The Portrait

     A month passed in this fashion, with Chanyeol meeting Baekhyun for his scheduled appointments on Wednesdays, followed by a date at the café. Their relationship remained fixed and comfortable. Sometimes Chanyeol would become unsettled by Baekhyun’s mysterious tendencies. At other times he’d get lost in those warm smiles and how his body lit up every time they touched.

     People took notice of Chanyeol’s sprightly mood. He began reporting to work on time, spoke more often and with a steadier confidence, sketched nonstop during his free time, and most importantly, never stopped smiling. Whatever Baekhyun had done had worn off on him.

     “Where is all of this newfound confidence coming from?” Inquired Jongin during yet another shift at the bar, “Because I like it!”

     Chanyeol shrugged with feigned indifference, determined not to spill the beans lest his friend get too many ideas. “I don’t know.”

     “I call bull, Park,” Jongin smirked while wiping dry a freshly washed martini glass, “I think you do know. You’re just harboring secrets. Spill ‘em.”

     “Nope.”

     “Aw! Come on! I’m your best bud!”

     “That’s what wwworries me.”

     Jongin placed the dried glass with the clean ones before folding his arms to his chest. “Don’t think I haven’t figured out what’s been going on. It has something to do with that speech pathologist of yours,” He delivered his blow with accusing eyes, “You guys ed didn’t you?”

     Chanyeol nearly dropped a bottle of peach liqueur. “Wha! J-J-Jongin!” He should be accustomed to his friend’s blunt nature but sometimes he was a bit too direct.

     “Well, did you?”

     “No!”

     “Tch!” Jongin bit the side of his lip and shook his head, “It’s been over a month. Don’t tell me you’re still at the hand holding stage.” 

     Chanyeol opened his mouth and paused.

     “I swear on the reliability of my stockpile of condoms,” threatened Jongin, “If you tell me you guys haven’t even kissed yet, I’m going to smother you with this dishrag.”

     Chanyeol remained frozen in place as he searched for a plausible excuse. “Um…”

     In a blur of movement, Jongin crossed the space between them, grabbed his friend by the nape and shoved the dirty wash rag into his mouth. Chanyeol’s muffled cry echoed throughout the bar.

     Kris poked his head out of a nearby doorway in a cloud of cigar smoke. “Kim! Park! Stop messin’ around! Clean up yer ‘n go home!”

     “Sure thing boss!” Jongin called over his shoulder, unaffected by their boss's crass attitude.

     Chanyeol gagged and spit out the rag. “You’re d-d-disgusting!” he wailed, eyes cutting into the other like razor blades.

     Jongin smiled all too politely. “Next time you guys go out on a date, make a move, and this won’t happen again.”

     As irked as Chanyeol was, he knew his friend was right, even if he did have a convoluted way of getting his point across. It was time to progress forward with he and Baekhyun's relationship because they couldn’t continue on like this forever. It was probably wrong to ask for such a thing from Baekhyun, the pathologist was sure to think it unprofessional, but Chanyeol had to try. Good things didn’t come his way very often and he wasn’t about to let it all slip through his fingertips.

     Leaving the bar that night, Chanyeol made a silent promise to himself, that he’d take the first leap on their date the following day.

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     It just so happened that Chanyeol had the day off. They forwent their typical meet up after his appointment and met up that evening instead. Since all he'd done at home was restless pacing, he arrived at the café over an hour early, using the extra time to work out his strategy. It was terribly cold, yet Baekhyun's smile radiated warmth, and any second thoughts or doubts were swiftlycast aside as Chanyeol ordered their coffee from Minseok. The barista had grown accustomed to their frequent visits but still glanced in their direction more often than not. Somehow it didn’t sit well with Chanyeol.

     "You seem a bit off today," mentioned Baekhyun. The café was packed but they were still able to snag their favorite table by the window. The little white lights in the trees outside twinkled in the breeze, a reminder of the holidays that were swiftly approaching.

     "Actually..." Chanyeol calculated his next words carefully. "I was hoping that we... c-c-could do a little something... d-different." Not bad considering he'd only been attending his new speech therapy sessions for about a month.

     Baekhyun seemed to approve of his client’s efforts. "Oh? And what, may I ask, did you have in mind?"

     "Maybe dinner? Or a... mmmovie?" Chanyeol maintained eye contact with his bright-eyed muse. Ever since he'd met Baekhyun he hadn't been unable to resist the urge to draw, taking up pencil and paper every chance he got. Sometimes he sketched with purpose, although most of the time, he let his hands and fingers lead the way.

     Every ounce of Chanyeol's time was devoted to either work, Baekhyun, or sketching, and it was beginning to show in the way that he carried himself. Under-eye circles were forever prominent on the bartender's face, yet ironically enough, he hadn’t felt this great in years. Everything made sense to Chanyeol now. Everything had a purpose.

     Baekhyun took a long sip of his coffee before placing it to the table. "Sounds good. I vote for your place."

     Chanyeol swallowed. Well he certainly hadn't been expecting that, nor was he prepared for it. Surely Baekhyun's place was much nicer. "But my apartment... it's... not in the best nnneighborhood."

     "Well if you don't want me to come over..." Baekhyun teased.

     “No! I do!” Chanyeol jolted in his chair, earning a disapproving look from the couple at a nearby table.

     Baekhyun chuckled and adjusted the cream-colored scarf wrapped around his neck. “Let’s go. We can sip our coffee on the way there. Yeah?”

     Chanyeol nodded despite his apprehension about bringing his date to his dilapidated apartment. “Alright,” he mumbled.

