“Okay, so I am here to do chandelier shopping, because I am the janitor. Might I ask why this resulted into all eleven of you coming here as well?”

There is no answer, and the silence unnerves Joonmyun. It overshadows him and scares him, because the members of Buffalo Law and Co. are far from quiet. They are loud and boisterous and disrespectful (Hey, Joonmyun is not the eldest, but that doesn’t stop some people –Jongdae- from coming up with names like Gramps). The only explanation is that they have unknowingly died in the last twenty seconds, which is totally reasonable.

Joonmyun spins around and instead of seeing the eleven people that he expects to see there, the only sight that meets him is a lone Kyungsoo standing there, blinking at him with wide eyes. Joonmyun stares at him, and Kyungsoo stares back at him, just as confused. No words are uttered for a long time. Joonmyun is the first to speak.

“Where are the others?” When Kyungsoo gives no reply to Joonmyun, the latter can sense that hell is going to go down; literally.

Howdy people, if you have only just tuned in to today’s episode of ‘The Disastrous Life of Joonmyun’, the protagonist himself is about to commence a mission that will take all his energy. Yes, it’s the rounding of ‘The Ten Wild Beasts.’

Joonmyun groans. He hates this. Utterly and irrevocably. Because he always has to be the good guy (or bad guy, depending how you see it) and recapture the wild employees before they do mass destruction to the shopping centre. He suddenly brightens at one thought.

“Hey Kyungsoo, what do you think of the idea that you will be my trusty sidekick?” The one in question blinks before scrutinising the other.

“For what?”

“Helping me capture these out of control souls and putting them to rest once and for all.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at the proposal and crosses his arms. “And why do I have to that?” he drawls, casting his eyes around the shopping centre in a carefree manner. A grin starts to spread upon Joonmyun’s face and he practically bounds towards the younger male.

“Well,” he starts, flinging off the backpack he is wearing –wait, did he ever have the backpack in the first place? Kyungsoo thinks- before pulling some items out. Kyungsoo watches on, curious.

“First of all, you will have a complimentary set of panda ears, kindly donated by our very own Zitao—”

“Hyung, aren’t those the ones that Zitao said were stolen from him and he would kill the thief—”

“—which is in perfect condition, as you can see. You will also get a free sample of these amazing cookies, baked by our wonderful chef—”

“Aren’t those mine—”

Right now, Kyungsoo is truly wary of how Joonmyun is going to do in the future as a retail salesperson if he becomes one. Because, right now, Kyungsoo does not see any point in why he has to run around, trying to find kids (even if they are older than him) in a crowded shopping centre on a 40  day. Honestly, filing papers sound much more appealing than this work—

“And, you will receive a Pororo DVD that will let you view every episode! This DVD is the only one left, so it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

Okay.

Kyungsoo has to admit, that does sound kinda tempting.

Joonmyun sees that the younger man has suddenly turned indecisive, and a cat-like grin slowly slips upon his face. His prey is weak, and the predator is ready to attack. (Bear in mind, Joonmyun looks absolutely nothing like anything scary).

“Oh, so you like Pororo kiddo?” He drawls slightly, slowly pulling out the DVD out of his bag. He waves it in front of Kyungsoo’s nose before swinging it back and forth, watching in amusement as the other’s eyes follow it, darting to and fro.

Kyungsoo scowls before glaring at the other, “Damn you, janitor.”

Joonmyun shrugs before tossing the DVD up into the air before catching it again smoothly as it travels back down. Judging by Kyungsoo’s outraged expression, Joonmyun assumes that Pororo is something precious to the new intern. Oddly enough (or maybe not--) another particular person likes Pororo…

Joonmyun can almost see the angel and demon sitting on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, whispering reasons why the one in question can or cannot forgo such as dangerous task with such an untrustworthy looking – Hey, does Joonmyun really look that much like a criminal? – fellow.

“Fine.”

Kyungsoo knows he is going to regret that one word when he sees the jubilant grin that spreads over Joonmyun’s face. He knows that he is basically heading into death when he feels the panda ears get plonked onto his head. He knows that he will never see his family again, and that it is a very cruel world. But, honestly, Kyungsoo didn’t care. He has a Pororo DVD for heck’s sake.

