It was a rainy Tuesday night and Yifan had just returned to the counter from his break. Neither the break room nor the bar had any windows, but in the almost perfect silence Yifan had spent at a way too bright table, he could hear it prattle onto the building.
He'd initially been looking forward to his break because his stomach had begun to remind him that one sandwich in twelve hours wasn't enough to keep the night time from getting to him. He'd been working at the bar for three years now, and could say that he was generally used to staying up late - but Tuesdays were easily the least busy days, and with nothing to really keep him occupied, it was hard to stay focused after midnight. At least on nothing but a sloppy sandwich made with pre-cut meat and salad. It was a good thing nobody was on break with him to witness his midnight snack - which was another, pre-made sandwich bought from the convenience store down the street. It wasn't even that Yifan was that into sandwiches. He just hadn't been invested enough in this day to go for something more healthy (or expensive), and today was definitely not worth cooking one of the approximately four dishes he knew.

Despite the questionable content of his lunch box, he felt a little clearer in the head after spending half an hour away from the dingy light and quiet jazz music. As he kept half-heartedly wiping down the counter, he mentally went over his schedule for the next day. Unfortunately, he had a meeting with a producer at eleven in the morning, meaning that he had to get the rest of his sleep later in the day, preferably before his next shift. He was itching to sit down and give his tracks a few more listens, itching to polish any rough edges, but right now, he was working; and Yifan took his job seriously.

Yixing was a nice boss and resembled the cliché of a Hollywood bartender in every way. In fact, whenever he was standing behind the counter, Yifan caught himself thinking about James Bond-like concepts, and being a bartender suddenly felt a little more impressive than it usually did. It was the others sleek presence that usually motivated him to at least try and follow his example, to not just serve drinks, but also (platonic) company. Today, however, Yixing wasn't around and Yifan was left manning the counter with a single waitress - who was currently subtly browsing her phone - while a small group of people occupying a corner table and two businessmen were their only customers. Today, Yifan could be an introverted guy pouring drinks and just doing his job, no glitz and glamour.

When the door to their lounge opened, Soojung actually looked up, but at the sight of a single patreon aiming for the counter, she lost interest again.

Yifan didn't blame her, and quite frankly, he was a bit too bored to give up the first customer they’d gotten in an hour.

The man was younger than their usual patronage and taller, too. By the time he reached the counter, Yifan had recognized him as one of their regulars. Though he'd never seen him come in on a Tuesday. Or alone, for that matter.
Chanyeol was usually just one laugh of many that would be heard on Sunday evenings, when his group occupied the table in the right corner. They rarely spent much, mostly sticking to beer and occasional snacks, but Yixing liked them anyway, stated that they lived up the place . In Yifan's books, every customer that didn't cause trouble or was overly noisy was welcome, and the group of friends usually stuck to a bearable level of noise - with the tall, lanky guy with the boisterous laughter being a clear standout. Sometimes, he became loud enough for his friends to chide him, and this was how Yifan learnt to put a name to the boyish face.

Chanyeol was a bit of a standout in other ways, as well. He made for an interesting clash between innocence and manliness, with his blonde, dyed hair and dark roots, with his shiny eyes, straight nose and nice lips that were quick to tug into a smile. Today, however, the smile was weak, sheepish almost, as Chanyeol slid onto one of the bar stools.

"Hi."

Yifan put up a small, professional smile.

"Good evening. Wheat beer?"

To his surprise, Chanyeol shook his head, making him feel a little embarrassed about the assumption.

"A shot of vodka, please? And keep them coming?"

He looked tired and weary, hair a bit of a mess and dress shirt completely open to reveal a simple black shirt. All in all, he looked like he had stopped by on a whim.

Not like it was Yifan's business.

"Sure."

He pulled the vodka from the fridge, pouring an icy cold shot and placing it before him. With a thin, grateful smile, the shot was downed without him making a show about it.
He didn't say anything after that, eyes trained on the counter with an unreadable expression. It was a little worrisome but Yifan knew what it felt like to need space, and the fact that the other had sought out this place - and his company - was a sign of trust, no matter how small. So Yifan poured him another shot and let him be, checking the contents of his fridges to keep himself busy.

