e p i s o d e   i x

“Poor thing…”

“At such a young age too…”

“Orphaned…”

“How gruesome…”

“In front of the child?!”

“Blood everywhere…”

“The worst I’ve seen in years…”

“The offender’s still at large…”

“Zitao?”

“Zitao…”

“Zitao!”

Zitao snaps his head up and jolts in shock, nearly falling out of his seat at how close the other’s face is to his. “Huh? I- who- oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Sehun echoes, peering down at the Chinese with his ever so intense gaze. It makes Zitao twist uncomfortably in his seat, as though the other can see right through him down to the darkest roots of his past. “Did… Did I say your name properly?”

“What?” Zitao blinks at the disarmingly innocent question. “Uh, sort of. I usually just go by Tao since it’s simpler. Koreans usually have a harder time enunciating the ‘zi’ syllable.”

“Tao,” Sehun repeats, his tongue peeking out to swipe over and wet his lips. Zitao’s eyes subconsciously follow the motion. “I’m Sehun.”

“I remember! We ran into each other in the hall the other day.” Zitao lets out a nervous laugh, noting how Sehun unexpectedly brightens at his response. “Did, uh, did you need something?”

“Oh, um…” Sehun seems at a loss for words as though he isn’t quite sure of the answer himself, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just- you weren’t here… last class.”

There’s something almost childishly accusatory about his expression that has Zitao struggling to hold back his amusement. “I was- pft- I just had to be somewhere else that day. I’m surprised you noticed, to be honest.”

“A coincidence,” Sehun fakes a cough to hide his embarrassment. “I- I just happened to notice that you didn’t seem to be in the usual area you sit at.”

“Right,” Zitao giggles lightly, a sound that has Sehun’s ears feeling warm for whatever reason. “I didn’t miss anything important last lecture, did I? I already looked over the notes the professor posted online but I wasn’t sure if Kang gyosu announced anything new.”

“No, you’re good,” Sehun takes a deep breath. Jongin would probably be ting bricks if he were here to witness Sehun willingly engaging in social interaction for this long. “We… We could, you know, start a study group?”

“A study group?”

Sehun nods his head jerkily, not trusting himself to speak at this point. He’s never done something like this before, approaching people and actively conversing with them. This is Jongin’s territory. Yet something about the way Sehun has to step out of his comfort zone and wait with bated breath for each of Zitao’s responses makes him feel some sort of… exhilaration?

“Don’t you already have a friend that’s a sociology major though?”

, Sehun takes it all back. Socializing is the worst, human interaction is the worst, dealing with living people and all these foreign emotions is the worst. This is all Jongin’s fault. “Ah…”

“Oh, sorry! I hope I didn’t come across as rude or anything,” Zitao cringes, “I just… this class should be an easy A, so I don’t think a study group would be really productive. I’m… I’m free for an hour or so after that class if there’s something you want to go over though? We can grab lunch while we’re at it if you really need the help.”

No, Sehun most certainly doesn’t need the help. He’s averaging a 110 in the class after their last exam came with extra credit and he could honestly probably name more sociological theories than Kang gyosu at the moment. And he most certainly doesn’t enjoying eating meals with others, only sitting with the others in K for dinner on occasion because it keeps him on Kyungsoo’s good side. He’d rather eat his own face than eat with others in most cases. But somehow, just the thought of having Zitao all to himself to question for that hour has Sehun miraculously nodding his head numbly, murmuring a soft thanks.

Their professor walks up to the front of the lecture hall to begin another boring lesson and Sehun realizes that he’s managed to hold a full five-minute conversation with Zitao- a record length in Sehun’s book. Another glance to the back row has him also realizing that his spot has been taken by a group of latecomers.

But as Zitao pats the seat next to him, offering Sehun a place to sit with a small smile, Sehun decides that perhaps social interaction may not be quite so bad after all.

“I wouldn’t get in the car if I were you.”

Chanyeol whips around in record speed and explodes forward to slam the voice’s owner against the cold concrete walls of the parking garage, pressing his elbow hard against the other’s neck. Upon confirming the other’s identity, he lets go and takes a step back. “Oh, Jongin.”

