Entry #19: Young and Beautiful (1/3)

Title: Young and Beautiful

Pairing: Xiumin/Luhan
Rating: R
Word Count: 15k
Warnings: Character death, strong content, mentions of homophobia.
A/N: based on the novel The Great Gatsby. A special thanks to my bff/personal cheerleader, and
to my lovely beta. You're both amazing ♥

“The only obsession everyone wants: ‘love’. People think that in falling in love they make
themselves whole? The Platonic union of souls? I think otherwise. I think you’re whole before
you begin. And the love fractures you. You’re whole, and then you’re cracked open.”
– Philip Roth, The Dying Animal

Every story has a beginning and an ending. Lu Han likes the start of tales, and how the
characters struggles are introduced. He enjoys their internal dialogues and the actual building of
the road the leads to conclusion. He hates, however, reaching the end.

Endings are rarely satisfying. If the story ends on good terms, Lu Han's always left wanting
more, because life doesn't suddenly stop at the perfect kiss. It progresses into a relationship, a
marriage, and eventually a family. The stories only truly end in death. That's a reality ignored
by all, because all humans fear death, and in fiction we want fantasy. In fiction, we live forever;
immortalized by poetry.

Lu Han concludes eventually that there's no good way to end a story. Sometimes he'd give up
on books halfway through. The main character overcomes their struggle, but continues on to
pursue his lover. That's his ending. No need to glorify romance and set ground for more
unreachable ideals. The glamor behind love is not, at all, real. And he knows that because he
has lived through it all.

From fairytale to reality in a blink of an eye, Lu Han's story ends on rainy night, with his bare
feet on a sidewalk.

--

Before he reaches the ending, there's a lot of ground to cover. It started back in a lake house, in
the countryside, where the summers were long and the people were kind. Lu Han was born into
a family of old money, the only son of an eccentric woman obsessed with beauty.

His family owned half the town, their last name was known and treasured by all its residents.
Lu Han was an heir, a prince of sorts, with his own castle and flocks of people crowding him as
he walked to school in the mornings. He didn't understand it back then, their obsession with his
image, and what he represented. He simply did what his mother had always told him. Don't
come too close and just smile.

Quickly it became clear to him that his life would be a lonely one, much like his mother's. She
stayed indoors a lot, drinking, and playing piano. Certain days, someone from the family
business would come over and bring a few documents for her to sign. She never read them, or
even looked at them twice. A waste of her time, she'd call them. Lu Han's mother preferred to
spend her time in front of a mirror, nitpicking her imperfections and covering them up with
layers of make up.

As he grew older, she began to disappear a lot, leaving him alone in the large house with only
shadows to keep him company. She'd always return bandaged and bruised, a new nose or a
facelift. Slowly, she morphed into the image that was only real in her head. It was destructive, it
was clear to him, but he couldn't do much. Only watch.

Lonely children learn how to play by themselves rather quickly. Even during his early teens, Lu
Han would take his football out to the yard and kick it against a wall. It wasn't much fun, but it
was all he had. Far off, at the other side of the lake, a group of boys held a match. Some days,
he'd sit, dip his feet in the water and watch as the game unfolded. He longed to be amidst them,
running, sweating, and covering his pristine white clothes with dirt, but he couldn't. A prince
must be immaculate. You're too fragile, dear.

The sunset was Lu Han's favorite part of living by the lake. He'd always come to the margins
and watch as the water swallowed the sun, absorbing its beautiful colors. The sky darkened, and
Lu Han counted off another day from his clock. Soon, one of his uncles would come and drag
him away to an office. He'd wear a suit and tie, say big words like inflation, surplus, and discuss
the business cycle. His life would become gray, unlike the hues in the sky.

It was in the summer, during one of these sunsets, that one of the boys from the other side of the
lake came by. He wasn't very tall, or exactly graceful. His built was stout, his cheeks were fairly
round and stained with mud. He wore a torn jersey, black shorts, and a pair of sneakers with
holes on them. If one word could define him, it would be simple.

He kicked the football in Lu Han's direction, watching as it rolled on the grass towards his feet.

"So, when you are gonna stop kicking that expensive ball against the wall and actually join us."
When Lu Han didn't react immediately, the boy rolled his eyes. "Or let me guess. You're too
good for us, your highness?"

Lu Han's eyes went wide. "It's not that," he protested, kicking the ball back towards the boy.
"Maybe I'm the one who's not good enough."

The boy paced slowly towards Lu Han, his hands hiding inside the pockets of his shorts. He
wiped the mud away from his hands against them, and extended one towards Lu Han. A smile
stretched over his lips. Lu Han's silly heart beat a little faster. "I'm Minseok. I live just across
the lake. My dad is your mom's gardner. Sometimes I look after her roses."

Lu Han had never seen those mud stained round cheeks, or those welcoming eyes before.
Minseok however, seemed to be familiar with Lu Han's entire existence. He pointed towards the
window behind them. "I can see your window from my house. Up the hill." Minseok turned
towards the sunset, pointing to a hill full of blinking lights. Tiny houses built on broken dreams
and plywood, so fragile and temporary. Unlike Lu Han's brick mansion, which stood on
tradition and isolation. "You always look so lonely. My dad says you have everything. Why are
you so unhappy?"
"Not everything," Lu Han said, and cocked his head, dropping down to the grass to let his eyes
wander into sun sinking on the horizon. Minseok sat beside him, stretching his short legs in
front of him.

"What is it that you don't have, then?" He asked, a little sarcastically. Of course, what could a
prince not have? Lu Han's privileges screamed with a simple look. He was royalty, prim and
proper while Minseok smelled like sweat and dirt. Still, the simple boy from the tiny house up
the hill smiled a lot brighter, in a way Lu Han never could.

Lu Han turned towards him, shrugging slightly. "A friend?"

The sun vanished, and the sky turns a little darker. Yet there was still light in Minseok's eyes. "I
could be your friend. I don't have much to offer, but I'm better at football than that wall."

Lu Han chuckled, allowing himself to really smile for the first time in years. Minseok stood up,
taking the ball from under Lu Han's foot and pulling him up by the arm. "Come on."

The touch spread through Lu Han's veins, burning hot against his cheeks. He allowed himself to
be dragged over to the backyard. His knees trembled when their hands touched. Minseok's
hands were rough against his skin, not careful or absurdly delicate like the nurses who used to
take care of him when he was little. For the first time, Lu Han didn't feel like a porcelain doll.

Minseok kicked dirt at him, staining his bare calves. They ran together, kicking Lu Han's
pristine football around the open area. Their bodies clashing together each time Lu Han
clumsily tried to take the ball away from Minseok's feet. That same night, Minseok invited Lu
Han over for dinner, up the hill and into a completely different world. All the faces bore deep
stares into the back of his head, probably wondering what the prince was doing in the slums. Lu
Han thought the same as Minseok guided him through the alleys, climbing endless flights of
stairs.

They finally reached the tiny wooden house, right on the edge of a cliff, and closer to the top of
the hill. Indeed, Minseok's view of Lu Han's world was absolute. From his front door, he saw
his family's empire spreading from the mansion at the shore and into the town.

"Nice view, isn't it?" Minseok said, standing beside him and admiring Lu Han's playground.
"Better than yours."
Lu Han shook his head. "No way. I like that a lot better. Out here, you see lies. From my
window, I see reality."

The boy beside him snickered. "Sure, little prince."

A woman invited them inside, clearly flustered at Lu Han's presence. She asked Lu Han to
excuse the mess, but to him, the place looked immaculate. The house was cramped, and he
wondered how it was possible for a family of three to actually live there. The kitchen was
smaller than Lu Han's closet, but the smell coming from the stove lured him in.

They shared what little food they had, the best stew Lu Han had ever tasted. He made sure to
tell Minseok's mother that, many times, throughout the dinner. The woman simply brushed his
compliments away, saying that Lu Han probably had had much better food at home.
Professional cooks prepared his meals, but everything seemed tasteless against his tongue.

Lu Han saw it then, what a real family looked like, sitting together at the dinner table and
sharing their day. There were pictures all over the house, smiling faces and tight embraces, a
strong contrast against the cold portraits on the walls of Lu Han's mansion. His was taken just a
few weeks ago. His mother picked a suit from him to wear, and brushed his hair back. She
called him beautiful, and said that she was proud of him, for taking such good of care of his
looks. You must be beautiful, she said. People will revolve around you like moths to a flame.
Burn them with your eyes. Kill them with your charm. No one deserves us. We are meant to be
admired and not touched.

That was it, the passing of a fear embedded so deep he doesn't even feel it. It is written in his
skin. Lu Han was different. He would never have a real family, or love someone the way
Minseok loved his parents. His future was plotted for him from birth. Minseok lived on the real
world, while Lu Han played castle. From afar, the two of them seemed pretty much alike, just
boys playing ball in the yard, falling on the mud and laughing carelessly. However, Minseok
lived on chance and hopes of a bright future while Lu Han simply hid behind the shadows of a
name.

"I'm gonna be a football player, Lu Han," he used to say during their sleepovers. "I'm gonna be
so rich I won't even know what to do with all my money. I'm gonna give my parents a nice
house. On the other side of town. By the lake. My dad will never have to work in the rich
people's gardens again. And you know what else?"

Lu Han rolled his eyes, sinking his face against the pillow because he had heard his story way
too many times already. "What?"

