Baekhyun knew one thing—he had to send that guy to hell.

It had been approximately 7 days since his roommate and best friend, Do Kyungsoo, came home with a runny nose and tears in his eyes. Baekhyun sputtered to find out what was wrong, but the younger only settled on reassuring him that it was the usual.

However, to Baekhyun, this wasn’t just the usual.

“The usual involves you coming home at around 11:23 pm, shouting and cussing because your date/boyfriend either cheated or dumped you. This is literally the first time I’ve seen you cry Kyung—this isn’t the usual.”

Baekhyun hands Kyungsoo the tissue box from on top of his desk table, making sure that Kyungsoo calms down before he asks any more questions. He tried to coo so that the boy would lessen the sobs as curfew has long forbidden them from causing any more uproar.

When Baekhyun finally notices that Kyungsoo had settled down, he hands him a glass of water. “Speak clearly and quiet—we’re on curfew.”

Kyungsoo nodded, gulping the glass down. “Kris broke up with me.”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow, his hands precariously placed on his hips. His watermelon printed pajama buttons hung lose around his waist, and his plain white shirt is hanging low from his shoulders. It was 2 am—and if anyone were to find out that they were still up—the dorm head would send them to the dean first thing in the morning.

“Well—that was anti-climactic. Kyung, the amount of people who broke up with you in one lifetime equates to the number of bowties Junmyeon keeps at his top shelf. What’s so special about this one that you’re bawling your eyes out?”

Kyungsoo finally lessens his sobs. “You see—he—kissed me.”

Baekhyun has heard enough. “Are you ing serious.”

Kyungsoo nods reluctantly, his head hung low as he was far too ashamed to face Baekhyun at the moment. Kyungsoo was the epitome of innocence—whenever someone asks him out, it would always be a sure yes. The problem with Kyungsoo is that he falls too hard, and when he gets dumped, well, lets just say that innocence is an overstatement.

“Did he do anything else? Did he touch you anywhere? Didn’t you already promise yourself you’ll only kiss the person you confess to?” Baekhyun says softly, padding Kyungsoo’s back. The boy was still wearing his anchor printed button down, the dark blue color perfectly mirroring Kyungsoo’s equally dark hair.

“No—no, he just kissed me.” He choked out, trying to loosen the top button with his thumb and index finger. Baekhyun notices the tremor in his hands, obviously too terrified from the ordeal.

“I’m so sorry Kyungsoo—it must have been terrifying.” Baekhyun says as he brings a reassuring arm around the little boy’s body, bringing him in closer as he leaned his head against the younger’s head.

“I’ll kill him.” Baekhyun says in utter seriousness that Kyungsoo pulls a smile. “I’ll kill him for sure.”

“You don’t need to.” Kyungsoo says with a chuckle, clearing away the remaining tears resting on his lower eyelids. Baekhyun notices the heaviness in his eyes, and he knew any later than this would break Kyungsoo.

“You head unto bed, yeah? We’ll deal with this tomorrow. Which one was Kris, again?”

Baekhyun has to admit, the number of people Kyungsoo has dated (and broken up with) is far too great, jokingly exclaiming that it was higher than his own grade point average (which was the perfect score).

“I don’t really have a picture of him—he hated those.” Kyungsoo says, trying to muster up the perfect description. “Tall, around six-foot-two, blonde hair, 70kg—“

Baekhyun bathes in the silence as he realizes that Kyungsoo has dozed off, smiling as he tucked the younger into his bed. When Baekhyun says he’ll deal with it—he really will.

Even if it’s the last thing he’ll do.

“Damn… all of them fit the description perfectly.” Baekhyun is hiding—yes, hiding—in one of the bushes in the school across the street. He had shades on, a handkerchief around the top part of his head, and a facemask on the latter. All around him are boys far too sparkly to be considered human, and all he has to do is look from side-to-side to realize he’s in town.

“—I’ll never find him.” Baekhyun says squinting as he looks for opening to sprint into. Seoul High was the school across Seoul U, which was the in-house school Baekhyun was currently attending. There would be jokes, how Seoul U should be crowned Seoul High instead—and that Seoul High should change their name to Seoul Low.

Seoul High was infamous for their, say, rather rich and low IQ students. If you didn’t pass Seoul U—to Seoul High you go, at least, if you could afford it.

