Yixing should have felt more relaxed when he awoke. Kai seemed like to be a good guy, and more than that, a good cop. Lu Han called earlier, interrupting a dream he’d thought important at the time and now could not remember, to say Kai had brought in a couple of Chuncheon cops undercover to watch him. That was good news.

               And at least now Sehun knew Yixing was alive. Yixing wasn’t yet ready to deal with how that felt. Hearing Sehun say, “So when are you coming, Xing?” as if Yixing hadn’t left without as much as a goodbye. As if he hadn’t tried to sell out of the company. As if he hadn’t left his best friends to wonder if he’d been swallowed by the earth itself, or worse.

                No questions. No recriminations. Just, “So when are you coming back, Xing?”

                He looked at the faint print in the wallpaper, a trellised pattern so subtle he had to lean close to be sure it was even there, and wondered how much of life was exactly like that: patterns engraved in our existence that we don’t even notice. We look right past them, he thought, willfully blind both to risk and opportunity, to trap and treasure.

                Oh sure, he knew he liked Sehun and the other guys. They had started with an idea ̶  no, a dream ̶  and they’d turned it into reality together. You didn’t do something like that and not form bonds. But they were the guys at work, after all. Yeah, you talked about lives, kids, and ups and downs, but they were just the guys at work.

                Until you abandoned them, wallowing in grief and self-pity and guilt. Walked away from the dream you’d built up into reality together as if it was so much litter on the sidewalk, already just another tattered shred of history. You went off chasing a cockamamie vision that you couldn’t tell a soul for fear of ending up in a psych ward, but you couldn’t ignore it for fear of worse. Then you met your vision, up close and in real life, and that just scared you all the more because things like that did not happen. But they did.

                And did you call home for a reality check? Call home to apologise? Hell no. You called home to ask a friend to commit a crime for you. And he did it without a moment’s hesitation. And he said, “So when are you coming back, Xing?” as if you’d done nothing more than take an afternoon off for a round of golf.

                If a God existed and really gave a damn, was really fair, all of the other good stuff that people with faith said they believed, there was a special place in heaven for people like Sehun. And rather than kick himself for what he’d done, or wondering why Sehun was the kind of man he was, Yixing decided to do the one thing that made even the slightest sense in a moment of reflection in a hotel room in a faraway place he’d stumbled to in bizarre vision. He picked up the phone.

                It was silent for a moment, and then Yixing heard the voice of the front-desk clerk. “Can I get you something, Mr. Zhang?”

                So she had learned his real name somehow. Everything he’d heard about small tight-knit communities appeared to be true. But of course it was. His throat tightened briefly as he thought of the close-knit community he’d left behind. Sehun and Tao and all the others. “Yes. I need to make an international call. I guess you need my credit card for that?”

              “We usually would,” the woman said. “But since it’s you, just make the call. Hold on and I’ll give you an outside line.”

                “Um, thanks, but ̶“

                “Mr. Zhang,” she said, “I don’t know much. But when inspector Kai says ‘good people’, I know what that means. You just go right on being ‘good people’ and make the call. Okay?”

                Yixing swallowed. “Okay, sure. Thank you.”

                “And Mr. Zhang?”

                “Yes?”

                “Don’t waste much time on apologies. Good friends don’t need it and the rest won’t listen. And somehow I bet you’re calling the kind of friend who won’t need it.”

                My God, he thought, as he waited for the dial tone, did this whole town read minds? Or had someone at the inspector’s office gossiped? Most likely the latter, he decided.

               Moments later he had a dial tone and punched in the numbers from memory. “Oh Sehun’s office,” the woman said. What was her name? Suzy.

                “Um, Suzy. . .this is Yixing. Zhang Yi-“

                “Oh sure, Mr. Zhang. I’ll put you right through.”

                He had to let himself smile.

                “Hey, hyung! What’s up?”

“Nothing, really,” Yixing said, only now truly realising how badly he missed Sehun. He had one of those moments that had happened too often since the plane crash, a surging flood of memory. This had been a good part of his past, but still, did everything have to be painful?

                He cleared his throat and spoke again. “I just woke up and realised that I didn’t explain anything when I called you yesterday. Not why I left or anything. Just asked you for a favor. A big favor, as it turned out. It was selfish of me and ̶ “

                “One more word like that and I’m hanging up,” Sehun said. “You know me better than that, or you wouldn’t have called and just asked for that favor. And I did it. So you not only know me, but you’re right. So no explanations and no apologies, okay? We’re all just happy to hear you’re okay. Or the rest of them are.”

                “Oh?” Yixing asked.

