Title: Magic Chanyeol

Pairing/s: Kaiyeol, side!Baekyeol

Genre/s: Slice of Life, Angst, Humor

Rating: M (for ~magic)

Length: [4/4] 8500+

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: really don't know i'm sorry cRY)

---

Chanyeol didn’t see Galaxy for a month after that. He was aware he kind of just shat all over Kris’ meticulously arranged lineup because of it, but Chanyeol couldn’t be bothered less to show up to work. He’d rather his guitar be pried from his cold, dead fingers by Kris himself before that happened.

His real baby, his demo, had been nearing its completion the past two weeks. Having been out of work, he planned to bet what remained of his savings into pitching his music to a big-shot record company. From there on out, he had come to the resolution to go pro or go home.

But times like this at the grocery, he would still fondly pore over the femme aloe-strip razors a little longer than needed—out of self-indulgence, more than anything.

A voice loomed behind him. “So are you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna take her home?”

Chanyeol couldn’t help but be a little startled. “Oh! Byun Baekhyun!”

Baekhyun cocked an eyebrow at him. “Right. Hello.” He reached over Chanyeol’s shoulder to grab three packs of his favorite pink shavers.

Chanyeol flinched slightly as Baekhyun’s arm brushed against his shoulder. He concealed this by quickly spinning around, making Baekhyun step back reflecively before he could come chest-to-face with all six-foot-one of him. This was way different from Baekhyun’s usual habit of avoiding contact with him like he was contagion. Needless to say, it left him a bit jumpy.

“You okay?” Baekhyun asked as he dropped the razors into his cart along with two large cans of shaving cream.

“You’re getting those?” Chanyeol returned instead.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know how much femme Gillette’s Jongin consumes in a freaking month.”

Chanyeol wasn’t sure if Baekhyun was just as good at treating sensitive topics so lightly or it was just Jongin rubbing off on him. Either way, it was as if Chanyeol hadn’t dumped Jongin on their doorstep those many nights ago. “Actually, I would. But see,” he paused to grab another can of shaving cream above Baekhyun’s head, “I usually get the purple deluxe ones. They make my legs feel like silk afterwards.”

 “Can’t afford those,” Baekhyun simply dismissed, pushing his cart past Chanyeol to resume his shopping.

 “My mistake!” Chanyeol amended, joining Baekhyun. He held out another brand. “Try these then. Same price as your current, but just as luxurious.”

Baekhyun peered cagily at it, then up at Chanyeol. “Thanks,” he said, taking it. “Well, see you around.”

“Wait, Baekhyun!” Chanyeol called after a moment’s hesitation. “About what happened before—“

Baekhyun waved his hand flippantly. “Let’s forget it.” He was already leaving the aisle without looking back at Chanyeol. “Good luck with the rest of your shopping. Bye.”

“You too,” Chanyeol said, sporting another goodbye wave unreturned as Baekhyun rounded the corner.

They met again just as Chanyeol was heading out of the florist by the exit.

“Oh,” Baekhyun said, halting. “Hey again.” He pointed at the tulips cradled in Chanyeol’s arms. “Those for your girlfriend?”

“What, no— Oh, sorry, hold that thought.”

 Chanyeol fished out his ringing phone from his pocket, offering Baekhyun an apologetic smile.

“Hey! I was just about to call you up. Did you get the money I sent you? —Really? That’s great! —I’m on my way to— Oh, Yoogeun’s been discharged? —Just this morning? —Can I talk to him? …Hey, Yoogeun! —Yes, Chanyeol-appa misses you too, very much. —Really? They didn’t give you any banana milk, again? —That is mean! —It’s okay, I hate mean nurses too. —Yes, Chanyeol-appa promises to give them a talking-to when he sees them. —Yeah? I love you too, kiddo. —Yes, I love you and your mom this much. You take care of her for me, alright? —I’ll see you soon, Yoogeun, bye!”

When he got off the phone, Baekhyun was already gaping at him. Not knowing what to say, Chanyeol  held out the bouquet to Baekhyun on impulse. “Flowers?”

“Really? First you act all nice, then you have a girlfriend, but then you actually have a freaking kid, THEN you offer me flowers?!”

Chanyeol was taken aback. “What? They’re tulips, so they’re quite— Wait? Who said anything about me having a girlfriend?”

Baekhyun looked like he was too uncomfortable to reply. He glanced down at his shoes. “Probably that nice young, half- lady who answered the door when I came by a month ago. But given you’re apparently someone’s literal daddy, I’m guessing that’s not important.”

Chanyeol let that sink in. “Oh, Yoogeun’s my sister’s!”

Baekhyun gave him a very troubled look.

“No, not like that!” Chanyeol hastily corrected, shaking his head. “My noona raised him all on her own, so I let him call me appa because...you know.”

Baekhyun slowly nodded. He was still looking at the flowers. “So…girlfriend?”

“Not exactly,” Chanyeol said, scratching the back of head with his free hand.

“Ah,” Baekhyun responded. His expression showed that he was better off not being aware of the context between him and Nana.

“But…” Chanyeol began, realization dawning, “You came by? When?”

“Morning after you last dropped Jongin off,” Baekhyun provided. Addressing Chanyeol’s growing look of confusion, he added, “I guess this not-girlfriend person—“

“Nana.”

“—Nana didn’t tell you.”

The image of Baekhyun retreating quickly from a semi- Nana came to mind, and Chanyeol would’ve fully understood were he not able to utter so much as a hello. He considered this, then asked, “Why’d you come by, though?”

