The moment Chen arrives at the studio, everyone knows. Bodyguards stand at every main entrance, if only to intimidate the swarms of paparazzi and fans surrounding the building.

Chanyeol has only met Chen a few times, and never outside of recording sessions. Besides having an incredible voice, he’s extremely funny and down-to-earth. Today is no exception; even though he looks shaken from the crowd outside, Chen greets Chanyeol with a bright smile. “Made it just in time!” he says, “The song sounds great, by the way. Awesome job.”

“Thanks, man. It’ll sound better when you sing it, though.”

At that, Chen laughs. “Oh, you flatter me. By the way, I hear we have to cut it a bit short tonight?”

Chanyeol had nearly forgotten about that. When Kyungsoo got upset with him, Chanyeol had asked Junmyeon for a compromise the very next day. Somehow Junmyeon had re-arranged the schedule so he could still meet Kyungsoo for dinner, but he hasn’t heard from Kyungsoo in three days. “Yeah, something came up. Hope it’s okay with you,” Chanyeol says, but he isn’t sure the date is on anymore.

“It’s fine—I’ll just have to sing it perfectly the first time!” Chen laughs, but abruptly stops, looking over Chanyeol’s shoulder. When Chanyeol glances behind him, everything seems to be normal. “Oh, sorry, it’s nothing,” Chen reassures him, “Now let’s start recording before you have to go.”

A lot of people are involved in the recording process, all lined up at the mixing board as Chen stays in the booth. Chanyeol is more of a supervisor than anything, just to keep track of the mix and make sure everything is recorded in the right tracks. Since Chanyeol doesn’t know much about vocal technique, coaches from Chen’s company are here telling the artist how to sing his lines.

Usually when Chen records, he’s known for being professional and hardworking, only stopping when the vocals are perfect. But today, from the very start of the session, Chanyeol can tell something is off. The singer seems distracted, flustered. It gets to a point where Chen’s manager takes the mic and harshly tells him to take five, to ‘clear his head.’

On the break, Chanyeol barely manages to hide his shock when Baekhyun pops out of nowhere. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty well, I think,” he keeps his voice low so other people don’t think Chanyeol talks to himself, “But seriously, stop scaring me like that.”

Baekhyun laughs, as if surprising Chanyeol is his highest source of amusement. “You big baby. I thought you said he’s a solo artist, though?”

“Chen? Yeah, he is.”

“Then who’s—Oh!” The man’s confusion is replaced by one of realization, and maybe smugness. Chanyeol isn’t good at reading him yet. “Never mind.”

And after the break, Chen gets into it. Emotion pours into his voice, until even his managers are pleased with the result. Chanyeol is always impressed with Chen’s vocals, but today he sounds more heartfelt than usual. Whatever it is that makes the difference, Chen wraps everything up with plenty of time to spare.

He approaches Chanyeol afterward, shakes his hand and says, “Great job, man. See you soon when I record the other songs, right?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol smiles. He doesn’t listen to Chen’s music a lot (it’s hard playing back something he produced without picking it apart), but even so, it’s hard not to get starstruck around the singer. “You sounded really good, so the other songs won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, don’t make me blush!” Chen laughs, and Chanyeol can see Baekhyun’s eyes burning in his periphery. A manager comes over to Chen outside, the artist sending one last wave in Chanyeol’s direction: “Keep producing!”

A few days ago, those words would have sent him into a nervous fit. But stealing a secret glance at Baekhyun, Chanyeol doesn’t think producing will be such a challenge anymore.

Even with ending the recording session half an hour early, Chanyeol still arrives at the restaurant twenty minutes late. It’s a fancy place—probably fancier than they can afford right now—with a name in French that Chanyeol won’t even attempt to pronounce.

From a quick scan, Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to be here. He asks the hostess anyway: “Hello, has anyone come about the reservation for two, under Park Chanyeol?”