     They exited the café with jackets zipped and hands stuffed in their pockets for warmth. On their way out, Minseok’s worried expression through the glass window did not go unnoticed. Chanyeol watched uncomfortably as the barista picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number.

     “You coming?” asked Baekhyun.

     Chanyeol wrenched his gaze from the window and fell in line with Baekhyun, walking close enough for their shoulders and arms to touch, craving that familiar spark of warmth he’d grown to love so much.

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     They arrived at Chanyeol’s apartment building right as the evening light slipped below the urban skyline, hands rubbing together furiously to create warmth, breaths puffing out in mists of humid white. Chanyeol led them up the old staircase and through the metal door to his floor.

     “This is me,” Chanyeol jiggled the key into the lock and shouldered open the stubborn door. It creaked as he held it open so Baekhyun could pass through. Once inside the resounding click of the door made Chanyeol wince. This was the first time he’d invited anyone other than Jongin to his place. “Sorry,” He pulled off his newsboy cap and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before flicking on the light, “I know it isn’t mmmuch.”

     Baekhyun squinted at the sudden wash of florescent light but smiled heartily at the humble apartment. “I kind of like it. Somehow it suits you.”

     Tension uncoiled from Chanyeol’s lanky frame. Baekhyun was the only person in the world who could make him forget why he’d even been anxious to start with.

     “Well,” began the pathologist, “Do I get a tour?”

     Chanyeol laughed airily. “I guess. But… there’s not much to... s-see.”

     Baekhyun waved off his handsome host. “It’s all the same. Now show me the artist’s cave,” he grinned from ear to ear, drawing another laugh out of Chanyeol.

     Still clad in their jackets, Chanyeol gave a modest tour of his apartment — outdated kitchen, bathroom, tattered sofa and all. Baekhyun seemed intrigued by Chanyeol’s lifestyle, and when they entered the bedroom, his grin pulled up that much higher, eyes squinting with glee at the sketches taped across the paint-peeled walls. Nausea twisted and churned in Chanyeol’s gut. He had that eerie feeling again, felt it all the way down to his bones until it made him shiver beneath his leather jacket.

     “Why the funny look?” Baekhyun stood before Chanyeol and looked right into his chocolate-colored eyes, “You seem shocked.”

     “Baekhyun…” Chanyeol took a shaky breath as he looked at the sketches. There must have been a hundred or more covering the walls. “I don’t remember... d-d-drawing these.”

     Baekhyun hummed in the back of his throat, extending a hand to slip it beneath Chanyeol’s jacket. “Well, you wouldn’t. Now would you?”

     Chanyeol's breath hitched at the press of cold fingertips through the scratchy fabric of his sweater. “I don’t–”

     “Look carefully, Chanyeol. What do you see in each one of these sketches?”

     The bartender allowed his eyes to scan the drawings on the wall. There were scenes of the city, of the café, and of the park, but all of them had one thing in common – a mysterious figure peeking from the shadows. At times it was standing out in the open. At others, it could be seen peeking around the corner of a building. It was with a pale and sickly expression that Chanyeol realized the figure was getting closer and closer with each monochromatic sketch.

     His most recent work stood out from all the rest. He must have drawn at the park one morning because the scene was from the perspective of his usual park bench. Across the paved walkway, there was an empty park bench, and standing right behind it was the mysterious figure, except this time it was smiling at him. Chanyeol looked to Baekhyun with fear in his eyes.

     “You’re so close to figuring it out,” Baekhyun tugged off Chanyeol’s leather jacket and let it drop to the floor, "It's only a matter of time."

     Though the current situation was anything but romantic or heated, Chanyeol couldn’t resist the other’s hungry gaze, like Baekhyun wanted to devour and savor him piece by delectable piece. He knew what Baekhyun wanted, because he wanted it too, had been wanting it ever since he’d been plagued by impure dreams and visions of his speech pathologist.

     Chanyeol was frightened and overrun with constant doubt but also drowning in admiration for the individual he’d come to care for more than himself. Baekhyun was everything he desired to be — successful, happy, and confident. Was it so wrong to want a piece of that?

     “I have faith in you, Park Chanyeol,” Baekhyun whispered, threading cold fingertips through Chanyeol’s ruffled hair.

     Those words were all it took for Chanyeol to finally snap. He moved without thinking and pulled the other flush against his chest. He wrapped Baekhyun in his arms, sought out eager lips and swallowed every gasp he received in return as if he’d been dying of an immortal thirst. Baekhyun's scent seized his senses before scattering them to the wind, causing the lines of reality to blur until they stumbled and fell onto the bed together.

     Chanyeol could no longer differentiate which hands were Baekhyun’s and which ones were his. Kisses were feverish, humid, and laced with the misplaced sweetness of bourbon on tongues. The teasing of flesh in the most sensitive of places had Chanyeol digging his nails into skin, hissing at the retaliating burn that tore across his chest. Through the haze of arousal, he watched as Baekhyun's slick body arched overhead, sparks curling along Chanyeol’s spine as a muffled cry bled from his swollen lips. The sight alone was more than his body could handle.

     Pleasure came to a passionate and abrupt end in a flourish of erratic breaths and racing heartbeats. Baekhyun collapsed on top of Chanyeol, skin slick with sweat, muscles twitching and body aching as Chanyeol stared at his reflection in blown out pupils. He felt as though he might suffocate from the heavy gaze that bore down upon his soul. Such a deep level of emotional attachment was almost too much to bear.

     “I love you, Chanyeol.” The confession echoed somewhere within the dark confines of the bartender’s subconscious mind.

     “I love you too, Baekhyun,” he replied lazily, lids beginning to droop.

     Chanyeol fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat thumping rhythmically in his ears.

