Title: Magic Chanyeol

Pairing/s: Kaiyeol, side!Baekyeol

Genre/s: Humor, Slice of Life, Angst

Rating: M (for ~magic)

Length: [2/4] 6000+

Summary: [Magic Mike!au] Chanyeol is a male stripper and Jongin is his reluctant protégé.

Dislaimer: Magic Mike belongs to its respective owners. I do not own anything. And so on and so forth.

(Image courtesy: Motion Picture Soundtrack)

Following the incident at Chanyeol’s so many nights ago, it was never brought up between them again. From it Chanyeol learned that Kim Jongin not only had the gift of dance but also the remarkable talent of brushing things, even the elephant-in-the-room-sized ones, under the rug and keeping them there, never to see the light of day again.

That Saturday night they met again at Galaxy for work, he acted as if nothing had ever happened. He acted with the same calculated equation of cool and casual around Chanyeol, as he did with the rest of his hyungs, and so it went for the weeks that followed.

In fact, Jongin was so good at unstating the obvious Chanyeol almost forgot about it, what with the toll other things like picking up the new choreography and working on his demo simultaneously took on him. Somehow, it was as if, under Jongin’s influence, everything he did revolved around keeping him from remembering. Still, the thought hung on by a thread in his mind, a few more acts of deliberate negligence away from obscurity.

So much so that on an occasion Chanyeol had brought Jongin home too late into the night after work, he had the audacity to oblige when Jongin said, “Baekhyun-hyung probably waited up too long, so I guess have to make him breakfast now.”

 “At 2 in the morning?”

“He gets up at the crack of dawn so basically, yes.”

Chanyeol pursed his lips at this. “Can I help?”

Moments later, they were shoulder to shoulder in the tiny kitchenette, Jongin pouring batter into the waffle press and Chanyeol whisking eggs for omorice. Between the quiet spaces and practiced comfort in which they worked, Jongin injected tidbits of “Baekhyun-hyung loves breakfast food, all kinds of it,” and “he’s a good hyung, Baek-hyung.”

By the time they were through and the food was stowed away in the fridge for Baekhyun to microwave when he woke, Chanyeol already had a gist of how Jongin was pretty much still a softy preceding his stage demeanor as Kai, The Aloof Dancing Machine, and that his roommate Baekhyun wasn’t as untouchable as he seemed either.

The idea was enough to lull Chanyeol into an easy sleep on Jongin’s couch, filled with hope for some kind of breakthrough that was yet to come.

—

He knew things were looking up when Baekhyun chose to wake him with a soft prod later into the morning. He still approached Chanyeol like he was carrier to a really bad flu. Short of his initial hapkido stylings, however, Chanyeol figured it was a start.

“Hey, Chanyeol. Care to join us for, er, breakfast? Kitchen.” Then he padded away before Chanyeol could accept.

Chanyeol met them in the kitchen shortly, Jongin already helping himself to the waffles he made while Baekhyun nursed a mug of coffee.

“Not eating?” Chanyeol inquired.

“Already ate,” Baekhyun said absently. He rose again and went off to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what.

“Hey,” Chanyeol began once he was out of earshot, “does your hyung still kind of hate me or what?”

“Not much anymore, I think,” Jongin replied, pouring more syrup on his waffles.

“Not much anymore,” Chanyeol echoed incredulously. Then as an afterthought, “…you think?”

Jongin simply shrugged, looking like he was more intent on chewing his food than giving Chanyeol a proper answer. “Dunno. Probably just a bit puzzled about how you could walk around like that shirtless in the middle of fall.”

Chanyeol relaxed at this. “Oh… Oh!”

The doorbell buzzing interrupted them. “Hold that thought,” Jongin said as he left Chanyeol alone in the kitchen.

About a minute passed until Jongin showed up again with another boy in the kitchen. The boy, albeit leaner and lankier, generally shared the same expression as Jongin’s. He looked like he was bored to be alive, among other imperceptible things. In short, it was another teenager. 

“Chanyeol-hyung, this is Oh Sehun. He’s the milk delivery boy I fill in for sometimes,” Jongin said, gesturing to his friend.

“Yo,” Sehun greeted. Without much preamble, he crossed over to the table in one long stride and sat in the seat across Chanyeol like he had done so several other times in the past.