The young lady checks her tablet, then gives Chanyeol a disapproving look. “The 6:45 reservation? No one has. Five more minutes, and we would have given the table away. Will you be dining with us tonight?”

So Kyungsoo isn’t here. He’d been so upset with Chanyeol for forgetting their date, and he isn’t even here. Chanyeol had texted him an hour ago, saying he’s on his way, and Kyungsoo isn’t here. Has he really given up on Chanyeol? Is Chanyeol that ty of a boyfriend that Kyungsoo has had enough this time?

“What’s up?” This time when Baekhyun appears, Chanyeol doesn’t jump as much.

“One moment please,” Chanyeol tells the hostess, and steps aside to weigh his options. Finding a corner space where other diners won’t pay attention to him, Chanyeol speaks to Baekhyun in a low voice. “My partner stood me up.”

Baekhyun knits his eyebrows together. “What an move.”

Chanyeol’s first instinct is to defend Kyungsoo; surely he has a good reason for not being here. And Kyungsoo would never do something this petty, would he? But then a small part of Chanyeol’s mind agrees with Baekhyun. Maybe he’s right, and Kyungsoo is acting like a jerk on purpose.

Before Chanyeol can reach a kind of conclusion, Baekhyun says, “You could still eat here. I’m here—I’ll sit with you.”

“Really? You don’t mind if it’s boring?”

“What else would I do?” Baekhyun is already heading back toward the entrance, Chanyeol following him blindly, “Be all lonely in your phone?”

He can’t tell if Baekhyun is pitying him or not. Either way, Chanyeol returns to the hostess: “Sorry about that. I’m Park Chanyeol. Is my reservation still available?”

The hostess is smiling, but it’s a forced expression and she looks annoyed more than anything. Still, she asks Chanyeol to confirm his phone number and within minutes, he’s being seated at a nice table with Baekhyun not far behind him.

It’s a shame, Chanyeol thinks, that Kyungsoo isn’t here to enjoy this experience with him. They don’t often go to places this fancy, even if they can afford it with Chanyeol’s paycheck for larger production jobs. He needs to stop thinking about Kyungsoo.

“Would you like to start off with a drink, sir?” Distracted again, Chanyeol hadn’t noticed the young waitress in front of him, “Some wine, perhaps?”

“Riesling would be great, thank you.” She leaves, and Chanyeol turns his attention to Baekhyun, sitting across from Chanyeol as if he can physically sit. “Sorry about this,” he says, “It’s been a crazy week.”

In the dim overhead lighting, he can hardly remember that Baekhyun isn’t a real man; the warm shadows fall on his face like they would to anyone. “Think about it this way: If your boyfriend did show up, how ty would that be for me? Doing nothing while you’re on a date with someone else? Not fun.”

He speaks like they’re a couple. But then again, the whole purpose of Baekhyun existing is to help him romantically. Chanyeol can’t get too wrapped up in thoughts like this, especially when the waitress arrives with his wine. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be back shortly to take your order,” she smiles politely and walks away.

If she could see Baekhyun, she may have been offended at how he rolled his eyes after her. “She thinks you’re hot. Can’t she see you’re out of her league?”

Chanyeol scoffs. He hasn’t paid attention to how people look at him in years. “Too bad I like men and not women who are too young for me.”

“Let’s not talk about girls, then,” Baekhyun leans into the table, “I’ll change the subject: how long have you been together?”

“Me and Kyungsoo? Five years.”

He looks impressed. “So the seven year itch came early? Why’s that?”

“I mean, that’s how things work, right?” Chanyeol starts speaking without knowing where he’ll end up, “Anyone dating anyone is going to get sick of it eventually. Nothing against Kyungsoo—I really love him, but that’s it, you know? What else is supposed to happen?”

“So you think love is boring?”

Chanyeol has thought exactly that before, but always decides he must be wrong. “It’s... hard. I was barely an adult when we started dating, so I didn’t know what I was getting into.”

