Chanyeol took a deep breath and poked a fork into his macaroni lazily. He was starving, but didn’t have a particularly desperate hunger. Strange, he thought. By now, my stomach should be rumbling loud enough for the neighbours to hear. But it wasn’t. Probably because he hated cheese and pasta. He preferred the red sauce, with hints of thyme and meticulously sprinkled grated cheese. A minute of microwaving would make it perfectly hot, melting in your mouth. No other restaurants or stalls could ever make pasta like Baekhyun. Kyungsoo could make it better, making the tanginess of the tomato pop, but the perfect remedy for cold nights, with non-stop sessions of rain, was TV and snuggling up to Baekhyun, Chanyeol’s legs on his, as Baekhyun carefully fed him his steaming pasta. Ah, Baekhyun. Baekhyun. The word seemed to choke a little as Chanyeol mouthed it. It sputtered a little. flickering, drowsily dancing off his tongue. Baekhyun, Chanyeol whispered. Baekhyun. Baekhyun. Baekhyun, he said for the fifth time, as if that would bring him back or ease the fact that Chanyeol was tormented without his presence. Baekhyun, please.

All the members were staring at him. He felt wetness slide down his cheek. Minseok walked over to him and put his arms around Chanyeol’s neck. He put his head on the younger’s shoulders, his cheek brushing his favourite blue sweater, ever so slightly. “I’m not gonna say it’s okay because it’s absolutely not. We’ve not spoken enough, not breached this topic. Why? Do we believe that he’s become a traitor? He’s left us, deserted us without a warning, so we should completely disregard the fact that he might be in danger? Apart from Chanyeol and I, have any of you texted him? Called him? Thought about looking for him? Of course not. Because we’re all afraid he might be the next black sheep of this family.” 

Chanyeol swallowed. Part of this family. It twinkled, and pranced about, and had a happy little lilt to it. We were part of a family. EXO-Ls and EXO made a family. But a substantial part of that family was missing. Knowing Baek, he would have been lost and scared by now. Since he liked feeling lost, pained and fearful, he'd probably never return, which concerned Chanyeol the most. Everyone sat in silent grief, allowing the eldest’s words to sink in, with the exception of Jongin, who was happily munching on a KFC chicken leg. Jongdae raised an eyebrow at the second youngest member who obliviously continued. Joonmyeon sighed. He hadn’t told Jongin, or hadn’t gotten the chance to. Jongin was at a photo shoot for the United Colours of Benetton Korea when Baekhyun had decided to leave. When he came back, they couldn’t bear to tell him. Instead, they fibbed that he had to leave for France to promote the new movie he was starring in, and it was far too sudden for him to bid goodbyes. Jongin was outraged, knowing that Baekhyun was in another continent for an undefined period of time, and Kyungsoo barely managed to stop Jongin from calling the elder. Yixing said he would be extremely busy and no interruptions whatsoever were expected from the EXO members. Every one pitched in, lie after lie, coil after coil of revolting white lies that they had to force down Jongin’s throat, stitching together any concealed holes. They despised it and squirmed at the mere thought of having to bluff to a member who made sure they trusted him, and was loyal and understanding, but nobody could bring themselves to do it. To say it. To tell him Baekhyun ran away, and that the chances of him coming back were uncertain. He was just too fragile, Kim Jongin was. If you didn't treat him with care, he'd break. He was delicate. Innocent, like a glass ballerina statuette.

He sighed and watched Jongin the crumbs of the chicken off his fingers, looking like a delighted kid. Chanyeol smiled a little at his innocence, at the stark contrast between fiery on-stage Kai and mischievous Jongin at home. Chanyeol didn't realise he was staring until his eyes met with Kyungsoo's sharp pair, making him look back into his food. Kyungsoo was far too protective of Jongin, and everybody respected that, unless you wanted to spend your days staring at cold stone in a graveyard. Anyway, Chanyeol had better things to do. He was done eating, and excused himself to take a walk. He promised himself he wouldn't, but he couldn't stop his legs from revisiting the dimly lit lane.

He sniffed, his footsteps hushed, as he tried to untangle the remains of his disordered mind. This was an exercise he did since he was 13, to help him pacify his mind. He always tried to figure out what a place smelt like. Every place, every house smelt different. No two lanes or streets smelt exactly the same. Sometimes they smelt extremely similar, and trying to differentiate between the two used to somehow soothe his mind, take it off his current troubles. He didn't tell anyone about this but Baekhyun. Once, as trainees, they were shopping for band-aids because Sehun's ankle was injured again, and Chanyeol was getting overwhelmed with how badly SM was treating their trainees and how they'd have to plaster a spotless idol image to their fans, how they'd have to cover their scars in front of people who were supposed to love and understand them no matter what, and he suddenly stopped, and inhaled deeply. Baekhyun furrowed his eyebrows and questioned the younger about what exactly was he doing. Chanyeol explained, and Baekhyun simply laughed. They stopped in the middle of the street, and laughed. Truthfully, they didn't care much about the absurdity of Chanyeol's odd practice. Seeing each other smile made them happy, and moreover, laughter was contagious. 

Chanyeol almost tripped over a rock jutting out of the ground. He looked up and saw a small man exit the same Japanese restaurant, sigh at a piece of paper and rip it to pieces before the man tucked the torn bits into a black paper bag. He tossed the black bag to the corner of the street, adjusted his collar and stood still for half a minute, studying the painstakingly detailed patterns down the thin pillars outside the restaurant. Something was written in Chinese along the left pillar. No, Chanyeol thought. It must be Kanji. He watched enough anime to know the basic writing styles of Japanese. He'd tried learning the mentioned language, but gave up because he was unmotivated. He told himself he had no time to learn a language and juggle practice, recording and their performances. But whatever he learnt, whatever few characters he could manage to remember, were all because of Baekhyun. He helped him through all of it, guiding the younger's long fingers that held a fountain pen across sheets of paper. Baekhyun could now fluently converse in Japanese, and was now determined to teach his best friend the ancient language.

The man still hadn't left. He was still admiring the run-down restaurant, which in its time, would have been a magnificent beauty, a piece of Japan's true architectural value. I hate how everything links up to Baek, Chanyeol thought. Everyone I see, starts to resemble him, and my thoughts always eventually wander toward him. Chanyeol sighed. He knew he was vulnerable, unfortified without Baekhyun, and he hated being so. Every single moment he spent without him only made him feel more, hurt more. But all those seconds only added to more and more love that he garnered, buried and silenced, under his chest. The human in front of him, too, looked so much like Baekhyun that Chanyeol was momentarily stunned. How could he miss a person so much that he started hallucinating? Especially in the soft moonbeams, the moonbeams that caressed their faces, Chanyeol could pretend, for some time, that his Baekhyun was in front of him. 

He now knew what this lane smelt like. It didn't smell like home.