“Kris… Kris… Kris…” Baekhyun whispers as he goes through each locker, each locker noticeably far too luxurious for comprehension. Each locker has a name engraved in script on it, and Baekhyun has to roll his eyes because this is so impractical.

He grazes each name lightly with his fingers, muttering the names as he passed through the empty hallways.

“Luhan… Jongin… Minseok… Yixing… Where is it?” Baekhyun says with a scowl as these lockers seemed endless. When he reaches the latter part of the hallways, he tries his hardest not to let his mouth gape open.

At the end of the rather seemingly unending hallways were lockers that surpassed all forms of impractically and stupidity—golden lockers.

“Where the hell do they get funds for this.” Baekhyun scowls even more as he passes through each locker. His fingers finally graze the word Kris, which was on a platinum makeshift looking label. He looks at the other gold lockers, and reads the name that also had a similar makeshift platinum looking label. “Chanyeol.” He reads out loud, baffled by the excessive amount of effort put into the aesthetics of this school. Baekhyun sighs—hopefully this is the right one.

“Well, it probably is.” He says as the word Kris rolls dreadfully down his tongue. “Kris is a tacky name.”

“Tell me about it.”

Baekhyun freezes in his crouched-squat, and he feels as if his shirt is lifting up a bit, exposing some of his skin. He’s scared, far too scared to realize that he has been ultimately found out.

All of the sudden, Baekhyun’s brain cells start to surge to which Baekhyun knows and understands as panic—faintly the same emotion he felt back in third grade when he found out his grade point average could have gotten a deduction of 0.001 due impotence.

Baekhyun isn’t moving—he has mastered the art of staying still (which he masters and uses generously when he studies for exams).

“Hello?” The voice behind him says, and Baekhyun can feel the proximity closing between them.

“He’s just 5 feet away from me. If I make a run for the exit on my northeast, I could lose him in the computer labs.” Baekhyun thinks to himself (not that he memorized the campus map, or anything.)

Before Baekhyun could move, the voice speaks up again.

“Are you looking for Kris’ locker?” The voice says, and Baekhyun feels the utter relief knowing that it wasn’t Kris he was standing behind him.

“Maybe I could make a deal with this kid—if I play my cards right, he could possible hate Kris too. School statistics say that around 73% of the school knows Kris, and only 12% actually like him—“

“—Hello?”

Baekhyun settles with his intuition and slowly stands up from the rather painful squat. Baekhyun was a genius—never an athlete.

“Hi.” Baekhyun with his Nobel Prize winning smile as his fan club would say (yes, he has one).

“Sup.” Says the man who was probably a head taller than Baekhyun. His blonde hair is carefully brushed to the side, the loose, wavy strands ghosting right above his forehead. His eyes seemed far too sharp to belong to a teenage boy (it belonged more to a mafia boss, really).

“Darn it,” Baekhyun thinks, biting his lip. “This guy fits the description too well. Am I being fooled?”

“Would you happen to know if this is… Kris Wu’s locker?” Baekhyun says with the same smile, his hand hovering right beside the golden locker. The man eyes Baekhyun from head-to-toe, silent in his stance.

“Yeah… It is.” He says with a low voice, his eyes widening a bit. “Do you have any business with him?”

Baekhyun had two options, in which he had brainstormed the moment the voice spoke up: say Revenge or Confession.

“Oh—nothing really.” He settles with not involving himself in other people’s business, carefully dusting off his white shorts. His loose blue plaid top hangs from his shoulders and is falling waist down, lightly covering the top hem of his shorts. He wants to exit as quietly as possible, and if he only brought his memory ray, he would’ve wiped the guy’s memory of him clean.

“You sure? Because if you’re going to do something bad to it—I would gladly pitch in.” Says the man, who was now giving Baekhyun a low smile.

Baekhyun is still on guard, his hands tightly sinking into his backpack straps. Inside his backpack was phase one of payback—self-exploding smell paint balls.

“…What makes you so sure that I can trust you?” Baekhyun exclaims, taking a step back. He doesn’t want to be found out—not hear nor at Seoul U—because it would seriously ruin his spotless record.