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     He awoke before sunrise to a cold and empty apartment with the low hum of the heating unit echoing throughout his room. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Chanyeol sat up in bed, wincing at the sting that danced across his chest. A glance down revealed four parallel scratches that stretched from collarbone to lower rib. He couldn't recall exactly how he’d received them but guessed it’d happened at some point during his encounter with Baekhyun last night. Speaking of Baekhyun, where was he?

     Chanyeol swung his legs over the edge of the bed and noted that only his clothes littered the faded hardwood floor. "Baekhyun?" he called out, only to be met by continued silence. With a sudden shiver, he rubbed his arms before throwing the blanket off to the side, exposing the rest of his flesh. Slipping into his jeans, Chanyeol left the bedroom to look for Baekhyun.

     The other was nowhere to be found but Chanyeol discovered a wrinkled note on the kitchen counter. It was the first time he'd actually studied Baekhyun's handwriting. They wrote so similarly, yet Baekhyun's scrawl was decidedly more confident and neat while Chanyeol's was messier and curled. Chanyeol scoffed upon the realization that he even envied the pathologist’s handwriting. Did Baekhyun have imperfections? Probably not. At least not that he could see. Still half asleep, Chanyeol rubbed his eyes and read the letter.

Bartender,

Sorry I skipped out early but I had a few things to take care of.

I'll be looking forward to our next appointment.

See you soon.

- B

P.S. Sorry about the scratches. Haha...whoops. ;)

     Chanyeol smiled crookedly at the last line but it faded with the sudden arrival of disappointment. He didn't know why he’d had it in his mind that they'd wake up together and flow through the motions that couples typically did – talking under the warm blankets first thing in the morning, taking a hot shower together, washing each other's hair before having a repeat of the night before, followed by coffee and breakfast and a lingering goodbye kiss. Though highly clique, Chanyeol desired it nonetheless.

     Sighing quietly, he stuck the note to the refrigerator with a cheap magnet. The last person to leave him notes had been his mother, but that was before he’d dropped out of college. It felt good having someone who cared enough to leave him notes again. Holding that comforting thought in mind, Chanyeol headed for the shower, and as the steaming water trickled across his skin, he imagined Baekhyun's beautiful, deft fingers seeking out forbidden places and gave into his desires all over again.

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     "Your father would like to see you at dinner this evening," stated his mother with an air of finality.

     Chanyeol balanced phone between shoulder and ear as he worked on spicing a pot of boiling noodles. "But I'm eating now. And I have to... w-work this... afternoon."

     There was a period of silence followed by a sigh. "You should have plenty of time to have dinner and still make it to work on time." It sounded as though Mrs. Park muffled the phone against her chest to speak to someone, most likely Chanyeol's father. The only reason they wanted him over was to interrogate him about his new speech pathologist. He'd been avoiding the subject every time his mother called. "Can you be here by four?" she asked.

     Go figure. That was an hour before Chanyeol's shift at The Blue Lantern. He would have to text Jongin to let him know that he'd be late. Kris was guaranteed to be displeased but at least it was a weeknight. "Fine," Chanyeol flipped off the knob to the stove and began straining the noodles.

     "See you then. Don't be late." An expected click plunged the line into silence. Chanyeol tossed his phone onto the counter with an irritated huff. Placing the strained noodles into a bowl, he stared at the steam rising off of them. No matter how much he wanted to skip dinner with his parents, he knew it'd warrant worse consequences should he refuse. He'd done that once before and it had resulted in them showing up on his doorstep. Chanyeol shook his head. That had been a bad day and he'd rather not repeat it.

     He scarfed down the noodles while sitting on the sofa, opting for silence as he stared at his reflection in the dark grey screen of the television. Sometimes Chanyeol thought he saw a little bit of Baekhyun within himself, and although unexpected, he welcomed it. If only he could be someone else for the evening. If only he could be Baekhyun.

     Resting metal chopsticks on the brim of his bowl, Chanyeol felt something bubble from within, riding its way up his throat with a hint of woodsy bourbon. Lips curled up slowly at first before stretching wide, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth, eyes squinting to make room for the joyous invasion that overtook his countenance.

     Maybe he could do this after all.

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     Chanyeol approached the iron gate and pressed the intercom button where it buzzed before the gate swung open. Adjusting his tie and smoothing down his suit one last time, he pressed onward with confidence, ringing the doorbell on the front porch where he was promptly greeted by one of the butlers who saw him inside.

     "You're unusually early," said Mrs. Park as she crossed the marble floor and inspected her son's tie. She seemed surprised that she didn't have to fix it this time.

     "Well," replied Chanyeol, words firm and smile cordial, "I wouldn't want to miss out on the food."

     Mrs. Park arched a brow and cleared . "Your father is in his study. Why don't you visit him. Dinner should be ready shortly."

     Chanyeol excused himself and sought out his father's study that overlooked the gardens. Pushing open the large white doors, he found his father standing before the expansive window, watching the sunset.

     The subtle creek of the doors pulled Mr. Park from of his reverie, eyebrows rising questioningly above the golden rim of his glasses. "Son? You look...," the elder paused while taking in his son's well organized appearance, "very nice."

     Chanyeol grinned. It was the closest thing to a heartfelt comment as his father got. "Thank you," he replied firmly.

     Mr. Park approached his son, hands clasped behind his back. "Speech therapy sessions going well?"

     Chanyeol nodded, and for a moment, thought he saw a whisper of a smile at the corner of his father's lips. Before they had a chance to dive further into conversation, Mrs. Park poked her head into the room. "Dinner is ready."