“Have you ever separated before?”

This is starting to feel like a counseling session. Chanyeol nods, “We fought once, junior year of college, and Kyungsoo broke up with me. He said I cared more about studying than him. But we made up a month later.” Chanyeol thinks back to that time, where he’d never felt such loneliness before. He was so used to being with Kyungsoo that being without him felt empty. “I don’t know why he wanted to be with me again. But I didn’t want to live my boring life beside anyone else.”

Chanyeol doesn’t want to talk about Kyungsoo anymore. It’s almost painful, reliving their happiest times without knowing why those times stopped happening. Baekhyun seems to pick up on this, because his next question is: “What about you, then? You produce music, but what else?”

He thinks briefly, sips his wine. “Other than that, nothing much. After college, I settled down and haven’t done much for years, besides work.” Everything comes back to work.

“Were you wild in college?” Baekhyun grins, “I could see you as the bad-boy type at some point.”

That almost makes Chanyeol laugh. “No way. I studied abroad in Europe for a semester. That was probably the most interesting part of college. But I was never a crazy partier or anything.” At that point, Chanyeol had already been dating Kyungsoo. Experiencing the dumb-hookups kind of fun never happened. “But as a kid, I was a little rebellious. Skipped school a few times.”

Baekhyun sighs in mock-disappointment. “You’re no fun.”

“I know.” He isn’t the first person to tell Chanyeol that. “What about you?”

He stares Chanyeol down across the table with something complicated in his gaze. “What about me?”

Chanyeol can feel his heart skip a beat. He keeps forgetting, in moments of awe at how perfect this man is, that Baekhyun isn’t a human. The air turns stiff between them, and Chanyeol stays quiet until the waitress comes to take his order. “I’ll have the poulet basquaise, please,” he tries not to butcher the name too much.

“I don’t want anything, thanks for asking,” Baekhyun grins, and before Chanyeol can remember the waitress can’t see Baekhyun, he says, “Oh, shut up.”

“Excuse me?” the waitress blinks.

Chanyeol’s face falls. “Sorry. I wasn’t talking to you.”

The waitress gives him a wary look. “I’ll have your meal out shortly.” But as she leaves, Chanyeol hears her mutter, “Poor man.”

It makes Baekhyun laugh hysterically, all his pretty teeth showing. “That’s one way to get her off your ! She thinks you’re insane.”

“You don’t have to get jealous,” Chanyeol teases him, and decides he’ll do so more often with how bright Baekhyun’s cheeks shine, “She was never on my .”

“Sure. Just like Kyungsoo isn’t an .”

“He isn’t.” Kyungsoo can hurt Chanyeol and make him insane and Chanyeol will still stand up for him. A long silence comes over the table. It reminds Chanyeol of when he first met Kyungsoo; too shy to flirt with each other, too nervous to say anything, so their encounters always included quiet breaks. Chanyeol changes that this time: “Thank you, by the way. For helping me with my project.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Beneath the table, Chanyeol can feel a hollow coolness brush his leg, and he knows it’s Baekhyun. Even through such an eerie sensation, Chanyeol catches some reassurance.

It’s fun. That’s all Chanyeol thinks of throughout dinner, because he hasn’t enjoyed a meal with someone like this in so long. Baekhyun doesn’t even eat, but Chanyeol still thinks “dinner date” is an accurate description. Baekhyun’s personality is refreshing, making Chanyeol laugh and ignore the diners around him.

When they arrive back at Chanyeol’s apartment, he finds that he isn't tired, and doesn’t mind Baekhyun’s company. Both of these are new revelations. “That was fun,” he says.

“I had fun, too,” Baekhyun smiles. “If your boyfriend ever ditches you again, you know who to call.”

“Sure,” It’s said in disappointment; Chanyeol has had such a good time all night, but one thought of Kyungsoo can ruin his mood. He decides he won’t let that happen: “I’m up for a movie, you wanna watch?” Chanyeol is hesitant to ask, but the wine in his system helps.

