Irene stared at the cellphone on the dresser next to the bed, facing downward. It had been like this for quite some time, her only gathering the courage and contemplating what she should do.

More than anyone else, she knew that delaying the courage would only prolong the inevitable if she didn't take action. It was past time for them to talk, and dealing with her struggles alone was becoming increasingly suffocating. But just the thought of hearing Sehun's voice on the other end of the line scared her.

She knew she couldn't bring herself to call off the wedding. It was selfish, too much so. She lacked the courage to let him go, let alone the desire to do so. The idea of him moving on with his life alone felt like a shot to the chest. The thought of him with someone else suffocated her. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Why was she so foolish?

Why couldn't she be content marrying a man who loved her, who had loved her for so long?

It felt like marriage was becoming a noose around her neck, tying her to a life she wasn't sure she could handle. A normal house, a normal husband, a normal job – submitting to Sehun as a good traditional wife with kids around the fireplace at Christmas. Could she be content with such a life? Lose her freedom?

Could she endure it?

She didn't want to go back to who she used to be.

The ordinary girl from the boarding school, following her parents' common rules, adhering to the Church and God's will. It was all so exhausting, and she felt like she was walking into a trap if she returned to being that girl. She wouldn't submit to it again. But her family would force her into it.

She knew Sehun wasn't that rigid, but he was still a man. And men weren't that different when it came to marriages, especially because his mother despised her and would demand that she acted like "a real woman." She knew it would be like that. She would have to give up cosplay, become an exemplary housewife, washing and cooking dinner for a square family while her husband worked all day.

Just the thought made her want to vomit.

Irene still wanted to see more of the world. She wanted to find herself before being found. Maybe go to college or spend time in Japan working on cosplay. There were so many things she could still do, and all these possibilities both excited and terrified her. Two sides of herself that she didn't understand and might never understand.

She was afraid, of course. But more than that, she didn't want to end up like other women. She didn't want to trade her life of possibilities for a domestic life full of rules, having to assume "womanly duties" like her friends did. She always said that if she were to agree to marry Sehun, she would take the plunge without thinking. But now, the two steps seemed too big.

Irene sighed.

It was pointless to keep thinking and thinking, leaving her fiancé even more nervous with her delay. If they were going to resolve this, they should do it quickly.

Damn, was she really thinking about ending it?

Maybe it would be worth it.

Maybe submitting to a routine life wouldn't be so bad. There would be love, right? And isn't that what matters?

She glanced at the phone again. It felt like the iron machine was judging her the same way she judged herself. There couldn't be anyone in the world who thought she was as foolish as she thought of herself. Maybe she really should let Sehun go; he was too good for her. Perhaps she didn't deserve him. Maybe he should find someone else who could make him happy, give him beautiful children, without so many crises about herself and the bonus of a dysfunctional family. Maybe he should just move on.

God, she was so complicated.

Irene huffed, finally picking up the phone. She was tired of deceiving herself; sooner or later, they would have to talk. Baekhyun was right. Procrastination wouldn't help; someone would end up hurt more than necessary.

But she wished things were easier. She wanted to explain her heart to Sehun without seeming selfish or petty. She wanted to be less childish and face a new phase of her life, taking risks and responsibilities.

But she wasn't sure if she could do all that.

She was about to go to the contacts tab and dial his number when the gallery icon tempted her. She knew she would probably regret the decision, but still, she opened the folder with various albums separated by events. It was in the camera roll that she saw the numerous photos that warmed her heart.

Photos from her cosplay events, Yeri on her skateboard, pictures with Luna, her father's cat, and some with Baekhyun. But most were of Sehun. Pictures of his furrowed brow, old photos of them as teenagers, one from the day they were at the arcade and she was asked out while the Pac-Man set a new record (one of the best memories she had), others from their dates, some of them together at tourist spots, pictures of Sehun smiling broadly at her, and even some of his shoulders (which she didn't show to anyone). And finally, her favorite: Sehun making the classic Sailor Moon sign with his hands while trying hard not to laugh.

That was enough to make her start crying.

The memories were so fresh and overwhelming, hitting her like a tsunami wave, as devastating as it could be. She remembered all the moments they had spent together, now hanging in the balance between sweet memories and those that could turn bitter with regret.

She couldn't let that happen.

It was practically a way to find her own death. She knew she wouldn't find anyone else in the world like him, someone who understood and could love her with the same intensity. She was fully aware.

But that wasn't the issue.

The issue was that she would have to make sacrifices for Sehun beyond what she thought was right. If she had to let him go, she would. She would never be the obstacle hindering his path to happiness; she preferred death. If he wanted to have a family, then he should.

She sighed again.

She finally tapped on the contacts tab and dialed his number, when the photo gallery icon lured her again. She knew she would probably regret the decision, but still, she opened the folder with various albums separated by events. It was in the camera roll that she saw the numerous photos that warmed her heart.