“Jesus ,” Jongin groans, rubbing at the back of his head with one hand and massaging at the potential bruising on his throat. “What is it with you all and going for the jugular? God, I think I have whiplash and a concussion all in one.”

“I wasn’t going for the jugular, I was aiming to crush your windpipe,” is all Chanyeol says in that brief manner of his.

“Totally beside the point,” Jongin glares at him, but it does little to faze the elder. “Is this how you greet all your friends?”

“Your fault for trying to sneak up behind me like that,” Chanyeol shrugs.

“As if you didn’t know I was here,” Jongin glowers.

Chanyeol pauses for a moment, before letting out a ghost of a smirk. “You’re right, I did know.”

“You !”

“But I didn’t know it was you,” Chanyeol crosses his arms, “What are you doing here anyway? How did you find me?”

“Simple. All I had to do was follow Baekhyun around for a day or two.”

Chanyeol freezes, before cursing under his breath. Baekhyun has uncannily always been just a bit too good at tracking Chanyeol’s whereabouts no matter how hard the marksman tries to cover his trail. The kid’s like a bloodhound when it comes to Chanyeol. “So he’s upset.”

“If rigging your car with enough explosives to take out half the district is his way of saying he’s upset, then I’d say you’re right on the money.” Jongin helpfully supplies.

Chanyeol’s mouth draws into a tight line of frustration. One of his favorite rifles and its scope are still in the trunk, but unless he’s looking to get himself killed within the next few minutes he’ll have to learn how to say goodbye. “So, we’re going to have to look for another ride?”

Jongin pulls out a set of car keys from his back pocket with a scoff. “Who do you think I am?”

If Chanyeol is surprised, he doesn’t show it. “I thought you came here with Baekhyun?”

“Followed, I followed Baekhyun here,” Jongin corrects, spinning on his heel and walking back over to another nearby vehicle, “Funny thing is, he’s so honed in on you at times, he doesn’t even notice his surroundings, like when I tailed right behind him for a solid 40 miles on the way here. I honked and everything but he didn’t glance back once.”

“Hilarious,” Chanyeol grumbles, though the tone in his voice suggests anything but. There isn’t much all too amusing to him about someone blatantly pointing out Baekhyun’s weaknesses. Baekhyun’s bound to get himself arrested with that degree of recklessness in a city setting like here and it’s for that exact reason that Chanyeol was originally so reluctant to take up Junmyeon’s offer. He slides into the front passenger seat and readjusts the seat back to fit his long legs. Curse Junmyeon and Kyungsoo and their short limbs. It isn’t until they’re out of the city and back onto the highway that he speaks again. “So Kyungsoo had you skip classes the past couple of days just to tail Baekhyun and play damage control?”

“Sort of,” Jongin stops to sing along to the chorus of the song playing on the radio before continuing, “It was also partially my fault Baekhyun got so upset about you leaving in the first place.”

“Of course,” Chanyeol snorts apathetically, before deciding to lower the seat and throwing an arm over his face to block out the sun for a short nap. It’s practically common knowledge that Jongin enjoys to mess around with Baekhyun and purposely rile the other up. Partly because Baekhyun has the shortest temper out of all of them, but also partly because Jongin knows that he’ll have Kyungsoo’s protection if things get out of hand.

Quite the manipulative little bastard Junmyeon’s picked up. Even Sehun’s sociopathic tendencies and affinity for dead bodies don’t give Chanyeol quite the chill he gets when he sees Jongin toy around with others like puppets, a silly, innocent little smile plastered on his handsome features.

Chanyeol drifts off for several minutes before Jongin strikes up another conversation with him. “How was your little meeting with that, uh, ‘old friend’ of yours?”

“Baekhyun told you that too?” Chanyeol doesn’t even need to open him eyes to know that Jongin’s nodding. “Damn it, you must have really pissed him off.”

“He just about filled half your car with gasoline to ensure maximum damage and you think he’s mad because he told me about your secret military days?” Jongin asks in disbelief, “You all have some weird ing standards, you know that right?”

“Baek doesn’t usually disclose parts of our past like that so easily,” Chanyeol clarifies.

