the top of the mountain (the world of the heirs)

---

Baekhyun should have known. He really should have. It's Luhan we're talking about anyways, the sometimes flower-boy sometimes not heir (although he adamantly rejects the position) of the Lu fashion corporation. 

"You look fantastic," Luhan reassures, running a hand through his new honey-brown hair. Luhan is dressed in a white, trimmed suit as he leans casually against the wall, and Baekhyun shuffles again, fidgeting nervously. His suit isn't that much different from Luhan's, except it is a warm, light grey instead of white. It curves at all the right places and stays stiff and proper when it needs to, and Baekhyun hates it. 

He looks too much like the pretty second son of the Byuns he used to be.

Baekhyun raises a hand to ruffle his perfect hair in an attempt to make this mirror image look less polished and look more real. 

Luhan watches him, and his shoulders deflate a little, the smile sliding off his face. 

This is no longer a picture of two sophisticated princes in a fairytale that it was a few moments ago, it is just the shadow of two young, vulnerable children that had to build themselves back together—shaky, but intact. 

"I'm sorry, Baek. I'm being selfish. I'll- You don't have to go if you don't want to. Really." 

"I-" Baekhyun's hands tighten. "No, it's okay. I'm fine, Lu. Don't worry," he unclenches his fists and smiles to prove his point, and although Luhan can see through it, he doesn't point it out.

It is night, the city of Seoul is preparing to sleep, but the party of the wealthy have only just begun. 

---

", Sehun. You look fine. Just come on, we're going to be late!" Chanyeol exclaims, shaking his head exasperatedly at the younger boy. "It's not like you've never been to events like this, okay? Hurry up!" 

"Hyung! Luhan is going to be there! I need to look presentable!" Sehun defends, turning to look at himself in the mirror for the hundredth time, adjusting his tie and tugging at his blazer. ", is that a pimple? Hyung! What do I do?!"

"No, Sehun. It is not a pimple. You look fine. Now, can we go?" 

"But-"

"We're going," Chanyeol says, tone final, and steps outside into the cool night air. He turns back to wait for Sehun, who eventually shakes his head and exits the glittering Oh mansion as well, following Chanyeol. 

Chanyeol gestures at his driver to get the car ready and turns to stare at the velvet navy sky. There is a sprinkle of stars that struggle to make themselves visible against the glimmer of the city lights. 

"Hyung?" Sehun asks, already climbing into the car. 

"Yea, sorry," Chanyeol mutters, clearing his thoughts and making his way towards the parked vehicle. "Let's go." 

The car ride is fairly quiet. Chanyeol shuffles through his phone, mentally making note of all the clients he needs to talk to, the new ones he needs to meet, and the ones he needs to avoid. 

Sehun is luckier—he's still in school, so he doesn't need to worry about the company he will inevitably inherit one day. For now, until he turns of age, he can do whatever he wants. 

Chanyeol doesn't know how good of a businessman the boy would be, but he presumes that it would be an impressive one. The child, in all his mischief, is the carbon-copy of his father, and the old Oh is one of a kind.

Sehun can get whoever he wants with only the introduction of his name as Oh Sehun and a charming smile. 

Yet, he sticks with his older hyungs who he knew as a child. 

Perhaps it is because he is closer to them, but Chanyeol is pretty sure that there is another reason. Children like them are surrounded by people, but it is only because they have money. In the end, it is easier to stay with the other silver-spoons where everybody is in the same boat. 

After all, the higher up you are, the colder and lonelier you will be. 

And tonight, at this party, they will be at the very top. 

---

There are red carpets and the flashes of cameras. There are the sounds of clinking wine glasses, and sizzle of champagne, the tapping of polished shoes against the marble ground. Mellow jazz music flows from the orchestra inside of the ballroom to the entrance of the hotel. 

Baekhyun is comfortable, he is in his element right now: he knows how to walk, how to talk, when to smile, when to pause, who he should bow to, who he should nod to, it is fake-it-until-you-make-it, until eventually everything prints itself into your skin and everything becomes muscle memory. 

Luhan steps out of the car first into the shining lights.

He does not falter.

He smiles confidently and waves at the journalists as if they were his friends, not the dogs who try to tear him apart. For only a split second as he turns back to the car where Baekhyun is, his smile wavers and he pauses, but then Luhan is the Lu heir again, charismatic and flawless. 

When Baekhyun exits, the media rushes forwards like a tide, shouting questions in foreign languages Baekhyun cannot, even in his many years of study, begin to comprehend. 

But Baekhyun is used to this, so he does not hesitate despite the fear and worry that is eating at him right n