Kyungsoo never really understood the meaning of being a ‘sheep dog’, as Joonmyun so very kindly had said just a few moments before, but the only thing he really does understand through Joonmyun’s babble is that he has to round them up, truss ‘em up tight, and he’ll be set to go.

Something like that anyway. Maybe Joonmyun was a cowboy in his past life. However, there is one small problem that Kyungsoo really wants to address.

“Hyung,” Kyungsoo starts, staring behind at the former, “If you are so desperate to find these apparent ‘lost souls’,why exactly are you sitting at a café and eating donuts all of a sudden?”

Joonmyun splutters on said donut and he looks slightly miffed, as if Kyungsoo’s question is ‘why do you have ten heads’.

“Consider this as your training Kyungsoo-ah,” he says hurriedly, eyes not meeting the younger, “Imagine you are my apprentice, and that I am an old man—”

“You kinda are in a way.”

“—and you have to take over me as ‘Great Leader’ when I die. Now, this is the first test that you, brave fellow, must pass. And with that comes great responsibility, perseverance and bravery.” Joonmyun takes a deep breath before slouching back into his seat. He grins at Kyungsoo.

“Not too bad for an impromptu speech, is it? I should get a gold star for this achievement.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the janitor’s endless squabbling because seriously, he doesn’t really care that Joonmyun’s English teacher had constant diarrhoea, which resulted to him never learning the art of making stuff up on the spot. However, something interesting catches his eye and he tugs at the sleeve of the elder.

“I think I have found your first ‘soul’ hyung.” Kyungsoo directs a finger in the distance and Joonmyun follows it, squinting slightly (damn, he really should’ve brought his glasses). However, he soon spots what Kyungsoo is staring it and whistles.

“Holy crapadoodles.”

-

There are three things in the world that Park Chanyeol might possibly like as much as (but not more than) Byun Baekhyun, and only one of them can be found in a typical shopping centre.

The first is his pet called Rock. When he had picked it up from the cold, barren earth oh so long ago (Read; when he was ten), he had of course, assumed it to be a rock, hence the name. As it turns out, Chanyeol’s young, ten year old self had perceived the piece to be what it was not –

Upon bringing the object home, his mother had shrieked and proclaimed it to be dried dog poo. It even had bits of dry yellow stuff that looked suspiciously like corn. Ten year old Chanyeol did not know if dogs could eat corn, but nonetheless Rock had (Sadly) been instantly disposed of. Even so, to this day it still lives on in Chanyeol’s (Deep, highly questionable and Baekhyun-loving) heart.

The second thing which Chanyeol can quite possibly like as much as if not more than Byun Baekhyun is the mop of noodle-like hair he had sported at the tender age of sixteen. All his friends had proclaimed that it was unsightly and that all he achieved was looking like he was walking around with noodles in his hair (on one such occasion, he had been – ramen had been spilt, a shower had been ignored, and the scent of salty broth had followed him around for the better part of a week), but Chanyeol had been convinced – still is convinced – that its awesome might is one that can only be rivalled by an afro.

Chanyeol thinks that in the near future he might consider an afro. A bright purple fluffy afro. He will pair it with a silk yellow shirt and a gold medallion because he is a good, conscientious artist and knows his complementary colours (red and green, blue and orange are the others he remembers) and ask Byun Baekhyun out to a very nice romantic (expensive) restaurant. It is obviously a very good plan, the only flaw being that he doesn't have the money necessary. One day, he vows!

Of course, there is still one more thing that Park Chanyeol just might like as much as if not more than Baekhyun.

This thing is of course, food.

To be more precise, an eating contest.

To be quite honest, Chanyeol is not sure how he winds up seated here at a table occupied by five contestants including himself. From left to right there is a fat man, another fat man, a fat woman, Chanyeol, and a scrawny little kid who eyeing the table with a gleam in his greedy little eyes. Funny, because the table hasn’t even got any food on it yet. Chanyeol is still wondering how he ended up here. Ah well, he’s here anyway and he had been previously wondering what to purchase for lunch – this will solve all his issues quite nicely because-

“Free food, hells yeah!” Fat-man-number-two yells before proceeding to fist-pump the air.

