Minseok idly picks around his food, pushing a clove of garlic into the charred face of a slice of green pepper. He imagines if the green pepper could talk, it would curse out the garlic and threaten to beat it to a bloody pulp. Green peppers are violent like that. Probably the bosses of all the big vegetable mafias.

“Minseok, you shouldn’t play with your food.”

Kicked out of his imagination, Minseok sets his chopsticks down and lifts his head to look at Kris on the other side of the table.

It isn’t often they sit down together and eat at the small dining table taking up way too much space in their equally as small kitchen. It’s even less often that they eat in the kitchen and it’s actually Minseok’s cooking and not take-out.

Sighing, Minseok picks up his bowl of stir fried pork and various vegetables and carefully dumps its contents into Kris’ bowl. He sets the dishware to his left and aligns his chopsticks around the rim.

“You’re not going to eat?” Kris asks.

Minseok shakes his head. He doesn’t have much of an appetite tonight.

Kris searches his face but Minseok doesn’t know what he’s hoping to find in the soft press of his lips or the calm in his eyes. To his surprise, Kris reaches over to Minseok’s pushed aside bowl and starts to shift a bit of food back into it before the older man catches his wrist.

Shaking his head again, Minseok moves Kris’ hands away from his side of the table and urges him to finish eating. “I’m really not hungry,” he assures, smiling gently.

Seconds pass before Kris nods his head and continues his meal. Minseok waits for a heartbeat longer before placing his elbows on the table.

“I’m going to stay over at a friend’s house this weekend,” he says simply and with confidence. There is no point in beating around the bush until its leaves cry and beg for mercy.

Kris pauses with a cut of meat hovering just outside his mouth. Tilting his head to the side, he drops the morsel back into the dish and pushes it aside just as Minseok did minutes before.

“No.”

And as Minseok doesn’t have an appetite, he doesn’t have the patience to deal with Kris’ behavior tonight either. He wasn’t in the mood for his human right to choice and decision-making to be impeded because Kris doesn’t know when to stop.

“I’ll probably be back on Saturday, but, who knows, I might not come back until Sunday.”

“You’re not going anywhere this weekend,” Kris presses.

Minseok picks at the dirt beneath one of his fingernails. “I can make something for you to eat while I’m gone but I think three more days of take-out won’t kill you,” he continues, ignoring the deepening crease between his boyfriend’s brows and the flex of his muscles as result of his growing annoyance.

“Minseok,” the blond mechanic grits out between clenched teeth. The actor in training can feel Kris’ anger rolling off his body in heat waves.

“I’ll call to remind you to take your medicine before bed, okay?” With a small chirp at the end of his question, Minseok graces Kris with a charming, toothy, and teasing smile.

Raising his eyebrows and taunting Kris for a response, Minseok slides out of his chair and walks out of the kitchen. He’s barely out of the door before he hears Kris’ chair scraping against the kitchen floor, singing out in friction’s protest like nails on a chalkboard. He’s barely three steps into the hallway before his wrist is strangled and he’s being whipped around and slammed into the door frame.

Glaring up at the taller man, he jerks his wrist in a feeble attempt to stop the strangling of his circulation. He doesn’t dare let the effects of the stinging pain betray him or the look of defiance set clear on his face.

It’s been way too long; he can’t deal with this anymore. He’s tired of the lack of control he has over his own body, tired of having to carefully hide his body from the curious eyes of others beneath over sized clothes and copious amount of makeup, tired of voluntarily repressing himself because he’s simply too annoyed to do anything else.

“Are we really doing this again, Minseok? It gets annoying to have to constantly remind you that you don’t go anywhere I don’t want you to or tell you to.” Kris sighs, just the epitome of calm on the outside but Minseok can see his emotions in his eyes, can feel it in his wrist. “And to think you’re being so disrespectful too, especially when I’m always so nice to you.”

Minseok doesn’t hold back the sarcastic laugh that leaps from the very pit of his stomach and out of his mouth. “. You,” he enunciates.

He’s caught by a sudden, and familiar, dizzy spell but that doesn’t stop him from spitting in Kris’ face and ripping away from the collection of ridiculousness he calls his boyfriend.

