Deer Luhan, With Love

5

(Dedicated to Gamefishie because Except You is beautiful.)

Chapter 5 – In Which I Conveniently Lose my Voice

Deer Luhan,

Kappa – I mean, Kai – and D.O. have been prancing around the dorm singing “HunHan is really real!” for a day and a half now.  Camel— Sorry, Chen and Bac— um, Baekhyun think it’s hilarious and have been adlibbing descants to it and Chanyeol has added a beatbox track and is thinking about turning it into a rap.  Even Suho can’t get them to shut up and Xiumin won’t even try because you made him hate me for some reason, and some of the sasaengs who camp outside the dorm have been spreading the ‘news’, which has led to a huge surge in disturbing NC-17-rated HunHan fanfics.  How do you cope with these guys?  I think I’m getting PTSD….

Leigh

The words “backstage at a concert” conjure many things to mind.  “Confined to Luhan’s enormous winter coat in sweltering heat” is not one of them.

Unless you’re D.O., apparently.  For some reason known only to him, he’d practically tied me up in the thing and then left me in the corner of the dressing room like a forgotten mummy while he buzzed off to God-knows-where.  Kris was preening himself in the mirror after an intensive makeup session and Chanyeol and Kai were busy occupying the backstage cameras while Baekhyun and Camel Eyes, whose name I’d discovered on the ride over to the venue was Chen, were warming up with a vocal competition to see who could make the best duck impersonation.  Xiumin, whose face I’d only recently been able to put to his name, was hell-bent on ignoring me (I still hadn’t found out what Luhan had done to him), and the others were either pratting about with games or sitting in the makeup chairs to get themselves done up for the stage.  Everybody was in their stage outfit – except me, thanks to Luhan’s coat.  I had been proclaimed mute with voice loss at the insistence of D.O. and Sehun (Suho had forwarded it in good faith to the managers) to ensure I wouldn’t have to sing, and everybody had decided it wasn’t worth striking up conversation when I couldn’t reply.  At least D.O. had had the courtesy to leave me plugged in to his iPod.

We were given a fifteen-minute call, and then a ten-minute one, before D.O. suddenly reappeared all mic-ed up and wearing an enormous grin.

“Sorry for the wait,” he said, sounding totally unapologetic, as he dragged me out of the room and down the corridor, scattering several reporters who’d been lying in ambush.  “I had to get something for you.”

He shoved me through a door and I found myself surrounded by urinals.  I blinked.  I’d so far managed to avoid having to go into a men’s public bathroom.  My face began to heat up and I tried to look somewhere that didn’t make me feel awkward.  I failed.

“Here.”  D.O. held out a neatly-folded white top of some kind.  “You’re going to need this to pull off the suits we’re wearing.  Thank God you don’t have to flash your abs.”

I took the material dubiously and shook it out.  It was thick and tough and looked a little like an armless fencing plastron.

“What is it?” I asked him.

His cheeks went a little pink.

“It’s to put on under your shirt.  To hide your… you know.”  He scanned my torso up and down with his eyes.  “You’ve been wearing really baggy clothing until now, so your figure hasn’t really been that visible.  Kai said….”  His ears went pink and he trailed off with an, “Actually, it doesn’t matter what Kai said.  Just put it on.”