Fat woman lets out a loud belch.

Chanyeol blanches.

He’s about to rise and step down from the stage because oh god these people are nuts when a gleaming spotlight shines down on the platform out of nowhere and a figure begins ascending the steps.

A secondary spotlight then switches on to illuminate the figure, and Chanyeol lets out a Dramatic Gasp, so capitalised because the sight before him is that majestic and shocking.

“Jongdae, what the hell are you doing?” he yelps, pointing an accusing finger right at the other.

Jongdae whirls around with a hair-flick that can make a shampoo model weep, before his own eyes widen comically and he whips back around (this time, with a much less elegant and meaningful toss of his mane) and proceeds to hum what sounds suspiciously similar to the national anthem… of America.

“HUMMMM HMM HMMMMM-“ He finishes with a bang (or well, a slight crack of the voice), before clearing his throat and pretending nothing happened when obviously something did, only he’s not acknowledging it because (this is what the almighty Park Chanyeol has deduced) Jongdae is what one may formally call a ‘ninconpoop’.

“We are here to announce the first ever tenth annual ramen-eating contest!” the receptionist-turned-shampoo-model-announcer gestures dramatically to the table behind which the contestants sit.

Lowering his voice to what is probably meant to be a dramatic whisper but really just makes him seem like he’s trying too hard to be cool, he then makes a grand (flail) motion. “Now see, the rules are simple. Whoever eats a bowl of ramen in the fastest time wins!” he declares, and as soon as he does a loud uproar comes from the crowd and two assistants (or at least, Chanyeol presumes them to be assistants) wheel out a tray on which five absurdly large bowls of ramen rest.

It's like I'm eating the hair of my past self, Chanyeol cannot help but to pitiously think.

“Oh, and I forget to mention!” Jongdae continues, all chipper-like. “If you win, you get a prize!”

A third flashlight gleams down onto the stage, illuminating the shadow of a seated figure. Gasps instantly sound from the audience; whether of shock or delight no one knows.

Almost instantly the light flickers back off and the shadow disappears, and a murmur of questions ride the crowd like a tidal wave, crashing down finally over Chanyeol as he wonders what’s happening.

Jongdae grins and his suspicions are verified. A happy Jongdae is never a good thing.

“The grand prize of this eating contest is an adorable man by the name of Byun Baekhyun!” he announces cheerfully with a flourish. A muffled cry of ‘Help!’ can be heard from backstage, and Chanyeol swears his jaw cannot possibly drop any lower.

Oh hell no.

No one messes with the prospective future-lover-and-hopefully-husband-of-Park-Chanyeol-who-would-have-to-suffer-his-terrible-morning-breath-if-they-do-marry.

No one.

Jongdae directs a smirk to Chanyeol, cups a hand and gives a dainty wave befitting of a queen.

The tall giant considers flipping him off.

He’s totally going to win this contest.

-

Luhan loves shopping centres. Love with a capital ‘L’.  

If shopping centres were a human, Luhan would drop onto his knees, take a ring (a candy one of course; Luhan can’t afford the expensive stuff) out of his back pocket, and ask for them to get married as soon as possible. Unfortunately, shopping centres aren’t actual people, and he has to settle with strolling through them, because that’s as close as he can get to marrying them.

Luhan whistles before sneaking a look around. Due to his very extensive and extraordinary ninja slash spy skills –though, it could just be the fact that it is Joonmyun who is in charge of this shopping extravaganza- he has managed to get away from the animals that are Buffalo Law and Co.  Now, no chains bound the deer anymore.

Luhan has not felt this feeling in a long time. It is a feeling of freedom, a feeling that he can conquer the world. He considers yelling at the top of his lungs, “I AM A FREE MAN, BABY!”, but that might cause a bit of unwanted attention. Attention that an oh-so-pro-and-awesome spy can never receive, because that wouldn’t make the oh-so-pro-and-awesome spy oh-so-pro-and-awesome anymore.

