Curtains were drawn. The room was flooded with golden 9am sun, Minseok’s eyelids twitching only when the rays moved over his face smoothly like spilt milk over granite floors. He sighed inaudibly, lips curled up in a small smile – the night’s sleep clouding over his brain like a gentle drug. His long lashes flickered to a small open and his pretty irises glowed with the golden reflections. He could see silhouettes outside the window, leaves dripping with dewdrops swaying and whispering to one another. The air was glorious, the room was warm and his toes were tucked in the blankets. An inch of the window was opened, letting in blissful chirps of early birds and a cool zephyr that caressed Minseok’s face. He instantly knew it was going to be a good day.

  Pushing the blankets off him, he stretched like a cat in front of the fireplace, purring as he did so and slipped into his shirt and boots. The bathroom was empty for once. He tiptoed past Heechul’s bed, carefully avoiding the suitcases lest they should bump against the posts and disturb the huge lump under the covers. Then, he cleaned up, splashed cleansing oils and moisturisers onto his face, checked his face for peach fuzz before slightly dejectedly putting the shiny new razor down, and rubbed nine layers of skincare products onto his face.

  When he was done, he gazed into the mirror at his own reflection, pale as ceramic, smiled and went back to the bedroom. Heechul was still asleep under the lump.

He smiled and inhaled deeply.

Today was going to be a great day.

*

“Today,” Minseok announced as soon as he burst into the kitchen, some of the other members already munching on cereal, “since I am in such a good mood, I shall make lunch.”

Jongdae spat out his cereal.

“EW.” Yongguk roared, flailing an offensive finger where a drop of milk had attached itself to, “GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT…”

“Shut up, you’re going to wake the kids!” Himchan grimaced, throwing tissues into his face.

“Why?” Jongdae wailed, ignoring Himchan’s protests, “you were so conveniently depressed yesterday, why are you happy all the sudden?”

“Is…is Heechul…” Chanyeol gasped, “…dead?”

“It’s okay, I forgive you,” Minseok snapped, “would you guys like pasta or bibimbap? I could make fried chicken if you want.”

“Ooh,” Yongguk looked up, “that goes well with ramen.”

“Yongguk,” Jongdae held up a finger, “if you think Kai’s a bad cook, wait till you eat Xiumin’s stuff.”

“I’ve never exactly tried Kai’s cooking.”

“HE BOILS TV DINNERS. BOILS THEM.”

“…was he raised in a war zone?”

“Who’s the chef in B.A.P though?” Chanyeol looked interested.

“Well, by ratio – Yongguk cooks the most, and that’s pretty much justified because he works out all the time…” Himchan trailed off and everyone turned to look at Yongguk judgingly as he paused, mid-scarfing down his food. Yongguk looked somewhat embarrassed and put down the dumbbells which he was pumping with one hand.

“…But all he does cook in ramen.”

“Himchan’s the mom in B.A.P,” Yongguk picked up the dumbbell again instinctively and the others watched him somewhat irritatedly as he worded his sentences with each pump, “he cooks well. Heck, he made butter eggs and seasoned meat for Jong Up before taking his SATs.”

“That sounds good. Himchan, why don’t you keep an eye on Minnie?”

“…I don’t really want to.”

“Yeah, I don’t need help,” Minseok puffed out his chest, “by the time I’m done, you’ll be eating humble pie.”

“I’ll eat my slipper if it turns out okay,” Chanyeol rolled his eyes. Yongguk eyed his feet with a cocked eyebrow that read ‘really?’. Minseok blew a raspberry, whipped an apron off a chair and set to work.

*

  Heechul was pretty surprised to find Minseok up already, since he had spent the whole night watching cartoon’s next to the cute EXO member. Stomach growling and a little thirsty, he pulled his jeans on and set out to the kitchen. On the way, he met Yixing on the hallway. The latter didn’t seem to notice him, so out of habit, he clapped him on the back and mumbled a sleepy ‘hey’. Yixing smiled at him, rather sweetly and he was about to move on when he felt something solidly concrete, flesh-like and very much like a human hand land a smack on his .

He stopped.

