A/n: I've decided titled chapters are the way to go. Titles based on the theme of the chapter. I'm not gonna M-rate this chapter, but very slight ual content, and drug use. Enjoy!

“You know, Seokkie, I think my apartment is starting to miss me. I can’t even remember the last time I slept there.”

Luhan was lying on his back, arms folded under his head, staring up at the ceiling of Minseok’s bedroom. Of the past forty days, he had been in this bed for at least half of the nights. Both of them were afraid to sleep alone. On the nights when Luhan would sleep in his own apartment, he would be restless, sleep evading him for hours, leaving him tired the following day. For the past week, he had hardly even gone home, bringing clothes to Minseok’s, doing laundry in the older’s building, getting ready for work in the mornings in his bathroom. As of yet, neither of them had complained about this set up. Minseok hadn’t even really thought about it, until now; now that Luhan had brought it up, he realized the other might not be enjoying this as much as he was. It wasn’t as if Minseok was leaving all his things to go to Luhan’s place. Luhan was giving up more than him to be here.

Minseok flicked off the lights and climbed into his bed, turning on his side to face Luhan. However, Luhan had other ideas, shuffling closer to him and rolling over with his back to the other, so Minseok could curl up beside him. Luhan liked being close to someone when he slept, Minseok knew. It was a comfort thing; and Luhan was just a cuddly kind of person. Minseok didn’t mind; he’d been feeling protective of the boy lately anyway, and he’d probably end up snuggling him while he slept even if Luhan didn’t move first.

“What are you saying?” Minseok asked him, throwing an arm over his waist casually. “Is my apartment not good enough for you?” Luhan chuckled, but then Minseok grew serious. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want, you know.”

“I don’t mind,” he said lightly. “It’s just weird how little I’ve been there lately.”

“Maybe we should sleep there sometimes, then,” Minseok suggested. “I don’t have anything against your apartment. I like it, actually.”

“It’s louder there,” Luhan noted. “And I really don’t want to have to take all my stuff back and forth every other night.”

“Well, you can’t complain then,” Minseok teased. He felt Luhan’s arm shift, moving, searching. Fingertips brushed across his wrist, and then Luhan was twining their fingers together, squeezing Minseok’s hand gently. Luhan sighed.

“Tomorrow we’ll be a third of the way through this,” he whispered. “We only have to do this two more times.”

“We need to get Confirmed,” Minseok said. “Maybe we should just go-”

“It’s not gonna happen, ‘Seok,” Luhan cut him off. “If we went there, the whole thing would be over – they’d reach the three-point-five billion mark and we’d still be waiting in line. I’m not that patient, and we both know it.” Minseok did know it; he’d suggested the idea a few times now, but Luhan wasn’t budging on it. Neither of them wanted to go and wait for hours to get those stupid number tattoos, but Minseok was afraid every day that a guard was going to attack him or Luhan, kill them and send them in. That was happening now; guards had taken advantage of their authority, and were killing people who were unmarked, then bringing them in, claiming they were Categories. Minseok had witnessed it himself, when he and Luhan had gone out to get some groceries one day, and a middle-aged man had been jumped by a guard and beaten to death. The man had pleaded with the guard, saying he hadn’t done anything wrong, he wasn’t a Category… But he’d been killed anyway. Other people were killing each other too, but it was illegal to kill Confirmed citizens. If you brought someone in with a Confirmation mark, they killed you too. Even if he knew he and Luhan weren’t Categories, Minseok wanted that protection for them.

But he knew there was more. Luhan wanted to wait and be Confirmed with his family. He was waiting for the call to go home to China. And Minseok respected that, but he still was worried.

“What time do you work tomorrow?” Luhan wondered, pulling Minseok out of the limbo between consciousnesses that he hadn’t realized he was in.

“Nine,” Minseok mumbled.

“Me too.”

