Having finally, finally , convinced his overbearing parents that he was ready to live alone, Kim Jongdae got a big ugly villa in a typical rich neighbourhood, where even the birds seemed to be prettier, and the road cleaner, and the air fresher, and the — you get it. It was some Parasite level , but not your typical favorite-son-wanted-by-the-oldman-to-be-the-heir-while-the-rest-of-the-family-plotted-your-death level .

 

Baekhyun didn’t go to his housewarming party, but instead sent him a present. A book with the dirtiest cover he could find. The man was shirtless, the woman was shirtless, the title was just-scratch-your-own-eyes-out bad, and judging by the description of the book, it was written by someone who absolutely had no idea how worked, or history, or pregnancy, or life, or — you get it. He also sent a pack of toilet paper; what? he was not an animal. He loved his friend.

 

Then the birthday party rolled around. Baekhyun also couldn’t come because he didn’t want to because there were going to be bunch of people he didn’t like to talk to because some of them he knew from his childhood, which was not spent by his choice, but by the rules and schedules and visions of a rather y — hired by his parents — who sent Baekhyun to every known courses, lessons, classes, schools, camps, extra lessons, night classes — you get it.

 

He sent Jongdae a picture of the birthday cake he bought, to eat it by himself, and invited him over for breakfast, lunch, dinner the next day so he could cook him something and spend the day together.

 

Jongdae kept inviting him over for parties. The movie one of their companies made was making millions! The new actress they signed was killing it in all fields! He had finally managed to stop his family from committing serious tax evasion crimes! A nephew! A cousin got married! Grandma is eighty, come on you have to come to this, she once cleaned up your poop from the pool!

 

Baekhyun kept coming up with excuses and declined the invitations. His rice cooker was acting up again! The neighbor ajummas would gossip about his coming and going! His favorite bakery was closed for a week due to a small interior construction! Game of Thrones ending depressed him more than his childhood ever did! Straight up will not come, that bastard told me to the homeroom teacher when he was planning to escape after the fourth period! Baekhyun did send odd useless gifts every time though.

 

He did meet up with Jongdae often, just not with other people, who would most likely end up being s. From his experience, people tend to be s. And Jongdae always promised him that his friends weren’t like that, and that he had met some really good people in school, and won’t he, Baekhyun, please, please, just come to school? Otherwise he would have to take the exam again, which would be valid for only another two years. It wasn’t even a private school, and there were no evil sunbaes that made you drink when you didn’t want to, only to come to the class half-drunk and just stand there like a smelly brick, and make you deal with the whole presentation. One of the professors had a cat! A really really fluffy chubby cat named Gong Yoo, even though it was a she! It was a wholesome place filled with the youth of Korea, and some other countries, living the best time of their lives! Come on, he had worked hard to pass the exam. Just come, just one, please please please.

 

Jongdae was right. Baekhyun knew that. He had worked hard, and he had a part of him that wanted to go to school, but also a huge part of him was tired, cynical, and desperate for some peace. He continued to bribe Jongdae with frequent (private) hang outs and odd (useless) gifts.

 

But he should have known that Jongdae wasn’t going to give up, and that his due date to crack was near.

 

The world’s ending woke Baekhyun up, because surely it was the end of the world. The noise was not only deafening but blinding (how?) and painful. Confident that he had died in his sleep and had gone to hell (as planned) and the devil was waking him up in his own special way, Baekhyun whimpered on the floor he had fallen down to (painfully).

 

He lifted up his head, opened his right eye and looked around. No, it was not the end of the world. It was ing worse. Kim Jongdae was standing in his room, clanging two pots against each other, and yelling something that would have made (an impressive) war cry.

 

All of his light-blocking curtains were open, revealing a stupid sunny day, even though they were in the middle of december, and can’t just things be cold and gloomy and away from him?

 

The pot-mating stopped, and Kim Jongdae, who should, in Baekhyun’s mighty opinion, never speak, spoke. “Are you awake?”

 

“The whole country — the whole of Asia is awake, you er,” Baekhyun grabbed a pillow from his bed and slumped back down on the floor, closing his eyes, praying that Hades will kill Jongdae for putting him out of job.

 

“That’s what you get for turning off your phone, you er,” The pots fell down on the floor with all of their uproarious glory, and Jongdae came down to sit next to him.

 

Baekhyun didn’t even want to look at him. “What do you want? How did you even get in?”

