♚

Sleeping on a king-sized bed was obviously an upgrade from a leather couch. Junmyeon felt like he’d slept for decades. He hadn’t. He woke up at 7 in the early morning and cursed for not being able to fall back asleep after getting a 5 hour long rest. He rolled off the bed.

The bathrobe was his favorite part. And the view – which wasn’t as daunting in the day time.

He went to the living room right away to look out the window, down at the mini-park and outdoor café outside the building. People swarmed around the ground and Junmyeon decided that they looked like ants down there.

He leaned a little, but stopped when he pictured a smushed, dead ant lying flat on the ground that 22 floors below.

Suddenly, the view was daunting. He stepped away. Instead, he made his way to the master bedroom. He opened the door without so much as a creek, and tiptoed in. He wanted to look in the closet, too. Just in case. He didn’t know why, exactly, but there was a pull as strong as gravity on his mind, that Wu Yifan was something. And Junmyeon was never wrong when he noticed the somethings in people.

Jongdae, Yixing, Sehun, Luhan, even Minseok. Even Chanyeol. Junmyeon had noticed. They were people worth writing about. Yifan, too. Maybe he’d be an antagonist. Junmyeon always wrote the antagonist based on himself. Maybe Yifan could be on his side.

What a nice thing to do, Junmyeon thought, thinking in a tone of sarcasm. I’ll just drag and drop him into the bad-guy line. What a compliment that is.

He managed to tip-toe as far as the closet door – managed to fold his fingers around the doorknob and even managed to start opening it a little. He heard a small groan from the bed behind him. He heard Yifan turn over on his side.

Junmyeon made sure not to look. He had a weakness for sleeping people. He couldn’t do a thing to the defenseless and unsuspecting. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

Yifan mumbled something. “…Mom?” Junmyeon’s eye twitched and he turned around, ready to sass.

‘Where in God’s name do I look like your mother?’ Is what he wanted to say. He didn’t end up saying it, though. Because Yifan’s husky whisper hadn’t been directed at him. He’d said it in his sleep, hugging his pillow and burying his face into the fabric of his comforter.

Junmyeon raised an eyebrow. He’d fallen. Dammit, sleeping person. He tiptoed out of the room and made sure to close the door as quietly as he could. Just before clicking it closed, though, he opened it a little again and tip-toed back in. Oh, if only he’d worn socks. This would’ve been quieter.

Junmyeon prayed Yifan didn’t have security cameras, because this was the last thing he wanted to be caught doing. He approached the bed, where Yifan looked like a sleeping frat boy. Junmyeon cringed as he did this, but he took the extra pillow on the other side of the bed, and lifted Yifan’s head just enough to slip the pillow under. He took the comforter, too, pushing it just enough to cover Yifan’s slumbering face. “Oh, ew,” Junmyeon whispered, finally finished with his last good deed of the day, so early as 7:20 in the start of the morning.

Then he turned around and walked out for good.

He went straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out an uneaten store-bought pie. Rubarb. Hello, happiness. He took a big chunck of the pie onto a plate, filled a glass with orange juice and made himself at him at the dining table.

He ate peacefully, all while scribbling together a note his host.

Thanks for the pie. Buy some board games for next time. I didn’t make the bed, by the way. I probably won’t wash the dishes either.  See you at work – J

♚

♟

Jongdae liked to walk with his arms out as if he were a plane. Yixing knew that, having been his best friend since the two could remember each other’s faces. As they walked to work that morning, Yixing stayed a few spaces behind him to let Jongdae have his air-zone. He chuckled every time the 24 year old man almost tripped over his untied shoelaces, trying to keep his balance on the edge of the sidewalk.

“Are you gonna do that the whole way there?”

“Always,” Jongdae said, craning his neck to give Yixing the usual ‘bite me’ grin. “You didn’t have to walk me to work, though. What was the point of that? You live in the opposite direction.”

Yixing shrugged. “I had time.”

