This chapter is dedicated to two lovely readers! Rainypixy, for encouraging me to get off of my lazy bum and start writing this chapter with their latest review (thank you, by the way), and NattyMarie for giving me one of the cutest reviews ever! You're both such sweethearts.

Also heads up: this chapter isn't really that funny. Woops. But hey, it's an update! We haven't seen one of those in a while, ay? And it's the longest one yet! If this ain't me showing ya'll the realest love...

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 May 22nd, 2018

Gwangju, South Korea

5:26 PM

Yoochun is lost.

But don’t worry. He’s not lost in the giving Christopher Columbus a run for his money sense (because such a disturbing lack of navigation skills would warrant all types of concern). Really, it’s more of a is this the real life or is this just fantasy type of psychologically-based lost that has Yoochun wanting to curl up in the fetal position while he cries his corneas dry, contemplating the meaning of life and why on Earth it’s so goddamn unfair.

So yeah, nothing too bad.

“You’ve been brooding on this couch for three days,” Yoochun distantly hears Yunho mumble with unease. He comes to sit next to the giant lump of blankets and snotty tissues that has formed a crater on their couch, his hand rising to pat what he guesses is Yoochun’s shoulder (it’s actually his elbow, but Yoochun is too busy stuffing his face with strawberry ice cream to correct him). “Are you okay, little man? Do you need to talk?”

Yoochun at his spoon slowly, eyes staring blankly into the baby blue cotton of his self-made cocoon which shields him from the world.

Those are some loaded questions, he muses humorlessly.

Is he okay? No, not really. He’s sort of missed out on a huge chunk of his life – nearly half a year, gods nearly half a year – and thus has become displaced from everything around him. He’s lost his job and his degree and quite possibly his family within the span of what he thought was just a single day, so it would be the eighth wonder of the world if he actually were to be okay after all of that.

“It’s because time works differently in Xiah,” Changmin had calmly tried to explain while Yoochun had a mental breakdown over having his life completely and utterly destroyed (“just like that window over there, haha,” Jaejoong inappropriately joked). And thanks to that staggering difference in time zones, Yoochun wound up inadvertently being left behind by everyone and everything he’s ever known.

He missed the live-airing finale to that one drama he’s been avidly watching for the past few months (did the main couple even end up together or did one of them spontaneously die from an easily-avoidable freak car accident? Yoochun can easily find out but he’ll never get to experience watching it in real time with the rest of the world, so what’s even the point). He missed the chance to see his favorite mangaka in person while they were on a worldwide book-signing tour (who knows when they’ll ever leave their home in Japan again). He missed all of the new-year award shows, breaking the annual tradition that he’s had since he was a child (and he bets the performances were ing phenomenal this year).

Mister Sooman has probably hired a new college student whose desperation he can take advantage of to his heart’s content. His roommate probably has a nicer, better person to live with and mutually ignore. His professors probably don’t even remember his name, same for the classmates he’s had for the past four years. His brother is probably rejoicing at being an only child, just as he’s always wished to Santa Claus that he could be ever since he was old enough to understand the concept of speech. And his mother...Yoochun doesn’t even want to think about how wondrous her life must be without him around.

Okay sure, he was nothing more than a nuisance to them. Not groundbreaking news. He’s ungrateful and incompetent and not as good as the almighty and perfect Yoohwan and all of that other stuff his mother spews whenever she’s in one of her anti-Yoochun moods. But so what? Yoochun knows everyone hates him, but at least they felt something for him.

With him gone and no longer around to constantly remind them of his obnoxious presence, did they even miss him? Think about him? Did they try looking for him, even if it was just a simple post on SNS asking if anyone had seen him? If Yoochun could go through all of his backed-up text messages, he doesn't doubt most of them would end in a similar fashion: a bitter “fine. Be like that,” and then not a single text following. So did everyone just give up on him? Did they grow bored of worrying about him or find it too tedious?

Did they think life would be...better with him gone?

