Xiumin heaves a hefty sigh as he shuts the front door behind him and leans back against the wood. His shoulders are heavy, stiff like he needs a good message, with the weight of guilt for possibly (although unintentionally) ruining Minseok’s relationship with Lu Han and a newfound hate for his disorder that he hasn’t felt in a long time. There’s no way to apologize to his other half, not unless he writes a note or something and then switches places with him but he doesn’t want to do that, doesn’t want to deal with any additional stress. At least, not right now. He needs to time to himself, to think, because things just haven’t been the same lately and it’s like everything he’s gotten used to, his entire life, is falling apart.

He had a feeling living with Minseok would eventually push him off the deep end but he didn’t think it would happen so early in their lives.

Detaching himself from the door, he unties and kicks off his (actually, Minseok’s) dirty black Chucks. Ruffling his hair, he pads into the open living room, spotting Kris immediately. His love is reclined on the couch, one arm over the back and long legs propped up on what Xiumin recognizes as the desk chair, with all of his attention on the television set on a cable channel playing reruns of a late night crime drama.

“I’m home,” he greets to alert the other of his attention, leaning against the wall. He flushes slightly when Yifan turns over his shoulder with a gorgeous smile and a ‘hey’ before turning back to the television. “Is this what you’ve been up to all day,” he wonders upon recalling that today the other had off from the garage.

Yifan responds with an uninterested sound.

Thinking the conversation over, Xiumin starts to walk down the adjacent hall to their bedroom, only to be stopped by Yifan asking him where he’s been. There’s a bit of worry in his voice and the reminder that his taller partner is constantly looking after his wellbeing is comforting to Xiumin as he stumbles toward the couch and tosses himself lengthwise across it. Yifan motions him over and he inches up enough to lay his head in his boyfriend’s lap.

“Minseok got hurt and had to go to the hospital,” he half-lies as he gets comfortable.

Rough fingertips automatically the contours of his face and he leans into the touch. The feeling is nice, grounding. He’s still a little shaken up even though he’s been out of the hospital for at least an hour now, still worried about Lu Han’s reaction. He knows Minseok struggles with being stuck in this body and that it isn’t easy for his other half to have to live the life of someone he isn’t; he knows Lu Han is practically the only thing Minseok has for himself (aside from Chanyeol but Chanyeol is nothing to brag about and Xiumin frowns just thinking about him). Hopefully, given time Lu Han will find a way to understand their situation.

“What’s wrong?” Yifan asks, tucking a long strand of Xiumin’s hair behind his ear.

Rolling onto his back, Xiumin smiles up at Yifan who stares back down at him with a heavy gaze and pulled eyebrows. "Nothing," he assures. "Just a lot on my mind is all."

Yifan's lips thin. "Like?"

Xiumin faces the television again. It's a commercial. "Like Minseok. There are some things going on and..." he sighs, "don't worry about it. It's nothing."

He hears Yifan grunt but there's no other indication that the younger man plans to continue their conversation. He closes his eyes as he breathes out his nose in relief. At least Yifan is cooperating today. He's being good and quiet and he’s entirely focused on threading his fingers in Xiumin's hair. Xiumin loves when Yifan is like this. It's rare but it's always sweet and special and reminds Xiumin of why he loves him.

The moment is ruined when Yifan suddenly clicks his tongue.

"Minseok has been around a lot more lately," he points out.

Of course, Xiumin already knows this. It is his body after all.

"I miss when it was the two of us all the time,” Yifan continues. “I don't like having to share you with someone else."

"I know,” Xiumin sighs. Except he doesn’t know. He’s had Minseok for as long as he can remember and even if he’s not used to having Minseok overtake him so often, he’s always been a very prominent part of Xiumin’s life. “But I need him. He’s like my brother. He’s the only family I have.”

Yifan’s fingers pause their ministrations. “Speaking of family,” he twirls a long strand of Xiumin’s hair around his index, “how are your parents? When was the last time you visited them?”

Visit them? Never. See them? Who knows. He had let Minseok have control the week or so before he moved into his current apartment with Yifan the month after they graduated high school. Either way, he winces at the sensitive topic. He doesn’t like talking about them and Yifan knows that.

“You shouldn’t abandon the people who gave birth to you,” Yifan says, voice so flat it almost sounds like a scold. Xiumin wouldn’t be a surprise if it was; Yifan has always been bitter over his parents giving him up for adoption when he was ten. He’s not sure if Yifan wants the people he knows to have good relationships with their parents to live vicariously through them but Yifan just doesn’t understand what Xiumin went through.

