The airport was too bright, too loud, too crowded—but all Sehun could focus on was the way Luhan's fingers trembled as they clung to his own.

"You don't have to go," Luhan whispered, his voice breaking.

Sehun swallowed the lump in his throat. "You know I do."

Luhan shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Then take me with you."

"You know I can't do that either," Sehun murmured, gently brushing a thumb over Luhan’s cheek. "Your life is here."

"But you are my life."

Sehun felt his heart splinter, but the boarding announcement echoed through the speakers, pulling him back to reality. He had to go. There was no choice.

So, with the weight of the world pressing down on him, Sehun leaned in and kissed Luhan one last time—soft, desperate, a silent promise of what could have been.

And then, with his heart in pieces, he turned and walked away.

The campus was buzzing with life, students rushing between classes, the scent of coffee and fresh autumn air mixing in the breeze.

Sehun ran a hand through his hair, still jet-lagged from the long flight. New school, new country, new life.

He was supposed to be moving on.

But then he walked into his first lecture, and his world came to a screeching halt.

There, sitting in the middle row, was Luhan.

Sehun froze, his breath hitching. His brain struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Luhan wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be miles away, not sitting in his class like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Luhan turned then, as if sensing Sehun’s gaze. Their eyes met.

And Luhan smirked.

Sehun nearly dropped his bag. He stormed over, barely aware of the professor calling roll. "What the hell are you doing here?" he whispered harshly.

Luhan rested his chin on his hand, looking up at Sehun like he hadn’t just shattered everything Sehun thought he knew. "What does it look like?"

Sehun blinked. "It looks like you're stalking me."

Luhan rolled his eyes. "Oh please. As if I’d go through all this effort just for you." Then, after a pause, he added, "Well… maybe just a little."

Sehun exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Luhan—"

The professor cleared his throat, sending them both a sharp look.

Luhan grinned and gestured to the empty seat beside him. "Sit down, Sehunnie. You’ll need a partner for this class."

Sehun gritted his teeth but obeyed, his heart pounding in his chest.

Later that night, Sehun trudged up to his dorm, still struggling to wrap his head around the fact that Luhan was here.

He pushed open the door—only to freeze again.

Luhan was sitting on the bed opposite his, flipping through his phone like it was just another ordinary night.

Sehun’s bag slipped from his shoulder. "No. No way."

Luhan glanced up, eyes twinkling. "Surprise, roommate."

Sehun groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "How did you even—"

Luhan shrugged, feigning innocence. "You think I wouldn’t do everything in my power to be with you?" His voice softened then, all traces of teasing gone. "You really thought I'd just let you go?"

Sehun's throat tightened.

For months, he had convinced himself that leaving was the only option, that some things were just impossible.

But here was Luhan, proving him wrong.

Slowly, hesitantly, Sehun crossed the room. He stopped in front of Luhan, his heart hammering in his chest.

"You’re insane," Sehun whispered.

Luhan grinned. "You love it."

Sehun exhaled, then—before he could second-guess himself—he cupped Luhan’s face and kissed him.

Luhan melted into it immediately, hands gripping Sehun’s shirt like he had never wanted to let go in the first place.

Maybe he never had.

And as Sehun pulled him impossibly closer, he realized something.

He wasn’t lost anymore.

Because love—their love—had found a way back.

Sehun wasn’t sure how long they stood there, lips pressed together, heartbeats colliding, reality slipping away. But when they finally broke apart, Luhan didn’t move far—his hands still clutched the front of Sehun’s hoodie, as if afraid he would disappear again.

Sehun sighed, resting his forehead against Luhan’s. “You’re really here,” he murmured, still struggling to believe it.

Luhan smiled against his skin. “Took you long enough to accept it.”

Sehun let out a soft chuckle, but his voice turned serious. “Luhan… you gave up everything to be here.”

Luhan pulled back slightly, his gaze steady. “No, I didn’t.” He squeezed Sehun’s hands. “I chose this. Chose you.”

Sehun swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t fair, that Luhan had a life back home, but the look in his eyes—the quiet certainty, the unwavering devotion—made every doubt in Sehun’s mind crumble.

He had left. But Luhan had followed.

Sehun exhaled, his fingers running over Luhan’s wrist, tracing delicate patterns. “I don’t deserve you,” he admitted.

Luhan scoffed. “Yeah, you really don’t,” he teased before softening. “But I still love you anyway.”

Sehun's breath hitched. It wasn’t the first time Luhan had said those words, but standing here now, after months of separation, after heartache and distance, it felt different. It felt real.

A lump formed in Sehun’s throat, and he knew he had to say it back—had to tell Luhan what he had always struggled to put into words.

So he did.

“I love you too.”

Luhan’s lips curled into a smile—a small, knowing smile, as if he had been waiting all along.

“Then it’s settled,” Luhan declared, flopping back onto his bed like nothing had happened. “We’re together. Again.”

Sehun shook his head in exasperation, but he couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Luhan shot back, winking.

Sehun rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, he climbed onto his own bed, laying across from Luhan, their heads inches apart.

Outside, the night stretched on, the unfamiliar city humming with life, but inside this room—inside them—everything had fallen into place.

And as Luhan reached over to twine their fingers together, Sehun finally understood.

He had never really left home.

Because home wasn’t a place—it was a person.

And Luhan was right here, where he had always belonged.