He turned to look at Yixing.

There was no one else around. He stared at Yixing in disbelief, mouth gaping open as he registered the younger member in front of him, still smiling sweetly in front of him before letting out a strangled….

“Did you just slap my ?”

Yixing winked.

Heechul’s mind began to whir. Heck, even the fans daren’t touch his . He could walk past a fan café, a crowded airport, a fan-meet, a club, or maybe a gay bar without having his touched by anyone, let alone slapped. Siwon died the last time he tried that , and Leeteuk still went to therapy. Heck, even Puff daren’t touch it with a pillow even though he wouldn’t have really minded because hey, she was special (as in she was the only one who would sass back at Queen Hee).

“Nice .”

Heechul’s mouth fell open wider.

“What?”

“Nice,” Yixing’s voice was still smooth as heck, “.” (He pronounced it as ‘but-tuh’)

Then, Heechul smiled. He cracked his knuckles.

“Someone’s going to die.”

*

  First thing Jong Up noticed the second he opens the door is the smell of burning eggs. Then, a distant scream that sounded oddly like Yixing. And finally, a pale, indistinguishable pale child standing in the end of the corridor where it was the darkest. He squinted at the figure for a full ten minutes, occasionally waving at it before realising that he had never seen it before in his life. He let out a sharp breath of air, felt his blood run cold and swallowed a scream, before it seemed to blend into the dark, and slowly out of sight.

He touched the area where he had been pinched the night before, dumb with fear. Suddenly, there was an eerie creak terrifyingly close to his ear and something cold touched his bare arm. He flinched and let out a blood-curling shriek, spinning around to find Junmyeon staring at him judgementally, doorknob in his grip.

“Good morning to you too?” Junmyeon cocked an eyebrow.

“I-I-I…” Jong Up stammered.

“Huh?”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” He let out a long, lingering scream and ran down the hallway into the sunset.

Junmyeon stood there.

“It’s like Super Junior came along.”

Just then Heechul stomped past.

“Morning, hyung.”

“Touch my and you’re dead for sure.”

Junmyeon watched him stomp off.

“…it’s like Super Junior and SNSD came along.”

*

  Daehyun and Luhan were in charge of groceries that day. It was always dangerous to send them out on errands together, but Tao wasn’t even up yet (and Kris really, really didn’t want to wake him up) and Yixing was still obnoxiously drunk (but in all honestly, it was mainly because he was currently tied up, literally). The next best thing was convinced that the convent was diabolically haunted by pinching ghost-children and the third best thing was too preoccupied on the intent to poison them all. Yongguk, Kris and Zelo had a class to teach consequently and Junmyeon was bull with money (even though he usually swiped his own card, it was still annoying to owe him so much lunch money because he can be smug as heck). The rest however, just didn’t want to leave the convent in such cold weather.

  But they weren’t completely useless nor reluctant. Daehyun loved shopping for food; it was his dream to host a cooking show and Luhan… Luhan just liked zooming between the aisles in the trolley with his feet propped up. The shopping list was straightforward and short, all they needed were more chocolate milk and cereal for the kids, dried noodles and greens (Zelo specially requested cherry tomatoes which Daehyun intended to ignore because picking them out from a crate was too much damn effort).

Shopping went on pretty quickly, and Luhan was pretty meek in the sense that he didn’t grab any unnecessary no one liked (he ate some insanely weird stuff, even for a Chinese’s standards). He even helped with the bags without being asked. When Daehyun and Luhan stood outside the store, adjusting the brown parcels on their knees and shoulders, a couple of teenagers in school uniforms squealed and giggled. Accustomed to this response, they turned with flashing smiles and bowed politely, ready to greet them politely slash smoothly before they realised that they weren’t exactly looking at them. Which was upsetting, since they weren’t even in disguise. People in Hongdae could recognise them even if they wore beards and ninja outfits.