“I also shouldn’t go back to the people who never loved me,” Xiumin retorts, surprising himself with the sudden attitude.

Yifan’s fingers halt in his hair once more. “Your parents love you.”

Xiumin snorts, unable to help himself. “If them telling me they should have aborted me is how they express their love for me, they’re doing it wrong. I would rather they gave me up instead of treating me the way they did,” he snaps, only realizing after it’s too late to take it back that he should have worded it differently. Or not said it at all.

He can feel the way Yifan tenses beneath him and he himself freezes in response, heartbeat suddenly booming in his ears. That might warrant a punch or two. But Yifan might take it as a jab at his own parents and that would surely provoke him to do more than that, right? He sits up, unsure of if the heavy atmosphere he feels is real or strictly paranoia.

“What is wrong with you today?”

Eyes dead set on the wall, he scrambles for something to say but he doesn’t know what’s going on with him. He just doesn’t know.

“You don’t know?”

He didn’t say that aloud, did he? “I-I…”

The hit to his head, still surprising even though expected, sends him to the floor with a yelp. He catches himself with his palms and they slide across the carpet enough to heat his skin but not enough to burn. There are apologies on his tongue, very pitiful I didn’t mean its and please calm down, yifan, please, i’m sorrys that Minseok would disapprove of and accuse him of codependency for, but he has no chance to get any of them out when Yifan’s foot slams into his abdomen. Involuntarily, he gasps, trying to catch his stolen breath.

Yifan’s yelling at him, all heated, angry words that Xiumin can’t understand because he’s slipping in and out of Chinese that the Korean man hasn’t studied in years. Another kick to his side sends him tumbling into their DVD cabinet, his elbow slamming into the glass but not hard enough to fracture it.

Rubbing his elbow, he peeks up at his aggravated boyfriend. He flinches upon noticing the other draw his leg bag, curling in on himself. “Yifan, wait!” He cries, “Please don’t do this.”

Setting his foot back on the floor, Yifan crosses his arms over his chest and thins his lips. They spend way too much time staring at each other, Yifan’s dark eyes, clouded with anger, boring into Xiumin’s dull, glossy with fright-induced tears, ones. Now that there are no foreign words being spit at him, Xiumin’s head is filled with the faraway sound of his breathing.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” the Chinese tower says at last, turning his back and returning to the couch.

Xiumin heaves a sigh of relief as the tension leaves the air. Rolling onto his knees, he crawls to the hallway where he uses the wall to stand. Hobbling off to their bedroom, he closes the door behind him and slumps to the floor against it. There’s a faint throbbing in the back of his head from knocking into the cabinet and his side hurts but he tries to ignore the discomfort.

He just has to remind himself that it is his responsibility to be Yifan’s target for when his anger gets the best of him so that he doesn’t hurt someone else. And that no matter how much Yifan may hurt him, he never ever means it and he’s just blinded by something he can’t control. He knows what it’s like to not be in control of your actions and therefore he can’t fault him for it.

He has to be there for Yifan.

Because Yifan’s parents weren’t there.

Because no one was ever there for him either.

And they only have each other.

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow, a scoff hanging off his lips, as he takes the offered wad of bills in his hands. He flips through the thin sheets, mouthing the total as he does so, and nods his head curtly when he concludes the amount is correct. Instinctively, he counts the bills again and says, “Jongdae’s going to slaughter you and sell your organs when he finds out you paid me back before him.”

“Yeah, well,” Kyungsoo digs his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels, “Jongdae won’t find out if no one tells him.”

That would sound like a threat to Chanyeol if he didn’t know Kyungsoo was afraid of him, as he should be, so he lets the words slide. After stuffing the bills in his wallet, he leans over the counter and props up his arms on his elbows. “Where’d you get the money from?”

“Does it matter?” Kyungsoo brings his beer can up to his lips. “I gave it to you.”

Chanyeol shrugs. Kyungsoo’s right. It doesn’t matter and Chanyeol doesn’t actually care. “Just curious,” he states. At the same time, Wooyoung walks in to clock-in and Chanyeol barely lifts a hand in greeting. Noticing the way Kyungsoo’s eyes light up with something unrecognizable, he frowns. “What’s that look for?”