"I'm gonna marry your neighbor, Hyoyeon," Minseok said in a dreamlike tone. "They are gonna
put pictures of us all over the magazines."

Something clicked in Lu Han's head. "Do you love her?"

The question hung in the air between their sleeping bags on Minseok's living room floor. For a
while, all Lu Han could hear was his own shallow breathing. During that entire summer, he had
carried a secret, locked deep inside his heart. He knew it was impossible, a wild fantasy that
could never be. When he closed his eyes at night, it was Minseok's face that he saw, just inches
away from his. In his dreams, they'd lace their fingers together and walk down Main St, heading
towards the edge of the town, where they'd run away and never look back. There's an entire
world out there, bigger than their little town and the lake. Maybe in another universe, Minseok
could dream about a life with Lu Han, and not an illusion amongst the stars.

"I don't know," Minseok finally answered sincerely. "I never thought about it like that. I just
think she's pretty. You know, we'd look good together." Minseok regained his usual
mischievous look, sliding closer to Lu Han on the floor. "Sometimes I wonder if her hair is
actually made of gold."

Lu Han muffled a laugh on the pillow. "We used to play together as kids. I pulled on her hair
once. Nothing but brittle yellow hairs tangled between my fingers."

"Too bad." Minseok wrinkled his nose, turning on his back and gazing towards the ceiling.
"Whatever, we're too young to be thinking about this stuff anyway."

Lu Han sighed. "Everyone falls in love at sixteen. Maybe you're just too immature."

"Like you know anything about love," Minseok groaned, sitting up on his sleeping bag and
letting the covers slide over his bare torso. Lu Han gulped, averting his gaze towards the open
window.
"I love someone," he started, fear burning at the back of his throat, "but that person is too
beautiful for me."

His friend stared at him incredulous, kicking at his legs to bring Lu Han's eyes back to him.
"Bullshit. You're like, the most beautiful person I've ever seen. You're perfect."

The words sting, deep in his chest. Minseok saw beauty as something superficial, just like his
mother. He was far from perfect. Just another broken doll left forgotten on a shelf. To Lu Han,
beauty ran deeper than flawless skin and pouty lips. It was hidden behind every word spoken,
wrapped around every action, and could only be seen at special times. Minseok was the exact
definition of beautiful. Lu Han saw it in every random act of kindness, and comforting touches.
The sole act of reaching out, crossing over to the other side, and offering to be Lu Han's friend
was a true display of beauty. It twinkled in the corners of his eyes whenever he helped Lu Han
up from a fall. It was an inspiration Lu Han would never forget.

Summer ended too quickly, and the two of them bid goodbye to their vacation watching the sun
take away their last day together. The colors appeared to be dull that day, and Lu Han felt like
crying every time his eyes clashed against Minseok's. His feelings were too strong now. He
couldn't hide anymore.

"Well," Minseok said, dipping his bare feet into the lake. "I'll miss hanging out with you every
day like this."

"Me too," Lu Han answered, sounding a bit choked.

Minseok grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at him. "You're not gonna cry, aren't you? We'll
still see each other. This isn't–"

Lu Han shut him up with a kiss, full on the lips. He dug his hands into Minseok's hair, pulling
him closer. The boy remained frozen, unmoving under his touch. He pulled away, a strange
euphoria bubbling in the pit of his stomach. It all faded when Minseok pushed him off, letting
him fall with his back on the dirt. "–the hell are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," Lu Han sobs, letting his fingers brush against his lips, still warm from the friction
against Minseok's.
Minseok screwed his eyes shut, his face twisting in what appeared to be disgust. "I don't think
we should hang out anymore."

Lu Han's heart sunk. He stood up, scrambling towards Minseok. The boy stood still as Lu Han
grabbed him by the shoulders, slowly wrapping his arms around him. "Don't. You're literally all
I have."

"Then learn how to fend for yourself," Minseok answered coldly, pulling away from him. "I'm
gonna go now. Don't follow me."

He made his way back to his little house on the top of the hill and never looked back.

--

Lu Han had learned to ease the pain of a broken heart through music. Once his mother heard
him crying in his room one night, she dragged him up the sleeve towards the music room at
3AM, making him sit beside her by the piano. There, she taught him his first lesson. Showing
him the scales, and carefully letting her wrinkled hands guide his over the keys. Afterwards, the
woman cried against Lu Han's shoulder, revealing to him that she was dying.

"Cancer," she had said between sobs. "It's spreading. Doctors say I'm too weak for treatment. I
decided that it was best for me to spend my last days here. In this house. With my son. Not
locked in some hospital bed." She smiled widely, grabbing Lu Han's hands and holding them
tightly between hers. "Before I die, I want to teach you how to play. Music can be your voice.
No one can take that away from you."

Lu Han was stunned. He didn't know how to react. The emotions came in waves. First, it was
shock, and his hands trembled over the ivory keys. The woman beside him still pressed
forward, whispering the notes on his ear. She told him to feel the notes, not hear them.

"I want you to play for me every day. Even at my funeral," she continued, her hands moving
with a graceful ease through the scales.

That was when Lu Han collapsed, falling on her lap and looping his arms around her waist. "I
don't want you to die."
She shushed him, "Don't be silly, Lu Han. You're young and beautiful. Life will be a breeze for
you. Just like it was for me," she comforts him in her own way. "Everyone dies someday. It isn't
something to be sad about."

For the first time, Lu Han saw his mother for whom she really was. A woman who indulged in
all her privileges and lived extravagantly, because she knew it would all end some day. She
could cheat time, correcting her imperfections with little procedures that made her appear years
younger. But she could not cheat death. Therefore, she'd live life to its full potential, diving in
vanity and not wasting time with trivialities. Behind her eyes, he saw someone utterly satisfied.
She had absolutely no complaints. Her time on this earth was more than enough.

He learned quickly, absorbing as much as he could in their lessons together, and spending all
his free time locked in the music room. When she became too weak to stand, he demanded for
the piano to be brought in her quarters. He'd play for her every day by her sick bed, showing her
how fast he was improving.

Soon enough, he wrote his first song. A ballad composed out of his teenage heartbreak. It went
untitled, until he played it for his mother one night. As soon as the last notes rang in the air, she
chuckled, bidding him to come closer to the bed.

"What was her name?" She asked, her voice hoarse and weak.

Lu Han sighed, taking her cold, thin hand between his. "His name was Minseok."

"The gardener's boy? That's why he’s always moping around the front garden, trying to get a
peek inside. I thought he was just nosy."

Lu Han's jaw dropped. "He was here? Minseok came to the house?"

His mother smiled. "Every day for the past month. I'd always see him when the nurse would
take me for our daily walk at the garden. The kid was very good with my roses. Maybe he could
be good for you too."

Lu Han kissed her forehead, brushing back a few strands of her frail gray hair.

"Maybe."
She closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly, "Play me the song one more time."

He sat down in front of the piano, gathering his music sheets. Before starting, he grabbed a
pencil and scribbled down a title for his piece. A ballad for red roses.

--

Two weeks after that night, his mother past away, and Lu Han was present at the time, sitting
by the edge of the bed as she asked for the nurse to bring her a mirror. The woman hands her a
compact, and his mother takes her last breath staring into her own reflection.

He followed her request, throwing a grandiose party in her honor instead of a grim reception.
She's buried in the family lot, beside his father, whom Minseok had never met. The entire
family gathered in the gardens, dancing and drinking as they remembered his mother. She was
very loved, and Lu Han was regretful that the two of them only really got along just a few
months away from her demise. Just like Minseok's father was passing down his trade, she had
done the same by opening the world of music to him.

Lu Han played at the funeral, and they lowered her casket into the ground by the sound of his
ballad. He broke down in the middle of it, letting desperate tears complement the performance.
Lu Han felt himself being watched, adored by the strangers in the crowd. They all wanted to
share a little bit of his pain, to absorb a piece of this tragedy. At the end, applause erupted from
the audience. It was completely out of tone, but made Lu Han realize what path he actually
wanted to follow in life.

There would be no offices or business suits for him. He'd live and die under the lights of a
stage.

--

When the party was over, Lu Han went down to the shore to watch the sunset. At his usual spot,
he found a shadow already there. The familiar silhouette he had grown to love over a summer.

"I'm so sorry," Minseok said, awkwardly pulling Lu Han into his arms.
Lu Han took his warmth, and the perfume of roses in his wrinkled suit. He didn't want to let go.
"Don't be. She had a happy life."

Minseok pulled away, putting his hands on Lu Han's shoulders. "I want you to have a happy life
too. You deserve it," he said almost in a whisper. "It might be too late, but I just wanted to let
you know that I'm sorry I turned you away. I was an idiot."

Lu Han smiled weakly. "It's okay, Minseok."

"It's not," Minseok whispered fiercely, pulling Lu Han even closer. "You know why? Because
this past month all I could think about was you. You were right, I was too immature."

Lu Han's heart drummed loudly against his ear. Minseok took one more step forward, closing
the distance between them. Their foreheads touched, and Lu Han placed his hands on either side
of the boy's face. Minseok licked his lips before leaning in, brushing them against Lu Han's for
a brief second. It wasn't nearly enough.

Their lips met one more time, with a lot more passion, as they eagerly took in each other's
thirst. Minseok pinned Lu Han against a tree, placing kisses down his neck and into his
collarbones. They breathed loudly in each other's ears, letting soft moans and whispers fill the
pauses. To Lu Han, it all still felt like a dream. Soon, he'd be up, his mother would be alive and
well and Minseok would be a stranger again.

