Byun Baekhyun never felt conflicted before, his insides were screaming for the right thing to do as he was faced with the most intense situation. He was battling between leaving the auburn haired man alone as a way to not pry into the man’s business. The other side of him, however, wishes to run his hands on Chanyeol’s hunching shoulders and provide a reassuring squeeze once in a while.

He couldn’t do any of the options. He can’t possibly leave with thoughts of Chanyeol’s stoic eyes looking at the wall like it provides him answers. And he was sure that he couldn’t risk to provide any sort of comforting gesture because Chanyeol was simply shutting everyone out.

Even Jongdae advise him to call it a day and go home. Baekhyun should’ve done that.

But he didn’t. His legs dumbly fixated on the hallway of the hospital, hands shoved in his pocket to hide his fidgeting fingers over the loose thread of his jacket. He peered over the small glass section of the door that provide the insides of the ward room. A worried sigh escaped him.

Chanyeol had been sitting on a chair that propped beside the hospital bed, a pale looking girl laid on it. The man grasps her tiny hand with his large ones, eyes cast downwards and head hung so low that Baekhyun thought he was sleeping when he slipped into the room.

A pair of red and tired eyes stared at him as Baekhyun crossed the floor and settle to sit on the edge of the bed. He shouldn’t be here. It was a bad decision to even step into someone else’s affair, especially when Chanyeol’s head was back to bow down in shame.

Was it the pride that the therapist held? His own attitude to never let someone see his vulnerable state, seeing that he was built as a man that never and shouldn’t cry. Baekhyun reached out to fix Hyemi’s duvet, folding it wrinkle free as he presses his palm on it.

The man flinched initially, head shot up once again to give Baekhyun a defeated look. “You should go home.” He voice out tiredly.

Baekhyun shakes his head slightly, eyes fixed on Hyemi’s motionless figure —only the rising and falling of her chest proved that she was still there. “Maybe I should.” He trailed off, only to add with, “But not when you’re feeling this way.”

A scoff was heard from the distraught man, one corner of his lips quirked up rather sarcastically. “Feeling this way? Baekhyun, you don’t have any ing idea what I am feeling right now.”

Curses and rude responses is not out of the norm for Baekhyun to take. He knew very well every person’s limits, the exact trigger to light up the worst in people. And Chanyeol happen to act like an because apparently, he was loving a human who wasn’t the product of him and his so-called wife.

“You’re mad and upset. That’s for sure.” Baekhyun responded, a deep frown etched on his pink lips. “You could be angry as hell right now. Take it on anyone, or anything. Take it on me, if that satisfies you.” He didn’t remember the curling of his finger on the sheets, mind too buzzed to even think right.

Because, honestly, Chanyeol was mad at him for the fate that didn’t even relate to Baekhyun. It was frustrating to face someone who refused to seek help. Baekhyun is never fond of egotistical bastard and the idea of Chanyeol being one was irritating him.

“Don’t do that.” Chanyeol snapped. His brown eyes lands on his hands as he tried to fight his inner thoughts. He shut his eyes momentarily before it opens again, blinking hard.

Chanyeol’s head was boggled with new information of Hyemi being only Minjoo’s daughter, and not his. He was trying so hard to merge all the pieces together, whether Minjoo cheated behind his back or she was doing it as a payback for his mistreatment.

He was supposed to think about them, not Mr. Byun who sat on the bed with pursed lips. Byun Baekhyun is not entitled to be mad, eyes furious and dark shade of blue like the hottest part of the flames. It was surprising how it contrasts greatly with his flushed cheeks, fumed red by his own action.

“I really don’t need all of this, Mr. Byun. Please, go home.”

“I hate looking at you like this.” The man admitted, there are sense of concern in his words. “Chanyeol, you wanted to be friends. I thought it was unprofessional and immature, but I grow to…” Baekhyun sighed and whispered, “I cared for you.”

Maybe I care too much.

“At least talk to me. Surely your years of practice encourages people to talk and figure things out.”