Baekhyun nods with enthusiasm, heading over to the sofa with no prompting. Chanyeol lets him pick the movie (Baekhyun has never seen movies before, of course, but he tells Chanyeol that pop culture knowledge is programmed in his code).

After that is when the nighttime mood sets in, the surreal visual of the TV with ambient city noise outside. And Baekhyun looks so happy, and Chanyeol wants Baekhyun to be happy. He feels an odd responsibility for Baekhyun, because there’s only one Baekhyun in the world and he’s just for Chanyeol.

Part of him wants to wrap his arm over Baekhyun’s shoulders and tug him close, but that thought is quickly driven away when he remembers he can’t touch Baekhyun. The guilt comes after that: He wants to touch Baekhyun, and be close to Baekhyun. Never in his five-year relationship with Kyungsoo has Chanyeol ever thought about another man, and he feels terrible. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else like this, but Chanyeol can’t stop himself from staring at Baekhyun. The bluish light from the TV never reaches his face. So many environmental nuances tell Chanyeol that Baekhyun shouldn’t be here, but it’s hard to pay attention to the environment anyway when Baekhyun laughs like he does.

As Baekhyun becomes absorbed completely in the onscreen action, Chanyeol dares to stretch back and steal a glance at Baekhyun’s neck. The bar still glows on his fair skin, this time reading a definitive ‘43%’.

Could he really be opening his heart to Baekhyun? The thought seems impossible, but here he is, single-handedly making Baekhyun more ‘human’ with every moment they spend together. Baekhyun is so different from Kyungsoo; he’s fun, and straightforward, and bubbly. He isn’t better than Kyungsoo, or worse—just different.

“What’s up?” Baekhyun glances up at Chanyeol. When they’re so close like this, Chanyeol can see he doesn’t look like a real person at all. His skin is too smooth, and not one hair is out of place.

Chanyeol almost tries to run his hand along Baekhyun’s back in reassurance, before remembering he can’t.

But Chanyeol wasn’t lying when he said he had fun today. It was nice, just talking with someone. Having someone pay attention to him. And when he’s with Baekhyun, Chanyeol doesn’t think about work all the time. The feeling is one Chanyeol loves, but is unfortunately rare for him.

So Chanyeol is stuck in limbo. He knows this is wrong (Baekhyun’s entire existence makes guilt sink into Chanyeol’s stomach) but he likes it. Chanyeol is oddly calm and content, sitting next to Baekhyun in silence. And then Chanyeol comes up with a wonderful idea, the same solution he has to every tough project at work: he’ll wait it out. He’ll wait for some grand life revelation to arrive on what to do about Baekhyun, and until then, Chanyeol will enjoy what he has.

“Have you heard about this?”

Kyungjun sets his phone on the table and pushes it toward Kyungsoo. The screen displays the download page for a bubbly, bright app. “Artificial Love? Yes, everyone has heard of it.” For the past few days, Kyungsoo has been avoiding technology altogether. Turning his phone off, reading instead of watching television—all of this has helped organize his thoughts. So being forced to examine a phone screen makes Kyungsoo uneasy, especially when it’s about something that’s the epitome of cutting-edge.

“So have you downloaded it?” His brother asks expectantly.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “No, and I don’t plan to.”

“Why?”

The answer should be obvious, but Kyungsoo tells him anyway: “Because I’m in a relationship. And call me old-fashioned, but I’m not a huge fan of AI.” To Kyungsoo, everything seems to become more artificial by the day; just last week, one of his co-workers in the science department lost her job to a robotic teacher equipped with AI. He’s in a dying field, but everyone else is, too.

