from his apartment to the restaurant hadn’t seemed too taxing before, but Luhan’s feet were aching now. He didn’t even want to think about the walk back.

“I believed you,” Luhan said, and it was the truth. “But it might help if I knew what you did for a living.”

Sehun sat back in his own seat and answered without hesitation, “I’m in graphic design.”

Luhan felt his chest seize up a little. “You’re an artist?”

“Sort of, I guess,” Sehun laughed. “My friend is a web designer, and we usually work as a team developing, designing, and then presenting to our clients. We work at a marketing firm and it’s our job to sell our clients our visual services so that they can sell their physical ones to the public.”

“I’m impressed,” Luhan said. “You don’t really strike me as an artist.”

“I just like the freedom,” Sehun confessed, “and not so much the creative aspect. When I take on a job, there are always a set of parameters to follow, but what I produce is up to me, and it can be anything. That sort of freedom is intoxicating … and maybe pressuring, but ultimately worth it.”

Now that Luhan looked at him, he could kind of see it. The faint lines starting to crease on Sehun’s forehead, the intense look to his eyes, and the rare expression of inspiration that Luhan could see were all indicative of an artist.

“What about you?”

“Me?” Luhan asked. A little bashfully he said, “I’m an artist too. I mostly paint, but I’ve dabbled in constructed art and performance art.”

An appreciative look crossed Sehun’s face. “So while I’m a sort of artist, you’re the real deal?”

Luhan waved him off taking a drink from the glass of water in front of him. “Just because I put paint on a canvass doesn’t make me any more an artist than it does you for putting it online or on a TV. It isn’t like I’ve got my own gallery, or I’m selling my work for millions of won a piece.”

Sehun leaned forward, interested. “Then what are you doing?”

Luhan gestured down to his stomach. “Believe it or not, I’m making use of this. Xiumin’s sister, she’s my doctor, got me a job painting a mural in the pediatrics ward of a hospital. One of the doctors really liked my art, referred me to a family member, and now I’m doing nurseries for other people. You know, it’s actually really nice. I get to go and meet all these people who are having babies and I get to see what they envision for the room their children are going to sleep in. Then I make that dream a reality. It’s pretty fulfilling.”

“Is that okay?” Sehun asked sharply. “Should you be around those paint fumes?”

With a waiter heading their way, menus in hand, Luhan assured him quickly, “I’m taking all the necessary safety precautions, and when I’m in my third trimester, I won’t be doing any actual painting until the baby is born. You don’t have to worry, Sehun. I won’t let anything hurt our baby.”

Luhan couldn’t get a read on Sehun for the next few seconds as the man accepted a menu and then gazed intently on it, not saying much.

Luhan ended up ordering more than he’d planned to, but when he went to explain himself, Sehun surprised him by saying, “That’s all? It’s okay, we’ll get double desert.” And then at Luhan’s expression, he added, “You’re eating for two, right? You should eat as much as you want, then.”

There were all sorts of reason why he shouldn’t eat whatever he want, including the warning of high blood pressure and his wavering blood sugar levels, but Luhan was pleased and intended to take Sehun up on idea.

“So,” Sehun offered, barely waiting for the waiter to go, “tell me how you ended up in South Korea? You’re Chinese. Why leave your mother country?”

Talking to Sehun was different, Luhan discovered, then talking to any of his close friends. He had an innate sense of intimacy with his friends that made him trust them with whatever he said, but talking with Sehun who was practically a stranger was freeing. He was a little scared to say the wrong thing, or offend Sehun in some way, but the other man’s encouraging smile was like fuel to Luhan.

“My parents wanted me to … diversify,” Luhan settled on saying, “They really wanted me to go to college outside of China and gain experience to go with my education. I picked South Korea because I knew my parents had all kinds of business associates and connections in Japan, which is where they were pressing for. I wanted away from that immediately. So it was South Korea or North America, and they liked the idea of The United States or Canada even less than Korea.”

“It sounds like you didn’t appreciate them trying to control you or perpetrate any kind of nepotism.”

Luhan gave him a perplexed look. This was probably the first time anyone had ever guessed his reasoning for coming to South Korea right from the start.

“Am I wrong?” Sehun asked anxiously.

Luhan shook his head right away. “No, no. You’re absolutely right. I came here because I wanted to be independent, and either sink or swim on my own. My parents let me come because they thought it might toughen me up, and because I promised to study whatever they wanted me to.”

Sehun leaned an elbow up on the table and gave a boyish kind of grin, one that made him seem young and even more handsome. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that they endorsed you becoming an artist?”

With a hearty laugh, Luhan said, “Absolutely no way. But I didn’t exactly tell them. They knew that I was keeping my grades up, staying out of trouble, and that I’d made friends with a couple of Chinese students who were studying business, and that made them happy enough not to pry. I came home during all my breaks, I was respectful and dutiful, and in return I was able to make it almost all the way to graduation before they found out.”

With their dinner, which came not too long after, Sehun had tea the same as Luhan, and said definitively, “If you can’t drink right now, then I won’t drink around you either.”

It was endearing, to say the least.

Luhan continued their conversation by saying, “When I told them I was going to be an artist, they pretty much freaked out. They demanded that I come home right away, stop acting foolish, and beg for their forgiveness. I did none of that. They don’t even know I’m pregnant right now, and god knows how they’d react if they did.”

There was a nervous tick to Sehun’s expression. It was something Luhan couldn’t quite pin down.

“Sehun?”

“Are you …” Sehun broke off, pushing a fork around on his plate.

Luhan told him, “You can ask me anything, you know.”

Finally, after drinking down some tea, Sehun asked, “Are you going back to China?” He rushed to add, “Any time in the near future, I mean. Are you here on a work visa? Are you in any danger of being deported? Or do you want to go back to China? Or--”

“Sehun,” Luhan said, cutting him of before he could ramble any more. “I don’t have any plans to return to China any time soon.”

There was a clear, obvious release of air from Sehun who’s shoulders fell.

That had been fear Luhan had seen before. That had been what he’d seen so raw and open on Sehun’s face, and Luhan felt absolutely wretched. Sehun had already lost a baby. And though Luhan leaving he country with their daughter wasn’t nearly the same as Sehun’s husband dying before he could give birth, they were still both losses.

Luhan pressed, “I’m not even sure if my parents would welcome me back, and aside from them, there’s not much tying me to China. I love that country, it’s where I grew up, and it’s a culture I absolutely want to pass on to our baby. But this is my home now. This is where I work and live. And yes, I have a work visa, but no, I’m not in any danger of being deported.”

“I’m sorry to be so abrupt like that,” Sehun said, an apology laced through his words.

“It’s okay,” Luhan said, hoping Sehun believed him. “I’m not going anywhere. And Sehun, don’t forget, you’re Korean. That means our baby is half Korean, and as much as I want our baby to love China and learn all about it, I want the same thing for the part of her that is Korean. I want her to learn the language, love the people, and know that her Korean father is just as important as her Chinese one. Do you understand what I’m saying.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sehun nodded.

Luhan corrected, “No, what I’m saying is that if you commit to this baby, she’s committing to you. And I won’t steal her from you, not like you’ve been stolen from before.”

Luhan swore when Sehun smiled back at him, Luhan knew he was believed.

The best part of the dinner, as far as Luhan was concerned, was finding out that Sehun was more than just a pretty face. He was incredibly intelligent, funny, and even if he was a touch sarcastic, he was also honest. He was the kind of person that was easy to open up to, and easy to trust. If this was what Sehun had been like before the accident, even a little, Luhan could imagine how brightly Sehun had shined.

“I want to apologize for Xiumin,” Luhan found himself saying as the dinner was winding down. The food had been incredible, and between the two of them they were sharing three different deserts that Luhan knew his doctor probably wouldn’t approve of. That made them taste all the better to him. “He’s a very good friend who just doesn’t like seeing people he cares about hurt.”

Sehun inferred, after a bite of dolce ice cream, “He thinks I’m going to hurt you.”

A little curtly, Luhan said, “I think that remains to be seen.”

At Sehun’s slow, pained nod, Luhan regretted his words.

“He seems like he’s more than just protective of you,” Sehun said.

Luhan arched an eyebrow. “We’re not dating, if that’s what you think. I already told you, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“I think he wants to be.”

There was the tick again from Sehun, but this time it was even harder to make out.

“You’re wrong,” Luhan ground out, feeling unhappy for the first time that night. “We’re like brothers. Don’t you have someone in your life that you’re that close to? Someone that would do anything to protect you, anything to make you happy, and love you? Xiumin was the first person I befriended when I came here, and he’s the one who taught me Korean more than anyone else. He helped me deal with my parents when I wouldn’t have been able to do it by myself, he introduced me to the people I call family now, and there is absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for him. He is my brother as far as I’m concerned, Sehun, and I know he feels the same way. Xiumin doesn’t have feeling for me, not like that.”

Sehun asked, “Are you absolutely sure? Or is that just what he’s told you?”

“I really don’t want to have this conversation with you,” Luhan said, the chocolate cake in front of him looking less appetizing all the faster.

“I’m not trying to upset you,” Sehun said with a sigh. “I just think that he looks at you in a way that isn’t brotherly at all, you just can’t see it.”

That wasn’t true. And it wasn’t fair for Sehun to make a claim like that. He didn’t even know Xiumin. He didn’t know the things that they’d been through together, or how they’d relied on each other in the way that family did. Sehun didn’t know anything.

“It’s getting late,” Luhan replied. “I think I should go home now. I have to get up early tomorrow for work, but I did enjoy myself tonight. I just think I should go rest now.”

Sehun reached for the bill, snatching it before Luhan could even think twice, and said, “I upset you. I’m really sorry.”

“I am just tired.” Luhan couldn’t wait to get home and go to bed.

“Did you drive here?” Sehun asked, pulling out his wallet. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Luhan shook his head, getting to his feet and preparing to go back out into the humid heat. “I walked. Don’t worry, it’s not that far from here. I’ll be fine.”

Sehun went pale like a ghost and said, “Absolutely not. You’re not walking.”

Slowly, Luhan said, “I walked here.”

“No,” Sehun said, and was hearing nothing of it. That was how Luhan ended up in Sehun’s car, hands fisted into the fabric of his pants as he endured the short but awkward trip to his home.

“I’m sorry,” Sehun said once more before Luhan could get out of the car. “I should have kept my mouth shut. I’m really sorry. I didn’t meant to ruin anything.”

The words gave Luhan actual pause, and made him want to comfort Sehun who looked moments away from being wet in the eyes.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Luhan said. “You made an honest mistake and I’m not angry. You didn’t ruin anything, Sehun. I’m not going to run away and never come back. Okay?”

After a pause, Sehun finally said, “Okay.”

After a bit of thought, Luhan said, “I plan to be in your life for a long time, and I hope you plan to be in mine.”

“That’s the plan,” Sehun said a little shakily.

Luhan thumbed towards the coffee shop that was closed now, only a couple of workers inside cleaning up for the night. “You should come here and get coffee sometime. My best friends hang out here almost every second they’re not at school or work. And maybe you could bring your best friends, then we could be one step closer to making sure that our lives fit together, no matter how oddly.”

Sehun asked, “You want our friends to be friends, too?”

“Why not?” Luhan shrugged. “My friends are already calling uncle dibs. Aren’t yours?”

The awkward, guilty look told Luhan that … that Sehun hadn’t even told his friends about the baby. They didn’t know about Luhan and Sehun’s daughter. It was looking more and more like Luhan was a dirty little secret of some kind. Had Sehun ever planned to tell his friends about the baby?

“Look, it was just an idea,” Luhan said, popping the door open.

“Wait!” Sehun called after him.

Luhan said again, “It was just a stupid idea. I’ll e-mail you.” He gave a short wave, ignored how Sehun was calling after him, then headed directly to the stairs on the side of the building.

He’d been stupid to think that Sehun was ready to make progress as fast as Luhan wanted. He’d been even stupider to think that Sehun wanted to share their baby with anyone.

Was he pushing? Was he wanting too much too fast?

As Luhan climbed into bed, flopping down with a groan, he wasn’t sure about anything. Maybe he and Sehun had made progress tonight. It had sort of started to feel that way in the beginning. Or maybe they’d made things worse. Unfortunately that seemed a possibility as well.

It was just too soon to tell either way.

Chapter Text

“The look on your face.”

Sehun looked quickly towards Chen, unsure of what he’d just heard. “My face? What about it?” He realized in that second that he was gripping the steering wheel of his parked car much too tightly, his anxiety bleeding through easily.

Chen rolled his eyes. “Not your face, Sehun. The look on it. I know that look. You’re about to tell me something I don’t want to hear.”

That much was true, and Sehun was terrified.

But Luhan’s words less than a week ago, and more importantly the look of pain on his face when he’d realized something that not even Sehun had, were motivation enough to bring him to where he was at the moment.

He absolutely hadn’t been hiding Luhan away like a dirty little secret. At least not since he’d retrieved his balls and stopped denying the fact that he’d made a mistake that night at the bar, but that yes he very much was going to be a father. At least he hadn’t been doing it on purpose.

It was just that the idea of accepting the baby that Luhan was carrying around, was something so new and so delicate that Sehun wasn’t sure who he could trust with the information. It was likely a miracle that Suho had reacted so favorably, and while Kai was currently unhappy with Sehun, he wasn’t unhappy with the idea of the baby. But how would the others react? How would friends who had known Jae for so long and loved him and been his friend for years, take the news that Sehun had gone and gotten someone pregnant on the night of Jae’s funeral?

Still, Luhan’s words. His words had been eating away at Sehun no mater how Luhan had tried to brush them off, and regardless of how his e-mails had kept coming at a steady rate with no anger or obvious hurt in them.

Sehun didn’t need to hear the words from Luhan. He’d seen everything he needed to on Luhan’s face.

Now he was determined to set things right. He was determined to do right not only by his daughter, but by Luhan as well. Sehun was aiming to be a better man than he had been at the start, and maybe, just maybe, like the man he’d been before Jae’s death.

He was going to try at the very least.

“I’ve got to tell you something,” Sehun admitted, gazing out at the coffee shop. The day was mostly over and the sun wasn’t too far off from setting, meaning Sehun could see perfectly inside. Luhan was in there, and had been for quite some time, off to the side and supervising something to do with the art on the wall in the shop.

“Okay,” Chen eased out. “Tell me then.”

Sehun wanted to say that he felt like he could just blurt the news out, or that he trusted Chen not to hate him or judge him. But his throat was suddenly seizing up. Once he told Chen, everyone else would know, and that included Sehun’s family. There was absolutely no going back after he told Chen.

“Sehun,” Chen said, turning in his seat towards Sehun. “You do realize you can tell me anything, right? I mean, there are very few things I wouldn’t forgive you over. You didn’t rob a bank, right?’

Sehun gave a shake to his head.

“Kill someone? Get involved in espionage against your own country? Try to steal my super hot fiancé?”

At the last question Sehun jerked forward a bit, demanding to know, “She said yes?”

Chen gave him a strong smack to the arm and said, “Yes, of course she said yes. And you’d know that if you had bothered to call me this week at all.”

Sehun leaned forward, pressing his head against the top of the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. This week has been … pretty hectic. I’ve been a pretty crappy best friend.”

Chen, who was hardly ever one to hold a grudge, shrugged after only a few more seconds and said, “Hey, it’s no big deal. I went drinking with Kai to celebrate. He was more than happy to drink me under the table and then take unflattering photos of me for potential future blackmail. You know, all the things that friends do to each other.”

Genuinely Sehun said, “I’m really happy for you. I knew she’d say yes.”

Clearing his throat, Chen said, “Sehun, I’ll be more than happy to talk about my future marital plans with you any time you want other than this. But I really want to know what’s going on with you now. Why do you look like you’re afraid to tell me something? Why are we here? Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Sehun said, an eyebrow arched.

“Relatively speaking,” Chen added.

Once more Sehun caught sight of Luhan through the coffee shop windows.

It was hyperbole whenever someone claimed that pregnant people glowed. Of course Jae had looked even more beautiful to Sehun when he’d been pregnant, and it was a lie not to admit that Jae’s skin had looked healthier, and his hair glossier. But there wasn’t actually a shine to anyone pregnant.

But Luhan didn’t need that kind of metaphorical shine. With the bright, happy smile on his face, he was absolutely breath taking. He was stunning. He looked healthy and alive and the now obvious curve to his stomach wasn’t something that made Sehun’s heart beat fast in anything but admiration. Luhan was like the sun, warm and steady and full of life. Luhan didn’t need a so-called pregnancy glow, he shinned all on his own.

“You’re my best friend Chen,” Sehun found himself saying, turning back to the man in the car. “If I can’t tell you this, I don’t deserve to call you that.”

“This is something serious,” Chen inferred, face setting into something akin to a stoic look.

Sehun asked him, “How much do you remember from that night at the bar?”

The confusion on Chen’s face was clear. “That night at the bar? Come on, Sehun, you have to be a little more specific than that?”

“The night of the funeral.”

“Oh,” Chen sighed out. “That night.”

Sehun wondered, “You knew I left with someone, right? That’s what you told Suho. You passed out eventually from the alcohol, but you knew I left with someone.”

Gently, Chen said, “You were in so much pain that night, Sehun. I have never seen you like that before, and I never want to see it again. I thought maybe getting drunk off our asses would help, but I think it only made things worse for you. If you needed to blow off a little steam with a stranger, no one is going to judge you for that.”

“Even on the night that I buried my family?”

“Especially then,” Chen said, and he sounded absolute. “You were barely holding it together that night. I think you get a free pass, no questions asked.”

“Not from this,” Sehun mumbled.

“Huh?”

Abruptly, Sehun asked, “Do you know any realtors?”

Once more confusion was pulling at Chen. “Realtors? No. Not really. I mean, I think Chanyeol dated one about a year ago, remember? Why?” Chen looked startled all of the sudden. “Sehun, are you … do you want to move? Are you thinking of going? Of leaving? That is not okay. I thought we were--”

“Stop,” Sehun said, cutting him off before he could get worked up. “I’m just thinking of selling the house and getting a place closer to my work.”

The panic wasn’t ebbing completely from Chen as he asked, “Are you lonely in that house? It’s okay to admit if you are. There are a lot of memories there.”

That was part of it, Sehun couldn’t deny. But there were just as many good memories as bad. It simply came down to Sehun imagining his life years from now. He’d have a little girl dashing around that was half him, and she’d spend at least some of her time with him. That meant she’d be sleeping over. Was Sehun going to have to fix the nursery up from the wasted mess it currently was? How could he even contemplate putting his daughter who’d lived, in a room that had been intended for a daughter who’d died.

“I want a fresh start,” Sehun said eventually. “I want a place where … where …”

Here it was. Here was the moment.

Chen pressed, “Where?”

“Where my new family can be comfortable,” Sehun said, because that was what Luhan and the baby were. “And where I can be comfortable with them.”

“I’m confused,” Chen said right away.

Sehun raised a finger and pointed. “Do you see that coffee shop? See the guy inside who’s pregnant?”

Chen strained in his seat and Sehun tried to be patient.

“Oh, I see him,” Chen said, then looked back to Sehun. “What about him?”

Sehun swallowed hard. “That’s my kid he’s pregnant with.”

Mouth parted, Chen’s eyes darted back to Luhan. He said nothing, leaving Sehun in an agonizing wait, and continued to stare.

Sehun almost felt obligated to say, “That’s Luhan. The night at the bar, he’s the one I took home. I slept with him and we didn’t use protection. He’d pregnant. That’s my baby. I want to sell my house and get a new place because I want the baby we’re having not to be overshadowed by the baby that I never got to have.”

“Are you serious?” Chen asked, but Sehun couldn’t detect the tone used.

“Very,” Sehun said. “I just found out recently he’s pregnant. We’re not … it’s not like we’re in love, Chen. We didn’t make this baby out of love. We made it out of lust. But we both decided that we have to be good parents for her. We have to try to be that. She deserves it.”

Wavering Chen asked, “Her?”

Sehun slumped a little in his seat. “It’s a girl.”

With a hand on Sehun’s shoulder, Chen inquired, “Are you okay with this? You kind of sound okay with this, surprising.”

“I’m terrified,” Sehun said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to be a father. And up until recently, I walked around with my head up my ass about the fact that I was going to be one. I … I used to feel that acknowledging the baby I made with Luhan, meant disrespecting my daughter that died. I still feel that way now. Sometimes. I just know that I didn’t do this on purpose, but I have to accept it. I have to take responsibility. I have to be there for Luhan and her.”

Doing some rough math on his fingers, Chen asked, “So this Luhan guy is around four months?”

Sehun corrected, “He’ll be five very soon. God, Chen, do you hate me?”

“Hate you?” Chen asked, surprised at the question. “Sehun, you’re my best friend. You’d have to do something much worse than this for me to hate you.”

Shoulders falling in a release of air, Sehun said, “If you were at least angry, I’d understand. Jae was your friend. I got another man pregnant on the day of his funeral.”

Chen pushed his fingers through his hair and was quiet again for some time before stating, “You didn’t cheat on him, Sehun. I really wish you’d used either protection or your brain that night at the bar, but I understand why both were the last things considered. And I mean what I say. You didn’t cheat on Jae. You didn’t dishonor him. And you can bet your ass he’d want you to get a shot at being a father again.”

Sehun said lowly, “That’s what people keep telling me.”

“Then maybe they’re saying the right thing.”

“Maybe,” Sehun said.

Chen remarked, “Well, at least we know you two are going to have a cute baby.”

That was something Sehun could nod about confidently. Luhan was probably one of the more gorgeous men Sehun had ever seen in his life. There was something downright ethereal about him. He was special in his attractiveness, Sehun would argue, and their daughter was going to be the cause of all kinds of nightmares for Sehun when she was old enough to start noticing boys.

Or, Sehun realized horrifically, when boys were old enough to start noticing her.

Or girls.

Oh, no, he had to stop thinking about it immediately.

She was going to be more than just a looker. Sehun could see her now, taller than average with Luhan’s big eyes and Sehun’s cheekbones. No one would be unable to see her natural beauty, and Sehun just hoped that he’d have an ally in Luhan when he had to get out the baseball bat for the first person who showed up at the door to take her out.

“--he like?”

“Sorry,” Sehun said quickly, zoning back in. “I was .. .thinking.”

“What’s he like?” Chen repeated. “This Luhan who’s having your baby. What’s he like as a person?”

Feeling foolish with how big the smile on his face was stretching, Sehun said, “In a word? Amazing. He’s an artist, Chen. He paints. And he seems to be really level headed, thinks things through, and doesn’t act irrationally unless there’s a reason for it. When I was being an asshole to him about the baby, denying it, he let me know just what kind of a coward I was being. Then he didn’t give up on me. He kept pushing until I managed to get to this point. Chen, I like being at this point.”

Quietly, Chen said, “Sounds like you really like this guy.”

“We get along pretty easily,” Sehun chuckled out. “I always swear I’m going to say the wrong thing around him, and sometimes I do, but he’s patient. He’s going to be a great father, Chen. I’m lucky it was him I took home.”

It was a scary idea, but he was starting to creep towards the point where he couldn’t imagine not receiving Luhan’s e-mails. They were still a little awkward now, still getting used to each other, but Sehun could have seen himself being friends with Luhan regardless of the tie they now shared.

“Sehun, I’m cautiously happy for you,” Chen said, giving Sehun the validation to keep breathing normally. “Be careful, okay? But be happy, too.”

Sehun confessed, “I’d started to think I’d never feel happy again.”

Eyebrows pulling together, Chen asked, “This baby makes you feel that way?”

Sehun cautioned sternly, “She didn’t at first. But that’s because I was being an ass. But now I feel her move and I’m happy. I remember what it feels like to be happy. I think about getting to hold her and hug her and that part of me that hurts so badly from the accident …”

Chen guessed, “It hurts a little less?”

Sehun nodded.

“Okay, then,” Chen said, reaching for the lock on his door.

“What are you doing?” Sehun asked, eyes widening.

A little irritation creeping onto his face, Chen asked, “You could have told me about your impending fatherhood anywhere, right? You must have brought me down here for a reason, and I’m going to guess you want to get my stamp of approval on Luhan. You want me to meet him.”

Without any gusto, Sehun admitted, “Luhan thinks I’m not telling my friends about him or the baby because I’m ashamed of them. He wants his friends and my friends to all be friends, because we’ll be spending the next few decades around each other. I don’t want Luhan to think that.”

“And it’s important to you what Luhan thinks?” Chen asked, an edge to his words.

Sehun frowned. “Of course it is,” he eased out.

With a shoulder shrug, Chen asked, “Why’d you wait so long to tell me? Did you really think I’d hate you? Or try to lecture you or something?”

Fighting back a grimace, Sehun said, “I guess I just wasn’t ready to let the people I care about the most, know how badly I’d messed up. I didn’t want to lose anyone over this. Just for once, I want things to go my way.”

Chen ducked out of the car suddenly, getting to his feet and shutting the door. Sehun had to scramble after him as fast as he could to catch Chen saying, “Then you should introduce us. I’m your best friend. That makes the baby Luhan is pregnant with my niece. I’m going to want playdate rights, and when I have children of my own, I want them and your daughter to grow up knowing they’re family.”

Unsure, Sehun asked, “You really want me to introduce you?”

“You really want to,” Chen corrected, “or else I doubt you would have brought me here to tell me. Now come on, you can buy me coffee and sit there nervously while I talk to Luhan.”

Chen was already hurrying to the coffee shop and Sehun rushed after him, calling out, “Chen! Promise you’ll be nice to him! Chen! He’s emotionally unstable right now!”

Sehun knew he’d been spotted the second he made it through the door, Chen already a good distance ahead of him. A man that Sehun hadn’t seen before, but who must have known who Sehun was for some reason, gave Luhan a soft pat to the arm and turned him towards the door.

“Sehun?” Luhan asked, surprised, but looking pleasantly so. “What are you doing here?”

Earlier that day Sehun had gotten a few candid shots from Luhan, the kind that made Sehun’s long days at work seem just a little easier to handle. Sehun had spent his lunch hour laughing over the captions Luhan had added to them, all of the comments witty and seemingly easily given. Even the questionable photos, the ones that were out of focus or less than flattering were attached, victory signs were still present in the lot of them by a seemingly unaffected Luhan.

That was another thing Sehun absolutely found wonderful about Luhan. Luhan’s confidence in himself was infectious and inspiring.

“Luhan,” Sehun said, wanting nothing more than to reach out and run his hand along the growing curve of Luhan’s stomach, “I was just in the area and I wanted to stop in and introduce you to someone.”

Chen thrust a hand out to Luhan. “I’m Kim Jongdae.”

“He’s my best friend,” Sehun cut in. “And everyone calls him Chen.”

Luhan took Chen’s hand right away and shook it with what looked like a firm grasp. “It’s nice to meet you, then. Really nice.”

“I had to,” Chen said, giving a pointed look down to Luhan’s stomach. “We’re going to be interacting for a very long time. It would be better if we were friends, right? Plus, you’ll need someone to call when Sehun gets on your last nerve and you need to plot revenge.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Sehun said, but he was smiling as the words came out.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Luhan told Sehun evenly, then turned to Chen and stated, “I’ll put you on speed dial.”

“I like you,” Chen said. “Now, coffee please. It’s not every day I learn my best friend has gone and gotten himself into a strange and unexpected situation, even if it’s one that’s going to have a pretty good outcome. I need espresso. Lots of espresso.”

Sehun felt a little left out as Luhan pulled Chen towards the cash register asking, “This can’t be the first time Sehun’s gotten you into a strange and unexpected situation.”

“No,” Chen said easily. “Now that I think about it, you’re right.”

It was the only time Sehun could remember such an amazingly good feeling from being left behind.

And as if the hand of fate was finally being dealt towards him, Sehun watched in wonder as Chen and Luhan got along like they were old friends. There was no animosity or awkwardness between them, and Sehun couldn’t help feeling he’d dodged a huge bullet.

When Chen went to use the restroom Sehun slid into the seat next to Luhan, pressing in close so their arms touched. “I’m glad you’re getting along better with my best friend than I got along with yours.”

“That’s a work in progress,” Luhan laughed out. “And Chen’s nice. He’s really nice. He seems like a great best friend.”

Sehun couldn’t help smelling Luhan’s aftershave, which was so strong it must have been recently applied. He found himself telling Luhan, “He’s not faking it, you know. Chen is very respectful, even to people he doesn’t like, but he’s not pretending with you. He’s enjoying himself. He likes you.”

Luhan nudged his glass of tea a little across the table and said, “Now if only we could get Xiumin to like you.”

Sehun was quizzical for a second, then posed, “How about we save that for another day and try for our best friends liking each other. I only really cared about you getting to meet Chen, but I’d also like it if he could meet Xiumin. I don’t see him around here, though.”

“He’s still at work,” Luhan replied, settling back against the arm that Sehun had across the back of his chair. “He’s studying to be a vet right now, which means he’s pulling some long hours every couple of days. And when he gets off work, sometimes the last thing he wants to do is come down here where a bunch of rowdy high school kids are hanging out.”

“You’re hanging out too,” Sehun pointed out.

“I live upstairs.” Luhan gestured to the paintings across the coffee shop that were hanging up. “When I’m not there I mostly float around here in my spare time hoping someone will like my work enough to buy it.”

“Those are yours?” Sehun asked, blinking rapidly at the new information.

“They’re mine,” Luhan confirmed. “Kris, his parents own this place, encouraged me to put them up. I’ve sold a few.”

Sehun looked the pictures over. He certainly wasn’t one for art in the more traditional medium, and he couldn’t really be a judge of what was good or not. But Luhan’s paintings, which were vibrant and full of energy, were compelling to look at. And sort of familiar. Sehun couldn’t place it, but he was sure he’d seen some of Luhan’s very distinct work somewhere else.

“They’re nice,” Sehun said, hoping he sounded sincere. “I really like them.”

Luhan gave him a trying look. “You don’t have to pretend to like them.”

“I’m definitely not pretending. In fact, I think I’m going to buy one.”

Luhan hid his face in his hands. “Great. Just what I need. A pity purchase.”

With a frown, Sehun looked once more to the artwork lining the walls of the coffee shop. “It wouldn’t be a pity purchase,” Sehun said. The art was spectacular the more he looked at it. “But how about we do something else?”

Luhan looked up. “Like what?’

Sehun saw Chen exit the bathroom an rushed to say, “I think I’m going to move. I want to get a new house, closer to my work office. I don’t want to push away my past, but I want to make room for my future. I’m going to need something to go on those new walls. Can I commission some of your art?”

“Sorry,” Chen said, arriving back at their table. “There was a line. Hey, Luhan is it always this packed here? This coffee shop is making Starbucks look like a ghost town.”

Luhan returned the kind look. “It’s almost always this busy, but I think that’s a good thing. Starbucks is fine, but it’s very generic. Here I feel like you get a personalized experience, and a place to sit where you’re not rushed and you can feel at home no matter how long you stay. I’ve been coming here for years and it’s only gotten busier. Plus, it probably helps they have the best coffee in the greater Seoul area.”

Chen’s eyes narrowed as he spied Luhan’s cup. “You’re not drinking coffee, are you? I know pregnant people aren’t supposed to have that much caffeine.”

“Chen,” Sehun hissed. “That’s none of your business. It’s my baby not yours. And I trust Luhan’s judgment.”

As if there’d been no offense, Luhan said, “I’m drinking tea. And yes, before you ask, I know that quite a few teas have more caffeine than coffee, but not in this case. I am limiting my caffeine intake. This baby, Chen, is very important to me. I won’t do anything to jeopardize it. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Sehun felt absolutely smug as Chen’s eyebrows crawled their way up into his hairline in astonishment.

“Oh, wow,” Luhan siad, pressing a hand to his stomach. “It seems like my daughter is agreeing. She’s giving quite the argument for laying off caffeine as well.”

Before Sehun could register what was happening Luhan had his wrist in firm grip. He pressed Sehun’s hand flat against his stomach and had an expectant smile on his face.

“There she is,” Sehun breathed out when he felt the kicks. “Wow. You’re right.” The fluttering under his palm was stronger now than it had ever been.

Luhan asked Chen, “Do you want to feel? You’re going to be one of her uncles, right?”

“I’m good,” Chen said with a laugh. “But thanks.”

What Sehun noticed the most, as one particularly nice barista showered them with cakes and sweets that she absolutely wouldn’t take payment for, and the man from earlier who’d caught Luhan’s attention when Sehun had entered set himself up on a stool in the corner with a guitar in hand, was that there was nothing hard or uncomfortable about hanging out with Luhan. There was nothing awkward about Chen and Luhan occupying the same space. They could chat easily about almost any topic, their combined sense of humor meant they were laughing almost constantly. And even more importantly, as of late Sehun had been attempting to use boring yet ultimately time consuming work to act as a distraction to the thoughts occupying his mind. But being here with Luhan, the thoughts hadn’t made themselves known even once. He’d felt no guilt about enjoying himself with Luhan, or feeling their daughter kick.

“Live music?” Chen all but demanded. “This place has live music?”

Luhan thumbed towards the man with the guitar. “That’s Lay. I think you’ll like when he sings. He’s got an amazing voice. But yes, every other night for a few hours, after the high school kids have gone home to have dinner with their families, the coffee shop devotes a couple hours to anyone who wants to sing some songs. And hey, that’s not the only thing. Once in a while a brave soul gets up there to do a poetry reading. We all try to be supportive, even if it’s not something we particularly want to hear. Plus, it’s only for a few hours.”

Chen turned to Sehun. “Why didn’t you tell me about the most amazing coffee shop on the planet?”

Sehun eased out, “Because I didn’t know about it?”

“It’s true,” Luhan said, coming to his defense with a grin. “But don’t blame Sehun. We just haven’t had a chance to get together here. Sehun and I have been trying to take this slow, and to make as few mistakes as possible.”

Definitively, Chen said, “I’m telling all our friends about this place. And I’m telling them about you too, Luhan. They’re going to like you.”

The strumming of guitar strings forced Luhan to turn away from Chen in his seat, but not before Sehun caught the pleased smile on his face.

For the next few hours Sehun, in the company of Luhan and Chen, and then Lay who was well spoken and direct, but also very respectful, simply let himself enjoy the moment. Buzzed by caffeine he clapped for the performers, teased Luhan about the commission he seriously wanted, let Chen share with Luhan all the embarrassing stories of their time in high school, and not for one second felt like he was betraying Jae when Luhan smiled at him and Sehun’s stomach nearly ate itself with happiness.

“This is my number,” Luhan said when the shop was starting to clear out and he had Chen’s phone in his hand. He put his contact information into the phone easily and then handed it back. “Call me some time. We’ll hang out. And invite your friends to come hang out here.”

Chen pocketed his phone and asked, “Is there going to be an open mic night on Saturday?”

Arms crossed over his stomach, Luhan gave a nod. “There should be. Why? Are you thinking of coming?”

“You don’t sing,” Sehun said with disbelief.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, best friend,” Chen said, then promised Luhan to call and told Sehun, “We should get going. I’ll wait by the car.”

To his credit, Luhan waited until the door was firmly shut behind Chen before saying, “He’s a really amazing best friend, Sehun. He’s really cool.”

Sehun choked out, “Don’t let him hear you say all that praise. I’ll never hear the end of it. Or he might end up liking you better than me.”

Playfully Luhan tapped Sehun’s jaw. “I’d never steal your best friend away. Don’t worry. No matter how nice he is, he’s your best friend.”

“Good.” Sehun tried not to linger on how Luhan’s fingers had felt against his skin. “Because that’s my awesome best friend and I’ll fight to the death for him.”

“As it should be.”

Sehun paused to offer a wave to Lay who was slipping away. The man, who he’d learned was of Chinese nationality like Luhan, and probably a factor as to why they were such good friends, had been personable and welcoming. He’d known who Sehun was before Luhan had introduced them, which meant he probably knew about the early stages of Luhan’s pregnancy when Sehun hadn’t been able to cope. The fact that Lay was still treating him with any sort of human dignity, was something to be grateful for.

“I want to thank you.”

When Sehun looked to Luhan once more, the mischievous grin was gone from his face, replaced by something much more serious. “For what?”

“You know for what,” Luhan huffed. “I made a big deal about not wanting to be the secret hiding in your closet, and you made sure I wasn’t.”

Sehun told him, “Firstly, you did not make a big deal about it. And secondly, this isn’t something you should thank me about. Frankly, you were right. I mean, I wasn’t doing it on purpose, but I wasn’t telling my friends about you, either.” He ran a hand through his bangs, wishing they were speaking somewhere a bit more private instead of the middle of a coffee shop. “I don’t want to hide you. I don’t want to act like our baby is something I’m ashamed of. I’m serious about wanting to try to be a good father.”

“You’re doing just fine,” Luhan said. He bumped his belly against Sehun. “No complaints here so far. And I’ll be sure to let you know when I have them … particularly when my emotions get the best of me, and probably when I’m crying over something that isn’t even a big deal.”

A smile cracked on Sehun’s face. “Chen was the first, but he won’t be the last. I’m going to tell all the people in my life that are important to me that I’m gong to be a father.”

Luhan raised a finger. “If any of them don’t support you, you let me know and I’ll beat them up. I’m always going on about how you need to support me with this baby, but you need support too. You deserve support, and it should come from your closest friends.”

“I hope they’ll support me,” Sehun said, and it was true that the two people he’d worried the most about, Suho and Chen, had come through for him. But what about the others? What about Baekhyun who’d been best friends with Jae before Sehun even came around, and who was hit the hardest with his death?

“Tell them when you’re ready,” Luhan said, guiding him to the door.

At that Sehun laughed openly. “I’m sure Chen is already on the phone to someone, raving about how I’ve got this awesome guy who’s willing to put up with me, who’s kind and smart and funny. Nope, I think the cat’s out the bag.”

Luhan leaned on the coffee shop’s door. “We’re not dating, Sehun. I hope Chen won’t phrase it that way, either.”

Oh. Sehun realized it did sort of sound like he was describing someone he was in a relationship with. Oh, god, that had sounded really bad.

“I just meant …”

“Because,” Luhan intercepted, “I don’t want to cause any more trouble in your life. You shouldn’t have to deal with people hounding you, thinking that you cared so little for your husband that you moved on so quickly. Don’t let them think that of you, Sehun. You’re better than that.”

Was he? He was the man who’d gone and gotten someone pregnant less than a week after his husband had died--after his daughter had died, and on the very day that his family had been put into the ground. He’d kissed Luhan with more than just sexual attraction, and had sex with him on the bed that Sehun had done the same with his husband on.

“Sehun.” Luhan put a gentle hand on Sehun’s arm. “If and when you tell them, run the coffee shop by them. Chen seemed interested in Saturday night, and maybe one or more of them could tag along. If not this week, maybe next. I could clear my friend’s schedules and we could all meet up together. Think about it.”

The decision was made before Sehun could stop himself. “I’ll do you one better. This Saturday I’ll make sure they’re here. You do the same for your friends. Deal?”

Luhan perked. “Deal.”

Sehun exited through the door, promising, “I was serious about commissioning some art from you. Get on it before the third trimester.

It was a little worrisome how pretty Luhan looked when he blushed at Sehun’s words.

“That,” Chen said the second Sehun was back in the car, “actually went a lot better than I expected.”

Sehun shot him a sour look. “You thought Luhan was going to be a terrible person?”

Chen shrugged. “You didn’t exactly pick him that night at the bar for his stunning personality--which I’ll admit, is pretty awesome. But the fact remains, I’m not stupid, Sehun. I know you went home with him that night because he looks like Jae. So for all I knew I was walking into that coffee shop to talk with some airhead who couldn’t count to ten.”

Sehun froze. “It’s that obvious, isn’t it?”

“That he looks like Jae?” Chen gave him a concerned look. “Yes. But Luhan is not him. Luhan is … a lot more aggressive.”

“Aggressive?”

Chen clarified, “Confident. Jae was a people pleaser. I can tell, Luhan isn’t like that at all. He’s kind and not selfish, but he knows what he wants and he does it. He knows what he likes, and he doesn’t settle. Luhan’s personality is nothing like Jae’s, no matter how much alike they look.”

After a minute more, Sehun asked, “But you like him? You think he’s nice?”

Chen forced a smile. “I do think he’s nice, Sehun. And I really appreciate that you finally told me, and that it matters to you if we get along. But in the end this is on you. You’re the other father to that baby. You’re the one who’s going to be seeing Luhan’s face for a couple of decades now at least. The only thing that matters is if you like Luhan.”

“I do,” Sehun said right away. “A lot.”

“I can tell,” Chen replied. “And that’s what I’m worried about.”

“What?” Sehun asked, absolutely confused. “I don’t understand.”

Chen reached for his seatbelt. “That’s just it, Sehun. I’m scared for the moment you do.”

Slotting his keys into the ignition, Sehun turned the engine over and shot Chen one last strange look. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend.”

Chen rolled his eyes. “You have no idea how many times a week I know you’re the lucky one to have me.”

Chapter Text

“If you need me to come and rescue you, you just give the word and I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

Luhan smothered a laugh and replied, “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting right now? A big pitch to Apple? A rebranding proposal for their Asian market?”

Sehun’s reply was prompt as he said, “It’s due to start any second, but I’m prepared. Don’t worry. However, my offer remains. If you need rescuing, just say the word.” Then, just when Luhan thought he was done, Sehun added, “I can’t believe you remembered me telling you about the meeting.”

Luahn scoffed, “I actually read your e-mail replies.” Suspiciously, he accused, “Do you just skim mine?”

“No way!”

Across the baby boutique Kai, one of Sehun’s friends, held up a bright pink romper for his approval.

Making a face, Luhan shook his head. He’d been steadily building a wardrobe for his baby over the past few months, but there was a distinctly overwhelming amount of pink that Luhan was now trying to steer away from.

“How are things going?”

Luhan balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear as he spied a particularly cute onesie. “Better than expected, honestly. But neither did I think it was going to be a train wreck. You have exceptionally good taste in friends. We share that in common.”

It was completely mind blowing how the past few weeks had gone for Luhan. Not only had Chen become a welcomed and frequent visitor to the coffee shop, but each and every time he came he brought more friends with him. Luhan did his best to mingle his own friends into Sehun’s, trying to seem as nonchalant about it as possible, and to his astonishment, it had all gone rather smoothly.

Luhan had expected at least a little … uncomfortable awkwardness from the people that Sehun confided had helped him through the worst moment of his life. After all, they’d all been friends with Sehun’s husband. And to an outsider, or someone who didn’t fully comprehend the situation, it very well might look like Luhan was trying to fit into a spot that wasn’t meant to be refilled.

But Chen had never been anything but nice and friendly to him. Kai was patient and generous. Suho continued to be his same supportive self while Chanyeol, the friend that Sehun worked with, had welcomed Luhan with a bright smile and a tight hug that was most certainly unexpected.

If there was any resistance, and understandably so, it came from Baekhyun. But Luhan absolutely remembered how Sehun had said, “Baekhyun and Jae grew up together. They were best friends since kindergarten. When I wanted to marry Jae, I had to get Baekhyun’s permission, on top of Suho’s. If Baekhyun is a little difficult, it isn’t because he’s a mean person. He just blames me for Jae’s death, even if he’s never said so, and he might take that out on you.”

Luhan had wanted so desperately to know what Sehun meant by that. But he hadn’t. Etched into Luhan’s mind was the one condition Sehun had for him when they’d made their agreement to try and be good co-parents. Luhan couldn’t ask about Jae. He couldn’t pry or even be curious. He couldn’t, or he’d risk Sehun shutting himself away.

It was probably a miracle that Sehun mentioned Jae every once in a while.

Worse was the fact that Luhan was curious. He did want to know. And it was starting to eat away at him.

“No fistfights over who gets to buy booties?”

Luhan’s eyes drifted over to Kai who was now shifting through a shelf of baby sized rain coats that Luhan most certainly didn’t think his daughter would need for a long time. Pressed shoulder to shoulder with him was Tao who was bouncing a little happily as he said something that Kai nodded along to. Further back Suho was comparing features on a few bassinets and Luhan didn’t have the heart to go over there and tell him that Kris had already offered to make that purchase.

“I think they’re all going to buy a pair,” Luhan laughed out.

They made a weird group, with few of them actually friends just yet, but so far there hadn’t been any hang ups. Suho had been quite forceful in paying for the shopping trip that Luhan had to admit he still needed, and Kai had gotten along splendidly with both Tao, and Lay who was just now deciding between the two sets of baby sleepers in his hands.

“Well, you let Suho take care of the bill, okay?”

Luhan frowned and reminded, “I don’t need your brother-in-law to buy all of our baby things.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sehun said evenly, then Luhan could hear him say muffled, “Chanyeol, I’m coming. Just give me five more minutes. They’re not even ready for us yet.”

“Do you need to go?” Luhan asked, passing by racks of baby clothes and shoes. He tried not to be distracted by the upcoming weekend. On Saturday he and Sehun had the first ultrasound they were going to go to together, and on Sunday all of their friends were supposed to convene at a nearby hot spot for lunch. It would be the first time Luhan had to spend more than five minutes with Baekhyun who’d given his stomach a long, hard look the one time they’d met, then said nothing after introductions. But it also meant Sehun and Xiumin were going to be the same space for a prolonged amount of time. If anything started between them for any reason, sides would be taken and it would be a terrible, embarrassing mess.

The whole thing made Luhan feel a little nauseas, at least until he remembered that if it went positively, they’d all be gaining new friends and strengthening the system of support that the baby would have.

That, in Luhan’s opinion, was worth the risk.

“In a second,” Sehun said. “But I mean it, let Suho buy you things. It’s not that I think you and I can’t handle anything the baby needs, but Suho’s got more money than he knows what to do with. He doesn’t have a partner or any kids, no siblings now, and nothing to spend his money on. He doesn’t vacation, doesn’t buy things for himself, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his credit card has spider webs on it. The fact that he told me he was excited to buy baby things is pretty amazing.”

“Suho … has a lot of money?”

Luhan supposed Suho was exceptionally well dressed. He was currently in a casual but still expensive looking suit, with a fancy watch on one wrist and shoes that shined when he walked into the light. And when Luhan thought back to all the others times he’d seen Suho, the man had always looked sharp and well dressed as well. Suho dove an expensive car, too. He probably lived in a huge house.

Sehun replied, “Suho’s a workaholic. He clawed his way up the business ladder through sheer work ethic, and that’s why he’s in such a good position monetarily. But like I said, he doesn’t have anyone to spend that money on, and I certainly don’t need him to buy things for me. So just let him? It’ll make him feel better.”

“You should get Suho a girlfriend. Or boyfriend.”

Sehun laughed. “I’ll just pick one up on the way home from work.”

“Luhan!” Suho called out. “Come look at these. I want you to help me decide before I buy one.”

“I’ve got to go,” Luhan said, “and I think you do too.”

“Hey, wait,” Sehun said, even though Luhan could very clearly hear Chanyeol in the background complaining about the time. “I just want you to know I wanted to be there.”

The smile that broke across Luhan’s face felt foolish a moment later, but he couldn’t fight it away. “You don’t have to tell me things like that. I know you wanted to be here today. But we’ll go another day. There’s still plenty of time left before the baby comes.”

Sehun sounded bashful as he replied, “I just want to make sure you know that I don’t want you to think you have to go and do all this on your own. I want to be involved, even with the shopping thing.”

It was hard for Luhan to believe that Sehun had come so far, but the progress had been downright amazing when he thought about it. Sehun wasn’t just involved now, he was a willing participant. There were still lines left uncrossed, subjects they couldn’t talk about without causing fights or discord, but for the most part, they were functioning well together as potential parents. Sehun was becoming more affectionate with the idea of their daughter, and Luhan was starting to see a friend in Sehun.

Once more, Luan repeated, “We’ll go shopping together later. But really, I’ve got to go. I have to go talk your brother-in-law out of buy an overpriced bassinet. I’ve already got one. Kris is getting it for me.”

A little distant, Sehun said, “Let him get one anyway. I’ll put it in my house. Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

As the line clicked over the words registered in Luhan making him feel a little hollow.

Sehun’s house.

Sehun had his own home, separate from Luhan. That meant two nurseries. Two bassinets. What it really meant was that Luhan was going to cart the baby back and forth from his place to Sehun’s, and he’d have to go home without her at times.

It had been so easy to forget about that with how well he and Sehun had been getting along. But they weren’t in a relationship. They weren’t even living in the same house. Luhan wasn’t going to be able to wake up every morning and see his daughter, not if he didn’t want to rob Sehun of the same thing. And wasn’t this what he’d wanted in the first place? For Sehun to be a father to their daughter? Luhan couldn’t expect Sehun not to want partial custody, or at least visitation rights.

“Luhan?” Suho touched Luhan’s elbow and repeated his name. “Are you okay?”

“Just thinking,” Luhan said, shaking his head a little.

He tried to put his worries to the back of his mind for at least a while longer. There was still a whole trimester to go before he needed to worry about where their baby slept.

“Are you feeling okay?” Suho asked, and Luhan tried not to feel too embarrassed as all eyes turned to him.

“I’m perfectly fine, Suho. You wanted to show me something?”

In the end Luhan still felt uncomfortable with the money that Suho was prepared to spend on the bassinet that would likely end up in Sehun’s house, but it was lovely all the same. In nice, neutral colors, the bright wooden frame was something that radiated femininity without being overbearingly so. Luhan kind of loved it, no matter how much he appreciated the one that Kris had showed him he was getting the baby for Luhan’s home.

As they were making their purchases, Luhan’s stomach rumbling in a way that indicated the baby was just as hungry as he was, Tao held up something yellow and frilly that against all odds, Luhan actually found adorable. “You want to get that too?” Luhan asked. His friends had certainly noticed that Suho was paying for everything.

Once more there was pressure on Luhan’s elbow, but this time it was much more severe.

“Suho?” Luhan asked, a little startled by the look on his face.

“Not yellow, okay?” Suho even looked pale as he said, “I’ll explain everything to you later, but it’s best if you steer clear of that color.” His eyes jetted over to a nearby rack of decorative ribbons that now Lay was examining with Tao. “And no ribbons, either.”

As their items were being rung up, Luhan waved off Tao and said quietly to Suho, “This has to do with Jae, doesn’t it? Or with …”

Suho gave a sharp nod. “I promise, I’ll explain later, but trust me on this. Just … not yellow. I don’t think Sehun would like it very much, and god knows my brother-in-law isn’t the best at communicating why he feels certain ways about things.”

Luhan leaned over to Lay and said, “We’ll skip the ribbons, okay?”

Lay gave a shrug and Suho seemed to breathe out some relief.

Lunch was taken as an American style restaurant that was quite a drive to get to, but worth every bit of effort. Luhan rubbed his stomach contently after the meal was finished and thought the only thing that would have made the moment better was if Sehun was there to share it.

And it was with every bit of his heart that Luhan told Suho later as he dropped Luhan and Lay off at the coffee shop building, “I really appreciated today, Suho. Thank you for buying the things you did, but more so for helping make sure my friends and your friends grow closer.”

Lay was waiting patiently for Luhan outside the car with the bags of items when Suho put his hand over Luhan’s and said, “You’re family now, Luhan. Maybe it happened unconventionally, and maybe it’s going to be one hell of a story to tell your daughter when she’s old enough to understand, but make no mistake, you are family. And family looks out for family. Got it?”

Luhan nodded happily. “I’ve got it. See you later.”

“Come on,” Lay said when Luhan was to his side. “I’ll help you carry all this up to your apartment. But next time we’re making Tao come all the way back with us. If that kid wants to eat like a mule, he should have to carry things like one.”

Luhan laughed and took a couple of the bags. “You can be the one to tell him that, okay?”

Luhan, a little exhausted from all the shopping, and with his ankles hurting already despite the afternoon hour, left most of his purchases in the foyer and living room. He’d put them away later that night, but he wanted to relax for a moment, and breathe a sigh of relief that Kai and Tao looked to be fast friends, and Lay and Suho shared a great deal of interest that kept them in a friendly mood.

Waiting for him in his mail slot was another letter from his parents, this one joining the first in the trash, and then Luhan was left thinking of how generous and kind Suho was, and how hard Sehun was trying.

Across the living room, in a corner draped with sheets to protect the walls and the floor, Luhan spied a blank stretch of canvas that he’d never gotten around to filling. Now he spent all of his creative efforts on sketching nursery designs and painting out murals. It had been quite a while since he’d painted something for himself, and he’d even just cleared out the last of his work to the coffee shop, hoping for a buyer.

But hadn’t he promised Sehun a commissioned work? And the best way Luhan knew how to repay Suho was with something as individually crafted as a painting. Suho looked the type to appreciate art, even if he didn’t understand it. So there were two paintings on the horizon for him, and now as was good a time as ever to start the first.

Luhan rolled himself up to his feet and reached for his phone, snapping a shot of the white canvass. He typed out a quick message to Sehun’s e-mail, sent it off, and then went in search of his painting smock.

As the first color splashed up onto the canvass, Luhan’s fingers curling around a thin paintbrush, he felt the spark of inspiration inside him take off like kindle to a fire.

He’d never been able to manufacture inspiration. He’d gone to school with plenty of other art students who could force themselves to be creative. But for Luhan, even if it meant waiting an almost unbearable amount of time, he couldn’t force himself to paint without feeling an emotional compulsion to do so. Not if he was painting in his preferred medium, and excluding the work he did to pay his bills.

Once he’d painted for almost two days straight, going through entire cans of paint, making himself sick from the fumes and producing a masterpiece that had been his junior graduation project. And then he’d gone months at a time without painting anything, frustrating himself and his professors, unable to do anything but wait and hope.

But now, as Luhan dragged his brush through a glob of blue, swirling it with the green, smearing it with his thumb and then feeling the curl of pleasure in his chest when he realized the combination was so utterly Sehun, he could tell this was more than just a creative spark.

He was about to make something defining.

As he typically did when he painted, Luhan lost complete awareness of anything and everything around him. Nothing seemed to matter as the colors consumed him, and he wasn’t even aware of the passage of time until there was a steady thumping on his door.

When he opened it, loathed to drag himself away from his easel, Xiumin was on the other side with a knowing look. “You forgot I was coming over, didn’t you? You’re supposed to help me study for an upcoming practical exam.”

Luhan looked at him puzzled. “What?”

Xiumin sighed and brushed past Luhan and said, “But you know I’ll forgive you, especially if you’ve been painting.”

Shutting the door, Luhan pinched the bridge of his nose, tracking paint to his skin. “I did forget. I’m sorry.”

Xiumin shrugged good naturedly. “I’ve known you long enough by now, Luhan, to know that you don’t just forget things for no reason. And it’s been a while since I’ve seen you paint--not since before graduation. We can hang out later if you want to get back to it. I don’t mind.”

Luhan’s best friend absolutely did look like it wasn’t a problem, only Luhan could feel his inspiration slipping away with each passing moment. The interruption had completely disrupted his creative flow and there’d be no getting it back at the moment. He could try again later, but for now it was a lost cause.

“I’m done for tonight,” Luhan said, realizing for the first time how achy his back was, and how swollen his ankles had gotten.

“Let me help you,” Xiumin, pulling the smock over Luhan’s head and leading him towards the sink to wash his hands.

Luhan looked back to the now painted canvas and was more than a little shocked with how it had come out. Because there were more blues and greens that he usually used, and darker colors that Luhan shied away from typically. But it was beautiful and easily his best work, even better than his senior project. It was perfect for Sehun, and maybe Xiumin’s interruption had been a godsend, because Luhan couldn’t imagine adding a single thing more.

Lifting the tap for the hot water, Xiuminr remarked, “So you’ve been painting. What’s the reason for it?’

Luhan hesitated. It wasn’t like he could just tell Xiumin that he’d been thinking of Sehun and his extending family when the inspiration had come to him. Xiumin was especially sensitive to the subject of Sehun right now.

But never before had Luhan hesitated to tell Xiumin anything, and he hated now that he was afraid to do so.

So instead he lathered his arms up to his elbows, working the paint off and nodded towards the bags of clothing and accessories that were still spread out through the small foyer. “Shopping excursion today. I guess that did it.”

With a rag ready for Luhan to dry his hands on, Xiumin nodded. “Whatever works, I guess. What poor soul did you drag with you this time? Tao? I bet he tried to make you buy frilly things from start to finish.”

“Ah, no,” Luhan steadied himself. “I went with Suho, and one of Sehun’s friends. Well, Lay and Tao were there, but Suho treated us to the shopping and lunch.”

Confused, Xiumin asked, “You went with Sehun’s friends?”

“And ours, too.” Luhan tossed the towel towards the laundry and moved quickly to start putting his brushes and paints away. It also gave him a good excuse to put his back to Xiumin and not see his face.

Unfortunately, he could imagine what it looked like when Xiumin asked, “Why would you go with them?”

Luhan capped a paint can. “Because Suho offered? Because he’s a nice person.”

“But he’s not …a friend.”

Luhan would have bet his entire collection of paints and brushes that Xiumin meant to say family.

“I think we are friends,” Luhan said. “He didn’t seem like he was there out of any kind of obligation to Sehun or anyone else, and we get along really well. Xiumin, I’m not trying to replace any of our friends with Sehun’s, if that’s what you’re worried about. That’s never going to happen.”

Xiumin scoffed. “As if I thought that would even be an option. I’m more worried about what’s going to happen to your new friends when it happens.”

“When what happens?”

Xiumin crossed his arms over his chest. “When Sehun goes back to being irresponsible and ditches out on you. Are you supposed to just stay friends with those people? Will they take his side? Probably.”

Luhan felt his hands shake at the sudden idea and clamped down on them right away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Sehun is not going to leave.”

“Because he was on board from the start? And accepted his impending fatherhood with the same grace that you did?”

Prickling, Luhan snapped, “It was different for Sehun and I, for reasons that are not your business. All you need to know is that Sehun is not going to just decide he doesn’t want to do this.”

Xiumin pressed, “You’re sure? You’re just going to take his word for it?”

Luhan shot back, “I’m taking his actions right now as proof. A few months ago he wouldn’t even acknowledge that there was a baby. Now he wants to be a part of her life, and he’s coming to doctor appointments and he isn’t trying to hide me away like a dirty little secret.”

There was such anger on Xiumin’s face, the likes of which Luhan had never seen when he shouted back, “Anyone can show up for a few doctor appointments. I’m talking about him being there when there are midnight feedings, and dirty diapers that look like the trenches of world war one just exploded! I’m talking about nursing a baby who’s caught a cold, and sacrificing for the baby. You can’t honestly tell me you’re one hundred percent sure he’ll do that, because it’ll be a lie if you do. You’ll be luck if he doesn’t hire a nanny when it’s time for his weekend visits!”

Luhan chucked a paintbrush, a particularly large one, at Xiumin. “Shut up! You don’t know anything. You don’t know Sehun!”

“Neither do you!” Xiumin returned. “You think having lunch with him a few times means you can trust him with your baby?”

Luhan demanded, “Why are you coming at me like this? Ever since Sehun came into the picture and started taking responsibility you’ve been nothing but pissy and angry and a pain in the ass!”

Xiumin bent down for the brush and threw it back at Luhan, though it was much softer than how Luhan had tossed it. “So I’m a pain in the ass when I’m driving you around and buying you things and going with you to the doctor’s where I hold your hand and tell you a million times that you’re strong and you can do this?”

Luhan pulled in long, even breaths. “Have I ever seemed ungrateful? Have I ever said to you that you are not my best friend? You prove that distinction over and over with no room for argument. Except for now. Now, I’m not so sure. These aren’t the things a best friend says.”

“No?” Xiumin wondered. “Because if I don’t say them you’re going to go on thinking that Sehun is this amazing guy. You’re going to give everything to him, and then when he breaks your trust, I’m going to be left to pick up the pieces. You think I want that for you or for her?”

“I don’t think you’re hearing me,” Luhan said softly, “when I tell you that you don’t know anything about Sehun. You know nothing.”

Instantaneously, Xiumin moved to his side. “I know everything you do.”

Luhan froze. “What?”

Xiumin sighed loudly. “I looked into who Oh Sehun is. I know all about Jaehyuk and their daughter and what kind of person Sehun is. He’s not stable enough to be a father. He doesn’t have his head on straight no matter how well he’s faking it. He needs therapy. He needs time to heal. He doesn’t need to try and be there for you. You have me and you have the others. You should let him go and get the help he needs. He’s not right for you, Luhan.”

Sehun’s words were ringing in Luhan’s head all of the sudden. He’d said that Xiumin didn’t look at him like just a friend. Sehun had been convinced there was something more. Luhan had brushed the idea off immediately, but now …

Voice wavering like he might be going through a second puberty Luhan, had to ask, “Are you jealous?”

Xiumin startled.

“Are you?” Luhan asked again. “Are you jealous that I have so much trust and faith in Sehun right now? Are you jealous that I slept with him when I’ve never slept with you? Or are you just jealous that this baby is his and not yours?”

Red in the face, Xiumin did not respond.

“Sehun thinks you have feelings for me,” Luhan said, the words painful to get out. He could see the hurt reflecting on Xiumin’s face, and it was all Luhan’s fault. “I told him he was crazy and I was angry with him over it. But now I think he might have been right.”

Xiumin, who was shorter even if he was bulkier, leaned in close to Luhan. He was so close that Luhan knew what kind of cologne he was wearing and just how long ago he’d put it on.

With their noses inches apart, Xiumin said, “My distrust and dislike of the guy who got you pregnant because you look like his dead husband, and then decided to ditch you when it was too difficult to handle, has nothing to do with whatever I might feel for you.”

“So you’re saying you do?”

There wasn’t a kind of reply possible that Luhan thought could fix the situation. Especially not when Xiumin’s hand came up hot and heavy to the back of Luhan’s neck and pulled him down into a searing kiss.

To be truthful, Luhan had kissed Xiumin before. There had been a couple of drunken kisses the first year that Luhan had been at the university, but Xiumin had laughed them off, and back then Luhan had had his eye on Kris. Those kisses, ones that Luhan barely remembered, hadn’t contained any heat or passion, and were the product of soju and normal hormones. They hadn’t meant anything.

This kiss, however, Luhan realized, meant something. He could feel it in the way Xiumin kissed him firmly, but without rush, lips working against Luhan’s at a steady pace. And god help him if the kiss wasn’t the toe curling kind. Xiumin’s hand tangled up in Luhan’s short hair and he tilted his head even further, the barest hint of tongue making itself known.

It took every bit of Luhan’s self control to tear himself away from Xiumin. Then, breathing hard, he took two full steps backward and cradled his stomach where the baby was kicking furiously.

“Does that answer your question?” Xiumin demanded.

“Xiumin …” Luhan said, mouth still on fire from the kiss.

The last time Luhan had been properly kissed it had been by Sehun, but those kisses had been sloppy and drunken.

This time, Luhan corrected, “Minseok.”

“I don’t want you to fall in love with that asshole,” Xiumin said furiously. “He doesn’t deserve the kind of amazing person that you are. Just once I want you to look in my direction and know that I am in love with you. I will support you. I’ll love that baby. I’ll be everything you need me to. I’m right here, you just have to accept me.”

Of all the things Luhan wanted in his life, support and love were the two most important. And he’d thought he’d found them with Xiumin and their other friends, without any necessary romantic attachment. In fact, the lack of romantic attachment had kind of been nice. Never before, not in China, had he had friends who were so honest and caring without expecting something in return.

Now Xiumin was offering him all of that love and support with a romantic attachment, and the kind that wasn’t liable to run away any time soon. The steady, lifelong kind of love and support that Luhan had always desperately craved.

There was only one problem.

Luhan locked his legs and held his ground. “I love you very much, Xiumin. You should never doubt that. But I’m not … I’m not in love with you.”

“You could be.”

Luhan forced a small smile. “I think if it was going to happen, it already would have.”

Luhan could see Xiumin’s hands balling into fists as he demanded, “Is it him? Sehun? Are you in love with him?”

There was some relief in being able to say right away, “No. I’m not in love with Sehun.” There was something there, something that he barely let himself admit to, but it wasn’t love. Not yet. It was affection, certainly, but Luhan was scared to think of what more it could be. It would be the worst kind of pain if he ended up falling in love with Sehun, knowing that Sehun would never be able to return that kind of love.

It would be like whatever Xiumin was feeling now.

Xiumin asked, “But if this was him standing in front of you, confessing to be in love with you--”

“Don’t,” Luhan broke in. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t ask that. Don’t imagine it.”

When Xiumin’s head dipped down, his bangs hiding his face from Luhan, Luhan wasn’t sure what to think. He wasn’t sure what to do or how to handle the situation.

“Then no?”

Sadly, Luhan said, “No.”

Xiumin spun on heel and it was just slow enough that Luhan could see the tears in his eyes. Then Xiumin was tearing through the apartment, tripping over the paint sheets, knocking things over as he tried to stop his fall, and lunging towards the front door. He was through it a half second later, feet thundering down the stairs.

Luhan felt his own eyes prickle and soon enough he was wiping at tears, terrified that he’d just ruined the best friendship he’d ever had.

But what could he have done? He wasn’t in love with Xiumin. He didn’t have those kinds of feelings for him. And like how inspiration came with his art, Luhan didn’t think he could manufacture love. It was either there, or it wasn’t.

Luhan was rubbing furiously at his eyes with a soft voice came from the doorway, asking, “Did you and Xiumin fight?”

Luhan turned towards the open front door and sighed. “Lay, can I just have some privacy? Some time alone?”

“If that’s what you want,” Lay said easily enough, preparing to step back. Sometimes Luhan took for granted the kind of amazing person Lay was.

“Wait!” Luhan called out, making his way through the trail of destruction Xiumin had left. He bent down slowly for the upturned trash can.

“Hey, let me get that,” Lay said, darting to his side and kneeling down and starting to pick up the trash. “I’ll go right after this, okay?”

Luhan rubbed soothingly at his stomach. “I’m sorry, Lay. I shouldn’t have been rude just then. Xiumin and I did fight.”

“That doesn’t happen all too often,” Lay observed. “Rarely, in fact.”

Luhan’s eyebrows rose. “You’re right.” Then he had to know if he was the only blind person. “Lay, did you know that Xiumin …that he … how much did you hear? Am I …”

“Tao is nineteen,” Lay said, surprising Luhan from where he was still on the floor. “Which means he pretty much can’t see past the end of his nose. He’s got a good heart, but it’s harder for him than the rest of us to see what’s really going on. So yes, to answer your question, I heard the argument you two had, and yes, Kris and I already knew. Next to Tao who is still essentially a child, the rest of us knew.”

Luhan shuffled over to the sofa and threw himself down onto it, closing his eyes. “Then I’m the only idiot, baring a person who is completely lacking observation skills, that didn’t know my best friend was in love with me.”

“It’s not as if he said anything about it to you.”

“But you noticed!” Luhan cut out roughly. “You knew and so did Kris. How was I the only one who didn’t?”

Lay stood slowly, then followed after Luhan to the living room. He offered gently, “Because you’re the party in question? Luhan, you didn’t see Xiumin’s feelings for you because you weren’t looking for them.”

Luhan felt Lay lift his legs onto his lap and start rubbing his ankles soothingly. It felt like heaven.

“Sehun knew. He saw right away. He only met Xiumin once and he knew.”

“That’s because Sehun’s got feelings for you himself.”

Luhan’s eyes jerked open. “What?”

Lay’s hands kept a steady pressure on Luhan’s ankles. “Now I don’t for a second think he realizes he has those feelings for you, and he certainly isn’t ready for them. But they’re there. They’re waiting. And if you’re honest with yourself, you feel something back.”

Luhan frowned. “Sehun and I are having a baby together. We definitely have feelings for each other, but it’s not love.”

Lay made a low sound. “Anyway, just give Xiumin some time. He needs to blow off steam, let go of his hurt, and then calm down. He’ll come back around. You mean too much to him to let go completely.”

“But I can’t return his feelings,” Luhan replied. “I don’t feel the way about him that he feels about me.”

Lay gave his ankles a last squeeze and stood, settling Luhan’s feet back down on the soft sofa. “That’s something that’s going to sting with him for a long time, but I promise you, the hurt will fade. He’ll settle for just being friends after some time.”

“You think so?” Luhan called after him.

Lay laughed, “It’s going to be unbearably awkward for a while, but it will pass. Trust me.” Before Lay left completely, he passed by the righted trash can and said, “I pulled a letter out of there for you, Luhan. I think you tossed it by mistake. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

From his position on the sofa Luhan could see the letter from his parents sitting on the bar top. Its return was mocking him. Luhan was sure of it.

Then Luhan was reminded of the look of hurt on Xiumin’s face when Luhan had denied him.

Sinking into the sofa little, Luhan felt wracked with guilt. What if Lay was wrong? What if Xiumin never came back to him?

Or worse, what if Xiumin had been even the tiniest bit right about Sehun?

Chapter Text

It was Sehun’s greatest hope that the day went well. He’d been looking forward to the doctor’s visit for weeks now, and even more so what he had planned for afterwards. If there was a god at all, and Sehun kind of really hoped there was, the day would go well.

Luhan’s hand settled on Sehun’s knee and he said quietly, aware of the people around them in the hospital’s waiting room, “You seem nervous.”

His knee had been jiggling. When Luhan’s hand stilled it Sehun realized the tick for what it was.

“A little,” Sehun confessed, a smile making its way onto his face.

Luhan rolled his eyes. “Don’t make that handsome face at me. Everything is going to be fine.”

“This one?” Sehun asked, pointing a finger at himself.

“That one,” Luhan agreed, his hand not lifting from Sehun’s knee. “What are you nervous about?”

They’d been waiting for Luhan’s appointment for just over fifteen minutes, and it had been more than enough time for Sehun to start to morbidly fantasize about everything that could go wrong.

Sehun shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

He expected Luhan to let it go after that, but his face twisted into a grimace and he said, “Actually, before we go in there, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Something bad?” Sehun asked right away, his stomach dropping out from under him.

“I don’t know,” Luhan said with a shrug. “Look, I’ll just come out with it. My doctor is Xiumin’s sister. Have I told you that before?”

Stunned just a bit, Sehun said, “If you have, I missed it. His sister is your doctor?”

“She wasn’t originally,” Luhan said, his fingers splayed out on his stomach. It was the same stomach that Sehun’s own hands had nearly been glued to earlier. “I mean, she was the first doctor I went to see right after we slept together.” For the last part Luhan’s voice dropped to near a whisper.

“Okay,” Sehun eased out.

Luhan continued, “She tested me for all the basics and then cleared me afterwards. She wasn’t the doctor I went to when I found out I was pregnant, but when I just felt uncomfortable with the others, I came back to her. I’ve known her for years, Sehun, and she makes me feel calm when she’s making sure our baby is okay.”

“What kind of a doctor is she?” Sehun questioned.

As another person filed into the waiting room, Luhan said, “She’s a pediatrician right now, but originally studied to be a neonatal specialist.”

Sehun’s knee started bouncing again. “What does that mean?”

Luhan squeezed his knee in a comforting way. “It means that she is more than capable of walking us through this pregnancy, and overqualified if there are any issues. I just thought you deserved to know.”

Sinking a little in the plastic chair, Sehun offered, “Is that your way of telling me that this is going to be all kinds of awkward?”

Sounding reluctant, and something else Sehun couldn’t make out, Luhan replied, “Likely, considering it’s very possible that Xiumin told his sister that he kissed me the other day and I rejected him.”

Sehun snapped up so fast in his chair that he startled Luhan and garnered himself some dirty looks from across the waiting room.

It sounded like a hiss to himself as he demanded, “He did what?”

“Calm down,” Luhan said, expression dark. “I don’t think anyone else needs to be a part of this conversation.”

Sehun ducked his head in close to Luhan’s and asked more quietly this time, but with no less aggravation, “He kissed you?”

In a daring and dangerous way, Luhan said, “Don’t you dare look smug, but I asked Xiumin upfront if he had feelings for me. I asked him if your suspicions were true.”

“That’s when he kissed you?”

Luhan gave a sharp nod. “He went for it. I never even saw it coming.”

Sehun had been warned not to be smug. Smug was certainly not how he was feeling. No, it was plain and simple anger that was creeping up on him. How dare Luhan’s best friend try anything? What had the man been expecting? That Luhan would simply fall into his arms? That wasn’t Xiumin’s baby that Luhan was carrying around.

It was Sehun’s baby.

Luhan was …

“Sehun?”

Feeling panicked, Sehun’s eyes jerked over to a concerned looking Luhan. “Yes?” What the hell had he been thinking? What was the jealousy and anger that was threatening to boil over?”

“This is a hospital but I’d prefer if you didn’t look like you need medical attention.”

Trying to seem much calmer than he felt, Sehun asked, “Did you kiss him back?”

It was … it should have been okay if Luhan had. Sehun absolutely had no say over what Luhan went and did with himself, as long as it didn’t affect the baby. If Luhan had feelings for his best friend, then it was something Sehun would have to accept. But first he’d have to figure out why his heart felt like it was suddenly being dragged through broken glass.

“--miss the part where I told you where I rejected him?”

“Huh?” Sehun asked.

Luhan let out a low breath. “Xiumin kissed me. He said he loved me. He wanted me to return those feelings but I couldn’t. I told him the truth, and I hurt him, but I couldn’t lie to him. I didn’t kiss him back, either.”

Sehun felt boneless. “You rejected him.”

“I love him,” Luhan clarified, “but not the same way he loves me. I don’t think he took it well.”

“Was he mad?” Sehun asked, and he reached for Luhan’s hand to give it a supportive squeeze.

“He won’t speak to me,” Luhan said, pushing his free hand through his bangs. “He isn’t taking my calls, he wouldn’t answer the door when I went over to his apartment, and if he doesn’t completely hate me now it’ll be a miracle.”

Sehun felt the softness of Luhan’s fingers and never wanted to let go. “You know he doesn’t hate you. He’s upset and he’s hurt, but he doesn’t hate you. Give him some time. He’ll come back around.”

In a surprised way, Luhan said, “That’s surprisingly mature of you, Sehun. You don’t even like Xiumin.”

How much he liked or disliked Luhan’s best friend didn’t seem to matter at the moment. The only thing Sehun could concentrate on was that Luhan had rejected Xiumin and Sehun wouldn’t spend the next two decades watching them make out every time he came around to see his daughter.

“I guess not,” Sehun admitted. “We got off to a bad start.”

“Bad is an understatement,” Luhan chuckled.

Sehun offered, “Maybe we’re just not meant to get along. Some people aren’t. Anyway, you know it doesn’t really matter if I like him or not. He’s your best friend. If you want him in your life, and if you want him in our daughter’s life, then I’ll deal with it.”

The lingering look that Luhan gave him was baffling.

“What?” Sehun found himself asking, not sure if he’d said the right thing.

“We fought over you,” Luhan said finally, releasing his grip on Sehun’s hand. “He said that you weren’t dependable. He didn’t think you’d be reliable, or even mature enough to handle this. He wanted to be there for me instead. It wasn’t just about him being in love with me. I think maybe I involved him too much in this pregnancy in the beginning. Our fight was about him wanting to stand in for you, and thinking that any option would be better than you.”

Sehun huffed out “Well, frankly I don’t care what he thinks about me.”

“I don’t believe a word he said anyway,” Luhan said, giving a firm nod. “You’ve proven to me over and over, time and time again, that I can depend on you. I can trust you.”

That was … a lot of pressure. It freaked him out to no end to know that Luhan was counting on him so much, and held him in such high regard. He was afraid now to make a mistake, or do the wrong thing. He was afraid to let Luhan down, or their daughter. He was more scared now than when he’d found out Jae was pregnant.

He hadn’t been scared when Jae had died. Just lost.

“Well,” Luhan said shoulders slumped in defeat, “either Xiumin will come around or he won’t. I can’t control him. I can’t even predict him. I guess I should just be patient.”

Tomorrow, Sunday, sparked recognition in Sehun’s mind and he asked, “Do you think he’s coming to the picnic?”

In less than twenty-four hours, in a move that was either very brave or very stupid, Sehun and Luhan would be uniting the whole of their two closest friends and hoping for the best. Together he and Luhan had planned a picnic in the nearby park, on neutral ground, and at the very least hoped to bribe their friends into hanging around with expensive beef.

“I don’t know,” Luhan said. “But I guess that’s a worry for tomorrow. Right now I just want you to be prepared that Xiumin’s sister is unbearably overprotective of him from time to time. If we go in there it’s a possibility that she’ll be angry at least one of us.”

Sehun tucked his hands behind his head and said, “I hope it’s me, at least. I don’t want to cause a scene if she’s mean to you.”

“She wouldn’t be unprofessional,” Luhan said, sounding absolutely sure. “I just don’t think she’ll be nice if Xiumin told her I broke his heart into a million of pieces and then hounded him to talk to me afterwards.”

Sehun tried to give a reassuring smile. “Like you said earlier, there’s no need to be nervous. Right?”

“I lied,” Luhan replied with a toothy grin.

Sehun laughed. “I thought so.”

Luhan’s fingers inched their way back to Sehun’s knee.

The onslaught of pleasure and ease that coursed through Sehun, like the anger and jealousy, was just as unexpected. But not so much a mystery.

Ten minutes later Sehun was following a wobbly Luhan to an examination room. Once inside he helped Luhan remove his shoes and then foist himself up on the high table that he laid back on a second later.

“Okay?” Sehun asked, hoping to keep him as comfortable as possible.

Luhan offered, looking uncertain, “Just sit with me?”

Sehun nodded quickly and took up residence at the chair to the side. “No problem. If you need something else, just let me know.”

Xiumin’s sister, when Sehun met her ten minutes later, looked so much like Xiumin that Sehun must have seemed a fool, head cocked and expression blank.

She stared back a little in shock too, the hint of something on her face as she peered at Sehun appraisingly.

“You’re not my brother,” she said pleasantly, then held out her hand to Sehun and introduced herself as Eunji. “Luhan, are you trying to make this a little more exciting for us?”

Luhan’s eyebrows rose as he leaned up on an elbow. “You haven’t … talked to Xiumin recently?”

She shook her head easily. “Not for about a week. Why?”

“No reason,” Sehun cut in, hoping he sounded casual. “I’m Oh Sehun.”

From slightly behind them, Luhan said, “Sehun is the other father.”

Xiumin’s sister gave a satisfied nod. “It’s about time you made it to one of these appointments.”

“I know,” Sehun said quietly as they all settled in.

Sehun had gone with Jae to nearly every single one of his doctor visits, from month two all the way until month eight. He’d known about his baby’s progress nearly every step of the way, and almost nothing had been a surprise in the extremely typical pregnancy. Jae had always found it hilarious how routine his pregnancy was, and Sehun had always been thankful.

Luhan’s, apparently, was not so much so.

“I’ve got your most recently bloodwork results here, Luhan,” the doctor said. She didn’t have a pleased expression her face. If anything it was a worried one.

“Is it what we talked about last time?” Luhan asked, fear in his voice.

She nodded. “It’s irrefutable now. It’s gestational diabetes.”

Sehun felt light headed. “He’s got what? What’s wrong, Luhan? Wait!”

The doctor turned towards Sehun and said evenly, “Yesterday Luhan came in for a preliminary checkup, just to give us a bit of blood and urine to run for all the usual suspects. We’ve been monitoring Luhan’s blood sugar level for several months now, watching it climb into an abnormal territory.”

Sehun reached for Luhan’s hand and gripped it tightly as the man asked, “There’s no mistaking the test results?”

When she shook her head slowly, it was as if Sehun felt all of the energy drain from Luhan’s body.

“What does this all mean?” Sehun demanded, trying to meet Luhan’s gaze. “How serious is this? Diabetes is bad.”

The doctor took a seat on a stood and rolled it over to them, balancing Luhan’s chart on her knee expertly. “This is most certainly gestational diabetes, which means that barring any complications, once Luhan has the baby, everything should go back to normal. Luhan, how extensively are you aware of your family’s medical history? Have gestational diabetes, or regular diabetes for that matter, been a factor in that medical history?”

The paper lining the bed Luhan was lying on crunched a bit as he shifted, then said, “I’m not sure. My family and I … we don’t exactly communicate well. My parents aren’t very sentimental and we rarely just talk. In fact, I’m not really speaking with them now.”

Sehun asked him quietly, “I know they haven’t supported you, but maybe you should try to talk to them now? For the sake of the baby?”

Luhan gave a silent nod and Sehun tried to return a warm grin. “They can’t be that terrible, right?”

Finally, Luhan cracked a smile. “You have no idea. But for the baby, I’ll ask them about their medical history.” Sehun realized that also meant Luhan telling his parents about the baby, which he was most certainly sure Luhan hadn’t done yet.

Turning back to the doctor, Sehun asked, “Does this mean that Luhan needs to take shots? Insulin shots?”

With a frown, Luhan asked, “I’ll have to give myself shots?”

The doctor stood from her chair and gave Luhan’s exposed ankle a soft pat. “I think your gestational diabetes is very manageable at the moment. I’m going to prescribe you an oral medication. You’ll still have to check your blood sugar before and after you eat, and at other intervals during the day if you aren’t feeling well, but for now I think we can hold off on the shots. Unless you’re prefer them?”

“No way,” Luhan rushed out.

“Okay,” she nodded. “Now, you know we’re going to talk about how by the time you come see me next, you’ll be in your third trimester. Let’s go over some restrictions. Sehun, you pay attention as well. Luhan seems the sneaky type. You may have to sit on him to enforce these restrictions.”

“Hardy-har,” Luhan said, rolling his eyes.

“He’s not going to like these, is he?” Sehun asked, and he could tell now why Luhan had decided to stay with her as his doctor, regardless that she typically oversaw few pregnancies. She was charming and charismatic, friendly and funny. She put Sehun at ease, even when dealing with complications to the pregnancy. She was much more personable and amiable than her brother.

And there was something about her. There was something familiar, that made him feel like he knew her already. It was a comforting feeling.

“Not even a little,” Luhan answered for her.

But the restrictions, Sehun thought after hearing them, weren’t that bad at all. Luhan’s diet had to be more closely monitored, he had to stay off his feet for more hours than he was on, and he absolutely had to stop breathing in paint fumes.

By the time the ultrasound technician was there, rolling the machine in, Sehun was only just coming to realize how scary it all had to be for Luhan. How had he not gone running for the hills with absolute terror by now? There were so many things he could or couldn’t do, and there was also the constant worry that something could be wrong the baby at any time. Sehun had never felt more on the sidelines, but also never more disappointed in himself for not being there since the beginning.

“Ready to see your baby?”

“Very,” Sehun said, clearing his throat.

It was all terribly embarrassing, however, thirty seconds later when the ultrasound gel was on Luhan’s stomach and their baby was visible from the monitor. Embarrassing because while Luhan was sighing in happiness, Sehun was pressings his palms to his eyes, trying not to weep like a little girl. He was openl sobbing by the time their baby’s heartbeat was sounding through the small room.

“There she is,” the doctor said, clearly pleased by what she saw. “And … everything looks good at a quick glance.”

“Sehun,” Luhan prodded gently. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Sehun wiped at the tears almost furiously. “Where’s the head? The arms?”

The doctor’s finger traced along the screen. “This is the head, and her are the arms, the legs, and the curve of the spine. When Luhan comes to see me next time we can have a 3D ultrasound done. You’ll be able to see your child’s face then.”

“Her face?” Sehun asked, unable to believe such a thing was possible. Jae’s doctor had never mentioned it.

“It’s a little scary,” Xiumin’s sister laughed out, “and not all parents are comfortable with it, but I think the two of you will be. If anything it’ll give you a couple of months to argue over who she looks the most like.”

Surprised, Luhan wondered, “The 3D ultrasound will be that good?”

She nodded.

“I bet she’ll have your jaw, Sehun,” Luhan said definitively. His fingers brushed against the inside of Sehun’s wrist which caused Sehun’s heart rate to spike. He desperately hoped Luhan couldn’t tell it had happened.

“Maybe if she were a boy,” Sehun grinned and said. “But we probably shouldn’t hope that our daughter has a strong jaw line.”

Luhan nodded. “Then your eyes. They’re my favorite thing about you when you smile.”

With shaking fingers Sehun reached out and touched Luhan’s side, feeling the ripple of movement underneath. On the monitor their daughter was fidgeting, moving around and giving Sehun the best look at her he’d ever had. He had tacked up to his refrigerator all the photos Luhan had sent him of her over the past few months, but it was something very different to see her live on the screen. It made him feel closer to her.

“That’s it, gentlemen,” the doctor said eventually, helping Luhan wipe his stomach off and switching off the ultrasound machine. “Questions?”

Sehun only had about a million. But to the doctor’s credit she sat patiently and listened to each one before reply with a calm answer. And she did have answers to each of his concerns, settling some of the unease in him. Even the question he thought were dumb, she had patience for.

“What did you think?” Luhan asked when they were making their way through the hospital.

For the first time Sehun noticed that Luhan had the slightest of a shuffle in his walk now. He was quickly approaching the end of his fifth month and while Luhan’s hips remained worryingly narrow, his stomach was only expanding more and more every day. It was obvious that walking wasn’t something Luhan was doing with complete ease anymore. It was kind of adorable.

Sehun was never going to tell Luhan that his almost waddle was cute, though. He wanted to live long enough to see his daughter born.

“Oh, hey,” Luhan said, pulling at Sehun for a quick second. “This is the mural that I was commissioned to do.”

They were moving through the pediatrics wing of the hospital when Sehun tipped his head back, looking at the explosion of color on the walls and ceiling.

“You painted this?”

“I did,” Luhan said. “It was fun. I got to hang out with the kids all day, do what I love the most, and create something that I hoped would make other people just a little happier.”

Sehun chuckled, “If I were a kid, this would be pretty amazing. Heck, I’m not a kid and this is amazing.”

“Flattery doesn’t work on me,” Luhan warned.

Sehun gave him a pointed look. “Good thing it’s not flattery then.”

They had to wait quite a while longer before they could leave the hospital, dropping by the pharmacy to get the proper medication. Luhan, who’s ankles had already begun to hurt, sat in a nearby chair while Sehun stood in line, Luhan’s prescription in hand.

As the line inched forward Sehun couldn’t help wanting to take back his thoughts from so many weeks ago. Luhan was glowing. He was brilliant and so magnificently glowing that he was like a star going super nova. He was the only source of light in the room as far as Sehun was concerned.

“Oh, shit,” Sehun mumbled, eyes widening as Luhan gave him a supportive smile and Sehun’s heart beat thunderous in his chest. “Shit, shit.”

Luhan gestured at him, silently asking if Sehun wanted him to come join him in line.

Only able to shake his head, Sehun could pinpoint the feelings inside him for Luhan for exactly what they were. These were the things, the protectiveness, the warmth, the happiness, that he’d felt when Jae had been alive. These were emotions Sehun had thought were completely gone, or buried so far down in him that they’d never see the light of day.

But Luhan was making him feel them. Luhan was source of them.

And the feelings, more than anything else, were a betrayal to his husband.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Luhan said when they were in the car, sitting in the parking lot still.

“I should have come long before this,” Sehun said, hands gripping the wheel. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you kidding?” Luhan asked, the seatbelt stretched across him prominently. “You being here is more than I could ask for. Sehun, I’m not going to hold you to the standards of other men. There are extenuating circumstances in all of this. You don’t need to pretend like there’s some shame in the way you acted in the begging.”

“Isn’t there?” Sehun asked. It certainly felt that way.

“Can I just be happy you were here today? Can I just have that?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Sehun turned the key in the ignition. “And at least Xiumin’s sister was really nice. That could be because she hasn’t talked to her brother yet, but who knows. She does seem like she’s a genuinely nice person.”

“She is,” Luhan assured. “I’ve known her since I first moved to Korea. Even when there was a language barrier between us, she was very patient and always kind. She’s getting married soon. Xiumin told me the guy she’s marrying is nice, too. It kind of gives me hope, you know, that some people get to have that happy ending.”

Sehun reared back a little, then offered, “Maybe we don’t get to have a conventional happy ending, but I think we get something close to it. Isn’t that what our daughter is?”

The air was going stale in the car before Luhan said, “You’re right. No matter what happened to bring us to this point, when our daughter is old enough to understand, she’s going to know that the only thing that matters is that she’s got two parents who love her very much. That’s a happy ending in my book.”

Sehun’s plan had been to take Luhan home after the doctor’s appointment. Ever since Jae had died Sehun had taken on more and more work, throwing himself headfirst into time consuming projects and using the weekends for additional work time. His intent had been to take Luhan to his apartment, then double back to the office for overtime. But he suddenly didn’t want to do any of that. He didn’t want to be distracted by his work.

Easing the car out of the parking space, Sehun asked, “What are you doing this afternoon?”

There was most certainly a guilty look on Luhan’s face as he said too quickly. “Nothing.”

“Luhan?”

“Okay,” Luhan spilled, his smile too infectious. “I’m working on something. I’m working on a new series of paintings, actually. I want to get them finished before my third trimester when I have to stop. I need to get them finished by then.”

“But not after, right?”

If anything happened to the baby … if there were any complications or birth defects …

“I’m sorry, you know. Truly sorry.”

“For being an artist?” Sehun asked, trying to lighten the mood. “I think that’s the kind of apology your parents might want to hear, certainly not me.”

Luhan scoffed, “I’d never give them satisfaction of hearing me say anything close to that. No. I mean about this.” Luhan reached down to the floorboard in front of him and hefted up the bag of medication. “I’m sorry about getting gestational diabetes. I’m sorry for endangering our baby.”

“That wasn’t on purpose,” Sehun said, jerking the parking brake on immediately. “And it’s not your fault. You heard the doctor, sometimes these things just happen. There could be a family history of it, or this could just be something random. But no matter what, you didn’t do this and you’re not to blame. You have taken amazingly good care of our baby, and I know you would do anything to protect her. Don’t be sorry.”

“It feels like it’s my fault somehow,” Luhan said, eyebrows furrowing. “I would have extra desert sometimes, or eat salty food that I knew wasn’t good for me.”

Sehun reached across the car to slip a hand under Luhan’s chin. His fingers curled around Luhan’s jaw, the barest hint of stubble there, and he insisted, “This is gestational diabetes and we will handle it together. We’re going to be extra vigilant with your blood sugar levels, and when you have the baby, both you and she will be perfectly fine. Do you believe me?”

Luhan gave as jerky nod.

“Then, do you know what we need?”

Voice shaking, Luhan asked, “A therapist.”

Easing off the parking break, Sehun admitted, “Probably me more than you. But no, what we need first is lunch, maybe just so we can figure out how to check your blood sugar levels. Then we need some good luck. I say we buy it.”

“Buy it?” Luhan asked, but he certainly looked interested. “You know where we can buy good luck?”

“Of course I do,” Sehun said, waving a hand at him. “Buddhist temples sell them all the time. And I just happen to know where one is that’s located conveniently near a great place to eat. What do you say?”

“Lead on, then. And I hope you brought your wallet.”

Sehun was prepared to plaster his car, his home, and Luhan if necessary, with good luck charms. He said to Luhan, “I’ve got enough to buy every temple north of Busan out of good luck charms. Trust me, I’ve got this covered.”

It was, upon retrospection hours later, the best time Sehun had had in months. They ended up eating at a staunchly traditional Korean restaurant that included a six course meal and a wealth of history that Luhan in particular found interesting. And then it was off to the nearby Buddhist temple.

Jae had been Christian, and Sehun absolutely wasn’t Buddhist, but there was something oddly calming about the temple as he and Luhan lit candles, burned potpourri and offered quick prayers with bowed heads. Good luck charms were given free of charge and Sehun hung one deliberately on the rearview mirror as they made their way back into Seoul.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Sehun asked before Luhan could get out of the car when they were back at his apartment. “I’ll pick you up.”

Luhan ducked his head. “You’re doing all the heavy lifting and carting of things around for tomorrow. I could just take the bus, you know. Or get Kris to drive me. He’s going and he’s got a car. He doesn’t live too far away. I don’t want to be another thing you have to worry about.”

No. There was absolutely no way Sehun was letting Luhan take the bus. Buses were prone of shakiness, sudden braking, all kinds of dangers, and Sehun was not willing to let Luhan risk anything because he thought he might be putting Sehun out.

“Let me come get you,” Sehun said, hoping it sounded like a request. It’s no big deal. I want to.”

Luhan shrugged. “Okay. Eleven tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Sehun shouted after him.

Sehun sat in his car until he watched Luhan pass through the doorway and up the stairwell. He fought back the urge to run after Luhan. And he tried to squash down the feelings that came with that urge.

