♦

For a change, Junmyeon wasn’t lurking only for the sake of his own amusement, or, in other words, to piss anyone off.

See, he had a problem. It wasn’t exactly common. You wouldn’t just understand it. But it consumed him and it rendered him helpless. It was his reason for returning to Parkside and his reason for almost everything he did.

His inner little killer. The knife that tore holes into his mind and left his every thought empty and fruitless. It was only because of the simple writer’s block, that Kim Junmyeon had to be this way.

He couldn’t do anything about it. It was a process he was stuck with. He remembered being fourteen and homeschooled, living in the house where Chanyeol lived now, writing and writing and writing and then leaving for maybe a minute to play with his neighbor, Jongdae. He remembered writing short stories on the way he and Jongdae would take their bikes and race to Yixing’s and the three of them would go to the sandbox. But things changed, and that love of melting into every word he wrote turned into the desperate attempts to get a paragraph on paper, maybe a story, maybe something worth reading.

Slowly – he remembered it well – he grew up and his parents and Jongdae’s parents moved to the city, and he moved in with Jongdae and they met a cute student who needed a room, and they became a family and more and more people came to town. And Kim Junmyeon ran out of things to write about. He found inspiration in the most interesting thing there was in the town.

People’s lives were always fun for him to meddle with. And four years in, after meeting a slobby songwriter and a cupcake-making genius and a childish veterinarian, he was able to compose a novel and get the chance to do the thing he wanted to do most.

Leave.

He travelled, he made it out, he saw parts of the world he’d never been able to dream of from his little home.

But that was his problem, he figured. The whole ‘home’ thing. He swallowed it down and accepted that he was stuck with it. It didn’t matter too much – he had a bestseller now.

Oh, he hated this.

“Yixing,” Junmyeon addressed the man behind the counter. “Did you hear me?”

The baker frowned. “I didn’t.” He set his phone down. “But I didn’t particularly want to.”

Junmyeon sighed. “Are you hiring, by any chance?”

“No.”

“Okay.” The customer nodded. “Then, can I get a cup of black coffee?”

“Small or large?”

“Medium.”

Yixing moved to the coffee machine with a nod of his head and Junmyeon sighed. He looked out the window as he waited.

It was Saturday. It was slow and he was sluggish and bored. He was doing something he’d hoped he’d never have to. “Do you think Minseok’s hiring?”

Yixing shrugged. “Do you want to test him?” He slid the hot cup of coffee across the register and Junmyeon paid.

“Keep the change.”

“Should you really be saying that?” Yixing raised an eyebrow. “Considering your situation.”

Junmyeon snorted. “I’m not broke yet, don’t you worry.” He gave a two- salute and pushed through the glass doors.

He was back in the ugly summer air and crossing the street with no particular desire to go anywhere, or see anyone.

He may have a written a novel, a good one, but it didn’t stop the writer’s block from poking holes into his coverage. Kim Junmyeon could be as tough as he wanted to, but all he was working for was a sliver of inspiration – he let himself believe that was harmless.

 ♦

♚

“So you tried Yixing hyung?” Sehun asked, multitasking while he re-shelved the dog toys and talked to his visitor at the same time.

Junmyeon bit the inside of his lip uninterestedly. “Yeah.”

“What about Minseok hyung?”

It wasn’t all that late. Maybe noon-ish, or a few hours passed that. Junmyeon’s mission had yet to be accomplished, and he’d ended up in the pet store. He didn’t particularly want to be there, but he had a tool box to return and a bright-eyed dongsaeng to meet.

“Didn’t he already het a new employee?”

Sehun’s eyes lit up. “You’re right, he has Tao already. What about the preschool? I’m sure Jongdae hyung would-”

“Not the preschool.”

“There’s only so many places in Parkside, Hyung.” Sehun shook his head. “Maybe if you try asking around a little, you’d actually get something.”

“I did try.”

“Hyung.”

