Chapter 3 (1/1)
Sehun needed a cigarette in the worst way. It was habit: he walked out of the parlor after work, he reached in his pocket, he pulled out his smokes, and he lit up on the way to his truck. That’s the way it was supposed to go when all was right with the world. Now all his questing fingers found in his pocket was a flattened pack of Doublemint. “Fuck me,” he muttered, confronted with the thought of facing the family unit with no nicotine. He unwrapped a piece and popped it in his mouth, chomping in aggravation. Normally he chewed gum only when he was slinging ink. Mellowed him out, helped him concentrate, because he was usually fiendin’ for his next smoke. But now he needed it all the damn time. He could break down and go for the Nicorette, but if he couldn’t lay down the nicotine by sheer power of will alone, then to hell with it. He would smoke. This time, though, he was determined. Thirty would be knocking on his door soon. He didn’t want to meet fifty on a respirator. Waving goodnight to another one of his artists who was leaving, he hopped in his truck and plucked his cell phone from the cup holder. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see he had six missed calls, but he grumbled all the same. One number he didn’t recognize, and his heart gave a little kick. Luhan? Already? He pushed himself up so he could dig his wallet out of his back pocket and check the number. Nope. Damn. He took a minute to enter him into his contacts. Until that moment, Sehun hadn’t fully realized how eager he was to hear from him. It made him feel a bit like a dirty bastard. But it also set his blood racing, especially after having his hands all over him flawless, pale flesh just a half-hour ago…giving him something he would carry with him for the rest of him life. Ordinarily, he wasn’t one to get revved up by his clients. He was all business. But his apparently wasn’t privy to that fact. He was still sporting a semi, and the tugging weight of his barbell was not helping matters in that area. He could still visualize his big chestnut eyes staring anxiously up at him. Sweet, beautiful Luhan, trusting him for his first experience under the needle. Damn, but for a minute there, he could’ve sworn he was turned on, all bright-eyed and flushed chimry red. Some people did find the experience highly sensual. He was used to people slipping him their numbers after he worked on them, but he was the only one to whom he’d slipped his first. Being “all business” hadn’t stopped him from wanting to strip off his gloves to determine whether Luhan’s skin was as smooth as it looked. He sighed when he checked his other missed calls, the fog of euphoria receding as if a gust of wind chased it out. Two were from his brother. Three were from his sister-in-law. Both Suho and Irene were no doubt ready to ride him because he was late. Jesus, he was only running fifteen or so minutes behind. It was probably a personal record. Since Irene was definitely the lesser of two evils, he called her as he cranked up and sped out of the parking lot. “Sehun, are you coming?” was him greeting. But at least she didn’t sound pissed, only worried. “Yeah, I got tied up at work. I’m on my way.” “Whew. I tried to call you there, but they said you were busy. You don’t take your phone in?” “Nope. Too distracting.” She laughed. “I guess so. Okay. Don’t worry, no one else has made it yet, either. You’ll probably be the first one here.” “For real? That’s a first. I’m becoming more responsible all the time.” “They’re all on their way. Krystal hit traffic and it threw her off about a half-hour. Not sure what’s holding up your mom and dad.” “With those two, you probably don’t want to know.” “Um, yeah. You’re probably right. Anyway, I’m glad you’re on your way. Suho is grumbling. He’s feeling unappreciated.” “Aw, well, tell him welcome to my world.” “I appreciate you! I need to come in and have my belly button re-pierced.” Irene had let the original piercing he’d given her grow up while she was pregnant. “I can’t believe you didn’t use retainers. I gave them to you so I wouldn’t have to torture you again.” “Oh, it’s not so bad. I didn’t think I’d care about having it anymore, but I miss it. Now my stomach looks…plain.” “You don’t have to tell me.” He felt like a freak without his brow rings. Damn conservative family. That was something else about Luhan, he thought as he hung up with Irene. He’d had his streak of “rebellion” tonight, but at his core? He really would fit right in with his relatives. Regardless, he didn’t feel the need to be all uptight around him, or hide who he was. Woohyun had tried to turn him into his fucking pet project, tried to mold him into Mr. Nice Boyfriend. Luhan had always looked at him and seen him, not what he wished he would be. He could zero in on that quality in a person within the first five