It was the unexpected sound of his car door opening that broke Sehun out of his thoughts, and then the fear that followed as a person slid into the seat that Luhan had just occupied.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sehun asked when he recognized Xiumin in the passenger seat. “Why are you in my car?”

“Because we need to talk,” Xiumin said, a stone face reflecting back to Sehun.

Sehun could barely believe the audacity of the man next to him. “Forgive me, but I don’t exactly want to talk to you right now. About anything. So kindly get out of my car before I make you.”

Xiumin crossed his arms. “I’d like to see you try. And then you can explain to Luhan that you accosted me when the noise of me punching you in the face, brings him down from all those stairs he just climbed.”

“You’re hilarious,” Sehun shot back, “thinking that it’ll be you breaking my nose, instead of the other way around. Especially since you’re the one who tried to kiss Luhan the other day.”

Xiumin looked even more furious. “That’s none of your business.”

“Luhan thought it was,” Sehun returned. “He told me all about it. What the hell were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking?” Xiumin asked in disbelief. “Nothing that I’m sure you haven’t thought about.”

That was a lie. There were all kinds of conflicting, scary feelings in Sehun, but never once had he thought about kissing Luhan. “You really upset him, you know.”

“I know,” Xiumin said, softening just a little. “But I had to take a chance. I had to try.”

“You had to try while he’s pregnant and going through the most complicated and stressful time of his life?”

Shooting him one more angry look, Xiumin said, “Regardless of my feelings for Luhan, I have always been there for him as a friend. And if he’d returned my feelings, I was more than prepared to be the kind of father to his baby that you should have been from the start.”

“That you think I’m not going to be!” Sehun shouted back, voice rising. “And you’d better think twice about trying to fill his head with that bullshit. I admit, I made mistakes in the beginning. I was an asshole and I still have issues I’m working through. But I made Luhan a promise to be there for him, and for our daughter, and I’m not going to break my word. You trying to tell him otherwise is only hurting him.”

Xiumin challenged, “Because you know him so well? You think that one roll through the sheets and a couple of months of hanging around means that you know Luhan? You think you know what he needs?”

“I know he needs support, not doubt,” Sehun said.

Xiumin arched an eyebrow. “What Luhan needs is a father to his baby who isn’t a walking train wreck. And that’s what you are. Don’t pretend otherwise, and don’t think that I don’t know. You need therapy. You need to get yourself straightened out. You don’t need to be making promises to Luhan that you probably can’t keep. Me telling you this has nothing to do with how I feel about this. This has everything to do with me seeing the kind of things his parents have put him through, and then what you put him through. He doesn’t deserve broken promises. He deserves better, even from you. Especially from you.”

This was Luhan’s best friend, Sehun reminded himself. He couldn’t lose his temper. He couldn’t explode like a child or swing or do anything that might cause Luhan to blame him or be disappointed in him.

“I am human,” Sehun settled for saying, locking eyes with Xiumin. “I am a human being who lost his husband and the baby that he’d been desperately in love with. I am afraid to care, I am afraid to live, and I am afraid to be someone Luhan relies on. I’m scared that I’ll look at my baby with Luhan and not feel anything, or try and compare this baby to the one that died. I’m scared of so many damn things and you have no right to judge me. But I am not a hopeless cause. Other people believe in me, Luhan included, and I’m starting to believe in myself.”

“I don’t want you to break Luhan’s heart,” Xiumin said, finally sounding less angry. “Even if I don’t get to have it, I don’t want you to break it.”

Sehun said, “I don’t know what you want from me. It would be a lie for me to guarantee you that there isn’t a chance my fears might get the worst of me. I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect or that Luhan and I won’t fight or have issues. But I understand that you’re his best friend, and you only want what’s best for him. So I’m going to tell you this once and only once. I will never deliberately do anything to hurt Luhan. I will never deliberately not be a father to our baby. And I will never deliberately run away. I’m here to stay. I am going to try. I am going to be in Luhan’s life and I am going to be in my daughter’s. If that isn’t something you can accept, then you need to rethink your place in Luhan’s life.”

“We got by just fine without you. When you inevitably leave, we’ll get by again.”

Sehun shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. Get over the idea.”

“I’m not stupid,” Xiumin said lowly. “I see the way you look at him. You’re not the only one who sees things. You may not admit it, but you’ve got feelings for him. And that’s going to be what messes things up. I’d bet anything on it.”

“You’ll get out of my car now,” Sehun said, air catching in his chest. Just how damn obvious was it what Luhan was starting to burrow his way into Sehun’s heart?

“Fine.” Xiumin threw open the car door.

Sehun told his retreating form, “You’d better be there tomorrow.”

Xiumin gave pause. “So I can enjoy your wonderful company with a fake smile on my face and the urge to get sick all over you?”

Sehun started the car. “No. Because you’re Luhan’s best friend, even if things are weird between the two of you there, it’s where you belong. Because regardless of whatever Luhan and I are to each other, you’re always going to be one of the most important people in the world to Luhan. And because he wants you there. So don’t let him down. Show up, put that fake smile on your face, and deal with it. Unless that friendship doesn’t mean anything to you.”

Xiumin gave no reply, and instead simply slammed the car door and stalked off down the street.

Unsure if they’d done anything but bait and snap at each other, Sehun watched him go. But Xiumin’s words stayed with him. He was a mess. No matter how hard he tried, he was broken and in need of repair.

Maybe … maybe therapy wasn’t such a bad idea. Luhan could handle him in pieces, but their daughter deserved a father who was whole and capable. Therapy was something to consider.

And in fact it was still on his mind the next day when he showed up to pick Luhan up. He couldn’t help asking, valuing Luhan’s opinion, “What would you say if I told you I was considering therapy?”

“You know I was just kidding yesterday when I said you needed it, right?”

“Maybe not,” Sehun said. “Do you think it’s a horrible idea?”

Luhan’s fingers brushed along his forearms, down to his wrist in a move that was starting to become so familiar. And welcomed.

“I think if it’s something you want to do, or feel you have to, I’ll support you.”

For just a second Sehun felt invincible, and utterly in love.

The unsettling notion stayed with him for hours.

Chapter Text

In a grand gesture, one that told Luhan just how proud Kai was of his business, the young man spread his arms and said, “This is the main studio. It’s the largest on the premises and where a majority of the classes are held. But there are a couple more classrooms down the hall over there, and when construction starts next week, we’ll amost double our size.”

Luhan’s eyes trailed across the bright wooden floors, past the wide mirrors lining the walls, and settled finally on the peeling paint that was nearly everywhere. “I take it business is going well then? To be able to afford not only additional space, but also massive renovations.”

Kai smiled wide still looking so proud. “I was afraid to say to anyone just how fast the business is expanding. I didn’t want to jinx myself, but yeah. Things are going great.”

Of all of Sehun’s friends, Luhan liked Kai the best. He didn’t think Suho counted. So excluding Suho, Kai was the most friendly and personable of the group. He’d almost gone out of his way to make Luhan feel accepted, was constantly inviting him out to lunch, and was starting to give Tao a run for his money with belly rubs.

“I think it’s amazing what you have here,” Luhan said, giving him a firm nod. “You’re in your early twenties but you already own a lucrative business. Not only that, it’s a business that really helps people, and doesn’t take advantage of them. That’s admirable.”

Kai wiggled his eyebrows. “You know, the fastest way to lose baby weight is cardio. Once the construction is done and I hire a few new teachers, we’ll be offering cardio classes, conditioning and strength training, and that sort. It won’t just be dance classes. I’m even thinking of adding some yoga and pilates. Those seem to be popular right now.”

Luhan threw him a dirty glare. “Is that your way of telling me I’m getting fat?”

When Kai rushed to sputter his defense, eyes fraught with panic, Luhan merely laughed, the sound echoing through the room and up to the high ceilings.

“I could lay off the extra deserts right now,” Luhan said. “Especially since I have to watch my blood sugar now.”

Kai took a step closer. “I saw you at the picnic, taking your blood sugar level. And then Sehun told the rest of us afterwards that the doctor diagnosed you with pregnancy diabetes.”

“Gestational diabetes,” Luhan said easily. “And the doctor expects everything to go back to normal with my blood sugar levels once I deliver.”

From the corner of his eye Luhan caught his reflection in the huge mirrors. From his side profile he looked absolutely gigantic, well into his second trimester, the baby more than settled in for the long haul. He’d been relegated to pregnancy clothing for months now, and while some of it was stylish, it was all overly priced, and only made Luhan long for the moment he could slide back into his skinny jeans.

But it wasn’t a burden that Luhan had been shouldering alone. When Sehun had agreed to go with him fifty-fifty on the baby, he’d also meant financially. So now Sehun bought a good deal of the clothes that Luhan needed, purchased the expensive, extra supportive shoes that made walking easier, and helped cover any unexpected expenses that came up from time to time. He’d even managed to get Luhan put on his medical insurance, and from the way Chanyeol told it, Chanyeol who was funny and friendly and Luhan’s favorite after Kai, it hadn’t been easy. But Sehun had gotten it done all the same, and now Luhan didn’t have to worry about paying out of pocket for hospital visits, medication, and especially the upcoming delivery expenses.

Sehun had, as far as Luhan was concerned, fully stepped up. It was utterly refreshing and a huge relief.

“So what do you think?” Kai asked, gesturing to the peeling paint that Luhan had spied minute ago. “Is it salvageable?”

With a frown, Luhan asked, “Are you sure you want me to be the one to do this? I mean … this is a huge job for someone like me. I’ve only just graduated from the university this year.”

With a shrug, Kai asked, “Do you think you could do it?”

When Kai had called him up the previous day, inquiring about his services for a total rebranding of his dance studio, Luhan had been flattered, but also unsure. After all, there were professionals who’d been remodeling businesses for years that were probably better choices, and there was a tick at the back of Luhan’s mind that Kai might only be offering because of Sehun.

“I’ve never taken on something a huge as this would be,” Luhan admitted. “But me, Kai? Are you absolutely sure?”

Kai certainly looked so as he said, “Sehun took me to see the work you did at the hospital, and I might have snuck a couple of looks at your portfolio that last time it and I were in the same room. It was when Chanyeol and I came by to pick you up for another baby store run last week. What you paint, Luhan, is truly art.”

“I paint murals and portraits,” Luhan stated.

“You infuse life onto blank surfaces,” Kai said, making his way to the nearby wall and scratching off the paint too easily. “I guess I could just go get anyone else to paint the walls. I could get someone who spent years studying the best color to reflect the light in the room, and who knows all about negative and positive space. And they’d be good, no doubt, but that’s not what I want.”

Skeptically, Luhan stated, “You don’t want good?”

“Nope,” Kai said. “I want special. I want amazing. I want someone who understands how art is supposed to make your soul feel, and can actually put something that complex and that beautiful on a wall which reflects to anyone who passes by. I’ve seen your work, Luhan. I know a good artist when I see one. I know a special artist when I see one, too. I want you to do the whole studio, so when my clients are learning hip-hop, everything around them screams energy. And when they’re learning complex salsa moves, they feel the passion and seduction. I know you can made the yoga room feel like serenity, and this room, the big room, you’ll do something with it that I can’t even imagine yet. So Luhan, do you think you can do it?”

It was … a huge undertaking that Kai apparently wanted from him. “How many rooms are we talking? In total?”

“Almost a dozen,” Kai said. “I’d need you to do the whole building, including the reception area.”

Luhan poked at his stomach. “And you do realize that paint is a no-go for me right now? I can’t have any prolonged exposure to paint fumes until after I deliver, and ideally not until a couple of weeks afterwards.”

Kai arched an eyebrow. “Did you miss the part where I told you that my dance studio is about to nearly double its size? Construction hasn’t even started yet on the additions. It’ll be a couple of months before it’s finished, and by then you’ll be waiting to have your baby any day. I figured that while construction is going on, you and I could plan out each room, and then when we’re ready to go, you’ll only have to put the paint on the walls.”

The door across the room popped open and a man came striding through, a duffle bag hooked over one shoulder. Kai raised a hand to the man and said lowly to Luhan, “There’s a ballroom dancing class set to start in about fifteen minutes.”

“Ballroom dancing?” Luhan asked in disbelief. “Is there a huge demand for that?”

Kai laughed and said, “I wouldn’t call it a huge demand, but the class also teaches the basics of waltzing and more formal kinds of slow dancing, and you’ll be surprised how many teenagers will come through those doors in fifteen minutes who want to learn. I think most of them want to eventually go to college in America, and Hollywood movies have apparently misled them as to what kind of dancing actually goes on at college.”

Luhan joined in his laugher, following him out of the room. “Considering I saw a whole lot of dancing at college, and none of it was that formal, I might be inclined to agree.”

Kai took them down a long hallway and towards the receptionist area where a petite woman with a kind smile was taking furiously on the phone while simultaneously typing on the computer in front of her.

“Do you teach any of the classes here?” Luhan asked.

“I taught almost all of them in the beginning,” Kai said. “I started out in a one room studio space with seven paying students. It was rough at first, but I loved every second of it.”

Lining the walls of the office were awards and dozens upon dozens of accolades for Kai. There were plenty for his students at the studio as well, but most of them were given to Kai for excellence at dance competitions.

“You didn’t think of going professional ever?” Luhan asked. A couple of teenagers were coming through the front door just like Kai had predicted, chatting happily and easily to each other. The second they saw Kai they gave him deep, respectful bows, and then hurried along.

Kai said, “Are you kidding? That was my dream! But almost right out of high school I hurt my waist pretty bad. It never healed right, and eventually I had to face the truth of what my situation is. Plus, what’s that saying go about teaching?”

“Those who can’t do, teach?” Luhan offered.

“Got it.” Kai gave him a friendly grin. “I would have given anything to be a professional dancer, but hey, this isn’t half bad. Now enough beating around the bush. If this is something you want to do, you have to let me know so we can start making plans and I can get a budget going for your expenses and services. But Luhan, don’t let me pressure you into this if you don’t want to. I know it’s asking a lot.”

“I’m worried about meeting any deadlines you might have,” Luhan said honestly. “I’m going to have a newborn when this project is expected to start, and it’s a lot for one person regardless of that.”

Kai didn’t look dissuaded in the lead bit. “Then just think about it, okay? You know you have a million willing and happy uncles for that baby, and Sehun, too. And you really didn’t think I’d make you do all this alone, right? I want you to take the lead, and have the final say over what goes on the walls, but you can have all the support and help you want. Luhan, think about it. Get back to me in a couple of weeks. How much I like you isn’t going to depend on whether or not you want to do this.”

Luhan sagged a bit gratefully. “I’ll think about it. I’ll …” Luhan broke off as a familiar face approached the glass doors to the studio. “Is that Baekhyun?”

It really was. There was no mistaking the short, slim man striding up to the door. But Luhan kind of wished it wasn’t. And he felt guilty thinking it, but Baekhyun was someone who made Luhan feel uncomfortable. He’d never been outright rude or mean, and there’d been no dirty looks or scathing comments. But unlike the others, Bakehyun had never been warm or welcoming. Baekhyun hadn’t gone out of his way to befriend Luhan. And outside of the picnic that had actually gone a hundred times better than Luhan had expected, he hadn’t seen Baekhyun but one other time.

“I forgot,” Kai said suddenly, rushing to meet him, “I knew he was coming down here today. I just forgot.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Baekhyun said, carrying with him a stack of folders stuffed with paper, and looking more than a little irritated from the heat outside. “One of the parents wanted to stay and talk with me after school let out. I would have ditched out early if I knew it was to yell at me for apparently being too soft on her son.”

“Soft?” Kai asked, then gestured to Luhan. “Look who else is here.”

There was just a second of unease on Baekhyun’s face before he offered Luhan a wave and said, “Yes, soft. Apparently I’m babying her son. I think she’d rather I send him home with bruised shins, than happy face stickers.”

Luhan asked softly, “You’re a teacher, right?”

Baekhyun gave a nod. “I teach kindergarten.”

Kai scoffed. “I hope you ignored that crazy lady. You know how parents get with their kids.” Kai’s eyes cut over to Luhan. “No offense, Luhan.”

Luhan grinned. “No worries. I think kids in general make people a little crazy. Though I hope I don’t turn out like that.”

Baekhyun’s face twisted into a grimace and Luhan wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

“That the paperwork?” Kai asked, intercepting the awkwardness of the moment. “The permission slips?”

“All twenty-four,” Baekhyun said, handing them over to Kai. “Including the one for the child whose parents think that a six-year-old doesn’t deserve praise and encouragement. So we’re all set. I’ll bring the rugrats by Monday morning at nine, and you make sure they have a good time.”

“Kids love to dance,” Kai said, looking over the permission forms. “And the best thing about them is that they don’t care if they look like fools doing it.”

Patting a hand against his stomach, Luhan said, “I hope my daughter has a teacher like you one day, Baekhyun. I bet your kids love you.”

“Undoubtedly,” Baekhyun said, taking the folders back. “I’m going to go give these to Hwasoo to make copies.” Baekhyun headed off towards the front desk without sparing Luhan another look.

“He hates me,” Luhan said flatly, finding it the only possible conclusion.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Kai said, wincing a little. “I mean … I don’t think so.”

Huffy, Luhan replied, “That isn’t exactly instilling confidence.”

Kai sighed, then reached for Luhan’s shoulder and said, “If anything, just remember that how he is around you isn’t personal. It might seem that way, but it’s not.”

With a twinge of pain from his back, Luhan sank into one of the nearby seats. “It sure feels that way.”

Kai sat heavily next to him. “But it really isn’t, Luhan. It just comes down to the fact that you have the unfortunate circumstance of looking a little bit too much like Baek’s best friend, and of being pregnant by Sehun. You know that Jae and Baekhyun were best friends, right?”

Luhan gave a slight nod. “For a long time, right?”

“Since about first grade,” Kai said. “They were more like brothers, and they were pretty much inseparable. Sehun had to win Baekhyun over before he could even have a shot at Jae. And when Jae found out he was pregnant, the first person he told wasn’t Sehun, it was Baekhyun. When Jae died, Baekhyun was like Sehun, barely keeping it together.”

“I can’t help that I’m pregnant,” Luhan pointed out. “And I’m not looking to replace how important Jae was to Baekhyun or Sehun. I just want to be me, and it’s completely possible for Sehun to love this daughter as much as the one that passed away.”

“I get that,” Kai said. “And I think Sehun finally gets that. But Baekhyun? Maybe not so much. Still, he’ll have to come around eventually. It’s going to be hard for him to ignore your daughter as soon as Sehun starts carting her around, being extremely obnoxious and pretending like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.”

Luhan glared a little. “She will be.”

Kai sobered a bit. “Baekhyun just needs to get to know you. Once he figures out that you’re a really nice person, and that Sehun caring for you has nothing to do with how much he loved Jae, he’ll receive you a little better.”

Before Luhan could ponder those words, Baekhyun came back upon them, free from the folders, asking, “Kai? Lunch?”

The feeling that he wasn’t invited was all too obvious to Luhan, but just as well. “Kai,” Luhan said, touching his sleeve. “Thank you for the offer and I promise to give it real consideration before coming to a decision. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I should get going.”

“You don’t want to eat with us?” Kai asked, looking confused.

Luhan did not look to Baekhyun as he replied, “I’ve got to get home and make an important phone call.”

Kai seemed unhappy with his answer, but offered, “Let me walk you to your car at least. Maybe I can try and bribe you a little more on the way to accept my offer. You do this for me and you’ll get any class you want to take for the rest of your life, completely free. Think about it, the ability to embarrass Sehun at the drop of a hat by insisting the two of you lean line dancing, or worse, ballet.”

There was a twitch of a smile on Baekhyun’s face.

“Tempting,” Luhan chuckled. “Actually, I don’t have a car. I took the bus here. It’s no big deal. The stop nearest me is only about a block away, so at least for the moment, I don’t need a car. I think I’ll have to reconsider that once the baby is here, but for now, walking is fine.”

“Walking?” Baekhyun asked sharply, and it might have been the lighting, but to Luhan he looked quite pale all of the sudden.

“It’s okay,” Luhan said slowly, wondering why both Baekhyun and Kai were sharing worried, almost downright frightened looks with each other. “My doctor said it was fine to walk for a bit, just as long as I rest once my ankles or back start to protest.”

“You can’t walk,” Kai said suddenly.

Luhan wondered, “Why not?”

It was the most unexpected thing in the world when Baekhyun volunteered, “I’ll take you home. Kai, I’ll be back in around twenty, okay?”

Unable to believe the offer, Luhan asked, “You’re going to drive me home?”

“Come on,” Baekhyun said, leaving no more room for argument, and he was already blowing through the front doors to the studio before Luhan could say a word more.

“Why is this a big deal?” Luhan asked, something tugging at his memory. “Sehun gave me the same freaked out look that you and Baekhyun just did when I mentioned I was going to walk somewhere. What’s going on?”

Gently, Kai steered Luhan towards the front doors. Through them Luhan could already see Baekhyun waiting by a silver car. “Just let Baekhyun drive you home.”

Annoyance crashed through Luhan. “Don’t hide things from me.”

“Its not mine to hide,” Kai said simply, then he was almost dashing away like a coward.

Baekhyun drove Luhan to his apartment in absolute silence, but just before Luhan exited the car, he caught Luhan’s arm and said, “Do us all a favor and just call someone if you need to go somewhere.”

Luhan tired not to lose his temper as he said, “The bus works just fine for me. I don’t need people to waste their time driving me around.”

Eyes narrowing, Baekhyun asked, “Why would you want to take the bus?”

Luhan challenged, “Why would I want to put my friends out every time I need to go to the store when I have legs that work just fine, along with a bus pass that does as well?”

Baekhyun was visibly gritting his teeth as he said, “If you want to go somewhere, just get a ride.”

Luhan ducked out of the car as quickly as his expanded waistline would allow, and without a look back to Baehyun, climbed the stairs to his apartment.

Once inside he shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, almost dreading what was to come.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Kai that he had an important phone call to make at home.

More specifically, he had to call China. He had to call his parents. He’d opened their letter.

Since the arrival of the first letter Luhan had done his best to pretend that he’d never seen the envelope. He ignored the second one as well. But by the time the third arrived in just over a week, Luhan’s curiosity had gotten the best of him. And hope. The last bit of hope in him had crawled its way to the surface, baiting Luhan with the potential of reconciliation.

He still had no idea what the first two had said, they’d long since gone out with the trash. But the third, and the only one he’d opened, and said plainly in his mother’s tone of near constant irritation, that she need him to contact her. The letter had stated that she’d tried calling, only to find her number blocked, and the same via e-mail. She’d written longhand to him because it was the only way to believe he’d hear from her. She wanted him to call home.

Luhan had put the idea off for days now. The hope in him was exciting to a point, but when he thought about the situation, eventually it tapered off into fear.

It had taken days to talk himself into calling. It was days before he was mentally prepared enough to speak with his parents.

So five minutes later found him seated on his sofa, legs tucked underneath him as the ringing tone sounded in his ear.

His mother’s voice, when she answered the phone, was as brittle as ever.

When Luhan had been little, his parents had truthfully scared him. He saw his father very little, and his mother was as little motherly and nurturing as possible. When either of them spoke to him it was always with sharp words, clear intent, and a lack of patience. As a child he’d been unsure of how to handle the clinical and impersonal way his parents treated him. And from that had come fear.

It hadn’t gone away, apparently, now that he was an adult.

He said simply, “I got your letter.”

Her voice crawled across the receiver, “You made it very difficult to contact you.”

“I didn’t think you’d have any interest in talking to me after the way we ended things last time,” Luhan snapped back.

“Such disrespect,” she replied. “Have you lost what little honor you once had, in that heathen filled land?”

Luhan rolled his eyes, stretching his legs out on the sofa. “Why did you want to speak to me, mother? Are you going to try and convince me to give up my foolish ways and come home?”

There was a pause on the other line and Luhan almost thought for a second that she’d hung up. Then she finally said, “You must come home, Han.”

There was something odd in her tone. And it was worrying.

“Something is wrong,” he guessed.

“Your father,” she said. “His health is not well. Han, come home son.”

Luhan nearly lost his grip on the phone as he shot upright, demanding, “What’s wrong with father? Is he ill?”

She said right away, “He collapsed at work two weeks ago. He suffered a heart attack.”

No. That seemed impossible to Luhan. Every single memory he had tied to his father was one of a strong, immovable force of virility. His father was tall and broad shouldered, and while he suffered from high blood pressure, he’d always otherwise been the picture of health. Luhan couldn’t remember a day in his life when his father had been ill.

“Is he okay? He had a heart attack!”

His mother said, “He is not well. You are his son. You must come home to see him.”

Stiff with fear, Luhan demanded, “What do you mean he isn’t well? How sick is he?”

The silence that followed made Luhan shake with terror.

“Is he going to recover?” Luhan asked finally.

Luhan’s father had always been well, but Luhan also knew that his father was quite old. The fact that both of his parents were much older than that of his friends, had always led Luhan to believe that he hadn’t been a planned or particularly wanted child. Maybe his parents hadn’t expected children at all. So the more he thought about it with his father pushing seventy, a heart attack was possible.

Then his mother said, “You should come home quickly. Give him the honor he deserves as your father.”

Luhan drew in a sharp breath. “I’m going to book a flight tonight. I’ll be there are soon as I can.” When the baby inside him gave a reminder of a kick, Luhan paused. What would be worse? Telling his mother now, in spite of the heavy news at hand, or simply showing up with a belly on display?

“I will book one for you, Han,” she said, and her tone was absolutely authoritative in its finality. “Unblock your e-mail. I will forward the information to you.”

“Mother,” Luhan said quietly, voice wavering. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“It can wait,” she said a bit harshly. “Your father takes priority.”

The thing was, Luhan didn’t think his daughter could wait.

“I haven’t only remained in Korea because of what you deem my rebellious selfishness,” Luhan said anyway, desperately still trying to even out his breathing. “There is one other, very important reason.”

“Which is?”

It was better to just let it out as quickly as possible, Luhan reasoned. Like ripping off a band aid.

“I’m pregnant.”

Once more, the line was silent.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Luhan said, suddenly feeling as if he had to defend either himself or his child. “There was alcohol involved, so yes, I was irresponsible. But I’m being responsible now. I’m taking care of myself and my child, I’m making good choice, and no matter what you think of this news, I’m going to put my child before anything else, including your approval.”

When she did speak again, her voice was even odder than it had been earlier. And the tone made Luhan nearly sweat with anxiousness. She asked him, “Have you married the man you allowed to get you pregnant?”

Once more, Luhan’s tolerance was pushed. “His name is Oh Sehun. We’re not married, mother, but we are both responsibly handling the situation. He’s going to be supportive and he’s already proven himself several times over.”

“Then you’re not married?”

Luhan sighed. “No. We’re not married. We’re not even in love.” Whatever feelings Luhan might be having for Sehun were impossible to be classified as love. Mostly. Maybe.

Instead of the lecture that Luhan had anticipated, instead she said, “I will forward you the information for you flight. Come home.”

The sound of the call ending was as rough and stale as the conversation that had just been held.

Luhan loved his parents. But he loved them in the way that he thought they loved him, with a sense of familial obligation. Never the less, Luhan hearing about his father’s failing health had weakened him, and all he could think about was getting back to China and seeing his father one last time.

The only person Luhan could think to call, his fingers barely still enough to find the contact number in the cell phone’s address book, was his best friend.

Xiumin had, against what seemed like all odds, shown up at the picnic that Luhan and Sehun had hosted for their friends. He’d come with a tense look on his face and a mumbled apology to Luhan, but he’d still come.

And he’d remained by Luhan’s side for most of the function, being perfectly polite to Sehun’s friends, and portraying the belief that absolutely nothing was wrong. If Luhan hadn’t been the one who’d been kissed, he would have thought everything was fine between them.

Afterwards, when people had begun dispersing and Luhan was willing to call the get together a success, Xiumin said lowly to Luhan, “You know things can’t go back to exactly the way they were before, right?”

Luhan had only nodded.

But then Xiumin had added, “That doesn’t change, however, the fact that you’re my best friend, and that is my niece in there.”

It seemed like so much more needed to be said, but also that just enough had been.

For years more Luhan predicted that he and Xiumin would be on shaky ground, forever stuck on the kiss that had been shared between them, regardless of the outcome.

Still, less than twenty minutes after calling him, Xiumin was in his apartment, hugging him tightly promising, “If you dad is half as stubborn as you are, you’ll have more than enough time to make it.”

With the TV playing in the background like white noise, the two of them ordered takeout, piled blanketed up on the sofa and crowded together, reminding Luhan of their days in the university when they’d bonded so deeply and so easily.

“Is it stupid I’m scared to go home?” Luhan asked, chopsticks swirling around a bowl of black noodles.

Xiumin asked, “Do you really consider it your home? Still? You’ve been in Korea years now.”

“I think it’ll always be my home in some way,” Luhan said. “And that’s not a bad thing. I plan on having my baby here, raising her here, and helping her embrace the fact that she’s half Korean. But I don’t want her to lose her Chinese heritage, either. But Xiumin, I’m terrified to go home. It took so much to get away from there and be on my own.”

Xiumin hooked an easy arm around Luhan’s shoulders. “You are on your own. You’re just going back to visit. You’re a grown man, Luhan. They can’t control you anymore. I mean, you’re about to become a father. I think you can control your own destiny now.”

Luhan’s shoulder shrugged and his hand holding the chopsticks stilled. “Maybe I’m just scared to go see my father before he dies. There’s plenty of love lost between myself and my father. He, even more than my mother, resented the fact that I didn’t want to take after him in the family business. I think he always expected I’d want to get up in the morning, put on a suit, work ten hours a day, and concentrate on being powerful and rich. That’s what he wanted for himself and he couldn’t understand why I didn’t want it. All that aside, he’s still my father. When he dies, part of me will die with him.”

And more importantly, his daughter would never know her grandfather. She’d never get to ride on his shoulders like Luhan had so many years ago, or even just know him. She’d have to settle for what Luhan could tell her. It just wasn’t going to be the same.

“Have you gotten your flight information yet?” Xiumin asked.

Luhan reached for his phone and tossed it into Xiumin’s lap. “My mother booked me a flight immediately. She sent me the information about five minutes ago. I leave tomorrow morning.”

Xiumin whistled out, “First class. Nice.”

“Maybe it’s because I told her I’m pregnant.”

“You did what?” Xiumin asked, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

Luhan nodded. “Lay said I should, and I was starting to think that even before I heard about my father. I told her flat out, and honestly she took it better than I expected.”

Stretching out, Xiumin said, “At least that’s one less thing for you to worry about. Did she book a return flight for you?”

“No,” Luhan said, finally taking a bite of the noodles. “I’m not sure how long I’ll have to stay. It’ll be a few days at least, and no more than a week. Will you come get me when I get back into Korea?”

“Of course,” Xiumin said, giving him a hard look. “You just let me know when. I’ll be there at the airport whenever you need me.”

Luhan quickly took another bite of noodles to avoid having to say anything. In another world, or under different circumstances, Luhan would have been glad to love Xiumin as more than a brother and friend.

When Luhan told Sehun the news later that night he as met with sympathy and then the offer, “Do you want me to come with you?”

Luhan had never once stopped to consider that Sehun might want to come with him back to China. “Can you?”

With a dejected sound, Sehun said, “Probably not. I’m sorry. I’ve got a deadline coming up at work and I still need to do a lot for it. Are you going to be okay to travel on your own? Is it safe for you and the baby?”

“I checked with my doctor,” Luhan assured. “I’m okay. And I won’t be there long. No more than a week, then I’ll come right back. You have my word.”

“I believe you,” Sehun said evenly. “Will you let me take you to the airport tomorrow?”

That sounded great to Luhan, who’d been prepared to call for a car in the morning.

“Pick me up at seven?”

Saying goodbye to Sehun at the airport ended up being a million times harder than Luhan had ever imagined. He hugged Sehun tightly and said, “I’ll miss you, Sehun. Take care of yourself while I’m gone.”

Sehun clutched him tightly, their baby between them, and said back, “You take care of yourself. Protect our baby. Don’t stay on your feet too long. Don’t let your mom bully you or make you feel sad. And if it’s bad over there and you don’t want to handle it, get a flight back early and I’ll come get you.”

“I promise,” Luhan said.

Then he kept absolutely still as Sehun stroked his stomach affectionately and said, “You be good for you father, little one. He’s going to deal with something difficult, so prove me right by being a good girl and not causing trouble.” It was such an amazing thing to hear from Sehun that Luhan could feel his eyes watering almost immediately.

“She’ll be a good girl,” Luhan said confidently.

“I love you,” Sehun said, head bowed, and for just half a second, Luhan could imagine it wasn’t the baby Sehun was speaking to.

When the announcement for his flight came up, Luhan pulled away from Sehun and said, “That’s me. Please, I mean it, Sehun, take care of yourself and stay healthy while I’m away. When I get back we’ll catch up.”

“Call me,” Sehun said, catching him before he could head to his departure gate. “When you get to China, call me so I know you’re okay.”

“I will,” Luhan said. “I have to go, Sehun.”

Luhan gave Sehun a long, deliberate wave, then headed towards the airplane that would take him back to China.

The flight, at the very least, was smooth. As thoughts of Sehun and their baby, and then Luhan’s father, consumed him, he could relax in his comfortable, spacious seat and prepare himself for what as coming.

Stepping foot back on Chinese soil after almost five years was overwhelming. The constant chatter of Chinese around him, the familiar smells in the air, and the atmosphere that greeted Luhan was something that gave him strength immediately. And as he strode forward, his suitcase rolling behind him, he was finally confidentenough to believe that he could meet whatever was coming towards him with grace, dignity, and strength.

He spotted his mother easily enough just a few seconds later, dressed so severely from head to toe in black that Luhan feared that he’d been too late. Had his father already passed?

He saw her eye his stomach with distain but he refused to give her even the barest of reactions.

However, she lost his attention the second Luhan spotted the man standing just to her right, tall and handsome and reeking of familiarity.

“Xiao Lu,” the man greeted, a large smile looking brazen next to Luhan’s mother’s frown. “You’ve stayed away too long.”

Luhan came to a stop as his eyes raked over the man’s face, wondering how in just five years his old acquaintance had gone from a relatively thin, clever but smart mouthed high school student, to such a handsome, strong looking, posh gentleman.

“Wei,” Luhan said, bowing his head a bit. “What are you doing here?”

Luhan’s mother made a quick, sharp gesture for him to follow her, and soon enough Wei, Luhan’s onetime friend, was pulling his suitcase for him. They made quick time through the airport, and made it quickly outside.

“What are you doing here?” Luhan asked once more, confused and suddenly disoriented. The last time he’d seen Wu Guanwei the teen had been set to go off to college in America before returning to become his father’s protégé. Wei had kissed him right before their parting, certainly not asking Luhan to wait for him, but wanting something longterm.

“I’ll explain everything when we get to your house,” Wei said, handing Luhan’s suitcase off to their driver once the car was in sight.

Luhan maneuvered himself into the car as quickly as he could, asking, “The house? Shouldn’t we go to the hospital?”

It was Wei then who looked confused, eyebrows bunched together. “For what? Do you not feel well?”

In an instant Luhan knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. It was a feeling that had settled into the heaviest part of his stomach and was making him feel slightly light headed.

Luhan looked sharply to his mother. “You lied.”

Wei closed the door behind him, the driver starting the car, and Luhan knew he’d made a grave mistake.

“I did what was necessary,” his mother said, slipping sunglasses over her eyes as she looked away. “I brought you home the only way I knew how.”

Luhan clutched his stomach protectively and hunched over it a bit. He didn’t know what was going on, or how his mother could have lied to him about something so severe, but he did understand that he was in trouble. He was back in China now, in a place where he had next to no power, and he was now at the mercy of his parents.

Worse, he had his baby to think of, and to protect, and thoughts of her being in danger made him want to panic.

He was in trouble. He was in desperate trouble, and he had no idea how he was going to escape it.

Chapter Text

Strolling through the place like he already owned it, Sehun gestured for the others to follow him and pushed open western style double doors that would lead to a potential office space.

Behind him he heard Chen remark, “It is nice.”

And then Suho said, “So is his current house.”

Sehun glanced over his shoulder at the both of them. “Chen, you get best friend points for being supportive. Suho, you may have to walk home.”

Suho gave him a mock glare. “I drove. Good luck with that.”

With a sigh, Sehun surveyed the room. He’d already been to the new property twice before, and he’d seen the room many times over. It was much smaller than his old office space, but in a lot of ways he thought that would mean he’d want to spend less time cooped up in the room. Instead he’d have to learn how to balance his work a little more affectively at his main office, not bring it home so much, and devote more time to a toddler who was going to be walking before he ever realized it.

“You really like this place?” Chen asked, sliding up next to him.

“I do,” Sehun said with a nod. “It’s closer to the office.”

Suho interjected, “And closer to Luhan.”

“That too,” Sehun said, not trying to hide that. “If Luhan and I are going to be spending a lot of time over the next few decades at each others homes, I want the journey between them to be as short as possible.”

Suho wandered past the office space, through to the living room that was connected to an open looking kitchen. “It’s a lot smaller, Sehun, than your current house. Do you really want to downsize?”

With trembling fingers, Sehun closed the office double doors and leaned his forehead against the wood frame. “I’m sure. Suho.” Sehun tilted his head to stare at the man as Chen riffled through the kitchen distractedly. “Jae and I bought the other house because we liked how big it was. It had enough bedrooms for us to have more than a couple of kids. Luhan and I … we’re only having one. Suho, I’m only having one.”

Gently, Suho reminded, “Eventually you could remarry, Sehun. You’re still very young. You could still meet someone very nice, want to get married, and start a family.”

It soured Sehun’s mood to think about that. He didn’t want to move on from Jae or Luhan. And his daughter with Luhan was more than enough. He absolutely did not see himself in ten years remarried and a father to more than one.

“I don’t think so,” he said simply. “So right now this place is perfect. There’s just enough room for myself, the baby, and Luhan if he ever needs to stay over for any reason.”

At Luhan’s mention, Suho’s face softened. “How is Luhan? Have you heard from him since he left?”

Mouth set into a frown, Sehun had to shake his head. Luhan had promised he’d call once he landed in China safely, but no matter how Sehun had tried to wait patiently, the call had never come. And it had been two days now, which was why Sehun was trying to distract himself from the nagging feeling that Luhan wouldn’t simply forget something that important.

“His father just had a heart attack and isn’t expected to live for very long,” Sehun reasoned out, wondering if he was convincing himself or Suho. “I know he’ll call when he can, but right now, he has to take care of family business.”

Rounding the corner towards them, Chen asked, “Can I go look around upstairs? This place is really nice, Sehun. After Eunji and I get married, I might be eyeing that available space across the street.”

Sehun smiled back at him. Having Chen closer would actually be nice. For the past few years Sehun had gotten used to the idea that his best friend could be gone at a moment’s notice, flying off to take pictures of some war torn country, or snapping moments in time for profound editorial pieces about humanity. He’d tried to be supportive, but it was something that had made him a little bitter. So more than ever he was excited over the idea of Chen getting married. Because Chen getting married meant Chen settling down and staying in one place for a long while.

“Better get it quick if you’re serious.”

Suho cut in, “I can’t believe either of you are serious.”

“Why not?” Chen protested, moving up the stairs slowly. “If Sehun wants to move, let him. Suho, I’m starting to think you’re more attached to that house than Sehun is.”

If Suho was attached, Sehun understood why. It was the house that Suho had had a hand in helping his brother purchase. It was a house he’d spent an entire weekend moving things into, and it was where Jae had told him he was pregnant. It was the house that Suho had slept over at when Jae had needed support during almost violent bouts of morning sickness, while Sehun had been out of the country on a business trip he’d had to attend. It was the house Suho had helped decorate, helped make feel like a home, and it was the last place Suho had seen his brother alive at.

“Suho,” Sehun said quietly as he waved Chen up the stairs to look at the bedrooms. “I’m not trying to get rid of what reminds me of Jae, if that’s what you think.”

“Are you sure?” Suho wondered. “I think it’s great that you’re trying to move on from that dark place you were at, and I appreciate you attempting to be a productive member of society again, supporting Luhan and the fact that you’re about to become a father. And mom mentioned that the last time you called her, you asked for the number of the therapist she’s been seeing since Jae’s death. That’s commendable--admirable, even. But after you sell that house you bought with my brother, there won’t be much left to remind you of him.”

“That’s not true,” Sehun denied right away. But was it?

“I hope not,” Suho said, moving to the stairs. “I don’t want you to cling to the past, Sehun. But I also don’t want you to forget it.”

Fifteen minutes later Chen was bounding back down the stairs, declaring, “This is the place for you, Sehun. You can get to work and Luhan’s place in fifteen minutes from here, there’s enough space for when your daughter eventually yokes you into getting a puppy for her third Christmas, and it’s also near enough me that I can come drag you out when I think you’ve been inside for too long. Tell me you made an offer.”

“I made an offer,” Sehun said, avoiding eye contact with Suho. “I made an offer the second I closed sale on the old place. I think it’s all going to work out pretty quickly.”

Chen raised an eyebrow. “Then … moving party?”

“You mean an excuse or you and Baekhyun and Chanyeol and Kai to gather around and drink beer?” Suho asked.

Chen held up a corrective finger. “We only drink beer after we’ve finished moving everything in. Never before or during. Not since we nicked that antique table end of Baekhyun’s when we helped him move into his new place and he almost cried.”

Suho chuckled and Sehun reached into his pocket for his phone once more, swiping his thumb across the screen in a desperate hope that he simply hadn’t heard a call from Luhan.

“Still nothing?” Suho asked, and Sehun wished he didn’t look so pathetic.

“I should be patient.” Sehun said, but it was the last thing he wanted to be.

“No,” Chen soffed, “you should stop waiting for him to call you, and call him instead. Either he’s too busy to pick up the phone, in which you’ll leave him a nice voicemail reminding him to call you, or he picks up the phone, probably tells you he simply forgot, and you guys have a nice chat that makes it look like you aren’t about to pass a lump of coal as a diamond any second.”

Sehun gave Chen a dark look and a rude gesture. “Remind me again why you’re my best friend.”

Chen gave him a friendly slap as he passed by to the front door. “Because no one else would take you.”

“Come on,” Suho said, hooking Sehun by the crook of his arm easily and pulling him towards the front door. “I’ve seen enough of this place, and I think you have too.”

They caught lunch after that, just Sehun and Chen, with Suho ducking out after an explosive call to his cellphone about some kind of emergency at work.

Over a lunch of pizza and beer, Chen remarked, “When Luhan gets back, I want you and him to finally meet Eunji. It’s about time, don’t you think?”

“It’s crazy,” Sehun correctly. “That you’ve been dating this girl for almost two years and I still don’t know what she looks like.”

“I’ve shown you pictures,” Chen corrected. “You’ve just never met her. It has mostly to do with the fact that she’s been studying over seas off and on for the past few years. And then of couse whenever she’s back in the country you’re jetting off somewhere. But seriously, when Luhan gets back, I want the four of us to get together.” Chen fumbled for a minute, then pulled out his cellphone and turned it towards Sehun. “Here, to refresh your memory.”

Ah, Sehun remembered Eunji now. She had the particular habit of wearing her bangs cut low on her forehead, which mostly obscured her features. But she looked pretty enough … if not completely familiar.

“What?” Chen asked, noticing the look on his face.

“I just realized it,” Sehun said, peering at the photo again. “She looks really familiar for some reason. I swear I’ve seen her somewhere before.”

“In your dreams maybe,” Chen snorted, then he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“Whatever.” Sehun rolled his eyes. “Fine. Me, you, her, and Luhan when things settle down.” Then he paused wondering, “Why do you want the four of us together?”

“Because,” Chen said, forehead creasing in concentration. “one day you’re going to figure out just what Luhan means to you, and then you’ll be thankful for the four of us already being friends.”

Sehun pulled back a little. “Excuse me?”

“Eat your pizza,” Chen said with a sigh. “And call Luhan when you get the chance. Jeeze, I hope he comes back soon. I can’t stand this mopey face you have with him gone.”

Later that night after Sehun managed to squeeze out only a few hours of distracted work for the next day, he sat back in the recliner and found Luhan’s name easily in the phone book. Seoul was only an hour ahead of Beijing, which was where Luhan was nearest. So when he called, he half expected the phone to pick up almost immediately. When it went directly to voicemail, the disappointment in him was almost staggering.

“Luhan,” he said, still trying to work out what kind of message he was going to leave. “It’s Sehun. I just … I was worried. Are you okay? Call me if you have the time. I’ll pick up the phone for you no matter what. Call me if you want to talk, or just to let me know you’re okay. I … I miss you. Both of you.”

He wanted to call back immediately, but forcefully put the phone on the coffee table and resisted the urge. Luhan was dealing with something horrible at the moment. The last thing he needed was Sehun acting the part of a stalker, or even a boyfriend.

But by day three without contact, Sehun’s worry was overwhelming, and on the fourth, before Sehun’s blood pressure could skyrocket, Chanyeol poked his head through Sehun’s office door and said, “Hey, Xiumin’s here.”

Sehun put down the tablet he’d been idly sketching on and sat up straight. “What? Xiumin?”

A half second later Xiumin was striding purposefully into Sehun’s office, a dark look on his face.

Not even waiting for Chanyeol to leave, Xiumin demanded, “Has Luhan contacted you?”

Sehun shook his head quickly. “He hasn’t called you, either?”

“No,” Xiumin snapped, “and he would have. Something is wrong.”

Sehun swallowed past the lump in his throat. “His father is going to die any day. He’s dealing with a mother who has never supported him. I think he’s a little distracted. We should give him time.”

“No,” Xiumin insisted. “I’m telling you, I know something is wrong, and I think you do too.”

“I do,” Sehun admitted quickly enough. “Luhan said he’d call, and I could see him forgetting the first night, but its been four days now. He knew I was nervous about him going to China so far into his pregnancy. He would have called if he was able to.” He and Xiumin had certainly had their differences before, but on the subject of Luhan, they were a united front.

“That’s what I’m getting at.”

“Huh?”

Xiumin clarified, “If he was able to.”

Unable to go down that thought process just yet, Sehun asked, “What about Lay? Kris? Has he contacted Tao?”

“Nothing,” Xiumin said. “It’s like Luhan has completely fallen off the radar, and I’m actually scared for what it means. Do you have any idea what his parents are like?”

Sehun offered, “Unsupportive, judgemental, harsh.”

“Controling,” Xiumin told him flatly. “Before Luhan came to Korea, they controlled him completely. They told him which school to go to, which friends to have, what extracurricular activities to take part in, and they even decided what he’d wear, or how he’d get his hair cut. When I say they controlled him completely, I mean it. What if they’re stopping him from getting in contact with us?”

The idea was terrifying.

“But Luhan isn’t a child anymore,” Sehun argued. “He isn’t a minor. He’s a grown adult. How much control could they still have over him?”

“I don’t know,” Xiumin admitted. “But there is this terrible feeling in my gut that Luhan is in trouble and he needs our help. God, I’d feel just a little better if he’d just answer the phone when I called. If I could just speak to him, I wouldn’t be so freaked out.”

The downright uncertainty in Xiumin’s face made him just a bit endearing to Sehun. He’d never really seen Xiumin as anything but overbearing and stubborn. This was different, however.

Sehun tapped Luhan’s number in his own phone. “It’s the same for me. Straight to voicemail.”

Therefore, it was completely and utterly unexpected that the line connected and Luhan asked, “Sehun?”

Sehun lunged to bring the phone up to his ear, Xiumin darted forwards as well.

“Luhan!” Sehun said loudly, feeling breathless. “Are you okay? What’s happening? Why didn’t you call? Are you--”

Luhan said easily, “--really been giving this some thought, Sehun. I belong at home with my parents. I belong in China. I’m going to stay. You understand, right?”

“Are you kidding?” Sehun thundered, just as Xiumin demanded to know, “What’s he saying!”

“I’ve been speaking with my parents,” Luhan continued. “They’ve really opened my eyes. I was … foolhardy and young when I went to Korea. I was naïve. But I think I finally have my feet firmly on the ground, so I won’t be coming back.”

“You hate what your parents made you feel,” Sehun hissed angrily. “You hate that they didn’t support you, or value you as an artist, or simply want you to be happy. You are not trying to tell me that they’re going to let you paint over there.”

Xiumin slammed a hand down on Sehun’s desk. “Put him on speaker phone.”

Sehun hit the button just as he pressed a finger to his lips. Luhan’s voice was strained. There was something more going on that Sehun didn’t want Xiumin to ruin.

“Painting is for children,” Luhan said, and Sehun was willing to risk anything in the world that Luhan had choked the words out. “My family has a lucrative business in the medical field. I’m going to be overseeing that from now on.”

“Luhan,” Sehun whispered his heart pounding so loud all the way up to his ear. “Is someone making you say this?”

A stale laugh followed. “Who would be making me say anything? Please, Sehun. Now, I’ll need you to say goodbye to the others for me,” Luhan said. “Tell Suho I’m sorry couldn’t do that job for him at his dance studio, and that I appreciate Baekhyun being my best friend for all those years.”

Sehun’s eyes jerked up to Xiumin and he knew they both understood the situation. Luhan wasn’t simply mixed up. And he wasn’t the only one who could hear the conversation on his end.

“I …” Sehun wasn’t sure how to proceed now.

“I know this is going to be difficult for you at first,” Luhan said, “But I’m really very happy here with Wei and my old friends. Will you pass on those messages to the others?”

Voice cracking, Sehun asked, “What about the baby? What about our daughter?”

This time there was a significant delay on Luhan’s end. Until finally he said, “I know we’ve fought almost constantly over her.”

They hadn’t. That was a downright lie. In the beginning they’d fought about Sehun taking responsibility, but since then they’d gotten along remarkably well. And the one thing there’d never been any tension over, the one thing that Sehun knew they were both explicitly clear about, was their baby.

“So …”

“I may have misjudged how ready I am to be a father,” Luhan said finally, his voice pitchy. “I think, seeing as she’ll been half Korean, that she might be better suited with you. I’ll have her here, and then my parents will see to it that she’s safely delivered into your waiting arms as soon as she’s old enough to travel.”

“Luhan.”

“Don’t worry about my things,” Luhan said. “I don’t have anything of particular importance at my apartment and everything else can be replaced.”

Sehun could hear Xiumin breathing in raggedly next to him, and Sehun was completely at a loss.

“Don’t contact me again, Sehun. Please. I need to make a clean break and start over. Do you understand. Do you understand what I’ve told you?”

Finally, Sehun recovered his wits, and he was almost certain he knew what Luhan was asking. “I understand. don’t worry, Luhan. I understand completely.”

Luhan gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

When the phone call ended, Xiumin shouted explosively, “Someone made him say that!”

“I know,” Sehun said, tossing his phone down on the desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Someone was listening on his end. He had to be careful what he said. But you’re right, he is in danger. There’s something wrong. He’s in trouble.”

“I’m going to kill them if they’ve threatened or hurt Luhan in some way,” Xiumin vowed.

Sehun asked with a frown, “Did you hear what he said? He said he’d been talking with his parents. He said his parents helped him see where he really needed to be. His parents. Xiumin, his father is supposed to be on his death bed.”

Xiumin’s eyes widened. “What if that was a lie? We both know that there was no way Luhan was going home to China any time soon of his own volition. He was too afraid of the kind of control his parents would try to exercise over him, and he really wasn’t going to bring a baby with him. I bet his parents knew that, too. Sehun, I think his mother lied to him and said that his father had suffered a medical emergency, knowing that was the only way he’d leave Korea.”

“So what are we going to do?” Sehun asked.

“Get your coat,” Xiumin said, “we have to go to the university.”

It was Lay they were actually going to see. Sehun realized that as soon as they were parked at the university and striding directly towards a building that housed mainly classes for graduate students.

“Lay’s parents work in the government sector in China,” Xiumin explained as they climbed stairs. “If Luhan can’t get back here, it means his parents have something on him, or they’ve taken his passport and visa. He can’t even book a flight without his passport, and he can’t enter the country without his work visa.”

“What will Lay’s parents be able to do about that?” Sehun asked.

“I don’t know,” Xiumin told him. “But I hope Lay does.”

“What exactly do you want me to tell my parents?” Lay asked when they caught him coming out of one of his classes. “I want to help as much as possible, but I don’t know what you want me to tell them. That Luhan’s parents are keeping him hostage?”

There was no way Sehun was letting Luhan’s parents keep him. There was no way that he wasn’t going to fight for Luhan, and for the life they’d carved out for themselves. Luhan’s parents probably thought they were clever, but Sehun was desperate, and he thought that trumped cleverness.

“I don’t care what you tell them,” Sehun said, straightening his shoulders. “But I have a passport and I’m going to get Luhan.”

Xiumin gave him a startled look. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Sehun said. He was going to go and personally bring Luhan home, and no one, not Luhan’s parents, were going to stop him. “I’m going to get him. But I need you, Lay, to have your parents figure out a way to get Luhan back in the country. What you tell them is up to you, but you have to make it happen.”

Lay sighed deeply. “This isn’t going to be easy, you realize, and they’re going to ask a whole lot of questions.”

“We know,” Xiumin said, “and we’re thankful.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Lay warned, “but if I were in trouble, Luhan would help me. And we can’t let those assholes he calls parents keep him.”

“Do you think they’ll hurt him?” Sehun asked, looking between Lay and Xiumin. If Luhan’s parents dared to touch him …

“Not physically,” Xiumin said, and he sounded sure. “Luhan told me that when he was younger, he’d push the limits all the time, just to see how worked up he could get his parents. He did all sorts of rebellious teenage things and his parents could lecture him for hours without getting tired, but they never raised a hand to him. They didn’t have to, not when they controlled his future. They won’t hit him or hurt him in that way, but there are plenty other ways for them to do it.”

“Give me time,” Lay said, phone already in his hands. “Give me a day.”

Sehun offered a shaky. “Okay. Thank you, Lay.”

From the moment he’d figured out Luhan was in trouble, to the second he’d volunteered to go after him, Sehun regretted nothing. Luhan wasn’t just the person who was carrying and protecting his child, but Luhan was also a friend. He was welcoming and funny, strong and confident, and he was everything that Sehun had needed in his life after losing Jae, even if he hadn’t wanted it.

Not to mention the fact that every time Sehun looked at Luhan now, his gut clenched up like he was sixteen again and getting his first kiss. Luhan made his heart speed up, his legs feel boneless, and if Sehun weren’t still such a coward, he could admit to himself what all of that meant.

Maybe he could after he brought Luhan back.

Booking a flight was easy enough, even with the last minute fees and having to travel coach. It had cost him a fool’s fortune, but as he stuffed clothing into a carry-on bag for the flight, simultaneously calling Chanyeol, he still regretted absolutely nothing.

Luhan was the kind of person to go above and beyond for the people he called friends. Luhan would have risked everything for Sehun, if it had been him in danger. So this was the absolute least that Sehun could do.

“What’s going on with Luhan?” Chanyeol asked the second he was on the line.

“I’m going to China,” Sehun said, cutting him off.

“China!”

“Luhan needs me, there’s been an … emergency. So I’m going to China and I need you to tell the boss.”

Nervously, Chanyeol eased out, “Sehun, we have that project that’s due in a few days. I don’t think this is the time to leave the country.”

“Trust me,” Sehun shot back, balling up a pair of pants and shoving them down in the bag. “If I don’t go now, I don’t know if I’ll get another shot at getting Luhan back.”

“Back? Sehun, what did you meant when you said Luhan needs you? What kind of emergency? Oh, Christ, is the baby okay?”

Sehun paused. His boss, while not aware of the circumstances around Luhan’s pregnancy, was privy to the fact that Sehun was the father. Sehun had been forced to tell him when he’d made the decision to take off several weeks after the baby’s birth to help Luhan care for the newborn.

“Yeah … it’s … umm …”

“What’s wrong with the baby?” Chanyeol demanded.

“Just tell the boss it’s about the baby,” Sehun said, and he hoped that the universe wouldn’t hold the slight fib against him. For the baby, Sehun might escape any sort of ramifications that might come from ditching out work for god knew how long.

“Okay, okay.”

“I’m leaving now,” Sehun said, zipping the bag closed and pulling the strap over his head. “I’m sorry to leave you high and dry like this at work, but it is an emergency.”

Chanyeol insisted, “No, man, why didn’t you say it was about your daughter? Shit, go, Sehun. Go.”

Sehun didn’t need to be told twice.

Lay and Xiumin met him at the airport, the both of them looking like they hadn’t slept a wink, but Lay seemingly happier than Xiumin.

“Good news?” Sehun asked as they walked quickly to his departure gate.

“My parents weren’t exactly thrilled,” Lay said, phone in hand. “But they may have come up with something, at least once I explained the severity of the situation.”

“What did you tell them?” Sehun asked.

Lay shook his head. “I said that Luhan was important to you, that your baby was important, and that I’d come home a year sooner if they did this for me.”

“Come home early?” Sehun asked, slowing a bit.

Xiumin offered guiltily, “Lay wasn’t even supposed to stay in Korea for graduate school. He was supposed to go home to China for it. His parents only agreed to extend his stay because--”

“Because,” Lay cut in, “I promised to be an honorable son and get married as soon as I came home.”

“You’re getting married?” Sehun demanded.

Flatly, Lay returned, “I’ve known I was getting married since I was old enough to tie my shoes. My family is fairly influential in the political sphere, and families of this nature often set their children up, regardless of what said children might prefer. Things are very different here, Sehun, than they are in China.”

“Oh, Lay,” Sehun said, feeling beyond guilty. “You shouldn’t have had to do this.”

“It’s not life changing,” Lay said, and he gave an easy shrug. “Yiru and I are friends, actually, and we get along quite well. It’s a good match for our families, and we’re complimentary people. Actually, she’s going to be waiting for you in China when you get off the plane.”

It was then that Lay turned his phone fully to Sehun and showed him a picture of young and beautiful woman. “This is her?” Sehun asked.

Lay nodded. “This is Yiru. She’ll take care of you once you arrive. She’ll make sure you get to Luhan, make contact, and get him successfully to the airport. My parents will do the rest. You shouldn’t have any problem getting on a plane, but you have to be the one to get there with Luhan. That’s on you. Got it?

Sehun felt a little slack jawed. “That’s amazing, Lay. Holy shit.”

“Sehun,” Lay said, letting him get one last look at the picture. “Luhan’s parents aren’t going to make this easy on you. Yiru will do all she can to make sure that you get in contact with Luhan, but his parents are going to be a roadblock. Try not to cause any international incidents over this, okay?”

“No promises,” Sehun said, but for the first time his smile felt real. His chance at getting Luhan back, felt real.

Before Sehun got on the plane Xiumin told him, “If I could go with you, I would. My passport renewal hasn’t come through yet, and we can’t afford to wait.”

“It’s okay,” Sehun said, shrugging his bag up a little higher. His plane hadn’t started boarding yet, and he had a couple of minutes to spare. “Lay’s … significant other … is going to help me.”

“I should be there,” Xiumin said. “I should be helping you, not some stranger that doesn’t have any vested interest in Luhan or even know him.”

Sehun said, “I really don’t care who helps me. I just want to get Luhan out of there.”

Just as he turend to go, boarding pass in hand, Xiumin pulled at him again. “There’s one other thing.”

“What else could there be?” Sehun asked exasperatedly.

“On the phone,” Xiumin said, eyes narrowing. “Luhan mentioned someone other than his parets. He mentioned Wei.”

“Who’s Wei?”

Xiumin clarified, “Wu Guanwei. Luhan told me about him once. His parents and Luhan’s parents are both in the medical field. Luhan’s parents are in the technology manufacturing realm, and Wei’s are hospital chair holders. Luhan told me part of the reason he left China at the first chance he got was because he was scared that his parents were going to push for what Lay’s have.”

Sehun froze. “An arranged marriage? Luhan thought his parents were going to try and push him to get married to this Wei guy?”

“Luhan thought so,” Xiumin nodded. “So if Luhan’s parents are up to something right now, and I think it’s safe to say they are, Wu Guanwei might be involved. I don’t know who he is, or what kind of person he is, but we both know Luhan is above attractive, smart, charming, and the kind of man anyone could fall in love with. Be prepared for that just in case.”

Sehun’s flight was announced as he nodded and told Xiumin, “I’ll be back soon, and with Luhan. Hold the fort down.”

Xiumin surprised him then by reaching out and shaking his hand firmly. And then by saying, “You’re a better man than I ever wanted to give you credit for, Sehun. When you get back, do you want to try and give this friendship thing another go?”

Sehun shook his hand firmly. “That sounds great to me. And hey, Luhan is going to be thrilled to finally get what he always wanted from us.”

“Go get him,” Xiumin said by way of parting.

Sehun had never been more determined in his life.

And when he stepped foot onto Chinese soil, a place that he’d never been before, that determination was still with him. He spotted Yiru easily in the crowd and shuffled his way over to her, the flying having left him a little achy.

“Fah Yiru?” Sehun asked, giving her a respectful half bow.

She returned the bow to him easily and said, “Oh Sehun. I’m here to help you. Yixing explained everything.”

Unsure, Sehun asked, “Yixing?”

She gave him a kind smile. “Lay.”

“Oh,” Sehun eased out. Then he took a deep, steadying breath and said, “He told you that Luhan is the most important person to me on this planet right now? And that he’s pregnant with my child?”

She gestured for him to follow her and said, “He did. Don’t worry. I’ve already located him at his family home west of Beijing, and I swear to you that I will help you bring him here to return to Korea.”

“Okay,” Sehun said, nodding. “Take me to where he is.”

Chapter Text

He was a prisoner in his own home.

No, Luhan corrected himself immediately. This wasn’t his home. His home was back in Korea, a tiny but homely apartment with his paints and his pictures and his forever visiting friends. Home was not a secluded estate in the countryside with white walls, echoing halls, and distrust in every corner. Home was not a prison cell.

But it was where he was now.

It was where he’d been for six days, ever since the frightful realization that his parents had tricked him into coming back to China, and then stolen the freedom and independence that he’d worked so hard to achieve for himself.

One more time Luhan gave another look around the bedroom he hadn’t slept in since high school. It was just as bare and lifeless as he remembered, with rows of reference books on black shelves, a laptop on a desk that wouldn’t work now even if he wanted it to, and all the items that provided the illusion that it was the room belonging to a intelligent, hard working student. It was the room his parents had wanted for him, devoid of the art that made his soul so happy.

Perched on the edge of the bed, Luhan let his toes dig in to the plush carpet. The room was stifling. It was suffocating. It was robbing him of his sanity.

But it was still better than walking the lonely cold halls of the house.

In the beginning, just days after realizing he was virtual prisoner in the house, Luhan had scouted relentlessly for a way out. But there were people mucking around everywhere, including his father’s security force, the hired help, and most importantly, Wei. Wei was at the house every day, attempting to engage him, offering him warm smiles and deceivingly kind words. No matter what door Luhan tried to slip out through, and regardless that he had no way to get the long way into town, every attempt was thwarted.

He wasn’t going anywhere, at least not until he agreed to his parent’s terms.

Said terms had been made explicitly clear to him as well.

His father, stern faced and looking harsher than Luhan remembered, had said to him over breakfast, “There’s nothing to be done until we send that thing back to Korea.”

That thing. The baby. Luhan had hunched protectively over his daughter at those words. His baby wasn’t even a person to his parents, merely an obstacle. And it was one they couldn’t wait to get rid of.

For Luhan, the idea of being separated from his baby was enough to imagine what it felt like to have his heart ripped out. She was moving more and more frequently now, restless with her lack of space as the days ticked by. But already Luhan was learning her personality. She loved sweet things, hated spicy, and most certainly was a night owl. She reacted favorably to noise, in particular soothing voices and music, but detested anyone rubbing too harshly against Luhan’s stomach.

She was unique and interesting and Luhan loved her like he breathed, so damn easily.

If his parents took her from him, like they planned to, Luhan wasn’t sure he’d have much left to live for.

After his father’s brash words, his mother had tried a bit more diplomatically, “You were always meant to marry Wei, Luhan. There’s a reason the two of you were put together so frequently as children. Naturally you can’t marry him until you deliver, but afterward you’ll be free to do so.”

Free.

Wasn’t that a load of it.

There was nothing freeing about the idea of being forced to marry someone he didn’t love, not when Sehun was lurking in his heart, and not when refusing to do so meant that Luhan was going to be cooped up in a home he had no love for like a prisoner. Maybe for years and years.

In the eyes of his parents, their offer was a just one. If Luhan married Wei, and immediately began taking an interest in his father’s company, he’d be able to leave the house and resume a normal life. They thought Wei was a good choice. They didn’t care that Luhan felt utterly betrayed by the man he’d once called a friend.

A sharp knock on Luhan’s bedroom door was the only preface to Wei’s head poking in. As always he was clean shaven, friendly and cautious as he moved into Luhan’s space.

“Do you live here now?” Luhan asked flatly, keeping a secure hand on his stomach.

“I don’t,” Wei said cordially. “But your father has been like family to me all these years. I often come for meals. You’d know that if you bothered to leave this room more than once every couple of days.”

With a huff, Luhan looked away and to the window. There was nothing but blue skies to see, and the color felt like a taunt. “This is your eighth attempt to lure me out of my room for a meal. What are you having trouble understanding? Am I not speaking clearly enough?”

“You know, Han,” Wei said, leaning casually on the door, “It wouldn’t kill you to come to a family meal. You haven’t been to once since that first morning.”

Luhan demanded, “And what meal was that? Oh, it was the meal where my parents told me I had to give my baby up, marry you, and only then would I be allowed out. Forgive me if that wasn’t the best meal of my life.”

He’d been taking his food in his rooms since then, wary of his wildly fluctuating blood sugar and the stress that coming to China had brought upon him. More than once he’d felt some cramping in his stomach and panicked spectacularly.

“I’ve got a deal for you.”

Luhan glanced away from the window and back at him. “I’ve got a suggestion for you. Go to hell.”

Wei pressed on, as if Luhan had barely spoken. “I know you want to get out of here. These same walls must be driving you crazy. If you come to breakfast now, and dinner later tonight, we’ll take a stroll around the grounds together.”

“Endure my parents so that you can walk me like a puppy?” Luhan rolled his eyes. “I’ll pass. Or better, come back when you have something more substantial to offer.”

That wouldn’t happen. His parents weren’t willing to risk him getting out and contacting anyone for help. Though really, Luhan wasn’t sure anyone could help. His parents were staggeringly influential. Not to mention the first things his parents had taken from him, before he’d even realized what was happening, were both his passport and his work visa. He couldn’t leave China without one, and he couldn’t get back into Korea without the other. There was no where for him to go, and no one to help him.

Everything felt so tragic.

“You know I can’t do better than that,” Wei said.

Luhan shrugged. “Then you can tell the cook I’ll take my breakfast in here. Go away, Wei. I have nothing more to say to you.”

Eyes softening, Wei reminded, “We were really good friends when we were kids, Luhan.”

“That’s right, friends.”

“You didn’t think for a second that our parents weren’t going to arrange something between us? I’m the heir to my family, and you’re the same for yours. The merger of our two families through our marriage would benefit everyone. Luhan, I understand that you think it’s not fair for your feelings, but this is just business. It’s not about feelings at all.”

Luhan repeated himself, “Go away. And take with you your condescending bullshit, because I am never going to marry you. Never. I would rather sit in this prison and rot a million years. Think that over.”

It would destroy Luhan to be parted from his baby, but if it came to it, she’d be safe with Sehun. Sehun would care for her and love her and he’d be the best father in the world. Sometimes Luhan looked at Sehun and thought that the man doubted himself. But Luhan had never doubted Sehun, and if he raised their daughter alone, she’d grow up to be beautiful, healthy and happy.

With a sigh, Wei nodded. “Alright. I’ll tell your parents.”

He closed the door softly and Luhan flung a nearby pillow at it harshly. The soft object bounded gently to the floor, but for a second it had felt good.

Rolling himself up to his feet Luhan made his way to his closet and pulled the doors open. Pushing aside hangers he reached towards the back with some effort and shoved down on the wall until he heard a soft clicking sound.

When he’d been fourteen, finding the hidden room behind his closet had been the best moment of his life thus far. The narrow passageway, found by complete accident, led to a space that could barely be called a room, but had come to be Luhan’s special place over the years. It was a secret room that allowed him to be himself and be free, while keeping his bedroom as the kind of illusion it needed to be.

Now Luhan peered into the room, hitting the light switch just inside the passageway. With his stomach as big as it was now, getting into the room was going to be downright impossible, but he could still stand in his closet and look. He could see the paints he’d smuggled into the house, the sketchbooks in the corner, and all the evidence that he’d discovered who he was in the room, and not who he was supposed to be.

Luhan ducked out the closet a second later. It was too dangerous to risk looking for more than a second. People had an unfortunate habit of barging into his room now, no doubt to keep him under surveillance.

Briefly, Luhan thought about the one supervised call he’d been allowed to recieve from Sehun. He’d tried to code it with as many hidden messages as possible, and he could only hope that he’d conveyed his situation. It was hard to tell, however, because Sehun had sounded upset, but resolved on the phone. Had he really understood what Luhan had been saying, or had it all been for nothing?

Six days Luhan had been in China, and two days since the call. It wasn’t that Luhan thought it was possible for Sehun to get a message to him, but Luhan’s hope was fading fast.

Breakfast, a fruit medley and warm oats, was taken in his room like always, the silence of the space his only companion. Constant checks to his blood sugar made him long for his doctor and how comfortable she made him feel, and dread the idea that a doctor he didn’t know or trust was going to handle his baby.

It was unexpected that just a few hours later another knock came to his door and Wei was back once more.

“You just can’t get enough, can you?” Luhan asked. This time, he decided, he’d throw a shoe.

Wei wasted no time in saying, “You wanted a better deal. I come with your request.”

Luhan’s fingers curled around the nearby footwear.

Wei said, “Your parents want to see you show some effort. If you start coming to meals, acting respectfully, and show some initiative with your father’s company, they’re supportive of the idea of rewarding you.”

Luhan’s eyes narrowed. “In which way?”

“There’s a town nearby,” Wei said. “This time of year, every Sunday in the afternoon they hold a huge outdoor market. You behave for your parents, and I’ll take you there.”

There was no way that was an offer on the table. It was so confounding that Luhan had to ask skeptically, “And what’s to stop me from going running into the hills? I know that’s what my parents think I plan to do every second of every day.”

“Beijing,” Wei supplied, “is forty minutes away. I doubt you could run four minutes, in your condition. And, like I said, I’ll be with you the whole time. A lot is ridding on my shoulders to make this merger happen, so trust that I’m not going to let you out of my sight for a second.”

Luhan leaned back on his bed and questioned, “You’re really okay with this? You’re okay with doing this to me? It doesn’t bother you that you and my parents are trying to force me into something that is going to hurt me? You’re that kind of man?”

“I’m a desperate one,” Wei corrected, and Luhan had no idea what he meant by that. “Unlike you, Han, I put my family first. I’m willing to do something I don’t want to, in order to honor and respect them. What kind of man are you not to do the same?”

Luhan shook his head. “Those people are not my family, Wei.”

“Think about the offer,” Wei said, pulling the door behind him. “Today is Friday. The market is on Sunday.”

The terrible thing was, Luhan was absolutely certain that Wei had known he’d jump at the deal, long before it was even offered.

For the next two days Luhan pretended he was an actor. He pretended that he was some glamorous American movie star in Hollywood, working on his next big project. The role? A pious and dutiful son. Motivation? Hatred for said parents and a thirst for freedom. The payoff? Escape.

His parents weren’t buying for a second, Luhan wasn’t stupid, but oddly enough, as Sunday came around, so did a car with a driver and Wei in the backseat.

As they drove along to the market, Luhan rolled down the window, rested his arms on the ledge and turned his head up towards the sun. The warmth beat down on his skin and he was able to block out everything with his imagination. And he was certainly imagining himself anywhere else, without Wei in tow.

The market was bustling with life, hundreds of stalls crammed into one place, people pushing through each other, bumping and chatting, and not even the slightest bit aware that Luhan was in trouble.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Wei said, pulling at his arm a little painfully as they walked towards the first venders. No one will help you if you ask for it, and you won’t get far if you try to run. Don’t make your parents regret allowing you to be here.”

Luhan tugged his arm back harshly, barking out, “Gee, Wei, I wouldn’t want to disappointed them. That would just break my heart.” Then he spied a stand of cherries and made a beeline for it.

The best and most redeeming part of the market was that Luhan’s pregnancy actually aided him for once. He couldn’t carry much, and lifting any kind of weight was out of the question. That meant that whatever Luhan bought, and he was trying his best to spend as much of his parent’s money as possible, Wei had to carry.

Luhan was eyeing the watermelons next.

But it was just as he was passing a grouping of venders selling bright yellow and wonderful smelling lemons, that Luhan staggered a bit. His feet twisted up under him and Wei lunged to catch him, demanding, “Han? Are you okay?”

Sehun.

Luhan could barely suck enough air in through his clenched teeth. That was … he was absolutely certain he’d seen Sehun.

But that wasn’t possible. Sehun was back in Korea, quite possibly preparing to cut Luhan from his life completely. How could Sehun be anywhere near China?

“I need to sit down,” Luhan said shakily, and he wasn’t faking the way his knees wobbled.

There was a nearby foodcourt area that Wei led him to, and then eased him down on to a bench.

“You’re all red in the face,” Wei observed. “Are you feeling well? Too hot?”

Luhan honestly felt the opposite. There was such a chill running through him as his eyes darted around almost frantically, searching for the familiar, impossible face.

Then …

There!

Luhan saw him again, just behind the lemons, tall and handsome and wonderful in his presence.

Sehun started back and Luhan took a moment to register that Wei was touching his face.

“Careful,” Wei said as Luhan jerked back. His thumbs brushed across Luhan’s cheeks and it was only then that he realized he was crying. “I think we should go home.”

“No!” Luhan shouted, and it was too frantic, too loud, and probably too obvious. But he had to find a way to make contact with Sehun. If he went back to the house, Sehun would be as good as gone.

“Han?”

“I just need some water,” Luhan said, fanning himself with his hand. “It is too hot. Could you get me some water?” He pointed deliberately to the long line of people waiting at the nearby drink stall.

Wei offered hand to him. “Okay, up you go.”

“I’m lightheaded,” Luhan complained, rubbing his fingers across his forehead. “Go get a bottle of water for me, please. I’ll be right here. I won’t move.”

Wei gave him a blank stare, and Luhan found himself holding his breath.

Eventually, Wei reminded, “If you try to run--”

Luhan gave a loud, deliberate sigh. “I’m in the middle of nowhere. Where could I go? Who would help me? Wei, go get me some water. Then we can buy a couple more things and go back. Unless you want to head back to the watermelon stand I saw on the way in. You look like you could carry at least two, maybe three.”

It was seconds more before Wei was heading to the water stall.

Sehun dared to move closer and Luhan launched himself off his feet, heading towards him as quickly as he could. But he stopped prematurely at a stand of lemons, squeezed a few and then looked over his shoulder towards Wei.

Like Luhan’s parents, Wei wasn’t stupid either. He had a murderous look on his face, but he hadn’t moved out of line. Luhan gestured at the fruit, flashed Wei an okay signal, and then turned away.

“Luhan,” Sehun’s rumbling and downright symphonic voice said.

Just a moment later Sehun was standing next to him, doing his best to look like he was merely doing the same as Luhan, hunting for the best fruit.

“What are you doing here?” Luhan asked. Then his voice cracked as he added, “I’m so happy to see you. God, Sehun, how are you here? Please don’t let me be dreaming.”

“You’re not,” Sehun said, eyes locked on the fruit. “I knew you were in trouble.”

“It’s my parents,” Luhan said quickly. He had mere minutes before Wei was back. “They tricked me. My father isn’t sick. He’s perfectly fine. But they’ve taken my passport and work via. And until now, they didn’t let me leave the house. I’ve got a watchdog even now.”

“That asshole over there?” Sehun asked, then reached for a bag to place his fruit in. “You just give me the word; I can take him.”

“No,” Luhan whispered. “I think … I don’t think he’s the only one watching me. I think there’s someone else, too, I just haven’t been able to spot them. Sehun, my parents want to force me to marry Wei. They want to take my baby from me. I don’t know how to get away. I don’t know how you can help.”

Sehun handed some money over to the vender. “Don’t worry. I’ve got some inside help. You just take care of our girl, and I’ll do the rest. I promise, I’ve got a plan.”

“Sehun,” Luhan said, unable to keep from looking at him.

Sehun’s eyes were hazel colored and filled with so much affection that Luhan nearly swayed again. “I can’t believe you came for me.”

Sharply, Sehun said, “I will always come for you. For the both of you. Never doubt that.”

“Sehun … I …”

“Can you get out of the house again?” Sehun asked sharply, rushing the words out. “I’ve been watching that place or days now, and this is the first time I’ve had a chance to get near you. I need you to trust me and get yourself out of that house one more time, and soon. Can you do that?”

Sehun made Luhan feel like he could do anything. “I’ll get it done.”

Sehun flashed him a grin, then he was bounding off, brushing past a returning Wei who was seemingly none the wiser.

“I …” Luhan trailed off.

He was even more sure of how much he loved Sehun in that moment.

“Here,” Wei said, handing him a wet bottle of water that was icy to the touch. “I thought you were going to stay right over there.”

“I thought you wanted to go,” Luhan said, giving the vender his money and holding up a bag full of fruit. “I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. These are the last things I wanted to get. Complaints?”

“Just do as I say next time,” Wei said, and then they were setting off towards the car.

It took all the willpower in Luhan not to look for Sehun as they left. Sehun had said he had a plan. He wanted Luhan to trust him. Luhan was not going to risk blowing Sehun’s cover in any way.

But he had to leave the house again. That was the only thing Sehun had asked from him, and Luhan was not going to let him down. Luhan just didn’t know how he was going to manage it.

Well, he did, but it was a supremely bad idea, and it meant risking his baby in a way that he wasn’t sure was worth the payout in the end.

“If we do this,” he said to his stomach that night, lying in bed as the moon shone down into the room, “if I do this, it could end badly for us.” Forever a nighttime baby, she was rolling around in him apparently, active and wide awake. “I don’t want to risk you in any way, baby, but if I don’t do this, your daddy may not be able to help us.”

When her foot thudded against Luhan’s kidney, he wasn’t sure what to think. He only knew one thing, and was that his parents weren’t going to let him leave the house anytime soon unless it was an emergency. Luhan was going to have to manufacture an emergency.

When Luhan pulled himself to dinner two nights later, his feet dragging, head pounding and joints aching, it was two days after his last attempt to regulate his blood sugar levels.

“What’s wrong with you?” his mother asked, eyeing him over the rim of a generously filled wine glass.

“I don’t feel well,” Luhan said, and he knew he looked it. He’d certainly toyed with the idea of faking a severe drop in his blood sugar levels, but he had no doubt his parents would require some kind of proof before they believed him. They’d have to see for themselves. “I think …”

“The child?” his mother asked, and that seemed to catch his father’s attention.

Naturally, Luhan assumed, he was worth nothing to them or the family if he was to die during childbirth or before.

Slumping into the chair, Luhan said, “I think it’s my blood sugar. I missed a dose.”

His mother snapped at a nearby staff member to fetch his glucose meter just as Wei appeared for dinner. It was Luhan’s hope that none of them would understand that simply missing one dose on accident of his medication wouldn’t cause the predicament he was in currently.

“What’s going on?” Wei asked eyebrows pulled in a worrying frown as the meter appeared and Luhan pricked his finger to draw the blood.

Luhan steadied himself, then as the number flashed on the screen, said, “I need to go to the hospital. Now.”

“Please,” his father scoffed.

“Do you know what this number means?” Luhan asked, hand shaking as he turned the device towards his father. “I need to go to the hospital. It’s too low. I … this is a serious matter.”

Wei, surprisingly, spoke up, saying, “It is. My cousin is diabetic. If Luhan thinks he should go to the hospital, for the sake of his health, then he should. I’ll take him personally.”

Luhan bit back a groan. The last thing he needed was Wei coming with him. Still. He couldn’t exactly afford to be picky.

“Can you take me?” Luhan asked, trying to sound as little as a threat as possible.

“Take him,” his mother said eventually. “Call us if we should be there.”

Luhan was certain that meant if he was in danger of dying.

Luhan wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or not that they were headed directly towards Beijing, and not for a more rural doctor in the area.

And an hour later Luhan was tucked into a private room, his blood sugar stabilizing, and his nerves evening out. Wei had left to fill out some paperwork and Luhan was debating the merits of making a run for it regardless of his condition.

At least until Sehun slipped into the room, a white doctor’s coat across his shoulders.

Still a little loopy from the medication running through him, Luhan took one look at Sehun and declared, “You’re the most handsome doctor I’ve ever seen.”

Sehun all but raced to Luhan’s side, demanding, “Are you okay? Is the baby? I said get yourself out of the house, not put yourself in the hospital!”

Sehun’s hand was nearby and Luhan reached for it, careful of the IV protruding from the back of his hand. “It was the only way.” It felt so good to touch Sehun again. “They wouldn’t let me leave for anything less than a medical emergency.”

“Luhan,” Sehun said worriedly.

“I’m fine,” Luhan sighed out. “Hey, why do you have a doctor’s coat on?”

Luhan got his answer seconds later when Sehun began pulling Luhan up, the clothing that Luhan had worn to the hospital already in his hands. “Come on,” he said. “That guy who’s always hovering around you won’t stay gone forever, and he may not be the only pair of eyes around. Are you okay to travel? We need to leave immediately.”

Luhan pinched the IV in his arm carefully and slid the needle out. “I can go. Can you get my shoes?”

With Luhan sitting on the edge of the bed, Sehun knelt in font of him and gently slipped the first shoe on, saying lowly, “I want to kill those bastards for what they’ve done to you.”

“Sehun.” Luhan reached out, his fingers brushing into Sehun’s soft hair. “I know you said you would come, but I … I just can’t believe you’re here.”

Shoes on, Sehun stood up quickly, one big hand against Luhan’s stomach and the other at the curve of Luhan’s jaw. “We’re family, Luhan.” That looked to be answer enough.

As Luhan was trying to steady himself, still a little off from his dangerously low blood sugar level, Sehun retrieved his chirping phone and placed it to his ear. He cracked Luhan’s door open and peered out into the hall. Then the call ended and Sehun reached back for Luhan.

With Luhan’s hand tucked safely in Sehun’s, he almost felt invincible.

“We need to move now,” Sehun said, and he jerked Luhan so quickly that it was startling.

“Where are we going?” Luhan asked, his legs feeling like they were blurring from moving so fast.

“Airport,” Sehun said quickly. “There’s a flight to Korea that leaves in just under an hour. We can get on it if we hurry. If we miss it we’ll go directly to the Korean embassy and wait there until the next flight tomorrow.”

“The embassy?” Luhan echoed, having to slow significantly as they reached a back stairwell.

Sehun continued, “Yeah, it’s here in Beijing. We can hide out there if we have to.”

“But I’m not a Korean citizen,” Luhan said.

“No,” Sehun said, his fingers tightening on Luhan’s hand. “But our baby is. Me being Korean means that our baby has Korean citizenship. And because you’re carrying our baby right now, that extends to you regardless of whether you have a visa or passport on you. At least that’s what Lay told me his parents had worked out the last time I talked to him. It’s not the first time someone’s tried to use a pregnancy to gain access to Korea without proper documentation, and it wasn’t easy to get you a pass on all that red tape, but Luhan there shouldn’t be any problem getting into Korea right now, not as long as I’m with you.”

And Sehun wasn’t going anywhere. That part Luhan heard loud and clear.

One flight of stairs bellow them a door crashed open and Luhan froze in terror. There was no way he could outrun Wei if they’d been caught, and who knew who would win in a fight between Sehun and Wei. Wei was bigger, but Sehun was more determined. Still, they were pretty evenly matched.

“It’s okay,” Sehun said kindly. “That’s my accomplice.”

The person in question was a tall, attractive woman who told them sharply, “I have a car waiting in the parking lot. We have to go quickly.”

Then it was a rush even more frantic than before as they tore through the hospital reception area, through the double sliding doors in the front, and to the nondescript Honda parked not too far away.

Breathing hard in the backseat thirty seconds later, Luhan gave a frightful look back to the hospital as they pulled away.

“When he discovers I’m gone,” Luhan eased out, “he’s going to …”

“Nothing,” Sehun said from beside him, and then jerked an arm around Luhan’s shoulders for good measure. “He’s going to do nothing, and we’re going home.”

Home. Home to Korea.

Luhan pressed his face into Sehun’s shoulder and tried to calm his heartbeat.

“Luhan?” Sehun asked, fingers drifting through the short hair at his nape. “It’s okay. I swear it’s okay now. We’re going to be okay.”

Of course he was crying. That was perfect. Luhan had never felt his emotions so out of control before, not even comparable to his four and fifth months where the tiniest things had made him cry. He’d cried over a spilled box of cereal once.

“I’m just …” Luhan said, “I’m just so thankful to have you.”

Sehun’s forehead pressed against his and Luhan could see those expressive hazel colored eyes once more. “Didn’t I tell you we’re family? Family is there for each other at the worst of times, not just the best.”

His nose stuffing up immaturely, Luhan drew back and palmed at it. “I thought I was going to be stuck in that house forever, because I was never going to agree to be my parent’s little puppet. I thought I’d never see you or my friends again, and that when I had the baby that they’d take her from me.”

Sehun’s hand went quickly to Luhan’s stomach, the baby kicking in response. “No one is going to take our girl from us.”

Inhaling deeply, Luhan admitted, “Even if I lost her, I told myself, I knew that she’d be okay, because you were going to have her. I knew you’d protect her and take care of her. That was the only thought that got me through some of that time.”

“You’re not making it any less difficult to not want to turn this car around and go confront your parents. Or that asshole I saw grab you at the market.”

Eyebrows high, Luhan asked, “You saw that?”

For the first time from the front seat, the woman spoke up. In clipped but fairly fluent Korean, she said, “We located you almost initially. We were forced to watch the house, however, waiting for you to leave before we could act.”

Luhan admitted, “I wasn’t sure if you understood my message.”

Sehun surprised him by saying, “Xiumin and I knew something was wrong before then. He would have been here with me if his passport renewal had come through fast enough.”

“You and Xiumin worked together on something?” Luhan asked flatly. Then he cracked a smile. “Stop telling me lies to make me feel better.”

Sehun chucked. “No, really, since you’ve been gone Xiumin and I decided to be best friends.”

“I can live with that,” Luhan said, tipping his head back onto Sehun’s shoulder. “As long as I’m family.”

“Always,” Sehun swore, and then they fell to silence.

At the airport Luhan finally learned the woman’s name, Yiru, as she handed Sehun the important paperwork that would allow Luhan to leave the country. Then she gave a brief parting and slipped back into the car.

“We can still make our flight,” Sehun said, taking Luhan’s hand once more and guiding him towards the nearest kiosk.

The worst thing about being pregnant, by far in Luhan’s opinion, were the near constant bathroom breaks. The baby, especially now that she was so big, was sitting essentially on his bladder. That meant the need to relieve himself every forty-five minutes at less, sometimes more frequently.

“Bathroom,” Luhan said, pulling at Sehun’s sleeve. “I have to use the bathroom.”

Sehun paused from where he’d laid Luhan’s new paperwork out on the kiosk’s countertop and turned to him. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Luhan shook his head. “You get our tickets. I’m going to that one right there.” He pointed to the nearest bathroom and then took off towards it.

With a sharp but nervous nod, Sehun said, “When you get back I’ll have our tickets. The plane leaves in twenty minutes.”

Luhan moved as fast as he could, relieving himself quickly and then washing his hands. A fast look in the mirror showed a man who hadn’t been getting enough sleep, but one that smiling still came easy to.

He was going ot have to tell him, he realized. He was going to have to tell Sehun when they got back to Korea that Luhan had feelings for him. It could potentially wreck everything he had, but Sehun coming for him now had only cemented what Luhan had been feeling. And they weren’t feelings that he could keep hidden very well or for very much longer. They had to come out, no matter the consequences.

“I thought I told you what a stupid thing it would be for you to run.”

Luhan spun so fast he nearly lost his balance. “Wei!”

It was his worst nightmare in the doorway. The bathroom wasn’t empty, there were plenty of people milling around them, but to Luhan it seemed like there were only two people left in the world now.

“How did you find me?” Luhan asked quietly. Not wanting to make a scene just yet.

“There’s a tracker in your shoe,” Wei said casually. “Just in case you decided to be epic in your stupidity. But I’m not sure why you would come here. You know you can’t leave the country. No one is going to put you on a flight out of pity.”

“You’re an idiot,” Luhan replied. “If you think I got here on my own, or that I don’t have a way to get on a flight, you’re a bigger idiot than I already thought you were. And you’re a supremely huge idiot if you don’t realize that the person I love is here at the airport, and he’s probably thirty seconds away from realizing something is wrong and barging in here.”

Next to Luhan a man was washing his hands, but paying their conversation not a care in the world. It was beyond disheartening how little people realized the things happening around them.

Wei asked, “You think you have everything figured out?”

“No,” Luhan shook his head. “I think I have people who care for me, and who’ll risk everything for me. I think I have a future with a daughter and a man worth fighting for. I think I won’t hesitated for a second, if you try to touch me, to call for either Sehun or the police. And you know I’m kind of hoping I get the police, because then we can go to the Korean embassy afterward. And considering the way Sehun explained it, I’m a temporary Korean citizen while carrying this baby. Try me, Wei, I’m not going back to that house, I’m not going back to my parents, and I’m not going back with you.”

Wei took a daring step forward and asked, “Do you care about what will happen to our families without this marriage? Do you understand that my family is about to lose its board seats, and your family’s public confidence had been wavering for years? We need his merger and we need it validated by marriage.”

“For what?” Luhan demanded. “For more money? For more power? What happened to you? Did your family twist you that much over the years I’ve been gone? My god, where did the person I called a friend once go? Where’s the person who kept my secrets and smuggled me paints, and told me he wanted to study literature and write novels? Is he dead and gone? It feels that way, and for that I’m sad, because he was my best friend for so many years, and the only person I trusted.”

Wei looked shocked and Luhan only felt pity for him.

“I’m going now,” Luhan said firmly. “I’m going to be with the man I love, in the place I call home. We’re going to raise our daughter together and I’m going to paint. If there’s even a shred of the person who used to be my best friend, you won’t try to stop me. If any of my best friend is left in you, you’ll be happy for me finding out who I am, and then maybe you’ll try to find out who you are. I assure you, you’re not what I see now. You’re not your father.”

Boldly Luhan stepped around him, and he half expected Wei to pounce on him. But when he dared to look back he could only see Wei with hunched shoulders and a bowed head. He couldn’t see his old friend or the new person he’d become. Luhan couldn’t see anything, a moment after that.

“Ready?” Sehun asked when Luhan was back at his side. “I’ve got our tickets.”

Luhan let his fingers slide against Sehun’s and he gave a small nod. “I’m ready to go home.”

Miraculously enough, an hour later found Luhan on a plane headed back to Korea, a dozing Sehun next to him. Luhan had long since fitted himself again Sehun in one single seat, even the spacious first-class chairs barely enough room for the both of them and Luhan’s stomach. Then he leaned against Sehun, soaking in his warmth. He’d thought for so long it was something he’d never get back.

“You okay?” Sehun mumbled at him, proving he was at least still a little awake. “You want to go back to your own seat?” But contrary to his words, Luhan felt Sehun’s heavy and secure arm come around him, pulling him even closer.

“No,” Luhan said, gazing out the nearby window at the blackness of the night sky. “I’m good here.”

Sehun gave a grunt of approval and Luhan let his own eyes close. For the first time in over a week, he slept easily and peacefully.

Chapter Text

Luhan’s doctor was a saint. That was what Sehun decided when she willingly rolled out of her bed at eleven when their flight finally landed, met them at the hospital, and was still cheery and supportive as she gave Luhan a quick examination.

“What’s this I hear about you deliberately not taking your medication?” she asked as she took Luhan’s blood pressure.

“It’s a long story,” Luhan said, but Sehun thought he should have said it was a terrifying one.

“Is he okay?” Sehun cut in. “Is the baby okay? He was in the hospital just before we got on the plane. I didn’t know if it was okay for him to travel, but we had to go right away.”

She looked a little sleepy as she squeezed the pump on the blood pressure cuff, hair a little out of order from its nearly always severe bun she wore it in. Instead now her hair was falling down all over the place, not making her look any less professional, but maybe making her seem a little more human. And familiar. She still looked so damn familiar.