During his copious hours of polishing glasses as he listened to the banter of Chanyeol and his friends, Yifan had come up with this entire narrative inside his head about each of them (because sometimes, being bored didn't mean that his mind was up to actually doing something productive). Chanyeol, he'd always pictured as having been the slightly shallow, slightly dumb, handsome teenager with copious amounts of friends and girlfriends, always surrounded by laughter, always trying to impress to the point of being silly, but in a harmless way. As he got older, he'd calmed down, finding peace in not being the center of attention at all times, and... his analysis ended there. It was a little hard to picture anything beyond that. After all, anything beyond that would involve him actually analyzing the other instead of making stuff up. 

What he did know for sure, however, was that Chanyeol was a lightweight. Not the most terrible lightweight out there, but had nothing but his height to thank for that. His tolerance was easily lower than Yifan's at least, judging by how flushed and tipsy he usually got from a couple of beers.

So when the empty shot glass met the bar with a soft click, Yifan felt obligated to say something.

"Take it easy."

Chanyeol blinked at him like he'd already forgotten about his presence.

"It's just two shots," he protested, still very much sober.

Yifan nodded even as he refilled the glass.

"The night is still young. No need to rush."

It was a relatively safe phrase, one that he'd used a couple times already, usually reserved for serious cases of drunkards.

Chanyeol seemed to consider his words, glass raised but aimlessly hovering before his lips as he got lost in thoughts.

Now if he was Yixing, he'd already have poured himself a shot, announcing yet another underpaid counseling session to be open. He wasn't Yixing though, and so he grabbed a tray to check in on their very few customers, giving the quiet boy some time to nurse his drink.

By the time he returned, it was gone, and Yifan dutifully refilled it, keeping tally on a small writing pad shoved into a corner right next to the stack of coasters. 

With a loud sigh, Chanyeol buried his head on his arms, inhaling deeply. Yifan wasn't sure whether the other was begging to be talked to or glad over being left alone. Then again, if he truly wanted to be alone, he wouldn't be sitting in front of him right now, would he?

"Bad day?"

The way Chanyeol looked up at him with an embarrassed expression was unexpected, to say the least.

"Sorry. You don't have to entertain me or anything. I didn't mean to... yanno."

Yifan did not know, but that didn't stop him from placing a little bowl of roasted nuts on the counter.

"You could always entertain me. It's pretty quiet today."

He wasn't usually this forward, but for once, he was slightly interested and wanted to lend someone an ear, even if he might lack the surprisingly wise advice Yixing always had to offer.

Chanyeol seemed to consider this, lip between his teeth - a motion Yifan followed instinctively - before slumping against the counter again.

"It's kinda stupid."

"Oh?"

It was an open-ended syllable, a door held open, and Chanyeol took his time hovering in the doorway, a fingertip running over the rim of his glass and dipping into the perspiration.

"I just couldn't sleep."

Yifan hummed. It explained the bed hair, at least - not like he was going to comment on that.

"So I decided to stop by."

"I see. You don't live too far?"

Chanyeol nodded - as much as he could, from his position.

"Yeah, I live down the street."

Yifan didn't mention that he himself lived over the bar, three stories up to be precise, or that this was the only reason why he worked here in the first place.

"It can get pretty noisy outside," he said instead, and Chanyeol hummed noncommittally.

"It's alright. My apartment is pretty high up."

Mentally, Yifan went over the neighbouring buildings. There were a few coming to mind, none of them being very pretty, but the rent was rather high nonetheless. It affirmed his assumption that Chanyeol had an average living standard.

"I just didn't really know what to do with myself and needed a distraction."

Yifan hummed, half-heartedly polishing glasses. There was something else, and he could see the other gear himself up to say it - funny, how some people carried their heart on their sleeve.

"I got dumped today."

Yifan's hands didn't even pause, simply reaching for a new glass. It wasn't exactly what he had said - at this job, Yifan had heard these words more often than he cared to admit - but it was how he'd said it. Neither grave, nor overly light with no fake, strained smile or hunched shoulders to go along with it. Chanyeol had said it like he was talking about a trip to the convenience store.

"Less than three months is a bit of a new low though, even for me," he admitted, fishing a roasted nut out of the bowl. "Not like I care much though."

He paused, with the nut halfway to his lips.

"You sure about that?" Yifan asked carefully. Chanyeol would be far from the first patron to start crying at the bar, and Yifan didn't feel qualified to deal with that.

"Yeah," Chanyeol muttered, finally popping the peanut into his mouth. "She said I'm not committed enough, and judging by how little I care, she's probably right."