At the hissed curses from Kris, Minseok feels a nauseating churning in his stomach and he quickens his pace down the hallway and toward their bedroom.

“Oh, so we’re playing this game, are we, Minseok?” Kris laughs humorlessly from down the hall.

Breath quickening and heart constricting in his chest, Minseok slips into their bedroom and slams the door shut, locking it behind him. Resting his weight on the wooden slab meant to serve as a form of protection, Minseok closes his eyes.

“Please don’t do this to me right now. I can’t break down tonight. Why don’t you have better timing?” the emotional male wonders aloud as a steady build of tears easily breeches the tight squeeze of his eyelids.

Heart skipping a beat when the doorknob jiggles, Minseok shakes his head frantically, trying to clear his clouding mind.

“Minseok baby, come on out. I’m not going to hurt you. Let’s talk like civilized people, hm?” Kris attempts to persuade him.

Attempting to calm his breathing so he doesn’t panic, Minseok doesn’t respond. It’s a lie, he knows it. He can pick apart the threatening tone of voice from the seemingly harmless words. The next jiggle of the doorknob sends a scream running from the throat, saving itself from the fear eating away at Minseok’s body.

“Minseo—”

“NO!” Minseok screams again. He slides down the length of the door and brings his legs into his chest. “No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.”

There is silence on the other side of the door, the only sounds to be heard being Minseok’s mantra and the noise from outside that permeates the thin walls. When Minseok’s words dissolve into gibberish, Kris knocks on the door instead of trying the handle.

“Baby, open the door. I’m really sorry for scaring you. Xiumin, open the door.”

“Leave me alone!”

Kris sighs, resting his forehead on the door. He stands there listening to Minseok sob and mutter and gag over his words for half an hour. When the screaming and crying dies to a minimum and an eerie quiet settles, he backtracks down the hallway. He sifts through the keys sitting in the bowl on the table just outside the front door and finds a small key at the bottom. Walking back to their bedroom, he pushes the key into the lock and twists until the door clicks open.

The door resists opening and he squeezes his body through the too restricting opening.

Minseok is curled into himself, turned and lying on his arms strangely from being pushed by the door as it opened.

Sighing again, Kris tosses the key onto the surface top of the bureau. He crouches. Curling an arm around his legs and the other around his shoulders, he hefts Minseok up and carries him to their bed.

Minseok awakens to the agressive streaming of light through the fabric of the bedroom curtains. It stains the walls with splotches of shade but flashes bright in his face. Grunting, he rolls over onto his stomach and pulls his pillow over his head. He lies there, the back of his neck chilled by the cool of the unused pillow side. He isn't sure what time it is but it surely is too early for him to be awake. He has a headache and he can barely remember what happened last night beside crying until he felt like was going to throw up.

Reminded of the events of the previous night, Minseok sits up. The pillow bounces off the bed and falls to the floor, but he doesn't notice it as he looks to the other side of the bed. The linens are cleanly made. Kris doesn't know how to smooth back sheets this neatly. He slept alone last night. Glancing over his shoulder, he frowns. The door is wide open.

Ruffling his hair, he drops his tense shoulders.

"Kris?" Minseok calls. "Yifan?"

Obtaining no response, he picks the pillow up off the floor and tosses it back up against the headboard. Climbing out of bed, he stretches. His body feels heavy and he whines because he hates sleeping in his day clothes.

Someone knocks at the door before he can strip himself of his garments and go through his morning routine.

Usually when Minseok answers the door for guests when Kris isn't home, it's either their landlord or one of their neighbors fixing a mixed up mail issue, so when the first thing he sees is a set of teeth, he promptly has a heart attack. He stumbles back in surprise, hand clutching the fabric of his simple black shirt right above where his heart is trying to beat like tribal drums out of his chest.

Chanyeol grins down at him.

"Surprise~" the tall man sings.

Minseok regards him with wide eyes while taking deep breaths to control his heart rate. As soon as he calms, he chokes out a confused: "W-What are you doing here?"

Shouldn't he be working? Or studying? Or practicing? Or doing something that isn't standing outside his apartment door?

