nine (1/1)

[a/n: this post is gonna have a lot of Luhan so bear with me ok hahah and SUBSCRIBERS, THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU, REALLY. I MEAN IT.] Opening his eyes to a familiar yet strange ceiling, it felt like a dream for second, that he’s back to his home where he grew up at, that he’s back to his own comfortable room, and it wasn’t a dream at all. It took him a moment to adjust his mind that he’s back to his Mandarin speaking homeland. He had nothing with him when he left Seoul, other than a luggage filled with his necessities. He hadn’t eaten anything since the day before when he arrived, and there was no food at home, obviously. He got up on his bed and stared at the half closed curtains with rays of sunlight seeping through, it had really been a while. Everything seemed exactly the same since the day he left home, just that his parents were no longer here. His father wouldn’t be sitting at the dining table sipping on his morning coffee while holding the newspaper in his hands and his spectacles sliding a little off from his nose bridge; his mother wouldn’t be loading breads and a jar of peanut butter in front him stuffing her precious only son, with the most satisfied smile plastered on her face when he eats hungrily, without realizing how much his mother loved to watch him eat. He hadn’t really missed his parents when he headed to Seoul to further his studies. He refused to. Independence, to be left alone, to experience a brand new environment, were his reasons why he left for Seoul. Being the only child wasn’t all about abundant love showered upon him, most of the times arguments erupted. Arguments between his parents. Between his parents and him. It was pretty much a chaos back then. He wanted to do whatever he wants. Avoid annoying naggings. Freedom. Finally when he reached eighteen he successfully persuaded his parents. Ever since the car accident his parents got involved in, he almost never came home. Or just, never. He didn’t want to be reminded about how much he had made his parents tear up, how often they would argue over insignificant matters, how badly he was sick of this place. However everything seemed as though it just happened yesterday, as though it was just yesterday when he stood at his house door bidding his parents goodbye, with that exact same luggage in his hand. Despite carving words of regret onto his bones, it was too late, everything was. ♦ He dressed himself up casually and headed out to grab something for breakfast. Even though it had only been a few years, the town he lived in had quite of a change. But that little stall which was famous of its steamed buns stuffed with red bean paste remained. Luhan was glad. Eyeing that little stall with white hot steam rushing toward the sky, he paced up a bit. Wasn’t sure if the stall owner remembers him, Luhan smiled at her noticing the owner became so much older compared to the last time they’ve seen each other. He picked the buns out habitually, leading the owner to recognize him. “Are you Mrs. Lu’s son?” The lady in her sixties widened her eyes in shock as she handed the buns to Luhan. “Yes, Zhang-jie. It’s been a while and nice to see you again,” Luhan smiled while handing over the bag of freshly steamed buns. Zhang-jie, was how his mother called the stall owner, even though Luhan shouldn’t call her by that but the lady insisted to be called that way, instead of being called an “aunty”. “Aiyy when did you come back? Look how handsome you’ve become! How’re you?” The aged lady held onto Luhan’s forearm in delight, her expressions changed in a flash, immediately realizing that it was her first time to see Luhan since his parents’ death. Luhan wasn’t sure what kind of answers should he give, he couldn’t possibly say he’s doing fine because of his parents’ death and his mother was friends with Zhang-jie; yet he couldn’t say he’s not well because that’s just not something you tell people who haven’t seen you for a long time. He only returned her with a wider smile, reassuring her that he’s okay. Not fine, not bad, but okay. He wished to stay longer to speak to her, but it was awkward enough, and it would retrieve painful memories. He faked to take a glance at his watch, pretending that he was in a rush, bidding goodbye to the lady and quickly paced off. ♦ He swung the store room door open and a black case lay in front of him. His cello. He stared at it for a good few seconds before taking it out. It felt so much lighter now compared to the last time he held it. Unzipping the black cello case the glossed wooden smell came gushing out, Luhan set up his cello and started tuning the strings. He could have forgotten about the correct notes, but having himself