This new reality was easy enough to accept, though. And for these few minutes, Lu Han
thought he could kiss Minseok days on end, until their lips became sore.

The flame is rekindled, but a lot stronger now. Minseok became a major piece in Lu Han's daily
life, walking him to school every morning, and bringing him over for dinner every Sunday
night. They kept their relationship hidden from everyone. Only displaying affection behind
closed doors, or under the hoods of shadows. But the town was small, and the whispers grew
louder over time. Until it reached the ears of Minseok's father.

The man was livid, dragging Minseok over to Lu Han's doorstep in the middle of the night to
confirm the accusation. Fearing the worst, Lu Han denied it all, but Minseok was tired of
running and hiding. He stood up against his father, screaming his feelings towards Lu Han at
the top of his lungs. A small crowd gathered on the street, prying eyes watching as disaster
unfolded right at their front doors. It was bit like live theater, and Lu Han didn't like the part he
was playing in this play. He didn't want his pain to be broadcasted and displayed so publicly.
His grief was his own. His life was his own. No one could understand it other than himself.

Over Minseok's cries, his father could only see hate. He called Lu Han an abomination,
someone deprived of morals and without a single drop of sense. The boy gladly took the blame,
anything that would divert the target away from Minseok. The father accused him of corrupting
his son, and in his final judgment, announced that in order to protect his family from this
sickness, he would send Minseok away.

Lu Han never got a chance to say goodbye. He never waved at the train platform as Minseok
embarked on a journey away from this twisted, broken town. Instead, it's Lu Han who waves
them all away from the window of the train. He had decided to move to the city and pursue his
career as a musician. They could never take music away from him. Within his hands, he had the
power to tell a thousand stories, including his own. He'd play in the most prestigious stages, all
over the world. No one could stop him.

That day, he said goodbye to his childhood.

--

“Congratulations, boss! I knew you’d win. What is it? Your third Grammy?”

Lu Han leans his forehead against the cold window of the car, the city lights shift over his
closed eyelids.

“Fourth.”

The man at the drivers seat chuckles in a proud way, and turns up the radio. A soft piano
melody fills the constricted space of the car. The momentum of the song grows slowly before it
seizes, and a hushed male voice begins to sing. He opens his eyes for a second, looking at the
gold award between his hands. Best Pop Record, for the song Young and Beautiful. The same
record now flooding through his ears from the car speakers.

It certainly deserves all the recent praise it has gotten. The song is his masterpiece, and in some
ways, a tale of his own life. The arrangements are all created from Lu Han’s longing, and the
lyrics perfectly penned down to represent all his innermost emotions. Of course, it’s all
concealed through a little bit of romance and poetry.

Lu Han’s life had become one big spectacle, a young protégé, capable of creating the most
beautiful pieces. He gets his start just a few weeks shy of eighteen, assisting in the score for a
movie. His name begins to buzz around the circles of the business, and soon enough, he gets
another invitation from a prestigious director to write a song for his upcoming motion picture.
The song wins Lu Han a Grammy and an Oscar, one of the youngest artists in the history to
ever receive such important achievements.

Still, none of these golden figures meant much to him. In exchange for recognition, Lu Han
now has to deal with the hungry gazes that follow him day and night. There are vultures hiding
in every corner, flashing their cameras at his face at every opportunity, and invading his private
space. In some day, it does well to Lu Han’s vanity to know that there are people all over the
world wondering about the most trivial aspects of his life. Everyone wants piece of him, craving
to bask in his light as he shines brighter than any star.

For a while, it’s enough to be loved and adored by so many. As the years pass, and Lu Han’s
success only grows bigger, a large gap begins to widen inside his frozen heart. It becomes the
inspiration behind his latest masterpiece, and he vows to keep singing until the message spreads
through the entire surface of the globe.

So that whenever he is, he’ll know that Lu Han still remembers.

--

After so much praise, Lu Han takes a break from work, deciding to stay away from the spotlight
for a while to write a new album. With all the proceeds from his latest hits, he buys an
apartment in the city. It’s a beautiful loft, with large windows overlooking a park, a quiet refuge
in the middle of the cement jungle. Originally, he had wanted to purchase the penthouse, but he
came too late, another buyer outbid his offer. Lu Han isn’t one for ostentation, though. He
settles for the smaller flat one floor below, and allows the place to become his home.

Even with the insanity of celebrity life, Lu Han manages to make a friend, just one. Yixing is a
fellow songwriter, but a bit less known to the general public. However, every teenager in this
city sings along to his words these days. He’s the mastermind behind most pop songs in the
charts. He sells his work to the labels so that untalented pretty faces can record less than ideal
versions of his songs. Yixing is not one for prestige or attention, he prefers to hide in the
shadows, sending in his mixes through the mail from his private studio and never actually
meeting with any of the artists who buy his work. He’s simply known by the penname Lay, a
masked mystery to the industry.

Lu Han likes to think that he understands Yixing better than anyone. They spend a lot of time
together, playing around in the studio, or sharing drinks in vacant bars. It’s Yixing who helps
Lu Han move in to his new space, carrying in his personal objects with great care. He assists his
friend in placing all his awards in a top shelf in the living room, hanging all his gold records
along the walls, and filling an empty picture frame with a self-taken blurry cellphone click of
the two of them. It’s the only picture in Lu Han’s place.

By nightfall, Lu Han has a drink by the window, watching as a small crowd gathered in the
street. Paparazzi try to close in on him, extending their lenses up to the window. Lu Han had
them tinted so dark, barely any light shines through. This way, no one could pry into his private
life.

Yixing joins them once he grows bored out of the movie playing on the classic channel. He
pours himself a dose of Lu Han’s bourbon and follows his gaze down to the street.

“What do you feel when you see them?” Yixing suddenly asks, leaning against the window.

“I feel superior,” he answers honestly, placing his fingertips on the glass and pointing towards a
group of girls wearing T-shirts with his face spread over them. “I was born to be a sun, a center,
and people always gravitate towards me.” He sighs, shaking his head. “They come and go.
Soon, they’ll forget me. Find other pretty face to worship. No one really stays.”

Yixing shrugs. “That’s celebrity life for ya.”

“Every year I grow older, and I know I don’t have forever.” Lu Han walks towards the living
room, looking through the framed golden records on the wall. “How many more hits do you
think I have in me? Two? Maybe three?”

His friend scoffs, ridiculing Lu Han’s melancholy. “One hundred, if you want. It’s not over
until you say so.”
Lu Han looks at him earnestly, seeing that his friend would never truly understand his
predicament. Yixing doesn’t write with a purpose, he writes to make money. Lu Han has a
message to display, and a lost soul to find. But he’s beginning to think that his muse doesn’t
want to be found, or wishes to stand beside him under the spotlight. This façade will soon end,
and he’ll still be alone.

The clock ticks. No one has forever. “Maybe until I’m twenty-five,” he thinks out loud.

“By then you’ll have enough money to hide off in a castle somewhere in Europe. Surrounded
by servants. An actual prince,” Yixing mocks, knowing about his upbringing. Lu Han throws a
cushion at him, and they laugh at each other’s silliness.

It’s moments like these that give Lu Han hope about his looming future.

--

The press feeds on weakness. The hungry eyes swallow each and every drop of sweat, every
flush of skin, and all the imperfections. Cameras eat up the pieces, displaying your insecurities
worldwide, and there's nowhere to hide. For as long as you run, there will always be someone
following close behind.

Lu Han's knuckles turn white against the sofa of the waiting room. He's about to give another
mindless interview to a talk show host. Be charming, they said to him, but whatever you do,
don't be yourself.

The Lu Han the media knows is a mask. The real one died years ago, on the shores of a lake
near a small town, buried along with the ashes of his mother and the tears in the eyes of his lost
lover. From then on, each and every note he played on his piano became an ode to them. The
only two people, other than himself, he had truly loved in his entire existence. The mask hides
the anger under his skin, it conceals a truth which still lingers behind his eyes when he goes to
bed every night.

Every day that passes breaks away a piece of the mask, revealing the weakness within Lu Han.
He fights against it, trying his best to patch it back together with fake smiles and displays of
charm. It's futile, because soon enough, the entire world would see him naked and exposed for
who he really is; a bitter man with a secret.

So why not end it now?

They call his name, and he follows a woman with a clipboard as she leads him towards the
studio. The audience goes wild when he steps on the stage, in front of the hungry cameras who
focus on him almost immediately. The host greets him with a firm handshake, and Lu Han
pretends to be happy to be there. In a way, he really is, because this would be the last interview
he would ever give.

He had always hated those melodramatic artists who hid inside studios and didn't talk to anyone
for years. The ones who concealed their faces behind large sunglasses, and believed that their
music should speak for itself, and that their beauty was a distraction. Now, he understands
them, and feels that it’s time for him to follow on those footsteps. If his lost lover wanted to
find him, he should have done so a long time ago. Lu Han needs to accept the fact that he's
alone, and will die repeating those same bitter notes on his piano.

The interview begins casually as Lu Han talked about his writing process and his inspirations
for his new album. The host congratulates him on his latest award, and Lu Han brushes it off
charmingly, thanking the man and the audience for all their support.

And that was his cue.

