Leeteuk greeted Chanyeol with a forced smile—that familiar smile worn by almost people who come to request a mortician for their unfortunate event of death. At the beginning, Leeteuk did not acknowledge Chanyeol as the typical, experienced, stereotypical mortician. Chanyeol looked completely out of place for a person whose job is to send people to either hell or heaven. His long, dark hair hung down below his shoulders by a tiny bit. He spoke quickly in contrast to people of his profession. His condolences seemed deep and sincere whilst other morticians tried so hard to fake it, yet didn’t earn it.

“Are we going to be coming with you right now, to the cemetery, Chanyeol-ssi? Or is it the House of Prep route is what we’re taking first?” he saw Chanyeol bob his head continuously to both options before he continued, “Is it really over now? You’re going to put my parents under the ground and cover them with dirt?” the mourning man said, an obvious choke catching in his seemingly composed voice. 

Chanyeol didn’t know how to say it, but saying, “I’m sorry, Leeteuk-ssi, but the dead cannot technically move on their own—they need people like me to do that for them” seemed like the most legit answer, so he said exactly that. It was true though, the dead couldn’t sit and wash up on their own, and they can’t even possibly twitch or make any noise of any sort. They just die. They go limp—lifeless is the right word. Many people found that incredibly hard to understand. Chanyeol didn’t, therefore he wished other will eventually get it as well, for it was a simple knowledge, though it seemed highly incomprehensible.

People thought it never made any sense for a person whom had just been producing sounds and motions, moments before their death, to just freeze like that and never come back. Gone with the wind. Someone might argue the issue of death is tricky, and that maybe the dead person isn’t exactly dead, but only become unmoving as a consequence to some exotic, hard to distinguish illness. But that is not true because a person truly dies. Their brain just stops sending waves to their bodies, as well as their heart; it stops giving blood, but it’s nevertheless true; they die. It’s like an urban legend stuff Chanyeol believes in, which we all too should, by the way; he’s a mortician, so he knows best, and trusting him on that would probably a wise thing to do. 

He frowned as he watched the man before him squeeze out droplets of tears. This part would get him every time, and then his mind would whine up thinking about his late father, and how it had hurt to see such a strong man go lifeless before Chanyeol’s eyes, leaving this job for him to carry as if it was his legacy. Chanyeol would never forget that his father’s corpse was the first corpse he’d ever buried. He had ended up pulling his own daddy onto a gurney. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but actually the hardest. 

Leeteuk caught the graveman straying away in dark thoughts, so he cleared his throat purposely to lure Chanyeol’s attention back to him and get this conversation over with already. He hated mortuaries—Chanyeol didn’t so he saw no rush. Leeteuk started speaking of the dead again, with an even, calm tone. “My mom saw one sit up before, you know. A dead person.” he said, just trying to prove a point to himself, Chanyeol guessed with a sad smirk. He’s been there, took the same guess, and it didn’t work.

“It just made a weird noise and then sat up. My mom never lies—never lied, I mean.” He started looking around awkwardly, to cover up how torn he was about this whole, past tense thing. Chanyeol nodded his head as if he believed the older man, when actually all he thought of was pity for this man. It was obvious Leeteuk wanted some hope to believe that maybe this was all a lie, hope that maybe his parents would wake up from this nap— that hope that Chanyeol wasn’t willing to give anyway, and made sure not to lead him on; he’d tell him that the nap would last a lot longer than he’d expect—it’d last as long as forever. But he smiled instead.

Chanyeol cleared his throat and then started, “I’ve been doing this job for twelve years now. I’m twenty-five by the way, so I’ve been doing it since I was thirteen. I think I would know if someone was still alive or rather not. And almost every time, they seem to be lifeless. Though I do give credit, sometimes the dead would produce guttural sounds, any easily spooked person would mistake it for groaning or talking sound, though if you listened carefully, you could definitely tell it’s only something abdominal.” Chanyeol watched the piece of information dawn on the man before him, swallowing him whole.

