Baekhyun doesn’t want to see anyone. He’s ready to ignore the ringing doorbell and buzzing phone, but his guest starts pounding on the door. If they keep it up, he’ll be reported for noise. Spitting a wet petal off his lip, he peeks through the fisheye and feels his stomach drop but unlocks the door.

Jongdae opens it himself, not waiting for an invitation or rejection.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" Hello to you, too.

He means well, though. Baekhyun thinks he does, at least.

After greeting the eager Corgi jumping up his legs, Jongdae ushers them all into the apartment. He makes an immediate beeline for paper towels to drop onto piddle puddles Baekhyun didn’t notice.

That’s right; he’s not left his apartment in a while. That means his dog hasn’t either.

With that realization, he recognizes the stink of business and gathers up soiled potty pads without gagging due to sheer willpower. He holds open the bag for Jongdae to deposit the paper towels and double-knots it. It joins another bag on his balcony, waiting for their turn to be taken to the dumpster.

“Have you eaten? No one’s heard from you in a couple days.” Not since that happy gathering of friends and buddies and pals. A chance to hang out and drink and goof around and have clean fun without caring about consequences or potentially hurt feelings.

“I had some coffee.”

Jongdae's raised brows ask When?, but his voice states, “That’s not food.” Baekhyun isn’t about to argue technicalities. He sits at his kitchen island and lets Jongdae paw through his refrigerator. Some things are tossed; he catches the scent of some leftovers that have gone bad and doesn’t miss them. The eggs are still good, and some vegetables are firm with only a couple little dark, soft spots.

A pan clatters onto the stove. It ticks and ignites, quickly melting the butter Jongdae drops into the pan.

Baekhyun yawns. What time is it? Eight o’clock. In the evening? He shouldn’t be tired; he’s slept for nearly two days. It’s been a while since he exercised; that could be it. The life of a slug isn’t very stimulating.

“How’re your cats?” No matter his mood, Baekhyun doesn’t like silence. It’s too quiet. His head feels fuzzy and aches.

“They’re both fine.” Jongdae steadily chops vegetables. The scrape of the knife across the board, pushing them into sizzling butter