“Well, I hate the owner of that locker more than anything.” The man says, closing the distance between him and Baekhyun. “In short, I am willing to do whatever it takes to ruin his life.”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow, his unconditional habit of carelessly placing his hands on his hips showing for additional intimidation and confidence, as he would say.

“Okay… What will you do to reassure me that you aren’t lying?” Baekhyun says, shifting his weight to his left foot.

“Well—locker pranks are a thing of the past. If you want a bigger scale, I suggest you do more than just… whatever you’re going to do. You’re obviously not from this school, whereas I am. I can get a closer proximity with the owner of that locker. I’ll be your eyes within campus. Your leg to kick him in the shin, your arm to hit him where it hurts—“

Baekhyun sees the blunt hatred in the man’s eyes, and nods obediently. “Okay, okay, I get it. If you’re really willing then I’ll keep in touch.” Baekhyun says as he hands the boy a calling card—the card he makes when he wants to get in touch with people without them finding out who he is.

The man looks at the card in interest. “Your name isn’t on here.”

Baekhyun nods, obviously.

“I understand that you don’t want your identity to be revealed. I respect that, but what can I call you?”

Baekhyun’s mouth twists to a different angle, trying to concoct the most genius pseudonym ever known to man.

“Dom.” Baekhyun says, to which he grins.

Short for domineer. As in, I’m going to domineer Kris Wu’s life out of his body.

“Okay… Dom?” Says the man, who has a hard time trying speak altogether. Baekhyun notices everything—the man’s accent, the man’s eye twitch, the man’s movements—everything in order to assure him of oncoming agreement. “I’m… Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun recalls the name. “Chanyeol, the name of the guy with the locker beside Kris.” Baekhyun eyes him warily—what if this was a trap?

“Your locker is right beside Kris Wu’s—which is suspicious. If you were locker neighbors, shouldn’t you be friends?” Baekhyun deduces, his arms folding over his chest.

“Nah.” Chanyeol shrugs, obviously not phased. “Not one bit. The guy who owns that locker is a downright . Just because we’re locker neighbors, doesn’t mean we’re friends.” Chanyeol remarks, eyeing the locker from behind Baekhyun.

“What do you plan on doing to it anyway?” Chanyeol asks, his hands in his pockets. He’s closer to Baekhyun now, who was making his way with the locker.

“Damn, since it’s gold, it’ll be hard to penetrate it with my laser.” Baekhyun says as he fiddles with the tiny pen contraption. Chanyeol peers from behind him, far too interested in what the smaller boy was going to do.

“It’ll take me some time, but can you, uh, be my lookout?” Baekhyun asks Chanyeol with pleading eyes, far too embarrassed to already be asking for so much. Much to his relief, the boy nods. “No problemo.”

Chanyeol swiftly turns his back towards Baekhyun, who immediately goes with melting a bit of the gold at the latter area of the locker. He makes a hole just big enough to slip the malodorous paint pellets into the spacious locker. Baekhyun imagines the scene unfold in his mind.

“The moment that dingbat opens his locker… boom!” Baekhyun thinks to himself, chuckling as he inserted the last one. “That’ll teach you to mess with my best friend.”

Baekhyun uses the same laser to seal the locker back off, polishing is so that the circled hole is completely away from sight. Baekhyun was good when it came to construction and deduction, and his pen laser was his second best friend, right after Kyungsoo.

“Okay, the plan has been executed.” Baekhyun says with a smile as he wiped away the sweat from his forehead. “It was a pleasure working with you, Mr. Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun skips on ahead of Chanyeol, back into the direction of the exit. “I will be keeping in touch.”

Baekhyun slips through the doors, leaving Chanyeol alone in the hallway.

He’s smiling, like the entire situation amazed him from start to finish, and all he could do was hold it in.

“Kris, you jackass.” Says a voice from behind him, making him swivel into the direction of the very angry man walking towards him. “You ing abandoned me in PE today. We did a ing relay—I was literally the only person who suffered from post long limbed embarrassment.

Chanyeol, no, Kris gives the man a smile as he extends a hand out to pat him on the shoulder. “Sorry, my brother. I had very important business to take care of. Don’t worry, your long limbs are your strong point.”

The man is frowning, his eyebrow knitting together in anger as Kris turned around, his hands in his pockets. “You cutting class again today? For Kyungsoo?”