                “I didn’t tell them anything. Just that you called and you’re okay. I couldn’t tell them the rest. And I’m not sure how much I can say on this line. Get me?”

                “Yeah,” Yixing said. “I get you. I don’t like what I’m getting, though.”

                “You shouldn’t, hyung,” Sehun said. “That stuff you asked about is serious, big-time, ‘up your rectum from a thousand miles away’ kind of stuff. That far and that accurate. Still getting me?”

                “I am. And I’m liking it less and less.”

                “Then you’re hearing what I’m saying. Keep your head down, hyung. Whatever you’re doing, whyever you’re doing it, keep your head down. We want you back, but not for a funeral. Okay?”

                “You got it,” Yixing said. “Head down, no funeral. I think I can still fathom simple instructions.”

                “I keep it too damn simple cuz you’re too damn smart,” Sehun said. “As always.”

                Yixing managed a laugh. “Yes, sir.”

                The tension in Sehun’s voice lapsed for an instant, and he actually chuckled. “Now I know you’re getting me.”

                “You’re the best, Hunnie. I want to say that much. And I want to say thank-you. That’s what I really called to say. Just. . .thank you.”

                “You’d do it for me,” Sehun said. “For any of us here. We always knew that. So do what you need to do and get your back here, where your friends can babysit you. And if you’ve met some friends there, and it sounds like you have, bring them back with you. Always need more friendly folk in this city.”

                “We’ll see,” Yixing said, feeling his chest tighten again with emotion. “I gotta go, Hunnie. Thanks again.”

                The tension returned. “Head down, hyung. Way, way down. That’s the no bovine manure, straight-up scoop.”

                “I get it, Hunnie. I get it.”

                “Get it, and don’t forget it.”

                Always the coach, Yixing thought as he hung up the phone. And always the friend. More’s the point, if Sehun’s instincts were right  ̶  and they were rarely wrong  ̶  Lu Han was  in a lot more danger than Yixing had imagined. If those chips were the reason someone wanted Lu Han dead, that someone wouldn’t be sending any amateurs. He’d find pros.

                “He needs the Secret Service,” Yixing said to the trellised wallpaper. “And I’m just a half-crippled geek.”

                You’re not God, Kai had said. But what was the rest? Let Him do His job, and you do yours. Well, he wasn’t sure what his job was. But he was damn sure going to try.

It was still early afternoon when Yixing returned. Lu Han saw him on the porch and immediately opened the door, greeting him effusively and reaching for his hand to draw him inside.

                Yixing looked startled, but Lu Han didn’t explain until he closed the door behind him.

                “That was for the benefit of my guardians.”

                “Oh, the cops.”

                “Exactly. So they don’t have to come over to check you out.”

                “Oh.” He looked a little downcast, but then an impish smile, utterly unexpected, appeared. “I wouldn’t have minded at all if you’d meant it.”

                His cheeks colored faintly. “You seem to have. . .changed.”

                “I had a good talk with Sehun. I –“ He broke off. After a moment he found his voice again. “I realised that in running from the bad things, I ran from the good, too. I need to start reestablishing my connections with the good things.”

                “I’m happy for you.” And he was. In spite of feeling a strong pang in his heart, because that meant he would be leaving as soon as this business was over. But hadn’t he known that all along?

                Still, the pang persisted as they went to sit in the living room so Yixing could be comfortable. Sitting on the couch side by side should have made him feel close to him, but the gulf was still there, larger than twelve inches between them would have indicated.

                “I’m glad you talked to Sehun again.” And he meant it. It was only a small, selfish part of him that didn’t, and he pushed that park back.

                “Me, too.” A long breath escaped him, as if he were releasing something. “It’s amazing. He acted like I never went away. And just like that, it felt like I never had. He wouldn’t even let me apologise.”

                “They say you can judge a man by his enemies, but if you ask me, you can judge him better by his friends. You seem to have some very good ones.”

                “The best,” he agreed. “God, I don’t want to choke up again.”

                “Why not? You’re allowed to.”

                Yixing glanced at him. “Haven’t you heard? It’s not manly.”

                “Where you’ve been, I think it would be less manly if you pretended to feel nothing.”

                “I haven’t been able to pretend that for a long time.”

                “So don’t start.”

                Yixing  turned sideways and reached for his hand. When he didn’t object, he closed his fingers around his and squeezed gently. “There’s more to talk about than whether I’m very lucky in my friends.”

                “I don’t know that I’d call it luck, but go on.”

                “Sehun said something that scared the bejesus out of me.”

                Lu Han tensed. “Do I want to know?”

                “I think you h