“Mm,” Minseok grunted, meaning to say “I know”, but he was too out of it to really talk now. He fell asleep quickly, thoughts of Confirmation, death, and other worries swirling through his mind.

When he woke up again, it was to the sound of his alarm going off, but his limbs all felt too heavy to move, and he grumbled to Luhan to make it shut up. He felt the other move beside him, rolling and reaching over him to hit the snooze button to give them ten more minutes. Luhan lay back down, facing him, pressing his forehead to his, but Minseok didn’t even notice, dozing off right away. Then the beeping was going off again, and he turned, hitting the clock and shutting it off.

“Be quiet,” he muttered, yawning. He went to stretch, but his arm was pinned under Luhan, whose weight had moved onto him when he’d moved to hit the alarm. “Get off me,” he whined lightly, and Luhan smiled, eyes still closed. Minseok pushed his shoulder gently, freeing his arm and sitting up. He could feel his hair being a mess, and ran his hands through it, shimmying it in his fingers. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, and frowned. That won’t do. His hair looked gross. He was definitely showering this morning.

As he dragged himself out of bed, he felt Luhan tug on his hand. “’R’you showering?” he burbled. Minseok told him he was, and Luhan began to pull himself up. “Take me with you.” Minseok sighed; Luhan could be such a child in the morning. Eyes half-closed, he followed Minseok to the bathroom and started stripping. As a pet peeve, Minseok closed the door behind them; he didn’t know why he needed to close the door when showering or changing, but he did. Luhan was so much more open (literally) about it, and it drove Minseok nuts. He switched on the tap, and Luhan told him to make it hotter, knowing how Minseok took less-than-scalding showers, which for some reason was unacceptable in Luhan’s eyes. When they showered together, they had to find middle ground, which was slightly too warm for Minseok, and barely warm enough for Luhan.

Luhan was in the tub before Minseok had even undressed, stealing all the cascading water. Minseok slipped in beside him, getting his hair wet and grabbing the bottle of shampoo, lathering a handful into his hair. He plopped more in his hand, rubbing it on Luhan’s head and telling him to wake up. Luhan grumbled something and took over, hands moving through his own hair and then washing the suds away. He switched places with Minseok so the older could do the same, and Luhan began washing his body. In the midst of his cleaning, he passed the loofah to the older and turned around.

“Do my back, ‘Seok,” he said, and Minseok obeyed, slowly rubbing the sponge down Luhan’s spine. When he was done, Luhan stepped back under the water, leaning against the wall. “Give me a massage?” he asked lightly. “My neck’s sore.”

“What am I, a slave?” Minseok groaned, but he moved his hands to Luhan’s shoulders, pressing against the muscles there roughly. He dug his thumbs in, working his fingers in and smoothing out the tenseness where he found it. Luhan sighed loudly, going slack beneath Minseok’s expert hands.

(Honestly, Minseok didn’t even know why he was so good at giving massages. He didn’t ever remember being taught; but as soon as Luhan had discovered his talent, he’d made sure to get the older to work out all the tiniest kinks in his body whenever he had them. And Luhan was pretty vocal about it, which usually wouldn’t bother Minseok because, to be honest, the guy was vocal about everything; but when they were here in the shower, even though there was no one else around, it made him blush.)

“You should open a spa,” Luhan told him breathily, and Minseok laughed. “Really. You’re – uh-” He let out a very loud, moan as Minseok hit a spot between his shoulder blades. Minseok slapped his bare skin, chastising. “You’re making me hard.”

“Woah, okay, that’s where I leave!” Minseok dropped his hands, turning away from the other, and Luhan let out a whine. He began washing his body, not paying attention to the younger while he scrubbed himself clean. Then he moved back into the deluge, spinning around to ask Luhan to get out of the way; but Luhan was still leaning against the wall, one hand holding himself up, the other having disappeared. Minseok could see his arm moving, and he rolled his eyes, hitting Luhan again. “Must you in my shower?”