Kyungsoo waves his hand like what he’s thinking about is irrelevant — something Chanyeol wouldn’t be surprised to find out as true. “Nothing,” he says and Chanyeol leaves it at that. Not even ten seconds later, though, the bug-eyed man turns to him. “How is that friend of yours doing? The cute one in that weird relationship with Kris.”

“You know about that?” Chanyeol raises an eyebrow, confused about the random topic. He didn’t think Kyungsoo even cared about Minseok or thought of him as anything other than ‘the sober short dude who makes sure they don’t kill themselves when they’re plastered’.

Kyungsoo taps his fingers on his beer can. “Be kinda hard not to. As Jongin’s best friend, I hear everything that Tao used to complain to him about. You and Xiu-whatever were the topic of a lot of their arguments.”

Chanyeol snorts, unsurprised. “How much do you know about them?”

“Just that the little dude isn’t treated all too good.”

“He was fine the last time I saw him,” he says but it’s been a while since he’s seen him. “Something about Kris isn’t sitting well with me though. He’s been tame lately, not that that’s a bad thing, but he used to beat on…Xiumin more severely than he does now.”

The back door swings open and Junho walks in, muttering to himself about where Taecyeon put the wax. Chanyeol watches him exit through the side door that leads to their extra storage before something clicks in his mind.

“Him trying to steal my motor oil is worrisome too.”

Kyungsoo perks up. “Hm? Who? Kris?”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol scowls, remembering what happened just yesterday. “I caught him trying to smuggle a canister in his trunk. If he needed it for his car, he could have done whatever he needed to do here. He wouldn’t tell me what it was for and I didn’t give a yesterday, I was just pissed he tried to steal from me, but now that I think about it again…”

“Something isn’t right,” Kyungsoo finishes for him.

Chanyeol nods.

“Maybe he was gonna sell it for a little extra cash.”

“Turn your brain back on, , he’s not that strapped for cash to do something so juvenile. And if he was he’d go after the cash box before the oil.”

Crushing his beer can in his hand, Kyungsoo throws it at Chanyeol. He misses. “Well how am I supposed to know? I’m not smart enough for like this.”

The mechanic snorts. “Obviously,” he jeers. “I’d be better off asking…” He was going to say better off asking a magic 8 ball but then something better hits him. “Jongdae,” he whispers to himself, slamming his palm into the counter. “ing . I should be talking about this with Jongdae instead of your stupid .”

Kyungsoo huffs indignantly. “Excuse me for not being a psychotic genius.”

“Is he at the cafe?” Upon getting confirmation in the form of a nod, Chanyeol pats the wide-eyed idiot on the back. “Tell the boys to close up for me,” he instructs as he slips from behind the counter, checking for his keys at the same time.

“Don’t tell Jongdae about the money!”

As he walks toward the door, he throws up an okay sign. “He’ll find out on his own anyway.”

Sliding his paper cup full of lychee flavored frozen yogurt onto the scale, Minseok stares blandly at Zitao. The Chinese boy stares back at him, only breaking their eye contact to ring up the total. He doesn’t look away even when he stores Minseok’s offered cash in the register drawer and the attention does nothing to ease the annoyance thrumming throughout his system.

“Can you stop looking at me like that? I’m not in the mood,” he grumbles, snatching his yogurt off the scale and grabbing for a hot pink plastic spoon.

After waking up on the floor to an empty house, feeling like he was ran over by a gang of motorcycles, he was immediately done with everything and everyone. He blamed how ty he was feeling on Kris, because there was no other plausible explanation for the ache in his abdomen, but couldn’t even confront the bastard because he wasn’t home. And to add to all of the confusion and anger he’s feeling, Lu Han hasn’t replied to any of his texts; granted, it’s only been thirty minutes but Lu Han always texts him back quickly, as if he has nothing better to do than text him for hours. And normally he wouldn’t care but he wants to see if Lu Han knows how he got home. He remembers making it to the lobby but suddenly getting lightheaded. Xiumin probably took over after that but he needs to make sure he doesn’t need to explain anything to his innocently unaware Chinese friend. It would be in his best interest to hint at his and Xiumin’s condition soon but he doesn’t want Lu Han to find out accidentally and make their relationship awkward.

“Minseok?” Zitao minutely tilts his head to the side, his uncertainty clear in his voice.

Spooning a mound of yogurt and a couple of strawberry halves, he shovels the cold treat into his mouth. “Wow,” he marvels with all of the sarcasm he can muster. “You’ve actually got my name right for once. Round of applause.” With the spoon held between his pressed lips, he claps slowly.