Yifan looked down at the glass in his hand, feeling a tad heavier than before. If he focused very hard on the polished surface, he could see the distorted reflection of the last person to run their lips over his skin. It was an old memory, the blurred lines a blessing more than anything, and Yifan's eyes wandered to the counter instead, polishing the glass a little more rigorously.

"Weird. I feel like I should feel worse about this," Chanyeol mumbled thoughtfully. The tips of his ears were a little red already, but his fingers encased the small glass with no trouble, downing yet another shot. Number five was poured without a comment.

"Why?" was all he asked, and Chanyeol shrugged.

"She was pretty nice and I messed up. My friends will probably judge me. But earlier, when we agreed to break up, I just felt... relieved."

"Because you weren't into it," Yifan guessed, but Chanyeol shook his head.

"I mean yes, but I was relieved because I felt like I'd get more time to myself now. Relaxing after work or tinkering on something was more important to me than being with someone. How ty is that?"

Yifan stared at him, every movement coming to a standstill.

Chanyeol smiled, but it came out forced.

"Sorry. I'm just pitying myself now, I guess."

Yifan placed the rug over the edge of the sink and grabbed a clean shot glass, placing it on the counter to fill it with vodka. The confusion on the other's face remained, even as Yifan wordlessly lifted his glass and he followed suit.

Yifan didn't drink a lot, so despite the alcohol being an expensive, mild one, it burnt. Like a frost burn.

"Uhm. Am I annoying you?" Chanyeol asked cautiously. He looked flustered, probably about the way he was spilling all his conflicts to Yifan.

'Not at all,' Yifan wanted to say, but instead, he just shook his head. He didn't want the other to ask what had prompted him to drink, mostly because he wasn't too sure himself.

So he decided to keep the conversation going instead.

"Your work is rough on you?" Yifan asked eventually, steering towards what seemed to be a safe brick to nudge in this mental game of Jenga. 

With a groan, Chanyeol buried his head on his hands, almost knocking over shot number six.

"Don't even ask. It's been hell for almost a year now," he complained, voice muffled until he turned to the side, not meeting Yifan's eyes. "Christmas is always hell but this year, it turned into the new norm? People are leaving left and right and the workload is just spread among us - but I should probably not be telling this to you."

Yifan looked around the deserted bar, but he couldn't exactly agree.

"Things are pretty good here, actually."

"Really?" Chanyeol asked with pursed lips, looking quite like a petulant child. "Maybe I should apply. I live nearby, I got plenty of black shirts... and I can't even make myself a cup of coffee, much less mix cocktails," he ended with a sigh. "Never mind."

"It's not that hard," he said goodnaturedly. "You got an office job?"

Chanyeol shot him a dubious look.

"I mean, kinda. But how do you know?"

"Those are not the hands of a construction worker," Yifan shrugged. "And you always wear dress shirts. It was just a guess."

"I work at RE-M," Chanyeol admitted, sitting up only to steady his chin on his hand.

"The radio station?"

"I mean, yeah. Our online presence is more relevant these days, but radio shows and podcasts are still a big part of it. When I applied, I was not expecting to spend most of my time fact-checking articles, but that’s exactly how it is.”

"What did you expect?" Yifan asked, applying the most basic rule of bartender etiquette Yixing had taught him on his very first day: asking questions. Being a bartender was apparently not unlike being a taxi driver - people didn't sit down at a bar to hear about the bartender's life. They wanted to talk, and asking questions was by far the most seamless way to allow them to do this.

Chanyeol sighed.

"It's pretty stupid."

He seemed to think that about a lot of things concerning himself and while Yifan wasn't going to agree, he could emphasize. Many things were stupid, especially if they came out of a human's head.

"I actually want to be a musician, so I thought working at a radio station would get me closer to that goal," Chanyeol admitted.

Yifan looked up at this, and the surprise was probably all-to visible on his face, because Chanyeol's shoulders drew up in defense.

"Don't laugh."

Yifan shook his head, the glass in his hand forgotten.

"That's not it," he said evasively, tempted to mention that he was producing music for a living, but ultimately holding back on it. "What kind of musician?"

Chanyeol shrugged, toying with the empty shot glass.

"I don't even know anymore. I used to be in a band until a few years ago. Drums. Never got all that popular and when my friend got a job overseas, we decided to end things. I can do a few more instruments but I guess I can sing, too. Somewhat. I thought of writing my own songs, but I'm not sure how to go about it, and I'm not really good at it, I guess."