“It’s just human simulation,” Kyungjun says that like it’s normal, “This program is more than AI; it’s basically a whole person created from digital memory. Amazing stuff.” Kyungsoo sees more danger in this kind of program than he does amazement, but Kyungjun has always been the more tech-savvy between them. “I want you to have some company while you’re working through your premature midlife crisis.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, “I’ll be fine, Kyungjun. I’ve been with Chanyeol for so long that I know we’ll get through this rough patch.”

“Then talk to him,” Kyungjun rarely gets this frustrated, “Talk to him or he won’t wait up for you.”

“I already told you, Chanyeol won’t cheat on me. He isn’t stupid.” In fact, Kyungsoo knows Chanyeol wouldn’t stoop this low because they’ve talked about it before. Late last year, he believed Chanyeol was cheating on him with someone named Sehun, who Chanyeol still insists is just a company underling. If anything, that time made Kyungsoo realize he should have more trust in Chanyeol.

But Kyungsoo could say this a million times and his brother would never believe it. “Kyungsoo,” he stands up, presumably to go find his wife. The last thing he says before leaving is, “Talk to him.”

The phone rings at 7:55 P.M., when Chanyeol is cleaning up from dinner and Baekhyun is watching with snarky commentary. “How about you do the dishes, if I’m that bad at it?” Chanyeol half-heartedly flicks some water at him, which passes through Baekhyun and lands on the carpet. “Oh wait, you can’t touch the dishes.”

“For now,” Baekhyun insists, pouting, “You bully. Just wait until I get some flesh and bones, then I’ll really—”

That’s when Chanyeol’s ringtone hits, and he reaches for his phone while flashing a smile at Baekhyun. That smile drops with a glance at the caller ID: Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo never calls him. Not even in their happiest years has he ever called Chanyeol except to give him errands on the way home from work. “Sales call?” Baekhyun asks around a grin.

“No.” Chanyeol’s brain becomes fuzzy and he drowns out Baekhyun’s presence. With a shaky hand, he accepts the call.

There’s no noise from the other end, just a light static. Chanyeol takes a breath. “Hello?”

A long, painful pause stretches across the phone line. And then he hears it: Kyungsoo’s unmistakable soft breathing.

“Kyungsoo?”

Baekhyun stiffens at the name. Chanyeol tries not to look at him. When Kyungsoo doesn’t reply, Chanyeol begins to worry. Is something wrong? Is he in danger? “Kyungsoo? Are you alright?”

Then comes Kyungsoo’s voice, soft and deliberate like everything is with Kyungsoo: “Chanyeol.”

He swallows. “Yes? How are you?”

“I’m fine,” It’s like Kyungsoo answers automatically, then clears his throat. “Have you done the dishes?”

“Yes, I just was when you called.” Chanyeol doesn’t wonder why Kyungsoo asks; he only cares about hearing Kyungsoo’s voice again. “Will you come home soon?”

There’s the silence again. And during the silence, Chanyeol dares to glance at Baekhyun. He’s surprised to find Baekhyun already looking at him, and when their eyes lock, Baekhyun turns his head away. On the other line, Kyungsoo speaks: “I don’t know.” What does that mean? Chanyeol tries to think of every translation, but he’s always been better at loving Kyungsoo’s complicated mind than understanding it. “I got your last text.”

Chanyeol’s mind is moving in slow motion. It’s like the words are impossible to process. Did Kyungsoo get his other texts, too? His pathetic 3 A.M. voicemails? He wants to say something to Kyungsoo but has no idea what to say.

Kyungsoo continues: “I just read it. Before I called.” There’s a break, then, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” While Kyungsoo was only apologizing for skipping out on their date, Chanyeol’s ‘I’m sorry’ is for everything. For making Kyungsoo want to leave, for not trying hard enough to make him stay. For thinking about someone else. “Please come home, baby.”

The way Baekhyun looks at him is as if he has a heart, and it’s broken.

“I will,” Kyungsoo’s voice is hesitant, “Just give me a bit more time, and I will.”

