A/N: HOLY MACARONI.  Finally got this chapter out.  I honestly cannot tell you how long I've been working on this thing. It's definitely not perfect, and I'm sorry that it's not, but I couldn't find anything else to add or take out of it.  So let me know what you think!  Also, expect more frequent updates,  darlings - I'm feeling the writing vibes again :) 

CH. 16

            His tie was suffocating him.  For the nth time that night, Chanyeol tugged at the knot with a grimace.  His father caught sight of the motion in the rearview mirror and gave him a sharp look.  Chanyeol stilled, and then sat up straight, lowering his hands.  He turned his head to the window, staring blindly at the bright lights of Gangnam. 

            Park Joonhyung had returned home yesterday, a day earlier than Chanyeol and Eunsae had been expecting him.  The doorbell had cut through the Arsenal game that Chanyeol was watching, and the sound of his father’s voice had had Chanyeol dashing out of his room.  He knew it was stupid, but he still got a little fizz of excitement when his father came home after trip.  Maybe it was because a piece of him still clung to the times when his father used to bring him presents and greet him with open arms and a warm smile after one of his trips.  But within seconds of entering the foyer, Chanyeol was once again reminded of the fact that that side of his father was long gone.

            Park Joonhyung had taken one look at Chanyeol’s purpled face and scoffed.  “What a colorful greeting.  I see you so often like this that I forget what you actually look like.” 

            The small, welcoming smile that had been growing on Chanyeol’s face died a swift death.  As always, his father knew exactly how to make him feel small and insignificant.  Chanyeol cleared his throat and ducked his head to hide the bruises he’d gotten from Chen.  “Hello, dad,” he said quietly.  Peripherally, he heard Eunsae shuffle closer to him.

            Joonhyung ignored him, shrugging off his coat and holding it out impatiently.  Eunsae hurried forward to take it.  “Hello Eunsae,” his father said, in a much more even tone.  “Is dinner ready, by any chance?”

            “I can have it out for you in the dining room.  Chanyeol was just going-“

            Joonhyung interrupted with a raised hand.  “I’m in a hurry.  I’ve got to be at a meeting in thirty minutes.  Is that plate there warm?”

            Eunsae glanced back at the plate she had set out for Chanyeol.  “Ah, yes sir, it’s bibimbap, though, if that is fine with you. Chanyeol wanted some tonight.”

            “No matter.”  Joonhyung turned to his son.  “Take my bag upstairs.”

            It was just another typical reunion in the Park household, ending with a curt dismissal and the reminder that Chanyeol was never up to par with what Joonhyung seemed to want.  The weight of shame settled heavily on Chanyeol’s shoulders as he trudged over to the large suitcase, and began rolling it towards the stairs.  At the foot of the staircase, he paused and swallowed hard.  “Sorry for disappointing you, dad.”

            Joonhyung glanced at him and raised a brow.  “Disappoint me?  I have to first expect better of you to actually be disappointed in you.  At this point, you’re doing exactly what I expect you to do.”

            Chanyeol had thought he long grown past feeling the barbs and pricks of his father’s words, but this was a new low for Park Joonhyung.  Chanyeol blinked in shock, jaw dropping softly.  “Dad,” he whispered dejectedly. 

            His father’s eyes flickered, and then he cleared his throat.  “Anyway, I trust you kept tomorrow evening free like I told you to.  Be ready by seven.  And try not to make your face look any worse than it already does until then.  Did you get a suit pressed?”

             Eunsae stepped forward hurriedly.  “I had one pressed yesterday, sir.”

            “Good.”  Joonhyung nodded once, and then strode past Chanyeol into the dining room. 

            Swallowing past the lead lump in his throat, Chanyeol asked weakly, “What do I need the suit for, dad?”

            His father paused, and Chanyeol saw his hand flex reflexively.  It was an uncharacteristic gesture from the normally confident and poised Park Joonhyung.  The older man cleared his throat once more, and made for the table again.  “You’ll find out tomorrow.  I’ll see you in the morning.”  He sat down and started on the dinner Eunsae had set out for Chanyeol.

            The familiar dismissal pricked at Chanyeol’s patience. “Why can’t you tell me now?”  He asked with a touch of heat. 

            “I said tomorrow.  Now go study.”  Joonhyung’s voice was firmer now, skirting the edge of anger.  Chanyeol took the hint reluctantly, and met Eunsae’s compassionate eyes with a weak smile before grabbing the suitcase again.

            As he dragged the bag up the stairs, he heard his father’s voice again, quieter this time.  “Did he get treated?”

            “Sir?”  Eunsae’s voice was a little louder.  Chanyeol froze on the stairs.           