All of this had streamed out steadily, spilling truth after truth just like that. It was kind of amazing how easily the other opened up, and the budding flush painting his cheeks only added to him looking like a lost little boy.

Usually, Yifan would be somewhat annoyed by people pouring so many words over him, but this time, he felt them all settle in his own stomach, feeling all-too familiar.

"How do you know you're not good at it?" Yifan asked quietly.

Chanyeol bit his bottom lip.

"I mean. Nobody really wants my songs, so I guess I should just face the truth and keep working on myself. I was thinking of taking a course or something but they all look either sketchy or cost a fortune..."

"Or both," Yifan added without thinking, and Chanyeol nodded.

"Yeah. Someone told me my songs are generic and lack a vision, so I've been trying to produce something really unique and out there, but the longer I think about this, the more stuck I feel. Like when you're saying a word so many times that it feels wrong and strange. Does that make any sense at all?"

"It makes a lot of sense," Yifan agreed simply, refilling his glass. Chanyeol eyed the movement warily.

"What about yours?" he asked with a small pout, and Yifan wordlessly refilled his own glass as well. Two shots were already two more than he usually did, but it wouldn't be enough to actually get tipsy.

"Maybe you should produce a song for yourself," he suggested. "One that's not supposed to appeal to anyone but yourself."

"And then my shining vision will suddenly appear and I'll realize that it was within me all along?" Chanyeol asked, a little too dejected to get across his sarcasm properly.

"Then you'll have made a song that you like," Yifan calmly said. "It doesn't always have to serve a bigger purpose."

Chanyeol paused at that, looking like he was about to disagree, and Yifan got it. It was easy to say these things but it was much harder to actually act on them.
To sit down with your headphones and try to push all your biases to the side to produce something just for yourself. To not constantly try to mimic or imitate or worry about marketability.

"You're already earning enough money to pay for your rent, don't you?" Yifan asked, and Chanyeol shrugged reluctantly.

"See? Then what's with the rush?"

"I'm not even rushing," Chanyeol whined, belatedly turning his volume down when he earned himself a piercing glare by Soojung looking up from her phone. "I've just been dawdling around forever now. But it's so hard to find time between the office and the commissions-"

"You commission songs?" Yifan asked with a raised brow, but Chanyeol just waved him off.

"Just making piano or guitar arrangements of some royalty free songs for cafés and the likes. Nothing big."

"Sounds pretty impressive to me."

Chanyeol ducked his head, but the chuckle was mostly self-deprecating.

"It's really not. I'm just kinda stuck in a rut at the moment. But in my defense, I'd say this qualifies as having really bad luck. Recently, nothing seems to be working out the way I want it to. I really need to try harder."

"Sounds like you're trying pretty hard already."

Chanyeol just shook his head and sighed, forehead meeting the counter with a thud too soft to be heard over the music floating from the speakers.

"I'm such a failure at the moment," he groaned quietly, voice growing slightly slurry as the alcohol seemed to catch up with him. "I'm just so annoyed over how little I'm doing with my free time. I'm not even doing much with my friends, I just tell myself to work and then don't. Even my own self-pity is annoying me, and I'm sorry I'm bombarding you with all this nonsense."

Yifan lowered his gaze to his own fingers tapping the polished surface.

"It's not like I got anything better to do right now," he hummed. "Though I'm surprised you came here instead of meeting up with your friends. They seem like good people."

"They are," Chanyeol agreed immediately, and the mention of his friends had him shift to put his head on his arms instead, looking at nothing in particular. "They're the best. I just didn't want to waste their time over something so trivial. Not like- not like I want to waste your time."

"So you getting dumped and being frustrated with your job as well as severely overworked is something you consider trivial?"

"I'm not overworked-"

"Says the guy with two jobs who meets friends and produces music on the side," Yifan intervened flatly. Chanyeol shot him a petulant look.

"So what? I still got plenty of time to sit around and stare at nothing. Kinda like I’m doing right now. What about you? Do you do anything aside from being a bartender here?"

Yifan hesitated, which in and of itself was peculiar. He wouldn't usually do that, when asked a personal question, would usually deflect it straight away. In the end, he settled for the default answer though.

"No," he lied, watching Chanyeol puff up his red cheeks. "Guess I'm the lazy one out of the two of us."