 

“I know your passcode,” Jongdae said matter-of-factly.

 

“I didn’t give it to you,”

 

“Who said you did?”

 

Baekhyun kicked, and smiled when his foot was connected satisfyingly (and with some good force) with Jongdae’s thigh.

 

“Not my thigh!” Jongdae yelled and slapped Baekhyun’s . “Scooch over, I wanna cuddle,”

 

“No, off,” Baekhyun began, but Jongdae squeezed himself between Baekhyun and his bed, and put his arm on Baekhyun’s stomach.

 

“Good morning, beautiful,”

 

“Am I?”

 

“No, you smell like — as all people do when they wake up, don’t take it personally — and look like , but at least you’re consistent, it matches your life.”

 

Baekhyun grunted. That sounded about right. “Why not your thigh? Should I have kicked your face?”

 

“My thigh is close to my ,” was Jongdae’s (not so unreasonable) reason.

 

“Is your mother okay?” Baekhyun asked. He was starting to feel sleepy again. The floor wasn’t that bad, since he had no wish, and therefore no energy, to get back to his bed. And Jongdae was warm and — not that Baekhyun would ever admit it — supportive against his back, so the faster he got Jongdae to tell what he wanted and get it out of the way, the better chance he had to (hopefully) go back to his lovely dream (of two seas coming together).

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Your father and your sister?”

 

“All of my family members are alive, breathing, walking, talking, and generally doing stuff that we call ‘living,’” 

 

“Your stupid cat is still alive?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Just checking. Is anyone bothering you?”

 

“ You’re bothering me by turning into a hermit. What’s with you?”

 

Baekhyun wanted to kick him again. “You come to my — you break into my home at five in the morning —”

 

“It’s ten,”

 

“— and make me my pants —”

 

“I smell no ,”

 

“ — I have suffered great injuries from my fall, so I thought something must be wrong,” Baekhyun finished, smiling despite himself (and his wish to die and become a ghost and haunt people).

 

“I miss you,” Jongdae said, suddenly all serious. “All my life, no matter how snobbishly ty the day was, things were kind of okay because you were there. And now we’re in university. We’re finally in our twenties, Baekhyun. Our best days, apparently, if we were to listen to songs and poems and books and every single person over the age of forty. And now you’re not there, and that’s not okay, okay?” he patted Baekhyun’s stomach.

 

Baekhyun sighed. “I’ll think about it,”

 

“And?”

 

“And I’ll come to whatever you’re planning for the new year. That’s why you’re here, aren’t you? To drag me to some smelly party with drunk and people, who will most definitely puke on my shirt and then punch me.”

 

Jongdae scoffed dramatically, and then scoffed once more before speaking like they were sworn-enemy ajummas in their early fifties. “I’ll have you know, Baekhyun-ssi! My friends are sophisticated, cultured, respectful young adults who bear the weight of the world that is on its last 10 percent charge, working together to bring it back to life so that maybe we don’t end up living in an apocalypse movie because we all know the reality is not going to be bunch of (suspiciously and unrealistically) groomed teenagers blowing up and escaping last minute!

 

“So, no, they’re not going to puke on your and punch you — they’ll just puke on your shirt and pass out, like a normal person.”

 

“I hate you so much,” Baekhyun giggled.

 

“I brought you some donuts from Kyungsoo’s place. And coffee, and he put in those little red candies you like so much,”

 

“I love you,”

 

Jongdae kissed Baekhyun’s cheek. No, scratch that, he pretty much it, like a dog.

 

“Eaaaagh!” Baekhyun tried to elbow Jongdae in the stomach, but the cheek-er wrapped his arm tightly around him, his body shaking from laughter. 

 

“He’s looking forward to seeing you up and out again, you know? And you should be glad I did this. Imagine what Kyungsoo would have done.”

 

Baekhyun shuddered, he didn’t even want to think about it. “Aren’t you scared that I’ll charm my way into your friends’ hearts and steal them away from you?”

 

“By all means,” Jongdae said, and Baekhyun could just hear his big goofy smile. “Go ahead.”

 

 

 

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Welp, turns out, I'm still alive. Would love to say that it was a pleasure to write this, but, really it was just a day of doing everything but writing, hoping these conversations would leave my head — they didn't, as you can see ^^

Imma sleep now, and will put out the next chapter when I wake up. Don't worry, it's already written.