Kris is left in his footsteps, phased when the very specific name was mentioned. “Shut up, Chanyeol. We broke up.”

Chanyeol shrugs as Kris continues to walk towards the same door the fooled Baekhyun just exited from. Kris turns around for one last time in Chanyeol’s direction as the school bells ring, students from all corners of classrooms spilling out into the corridor.

Kris leaves with a smile when the locker explodes in Chanyeol’s face.

            Baekhyun didn’t really like lying—especially not to Kyungsoo.

            “Where were you yesterday? It was our only rest day for the entire week. I looked for you at the library but the librarian said you didn’t even check in at all. Now I have this very, very strong gut feeling that your little disappearance is linked to my rather recent heartbreak, so spill.”

            If it was anything, Kyungsoo knew Baekhyun the most, even more than he knew himself. Kyungsoo had been meaning to ask Baekhyun about what he was up to this morning, but he was far too drowsy to realize that Baekhyun had already departed earlier on.

            “I didn’t do anything.” Baekhyun shrugged, seeing as Kyungsoo was so determined that he pinned and hunted Baekhyun down all the way to his calculus class—which Kyungsoo hates since he’s gets a 3.9 instead of a 4.0.

            “You’re lying—God, you’re totally lying! I told you never to lie to me, and you promised!” Kyungsoo says with a scowl as he swats Baekhyun with his hand, to which Baekhyun pathetically defends with his ruler. “Stop, Kyungsoo, it hurts—stop!”

            Kyungsoo sighs as he finally feels like he’s beaten Baekhyun enough to satisfaction. “You’re crazy. You may be the smartest kid in this school of smart kids, but don’t think I don’t know about your little shenanigans.” Kyungsoo says as he rubs the back of his neck, silently leaning back into the desk beside Baekhyun.

            “What shenanigans—my record is as clean as Junmyeon’s.” Baekhyun remarks, looking up at the clock. “Class starts in 5 minutes, you really should be heading out.”

            Kyungsoo lifts his head to give Baekhyun a suspicious glare, but ultimately gives up. “If I hear about anything happening to Kris in the very, very near future—I will immediately assume it’s your fault. Got it?”

            Baekhyun nods indignantly, waving as Kyungsoo takes his leave.

            Nothing bad will happen to Mr. Kris Wu… at least, not yet.

            “I swear to God, it was definitely you.” Chanyeol hisses to the smug looking guy who had taken the seat across him at their usual cafeteria bench. Kris is laughing, and Chanyeol is squinting, sending mental waves of shame towards Kris.

            Unfortunately for Chanyeol, Kris Wu is immune to shame.

            “Hell no was it me. It’d be too much of a burden to set up such a well thought of prank. Props to whoever managed to break through your fortified locker.”

            Chanyeol spent the last few hours in the shower, trying his best to scrub out the paint from his body, clothes, hair—everywhere. After an hour’s attempt, he feels this is the best he could have done.

            “Damn you—you’re the only person I can think of! You switched the names on our lockers again to avoid confession lockers. That prank was set for you. God, I knew I shouldn’t have gotten a removable name plate.”

            Kris is smiling in triumph as he sees Chanyeol hunch his back. Chanyeol was contemplating, thinking of all possible possibilities to the event that had happened earlier. When the pellets exploded, Chanyeol was sent flying.

            And he stunk, bad.

            “I can still smell you from a mile away—don’t you have perfume or something?” Luhan remarks as he waves his hand right above his nose, trying his best to block out the smell.

            “Do you think I didn’t try? I spent an hour in the showers trying to get rid of the paint, and another 5 minutes drowning myself in perfume.” Chanyeol is sniffing himself, scowling as he realized nothing from Jongin’s elaborate set up of designer perfumes worked for him. “I need a real shower.”

            “Yeah, you really do. You practically smell like a walking Givenchy-Verasce Eau De Parfum mess.” Jongin says with a sigh, looking down at his phone. “You smell even worse after going through my stuff. My very precious stuff.”

            Chanyeol doesn’t really listen in anymore, far too busy trying to figure out who the root of all of this was. “No one in this school would be willing to even step a foot into our lunch table area, let alone prank us.” Yixing says as his rams his thumbs into his Nintendo 3DS, not bothering to spare his tablemates a glance. “Must be some kind of alien intervention, or worse—Seoul U.”