She said, “His blood pressure looks okay, and the first thing I checked was his blood sugar. I think we dodged a bullet here, but Luhan, no more wild trips between China and Korea, okay?”

Luhan gave a soft nod. “Trust me. I’m never going back to China again.”

Sehun thought that to anyone else, that might have sounded severe. But to him, it sounded like music to his ears.

He’d come so close to losing Luhan. And any number of things could have gone drastically wrong. The fact that he’d been able to bring Luhan home, and keep him safe, was something that made Sehun feel like he was worthy of how Luhan made him feel inside.

“You look tired,” she commented, and it took Sehun a moment to realize she wasn’t speaking to Luhan.

“I am,” he admitted. But also so very thankful.

She gave a friendly pat to Luhan’s shoulder. “Go home and get some rest, the both of you. I’ll see you in about a week for a proper examination. We still have that 3D ultrasound to look forward to.”

Sehun helped Luhan sit up and tried not to think about how close he had come to never having Luhan in his life again. He never would have been able to explain to their daughter what kind of person Luhan was. An explanation would never have done him justice.

They had to make a stop at the pharmacy to refill Luhan’s medication, but the line was thankfully short for the time of night, and it was only for a minute or two that Sehun found the two of them separated.

Then they were heading out towards the taxi idling at the dropoff zone at the front of the hospital.

“Can I go home with you?” Luhan asked, completely catching Sehun off guard. The most adorable flush was setting in across his features as he continued, “I just mean … I don’t want to be alone right now … and I don’t want to wake Xiumin up. I just …”

In the taxi, Sehun gave his home address and told Luhan quietly, “My home is your home for as long as you want it to be.”

The car ride felt all too long, even though they’d recently taken a flight. But the moment Sehun led Luhan into his house, he felt immediately better. Some of the tension in his body loosened and he could breathe easy again.

“I’ll make up a bed for you,” Sehun said, then pointed down the hall. “The bathroom is the second door on the right. If you want to wash up for the night, I’ll see what I can do about finding something clean for you to wear. I think I have a couple of outfits here that Suho bought for you and I’ve kept forgetting to hand over to you.”

“Okay,” Luhan said, looking more and more tired with each passing moment. “I’ll go wash up.”

Sehun bound up the stairs quickly, pausing only for a second in front of the nursery, then continued on. He decided that Luhan would likely be the most comfortable in the room that was first on the right down the hall. It faced to the west, which meant no harsh, first morning light, and Sehun very much thought that Luhan was going to sleep for a long while.

As quick as he could he changed the sheets on the full bed and remade it, and then set off to locate the promised clothes.

“Here,” Sehun said, holding out the clothing when Luhan reappeared from the bathroom. The fringe of his hair was wet from his face washing, but he looked infinitely better. “These should fit. I’ll show you where you’re going to sleep.”

“You’ll be just down the hall?” Luhan asked after Sehun had shown him the room and gotten nearly to the door. “In case I need you for something?”

“Ah …” Sehun wasn’t sure what to say. It was obvious that Luhan’s natural guess had been that he slept in the master bedroom down at the end of the hall, but six months after their romp through those sheets, Sehun had never once been able to spent the night in the room again. “No. I’m going to head downstairs. I have to check in with a couple of people, let them know that I’m back in the country and that you’re all right.”

Luhan frowned. “You’re tried. You should go to bed immediately.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sehun said, smiling at Luhan. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to write a few e-mails and then go right to bed. If you need me, check downstairs.”

Sehun was pulling to door closed behind him as he heard Luhan whisper, “Thank you, Sehun.”

If Sehun hadn’t been a lost cause before, he most certainly was one now.

“Goodnight, Luhan.”

Sehun closed the door behind him and then leaned back against it with a sigh. He was exhausted, utterly exhausted. And overwhelmed.

Ambling his way downstairs, Sehun dialed Suho’s number on his phone and sat heavily on the sofa when the call went through, saying, “I’m sorry to call you so late … or early at this point. But Luhan and I are back.”

Suho didn’t seem like he’d been sleeping from how fast he responded, “And are you two okay? Xiumin said he hadn’t heard from you in days, and you stubbornly decided to keep as little contact as possible with everyone else.”

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Sehun said, “I just wanted to focus on what I was doing, and not worry about all the people who were counting on me to bring Luhan home.” Sehun’s eyes flickered up to the ceiling where just one floor above, Luhan was probably already asleep. “And I knew if I gave you any indication of how bad things were for Luhan over there, you’d be on the first flight out to Beijing.”

Suho asked sharply, “How bad were things for him?”

Setting in more comfortably to the sofa, Sehun said, “His parents were trying to force him to get married to some guy. I don’t know why. I just know that they were basically holding Luhan and the baby hostage until he agreed to it. He was cooped up in a house for a week, a virtual prisoner. Luhan had to … he had to force going hypoglycemic to get out and give me a shot at getting to him.”

“Christ,” Suho hissed, “but you said he’s okay?”

Sehun assured, “The first stop we made was to the doctor. We got him and the baby all checked out. They’re both fine, if not completely shaken. Suho, Luhan thought he was going to bury a parent. It ended up his parents tried to bury him.”

“Do you want me to come over there?”

“Nah,” Sehun said, eyes feeling heavy. “Luhan’s asleep already. He’s staying with me.”

Surprised, Suho echoed, “He’s staying with you?”

“Maybe he needs to,” Sehun offered, “or maybe he just wants to. I think it’s about security and comfort, because he looked pretty freaked out earlier. And who would blame him? So he’ll stay with me tonight, and tomorrow if he needs it. He can stay however long he needs. I just can’t believe we actually got him out of China. We actually did it.”

Suho chuckled. “You’re a regular Liam Neeson.”

“Hardy-har.”

After a moment’s pause on the phone, Suho said, “I’m coming over in the morning. The three of us are going to hang out and be normal.”

“You’re hardly normal,” Sehun tease.

“I’m coming over,” Suho said once more, and sounded like he was gritting his teeth, “in the morning so that you and I can give Luhan a feeling of normalcy and safety. And also because I’m going to smack you over the back of the head for charging off foolishly into a country you’re not familiar with, where you don’t speak the language, all so you could bring home someone who’s in trouble.”

Steeling himself, Sehun corrected, “Someone I’m in love with.”

“I know you have feelings for him now,” Suho said. “You guys are having a baby together, and feelings are natural, abut you can’t act so rashly at your age, and be so irresponsible to the job you and the--”

“No,” Sehun said quickly. “I … Suho, I’m in love with him. I’m in love with Luhan.”

It was quite possibly the worst time for a confession, especially to the brother of the man that Sehun had married and planned to have children with. But the feelings were eating him up inside, and the brush with almost losing Luhan to China forever was making him feel as if he couldn’t keep anything bottled up inside anymore. He had to be honest with himself and the people around him.

“Are you sure it’s not just deep affection?”

“It was a month ago,” Sehun eased out, trying to keep his voice low. The house had high ceilings, and sounds echoed in it. When he got the courage up to tell Luhan that he was in love with him, he wanted it to be proper. He didn’t want it coming from Luhan overhearing a late night/early morning conversation. “It’s love now. I know what being in love with someone feels like.”

“Like you’d hop on a plane and fly to Beijing without hesitation?”

“Like I’d lay down on a wire for Luhan just so he could be happy.”

Suho sighed heavily.

“Tell me you don’t … hate me.”

“Hate you?” Suho returned. “Because of Jae?”

Sehun squeezed his eyes shut. “It only took six months for me to fall in love with someone else. Not even a full year. What kind of a person does that make me?”

“A lucky one,” Suho said firmly, and Sehun could detect nothing but certainty from his voice. “Some people only get one shot at love, Sehun. The real kind, I mean. Some people don’t even get that. But you, you’re not someone who loves easily. You’ve never been the type to give your heart away so easily. So for you to have found real love twice? It doesn’t matter how short the time span has been. You’re lucky, Sehun, and you’re also crazy if you don’t think this is exactly what Jae would have wanted for you.”

“I don’t even know if Luhan feels the same way. Maybe he just sees me as a parenting partner.”

“Please,” Suho scoffed. “You’re the only person who hasn’t been able to see the way he looks at you--the way he’s looked at you for a while. You don’t have to worry about him returning your feelings.”

Just once more Sehun looked to the ceiling. Luhan … felt the same way?

“--be there in the morning. I promise,” Suho was saying when Sehun zoned back in. “Get some sleep. You deserve it.”

The only thing Sehun wanted to do was curl up on the sofa and pass out, but he had to write out a few e-mails, one to his boss and the other to Chanyeol, both of them work related. At his desk in his office, he put his head down for just a second.

He loved Luhan.

Until now he’d always known what the building feeling was, he’d just never been able to articulate it. But now it was real. It was out there. And it had all the potential to do more damage to Luhan than his parents had.

It was several long hours later when Sehun was jerking upright. He wiped at the wetness to his mouth and his eyes darted around the room.

He’d fallen asleep in his office. He’d never even made it to the sofa.

Sehun relaxed back in his chair the second he realized what had happened. Sun was filtering through the slanted blinds across the room and the clock on the wall said it was almost half past eight. He’d only slept for a few hours, but Sehun didn’t feel in the least bit like he had any more sleep in him. There was too much on his mind.

Rising from his seat, Sehun padded out into the main area of the house and stopped, listening keenly. Everything was silent. There wasn’t even a hint of movement from upstairs, which meant Luhan was still blissfully sleeping.

Breakfast. Luhan probably hadn’t eaten in quite a while, and his blood sugar had to be carefully monitored. Even if it meant Luhan was only going to go back to sleep a few hours later, he had to have something to eat, and soon.

The only problem was … apparently he didn’t have much food in his house, and what he did have was mostly spoiled. It had been getting old before he’d left for China, and it was headed straight for the trash now.

Sehun climbed the stairs to the second level of the house as quietly as he could, then cracked Luhan’s door open just a fraction of an inch.

It was explosive and uncontrollably, the smile that blossomed on his face when he spied Luhan. The sight left him one step away from laughing. Luhan was stretched out on his side on the huge bed, most of his blankets kicked to the ground, clutching his pillow like a lifeline as he breathed deeply and evenly.

He looked so damn beautiful Sehun had to close the door and turn away.

Focus, he told himself. Focus on the task at hand.

After writing a quick note to Luhan, just incase he woke before Sehun got back, and putting it on the kitchen countertop, Sehun grabbed his keys and headed to nearest grocery store.

He shopped as fast he could, feeling an odd sense of agitation at his separation from Luhan. The urge to get back and make sure he was okay was almost suffocating.

There was, however, very little traffic to actually deal with, and Sehun found himself home before long. The house was still silent as he entered, but for the first time he realized now it didn’t feel lonely. So many months of the house feeling lonely was suddenly replaced by calmness, and all because Sehun knew Luhan was somewhere inside.

Oh, he had it bad.

Dropping off his groceries in the kitchen, Sehun quickly set the rice cooker and then headed off to check on Luhan.

His stomach dropped out of him when he reached the top level of the house and realized he could see the nursery door from where he was standing. He could see it open and the shadow of someone inside.

“Luhan,” he said, moving quickly towards the door.

And there was Luhan, when he was close enough to see inside it, standing in the middle of the destruction, eyes wide and maybe a little afraid.

“Sehun,” Luhan returned. He was still a little too pale for Sehun’s tastes, looking tried and in need of additional sleep.

Sehun took a deep, even breath. “You shouldn’t be in here. The door was closed for a reason.”

“What is this?” Luhan asked, turning a bit. “Why is the room like this?”

“Please leave,” Sehun tried again, because there was anger building in his chest and already warning of an oncoming explosion. This was the one place Luhan couldn’t be, more sacred than the bedroom Sehun had shared with Jae. “Please.”

Luhan’s eyes traced the room’s destroyed contents and Sehun wanted to jerk him away, to force him out and be able to hide away all the evidence once more.

“You did this?” Luhan asked.

“You can’t be here.”

Luhan reached out to touch the edge of the nearby dresser, the contents that had once sat on top, were not scattered around the floor. “I … Sehun.”

Sehun had never been so embarrassed of something, or so protective.

“This was your daughter’s nursery. Seoyoung’s.”

“Luhan.”

There must have been something in his tone of voice. He must have sounded … like a monster. Because Luhan snapped away from him with even more fright, demanding, “Why would you do this?”

Fingers balled into fists, Sehun asked, “Do you remember when we talked in the beginning? About the one subject I would never have to explain myself to you about, and that you agreed next to ask about.”

Luhan gave a shaky nod.

“Then respect that, please.” Sehun’s mouth felt like sandpaper, like he hadn’t had a drop of water in decades. “Please.”

Luhan’s hand fell away from the dresser. “Okay.” And Sehun felt like a villain as Luhan stepped carefully over the wreckage around him, and then out into the hallway. Sehun went right after him, closing the door behind him.

“You should eat,” Sehun said, not making eye contact with him. “If you want to check your blood sugar level, I’ll go get started on breakfast. It’s after nine.”

He was all the way to the top of the stairs by the time he heard Luhan call after him, “I’m sorry for being in there, Sehun.”

“It’s okay,” Sehun said, even if it didn’t feel that way. “Come down for breakfast when you’re ready.”

The rice was almost finished by the time Luhan appeared. He was still dressed in the clothes that he’d slept in, which were rumpled and creased, but his face looked freshly washed and he offered Sehun a small, timid smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Sehun replied, and gestured for Luhan to sit at the nearby barstool. “How’s your blood sugar?”

Luhan held up a small pill and requested a glass of water, saying, “It’ll be okay in a second. What’s for breakfast? I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I can’t,” Sehun said, and smiled apologetically. “Well, I can cook a little. Enough to get us through breakfast.” He pointed to the dishes on the stove and nearby, then said, “Rice, doenjang tofu soup, banchan, and some fruit.”

“I’m impressed,” Luhan insisted.

“You should see Chanyeol,” Sehun insisted. “He’s a mild mannered web designer by day, but a master chef in training by night. You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but it’s his passion. It’s far more than a hobby for him. I’m pretty sure that at last healf of the people that Chanyeol has dated over the years have been with him for his cooking.”

“You should get him to cook for us then,” Luhan said, a smiling once more reaching his eyes, as if the incident in the nursery was all but forgotten.

Sehun turned the burner down next to him and asked gingerly, “Are you okay? Last night was … intense. And I’m still having trouble accepting that we got out of there without a hitch.”

“It wasn’t without a hitch,” Luhan said, taking another drink of water. “I didn’t want to say anything at the time, but when I went to the bathroom, Wei cornered me there.”

Sehun stilled. “He what?”

Luhan nodded. “He said my parents put a GPS tracker in my shoe, and that’s how he was able to find me.”

“But he … how did …”

Luhan reached across the countertop and was able to wrestle into his grip one of Sehun’s slack, nearby hands. “He said he was going to take me back, or try at least, which would have caused a huge incident when you and the police got involved. So instead of going down that path, and risking you ending up in a Chinese prison for attempted murder, I did the more logical thing.”

Sehun suddenly regained feeling in his body and squeezed Luhan’s hand back. “I would have tried to kill him if he touched you. Even for a second. Maybe there is no maybe.”

“I believe you,” Luhan sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“So what did you do? How did you get away?”

Showing no sign of letting go of Sehun’s hand, Luhan offered, “When I was a kid, Wei and I were very close. We both were only children in our respective families, and we both were suffering from an immense kind of pressure to be something we didn’t want to. I wanted to be an artist. Wei wanted to be an author. We bonded over that, and we kept each other’s secrets. I never loved him as anything more than a brother, but I did see him as that. He kept my secrets, Sehun, the kind that my parents would have hurt me with, and I kept his. So when he approached me in the bathroom, and wanted to take me back, I reminded him of who he used to be. He let me go.”

“He just let you go?” Sehun asked incredulously. “Just like that?”

“I guess both our families are having some issues. Financial and otherwise. His family put a lot of pressure on him to make me want to marry him, or to force me to, in order to retain the kind of power they’ve grown accustomed to. But that’s not who he is. I grew up with him. I know that’s not the kind of person he is. I just had to let him know I remembered who he used to be, and I wanted that friend back.”

The rice cooker beeped and Sehun remarked, “You’re kind of amazing, you know.”

“I was kind of desperate,” Luhan clarified. “And lucky. I guess he wants to be that person again, because he did let me go. He didn’t try to stop me.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” Sehun said, wincing a bit. “You ended up being betrayed by your family. You didn’t deserve that. No one does.”

Softly, Luhan said, “It’s okay. Really, it is. Now I know those people aren’t my family. My family is here with my friends, and with you.”

There was pleasure coiling in Sehun’s stomach as he gave Luhan’s hand a final squeeze. “We’ll always be family. You know that, right? Me and you?”

“I know,” Luhan replied. “And I’m more thankful than you’ll ever know.”

Sehun had to tear himself away from Luhan then, fumbling with the melon he’d picked up earlier at the store. He sliced it expertly and then pushed a plate of it towards Luhan. “So what do you plan on doing with those people you used to call parents? No more chances?”

“Not a single one,” Luhan said. “I’ll do what I did before. I’ll block their number, trash any mail I get from them, and pretend as though they never existed. You know, I had been starting to free regret. I realized I was about to have a baby, and I was taking her away from them. I was making it so they’d never know their granddaughter. No matter what kind of a relationship I had with my parents, there was a chance it could be different for her. I wanted to see if that was the case. At least I wanted to before this.”

“Well,” Sehun said, portioning out rice. “Our daughter still has one set of grandparents.”

“Your parents,” Luhan said, as if he’d only just remembered. “Sehun, I don’t know anything about your parents.”

“I’m going to take you to meet them,” Sehun decided. “They know about you, of course, but I asked them to give us some space while we worked things out. But I think we’re past that, and you deserve to know who they are, because they’re a part of my life and they’ll be a part of our daughter’s.”

After a few more minutes breakfast was done, and then Luhan was helping Sehun carry all of the dishes to the main kitchen table where they sat side by side to have the meal.

“Suho said he’s coming over later,” Sehun said, making sure Luhan had a generous portion of soup. “I think he wants to smother you with affection and friendship. If you try to run, I’ll chase you down. I’m not suffering through that alone.”

Luhan laughed sweetly. “Suho is very nice, but he doesn’t have to do that. I was actually hoping that you and I could spend the day together. Or maybe just a few hours? Do you have to go to work?”

Sehun set down his chopsticks. “I have to go back to work tomorrow.” Then Luhan’s words settled in, and he said, “I’ll tell Suho not to come over. We can make it just you and me.”

He was already rising out of his seat for the phone when Luhan put a firm hand on his arm. “Don’t do that, please. Suho has always been kind and generous to me. If he wants to spend time with us, we shouldn’t make a burden of it.”

Sehun sank slowly into his seat. “You do realize you’re more important to me than hanging out with Suho. I can do that any time. You … you’re special.”

He was absolutely horrified that the words had come out of his mouth so suddenly, and he couldn’t gauge Luhan’s reaction properly as the other man glanced away, the skin at his neck blushing red.

“I mean …”

“When I was with my parents, trapped in that house,” Luhan said, turning back to Sehun with a kind look in his eyes, “all I could think about was that I’d never get to see you again. I was so scared for my baby, too, but being separated from you made me realize how important you are to me. You’re special to me, too, Sehun.”

Here it was, Sehun decided. This had to be it. This was the moment he spilled his guts to Luhan.

“My husband died six months ago,” Sehun said, his voice cracking like a teenage boy’s. “If I had imagined six months ago that I’d be happy again, and … and in love, I would have checked myself in for psychiatric help.”

He could hear Luhan draw in a sharp breath. “In love.”

“I don’t know when it happened,” Sehun said, gripping the edge of the table. “But I know why.”

“Why?” Luhan breathed out.

This part was easy, and the words flew from Sehun. “Because you’re an amazing person. You’re kind and considerate and generous. You’re selfless in a way that most people aren’t. But you’re so damn strong, too. Life throws trash at you and you brush it off. You’re brave and you’re confident and you’re independent. Anyone else, if they had to deal with what you have, would go screaming into the night. But you keep going, and you only get stronger. And you’re a goddamn saint to put up with my bullshit.”

“Hey.” Luhan pinched Sehun sharply. “You’ve had your moments, but so have I. You’re so quick to point out what you like about me, but you forget, I’m stubborn and set in my ways and compromise can be hard for me. I worry constantly, and you have no idea how angry I get all the time over things. I am not perfect and I have a lot of flaws.”

“You’re perfect to me,” Sehun said.

“You’re in love with me?” Luhan edged out.

Sehun gave a slight nod. “I know this is the last thing you want to deal with now, and I swear to you, I wish I had better timing or wasn’t such an emotional wreck right now. I know this might change things between us, and I may have gone and screwed everything up. But I didn’t think I’d be able to love again, I didn’t think I’d want to, and now I’m feeling all this for you and it’s … incredible. I don’t wish I didn’t feel this way, because I haven’t felt his alive in six months. But I do wish--”

Sehun’s brain seemed to shut down at the moment.

One second he’d known what he was saying, the jumbled up thoughts in his mind finally manifesting themselves, and in the next he was blank.

He was an empty shell because Luhan’s hands were framing his face and their lips were meeting.

They were kissing.

Sehun was … seconds away from a heart attack.

At least until he simply gave in. This was Luhan. Luhan might have started out as a cheap thrill, a way to work through the anger and anguish and the hurt associated with losing his family, but now Luhan was family. And Luhan was considerate and thoughtful and not rash. There was no way Luhan gave pity kisses, not even to someone like Sehun who could be pitiful. So if Luhan wasn’t kissing him for any other reason than something legitimate, it meant …

“Sehun,” Luhan said with a grin, “stop thinking so much. Just feel for once.”

Sehun could feel everything. He could feel his body tingling with excitement and surprise, and his heart pounding against his ribcage for escape. Luhan’s lips were soft but firm as they pressed against Sehun’s, and the pressure that they were exerting, as Luhan deepened their kiss, pulling Sehun closer, reeked of masculinity.

Luhan kissed him in an easy way, with growing ferocity, but no urge to speed up the process, and Sehun could only appreciate his method. They didn’t know their way around each other, not in this way, and didn’t have a clue what the other preferred, but even as Luhan took the initiative, he was giving Sehun as much control as he needed.

It wasn’t control that Sehun wanted, and he pushed the idea to the side completely as he reached back for Luhan, letting his mouth open in response and delivering quite possibly the best first kiss ever.

“I love you too.”

“You … do?” Sehun pulled back, unable to hide his surprise.

“Probably longer than you’ve had feelings for me,” Luhan admitted, his lips all kind of red and his skin flushed. “I was scared of them, because I didn’t think you’d ever be able to, or want to, return them.”

Head tilting, Sehun brushed his lips over Luhan’s once more. “I want to hate myself for being able to love you six months after the person I dedicated my heart to died. I want to be ashamed of moving on so quickly. But I can’t do any of that. What I feel for you is too strong for me to be ashamed or disappointed or to think of anything but how I feel when I’m with you and touch you and now when I kiss you.”

Luhan craned towards Sehun, his fingers trailing intimately over the stubble Sehun wore on his face. “I don’t want to mess this up. I am falling in love with you, Sehun, but I don’t want to wreck our friendship. I don’t want to ruin things for our baby. I’m scared of doing that, and of wanting to be selfish just this once.”

“We are not going to ruin things for our baby,” Sehun vowed, leaning into Luhan’s touch.

“You don’t know that,” Luhan said, but as he spoke, he was kissing the corner of Sehun’s mouth. “How can we forgive ourselves if we try this and then can’t make it work? How will we be able to function together as parents if we can’t get along?”

Reaching out, Sehun drew Luhan against him, enfolding his arms around him and making sure he could feel their baby between them. “Of course I don’t know about the future. I don’t know where we’ll be in another six months, or what the future has in store for us. I only know that my feelings for you are only growing and getting more intense. You are everything I need and want, and I also know you’re the kind of person who will prioritize our baby, regardless of what happens between us.”

Lowly, Luhan asked, “What will your friends think?”

“I don’t care what they think.”

The real ones, the friends that were worth keeping, would be the ones who’d been there for him when he’d lost Jae, but also were willing to support him with Luhan. They’d accept Luhan because Sehun loved him, regardless of the consequences. Maybe that would mean only Chen would be left when this came out. Or no one at all. Or even more hopeful, everyone would be there … even Baekhyun.

No matter what, Sehun wasn’t giving up Luhan and their baby, orthe family that they were now. He wasn’t risking them in any way, not when they were everything to him.

“I didn’t dare hope that we could be this,” Luhan said, his words rumbling to Sehun’s heart. “I was content to just think of you as a friend, one who I cared for very much. But to have you as more? To love you, and be loved in return?”

Sehun palmed a hand to the back of Luhan’s head. “You want to take a chance with me? I’m kind of broken, still trying to get to the place I was before, and I’ve got about half as many redeeming qualities as you do. But if you take a chance on me, I’ll never betray you, I’ll never forsake you, and I won’t walk away from you.”

Luhan replied, “You want to take a chance on me? I’m an artist without a steady income, my parents are probably going to be a threat until I die, when I’m not pregnant I drink enough caffeine to put down an elephant, I’m impulsive and sometimes overly spontaneous, and if you want to be with me, your life will never be quiet again. You want a piece of that?”

“A million times yes,” Sehun breathed out, and it was more than a little scary how impulsive his response had been. Without hesitation he’d answered, and didn’t regret it for a second.

Luhan leaned up, their eyes meeting in a way that Sehun knew he was searching for the truth.

“We’re really going to do this?” Luhan asked.

Sehun leaned down to kiss him. “I’m in love with you. We’re really going to do this.”

When Luhan kissed him back, Sehun knew true happiness for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Chapter Text

His staying with Sehun had always meant to be temporary. Rather, it hadn’t meant to be happening at all, but Sehun who thought he was so bad at reading people, had instinctively known that they’d needed each other for that first night. Luhan had been too shaken from their harrowing escape, and he was certain that Sehun was too afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

That had been the confession from Sehun, and the moment in Luhan’s life when he imagined he’d tell his grandkids if they ever inquired how he and Sehun had finally gotten together.

Luhan was in love. He’d known he was in love with Sehun for a while now, but to hear it back, and to reach a mutual understanding between them was euphoric. Luhan wanted to pretend he was fourteen all over again and make out with Sehun every moment of the day, ignore the world around him and just be with the one he loved.

That first day Luhan hadn’t so much as left Sehun’s side, not even when Suho had appeared, food and warm greetings in hand, and then certainly not into the night when Sehun had stood shoulder to shoulder with him and helped prepare dinner.

Sehun had laughed as they carefully cut the tofu, saying, “Suho totally knows we’re together. I could tell.”

“Knows? About us?”

“Of course.”

Luhan wasn’t so sure. He and Sehun seemed to have reached a silent understanding in Suho’s presence that whatever they had was so new and delicate that airing it like indecent laundry wasn’t their top priority. They certainly hadn’t gone out of their way to avoid contact with each other, or act like strangers, but they hadn’t kissed in front of Suho, or done anything to out their relationship.

“He didn’t say anything,” Luhan commented. “I think as your brother-in-law, he would have said something.”

Sehun had only smiled then, in an almost smug, secretive kind of way, and said simply, “Suho’s always been leagues ahead of us, Luhan. I kind of spilled the beans about loving you earlier, but I suspect he already knew that much. Anyway, I could tell, he knows I finally told you. He just wasn’t trying to be overt about it.”

So did that mean Suho was accepting of their relationship moving from a friends only zone to something more? Luhan hoped so. In the beginning, when Sehun had been incapable of stepping up, it had been Suho to commandeer the responsibility. The more Luhan thought about it, the more important Suho was to him. Suho was a great ally and friend.

After dinner, Luhan had said a bit morosely, “I guess I’ll need you to drive me back to my apartment.”

Throughout dinner Sehun had held his hand, maybe more for reassurance than anything else, and at Luhan’s suggestion he’d reached for it again. “I guess so.”

Then had come the awkward moment when they’d sat out in front of Luhan’s apartment. Luhan was determined to get his legs working eventually, his hand already resting on the door handle. But it had been so difficult to find the motivation to leave Sehun. Sehun was new and exciting and the feelings they were sharing were exciting. Even being parted for a few hours seemed too much, which in hindsight was a bit ridiculous, but not untruthful.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Luhan had asked. It was the last thing he could say before he was forced to climb out of the car and crawl into his own, lonely bed.

Of course it wasn’t as if he and Sehun had shared a bed the night before. Luhan had slept in the guest room and Sehun had … Luhan was certain he’d slept on the sofa in the living room. But the point was they’d been in close proximity to each other, and Luhan had felt safe.

It was a hard thing to admit now that he didn’t feel completely safe. He’d been suckered all too easily by his parents, held captive in a house where everyone had known what was happening and no one had dared to help, and had needed to flee his motherland to escape what was essentially attempted coercion.

“Do your parents have passports?” Sehun had asked abruptly, catching Luhan off guard.

“Of course,” he’d returned, and then only understood what Sehun was implying a second later. “Sehun, it’s okay. They’d never try something so obvious. And I have a taser. Lay got it for me for my birthday last year. I’ll be fine.”

“Just … go pack a bag.”

Luhan had asked, “You want me to pack a bag.”

Hand out, Sehun had justified, “Just until … just until we’re sure that your parents aren’t going to be poking around, or sending anyone else to poke around. You should stay with me for a few days. If you want to.”

If he wanted to?

Luhan hadn’t hesitated to say, “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

So one night had turned to five and counting.

Sehun had gone back to work, spending his days at his office and his nights with Luhan, cooking, watching movies, making out like teenagers and working more on their ever evolving boundaries. In return Luhan had split his time between his friends, who were utterly babying him upon learning the details of his time in China, and Kai’s gym which Luhan had finally committed to.

Luhan, who was utterly independent and slowly weaning himself off the fear he’d felt from narrowly escaping from China, had already committed himself to one more night, just until the weekend, and then talked himself into bravely heading back to his own apartment.

That was when Sehun had dropped the bombshell on him, winding his arms around Luhan almost effortlessly, like he’d been doing it for years, and mumbled into his ear, “My mom is having a family get together this weekend. She politely asked me to invite you to attend, which means if I show up without you, she may refuse to feed me.”

Patting Sehun on the arm, Luhan laughed, “That would be utterly tragic, yes?”

Sehun told him with fake seriousness, “It would die. My mom is the best cook in all of Korea. So take pity on me?”

Distracted by Sehun’s devastatingly handsome smile, Luhan had easily agreed.

And now he was panicking.

“Sehun!” he shouted, peeking his head out from the bathroom on the first floor that he’d completely taken over that morning. Scattered across the countertop were all of his essentials, from his shaving kit to his toiletries. “Sehun!”

From further down in the house Sehun shouted back, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” There was the sudden thudding of feet and then Sehun was coming around the corner, his hair wet from his recent shower and his chest bare. Luhan had clearly caught him in the middle of changing.

Hoisting up an empty bottle of hairspray, Luhan demanded, “Do you have any hairspray.”

Sehun gave him a blank stare.

“Hairspray.” Luhan shook the can at him. He couldn’t do his hair properly if he couldn’t style it. Most of the time he was more than happy to run a quick brush through his hair and let nature take its course. But this was different. Luhan was going to meet Sehun’s mother and other family members. He had to look his best. He had to look perfect.

“You …” Sehun eased out. “You yelled. I thought …”

“Hairspray?”

Sehun seemed to deflate a little. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Luhan glanced down at his stomach. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Offering Luhan a tiny smile, Sehun said, “You’re in your third trimester now. How about we avoid panicked shouts that might make me think anything terrible.”

“This is terrible,” Luhan insisted. “I need more hairspray.”

“Why,” Sehun asked, taking the empty can from him and tossing it into the nearby garbage can. “Your hair looks fine to me.”

Luhan risked a glance into the bathroom mirror. “Are you kidding me?”

“I mean you look gorgeous,” Sehun corrected, and Luhan was caught completely off guard as Sehun pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. “You’re freaking out. Stop freaking out.”

“Of course I’m freaking out,” Luhan said, peering at Sehun like he was crazy. “I’m meeting your mother for the first time. I want to look my best. I don’t want her to think I’m just this slacker who’s with her son because of circumstance.” He poked his stomach for emphasis.

“She won’t think that,” Sehun promised, and this time it was his mouth descending on Luhan’s lips. “She’s excited to meet you. She’s been bugging me forever to bring you around. She’s … probably going to hug you like the family you are, and try to force feed you a pound of food, and hover around you like a helicopter. Because you’re important to her. You’re giving her a grandchild, and you gave me back my heart. So believe me when I say you could roll up to the party looking like a hobo and she’d fiercely guard and protect you from anyone even mentioning it.”

It was hard trying to imagine what Sehun’s mother was like. And it was harder picturing a family of sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles who were all welcoming and loving and were more than happy to accept Luhan simply because he made Sehun happy.

But it was nice thing to try and picture, at least before getting the real deal.

Settling into the idea that he’d be going hairspray free, Luhan leaned towards the mirror in the bathroom and asked, “What’s your father going to be like?”

There was something raw in Sehun’s voice as he replied, “He won’t be there. My parents are separated. Divorced.”

With a wince, Luhan asked, “Do you have a good relationship with him?”

Sehun shrugged. “We love each other. We see each other once in a while. And it isn’t like he ever neglected me as a kid. My parents got divorced when I was twelve, but he still made time for me. I didn’t feel like he divorced me along with my mom. But he’s not like her, either. My mom is really welcoming and open. She’ll treat you like another son, Luhan, until you give her a reason not to. With my dad … he’s the kind of person that makes you earn his trust, and he’s not always easy to get along with.”

“Still better than mine,” Luhan offered, reaching out to run his fingers across Sehun’s toned chest. “And you’ll be the best of them all.”

“I hope so,” Sehun said, his gazed locked to Luhan’s midsection. “I want to be the best father ever for her, but I’ll settle for not permanently screwing her up.”

“I’ve got confidence in you,” Luhan said, and he was seeing more and more of it every day from Sehun.

The next time they kissed it was sweeter than before, with wandering hands and the promise of something even more with time.

“I have to finish getting ready,” Sehun said, his mouth at Luhan’s neck.

“Then stop kissing me,” Luhan laughed, tilting his head further as he tried to wrestle his hands away from Sehun’s shoulders.

“You make it so hard,” Sehun said with a groan, then straightened up. “We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”

Giving Sehun a playful shove, Luhan said, “Some things are worth being late for. But okay. Let me try and do something with my hair, and you go put a shirt on before my willpower completely disappears.”

Sehun gave a flirtatious wink and disappeared to finish getting ready.

“You can do this,” he told his reflection in the mirror. “You will do this.”

Twenty minutes later they were in the car and driving out into the country side

“My mom is a retired nurse,” Sehun said, answering all of Luhan’s questions promptly and honestly. “When she married my father, she quit her job to raise us kids, but after the divorce, she went right back to it. A few years ago she had a back injury and had to retire. She gardens like crazy now.”

Luhan inquired, “How many members of your extended family will be here?”

Both hands on the wheel, Sehun guessed, “If it had just been me coming, maybe a dozen. I’ve got three sisters Luhan, but none of them are as close to my mom as I am, and they tend to avoid family gatherings.”

“But I am coming.”

A smirk pulled at Sehun’s mouth. “My mom has a fairly big home. But it’s about to feel very small.

“Great,” Luhan sighed. Because he wasn’t already nervous enough.

“Don’t worry so much,” Sehun said, one hand lifting off the wheel to reach for Luhan’s nearest. “You’ll have me there the entire time. I won’t leave your side, I won’t let my mom suffocate you too much, and you’ll have other backup too.”

“Like what?” Luhan asked skeptically. “Your daughter who is consistently kicking my bladder around giving me a legitimate excuse to dash off to the bathroom every forty-five minutes?”

“No,” Sehun said easily, “some familiar faces are going to be there. Suho is going to be there for one.”

That was certainly unexpected. Suho, from the very start, had always declared that he and Luhan and the baby were family. Luhan hadn’t doubted the sincerity of that before, but it was even more evident now.

“Your mom considers him family?”

“Forever,” Sehun confirmed, then returned both his hands to the wheel, the tall buildings of Seoul fading behind them. “Suho will always be family to my mother, regardless of what’s happened. So he’ll be there, though I think my mom mainly invites him because she’s been trying to set him up with my cousin forever. And she’s actually making progress it looks like.”

“Suho deserves someone nice,” Luhan said with a firm nod. “He deserves someone who’ll be there for him, the way he’s there for other people.”

“He needs someone patient,” Sehun decided. “Suho works a lot of hours and has a lot of people that are important to him. He needs someone who can deal with that, and it wouldn’t be as easy as it sounds.”

Luhan leaned against the window as the scenery passed. It was hard for him to believe that this was his life now. He wasn’t trapped in a loveless marriage, confined to China. He wasn’t alone in his apartment, trying to successfully single parent his daughter. Instead he was in a car with a person who loved him, driving to meet people who were now his family, and he was happy.

“And,” Sehun continued on, “if my mom happens to corner Suho with my cousin who she is convinced can be the person he needs in his life, you’ll have Chen to back you up.”

Luhan lifted an eyebrow. “Chen is family too?”

“Practically since we were still getting naps in school,” Sehun replied easily. “Of course Chen probably isn’t coming for the people; he’s coming for my mom’s cooking. That’s not the important part, though. What you should see as the silver lining is that he finally agreed to bring his girl with him. He kind of had to. My mom won’t give her blessing to the wedding until she meets her.”

Luhan wasn’t’ sure what to make of any of that. Knowing that Chen, who was a friend, was going to be there, was helpful. And him bringing his fiancée took a lot of the pressure off Luhan. But … “What about a blessing?”

In a kind way, Sehun promised, “It’s not a formal kind of blessing or anything. Chen’s parents died a while ago. It was a boating accident. Since then, my mom has been like his mom in a lot of ways, and my mom all but adopted him. Her opinion means everything to him, and he would never disrespect her or this family by not introducing his fiancée before he married her. I’m looking forward to finally meeting her.”

Laughing, Luhan pointed out, “Chen is your best friend. You’ve never met the girl he’s supposed to marry?”

“No,” Sehun said with a mock glare. “She’s been in and out of the country for a while now, studding abroad, getting some work experience in, honing her techniques. She spent a whole two years in New York a while back, specializing in her field. Chen said she’s never been one to stay in one spot for long, and neither is he, so I guess that’s why they work well. But I trust Chen’s judgment, and if he’s happy with her, then I’m happy for him.”

Giving a firm nod, Luhan said, “You’re a good friend, Sehun.”

“Well so are you,” Sehun replied. “So we’re a good fit.”

The had to stop a couple more times before they reached their destination, once for Luhan’s bladder, and then once more when he began feeling sick and stopped to take his blood sugar level, finding it lower than expected.

“It’s because of that quick breakfast,” Luhan said, accepting the sugary drink that Sehun had seemingly sprinted into the convenience store for as if he were in a marathon. For almost the past week Luhan and Sehun had made a tradition of their breakfast meal. Neither of them were overly good cooks, but they managed the meal easily enough, and it was always full and completely. This morning, however, Luhan had settled for a banana and a slice of toast. It hadn’t been enough, but he’d been distracted.

“Do you want to turn back?” Sehun asked, a guiding arm at Luhan’s elbow as things went dizzy for a moment.

“I’m fine,” Luhan insisted, then finished the drink and handed the empty bottle back to Sehun for the trash. “You know how finicky my blood sugar can be. Stop looking so frazzled.”

“Can you blame me?” Sehun asked, his hand settling almost protectively on the side of Luhan’s stomach. “You two are the most important people in my life.”

Luhan let his hand cover Sehun’s. “And we are perfectly fine. That drink will balance out my levels for right now, when we get to your mom’s house I’ll take my blood sugar again, and we’ll go from there. I’m not worried, so you shouldn’t be.” He absolutely took his condition seriously, but Sehun had such a calming effect on him it was easy for him not to panic.

“You want anything else?” Sehun asked, thumbing to the small convenience store.

“Nope.” Putting a hand on his aching back, Luhan suggested instead they make a straight shot for Sehun’s mother’s house. Once they got there he could level out his blood sugar more accurately, and maybe even take a mild painkiller for his back. As his stomach had gathered more and more weight on his thin frame, his back had certainly suffered for it. With several more months in his pregnancy to go, he wasn’t sure how much more pressure he could take on his back or hips.

Forty minutes later Luhan saw the sprawling estate that Sehun’s mother lived at for the first time. Nestled between huge, beautiful trees, and looking absolutely traditional, it was a home that seemed the picture of serenity and privacy. It certainly looked expensive, too.

“My mom got a lot in the divorce,” Sehun chuckled a bit nervously. “She wanted a place where she could hear herself think, or that’s what she claimed. My sisters and I are completely convinced that she bought a place this size to try and lure her children into living with her again, or maybe even her future grandchildren.”

Luhan pointed to his stomach. “This is her first?”

“Unfortunately for you,” Sehun said, mouth tense. “At least now.”

Luhan felt a ticker of nervousness at the promise of that conversation.

“It means she’s going to baby you so hard,” Sehun said. “She won’t say anything about … the last time she thought she was going to be a grandmother, but she’ll worry extra. I mean it when I say she’ll do her best to embody a helicopter.”

Fighting past the lump in his throat, Luhan said, “I’ll do my best to assure her that I’m taking amazing care of this baby, and that I won’t let anything happen to her.”

A smile edged its way onto Sehun’s face and Luhan was sure he’d saved the situation.

The front of the house was cluttered with cars as Sehun parked them, and Luhan was busy staring at the architecture by the time Sehun reached his side to help him out of the car.

“Brace yourself,” Sehun muttered, keeping Luhan behind him as the front door opened and an older looking but still attractive woman came rushing out.

Sehun’s mother was … probably the epitome of what Luhan considered affectionate mothers to be. She’d all but shoved Sehun to the side to get to him, taken one look at his stomach, given something that sounded suspiciously like a squeal, and then hugged him tightly.

“Welcome,” she said in his ear, enfolding him in what had to be love. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

Luhan hugged her back awkwardly at first, but then more securely.

“Look at you,” she breathed out when she finally let go of him. “Sehun, you said he was attractive. You didn’t say he was this gorgeous.”

“I believe I told you he’s incredibly attractive,” Sehun said, and Luhan supposed they weren’t going to be hiding anything from Sehun’s mother, because that was when Sehun bent to give him a decidedly unchaste kiss.

Her eyes widened almost comically at the kiss, and Luhan could feel his face flushing.

“Don’t make a big deal of it, mom,” Sehun said, some kind of request in his tone. “Luhan and I are working at our own pace, but it’s going good.”

Having been distracted for only a moment, she reached for Luhan’s stomach, remarking, “You’re so big.”

“Thanks,” Luhan said, even if he felt a sudden spike of insecurity at his size. He wasn’t bigger than average, his doctor had been certain of that. He was just showing it more prominently due to his stature.

“Healthy,” she corrected, a softness in her gaze. “You look very healthy, Luhan.” Her attention jerked to Sehun. “You’d better make sure he stays that way, son.”

Sehun gave a severe nod and it was almost funny to Luhan the dynamic between mother and son.

“Sehun is doing everything right,” Luhan assured her. “You raised him into a very good man.”

Once more Luhan was crushed into a hug by Sehun’s mother, but it was somehow kinder this time, and felt more genuine. Luhan was able to return it easily, and thought for more than a second that he could get used to her hugs. They made him realized how little his own mother had hugged him.

“Sehun is very capable boy,” she said, and that seemed to be that. At least until she added, “But not so good on time management.”

Sehun rolled his eyes as Luhan said, “That’s my fault. On the way here my blood sugar was low and we had to stop to pick something up for me.” Luhan paused. Over Sehun’s mother’s shoulder he could see Sehun, eyes large with warning and his head shaking slowly.

Sehun’s mother asked him evenly, “You felt ill?”

“I’ve got gestational diabetes,” Luhan replied.

Sehun palmed his face.

It was nothing Luhan had ever experienced after that. Within seconds he was being dragged through to the house, Sehun trailing after almost like a small puppy, people practically being tossed out of the way like a tsunami by the petite woman. Luhan fought to keep his balance as Sehun’s mother cleared a room for them with an authoritative voice, then all but tossed him down on a push sofa where a blanket was thrown over his legs. Then came the food, mountains of food, and the absolute urging to not move by Sehun’s mother until she returned with the doctor.

“She does realize that gestational diabetes is completely manageable, right?” Luhan asked, reaching for his nearby bag. He retrieved his glucose meter easily.

Sehun collapsed into the seat next to him, but Luhan could feel his eyes on him as he pricked his finger.

“This is …” Sehun broke off dryly, then looked serious enough make Luhan pause. “This baby is beyond important to her, Luhan. “My eldest little sister has had three miscarriages in five years. My baby sister is infertile. Coupled with me already losing a baby, people have been giving her shit, saying this family is cursed. And a part of her heart breaks every time there’s the hope for a baby, and then it vanishes. She wants a grandbaby so badly.”

Luhan’s gaze softened. “So let her worry over me?”

“Please,” Sehun requested, leaning his shoulder against Luhan’s and kissing the corner of his mouth. “She’ll let up as soon as our girl is born and she’s distracted by buying out each and every baby store from Seoul to Busan.”

Luhan leaned over to return a much deeper kiss to Sehun. “Could you possibly let her know that Suho has that covered? I nearly took a nose dive the last time I was at my place. Lay’s been signing for my packages and a mountain of them have been building in my foyer. Most of them are from Suho, and all of them are baby items. I appreciate the thought, but I think we’re covered for the next five babies.”

Sehun’s face twisted oddly. “You want more kids?”

That was something to consider. “I wasn’t even sure I wanted this one until it was too late to turn back. Eventually, is suppose I might want more. Years from now, of course. I guess the more sensitive question is if you do.” Was this it for Sehun? Luhan wouldn’t have been surprised. There was so much trauma for Sehun associated with children.

“I don’t know,” Sehun said, and sounded completely honest. “But for right now, this one is more than enough. I want to concentrate on her, and getting it right with her, before I risk my untested parental skills on anyone else.”

How was it that Sehun was so good at saying all the right things lately? Luhan was suspicious that the words seem to come so easy to Sehun, considering he’d struggled so much in the beginning.

But ultimately Luhan was just thankful.

“How’s it look?” Sehun asked, leaning over to look at the display readout of the device. His hand settled once more on Luhan’s stomach and it was just enough pressure to get the baby kicking.

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

Luhan’s head jerked up at the familiar voice and was stunned as Sehun’s mother brought an actual group of people towards him. And Eunji was in the lead.

“Mom,” Sehun said at a deadpan, “When you said you were going to get a doctor, you weren’t kidding.”

Luhan nodded a little numbly. “And I have no idea how you managed to get mine.”

Xiumin’s sister, the only doctor Luhan had ever trusted, knelt down next to him, gently took the blood glucose reader from his hand and said, “Imagine my surprise when my future sort of mother-in-law said my services were desperately needed.”

Behind Eunji was Chen, eyebrows up high, and Luhan was struck at how the situation now made sense.

“Oh!” Sehun shot up to his feet suddenly, and Luhan watched him point between Eunji and then Chen. “This is your … she’s Luhan’s … I can’t believe …”

Chen rolled his eyes at Sehun and asked Luhan, “How are you feeling? You’re sick?”

“How did I not realize this?” Sehun asked, still sounding shocked.

Luhan asked Eunji cautiously, “You’re Chen’s fiancée?”

Sehun all but flopped down next to Luhan. “This isn’t my fault. I saw pictures of her before, Luhan, but she looks completely different when she’s at work.”

At least that much was true. Whenever Luhan visited her at the hospital her appearance was severe in its professionalism. But now she almost seemed a different person in her regular clothing, hair down and brushing at her shoulders, facial features accented with makeup.

“I wasn’t certain myself,” she told Luhan in return, “if your Sehun was Jongdae’s best friend. When I discovered it was, Jongdae and I decided to see how long it would take Sehun to realize it.”

Chen crossed his arms. “You cost me almost a hundred, Sehun.”

Sehun’s mother shifted nervously from foot to foot. “Is he alright? Is he okay?”

“I’m fine,” Luhan told her tersely. Then he looked back to Eunji. “I felt sick on the way here, my blood sugar level was too low so I drank something sugary, adjusted my medication, and that’s it. I did everything right.”

“Here!” a young voice called out, and an unfamiliar woman was jogging into the room, a doctor’s travel bag in hand. “I got it from the car. No one is bleeding, right?”

Luhan paled as Sehun snapped out, “That’s my idiotic sister, Luhan. The least favorite, can’t you tell?”

Eunji, who was Luhan’s favorite person ever in that moment, announced loudly, “I need some space to look Luhan over. If you aren’t biologically the father of this baby, please clear out now.” And it wasn’t until Chen was all but pulling Sehun’s mother out of the space, that Luhan could breathe easier.

He found himself repeating, “I did everything I was supposed to when my levels dropped unexpectedly.”

“You did,” she told him easily. “Now let me check you over quickly anyway, so that everyone can calm down and stop treating you like the delicate flower you aren’t.”

Luhan grinned at her. She was most definitely his favorite.

When she declared him perfectly fine ten minutes later, Luhan was finally allowed up onto his feet. There were family members to meet, special treats to eat, and a sense of family that Luhan wanted to be a part of badly.

“Ready?” Sehun asked, guiding Luhan down a short set of steps and then out into the courtyard where everyone was mingling together on the warm late summer day.

“Born ready,” Luhan eased out.

Sehun’s family, from the aunts who hugged him, uncles who were confident his daughter was a boy, cousins who couldn’t stop hugging him, and sisters that were already treating him like an older brother, were incredibly wonderful. They flocked around him curiously, absolutely no one said a mean thing to him, and most of them seemed genuinely pleased that he was pregnant.

They treated him like family. They said he was family. And for Luhan, who’d had so little of that outside of his friends, coming with Sehun to visit his mom was the best thing he’d agreed to in years.

When the sun dipped in the distance the smaller children set off manageable but loud firecrackers, and the stars looked even brighter in the clearer country night sky. It all made Luhan tired but not yet willing to leave.

“We’ll come back,” Sehun promised with a grin and a kiss when Luhan told him as much. “But most of my uncles are starting to pass out now, my aunts won’t be far behind, and trust me, it’s a miracle my sisters have gotten along this long tonight. The peace won’t last, not now that they’ve accepted you into their fold.”

“I’m accepted into the fold?” Luhan asked, maybe a bit too quickly.

Sehun nodded. “You’re definitely a big brother to them now. That means they’ll be nice to you while mom is looking, but it’ll be prank warfare when she isn’t. I’ll do my best to defend your honor, of course, but it’s been a long time since I launched a water balloon and scored a direct hit.”

“It’s like you’re twelve,” Luhan said, but he didn’t mean it in an insulting way. If anything it was pleasing to see how Sehun interacted with his sisters. When Luhan had been small and growing up, he’d have given anything for siblings. If he’d had one, even one he barely got along with, it might have been a little less lonely.

Sehun cupped the side of his face and was leaning in for a kiss when Chen’s voice said from behind them, “This is a new development.”

Sehun paused and Luhan charged ahead, stating, “Did you have a bet on this, too?”

Chen shrugged. “Looks like Xiumin wins the pot. I guessed you two would drag out your awkward sexual tension until the eighth or ninth month. Suho put money down that it wouldn’t happen until after the birth. Only Xiumin thought you guys would get your stuff together this soon.”

“Wait,” Luhan said unsure. “What?”

“You actually had a bet going?” Sehun shook his head. “Wait! You’re not surprised Luhand and I are … working on things? Romantically?”

Chen, hands deep in his pockets, gave them a comforting grin. “Pleasantly surprised, actually. But for clarification, no, Sehun, this wasn’t unexpected. I’m happy for you guys … just be careful. The both of you have a lot of baggage.”

Chen certainly wasn’t Baekhyun, who’d be the hardest sell with their new budding relationship, but Chen was Sehun’s best friend, so winning his approval was major in Luhan’s book.

With a laugh, Luhan asked, “No shovel talk?”

“Unlikely,” Chen said friendly. “Considering your brand new boyfriend might try to use that shovel to burry me six feet under if I tried it. And I’m okay with that.”

“I’m lost,” Sehun said, and Luhan thought his face was absolutely adorable. “What shovel talk are you guys going on about?”

“Shovel talk,” Luhan told him patiently, pulling at his hand towards the car and using his free one to wave goodbye to Chen. “It’s what you’ll be giving the first person who wants to take our daughter out on a date.”

Earlier in the night Luhan had needed to give Sehun’s mother half a dozen hugs and twice as many promises to return soon, before she was willing to let them consider leaving. Now as Luhan raised his hand in parting to her as they passed by the front of the house and to the driveway, she only waved back. It was a far cry from what Sehun had guessed would happen, which involved something along the lines of her running after their car for at least half a mile.

“I still don’t understand,” Sehun said once they reached the car. He popped open Luhan’s door and helped guide him down onto the low seat. “Date … our daughter … the words sound familiar, but they don’t make any sense when you put them together like that.”

Luhan laughed loudly. Sehun was going to be the scariest father ever, once their girl was old enough to start noticing people in romantic ways.

“You’re going to be insufferable in that regard, aren’t you?” Luhan said, stretching the seatbelt around his frame when Sehun started the car.

Sehun looked downright gleeful. “Oh, she’s going to hate me so much when she’s a teenager. I’m kind of looking forward to it.”

The drive back to Seoul was a quiet one, the soft rumble of the car luring Luhan into a light slumber while low jazz played on the car stereo. For all the apprehension and anxiety Luhan had had for the visit, it had turned out utterly perfect. Closing his eyes and napping lightly, the calmness settling over him was a refreshing one.

“Luhan,” Sehun said some time later, nudging him gently. “We’re here.”

It was some work to get his legs to cooperate after sleeping for a bit, and even harder to get up the stairs to the guest room he’d spent the night in one more time. But when he finally got to the soft bed that he sank into blissfully, it was worth the struggle. Especially as he pulled Sehun’s comforting weight down almost on top of him.

“Woah,” Sehun chuckled out, bracing himself next to Luhan. “I should probably try not to fall on you two.”

“Stay,” Luhan mumbled, feeling that just for one night, he wanted to have Sehun with him. For one night he didn’t want walls and space between them. It didn’t matter if they were clothed or merely just sleeping. For his last night with Sehun, he needed the intimacy that they’d been skirting around for days.

After being quiet for a few seconds, Sehun asked, “With you? Tonight?”

Luhan only managed a sleepy nod. He kicked his way under the blankets and made sure to leave enough space for Sehun.

“Okay,” Sehun said, and Luhan felt the bed dip even further. Then Sehun’s arm was around his stomach and his front was pressed to Luhan’s back. “Is this okay?”

Luhan let his feet twine with Sehun’s, tucked an arm underneath his pillow and remarked, “Perfect.”

Chapter Text

There was nothing, Sehun knew emphatically, he wouldn’t do for Luhan. He had, after all, flown all the way to China as if he were James Bond, executed a daring rescue that shouldn’t have worked in the slightest, and risked the friendships he’d had for years on a feeling in his heart that was steadily building.

As terrible as it was to imagine a future without Jae, the sorrow and the reluctance was fading. More than once in a while he’d have thoughts of Luhan in his future, raising their daughter together, going to his mom’s home for Sunday dinner, and simply being a family—without shame.

Sometimes it made him ache with guilt that he was accepting his new situations so easily. And it didn’t matter how many times he told himself that Jae would have wanted this for me, it still made him feel like a traitor and an adulterer. But less and less every day.

Days after taking Luhan to see his family Sehun had spoken to his mother on the phone and confessed to her, “I’m falling in love with him. I’m already in love with him, truthfully.”

“He’s very nice and very charming,” she’d told him back, then said more seriously, “and I think that you should not feel the guilt that I know you do.”

She wasn’t his mother for nothing. He’d already expected her to know why he was so nervous all the time when he thought about how he felt about Luhan.

“You really like him?” he’d asked in return. “You’re not just pretending to? For my sake?”

With a chuckle, she’d said honestly, “You are my son, Sehun. I want only greatness for you and happiness. But if I didn’t like him, or didn’t think he was good for you, I would say something. I would still respect him for carrying my grandchild, but I wouldn’t accept him if I didn’t want to.”

And oddly enough, when Sehun broached the subject with his closest friends, they all had roughly the same answers. Chen had been the most open about it and the most positive. Chanyeol got along easily with Luhan, and like Suho had a friendly relationship with him. Neither one of them thought there was anything wrong with Sehun falling in love with Luhan. Kai had only rolled his eyes and told Sehun that he was the last to know he was the one in love with Luhan. Sehun phoned D.O., who’d been out of the country on business for several months now, and received a shocked but supportive response.

The only wild card was Baekhyun.

“He doesn’t like me,” Sehun recalled hearing Luhan say. “I don’t think he dislikes me for malicious reasons, he just doesn’t like what I represent in your life. He doesn’t like me in a general way, and it has nothing to do with who I am as a person. I understand that.”

Maybe Luhan was okay with that, but Sehun wasn’t.

Baekhyun was always going to be Sehun’s friend. And Sehun both respected and valued him as a friend. But Luhan was Sehun’s future. Luhan was the person that Sehun was having a child with. They were falling in love with each other. And Sehun wasn’t going to let Baekhyun make Luhan feel as if he wasn’t liked, for whatever reason. It wasn’t going to happen.

Sehun was parked outside of the elementary school waiting for Baekhyun after he made his decision. All around him children swarmed, chattering loudly, reminding Sehun that he and Luhan were only five or six years away from buying their first school uniform, and weaning their daughter away from the comforts of home.

It was another half hour before Sehun saw Baekhyun come out of the school himself, shouldering his bag easily, not yet having seen Sehun just yet.

“Baekhyun!” Sehun raised a hand and leaned off his car. He hoped this wasn’t the day he lost one of his best friends.

Making a quick jog to Sehun’s side, Baekhyun frowned. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me we agreed to meet up and I forgot.”

The end of the semester for summer was coming up, and Sehun knew that Baekhyun had been overloaded with preparation for the new batch of fall students that would arrive just after. Baekhyun was the type to grow attached to his kids, and he was always a little touchy when he had to pass them along to new teachers, and start all over.

“No,” Sehun shook his head. “But I think we should talk about a few things. If you’ve got the time. I’ll buy us some food. Want to go with me?”

Baekhyun’s eyes narrowed a little. “That sounds like a suggestion, but I’m guessing it really isn’t.”

Sehun reached back for the passenger side door and held it open for Baekhyun. “That’s why you’re the smart one.”

With a sigh, Baekhyun slid in.

They weren’t even halfway to the loud, bustling restaurant that Sehun planned to take them to, the one with the best hope for some privacy while limiting how out of control their conversation could get, when Baekhyun said tersely, “I guess this is where you tell me to stop being mean to your boyfriend.”

Sehun snapped, “It’s shitty that you already know what we have to talk about.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Baekhyun asked, “Did Luhan tell you I’m being mean to him?”

It was rush hour in Seoul, so even though they weren’t on the highway, within minutes they were stuck in the thick of traffic. It gave Sehun enough time to catch his breath before stating, “He’s not some villain, Baekhyun. In fact, if you weren’t so busying being an asshole to him, you’d be able to see that he’s a really nice person, genuine and pretty damn selfless. But no, for your information, he didn’t tell me you’re being an asshole. He didn’t complain about you once. In fact, I had to ask to even find out.”

Looking a little startled, Baekhyun asked, “Then what did he say?’

“That you don’t like him,” Sehun responded, keeping his eyes locked on the road in front of him. “Luhan knows more than you think, Baekhyun, about Jae. In the beginning Suho was pretty open with him about it, and people have told him things over time. He knows that Jae was your best friend, more like your brother, and he understands why you’re having a hard time with him. Luhan told me he knows you don’t like him, but that he’s okay with it.”

“He’s okay with it?” Baekhyun asked flatly.

“That’s the kind of person he is,” Sehun responded. “Luhan doesn’t like to force people to do or be anything they’re not. If you don’t want to like him, for reasons he understands, then he’ll let it be. He told me that he knows that because his baby is part me, you’ll never be mean to her, and you’ll care for her like a proper uncle, and that’s all he cares about.”

With a huff, Baekhyun remarked, “You didn’t tell me you were dating Jesus, Sehun.”

Sehun gave him a rude gesture with his middle finger, then drove on.

They didn’t speak again until they were at the restaurant, sitting down at their table, and food had been ordered. At that point Sehun put his elbows up on the table and told Baekhyun bluntly, “I want you to look me in the eyes here and tell me that you don’t doubt for one second that I loved Jae--that I still love him now.”

“If this is going to be some huge excuse for you to yell at me and tell me I should be a better person,” Baekhyun said, “then you’d better be buying me some beef. Good beef, too.”

“Baekhyun.”

“All right,” Baekhyun snapped, “I know you loved him, Sehun. That’s never been in question.”

“It seems like it has,” Sehun challenged.

Baekhyun replied, “No, what’s in question is how you could have gone off and filled that void in your life so easily. You want to not spend the rest of your life alone? I get that, Sehun, and I don’t want you to become that old cat lady who has a million strays living in your house and makes twitter updates with the hash tag forever alone. That’s not what I want for you. But there was no hesitation on your part to stick Luhan in the place that Jae was. That’s what pisses me off, Sehun.”

“Is that what you think?” Sehun asked incredulously. That wasn’t it at all. In the beginning he’d struggled so badly. Even a month ago, he’d been torn up by how Luhan was seeping into his life like he’d always belonged there. “Just because you didn’t see me agonize over this, Baekhyun, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Baekhyun leaned forward. “Jaehyuk has been dead seven months. That’s a little over half a year. And you’re already in love with someone else.”

Sehun let out a long breath and slumped in his chair. “I know that.”

“You’re okay with that,” Baehkyun stated.

Bluntly, Sehun said, “I’m absolutely in love with Luhan. He’s very easy to love. That’s not going away anytime soon, Baekhyun. I’m in love with him today, and I’ll be in love with him tomorrow. I will always remember Jae. I will always think of my time with him as something precious. But I love Luhan. I love him. Do you get that? Do you really get it?”

Baekhyun inferred, “He’s not going anywhere.”

“Even if I didn’t love him,” Sehun said, reaching for his nearby drink, “he wouldn’t be going anywhere. He’s pregnant with my baby.” Frowning for a second, Sehun asked, “Is that more what bothers you? That he’s pregnant?”

Steel in his gaze, Baekhyun said, “I thought you were better than this, Sehun.”

“Better than what?”

“A better person than someone who just replaces one child with another.”

Anger jabbed into Sehn’s heart like a hot poker and he stood up so abruptly he knocked is chair over. With a fierce look of anger, Sehun seethed out, “I need to get some air.”

He all but ran his way to the exit, brushing past people as quickly as he could, bumping some of them, being an absolute nuisance to the packed area. But he needed fresh air. He needed to get away from Baekhyun’s words and his looks and the accusations.

Sehun burst out onto the street with a huge gasp of air, bracing his hands on his knees and trying to steady himself.

How could Baekhyun have said something so hurtful? Did it really appear to him that Sehun had merely substituted one baby for another?

There was an ache in Sehun that stretched into his bones and lingered like an infestation when he thought of Jae. But it was nothing, utterly nothing compared to when Sehun allowed himself to think about Seoyoung.

As unexpected as her conception had been, from almost the very beginning Sehun had believed her to be the greatest thing he’d ever done. He’d been nervous and frightful that he and Jae would do something wrong while she grew, but never for one second had Sehun felt anything but love for her, and maybe excitement.

The same couldn’t be said for the baby he’d made with Luhan.

In what felt like an eternity ago, Sehun had believed Seoyoung to be his life’s fruit. It had been his favorite thing in the world to lay next to Jae and feel her between them, and they’d tracked her progress almost obsessively. Every kick had been recorded, every response to music or voices. And through all of it Sehun had felt so utterly protective and proud.

When she’d died, before she’d even had a chance to live, Sehun had wanted to burn the world to the ground. He’d wanted everyone to feel the deadness that was inside him.

Luhan was a second chance at fatherhood. Luhan and their baby were a second chance at feeling unadulterated devotion to a child of his own blood.

But Sehun was not replacing Seoyoung with Luhan’s baby.

They weren’t even close to the same, save for how Sehun loved the both of them.

Once, and only once, Luhan had said, “We’ll make sure she knows about Seoyoung.”

For the most part, Luhan respected Sehun’s wish to not discuss or even reference Jae and Seoyoung. But there were brief moments when it happened, and Sehun’s stomach knotted up.

Luhan added, “When our daughter is old enough, she’ll go to Seoyoung’s memorial and pay her respects. She’ll know that Seoyoun is her sister. You’ll take her, Sehun. You’ll take our daughter to visit Seoyoung and it’s something the two of you will share. You won’t be the only one keeping Seoyoung’s memory alive.”

Luhan didn’t known it at the time, but Sehun had gone to the bathroom afterwards, put the toilet seat down, sat on it, then covered his face with his hands and tried unsuccessfully for several minutes not to cry.

For Sehun, Luhan was a beacon of light in his life now.

“Luhan should have said I was being an asshole to him.”

Sehun didn’t turn at the sound of Baekhyun behind him.

Baekhyun added, “I should have been being an asshole to you instead … or maybe not at all.”

“Before I started falling in love with Luhan,” Sehun said, not even sure if Baekhyun could hear him over the business of the street around then, “I was a person full of cracks. I was just waiting for one more thing come along and shatter me. I’m still cracked now. But Luhan is like glue. He’s reliable and dependable. He treats me gently, but as if those cracks are healing. He supports me and helps me. He’s not Jae, Baekhyun, I know that, and I’m not trying to replace Jae with Luhan. But Luhan makes me feel like I can survive what I’ve lost, and I can get better, and I can get back to where I was before.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier,” Baekhyun spoke up. “I should have said it different, I guess.”

“Seoyoung was my baby. She was my little girl and I wanted to walk off the edge of the earth when she died.”

“Sehun.”

Sehun turned back to Baekhyun finally. “I got Luhan pregnant because I was hurting and I wasn’t thinking or feeling, and I was drunk. But why should a precious life that I can’t help but love have to suffer because of something that has nothing to do with her? Luhan and I can carry the burden of our actions, my daughter doesn’t have to. I’m her father and I’m going to love her, and that doesn’t mean for a second that I love Seoyoung any less.”

“I would never be an asshole to Luhan’s kid,” Baekhyun said, and for the first time he sounded remorseful.

“Don’t be an asshole to Luhan!” Sehun shouted, rounding on him fully. “He didn’t know anything about me when we slept together that night. He had no idea the kind of baggage that came with me, and my issues aren’t his fault. Step acting like they are.”

“I know,” Baekhyun said, head hanging.

Sehun added, “Luhan has done everything right. He’s respected Jae and Seoyoung from the start. He held off on how he was feeling about me because he was afraid to hurt me or ruin or friendship. He’s gone above and beyond to try and be friends with the people who matter to me, and he’s shown you an abundance of respect when you don’t deserve it from how you’ve been treating him.”

“Sehun, I’m sorry.”

They were probably making a spectacle of themselves on the street, but Sehun couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Luhan is a good person,” Sehun said with finality. “And whatever you think of me for going and falling in love with him, I need you to respect him. Our friendship depends on it. If you don’t want to be his friend, or even spend time around him, he accepts that so I will too. But don’t give him dirty looks or disrespectful comments. Don’t make him feel like he has something to be ashamed of. I have plenty to be ashamed of, he doesn’t.”

Mouth pressed into a strict line, Baekhyun gave a sharp nod. “I understand.”

“You’re my friend,” Sehun said, taking a step towards him. “When I look at you, I’m reminded of Jae, because I hardly ever saw you two separate. I see you and I remember all the good memories with him. That’s priceless, Baekhyun. But Luhan and that baby are my future, and I’ll do anything to protect them, even cut you out of my life.”

It wasn’t something he did lightly or easily, but in a choice between Baekhyun and Luhan, there was a clear and obvious winner.

“He’s it then?” Baekhyun asked, sounding curious. “The one for you?”

“I knew Jae was the second I met him,” Sehun said with a dry laugh. “I saw him and I knew that was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with, and have a family with, no doubt about it. Things are different with Luhan, I think you know. But I want to try with him. I’m going to try with him. And I really hope that the world isn’t planning on screwing me over twice, because honestly, Baekhyun, Luhan may have saved my life. There’s no coming back for me if I lose him and the baby.”

Baekhyun hand reached a hand out for Sehun and beckoned, “Come back inside. They’re going to think that we left and give our table away. Plus, you still have that meat to pay for.”

Sehun let himself be led back into the restaurant, but he was far from hungry.

“I guess I’ll have to be nicer to Luhan now,” Baekhyun remarked casually as they settled back down. “Not much of a choice.”

“Because I’ll beat you up if you make him cry?” Sehun asked, feeling as if they’d come to an understanding. Baekhyun absolutely didn’t have to like Luhan, but accepting him was completely different.

Baekhyun shook his head. “Because I need his advice.”

It seemed they’d arrived back to the table just in time, because their food was there a second later, and while Sehun’s stomach was still unsettled, the beef did smell very good.

“Advice for what?” Sehun asked, picking up a strip of beef and dunking it in nearby sauce.

Baekhyun made a face at Sehun. “About how to be a good father. I mean, I guess I could ask you, but honestly, of the two of you, Luhan seems the competent one.”

Frowning, Sehun posed, “You want to ask him how to be a good father? Why?”

From his pocket Baekhyun withdrew his wallet and pulled from it a very distinct ultrasound photograph. “Taeyeon’s pregnant.”

“Are you serious?” Sehun asked, all but diving for the photo.

“Six weeks,” Baekhy clarified. “And that means we’re still in the high risk first trimester, so keep your mouth shut about it until she feels comfortable telling other people.”

A smile broke on Sehun’s face. “You’re going to be a father.”

“I am,” Baekhyun said, and this time there was a not so subtlety hidden smile on his face. “Taeyeon and I are going to elope. Next week, actually.”

“Wait, what?” Sehun’s eye darted from the ultrasound picture to Baekhyun’s face. “You can’t get married without the rest of us there.”

Gingerly Baekhyun took the picture back from Sehun and told him, “We have to, and it has to be secretive. If Taeyeon’s parents find out she’s pregnant now they’ll take her away to somewhere like America or Canada. We have to get married before they can do that.”

Sehun jammed is finger down on the table and said, “You aren’t getting married without me being there. Jae wouldn’t let us get married without you there so you’re going to extend the same courteously. Got it? You tell me the date and I’ll be there, even if you can’t make a big deal of it.”

Uncertainly, Baekhyun asked, “Why do you want to be so supportive and such a good friend to me? I’ve been a jerk to the person you love. I’ve been hard to deal with and judgmental and it’s not even like I can blame it on losing Jae. He was only my best friend. He was your husband.”

“Because we’re family,” Sehun said softly. “Isn’t that what Suho is always saying? It doesn’t make what kind of blood we have. If we love each other, if we’re important to each other, that makes us family. I don’t think you have the right to use Jae as an excuse, but he was your special person. He was your best friend and that’s sacred considering how you were brothers more than anything else. Baekhyun, you deserve extra leeway, or at least more than you think you deserve.”

Gnawing on his bottom lip for a second, Baekhyun admitted, “I told Jae not to marry you. I said he was too good for you and that you’d end up hurting him.”

Sehun whispered, “Didn’t I? Wasn’t it my fault?”

Roughly and in a low tone, Baekhyun said, “No, it wasn’t, and at least part of you knows that. Hopefully it’s the important part.”

“I have always blamed myself.”

“My point is,” Baekhyun continued, “that I never thought you were in Jae’s league. I thought you were always a bit of an asshole, selfish and needy. Now I really feel like an asshole that it took Jae dying for me to see how wrong I was.”

The piece of beef that Sehun put in his mouth felt bland and almost like paper. It was all in his mind but it was hard to swallow it down. “Isn’t life about misjudging people?”

“It shouldn’t be,” Baekhyun sighed out. Then he said, “Taeyeon and I are getting married Saturday morning, down at the local courthouse. We’ll do something better when we have the money and the time, but for right now, that’s our plan. If you want to be there, I’d be happy to have you serve as a witness. And hey, bring Luhan with you. Maybe we can make it a double event.”

Shock flushed through Sehun’s body. “Luhan and I aren’t … we’re not …”

“You’re not going to marry him?” Baekhyun asked, eyes narrowing. “That was the one thing I was sure about.”

“I don’t think so,” Sehun said, words shaking with his uncertainty. “Baekhyun, we just admitted that we have feelings for each other. We’re still getting to know each other. Why would we get married?”

Baekhyun looked at him as if he were an idiot. “Because you got him pregnant. Look, god knows Korea has come a long way to joining the rest of the progressive world, but if you don’t marry Luhan before that baby is born, you know what people are going to call your daughter, and it’ll only get worse when she starts school.”

Sehun was horrified that Baekhyun was broaching a subject he’d never stopped to think about.

“And look, I know some shit went down with Luhan in China recently,” Baekhyun said, breaking through Sehun’s frantic worry. “But no matter what you did to get him back in the country, he’s not a Korean citizen. Your kid might be, but Luhan isn’t. He can’t stay here indefinitely on that work visa. What are you going to do when that happens? You can’t just share custody across an ocean.”

“Oh, shit,” Sehun gasped out. “Oh, shit, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun shrugged, “I don’t think you should just go run off and get married to Luhan if it won’t mean something. You married Jae because you loved him and because you were ready to devote yourself wholly to him. That’s the right thing. But if you don’t get something worked out with Luhan you could end up only seeing your daughter during the summer months and having to pick her up at the airport on top of that.”

As the meal progressed Baekhyun tried to move the conversation along, but Sehun couldn’t focus on anything but the idea of Luhan’s work visa expiring. It probably wouldn’t happen for years, but it would happen, and who knew if he’d be granted an extension or a replacement visa. What if Luhan had to go back to China? He’d take their daughter with him and Sehun would what? He’d have to follow after? Or do what Baekhyun said and settle for seeing her a few months out of the year during the summer.

But if they got married, if Luhan married Sehun and became a naturalized citizen through their marriage …

Sehun had taken his marriage vows to Jae with absolute sincerity. He’d meant every word he’d sworn and as far as he’d been concerned at the time, it had to matter because it was going to be his only wedding.

But faced with the idea of losing Luhan? Of losing his daughter? To something stupid like a visa?

Sehun would marry Luhan in an instant to prevent it from happening. They already loved each other, and maybe they weren’t necessarily ready for marriage, but if it meant Luhan got to stay in Korea, it was worth doing. It could be something official for the sake of protection, and they could keep on with their relationship as it was. Nothing had to change, Sehun reasoned. Nothing had to be different except for in the eyes of the law.

Only Luhan wasn’t that kind of person. Luhan wasn’t about using means to justify a desired end. Luhan was honest to a fault and likely wouldn’t go through with it. Not if he didn’t want to marry Sehun or think they were headed in that direction.

It was something Sehun was going to have to talk to Luhan about, and sooner, rather than later.

“So,” Baekhyun said once they’d finished eating and Sehun was dropping him back at the school’s parking lot for his car. “Does this mean that you’re going to cancel that hit on me?”

Sehun tried to sound noncommittal as he said, “I’ll have to talk it over with Luhan.”

“It’s off then,” Baekhyun said confidently. “That guy is way too forgiving.”

“Tell me about it,” Sehun mumbled, then he raised his arm to wave at Baekhyun. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

Baekhyun returned the wave and Sehun, despite his panic about Luhan’s visa, felt much better about his situation with Baekhyun.

The feeling was only solidified when Luhan called him late the next day and said, “I think something is wrong with Baekhyun.”

Sehun had been working late at the office. The sun had already gone down and he was trying to cram as much work in as possible. Getting Saturday off for Baekhyun’s wedding hadn’t been a problem. But his home had finally sold, and with his securing of the new house, it was now a mad rush to get as much packed up before moving day. He had to get ahead on his current projects so he could dedicate as much time to packing as possible.

“What kind of problem?” Sehun felt his heart thud harder. He’d been so sure that he’d gotten through to Baekhyun and reached some kind of understanding. “What did he say to you? Was he mean to you? I swear I’ll--”

“He showed up at the coffee shop,” Luhan interrupted, sounding just as shocked at Sehun was. “He just showed up while I was hanging out with Tao, and insisted on buying the both of us something new to drink. He ordered for me, made sure to get something without caffeine, nailed my order perfectly, then sat down and said he hadn’t been giving me a fair chance, which he was there to fix. Sehun, I think your friend is on drugs.”

Sehun laughed with relief. “Oh, Luhan. Baekhyun’s not on drugs.”

“Are you sure,” Luhan questioned. “He was very nice, very attentive, and before he left he asked to touch my stomach. I’m actually freaking out a little.”

Leaning back in his chair, Sehun said, “Just indulge him, will you? Baekhyun and I had a heart to heart yesterday and cleared some things up. He’s going to be making an effort to not be an asshole to you, and I’m going to try and be a little clearer to my friends that me loving you doesn’t mean I stop loving Jae.” Startling a little, Sehun asked in a quiet voice, “Are you okay with that?”

“Sehun,” Luhan said patiently and in an understanding tone. “I’d be worried if you didn’t still love him. You seem to be forgetting that the human heart has an amazing capacity for love. You loving him doesn’t make me think that it detracts from how you feel about me in the least bit. I’m okay with it. I think it’s more than okay.”

Releasing a breath of air, Sehun said, “I don’t want to cling to my past, but I can’t just turn off things like loving Jae, even if he’s not here anymore. If that ever starts to bother you, you have to promise to tell me. I don’t want to lose my memories of him or why I loved him so much, but I don’t want to lose you, either.”

“You won’t,” Luhan said firmly. “Now, what’s this about a wedding Saturday morning?”

“Baekhyun told you?”

Luhan replied, “Just that he’d tell me the details later and that he’d appreciate it if I could make sure you were there on time. Baekhyun has someone special? Someone he wants to marry?”

“Taeyeon,” Sehun offered up. “And if you agree to be my date for the small event, I’ll explain everything.”

“Saturday morning?”

“Pick you up at eight?”

Sehun could almost feel Luhan’s smile through the phone when he replied, “Sounds good. And Sehun? I think I could get used to Baekhyun being nice to me. He’s a pretty great person when he’s not acting all constipated. I’m starting to understand why you’re friends.”

“I kind of get the feeling he’ll be your friend eventually too,” Sehun said.

“Don’t be late tomorrow,” Luhan warned, and when the call ended, Sehun was able to get almost all of his work finished.

He dressed in his best slacks and dress shirt for Baekhyun’s impromptu wedding. A full suit seemed too much for a courthouse wedding, but he knotted a nice tie around his neck and put on his nice shoes.

When Luhan opened the door for him just before eight, Sehun was stunned by him. It was of Sehun’s continuous opinion that Luhan was only getting more beautiful as his pregnancy progressed, but now he looked down right gorgeous with a fitted shirt smoothed down around his stomach and tucked into black, perfectly creased pants. The cream color of the shirt was perfect against Luhan’s completion and Sehun couldn’t help pressing into his personal space for a heavy and hot kiss.

“Enough of that,” Luhan said, pushing at Sehun when there was the barest hint of tongue. “We’ve got a couple of extra seconds and I want to show you something. I haven’t had the time to do it yet but now is good.”

Sehun followed him down the short hallway in the small apartment, and towards not the first door that Sehun knew was Luhan’s bedroom, but the second door that had never been open before.

“The nursery?” Sehun asked before Luhan reached for the handle.

“It will be,” Luhan nodded. “I haven’t even started on it yet, though. Mostly I’ve been waiting for Kris to free up some time so he can put together the crib for me and a few other things that Suho insisted on buying. I’d do it myself, but I’m at a disadvantage with my stomach and mobility at the moment.”

“Kris?” Sehun hated how easily his face twisted into a frown. “Why would you need to wait for him? I can do it for you. You should have said something.”

Luhan paused. “You have enough on your plate right now, especially with the move and you work and it’s not that big of a deal. Kris offered.”

Kris shouldn’t have had to offer. Sehun was disappointed in himself for not beating the man to the punch. That was his baby Luhan was pregnant with. Sehun should have been the one helping.

“Anyway,” Luhan said, fingers at the door knob. “Until it’s the nursery, it’s my paint studio.”

“You’re not supposed to be painting,” Sehun said, pressing a kiss to the back of Luhan’s head.

“And I’m not.” Luhan pushed open the door. “I did all these before the cutoff.”

Sehun’s eyes widened at the sight of the room’s contents. “Luhan,” he breathed out, so amazed and astounded. “This is …”

There were dozens of canvas paintings, all in different sizes, cluttered around the modest but bright room. It was a collection, Sehun realized, a collection of paintings all intended to be one series, the paints all looking fluid from one sheet of canvas to another, almost as if they were small pieces of a much bigger puzzle.

“These are gorgeous,” Sehun said, trying to get a better look at some of the paintings. “Luhan, I knew you were talented, but this is … incredible. How can you just be hiding them here? You should be having gallery showings and be in art books. You’re …”

“I’m not that good,” Luhan said with a chuckle, “but I have been working on these for a long time, and I want to show them eventually. But they’re not why I brought you back here.”

Luhan moved to the corner of the room where there was a painting with a sheet over it. Luhan removed the sheet carefully and then held up a long canvases board for Sehun to see.

It was obviously the crown jewel of the collection. Sehun could see that, even with his untrained eye. Exquisite and provoking, it was something that should have been framed and having in an art museum as far as Sehun was concerned. But there was something off about it.

“It doesn’t fit in with the others,” Sehun felt confident in saying.

“I like that you can tell that,” Luhan said, appreciation flecked in his eyes. “And you’re right, it’s not part of this collection. I did this, and one other, right before I hit my third trimester.” He held the canvas out to Sehun. “This is your commission.”

“Mine?” Sehun asked with pleasure. “You remembered.”

Luhan nodded. “I can only paint when I feel inspired. Sometimes I don’t paint for months. But when I did this, I’ve never had the inspiration come to me so quickly or feel so … overwhelming. I don’t even remember painting most of it, I just remember the feelings attached. That’s why it came out so good. My best work is always done by the creative part of me, not the thinking part.”

“It’s truly beautiful,” Sehun said, daring to run his fingers across the splotches of paint. “Luhan, thank you.” He tried to picture the layout of his new house, and knew exactly where he was going to put it.

Luhan leaned over, only a little unsteady with his balance, and pressed cool lips against Sehun’s cheek. “It’s how I feel about you. I know, it may not make much sense to you just looking at it, but it does to me.”

Sehun’s hand brushed along Luhan’s jaw for a second kiss. “I don’t need to understand it to know it’s beautiful.”

“We should go,” Luhan said. “I don’t want to be late for Baekhyun’s wedding. If we are, he might not like me anymore.”

Sehun put the painting down gently and promised to come back for it after he dropped Luhan off later that day. Then after only a slight holdup, they were on their way to the courthouse.

And hour later, while Taeyeon and Baekhyun repeated their vows to each other, with Luhan and Sehun seated towards the back of the room for the illusion of privacy, Sehun whispered to Luhan, “It’s not very romantic, right?”

Luhan’s fingers were held tight in Sehun’s, cradled almost reverently when Luhan responded, “You had a big church wedding, didn’t you?”

Sehun cracked a smile. “It wasn’t my choice. Jae’s family is pretty devout. I just did whatever he wanted to make him happy.”

Sehun could see Luhan’s eyes as they traced over Baekhyun and Taeyeon, to where their hands were clasped, how their bodies were angled, and the way they were pressed in together intimately.

“They love each other,” Luhan concluded, sounding absolutely sure. “A church and a hundred witnesses and a catering service afterwards isn’t what makes a wedding romantic. The fact that I barely know Baekhyun, and I don’t know Taeyoen at all, but I can see how in love they are, that’s what’s romantic. That’s what matters when it comes to a wedding.”

Sehun knew in that moment how absolutely right he’d been a day ago when he’d thought that Luhan wouldn’t be willing to marry him merely for citizenship.

Tentatively, Sehun asked, “What about you? What would it take to get you up there?”

Looking pensive, Luhan ultimately shrugged. “I’d just need someone to stand beside me that I loved and that I trusted. Someone I wanted to build a future with who was going to be in it for the long haul, especially with my extra passenger.”

When Luhan gave him a small but candid grin, Sehun squeezed his hand while Baekhyun and Taeyeon kissed.

For citizenship Luhan wouldn’t marry him, but maybe for love.

And love was a good bet to hedge.

Chapter Text

Sehun’s house was a downright mess. With boxes and bubble wrap and people absolutely everywhere, it was like ground zero, and Luhan was afraid he’d knock his huge stomach into something valuable.

Standing dead center in the living room, surrounded by brown shipping crates and rolls of thick tape, it was the only place Luhan had been able to reason he was the most likely to be in the way. And it gave him a decent perspective from where everyone was.

Sehun was in his office, delicately packing away his electronics, and next to him was Chen, taking down the items that lined his shelves in the room. Chanyeol was the closest in the kitchen, haphazardly slinging dishes into boxes in a way that made Luhan wince, while Kai in the formal dining room, was bubble wrapping the expensive and antique looking chairs that were usually clustered around the table.

“Look alive,” someone said, and Luhan staggered a little to catch a roll of bubble wrap that came flying his way.

“Funny,” Luhan called out to Baekhyun who was on his way down from upstairs where he’d been packing up either the master bedroom, or the guest room Luhan had been staying in. But Luhn was surprised he was even there. It was less than half a week ago that he’d been married. And though his job dictated that he and his new wife couldn’t go away for a honeymoon, not even for the weekend, it seemed awfully gracious of Baekhyun to be spending his time with Sehun, and not Taeyeon. “What’s this for?”

Baekhyun hit the bottom landing of the stairs with two flat feet and gestured to the room around Luhan. “Pack that stuff up. Sehun’s not the kind who’s particular about what goes in what box, as long as everything is clearly marked. The movers are coming tomorrow morning, so we have to have everything ready to go by then.

A little awkwardly Luhan held the bubble wrap in his hands. “I don’t know Sehun’s home very well.” He’d spent several days staying with Sehun after he’d returned from China, but that time had been mostly spent in the kitchen cooking meals, or the guest bedroom sleeping. Luhan’s life had gone on in the independent way he was accustomed to. He’d just come home to Sehun at night.

And how nice that had been.

“I just said Sehun won’t care,” Baekhyun grumbled. “We can’t all be like that lucky bastard D.O..”

“D.O.?” Luhan questioned. “Sehun’s friend who’s in England right now, right?”

Baekhyun gave a sharp nod. “He’s over there doing some sound editing for a television production. He thinks he’s this hot shot ever since he started doing stuff like that. I bet that jerk extended his stay on purpose, just so he didn’t have to come back and help us get Sehun into his new place.”

Luhan tossed the bubble wrap back to Baekhyun. “Sehun doesn’t pick his friends unwisely, so I’m going to choose to believe you’re lying.”

Baekhyun sent him a dirty look. “You calling me a liar? I’ll have you know I always tell the truth. It’s people who have trouble hearing it that causes the drama.” Then the bubble wrap was returned to Luhan with the order, “Get to bubble wrapping. You’re not here just to look pretty. If we needed that, I’d have brought Taeyeon.”

Sehun came through the archway to the living room and threw a nearby lounge chair pillow at Baekhyun’s head. “Shut up and go work, slave. Luhan’s here for my aesthetic preferences.”

Baekhyun flipped Sehun off but Luhan was starting to speak Baekhyun more fluently now. It was all friendly, even if it didn’t seem that way.

It was just still so odd. It was odder than odd. It was just downright weird.

Baekhyun being nice to him, showing up for coffee, inviting him out to lunch with the others, and generally being a decent human being was nothing Luhan had ever expected to experience. Having it was nice, but still so weird. But it did genuinely feel as if Baekhyun liked him more now, and every time they talked, be it about Baekhyun’s job, or Luhan’s painting, or even just Sehun, they liked each other a little more.

They weren’t friends just yet, but Luhan could see them getting there, and he really liked it.

“I’m here to be eye candy?” Luhan asked, hands on his hips.

“You’re super hot,” Sehun said seriously, his arms sliding around Luhan’s waist to pull him closer. “No amount of your complaining about your growing size will make me think otherwise. You are incredibly attractive and I need you here for motivation. Whenever I get tired, I’ll just look over and see you, and then I’ll be able to keep going.”

“That’s got to be the only thing I’m good for in this situation then,” Luhan said, accepting a simple kiss from Sehun. “You know I can’t lift anything over a couple of pounds.”

Something fierce settled across Sehun’s face. “No lifting of anything, okay? Nothing. You can’t risk it.”

More and more Sehun was looking at him with fierce protectiveness. He was clingier now than he had been before, and worried endlessly. Luhan had honestly thought Sehun was going to call for an ambulance the other day when he’d had a particularly bad case of heartburn and hadn’t been able to get it to go away very easily.

Luhan wasn’t stupid, either. He knew it was because he wasn’t that far away from his eighth month. Jae had died in his eighth month, and so had Seoyoung.

Things would likely get better once he was in his ninth, and that association was gone. At least Luhan hoped so. If Sehun got any worse Luhan was liable to lash out at him for his smothering. And that wasn’t even counting Sehun’s mother who’d taken up worrying after him like it was a full time occupation.

“I’m lifting bubble wrap,” Luhan said, pointedly hoisting up the roll. “I guess I’ll wrap up your ornaments and trinkets. Those don’t weigh anything.”

Sehun nodded in agreement. “But leave the paintings on the walls. I’ll have Chanyeol or Baekhyun grab them later. A couple of pieces are pretty heavy and sturdy. I don’t want you straining.”

At their mention Luhan looked over to the visible foyer, where his art was hanging.

He supposed now was as good a time to say something.

With a gesture, Luhan asked, “Do you know where that art came from?”

“What art?” Sehun strained to follow his finger. “Oh. That. I … I know Jae bought it. He liked the artist and said so when he brought those home--probably more than the art itself. Jae really had a thing for artists. He loved them. I wonder if I should even bring those. Maybe those should go into storage.”

“Jae liked artists,” Luhan commented. “Suho told me the same thing when I first saw them. I guess now I know he also meant you when he said Jae liked artists.”

Tilting, Sehun asked, “You talked to Suho about the art? When? Why?”

“That first time I spoke to him, the day after the night we conceived our girl, that’s when Suho and I talked. I was curious why you had some of my art hanging on your walls. I honestly don’t even remember selling it. I must have though, right? To Jae.”

Sehun all but stumbled his way past Luhan to the three pieces that hung next to each other. He stared hard at the paintings, and then said with wide eyes. “I’m so stupid. Of course this is your style I recognize it now. Wait, you sold these to Jae? You met Jae?”

“I met Jae,” Luhan repeated. “I have people ask about my art from time to time at the coffee shop, but Kris handles all the transactions.” Luhan wandered slowly to Sehun’s side. “Jae though, he caught me one day when I was in the shop, and I sold these to him. I guess it’s weird that we’d have this connection to each other before any of this happened.”

Quietly, Sehun said, “Maybe it’s fate.”

Luhan could only shrug.

“I’m putting these into storage,” Sehun said in a decisive way. “I’ve got that new piece you painted for me, and that should go in the living room above the fire place. I want everyone to see it when they come to visit.”

Luhan touched Sehun’s arm. “You’re not going to purge all of Jae’s things before you go into the new house, are you? You’re not getting rid of everything of his, right?”

Sehun’s eyes stayed trained on the pictures. “I want our new house to be about me and you and about our daughter. I told you, I’m not trying to erase the past, but I want to make a clean go at the future.”

“I want your past to be a part of our future,” Luhan said quietly. What kind of person would he be if he wanted Sehun to forget who he’d been and who he’d loved?

“It’ll be fine,” Sehun assured, putting a hand on Luhan’s stomach. “Now, if you don’t want to deal with the living room, I don’t think Baekhyun’s gotten very far into the upstairs.” He frowned. “What about your lazy friends? Why didn’t any of them come to help?”

Luhan pinched Sehun. “Don’t talk about my friends. They’re not slackers like yours. Tao’s got class, Xiumin is working, Lay’s out of town, and Kris is spending time with his parents for the first time since they got back from Canada. They have valid reasons.”

From further back in the house, Chen called out, “Sehun! Do you want all these books packed up? Which ones do you use for work?”

“Gotta go,” Sehun said in an exaggerated way, like all he wanted was to stay with Luhan. “I’ll send Backhyun back to help you if you want to try your hand upstairs. But don’t overdo it! If you need to rest, rest. If you want to nap, nap. There’s still plenty of food--”

“Sehun.” Luhan silenced him with a kiss. “I’m fine. Go.”

