[title track: one of these nights - key ft crush & and then there was no left - dreamcatcher]

7.

Baekhyun’s apartment is huge—the living room alone is bigger than a third of her own home—and he lives on the top floor of a very tall building in Gangnam. The sheer difference between the location of his apartment versus the location of his gang’s headquarters is astounding. She was expecting something similar.

She can’t help it when she mutters, “Business must be booming, huh?”

Baekhyun tosses his keys on the coffee table, spinning on his socked feet to eye her for a moment, while she fumbles with her shoes, bracing herself on the wall so she doesn’t fall flat on her face. She’s too drunk and too occupied by her surroundings to truly focus on her shoes. She meets his gaze, raising a brow to accompany her question.

Baekhyun snorts, “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

She tears his eyes off him to eye the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, failing to hide her awe at the sight. The city lights are dazzling from up here, like a sea of stars, and Sunhee can almost understand why Baekhyun acts like he’s hot —he looks down on this city daily as if he is God himself.

There’s another pause before Baekhyun adds, “It helps, though, that we rent out this building, legally. I pretty much pay rent to myself.”

“Oh.” Sunhee blinks, finally tossing her shoes aside, the wooden floors cold even against her socked feet. She’s still not walking in an entirely straight line. “Legally?”

“Legally.” Baekhyun nods. He watches as she makes her way towards the soft leather couches. There’s a small smile on his lips as he says the word. She feels inclined to believe him, but the mischief there still leaves her a tad unsure.

She plops down onto the couch. Baekhyun tucks his feet underneath him and she blinks at him, watching as he scrolls through his phone with a very focused expression.

He doesn’t wait for her to ask, instead he waves his hands, without once looking up from his phone, and says, “I’m ordering food. Do you like chicken?”

She nods, too enthusiastically, tipping forward a little when the whole world seems to tilt sideway, spinning. She presses her face into the cool leather seats. Baekhyun looks up, a small smile blooming over his lips. There’s something so sweet about him, right then, something kind, someone, she realizes, that she can maybe trust. He reaches out and taps her head.

She blinks, realizes she was staring intensely, her cheeks heating up, and Baekhyun lets out a loud, bellowing laugh, leaning back to place his phone on the table next to the couch, before he rests his back against the armrest, one of his legs untucked and stretched out towards the floor while the other one is still tucked, his knee near her head.

When Sunhee drinks, the filter between her brain and disappears completely. It doesn’t help that she gets sleepy, as well. She can feel her eyes drooping while moves on its own accord, her cheeks still warm—probably from the alcohol and nothing else. Baekhyun’s face, on the other hand, swims in her vision.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

Her limbs feel heavy as she attempts to sit up, only to fall further into the soft leather couch, her shoulder hitting his knee. She lets out a small squeak, to which he chuckles, rolling his eyes while he watches her flail. He doesn’t move his leg, though, allowing her to use his leg as a stabilizer to sit up a bit more. She wraps an elbow around his knee, leaning heavily on it. He just watches her with utmost amusement—her cheeks redden because she is, no doubt, embarrassing herself.

He says, “For what?”

She rests her chin on his bony knee—he scowls, shaking his knee lightly while he mutters, bony knee? get off it then and she giggles because whoops she must have said that thought out loud, though she doesn’t move—and she shrugs, “I don’t know…I guess for being nice to me?”

His smile is boyish, teasing, when he responds, “Didn’t expect a gang member to be nice to you?”

“Honestly, no.”

It’s quiet for a moment and Sunhee worries that she’s offended him. But then, Baekhyun says, “I get that. Though, I didn’t think I was that nice.”

“You didn’t have to help me out of that bar.”

“The bartender called me.”

“S—So?” She suppresses a yawn, “Could have just ignored it.”

“That’s a move.”

“You kill people. What’s a small social faux pas compared to that?”

Baekhyun sighs, wiggling his knee, his brows furrowed together. Sunhee blinks, leaning back a little, head against the back of the soft leather couch, her fingers on Baekhyun’s calf. Baekhyun wrinkles his nose at her, “That’s different.” He tilts his head, hair falling into his twinkling, too-analytical eyes, “I know it’s hard to believe, but that is all a job. Outside of that job, I like to think I’m a pretty decent human being.”

