Chapter 4 – Hannam-dong

It was barely 8AM when Chanyeol’s mother decided to wake him, with a hand braced gently against his shoulder, softly shaking it. He’d fallen asleep at his desk the previous night, so caught up in the notes for his musical rework that he hadn’t even managed to take his glasses off before sleep caught him.

“Chanyeol, sweetie, wake up. You can’t sleep like this,” she said. Chanyeol just groaned in response, burrowing his face further into the crook of his elbow where his arm rested on his desk. Smiling softly, Youngmi rubbed her thumb along his hairline, before adding, “weren’t you supposed to head to your friend’s house today?”

Chanyeol’s eyes flew open at that. “Ah! ,” he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. “What time is it?!” he asked, his voice cracking with agitation as he spun around to face his mother. His hands gripped at her arms as he bent to meet her eyes, frantically searching them with his own.

“It’s… just before eight,” she said, though there was a questioning tone to the statement as she stared up at her son, mirroring his wide-eyed expression.

Chanyeol visibly deflated at her words. “Oh,” he said, shrinking away from her, his expression shifting from anxious to annoyed as he adjusted his glasses where they were perched crookedly atop his nose. “Why did you wake me so early?”

His mother gave him a confused look then, quirked an eyebrow before answering, “well, you never said what time you’d be leaving, so I thought I’d wake you early just in ca—“

Her explanation was interrupted by a loud groan from Chanyeol, followed by a low “damn it!”.

Youngmi’s brow furrowed at her son’s frustration. “What’s wrong, honey?” she asked, walking over to place a hand on his back. He just groaned again, before running a hand across his face.

“No, nothing…” he said, his voice muffled slightly behind his palm. “It’s just that I completely forgot to ask my fr—… the guy I’m meeting—what time we should meet up.” It felt awkward calling Baekhyun his “friend”. After all, they’d only known each other for a week. The fact that Chanyeol was even going to the man’s house was already pretty strange.

If he was still going, that is.

“Well,” Youngmi offered, interrupting Chanyeol’s train of thought by sliding her hand down to squeeze his hand. “Why don’t you come downstairs to have breakfast first. I’m sure he won’t be expecting you right this instant.” His mother was still smiling that same reassuring smile, and it made Chanyeol feel bad for taking his frustration out on her. Heaving a sigh, he pulled her into a hug, muttered a soft “sorry”, before heeding her words and following after her into the kitchen.

As Chanyeol picked at the bowl of rice that she’d prepared for him, he couldn’t help but replay his conversation with Baekhyun from the day before in his head. There seemed to be a pattern to his behaviour; an odd habit that Chanyeol had apparently picked up when faced with the other man: over the past week, every time he’d bumped into Baekhyun and wanted to speak to him about something specific, he’d managed to leave out all the vital details in whatever he wanted to say. Yesterday had been no different. Sure, when he’d caught him in the garage, Chanyeol had managed to clinch a deal about the Grease film, but he’d still somehow managed to completely forget to arrange what time to come and fetch it.

As a result, Chanyeol ended up pacing up and down the length of the kitchen, worrying at the inside of his cheek, his rice long forgotten where he held it clamped between his hands.

Just as he came to a halt in front of the rice cooker to empty his untouched breakfast back into it, his sister walked into the room.

“What’re you doing up this early on a Saturday?” she asked him, rubbing at her arms in the morning cold as she peered over his shoulder at the food.

“Oh… mom woke me up,” he said, his tone offhand as his eyes focused on the still-steaming rice in the rice cooker. Behind him, Yoora kept quiet for a moment, the two of them just standing there as they tried to fully wake up.

Eventually, Yoora’s husband walked into the room and she sprung into motion again, huffing before shoving Chanyeol to the side and grabbing his bowl of rice from him to eat herself.

“Chanyeol, you should go take a shower. You smell like old sheet music,” she exclaimed, before sitting down across from her husband at the table and finally digging in. Unfortunately, Chanyeol couldn’t disagree, so he reluctantly complied.

One shower and a change of clothes later, and Chanyeol was ready to leave. He had originally wanted to wear a denim jacket that he felt suited him well, accentuating his shoulders and making them appear broader—but the weather hadn’t warmed up much, so he’d resorted to wearing a pale grey puffer jacket that his mother had bought for him last winter instead. Admittedly, it made him look a bit like a snowman, but it had big enough pockets to fit his wallet, T-Money card and phone securely, so it’d just have to do.