Oh god, he’s not okay. He doesn’t think he’s ever been okay. He’s lived a mundane life, going through the motions on a day-to-day basis where his only goal was to survive until the weekend. Lather, rinse, repeat. He has no friends, no one to rely on or place his trust in. He lacks anything more than a fragile self-esteem, one that’s always ready to crumble to its roots if someone manages to break through the thin veil of false confidence he keeps in place to protect himself from harm. He knows he’s not the smartest, or the strongest (he can’t even breathe sometimes without wheezing up a storm, goddammit), let alone the most approachable.

He’s just this walking, sentient who everyone dislikes – recently, himself included – and has simply forgotten in his absence. He’s never really had any genuine aspirations, but anything he could’ve done with his life (even if it was just a boring desk job) is impossible now because he couldn’t even graduate college. Dammit, he hadn’t wanted to go to college in the first place but did anyways because it was expected of him. He always did what was expected of him. But he couldn’t even do that right, goddammit! So of-ing-course he isn’t okay. Nothing is okay! , everything is wrong and messed up and gone, and all Yoochun wanted to do was mind his own business and exist. But evidently, he can’t do anything without it all somehow being ruined!

As for if he wants to talk about it...does he want to talk about it? No.

Should he? Perhaps.

He would tell his diary if he had it with him, but that tome of emotions and poetry is locked away in a duct-taped shoebox under his bed back at Toho. He can also call his psychiatrist, but that would require a phone and Yoochun just chucked his only means of communication out of a ing window and into the pool downstairs (upside: there’s a pool downstairs).

So there goes all two of the outlets Yoochun has to share his woes with. The only other options are the freaks who got him into this mess, and there is no way in this dimension that Yoochun is going to spill his heart out to the people who played lead Oscar-winning roles in the grand decimation of his ty life. Not while sober anyways, and after the fiasco that was the whole “That Awkward Flower Incident” (name courtesy of Changmin), Yoochun swore to himself that he would not be getting wasted anytime soon – preferably ever – around these psychopaths.

Can we all just sit down and take a minute to reflect on how wonked up Yoochun’s circumstances are right now? It’s like he’s one of those boring and ordinary comic book characters who magically have everything they’ve ever known go flipped-turned upside down before embarking on a wild seventy-issue long journey with the whacky but lovable friends they find along the way.

But while those characters usually have their lives alter for the better (usually through cool outfit-changes, getting the girl, and becoming a beloved figure for all to look up to for eons to come), Yoochun’s life has just became really ing stupid.

Like, vampires? Really? And wizards and demons? Really? That’s the spectacular plot twist Yoochun gets? That’s what he exchanged his already pathetic life for?

They don’t even do anything cool! They just gossip and yell at one another with the occasional fancy spell or anti-gravity flip in the air. Sure, Junsu is quite pleasant to stare at for an uncomfortable amount of time, but Yoochun barely sees him because he’s too busy running around with Changmin doing only god knows what (“I’m giving him a tour of the planet. Not that it’s any of your business, loser,” the wizard breezily explained before they both disappeared into a cloud of red smoke). And while Yoochun could follow them, he’d much rather stay lying down on this disturbingly comfortable couch, underneath all of the blankets he stole from a closet in the hallway, and eating the ice cream he managed to nab from the freezer while no one was watching.

Because why should he do anything else – anything more? He tried that once, for twenty-one years, and look where that got him: here.

So yes, Park Yoochun has officially given up on living and has decided to just it all and wallow away in a ball of depression because at least doing absolutely nothing presents the welcomed consistency he’s longed for since everything went downhill on January 1st, 2018.

So to answer Yunho’s question…

“No comment,” Yoochun’s voice, gravelly from days of disuse, calls out. He pushes his arm out of his cozy stronghold, blindly waving his emptied tub of artificially-flavored diabetes Yunho’s way. “Can I have more ice cream? Pistachio this time, if you would.”

