JongIn blinks at the somewhat familiar figure standing on his welcome mat. Soaked in rainwater and shivering slightly.

“What are you doing here?”
Park Chanyeol shifts uncomfortably where he stands, eyes hesitantly looking between JongIn and the inside of the apartment.

“Um, can I come in?”

JongIn doesn't speak for a moment as he glances at Chanyeol. “Kyungsoo's not here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chanyeol says with his baritone rumble. “I, uh, saw him leave. Can I come in? It's kind of important.”

“Um, okay,” Jongin stands back and lets the soaked Chanyeol into his apartment. Chanyeol kicks off his shoes and leaves them by the door as JongIn shows him to the living room.

“I'd offer some tea, but I don't have any,” JongIn says when they sit on the luxurious leather couch. Chanyeol's figure is rigid and awkward, and JongIn can't help but notice.

“So,” JongIn says, sort of pointedly. Chanyeol hasn't said anything for several seconds. “How did you find my place?”

“I heard from Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says, perhaps a little too quickly, but JongIn pretends not to notice.

There's awkward silence between them until JongIn asks why he came.

“I'm here because of Kyungsoo.”

“Yeah?”
The hesitation on Chanyeol's face is clear as he sighs uncomfortably. JongIn doesn't like the tension in the air. The horrible foreboding feeling is hard to ignore.

“You have to break up with Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says finally.

JongIn snorts. “What are you talking about? Is this because Kyungsoo was at the hospital? Because he's perfectly fine now and--”

“No, no,” Chanyeol says quietly, biting the side of his lip. “It. It's not that that.”

JongIn waits. “Well? What is it?”

Chanyeol doesn't answer right away, and when he does, his eyes don't meet JongIn's. “For...Kyungsoo's sake, you have to let him go.”

JongIn scoffs. “Like hell.”

Chanyeol turns to JongIn, eyes widening as he speaks. “Please. You have to listen to me. It's best for the both of you. I wouldn't be coming here unless it was an emergency. Kyungsoo and you. You have to break up.”

JongIn gets to his feet. “Why? You'd better come up with some damn good reason.”

Chanyeol gets to his feet too, and it's only then that JongIn remembers Chanyeol's towering stature.

“You really love him don't you?” Chanyeol says.

JongIn nods. He figures it's enough.

Chanyeol sighs. “Then that's going to make things worse.”
JongIn opens his mouth to interrupt, but Chanyeol continues. “Please. Hear me out, okay? You're going to hurt him.”

“I would never hurt Kyungsoo,” JongIn snarls, narrowing his eyes. “Never.”

“No,” Chanyeol says. “You're going to hurt him. When...you die.”

The silence fills the room. Horrible and sticky in the humid summer air. The TV is murmuring in the background. The exaggerated voices reduced to faint, muffled whispers. The sound of afternoon traffic is gone, no longer blaring horns and screeching tires. The air conditioner hums loudly, but the only thing JongIn can hear is the sound of blood pounding in his ears and his uneven breathing.

“What are you talking about,” he says. “I'm not going to die.”

He's not sure whether the latter was a lie or a prayer, but Chanyeol seems to look straight through his words.

“It will happen,” Chanyeol continues. “When your given time is up.”

“H-how did you know that?” JongIn's voice cracks.

“Because,” Chanyeol's eyes suddenly turn sad and regretful. “I know LuHan too.”

JongIn thinks of snorting sarcastically and say that he knows no such person, but Chanyeol's intent gaze keeps him from doing so.

“...Why are you telling me this?” JongIn ask, his voiced hushed.

“I'm trying to help you,” Chanyeol replies gently, sitting back down on the couch as JongIn does the same. “I don't want either of you to suffer. You're a good person. I can tell. And Kyungsoo is too. I can't bear to see either of you just....break.”

“Is that what happened to you?”
Chanyeol shifts. He lets out a sigh. “I guess you could put it that way.”
JongIn watches the way Chanyeol moves. The way his eyes twitch uncomfortably. How they don't meet his. The way his posture is slumped and tired. Maybe his cheerful grins are only masks to cover longing and grief.

“But....you're not dead,” JongIn says. This makes Chanyeol grin a little.

“No, not dead,” he says. “That's a very good observation.”

JongIn frowns, eyebrows creasing together. “I thought you die at the end of your contract. LuHan said--”

Chanyeol sighs sadly, and JongIn realizes he's nothing like the person he figured him to be. “LuHan gets to choose what he wants to take. In your case, unfortunately, it's your...life.”

JongIn is silent. Hearing the words out loud makes it feel more real. He's dying.

“When you make a deal with LuHan,” Chanyeol goes on. “He's entitled to what he wants to take. And when he wants something, he'll take it.”

JongIn doesn't say anything, but lets Chanyeol's words register heavily in his mind.

“He preys on people like us, you know,” Chanyeol says. “He can sense it. Desperation. It's the one thing that can draw him in because he knows you'll do anything.”

“What did you give him?” JongIn asks quietly, his own breath trembling when he speaks.

“Me?” Chanyeol gnaws at the side of his lip, his hands clenching, knuckles white. “My best friend. Maybe you've seen him? His name is Oh Sehun.”

A condolence works its way to JongIn's lips, but he doesn't utter it. He can't bring himself to.

“When I'm lonely or sad, I walk by LuHan's office in Hongdae,” says Chanyeol. “It's nice seeing Sehun's face after a long time.”

“Do you talk to him?”
Chanyeol shakes his head. “No, never. I can't. I feel like if I talk to him, I should apologize. But of course, he wouldn't remember me. LuHan erased his memory, just like he erased Kyungsoo's. I should apologize for twisting his life around just for my own gain. How can I tell him that I literally sold him for a life of stardom? It's sad, isn't it.”

Neither says anything for a long time. Chanyeol's eyes are blurring with saline liquid, but he doesn't let them fall. JongIn gets to his feet.

“No.”

Chanyeol looks up at him. “What?”

“It's not sad,” JongIn says. “It's pathetic. You're the one who's pathetic, for not trying. You should have tried to talk to him. Get his memory back. It worked out for me and Kyungsoo. It's not the same, but it's enough. I just want to spend time with him. The accident that happened took him away from me and I just wanted more time--”

Chanyeol stands. “That's what I'm trying to tell you. More time. The time you asked for, it's not worth it. In a few months, you'll be dead, and what do you think will happen to Kyungsoo?”
JongIn is silent, feeling Chanyeol's desperation and impatience clouding the air.

“Did he tell you?” Chanyeol asks quietly.

“Tell me what?”

“He quit,” Chanyeol says. “Being a singer. He shredded his agency contract yesterday in front of our company president. He spent almost all of his hard earned savings repaying our agency like our contract says if you want to quit. The call he just got—the reason he just left—is from the bank. He has to sort out all of his finances. He gave everything up. For a life with you.”

The pieces start to fit together. Skipping out on vocal practices and going to the dance studio. Never going back to his own place. It all made sense. JongIn remains quiet.

“He's giving everything he has up just to be with you,” Chanyeol goes on. “He believes you'll be together forever, and life will be just fine. But what will happen when you're gone? In, what, a few months? It'll kill him. It'll destroy him. Everything he worked for, gone, just like that. The agency won't take him back. He won't be happy.”

JongIn doesn't say anything at all. He barely lets out a breath, his heart catching in his chest in the most burning, painful way. His silence tells Chanyeol that he's said enough.

“It's your choice,” Chanyeol says eventually, pulling the front door open. The humid summer air blowing inside. “Make it.”

When he shuts the door, he leaves JongIn feeling more alone and hurt than ever.