“Well don’t do that again. You give me the creeps.”

A noise escaped from Yixing’s throat, part laugh and part cough. “Creeps?”

“Don’t give me that about it. I don’t even know what it is.”

Yixing’s eyes rolled by default. The truth was that he’d woken up early to see Jongdae today. Not for any particular reason other than to see him. Yixing thought about what Jeonghan had said, about keeping his secret. He thought about how every other person in that preschool besides the teacher himself had probably noticed. And it angered him because why couldn’t Jongdae see something so sickeningly obvious?

Jongdae stopped with the airplane game and turned around. He was walking backwards now, still enough space away that Yixing couldn’t reach him if he stretched out his entire body. The distance was displeasing.

“I think I’m sick,” Jongdae confessed.

“Like Sehun sick or Luhan sick?” The comparison was obvious. ‘Sehun sick’ meant medical degree and Tylenol cure. ‘Luhan sick’ was a combo of hangover drinks and hilariously satisfying arcade toys to get you through it.

“Both?” Jongdae said. “Brain and body both.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know but you’re making me sicker, Creepy.”

“That’s a terrible nickname.”

“Shut up I made it on the spot.” Jongdae reached into his pocket. “I’ll give you this lucky coin if you stay away from me for a bit.”

“What? No.”

“You have to. I’ll give you two lucky coins.”

“No-”

“Three? That’s stretching it, Xing, I only have four.”

“Jongdae, you’re not sick because of me.”

“Yeah I am! I can’t breathe because of you, and I think I’m gonna have an epilepsy and are my pupils dilated, aren’t they?!”

“Would you calm the hell down?” Yixing laughed. “Go see Luhan or something, it’s not my fault.”

“It’s totally your fault.”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes.”

“Nope.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far, but I’ll give you all four of my lucky coins.” Jongdae raised an eyebrow as if the offer was impossible to refuse.

“How’re they even lucky?”

“Do you not know how I acquired those coins?” Jongdae looked insulted. “You were there, you awful excuse for a friend. Get lost. I’ll pay you when I pay you.”

“That’s a way to thank me for walking you to work,” Yixing said. Just as they stepped in front of the pre-school.

Jongdae grinned. “Jokes on you, because it’s Sunday and kids don’t go to school on Sundays.” He walked up the steps to his preschool anyway, leaving Yixing on the level sidewalk, looking up with a confused stare. He dug into his pocket and pulled out all four of his ‘lucky coins.’ “Catch.”

And then he started tossing them, one at a time, easily enough that Yixing caught all four and put them in his own pocket, unsure of exactly what he’d do with them.

“Take care of them till I’m better,” he said. “And don’t you dare come near me until I am. I don’t wanna get sicker.”

“But-”

“If you have a problem, refer to my lucky coins. Maybe then you’ll remember why they were lucky, you dip friend.” Jongdae winked and saluted. “Tell Luhan to make a house call for me. I don’t feel like being around your shop, but I need the guy to be my doctor.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Jongdae pouted. “Get lost already.” And then he turned back and shoved his key into the preschool door, and he left Yixing speechless as he disappeared into his pavilion.

Yixing threw his head back and groaned in frustration. “Why does he have to be like this?”

♟

♣ 

“Give me the caramel one,” Jongdae said to his companion. They were both sitting with their legs dangling into the sandbox, their heads under the sweet morning sun.

Minseok gave Jongdae the caramel Drumstick. “I just feel like…like a sidehoe.”

Jongdae nodded vigorously. “I understand, that’s horrible.”

“You know, it was almost like he was a happy little pill. Almost. I was starting to grow fond of him – no. I was fond of his snacks.”

“Yes, yes.” Jongdae unwrapped the Drumstick and started on the ice cream. “He’s easy to grow fond of. Fall in love with him.”

“What?”

“What?” Jongdae looked like he hadn’t said anything strange. “He’s a catch. He’s smart and funny and really really ing smart.”