“Like hell. He’s practically run my ear deaf with all the times he’s told me about your all’s adventures.”

“That’s because those are his favorite memories, he’d take the rest of them to the grave if he had to.”

“Hmm,” Jongin says thoughtfully, staring out into the distance before he feels Chanyeol grabbing his ear and twisting hard. The car swerves momentarily. “Ow! What the , Chanyeol?! I’m driving here! We just escaped death by exploding car half an hour ago and here you are trying to get us killed again!”

“If I so much as get the slightest inkling that you’re snooping around and trying to get Baek’s unhappy memories out of him against his will,” Chanyeol growls lowly, “I’ll take my rifle and shoot your full of lead. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Jongin squeaks, letting out a sigh of relief as Chanyeol releases his ear and returns to his former napping position. “Damn, and I thought Baekhyun was the more protective one between the two of you.”

Chanyeol’s free arm swings up to blindly smack Jongin across the chest.

“Ow! Okay, now this is just plain abuse!”

It’s late into the night by the time they make it back to their base.

Jongin immediately stumbles up to his room, murmuring something about being tired as and needing to rest all his new injuries before disappearing around the corner. Despite all of the alarms going off in his mind telling him to avoid possible death until he at least gets a few hours of sleep, Chanyeol still finds himself stopping by Baekhyun’s room first, gently turning the doorknob so as not to make a noise and pushing the door open.

The lights are off, but the moonlight peeking through the window helps Chanyeol’s eyes make out what isn’t a human being but rather an object on Baekhyun’s bed. More specifically, the rifle and scope he previously thought he had lost to his bomb rigged car. Even with all his anger, Baekhyun could never bring himself to destroy something that holds that much value to Chanyeol.

Almost immediately, Chanyeol hurries out of the empty bedroom, closing the door swiftly and crossing the hall to his own bedroom with frantic steps, where a small but familiar figure lies curled up under Chanyeol’s sheets. The pillowcase underneath his delicate face is still slightly damp with tears. Chanyeol quickly undresses down to his boxers and crawls into the bed, pulling the other into his arms and holding him tight.

“I hate you,” he hears Baekhyun murmurs into his chest, voice croaky from sleep and crying. “You don’t- don’t even know how worried I was about you. You didn’t even tell me-”

“Shh,” Chanyeol cups the back of Baekhyun’s head with his hand, at the other’s hair softly. “I’m here. I’m back. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, okay?”

He lets out a hiss in pain when Baekhyun drives his knee into Chanyeol’s family jewels. Despite the crippling agony he feels, he can’t help but feel relieved when Baekhyun eventually still snuggles in close.

“You deserved that.”

“I did.”

Baekhyun lets out a huff. It’s nearly impossible to stay mad at Chanyeol for long when he doesn’t so much as argue back. But perhaps that one of the very reasons why they’ve stayed partners after all these years. “You’re ing lucky I think you’re cute.”

Chanyeol laces the fingers of their free hands together with a gentle smile.

“Very lucky.”

“Hey, have you seen Yixing? It’s not like him to leave his desk when he’s not on a break.” Jongdae leans against the doorway of Lu Han’s office, watching with a healthy dose of judgement as the elder scrolls through the website of a nearby flower shop. “You are not trying to online order a ing bouquet for Minseok hyung while I stand here and have a genuine question.”

Lu Han switches tabs in the blink of an eye, spinning around in his office chair to glare at the intruder. “You say one word and I’ll tell Yifan you were the one that spiked the punch at last year’s Christmas party.”

Jongdae’s eyes narrow. “You don’t have the evidence.”

Lu Han crosses his arms and scoffs. “You may be a super genius hacker or whatever but I’m head of the ing CSI team. I have your fingerprints and the matching DNA results somewhere you won’t be able to dig your nosy little paws into. And I know Yifan is still pissed about the aftermath of that event. All you have to do is keep your goddamn mouth shut about what you just saw.”

Jongdae opens his mouth to counter, but decides to acquiesce to the Chinese and nods. “Fine.”

