Deer Luhan, With Love

1

This story is posted here and on AFF (check external link), under the same username, and nowhere else.

***DISCLAIMER***

I don't own EXO or their image or anything else branded to SM entertainment.

Story and original characters are copyright 2014 korekrypta, all rights reserved, however, so please don't plagiarise.  (Not sure why you'd want to, but still.)

Dedicated to Blackwingzkises for making the beautiful cover.

Chapter 1 – In Which a Chinese Pop Star Steals my Phone

 Dear Luhan,

Thanks for the coat.  After what you’ve put me through, I think I’m going to keep it, because it’s definitely the warmest coat I’ve ever had.  That said, I don’t want to keep your phone: I want mine back.  If you know what’s good for you, you’ll hand it over before my friend Abbie discovers there’s a K-pop star on the other end when she tries to ring me.

Thanks,

Leigh

There’s this saying that there are, like, five or six other people in the world who look exactly like you.  You get the jokes going around the internet all the time – that it means there must be twenty-five One Direction lookalikes in the world up for grabs and stuff, or that there’s another six sets of that boyband EXO wandering around somewhere on the planet.

For some reason, only girls appear to have this fixation.  And for some totally god-forsaken reason, one of my six lookalikes turned out to be – a guy.

I met him in Hyde Park.

Gee, this sounds like the beginning of some kind of romance story.  I mean, it is a romance story, but the romance comes later.

It was dark.

No, we weren’t on a date.  This was the first time I met him.

Anyway, so, I was wandering around Hyde Park quite late at night after an argument with my mum over the new boyish haircut I’d got.  I needed time out of the house to cool down, and I needed time away from my mum so that she couldn’t turn me into a target for her best china plates – one had caught me a glancing blow above my left ear and left a bleeding gash.  I’m still not sure why she got so angry about my haircut.  Maybe because I’d dyed it pink.  Maybe because she had some kind of precognition and knew what was going to happen.  I mean, I stormed out of the flat at eight in the evening, and forty-eight hours later I’m ringing her from a K-pop star’s phone in Seoul to tell her I’ve somehow ended up in South Korea without my passport.  And it didn’t particularly help that the North Koreans had been forecasting rivers of blood and rains of mortars just the week before.  So yeah.  I think my mum might just have psychic powers.

Professor Trelawney-style mums aside, Hyde Park in the dark in winter is cold, and I sadly know this from a little too much experience.  Not to mention that Hyde Park isn’t exactly the safest place for a young woman to be after dark, even if she’s armed with house keys and a hazy knowledge of judo from primary school.  London’s not that bad safety-wise for a big city, but you stumble across the odd needle from time to time and you do get the occasional creeper trying to hit on you or mug you after hours.

Which was what I initially mistook him for when he came tearing up to where I was blowing on my hands under the bandstand at around quarter to ten and debating over whether or not it would be safe to go home or if it was worth risking staying out for another hour or so.