Almost at that instant, Chanyeol’s mind went blank as he felt like it was him who was asked, sat on the leathered chair in his office and being told to let out his feelings. Baekhyun was the one behind the clipped notepad, glasses tucked against his nose bridge and mumbling out several questions.

“There really is nothing to figure out.” He ran his fingers harshly against his messy auburn hair, pulling the strands a little rough to remove his distress. “Hyemi is not my child and I was forced to marry because all this time I believe it was love.”

“Blood or not, she’s your daughter. Don’t let her words get into you.”

Chanyeol only nodded faintly, gaze fell on his poor little fairy. She looked very petite against the hard bed, lips pale and skin as white as her duvet. It is such a shame that Chanyeol were not able to do anything about it. Only a silent prayer served to make him feel any less of a father.

“Baekhyun, you should go.” And this time, Baekhyun abides and leave.

It was a very rare Tuesday to catch Kim Jongdae by his front porch, the man’s brunette locks disheveled from the result of the wind. The guest gave a small shrug and pathetically brushes his hair, seemingly rebellious and decided to let it turn into a tangle mess before Jongdae chuckled on his effortless attempt.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Baekhyun’s lips, stepping backwards and said, “Please, come in.”

Seated and warm in the living room, Jongdae was helping himself with coffee that tastes exquisitely expensive and comforting. A couple of sips and he blurted out, “I never tasted coffee as good as this.”

“I’m glad that you find it pleasing, Mr. Kim.”

Jongdae responded with another smile, eyes staring at the ripples of the dark water. His fingers traced irregular shapes on the ceramic surface before he was brave enough to stare at Baekhyun’s eyes. He knew from that moment it wasn’t his best decision to do so.

Almost instantly, Baekhyun was reading him, eyes remained its ivory shades and strip Jongdae to every place of his insecurities and strength. Jongdae admitted that he was indeed a broken soul, only driven by thoughts of the passing time to cure his pain, yet he didn’t acknowledge that Baekhyun was far worst. Though it was mesmerizing to witness the unique ivory orbs, Baekhyun was as empty as his large manor.

It was natural for a therapist to figure everything out. The lack of family portraits, the presence of artificial warmth coming from the fire ignited by the fireplace, moreover the stoic look Baekhyun failed to hide behind his genuine smiles.

Byun Baekhyun secretly likes the idea of having guests, and apparently, attending clients once in a while is what drives him to wake up very early in the morning in preparation.

Even then, it was no secret that Byun Baekhyun is one fine man.

Jongdae blushes and averted his gaze back to his coffee. “T-Thank you.” He stammered and gulp down the liquid before he added, “I mean, I wasn’t there when Chanyeol needs it.”

“The man needs space, Mr. Kim. I would do the same if I were you.”

“I should be there and comfort him appropriately.” Clearly, Jongdae’s voice was coated with nothing but regret. “He asked for a full week off. I understand that, but…”

Jongdae let out an exasperated sigh before he continued. “Chanyeol refused to let me in. I thought I was someone that he wants to confide to. But you know what?”

Another sigh reverberated around the silent room. “He wishes it was you who appeared by his doorstep.”

That caught Baekhyun off-guard. The last time they met, Chanyeol was asking him to leave, all promises of being friends was long forgotten. “What do you mean?”

Jongdae’s face masked into a defeated look before he delve his pocket, taking out a piece of small crippled paper. “Please, ask the taller friend of mine to thank me later.” The guest stood and makes his leave before Baekhyun even register the intention of his visit.

“Wait, Mr. Kim.” But Jongdae was out of reach and he soon finds it useless to ask, to further question the guest on the motive of the small note sitting on his mahogany table. Slowly, Baekhyun unfolded the code behind it, a faint smile replacing his worries.

Park Chanyeol stirred in his sleep, his duvet cover very little of his tall frame and served to be the reason to his tossing and turn, the temperature fluctuations causing his distress. It wasn’t that he needed the sleep, he was forced to do so. He was irritated that his body did not compromise very well with his brain. He wanted to stay awake, to think an