Photos from her cosplay events, Yeri on her skateboard, pictures with Luna, her father's cat, and some with Baekhyun. But most were of Sehun. Pictures of his furrowed brow, old photos of them as teenagers, one from the day they were at the arcade and she was asked out while the Pac-Man set a new record (one of the best memories she had), others from their dates, some of them together at tourist spots, pictures of Sehun smiling broadly at her, and even some of his shoulders (which she didn't show to anyone). And finally, her favorite: Sehun making the classic Sailor Moon sign with his hands while trying hard not to laugh.

That was enough to make her start crying.

The memories were so fresh and overwhelming, hitting her like a tsunami wave, as devastating as it could be

. She remembered all the moments they had spent together, now hanging in the balance between sweet memories and those that could turn bitter with regret.

She couldn't let that happen.

It was practically a way to find her own death. She knew she wouldn't find anyone else in the world like him, someone who understood and could love her with the same intensity. She was fully aware.

But that wasn't the issue.

The issue was that she would have to make sacrifices for Sehun beyond what she thought was right. If she had to let him go, she would. She would never be the obstacle hindering his path to happiness; she preferred death. If he wanted to have a family, then he should.

She sighed again.

She finally tapped on the contacts tab and dialed his number when the photo gallery icon lured her again. She knew she would probably regret the decision, but still, she opened the folder with various albums separated by events. It was in the camera roll that she saw the numerous photos that warmed her heart.

Photos from her cosplay events, Yeri on her skateboard, pictures with Luna, her father's cat, and some with Baekhyun. But most were of Sehun. Pictures of his furrowed brow, old photos of them as teenagers, one from the day they were at the arcade and she was asked out while the Pac-Man set a new record (one of the best memories she had), others from their dates, some of them together at tourist spots, pictures of Sehun smiling broadly at her, and even some of his shoulders (which she didn't show to anyone). And finally, her favorite: Sehun making the classic Sailor Moon sign with his hands while trying hard not to laugh.

That was enough to make her start crying.

The memories were so fresh and overwhelming, hitting her like a tsunami wave, as devastating as it could be. She remembered all the moments they had spent together, now hanging in the balance between sweet memories and those that could turn bitter with regret.

She couldn't let that happen.

It was practically a way to find her own death. She knew she wouldn't find anyone else in the world like him, someone who understood and could love her with the same intensity. She was fully aware.

But that wasn't the issue.

The issue was that she would have to make sacrifices for Sehun beyond what she thought was right. If she had to let him go, she would. She would never be the obstacle hindering his path to happiness; she preferred death. If he wanted to have a family, then he should.

She sighed again.

She finally tapped on the contacts tab and dialed his number when the photo gallery icon lured her again. She knew she would probably regret the decision, but still, she opened the folder with various albums separated by events. It was in the camera roll that she saw the numerous photos that warmed her heart.

Photos from her cosplay events, Yeri on her skateboard, pictures with Luna, her father's cat, and some with Baekhyun. But most were of Sehun. Pictures of his furrowed brow, old photos of them as teenagers, one from the day they were at the arcade and she was asked out while the Pac-Man set a new record (one of the best memories she had), others from their dates, some of them together at tourist spots, pictures of Sehun smiling broadly at her, and even some of his shoulders (which she didn't show to anyone). And finally, her favorite: Sehun making the classic Sailor Moon sign with his hands while trying hard not to laugh.

That was enough to make her start crying.

The memories were so fresh and overwhelming, hitting her like a tsunami wave, as devastating as it could be. She remembered all the moments they had spent together, now hanging in the balance between sweet memories and those that could turn bitter with regret.

She couldn't let that happen.

It was practically a way to find her own death. She knew she wouldn't find anyone else in the world like him, someone who understood and could love her with the same intensity. She was fully aware.

But that wasn't the issue.

The issue was that she would have to make sacrifices for Sehun beyond what she thought was right. If she had to let him go, she would. She would never be the obstacle hindering his path to happiness; she preferred death. If he wanted to have a family, then he should.

She sighed again.

She finally tapped on the contacts tab and dialed his number, when the photo gallery icon lured her again. She knew she would probably regret the decision, but still, she opened the folder with various albums separated by events. It was in the camera roll that she saw the numerous photos that warmed her heart.

Photos from her cosplay events, Yeri on her skateboard, pictures with Luna, her father's cat, and some with Baekhyun. But most were of Sehun. Pictures of his furrowed brow, old photos of them as teenagers, one from the day they were at the arcade and she was asked out while the Pac-Man set a new record (one of the best memories she had), others from their dates, some of them together at tourist spots, pictures of Sehun smiling broadly at her, and even some of his shoulders (which she didn't show to anyone). And finally, her favorite: Sehun making the classic Sailor Moon sign with his hands while trying hard not to laugh.

