There were a lot of reasons why people came to Park Chanyeol’s salon.

Because of the hospitality and the green teas they offered, or because of the newest magazine issues they always seemed to have. Because the stylists there were so hopelessly good-looking, and anyone with eyes would go just to catch a glimpse of their refined, urban beauty. Catch a glimpse of Park Chanyeol himself. Some came to hide there for a while, some went to be found there. But no one ever went for the sole purpose of getting their hair done.

“Yifan, why is my shop empty?” Park Chanyeol paced around the room, looking out the window every other minute to make sure the people were still alive.

Wu Yifan blew a raspberry. “Don’t ask me,” he said. It was Saturday. The shop was supposed to be full. “But, this gives me a chance to relax and catch up on some reading.”

“You don’t read.”

“I read manga.”

It was past noon; it was the time of day when the music in the shop would be the loudest and Yifan would be swarmed with women eager to get their hair done by him, and Chanyeol would be pouring them tea while chatting up his customer, and everything would be normal.

It was the first time in months that the stylists were alone in the shop in the middle of the day.

“Is it like a national holiday or something?”

“It’s August. There are no national holidays.”

“Then-”

At that moment the door swung open and a young gentlemen in his early twenties marched in. He slammed his hand on the counter.

“Big news, boys,” Kim Jongin announced. “We’ve got some competition. Eye candy across the street. Like no joke, that guy is hot.”

“Eye candy?”

“Like, how hot are we talking?” Yifan perked up.

Jongin cleared his throat. “I hear it’s the hotness of the sun plus the hotness of Miranda Kerr plus the hotness of me times pi.”

“That, my friend,” Yifan pointed a finger at Jongin. “Is hot.”

“What? Competition?” Chanyeol, poor soul, was still confused. “I must investigate.”

-

Seconds later, Park Chanyeol had put on his sunglasses and jacket, and was standing in front of the clothing store across the street. He made a mental note to treat himself to fried chicken if the operation turned out successful, and pushed through the glass doors.

A cold wave of air conditioning clouded his senses, and he was already somewhere in the middle of the store by the time he could smell the perfumes. It was a really big place, the clothes were not-that-cheap looking and the customers were not-exactly-poor looking, and the manager who stood in the head of it all, anything but bad-looking.

He panicked. What kind of eye-candy was he supposed to expect?

-

Byun Baekhyun had only been working at SUHO for two hours. And already, he had told a shopper off. “I’m sorry, but that dress would look better with denim.”

“I want leather.”

“Okay, okay, buy leather.” Baekhyun held up his hands. “It would just look much better with denim.”

The customer huffed and picked up the leather jacket on the shelf, raised her eyebrows defiantly and stormed to the counter. Baekhyun shrugged. Her loss.

“I’m amazed.” His boss came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Anyone in their right mind would choose denim.”

Kim Junmyeon was a pretty chill guy. He didn’t yell much and didn’t take anything any worse than it was. He dressed like a Hollister model and talked like it’s CEO. He’d been the manager and owner of SUHO for four years and nobody else in the industry dared put him down. He had, in his opinion, the best job in the world and all the qualifications to match.

“Do I lose points for this?”

Junmyeon pretended to think. “Buy me a latte and no.” He handed Baekhyun a pile of folded t-shirts. “Put this in the changing room, I think they have the wrong tags on them.” He patted his employee’s back and jogged over to the counter.

Baek nodded and walked to the back.

-

Chanyeol tried his best to walk around the store like he wasn’t impressed by it’s spotless displays. He put his nose up and browsed through a variety of shirts and shorts, and ducked around the shelves and hangers. He had no idea why he was hiding, but he didn’t want Eye Candy to see him.

-

Baekhyun walked around a shelf. Someone was behind it, clearly hiding. He whistled and decided to let the security cameras handle it.

-

Chanyeol boredly flipped through clothes, until he found something almost attractive. He picked up the shirt by it’s hanger and walked to the changing rooms.