“And you really don’t know, do you?” Baekhyun returned, mildly exasperated.

“About what?” Chanyeol was getting pretty tired of all these people not telling him anything anymore.

Baekhyun regarded him as if he were something that just crawled out from under its rock for the first time in four weeks. “About the news— God, do you even read the paper?”

Chanyeol scoffed. “I do…on occasion.” He didn’t.

“Well if you must know,” Baekhyun said, “your friends made second page last month. I came by to talk about it with you, but clearly you already had an earlier appointment.”

Probably what Nana meant by paper boy. He hadn’t seen her since then, either. Still, Chanyeol made like Jongin and brushed the fleeting comment aside. “Really? Wow, good for them.”

“No, not good for them,” Baekhyun countered. “There was a drug bust in that penthouse suite you were at that night. Someone had tipped them off, and luckily you two didn’t stick around long enough to be caught up in it.”

Knowing Luhan, the pretty little was still most likely slithering around. He hadn’t heard from the crew, but he was confident none of them were as rash as Jongin to get involved—even Kris went all crouching tiger, hidden Wu when the need arose. All that time away from Galaxy had definitely thrown Chanyeol out of the loop. Because of it, he got too flustered to even come up with anything to reply.

“I’m thankful, though,” Baekhyun said softly, taking Chanyeol by surprise.

“W-why so?”

“Because you did me a huge favor of dragging the kid out of trouble, and doing something I never could’ve but desperately wanted to,” Baekhyun told him.

“Which was?”

“Punching Jongin in the face.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened. “Oh. Cool. You’re welcome, I guess?”

Baekhyun hummed in acknowledgement. He started towards the exit. “Well I should go now. It was nice bumping into you today, Park Chanyeol.”

“Ah, hold on!” Chanyeol blocked his path. The next words he said, he said measuredly: “Do you wanna go out? For a drive?”

Baekhyun’s mouth hung open a little. He obviously hadn’t been expecting that. “I don’t know…I’ve this paper, and school, in general.”

“Come on, only for a bit!”

Baekhyun glanced down at the bags he was carrying, then over his shoulder, then back at Chanyeol. His expression was wary like that wasn’t the best idea, but Chanyeol kept his smile anyway.

~*~

It didn’t take much to drag Baekhyun along after that. With his groceries loaded in the back, Chanyeol drove them out the city with no particular destination in mind.

“Where are we going, by the way?” Baekhyun had asked, eyes wide on the meter and holding on for dear life as Chanyeol touched 70.

“Anywhere, really,” Chanyeol answered, giddy. He tried hard to supress his manic laughter lest Baekhyun jump off his pick-up and onto the road. He needed to loosen up too, once in a while.

They mutually decided to pull up at a spot by the Han river some distance away from the district’s outskirts. The sun was already setting by the time they got there, so they opened cans of warm soda and watched it set from the roof of Chanyeol’s truck.

When they finished, Chanyeol invited Baekhyun to the railings overlooking the river because he said earlier it had been a while since he’d been to the beach.

“This isn’t even the beach, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun deadpanned as Chanyeol took him by the hand towards the river. “It’s miles and miles of pollution and urban sewage—basically Seoul’s toilet.”

“Come on, it’s not that gross,” Chanyeol wheedled. “It’s still water, or something like it.”

 The view—colors rippling like fireflies on a black, glassy surface—was enough to make Baekhyun kind of agree. Chanyeol wagged his eyebrows at him. “What’d I say?”

“It’s not beachfront property, but it’ll have to do,” Baekhyun conceded. “Sorta reminds me of home. Jongin and I used to live by the sea.”

“I didn’t know.”

Baekhyun nodded. “We had to bike five minutes to get to the bay, but it still smelled like the ocean every time I woke up in the morning.”

“How was that like, growing up in a port town?” Chanyeol felt genuinely curious. It slightly made him imagine a teenaged Baekhyun taking care not to get his schoolbooks wet with seawater and emptying sand from his socks.

“I was late to school every day because Jongin liked to take the longer route, the one along the beach, and he always got up late,” Baekhyun said. “We went home together, some days, when we would tie our Converses together and sling them around our necks so we could walk barefoot on the shore. Sometimes he stayed behind in school for dance practice, or I went with other friends. I didn’t know much about his own friends, though. He didn’t really have that many.”

It was odd how despite Chanyeol refused to dwell in the present, he still found himself wanting to know more about the past. “And Jongin, how was he?”  

“Jongin, he— “ Baekhyun began but stopped abruptly, as if figuring out what to say next. He stared off at the city lights pockmarking the other side of the river. “He’s always been a lone wolf ever since. And I don’t know if I’ve any right to tell you this but…” He trailed off.

Chanyeol waited eagerly for what he was going to say next, but was let down to a degree when the air remained silent for a number of minutes. “You don’t have to say it, you know, if you don’t want to,” he said gently.

“But I do and I— I trust you…enough to take care of him.” Baekhyun looked up at Chanyeol just as he looked down at Baekhyun in surprise. The evening wind ruffled Baekhyun’s hair into his eyes. Chanyeol felt his fingers twitch at his side in response.

Thankfully Baekhyun turned back to face the river, arms resting on the railing. “Jongin’s mom—she wasn’t any older than you and I when she had him.”

Chanyeol rather liked the way ‘you and I’ sounded coming from Baekhyun, but he didn’t exactly know why.

 “Ran off not long after Jongin e, so his mother’s unnie, his aunt, and her husband had practically raised him since then. Dance has been the only thing that’s loved him back as much, though, he feels. Always felt like he’s been a burden.” Baekhyun watched the waves gently lap at the concrete below him.  “To everyone, actually.”