“He usually comes over for breakfast after his Sunday morning shifts, though I don’t exactly know what prompted it. One day he was bringing fresh milk to rich neighbors who could afford it, the next he showed up here—“

“—like a big surly cat on call for dibs on our scraps,” Baekhyun finished for Jongin just as he slipped in undetected. He fished his unfinished mug of coffee from Sehun’s hands, mumbling, “Great. Another mouth to feed,” as he walked past. This seemed fine with Sehun, who settled for Jongin’s unfinished plate of waffles instead.

“Hey!”

“Kids, please. No fighting at the table.”

“But hyung.”

“Sehun,” Baekhyun said as if he were admonishing a house pet, “cornflakes or fruit loops?”

Sehun weighed this carefully. “Mmm…fruit loopth.”

“Retainers off or no breakfast,” Baekhyun said, tone clipped. Then without turning away from the sink, “And in their case, if you please,” just as Sehun had begun folding them into a paper napkin. Sehun sighed defeatedly and retrieved his case from his backpack.

Baekhyun placed a bowl in front of Sehun and refilled Jongin’s glass, blatantly not minding Chanyeol who simply watched, an awed spectator to Baekhyun’s ministrations akin to that of a seasoned mother’s.

“Nice pecs, by the way,” Sehun commented as he poured milk on his cereal. “And guns too.”

Chanyeol almost choked on his coffee. “Thanks, kid.”

Sehun spoke around his mouthful of fruit loops. “You lift?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Like two noonas a night, yeah,” Jongin muttered snidely into his orange juice.

The utensils Baekhyun had been washing noisily clattered into the sink.

~*~

There were times it slipped Chanyeol’s mind that Jongin had yet to cross the threshold to real manhood. Seeing what he had to bring to work, it often got too hard to tell.

Sure he was more than able to send a whole floor of ladies (plus the occasional gentleman) mad with his less than saintly dancing. Sure a single heavy-lidded gaze from him was enough to make them swoon and sputter on their cosmopolitans.  Sure he was the alluring and unreachable Kai onstage, but off it he was just plain—

“Hopeless! It’s hopeless, hyung.”

“Now, now, Jongin-ah,” Chanyeol said. “Why not just ring her?”

Jongin stopped short in his pacing. He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. “Absolutely not.” He resumed pacing.

Chanyeol cocked his head to the side. “Come on, why not?”

From the sidelines, Minho silently watched these proceedings with an amused smirk.

“Dunno! Because I’m Kim Jongin, and she’s—“

“Gorgeous and totally out of your league?” Jaejoong put in helpfully, joining Minho in his front row seat to another episode of Jongin’s Teen Problems.

Said main character sighed. “Yeah.”

“Should I get the popcorn?” Minseok yelled from the pantry.

“Extra cheese, hyung, thanks!” Chanyeol yelled back. Jongin glared at him.

“Seriously.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “You’re probably overthinking this.”

“I mean, sure we were making out and she let me—“ Jongin paused to demonstrate some sort of squeezing, groping gesture with his hands. This elicited in a couple of groans and cries of “No man, don’t do that!” from the small crowd of spectators. “—and we were really getting into it but then I start to unhook her and suddenly she’s all, Jongin, no. What is there to overthink?!”

Minho’s nose wrinkled in disapproval. “No wonder,” he said. Chanyeol and Jaejoong shared sombre nods in agreement.

 “Well, first off, women are very much into that hard-to-get thing—don’t know why, they just are,” Chanyeol said. “They love knowing you’re watching them leave. They get a kick out of it. Probably makes their female parts all tingly with excitement.

“Second, don’t do, er, whatever it was you were doing just now,” Chanyeol continued gently. “Girl ies are sensitive.” To this Jaejoong and Minho nodded in agreement as well.

 Jongin let out a strangled cry just as Minseok sauntered in with his bowl fresh out of the microwave. “What I miss?”

Jaejoong reached for this. Munching on his handful, he explained, “Krystal Jung still won’t let anyone bat past second base, Jongin’s still a whiny, pathetic case, and Chanyeol’s still doing a lousy job at helping—so, nothing much. Nice, white cheese?”

“Yup.”

“God, she must probably think I’m such a loser now!” Jongin moaned.

“She won’t if you’d just call her!” Chanyeol insisted.

“And talk to her about what—how great her s felt? Current affairs? The weather?”

Jaejoong frantically glanced around. “Where is Heechul? He’s so missing out.”

“Bad red bean buns.”

Meanwhile, Minseok launched into a contemplative air. Seconds later, he snapped and pointed a cheesy finger at Jongin. “Didn’t you just say it’s her birthday in two days?” Minseok said. “Won’t that be enough reason to call?”