A policeman was writing a ticket next to the car parked by the road. They turned to look at him and their mouths fell open; because wow. His sleeves were folded up to his elbow to revealed toned arms, and even beneath the sunglasses and shadow of his black cap, they could see how chiselled his features were. He was ripped, and his un-dyed hair was effortlessly perfect, as though the wind was his stylist. To make things worse, even though he couldn’t be more than 30, he towered heads over them. He seemed to feel some sort of attention on him, because he looked up. One, to find Luhan staring intently at his face to look for (unsuccessfully) surgery lines. Secondly, Daehyun who looked as though he had found a living god. He looked confused before Daehyun exploded.

“Do you lift?”

The policeman removed his sunglasses and Luhan almost died. It was Minseok all over again; the dude had monolids, but when their eyes met he thought he was going to melt into an embarrassing, pink mushy puddle on the floor. Daehyun might’ve felt the effect too, because he dropped a cereal box.

But what God made up for physical appearance, he lacked in courtesy. His expression hardened and he went back to writing his ticket. Daehyun, too awed to leave him alone, walked over to stand closer to him. When he put down the ticket, Daehyun leaned over to read it.

“Double parking?”

The policeman did not answer, and slid his sunglasses back on. Luhan started to get annoyed.

“Hey, do you know who we are?”

He looked away.

“We’re international superstars. What’s this curtness, man? I’m your hyung, probably. Aren’t Koreans supposed to be respectful to their elders?” Luhan reached forwards and picked the ticket off the hood, waving it indignantly, “let us off for once.”

He looked at Luhan and cocked an eyebrow. Then, he pulled out his book and started to write another one for the old tires.

“Disrespectful jerk,” Luhan called as he tucked the new ticket behind the windshield wiper. Wordlessly, he tore out another ticket. The more Luhan called him names, the more tickets he wrote. Daehyun stared at the tickets with trepidation. This went on for 20 minutes, by then, the cop had written 11 fines.

  Then, the bus sizzled to a stop by the corner and both members got on. The policeman stared at his book, mid-writing, and back to the car again, realisation dawning on his face.

“Damn it!”

“Oh my gawd,” Luhan wiped tears off his eyes as soon as he sat down, “that was so fun.”

*

  Minseok can cook.

That was a fair conclusion Himchan made as he sat on a stool at the working table in the kitchen, watching Minseok mix some sort of egg and flour mixture in a bowl. Granted, he burnt the salad and poured excess sugar into the mixture (he didn’t even know fried chicken needed sugar), and maybe a might have set a pot of water on fire. But hey, he managed to turn the stove on. Heck, the pasta he made was close to perfect. But when it came to the meat, it was ridiculous.

Yes. Minseok can cook, just not well.

He fought down temptation after temptation to interfere, as he watched Minseok spill half the mixing on the counter as he beat it with a fork. There were 5 sizes of spoons and beaters in the kitchen, but no – Minseok picked a dessert fork. He might be small, but that didn’t mean he should pick cutesy, small tools; Himchan thought as he massaged his temples.

He was about to stand up, slam his fists on the counter, berate Minseok for disgracing the art of whisking expensive wheat flour and possibly knock him out with the small- fork when Melissa walked in, eyes wide and curious. He swallowed his fiery ball of outrage back down his throat into his stomach and smiled painfully at the child. “Hi, need something?”

“Yes, have you seen a cat around?” She smiled sweetly back, hands behind her back, skirt fluttering in the breeze.

“You mean the one Kris and Chanyeol rescued?”

Something passed over her eyes. But she maintained a neutral smile, “yes, I think so. I want to play with it.”

“I think it’s in the garden, Jong Up’s been taking care of it the last few days.”

She smiled.

“Thank you.”

Then, she turned her heels and pranced out the kitchen. Himchan looked long enough to realise that she was clutching something that looked oddly like a razor in her hands. He shook it off, and went back to…

“MINSEOK, YOU DON’T HURL WET CHICKEN INTO FLOUR… SO HELP ME GOD, IF I SNAP, I WILL HAVE WITNESSES TO BACK ME UP WHEN I GO TO TRIAL FOR YOUR MURDER.”

“IT’S SOGGY.”

“THAT’S BECAUSE YOU HAVEN’T DRIED AND MARINATED IT YET.”

“I’M GOING TO MARINATE IT IN THE FLOUR.”