If Chanyeol was being completely honest, it wasn’t until years later till he saw the dead actually lie still ... before that, it was even worse than sitting up—sometimes Chanyeol heard them hum to songs in his head, and when he tried to hold his breath and listen with all his senses, they too would huff and frown before as if they were annoyed he’d cut their fun. This job frightened the hell out of him. It always reminded him that he had definitely seen better days.

He did tons of burials in his years of undertaking, he’d seen and touched thousands of dead bodies. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to do. The worst job in the world; the tiest… the ugliest, you name it. He couldn’t possibly think of a job that is worse than his. He wouldn’t have taken it if he wasn’t forced to. If he could turn the hands of time back to the day his father had died… he would’ve been more careful, he would’ve looked where he was going before he’d pumped with his bike into the working man before him that was his father, maybe then, his father wouldn’t have fallen down into that whole with the shovel digging into his skull instead of the dirt. He had died right on the spot. Chanyeol was to blame. He would never forget this day. It was obvious he didn’t hence his current job. The job he agreed to take as a penalty for his fouled doings. A far lessened punishment than being locked away with criminal anyway—it was Chanyeol’s second chance, and he took it and stood by it, regardless of how he felt towards his area of expertise.

It was the punishment to what he’s done. Hearing the dead speak was only the easiest part of it anyways, but his guest did not need to know that anyway. Even though he should’ve been behind bars, Chanyeol was out and digging. Literally, digging. He’d dug so many times in hopes of getting the debt he owed his father paid off. But will it ever? Will he ever stop digging deep? Guess not.

He never knew when he will quit. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to quit being a mortician. No one else was going to take this job voluntarily, his father told him so, and he too knew it was true. And because of that—because there wasn’t many people in this world planning to take this as a profession for living, Chanyeol did it. He would’ve loved to be a doctor. Sadly, he couldn’t. He always told himself, ‘doctors were never once murders before they’d worn that robe’. One thing he was sure of, he’d had his hands blooded before that and he was not ready to have them commit that sin again, even unintentionally when in that bleached robe.

Accidents happen. He just had to learn how to avoid them, or basically ... clean them the hell up, like he has learned to do. 

He looked up at Leeteuk and said, “C’mon, follow me, I’m gonna need a hand, cleaning the three corpses up. You’re the son, so I imagine you are the most suitable person to be asked for help. I don’t clean up the ladies well. So pardon me, you’ll have to attend to your mother while I get your father and grandfather cleaned.” 

Leeteuk tilted his head and blinked. He wasn’t sure if he had just heard things right, but the graveman before his eyes was already turning to leave. Leeteuk yelled behind him to wait, and Chanyeol laughed quietly, waiting for Leeteuk to fall into his steps. “Cheer up, Leeteuk-ssi. Think of it as a farewell trip. At least you get to apologize for whatever the heck you did wrong when they were alive. I know it had helped lessen my pain a little and I hope it does yours as well.”

Leeteuk said nothing as he felt his stomach turn from the idea of touching his 24-hours old dead parents, and grandfather. He gave off a troubled sigh and the grabbed Chanyeol by the shoulder, bringing both of them to a stop. Chanyeol turned his body and looked into the shorter man’s eyes. With the tiniest voice Leeteuk had ever emitted, he found his voice to ask, “Can I not ride in your truck? It smells like the dead. Just... lead the way; I’ll be in the car behind you.”

Chanyeol smiled, “sure thing, Leeteuk-ssi. I’ll see you at the prep-home then.”

“Okay. Talk to you when we get there.” 

After that the mourning man rushed out of the funeral home, with one hand covering his mouth as if he was seeking a toilet to puke. Chanyeol fought the urge to laugh at the scene. He’d done it so many times, that it no longer turned his stomach. It was funny to him how someone would have a weak stomach from just a thought of touching their parents. Dead or alive, they were still his parents. It wasn’t like they were going to turn into man-eating zombies the moment their boy would lay a hand on them, so he didn’t get why the hell it bothered Leeteuk, let alone disgust him.

It wasn’t until Chanyeol made it out to the front yard, did he see Leeteuk bent over the fence, his tie loosened from around his neck, and his white-knuckled grip had a secure, tight clutch on the fence, the sounds of chocked, puking noises was the only thing heard within earshot distance. He was really making a scene, but Chanyeol wished not to interfere with Mother Nature. He just walked pass Leeteuk and started his truck.