minutes of knowing them. Damn. It had been good to see him. He was definitely glad he’d gotten his number. Now, if only he had a legitimate excuse to call him. His fascinated gonads weren’t enough. Irene cracked open the front door ten minutes later with her index finger pressed to her lips, presumably so he wouldn’t stomp in and start banging on pots to wake the baby. He stepped in past her and spied his brother kicked back in the recliner, sound asleep with three-month-old Seung snoozing in the crook of his arm. “Isn’t that sweet?” Irene whispered, positively glowing as she eased the door shut behind him. “That’s just…precious.” She smacked his arm. “Oh, you. I’ve waited a long time to see that sight.” Poor girl should’ve seen it long ago. It’d taken them ten years to get their shit together. Which only proved Suho, smart as he was, could be an absolute moron sometimes. Sehun was happy for them, even if it meant he had to watch them moon all over each other every time he came around. His nephew was a really cute kid, though. He looked forward to imparting all sorts of useless knowledge to him as the years passed. “I can’t wait for the right guy or girl to get their hands on you, Hun. It’s going to be so much fun to watch.” He scoffed and followed Irene into the kitchen, where some heavenly aromas were drifting from the oven and the stove. “If you think you’ll ever see me domesticated, think again. And tell me that’s shrimp manicotti I smell. Holy crap.” “It is. Suho’s favorite.” “Mine too.” “Great!” Irene grabbed a Monster out of the fridge and slid it toward him. It was something else he needed to cut back on, but what the hell. He could only deal with exorcising one vice at a time. “I swiped your mom’s recipe, but I bet it won’t be as good as hers. And don’t change the subject. I’ll see you domesticated.” she flashed him a maddening grin. “It’s only a matter of time. I’m totally going to say ‘I told you so’. Get ready.” He perched on a barstool and popped the tab, fidgeting because her words were hitting too close to home given the thoughts he’d been entertaining about a certain blonde. Thoughts he had no business allowing to take hold. It actually occurred to him that maybe Sehun should have invited him. The whole evening would’ve been far less excruciating. But how weird would that have been? Their voices must’ve roused Suho, who ambled into the kitchen with Seung still sleeping in his arms. “Look at that old bastard,” Sehun exclaimed. “Can’t even stay awake for his own birthday party.” As was becoming more commonplace of late, Suho ignored him. “You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep,” he said to his wife, planting a kiss on her forehead as she took the baby from him. Seung’s tuft of black hair was sticking straight up. It was friggin’ adorable. He lifted his head from his mom’s shoulder and looked around with big, dark eyes, then gave a drowsy yawn. “But you two looked so comfortable,” Irene said. “And we didn’t get much sleep last night.” “Spare me, please,” Sehun muttered. Irene rolled her eyes toward him. “Because of the baby.” “Whatever. Hey, Su, you wrecked our plan,” he said, trying again. “We were all going to get him around you and marvel at the rampant cuteness all night.” Suho laughed in the middle of a yawn and stretch. “Sorry to spoil the fun. Should’ve taken a picture.” Irene winked at Sehun and grabbed the digital camera off the kitchen island with her free hand, brandishing it at Suho. “Oh, I did. Several in fact.” He shook his head at the ceiling. “Of course you did. You’re deadly with that thing.” “I can’t help myself.” Suho looked at Sehun. “I think Seung’s every living moment since birth has been recorded or documented in some capacity. Poor kid, we’ll have plenty to torture him with when he’s sixteen.” “As if having you for a dad won’t be torture enough.” Suho sent him a withering look as Irene gasped and spoke to Seung in mock indignation. “Did you hear Uncle Sehun? He’s saying mean things about your daddy.” She smothered the baby’s face with kisses. Oh, sweet Jesus. Here comes the baby talk. It was on the tip of Sehun’s tongue to say he was going to step out for a smoke. And then he remembered. Fuck. You could still use it as an excuse, he thought. He hadn’t told anyone he’d quit so he wouldn’t have anyone except himself to answer to in case he failed. “Sehun, you look great,” Irene said suddenly. That brought his head up. “Really.” “Hey,” Suho chimed in. “You could almost pass for normal.” “Don’t get used to it,” Sehun grumbled, tugging at his long sleeves. Goddamn, but he needed a cigarette. He shouldn’t have let himself think about it a minute ago. He could practically feel the shape of the cylinder on his tongue. He could taste it. Could feel his lungs expanding with sweet, soothing, blissful… Carcinogenic smut! Stop it, dammit!