Junmyeon rolled his eyes. “I didn’t want to work there anyway. Luhan hates me.”

“I have a whole ton of hyungs in this town,” Sehun said. “And they all hate you.”

“Not all your hyungs,” Yifan said, raising a hand from where he sat at his desk. “Just saying.”

Junmyeon squinted at him. “How long has he been sitting there?”

“Long enough to know you’re unemployed and desperate.” Yifan smiled. “Good luck finding a job, by the way.”

Junmyeon wondered why Sehun couldn’t see his boss’s condescending grin. The wish for good luck sounded like a curse of eternal job-hunting.

“Thanks.” He said, for lack of other words. Junmyeon wouldn’t say he was flustered – he wouldn’t admit to such a thing. He was just on edge, that’s all. “Where do you want me to put the toolbox?”

“Oh, that.” Yifan looked at the box in Junmyeon’s hand. “Sehun, can you put it in the storage closet in the clinic?”

“Huh?” Sehun perked up. He was still propping dog toys on the shelf. His hands looked full.”

“Never mind, Sehun.” Junmyeon assured him. “I’ll do it.” He didn’t waste time being too polite before making his way into the clinic and jiggling the knob of the closet.

He could hear the vet and his boss in the main store, and he could hear them talking about him.

“Say, Hyung,” Sehun was saying to Yifan. “Why don’t you hire him?”

He heard the Tool Guy laugh. It was a hearty chuckle but Junmyeon tensed. “If he wants to work here, Sehun, he’ll ask.”

“Oh.”

Junmyeon gritted his teeth and shoved the toolbox into the closet, before marching back out.

“Hyung, Hyung.” Sehun dropped a toy on his jog over to his senior. “Why don’t you work here?”

Junmyeon peered at him. “Here, meaning…?

“The pet shop.” Sehun beamed. “I mean, there’s only three of us. And like twenty pets. We’d need another hand.”

A fake smile was plastered then, and Junmyeon did his best to make it reach his eyes. “I’ll consider it, Sehun.” He lied. “But for now, I should go.”

“No way,” Sehun pouted. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the animals!”

Animals…

Junmyeon grimaced. Yifan noticed and raised an eyebrow. Junmyeon pretended he’d never grimaced. Yifan noticed that, too, and smiled. “You know, I think I’d like to hire you.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Really?” Yifan cocked his head to the side. “Are you in a position to refuse?”

Openness, openness, openness, openness, openness, ope-

“I’m not much of an animal person.” He pressed his lips together and stretched them into an elastic grin. “I really don’t think you want to hire me.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, why would you want to hire me?”

“You need the money.”

“You want me to take your money?”

“You want me to just hand it to you?”

“I don’t want your money on a silver platter.”

“Then would you rather earn it?”

It went quiet. The Tool Guy had won. Junmyeon pursed his lips. Sehun whistled and something meowed. He hated these things. Junmyeon hated the things he couldn’t control. That would have been his only reason not to work at the pet shop, but then there was the owner. The owner with the smile that he felt was so false, and so filled with something that wasn’t what he displayed.

But unusually, he wasn’t curious. He didn’t want to get to know Yifan. He didn’t want to learn that smile at all.

♚

❃

Luhan set the bouquet on the counter and sighed. The evening was approaching now, and he was tired of moving. Yixing gave him a break from cooking while his hand healed, so he stayed behind the register and boredly flipped coins. There was a bright orange arrangement of flowers beside him.

“You’re still getting bouquets from him?” Yixing asked, appearing from out of the kitchen with a tray of those giant M&M cookies.

“Yeah.” Luhan clicked his tongue.

“Why?”

Luhan shrugged. “When I told him my apartment needed some color, he stopped yelling at me and actually got busy.” He held up the flowers. “It keeps him occupied.”

Yixing nodded. “But your apartment is full of colors.” He pointed out.

Luhan didn’t respond for a while. He rubbed a thumb along his bandaged hand. He looked from the hand to the window, and back to his hand.

