Chanyeol sat on his couch wrapped in a comforter with a bowl of macaroni and a guitar on his lap. Already on the table was a bunch of sheet music held down by a water bottle full of orange juice.. Tonight his parents were away to some New Year’s Eve party -- which he had been not invited to -- so he had the whole house to sing in without any disturbance. Not that he minded, though; it’s not like he had no social life or anything and would jump at the chance to do something with his life. But just as he was settling down into his comforter-cave, he heard the front door’s handle rattle. In that moment, everything that could go wrong flashed through Chanyeol’s mind. First thought was a serial killer who had been stalking him, just waiting for the right chance to get him alone and murder the out of him. The next thing that came to mind was a . Chanyeol wrapped his blanket around him tighter -- never would he let anyone violate his body. Then his thoughts became irrational. What if it was a ghost just trying to spook him? Or it could have been a vampire ready to on his blood. Chanyeol took out his phone, and as he began to dial the police, he heard slurred yelling from outside.

“Open thuh damn door! I thought y’all wurr open twenty-four-seven! I wunt mah damned fries!” Chanyeol frowned. The voice couldn’t have been older than eighteen. It had cracked a few times during the yelling. Slowly, he emerged from his cocoon and went over to his front door to look out the peephole. Standing on his doorstep with a flustered face seeming a bit woozy was a young boy about Chanyeol’s age with tousled hair. “I swear teh gawd, I will sue yer company if y’all dunt open up!”

“I-I think you have the wrong place.” Chanyeol said.

“Excuuuse meh?” the boy slurred.

“I said I think you have the wrong place.” Chanyeol said a bit firmer this time.

“I dunt think so. I know a McDonalds when I see one, dunt you trah to reject a customer, yah money pigs.”

Chanyeol, although taken aback, laughed. He laughed for a good while. The boy on his doorstep seemed to be muttering something about bad customer service, and just as he was about to turn away and walk off, Chanyeol opened the door.

“I’m not a McDonalds, but you kind of look like you need help. It’s not really safe outside this late, especially in your condition.” Chanyeol said, waving the boy in. For a moment, the boy looked at him, bewildered, before taking a few wobbly steps into the house.

“Weirdest McDonalds I’ve ever seen…” the boy muttered and flopped down on the couch, narrowly missing Chanyeol’s guitar.

“Uh, so what’s your name?” Chanyeol asked, taking a seat next to the drunk.

“MmmmmmmmmmmBaekkie.” The boy hiccuped. “Baekkie…” he giggled.

“So your name is Baekkie?” Chanyeol cocked an eyebrow. Weird name.

“No, no, no! I said Baekhyun! Listen the furst time!”

“Oh, sorry.”

Baekhyun glanced over at Chanyeol with glazed eyes. For a moment, he stared at Chanyeol. From his ash-blond hair, to his glasses, University sweatshirt, and sweatpants. All of a sudden, he stuck his hand out and smacked Chanyeol’s stomach. Chanyeol doubled over in pain, and took the small hand off of him.

“What was that for?” Chanyeol wheezed.

Baekhyun stuck his hand out again, but this time it pointed to the guitar next to him. “Play.”

“What…?”

“Play thuh damn guitar!”

“Fine! Just don’t smack me!” Chanyeol muttered and grabbed his guitar, adjusting it on his leg so it wouldn’t hit Baekhyun. Then he pulled the pick from the strings and placed his fingers on the strings and strummed a bit. After a few seconds, he looked at Baekhyun who was staring at the ceiling, mouth hanging open and a bit of drool coming from the corner. Chanyeol smiled and began to sing as he played. In the middle of the second song, he felt a head fall to his shoulder, and he looked over to see Baekhyun fast asleep -- still drooling -- with a small smile on his face. Chanyeol finished the second song and gently set his guitar to the side. He grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and wiped the trail of drool before gently setting Baekhyun’s head down on a pillow as he stood. Right as he was walking away with his guitar, he heard Baekhyun murmur something that sounded similar to “I want my ing french fries, damnit.” Chanyeol laughed and made sure to turn out the lights in the living room before going to bed.

That night, as Chanyeol settled into bed at around twelve, he thought to himself, what a strange New Year.