Chanyeol rested his cheek on his palm at this, remembering the way disappointment had bubbled angrily in his stomach when Jongin had eyed him defiantly from the passenger seat so many nights back. Jongin had felt more like the burden to him, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Not to me, though. Never,” Baekhyun affirmed. “He’s my little brother, I was practically born into the household next door just to make sure he’s okay. He’s always been running, and I’ve always been barely ten steps behind. I left home earlier, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he’d grow jealous of the way I’ve walked ahead of him now.”

Chanyeol listened on. Although the air around them fell silent, it still hung heavy with something Baekhyun was yet to say.

A bated moment later, Baekhyun began. “That time he ran off, it was after he had flunked his first semester at the local college. His aunt said something, I’m sure she didn’t really mean it, but then—“ Baekhyun seemed to cave in on himself at the memory. “There are instances I feel it had been my fault she said those things, you know?”

“And what did she say?” Chanyeol asked, cautious, when Baekhyun didn’t continue.

When he finally did, he looked like it was difficult for him to mention. “My parents were lucky they had me. I was so well-off in the city, at Yonsei, compared to him, who couldn’t get anything else right besides his dancing. She said that it wasn’t going to take him anywhere, and he ran the risk of ending up just like his mother.” The shadow of a pained grimace was visibly etched on Baekhyun’s expression. “Sometimes I blame myself for running away like I did, too.”

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol said. When Baekhyun faced him, his eyes were slightly watery. Chanyeol paused, in a breath. “I don’t think you were running away from anything. You were only moving on, just like everyone else. Jongin was too.”

“You’re right.” The way Baekhyun’s tone changed as he answered struck something in Chanyeol. Baekhyun straightened, squeezing his eyes shut as if to fend off the tears that had been threatening to come out just then. “ I don’t know how long it took for him to find me, and I don’t care if we live in a rathole we could barely afford, because now­­—”

Arm suddenly slung across his shoulders, Chanyeol easily filled, “We’ve got him.”

As they drove home that night, they settled into an agreeable silence they knew they could both get used to. Chanyeol had no particular motives to break it then and there, but it was out of force of habit more than anything that he found himself turning on the radio.

Baekhyun didn’t seem to mind anyway, and continued taking in the passing scenery and Chanyeol humming along to the songs playing with a content look on his face. It was enough, Chanyeol thought, for him as well.

Three songs in, Journey came on. That was all it took for Chanyeol to change his mind.

“Lying besayd yu, hir in da dark, filling yur hert beat wid mine…”

Baekhyun’s English was shabby and heavily accented, and Chanyeol knew Kyungsoo could’ve done a lot better. But it wasn’t like he was any less worse, either. Soon enough, he was belting out the chorus with Baekhyun at the top of his lungs.

“SO NOW I CAM TO YOU WID OPEN AHMS, NOTTING TO HAYD, BELIV WHAT I SEY! SO HERE I AM, WID OPEN AHMS—”

Chanyeol finished solo. “Hoping yur see what yur rav mins to mi, open ahms…”

The wind breezing past ruffled Baekhyun’s hair as he sang into it. “Livin widout yu…livin alohn! Dis empty house fills so cold…” 

But Baekhyun’s voice was much stronger and clearer, and Chanyeol simply loved the sound of it. To Chanyeol, that was enough.

—

Two things Chanyeol discovered the rest of the way home, besides Baekhyun's apparent devotion to Rain and James Ingram, was that one, he was always tired and fell asleep almost anywhere when given the chance, and two, he made these yelping puppy noises right before he did. It was cute, to say the least.

When he pulled up to their curb Baekhyun still didn't come to. Chanyeol decided to fish for the keys to their apartment from Baekhyun's pocket and bring him up there himself. It was a Saturday night, and Jongin was most likely still at work. Carrying Baekhyun was as effortless to Chanyeol as lifting up a small child, and not once did Baekhyun stir in his arms, the very heavy snoozer that he was.

Before heading out to unload his groceries from his car, it was then that Chanyeol went for the peck on Baekhyun's forehead. He giggled bashfully to himself a bit and Baekhyun only slightly hummed in his sleep.

He paused to look at the photo of Jongin and Baekhyun on their nightstand. He knew the Jongin now was still the same, smiley kid in the picture, at least somehow. It was a stretch, but he felt it was about time that he check up on him.

He decided he would phone in tomorrow.

~*~

It may or may not have been that Chanyeol woke up expecting so much as a text from Baekhyun thanking him for last night. He had probably gotten ahead of himself, he sadly realized, as he checked his phone that morning only to be greeted by a disappointingly empty screen.

But he remembered there was something else he had to attend to. He went to sleep the previous night and woke up that morning with the same words caught in his throat. It seemed the million different things he wanted to say came to him letter by letter, then in paragraphs at a time, until he suddenly got worried about talking Jongin's ear off as he bent over his sink to brush his teeth.

"Hello Jongin, how are you?" he asked the mirror. Too formal.

"Yah, Jongin-ah! What's up?" Too casual.

He tried again. "Hi, Jongin. It's me, Chanyeol." He nodded to himself. "Just calling to check in and say hello. It's been a month since— Ah! But that's obvious, isn't it?”

"You're hopeless, Chanyeol," he said as bristles worked roughly across gritted teeth. His reflection's expression softened, after a few. "But you should just tell him what's on your mind, Chanyeol."

So he did. After flushing the remaining spittle from his mouth, he raised his head and looked himself straight in the eye.