Sunhee nods, slowly, “You can still be a pretty decent human being and make ty decisions.”

This time, Baekhyun purses his lips, his smile faltering just a tad. This time, she’s really worried she’s said the wrong thing and he’ll tell her to leave. She expects him to say something, but then he murmurs, “You’re a lot smarter than you look, huh?”

She scowls, “Excuse me?”

He laughs, just as his phone beeps, alerting them that the food is here. He pulls away from her, still laughing even as he opens the door for the deliveryman.

After he sets up the chicken on the dining room table, he settles into the chair across from her, opening a water bottle for her before he slides it across to her. “You can stay the night, if you want.”

She looks up from her chicken. “I—really?”

“You seemed pretty adamant about not going home.”

She blinks, her stomach churning a bit as she remembers exactly why she ended up in this predicament in the first place. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s the nice thing to do.” His tone is light, teasing.

She makes a face at him. He grins as he tears at the chicken, sloppy and manner-less, exaggerated enough to make her grimace.

Later, after they’ve devoured all the chicken, after he’s asked her the most mundane questions to fill the silence—questions about her favorite color and foods, her favorite books, her most expensive thing she’s ever bought—he leans back on his dining chair and regards her for a moment.

He says, “I’m not giving up my bed, though, so you get the couch.”

There’s still that smile on his face, the lightness in his tone, the kindness she has never expected from him, that reminds her of the boy next door types she sees in dramas and movies. There’s something so very human about him and it boggles her mind; it’d be so much easier if he were just an , just so she wouldn’t have to question her views on morality.

She blurts out, “Why are you so nice to me?”

He looks confused, “That was nice?”

She waves her hands, “You know what I mean.”

He pauses, seems to contemplate his next words thoroughly. She waits, anticipates his next words with rapt attention.

Then—

“You’re a bit pitiful.” He purses his pink lips, tapping his chin as he nods firmly, “Like a lost puppy caught in the rain.”

Sunhee blinks, once, twice, before she full-on glares. “I was being serious!”

“And, so am I!” Baekhyun crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back until he’s balancing his chair on the back two legs, his expression the definition of nonchalance. There’s a seriousness in his eyes, then, despite his posture, that makes her protests die down. He says, “I think you deserve better friends.”

She blinks, her chest tightening slightly at his words, though she isn’t sure why. She chalks it up to reacting to what she should perceive as an insult. “If you’re talking about Seulgi, none of this is her fault. I’m the one who can’t keep my feelings—you know what, never mind.”

Baekhyun just shrugs, says, “I’m just saying.”

Sunhee can’t help it at all when she blurts, “Are you implying that you could be that friend?”

Baekhyun meets her gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. Sunhee can’t contain her own smile.

“That depends.” Baekhyun says, “Can you handle being friends with a gang member?”

Sober Sunhee would have refused, just because it goes against all her rigid ideas of morality she’s followed since she was a child. But, Drunk Sunhee is the essence of chaos. Drunk Sunhee just giggles and says, “I think I can.”

Baekhyun’s smile is the sweetest thing she’s seen in a while. He laughs, “Let’s see how this goes, then.”

(Maybe, this time, Drunk Sunhee is on to something. Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if they were friends.)

~.~.~.~.~

She wakes up to a headache and the smell of something deliciously greasy. Her stomach growls loudly in response, even as she blinks at her surroundings, jolting upright, eyes wide in horror, at the fact that she doesn’t recognize the bedroom she’s lying in. Her head spins, but she stumbles out the bed, nearly tripping over her own two feet, and drags herself out the room, blinking rapidly at the sounds drifting up from down the hall. There’s the sound of oil sizzling and soft humming, the sound so gentle and musical that it leaves her momentarily stunned.

Her fingers curl against the door hinge before she slowly makes her way down the hall, stomach rumbling at the smell of eggs. Thankfully, she isn’t nauseous, but is dry, and she needs a glass or six of water before she passes out.

