Hiello

Please comment any thoughts you have on what I write. I love hearing your opinions, takes, suggestions. This chapter may be subpar again, because I'm writing it while severely jetlagged and with minimal Internet. I hope it's enjoyable!

The trust of the innocent is the liar's greatest tool.

Stephen King

Chanyeol and Boa were, as his father liked to say, the sheaths to each other's blades. They grew up side by side, a near brother-sister connection between them. Boa, being the older one, helped Chanyeol with his homework and kept him in line with his father; when the two reached high school, Chanyeol walked Boa home after the infamously crazy parties she attended and stared down the men who catcalled her on the street. When Boa needed a good cry over boy issues, Chanyeol helped her curse the name of whichever guy it was who hurt her; meanwhile, Boa gave Chanyeol some of the best advice on love, life, and how to go shopping with a girl (but G-d forbid he try to take her). The two were best friends, guardians to one another, protectors.

But Chanyeol was starting to regret asking for help with Baekhyun from Boa.

Boa pressed the heel of her hand against , smothering the laughter that was an inch from bursting. She put down the glass she was polishing and leaned forward on the counter, gasping for breath. 

Chanyeol shifted uneasily, unsure of how to handle a flabbergasted Boa. 

"Oh, honey," she managed, wiping away an inexplicable tear. "Oh, dear."

"What?" Chanyeol glanced over his shoulder at the lady near the door giving him and Boa looks.

"Of all people--" Boa sighed. "You grew up too fast."

"You're one year older than I am."

"And I can still beat you in a fight," she said, grinning. Chanyeol huffed and straightened his collar.

"That doesn't count. I was half-asleep."

"You're a black belt in taekwondo. But enough about that." Boa pushed aside the rag she had been cleaning with. "What do you need help with?"

"Everything." Chanyeol settled into a barstool. "I've never...you know, liked anyone like this."

"Okay, well, let's pick a starting point."

"When do I tell Baekhyun I love him?"

Boa raised an eyebrow. "Hitting the big questions early, you are." She tilted her head. "How do you feel? How comfortable are you with saying it?"

Chanyeol shrugged. "How comfortable to I have to be?"

"You have to mean it." Boa put her hand over Chanyeol's larger one. "Look, I can't actually give you, like, legit advice. I can only tell you what I think. The most important part is your own feelings. You have to feel ready. You have to know how you're feeling, where you want things to go. In the end, the only opinion that matters--" She tapped Chanyeol's forehead. "Is yours."

"That's a copout."

Boa smacked the taller man gently on the arm. "Yah, I'm being serious."

"But how do I know? When do I know when I'm ready."

"You feel it, kiddo. That's all you gotta do." 

Chanyeol sighed heavily. "I hate that kind of answer."

"I can't give you a better one." Boa leaned back. "Think about it. Can you see yourself telling Baekhyun you love him? And can you see yourself really meaning it?"

"Yes. Definitely." Chanyeol swallowed. "Yeah."

Boa smiled, her familiar it'll-be-alright smile. "Well, that's all you need to know."

In a tiny bed and breakfast in the inner city of Highmont, Yixing was sobbing into Luhan's shoulder.

"Oh, shut up, you idiot," the older man said, smiling while near tears himself.

Yixing tightened his arms around Luhan, words failing him completely.

Luhan closed his eyes and sighed. He hadn't been able to walk on real pavement, drive in a real car, sleep on a real bed, for two years, and it was disorienting to just walk into a hotel room. Neither had he been able to really see the beloved former baby of his trio, hold him like this, protect him when he was vulnerable.

Yixing sputtered something, and Luhan opened one eye. "What was that?"

"Y-you're really--you're really here."

Luhan chuckled. "Yeah, I'm here. Not like those dreams Yifan used to have. I'm here."

Yixing sniffled. "Oh my G-d. You're--" He became suddenly serious. "What are we going to do about the police?" he hissed, pushing away from Luhan and holding him out at arm's length.

Luhan rolled his eyes. "You really think I would be careless enough to just bust out? I know what I'm doing." He pinched Yixing's cheeks gently. "Don't worry about me, Xingxing."

Yixing swatted the shorter man's hands away. "No, but Luhan--"

Luhan stood up on his tiptoes, getting his eyes on level with Yixing's. "Xingxing," he said sternly. "I told you not to worry."

Yixing ducked his head, still obedient to the former leader. 

Luhan glared him down for another moment before laughing. "Hey, really. It's okay." Gently, he nudged Yixing's head so he was looking back at him. "I promise, I know what I'm doing. Didn't I say? If there was anything at all I could do to make sure you were okay, I'm doing it."

Yixing stared at Luhan, nodding slightly. 

