Part III: The Study of Attitudes

When Baekhyun comes across the third person that week who’d flinched at the mention of Hwang Chisoo’s name, he knows something is wrong. Something has to be happening. Just like it had two years ago, when his brother had gotten caught up with the wrong people and been killed and Baekhyun had watched and been unable to help and woken up with the power to stop it too late.

“Who is he?” His voice sounds detached from his body. “Where the hell is he?”

Unlike the rest, who had cowered at the name and denied knowledge, this man bars blood-stained teeth at him in a smile. “You’ve caught his attention,” he says. “Should’ve stayed put.”

He bites down on something with a crack. Ten seconds later, the man spits blood on Baekhyun’s suit and drops dead on the ground.

He’s not sure if he’s shaking out of frustration or anger or fear. All of a sudden, the suit is suffocating him, and the leather clings to his skin in a way that makes it impossible to breathe. Baekhyun counts to five, inhales, exhales, inhales—

“Who is Hwang Chisoo?”

He turns around so fast that he nearly gets whiplash. Elektra stands a few feet away. Baekhyun isn’t sure if she was too silent for him to hear, or if he’s so unnerved he’d tuned her footsteps out.

“None of your business,” he manages out, thankful his voice comes out steady.

“So this is about revenge?”

In. Out. “What did you think it was about?”

“Revenge doesn’t solve anything.”

“Yeah?” He takes a step forward. “I’m glad you’re having a splendid time in your happy-go-lucky world playing hero. I’m not interested, so count me out.”

He leaves this time, mostly because he’d been crying under the mask and Baekhyun’s afraid Elektra would be able to tell if he stayed a minute longer.

***

Out of respect for Jongdae’s space, Baekhyun doesn’t invite Eunju over when his roommate is home. His friend’s gone for a week to his hometown, so Eunju visits with a box of cookies at Baekhyun’s promise to cook dinner for her. She has her hair in short braids again, tied with blue and white checkered bows.

It’s the first time she’s been at his place, so he leaves Eunju studying in the living room as he goes to prepare dinner. When he comes back, she’s peering at one of the picture frames propped on the coffee table. Baekhyun knows which one it is without having to see the actual picture.

“Is he your brother?” Eunju asks. “He looks like you.”

Baekhyun swallows. “Was,” he corrects, sitting down next to her on the couch.

There’s a moment of silence. He’s familiar with it; everyone seems to do the same when they offer condolences, and Eunju isn’t any different. “Oh,” she finally manages. “Oh, I-I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It’s two easy words to say, not because it’s the truth but because he’s since memorized the shape of the lie.

Eunju is quiet again. She has her hands on her knees, palms opened upwards so he can see the white scar from pinkie to thumb. She flexes her fingers, closes her fist, then opens them again. In a hesitant voice, she questions, “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

This is a less familiar topic to speak aloud. Baekhyun shifts. Most people shy away the moment they realize his brother’s dead, because it’s an uncomfortable thing to linger on. Jongdae knows he doesn’t like talking about it, so he never pries either.

But Eunju is peering at him earnestly, and that’s one thing he likes most about her: she’s sincere and genuine, which makes talking about this hurt a little less. It also makes him feel ashamed that he can’t provide her a sincere answer back because the best Baekhyun can give her is the same summary the police had given him two years ago. For a moment, he truly does consider telling Eunju. About how he’d seen his brother collapse after the gunshot, the explosion that had been set off, the kinetic energy absorbed and pulsing under his skin after he came back to consciousness. But then the urge fades, the confession dying from his lips, because Baekhyun doesn’t want to ruin anything with Eunju.

“They think he witnessed something at the wrong time,” he tells her, surprised by how calmly his voice drifts out, “and was killed for that. Police still have no idea what criminal organization it was. They stopped investigating a while ago because there were no leads. It’s basically a cold case by now.”

Eunju doesn’t say anything. Instead, she reaches over and wraps her arms around Baekhyun’s neck. He buries his face in her shoulder and blinks fast, because if there’s one thing he’s learned over the past two years, that’s the easiest way to stop the tears.

By the time they both head to the kitchen, dinner has been burned past saving. They end up ordering take-out.

***

Seo Eunju has an abundance of facts about everyday situations, and it’s endearing. Baekhyun likes hearing her point them out; likes hearing her talk about the latest participant she’d run for her study, about how coding and statistics is