I try to update every day, clearly, but I had writer's block something serious. Like, my usual "listen to music and read writing prompts" trick didn't even leave a dent in it. So I'm sorry this is late and short. I really hope it's enough.

Also, I'm going to be out for three weeks starting the 26th. I won't be able to update during that period, but I'll be back and kicking asap.

Yixing called unexpectedly that afternoon, while Baekhyun was teaching Chanyeol how to make fried rice.

He barrelled over the pleasantries. "Hi, Baek. Just hear me out, okay? It's gonna be weird. I need you to stay out of the house for the next few days. Okay? Just stay where you are at Chanyeol's. Can you promise me that?"

"I--what?"

"Please." His voice took on a worried edge.

"I mean, sure, but...Yixing, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just, ah, have a bad stomach flu. Really bad. I don't want you or Jongdae or Sehun to get it. I'm going to call them soon too, tell them to stay out."

Yixing was a horrible liar, but Baekhyun knew better than to dig deeper. "I...alright, sure. Uh, feel better, I guess."

Chanyeol staggered out of the kitchen with a heaping bowl of rice, a smug grin on his face. 

"I did it!" He set it down carefully on the table, and Baekhyun couldn't help but grimace at the oddly dry-looking eggs sitting on top.

"What did you do to it?"

"I cooked it."

"You cooked the s out of it."

"Well, I'm hoping there wasn't any s to start with."

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile.

After the messy lunch (during which Chanyeol spilled a glass of water all over the place), Chanyeol's boss at the magazine called.

"Yo, we need someone to cover photography the East Market tomorrow for the festival. Marc bailed last minute. You free?"

Baekhyun snickered at Chanyeol trying to gather together his professionalism. "I should be. Uh, what time does it run from?" He put the phone on speaker and held it out in the middle of the table.

"Eight in the morning to five in the afternoon. They've got restaurants nearby, and we can reimburse you for meals. It's, uh, Less is on interview. And if I'm--"

"It'll be fine," Chanyeol said quickly, voice suddenly much sharper. "I'm going to bring someone with me, though, if that's okay."

"Sure. Who is it?"

"Baekhyun, my boyfriend."

Baekhyun spat out the mouthful of milk he had just taken, and Chanyeol barely got out of the spray's path, smothering a grin.

The boss seemed not to have heard. "Sure thing. Just get there early and meet Less at the south entrance. Thanks again."

Chanyeol hung up and immediately tipped off his chair laughing. "Oh m-my G-d, Baek," he sputtered, clutching at his stomach.

Baekhyun was busy mopping up the milk. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he said, focusing shifting between the damage done and the giant rolling on the ground by his feet. "I just--I didn't expect that--"

"It was adorable, don't worry." Chanyeol choked back his peals and splayed out on the ground, watching Baekhyun hurry to get more paper towels. "Oh, man."

Baekhyun stumbled at the word adorable. "You need to give me advance notice whenever you decide to be cutesy," he whined. "Or I won't like you anymore." He pretended to stamp his foot, then turned away to hide the grin on his face.

"Aw, come on." Chanyeol rolled up to his feet and padded into the kitchen after the other man. 

Baekhyun was stretched up on his toes, trying to reach the paper towels on top of the fridge. Without warning (again), Chanyeol hugged him from behind, and he yelped.

"If you don't like me, what'll I do with all the fruit in the fridge?" Chanyeol said quietly, resting his chin on Baekhyun's shoulder. "Who am I going to share the fuzzy blanket with at night?"

Baekhyun looked down at Chanyeol, arms wrapped around his waist and puppy eyes staring back up at him, unexpectedly sad. With a resigned sigh, Baekhyun turned around and leaned back against the counter, pulling Chanyeol back up to his normal level. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, resting his head against Chanyeol's chest. "So stop worrying."

For a moment, it was quiet. Chanyeol glanced down at the shorter man, hugging him closer and putting his chin gently on top of his head. It was hard to believe just a few weeks prior, he wanted to kill him for a stranger's money.

Disgusting.

Meanwhile, Baekhyun closed his eyes, Chanyeol's sweater soft against his face, hearing his heartbeat drumming steadily underneath. Its sound was grounding, like an anchor in the tumultuous sea of Baekhyun's mind, a lighthouse in a heavy rain.

The kitchen was warm, and it almost felt like home.