back to the corner where he used to play that old and scarred cello, he just did the tunings without having to think. The first few strokes sounded awful as he tried to remember which piece he felt like playing. When moments later he got used to his old pal, the mellow and beautiful sound of cello floated around the room as he started to perform his favorite Suite No. 1. It must have been a long while since the house was filled with exchanges of oxygen and carbon dioxide, and the breathtaking, but rather sorrowful cello tune. Memories were racing in his mind while he immersed himself in the emotions of the piece. And Sehun came into mind. He thought he would be able to forget. Forget about Seoul, forget about his virus, forget about his job, forget about his small and damp dorm, forget about Sehun. The corner of his heart missed Sehun a hell lot, quietly persuading himself to contact Sehun. Irritated by his own thoughts, Luhan suddenly stopped his cello strokes, causing a sudden silence in the house with the sound of his cello lingering at the corner of the walls. He turned on his phone which was lying silent on the table for the whole week.  1085 missed calls.391 unread text messages.  His heart paused a millisecond for every text message he went through.  “Luhan.”“Answer my call.”“Why are you keeping your phone turned off?”“I’m sorry if I’ve done something wrong, but if you won’t tell me, I won’t know!”“I’m sorry.”“I miss you so much, xiaolu.”“Where are you?”“I don’t know what happened, but keep in mind that I love you a lot.”  And the text messages went on and on, Luhan hesitated if he should return Sehun’s call. Instincts told him that he should. Because if he didn’t, he would be an ass to Sehun for leaving Sehun’s emotions and tears hanging half way. For causing Sehun being eaten up by guilt without even knowing what exactly he did. Luhan dialed number 1 as Sehun still remained in the speed dial. It was picked up after only half a ring. He knew, Sehun had been waiting for this. He had been guarding his cell and keeping it with him all the time, just in case Luhan calls. Sehun’s voice sounded rather groggy and coarse. But he was nervous. “I… I miss you,” Sehun’s voice cracked and sobs could be heard in between his breath. Luhan kept quiet, while trying to hold back his tears. His chin trembling, his nose turned sour and his eyes were sore. He almost clicked on disconnect as his tears were streaming down and dripping off his chin, he didn’t want Sehun to hear him cry. But he couldn’t. He was about to say something, just that words clogged up in his Adam’s apple. He had so much to say, he had so much to tell Sehun, so much to share with Sehun, but he knew he couldn’t as of now. He couldn’t pretend nothing happened between the both of them. There was a moment of silence on the phone, although no words were spoken, they could feel each other through the invisible connection over the Yellow Sea and miles of roads separating both of them. “I’m sorry.” Sehun broke the silence, apologizing for the unknown reason or some reasons he made up himself. Sehun’s heart was strangled and his lungs as though holes were poked. He felt horrible. He had been screwing up, spilling drinks on customers, staring into the blank, unable to focus; he just couldn’t work anymore. He quit. He had been hiding under his blanket since he stopped working. Crying. Throwing himself on his bed. Frustrated. “I’m sorry, too. Sehun. I’m sorry. But I –” Luhan paused, as his chest started to tense up, as though his lungs decided to shut down. He couldn’t breathe. He fisted his shirt while pressing his hand onto his chest, attempting to suck in air to fill up his lungs. “Luhan? You alright?” Sehun’s voice on the other side of the line could merely be heard, as Luhan slowly lowered his arm which was holding the phone. He shut his eyes not sure what he was trying to control, his breathing, or to keep himself conscious. Luhan collapsed onto his bed, still conscious, but in lots of pain. Breathing real hard, Luhan stayed there with his small body curled up on his side. Again, he heard a very soft muffled voice over the phone. “Luhan? Luhan are you there?” He lifted up his arm to his ear, while tears were rolling into his hair like pearls, his eyes twitched while the pain struck both his head and his chest. “I’m fine. I – I’ll call you back.” Immediately hanging up the phone, Luhan curled up even more into a ball, his spinous processes on his back protruding through this tee shirt, freezing cold toes curled up. His lungs were wheezing. The room was silent. He was suffocating.And he never return the phone call as he promised. It was another beginning of confusing messed up battle for both Sehun and Luhan.