"Don't be stupid," Chanyeol immediately waved him off, not even hesitating a second. "You're earning money in an honest fashion. Nobody is asking any more of you-"

"Then why are you asking for so much more of yourself?"

He was taking this a bit far, Yifan was aware of that. He was supposed to listen and offer shallow comfort, not ask inconvenient questions. He wasn't even sure where all these questions and concern came from - after all, the person across him was nothing but a stranger invading a comfortable space he had painstakingly built for himself over the span of three years.

"I just... I know I can do better than this. I just need to focus."

With a small exhale, Yifan gestured towards his glass.

"Focus on this, then."

Chanyeol didn't even attempt resisting, just lifted the glass to his lips and emptied it. His eyes were slightly glassy already, but scrunching up his brows seemed to help retain his focus.

"Do you give free counseling sessions to all your clients?" he asked, sounding almost accusatory.

Yifan huffed.

"I'd probably get less tips if I did," he admitted.

"For real," Chanyeol hummed, holding out his glass with an expectant look. Yifan switched to a harmless, cherry-flavoured liquor, deciding that Chanyeol had enough hard shots at this point. He didn't even complain, just watched him with a thoughtful expression that was almost uncomfortable.

"So what gets you to take a shot?" he eventually asked, shaking his head a little to regain focus. "I mean. You can kinda pour them yourself but, you know."

Yifan didn't answer that immediately. Not only because he did not like to talk about himself to others, much less people who were complete strangers until just an hour ago, but also because he had to really think about that.

And the answer was so simple, it was almost disappointing.

"Right now? Nothing," he admitted. "Things are good right now."

Chanyeol shot him a confused look, as if he was trying to decipher this very simple answer.

"You're weird," he eventually said, and if Yifan was anyone else, he would have chortled at that, or maybe smiled. He wasn't though.
He was just Yifan. Boring and blank-faced, and in no need of placating anyone.

"Maybe."

"Are you alright?"

He paused, and for the first time that evening, he felt like his balance had been tipped.

Which was silly, because the question was silly, really, but it had come so out of nowhere, and with such a misplaced sense of genuine concern that he didn't quite know how to react.

The stunned silence was quick to make Chanyeol cave with a hand rubbing his neck, eyes dropping to the counter.

"Sorry, it's- obviously not my place-"

"I'm alright," Yifan cut him off, finally reaching for another glass to polish, using it as an excuse to not having to meet the other's strangely attentive gaze. Most people grew hazy and selfish under the influence of alcohol, and while Chanyeol certainly wasn’t immune to that, there was still something unnervingly attentive about him. Yifan wasn't used to people paying attention to him anymore. Especially not attention that didn't make him feel cold and exposed.

Eventually, Chanyeol gave up on attempting to look inside his head and emptied his glass, placing it before Yifan with his eyes on the counter.

"Still want more? You sure?"

Chanyeol nodded. Behind him, Soojung billed the group of customers in the corner, leaving Chanyeol and the two business men as their only customers. Yifan glanced towards the clock on the counter. 3:18AM. When had that happened? It felt like only an hour or two had passed. No wonder Soojung was already discreetly trying to herd people out. He couldn't remember the last time the bar had been open for so long on a Tuesday. Not like Yifan shared her sentiments - time had flown by today, and for once, he didn't mind keeping the bar open despite the obvious lack of profit. That didn't change anything about his upcoming appointment though, or the fact that Chanyeol looked like he could need some sleep.

"Just one more," Yifan tried, and the other nodded eagerly, and Yifan caved. He stared at the glass with a strange conviction.

"Last one I'll drink for your sake," he muttered, obviously not talking to Yifan anymore. "And tomorrow, I'll get my together."

Yifan suppressed a sigh.

"Without feeling guilty for every breath spent on yourself," he added before he could help it. It really wasn't his business, and Chanyeol's petulant glare confirmed that much.

"You can hardly order me around without making a promise yourself. There."

With that, he pushed Yifan's shot glass towards him.

"Come up with something and I'll think about it."

It was dumb for multiple reasons, one of them being that Chanyeol was very drunk and should obviously care for himself for his own sake, but Yifan took his forgotten shot glass, anyway. It wasn't nearly as cold anymore as he would have liked, but that was entirely his fault.

It wasn't like he was planning on making a spontaneous, life-changing promise to himself in this very moment, but what started out as half-heartedly humoring the drunk man across him quickly turned into his thoughts coming to a standstill.