Jongin ran a hand down his face. “Right. You guys were totally reading Tao’s texts the other night during my set.”

“Impressive play by play of how it went down, by the way,” Jaejoong commented. “And you should tell your friend he didn’t look fat in that last MeiPai post.”

“Well maybe a little bit,” Minho muttered subtly.

They all fell silent when Jongin’s phone started ringing. They eagerly waited as Jongin gingerly took it from his vanity like it were about to explode.

His eyes bulged as he read the screen. “.”

Chanyeol flicked some popcorn at Jongin. “Dance, monkey, dance!” 

“ off— Krystal! Hey, what’s up?”

“You mean besides Jongin’s—mmrph!”

Jongin shot them all a dirty look. “No, it’s okay, it was nothing. Just some really annoying neighbourhood—“ He wiped Chanyeol’s slobber from his hand down Chanyeol’s shirt with more force than needed. “—dogs. I hate them—  Oh, but I think puppies are totally cute too! I love them! I’d even name my poodle, uh, Monggu, if I had one, or something. —Yeah, cool.”

Then, Jongin straightened. He paused for a beat at something Krystal most probably said. “You mean, this weekend? —Sehun knew? —What do you mean Sehun told you his phone’s broken so he couldn’t call me, it— Is! Right! Totally forgot. Something happened to it at that place the other…yeah.”

The rest of them were bent over in soundless laughter. Jongin took this as a cue to quickly compose himself and wipe the goofy grin on his face. He put on his best uncaring tone. “Thanks for calling. —Yeah, sounds cool, I’ll be there. —Right. See you, or y’know, whatever.”

They all erupted into a wordless chorus to the tune of We are the Champions—proper English lyrics unknown to them—the moment Jongin hung up and the goofy grin resumed its place on his face. His eyes habitually folded into their half-moon creases again in a mix of embarrassment and excitement. This earned him a number of pats on the back and nudges on the ribcage.

He flimsily tried to swat them away. “You guys are such— Oh, whatever.” And he traipsed away, still smiling to himself.

Jaejoong whistled lowly as Jongin disappeared. “Looks like our Jongin-ah finally scored those tickets to the next ball game after all.”

Chanyeol tried to laugh around the bad feeling that was beginning to settle itself in his stomach. “Ha ha, right.”

“What? I missed it again?” Jongdae hollered from the backstage entrance. He angrily shook the bag of freshly-microwaved popcorn he was holding. “Goddamnit!”

 “Oh, to be young again,” Heechul chimed from the bathroom.

—

That Saturday night, Chanyeol stepped out of the shower to find Jongin sitting, nondescript, on his couch. This made him nearly slip on his bathroom mat and clutch on his towel before it unravelled itself from his waist.

“Woah there! When did you— How—“

“Key in the flower box. Push hard on the door, turn twice, shake the lock loose,” Jongin said, looking up at Chanyeol unblinkingly. But something about it was glazed over and clouded, and definitely reeking of one too many bomb drinks from Jongdae.

Jongin attempted to stand, but his knees gave way. Chanyeol was right there scooping him up in no time. “Jongin-ah, you moron! I thought I told you to stay away from those poktanjus?” he snapped. He eased Jongin’s arm around his neck, gripping him tight on the shoulder. “What was he doing at Krystal Jung’s party anyway?!”

 “Brought him over. Everybody loved him and started calling him The Chensing Machine by 11 PM. But that’s not—“ Jongin was cut short by a series of gagging noises.

“Oh no, not on my sofa again, no.” Chanyeol had already begun making a beeline for the bathroom. “That took five days at the cleaner’s to completely come off, stench not included.”

Chanyeol deployed Jongin to his toilet and handed him a cup of mouthwash when he finished emptying today’s three meals into its murky depths.

“Cheers, Jongin-ah. To being young again,” Chanyeol announced around the toothbrush poking out of his mouth.

Jongin raised his cup, cheek still resting on the toilet rim. He smiled weakly. “Cheers, hyung.”

As Chanyeol spat out his mouthful of foam, he asked, “How bad was it?”

“Good, you mean.” And Jongin flashed him a wolfish expression.

 Chanyeol matched this with one of his own. “Wanna tell me about it? It is only just one in the morning.”

—

Not long after, Jongin’s Teen Problems was dethroned from its primetime spot by the much-anticipated Everybody Loves Kim Kai, starring Kim Jongin, with Krystal Jung and the rest of the noona clientele population. Though it didn’t change much, there was less of Jongin offstage than Kai onstage. Chanyeol’s routine fronted normalcy.

