It's almost Thanksgiving here in the States! Since I am thankful for all of you here and I found some time between my classes to write for fun, I thought I would show my appreciation by finally updating. As always, I hope you guys like it, and feedback is greatly appreciated! -Yee <3  

         Chapter Ten

  "I wouldn't worry about it too much, you know?"  Chanyeol's voice was both enthusiastic and reassuring as it boomed through the mostly empty halls of the activities complex, the words rolling from his tongue with an easiness that almost seemed foreign in Zitao's anxious state.  His mind raced as he followed closely behind the taller, thoughts muddled with nervousness and anticipation and possibly regret, already.

     He wouldn't normally do something like this, he was well aware.  Zitao was the type to do his absolute best at blending in, adhering in a perfectly wallflower kind of fashion and doing everything within his capabilities to stay out of the way of other people.  It wasn't normal for him to try out for the school basketball team on a whim, nor was it really in his interest to make what he would consider a friend on his first day of school.  But that's what he would probably classify Baekhyun as, even if they had only known each other since that morning, and the class president was immensely more popular than he would ever be.  Being on the sidelines his entire life made Zitao pretty fantastic at reading people and their intentions, and he could say for a fact that Baekhyun's were nothing but upstanding.  He was a genuine person, which may have been the reason that Zitao didn't protest when the boy pulled some strings with the captain and got him a team try-out during free period the next day.

  "Anyways, I already told the guys that you've never played on an actual team. They're not expecting too much."  They had both changed into clothes more viable for physical exercise than their stiff uniform blazers and slacks, Zitao having borrowed a spare tank top and a pair of shorts.  It was a lot more skin than he typically showed on any given day, which he tried not to think about too hard.  A chill wracked his spine as Chanyeol threw open the hall door.

     He frowned.  "I don't want them to think I can't do anything," Zitao mumbled quietly, his sight downcast as they made their way towards the main entrance of the gymnasium.

     Chanyeol's eyes widened, his head shaking frantically as his hands came up in a comedic sort of way.  "That's not what I meant," he assured quickly.  "It's better that they don't expect anything from you.  You can surprise them that way."  He meant it, Zitao could tell, but before he could stutter an apology, Chanyeol stopped walking altogether.  His gaze softened as he took in the younger's expression.  "I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't play just because you weren't on a team.  I have a feeling that you're pretty good, actually."

     Zitao must have seemed disbelieving, because Chanyeol continued with a reassuring smile.  "Baekhyun told me that you did wushu for years, which means you're strong and fast.  Your height will make you a great center, if we need it, and your overall look will make people underestimate you.  So believe me when I tell you that you don't need to worry.  If I'm right, then we'll definitely need you if we have any hopes of winning the championship game this year."

     Chanyeol clasped Zitao's boney but still leanly muscular arm, his large hand wrapping almost entirely around.  The taller's lips were pressed, his cartoon-like eyes bright and sincere.  It was a similar expression to the one that quite often seemed to adorn Baekhyun's face, and Zitao could tell in an instant why the two were such a great match.  Why Baekhyun had spoken so animatedly about Chanyeol, and why Chanyeol had blushed when Baekhyun introduced them.  Why neither could look each other in the eye for too long.  He didn't know if they knew it, what the other felt or even what they, themselves, felt, but it was clear to Zitao.  Then again, he figured that it was pretty clear to anyone that took the time to look.

     Zitao nodded, suddenly very thankful that he had gotten a chance to meet the both of them, thankful that they so readily accepted him without question.  "Thank you," he mumbled, his voice soft and accented.

     Chanyeol patted him again, his thoughtful countenance slipping into another, more lighthearted one given a mere second.  "Don't worry about it."  The grin was back in full force as he propped open the heavy gym door, the distinctive squeaking sounds of sneakers against wood flooring meeting them halfway.

     Zitao had only ever played basketball with one other person before, that person being his next door neighbor back in China, who, for whatever reason he could possibly come up with, had chosen to befriend Zitao right around the time that all of the other kids had started to bully him.  It was simple at first, a few childish kids in class with a few rather uncreative and unremarkable nicknames designed to harass him.  But then it got worse.  Worse kids, worse nicknames, worse tactics to make Zitao's life a living hell, but not matter what, Minghao was always there for him.  He was the one that would be waiting on Zitao's front porch after school, a box of band aides in hand and a bitter smile on his cheeks.  Even at that moment, all he could think about as he followed quietly behind Chanyeol, listening to the steady hymn of dribbles and the damned shoes, was Minghao.  His brother, and his home.