-

Baekhyun yawned and looked through the mis-tagged t-shirts. They were mostly graphic tees with crappy slogans on them, and then one that said I Shot the Sherriff on the front and But I Didn’t Shoot No Deputy on the back. He grinned and pulled the shirt out. Someone was in the changing rooms, shuffling around. Baek waited them out.

The doors creaked open and a tall guy with shaggy brown hair walked out. Baekhyun’s eyes widened and he ducked behind a wall.

The guy studied his shirt, the same Bob Marley shirt with the same lines from I Shot the Sherriff. He scratched his hair and pulled the shirt off, right there in the open, revealing a fine set of abs before slipping back into his own clothes.

Baekhyun held his breath.

-

“I’m telling you guys, it’s him.” Chanyeol had returned to his salon immediately afterwards. He peered through binoculars at the clothing store across the street.

“Are you sure, man? I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if you just imagined it.” Jongin shrugged. “If it was me, I’d be hallucinating my ex-boyfriend day and night after he skipped town.”

“Technically, they never broke up,” Yifan pointed out.

“Technically, they never got together in the first place.”

“Technically, I’m not hallucinating. I saw him. He was there.” Chanyeol raked his fingers through his hair. “He looked nice. And also, we might as well have been dating.”

“So, say he was there,” Yifan crossed his legs and raised an eyebrow. “What’ll you do?”

Chanyeol turned away from the window and grinned. “Steal him, of course.”

-

They walked into SUHO an hour later with their hair styled slightly better than it was that morning. Yifan and Jongin pretended to survey the place with their self-proclaimed professionalism and Chanyeol scanned the store for Byun Baekhyun. He was there, standing behind the counter. Chanyeol watched in amusement as the new employee called a customer out for having poor taste in shoes, and she stormed out of the shop, bags under her arm. Chanyeol laughed to himself.

He was still the same.

Chanyeol picked up the first thing he saw – a coral blue maxi dress – and waltzed over to the counter. Baekhyun stiffened and watched him take a place in line.

He checked out a woman’s handbag and held his breath as Chanyeol approached, laying the dress on the counter. “It’s been a while, Baek.”

Baekhyun said nothing. He hurriedly checked out the dress. “$76.00”

“Come on, Baek.” Chanyeol didn’t care. “I haven’t seen you in two years.”

Baekhyun looked at the dress. “This will look good with gray pumps.” He shuffled around the counter and walked away, and Chanyeol would’ve followed him if the manager hadn’t taken his place behind the counter.

“It really will look good with gray pumps.” Junmyeon said, putting the dress in a bag. He smiled, and Chanyeol ditched the purchase and left.

-

“So that’s how it is, huh?” Chanyeol calmly sipped tea on the red couches in his salon. “Time for plan B, then.”

Yifan put his face in his hands and Jongin brought out the soda.

-

Baekhyun had been at work for five hours, now. He’d told off three customers. He sighed and bit his tongue to avoid telling off a fourth. “I’m sorry, but that color will make you look like a taxi,” He blurted at last. The girl scoffed and the next one in line walked up. There was a considerable line of girls in the store.

The shop doors opened and Jongin strolled in, and Baekhyun watched him peek around the clothes and shoes.

He saw Baekhyun and flashed him a quick grin, looking impressed at the sight of the women, before picking up a shoe – not two, but one – and walking nonchalantly out of the store. Baek’s jaw dropped and he abandoned his post, chasing after Jongin and that single shoe he’d taken. He had just stepped out when he felt something cool and sticky splash against his scalp and cascade down his ears and neck. Jongin smiled and slid the shoe back into the shop through a still open door, and Yifan pretended the whole thing was an accident.

Orange soda dripped down Baekhyun’s body, and he stood there, frozen and enraged. “What-”

“Oh, Baek, it’s been a while, how you doin’? You know what? I think you need to get your hair washed.” Yifan speed-talked.

“Before it starts to harden.” Jongin pitched in.

