Baekhyun snatched the box of Panadols that Jongdae had added to the assortment of sticky tapes, scissors, stapler, and boxes of staples on the counter before the cashier could reach for it. “Where the hell did you get this from? What do we need this for anyway?”

“It’s a one-stop shop,” Jongdae said, gesturing towards the right of the so-called campus bookstore, where there was an assortment of clothes, lollies, and generic medications. “And there’s a percussion ensemble performing in my head.”

“Oh, that reminds me what I wanted to buy,” Baekhyun said, handing the small box back to Jongdae. “You don't need this. I think he should still be on campus.”

“Who? Your dr-” Jongdae halted, apparently realizing that it wasn’t a good idea to announce the presence of a drug dealer on campus in public. He placed the box of Panadols back on the counter. “I don’t need something that strong.”

Baekhyun snatched it again, making the cashier frown. “If it’s so strong then your headache wouldn’t be back so soon.”

“I guess whatever you gave me doesn’t work on me,” Jongdae said, gesturing at the box of Panadols. “I'll get those. They might work.”

“You think Panadol works better than Panadeine Forte? Really?”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to pay for them.”

“Anything else?” the cashier interrupted, giving the box of Panadols a pointed look.

“No, that’s all,” Baekhyun said, shoving the box at Jongdae. “Forget about this. I’ll get you something better.” He paid for all the stationery that they wouldn’t have to buy if they bothered to make the five-minute trip back home as Jongdae hesitantly went to replace the box, and slung the plastic bag the cashier handed to him over one shoulder.

“What do you have against Panadols?” Jongdae asked as they headed out of the bookstore.

“They don’t do . Maybe I should just get you some straight-up codeine. No, I know. Oxy. That will work.”

“So basically what you’re saying is that the only way to cure a hangover is by becoming a druggie.”

“No, I’m trying to help you out. I’m being a good friend here.”

“I think you’re getting your priorities mixed up. Half an hour ago you didn’t even know my name.”

“You’re still hung up on that?” Baekhyun asked, fixing a contemplative gaze on Jongdae. “You know what, I’ll buy us a few oxys and we can get high together. What do you say?”

“Suddenly you have all the money in the world,” Jongdae muttered. “We both know the only reason you’re trying to be nice to me is because you used up all my printing credit.”

Baekhyun glanced down at the stack of paper in Jongdae’s hands. He might have gone a bit overboard while printing out the notices. “No, really, I’m offering. Straight from the heart.”

“No, let’s just put all these notices up so I can go back and sleep.”

“You sure?”

Jongdae nodded. “I’ll live.”

“Let’s go to the courtyard then,” Baekhyun said, heading towards the large open courtyard situated at the heart of the campus. “Why didn’t the Panadeine Fortes make you groggy though? That’s weird.”

“They got rid of the headache for a while. That’s good enough.”

“Maybe I should get you some rohies.”

Jongdae frowned. “Some what?”

“Rohypnol. You know, the date drug. It’ll zonk you out and when you wake up feeling like just take a couple more.”

“So you’re setting up a path for me to become an addict. That’s nice,” Jongdae said dryly.

“Do I look like a druggie to you?”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“Obviously you’ve never met a real druggie.”

“Have you?”

“I dated that hippie,” Baekhyun said, matter-of-fact.

“So you do know that he’s not a conventional hippie.”

“He’s not a druggie but some of the people he knew were.”

“He might not be a druggie but he’s definitely a dealer,” Jongdae mumbled. “Sometimes I wonder if that guy screwed you up more than anything else.”

“In what way am I screwed up, exactly?”

“You have to admit that after Chanyeol and me, he’s an odd third choice.”

“Because he doesn’t live with us?”

Ignoring him, Jongdae continued, “It’s like you screwed someone up, you literally screwed someone nonstop, and then you wanted someone to screw you up. Apparently that druggie – I’m sorry, drug dealer was the perfect choice.”

“I screwed you up? Really now?”

“How did you meet him? Why did you date him?”

“It’s been two years, mum. I don’t remember.”

Jongdae’s eyes widened as he appeared to have a lightbulb moment. “Don’t you think it’s all those drugs he gave you that fried your brain to the point where your memory’s worse than a stoned goldfish’s?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“What’s my name?”

“Oh look, you don’t even need drugs to have a fried brain. Sarcasm is the keyword you’re looking for.”

“Seriously, what’s my name?”

“Kim Jongdae. Duh.”