     They sat at a dining room table large enough to seat over twenty people. Chanyeol recalled the times he'd eaten in his room as a child to avoid sitting at the intimidating table all by himself while his parents were out of town. Back then Jongin would come over and keep him company. Looking back on it, he felt grateful towards his friend.

     Thankfully tonight's dinner consisted of menial conversation — the weather, gossip within the family, how Jongin was doing, and special events pertaining to Mr. Park's business. All the while Chanyeol spoke to his parents more than he had in months, still stumbling over a word or two, but completing his thoughts in a much steadier manner. It wasn't until they'd finished dessert, a rum-soaked cake, that the discussion ventured into more sensitive territory.

     "How often are you seeing this speech pathologist of yours?" inquired Mrs. Park, taking another sip of wine, leaving a red lipstick print on the rim of her glass.

     Chanyeol shifted under her prying gaze but held firmly to his newfound confidence. "We meet up every Wednesday."

     "You seem to have improved quite a bit." Mr. Park leaned back so the butler could collect his empty plate for washing in the kitchen. "Even Junmyeon wasn't able to make this much progress with you."

     Indeed their family friend, Junmyeon, was a very skilled doctor. Chanyeol couldn't remember much about the guy other than that he'd never taken a liking to him. It was difficult to like an individual you'd been forced to see. Perhaps that was why Chanyeol had forgotten him so easily. It was much easier to forget than it was to suffer through unwanted memories.

     "What is his name?" Mrs. Park's question suddenly had Chanyeol annoyed and defensive. She didn't need to know the name. The important thing was that his sessions were working. Why couldn't they be satisfied with that? But no. They had to keep prying.

     "Does it matter?" snapped Chanyeol, astounded by the words that flew out of his mouth. Where had that come from?

     "Don't speak to your mother like that." Mr. Park's tone was mildly threatening.

     "Sorry I..." Chanyeol fumbled, "I... d-d-don't know where that... c-c-came from."

     "Well?" pressed his mother, drumming her beautifully manicured nails against the mahogany tabletop.

     Agitation soared within Chanyeol yet again, but in fear of saying something out of turn, he kept his mouth shut.

     "Answer your mother, Chanyeol."

     The bartender opened his mouth but shut it again.

     "Chanyeol!" Mrs. Park raised her voice, eyes narrowing into a glare.

     The moment Mr. Park leaned across the table with that heavy, authoritative look he'd used against his son as a child, Chanyeol's resolve disintegrated. The name left his lips before he could stop it. "Baekhyun. His name is... Byun B-Baekhyun."

     A deathly silence settled over the room, save for the distant clinking of silverware and running water that echoed from the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Park eyed their son with horror stricken expressions.

     Chanyeol's mother latched onto his father's arm with tear filled eyes. "Sweetheart what do we do! We can't let this happen again! Remember what Junmyeon said!"

     Chanyeol shrunk in his chair when his father came bounding over and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Now you listen to me!" roared the elder, "You stop seeing that pathologist and you stop seeing him right now!"

     The bartender clung to his father's wrists in an attempt to loosen his grip so he could breathe. "Wh-What? Why! I'm doing just... f-f-fine!"

     "No you're not! You're going to relapse just like you did before!" Mr. Park shook Chanyeol until the younger finally pried himself from his grip.

     "You're... j-j-just trying to hold me... b-b-back!" Chanyeol challenged his father, rising from his seat with fists balled tightly at his sides.

     "Chanyeol, dear. Listen to your father." Mrs. Park interjected.

     "Why should I!" Chanyeol exploded.

     His flustered mother dashed around the table and grabbed his hand. She looked to her husband, seeming to ask a silent question, before pressing forth with the news that would shake Chanyeol down to his very core. "Because you've already met this man before."

     Though Chanyeol laughed sardonically at his mother, deep down he knew there was at least some fraction of truth hidden beneath her words. "Th-That's ridiculous!" he tried brushing her off but she stayed firm.

     "Chanyeol, sweetheart. Look at me." Chanyeol couldn't recall the last time he'd seen his mother cry, but the waver in her voice indicated she was very close to breaking down. He prepared himself for the worst. "Do you remember who Junmyeon is? What type of doctor he is?"

     Furrowing his brow, Chanyeol shook his head. "He was my speech pathologist."

     "No." She took a shaky breath. "He wasn't your speech pathologist. Chanyeol... he was your psychiatrist."

     Chanyeol shook his head and wrenched his hand from her grasp. His parents were deceiving him. They had to be. This must be some ploy to rope him into being on their side. However, one look at the sickly pallor of his father's face and Chanyeol knew something worse was coming.

     "Son. I know we don't always see eye to eye," stated Mr. Park, "And I know we've put a lot of pressure on you. But that's only because we care about you. We thought that if we raised you right... kept you busy... that you'd be alright. I see now that it backfired and... I'm sorry."

     "Wh-What are you... sssaying? You're not... mmmaking any... sssense!"

     Mrs. Park tucked a stray hair behind her son's ear and smoothed it back into place. This was odd. After all this time, why were his parents suddenly acting like parents again?

     "Now don't get upset. We can call Junmyeon and talk this out," she offered.

     "Honey, I don't think we should–" interrupted her husband.

     "He has a right to know."

     "Know what?" asked Chanyeol.

     "You've... met Byun Baekhyun on more than just one occasion," Mrs. Park supplied, "You just don't remember it."

     "I don't–"

     "Chanyeol." Mrs. Park tried to swallow down her tears but they cascaded over her pale cheeks despite her efforts. "You have multiple personality disorder. Byun Baekhyun is a personality you created. He's not real."