That was enough to make her start crying.

The memories were so fresh and overwhelming, hitting her like a tsunami wave, as devastating as it could be. She remembered all the moments they had spent together, now hanging in the balance between sweet memories and those that could turn bitter with regret.

She couldn't let that happen.

It was practically a way to find her own death. She knew she wouldn't find anyone else in the world like him, someone who understood and could love her with the same intensity. She was fully aware.

But that wasn't the issue.

The issue was that she would have to make sacrifices for Sehun beyond what she thought was right. If she had to let him go, she would. She would never be the obstacle hindering his path to happiness; she preferred death. If he wanted to have a family, then he should.

She sighed again.

She finally tapped on the contacts tab and dialed his number when the photo gallery icon lured her again. She knew she would probably regret the decision, but still, she opened the folder with various albums separated by events. It was in the camera roll that she saw the numerous photos that warmed her heart.

Photos from her cosplay events, Yeri on her skateboard, pictures with Luna, her father's cat, and some with Baekhyun. But most were of Sehun. Pictures of his furrowed brow, old photos of them as teenagers, one from the day they were at the arcade and she was asked out while the Pac-Man set a new record (one of the best memories she had), others from their dates, some of them together at tourist spots, pictures of Sehun smiling broadly at her, and even some of his shoulders (which she didn't show to anyone). And finally, her favorite: Sehun making the classic Sailor Moon sign with his hands while trying hard not to laugh.

That was enough to make her start crying.

The memories were so fresh and overwhelming, hitting her like a tsunami wave crashing over her, as devastating as it could be. She recalled every moment they had shared, now hanging in the balance between memories that could be sweet or turn bitter with regret.

She couldn't let that happen.

It was almost a way to find her own death. Irene knew she wouldn't find anyone else in the world like him, someone who understood and loved her with the same intensity. She was fully aware of it.

But that wasn't the issue.

The real question was that she would have to make sacrifices for Sehun, beyond what she considered right. If she had to let him go, she would. She would never be the obstacle hindering his path to happiness; she would prefer death. If he wanted a family, then he should have it.

She sighed again.

Finally, she tapped on the contacts icon and dialed his number, thinking that doing so would give her the courage to make the call without turning back. The name "Hunnie" appeared on the screen, indicating that the call was in progress.

The phone rang several times before going to voicemail.

Confusion set in. Something seemed off. Was he still asleep? He always seemed exhausted from his number-filled job, so it was understandable if he was sleeping like a rock, as he often did.

She sighed, tired.

It wasn't easy summoning the courage alone, and now she had to do it again. She didn't know if she could bring herself to call him again.

The phone kept ringing until there was finally a response:

"Uh, hello?" The voice was softer than Sehun's.

Irene furrowed her brow. She didn't recognize the person on the other end, making it quite strange. Sehun never let anyone else answer his phone.

"Who's speaking?" she asked, curious.

"Kim Junmyeon." Who on earth was this guy?

"And where's Sehun?" She didn't say it rudely; in fact, she was a bit anxious.

Perhaps the guy sensed that because he spoke with caution.

"Oh, he went to the bathroom and left his phone with me. Needed to, uh, get juice off his shirt... I don't know if it'll help much." Juice on the shirt? What on earth was happening?

"I called Oh Sehun, right? The tall and handsome programmer?"

"What?" The guy laughed. "Yes, yes. It's his phone."

"What's the deal with the juice?" Maybe she shouldn't ask something so silly, but she was curious.

She pictured him struggling with the situation and smiled at the mental image.

"One of the kids spilled juice while running and accidentally bumped into him. Unfortunately, it was grape-flavored. It was a total mess." Kids? Now things were getting weirder.

"Hold on... Kids?" This was in the plural.

Couldn't be good.

"Oh... yeah... from the Seoul Kindergarten?" But what?

"Man, this makes no sense. Who are you?"

"Who are you? Maybe I should let Sehun know instead of us chatting here." He chuckled lightly, seeming to enjoy himself at Irene's expense.

Great, now she was the crazy one again.

But he had a point.

"Hm, true. Um... you know what? Just tell him to call me back."

"What's your name?"

"Irene. I'm his fiancée."

The room still had a bit of dust from underuse, but it was perfect nonetheless. As if it had been made for her. The small easels were organized in rows of 4 and columns of 5, totaling 20 little future painters.

She smiled.

Perhaps she was a bit too optimistic, but she couldn't help it. Chen was excited about the new opportunity she had received at the Seoul Kindergarten, finally being able to teach art to children the way she had always dreamed: with paints and splatters on clothes, and maybe even a few on the floor. She was already envisioning the scenario of the mess her little ones would make.

Her little ones.

She smiled at the thought.

