His head is spinning. Maybe it's the way the nurse just moved his arm, causing a searing pain to shoot through every nerve on the right side of body, or maybe it's the way his mind is working overtime trying to configure what's happened in the span of the last 48 hours.

The room's walls are far too bare, too clinical, and the smell of disinfectant makes Baekhyun's stomach churn. It's not the only factor playing into his confusion, but the environment of the room is having effects on him that he couldn't have expected. 

He wants to go home, and that's all he's sure of. (He ignores the clench in his stomach when he realizes that when he thinks of home, he pictures only Chanyeol.) 

"Mr. Byun, can you calm down?" the nurse's voice is soothing, but it does nothing to help him hide his agitation, to soothe the anger boiling in his veins. "Your guardians will be coming soon. Just take a deep breath." 

His stomach lurches at the thought of his parents finding him in this state, of having to explain to them that he wants to leave this hospital more than he wants to breathe right now. Somehow even more than that, he's scared to explain that he wants to go back to the tall prince with a goofy smile, to the airy palace that is filled with the smell of flowers and salt water. He wants to see Chanyeol, to feel his warm hands all over him again.

As much as he'd longed for Seoul, he feels apathetic now that he's back, now that there's no one to share it with like he'd so hoped. He'd wanted to show Chanyeol Seoul's busy streets and infinite city lights, but, somewhere along the way, the twinkle in Chanyeol's eyes replaced the lights and Chanyeol's chatter and giggles replacing the busy streets. He'd filled up the ache that Baekhyun had, embodied the city that he loved so much, and become his home without doing anything besides simply being himself. He longs for the attention and touch of the taller, even if he knows that there might be no sincerity dripping from his fingertips. 

Now, it doesn't matter. He doesn't care if Chanyeol wants to hold his hand or take their marriage seriously, doesn't mind if it everything between them is purely physical -- he just wants to wake up in the same room as the taller, hair tussled and soft against their pillows, sun seeping in through sheer curtains. He wants to notice Chanyeol smiling at him when he doesn't think he's looking, wants to walk through painting-lined hallways, wants to see the cottage in the mountains again. 

He wants to go back to Chanyeol. It hurts to think about, so Baekhyun refocuses from the chaos inside his mind to the peace the room is drenched in. He's the only disturbance, voice dry and panicked and asking too many questions. 

"Why am I here? Why did he let them take me here? When can I leave? Why am I here?"

It doesn't take the frantic beeping of the monitor attached to his pointer finger to indicate how fast his heart is racing, how much adrenaline is pumping through his system at the thought of Chanyeol letting them take him away, at the thought of their marriage being canceled so publicly in the mere hours he was passed out. 

"Why did I come here? I shouldn't be in Seoul." 

His last blurry moments of consciousness before he'd fainted were of Chanyeol's concerned face, of sturdy hands reaching for him and wrapping him up in safety even as black stained his vision. In that last moment, Chanyeol was there, and he'd fully believed that he would wake up in their bed, Chanyeol's deep voice whispering the answers to his questions. 

Instead, he feels panic trickling up his throat, and he gasps against it, confusion and fear too stifling to deal with so quickly. 

"Mr. Byun, calm down, please." 

Baekhyun wants to laugh at her trained, serene voice, at her clearly practiced words, but he can't, not when everything is blurry and he can't stop imagining his husband allowing them to fly him home unconscious, letting their marriage end with no words. Instead, he tries his best to slow his breathing down, closing his eyes and leaning against the itchy hospital sheets -- he needs to calm down, needs to get this woman to leave him alone for a minute. 

"Good, good," she smiles and checks his chart. "I'll be back in an hour to give you some more pain reliever and help you be discharged." 

Oh. 

Baekhyun feels like screaming his lungs out at that -- of course, he realizes, he'd only broken parts of his right hand. There was no reason for him to be trapped indefinitely in the hospital, there was no reason for him to lay around weeping when he could leave in as soon as an hour. 

She's gone now, and Baekhyun is scrambling for his phone again, this time dialing his husband's -- could he even call him that anymore? -- number with a fervent nervousness. He's terrified for Chanyeol to pick up, but god, so, so desperate for it to happen. 

His heart sinks lower with each ring that goes unanswered, with each attempt at calling that is seemingly ignored. Chanyeol won't pick up, even after five missed calls, and it sends his mind reeling at the thought of Chanyeol either ignoring him or being forcibly pulled apart from him. Both make him hurt, but they're each a different sort of pain, one acute and stabbing, one a low ache that makes him nauseous. 