In a matter of five minutes, the truck was ready to hit the road. In the review mirror, Chanyeol watched as the weak-stomached gentleman walked to his car and slammed its door shut behind him. He was breathing hard, and Chanyeol worried he might’ve been having an asthma attack.

After about another five minutes, and when Chanyeol was sure Leeteuk could breathe again and drive, he finally hit the road with ease, as to just be careful not to shake the three corpses in the back of his truck too much. He didn’t know what they had eaten last, and he didn’t wish to find out when he gets to the prep-house. Yes! His job was that disgusting; he hated it to bits, but there was absolutely nothing he can do about it.

~~                                                                                                                                                                                                                      ~~

Three weeks after their initial meeting at the rather unpleasant place of the dead. Chanyeol and Leeteuk developed natural fondness of each other. Their relationship was in the pre-existing phase, when the grieving man decided they should take their friendship to another level. Chanyeol was puzzled, but it is indeed the first time he’d ever had anyone ask him out while they are perfectly aware that he is a mortician. Chanyeol was entirely thrilled, yet somehow deeply frightened of what’s to come. And while he really wanted to reject the offer, not only did he find himself saying ‘yes’, but also suddenly found himself dressing up for a date. He hoped that his expensive black tuxedo, didn’t remind Leeteuk of his parents funeral all that much.

But they do. They did every time Leeteuk pulled his gaze off the floor, he’d find his date dressed in this awful wear of black, the shine casted on its fabrics giving him the chills of that undesired night at the funeral where he had stayed in late with Chanyeol, washing and powdering the hideous bodies of the deceased; Chanyeol who was wearing something incredibly similar to what he was wearing in the ballroom party that night. Leeteuk inhaled a thick breeze of air through his nose and held it in a little in attempt to calm himself down. Chanyeol has nothing to do with my anxiety, he kept convincing himself. Black is a color for all kinds of events, and is indeed classical.

But none of the words racing through his mind worked to convince him to keep from shoving Chanyeol away in the middle of a slow dance. The taller man stared in horror, completely terrified as to what went wrong. Had he stepped on Leeteuk’s foot as they danced? He looked down at the other’s feet and there was not a scuff on Leeteuk’s black dress shoes.

“Leeteuk, are you alright?”

Leeteuk only snapped out of his trance when he felt a hand patting his shoulder from behind. It was one of the guests, or host of the party, he wasn’t sure, but she seemed worried about him, and he noticed that her eyes weren’t exactly fixed on him but on Chanyeol. He quickly came to realize what had just happened. “Uh,” he tried to find his voice to speak to her, “everything is fine. I’m fine, it’s just… I’m a little claustrophobic.” The woman gave him an unsure look and then ceased her eyes of the man she’d thought him to be a ert, and then smiled at Leeteuk. He returned her a toothy grin, showing the dimple pierced right below the left side of the corner of his lips.

He turned to Chanyeol and apologized, going as far as giving him a respectful bow despite being older. Chanyeol smiled at him and closed the distance again, but this time to Leeteuk out, so that the man could have some refreshing air and is not as claustrophobic. Chanyeol said something about fresh air and claustrophobia. Leeteuk pretended to listen as they zigzagged their way to the terrace.

Leeteuk’s shoulders slumped once he reached the fence of solace. He breathed in, a ragged sound in silence. He could feel the eyes of Chanyeol tracing over the curve of his neck, and slithering down further.

“I hope you don’t hate me so. It was just a reflexive reaction because I’ve been feeling confined all day. Also our height difference had surely added to it, sorry.” Leeteuk turned around to face the taller man with a smile; the breeze of the night had help ease his anxiety much.      

His smile is what had got Chanyeol every time. It was his charming that had made the mortician leave his coffin. So Chanyeol smiled back, feeling the shiver run down his spine and he teetered back one step, lifting a hand up to rub away the shivers off his clothed arm. Leeteuk eyed his hand intently, recalling the memory of its nails being dirt-filled. “No need to apologize, Leeteuk,” Chanyeol said, snapping him out of his trance once again. He offered a weak smile he knew Chanyeol didn’t buy, and the other immediately suggested that they’d leave this place and seek another.