It felt so light to refer to them that way, as hers. She was sure they would create a special bond, and she was determined to make it happen. Her biggest dream was to be an inspiration to someone, to inspire goodness in people like an energy that made them more loving and empathetic towards each other. The world was already full of chaos; it didn't need more negativity. She was a total enthusiast of good vibes. Her brother Kai used to , saying she should become some kind of monk or something. But that's how she wanted to live her life: with positive energies vibrating in the air, and she had a hypothesis that art could be a path for that.

She always poured her heart into things as if she were transferring everything she wanted to say to the world onto the paper, like: "Hey, your giant blue ball! I am here, and I will make it worthwhile." And she would.

Suddenly, the door opened, snapping her out of her daydreams. It revealed a short guy with huge glasses. He entered a bit awkwardly, adjusting the middle path that connected his two large vision spheres. Wow. She had no idea people still wore those types of glasses; they covered a good part of his cheeks. In a way, Chen thought, he looked kinda cute like that.

"Hello. Are you the new teacher? I see you're already getting acquainted with the new room." He smiled friendly at her.

Well, maybe the little turtle was friendly after all. Chen returned the smile brightly.

"Yes, I am. My name is Kim-Li Chen. Pleasure." She made a polite bow, which was also returned to her.

"Pleasure, Miss Kim-Li. I'm Kim Junmyeon." Another Kim? She smiled at the irony.

Junmyeon probably should be Korean, but she wasn't.

Chen was a mess.

Her father was American. Well, half-American. Actually, he had roots in China as well. Her mother was Sino-Korean, the daughter of a Chinese father and a Korean mother. Chen was born in Canada, so naturally, she was Canadian. But there was still the issue of her Sino-Korean name, another one of those hyphenated names. Hyphenated names always left you confused because it felt like you were half and half. And the thing about being half and half is that you never would be a whole.

Chen wanted to be a whole.

"Pleasure to meet you, Kim Junmyeon." She was smiling a bit more than usual.

The short guy reciprocated. She liked him right away.

"Should I show you around the room? Or have you already familiarized yourself on a spiritual level?" She was definitely spiritually familiarized.

Even though the room had a bit of dust, the atmosphere was cozy and gentle. Of course, there was the work of the sun coming from outside that made the environment quite magical, but she thought spending afternoons in that room would be a lot of fun. Maybe she could even start drawing again herself. Chen sighed, trying to cut through the melancholic air. She wouldn't think about it now. She had a joyful and important first class to give.

"I think this room will be the best thing. It's very inspiring."

"I'm glad you think so; we finally got it reopened. It's been a while since we needed an art teacher. Although Luhan is great, she's not very good with paints and charcoals." The guy smiled with affection.

Chen thought that Luhan, whoever she was, probably stumbled with brushes from time to time. Something she also had trouble with when she started; it required practice.

"I think I can be good, though." She laughed. "Just don't put me near watercolors. I'm really terrible with them."

"Don't worry. I'll take all of them out of stock." They both laughed at the conversation they were having.

Junmyeon seemed like a kind and understanding person. She hoped they could become good friends in the future.

"Maybe I should introduce you to the faculty before the children? You're not the only new one here this year."

"You don't know how good it is to hear that! It's kind of scary being the newcomer."

"Some traumas never leave us, right?"

"High school never ends." She smiled, and he did too.

The guy had an easy smile, just like her. He was the kind of person you could see was kind just by looking at him. His eyes smiled along with his lips and only emphasized that he was incredibly handsome. Especially when he smiled. Chen thought the teacher probably stole many people's hearts.

"For sure. But we can still have our comforts."

"Maybe you want to follow me to the principal's office? It's upstairs. We have some teachers waiting."

"Sure, no problem."

They walked down the hallway to the stairs, heading towards the office. There were some posters of children hanging, which made Chen smile. It was always inspiring to try to understand the minds of little ones. Like, why didn't they care that people could have blue skin in drawings? And most importantly, why did we stop not caring? It seemed that being an adult meant seeing things from the outside, rather than from their interior. It was like that eternal metaphor of judging a book by its cover.

Chen hated covers.

Junmyeon opened the door, inviting her to come in. It was a very simple room, full of neutral colors. The white walls seemed even more lifeless with the few black and white photographs. Chen couldn't help it; she always noticed these things. For her, the decoration of the environment was crucial for the kind of energy that would be in the place. She thought that maybe, over time, she could add some color to the small room. She felt a bit crazy, already planning to change several things when she had just arrived. But for her, it was essential that the environment made her comfortable; it was as if everything reflected in how she felt. Maybe she was a bit sensitive, and so on.