            It was a known fact in Seoul High that students from Seoul U are to be avoided. They are the black plague in a sea of puppies, the cold war in their very expensive history books.

            “You think a nerd is out to get Kris?” Chanyeol emphasizes on the word nerd, the perfect pseudo-generalization of the entire Seoul U populate.

            “Yeah—it could happen.” Minseok says with a shrug as he flips through a magazine. Chanyeol gazes at him and immediately looks away as once again, the boy is wearing clothes far too bright for human comprehension.

            “Not interested.” Kris says as he types away in his phone, obviously tuning out the conversation. “If any case, it should be Chanyeol that’s targeted. Whoever did it probably saw through the locker scam.” Kris chimes, trying to give Chanyeol a different idea, an idea away from the fact that, yes, it was a Seoul U student.

            “Why—why on earth would anyone think of targeting me?” Chanyeol raises an eyebrow, and is leaning to close to the table that his arms are resting awkwardly on it. “I’m the son of a hotel tycoon.”

            “Exactly. Never knew you were this smart, Mr. Chanyeol.” Kris says in the most monotone voice he can procure—rubbing the sarcasm into Chanyeol’s unknowing face. “Hotel tycoon equals money equals power equals fear equals rebellion equals a bunch of people out to get you, .” Kris says with a snare, returning Chanyeol’s foul look.

            “You’re practically out of school youth. We all know you only hand around Seoul High since you’re lonely as hell in that office of yours—“

            ‘—Hush, child.” Chanyeol says as he places a finger on Kris’ mouth as he stands up, straightening his blazer. “This grown up has places to go.”

            Chanyeol takes his leave as the rest of the table watched him go. “Kris was right—and Chanyeol doesn’t like it when the kids are right.” Minseok says mockingly as he flips to the next page of the magazine. “No wonder he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

            “Okay, you really have to tell me sooner or later.” Kyungsoo says as he catches up to Baekhyun, who was carrying a bunch of books back to his Chemistry class.

            “Tell you what?” Baekhyun says as he takes a sharp turn into the doorway, which Kyungsoo slightly misses. “I have nothing—“ Baekhyun heaves as his arms lift off just right above the marble table, lugging the thick textbooks unto the table “—to tell you.”

            Kyungsoo is still looking at Baekhyun in the you know I’m seriously not going to play your little games way. “I know you—you do crazy because your brain is far too complex for any of us here to understand—let alone anyone at Seoul High. You went over there, didn’t you?”

            Baekhyun shrugged, placing his hands back on his hips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            Kyungsoo remains quiet, observing the pile of books on the counter top. “Instant explosives—are you serious?” Kyungsoo says as he picks up one of the books, trying not to claw Baekhyun’s hair out. “You really do plan on killing him, aren’t you?”

            Baekhyun shrugs again, taking the book out of Kuyngsoo’s hand. “I know Chemistry is your favorite subject but go on, child, your hyung-slash-handsome-oppa has work to attend to.” He says as he moves Kyungsoo out of the classroom, excited to get to work.

            Chanyeol finds himself sitting back in his leather office chair, his suit rubbing against the fabric as he swiveled in quick circles. He didn’t really do much at the hotel—he only sat there everyday and yeah, he had to admit, Seoul High was the closest place he referred to the place where he had friends.

            He leans his cheek against his knuckle and closing his eyes, slowly recalls the prank pulled at his precious locker.

            The more he remembers, the angrier he got.

            “Damn it—I can’t believe someone fooled me!” He hisses out, his elbows fully resting on the table. “I’m going to find out who that little is and I’m going to end him—with my own hands.”

            He’s laughing now, laughing at how incredibly awesome his revenge would be, and how excited he was to prepare.

            He is interrupted from his thoughts when he hears the small dog barking ringtone fill the dusty room.

            Do Kyungsoo: Hey Yeol, did anything happen to Kris?

            Chanyeol raises an eyebrow, a bit mad that Kyungsoo texted to inquire about Kris, and not him.

            No, not rly. He’s still a big monkey ball.”

            Chanyeol is proud of the little insult, and waits smugly for Kyungsoo to either laugh or call him smarter than any student from Seoul U.

            Since, you know, Chanyeol liked Kyungsoo.