            Joonhyung cleared his throat.  “Did he go to the hospital?  Make sure nothing was broken?” 

            “Ah, yes, his school nurse checked him over.  There was nothing serious, sir.”

            Silence followed, broken only by the clink of silverware and the thunder of Chanyeol’s racing heart. 

            And then, quietly, his father answered, “Good.”

            It wasn’t much, but it was the closest thing to concern that he’d heard from his father in a long time, and it felt damn good to know his father still cared.  Chanyeol had crept up the stairs feeling buoyant, and had slept better than he had in ages. 

             But if he had hoped that that little episode had somehow changed his father overnight, then Joonhyung’s aloof and cold attitude the next morning cleared up any misconceptions.  He’d ignored Chanyeol’s cheerful good morning, and eaten breakfast in his study, away from the kitchen.  When it came time for them to leave, the older Park had simply walked out the door without a single word, and Chanyeol’s mood plummeted. 

            School didn’t do much for him afterwards, especially considering that the first thing he’d seen on walking in the front doors was Chen, draping his Seongdeok Wolves swim jacket over Sena’s shoulders.  It was enough to make Chanyeol gag, but he couldn’t deny that the pretty blush and happy smile on Sena’s face made him want to tear Chen’s jacket off and replace it with his own.  The urge to check Chen with his shoulder as he passed was strong, but luckily Kyungsoo had popped up and wisely steered him away. 

            He’d ignored Sena’s quiet greeting in the morning, and ignored the curious glance she shot him after.  And then he ignored the way the morning sunlight gleamed in her hair, and the way she tilted her head while listening during class.  He ignored her voice when she answered a question, and ignored the quiet scratch of her pencil as she took notes.  He ignored the subtle scent of her perfume.  And he’d done his damn best to ignore the way her hand brushed his arm as she had passed him to go to lunch, but he couldn’t stop his hand from clenching hard as sparks raced down his arm.

            The only highlight of his day had been Suzy, who, feeling guilty that she had indirectly broken the news of Chen and Sena dating to him, had taken it upon herself to lift his spirits and gotten him a pair of tickets to the FC Seoul game in three weeks.  Kai and Baekhyun had spent the entire lunch period arguing over who would get Chanyeol’s other ticket, and Chanyeol had actually cracked a smile or two at their antics.

            The car jerked suddenly, and Chanyeol came back to the present.  They had arrived at the restaurant, a large, traditional Korean establishment with a somber exterior.  As Chanyeol stepped out of the car, a valet came and relieved them of the keys. 

            “Remember to greet your grandmother,” Joonhyung said quietly as they walked into the opulent restaurant.

            Chanyeol stayed mulishly silent, and his father didn’t say another word until they reached a large sliding door decorated with swirling murals.  From behind, the sounds of laughter and conversation filtered through.   The host reached for the door, but Joonhyung halted him with a raised hand.

            Chanyeol wasn’t exactly sure what the look on his father’s face was, but uncomfortable was the closest he could come to describe it.  The older man took a deep breath, fixing a steady stare towards him.  “I’m going to be sharing some important news at this dinner.  I’d appreciate it if I had your support for it.” 

            Chanyeol frowned.  “Well, it would help if I knew what you were going to tell them beforehand,” he hedged carefully. 

            Joonhyung looked as though he wanted to say something, but then paused, flicking his gaze to the door.  It was as though the sounds of their family inside gave him strength, for his shoulders straightened, and he turned back to Chanyeol.  “I’d rather just say it once,” he said decisively.

            Chanyeol wasn’t given the chance to say anything more, as his father gestured for the host to let them enter.  Chanyeol only had a few brief moments to puzzle over his father’s words, for as soon as the door opened, there was a loud, excited shout.

            “There’s my favorite nephew!”  A short, stocky man barreled his way through the small crowd in the room.  Chanyeol barely had time to steel his body before he was engulfed in a tight hug. 

            “Uncle, I’m your only nephew,” Chanyeol wheezed.  “And you’re squishing me.”  Nevertheless, he squeezed his uncle just as hard, a fierce grin splitting his mouth.  Park Sanghyun was Chanyeol’s favorite relative, and one of the most important people in the world to him.  The man was a staunch bachelor, but he was as close a father figure as Chanyeol had, even though he lived all the way in Busan. 

            “What the hell happened to you?” His uncle demanded with a frown.  He reached up to trace the bruise on Chanyeol’s cheek.

            “Sanghyun.”  Joonhyung’s voice, though quiet, cracked sharply between them.  “Leave it.”

            Sanghyun frowned darkly.  “Leave it?”  He looked like he wanted to say more, but he was interrupted by s shrill voice. 