He smiled. “Minseok doesn’t have to know. What are all those cookies for?”

Yixing set the tray on the counter. “Didn’t Jongin tell you?”

Luhan snorted. “That kid’s been all over the place. I’d have to pay him to tell me anything these days.”

“It’s for his date.”

“He got a date?” Luhan’s doe-eyes went round. “With Kyungsoo?”

“How’d you know?”

“How could anyone not?”

“Well, they’ll be here in a few minutes.” Yixing said. “You don’t have to do any work, but you should be a good host.”

“Why would they choose this place for their date?” Luhan asked. “No offense. It’s just an obvious location in Parkside.”

Yixing hummed. “They wanted something simple.”

“Kyungsoo wanted something simple.” Luhan corrected. “I’ll bet Jongin wanted to take him to eat lobsters or something.”

“Wasn’t it clubbing?”

“Is he an idiot?” Luhan rubbed his casted hand. The door to the sweetshop swung open with so much force, it hit the wall with a smack. Jongin ran in, tripping a little but catching himself. He was out of breath and his hair was horribly disheveled. “Never mind, forget I asked.”

“Hyung.” Jongin breathed. “I’m not late, am I?”

Luhan looked at him blankly. Yixing stepped in. “No, don’t worry, it’s only six-thirty.”

Jongin let out a long sigh. “Dammit.” He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his neck. “All the clocks in Chanyeol’s house are wrong.”

“Did you run here?” Luhan asked with interest.

“Hell ing yeah.” Jongin growled. “I hate that lazy jackass. I need water. And a towel.”

“And a mirror.” Luhan added, and Yixing went to go fetch those things. “What time’s your date?”

“Seven.”

“How’d you get him to agree?”

“I have no clue.” Jongin walked around the counter and propped himself on the checkout desk, looking down at his seated hyung. “I think I forced him.”

“Of course you did.”

“Are you okay, Hyung? You’re so moody.”

Luhan scoffed. “No one’s moody. Get off the counter.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“Are you serious?” Luhan drilled a finger into his temple. “Jongin, stop being such a . Your date will be here soon. Get ready.”

As if on cue, Yixing appeared with a towel, water, a mirror, and bonus – a comb. “Do you need anything else?”

“Not really. I got most of the from Chanyeol’s bathroom, and I showered twice today. Do I smell alright?”

“You smell like a moose.”

“You smell fine,” Yixing assured him, ignoring Luhan’s comment. Jongin wiped the sweat off his face and ran the comb through his hair as Yixing held up the mirror for him. “Are you nervous?”

“Are you kidding? This is Kyungsoo. I might as well be going for my first job interview.”

Luhan laughed. “This should be so entertaining.”

“Luhan, what’s with you?” Yixing frowned.

“Nothing.”

“Then stop being so snarky.”

Luhan pouted. “Sorry.” He said.

It was an oddly recurring problem that Luhan was one to apologize immediately. He didn’t give anyone a reason to resent him. Yixing found he hated to think about it. Thinking about Luhan just made everything complicated. Jongin, however, seemed used to this.

“Hyung, did someone piss you off?” Jongin asked, mid-hair-fixing.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“You’re acting the same way you did when that guy on your soccer team gave you a concussion and you weren’t allowed to play for a week.”

Yixing raised a brow and Luhan looked away.

“Is this about your hand?”

“No.”

“It’s about his hand.” Jongin confirmed with a smack of his lips. “It’s because the florist guy threw a rock at you?”

“It was a paperweight.” Luhan corrected pathetically.

Yixing laughed out loud and Jongin joined him with a few cackles, still trying to get his hair to stick the right way.

“Okay okay, let me guess.” Jongin said, imitating the way his childhood friend would analyse people. “You hurt your hand. And you’re sad because you can’t…?” He failed. No one could judge people like Luhan could.

“Bake. I can’t bake, you snot-nosed brat.”

Jongin’s cackles resurfaced and Yixing had to adjust the way he was holdi