But he was aware it was what everyone had been waiting for. It was what time had been bringing with it all along, moving them all forward.

 Before anyone knew it, time had already let Christmas roll in. And along with it, copious amounts of red and green body glitter and cinnamon deodorant, in addition to the most important news they’ve ever received, according to Kris.

“Important enough to make us all drag our half-frozen asses to the unheated floor, I ing hope,” Heechul grumbled under his breath as they trudged from the safely heated haven of backstage. “Turning them on only ten minutes before open house, what a cheapskate.”

It was only about forty minutes till doors opened when Kris called them out for an emergency meeting, dragging all of them out in nothing but bathrobes and their tiny, light-up Rudolph jockeys underneath (“No need to thank me. I’m well aware it’s ing debonair,” Key had said when the seemingly innocuous package arrived one late November morning) for the opening group act of their holiday showcase.

Kris made them all sit as soon as they filed into the floor. Before he started he briefly threw a don’t you dare look at Chanyeol who had just been about to break off a candy cane from a centrepiece on one of the tables. Chanyeol obediently sat back down.

“Now that you’re all here,” Kris said as he surveyed their lot.  “I have some very important news to share with everyone.”

They stared on, waiting for Kris to continue. Kris seemed to be enjoying taking his time, wrapped in his thick, fur-trimmed trench coat and 60% cashmere scarf.  “News so important that it was absolutely necessary you all be here to hear it from me, first-hand.”

“Alright, what is it then?” Amber coaxed a little impatiently now.

“Now you all may be wondering, What could it be, Kris?! Man, you really know how to keep us on the edge of our seats!” Kris went on. “In that instance, don’t—“

“—be a ,” someone coughed out from the back.

“Hey! I heard that, Jongdae!” Kris said, breaking his air of supposed formality. “Anyway, as you s should know…” He paused for effect.

“Get on with it!”

“Yah, Kim Jongdae? Shut your trap, yes?” Kris rolled his eyes. “So news is, Galaxy is being considered for expansion, but I’m sure it’s nothing you ungrateful wads should be thankful to me for.”

Jaejoong stood up. “Expansion? You mean…?”

Kris spread his hands out in front of him. “Noonas—Gangnam style, es.”

Key pressed down on his coif and screamed, “Holy . That was so tacky, but holy , Yifan!”

Before they could all go into a celebratory, I love you man mood, Kris stopped them. “Don’t go partying just yet, losers. We still haven’t been signed, but if we generate enough noise for the next few months, we might as well be doubling that deal, terms and all.”

 At this, Key almost fell off his stool. “Holy ing , Wu Yi Fan!”

“Chanyeol! Where’s that tooth-rich, -eating grin I was expecting from you?” Kris looked directly at him.

Chanyeol was a bit disoriented to answer right away. “Oh! Uh…That’s— I mean, it’s great! Gangnam. , man. That’s…wow.”

A dubious expression passed Kris’ features for a split second. “Like hell it is. What do you plan on doing about it?”

“Meet up with Psy and have a beer with him, of course!”

“That’s the spirit! So here’s another thing, listen up: Next month, an important investor will be dropping by. His name’s—”

Chanyeol spaced out at the number of things that ran through his head all at once. Gangnam was going to be grand for Galaxy, and he knew it. But just as the opportunity shone brilliantly before him, another matter started gnawing at the back of his mind. Of course, there was leaving behind everything here at Sinchon to settle down in a bigger, bolder stage. Then, there was also his music.

“—should behave. And by behave, I mean act the same dirty motherers you are, but you know, filthier. Understood?”  

It didn’t take much to raise everyone else’s spirits by the time they ended. Everyone was in a great and energetic mood as they returned backstage to finish getting ready for the show.

Chanyeol spotted Jongin lingering by his vanity when he entered. Judging from the way he hopped about from one foot to the other, he was still high off of Kris’ news. As Chanyeol neared, he handed him a bottle of body oil. “Hyung, slick me up, will you?”

It was a pre-show ritual of theirs, helping each other finish up before they got dressed. Chanyeol followed through with the favor as he had done so countless number of shows before. Jongin took off his robe and turned away from Chanyeol.

