Chanyeol managed very well. No more was said of the incident during the excellent lunch he ordered for them. But the easy mood of their downtown adventure had been shattered. The shadows of that unhappy moment and Chanyeol's reaction to it remained uppermost in Baekhyun's mind though he tried to make light converstaion.

When they fnished they went out into the storm and Chanyeol insisted they stop by one of his favorite bookshops to pick up a new art book he wanted to add to his library. It was a work on modern sculptors. After they had found this, they went out into the driving snow once more to try to hail a taxi.

On this gray mid-afternoon it seemed that every taxi in the city was either engaged or off-duty. After they had stood by the curb until they were both mantled with snow and miserable with cold, Chanyeol uttered a tiny groan. "All right," he said, giving in to Baekhyun. "Fnd me the nearest subway station."

"You should have made up your mind before," he laughed. And taking his arms he hurried him along the slippery, nearly deserted street in the direction of the subway entrance.

The smelly, warm subway station was a subterarean refuge.They mingled with a motley crowd of prospective riders and waited for the next express to come thundering up. Then they were almost literally propelled inside by the rush of people. Laughing, he stood clutching a strap with Chanyeol beside him.

"I hope this akes us close to home," Chanyeol said, sounding as if the effort hadn't been worth it.

"It will," he promised. "And don't look so miserable."

They had to walk a block across and several blocks up from the exit. But they weren't long blocks so they didn't mind. At last they entered the somber hallway of the brownstone mansion they occupied and removed their wet outer clothing. Then Chanyeol let him into the shadowed drawing room where the housekeeper had started a good log fire blazing in the old-fashioned fireplace.

"Wonderful!" Baekhyun exclaimed, seating himself on a leather-covered stool which he had tugged out before the warm flaming logs.

Chanyeol stood by him, his hands outstretched to the fireplace for some of its heat. He said, "I'm glad to find this awaiting us."

"So am I. I think this gloomy old house is at its best on stormy, dark days," he enthused. "It seems to be suited to them."

The flames played pattern on Chanyeol's aristocratic features. "Don't you like the house?"

He was at once on his guard. "We've been over that before, haven't we? I like it well enough."

Chanyeol was frowning slighlty. "I heard what you said in the restaurant. That it was his house."

Baekhyun lifted his eyebrows. "Did I say that?" he asked with an innocence that was pretended. He knew he had said it, and worse, he felt it to be true.

Chanyeol was openly concerned as he gazed down at him. "You musn't feel that way. It's our house, yours and mine, now."

"Of course." He said it without conviction.

"You must believe that," he insisted. "And I'm sorry I was so foolish this afternoon. I apologize."

Baekhyun looked up at him with bigger smile. "I was mostly concerned for you. That it still hurt so much. That the mere sight of someone who looked like him could so upset you."

"For a moment it was Kyungsoo. I reacted without thinking."

"Even though you know Kyungsoo is dead."

"Even though I know that," he admitted. He spread his hands. "It was one of those crazy things. Let's forget it."

"Yes," Baek said, staring into the flames. "I think we should do that."

There was a moment of silence between them and he moved across the shadowed big room to push aside a window drape and stare out. "It's getting dark early," he said.

"I know," he agreed, remaining on the stool before the fireplace.

"It's going to be a bad storm," he went on. "I wouldn't be surprised if traffic gets in mess again. The snow as piling up on the last few blocks."

"We needn't worry about it since we don't have to go out again tonight," he reminded Chanyeol.

"I suppose not," he said. Then he left the window amd came back to the middle of the room and stood there. Baekhyun was sitting on the stool with his back to him and yet he could tell that his mood was restless and troubled. He was still upset by the incident at the restaurant. The handsome phantom face that had so suddenly appeared in the crowd and then vaished equally as quickly.

He said, "Why don't you sit here before the fire for a while? It's the logical thing to do on a day like this. I'm positive it was what our cave dweller ancestors did."

"Perhaps so," he said, "but I have other things to do. I'm going to work on that troubleshome third act until it's time for dinner. Call me when it's time to come down."

"I will," Baekhyun said quitely. This meant he would be in his study for the next couple of hours, shut away from him as he so often was. In his soundproof study on the upper floor of the old house he was competely isolated. And he seemed to like this. True, he needed quiet for his writing. But did he also want it to be alone with his memories. Memories in which Kyungsoo certainly played an important role.

"You don't mind me leaving you?" his words intruded on Baekhyun's thoughts.

"No," he smiled at him over his shoulder. "I want to see you grapple with that third act and come out the winner."

"Good boy," he said, and he came and kissed him tenderely on the mouth. Then gazing at him with adoring eyes, he said, "I love you more than I ever loved Kyungsoo. I want you to believe hat."

Swiftly straightening and turning to walk quickly from the near darkess of the elegant big room, he left without waiting for any reply from him. It made him wonder whether he had to leave that way to avoid his discovering that his voice were merely pretense. Had he offered him a gentle lie to cure the wound he's received that afternoon?