Yunho heaves a long sigh, but doesn’t go on his usual hour-long spiel about remaining active and silver linings and everything being alright like he’s been doing since Yoochun secluded himself to the living room. Instead, he dutifully takes the hollow tub, giving the back of Yoochun’s hand a comforting pat as he does so.

“You’re going to get a bellyache,” he says softly. “How about I make you some tea? We have chamomile.” Yoochun makes a grunting noise that Yunho pretends is one of agreement. “Great. Be back in a jiffy, little man.” And then there’s the sound of his bunny slippers shuffling out of the room.

Yoochun exhales, bringing his arm back into the stuffiness of his man-sized bundle. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t had chamomile tea in years. His father used to brew it for him and his brother every night before bed, but that was a long time ago. A really long time ago – back when their family was whole and steady and made up his entire world. When Yoochun could safely say he was...happy.

And whomp, now he’s miserable again. Gods, being lost is so ing draining.

When Yoochun stumbles out of the shower a week later, he’s greeted by a pair of ridiculously sinister smiles.

“I haven’t seen you two in a while,” he grumbles petulantly because Changmin and Junsu have been missing in action for far too long, and Yoochun feels insulted that the men keeping him captive aren’t giving him their undivided attention.

On most days, he feels more like a spectator than a prisoner; he simply watches the four monsters do their daily activities from his place on the couch at the center of it all. And frankly, it gets boring. One would think a quartet of supernatural beings that aren’t even supposed to be real would live more excitingly. But nope! They’re all like a household of Sims who do the same routine every single day. There’s not a of entertainment. No drama, no illicit affairs (Yunho and Jaejoong don’t count because they’re more like a mushy couple permanently stuck in their honeymoon-phase than anything really steamy), and not a drop of tea being spilled on anyone.

Yoochun has more fun hanging out with his own self-deprecating thoughts and memories of his dreadful childhood, if anyone needs an idea on just how lame these supposed legendary and mythical creatures are in real life.

At seven o’clock, Jaejoong takes Changmin to school. From what Yoochun has gathered, Changmin goes to some elite wizarding academy run by a lady named Boa who Jaejoong hates for some reason. Yoochun doesn’t know the woman personally, but knowing Jaejoong, it’s probably all some onesided dislike that stems from the vampire’s own pettiness. Changmin and Yunho’s constant defending of her against Jaejoong’s merciless insults (“ugly lopsided , thinking she’s better than me just because she educates our youth and assists in cultivating the future of our nation. At least I have a boyfriend!”) only seems to further support that idea. Yoochun wouldn’t put anything of the sort past someone like Jaejoong.

During this time, Yunho stays behind to clean up their home, wishing them both safe travels and whatever saccharine things parents say to their loved ones whenever they’re going somewhere. With the two loudmouths gone, Yunho doesn’t do much besides some dusting and mopping because Jaejoong does everything else. Sometimes he’ll play video games next to Yoochun and try to cajole him (unsuccessfully) into playing. Other times (most times), he’ll randomly start breakdancing in the corner of the room to the soundtrack of old Disney movies. Yoochun has a love-hate relationship with times like that because he has to pretend not to be interested in Yunho’s sharp moves even though said moves are surprisingly good.

It’s like his own personal concert. For free. Which is why he always has to stop himself from applauding and fangirling whenever Yunho ends his little routine with a tired smile and a literal pat on the back.

But that all ends at around ten o’clock when Yunho finally leaves to go do his own errands (of which Yoochun is nosy enough to wonder about but not nosy enough to ask). Junsu is rarely around, but somehow the four of them come back together, usually laughing or arguing or both, at around six o’clock. Yoochun spends the time in between either slurping up another spoon of ice cream, lying still and thinking about all of the worst things imaginable (like how he’s going to pay off his student loans – oh my god), or succumbing to a fitful and nightmare-filled sleep that hardly lasts more than fifteen minutes.