Pouring a generous amount of oil on his palms, Chanyeol set to work lathering it on the planes of Jongin’s back. He noticed how they’ve gotten firmer and more muscular since they started, and it passed his mind just how many women Jongin’s lifted up between then and now to get this toned. He quickly pushed the thought aside and cleared his throat. “This is nice. Kind of smells like…”

“Gingerbread, yeah,” Jongin finished for him. They fell silent again, and Chanyeol carried on rubbing circles into the crannies under Jongin’s shoulder blades with his thumbs the way he had always liked.

“So, the Gangnam news,” Chanyeol spoke after a while. At this, he sensed Jongin stilling beneath his touch. “You must be pretty stoked.”

Jongin heaved a breathy chuckle. “You bet.”

Chanyeol didn’t answer. As he reached Jongin’s waist, he took great caution to massage around his injury. Jongin seemed troubled at his lack of response. “And you, hyung?”

 “Gangnam sounds great for Galaxy,” Chanyeol returned. “It’s going to be big.” He ran his hands up and down Jongin’s arms.

“I know! I can’t wait till we all get there!” Jongin exclaimed, wariness immediately dissolved. He turned around to let Chanyeol oil him up in front. Jongin’s downturned smile, which appeared every time he tried to contain an express joy for something, was there.

“Yeah kid, so we better work hard to get this,” Chanyeol told him. He spread more oil onto Jongin’s collarbones and chest. Their gazes locked before he bent down to apply its excess to the length of Jongin’s legs. “But I’m sure that won’t be too much trouble for you. It’s me who’s crap at dancing.”   

Chanyeol rose to grab the can of body glitter from his desk and ordered Jongin to close his eyes as he sprayed it liberally all over him. He spun Jongin around to create delicate swirls of the glitter on his back, like tiny wings. Carelessly, he let slip, “I was probably better off with my music all this time.”

Jongin’s head angled to the side to allow Chanyeol into his periphery. He didn’t meet his eye. “But you’ll go, of course?”

Chanyeol knew he wasn’t being given much time to think a decent reply through. “You’re good to go!” he said instead, releasing his hold on Jongin’s lower back. He went off to find his own shirt and suspenders before Jongin could say anything else. The rest of the time, Chanyeol steered clear of him up until the curtains rose for their opening act.

He delivered easily, all hunky smiles and gestures, performing the dance exactly as taught and rehearsed. It was Jongin who had always been good at the improvisation, dazzling audiences and crew alike with spontaneous moves of his own which naturally melded into the choreography.

Chanyeol observed him from their time together onstage, methodically twirling his bowler hat with nimble fingers and snapping his suspenders on and off, to his own solo set, gliding here and there in smooth, fluid movements that made the sweat and glitter on his tanned body sparkle and shimmer in the spotlights. Albeit a bit smudged, Chanyeol saw his own handiwork still visible along the curve of Jongin’s spine.

Absorbed as he was, Chanyeol didn’t notice Kris standing beside him. “Talented kid, Kim Jongin. You sure do know how to scout, Park,” he remarked.

Kyungsoo’s and Chen’s voices sang, soft and mellow, from an unseen spot. Just as they ushered in the chorus, fake snowfall began to flutter down on Jongin onstage. The crowd cheered.

“He’s the real thing,” Chanyeol affirmed.

“Andwaeyo… It’s my turn to cry…”

Kai whipped his scarf off his neck, and Chanyeol and Kris watched it slice through the snow as if it were happening in slow motion. He let it hang to the ground from his hand, swaying slowly and sadly to the music’s tempo.

“Chanyeol,” Kris said gravely. “Awhile ago, you weren’t fooling me for one bit back there.” 

Chanyeol lowered his head. “About that. Just— Lots of things going on, right now, you know? That’s all.”

“Besides Galaxy? Like your music, you mean?” Kris sounded chiding, as if hinting the latter was too vague a possibility to push through.

“Yeah, that. But I’m sure I’ll come to, in time,” Chanyeol answered. He shook his head. “No need to worry about me, Kris-ge.”

Kris stiffened beside him, because he knew well Chanyeol rarely called him that. “What we have for you is stable and secure, don’t forget that.”

For the nth time that night, Chanyeol decided not to say anything. He let his words float out into the air around them instead.

 My music is important to me too, Kris-ge, he wanted to tell him. It’s not something I could just leave behind.

“I want you to think about it,” Kris said firmly. He placed a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder and stared him down. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Chanyeol promised. Kris curtly nodded, then left.