"You know," he starts with a dreamy smile, eyes getting lost somewhere over the curious eyes
and the cameras, "my whole life I only had two big inspirations, the ones responsible for getting
me out of bed in the morning and making it to the studio to write more songs. One of them is
gone forever, which was my mother, the reason why I'm even a musician to begin with. The
other–"

He adds a pause for effect as he feels a million gazes piercing through him. The entire world is
watching, and maybe he is too.

"The other is a lost friend, someone who was really close to me, but who was ripped out of my
life. My skin still misses his warmth, and every part of me aches because I know he's out there.
I know he can still listen." The studio was silent, as if every soul present was holding its breath.
Maybe they were waiting for a name, something Lu Han would never give. That part of the
secret is his, and only his. "So, I play these notes over and over, hoping that it will lead him
back to me."

--

Everything crashes, and Lu Han is forced into isolation. The reveal of his heart in that interview
had made him soar, placing him as the most interesting person of the hour. The ones who were
suckers for romance fell to their knees in front of him, wanting to know every part of his story.
The backlash came when he announced he wouldn't be speaking to the press anymore. He fires
his agent, and decides to take charge of his own career for now on. He rents a studio just a few
blocks away from his new apartment, and hires Yixing to help him work on his new music.

The last album he would ever write.

And it had to be perfect.

That Sunday afternoon, Lu Han locks himself in the studio, alone. He stretches his hands over
the keys of his piano, trying to pour his conflicted heart into melody, but all of it feels lifeless
and overdone. After years of hiding behind grandiose orchestrated songs, he now wishes to strip
away all the excess, pealing everything away until he reaches the skeleton of his compositions.
The task isn't as easy as it sounds, because the simplest melodies are the hardest ones to make.
He tries to think of summer, dirt, and the sunlight reflection on water. The smell of his mother's
favorite perfume, the way the silk of her dresses felt against his fingertips, and the warmth of
her embraces. He recalls his back being pinned against a large pine tree, the insecure and chaste
lips pressing against his own, and that beautiful skin covered with sweat.

Eventually, his fingers begin to flow easily.

On his way back home from the studio, he finds a gentleman observing the work of a group of
men who were carrying wrapped furniture and large boxes inside his building. He is short,
extremely thin, with the most exquisite cheekbones Lu Han had ever seen. He takes off his
sunglasses, revealing piercing brown eyes, who examine each piece that passes by him. That
one goes to the living room, he says, watch this chair because it's worth more than your house.
The worker apologizes meekly, walking slowly as he carries a large leather armchair on his
back.
Whoever owns all these expensive pieces has absolutely no taste. Lu Han could spot new
money with a blink of his eye. They were all famous in the interior design circle. Tacky decor
that only serves for ostentation. The kind of thing to be placed in the corner of a room, just so
when a visitor comes over, one could say I own it. Lu Han hates that kind of people.

He stands in the sidewalk, watching as the truck is unloaded. He sees a few art pieces he likes,
but other than that, everything is just too much. Too much glam and not enough substance. It
was like looking at a mirror.

"Hello." The skinny man appears out of nowhere, extending his skinny hand in Lu Han's face.
"My name is Jongdae. It's very nice to finally meet you."

Lu Han ignores the hand, giving the man a small smile instead, "Are you going to be my new
neighbor?"

The man chuckles, shaking his head and turning his gaze back to the workers. "No, I'm just
helping a friend move."

"Then where's your friend?" Lu Han asks curiously, wishing to lay his eyes on the owner of all
those tacky things. He pictures an older man, who wears three-piece suits every day, and drives
a vintage car. Maybe someone who had earned his wealth in the oil rings down south. Or even a
drug smuggler.

"You never heard of Xiu Min?" Jongdae's eyes almost pop out of his face. "Who in this town
hasn't heard of Xiu Min?"

Lu Han raises an eyebrow. "Sorry. The name doesn't sound familiar."

"Maybe we should keep it that way." Jongdae clears his throat awkwardly. One of the workers
walks between them carrying a large vase already decorated with a dozen blood-red roses. Their
smell seep into Lu Han's nostrils. His pulse quickens for a minute. "Just kidding. I'm sure Xiu
Min will extend you an invitation to his next soiree."

Lu Han blinks a few times, shaking that strange feeling away. His gaze follow the roses until
they disappear inside the elevator door.
"Tell your friend not to bother with invitations," Lu Han says with purpose, digging through his
pockets to find his keys. "There are no closed doors in this world for me."

He pushes all his limits, playing until the muscles in his hands go sore. Yixing always leaves
when Lu Han comes obsessive, claiming that he couldn't participate in this part of the process.
He doesn't try to stop him, because as a fellow artist, he understands Lu Han's need to fight
against exhaustion, dying with his hands on the keys, bleeding over them if necessary.

At around midnight, Lu Han pours himself a drink. He struggles with the opening track for his
new album, trying to find the right words to tell his tale. It mirrors his will to find an ending to
his story. However, Lu Han himself couldn't pinpoint his own intentions, and as the hours pass,
the hollow ache in his chest becomes amplified. There's no ending to his story. He's a hamster
on a wheel.

Ire pulses through him and he throws a glass against the wall, watching it shatter and wishing
he could do the same. He cries, alone in the studio, desperate tears streaming down his face. He
hadn't cried in years, as he had always locked his pain away in a vault inside himself.
Something had pried it open, unleashing years of unresolved emotions.

Lu Han fights against it, trashing the entire studio, ripping music sheets and breaking
everything in his sight in two. He destroys the piano, bloodying his hands as he delivers
hundreds of blows against the keys. He falls to the corner of the room, looking at his reflection
on a broken mirror.

The blood on his hands and the tears staining his cheek are a nice touch of dramatics. He almost
wants to laugh.

--

"Come on. You need a break."

"Which means I should stay inside, drinking alone, as I watch old movies."

"No way in hell. I'm taking you up to the penthouse. I hear your neighbor is throwing a party."
Yixing walks straight to Lu Han's closet, letting his hands brush through pristine white shirts.
He picks one at random, finding a nice teal tie to go with it. The pants are pinstriped, and the
shoes are italian. It almost felt like an uniform by now.

Lu Han gets dress reluctantly, still wishing that his best friend would change his mind
somewhere along the process. Famous classical pieces of music begin to stream into his open
windows from the penthouse above him. Whoever made the selection had good taste. About
one hour later, as Lu Han cuts up pieces of fruit to fill his empty stomach, also trying to stall a
bit longer, the music switches into fierce argentine tango. He hears people laughing and the
sound of breaking glass.

"Sounds like quite a party," Lu Han comments as he chews. Yixing sticks his head out the
window, trying to absorb a bit more of the sounds.

"And we're missing it," Yixing adds sadly. He sighs, sitting back down on the couch as his feet
tapped along to the music. Lu Han throws the rest of his fruit salad away.

He takes a few shy steps towards the door, his italian shoes echoing against the hardwood floor.
"Let's go then."

His friend smiles wide, running up to his side as both of them make their way to the elevator.
When the doors open, they find themselves in the middle of the action, dodging a pair of drunk
girls as they run inside the elevator. They begin to kiss, moaning obscenely against each others
lips. One of them lets her hands wander under the other's skirt, just as the doors of the elevator
close. Lu Han glups.

The music blares in his ears as he walks through the crowd. The penthouse was twice as large
as his own apartment, with an open patio, and a large staircase at one of the corners, guarded by
two large men in black. The tacky decor was there, displayed at every corner of the place. Lu
Han saw a man throwing up on the carpet that was probably worth over ten thousand dollars.

Wild energy bounces off the walls, and Yixing finds himself at home, dancing to the beat of big
band pieces. He finds a partner almost immediately, and Lu Han decides to grab himself a drink
so he could sit back and watch it all. He finds an empty stop near the staircase, and claims it as
his for the rest of the night.
As he sips on his champagne, he looks up the stairs, finding a mezzanine and a few closed
doors. His attention is dragged back to the center of the room when Yixing becomes the star of
the party, moving his body along with the rhythm of heavy drums. The crowd goes wild for
him.

Lu Han looks up again, this time, he finds a shadow staring straight at him. A shiver runs down
his spine as he glares right back, trying to decipher a face, or any recognizable feature, but
when he blinks, the shadow is gone.

--

From out his window, Lu Han could only see flashes. His privacy had suddenly been invaded
again, and the vultures began to circle his carcase. Their questions got under his skin, forcing
him to linger a little bit longer in front of the mirror in the mornings. The outside remains just
the same, effortlessly beautiful and impeccable. His skin is unsullied, pale, and cold under the
pads of his fingers. What Lu Han sees in the mirror is a lie, a human veil, used to conceal the
ugliness within him.

Under the fading light of his brown eyes, there's nothing but selfishness and a weakness so
strong it overcomes him. He's vain, insecure, and terribly careless towards the rest of the world.
There isn't one single drop of compassion within him. Each day, these flaws become more and
more evident, as he braves the flashing lights and screams in the streets. People fall at his feet,
and Lu Han walks over them.

He hates the person he has become.

As he arrives home from another late night at the studio, Lu Han finds a tiny gift box at his
doorstep. There are red rose petals placed around it.

He picks up the little box, opening it with care. Inside, he catches the shine of a beautiful pair of
diamond cufflinks. Lu Han snorts, thinking of how generic of a gift this was. Just as he was
about to step inside and toss it away, he finds a piece of heavy stock paper tucked inside the
box. He pulls it out, opening it with haste.

