PartOne:

there are kids, and then there are idiots

"Mister, mister!" "I wanna go, I wanna go!" "It's my turn!"

Children called out as they crowded the game booth, all fighting for a turn to throw a dart. The booth runner, a dark-haired man of seventeen, had propped an elbow on the canvas-covered counter and was leaning, his cheek in his palm. Dark eyes lazily watched as the kids attempted to line up in front of him; bored breaths spilled from his lips. "One at a time," he drawled, snatching up two dollar bills from the nearest child. He reached under the counter and pulled out three darts, shoving them into small hands.

Chen - as the man's nametag read - watched as the kid shut one eye and squinted with the other, taking aim and poising to shoot. He moved to lean against the side of the booth, one hand on the other arm's elbow, the other hand resting beneath the counter. Just as the boy was about to release, the dark-haired man let his thin fingers move ever so slightly against the string that had been strung all around the side of his booth, hidden by the bright colors of the canvas paneling and grainy wood of his stand.

The target, which had been mechanically sliding left and right at a fairly slow pace, jerked almost unnoticeably to one side. The boy's throw missed, the dart impaling the back cork wall instead of its intended mark. Chen struggled to keep the grin off his face as he watched the young child throw the other darts in a flustered succession, missing the target both times without the booth runner even having to move a muscle - even better for Chen, because frankly, he didn't feel like working today. Or any day, for that matter. "Well, better luck next time, kid," he dismissed the customer.

He didn't really believe what he said. Of course the brat would miss the target again. People rarely beat his game of darts - partly due to his con-artist antics, but also partly due to their sheer lack of skill. Chen was sure he met at least ten coordinately-challenged people a day - most people were ers that had little, if any, aim.

As he "allowed" yet another child a chance at the darts (rude kid snatched them out of his hand), Chen's mind roamed to count the people that actually might have been able to beat the game, if only he hadn't rigged it. His friend Baekhyun, for one, was a good marksman - but Chen chalked it up to the man's talent with his hands. As runner of the shell game booth, Baekhyun's nimble fingers let the dart loose too quickly for his tricky friend to rig the target in time. The darts runner thought of a few more rare instances where someone had slipped past his line of defense and actually hit the target - whether through luck or extreme skill - when he considered one tall, lean man who perhaps could have hit the bullseye had it not been for Chen's constant interference: Sehun.

"Step aside kids; it's my turn now." A bold yet smooth voice laced made its way to Chen's ears, immediately eliciting from him a groan and a roll of the eyes. He gave a venomous glare to the man parting the sea of children. Sharp eyes and a troublesome smirk stared back at the booth runner - an expression that read, yes, it's me again. He placed two dollar bills on the counter - two whole dollars. To anyone else, that would have meant three chances to win darts game. To Chen, that meant one long period of annoying and persistent trouble.

He was reluctant to give the man the darts, and had half a mind to stick them in his own eyes rather than let the man play. However, the customer seemed to sense the dark-haired man's negative sentiments and spoke up. "I'm waiting," he sang, the amusement dancing in his tone.

Chen grumbled as he shoved the red and blue plastic-cased darts at the man. He hissed the words, his breath hitting against and slipping through the cracks of his teeth. "Yeah, I'm waiting, too. Waiting for you to realize that there is nothing to see here, Sehun." It had recently become Chen's dream that the weekly customer would stop coming one day - the pestering had been too much, no matter how much money Sehun paid.

"I've decided I'm going to solve everything today," the man declared, running fingers through his slick, pin-straight hair. It took all the restraint Chen had not to scoff. The booth runner watched as the customer took aim, holding the missile in between an index and a thumb. Both digits had on thick, elaborate class rings, and Chen wondered what kind of douche wore such bulky rings like that. He didn't let his thoughts roam too far, though; Chen kept his eyes focused on the customer and his finger on the tugging thread.

Sehun returned the gaze to Chen. The operator kept on a poker face, though the other's speculative squint was rather uncomfortable to be under. For the longest time the two men were just fixated upon each other, neither willing to relent in the silent battle. Sehun was so focused upon watching the operator that he didn't pay any attention to his front, and chanced throwing two of his darts in that direction. Of course, both shots missed completely - one even veered towards the side of the booth, almost ripping through the thin canvas partition.

Chen scolded the young man. "Watch the target, you idiot!"

The "idiot" listened and face forward the next time, turning his head and taking his time to aim properly. Chen inwardly grinned. He watched Sehun's arm spring forward and fingers release. Now, he told himself, flicking his own wrist and pulling at the string so quickly, so smoothly that no one would've been able to notice the difference in the way the target moved unless they were Chen himself - or someone who had spent almost just as much time studying and watching the game as he had.

"What the hell!" Expletives escaped the Sehun's mouth after he saw his dart miss the circle target by the width of a hair. He rounded on the booth owner, putting on a pout that mirrored that of the child who played the game before him. "What did you do?"