"I know it's been a while, so tell Kris I'm sorry for not having sent in a proper resignation. Tell Key I'm sorry too, for punching you in the face. I know how much he hates it when we make his job harder than it is, and how much he's too in love with that bone structure of yours to have it come so close to danger like that.

“And I'm sorry, Jongin, for all the things I just said. Sorry because I didn't get to say goodbye the right way, and because I didn't show up at #88 the next day with a bag of frozen peas and a decent apology. It's just, sometimes the things you and I choose to do make us hurt each other without us even realizing—though I'm sure I hit you good enough to make you feel it into the following morning.” He chuckled to himself lightly at this.

But the corners of his mouth didn’t stay up. His voice was quieter now. “Because sometimes you forget how much I—no, you are important to me. Seeing Baekhyun again reminded me of everything I've missed, because I do still miss it. Galaxy, the guys, even the noonas. Then, there's breakfast, 1 AM, you.

“I regret leaving, but not as much as I hate you letting me. We'll figure things out though, Jongin. I know we will. Then maybe, you wouldn't have to go.

“We could find you something else, so we could still have breakfast on Sundays with Baekhyun, and even that Sehun kid when he's done with his shift. I'll buy you that skateboard I've always owed you, and add some eggs in so I could make us more omorice. We all get pissed at you for always eating up the food, but it's okay because sometimes we forget you're just a kid. At my house I could let you finish all the pretzels if you wanted to, and maybe you could—"

Chanyeol's phone began to ring. The caller ID read, in unanimously white, condensed characters, the name Kim Jongin.

"Stay.”

—

It took no longer than a bated breath for the urgency lacking in Jongin's words to reach Chanyeol, carrying him out of his apartment and to his car, fingers tingling with panic as the fumbled with the keys.

No more Naeuns, Jongin's voice echoed hollowly as Chanyeol turned them in ignition.

No more Krystals, as Chanyeol shifted to reverse and out of his driveway.

He whizzed past a red light and a symphony of angry car horns and swearing. But the sounds of Jongin's cracking wheezes and pleas for forgiveness, oxygen, anything, were still louder. This was a...terrible thing...to do to them.

This wasn’t even about drunken brawls or empty threats anymore. Neither was it about teenaged stupidity and all the other trivial mistakes that followed. These could be too easily chalked up as the side effects to “growing up.”

Now it was about holing up in the toilet backstage and Key never having enough concealer the next night. It was the 7 AM headline on television, in muted caps: Girl, 19, found dead in local college dorm. Maybe there was more to why Chanyeol didn’t bother with the news, simply because he couldn’t.

He wrenched his door open and ran across the parking lot, to the side entrance nobody ever bothers to lock. No more...messes.

Backstage, he stood frozen for a heartbeat at what he saw. As it clicked, he scrambled over mechanically to where Jongin lay motionless. He almost slipped on the small puddle of vomit forming a grotesque sort of halo around Jongin's head.

He knelt down to check if Jongin was breathing. He was, but barely. He gripped Jongin's shoulders tightly as he tried to shake him to, desperate. "Jongin-ah! Wake up, come on!"

Jongin's eyes only fluttered a fraction of the way, but he showed no other signs of letting. "Jongin, please!"

Fast. He had to think, move fast. He couldn’t stop trembling, not even when he had his phone at the ready in his hands. He didn’t know what else to do, but maybe Baekhyun did. As he scoured his contacts for that number, he came up with nothing. All these meaningless names introduced to him once or twice, and not one could have been any relevant to him anymore. All that time together, and not once did he bother to save a single friend’s number.

Chanyeol’s feet felt like lead as he rushed to Jongin’s vanity for his phone, furiously wiping away at the frustration stinging beneath his lids. The screen lit up, revealing a wallpaper of a picture of them from what could have been a lifetime ago—Jongin with his half-moon smile and freshly bleached hair neatly stowed under a snapback and Chanyeol not looking the way he did now.

His lungs felt like they had been instantly deflated. His teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. Baekhyun mercifully picked up after the second ring. “Jongin?”

“Not Jongin. Chanyeol. It’s Chanyeol.”

“Hello, Chanyeol!” Baekhyun said, voice so warm and happy, it only made the air leave Chanyeol completely.

“Jongin, he—I need your help.”

—

Chanyeol had always hated hospitals. Everything about them made him pull away—the lack of color, the excess of bad news, the absence of warmth. But the shudders, he continually fought down as he leaned back against the cold metal of his seat, and waited.

Baekhyun appeared. Chanyeol stood up. “Jongin, how is he?”

 “His heart rate’s stabilized and he’s cooled down. He’s hooked up to an IV drip now because of the dehydration,” Baekhyun said. He collapsed on the seat across.

 “That’s good. Right? He won’t get, you know, arrested?” Chanyeol sounded so anxious and terrified even to his own ears.

 “I don’t know, it could be circumstantial. Maybe he didn’t know he took them, maybe he did.” Baekhyun rubbed the side of his face tiredly. “But it’s out of his system now, and that’s what matters. My friend, Sunny, she’s an intern here. I was able to talk her out of endorsing the drug test— Jongin, he can’t possibly— He’s just a kid.“  He hunched over to prop his elbows on both knees and rest his head into his hands.

“I know,” Chanyeol said.

“Know what?”

“That he’s just a kid.”

“Of course we do. This is why he has us.”

The mix of relief and guilt that washed over Chanyeol was too overwhelming to stave off. When Baekhyun spoke again, he only felt himself sink further to the bottom. “But you promised. That you’d look out for him.”