            “Sanghyun!  Get off my grandson!” 

            Chanyeol’s grandmother glided through the small crowd of people coming up to welcome them.  She was a beautiful older woman, swathed in the elegance and grace that only age and experience could bring.  Chanyeol bowed respectfully, before stepping into her open arms.  The familiar crisp smell of lemons from his grandmother surrounded him, and he gave her a little extra squeeze before letting go.

            “My sweet boy, why are you always roughhousing?”  She patted his bruised cheek gingerly.  “Channel some of that energy into bringing a pretty girl home to meet me instead.”

            Chanyeol grinned, even though the remark stung a little.  “Grandma, none of the pretty girls seem to like me.”  He pouted cutely at her. 

            “Nonsense, as if any girl could resist my handsome grandson,” she replied with a cheeky grin, before turning her attention to his father. 

            Sanghyun tugged at Chanyeol’s arm.  “Let’s get you something to drink, hmm?”  His uncle winked boldly, a grin tugging at his mouth.

            “Sanghyun,” Joonhyung warned from their side, while his grandmother frowned gently.

            “Ah, Chanyeol’s a big boy, brother, stop worrying.  And don’t worry, either, mom, I’m here to take care of him.  One glass won’t kill him.”

            Joonhyung scoffed, shaking his head, before leading his mother away.

            Sanghyun watched his brother leave with a grimace.  “God, he’s so uptight.  If you haven’t been drunk off your at least three times already, Chanyeol, then I’m a monkey’s uncle.  And I’m pretty sure you’re no monkey.”

            Chanyeol couldn’t help his laugh.  “Uncle, you know it won’t be my first glass of wine.  You took care of that personally, remember?”

            His uncle thumped his back with a grin.  “That’s my boy.  Come on, we’ll go in the corner so we can talk.”

            “I should say hi to everyone first,” Chanyeol said, glancing around the room. There were a few faces in the room that were barely recognizable to him, people who he didn’t think he’d seen since his mother’s funeral. 

            Sanghyun waved his hands dismissively, pulling Chanyeol with him.  “They’ll survive if you come sneak away with me first for a while.”

            His uncle grabbed a bottle and two glasses and led the way to a side table in the corner of the room.  He poured a generous amount of red wine into both their glasses, and then waited for Chanyeol to take a sip.

            “Good vintage, right?”

            Chanyeol laughed.  “Honestly, uncle, I don’t usually drink wine when I’m out, so I’ll take your word for it.”

            Sanghyun chuckled, and then his expression sobered.  “So, you going to tell me what happened to that handsome face of yours?”

            He stiffened, and then rolled his shoulders a little.  “Got in a fight, uncle.  Nothing to worry about,” Chanyeol answered lightly, taking a fortifying sip of his wine.  He didn’t want to dredge up the mess from last week, not when he already had whatever his father was planning to deal with. 

            His uncle raised a brow.  “Nothing to worry about?”  He asked quietly

            “Yep,” Chanyeol replied, throwing in a small grin, which his uncle didn’t return.  Instead, Sanghyun was silent for a long time, staring into his wine glass.  Chanyeol’s grin faded as the silence stretched on, and he snuck a few awkward glances at his uncle, unsure of whether or not to speak.

            Finally, Sanghyun answered.  “You know, I don’t like a lot of things about my brother, but there is one thing I’m grateful to him for, and that’s that he has a son like you.”  He looked up at Chanyeol with an open expression that made the younger Park’s chest tighten.  “I may never have kids of my own, but I’m okay with that, because I have you.  So when you walk in here with your face like this – it does worry me.  Because I know it’s not the first time it’s happened, and it’s not going to be the last, either, is it?  That’s scary for me, Chanyeol.” 

          Chanyeol could hardly swallow past the lump that suddenly settled in his throat.  The reminder that he was important to someone was wonderful, but at the same time, he felt like such a burden, unable to meet his father’s expectations and now worrying his uncle with his rashness.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.  It was all he could think to say, the only words that could encompass the guilt currently weighing him down. 

          Sanghyun smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder.  “Don’t apologize.  I don’t want you to feel bad about anything.  But I do want to know if things are going okay, Chanyeol.  We don’t get to see each other as much as I’d like, but you know I’m only a phone call away.  And you also know I’d be here in a heartbeat if you ever needed me.”

           Chanyeol felt the prick of tears in his eyes.  It should have been embarrassing, but instead, he only felt relief and gratitude.  It was amazing what a few moments with his uncle could do for him, and he was reminded of just how much he missed the older man.  “Can’t I just move to Busan?”  He joked, though there was a wobbly undercurrent of truth in his voice.

