“I guess some things never change. You’re overreacting,” Yoora said, her voice calm and soothing as always. Chanyeol’s phone had been ringing with calls from Baekhyun almost every hour for the past two days, Baekhyun leaving message after message. Chanyeol hadn’t bothered to listen to them. He let them go to voicemail as he sulked around his apartment for two days, drinking only coffee and half-heartedly petting Baekhyunnie.

When it rang with Yoora’s number on Saturday afternoon, finally, he picked up immediately, a sense of relief washing over him. Surely, Yoora would be able to help him. “Come on now. It hasn’t been that long since you were in the spotlight with me for skating. You remember how this goes. He has to watch what he says. His career’s on the line.” This wasn’t the advice he was looking for.

“But, you never denied who we were,” Chanyeol countered. He could feel the blood rushing to his head as he hung over the edge of his bed, staring at the ceiling with his head laying on the ground.

“That’s because I didn’t have to hide anything. You were my brother. You’re always my brother. The same way mom and dad are always mom and dad. This is different. You...you were a fan. Not to mention a man. He’ll break hearts and dash dreams, maybe even lose sponsorship deals the moment he confirms something. Not to mention that you’re MY brother.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Chanyeol groaned.

“Of course you didn’t,” Yoora responded. “ You haven’t actually been in the skating world for five years. Not really. You forget that you carry my baggage with you. When you were just a fan, you could slip into the background and no one asked you about Park Yoora because they hardly remembered you without me around. The moment the press wants to start prying into your life, you’re the little brother of Park Yoora. You know how she’s doing, where she’s living, the real reason she quit skating. Suddenly, it’s not just about Baekhyun’s amazing skating. ”

He took a deep breath and tumbled backward off of the bed. He huddled himself into a puddle on top of some blankets. “So what do I do now?”

“Um. No, no. I’m not here to tell you how to live your life Park Chanyeol. That’s not my job.”

“But--”

“No buts! Just remember, he isn’t me. Not all of us decide to give up skating to keep the press out of our love lives.”

Chanyeol was quiet on the other end, running his free hand through his hair, and then he groaned. Yoora clicked her tongue. “I ed this up,” he said finally, the words deflating out of him.

“Yeah, you did,” she said, her tone forceful instead of its usual melodic quality. She sighed. “You need to figure out what you want. Do you want him just because he’s been your ideal man for so long, or because you love him despite anything? Then, you’ll have your answer on what you need to do.”

“Yeah,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. Then, he hoisted himself upright on his bed and flopped against the pillows. “I...I gotta go. I need to figure this out. I love you.”

“I love you too, you idiot. Figure it out and let me know how it turns out,” she said, and then the line went dead.

He tossed his phone to the side and stared at the ceiling. This was not working out the way he had intended. He needed more perspective. He reached for his phone again and sent a text to Sehun and Kyungsoo. ‘Meet me tomorrow for breakfast. The Famous Lamb. My treat,’ it read. Both replies back agreed. He would figure this out. He needed to.