“Your fault,” Luhan grunted, not stopping. “At least I – don’t in your bed.”

“Gross,” Minseok frowned. “Hurry up or get out of my way so I can get out.” A few seconds later, he saw Luhan tense, and then he threw his head back. Minseok’s chest felt tight, ears burning as he watched his friend . He waited another minute, and then pushed Luhan out of the way, stealing the water back and letting himself be cleaned of bubbles. Luhan left the shower while he did this, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist before pulling out his toothbrush and beginning to brush his teeth.

When Minseok turned off the water, Luhan said, “Are you gonna make breakfast?”

“Nope.”

“You’ll let me starve?” Luhan pouted as he pulled a t-shirt over his head.

“You can’t make yourself something?” Minseok asked, drying his hair.

“Do you really want me going near your kitchen?” Luhan shot back.

Luhan was really not a good cook. He couldn’t even make a sandwich without screwing it up. He tried, certainly, whenever he was trying to be sweet or do something for someone (mainly Minseok), but it was always just bad. Minseok didn’t even bother pretending to enjoy Luhan’s crappy cooking; he just politely declined and poked fun at the younger for it.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Minseok admitted. “But you’re never going to learn if you don’t try.”

“I do try,” Luhan sulked. “I still . Teach me your ways. In the meantime, please make my meals for me.”

“You’re such a child,” Minseok sighed. He didn’t really mind having to take care of the younger (even if he was only a month younger than him), because he knew leaving him alone, the boy would be completely lost. The guy had lived on his own in a new country for three years before he met Minseok, but it seemed that the second they became friends, Luhan was totally dependent on him. Minseok had to be the mature adult and keep them both afloat. He wasn’t in the habit of breaking down when things happened – he’d learned to deal with them as he went along.

(Forty-one days ago now, that hadn’t applied. Minseok had more or less imploded when he learned the fate of his world, and for once, just for one night, Luhan had taken care of him.)

He ended up making them breakfast, and then they left early, going to Minseok’s work so he could make Luhan a coffee before he had to leave for his own job.

“See you tonight,” Luhan called as he walked out the café door. Kyungsoo, who had opened shop at eight, gave Minseok a strange look.

“Morning, Kyungsoo,” Minseok said warmly. Kyungsoo nodded and said nothing, and Minseok went to check the schedule to see who would be coming in later today. Another worker would be coming in at noon, and two more would be in from three, when Minseok got off, until close. Kyungsoo was in until two, which meant Minseok had most of his shift with him.

Minseok couldn’t wait to go back home, inside the walls where everything seemed to be safe. Where he could laugh and joke and act like nothing was wrong in the world. Where everything was normal, everyday; snoozing, teasing, giving massages, worrying over menial things. Being happy.

Where, just for a little while, he could forget that everything wasn’t okay.

“

Kyungsoo was tapping his fingers on the counter impatiently, frustrated beyond belief. It was half past one, and Jongin was supposed to have been here for his shift already. Kyungsoo had let the girl who’d been working with him this morning go at one, assuming Jongin would just be a few minutes late. Now he was running the shop on his own, at one of the busiest times of the day, because Jongin didn’t have the decency to show up.

Finally, Jongin decided to make his appearance, and he looked disgusting to Kyungsoo. You could’ve at least used all that time to take a shower, or wash your clothes. Jongin’s hair was stringy, the area around his eyes so dark it made him look like a very tired raccoon. He didn’t say a word to Kyungsoo, heading into the back room to change. When he came back out, Kyungsoo glared daggers at him.

“Wash your hands before you touch anything,” he snapped, and Jongin didn’t argue it.

When Kyungsoo had worked with the boy three days ago, he had been similar to the way he was, but not nearly to this extent. Filthy, exhausted, miserable. His hands shook, and he didn’t speak to anyone. When he took his break the other day, he’d sat in the back room, not even bothering to go smoke something in the alley. Maybe he couldn’t. His dealer had been killed; maybe he hadn’t found anyone new to hook him up.

