“Name?”

“Private Byun Baekhyun reporting for duty.” He stood and faced the man at the admissions office desk before straightening his back. “Sir,” he added as an afterthought and the man barely softened his scowl. “Here,” he was handed a kit bag almost as big as he was and a heavy looking pair of boots. “Be in the mess at 6 for dinner, don’t be late or you’ll miss out, your dorm assignment is number four.”

There was no further instruction. Baekhyun took the bag and almost tipped under the weight of it. He knew he should have applied for civil service but he was determined to show them all they were wrong. He could do this. It was only eighteen months anyway, a year and a half away from the glare of the spotlight, the overwhelming pressure of the music industry. A year and a half of no fanmeets, no aegyo, no eyeliner and no diets. How hard could it be?

Hard.

When he swung the door open to dorm number four the room fell under a strange hush. He cold see them looking at him, scorning him already, the big shot singer with money to burn and women hanging off his arm. He was clearly five years older than almost all of the other recruits lazing around on bunks or hanging their new fatigues in the small lockers besides each bunk. He ignored their hushed whispers and hoped for nothing more as he dragged the heavy bag across the floor in search of some space.

They’d all clearly been here for hours and were well settled. Baekhyun had been held up doing a live broadcast and posing for the requisite photos with his newly shaved head. He wandered down the middle of the small dorm, five bunks lined up on each side, room to house twenty men. Twenty men he’d eat with, sleep with and live with for the next eight weeks until they all branched off into their chosen field of expertise. One bunk at the end was empty and he sighed as he swung his bag over onto the bottom bed.

At least he made it here before the last guy. The last one in would have to take the top.

Baekhyun looked around, a little nervous, before stripping off his expensive sweater and shirt. He pulled the supplied army issue white t-shirt over his head before anyone could get a good look at his body. He’d heard stories of people taking photos of other idols shirtless or, even worse, in the shower while they were serving.

These photos had been spread amongst fans widely and Baekhyun couldn’t think of anything worse. His skinny body, slender and frail from years of dieting, wasn’t made to be shown off. It was made to dance and sing, model fashion and skincare, to be lithe and graceful and frail. He wasn’t built for physical activity. He wasn’t built to show off muscles or strength or even aggression.

He slid his jeans off and pulled on the khaki camo fatigues. They were cuffed around the ankle so they could be stuffed inside the heavy boots sitting on the floor. He buttoned them and lamented the looseness of the waist. They’d barely even stay up.

No one wanted to talk to him; Baekhyun could feel it in the tension in the air. He reclined on his bunk, the stiff woollen blanket feeling foreign against his arms, and waited for the others to resume their chatter. It didn’t take long and he scrolled through his phone’s notifications, brushing aside those well-wishers he didn’t care about, replying to his favourite hyungs who had already completed their service.

They’d warned him what to expect but he never expected to feel like this. He’d always felt like an outsider until he started to make waves in the music industry and found his place in life. Now it was like he was back at school again – too small, too loud, too annoying. All the confidence he’d built around himself in the last ten years of a highly successful career was crashing down around him in one lonely quiet day.

He looked over at the man reclining on the bunk next to him and immediately turned away. He didn’t even know how to start a conversation. Better off to keep to himself, he thought, for the time being anyway. His hyungs had explained to him he would need to rely on these guys to keep him going through the gruelling 8 weeks of basic training. That he would need to form relationships, strong bonds to support his mental health, that he would have to be able to trust them and rely on them. He didn’t know how that was going to happen.

The chatter in the room had slowly increased during his musings and Baekhyun tried not to feel lonely. Everything was going to be okay – it was only eight weeks anyway. After this he had his sights set on joining the military band section and he’d be with like minded people there. It was the path a lot of idols took. He couldn’t play any instruments but his voice was enough to get his foot in the door. Maybe he’d even learn to play something. He’d always wanted to learn to play guitar but he’d never had the time.

The murmurs increased again around him, swelling, reaching what felt like a crescendo of exclusion until the door swung one more time. It bounced hard against the wall and the doorway was filled with a looming figure, tall and broad, features hidden by the backlight of the outside world. Baekhyun looked up curiously, wondering who the last man was, and why he had the nerve to turn up even later than him. A round shaved head met his vision, ears that stuck out more than they should, and only when the man entered the room did the light change and shine across his familiar face.

Chanyeol.

Park Chanyeol.

No. It couldn’t be true. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel. Baekhyun knew they were the same age but, by his calculations, Chanyeol would have still had six months or so before he had to enlist. This couldn’t be happening.