As Sehun trekked off towards his office Luhan peered up the stairs. They were running behind schedule for the movers tomorrow. Luhan wagered that he’d be able to help more upstairs than down. Upstairs probably meant packing up a lot of linens, rugs and curtains. He could do that, and quickly, too.

With a grunt of some effort, Luhan started his way up the stairs. He’d been fairly mobile for really the longest amount of time, even as he neared his last trimester. But there was no denying stairs were starting to become the enemy. Every time he climbed to the third floor where his apartment was located, he felt woozy and heated. If it got any worse he didn’t know what he’d do.

It seemed climbing Sehun’s stairs was no different. Though it was one flight this time, by the time he reached the top landing he was breathing hard, starting to sweat, and his knees felt weak. Keeping a hand on the nearby wall he tried to take a step forward, but the world spun dangerously and with a shout of surprise he was sliding down the wall to land on the ground with a grunt.

There was a veritable thunder of footsteps on stairs and the next thing Luhan knew he could hear half a dozen panicked voices and there were hands touching him everywhere.

“Give him some damn room to breathe!” Sehun demanded.

Luhan tried to focus on Sehun’s face as his vision wobbled on the edges.

“Luhan,” Sehun said, blanched white and sweating himself. “Stay still. Someone is going to call for an ambulance and--”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” Luhan said, and as he blinked a few more times, things came fully into focus. The world wasn’t sideways anymore, and he was chilled, not hot. “I’m okay now. I just got dizzy for a second. It’s those stairs. It’s always the stairs.”

Sehun pressed in close to Luhan, knocking their foreheads together gently. “This has happened before?”

“I think I might be at the end of my stair climbing days,” Luhan admitted with a weak chuckle.

Next came Sehun’s hand to his forehead and the question, “You feel better now?”

“Much,” Luhan said, and he gestured for Sehun and the nearby Chanyeol to lift him up.

“You’re certain?” Sehun demanded before he would pull.

Sehun’s face wasn’t the only worried one, he realized. Everyone else looked just as terrified for him.

“Did you fall badly?” Baekhyun asked, his fingers twisting against each other nervously.

Kai nodded. “Maybe you should stay seated for a little longer.”

“I’m good,” Luhan said, gripping Sehun’s hand. “Let me stand up. The dizziness is gone.”

Once he was on his feet Luhan took a deep breath and patted his stomach gently. “She’s throwing off my balance, and ruining how mobile I used to be. But this too shall pass. Try not to freak out too much, Sehun. I am telling the truth when I say I’m feeling fine now.” There was just the tiniest bit of unease lingering in him, but it was fading with every passing second.

“You should rest,” Sehun decided, his hand at Luhan’s hip inching towards his stomach. “Just to be safe.”

“No,” Luhan corrected, trying to be patient. “I should stay active and on my feet until they start to hurt. I don’t need to rest. I don’t need a nap, and don’t you dare suggest I sit down and eat something. I’d weight a hundred extra pounds if I let you keep shoving food in my face to comfort your nerves.”

“Moody,” Kai mumbled, and Luhan glared at him.

“Hello!” a voice called out along with the heavy sound of the front door. “Sehun?”

Sehun ground. “That’s Suho.”

“I’m fine,” Luhan said yet again, feeling almost like a broken record. “Baekhyun, are going to keep working up here?” When the other boy nodded, he continued, “Good. And Sehun, could you try not to say anything about this to Suho? You know how fussy he’ll get.”

Despite all his open reluctance to leave Luhan, eventually Sehun started down the stairs, Kai, Chen and Chanyeol trailing after him.

When they were out of earshot, Baekhyun asked quietly, “You really feel okay, or are you faking it so Sehun will stop mouth breathing down your neck?”

“Are you going to go and tattle on me if I’m not okay?”

Baekhyun gave him a deceptively sweet smile. “I am, Luhan, because the both of us know what happens to Sehun if you and that kid aren’t okay.”

Luhan held his gaze for a moment, almost impressed with Baekhyun’s loyalty to Sehun’s wellbeing. Finally, he said, “I’m still a little wobbly, but I really am okay. I was just dizzy. I get dizzy a lot. More than I tell Sehun.”

Baekhyun gave a silent nod.

“Want to get going then?” Luhan asked, thumbing towards the nearby hallway. “Or did you prefer to bond some more?”

Baekhyun’s response was, “You realize my kid and you kid are going to be born about six months apart, right?”

“What are you getting at?”

“It remains to be seen,” Baekhyun said, leading the way down the hallway, “But either they’re going to be mortal enemies, or best friends. I don’t know which one I’m pulling for.”

“Could be neither,” Luhan said, trailing easily after him. “Maybe they’ll fall in love and you and I will end up as in-laws. Won’t that be ironic?” Luhan teased.

The look of horror on Baekhyun’s face was hilarious. “Are you kidding me? No. No offense, Luhan, but I don’t think you understand the kind of father Sehun is going to be to your daughter. Overprotective doesn’t even begin to describe it. So no, I hope our kids don’t grow up and fall in love, because I don’t want Sehun to try and kill my child, and god help me if it’s a boy, and I don’t want to end up locked in mortal combat with Sehun because he came after my kid.”

With a grin on his face, Luhan said, “My daughter is never getting married, is she?”

“Maybe not until Sehun is so old he can’t chase any and all potential love interests from the property,” Baekhyun replied, returning the smile.

They ended up working on the guest room that Luhan had stayed in, first. Baekhyun had already packed a lot of the smaller things, but there was plenty left in the open closet and nearby shelves.

Luhan reached for some of the bedding and tried not to think of how he and Sehun had spent a night in it tangled together, resting easily in embrace.

Suho had brought with him, Luhan found out half an hour later, bags of food from the nearby grocery store. To Chanyeol the food was delivered, and for lunch Luhan got his first taste of what Sehun was talking about when he claimed his friend was an amazing chef.

“You should be a professional,” Luhan insisted as all of them clustered around the dining room table, bowls of food everywhere. “Or have a television show.”

“I’ve been telling him that for years,” Kai insisted.

Chanyeol looked a little embarrassed, but overall thrilled with the praise. He admitted, “I wanted to be a chef when I was younger, but my parents were against it. They thought it was too risky of a career choice, and they wouldn’t pay for me to study it. So now it’s just my hobby.”

The food was savory and like heaven as it filled Luhan’s taste buds with pleasure. “But how’d you get so good?”

Chanyeol gave him a flirty wink. “In high school, and then in college, I only dated cuties who could cook.”

Baekhyun laughed, “Chanyeol was known of being a serial dater. He’d date three, sometimes four different people a semester, and no one could work out why for the longest amount of time.”

“Sometimes I look at you and I’m not sure if you’re an absolute fool, or a secret genius, Chanyeol,” Suho said in a pleased way.

Luhan looked around the table as the meal wound down. The food had been amazing, the company was wonderful, and Luhan felt for the first time like he fit into Sehun’s odd but charming group of friends. He felt like one of them and it was a good feeling.

After that it was back upstairs, though this time Luhan had Suho in tow instead of Baekhyun, and he didn’t think that was a coincidence at all.

Still, Suho seemed to know Sehun’s house better than Baekhyun, so he and Luhan were able to cover even more ground. They finished the guest bedroom, the spare storage room, the linen closet, and the bathroom.

“Should we wait?” Luhan asked as he placed a hand on Sehun’s closed bedroom door.

He’d only been inside once, when their daughter had been conceived. And not once had Luhan felt the urge to enter it when he’d stayed with Sehun for nearly a week. The room felt off limits, naturally, and like the last place Luhan should be for the sake of Sehun’s sanity.

It hadn’t been lost on Luhan that Sehun wasn’t sleeping in the room.

“No,” Suho finally decided, turning the handle. “We need to get it done, and I don’t think we can count on Sehun to do this room himself.”

The room was exactly like Luhan remembered it, all clean lines and modernity. The bed was perfectly made, but clearly unused, and in fact it seemed like the only thing that did have any functionality in the room was the closet door and the items inside.

“Is it hard for you to be in here?” Luhna questioned Suho, trying to be extra careful and respectful of the items on the nearby dresser top. None of them seemed like they’d were objects belonging to Sehun, which meant they had to be Jae’s.

“Seeing my brother’s things?” Suho responded.

Luhan’s hand paused over a trinket box. “Yeah. And maybe you should be handling these things. I can do the closet instead, and the bathroom.”

Suho moved to stand next to him, opening the lid of the box. “Sehun asked us if we wanted any of Jae’s things after the funeral. My parents took some stuff, and I thought that was enough. I ended up regretting that I couldn’t stomach the idea of taking anything more from Sehun. I definitely wanted more.” From the box he pulled a smaller one and cracked it open for Luhan to see. “But I didn’t think Sehun should have had to be parted from things like this.”

Jae’s wedding ring. Luhan knew what it was the moment he saw it.

“Sehun doesn’t want to keep Jae’s things when he moves to the new house,” Luhan said, and it felt a bit like giving away one of Sehun’s secrets, but it was also important Suho knew. “I don’t know if he thinks he has to do that for me and the baby, but I don’t want him to, and I think he’ll regret it.”

After a moment of thinking, Suho said, “How about we set aside all of Jae’s things. I’ll take them back with me to my place, just in case, and Sehun never has to know unless he shows any kind of regret.”

“Okay,” Luhan agreed. But for the most part, he let Suho handle Jae’s things.

By the time Luhan’s feet were aching, and his back protesting, the sun had long gone down and people were starting to leave at a steady pace.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Suho promised when he was the last out the door, Luhan hanging back as Sehun waited to close the door after him. “The movers will do all the heavy lifting, but we’ll pick up the slack for the rest of your things. Just remember the friend rule for these sorts of things.”

Sehun chuckled. “I remember. Pizza and beer for anyone who helps.”

“Bye, Luhan!” Suho called into the house, then he was jogging away, the door closing after him.

Sehun came padding back into the house, closer to Luhan, but stopped short and asked plainly, “Do you swear you’re okay? You scared me half to death earlier. I thought that something had happened to you, or to our baby, and I just thought that I wouldn’t be able to--”

“Sehun.” Once in a while Luhan forgot how truly fragile Sehun was. “Dizziness and a lack of stamina is perfectly normal for me in my late second trimester. And I really want to know that you believe me when I tell you that I know my body better than you. If I felt anything was wrong, or even merely suspected, I would go right to the hospital. No hesitation.”

After a prolonged delay, Sehun finally nodded, then he reached a hand out for Luhan’s stomach and let his fingers trail across the taut skin. “I love her so much already Luhan. And I’m so damn paranoid about everything now.”

“I know you are,” Luhan leaned into his touch, his mouth brushing against Sehun’s. “But trust me to protect her when she’s inside, just like I’m going to trust you to protect her once she’s out.”

“Fair enough,” Sehun said, then with a sigh collapsed onto the sofa in the living room. Aside from the larger pieces of furniture, the room was almost completely bare. Luhan wondered what the new house would look like. Did Sehun have plans for something modern, or would go with something more traditional?

Luhan joined him on the sofa with a groan as he eased himself down. He enfolded his arms around his stomach and said, “So we need to talk about something.”

“Hmm?” Sehun asked, stretching his feet out.

“Tao is hell bent on throwing me a baby shower, and the rest of my friends have gotten behind the idea with an annoying amount of determination, so it looks like it’s actually going to happen.”

Sehun’s eye jerked over to him. “You know that’s going to upset my mom. She wants to throw you the most epic baby shower that Korea has ever seen. Trust me, Luhan, she’s already started stockpiling baby gifts.”

“That’s nice,” Luhan grimaced a bit, “and if she wants to throw one for me, I’ll be more than gracious towards her. But I kind of want one, if I’m being forced to have one, with my friends who are family to me. I want Tao and Lay and Kris and Xiumin there, and I want you and your friends. That’s what I want.”

Easily enough Sehun shrugged. “Guess we’ll be having two baby showers.”

Suspiciously, Luhan asked, “You acknowledge that you’ll be attending both with me?”

“We’re a team, aren’t we?” Sehun countered.

The pleased feeling in Luhan was downright unbearable.

“Okay,” he said. “But agreeing to a baby shower means we have to agree on a couple of other important things.”

“Like what baby directory we should use?”

“No,” Luhan chuckled. “Like what we’re going to do about her name. She’ll need a Korean name and a Chinese one, and we have to decide which will be her given name, if she’ll have a nickname … and you should tell me if you want her Korean name to be similar to Seoyoung’s. Miyoung is a pretty name, if you like it.”

There was something wrong. There was something visibly wrong with the way Sehun was all locked up, looking a little overwrought in the eyes.

Slowly Luhan said, “If you don’t like Miyoung we don’t have to consider it. And if you don’t want our baby to have a name similar to Seoyoung’s then--”

“We’re not,” Sehun said sharply, almost startling Luhna, “giving her a name before she’s born.”

Luhan frowned. “We should have already picked out a name for her. Family members need to know before the shower and birth. I want to have a Buddhist priest bless her, and I want to have a few charms made for her before she’s born. She’ll need a name for most of that.”

“No,” Sehun snapped once more. “No names. Not until she’s born.”

There was a fight coming, and Luhan could already tell it was going to be a costly one. It was the first severe one they were going to have over their daughter.

“I’m deciding on a name for her,” Luhan grit out between his teeth. “A Chinese name for sure, and if you don’t want to participate, I’ll pick a Korean one, too.”

Sehun’s eyes were narrowed into angry silts. “You’re not giving her any kind of name. I won’t let you.”

Luhan climbed to his feet. “Excuse me? What makes you think I need your permission for anything?”

“No names.”

“This is about Seoyoung,” Luhan guessed, and he was certain he was right when Sehun launched up to his feet like a rocket. “This is something to do with her and you’re letting that fear bleed over into our daughter. Why?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Sehun ground out. “Just respect my wishes.”

“Not without an explanation,” Luhan shot back. “It’s just a name. I want to know why it’s such a sore spot for you. Does giving our daughter a name make her too real for you?”

With a harsh laugh Sehun said, “I can feel her move. I know what she looks like. Trust me, she’s very real.”

“Then what is the problem?” Luhan hated how much he sounded like he was pleading with Sehun. “Why can’t she have a name?”

With a rough hand jerking through his hair, Sehun said, “She can have a name! Stop twisting my words. Of course she can have a name, and it can be whatever you want it to be. But not until she’s born. She can’t have one right now.”

“She’s my daughter and I want her to have one.”

Sehun was only getting redder in the face as his breathing picked up. “Don’t you dare--”

“Don’t you try and stop me,” Luhan was quick to respond. With a stressed tone, he asked, “Is this going to be a regular thing, Sehun? Are you going to have these episodes and not explain yourself?”

“Why are you pretending like you didn’t know I was messed up!” Sehun shouted back, and their voices were loud and out of control then.

The pain in Sehun’s voice was murder to Luhan’s heart. “I know you’re not perfect,” Luhan corrected. “But you’re not messed up. You’re suffering from what a doctor would likely diagnose you as having post-traumatic stress disorder, if you bothered to go see one. And I’m not angry at you that you’re reacting like this. I’m angry you won’t tell me why!”

“Because it’s none of your business,” Sehund strained to shout at him, voice going in and out.

Carefully, Luhan asked, “Will it be my business the first time our daughter asks you something she doesn’t know not to? What happens when you start screaming at her and she can’t understand what’s going on?”

Sehun hissed at him, “I would never!”

“Because you’re in perfect control of yourself?” Luhan wondered. “I don’t think you’d do it on purpose, but there’s still so much anger and sadness in you. It’s still in you no matter how far down you push it and pretend like it isn’t there. I don’t want you to hurt our daughter and not even realize it’s happening until it’s too late.”

Visibly shaking Sehun asked him lowly, “How dare you insinuate I would hurt our baby.”

Luhan pursed his lips for a moment, then offered, “Words hurt just as badly as fists, to a child who adores their father, Sehun. I know this truth intimately. So think about what you’re asking, and how I’m only just asking for the truth.”

“We had an agreement,” Sehun said a bit sullenly. “You agreed to it.”

“I’m not asking for me,” Luhan replied. “I’m asking for you to explain yourself on behalf of our daughter. This has nothing to do with my curiosity. Because if it did, I’d be asking all kinds of questions.”

Sehun rolled his eyes. “Like what?”

“Like why your baby’s nursery is in a million pieces!”

The nursery terrified Luhan. He could imagine what it had looked like at one point, full of lovely shades of yellow, soft blankets, fuzzy stuffed animals, and baby books that Sehun would have planned to read to his daughter even before she could speak. And now it was ruble. It was a room full of broken wood, scratched paint, destroyed objects and rage that still lingered in the air.

And while there was no confirmation, Luhan suspected it was Sehun who’d destroyed the room. Had it just been a single burst of anger over Sehun losing his family? Or was it indicative of something more worrying? Luhan was learning more about Sehun every day, but there was still so much a mystery.

“That is none of your business either!”

Luhan found himself shouting back, “Then tell me why all your friends, and you, always freak out when I tell you I’m going to walk somewhere! Even back when Baekhyun hated my guts, he still wouldn’t let me walk to the bus stop.”

With a shout of anger, Sehun turned and kicked a nearby lounge chair. “I can’t believe you’re dragging us through the mud like this, Luhan.”

“That’s what this is? Your past is the mud?”

“My past is the past,” Sehun said, short of breath. “You wanted to be my future, so why can’t you just be happy with what I’m giving you?”

Luhan shook his head, heading directly to the nearby closet where his jacket hung. He asked over his shoulder, “I’m supposed to be happy with half-truths and untruths? I’m an adult, Sehun. I know how to handle you when you’re like this, but our daughter won’t. Not for a long time. I want her to know Seoyoung was her sister. I don’t want to hide Jae from her when she’s old enough to understand. But I get the feeling we don’t want the same things. And if that’s the case … I don’t know if I can do this.”

He was just pulling on his jacket when Sehun asked fearfully, “What are you talking about?”

“I have all these feelings for you,” Luhan said, gesturing between them. “They’re scary feelings, but also wonderful. They’re feelings I’m not ashamed of or wish I didn’t have. But they don’t even come close to measuring up to how I feel about my daughter. I will always put her before you, Sehun, and that includes her safety before your wants.”

“Where the hell are you going?” Sehun demanded as Luhan headed towards the front door. “Luhan!”

“I want us to be a family,” Luhan said, pulling the door open as Sehun sprinted to his side. “I want to love you and be loved in return, and I want us all to be happy. But there can’t be secrets like these between us, Sehun, and you can’t be so angry if I’m going to feel safe.”

“Luhan,” Sehun moaned out desperately, all the fight seemingly fleeing his body.

“I will never withhold your daughter from you,” Luhan said, feeling as if part of him was breaking apart with every word he spoke. “You are her father. You have rights and you are a good man. But maybe we need to take a break. You need to do some thinking and so do I.”

“Luhan!” Sehun called after him as Sehun descended the few steps to the bottom stoop. “It’s nine at night. Where are you going? How are you going to get home?”

Luhan pointed down the street. “There’s a bus stop just down there. I’ll walk to the stop and take the bus home.” Luhan paused, then asked, “Unless you’d like to tell me why you look like you might pass out from that idea.”

“I’ll drive you,” Sehun urged. “You can hate me all you want, but just let me drive you.”

Slowly Luhan shook his head. “I’m going to walk, Sehun. I told you, I need to think some things over and figure others out.”

“Luhan,” Sehun said quietly. “Please. Come back and talk.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Luhan asked. “I know you mean well, Sehun. I know you’re a good person. But I need more than a negotiation of topics not to broach. I need answers that I’m just not sure you’re willing or able to give. Do you understand?”

As Luhan made his way off Sehun’s property, hoping Sehun didn’t come after him, Luhan felt as if he’d just served up an impossible ultimatum to Sehun.

Luhan had always been the first person to defend how closely Sehun had kept matters of his heart protected, and how he’d hidden away his past and twisted it into secrets. Luhan understood that some things Sehun had the right to keep buried away, and it really had only been a little over a half year since Sehun’s life had changed completely.

But enough felt like enough. Luhan had a baby to consider now, and even his own feelings for Sehun.

He loved Sehun. He could no more deny that now than stop breathing. He was falling in love with the complex man who’d been both so combative in the beginning, but so earnest and full of effort towards the end.

It just wasn’t enough.

But as painful as Sehun’s secrets had to be for him, Luhan thought he had a right know. He had a right to understand. He wasn’t just some stranger, and he was no longer an interloper. He was carrying Sehun’s child. He was the person Sehun claimed to love. Luhan didn’t think they could start to seriously build their future without the both of them being on equal footing, and that meant Luhan knowing the extent to Sehun’s past.

The bus came quickly after Luhan reached the stop. But it wasn’t until Luhan was climbing the stairs up the bus a bit awkwardly, his bus pass in hand, that he caught sight of Sehun’s form lurking a bit away. He wasn’t close in the least bit, and mostly hidden by the shadows of the night, but Luhan knew it was him.

Luhan took a seat at the window and turned to look at Sehun. Even with the space between them Luhan could see how worried he looked, anxiety bleeding from his body.

The bus rumbled, then jerked, and only then did Luhan see Sehun take a step back, turning to go home.

Why had Sehun followed him all the way to the bus stop? What kind of danger did Sehun think he was in from such a short journey?

He forced himself not to think about it. There was no use in thinking about Sehun at all. Luhan had said what had been building in him for some time, and he didn’t want to take back any of it. He needed to know about Sehun’s past to have a future, and he wouldn’t compromise anymore. He wouldn’t be patient. He wouldn’t wait.

“Luhan?” Kris asked when Luhan came stumbling his way into the coffee shop. His exhaustion must have been too easy to read on his face. “You look … is something wrong?”

Luhan shook his head. Kris didn’t need any of his problems. “I thought you were with your parents.”

“You know my parents,” Kris said, a disinterested look on his face. “We weren’t out for five minutes before the business calls started coming in. I left about half an hour after the shouting started.”

Luhan sat across from Kris, trying not to salivate over the man’s sugary coffee drink. “The acquisition not going well?” The most Luhan understood about Kris’s parents was that they were attempting to become the new Starbucks. They had half a dozen coffee shops in Seoul, a couple in Busan, and were looking at Canada next for their long term goals. It occurred to Luhan that Kris hadn’t needed to work hard in school to get into a good college, or even start at the bottom of the totem pole after getting hired at the law firm. Money bought power and influence, and Kris certainly had mony. But Kris wasn’t like that, and it was what Luhan admired most about him.

“I don’t know,” Kris sighed out. “I don’t care. Now, what’s with that look on your face?”

Luhan forced himself to smile. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Of course,” Kris chuckled, “you’re an old man now. Maybe you should head up to bed.”

“Any chance of getting an elevator put in?” Luhan asked, rubbing a hand at the small of his back.

Seriousness overtook Kirs’s face. “What’s wrong with the stairs?”

“Nothing.” With one last longing look at the coffee drink, Luhan stood and patted Kris’s arm. “I’ll call you later. Goodnight.”

Getting to the third floor took an embarrassing amount of time. But eventually he was in his bed, the window pushed open for air, and his thoughts melting away as sleep overcame him.

Tomorrow, he reasoned, tomorrow would be better. It certainly couldn’t be any worse than how things already were.

Chapter Text

They were back to communicating through e-mail and it felt like such a regression.

Before that, there had been two, tense, almost irrevocably heinous days of silence.

When the movers had shown up the day after the fight, and Suho and the others in tow, it must have shown on his face how terrible the thought his life with Luhan had just gone.

“Tell me,” Suho had requested lowly, sending the others to oversee the last of the packing, the moving truck already parked out front.

“It’s nothing,” Sehun had said, then made a tactical retreat to the only place he thought Suho dared not follow him. The only place left completely untouched from the move.

It was quiet in the nursery, and dark with the curtains pulled. Sehun leaned back against the door and slid down it to the ground, tucking his legs against his body. He wasn’t sure what to tell Suho. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to do.

But more than likely Luhan had just walked out of his life, and taken the baby with him.

“Sehun,” Suho’s muffled voice said from the other side of the room. “You …”

Sehun dragged in a ragged breath. With his hands on his knees he silently prayed that Suho would just go away. Sehun didn’t think he’d attempt to enter the nursery, but he might stand outside all day, badgering Sehun.

Even though the room was dark, the day was close to the noon hour, and that meant beams of sunlight were creeping in through the creases of the curtains.

The room’s contents were clear to see, maybe now more than they had ever been, and Sehun knew what Luhan must have thought about him. What he had to still be thinking. For all intents and purposes, the room made Sehun look like a violent monster, and maybe that’s what he was.

“You take the time you need in there,” Suho said finally. “Make sure … make sure there’s nothing you want to take with you. You have to turn the keys in at the end of the day to the realtor. I’ll make sure everyone stays on track downstairs.”

“Fine,” he managed to grunt out.

He stretched out a leg and a shoe nudged one of the dresser drawers he’d pulled out so long ago. The paint was chipped, the sides frayed, and it looked properly abused.

Sehun was a little ashamed. No, he was a lot. For the first time, his childish and anger driven behavior was something shameful to him. Because he’d given every indication to Luhan that he was unstable. He’d shown that there was a chance he couldn’t be trusted with their baby.

God help him if he ever lost his temper with her over anything unwarranted, or hurt her without realizing it.

Luhan was being responsible and a good father by taking their baby far, far away.

Sehun had known from the start he never deserved them.

He watched the time pass by the sun that snuck into the room. As it moved, different pieces of his anger were illuminated, from the dirtied carpet, to the ruined books and toys, and eventually to the scattering of ribbons littered around.

Sehun reached for one.

He felt the soft, smooth satin material between his fingers, found the lilac coloring of it soothing, and trying to imagine for one second had his baby would have looked like wearing the ribbon.

She’d have been born with tiny tuffs of dark hair. That much was certain. Sehun’s own hair was manageable, but Jae’s had been something with a mind of its own. He’d often tried to smooth it down, hold it in place with hair spray, and even once colored it. And their daughter, Seoyoung, would have had the same hair.

What would his daughter’s hair with Luhan, look like? Would it be black like the night sky, or a more warm, brown color? Would there be a lot of it when she was born, or would Sehun jokingly ask Luhan if they’d gotten it wrong, and if their bald baby was a boy instead?

There was no point in imagining that now. He wasn’t going to be there for the birth. He wasn’t going to be there for the months afterwards, or maybe even the years. How could Luhan risk putting him near their baby? He couldn’t when Sehun was still like this.

“Sehun?”

A knock sounded heavily against the door, but the handle didn’t turn, and only then did Sehun realize he was kneeling over the cluster of ribbons, reds and yellows and blue and greens in his hands.

“The movers have taken the furniture over to the new house,” Suho related. “Baekhyun and Chanyeol went with them to make sure it gets delivered properly. Do you want to come down stairs for some lunch? Chanyeol prepared it before he left so you know it’s good.”

“I’m,” Sehun choked out, “I’m busy.”

Quieter this time, Suho asked, “You had a fight with Luhan, didn’t you? That’s why he’s not here.”

Was it all so transparent?

Sehun stood slowly, the ribbons dropping from his fingers.

And then, as if he couldn’t control his own body, he reached for the door.

Suho was in the habit of nearly always looking worried over something. His job was stressful, his family hadn’t been the same since Jae died, and it was utterly unfair that he had to keep worrying over Sehun. Suho deserved a beak, and Sehun only felt this more when he opened the door and saw how Suho was looking back at him.

“Sehun?”

Sehun gestured to the room around him. “Luhan saw the nursery. He had questions. Lots of questions.”

“You didn’t know that was coming?” Suho asked softly.

“He wants to know about Jae. He wants to know why I’m so angry and why I can’t let go of the pain. He thinks I might hurt him, or even the baby accidentally if either one of them says the wrong thing.”

“Oh,” Suho said, then he was stepping into the room and wrapping Sehun up into a tight hug. “You couldn’t give him what he wanted, could you?”

Suho’s arms felt so secure and warm around him Sehun had almost forgotten what it was like to be comforted by someone he trusted.

He admitted, “I don’t know if I can. But I’m going to lose him and the baby if I don’t.”

Pulling him to arm’s length, Suho asked, “You think he doesn’t deserve to know? You don’t think your burden will be a little lighter if you tell him what happened that day?”

“You want me to tell him I …” Sehun shook his head quickly. “I guess this was inevitable. Come on, Suho, we both knew I never really deserved this second chance.”

“Hey.” Suho smacked him over the back of the head and it wasn’t gentle. “You don’t get to make that judgment call.” He gave Sehun one last, precious hug, then asked, “Luhan said he’s done with you if you don’t tell him everything?”

“He didn’t say it like that,” Sehun said. He could so clearly remember the fight. He’d been so mad and felt so betrayed, but Luhan’s words had wrung true in his ears. “He just said he didn’t know if we could have a future without the truth. Suho, it’s not that I think he’ll try to raise the baby without me if I don’t tell him. I’m just terrified that he’ll look at me and see a monster, if he knows the truth.”

“Sehun,” Suho said, his fingers gentle and loving as they scratched up into Sehun’s hair. “He won’t be afraid of you.”

Sehun insisted, “He’ll be afraid if I tell him the truth. He just doesn’t know it.”

“Am I mad at you?” Suho demanded. “Have I ever leveled any accusations at you, or let anyone point a finger at you? Tell me one moment over the past seven months that I have let someone say that anything was your fault.”

“Never,” Sehun had to say. He’d never been able to lie to Suho. Suho always felt too much like his own older brother, and not Jae’s.

“Luhan loves you,” Suho said with a smile. “I could tell that before he even told you, mostly by the way he smiled at you and tried so hard with you. He wants to have a future with you Sehun, and I know you want one with him. You were always going to have to tell him what happened if you expected that envisioned future to be a reality. Luhan is so amazing, Sehun. Do you know that?”

Oh, he knew it.

Suho continued on, “Anyone else would want you to put Jae to the back of your mind and never bring him up again. Someone less honorable would expect you to ignore what you had before, and maybe even pretend it never existed. But Luhan is a better person than I think all of us give him credit for sometimes. He understands that Jae is so much a part of who you are, and he doesn’t want you to lose that. This isn’t just about him getting answers, it’s about you getting closure. He wants you to be his family, but he also wants to acknowledge that you had a life before him, no matter how it turned out. You can’t begrudge him that, no matter how much it hurts you.”

“It hurts a lot,” Sehun said, his forehead coming to rest on Suho’s shoulder.

“The hurt has to come first,” Suho said, his hand on Sehn’s back, “before the healing can then follow. That’s how it always works in these situations, Sehun. That’s how you know you’re recovering.”

His anger was driving Luhan away. His pain and his secrets were sabotaging his future.

He had to do something.

“Here.” Suho knelt and selected a pale pink ribbon. He pressed it into the palm of Sehun’s hand and closed his fingers around it. “Tell Luhan what he wants to know. Give him his answers, tell him about Jae and how he died. Then let go of your guilt and have the future you want. If you don’t, it’ll be the thing you regret most in your life from this point on.”

That night Suho’s words filled up his heart, overtook his thoughts, and then sitting alone in his new house, he thought of how little he wanted a lonely future. He didn’t want a sad one, either, or an angry one. He wanted Luhan’s smiling face every morning, their haphazard attempt to make food together, and he wanted them to fight one day over who was going to take their daughter to school on what day. He wanted to braid his daughter’s hair in a way that she thought was absolutely perfect, and he wanted Luhan to hold his hand the first time she was ready to walk to school without them. He wanted to watch his baby grow up and become a beautiful young woman.

He wanted to grow old with Luhan.

His mind was made up from that moment on.

But no matter how he tried, Luhan was avoiding him. He wasn’t taking Sehun’s calls, either wasn’t home or wouldn’t open the door for him when he drove over, and refused to even open the messages he sent him. At least initially.

Only after two days came the e-mail emails, and then a doctor’s appointment reminder.

Sehun had forgotten. Their 3D ultrasound.

“Can I pick you up at nine?” he typed out to Luhan, waiting almost with baited breath for the reply.

The return message had said simply, “Xiumin will drop me off and pick me up. If you don’t want to come, he’ll be there for me instead.”

Pinching down the anger, Sehun had forced himself to type back, “Please let me pick you up. We need to talk afterwards.”

The reply hadn’t come for almost an hour afterwards. Sehun had started to suspect that it wasn’t going to come at all until his inbox was tweeting at him.

“Okay.”

Sehun collapsed onto a nearby chair and felt so relieved he could cry.

The next morning he was parked in front of Luhan’s apartment at eight-thirty, palms sweaty as he waited for Luhan to make his appearance. His coffee was growing cold in the cup holder but it was unimportant.

He couldn’t stop thinking about where he was going to take Luhan after the ultrasound.

He was going to reveal the simple street corner that had robbed Sehun of everything.

“You’re early,” Luhan said, sliding into the car five minutes later.

Part of Sehun had never thought Luhan would talk to him again, so hearing his voice was music to the ears. “You didn’t have to come down so quickly.”

“I didn’t want to make you wait,” Luhan said quietly. “And I’ve been up since three. The baby’s getting even more restless. She doesn’t like how cramped things are getting.”

Sehun started the car and merged carefully into traffic. “Thanks for letting me take you.”

After some time, Luhan said, “I guess it’s more practical.”

The words cut into Sehun painfully.

“I had some time to think about what you said,” Sehun told him by the time they were coming up on the hospital. In reality, he’d had too much time. “Suho helped.”

A smile nudged the corners of Luhan’s lips. “Suho is very helpful.”

“I think he knows me better than I know me,” Sehun admitted. “He knows a lot of people better than they know themselves. I’ve always told him he missed his calling. He could have had his own psychiatric practice by now.”

As the car rolled into a parking spot near the front of the doctor’s office, Luhan said, “I can’t help feeling the way I do. I can’t help fearing what our future is if I don’t know your past. But I was wrong to demand so much of you all at once. I don’t want you to think you should give me everything I want. I won’t ever take your baby from you, Sehun. I’ll say that a million times. I won’t ever deny you your rights because of what I’m feeling. If you think you have to do this so I’ll let you see her when she’s born, you’re wrong.”

“Do what?” Sehun questioned. “Say the words I’ve been too afraid to say to myself?”

“No,” Luhan said with a shake to his head. “I mean you don’t have to let me bully you into this. It’s not right. I know that.”

Sehun threw aside his seatbelt and got out of the car. He rounded to Luhan’s side and then offered him a hand up. “You’re not bullying me,” Sehun said, and he didn’t think his personality was one that would have allowed for that sort of thing from the start. “I’m making the choice that I never had to make before--one that I didn’t allow myself to make. Now come on. We’re going to be late for your appointment.”

Luhan slid his fingers into Sehun’s and let himself be pulled to his feet. “Okay.”

“Nice to see the two of you,” Luhan’s doctor greeted. She had a smirk on her face and Sehun wished she’d stop looking so smug about how he’d reacted to finding out who she was.

“Yes, get it all out,” Sehun said a bit gruffly, sitting next to Luhan near the examination table. “And could you tell me how long you plan to milk this for?”

Eunji slid her rolling chair to Luhan’s side and fired up a version of the ultrasound machine Sehun had never seen before. She responded, “Until the wedding next year for sure.”

Sehun pinched his brow. “Wonderful.”

Luhan snapped Sehun to attention by asking, “This is safe now, right? I’ve been reading some things on the internet. There’s been a lot of contention about how healthy these ultrasounds are for the baby before its born.”

Fear was his primary emotion all of the sudden as Sehun demanded, “Is this not safe? Luhan, what did you read?”

“Calm down,” Eunji urged, and she didn’t look for a second to be making any more moves to continue with the machine until she explained. “The truth is, up until a couple of years ago I would have advised against a 3D ultrasound. There’s been some risk associated with these types of ultrasounds in the past. Until last year the FDA in America, the organization we take our cues from in this department, hadn’t cleared both 3D and 4D ultrasounds for elective purposes like you’re getting today. But there have been some recent advancements in the technology.”

“It’s not going to hurt the baby?” Luhan asked. “You’re sure?”

Sehun felt relieved when the doctor replied, “I wouldn’t be letting you get this done if I thought it was a danger. Additionally, there are some advantages to this. I’ve got quite a bit of experience giving these and I’m certain I’ll be able to check if there are any fetal anomalies that a regular ultrasound won’t be able to pick up, particularly in the heart and lung region.”

Sehun couldn’t help reaching out for her. “Does our baby have a risk of that?”

“Not in the least bit,” she replied to him, the comforting smile back on her face like normal. “But it never hurts to check, and if I can catch anything now, we can be ready for it when the baby is delivered.”

“Sehun.” Luhan held out his hand for him. “Let her get started. Stop worrying. We trust her as our doctor, right?”

“Right,” Sehun said shakily, squeezing his hand. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Seeing his baby in a two-dimensional feature and getting her profile had been something amazing. But the 3D picture? Being able to see his baby from the front, to be able to determine what she was going to look like with startling clarity … to actually see her features, as if he were holding her arms, with earth shaking.

“She’s so beautiful,” Luhan choked out, tears dripping down onto his cheeks.

“She looks just like you,” Sehun said, bending over him and brushing away the tears with his thumbs. “She’s gorgeous and god, I can’t believe we’re seeing this.”

“I’m getting it all,” Eunji promised. “You’ll get to take this recording home and watch it as often as you want.”

Sehun couldn’t help stealing a kiss from Luhan, ignoring their earlier fight or the tension between them. He kissed Luhan deeply and almost endless until his own tears were sprinkling down onto Luhan’s skin. He murmured, “I love you so much.” He meant it more than he’d ever meant it before.

The time flew by far too quickly for Sehun. It felt like mere seconds that he got to watch his daughter fidget around, revealing the spacing of her eyes, the curve of her forehead, and all ten of her perfect fingers.

“She’s sucking her thumb!” Luhan remarked at one point, his eyes wet again with tears. “Do you see that Sehun?”

Sehun palmed at his face when a new batch of tears began falling. “I see. I’ll be damned if she doesn’t know we’re watching. She’s giving it her all.”

However, just after that Eunji shut off the machine and said, “That’s it, gentlemen.”

“Wait,” Luhan protested.

Sehun was right there with him, asking, “Can’t we get just a few more minutes?”

The doctor shook her head a bit regretfully. “The FDA regulates that twenty minutes is the limitation before there’s the chance of risking the fetus.”

“Oh,” Sehun said. “But we can come back for another one?”

Luhan sat up with some effort with Sehun’s help. “Next visit.”

“We can try,” the doctor said patiently. “You’re pretty far into your pregnancy, which means it’s harder to get a clear picture, ironically enough, but we can try.”

They left that visit with extra precautions for Luhan as his eight month was just around the corner, a refilled prescription for Luhan’s blood sugar medication, and two recordings of their baby.

Sehun couldn’t wait to take his copy home and put it up on the big tv. He was already planning on calling all his friends over and making an event of it. Was that a bit ridiculous? Sehun didn’t care.

It wasn’t until they were back at the car that Sehun realized what came next. The hard part.

Apparently, Luhan did too, because he repeated, “We don’t have to do this today. The fact that you wanted to open up to me is enough for today.”

Without responding Sehun gripped the steering wheel tightly and said, “I’m going to show you something and tell you something. Are you willing to listen?”

Luhan buckled is seat belt. “I am.”

It was the first time he was going back to the street where it had happened. At least not since the day of the funeral when he’d wandered over there by accident, almost as if going there would bring him closer to the husband of his who was dead and cold.

“This is it,” Sehun said when they were there. He parked across the street and pointed.

“What about it?” Luhan asked, leaning across the center consul to see better. “What am I looking at it.”

“I’m doing this out of order,” Sehun realized with a frustrating huff.

“Then start at the beginning?”

It just wasn’t that simple, even if Sehun wished it was.

“Jae and I …” he tried to say, getting choked up already. “We found out we were having a girl pretty early. We wanted to know as soon as possible and we were able to find out when he was barely out of his first trimester. It’s usually much later.”

That was one memory seared into his mind. He’d held Jae’s hand like he had Luhan’s earlier, and he’d cried then to. He’d reached out and touched the screen and thought that he was the luckiest man in the world.

“But we fought about what to name her forever.”

Sehun hear Luhan breathe in sharply as he realized which of his questions were going to be answered first.

“Jae and I just couldn’t settle. We couldn’t even compromise on a nickname. Jae and I weren’t the type to fight on anything, either. We got along in a scary kind of way, or maybe I just liked giving in and seeing him smile. The point is, it was the only thing we really fought over during his pregnancy.”

With some hesitation Luhan asked, “How did you settle on Seoyoung?”

Sehun shook his head. “Honestly, Baekhyun. That smarmy bastard. I wanted Seo in her name after my grandmother, and Jae was pulling for something with Young because it’s sort of a tradition with the girls in his family. Baekhyun just started calling her Seoyoung because he was tired of hearing us argue about it. It was irritating at first, then it grew on us. Baekhyun didn’t let us forget for that full week. He’d remind us at every possible moment.”

Luhan frowned. “Just for a week? That seems pretty conservative for Baekhyun.”

Feeling like he might throw up, Sehun folded over himself and leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. “It was only a week because Jae and Seoyoung died a week after she got her name.”

With a gentle hand on Sehun’s sleeve, Luhan asked, “Is that why you don’t want to name our baby?”

“It sounds stupid to say it out loud,” Sehun said, and he was crying for the umpteenth time in an hour, though these weren’t tears of joy. “It sounds so stupid to say it out loud, but Jae and the baby were perfectly fine for eight months. Nothing happened until the baby had a name and I refuse to let that happen to you. I won’t let that happen to you or our baby.”

“Having a name didn’t cause the accident,” Luhan offered. “Part of you has to know that.”

“The rational side,” Sehun snapped. “But I’m not exactly rational right now, am I?”

How could it not mean something that his baby had been perfectly fine until she’d had a name and an identity?

“Why are we here, Sehun? What’s the significance of this street?”

Blinking through his tears, Sehun looked back to the street. “That’s where they died.”

The hand that had been resting on his sleeve was then clinging to him.

“Jae’s family is kind of spread out everywhere,” Sehun said, but each word was getting more difficult than the next. “He’s got them everywhere in Seoul, all of North America, and even some in Europe. And they’re pretty traditional. We knew we had to send out birth announcements, and if anyone was neglected we’d be hearing about it for months. So we had these pretty yellow cards made. They were perfect. Then Seoyoung got her name and they were worthless. Jae knew his relatives would complain about the announcement cards if they didn’t have her name on them, and it wasn’t like we could stop the name from getting out.” Sehun pointed just off to the side. “Jae worked down at that elementary school. And here, this is the shop we had the cards done at.”

“Walking distance,” Luhan said, his voice pitchy.

“I told him we had to get them done by that Friday. We had to get them sent out. I was always complaining about Jae’s relatives, and I was irritated that we had to get a whole new set of announcement cards made. Jae was just trying to help out and be thoughtful. He knew he was going to visit his friends who were teachers at the elementary school on the day he died. He told me he’d just walk to the shop if I couldn’t get away from work.”

The weight of Luhan’s head on his shoulder was unexpected by not unwanted like he’d thought any closeness might feel.

Shutting his eyes from the sight of the shop, Sehun said, “I could have left work. I could have gotten away. I was just irritated. I was annoyed. I didn’t want to deal with the ordeal anymore. I lied and told Jae that I couldn’t leave work so he walked. Someone hit him when he was crossing the street.”

“I’m so sorry,” Luhan said, breath warm against Sehun’s sleeve.

His steady tears turned into a downpour of a storm and Sehun all but latched onto Luhan, sobbing against him with grief that still felt so fresh.

He still didn’t understand why Suho and the others didn’t blame him. It was his fault. It was all his fault. All he’d had to do was suck it up and deal with the announcements for one more day and everything would have been fine. If he hadn’t lied to Jae, if he’d driven him, if Jae hadn’t walked, he wouldn’t have been in the crosswalk. He wouldn’t have been hit by the car. He wouldn’t have had to lay there on the asphalt, feeling their baby slip away from them, knowing that he wouldn’t ever get to hold her or tell her how much she was loved.

“I’ve got you,” Luhan whispered into his ear, stroking his back, letting him cry and cry until he couldn’t physically manage it anymore.

“It wasn’t even …” Sehun had to stop and catch his breath. He couldn’t breathe. “It wasn’t even the driver’s fault, either. He was driving west. The glare of the sun was impossible. It dulled the coloring of the lights, made it impossible for him to see Jae who had the right of way, and cause him to think he was okay to go when he should have stopped. It wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t deliberate. It was an accident.”

Luhan’s hand didn’t stop for a second. He held Sehun like Suho had days ago, only better, because Luhan’s hold was less strong and more loving. It made Sehun feel like he could stay within the protective circle of those arms for as long as he wanted and he would be welcomed for every second of his stay.

“What happened to the driver?” Luhan prompted.

“He died,” Sehun said, tucking his face into the crook of Luhan’s shoulder. “He hit Jae and then he hit a streetlight. Three people died that day. Sook Chansoo. That was his name. He had a wife and three kids and they lost him just as much as I lost Jae and Seoyoung.”

Tightening his grip on Sehun, Luhan said, “That was not your fault.”

With a hoarse laugh, Sehun denied, “Of course it was. I should have just let Jae name the baby whatever he wanted. We were going to have more. I could have picked the next name. I shouldn’t have made such a big fuss about Jae’s family, not after they supported us for so long, helped us buy that house, and accepted me without hesitation. But more than that, Luhan, and don’t you dare tell me otherwise, I should have driven him.”

With his fingers idly scratching Sehun’s scalp, Luhan wondered, “Is this why you and the others don’t like me walking anywhere?”

Sehun sniffed, needing to blow his nose badly. “I have nightmares all the time. I have them every time I close my eyes. They’re usually Jae crossing the street, the impact of his body against the car and how he must have suffered before he died. But sometimes, and more frequently, they’re you. Sometimes it’s you crossing the street and it’s you who dies. Every time you walk somewhere, it can be you.”

Luhan suddenly crushed him so tightly into a hug that Sehun almost ached. “What happened to Jae was an accident. It was not your fault. It was just the series of horrible and sad, but ultimately coincidental events that resulted in his death and Seoyoung’s. You can’t control fate, Sehun, and you can’t control when, how or why bad things happen to good people. Do you know that? Do you understand that we live in a world where shitty, unfair things happen, and there’s nothing we can do about it?”

“Suho keeps telling me to let go of the guilt. He keeps saying he doesn’t blame me. But it doesn’t matter. I blame me. I know it’s my fault. I know I killed my family. That’s why I destroyed the nursery. That’s why I don’t want to talk about them. That’s why I hate myself.”

“Hey, jerk,” Luhan chided, hitting the back of Sehun’s head gently. “You don’t talk about the man I love like that. You don’t talk about the father of my child like that.”

For the first time since he’d started sobbing, Sehun managed to pull back from Luhan’s enfolding hug. His vision was blurring Luhan’s beautiful face, but he could make out the anguish on it.

“I’m responsible for the deaths of my family, Luhan,” Sehun stuttered out. “You should hate me. You should be afraid of me. You should--”

“I love you,” Luhan said, his fingers calmly at the pulse of Sehun’s throat. “I love you very much and I am not scared of you. I can’t make you not blame yourself, but I certainly don’t. I was stupid to say that I thought you might hurt our baby. You’d never hurt her. You love her so much.”

“I do,” Sehun insisted, his face felling puffy and probably looking horrible. “I love her and I’m so afraid to hurt her.”

With much more strength than Sehun was used to from Luhan, the man took Sehun’s hand forcefully put his on his stomach. “This is your daughter, right?” he demanded. Then he continued. “You love her? You’d die to protect her? She is your life from this moment on?”

Sehun nodded so hard he nearly hurt himself.

Luhan leaned over and kissed him gently, and it felt like silk on his lips. “Then do right by Seoyoung and Jae by taking care of her. Honor them, remember them, keep their memory alive, and pass along how much you loved them to our daughter. That’s how you make amends. Do you understand? Honor them by loving her.”

Sehun kissed him back fiercely, almost desperately, needing to feel Luhan and know he was there, alive.

“I love you,” Sehun vowed back to him. “I love you so much.”

“We’re going to be okay,” Luhan promised him, placing his hand over Sehun’s. “Me, you, and this baby. We’re stronger than you seem to think. You had to endure hardships that would have destroyed a weaker man, but that’s not going to happen again. You paid your due, Sehun. You get to have a happy, fulfilling future now. No more sadness. No more guilt, okay?”

There were no more tears left to fall, but if there had been, Sehun had no doubt he’d have shed them.

“I have never thought I deserved a second chance,” Sehun confessed. “I’ve never thought I deserved you or this baby.”

Once more Luhan tapped him on the head. “What did I tell you about talking about the man I love?”

“I get it,” Sehun said weakly. “Only optimism from this point on.”

Settling back into place in his seat, Luhan asked, “Does Jae have a memorial? A burial spot?”

Sehun cleared his throat, trying to regain some of his confidence. “He’s buried about an hour outside of Seoul where his family owns a plot of land. It’s where Jae used to go to spend his summers as a kid. It was his favorite place in the world when he was young. It’s where he would have wanted to be buried, even if it’s not the most accessible spot.” He gave Luhan a questioning look. “Why?”

Luhan smiled faintly. “I want to pay my respects to him one day. Not today. Not even tomorrow. But one day I want to go out there with you and pay my respects. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Sehun said, surprised at how much he actually liked the idea. “We could take the baby up there too. When she’s old enough.”

Sehun reached to start the car but paused when Luhan said suddenly, “You’re braver than you know you are.”

“Brave?” Sehun asked skeptically. His vision had cleared somewhat, at least enough to drive.

“Brave,” Luhan repeated. “And you continue to amaze me with it.”

If Luhan wanted to think he was brave, Sehun supposed there were worse things to think. He guessed it was something he’d just have to learn to accept.

“Want to go to your new house and watch our baby on a huge television?” Luhan asked, holding up the thin slip case of the DVD.

Sehun felt his heart lift. “Want to do that and make all our friends come over and watch it with us?”

Before Sehun could pull out into traffic, Luhan dashed in for a quick kiss to his cheek. “How about it’s just me, you, and baby for a while?”

“Yeah,” Sehun said, sucking in a lungful of air. “That sound even better.”

Chapter Text

Initially Luhan had put up a fuss about a baby shower. He wasn’t a girl, he didn’t care about playing games, and he’d gotten all the baby items already that he could possibly need. He was all for celebrating the baby once she’d been born, but before? It seemed like a waste of time and energy.

Of course the shower he attended thrown by Sehun’s mother had been obligatory. There were some things, Luhan was starting to understand, that were merely things to endure. Especially if he wanted to please Sehun’s family … and strangely enough, he really did. Sehun’s mother caring so much about his baby was a little frightening at first, but endlessly appreciated now. If he needed her for anything, he knew she’d be there, and the rest of Sehun’s family as well.

And truth be told, the shower hadn’t been that bad. It had been a limited family affair, not like the last time Sehun had taken him to his mother’s house. This time only the most immediate family was in attendance, compromised of Sehun’s mother, sisters, grandparents and surprisingly enough, Sehun’s father.

Luhan had started to think of the man as a ghost. Sehun claimed he held no animosity towards the man, and spoke with him occasionally, but there was obvious distance there.

Still, when Luhan had come through the front door he’d recognized Sehun’s father immediately from photos he’d seen previously.

Sehun had whispered to him later, “I can’t believe my mom let him through the front door. I can’t believe my grandmother hasn’t murdered him yet.”

Even more unbelievable was how well the entire event had gone, with it feeling more like a casual meeting of family with food, some gift giving, and nothing having to do with guessing the circumference of his stomach or playing pin the diaper on the baby like Luhan knew his friends would want to play.

It was almost enough to get Luhan a bit more settled with the idea of having a real baby shower shortly after. All of Sehun’s friends were set to be in attendance, including D.O. who was back from England, and who Luhan was not familiar with. And so would all of Luhan’s friends be there. It was set to be the ultimate mixer: loud, abrasive, and potentially trouble.

Luhan liked to think of all the different times his friends and Sehun’s friends had been together as trial runs. The baby shower was certainly going to be the real deal, and Luhan hoped it went well.

Sehun’s parents had proven that they could come together in a united way for a single event, so maybe there was hope for everyone else.

But Luhan certainly was apprehensive as he waited for Sehun to pick him up for the baby shower hosted by their friends. Luhan hadn’t had the space to hold the shower, Sehun’s home was still littered with boxes he hadn’t had the time to get around to unpacking, and that had meant improvising.

Kris’s apartment was going to play host to the party, which Luhan undoubtedly thought was a strategic move on his part. Kris had called it home field advantage, after all.

Fighting down his nerves, Luhan had all but jumped off the sofa he’d been perched on the edge of when the doorbell rang. Sehun seemed to have issues being on time, but for once he was early and Luhan was thankful.

Until he realized it wasn’t Sehun on the other side of the door.

“Try not to look so utterly crushed,” Suho joked, arms folded in a relaxed way. “You’re going to see Sehun in less than half an hour.”

Luhan grimaced. “Am I that transparent?”

With a chuckle, Suho said, “Just obviously in love. That’s possibly the same thing, however, so we’ll call it semantics and move on.”

Curiously, Luhan asked, “Why are you here? I don’t mean to sound rude, you know I like you, Suho, but Sehun was supposed to be picking me up. Is everything okay?”

It seemed a little childish, but over the past few nights he’d been having nightmares concerning Sehun. Frightful nightmares. They made Luhan worry and feel clingy whenever Sehun was out of sight. And even thought his doctor said nightmares were perfectly normal, even the increased number of them he was having, he was finding it difficult to shake their content. Or his own insecurities.

“Actually,” Suho said, “I asked Sehun if I could be the one to drive you. I’ve been working a lot lately, and you’ve gotten pretty busy yourself. We haven’t had time to talk, and there’s a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

With a shrug Luhan reached for his house keys and said, “Sure. But I was counting on you to make sure Sehun showed up to the baby shower before it ended. Someone is covering that, right?”

Suho took a step back so Luhan could exit and laughed a bit. “Kai has that covered. Don’t worry.”

Once he was seated in Suho’s exceptionally nice car, Luhan wasted no time in asking, “What’s so important that you had to ambush me at my house?” He tried to keep his tone light to make sure Suho knew he was joking.

Of all the friendships Luhan had that were new, Suho’s was likely the most important. Suho was feeling more like a brother with each day. And Luhan was not so secretly excited for his daughter to be old enough to refer to Suho as her uncle.

Suho glanced at him for a second, then said, “Because I’m not sure how many times I’ll see you over the next two weeks.”

“Is there some kind of deadline?” Luhan asked jokingly.

Suho made an almost disgruntled sound. “Actually, there is. Luhan, there’s been a deal in the works with my company for quite a while, and this past Friday it finally went through. We’ve officially been purchased by a larger subsidiary in America. The company is liquidating some assets, merging others, and moving most of its internal workings to America.”

Air catching in his throat, Luhan asked, “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Suho said slowly and deliberately, “That some employees will be let go, but others, myself included, will be relocated to America.”

“You’re moving to America?” Luhan blurted out.

Suho gave a silent nod.

“What? Why? How long? Suho! You can’t just spring this on me.”

“I thought it best to tell you in person,” Suho replied. “As a senior member of the board I’m contractually obligated to move and oversee the integration. It’s not really a choice, Luhan.”

“How long will you be gone?” Luhan could hardly imagine his life without Suho there, spoiling him with things that made him feel cherished, taking him out for lunch just to talk with him, and continuously supporting him whenever he was a little down. Suho was family now. Luhan didn’t want to have his baby without Suho there.

“A year at least,” Suho said, sounding unexcited. “Maybe more. It’s hard to say now, but I’ve been advised to look for long term housing in New York, and prepare to settle in. I think it’ll be more than a year.”

Luhan shook his head. “I can’t believe this.”

“I was supposed to fly out at the end of the month,” Suho said, surprising him. “I told the president that either I didn’t leave until after the new year, or I’d resign my position.”

With the buildings flashing past them in a blur, Luhan asked wide eyed, “Why then?”

“Because,” Suho said kindly, “you’re due right around Christmas, and there’s no way I’m missing this baby’s birth. There’s no way I’m not going to be there for you and Sehun, or miss getting to hold my niece as soon as the both of you start letting visitors in.” A little more cheerily, Suho said, “So if you could please try to deliver on time, that would great. I’m not sure how that conversation would go over with my boss if I missed the first.”

“You …” Luhan felt his eyes watering almost immediately. His hormones were completely out of control, and combined with the knowledge that Suho had risked his job to be in Korea when he gave birth …

“Don’t cry,” Suho said, an encouraging look on his face. “What did I tell you all those months ago? The words I said when I came to see you for the first time. I said in some weird way, this baby is my family. It’s less weird now. I’m going to be there, and I promise to come home for all the major holidays and birthdays. My work in America won’t stop me from being a supportive friend and doting uncle.”

Palming at his eyes, Luhan said, “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Believe it or not,” Suho said, eyes jerking down to the car’s navigation system that was guiding him towards Kris’s apartment, “this isn’t actually what I really want to talk to you about. I mean, I want you to understand that my moving to America doesn’t mean I want to cut you or Sehun out of my life. But there’s something else.”

“Like what?”

“I need to ask a favor of you,” Suho said. “Or maybe it’s a request. You’re not obligated to accept, I should preface.”

Luhan wasn’t sure there was anything he could do for Suho, but he was more than willing to hear the man out. “Name it.”

Easing them to a stop at a red light, Suho turned more fully to Luhan and said, “I’m going to be in America for at least a year, which means that my house is about to sit vacant for a long time.”

“Are you going to sell it?” Luhan asked uncertainly.

“I don’t want to,” Suho replied frankly. “I bought it after a lot of consideration, and it’s most definitely the house I want to raise my children in, when I get around to having them. I want to keep it, but I’m worried about squatters, vandals, the general upkeep of the house, and I detest the idea of having a house just sitting there, that I’m paying property taxes on, with no one using it.”

“So,” Luhan said slowly, “you want me to keep an eye on the house?”

“I want you to live in it,” Suho said bluntly.

Live in it? Was Suho crazy? “But it’s your house,” Luhan protested.

Suho eased off the break and replied, “It’s a house that’s about to sit empty for likely a few years. It’s in a good part of town, fairly close to Sehun’s new house, it has plenty of room for a baby, and you’d be doing me a favor if you lived there while I was away.”

Luhan crossed his arms over his stomach suspiciously. “Did Sehun tell you that I’ve been worried about my apartment being too small for the baby?” Or the stairs? Sehun was getting better and better at prying his worries out, whether he could solve them or not.

“This isn’t pity or a hand out,” Suho said, and sounded quite sincere. “I need the house to be kept up while I’m gone, and while I don’t want the house to sit empty while I pay for it, I also don’t want strangers living in that house. So if you were there, I know I could trust it with you, and in return you’d get a place to stay that’s bigger than what you have now. I think it’s a win-win.”

“It still feels like a handout,” Luhan said. Being pregnant had made him less prideful than he’d been before, but living in Suho’s house felt like taking advantage of him.

“I’m not giving you the house,” Suho chuckled. “I’m coming back to Korea eventually, and I’ll take my house back then. But hopefully at that point you won’t have a baby on your hands, and you’ll have a much steadier income, or my stupid brother-in-law will have wised up and asked you to move in with him already. Whichever you prefer.”

Luhan felt his face heat. “I don’t think Sehun and I are anywhere close to being ready for that just yet.”

“I don’t know,” Suho shrugged. “Sehun’s getting pretty bold with you these days, and he’s always been a little impulsive. Give him a bit more time. He’ll want you and the baby with him more permanently soon enough.”

Still uncomfortable, Luhan asked, “You wouldn’t rather rent out to someone who seems reliable? You could make a lot of money renting for a few years.”

“Why rent to someone else when I can give to you? I don’t need the money, Luhan. It’s not about the money at all. It’s about you having a place to safely raise my niece, and me having peace of mind about a property that means a lot to me.”

“What about another family member? Isn’t there anyone else more deserving?”

Suho gave him an almost severe look. “You’re very deserving, Luhan.” Then he cleared his throat. “But no, I don’t have a lot of family, not like Sehun. My parents live near Jeju and would have no use for my house. Jae was my only sibling. I have a few cousins, but honestly I like you more than I like them. So, what do you say?”

“You’re being very generous,” Luhan said, and he desperately wanted to say yes right away. He’d seen Suho’s house before. It was big and beautiful. It would be enough room for Luhan and the baby, plus a room for painting, and all the meanwhile Luhan could work and save for his own house.

“Do I have to remind you there’s a yard?” Suho said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Not a lot of places have yards. But I’ve got one, and you know what goes with a yard? A puppy. My niece deserves a puppy, don’t you think?”

Luhna put his face in his hands. “You’re impossible.”

Suho laughed loudly. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

Luhan nodded. It looked like he’d be moving, and even if Suho wanted to disguise it as a favor to him, Luhan knew the truth. He’d show his appreciation by taking care of the house, keeping it immaculate, and working hard to be independent by the time Suho came back to Korea to live.

As they came up on Kris’s apartment, Luhan asked, “Does Sehun know you’re going out of the country for a long while?”

“I told him it was a possibility,” Suho said with a sigh. “I didn’t tell him the deal came through. I will soon.”

“He’ll be upset,” Luhan said. He knew how much Sehun depended on Suho, more than Luhan did. In a lot of ways, Suho had been the only thing that kept Sehun going when the accident had happened. “But he’ll also be happy for you. This is an exciting thing. New York, you said?”

Suho confirmed, “New York. When the baby is a little older, and you’re willing to part with her for more than a second, I want you and Sehun to come visit me on vacation.”

Luhan gave a loud snort. “You’ll be asking for your house back before Sehun is willing to be parted with her for more than a few minutes.”

Suho vowed, “Sehun is going to be the best clingy dad ever.”

“I really think so,” Luhan agreed.

“Luhan,” Suho said sharply, then his hand went to cover Luhan’s. “Thank you for taking such good care of Sehun over the months. Thank you for being patient with him, dealing with his stubbornness, moodiness and overall unwillingness to believe in himself. I don’t know if I’ve said it before, but I truly mean it, thank you.”

Eyebrows lifting, Luhan returned, “Sehun’s a pain in the butt, but it’s easy to see why people fall in love with him. It’s easy to love someone like Sehun, despite how rough around the edges he is.”

Maneuvering the car into a spot in front of Kris’s apartment building, Suho remarked, “It’s a damn shame that you and Jae never properly met and got to spend real time together. Luhan, I’m telling you, the two of you would have been great friends.”

Not that he’d say so out loud to Suho, but Luhan was more than a little happy that his path had never crossed with Jae’s other than the one singular time. It would have made loving Sehun a new kind of challenge.

“Any hint as to the insanity that’s coming?” Luhan asked, looking up at the tall building. “Did I mention that I really think this party is unnecessary? You guys have already been very lavish with giving the baby and I things.”

Suho rounded the car to stand next to him. “Baby showers are kind of like funerals. They’re not really for the person you initially think they are. They’re way more about the people attending.”

“Okay,” Luhan sighed out. “Let’s go do this, hopefully without any bloodshed.”

“We’ll see about that last part,” Suho said. “God help anyone who tries to get you a better shower gift than Baekhyun.”

Luhan asked pointedly, “Baekhyun? The guy who up until about a month ago hated my guts?”

Suho laughed, “Yeah, well Sehun isn’t the only one who tends to win people over and make them love him.”

They were, Luhan discovered fifteen minutes later, the last to arrive. Kris’s apartment, which was more than decent sized, was full of friends, with music going in the background, food spread out generously, and balloons tied to streamers floating across the ceiling.

“Luhan!” Sehun called out the moment he was spotted, and nearly dove to his side. “You’re here.”

Luhan happily accepted a kiss from him, the remarked, “Suho and I thought about running away, maybe making a new life for ourselves in Canada, but eventually we realized how much you need us.”

The genuine smile that Sehun gave him, with eyes so full of love, made Luhan’s knees feel a little weak.

“I’ll go get you a glass of water,” Sehun said, pecking him on the mouth as a parting.

“Luhan!” Tao called out, and he was clustered with Xiumin, Kai and Lay in one corner. Tao waved him over, and with one last brace for impact, Luhan dove into the crowd.

For the most part, as the minutes ticked by, it seemed like his fears had been unfounded. Most everyone was casual with each other, if not friendly, and the dreaded baby games that Luhan despised only seemed to make them happier. For that, and the smiles on the faces of the people he cared most about, Luhan was willing to endure all the fussing and attention.

He also met, within a half hour of arriving, Sehun’s last closest friend, D.O..

“My name’s Kyungsoo,” the short but friendly man said, giving Sehun a dirty look.

“Would you prefer I call you that?” Luhan asked, looking between him and Sehun. For the most part Sehun’s friends had turned out to be a lot like Luhan’s in the name department. Most of them had nicknames they went by, and few of them seemed reasonable or explainable.

“You can call me whatever you want,” D.O. said, turning back to Luhan. He stuck a hand out for Luhan to shake. “You’re not the one who decided to give me the horrible nickname in the first place. Anyway, nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Baekhyun said cutting in. “Go find yourself a different new friend. This one is taken.”

D.O. rolled his eyes and wandered off as Luhan said lightly, “I can be both your friends.”

“Nah.” Baehyun curled his hands around Luhan’s wrist and, “Come on. It’s present time.”

Luhan’s eyes went to the stack of brightly wrapped gifts in the corner of Kris’s living room. “There are certainly a lot.”

Baekhyun said, “Those? Please. Come here.”

That was when Luhan discovered Kris’s guest room was full of the overflow of presents.

Five minutes later he was seated on the sofa, Sehun next to him, and they were devouring presents left and right.

“Mine next!” Tao demanded, but Suho was there to stifle the flow of presents thankfully, and feed them to Luhan and Sehun at a steady rate.

And the gifts? Luhan was more than a little impressed.

Months earlier Suho in particular, but others as well, had gone on a furniture and clothing buying spree. Luhan was absolutely certain that he had all the essentials for his baby already, and had been a little worried that there’d be duplicate presents. However, it was to his pleasant surprise that Luhan discovered all the presents from the shower were new, unique and very useful.

“I never even thought about how much I’d need this,” Luhan said when he unwrapped Lay’s present and found a newborn bathing kit.

And Sehun was impressed by the grooming kit that came with it.

But Luhan liked Tao’s present even more, a fashionable baby sling that would make it easier to carry his daughter around and stay mobile as soon as she was able to hold her own head up.

There were no dud presents, Luhan decided when they were more than halfway through. But there did seem to be some deliberate duplicates.

“Because you two don’t live together,” Chanyeol said easily when he revealed that he’d bought a crib mobile for the both of them, and no less than a dozen stuffed animals. He’d given the rocket ship mobile to Sehun, “So she can grow up and be an astronaut if she wants,” and the car themed mobile to Luhan, “so if she’s not feeling that astronaut thing, my niece can still be a kickass race car driver. Formula one!”

Sehun reached out and flicked Chanyeol hard. “My daughter isn’t doing anything that dangerous. Stop saying things like that.”

Luhan laughed along with everyone else, but he was suddenly stuck on the idea that he’d always known, but was getting harder to swallow. He and Sehun would be raising their daughter separately. They were very much in love with each other, and their relationship was making leaps and bounds with every passing day. But Luhan didn’t know how long they’d be separate from each other. That meant two cribs for the baby, two nurseries, and two different homes.

With a grunt Baekhyun dragged a huge box into the living room. He was straining against its weight and Luhan’s eyes widened at the size.

“What’s in that thing?” he asked, getting up to his feet slowly. Sehun was right there next to him.

“Only the best present ever,” Baekhyun declared.

With his hands on his hips, Luhan questioned, “You do realize you’re setting the bar impossibly high for your own baby shower?”

Baekhyun said smugly, “You’d better buy my baby a car after this.”

The box was so big Luhan let Sehun rip off the paper, and in a second more he was looking at … well, he wasn’t sure.

“That’s pretty cool,” Xiumin remarked from his vantage point, and Kris nodded along.

The best way Luhan could think to describe it was a baby jungle gym. It was a contraption of sorts that looked huge, from the picture on the box, that seemed designed to cater to the needs of mobile or adventurous babies. With an enclosed fence on the advertised picture, it was probably more like a big playpen, full odds and ends to stimulate the young minds of babies, things to crawl over when the baby was big enough to start going, and built in toys for the baby once she was a little older. It was massive and interesting and downright amazing.

“Because you like to paint,” Baekhyun said, and for the first time there was a hint of nervousness on his face. “Suho showed me that piece you did for him, and Sehun said you did one for him, too. So I figured you could put the baby in here, it’ll keep her entertained forever, and then you could paint for a while.”

Without warning Luhan leaned over and hugged him. Baekhyun was a little stiff against him for a second, then he was hugging back. “Thank you, Baekhyun. It’s amazing and I love it. Thank you.”

Sehun had an identical one, Luhan learned, which was currently sitting in his foyer waiting for him.

“I didn’t want to lug both of them over,” Baekhyun said, straightening up from the hug. “Anyway, like I said, a car for my baby, please.”

With a hand on Luhan’s shoulder, Sehun said, “How about we negotiate that with Taeyeon?”

“On that note,” Lay said, gesturing for Suho to hand over his present, “I think it’s time for my gift.”

From Lay there’d been a brilliant set of new paints, including baby safe finger paints for his daughter when she was old enough. For Sehun there was a certificate for a baby and me class down at the local community center, and a matching set of baby monitors that were designed for being clipped onto belt loops or nearby surfaces.

Before the end Luhan was feeling absolutely spoiled and never more thankful for his friends.

“Thank you all so much,” Luhan said, bowing as deeply to them as his stomach would allow.

“You guys are amazing,” Sehun said in agreement. “Let’s get some cake. Luhan and I have an important announcement for you.”

Cake was a massive strawberry and vanilla dream that Luhan had to exercise all sorts of control over.

Sehun gave him a knowing look when he saw the size of Luhan’s cake piece, to which Luhan defended hotly, “It has strawberries. It’s fruit.”

Sehun laughed and didn’t push it.

“What’s this announcement?” Kai asked once a good portion of the cake was gone.

“We,” Sehun said, voice going little raw. “We decided that out baby needs a name before she’s born.”

Sehun agreeing to something that had such a traumatic association to him was something surprising to Luhan. He had been prepared to not push the subject at all, and even not say a word about it until he was in the hospital, ready to deliver. But it seemed that Sehun was making every effort to move past the tragedy of his past. Sehun had suggested they pick names, and he and Luhan had spent the past few days agonizing over the choices before agreeing.

Sehun had seemed surprised they’d decided so quickly, but Luhan was just relieved.

“Really?” Suho asked, eyebrows pulling together.

Tapping his fork against this plate, D.O. asked, “Did you go with a Chinese name or a Korean one? Luhan, aren’t you the only child in your family? Won’t your parents want a Chinese name?”

Luhan hoped nothing showed on his face. There was no way D.O. could have known about his family and what they’d tried to do to him.

“Luhan’s family,” Sehun cut in roughly, and with a hard look, “aren’t in the picture. They’re of no concern and we shouldn’t think of them at all.”

“Oh,” D.O. said.

Tao added, “They’re dicks.”

Kris cuffed him lightly over the back of his head. “Language.”

To break the awkwardness, Luhan said, “Our daughter is going to have a Korean name and a Chinese name. I want to stay here in Korea. I want to raise my daughter in Korea. It’s important that she’s half Korean and knows the language and the country, and that she is accepted. So she’ll have a Korea name. But I don’t want her to forget that I’m Chinese, so she is too. When I take her to visit China when she’s older, I want her to have a Chinese name as well.”

“Then what’s the Korean name?” Chanyeol questioned.

They’d played with naming their daughter Miyoung for a while. It was something of a commonplace in Korea for siblings to have similar names. If they named their baby Miyoung, she’d be tied to Seoyoung. But in the end, he and Sehun had decided that they wanted to have a clean start with their baby.

“We decided to give her the Korean name Youri,” Sehun answered.

Baekhyun made a face. “Like Yuri of Goguryeo?”

Sehun rolled his eyes. “Thank you, teacher Baekhyun. For your information, it’s Youri.” He quickly wrote down the name in Hangeul and then turned it around so they could see the symbols. “And it’s a very modern, very feminine name now. It’s the name of a powerful woman. Baekhyun, are you making fun of my daughter’s name?”

Suho interjected, “I think it’s rather pretty. Luhan, what about the Chinese name?”

Luhan smiled. “Her Chinese name will be Daiyu.” He wrote out the Chinese characters cleanly for them to see. Then he said, “She’ll go by her Korean name when she’s young and in school, but we’ll let her decide which name she wants to use when she’s older. She’ll have dual citizenship.”

“But what will we call her?” Kai asked.

In a lot of ways, Luhan thought his daughter was lucky to have two names. She was going to be able to find home in two different places, and she’d be enriched by two different cultures. “Which ever you prefer,” Luhan said with a shrug. “But she’ll probably respond to Youri when she’s younger, and then Daiyu when she’s older.”

“No.” Kai shook his head. “I meant, what’s her nickname going to be? It’s kind of a tradition with us now. She should have a nickname.”

A quick look to Sehun produced the realization that neither of them had considered that yet.

“You guys decide,” Luhan said.

After the presents and cake they played a few more games, none of which Luhan was all that interested in, and the sugar from the food begun to creep up on him. He blinked sleepily as the others who were playing baby themed charades, and then there was nothing more.

“Luhan?” a gentle voice asked. “Luhan, wake up.”

Blinking heavy lids open, Luhan was surprised to find he’d been stretched out on the nearby sofa, covered in a soft blanket, and the apartment was somewhat silent.

Sehun was at his side, kneeling down, giving him a lazy grin. “You awake now?”

Luhan sat up slowly and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Did I ruin the party?”

“Not even,” Kris said from behind him, picking up wrapping paper and putting it into a bigger trash bag. “Everyone just left. And hey, you slept through all their shouting and loudness. If you were that tired, you should have said something.”

“It just kind of came up on me,” Luhan said bashfully. “I’ve been napping a lot lately. Where’s everyone else?”

Sehun cupped the side of his face and kissed him softly. “They all went home. It’s getting pretty late, actually. Also, Suho said to tell you he’ll come by in a couple of days to talk some details over. Details for what?”

“He’ll tell you,” Luhan assured, not wanting to be the one to say anything. There was no doubt that Sehun would be deeply hurt by Suho moving so far away, and for so long.

“I’m kind of glad they’re all gone,” Sehun said, and over his shoulder Luhan could see Kris drifting away to the kitchen. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” Luhan made a face. “We decided not to get presents for each other. This baby is a present enough.”

“Youri is,” Sehun agreed, and it sounded so wonderful to hear her name come from Sehun. “But I got you something all the same. Don’t worry. It didn’t cost anything.”

Sitting up fully, Luhan requested, “What is it?”

Whatever it was, it was hidden in a palm sized box that Sehun pulled from nearby. He put it in Luhan’s hands gently and said, “I just want you to know that I’m not giving this to you with any kind of pressure. It’s just because want you to know how important you are to me, how much I want you in my life, and how I consider you family now.”

It was easy to slide the box lid off. And underneath the lid, hooked to a ring with a baby themed chain, was a silver house key.

“This is … the key to your new house?” Luhan guessed.

Sehun nodded. “We’re not ready to live together. We’re still trying to work on our relationship, and having a baby right now completely complicates things. But I want you to have the key. You can come over any time you want, and I want you to feel like it’s your home too.”

Fingers curling around the key, Luhan asked, “Are we really going to be able to do this? Me give you the baby half the time, and you give her to me the other half?” It was inevitable, but getting more hurtful every time he thought about it. He wondered if it was the same for Sehun, and thought it probably was.

“She should stay with you for a while,” Sehun said, surprising him completely. “For … six months?” He looked a little helpless.

“You really feel that way?” Luhan asked, unsure.

With a nod, Sehun helped Luhan to his feet. “I want to be there for everything, all the time, but it would be irresponsible for me to risk Youri carting her back and forth at only a couple of months old. She needs stability, and to be in a safe, warm environment. She needs to be with you, because you carried her, and you have a bond with her that even I have to admit is on a different level than whatever bond I’ll have with her. It’s just better, even if I don’t like it, for her to be with you for the first half of her life at least. Then we can try something different, or maybe then we’ll be ready to try living together. I just know that I won’t put her in danger because I want to be close to her.”

Deliberately, Luhan bumped his stomach against Sehun. “Why are you acting like that only goes one way? Sehun, you know the code to get my building. My home is your home, too. Just because she’ll stay with me in the beginning, doesn’t mean you can’t be there as often as you want. Sehun, do you have any idea how welcomed you’ll be for her feedings, bedtime, bath time, and everything in between?”

Sehun posed, “What if I show up during my lunch break?”

“Then I’ll hand her to you and take a break myself.” Luhan leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Sehun’s neck. “If you show up at three in the morning, or on your day off, or whatever, she’s yours. I mean that.”

Sehun hugged him back tightly. “We can do this. We’ll make it work, even if it means I end up spending the night on your sofa a couple times a week, or bugging you endlessly with how needy I’m going to be with this baby.”

“You mean a lifesaver?” Luhan asked, his dry lips pressing against the corner of Sehun’s mouth. “I want to start painting again as soon as I have Youri. I want to try and have a gallery showing, and do something with my degree. I can’t do that if I have to raise a newborn alone. With your help, I can be a parent and have a job.”

“We’re going to be a team,” Sehun clarified.

“A really good team,” Luhan agreed.

“Hey you two,” Kris said, coming back into the living room. “Have you decided what you’re going to do with all these gifts? You can leave most of them here tonight if you want and come back for them later. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Luhan said, leaning against Sehun. “I guess this means I’ll finally have to get on finishing the nursery. I’m running out of time.”

“You’ve got to be further along than I am,” Sehun said. “I’m still trying to decide which room should be the nursery. How about you help me and I’ll help you?”

With a wave to Kris, Luhan and Sehun headed away from the apartment, Luhan remarking, “I’ve got all the furniture put together, I just need you to help me move it all into place. And then the finishing touches.”

“I can come over in a couple of days for that,” Sehun said, his arm going around Luhan’s shoulders easily. “That work for you?”

“Sounds good,” Luhan replied.

Luhan could feel the key to Sehun’s house in his pocket, heavy and meaningful.

“How did today go for you? Not as bad as you thought it was going to be, right?” Sehun asked.

Luhan grinned widely at him. “I put up a fuss, but honestly, days like today make me realize how lucky I really am.”

“Me to,” Sehun breathed out, his hold on Luhan tightening a bit.

Luhan knew without a doubt that this was how he wanted to live the rest of his life, and most certainly with Sehun by his side.

Chapter Text

“Holy …” Sehun tipped his head back slightly as he took in the transformed spare bedroom in Luhan’s apartment. The last time he’d been in the room it had been to receive the painting Luhan had made for him, and the contents had looked so different.

Now the walls were painted varying shades of blue, with constellations, stars and other astrological features spread about them. Gone were the paintings, and in their place was a crib, a changing table, small dresser, and other essential pieces of furniture. Everything fit in perfectly, the room was cheery without being overly bright, and it was downright gorgeous how the room had been styled.

“You did all this?” Sehun asked, spinning a bit. “How?”

Luhan crossed his arms and looked at least a litte smug. “I didn’t paint the walls myself, if that’s’ what you’re getting at.”

Sehun gave him a flat look. He knew Luhan wouldn’t have compromised their baby in that way. “I assume you had someone else do the painting.”

With a pleased smile, Luhan said, “I supervised, from the doorway, without breathing in any fumes, thank you very much. But I did design the nursery. I wanted to stay away from an overly girly room, since we won’t know what kind of personality Youri has until much later.”

Nodding, Sehun said, “Good call. This is amazing.”

He knew that before entering his third trimester, Luhan had been making decent money designing and painting nurseries for other people. Sehun had assumed he was good at it, from the amount of demand Luhan seemed to be in for those months, but if this room now was any indication …

“I really like it,” Sehun remarked a bit goofily. “I’m thinking Chanyeol got our crib mobiles mixed up after all. You should have the rocket ships and I should have the race cars.”

Shrugging, Luhan said, “We can trade if you want. Now, can you move this furniture? I want to put the crib adjacent to the window and move the dresser to the side.”

His toes sinking into the soft carpet, Sehun said, “No problem. Just direct me. But hey, where did all the paintings go? I liked them.”

Luhan pointed down. “They’re all hanging in the coffee shop right now. At least for the moment. Kris said I’ve got free reign of the walls, but with any hope, I’ll sell some.”

“Not too attached to your art?” Sehun asked curiously. “Isn’t it supposed to be a series?”

“I’ve got new inspiration now,” Luhan said, fondly rubbing his stomach in a way that made Sehun want to join him in the act. “What I’ve got planned for when I can paint again, is going to blow that series out of the water and make it look like armature hour.”

Strangely enough, it was these moments with Luhan, hanging around and chatting easily with him, that Sehun liked the best.

“I’m not sure this is going to fit,” Sehun said after most of the furniture had been placed and only the rocking chair and footstool were left. The room was small to begin with, much smaller than the room Sehun was sure was going to be his daughter’s at the new house. And Luhan, thanks to Suho and the others, had a lot of things to fit in it. Sehun wasn’t optimistic.

“Maybe we should measure it,” Luhan, hands on his hips as he surveyed the room. “I have a tape measure.” He laughed. “Somewhere.”

Taking a moment to breathe, Sehun sat cross legged on the carpet. “I’m not sure a tape measure is going to help. You need more space, honestly.” He was already more than a little uncomfortable with how small the room was. His baby deserved something bigger, but the last thing he wanted to do was insult Luhan or his ability to provide for their daughter.

With a frown, Luhan asked, “Have you talked to Suho lately?”

Head cocking, Sehun shook his head. “He said he wanted to talk, but we haven’t been able to get our schedules to match up. I think we’re getting lunch tomorrow, though. Why?”

There was something secretive going on with Luhan, and if Sehun hadn’t been so enamored with him, and so easily placated, he might have pulled at what it made him feel. But instead he merely accepted Luhan saying, “We’ll get back to the size of this room after you talk to him.”

“Okay,” Sehun groaned out, then he climbed to his feet. “Until then, let me get the tape measure. Maybe we can move some stuff around to get it all in for now. It’s not like we’ll have to worry about Youri crawling around for a while. Do you remember where the measurer is?”

Sehun watched Luhan run his hand across the railing to the crib. He looked fascinated by it, or maybe just caught in thought. Sehun was all kinds of apprehension about the baby, no matter how welcomed she was. It had to be worse for Luhan. He was the one carrying her around. Sehun wondered if thoughts of her kept him up at night too, and worries about doing the right thing, being enough, and living up to expectations.

“My bedroom,” Luhan said a bit absently. “Top drawer on the side table next to the bed. I think. I hope.”

Sehun let his hand brush across Luhan’s stomach as he passed, then made the quick trek to Luhan’s bedroom.

Sehun had never, even seen inside the room. All the times he’d come to visit, the door had been firmly shut, as if it were hiding some great secret. But now, pushing it open, Sehun could see that it was merely a case of his imagination getting the best of him. The bedroom was absolutely normal, almost plain in design, and decorated sparingly. It was obviously that Luhan spent very little time in his bedroom, and used it for nothing more than sleeping.

He frowned however at the sight of two bedside tables, both on either side of the bed. “Luhan!” he called out, not sure which one to search. “Is it the left one or the right one?”

“The right!” Luhan called back almost immediately.

That actually wasn’t very helpful, Sehun contemplated. Was that the right side facing the bed, or the right side as if he were laying in it?

With a sigh he went for the drawer closest to him. Luhan didn’t seem the type to keep anything embarrassing locked away. He was an open person, not at all ashamed of things, and there wasn’t much that Sehun thought that he was going to find anyway, which might be in the slightest bit embarrassing.

Sehun pulled open the drawer and tried not make a face. Unlike Luhan, and the rest of his apartment, the drawer was not in the least bit organized. It seemed there were a million stray papers stuffed into it, congregating into a huge stack and there was no way he was getting to the bottom of the drawer unless he moved some of them.

After a quick glance to the door to make sure Luhan wasn’t able to see him, Sehun began pulling the papers out, setting them on the nearby bed, searching for the tape measure.

It wasn’t until his fingers nicked across a thick paper clip that Sehun paused for the first time. The papers attached to the clip were of sturdier than normal card stock, and the official stamp at the top caught his eye.

Common sense told him not to pry, and his manners reaffirmed that Luhan’s business was not Sehun’s business.

But his eyes were skimming the paper before he could stop himself.

He knees gave out unexpectedly, and griping the papers with fingers so tightly they were white with the pressure, Sehun gasped for air.

These papers, these official documents clipped together, were about his baby. They were stamped with Luhan’s name and Sehun’s name and the content was about their baby.

“Sehun? You find it?”

Sehun’s eyes searched the top paper frantically, panic and fury growing as he realized precisely what information he was taking in.

Betrayed. He was betrayed.

How could he have been betrayed like this, and by Luhan? Luhan was the man that Sehun loved. He was the father of his child and the partner he wanted to have for decades and decades more. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t seem right. And Sehun felt his heart break.

“Sehun?”

Like a lightening strike Sehun was surging to his feet and sprinting the distance back to Luhan. He came upon the nursery so fast he slammed into the open door, bounced off it and struggled to suck air in between his clenched teeth.

Absolutely startled Luhan’s eyes widened a he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Sehun ground out.

The papers were clenched in his hand, crumpled now, as Luhan said, “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

“You are a liar,” Sehun said, not sure whether he wanted to yell or cry. He brought up the papers and said, “You are a liar and a thief and a goddamn con artist.”

Luhan looked furious in a second as he asked, “Is that … Sehun! Did you go through my things?”

“I was looking for the tape measure!” Sehun snapped viciously. “And this is what I find? This shit?”

“Don’t you dare yell at me!” Luhan threw back at him, and Sehun only now realized that his body had made the decision for him. There were no tears in his eyes, but there was rage in his voice.

Sehun all but roared back, “Don’t yell at you? Don’t yell at you! Then tell me to my face that I’m not holding in my hands what I think I am. Is this or is this not paperwork for sole custody of Youri?”

“It’s not like that,” Luhan said, and his panic was clearly starting to set in. It was as much an omnission of guilt as Sehun needed. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand more than enough,” Sehun shouted, feeling like he was shaking the walls with his voice alone. “This is the paperwork that gives you complete custody of our daughter, leaving me without any parental rights. Were you going to slip this to me when I wasn’t looking? Were you even going to tell me what I was singing, or was I going to have no clue that you’d stolen my daughter from me?”

“Sehun!”

“I trusted you!” Sehun slammed his fist into the wall. It hurt terribly and he felt the plaster crack under the force of his fist, but he barely registered it. “I trusted you with everything. I … Christ, I told you things that I never thought I’d be able to say to anyone!”

His hands up defensively, and eyes shinning with unshed tears, Luhan begged, “Please let me explain.”

“I told you about Jae,” Sehun said, voice shaking now with sadness. “I told you about Seoyoung. I told you about the worst moment in my life that I wanted to die from. I trusted you when you said this baby was ours to raise, and I belived you when you fed me lie after lie about taking responsibility and facing up to reality and being a good father.”

“That paperwork was precautionary!” Luhan said, leaning back against the crib almost unevenly on his feet. “Look at the date. That paperwork was done before I knew who you were. It was drawn up before I knew what kind of a father you were going to be, and before I loved you.”

“Don’t you dare bring love into this,” Sehun cut him off ruthlessly. “I love Youri. I love her with every bit of my heart that is still capable of loving. And you … you were just going to try and snatch her out from under me.”

“That is not true!” Luhan shouted back right away. “Don’t you put words in my mouth!”

Sehun threw the paperwork down on the ground. “Were you going to just up and disappear on me one day? Take her back to China with you and leave me with absolutely no claim to her?”

Luhan insisted, “I wasn’t even sure you wanted to be a father to Youri when I saw the lawyer. I wanted to give you an out, not trap you.”

Incredulously, Sehun laughed harshly, “A lawyer. You went to see a lawyer. Of course you did.”

“I couldn’t have made you sign that paper,” Luhan countered. “I wasn’t suing you for custody.”

It was as if Sehun didn’t even know who Luhan was. This wasn’t the man that had badgered Sehun gently until he’d given their baby a fair shot. This wasn’t the Luhan who’d claimed to have feelings for him but wanted to work on their friendship before anything else. This certainly wasn’t the kind hearted, generous, selfless person that Sehun had thought he’d fallen in love with--that he’d risked everything to fly after to China when he’d been in a bad situation.

No, this was someone else entirely. This was a …

“Monster,” Sehun cut out. “You’re a monster. I lost one daughter, and you want to take the other one, too?”

“You’re not listening!” Luhan shouted, sounding even more frantic. “Will you just listen to me? Just let me explain!”

Sehun put his foot down deliberately on the paperwork. “I don’t need you to explain anything. I just need you to listen. I think you’re a liar and a coward. I think you’re despicable. I think you really thought you were going to get away with taking my baby from me and you’re wrong if you think that’s what’s going to happen.”

Luhan’s chest was heaving, and his stomach looked so pronounced. Sehun wanted to reach in and save his baby. He wanted to tear Youri out of Luhan and protect her from him.

“You will never,” Sehun vowed, “never take away my parental rights. That is my daughter and I’ll die before I let you have her.”

Luhan’s shoulders hitched once, twice, and then he was openly crying, declaring, “Stop saying these hurtful things. I don’t want to take the baby from you. You don’t understand.”

Sehun continued, “I am not going to roll over and let you get your way. You have picked the wrong person to screw with, Luhan.”

“Please,” Luhan choked out, sliding down a bit with his grip on the crib wavering.

“That’s my daughter and you can’t have her.” Sehun took a step back, feeling light headed from how little air he’d been managing to take in. “I won’t be deceived by you again. I’ll never let you lie to me again, or manipulate me. You can bet on that.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Luhan insisted.

“The only mistake I made,” Sehun decided, “was being taken for a fool by you for so long.” He jabbed a finger at Luhan’s stomach and declared, “I can’t do anything with her still in there. She doesn’t have a choice, she has to be with a person like you until she’s born. But when she is, I’ll get full custody. I will take her from you, Luhan, like you tried to take her from me, and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you beg me to be able to see her.”

He turned on heel before he could stop him and was running towards his shoes near the front door just after that. He ignored the anguished way Luhna called after him, and the pain that sounded in his voice.

There was more than enough proof now that Luhan was a liar and a cheat. He was also an impossibly good actor. There was no way Sehu could ever trust anything he said, otherwise.

More than that, gone was all the love he had felt. Gone was the swelling of affection in his heart, and the repairs done from when Jae had died. Everything was gone, almost like it had never existed in the first place.

Sehun threw open Luhan’s door, blocked out his voice completely, and then practically tumbled his way down the stairs.

By the time he broke out onto the streets his strength was all but gone. His anger was fading fast and in its place finally came the tears.

His vision was blurry and tear ruined by the time he got his car started, and he was having trouble seeing the painted lines on the road as he jerked into traffic.

Luhan. How could Luhan have done this?

How could Sehun have fallen so easily for him?

And god, what if he had never seen the paperwork? It was a pure fluke that he’d gone through the wrong table drawer. If he’d never seen the paperwork he could have accidentally signed it at any time, and effectively lost a second daughter.

Slamming on his breaks to avoid rear ending another car, Sehun choked out a sob. How was he going to explain what Luhan had attempted to do to him? How could he tell Suho, who held Luhan in such regard? Or his mother, who already thought of him as a second son. Telling them the truth was going to hurt them so badly. So now it wasn’t only Sehun that Luhan had hurt.

He wasn’t sure how he made it to Chen’s apartment. He wasn’t even certain the man would be there, but he’d seemingly driven on autopilot and stumbled his way to the front door not long after that.

He could feel his phone vibrating madly in his pocket as he pounded on the door. It had to be Luhan. Sehun was not going to pick up. He didn’t want to hear any more lies. He didn’t want to hear Luhan say anything ever again. There was nothing he could say that would make this right, and nothing that Sehun could hear that would make him forgive Luhan.

“Sehun?”

Sehun tumbled his way into Chen’s arms when the door opened, sobbing openly, an incoherent mess. He shook wildly, almost like he was falling apart, and for a moment, desperately wished he as.

“What the hell is going on?” Chen demanded, holding him tightly. His arms were fitted around Sehun as he bore most of his weight. “Sehun? What’s wrong? What happened?”