Tension sparked between them, and it lasted for nearly two hours, until the café was void of any customers, and it was just Jongin and Kyungsoo, and all of Kyungsoo’s fury.

“Thirty-three,” Kyungsoo shattered the silence. “Thirty-three minutes late, Kim Jongin.” Jongin didn’t even look at him, clearing a table. “What the hell is wrong with you lately? This is a new low for you, and seriously, that’s saying something.”

“Mind your own business,” Jongin said, voice cracking like he hadn’t used it in days. Maybe he hadn’t.

“No. Tell me what was so important that you couldn’t even get your act together enough to show up on time, or at least come in not smelling like you slept in a freaking dumpster last night. Do you have half a brain in your stupid head? Do you not think of how you’re reflecting on other people? You are literally an embarrassment to me knowing people see me working with you.”

“I don’t care, Kyungsoo.” His words wavered, trying to be strong but failing. He met Kyungsoo’s eyes for a second, and Kyungsoo saw tears there, scowling at his weakness. Jongin must have been so devastated at the loss of his hook up for crack, or whatever it was he took. “I don’t care if your precious image is being damaged by me. My closest friend is dead.”

“It’s pretty said that your ‘closest’ friend was your drug dealer,” Kyungsoo scoffed.

“Shut up!” Jongin choked. “He was a human! And he wasn’t just my dealer; we’d been friends for years! I’d been living with him, and now…”

“And now you’re locked out? That’s why you haven’t showered,” Kyungsoo said coolly. But he hadn’t known that, that Jongin lived with the boy. Were they together? Was that why Jongin was so torn up?

Stupid. Letting love break you like that.

“Screw you, Kyungsoo.”

They didn’t speak anymore for the rest of their shift, staying until closing. As expected, Jongin went into the back room at six o’clock sharp, not bothering to help clean up or close down. A moment later, he came out, passing Kyungsoo without so much as a glance. Kyungsoo watched him, feeling bitter and guilty.

“Jongin,” he said as the boy reached the door. Jongin paused, but then ignored him and kept going. Kyungsoo figured that he shouldn’t bother with the inconsiderate douche bag, but then he was hurrying after him, bursting out of the door and glancing down the street. “Jongin!” he called after the boy’s retreating shape. Jongin kept going, and Kyungsoo kept chasing after him. He caught up with him, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around. “Hey!”

“What?” Jongin snapped, slapping his hand away.

“Come inside,” Kyungsoo said, and before Jongin could refuse, he started dragging Jongin back towards the shop.

“Let me go!” Jongin struggled, but Kyungsoo held his arm firmly, pulling him inside. When they were off the street, Kyungsoo stopped, but didn’t let go. “What do you want?”

“Where are you staying?” Kyungsoo asked calmly.

“Why do you c-”

“Where are you staying?”

Jongin glared down at him, and Kyungsoo wasn’t budging. Scowling, Jongin told him, “I haven’t figured it out yet.” Which meant he didn’t have somewhere. He probably was staying on the street.

“Come in and sit down.” Kyungsoo led him to a table, pushing him down in a chair. “Stay there.”

Kyungsoo finished cleaning up, keeping his eye on Jongin to make sure he didn’t try to leave. The boy sat, looking lost and unsure of what was happening. A few moments later, Kyungsoo was pulling on a sweater and walking outside, Jongin following. When Kyungsoo locked the shop’s door, he turned to Jongin. “Come on, then.”

“What are you doing?” Jongin asked. Kyungsoo walked half a block to where his car was parked, and Jongin trailed after him even without getting an answer. Kyungsoo opened his passenger door, and looked at Jongin.

“Get in,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Jongin seemed to realize he wouldn’t make any headway trying to argue Kyungsoo on it, so he got into the car and shut the door irritably. Kyungsoo walked around the car and slipped into the driver’s seat, starting the car and driving off.