What could he drink to? He could only think of his success as a producer, of the upcoming meeting with the agency he wanted to sell his song to, but drinking to that felt like handing over his success to fate. What else could he be drinking to?

Looking into the tiny glass, he felt an old, achingly familiar sensation that had been with him ever since he arrived in Korea years ago, really. It had started out as a welcome, warm sensation back then, but over time, it decided to burn itself into his skin, to the point where he just accepted the feeling for what it was.

He was alright now. That was not a lie.

And there really was no reason why some drunk, chatty guy should get to him the way he did, bringing back a bit of what he had left behind for a reason.

"Come on, there has to be something to drink to," Chanyeol ripped him out of his thoughts, clearly experiencing issues in holding his glass straight. "At the very least, you can always drink to having made it to another sunrise. We could be dead now but we're not. That's something, right?"

Yifan huffed.

"You're drunk."

"I sure hope I am," Chanyeol muttered. "Considering that I lost track of how many shots I had."

Yifan glanced at the notepad beneath the counter.

"Do you actually want to know or...?"

Chanyeol shook his head.

"I want to know what you're drinking to," he insisted.

Yifan suppressed a sigh and looked back at the glass in his hand.

"I don't know. To you?"

Chanyeol blinked.

"Why me?"

Yifan shrugged.

"You seem like you could need it."

Chanyeol pursed his lips, looking like a child that had been outwitted.

"Well, okay then," he relented, lifting the glass with an earnest expression. "Then I'll drink to you. May things continue to be good for you."

Their glasses met with a soft click, and Yifan downed the shot before he could think too much.

This guy across him had so many problems that his head was spinning just trying to put himself in his shoes, and yet he had the heart to care so much about someone who had repeatedly assured him that he was fine. How curious.

By the time he put his glass down, Chanyeol was grinning. It looked good on him.

"I bet I'm the first one who had you drink three shots," he claimed, looking strangely proud of himself.

"I really don't see what about this seems exciting to you," Yifan commented, but it didn't do anything to dampen the other's mood.

"We've been coming here for two years and I have never seen you drink with anyone."

"You've been paying attention, huh?" Yifan asked, and it came out lighter than intended, definitely less grounded and blank than it should.

Chanyeol lowered his gaze.

"'course I did. You're pretty- pretty tall," he ended lamely. Yifan pretended like he hadn't heard any of that and poured him another shot before he knew it.

"There. On the house."

"I thought I shouldn't-"

"Take it or leave it," Yifan cut him off, turning his back to Chanyeol for the first time that evening, busying himself with quickly storing everything away in order to close the bar. He was feeling... nervous. But not the usual nervous. A different kind.

Soojung was currently busy billing the last two customers, so it was only a matter of time until he could finally fall into bed, enjoying the soothing loneliness of his room, far away from imploring, shiny eyes and invasive questions thrown right back at him.

"Thanks."

He didn't even look towards Chanyeol, just made a vague hum, but the other apparently wasn't talking about the alcohol.

"I know I got a tendency to overshare - especially when I'm drunk - so, uhm. Thanks for humoring me all night."

"That's kinda part of my job," Yifan said, but he didn't mean it, and a part of him hoped that Chanyeol wouldn't believe him.

"Sure. In that case, you surely won't mind me rambling to you like this every day from now on, right? Kidding."

Yifan heard him sigh, the chair scratching over the ground.

"Okay, let me pay up and you'll finally be rid of me."

Yifan took a deep breath, and by the time he turned around he had all his thoughts stored away for a later time. It really was time to wrap up this evening.

"Sure. Cash or card?"

"Definitely card," Chanyeol joked, tugging his jacket off the back of his bar chair. "I don't even wanna know how much it is to be honest."

"In that case, I'll just book over whatever," Yifan joked right back, typing in a sum that was actually slightly lower than it should be. He'd pay for the difference out of his own pocket later.

Chanyeol swiped his card while Soojung showed up, already wearing her messenger bag slung over her shoulder, hair cascading down her back in loose waves from wearing it in a tight bun all night.

"Can I leave first?"

Yifan gave her a curt nod.

"Sure. I'll close up."

Heels clacked over the ground, and then they were alone in the establishment. With a few, practiced flicks, Yifan turned off the painfully generic jazz tape, dimly thinking that he'd be grateful for having some piano arrangements to listen to once in a while.

For some reason, Chanyeol still hadn't gotten to his feet yet, looking like he was about to fall asleep.