“But…what? Where did that come from?”

“Marry him.”

“Jongdae-”

“What?”

Minseok sighed. “Shut up before I crack your spine.”

“Yes sir.” For the time being, Jongdae tried not to force a love story. Instead, he finished his ice cream and stuffed the wrapper in his hoodie pocket. He got on his knees and started piling up sand. “Let’s make Wall Maria.”

“You make the wall,” Minseok said. “I’ll be the titan and destroy it when you’re done.”

Jongdae smiled. “Fair game.”

So the two got to it. It was an old habit that came around at least once a month. If Minseok was in a mood and Jongdae was in a mood – jackpot. They’d get together at the sandbox and build the most glorious castle Jongdae’s 6-year-old mind could muster. And then when the sandcastle was at the epitome of its beauty, Minseok’s job was to destroy it as brutally as possible. It was a weird tradition, but it targeted their anger the way it needed to be. For Jongdae, through creativity and collected buildup. For Minseok, through thrashing and punching and taking things down.

“I’m serious, though.” Jongdae said, when the sandcastle was nothing but flattened sand under their legs again. “Go out with him.”

“Who?”

Minseok was slow.

“Luhan.”

“Oh.” Minseok scrunched up his nose. “No.”

“C’mon.”

“Didn’t we go on a date-ish-thing once already?” Minseok asked. “When did I meet him again?”

“Three weeks ago and no. The blind date was a failure. This operation will resume.” Jongdae flashed a thumbs up. “Café date or park date? There’s only really two options in Parkside.”

Minseok only stared, mouth hanging open just enough for a butterfly to fly over and land on his chin, confused by just how still he was. Minseok eventually sneezed and the butterfly made off. Jongdae found that giggle-worthy.

They both fell into fits of laughter. Sunday morning was finally a little brighter, and Minseok felt a little bit better. Even Jongdae’s ‘sickness’ felt a little more like just a passing cold.

♣ 

 ♛

Baekhyun woke up with his dog his face. And of course his place smelled like English breakfast tea and muffins and of course he was sleeping in his own bed instead of the couch and of ing course, Park Chanyeol’s mp3 player was on Baekhyun’s side table with earphones plugged in and tucked behind Baekhyun’s ears. Faintly, he could hear the song. Of course it was Magic. Of course.

With a groan, Baekhyun ushered Lady off his chest and heaved himself up sleepily. The earphones dropped to the floor between the side table and the bed. Instead, he could hear Chanyeol’s distinct humming along the tune of the same song.

Baekhyun pulled the covers off him. His socks were off. He went to sleep with them on. Park Chanyeol was thorough. Baekhyun got up and off his bed, and started towards his kitchen. Was their always this scent of happily ever after in his house? Baekhyun’s stomach rumbled and he cursed himself for being so in love and more and more blind by the meal.

Oh, shoot me, is what he thought as he leaned against the kitchen door frame, still unnoticed by Chanyeol as the uninvited guest sang along to the Coldplay playing off his laptop and danced from the stove to the fridge like the world was his playground. Baekhyun laughed, still thinking shoot me dammit, and Chanyeol didn’t hear.

Chanyeol flipped a pancake and grinned as a timer rang, bending down with oven mitts to pick up a tray of 9, setting the tray on a coaster and flipping the aforementioned pancake on to a plate. “Now to wake up the princess,” he said to himself.

“The princess has been awake and watching,” Baekhyun broke in. “For the last four minutes. How long are you going to listen to that on repeat?”

Chanyeol showed a dimple when he smiled. “Till it stops reminding me of you. Then it’ll be pretty much useless. Sleep well?”

Baekhyun cringed at Chanyeol’s empty pickup line. Like hell you meant that. “Like a bell.”

“Just cause it rhymes doesn’t make it right,” Chanyeol laughed. “You hungry yet?”

Baekhyun didn’t want to lie. “Not really.” He did it anyway.