I thought these matched the shine of your eyes.

- XM.
--

"XM. That's Xiu Min," Yixing states the obvious, looking over the note for the millionth time.
Lu Han rolls his eyes at him as he paces around the living room.

He doesn't quite understand why, but something about his infamous upstairs neighbor doesn't
feel right. Those the lavish parties, ridiculously luxurious decor, and the overall mystery
surrounding him, made Lu Han extremely uneasy, especially now that the man seemed to have
taken an interest towards him. For some reason, the shadow he had seen at the party comes to
his mind. A man hiding away at a palace, watching as sad young souls search for an escape out
of their troubles. No one sees him, except when he wants to be seen.

Maybe, out of the sea of vacant and drunk stares, Lu Han's sober eyes caught his attention.

"You have to talk to him," Yixing suggests, a devilish grin peeking out of the corner of his lips.
"He wants you to talk to him."

"No," Lu Han argues under his breath, more at himself than at Yixing. His friends leaps off the
couch, grabbing Lu Han's shoulders and shaking him a little. "Stop it, Yixing."

"Listen," he starts, letting his arms fall at his sides. "From what I hear, XiuMin made most of
his money in the South. All the other rumours about him being a drug dealer or whatever are
actually fake. He's just another oil magnate. If that's what you were worried about–"

Lu Han lets out a sharp breath, "Then why does he feel the need to hide his face? I don't know,
Yixing."

Yixing shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Either way, would it kill you to knock on his
door to thank him for the gift?"

Just as Yixing raises an eyebrow at him, Lu Han's doorbell rings. The two of them remain
frozen in place, staring at each other with surprised expressions. Yixing bolts for the door first,
running past Lu Han, as the other makes a few feeble attempts to try to stop him. Lu Han
manages to grab his elbow, and the front door of his apartment swings open, revealing a short
man with sharp cheekbones, a face Lu Han recognizes.
"Jongdae, right?" Lu Han greets him, pulling Yixing back and leaning against the doorframe.
The man standing in the hallway offers him a grin.

"How kind of you to remember me," Jongdae says, and his tone rings of sarcasm. The smile on
his face is anything but pleasant. "Anyway, I'm here on an errand for a friend. I'm sure you
know who I'm talking about. It was very nice of you to attend his last soiree. In fact, there are
no closed doors in the world for you. You just barged right in."

Lu Han unconsciously takes a protective step back. There's venom burning in Jongdae's eyes.

"Sorry about that," Lu Han adds awkwardly, giving Yixing a nudge. His friend immediately
bows his head to Jongdae.

"That was my fault, I–"

Jongdae raises a finger in front of them, "No matter. You two are now officially invited to Xiu
Min's next celebration. This Friday. Eight o'clock." The man had one of his hands behind his
back the entire time, and slowly, he reveals what he had been hiding. A single red rose. He
extends it over to Lu Han. "Another small gift from my generous friend."

Lu Han takes the rose from his hand, and one of the thorns prick his finger. The pain doesn't
even register, and he simply stands there, watching the blood pool over his pale skin.
"Will we be seeing you two upstairs on Friday, then?"

Yixing clears his throat, "Sure thing!"

Jongdae smiles again, throwing Lu Han another poisonous glance before disappearing inside
the elevator. Lu Han's eyes fall to the rose in his hands again. Suddenly, he recalls a boy leaning
over a rose bush, his calloused hands treating the flowers with great care.

A chill runs through him. He closes the door, running back inside his apartment and throwing
the red rose out almost immediately.

It couldn't be.
--

Lu Han ignores the invitation and locks himself up in the studio that Friday evening to finish his
next piece. Yixing makes several attempts to drag him out of seclusion, failing each time. In
one last desperate measure, he leaves a tabloid magazine open over the keys of Lu Han's piano.
As the musician seats himself in front of his instrument, his eyes can the words on the page.
Beside a less than flattering picture of himself, there's a portrait of Oh Sehun, the producer who
had worked on his last award winning record. In the interview, the man slams Lu Han, calling
him a self-obsessed eccentric who won't work well with others. Just an asshole behind a pretty
face and not a lot of talent to make up for it.

"Is this what you want to be remembered for?" Yixing asks from behind the glass. Lu Han
doesn't respond. He simply shoves the magazine away, and continues from the top, practicing
his latest piece.

Yixing ends up leaving eventually, and when he finds himself alone, he slams his tired hands
over the keys. Lu Han still strives to prove them wrong. He'll shine under the lights for as long
as he lives.

Immaculate, yet, broken.

The night turns out to be productive. He finishes another piece, reaching the halfway mark on
the production of his album. At this speed, the entire thing would probably be out by winter. He
could already see himself playing on a white piano in the middle of the city park, with snow
falling over his hands as he sings out powerful notes. He could almost taste the applause.

Artists may hide away in the process of creation, avoiding all and every contact with humanity
in order to find the truth within themselves. Yet, at some point, they'll crave praise. The most
amazing and terrifying moment of his career is the moment he plays a new song to a crowd for
the first time. He loves seeing the curiosity in his fans eyes, and watching as it slowly fades to
admiration. Lu Han loves to see them smile, cry, and scream his name as his hands dance over
the keys of his piano. And then, the fear of rejection disappears, giving way to the monster that
pets his vanity. The applauses explode in his eardrums, and he takes it all in.

Who knows when it would be the last time.

It's way over three in the morning when he comes home. From the looks of it, the party had
already ended. There's no music booming through the walls of the elevator, drunk girls holding
their broken high heels, or men holding fedoras and smoking cigars on the hallways of the
building.

When the doors of the elevator ding open, Lu Han sees a shadow standing in front of his door.
He steps in the hall, and waits for the automatic lights to come on. The shadow turns towards
him, and Lu Han sees Jongdae staring at him with his hands in his pockets.

"You've missed our party," Jongdae mentions with a fake frown. He takes a few steps towards
Lu Han. "Follow me."

Lu Han bites his lower lip, "What if I don't?"

"You see, Lu Han. My friend and I don't linger around places for long. He's not really the type
who likes to settle. So, if i were you, I'd take this opportunity to satiate your curiosity now. You
are curious, aren't you? I can feel it."

Lu Han couldn't deny it.

He wants desperately to settle the doubts in his brain once and for all.

Jongdae snorts, hitting the elevator button and making a gesture for Lu Han to go inside as soon
as the doors open. The musician doesn't hesitate anymore. He jumps in, feeling his heart beating
in his ears as the doors close in front of him.

When they step inside the penthouse, Lu Han could still smell liquor and desperation from the
walls. The place is a mess. The expensive decor is all destroyed, all the designer furniture is
overturned or ripped to shreds, and there were words written in the white walls with red
lipstick.

Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful?

At the middle of it all, a single man stood, wearing a white suit and holding a glass of
champagne.
"Lu Han," Jongdae says, stepping in front of him and nudging towards the figure turning in
their direction, "I'd like you to meet my dear friend, Xiu Min."

A staggered breath dies in Lu Han's throat. In the end, he had been right. A song floods his ears,
the ballad for red roses. He could almost feel the humid summer heat on his skin.

Minseok takes a sip out of his glass, letting a smile decorate his beautiful lips. On the other
corner of the door, another man appears. His hair is colored red, and his skin is as white as the
walls of the penthouse.

"Joonmyun, take Jongdae out for a drive," Minseok says coldly without removing his eyes from
Lu Han's. He throws a set of car keys into the man's hands as he nods fiercely, pacing rapidly
towards Jongdae and placing his an arm over his shoulders.

Jongdae pulls away from the man's grasp. "Are you sure?"

Minseok glances in his direction, nodding slowly, "Lu Han and I have a lot to discuss. It's been
a long time, hasn't it?"

"Five years this November," Lu Han answers, finding his voice catching at the end of the
sentence. He pulls himself together, preferring to stare at his shoes than at the ghost of his lost
lover at the center of the room.

Minseok clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Jongdae's direction, "I'll call you later."

Jongdae throws another nasty glance at Lu Han, before allowing himself to be led out of the
apartment by Joonmyun. Their steps echo against the silence, and Lu Han finds himself getting
lost amongst the sounds. His heart is a few steps away from exploding inside his ribcage, and
the music playing from the speakers follow the pounding beats.

He feels a hand wrap around his elbow.

"Dance with me?"

Lu Han almost wants to laugh. "Five years and that's all you have to say to me?"
Minseok rolls his eyes, leaning a bit closer. "We have all eternity to talk. First, we should
dance. To celebrate this moment."

Lu Han finds his feet following Minseok's, and his head rests in the crook of his shoulders. He
takes in his smell, and instead of dirt and sweat he finds French cologne and alcohol. The
smooth texture of his clothes feels strange to his touch. His fingertips search for cheap fabric
with holes in them. Even the callouses in his hands are gone.

This isn't the lover he had been searching for, the piece of his soul he had left behind. It's a
projection.

Or better yet.

A lie.

--

The melodies play one after the other, and Lu Han finds himself swaying in the arms of a
stranger. They dance in silence for what seems like hours, hands slowly smoothing over each
other’s backs. Lu Han wraps his palm around the back of Minseok's neck, letting his fingers dig
into his soft brown hair. He used to wear it long back then, almost down to his shoulders, with
bangs falling over his eyes. Now, he keeps it short, cropped and full of product to keep it in
place. He looks down on the face he had searched for five long years, all the features he
remembers are there, like the soft round cheeks and full lips.