“I did, believe me!” Chanyeol countered.

“No, no you didn’t. He s it up one time, so you decide to just bail on him. Honestly, who's the real mess here?"

"But I came back anyway! Now—I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Yes, but you shouldn't have just left like that. None of this would've happened, then."

Chanyeol found it hardly fair he was the one getting all the blame. "And you? Where were you when this happened?"

"I've been here the whole time, Chanyeol," Baekhyun said. "Longer than you."

Chanyeol held his breath. Baekhyun went on. "He quit this—whatever this is—a month ago. I even went to his shows, to keep a closer eye on him." He shook his head. "One time. Just this one time. He doesn't come home for the night, and I think it's probably because he's with Sehun—maybe even you. But that's probably just how you treat the people and things around you. Just names and faces that will mean nothing to you two weeks later. In comes and goes. Because you never had to treat them any other way."

Chanyeol couldn't help but ask. "What do you mean, in comes and goes?"

"Here's something you probably never realized before: people stay. At least, if they find enough reason to. After all, there are people like that, Chanyeol. People who give you enough reason, flaws and bad habits and -ups and all."

The words gushed out of Chanyeol, bitter and full of remorse. "So that just makes me the bad guy here, doesn't it?"

"I'm not saying —I know you’re trying to be a good person,” Baekhyun stated, unsettlingly calm. “But have you ever drawn the line between trying and being one?”

“Jongin mattered to me. Hell, even you—“ Chanyeol stopped before he could say anything they would both regret hearing from him. Then, on impulse: “I am not my job, Baekhyun!”

Baekhyun didn’t budge to acknowledge him. “Leave,” he said quietly.

To this, Chanyeol no longer put up any argument. He realized there was nothing else he could do. What needed to be said had already been said. All that was left for him was to walk away from the aftermath.

—

There was no telling what was right anymore when Chanyeol came home to a ransacked apartment. Every bit of furniture he had was knocked over. The contents of each drawer pulled from each cabinet were spilled onto the floor. Chanyeol picked his way through the clutter as quickly as he could.

The commotion seemed to continue from inside his room, where two bulky strangers were busy turning the place upside down. One was stripping off Chanyeol's beddings and searching the mattress, the other, rummaging through his closets and discarding every item he could grab over his shoulder.

"HEY!" He stalked over to the nearest man and socked him across the face. Though he was taller, the man, who was much more muscular, quickly returned the punch. Hard.

Chanyeol crashed to the floor. "Who the hell are you s and what are you doing in my house?"

The goon who had punched him was about to send a foot down his face when the other, the one who had been emptying his closets, stopped him. "No, enough. He said not to."

"Who said what?!" Chanyeol demanded, still nursing a split lip.

The other man regarded him stiffly. "Luhan sent us."

"Luhan? What could that snivelling pretty-boy possibly want now?!"

The big man hulked over Chanyeol to deliver another blow, but his calmer companion held him back. "You watch your mouth," he threatened from behind the other's outstretched arm.

"He wants to know where the money is. Says he's getting tired of waiting," the other one said.

"What money? I've got nothing to do with—"

It suddenly dawned on Chanyeol that perhaps it wasn't him who owed anyone any money, and that the amount Jongin had mentioned was not as small as he let on.

"He'll be expecting something, or someone, to come up by next week," the second man said. He threw him a crumpled piece of paper which landed beside his head.

As they left, the first stopped by the door and sneered down at him, "Sorry about the mess." Then he spat onto his carpet.

~*~

Chanyeol found Luhan sitting by himself at the far corner of the cafe written on the paper. Accommodating a tall, lemon-wedged drink, he looked like the modern-day ideal of a prince attending to his own tea party. Business as usual.

It ticked Chanyeol off even more when Luhan bowed his head and greeted him cordially as he approached and took his seat. "How do you do, Mr. Park?"

"I'm not here for a nice little lunch date. I came to give you this." Chanyeol slid a blank check across the two of them. "Take it. I'm sure whatever you could milk out of it would be more than enough."

After a demure sip of his iced tea, Luhan swiped it off the table and secured it in his pocket. His pearly white teeth showed to form a beatific smile that made Chanyeol's blood run cold. "If I had known any sooner, I should have conducted business with you instead, Mr. Park. Such impressive work ethics."

Chanyeol felt too sick to reply.

"It's a shame though," Luhan sighed. He picked at an invisible piece of lint on his lapel. "I'm afraid duty calls in the good old homeland again. I may have rubbed off the wrong way with you small-time Seoul folk, and besides, the scene is getting pitifully boring nowadays, don't you think? Beijing and Shanghai—much bigger fish to fry there, is all." The gleam Chanyeol caught behind those long lashes was unspeakably sinister.

"That's fine. I won't be around to entertain you anyhow," Chanyeol said.

Luhan pouted. "You won't be coming to Gangnam?" he asked innocently. "Pity. Who's going to watch over our Jongin-ah, then? Aren't you going to miss him?"

"That's none of your business, you loathsome son of a— " Chanyeol stopped himself from going any further.

Luhan's expression remained bright and saccharine. "Did you say something, Chanyeol-ah? I didn't quite catch that."

Chanyeol remained silent instead, watching Luhan take his time in finishing his drink. Luhan gazed out the window at the people walking by, morbidly enthused at what he was seeing. A little girl passing right outside caught his eye and waved. He amiably waved back. Chanyeol resisted the urge to smash his glass against his head. When his bill arrived, he sent off the young waitress profusely blushing with a smooth, "Thank you, sweetheart," a generous tip, and an equally generous and gratuitous smile.