Ignoring the world around him, Sehun just let himself take comfort in his best friend. Chen couldn’t make things better, but he, even if only for a bit, could be the kind of strength Sehun needed.

“He did what!” Chen demanded no less than an hour later. Sehun had long since calmed down, slumped lethargically on Chen’s sofa with an untouched glass of water in front of him. “No, Sehun, Luhan wouldn’t.”

“I saw the paperwork,” Sehun said, feeling mostly numb now. “I saw it plain as day, written up by some lawyer Luhan went to see. It said that if I was stupid enough to sign the paper, and god knows Luhan was going to try and get me to do it, I was giving up all of my rights to Youri. It said I couldn’t make medical decisions, see her whenever I wanted, or even legally acknowledge her. Luhan tried to do that to me, Chen. He tried to take my baby.”

There was such disbelief on Chen’s face, and horror. Sehun understood. Luhan had come off as so unassuming most of the time. He’d always been a calming influence, patient and understanding. There’d never been so much as a hint that he was capable of doing something so horrible.

“I just can’t … Chen trailed off. “This doesn’t seem like Luhan. It just doesn’t.”

Sehun shook his head. “I’m such an idiot. Chen, I’m such an idiot for falling for his lies.”

“No,” Chen denied kindly. “You’re just human. And Luhan is apparently a very good liar.”

“The best,” Sehun grumbled out.

“What kind of defense did he offer?” Chen asked, running his fingers through his hair. “He did deny it, right? Or did he admit it, with the proof right there?”

The fight was already getting blurry, and exhaustion was creeping up on Sehun so quickly. It was getting harder and harder to think. “He said it was his. He admitted going to the lawyer. But he said I didn’t understand. Chen, what’s there to understand?”

Chen shrugged. “I don’t know.” He moved to sit next to Sehun, and put a comforting hand on his knee. “I’m sorry.”

With a shudder, Sehun admitted, “I just keep thinking of Youri. She’s trapped, Chen. She’s stuck with him and it’s not like she can go anywhere. And I can’t save her. I can’t take her from him yet.”

“Yet?” Chen asked, eyebrows pulling together suddenly.

“Of course yet,” Sehun said, and he couldn’t fathom why Chen was looking at him so oddly. “I’m not leaving my daughter with someone like him, Chen. I’m getting her out of there as soon as possible. I can’t do that for a few more months, but the second I can, I’m doing it.”

Reeling back a little Chen asked, “You’re going to do to Luhan what he was going to do to you?”

“That’s poetic justice,” Sehun said snappishly.

Chen snorted, “That’s not being any better than he is.”

Sehun gave Chen a dark look. “You want me to leave my baby with a person who would lie and steal and deceive?”

If Chen didn’t support him … if Chen didn’t help him …

“We won’t let that happen,” Chen said finally, and Sehun was almost disturbed to find how relieved he was. “Like you said, there’s nothing you can do right now, but when Luhan gives birth, we’ll make sure Youri is safe.”

Still, there was something on Chen’s face that said he wasn’t completely a believer.

“I need a lawyer,” Sehun realized, chilled at the thought. “Luhan will fight me on this, I know it. I have to get custody before he does.” It felt like the worst kind of race against time.

“You need to calm down,” Chen said, and put a cool hand at the back of his neck. “Sehun, you’re all flushed in the face, but you’re cold to the touch. I think you should rest, maybe take a nap. I’m working from home today. Stay here, okay? Let me take care of you.”

Chen was probably the best best friend ever, and Sehun wasn’t sure what he’d be doing without him.

Tilting sideway to lay down on the sofa, Sehun whispered, “I told him everything, Chen. I let him into my heart, and I believed him and I was such an idiot.”

“You loved him,” Chen corrected, squeezing his hand. “It’s not your fault you fell in love with him. It’s not your fault you didn’t know he would try to cut you out of Youri’s life.”

“I thought we were going to be a team,” Sehun said, closing his eyes as he tried to get comfortable. “He wanted to share everything with me, and got me involved even when I didn’t want to. We picked her name together, and were thinking about having a future together. Chen, if all that was a lie, was it also a lie when he said he loved me?”

Chen’s voice was so unsure as he said, “Only Luhan knows that, Sehun. But rest. Please, rest, and know that when you wake up, I’ll help you deal with this. I was there for you with Jae, and I’ll be here for you with Luhan. No matter what, you won’t have to deal with this alone, and I won’t let him take your daughter from you.”

A quick nap, Sehun told himself, his heart aching with every beat. Because if he slept, he wouldn’t have to think about Luhan who’d been nothing like he seemed.

How could he have picked the worst person in the world to try and start over with.

“Suho,” Sehun heard Chen say, and it took a moment more before he realized that Chen wasn’t speaking to him at all. “Sehun just showed up at my place in tears, hardly making sense. He said something about Luhan lying to him, trying to take the baby from him, and I think it’s very serious. Call me back when you get this. Come over if you can. We have to deal with this. Sehun isn’t … he isn’t good.”

Sehun, almost blissfully, didn’t register any words after that.

He didn’t dream at all.

When he snapped back into awareness he was confronted by darkness. It was enough to make him panic initially, and then eventually calm himself when he recognized the glow from the clock across the room. Chen. He was with Chen. Only Chen had the eerily luminescent clock which had been purchased in America at some point and served almost like a nightlight.

All at once the earlier day came rushing back to Sehun. Luhan’s betrayal came back too easily as well.

He wished that he could say that he’d never met Luhan. His heart wanted him to, as it was currently cracked into a million tiny pieces, the likes of which weren’t going to be put back together if Sehun had anything to say about it. He wanted to haven ever met Luhan, never have trusted or believed him, and therefore never have loved him.

But what would mean never having made Youri. She wasn’t in his life yet, but he loved her more than that life itself. Never meeting Luhan would mean never creating her.

In the darkness of the room Sehun curled into himself a bit more. His anger was completely gone now. Only sadness was left.

Something in the shadows moved.

“Sehun.”

Was it terrible that Sehun was unsure who’s side Suho would be on? Suho claimed constantly that they were family, and Sehun usually felt that way as well. But Suho also had a strong, oddly unwavering friendship with Luhan. Suho and Luhan had bonded long before Sehun had tried to take responsibility for his one night stand with Luhan.

“Did Chen tell you?”

A weight settled next to Sehun. “He did.”

“Okay.” What more could he say? What more was there to say?

Suho’s heavy hand settled on his back. “I called Luhan.”

Sehun wanted to roll his eyes. “Of course you did. To listen to his excuses. To forgive him.”

“No,” Suho said roughly, startling Sehun. “That’s not it at all. Sehun … don’t for a second think that Luhan is more important to you to me. Sehun, have you been thinking that?”

Sehun couldn’t bring himself to answer that. “Why did you call him?”

With a loud sigh, Suho said, “I only asked him one thing. I asked him if it was true what you were claiming. I asked him if there was paperwork in his possession that would take away your rights to the baby, and if he ever planned on using it.”

“Since you haven’t tried to pull me towards the door, and you haven’t been harping on me to listen to Luhan, you must have gotten the same answer I did when I called him on it.”

Suho said, his face still masked in the darkness of the room, “He said yes. That was all I needed to know.” Then more of Suho’s weight was falling on top of Sehun and he said, “I’m so sorry I pushed you towards him. I didn’t know he was this kind of person. I didn’t know he would try to hurt you like this.”

“You weren’t pushing me towards him. You were pushing me towards that baby, and that’s the only good thing that came out of this. Because of you, Suho, I was able to love Youri.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m so scared I’m going to lose her.”

Suho’s hand rubbed soothingly across Sehun’s back. “Sehun, how well do you know me? I am not going to let anyone take your baby from you, not if it’s within my humanly power. I already scheduled a meeting with a friend of mine who’s a lawyer. We’ll go tomorrow and figure out what our options are.”

“Sehun?” This time it was Chen’s voice, but from across the room. “It’s getting late. It’s almost midnight. Do you want to stay here with me for the night? Or do you want to go with Suho?”

All of the sudden Sehun thought of how awkward things were about to become for Chen. Chen and Luhan were friends, but Chen was also getting married next year to Luhan’s doctor. Luhan’s doctor was Xiumin’s sister, and Xiumin was Luhan’s best friend. Everyone was twisted up in everyone. Sides were going to be taken no matter what. Would the woman Chen wanted to marry be caught in the middle? Would she take Luhan’s side? Something told Sehun she would. And then where would that leave Eunji and Chen? And by default, Chen and Sehun?

“I’m going home,” Sehun announced.

Chen scoffed, “To sit in your empty house and let your thoughts consume you?”

Sehun sat up, ignoring Chen’s words. “I need to get my presentation ready for work tomorrow, and there are still boxes to unpack. I need to … guys, I appreciate you. I know what you’re doing for me here, supporting me and trying to make me feel better. But I want to be alone right now. It had nothing to do with feeling sorry for myself. I just want some time.”

With Suho’s hand at Sehun’s elbow, the man said slowly, “Okay. I understand.”

Sehun must have driven around for at least an hour after leaving Chen’s place. He drove aimlessly, trying to distract himself with the colors of the nightlife around him. But eventually he had to go home. Eventually he had to face reality.

He tossed his keys into the basket by the door the moment he entered, then stretched to pop his muscles. Chen’s sofa had been soft, but it hadn’t been the most comfortable ever. Sehun was a little achy, if not so tired anymore.

Side stepping a series of boxes of the floor, Sehun padded deeper into the house, flipping on lights and heading towards the living room.

Luhan’s painting.

That was all Sehun could see.

Standing in the center of the living room, Sehun’s eyes were full of the painting that Luhan had made for him. The stretched canvass that Sehun had found so beautiful weeks ago was now such an ugly reminder now. Was this how indepth Luhan had been willing to take his lies? He’d painted for Sehun to win him over, and now the painting represented everything that was wrong at the moment.

With anger and aggression creeping under his skin, Sehun reached for the painting hanging on the wall over the fireplace. He ripped it down and pressed his fingers down onto the edges, warping the canvas.

He hated it. He hated how beautiful he still found it. He hated how it reminded him of the person he’d thought Luhan was. He hated everything about it.

He put his foot through it. His fingers pulled at the edges as his foot dug through the canvas, and in a matter of seconds he’d demolished it. When only the frame was left he tossed it to the side, watching it clatter into pieces and become nothing but trash.

It didn’t make him feel any better, not like he’d thought it would.

He found himself making his way to Youri’s nursery. He burst through the door and looked at the still packaged furniture littering it, the room utterly unfinished.

If Luhan had had his way, Youri would’ve never seen the inside of this nursery.

And how stupid had he been, playing right into Luhan’s hands, suggesting that the baby stay with him exclusively for the first six months? Maybe Luhan couldn’t go back to China just yet, but there were a million other places he could disappear to in six months.

Sehun just didn’t understand why. He’d done right by Luhan. He’d gotten involved, and then gone even further by transforming himself once more into a man who could be a father. He’d taken care of Luhan when he needed it, flown to China for him, worked hard to introduce all their friends, and been willing to essentially hand over their baby for six months for her sake. He didn’t deserve to be hurt so badly now. Was this his reward for trying once more?

Eventually he left the nursery for his bedroom and sunk onto his bed. He’d slept for a good four or five hours at Chen’s. He wasn’t that tired at all. He was only weary, and suddenly it didn’t matter that he wasn’t sleepy. He laid down anyway, closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. Sleep came eventually.

In the morning, the smell of eggs and rice work him.

“What the hell is going on?” Sehun asked when he maneuvered himself downstairs, only to find his kitchen completely full of people.

Chanyeol was at the stove, which accounted for the wonderful smell in his brand new kitchen, but everything else was a mess. There were empty packing boxes everywhere, which made sense because he now had a full set of dishes on the table. The countertop was covered in cooking ingredients, and even if Sehun was already looking forward to eating whatever Chanyeol was cooking, the number of dirty pans that were going to be left over in the sink, he wasn’t touching no matter what.

At the nearby dinning table, each with different portions of the morning paper, Kai and D.O. gave him matching waves for greetings.

Chanyeol, with an apron tied around his waist, said, “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“What’s going on?” Sehun asked as Suho drifted past, in a full suit, a mug of coffee in hand.

It was Baekhyun, looking stone-faced and even a little hurt himself, who said, “Isn’t this what friends do when someone they care about is screwed over royally?”

Sehun crossed his arms. “Invade said friend’s kitchen and make a mess?” He was too groggy still to admit that he was a little ashamed everyone already knew what a fool he’d been. They weren’t the type to judge him for it, but it was hard to handle all the same. He didn’t need looks of pity or even sympathy.

“Don’t be an ungrateful jerk,” Chen said from where he was seated at the barstool. He reached over and pinched Sehun’s arm.

“Eat up,” Suho said, moving to sit next to Kai at the table. “And deal with the fact that your friends are going to make sure you’re okay. Be thankful.”

Quietly, Sehun said, “It’s not the same.”

With a frown, Chanyeol turned from the stove and asked, “What isn’t?”

“Luhan hurting me like this,” Sehun said. He took a seat at the table where the side dishes were mostly already laid out, the sheer number of them blanketing the table. Chanyeol was certainly a comfort cooker. “It’s not the same as when Jae died. I still hurt. A lot. But it’s not the same kind of hurt.”

Darkly, Suho said, “You shouldn’t have to hurt at all.”

Sehun cleared is throat. “My point is, I understand why you guys essentially put me on suicide watch after Jae and Seoyoung died. It’s not the same now. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m sure as hell not leaving my daughter in the hands of someone like Luhan.”

Baekhyun looked only angrier as he snapped, “This isn’t that.”

“We’re not here to babysit you,” Chen agreed. “We’d do this for any one of us who needed it. And something tells me, you need us.”

He needed the company, Sehun was willing to admit. Even a few months ago he’d been happy enough to sit alone in his home, with only the silence for company. Now things were different. He was coming alive again, and the silence was suffocating.

“Food’s ready!” Chanyeol announced, and then he was delivering a series of huge pots of delicious smelling and looking food for their consumption.

Before Sehun could utter another word, there was a bowl of rice in front of him and D.O. was portioning strips of kimchi on top.

“Eat,” Suho urged, concern so easy to see on his face. “You have to go to work soon, and I’m taking you to see the lawyer afterwards.”

Next to Sehun, Kai froze. “Lawyer?’

In a decidedly unarguable way, Chen said, “Luhan planned to take Youri from Sehun. Sehun is going to return the favor.”

Sehun gave them all a fierce look. “I lost one daughter, I’m not going to lose a second.”

Youri would stay with Luhan over his dead body, and there was nothing Sehun wouldn’t do to take her from him when she was born. Nothing.

Chapter Text

It was the most staggering fear he’d ever felt in his life, the moment he’d realized the cramping in his stomach for what it was. His legs had given out, the pain had been undeniably horrendous, and he’d just barely been able to call for an ambulance.

Now, two full days later he was still just as terrified.

He didn’t want to move or do anything, for fear of the cramping starting once more, cramping that meant contractions.

“Luhan, sweetie?”

Facing the wall in the bed furthest to the back of the room, Luhan prayed that Eunji would think he was sleeping. Maybe she’d leave him alone then, and wouldn’t come prying for answers.

With a tightness to her voice, she said, “Minseok ruined your trick for you. He said you’re a restless sleeper. You’re too still to be asleep now, especially since we have you off the heavier medication. I need to talk to you about your discharge paperwork.”

It took some effort with his stomach as big as it was to roll back towards her, but eventually Luhan managed it. “You’re releasing me?”

With a comforting smile, she said, “Your contractions stopped yesterday so I think it’s safe to say we’re out of the woods with you for now. Doctor Song is pressuring me to free up this bed, so I’m going to send you home with orders to rest and relax and do nothing strenuous for the next eight weeks.”

Ever since he’d been put on the medication to try and stop his labor, Youri had been suspiciously quiet inside of him. Her movement had slowed, she’d been less aggressive, and it almost seemed like she was sleeping though the night now. That was scarier to Luhan than the cramping itself, because every moment he couldn’t feel her meant his mind was imagining something so terrible that he would break from the outcome.

“Luhan,” her soft fingers touched his wrist right above the medical bracelet he wore. “I know you’re still scared, but you’re going to be okay. You haven’t felt a contraction in over a day. You’re at a higher risk now for premature labor, which is something we don’t want, but at the moment, it’s very possible that you can and will carry to term.”

Voice at a whisper, Luhan said, “I’m scared to just move. I just want to lay here as still as possible and pray she’s okay.”

“Do you think I’d let you go home, Doctor Song’s complaining or not, if I thought you and the baby were in danger?”

“No,” Luhan admitted. “But she’s so quiet now. I don’t feel her move for so long now.”

“It’s the medication we gave you to stall out the contractions,” Eunji said, patting his stomach lightly. “It made your girl a little dopey, that’s for sure, but she’ll be back to normal in a couple of days. This time next week you’ll be wishing she wasn’t attempting to destroy your kidney single handedly.”

That seemed doubtful. This time next week Luhan was planning on just being thankful she hadn’t been born two months premature, and that she was still tucked safely away inside of him.

“But we need to talk before I can release you,” she said, all business. “You need to cut all the stress from your life right now. If it becomes too much, the cramping might start again and our chance of getting it to stop will be low. That means, as much as I’m sure you’ll detest this, nothing but relaxation. In fact, for patients who are in your condition, I like to suggest vacations.”

“A vacation,” Luhan scoffed. That was the last thing on his mind.

“To the ocean for a few days?” the doctor suggested. “Or maybe the spa? The point is, Luhan, you need to keep yourself and this baby happy by keeping your blood pressure down. And on the list of things you can’t do, there’ll be no more climbing of stairs, or lifting anything over a pound. This is very serious, Luhan. We have to take every precaution now.”

With a sigh, Luhan said, “I understand.” He didn’t know how he was going to pull it off, but he understood. And nothing was more important than protecting his baby.

“I take it there’s a reason why Minseok has been glued to your side, along with your other friends, but a certain someone has been suspiciously absent.”

An aching and longing pain struck at his heart then. “Sehun and I … we …”

“Problems?” Eunji asked, and now she was his friend, not his doctor. Luhan could spot the difference immediately. “I could tell something was wrong with Chen the last few times I spoke with him, but he’s been suspiciously tight lipped. The same for Minseok.”

It was better to just say it and be done with it, so Luhan told her, “Sehun and I can’t make things work between us. We tried but … things happen.”

For days after Sehun had found the paperwork, Luhan had tried to explain. He’d tried everything, short of stalking Sehun, and to no avail. He’d been desperate to tell Sehun that the paperwork was a relic of past. It was Kris who’d thought he’d need it, and Luhan had put it out of his mind. It was paperwork that had only been intended to be used if that was what Sehun had wanted.

Luhan would never have tried to take the baby from him. In fact, all Luhan had ever wanted was to know that Sehun was going to be there for Youri, and love her and be her father.

Sehun had reached the wrong conclusion with what he’d found, and then he’d blown up spectacularly, not giving Luhan a second to explain. He’d been so sure Luhan was a villain of some sort, then he’d been irrational, loud, and uncompromising.

He’d scared Luhan more than a little.

But even worse than that was how quickly the others had turned on him. He’d expected angry, uncertain people to start ringing up his phone at all hours of the day, demanding answers. He was counting on it a little, since Sehun wouldn’t talk to him. He hadn’t expected the vicious accusations, or the idea that people who had been so welcoming to him only a week earlier, could now be a threat to him and his baby.

Suho’s reaction had hurt him the most. When Sehun hadn’t been ready to be there for them in the beginning, Suho had. He’d always helped Luhan and supported him. He’d always had kind words and kinder actions. He’d been a big brother of sorts, and at the very least a good friend. Now he was an accusing voice across the phone line, and gone was Luhan’s friend.

“The two of you are just taking a break?” Eunji asked.

“No,” Luhan replied. “We’re done for sure.”

It was so clear, the moment in his mind when he’d felt the first cramp. He’d been standing in his living room, holding in his hand a piece of paper that would destroy him.

“You’re going to be okay,” Eunji said, and she carded her fingers lightly through his hair in a comforting way that a mother would. “You’re going to be just fine, Luhan.”

Luhan really didn’t think it.

While Eunji went off to get the discharge paperwork started, Luhan dressed as slowly as he could manage. The hospital room he’d been staying in was filled with other patients and family members, but Luhan ignored them all. He concentrated instead on doing up the buttons on the front of his shirt with shaking fingers.

“So I’m here to spring you,” a deep voice said. “Actually, we all are.”

There were tears pricking in his eyes when he spied his best friends near the doorway.

“You didn’t all have to come,” he said, looking from face to face.

Once more, Kris spoke, saying, “Are you kidding me? We had to. Especially since your visitors were limited up until now and besides Xiumin, none of us could get in here to see you.”

It was true that for the first day he hadn’t been able to see anyone. He’d been in a private room then, too. But that had been back when Eunji and the other doctors were debating about whether or not his contractions could be stopped. The way he heard it, he’d come very close to delivering on the first day. And then after that Luhan just hadn’t wanted to see anyone. The panic and fear had been too thick.

Luhan held up a socked foot. “Can one of you help me get my shoes on?”

Tao darted down to help and Lay said gently, “Are you feeling well enough to leave?”

“Ready,” he said, even if it was a lie. “Where’s Xiumin?” He was the only one missing.

“I’m here,” Xiumin said with perfect timing. He had a couple of jingling keys in his hand. “I had to park the car.”

Luhan eased himself onto his feet with Tao’s help, standing as slowly as he dared. Part of him was convinced the contractions would start again the moment he was on his feet. He’d already gotten the bedrest talk from his doctor. He wasn’t officially on it yet, she was clearly saving that for the ninth month, but for now if he had any pain or even the tiniest hint of cramping in his stomach, the rest would be enforced.

“Come on,” Xiumin said, reaching a hand out for him. “Let’s get you out of here.”

It was a little jam packed with all five of them in Xiumin’s car, but it was oddly calming. Luhan was able to relax in the front seat and be lulled gently by Tao talking about his new semester at the university, Kris filling in the silence with the trip he planned to make to Canada before the end of the year, and both Lay and Xiumin commenting appropriately. It wasn’t enough to get rid of the sting that Luhan felt when he thought about how things had gone so disastrously with Sehun, but for the moment, he was at ease.

They drove to Xiumin’s home, which was really his parent’s, but Luhan could scarcely remember seeing them there. They often traveled, spent most of the year out of the country, and that gave Xiumin the illusion of living alone. In that regard, Luhan knew Xiumin was as lonely as Luhan now felt. It was something that made them kindred spirits.

They got takeout, watched a few movies, and Luhan was continuously reminded that his best friends were all that mattered. Not Sehun who hadn’t been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt or even listen to why he had the paperwork. And not Sehun’s friends who’d turned on him as if they didn’t owe him any kind of respect.

“You’re staying with me,” Xiumin said when he and Luhan were alone in the kitchen. Luhan was holding himself gingerly, trying not to look awkward about it while Xiumin collected the trash from their meal. Back in the living room Luhan could hear the rest of his friends laughing over something.

“Is that how you ask?”

“I’m not asking,” Xiumin said plainly. “I know what my sister said. You can’t climb stairs anymore, or walk far distances, or lift anything. I’ve got more than enough room here, there are no stairs, I can help you with anything you need, and if you don’t want to stay here, then just give me one good reason why not. We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

Luhan pointed out, “This house is big, but I know how much you like your space.”

A grin settled on Xiumin’s face. “I like you better. Plus, I have a car for whenever you need somewhere to go. Luhan, don’t fight me on this. I need this peace of mind.”

It was terribly easy to see that Xiumin still had feelings for him. It was written all over his face. But it was also clear that this wasn’t about that. This was Xiumin simply being his best friend, and making a bad situation work for the both of them.

“All right,” Luhan said eventually. “Until the baby is born.”

A roar of laugher came from the other room once more and Xiumin said quickly, “It was Sehun, wasn’t it?”

Startled, Luhan asked, “It was what?”

Xiumin nodded towards his stomach. “It was that asshole who caused you to go into premature labor, right?”

For a while Luhan had struggled with how much to tell his friends about what had happened with Sehunn. In the end, he’d settled for telling them the absolute truth, from why he’d first acquired the paperwork, to how obsolete it had become. He told them how Sehun had found it, exploded, and refused to listen to an explanation. The only thing he hadn’t told them was what Sehun had threatened.

Now was the time, he supposed. At least Xiumin deserved the truth.

“Sehun … he …”

Luhan’s hands cradled his stomach. “I got something in the mail, the day I started cramping. It was from a lawyer that Sehun hired.”

Frowning, Xiumin questioned, “What the hell would he need a lawyer for? He clearly need a psychiatrist.”

“He’s going to try and take Youri from me.”

“What!” Xiumin demanded, and his voice was so loud and so angry that Luhan was worried it would attract the attention of the others. “What the hell?”

With a shaky nod, and a shakier voice, Luhan said, “The lawyer sent me a paper saying that once I have the baby I’m ordered to appear in court for a custody dispute. Sehun is suing for full custody with no visitation rights, and considering he’s Korean and I’m Chinese, I think he might get it.”

The moment he’d read the words, and realized what he had in front of him, breathing had gotten hard to do. A burning pressure had cut across his abdomen, and then he’d been falling.

“I’m not supposed to leave the country until she’s born,” Luhan continued. “Not until they can take the baby.”

“That’s bullshit,” Kris announced from the doorway, and it seemed like Xiumin’s explosion had attracted attention after all.

Xiumin asked, “Can he actually do that? Kris, you’re practically a lawyer. Can he fucking do that to Luhan?”

Luhan took a seat nearby at the island bar and rested his elbows up on the countertop as Kris said reluctantly, “Anyone can sue for custody.”

His head throbbing with a headache to come, Luhan said, “He’s just trying to do to me what he thought I was doing to him.”

“But you weren’t doing that to him,” Xiumin cut back. “This asshole is crossing a line.”

“I don’t think he cares,” Luhan huffed out. “He thinks I stabbed him in the back, so now he’s going to try and get at me the only way he knows how.”

But Luhan wasn’t giving up his baby. He wasn’t going to be separated from her. That was all he knew. It was unclear how he was going to manage that, or how he was going to protect their little family, but he would do it. He wouldn’t give her up. He wouldn’t let anyone take her from him.

“We’re going to file a counter motion,” Kris said right away, sounding authoritative. “We’re going to fight this, Luhan. He won’t get full custody. He might be a Korean citizen, but we’ve got enough information on him to discredit him. I know the best lawyer in Seoul who owes me a favor, and we’re going to counter sue for full custody.”

So what was the best case scenario? They ended up tied to lengthy litigation for the next five or six years? Who’d have the baby during all that? Luhan had a suspicion the courts would play favorites to Sehun and grant him at least temporary custody.

“What are you going to do?” Xiumin asked quietly.

“What do you mean what is he going to do?” Kris snapped back. “I just told you, we’re going to--”

Xiumin flicked Kris hard on the shoulder. “Luhan, what are you going to do about the man who’s planning on taking Youri from you?”

Laying in the hospital, praying he didn’t have to deliver or worse, miscarry, Luhan had had only time to think about what Xiumin was asking.

“He thinks I’m a monster,” Luhan said softly, rubbing against his stomach. “He thinks, despite everything I’ve shown him, that I’m a person who would take the most precious thing from him. Maybe I am that person after all.”

He’d thought Korea was safe. He’d thought that there was a future for him in Korea with people he cared about and who cared for him. It was looking less and less like it was the case now.

With a pale face, Xiumin asked, “Can you go back to China? Is there anything for you there?”

“China?” Kris asked in a startled way.

“There’d be protection against Sehun and his lawyer,” Luhan admitted. “The government would never allow a Chinese child to be taken by Korea, and China will consider Youri to be a citizen of her nation. In China, I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone showing up in the middle of the night to steal my daughter away.”

But he’d be so lonely in China. And while the fear of Sehun taking his baby might dissipate, there’d always be the fear that his parents would find him. He’d be within their reach in China, and if they ever found out he was there, there’d be danger again.

“If that’s what you want to do,” Xiumin said, not at all saying the words Luhan expected, “I will personally drive you to the airport. I won’t let him get your baby either, Luhan. I won’t let him take her from you, not when he didn’t want her in the first place.”

“You come down to my work tomorrow no matter what,” Kris insisted. “We have to start the counter paperwork immediately. At the very least it’ll buy you some time and space. If you think you need to go back to China, it won’t look like you’re planning that at all. It’ll seem like you want to stay and fight.”

Luhan curled forward a bit more, bracing his forearms fully on the bar top and groaning out, “Paperwork is what got me into this mess in the first place.” He clenched his eyes shut and wondered if that was really true at all. The paperwork had been more like the catalyst, but it wasn’t really the genesis of the problem.

“I’m sorry, Luhan,” Kris said quietly.

“Oh, Kris.” Luhan felt even more guilty. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry to make it sound that way.”

“I pushed for you to draw up the release of parental rights,” Kris said, face twisted up like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders all of the sudden.

“And,” Luhan argued back, “I knew it felt wrong from the beginning. But you didn’t force me. I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to. You’re not to blame. Don’t think you are for a second.”

Looking younger than he was, Kris said, “I don’t want you to go back to China. Seeing you and Youri will be next to impossible if you do.”

Xiumin crossed his arms. “Isn’t it better that they’re safe? And we can skype.”

It wasn’t the same, Luhan knew, but he appreciated the support all the same.

“I’m not deciding anything right now,” Luhan assured them.

With a silent nod Kris turned to head back to the living room.

“He blames himself,” Luhan concluded. “He shouldn’t.”

“No,” Xiumin agreed. “This is all on that asshole, Sehun.”

With somewhat of a grimace, Luhan requested, “Could you please not say you told me so? Could you please not?” The pain in his head was starting to get worse and he was absolutely certain he was going to have to lie down soon.

Before Luhan knew it, Xiumin was sitting next to him, asking, “Do you really think I’m that petty?”

“I think you didn’t trust him from the start and this is only validation for that.”

Kindly, Xiumin shook his head. “This isn’t about who’s right or not. There’s no validation here. There’s just me looking at my best friend who’s hurting and scared. That’s all I care about.”

Quietly, and the only time that Luhan knew they’d talk about it, Luhan said, “If I could make myself have feelings for you, I would. You are amazing, Xiumin. You’re not just my best friend, but you’re the person I trust the most in this world.”

The smile on Xiumin’s face was sad after that. “I wouldn’t want your love if you had to make yourself feel that way.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Luhan said.

“I know,” Xiumin chuckled.

With sudden seriousness, Luhan reached for Xiumin’s hand and said, “I won’t let Sehun take my daughter. I won’t let him have her and then just cut me out of her life. If I have to, I’ll be the monster he thinks I am. I’ll take Youri and I’ll run. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her with me. I’ll even risk my parents to not lose her, because if I do … if someone takes her from me Xiumin …”

“Aren’t I your best friend?” Xiumin asked. “Don’t you believe the words I tell you?” Luhan nodded. “Then no matter what, know that I won’t let that happen.”

The truth was, for as scary as Sehun and his lawyer were, Luhan absolutely believed Xiumin.

“I think about running,” Luhan admitted, feeling wretched for contemplating doing the same to Sehun that he’d said he would never. “I think about raising Youri and constantly looking over my shoulder and never feeling at peace for as long as I live. What would I tell her when she’s old enough to start asking questions? How could I tell her that I stole her away from a father who wanted her? And then I think about what it’ll do to Sehun. He already lost one daughter. I’m going to steal the second?”

Angrily, Xiumin asked, “How can you even care about what that asshole thinks?”

The words were so painful but so easy to say. “Because I love him.”

There was open disgust on Xiumin’s face. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“I hate him too,” Luhan said, trying to be honest. “I’m disappointed in him, upset, worried, and so much else, but that doesn’t stop me from loving him. I can’t just turn the love off like that, you should understand.”

“He’s the guy trying to take your daughter from you.”

“And before that?” Luhan replied. “Before that he was someone who made me feel safe. He was my hero when I needed him, and just believed in me when I needed that, too. He tried so hard and made mistakes, but he loved me back, and better than that, he openly loved Youri. He was someone who was a shinning example of survival in the face of adversity, and I couldn’t help falling in love with him. Now I’m filled with all these conflicting emotions.”

Xiumin argued back, “He doesn’t love you. He wouldn’t do this to you if he did.”

“He wouldn’t do what I’m thinking of doing to him? I love him, Xiumin, and I want to be selfish and hurt him in the worst way to save myself. That’s not right, right?”

“This isn’t the time to be altruistic.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Luhan asked flatly. “It’s just hard to consider destroying the father of my daughter to save myself.”

It was worse to know he was likely going to do it. He couldn’t fly in his ninth month, and it was risky even in his eight, but he was pulling more and more towards China.

If only Sehun would talk to him. If Luhan could just explain and they could communicate, Luhan was certain the mood between them could be better. He didn’t know if they could ever go back to where they’d been, but they could be in a better spot than they currently were. Luhan refused to believe that Sehun wanted to fight with him like this and use their baby to hurt each other.

“Tao said his roommate is dating some guy in the mafia.”

“Huh?” Luhan jerked out of his thoughts and turned to Xiumin. “What?”

“The Korean mafia? Tao’s roommate Kibum, goes by Key, is apparently dating some guy name Jonghyun who’s rumored to be mafia. Tao asked me to remind you that, and that Tao apparently had wracked up a few favors with him. If we need to call one in …”

Luhan shot him a dirty look. “We’re not using the Korean mafia to kill the father of my baby.”

“Maybe not kill,” Xiumin allowed. “We could just rough him up a bit. Make him back off.”

“We’re not getting involved with the Korean mafia,” Luhan said definitively.

Xiumin said with a smile, “I’m just leaving it out there. For future consideration.”

Luhan pinched his arm. “No consideration. Now come on, I bet everyone is going to leave soon, so let’s go be with them for a while longer.”

Luhan pulled himself up to his feet and felt Youri flop a bit around, sending ripples of sensation across his stomach. It was comforting in ways it had never been before.

So he was staying with Xiumin. That seemed nonnegotiable, and Luhan was too scared to refuse and risk causing something catastrophic by climbing his stairs endlessly. And it wasn’t as awkward as he’d first assumed it might be. Xiumin lived almost in the heart of Seoul, which meant Luhan had access to anywhere he might need to go. And with Xiumin working long hours during the day, it was almost like living on his own.

He tried to spend his days with his friends, packing in as much time with them as he could, just in case. The coffee shop was his home base, and the table at the biggest bay window was almost exclusively his by reservation. He could sit there for hours at a time watching the people pass by on the street.

That was how he spotted Wei.

Rather, it was how Wei spotted him.

One moment Luhan was sketching idly at the edge of his napkin, envisioning color pallets as he waited for his drink to arrive with pastry in hand, and the next he heard the door to the coffee shop jingle. He looked indistinctively, hoping it was Lay who’d promised to drop by around noon, or Tao who always had a break from his classes around this time.

Instead he saw a walking nightmare heading directly towards him.

His body tensed almost painfully, Luhan said as evenly as he could manage, “You’re a fool if you think you have any power in this country. This isn’t China. You can’t make me go anywhere with you.”

So why was it that he felt helpless all of the sudden? He wasn’t someone helpless naturally, or in need of rescue. But he would have given anything for Sehun in that moment. Even if Sehun hated him, and was trying to hurt him on purpose, he’d still be a wall between Luhan and Wei. He’d do it for Youri.

“You should turn around now,” Luhan said, his eyes skirting past Wei to his friend Sungjong who was working at the cash register. He met his gaze quickly, in a panicked way, and then added, “I mean it when I say you have no power here, and there are half a dozen people in this very shop who will stop you if you even try to touch me.”

Sehun would have been the best line of defense, but it was true that Luhan had many friends in the shop at the moment. More than a couple of them would come to his aid if he made any indication of needed help.

And still he was scared of Wei. Or maybe just what Wei represented.

He was prepared for some sharp witted, but ultimately cruel comment from Wei. He was ready for any move the man made to try and force him to leave. He was not comprehending of how Wei gave him a sad smile, lowered himself to his knees, and then bowed forward to press his forehead to the ground in a severe show of respect.

“Wei?” Luhan asked, his voice more like a whisper than anything else.

“Han,” Wei said, his voice muffled by his position. “I come to you humbly, and with no pride left as a man to beg your forgiveness for how I have wronged you.”

This was absolutely the last thing Luhan had ever expected.

“Wei.”

“I am not deserving of your forgiveness,” Wei continued, drawing more than a few eyes to them, “but I beg for it regardless. I will place myself in your debt from this moment on. I will--”

“Get up off the floor,” Luhan said a little snappishly. “And stop groveling. You’re making a scene.”

Wei looked up at him with tears in his eyes and Luhan felt more than a little regretful for how impatient he’d been.

“Han?”

Luhan gestured to the seat across from him. “Recover your pride as a man. Sit with me.”

It took some coaxing before Wei was willing to raise himself from the floor, and even then he was having trouble meeting Luhan’s gaze. He looked completely different from the man who’d tried to trap him into marriage not so long ago.

“I take it you’re not here under orders from my parents?”

At the question, Wei finally looked up, hands twisting a bit on top of the table. “No.”

“Then can I ask why you’re in Korea?” Luhan was feeling less threatened by the second.

Wei gave him another sad smile. “I came to beg your forgiveness, Luhan. I came to admit my shame.”

Daring to hope, Luhan posed, “You thought about what I said to you at the airport, didn’t you?”

Wei’s head dipped in confirmation. “I … I went home after you left and I looked at myself in the mirror. It was hard to do. I never realized until now how hard it was to look at myself in the mirror and see what kind of man I’ve become.”

“What did you see?” Luhan asked. Sungjong was making his way quickly to the table, Luhan’s carrot juice in hand. He asked if everything was fine as he delivered it, and Luhan was sure to nod firmly. “Fine, thanks.”

“I saw a coward,” Wei answered promptly, “and a bully. I saw someone who’s heart had been clouded by duty, but not honor.”

After a minute of silence, Luhan asked, “Do you remember when we were kids?”

The next time Wei smiled, it wasn’t so sad. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot, lately. My family’s name made it so I had a lot of people vying for my attention frequently. But you were my only real friend. You were the only one who actually knew me.”

“We’d wait all day for school to get out,” Luhan reminded, these memories a beacon of light for him in a sea of trauma. “And then we’d go down to the river, take off our uniform coats, and sit out for hours at a time. Our parents hated it, but it was something they couldn’t take away from us no matter how hard they tried. We got to have that time to ourselves.”

“They probably hoped we’d use the time to make out or something,” Wei pointed out with a tiny laugh. “They only let us go because they thought we might fall in love with each other and that would make things easier for them.”

Luhan ignored that statement. Wei had been a brother to him for so many years, and forever a friend, but never more than that.

“I’d paint,” Luhan stated, almost able to remember the sun on his face, the blueness of the river, and the way the air had smelled in the summer. “I’d sit there for hours and just paint, and you’d write, scribbling out your thoughts and story ideas. And then once in a while I’d get lucky.”

“Lucky?” Wei questioned.

Luhan nodded. “If you were in an especially good mood, you’d read some of what you’d written to me. You never thought it was very good, but I’ll tell you now that it was the best part of those days. You wrote with conviction and heart, and those were the times I knew for certain you were meant for things better than the job your father currently held.”

“I miss being that person,” Wei sighed out. “You made me realize that sometimes you have to wake up and change your priorities. You have to fight to be who you want to be, and you have to risk everything to succeed. You fought in China, Han. I want to fight now.”

Curious, Luhan asked, “What do your parents think of all this? They can’t have been happy.”

Wei shrugged. “I guess I’m in the same boat as you now, Han. I told them I wanted to be a writer. For the first time in my life I was honest with them, and I said I was going to attempt to fulfill my dreams, no matter what they had to say about it. So my father kicked me out, and my mother renounced me.”

With sympathy, Luhan said, “I’m sorry, Wei. I know how important your family was to you.”

“It’s weird,” Wei said, looking almost boyish when he smiled now. “I think I just convinced myself that they were that important to me. Now that I’m out here on my own, I’m starting to realize that I shouldn’t have placed so much significance on a family that refused to support me, or let me be who I wanted to. I still love my parents, but I don’t need them anymore, and I kind of don’t want them.”

There were still remarkable things in the world, Luhan was reminded. People could still surprise.

“So you’re in Korea now?”

“Not for long,” Wei said with a chuckle. “I only came to apologize.”

Luhan frowned deeply. “You flew all the way to Korea from China to apologize to me?”

“You don’t think you deserve an apology, at the very least, for what I tried to do to you?” Wei asked.

“I think a phone call would have been more--”

Wei insisted, “I wanted to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. You showed me mercy at the airport, even if I didn’t realize what it was at the time. You were merciful in showing me what I’d become, and what I should have been instead. But more than that, before I tried to hurt you terribly, you were my best friend. You hid me from my father’s rage, loved me in place of my mother, and were the only brother I could have ever needed or wanted. You deserved to dear me beg.”

Reaching across the table, Luhan covered Wei’s bigger hands with his own and said, “If you and I are brothers, then you know I’m going to forgive you. Wei, I saw how unhappy you were in China. I saw how it was twisting you into someone you weren’t. I just want happiness for you. I don’t need you to apologize, I need you to be who you’re meant to.”

“We are brothers,” Wei said, sounding absolutely sure. “But I’m in your debt. Nothing will change that.”

Twenty minutes later Wei had a warm latte in front of him, Luhan’s juice was nearly gone, and Wei was saying, “I can see why you like Korea, but I don’t think this is the place for me.”

“No?” Luhan asked, and he’d been a little hopeful. “It could be, and the food is good here.”

“I have cousins in America,” Wei said, shaking his head slowly. “They’re distant cousins, not affiliated with the family anymore, but I’ve talked to a few of them recently. They’re going to let me stay with them for a while. I want to look at the schools in America. I went to the university for business management, like my father wanted. I’d like to go instead for writing now, if the chance is there. Maybe I’ll work for a while though, and improve my English. I already applied for a work visa.”

“You don’t plan on going home, do you?” Luhan hedged.

Wei challenged back, “Do you?”

A week ago Luhan would have answered an emphatic no. He’d have never even contemplated the idea. But now going back to China wasn’t such an impossible thought.

“Maybe I’ll join you in America,” Luhan said, sliding his fingers across the condensation of the glass in front of him.

“I’d like that,” Wei said happily, “but something tells me that’s not what your future has in store for you.”

“I don’t know what my future is anymore,” Luhan admitted. “I don’t have any clue how it’s going to turn out.”

Wei gave a slight nod. “I used to be scared of not knowing. If anything good came from my parents controlling my life, it was that I never had to worry what came next. I’m like you in that regard, Luhan. I don’t like the unknown. I like to see what’s ahead of me and anticipate it. I like predictability. But …”

“But now?”

“Now,” Wei allowed, “now I’m getting better at being okay with my future being murky. It’s scary for sure, and sometimes it makes my skin crawl, but it’s certainly keeping me on my toes. Once in a while, you need to learn how to think on your feet. That’s not a bad thing.”

Though Luhan supposed it was different for them. Wei was a bit older, but he wasn’t tied down with a baby on the way. He wasn’t trapped in the way Luhan now was.

“I wish you all the luck in the world,” Luhan said, reaching across the table for a hug when Wei announced he was leaving. “But you’re the kind of person who’s never needed luck, Wei. You make your own, and it’s something I’ve admired in you since we were kids.”

Wei hugged him tightly, the move certainly a farewell. “If you need me or anything, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be there for you, Han. And if you ever come to America, you’ll have a place to stay and family to welcome you, no questions asked.”

“Who was that?” Sungjong asked once Wei was pushing past the coffee shop’s doors and leaving out onto the cold Seoul streets.

Luhan nodded after him. “That was my best friend as a kid.”

“You looked scared when he came in,” Sungjong said cautiously.

“I was,” Luhan replied, his eyes glued to Wei until he vanished around a corner. “I forgot who he was for a short while. He reminded me.”

Sungjong shrugged, a little uncertain.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Luhan said, feeling as if his past had finally been settled, and now he could face his future completely. “Sometimes your friends become enemies, but eventually, the ones that are worth it, come back around as friends.”

Luhan thought of Sehun then, and what they were now. Then for the first time, had hope.

Chapter Text

Suho stood in the threshold to the bedroom with his arms crossed and a serious look to his face. Sehun did his best to ignore him, sitting on the edge of his bed, and freshly woken from the nap he’d taken. It seemed more frequently than he was wanting to admit, his late-night work sessions at the office were taking their toll. And now, with the stress of Luhan in his life, he was exhausted all the time.

“I’m sorry,” Suho said, looking unabashedly unimpressed, “if I gave you the impression that this is negotiable. Or rather, I’m sorry if you believed that you had a choice at all.”

Rubbing a hand across his forehead, Sehun complained, “I’m tried, Suho. Why are you here bugging me?”

He was irritable, and it wasn’t from wanting more sleep. It was more that he’d finally figured out his stance on Luhan. He’d spent the past couple of days coming to terms with the fact that his anger over Luhan had been steadily dropping off. The hurt was still there, tangible and ripe. It probably wouldn’t ever go away. But the anger? It was less and less now.

And there was guilt, too. He wasn’t sorry in the least bit that he’d confronted Luhan, but in his mind now was the way he’d made Luhan cry. Haunting him were Luhan’s pleas to talk, to listen, to stop yelling. Sehun had verbally attacked him, punched a dent into his wall, and Luhan had flinched in terror.

Sehun had made Luhan scared of him.

And how much worse of a monster was he now that he’d threatened to take the most precious thing in the world from Luhan? What sort of a man did that? An angry one, yes, but not the kind of man Sehun wanted to be. Sehun had lost a daughter. He’d lost his baby. He knew what that pain was and he knew how easily it was the kind of pain that made a man reconsider life. With one trip to the lawyer Sehun had all but guaranteed that Luhan would feel that.

It was all compounded by the fact that no matter how Luhan had hurt him, Sehun still loved him so much.

He loved Luhan in the way he’d thought he could never love another person after Jae, and there was no getting rid of the truth in his heart.

Was he so petty that he would hurt the person he cared the most for, under any circumstances? Apparently yes.

“Sehun?”

If there was blame in Sehun’s mind, it was on Suho. And that wasn’t even really fair, but it was how Sehun felt. Suho was the one who’d made it so easy for Sehun to sign his name on a paper that promised to rip Luhan’s heart out from his chest. Suho had encouraged it, maybe in some odd way trying to protect Sehun. Suho was the one who claimed that Luhan deserved no better, and berated himself constantly for being the first of them to accept him.

Suho hadn’t told him he was wrong to try and take Youri from Luhan, even though Sehun had known in his heart it was.

So what was he going to do now? He wasn’t ready to speak with Luhan yet, and even if he was, there was no way Luhan was going to be anything but hostile. Sehun had burned that bridge, and now he was trying to swim across a too strong stream of pain and hurt.

“I’m not going out,” Sehun said bluntly.

Suho looked even more determined in return. “It’s Kai’s birthday, and it’s tradition.”

Sehun had honestly forgotten about his friend’s birthday until Suho had shown up, ready to personally escort him.

“It’s a dinner,” Sehun said. “And no one wants me there anyway. I’ll just bring the mood down. So you go, tell Kai I’m not feeling good, promise him I’ve got an amazing birthday presents for him, and go away.”

“You’re a dumbass if you think I’m going to let you do this again.”

Sehun demanded. “Again.”

“Look,” Suho sighed out. “I know it’s downright shitty that you got screwed over again. I know it seems like life is designed to be your personal bully. But I’m not going to let you fall into the slump that you were in when Jae died. That’s just it, Sehun. Jae died. Seoyoung died. Luhan, no matter my feelings for him at the moment, is still alive, and more than that, so is Youri. You need to be strong for her, for the coming months, and for the hailstorm of litigation that’s about to follow.”

Forgetting himself for a moment, Sehun said, “What we did was wrong.”

“Wrong?” Suho looked confused.

“Going to that lawyer,” Sehun managed. “How can I be a good father to Youri if I’m busy being a monster to Luhan?”

Suho asked, “Isn’t that very thing he was going to do to you?”

“Apparently.”

Suho took a step further into the room. “Do not feel bad that you’re doing what it takes to protect yourself and Youri.”

With a scoff, Sehun asked, “Is that what I’m doing? That’s not what it felt like I was doing when I signed that paper we sent to Luhan. That felt more like trying to get even.”

Looking less severe, Suho wondered, “You’re having second thoughts? You don’t want full custody?”

“I don’t want,” Sehun clarified, “to hurt the person I’m in love with. I don’t want to hurt him like I was hurt, because I love him. Do you understand? I want to be better than that. I want to not have to tell my daughter what a malicious prick I am when she finds out the truth, and I don’t want to get a call some day from Xiumin saying that something’s happened to Luhan because of all this.”

“That’s overdramatic,” Suho challenged.

“You sure about that?” Sehun responded. Suho wasn’t really able to understand, Sehun believed. He wasn’t a father. He didn’t have a child. He had a great capacity to love, but there was no comparison. “Do you know why I’m still alive?”

Startled, Suho blanched. “Sehun … you …”

He pressed on, “I’m still alive because I had dozens of family members, and more importantly a bunch of friends who considered themselves my brothers, watching me like a hawk. That’s the only reason I’m still breathing. Luhan has significantly less in that department. And with his parent’s recent betrayal, and the person who claimed to love him stealing the only thing worth living, you bet your ass I’m scared I’m going to get a phone call. I had a support system and barely survived. What’ll happen to Luhan?”

Suho gnawed down on his bottom lip in thought and said nothing.

Sehun said, “As Youri’s father, I can’t lose her. But neither should Luhan have to.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Suho asked.

His mouth was open to respond, though he wasn’t sure what kind of answer he had to offer Suho, when the sound of his front door slamming open echoed up the stairs.

“Who’s that?” Suho asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Baekhyun?” Sehun suggested. “Chen? I wouldn’t be surprised if someone thought you needed backup. I just wonder which of them got suckered into--”

“You piece of shit,” Kris said, shoving past Suho in such an aggressive way that Suho stumbled.

Sehun slammed up to his feet and demanded, “How the hell did you get in my house?”

Suho righted himself, breathing hard, and asked, “You have some nerve--”

Kris’s hand shot out, a key and chain dangling from a silver hook. “I stole Luhan’s key.”

Upon quick observation Sehun could see that it was the key Sehun had given Luhan to the new house, but it seemed so out of place in Kris’s grip.

“What are you doing here?” Sehun asked. He couldn’t see any reason for one of Luhan’s friends to be in front of him. “Unless you want to come yell at me and try to defend Luhan’s actions.”

Kris scoffed loudly. “You’re a piece of work, you know. You’re a total asshole, and unlike Xiumin, I actually tried to give you a chance in the beginning. You can imagine how I must be feeling now, to have all of my fears proven by your behavior.”

“My behavior?” Sehun laughed out hoarsely. “That’s hilarious. Tell me another one. Or better yet, how about you lecture me in defense of Luhan who tried to steal my baby out from under me.”

“You want me to get him out?” Suho said, appearing at Shun’s side.

“I dare you to try,” Kris said, face wrinkled in disgust. Then he turned back to Sehun and said, “Actually, I’m here to fix what you tried to break, you asshole. I’m not here to lecture you or say the things to you that your douche bag friends said to Luhan to make him cry.”

That startled Sehun into a feeling of dread. “What happened?”

Lavishly Sehun rolled his eyes. “Don’t play innocent. Wasn’t it expected that your friends would lash out at Luhan? I guess everyone saw it coming but Luhan, who actually cared about your friends and valued them. When they started leaving him horrendously rude voicemail messages and e-mails, what else was he going to do but be upset? And fuck you for not knowing that his hormones are out of control right now and he’s more than a little on edge.”

“My friends made Luhan cry?” Sehun said, flushing with shame. He looked quickly to Suho who shook his head almost frantically.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Kris pressed on. “I’m here because you’re a child. I’m here because you’re no more ready to be a father than I’m ready to be in charge of Korea.”

Suho intercepted, “I thought you said you didn’t come here to lecture him.”

At those words Kris seemed to pause, and compose himself. “I’m not. I’m here to speak for Luhan, however, because apparently, you won’t let him.”

“What have you got to do with anything that’s going on?” Sehun asked. But still he was distracted by the idea that the people he valued the most could have made the man he loved cry. Of course he’d expected them to be defensive, but he’d also expected them to act their age. No one had said anything about contacting Luhan, outside of Suho’s five minute phone call to him. No one had given any indication that they’d gone after the person Sehun would still lie down on a wire for.

Kris looked at him with what could only be described as contempt. “Because, you selfish child, the reason you’re mad at Luhan? It’s my fault. The reason you think he betrayed him? That was me.”

Suho started, “That paperwork Sehun found--”

“Was something I told Luhan he had to get,” Kris said smoothly, then he stopped and sighed deeply. “Do you have any idea that Luhan has been your biggest advocate since the first day? When he told us he was pregnant, we were all unhappy. We were all pissed off, actually. We thought he deserved someone much better than you, and I personally thought you were going to be the one to hurt him so badly he wouldn’t be the only undamaged one among us anymore.”

Slowly Sehun sank back into a seated position on the bed, his kness feeling weak.

“Luhan, from whatever Suho told him,” Kris said, gesturing towards Suho, “believed in you. And he knew your secrets. He could have told us what those were to make us understand a bit more, but he didn’t. He protected your secrets like they were his own and let us question him instead of you.”

Defensively, Sehun said, “Luhan isn’t some perfect martyr.”

“No,” Kris agreed. “God knows Luhan isn’t perfect, but he’s a better person than you’re giving him credit for, which is bullshit because you know him better than that. So my point is this, Luhan defended you and protected you from the start. He always had faith in you, even when I don’t think you did anything to deserve it, and all he wanted was to do what was best for you.”

“Best for Sehun?” Suho asked.

Kris nodded. “There was nothing more Luhan wanted than to have you, Sehun, step up and be a father. But he knew your history. He knew your loss. He knew that it maybe wasn’t something you were capable of doing, and he respected that as well. For him, that paperwork was insurance for you. It was a legally binding document that said you got a free pass. It was a means to an end for him that put all the responsibility on his shoulders and let you off the hook completely.”

“By taking full custody?”

Kris seethed, “You have no idea how much I want to punch you in the face right now.”

Suho took a menacing step forward. “This is where I dare you to try it.”

Ignoring Suho, Kris asked, “Did you even read past the first page of what you found? I’m thinking no, because if you had, or if you’d bothered to listen to Luhan, you’d now that the only way he was going to get full custody, was if you signed it away. He wasn’t suing for it, like you’ve decided to do for him. He was offering you to hand over custody so you could keep your life exactly like it was and not have to own up to your mistake. It also said that if you gave up custody and wanted to pretend like your dick hadn’t gotten the best of you, that Luhan couldn’t ever ask you for child support, or money of any kind, or get you involved with Youri at any point in her life. It said everything would be on him if you wanted it, but you had to want it.”

“I…” Sehun’s mouth was suddenly dry.

“You didn’t deserve an out,” Kris said, voice rising, “but Luhan wanted to give it to you. He wanted you to be able to put you first. And this is how you repay him?”

Sehun’s head dropped and he put his face in his hands, shoulders trembling.

“It was me,” Kris said much softer now. “I essentially made him get the paperwork drawn up. I tried to make him think badly of you.”

“What?” Sehun heard Suho ask.

Sounding closer, Kris’s voice rang out, “Luhan was willing to give you all the time in the world to ease into being a father, Sehun. He was still coping with the sudden fact that he was going to be a parent, but it was nothing he was going to try and trick or force you into. If you were ready for a baby in a year, he was going to be happy, and if it took ten, he could be patient. I was the one who told him he had to protect himself and his baby. I said that you couldn’t be trusted, and were probably some entitled asshole who might try to take his baby from him when he finally wised up to how amazing we all knew Luhan’s kid was going to be.”

Sehun rushed to defend, “I would never …”

“Sue for custody?” Kris said blandly. “No, of course not.”

Tensely, Sehun asked, “You tried to turn Luhan against me?”

“It was nothing personal,” Kris said honestly. “It just came down to the fact that I see Luhan as my little brother. I’ve known him almost the entire time he’s been in Korea, I knew about his shitty family before anyone else, even Xiumin, and I know he wears his heart on his sleeve. I had no idea who you were, other than apparently some guy who got him pregnant, wouldn’t be accountable for it, and had all the potential in the world to be the worst thing that happened to Luhan. I wanted to protect Luhan, so I told him you couldn’t be trusted. I told him to go against his gut instinct and have the paperwork drawn up.”

“For what purpose?” Suho inquired. “To spring on Sehun during a moment of weakness?”

Chuckling, Kris admitted, “Honestly? Yes. Only in my mind, however. Luhan would never have doing anything like that, but it was my hope that he’d see you at your lowest, feel sympathy for you, out of the kindness of his heart offer to take on the full share of the responsibility, and simultaneously put you out of the picture. Luhan would have seen it as doing a service for you, and that’s all I wanted to have him see it as.”

Voice wavering, Sehun pointed out, “But we made such progress. I tried my best to take responsibility. I tried to be what he needed from me. I …”

“And where did you find the paperwork?” Kris asked. “Shoved behind a stack of books somewhere? At that back of the closet? Somewhere Luhan must have forgotten about?”

Warily, Sehun nodded. “Underneath a bunch of other paperwork in his bedside drawer.”

With the first encouraging smile of the night, Kris said, “I’d be willing to bet my mortal soul that even after I had the paperwork drawn up, which I repeat Luhan was against from the start, he put it completely from mind. He must have tossed it to the side without a second thought, and never once thought about it once you showed the barest hint of interest in Youri.”

“Christ,” Suho eased out.

Kris added, “You’d know all this if you’d listened to what Luhan tried to tell you. You could have avoided all this hurt and anger and disappointment if you’d just stopped for a half a second and trusted him. Luhan trusted you. He trusted you to be a good father, and to learn from your mistakes. He trusted you to believe in him. He trusted that you wouldn’t do the shit you’ve done, and so he never once thought of taking advantage of you or doing what you thought he had. A less honorable man would have gotten you to sign those papers almost right away. But Luhan wanted better for his baby, and he wanted better for you. That’s why I’m here. That’s what I have to say.”

Suho was pale. Sehun could see the cold sweat breaking out at his hairline, and Sehun felt nauseous. He felt as if he was going to puke. He felt as if the ground swallowing him up and killing him wasn’t punishment enough.

He’d known better.

He should have known better.

“I have to apologize,” Sehun said frantically, choking on his own air as he struggled to breathe. “I have to--”

“You stay the hell away from Luhan,” Kris said, angry again, but more than that, fierce and furious. “You don’t go near him. If you do, there are four guys, myself included, who will rip you into tiny pieces.”

Desperately, Sehun pleaded, “Please, just let me--”

Coldly, Kris said, “You put him in the hospital.”

Sehun stopped breathing. “What?”

Kris’s eyes narrowed. “He got your letter in the mail, the one from your lawyer. He read all about how you were going to sue him for full custody, and take his baby from him, and that’s when the cramping started. By the time he called for an ambulance and got to the hospital, he was having full contractions.”

Sehun tried to pull himself onto his feet once more with a strangled cry, but his legs gave out immediately and he was crashing to the ground, his hands barely catching him in time.

“What happened?” Suho asked quickly from where he was frozen standing. “Is Luhan okay? What about Youri? It’s too soon for him to go into labor.”

There were tears in Sehun’s eyes then. “He’s not even eight months.”

Youri had just gotten her name.

Sehun’s fingers were digging vicously into the carpet of the bedroom when Kris said, “His doctor was able to stop the contractions.”

“Oh, god,” Sehun released. “Thank god.”

“He’s okay?” Suho asked, reaching a hand down onto Sehun’s back supportively. “They both are?”

“I said they got the contractions stopped,” Kris reminded, “not that Luhan’s okay. He’s now living with the fact that any amount of stress, at any moment, could make him go into labor again. And the next time getting it stopped is going to be next to impossible. He’s scared that he’s done something wrong, or hurt his baby somehow, and he’s downright terrified that something is going to happen to him or Youri before he can get her delivered safely.”

“I never meant to cause anything like this,” Sehun said like a blubbering idiot, feeling the wetness on his cheeks and the pressure in his nose. “I love Luhan. I love him so much, and I love Youri.”

Ruthlessly, Kris delivered, “Do you understand what would have happened if Luhan hadn’t been able to call for an ambulance? What if there’d been some delay in getting him to the hospital?”

Sehun let out a deep sob. He couldn’t lose Luhan and Youri. He couldn’t.

“It’s a high-risk pregnancy now,” Kris said, and his feet sounded with thuds on the carpet as he moved away to the doorway. “His blood pressure is climbing, and coupled with his blood glucose issues, we don’t know how smoothly or safely the rest of this pregnancy is going.”

“I have to see him,” Sehun begged, arms shaking as well now like they were going to give out on him next.

Kris insisted, “I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m done caring about you, Sehun. I’m letting you know because Luhan’s made it very clear to us that if we have to prioritize either him or the baby, it has to be the baby. That’s my friend telling me that if I have to let him die to save his daughter, then it’s what he wants. And here’s the kicker, if that happens, he wants me to make sure that Youri gets safely to you. He wants you, the man who’s trying to steal his baby, to have her.”

Sehun could hear Kris laugh darkly, but his heartbeat thundering in his ears was all he could concentrate on.

He’d put Luhan in the hospital. It was his anger and his pettiness that had almost cost Luhan his life and their baby’s. Sehun had … almost killed someone else he cared about.

With all the effort in the world, Sehun managed to sit back on his haunches. “I have to beg his forgiveness, Kris. I have to see him and beg.”

“I mean it,” Kris said, shaking his head. “You don’t go anywhere near him. He’ll see you in court after the delivery, unless something goes wrong. And if you try to get near him before that, I’ll willingly go to jail, if you understand what I’m saying.”

“I need to see him,” Sehun stuttered out. He had to verify that he hadn’t been the cause of yet another loss.

“This isn’t about you,” Kris said, “no matter how badly you want it to be. So leave Luhan alone. You’ll see him in court. Just tell your asshole friends to stop calling him and treating him like he did anything to deserve this. They’re stressing him out and that could lead to a miscarriage or premature labor. If you don’t get them to knock it off, I will.”

Without a word more Kris turn on heel and was gone, throwing to the carpet Luhan’s spare key.

It wasn’t as if Luhan needed it any longer.

“Sehun,” Suho said gently when they were alone, dropping to his side with such a thud it was telling. “Sehun, it’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not,” Sehun snapped back. “It’s not okay, and I fucking did this. I was me. I’m to blame.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Suho reasoned.

Through his tears, and ignoring his blurry vision, Sehun dragged in mouthful after mouthful of air. “I should have. Luhan would never have done this to me. I knew it from the start and still I …”

“You reacted like a normal human being.”

“No,” Sehun ground out, forcing himself to his feet. “I acted like the selfish child Kris just accused me of being. And so have my friends.” He was off after that, a little wobbly, but determined and dangerous.

“Sehun!” Suho called out, rushing after him. “What’s going on? Where are you going?”

Sehun remembered very little of the drive to Kai’s house. He could only hear Kris’s words echoing in his ears, and then suddenly he was in front of his friends, screaming at them, venting to them, accusing them as if they meant nothing to him.

“What did you expect us to do?” Baekhyun demanded, smashing his hands down onto the table top. “You are our friend, and we watched what happened to you with Jae and Seoyoung. Were we supposed to just sit around and let it happen with Luhan and Youri, too?”

“I am despicable,” Sehun yelled back. “I am trash for being so cold hearted to Luhan and misjudging him when I knew it wasn’t who he was. I understand where my blame lays. But you … all of you …”

Frightfully, D.O. put his hands up. “I never did anything to Luhan.”

With a glare, Kai said, “Who are you to be angry at us for acting in your defense?”

“I’m not a child who needs to be protected!” Sehun threw back at them, and he could feel Suho’s eyes and hot and heavy at his back, but thankfully the man remained silent. “And I can’t believe you guys. I can’t believe you’d say anything to Luhan who’s pregnant! Even if I was mad at him, he’s carrying my baby! What hurts him, hurts her.”

“I’m not going to be sorry for anything,” Baekhyun said sharply. “I trusted him. I started to like him. I thought I was wrong to be a shit to him at first. And then this?”

“Luhan,” Suho said finally, and in a weary tone, “didn’t do anything we thought he did.”

Mirroring wide eyes, Chanyeol asked, “What?”

With only the smallest bit of courage, Sehun was forced to nod. “I just found out. I was wrong. I was more than wrong. And now I have to be ashamed of myself, and of you. I have to grovel for my forgiveness, and for yours.”

Suho informed them, “Luhan was recently rushed to the hospital. He suffered cramping that became contractions. He and Youri are fine now, but there can’t be any additional stress in his life. There can’t be any more from you all. Luhan’s life and Youri’s may depend on it.”

Slowly, Baekhyun asked, “Luhan wasn’t trying to force you out of your parental rights?”

“No,” Sehun said, feeling the tears once again. “If anything he was trying to defend them. It was his friends who thought so poorly of me all those months ago, and who can blame them? Look at what I’ve done.”

Kai stood up quickly, his napkin going down on his plate. “I say we go over there right now and apologize.”

“You think an apology is going to fix everything?” Sehun asked.

An apology was likely to fix nothing. In fact, it might make things worse. If Sehun were Luhan, the last thing he’d want was to see the group of people who’d been so cruel to him.

“We have to try,” Chanyeol said. “Luhan--”

“He wants nothing to do with us,” Sehun said. “He just got out of the hospital. He’s dealing with me serving the legal system to him unfairly. He deserves to get what he wants, which is for me to keep my distance, minimize the damage I’ve done, and wait for him to be ready to hear my apology.”

That was the right thing to do.

But it was the last thing he wanted to. In fact he was barely restraining himself from driving over to Luhan’s home at that very minute and sitting on his knees in front of his door. He’d spent the next hundred years begging and pleading for forgiveness if Luhan would only look upon him, and a hundred more for that look not to be one of hatred.

And what would Youri think? She’d grow up thinking her father was … dirt.

“Leave Luhan alone,” Sehun rumbled, not caring the least if he’d ruined Kai’s birthday party. “Talk to him one more time, leave him any kind of messages, or hurt him in any way, and our friendship will be over.”

Suho didn’t follow him back to the car, and that was fine enough for Sehun.

When he arrived back at his house, stumbling his way through the front door, there was only one thing on his mind. One more terrible mistake.

He found himself in the small storage room on the first floor. Crammed inside, amidst the still unpacked boxes and token items that felt out of place in the new house, was the destroyed picture Luhan had painted for him.

He ran his fingers lovingly around the torn sides, and over the roughness of paint that conveyed to him all the love in the world. When Luhan had painted this, he’d loved Sehun. For one brief moment, there’d been mutual love, and even if it was gone now, he still had a token of it.

Into the night he worked to try and restore the painting. The open back of the canvass allowed for him to painstakingly line up all the shredded sides, working tirelessly to do his best to mend what he could. There was glue involved, and tape, and by the time the sun was coming up, the painting was still obviously ruined, but it was better than it had been hours earlier.

He took the painting up the stairs and to his bedroom, then put it carefully on the wall nearest the door.

Next to it was his dresser, and atop the dresser were his ultrasound pictures of Youri. More than that, tucked underneath his socks and his underwear, hidden away the moment he’d felt the sting of a betrayal from Luhan that he now knew to be false, were the pictures of himself and Luhan that had been taken over the past five months.

“Better,” he said the moment the pictures were liberated, scattered in with the ultrasound pictures.

But something was missing.

Sehun took a few steps back and looked across the photos.

It hit him a minute later what that something was.

It took some digging in his closet. It was almost embarrassing how much. But eventually he was tugging free a shoe sized box that contained framed pictures of his life before Luhan.

He wasn’t sure why, or how the time felt right, but something about his opinion of the photos was changing. He didn’t want to pretend they didn’t exist anymore. He wanted pictures of Jae and Seoyoung’s ultrasound shots to be next to Luhan and Youri. He wanted his family, past and future, to be together. And once the photos were mixed in, there was a sense of calmness and rightness.

For two days he managed to hold onto his sanity. For two days he kept his distance from Luhan, made no attempt to contact him, and had his lawyer discard every shred of evidence of his poor choices. He spoke little to his friends, looked too often at Luhan’s painting, and fretted constantly that something would go wrong with Youri and he’d never know it.

It was the worry that got to him at last, and made his decision for him.

Walking into the coffee shop that Luhan practically owned territorial wise, was akin to walking into prison as a police officer. There were dirty looks everywhere, a heavy atmosphere, and all the regulars, the ones who Luhan was close with, had to know to some extent that things had gone terribly wrong.

And he was almost convinced that he was going to be denied service as he purchased a water bottle and sat down in the corner.

There was no guarantee that Luhan was going to show anytime soon, or even when he did that he’d have anything to say, but Sehun was going to wait all the same. There was an itch under his skin to make sure Luhan and Youri were okay, and he couldn’t function properly without having it scratched.

“You’re wasting your time.”

Sehun looked over when he heard Tao’s voice.

Tao was the only one of Luhan’s friends that he hadn’t had much contact with. It had a lot to do with Tao’s age, and the fact that he was a student. But also with their conflicting personalities. It wasn’t that Sehun disliked him at all, they just didn’t know each other well.

“I know he won’t want to talk to me.” Sehun wondered if the way to start apologizing to Luhan was to begin with his friends. “I just want to see him. I heard about him being in the hospital. I know it’s not my right, and that I should stay the hell away from him, but I love him.”

“You have a nice way of showing your love,” Tao said, and to Sehun’s surprise, he sat himself across from Sehun. “I’ll never treat anyone I love the way you did Luhan.”

“That’ll make you a better person than me,” Sehun said bluntly.

Tao looked him over for a minute, then said, “I wanted to vandalize your property, and bust up your car. Luhan wouldn’t let me.”

“Thanks?” Sehun offered, confused.

“Luhan wouldn’t let any of us be mean to you. That’s how nice and awesome he is.”

Squeezing his water bottle, Sehun vowed, “I won’t hurt him again. I won’t say anything more or do things that hurt him. I give you my word. I just want to see that he’s okay with my eyes. I don’t care how long I have to wait.”

“It’ll be a while,” Tao said.

Sehun frowned. “Why?”

“Luhan left.”

“What?” He leaned forward, heart racing. “He left?”

Luhan had gone? Had Sehun really run him off? Was he coming back? Would he even have a reason to?

“I need to know where he is,” Sehun said, trying to keep roughness from his voice. “Tao, tell me where he is.”

Stubborness settled on Tao’s face. “I’m not supposed to. I think you know why.”

“He told you not to tell me,” Sehun guessed.

“No.” Tao gave him a shrug. “Xiumin told me not to tell you if you ever found out he’d gone away. We’re not supposed to let you anywhere near Luhan.”

Sehun shuddered. “Please, Tao. I did wrong by him so badly. I have to make things right. I have to see him. Tao. I may not have another chance.”

He needed just one moment to plead his case. If he could have one second to beg for Luhan to stay, and confess to him how wrong he’d been, how much he loved Luhan, and how he needed both Luhan and Youri in his life, it would be enough. Maybe it was asking too much, but he had to try.

He couldn’t let Luhan just disappear from his life.

Luhan was worth fighting to keep.

“Please, Tao. I love him.”

Tao leveled a finger up at Sehun reluctantly. “You have to swear to me you won’t hurt Luhan anymore. Not even on accident.”

“I swear,” Sehun returned, and it was the most he’d ever meant anything in his life. “No more hurting.”

A few seconds more and Tao said, “You also have to protect me from Xiumin when he finds out, and trust me, he will find out.”

He was so close. “I swear to you, Tao. I swear it.”

With a deep breath Tao said, “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Sehun whispered. And with determination he listened to Tao tell him where Luhan was.

Chapter Text

November was downright cold and Luhan had been forced to buy a new coat. He’d had a lighter autumn jacket for his needs previously, but by the first of November snow was drifting down, the wind chill factor was up, and Luhan was even more aware of hos difficult he found it now to retain body heat.

And perhaps leaving during the start of the coldest winter months hadn’t been the best idea, but he’d been desperate. The walls had been closing in around him, and if he’d stayed in his place he might have lost his mind.

A vacation, his doctor had suggested. A vacation to clear his mind, keep his blood pressure down, and give him a semblance of normalcy before the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Because Luhan was only too aware that he was coming to the home stretch of his pregnancy. Before long he’d be giving birth, and that meant dealing with Sehun and his lawsuit for custody, and a never ending uphill battle to keep the rights to his own child.

And running wasn’t an option anymore. It had been, and Luhan had almost been prepared to do it. But before the end he was grounded by the fact that he wasn’t a coward. He couldn’t do that to Sehun, it was morally wrong, and he had to be more confident in himself as a father. He could fight Sehun in court the legal way. He could deal with shared custody, because hadn’t that been what he’d thought he’d have in the beginning anyway? And if the worst came to pass, he could still survive knowing that whatever contempt and hatred Sehun felt for him, it was only love he felt for their baby.

He wasn’t going to let anything run him out of Korea, especially not his fear.

In the meanwhile, he needed a vacation, and he’d always wanted to see more of Korea, outside of Seoul where he lived, Busan where traveled to the most often, and Jeju that Xiumin’s family owned a house on.

So Suwon it was. At less than twenty miles from Seoul it wasn’t so far to travel, something that his advanced pregnancy made very difficult, but it was just far enough to make him feel as if he’d gone to the outskirts of Korea and his problems were further than an arm’s reach away.

Suwon was beautiful, too.

On the first day, after resting in his hotel room for some time, he saw the fabled Hwaseong Fortress, channeled his inner tourist, and then caught a game of soccer at the impressive Suwon World Cup Stadium.

His feet held up remarkably well as he traveled to all of the Suwon famous restaurants, enjoyed warm food on cold days, and then finally located an art museum where he was finally surrounded by the language he spoke most fluently.

One day, he told himself, he’d have his work in a gallery. One day he’d get to have a showing.

After four days Luhan felt absolutely refreshed, rested, well fed, and maybe just a little lonely. It would have been better to go on the vacation with someone he cared about, but there really hadn’t been time to wait for anyone’s schedule to open up.

Now, however, he figured it was time to go home. There were friends to see, bills to pay, and a bank to contact.

It wasn’t lost on Luhan that he’d received a large, almost mind boggling money transfer from his parents over the past week. There’d been no communication with the transfer, and Luhan wasn’t sure what to think of it. Were his parents trying to bribe him with money? Were they luring him into taking it, only to demand it back at a later date? And why would he even want to take money from them after what they’d tried to do to him. He didn’t want their pity money or their fake apology money.

Luhan would have to start working again right after having Youri, but until that happened, they were okay financially.

He wasn’t taking anything from his parents. There had to be a way to send the money back. It felt like dirty money and he didn’t want it anywhere near him.

He was headed back to the hotel for the last night, weighed down with souvenirs he’d bought, when a voice rang out, “You know you’re not supposed to be carrying anything.”

The voice was so sweet and familiar that Luhan froze up.

“You have to take it easy, especially since your labor scare.”

Then Sehun was there, sliding into his line of sight and taking the bags from Luhan.

“Sehun,” he breathed out, not sure at all what it meant that he was seeing the man in front of him. The last imagine of Sehun he had in his mind was of a furious, flushed face, accusing words soaked in hatred, and a vow of destruction.

“What are you doing here?” His fingers went numb as Sehun took the last of his bags.

Sehun looked … well, as handsome as ever. But he also seemed kinder to look upon than he’d ever been, and youthful in some kind of anxiousness.

“I heard about what happened--you having to go to the hospital.”

Luhan stoked a hand down to his stomach. Most of his bulge was hidden by the heavy coat he wore, but from a side profile it was just as obvious as ever that he was fully rounded out.

“I …” Luhan felt the words twisting up inside of him, more unsure than ever of what to say to the man he loved. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

Sehun reeled back a little. “Of course it wasn’t on purpose.”

A door closed at the end of the hall and Luhan was suddenly aware of how public their conversation could be at any moment.

“My room,” he said, pointing to the nearest door. The keycard was in his pocket but he made no move to reach for it.

Sehun asked gently, “Can we talk in there?”

After a quick nod, Luhan finally got his feet working. “Follow me.”

The mood inside the room was just as awkward and almost uncomfortable as it had been in the hallway. Luhan sat on the edge of the bed while Sehun deposited his gifts on the nearby table.

“I called for an ambulance as soon as I realized what was happening,” Luhan said, still feeling the fear in him when the first cramp had occurred. “I would never let anything happen to Youri on purpose. I tried to get help as quickly as--”

Sehun lowed himself to the room’s carpet slowly at first, then more determined. His palms pressed flat against the carped, his head bowed, and then his forehead was all the way down, his shoulders hunched.

“Sehun?”

Sehun said nothing, his body trembling, and Luhan thought of how Wei had lowered himself in front of him. But this was different. That had been a friend seeking forgiveness for a mistake caused by time and pressure. This was Sehun … the only person other than his daughter that Luhan kept in his heart, who was confusing and infuriating and impossible not to care for.

“I almost killed you,” Sehun said, his voice thick. “It’s my fault. I almost killed the person I love.”

The comforter on the bed bunched up as Luhan’s fingers clenched at the material. “I wouldn’t have--”

“You don’t know that,” Sehun said, and when his head lifted his face as blotchy from how he was now crying, his eyes red and filled with tears. “You could have died, or Youri could have. She could have been born too early, you could have started bleeding. A million terrible things could have happened, and they would all be my fault.”

“But none of them did happen,” Luhan said, and reached his hand out to cup Sehun’s face. “I’m fine, and so is Youri. Get up off the floor, okay?”

Sehun refused, bowing over once more, stating, “I’m the person who’s supposed to help you protect Youri. I’m the man who’s supposed to love you and care for you, and above all else, I’m supposed to believe you.”

“And you believe me now?”

With a rough nod, Sehun said, “Kris told me everything.”

Luhan wanted to roll his eyes. Of course Kris. Kris was definitely someone who felt regretful very infrequently. He made mistakes, but rarely claimed responsibility for them, though with no malicious intent. However when he did admit to his mistakes, and when he took responsibility for them, he did so greatly.

“I didn’t ask him to,” Luhan said.

The next time Sehun looked to him, it was with confusion. “Why not? You … none of this was your fault. You didn’t deserve my anger or my thoughtless actions. All of this could have been cleared up if … I just …”

“You didn’t want to see me,” Luhan said simply. “You didn’t want to hear me. If I had spoken to you, you probably still wouldn’t have understood what I was saying. And when have I ever pushed you into anything you weren’t ready for? Rarely, right? I know what kind of person you are, Sehun.”

“What kind of person is that?” Sehun asked, sounding quite desperate.

“The kind,” Luhan replied, “who needs to come into things on his own time. A little prodding does wonders, but for the most part, you have to go at your own rate. I’ve always accepted that stubbornness.”

Swallowing visibly, Sehun asked, “How are you, really?”

He could tell he was moving unexpectedly when he pulled Sehun up and placed his hand at Luhan’s stomach. “You feel for yourself.”

Sehun’s ace crumbled at the first feel of a kick.

“She’s not as active as she was before,” Luhan admitted, because it had been some time since Sehun had felt her. “But that’s more to do with how little room there is in there for her now. Mostly she fidgets, but I swear, my doctor cleared me for this vacation, and she wouldn’t have if she thought I should be laying down in a bed all day.”

Sehun prompted, “Kris said you might not carry to term.”

Luhan absolutely couldn’t deny how good it felt to have Sehun’s concern turned on him again. It was a million times better than his anger and rage.

“To be fair,” Luhan stated, “we always knew there was a chance I wouldn’t carry to the end of my nine months. I haven’t got the hips for it, and my gestational diabetes really plays a part in all o that. But as long as there’s no more cramping, and as long as those contractions stay far, far away, I have a shot at it. I’m doing everything to try and make it to the finish line on time.”

Sehun gave a silent nod.

With some wonder, Luhan asked, “You still haven’t said why you’re here. I understand that you know now that I wasn’t trying to take Youri from you. But why did you come all the way here? Just to tell me you knew? A phone call would have sufficed.”

“How can you be like this?” Sehun asked. “So calm? I … was a pitiful man in how I treated you.”

Luhan sighed loudly. “What do you want me to do, Sehun? Get upset and yell? Raise my blood pressure? I am terrified, Sehun, terrified of sparking labor with anything now. So I’m going to calmly sit here and speak with you, but that’s it. Youri is worth more than me getting angry.”

What he couldn’t control, though, was the frustration he felt. Was this Sehun trying to make things even with them? Did he want them to start over, or forget this had never happened? Those were things Luhan couldn’t do. He wouldn’t.

“Kris said that you only had the paperwork drawn up because he pushed you into it.”

Luhan nodded. “He didn’t force me, I won’t play the complete victim in this but yes, he bullied me a bit into it. He played on my fears, telling me that I didn’t know what kind of person you were, and how you might hurt Youri or in the future. But you know what? He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t know you back then. My fears might have been founded. But then things changed.”

“You wouldn’t’ have tried to get me to sign that paper just so you could have Youri to yourself, right?”

Luhan shot back, “All I’ve ever wanted to have with you was someone to raise Youri with. I wanted a partner and co parent. If that wasn’t what you wanted, I was prepared to give you a way out. But if you were going to sign, I wouldn’t have lied to you about anything. I would have made it perfectly clear what your signature meant, the rights you were giving up, and how little I expected of you in return. I am not a deceptive person, Sehun.”

“I know that,” Sehun said shamefully.

“But still you thought I’d done the opposite of the one thing I’d always told you I wanted.”

Sehun’s fingers balled into fists tightly. “I just … freaked out. I’m so sorry, Luhan. I’m so sorry want to die of my shame. I just saw the paper, thought of how my life would be without Youri, and I blanked out. I don’t … I don’t even remember most of what happened.”

Frustration welled in Luhan. “You don’t remember screaming at me? Accusing me of being disloyal and betraying you? How about that fist sized hole you put in our baby’s nursery wall?”

Almost immaturely Sehun was diving back to the floor, his forehead at the carpet again.

“Sehun,” Luhan groaned out. “Look, the fact is, you hurt me. You hurt me badly, and you made me think that you never trusted me in the first place. And where to do go from here? What can we do now?”

Sehun scrambled to say, “I already contacted my lawyer! I had him get rid of everything.”

“That doesn’t make the worst part go away,” Luhan said. It would always be at the back of his mind, now, that at any moment Sehun might turn on him.

Luhan leaned back on his forearms and wondered what they were going to do now.

“I know you hate me,” Sehun said from his spot on the ground, “but I just want you to know that I will never do anything ever to hurt you again. I will never.”

“How can you promise that?” Luhan asked. “And for the record I don’t hate you. You’re crazy if you think I hate you.”

“You’d be crazy not to,” Sehun said. “I hate me. I hate--”

Luhan reached down for him, and to his credit, Sehun scrambled up to avoid Luhan having to exert much effort. “Stop trying to guess how I’m feeling,” Luhan said, forcing Sehun into the spot next to the bed. “I’m angry at you. I’m hurt by you. But I do not hate you.”

Sehun’s hand was twitching nearby, always a tell of his.

“Just feel,” Luhan said, exhaustion aching through him. “Sehun, she’s your daughter, too. I’m just trying to keep her safe.”

When Sehun’s fingers tentatively brushed against his shirt, he admitted, “I let my anger get the best of me. I was so upset, and I thought I had a right to be hurt, so all I could think about was hurting you back. It was petty and villainous, and I had second thoughts almost the second after I calmed down.”

“You still said you were suing me for custody,” Luhan pointed out, trying not to lean into Sehun’s blunt fingernails that felt so good scratching across his stomach. “You still had your lawyer send me that piece of paper in the mail.”

“Suho pushed me towards it,” Sehun said, his fingers stilling momentarily. “I deserve most of the blame, and maybe even he deserves none of it, but Suho made it so easy for me to try and strike at you in the way I knew you would be most devastated. He made it easy for me to turn into a monster that I’m ashamed of. The fact that I did it at all, is a burden I will live with for the rest of my life.”

Luhan asked, “Did you only stop because Kris told you the truth?” And maybe he ought to be upset that Sehun had listened to Kris, and not Luhan who’d tried desperately hard to get through to him.

Sehun retraced this fingers completely and balled them up on his lap. “I was already hating myself for what I was doing before that. I would have stopped before it was too late, because I could bear the idea of hurting he person I love the most in this world, and because I want my daughter to grow up and respect me, and not think of her father as someone so heinous.”

“She won’t think that,” Luhan said confidently. “And when she finds out about this, because it will come out eventually, she’ll think that she has parents who are simply human and make mistakes. Sometimes those mistakes are horrible in their severity, but they’re just mistakes. And even the worst mistakes can be forgiven.”

“I’m …” Sehun leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. “I’ve decided not to ask for custody of any kind. You get it all. Full custody. I’ll even sign a paper saying it. Just please, let me see her. Let me try and make this up to you and her.”

With an open palm, but not so gently, Luhan struck Sehun over the back of his head. “What’s the point of you fighting the trauma of your past to become a good father, if you won’t even hold custody?”

Sehun flinched as Luhan raised is hand threateningly again. “Why would you even want me near our daughter?”

“Because,” Luhan said, and he did strike him one more time. “I’ve spent all this time being horrified at the idea of losing my daughter. I was contemplating that running away to China might be better than having to give her over to you. But never once, not a single time, did I ever feel that she’d be in danger or hurt by you. I knew you’d love her and protect her and be a good father. That was the only thing I didn’t have to worry about.”

“I have to do this,” Sehun said.

“To prove something to me?”

Sehun shook his head. “I can’t ever let there be a question again as to who’s daughter she is. She’s yours first, Luhan. I just want to see her. I want to have time with her.”

Luhan pointed to the door. “Get out.”

Confounded, Sehun asked, “Leave?”

“Get out,” Luhan repeated, this time louder. “I don’t want anything to do with you if this is how you’re going to be.”

Sehun stood. “This is something you shout want!”

“What I want,” Luhan challenged, having to use Sehun to pull himself to his feet, “is for the father of my daughter to be more than a spectator. Do you think you don’t deserve her all the sudden because of your mistake? News flash, Sehun, you’ve been making mistakes and false assumptions for quite some time now. I have always forgiven you because of what’s in your heart and the effort you show. But this is you giving up. This is you begging for the rights to your own daughter, and it’s pathetic.”

Angrily, Sehun shouted back, “I am a monster who tried to hurt you. I would have hurt our baby by taking you away from her. This isn’t a matter of what I deserve, this is a matter of what she deserves.”

“She deserves two fathers!”

Sehun threw his hands up. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. Am I someone who loves his family and will do anything to protect them? Or am I the petty person who uses one family member to hurt another?”

Luhan turned to him and took Sehun’s face in his hands. “If you walk out of Youri’s life now, to spare her or I any kind of pain you think you might cause us, it’ll be worse than anything you’ve done in the past. The father of my daughter is not a coward.”

With a tight laugh, Sehun said, “I’m nothing but a coward. I’ve just gotten so good at hiding it all this time.”

“I don’t think you are,” Luhan said, and he leaned up so that their noses were almost brushing. “Being scared doesn’t make you a liar. In fact, you can only be brave and strong if you have that fear. It’s motivation. It’s determination. It’s everything that makes you human.”

Sehun’s mouth descended on Luhan’s quickly, catching him in a soft but determined kiss, making Luhan realize how much he’d missed the simply act of affection.

It took mere seconds for Luhan to realize how much he still wanted Sehun and kiss him back fiercely.

There’d been some doubt and confusion in Luhan’s heart. He loved Sehun, that much was engrained in him now. But being in love with Sehun didn’t naturally mean that he still desired him. Maybe the love was tied to their baby and there was nothing remotely sexual about it anymore.

Kissing Sehun now, holding him in place with his fingers, relieved any and all doubts.

There was still a burning and yearning in him for Sehun.

“We are so messed up,” Luhan said, his arms going around Sehun’s neck for a hug. “What are we going to do?”

Sehun held him firmly, smelling like home, and said, “I came here hoping you hated me. I wanted you to deny me and hate me and give me reason to hate myself. Now I just want you to love me.”

“You’re so stupid,” Luhan whispered, his fingers brushing in to the strands of hair at the back of Sehun’s hair. “I’ve loved you since the beginning. I loved you when you were broken before, and I still love you now.”

“But how can you?”

Luhan felt the baby in him, and Sehun against him. “Even when you’re being difficult, it’s still easy for others to love you. I just don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to love yourself.” He enfolded Sehun and tugged him even closer. “You’re worth being loved. Don’t let yourself forget that.”

Luhan wasn’t quite sure who it happened, but within the hour they were surrounded by room service, down to their underclothes, with a movie playing in the background and their fingers twined.

“Remember who I said I was thinking about getting some therapy?” Sehun asked, breaking Luhan’s attention away from the television.

“I had wondered.”

Sehun said seriously, “I’m going to make an appointment to see someone the second I get back to Seoul. I have to. I have these thoughts and insecurities and this anger. I have to get rid of it, or at least improve it before Youri is born.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Luhan said. If there was a chance anyone could help Sehun continue to recover from his past, then it was the right choice to make. Still, he couldn’t’ help adding, “But Sehun, you realize that even if you go get therapy, and things get better, they’re never going to be the way they were. We broke that with this. We can’t get it back. We can’t recapture it perfectly.”

“I know,” Sehun said, sounding heartbroken.

Luhan added, “You clearly have trust issues, and for obvious reasons, I can’t trust you. The problem between us isn’t love. It’s trust.”

Sehun tipped himself sideways on the bed, narrowing missing a plate of food. “Do you think we moved too fast in the beginning?”

“No,” Luhan said honestly. “There was a real attraction we had for each other from the start, and that’s hard to fight. Plus, we didn’t make a choice to start a romantic relationship lightly. We both hesitated because we wanted to put Youri first. But if this is your way of saying you want to be friends only--”

“I’m not!” Sehun said sharply, squeezing Luhan’s fingers. “I’m not saying that at all. I love you.”

Reaching for the nearby remote, Luhan muted the TV and crossed his legs. “I want us to get a probationary but formal agreement for shared custody from the court system.”

Panicked, Sehun demaned, “What? No!”

Quickly, Luhan replied, “I said probationary. I don’t want to have a legal and binding contract between us when Youri is fifteen and we’re arguing over who gets to go stalk her the first time she goes on a date.”

The immediate softening of Sehun’s face could have tempted even the strongest man. The handsome charm to his face told Luhan that he was thinking of their daughter when she was that age, and how beautiful and devastatingly perfect she’d be.

“What do you want it to say?” Sehun asked carefully.

“That we’re equal parts her parents,” Luhan said immediately. “And it should say that we plan to spend as much time together with her as possible, but when it isn’t, that we have a clear idea of who gets her when. I don’t want miscommunication or anger. I want us to be a family and concentrate on loving each other. I don’t want us squabbling over the little stuff.”

With a concentrated look on his face, Sehun insisted, “I want it written in there, if we’re going to do this, then Youri stays with you for the first year. Exclusively. I get to see her whenever you can swing it, maybe even when you can’t, but she’ stays with you for that first year.”

“Didn’t we say six months at first?” Luhan asked.

Sehun insisted, “A year. She’ll be so tiny, Luhan. She’ll need constant supervision and I know it’ll help if she’s in the same place and gets used to it. Plus, we both know that out of the both of us, you have the more flexible schedule. You can be there where I can’t.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

Sehun leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You’re carrying our baby. Haven’t I told you before that you’ve got a profound connection to her because of that? That’s going to matter still when she’s born, and she’ll be able to feel that I’m not you. I want you two to have that first year, especially if I’m going to be working on me during that time.”

Luhan leaned over for his own kiss. “Are you sure?”

When Sehun nodded, Luhan believed him.

“After that,” Sehun said, “we should trade off weekends. Or maybe you keep her during the week and I get the weekends?”

With some mock protest, Luhan questioned, “So I get to be the mean parent who makes her go to school and you’re the fun one who takes her out on the weekend to have fun?”

Sehun laughed out, “I’m totally going to be the fun parent. You’ll be the strict one.”

Luhan wound an arm around Sehun’s neck and kissed him more fully. “Is that a challenge?”

Gently Sehun stroked his fingers across Luhan’s stomach. “As long as she’s healthy and happy, I don’t care which of us is the strict parent. I’ll be it, if you want me to.”

The thing was, Luhan couldn’t imagine him fitting into that role. There was anger in Sehun, the kind that he needed help to deal with, but there was also excruciating kindness. Luhan was going to be surprised if it look Sehun less than ten years to start saying no to their daughter. She wasn’t even born and she was having her way with him. They’d be crippled terribly if she ever realized her full potential.