When they’re back, Yunho will check on him, ask how his day has been, and moodily walk away when Yoochun doesn’t answer. Jaejoong will peek his head in next, glare at him with those freaky blue eyes of his, and then mumble something about moochers under his breath (though purposely loud enough for Yoochun to hear). Junsu will sometimes scurry in and gawk at him, and after a few creepy minutes, will nod in satisfaction and walk away (Yoochun never questions these moments; he’s just happy to be noticed by his demonic senpai). Unlike everyone else, Changmin doesn’t go into the living room at all, but Yoochun doubts it’s because of him. The teenager seems like the type to barge into his room and never come out until dinner is ready, which is exactly what he does. Everyday without fail. Because, keyword, he’s a teenager.

Eight o’clock is when Yunho returns to ask Yoochun if he wants to eat with them. “Jaejoong made really yummy food for dinner today,” he always attempts to persuade, but Yoochun is perfectly fine with eating sugary snacks until he keels over. And while Yunho is fully aware of this, he’s hella stubborn and invites Yoochun to the next room over to dine with them anyways like the persistent bastard he is. When Yoochun finally answers him with the expected nah, Yunho lets out a frustrated huff and places a steaming cup of chamomile tea in front of him.

“No bellyaches for the little man.”

“Yeah yeah,” Yoochun will say as he takes one long and calming sip, smothering the giddiness that makes his heart flutter in his chest. He doesn’t want to admit it, but while he wants to hate him desperately, Yunho is endearing as all hell. No wonder Jaejoong loves him so much, the man is like a giant teddy bear who physically cannot be anything but adored. Yoochun has never been “babied” (or so the jealous vampire calls it) before, and Yunho makes it so goddamn hard to look past his coddling and see him for the evil beast that he most certainly is. It’s annoying and distracting and sweet and precious and if Junsu weren’t around, Yunho would be the apple of Yoochun’s eye.

Speaking of...

“Junsu and I have been planning something,” Changmin speaks for the both of them, throwing an arm around the demon prince’s shoulder. “We have a surprise for you.”

Thrumming under the weight of Changmin’s arm, Junsu looks just about ready to burst at the seams. “Yes! A surprise for Forehead!” he squeals with an excited clap of his hands.

Yoochun’s eyebrow twitches.

One development he had actually been thrilled about (both internally and externally – a certified feat considering how lethargic he’s been recently) was Junsu’s improvement in the Actual Human Language department. Supposedly, while on their little worldwide journies, Changmin has been teaching Junsu how to not speak that horrid demon talk by forcing him to watch an endless marathon of Korean dramas and variety shows. A weird method of teaching, but obviously one that works because Junsu can say completely understandable sentences better than anyone else who’s only been learning a language for less than a week.

Yunho says the rapid efficiency is a demon thing. Yoochun just thinks it’s a Junsu thing because Junsu is amazing like that. Oof, he loves an educated king.

But the hype of finally being able to comprehend what the demon says was shamefully short-lived, for one day Junsu had wandered over to Yoochun’s spot on the couch, a bounce in his step, and then with all of the happiness in the world, pointed to Yoochun and shouted, “hello to my friend Forehead!”

Changmin and Jaejoong, who were watching the exchange from the open doorway leading to the kitchen, had cracked up instantly.

They high-fived, basking in Yoochun’s horrified expression and Junsu’s proud smirk. Yunho had been off to the side, trying too hard to smother his laughter, and he admonished Changmin for tainting their poor Junsu through his own chuckles and smiles.

“Minnie, that isn’t nice!” Insert a weakly suppressed heehee haha here. “Apologize to the little man at once and tell Junsu his real name!”

Changmin’s laughter stopped then and he sniffed. “But I don’t know his real name.”

Yunho blinked and turned to Jaejoong expectantly. Similarly, Jaejoong shrugged in response.

“I don’t know either, nor do I wish to know. He’s just the Human to me.”