"That night Jongin OD-ed, it was because of you, wasn't it?" Chanyeol found himself saying.

Luhan titled his head to the side. "I don't know, was it?" His lips curled upwards. "Half a pack of pills, what could that do? It was still Jongin who took them, still Jongin who chose to choke on his bile instead of own up to his messes." He sat back and laced his fingers on the table. "Not like this event in itself wasn't a mess, dear me. And I absolutely detest messes, Mr. Park."

 “He has this habit of brushing things that bother him under the rug, and letting them stay there. I’m sure this scared him less enough to never make him bother with it again,” Chanyeol confirmed.

Luhan lightly dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Alright, just making sure.”

It was infuriating how he couldn’t punch Luhan across his pretty face as much as he wanted to, but he had already missed that window. Luhan took his leave first as Chanyeol just sat there. Some time had already passed after he left when Chanyeol realized his fists were still tightly clenched.

~*~

Dinner with Nana was the last thing Chanyeol wanted, but probably the thing he most needed at the moment. Days after meeting with Luhan, Nana called him up to ask if he was free that night.

But Chanyeol agreed nonetheless, and he got ready to see Nana, whom he hadn’t seen in weeks, even if his heart wasn’t really into it. Maybe that night he could ask her to be his girlfriend so he could finally grant himself a proper hold on what was happening in his life this time around. Maybe this could be his anchor.

He bought roses for the occasion, but no sooner than he got out of his car, he was already shoving them back in. From outside, he could see Nana with another man. Either way, Chanyeol entered the restaurant, realizing he was right to leave those flowers behind as Nana introduced him to her company.

“This is my fiancé, Kim Soo Hyun. He’s a professor at SNU,” she said, eyes shifting uneasily between them both. This was Nana waiting for something to happen. This was Chanyeol waiting for anything else to happen.

Nana was moving away now to study Seoul National and moving in Soo Hyun who was going to help her settle into the university. She wanted to see Chanyeol before she did.

“He’s been a good friend the past year,” Nana told Soo Hyun. This was Chanyeol pretending not to mind. This was Nana pretending.

When Nana kissed him goodbye before he left, right where Soo Hyun couldn’t see, it tasted like her favorite ice cream flavour, orange caramel. Some things never did change, but not once has Nana cried for him. There could have been tears mixed in that kiss too, but Chanyeol turned away before he could tell.

As he got home, he headed directly to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, exhausted, and that’s when he went under.

He could no longer unearth any trace of sweet pea perfume or spearmint mouthwash from his sheets to tide him over. There was only saltwater now, washing over him in the angry waves that swelled from his eyes. But it was the more crushing and unbearable loneliness which tethered itself to him so suddenly that weighed him down. This was his anchor.

And deeper and deeper, he drowned.

~*~

In the space between dreaming and waking, a ringing filled his ears and head. The sound was garbled, as if it had been submerged underwater, but it strangely soothing and melodic, like a wordless song. Then a tuneless beat pulled him up to the surface, and in the clearing he was met with voice:

“Hey, hyung. It’s Jongin. So, it’s obviously been a while, and I hope you’re doing okay. The guys at work still miss having you around and…I do too. Anyway, our last show before we head out is tonight and it would be cool if you could come. Let us know.”

A pause. “When I go to Gangnam, I'm gonna work. I'm gonna earn, save, and pay you back every last cent. I didn't know, so all I can say for now is thank you, Chanyeol-hyung. Bye, hyung.”

At that, he woke.

—

Chanyeol wasn’t much into a thinking mood when he braked inches away from another case of closely evaded manslaughter in what seemed like a cruel replay of past, all-too familiar events.

Still, like a routine he made it out of his car in record time to check on the kid he almost ran over. Sure enough, he was sprawled on the pavement about a meter away. His bike was relatively fine—Chanyeol’s tires missed it by centimeters—but a mess of cabbages lay around where he sat.

To Chanyeol’s surprise, it was actually that Sehun kid, meaning no eggs, skateboard, or Jongin like last time.

“Sehun-ah! You alright?”

“Yeah, I think,” he replied, taking Chanyeol’s hand.

“I’m really sorry!” Chanyeol bowed low.

“It’s fine,” Sehun said, picking up his bike and leaning it against a nearby post. As he stooped over to start inspecting any cabbages he could salvage, he added, “Happens all the time when people are feeling like morons, driving around with their heads not screwed on tightly enough.”

Chanyeol didn’t feel as injured by the statement, strangely. Instead, he shuffled to Sehun’s side and began saving any unwounded produce.  “Uh…I’ll help you with these!”

As they worked, Sehun broke the silence. “I just got back from helping Jongin move out of #88, actually.”

Chanyeol didn’t reply.

“Not much to help him with, though. He only had, like, a suitcase of stuff,” Sehun said, unabashed. “But he kinda just wanted me to come. To see him off, you know.”

A dull ache stung in Chanyeol’s chest. Other than that, he didn’t say anything again.

“I was wondering, though,” Sehun continued, a little quieter now. “Why you weren’t there, I mean.”

Chanyeol’s hands paused at a leaf. “Not sure either.”

Sehun shrugged. He grimaced as he nudged a cabbage head in the middle of a large puddle with the toe of his shoe. “This Key guy picked him up, asked me if I was interested in joining them. Said Jongin had a fine taste in friends with good bone structure, or something.”

Chanyeol let himself smile at that. Key was definitely someone he was going to miss, along with everyone. “Yeah? And what did you say?”