“WHAT FLOUR? HALF OF IT IS ON THE COUNTER.”

“Half of it is on the counter…I’M COOKING, HIMCHAN. YOU CAN’T EXPECT ME TO NOT MAKE A MESS.”

“THIS IS PURE SUPERFLUOUS DEPLETION. A DRUDGERY OF MALEDICTION.”

“DON’T YOU USE FANCY KOREAN ON ME, THERE’S A REASON WHY I’M IN EXO-M.”

“YAH! Will you guys shut up?” Heechul screeched into the kitchen.

*

“So,” Baekhyun looked at Chanyeol with narrowed eyes, “are we doing this again?” They were congregated in Yixing and Heechul’s room where Yixing was tied to the ceiling rafters with bedsheets. He didn’t even dare wriggle lest he fell, and there was a napkin stuffed in his mouth to stop him from screaming. Heechul was busy uncorking a soju bottle. Kris and Tao, who seemed to be always there when Yixing needed intoxication, were standing in a corner as usual. Yongguk and Zelo sat on the bed, and were mainly part of the tall-people-squad to catch him in case his next identity was a streaker.

Since Zelo was the tallest, he was awarded the glorious task of removing his gag. Well, it wasn’t that glorious, because the second Zelo took out the napkin, Yixing exhaled loudly and started to pant a little too dramatically, chest heaving intentionally, and a single glistening tear ran down his cheek.

  Zelo stared at him, napkin in his hand as Yixing flipped his hair to the side of his face, revealing his better side, and in a voice as though he was still in drama school, flowed out from between his lips, smooth as silk, “I have been waiting for you to release me.”

Zelo smirked and looked down over his shoulder, “this is worse than I thought.”

“Even for y beasts like you,” Yixing said/crooned, “this is too .”

“You were right,” Zelo chortled at Heechul, “this is hilarious.”

Heechul popped open the bottle savagely.

“This,” Baekhyun narrated, “is a scene depicting justice being served on a silver platter. What future lies behind the door of forced intoxication for Zhang Yixing? Is it sobriety? What has his drunken episodes taught him about himself? His life? His character? His destiny? Will he re-bring honour to himself and his name? Will he ever live this down? What will become of Zhang! Yi! Xing?” He gesticulated wildly, waving an invincible microphone in Yixing’s face, who seemed to humour his recital.

“…this looks more like the start of a o, but okay.”

Zelo dropped the napkin in disgust and Baekhyun kicked it away from him awkwardly. Chanyeol regarded Yongguk judgingly, “what kind of have you been watching?”

Yongguk sank his head in mute defiance.

“Okay, I’m going to untie him down, and you guys are going to keep a grip on him.”

“How the heck did you even get him up there anyway?”

“He leapt up a wardrobe and I got up with him and tied him up and wrapped the ends of the sheet around the rafters.”

“…I still don’t understand how you managed that.”

“It was irritatingly easy. Yixing was so engrossed in being a horndog, he practically let me.”

“No, I really wasn’t asking that.” Kris looked at the wardrobe, which towered seven feet high above solid ground. There was nothing physically possible for them to support themselves on the way up unless they had questionably dragged the bed over like Zelo had just did with the help of three other members who worked out.

Zelo held Heechul up as the latter sat on his shoulders, working on the knots like a NAVY officer. They watched as he slowly lowered Yixing down, the EXO-M dancer throwing out theatrics on the way down as though performing in theatre, but his movements were so wriggly Tao smacked him on the head with a magazine to settle him down.

The hyungs turned to look at the Chinese maknae.

“…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Yixing’s limbs were still tied. And when they lowered him on the floor…well, Heechul basically dropped him on the floor with a loud, bone-cracking thump. Heechul held the soju aloft. Then, instead of delicately pouring it down Yixing’s throat as expected by the intoxicated Chinese member, he let out a maniacal laugh and poured half the contents down his face.

Yixing might have somehow swallowed some in his screaming and sputtering, because two minutes later he conked out. They watched him at first, afraid he might have drowned, but then figuring out that dead men don’t snore, rolled him over so that he slept on his stomach.

Then, they waited.

*