"You okay there?" Yifan asked, phone in hand already. "Want me to call you a taxi?"

Chanyeol shook his head.

"I live just down the street."

Right. He'd told him that earlier.

"Just,” Chanyeol began, eyes still on the counter, “if I never see you again, uhm. Just know you're cool."

Yifan stilled, willing down the flicker of anxiety.

"Why... would I not see you again?" he asked slowly.

Chanyeol shrugged.

"I mean. Who knows, right?" he asked suspiciously lightly, fumbling with the jacket on his lap. "If I get run over by a car or they find me in a ditch tomorrow, I'd kinda regret not having told you this. I'm just drunk, really," he ended awkwardly, but the sheepish smile didn't reach his eyes.

"For someone who's in their twenties, you talk about dying a whole lot," Yifan commented. It was mostly a joke, but Chanyeol froze up.

"Is that weird?"

Yifan wasn't sure what to say to that, but his silence seemed to be enough of an answer.

"I..." Chanyeol began, restless fingers running over the shiny zipper of his jacket. Up and down.

"I think about it every day. Once or twice at least. About dying."

Upon seeing Yifan's expression, he hurried to smile and wave him off.

"I'm not suicidal, don't worry! It's nothing like that. I don't want to die. It's just, you know."

Yifan did not know. He only knew one or the other, and nothing in between. So Chanyeol swallowed and elaborated.

"It's like when you walk past the railways and a part of you worries that you might trip onto them and then you get run over. Even though that's unlikely, you know? Not like the railways are calling for me or some , it's just- something I worry about."

"About dying in an accident," Yifan stated, unable to even come up with a proper judgement.

"Yeah," Chanyeol admitted. "Sometimes, everything just blurs by and you're in the zone doing menial , and then suddenly, I go 'what if something crushes me now and I'm splattered within seconds?' And then it's all over?"

Now that he'd said it, it seemed impossible for Chanyeol to stop and bear with the judgement he was apparently expecting to receive.

"It kinda takes me back to reality but also out of it, you know? It's just so randomly terrifying and makes me think of all the regrets I'd have. Like... what if my time just ran out?"

He was looking at him with slightly wide eyes, as if he was expecting to drop dead right this second, but Yifan needed at least five to think about his reply.

Somehow, it all made sense. None of the pieces were overly pretty or even unique, but they fitted together well, and it didn't take him long to realize that.

"So... what?" he eventually asked. Predictably, hurt flashed over the other's face, and Yifan shook his head.

"I mean, say that actually happens. You walked out of this door and get run over by a car. Then you would have spent your last moment worrying about what would happen if your time ran out."

"Which is why I need to spend my time well," Chanyeol insisted as if he was making a point, but Yifan stayed calm.

"And worrying about your career is time well spent?" he only asked. That shut Chanyeol up, and he stared at him with suspiciously watery eyes. Yifan wasn't trying to hurt him though, far from it, really.

"Look," he began softly, leaning on the counter to be on eye level with the bundle of misery sitting across him. "It's good that you have goals. But why do you want to make music?"

"I love it," Chanyeol said without hesitation, and Yifan nodded.

"See? What's the point if you push yourself into not being allowed to enjoy the process? If you don't appreciate all the success you experience along the way, you'll always die with regrets. Take a deep breath."

Chanyeol inhaled, still blinking against the budding tears, and exhaled with a noisy sigh.

"And another one," Yifan commanded patiently. Chanyeol followed again, mild confusion breaking through the haze of helplessness and alcohol.

Yifan straightened up again.

"See? Alive and doing well."

Chanyeol chortled, a choked, mildly wet sound.

"For real now?" he demanded, and it made Yifan's lips twitch into a grin.

"Yeah. What more do you need right now?"

He grabbed the keys and walked around the counter, offering him his arm.

"Now come on, I'll get you home and make sure you don't get run over."

"What? No, you don't need to-" Chanyeol began, proceeding to almost fall off the chair as he attempted to stand up.

"Sure," was all Yifan said while he maneuvered him to the door. He pretended not to hear the way Chanyeol sniffled, trying and failing to discreetly rub his sleeves over his damp face.

"You really are a lightweight."

"Shut up," Chanyeol muttered, holding on to him like his life depended on it.