One by one, the teachers stood up, greeting her with bows and friendly smiles. One, in particular, was very beautiful, like a model. She wore one of those caps on her long white hair, like some kind of modern elf. God, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Chen didn't think there was anyone in the whole world as beautiful as her. She felt a bit shy because she always wore somewhat childish clothes, which she considered "kawaii," so she didn't care much. But the other girl did. She was totally into fashion, you could tell. She seemed like those girls on TV, with perfect hair and a perfect face. Chen began to feel stupid next to her.

"Hello. Welcome; I'm Luhan. I think we'll be working together."

Luhan smiled at her, as if she was willing to make friends. Her voice was lyrical, as her whole being probably was. But Chen just wanted to run and hide. She felt ridiculous. How could she even stay in the same place as that girl?

When she looked at her closely, she was surprised. She knew the girl. She was the one who sang at her brother's bar from time to time. The teacher tried to maintain composure, but it was difficult. She was a bit shocked that her idol would be working with her from now on. Chen smiled at her but didn't say anything. She couldn't even pronounce any words, whether Korean or Chinese; since the girl would probably understand her, being Chinese. Even though it was a bit difficult to deduce, her accent was well-camouflaged.

Junmyeon started talking about how they would divide the schedules now that they had one more art class instead of just one. It would be her and Luhan sharing the time. Chen would teach visual arts, and Luhan, music. It would be perfect. Even. If she wasn't extremely nervous.

"You two can talk and see how it will be better to divide. But I'd like the final reports to be done separately, one for each subject." That really made sense.

Chen ended up glancing at Luhan, who was unabashedly looking at her, smiling. She didn't seem to have any restrictions regarding Chen, which only made her realize that maybe her enchantment was one-sided.

And that was sad.

Luhan approached, speaking softly not to disturb Junmyeon's explanations.

"Can you stay a little after the end? I think we could start planning everything. You know... how we're going to deal with the differences and such."

"O-okay."

"I'm glad you chose to come here. You don't know how crazy I was with all that painting stuff. Thanks a lot." She was using informal language with her, and that was very weird.

Even for Chen, who was Canadian. Nobody had the habit of using this kind of expression with someone you just met, even if the person is a foreigner. Luhan was a peculiar person.

Junmyeon was already finishing talking, giving his final details. He was a great leader there, always making sure everyone agreed with his ideas for future events or pedagogical psychology. He was extremely intelligent, which made Chen think that she would learn a lot there, more than anything else.

"I have to go back and see how the programmer is doing. So, please, discuss whatever you feel you still need to discuss. And update me later, alright?"

"Yes." They answered in unison, making the coordinator laugh.

Alright, how polite he was.

"Yes, he is." Chen turned startled to the girl next to her.

She hadn't realized that she had spoken aloud.

"Sorry, I didn't notice." Luhan laughed softly, adjusting some strands of her hair.

"It's alright, Chen." The other looked away from the Chinese girl's inspection. She was already feeling shyer than before. "How are we going to split everything? I prefer to take the Friday classes, if you don't mind."

"For me, it's fine." Kim knew the reason.

Luhan would arrive tired on Mondays, after the weekend concerts. It was kind of obvious that she would prefer Fridays. But she didn't mind much, as long as she could be in the room. It was enough.

"You know, I liked your bag. Rilakkuma is really cute."

"Ah, thank you!" She didn't know if the girl was saying that to start a conversation or if she was sincere.

She preferred to believe that she was sincere. Luhan was extremely fashionable; there was no way she would like that little bag.

"I know what you're thinking. Stop it; don't be embarrassed by the compliment I gave you. It's true. I swear." Chen smiled.

She was very perceptive.

"I'm sorry for that. But it's just that you are so fashionable..."

"This is all my friend's doing. He's a lover of non-fashion fashion." Luhan smiled. "Or maybe he's just an idiot with good taste." Now both were laughing.

"He really nailed it. You look stunning." It wasn't her intention to say that, but it just came out.

But it was nothing but the truth.

"Thank you, Chen." The girl smiled at her, almost blinding her with so much brightness.

It seemed like she was getting more beautiful every hour.

"I think we can organize the classes to be in pairs? What do you think?"

"All the classes?"

"I-if you w-want."

"Of course, it will be a pleasure. We can do it together. If you want..." She took a small notebook from her pocket. It was beautiful, purple with some roses decorated in gold. Luhan opened it on the opposite side and wrote something on the paper before tearing it. "You can send me your ideas through KakaoTalk. It will be nice."

Chen accepted the paper with her heart beating very hard. Not in a million years would she believe that everything that was happening to her now had actually happened.

Had she just received her idol's phone number?

The shirt had been a nightmare to clean, but Sehun had finally managed to turn the stain into a shade of lavender. Or maybe plum? He would have to review the color names on the chart again; he was getting rusty.

The story was a bit funny, if he were some kind of masochist.

A little boy was running with the juice box from one side to the other. Illegally running from side to side, as he had warned several times that the little one shouldn't do that. But he only got a tongue in response.