“Are you like this because I wouldn’t believe you,” Zitao asks, put-out by the attitude tossed at him.

Minseok snorts and rips the spoon out of his mouth. “You think you’re so special.” He laughs, breathless and unamused. “No, I’m not like this because you wouldn’t believe us. I’m like this because this is who I am.”

“How did I not know there were two of you? You’re so different.” The Chinese man frowns. He sounds a combination of astounded and confused, like Xiumin’s disorder is commonplace, like it’s so easy to figure out if someone has multiple personalities.

Swallowing another mouthful of lychee flavored goodness, Minseok suppresses the urge to laugh again. “Again, you think you’re special. You didn’t know because we never told you. But I don’t fault you for that. What I fault you for is how you’ve treated us as if we’re incapable of taking care of ourselves, like we deserve the little pity party you were throwing for us.” He waves his hand, spoon between two fingers. “But that’s another matter entirely.”

Zitao opens his mouth and stumbles over his words. “I-I’m sorry. I was just—”

“Trying to watch out for Xiumin. I know. But like I said, I’m not in the mood for this today.” Lifting the hand holding the cup in parting, Minseok offers a fake smile. “Have a nice day, Zitao.”

He sticks the spoon back in his mouth as he pushes open the exit door and walks out into the city streets. The late spring air is warming into summer and the breeze isn’t cold enough to make Minseok feel too chilly in his striped scoopneck sweater. Comforting himself with his yogurt, he strolls in the direction of the apartment, thinking the weather decent enough to walk home instead of taking the bus. Plus, the extra time it will take him to walk will allow him to calm down and check himself. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him today — but that’s pretty much the understatement of the year considering he and Xiumin have been unstable in all ways a person like them can be unstable. It’s just… Nothing makes sense anymore. Things are different but he can’t figure out why or how they’re different. Aside from the frequent bouts of sudden nausea he’s been going through lately. He almost wants to go in for a consultation with a mental health specialist (not their quack psychiatrist) to find out if this is normal.

And now he might have to worry about Lu Han, unless he’s just worrying too much. Spooning more yogurt into his mouth, he sighs.

As he comes up on the end of the sidewalk, he eyes a male waiting for the light to change. His back is to Minseok but Minseok would recognize the shaggy, chocolate hair and broad shoulder span anywhere.

Approaching him, his ears pick up on the other’s muttering.

“Bubble tea addicted making come all the way down here for nothing.”

“Nice to see you still talk to yourself,” he jokes once he’s within hearing range, breaking out into a half-smile.

Lu Han jumps and turns over his shoulder to look at him with wide-eyed surprised. His shock dissolves into indifference as his lips thin into a frown. “Oh. It’s you.”

Minseok tilts his head to the side, his excitement at seeing the other male quickly draining. “Wow, um, okay, someone is having a bad day. You can’t even pretend to be happy to see me.” He pouts. “What’s wrong?”

Lu Han’s frown deepens. “Are you seriously asking me that after what happened yesterday?”

Yesterday? “What happened yesterday?”

The way the singer scoffs immediately sours the remains of the good mood Minseok was trying to keep. Whatever happened between them, it surely doesn’t warrant this kind of attitude.

“Don’t act as if you don’t know, Kim Minseok.” Lu Han crosses his arms over his chest and stares down his nose at the smaller man.

Minseok opens his mouth to proclaim that he, as a matter of fact, doesn’t know but Lu Han continues.

“Or should I say… Kim Xiumin.”

Oh. Well that might explain some things. “Y-You found out about that.” But how?

“Yeah. Though I really don’t want to have this conversation with you again since you can’t even tell me why you kept such important things from me when I thought we were closer than that.” Lu Han sneers, his eyes narrowing into a hard glare.

Minseok’s jaw drops. He’s never seen Lu Han so angry. “Okay so you somehow found out about Xiumin yesterday and I’m sorry that I never told you about our multiple personality disorder but that’s not exactly the first thing you tell people,” he tries to placate the other despite feeling the urge to get mad right back at him growing inside his chest. This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen. He knew it would hinder their relationship a little bit but he expected Lu Han to be more understanding than this. And that actually pisses him off more.

“Are you still lying to my face about this?! I don’t care why you didn’t tell me your real name, I’m sure you have your reasons, but you don’t need to pretend to have some random mental illness just to get out of telling me the truth!” Lu Han yells.