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t know what Kyungsoo is waiting for. Does he really believe that being alone will miraculously sort everything out? But because Kyungsoo is so different from him, Chanyeol puts his trust in Kyungsoo before his understanding. Hearing Kyungsoo’s next words is almost exhausting: “Bye, Chanyeol.”

He sighs. “Goodbye.”

When Chanyeol looks up again, Baekhyun is gone.

The stacked schedule for all activity at EXO Records is available via a password-protected file online, but Chanyeol has never needed to access the schedule until today. Once he opens the file, it’s easy to see when Yixing is in the building—and amazingly, their hours match up.

Chanyeol waits outside Yixing’s usual studio and opens his Artificial Love app, quick enough so Baekhyun can’t pop out of his phone before Chanyeol’s next action: he navigates the settings menu, and switches Baekhyun’s activity to ‘Away Mode.’ There’s a guilty twinge in his stomach as soon as he presses the button, and winces at the confirmation screen of "Your Love is now away!".

Yixing’s break is running late. The artists usually break at 4, but Yixing doesn’t step out until 4:17. “Oh, Chanyeol!” he greets the producer, “What’s up?”

“Hey.” All Chanyeol does is give him a conflicted look and say, “I need your help.” And Yixing understands.

They meet for coffee after Yixing’s recording session, where the singer is the first to bring it up. “So you downloaded the app, I’m guessing? How do you like it?”

The way he’s leaning against the table in full interest doesn’t match Chanyeol’s own feeling of dread. “It’s...not what I expected.”

“How so? Did you pick a bad match?”

Chanyeol shakes his head. The opposite—he likes Baekhyun more than he should. “I just feel like I’m cheating.”

“But it hasn’t been long, right?” Yixing looks confused, as if he can’t grasp the concept of not liking Artificial Love. “You haven’t done anything yet?”

“He’s still a projection, if that’s what you mean,” Chanyeol glances down into his cappuccino, “We went to dinner together. Watched some movies. And he helps me at work. He’s a musician.”

Yixing perks up in interest, “A musician? What’s he like?”

“A handful,” Chanyeol can’t help the small smile, “He gives me crap about everything I do. But he seems kind of shy? Like he doesn’t want to show interest in me unless I do it first. He’s a great listener, though. And of course, he’s just my type.”

“I bet he’s cute.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol answers without a second thought, only catching himself when it’s too late.

Across the table, Yixing is laughing. “You look like you could talk about him for hours. I don’t see what the problem is with a little bit of puppy love.”

Frustration wells up inside Chanyeol; he’s mad at himself, mad at everything about that dumb app. “That is the problem! What if I end up really liking him? He’s perfect. I already know I’m going to fall for him if nothing changes. What will Kyungsoo think?”

“Chanyeol,” Yixing makes it seem like this is so simple, like this isn’t worth an identity crisis, “I’m not saying to cheat on your boyfriend. That would be unfair to him. But think about what you have here: this technology can make a whole person who’s perfect for you, and you don’t want that? Your DNA is even compatible.”

“What DNA?” Yixing’s personality perfectly teeters on the edge of joking all the time; Chanyeol can never tell when the man is messing with him.

“That’s how you interact with your phone screen, right? By touching it. So the app already has your DNA in its system. That’s why only people who touch your phone screen can see your Artificial Lover.”

What? This is starting to sound crazier by the minute. Things like this make Chanyeol more conscious of the way he handles technology. And he knows Yixing isn’t a software designer or anything close to a technological field, but if he’s correct, then Chanyeol’s phone has just become more precious to him.

Yixing continues: “Some people think it’s ridiculous, but this is the future of dating. And if you like this guy, then be honest with everyone and do what makes you happy.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, “It can’t be that easy. I’m in completely new territory.”

“Alright,” Yixing goes back to sipping his drink and trying to lighten the mood, “But before you make any decisions, just know that Artificial Loves are crazy good in bed.”