"Good." 

Baekhyun didn't like being alone in the apartment. It was too big, too spacious, too bright during the day, even with the shades drawn. 

He paced back and forth in the living room in front of the TV. That one area was the size of his house, shared among four people. 

Such a huge place for one person, Baekhyun thought, pausing in front of the massive plush couch. 

Doesn't it ever get lonely?

Baekhyun's phone pinged. Low battery, it warned him. 18%.

He hadn't brought along his charger; Chanyeol had been lending him his. Baekhyun sighed and went into the bedroom. Chanyeol kept his charger in one of the cabinet drawers, he knew. 

Just, which one?

Two bedside tables, one on each side. A dresser in the corner. An inexplicable table dedicated to a single orchid by the window with a drawer underneath it.

Baekhyun sighed again. 

The first bedside table, on the side where Baekhyun slept, had nothing, just the clothes Baekhyun had brought along and a first aid kit. He dug around, just in case. At one point, he mistook the string from a pair of sweatpants as a charger and pulled it clean out.

The other bedside table was better. A few cables and cords were thrown in messily, some grey and some black and one neon pink iPhone charger with a Sharpied name on the head. The charger Baekhyun used was dark grey, and a promising grey cord threaded through the tangle.

Baekhyun separated that one and pulled. A good length slid out before stopping, probably caught in the knot of cords. Baekhyun groaned; later, he'd have a talk with Chanyeol about keeping the chargers tidier. 

He tugged one more time, hoping for something to happen. From within the pile, a strange metallic click sounded, and the entire knot of chargers popped free, smacking Baekhyun in the face. He swore, knocking the whole mess onto the floor. 

Something glinted from inside the drawer. Baekhyun leaned in to look, then recoiled.

There, on top of a cream manila folder, was a black gun.

Baekhyun gulped hard, then peered over the edge of the drawer again. The gun was polished to mirror-like shine, its barrel pointing in Baekhyun's direction like a threatening finger. He poked it gently, flinching when it slid easily into the back of the drawer with a clatter.

"What the f ..." he breathed out, then noticed the manila folder. It looked like any other, except for one thing: his name in script in the top corner. 

Chanyeol took a deep breath in front of his apartment door. His talk with Boa had only served to make him more nervous, along with the collection of instructional essays on ThoughtCatalog.

Something about the words I Love You were very loaded.

He shook his head and unlocked his door, prepared for Baekhyun to greet him.

Instead, the apartment was deathly silent.

Chanyeol froze in the doorway. "Baek?"

A shuffling noise came from the bedroom, and Baekhyun peered out. 

"Oh, thank G-d." Chanyeol grinned and hung his coat up. "I thought you got kidnapped or something." He frowned at Baekhyun, whose face was ominously pale and who hadn't moved an inch. "Hey, you okay?"

Baekhyun took a single step out of the bedroom, his jacket wrapped tight around him and a very familiar manila folder in his hand.

S .

"Hey, what you got there?" Chanyeol said, trying for lightheartedness.

"What's this about?" Baekhyun said, voice shaking as he held up the folder.

Chanyeol's smile vanished. "Oh, that? That's just--"

"Why is someone telling you to kill me?" 

"Baekie--"

"Don't call me that." Baekhyun took another step forward. "Were you going to kill me?"

"No, I--"

Suddenly, Baekhyun threw a pen, and Chanyeol ducked out of the way just before he was hit in the face. 

"Y-you were pretending, weren't you?" Baekhyun stuttered. "You were just p-pretending this whole time, just so you could k-kill me." He pushed past Chanyeol out into the hallway, where he turned and jammed a foot into the door, waiting for an answer in the safety of the security cameras.

"Hey, Baek, please, let me explain--"

"Yeah, do that." Baekhyun folded his arms. 

"Look, I got that letter a while back from...I don't know who the f it is, but he wanted me to...to, well, to off you, and he never even gave a reason...I wasn't--I'm not--"

"Why would someone just send you a letter telling you to murder me?"

Chanyeol felt an electric shock run down his spine. That was a question he never wanted to hear, one he didn't have an answer for that wouldn't get him in more trouble. "Baek--"

"Well?"

"I--I can't..."

Baekhyun was shaking. "Why did I ever trust you?" he spat out. "You just wanted money, didn't you? Was I just blood money?"

Chanyeol reached out. "No, please--"

Baekhyun turned and disappeared down the hall.

Chanyeol grabbed at the closing door, pushing it open hard enough to send it flying into the wall. A pain lanced through his hand, and he looked down at the new cut on his finger from the loose screw he had been meaning to fix for a year.

"Baek," he called out, voice suddenly weak.

The only thing that answered was the sound of a slamming door.