She pauses at the threshold to the kitchen, blinking rapidly at the sight of Baekhyun stirring food in a pan over the stove. He’s leaning to the side, focused entirely on his phone and occasionally scrolling up before he turns back to pan and adds an ingredient. Clearly, he’s following a recipe. She thinks, for a short moment, that he looks sort of mesmerizing like this. His hair is a mess and his clothes—pajamas clearly—are a little too big on him and he has an apron tied around his waist, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up. She finds she is staring at him.

But, only for a moment. Because then he glances over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking up into an amused, smug grin. He says, “Like what you see?”

“No.” She retorts, rolling her eyes as she steps past the threshold of the kitchen, plopping down on one of the island chairs, waiting expectantly.

Baekhyun eyes her for a moment, his gaze a little too scrutinizing, too heavy, before he waves his wooden stirring stick at the food in front of him, “All this,” He says, “Is for me.”

She groans, dropping her head onto the counter and flailing in place.

Baekhyun snorts at her.

Fortunately, he seems to take pity on her and pulls out two plates, splitting up the food. She grins. He says, “You’re lucky I’m a nice host.”

“Uh-huh.” She mumbles around a mouthful of food, ignoring the way Baekhyun watches her eat and his emphasis on the word nice. Halfway through her first bite, she wrinkles her nose at the taste, because she may be hungover, but she hasn’t lost her taste buds.

And, Baekhyun’s food is not good. In fact, it’s horrible.

It takes all her willpower to keep from grimacing at the taste. Still, she can’t help the eye twitch.

Baekhyun stares her down, “So, what do you think? A friend sent me instructions.”

Usually, she’d be straightforward with her friends. She doesn’t entirely believe in sugarcoating things. But, for some odd reason, one possibly related to the way Baekhyun’s eyes are lit up with expectancy or how intently he’s looking at her or the tiny smile on his face, she stumbles through a very diplomatic answer, geared completely towards not hurting his feelings, “It’s…great.”

Baekhyun raises a brow.

She nods through a smile she tries her best to keep alive.

Baekhyun laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs and he says, “You’re cute.”

She blinks, “What?”

Baekhyun settles his elbows on the counter and leans forward, his dark eyes twinkling as he stage-whispers, “I just didn’t think you’d be the type to try and spare anyone’s feelings. Especially not mine.”

“Are you calling me mean?” She narrows her eyes, pointing her fork at him in what she hopes is menacing.

He doesn’t even spare the fork a glance when he leans back on his chair and nods, “Oh, hell yeah.”

“I am a nice person!”

“Oh, are you?”

She opens to retort when suddenly Baekhyun’s phone buzzes on the counter, a loud sharp sound that cuts through the kitchen.

Baekhyun glances down at his phone and she thinks he’ll ignore it for a second. He looks away from it just as quickly before he does a doubletake, fingers curling around his phone as he slides it in front of him, squinting at the screen. She sees his phone light up—a phone call.

He presses the phone to his ear, brows furrowed and a strange look passing through his eyes—one that’s filled with what she thinks might be trepidation and, interestingly enough, concern.

“Hey, what did that text me—”

She can’t hear the voice of the person on the other end of the line, but what they’re saying causes Baekhyun’s expression to grow stormy, his mouth pressing into a thin line and his jaw clenching, his eyes filling with a growing fire that, frankly, unnerves her.

The silence stretches on and on until Baekhyun suddenly says, “What? No. Don’t come—” There’s banging at the front door, loud and jarring. It digs up her lingering headache. She jumps nearly a foot in the air at the sudden sound, blinking rapidly. Baekhyun sighs, long winded, exhausted, and snaps into his phone, “What don’t you understand about asking first? No, go away. No. No. Bye!”

Sunhee blinks rapidly at the way Baekhyun tosses his phone onto the table, brows furrowed. The silence only lasts a second before the banging returns, louder this time.

There’s the sound of the doorbell rattling, of more banging, and frankly, Sunhee is worried. She locks eyes with Baekhyun, gesturing slowly at the door, “Is that…is everything good?”