“You’re a bit more alert than I thought,” Jongdae remarked, studying Baekhyun as if expecting him to slip up at any second. “But your memory gaps are still worrying.”

“What memory gaps?”

“You know what I’m talking about. What if those drugs are also what's making you delusional?”

“Okay, so I’m amnesiac and delusional because I took some drugs two years ago. What else should I be worried about, doctor? Aside from your obvious prejudice against drug users, I mean.”

“Illegal drug abusers,” Jongdae corrected. “Whom I have every right to be prejudiced against. How long have you been delusional?”

Baekhyun looked at him with blatant derision. “What kind of question is that?”

“Of course you wouldn’t know,” Jongdae mumbled to himself. “When was the last time you saw your parents?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“When?”

Baekhyun sighed. “When I was seventeen. You know that.”

“Both of them?”

“No, just my mum,” Baekhyun said, stopping at the first tree in the courtyard. “Stapler or tape?”

“Stapler. When was the last time you saw your dad?”

“When I was… I don’t know, ages ago?” Baekhyun said, tearing open the packaging for the heavy-duty stapler. “He’s one of those stoic dad types.”

“When you were in high school? Primary school?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “Kindy or primary school.”

“Basically you don’t know him,” Jongdae said, handing one of the notices to Baekhyun when he had loaded the stapler.

Baekhyun secured the notice to the tree with a staple on each corner of the paper. “I don’t know him well, but I know him enough.”

“Like the fact that he’s a carpenter who also happens to be a religious bigot.”

Baekhyun walked over to the next tree, a slight frown on his face. “No, he’s just very principled.”

“So you think you’re in the wrong?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun repeated, taking one of the notices from the stack in Jongdae’s hands to staple it to the tree

“I thought you wanted him to come around?”

“Despite what you think, I’m not delusional,” Baekhyun said, shooting Jongdae a bland look as he stapled the last corner of the paper.

“What if I tell you that your dad doesn’t exist and you’re making all this bull up to kick yourself around for whatever reason?”

“Oh for god’s sake, not again,” Baekhyun muttered, moving on to the next tree. “What do you have against my dad?”

“Other than him being a lousy excuse for a dad and imaginary to boot, nothing much.”

“What did he say to you?”

“I never spoke to him.”

“A few months ago when he called me and you answered,” Baekhyun insisted. “What did he say to you?”

Jongdae handed the topmost notice in the stack to Baekhyun when he made no move to take it himself. “I told you. He said he supported gay marriage and he wanted you to change your mobile plan.”

Baekhyun frowned. “For real this time.”

“That’s what he said. I kid you not.”

“You started your crusade against him after that phone call. He must have said something that rubbed you the wrong way.”

“You’re right. He was so persistently affable that I got annoyed and decided to make him into a mythical creature. You know, as you do.”

Baekhyun maintained a steady gaze on Jongdae for a moment before finally taking the piece of paper he was offering. “I don’t know what you’re trying to hide from me.”

“Me neither.”

“Maybe instead of making amateur attempts at psychoanalysing me, you should psychoanalyse yourself,” Baekhyun said, stapling the notice to the tree.

“No, I’m not done with you yet.”

Baekhyun sighed. “I’m delusional, my brain’s fried, I don’t have a father, and I’m Jesus. What else?”

Jongdae seemed to give that question some thought. “If I stop and think about it, I don’t think it’s a simple matter of drugs wrecking your brain anymore.”

“Yeah, because I’ve been clean for most of the past two years.”

“No, because you never slept with our tutor in first semester.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I did.”

“We didn’t even pass that group assignment. You don’t just forget things, you make things up too.”

Baekhyun frowned. “What makes you so sure that what you remember is right?”

“Because I’m the saner one between us.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Well, I don’t fall into random bouts of depression over imaginary phone calls, for one.”

“Who are you?” Baekhyun asked suddenly.

Jongdae pointed at himself quizzically. “Who, me? Your friend and housemate for the past three years?”

“Where do you come from? Who’s your family? Why are you so interested in me? For all I know, you could be a loony bin escapee.”

“I go to uni, I rent a house. I’m about as easy to track as a microchipped pet. I’d be a pretty lousy escapee if I was one.”

“You could’ve used fake documents and work your way around everything but it doesn’t matter. I don’t ask you anything and I don’t question what you tell me. That’s what friends do.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Jongdae mumbled under his breath before shaking the stack of notices in his hands. “I think we should hurry up with these. The voice of reason is telling me that I should be in bed right now, or maybe curled up on the bathroom floor.”