If Chanyeol was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “Kay, then, more for me.” His smile didn’t fade and Baekhyun wanted to die because dammit would it kill him to show some human emotion?

Baekhyun started to turn back to his room. He needed to make the bed and sort his sketches, holy he had work to do and a deadline on the swing-set design. How ing peachy.

Chanyeol watched Baekhyun walk away, smile faltering behind the latter’s turned back. “You sure? I made muffins.”

“Maybe in the afternoon.”

“Byun, it is the afternoon.”

Baekhyun entered his bedroom and disappeared out of Chanyeol’s view. “Evening, then.”

“Want me to start making lunch?”

“I’ll just get takeout.”

“There’s no such thing as takeout in Parkside,” Chanyeol said. “At least not fast enough. It literally takes 6 hours to be delivered. Cold and no longer fit to be eaten.”

“I’ll go to the sweetshop.”

“And eat sugar for dinner?” Baekhyun heard Chanyeol scoff. “Even I wouldn’t let you do that.”

“I’ll go to Kyungsoo’s.”

“Why go out of your way?” Chanyeol was in the doorway now, watching Baekhyun get on all fours on his bed to fix the pillow arrangement. “Am I being avoided?”

“I’m surprised you’d think so.” That small mutter under his breath went unnoticed.

Chanyeol chuckled. “Pancake or muffin?”

“None.”

“Sure?”

“Mm-hm.” Baekhyun did his best to keep his back turned to Chanyeol. “”Positive.”

“Then Lady and I will eat it.” Chanyeol said as if that was a dangerous option.

“Enjoy.”

And then Baekhyun was alone in his room. He sighed and started organizing his desk, and it took him a while, too, because today he wanted to clean out every detail. Thirty minutes in, his desk was something new. Baekhyun still felt no satisfaction. His stomach was still sinking.

He stepped out of the room, figuring it would do him justice to clean the rest of his apartment too, pretending it would get his mind off things.

He didn’t expect Chanyeol to be munching on a muffin on the couch, Lady curled up beside him and their old high school yearbook on his lap. “I never knew this picture existed,” Chanyeol said when he noticed Baekhyun’s presence. Baekhyun froze.

No, , not that picture.

“But it’s cute that you’re watching me like that, Mr. President. Was I missing a hall pass or something?” Chanyeol shifted to look at Baekhyun, who looked at Chanyeol’s elbow.

“Why are you going through the yearbook?” Baekhyun asked, irritation and humiliation coursing through the veins in his heart.

“I’m bored out of my goddamn mind.”

“Why are you going through the yearbook here?”

Chanyeol made an ‘isn’t it obvious’ face. “Because the bedroom was under construction?”

“Chanyeol-”

“Wait, who even took this picture. It’s golden.” Chanyeol laughed so hard he slapped his knee. “Never again will I find you staring at me, huh? Can I keep this picture?”

Baekhyun hid his scowl as he turned around and went back in his room. He came back a second later with one less angry muscle on his face. “Chanyeol.”

“Yeah?”

“Get up.”

“Anything for you,” he said as he stood, charming smile dancing as it always was, on his face.

Baekhyun took his hand and started to drag him to the door. “Get out.”

“What?”

“Out, out, out,” Baekhyun insisted. “Leave.”

“But-” Chanyeol pouted. “Give me the picture, at least.”

“Goddammit.” Baekhyun ran back to the couch and took the picture off the couch. He walked back and shoved it onto Chanyeol’s chest, closing his apartment door as he did.

He heard Chanyeol huff and say, “Alright then.”

Baekhyun squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against the door, slowly sliding down to the hardwood. He pulled his knees together and hid his face. “, , .” He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to kick him out. Dammit Baekhyun. Take it easy, bastard.

It wasn’t Chanyeol’s fault. When Baekhyun was the one with the false hopes. The one who asked for too much. It wasn’t Chanyeol’s fault he liked