exo; various pairings; pg-13
this is what happens after.
a/n: yeah...gonna throw myself off a cliff, bye.
|It’s not really a surprise when Lu Han hears the front door being slammed open from where he’s sitting comfortably in front of the TV. To be honest, he has kind of expected it since his phone vibrated almost half an hour ago, a short ‘We’re in M’ from Wu Fan sitting in his inbox. He sent a text to the others asking them where they were placed, and amongst the ten, one person never did reply.|
And to be very honest, that person is the reason he is sitting in front of the TV, the volume reduced to almost minimum, his fingers busy (unconsciously) solving the Rubik's cube for the eighth time.
So when the door is slammed open and Lu Han turns towards the front porch and finds Sehun kicking off his shoes with a sour expression, Lu Han simply raises an eyebrow—and lifts it higher when the younger boy meets his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.
“What,” Lu Han breaks the silence uncertainly after a long pointed silence.
Sehun’s frown deepens. “Nothing,” he replies offhandedly, shoving his socks into his sneakers before he walks quietly towards the bedroom they share, leaving his shoes unarranged.
Joonmyun enters then, exhaustion lining his face. He bends down to take the shoes the youngest had left, and puts them silently back on the shoe rack. He catches Lu Han’s stare just as he's taking his own shoes off, and sighs heavily. “Talk to him, will you?” Joonmyun gestures towards the door which Sehun disappeared through with his chin. “I don’t think he takes separation well.”
Separation. Lu Han takes the remote control from the coffee table and turns the TV off.
Sehun is, quite expectedly, lying on his bed with the back of his hand pressed against his eyes. Lu Han closes the door quietly and pads across the room towards the edge of the bed, sitting down without a sound. He knows Sehun notices his presence, because the younger shifts slightly to make some space for him and reaches out. Lu Han takes his hand and crawls towards him, tucking his chin against the joint between Sehun’s neck and shoulder and lets the other boy press his mouth against the crown of his head.
“They put us in the same fucking teaser,” Sehun suddenly says, his voice annoyed, and Lu Han must admit that he feels relieved at his tone, because at least he knows how to make Sehun less mad, more than he knows how to makes Sehun less sad.
“We look pretty together,” Lu Han shrugs, or at least tries to in his position between Sehun’s arms. “I don’t blame them, to be honest.”
Sehun huffs, his chest rising as he does. “Hyung.”
Lu Han giggles, and Sehun chuckles along with him, his tone light. It’s as if he hasn’t come back home with a frown, as if they are simply cuddling after a long separated practice session, as if they have all the time in the world.
But they don’t. Lu Han knows this, and Sehun does, too, and it’s painful.
“Two thousand kilometers, huh,” Sehun says, his arms around Lu Han tensing.
Lu Han chuckles. “You actually remember it by heart. I am impressed,” he teases, but when the younger doesn’t respond, he sighs. “We have technology, Sehun-ah.”
“But,” Sehun replies almost immediately, and his voice is stern. Hard. He doesn’t take separation well. “It’s different.” He pulls Lu Han closer by the waist, his voice muffled against Lu Han’s hair. “It’s not you.”
And Lu Han understands, really. It’s not like he isn't affected by it either—they’ve been together since practically forever, and it’s going to be hard for him, too. He has gotten way too used to Sehun’s teasing smile when he misses a step, Sehun’s grin when he offers him a water bottle, Sehun’s amused laugh when Lu Han frowns as he finds it empty, Sehun’s comforting touches when he’s homesick, Sehun’s shy hug when he misses him, Sehun’s needy kiss when they’ve practiced for too long and their bones feel like breaking apart—
Sehun’s, Sehun’s, Sehun’s. Sehun.
Lu Han inhales Sehun’s scent; the stench of sweat, the smell of sun, the fragrance of his soap, more, more, more. “Yeah,” he whispers against Sehun’s skin. It’s humid, and soft, and hot, and he wonders if Sehun knows how much he. He. “I know.”
Sehun doesn’t reply.
(The management tells them to move in with their respective groups, and Sehun doesn’t look at him when he arrives at the practice room after putting all his belongings in his new room—he’s too busy joking around with Baekhyun, laughing all over Jongin’s lap.
Lu Han doesn’t mind. Really. Sehun is coping, adapting. They have to, eventually. And Lu Han is the older one. If there’s someone who has to be stronger, despite Sehun’s height and muscle and everything, it’s him.