Children could be quite childish.

So he had the brilliant idea of stopping him abruptly, hiding to catch him in the act. But the opposite happened. As soon as he found the little one on the other side of the room, they collided, causing the damn juice box to spill directly on his shirt. At first, it looked like a stain from those psychological tests. But then it started to get gross, full of sugar, stickiness, and sweat. Not good at all. So there he was, trying to wash the stained white shirt in the bathroom of an Elementary School. Really a place he never imagined.

All of this made him reflect a lot on the behavior of little human beings. He had realized that perhaps children were really like some kind of ninja, or they had powers that were beyond his understanding. Many of them changed places all the time, as if they teleported here and there. Which made no sense at all.

Was it physically impossible, right?

According to his calculations, there were energy peaks in relation to the time that passed. Or was it the sugar from the Sablés passing through their blood (he himself felt a bit agitated). In fact, he had no idea what it could be. But he knew that it wasn't supposed to be normal. It seemed that the energy was in an infinite loop, constantly being reused.

Einstein would be jealous.

He didn't realize when the bathroom door opened, but he saw Junmyeon entering the place. He was laughing at him. A lot. But as soon as he noticed his condition, he became a bit quieter. And red? Why would he be red?

"Do you... uh, don't you have any other shirt?" He asked with a different tone in his voice.

Sehun frowned.

He didn't understand.

"No. Unfortunately, I'm not prepared. That's my roommate Baekhyun's function." He smiled.

He was already missing the short one.

"So... what are you going to do? I mean... you can't teach... uh... without... the shirt." Sehun looked at his bare chest, confused.

The teacher was right. How had he not foreseen that his shirt wouldn't dry in time for the second class? His reasoning had betrayed him this time.

"Darn it, you're absolutely right."

"I can try to lend you some, Sehun, but I don't know if it will fit." The programmer looked at Junmyeon.

It was, at the very least, 5 times smaller than him.

No, it wouldn't fit.

"But damn it!" Junmyeon laughed at his indignation.

Which ended up making Sehun involuntarily smile amid the chaos. It seemed that things lately were heading for this: chaos. The taller one sighed, sitting on the toilet. He was tired of everything, having to deal with tsunamis and more tsunamis. His project was delayed, his boss sent him at least 20 emails a day asking about his progress. He had a fiancée who didn't want to get married, and on top of that, he was starting to get white hairs! The grape juice incident had only contributed to the wave of hopelessness hitting him.

Times were darker than ever.

Junmyeon stopped by his side, offering some comfort with a few pats on the shoulder. He seemed so wise, looking at him as if he knew about everything that bothered him or could disturb him. He used to be that person for Baekhyun, but until then, he never thought he would need someone to play that role for him.

"You know. Life can sometimes be a pain in the . But it's important that we know how to kick it from time to time." Sehun smiled.

"Do you think I should kick someone's today?"

"That's not what I meant." The other smiled. "It's just that... we all have problems. Some harder to solve than others, but all equally screwed up. You can choose to be a person who faces them, or the person who lets them face you. Or you can just kick your balls."

"Maybe the problems I have to kick don't have balls." He said, sadly.

There was always her to haunt him. He couldn't think of anything else.

"In that case, you can only face it." The problem was that it wasn't his role, but Irene's.

Sehun knew that saying this wouldn't do any good. The teacher was just being kind to help him.

"Oh, I almost forgot! A girl called you, saying something about needing to talk to you."

"Oh." Junmyeon handed him the phone, returning it to Sehun.

"I think her name was Irene...? Or something like that."

"What?" He looked desperate at the screen, unlocking and opening the contacts tab. His eyes widened when he read the name written in the last calls section.

Apparently, his problem had come to face him.

He just hoped it wouldn't involve a kick in the balls.

Baekhyun was already tired. It was almost 6 PM, and there was still a lot of time until the restaurant closed. At the very least, he thought, he would have to wash another bunch of dishes and help with more dishes. Even Minseok was helping this time, due to the low activity in the bar. It seemed like some holiday or something; he had never seen the restaurant so crowded.

He had stopped for a while in the alley outside to catch some air and compose himself. It wasn't easy to move all the time, especially with the energy that Dyo's demanded him to spend. It was as if he were running a kitchen marathon, and the winner was the one who could deliver more dishes on time. Kyungsoo shouted orders from all sides. He had become the annoying chef again. Byun realized that he didn't have much control over himself when he got nervous. And that was terrible because he became extremely idiotic.

He couldn't bear the curses anymore and was about to retort one of them, but Minseok had stopped him. He was on the verge of flying at the little Satan again.

Maybe he needed a cigarette now. At this exact moment. If God made Kim Minseok...

The door opened, making him look back. Wow, what timing.

"Baekkie... can you come back? Our favorite chef is shouting, looking for you everywhere."

