A/N: This chapter is for all of you to unwind from the emotional rollercoaster that was chapter 04. Enjoy. 

Baekhyun flees Room 412. 

He doesn’t know. He has never felt so much in his life. He has felt echoes of emotions, anger, sorrow, lust, attraction all through the eyes of many of the Guests, whose hearts he had crept in to and ruined. But nothing had lasted, when he leaves their memories, when he creeps back out of their hearts, that is it, nothing of their Worlds follow him back into the white corridors. 

But Kyungsoo and his World does. He has to practically sprint back into his room because he knows what might happen if anyone catches him in tears. He is a senior Examiner, he is the Monster. He did not feel, cannot feel, he should not feel. 

His hands shake as he sits down at the desk, with an Examination Session form, which they all have to fill in with the details of each visit immediately afterwards. Guest room number and Guest code, the paper reads, and Baekhyun fills it easily enough, albeit with shaky handwriting. Methods attempted, it reads. Physical Exercises, Baekhyun writes, thinking of the burns how littering Kyungsoo’s throat down to his heart. Mental Exercises, he writes, thinking of blood spurting out of well-guarded memories in Kyungsoo’s mind as he tore through them. Description of Stories extracted, it says, and Baekhyun pauses, hand poised over the white piece of paper. 

What does he write? What words will ever describe those dying roses, the view from Kyungsoo’s apartment, the husky sounds of the boy when they kiss? What words will ever tell the Story of loneliness meeting yet more loneliness only to discover the beauty of being lonely together? Who will ever read one single page of handwritten notes and understand the vastness of the feelings tumbling around in Kyungsoo’s heart?

What does he write? What words does he put down on that paper that won’t tell anyone how he is reeling, stumbling over all the lingering emotions inside him? How will he write when he can’t see the paper clear enough through his tears? Baekhyun presses too hard and the tip of the pen snaps, bleeding ink to the paper and he lays his head down on it and lets his tears mix with the bleeding ink. He has never cried, never in his time at the Center, he has only watched, with clinical interest as his Guests seem to seep their lives out of their eyes in tears. He hadn’t known, all this time, that it feels like this, that your stomach tumbles and your eyes burn, that your breath seems to bounce away from some place just below your throat denying you much needed oxygen, that your head hurts and your heart thunders and your World, every single thing about it, crumbles in front of you.

Baekhyun’s head feels fuzzy and clogged up. Thoughts seemed to be flying across his consciousness, too fast for him to catch and understand yet too slow for him to think clearly.  He choses the next day to walk away from Room 412 purposefully, taking out a file of another Guest, someone fresh and unbroken, from the Case Stacks in the main hallway. 

The Guest sits on the edge of his bed, swinging his legs slightly. Nothing in the room is broken, the boy seems completely calm and Baekhyun knows this is because no one has tried anything with him yet. He still has no reason to fear this place, as he will very soon. He looks up when Baekhyun enters, smiling slightly, unsure. His eyes are open, unguarded, almost innocent.

“What is your name?” 

“TaeIl. Moon TaeIl.” the boys says softly. 

“TaeIl. Have you ever been in love before?” Baekhyun asks walking unto him. 

The boy blushes. “Not- not really.” 

The should be easy then. Baekhyun sits down next to TaeIl on the bed carefully, almost acting shy. He takes off his mask slowly and runs finger through his hair, letting the tousled strands fall back on his face, eyes never leaving TaeIl’s. Baekhyun has never really seen himself. There are no mirrors at the Center. There is nothing that reflects, no glass, no metal trays, no tiled floors, no clear drinks, even the water they used to wash was dyed a dark, navy blue. It was always just endless expanses of white and their black uniforms. But over the years, the reactions of the Guests, their speeding hearts, sweaty palms, awestruck eyes, have given him quite a bit of insight to this matter. He smiles and watches with pleased eyes as TaeIl’s blush becomes deeper. 

He places a finger on TaeIl’s jawline, feeling the warm pulse of blood beneath it. He leans in closer, this is easy, this is routine, this is - blink and blood spurts out Kyungsoo’s mind - easy, this is routine - blink and Kyungsoo is lying on the ground clutching his chest in grief - and blink TaeIl is looking at him confusion. Baekhyun gets up abruptly and leaves the room.

The next Guest he visits has a voice so eerily similar to Kyungsoo that he doesn’t even bother staying in the room for more than a few minutes.

This happens with Guest after Guest and Baekhyun moves from room to room getting angrier and more frustrated, with his own self more than anything else.

His 6th Guest of the day is a boy named Jimin, his voice high and reedy thin, a welcome difference after hearing Kyungsoo’s low notes echo in his ears all day. Jimin is as easy to open up and wriggle into as a pat of melted butter, his memories are simple and uncomplicated to wiggle through. Blink and there is this high school band he sings with and a boy he follows around adoringly, Jin hyung, Jin hyung, blink and he is working out in the gym, blink and he is looking up at a boy from the ground who holds up a soju bottle in one hand and brings his other fist crashing down towards his face as he whimpers and cowers - Baekhyun startles - blink and he is laughing as he teases one of their band members, ‘you only think you are swag’ and blink, Baekhyun is still caught up in the memory of the man with the soju bottle. 

“Jimin. Jimin. Who was it? Who used to beat you up?” 

The boy blinks his eyes lazily, still reeling from having Baekhyun inside his head. “Beat… me…. up?” he asks, voice laced with confusion. “I - No one, one has ever…”

“No brother? No boyfriend? No father who was ever … disappointed in you?” Baekhyun asks, trying not to be confused himself. 

“No.” Jimin shakes his head vehemently.  And Baekhyun believes him, his eyes, they are the kind some guests have who have never known what is it like to be sad in their whole lives. 

Baekhyun shakes his head. The fog in it doesn't really go away. Guest after Guest he sees things that the Guest themselves know nothing of, making their Stories harder and harder to understand.

But life at the Center goes on. It does not care for nor even notice Baekhyun disintegrating, slowly but surely. He wonders if someone somewhere far away, sitting in front a million little screens feeding from a million Centers’ security cameras has seen him collapsed on his desk, crying, crying till his tears dried out.