He calls once again to no avail, and now his heart is pounding much too fast, blood rushing to his ears in sheer panic and worry for Chanyeol's safety, for the slim chances of seeing him again. It feels like he's been purposefully seperated from the taller, but then doubt creeps in his mind, a bitter voice reminding him of the times that they'd joked about being just friends and how their touches meant nothing, all fun and games and sneaky kisses.

Maybe it had been true -- maybe Chanyeol had never felt anything besides lust, and maybe Baekhyun had accidentally allowed love to cloud his thoughts and convince himself that Chanyeol was feeling the same thing, transmitting the same energy with each kiss and laugh and touch. Perhaps Chanyeol had noticed the spark in the smaller's eyes, had panicked because of the tender way that Baekhyun called his name. The shorter's rose colored glasses would've obstructed this, wouldn't have noticed that Chanyeol had realized his true affections, had pulled away from him completely. To Chanyeol, their marriage and subsequent relationship could've been a complete disaster, a business deal gone awry that he desperately needed to put to rest -- and Baekhyun's outburst was the perfect opportunity. 

He feels like he might vomit, mouth watering, but he closes his eyes immediately, blocking out the thoughts of Chanyeol doing anything like that. He hasn't talked to him yet and, despite the circumstances he's found himself in, he wants to believe that something is wrong with the situation, that there has been a mix up, that this will be resolved and Chanyeol will find him, that he'll finally tell Chanyeol the truth of how the taller makes him feel. 

In an attempt to remain calm as thoughts and fears and hopes overwhelm him, Baekhyun tries to focus on how gently Chanyeol's hands would move to hold his, the way Chanyeol's eyes would crinkle when he told a joke, to the times that they'd found solace in each other's voices late at night, sprawled together in their bed. It's sad, he thinks, that Chanyeol is what he's using to calm himself down, even as their relationship is crumbling in front of the entire world. 

His slow, methodic breathing is broken by the ring of his phone, a gasp slipping out involuntarily as he clambers to answer it as quickly as possible. The number is one he doesn't recognize, but when he thinks about where he is right now and where Chanyeol could possibly be, he decides that answering is more vital than wondering.

"Hello?" Baekhyun's voice is garbled with emotion, and he strains to hear for any noise possible that would indicate the taller's presence on the other line. There's a throat being cleared (it's the voice of a man, Baekhyun notes hopefully, a new rush of emotions hitting him too suddenly to comprehend fully.) 

"Byun Baekhyun?" the voice is not Chanyeol's, but he doesn't end the call, too afraid to extinguish the last ember of hope burning in his tight chest. It may be someone related to Chanyeol, or someone calling on behalf of him, he reasons. 

He won't hang up, but he refuses to answer yes or no, knowing far too well the consequences of random callers guessing his number correctly. As the child of someone leading in their career field, Baekhyun has experienced a lot of scams and potential threats. He hopes it's not either of those, if only because he's too agitated and exhausted to scream back properly. 

"What's the real reason you and Park Chanyeol split? There are rumors of infidelity and abuse spreading around, and I'd like to get the truth," Baekhyun's mind stutters to a stop. "I'm reporter Kim --" 

He hangs up, shaken. Infidelity and abuse -- words that Baekhyun had never even considered associating with Chanyeol, much less accusing him of, replay in his head over and over. He considers them once, twice, still unable to make much coherent sense of where this information is coming from, if there's any information at all. 

He takes to the internet, frantically searching for articles again, astounded at the mere amount that have been posted since he'd last checked -- as far as he knew, their engagement and marriage made little to no news in Korea, at least until now. There's at least twenty that pop up immediately, a common story woven throughout all of them: Baekhyun hadn't been faithful, and Chanyeol had taken it out on him. The sudden break up and hospital stay was the result of Chanyeol's outburst, and now Baekhyun is hiding somewhere in Seoul, too scared to face people after his husband had publicly lashed out at him and ruined both of their reputations. It's absurd, Baekhyun realizes, anger brewing once again in the pit of his stomach.

Baekhyun feels numb reading it. He knows it's not true, yet there's nothing he can do to stop this from spreading besides giving an interview -- something he is positive his father will not let him do. A tell-all interview is the opposite of what's needed. Baekhyun's father, of course, would think that only complete secrecy and allowing the blame to fall to Chanyeol would be the right course of action. 

His hands are shaking, with anger or fear he's not completely sure, and he can hear his deafening pulse once again -- this time he just doesn't care enough to calm himself down, immediately moving to call someone he trusts more than his parents, currently. 

"Yuri? Can you come get me? I'll explain more later."  