Sehun placed the last of the good cabbages back in the bag and stood up. “Nothing. Jongin told him to shut up and drive away before I could say anything.”

Chanyeol stood as well. After a few, he remembered to turn over the leaf in his hands and toss it in the bag Sehun carried. “What are you doing now?” he asked suddenly.

“Just now I was on my way to bring back these cabbages to my mom, but since you almost ran me over—“

“With your life, I meant,” Chanyeol clarified.

“Besides take up Chemical Engineering at Yonsei, deliver milk and newspapers in the morning—and in my free time, play a mean Assassin’s Creed, I guess”  Sehun answered nonchalantly, tongue sticking out as he rummaged through his rucksack. “Now where did I put my wallet…”

 Chanyeol wasn’t sure how what was unfolding before him could possibly be a Chemical Engineering major from Yonsei University, but regardless he suggested, “Tried your pocket?”

“Ah, yes, there. Thank you, hyung.”

He stood there awkwardly as Sehun made a last check on his rounded up stuff. Sehun looked like he was about ready to leave, but didn’t yet out of courtesy to Chanyeol who was still struggling with what to do or say next.

After some time, he motioned ahead of him, already pacing backwards towards his bike. “I’m going then, Chanyeol-hyung. Thanks for the help, and for, uh, not running me over.”

“Wait!”

Sehun paused in his steps, teetering between Chanyeol and his bike uncertainly.

“What are you…doing now?” Chanyeol asked, but this time out of pure interest. “Like, once you give your mom her groceries? Can I drive you home?”

“Probably try out the new Zelda game Jongin bought me.” Sehun tilted his head to the side. “Wanna come over and play?”

Chanyeol couldn’t even remember the last time he held a console. “That would be nice, thanks.”

~*~

After spending a considerable amount of time at Sehun’s, Chanyeol ended up not making it to the final show. Before he knew it, it was already dark out. For dinner, Sehun’s mom made cabbage stew and bulgogi.

He killed a few more hours at a nearby diner, hunched over the counter and letting the internal debate in his head run its course. The affirmative bench for “That showing up to Galaxy now would just make an out of Chanyeol” had already begun to take the upper hand when, halfway through his second milkshake, Junmyeon phoned in.

He let his phone ring a few more times, then upon picking up bombarded Junmyeon with a hurried, “I know I fell short on that check for the record company last week.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “And I’m sorry.”

There was silence on the other end of the line which only made Chanyeol’s heartbeat thud louder in his ears. He had never wanted to experience an angry Junmyeon, let alone imagine it.

However, he was surprised with a bright “On the contrary! I had the CD and payment sent to the head office two days ago.”

Chanyeol sat up. “Really? But where did you get the money?”

Junmyeon still sounded cheerful. “An anonymous donor dropped off a wad of cash the other day while I was out. Some tall, angry-looking Chinese dude, Yixing said. Sketchy fellow, but he was more than glad to have had his first Mandarin conversation in ages with him…”

Chanyeol could do nothing but listen to the rest of Junymeon’s excited chatter. It was overwhelming enough to try to speak over the great knot untangling itself in his stomach. The milkshakes didn’t help either.

“—was willing to play it, but probably off primetime hours for now,” Junmyeon finished. “Alright, I just wanted to let you know!”

“T-thanks, hyung,” Chanyeol managed weakly.

“Told you I was gonna get you released! Bye Chanyeol-ah, I look forward to seeing more of you around.” Junmyeon hung up.

Chanyeol gulped down his milkshake intently. He left not long after that.

—

It had been weeks since Chanyeol last set foot backstage, now empty and on the brink of desertion. Since the incident he dared not to. He'd rather keep the sight of Jongin lying cold and lifeless on the ground in the confines of his memory than to have it play out before his eyes again.

A shiver ran down his spine as he neared the corner where he found Jongin that night, like he was looking at an outline of Jongin's spread-eagled body chalked to the spot.

In reality, boxes stood stacked against the wall in its place. Chanyeol's hands came down on them, and they fell crashing down like the pillars of his resolve. As they did, a duffel that read Soo Man High Dance Varsity toppled into view.

Before he could kick it out of his line of vision, a voice sliced through his silent rage. "I thought I heard someone in here."

Chanyeol straigtened. "Heechul-hyung? You’re not at the send-off?”

Heechul sauntered in, and over to sit at his vanity. “I don’t know, do I have to be?”

Chanyeol followed him and stood behind him, head bowed in shame. “I’m…sorry you had to see that.”

“So you’re mad? Get mad,” Heechul said, shrugging.

“And you…” Chanyeol lifted his head slowly to look at Heechul. ”Are you mad at me?”

A moment passed. Heechul's reflection gazed at Chanyeol levelly. "Chanyeollie," it began, "the thing about these major failures is they always bounce back as greater comebacks.” Then, he faced him fully. “Have you ever heard about the burger story*?”

“Between you and Jaejoong-hyung, yeah? Pretty sure everyone knows about that,” Chanyeol said, unsure of where this was going.

“And you know about how he stole my burger when we first met? How much I hated it when people would go off with my food?”

Heechul still did hate it anytime anyone tried that to this day. Chanyeol learned that the hard way years ago when he almost did away with the rest of his kimchi fried rice. It often went unsaid, but it was known among all of them. Heechul survived through the toughest of times with only as much as a cup of ramyun to tide him over on his better days.

The story had been pretty hilarious to Chanyeol until Heechul told him the rest of it.