     Those last three words stabbed through Chanyeol like a butcher knife. Baekhyun was real. They'd had appointments together, drank coffee together, talked about things Chanyeol had never spoken about to anyone, and had even been intimate with each other. He even had the scratches on his chest to prove it. But just as quickly as he began denying the truth, Chanyeol started picking out inaccuracies that didn't quite add up — there never being a receptionist at Baekhyun's office, Baekhyun never seeming to have any other appointments, the odd looks Minseok had been giving them at the café, and the peculiar smile that often graced Chanyeol's lips even though it felt foreign to him.

     A zap of adrenaline had Chanyeol stepping back and nearly tripping over his own feet. "N-No. It's... It's not... possible. You... You guys are... lying to me!"

     Mr. Park opened his mouth to reason with his son, but before he had the chance to, his son was dashing out the door. Chanyeol didn't think about where he was going. Too many thoughts were whirling inside of his head. He ran until his lungs burned and legs threatened to give out, ignoring the worried looks he received from people along the way. It wasn't long before he passed a familiar corner and stopped in his tracks.

     What had been Baekhyun's office was now a dilapidated shop. Chanyeol thought he'd made a mistake but a quick look at the nearby street sign revealed otherwise. There were no shining windows, no silver letters embossed on a door, and no waiting room, only a hollowed out, brick hole with a caved in roof. Many a time he'd left this place and received odd looks from people. Now he knew why. There hadn't even been an office to begin with. Chanyeol thought about those soothing cups of coffee he'd shared with Baekhyun, about the warmth of his fingertips and the smoothness of his skin. Suddenly he felt very, very lonely.

     As if on cue, the sky opened up to coat the city in a blanket of frigid rain. Chanyeol remained rooted in place for quite some time, taking no notice of the water that soaked his clothes and plunged the winter chill straight into his bones. He eyed the dark void of the rundown shop, and ironically, found that it mirrored the hole within his heart. He loved Baekhyun. It wasn't possible to fall in love with another side of yourself. Was it?

     Chanyeol only knew of one place to go. If he hurried, he'd be able to catch Jongin before he left for work. Hailing a taxi, Chanyeol hopped into the yellow car and made his way across town, watching as the city passed by in a blur of graphite and charcoal.

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     Jongin had just finished dressing when someone pounded violently on his apartment door. He dashed out of his messy bedroom and flung it open, not surprised at all to see Chanyeol dripping from head to toe, hair stuck to his forehead and shivering violently.

     "D-D-Did you know?" choked Chanyeol with a quivering lip.

     "Yes... I did." Jongin took one look at his friend and sighed. "Geezus Chanyeol! You're shaking like a leaf. Come inside and we'll talk."

     Stepping into the warm apartment, Chanyeol stayed on the mat at the door until Jongin came back with a towel and a fresh change of clothes in hand. They didn't say much as Chanyeol dried off and accepted the offered clothes.

     "Hurry up and change before you get sick. I'll be out here waiting," supplied Jongin.

     "What about the... b-b-bar?" Chanyeol sneezed.

     "We've got time. Besides," the other flashed a worried smile, "This is more important."

     Chanyeol nodded feebly and shuffled into the bathroom. He flicked on the light and shut the door behind him. Jongin had a considerably smaller frame than himself. The gray sweatshirt fit for the most part, however, the pants looked more like capris on Chanyeol's lanky legs. In any case, he was grateful for his friend's generosity.

     After gathering up his wet clothes, Chanyeol made the mistake of looking in the mirror. It wasn't there anymore, the smile that had given Chanyeol confidence and reassurance in his most dire times was gone. Only a plain bartender with a speech impediment remained. He never realized how much he hated himself until now.

     As promised, Jongin was sitting on one of his white sofas, forearms to knees with hands interlocked as he looked up at his friend, worry heavy across tan and sharp facial features. "Warm blanket?" he asked.

     "Yeah," replied Chanyeol, "I'm f-f-freezing."

     Jongin retrieved the blanket he'd stashed in the dryer, and with a mischievous smirk, tossed it over Chanyeol's head before claiming a spot on the nearest sofa cushion. Chanyeol followed suit and sat quietly for several minutes, not knowing how to proceed. What was he supposed to say? Hey Jongin? That speech therapist I've been dating is actually a figment of my imagination. How does it feel to have a friend that's crazy?

     Perhaps Jongin sensed his hesitation because the he took the first step. "Minseok called me. That's how I knew it'd happened again." Jongin grabbed a nearby pillow, tossed it in his lap and began picking at a corner.

     “That explains a lot,” replied Chanyeol.

     "So... your speech therapist. I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that his name is Baekhyun,” Chanyeol nodded and Jongin continued, "I'm not surprised. I've met him a few times."

     "When?" Chanyeol asked, head lowered as he huddled into the pleasantly warm blanket.

     "I think the first time was when we were six or so. You had an imaginary friend named Baekhyun. Your parents thought it was a phase. That is... until I started telling my mom about how I'd played with Baekhyun all day. After that they took you to see a child therapist to help break you of the habit but–"

     "But?"

     "Obviously it didn't work." Jongin's smart grin actually drew a snort out of Chanyeol who smiled faintly at the jibe.

     "And the other... t-times?" Chanyeol asked.

     "You got better after a while. But once the teasing started, he showed back up again,” Jongin took a breath before adding more, "I think it was easier for you... having Baekhyun. You got teased a lot for your speech impediment. I tried to stick up for you but I couldn't always be there. Your parents sent you back for therapy but it seemed to take longer to get you sorted out the second time around." Jongin lowered his head until his bangs were shielding his eyes.