            Do Kyungsoo: okay thanks

            Chanyeol is jutting out his lips in defeat, obviously noting the monotonous voice within the text. But the usual ok was now a full blown okay, so that was going somewhere… right?

            Baekhyun found himself on the same campus he was at just yesterday, getting ready for phase two. There were three phases to his plan—to make Kris into a big stinky ball of clashing colors, to somehow glue him to the front bench at Seoul High, , and to finally give Kris the belabor of his life.

            “Phase two, commence.” He says to himself, sprinting into the gym. Kris schedule, as Baekhyun had previously memorized it, states that he has PE at this specific time. He also uses shower number 3 the most, and everyone practically stays away from that stall because it’s the stall that that famous clique in Seoul High uses.

            Baekhyun is hovering right above the male showers, his eyes closed since no way in hell does he want to see Kyungsoo’s disgusting ex-boyfriend .

            What he wants is for his entire school to see Kyungsoo’s disgusting ex-boyfriend .

            He had prepared for this so well that he sighs at his brilliance. Having a big brain may be hard, but it’s the best served dish he’ll ever receive.

            “Step one of phase two—set bees loose in shower number 3.”

            Chanyeol is sweaty, and he hates being sweaty. He hates anyone who points out he’s sweaty, and would much like for it that sweat disappear from the world.

            “You do know that you’ll shrivel up like an old prune if you don’t sweat when you’re older.” Jongin says as he shoots another three-pointer from the middle of the court, to which Chanyeol doesn’t see the attractiveness.

            “Yeah, whatever. I’m going to shower.” He says as he looks at the time. “I have to get to work.”

            “You don’t even have to go to school anymore—you know that.”

            Chanyeol only waves his hand from behind him, entering the bathroom silently.

            He starts to strip, and feels the cold air of the empty shower hit him hard. Sweating was horrid, and the feeling of cold air hitting his sweat-drenched body was another thing.

            He walks by each shower, taking the 3^rd shower stall as it was the cleanest. Only Kris uses it, and Minseok, Yixing and Jongin seemed to also have claimed territory.

            He turns the nob and starts to fall deep into the trance of the hot water. His cold skin finally cools down after a long 2 hours of hell—and he wonders really, why does he even bother with PE?

            Kris wasn’t anywhere to be seen today—cutting another day to spend fondling a bunch of men, and or, women.

            After a few minutes in the shower, Chanyeol feels an uncomfortable sting in his right thigh.

            He reaches out to where the pain was hailing, and felt it literally spread.

            “.” He says, as if his leg started to get paralyzed. He quickly turns off the shower and the silence doesn’t pursue. Instead, he’s greeted with the sound of… buzzing.

            In horror, he looks up, his eyes widening.

            In seconds, he makes a run for it.

            Baekhyun feels triumphant as the well planned out prank commences, watching as the man storms out of the gym washrooms and out into the exposed open—completely .

            Baekhyun follow the event, watching as the people within the vicinity are either whipping out their phones to take a video of the very panicky Kris Wu, who was slowly making his way towards Seoul High’s main entrance.

            Baekhyun had earlier played music that could be used to control the bees—so that the insects would do his bidding.

            The bench was the final spot, covered in adhesive that would allow anything to stick to it on immediate contact.

            This was it.

            This was the day where Baekhyun, having gathered the courage, would give the final punch towards his best friend’s oppressor.

            Because really, mess with any Seoul U student, and you get the Seoul U student council president on your things to be scared of list.

            Chanyeol is sprinting for his life. He doesn’t care about being , or that the entire school is watching him make his way through each of them, in order to rid himself of the bees.

            These bees were tough as diamond—they had their eyes set on Chanyeol.

            When Chanyeol reaches the school entrance, the bees suddenly started to dispense. He got a bit a few times, but to his relief, the bees had finally backed off.

            Just then, he feels the weight of his legs takes its toll, and the fact that he’s isn’t really going well for him.

            But whatever, if anyone saw him, they’d realize how much of an Adonis he was.

            He takes a seat on the bench for a few seconds, and promises himself he’d retreat back into the gym to put on his clothes soon enough.

            Only when he’s about to get up does he realize that he’s stuck.

            Great.

            -, exhausted and pathetic for the entire school to see.

            Grand Hotel’s president should be better than this.