“It happened on the day my landlord kicked me out for falling short on six months’ worth of rent. I was on my way home from work to collect my stuff when I decided to buy myself a burger, because why the hell not? It was the best half of a burger I’ve ever had in my life, because as you know, when I came back from the restroom, it was already gone.” Heechul paused for a moment. “Along with my wallet and phone.”

Chanyeol frowned. “You left that part out.”

“I did. And I was alone and homeless in Seoul for a week because of it. Took a lot for me to swallow my pride and ask Hankyung if I could camp out on his couch for a bit.”

“Who’s Hankyung?”

One corner of Heechul’s lips twitched. “I was getting there, Chanyeol-ah.” He closed his eyes and rested his elbows on his knees. “Hankyung was the love of my life.”

Dumbstruck at the sudden bombshell, Chanyeol sputtered, “What— But— I mean, you and Puff…Boa and you— That thing you—“

“Well those were…” Heechul’s face wrinkled at the thought. Then he waved his hand, as if to swat it away. “Point is, we fall for people, not their es.”

Chanyeol’s heard that one before.

“When Kris took us both in, Jaejoong seemed like a familiar face. We became really good friends, but then he came clean to me that he had been the one who stole my stuff before. I recalled bumping into him on my way out of the restroom all those months ago. I didn’t speak for him for weeks after that.”

It had always been puzzling to Chanyeol as to how Heechul could have stayed angry with Jaejoong for something so petty for so long, but now it all fit together.

“That had been a pretty low point in my life, and what Jaejoong did helped bury me deeper down that slump. I still remembered the night I slept in a dumpster so clearly, I just couldn’t let it slide,” Heechul explained. Before continuing, he breathed in deeply, as if what he was about to say was going to be hard on him. “When Hankyung— When he broke my heart, Jaejoong broke his nose.”

A tiny “wow” was all Chanyeol could muster.

“He offered me to stay at his place after that, said it was his way of paying me back for all that trouble he had caused me in the past. I didn’t—couldn’t—move out even long after I had the means to, but he kind of just rolled with it.” Fondness seeped into Heechul’s tone. “We liked having each other around.”

Chanyeol simply nodded in understanding.

 “Jaejoong won’t be coming with us,” Heechul said, and he turned away from Chanyeol again. “To Gangnam.” There was a transparent sadness to that one statement Chanyeol could never place.

“But it’s okay with me, and Kris, and everyone else. He’s made a life for himself here—he has his best friends, and all those odd jobs of his he could never seem to let go of. It’s been fun and meaningful with him, but I’d rather leave him here where he’s always been happier.”

Chanyeol was relieved to see the reflection of his hyung’s tiny smile now that his desk was clear of any product. There was a small painful twinge in him, however, as he realized this might just be the very last time Heechul sat at his vanity.

Nonetheless, Chanyeol stepped over the great big chasm now opening up before him and this life, and shook Heechul’s hand. His grip was just as firm as it was the first time they met. If anything, it was firmer.

“Thanks, hyung.”

“See you on the flipside, kid.”

Chanyeol knew Jongin wasn’t the only one who owed anyone any comebacks.

—

A lone streetlamp provided a strip of light that illuminated the inside of Chanyeol’s pick-up with a sleepy orange glow. The green digits on his radio read 1:13 AM. It had been twenty minutes since Chanyeol had parked a block away from Jongin and Baekhyun’s apartment and took to sitting alone in the dark as if waiting for something to happen.

For a while, Chanyeol stared at the bag of food on the passenger seat like it was just going to suddenly grow legs and walk itself over to Baekhyun’s doorstep. But it didn’t, and it was no Kim Jongin or adopted little brother, so for the time being Chanyeol prayed to God it would suffice.

When he reached #88, his heart fluttered seeing light still shining through the blinds. He made for the stairs, quickly twisted around, went back again, then paused. The slap he gave himself rang loudly throughout the lonely complex.

Gathering his wits, he pressed the doorbell. Chanyeol held his breath.

After three rings, Baekhyun answered the door.

“Chanyeol?” His hair was mussed and he was wearing his worn pullover over his pajamas as if Chanyeol had just caught him in the middle of another late night study session. Chanyeol saw how his eyes were rimmed red behind his big glasses.

Baekhyun sniffled twice. “What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice, though thick, was still cold.

Chanyeol blinked once. it. Moving forward to cross the already shrinking gap between him and this life, he wrapped his arms around Baekhyun.

“I’ve got you now,” he murmured into Baekhyun’s hair. “Don’t worry.”

Baekhyun froze, but let Chanyeol hold him anyway.

When Chanyeol finally let go, Baekhyun asked him what was in the bag. Chanyeol told him it was home-brewed coffee and the best soft-baked pretzels in Sinchon, excuse you, addressing Baekhyun’s suspicious stare. After a beat, he added, no, Jongin didn’t put me up to this.

Baekhyun led them to the kitchen so they could have breakfast at 1 AM, or whatever this was, he said, and Chanyeol just laughed. Baekhyun tuned the radio to the indie station Chanyeol and Jongin used to sing to on the countless 1 AMs that preceded this because it played good oldies at 1 AM, and Chanyeol-hyung and Baek-hyung have always been old souls, Jongin once told him.

- In their trainee days, Jaejoong and Heechul actually fought over a burger which was pretty expensive back then since they didn’t have that much money. Apparently Jaejoong seized the chance when Heechul left the burger on a table to attend to something. Jaejoong left a note, and since Heechul didn’t have a mobile back then, he searched “high and low” for Jaejoong. They made up after though, and have been good friends ever since.