Sehun's disappointment made Chen fold his arms over his stomach and laugh more than he had at anyone else's loss ever before. "What happened to solving everything today, huh? How can you do that when you aren't even watching the game?" His chuckles intermixed with his words - the questions goaded and prodded at the persistent customer.

A loud 'bam' sounded as the visitor banged his fist on the counter, making the booth runner jump. The sound echoed and reverberated in his brain, a buzzing filled his senses - the relaxed laughter that had been with him earlier all but disappeared now. "You think I don't know what you're hiding behind the booth?" Their faces were only inches apart, and Chen felt the cut of Sehun's sharp intuition. He could barely think - the adrenaline pumped through his body, every muscle tense from the thought of what the other man would do if the booth's secret was discovered. For the first time, the seventeen-year-old found himself nervous around Sehun. His heart raced - the man was close, too close: both figuratively and literally. Chen's mind picked through the scared, jumbled mess of his thoughts and picked out the cool words that he hoped would push the other man away from the truth, away from him.

"I swear, I don't know what you're talking about. Why you keep insisting on coming around here and playing a game designed for little kids? Do you have a crush on me or something?" He hoped his expression read 'unamused' rather than 'scared less'.

Sehun pushed closer so that the already short distance became mere centimeters, craning his neck as he peered meanly into the booth runner's dark, soulless eyes. "I'll figure you out, Kim Jongdae," he hissed, his hot breath blanketing Chen's own lips.

Then, as suddenly as he invaded the booth runner's personal space, he quickly departed, backing away. Chen almost swore that he saw the faintest of smirks on Sehun's face before the younger man his heel and left.

What an idiot. The booth runner stared after the man with contempt. An idiot Sehun was - an idiot who somehow had figured out Chen's real name and had noticed his hands moving below the counter. The dark-haired seventeen-year-old's brain began turning, working out new ways to rig the game. He'd have to change it up so that his prying customer wouldn't figure it out. Chen reminded himself to ask his friend, one of the mechanics, for help later.

He slumped into his signature 'leaning' position - elbow on counter and cheek in hand. The robust affair with the angry Sehun had scared a few potential customers off, and he had time to think - he would have to wait a bit until someone new garnered the gall to come up and give the game a try. (Not that Chen disliked not doing anything - he truly enjoyed it, but he didn't like having to lose potential profit because of that damn lughead.)

His sulking and plotting was interrupted by a high-spirited laugh. "He came back again?" A sturdy young man, Chen's age, ambled over, showing his winning white grin and his smiling black eyes. His forehead was lined with fringed pieces of smooth, dark brown bangs. "Man, you ought to send him over to my place sometime. It's been pretty slow lately." He leaned an elbow on the counter just as comfortably as the runner of the booth did, though considerably less slumped.

"You think I haven't tried? Baekhyun, this guy is almost impossible to get rid of. He just has a crazy obsession with this booth or something," the skinnier male stood upright now, chin pulled to neck and eyes shooting condescending looks at his friend. He kept the glare pasted on for a few seconds before exhaling heavily and stepping back, leaning his back against a wooden corner post of the stand. "But yeah, sure, no problem. I'll try and chalk someone else up for you today," he conceded, his dark pupils watching the shell game operator visibly brighten up. Baekhyun's lips stretched wider than Chen had ever thought possible.

"Thanks!" Baekhyun said with enthusiasm, straightening up from the counter and slipping a thumb into the suspender strap of his gray overalls. The faded denim over the required green t-shirt made Chen cringe, though he supposed his own ridiculous firetruck red t-shirt and dark blue overall combination was just as bad, if not worse. "Alright, I gotta get back now. See ya later, Chen!" The darts operator simply nodded in response, straightening his clothes and making himself look presentable for the latest person nearing the stand.

Before stepping out from behind the counter, he let a hand slip down and reach underneath the top - not to tug at the rigging string, but to dab at the open container of chalk dust he had hidden on the built-in shelf below. Feeling the grainy powder in his fingers, he greeted the incoming customer with a wily smile. He collected the money, gave the darts, and watched with pleasure as the projectiles each missed the target by a fraction of a centimeter, earning groans and lamentations from the thrower. Grinning even wider than before, the booth runner nodded at the people passing by before clapping the customer's back in "encouragement," leaving small, white prints on the back of the poor er's shirt.

"You were so close, I bet you'll get it if you give it a few more tries," he consoled the human target, who loosened up before handing Chen a ten dollar bill. "And if not, I'm sure you'll do well in another booth. You seem to have a good eye - the shell game down the aisle should be an easy win."

Hook, line, sinker - as the foolish man gave Chen a grateful smile, the booth operator knew that Baekhyun would be getting some business later.

from your welcoming ticket vendor:

thank you so much for being so patient and reading! like i said, chapters are sure to be slow in coming but i'll try my best to make them worthwhile. tell me if you have any concerns, questions about the story, or suggestions on how to make the fic better, okay? i <3 u all!