Baekhyun POV

 

When I woke up in the morning I found myself looking up at a chandelier from a large, springy bed. Where am I? I stand up to I find I’m comfortably dressed in a white fluffy robe and hair freshly shampooed. I can tell by the floral and perfume-y scent I smell when I move my head. Someone showered me and I wasn’t awake… The thought itself makes me uncomfortable.

 

The room is nicely arranged identically to what one would expect of one of those aesthetic furniture magazines that get sent to my home and often remained on the kitchen counter until someone throws it away. Everything was matching. The bed frame, the chairs, the sheets, even the rugs. All were a light shade of blue accompanied with a gray floral design. It reminded me of the hotel rooms my mom and I used to stay in when I was little, except for the lack of bedside table and hotel phone that would be placed on top. To my left is a pair of matching curtains hanging from a metal rod attached to the middle of the wall. Time to find out where I am, anyways I need some light in this room. I take long strides to the window.When I whip open the curtains, to my disappointment and confusion I find myself staring straight at a small painting. What the-… The painting depicts a grassy meadow and a few tiny, yellow birds chirping next to a blue river. What a poor excuse for a window. I just want to see outside… 

 

Instead of standing some more in front of the unsettling painting, I move on to the bathroom. To my relief, the bathroom is not as off-putting. The contrast in quality to the previous room is actually a bit disturbing. The floor is lined with nicely polished tiles and an expensive looking marble counter. Perched atop are small bottles of shampoo and conditioner labeled as lavender scented. I open the bottles to smell the lavender, and am greeted with nothing. The bottles are completely empty.What is this. Never mind… Maybe they used this when they showered me. I can just rinse. Next I pull back the curtains expecting there to be no shower, a pattern of emptiness that seems to keep repeating in this room. Luckily, there is a shower head. Impressed by the presence of a shower, I turn the handle... NO WATER. Of course…  Should have guessed.

 

I had already come to the conclusion that there were practically no useful things given to me in this room. A toilet (which flushes), some clothes, a mirror, and lastly a shaving kit. I don’t have anything to shave, no mustache, no beard, not even leg hair. Even so I check the box out of curiosity. There sat a disposable razor and a small tube of shaving cream tucked underneath the cardboard. It really is a shaving kit! I think as I check the inside of the tube for contents, not brave enough to play with the blade. Of course the one thing I don’t need would be gifted to me. I throw on the clothes which were laid out in front of me. Tight skinny jeans, a white graphic tee, and a black and white stussy hoodie if I get cold. These are some expensive clothes...wow

 

When I look in the mirror to check how the clothes fit, I see two white, fluffy lumps sitting atop my head. Although I had dyed my hair a light silver the week before, it managed to grow lighter--matching the nubs on my head. Then they perked up. Ears. I had cat ears. How did I not notice… And of course, a tail. I’m dreaming right? I pinch myself and begin to contemplate why people pinch themselves in dreams at all. So I’m one of them now, I guess… Explains why I’m here wherever this may be. After fiddling with my ears for a while I take a good look at my clothes. A familiar print fills the shirt… On the front of my shirt sits the painting from earlier. How lame… What a joke. It’s not even that pretty.

 

The next thing I notice are… pockets! These would be useful… maybe. I have nothing to put in them though. My uncle Kris always claimed that pockets were one of the most useful things a man could have. And he used them… a lot. Whenever he emptied out his pockets he’d pull out various random objects. In one pocket I’ve watched him pull out a whole ring of keys, a hat, his phone, a pack of cigarettes, a screwdriver, and occasionally a pair of sunglasses. Whenever I’d question him about the screwdriver he’d always reply telling me he might need them some day. Even when we would go out for a slice of pizza or a milkshake, he’d constantly carry his screwdriver. I never understood his thought until now as I shove the shaving kit deep into my jean pocket to assure myself that it won’t fall out. Might come in handy…. or something.

 

When I returned to the bedroom I was startled by a light knocking at the door. Slowly I stepped towards the door, looking through the peep hole. Expecting something eery, maybe even my murderer. All I can see is a girl in a uniform pushing a metal trolley. Maybe not a murderer… When I twist the door handle to answer her knocking, I’m unable to push it open. It’s locked.

 

“Excuse me… The door is locked…” I mumbled through the wooden door.

 

“That’s alright sir, we have a key.” 

 

We? Why didn’t she just open the door if she has a key? As if she could read my mind, she continues…  

 

“ We only knocked so that we wouldn’t frighten you with our sudden presence, sir.” 

 

It’s a bit late for that. 

 

I heard a click from the door and it slowly opens. Peeking behind the door, past the woman and the trolley, I see the true dull brick of the hallways. The pale, beige coloring makes my bedroom seem more and more like a movie set than a cozy hotel room. Before I can look any further, the trolley is wheeled into my apparently fake room. 

