Anxious brown eyes scan the crowd littering the large cafe, searching for a blinding angel among a sea of unfamiliar faces. His stomach is full of those dumb butterflies that every romance story ever written contains and he wishes they would cease their fluttering long enough to find the person he came here for. An incessant pounding fills his head and he pleads for his nervous heart to give him a chance this time, so that he won't embarrass himself again.

Dark thoughts take the nervous man back to the last time the two had met. He had been just as nervous and the meeting ended five minutes after starting. Junmyeon had stayed seated and reached across the table to shake Yixing’s hand, a formality that grabbed Yixing’s sanity by the throat, and when they retracted hands the driver accidentally knocked over the manager’s coffee. With a strained smile Junmyeon forced a laugh, knowing his favorite shirt was about to stain, and excused himself from the table.

“Yixing, over here!”

The apprehensive male whips his head to the far left and finally connects with the eyes he’s been dying to see for a while now. The man waiting patiently at the table is wearing one of his signature smiles, the one where all of his pearly teeth show and his eyes turn into little crescents. A smile makes it way onto Yixing’s face without much thought and he notices Junmyeon’s eyes move to glance at his dimple.

The driver forces his feet to move towards the table and the butterflies become frantic when Junmyeon stands. The older male is smirking now, his bright eyes looking mischievous as he moves to pull out Yixing’s chair. Yixing on the other hand swears that his heart just skipped a couple of beats and now he’s stupidly looking down at Junmyeon, blinking innocently.

“Sit down,” Junmyeon chuckles, gesturing towards the chair. He doesn’t wait for the younger to take a seat before going back to his own, settling down. The manager connects their eyes and Yixing immediately breaks it, scrambling for his seat like a nervous teen. “I’m glad you could make it, Xing. I already ordered you a coffee.”

“T-Thanks,” the younger stutters helplessly, keeping his eyes trained on the tablecloth. It’s very rare that Junmyeon ever uses the nickname and Yixing forces his cheeks not to turn pink, he can’t blush like a child in front of this man. “Did you ask for-”

“An iced mocha with extra sugar and creamer? Yes, I did.”

Yixing squeezes his eyes shut as the beating in his chest continues to increase, the thumping becoming louder than any other noise in this crowded room. He can’t believe that Junmyeon somehow remembered how he likes his coffee from this place, and the blush he’s been holding back slowly creeps back onto his face. With burning cheeks he looks up at the older male and gives his best smile.

“How was Chanyeol this morning?” Junmyeon questions, switching into business mode. Although the question is a serious one the elder’s smile still stays light and airy, showcasing its beauty like a flower basking under the sun’s rays. That’s when Yixing wonders how someone so beautiful is sitting across from him, offering his smile like a platter from a menu, and allowing the younger to bask in the warmth it brings.

“B-Better, I think. He found that dumb red hoodie again so I think that helped a little.”

The waitress comes back before Junmyeon can comment on the sweater and sets down one coffee. Her bright eyes fall on Junmyeon and she grants him a smile almost as blinding as his own, her perfect teeth and pink cheeks taunt Yixing subconsciously and the younger goes back to staring down at the table cloth.

“Can I get you anything to eat? I recommend the biscuits and gravy, it’s my favorite thing on the menu!” Her high pitched voice echoes through Yixing’s ears like a bad note and he openly flinches, knowing that her eyes are too preoccupied undressing Junmyeon.

“Ah, I don’t like gravy that much. I’ll just have the breakfast wrap please. Without the peppers and onions.”

Her pen glides across the pad of paper and she starts walking away.

“Excuse me, ma’am!”

She turns around immediately, again her eyes land directly on Junmyeon as if Yixing isn’t sitting right there. That sickening smile reappears and she saunters back over, both hands planting on the table so she could lean over and get closer to Junmyeon’s face. The scene in front of Yixing is like the one he’s seen in every bad romance novel over and over again. Her s are poking prominently from her tight shirt and she’s batting her eyelashes as if Junmyeon should be ordering her instead of actual food.

“There’s another person sitting at this table,” Junmyeon informs her, his eyes traveling to look at the nervous mess before him. “Not only did you blatantly ignore his existence, you also somehow forgot his coffee. So, if you don’t want me to request to see your manager, I suggest taking his order and making his coffee.”