Lu Han brushes his thumb over Minseok's bottom lip, his eyes are glued to his, and his
breathing slowly becomes steadier. They get lost within each other, basking in their presence
wordlessly. The music ceases, and Minseok rests his forehead against Lu Han's. He lets a
breathy laugh escape from his mouth.

"Do you still love me?" He asks, now averting his eyes away, fixing them on Lu Han's hands
which are now entangled with his own.

Lu Han looks down too, trying to find a honest answer to his question. His heart screams one
thing, yet his mind raises all kinds of flags. He falters.
"I don't know," he settles, raising his eyes again. He places both hands on either side of
Minseok's face. "You've changed."

The man nods in acceptance, and then, allows his hands to come up to Lu Han's cheeks. His
thumbs draw invisible circles over his skin. He leans close enough for Lu Han to smell the
champagne on his breath. His eyelashes flutter close, as their nose bridges brush together. Lu
Han feels his skin burning hotter by the second.

And then, he draws back, straightening his back, "So have you."

It's like Lu Han's body couldn't bear to stay away from him for one second longer. He grabs
Minseok's shoulder forcefully, pulling him back. He pushes Minseok against a column, pinning
him against the surface. The other man's eyes remain cold, but Lu Han could still see the flicker
of an old flame lost within them.

Slowly, he brushes his lips against Minseok's, taking in the taste of nostalgia hidden within his
mouth. It only takes a second for Minseok to respond, opening his mouth slightly, and gluing
his body against Lu Han's. Minseok places his hands under his thighs, picking him up from the
ground as they kiss. He drops him at the center of the living room, with his arms still wrapped
around his torso. For the first time, Minseok allows himself to truly smile.

And there it was, the face of the lover he once knew.

"I guess we can start over," Lu Han whispers against Minseok's lips.

They keep on dancing.

--

Once, Lu Han had heard that it was impossible to repeat the past. Whoever had spewed such a
thing had been incredibly wrong. He had dived straight back into the bottom of the ocean, only
this time, he knows how to breathe underwater.

He leaves the penthouse once his mind begins to process what had happened that night, sending
in conflicting emotions through him. He bids Minseok goodnight with a long kiss, and departs
back to his apartment just downstairs. It's silly, and he knows it, but everything had happened
so fast.

Just a few minutes ago, he had been kissing Minseok, but he's not the boy from the lake house
anymore. He calls himself Xiu Min, a self-made millionaire with an apparent taste for
destruction. There's a story there, and Lu Han couldn't wait to hear it from beginning to end.
However, he needs time, and a little bit of room to breathe.

He had waited for this moment for years, pouring his feelings over music to make sure his lover
would return to him, and it had worked. Now, he feels as if the walls of his room were caving in
on him. There's an odd feeling swarming him, telling him that something about all of this wasn't
right. Yet, the warmth of Minseok's lips still lingered on Lu Han's mouth, and he couldn't afford
to lose it again.

He doesn't sleep that night, instead, he grabs his keys and returns to his personal safe haven; the
recording studio. He spends the entire night composing a new song, trying to capture what he
had felt when he had been in Minseok's arms again, dancing to his own melodies. He tries to
think of lovers who have expiration dates marked over them, a ticking clock counting down the
seconds. As if they have forever, they dance to slow songs, letting the music melt away the
hours and expand the time they have together.

Even after the clock hits zero and everything falls apart, they'd still have that one last dance in
their minds. Time is irrelevant. They do have forever.

Lu Han falls asleep with a smile on his lips. He rests his forehead over the cold surface of his
piano, allowing his tired eyes to close for a few seconds. His body relaxes almost immediately,
as soon as he begins to recall being in Minseok's arms. He imagines himself dancing with him
again, feet moving slowly through the shiny floors of his beautiful penthouse. He hums the
Ballad for Red Roses and drifts into a peaceful slumber.

--

The next morning, Lu Han stretches his arms over his head, believing that everything that had
happened the night before had been a dream. He's pulled back into reality, when he opens the
front door of his studio, and finds Minseok leaning against a shiny black Audi with the letters
XM marked in gold in the licence plates.
"Get in," he simply orders with a smile.

Lu Han chuckles in response, shaking his head.

"Where are you taking me?"

Minseok opens the passenger door, motioning for him to come inside.

"You'll find out."

Without looking back, Lu Han steps forward, making sure to greet his lover with a kiss before
finding himself being blindfolded by a piece of black silk. Lu Han struggles for a second, but
Minseok shushes him, massaging the back of his neck and planting a soft kiss on his nape.
Eventually, Lu Han allows him to continue his theatrics, letting himself be led inside the car.

"No peeking," Minseok says, as the engine of the vehicle roars awake.

Lu Han laughs openly, leaning against the leather seats. "Am I being kidnaped?"

"Maybe," Minseok answers, appearing to be holding back laughter. Lu Han almost pulls the
blindfold away, aching to see his smile. Minseok bats his hands away.

"This isn't a game you can cheat, Lu Han," Minseok jokes, and Lu Han gives in, letting his hand
search for his lover thighs. Once he feels the smooth fabric of Minseok's slacks under his palm,
he rests it there. Not even one second passes before Minseok lays his hand on top of his, lacing
their fingers together. "Just sit back. Let me make it up to you for all our lost time."

Lu Han squeezes Minseok's hand a little. "You don't owe me anything."

Minseok pulls in a sharp breath. "You're wrong. I owe you the world. I've waited years until I
could come back, and give it to you."

"I don't want the world," Lu Han argues softly, slowly dragging his fingernails over Minseok's
knuckles. "Just you."

Silence falls over them, and Lu Han feels the air get a little heavier. Minseok draws his hand
back, and they pick up speed. Lu Han hears raindrops crash against the windshield. It's fall, and
the weather is prune to brusk changes. Minseok turns on the radio, and lets out a satisfied hum
and Lu Han's song begins to stream through the speakers.

"The first time I listened to this song, it made me feel like I was fifteen again, sitting with you
by the lake, with our feet in the water," Minseok suddenly says over the music, Lu Han could
feel how delicate his tone was, as if he truly understood the meaning behind his melody. This is
his masterpiece, his favorite composition. "But at the same time, it made me feel so lonely. As
if after all this time, things wouldn't be the same between us."

"We're not children anymore, Minseok." Lu Han feels a sudden weight drop on his shoulders.

The man gulps, lowering the volume when the song comes to an end, "All things grow."

Lu Han holds his hands together on his lap, feeling unbelievably tense.

"All things die," he adds, thinking of the ticking clock and last dances. Soon enough, everything
in this earth would perish. Like his mother, and the innocence that was buried along with her.
One thing did linger, though. The feelings he held for her were all alive deep inside him. Lu
Han allows himself to smile. "Except love. That will never die."

The car comes to a stop, and Lu Han feels the silk slide off his face. When he opens his eyes, he
sees the sunlight sparkling in the surface of a lake. The place where it all began.

Their safe haven.

As if they were scared to step into the past, Lu Han and Minseok stay inside the car, watching
the sunset illuminate their tiny town in beautiful colors. Lu Han throws a glance to the side,
watching as the orange light reflects against Minseok's skin and hair. For a quick second, he
sees the boy from the slums, the boy who took care of the roses in his garden, the dream which
he had dreamed of for so long. His heart lurches, and he laces their fingers together. They fit so
perfectly.

Minseok leans closer, kissing him softly on the shoulder. Lu Han puts an arm around his neck,
keeping him close, and breathing in his perfume. Silence regains, and they keep still, listening
to each other's breathing. Lu Han thinks of the nights he had spent sharing a single sleeping bag
in Minseok's living room. It's exactly the same.

"Let's go home," Minseok whispers quietly, planting a kiss on Lu Han's temple.

"I'm home now," Lu Han says without thinking, and Minseok moves away, he claws his hands
on his jacket, pulling him close again. "Don't."

Minseok chuckles softly, playing with Lu Han's earlobe. He manages to pull again, leaving a
hand on Lu Han's cheek. Lu Han kisses his palm.

"I'm never leaving you again," Minseok announces, and his tone is grave. His eyes remain
glued to Lu Han's for a few seconds, before he turns the engine on again, and begins to pull
away from the lake.

The drive back into the city is silent, except for the melodies on the radio. Lu Han's song plays
again, and he finds himself crying, watching as the city lights approach them. It almost feels
like a dream.

A ghost still haunts the back of his head, however. He's filled with questions, which remain
unanswered still. Once they climb up to the penthouse again, Minseok serves him a glass of
expensive wine and they sit on a couch which is too new, unbroken and uncomfortable. Lu Han
fills his lungs with air, as if filling himself with courage.

"Would I regret if I asked how did you get all of this." He motions to the apartment, the art on
the walls, and the designer furniture. The capitalist dream. Minseok exhales loudly, placing his
wine glass on the coffee table in front of them. He straightens his posture defensively, and Lu
Han knows he's in for a fight.

"I did all of this for you," Minseok answers simply, looking at Lu Han with determination on
his eyes, "so I could be worthy of you."

Lu Han shakes his head, "But how?"

"Does it really matter?" Minseok's tone rises, and Lu Han feels a chill run through his spine.
"It matters to me."