           Sanghyun grinned.  “Busan’s not big enough for two Park men.  I’ve got to move up here.”

           Chanyeol narrowed his eyes.  “You’re just saying that because there’s prettier women in Seoul.”

           “Am I that obvious?”  His uncle winked impishly.

           Chanyeol chugged back his wine, before slamming his glass playfully on the table.  “Jeez, what kind of uncle are you?  Using your nephew as an excuse to score girls?” 

           “Hey, that’s the best kind of uncle!  I’ll make sure to find women who have –“

            Park Joonhyung’s loud voice interrupted them.  “Let’s sit down to dinner, shall we?”

            As one, the Park family started migrating to the tables in the center of the room, taking seats on the colorful floor cushions.  Sanghyun glanced over at them, and then patted Chanyeol on the arm.  “Let’s finish this after, okay?”  He nudged the half-empty bottle of wine.

           “Yeah, definitely,” Chanyeol said eagerly, following his uncle to the table.  He took a seat next to Sanghyun, a few spaces down from his father and grandmother at the head of the table.  As if on cue, the doors slid open, and a silent line of servers walked in, with steaming pots of soup and side dishes.  Polite chatter filled the room as the first course was served, and Chanyeol greeted a few of his family members sitting around him.  Though it was awkward talking to relatives he hadn’t seen in years, his uncle’s humor helped smooth the way, and soon a relaxed and comfortable atmosphere descended around the dinner table.

            As they settled into the meal, Joonhyung stood from his seat.  “Before we start, I wanted to make an announcement.”  The table quieted, and he cleared his throat.  “I want to thank you all for joining me on such short notice.  I understand it’s been a long time since we’ve all been able to come to together like this, as a family.  But I wanted to share this with everyone, because as you’ve been with me and my son through hard times, I would also hope that you will be there with us through good times as well, which is why I’ve asked you to be here tonight.”

            His father paused for a breath, and Chanyeol was surprised to see a small, undeniably happy smile touch Joonhyung’s mouth.  It was a rare sight, and Chanyeol couldn’t honestly remember the last time he’d seen his father smile like that.

            “I’ve met someone.”

            The simple sentence didn’t click for a few seconds in Chanyeol’s head, so he was left glancing around with a confused look.  Then his father’s words sunk in, and Chanyeol froze, staring unseeingly at the wall before him.   

            “Someone who I’ve come to love.”

             Woodenly, Chanyeol swung his gaze to his father, unable to believe what he was hearing.  His heart fibrillated wildly in his chest, and his nails curled into his palms, on a vague hope that the pain would jolt him out of whatever nightmare was about to unfold.

            “And we’re thinking about getting married.” 

            Silence followed his announcement.  Or maybe it was just silence in Chanyeol’s head, as everything inside shut down.  Dimly, he heard chatter surge up around him, but he could only hear one thing – the whispers of a memory from long ago.

            “Mom, is this you?”  He remembered walking up to her at the kitchen sink.  Remembered the quiet hiss of the water, and the flower-printed dress his mother was wearing.

            “What?  Oh, where did you find that?  I haven’t seen that picture in ages, Chanyeol.”  He remembered the startled surprise on her face, and then the smile that resembled his own so very much as she took the picture from his small hands.

            “What are you wearing?”  He remembered the picture too, though he hadn’t seen it in years.  It had been folded up and creased so many times that some of the details were lost, but the main focus was still visible.  His mother and father, curled up on an armchair together, with her beautiful white dress spilling over his legs. But more than that, he remembered the expressions of bliss on both their faces as they looked at each other in the photo.  And even at his young age, he was able to realize that his parents hadn’t looked at each other that way for a long time. 

            “It’s a wedding dress, Chanyeol.  This is from when your father and I got married.”  He remembered his mother trailing her fingers down the photo, her voice soft.  “This one was my favorite one.  It went missing from the album a few years ago.”  He remembered her looking at him with a curious look.  “Where did you find this?”

            “Dad’s jacket.  He forgot it when he left for the airport.”  Chanyeol remembered the shock in his mother’s eyes, and then the tears that slipped from her eyes.  He remembered the way she kneeled down and hugged him tight, the warm scent of her perfume washing over him. 

            “Oh Chanyeol, thank you.  You don’t know what this means to me.”  He remembered how happy she had looked in that moment.  He remembered that most of all, because it was the last time that he’d ever seen her look that happy. 

            Two years later, she was dead.  And that was where everything with his father had gone downhill.  No, it was where everything with his life had gone downhill. 

            “Oh Chanyeol, isn’t this wonderful?”  His grandmother, all smiles, gushed from across the table, fracturing his thoughts. 