Leeteuk didn’t object, neither did he take the hand offered by his date. “Oh, it’s so cold,” he said instead, wrapping both of his arms around his body as he took the lead, leaving a dumbfounded man to stare at his shadow as he disappeared, submerging through the crowd. Chanyeol had a bad feeling about the rest of it all—the night, and certainly, the relationship whole.

~~                                                                                                                                                                                                                      ~~

They’re back in Leeteuk’s hotel room, the place he preferred to be at instead of the family’s now soul-haunted place. He never wanted to go back to the place where his dad has committed the homicide of his parent, wife and finally his own suicide. It was tragic, and everything there brought bad memories. He was starting to reconsider Chanyeol suggestion about selling the house. He wasn’t going to be able to live in it anymore anyway, and that’s why he was in this very hotel room right then.

“Your bed is so comfy,” Chanyeol said from across the room, bouncing happily on the bed. Leeteuk didn’t answer, instead he started stripping and it was Chanyeol’s time to fall quiet. With his best, composed expression, Leeteuk suggested for Chanyeol to do the same. “Take off your clothes. Get comfortable. Loosen that tie. I don’t want to see you wearing black anymore.”

And Chanyeol did exactly that. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to get lucky tonight, but at the same time, it felt as if he was being forced, though how exactly, he could not put his hands on it still, but he knew it didn’t come sincerely from the heart—neither man’s heart, to be precise.

By the time Leeteuk was back to his bed, Chanyeol’s clothes were crumpled on the floor by the bed, his nudeness hiding under the thin, white sheets of the bed. Leeteuk soon joined him under the sheets, and moments later they were engaged in a long, tongue-and-teeth-filled kiss. Chanyeol was shy, but Leeteuk was blunt, and rather aggressive; he had brought tears to Chanyeol’s eyes by just kissing him, for he was tugging way too harshly on Chanyeol’s hair. Even though in pain, Chanyeol didn’t have the audacity to tell Leeteuk to be gentler with him. He’s afraid that if he did, Leeteuk would just apologize and cease the act altogether. Instead, he whimpered into the kiss, in hopes that Leeteuk would answer his desperate calls with mercy!

And he does.

The burn on his scalp is left to cool down as Leeteuk freed Chanyeol’s hair of his knuckles. Their cheeks pressed together when the kiss was broken, and without relenting to look Chanyeol in the eye, Leeteuk just pushed his head down and whispered, “You know what to do.”    

And he did.

In a moment of hesitation, Chanyeol thought if this is what he wants. To be treated that way in a relationship? Leeteuk has proven to be rough and inconsiderate, even if they have only gone as far as a kiss. He pressed back against the hand pushing on his head, and ceased.

“What? You don’t want me?” Leeteuk looked at him with disgust and somewhat disbelief.

But it wasn’t really his choice anymore.

“I said, .” The loud shriek of Leeteuk, cut through the rumble of the air conditioner. Feeling his ears go deaf, Chanyeol missed on the part where his wrists got cuffed together and the key to the cuffs got tossed away from the bed, colliding somewhere with the wall and falling to the floor with a clink. That’s when he realized that he was going to be the grieving man’s own personal stress reliever.

~~                                                                                                                                                                                                                      ~~

He felt like he was utterly under water. Everything around him was either wet, or wetting him with disgusting fluids. His cheeks were wet, his chin, and around his mouth too, and his eyes were teary and shut. His horrible experience with wetness never actually ended until he has lapped up all the beads of seeds the other man had shot.

It was disgusting. A tang mixed with sour bile. Chanyeol hated him for doing this. He’d actually been stupid he’d thought they could actually be something, but he should’ve taken the signs—the signs he had refused to see, thinking that he was blinded by love. That’s when he started to cry, adding more moist to the wetness on his face.