She’s standing straight in no time, pulling up the top of her shirt and turning to look at Yixing. Those dark, judgemental eyes graze over his features with disgust and he self-consciously pulls the ends of his sweater over his knuckles. Her pen is poised, waiting for Yixing to order, and the only thing he can concentrate on is how the butterflies fluttering away in his stomach transformed into a raging cluster of ravenous moths, chewing away at the mountains of insecurities.

“I-I’m not hungry, Mr. Kim,” he whispers, the noise barely audible above the deafening sound of his heart.

“He’ll have the same thing as me, thank you.”

The younger can feel Junmyeon’s eyes on him as her heels recede into the kitchen with their orders. He doesn’t dare looking up, he knows better than to meet the elder’s eyes in situations like these. Yixing is an open book and Junmyeon is the reader with piercing eyes that sees right through him, and whether the elder is aware of it or not, he holds the driver between his perfect fingers. All Junmyeon has to do is turn a couple of pages and Yixing blindly follows through, his faith so invested that half of the time he doesn’t even think twice about it.

“Xing,” Junmyeon calls out, his hand moving to grasp Yixing's fist. “You seem really tense, did she bother you?”

“Mr. Kim...what're you doing?” Yixing breathes out, moving his hand away from the elder’s. “I don’t...I don’t think that’s very professional.”

Junmyeon ignores the younger, his fingers already reeling Yixing’s hand back into his own. Yixing's whole body is tense and he closes his eyes once more, trying to focus on anything but the sensation radiating from his hand. He isn’t used to Junmyeon being this upfront, they’ve never openly touched each other, and that only twists his sanity even more.

“Do you...want me to stop?” Junmyeon’s soft words hold a level of seriousness that play with the strings of Yixing’s throbbing heart.

How am I supposed to say no to this, Yixing thinks helplessly, how am I ever supposed to say anything when he makes my whole body feel this way?

“I...I want-”

The annoying click of the waitress’s heels cuts Yixing off and he retracts his hand before her judgemental eyes make it to the table. Without a word, she sets the younger’s coffee on the table, bows and then stares at their hands before walking back to the kitchen.

“She definitely saw that,” Yixing mutters, moving his hands under the table.

“Is it a problem that she saw?” Junmyeon probes, his eyes peering straight into the younger’s.

“Y-Yes,” the driver finally stutters, deciding now that he needs to stand his ground. “You can’t just touch me in public however you like, Mr. Kim, it’s not in my contract to-”

The maddening ring of Junmyeon’s phone cuts the younger’s lecture short and Junmyeon just keeps staring, ignoring his phone.

“Continue, Xing, I’m very interested.”

“I came here for a business meeting, not a date, and I would appreciate it if you kept everything professional,” Yixing requests, both hands moving to cup the cold cup before him. He lowers his head to sip from the straw poking out from the light brown liquid and Junmyeon tilts his gaze to get a better view. He watches as the younger’s lips innocently wrap around the straw and he smirks before moving his gaze to his phone.

1 missed call from Kyungsoo.

“I need to take this,” the manager sighs before redialing the chef’s number, pushing the annoying device up against the shell of his ear.

“Mr. Kim! I don’t think Chanyeol’s medicine is working!”

Kyungsoo’s words bounce around the manager’s head like a ball and the elder’s mouth becomes dry with worry. He’s seen firsthand how awful Chanyeol can look and now all he can imagine is the model resembling a leper.

“Explain.”

“I’ve only seen his face and neck but they’re really bright and agitated. He told me not to call you guys but...I figured you should know. I’m sorry if I ruined your date.”

“We’ll be there soon. Don’t worry too much about Chanyeol, he’ll probably just go back to his room and hide there, but I need you to run an oatmeal bath for him. He’s going to fight it, so just go into his bathroom and do it anyways,” the manager explains, sipping on his coffee lightly. “We’ll be over as soon as we’re done eating.”

~~

It wasn’t the sound of his door creaking open that had Chanyeol poking his head from under the thick comforter hiding his large body; nor was it the padding of someone’s feet moving across the wooden floor, but instead the sound of the tub filling with water. Cautiously, he makes a hole for his eyes to peer from, the rest of his body staying safe from whoever had entered.

“W-Who’s in here?”

“Junmyeon wanted me to run you an oatmeal bath. I don’t care if you get in it or not.”