            Chanyeol stared blankly at her, watching as her expression changed from happiness to confusion.  Good, he thought with a hint of heat.  Confused was what he was feeling too.  Confused, and frankly, pissed off.  Where the hell did his father get off thinking he could just get married again?  Without even asking, or even introducing the woman to his own son first?  What kind of father did that? 

            “Chanyeol?”  His father’s voice this time, a question and a warning all in one.

            A few hours ago, that tone would’ve made Chanyeol cringe.  But not now.  Everything was different now.  Chanyeol himself was different.  It was as if the memory of his mother had shattered the lid covering his true emotions, and now they were bubbling through him like magma, burning and charring through any restraint he’d once held towards his father.   Chanyeol heaved in a deep, shuddering breath, leveling a glare at the man at the head of the table.  “What would you like me to say, dad?” 

            Tension as taut as a tightrope zinged through the room, and conversations sputtered off down the table as everyone slowly focused their attention on father and son. 

            Chanyeol leaned back in his chair.  “I wasn’t aware that my opinion really mattered in this whole thing, since, you know, this is the first time I’m hearing about it.  But it’s fine.  I shouldn’t be disappointed, since this is exactly what I expect from you.”

Silverware clattered somewhere along the table, accompanied by his grandmother’s high gasp.  But Chanyeol’s attention was fixed with laser focus on Joonhyung’s frozen face.  It felt deliciously heady to throw his father’s words back at him, to watch him finally feel the weight of those words as Chanyeol himself had only last night. 

            He scoffed.  “What?  Not what you wanted to hear?  Oh, that’s right, you were expecting something closer to congratulations from me.  Is that what you want?  I’ve got something a little more meaningful than that, dad.”  Chanyeol narrowed his eyes.  “ you.”

            “Chanyeol!”  His father yelled, taking a threatening step closer.  But Chanyeol was too far gone now to be cowed.  He surged to his feet.

            “What?  Did you seriously expect me to be happy for you?  When you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me that you had met someone, let alone that you were considering marrying her?  And now I just have to sit here and accept that you’re going to bring this stranger into our house, and accept the fact that you’re replacing my mother?”

            No one dared to speak.  Not even his father, who was looking at him with an almost stricken expression.  It made no impact on Chanyeol, who picked up his wine glass and toasted it towards his father sardonically.

            “Congratulations, Park Joonhyung.  Try not to kill this wife too.”

            He flung the glass away, reveling in the tinkling sound of it shattering as he stormed out of the room, ignoring his uncle’s frantic call.  It took far too long to escape the suddenly oppressive heat of the restaurant, and Chanyeol was grateful for the slap of cold air against his face when he finally stepped outside.  He a harsh breath into his lungs, but the maelstrom inside him continued to surge.  Blindly, he swung around, raking his hands through his hair. 

            The door to the restaurant stared to creak open, and Chanyeol whirled around, seeing his uncle’s face. 

            No, Chanyeol thought.  Not now.

            He took off, with Sanghyun’s worried plea falling on deaf ears.

--------

            “Chanyeol!”

            Chanyeol jerked at the shout.  His vision refocused, and the dark material of his pants came into clarity again.  He blinked a few times, and then looked around with a disoriented frown.  He was sitting on a bench in the middle of a small square, with families and couples milling around him.  Bright strings of lights danced over his head in the gentle night breeze, and the faint sounds of a lively orchestra played in the distance. 

            He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten there, or even where he was at the moment.  He’d stormed away from the restaurant in a blind haze of anger, not caring where his feet were taking him.  All he’d been able to think about was his mother.  He had frantically replayed the memories he had of her, the tumble of thoughts his only way of reaching out to her.  He’d never missed her more than he did in this moment, and the raw edge of grief, one that he thought he’d long passed over, scraped at him again. 

            “Hey, Chanyeol?”

            That voice again.  Chanyeol looked up with a frown, wanting to shout at whoever was interrupting him.  But his voice choked at the sight of Sena standing a few feet away, staring at him bemusedly.  She was bundled up in a scarf and coat, with a shopping bag hanging from her hand. 

             “I’ve been calling you for the past three minutes,” she said, furrowing her brow.  She crossed her arms, rustling her bag. 

             For once, he didn’t feel the usual flutter at seeing Sena.  Instead, his mood only soured further.  It just figured that this day could only get worse.  First his father, and now the girl he couldn’t have.  The girl who’d chosen the boy whose father had ruined Chanyeol’s life. 

              The nice thing to do would be to answer her.  But he didn’t want to be nice, or pretend that things were normal between them.  He didn’t have the energy for it, or for dealing with Sena and all his annoying feelings.  He just wanted to be empty, to curl up and sleep forever, and forget everything in the process.  So he let the silence drag on, staring at her wordlessly. 