“Where are you taking me?” Jongin asked.

“My apartment,” Kyungsoo answered casually.

“Why?” Jongin repeated slowly.

“Because, Jongin. I’m not putting up with you being so dirty and awful when you come to work. It’s not good for business.”

“So… what? You’re going to – let me shower at your house?”

“I’m letting you stay.” Kyungsoo couldn’t even believe he was doing this – he didn’t even know what “staying” consisted of – and clearly Jongin couldn’t either, because he laughed, and said nothing more, staring out the window.

When they stopped at a red light, Kyungsoo realized. He had a Category in his car. He could so easily drop him off at the Center – it wasn’t that far from here. Then he wouldn’t even have to worry about Jongin anymore. That would be one person closer to this all being over, and who would even miss him? No one would even know he had done it; they would just assume Jongin had been caught. Like he should have been caught the other day. Kyungsoo couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been. But it had been Chanyeol who had ended up taking the call – maybe he’d let Jongin off the hook. Stupid. Kyungsoo wouldn’t make that mistake. He would drive Jongin right to the door, make sure a guard picked him up this time; shoot him if he tried to struggle…

“You’re really going to let me in your place?” Jongin asked softly. Kyungsoo met his eyes and there was, in the midst of black despair, the tiniest spark of hope. As though he really believed Kyungsoo, some ghost of his faith in the world restored by Kyungsoo’s gesture. No, no! It wasn’t fair; he wasn’t allowed to do that. Look so innocent and honest and… No, this was so entirely unwarranted!

“Not permanently,” Kyungsoo said, hating himself. “Just until you find somewhere off the streets.” Jongin nodded, not saying anything else. Kyungsoo didn’t want to speak either, because this was all awkward and he didn’t want to believe he was actually opening his doors to Kim Jongin of all people, but he knew he had another question to ask, so he made an attempt to swallow his pride. “Do you – have anything you, er, wanted to get at your friend’s house?” He kept his eyes on the road, feeling Jongin’s wide-eyed stare of disbelief boring into him.

“You’ll go there?” Kyungsoo only nodded in response. “It’s actually back a few blocks,” Jongin told him, and Kyungsoo quickly veered right, turning off at the next street, then following Jongin’s directions into a sketchy neighbourhood. Kyungsoo shuddered, imagining what people would say if they saw him here. His friends, his parents…

“It’s this building here,” Jongin pointed out a small, dingy apartment building. The place couldn’t have had more than four floors, and looked ready to collapse any time. Kyungsoo pulled over, turning off the car and getting out. As he was locking the doors securely, Jongin was already at the door, slipping inside.

 “People – live here?” Kyungsoo asked skeptically as he opened the door. Jongin was waiting, holding the inner door open for him, key in hand. Then Jongin took the stairs heading down into the basement level, walking all the way to the last apartment on the floor, before unlocking it’s door and moving in. A disgusting odor wafted out, attacking Kyungsoo immediately, wrinkling his nose in distaste. It was a smell that clung to Jongin, but much stronger.

There were a lot of unfamiliar objects everywhere, and Kyungsoo was afraid to go past the front door, in fear of getting a disease from the place. So he stood and waited while Jongin began to gather some things into a backpack. (This was convenient for Jongin, because when he slipped into Jongdae’s room to take a very large stash of various drugs, Kyungsoo didn’t see it.) It didn’t take very long for Jongin to get everything he needed, and Kyungsoo was happy to get out of the place again, speed-walking down the hall and towards fresh air. How could anyone possibly live in that apartment?

Well, no one did now.

Back in Kyungsoo’s car, the scent lingered on Jongin and his backpack, and Kyungsoo had to crack a window. He was grateful to be driving away from that area of town, and made a mental note to never under any circumstances go back. Jongin was quiet as they drove off, but he started laughing humorlessly when they reached Kyungsoo’s part of town.