Chanyeol hadn't lied about living nearby - it was barely a five minute walk. At some point during their long talk, the downpour had stopped, leaving the air soothingly cool and drenched in the scent of rain. It was enough to slightly sober Chanyeol up, at least enough for him to walk on his own… and to feel self-conscious about meeting Yifan's eyes as he stood before the entrance to his apartment building.

"Well. Uh. That was pretty embarrassing," he muttered.

Yifan shrugged.

"I don't think it was. You should get some rest though. I'll see you around-"

"Wait!" Chanyeol hurried, hands stretched out like he was fearing Yifan would make a run for it - something he was slightly tempted to do, but Chanyeol didn't need to know that. This was more human interaction than he'd had in a while, and he was quite exhausted and, frankly, a little overwhelmed.

"Yeah?"

"Uhm," Chanyeol began, but a single look at Yifan's expectant face was enough for the words to come out. "Wanna exchange phone numbers? To, yanno. I don't know, I wanted to thank you for tonight, so- yeah."

Seeing him cringe over his own awkward attitude was making it a bit easier for Yifan to drown out the wariness kicking in. It was so effective, actually, that Yifan heard himself say "Sure," saw himself reaching for his phone and unlocking it. Maybe he was even more of a lightweight than Chanyeol.

"Really?" he breathed out, looking excited all of a sudden. "Cool. Cool. Wow. Okay, let me add my number-"

In Chanyeol's defense, he was still pretty drunk. Yifan could excuse the shameless way he took Yifan's phone without asking.
He could not excuse himself for letting it happen though.

"Wait, no-" he began, but Chanyeol was already staring at the screen in confusion, no doubt seeing Yifan's list of contacts. Or lack thereof.

No doubt seeing that there were only two numbers in his phone - one of the agency he worked with and the other of his boss at the bar.

"Oh, is this a work phone?" Chanyeol asked after a beat of silence, and Yifan should say 'yes,’ straight away, he really should. There was absolutely no reason not to lie now.

"No," he admitted.

No.
He simply didn't have any numbers, hadn't taken any when leaving his home country.

And things were alright now.

Though that didn't mean his head wasn't stuffed with regrets right now, making up possible follow up lies, trying to think of a way to answer the questions Chanyeol might have-

"Are you sure I can save it, then?"

Yifan stared at him, genuinely confused.

"Hm?"

"Are you sure you want my number, then?" Chanyeol elaborated slowly, as if Yifan was the drunk one between them. "I don't wanna bother you."

Oh.

Yifan gave him a probing look, but there was no follow up question, no lingering pity or suspicion in the other's shiny eyes.

"Yeah. Just type it in," he heard himself say, feeling like he was running on autopilot.

And just like that, Chanyeol added a contact to his phone, tongue peeking out as he tried to hit all the numbers correctly.

Just like that, he was doing something so huge, so life-changing. Like it was nothing to him.

It felt like the tables had turned, and suddenly, Yifan felt like the one threatening to lose footing.

It probably didn't show on his face though, judging by the bright, shy smile on Chanyeol's face as he handed back the phone.

"Send me a text so I'll have your number. I'll treat you to a cup of coffee or something."

Yifan nodded.

"Sure," he said, and after a moment of hesitation, he added, "you should bring one of your tapes, too. If you want to."

Chanyeol smiled even wider, and after a quick, clumsy hug and a whispered 'Thank you,' he disappeared into the building, too fast for Yifan to even consider shying away.

What a hypocrite he was, Yifan thought absently as he stood under a scaldingly hot shower not too long after. Telling Chanyeol to stop thinking so much when he himself felt like emptying his stomach out of sheer stress right now.

It would be alright though. Somehow, he was convinced that this would be worth it.

_

It took three days for Yifan to message Chanyeol, and to receive a fast, enthusiastic reply.

It took another five months for him to add a fourth contact to his phone. It went from "Luhan (Chanyeol)" to just "Luhan", and eventually, it was joined by Kyungsoo, Sehun and Yixing.
Even Soojung.

It took almost exactly a year for Chanyeol to press a careful kiss to his lips in the middle of one of their music-producing sessions. They'd had it a long time coming and everyone knew, including them, but that was alright, Chanyeol insisted over and over again.

They had time.

idk if this is conceited, but i'd be curious to hear what you imagine yifan's past to have been like.
(anyway, this was largely based on my own experiences, so if anything at all rings true to you here, i can offer you the meager comfort that it's not just you)

thanks a lot for reading!
Love,
Sugary