Onstage, Kai was ablaze despite being stripped down to only his pants and suspenders in the faux winter. With the song about to end, he was kneeling now, chest rising and falling, and breathing heavy enough to make the flakes whirl around head. It was Kai’s face which was cast out to the audience, but Jongin’s white-flecked body pivoted to where Chanyeol spectated from the sidelines.

Both looked captivating.

“Saranghae, saranghae, uljimayo…”

 Though Chanyeol had been avoiding laying on a few things earlier, at the very least he didn’t lie. If Gangnam was going to be big for anyone, it was going to be big for Jongin.

~*~

On the evening of Jongin’s 20^th birthday, Chanyeol surprised Baekhyun by turning up on their doorstep an hour before midnight with a birthday cake in hand and a whole rotisserie chicken in the other. Baekhyun had been studying when he arrived, and squinting from beneath his drawn-up hood and oversized glasses, promptly asked him what the hell he was doing in their apartment without the celebrant, so to speak.

“Left early,” Chanyeol had said as he let himself in. “Sorry I couldn’t ring you. I don’t think I have your number.”

“In that case, it’s—“

“But our Jongin-ah’s finally turning 20, doesn’t that make you pretty ing stoked?”

Baekhyun nodded. “Sure.”

 “It was kind of a last minute idea, and I didn’t want to involve much people,” Chanyeol amended.

“It’s fine, I guess,” Baekhyun replied, rubbing his eye tiredly. Chanyeol followed after him as he shuffled into the kitchen. “I was planning to make pancakes for him or something—for when he got back, anyway.”

“I was planning to get that Sehun kid in on this, but I didn’t know how to reach him either.” Chanyeol regretted this. Sehun’s presence surely would have done its part in making the atmosphere feel less awkward.

Baekhyun fiddled with a highlighter in hand. Not knowing where to put it, he tucked it behind his ear. “Uh, I wouldn’t either. He does have his own finals to study for.”

“Right!” Chanyeol gasped. “Finals, yeah, your college…thing.”

The whole school ordeal momentarily came to light as Chanyeol watched Baekhyun put away stack after stack of textbooks, notebooks, and sticky notes. He would have been well off in a music college by now if it weren’t for his job, but he knew his family didn’t have the money for that kind of pursuit. Instead he set his sights on the next best thing—fast cash—and sending it back home whenever he could. It had been like that ever since he was not much younger than Jongin, clearing tables and mopping up restrooms in this place called Galaxy, right until Kris saw in him what could only be undisputed “noona-magnet potential.”

From there on happened the fastest four years of his life. The demo work and Kim Jongin followed after some time.

“Grab the cake,” Baekhyun ordered. They were out of any available surfaces to place anything on, and Chanyeol was pretty sure the piles of study material Baekhyun was able to stuff between baskets of laundry were grouped by the Dewey-Decimal system, or something. Chanyeol glimpsed a pair of chinos they once wore for their After School* set last July, and he and Jongin had been quite fond of the upperclassman blazer and slacks ensemble enough to beg Key to allow them to take it home. Personally it reminded Chanyeol of going to school, and he secretly humoured himself by pretending he went. Anyway Baekhyun didn’t have to know they were tear-away; what he didn’t know won’t hurt him.

Chanyeol complied hastily, only to be immediately shrieked at. “No, not like that! Hold that— No, this.” At the last second, Baekhyun the heavy bunch of hardbounds he was holding at Chanyeol. He secured Chanyeol’s grip with his own. Chanyeol noticed how his small hands were cold and calloused against his. “These cost around three of my student stipends, okay? Don’t drop them.” He reached around Chanyeol for the cake. “Ok, place them here.”

In the middle of unboxing the cake, Baekhyun cleared his throat. “Jongin’s aunt called earlier today,” he told Chanyeol. “Just to check up on him, it being his birthday and all.”

Chanyeol was pleasantly taken aback. He had never heard a lot from Jongin’s home life, much less have Baekhyun, of all people, talk to him about it. “Oh yeah, how’d that go?”

With swift, precise movements, Baekhyun slid the cake into a chipped platter he had settled at the center of the table where his expensive library books once sat. The chicken he placed on a paper plate beside it. “Well I couldn’t exactly disclose the whole male stripper business with her fully—auntie Dok Mi, bless her—but I told her he was doing just fine.”

Chanyeol shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “And what did you tell her about what he does?”

“Part-time delivery boy job,” Baekhyun said. Then reluctantly, he added, “With some…dancing gigs on the side.”