Skipping through the shopping centre (sneakily of course), Luhan skids to a halt as something catches his eye. Something extremely interesting. It’s Chanyeol, sitting in the middle of table, stuffing his face with ramen as fast as the speed of light, while looking anxiously at some curtains behind on a stage.

Well, it is definitely a first for Luhan to see Chanyeol so dedicated in doing something, anything as a matter of fact. If only he worked like that back at the law firm! Then again, Luhan can’t exactly talk; one cannot call him the most efficient worker in the work place.  

 Luhan is considering whether or not he should go over there and cheer his comrade on (for moral support of course) when he suddenly sees the fat woman on Chanyeol’s side retch out what looks like (rainbows) green coloured gunk. Luhan winces as Chanyeol gets hit with a bit of the spew and slowly edges away. Maybe next time. He would prefer if he could come out of this shopping centre clean and sophisticated, and not look like he had just returned from a million year camp in the swamps.

The encounter of vomiting ladies, however, has not deterred Luhan’s appetite in the slightest. Bounding towards his favourite restaurant, a Chinese one –mind you, Luhan’s extremely patriotic- , Luhan happily orders his favourite meal at the counter. However, instead of the cute Sehun look-alike (wait what?) that usually serves at the station, Luhan jumps one foot in the air when he stares into a pair of familiar eyes.

Familiar doesn’t mean good.

Far from it actually in this case.

“What are you doing Yixing?”

Said guy turns to Luhan, with his signature dreamy look in his eyes.

“Luhan!” Yixing exclaims and leans over the counter to give Luhan a “bro-hug”. Luhan has to think of a way to quickly escape the hug because oh my freaking god, if he hugs me, I am going to get ketchup all over my new top.

Luhan doesn’t exactly know how to reject a hug from a pal, so he decides on holding Yixing at arm’s length and patting him on his head. Now, if this was Sehun or Tao, he would get balled over by emotional cries and sobs of why he was denying them of hugs. But, this is Yixing. Yixing is the epitome of gullible; the God of Naïve.

“I work here of course!”

Luhan eyes Yixing disbelievingly. “Since when?”

“Since always. ” Yixing counters, tapping away at the keypad on the cash register.

“How come I never knew?” Luhan’s brow furrows, because he does not have any recollection whatsoever of Yixing ever working at a restaurant outlet, and Luhan has a pretty good memory if he says so himself.

“Because I only started ten minutes ago.” Yixing hums quietly.

Contradiction is Yixing’s best friend.  Luhan wonders whether or not it is the appropriate time for a facepalm. He thinks no, a facepalm does not fit with this situation at all and settles instead with a head-desk to the counter table.

Luhan decides after a few moments of awkward silence and pained whimpering (because, damn, that table was hard) that he doesn’t really give a crap about Yixing and his new ‘job’. Luhan doesn’t really care that his head is hurting like hell and that he and Yixing are currently receiving weird looks from the public. The stress is all too much.

However, he does care when he hears Yixing shout in alarm. He does care when he feels a rush of heat. And he does care when he turns to look past the counter and spots something not right. To further show that he cares, Luhan screams.

The oven in the kitchen has burst into a burning mess, with flames spreading rapidly throughout the kitchen. Oh gawd, is this is how I am going to die? Killed by a unicorn.

Luhan blocks his face as the fire suddenly expands and he coughs as he turns to Yixing. He spots the other hovering over the fire with a bottle of oil. A bottle of goddamn oil. An empty bottle of oil.

“All liquids are meant to be able to put out fires,” Yixing announces grandly and he glares at the bottle, as if there is some kind of problem within the object, “So, why aren’t you working? Maybe I need to add a bit more…”

No you dumb-, stop right now you stupid unicorn. We are going to die because of that stupid cooking oil, Luhan wants to scream. Obviously, no one has taught Yixing the difference between flammable and inflammable objects. Furthermore, no one has taught the kid about life and death, obviously.