“I’m heading out now,” he called as he walked past the kitchen to the front door, slipped his sneakers on.

“Are you sure you know the way?” came Yoora’s reply, which was followed by their mother heading out into the hallway with a scarf, which she waved in front of Chanyeol until he reluctantly took it from her and wrapped it around his neck. Rolling his eyes, he answered, “of course I do. Hannam-dong is only a half hour subway ride from here,” before pecking his mother on the cheek and heading out the door.

***

Despite his general familiarity with Hannam-dong, Chanyeol was very, very lost.

After heading out of Hangangjin station and crossing over the dual carriageway that split through the centre of the neighbourhood, Chanyeol ended up in a much more residential area than the more commercial shopping streets that he was used to. The place was teeming with narrow roads and half-hidden road signs, which resulted in him walking up and down for almost an hour, slowly losing his grip on his sanity as he tried to find someone, anyone, that he could ask for directions. Unfortunately, there weren’t many people strolling along the streets in that area, so he eventually caved and ended up calling Yoora after walking past the Spanish Embassy for what felt like the tenth time.

Chanyeol didn’t even get the chance to say hello.

“I knew you’d get lost,” Yoora said as soon as she picked up, audibly grinning.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Chanyeol as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I just need you to give me directions right now. You can laugh at me later.”

Obviously picking up on her brother’s frustration, Yoora’s tone shifted to a more gentle one. “Alright—what address did he give you?” she asked.

“Well, it should be somewhere along this road…” Chanyeol said, walking up to the almost invisible road sign where it was hidden behind a patch of ivy growing up an adjacent building’s outer wall. After struggling for a moment to make out the words printed on it, he managed to read the road’s name to her.

“He said his house is Nr. 22,” he added, eyes racking the houses lining the narrow road he was on.

Just as Yoora started giving him suggestions, Chanyeol caught sight of a familiar black Audi driving up a side street further ahead. Eyebrows rising up into his hairline, he cut his sister off.

“H-hang on, I think I just saw him drive past. I’ll try to follow his car,” he said, hanging up and hurrying after the car, but by the time he reached the road it had driven up, it was already gone. There couldn’t possibly be that many side streets in this direction though; Chanyeol would find it in no time.

As it turned out, “no time” meant another half an hour. Eventually, heaving with the effort of trying to keep up, Chanyeol found Baekhyun’s car parked in the driveway of one of the houses on the furthest cul-de-sac lining the winding side street. Apparently black Audis were particularly popular in this neighbourhood, so he only realised it was Baekhyun’s when he noticed the house number mounted on the gate. It was almost completely hidden from view behind a set of recycling bins, and Chanyeol felt a twinge of annoyance in his gut as he finally took note of the small sign after walking past the house twice.

With a drawn-out, breathy sigh, he walked through the wrought iron gate, up to the front door and rang the bell.

It took a while for the door to open. Chanyeol could hear a metallic jangling on the other side, though the sound was suddenly drowned out by a loud thump, followed by a colourful string of expletives. A second later the door was opening and a somewhat flustered-looking Baekhyun was greeting him.

“Hey, maestro. Look at that, right on time—” Baekhyun cut himself off to peer over his shoulder to where a stack of papers was strewn messily across the floor. “Sorry,” he said, before moving out of the way to let Chanyeol in. “I just got back from the gym.”

Chanyeol hummed in response as he followed the man inside the house, slid off his sneakers by the door. Baekhyun was clad in a tight, black, spandex muscle tee that accentuated his form, paired with dark grey shorts that ended just above the knee, leaving his arms and legs on full display. True to the man’s word, Chanyeol noticed a light film of sweat covering his appendages as he motioned for Chanyeol to follow him.

As they exited the entryway and headed down a corridor to the rest of the house, Chanyeol couldn’t help but notice that, despite his height, Baekhyun was broad—broader, relatively speaking, than Chanyeol in fact, with wide shoulders that led the way to well-built shoulder blades that flexed with his movements, before tapering down into a narrow waist, followed by wide hips and oh—now Chanyeol was staring at his .

.

