a ball of fluff, a giraffe-walrus, and an unlikely meeting

---

It's late, but the city of Seoul is alive with glittering lights. Chanyeol had been working the entire week on the new contract with another company, and he had finally completed it today.

He exits the building into the cool night air, expecting to get some much-deserved rest, and not a ball of fluff that barrels into him and trips onto the hard concrete. 

It's only when the ball of fluff groans in pain, when Chanyeol, in his dazed, 8-hours-of-sleep-per-week zone, finally registers. A (ball of fluff) boy is clutching his ankle and wincing in pain, muttering under his breath. Chanyeol realises he has been staring at the boy the entire time without doing anything to help, and hears Joonmyeon's chiding voice in his head, telling him that he should help others more often. 

So Chanyeol does. 

He bends down and gently, with as much grace as his lanky figure could allow, shifts until he is eye-to-eye with the boy.

"Sorry," he says softly.

The boy stares back with soft, puppy eyes and manages a pained smile. "It's fine. Thank you."
"No, no," Chanyeol insists, starting to feel guilty as the boy's delicate features contort again in pain. He pulls the boy lightly onto his feet and catches him as he stumbles on the ground.

"I think I sprained my ankle," the boy admits, frowning down at his limp foot. 

"Here," Chanyeol says, guiding the boy onto the nearby bench and trying desperately to recall what he should do in circumstances like this. Even with his rigorous upbringing, he's rather clueless. "Should I call somebody to pick you up?" he tries, looking at the boy shift uncomfortably on the cold bench.

"No..." he says. "I'll just... take the bus?" The statement ends in an uncertain tone and Chanyeol, even knowing Yixing and Tao who cannot lie to save their lives, thinks that that was the worst lie he had ever heard. 

"You can't possibly ride the bus in this state," he argues gently. "Do you know your parents' phone number?"
"No," the boy rejects almost immediately and makes a move to stand up. "I'm fine," he insists, although he almost falls as his foot gives way. 

Now, Park Chanyeol was far from an uncaring and unfeeling human being, despite what Joonmyeon would sometimes argue, so he knew for sure that he couldn't just let this poor child go home alone. 

"How about you tell me your address, and I'll bring you home?" he tries, and Chanyeol is preparing himself for rejection because what sane individual in Seoul would tell a stranger their address and get in the same car as them? No one.

"Thank you," the boy says gratefully.

Well apparently, no one but this ball of fluff. 

 Regaining his composure, Chanyeol quickly shakes off his fatigue and gently helps the boy to his feet and shows him the way to his car, which, thankfully, is always parked near the entrance of the Park Corporations building. The boy fumbles with his seatbelt quickly as Chanyeol starts the engine, preparing to head into the worse parts of Seoul. 

"Where do you live?" he asks the boy.
"Regent Hotel Apartment," the boy answers.

Chanyeol feels pride swell in his chest knowing that he has done his good deed for the day. "Alright," he announces. And then he processes the information. "Wait. What?"

"I'm sorry?" the boy asks, peering at Chanyeol innocently. 
"You live in.... Regent Hotel Apartment?" That was in Gangnam and an incredibly expensive place. Coincidentally, it also happened to be where Chanyeol lived. 

Apparently, he had not helped a poor child in need. Instead, he had helped a rich kid?

"Yes. Thank you, sir," the boy says, and Chanyeol shakes his head to clear his thoughts. No matter how rich this boy was, he was still injured, and Chanyeol couldn't leave an injured child on the sidewalk, could he?

"You don't have to call me Sir," Chanyeol tells the boy, trying to start a conversation.

"What should I call you, then?"

"Just call me Chanyeol," he assures the boy. "What should I call you?" 
"Baekhyun," the boy answers, having seemingly no sense of safety. 
"Baekhyun," Chanyeol repeats. 

"Yes, Sir," Baekhyun says, and he shakes his head and corrects himself, "Sorry, Chanyeol-ssi." 

For a rich kid, Chanyeol thinks, this boy is awfully polite. After all, knowing Sehun and Yifan, his expectations of children born with a silver spoon in their mouth are often high-maintenance and demanding. Arrogant and obnoxious. 

Chanyeol ignores the fact that he was also a rich kid. He still is, technically.

It's not important.

---

The ride is fairly silent, and Chanyeol has to make a conscious effort not to watch the colourful artificial lights dance across Baekhyun's porcelain skin, illuminating the soft curve of his nose and the pale rose of his cheeks. When they arrive, Chanyeol steps out first and hurries to help Baekhyun out of the car, offering his arm to the frail boy. 
He really is a child, Chanyeol thinks as he observes how Baekhyun's head reaches only his shoulder and how his elegant fingers grip on his shirt in an adorable way. 

Chanyeol's not creepy. Really, he's not. Totally.

After much limping, Chanyeol and Baekhyun finally arrive at their elevator lobby. 
"What floor are you going to?" Chanyeol asks, holding the door for Baekhyun to hobble in.

"The 16th floor," Baekhyun says.

"Really? I'm also going to that floor," Chanyeol says, and cringes inwardly almost immediately after. No matter how he thinks about that sentence, he cannot un-hear how creepy it sounds. 
Baekhyun pulls his room card out of his pocket and swipes it over the sensor, thankfully looking as though he hadn't noticed how much of a stalker Chanyeol sounded like. 

It's a rather awkward elevator ride, as most