     The team came to a stop.  Zitao counted ten guys, at least, all turning to face him with varying expressions of surprise.  It was warranted, so late into the weeks of practice, but what Zitao didn't necessarily consider to be fair was the undeniable attractiveness of each and every player.  The tallest, a slender upperclassmen with dark, tousled hair and a soul piercing gaze, offered Zitao a considerate nod before directing himself to Chanyeol.

  "Is this the new kid Lu Han was talking about?"  His voice was smooth, deep.  y.

  "This," Chanyeol again clapped Zitao upon the shoulder with a lively grin, "is Huang Zitao, our newest possible addition."  If the others had a problem with it, they didn't say anything.   Mr. Tall-dark-and-handsome, himself, only gave Zitao a weighted once over.

  "What do ya' say, Kris?  You up for a tryout?"

     Kris, was apparently his name, studied Zitao thoughtfully, eyes tracing the lines of his face, his body.  He could feel himself wanting to shy away, to cover up his exposed skin with something much heavier and less defining than what he was wearing.  But Zitao knew that Kris wasn't looking at him in that way.  He was evaluating him, appraising his worth to the team.  That's what it had to be.  No one ever looked at him just to look.  It didn't happen.  Kris gave a small smile, amused.  Did he know what Zitao was thinking?

  "Sure," he turned away, finally.  "Let's see what you've got, Zitao."

     No words had ever been so thrilling, yet so terrifying in his entire life.
 

     Lu Han had never held any delusions of what kind of person he was.  No unrealistic expectations for himself, little to no remorse for his actions (a majority of the time), and certainly no regrets.  He was the type to sleep with the cheerleaders' boyfriends on a sudden impulse, and he wasn't the type to lie about it, either.  Lu Han was just, well, Lu Han.  It came with a price, of course.  His reckless personality, while lovable, was just that.  Reckless.  Not everyone wanted to bear the occasional crossfire or slowly watch Lu Han destroy himself with every new person he had with.

     Sehun was his price.  Sehun was his love, his life, the boy he had grown up with and fell for a million times over again.  He loved Sehun, more than words could even describe, and that was why he wouldn't hurt him.  He wouldn't let the boy he cared about most in the world spiral down with him.  There were some things that even a person like Lu Han wouldn't do, thresholds he just couldn't cross.  Sehun was his very last threshold.

     Xiumin was his temptation.  He had these dark, unintentionally sultry eyes with some of the softest looking hair Lu Han had ever seen, a sense of humor strikingly similar to his own, and the type of charisma that could charm the pants off any man or woman that even glanced in his general direction, anyone he ever wanted.  Lu Han would know, after all.  Xiumin was what Lu Han would have always thought to want if it wasn't for Sehun.  He didn't know whether he wanted to be buddies with the new guy or screw him into next week, and he briefly allowed himself to entertain the notion that maybe, just maybe, Xiumin would consider both.  These were Lu Han's thoughts as he stood in line for a tray of sub-par cafeteria food, the temptation planted firmly at his side, taking in the new sights with a sort of childish amazement.

  "I've never been in a cafeteria like this before," Xiumin smiled as he reached to grab a stainless steel tray from the stack.  "We've always eaten in our classrooms with home packed meals.  It wasn't like this."  Lu Han repressed a grin as he watched Xiumin's eyebrows furrow in interest, eyes locked on traditional Korean foods as well as foreign ones.  He figured that the other wouldn't be used to the food, unless his parents cooked the same ones often at home.  But even then, Lu Han could remember how hard it was when he first began school in South Korea.  He never did go out much before then.  Having little to no knowledge of the language or culture of the country as a child, the outside world was daunting to him.  It scared him.  And when it came to Korean foods, he hated them.  They were unrecognizable.  They were nothing like what his mother or grandmother would prepare for him at home, and more than anything, that's what Lu Han had wanted.  The food of his home country in a place that was anything but home.