“… I’ll go look for it now. Just give me a second,” Baekhyun was saying, and Chanyeol, blushing furiously, had to will himself to look anywhere but the other man as he followed him into the living room. Gulping audibly, Chanyeol peered around the room as Baekhyun went over to a desk at the other end of the room, began fishing through the drawers.

The room was huge, just like the rest of the house—and was almost the size of Chanyeol’s entire apartment; but empty—there was only the desk, a couch with a coffee table in front of it, and a set of barstools lining the windows along the far wall. There were no boxes around, so Chanyeol couldn’t help his curiosity as he asked, “did you just move here?”

Glancing back at him from his cluttered desk, Baekhyun made an expression halfway between a grin and a grimace, answered, “oh, no… my wife just took most of the furniture with her when she moved out,” before going back to searching for the DVD.

Moved out…? Okay, weird.

“The two of you don’t live together?” Chanyeol said, his voice cautiously neutral as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

“Not anymore, no.”

They fell into silence after that, so Chanyeol went back to looking around. Turning, he peered back out into the hallway he’d come in through. There was a set of stairs leading up to a second floor, as well as a set leading down, probably to a basement.

“It’s a pretty big house,” he said absentmindedly, tilting his head to the side to try and look up at the second floor where it stretched out at the top of the stairs.

Baekhyun had finally found the DVD. He turned back to Chanyeol, flipping the case around to inspect it as he said, “yeah… I bought it when Taeyeon and I were still together. Though she ended up wanting to leave, and I didn’t want to go—so we decided to separate.”

Chanyeol considered his answer for a second before turning around, saying, “Oh, that sounds pretty civil.”

“Well, yes. The separation was pretty civil, I suppose… it was her running off with my best friend afterwards that wasn’t.”

Oh.

Oh wow.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Chanyeol said, at a loss of what else he could say.

Baekhyun smiled at him then, heading over to him to press the DVD into his hands.

“No, no. It’s fine… we actually just finalised our divorce yesterday.” He said, adding a dry laugh and looking away, down at his feet as he continued, “It’s funny—this’ll be the first birthday I’ve gotten to spend as a bachelor in, what, six years?”

Chanyeol didn’t really know how to reply to that. Instead, he asked, “it’s your birthday today?”

Baekhyun ran a hand through his hair, cast his eyes skyward and sighed. Turning back to Chanyeol, he answered, “Monday. I’m turning twenty-eight.”

Chanyeol just stared at Baekhyun, wide-eyed. The man certainly didn’t look his age.

“Really?” was all Chanyeol managed in reply.

Baekhyun simply nodded as he broke away from him and headed into the kitchen, asked, “would you like something to drink? You came all this way just for the damn DVD, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least make you a coffee or something.”

Chanyeol was about to accept his offer when an idea popped into his head, taking him off guard. Stilling for a second, he stared at Baekhyun across the room, gnawed at the inside of his lip before finally asking, “why don’t you let me do it? I could make lunch or something… like as an early birthday present—” and as soon as Chanyeol had said the words, he wished he hadn’t.

Peering up at Baekhyun from where he stood across the room, Chanyeol noticed the visible change in the man’s aura at his words: Baekhyun leant forwards, rested his hands on either side of the sink, a series of emotions playing across his face in such quick succession that Chanyeol couldn’t quite make them out.

Finally, “I don’t have any ingredients in the house,” he admitted, and okay, at least it wasn’t a flat-out rejection.

Moving closer, Chanyeol joined him in the kitchen, placed the DVD on the island countertop, his hand coming to rest just beside the case.

“I mean,” he countered, voice contemplative. “I could always go buy some…?” He offered Baekhyun a small smile, drew his shoulders up into a shrug as he stared at him expectantly.

Baekhyun seemed to make his mind up about something then, his face setting decidedly as he said, “alright. I’ll give you money for it,” and then he was already halfway across the room and heading out into the hallway. He returned a moment later with his wallet, pulled out a ₩50’000 note and offered it to Chanyeol.

“Oh, no!” Chanyeol insisted, waving his hands in protest. “I’ll pay. I-it was my idea, anyway—”

“Just shut up and take it,” Baekhyun said, his usual grin returning to his face. “I rarely cook, so the fact that you even offered to is already too kind.”