-- 

There's a stinging sensation ripping through his throat, and suddenly Baekhyun realizes that he hasn't gotten drunk in a long time, at least not really drunk, not as drunk as he's trying to be right now. The last time he remembers feeling out of control was the night he'd been wholly enchanted by Chanyeol, and, currently, that's his end goal -- feeling free, forgetting everything that had happened since the night the taller invaded his life and mind and heart. 

His plan is foiled, however, when a manicured hand snatches the glass away from him, a stern look of disapproval thrown his way from glittering eyes. 

"Why are you here?"

Yuri's concerned, but, even more than that, she's annoyed. Not with Baekhyun, he knows, but with this situation -- with driving to the hospital to help Baekhyun avoid confrontating his parents, driving the both of them back to a familiar restaurant to talk, and babysitting Baekhyun as he whines for more alcohol and refuses to speak about the situation he's running so desperately from. 

Baekhyun thinks about the question for a moment, and then his throat is closing up because, honestly, he would like to know that as well. 

"I don't know!" Baekhyun feels tears welling up, but he blinks them away, focusing on an abstract painting catty-cornered from their table. "I don't know why I'm here." 

"You shouldn't mix alcohol and medication," Yuri takes a sip of water. "Especially painkillers. Why don't you have some tea? You've always liked chamomile." 

He pouts at her, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Tea doesn't make me forget the last two months of my life. That's my goal today." 

Yuri's eyes harden, and soon she's moving close, too close, direct eye contact overwhelming. Baekhyun shrinks back, suddenly feeling a little bit scrutinized by the older woman. He's positive that she can read something in his eyes, that she knows far too much of the turmoil bubbling inside him right now. 

"You love him?" Yuri's eyebrows quirk up, and the way Baekhyun sputters at the question makes her smile. "Okay, that's settled. So what happened? Why are you in Seoul when your husband is an hour's flight away?" 

Baekhyun hates that she has a point -- he's so close, truly. But it makes his heart ache to think of getting on a plane only to get turned away at the gates, to chase after Chanyeol when he's not even sure if the taller tried to keep him from leaving in the first place. It stains his pride, and, at the moment, Baekhyun is already severely lacking in that department. He can't afford to go out on a limb and reach for Chanyeol, not when he's been forcibly sent away, not when the one he loves hasn't made any effort to find him. 

"Baekhyun, you can't just wallow in self pity. You need to go find him, and you need to get this fixed -- married couples don't just cry and ignore each other." 

"But that's the thing -- we were never really married," Baekhyun's voice is coming out thick, as if he's struggling to breathe and talk at the same time. "It was all just on paper -- we called each other friends, Yuri. They dragged me out of the palace while I was unconscious and he let them." 

"Obviously you didn't feel like you two were just friends, and I don't think he fixated on that word, either," Yuri's tone turns soft. "I saw your engagement pictures. Everyone was buzzing about it -- you both looked so happy and natural. No one here thought you were faking anything, and I still don't." 

The lump in Baekhyun's throat grows larger and soon his eyes are spilling over, an overwhelmingly emotional thought hitting him suddenly -- he'd never seen their engagement pictures finished, never observed the way Chanyeol looked at him, never remembered the chilly wind and their intertwined hands as anything but the day he got his ring. It's painfully obvious now that it really was  a photoshoot, that no matter how real the look in their eyes were, it was all manufactured and produced to be consumed by the public. It's the same now, he thinks, a public breakup to cover up his public breakdown -- from start to finish, everything with Chanyeol was observed, analyzed, and decided upon. 

The one thing that wasn't controlled was the way Chanyeol's smile and voice sent heat rushing through his veins, the way he felt both uncontrollably dizzy and utterly safe when their lips moved together. It was all real, too real, and now it had been ripped apart by those higher than them, the ones who fated them in the first place. All because he'd screamed and cried and hit the people who kidnapped him -- the ones who make his stomach empty itself when they appear in his dreams, the ones who make Chanyeol hold him tighter and whisper sweet things. 

He's scared to sleep alone tonight. It'd been so long since he'd been alone in his room, since anything greeted him besides Chanyeol's messy hair and deep voice. This realization and the subsequent thought of Chanyeol asleep alone in their bed only makes him cry harder, now too weepy to stop himself.  

"I miss him, and I don't know why I'm here," Baekhyun hiccups. "He let them take me!"

Yuri's eyes widen and she moves closer, wrapping a soft hand around Baekhyun's shoulder, pulling him into her shoulder. She smells like champagne and citrus, and it makes Baekhyun feel a little more at home, but then he thinks about the way Chanyeol's eyes glimmer after a glass of champagne, the way that Chanyeol's smile every bone in his body down to nothing. 