Kyungsoo’s voice scares the elder and he pulls the blanket back up, his eyes closing tightly. He thinks for a second that maybe the cover will work as some kind of invisibility cloak, that it would hide him from the chef’s piercing gaze, and he would be able to endure this meeting. He didn’t want Kyungsoo to see his rashes again, better yet he didn’t want another living, breathing person to see the splotches.

“I’ve already seen them,” Kyungsoo sighs loudly, ripping the blanket from the elder’s body.

So, maybe hoping for an invisibility cloak was a little far, Chanyeol thinks before covering his face with his hands.

“Get out,” the younger mutters like a child. He didn’t care if Kyungsoo had already seen his ugly rashes, the chef definitely didn’t need to see them for a second time.

“As soon as the tub is full enough, I’ll be out of your hair. Believe me, I don’t want to be up here either.”

Chanyeol just sighs, finally uncovering his itchy face. He drags his body up into a sitting position and then pulls his knees up to his chest. When his eyes sweep the room, he finds Kyungsoo leaning against the bathroom door frame, just like this morning in the kitchen, arms crossed across his small chest. Black skinny jeans loosely hug his legs and a light blue sweater stretches across the planes of his torso, and Chanyeol has to admit that he looks damn good.

“I like the sweater,” Chanyeol tries, smiling sweetly at the scowling chef.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Kyungsoo sighs loudly, tugging at the sleeves so that they are pulled over his knuckles. “Oatmeal may be a food but this definitely isn’t in my job description.”

“I...I-”

“Don’t bother, just let me finish this so I can leave.” With that said, the younger goes into the bathroom to check on the water, leaving Chanyeol confused. His plump lips form a small ‘o’ and his eyebrows are scrunched in disbelief.

“I was just trying to compliment you,” the model mumbles, his lips forming that small pout. The one where his bottom lip protrudes only slightly and his upper lip retracts, also known as the one that has successfully snatched the hearts of many people, the one that usually gets him whatever and whoever he wants.

“There,” Kyungsoo announces soon after, exiting the bathroom with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “Hurry and get in before it gets cold. I won’t be doing this again.” With that his socked feet begin retreating to the door, hands awkwardly swinging by his sides.

“Wait,” Chanyeol pathetically calls out, quickly crawling to the end of the bed. He’s aware that he’s still only in his boxers and a hoodie, but if Kyungsoo didn’t oogle at him this morning when he was practically then he is sure this wouldn’t be a problem. “Could you...keep me company? I don’t like being alone.”

“What?” Kyungsoo’s voice raises in volume and he swivels back to stare incredulously at the elder. His eyes are holding an emotion close to disgust and it has Chanyeol backing away, hands shoved into the front of his hoodie. “You want me to keep you company?”

“Y-Yeah,” the model stutters, “I thought maybe you also didn’t want to be alone…”

“Being alone downstairs is better than keeping you company, Mr. Park. So, only ask me food-related questions from now on.” After the mean words leave his lips, he makes his way out of the room, lightly slamming the door as he goes. Drawing an oatmeal bath was close enough to crossing the line, but actually keeping Chanyeol company while he bathed would be more than a few steps over that line he drew for comfort.

~~

“Stop worrying about stupid things, Chanyeol! We can only afford these off weeks for so long before some media or news site realizes there’s something wrong. If this information reaches the public it’s going to be extremely hard for you to get another contract and you’ll definitely lose the ones you have now!” Junmyeon scolds harshly, his voice bouncing off the walls of Chanyeol’s living room.

“Give him a break, Mr. Kim. You’re the one who shoved a stranger into his home and then cut off all the control he had,” Yixing argues back boldly. The driver is seated next to the itchy model on one of the couches, Kyungsoo is sitting alone on the loveseat, and the angry manager is standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed.

“Yixing, this has nothing to do with you, don’t defend him,” the manager sighs, not even bothering to look at the driver. Junmyeon is angry about the rashes but he also knows that most of his anger came from their meeting being ruined this morning. He had planned on showing Yixing the best time and now they’re back to dealing with Chanyeol’s health issues.

“They’ll go away,” Chanyeol mutters defiantly, his fingers pulling on the drawstrings of the red hoodie. “A week should be enough time.”