Chanyeol couldn’t contend with that. After all, they were treating it as a pre-actual-birthday birthday lunch, and people were supposed to get their way on their birthdays. So, he hesitantly took the outstretched bank note, stuffed it in his pocket.

“Uh, I’ll… be back in a bit, then,” he said as he headed back towards the front door and onto the narrow street outside.

“See you in a few!” came Baekhyun’s reply, his tone much more chipper than before. Chanyeol just shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he headed down the road towards the shops.

***

Upon returning, Chanyeol was half surprised to find the front door unlocked. There’d been no answer when he rang the bell, so he’d been worried for a second that maybe Baekhyun had only been as forthcoming as he was earlier because he wanted Chanyeol to leave as quickly as possible, but then he’d tried the doorknob—more out of curiosity than anything—and found the door to be open. Tentatively, he’d walked inside, only to be greeted by the muffled sound of water running somewhere upstairs.

Ah, Baekhyun had obviously gone to take a shower. With a light snort, Chanyeol toed his shoes off, hung his jacket on a coatrack beside the door and headed into the kitchen. He’d decided to make Buchu-japchae, though he’d had to compromise on some of the ingredients due to the rather exorbitant prices in the fancy grocery store he’d ended up in, resorting to buying some more reasonably-priced chicken instead of pork, and regular portobello mushrooms instead of the recipe’s intended king oyster variety.

Just as he was readying the ingredients to fry, the stream of water upstairs suddenly stopped, reminding him of exactly what was happening. Chanyeol couldn’t help but smile to himself as he searched Baekhyun’s cupboards for a pan. He never in a million years would’ve thought that Baekhyun would’ve invited him to his house, let alone allowed Chanyeol to cook for him. Chanyeol had always loved cooking, so he was actually glad to have been given the opportunity to prepare a meal for someone. It was a more than welcome distraction from his current bout of musical writer’s block.

As he finally found a pan and poured some oil into it, Chanyeol became aware of the sound of footsteps approaching. Peering over his shoulder, he turned just in time to see Baekhyun pulling on a dark, knitted sweater over his head, rendering his still-damp hair a total mess. The sight left a soft blush creeping across Chanyeol’s face, and he hastily turned back to the stove to start placing the ingredients he’d sliced into the pan atop it.

As he got to work arranging the chives amongst the chicken, Baekhyun approached behind him, peered over his shoulder at the sizzling food. “That smells amazing,” he said, humming out a quiet moan to further annunciate his point.

Chanyeol went rigid at the sound, goose-bumps forming along his skin. Baekhyun was standing so close behind him that Chanyeol could feel his body warmth seeping through his clothes, feel the damp of his hair, smell his citrussy shampoo. He his bottom lip between his teeth to stop himself from saying anything he might regret.

“If you need any help, you can just ask me. I’m not sure if I’ll actually be of much use, but you can always try,” Baekhyun offered at last, letting out a soft chuckle. Patting a hand against Chanyeol’s shoulder, the man turned around and headed somewhere across the room.

“There’s a table on the terrace,” he explained. “I’ll just go get a cloth to wipe it down.”

As soon as Baekhyun disappeared into one of the rooms lining the hallway outside, Chanyeol let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to prolong his stay at Baekhyun’s house—in such close proximity to the other man? Heaving a sigh, he peered down at the food where it was glistening in the pan, stirred it. It’d been a long time since Chanyeol had been as… interested in anyone as he was in Baekhyun now—although, perhaps a contributing factor to his infatuation with the man was Baekhyun’s almost incessant flirting, and the fact that very few other people in his life did so. Chanyeol didn’t dwell on the thought for long though, instead pulling his phone out of his pocket and texting his mother that he wouldn’t be eating at home.

Just as Baekhyun returned, cloth in hand, to wipe the table outside, Chanyeol busied himself with finding a set of plates that he could dish up on. Once the food was arranged on them, he rummaged through the drawers for chopsticks, called out “the food’s ready!”

It was a little late to call the meal lunch, though it still felt oddly like it as he balanced the two plates on his arm, picked up the two sets of chopsticks and headed out onto the terrace to set them down. Baekhyun beamed at him as he approached, resulting in Chanyeol almost tripping over his own feet, thumping heavily against the table as he set the plates down rather ungracefully atop it.