     Chanyeol felt numb on the inside. He couldn't remember any of it. This had been going on since he'd been a kid yet he couldn't recall not one thing that seemed out of place. Not like now. "How many... m-more?

     "How many more times did Baekhyun show up?" asked Jongin to which Chanyeol nodded, "I think three times in middle school. Two in high school. And another time shortly after we graduated."

     Chanyeol had to fight back tears. To think that all this time he'd thought Jongin didn't fully understand him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. Jongin probably knew him better than anyone else did. "I'm sorry," Chanyeol whispered.

     "Don't be. It's not your fault. just happens, ya know? The important thing is to get you sorted out. Now..." Jongin stood and patted off his pants as if he were getting rid of the dirt from the past, "I've gotta be at work or else Kris will kill me. One of us has to be there to man the bar. Stay here as long as you need to but call your parents. I know you're not on the best of terms with them but they can help you. Can you trust me on that?"

     Chanyeol looked up to his friend and nodded. "Thanks, Jongin. You know... fffor being there."

     The tan bartender grinned and ruffled Chanyeol's damp hair. "Yeah, yeah~ Don't get all mushy and sentimental on me. I'll tell Kris you're not feeling well. And make sure you lock the door on your way out. I've got es lining up to get a piece of this and I don't want any of them rummaging through my apartment."

     Chanyeol rolled his eyes. "Go to work you idiot."

     With a cheesy grin and an extravagant bow, Jongin was out the door, leaving Chanyeol to his own devices. Chanyeol spent a long time staring at the wall across the room. It wasn't until the heat had settled back into his muscles that he was able to think clearly again. Walking across the room, he snatched the phone off its cradle on the wall and dialed his parents.

     "Jongin!" answered a flustered Mrs. Park, "Jongin is that you! Have you heard from Chanyeol?"

     "Mom,” Chanyeol's shaky voice echoed off the walls, "I... I want to come home."

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     Chanyeol took the next couple of days off from work to think and make some decisions. Ever since his rude awakening, he hadn't seen or heard from Baekhyun. He knew he should feel grateful for his other personality's absence but all he felt was heartbreak and disappointment. It was no different than losing a friend, lover, or family member. It was as if Baekhyun had died or disappeared without so much as a goodbye. Chanyeol's other half was missing and he felt lost and alone without him.

     During his stay at the mansion, Chanyeol remained in his bedroom on the first day. Although he hadn't slept there in a couple of years, everything was exactly how he'd left it. It meant his mother had seen to it that her son's room remain the same should he ever decide to return home. His parents had been tough on him, almost unbearably so, but he was beginning to realize they weren't as heartless as he'd thought. Plus who knew what else he'd forgotten over the years. The gaps in his memory were the most disturbing of all. Given the circumstances, though, remaining blind to the darker times of his life didn't seem like such a bad idea.

     Chanyeol groaned and shoved his face into the mattress in an effort to muffle his despair. He'd been doing this for hours, going back and forth, unable to reach a solid decision despite how hard he picked apart his thoughts. Suddenly a light knocking sounded on his bedroom door.

     "Chanyeol?" Mrs. Park stuck her head into the room. "Junmyeon's here. Why don't you come downstairs and I'll make us all some tea?"

     Chanyeol motioned his consent with an airy hand and mumbled into the mattress. "Be right down."

     As soon as the door clicked shut, he sat up in bed with a tired sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Something told him the next hour was going to be awful. He'd been dreading his meeting with Junmyeon, but he needed some concrete answers, and the psychiatrist was the only one who could provide them. Drawing in a calming breath, the lanky bartender arose from his bed and entered the hallway, sock clad feet dragging across the carpet on his journey towards what was supposed to be his salvation. The question was... did he want it?

     He entered the main living area to find a cozy fire cracking in the oversized fireplace. A familiar man, whom Chanyeol immediately recognized as Junmyeon, sat next to his father on the sofa. It was odd seeing him now. Everyone had been telling him that the man had been his psychiatrist, yet there was still a missing puzzle piece, a blank space in Chanyeol's memory that made him shy away from reality. He wanted to believe that Junmyeon had been his speech pathologist. God how he wished that was the case, because Junmyeon's smile didn't shine as bright as the sun like Baekhyun's, he didn't radiate warmth and security like Baekhyun did.

     "Chanyeol, it's been a while,” The doctor's voice was smooth and gentle as he motioned for Chanyeol to sit on the neighboring sofa, "Have a seat. We have a lot of catching up to do."

     Shuffling across the room, Chanyeol claimed a seat, focusing on his hands when his father walked over and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Only psychiatrist and patient were left in the room. Junmyeon wasted no time in getting started.

     "How have you been? Have you been holding up alright?"

     Chanyeol swallowed, and in a desperate grab for that familiar sense of security Baekhyun had given him, tried to remember the exercises he'd learned. "As well as could be expected." He spoke slowly.

     "That's good," provided Junmyeon, "The important thing is that you're working through it and not running away from it."

     The bartender shifted in his seat. He felt like a slide under a microscope as he was left to the mercy of the psychiatrist's evaluation, because that was exactly what this was, an assessment to determine whether he was stable enough to remain at home.

     Receiving no reply from his patient, Junmyeon continued. "How long has it been since you took your medicine?"

     Chanyeol tilted his head to the side, opened his mouth, then closed it. He couldn't recall ever being given any medicine. One fleeting glance at Junmyeon's pleasant expression had him conjuring up a little white lie. "A c-couple months ago."

     "I see. And when do you first recall seeing Baekhyun?" asked the doctor, folding hands to lap, a professional smile still plastered to thin lips.

     Chanyeol didn't like the way Baekhyun's name rolled of Junmyeon's tongue. "About a month ago."