“Hurry, there’s a stylist across the street.”

“Wait-” But Baekhyun had no chance to protest as he felt his hair get stickier, and they dragged him into the salon by his sleeves.

-

Chanyeol smirked as he rinsed Baekhyun’s honey-brown hair. He’d pretended to be surprised when Yifan and Jongin brought him in, and pretended not to be thrilled when Baekhyun took a seat in front of a mirror and awkwardly felt his hardening curls. He’d happily started washing his hair, no questions asked, and Baekhyun looked at Yifan in a state of distress. Chanyeol held in his excitement.

He swished his hands around his scalp, tickled his neck and pulled on his ears.

Baekhyun tried not to show his annoyance.

Chanyeol added shampoo and played with the foam, poking his customer’s cheeks. He made a foam beard on Baekhyun’s chin. Baekhyun sneezed. “Stop it.”

The stylist laughed. “Your hair grew.”

“It does that.”

He poked his nose. “You got taller, too.”

“Oh, really?” Sarcasm.

He put his fingers on Baekhyun’s eyebrows and wiggled them “You look exactly the same.”

No reply. Chanyeol smiled and rinsed the hair again. He washed it clean and blow dried it, using this only opportunity to run his hands through the familiar golden locks.

“Where were you, Baek?”

There were only four people in the store, and despite the eye candy being here, still no one came in. Yifan was reading his manga on the couch and Jongin was doing his own hair – again – in the mirror a few seats down. Both stopped what they were doing to hear the reply. The customer was quiet.

Chanyeol fell silent, too, absently running his fingers through Baek’s hair as he thought of the last two years. How he’d gone to Baekhyun’s apartment at six in the morning, because that’s what they always did on Saturdays, and found it empty. How he’d called Yifan and Jongin and Baekhyun’s parents and Baekhyun himself, coming out with nothing. How, for the next few months after, he sat alone on the floor of his shallow apartment, sneaking in just to – maybe one day – catch a glimpse of him again. How he’d had to see a psychiatrist and start going back to college and get his life together, only to constantly think over the worst case scenarios. How he’d opened his own shop and cried his eyes out that same night, because the person who’d made him want to be a stylist in the first place couldn’t see it. Because Baekhyun wasn’t there to see the wreckage that had become Park Chanyeol.

He snapped out of it and ruffled the customer’s hair, smiling the best he could.

Baekhyun got up and nodded. “Thanks.” And he walked out, his shirt still stained orange, leaving Chanyeol to sigh and put his face in his hands and close the shop for the day. Because he really just needed to sleep.

-

Baekhyun could’ve gone to work to finish his first day on the job in peace, but the forces of nature refused to let him. So he went home and texted Junmyeon and with all the weight of the day on his eyelids, he fell asleep.

He woke up at dawn the next day, in a sorry state, and shuffled around his house. His roommate wasn’t home, so he took a shower and changed out of orange-soda shirt and plopped in front of the TV. It had been their tradition – his and Chanyeol’s – to watch movies on Saturdays from six AM till midnight, stopping to cook and play cards and talk and talk and talk. It was 6:30.

He flipped through DVDs and pulled out Chanyeol’s favorite, The Lady and the Tramp. He curled up and watched it twice before groaning and playing another. It was noon by the time he’d watched four. It was three in the afternoon, and he’d watched six. It was eight PM and he’d watched everything he felt like seeing, so he rolled out and washed his face and put on his shoes and left.

He went to the grocery store first, to get eggs and cereal and some other crap. He pulled in and strolled around with his cart, aimlessly tossing things in and picking things out. He wandered around the store and stopped suddenly as his cart bumped against someone else’s.

“Baekhyun?” Yifan looked surprised to see him.

A moment later they were both outside, leaning against the cold pavement. Yifan was tall and good-looking in his checkered shirt and dark blue jeans and high tops, clunky black glasses and Rolex watch. Baekhyun had nothing to critique. It was often like that with Yifan.