"That guy is a joke! Does he think he can just be an idiot with everyone, and it's okay?"

"Well... that's exactly what he thinks." Minseok laughed, amused. "He's a chef. Chefs live to torment our lives. It's where they get their life energy."

"Well, he can go from another place that has much more energy. Like souls in hell, for example." Minseok laughed again before pulling out one of the almost empty mint Marlboros from his pocket. He lit it and took a deep drag. The way he did it was like watching one of those rebellious boys from alternative movies: neck lifted, head thrown back. The smoke found its way through his neck, ending up a little in Baekhyun's nostrils, who coughed with the unwelcome sting.

Minseok laughed.

"You've never smoked in your entire life?" he asked, curious.

"No. But I'd give a good price for one of those if you want to help me." The bartender raised an eyebrow at him, as a challenge.

"Then I want to see." He took out another cigarette from the almost empty pack, and swung it between his fingers, smiling mischievously. Okay. Maybe he shouldn't have asked for that.

Minseok approached, taking his hand to handle the cigarette.

"First, you'll want to pop the flavor bead." He squeezed their fingers together, as if Baekhyun were a child. His voice was moderate, neither too low nor too high. Just right. And that was horrible. "Then you put it in your mouth." His fingers moved to his lips, touching the filter and holding it tightly. Minseok was looking at him with seriousness in his eyes. He had never seen him like this before. It seemed like he wanted to say something.

He smiled before continuing.

"Now let's light it up." He took out the lighter, releasing the fire at the tip of the cigarette. It was already lit, but Baekhyun still hadn't done anything. He awaited orders from the bartender like a child. "You can take a drag now, Baekkie. The first time is never good."

Baekhyun tried to do what he thought was inhaling and the end of the cigarette, feeling the strong mint smoke pass inside his mouth. He coughed. Of course, he would cough. It was hot, and it was smoke. Things he never thought could be inhaled willingly.

Minseok helped him recover, giving him some pats and letting the air flow freely between them. Baekhyun had tears in his eyes when he came to.

"How do you manage this?" he asked. The other smiled at his question, as if it were something cute. He was giving him the cute look again.

"I've been smoking since adolescence. So I had years to get used to it. If you want, I can teach you a trick or two tomorrow."

Tomorrow?

Oh God! He had already forgotten. They were meeting tomorrow morning for the classes.

"Right! You're coming to my place tomorrow."

"You saying it like that even makes me happy, you know?" He was teasing him again. Basically lived on his teasing.

"Listen, Minseok."

"Call me Min, Baekkie. You know I don't give a damn about formalities." Oh, but he cared. A lot. He knew that if he gave this kind of opening, the bartender would take advantage. That's exactly what he was waiting for.

"Look. It would be better if you came a little earlier. As I said, 8 AM would be fine. We can make our lunch right there. But there's a detail: I still don't have a car. We'll have to come by subway..."

"I have a motorcycle. I can give you a helmet." Him. On a motorcycle? No way.

"Uh, okay, let's... let's talk about that later." Minseok laughed loudly, throwing his head back.

"Are you scared, Byun?" Of course, he was scared!

"Fear? Pff, please."

"So what do you say? Can I take you on my motorcycle today? You can start getting used to the adrenaline." What a bastard! Baekhyun was thinking of a good argument to divert this crazy idea from the bartender's mind when the door opened again, revealing a nuclear Kyungsoo.

"What are you doing here? Is it 5 PM tea time? Get back to the kitchen!" He was yelling again. Baekhyun held back the urge to roll his eyes. Minseok went first, bowing and muttering apologies. Of course, they weren't right spending so much time there. But Kyungsoo didn't need to open his throat like that.

The short one was passing through the door when the chef grabbed him by the arm.

"You. You come with me." He pulled him, now by the hand, towards the familiar pantry. Oh no, here he goes again.

Why did things have to be so difficult for Baekhyun?

Kyungsoo was seeing red everywhere. He really wanted to punch someone. Someone who was his male progenitor. In this case, his father.

He was so stressed out about this whole dinner story that he ended up having a breakdown. And he couldn't control the anger he felt.

The time had changed to 6:30 PM. It left him only a few minutes to get to the mansion. On the other side of the city. Of course, he would be late. That's what he wanted, the damn corporate.

As soon as he entered the pantry, he released Baekhyun by the hand, who stood still in the center of the small room waiting for him. The chef was trying to compose himself, but the anger was still constant like a fever that wouldn't go away.

He didn't see what, not even when or why he had the sudden impulse, but when he realized it, he had already punched something. Maybe a bag? He didn't know. He didn't care.

He just kept punching it as if it were one of those bloodied fighters on television. He punched so hard that it ended up bursting. Needle-like rice grains were now scattered on the cold room floor.