“How do you do that?” Baekhyun asked as he seated himself, reaching his leg under the table to push out the opposite chair for Chanyeol.

“D-do what?” Chanyeol asked, still a little flustered as he sat down across from him, grabbed his chopsticks.

“Balance plates on your arm. I thought only waitstaff could do that,” Baekhyun explained as he eyed the food.

Chanyeol let out a surprised laugh at that. “I suppose you have a point. My mother used to run an Italian restaurant, and sometimes I got to help out,” he conceded. He was waiting for Baekhyun to start eating first, eager to gauge the man’s reaction to the meal.

“Ooh, so does that mean you can cook Italian food as well?” Baekhyun asked as he picked up a chunk of chicken, eyed it for a moment before finally placing it in his mouth.

“Wow, this is good,” he exclaimed, and Chanyeol felt a warmth surge through him, smiled his thanks at him before answering, “I suppose so… I just don’t cook it very often anymore.”

Baekhyun peered up at him then, incredulous.

“What a waste!” he said. “I’m sure you’re an amazing cook… if you don’t cook it at home, you should come here and make it for me.” He pointed at the dish in front of him for emphasis, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but laugh at his eagerness.

“You haven’t seen my mother’s cooking yet. This is nothing in comparison,” he said finally, also digging in.

Baekhyun narrowed his eyes at him, a sly grin spreading his lips wide as he said, “wow, already inviting me over? I’m honoured.” Chanyeol let out an embarrassed squawk at his words, hands flying up as he insisted that he hadn’t meant it like that. Baekhyun just laughed though, before going back to eating his pre-actual-birthday birthday lunch.

***

Much later, when there were just leftovers on their plates and the light outside started dimming, and Baekhyun had gotten them two beers from the fridge, they just talked. Chanyeol had been at the man’s house for hours now, as the weather had changed from dry, to drizzling, to a full on downpour. They paid it no heed though, Baekhyun too busy telling stories and Chanyeol too busy listening.

"You know,” Chanyeol said as he grabbed his can off the table, cradled it between his hands. “I don't think that Jongin actually enjoys theatre all that much…" It was a rather abstract thought, but he’d noticed how the boy tried to avoid actual acting roles in exchange for dancing parts, and it had struck him as rather odd behaviour for a theatre student.

"Well, I suppose he isn't really there by choice," Baekhyun mused.

Chanyeol stared at him, puzzled. "How so?" he asked around his can.

"Well," said Baekhyun, his fingers thrumming against the marble table-top. "His parents are a pretty big deal in the thespian community… I suppose they did push him more towards that forte."

Chanyeol sighed. "It's a shame," he said. "He's such a good dancer."

"Yeah!" Baekhyun agreed. "He told me that he'd much rather take on one of the backing dancer roles in the play, but unfortunately, due to our collaboration with the visual arts department, those roles are all occupied by dance students."

"… what about you though?" Chanyeol asked, and the sudden change of subject took Baekhyun by surprise. He turned to face Chanyeol with a confused quirk of his brow. "What do you mean?" he asked, before taking a sip of his beer.

"Did you ever think of pursuing dance? Or did you study it?" Chanyeol amended.

"Who, me?" Baekhyun asked, raising his arm onto his chair's armrest, tilting his head to the side to lean on it. There was a contemplative note in his expression as he continued, "no, never… I attended a ballroom class with my wife once, though it wasn't really by choice," chuckling softly, Baekhyun downed the rest of his drink and reached over to pick at the leftovers from Chanyeol’s cooking. Chanyeol's eyes followed his movements the whole while. He really loved the way Baekhyun moved—he was always so graceful, every movement so deliberate.

"You really think so?" Baekhyun asked, an amused little smile tugging at his lips. Chanyeol hadn't realised that he'd said it out loud.

"Err, well—yes. You really are very poised," he managed in reply, shyly looking away from the other man and instead staring into his drink where he held it between his hands.

Baekhyun didn't reply. Instead, he rose from his seat, moved past Chanyeol towards the kitchen. In passing, he reached up to ruffle Chanyeol's hair, taking the brunette by surprise. Chanyeol let out a little gasp at the sudden contact, though if Baekhyun noticed it, he didn't say anything.