The stylist sipped his diet coke. “I won’t ask you where you were, Baek.” His face was all seriousness. “But why did you come back?”

Baekhyun sighed. He didn’t say anything.

“Do you have any idea how screwed up Chanyeol was when you left?”

“I know.” Baek snapped. “I know...”

“Well, then,” Yifan ran a hand through his hair – the stylists seemed to do that a lot – and pushed his groceries into the parking lot. “There’s not much more I can tell you to do.”

-

The next day, at work, Baekhyun’s female fan club had decided that seeing his beautiful face wasn’t worth being called out for their sense of fashion, and the store was a lot quieter. “So,” Junmyeon leaned against the counter beside Baek. “You’re friends with the guys at the salon across the street?”

The question came as a surprise. “Ah, no.” He laughed nervously. “Sort of.”

“Well, they’re really good looking.” Junmyeon said. “They’d make good models.”

Baekhyun nodded awkwardly and looked out the window. He could see the outline of Jongin doing a woman’s hair. They were good looking, that was for sure.

“You know, the owner of that shop,” Junmyeon gestured with his hands. “I remember when he first opened that salon last year. He had to go back and forth from work to the therapist or something. I hear he had some emotional trauma.”

Baekhyun listened.

“A few months after they opened, he started getting lots of customers, and before you knew it, he was always smiling, whenever you saw him.” Junmyeon shrugged and picked up a few stray hangers from the floor, carrying them away. “But he’s got one hell of a sad smile, that guy.”

Baekhyun had broken a heart before, a lot of times. He’d rejected people endlessly in high school. It was four days into his third year at college, when they met.

*Three Years Ago*

He walked slowly, sick and tired of having to talk to people. His eyes were deadpan and he didn’t really see much through them. He was thinking about finding a tree to sleep under, when he slammed straight into a tall guy with shoulder-length brown hair. The guy apologized and ran off like he was going to die, and as soon as he was out of sight, an angry mob of three or four girls came stampeding after him.

One of the girls stopped to ask, “Did that scoundrel pass by here?” And Baekhyun pointed in the right direction, watching as the crowd went thundering away.

 “Baekbaekbaekbaek,” a voice snapped Baekhyun out of his flashback. “Dude, I need a favor.”

Do Kyungsoo had been Baekhyun’s roommate for a year now, and after living together for so long, there was never a moment when he didn’t need a favor.

“What do you think of my hair?’

“It’s wavy.”

“And…?

Baekhyun shrugged and picked a strand of his hair. “It’s getting kind of weird.”

“Exactly! It’s getting long, and I have split ends,” Kyungsoo motioned for Baekhyun to follow along.

“So…”

“So I need you to come with me to that salon across the street. Because you have a discount.”

“I don’t have a dis-”

“You’re friends with the stylist, right? You have a discount.”

It took a minute for Baekhyun to process that. “Oh, nononono that would be bad.”

“I don’t give a ,” Kyungsoo pulled him by the arm. “Just do it for the sake of my hair.”

-

Chanyeol made a sound that resembled a big, dying fish. There were two customers today, a lady with long red hair and a man with a sad fro. Jongin and Yifan handled those, while Chanyeol rotted on the couch, his hat covering his face. The doors jingled and someone came in. He looked to see Baekhyun, awkwardly standing with his hands shoved in his pockets. There was someone with him, a shorter guy with dark hair. Chanyeol got up.

“Hey, Baekhyun,” he eyed the dark-haired guy. “Who’s your friend?”

Baekhyun wasn’t about to answer anyway, and the guy extended his hand and introduced himself as Baekhyun’s roommate, Kyungsoo. “I’d like to get my hair trimmed a little,” he said. “I have split ends.”

“Ah, I see.” Chanyeol pulled out a chair and ignored Kyungsoo’s hand, gesturing for him to sit.