Yunho seemed miffed at that, though moreso at himself because duh, they never even asked for their new friend’s name. Literally the first thing people do when they greet someone they’ve never met and they all but skipped that part. Classy.

But said new friend was too busy mourning Junsu’s disturbing nickname for him to be too bothered by the fact that the people he’s been around twenty-four seven for days didn’t even know the beautiful name he was given at birth. Junsu had called him Forehead. Of all the ing degrading names in the world, it was one that attacked the reasonably-sized (no matter what anyways says) space above his eyes and beneath his hairline.

Goddamn haters, they are. Whenever he’s ready to move his body more than three inches, Yoochun is going to claw Changmin’s tonsils out. Not just because he introduced Junsu to Yoochun with the wrongest of the wrong names (his forehead isn’t even that prominent, like damn) but because it ing stuck after that day. Now that’s all Junsu addresses him as! Anytime someone tries to correct him (usually Yunho since only Yunho cares), Junsu just tilts his head in confusion, looks at Yoochun, and then says for all ears to hear: “Forehead?” And Yoochun thinks screw it, if Junsu wants his name to be Forehead, he’ll legally change it to Forehead. Pride and dignity be damned.

But he digresses.

“I hate dumb surprises,” Yoochun grunts automatically. He wraps his (stolen) bathrobe tighter around his waist and struts out of the bathroom with Changmin and Junsu in tow. So much for a relaxing, lemon-scented, hot and steamy shower to lessen his nerves. Now he’s being tailgated by a wizard and his apparent partner-in-crime. Yoochun can’t wait to see how this one turns out.

Changmin walks a bit faster so he can leap in front of Yoochun, stopping him in his trek back to the couch that calls for him. “Halt!” He places a hand on Yoochun’s chest. “You don’t even know what the surprise is. You can’t judge it yet!”

“Indeed!” Junsu chirps, and Yoochun’s cheek redden because he’s sure Changmin just felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of Junsu’s melodic voice. The way Changmin lifts an eyebrow doesn’t help him feel much better. “Chwang and Junsu planned a splendid surprise for Forehead! It is quite magnificent! Come take a gander!”

(Did he mention that saeguks were the genre of choice for these dramas Changmin filled Junsu's head with? Because they were).

Yoochun prepares to shove past them and pretend they never even breathed the same air as him, but then Junsu goes and makes the widest puppy eyes Yoochun has ever seen and it sends all of his refusals to the wind.

No? Yoochun doesn’t know the meaning of the word anymore.

He pushes Changmin away from him (“ouch?” the boy grumbles) and he takes Junsu by the hands. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it. Especially if it’s from you, Junsu.”

Changmin sputters angrily, “hey, this is my surprise too!” but he’s Changmin – not Junsu – so Yoochun pays him zero bucks worth of attention and instead focuses solely on the golden eyes peering up at him in a please stop touching me you oily man take me I’m yours way.

“Oh my god, you disgust me,” Changmin can be heard beneath the booming romantic orchestra playing in Yoochun’s head.

“Follow Junsu!” the demon chimes, and both him and Changmin begin to tug Yoochun in the opposite direction of the living room (his home, his safe haven, nooo). Though by “tugging,” in Changmin’s case, it’s more like dragging his goddamn arm out of its socket, but Yoochun figures it’s just the excitement getting to him so he lets it slide.

After a moment, they stop before a closed mahogany door and turn to him eagerly.

“Wow, you got me a door? Thank you, I’ll cherish it forever. Can I go back to my couch now?"

Changmin looks unimpressed. “Open it, you dolt.”

“Yes, yes! Advance into the chamber, Forehead!”

Yoochun cringes at the name for the umpeenth time since he first started calling him that. He exhales tiredly, already wanting this to be over. But he swallows his distaste (do it for Junsu, he thinks in encouragement) and wraps his hand around the golden knob. He twists it slowly, ignoring Changmin’s demand for him to hurry the up, and pushes the door open with a light push.

Inside is a room.

A bedroom.

A bedroom with a very red col