There's silence between them again, and Lu Han feels his eyes burn with angry tears. Minseok
was always worthy of him. He had been perfect with dirt on his cheeks and old sneakers. He
fails to comprehend his goals, or his need to reinvent himself as the illusive millionaire bathing
in extravagance. He pictures Minseok standing over the rails of the staircase, watching as
people drifted in and out of his place during his parties. How long did he wait until Lu Han
found his way into his place that night. How many times did he move around the country,
looking for him, waiting for the right moment to come out of the shadows.

He sees it all in the way Minseok's eyes become glossy when he feels the anger in Lu Han's
tone. There's fear there, the imminent insecurity that Lu Han would leave him, and disappear
from his life again. Lu Han moves closer to him on the couch, wrapping his arms around
Minseok's torso, and resting his head on his shoulder.

"It happened four years ago," Minseok begins, running his hand up and down Lu Han's back.
"When my father sent me to the city to live with a few relatives. I hated them. They treated me
as if I had some sort of contagious illness. I ran away. Lived on the streets for a while. Until I
met Jongdae and his people. He invited me to join his family's business."

Lu Han pulls away, keeping his eyes down on white carpet, "Something tells me it's not at the
oil rigs down south."

"His family sells weapons to rebel armies," Minseok says calmly. "I turned out to be quite the
salesman. Closed a lot of good deals. When business took off, I changed my name for security
reasons. Got a new identity, new passport, a new life."

Lu Han listens quietly, his eyes still go wide. He could easily picture Minseok, in his white suit
and designer sunglasses, stepping out of private planes into warzones. He'd sell the weapons
that would murder thousands, collect his winnings, and fly back into the safety of his wealth. Lu
Han's stomach turns.

"I'm getting out of it," Minseok quickly says when he notes Lu Han's stance. "I'm about to close
my last deal. Now that I found you, and I'm able to give you the life you deserve, I don't need to
live this life anymore. I can go back to being just Minseok."
Lu Han sighs, backing away and resting his head on his hands. He breathes slowly, trying to
make sense of the situation. He wills himself to ignore the conflict happening in his head.
Instead, he tries to focus on the future. Xiu Min would become Minseok again.

Minseok’s hand extends to Lu Han's knees, tapping his fingers against his jeans coyly. Lu Han
looks at him, watching as he morphed back into his old self. The illusion is fading.

"Call me by my real name," Minseok asks, crawling on the couch to hover over Lu Han. He
leans down to kiss his neck, and unbutton Lu Han's shirt. His touch is so warm, and Lu Han
feels himself letting go.

"Minseok."

Lu Han lets out a choked breath when Minseok's lips drag against his collarbones. He frees
himself out of his jacket, throwing it to the side. Lu Han's heart begins to drum against his ears,
and a deep longing settles inside him. He pulls Minseok for a desperate kiss, seizing that hunger
that had haunted him for so long. His skin flushes with each touch, and Minseok's lips travel
down his chest, to his navel, and to the band of his jeans.

"Again," Minseok says, his hot breath causing Lu Han's skin to shiver.

Lu Han moans when Minseok pulls down his zipper, his hand quickly wrapping around Lu
Han's half hard cock. He squirms under Minseok's touch, throwing his head back.

"Minseok."

The man takes Lu Han into his mouth. It feels so unbelievably good. Lu Han almost screams,
bucking his hips desperately, and digging his hands into Minseok's hair. Minseok works
tirelessly, lips wrapping around the head of Lu Han's cock, making his way down slowly and
teasingly. He takes in Lu Han's length, moving up and down in a languid rhythm that drove Lu
Han wild. Minseok's name flies off his lips repeatedly, and it only works as an incentive. The
tip of Lu Han's cock reaches Minseok's throat. He loses it, moaning loudly, and bringing his
hand to his mouth to muffle his urge to scream. Minseok moans as well, and the vibrations push
Lu Han over the edge.

Lu Han pants, biting down on his fingers to suppress the noises escaping from his throat. He
screws his eyes shut and curls his toes. His life had been deprived of any pleasure, and Minseok
is able to warm up his iced heart, melting away the protective wall he had constructed around
himself. The wave builds slowly, reaching its maximum high at once. It crumbles, washing over
Lu Han as he comes with a scream. Minseok licks his lips deliciously, planting lazy kisses over
the inside of Lu Han's thigh.

Minseok pulls Lu Han up, wrapping his arms around him and biting delicately on his lower lip.
They stand up, and Minseok guides Lu Han up the majestic staircase with the golden rails.

Minseok opens the door to his bedroom, letting Lu Han into his life once and for all.

--

Even coffee begins to taste a little different, Lu Han realizes. Downstairs at his own apartment,
he begins to throw away unnecessary belongings, packing them all in boxes to be donated for
charity. There are some things he wishes to keep, and he keeps those in suitcases in his
bedroom. Minseok had invited him to move up to the penthouse, and Lu Han, like a blushing
bride accepts the invitation immediately. He asks Minseok for a little time to reorganize his old
life. The final move would only happen after the release of his new album in the summer. After
the promotional period, they were free to wander the world alone, doing all the things time had
deprived them of doing. Lu Han could almost see himself walking down the streets of Paris at
night, with Minseok on his side. He'd wear a well tailored pinstripe suit, and carry a single red
rose in his hands. They'd dance until the sunrise.

His daydream is cut short by a curt knock at his door. Lu Han turns around bruskly, almost
dropping his mug. He isn't expecting anyone, but a smile creeps on his lips as he imagines his
lover standing on the doorway. Minseok is out of the country, in his last business trip in Syria,
but maybe, he had come home earlier to surprise him.

Lu Han swings the door open, but the smile fades from his lips when he sees a pair of sharp
cheekbones and a devious smile standing on his welcome mat.

"May I come in?" Jongdae inquires, already stepping inside the apartment without Lu Han's
permission.

The man makes himself comfortable, dropping down on Lu Han's couch, and looking out the
large open window on his living room. "What a nice place you have. Honestly, I like this much
better than the penthouse. It's much cozier. Suits you better, if you don't mind me saying."

Lu Han scoffs, "I grew up around wealth and ostentation. Some would say that this is far too
simple for me."

"Oh, I know everything about you," Jongdae says, twisting his mouth in disgust. "You are a
prince. The heir of an empire. You're worth millions even without the successful musical
career. I've heard about you every single day for the past four years. Honestly, when I finally
got to meet you I expected more."

Lu Han grabs his mug and moves swiftly towards the living room. He takes a seat on the
armchair in front of him, throwing him a challenging look. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Jongdae begins, resting his back against the couch, "for starters, I thought you'd be
better looking. The television does make you seem a lot younger. When I met Xiu Min, at a
poker table all those years ago, he mentioned you, but I didn't expect him to be so obsessed. I
took him in, brought him into my house, introduced him to my family. He was everything to
me. Yet, in his eyes, I was nothing more than a friend and a business partner."

Lu Han sees rage in his eyes. "I'm sorry. Minseo–I mean, Xiu Min and I–"

"Don't patronize me," Jongdae spits back. "I know about your teenage love affair, and the whole
soulmates bullshit. To be quite honest, I don't think he ever loved you. Xiu Min has always
been an admirer of wealth. When he looks at you, he sees a pot of gold."

"You don't know anything about us," Lu Han whispers fiercely, and Jongdae only laughs at
him.

"Let me be very clear, Lu Han," Jongdae says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his
knees. "Xiu Min owes me a debt. Your little affair with him won't change that."

"I can pay it," Lu Han offers quicky, but Jongdae shakes his head with a dangerous smile
hanging from the edge of his lips.

"You can't afford it," Jongdae answers with a wink. "I'm gonna make this simple for you. Leave
him."

Lu Han feels his hands ball into fits. He swallows hard, avoiding Jongdae's gaze. "I can't."

"Leave him or I'll have you both killed."

By the time Lu Han raises his head again, Jongdae's already at the door. He gives Lu Han
another smile, standing on the doorway with his hands in his pockets.

"It's that simple."

--

An open wound begins to bleed, and Lu Han quickly shoves clothes and necessities into an
open suitcase in his bed. He'd leave everything behind. His music, his career, and run to
somewhere far from this mess had been pulled into. His plan is to drop off the face of the earth,
away from Minseok, for his own well being.

Beside him, Yixing frowns as he folds a silk scarf for the fifth time. Lu Han rips it off his hands
and pushes into a corner of the suitcase.

"Don't do this," Yixing urges, grabbing Lu Han's hand. His friend's eyes shine with unshed
tears, and Lu Han's heart aches for him.

"I don't have a choice," Lu Han answers honestly, pulling him closer for an embrace. "You've
been good to me. I'll miss you." He drops a set of keys into Yixing's hands. "I want you to wait
a couple of months. And then, go into the studio, find my demos and release them. I want to
know what's like to have people worship your art post-mortem."

"What."

Lu Han laughs dramatically, "This is my death, Yixing. I'm burying myself alive. But don't
worry, once things settle down, I'll come back from my grave to visit you."

"Lu Han, you're freaking me out," Yixing says, his voice shaking with anxiety.
Lu Han holds him in his arms and kisses his forehead. "I love you," he whispers into his ear.
"Don't forget me."

He rips away from Yixing, grabbing his bag and dashing through the apartment without looking
back. His friends calls his name repeatedly, breaking into sobs when Lu Han closes the door
behind himself.