At some point during his shouting, Lu Han stepped closer to him, getting too close to his face, and Minseok roughly pushes him back. “Except I have no reason to lie to you. I get absolutely nothing out of saying that I multiple personalities because s like you think people like me are crazy. No one ever thinks it’s possible for someone they know to have a mental disorder and thinks we’re lying. Because sharing a body with a naive little who’s in love with an abusive bastard and going through this same damn conversation over and over and over again with people I think will accept me and getting the same in response over and over and over again is something I actually like to do. As if getting upset like this actually makes me happy…”

He has to take a second to breathe, to calm down, because tears he didn’t even know he was shedding are streaming down his face and he’s breathing too hard like he’s about to start hyperventilating and this was not what he wanted at all. With all his yelling they’re making a scene, attracting an audience who shouldn’t be getting into their business and Minseok needs to reign in his emotions before he snaps at them too.

Bottom lip trembling, he inhales shakily, starting up again and taking advantage of Lu Han’s stunned silence to attempt to finish his tirade more calmly. “Oh, you know, I guess I should have thought about you possibly thinking everything is a lie and I feel really stupid that I didn’t. Maybe it’s because I’ve liked you for a while now that I…” The emotions he’s holding back are too strong for him to deal with and he really wants to go to Chanyeol’s, commandeer his best friend’s couch, and eat all his food. Actually, that’s what he’s going to do. “Yeah, no. this. I can’t do this. Have a nice life, Lu Han.”

Glancing at the walk signal and seeing there’s another four seconds before the light changes, he makes to stomp off and head to Chanyeol’s place, dumping his melted yogurt in the nearby trashcan. Hands now free, he wipes at his eyes with the hem of his shirt. At least he knows why Lu Han wasn’t answering any of his texts now. The jerk. Minseok wonders if he was ever going to respond to them or just leave him hanging forever. But it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want to think about Lu Han anymore, at least not for the rest of the day.

“Minseok, wait.” Lu Han stops him with a hand clamped around his elbow. He didn’t even realize he was being followed. “I—”

Sniffling, Minseok looks at the other man and gently pushes the hand off his arm. “Look, Han, I get it. You don’t need to feel sorry. I’m used to it. I had this conversation just a couple weeks ago,” he admits. “Granted it went a little bit better than this one but, hey,” he shrugs, “you can’t win ‘em all.”

“No,” Lu Han shakes his head, “that’s not it. I, uh. You have to understand that this isn’t easy for me to accept this, like, people don’t just reveal stuff like this all the time. But whether I believe you or not, I never said I wanted to forgo our friendship. I’m just mad that I had to find out the way I did and I don’t know I— Minseok…” Confliction passes over his face and he ruffles his hair, distressed.

“Minseok, you mean a lot to me. As a…as a friend, you know. And I know I’m like the most accepting person in the world but even I need time to process all of this. I didn’t mean to make you or the other one upset but you have to understand where I’m coming from. All of a sudden I’m finding out from a stranger that I don’t know your real name, which I guess isn’t your name, and that you’re being abused. It’s a lot. Plus Xiumin didn’t exactly do a good job of explaining your, uh, condition. He really just cried and talked in abstract circles.”

Lu Han sheepishly scratches his cheek, looking pitifully apologetic.

Minseok bites his lips, feeling bad himself for blowing up at his crush but it’s only natural that he would think the worst of Lu Han. Especially because Lu Han greeted him with hostility first! “So you believe us now?”

“Not really, no,” Lu Han says plainly. “But I don’t have any reason to think you’re lying, like you said, so I don’t know.” Minseok notices how pink the tips of his ears are when Lu Han takes a step closer to him and cups his face, rubbing his thumbs over the round of his cheeks. “Either way…I’m sorry for making you cry.”

Blushing lightly, Minseok looks away from the other’s eyes. “I-It’s okay. I’m sorry for getting so emotional. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately and Xiumin and I always have bad experiences with ‘the talk’.”

Lu Han shakes his head. His hands drop from Minseok’s cheeks to hold his shoulders. “So, uh, can I…can I buy you lunch? As an apology? And you can help me come to terms with all of this?”

Minseok nods once slowly. “If you want to.”

“I want to,” Lu Han assures without another thought, the pink of his ears spreading to his face.

“Okay.” Biting his lip shyly, Minseok nods again.

Lu Han cracks a small smile. “Okay.”