“You would live here,” he uttered, glancing up at the elegant skyscraping apartment buildings.

“You would scoff at it,” Kyungsoo returned. He parked in an underground lot and then headed to the elevator of his building, Jongin tagging along warily. The elevator ride up fourteen floors was extremely uncomfortable and silent, and Kyungsoo just wanted this to not be real. But he had done this, so he would deal with the consequences of his actions.

Having Kim Jongin in his apartment was the last thing he could imagine, and actually seeing it in reality was just bizarre. Everything in Kyungsoo’s place was clean, pristine; and Jongin was a mess. He directed Jongin to his bathroom, commanding him to shower and just leave his clothes in the bathroom for Kyungsoo to pick up and launder later. Then Kyungsoo went to his hall closet and pulled out a blanket from the top shelf, taking it to his couch and leaving it on the arm. With that, he went into the kitchen to start making a meal for the two of them.

Jongin came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, and Kyungsoo was just finishing setting the meal, having to take out a second placemat to set on the table. Two plates, two glasses, two sets of chopsticks. He hadn’t cooked for two in a long time. Somehow, it didn’t feel very different than the last time it had happened. He and Jongin sat together, not looking at one another, not saying anything, just eating. They clearly didn’t want to be in each other’s company.

No, it wasn’t very different at all.

When they finished eating, Kyungsoo took their plates. He cleared them off and then went to the bathroom to pick up Jongin’s clothes, expecting them to be littered on the floor. Instead, he found them folded neatly in a pile on top of the toilet seat. At least he has some manners. He picked up the stack and threw it in his laundry basket, thinking to himself that he would need to do laundry soon because he didn’t want his own clothes smelling like Jongin. Because Jongin smelled like drugs.

Which reminded him…

He headed out to his living room, where Jongin was lounging on the couch, eyes closed but looking less-than-peaceful. “Jongin,” Kyungsoo said firmly. The boy opened an eye and looked at him.

“Hm?”

“I’m not going to permit a Category to stay under my roof,” Kyungsoo told him.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” Jongin laughed sarcastically. “You would never actually be nice enough to-”

“You’re not allowed to do drugs as long as you’re here,” Kyungsoo interrupted. “I don’t – I don’t care if it’s , or , or methamphetamines-”

“’Methamphetamines’?” Jongin echoed in amusement. “Did you really just call it that? It’s just meth, man, unless you’re like a scientist or something.”

“No drug activity in this apartment, do you understand?”

Jongin shrugged. “Whatever. Sure, fine.”

Kyungsoo expected him to put up a fight, and was surprised when he didn’t. Not knowing what else to say, he just nodded once, his heel and left. He went to his room, closed the door, and pulled out his laptop, spending the next few hours researching all kinds of things about drugs, drug users, habits, affects of various drugs, damage caused by drug abuse, etc. At one point, Jongin knocked on his door and asked for a pillow, and Kyungsoo just threw him one off his bed. Hours into researching, he realized it was nearing midnight, and he shut the laptop down, going to bed. He debated whether he should go check on Jongin or something, but he didn’t really care that much, and simply went to sleep.

The next morning, he got out of bed, temporarily forgetting Jongin’s presence in his apartment until he saw the boy’s clothes in his hamper. Then he sighed, heading out to the living room, where the blanket and pillow he’d giving Jongin were splayed on the couch, and the boy’s backpack was resting there, but he himself was not. Puzzled, Kyungsoo looked around, before noticing his balcony door unlocked and seeing the boy’s figure through his window. He went to the door, wondering what he was doing, and then noticed a joint in Jongin’s hand. Rolling his eyes, Kyungsoo pushed the door open and stepped outside.

It was drizzling out, but Jongin neither seemed to notice nor care. The same could be said about Kyungsoo’s presence when he came out. Kyungsoo took advantage of that, though, stalking towards the younger determinedly and grabbing the joint out of his hand, before throwing it off the terrace, into the street.