“Fair enough.” Chanyeol shrugged, leaning over to swipe a bit of icing for himself. Baekhyun slapped his hand away with what could only be those vigilant parent-like reflexes of his, giving him a look that could only have conveyed, Dude, really?

Chanyeol retreated. “Jongin’s aunt…do they talk often? How about his parents?”

Baekhyun scratched his nose, clearly avoiding Chanyeol’s gaze. “About that.” He in a breath. “If you should know, Jongin grew up with his aunt and uncle.”

So Jongin never really his mom and dad. Knowing how he was, Chanyeol saw this kind of background coming. “Did he…run away to come here?” he implored.

Baekhyun pulled on the sleeves of his Yonsei hoodie to further cover his fingers. “You could say he did. Which was why he hadn’t been too—“ he paused to yawn deeply ”—happy when he found out I called Auntie not long after he got that job at Galaxy. He said the last person who needed to know how he was doing was her.”

This struck a chord in Chanyeol. “When was this exactly?”

Baekhyun stifled another yawn just as he scrunched up his features, deep in thought. “Few weeks after he started. He didn’t come home that night—crashed at your place, if I recall correctly.”

 “Oh yeah, I remember,” Chanyeol murmured in response.

“But we’re good now, of course,” Baekhyun ascertained. “I promised not to call again. This time, it was Auntie.”

That was all Chanyeol needed to know. It brought back the memory of that night so clearly. He wasn’t filled with doubt and anxiety like he once was as it came back to him, though. In its stead, sympathy filtered through for what might have been an insecure Jongin too frightened to phone back home.

As if summoned by the thought, Chanyeol’s phone vibrated in his pocket with a text from him:

Kris-hyung is pretty pissed you didn’t stick around long enough to meet this Very Important investor dude. Hope you didn’t leave early just so you could face with Nana sooner. LOL ㅋㅋㅋ

Chanyeol peered over at Baekhyun, who had somehow managed to sneak a notebook onto the table in the period he took to read his phone. None of it seemed Baekhyun-friendly enough to be shared, save for the harmless LOL at the end of the message.

Another one from Jongin quickly followed:

Investor dude’s name is Luhan. Pulled me aside to talk for a bit idek. He’s kind of really pretty tho. ★.★Prettier than Baek-hyung in eyeliner, even! (loljk don’t tell him I said thatㅎㅎㅎ)

“Jongin will be a bit long,” Chanyeol blurted out instead. Baekhyun’s head snapped up like he had just been caught lolling off.

“Who what— Oh, Jongin, you mean.”  

Chanyeol tried for his best beam. “Yup.”

Baekhyun struck his cheeks repeatedly to wake himself. “That’s fine. I guess we can just wait—“ He was abruptly cut off as the lights flickered out. “…up. Ah, . Not now.”

Slightly ruffled, Chanyeol fidgeted around in his seat. He made out Baekhyun rummaging through the cabinets in the barely visible kitchen. “Uh, does this happen often?”

“About twice or thrice a week. Some stupid rotational blackout policy the landlord drew up to cut costs on power,” Baekhyun scoffed. Then, a little loud enough for the neighbors to hear, “As if we don’t pay him enough.”

A chorus of barking dogs in the back alleyway answered to him. Baekhyun lit the candles propped on the cake with a lighter he procured from one of the drawers, and it bathed the tiny room in a soft, dancing glow.

 “My water didn’t even finish heating,” Baekhyun said so ruefully it made Chanyeol feel sorry for him.

“I wouldn’t mind a lukewarm mug of 3-in-1 right about now, though,” Chanyeol said affably. “Much more time-efficient and palatable—Arabica tastes like dirt, sometimes.”

The tiny, grateful smile Baekhyun flashed him was bright enough for Chanyeol to see through the dark. After he set Chanyeol’s coffee in front of him, he returned to his seat with his own mug and a textbook under an arm.

“You’re not seriously pulling a Joseon Dynasty on me now, are you?” Chanyeol whined as Baekhyun pushed his notes closer to the candlelight.

“Life’s what you make it, buddy,” Baekhyun answered. He sipped his coffee. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help but admire his diligence and neat, flowy handwriting. His own focus and chicken scratch were so poor in comparison. “Sure thing, Baek Dong Soo*.” He reached over to ruffle his hair affectionately, making Baekhyun freeze in his work.

Chanyeol quickly retracted his hand. “Ah, sorry.”

“Chanyeol.” Baekhyun’s tone was serious.

Chanyeol peeped through the candles shyly. “Yes?”