“Yeah, ignore her. She’ll go away eventually.” Baekhyun waves a hand, dismissive, though there is still a lingering anger, a darkness, there that leaves her feeling a bit subdued, a bit out of place, a bit more grounded in reality, hammering in the established knowledge that Baekhyun isn’t a boy next door type at all—he’s a gang member. She shouldn’t leave her guard down around him just because he is nice to her. She should learn to remind herself of that better.

As if on cue, the front door suddenly slams open. Baekhyun swivels on his heels instantly, wooden spoon in his hands, scowl prominent. There’s a flurry of movement Sunhee doesn’t catch and the front door is slammed shut, so loudly that Sunhee yelps in shock. Baekhyun groans, throwing his hands in the air, wooden spoon flying and hitting the kitchen counter with a loud clatter. Sunhee’s neck hurts with how fast she swivels to stare at the intruder.

A small, incredibly beautiful woman stomps into the apartment, a raging ball of fury decked out in a tiny, slinky dress and a fur coat, both of which look more expensive than all of Sunhee’s belongings combined. She might be a tiny, slender woman but the aura she exudes adds height to her Sunhee cannot explain. It takes Sunhee a moment to notice the way her expression is twisted into something that looks like the fury of a thousand and one suns, the way her heels click loudly against Baekhyun’s hardwood floors as she stomps into the room, the way her mascara is a little smudged under her eyes. She is angry and devastated and Sunhee is more than a little intrigued. Her dark hair falls down her shoulders, a little frizzy—a normal, human flaw that somehow elevates her angelic looks. Her dark eyes are filled with a fire that would make Sunhee recoil.

Somehow, Baekhyun seems immune to it all.

He just crosses his arms over his chest, brow raised, unfazed and clearly annoyed.

She points a perfectly manicured finger inches from Baekhyun’s nose and her voice is low, quivering with anger, but surprisingly soft. “Who said you could hang up on me?”

“How did you get in here?” Baekhyun responds, blinking at her finger before he reaches up and pushes it away. Her angelic face scrunches up in annoyance, but she drops her hand, instead choosing to place her hands on her hips.

The woman tosses a small key at Baekhyun’s chest. Sunhee barely sees it, but, somehow, Baekhyun catches it with incredibly ease, not once taking his eyes off the woman. She says, “You told me where the spare key was, .”

“Yeah. For you to use during emergencies.”

“This is an emergency.”

“Joohy—”

“Irene. It’s ing Irene.”

Sunhee’s eyes are wide as she stares between Baekhyun and the woman—Irene. There is something so feral about Irene, something like a cracked piece of glass, on the verge of shattering. It’s disconcerting, almost sad, to witness. Her fingers are curled into tight, tight fists at her sides, and they are shaking. Despite the controlled way in which she speaks, she is teetering on the edge of something and it is so obvious that it makes Sunhee wary.

Baekhyun gazes at Irene the same way he looks at Sunhee sometimes, with a sort of scrutiny that is too deep. He sees too much.

Baekhyun’s expression softens. His tone is quiet, matching Irene’s. Placating, almost careful. “Irene.” He says, pausing as if he’s getting used to the name. This seems to bother Irene, whose glare deepens, her knuckles turning white from how tightly her fingers are curled into fists. “That’s not my jurisdiction anymore, Irene. It never was. I can’t help you.”

“You said you would.” Irene’s voice drops to a barely-there whisper. “You said so.”

“I know.” Baekhyun looks away and that’s when he meets Sunhee’s eyes. He blinks, rapidly, as if he’s just remembered her presence, and then he sighs. He opens his mouth but Irene cuts him off before he can say another word.

“Does she know who the hell you are?” Irene swivels on her heels, stomping closer, until she is merely inches from Sunhee. Sunhee blinks up at Irene, shocked by the proximity, by the wild look in Irene’s eyes, the spite dripping from every ticlk of her expression. Irene’s gaze flickers over Sunhee, a slow scrutiny that leaves Sunhee’s face burning.

Irene tilts her head, “You’re not his usual type, you know that?”

“Irene.” Baekhyun’s voice is a sudden warning.