“Hey!”

“I told you,” Kyungsoo hissed, reaching into the boy’s pockets and pulling out a handful of joints. “You weren’t to be doing this anymore.”

“Don’t throw those!” Jongin said desperately, snatching the things out of Kyungsoo’s hand before he could dispose of them.

“Do you know how easy it could be for me to turn you in?” Kyungsoo seethed. “Don’t push me, Kim Jongin. If I tell you not to do something in my house, don’t do it!”

“I’m not technically in your-”

“Don’t start!” he snapped angrily. “Go inside, and you better get rid of all that crap, do you understand me? You aren’t keeping it in my house. Either it goes or you do. Sell it, I don’t care. You’re not going to be a Category anymore, got that?”

Jongin clenched his jaw, pocketing the joints again and pushing past Kyungsoo without giving a reply. A moment later, he was storming out the front door, slamming it violently.

Kyungsoo went inside, closing the balcony door, less angrily than Jongin had the other. He sat on the couch, and stayed there for hours, curled up in the blanket.

“

Chanyeol walked into his apartment, switching on the light and kicking off his shoes, calling out to his boyfriend that he was home and was going to take a shower quickly. He went into the bathroom, undressed, and was in the shower in seconds, but wasn’t out for several minutes. He was amazed that Baekhyun wasn’t banging on the door, telling him to hurry out and come eat dinner. When he got out, he moved into their room and pulled on his pajamas, not caring if it was early.

Baekhyun was being awfully quiet. Unusually so. He would normally at least have said hello to Chanyeol when he’d come in. What was he up to?

Chanyeol went out to the kitchen, but the light was off there too. That should have been his first sign. He flicked it on, and Baekhyun wasn’t in the room. Nor was he in the living room, nor anywhere else in the apartment.

“Alright, Baek, this isn’t funny,” Chanyeol called out. “You can come out now.”

But Baekhyun didn’t come out. Baekhyun had disappeared. Chanyeol turned the place upside down and Baekhyun was nowhere to be found. It didn’t take long before he started panicking.

“Baekhyun? Baekhyun!” He tried calling Baekhyun’s cell phone, but it went straight to his voicemail. Practically hyperventilating, he started screaming Baekhyun’s name, as if that would materialize the boy. He couldn’t even rationalize anything. Baekhyun wouldn’t have gone shopping this late; he was always home with dinner ready for Chanyeol when Chanyeol got off work, which was at five unless he got held up. It was nearly six-thirty now.

The door opened, and Baekhyun stepped in, looking worried. The second Chanyeol saw him, he catapulted himself at the boy, arms flinging to his shoulders and jerking Baekhyun in to kiss him furiously. They collided with the wall, and Baekhyun gasped, the wind being knocked out of him, but Chanyeol didn’t stop until Baekhyun forcefully shoved him away, trying to catch a breath.

“Where were you?!”

Chanyeol felt so dizzy, he had to lean up against the wall, but he ended up sliding down it. Baekhyun kneeled down beside him, wide-eyed, brushing hair out of his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Baekhyun asked delicately.

“Where were you?” Chanyeol repeated urgently. “I thought you were dead, gosh!”

Baekhyun bit his lip. “I’m sorry Chanyeol, I – I ended being later than I’d thought. I hadn’t even realized the time…”

“Why isn’t your phone on? You could have at least told me where you were!”

“I had to turn it off,” Baekhyun said nervously.

“Why? What were you doing? Were you at the hospital? Is everything okay?” Chanyeol was still feeling alarmed, because he didn’t know what was going on with Baekhyun, but he seemed to be really afraid for some reason, and that reason seemed to be Chanyeol. The older mumbled something, but Chanyeol couldn’t understand it. “What’d you say?” he asked.

“I… I got a job,” Baekhyun said, still nearly inaudibly.