            She shifted under his scrutiny.  “What are you doing out here without a coat?”  Sena sounded cautious now, as if she was picking up on the fact that he wasn’t himself at the moment. 

            Truthfully, he hadn’t really felt the cold.  Now that she was mentioning it, he realized that his fingers were icy, and goosebumps skittered up his arms.  He shivered a little, which Sena immediately noticed.

            “Do you want my scarf?”  Her hands darted up to the thick grey wool around her neck, tugging it free.  She stepped forward to hand it to him, but Chanyeol leaned back into the bench.  He didn’t want her scarf or her company, and he wished that she would take the hint.

            Naturally, she didn’t.  “Are you okay?”  Concern flickered in her eyes.  It made him want to laugh.  If she wasn’t Chen’s girlfriend right now, he might’ve believed that she meant it.  

            But she was Chen’s girlfriend.  And she knew what Chen’s father had done.  Yet, she still had the nerve to stand in front of him and pretend to care. 

            “Can you just go?”  The words came out crueler and colder than he’d wanted them to, but he couldn’t care enough to smooth them over.  And a piece of him hated that he felt guilty at all about it.  She has Chen to kiss her hurt feelings all better now.  The angry part of him, dampened but still smoldering, whispered the words into his mind, easing the sliver of guilt. 

            She recoiled, her eyes widening in shock.  “Oh.  Okay,” she mumbled, taking a few shuffling steps backwards.  The stunned look on her face had his deeply buried conscience wincing, but he smothered it ruthlessly, refusing to show even an ounce of regret.  After a few seconds, Sena blinked, and looked away.  She balled up the scarf in her hands and turned around.  Chanyeol watched from hooded eyes as she started walking away, and then shifted his gaze with a sigh.  He let his head fall back, feeling the chill air prick at his face.  It was painful, but strangely soothing.  Focusing on the sensation eased the incessant drumming on his mind, and for a few seconds, he actually felt a modicum of peace.

            The shuffle of shoes against cobblestones brought his head up again, just in time to see Sena at his side.  She dropped the scarf on the bench next to him, and then faced him with a carefully neutral look.

            “You don’t have to use it, but I’m just going to leave it here in case,” she said, and he could hear the thread of anger in her words. 

             The simmering rage in him flared white-hot again.  What right did she have to be angry with him right now?  She was always taking the victim’s side against him, making everything he did seem like some sort of crime.  What, he was supposed to feel grateful that Miss Holier-than-thou was shoving her damn scarf at him, that she was even deigning to pay attention to him?  Well, he didn’t need her attention, or any of her fake pity. 

            With a growl, he grabbed the scarf and surged to his feet.  “Save the nice girl for your boyfriend,” he snapped, chucking it at her feet.  “And get the out of my face.”

            The vitriol in his voice was finally enough to scare her off.   tightened, and he knew she was biting back words, but instead she whirled around and walked away without a backward glance. 

            Chanyeol cursed under his breath, and then flung himself back onto the bench.  He glared at the scarf she’d left behind, and then shoved his hands into his pockets, letting his head fall back again and wishing he’d thought to bring the bottle of wine with him.

            He wanted to get drunk.  Get drunk and forget this night had ever existed.

-----

            “Hey.”

            Chanyeol’s eyes flickered open at the familiar voice, and he swung his head forward, wincing at the kink in his neck. 

Baekhyun was striding towards him, holding a coat in one arm.  His best friend was bundled up in a coat and a fuzzy hat.  He glanced at the scarf on the ground, and then carefully walked around it before facing Chanyeol.

            “You look like ,” he announced baldly.

            Chanyeol scoffed.  Trust his best friend not to spare his feelings at all.  Baekhyun took a seat next to him, peering at him curiously.  

            “What are you doing here?” Chanyeol asked tiredly.  He didn’t know how long it had been since Sena had left, but it was long enough for the irritation and anger to leech out of him, leaving him feeling exhausted.  He’d had the time to realize he’d been a little irrational with Sena, that he’d displaced some of the emotion from his father’s announcement onto her.  Only some, because he knew a good chunk of the frustration he’d unleashed on her was purely from their own weird situation.  He was still a little frustrated, but now he was embarrassed as well. 

            Baekhyun raised a brow.  “Well, funny story.  I actually got a call from someone about twenty minutes ago asking me to come pick you up from here.  Three guesses on who it was, and the last two don’t count.”

            “Jesus,” Chanyeol droned.  Though he didn’t laugh at his own joke, it helped lighten his spirits a little. 