“I just want us to work on us,” Luhan said. “I want us to be better in the future than we were before, with more openness, more trust, and more love.”

With the barest hint of pressure on Luhan’s stomach, Sehun continued to stroke the skin there.

“I know we can’t go back,” he said, voice almost at a whisper. “I know we can’t sweep away what happened, or pretend it didn’t. I thought you betrayed me, but really it was just me betraying you. But I want us to have a future.”

Luhan’s fingers brushed Sehun’s. “We do have a future. It’s right here.”

“I know that,” Sehun sighed out. “But I want there to be a future with me and you. We’ll have our baby no matter what. That will always be the most precious thing to me, and it should be. But I want for me and you. I want something there for us, and I want something that isn’t about our baby. I want it just to be about us.”

Bluntly, Luhan said, “I love you, Sehun. I wouldn’t offer any part of me, let alone my heart, to you if that wasn’t the case. But I don’t have a clue what our future is. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with how I felt when you exploded, or how scared I was when you put that hole in my wall. How can I just ignore that? I felt like your words were ripping me to pieces, and then your friends started in on me after that.”

Sehun put his hands firmly on Luhna’s shoulders. “I swear I didn’t know they were doing that to you. I would have stopped it if I had known, and now that I do, they won’t ever do it to you again.”

“I do understand, you know.” Luhan just hated how the number of people who’d hurt him was growing. “They are your friends. Their first priority is to protect you from perceived threats, and that’s what they were doing. It jut really hurt, because I thought we were friends too, and I thought at least one of them would want to hear my side of the story, or listen to what I had to say. I thought maybe one of them, just one, wouldn’t be so cruel.”

“Do not defend them! Your friends didn’t attack me. Why should mine be allowed to attack you.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Luhan felt a smile split on his face. “The truth is, it’s kind of a shock to me that Xiumin didn’t have someone hired to gut you.”

“I’m really not sure if you’re joking or not,” Sehun breathed out.

“Well,” Luhan chuckled, “Tao claims that his roommate at the university is dating someone in the Korean mafia, so that’s something. And Tao’s pretty much the one you should be worried about. It took me a few years to figure that out, but he’s secretly a ninja of some sort.”

“A ninja?” Sehun nearly giggled. “You must be kidding.”

“No,” Luha insisted. “I knew him when he was seventeen. His parents had just dropped him off to say with a couple of family friends in Korea while they moved to France for business, and the first encounter I had with Tao was watching him force a bully, twice his size, to give some poor kid’s allowance back to him. With his words, not his fists. That bully was scared to death of Tao, who was just this skinny kid with a smart mouth. And from then on I realized that no matter how frivolous or carefree Tao comes off, there’s a lot more there under the surface. There’s a lot more to him, than what he chooses to let people see.”

Sehun tucked a foot underneath him and stated, “Tao’s the one who told me where to find you. That’s how I knew you were here at this hotel. Then I just had to charm the woman at the front desk, who apparently thinks you’re the cutest thing ever, by the way, and that let me to this room.”

“Tao?” Luhan was surprised. “Well, it wouldn’t have been Kris or Xiumin, that’s for sure. But I thought maybe Lay. Or even Chen.”

“Chen?”

“Chen and Eunji are dating,” Luhan reminded. “And I had to get her permission to come here.”

With a stumble to his words, Sehun asked, “Did Chen do anything to you? Was he being horrible to you like the others?”

“He left one voicemail,” Luhan said, not wanting to be dishonest. “It was mean, that’s for sure, but I accept it. He wanted me to stay away from you, warned me what would happen if I didn’t, and that’s it.”

Darkness settled across Sehun’s features. “He’s supposed to be my best friend. He knew, even when I was furious, that I still loved you.”

“And,” Luhan revealed, “Xiumin was fully aware of how much I was in love with you when he punctured your tire with his pocketknife.”

“What!” After a moment of flailing Sehun was rolling off the bed, hitting the ground with a dulls thud. “Shit.”

“Are you okay?” Luhan peeked over the side of the bed.

“Fine,” Sehun groaned out. “You know, I was sure it was one of your friends, but no one saw anything, and I could think of how anyone would have access to my car.”

A little too easily, Luhan said, “Xiumin’s cousin, who will remain nameless, works at a building very close to yours. So close, in fact, he has access to the same parking garage as you. It wasn’t that difficult for him to slip Xiumin the access code.” Sehun groaned again and Luhan promised, “I’ll make him pay for the tire he cost you. I wasn’t too pleased either, when I heard.”

“Eh. It’s okay.” Sehun rolled up to his knees. “I deserved it anyway.”

“Maybe,” Luhan allowed, and offered Sehun his hand. “But the car didn’t. It’s a very nice car.”

Sehun spent the night. They slept in the same bed. And there was cuddling. But for the most part, Luhan kept his hands to himself, and the only place Sehun put his, was to the baby.

In the morning Sehun asked, “Can I drive you back to Seoul? I know you probably don’t want to be in a car with me for even a second, but I’d feel better knowing you’re not taking the subway line.”

“I took it all the way here,” Luhan said. And when he’d come on vacation, he’d brought a half full suitcase. There was room enough to pack all of his souvenirs and still be able to pull it along. “And you’re right, I don’t want to be in a car with you right now. I need some time to think. I came her believing that it was my last chance for peace before I had to essentially go to battle with you. Now that isn’t the case, but we’re still on uneven ground. I need to take this all in, decide how much I’m willing to risk. You understand?”

Shoulders slumping, Sehun said, “Okay. I get it.”

Luhan did, however, allow Sehun to drive him to the station.

“Can I come see you?” Sehun asked, almost with all the confidence of a teenager on a first date. “When you’re settled back in at home?”

“The eighth.”

“Huh?” Sehun’s eyebrows pulled together.

Slipping out of the car and waiting for Sehun to pop the trunk, Luhan said, “Come pick me up on the eighth. That’s when my next doctor’s appointment is. It’s important, too. We’re verifying the correct date for labor, and deciding all of the things that go with it.”

Sehun hurried to pull his luggage from the trunk. “I’ll be there. I swear.”

As the suitcase was turned over to him, Luhan said, “I hope you’re serious about getting some therapy. We all have demons to deal with, and we all make mistakes. It’s what we do after that, which really matters. I love you, Sehun. I want this to be a distant thing of the past one day. I want to trust you again, and I want you to trust me. But no matter what happens with us, I will never doubt you with our baby, and you can’t ever doubt me.”

Sehun bent to brush his lips over Luhan’s. “How about you believe in me, and I’ll believe in your. We can go from there.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Luhan clutched Sehun tightly, hoping for the moment it was enough. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”

It would have been more comfortable and easier to take Sehun up on his offer of a ride, but Luhan hadn’t been anything but truthful when he’d said he wanted time to think. His being in love with Sehun had nothing to do with the fact that he was still distrustful of how stable Sehun was at the moment, and how little faith he’d had in Luhan. Sehun needed to prove himself, and Luhan hated that he felt that way, but he couldn’t fight it.

“Xiumin said sorry,” Tao said when he was there for Luhan when his trained pulled back into Seoul’s innermost station. “He got called into work suddenly. My last class let out half an hour ago, so here I am. You look really good, Luhan. Really refreshed.”

Luhan gave him a forceful push to the arm. “Don’t try to act so innocent with me, kid. I know you told Sehun where I was.”

“You don’t look too upset,” Tao pointed out his car keys swinging around a finger.

“That’s not the point,” Luhan shot back. “You still told him.”

With a laugh, Tao said, “But I made him beg for it. Plus, Luhan, don’t pretend for a second that you weren’t appreciative that you two finally got to talk. I don’t know if you worked anything out, but you seem happier than when you left, so I’m calling my mission a success.”

Letting Tao take his suitcase, Luhan snapped, “Mission?”

Tao merely flashed a sign of victory.

“Ninja,” Luhan muttered.

Chapter Text

Month eight.

Month eight and he was honestly going a little crazy.

Sehun had known from the beginning, since the moment he’d accepted Youri as more than a responsibility, that month eight was going to be the definitive moment in Luhan’s pregnancy.

So he was hovering. He was more than hovering. With Luhan exercising the patience of a saint, Sehun was … suffocating him with his worry.

And rationally, Sehun knew that there was nothing bad about the eight month. There was no jinx on it. And Luhan had been exceptionally good at taking care of Youri for the duration of his pregnancy. But he couldn’t shake the dread in him whenever he and Luhan were out on the streets. Or worse, whenever Luhan was alone, the panic was nearly unbearable.

His therapist had needed to walk him through more than a couple anxiety attacks, which were shameful and embarrassing, but something he couldn’t control.

Because no matter where he and Luhan stood, and how they were just trying to get back on their feet with each other, Sehun loved Luhan like someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Luhan was everything to Sehun, including the reason he pulled himself out of his bed in the morning. Even if he and Luhan could never get back to where they’d been before, he would always remain Sehun’s love.

He wanted to think that therapy was helping a little.

By the time Luhan had gotten more than a couple days into his eighth month, and there was proof in the universe that nothing had gone wrong yet, Sehun had been attending biweekly meetings with a recommended therapist for a couple of weeks. It was too soon to tell if it was making a difference, but it was certainly an experience.

It was odd trying to tell a stranger all of the fears that made up his anger and anxiety. It was difficult placing trust in someone he didn’t know to keep his secrets. But in another way, it was freeing. He could sit away from the therapist and watch the busy streets of Seoul if he wanted, just let the words flow out of him and not have to worry about being judged. Some days he was filled with nothing but insecurity when he spoke to his therapist, but other days, talking made it all go away.

At the very least he liked his therapist. He liked that she let him go at his own place, only pushed when it was a subject he was avoiding, and she offered gentle anecdotes when the situation called for them. The therapist’s office was starting to feel like a safe zone, and Sehun realized that was something he’d never had before with his emotions.

He wasn’t going to be fixed by the time Youri was born, and he wasn’t even sure which parts of him were broken and which needed mending. But he was determined to be a better person than he had be. He was determined to heal the hurt inside of him that was prohibiting him from being what Luhan needed. He was determined to be the kind of man and father that his family would want from him, if not need.

“Are you sure I can be here?”

At Luhan’s voice, Sehun looked up from his computer, his office at work coming back into focus. He wanted to say that he’d been working so diligently he’d been in the zone, but really he’d been letting his thoughts wander. It happened most days he came to work, wherein he found it hard to focus knowing that Luhan was off being independent … crossing streets and putting himself potentially in unknown danger.

It wasn’t that he expected Luhan to sit around all day and do nothing, though Sehun’s nerves would have appreciated it. He just was having trouble fighting through the irrationality that was his fear of Luhan’s eighth month, and all the thing associated with it.

“You’re fine,” Sehun assured, and Luhan made the most adorable picture ever, curled up at the end of the sofa in Sehun’s office, sketchbook in hand, a soft blanket thrown over his legs.

Sehun remembered the moment, one year earlier, when he’d finally earned himself a big enough office for something like a sofa. He’d intended to use it to sleep at the office whenever the occasion called for it, and no matter how little Jae had liked that, there’d been recognition that sometimes his deadlines were incredibly short and demanding. Never in a million years would he have suspected someone like Luhan to be occupying the space.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Luhan asked, his eyes flickering to the glass door of Sehun’s airy office. More than a few people had stopped to stare at Luhan since Sehun had led him into the room a few hours previous.

Rolling his chair to the side so he could see Luhna better, Sehun said, “Most of the people here are friends of mine. We’ve worked together for years. They knew Jae. I think most of them are just curious about who you are, and why you’re so special to me.”

“I’m special to you?” Luhan teased.

“I’m in love with you,” Sehun corrected. “If you want me to go tell them that, you know I will. I’m not ashamed of loving you.”

Luhan chuckled. “I know you aren’t. And to be fair, I think you telling them that might make them stare harder.”

“True,” Sehun agreed. But if Chanyeol passed by his office one more time, an unreadable expression his face, Sehun was going to say something.

His therapist said he had to learn how to stop holding onto things that hurt him. She said that venting and grieving, expressing his emotions, and confronting the cause, were are valid means of dealing with why things built up inside him until they boiled over. But Sehun didn’t think he was ready to face his friends or their actions yet. He needed to forgive himself for his own actions before he could even start with them.

Luhan’s fingers were smudged with pencil lead as he shifted a little. “I just don’t want to be a distraction to you. You’re taking paternity leave in two weeks, right?”

Behind Sehun the large windows that framed his office wall were battered with rain. They were officially out of the last bit of autumn and hurtling towards winter. The rain had started days ago, and it hadn’t let up yet.

It gave something else for Sehun to worry about. He could just imagine Luhan getting the sniffles from having to go out in the rain without proper protection.

“You’re helping, actually,” Sehun said, his eyes moving back to his computer screen. “I get to know that you’re safe and warm and dry. It makes me work faster, and I’m less distracted.”

“Oh.”

With a smile, Sehun asked, “Give me twenty more minutes. After that we’ll go for that lunch I promised you.”

Luhan fidgeted on the sofa, struggling to move a bit with his stomach, and Sehun thought he looked so beautiful. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Curiously, Luhan asked, “Are you going to have to work from home when you take your leave?”

That was something Sehun had already talked to this boss with. So he told Luhan, “I’ll do some work while you’re in your ninth month, but not the kind of load that I have right now. When Youri is born, that’s it. I won’t do anything for work for that first month until I have to come back to work. I’ll only help you with her.”

With a satisfied hum, Luhan’s attention turned back to whatever he was sketching. Sehun wanted to peek at it, but if Luhan wanted to show him, Sehun figured he would eventually.

More like half an hour later Sehun’s own stomach was grumbling for food and he shut off his computer with finality.

“Lunch?” Luhan asked hopefully.

“Lunch,” Sehun agreed. He rounded his desk to help Luhan up and not so subtly groped at his stomach. “Is she hungry too?”

“She’s been trying to destroy my kidney for at least fifteen minutes, so I’d have to go with yes,” Luhan said.

“I’ve got you,” Sehun promised, stroking his hand over Luhan’s stomach. “Let’s get some food.”

They made it to the bank of elevators at the end of the hallway without incident. Sehun kept his fingers firmly wrapped around Luhan’s, and made friendly introductions to coworkers who were curious, but not confrontational.

They’d just stepped into the elevator when Chanyeol slipped in behind them, jamming his finger on the close door button and preventing anyone else form joining them.

“Chanyeol,” Sehun said flatly. There was a look of apprehension on Luhan’s face. It made Sehun feel fierce and protective over Luhan.

“Are you guys going to get lunch?” he asked, bouncing on his feet a little.

Tersely, Sehun nodded. “It’s just after noon.”

He dropped in a severe bow and asked, “Will you both allow me to buy the food for you?”

The elevator was dropping rapidly and Sehun asked angrily, “What makes you think Luhan is going to want you anywhere near him after--”

“Sehun,” Luhan said, stepping deliberately around him. “I can handle this.”

Sehun forced himself to take a deep breath and nod. His therapist was also frequently telling him that he couldn’t always control the circumstances around him. Part of being able to trust people was being able to give them the control that he had so much difficulty relinquishing.

“Chanyeol,” Luhan said, his hands braced at the small of his back in a way that indicated it was giving him trouble again. Sehun was going to offer to rub the kinks out for him later on. “Sehun and I are going to have a private lunch. We have to talk a few things over and it’s important. But if you want to have lunch with me, I’m free tomorrow.”

Chanyeol looked absolutely startled that Luhan had agreed. As much as Sehun was.

“Tomorrow?”

Luhan raised an eyebrow. “I try not to hold grudges. Nothing comes of them. And honestly, whether I want to forgive you or not, is irrelevant. I want you and Sehun to recover your friendship, and I’ll do whatever it takes for that to happen.”

The elevator doors opened before Chanyeol could respond and Luhan was striding out.

“Um…” Chanyeol said, eyes wide in surprise.

“That’s part of why I love him,” Sehun said simply, then took off after Luhan, not wanting him to get too far ahead.

“You don’t have to,” Sehun made sure to say when they were safely in the car. Sehun turned the heat up all the way and meant every word he said. “Don’t think you’re obligated to do anything with the people who harassed you, and certainly not for my benefit.”

Luhan buckled is seatbelt carefully, tucking the strap under his stomach and settling in. He asked, “You don’t want me to forgive someone who made a mistake? Sehun, we’re all human. You and I more than normal, should understand that people often have emotionally uncontrollable reactions to things that upset them. I’m still hurt by Chanyeol and the others, but I will always believe in second chances. You forgave Xiumin when I made him admit to slashing your tires.”

“Maybe you need therapy too,” Sehun proposed, flipping on the windshield wipers as they exited the parking garage and started towards the restaurant. “People aren’t always deserving of forgiveness, and they’re not all as nice as you seem to want to believe.”

“Hey,” Luhan said sharply. “Mister Cynical. My optimism has gotten me this far.” He gave a gentle pat to his stomach. “And considering how well things have gone, I’m not changing anything just for your pessimism. Plus, this is a special case. Because I know you don’t want to admit it right now, but Chanyeol and the others are still your best friends. They’re you’re family. And I’m not your therapist, but I can see what’s going on right now.”

Sehun asked, “And what is that?”

“You still want to punish yourself.” Luhan leveled a serious finger up at him. “And the second I forgive them, you’ll have to believe that I also forgive you. You can punish yourself as long as I’m punishing them by not talking to them or acknowledging them. But that’s got to stop. They are your family the same as Youri and I are. I think it’s time we all moved past this, because that’s what family does. It forgives.”

Luhan was … truly exceptional. Sehun had never imagined meeting someone like him in his life time, let alone being able to love him.

Sehun gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I just think it’s too soon for you to be forgiving. What I did to you … what the others did … it’s too soon.”

Leaning over, Luhan pressed a full kiss to Sehun’s cheek. “Isn’t that for me to decide?”

After a few more seconds of silence, Sehun said, “Make him buy you beef. Really expensive beef.”

“Are you kidding?” Luhan’s face seemed downright devilish. “I’m going to make him spend a month’s wages on that beef.”

Sehun chuckled. “Okay, then.”

They ate lunch that day at an American style restaurant, squeezed into a table at the window with plates full of hamburgers.

“So,” Sehun said, more than a little amazed at the sheer size of the hamburger Luhan was attempting to eat. It was pleasing to see a steady appetite from him, but it was also confounding that Luhan could eat so much on a regular basis without any noticeable changed. From the back it was impossible to even tell he was pregnant. Sehun supposed Luhan must have thought it was a good thing all his baby weight had gone to his stomach and nowhere else. “The twenty-first?”

Luhan chewed on a huge bite of hamburger and nodded. “You nervous?”

“Am I …” Sehun let out a long breath. “I’m terrified!”

He thought he had absolutely every right to be scared as hell. For all intents and purposes, the twenty-first was the day he officially became a father. That was the date set for delivery. That was the day he’d drive Luhan to the hospital more anxious and scared than he’d ever been in his life.

“It’s going to be fine,” Luhan said. “Don’t be nervous.”

“How could I not be?” Sehun demanded, all but losing his appetite. “There’s everything to be worried about on that day.”

Seemingly ignoring him, Luhan said, “It’s actually a perfect date, when I think about it. I’ll be in the hospital for at least a couple of days afterwards, recovering, but then we’ll be able to bring Youri home and it’ll be just in time for Christmas.”

That was something Sehun hadn’t thought about. Last Christmas he’d spent the day with Jae, surrounded by family, buried in a mount of presents with so much to be thankful for.

This Christmas Sehun would still have an incredible amount to be thankful for. But instead of Jae he’d have Luhan and Youri. He certainly didn’t think they’d have a million family members everywhere, and it would likely be a small affair with only the closest of friends. But Youri would be there. His daughter, his newborn, would be there, and he’d get to hold her and be blessed enough to have her. In that regard, it was hard not to feel like this Christmas would be even better than the last, if he dared compare them at all.

“Or are you worried there might be complications?”

Palms sweating, Sehun responded, “You know I am.”

He’d gone to Luhan’s most recent doctor’s appointment with an almost lighthearted mood. Despite Luhan’s recent scare and hospital visit, there hadn’t even been a hint of such a thing happening again, and Luhan had claimed he was feeling better than ever. Sehun had expected to talk about the baby’s due date, and how long Luhan would spend in recovery. He hadn’t expected the talk to turn sour so quickly as the doctor broached the kinds of questions that Sehun couldn’t even beginning answer.

“The chances of complications,” Luhan said knowingly, “are relatively low.”

Voice choppy, Sehun said, “But there could be complications. You could start bleeding, and it might be hard to get it to stop. That’s what the doctor said. There’s a chance of that.”

“A chance,” Luhan agreed. “But Eunji is incredibly skilled, Sehun. She’s honed her craft to a point where I’m confident in her skills as a surgeon.”

But that was it. Luhan’s delivery was major surgery. The doctor was going to cut him open and pull their baby free, with all the risks involved in such a thing. The possible things that could go wrong were astronomically high, and some of the medication Luhan had been on lately had made his blood thin. It was harder for his blood to clot. If there was any kind of hemorrhaging …

“I told Chanyeol we were going to talk about some important things,” Luhan said, “and I meant it. You know what we have to talk about.”

Sehun took a shuddering breath. “I don’t think I can … make that kind of choice.”

“We have to decide now.” Luhan reached a hand out across the table. “I know it isn’t easy.”

Sehun caught his fingers tightly. “You want me to pick between you and Youri.”

“No,” Luhan corrected, “I want us to make the right choice in the face of a worst possible scenario. I fully believe we will never encounter having to make this choice, but if it does happen, I want us to be prepared.”

It was as if the world around him was fading out and all Sehun could see was Luhan, and impossible choice he represented.

Dryly, Sehun posed, “If you start bleeding, or if there’s a major problem during the delivery and we have to make a choice, you want to try and save the baby first, don’t you?”

With clear hesitation on his face, Luhan asked, “When Jae’s accident happened, which did the doctor try to safe first?”

It had been Jae. The doctors, when they’d given their one and only status update, had said that they were going to try and save Jae first. They thought it was too risky to try and save Seoyoung initally. They’d said Jae was the safer choice, and Sehun had been too dazed and too lost to challenge them.

But he’d known afterwards, when there’d been time to think, that Jae would have hated the choice. Jae would have hated Sehun for not fighting the choice. Their baby had always been Jae’s priority, and he would have gladly given his life for her. Just as Luhan would give his for Youri.

Maybe, and it was always at the back of Sehun’s mind, if they doctors had tried to save Seoyoung first, she might have lived. Jae likely would have died regardless, but Seoyoung might have lived.

“Jae,” Sehun said finally. “And it wasn’t the choice Jae would have wanted.”

Luhan gave a somber nod. “If it comes down to Youri and I, I trust you to make the right call. I trust you to tell the doctor that she should be the priority.”

“I can’t lose you,” Sehun said, gripping Luhan’s hand almost painfully.

“You can’t lose Youri.”

Sehun wondered if that was true. Would losing Luhan be easier than Youri? If it came down to one or the other, would he be able to survive that kind of choice?

Trying to be as rational as possible, Sehun said, “If the worst happened, and the doctor saved you, we could always … there’d be the chance for us to try again in the future.”

It was possible he could survive the loss of another child, as long as he had Luhan at his side.

Luhan posed, “Ask yourself honestly, if we lost Youri, would you want to try again?”

“No,” Sehun said honestly.

“I’m not saying save Youri first if you have to, to be honorable.” Luhan eyes were so intense Sehun couldn’t help believe every word he said. “I’m saying save Youri first if you have to because she’s my daughter and I love her more than anyone else in the world. I don’t say this lightly, Sehun, but I won’t live in a world without her.”

“I can’t talk about this anymore,” Sehun said, feeling as if he might burst into tears at any moment. “I won’t.”

“You don’t have to,” Luhan said kindly. “As long as you promise me that if there are complications, and if a choice has to be made, you’ll save Youri.”

With a forced laugh, Sehun said, “Maybe you don’t realize how important you are to me. Maybe you don’t realize how much I love you and how I can’t get lucky again. Finding you after Jae, loving you after him, that was a million to one shot. It won’t happen again, and I don’t want it to. If you were gone, there’d be nothing left for me.”

“No?” Luhan ambled himself up and around the table to sit next to Sehun. “You’d have Youri,” he said pointedly, pressing Sehun’s hand against his stomach. “You’d have plenty to go on for. And for her, you would.”

Sehun bowed his head, feeling his daughter shift under Luhan’s skin. “I’m not as confident in myself, as you seem to be in me.”

“I’m more than confident,” Luhan said, tilting his head in for a kiss.

“All right,” Sehun said finally, but it felt like a lie he was telling himself, or a truth too terrible to keep. “If I have to, I’ll do what you want.”

Voice tender, Luhan said, “Hey. Sehun. I know this is a necessary evil to talk about, but I have no intention of forcing you to put this choice into practical use. Look, we’re going to be cautious about the delivery, but also hopeful. I don’t know about you, but I plan to go in there, not have any problems, deliver a beautiful, healthy baby girl, and be able to go home in a couple of days. How does that sound to you?”

Sehun pushed down slightly on Luhan’s stomach, against the pressure of their daughter kicking at him. “I know you’ll do your best. For her, and for us.”

But how much of what happened on the twenty-first would even be up to Luhan? Luhan was an absolute fighter. He was strong and Sehun believed that he would give everything he had into having a safe delivery.

There just was no guarantee.

Luhan made no move to switch back to his previous seat, but he did pull his plate across the table so it was in front of him again. “You know,” he said, wrestling up the rest of his huge burger, “when the delivery goes perfectly fine, I’m going to have a rough recovery. I’ll have to stay in the hospital for at least a couple of days, and we’ll have nurses to help us with Youri then. But afterwards? I might not even be able to lift her without pulling my stitches. I’ll need you.”

Sehun said quickly, “You know I’ll be there for you however you want.”

“Then,” Luhan decided, “you should stay with us for the first couple of weeks.”

“Are you sure?” Sehun asked. They had most certainly just restarted their relationship, and even their friendship was a bit fragile. Sehun was worried that being in such close proximity for such a long time would do anything but endear him to Luhan.

“I’ll need you, and so will Youri,” Luhan said confidently. “Stay with us, help me take care of her, and then I’ll feel better. I think you will, too.”

Finally Sehun reached back for his sandwich. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“You get to want things too,” Luhan pointed out. “But yes, this is what I want.”

With the first bit of happiness he’d felt in a while, Sehun said, “Actually, you might need me?”

“Hm?” Luhan’s mouth was full of hamburger again and Sehun wondered if he’d want a second one.

Sehun patted Luhan’s stomach fondly. “We already know so much about Youri. We know our girl is active and maybe even nocturnal. She doesn’t like being ignored, not even for a little bit, and neither one of us is likely going to have any resistance to her cuteness for decades to come.”

Luhan burst out laughing, “God help us when she starts crawling.”

Sehun paled. “Or walking. Luhan, what happens when she starts walking? She’ll get into everything and what if there are stairs and she--”

“We,” Luhan said calmingly, “will never let her out of our sight. They have this term for overprotective parents. It’s called helicopter parenting. I think that’ll be us in a nutshell, just hovering over Youri, circling her, driving her crazy.”

“Isn’t that how we know we’re doing our job? When she complains about how we’re smothering her?”

Luhan leaned against Sehun, all warmth and softness now. “We’re going to be just fine as parents, Sehun. Have a little faith.”

Faith was something Sehun hadn’t had in a long time.

Neither losing Jae nor finding Luhan had made a believer out of him, and he didn’t think anything else would either.

But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to pray a little. Just in case.

“I love you,” Suhun said suddenly, startling Luhan with his intensity. “I love you so much, Luhan.”

With some confusion on his face, Luhan returned, “I love you too. Sehun, I promise, everything is going to work out. We didn’t fight this hard to get here, to lose it all in the end. We’re going to mend. It’s slow going, but we’re going to get there.”

Sehun wanted to believe him so badly.

Only Jae had said something far too similar. Jae had said, days before his death, “Don’t worry so much, Sehun. We worked hard to get here, we deserve our happy ending.”

The words were too similar and too heart wrenching.

Forcing himself to smile, Sehun mentioned, “You know you’re not actually supposed to eat for two? The baby doesn’t need a full adult sized serving.” He gave Luhan a pointed look when long, slender fingers curled up onto the edge of Sehun’s plate, Luhan’s own already empty.

Sehun gave a short and surprised cry as Luhan’s elbow landed against his ribs. “I’m carrying your daughter and you want to make jokes like that.”

“I want,” Sehun clarified, pressing a kiss to the side of Luhan’s head, “to remind you that having gestational diabetes means carb counting, and that bread has a lot of crabs. That’s all.”

With the smallest of pouts, Luhan said, “I’m still hungry. I thought the incessant need to eat all the time was supposed to drop off at the end.”

Sehun resisted the urge to rub at Luhan’s stomach again. Six weeks. In six weeks he was going to have his daughter in his arms. They only had to make it six weeks.

“If you’re still hungry,” Sehun decided, pushing back as he stood, “we’ll go get an after lunch treat. Frozen yoghurt?”

It was more than a little funny how fast Luhan fought to get to his feet. “Watermelon flavored.”

“You’ve got it.” Sehun reached for his wallet and tried to enjoy the time he had left with Luhan before he had to go back to work.

Two days later and the worry was still eating away at him. There was something that felt like unresolved tension in his body, and it felt more and more clear what he had to do.

He’d promised Luhan some time ago that eventually he’d take Luhan to see Jae, but this seemed like something he had to do for himself. And he hoped he’d heal a bit along the way.

Almost halfway through November the weather was terrible. While Sehun was placated with the notion that Luhan was tucked safely away with his friends in a warm coffee shop, Sehun battled the wind and the rain and the threat of snow, to make the long drive to the coastline. He drove as carefully as he could, trying not to end up a wreck on the side of the road, and made an entire day of it.

Sehun had said to Luhan, when he’d asked weeks earlier, that Jae was buried near his family home. The truth was it was a more secluded area than he’d implied, and there were no roads to the exact spot. He’d have to walk, and get muddy. It seemed a small price to pay.

Bundled up in his winter coat, flowers tucked to his chest, and an umbrella held over his head, Sehun departed his car in the early afternoon and started up a nearby hill. His eyes watched keenly for the tree he knew Jae was buried under, though he knew it was too soon to see it.

There was some relief in him when he finally spotted the tree, then the headstone. But mostly it was apprehension.

“Jae,” he breathed out when he was in front of the headstone. He’d wanted Jae to be cremated. He’d said so only once, and let the matter drop when Jae’s parents had insisted he be buried at his favorite spot in the world, but Sehun had wanted, at the time, to be able to keep even the smallest part of Jae. Sehun had wanted an urn to sit in his living room, so he could look at it whenever he wanted.

With freezing, stiff fingers, Sehun brushed off some of the debris that had caught on the headstone from the tree, forced there by the wind. He wiped the stone clean and offered it the smallest of smiles before kneeling down to place his carefully selected flowers into the pot next to the headstone.

“Hi.”

He could barely feel the stone as he touched it, but he let his fingers trail over the symbols of Jae’s name and the message underneath. “I’m sorry I’ve been away so long.”

His knees sinking into the muddle soil underneath him, Sehun bowed his head. “I miss you.”

Being in love with Luhan did not take away from the loneliness he felt from Jae’s absence. Jae was a love Sehun had known for many, many years. Jae, though not without his flaws, had been perfect to Sehun in every single way, and the kind of man Sehun had wanted to have grandkids with some day. Jae had made Sehun laugh all the time, and feel warm and safe and comforted with a mere look. Jae, in a lot of ways, had always felt like Sehun’s soul mate.

He could picture Jae’s face so perfectly, youthful and bright.

“I know, I know,” Sehun chuckled. “I’m lazy and you have every right to yell at me for taking so long to come out here. I just … I hope you understand, I wasn’t ready.”

It wasn’t as if Luhan had made him ready, but before, coming to see where his husband was buried felt like a death sentence for Sehun as well. He was afraid he’d kneel in front of Jae’s headstone and never be able to get up, or cry himself to death. He couldn’t bear to face the end of the best thing in his life, and the only thing, for a time, that had been worth living for.

“I’m not a believer,” Sehun said frankly. Next he reached his fingers out for Seoyoung’s name. “I know you did, and who knows which of us ended up being right. Maybe god is up there and maybe he isn’t. But I kind of hope he is now, and I’ve never felt that way before. Because I want you to still exist somehow. I want to imagine that you’re up in heaven with Seoyoung and you’re looking down on me and watching me. Jae, I can’t stand thinking that you’re just gone forever, rotting away in the ground.”

The wind was whipping at his umbrella so badly that Sehun closed it, afraid that it would snap back, or break. He tucked the collapsed umbrella under his arm and tipped his head back towards the clouds, letting the rain splatter against his skin.

“I met someone. If you’re up there in heaven, you know I met Luhan. You know I love him. You know we’re having a daughter, too. We’re naming her Youri. Or, well that’s her Korean name. Luhan is Chinese, so it’s important to him that she has a Chinese name as well. Her Chinese name is going to be Daiyu, and I think that’s so pretty.”

Sehun placed his hands firmly on the muddy ground and curled forward to bow to the headstone. “I love him so much, Jae. I know you’re gone and I can’t have you back, and I know moving on is what happens in life. So I want you to know that I’m not saying I’m in love with Luhan lightly. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, and if he wants, eventually have a bigger family. I want to get to see him every day, and hold him, and I want to marry him. I want that, Jae. But I’m so scared something is going to happen to him like it happened to you.”

He had long since accepted the fact that Jae would have wanted him to move on. He’d have wanted Sehun to find happiness with Luhan, because that was the kind of person Jae was. So Sehun could imagine him now, arms crossed and looking displeased at Sehun’s blind grasping for convenient faith.

“Just please,” Sehun said, “please watch out for Luhan. If you’re up there, and you can do anything, please watch over him. Protect him if you can, and protect Youri. If anything happens to them, I won’t do this again. I can’t.”

Jae had always said that faith meant believing in both the good time and the bad.

So naturally Sehun felt compelled to add, “I know this isn’t how it’s supposed to work. I know if I were god, I’d be pretty pissed off some guy was asking for a favor when he spent almost all his life not believing in anything. But Jae, if you can do anything, please do it. Please.”

It was a comforting thought to imagine Jae as a guardian angel of sorts.

“But if you can’t,” he found himself saying, fisting his hands in his lap, awkwardly, shaking with coldness. “If you can’t, I understand. Hell, for all I know this is completely pointless and there’s nothing after death. I still don’t think there is. But if there’s even a chance I’m wrong, and you can do anything, Jae, protect Luhan.”

The rain was beating down so hard on the flowers Sehun had brought that the petals were being battered in an abused way. The sight made Sehun want to lean forward and shield the flowers, or at least what they represented.

“If you’re up there,” Sehun said, voice puffing out white from the temperature, “you’re taking care of our girl, right? How is she? I’m really jealous, Jae. I would have given anything to hold her before she died. I was always envious of you, getting to feel her all the time, getting to have that connection with her. It made losing her all that more difficult in the end, because I never got to touch her once.”

For all the pain and loss that had come with loving Jae, never once had Sehun regretted anything with him. It was only things with Seoyoung that Sehun regretted, and none of them were anyone’s fault.

Eventually the chill seeped so deeply into Sehun’s bones that he was in considerable pain. His clothing was soaked through and there was so much water on his face that he could barely see straight.

Leaning forward he pressed his fingers to his lips, and then his fingers to the grave marker. “I love you,” he said, teeth chattering together. “I will always love you and I will never forget you. But I want to have a future with Luhan. Youri will know who Seoyoung is, I promise you. And I’ll bring Luhan to meet you as soon as he has the baby and is recovered.”

He stood as fast as he could, which was agonizingly slow, reminding him of how long he’d been kneeling in the cold. His legs shook, numb and almost unfeeling, and Sehun steadied himself on the grave marker.

“I’ve got to go now.”

Sehun lingered for a just a moment later, then turned reluctantly and hobbled his way back to his car a distance away.

He might have sat in his car for another twenty minutes, the heater running on full blast, feeling uncomfortable in his wet clothing. And then he might definitely have sobbed.

He took his time driving back to Seoul, contemplating if he’d wasted his time or not. He was not a believer. He’d gone to church with Jae to satisfy someone he loved. But that was it. Sehun’s gut told him that death was the end, and that rationally, there was no such thing as god or heaven or anything afterwards. It was more than likely he’d just spent and wasted time kneeling in front of a marker that meant nothing.

But talking to Jae, and just being near all that remained of him, had made him feel better. Even if there was no guardian angel lurking around to protect Luhan and Youri, Sehun’s anxiety was settled a bit.

And if that was the case, did it really matter at all if god existed?

Sehun wasn’t ready to make any definitive declarations just yet. He only knew that he felt as if Jae cold rest in his mind now, and maybe even that Luhan felt a little safer. And for Sehun, that meant the trip wasn’t wasted at all. And neither were the prayers.

Chapter Text

Luhan pushed through the crowd of people loitering around the restaurant and bar, and his eyes searched for who he was meeting. The space was loud and humid, with too many people bringing up the temperature in a contrast to the rain and chill outside.

If Luhan had had his way, he would have been home right now, hopefully with Xiumin, the two of them eating a late dinner and watching Korean dramas that Xiumin pretended he wasn’t obsessed with. Luhan had seen his DVR. Luhan knew better.

But instead he as here, doing what needed to be done. And he wasn’t leaving until he got what he wanted.

Squeezing past a couple of men, likely coworkers, who were already completely drunk, Luhan finally found Baekhyun at one of the corner tables, halfway through his meal.

“I’m here,” Luhan said, sliding into the chair across from him. He didn’t apologize for being late. He’d had to take the bus, not that he’d mention it to any one of the paranoid people hovering around him now, and the bus always ran slower when the weather was bad.

Baekhyun gave a nod to the bag Luhan was carrying with him, more like a briefcase that was now tucked into his lap. “You have your machete hidden in there?”

Luhan pulled a smile of his face. “Don’t worry, Baekhyun, if I ever decide to deal with you, it’ll be in a back alley where no one can come to your aid. I’d never hurt you in public, knowing I’d get deported to China for killing someone.”

Baekhyun, who looked to be having black bean noodles, actually returned a smile to Luhan. “At this point, Sehun would probably volunteer to drive the car that runs me down in that back alley.”

“Can you blame him?” Luhan crossed his arms. “You were a total asshole to me.”

Next Baekhyun laughed. “I might have been completely wrong when I told Chanyeol you were spineless.”

“You’re really not racking up any points here.”

And no matter what Luhan got from Baekhyun with his attitude, he reasoned that having so much tension between them wasn’t ultimately what Baekhyun wanted. More than that, Baekhyun probably wanted his friend Sehun back, and there was no way Sehun was budging until Luhan proved that he’d forgiven him. Considering Luhan needed them all to be a unified force when Youri came into the world, everything had to be dealt with and soon.

“I believe,” Luhan said, “you left me quite a few messages saying that I was a lying, cheating, backstabbing, no good, sorry excuse for a human being. And those were the nice ones.”

A little defensively, Baekhyun said, “I believed at the time, as you very well know, that you were trying to steal one of my best friend’s kids out from under him.”

“And now you know I’m not?”

Baekhyun set his chopsticks and fork to the side and gave somber nod. “Sehun set everyone right. Or more like he ripped everyone a new asshole.”

“Then what’s your problem now?” Luhan asked. His stomach was rumbling in some kind of hunger, but he’d only eaten a few hours before and he wanted to hold off. His delivery date was coming up soon and the last thing he wanted was to pack on an extra baby weight that he’d have to work off afterwards. “All your other friends apologized.”

Baekhyun wondered, “Did that take away from what they’d done to you?”

After a moment’s thought, Luhan admitted, “No. I still look at them and see people who were irrational and hurtful to me. But they still apologized, and I won’t always see them that way because of that. More than that, it means something to Sehun that they humbled themselves and apologized. Haven’t you heard, Sehun’s talking to all of them again. He’s going out to spend time with them, and he eats with them. But not you. You’re the lone man out. Sehun’s forgiven them, because they apologized and are trying to make amends. What’s your problem?”

Irritated, Baekhyun said, “I don’t know why I should have to apologize when this happened during a time period where Sehun did something even worse.”

Luhan felt frustration in him risking. Baekhyun had never been the easiest to get along with, but now it was downright impossible.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Luhan snapped. “That’s not what I’m here for. Honestly, I don’t personally give a damn about your apology. You’re not my friend, Baekhyun. I’m not going to cry myself to sleep over how much a dick you are. You’re not worth anything to me in that regard.”

Baekhyun looked away quickly.

Breathing in deep, Luhan said, “But I love Sehun. I am very much in love with him, and while we’re still recovering from something that rocked us hard, all I can see in my future is Sehun. There’s always a chance things will change, but for right now, I’m planning on raising my daughter with Sehun. I plan on loving him for decades more, maybe living with him, possibly getting married, and who knows, there might be more kids eventually. My point is, Sehun is a priority to me in my life, and so is helping him deal with things that are impeding his ability to deal with the anger and hurt he’s been feeling for a while. You’re a speedbump. His issues with you are a speedbump.”

“So you’re here to make nice with me for Sehun?”

Luhan nodded. “Because I love him, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him. Can’t you say the same for Taeyeon?”

Baekhyun’s features softened at her mention, and Luhan supposed he’d won a victory of words at least.

“No matter what I think of the person you are now,” Luhan continued, “you were there for Sehun during the worst moments of his life. You supported him and cared for him, and loved him like a brother would. That’s invaluable. So I’m going to propose a deal. I’ll tell Sehun that you groveled, and that I accepted your apology for being absolutely wrong and a heinous asshole at that, and in return, you do something for me.”

Reaching once more for his utensils, Baekhyun questioned, “Why should I care about making a deal with you?”

The restaurant was only getting louder as more people poured in, and the ones near the front who were already drunk, began playing a drinking game. Luhan couldn’t wait to get out of the stuffy building.

“Because Sehun matters to you.” Luhan held Baekhyun’s gaze easily. “Sehun is like a brother to you. You care about him more than you’ll admit to me, which means it’s an awful lot. And I know that you wouldn’t care about him so much if you hadn’t tried to attack me in the only way you knew how when Sehun and I had our misunderstand. It must be hurting you terribly to know Sehun cut you out of his life so easily, and that to him right now, you don’t even exist.”

Baekhyun asked sullenly, “What kind of deal?”

At that cue, Luhan reached into the bag and pulled out a heavy folder that he’d kept sheltered from the rain outside. He set it on the table and said, “I’m five weeks away from delivery now. So naturally, my doctor and Sehun and I have been discussing some … delicate matters that haven’t been easy on Sehun. Mostly about the delivery and the possibility of complications.

To his credit, Baekyhun went pale in almost a second. “There’s going to be complications?”

“It is major surgery,” Luhan said patiently. “And I have other risk factors going for me right now. I won’t get into any of them, considering they’re one of your business. But suffice to say, if there’s any major bleeding, my blood may not clot as well as anyone hopes, and my blood pressure is steadily creeping up, which is never good.”

“But you’re going to be okay with the delivery, right? And Youri?”

Baekhyun was so damn complicated he made Luhan’s head ache at times. He was radiating genuine concern and it was baffling.

“Sehun and I have been discussing if the worst case should happen and either my vitals drop, or Youri goes into distress. Sehun and I have been deciding about what kind of choices need to be made if it comes down to either myself or Youri being prioritized.”

Almost angrily, Baekhyun asked, “How can you talk about that stuff with Sehun? Didn’t he suffer enough with Jae and Seoyoung?”

“I have to talk about this with him because of them,” Luhan said peevishly. “Sehun said that the doctors tried to save Jae first, after the accident. They thought there was little chance for Seoyoung because of the trauma associated with the type of accident, so they wrote her off and focused on Jae. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen. I don’t want a doctor to make the decision for me. I want to decide beforehand.”

Luhan put his hand gently on the file as Baekhyun asked, “What did you two decide?”

Offering Baekhyun an encouraging smile, Luhan said, “That Youri has to come first. If there’s a choice to be made, Sehun and I have agreed to prioritize Youri.”

Baekhyun sat back in shock. “Sehun agreed to just … risk you like that?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Luhan chuckled out, “I want to live. I want to live very badly. But I don’t want to live at the expense of my daughter, and I won’t live in a world where I had to sacrifice her in order to have that life. If I wanted to put myself first, I could have terminated the pregnancy the moment I found out about it. And seriously, Baekhyun, stop looking like I’m headed towards a death sentence. I have all the faith in the world that things will go perfectly fine, but just in case, I want to have a contingency plan.”

“I just …” Baekhyun shook his head slowly. “I can’t believe Sehun agreed to put you second, even for Youri. You’re …”

“I’m what?” Luhan asked.

“He loves you,” Baekhyun said flatly. “And it’s just as much as he loved Jae, or maybe even more. I know what Sehun looks like when he’s in love, and you’re practically shining the sun out of your ass, as far as he’s concerned.”

“This relates to the deal I want to make with you.”

Baekhyun pressed on, “If Jae had lived, and only Seoyoung had died, I think Sehun would have been okay. He wouldn’t have hit rock bottom like he did. I can’t believe for a second he’s willing to risk you, even if it means losing another daughter.”

Holding up a protesting finger, Luhan said, “I think you’re wrong. Seoyoung living would have given Sehun purpose and determination to get through each day. She would have kept him sane. That’s what I told Sehun about Youri. Even if I die, he’ll have her. It’s important that he has her. There’s no one more important he can have after that.”

With his food forgotten, Baehyun shook his head. “Are you honestly telling me that he agreed to put Youri’s life ahead of yours if there are any complications?”

Luhan tipped his head. “He said so. But I don’t believe him.”

Baekhyun grunted out, “Neither do I.”

“And,” Luhan said, “I am not going to be laying on that operating table, scared and in pain and worried, thinking to myself that at any time things could go wrong and Sehun might go back on his word. So I’m getting insurance against that.”

Baekhyun’s eyes flickered down to the folder. “What kind of insurance?”

Opening the folder, Luhan pulled up several sheets of paper. “Sehun I think, if it comes down to it, will be too afraid to lose the person he allowed himself to love again. And I think Suho might also support him in that. I can’t trust Xiumin to put Youri first because he’s my best friend and he’ll likely prioritize me. So that leaves you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” Luhan had spent days thinking his decision over. “You’re the one who likes me the least, and I think I can trust you to recognize that if Sehun loses Youri, there won’t be any coming back from the place he’ll sink into. There won’t be a third chance for Sehun. And honestly, I think you care more about Youri than you do me.”

Unsure, Baekhyun asked, “So you want me there when you deliver … to do what? Convince Sehun that if there’s a problem, to forfeit your life for Youri’s?”

“Please,” Luhan laughed out, “you’re Sehun’s friend, but not even you could convince him of that.”

With that he handed over the first of the paperwork to Baekhyun, then he sat back and waited.

There was confusion on Baekhyun’s face first, his eyes skimming the words, and then outrage. “Are you serious?”

“Very.” Luhan reminded, “I don’t expect anything to go wrong. This is me just being careful, given that I’ve had cramping and early contractions, and dealing with both blood sugar issues and now blood pressure, I want to be sure. I trust my doctor, and I trust that I’ll come through just fine and this is for nothing. It just never hurts to be cautious.”

Baekhyun shook the papers held between his stiff fingers. “You have got to be kidding me!”

Luhan raised an eyebrow. “You understand what I’m asking of you?”

Incredulously, and probably too loud, Baekhyun asked, “You want me to have … some kind of medical authority?”

“I want you to be my medical proxy,” Luhan clarified. “For the next couple of months, at least. It means that if I’m incapacitated, and unable to make decisions for myself, you get to make them for me.”

“But me?”

Firmly, Luhan said, “I want to know that when I go to the hospital, anything and everything is going to be done to give my daughter the best fighting chance to survive. I am not coming home without her. I am not going to let the doctors sacrifice her life to try and save mine. That is not going to happen, and I know you’ll make a call that puts her first. No one else will.”

Baekhyun’s eyes were a little wet as he asked, “How can you give this kind of power to me?”

“Because I’m desperate,” Luhan said dryly. “Because I want you to listen to me in all seriousness when I tell you that if Youri dies and it’s so I can live, more than one soul is going to be gone from this world. You can interpret that however you want. But if you want to save lives, you’ll sign the paper and be prepared to make the call to put Youri first if you have to. I do truly love Sehun, but I can’t trust him with this. I don’t believe he’ll save Youri first.”

Voice shaking, Baekhyun demanded, “Is this even legal? How can I have priority over Sehun in any medical situation? Even if I sign these papers, Youri is still Sehun’s daughter.”

“You think I didn’t make sure I knew what I was doing before I came here with this?” Luhan was a little insulted. “Korean law stipulates that I’ve got final authority over the baby before she’s born. And I can dictate that authority to anyone I want during that time. So technically, that control defaults to Sehun the moment she’s born, but before then, if I sign you on as my medical proxy, you supersede Sehun. And I don’t care if Sehun has all the authority and power in the world after she’s born, as long as before that, he isn’t in charge.”

Baekhyun pointed out, “You know he’s going to be pissed as hell when he finds out about this, right?”

Hope soared in Luhan’s chest. Did that mean Baekhyun was going to agree?

“Chances are,” Luhan said, “with some luck as well, he’ll never need to know. I’m not just rambling when I say I have faith in the doctor who’ll be delivering Youri. I believe everything will go well during the surgery, and afterwards I’ll have you taken off as my medical proxy, and everything will go back to normal.”

Baekhyun asked, “This is the deal? You tell Sehun that I made things right with you, and in return, I remain silent about this unless I have to tell the doctor to try and save Youri first?”

“Exactly.”

Baekhyun snorted. “If I have to say something to the doctor, and that’s how Sehun finds out, I’m the one who’s going to be in danger of dying.”

“Maybe at first,” Luhan allowed. “Then the doctor will put Youri in Sehun’s arms and nothing else will matter to him.” He retrieved a pen from his bag and set it near Baekhyun’s hand. “Now, do we have a deal?”

Baekhyun reached slowly for the pen, and posed the question, “How you do you know that if, god forbid something happens during that surgery, I won’t pick you like everyone else would? Maybe this means nothing and I’ll do the opposite of what you want. You don’t have a guarantee.”

The crowd of drunks gave a roar of something pleasing in the background and Luhan said, “I suppose you’re right. You could pull a fast one on me. But I’m trusting you won’t, because I think even you can see how important Youri is for Sehun, and how no parent ever wants to outlive their child. Some can’t stand it.”

In a flash Baehyun snatched up the paper and signed his name at the bottom. There were more pages to sign as well, and the whole thing, between the way Baekhyun hastily read the information, to how he paused to make his signature legible, took almost ten minutes.

Then finally Baekhyun had signed the last page and he put the pen down, saying, “If your delivery of Youri goes fine, you and I will never speak of this again. And if something goes wrong, and the doctor wants to know who to try and save first, I’ll tell them it’s Youri. You have my word.”

With shaking fingers Luhan took the papers back and tucked them safely away in his bag. “Thank you, Baekhyun. I’ll make sure Sehun knows that things are better between us. I know he’ll want to hang out with you. I can tell he’s wanted to for a while now, he just hasn’t been able to bring himself to call you up. That’ll change.”

Baekhyun’s lips pressed tersely for a second, then he asked, “You want to stay for dinner?”

Pulling the bag’s strap over his head, Luhan shook his head. “I should get going, and you’re almost finished anyway.”

Baekhyun was beyond complicated, and Luhan wasn’t certain he’d ever fully understand the man. He only knew that they’d done more than just reach a business agreement that night. Now Baekhyun was looking at him somewhat softer, and with more patience. It almost seemed like they’d actually repaired the tentative friendship they’d had going before. Or at least started down that road. If so, Luhan had to be pleased. Baekhyun was important to Sehun, so he’d be important to Youri. In some way, that meant he had to be important to Luhan. Or at least bearable.

“Luhan,” Baekhyun said, catching his wrist suddenly.

“Huh?”

Shoulders falling, Baekhyun said, “I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. I’m sorry for constantly being an asshole to you even after you constantly prove yourself.”

Frowning, Luhan said, “You don’t have to apologize. We have a deal.”

“This isn’t about the deal,” Baekhyun shot back. “This is about me being mad at myself.”

“Mad?” Luhan asked.

“Because I keep telling myself you’re this certain kind of person,” Baekhyun said, “and you keep proving me wrong.”

Luhan pulled his wrist away from Baehyun with a smile. “If it makes you feel any better, just when I think I have it pinned down what kind of person you are, you constantly make me rethink myself. Baekhyun, enjoy your meal. I’m sure Sehun will call you soon, and thank you for making sure that my daughter has the best chance at survival possible.”

Baekhyun gave a short laugh. “You’re going to be an amazing dad, Luhan. Give me some pointers one day, okay?”

It was kind of ridiculous how likable Baekhyun could be at times, when he wasn’t busy being an asshole.

Weaving his way through the tables, and ducking past even more inebriated people, Luhan couldn’t help but feel like he’d completely accomplished what he’d set out to do. Baekhyun had agreed to be his medical proxy in case of an emergency, and Sehun and Baekhyun were back on their way to being good friends.

Luhan was absolutely contemplating stopping by a nearby bakery and picking himself a congratulatory sweet up when there was a roar of sound, and then something akin a wrecking ball slammed into him.

The air was knocked immediately from his body with a painful tug, and his feet slid out from under him. Arms flailing madly Luhan tried to brace himself on the nearby table, shouting with panic and fear.

A second heavy weight toppled against him, and with that he smashed into a nearby table of patrons. It was only momentarily, however, as the weight on top of him dragged him down quickly, squishing him onto the floor and knocking his head against a chair with a definitive thud.

Disoriented and unsure, Luhan curled in on himself, his thoughts hazy, his mind drifting. He couldn’t figure out what had happened, why he was in so much pain, or how he’d gotten on the floor.

That was the ceiling above him, he recognized.

And all around him he could hear intense, almost guttural screaming going on as chaos broke out.

And painful ripples of white hot pain were stabbing at him from his head to his legs. The pain was so intense he could only moan a bit and barely move, his fingers scratching at the scuffed hardwood floor.

Baekhyun came out of nowhere, barely in Luhan’s periphery, red faced and fists like furry.

There was a fight going on around him. The sounds and yelling finally made sense, as did the sight of tables flipping, people stumbling around, and Baekhyun kicking viciously at someone who’d stepped dangerously close to Luhan’s splayed fingers.

With his vision going blurry, then dark around the edges, Baekhyun dropped down in front of him, downright terror on his face.

“Luhan!”

Luhan blinked sluggishly at him. “Baekhyun?”

Baehyun pressed in close. “There’s an ambulance on the way. Just hold on, okay?”

Oh, god. Luhan felt the pain in him for what it was. “Youri,” he managed, wondering why there were two Baekhyun’s in front of him all of the sudden. “Baekhyun, I can’t …” There was so much pain in him, but he couldn’t feel her, and that wasn’t like her at all. She could scarcely let him go five seconds without making her presence known.

Baekhyun’s hand pressed down against his stomach and when Luhan arched out in pain, Baekhyun choked out, “I’m sorry! Luhan, I’m so sorry.”

“Youri,” he tried again, because he had to tell Baekhyun something was wrong with her. He had to let Baekhyun know that she wasn’t moving. He couldn’t feel her at all, and that meant something catastrophically bad.

With pins and needles prickling across his skin, Baekhyun wrenched Luhan’s hand up into his own and swore once more, “You are going to be okay. The ambulance is on the way.”

There were people staggering around them, some of them bleeding, more of them looking scared and unsure.

Baekhyun’s face blurred out after that, meshing into a blob of skin and hair.

And finally, after what seemed like an unbearable amount of time, the pain started to recede as well. It faded until he couldn’t feel anything, not even Baekhyun holding his hand.

This wasn’t how it ended, he told himself. This wasn’t how anything ended. He wouldn’t allow it, and no one did stubborn like Luhan did.

But one more shuddering breath later and Luhan lost complete control of his body. One more after that and he was out like a light.

When he woke up again it was to the sharp fear of blindness. Everything was dark.

But his eyes adjusted a moment more and he realized there was some moonlight streaming in from the nearby window, and there was a steady glow from the machines next to his bed.

Hospital. He was clearly in the hospital, if the starchy sheets underneath him, to the sting of the IV at the back of his hand, meant anything.

“No, I’m serious, don’t come down here.”

The voice was at a whisper when Luhan heard it, and he traced the sound to the corner of the room where Sehun was standing. And he looked utterly defeated, shoulders hunched in and his back to Luhan. He had his left arm braced up against one of the walls and a phone pressed to his right ear.

“Mom,” he sighed out. “The waiting room is already full of people who refuse to go home. Yes … yes, I know you’re not them. I know you’re Youri’s grandmother. But Luhan is out cold and it won’t make any difference if you come down here and wait with the others right now or if you come tomorrow when the sun is up.”

Luhan looked from the IV lines at the back of his hand to the drip hanging nearby, and the extra monitors that he’d never seen before. But then he did recognize one, and he knew what it was all too well. A fetal monitor. There was a machine tracking Youri’s heartbeat, which was beautiful in how it was beating even if Luhan couldn’t currently feel her. The numbness and panic was gone, which was all that mattered.

“Mom,” Sehun said, sounding absolutely weary. “I honestly don’t want you down here. Don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t want anyone. I just want to sit next to Luhan and hold his hand tonight and deal with how scared I still am. Can you come tomorrow? I’ll need your support for when I talk to the police.”

Luhan frowned. “Sehun?” His mouth was dry and almost felt swollen, but he managed to get the word out barely.

“Luhan!”

Luhan wasn’t sure Sehun had even hung up properly with his mother. But a second later Sehun was at his side, kissing his mouth chastely but desperately, one hand cradling the swell of Youri with his long fingers.

“How are you feeling?” Sehun had tears in his eyes. “I’m going to get a doctor.”

“No.” Luhan barely managed to snag Sehun’s sleeve. “I’m … just me and you, please. For now.”

“Okay.” Sehun’s forehead pressed against Luhan’s softly, hand not letting up from Luhan’s stomach for a second. “I know you must be scared, but you’re going to be okay. You’re okay and so is Youri.”

“What happened?” Luhan asked, happily accepting a small glass of water from the nearby table. Sehun helped him lean up just enough to take a few sips. “I can’t …” Luhan cleared his throat and bit and it saved him from having to admit that his mind was almost completely blank.

He remembered meeting Baekhyun, and he remembered Baekhyun agreeing to become his medical proxy. But then? Nothing.

“The way I hear it,” Sehun said with a frustrated huff, “there was a fight at the restaurant you were at. Some asshole knocked into you and you fell. You hit your head, it was a mild concussion, and you bruised some ribs. But, thank god, there’s no permanent damage and Youri stayed safely right where she is. Your protected her, Luhan.”

There were sudden glimpses in his mind and he told Sehun firmly, “No, Baekhyun protected me.”

Confusion flooded Sehun’s face. “Baehyun? What?”

Luhan managed one more sip of water and nodded. “I remember … something hit me hard. I fell on the ground.” The events were so murky, but Baekhyun was now in his mind. “Baekhyun pushed people away from me. He kept me from getting hit again.” More like punched and kicked people away, but Luhan had absolutely no doubt now that without Baekhyun he’d have gotten stepped on or worse.

“Baekhyun?” Sehun asked again.

Luhan nodded surely. “Thank him, Sehun. He stayed with me. He held my hand. That means more to me than anything else.”

“Why were you with Baekhyun?”

Not to lie, Luhan said simply, “We were working our differences out. Coming to an agreement, if you will.”

Sehun pressed forward to lay his head against Luhan’s stomach, and when he did, Luhan felt the first blissful movement from Youri since the fight. Maybe she’d just been sleeping.

Sehun said, “I wondered why he was already in the waiting room when I arrived. I expected him to be the last to arrive, or maybe show at all.”

Luhan put a hand on the back of Sehun’s head, holding him close to Youri. “Waiting room?”

“Everyone is there,” Sehun said, and his voice rumbled against Luhan’s skin with only a thin hospital gown between. “No one wants to leave, just in case.”

“Well,” Luhan insisted, feeling the strands of Sehun’s soft hair pass through his fingers, “they can wait if they want, but I’d feel better if they went home and rested.” He just wanted Sehun, and he wanted to stay with him like this forever … sans the hospital, of course.

“I thought the world was ending,” Sehun said quietly, his skin so pale under the moonlight. “When the hospital called me … when they said you’d been admitted and it was serious, I thought the world was ending. I couldn’t stand up straight, I couldn’t think or move or talk, and I still don’t know how Chen got me here. Suho must have helped.”

“Sorry,” Luhan said, voice still a little scratchy. “This is the last thing I wanted to put you through.”

Sehun grumbled, “It’s not your fault some drunken asshole plowed into you. And when the police get here tomorrow to take your statement, I’m going to make sure they do something.”

Luhan wasn’t sure that was what he wanted. “They were just a bunch of drunks, Sehun.”

“And they could have cost us everything,” Sehun said, his fingers tracing Youri’s movements. “If you’d fallen just a little different, or hit something the wrong way … you could have lost Youri, and I could have lost you both.”

“But no one set out to hurt me maliciously. It was an accident.”

There was such disagreement on Sehun’s face. He looked severe and angry and like this was something he’d fight Luhan on until the bitter end.

Shaking his head a little, Sehun asked, “Will you let me put you in bubble wrap now? I can go to the post office the first thing in the morning and--”

Luhan tugged Sehun into a soft kiss. “Accidents happen, Sehun. You know this better than anyone. But sometimes we get lucky like we just did. Let’s be happy for that, okay? And no bubble wrap, I don’t want you to roll me down the street.”

Sehun gave a chuckle and then rose to finally find a doctor to look Luhan over.

By the time the doctor arrived, who was Eunji with a stern look, Luhan was starting to drift back into sleep. His whole body was achy and from the burn in his chest when he breathed, Sehun had to be telling the truth about his ribs.

“You know I’m only interested in seeing you here when we have our scheduled appointments,” Eunji said.

Through heavily lidded eyes, Luhan said, “I’m actually trying my best here.”

He heard her say, “You’re going to be okay, Luhan.” Then he was sleeping again.

The morning brought a whole slew of people to his hospital room. He had heard rumors that he’d be released the next day, but until then he was enjoying having a private room and plenty of company.

Well, for the most part.

Because there was also a lot of lecturing to endure, mostly from Xiumin, who declared quite purposefully, “You’re never going anywhere without me again.”

“You do seem to attract trouble fairly easily,” Suho said, and Luhan wasn’t sure how to reply. There was still a great deal of awkwardness between them. Luhan didn’t know how to put from his mind the fact that he’d felt more betrayed by Suho, than he had Sehun.

“Your call,” Baekhyun prompted.

He was sitting at the end of Luhan’s bed, legs crossed and playing cards spread out between them. He’d been there since Sehun had stepped out of the room a half hour earlier to speak with his boss. It was a selfish thing, but Luhan hoped that Sehun was asking to take his paternity leave earlier. All Luhan wanted was for the last month or so of his pregnancy to go well, and for Sehun to be there with him for each moment.

“Luhan?”

“Sorry.” Luhan looked down to the cards in his hand. There was no telling what the river held in terms of cards, not yet, but he had a two pair in the same suit, so he was confident enough to raise. He slid a handful of pretzels and peanuts, their poker chips for lack of another option, towards Baekhyun. “I’ll raise you.”

“Confident?” Baehyun asked with an arched eyebrow. “You shouldn’t be.” He called immediately.

Luhan tried not to be distracted by all the people in the room. All of his and Sehun’s friends had either been there since the previous night, or trickled in that morning. They were probably breaking a dozen hospital rules, having twelve people in the room at once, but it was nice to have such strong support. No matter where Luhan looked, he had people who cared.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Luhan said. It was a little different with Baekhyun. It was unclear where they were in terms of friendship.

“Do you know what happened last night after you passed out?”

Luhan sighed, “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. I went to bed. I was sleepy.”

Baekhyun continued, “Sehun came out into the waiting room and he squeezed me so hard with appreciation that I thought I’d burst a blood vessel. Apparently you told him I saved your life?”

“Isn’t that what you did?”

“Debatable,” Baekhyun said, keeping his voice low with so many ears nearby. “Anyway, I think it’s safe to say that I’m forgiven. So other than the fact that you’re carrying around my friend’s kid, and that means I have an invested interest in you at the moment, I had to be here just in case.”

Luhan looked up from his cards. “In case of what?”

The door to the room opened up and Sehun came back through.

Quickly, Baekhyun said, “In case I had to make a call.”

“Oh,” Luhan said, Baekhyun’s words registering.

Then the younger man added, “I’ve got your bag, by the way. The one with our agreement in it.”

Sehun came easily to the side of the bed, half sitting on the edge as he observed, “You guys are playing poker?”

“Texas Hold ‘em,” Baekhyun clarified, and it was as if the previous conversation Luhan had had with him, had never happened. “You want in?”

“Sure,” Sehun said, an arm coming around Luhan’s shoulders casually. He called out to the rest of the room, “Anyone else want to play?”

Reclining in a chair near the window, Lay said, “I don’t know how to play.”

It was Kai who looked downright offended and said, “Okay, we’re fixing that right now.”

Sliding his shoes on, Kris announced, “I’ll go find another deck of playing cards.” Chanyeol went with him and Luhan smiled.

“What?” Sehun asked quietly into Luhan’s ear.

“Nothing.” Luhan smothered another smile down as Baekhyun reshuffled the cards. He didn’t want to jinx anything, but as far as he was concerned, with Sehun by his side and their friends clustered around, this was as perfect as life got. “We’re going to need more snacks to play with.”

Sehun pressed a quick kiss to Luhan’s temple and said, “Got it. Give me two minutes.”

Sehun rolled off the bed to hunt down the treats and Baekhyun said, “You two are disgustingly sweet.”

“Thanks,” Luhan said, throwing a peanut at him.

Baekhyun gave him a sour look, but Luhan could only laugh.

Chapter Text

This was, Sehun realized as the first of December rolled around, going to be his first Christmas as a father. Sehun’s own family was Buddhist, so he hadn’t really celebrated the holiday growing up. In fact Christmas hadn’t really become a thing for him until he’d met Jae. Then there’d been church, presents, and Sehun bidding his time until it was the moment to gorge himself on the most luxurious and delicious food of the year.

But this Christmas? This was the first Christmas he was going to be a father, and regardless of the religious connotations shared with the holiday, Sehun wanted to celebrate the miracle of having Youri in his arms after so much time spent thinking he’d be alone for all the foreseeable Christmases.

“You’re not even Christian,” Suho protested as Sehun dragged him to the store, determined to do everything right. And that meant first and foremost, he had to get a Christmas tree to decorate and place presents under.

“And you are,” Sehun said back completely distracted, searching down some of the aisles for the tree in question. “Shouldn’t you be spurring me on or something?”

Suho trailed after him, looking completely out of place in his heavy peacoat, an immaculately pressed suit underneath. He’d met up with Sehun almost right after getting off work, and was a stark contrast to Sehun in his jeans and windbreaker.

“You know my parents, Sehun,” Suho said, bright and colorful lights flashing across his skin as Sehun led them down a fully decorated Christmas aisle. “For them Christmas is a very religious holiday. Jae and I didn’t grow up getting dozens of presents, which is something I have to remind you of all the time. We grew up sitting in church all morning long, breaking for dinner, then going back to church for a second service. My parents are extremely critical of how commercialized the holiday is becoming.”

Sehun wanted to yell victory as he spotted the boxes of trees against the far back wall. “You know, in places like America and Europe it’s completely secular. I mean, I’m sure there are still a lot of people who celebrate it for its religious background, but most of the people who enjoy Christmas there, do it because it represents a time to be together with family and loved ones. Nothing religious at all. That’s what I want this holiday to be for me and Luhan and Youri.”

Sehun had been doing his homework online. He knew that in America in particular, most people chopped down live Christmas trees, dragged them back to their houses and then spent weeks, if not months, fighting with the tiny needles that fell off as the tree dried up and died. In Korea a live tree wasn’t really an option, and Sehun was kind of thankful.

The needles.

Sehun could already imagine Luhan having a heart attack. Luhan’s paints certainly made a mess, but otherwise he kept everything quietly contained and in order. He liked things clean, even more than Sehun did, and for quite a while now he’d been cleaning almost compulsively. And nesting. There’d been nesting too, but Sehun didn’t dare say a word about the way Luhan was hoarding blankets and pillows and enough warm clothing to provide for at least half of Korea.

“My parents wanted me to ask you something, actually,” Suho said, helping Sehun lift the heavy boxed Christmas tree into the cart. “They want to know if they should expect you for service Christmas morning. The want me to ask you to come, actually.”

Sehun tried not make a face, and to reply as respectfully as possible, “You know I only went to Church because of Jae. I’m not religious in the slightest. I don’t believe. And honestly I don’t want to go. I never really enjoyed myself.”

Jae seemed to take some comfort from the pastor at the church they’d gone to every Sunday for years. But Sehun? Sehun had found his sermons dry and boring and irrelevant.

“I know,” Suho allowed. “But you’re forgetting, this is their first Christmas without Jae. They’re extra lonely, and you know they love you. You being there for them, even for a few hours, would mean a lot. I guarantee you, they don’t care if you’re a believer or not. They care that you’re one more person who loved Jae and will remember him with them. That’s all they want, even if they don’t know how to say it.”

Sehun sighed, “Let me talk to Luhan, okay? I want to spend the day with him, but I’m not really sure what he’s doing with Xiumin.”

“He’s doing something with Xiumin?”

They drifted towards the strings of lights and Sehun was having a hard time deciding between something classy like all white, and something bright and colorful and fun.

“He’s staying with him, remember?” Sehun wondered which lights Luhan would prefer, and regretted not bringing him intead of Suho. “And from what Luhan’s told me, Xiumin’s parents are hardly ever around. In the past, Luhan’s spent almost all the major holidays with Xiumin and his sister, but since Eunji’s in the country for Christmas this year, and so is Chen, I think those two will pair off. That leaves Luhan and Xiumin. For all I know, I might end up spending my Christmas holiday with both of them. They are a package deal in a lot of ways.”

Suho reached over and selected the colored strands and said, “Get these. They’ll look better if you don’t plan on flocking the tree.”

Sehun frowned. “Flocking?”

“It’s essentially frosting the tree. It sort of makes it look like the tree has snow on it. But it can also be a mess, so just so with the colored strands, Luhan will like it, and promise me you’ll talk to Luhan about what I offered him.”

Sehun had been able to go weeks now without thinking about how Suho was soon leaving for America and he wouldn’t be coming back for a very long time. Or rather he was more than just leaving for work. He was moving. He was moving away and he’d only be coming home for holidays. Few of them at that.

In a year Suho would have a whole new life in America, and he might even like it better than the life he had in Korea. He might buy a home in America, or meet and fall in love with someone.

“I already asked Luhan to essentially sublet my property,” Suho said, tightness in his words. “I was afraid he’d see the offer as nothing but a handout, or pity, so I tried to word the offer as if he was doing a favor for me. I stand by the fact that it would be a favor. He said he’d think about it and consider the proposition, but I think too much has happened since then for him to feel comfortable taking anything from me.”

Sehun paused. “You apologized. You apologized more than the rest of them combined.”

“I also implied that he’d taken advantage of my generosity to mislead you in the worst way possible. He may have forgiven me, but he doesn’t trust me any longer, and that’s fair enough. I was the one person he was supposed to be able to trust no matter what, and that turned out to be false. And he’s about to be a father, with a child to worry about. He won’t want to take chances with someone he can’t trust.”

“So you want me to talk to him?”

Suho shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt to mention that the offer is still open. And if he’ll feel more comfortable, I’d be more than willing to have a contract of agreement with him.”

Next were the ornaments that would go on the tree. They were even more varied than the lights had been, and Sehun wasn’t sure where to start. He wanted the tree to look good. He wanted to take pictures with Luhan and Youri in front of the tree and send them out to family.

With a snort, Sehun remarked, “Well, Luhan certainly likes his contracts.”

“Hm?”

All of it. Sehun decided, he was just going to get all the ornaments. He’d sort out which ones he wanted to use later, or better yet, he’d let Luhan decide. Sehun just wanted the tree to look good and for Luhan to be happy. Everything else, including what he was prepared to spend to make that happen, was inconsequential.

“Luhan and I have a contract for the baby,” Sehun said, not making eye contact with Suho. “We signed the papers a week ago.”

“Contract?” Suho asked with uncertainty.

“After I thought he was trying to take Youri from me, and after I almost fucked everything up by trying to do that very thing, Luhan wanted some insurance. He couldn’t trust me anymore. Maybe he still can’t. the point is, we got some paperwork drawn up that says how we split custody of her.”

“You’re okay with that?”

Sehun stilled. “No. Of course I’m not okay with the fact that the person I love, the person who I conceived my daughter with, can’t trust me and wants it in paper so I can’t do something shady and terrible.”

Suho leaned against the basket with a sigh. “What does it say? The paper you signed.”

“Don’t.” Sehun leveled a dark gaze at him. “Don’t you dare say what I think you plan to.”

“Don’t say what?” Suho demanded. “Don’t say you’re an idiot to have signed anything without letting me look it over? Did you sign away any of your custody rights?”

Sehun could barely stand to look at Suho. “You know, Suho, Luhan had every right to never forgive me for what I tried to do. A lesser person would have held it against me for the next twenty years, and made my life hell with Youri over it. But Luhan? He said we needed a formal agreement, at least until we figure this out a little better, so that we can be the best parents to Youri possible. But more than that, he said we needed an agreement to make sure that we didn’t hurt each other anymore. What does that say about us that we need something written on paper to stop that from happening? What does that say about me, because I’m the one who forced this?”

After some reluctance, Suho offered, “Maybe the two of you should think about taking a break.”

“I can’t take a break from loving him,” Sehun said, head cocked as his eye was caught by a miniature Santa Claus. “And I don’t want to. We’re going to make this work, we’re just implementing a learning curve, and it’s taking some time to get used to.”

They shopped for at least a few more minutes in silence before Suho asked, “Is your therapy working?”

“I think so,” Sehun said, and his gut said yes. “I feel better afterwards, and I’m learning how to deal with my self-doubt and anger in ways other than shoving it down like it isn’t there until it explodes out of me. My therapist thinks that in a couple of months I’ll really be able to see the difference. I don’t care if I can see it. I care if Luhan can.”

Suho’s eyes narrowed. “Then you really love him that much?”

It sounded like a vow when Sehun said, “I’m going to marry him one day, Suho. I’m going to have more kids with him, if it’s what he wants. I’m going to spend the rest of my days with him making him happy, and being made happy, and I’m going to do all the things with Luhan that I know I deserve.”

It was more than a little embarrassing how long it had taken him to feel that way, and how much longer to say it out loud. But as the weeks had passed, and with more and more he told his therapist, listening to what she had to say in response, the more he felt like he deserved Luhan. He deserved to be happy again. He deserved Youri in his life, and to be a father. It was okay to want and deserve.

His therapist had long since convinced him that if he wanted to have a life, one with Luhan and Youri, he had to accept that he was deserving, and live up to expectations.

Luhan was expecting him to co-parent. Youri was expecting him to be her father. Sehun was expecting of himself, that he wouldn’t let the people he loved down.

“So,” Sehun said, steering their cart along, “I’d really appreciate it if you could stop doubting Luhan and myself. We’re not perfect. We’re making mistakes. But we’re strong and we’re going to endure. Things will get better--very soon, in fact, and all we want is for the people important to us to support us. That’s all.”

Sehun had really expected Suho to mull those words over, but almost immediately the older man was replying, “You’re a pain in my ass, Sehun.”

“Huh?”

“But,” Suho said, slinging an arm around Sehun’s neck, “you’re family, so I’ve got your back. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“Luhan does,” Sehun pointed out. “How about I talk to him about … subletting for you, and you talk to him about how he’s family too. Deal?”

A smile pulled at Suho. “Deal. Now, what are you getting Luhan for Christmas? He’s getting you a baby, technically.”

Sehun offered tentatively, “Money?”

“Money,” Suho deadpanned. “For your first Christmas with him, you’re getting him money?”

There was a flash of panic in Sehun. “But that’s what people usually get each other. It’s a traditional gift here. Your parents gave you and Jae money for Christmas, and even when you were adults.”

Suho declared, “You can’t get Luhan money, not for his first Christmas with you. You have to get him something nice and special.”

Sehun asked in a nervous way, “Do you think he’s getting me something nice and special for Christmas?”

“You mean other than a baby?”

Sehun nodded almost frantically.

“I think you need to go shopping,” Suho said, barely holding back a laugh. “Luhan is the type of person to buy a gift from the heart, and not carelessly. Not to mention, this will be the Christmas that he tells Youri about when she’s old enough to understand. He’ll tell her all about the first Christmas the three of you had together as a family, and how special it was. Imagine how irritated Luhan will be if he has to end the story on a sour note because you didn’t get him something nice?”

“I …” Sehun looked down at the contents of the basket. It all seemed so inconsequential now. A tree? Who cared about a Christmas tree. He had to go shopping for a gift for Luhan. He had to go immediately. “I …”

“But you’ve got a little breathing room,” Suho said, patting him on the back.

“How so?” Sehun’s mind was racing. Did he get Luhan Jewelry? Something more practical? Did the amount of money he spent count? If it did, why couldn’t he just give Luhan money? Jae had never made a fuss about presents. He’d never really wanted any. But this felt completely different from that.

Suho reached for strands of garland and tucked them in the cart. “Because, Sehun, Luhan’s in love with you. So even if you get him something embarrassingly bad, he’ll probably lie and say he likes it anyway. Love does stuff like that to a person, especially one already as considerate as Luhan.”

That felt like the truth to Sehun, but it was still something he wanted to avoid.

“Do you have any ideas for me? Sehun asked. “Any suggestions?”

Suho gave him a shrug. “Something heartfelt. I think you’ve known Luhan long enough to know what his likes and dislikes are. You already know what his hobbies are, too. And going with something baby related is always good.”

“That’s it?” Sehun asked, fingers gripping the shopping cart tightly. “I was kind of hoping you’d just tell me what to go get.”

After a second Suho reached over and gave Sehun a terrible pinch that was sure to bruise. “Can you explain how my brother put up with you for long?”

Flabbergasted, Sehun replied, “I have no idea.”

At least for a few days Sehun was able to put that panic from his mind. Chen had promised to help him shop before he left for the holiday, though it had required some bribery, and that left Sehun time to concentrate on the tree.

“It’s really cute,” Luhan said from the nearby sofa as he watched Sehun string up the lights. He had ornaments scattered around him and looked like he was still deciding. “You did a good job picking the tree out.”

Sehun felt his face heat with the praise and tried not to preen too much.

Instead, he asked, “I know you didn’t have the best childhood growing up, but were there any Christmas celebrations?”

Luhan set his chin in the palm of his hand and said, “I had a strict and uncomfortable childhood, but not a bad one. I had to keep the things that made me happy secret, but I still had them.”

“I guess,” Sehun said. “But our baby won’t ever have to hide anything from us.”

Luhan gave a quick and loud laugh. “Sehun, I know it’s an impossible thought right now, but eventually she’ll be a teenager. She’s going to hide everything from us.”

Sehun tossed a strand of garland at Luhan and hit him in the head with it gently. “We’re not mentioning the teenage years. I still remember my own. I’m terrified of Youri’s.”

Luhan tossed the garland back at Sehun. “It doesn’t matter if Youri wants to keep secrets from us. All kids do. What matters is if she knows she can tell us if she wants to.”

“You’re going to be such a great father,” Sehun said, feeling a little breathy. He’d always known with Luhan, but there were quick moments that reaffirmed the notion to him in such a startling way that he had to make note of it. “Youri is so lucky to have you.”

“Us,” Luhan said back, and he said it in a way that challenged Sehun to say otherwise. “We’re not going to be perfect parents, Sehun. But we’ll do right by her. That’s all that matters.”

An almost painful smile on Sehun’s face, he turned back to the tree. “So, Christmas in China?”

“Not even close,” Luhan said. “I grew up near Beijing so there was a constant Western presence, but my parents are staunchly traditional Taoists. To them, Christmas was too much of a Christian holiday, and they never let me celebrate it. New Year’s was the big holiday. I got presents and attention from them then.”

Sehun hated the way he’d said it. It gave Sehun a good idea of how little attention Luhan’s parents had paid to him growing up, outside of trying to control what he did or said.

“It was the only time of year,” Luhan added, “when I got exactly what I wanted.”

“How?”

“I asked for it,” Luhan laughed. “The rest of the year, my birthday included, my parents got to give me whatever they wanted. But it’s sort of a rule that you get what you really want during the New Year. It’s supposed to signify good luck for the coming year. So every New Year, since I was very little, I’d ask for sketch books, paints, and one year I even asked to take a class at the local community center. It was a class on the basic mechanics of drawing, and back then I thought I wanted to draw manga or something like that.”

Sehun sat himself next to Luhan on the sofa. “You didn’t always want to paint?”

“No,” Luhan said, a smile on his face. “Wei was obsessed with manga when we were young. He had a couple of friends who’d get it smuggled in from Japan under their parent’s noses and you could always get a kid at school to do some rough translations for a couple of yen.”

Sehun felt his own face sour. “Wei.”

“I told you he came and apologized,” Luhan said.

Sehun had heard the whole story, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Wei might have been Luhan’s childhood friend, and even if Sehun was willing to accept that he was trying to absolve himself now of the wrong he’d done, he was still the man who’d helped Luhan’s parents hold him prisoner in China. And he’d been willing to try and force Luhan to marry him.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like him,” Sehun shot back. “I’ll rethink my position on him when he proves himself a little more.”

Sincerely, Luhan said, “Wei is a brother to me.”

“To you he is,” Sehun agreed. But he couldn’t help wondering if that was mutual with Wei. Sehun had no way of knowing, but he wanted the man to stay as far away from Luhan for as long as possible.

Rolling his eyes, Luhan said, “Anyway, when Wei and I were in school, everything about manga was exciting. It had all these storylines and characters that were fresh and edgy and interesting. The art style was always top notch and it was really exciting to know that we were reading things that our parents and elders said we weren’t supposed to. Wei is a talented writer, and even when I was young, I could draw pretty well. We made all these plans to run off to Japan and put out our own manga. It was our dream.”

Curiously, Sehun asked, “So what changed?”

“Back to the tree,” Luhan said, giving Sehun a teasing nod and handing him a package of ornaments. “Put these up, please. They’re the best of the bunch.”

Sehun leveled himself up to his feet. “Finish the story.”

“Is it that interesting?” Luhan asked.

Sehun told him, “Everything about you is interesting to me.”

“Okay,” Luhan said, his face so bright he was practically glowing. “Get back here.”

Sehun found himself bracing his hand against the back of the sofa as Luhan tugged him down into a firm kiss.

“Tell me,” Sehun requested, catching Luhan’s mouth once more before forcing himself back over to the tree.

Luhan leaned back a little smugly on the sofa from their kissing. “It was a moment of fate, Sehun. Because that drawing class I asked for? The one my parents were going to sign me up for no matter how little they wanted to? It was actually full.”

Sehun found his eyes widening. “No.”

“Yes,” Luhan chuckled out. “It was heartbreaking at the time. So while I was busy being upset over that, my parents, I suppose desperate to shut me up, just signed me up for the next class available. Actually, I’m not even sure it was them. They worked a lot while I was young and their assistants did almost everything for them like that.”

“Let me guess,” Sehun said, “they signed you up for a painting class.”

“Got it,” Luhan confirmed. “Fate. It had to be. Because from the second I had that first class, I was absolutely in love. I knew right away it was all I wanted to do with my life, and so I guess indirectly at least, my parents are responsible for my love of art.”

Loudly Sehun laughed. “I bet they love that.”

“I doubt they’ve made the connection,” Luhan said, and looked certain of that. “But that’s got to be the best irony I’ve ever heard of in my life.”

Sehun carefully set the ornaments on the tree. “I say you let them know they’re to blame for you being an artist the next time to you talk to them. See what they have to say for that.”

“I don’t think that’ll be happening any time soon,” Luhan told him. He was starting to look a little sleepy and Sehun was wondering if it would be too presumptuous to offer Luhan to stay the night. He didn’t want Luhan to think he was wanting anything of a less than chaste nature.

They hadn’t really talked about sex.

Sehun barely remembered what sex with Luhan had gone like. There were faint traces in his memory of pleasure and satisfaction, but nothing clear. And it wasn’t that Sehun didn’t want to sleep with Luhan again. Luhan was incredibly attractive and Sehun was desperately in love with him. But sex seemed like something they weren’t ready for. The sex part would be easy, but Sehun was more concerned about everything else.

So it seemed better to wait. Sex would come with time. They loved each other, and they wanted each other. When the time was right, it would happen.

It just probably wouldn’t happen with Luhan in his ninth month, constantly uncomfortable and Sehun perpetually worried over him.

“You could say I got a severance package from my parents.”

That jolted Sehun. “What?”

Luhan said, “I noticed that an absurd amount of money recently appeared in my bank account. It came from my parents. So I called them to ask about it, especially considering what just recently happened.

“I doubt your parents are rewarding your good behavior here.”

Luhan nodded. “My thoughts exactly. So I called them. They said that I was finally getting what it wanted. They’re officially disowning me. That money is their way of cutting the cord.”

“Wait. Wait, Luhan.” Sehun searched Luhan’s face for any sign of sadness. “I thought you said before that they’d already disowned you.”

Luhan waved a dismissive hand. “They hadn’t done it officially. They cut me off financially, and stopped contacting me, but that was more an attempt to flush me out of Korea and back to China. It tells you how little they know me that they thought a lack of comfortable living would force me back under their thumb. But no, I wasn’t officially disowned. If my parents had died before now, I would have inherited everything. But not anymore.”

“So what’s changed.”

“Well,” Luhan listed off, “I’m officially out of the line of succession, so to speak. I can’t inherit anything. But I’m also unable to access anything through my family’s influence, I can’t officially recognize myself as my parent’s son in China, and if I were to try and get a job in China, where family loyalty is prioritized over things such as work ethic and experience, I would be blacklisted. I am, essentially, black listed from the professional world in China.”

Sehun offered, “So … no getting a job through nepotism?”

It was the right thing to do because Luhan looked a little amused. “Yes. It means that my parents have taken everything from me but the genetic code I carry, which if they could take that, they would have. I am no longer their son, and there is likely no coming back from this.”

Gently, Sehun asked, “Are you upset?”

“I don’t know,” Luhan said honestly. “I don’t need their money or influence. My home is here, in Korea and with you. But the future is hard to predict. And this means my children are disowned as well. They’ll never be recognized by my family now.”

“Your old family,” Sehun said quickly, cutting in. “Youri, and anyone else who comes along, will be loved and accepted by our friends. They’re our family. No one else matters.”

Luhan nodded. “I’m not sad to see them go. Not really. But this is a very serious thing in China. I’ll never be able to go back home. I won’t be there for my parent’s funerals when they die, and none of the rest of the family will ever contact me ever again. For any reason. They’ll blame me. They’ll say this is my fault. And I’ll be accused of trying to ruin the family.”

Deliberately Sehun put the ornaments evenly on the tree. “Good riddance then.”

“They’re still my family,” Luhan said, voice thinning out. “Or I suppose, they were.”

Sehun didn’t know what to say to make things better, or if there was anything that could be said.

“Wei told me his parents did the same.”

Sehun reared back a little. “Wei?”

“Yes.” Luhan sat up and tucked his legs under him. “The Wei told me, his parents were so unhappy with him letting me leave the country, they issued him an ultimatum. They said he had to come to Korea and take me back, or he didn’t need to worry about coming back. They threatened him with being disowned as a way to incense him. Needless to say, Wei accepted that, booked a flight to Korea, and came here to tell me he was going to start over in America.”

“Oh,” Sehun said. He hadn’t known that.

“Wei and I are both the only children of our parents,” Luhan added. “It’s serious in this regard, because now we’ve got dozens of cousins who’re squabble over power as if there were still dynasties. That’s why our parents were pushing for our marriage, to unite power firmly and in an iron clad way. And now everything is a mess.”

“Nothing is a mess,” Sehun said. “We aren’t a mess and I’m sorry, but that’s the only thing I care about.” He reached for a nearby box and held it up. “Want to do the honors?”

Sehun had to help Luhan struggle up to his feet, but when he did, Luhan hugged him appreciatively. “I will always remember where I came from, but I won’t lose sight of where I’m going, either.”

Sehun pressed his face into the warmth of Luhan’s neck and simply held him.

Luhan cleared his throat seconds later and lifted the lid off the box to examine the contents. “You sure you want me to do this?”

In the box was the gold colored star that Sehun had paid and arm and a leg for. It was meant to go on the top of the tree and shine like a beacon. He’d read online that families had all kinds of different tree toppers, from angel figures to decorative abstract pieces. But Sehun liked the idea of a gold star the best.

“Ideally,” Sehun said, and he’d give it all some proper thought, “I think it would be nice if we had a tradition where Youri puts the star on the top of the tree every year, but since you’re carrying her right now, I think it only seems fair you’re the one to do it.”

“Okay.” Luhan reached long fingers into the box and pulled the star out reverently. “It’s so beautiful.”

Sehun put his fingers against the back of Luhan’s neck and tugged him in for a careful kiss. “You’re crazy if you think it’s the star that’s beautiful here.”

“You’re so greasy,” Luhan teased, then he reached out and put the star carefully on the top of the tree, making the decorations complete. “And I love you.”

“I love you too,” Sehun said immediately, then wrapped Luhan in his arms and together they watched the tree sparkle.

As it turned out, it was Sehun who was too tired soon enough. “You look dead on your feet,” Luhan joked, but was serious a second later when he added, “You’re working yourself too hard.”

“I’m taking my paternity leave on Sunday,” Sehun said. “That’s a week sooner than I told my boss I would. I have to get my current projects finished up.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you.”

Luhan put his hands on his hips. “I admire your work ethic, but I don’t want you to burn yourself out. Also, you don’t look awake enough right now to drive me home in a straight line. Should I call Xiumin to come pick me up?”

A quick glance to the nearby clock revealed it was even later than Sehun had thought it was. “You should just stay the night.”

Luhan wasn’t quick to disagree. He merely asked, “Are you sure? I know you have to work early in the morning.”

“You have a key, right?” Sehun asked. He’d returned Luhan’s house key to him weeks earlier, though Luhan hadn’t had a reason to use it yet. “If I leave before you get up in the morning, just lock up before you go. You know you have a room here, Luhan. It’s yours any time you want it.”

He wanted to ask Luhan to start bringing some of his clothes over, just in case. He wanted Luhan to slowly start to invade, and for his toothbrush to show up next to Sehun’s in the bathroom, and for Luhan to feel as comfortable in Sehun’s house as Xiumin’s.

“All right,” Luhan said. He cracked a smile. “I’m so tired, you don’t have to do much talking to convince me.”

Sehun put a hand at Luhan’s back and walked him carefully up the stairs as slowly as he needed to go.

It was purely psychological. Sehun wasn’t stupid. He knew there was nothing logical about feeling as if he slept better knowing Luhan wasn’t far from him. But it was the best sleep he’d had in ages, and when he rolled out of bed in the wee hours of the morning, he wasn’t a complete beast until he got his coffee.

Before he left, Sehun took a quick peek in at Luhan, smothering down a small laugh at the way Luhan was stretched out across nearly the whole bed. Sehun wondered what it would be like to share a bed with him sober. Luhan seemed like the kind of sleeper to hog everything. That was nothing like Jae who’d always just burrowed into Sehun’s side and then not moved a muscle the entire night.

It would be nice to have someone to lay next to.

It would be better if that someone was Luhan.

With Luhan fidgeted on the bed, his breathing picking up a little, Sehun was quick to close the door. He didn’t want to wake him, and Luhan seemed so tired now all the time.

It was harder to leave that morning than ever before, despite it being the best he’d felt in forever. It was hard to leave Luhan behind, even though he was only sleeping, and even if it was just to go to work.

He wondered if this was how codependency started.

“You’re here early,” Chanyeol remarked when Sehun stepped of the elevator to their floor of the building. Chanyeol was dressed casually, which meant he didn’t have any meetings for the day, and had a steaming cup of coffee in one hand.

“So are you,” Sehun remarked. “Why? You usually try to sneak your way in at the last second.”

Chanyeol gave a loud yawn. “I was up late. Working on something big. What about you?”