“If I fall asleep, don’t even think about having a go at the cake before Jongin gets here.”

“Okay.”

As predicted, Baekhyun did lose to his long-running battle with sleep. Chanyeol noticed when he heard Baekhyun’s soft snoring, and he looked up from his 2048 game to find him with his head rested on a folded arm. The other extended across the small round table towards Chanyeol, palm facing up. No wonder he was able to do away with a few strips of chicken without getting caught.

“Idiot. You’re not supposed to sleep with those on.” He carefully plucked Baekhyun’s glasses off his face just as they were about to slide off. In his exhaustion, he even left the highlighter in its place sticking out from behind his ear. Chanyeol put this away too with a grin. Baekhyun grunted a little irately in his sleep.

By that time, the candles had already begun burning low, most of it melted away. The little apartment had gotten considerably chillier since the heaters had gone out with the power, so Chanyeol took it best that he tuck Baekhyun in before he caught a cold.

It took Chanyeol a number of tries to position himself correctly beside Baekhyun as he braced himself to lift him up. When he did, he found Baekhyun to be lighter than expected, so carried him up all the way. All that noona-lifting had done him good, and it was a relief Baekhyun was an extra heavy sleeper tonight.

Chanyeol brought him to the only other room in the house he hadn’t been in which he presumed to be the boys’ shared bedroom. Inside it was an organized mess of discarded clothes, more books, and a harmonic clash of Shinhwa and N*SYNC memorabilia. Which belonged to whom, Chanyeol wasn’t too sure. Pushed up against one side was the double-decker Jongin purchased for them after his second salary.

He gently settled Baekhyun into the bottom bunk, pulling the Goku-print covers up snug over Baekhyun. He would’ve kissed his forehead goodnight if the notion weren’t very old-fashioned and overly-familiar, so he opted to just pat his hair again. “Sleep tight, Baek.”

A picture caught Chanyeol’s eye as he placed Baekhyun’s glasses on the nightstand. Up close, Chanyeol identified it to be a much younger Jongin and Baekhyun with their arms thrown over a big sheepdog, both smiling huge, buck-toothed smiles and holding out peace signs to the camera. They also sported matching bowl cuts, much to Chanyeol’s amusement, but wore different uniforms. It was safe to assume Chanyeol was looking at an elementary school-aged Jongin and a middle school-aged Baekhyun sans all the care in the world—a truly rare sight to behold.

When the familiar jangle of keys reached Chanyeol’s ears, he crept out of the room as quietly and quickly as he could. Once he fetched the cake from the kitchen outside, he waited by the door.

Jumping out from the shadows didn’t surprise Jongin as much as Chanyeol had hoped—the novelty had probably run its course on Baekhyun already. Still, he seemed slightly shaken at the sight of Chanyeol towering over him illuminated by sputtering candlelight in the middle of his living room.

“Oh! Hyung. Geez. Sorry about the power…and the ty apartment.”

Chanyeol shook his head to dismiss this. “Never mind that. Happy birthday, Jongin!”

A lone strip of yellow-orange light from outside shone on Jongin’s face just enough for Chanyeol to see his worn-out expression ease into a hint of a smile. Jongin’s lips blew out the candles, then found Chanyeol’s lips in the dark.

“Thanks, hyung.”

~*~

Often, Jongin would steal kisses from Chanyeol.

He did so in the sidelines and backstage, when he thought no one was watching. Some were chaste carry-ons for luck and sweetness; the others, not so much. Even so, he would do it front and center, onstage, where he knew everyone could see. Naturally, Chanyeol preferred the former.

“Fanservice,” Heechul had once introduced to the team. “One last trade secret.”

If he was lucky, sometimes he would steal back kisses of his own. Some tasted pure, like milk and cornflakes on idle 8 AMs; others, the opposite, like whiskey and chasers on matchless 1 AMs.

From time to time, Jongin would pull him aside and ask about his nerves.

Whether or not anything would be bothering him at the time—be it fickle choreographers or overbearing managers—Jongin would always get down on both knees for him. Every now and then, Chanyeol would return the favor.

Periodically, Chanyeol would ask himself if there was something—anything—there. It was honestly too early, and them too young and inconsistent, to tell.

- Chinos = Growl-era wear yay! I’ve made it a point to patter their Galaxy sets after the order of their respective album/mini album releases.

- Baek Dong-Soo was a well-known, true-to-life warrior from the Joseon era. He even had a comic book and 2011 SBS drama based on his life, bless him.