            “Wow, you’re hilarious.  Really,” Baekhyun deadpanned.  “But, seriously though, you want to explain why Yoon Sena thought I needed to come get you?”

            His response came out more defensive than he liked.  “How would I know?”  A flash of Sena’s face appeared in his mind, but he shook it away.

            Baekhyun raised his brows, but let the terse reply slide.  He toed at Sena’s scarf on the ground.  “Is this yours?”

            Chanyeol glanced at it from the corner of his eye.  The puddle of fabric looked sadly pathetic on the dirty ground, and made him feel guiltier.  He shifted uncomfortably on the bench.

            “Hey, what’s wrong?”  Baekhyun probed, edging closer.  His voice was more gentle now, which meant that Baekhyun was genuinely worried.  It also meant that Chanyeol would have to confide in him about what had happened this night – which he didn’t think he could do just yet. 

            “No,” Chanyeol murmured.  Baekhyun paused, his mouth parted as if to ask again, but Chanyeol interrupted quickly.  “Sorry.  It’s just – I don’t want to talk about it right now.  I’ll tell you soon, just not now.”

            His best friend leaned back with a small smile.  “Hey, don’t sweat it.  Whenever and if you’re ready.”  It was one of the best things about Baekhyun.  He could be the most annoying little on the planet, but when things were serious, he seemed to always know the right things to say.  Chanyeol could already feel himself relaxing, releasing some of the tension he’d been holding all night. 

            Chanyeol cleared his throat carefully.  “Can I sleep over at your place tonight?”

            Baekhyun grinned wider now.  “Already told my mom to put out the spare bed.  You want to go now or wait a bit?”

            Chanyeol returned the smile weakly.  “Let’s go,” he said, rising to his feet.  Baekhyun jumped up and draped the coat he’d brought over Chanyeol’s shoulders.  Then he swooped down and picked up Sena’s scarf.

            “Dude, when did you get such a girly scarf?”  With a snort, he dusted it off and tossed the scarf around Chanyeol’s neck, and then took off.

            Chanyeol paused for a moment as the scent of Sena’s perfume wafted around him.  Sweet with just a hint of spice.  He took a deep breath, feeling the brush of the soft wool against the bare skin of his neck.   Despite its flimsy look, the scarf was surprisingly warm.  His hand drifted up to run over it, and the tiny fibers caught in the calluses of his palm. 

            “Chanyeol!”

             Baekhyun’s shout drew his attention.  His friend waited a few dozen feet ahead with an expectant look.  Chanyeol glanced down once more at the scarf, and then wrapped it tighter around his neck before running to catch up.

----

            “Baekhyun.  Are you sleeping?”

            It had to be at least one or two in the morning.  Chanyeol couldn’t be completely sure, as he’d turned off his phone some time earlier to avoid any calls from his dad. And Baekhyun’s bedroom was currently pitch black, obscuring the clock on the wall.

            Baekhyun answered a second later from his bed.  “No, what’s up?”

            “My dad wants to get married again.”  It felt weird to say the words, as though he was talking about someone else’s family instead of his own.  The anger and rage from before was gone, leaving him feeling only exhausted and slightly empty, as if a piece of him had been carved out. 

            There was a sudden screech and a mad rustle of fabric from Baekhyun’s bed as the shorter boy thrashed his way out of his blankets.  The nightstand lamp flickered on, and Chanyeol squinted in the sudden bright light.

            “What?”  Baekhyun’s voice was pitched high with shock.  He peeked over the edge of the bed down at Chanyeol.

            “He met some woman, and he wants to marry her.”  Chanyeol rubbed the edge of his blanket, focusing on the smooth fabric sliding along his thumb.

             “Do you know who it is?  Did you meet her?” Baekhyun’s voice was full of restrained hesitance, as though he wanted to ask a thousand more questions. 

            Chanyeol sighed.  “No.  He just kind of dropped it on everyone at dinner tonight.  Said he wanted to bring her to meet us.  But I lost my a little too soon to get her name or anything.”

            Baekhyun sighed.  “I want to ask how you feel about it, but I know you well enough to guess already.”  He paused, and then ventured, “Is it something you want to talk about right now?”

            Chanyeol shrugged.  “Don’t really know what to say.  I think I’m still kind of processing it.  Rationally now, without being pissed about it.”

            “You’re allowed to be angry, you know.  Don’t let him make you feel guilty or anything about showing it.”  Baekhyun’s tone was firmer now.  He was no fan of Chanyeol’s father, and didn’t bother to hide his opinion of the man.

            “I know,” he answered with a sigh.  “It just gets tiring, being angry and pissed.  Like it all the energy out of you.”