     Of course, Xiumin was no child, and instead agreeably scooped various foreign dishes onto his plate.  Lu Han added a spoon full of kimchi for good measure.  "Well, most schools here aren't like this either."  He followed behind Xiumin for the last few steps, picking up a banana milk from the fridge and handing his student card to the attendant to swipe.  His favorite.  "Our school is set up more like a western school.  We have the actual cafeteria," he gestured widely, "and we have a few more clubs and sports teams than other schools offer.  There's also the student council."

     Xiumin raised a brow.  "Other schools don't have student councils?"

  "Not that I know of," Lu Han hummed, locating a comfortable looking table in the back.  "I mean, they all have class representatives, but I don't think they have the council, per se.  They started it a few years back here.  Mr. Kim thinks it works pretty well, I guess."

     Xiumin nodded, lifting a forkful of noodles to his lips. "And the classes?"

  "They aren't too bad."  Lu Han gave a noncommittal shrug.  "They aren't as bad as the other schools around here.  Also a lot shorter, so technically, you lucked out by coming here."

  "In more ways than one."

  "Yeah, you got to meet me," he smirked, "I'm your real gift."

     Xiumin grinned wryly.  "Then I'm awfully glad that you're the one eating lunch with me.  I suppose I should thank you somehow."

     Lu Han hummed thoughtfully.  "Don't worry about it.  Not only am I model attractive, I'm also the kindest guy you'll meet here."  He paused.  "Well, that's not entirely true."

     Xiumin seemed to contemplate for a moment.  "If that's at least half true, then maybe you would be kind enough to show me around the city sometime.  It's been awhile since the last time I was here.  A lot changes.  How about Saturday?"

     Neither of them noticed the love-struck basketball player waiting outside of the cafeteria doorway, his heart breaking as he turned around, chucking an unopened carton of banana milk into the trash on his way out.

     The normally bustling council room was abnormally quiet as Kyungsoo made his way towards the oversized meeting table, a few minutes or so ahead of his daily schedule.  He was the first to arrive, and usually was, sitting down in his designated seat at the far right end.  His position was one of the most important and prized in such a massive school as their own.  Nearly as important as Baekhyun or Junmyeon, who, not so coincidentally, sat at the same end of the table - Junmyeon opposite of Kyungsoo with the student president heading the table, studiously looking out at his fellow council members, watching for their questioning gazes or signs of disagreement, all while maintaining the friendliest and most charismatic expression in the whole room.  For as much work as it was, and as much bull he withstood on any given day, Do Kyungsoo genuinely enjoyed being on the council.  He enjoyed representing their prestigious academy, the occasional perks that came with the job, and he certainly enjoyed the blackmail.  He was fantastic at it, and even so, he tried his best to only use his powers for the good of the whole.

     Kyungsoo also liked Byun Baekhyun.  Sure, he may have been oblivious, or at least stubborn where his best friend and his own love life were concerned, but it was hard not to like the guy.  He was smart, unbelievably so, amiable, attractive, even if he wasn't specifically Kyungsoo's type, and most importantly, he wasn't a .  If Kyungsoo could ever choose a boyfriend for Chanyeol, it was Baekhyun (who absolutely wasn't too good for the idiot, no matter what he seemed to believe).  And if Kyungsoo had his way, they would be together by the end of the school year.  End of the semester, if he could swing it.  But, if it was going to be done, the two clueless individuals would need a few outside forces pushing them together and forcing them to face their feelings.  That was where Kyungsoo came in.

     The door clicked open again, Lu Han swinging in with a comically and suspiciously large smile.  "Ah," he drawled, "Kyungsoo.  How are you this fine afternoon?"  He ruffled a delicate hand through his baby-soft locks, throwing himself down into the chair next to Junmyeon's.  He kicked his legs on top of the table and leaned back.

  "Not doing as well as you, I imagine," Kyungsoo snorted, shoving his thoughts of his best friend's only slightly helpless and currently non-existent relationship aside.

  "No, I imagine not," the Chinese beauty chirped, another smile curling his lips.  "That would be quite impossible."

     Kyungsoo shifted, falling into a casual position similar to the other male's, minus the feet on the table.  "I'm assuming you have a date if you came in here both early and in a good mood."

  "You wouldn't be wrong, not that I am incapable of being in a good mood without a date."