So he reaches for Minseok’s fingers and tangles them together, and doesn’t turn to Sehun during the whole practice.)
|Somehow, Zitao manages to sneak his way out of Wu Fan’s grip and sits quietly beside Baekhyun in the van with EXO-K’s members, the other boy’s head lolling slightly against his shoulder. It’s not that hard, really; Joonmyun is a much softer leader than Wu Fan that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash when he climbs into their van, and as the day of their debuts (separately, he notes) is approaching, it is very easy to convince Sehun to switch places with him.|
Maybe it’s because they have it just as hard. Maybe it’s because Sehun understands.
The road is almost empty. Kyungsoo is humming to the song on his iPod, occasionally throwing Zitao a grin whenever their eyes meet, Joonmyun is talking with the driver (probably to keep him awake), and Jongin is watching the passing lights without a word, eyes flickering, Chanyeol drooling all over his shoulder.
Thankfully, as Zitao stretches his neck to look at the boy sleeping beside him, Baekhyun doesn’t drool. He reaches up and swipes a lock of hair out of Baekhyun’s face, and there’s a slight frown between his eyebrows. He smoothens it with a poke of finger, and Baekhyun giggles.
Zitao lets his lips curved into a smile. “Not sleeping?”
“I was,” Baekhyun admits, scooting closer to Zitao’s body, his fingers curling around Zitao’s elbow, “Your creepy touches kind of woke me up.”
“Sorry,” Zitao murmurs.
Baekhyun straightens up and looks at him with sleepy, incredulous eyes, though there’s a slight amused smile on his face. “I’ve never said I didn’t like it, did I?”
Zitao shrugs. “I woke you up.”
“Good, then,” Baekhyun replies, mimicking his shrug with a roll of eyes, his smile turning into a grin. “We only have like, what, one more day together? I can’t afford spending it sleeping.”
Zitao’s body tenses at that. Baekhyun seems to notice, because his grin instantly disappears, and he gives Zitao a contemplating stare. It’s the kind of stare that Zitao is not really fond of, because the only times Baekhyun has it is when he’s upset and is about to stop talking for the next few days, or when he’s in deep thought.
A deep thought that, Zitao is sure, will make him upset.
Baekhyun gives him a solemn smile and turns slightly to press his head against the window, eyes closing. Zitao looks forward, watching the road, and doesn’t miss the way Baekhyun’s fingers move down towards his, interlocking.
Wu Fan narrows his eyes at him when they meet at the elevator, but Lu Han elbows him and tells Zitao to go back to their dorm before midnight, and pulls the leader out with him when they reach their floor.
Zitao stays on his feet, and when he looks to his side, Baekhyun is smiling.
He doesn’t go in. Joonmyun tells him that he’s going to tell Wu Fan to pull the stick out of his ass and offers him to stay the night, but he shakes his head and refuses politely. They stand at the empty corridor instead, with Zitao leaning against the wall opposite of Baekhyun, his eyes on the tips of the other boy's shoes. Baekhyun shifts from one foot to another, his sneakers squeaking against the floor. “It’s late,” he prompts.
So, he wants to ask challengingly, but that sounds too childish even for his own head, so he settles with a quiet, “Yeah.”
Baekhyun’s hand is around his wrist in no time, and when he looks up in surprise, Zitao feels a press of lips against his. It’s gentle, and deep, and soft, and Zitao is hit with the urge to cry. He closes his eyes and feels his heart constrict, his throat tighten.
Baekhyun pulls away just as quick as he kisses him, and his eyes are bright. He doesn’t have a smile on his face. “Goodnight, Zitao.”
He backs away, turning towards the door, and doesn’t wait for a reply before he closes the door with a soft thump. Zitao looks at the door for many moments and sighs, “Goodnight, hyung.”
(Baekhyun’s eyes are sad when Zitao helps him with his Chinese during the introduction in their showcase in China, and despite the smile, despite the loud cheering, despite the fact that he is home, Zitao thinks he’s breaking apart.)
|Wu Fan doesn’t even resist the tug on his wrist, pulling him towards the bathroom as soon as he is done arranging the shoes the others left messily on the floor in the rack, and lets Yixing grip his wrist so tight it might bruise without saying anything.|
He still doesn’t say anything when Yixing kicks the door closed and pushes him against the tile wall of the shower, his back digging painfully against the shower tap, turning it on. Cold water falls upon them, and Wu Fan wants to complain about how uncomfortable it is because his shirt is clinging against his body, but Yixing pushes him and digs his fingers against his side, taking his breath before he can say anything.