     Right at that moment, Mrs. Park entered the room with a silver tray in her hands, porcelain tea kettle and cups at the ready. "Would you like some chamomile tea?" she asked while placing the tray on the glass coffee table.

     "That'd be wonderful, thank you," Junmyeon replied courteously.

     "I..." Chanyeol stirred under his mother's worried stare, "I'll p-pass… for now." She seemed to accept this before leaving with a sad smile.

     Junmyeon blew on his tea before taking a small sip and clearing his throat. "Before we go any further, do you have any questions for me, Chanyeol?"

     The psychiatrist was flipping this around onto Chanyeol, allowing the patient to do the talking to see where it led. How Chanyeol knew this, he was unsure, but he accepted the offer nonetheless. He proceeded carefully and made sure to take his time to think things through before speaking.

     "How mmmany times… have you mmmet, Baekhyun?" What Chanyeol really wanted to know was how long he'd known the doctor without coming right out an asking it.

     "Three that I know of."

     Three. Judging by what Jongin had told him, Chanyeol deduced that he'd started having sessions with Junmyeon sometime during high school.

     Before Chanyeol could formulate his next question, Junmyeon elaborated. "I think it's imperative that you know Baekhyun's visits have gotten longer each time."

     "Wh-What d-do you m-m-mean?" That bit of news surprised the bartender.

     Junmyeon placed his teacup to the coffee table, gaze suddenly much more serious than before, boring into Chanyeol as if he were trying to convey the importance of his words. "The first time I met Baekhyun, he stayed for four months. The second time, he stayed for seven. The third time around, we hardly saw Chanyeol for over a year."

     Chanyeol felt the blood drain from his face. It'd happened for that long? He'd allowed Baekhyun to take over his life for more than a year? No wonder he couldn't remember a lot of things.

     "Chanyeol..." Junmyeon leaned forward almost as if he wanted to reach across the table and sandwich Chanyeol's hands between his own. "We... your parents and I... we're afraid that if you let Baekhyun take over again... that he won't want to leave."

     Chanyeol's throat clenched up at the implication. "What are you... t-trying to... sssay?"

     "What I'm trying to say is... if you allow Baekhyun to take over one more time... we're afraid that it'll be permanent."

     "You mean?"

     "Yes. Park Chanyeol as we know him will cease to exist. That is why your parents and I have decided that it's best that we take you someplace safe. Somewhere where you can be monitored and treated until you get better."

     And there it was, the thing Chanyeol had feared would happen. They wanted to send him to the crazy house where he'd be locked up for god only knows how long. He could barely stand his small apartment as it was. How was he supposed function while being encased in four white walls? This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't what he needed. Yet he couldn't see a way around it either. Instead Chanyeol bought himself some time.

     "Okay," he replied, gaze focused on the crackling flames in the fireplace, "I... I'll go."

     Junmyeon exhaled a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad to hear that. You've made the right decision, Chanyeol."

     "But on one condition," he added.

     Junmyeon could've said no, but instead, nodded with a small smile. "I'll see what I can do," he promised.

     "Can I have a day? To tell work and... sssay goodbye to some... p-p-people?"

     Junmyeon's expression softened. "I think that can be arranged."

     Chanyeol relaxed into his seat. He'd managed to buy himself a day. At the very least, he could spend his last day of freedom drawing in the park. His drawings were all he had left now that Baekhyun was gone. Chanyeol frowned and held a hand over the aching spot where his heart should be. Heartbreak was a horrible emotion to cope with. This time Baekhyun wasn't around to help him through it.

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     Jongin had been nice enough to volunteer his time and take Chanyeol out the following day. They spent most of the day packing Chanyeol's things but went to the café that afternoon and chatted with Minseok while ordering their coffee. Chanyeol considered pulling out his sketchbook but thought better of it. Those drawings were a snippet of his and Baekhyun's time together. Chanyeol felt as though he'd be doing something unfaithful by showing them to Jongin, so he kept his sketchbook tucked tightly into the flap of his leather backpack, content to wait until later to complete one last piece he had in mind.

     If the barista, Minseok, knew of Chanyeol's impending move to the mental hospital, he didn't let on that he did. Perhaps it was better this way. Chanyeol liked pretending that everything was normal, like he was okay with the decisions he'd been forced to make. Ironically the table he and Jongin sat at was their table, and the fact that his friend sat in Baekhyun's seat made Chanyeol want to curl into himself that much more.

     "You okay there, Park?" asked Jongin.

     Chanyeol smiled meekly and nodded as he concentrated on the warmth his beverage provided to his chilled fingertips. "Yeah," he replied, voice hoarse from all the crying he'd done in his bedroom the night before. He missed Baekhyun and wanted to see him. If only Chanyeol could talk to him one last time maybe things wouldn't have to be this bad. Maybe he could tell Baekhyun that he needed to figure things out on his own. Maybe Baekhyun would say okay and understand.

     Jongin must have sensed his friend's inner battle because they didn't talk as they sipped their coffee. Chanyeol did, however, observe the familiar lady in the corner reading the newspaper with a somber look on her face, along with the homeless man across the street and his scruffy dog. Chanyeol even watched Minseok as he whipped up orders left and right with that same crooked smile he always had before telling someone to have a nice day. It was then that Chanyeol realized he'd been too wrapped up in other people's stories, when the one story he should've been focused on, the one story that should've been the most important was his own.

     Suddenly Chanyeol was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar tune. The café had always played music in the background but he'd never paid much attention to it. He allowed his eyes to close as he listened to the melody that reminded him of rainy nights in the city, of fresh puddles on sidewalks, and a tangible love that could be seen but not grasped. The song meant so much more to him now and caused his throat to clench up.