"You don't know that. He's a prince -- he can't cry out in public, especially not against a king's orders. Don't think like that. I'm sure you mean more to him than you know." 

The thought of Chanyeol caring and not being able to to tell him hurts more than Chanyeol not caring at all, and suddenly he's shoving his head entirely into Yuri's neck, muffled, wet sobs joining the quiet music flowing through the restaurant. He needs to cry, and so he does, even when Yuri makes him stand up and leads him out of the restaurant, a jacket draped over his shoulders. He's exhausted and in slight pain, the fatigue finally settling over him as he sits in the backseat of Yuri's car. 

"Let's take a breath and calm down. Why don't I call Heechul and Taeyeon? We can go out and dance and not drink," her voice turns serious for a moment, only emphasizing those words. "We can have a fun time, and then you can wear yourself out and get some good sleep tonight. Just take your mind off of things for a minute, okay?" 

Baekhyun nods, a glimmer of hope shining in the back of his mind that he's too scared to divulge with Yuri -- the last time he'd seen Heechul and Taeyeon, he'd met Chanyeol. However stupid it is to think that the taller would suddenly be there, there's a voice telling him to go, to have fun, to see Chanyeol from afar and fall in love with him all over again. 

--

Yuri's definition of dancing and having fun differs vastly from Taeyeon and Heechul's -- while the former specifically emphasized that Baekhyun shouldn't be drinking, the latter two are insistent in getting Baekhyun completely wasted. They're sympathetic to him, but they don't pry and ask questions about Chanyeol and their sudden seperation, instead favoring to hand Baekhyun a shot when Yuri isn't looking. The pair scream along to each song that blares through the building and drag Baekhyun with them, loud voices and rosy cheeks helping him to fake a good time for at least the duration of a song.

It's late now, almost midnight, and Baekhyun tries to revel in the fact that he's not alone in the dark, all-consuming thoughts of his husband invading his dreams. However, he fears that he might feel even more alone in this situation, a drink burning the back of his throat while he scans around dumbly for any hint of Chanyeol. He almost wishes that he'd stayed inside and cried himself to sleep, if only because feeling bad for himself was easier than faking a smile to his friends.

"Baekhyun, I know you're sad," Heechul's syllables sound slurred and sweet, as if honey is dripping off of each word. "But I want you to happy! Here, have another one." 

Though she's in the middle of a conversation with a girl one table over, Yuri's head snaps toward them, anger flaring up, making her glittering jewels and red nails seem almost vicious in this dim lighting. There's a shade of crimson washing over her that strikes fear into Baekhyun's heart -- he knew what her one condition was to going out, and he'd broken it rather willingly. 

"Another one? Have you been sneaking him drinks?" Yuri's holding Baekhyun's face in her hand, eyes searching his unfocused ones. "I thought his cheeks were pink because it was hot. you guys." 

"Yuri, it's okay," Baekhyun's aware of how intoxicated his voice sounds, at how much he sways when he tries to maintain eye contact with her. "I wanted to drink! It makes me feel better! I can forget about things!" 

"Baekhyun, if you can remember that you wanted to forget something, it's not working," she releases his face in disappointment. "That's not healthy -- your hand is still recovering. You shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have brought you." 

 This makes Baekhyun inexplicably angry and, suddenly, he wants to let out every emotion that's piled up inside of him. He just wants to forget the way he felts empty and abandoned, the way that his eyes keep searching the room for curly, black hair and a goofy smile. 

"My hand doesn't even hurt," Baekhyun shakes it to prove his point, ignoring the tiny, sharp pain that follows. "Yuri, I just want to be happy! This makes me happy! I love it here." 

Yuri can sense the lie, and she moves to take the shot away from Heechul's outstretched hand. Baekhyun panics and, in a drunken moment of fear, grabs and downs it immediately before she's able to confiscate it. He feels like a child that misbehaves though he knows he'll get scolded, but he doesn't care, not when there's a void in him that feels a little less empty with alcohol warming his bloodstream. 

"Baekhyun, stop!" Yuri's face is red with anger. "Is this what Chanyeol would want? Would he want you to get plastered and harm yourself more?" 

Baekhyun whimpers at that because it hits too close to him, his upper lip trembling against his own will. He pictures the taller's soft lips turning up in a tiny smile, warm hands stabilizing him.

"Chanyeol would want me to be safe," his voice cracks. "But Chanyeol isn't here. He won't be here. He just won't." 

"Baekhyun, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry."

Looking down at the sticky floor and his own shaky hands, he nods, knowing deep down that he's not truly angry with Yuri. He's scared and defensive, but there's nothing in Yuri's protective words and tone that makes her deserving of an emotional outlash. 