 

Aside from the trolley, two identical women with matching caps march inside, closing the door behind them. As they passed I made sure to move out of their way and the trolley came to a slow halt. My eyes light up as the twins open the trolley to reveal two pieces of hot french toast and a freshly brewed pitcher of coffee. I gratefully accept the breakfast and coffee, although I’m not so fond of the beverage I accept it anyways. Who knows, this could be the last time I ever taste coffee. The scent reminds me of my dad. He’d always drink the cheap kind from the pot in the mornings and would smell of it when waking me up. 

 

As I sipped the bitter drink and cut into the gooey toast, the two black-haired girls remained in front of the trolley. Although the air became a bit uncomfortable, I enjoy my meal. These girls are obviously twins. I think to myself. Their faces are a dead giveaway. Regardless, it is not difficult to distinguish one from the other. The girl standing on the left has her hair tied down to the right and is dressed in lilac. The latter has her hair tied down to the left and wears a light shade of pink, similar to that of a peach. 

 

After I finished my breakfast I’m lead into the dusty hallway behind the two girls and the trolley. As I leave the room I become more aware that my room is less like a low-quality hotel room or even a movie set at that, and is rather more a prison cell that was made up for guests. Both girls seem to know the bending stairwells and passages by heart. I know for a fact I would not be able to navigate these maze-like halls alone. I gaze around as we approach giant glass doors and what looks like a hotel lobby. Before pushing me out through the building exit, the girl in pink hands me an apple. 

 

“In case you get hungry.” The lilac twin states. 

 

I thank her kindly.

 

The glass doors behind me shut abruptly and all that remains is a bright red, juicy apple in my hand. I attempt to shove the apple into my pockets for later like my uncle would have done, but it doesn’t fit and I curse under my breath. After a few moments of struggling with my pockets, I’m approached by a large man in a bell boy uniform, the outfit doesn’t seem to particularly suit his broad shoulders. He leads me down the front steps of the overwhelmingly plain building towards a car that is waiting at the bottom. It’s freshly washed, black paint painfully reflecting light into my eyes. I can feel the hair on my tail puff up and I shiver as the man places his hand on my back.

 

“Byun Baekhyun, right this way please.”  

 

He already knows my name… Looking around curiously I step into the clean car and relax into the back seat.

 

It smells like a taxi cab.. maybe it’s because of the beige leather. My muscles relax as I let the familiar smell invade my mind. Minutes pass and I grow tired of waiting. Why haven’t we left the building driveway yet?  

 

“Excuse me…” 

 

I lean forwards to grab the driver’s attention. 

 

“Why haven’t we left for wherever it is you might be taking me already?” I ask as if matters whether I’m late, even though I don’t know where I’m headed. He might be taking me to my death, but I still ask. 

 

“I was informed that you will be traveling with another passenger, sir.” 

 

Oh no… no, no, no… I don’t want to share this car with some stranger. 

 

Trying to do something about my boredom, I give up and stare out the window. Slowly gnawing on the apple I kept in my hand. For a while there was a silence, until I heard a deep voice approaching the car. The door opens to reveal an overgrown dude in a tiny gown barking questions at some staff member who obviously wants none of it. I just stare in awe at this guy who seems to have trouble just falling into the car. I didn’t even care about whatever he was blabbering at the woman until he spoke my name. Next thing I know I’m locked in the backseat with this disheveled mess and subconsciously scoot away from the huge stranger. To make things worse he’s a hybrid, and obviously a dog. Compared to me he seemed a bit too jolly to be stuck in this car, tail wagging and all. Ignoring the bags sitting under his big puppy eyes. 

 

“Who’re you.” I object, not breaking eye contact with this giant man-puppy.

 

“P-Park Chanyeol…” he responds cautiously, ear twitching.     

 

Never heard of him. So why does he know my name? Why does everyone know my name around here? It’s creeping me out. I try and brush it off. 

 

Then the dumbest thing happens… He asks if this is my car. Of course, me -- a teenager, let alone hybrid, would own this car. I’m not even driving it! As if! 

 

“Of course not…” I continue.

 

 Is this guy actually crazy? I wish this were my car… 

 

He proceeds to answer my question which wasn’t really the intention when I asked why he thought this is my car. The other’s awkward explanation makes more sense than I thought it would and I feel a bit bad. Really this guy’s on the underside of things, he’s the one stuck in a gown after all. I turn towards the window to avoid his gaze and the car starts to move.After a few minutes of staring out the window, the tall man squirms around in his seat a bit and opens his mouth.

 

“Do you know where we are going perhaps?” he inquires shyly.

 

“No idea.” I reply in bitter honesty. Really, I feel like I should be asking this overgrown dog some questions instead.  