Kyungsoo was breathing as if he had run a marathon. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to stop. He had to stop trying to please everyone because he would end up killing himself in search of acceptance.

He wasn't the perfect son. And he never would be.

And his father didn't even care about that.

He felt warm hands land on his shoulders, in a light grip. He didn't realize when he was crying, but he ended up collapsing into someone's arms. Into his arms. His pastry chef.

He cried a little too hard for someone who never cried. He had been crying a lot more than before. The tightness was worse, gradually increasing with his stress level. He knew the outbreak was coming, but he wanted to hold on so that it would make its little show at his home. Not in the restaurant. Much less in front of an employee.

And now he was crying in his arms, who kept telling him that everything would be okay. But nothing would be okay.

Nothing had been okay for a while.

"Try to hold and release your breath, Soo. You need to breathe." The voice was gentle. Like those calm waters at night. Only the sound of the voice could calm him for a moment. "Count with me: breathe. 1. 2. 3. Inhale. 1. 2. 3. Exhale." He continued with the exercises, and Kyungsoo just followed him. Breathing and inhaling. Breathing and inhaling. He was focused on just doing that.

It ended up working because after a while, he was already getting better.

"Do you want to sit down?" He was still being kind. The bald one wanted to cry again. He had been an idiot with him all day, and still, he was the only one helping him. He didn't deserve Baekhyun. He didn't even deserve to be near him. He was too good a person for him.

"Baekhyun... why are you still here?" His question was a bit painful. He didn't know if he wanted to know the answer. As far as he knew, Byun could just be waiting for a decent dismissal from him. He could ask him for that right now, and Kyungsoo would give it to him. Because he deserved more. Much more than he could offer.

"I... uh. Work here. It's where I am now." It wasn't a very revealing answer, but he supposed that Baekhyun wasn't a revealing person either. So it was something he should expect from him. But he didn't want to wait. He wanted him to tell him in plain words why he insisted so much on a restaurant that had no place for him.

He thought that maybe Byun Baekhyun was a stronger person than he knew.

"Why do you... why did you call me here, chef?" Kyungsoo took a deep breath again. Gathering the courage to ask him a favor.

"I'll need to leave early today. So, I need you to be the chef until the restaurant closes." He was quite surprised, you could tell.

"What? You want me to what?"

"That you do me a favor."

"What are you going to do?" His question caught him off guard. He didn't expect him to be curious about him, but that's exactly what he was showing.

"I have an important business to close, so I'm a little nervous." He lied to him. He knew it could be immoral, but he couldn't bear to reveal his layers at that moment. Not now, maybe not ever. The pastry chef didn't deserve to deal with all his problems; he had nothing to do with it.

But Baekhyun approached, with a small smile on his face. He put his hand on his shoulder, giving some comfort as he descended it to a part of his arm. He looked at him as if he wanted to make sure the chef listened to him.

"You'll make it, Kyungsoo. You're a very smart man." The other was surprised. He would never imagine that he would say that to him one day, of all people. He was looking for some hint of sarcasm in his voice, but he found none.

"Do you really think so?" He murmured quietly. After all that scene, the boy must think that the business was extremely important to the restaurant. Couldn't be more wrong.

"Are you kidding? Look at this restaurant! You practically run it alone every day. And it's still open, isn't it? You know how hard it is to keep businesses open nowadays? And still with cultural influence? You should be proud of yourself, Kyungsoo." He stared at him, static. Words had never hit him so hard in the chest like those.

Chanyeol always told him that, but he thought maybe it was because they were best friends. So, of course, he would admire him or support him.

But Baekhyun didn't. He didn't even know him that well.

He was so amazed by what he had heard that he just acted without thinking. Again. It seemed that this always happened near the redhead, becoming more and more frequent.

He pulled Baekhyun into his arms, hugging him maybe a little too hard. The other made a surprised sound, as if he didn't expect that from his boss. And, well, Kyungsoo didn't expect it either. But the hug was more like a thank you.

When he realized it, he separated from him in a shock. Baekhyun still had slightly wide eyes, and he scratched his hair, nervous.

"T-thank you for that, Baekhyun. I... uh, usually don't..."

"It's okay, I understand." Kyungsoo sighed, shaking his head. What was he doing now? He didn't even know what to do. His actions and emotions were all mixed up and confusing. He didn't feel like himself.

"I-I... uh, you should... you should go." Baekhyun approached, on his way to the door. But before crossing it completely, he turned back, looking at him.

"Look, chef, I know it's not in my power to say this. But... take it easy. Don't go around stressing about what's not worth it. You have a great restaurant. And, even though it's well... uh, nervous sometimes... you're a great chef. Try to remember that." They stood still for a few seconds, looking at each other. Kyungsoo, too shocked to say anything to him. And Baekhyun, shocked for saying too much.

Even in that aspect, Do Kyungsoo thought, they contrasted.