Chanyeol felt his stomach drop. “I was scared to death that you had been killed out there – for that?”

“Please don’t lecture me, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun pleaded, eyes round and fearful. “I’ve said the same thing to you a hundred times now.”

“Yes, but you know what my job is. You know I have a job! And I already told you, it’s not going to make any difference for you to start working! I don’t want you out there right now anyways, Baek, it’s not safe-”

“You’re out there all the time!” Baekhyun burst out, throwing his hands in the air. Chanyeol’s heart stuttered in shock at his boyfriend’s explosion. “In one of the most dangerous positions you can be in, and I hardly ever say a word about it! You know I don’t like it! I’m perfectly safe at this job-”

“You’re not safe anywhere!” Chanyeol cried. Because people were dying. People were killing. Everyone had lost their minds and were dying to survive the madness. And safe in this apartment, Baekhyun didn’t experience it like Chanyeol did. “People are crazy out there! I know, I see it! And I don’t want you right in the middle of it!”

“How do you think I feel?” Baekhyun shouted. “You think it’s bad for you? It’s so much worse for me! But this-” He ripped up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal his tattoo. “- this stupid ing set of numbers that you made me get keeps me safe! Nothing is keeping you safe! No one cares if you’re Confirmed – you’re enemy number one to the public! So don’t act like it’s so hard for you!”

“Don’t swear like that,” Chanyeol choked, because Baekhyun didn’t swear vulgarly almost ever. Chanyeol’s vision blurred at the thought that he’d made the boy so angry that he was swearing so violently at him.

“Stop telling me what to do!” And Baekhyun started crying too, because they didn’t yell at each other. They didn’t fight like this. And neither of them wanted to, not now, not ever. It had never, ever been like this between them. Because they loved each other, and took care of each other; they didn’t get mad and scream at each other. The world was making them crazy too. “Let me do what I want!” Baekhyun took hold of his shoulders, shaking him roughly. “Just let me do this! Let me protect you! I just want to be the one to protect you for once…”

He sobbed, leaning forward and resting his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder, tears pouring from his eyes and soaking Chanyeol’s shirt. Chanyeol cried with him, wrapping his arms around him gently and pulling him in, trying to hold him – both of them – together.

“I c-can’t do this,” Baekhyun wept. “I can’t, Chanyeol…”

“I know,” Chanyeol whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want this to happen anymore… I’m so sorry I’m hurting you…” His tears ran down his cheeks in an endless stream, but he didn’t even care, only worried about Baekhyun. “I never wanted this, Baekhyun, I’m so sorry.”

“Maybe I should go,” Baekhyun suggested through his sobs. “S-stay with my parents for a while or something.”

“No – please, please don’t leave me Baekhyun,” Chanyeol begged, pulling him back to meet his eyes desperately. “Baekhyun, I can’t do this without you! I can’t do anything without you… I’m already just barely making it through, and it’s because I know I’ve still got you. If you’re gone…” He couldn’t even stand thinking about it. He just… couldn’t – couldn’t exist without Baekhyun. “Please stay. Keep the job, I don’t care, just please don’t leave me.”

Baekhyun stared into his eyes for a moment, agony reflecting in his eyes, and then he collapsed into Chanyeol’s shoulder again, overcome with despair. “I couldn’t do it anyway. I couldn’t leave you. I don’t want to leave you, Chanyeol, I’m sorry. I just want this to be over…”

Chanyeol couldn’t even find it in himself to reassure him anymore, because it felt like this never was going to end. So he just stayed there and cried, holding onto the one thing that was his entire world, trying to keep the pieces from falling apart and splintering anymore than they already had.

A/n: So this chapter just gradually got more and more sad, I don't know what happened. Oh boy, so much more in store for you guys. Happy holidays! Please vote, sub, comment, rec, whatever you feel like doing ㅋㅋ Thanks! ^.^