Leeteuk caressed tenderly at Chanyeol’s bouncy curls, staring at the mess he has created with sorry eyes. Slender fingers curling under Chanyeol’s jaw, slowly lifting his head up so that their gazes met. Leeteuk stared at the mosaic lens of Chanyeol’s eyes. He didn’t even know why Chanyeol was crying. It was obvious that his intends weren’t all that sainted when he decided to come up here with him, and so Leeteuk saw that a childish manner. “You wanted it, so why the remorse in your eyes?” he asked in his velvet, -rasped voice.

“ing bastard, you forced me,” Chanyeol yelled and tossed away from Leeteuk’s touch. First impulse is to search around the room for that darn, lost key. He found it by the curtains and hurriedly went to fetch to he could set himself free.

His grasp on the key was shaky, and it had put Chanyeol under ten miles of pressure. “Ahrrk!” He tossed the key in aggression. He wasn’t able to do it on his own, with shaky hands and a blurry vision.

“Let me get that,” Leeteuk got up to get the key from where it had landed, by the nightstand.

“ you,” Chanyeol barked, hating the renewed taste of in his mouth each time he talked.

He jerked away the when Leeteuk’s hand gripped his bruised wrists. “Relax, I’m just going to unlock the cuffs.” And Chanyeol wished he would because, really, he’d love to have the pleasure of squaring Leeteuk across the jaw with one of his teeth-knocking punches.

Leeteuk lifted Chanyeol’s wrist high, but didn’t close his hand in to unlock the cuffs. Instead, he ducked his head down and had slipped in between Chanyeol’s restricted arms and hugged him. Chanyeol did not know what to do, but certainly he didn’t freeze. “ off you freak.”

“Yes, I’m the freak, not you. All this time, I had thought you a freak for just merely liking me—a man like yourself, a mortician. I was disgusted with you, but now I’m even more repulsed with myself,” he buried his face and Chanyeol’s chest and cried that he was sorry, and that he knows how unstable he had just sounded. “I’ve never been like this. Chanyeol you have to believe me!” He cried even more, and very soon his short-breathed cries had turned into long-breathed sobs. Leeteuk was completely breaking down and Chanyeol didn’t know what to do.

“It hurts so badly.” Leeteuk was beating up his chest, and Chanyeol couldn’t have been more amused.

When the worst of the storm passed away, Chanyeol soft voice shook Leeteuk out of his state of daze. “Uncuff me,” he asked so softly, and Leeteuk had to obey his hurt lover. He uncuffed him and waited for the punch to come, but Chanyeol just stared at him with a look that’s wounded. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t been me all day; your dress, all this stress, and…” but he figured that nothing he would say would pay off as a good excuse, and that anything he’ll further say will only backfire on him, eventually.

Chanyeol watched as the man before him broke into pieces. He just watched waves of shudders and trembles take over Leeteuk’s body in jolts and jolts of electricity. He wasn’t sure, until Leeteuk has dropped to the floor, that the man was suffering a seizure attack.

Fear, pain and sympathy are what drove Chanyeol towards the door. He yanked it open and screamed, “fire!” because, people no longer came if you just screamed for help. He yelled the word three times in every direction, before running back to the room, and shucking a bathrobe on. He went to Leeteuk’s side and used the belt of his robe to press down Leeteuk’s tongue from the violent clashing of his teeth. He’d seen them do this once in one of these detective movies, but nothing he seemed to do was proving good.

The violent shocks continued on for five minutes. People arrived at their shared room but all seemed as clueless as Chanyeol. One of the neighbors called an ambulance, and all they could do is wait...

And the wait was long.

And eventually, Chanyeol had to carry the lifeless body down to his truck of bad luck.

Tonight they were going to continue the rest of their night at the prep house. Chanyeol could no longer smile at the irony. It was indeed sad. Everything about his life was sad, even the only lovestory he’s ever had. And even that, didn’t survive his depressing bad luck—he was a goddamn raven; Chanyeol was convinced. Father of all bad luck for he is indeed a mortician.  

With a final troubled sigh Chanyeol wondered as he washed the body of his beloved if he was going to be in debt to his father forever…

[A/N]; Anything you wish to say, just leave it in a comment. Upvotes? well that's up to you. I want to know how do you feel about this story whole. And? did you like the group-crossed pair?