His cellphone vibrates in his pocket, and a text announces that his driver is already waiting for
him downstairs. He doesn't have a specific plan yet, his first destination is the airport, from
there he'd step into the world and become a ghost with his heart in shreds. The moment
happiness wanders into his life, the wind of reality blows it away.

A black car pulls up in front of him, and he opens the back door, dropping into the seat. He lets
out a choked breath, the words gripping to his tongue. The diver remains quiet, he doesn't greet
him, he merely waits.

"The airport," Lu Han finally manages to say. "Please, quick."

The driver laughs, a very familiar laugh. "No, sir."

He removes his hat and sunglasses, revealing the face of his lover. Lu Han gasps loudly in his
seat. "Minseok, what the fuck–"

"We're running away you and I, like it was always meant to be," Minseok announces, as he
steps into the accelerator, Lu Han climbs into the passenger seat. When they reach a red light,
he pulls Minseok in for a desperate kiss.

"We're gonna die together."

Minseok sneers, "Like I said, it was meant to be."

Lu Han finds himself laughing like a maniac, throwing his head back, and letting his hand out
the window to feel the wind between his fingers. The look at each other once again, without
feeling the weight of their recklessness. Love blinds reality, taking them into an universe which
only exists for them. Lu Han stands at the edge of insanity.
In this moment, he thinks of literature, and quotes, “So we drove on towards death through the
cooling twilight.”

--

Minseok drives like a madman, speeding through the highway. They head south, towards the
border. It's only the start of their new journey. From there, they would face the world, waking
up at different places every day. Maybe some day someone would write a book about them.
They spend a good part of the trip thinking of actors that would represent themselves on the
silver screen. Lu Han even begins to think of the soundtrack.

"We'll make it," Minseok says confidently. "The border is close. They can't get us."

And Lu Han believes him, because he's far too gone, diluted into a fantasy. He prefers
Minseok's optimism over reality. He always had.

Night begins to fall when they are just a few miles away from the border. Minseok decides it's
safe for them to rest up for the night. He pulls into a motel by the highway, and the place looks
like the perfect set for a horror movie. They laugh about it, thinking about how out of place
Minseok's luxurious black Audi looks in the parking lot. Lu Han covers his face with a low cap,
in an effort to not be recognized by the receptionist. The woman barely even looks at their
faces, even as she hands them the keys to their room.

The walls are dirty and full of spiderwebs. Where's the glamour, the diamonds and gold, the
champagne and caviar, the good music, and the sharp suits? All gone, filtered; crude reality
remains.

Lu Han drops his suitcase on the bed, and when he looks up, Minseok pulls him into a brusk
embrace. He holds him so tightly, it almost makes Lu Han want to cry. There's no music, but
they dance, swaying to an unknown rhythm.

Minseok pushes him on the bed, falling over him, and urgently removing Lu Han's clothes. "I
need you," he whispers in Lu Han's ear. "Here, now, and forever."

--
Sunlight breaks through the curtains, and Lu Han's eyes shoot awake. He finds himself in
Minseok's arms, as dust flies around the streams of light in the room. The warmth of Minseok's
body is intoxicating, as if his own body had craved this closeness his entire life. His fingertips
trace Minseok's shoulders, following the curves of his body. He's so beautiful, even more than
he remembers. He kisses his nose, his clavicle, and his chest. Minseok stretches in his arms,
slowly awakening as well.

"Good morning, lover," Lu Han says in his ear, and Minseok smiles with his eyes closed.

He opens them up slowly, finding Lu Han's gaze immediately. His smile grows wider. "I love
you."

Lu Han kisses him deeply, moving in a lazy rhythm reserved specially for mornings like this.
There are many to come. This is his life now. "I love you too." He slips off the covers, much to
Minseok's protest. "I'm gonna get us some coffee, okay?"

Minseok nods, looping his arm over a pillow and falling asleep again. Lu Han smiles, watching
as his back expands and falls under the thin white sheets. He doesn't even bother to slip in his
shoes, he simply pulls up his jeans and an old gray sweater. He wanders down the halls with his
feet in the faded red carpet, humming a song that he would write once he had the time. A ballad
for lovers on the run. The soundtrack of his movie.

As he reaches the lobby, he sees a few others gathering around the buffet for breakfast. An
older women in sleep robes, a man in his work clothes with oil stains in his pants, and finally, a
shorter gentleman wearing a perfectly fitted dark blue suit, his shoes shine against the faded
carpet.

Lu Han's heart almost explodes in his ribcage.

Kim Jongdae turns elegantly on his heels, following the path down the hall towards where Lu
Han stands. His first reaction is to run, to warn his lover that sleeps peacefully in the bed.
However, he's only able to take a couple of steps before a hand reaches towards him, grabbing
him by the arm and pulling him into an open door. He feels the cold end of a gun barrel press to
the back of his head.

"Be quiet."
Lu Han finds himself inside a dark restroom, with a hand over his mouth, and a gun pointed to
his head. It doesn't take long for him to recognize the man holding him still. Joonmyun, one of
Xiu Min's people. The man with red hair, who wears leather jackets, and cross earrings. The
shadow who always lingered behind Jongdae. Lu Han tries to break free, willing to fight for his
and his lover's life until the very end.

"I said, be quiet," Joonmyun repeats, a little louder this time. He turns Lu Han around, pressing
the gun to his forehead. "I'm here to help you, goddamnit."

"Then let me go," Lu Han begs, falling to his knees in front of the man.

Joonmyun lowers the gun, shaking his head sadly, "I'm sorry, it's Xiu Min that has to die, alone.
Not you. Jongdae wanted you dead too, but I was against it. I'm so sorry."

Lu Han tries to run again, but Joonmyun is faster, he grabs him again, throwing him against the
wall. His finger loops around the trigger, and Lu Han begins to cry openingly, seeing no way
out. His dream is over.

"This is the only way, the only way Jongdae and I can be together, the only way I can join the
family business in Xiu Min's place," Joonmyun cries as well, pushing the end of the gun into Lu
Han's forehead again. "You're gonna get in the car now, and drive as far from here as you can.
You have to disappear. I'm giving you a way out.”

"Fuck you," Lu Han spits, "I'd rather die."

Before Joonmyun could respond, a song begins to stream through the closed door of the
restroom. It's Lu Han's masterpiece. The words sound eerie over the air of death looming over
them. Panic washes over him, and he bolts, finding enough strength to push Joonmyun to the
ground. He runs through the hall, screaming Minseok's name over and over. The song continues
to echo across the cheap motel.

It is followed by gunshots.

One.
Two.

Lu Han falls to the floor.

--

He doesn't remember much.

Sirens, blood splattered all over a mattress, and a lifeless hand peeking from under a white
blanket. He still sits on the floor, fingernails digging into carpet. Paramedics try to get him to
clear the scene, but the shock freezes him in place. Eventually, they give in, and even throw a
blanket over his shoulders. The weather turns, and rain begins to pour relentlessly over the
police cars. One of the paramedics introduces himself as Kim Jongin, and he sits by him, slowly
trying to get him to talk. Lu Han, however, shies away from him and the only thing he's able to
say is Minseok's name. He repeats it in a endless loop.

They wheel two bodies away.

The young paramedic eventually gets up, mouths his apologies and moves into the crime scene.
He leaves Lu Han alone to mourn the two deaths. One of them, the love of his life, the missing
piece he had longed for his entire life, which now had been brutally ripped away from him.
Minseok received two shots to the chest before firing back and slaying his murderer. Kim
Jongdae, the lonely child who had to buy his way into the world.

It only takes about one hour for the media to show up, that's when Lu Han rises and walks into
the rain and flashing lights, with his bare feet on the sidewalk. He faces the vultures circling
over him. Microphones are pushed into his face and he screams into them.

"Leave," he begs, screaming as loud as his already strained voice would allow. He doesn't want
this to be glamorized.

This is his own tragedy, broadcasted all around the world.

It's blood and money.

It's his life.

--

A week lulls by, and Lu Han's back to his apartment in the city. He’s cornered into isolation,
being circled by cameras and microphones wherever he goes. He's driven mad by grief, writing
his life story in the walls of his apartment. He destroys what remains of Minseok's possessions,
flinging them out the window in very a public display of rage. He becomes a spectacle,
screaming obscenities out the window to the hungry paparazzi downstairs. Some days, he'd just
weep profusely, until his voice disappears.

"I'm beautiful," he would screech out the window. "I'm so fucking beautiful."

No one comes for his help, not his family, and not even his best friend. His only ears are the
media, and he takes advantage of them, pouring his pain into public outbursts. All they ever do
is beg for more. Another performance, and Lu Han delivers. After being surrounded by light for
such a short period of time, he's terrified of being enclosed by nothing but pitch
black.Everything dies, he remembers. Except love, that will never die.

Xiu Min would be buried that evening, and Lu Han doesn't plan on attending. A flock of
curious eyes go in his place, and the event is broadcasted all around the world. The story
becomes public. A hollywood blockbuster is already in the works.

Lu Han simply watches live on national television as they lower casket, burying his heart six
feet under. The only real thing he had ever had all his life. And then, as if on cue, it begins to
rain.

He runs, dashing into the elevator with a twisted smile on his lips. He rushes past the doorman,
into the street, and he feels it, within the drops, an entire story being told as his skin soaks with
it all.

Flash.

The end of a fantasy.

Flash.
The world's sick attraction to disaster. A morbid obsession with twisted love stories. The
headlights of an bus.

Flash.

And cut.