Their cold war had been going on for longer than Baekhyun could remember. Once, more than ten years ago, they had been trainees together albeit briefly. They’d trained together for about six months and gotten along famously, maybe even considered each other best friends, before one day Baekhyun walked in to the training room and Chanyeol was gone. He was just gone. No note, no text, no message, or phone call. No explanation. He’d thrown Baekhyun away like he was worth nothing and joined a small company where his prowess with a guitar and his manly good looks had raised his company up out of the dirt and into financial success.

By some unlucky will of the music gods Baekhyun and Chanyeol always seemed to be promoting at the same time. Baekhyun’s first ever music show win was standing side by side on stage with Chanyeol trying not to scowl right into the camera at his own loss. His own first win wouldn’t come until a year later, Chanyeol grinning victoriously as he loomed over the stage, Baekhyun’s first full album no match for Chanyeol’s guitar and newly pink hair.

It went on like this for years, silently competing on the charts and on YouTube, flexing their industry muscles with commercial contracts and modelling jobs. Baekhyun might have had the edge a little, his y style and dance skills leading to high sales and immense popularity marginally higher than Chanyeol’s, but it didn’t matter in his eyes or the general publics. Chanyeol was a real musician. He could play guitar and drums. He was even recently cast in a movie. Baekhyun had spent the last ten years wondering what went wrong, why his best friend abandoned him, why he never even heard why. Culminating in this penultimate moment; staring at each other under the cheap lighting of a single electric bulb in a dusty army dorm.

“No ing way,” Chanyeol hissed under his breath as he swung the heavy kit bag by his side like it was filled with feathers. “Not exactly my choice either,” Baekhyun grumbled as he tried not to look Chanyeol in the eye. “I got my notice. Why are you here?”

“Volunteered early,” was all Chanyeol said as he dropped the kit bag onto the ground next to the bunks.

The silence swung around into a new swell of easy chatter as the men lounging around began to wave and nod hello to Chanyeol. Baekhyun wanted to tell them all to off. All because Chanyeol was tall and broad and could play guitar and had tattoos? He was immediately allowed a free ticket into this haven of masculine energy that Baekhyun was excluded from?

Chanyeol was grinning widely now, smiling, and waving at his eighteen new fans, as he pulled his hoodie straight off over his head. Baekhyun wanted to look away but he couldn’t. It was all right there on display, his back muscles flexing with each movement as Chanyeol picked up his army issued t-shirt.

“It’s a bit tight,” he laughed loudly as he pulled it down over his chest. His strong looking pecs and impressive abs disappeared under the white cotton only barely. The stretch of the shirt made them still visible when he moved to find his pants. Baekhyun had always known Chanyeol spotted a number of tattoos on his arms but the small one on his chest and the large one on his back were new to his eyes. He didn’t even have time to work out what they were.

“You know,” Chanyeol flashed what Baekhyun could only assume was his best smile, “if you were a bigger man you’d give me the bottom bunk. You know its going to be hard for me to fit up there.” “Lucky you’re the bigger man,” Baekhyun snapped and flushed bright pink when Chanyeol looked down at his bulge stretching the front of his boxers as he changed his pants. “That’s not what I meant,” he scowled hard and rolled over to face the wall. He’d seen and heard way too much of Chanyeol already. It was going to be a long eight weeks.

He must have nodded off because the rousing sounds of nineteen other men leaving the dorm shook him from a fuzzy stupor. Baekhyun got up and trailed them from the dorm across a muddy courtyard and into a huge mess where long tables filled the space and men sat either side of them chatting loudly.

Everything here was so loud and overwhelming. Baekhyun wondered if he’d ever get used to it. He lined up with his dorm mates at the back and filed along the huge bain maries stocked high with all sorts of food. Noodles and rice and potatoes and even bread. Baekhyun’s stomach rumbled and he talked himself out of shunning the carbs in favour of steamed vegetables. This was his one chance to eat what he wanted and it was his only consolation that at least the food here was good.

He took his plate and found an empty table where he sat alone. He nibbled at his food, paranoia of being watched always present, and found Chanyeol seemed to have no such worries. He was seated in the middle of a flock of younger men, laughing loudly with his mouth full of bread, telling a wild story that must have been making them laugh as well. The noise was annoying and Baekhyun avoided the little part of him that told him he was jealous. He remembered when he used to be the recipient of that attention, listening to Chanyeol talk for hours, filling his ears with that infectious raucous laughter that made you feel good inside.