Irene smiles, a cat-like smile that takes over her whole face, that adds a whole new layer of bitterness to her features. Irene reaches out and taps the underside of Sunhee’s chin with a single manicured finger. Sunhee backs away from the touch but Irene’s finger follows. Her finger is ice cold.

“Do you know what he’s capable of? I don’t think you do, because if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting in his kitchen. Not even that pretty face of his would convince you to stay.”

“I swear to God—”

“I mean. I was just like you a few years ago and now look at me. I’m just a notch above what I used to be. Isn’t that right, Baekhyun? I have authority. I get to manage all the pretty boys and girls. A queen in a house of .” She looks over her shoulder, briefly, as she says, “That’s what they said, right Baekhyun?”

Sunhee winces at the expletive, at the way Irene’s voice curls around the word and spits it back out into the world, spite and bitterness dripping from every single one of her agitated movements. Her grip on Sunhee’s chin is almost painful now, her fingernail digging into the underside of her chin.

“Irene.” Baekhyun’s voice is steady, but softer, gentler, somehow. “I’m not your enemy.” Baekhyun steps a little closer, hovering close to Sunhee’s side. “Neither of us are.”

Irene blinks at that, almost as if she’s been yanked back in place.

Sunhee takes that as an opportunity to scoot back, her chair screeching loudly along the tiled floors. She stares, between their expressions, Irene’s harsh and filled with rage while Baekhyun’s is—she can’t exactly pinpoint the emotion, but perhaps it’s a mixture of pity and guilt.

Baekhyun shakes his head, a tiny movement. Irene stares and stares and Sunhee holds her breath, because it looks as if Irene is a ticking timebomb, ready to burst at any moment.

That stretch of silence is the longest Sunhee’s ever experienced. Her eyes flicker back and forth, watching Baekhyun and Irene stare each other down, until finally, finally, Irene’s tense shoulders droop. Her hands drops from Sunhee’s personal space.

Irene’s entire body seems to collapse inwards as Irene just drags a hand through her hair. She glances at Sunhee, who can’t help but stare, wide-eyed, expectant, and Irene opens to say something, before she clamps it shut and turns away.

Sunhee blinks.

Baekhyun rubs his neck.

Her voice is quiet, so so quiet, it’s almost sad, when Irene says, “Can I stay a while?”

Sunhee can’t see Irene’s expression, but she can see the way Baekhyun closes his eyes for a moment, the way his brows furrow, the way his jaw clenches, even as he nods slowly.

Irene proceeds to toe off her heels and, before anyone can say another word, she spins on her heels and disappears down the hall, opening the door to the first guest bedroom. The fire that had been emanating from her earlier is gone, completely extinguished. She shuts the door behind her quietly.

Sunhee spins, eyes wide, biting back the questions at the tip of her tongue because Baekhyun’s expression is…strange. There is a tension there and Sunhee’s head is spinning with curiosity.

Baekhyun breaks the silence eventually, sighing loudly as he ruffles his hair and slumps into the seat next to the one Sunhee had vacated in fear of Irene hurting her any further.

Sunhee can’t help it when she says, “What was that?”

It’s probably insensitive of her, but she’s tired of secrets and she deserves answers. Irene had come for Sunhee’s throat, after all.

“It’s complicated.” He mutters.

She blinks, once, twice, and she knows she should let it go, but god how many ing times as she heard that already? She’s sick of secrets.

“No.” She shakes her head, “You don’t get to do that, too.”

Baekhyun blinks. For a moment, he looks taken aback. He says, “Do what?”

“Keep secrets.” Sunhee steps forward, hovering over Baekhyun’s slumped form. He doesn’t even look fazed, just eyeing her, his fingers still in his hair. Sunhee wants to shout, but Irene is still here, in the other room, and she doesn’t think it’s a good idea to let her hear anything. So, Sunhee hisses at Baekhyun, jabbing a finger in his direction, “I’m sick of it. You’re not allowed to ing keep things from me when we’re supposed to be working together.”

(We’re supposed to be friends, goes unspoken in the following silence. A part of Sunhee wonders if the frustration bursting out from her isn’t just directed at Irene and Baekhyun, but also pent up from her recent conversations with Seulgi. She hates herself, a little, for not being able to call Seulgi out the way she can with Baekhyun (or even Suho, that one time).)