“And Yixing clocked out early, like an hour or two ago.” Lu Han deems Jongdae’s nod to be trustworthy enough to pull the flower shop’s website back up to the screen. “You think Minseok’s the type of guy to like sunflowers*?”

“Literally never ask me something like that ever again or I’ll hurl all over your office desk,” Jongdae threatens, “And wait, what? Yixing clocked out early? That’s not like him.”

Lu Han shrugs. “Said he forgot to do something. He probably left the stove on or something like he did that one time.”

“Yeah well,” Jongdae pauses, as if unsure as to how to phrase his next sentence, “Has… he been acting kind of weird recently?”

“Not really, although I think he was actually the one to recommend me this flower shop.” Lu Han goes back to his flower searching. “Said he passed by it once searching for a new place to order lunch.”

“Hmm,” is Jongdae’s only reply.

What on earth is Yixing hyung doing?

Every now and then when Junmyeon is having a stressful day at work, he finds himself driving to the place where it all began.

He parks his car at a nearby lot, loosening his tie and placing it in the passenger seat on top of his work files. The hourly rate is honestly way overpriced, but it’s the closest to where Junmyeon is trying to go and after a long day of dealing with imbeciles upon imbeciles, he really isn’t in the mood for some extra walking. The air is crisp and cool, not enough to need a jacket but accompanied with a breeze soft enough to tousle his locks just a bit. He should really get that haircut like Kyungsoo told him to get a few days ago.

The wind picks up a little more as he nears the Han river, the sound of a dwindling traffic hour sounding from the streets nearby. He’s walked this path more than enough times to know where to go, his feet moving in autopilot as he reminisces on the first time he met Yixing here. It’s strange how the most chance encounters can change one’s life, he muses. Although he originally approached his beloved with the intention to spill blood, Yixing had been quick to change his mind- and overall goal in life- altogether.

The old bridge is the only place they’ve ever really met in person, and the only place where Junmyeon can think clearly nowadays. He takes solace and pride in the fact that they have their own little place, somewhere none of the others know about really.

To Junmyeon’s surprise, there’s a gift waiting for him, in the exact spot along the structure where Yixing sent him flying over the railing months ago, before then saving his very life. It could simply be a rather odd coincidence, a stranger mourning a suicide victim or a number of other possibilities. But upon further glance, Junmyeon knows it’s for him.

He bends over to pick up the small floral arrangement left on the sidewalk by the railing, a collection of butterfly weeds and yellow carnations*. His lips tug upwards in quiet amusement. Sitting in the center of all the flowers is a quick note scrawled across a crumpled napkin, ones you might find at any fast food chain restaurant: “Futue te ipsum**”.

Junmyeon laughs until tears build up in the corners of his eyes, clutching at his stomach as he leans back against the rusty bridge railing to calm himself down.

“Just you wait, Yixing!” he calls out to no one in particular, staring out into the horizon as the setting sun paints the Han with hues of red and orange, cars rushing past him on the road behind and causing the flowers in his arms to rustle with the artificial breeze. “I’ll win you over on your own terms!”

And then you’ll be mine.

Footnotes:

*Flower meanings: Sunflowers symbolize adoration and loyalty. Yellow carnations symbolize rejection and disdain. Butterfly weeds basically say "leave me".

**Futue te ipsum is basically Latin for "go yourself" lolz

Just another thing to keep in mind while reading this story, each chapter unless mention otherwise or italicized as a flashback is in chronological order. The scenes in each chapter aren't always necessarily in chronological order but rather they all happen in a certain period of time before the next chapter occurs. Hope that makes sense!

Another reminder that Chanyeol and Baekhyun aren't necessarily "together" as in dating/boyfriends but as you can see, they're very close/intimate and... yeah it's complicated. Definitely more development for them and their dynamic to come! If you all are interested in how Junmoney and Yixing met in the past and haven't read the prequel yet, link is here: x 

Any thoughts on Yixing sending those flowers? Remember, the opposite of love isn't necessarily hate, but rather apathy.

All of that aside, if you all enjoyed reading, please subscribe, upvote, and comment!! They all make me v happy and feedback would be much appreciated!

Happy Monday!

Less than three,

PalmerPie