     Kyungsoo puffed out a short laugh.  "Sure.  So who is it?  Sehun finally ask you out?"

     At the mention of the younger, Lu Han's expression faltered.  Gone was the smile, replaced with a tight-lipped grimace and furrowed brows.  He glanced to the side, refusing to meet the other's stare any longer.  There it is, Kyungsoo thought.  Chanyeol and Baekhyun aren't the only ones that could use an extra push.

  "Never mind," Lu Han mumbled now.  His smile hadn't returned, but he managed to replace his expression with one that was remarkably neutral.  "I had something to talk about with you anyways, which is actually why I came in early."

     Kyungsoo raised his eyebrows, but remained silent, urging the other to continue.

  "You have pool here.  I mean, you can pretty much get whatever you want, even with the teachers."

  "Go on," Kyungsoo insisted smugly.

     Lu Han rolled his eyes, but got to his point, regardless.  "Think you can manage to get Baekhyun and Park in the same room on this trip?"

  "Now this is interesting," Kyungsoo said, sitting up in his seat as he gave his full attention to the other.

  "I know I'm not the only one trying to get those two together, and I could certainly use your," he considered, "abilities."  He straightened as well.  "So, think you can do it?"

     Kyungsoo locked eyes with Lu Han, his own filled with mischief and a strange sense of excitement while his full lips tugged into a confident smirk.   "Who do you think you're talking to?  Of course I can."

     All of the lights inside and outside of his home had been before Baekhyun drove up the illuminated sprawl of pavement later that night.  The fountain, ordinarily turned off following his parents departure, was now on also, jetting water twenty feet into the air, only to drop it back down into an enclosure of polished stone.  A dark town car was pulled up to the front of the house with a uniformed valet pulling luggage from the trunk.  Baekhyun didn't recognize him as an employee of the estate.  He must have worked for his parents' company.  The older man tipped the cap over his crown of salt and pepper colored hair as Baekhyun wandered cautiously to the front door.

     The foyer had been scoured in his absence that afternoon, the expensive rugs cleansed, the frames and artwork dusted, and every solitary piece of wood so clearly shined to glistening perfection.  There were more maids about now.  They were uniformed as well, pressed and posh with dark hair smoothed into matching hairstyles.  No individuality.  Look the same, treat them the same, Baekhyun thought, but they're never treated right.  He felt his heart clench in a way that it always did when he thought about things too hard, things that part of him had always taken as is, even if there was something wrong with them.  That was how he was trained.  He was trained not to think about it.  They were trained too, the way they greeted him in unison, "Good evening, Young Master Baekhyun."  It was said with a polite smile and a formal bow, and even if it wasn't forced, that was how it felt to him.  Forced, fake.

     His parents were in the dining hall, he knew, most likely waiting for him to eat the meal prepared by a team of professional chefs, not just Hyunsook tonight.  He stayed in his own uniform to greet them, but shrugged off his blazer and bag, quietly shoving them into the nearest coat closet before continuing.  Mr. Byun sat at the head of the pretentious table, his eyes stern and serious as he made small talk with his wife, who sat dutifully at his side.  There was a moment before they noticed his presence where he simply looked at the couple.  Baekhyun had never looked like his father, though Yejun appeared as the man's spitting image.  Where his own face was small and feminine, his father's sculpted.   Where his eyes and nose were dainty and fey-like, his father's were solid, masculine.  Baekhyun had always thought that he looked more like his mother, who, even as she grew older, held an admirable, otherworldly sort of beauty.  His father had said once that it was one of the reasons he had agreed to marry her.

  "Son," Mr. Byun's voice was just as stern as his gaze.  Baekhyun bowed shortly but respectfully in return.  His mother's eyes seemed warm to him, at least more so than his father's.

  "Father," his voice was scratchy.  He knew that it was because of his nerves, and he hoped that neither of his parents would notice.  "How was your trip?"

     Mr. Byun seemed to take him in for a moment, quietly observing Baekhyun as he had him.  "It was fine," the man mustered, flicking a wrist towards the seat opposite of his wife.  Baekhyun sat obediently.  "We met with Kang Medicorp.  The merger will be finalized next week.  Your mother and I will be flying out again when it happens."  He was brusque, even as he took a sip of his wine.