“Ugh,” he grumbled to himself and stabbed at a slice of meat with his chopsticks.

“Okay?” a slender man sat down next to him and smiled warmly. “Yeah I’m okay,” Baekhyun was scared to look up and when he did he found his eyes washing over a small round face, dark eyes, and the requisite shaved head everyone seemed to have. “I’m Siwan,” he said politely with a slight bow. “I’ve been here two weeks. Dorm seven.” “Dorm four,” Baekhyun replied. “First day.” “Rough,” Siwan slurped at his noodles and continued to talk with black bean sauce dripping down his chin. “We can’t all fit in like that guy. Mr Rock Star over there.” He looked like he was about to point his chopsticks over towards Chanyeol but thought better of it. “You know him?”

“No,” Baekhyun shook his head and looked down again. He felt suddenly and inexplicably tired. “Don’t all famous people know each other?” “You know who I am?” Baekhyun looked up and the kid, maybe twenty if he was lucky, slurped some more noodles. “Of course. We all knew you were coming. Everyone’s been talking about how you’re probably going to get special treatment. That’s why they already don’t like you.”

Honesty struck Baekhyun like a ton of bricks. He’d never ask for special treatment but he couldn’t deny that he was probably going to get it at some point whether he asked or not. It was just the way things were. “What about him then? They seem to like him.” Baekhyun’s eyes wandered over to where Chanyeol was shovelling rice into his mouth as a group of younger men fawned over him like he was gods gift to the military. “Have you seen him?” Siwan laughed loudly. “He’s huge. He’s not going to need any special treatment. Look how fit and strong he is.”

Baekhyun hated to admit it but Siwan was right. The military was the perfect place for Chanyeol to achieve. He was huge, strong and muscular, fit and effervescent. His bright and affable personality would make up for any physical shortcomings no matter how slight. Baekhyun scowled and stuffed his face with as many carbs as he could to make up for the pit of anxiety digging itself in his stomach.

He knew he’d left it under his pillow but it was definitely gone. A cold sweat began to run down his back as Baekhyun realised someone had swiped his phone. If they managed to unlock it they’d be able to see all his selcas, his messages, his private and business emails. The anxiety ever present built swiftly into a full-blown panic attack as he tossed the pillows from his bunk.

“My phone,” he said loudly, everyone could hear him. “Who took my phone?”

The men already back lounging on their beds chuckled a little as they ignored his plaintive voice. “Who took it?” he knew his emotion were getting out of control but he couldn’t help it. He was already in such a panic. One man rolled over and laughed outright as Baekhyun began to tremble and shake. “Give it back!” he snapped at the man laughing at him who only laughed louder and the others began to join in.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smirked as tears filled Baekhyun’s eyes. Baekhyun didn’t know what to do. He pushed past a man walking to his bunk and stormed out of the dorm just as Chanyeol was walking back in flanked by his new groupies. “What’s going on?” he asked when he caught sight of Baekhyun’s tear streaked cheeks but Baekhyun just pushed past him too and ran out into the darkness.

He found a spot to sit that was mostly dry and twirled the thin silver bracelet around his arm. Memories flooded back as he pulled at the cheap silver and traced his fingers over the inscription permanently etched into the metal. It was faded, as it should be, being so old. But the word still stared up at him as starkly as it had all those years ago. In another lifetime, when he met a boy who was everything he wasn’t, who left him without a word and grew into a man who didn’t need him anymore.

Fearless.

He tried. Despite his best efforts he couldn’t live a life without fear. Anxiety crippled him at every single turning point, every opportunity, every success or failure. Despite this he kept going and this to Baekhyun was the true definition of fearless. To live a life with fear but to live it anyway. To push on however uphill his battles might feel. To relentlessly grasp at opportunity and hold tight. Persistence, asiveness, fearlessness.

He wiped his cheeks dry with the bottom of his t-shirt and got up off the ground.

When he walked back in a hush fell again over the room. All eyes were on him as he walked the length of the bunks back to his bed. When he got there he saw that his pillows had been replaced, fixed neatly at the top, and his phone was sitting in the middle of the blanket.

“It’s back,” he said more to himself than anyone, “who did this?”

“Next time lock it in your locker,” a voice from above him was stern and deep but Baekhyun could feel the way it was coloured with a little bit of warmth. A fondness he’d longed for, craved for, ever since he was seventeen years old.

“Thanks,” he said softly, his response quiet and sincere. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chanyeol replied but they both knew he knew exactly what Baekhyun was thanking him for.