"I know. I'm sorry," Baekhyun feels like he might vomit, or maybe he just needs to sleep -- he can't tell, not with the way his head is spinning. "I shouldn't have drank." 

Taeyeon gasps from across the table, eyes pointedly rereading something on her phone, and Heechul joins her only a few seconds later, face filled with dread. 

"What is it?" Baekhyun leans forward just as the pair leans back, jerking the phone as far away from him as they can, as if there's some hidden secret that only Taeyeon received. 

"Nothing," Taeyeon's voice is forced and panicked. She makes frantic eye contact with Yuri, and now Baekhyun's heart is thrumming against his chest so quickly that he hears it loud and clear in his ears. 

"What is it?" 

By the time he stands and gets to the other side of the table, Taeyeon has stuffed her phone in her bag, avidly avoiding meeting Baekhyun's eyes. There's a new element of fear tinging the air around the table, and Baekhyun is scrambling to find his phone in his pockets, hands trembling and mind reeling. 

It takes him barely a minute to find the article -- it's newly published, and it makes his heart drop to the floor, breathing slowing a dangerous amount. 

Park Chanyeol Moves On? Prince Spotted with Bombshell Beauty Sporting Matching Rings

Though Baekhyun is sure he's never felt an emotional weight as crushing as this, his last amount of breath is extinguished when he zooms in on the picture to see that they are, in fact, wearing matching rings -- and that the band that matches his is missing. 

At this, he stumbles from the table, legs wobbly, and pushes his way through the crowd of people on the edge of the dance floor. He needs to breathe -- air is vital, he realizes, and he's severely lacking in it. He feels as though his entire body is caving in on him, as if the alcohol was too much in his volatile emotional state, as if he'll collapse if he doesn't escape this environment in the next minute. 

"Baek, come back," Yuri's voice is fading, and he can tell that she's trying to follow him through the throng of warm bodies and loud voices. Faintly, he registers Taeyeon and Heechul yelling as well, their voices somewhat familiar even as the buzz of drunken conversation drowns them out. 

He's almost there -- he can tell by the relieving breeze flowing in, by the thinning of the crowd -- and he feels his heart pick up its pace to match his labored breaths. This is too much, he's realized suddenly, and he wants to hear Chanyeol's voice, wants to know the explanation behind the picture that's burned into the back of his mind. 

In a haze of confusion and anger and shock, he bumps into everyone he passes by, mumbling sorry in his slurred tone, hands numb and eyes stinging.

He's only a few feet from the door when he sees him -- dark hair and a tall frame and big hands, wrapped up with a shining smile. He must be dreaming, he's convinced himself, there is no way that Chanyeol is here, not when this news has just dropped. But there's a familiarity in the way his shoulders lean, in the way the man's jaw is framed by the chaotic red light of the club. 

He's booking it to him, heart almost palpitating at this point, eyes completely full of tears. At this point, the man is a blurry figure of red, but he's so close. He leaps forward, lunging to wrap his arms around Chanyeol eagerly, head immediately tucking into his neck, sobs ringing loud through his mind. 

The man freezes, and Baekhyun feels hands tugging at his waist, urging him to look up. He shakes his head, too scared to let him go, to be ripped apart, peppering tiny kisses along his collarbone as he tries to catch his breath. He didn't think he would be able to feel this again, to be wrapped up in the warmth that is Chanyeol and Chanyeol's scent and -- Baekhyun freezes. 

The realization that Chanyeol's hands don't settle on his waist like that, that Chanyeol's scent is more sweet, that this man is pushing him away, hits him all too quickly, too harshly. He's stumbling back, making eye contact with a confused man that is definitely not Chanyeol, mouth gaping open with grief and shock and the urge to scream. Then he's tumbling down, falling harshly on the floor in a heap of his own yells, his arm suddenly throbbing and his ears ringing. 

Disappointment floods his system, and he's crawling back to his feet, a rushed apology spilling out of his lips as he hobbles toward the exit. There's too much happening to breathe fully, to get a sense of what is the logical course of action, but when he looks down at the ring still on his finger, at the way it gleams in the light like Chanyeol's eyes when he giggles, something clicks. He makes up his mind, however hazy it is at the moment, stomach churning, and searches for the next plane ticket out of Seoul.

--

YES. HE'S LEAVING. he's gnna go GET HIS MAN. also.....how are we feeling? do we hate pcy right now? is bbh's drunk little valid? do we all wish that yuri was our bff? tell me your thoughts.

love you all for sticking through with me! thanks my angels! goodnight <3

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