  "You went to the business event with Yejun.  How well do you think you did?"  He set down the crystal glass as the maids entered the hall with dinner, Victoria following behind to refresh his parents' drinks.  She kept her eyes downcast as she approached them, refilling quickly and efficiently, keeping her small hands steady as to not accidentally spill any on the table or her employers.  She wouldn't be the first fired for a slip-up.

     Mr. Byun continued to stare him down, even as the servers left.  Baekhyun cleared his throat anxiously, considering what he might say that would appease the rigid man.  "I believe," he began with a false face of security, "that I did well to represent the family within the best of my abilities."  It was easier to play it safe, Baekhyun thought meekly.  To say that he did just as told might seem submissive, and to say that he did not feel he did well enough would appear cowardly.  Mr. Byun scoffed, but made no comment on the topic.

     The family ate mostly in silence, his mother halfheartedly filling portions in with minute details of their trip, and when they were done, Baekhyun's father dismissed him for the night with another wave of the hand.  He thought he saw something in his mother's eyes.  Longing, maybe.  Or maybe Baekhyun was simply seeing things that he wanted to believe were there, because a moment later, the look was gone, and he was alone again.  Baekhyun took his time in walking back to his room, only remembering to stop by the coat closet to collect his things on the way.  He found that he needed the time to think things over on his own.

     His door was cracked open slightly when he approached it, rays of golden light spilling across the patterned wood flooring and into the darkened hallway.  Baekhyun pushed his palm against the solid wood, peering around the corner inquisitively.  Even with her back turned to him, he could tell that it was Hyunsook who stood at the far end of the bookshelves, something cradled loosely in her hands as she peered down at it.  He opened the door farther.  Before Baekhyun could ask, Hyunsook turned towards him.  He recognized the object now as a thin, silver frame he kept in his bedroom - one of the only - with a picture of the two of them inside.  He was younger in the photo.  It had been his first day of middle school.  Neither of his parents could make it to the commencement that day because of work, but Hyunsook had made a big deal out of it all.  She took out one of the family cars, herself, having insisted upon driving him on his big day.  It was more personal that way.  She wore her best dress, spent hours cooking and packing his favorite foods, and nearly insisted upon taking a picture together at the end of the ceremony, Baekhyun still in his pressed new uniform and Hyunsook with her hair done and in clothes that she had only ever worn to church.  It was all she wanted.  Later that week, she had the photos developed and had one framed for the both of them.

     She set the frame back on the shelf.  "Baekhyun," her voice was soft as she called to him, "I-" she paused.  Seeming to contemplate for a moment, she opened again.  "You know that your parents just want what is best for you, right?"  Her eyes locked with his, waiting.  He nodded.

     Her lips pressed into a tight, straight line.  "I just want you to know that I love you.  Your parents love you.  If I ever thought that they didn't, I would," her syllables were hoarse now, emotional, "well, I don't really know what I would do.  But I wouldn't stand by and let them do this if they didn't love you."  She ran a shaky hand down her face.  She looked older in that moment.  Just for a second, Baekhyun could see the years in her, the years she had stood by, but never passively.  Not in Baekhyun's mind, at least.  Hyunsook was his savior.

  "Even if it seems wrong or... twisted," she continued, though he could tell how difficult it was for her, "they push you because they want you to succeed.  I just wanted you to know that."

     Baekhyun did know that, reasonably, but it didn't make it hurt any less.  "I know," he replied softly.  He grasped her hand gently in his.  "But thank you.  Sometimes, I need this."

     He didn't elaborate further.  He didn't have to.  Hyunsook studied him, her eyes pleading, explaining everything she had ever wanted to tell him but didn't have the courage to.  She still couldn't tell him, not yet, so she turned and left, like she had never been waiting there for him at all.  Maybe it was his parents' sudden and most likely brief return, or Hyunsook's obvious guilt over something that had never in any way been her fault, or possibly a grand combination of the two that had Baekhyun reaching for his phone.  He didn't even register himself as he punched in the familiar number and gingerly slipped the device to his ear.  It was only a few seconds before someone picked up at the other end.

  "Hello?" the voice was low, masculine, and the one most comforting sounds in the entire world at that moment.

  "Chanyeol?  I know it's kind of sudden, but," his voice trembled, "will you meet me somewhere tonight?"
 

(Edited August 20, 2017)