There is a sudden bang of the door and the sizzle of a fire going out. Luhan can only sob in relief as he peers through his fingers because the fire that was about to take his life is finally gone, hissing violently under a puddle of water.  

 Finally freaking gone.

Luhan decides that, to thank his rescuer, he is going to jump up, shower said person with kisses and hugs, and give him that left over lollipop that he has in his pocket. Because, yes, someone saving Luhan’s life is worth as much as an old lollipop.

No, Luhan is not a cheap deer. Not at all.

However, when he meets the eyes of his rescuer, all happy thoughts of kisses and hugs rush out of Luhan’s mind and he kind of wishes that he can leap under the nearest table and just stay there for eternity.

Because so-called saviour is Joonmyun.

As in Janitor Joonmyun.

As in the Joonmyun that Luhan is hiding from.

As in the Joonmyun that oh-so-pro-and-awesome-spy Luhan is hiding from.

As in that Joonmyun.

Luhan ponders upon why it is so hard to get a meal in a shopping centre, as he and Yixing are dragged out of the outlet by their ears, with a janitor nagging at their side. He is a hungry child for god’s sake, and his is growing. (Don’t mind that is in his twenties, because that is completely irrelevant.)

Luhan hates shopping centres. Hate with a capital ‘H’.

-

The bustling mall is the catwalk, and he is the lead model in this latest fashion show. Man-purse swinging to and fro from a dainty wrist, he struts down the sleek creamy tiles that grace the floor, giving a toss of obsidian hair for good measure; never know if anyone may be scouting, eh? Zitao has always known he has a rather attractive face, which is part of the reason why he decided to take up such a (in his opinion) crappy position as a security guard in the Buffalo Law & Co. offices – it’s not because his face will attract clients to the office (which it of course, does), but rather because of it’s convenient location. The high-rise, luxurious and insanity-housing building is located amidst a range of popular idol companies, and Zitao knows it’s only a matter of time until he’s asked to audition by one whom recognises his obviously attractive appearance.

In fact, he reckons it’s so engrained in his destiny that he has already got a speech prepared, 1000 characters on Word, one and a half pages in clear font. None of that Comic Sans business (which to be frank, does not suit Korean writing particularly well anyway).

When Huang Zitao is scouted, he plans to laugh in the face of the scouter, turn his back and strut away, tossing over his shoulder in the sassiest tone known to mankind (sassier than that worker Sehun) “Please, you don’t deserve one such as I!”. The only reason why the speech has made it to 1000 characters is because after that initial opening line, the rest of the piece is comprised of ‘Things that make Huang Zitao fabulous and therefore better than everyone else’.

All thoughts of his budding future glamorous destiny scout aside, the panda-eyed security guard finds that he currently has more pressing concerns.

Eyes wide open and jaw slack on the surface of the floor, it takes a few moments for him to finally gather his wits about him and squeal very loudly and in a voice eerily similar to a 5 year old girl’s, “There’s a sale on at Gucci!”

Tears instantly forming in his eyes, he takes that first step forward to paradise, his sanctuary, to over-priced leather bags, to the one place he truly can call home-

Only to be jerked harshly back to reality upon remembering one crucial fact.

I left my credit card back at the office!

It is all the fault of that blasted Jongdae! He had been the one to wonder aloud who would be paying the expense of a new chandelier, and so Zitao (like many of the others) had opted to stealthily carry with them the bare minimum in cash so they would not have to fork out the necessary dough; such a dismally wrong choice he had made!

Then again, it is still okay. Zitao never uses his own money to buy Gucci products anyway.

A slight smirk tugging at his lips, he pulls out a (very expensive, easily breakable) phone and, after scrolling through his contacts selects one and holds the device up to his ear. It rings a few times.

More than a few times.

It rings for so long that the security guard is beginning to feel very irritated because no one comes between him and his Gucci (completely ignoring the fact that coveting items to such severity is unhealthy), much less one stupid phone call-

“Hello? What do you want?” a gruff voice finally answers from the other side.

“Gege!” Zitao exclaims in what may be genuine happiness, though whether caused due to the one on the other end or the thought of finally being able to purchase more Gucci products, no one will ever know.