Chanyeol can pretend all he wants that Yixing is gross and insane, but a thought gets planted in his mind anyway.

Facing his fears is not a strong suit of Chanyeol’s, but he at least owes it to Baekhyun. After pacing the black-carpet floor of his small studio and with his thumb hovering over the ‘Active Mode’ button, Chanyeol finally up his reservations and reactivates Baekhyun.

He’d expected Baekhyun to be sad, from the disappointment he’d last seen in those eyes, but the outcome is worse: As soon as Baekhyun manifests in front of him for the first time in twenty hours, Chanyeol is met with a loud voice and angry hands that pass right through him. “Park Chanyeol, you dickhead! I was so bored in there. You think it’s okay to shut me off after trying to win your boyfriend back right before my eyes? It’s not ing okay! If you every shut me off again, I’ll probably cry from boredom.”

Each sentence is punctuated by a slap that would probably hurt if Baekhyun had physical presence. And sometime during Baekhyun’s small rant, it hits Chanyeol that he really missed this man. He gets distracted for half a second, glancing back down at his phone screen and subconsciously tapping on the “STATUS” tab. The boldface “61%” flashing onscreen does nothing to calm Chanyeol’s mind. With a heavy heart, he turns his attention back to Baekhyun: “Won’t happen again,” That isn’t something Chanyeol should promise, but he’s oddly intimidated by angry Baekhyun, “I’m a mess lately, if you couldn’t tell.”

“I could tell from a mile away.” At least they’re on the same page. “So I’ll forgive you. You’re lucky you’re my only source of socialization.”

The words shouldn’t make Chanyeol feel so relieved, but they do.

“Thanks, Baekhyun. Now I hate to force you into boredom again,” Chanyeol sits back down and pulls out the other chair so Baekhyun can join him, “but I have a song to finish.”

A grin spreads across Baekhyun’s face, on that has become surprisingly familiar over the past week with him, “Then let’s get to it.”

At the end of a long day of adjusting and mixing and adjusting again, Junmyeon knocks on Chanyeol’s studio door.

“Come in.”

Chanyeol says this with a tight throat, eyes flitting over to the door. He has no idea why Junmyeon would visit him, but that’s definitely his knock. Is it bad news? Next to him, Baekhyun looks like he doesn’t want Junmyeon to enter at all.

When Junmyeon comes in, he doesn’t sound upset. It’s the opposite—there’s a smile on his face, and no sternness in his voice. “Hey, Chanyeol. Just wanted to check in.”

Something about the way he says it makes Chanyeol nervous. But Chanyeol has all his files open anyway, arranged in plain view on one monitor. “Hey. I think I’m getting back into the swing of things,” he answers honestly.

For the next twenty minutes, he and Junmyeon (and Baekhyun, the silent party) go over every audio file, and Chanyeol shows him the finished title track. They haven’t done this since Chanyeol’s last big project with Yixing, but Junmyeon seems to enjoy what he’s done for Chen so far.

“I was worried about you,” Junmyeon tells him, it doesn’t surprise Chanyeol, “I thought you’d lost your touch. And I don’t usually like being wrong, but I’m glad this time. Everything sounds brilliant.”

Chanyeol feels his breathing come a bit easier. Even when Baekhyun wasn’t active on his phone earlier, Chanyeol still felt inspired to work on music. It’s like Baekhyun’s creation alone has sparked something inside him. “Thanks, man.”

“I’m serious,” He doesn’t usually get praise from Junmyeon (mostly nagging reminders to finish things on time), so Chanyeol eats it up while he can, “I don’t know what happened, but you did a complete turn-around. I’m your manager, but you know I care about your life, too. You seem happier.”

The first thought that pops into Chanyeol’s mind is, I am. But he feels sick right after his brain wraps around the concept; is he happier? Is this road better for him? And if so, would he rather be happy and guilty than loyal and miserable?

Like everything else, Chanyeol pushes it away and gets back to work.