Baekhyun tilts his head, his eyes flickering from her pointer finger, inches from his nose, to her face. He tilts a chin in the direction Irene disappeared to, “This has nothing to do with you.”

There’s something guarded there, in his eyes.

“Yes, it does.” Sunhee shakes her head, “She made it about me the minute she put her hands on me.” The frustration bubbles now, filling her to the brim, and she can’t stop the words from spilling out, “The moment you—you and your friends stepped into my home that night, you made it about me.”

(Maybe, she’s frustrated because she thought that Baekhyun could be something of a good friend to her. Maybe, she’s frustrated because she was obviously wrong.)

“This is different.” She blinks rapidly when Baekhyun suddenly shoots up from his seat. He’s not super tall, but the way he surges upwards startles Sunhee. She stumbles back, just a step, before she stands her ground, her finger now pressed to the center of Baekhyun’s back. Baekhyun says, “You know it’s different.”

Sunhee does. She knows that it’s really none of her business getting involved in whatever has happened between Irene and Baekhyun. Clearly, Irene had been upset and was using whatever she could to get to Baekhyun—and Sunhee had been the clear choice for Irene to pick on.

Still, Sunhee doesn’t back down, mostly because she’s already committed and she’s not about to back down like some idiot, especially not when all her previous frustration has come to a fruition right here in this moment.

“You still have secrets.”

“Like what?”

“Like the real reason why you’re so set on sabotaging Seulgi and Kai.”

Baekhyun takes a step forward, her pointer finger now digging into his chest as he hovers, frowning down at her, a heavy aura gathering over him. “I told you—”

“I don’t believe it.”

Baekhyun blinks at her interruption, as if no one’s ever done that to him before, especially not during an argument. Sunhee’s head certainly still throbs from her hangover, but she doesn’t care. Her chest is heaving and she does not relent on her glare, trying to maintain the same level of intimidating Baekhyun seems to naturally exude without even trying.

Baekhyun laughs then and this time it isn’t amused. It sends chills down her spine, because it’s annoyed and irritated, completely different. He says, “You’re so black and white about everything. The ing poster child for morality.” He steps forward and Sunhee refuses to stumble back, though now her palm is spread out flat on his chest. “But, where is that energy for Seulgi?”

“She’s not—”

“Maybe, it’s time to take off those rose-colored glasses, Sunhee.” Baekhyun bites out, each syllable cutting through with knife-like precision. “See the red flags for what they ing are.”

Sunhee reels back, then, finally, one step back, and then two, before she steadies herself and glowers at Baekhyun, “It’s not—no. You don’t know anything.”

“I don’t?”

“You don’t.” She shouts it, unable to keep her voice down any longer.

She’s breathing hard, chest heaving, and her voice echoes in the silence of the kitchen. Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes—she can’t help but think about the reason why she had ended up alone in that bar on a Friday night, why her heart felt like it was being cut out a little bit at a time—but she refuses to cry. Instead, she levels Baekhyun with a defiant look.

His expression is taut, stony and cold.

“You don’t.” She repeats, quieter this time.

His jaw clenches and unclenches, his eyes growing distant, as if he is seeing right through.

For a moment, she thinks he is not seeing her at all.

But then he sighs.

“Fine.” He says, slowly. “I don’t know anything.”

He steps back, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“Just stick to the plan, like we discussed.” Baekhyun says, while all she can do is stare at him, at how easily he’s calmed down, how easily he had withdrawn from the argument.

Sunhee starts, “I—”

“I’ll call a taxi for you.”

a/n: I always feel like the pacing for this is super off just because the chapters are so much shorter than what I usually write, rip. Anyways, City Lights did in fact kill me sorry for disappearing for so long! thank you thank you thank youuuuuuu to everyone for commenting your frustrations. I may or may not have planned this fic out with some of the most frustrating characters I've ever written *insert evil laugh here*, so I hope you all like it and can bear with me!! I'm trying new things here kjsdnjasn but constructive criticism would be a big big big help! thank u!!!!!!!

Love you all sooooo much xx