The kiss is almost sloppy. It’s more like a need of contact rather than actual kissing, and Wu Fan is almost taken aback when Yixing shoves his tongue into his mouth, a harsh swipe against the roof of his mouth, because Yixing is soft-spoken and shy and he always makes a funny gurgled noise every time Wu Fan bites the swell of his bottom lip.
Almost, but Wu Fan thinks he understands what this is about, where the desperation comes from, so he raises his hands and takes hold of Yixing’s neck, angling his face with his thumb, a press against his shoulder to slow him down.
And slow down Yixing does; he pulls away a little and places his forehead against Wu Fan’s, his breath ragged and choppy, their damp hair tangled. Wu Fan caresses the vein on the side of Yixing’s neck with his thumb, trailing a gentle kiss on the bridge of his nose. The water has turned warm, and Wu Fan can feel the tip of his fingers starting to wrinkle.
“I can’t do this,” Yixing says.
Wu Fan opens his eyes and looks at him. Yixing is not looking at him, his eyes darting to somewhere above his right ear. “Don’t say that.”
“We’re not fucking home-grown,” he growls, his voice choked, and despite the angry tone, Wu Fan can hear the disappointment swirling behind it. “We’re not fucking enough for them. I can’t—“
“Hey,” Wu Fan gently cuts him, tilting his chin upwards, “hey, open your eyes.”
Yixing does, hesitantly, his eyes pained and hurt and Wu Fan gets it. He gets that everything those people said, intentionally or not, has affected him. Affected all of them, really, but Xiumin and Chen aren't in their homeland and neither Tao, Lu Han, nor Kris have been trying to make it big in the industry since they were fourteen.
The noise of water hitting the tiles fills the silence. Wu Fan doesn’t say anything, his thumb moving in a pattern against the skin of Yixing’s cheek, his eyes straight to his.
“It hurts,” Yixing finally breaks the silence, his voice barely a whisper. “It hurts so bad.”
There’s a fragility in his tone that makes Wu Fan pulls him closer, makes Wu Fan’s arms circle around his waist tightly, makes him press his forehead against Yixing’s shoulder, murmuring a soft, gentle I know and we’ll be fine and I got you into Yixing’s ear. Yixing lets himself be hugged, embraced, nodding weakly at every word Wu Fan says.
Warmth seeps through the fabric against his shoulder. Wu Fan is not sure if it’s the warm water or tears, but he tightens his hold around Yixing’s body.
(“Do you think we can make it?”
Wu Fan pauses for a moment, but immediately continues drying Yixing’s leg with the towel in his hand. He lifts it and swipes the droplets on Yixing’s thigh. “No.”
He can feel rather than see Yixing’s face fall, and he chuckles, raising his face to let Yixing see his (possibly) wide grin. “I know we can make it,” he muses, “I also happen to know that we can kick their asses on our way to the top.”
Yixing rolls his eyes, but his lips slowly curled upwards as he shoves Wu Fan’s shoulder with his foot. “王八蛋*,” he says, his tone slightly amused. “Way to be conceited, Leader.”
“It’s called confidence,” Wu Fan frowns, faking an offended tone, and Yixing laughs softly, and though it still sounds a bit heavy, Wu Fan knows he’s cheering up. Wu Fan will make sure he’s cheered up. “You love me for that, remember?”
Yixing shakes his head in surrender and lifts his hand to run his fingers across Wu Fan’s wet hair, untangling the locks. “Yeah,” he sighs, “I think I do.”
“And I’m really happy and all that for this lovely moment,” suddenly a voice interrupts them, and Wu Fan falls backward in surprise, a (very manly) yelp escaping his lips when he finds Jongdae standing with a bored look on his face at the door, “but to kick their asses, we kind of need to practice now.”
He leaves as fast as he comes, ignoring Wu Fan’s cries of ‘Learn how to knock next time!’ and Yixing’s laughter.)
1. 以后 means after, 王八蛋 means bastard/jerk. thank you jo, hyerin, and rachael!
2. no, idk how the rooming was arranged during their pre-debut days.
3. these drabbles are about what happen after the members of exo-k and m are announced, after the showcase, and after exo-m’s debut stage (where this happened), respectively.
4. this fic won't exist without my baby sunlit ♥
5. those who can guess where the lj cut texts are from will get a cookie n_n
6. .....still going to throw myself off a cliff.