     "Jongin?" he asked.

     "Hm?"

     "Will you... take me to the park?"

     "Yeah," replied his friend, "Gonna do some drawing?"

     Chanyeol nodded as Jongin gathered their empty cups and tossed them into the trash. Just as they were about to walk out the door the barista spoke.

     "Bye, Chanyeol,” The bartender looked up to see the young male smiling sadly, "I'm going to miss your visits."

     Chanyeol managed a smile in return. He was thankful towards Minseok but didn't know how to express it. Pulling the backpack off his shoulder and opening the flap, Chanyeol flipped through his sketchbook and peeked through a few pages until he found the one he wanted. He tore it out carefully and folded it in half before walking over to the counter and handing it to the Minseok.

     "Thank you," Chanyeol said simply. Then with a polite tip of his newsboy cap, he was out the door, walking down the sidewalk with Jongin closely in tow.

     Slightly calloused fingertips opened the folded paper and the barista smiled at the portrait he held in his hands. Did he really look that cheery when he was working? Perhaps that was just how Chanyeol saw him. He considered hanging it up in the café but decided to keep it for himself as a reminder to keep smiling, even on the days when he felt like he couldn't.

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     "Do you want me to come with you?" Jongin stood outside the opened gate of the city park as Chanyeol readjusted the backpack on his shoulder.

     "I'd like to... b-b-be alone... if that's alright?" Chanyeol shifted uneasily on his feet. It felt odd having to ask permission for something he'd done by himself a hundred times before, but knew Junmyeon had talked with Jongin before they'd left earlier that day.

     "I'm not supposed to," began his friend, "but that bone-head-of-a-boss of ours already sent me a text telling me to 'hurry the hell up 'cause the bar ain't gonna clean itself!’ " The way Jongin mimicked Kris' accent had Chanyeol snickering. "Alright, I'll leave you to it but don't take too long. I don't want to get my chewed out by your mother."

     "Okay. I won't... t-t-take long."

     Jongin hurried to the bar while Chanyeol ventured through the park, pulling his jacket tighter and zipping it all the way up to his neck. The weather station was calling for snow, and it was cold enough that he didn't pass but a couple of people on his path to his favorite park bench.

     Placing his backpack to the left, Chanyeol sat on the cold, wooden bench and pulled out his sketchbook and a freshly sharpened graphite pencil. He had one last sketch in mind, one that had been picking at the back of his mind for the past couple of days. With pencil in hand, he began filling in the last page of his story.

     The chill of winter clung to the air as penciled graphite scratched across paper, grayish lines swirling into deeper, more passionate , giving birth to words hidden beneath a mask of artistic expression. Chanyeol furrowed his brow and nibbled on a plump lower lip, chocolate eyes darting to this spot and that spot while fingers smudged here and there, until the monochrome portrait took on a life of its own. Blowing on the paper, he flicked a few eraser shavings off to the side, smiling at the beautiful portrait of Baekhyun that stared back at him warmly. A sudden gust of wind brought something cold and wet to the tip of Chanyeol's nose. He looked up and swore his heart stopped beating.

     Baekhyun was there, standing across the way behind the neighboring park bench, a chaste smile adorning his lips as snowflakes flitted lazily to the ground around them.

     "Baekhyun..." breathed Chanyeol.

     "Hi there, bartender." The young male walked across the path to stand directly before Chanyeol.

     "I..." Hot tears streamed down Chanyeol's rosy cheeks at he looked up at the man he'd come to love. Baekhyun was real. He was real and standing right in front of him. "I... missed you."

     "I missed you too."

     "I th-thought I'd lost you again."

     "Don't worry,” Baekhyun reached out to tuck an unruly curl behind Chanyeol's ear, "We won't lose each other again... I promise."

     Chanyeol closed his eyes, taking comfort in the warmth that radiated from Baekhyun. And as the other's lips touched his own, he felt whole again, as if the frayed pieces of his soul were being stitched back together. Chanyeol stood from the park bench, looked up to the sky and smiled as he blinked away the snowflakes that coated his eyelashes. Deep down he knew this was the ending he'd wanted all along, because a world without Baekhyun was a life not worth living, and Chanyeol didn't have much else to live for anyway.

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     Jongin was wiping down the counter when the door jingled open with a gust of cold wind. He looked up expecting to see his first customer of the evening, but instead, watched as Chanyeol strolled in confidently and slid onto the nearest bar stool.

     "Chanyeol?" Jongin asked. Something seemed off about his friend. He appeared lively and downright oblivious to the situation at hand, as if there was nothing wrong with his day to begin with, as if he wasn't about to be admitted into the psychiatric hospital two towns over the following morning. "Chanyeol? Are you okay?"

     Said individual folded graphite-smudged hands to countertop. “A shot of bourbon please,” His request was sturdy, expression kind and polite.

     Furrowing his brow, Jongin grabbed a fresh shot glass and topped it off with bourbon, hesitating a moment before carefully sliding it to his friend's frigid hands. Chanyeol studied the amber liquid before lifting the glass to his lips, tossing back the drink and sighing at the heady burn.

     What happened next would haunt Jongin for years to come. Their gazes met, and he watched as Chanyeol's eyes narrowed to make room for the joyous invasion that overtook his features, like a permanent mask had just been cemented into place. Jongin knew right then that his friend was nowhere to be found.

     "Baekhyun?" he breathed, hands gripping the countertop, face pale.

     If at all possible, that grin stretched even wider and was followed by nod.

     Jongin's body went numb as a chill rolled down his spine.