“Putting up a Christmas tree,” Sehun said. “I’m still not sure if Luhan was helping or distracting. I’ll get back to you on that one.”

“Probably the second option.” Chanyeol elbowed Sehun softly. “Want to get lunch?”

Sehun offered him a passing wave and nodded. “See you at noon.” Then he was off, heading away from Chanyeol and to his office.

A Christmas present, he reminded himself. He had to get Luhan a Christmas present, and it had to be something good. This was their first Christmas together. It had to be outstanding. This was the Christmas they’d tell Youri about some day, and remember most fondly.

It had to be a present comparable to Luhan delivering a baby for them.

Sehun collapsed in the chair at his desk and leaned back in it. Suho had made it seem so easy. He knew Luhan’s interests, but Luhan didn’t need more paints. And getting Luhan anything related to the baby was something that had probably been covered a million times already.

Something heartfelt, Suho had said.

Sehun tipped forward and buried his arms on top of his desk hiding his face in them.

He was really starting to question all the gifts he’d gotten Jae over the years. Was he really as bad as it seemed?

“Hey,” Chanyeol’s voice ran out. “I forgot to ask you about the … Sehun?”

Sehun’s head rose a bit. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Growing increasingly paranoid, Sehun asked, “Am I a bad gift giver?”

Chanyeol paled a bit.

“Damn,” Sehun mumbled, and his head dropped back on the desk with a heavy thud.

Chapter Text

With only a week until his scheduled delivery date, Luhan was more than a little nervous. Of course with Sehun wearing holes into his floors as easily as he breathed, it was something Luhan was trying not to show. The last thing they needed was the both of them having complete breakdowns over the anxiety associated with becoming first time parents.

Truthfully, Luhan just wished there was someone he could talk to who’d already gone through what he was about to. But none of his closest friends were parents, and even if Baekhyun was due to be a father, Luhan didn’t think he had any more of an idea of what to expect than Luhan himself.

During the years he’d spent in Seoul before meeting Sehun, Luhan had gathered up friends easily. He made them without much effort, a combination of his personality and easy going nature. But few of them were even married, let alone expecting.

That meant that Luhan was charging ahead into unknown territory by himself, and without any advice to lean on.

Against his will, the feeling of being lost and worried made him want to give anything in the world to be able to talk to his mother.

“Forty-two,” Xiumin said.

What Luhan needed, therefore, was a distraction from all the worry. Going into the home stretch Eunji had been very clear about relaxing as much as possible and not getting worked up.

“Forty-two boxes?” Luhan asked.

He was back in his apartment for the first time in what felt like years. He’d split the majority of his time recently between Xiumin and Sehun, bouncing back and forth from one bedroom to the next. But with time passing quickly, he was suddenly realizing how little he was prepared to actually bring a baby home.

Clipboard in hand, Xiumin nodded. “At least here.” He jotted something down on the clipboard, then said, “But don’t forget, Kris said he’s still got at least a dozen boxes of diapers at his place, and I know Tao’s got at least ten that he’s been stockpiling. Plus, didn’t you tell me Suho’s been meaning to bring some by?”

Luhan tried not to fidget at how much of a mess his apartment looked. It was for the necessity of taking inventory, he told himself, eyes moving from the insane amount of boxes and items covering his living room floor, all the way into the kitchen.

“Round up,” Luhan advised. He was grateful to have help. He’d been preoccupied by the bigger items he needed, like a crib and stroller, and only just recently been unsure about the amount of smaller, but equally as necessary items for when Youri came home.

“I’ve got a count in here!” Tao called out, voice carrying from the kitchen.

Kris clarified for them all a second later, “Of formula.”

“Ready,” Xiumin said. “Tell me how many cans.”

Tao’s face came around the corner looking a little white. “A lot.”

They weren’t cans. That was for sure. But instead they were premium bottles of formula that Youri would be eating for the next six months at least. Luhan had been more than a little startled to have an incredible amount of crates show up at his door one morning, filled to the brim with the over priced formula.

“It’s not over priced,” Sehun had argued, and he’d certainly been the one to buy it. “If it’s for our baby, and it’s the best, then it isn’t over priced.”

“There’s like …” Tao made a face. “At least two hundred of them.”

“I think,” Luhan allowed, letting himself drift towards the kitchen, “Sehun is trying to prepare us to not leave the apartment for a couple of months.”

“Huh?” Tao asked. “Are you being serious?”

Luhan gave a tight laugh. “I think I should be grateful that he doesn’t want to hoard Youri up for a year or two. Tao, I think he’ll need a couple of weeks to settle in to having her in his life, but afterwards, he’ll be a little more lenient. And he does have to go back to work eventually, you know.”

“Plus,” Xiumin added, coming close enough that Luhan could see he’d added a couple more numbers to the clipboard including essentials like baby wipes, baby powder, and even some bath supplies. “Babies have very weak immune systems right after they’re born. Youri will build hers up eventually through contact with the outside world, but for the first few months, it’s not untypical for parents to keep their newborns secluded.”

Luhan was impressed. “You’ve been doing your reading.”

“A little,” Xiumin admitted. “Eventually you and Sehun are going to pass out from the sheer exhaustion of trying to take care of a newborn. While you two sleep, I was thinking I’d be the one to watch her. And you’ll feel better if you know that I’m aware of the important things, like helping Youri avoid germs.”

Luhan gave him a firm nod. “You’re her uncle, Xiumin. You know you can see her any time you want.”

Tao demanded, “What about me?”

With an arm dragging Tao back into the recesses of the kitchen, Kris said, “You don’t get to have any unsupervised interaction with Youri until she’s old enough to tell us when you drop her.”

Tao gave a whine of protest as Xiumin said quietly, “It sucks that Lay isn’t here.”

Maybe it was something Luhan had been taking for granted, assuming that all of his friends would be present for the birth of his daughter. But Youri’s due date was the twenty-first, and it was a known fact that Lay always went home to China in December, only to return to Korea in January. He’d left a few days earlier, albeit with reluctance, and he wouldn’t be back until after Youri had been born.

“But he’s with his family,” Luhan said, and tried not to think of his own parents and cousins who he would never see again. It was different now that he couldn’t see them, as opposed to not wanting to.

But Sehun had been right. Sehun had been absolutely right when he’d told Luhan that he had a new family now, full of people who loved him and accepted him for who he was, and no matter the choices he made.

In time it seemed the sting of being officially disowned would pass, but for the moment, it was still lurking in the back of Luhan’s mind.

“Things are changing,” Xiumin remarked.

That was even more true than Luhan was ready to accept. Because Lay would be in Korea for less than a year more before returning to China to take up a position at his father’s business. And Suho, he’d barely be around long enough for Youri to be born. D.O. was scheduled to head back overseas within a month, Tao wanted to attend graduate school in America, and Chen had been hinting for a while that he’d received more than a couple of job offers from outside of Korea. Maybe with Chen he’d stay for Eunji, or it was possible that he’d go and take her with him.

In any case, things would never be again how they had been, or even how they were now.

“Have you two got things in here?” Luhan asked Tao and Kris. When there were quick calls of certainty, Luhan turned to Xiumin. “Can I get your advice on something?”

He took Xiumin back to his bedroom and pointed to the open suitcase. “So that’s my baby bag. Help?”

“You’re calling it a baby bag?”

Luhan scowled at him. “Don’t judge me for what I choose to call it. Anyway, it’s the bag I’m taking over to Sehun’s tonight for when we go to the hospital. We want to be prepared. I’m scheduled for the twenty-first, but if the baby decides to come early, I won’t have a say in that.”

It was somewhat of a miracle that there’d been no additional cramping, or worse, any contractions. Not since the first time that had landed him in a panic at the hospital. There’d been a couple of false contractions, the kind that were completely normal and not dangerous in the least bit, but after his most recent scare, his pregnancy had been nothing but smooth sailing.

And he was at a point now, with seven days left until Youri’s due date, to be confident that if she came early, she’d be perfectly fine. She was fully developed, and equipped to survive outside him. If he delivered now, she’d thrive.

“Do you think she’s going to come early?” Xiumin asked, looking a little concerned.

Luhan felt assured when he said, “It’s doubtful. Possible, but doubtful. Your sister said that because Youri is my first pregnancy, I’ll probably not deliver early. First pregnancies rarely fall short of term.”

“First?” Xiumin echoed.

“Only? I don’t know.” Luhan shrugged. “I love Sehun. I want to marry him and grow old with him, and maybe have more kids. I’m not writing any thing down officially, but if we keep going in the good direction that we are now, we could have more kids eventually. So maybe you should get on finding someone so my kids will have someone to play with.”

Xiumin rolled his eyes. “I’m … if it was going to be your kid, Luhan, I was ready to be a father. But otherwise? I’m not sure I want kids.”

It was a reminder that if Luhan had been just a bit more lonely, or loved Xiumin just a little different than he did, it could have been them planning for Youri’s birth.

Gently, Luhan said, “You don’t have to decide now. You’re still very young.”

“I still have my enlistment to consider,” Xiumin shot back. “I certainly don’t want kids before then. Have you thought about what it’s going to be like when Sehun has to enlist?”

“No,” Luhan said quickly, and he really hadn’t. Military enlistment was something that Luhan had maybe thought of once or twice since he’d come to Korea. Some of his older friends had been talking about it, but as a Chinese citizen, it was nothing Luhan had ever worried over. Until now.

Because Sehun could get a deferment for a while, maybe even until Youri was much older, but eventually he’d have to go. That would mean two years without Sehun steadily in his life. Two years of being mostly a single parent. Two years without the person he loved. Except for phone calls and short weekends of leave and special occasions.

“I haven’t thought about it,” Luhan said, feeling his chest clench up a little. “Sehun has to go, doesn’t he?”

Xiumin gave a serious nod. “There’s no getting out of it. And honestly, I don’t know how it is in China, but here, you’re not even considered a man until you’ve done your enlistment.”

“That sucks,” Luhan eased out, sinking into a nearby chair. “Really.”

Xiumin cracked a tentative smile. “It’s a duty. And obligation. It’s something that we do so that we can keep the country we love, and the people who we love even more, safe.” He let out a low laugh as he headed to Luhan’s suitcase. “I also kind of think it’s meant to keep pregnancies from happening to people who are too young to handle it. No one really wants to have a baby if they’re going to have to be absent for two years of its life. But hey, I’ve known you for a while, Luhan, and you’re about the least predictable person I’ve ever met. You do what you want and everyone else gets the hell out of the way.”

Luhan tossed a nearby pillow at him. “Flattery. Keep going.”

“Well, you can’t pack for shit.”

Luhan threw a second pillow, this time much harder. “I said flatter me, my supposed best friend.”

Xiumin sat on the edge of Luhan’s bed and pulled the suitcase closer for inspection. “Luhan, you’ve got enough in here for a vacation to Jeju. You’re going to be in the hospital for a couple of days, and you won’t even get to wear what you want until you go home.”

Luhan insisted, “These are the clothes I’m choosing between. Eunji said I’m going to be incredibly sore when they release me. I’ll get some good medication, but it won’t be easy going. I’m trying to decide between the loosest clothing I have, the shirts with the softest material, or the clothing I like the best, which will give me the most comfort. Not to mention Sehun’s whole family is going to be there when I get to leave with Youri. They’ll take a million pictures and probably some video. I want to look good.”

Xiumin lifted up a shirt and said, “Then we’ll just get rid of this.” He tossed it across the room. “I take this to mean you’re going to be staying with Sehun for the rest of the week?”

“Yep.” Luhan drummed his fingers across his stomach. “In case I go into early labor, I kind of want to be near him. And I want to drive to the hospital with him. I mean … Xiumin, I love him. He’s the father of my daughter. I want to do this with him.”

“Okay,” Xiumin said, but his shoulders were tensed up like he wanted to add something. “Just call me when it does happen.”

Luhan promised, “You know you’ll be the first.”

“Okay.”

Luhan frowned, his tapping fingers stilling. “Xiumin?”

“I just …” One of Luhan’s shirts twisted in his grasp.

“You can say whatever you’re thinking,” Luhan insisted. “You’re my best friend. You can say anything to me.”

Xiumin nodded. “I just didn’t think this was how everything would end. I thought maybe we’d end up together. I thought maybe Sehun would just fade away into the woodwork. I thought maybe even you’d choose not to keep Youri. I thought of a hundred different ways time could pass, and this wasn’t even close to one of them.”

Leaning forward a little on the chair, Luhan wondered, “Is that upsetting to you?”

“Nah.” He held up a shirt that Luhan had forgotten he’d even put in the suitcase. It was one of his eldest pieces of clothing, bought when he’d first started showing, and made of a smooth, light cotton material. When he was still puffy and heavy from having just given birth, it would fit perfectly. And it was a light blue color, something that was highly complementary. “It’s weird,” Xiumin said, “but not bad, how things turned out. Just different.”

Luhan caught the shirt as Xiumin tossed it to him. “If it makes you feel any better,” he said, holding the article of clothing up fully, “of all the ways I imagined my life going, this was the downright best possibility. But I was going to be okay with any of them. Do you know why?”

Xiumin shook his head. “No, but it bet it’s some super emotional reason that you’ll blame on your hormones afterwards.”

“Because,” Luhan said, nose up in the air, “I knew that no matter how any of this all turned out, you’d be there. You’d be there supporting me and helping me with Youri, because that’s who you are and that’s what you’ve always done. That’s why you’re my best friend.”

“Oh, god, don’t start crying.”

The temptation to give Xiumin an obscene gesture was growing strong, but he squashed it down and instead asked, “So you think I should go with this shirt?”

“I think,” Xiumin said, reaching back for it, “you should pack this, a pair of loose pants, a backup outfit, and that’s it for clothing. Honestly, Luhan it doesn’t really matter what you look like when you come out of the hospital.”

“I don’t want to look a hot mess when Youri looks back on all the pictures that are certain to be taken.”

Quickly, Xiumin packed the rest of Luhan’s suitcase for him. “She’s going to make fun of you no matter what you’re wearing. That’s just how it is with kids, they always think their parents are outdated. But when she’s done laughing at whatever you and I think are cool clothes, she’ll appreciate the fact that the pictures were taken after you spent a couple hours in major surgery giving birth to her.”

“It’s almost time,” Luhan replied, feeling like it was a dream. “I can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I,” Xiumin said, righting the suitcase and setting it to the side. “But in a lot of ways, it’s been a long time coming, too. Now, let’s go check in on those dorks in the kitchen. For all we know Kris has abandoned ship and Tao’s eating his way through whatever you still have in there.”

“I’m sure he’s already passed on, if that’s the case,” Luhan joked. “Most of the food in there is spoiled now.”

Xiumin gave him a hand up and said, “I’ll make sure your place is stocked before you and Sehun bring Youri back here. It’ll be one less thing you need to worry about.”

As far as best friends went, Luhan was certain that he’d really lucked out.

The next few days, in a way, were like a test run for Luhan. He was growing ever more convinced that he and Sehun were heading towards living together. Eventually, Luhan had a sinking suspicion, they’d be at a level where they were ready for marriage, too. So now Luhan felt as if they were testing the waters, seeing if they could live together for a significant amount of time. The next few weeks especially would prove if they had it in them.

It was a little scary how easy the first days were.

Luhan had half expected them to be stumbling over each other, learning boundaries that they didn’t know existed. Not to mention their personal ticks. Luhan knew he could be difficult with how particular he liked certain things, and for as in love with Sehun as he was, there was still a lot to learn about him.

But oddly enough, or maybe just because they were seemingly in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, they flowed together so easily in a way that was confounding at times.

The liked the same kind of music, preferred the same types of foods, and had internal clocks on seemingly the same schedule. Neither one of them could cook a dinner meal, but they always tackled breakfast together, and had lunch with each other every day when timing permitted.

At night they’d watch TV for a few hours, and Sehun would rub his feet. In the morning Luhan would hand Sehun a cup of coffee before they each worked on their individual projects. Luhan was tackling his sketches for Kai’s gym, and Sehun was remodeling the bedroom that would eventually be Youri’s.

Sehun said so easily, “You’re amazing and I love you.”

Luhan believed him.

It was kind of like a fairytale, and the days before the twenty-first were some of the best.

Luhan, though, with that anxiousness for the birth persisting, left the house no more than once or twice a day. He usually had lunch with Sehun at a nearby restaurant, but for the most part, he was happy to lounge around, his back killing him and the pressure on his hips unbearable at times.

It wasn’t until a few days before he was scheduled to head to the hospital when he had to leave for any real amount of time, and without Sehun.

“You sure you want to go all the way out to Kai’s?” Sehun asked, car keys in hand. “I’ll take you out there if you want, but you know I get nervous when you just go to the bathroom.”

Luhan wrapped himself up in a heavy winter coat and asked, “You watch me go to the bathroom?”

“You’re so funny,” Sehun said dryly. “I mean I get nervous when you’re out of sight. You could go into labor at any second.”

The scarf came next and Luhan said, “Kai needs me to show him what I’ve finished so far. They completed the first part of construction already, and I need to make sure my designs are copasetic with his expectations.”

“Copasetic?” Sehun grinned and leaned over to help Luhan with his scarf. “Everything you produce is beautiful. But I still don’t see why you need to go all the way down there.”

Luhan insisted, “Kai can’t bring the studio to me. And I need to physically see the space. Trust me, it makes a difference in how I’m going to execute my work. I just need a couple of hours, and maybe I’m letting myself become too easily cooped up in here.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Sehun said, his hand cupping Luhan’s heavy stomach through the jacket. “You’re so close to our delivery date. Could you just … stay here instead? I won’t go prematurely gray then.”

Luhan laughed and reached for the front door’s handle. “You’d stuff me in bubble wrap right now if you could.”

Sehun followed him out the door, his hand a comforting weight on Luhan’s back as the wind battered them almost immediately. “You’re not wrong,” Sehun chuckled.

“That should scare me,” Luhan said, and he was so very thankful it hadn’t rained in a couple of days. “But I find you oddly endearing. I must be in love. There’s no other excuse.”

Sehun snuck a kiss as he moved past Luhan quickly, reaching the car door before him and opening it.

Luhan had thought for quite some time that Sehun would become unbearable. If the eighth month had been any indication, Luhan expected to be smothered intensely by Sehun all through his ninth, resulting in mass amounts of annoyance in all likely hood.

But for some reason, though Sehun still made quite a show of being overprotective, he’d let off somewhat. He was more than willing to let Luhan make his own choices without questioning them, and he was more accepting of what Luhan did when he didn’t agree.

Maybe therapy really was working for Sehun. He did seem to have a much better handle on his anger, his insecurities, and he undoubtedly was better at expressing himself.

“Think of this like a good thing,” Luhan suggested when Sehun climbed in the car, starting it right away and turning the heater on. “I’ll get to leave the house for a while, which prevents me from going stir crazy, and you’ll have time to get all your Christmas wrapping done.”

It was funny how Sehun looked sharply to the road.

“You haven’t finished all your Christmas shopping yet, have you?”

Luhan wasn’t one to judge. When he’d made his decision on what to do for Sehun for Christmas, and what to get him, it had been so with the knowledge that he was going to be cutting it very close. He was barely finished now, and not wholly satisfied that he’d had to rush himself.

“I finished!” Sehun protested, sneaking a look over to Luhan. “I’m just waiting on something. That’s all. Anyway, I’ve got time. I’ve got almost a week.”

“Plus an extra half day,” Luhan pointed out. “You finally agreed to go with Suho’s parents to church for Christmas morning, remember.”

“Yeah,” Sehun said a little gruffly. “But only because you made me.”

“I didn’t make you.”

Luhan hadn’t forced Sehun to agree at all. He’d merely pointed out that the next few Christmases were going to be especially prickly for Suho’s family, and how having Sehun there would ease some of the pain.

“I didn’t know Jae,” Luhan had told him, “but he really sounded amazing. If he was half as amazing to you, as he sounds to me, then I can’t believe you’re even contemplating not doing this for his parents. They were your parents too, in the eyes of the law. They might still consider you their son-in-law. At the very least, they probably still love you. And isn’t Suho always saying you do things for family that you nrmally wouldn’t, simply because they’re family?”

That was what Suho had done for him. Even if the tie between Suho and Youri had been fragile in the very beginning, Suho had acknowledged her. He’d gone out on a limb to support Luhan with his pregnancy. He’d show interest, care, and called Youri family. There was no way Suho hadn’t still been hurting from the loss of his brother and niece when Luhan had shown up pregnant. There was no way that wound hadn’t still been festering as if it were brand new. But he’d done for Luhan anyway, because he’d recognized Luhan as family.

“I said I’d go,” Sehun said, sighing loudly as he steered them deeper into Seoul. “It’s just, by the time Christmas rolls around you’ll be home from the hospital with Youri. She’ll only be a few days old and I don’t want to have to leave you.”

“Ah,” Luhan said lightly. “Don’t worry about that. While you’re off finding serenity through religion--”

Sehun gave a loud snort.

“--Xiumin, Tao and Kris are going to come over.”

Sehun tensed. “You’re going to let them all around Youri?”

Slowly, Luhan pointed out, “They are her uncles. There isn’t one of them who wouldn’t lay down on a wire for her.”

Scoffing, Sehun said, “I don’t mean it like that. I know they’d do anything to protect her. I’m more worried about … their cleanliness.”

Luhan laughed so hard he physically hurt. And it was a good laugh.

“Just because you mean to sterilize yourself in buckets of sanitizer, doesn’t mean my friends need to.”

“Hopefully I won’t be sterilized from that,” Sehun cut back quickly.

Luhan put a hand on Sehun’s thigh gently. “They’re smart, Sehun, and they’ve already been coached on this. They know if they want to handle Youri they’ll have to wash their hands, and they know not to come near her if they think they’re coming down with anything. Protecting her also extends to that.”

“All right,” Sehun said eventually. “I trust your judgment with them. Just don’t tell Chen? He’ll be upset I let your friends come over and not mine.”

Luhan leaned lazily back in his seat. “If he does, just tell him it comes down to Chen having his family here, and my friends not.”

“Tao and Kris aren’t going home?” Sehun inquired. “What about Xiumin? He is actually Korean.”

“Xiumin’s parents,” Luhan said, shaking his head, “haven’t been in Korea for years. They didn’t even come to his college graduation. They’ve never prioritized Xiumin, or Eunji for that matter. That’s why Xiumin and I have spent most of our Christmases together. Actually, we’ve spent them all together.”

Sehun asked, “What about Kris and Tao?”

“Kris’s parents barely remember he exists,” Luhan said, wondering if there was a trend in his closest friends. “They’re obsessed with their business and Kris wrote them off a long time ago. He hasn’t spent a Christmas with them since he was a minor. Tao’s a different story. His parents dumped him in Korea on purpose.”

“Are you serious?”

Luhan winced and said, “Tao’s got extended family here in Korea, and his parents jumped at the chance to drop him off so they could go off and enjoy their lives without responsibility. Tao’s been in Korea since he was in high school. He hasn’t had a Christmas with his parents since before then, and he’ll be graduating college in a couple of years. The four of us spending Christmas together is a tradition now, and Lay has always gone home to China for the winter break.”

“Okay, okay,” Sehun said, risking a glance over at Luhan. “You’ve got me. Bring your friends over to ooh and aww at our amazing baby while I sit in church and try not to fall asleep.”

“Thank you,” Luhan said indulgently, leaning over to kiss his mouth. “Now, I only plan to be out at Kai’s for a couple of hours. Are you planning on hanging around like a creeper while we talk about things you don’t understand, or are you going to go do something productive?”

They were coming up quickly on Kai’s studio when Sehun said, “I could go tell Suho that you agreed to take him up on his very generous offer.”

Luhan tried not make a face. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate his offer …”

Sehun offered to finish for him, “It’s just that he was an asshole to you and now you can’t trust that he won’t screw you over.”

Luhan held up a finger. “Firstly, Suho wasn’t an asshole. He hurt my feelings, but not because of the things he said. I was more hurt that he didn’t let me explain myself, that he shut me out, and that he believed I was capable of doing something which goes against the very essence of who I am. But also … it seems like a handout. I don’t need a handout, Sehun. My parents just dumped a very large sum of money on me. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me because of whatever reasons.”

“You’re not getting a hand out,” Sehun said right away. “If you don’t accept Suho’s offer, one of two things will happen. Either that house will sit empty, and he’ll have to pay for it to be that way, or he’ll loan it out to one of his many cousins who are … untrustworthy, to say the least. Suho and Jae were pretty much the cream of the crop. Everyone else, and I’ve met them, is the kind of family you hope doesn’t show up for the family gathering.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t want to sell?” Luhan was pretty unsure. “It seems like he’ll be staying in America for a couple of years at least, and that’s if he doesn’t find something that makes him want to stay.”

Sehun shook his head slowly. “That house is important to him. His parents helped him buy that house when he was still working his way up in his company. Jae lived with him there for a while when he was in college, and honestly, that’s the house that I first met Jae at. Suho was having a small get together and I was the friend of a friend who tagged along. That’s the house where Jae told Suho he was pregnant, and I believe Suho when he says it’s the house he wants to have a family in. He won’t sell. Even if that means the house sits vacant or gets abused by his cousins. He won’t sell for anything.”

“I like my apartment,” Luhan said.

“It’s small,” Sehun offered gently. “And Youri is going to be small for a while too, but what happens when she starts tottering around? God, what happens when she starts crawling? You’re on the third floor and the square footage is--”

“I was kind of thinking,” Luhan interrupted, his heart beating harder, “that by the time Youri can crawl … you and I …”

They eased to a stop at a red light and Sehun turned to look at him with a surprised face. “You thought what?”

His palms sweating, Luhan said, “I was thinking… hoping, actually, that by the time Youri is crawling around and getting into things, that we’d only have to baby proof one house. The one house we’re all living at.”

There. He’d said it. He’d said what was practically a declaration of intent. He wanted to live with Sehun in the near future. He wanted to share a house and cohabitate.

And for good measure he said, “I want that to be the house you just bought. You know, with the room you’re renovating right now for Youri.” When Sehun finished his work it was going to have a closet twice as big as it had been, a bay window that would let the morning light in spectacularly, and hardwood floors instead of the beige carpet it currently had.

“You want to move in?” Sehun asked, his voice at a whisper.

“Eventually,” Luhan said. “In six months? Nine? Whenever the time is right.”

And if that was something Sehun wanted as well, then what was the point of moving into Suho’s house?

Sehun was moving so fast Luhan barely registered him leaning over the center consul of the car to kiss him deeply. “I love you,” he mumbled against Luhan’s lips. “I want to marry you and have more kids with you and I’m terrified I’m going to scare you off by saying that, but it’s true.”

Luhan’s hand gripped tightly at Sehun’s leg as he pushed himself up into another kiss, savoring the way Sehun sighed happily against him.

A car horn blasted from behind them and Sehun jerked back with a heavy flush.

“How about we start with easing ourselves into living together? Luhan suggested. “We’ve always said we want to do right by Youri. We should want to do right by ourselves, too. No mistakes. Or at least as few mistakes as possible.”

Sehun let off the brake and they were zooming off toward Kai’s studio.

Sehun asked, “You did hear the part where I said I love you and I want to marry you and have more kids with you, right?”

“I did,” Luhan responded, a happy grin on his face. “You didn’t hear me say I was against it, did you?”

Almost giddy, Sehun said, “No. I mean … no. I just … didn’t expect you to take it so well. That’s a scary thing to hear from a guy that you’ve only known for nine months … more like six if we want to be completely honest here.”

Some people, Luhan knew, met their soulmate and fell instantly in love. Some people knew each other for days before getting married. There were some connections, and Luhan liked to think the one he had with Sehun was included, that transcended time.

“We’ll get there eventually,” Luhan said, and fully believed the words he spoke. “Because I love you and you love me, and when people love each other this much, and work so hard at making each other happy, good things happen in the end. Even if there are missteps along the way.”

They had to be sure and deliberate in the steps they took towards their future. They had to be careful. But they would get there. It was going to happen.

“Don’t let Kai work you too hard,” Sehun said once he pulled into the parking lot. “And please try to stay away from some of the construction that’s going on. Should you be wearing a hard hat? Make sure you get a hard hat from Kai.”

Luhan laughed and leaned over for a parting kiss. “The major construction is already complete, Sehun. Stop worrying. I won’t be going into any places that require hard hats. I’m here to look at the extensions and new rooms that I’ll be responsible for. Now, remember, I said it’ll take me a few hours. Do you want me to call you when I’m done?”

It seemed like Sehun was even more affectionate as he stroked a hand down the back of Luhan’s neck, their words from earlier softening him completely. “Yeah. Call me whenever you’re ready to go. I’m going to go see Suho. I have to tell him why it’s pointless for you to take him up on his offer.”

“Try not to sound too smug,” Luhan said, and he paused to enjoy the sensation of Sehun’s fingers. “And drive safely.” He gathered up his bag, his sketches safely inside, and heaved himself out of the car. With only a brief wave to Sehun he started his way towards the studio.

Kai was at the door waiting for him. He pushed it open and ushered Luhan through quickly, remaking loudly, “I can’t believe you came down here.”

Luhan pulled slightly at his scarf, which had tightened up almost to the point of choking him, and gave a quick look around the lobby of the studio. There were a couple of people loitering around, some of them dressed for the cold weather outside, but others not so much. There had to be a class starting soon.

“I won’t have a chance again for a long time,” Luhan said, holding his bag up. “I’m set to become a father in a couple of days, and the recovery period is going to be pretty extensive after that. I’ll be out or a couple of months before I’m able to get any real work done. I need to see the building.”

Kai gestured for Luhan to follow him. He said, “All the major construction is finished. What you see in terms of rooms and buildings, is what you’ll have to work with. There might be some minor modifications, but as soon as you’re ready to get started, nothing will have changed in a major way from now until then.”

“I did some preliminary sketches,” Luhan said, feeling more than a little winded from the walk to the studio, no matter how short it had been. “I want you to look at them and tell me honestly what you think. I’m a very fluid artist. I like to take input form my clients and modify the outcome of whatever I produce. But I have to warn you, I’ve been extra inspired with the pictures you sent me. I think you’re going to like what I came up with.”

Flashing him a thumbs up, Kai said, “Of that I have no doubt. Let’s swing by my office and look at those sketches. We’ll get something warm to drink, and then I’ll show you the first new sections of the studio. How does that sound?”

Luhan mirrored his gesture. “Lead on. I figure we only have a couple of hours before Sehun’s worry balloons out of control and he shows up to start nagging you about how long I’ve been up on my feet.”

Kai chuckled. “Got it. This way.”

Chapter Text

Something woke Sehun.

He sat up sharply in the darkness of his bedroom and wasn’t sure what it was that had jarred him out of the peaceful sleep he’d been having, only that something seemed wrong.

It took another moment for his sleep addled brain to kick in, and then he was reaching down for the spot next to him that was vacant. His fingers hit sheets that were still warm, which meant it was Luhan getting up from bed that had woken him, even if he wasn’t in the room anymore.

Luhan had been sharing his bed with him for days now, ever since their fateful if not awkward rushed confessions in the car. It had seemed, with Luhan declaring his intent to live with Sehun before a year passed, and Sehun practically proposing, that there wasn’t really a reason for them to sleep separately.

Not that they’d even discussed it.

Two days previous Luhan had followed him up to his bedroom, a pillow clutched in one hand and stated, “I’m going to sleep here, okay?”

Sehun would never have turned him away, even if he hadn’t had romantic feelings for Luhan. Because sleeping next to Luhan meant angling Youri between them, and getting to have the skin to skin contact that was comforting beyond words.

Sehun didn’t have the heart to say anything, but Luhan was sort of a menace to sleep with. He’d had a clue about what Luhan’s sleeping habits were like in weeks and months previous, but it wasn’t until they were sharing a small space that he realized how Luhan absolutely dominated the space they had, relegating Sehun to a corner. And Luhan kicked in his sleep. He was rather territorial and violent.

At least until Sehun wrapped him up in a strong embrace and twined their feet. That seemed to be the trick to getting Luhan to settle down enough not to drive Sehun absolutely crazy.

So it was easy to say that Sehun had gotten used to having a warm body next to him fairly quickly. He was terrified that one morning he’d wake up and think it was Jae next to him, but it was just as unbearable to imagine pushing Luhan away for that reason.

Luhan now not in the bed next to him, was startling.

“Luhan?” he called out, voice rough like sandpaper.

Sehun rolled from the bed as gracefully as he could manage and trekked across the dark bedroom for the bathroom. Luhan was always saying how impossible it was to sleep with Youri constantly on his bladder now, but a quick check to the small room indicated he wasn’t there.

“Luhan?” he called out again, this time with a more panicked tone.

Something heavy thudded beyond the bedroom door and Sehun was off at a run, throwing the door open and nearly tripping himself up as he hit the light for the hallway.

Luhan wasn’t too far away, looking absolutely sheepish with a potted plant in pieces near him.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his forehead in an embarrassed way, also leaning heavily against the stand the plant had been on. “I couldn’t find the light switch in the dark, and I didn’t see the plant. I’ll replace it.”

“I don’t care about the plant,” Sehun said a bit snappishly, taking a tentative step towards Luhan as his heart rate slowed back to something more normal. He hated the dark circles under Luhan’s eyes and the paleness to his skin, all indicators that the pregnancy was wearing him out and beating down his endurance. Sehun was honestly glad they were at the very end of it. Luhan was looking worse each day. “What are you doing up? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Luhan said with a shrug. “I woke up because something felt …”

Sehun was at his side in a flash, his heart thundering once more, almost achingly so as he palmed at Luhan’s stomach. “Wrong?”

“Different.” Luhan said almost right away. “Weird.” After a brief pause, he admitted, “I was going downstairs to call Eunji. I might be in labor.”

Sehun crashed hard against the nearby wall, his vision swimming. “You what?”

“Might be,” Luhan laughed out, but it was a wry, almost nervous laugh. It did nothing to comfort Sehun who was sucking in air frantically at the idea of Luhan finally being in labor.

“But you’re not due yet. You have a day.”

“It’s almost three in the morning,” Luhan said, and there was a sudden wince on his face, a tightening of the fingers he had at his sides, and all the signs that he was experiencing a contraction. “We were planning to leave for the hospital later today anyway. Technically, Youri’s on time.”

“Luhan,” Sehun said, trying now to regulate his breathing, “do you really think you’re in labor?”

Luhan arched an eyebrow. “I was prepared to scoot down your stairs on my butt, practically crawl my way into the living room, and then make a frantic phone call to my doctor at this time in the morning. Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is labor.”

Sehun gave a moan and pressed his forehead against the coolness of the wall.

Labor. Luhan was in labor.

Youri was ready to be born.

“Sehun?”

“I’m not ready,” Sehun said, feeling dizzy.

He’d had months to get ready for this moment, and now it seemed too sudden.

Gone was the excitement over the idea of bringing Youri home. Now he just wanted a little more time with Luhan, just the two of them.

“I don’t think you get to decide that,” Luhan said breathlessly. “But the contractions seem pretty far apart. I’ve only had a couple. We’ve got plenty of time to get to the hospital.”

At the mention Sehun jumped up, wide eyed. “Hospital!” he shouted, more than a little aware that he probably looked like a jackass. “We need to get to the hospital!”

Luhan’s long fingers settled on the sides of his faces and he suggested, “How about we call Eunji first? At the very least, I want the doctor who’s going to deliver my daughter to have more than five minutes to wake up before the actual surgery.”

Hands shaking and nerves out of control, Sehun asked almost angrily, “If you thought you were in labor, why didn’t you wake me up?”

Luhan turned to start for the stairs and Sehun was there in a second, hovering around him, making sure there were no missteps. He could picture Luhan with the utmost amount of determination on his face, scooting down the steps one at a time, too afraid to take a spill down them if any kind of dizziness happened upon him.

It was a picture that only served to raise Sehun’s blood pressure. Luhan should have woken him immediately if he thought something was wrong, or if he thought he was in labor. Sehun should have been awake from the moment the sensations started in Luhan.

With one hand on Sehun’s shoulder for balance, and the other on the banister, Luhan said, “Because honestly these could just be false contractions. They feel a little different from the last time I felt contractions, so I’m not sure. And if they are false, and this isn’t me going into labor before we decided to deliver, then I didn’t want to wake you up. You’re not exactly the calmest person right now.”

“Because I’m going to be a father at any second,” Sehun challenged back. “Who could be calm with that on their mind?”

They hit the landing a few minutes later and Luhan requested, “Go call Eunji, please. I’m going to get my coat and shoes just in case she says to come down to the hospital.”

Sehun shook his head. “Maybe you should just sit down and rest.”

Luhan pointed towards the living room. “Go. Stop waiting my time.”

Sehun took off. Far be it from him to argue with the man who was about to make his greatest wish come true.

“Eunji,” Sehun said the second the line clicked over. It was a private number Sehun had never dialed before, always reaching Luhan’s doctor through the hospital. But he was grateful to have it now, and more grateful that Luhan’s doctor was someone he could trust. “Luhan says he’s in labor!”

“Might be!” Luhan’s voice echoed across the house.

“Hm?”

Gripping the phone tightly, Sehun nearly shouted, “Eunji! Luhan might be in labor!”

There were odd sounds that came across the line, including the rustling of clothing, a couple of thuds, and a clicking of sorts, then Eunji said in a distant voice, “Jongdae. Get up.”

Sehun was distracted for a moment. “Eunji? Is Chen there?”

He wasn’t just distracted, he was a little relieved. If he and Luhan had to come to the hospital, Chen would know about it, and he’d be right there with Eunji. He was one less person Sehun would have to frantically call if this turned out not to be a false alarm.

“Put Luhan on the phone,” Eunji said more firmly. “And for god’s sake, breathe into a paper bag if you think you’re going to pass out. I need you to get Luhna to the hospital in one piece, if this is it.”

Sehun sat heavily on the sofa and tried to put his head between his knees as he listened to Luhan speak quickly with Eunji. He reported how far apart he was feeling the possible contractions, described them and their intensity, and eventually said, “I don’t think these are false contractions. And I don’t want to take any chances.”

That seemed to seal the deal for Sehun. He was in agreement that even if they weren’t actual contractions, if Luhan wanted to go to the hospital, so did Sehun. They were scheduled to make an appearance in around twelve hours anyway, so there didn’t seem any harm in going early.

Sehun took back the phone with growing confidence. “Eunji, if Luhan says he’s worried and he wants to go to the hospital, then we’re going. You’re his doctor. You need to support him in this and meet us there.”

“Sehun,” she replied, sounding more awake but less severe, “I was going to tell Luhan to come down anyway. He’d too close to his due date for me not to check him over in a situation like this. And yes, I agree, the best thing to do right now is support Luhan. He knows his body better than anyone, and if he’d feeling off, it’s something to take note of.”

“So just come down? You’ll meet us there?”

There was something odd happening on Eunji’s side of the phone, but then a second later Sehun could hear Chen saying, “Sehun? Luhan’s having the baby?”

Sehun replied, “We think he might be. Can you take Eunji to the hospital? Luhan and I are heading out right now.” From his position on the sofa Sehun could see Luhan struggling to get his jacket done up with fingers that didn’t seem to be cooperating. For just a second Sehun took a moment to recognize that any fear he was feeling, Luhan must have been feeling so much more.

“I’ll be there,” Chen said, “and I’ll call the others.”

Sehun got to his feet, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. He crossed to Luhan and helped him secure the buttons and ties on the jacket, smoothing out the material and telling Luhan softly, “We’re okay. We’re going to the hospital now. We’re going to be just fine.”

“Sehun?” Chen asked.

“Just meet us,” Sehun said, and then he was tossing the phone away and bending to envelop Luhan in a comforting hug. “Are you okay?” he asked, feeling Luhan warm and so alive against him.

“Scared,” Luhan admitted, clutching back at Sehun. He seemed a million times braver than Sehun for saying it.

“We’re going to go to the hospital right now,” he said, giving Luhan one last squeeze, faintly able to feel Youri through all their layers. “Give me five seconds to change and grab your bag, then we’re out of here.”

It might have been the fastest he’d ever dressed in his life. It wasn’t a flattering shirt he was wearing when he came flying back down the stairs, Luhan’s hospital bag in hand, but it was the furthest thing from his mind.

Likewise, he tried to push from his mind how small and fragile Luhan looked all the sudden, seemingly dwarfed in his winter coat, his plaid pajama bottoms peeking out from under the jacket.

It was an illusion, he told himself, reaching out for Luhan’s hand. Luhan had always appeared more fragile than he was. Luhan was, in fact, impossibly strong and courageous and downright tough.

“Hospital?” Luhan asked hopefully.

“Eunji and Chen will meet us there,” Sehun promised. “We should get going.”

Luhan’s eyebrows pulled together and he asked carefully, “Are you okay to drive?”

“Luhan.” Sehun kissed him gently and fussed one last time with Luhan’s coat. “I would never get in the car with you if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that I could get us safely to the hospital. You believe me?”

There was no hesitation as Luhan nodded. “I believe you.”

It was a tense drive to the hospital anyway.

It was incredibly early in the morning, but Seoul was a city that hardly ever slept, which meant there were still plenty of cars on the road and plenty of traffic leading up to the hospital. Sehun tried to keep himself and the car steady as they made the drive, but he could see from the corner of his eye every time Luhan clenched up, eyes closing and fingers gripping his stomach tightly in what had to be a contraction.

Sehun had no idea how painful they were, so far Luhan had been a little snappish, but otherwise fairly calm, but any kind of pain was more than Sehun wanted him to bear. He couldn’t wait to get them to the hospital where Luhan could get something for the pain and Sehun could worry a little less.

It was possible he’d only worry more.

By the time Sehun’s thoughts were running away from him, the hospital came into sight.

“I don’t want to freak you out,” Luhan said, gripping the handle to the door tightly. “But I’m pretty sure this is the real thing.” He was even whiter than before, and breathing in sharp gasps.

Sehun fumbled for his hand. “We’re going to be okay,” he said once more. “We planned for this.”

They’d planned to leave in the middle of the day, with no rush and as comfortable a delivery as possible, but they had still planned. They knew where to go, how the surgery would progress, and a rough timetable of events. That hadn’t changed.

“Luhan! Sehun!”

Eunji was already there by the time they made their way into the hospital. She was standing near the first nurse’s station, obviously expecting them, jotting something down quickly on a chart.

“Eunji,” Luhan breathed out, and looked as relieved as Sehun felt.

Chen was there a second later, clasping Sehun’s arm and saying, “You look a little pale there, Sehun. Come on, keep it together. Luhan’s the only one who gets to look like that.”

Eunji told Luhan quickly, “I’ve already started your admittance paperwork and we’ll have you in a room in about five minutes so I can look you over and decide what we’re going to do.”

“Decide?” Luhan choked out. “I know this is labor.”

Eunji gave him a placating smile. “Let your doctor decide, okay? You’d be surprised how convincing false contractions can be.”

It was a blur of time between them arriving and Sehun helping Luhan into a hospital gown. Then he sank into the seat next to the bed in Luhan’s room and scrubbed his hands over his head.

His fear was catching up with him, more than the normal panic he’d felt at learning Luhan was experiencing contraction. A more debilitating fear was creeping all around, and suddenly all he could think of was the hospital Jae had been taken to after his accident.

This wasn’t the same hospital Jae and Seoyoung had died at. It wasn’t even close to the hospital that had happened at, but the walls looked the same. The floor looked the same. The lights were just as bright and the coldness in the air was comparable. If Sehun didn’t know any better, he might think it was the same hospital. And that was an overwhelming feeling.

“Sehun?”

Socked feet dangling from the bed, Luhan looked worried at him. “Are you okay?”

Feeling ashamed, Sehun said, “I should be asking you that.”

But locked into his mind was the fact that nine months ago he’d lost the person he loved the most in the world, and he’d lost a child. He was in danger of the same thing happening again, no matter how routine Eunji claimed Luhan’s surgery was going to be.

“You don’t think you have a right to be as scared as I am?”

Sehun argued back, “I’m not the one about to have a baby.”

“Not technically,” Luhan replied. “But you’ve got more trauma associated with this than I do. And I love you, so I care if you’re having a hard time or not.”

Sighing heavily, Sehun raised himself from the chair and moved to Luhan’s side. “I just want to think about the positives. I want to think about how soon we’re going to be able to hold Youri, and what that means for us as a family.”

Before Luhan could reply, the door to the room was sliding open and Eunji came through with a tentative smile. “Okay,” she said, and gone was their friend, replaced with a medical professional. “Let me get a look at you and we’ll make some decisions.”

It was less than five minutes later that Sehun was leaning an arm up against the nearby wall, breathing deeply as Eunji explained to Luhan that delivery was necessary, and that he’d be heading up to surgery very soon.

“It’s okay,” she said, patting Sehun a little awkwardly between the shoulders. “You’re not the first father to freak out like this. But try not to be the latest to pass out. We’re going to need to be able to get Luhan out of this room without your body blocking the floor.”

“Funny,” Sehun said dryly.

He was going to be a father. Soon. Luhan was in labor and they were prepping for surgery. The full weight of that crashed into him.

“I’ll send a nurse in to get you started,” Eunji said, and not unkindly. “Then I’ll see you up in the operating room, Luhan, and Sehun, I’ll see you just after that.”

When she was gone Sehun collapsed against Luhan, one hand against his stomach, and said, “This is really happening.”

“Yes,” Luhan laughed out, sounding a bit more lighthearted. “I guess it really is. We’re going to be parents in a few hours.”

“You’re doing all the hard work,” Sehun said, his free hand cupping the side of Luhan’s face. “That doesn’t seem fair, but I love you so much for it.” His mouth pressed against Luhan’s and he had never imagined his feelings for Luhan could run deeper than they already had. But he was suddenly finding even more ferocity in the love he felt for Luhan, and it was utterly overwhelming.

Luhan all but burrowed into his side leaning further into the kiss. “I’m nervous,” he told Sehun eventually. “So nervous.”

Sehun felt a little stupid saying it, but he told Luhan, fingers tracing Youri’s movements, “I went to see Jae. I went to see where he’s buried, I mean. I’m not a believer. You know that. I don’t believe in any kind of afterlife or god or whatever. But Jae really did. And he believed with so much of his heart that there were times when I wanted him to be right. So there’s a chance he was. And if there is a god, if Jae was right, then there’s no way god wouldn’t make Jae one of his guardian angels.”

Luhan gave a soft hum.

“I asked Jae to watch over you,” Sehun continued. “I begged for him, if he’s up there and capable, to protect you and Youri. I want to believe that we’ve got that going for us today. And Eunji is an amazing doctor. I looked her up. She’s got a crazy impressive medical track record, and more than that, we trust her.”

“So be less nervous?” Luhan asked quietly.

“Maybe not that,” Sehun chuckled out. “I can’t see either of us being less nervous. But I think there’s something relevant and significant to how much we love each other, and how much we’ve fought to make this with Youri work. We’re going to get through today because we have to. Because we deserve to. That’s what I’m going to think about when they take you off to surgery. I’m going to think about how much I love you and trust you and how I’m going to probably cry like a baby the first time I see Youri and know I have you to thank for her.”

Luhan’s fingers brushed the pulse point at Sehun’s neck and he said, “I’m going to keep her safe, Sehun. I promised you that from the very beginning. I’ll keep her safe for you.”

“Keep yourself safe,” Sehun said, letting himself hold Luhan and simply feel him. “And know that I’ll be waiting for you the second that you’re out of surgery. Youri and I will be waiting.”

“All right,” Luhan said, and he sounded more confident than before. “I’m holding you to that.”

The nurse came next, pressing an IV into Luhan’s skin, helping him tuck his hair up into a protective cover, and holding consent forms out for him to sign.

Luhan signed the forms fearlessly, but Sehun felt absolutely traumatized by their presence. He knew what they were. He knew what they indicated. The hospital, he was certain the forms said, were absolved of responsibility if there were complications during the surgery which occurred naturally, and not due to any mistakes made by Eunji. If Luhan or Youri died, that would be the end of it, and Sehun couldn’t sue the hospital or hold them accountable for matters out of their hands.

The paperwork merely served as a reminder that Luhan could die. There could be uncontrolled bleeding or a rapid increase or decrease in blood pressure. Youri could go into fetal distress and never recover from it. A million things could happen that they’d have no way of seeing coming, and it would all be a fluke of bad luck.

“We’re ready,” the nurse said, tucking Luhan’s chart into the slot at the foot of his bed. She turned to Sehun and said, “You can walk with us until the final doors leading up to surgery.

It was happening too fast. As Luhan settled down in the bed, Sehun held his hand tightly, almost scowling at the extra nurses who appeared to roll Luhan’s bed out of the room. This was too fast.

“Sehun,” Luhan said, and squeezed his hand. “I want you to do me a favor.”

Chen was probably outside the room, but as they moved down the wide hallways all Sehun could see was Luhan, too pale against the white sheets.

“A favor?”

Anything. He’d do anything for Luhan.

They were following a blue line painted to the floor, and Sehun was only too aware that as soon as the line ran out, he’d be parted from Luhan.

“Call Xiumin?” Luhan asked. He gave Sehun’s hand another squeeze for good measure. “I promised him I’d let him know the second was in labor. It’s important that I have him here. I’ll feel better if he is. He’s my best friend.”

Sehun nodded quickly. “I’ll call him. I swear. I’ll get him down here no matter what.”

“He’s a heavy sleeper,” Luhan said with a grin. “Don’t try just once. He might not hear the phone the first try. Xiumin could sleep through an earthquake.”

“I will get him,” Sehun said, and it was a vow. “When you wake up, he’ll be here to tell you how beautiful Youri is.”

What was unexpected as Luhan saying, “Call Baekhyun after that.”

Sehun had already planned to make a million phone calls after he was forced to leave Luhan. D.O. had already left for work back in Europe, but everyone else, including a constantly anxious Suho, had wanted to be informed the second Luhan went into labor, if it happened before the scheduled date. Not to mention his mom. He had to call his mom and his sisters. There was no way they’d want to miss Youri’s birth. They’d probably kill Sehun if he let that happen.

But Baekhyun specifically? That was odd.

“Okay,” Sehun eased out, but he was confused. “Do I dare ask why? I know you two worked some things out, but--”

Luhan insisted, “It’s important. Take my word for it?”

Sehun saw the surgery wing’s double doors up ahead and his stomach bottomed out. This was it. The end of the line for him.

The nurse steering the bed gave Sehun a knowing look and let them slow to a standstill just before the doors.

“I love you so much,” Sehun said, hunching over Luhan like he could protect him from the world. “You are the most amazing person in the world and I’m so privileged to be someone you want to love back.”

“I love you too,” Luhan said, and then they were kissing madly, Sehun’s fingers craving the warmth of Luhan’s skin, desperate to eke out even a second more of time with him.

The nurse said, “That’s it.”

Sehun had never felt so alone in his life, watching Luhan disappear through the doors. That was his family he was losing sight of, a family that would either be better off in the end, or something so devastating Sehun wouldn’t want to go on without them.

“Sehun?” Chen said quietly from behind him. “Did they just take Luhan up for surgery?”

Sehun’s feet felt like lead, bolted to the ground as he stared at the blank, closed doors.

“Sehun?”

Blinking against sudden tears in his eyes, Sehun said, “I don’t think … there wasn’t enough time …”

“Come on.” Chen took him gently by the arms and led him away from the doors. Sehun wasn’t sure how Chen could make his legs work so easily. “It’s going to be a couple hours before we know anything.”

Before Sehun knew if everything had been smooth sailing, or if there’d been complications of the sort.

Chen took him to a nearby waiting room, pressed him down on a cushioned seat and then sat next to him. He put a hand on Sehun’s knee and said, “Eunji is the best doctor Luhan could have right now. She specializes in complicated pregnancies, and Luhan’s pregnancy hasn’t been that high risk. So you should be more than confident that she’ll take good care of him. She’s more than equipped to deal with any issues that pop up, and you know that.”

“I know,” Sehun echoed dully.

With some unease, Chen said, “Sehun, this isn’t like it was with Jae.”

It really wasn’t. Part of Sehun knew that. He’d gotten to spend time with Luhan just now, and they’d parted in the best way possible. Sehun had gotten to kiss him, and feel Youri, and know that Luhan was going into surgery strong. Sehun had felt him and known that.

Jae had been …

Seoyoung had likely been dead even before reaching the hospital. Sehun had never learned that for certain, but it was something he’d sensed. Seoyoung had probably died right after the accident, a result of the sheer blunt trauma. But Jae hadn’t passed until after he’d reached the hospital. Sehun hadn’t even gotten to see Jae before he died. He hadn’t gotten to hold his hand or tell him how much he loved him or anything. By the time Sehun had arrived at the hospital, Jae had already been rushed into emergency surgery.

“I know Luhan isn’t Jae,” Sehun said, gripping the arms rests of the chair. “I just …”

He just couldn’t shake the fear that even if they weren’t the same person, and the situation wasn’t nearly the same, the end result would be.

“I’m going to get you a cup of coffee,” Chen said, rising up to his feet. “I bet Luhan woke you right out of bed with the contractions. And something tells me you haven’t been sleeping that well anyway. Stay here while I get you some coffee, then we’ll start making calls.”

“Chen,” Sehun said, snagging his sleeve. He realized now that this would have been a hundred times harder without his best friend there with him, taking care of him. “Thank you. For everything.”

Chen let his hand rest at the back of Sehun’s neck. “You’re practically my brother,” Chen said, his fingers warm and comforting as they pressed down. “And this is what a brother does.”

Sehun’s head ducked down and he wasn’t sure how to get out his appreciation without breaking to tears that were already so close to the surface.

“Plus,” Chen chuckled out. “I know you’ll be the one keeping me together when Eunji and I decide to start a family. You’ll be the one bringing me coffee.”

Sehun said certainly, “You bet I will.”

“I’ll be right back,” Chen said, and jogged off to get the coffee.

The coffee, when Chen brought it back, actually helped. The jolt of caffeine kept him focused and steady enough to make his way to an area where he could use his cell phone. It was further from the waiting room than he wanted to be, but he didn’t plan on spending too much time away either.

He hoped Luhan forgave him, but his mother was the first person he called. He woke her out of bed, wincing as he could hear her yelling loudly in excitement, and then there was the sound of the call ending abruptly after that. It would have been comical under any other circumstances. But it was mostly comforting to know that she was on her way, that she’d support him, and that she’d bring his sisters with him.

Xiumin was just after that, and like Luhan had said, it had taken three different tries to get him to pick up his phone.

“What?” Xiumin had grumbled. “This better be important.”

For the first time Sehun cracked a smile. “Does your best friend being in labor count?”

Xiumin sucked in a loud gasp of air. “Are you sure?”

Sehun rucked up some of his hair. “The nurses just took him in for surgery. Eunji’s in there with him now delivering Youri.”

“Fuck!” Xiumin hissed, and then came the distinct sound of him falling out of bed. “Why’d you wait so long to call me? What the fuck is your problem?”

“Just get down here,” Sehun said, thumb inching towards the end call button. “I’ll call Kris. You pick up Tao. Divide and conquer.”

Across the cell phone area, Sehun could see Chen taking to someone who sounded like Chanyeol.

Divide and conquer.

In less than half an hour, which had to be insanity of some sort, Sehun was surrounded by his friends, and Luhan’s. Twenty more minutes and Sehun was wrapped up in his mom’s strong embrace. His sisters weren’t far behind.

“You doing okay?” Suho asked as the minutes dragged on. It was nothing but a waiting game and Sehun hated it.

Across the room Baekhyun’s knee was bouncing erratically, a tight and uncomfortable look on his face. Sehun had known Baekhyun for ages now, and he’d never seen him look the way he did now. But he’d been one of the first to arrive, though the last called, asking after Luhan with serious concern. So Sehun wasn’t sure what to make of him at all.

Sehun sunk a little into his seat as his mother’s hand rubbed across his back.

“Babies,” he told Suho, trying to sound strong, “get born all the time like this. They get born every day without complications. There’s no reason to think Luhan’s delivery is going to be any different.”

“That’s true,” Suho agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to be worried. You’re crazy if you don’t think every father who ever waited for word on the delivery of his child, wasn’t worried half to death as well.”

“I just …” Sehun grasped at Suho’s hand. “I love him very much. I loved Luhan so easily after losing Jae I nearly sabotaged everything between us. And I can’t lose him, or Youri.”

Suho’s head knocked against Sehun’s gently. “Jae would be so happy for you, you know.”

Sehun had to crack the smallest of smiles. “He’d find it hilarious how I’m flailing around, terrified of the first moment I get to hold my baby. Suho, do you have any idea how many dreams I’ve had over the past few weeks about dropping Youri?”

“You’re not going to drop her,” Suho laughed out. “Luhan wouldn’t let you.”

Something terrible overtook Sehun. “What if Luhan’s not there to stop me?”

Suho scoffed. “You know that’s never going to happen.”

“You don’t know,” Sehun argued back. There was a hole in his stomach even now after being parted from Luhan. And it was only threatening to grow.

“I guess not,” Suho said. “But I have faith. It’s what Jae would have if he were here. I have faith that god will take care of Luhan and things will turn out the way they’re supposed to.”

Never before in his life had Sehun wanted to be a believer so badly.

“Suho?” he asked, eyes raking over the amalgamation of friends and loved ones spread out in the waiting room. “I don’t think it’ll mean anything coming from me. But can I ask you to do something for me?”

Suho shrugged. “Anything?”

“Pray?” It might have been a foolhardy thing to do, but Sehun felt like every bit might help. “Will you pray for Luhan and Youri?”

Suho threaded their fingers. “How about you pray with me?”

“But I don’t believe,” Sehun protested. “I can’t make myself believe something like that.”

“But I believe,” Suho said. “I believe enough for the both of us. Now, close your eyes and I’ll start.”

“I’ll pray with you too,” Sehun’s mom said, her hand rubbing more firmly across his back, and Sehun felt bracketed from both sides with love.

“Dear god,” Suho started, and Sehun clenched his eyes closed.

Sehun had to believe, even if he was forcing himself to, that Luhan was okay. He had to believe that Youri was being born perfectly healthy and as beautiful as Sehun imagined her to be. And there was some part of him, the most important part, that was relying on the belief that Luhan would come through no worse for wear and spend the next several decades being the love of Sehun’s life.

Because he couldn’t suffer devastating losses anymore. He couldn’t deal with having the most important part of him ripped away.

He had to have faith that Luhan would be okay, and that together they’d take Youri home to start a new life.

Sehun loved Luhan too much for any alternative to become reality.

Time passed slowly.

“Sehun,” Xiumin’s voice cut through Suho’s prayers and Sehun’s own thoughts.

Sehun jerked back into reality just in time to see a doctor in green scrubs approaching them. It wasn’t Eunji, but the male doctor was clearly headed for them, an unreadable look on his face.

News. He was bringing news.

But why was he bringing news and not Eunji?

Sehun shot up to his feet, ignoring how he jarred both his mother and Suho. “How’s Luhan?” he demanded.

Everything hinged on what came next, and Sehun held his breath as he waited.

Chapter Text

Youri was the most beautiful thing Luhan had ever seen in his life.

And she was perfect.

Luhan cradled her in his arms a full day after she’d been born and he couldn’t imagine his life without her already.

More than that, he was already trying to recall why’d been so worried about becoming a father. Because he looked at her now and he felt more of a connection to her than when she’d been inside him, and even more of an urge to protect her. He felt confidence in being able to.

Stoking a finger down her cheek Luhan reveled in the feel of her powder soft skin, and she was downright adorable with the tuffs of brown hair at the top of her head. She was sleeping currently, content and still in his arms, swaddled in a pink blanket. But when she woke and opened her eyes, Luhan knew there’d be mesmerizing dark orbs staring back at him, Sehun’s eyes.

Luhan couldn’t help leaning down and breathing in her fresh scent. She smelled like all of Luhan’s hopes and dreams.

“You know,” Sehun said from the nearby chair, his phone raised as he recorded Luhan and Youri, “most parents think their kid is really cute, but for sure, ours is the cutest.”

Luhan couldn’t help agreeing. Youri’s features were still soft from birth, but her skin was pale like the moon and her features were curved with beauty. She was sure to have a small, almost button nose, but she also had all the hints that eventually she’d have high, regal cheekbones, and a pretty roundness to her face.

It was a lie that babies were cute after they were born. Luhan had seen enough newborns to know that most were incredibly ugly. But Youri wasn’t. Youri was unbelievably attractive, and Luhan wasn’t certain if she’d just lucked out with some weird combination of genes, or if it had something to do with how she’d been delivered. She certainly hadn’t had her skull warped by having to squeeze through a narrow passage.

“She’s so beautiful,” Luhan breathed out, barely able to comprehend that she was in his arms now.

“She looks like you,” Sehun said, angling his phone up higher. “But you know, she also kind of looks like my mom. It’s weird.”

It would probably be years more before they could actually determine who she best looked like, but for now Luhan was more than willing to settle for Youri taking after Sehun’s side of the family.

“She’s a good sleeper too,” Luhan remarked. From the moment he’d been moved to a recovery room, and been allowed to keep Youri with him for most of the day, he’d been privy to her moods. Already she was defining herself as an individual, becoming incredibly cranky and fussy when she was hungry, but also enamored enough by the people around her to quietly observe the world when her diaper was clean and her stomach was full.

She slept an awful lot, too. Luhan had been prepared for a screaming baby most of the time. He’d coached himself to accept a baby who was externally loud and unhappy, at least until he was able to better learn what each of her cries meant. But as long as Youri was fed and changed, she slept on, and did so quite frequently.

Sehun lowered his phone and he leaned over Luhan to kiss the top of Youri’s head. “You’re the most amazing person I know, Luhan. You’re so damn amazing for giving me her.”

“Look at our girl,” Luhan urged. “You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

Luhan still remembered the exact moment he saw Youri. He’d already been moved to a private room, and was weaning off the drugs he’d been given during his surgery to keep him asleep, when he’d cracked his gummy eyes open and tried to make sense of the blurry world around him.

Everything had hurt. It hadn’t been a severe hurt, proving he was on high quality painkillers, but it was a dull throb from the top of his chest down almost to his thighs that promised something more terrible was coming when the drugs wore off completely.

Then the world had come into focus. Luhan had seen the ceiling above him first, and then Sehun second. He’d seen Sehun’s supportive, somewhat worried face, and Youri had been in his arms.

“She’s perfect,” Sehun had said, and then he’d held her up for Luhan to see flawlessly.

Luhan had fallen in love with her in that moment, something that it was clear Sehun had already done.

“You did all the hard work,” Sehun said, kissing Youri once more, not jostling her in the least bit as she slept on. “I just waited.”

Feeling some weakness in his arms, Luhan handed Youri carefully to Sehun, who accepted her gratefully. Then Luhan leaned back against his pillows gingerly and said, “That’s not true at all. You supported me and loved me and did anything I wanted of you. You did not just wait.”

Luhna thought the picture that Sehun made, holding Youri, was the second best thing he’d ever seen.

It was certainly something that made him feel a warmth of certainty in him that Sehun was always meant to be a father. Youri was something precious to Sehun, and Luhan had only done his part to fulfill something that always should have been.

“She’s so small,” Sehun said, settling comfortably into the plush seat next to Luhan’s bed. He was careful to support her neck and head and keep her held to him in a protective manner. “I know she was in you, so she had to be small, but she feels …fragile. Breakable. I’m kind of terrified holding her.”

Luhan gave a low chuckle that made his stomach ache. “You’re not going to break her.”

“No,” Sehun agreed, and he sounded confident. “But she’s still so small.”

“Seven pounds even,” Luhan relayed. “That’s just about average. But she’ll get bigger. Before we know it she’ll be sitting up on her own, crawling, and then walking. She’ll grow up before we know it. I think we should take some time to enjoy her like this.”

Sehun gave a serous nod. “I’ll never take for granted a single aspect of her life.”

With a sigh of content, Luhan asked, “When are the masses going to start breaking down the door?” He’d half expected to find more than a dozen people in his room when he woke up. He knew that most of them were still at the hospital, camped out in the waiting room, with all the patience in the world. The fact that only Sehun and Youri had been with him in the private room was unexpected.

“Later today,” Sehun said. “Probably right before visiting hours are over. Eunji said by then she’ll be sure that they’re not going to overwhelm you.”

Flatly, Luhan said, “My friends are not going to overwhelm me. Not when I know they’re here to coo over my baby, and not me.”

Sehun, it seemed, had mastered baby whispering over night. Youri was sleeping, which was something that she did frequently, but never lasted for long. Still, she’d been asleep for over an hour now, and it probably had something to do with the rocking motion that Sehun had put her into. It looked a little weird, Sehun dipping back and forth before curling around, but it seemed to be working.

Sehun shook his head. “I think we should be overly cautious right now. You need to take it as easy as possible, and I won’t let anyone get you worked up because they’re excited over Youri.”

It was a little like Sehun had grown up over night. He’d certainly been a man before, but there was new founded maturity that Luhan could see in him.

“Sehun,” Luhan said lightly. “I don’t need to take it that easy. There were no complications with my surgery. I’m sore, yes, but that’ll fade with time.”

Sehun argued back, “There were complications.”

“Mild ones,” Luhan argued back.

He’d had a bad reaction to the anesthesia towards the end of his surgery. It wasn’t something unheard of, and there hadn’t been any lasting effects. He rather wished that Eunji hadn’t said anything to Sehun about it.

Sehun stilled, Youri clutched delicately. “Luhan, your blood pressure bottomed out. And they were having trouble waking you up. That is not mild. Eunji was in there with you, in the operating room, trying to keep you stable, and I got to learn my daughter had been born from a doctor who meant nothing to me. I thought … I was sure …”

Sehun had thought he was dead. And for that, Luhan was eternally guilty.

Sinking a little further down into the sheets, Luhan said, “You look tired, Sehun.”

“I am tired,” Sehun replied, then he stood carefully to place a still sleeping Youri in the bassinet next to the bed. “Don’t hog the whole bed.”

The thin mattress of the hospital bed sagged a little and then Luhan felt the warmest, best weight against his back, carefully holding him. Sehun was aware of where the IV lines were, and his delicate stitches, and managed to avoid it all spectacularly. Like a real pro.

Sehun’s lips kissed the back of Luhan’s neck and he said, “I really love you so much.”

Their fingers slid together easily. “I love you too.”

“No,” Sehun insisted. “I don’t think you have a clue how much I love you. You are so perfect and wonderful for doing this, and for putting up with everything, and for making something as precious as Youri. I love you so much I feel like my heart is going to explode out of my chest.”

Luhan chuckled a little. “Is this the baby high Eunji warned me about?”

Sehun’s breath puffed out along Luhan’s skin. “Baby high?”

Tiredly, Luhan let his eyes close as he explained quietly, “It’s this thing that happens with new fathers. They get so high off of having a new baby that they see everything and everyone through rose colored glasses. If Xiumin walked through the door next you’d start hugging him as if he were your best friend, because of the baby high.”

Sehun laughed. “Maybe. It’s possible. I’ll consider your words.”

A grin stretched out across Luhan’s face. “And for the record, I love you too. More than you can possibly imagine.”

There was the distant rumbling of Sehn saying something else, but with Youri sleeping soundly in the basinet not five feet away, Luhan drifted easily into sleep.

The next time he woke up it was with the startling realization that Sehun was gone from the room. And so was Youri.

“It’s okay,” Xiumin said right away, one hand on Luhan’s shoulder, as if he could sense the panic flushing through him. “Youri had to go up to the nursery for some tests and Sehun went with her.”

Luhan cleared his throat and tried to sit up, but there was a stab of pain so horrible in his gut that he simply laid there, trying to get his bearings. “He went with her?”

“Yeah,” Chen said, and it was then that Luhan realized there were several people in his waiting room, including Suho in a rumpled business suit and a sleepy looking Tao. “I don’t think Sehun needed to go with her, he just wanted to hover around to make sure she doesn’t get kidnapped or switched at birth.”

“Shut up,” Xiumin snapped. “That’s not what Luhan needs to hear.”

Luhan swallowed down the rising fear. Sehun had gone with Youri. He was with her and he’d keep her safe until she could be back under Luhan’s protective watch.

“Luhan?” Chen offered, looking bashful. “I’m sorry I said that.”

This was Sehun’s best friend, Luhan told himself. And Chen was a little dull when it came to the propriety of what he said, but he always meant well.

“It’s okay,” Luhan assured, then he forced a smile. “God help the idiot who tries to even breathe on Youri.”

Chen gave an agreeing nod. “Eunji’s been hinting that some of the nurses are pretty scared of Sehun. One of them picked up Youri who was sleeping and she started crying. I guess Sehun almost killed the nurse on the spot.”

That probably should have been something worrying, but in all actuality it was pleasing to Luhan on some kind of instinctual level. Youri was so little at the moment, and completely unable to protect or defend herself. That Sehun would be so attentive and downright scary in her defense, was something that was a complete turn-on.

Luhan blamed the fact that his hormones were still incredibly out of control.

That was the only explanation for nearly popping wood at the mere through Sehun protecting their daughter against a dangerous world. Sehun as a father was the most attractive thing he’d ever experienced, and his body knew it.

Voice scratchy, Luhan asked, “When will they be back?”

Suho patted Luhan’s blanket covered foot. “They left about half an hour ago, so it won’t be long before they’re back. Sehun’s been pushing to get Youri to spent the night here, instead of having to go back to the nursery. Something tells me he’s negotiating that as we speak.”

Luhan gave a weary nod. The absolute worst part of the day was when Youri had to go back to the nursery. With a couple more days left before he could be released, Luhan wanted all of them spent with Youri in arm’s length.

“Have you all seen her?” Luhan asked.

Calmly, Suho said, “We saw her a couple hours after she was born.”

Tao nodded excitedly. “We went up to the nursery and Sehun got to hold her and we got to watch.” He gave a pout. “Xiumin got to hold her too.”

“Sehun let you hold her?” Luhan laughed out.

Xiumin, seated on the edge of Luhan’s bed, said, “Sehun and I have had our differences, but I think some events have made us stronger, and I think we could even call ourselves tentative friends. Youri isn’t just my niece, Luhan. She’s going to be my goddaughter.”

It was something that Luhan had talked to Sehun about recently. Life was short. But more than that, life was unpredictable. It could also be cruel, as evidenced by Jae’s death. Luhan wanted to give Youri the most protection possible, and that was why he and Sehun had decided on a good deal of things related to her, but most importantly who would raise her if anything happened to them.

It was going to be Xiumin. It was always going to be Xiumin, no matter how responsible Suho was, or how Chen was Sehun’s best friend.

Of all the possible candidates, there was no one Luhan trusted more with his daughter than Xiumin, and Luhan knew if push came to shove, he’d love her like she was his own daughter.

“I know,” Luhan said, giving Xiamen a firm nod. “Where’s everyone else?”

Suho laughed out, “Sehun finally convinced his mother and sisters to go home. They got to take turns holding Youri for a few minutes, and it seemed to be enough to hold them over. They left a couple of hours ago, but you can bet they’ll be back before you’re released.”

It was a hard thing, getting used to having family, even extended family, who cared so much they worried and hovered and were quick to help in any way possible.

Tao spoke up, “Kris had to go to work. He stayed until this morning. He said to tell you Youri is the prettiest thing ever, and that if you ever need help beating up any kids who come around wanting to date her, to just call him up.”

“I think Sehun has that covered,” Luhan insisted.

Youri was probably never going to get to date. She’d be lucky if Sehun accepted the concept when she was forty.

“Chanyeol and Baekhyun,” Chen said, “will be back later, too. Baekhyun had a semester prep meeting at the school, and Chanyeol’s got to pick up the slack for Sehun while he’s out.”

Not that Luhan could say anything to any of them, but he was looking forward to speaking with Baekhyun. As far as Luhan knew, they were the only two aware that Baekhyun currently was his medical proxy. And while there’d been a couple of issues at the very end of his surgery, there hadn’t been anything that required Baekhyun to step in.

But still, Luhan wanted to thank him.

Luhan wanted Baekhyun to know that he appreciated Baekhyun’s willingness to make a choice that prioritized Youri over Luhan himself.

Because he’d held Youri now. He’d looked down into her dark, innocent eyes, traced her beautiful features, and soaked in the warmth of her skin. She was worth any sacrifice, even if it was his own life. He needed to tell Baekhyun of how sure he was of that now.

“They’re both coming back?” Luhan asked to be certain.

Chen nodded. “Baekhyun will be back right after the meeting lets out. Chanyeol might be a little longer, and he said something about trying to smuggle in some food for you?”

Luhan nodded and said fondly, “Chanyeol was telling me a while ago about how he had to have his appendix out last year. He said the worst part of it all wasn’t the actual surgery, but the food afterwards.”

Suho rolled his eyes. “He couldn’t keep much down afterwards anyway. It had nothing to do with the quality of hospital food.”

“He said because I had to stay longer than him,” Luhan added, “he was going to make sure I had something good to eat. Comfort food.”

Luhan wasn’t exactly sure was the hospital policy on outside food was, but if there was even a chance Chanyeol could sneak some in, he was going to eat it. Hospital food was terrible. It was barely food in Luhan’s opinion, and after a mere day of it, he was more than fed up with the bland flavors.

As Tao turned to say something to Chen and Suho, Luhan clutched at Xiumin’s wrist.

“Are you okay?” Xiumin asked, leaning down so their faces were close. “Do you need a doctor?”

The most ridiculous, uncontrollable smile crossed his face and he said, “Xiumin, I’m a father now.”

It took Xiumin a half second more to grin back. “I guess you are now. How does it feel?”

Honestly, Luhan said, “Scary. Really scary.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Xiumin said in a genuine way. “You’re going to be such a great father. Even if you don’t know how to be one at first, I know you’re going to take to it easily.”

Luhan tucked a hand under his pillow and sighed, “I want everything to be perfect with Youri. I don’t want to make any mistakes with her or do anything wrong. And it’s making me overly anxious because I know that’s not a reality. I know I’m going to make a ton of mistakes.”

Xiumin twisted his wrist so that they were holding hands. “Everyone makes mistakes. That’s half of what being a parent is. But as long as you always try and do right by Youri, she’ll love you back no matter what.”

Grinning widely, Luhan said, “You really missed your calling, Xiumin. Haven’t I told you that before? You’re wasted as a vet.”

“I like animals,” Xiumin defended. “They’re easy. People are more difficult.”

Luhan reasoned, “I don’t know, you’re pretty good at giving me advice.”

“You’re different.” Xiumin shrugged. “You’re my best friend.”

Sehun arrived back shortly after that, bringing with him Youri who was awake and blinking slowly at the world around her.

“Hey,” Sehun greeted, kissing Luhan gently as he deposited Youri into his arms. “Are these schmucks giving you trouble? I’ll run them all out if that’s what you want.”

“Funny,” Xiumin said flatly.

Luhan barely registered that they were talking to each other, Youri capturing the whole of his attention. She we was swaddled fairly tightly in the way he was learning she preferred, but one tiny hand was peeking out, fingers so small they barely seemed real.

Luhan reached his own finger out, nudging at her hand until her fingers were curling around his digit, holding one with the smallest of grasps.

“What did you take her for?” Luhan asked, kissing Youri’s pale cheeks.

“Some basic tests,” Sehun said, replacing Xiumin on the edge of the bed. “She passed with flying colors, of course. She’s able to track basic shapes, she can hear just fine, her reactions are normal, and Eunji thinks that we’ve got a perfectly healthy, completely normal little girl.”

Across the room Luhan could see as Suho watched Youri with a gleam of wetness in his eyes.

For a second Luhan stopped to consider how difficult this had to be for him.

In a perfect world Suho would have been standing in his brother’s hospital room, awing over a niece who actually shared his blood. Luhan wondered if he was looking at Youri now, taking in all of the features that she shared with Sehun, trying to imagine Jae mixed in instead of Luhan.

“Suho?” Luhan asked, head cocking towards him.

“She’s very beautiful, Luhan,” Suho said, giving him a soft smile. “She looks a lot like you.”

If Suho were a man with less integrity, or had less love for Sehun, he might have bowed out already.

“Do you want to hold her?” Luhan asked. “She’ll be hungry soon, which means she’ll start crying then, but she’s nice and calm now. Are you interested?”

There was an encouraging smile on Sehun’s face that said he absolutely agreed with the offer.

“Me?” Suho asked, surprised.

“Of course you,” Luhan said.

Tao said with a frown, “I want to hold Youri. I’m her uncle, too.”

Sehun’s smile was gone for that. “How about we wait until she’s a little older for you to hold her.”

Tao looked even less happy at that. “I’m not a kid. I’m almost twenty. I think I can handle holding a baby.”

“Suho first,” Luhan said, watching Suho move closer to the bed. “And then yes, Tao, you can hold Youri afterwards.”

Tao wasn’t a child, no matter how juvenile he could seem at times. And he wouldn’t drop Youri. Luhan was certain of that.

Looking pleased with the compromise, Tao moved quickly to the side to give Suho enough room to take the baby comfortably.

“There you go,” Luhan said encouraging to Suho when Youri was safely in his arms. “Not that hard, right?”

Suho gave both Luhan and Sehun the brightest smile he’d ever managed as he looked between them and Youri. “She’s perfect.”

“I know,” Sehun said proudly.

Luhan settled comfortably back against him. “Was there ever any doubt?”

Suho chuckled. “Not really.”

Two days later, feeling a little stronger but still in an incredible amount of pain around his abdominal area, Luhan signed his release papers and got to dress in his regular clothes to go home.

“I’m glad to get out of here,” Sehun said from where he was kneeling on the floor, doing up the laces on Luhan’s shoes. “And to take Youri with us.”

Youri was nearby in her bassinet, dressed in the tiniest, but most adorable lavender onesie that Luhan had been able to find. There were matching newborn mittens on her fingers that would be able to come off soon, and a lace headpiece that helped identify her gender right away. Along with the blanket she’d soon be wrapped in, she was ready to be settled into her carseat and taken out of the hospital for the first time.

Luhan was nervous about that, because it wasn’t until very recently that he’d realized how much of a comfort having a doctor nearby just in case was, but he was excited to get home and settle her in to her nursery.

“It’s about time,” Luhan said gently, holding out an arm as Sehun moved to help him into his jacket next.

Sehun cupped Luhan’s face and kissed him soundly, promising, “I know it’s going to be scary to be on our own with her, but I think we’re going to do okay.”

Luhan pressed up into the kiss. “We have Eunji on speed dial, too,” Luhan reminded.

The most frustrating part, Luhan thought for sure as he eased himself onto his feet with a low groan, was the fact that he couldn’t lift anything. He still needed Sehun’s help to hold Youri confidently, and it was absolutely out of the question that he could lift her into the carseat or carry it to the car itself. “I wish I could carry her out of here.”

“You just had major surgery,” Sehun reminded as he buckled Youri in carefully. Her eyelids were drooping and Luhan was sure she’d be asleep in seconds. She was recently fed and changed, which meant an hour or two nap before she was hungry again.

That was true, and on some level he recognized that, but on another he felt as if he were failing Youri somehow. If she started crying, and Luhan wanted to hold her he had to wait for Sehun to hand her to him. What kind of father was he that he couldn’t pick his baby up?

“Luhan,” Sehun said gently, turning away from Youri to wrap him up in a firm hug. “You carried our baby for nine months. Literally nine months. You did all that work and you risked your life delivering her into this world. So now let me do a little of the carrying. It doesn’t mean anything that you’re recovering from surgery and can’t carry her out of here. If anything, it just means how resilient and determined you are that you came through surgery no worse for wear.”

Luhan wound his arms around Sehun and pressed in even closer. Sehun was absolutely right, and he knew that he ought to be carrying his soreness like a badge of honor. But he was sore. He was sore and uncomfortable and not being able to tie his own shoes, let alone pick up his daughter, was straining.

“Okay,” Luhan said, forcing himself to accept the situation. For now Sehun would carry Youri, and do for her what Luhan couldn’t. And in a few weeks, when Luhan was feeling better and in less pain, things would be different.

“Fingers crossed,” Sehun said, releasing Luhan and finishing securing Youri in the car seat. “No wailing babies on the way home.”

Luhan reached a gentle finger out and stroked down Youri’s cheek. “She’s not that kind of baby.”

Sehun laughed. “You say that now, but wait until she’s upset at two in the morning. And god forbid we don’t get up fast enough to attend to her.”

“Looking forward to that?” Luhan asked. He forced himself to stop fussing over Youri. She was dressed warmly enough to be outside for a half minute, and she was content enough to make it home.

Sehun reached for the handle to the carseat and lifted it carefully. “Daydreaming about it already.”

They had to walk slow. They had to walk so slow it was almost frustrating, but Luhan could barely shuffle along without feeling a burn of pain, and his top speed seemed to be a snail’s pace.

Sehun, not seemingly bothered by it at all, commented, “You’ll be happy to know that I talked my mom out of ambushing us in the lobby.” They entered an elevator that was thankfully empty, and Sehun leveled Youri up a little higher, telling her, “Your grandma promised not to blind you with the flash on her phone until you’re at least six months.”

Luhan leaned over Youri and said, “Your daddy thinks he’s such a comedian, Daiyu. We’re going to forgive him for now, if he doesn’t push his luck.”

Luhan could feel his stomach pulling slightly as the elevator descended. The motion had never made him feel sick before, but now he couldn’t help wondering if Youri could feel it. It was downright insane how the tiniest of worries seemed to be overtaking him.

“You’ll confuse her,” Sehun warned. “I think Daiyu is a very pretty name, but I bet she won’t be able to realize she’s got two names until much later.”

Luhan laughed. “She won’t be able to recognize she has one name for a while, Sehun.” Then he was deliberately chatting to Youri in Chinese, enjoying the way Sehun’s face fell into a frown. “Fine,” he said, switching back to Korean. “But remember, we agreed, we want Youri to be equal parts Chinese and Korean. Both cultures are important. Both mean something to me, and now to her.”

The elevator dinged and Sehun took a careful step forward, bracing one hand against the doors so Luhan had more than enough time to exit.

“I stand by that,” Sehun said quickly, sounding fierce and determined. “But how about we stick to one name until she gets what it means to have two different identities? I think she’s going to be confused enough when our friends finally agree on a nickname.”

Luhan shook his head. “I really kind of wish they wouldn’t.” At least not until Youri was older and had more of an established personality.

As they made their way into the West entrance’s lobby, Luhan was eternally grateful that Sehun had been telling the truth about his mother. He was very of the opinion that he wanted to document as much of Youri’s life as possible, but Luhan didn’t think he was looking his best at the moment.

Sehun claimed that he was as attractive as ever. And though Sehun had been exceptionally careful when touching him the past few days, he’d certainly done his fair share of touching. Luhan had had his ass grabbed more than once by a playful Sehun who didn’t appear to notice at all that Luhan was still carrying around the weight he’d gained from the pregnancy.

Eunji had been clear, when Luhan had asked her a day earlier, that the baby weight would come off naturally as time passed and he did a little extra exercise. That was reassuring, but the reality was that due to his surgery, he couldn’t begin exercising for a while. It was all a little depressing to think about.

“See,” Sehun said, as if he was reading Luhan’s mind. “My mom is busy breaking facebook right now with all the pictures and video she snapped of Youri, but she’s not here. I kind of did more than ask her not to be here. I made it the only option.”

Luhan asked surprised, “I wasn’t really sure what to expect. Your mom is a very headstrong woman.”

“Yeah,” Sehun said, like it was a natural thing. “You’re not feeling great, and I know the both of us are terrified of getting in a car with our newborn. The last thing we need is my mom here, hovering around. I love her, but this is our moment. This is us.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like this,” Luhan commented, sneaking a glance at Youri to make sure she was still happily watching the things around her which must have still been giant blurs. “You’re incredibly attractive when you do.”

Sehun beamed. “Careful. We just got done making a baby. I wouldn’t want to get you pregnant so quickly again.”

Luhan rolled his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind there would be more children in the future. Carrying and delivering Youri had been a nerve wracking thing, but more overwhelming was the urge to have even more bright eyed, miniature people in the world who were the perfect combination of Luhan and the man Luhan loved.

But sex was off the table for four to six weeks while he healed. At the very least.

Luhan also had a sinking suspicion that even when he was cleared for sex, and very much wanted to have it with Sehun, they’d both be too tired dealing with Youri, to get to it. More kids were definitely a long way out.

“Keep dreaming, Casanova,” Luhan chuckled out.

Sehun took them to the closest waiting room and put Youri in her car seat neatly down on one of the chairs. He bent to kiss Luhan and said a little breathlessly, “You two hang out here, okay? I’m going to bring the car to the front and then you can laugh at me if I can’t get the carseat in on the first try.”

“I doubt that’s going to happen,” Luhan called after him. He had it on good authority that a day previous Sehun had practiced putting the carseat in, and taking it out, no less than a dozen times.

“Be right back,” Sehun promised, then kissed Youri gently, and Luhan one more time for good measure. “Don’t move.”

“Your daddy,” Luhan sighed out, looking down at Youri.

He’d been staring at her for three days straight now, and it was still difficult to not be completely distracted by how beautiful she was. It was jarring, in all actuality. And a little scary to think how much more beautiful she’d be once she was older.

Luhan gave a low laugh as he imagined Sehun chasing suitors from their property.

Youri made a grunting sound of sorts and Luhan nodded to her. “Your daddy is something else. And a little weird, no doubt. But I love him very much, and I think you will too. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m back,” Sehun announced in what felt like a second later. Luhan since then had lowered himself slowly to the chair next to Youri, and was marveling at how well she was grasping his finger. Her grip was stronger every day, and practically every minute.

As expected, Sehun performed marvelously with getting the carseat securely in the car, and with Luhan seated in the back next to Youri, Sehun slid into the driver’s seat and eased off the brake.

“I’ll drive slow,” Sehun said, looking a little pale as he met Luhan’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’ll drive safe.”

With the baby blanket Sehun’s mother had brought for Youri draped over her, Luhan put his hand on the warmth of her body and said, “I know you will.”

They were home half an hour later, perfectly safe, and with a sleeping baby on their hands.

Luhan accepted Sehun’s help in getting out of the car and then stood by patiently as Sehun lifted the carseat out.

“Stairs,” Luhan breathed out, looking up at the alley that led up to his apartment on the third floor. “I didn’t stop to think about the stairs.”

Sehun pecked him on the side of the head and asked, “Do you want me to carry you up?”

Luhan half considered it.

“No,” he said finally, and then started the long trek up.

At the ten minute mark he made Sehun go ahead with Youri, desperate to get her out of the cold, and then he inched his way up one step at a time, telling himself over and over again that he only needed to manage the stairs one time. He wasn’t planning on leaving his apartment for a while again, and at least not until he was a lot more healed up.

Sehun was back to his side before he’d even reached the second landing. And then, despite Luhan’s assurances that he didn’t need to be carried, he was lifted the entire way to the third floor.

“You put her in the nursery?” Luhan asked when he was in his apartment, the door was closed behind him, and he could feel the heater going strongly. He unwrapped the scarf that had been around his neck and toed off his shoes.

“She didn’t even wake up when I put her in there,” Sehun assured, reaching out to help Luhan take his coat off. “You want to see to be sure?”

“Does that make me paranoid?” Luhan asked.

Sehun held his hand tightly and said, “Not at all. I’m pretty sure I’m going to sit in the corner of the nursery tonight and just watch her sleep. That’s way more creepy.”

In the nursery Luhan curled his fingers around the railing on the crib and peered down at his daughter who was doing her best to look like an angel. Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths of air and she looked serenely at peace as she slept.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Sehun, Luhan couldn’t bring himself to care in the least that there were tears in his eyes.

Sehun’s hand came down on top of Luhan’s and he said quietly, “Welcome home, Youri.”

“Welcome home,” Luhan echoed.

Chapter Text

The baby monitor was on Luhan’s side of the bed. It sat, at least during the day when either Luhan or Sehun weren’t carrying it around almost religiously, on the end table that was now cluttered with as much of Youri’s things as Luhan’s.

But when Youri’s cry came through it, crisp and loud and very demanding, it sounded as if Youri herself were right next to Sehun.

He’d argued for that, actually.

For the first night they had Youri home, both he and Luhan had been in utter agreement that they weren’t willing to let her out of their sight for more than a few seconds. She’d napped during the day in her crib, sleeping on and off like she would for the first few months, but at night Sehun had dragged her bassinet to the side of their bed and she’d sleep feet from them.

Sehun had found it comforting in a way, to be able to lay in the silence of the bedroom and hear Luhan breathing next to him, and Youri doing the same. And it had made those first midnight feedings easier to handle as well, with Sehun able to roll from the bed in seconds and have her in his arms.

But Luhan had said no, surprisingly, to it becoming a regular thing.

He’d told Sehun firmly, “Eunji said that there’s nothing wrong with Youri. She’s as healthy as a newborn can get. So there’s no reason for her to sleep next to us when she has a perfectly good nursery.”

Sehun had shot back right away, “It’s for peace of mind, Luhan. That’s a good reason.”

Luhan hadn’t budged. Apparently Eunji had filled his head with nonsense about babies doing better when they acclimated sooner to their nurseries and learned independence. It was definitely a Western kind of idea—a throwback from all the time Eunju had spent studying abroad in America, because Sehun knew couples in Korea who slept in the same room with their kids all the way up until said children were hitting puberty.

But Luhan was hard to budge when he was determined, and Sehun wasn’t willing to start arguing with him so soon.

So Sehun had been forced to live with a baby monitor as proof of Youri’s continued presence when they went to bed. The only saving grace was that the baby monitor, a present from Suho weeks earlier, was high tech and fitted with a view screen that let Sehun see what was happening in the nursery via the camera he’d rigged up earlier that day.

Luhan, exhausted from his recent surgery and caring for Youri, dropped off easy at night. But Sehun could lay there for hours, watching the monitor, watching Youri just breathe ad sleep.

“Mmmh,” Luhan groaned out when Youri’s cries only continued to grow in ferocity.

Sehun cracked his eyes and leaned over Luhan to peer at the monitor. Youri was most certainly awake, wriggling a bit as she cried, probably hungry. A quicker glance to the clock across the room showed that it had been a little over three hours since Youri’s last feeding. That was a record of sorts, because Youri had a voracious appetite and could eat every hour and a half to two.

“Youri?” Luhan asked, starting to come awake a little more.

Sehun pressed a kiss to Luhan’s forehead and said with a rough voice, “I’ve got her.”

He’d put his feet down on the carpet and was reaching for his nearby robe when Luhan said, “No, that’s not fair. You got her the past three times.” He groaned in pain as he sat up. “It’s my turn.”

“Luhan.” Sehun guided him back gently to a lying position. “I have this, okay? You go back to bed.” Sehun could see so easily how desperate Luhan was to be an active father, even if Youri was far from being ready to crawl around and get into things. Luhan seemed frustrated by his inability to lift things, move quickly, or even be free of pain. And in return Sehun felt overly protective of Luhan’s health like he had when Luhan had been pregnant.

Getting out of bed and trekking to the nursery would cause Luhan all kinds of physical irritation. To avoid that, Sehun was more than willing to take as many late night/early morning feedings as possible. All of them, actually.

“Are you sure?” Luhan asked, sounding as if he were already half asleep.

“I’m sure,” Sehun chuckled out, then he stood, got his balance, and made his way quickly to Youri

She was still crying in earnest when Sehun reached her, flipping on the baby friendly lights to the nursery. A soft glow lit up the room and Sehun peered over the edge of the crib.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Her face scrunched up as she ignored him, continuing to cry.

“I know,” Sehun sighed out, then reached down to carefully lift her. “I know you’re hungry. Let’s get you fed.”

As of right now, he felt great. Plenty of people had warned Sehun that the sleepless nights and endless crying would start to take its toll before too long. But at the moment, Sehun felt invincible. It was the adrenaline. It was the rush of being a father finally. It was all the love he felt for Youri fueling him.

Tucking her against his shoulder, Sehun walled the hallway down to the kitchen, trying not to jostle her as he navigated the dark.

“Hang on a second,” he said, and was forced to put her down for just a second while he warmed up her bottle. He made sure she was on her newborn baby cushion near him, and set to work as quickly as he could, doing everything in the order he’d been taught, from bringing the milk to the right temperature and then testing it on the most sensitive part of his wrist.

“Don’t mug me,” Sehun told her fondly as she sniffled. Youri’s eyes tracked him as he moved closer to her. At her age Sehun knew she couldn’t see him from more than a few feet away, and probably as nothing more than a big blob of skin and hair, but he was desperate to have her recognize him and associate him with love and care. Or maybe just food. If she only knew him as the food bringer, he’d be happy.

