≈You say it one more time.

 That the universe was made

Just to be seen by my eyes.≈

—Saturn, Sleeping At Last

All around him silence echoes. Silence so profound, it seems to swarm in like fog and smoother everything in its wake. The traffic on the street moves on, horns and drivers spitting out rapid fire execrations at people to get out of their way, heels and heavy steps of pedestrians on the pathways, indistinct conversations, subdued late-night hubbub and buzz of the city. And yet. The silence is so heavy, it weighs like a physicality on Chanyeol.

People pass him by, sometimes bumping into him like they expect to walk through him. As though he is invisible. He stands rooted to the spot, anchored by deafening crushing, silence and a void so vast inside him, it bears down on him like the weight of oceans.

The traffic passes in a zoom of colours, reflected street lights and headlights. Sometimes it slows down. Chanyeol’s heartbeat is tied to its pace. Buildings loom like guardians enclosing in on the city. Or gates keeping the secrets of the city barred in. Looming much greater, grander and more resilient than the mere humans that walk the streets below them and their follies.

Even these buildings have greater longevity than I do, Chanyeol thinks bitterly, even they will leave a greater mark than I will.

Chanyeol feels nothing as he stands in the midst of the flurry of life and sound, feeling nothing, hearing nothing. A massive, crushing void.

He finds himself doing this so often lately. And each night, he drags himself back home, slumped and defeated. It’s just that he cannot figure out what this emptiness is. This complete feeling of uselessness. This swamping feeling of monochrome and inadequacy.

At last when the city finally falls quiet, the sun set taking all of the day’s vitality with it, and the silence is true and the streets echo Chanyeol’s emptiness, he moves. Lifelessly, he begins the traipse home.

~

Chanyeol stops and stares. He’s never seen this building before. In all the years he’s walked this street, he’s never seen it or anything like it. And he walks by frequently enough not to miss any construction. In fact, he drove by this route just this morning and there was nothing there but the alley that’s supposed to be there. All the stores have closed but this one is open. The whole front glass and he sees inside, so many candles lit. It takes a while to register what he’s seeing but there’s man sitting at the end of the store.

There’s light all around the man. No, there’s light inside him. He’s alight from the inside, like a lantern, almost translucent. Chanyeol thinks he’s hallucinating. First this building that appeared out of nowhere and now a jack-o-lantern man come to life. However, no matter how much he blinks, the image remains.

There’s a low table in front of the man, and he smiles at Chanyeol warmly, it kindles Chanyeol from the inside. Slowly, like he’s under a spell, Chanyeol pushes the door open and a bell tinkers. He has to bend a bit as he walks in, too tall for the low build of the store. He realizes it’s not a store at all as he takes it in. Nothing seems to be for sale. The walls are covered from top to bottom with minuscule cube shelves. Each cube holds a jar filled with coins. Some are filled to the brim, some half way and some are empty save for a lonesome coin or two. There’s a candle next to each jar and all of them collectively seep intimate, cosy warmth and shadows into the room.

“Hi. Have a seat.” The man tells Chanyeol, gesturing at the cushion on the floor at the other end of the table. Chanyeol finds himself crossing his legs as he lowers himself, back rigid and unsure as what to expect.

“Welcome to Penny for Your Troubles. My name is Baekhyun.” This closer, Chanyeol thinks he must have hallucinated Baekhyun’s radiance because he looks perfectly normal. Perhaps unusually pale skin with shadows casted upon his elegant features from the candlelight and a smile that continues to kindle Chanyeol’s insides but nothing unearthly.

“Chanyeol.” He offers, feeling an easiness that bemuses him.

“Hi Chanyeol.” Baekhyun’s voice is honey and yes, there’s no preternatural glow to him and Chanyeol can’t explain it but he feels so, so warm inside.

“How many coins have you got?”

“Excuse me?” Chanyeol blinks.

“You know, a penny for a trouble. How many troubles do you want to share?”

Chanyeol regards Baekhyun with confusion, trying to gauge whether he is serious or not.

“Are you a therapist?” Chanyeol is trying to understand what this man’s intentions are.

“No,” Baekhyun chuckles, “I’m not. But don’t you have troubles to share, Chanyeol? Don’t you have anything you need to free your soul from?” Baekhyun’s voice is a golden soothing and reason, drawing him in. “Aren’t you tired of bearing it all alone, Chanyeol?”

He feels something in him bend at that those simple words. A pillar cementing him upright crumbling and resulting in the rigidness snapping out of him. He doesn’t know why but he feels his eyes begin to prickle.

“Three.” Chanyeol places the coins on the table between them soundlessly.