 

“Why are you wearing a gown?” I pry, looking him up and down. 

 

I’m genuinely curious as to why he’s not dressed in legitimate clothes like me. Is he even wearing anything under that?

 

“Why aren’t you?” He seems pissed. 

 

I was the one who asked first… 

 

I tell him the honest truth but his expression just becomes increasingly angry with each word I speak. He then decides to enlighten me on his story as if it isn’t already obvious. I could tell he was stuck in a legit prison cell solely by his appearance and hold back the urge to laugh.

 

“Really?” I respond sarcastically hoping he’ll get a hint.

 

 I even continued, over exaggerating my privileges. 

 

“... I had a shower and everything.” The water didn’t run though. I don’t tell him that.

 

“You can’t be serious.” His voice deepens under his breath.

 

“I’m serious… you asked.” I trail off, feeling a bit mean after having bragged relentlessly to the miserable giant-like human.

 

After a silence resulting in me feeling increasingly guilty and a little bit shy, I try and come up with a conversation starter.     

 

“So…” I glance to my side shyly. 

 

“Why do you know my name again?” 

 

I can hear his breath hitch at the question. 

 

“I don’t think you’ve asked before, but we go… I guess we went to the same school.” 

 

We did? Those words make me feel a bit more comfortable in my seat. I guess we’re not total strangers. Maybe it’s because we share a familiar past? I feel a bit apologetic. Although that doesn’t really answer my question… I’ve never met him before so why does he know my name?

 

Regardless, we begin reminiscing about our school life and teachers as if it were so far back in our pasts. Slowly I become less annoyed by the friendly dog’s presence. Maybe we could have even become friends if we met before this. I think to myself, mourning my previous lifestyle a bit in the process. 

 

It’s obvious at this point that wherever we are going, the ride is going to be excruciatingly long. We’ve only been one hour into the ride with no sign of stopping. Together we chatted about Jonghyun and Kibum. I told Chanyeol about my dream with the creepy hut and he confirmed that Kibum would definitely be willing to analyze it for me. Apparently “Key” as Chanyeol refers to him, kept trying to convince him that hybrids really do exist before the story had been released in the news. I giggle at the expression Chanyeol makes when he tells stories about Kibum.

 

“... He acts like such a diva all the time and I’m the one who has to deal with it.” He rants so strongly about his close friend.

 

“So, why do you call him Key?” I ask out of curiosity. 

 

“I don’t really remember exactly…”  Chanyeol stares at the floor for a moment until he’s reminded of how the nickname came to be. 

 

“I think I said it once because it was shorter but then Key wanted me to keep it. It “sounds more fabulous” or something…” he zones off with the most serious expression resting on his face. Then out of nowhere I begin to giggle. I laugh until my chest feels like it’s going to explode. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed this hard at something that seems so small.

 

“W-What’s so funny?” the embarrassed dog asks with a slight red creeping across his cheeks. 

 

“It’s your face!” I keep cackling.

 

“Should I be offended?” He looks confused but starts to laugh along with me.

 

His laughter is also hilarious, triggering me to laugh even harder which didn’t seem very possible at this point. Chanyeol follows, tail wagging uncontrollably. Before I know it, we both are leaning forwards in our seats, clutching our sides. I don’t know what made this situation so much funnier than it would have been on any another day. Maybe it’s because I’m traveling to my possible death with an almost complete stranger…  who I oddly don’t mind so much. Maybe it’s because for the first time and potentially last in my life, I’m so deeply intrigued by a single person. His eyes, his deep voice, his lankiness. Everything. After the fit dies down, Chanyeol in takes a deep breath and lets out a low sigh before releasing one last, throaty chuckle. I giggle a bit, creating more shooting pains in my side before letting out a sigh as well. 

 

You’re pretty funny, Chan.” I think aloud.

 

 “Thanks,” He replies breathily. 

 

“Wait, did you just call me Chan?” He asks, snapping his head towards me.  

“Yeah…” I mumble, confused by the shock on his face. The shock turns into something else and his eyes light up, lips twisting into a smile. What’s he thinking… 

 

“If you call me Chan, then you have to let me call you Baek.” he said, wagging excitedly. I hiss when he accidentally hits me with the surprisingly fluffy but solid tail. 

 

“No.” I reply bluntly. I barely know him, why should I let him call me that.

 

“Why.” A determined look now set into his eyes. 

 

“Because.” He’s staring straight into mine and it’s then I notice how brown they are up close. I thought they were black. 

 

“Because of what?” So persistent… I guess it’s okay…  I also referred to him informally. 

 

“Because I say so.” I mumble.

 

“I’m still calling you Baek.” He turns to face the front seat and smirks, leaning back onto the old leather cushion. 

 

 

 

 

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