sehun can’t help but be a little bratt, when it comes to hogging luhan. sehun barely workds — as a part time float to different locations of the cafe he’s employed at, he basically works at his leisure. but luhan — luhan has some desk job that sehun doesn’t actually know much about; other than it’s the typical monday through friday, 9-to-5 kind of drill that sometimes keeps luhan from eating dinner on time.
and sehun doesn’t live with luhan, either. he’s got a key and he lets himself in whenever (which is nearly every day) and is always anxious for luhan’s return. not that luhan has any idea; he comes home and sees sehun sprawled on the couch staring at the tv, and assumes his parents drove him out again.
the fact of the matter is that sehun is terribly lonesome for luhan. the affection he doesn’t get from his parents is easy to forget when the void gets filled with crinkly-eyed smiles and tender touches to the apples of his cheeks.
sehun is terrible with words. probably because he’s a seventeen-year-old male on the verge of graduating in a bubbling pit of hormones, adolescence and rebellion. the only proper words he ever gets out is disapproval of his parent’s coddling, and sweet-talking his way out of trouble with the school administrators. luhan never punishes him or lectures him — probably because sehun never complains about hardly seeing him. it’s an odd relationship; sehun accepts that luhan is busy with work, luhan accepts that sehun is a moody teenager.
their emotional connection is something quiet but beautiful, sort of like still water littered with rose petals. luhan is the water, sehun is the rose petals.
the alarm goes off at six a.m. and sehun is the first to groan, reaching over luhan and shutting it off. luhan hums tiredly, already resigning himself to the inevitable wakeup. sehun deters him from slipping out of bed by instead slipping his arms around the older man’s waist, drawing him into his embrace, nuzzling into his neck.
"call in sick," sehun says, nipping at luhan’s earlobe. they’d been too tired to do anything last night, falling into bed and sleeping almost immediately after they’d each had stressful days.
luhan chuckles, “i can’t, brat. someone needs to bring money into this house.”
"tell your boss you’re dead," sehun suggests, his fingers dancing along the lines of luhan’s pelvis. luhan’s skin is soft as the morning dew.
"i don’t think it works that way," luhan says softly, although by the way he relaxes, sehun knows he’s won this battle.
"have a three day weekend with me," sehun’s lips trail down the column of luhan’s neck.
"you should go to school," luhan chides, but his tone isn’t reprimanding.
"just… stay," sehun requests, softly. he doesn’t know how to say more — how to say ‘i love you’ or ‘i don’t want to be without you’.
the rose does not need to explain its existence, resting on the surface of the calm water.
it just… is.