"We're spending quality time together, silly," Chanyeol answers, sounding like Minseok just asked him if the sky is blue and if water is wet.

Chanyeol grabs for the wrist Kris held yesterday and Minseok pulls away with a gasp. The blond man makes a face and reaches for Minseok's other wrist.

"I can't go out anywhere with you," Minseok says quickly. "I mean, I just woke up and I haven't even brushed my teeth yet and these are the clothes I wore yesterday."

Blinking, Chanyeol sniffs and pushes past Minseok into the apartment. "You have fifteen minutes."

When Minseok exits the bathroom with fresher breath, dressed in a blue plaid button-down and simple blue jeans, he finds Chanyeol sprawled out on his back on his couch. The part-time mechanic assistant has his eyes closed and Minseok would think him to be sleeping if not for the way he closes and opens the blade of his switchblade. Stopping in the middle of the hall, he opens his mouth to alert the younger of his presence, but Chanyeol closes the blade and turns his head in Minseok's direction, opening his eyes without him making a noise.

"Fourteen minutes and thirty seven seconds. Close call."

Swinging his legs over the side of the couch, Chanyeol stands and walks over to Minseok. He pockets his blade before they're within arms-length.

Minseok is sure he looks disturbed. "You were really keeping time?"

Chanyeol shrugs. "Not exactly. I just know long it takes me to work the blade in and out. Now let's go."

"You're a ing idiot," Tao says, opening the register and placing the bills in the correct slots.

Chanyeol leans back on his palms, uncaring of the customers giving him dirty looks for sitting on the counter. He shrugs his shoulders and looks to the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan revolve. The insult doesn't bother him. Having heard it from his parents and his teachers and his nonexistent friends has made him immune to any hurt that otherwise would arise.

"What goes on in your mind, Chanyeol? He thinks he's going to wake up one night and you're going to be hovering over him with a butcher knife in hand," Tao continues, closing the drawer harshly.

Ignoring the slam of the register, Chanyeol starts to kick his feet. "I prefer chainsaws for my stereotypical crazed horror movie killings." His heels bang against the side of the counter.

A woman waiting in line makes an offhand comment about how he's being disruptive to the busines and he turns his attention from the ceiling fan in order to wiggle his eyebrows at her.

Tao punches him in the shoulder with enough force to bruise. That's okay too. He's taken worse hits.

Looking at the fan once more, he frowns.

"And do you suppose your half-assed attempts are helping any more than mine? I know all of his weaknesses, his fears, his limits, and his breaking points. We have a history and I'm the only person who knows everything about him. Kris knows nothing compared to me. I may be a bully, but I'm not stupid, Tao. Trying to softly push him in the correct direction isn't going to do . He's trying to leave, but he doesn't know how." Chanyeol glances at Tao out of the corner of his eye. He's ringing up a glittery-eyed trio of teenage girls.

"But we'll see what happens. Either he takes to your turtle and hare approach, I send him over the edge, or Kris messes everything up even more. My plan may not fit your liking, but know that I'm doing this for all of us. Kris can see it too. Xiumin's freaking out even if he doesn't recognize it. Kris has two options but we all know he is only going to think of one."

Slipping off the counter, Chanyeol shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Despite popular belief, I'm not the same Park Chanyeol any of you used to know."

Minseok shuffles out of the bathroom to see Tao alone at the register. He scopes the busy shoppe for the tall, blond haired man. Entering the staff-only area, Minseok inches up to Tao.

"Where's Chanyeol?"

Tao sighs before putting on a smile to wave at the small boy who just paid for his yogurt.

"He left."

Minseok feels no guilt at the sigh of relief that rushes off his tongue. He nods and observes as Tao finishes ringing up the people in line. Once the last group of girls walks away giggling, Tao places a hand on his shoulder.

"Minseok—"

"Xiumin," Minseok corrects.

Deciding to humor the older man today, Tao relents. "Xiumin, you trust me, right? You tell me everything that makes you upset or that's wrong with you, right?"

Minseok blinks and lets out a shaky laugh.

"O-Of course. I would never keep anything from my best friend."