While Kyungsoo got his hair trimmed, Baekhyun sat on the couches and picked up a magazine. He looked through it and mentally judged the colors. He tried to ignore Chanyeol’s glances through the mirrors, and poured himself some tea. He had to remind himself again, that he was here for the discounts.

Jongin finished a set of delicate red waves on the woman, sent her off with a smile and walked into the storage room. He came out a minute later. “We’re out of Redken!” He hollered.

“Wait, seriously?!” Yifan said, shaving the man’s hair neatly. “How long till the next order?”

“Two weeks.”

“That is not good. We need it daily.”

Jongin winked at Yifan, who stuck out his tongue. “Hey, Yeol.”

Chanyeol was focused on brushing his customer’s hair. “Yeah?”

“We ran out of Redken. Next order’s in two weeks.”

“That’s okay,” Chanyeol called. “I’ll just drive there and get some tomorrow.”

Jongin gasped. “But Chanyeol, what about your cold?!”

Chanyeol sniffed. “It’s okay, man, you can just come with me.”

“I would, but,” Jongin dramatically put a hand on his heart. “I have to babysit my niece.”

“I have a dentist appointment,” Yifan quickly added.

The three stylists sighed in unison.

“Ah, Baekhyun, you’d be free, right? To accompany our poor, sick Chanyeol to the next town to pick up some hair products?”

Baekhyun looked up from his magazine and blinked. “What?”

“That’s a great idea!” Yifan exclaimed like a child. The man getting his hair done chuckled, watching the scene from his mirror. “Baekhyun would be such a huge help.”

“We’ll compensate!” Jongin pitched in. “We’ll give your friend a discount. 75% off.”

Baekhyun looked from Yifan to Jongin to Kyungsoo, who mouthed discount. He didn’t bother looking at Chanyeol, and put his face in his hands. “Okay, fine.”

-

Baekhyun only bothered bringing his wallet and phone, reaching the salon at around eight in the morning to see Chanyeol unlocking a pickup truck. “You’re here.”

“I am.”

“Well,” Chanyeol grinned. “Get in.”

The drive was supposed to be six hours long, going there, and coming back would take about fourteen hours and that was only if they made it to the factory by early afternoon. Baekhyun sighed and stretched in his seat, leaning his head on the window and watching the road.

Thirty minutes later he heard a voice. “I spy, with my little eye, something that is fluffy.”

Baekhyun thought. “A puppy?”

“Correct. The answer was Baekhyun.” Fifteen minutes later. “I spy with my little eye, something that is short.”

Baekhyun sighed. “Me.”

“Correct. I spy with my little eye, something with nice hands.”

“Me.”

“Correct.” Chanyeol opened his mouth to say start another, and Baekhyun clamped his hands over his ears.

“Enough already, please.”

Chanyeol chuckled and kept driving

They had been on the road for an hour now, and Chanyeol the radio, and Kesha’s ‘Blind’ played on the station. “Ah, I love this song!” Chanyeol started singing along. “The beat drops,” he paused. “I’m so alone~ My heart stops.” Pause. “I already know. You left me, all alone, alone, alone alone…”

He looked at Baekhyun for a reaction. He got nothing, and moved on to the chorus. “I’m sick and tired of the mess you made me, you’re never gonna catch me cry~~ oh, oh, you must be blind if you can’t see you’ll miss me till the day you die~~” Chanyeol grinned and stopped singing there, turning the volume down. “This song is so sad, it reminds me of us.” He pouted.

“Except none of us are blind.” Baekhyun said. He didn’t want to mention the parts about missing him until he died, or leaving him all alone.

“Point taken.”

Baekhyun leaned over and changed the song. Chanyeol started singing along immediately. “Because I’m happy, clap along, if you feel like happiness is the truth!” He laughed. “Come on, Baek, sing with me.”

“Haha, no.”

Chanyeol shrugged and sang along for the rest of the song, and finally shut up after another few tracks.

Three hours in, Baekhyun was sitting with his eyes closed, feeling his thoughts drift