It took a little maneuvering, but eventually Sehun was able to get settled into the nearby living room with Youri in the crook of his arm. She took the bottle immediately, giving it strong, healthy sucks, and proceeded to alleviate any of Sehun’s fears that she’d reject the formula.

“There,” he said softly to her, rocking a bit as she fed. “You never have to fear. I’m always going to be here for you.”

She was so beautiful and precious and real.

Real.

She was real and not a dream.

That was what Sehun found the most difficult to accept. Each night now he went to bed terrified that he’d wake in the morning and be completely alone. Or worse, that something had gone wrong with Youri’s delivery and she was gone.

It was something he expected would fade with time, but regardless, he planned to speak with his therapist about the unhealthy thoughts, and how to deal with them in the best way.

“You ready to go back to bed?” Sehun asked as he watched Youri’s eyes blink lethargically as the bottle drained. While she was absolutely adorable now, looking more and more gorgeous with each passing day, Sehun was more looking forward to the days when her personality emerged, and she was fun to play with.

But damn if she didn’t look like Luhan in the clear light of the living room. Luhan was always going on about how she had Sehun’s eyes, and Sehun could see that without much strain. Her eyes were mirrors of his own. But everything else seemed all Luhan, and in a beautiful way. She was going to be gorgeous, just like him.

After her bottle was mostly finished, and Youri’s eyes closed completely, Sehun put her against his shoulder and tapped her back as firmly as he could bring himself to manage. It was a little difficult to keep his touch as light as a newborn required but strong enough to get the burps out, and also support her head and neck appropriately, but he was getting better every time he did it. He’d be an ace in no time, he was convinced.

It was simple to deposit her back into her crib once the feeding and burping was done, double check her diaper to make sure it was still dry, and then turn the light off so only the blue glow of the nightlight was visible in the room.

“Have sweet dreams, Youri,” Sehun whispered to her. Babies didn’t dream, not at only a few days old, but it was the sentiment that counted. “Cry if you need me. You know I’ll come running. I love you.” Sehun chuckled to himself and then left the nursery, making the quick journey back to the bed where Luhan was sleeping.

At least he’d thought Luhan was asleep when he climbed back into bed. Luhan had been still and breathing evenly.

But the second Sehun had settled down, forcing himself not to look over Luhan to see the monitor, or to steal it to his side of the bed, Luhan rolled slowly towards him.

He asked, “Everything okay?”

Sehun put an arm around Luhan and held him close, sharing his warmth. “Of course. Youri was just hungry. Her diaper wasn’t wet and she didn’t want any attention. She’s already back asleep.”

Luhan breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good.” Then a second later, he added, “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Sehun laughed quietly. “I’ve been telling you this forever.”

“No.” Luhan’s chin rested against Sehun’s chest, and then his head tipped so that Sehun was sure Luhan was listening to his heart. “You’re the best father.”

Sehun’s fingers rested at Luhan’s nape and he closed his eyes, trying to fall back asleep as quickly as possible. “Because I fed my daughter?”

Luhan’s lips were dry but welcomed when they pressed against Sehun’s skin. “This apartment is too small for sound not to carry. Also, there’s a microphone in the camera in the nursery.”

“Oh,” Sehun eased out.

Luhan sagged more fully against him. “I hope you give yourself credit for how good of a father you are.”

Sehun wasn’t sure how to reply to that, and it was pointless by the time he had worked something out. Luhan slept quietly against him, the apartment quiet again, and Sehun tried to follow after.

The next time Sehun woke there was sun creeping through the tightly closed blinds in the bedroom. And next to him, the bed was empty.

“Luhan?” Sehun cried out right away. How had Sehun not heard him get up?

He reached quickly for the baby monitor and breathed easy when he saw Youri still in her crib, sleeping. That was one less worry.

“Luhan?” Sehun called out this time much quieter, not wanting to wake Youri. He made sure he was absolutely silent as he passed by the nursery, but called for Luhan once more when he was past it.

“I’m here,” Luhan’s voice sounded from the living room, and when Sehun came upon him it was to veritable storm of wrapping paper, bows, tissue paper and tape.

“What the …” Sehun’s eyes went wide. “Luhan?”

In the center of it all was Luhan, sitting on the carpeted floor with fully wrapped presents now on all sides of him. “Hi, Sehun. Merry Christmas.”

“Oh.” It was Christmas. It had completely slipped Sehun’s mind, between Luhan going into labor, Youri being born, and the few days afterwards that were dedicated to recovery. “Merry Christmas. Luhan, why are you on the floor wrapping presents?”

Luhan put a proud hand on the box nearest him. “I had some wrapping left to do and never got around to it before now. But I woke up a couple of hours ago, gave Youri a diaper change, and decided to get it done.”

In the corner of the living room was a small Christmas tree. It was half the size of the one Sehun had in his own home, and had been put up hastily, but it was still pretty and did the job. It had a couple of smaller presents underneath it, but the bigger stuff was scattered around Luhan at the moment.

“Most of these are Youri’s,” Luhan said with a large grin. “I told people that she’s only a few days old. She doesn’t need a bunch of Christmas presents, but we got all of this for her anyway.”

Sehun stepped carefully over a cluster of presents and said, “You should have woken me. I would have helped you wrap.”

Luhan set to work gathering up all the leftover scraps of paper and pointed out, “You’re the one who was getting up all night long with Youri. You deserved to get a bit of extra sleep. But also, I did try to wake you.”

“You did?”

Luhan nodded. “You called me a cheeseburger, and said something about going to work. I left you alone after that.”

Sehun laughed and bent down for a kiss, then settled himself into the one open spot on the sofa. “Want to wake our daughter up, pretend like she has a clue what’s going on, video tape it all, and then end up opening all those presents you just warped ourselves?”

“Actually,” Luhan said, thumbing towards the Christmas tree. “I think we should open the presents we got for each other before Youri wakes up and demands to be the most important person in our life.”

“Rightly so,” Sehun teased.

Luhan nodded. “Of course.”

Sehun reached a strong hand down for Luhan and lifted him easily to his feet. “How about I go grab the baby monitor, just in case, and you grab our presents?”

Luhan gave him a salute, ambling his way over to the Christmas tree as Sehun took off for the bedroom.

It wasn’t the monitor Sehun was actually going for. Instead he was diving for the bag he had in Luhan’s closet, the only one he hadn’t unpacked since coming to stay with Luhan after his release from the hospital. All of his clothing were now hanging next to Luhan’s in the closet, and his shoes were mixed in with Luhan’s near the front door. But the bag had things of a more delicate nature in it, and the Christmas present he’d struggled almost endlessly over giving Luhan.

“You know,” Luhna said when Sehun came back into the living room. “I think we get a free pass this year. In a way, we gave each other a new baby, and that’s huge.”

Sehun gave him a smile at Youri’s mention. “No complaints here. But I still got you a few things.”

He’d been stressing so heavily over what to get for Luhan, he’d thought for a short second that he’d never find anything he wanted to give him. But then the moment he’d stopped trying so hard, and started letting things come more naturally, he’d found a wide range of things he thought would suit Luhan. And he was proud of the things he’d selected.

“Sehun?”

Sehun noticed the living room was a little better off now than it had been, but that wasn’t a comfort to Sehun. The last thing he wanted was Luhan bending over and picking things up. It was quite possible he was driving Luhan crazy with his hovering, but until Eunji gave him the all clear to lift something as heavy as Youri, who wasn’t very heavy at all, Sehun was going to worry.

And at the back of Sehun’s mind was the terrible fear that Luhan could develop any number of post surgery complications. And the danger of Luhan’s surgical wound developing an infection was possible as well. It wasn’t something Sehun liked to dwell on, or rather tried not to, but it was a fear there all the same. And maybe once or twice a night he’d press the back of his hand to Luhan’s forehead while he was sleeping and check for a fever.

Sehun couldn’t wait for the paranoia to pass.

“Sorry,” Sehun said with a laugh. “I was in my own world there for a second.”

Luhan arched an eyebrow. “Where’s the monitor?”

In Sehun’s pocket was the present he’d debated over for weeks. But he’d forgotten the monitor he’d used as an excuse to get the present.

“Sehun,” Luhan said, shaking his head. But he let it all pass miraculously, and instead patted the spot next to him on the cleared sofa.

For the most part, the next few minutes revealed that they’d had the same idea in terms of presents, picking up tiny trinkets for each other that didn’t amount of much of a monetary value, but were heartfelt and sincere.

“You actually listened when I said I needed this,” Luhan said, pleased immensely when he revealed the new sketchpad that Luhan had made mention of a while ago. With him unable to do much heavy painting, he’d been sketching a lot more, but he’d run out of the special type of paper he liked to use, and hadn’t had time to buy.

“I always listen,” Sehun defended, then gave an appreciative thank you to Luhan when he unwrapped a fancy looking digital clock that could sit on his desk at work and would tell him exactly what time it was in New York in relation to Seoul. “Luhan, this is perfect.”

With a sad smile, Luhan said, “I know Chen is your best friend, but Suho’s your brother. He means a lot to you and I know his going to America is a good thing for him and his future, but a tough thing for your relationship with him. But now you’ll know what time it is in America where he is, and if you’re ever working late at the office, you can call him up and not be worried that you’ll get him when he’s in bed.”

Between the two of them there were half a dozen smaller presents, small tokens and charms that both Sehun and Luhan seemed to enjoy.

But for as much as Sehun enjoyed the presents Luhan had gotten him, Sehun enjoyed the look of joy on Luhan’s face as he unwrapped his gifts more.

All their future Christmases would be like this, Sehun thought fondly. Maybe they’d be a little louder with Youri tearing into her presents, but it would still come down to him and Luhan and the representation of the love they had for each other.

With one present for each other left, Luhan said, “Xiumin and I used to buy presents for each other every Christmas, and we had fun opening them. It was an easy thing, sharing a holiday like Christmas with my best friend. But this feels different. Don’t tell Xiumin, but it feels better.”

Sehun stretched an arm out across the back of the sofa, his fingers just brushing Luhan’s nearest shoulder. “I spent a lot of Christmases with Jae, Luhan. And I loved him with all my heart. But this feels different to. Maybe it should. Maybe it’s supposed to.”

Luhan tipped towards him and Sehun held him in perfect silence.

“This,” Sehun said eventually, handing Luhan the last present that had been under the tree, “is more like a gift for all of us. It’s a family gift. And I think it should be a tradition.”

“I like it,” Luhan said approvingly as he worked at the bow on the top. “Family traditions are a good thing to have.”

It was worth following his gut and waiting until almost the last second to buy the present for Luhan, which he’d found at a tiny little craft store tucked away down a side street outside of Seoul.

“They’re …”

“Ornaments,” Sehun supplied for Luhan, but he could tell that Luhan liked them. “Turtle doves.”

Luhan held the two white bird replicas in his fingers with reverence. “They’re so beautiful.” His face was lit up with pleasure as he discovered a third, tiny baby turtle dove still in the box.

Easily, Sehun said, “Suho gave me the idea, but me seeing these at a store is more like a fluke, or maybe an act of god. Because in biblical terms, turtle doves are supposed to represent the kind of love that’s steeped in devotion and purity. That’s the kind of love I feel for you. Love that gets battered around a little, and put through the ringer because we’re still learning, but love that endures because of how strong it is. Finding a baby turtledove to represent Youri wasn’t easy, but I was determined.”

Luhan set the ornaments down in the box and leaned over for a deep kiss from Sehun. “They’re beautiful. And next year we’ll pick out a new set of ornaments, right? We’ll do it every year.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Sehun said. He wanted to be a hundred years old one day, sitting next to Luhan on Christmas with their grandchildren and great grandchildren surrounding them, Christmas tree in sight. And he wanted to be able to see all the ornaments they’d bought over the years. He wanted that so badly.

“My turn,” Luhan said, and then handed Sehun something square and blocky. Sehun could feel a frame underneath the wrapping that meant it was a painting of some sort.

“Luhan,” he said, trying not to sound too much like anyone’s father. “You know you’re not supposed to--”

Luhan gave him a gently kick with his foot. “Stop making assumptions and open it.”

It reminded Sehun momentarily of the painting of Luhan’s that he’d destroyed in a fit of rage after assuming too much too quick. Sehun had hidden all the evidence away as if that could make it better, but he’d have to admit to it quickly. Luhan was bound to ask about the painting and where it had gotten off to.

“I can’t paint,” Luhan said as Sehun tore off the paper. “Not for a few more weeks, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do this.”

Sehun let out a slow release of air. “You’re so … Luhan …”

Luhan had told Sehun once that he’d wanted to be a manga artist, and had spent a good deal of his childhood sketching out things before truly falling in love with painting. Sehun had taken that to mean that Luhan was decent with a pad and pencil, and Sehun had seen some of the stuff that Luhan had produced for Kai’s studio renovation.

But this?’

“When did you …”

Looking bashful, Luhan said, “D.O. did me the favor, actually. And I don’t think he even knew he was doing it for me.”

It was a sketch of Sehun and his friends. It was more than a sketch. It was a perfect rendering of a moment in time where Sehun had been surrounded by people he truly loved, laughing and talking and living. Luhan’s eye for detail was spectacular, and as Sehun’s fingers traced the figures in the sketch across the protective glass covering, everyone looked so lifelike. “This is so damn amazing.”

“D.O. snapped that picture with his phone on the last night all of you were together before he had to leave and go back to Europe. He sent the picture to me because he thought I might like it. He said he thought I’d enjoy how you looked in the picture. He was right. So I sketched it. I know it’s not the most traditional present ever, but I really--”

Sehun’s mouth was kissing a fiery trail of love and passion and determination across Luhan’s neck before he could even finish speaking. “I love it and you’re amazing.” he moved up to Luhan’s mouth and they were kissing more intensely after that. Luhan molded against him, the sofa cushioning their fall back against it, and Sehun felt so filled with affection and love for Luhan that it was making him burn with desire.

“I love you,” Luhan returned, his fingers in Sehun’s hair, carding through the strands as he met every kiss from Sehun easily and returned them with more pressure and need than Sehun had ever felt before from him.

Sehun grinned into at least a half dozen more kisses, then felt brave enough to pull himself off Luhan and take a deep breath.

Luhan, looking properly kissed, said, “I don’t know if I like that look on your face.”

Sitting back on his haunches, Sehun felt the bulge in his pocket. “I have to show you something else I got you.”

“I think you’ve gotten me more than enough,” Luhan commented, sitting up slowly.

Sehun winced a little. “This isn’t exactly a gift. Or it isn’t a gift for right now. I mean …”

“Sehun,” Luhan said gently. “What is it?”

With one more deep breath, Sehun reached into his pocket and pulled out the box.

“Is that …” Luhan trailed off, eyes shinning.

“This,” Sehun said slowly, “is the ring you’re going to wear when I ask you to marry me.” He cracked the box to show Luhan there were two rings inside, one for each of them.

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

Sehun shook his head. It would have been an easy thing to do, and his gut told him Luhan would have said yes. They were terribly in love, and the birth of their daughter had only strengthened that.

But therapy had certainly taught Sehun about thinking things through rationally, and not letting his emotions rule his actions. His love for Luhan wasn’t going anywhere, but there needed to be more stability between them, more openness, and more communication. They weren’t ready for marriage.

“I’m not,” Sehun said, and was impossibly thankful when Luhan didn’t look heartbroken. “I don’t think that would be the best thing for either of us right now.”

“That doesn’t mean we don’t love each other,” Luhan said in a way that meant he agreed with Sehun’s words.

“Of course not,” Sehun said a little huffy. “I love you very much. You are the person I’m going to marry. But right now marriage would be a little more foolhardy than anything else. I think we should wait. I want to wait.”

Head cocked a little, Luhan asked, “So why are you showing this to me?”

Right away, Sehun said, “To prove to you that I’m absolutely serious about this. About us. These are the rings that will symbolize our marriage when it happens. That means I’m not backing out, or getting cold feet, or rethinking anything.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that anyway.”

Sehun pressed on. “I’m showing the rings to you so that you know they exist, so that the proverbial elephant in the room is dealt with and we can work on us, knowing that eventually we’re going to get there.”

Eventually they’d get married. It might be before Youri could walk, or she could end up being their flower girl. Sehun wasn’t sure about which of those the wedding would fall closest to. But the timing didn’t matter so much as it actually happening.

Luhan reached out to take the box from Sehun, face soft in expression as he said, “I can wait to wear this ring some day. I can wait for the perfect moment.”

And like that, Sehun’s nervousness seemed to evaporate.

“Eventually,” he said, “I’m going to have to go back to my house. It’ll just be easier when I go back to work. But I’m letting you know now, when that happens, this box with these rings will go in the top dresser drawer in the master bedroom. They’ll be there safely, for whenever we want to put them on, with no pressure of having them hanging over our heads.”

Luhan pulled a ring from the box and held it up to the light. “This is probably the best Christmas present of all.”

“Me getting you a ring?” Sehun asked.

Luhan shook his head. “The promise that comes with the ring.”

Before Sehun could respond Youri’s first cry cut through the air.

“Our daughter,” Luhan said with a laugh. “And her perfect timing.”

Sehun lifted himself from the sofa. “You laugh now, but what happens the first time she does that when we’re trying to have sex. It won’t be so adorable then.”

The ring went back in the box and Luhan closed it firmly. “Probably not. The jury is still out on that one.”

As expected, opening Youri’s presents was nothing she had even the slightest interest in. Fed, cleaned and played with for a few moments, she was more than happy to sit in her baby seat nearby them while Luhan tore open packaging and Sehun held his phone up.

“Youri,” Sehun said, giving the newborn a pointed look, “you’re too young to realize this, but this is the best day of the year.”

“And,” Luhan said, dabbing her nose playfully with a stuffed animal Sehun’s mother had sent for her, “you’ve really got to learn how to capitalize on this while you can. For the next few years you’re going to be an only child. Milk it for all its worth.”

Sehun’s mouth pressed into a fine line and he tried not to let it show on his face how much joy was coiling in his belly at the thought of more children to share Christmas with.

“This one’s from Uncle Suho,” Sehun told Youri, pushing a big box towards her. “You handle this one by yourself, okay?”

Luhan smothered a laugh behind his hand. “We might be terrible parents.”

“Nah,” Sehun said as Youri merely blinked her dark eyes slowly. “Half the point of having kids is that you get to mess with them.”

Luhan nudged the box closer to an uninterested Youri and told Sehun, “She’ll get back at us eventually.”

“But today is ours,” Sehun chuckled, then carefully placed a bow on top of Youri’s head.

Her face scrunched up quickly and she began to wail.

“Look at that,” Luhan sighed out, lifting his own phone up for a picture. “She already thinks we’re lame.”

“That just cements our status as legitimate parents,” Sehun said.

Luhan reached out a hand for a high five and Sehun met his fingers easily.

After all the presents were unwrapped, Youri falling asleep again around halfway through, Luhan and Sehun stood side by side as they prepared breakfast. They had plans to meet Sehun’s family at his youngest sister’s house which was less than twenty minutes away, for Christmas dinner. But for breakfast they were on their own.

“So Xiumin should be over soon,” Luhan said as he and Sehun ate breakfast in the crowded living room. Cleaning up would be a bother, but for the moment Sehun was happy enough to sit on crumpled wrapping paper and appreciate the situation for what it was.

“Why?” Sehun asked as he frowned.

Luhan rolled his eyes. “Because you and Suho are supposed to be in church in about an hour.”

Oh. Sehun had forgotten that he’d promised Suho he’d go to church with him that morning. It was almost irritating that Luhan had remembered and Sehun hadn’t. He didn’t think his promises meant so little.

“I don’t want to leave the two of you,” Sehun said honestly, his eyes flickering over to Youri. “Not any more than I like the idea of taking her out of the house later tonight.”

“I know,” Luhan said kindly. “But your sisters and your mother have all sworn they’re not sick, and Eunji told me it’s okay to expose Youri to small groups of people. We’ll keep her wrapped up and warm and she’ll probably sleep most of the time. Plus, we have to go. Your mother has been very good at giving us some space to settle Youri in. She deserves to see her granddaughter now.”

“I still don’t want to go to church,” Sehun said. He was more than regretting letting Suho guilt trip him into it.

When breakfast was done Sehun took a long, warm shower, dressed in the one suit he had at Luhan’s, and was just doing up his tie when Suho arrived to pick him up. By then Luhan and Xiumin were already crowded together in the living room, watching something on TV while chatting easily to each other.

“We won’t be long,” Suho said to Luhan as waved Sehun towards the door. “I think if I try to keep Sehun away from Youri for more than a few hours he’ll riot.”

“We’ll have a rumble,” Sehun clarified. Then he bent to kiss the top of Luhan’s head, and blew Youri a sweeter kiss. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll be here,” Luhan said reassuring.

When he and Suho were in the car, Suho said, “It won’t be that bad, Sehun. I already told my parents you’re only going to stay for a couple of hours. Just long enough to pray with them for a little.”

Sehun leaned an elbow up against the car’s windowsill as Seoul passed by in a blur. “I’m sorry I’m being such a jerk about this, Suho. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with your parents. Part of me still considers them family. This is more about me not wanting to leave Luhan alone with Youri. He’d got Xiumin to help him, but my nerves are on edge about it.”

“I know,” Suho said sympathetically. “But it would be okay, you know, if it was about my parents. They’re Jae’s parents. They have to remind you of him, and then, of course, of what happened to him. They know that. It’s why they’ve tried to give you time and space.”

“They’ve always been considerate,” Sehun agreed. While his own friends and family had spent their time pushing him to recover, Jae’s family had been silently supportive of whatever actions he chose to take.

“But you coming today,” Suho said, looking just as pristine as ever in his suit, “means more to them than you’ll ever be able to realize. When you’re feeling bored or out of place, know that you being here today means everything to someone else.”

For the rest of the ride, Sehun reflected on those words.

The first thing Jae’s parents did when they saw him was give him the biggest hug he’d had in forever. They were looking better than the last time Sehun had seen them, at Jae’s funeral. As if time had truly done them all the world of difference.

Jae’s father clutched him tightly as if Sehun were his son by blood, and Jae’s mother murmured in his ear, “We missed you.”

Sehun felt so guilty in that moment. Because Jae’s parents had been family. They’d been the best kind of supportive family, too, always kind and generous and accepting of him. And he’d just cut them out of his life when Jae died, almost like they’d died, and hadn’t given it a second thought. It was cruel of him when he thought of it.

“I’m sorry I stayed away so long,” Sehun said, closing his eyes and just letting himself feel. Jae’s mother smelled almost like Jae did, and she had the same comforting effect on him that he had. Jae’s father looked so much like him, and sounded like him, and it wasn’t the heartbreaking reminder he’d always thought they would serve to be.

“We understand,” Jae’s mother said as she led them all to a pew in the front of the church. The second half of the morning service was scheduled to begin shortly and Sehun was even a little glad now that he’d come.

Sehun admitted to them, “I’ve been selfish.” Suho gave him a supportive look and Sehun felt better saying the words. “I only thought of myself. Not you, which was wrong.”

“Oh, please,” Jae’s mother said, petting the side of his face. “You did what was best for you. You protected yourself until you were strong enough to stand up again. There’s no shame in that.”

Sehun wanted things to go back to how they had been with Jae’s parents. He wanted to visit them freely, share meals with them, and enjoy their company. But there was one thing he had to make sure they were clear about.

“Did … ah …” Sehun tried to find his voice. “Has Suho told you about Luhan?” Because not even for Jae’s parents, and how much he still loved them, would he pretend like Luhan wasn’t the man he was currently in love with.

It was Jae’s father who said surprisingly, “We wanted to offer our congratulations on Youri’s birth, but we weren’t sure if that would be overstepping.”

“You know about her?” Sehun asked with an air of disbelief.

Suho leaned over and said, “My parents didn’t stop considering you their son just because Jae passed away. They’re happy for you.”

Jae’s mother fumbled for her phone for a second, and then she was showing Sehun the picture she had of Suho holding Youri. “She’s very beautiful, Sehun.” It was a picture that had been taken in the hospital, after Youri was only a day or so old.

“But …” Sehun was confounded.

At least until Jae’s mother asked gently, “Did you think we wouldn’t be accepting of Youri?”

Well … yes. That was exactly what Sehun had thought.

Bowing his head a little, Sehun said, “I thought you might be angry.” Angry that Jae and Seoyoung had died, but Youri and Luhan were both healthy and happily alive.

Jae’s father said, “We let go of our anger a long time ago, son. We’re happy for you. We’re happy for the life you’re having now.”

Voice at a whisper, Sehun said, “I hated myself for so long. Because on the day we buried Jae, that’s when Youri was conceived.”

“Then I’m happy,” Jae’s mother said, startling Sehun. “I’m happy that something good came out of something so bad.”

Suho shot Sehun a knowing look as the minister made his way to the front of the room and the rest of the congregation started to file in.

“Ready?” Jae’s mother asked, taking Sehun’s hand firmly.

Sehun gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I’m ready.”

Chapter Text

The first eight weeks after Youri’s birth were both difficult, but also rewarding. To Luhan, who hadn’t envisioned himself as a father until much later in life, there was something revolutionary about being able to see his future in the form of his child. Youri was … immortality, in a word, and beyond precious.

Every day she grew a little bigger, every day she showed more progress, and by the time Sehun’s paternity leave was over, Luhan was more enamored with Youri than even the first time he’d held her in his arms.

Of course he was also sleep deprived, irritable from that lack of sleep, and hadn’t been able to steal more than a couple of private moments with Sehun. His personal life disappeared in a flash, replaced by Youri’s needs, Youri’s wants, and anticipating the both of them.

It was a life changing experience, being a father, and it helped that he had Sehun there to shoulder some of the responsibility.

But eventually there came a moment when Sehun said, “I have to go back to work tomorrow.”

Youri was already asleep in her crib, the sun was setting and dinner was spread out between Sehun and Luhan.

“I was trying to do my best to ignore that fact,” Luhan said, and it was partly true. He’d been dreading Sehun going back to work, not only because it meant he’d be alone with Youri during the day, but also that it would extend to some nights.

Well, that wasn’t exclusively true. Luhan had plenty of offers for help during the day. In the first week alone without Sehun there he was expecting to be bombarded by visitors several times a day. And Sehun’s sisters had been dropping extremely blunt hints that they were more than happy to offer up babysitting duties for their only niece.

And by the next of the next week Luhan had tentative plans to get back to work. It was something he was extremely nervous about. He knew that Youri would be safe enough with Sehun’s mother most days, and Xiumin others, but it seemed the mere idea of being separated form Youri was creating anxiety in him. Even just thinking about it.

He did want to go back to work, though. He wanted to paint and bring the colors in his mind to life on both canvas and the walls of Kai’s studio.

Not to mention Eunji said it was exceptionally important to expose Youri to extended family members who she could bond with.

Sehun prodded his rice with his chopsticks and asked Luhan, “Maybe I could ask for another few days off? Maybe.”

Luhan shook his head. It wouldn’t be good for them if Sehun lost his boss’s favor in any way. “No,” he said, “I’m just … being clingy.”

Eyes narrowing, Sehun said, “We agreed that I’d only go back to work full time if you felt comfortable enough caring for Youri by yourself. That means you’ve got to be able to lift her without any major strain on your incision site.”

At the mention Luhan’s hand went to his lower stomach. He was still a little puffy from his pregnancy, the last baby weight clinging tightly to him. But he’d been relieved by how he’d been losing a steady amount of the weight he’d gained as the weeks passed. Caring for Youri, combined with a lack of sleep had eaten into his appetite, and made losing the weight easier. There was still some to go, but Luhan was satisfied. He’d heard horror stories of baby weight persisting up to a year after the birth.

“Luhan?”

Luhan let his hand fall away. “I’m okay. Really. I’m still a little sore, but that’s normal, and I’ve been able to pick up Youri for several days now without any real pain. I’ll be able to handle her.” He’d been lucky. There hadn’t been any post operation complications. He’d never had a fever, indicating infection, and the incision had never been red, inflamed or overly painful.

After a second Sehun gave a nod and let himself take a bite of his rice. “Okay, but you call me if you need anything. I’ll come home during my lunch break, too.”

Luhan suggested, “How about you just take Youri with you to work? Put something shiny in front of her and she’ll be good until she needs to eat every couple of hours.”

Sehun jabbed his chopstick at Luhan. “You joke, but I’ve had that thought.”

“I bet you have,” Luhan said in a flippant way. But he’d had the same idea himself. If paint fumes weren’t terribly bad for Youri, Luhan had been more than willing to consider the baby sling that he had in Youri’s nursery that he could wear her in for hours while he worked.

With a sigh, Sehun said, “I just wish Suho were here. I’d feel even better if he could check in on your and hover in my place.”

Luhan offered Sehun a comforting smile. Suho had been gone for weeks now, off to America to integrate his company into an American conglomerate. Sehun talked often to Suho on the phone, usually once every couple of days, but Luhan knew it wasn’t the same.

Suho said he was enjoying America, even if the food was his least favorite part. He was working a lot, but his apartment was nice, the weather was better, and he’d gotten to play tourist a couple of times and see interesting things.

Luhan had a couple of photos on his phone already of Suho at the Statue of Liberty, the World Trade Memorial, Madison Square Garden, and a couple more places that Luhan wanted to visit himself.

“He said he’d be back for Chen’s wedding,” Luhan reminded. “That’s only a few months away.”

“True,” Sehun smiled. “And I guess this is just one more thing to get used to. This is what happens to adults. They grow up and grow apart. Chen’s been talking about moving to Taiwan, you know. He got offered a job there. He’d talking it over with Eunji.”

That made Luhan freeze up. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Sehun confirmed. “And Chen said Eunji wants to do some research for a while with a grant she was approved for, so she could work anywhere. And you said Kris is probably going to move back to Canada at the end of the year, right?”

That would only add to the fact that D.O. only managed to visit Korea infrequently, and
Lay had half a year left in Korea. Plus, who knew where Tao would end up after he graduated. Luhan hated that Sehun was all too right about their friends drifting off, even if it was ultimately a good thing.

“I guess,” Luhan said, placing a strip of beef into Sehun’s bowl, “we should just enjoy the moments that we have now.”

Ignoring the meal, Sehun leaned across the table for a brief kiss. “Good advice.”

Luhan tried to keep that in mind for the rest of the night and into the next morning when he was woken by soft fingers pushing through the bangs on his forehead and Sehun whispering in his ear, “I’m heading off to work now.”

Luhan cracked bleary eyes open at the clock next to the bed. It was barely six and the sun was still low in the sky. “Youri?” He meant to ask if he needed to get up and take care of her, but he certainly wasn’t a morning person.

Thankfully Sehun was fluent in his lack of ability to speak in the morning.

“I already checked in on her,” Sehun said, smelling like he was freshly shaven and doused with Luhan’s favorite cologne. “She’s still sleeping, her diaper is dry, and she ate about two hours ago. You might be able to sneak another hour of sleep out of her, two if you’re lucky.”

Luhan curled onto his side, trying to make Sehun less blurry. “You’re going to work.”

Lowly, Sehun laughed. “Yes, Luhan. I’m going to work now.”

Dry lips pressed against Luhan’s cheek and he sighed happily. “Okay.”

Sehun laughed again. “I’ll see you during my lunch break.”

“Work hard,” Luhan said, giving up on waking up properly and burrowing deeper back into his blankets.

He heard Sehun said, “The baby monitor is right next to you. You’ll hear Youri when she cries. I love you.”

Sehun might have said more, but Luhan was asleep by then.

He did wake an hour and a half later when Youri cried. And unlike his attempt to deal as little with Sehun’s gentle wakeup as possible, his body was already conditioned to respond to Youri with ferocity. Seconds after her first call he was sitting up, pushing away the blanket that had kept the warmth in, and making his way to the nursery.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Luhan said, wiping away the sleepiness and trying to keep a grin on his face for Youri. He lifted her from her crib and shuffled towards the kitchen where her bottle was waiting.

When she was settled into the crook of his arm, sucking away at her bottle, Luhan told her, “I know, you’d much prefer your daddy to do this. He’s the morning person.” Luhan was more than happy to be up late with Youri, changing her atomic waste diapers and providing her appropriate stimulus until she fell asleep. But Sehun was most certainly the morning parent. Most mornings Sehun got up and fed Youri before Luhan was even aware of the world around him.

“Your daddy had to go back to work starting today,” Luhan said, carefully watching the bottle for any air bubbles that would create indigestion for her. “Trust me, you want that as little as I do, but he has to. He’d got to make money to start saving for all those shoes you’re going to want him to buy you.”

Youri gave a grunt as she continued to feed. It was perfectly normal, but it made Luhan pause.

“Or,” he said upon further reflection, “he’s got to start saving up for that ultra-expensive telescope you’re going to ask for so you can study the universe around you and become the most brilliant astrophysicist ever.” Luhan leaned closer to her and whispered, “Whichever you prefer.”

Luhan had imagined that the first couple of days alone with Youri would be lonely. He’d gotten more than a little used to hearing the constant chatter from Sehun. Constant companionship was something he’d taken for granted, even when he and Sehun disagreed on something and didn’t speak for hours.

But as expected there were plenty of other people to keep his spirits high in the first couple of days.

On Monday and Tuesday Lay, freshly arrived back in town, spent most of his time with Luhan, accompanied by Xiumin. Wednesday Luhan was happy to have Chen for company, Thursday all three of Sehun’s sisters showed up, and Friday saw the appearance of Chanyeol, Xiumin again, Kris and Tao all in the span of eight hours.

And after a full weekend together with Sehun, the three of them reunited as a family, Luhan was better prepared for what the immediate future would bring for a substantial amount of time.

With Luhan set to leave Youri with Sehun’s mother on Tuesday and go to work with Kai for the first time in months, Luhan was pretty much expecting the day before that, Monday, to go the same as the mass of people that had appeared on Friday.

Instead, already grumpy from the fact that Sehun hadn’t spent the night and Luhan had been up the whole night with Youri by himself, he opened the door at just after nine to see Baekhyun standing on his doormat.

“No,” Luhan said, fighting past the headache thumping in his head, to remain a decent human being.

Baekhyun crossed his arms. “Is that the most gracious way to thank the person who was willing to let you die? I think not?

“Baekhyun,” Luhan groaned out. “Youri was fussy the whole night and sniffling and I’m paranoid right now she’s getting a cold. That, in turn, is making me think that I’ve exposed her to too many people or that someone I trust lied about having a cold themselves. I got about forty minutes of sleep total last night, I have a headache, Sehun’s so far behind in his work that I can’t drop this on him until he gets caught up, and no offense, but I really don’t want to deal with your shit right now.”

There went his attempt to be a decent human being.

Youri’s cry sounded behind Luhan and he winced. He’d thought for sure that she was going down for a rest after hours and hours of angry fussing. He’d clearly been wrong.

“Firstly,” Baekhyun said, breezing past Luhan without being given permission to enter the apartment, “none of us would get within a mile of Youri if we had a cold, so you can shut up about that right now.”

Luhan ran a hand over his face. “Fine. But I can’t handle--”

“Secondly,” Baekhyun said, “you look like shit.”

Baekhyun headed straight to the kitchen where he washed his hands thoroughly, making sure to scrub soap between his fingers and up to his forearms.

“Thanks,” Luhan said in an irritated way. “I appreciate that.”

Baekhyun dried his hands on a nearby towel, then Luhan was trailing after him as he walked quickly to the bedroom.

“The less asshole way to say that,” Baekhyun said, lifting Youri like she was spun of crystal and infinitely fragile, “would be that you look like you need a power nap.” Baekhyun reached for a nearby stuffed animal and shook it slightly in front of Youri, rocking a little as he paced the length of the room.

Against the odds, Youri began to settle, and Luhan leaned back against the nearby wall with exhaustion.

“I kind of want to talk to you about something,” Baekhyun said, swaying. “So I propose a trade, having seen your current predicament. You got get an hour power nap, I’ll keep this kid entertained, and then afterwards we can talk. Deal?”

“No deal,” Luhan said right away, no matter how impressed he was at Baekhyun’s baby handling skills. He’d always been there when his friends and Sehun’s held Youri, fed her, or just played with her. He’d left the room a few times, but always come back quickly. He wasn’t about to leave Baekhyun on his own for an hour, no matter how badly Luhan wanted the sleep.

Baekhyun snorted, “I’m not exactly going to make off with her in the night.”

Luhan gave him a cynical look. “No doubt because you realize you wouldn’t get five minutes away before the hand of god would come down on you.”

Stilling for a moment, at least until Youri began to fuss again, then Baekhyun was moving once more, he said, “Luhan, I’m about to become a father myself in about a week. I’ve taken all the classes, I’ve got my baby CPR certificate, I know all the right ways to hold a baby, feed a baby, and even swaddle a baby. I’ve even logged hours with other babies, to get ready for my own. So you’re crazy if you think I can’t handle taking care of Youri for an hour while you get some sleep so you don’t accidentally drop her when you’re so deprived you misjudge the grip you have on her.”

As angry as Baekhyun made him feel, and as insulting as he could be, the past few nights being the only one getting up to take care of Youri every few hours, and dealing with the strain it caused, was eating away at his sanity, among other things.

“Luhan,” Baekhyun said, and he gestured down to Youri with his chin. “I can take care of her for an hour. She’s safe with me, now go get some rest. I’m going to take her into the living room, tire her out, and then when you wake up from your nap, she’ll want to go down for hers.”

Baekhyun was an asshole most of the time, one that Luhan preferred to enjoy in small increments, but he had proven himself before in the past. And at the very least, he was Sehun’s trusted friend. Luhan knew for sure he’d taken those baby classes he professed to, and was trustworthy.

And god did Luhan need sleep.

He hadn’t realized until Sehun had gone back to his own house, needing to spent all his free time catching up on work, how much Sehun was actually helping. Luhan had been under the assumption that they were splitting their responsibility to take care of Youri fifty-fifty. It was looking less and less like that now.

“Fine,” Luhan said eventually, unable to deny that Youri was settled in Baekhyun’s arms, not crying any longer, and was at least mildly entertained. “But I’m only taking an hour nap. That’s it.”

“Fine,” Baekhyun cut back. “I’ll just take Youri and we’ll go watch a drama.” Then, nose turned up, Baekhyun breezed past Luhan on his way to the living room.

Luhan shook his head slowly in uncertainty.

Then he made a beeline to his bed, collapsed on it, and slept for two hours, not one.

In fact he probably would have slept for longer, absolutely exhausted, but he heard Sehun’s voice clearly demand, “My god, Baekhyun, do it again! That’s awesome.”

Baekhyun said something in response, but Luhan was trying to figure out why he could hear Sehun in the first place as he rolled from the bed and stumbled to his feet ungracefully.

Sehun, he discovered seconds later, wasn’t actually in the apartment. Instead Baekhyun had his phone out and was holding it up so Sehun could see Youri properly.

“She’s pretty advanced for her age,” Baekhyun said, turning the phone back on himself for just a second so Luhan could see that they were sharing a skype call.

Their focus quickly became Luhan’s as he realized why they were marveling. No longer a newborn, at two and a half months Youri was more than capable of making out the shapes above her, and Baekhyun had set her on a soft blanket on the floor, and placed a low hanging mobile over her. From it were all sorts of dangling shapes and colors, and Youri was just able to reach for them, her tiny fingers swatting at the items of interest.

And cooing. Luhan could hear Youri cooing for the first time. Mostly she just grunted and make short noises of irritation. Cooing was … enough to make Luhan’s knees feel weak with affection.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Luhan asked coming up behind Baekhyun. He gave Sehun a wink across the phone and then leaned over so he could inspect Youri. “I see you are capable of not messing things up,” Luhan told Baekhyun. “Impressive.”

Sehun laughed audibly and said, “Luhan, I’m going to have to work through my lunch today, but I’ll come home to you tonight. Okay?”

Luhan ignored the way that Baekhyun made an exaggerated gagging sound. “Sounds good. I’ll see you tonight.”

“You’ve gotten your hourly baby dose, Sehun,” Baekhyun said when he turned the phone away from Luhan. “I’ll text you later or something.”

As Baekhyun ended the call, Luhan knelt over Youri and dropped a sloppy kiss to her mouth. “There’s my girl,” he said, immediately feeling better that she was in his line of sight again. “And you look like you’re still in one piece. Good.”

“I said,” Baekhyun told him, “that’s I’m more than capable of taking care of a baby.”

Most of the advice books and blogs that Luhan had read, and he’d read a lot, said that at close to three months Youri was just starting to recognize faces. It was possible that she was recognizing him as her parent. Luhan really hoped so.

“So,” Baekhyun said from behind him. “Can we talk now?”

Luhan hefted Youri up and slid a finger into her diaper. It was thankfully dry. Eyes narrowing, he asked, “Did you change her?” There was no way her diaper had been dry for over three hours.

“Just for practice,” Baekhyun said, like it wasn’t a big deal he’d handled someone else’s kid’s dirty diaper. “And yes, I used baby wipes, baby powder, and made sure the diaper was secure before dressing her back in that atrocious romper.”

Luhan arched an eyebrow as he tucked an arm around Youri. “Sehun’s sister bought Youri this onesie. It’s not terrible, and you’re not exactly a fashionista.”

“Anyway,” Baekhyun brushed off, “she’s changed and happy. I wasn’t sure about your feeding schedule, so you might be due for one soon.”

Feeling indebted, Luhan said, “You did a good job, Baekhyun. Thank you.”

Indifferently, Baekhyun brushed off, “She’s a good kid. Must get it from Sehun. Certainly not you.”

The words were cutting, but there was the barest hint of a smile on Baekhyun’s face.

Luhan made sure to elbow Baekhyun in the side as he headed to the kitchen for a bottle. “What did you want to talk about?”

Baekhyun trailed after him. “I want to talk about … babies. And stuff.”

“And stuff?” Luhan teased. “Could you be a little less vague, please.”

Baekhyun leaned an elbow up onto a countertop as Luhan popped open the refrigerator for one of the prepared bottles. “I have some questions about how you felt before Youri was born.”

Luhan paused. “You’re not pregnant, Baekhyun. Taeyeon is. Right? Or do you need to share something?”

“Right,” Baekhyun said rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “I know that, Captain Obvious. But lately, these last few weeks, I’ve been feeling …”

The apprehension was all over Baekhyun’s face.

“All new parents feel anxious about the baby before it comes,” Luhan said, setting the bottle to be warmed. “That’s normal. You should worry if that anxiety goes away suddenly. And it won’t after the birth, either. Let me make that clear. You’ll just be more anxious after the baby is born. I’ve been told this fear lasts until your child is well into their adult years, or maybe never goes away at all. So yay for that.”

Baekhyun’s hand came down heavily on the countertop. It wasn’t a slam, and neither Luhan nor Youri were startled, but there was desperation nearly vibrating from Baekhyun.

“It’s not anxiety,” he insisted.

Luhan asked, “Then what is it?”

Baekhyun winced. “It’s …”

After a lengthy pause, Luhan suggested, “Maybe you should talk to Sehun instead? He is your friend, and he might be more able to relate to you than I do. I had, and still have, a whole bunch of hormones pumping through my body. I’m not the more rational person on this subject right now.”

Without preamble, Baekhyun said, “Taeyeon wants me to be involved. She wants me to feel her stomach and talk to our baby and be father of the year, but I look at her and I’m so scared of that baby that my skin starts to itch. It itches like I’ve gotten poison ivy. And then I start thinking about what a horrible father I’m going to be, and how I don’t know what I’m doing, and how I’m going to ruin everything. That’s not normal, Luhan. All new fathers have worries. I have obsessions.”

Luhan handed Youri over to Baekhyun who held her confidently.

“See that?”

Baekhyun frowned. “What?”

“That.” Luhan nodded to Youri. “See how easy that was for you?”

“Youri’s not my kid,” Baekhyun said in a less than patient way. “I don’t have the same freak outs over her as I do about my daughter.”

Luhan’s eyebrows shot up. “Daughter?”

Baekyhun groaned. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? Taeyeon and I kind of found out by accident. We want it to be a surprise to most of our friends.”

A daughter. Baekhyun was going to have a daughter. Luhan was certain that was the world righting itself and balancing things out.

“A daughter,” Luhan said. “Congratulations.” Then he focused Baekhyun back on Youri. “What I mean about this is that you took her instinctively. You held her with care and caution because something in you knew to do it without having to think about it. That means that whatever these thoughts are that you’re having, they’re not something instinctive. They have to be coming from somewhere, and if you learn to let go of them, they won’t persist.”

“Easier said than done,” Baekhyun sighed out.

Luhan tapped the side of the bottle to test out the warmth. “You said you start to have physical symptoms of these thoughts?”

“My skin literally crawls,” Baekhyun replied. “It takes everything in me not to try and scratch my skin off.”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather talk to Sehun about this? He had a lot of fears going into Youri’s birth. He probably had a lot of the concerns that you have now.”

Baekhyun said, “Sehun’s got his own shit to worry about. He’s in therapy for it. The last thing he needs is for me to pile mine on. So, ah, did you ever even sort of feel that way about Youri?”

When the bottle was warm enough, Luhan handed it to Bakehyun and said, “See if she’s interested in eating. I don’t hear any cries for it, but you never know.” A moment later he said, “I’d lay awake at night for hours and hours before Youri was born, and it had nothing to do with how uncomfortable pregnancy is at the end. I was convinced that I’d do everything wrong, mess up royally, and let Sehun down. I never had any physical symptoms of that, but I felt it inside me. The worry.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” Bakehyun asked, looking vulnerable at the question. He fed the bottle to Youri easily. “I can handle other babies so easily. I’ve forced myself to take all the classes, read all the books, and learn everything, but I struggle to touch my wife’s stomach because I think I’ll hurt her somehow.”

Baehyun sounded like he needed therapy, but Luhan wasn’t sure if it was right to advise that. Some people took to it easily, and almost naturally, like Sehun. Some people resisted. And for some people, they could work their issues out without it. Therapy certainly didn’t solve everything.

“Baekhyun,” Luhan said quietly, watching him feed Youri. “What’s your relationship like with your father?”

Defensively, Baekhyun demanded, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing, for all I know,” Luhan said with a shrug. “But Sehun’s issues with Youri had everything to do with Seoyoung. Your issues seem to be about hurting your child. And that makes you feel ill. One might … draw a conclusion.”

For a long time Baekhyun was quiet. In fact Youri demolished nearly all of her bottle before he had anything to say.

Then finally it was only, “My father hurt my mother.”

“And you,” Luhan assumed.

Curtly, Baekhyun said, “He drank. There were accidents.”

Accidents.

Luhan very much doubted a man hurting his spouse, or a father hurting his son, was anything but an accident.

“He drank?” Luhna prompted. He reached a hand out for Youri and it never ceased to amaze him how her fingers curled around the digit he offered her so easily.

Looking pale, Baekhyun said, “He had a bad back injury. He got it working before I was born, and there were pain pills he took, but he always said they didn’t help like the alcohol did. My mother loved him so much, and he loved her. It’s not that he didn’t love her. He loved her more than she loved him, but he just drank. He drank until it consumed him, because he was desperate to make the pain go away. And he never knew how much he hurt her until after the alcohol flushed from his system.”

“He didn’t just hurt your mom, right” Luhan asked. “He hurt you?”

Baekhyun gave a shaky nod. “He … one time … my mom was pregnant with me. He pushed her too hard. It wasn’t his fault. It was an accident. But she fell and I was born premature and it was just worse after that. He was consumed with guilt and he never meant to hurt us ever again, just like I don’t mean to hurt my baby, but it just happened. What if that’s me? What if that turns out to be me?”

“You don’t drink,” Luhan pointed out evenly. “Socially, maybe, but not to dull pain. Not in an addictive way.”

“Maybe I don’t need alcohol to hurt my wife and baby,” Baekhyun pressed. “What if I just press too hard, or get mad and push Taeyeon? What if the baby cries too loud and I just want her to shut up?”

“What if,” Luhan said in contrast, “you hold your wife in your arms and you know instinctively how you’ll die to protect her? What if your baby cries and all you want to do is make things better, no matter how tired you are, or in need of sleep, or just overwhelmed?”

Baekhyun looked down at Youri. “What if I’m just like my father?”

Luhan reached for the refrigerator door and pulled out the beginnings of the lunch he’d have that day. It was leftovers, the remains of food Lay had dropped off for him days ago, but it was good enough and Luhan had certainly gotten less picky when there was an angry baby making demands on him.

“Do you know anything about my father?” Luhan asked him.

Baekhyun shook his head. “Only that your parents tried to make you stay in China? I’m not sure about those details, either. Sehun was pretty hush-hush about it. He only said they were trying to make you stay, that he had to go get you, and that none of us were ever to say anything to you about it.”

“It’s not that sensitive of an issue,” Luhan said, finding Sehun’s overprotective nature less than charming in that instance. “I have a friend Wei, who’s family is very close with my parents. They saw an advantageous business move in marrying the two of us, and they didn’t stop to ask what my thoughts on the matter would be, or if they had my permission for such a thing.”

“So what’s the relevance?”

Luhan told him, “My father is a bastard. He never physically hurt me, and I don’t doubt in some way he loved me. But he always saw me as an asset. As property, even. I was something he could use after some proper planning. He was never warm to me, caring or familial. He tried to force me to be something I wasn’t, tried to punish me for having interests of my own, and never respected me.”

“Sounds like a bastard.”

Luhan nodded. “My point here is that if Youri wants to grow up and be a rocket scientist even though I’d rather her be a novelist, I’ll support that. If, god forbid, she wants to try and be a singer, when you and I know what kind of world that is, I’ll still support her. I will always tell her I love her, and hug and kiss her. I will always make sure she knows that she is my daughter and her needs come above my own. I won’t try to control her. I won’t impose my views on her, and she can grow up into whatever person she’s meant to be without any antagonizing behavior on my part. I am not my father, Baekhyun. Some sons learn from their fathers how to be good fathers. And some learn how to be better than the ones they had. I think you’re the latter.”

“How can you say that so confidently?” Baekhyun asked.

Luhan took Youri back as she began to go slack with sleep. “Because you continue to irritate me endlessly, but I let you watch my baby while I took a nap.”

“Yes,” Baekhyun said slowly. “I watched Youri while you slept. What about it?”

Luhan abandoned his lunch preparation to head to the nursery with Youri. “Think about that, will you? I’ve only let family do that since she was born.”

By the time Luhan emerged from the nursery, Youri sleeping with a thumb tucked between her rosy lips, Baekhyun was fitting his shoes on.

“You don’t want to stay for lunch and eat my amazing leftovers?” Luhan chuckled.

“No,” Baekhyun said, head down.

Luhan called out to him, “Baekhyun, for what it’s worth, I think all of the obsessive thoughts you’re having, and the worries, and even the itching of your skin, is actually a good thing. It means you love your baby very much. It means you love Taeyeon very much. And it means that now that you have an idea what might be the cause of all of this, you stand a good chance of making progress towards resolving it before your daughter is born.”

“It took Sehun months of therapy,” Baekhyun pointed out, “to get over the worst of his issues.”

“And it’ll probably take you just as long if not more,” Luhan said back. “But only if you start talking about the things I can tell you’ve been keeping bottled inside. Talk to your mom, Baekhyun. Talk to Taeyeon. And yes, even talk to Sehun. Sehun is strong and resilient and more than capable of handling your problems. He’s also your friend, and he’ll be upset in the end if you don’t come to him with something like this when he struggled with his impending fatherhood, albeit with different circumstances.”

Shoes fully on, Baekhyun mumbled, “I’ll think about what you said.”

“Or,” Luhan said, trying to keep his voice low as Youri napped. “You can always come back and talk to me in exchange for some much needed rest time. Youri’s a handful and I didn’t think it would be this difficult with Sehun working so hard to catch up with his job. I’m not too prideful to admit I need an extra hand.”

“You?” Baekhyun asked.

Luhan agreed, “Me. Because even if we have a weird dynamic, and even if we’re at odds half the time, I think we’re also friends. And I will always be honest with you. I will never lie to you or sugarcoat anything. That’s my promise to you.”

With one silent nod Baekhyun was off, pulling his coat closed as he slipped out into the windy, chilly March weather.

The rest of the day was marked by Tao’s easy company, and a much more manageable Youri who’d apparently decided that she was perfectly fine, and absolutely not sick with anything.

“I missed you,” Sehun said when he slipped through the door much later that night, kissing Luhan deeply as he caught him around the waist.

“I missed you too,” Luhan said with warmth as he dragged Sehun down for a more intense kiss. “And so did Youri.”

With an apologetic kiss Sehun let go of Luhan and said, “Where’s my girl? The nursery?”

As Sehun jogged off to see their daughter, Luhan thought of Baekhyun. He hoped that Baekhyun could sort of out his issues before the baby was born. He hoped that Baekhyun had someone to talk to.

And there was real validity for that kind of hope.

Because Sehun had come through in the end for Youri. Which meant Baekhyun could for his own daughter, too.

Chapter Text

They probably made an obscene sight.

But as Sehun pressed Luhan up against the wall, his mouth plunging against Luhan’s, hands groping everywhere, the both of them hard and hot and seconds away from ripping at clothing, there was a thought in his mind that it wasn’t his fault.

It really wasn’t.

Because Luhan was young and ridiculously attractive. He was the man who’d given Sehun another shot at family, and great sex. The sex. Seriously. It was seriously the best.

Weeks after Luhan had been cleared for sex, they’d been having it as if it were the only thing important in the world. They were tearing at each other in-between Youri’s feedings, the second she went to bed, and every other possible second.

Sehun couldn’t get enough of Luhan, and there’d be no complaints from Luhan.

“We’re going to burn,” Luhan groaned out as Sehun yanked one of his legs up, grinding them together in a delicious way. “In hell, I mean.”

With his mouth wet and sloppy, Sehun captured Luhan’s lips to stop him from talking again. They were free from the responsibility that was their daughter for at least a little bit longer. They had to capitalize on it.

“Don’t care,” Sehun said. And he didn’t. All that mattered was how fast he could get Luhan’s pants off and the small tube of lube from his pocket.

Heavy thudding on the door jarred Sehun so severely that he dropped Luhan back fully to his feet.

“Oh crap,” Luhan said, his face flushed and eyes wide.

“Sehun,” Suho’s heavy voice carried through from the other side of the door. “I know you’re in there.”

Sehun groaned unhappily as Luhan ran quick fingers through his hair, trying to make it look like he hadn’t been seconds away from sex. The action only made him look more debauched, and the sight was tempting Sehun to ignore Suho completely.

“No I’m not,” Sehun said, trying to palm down the bulge in his pants. “Go away.”

“Very funny,” Suho replied right away, voice muffled. “But I’m here to save your immortal soul. You are not about to have sex in this church.”

It had … seem liked a good idea at the time?

That was a lie. Of course it was a lie. But for the past couple days Chen had been camped out in Sehun’s living room, and Sehun had found himself honor bound to be there with his best friend just before his marriage. That meant Sehun hadn’t been able to see Luhan for more than a couple hours a day, and never with any kind of privacy.

Therefore it seemed a bit like the universe was attempting to do the right thing that morning when Chen had gone off to make his final wedding preparations, and Suho had arrived in from the airport more than happy to watch his niece.

Sehun hadn’t exactly planned to lose all self-control in one of the church’s many back rooms. It had just happened, with Luhan looking especially classy in his dress clothing.

“Open the door,” Suho said again, and Luhan was the one who gave Sehun a pointed look this time.

“Fine,” Sehun huffed out. He finished making himself presentable and flipped the lock on the door. “Hello, Suho.”

Sehun knew the that whole situation was lost the moment that the door opened to reveal a displeased Suho with Youri in his arms. Luhan brushed past Sehun without a word, pulling her up into his arms and she reached for him instinctively, a smile on her face.

“Hi, Suho,” Luhan said, cradling Youri in a way that told Sehun he wouldn’t be in the mood for anything frisky for quite some time again.

Sehun tucked his shirt back into his pants and asked sharply, “Aren’t you supposed to be spending some quality time with your niece? Not interrupting me when I’m about to--”

“Have sex in a church?” Suho asked lowly.

Eyes narrowing, Sehun said, “I basically practiced abstinence for well over a year. I think god might forgive me. I’m only human, after all.”

Suho tapped the back of his head painfully. “Don’t be blasphemous.”

“Sorry,” Sehun offered, ducking his head.

“So,” Luhan said, hefting Youri a little higher in his arms, “is something going on? I thought you were good to watch Youri for a few more hours.”

Sehun had actually been counting on Suho to keep Youri preoccupied until at least half an hour before the wedding started. That would have given Sehun at least another hour with Luhan.

“You could say that,” Suho said with a sigh, playfully poking Youri.

For just a second Sehun was distracted by Youri. When he and Luhan had dropped her off with Suho she’d been dressed in her wedding outfit, a lilac and white lacy dress that Sehun had almost had a stroke over the price of. Luhan had also managed to get white socks on her feet, but she’d been wildly protesting both the shoes she was supposed to wear and the complimentary headpiece that Luhan had tried for a half an hour to get her to not pull at.

At just over five months Youri was absolutely developing her own unique personality, and it was becoming quite clear that she was fiercely independent. Youri rarely liked being cajoled into doing something she didn’t want to, was far more happy to crawl off and explore on her own than sit and cuddle with Sehun or Luhan, and had no patience at all for the people around her.

Youri, Sehun could tell, was going to be a spitfire. She was going to be strong willed, and headstrong and determined. She’d grow up knowing what she liked, what she wanted, and what she wasn’t willing to compromise on. She’d be one hell of a force to be reckoned with, and Sehun couldn’t wait.

“Is this you?” Sehun asked, gesturing to Youri. Now she had the lace trimmed headpiece that was fitted with tiny pearls, threaded into her hair expertly. And equally surprising were the tiny Mary-Jane shoes that she was kicking out with.

“Miracle worker,” Luhan laughed.

“I did my part,” Suho admitted, “but Baekhyun helped, if you can believe. I held her steady while he got it all on, but all he had to do was stare at her.”

Sehun wasn’t sure if he should be concerned with how much his daughter seemed to like Baekhyun. She more than liked him. She was enamored with him, and he was easily her favorite person. Luhan thought it was hilarious, but Sehun was already feeling the grips of overprotective urges that came with being the father to a daughter.

Luhan reminded, “There might be a problem?”

Youri was turning over in his arms which meant that she wanted to be put down immediately. She couldn’t crawl yet, but she’d completely mastered dragging herself across the floor on her butt and rolling around. She seemed desperate to be mobile and Sehun knew none of them were looking forward to that.

Suho gave a serious nod. “It’s Chen, Sehun.”

“He’s not running, is he?”

Luhan gave Sehun a concerned look as he knelt down to sit Youri on her butt. “Running? Sehun, you don’t really think he would, right? Suho?”

“He’s not running yet,” Suho said, looking between the two of them. “But he’s vomited twice in the last hour alone, is refusing to get dressed just yet, doesn’t want to talk to the priest who’s trying to calm him down, and does look like he might make for the door at any time. Sehun, he’s your best friend. He was there for you when you were nervous and unsure on your wedding day to Jae. I think you need to be here for him on his.”

Giving a serious nod, Sehun said, “Of course. I know he wants this marriage. He’s in love with Eunji and wants to have a family and a future with her. This is just him being nervous. I’ll go talk to him.”

As Sehun bent to give Youri a parting kiss, Luhan asked, “How is Eunji?”

Sehun thought of how he and Luhan had seen her two weeks earlier at Youri’s five month checkup. She’d seemed perfectly fine, but that didn’t mean much. In all the time that Sehun had known Eunji, he’d learned that she was fiercely personal, and rarely let cracks below the surface show.

“Fine as far as I know,” Suho said. “But she’s not even at the church yet. I’m more worried about someone telling her how flightly Chen seems right now. The last thing we need is the both of them freaking out.”

“Luhan,” Sehun said, giving him a serious look. “Promise me that when we get married there won’t be this kind of drama.”

Luhan tucked an arm under Youri’s bottom and ignored the unhappy sounds she was making. “Sehun,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “when we get married it’ll be me, you, our closest friends and family, and a lot of good food. There won’t be a single reason for either of us to be nervous, and we’ll be so ready for marriage, something that we’ve thought about and talked about and planned for, that neither of us will have it in our mind even slightly to run.”

Sehun moved from Youri to Luhan and kissed him squarely on the mouth. “I love you. I’ll be back, okay? Let me just go stop my best friend from giving up the perfect girl for him. Half an hour, tops.”

“Go,” Luhan shooed him playfully. “I’ll go take Youri and go make sure that no one spills the beans about Chen’s momentary lapse of confidence.”

Sehun flashed him a smile. “You’re the best.”

As Luhan went in the opposite direction with a struggling baby in his arms, Suho trailed after Sehun saying, “I’ve got Chanyeol basically sitting on Chen right now, making sure he doesn’t crawl out the window.”

“Good,” Sehun said, trying to retrace his steps to the main portion of the church. This certainly wasn’t the church that Sehun had attended with Jae, and even now went to once in a while with Jae’s parents. This was Eunji’s church, and it was nice, but Sehun couldn’t help but wonder if that was part of the reason why Chen was feeling so nervous.

“You know,” Suho said, pulling open a door in front of them, “I missed this.”

“This?” Sehun snorted. “The endless amount of drama?”

“This kind of drama,” Suho replied, “is the kind that keeps you on your feet. And it makes people closer to each other when it’s done. None of the people I’ve met in America yet and become friends with have this kind of drama.”

Sehun thought it was a very good sign that up ahead he could see more people in formal clothes standing around. And none of them looked panicked, which meant it was probably unknown to them that Chen was probably having a meltdown.

He told Suho, “I refused to believe that Americans don’t have drama in their life. That is not what their movies have taught me.”

“Meh,” Suho said. “It’s just not the same. If you ever take me up on my offer to come stay for a short vacation, you’ll know what I mean.”

Sehun almost told him how much he wanted to. The past five months, at least since Youri had been born, had been hectic and crazy and downright amazing. Sehun had been tested time and time again with his patience and ability to endure.

Now Youri was sleeping through the night. He and Luhan were closer than ever. And a vacation was starting to sound very nice.

“I’ll talk to Luhan about it,” Sehun said. “Now, where’s Chen?”

“This way,” Suho said, and led on.

They headed down another side corridor, this one wider than all the others, which branched off in several more rooms. It was only now that Sehun was starting to realize how huge the church actually was.

“It’s up on the left here,” Suho said.

Sehun stopped in his tracks, annoyance flaring. “Suho, I thought you said Chanyeol was watching him.”

Up ahead it was easy to see Chanyeol leaning casually against a wall as he chatted to a handsome man in a royal blue dress shirt.

“Chanyeol!” Sehun called out, storming towards him. “You’re supposed to be keeping an eye on Chen.”

The man Chanyeol had been talking to ducked under Chanyeol’s arm and dashed past them, looking even more attractive as he gave Sehun a bashful smile.

“It’s fine,” Chanyeol said flippantly. “Everything is fine. But seriously, did you see that guy? He’s super hot.”

Suho crossed his arms. “Are you picking up guys at Chen’s wedding?”

“Hopefully!” Chanyeol said. “All the girls brought dates. But the pool of bachelors in this wedding is substantially better stocked.”

Sehun pinched his brow. “You should be focused on Chen right now, not getting a date.”

Chanyeol headed straight to the nearest door and turned the lock. With a raised eyebrow he said, “Chen’s still in here. I made sure I locked it from the outside, the window inside doesn’t open more than three inches, and I slipped Chen a Xanax. Everything is fine.”

“You idiot,” Sehun said, deliberately brushing by Chen as he headed through the door.

Suho asked flatly, “How is Chen supposed to get married in a couple of hours if he’s messed up on a Xanax?

Chanyeol defended, “It was like half a Xanax, and Suho, he was crawling up the wall. I had to do something.”

“Chen?”

Sehun called for his best friend the second he was in the dark room. His hand reached for the nearby switch and the lights came on immediately, showing that most of Chen’s clothing was laid out on a nearby table, there were grooming products for his hair next to the clothing, and Chen himself was curled up sleeping on the sofa underneath the window.

“Chen,” Sehun said softly as he knelt next to him. He put a hand on Chen’s shoulder and shook him briefly. “Wake up.”

“Is he okay?” Suho asked from behind them.

Chen’s eyes cracked open. “Sehun?”

“Yeah,” Sehun said, looking back to Suho. “Could you get Chen some water? And how about something to eat, too? I’m going to get him up and moving. Hopefully after he eats something, he’ll stop doing his best impression as a zombie. Here’s hoping.”

Suho jammed a finger into Chanyeol’s chest firmly. “You come with me.”

It was a bit of an effort, but eventually Sehun got Chen sitting up firmly. “There you go,” Sehun said. “You okay, Chen?”

Chen’s fingers were shaking as he laced them together. His head dipped and with a rough voice, he asked, “What am I doing, Sehun?”

Sehun moved to sit next to him on the sofa. “Getting married?”

Chen’s eyes were red, either from stress or sleep, and they made him look worn out when he turned to look at Sehun. “But why?”

“Because that’s what people who are in love do.” Sehun tried to give him a calming smile. “I married Jae. Baekhyun married Taeyeon.”

Chen let out a low breath. “I just keep … feeling like I’m doing the wrong thing. Eunji and I … we have something really good going. For years now. What if this messes everything up?”

“Why would marriage do that?”

“Because marriage wrecks thing all the time,” Chen snapped back. “Isn’t that why you haven’t married Luhan?”

Sehun frowned. “That’s not … Chen. Luhan and I are not the same as you and Eunji. You know that isn’t a fair comparison at all, or even one that makes sense. You and Eunji did all the right things at the right time, and took your relationship slow. Luhan and I … plunged head first into a complicated relationship that didn’t always work the way we wanted it to. We’re going to get married, we just … want the timing to be right.”

Chen asked, “What if Eunji and I don’t get married? Why should we have to? People don’t have to get married if they love each other. We could just keep going the way we are. That’s better than tying ourselves to each other and wrecking this.”

“You could,” Sehun supposed. “But relationships are all about moving forward and progressing. You don’t want to get stuck in the same place. Chen, do you think Eunji would have agreed to marry you if she didn’t want to? There’s nothing about that woman that tells me she’d do that just to spare your feelings.”

“You’re right,” Chen said with a chuckle.

Sehun let his hand cover Chen’s. “It’s okay to be scared, you know. Most people are scared before they get married. Marriage is a scary thing. It’s absolutely life changing.”

Chen rubbed a hand across his face. “Eunji and I don’t know how to be married. Before this we spent years spending time together, but also spending a lot of time apart. She’s got her career and so do I. How are we supposed to know if we can do this marriage thing? What if we drive each other crazy? What if we fall out of love? How do we know that we can balance a family and everything else?”

“Do you think Luhan and I had any idea if we could pull off having any kind of relationship and being parents to Youri?” He nudged Chen’s shoulder with his own. “You think we did okay?”

Chen looked startled, “You and Luhan are a great team. Youri is the happiest baby I know.”

“And I know you,” Sehun said. “I know what kind of a man you are. So if you want to be worried about what kind of husband you’ll be to Eunji, that’s okay. But you should also keep in mind that I’ve got all the faith in the world about you and Eunji, and the two of you getting married.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, then Chen said, “Thanks, Sehun.”

“For what?”

Chen gestured between them.

Sehun smiled and sank back on the sofa. “This? This is nothing. You remember those hours before I married Jae?”

“You were sweating buckets,” Chen said with a fond grin of remembrance. “You were pale, shaking, and looked like you might wet yourself.”

“But you were there for me,” Sehun said. “You tried talking sense into me, and told me I was going to be just fine being a husband for the first time. And when the talking wasn’t enough, you took me down the street to that frozen yoghurt shop and bought me my weight in watermelon frozen yoghurt.”

Chen laughed out, “You ate so much you could barely stand up and say your vows. Jae never blamed you, you know. He kept giving you these looks of concern like you were the victim. But me? I thought he was going to roast me alive where I stood. It’s like he knew, Sehun. He just knew.”

When Sehun thought of his wedding day, he only had the best of memories. From the way Suho had hugged him tightly and promised to always be his family, to eating yoghurt twenty minutes before he was supposed to get married, to kissing Jae for the first time as his husband.

“I bet he did,” Sehun said. He added seriously, “More than once I considered that Jae might be omniscient.”

Chen leaned back next to Sehun. “You’re not putting off getting married to Luhan because of Jae, right?”

“Honestly?” Sehun barely waited for acknowledgment from Chen. “I would have married Luhan before Youri was born if he’d let me. And we’d have been married months ago if we’d let ourselves. The truth is we want to be married. We want to take that step and trust that things will work if we try. But we need the time to be right. We have to be absolutely sure because we’re not going to mess up anymore than we already have. We’re going to do it right.”

“Then how do I know that this is the right time for me to marry Eunji?”

Sehun asked, “How long did you think about asking Eunji to marry you before you actually did?”

Chen winced. “Around two years.”

“And how long did you know you wanted to marry her?”

There was a silly, almost childlike expression on Chen’s face. “Since about the very first second I saw her.”

With a groan Sehun launched himself up to his feet and then held a hand down to Chen. “Then you should stop worrying completely right now. You’re ready to get married. But there’s something we have to do first.”

Chen reached out and let Sehun pull him up. “What’s that?”

Plainly, Sehun said, “We have to go get some frozen yoghurt.”

“You’re not serious,” Chen said. “You can’t be serious.”

With a shrug, Sehun said, “It’s kind of a tradition, right?” He waved a hand at Chen’s things in the room. “All your stuff is here, and be honest, we can get you ready to go in about five minutes. I say we get out of here, get some frozen yoghurt, relax, and then come back here and get you married. That sound good to you?”

Chen warned, “We’ll have to sneak out and be super stealthy. If anyone sees me leaving, they’ll freak Eunji out. I don’t want her to know about this. God, I don’t want Xiumin to hunt me down thinking I’m bailing on his sister. He keeps a baseball bat in the trunk of his car, you know. He’s had it in there ever since Eunji and I started dating.”

Sehun gave a nervous chuckle. “I kind of believe that, you know.”

“So? Frozen yoghurt?”

Seriously, Sehun said, “Follow me.”

It was a bit like they were children. Or ninjas. Or child ninjas. In any case, they crept through the church as stealthily as possible, taking all the back passageways and keeping their heads down until they finally burst out into the street. Then they were running across the parking lot, making for Sehun’s car with focus and precision.

“Get in!” Sehun shouted, hitting the door unlock on his car remote.

Sehun was rounding the car to the driver’s side when he heard a voice as flatly, “Sehun? Why exactly are you escaping the church with the groom in tow?”

He was terrified that when he turned around he’d see Xiumin or even Luhan, maybe Suho or any other number of people who simply wouldn’t understand why Sehun had to get Chen out of there for a short while.

But it was Lay. He was finely dressed for the wedding, looking handsome in his black slacks and pale green shirt. He had a curious look on his face, but not a judgmental one.

Slowly, Sehun said, “I’m … we’re …”

Lay cleared his throat. “Will you be coming back? In time for the wedding?”

Chen’s head poked out from the car immediately. “Yes!”

“And Luhan’s inside?” Lay asked, pointing to the church.

Sehun confirmed, “He is, with Youri. But … ah … if you see him, don’t tell him you saw us? I’m going to text him in about five minutes. I promise.”

Lay shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you at the wedding. It starts in just over an hour now.”

“I know,” Chen said, slipping back in the car.

Sehun got in the car himself, turned it on, cranked up the radio, and blew out of the parking lot with Chen laughing and Sehun feeling like he was the best friend ever. Or the worst. It was probably debatable. But he wanted to hope for best.

At least until they discovered that there were no frozen yoghurt places within a reasonable difference.

There was, however, a shaved ice cart that had children clustered around, their fingers and tongues stained red and blue from the food coloring.

So Sehun and Chen ended up sitting on the roof of Sehun’s car, cones of shaved ice in their hands, eating in silence and enjoying each other’s company.

“Maybe it isn’t what we eat,” Chen said, head tipping back against the warm sun shining down on them. “Maybe it’s just that we’re together.”

“You old sentimental bastard,” Sehun chuckled. But he completely agreed. Sometimes comfort wasn’t dependent on the variables. Sometimes it just came down to the people who were sharing in that comfort.

Sehun’s phone vibrated next to him on the hood of the car and he snatched it up, reading the message with a sigh.

“Time to get back?” Chen guessed.

Sehun nodded. “Luhan said that Eunji’s on her way to the church. She’ll go the traditional route and not see you before the wedding, but if she gets there before you, it won’t be good. We need to head back.”

As they climbed back in the car, Chen aid, “You should think about tying the knot with Luhan sooner, rather than later. Technically you’ve known Luhan a lot longer than most people who get married.”

“I told you,” Sehun said. “Luhan and I are waiting until the time is right.”

Chen gave a scoff. “You know what John Lennon once said?”

Sehun gave him a deadpan look. “Are you seriously about to quote John Lennon at me? You don’t even listen to music in English.”

“He said,” Chen continued on, ignoring the incredulous look Sehun was giving him. “Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans.”

“Thanks for that gleaming pearl of knowledge, Chen.”

“Think about it,” Chen shot back.

By the time they got back to the church the parking lot was almost completely full, with people clustered all around.

Sehun rushed Chen straight past anyone who might have tried to stop them, got him into the backroom they’d left Chen’s things in, and helped him dress.

“You, mister, have some explaining to do.”

Just as Chen was slipping his shoes on, Sehun looked over to see Luhan in the doorway. He had his arms crossed in a not pleased way and a frown on his face.

“I sent you that text,” Sehun said slowly, wondering if this was what it was to be completely whipped. “Don’t be mad at me. Chen and I needed to talk and just relax for five seconds.”

“Suho was convinced that you’d helped Chen fly the coop, Sehun.”

Sehun winced. “No. And I brought him back.”

Chen pivoted in his seat and said, “Don’t be mad at Sehun, Luhan. This was all me. I needed to breathe, and Sehun made that possible.”

Luhan’s face softened. “Okay. As long as everything’s okay now?”

Chen gave a nod. “For sure.”

Sehun made the quick trip to Luhan’s side and kissed his cheek. “I love you. Thank you for being understanding. But also, where’s our daughter?”

Linking their fingers, Luhan said, “Playing with Ahra. Baekhyun’s watching the two of them, probably trying to stop our daughter from influencing his in Youri’s bid for world domination. But we should go get her. The wedding is due to start very soon.”

Sehun wondered, “Do you think she’ll even sit through the ceremony?”

Laughing, Luhan said, “Not a chance But if we’re lucky she’ll make it fifteen or twenty minutes before screaming for attention.” And considering Eunji and Chen were having a staunchly catholic wedding, it was sure to run longer than twenty minutes.

From where he was styling his hair, Chen said, “Just put her down on the ground and let her crawl. That’ll make an otherwise boring ceremony pretty interesting.”

With another kiss delivered to Luhan’s cheek, Sehuun said, “I’ll have Chen up and ready in five minutes. Buy us that much more time?”

Chen was ready in three, and standing up at the alter by the time those five minutes expired.

And for all the drama that had led up to the day, the wedding proceeded flawlessly. And it was beautiful, too. Eunji looked pristine in her white fitted dress, and no matter how nervous Chen was, he stood with impeccable confidence as he said his vows in front of his friends and family.

Sehun stood up at the alter next to Chen as best man, holding the rings as he waited for his moment to hand them over, but mostly his attention was on Luhan who was seated near the back with both Taeyeon and Baekhyun in case any of them had to whisk their babies away.

The whole affair, with the way Luhan’s eyes were shinning with affection and unspent tears, made Sehun question what they really were waiting for.

It seemed kind of foolish now to wait, not when they had their whole future ahead of them, and there’d been no indication that they’d fall back into any of the habits or behaviors that had caused them friction before in the past.

Youri, for the most part, made it almost halfway through the ceremony, distracted by graham crackers and toys. Sehun was surprised it took so long or him to see Luhan lifting a squirming, complaining Youri out of the pew as he headed for the exit.

And then the wedding was over. Eunji and Chen shared a sweet kiss, and that seemed to be that.

The after party, the party that Sehun had honestly been looking forward to the most, was held at a banquet hall nearby and was in full swing by the time he and Luhan arrived with a freshly changed Youri.

“She needs a nap,” Luhan said kindly as he rocked a fussing Youri. The food was starting to come out. “I may need to take her to the car for an hour or so.”

Sehun slid a warm hand around the back of Luhan’s neck. “I don’t want you to miss the party.”

Luhan shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”

Youri’s tiny fingers came up to clutch at the material on Luhan’s shirt and she looked like the angel Sehun absolutely knew she wasn’t.

“She did good today,” Luhan said, kissing her brow. “I think we underestimate how much patience it takes for a kid to get through a wedding. Sometimes it’s hard for an adult.”

Sehun brushed his fingers down her arm, laugh a little as she turned further into Luhan, eyes closing. “She may just fall asleep against you, no car needed.”

“That’s okay,” Luhan assured. “She can rest for as long as she needs.”

Luhan was such a good father Sehun barely knew what to do with himself.

And everything seemed to work out perfectly as Youri slept through most of the meal, drooling against Luhan, which left Luhan and Sehun to enjoy themselves at the table they were seated at with Suho, Baekhyun, Taeyeon, and several of Eunji’s wedding guests.

As far as weddings and after parties seemed to go, it was definitely the best that Sehun had been too in a very long time. The food was excellent, the music and dancing was superb, and there wasn’t a single problem as they partied into the night.

The whole affair left Sehun feeling extra comfortable when they finally climbed in the car at the end of the party to go home. Chen and Eunji were off on their honeymoon and Sehun already had plans to meet with Suho for lunch the next day and eek out as much time with his friend as possible.

So they were barely halfway home by the time Sehun blurted out, “Chen and I talked about some stuff today.”

Youri was dozing again in her carseat and Luhan was looking sleepy himself as he said, “When you two left the church?”

“Yeah,” Sehun said. “He was nervous about his life changing after he got married, and he didn’t want to mess up what he had with Eunji. And honestly, I was helping him, but he got me thinking, too. The whole wedding did.”

“About what?” Luhan leaned towards him.

Sehun pursed his lips for a second, looking at Luhan. Maybe it was wrong to say something. Maybe he’d ruin everything.

“Sehun?”

He burst out, “What are we waiting for?”

Luhan looked taken aback. “Could I have come context for that outburst?”

Sehun deflated a little. “Us getting married. What are we really waiting for? Look, I know we said we’d wait until we were both ready, and that made sense when we weren’t sure, but I’m so sure now. I’m beyond sure.”

“So you think we’re ready to be married now?”

Sehun nodded almost reverently. “We are so good together, Luhan. We’re the perfect parenting machine, and none of that has detracted from how good we are as a couple. We’ve never been stronger or more loyal. We’re good at working our problems out with words, and I have never been in a better place.”

“That is true,” Luhan admitted.

“And,” Sehun pressed on, “we’ve known each other for fourteen months. I mean, really we’ve only been in a committed relationship for a little over half a year, but we’re solid. We’re so solid, Luhan. We’re going to raise our daughter together and love each other and I think we’re ready to get married.”

Sehun’s heart was beating so hard in his chest he felt physical pain from it. If Luhan didn’t say something soon, Sehun was certain he was going to have to pull the car over and just breathe for a couple of minutes.

“Sehun,” Luhan murmured, voice low so he didn’t wake Youri, “You’re not very observant, are you?”

Sehun frowned. “Huh?”

As they eased to a stop at a red light, Luhan leaned over and kissed him lightly. “You’ve been very distracted today, so I’ll let it slide.”

“I’m very confused,” Sehun admitted.

Luhan tapped his fingers against Sehun’s leg. “Honestly, I’ve been ready to marry you for a while now. I just wasn’t sure you were ready. I was hoping this wedding might jar you. I was waiting for you to either tell me, or notice.”

The light clicked over to green but they were on a side road and there were no other cars, so Sehun kept them idling in place. “Notice what?”

Luhan tapped his thigh more firmly. “That I’m wearing it.”

Sehun’s eyes jerked down to where he could see Luhan’s hand with its pale with long delicate fingers. And the ring that Sehun had bought around Christmas, a thin band of gold that was stylish and practical, was on his finger.

“You’re …”

Luhan was wearing it. He was wearing the wedding ring.

“You,” Luhan said, pressing their lips together lovingly, “are the father of my daughter, one of my best friends, and the man I am very much in love with. We have been through hell and back together, made mistakes, but also learned from them. We’re ready to be married to each other.”

Voice at a whisper, Sehun asked, “How long have you been wearing the ring?”

“Since last night,” Luhan said with a grin. “I certainly thought you’d notice in the shower this morning … or in that storage room at the church … or--”

“I’m horribly inattentive,” Sehun said, but there was a huge smile on his face, so wide it was making his cheeks hurt. “And I really, really love you.”

A car horn sounded behind them and Sehun let off the break, taking them once again towards home.

“I love you too,” Luhan said, reaching for Sehun’s free hand. And this time when their fingers linked, Sehun could feel the ring on Luhan’s finger. He wasn’t sure how he had missed it before.

Sehun took in a deep, satisfying breath, and said, “So … we’re getting married.”

Luhan settled back into his seat and squeezed Sehun’s hand. “We’re getting married.”

Chapter Text

Because Luhan was so warm and comfortable, it only seemed realistic that he’d have trouble waking up, even amidst the sounds of Youri playing loudly and Sehun’s laughing.

He was so warm and comfortable that none of that even seemed to matter, not when he was exhausted, settled from the first full meal he’d been able to keep down in weeks, and cushioned by a soft blanket placed on top of spring colored grass. No one in their right mind would want to get up, Luhan included, at least not until he heard Sehun fumbling for his phone, which probably indicated Youri was doing something worth watching.

Or just that Sehun was being an obsessive father. It was hard to tell some days. But with Youri clear of her terrible twos, something that had brought nothing but frustration and tantrums, Luhan was more inclined to believe that a mellowed three year old Youri was probably doing something cute.

Cracking open his eyes everything was bright. Too bright. Luhan fought the urge to duck his head under the blanket and go back to sleep.

But then Sehun was there, leaning over him and blocking out the light, and grinning wildly as he said, “Hi there, beautiful. Have a nice nap?” Sehun kissed him gently, fingers stroking down Luhan’s stomach. “Feeling better?”

“Actually, yes,” Luhan said, sitting up fully. The sun caught his wedding ring and blinded him for a second, and that told him how long he’d been sleeping. When he curled up for a self proclaimed five minutes of rest, the tree they’d been picnicking under had provided ample shade. Now the sun had moved significantly. “Where’s Youri?”

Sehun laughed and pointed, reaching once more for his phone a second later to snap a picture. “She’s determined to catch that butterfly.”

Luhan’s eyes focused and he quickly found Youri dashing through the grass and flowers, chasing after a fluttering butterfly that was just out of her reach.

“Video,” Luhan said, nudging Sehun. “Get some video. We’ll send it to Suho to encourage him to get on having kids.” Suho, who’d ended up loving America and relocating permanently, had recently been sending them pictures of a green eyed, brown haired American girl that he looked to be utterly in love with. Luhan had a good deal of money riding on the assumption that Suho would marry her before the year was done.

“Got it,” Sehun said, and followed her movements diligently with his phone as Youri pleaded for the butterfly to hold still. And then demanded it.

Luhan lugged himself up to his knees, seeing that Sehun had already put away all of their picnic items, and the cleanup was finished. “If that butterfly knows what’s good for it, it’ll stop and let her catch it.”

Sehun lowered his phone and leaned over for another kiss from Luhan. “I really hope she doesn’t catch it,” Sehun said, wincing as Youri took a tumble. But then Sehun looked nothing but proud when she got right up, dusted off her knees, and kept going. “Because you know if she catches that butterfly, she’s going to want to bring it home, and that’s not going to happen.”

“I think she’s giving up,” Luhan said, grinning a bit madly as Youri shouted angrily at the butterfly about its rudeness before turning on heel and charging back towards them.

When she reached the blanket she threw herself down on it and remarked in her pitchy, young voice, “That butterfly is rude.”

Luhan smoothed down her bangs and told her comfortingly, “Some things are meant to be free, Youri. Some things are only beautiful when they are. And you wouldn’t have been able to keep the butterfly anyway. Do you understand?”

“No,” Youri said with a frown, then she rolled over onto her back and asked him. “Why did you sleep, baba? Are you tired?”

Luhan kissed her forehead and asked back, “Are you tired?”

Recognition appeared on her face and Youri declared, “I don’t need a nap!” Then she was off running, tumbling through the grass, jumping around as if to prove her point.

“She needs a nap,” Sehun said with a laugh as he tipped Luhan’s head back to kiss him, and with the kind of fervor that teenagers usually only had. “But I think she’ll sleep in the car.”

Luhan felt Sehun’s hand on his stomach warm and protective, and suggested between kisses, “We could tell her why I’m tired all the time. She asked me if I had the flu last week, you know, and then insisted I wear a mask around her.”

Sehun smiled another kiss against Luhan’s lips. “We can tell her later tonight, if you want. But god knows how she’ll take no long being our only baby.”

His pregnancy was a good thing. That was what Luhan found the most comfort in. He’d always wanted more kids with Sehun. And Youri was old enough to be a big sister now. After two and a half years of marriage to Sehun, and the learning curve that was Youri, they were ready for another. This baby, unlike Youri, had been planned. Luhan and Sehun had purposely gone off birth control months ago, and had fully expected to get pregnant.

Luhan had no reservations about being pregnant again. Sure, this time around his morning sickness as fiercer than he’d known it could be, dizziness tended to keep him off his feet most of the day, and his heightened sense of smell was making food the enemy, but Luhan was happy. He was more than happy. He certainly felt blessed that he and Sehun could expand their family once more.

But Youri? She absolutely delighted in being the focus of their attention. How she’d handle a new baby was anyone’s guess, but Luhan was certain she wouldn’t be overly thrilled in the beginning.

“I suspect,” Luhan said, wrapping an arm around the back of Sehun’s neck to keep him in place, “she won’t like it.” Youri most certainly suffered from only child syndrome. And now that Luhan thought about it, a little brother or sister would be good for her. A sibling would teach her patience and sharing, and would probably prevent Luhan and Sehun from spoiling her too much.

“She’ll get over it,” Sehun said, his fingers slipping under Luhan’s shirt to dip at his skin.

“Baba!” Youri called out, running back to their side. “Daddy!” She raced to tell them about the ladybug she’d seen, mixing Chinese and Korean so easily that Luhan wasn’t certain if he should be worried or impressed.

“All right,” Sehun said, heaving off Luhan to scoop Youri up. She shrieked in delight as Sehun dumped her upside down securely and spun her around. “Are you ready to go, princess?”

Luhan laughed at them as he lifted himself to his feet. He brushed off his clothing and then reached down for the picnic basket.

“I don’t think so,” Sehun said, swooping in, lifting it for him. “You carry the blanket, okay?”

Youri was set gently down on the ground and she set off towards the car as Luhan folded up the blanket. “Don’t let her get too far ahead,” Luhan said. On most days Luhan loved Youri’s adventurous nature. He loved that she wasn’t shy in the least bit, and was happy to take risks, experience new things, and seemingly held no fear of the world around her. But she was three now, with fast feet and far more mobility that Luhan had expected her to have just yet. It was scary how easily she could slip away.

“Don’t worry,” Sehun said, holding Luhan’s hand as they walked back to the car. “You know I won’t let anything happen to her.”

They piled into the car after that and made the half hour drive to their final destination of the day.

When they arrived Luhan exited the car with a sigh of relief, and Sehun lifted a sleepy Youri from her toddler seat. She wasn’t quite asleep just yet, but she was getting there.

“Ready?” Sehun asked.

Luhan nodded, and then together they climbed towards the big tree in the distance.

“Jae’s parents have been here recently,” Sehun observed as they approached the grave. There were fresh flowers displayed in front of the grave, bunches of them, in all sorts of colors and variations.

Luhan regretted not bringing flowers of their own, but the act had slipped his mind. Technically, it was called pregnancy brain—the normal forgetfulness that came with being pregnant. But that was Luhan’s excuse. He liked to tease Sehun that he had no such excuse.

Sehun set Youri down on her feet and put an arm around Luhan’s shoulders as he addressed the grave, “Jae. Sorry it’s been so long since we came to pay our respects.”

They tried to come every couple of months. Unfortunately, Jae’s grave was set far out of Seoul, and a lengthy drive to get to. It shouldn’t have been an excuse, but with Luhan barely out of his first trimester, Youri unable to sit for long amounts of time in the car without fussing, and Sehun pulling extra shifts at his job after a recent promotion, it had been too long since they’d come out.

The first time Luhan had come to visit Jae’s grave, months after Youri had been born, he’d felt intimidated. He knew he was standing in front of the grave marker for the first man Sehun had ever truly loved, and the one who’d done everything in his power to give Sehun a family. It was intimidating to think that he might not live up to Jae, or even need to.

The feeling had passed a little over time, but not completely.

“Things have been busy,” Luhan said, watching Youri toddle towards the grave.

Sehun agreed, “We’ll be much better about coming to visit. But hey, we’re trying to make up for it by bringing good news.” His hand curved around the side of Luhan’s stomach in indication. “Be happy for us, please.”

“He would be,” Luhan said, squeezing Sehun’s hand. “You know that.”

“Yeah,” Sehun agreed with a grin. “You’re right.”

Luhan sighed when he when he turned back to the grave marker to see Youri reaching for some of the flowers, her eyes obvious caught by the blooms of pink and purple and blue.

“Youri,” he called out, maybe a little too sharply. “Do not touch your sister’s flowers.”

Youri’s hand drew back instantly and she mumbled, “Sorry, baba.”

Luhan beckoned her over and said gently in Chinese, “Come here, Daiyu. Those aren’t for you.” He hoped the use of her Chinese name and the language would give a clear indication that he wasn’t angry with her, simply unmovable on the subject.

When she was pressed to his legs, uncertainty on her face, Sehun put a hand on her head and said firmly, “You have to be very respectful, okay sweetheart?”

Luhan added, “Your big sister is watching over you and protecting you. So be careful with the things that are meant to honor and remember her.”

“Sorry,” Youri said again, her face pressing into the material of Luhan’s pants.

Luhan dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby. Now, go give your sister a bow and a few kind words.”

Youri took confident steps forward to the grave then knelt in the way Sehun and Luhan had showed her. She pressed her forehead to the ground in a deeply respectful bow. Luhan couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the words didn’t seem to be the important part at the moment.

Sehun moved forward after that, kneeling next to Youri to reach out and touch the marker, head bowing as he spoke his appreciation and admiration.

Luhan put a comforting hand on Sehun’s back and together they paid their respects.

Two hours later the sun was low in the horizon, Youri was snoring quietly in her booster seat as they drove back into the heart of Seoul, and Luhan was sleepy with happiness.

“Good day,” Sehun said quietly, his fingers locked around Luhan’s wrist.

Luhan turned to look at him. “Every day is a good day for me with you and Youri.”

Cheekily, Sehun asked, “Even when Youri is throwing tantrums and I’m being unmanageable?”

The amount of love Luhan felt for his family almost made him feel shaky.

“Yes,” he replied, turning slightly so he could see Youri as well as Sehun. “Even then. Because those moments, as trying as they might be, make these moments all the better. But no matter what, I love the both of you very much. We are a family. We have come through the worst of the worst, and we have survived.”

“Because we’re strong,” Sehun said with certainty.

Luhan corrected, “Because we’re unbreakable.”

Sehun hummed his approval a second later, and restated, “Good day.”

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As this is the end, I’d just like to take the time to give a great heartfelt thank you of appreciation to the readers. I’ve truly been overwhelmed by the positive response to this story, and the amount of people willing to dedicate time and emotion to it. Reading about grief and people struggling with it isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but I tried to make it worthwhile in this story, and I hope it felt like that in the end.

As always, I never ask my readers to comment, except for when we finally get to the end. So just this once, please leave a comment. To those of you who comment every chapter, or frequently enough, thank you, thank you. But for my lovely lurkers, this is the time. Speak up. Tell me what you thought overall. All the readers have a full and complete picture of this story now, so tell me, do you like what you see? Was the angst and drama worth pushing through to get to the end?

Seriously, when you readers support my stories, you humble me. This isn’t my job. I’m certainly not getting paid for this. I just write for fun and for myself. So getting a positive response, reading touching comments, and knowing that there are people invested in my characters, means everything. Thank you all so much, and for those of you interested, I’ll be dabbling in Bangtan the next time a story goes up. Look for it soon, and I’ve appreciated every second of this story with my wonderful readers.