            His words hung in the air, heavy with years of pent up emotion and frustration.  He knew Baekhyun understood, because it was a sentiment Chanyeol had repeated numerous times before to his friend.  But it didn’t make the reality of dealing with his situation any easier. 

            “I have an idea,” Baekhyun said suddenly.

            “What?”

            Baekhyun’s eyes were glinting with determination.  “You need a distraction.”  He sat up in the bed and slapped his hand on his thigh.  “We need to play some Mario Kart.”

            Chanyeol shifted, his mind protesting immediately.  “Now?  I don’t want to play right now.”

            “Yes, you do.”  Baekhyun clambered out of bed, making a beeline for his TV.

            “Baekhyun, I’d rather just sleep,” Chanyeol groused.

            The other boy turned to him with a baleful look.  “Dude.  Get out of bed or I’m calling Suho and telling him.  And then he’s going to make you sit and get all mushy with your feelings.  He’ll probably even hug you or some nasty like that.” 

            Chanyeol flipped him the bird.  “Seriously, man, I don’t feel like it.”

            “Or I’ll just call Kyungsoo.”  Baekhyun’s voice was positively gleeful now.

            Chanyeol groaned, but he still threw the covers off himself.  “.  Fine.  I hate you.”  He rolled up to his feet and trudged over to Baekhyun’s couch, where his friend was already setting up the gaming system.  And minutes later, the two of them were mashing their way through the courses, with yells and jabs filling the room.  Like a wonder drug, the familiar ritual of kicking Baekhyun’s with his trusty Yoshi buried the complicated tangle of his father’s new revelation, and Chanyeol threw himself wholeheartedly into the game. 

            An hour later, they had put aside the game and Baekhyun had put on a rerun of a Bundesliga match.  A comfortable silence, born of years of friendship, had settled between them, giving Chanyeol the opportunity to mull over the events of the night.  Or, more accurately, to mull over a specific event that was just now striking him.

            “I didn’t know Sena had your number,” Chanyeol said, glancing over at his friend.

            Baekhyun shifted his feet on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen.  “She didn’t.  She said she called Sunhwa, who asked Jo Youngmin for it.”

            The sudden rising roar of the televised crowd drew Chanyeol’s attention back to the TV, but the goalkeeper deflected the attempt on goal.  Both Baekhyun and Chanyeol groaned, slumping back into the couch.  “What else did she say?” Chanyeol continued.

            Baekhyun flicked a look over at him with a sly grin.  “Nothing much, just that you’re disgustingly hot and that she desperately wanted to jump your bones.”  The shorter boy waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

            Chanyeol snorted.  “I wish,” he retorted wryly.  Just as he was also beginning to wish he hadn’t sent her away so quickly.  He wondered what it would feel like to have her hug him, to have her fuss over him because she was worried about him.

             No, Chen gets all that now, he reminded himself firmly.  Not that it made him wonder any less. 

            “She’s an idiot, you know.  Picking a shrimp like Chenchen over a beastly mastodon like you.  Totally her loss.”  Baekhyun shook his head with a tsk. 

            Chanyeol raised his brows.  “Did you just call me a mastodon?”  He asked disbelievingly. 

            Baekhyun turned to him with a fierce gaze.  “Yeah, dude.  They’re ing manly.”  He thumped his chest hard with a clenched fist, grunting at the impact.

            Chanyeol blinked.  “You pretty much just called me an elephant.”

            Baekhyun’s bravado deflated instantly.  “Oh.  Is that a mastodon is?  I thought it was like a dinosaur or something.”

            Despite the insult, Chanyeol laughed, feeling suddenly lighter.  “Are you sure you passed the third grade?”

His best friend shrugged.  “I might’ve bribed the teacher.  Whatever.  An elephant is still manlier than a shrimp.”

            Chanyeol nodded.  “I actually can’t argue with you on that one.”

            “That’s right.  Chanyeol the manly mastodon.”  Baekhyun beamed proudly.   Just then, the TV exploded with sound as their team scored the first goal.  Their attention was quickly back into the game, and Chanyeol let the conversation go.  It was only as they crawled back into their own beds that Baekhyun brought it up again. 

            “Hey, but really though.  She was worried about you.”

            Chanyeol mulled over the words as Baekhyun shut off the light.  As his friend’s light snores filled the room, he reached for the pile of his clothes he’d left at the foot of the bed and pulled the wool scarf towards him.  He tugged the pillow out from beneath his head and replaced it with the scarf.  It was probably his ridiculous imagination, but it actually felt more comfortable than the pillow. 

            He smiled to himself, and then let the scent of sweet spice send him to sleep.