“Yes, yes hello to you too,” the other scathingly remarks, before a pause follows. “You didn’t answer the question. What do you want?”

Zitao’s mind is distracted, focusing on the amount of people whom have entered the store he is eyeing so hungrily, like a wolf preparing to devour its prey. However, he manages to successfully drag his concentration and focus back to the conversation, and in as innocent a tone as he can muster responds, “Whatever makes you think I want something?”

There’s a pause, before the one on the other end gives a huff of exasperation. “Huang Zitao. There are many signs that show you require something from me. Would you like me to list them?”

Zitao shrugs, torn between wanting to be polite (at least to this man, it is required) and wanting to hurry the heck up so he can finally go buy the bags of his dreams. “Not really. But do tell anyway.” Hey, there’s only so much politeness he can show when antsy.

“Okay.” The other pauses. Three more people enter the store. Three! What if each one of them purchases an item Zitao requires in his life to sustain his soul? “You sure?”

“Hurry up!” It’s not a whine, it’s not a whine- Oh who’s he kidding, Huang Zitao is whining like a spoiled brat and not caring one bit.

“Evidence number one,” the other drawls slowly, as if knowing that the young security guard is currently suffering from impatience and wishing to milk that for all its worth, “you sounded genuinely pleased when greeting me on the phone. Not to mention, excited. You are never like that unless you’re happy about something, and considering the fact that such a thing does not occur often, I can guess what it is.”

“Go on.”

“Evidence number two,” the other articulates, and oh, Zitao can hear the smirk in his smug voice. “You used your innocent tone. Which to be quite frank sounds like you’re experiencing severe haemorrhoids, so it’s not recommended you use it again.”

Zitao wonders whether he’s allowed to punch the one on the other end. Probably not. He’d land in jail instantly.

“And finally, the last piece of evidence which will draw this case to its clear-cut conclusion…” Jeez, does he want the young male to blow up at him in frustration? “You would never allow me to speak for this long unless you don’t wish to antagonise me. Ordinarily you would have no qualms in stopping me when you want to, so obviously you want me to be in a good mood to whatever favour you want from me. So, spit it out. What is it?”

Huang Zitao, security guard of Buffalo Law & Co., for once in his life feels shame. It’s only for a quick instant though, instantly replaced by the fervent desire and need to purchase.

“Gucci. Sale. I don’t have my credit card. Come here, now.” Simple and effective.

There’s a pause, followed by a sigh on the other end. “Suppose I don’t have a choice, do I. What mall?”

Zitao gives him directions.

“Ahh. Really, out of all the ones you pick the one furthest from me? You’re buying me a new Angry Birds plushie.”

The security guard snorts at the other’s taste which is childish compared to his own, obviously more superior (And expensive) and classy. Nonetheless, he reluctantly agrees, because he really does owe the other a favour (quite a few actually. Not all of which have ever been returned…) and grins in victory.

“Fine, Wufan-ge. Hurry up! The Gucci needs me!”

" Author's Report "

Inspirited -

Hai guise. So. I am dead. Literally. Wolf. Omf. Like. Bye. Lmao. It's been ages, I know. And Chii's obsession with angst is not helping either. I wanna write angst as well for some reason tbh /slapped. But I won't, bc of the love you guise give to Buffalo. Anyways, enjoy chapter o/ And spazz about EXO bc unf. Wolf. xDD

Chii -

Hello everyone! I'm concerned about Inspirited, text talk is seeping into her system faster than you can say "Kris dancing I Got a Boy"... but in any case, it has been /way/ too long since the last update, to which I must apologise profusely because to be frank, it IS my fault-- Iwell in any case, I hope you enjoyed this chapter? (My parts are crappily written but anyway-) Thanks a ton, comment if you have anything to say and see y'all next time! 

(Also, hello and welcome to new subscribers! Ordinarily I'd go around leaving a wall post on everyone' profile if it's public, but I haven't done so for the latest couple so I'm saying this now. Thank you for subscribing and please anticipate this fanfiction!)