Once he was in the kitchen, Chanyeol heard a cupboard opening, followed by a rustling sound. A moment later, Baekhyun was walking back over with two packets of Haitai-Calbee Honey Butter Chips. He tossed one onto the table in front of Chanyeol, before seating himself back down across from him, opening his own.

Chanyeol stared at the packet of little star-shaped chips for a moment, before finally setting his beer can down on the table beside it.

"You don't need to call her that anymore, you know," he said quietly, unable to stop the words before they'd escaped his mouth.

Looking up from his makeshift dessert, Baekhyun looked at him in puzzlement for a second. "Who?" he asked, absently fishing a chip out of the packet and placing it in his mouth.

"Your wife," Chanyeol said, his voice so low it was barely audible. "You—you don't need to call her your wife anymore."

Looking up, Chanyeol half expected Baekhyun to be mad at him, offended even—

But he wasn't. There was an odd mixture of emotions playing across his face. When his expression finally settled, it was in a solemn sort of smile.

"Sorry," he said, running a hand along the back of his neck. "Force of habit. I guess I’m still not quite used to the thought of finally being completely separated from her."

"But you were separated before, weren't you?" Chanyeol asked as he also grabbed his chips, ripped the packet open to start nibbling at one.

"Yes, but I never really felt free, I suppose. Now I’m at liberty to do whatever I want… it's just weird, after so many years."

Chanyeol just hummed in response. Despite the man’ bad-boy vibe Baekhyun gave off, he had obviously cared very much for his wife.

“So what do you want to do with your newfound freedom?” he asked after a moment’s silence. The sky outside was completely dark now, illuminated only by the city’s light pollution and the stars, and the rain was really coming down.

“I’m not sure,” Baekhyun admitted. “I guess I still have to figure that out.” There was a small smile pulling at his lips, and Chanyeol probably wouldn’t have noticed it if hadn’t become so familiar with his usual smile. Somehow, he found himself grinning along with him, and when their eyes met, they both erupted into soft laughter.

“I should probably get going,” Chanyeol said once they had grown quiet again. “My mother’s probably worrying by now.”

Baekhyun snorted before getting up. “Worried the big, bad wolf has stolen you away from her?” he asked as he helped Chanyeol bring the plates back into the kitchen.

“Something like that,” Chanyeol said as he followed Baekhyun down the hallway to the front door.

“Well you should tell her that I mean you no harm. I’m just terribly selfish and I enjoy her son’s company far too much.” Baekhyun pulled the door open and leant against it, peered at Chanyeol as he bent down to pull on his sneakers.

“You do?” Chanyeol asked, his eyes bright as he looked up at Baekhyun, a wide smile on his face. The eager movement made him lose his balance though, and his expression changed rapidly as he lost his balance and fell backwards onto his .

With a quiet chuckle, Baekhyun held out a hand to help him up, said, “I’ll see you at work.” Reaching behind the door, he pulled an umbrella out a stander there, handed it to Chanyeol, who wordlessly took it.

“You’d better bring that back sometime!” Baekhyun called after him as Chanyeol headed towards the front gate. As he walked through it, Chanyeol turned to grin at him over his shoulder.

“Make sure you’re on time!" he joked in response, and then he was out of view as he disappeared behind the tall garden wall.

****

OoOoOoOooooOoOoOOo, a semi-date already??? Who'd have thought?!


Yes, I worked Baekhyun's birthday into this fic because it was his actual birthday last weekend (when i was SUPPOSED to upload this). Happy belated birthday Baekhyunnie! <3

Also, I would just like to point out that I have not modified Baekhyun's age in this fic! In Korea, people reveal their ages based on the Korean lunar calendar, not the calendar we use in the west. From what I've learned, they add an extra year or two depending what time of year they were born. It's all pretty complicated, and I simplified Baekhyun's answer to "I'm turning twenty-eight" due to the fact that this is an English fic, but yeah. He's actualy 27, he just says he's 28 because reasons.

Double also: I'm really sorry for the week-long delay; school's been crazy. I'm going to try and stick to uploading this fic weekly or at least semi-weekly though!

And okay so this chapter didn't really come out how I wanted it to, and the wording is a little clunkier than usual, but let's just ignore that for now.

And as always, please leave me a comment (or kudos if you're feeling generous), as they REALLY help me with motivation and other such qualities.