“And what’s the excuse this time? Hmm, Chanyeol? We’ve already used every excuse in the damn book! So, please, tell me what I’m supposed to tell your new magazine or better yet the ones lined up down the street to meet with you?” Junmyeon basically screams, waving his arms around like a madman. The stressed manager could feel the anger boiling in his blood and traveling through his body like a steamy poison, and the more he thinks about all the profit being lost, the angrier he gets.

“Myeonnie,” Yixing calls out, standing from the couch. The use of of such an informal nickname has everyone in the room gaping at the young driver, their eyes widen. “Don’t talk to him like that! He can’t control his rashes and you should be taking responsibility for this outbreak, seeing as it is actually your fault!”

“No, he’s right,” Chanyeol comments bitterly, also standing from the couch so he could look Junmyeon in the eye. “If I wasn’t such a ing with fried nerves maybe my skin wouldn’t look diseased. Maybe I should try weed, Mr. Kim, how do you think our contracts would like that? At least I wouldn’t be cursed with these ing spots!”

“Channie, don’t talk like that,” Yixing sighs, putting an arm around the younger’s waist. “Maybe you and Kyungsoo should go into a different room. Maybe show him where the game room is, hmm? Let me talk to Mr. Kim.”

“No, he can’t leave, I’m not done screaming!” Junmyeon argues quickly, stepping closer to the pair.

“I think you are done yelling at him,” Yixing counters. “Leave him alone for something he can’t control.”

“He needs to learn to control it,” Junmyeon sneers, looking up harshly at the driver. “Both of our jobs are on the line if he can’t.”

“Mr. Park,” Kyungsoo calls from the other side of the room, surprising everyone. Despite witnessing what seems to be an intense verbal fight he’s surprisingly calm, his eyes aren’t even shaking with fear, and seeing him like this has everyone else slowly coming back to reality. “Show me to the game room please.”

Chanyeol looks at the other in complete disbelief, his nose scrunching gently as he removes himself from the driver’s grip. He quickly wonders what kind of game the chef is playing but ultimately decides to silence his thoughts until he’s safely escaped the tense scene. His better judgement has him leaving the room immediately, not even turning back to see if Kyungsoo is following him or not, and makes his way to one of the places that always calms him down.

The game room isn’t anything special when it comes to the design department, the couches and bean bags are a little worn from a couple years use and the carpet has stains from drunk nights with his best friends, but it reminded him of all the good times. Games line the shelving on the walls and two gaming systems are plugged up to two different flat screens. It’s safe to say that the only thing that’s been upgraded in the past few years are the large TVs, and maybe a couple of controllers but that’s a different story.

“Well, this is it,” Chanyeol announces, whether to himself or to Kyungsoo, he doesn’t know, and plops down on the only recliner in the whole room. Other than Sehun, Kai, and Yiixing no one else has been up here, even his friends haven’t seen the room in ages, and introducing someone new to the scene feels a little foreign. He isn’t used to having some stranger up here.

“I don’t actually care,” Kyungsoo sighs, his settling on a black couch across the room. The chef had chosen the farthest spot away from the model and frankly the elder didn’t blame him, it’s not like they were best buds. “I just knew you shouldn’t be in there for much longer. We wouldn’t want those rashes getting any worse.”

“Oh, right,” Chanyeol sighs, feeling like an idiot. Why would Kyungsoo care about about this room? He doesn’t know all the sentimental meanings attached to every controller that lay broken in the corner, or know the story behind every stain littering the carpet. No, to Kyungsoo this is just a room with a really dirty flooring and worn out couches.

Chanyeol dumbly starts grinning at a large brown stain in the middle of the dingy carpet. This stain is the biggest by far and the story attached to it made the model yearn for the old days, the ones where Sehun and Kai were here almost everyday, back when none of their careers had actually taken off. They all lived here in this house, splitting the rent, and living day by day, check by pitiful check. The memories flashing are enough for the model to pull out his phone and text the groupchat that died long ago.

Chanyeol: Remember the good old days in the game room? Still trying to figure out how to get that damn stain out.

Bittersweet memories bring back bittersweet feelings and it isn’t long before he’s half laughing and half crying at the stupid stain. He’d do anything to turn back the clock, even if they struggled to pay rent and feed themselves, the young model knew he’d do anything to get away from his nagging manager and back to his best friends. No, best friends didn’t even begin to explain the connection the three held. Brothers is a better term, and deep down Chanyeol knew they’d be brothers for a long time.