[A/N: it seems that aff glitched on my ipad last night when I turned it off and messed up this chapter... sorry about that ; - ; thanks for those who pointed it out <3]

Baekhyun woke up hours later, his eyes groggily coming into focus as his vision down casts to his feet. He sees a very familiar set of shoes that he kept at the back of his shoe rack, as he found them incredibly hideous (more importantly, a gift from Oh Sehun). 

            “Sneakers—don’t you have any?” Sehun would snootily remark, his nose high up in the air. Hearing that Oh Sehun was to take over his immediate position after Baekhyun’s expulsion—well, lets just say that this Vice President wasn’t entirely the office favorite.

            Baekhyun shakes out of it as he feels as if his entire environment is rumbling—but more so the fact that he wasn’t wearing any of his very spectacular blazers. His hands immediately find their way to the ends of the clothes he was wearing—a baseball jacket that had the dreadful shade of maroon, and a white shirt that was far too plain for Baekhyun’s taste. He feels the constriction of the dark skinny jeans, his right eye twitching.

            He immediately lifts his head, turning to his side to meet the number one person he did not want to see.

            “Excuse me… Park Chanyeol…” Baekhyun said with a sarcastic smile, his foot kicking into the taller man’s shin. “Park—Park Chanyeol!”

            The man lifts his head up from his slumber, drool slightly dripping out of his mouth. He looks around and blinks a few times to absorb his environment, and immediately turns his gaze to the boy who was still kicking his leg.

            “Yes?” He says with a smile as he remembers, his arms folding over his chest. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Byun Baekhyun?”

            Baekhyun snarls, baring his teeth. “You punk—where the hell am I?!”

            Chanyeol gives him a shrug and a grin. “You’re on the stairway to heaven, my friend.”

            Baekhyun squints, as if Chanyeol was crazy. “Are you stupid?”

            “Oh, the princess is awake.” Jongin says with a grin, his forearm leaning against the top of Chanyeol‘s chair. “Welcome to the stairway to heaven—“

            Baekhyun gives him a baffled look, casting his gaze back down to Chanyeol. The tall man shrugs again, the same grin plastered on his face.

            “I can imagine how confused you are—it’s alright.” Jongin says with a grin as he takes the seat across Baekhyun. “Everyone has their firsts—“ He says as he lifts up his index finger to point at Baekhyun. “This is yours.”

            Baekhyun is confused, his head is in a blur and all at one, he’s observing his environment. “…Airplane?”

            “Correct!” Jongin shouts, leaning back into the chair. Chanyeol rolls his eyes, pulling down the facemask he had retrieved from the pockets beside him. “You’re on a plane. Now, Mr. Byun Baekhyun, what do you know about the sunny city of Los Angeles?”

            “Los Angeles… 34°03' North Latitude, 118°15' West Longitude… Current time, 4:05 PM PDT…” Baekhyun feels his head swirl with words as he tried to come up with coherent sentences, his hand catching the tips of his forehead.

            “Oh—it’s fine, it’s fine.” Jongin says as he notices Baekhyun sway, his hand slightly extending out. “We have to thank a very special giant for that head ache of yours—“

            “—Hey! Don’t blame me. He was fiddling around to much—and the wall was in a way, not like I could calculate distance on the spot or anything—“

            “—Okay, okay, enough of that.” Jongin says with a sigh, turning back to Baekhyun. “What I’m saying is, Baekhyun, we’re heading to Los Angeles.”

            “Cali—California?” Baekhyun says, his mouth dropping a bit. “Are you serious? Because please don’t tell me your serious. In fact, please tell me your turning his plane around to head back unto dry Seoul land—“

            “—Sorry.” Luhan says in English, peering from his seat beside Chanyeol across the aisle. “We’re almost there. You were out for a day.”

            “Are you serious? How could anyone in the airport have allowed an unconscious man to get on a plane—unconscious?!”

            “Airport? Honey—we have our own private plane. We don’t need any wimpy airports. I lost the best and had to use mine.” Luhan says with an exhausted smile, eyeing Yixing as he continued to play with the foot rest level on his arm rest.

            “You guys—“ Baekhyun says as he fumbles with his seatbelt, trying to unlock it. Everyone follows his movements, not daring to come near. When Baekhyun manages to unbuckle his seat belt, Chanyeol instinctively reaches over to buckle it back in. As he pulls back, he feels Baekhyun's nose lightly brush his cheek. As he returns to lean on his seat, he clears his throat.

             "Safety first." Chanyeol remarks, clearing the stiffness in his body. 

         "Are you ting me? I'm literally the only one wearing a seatbelt right now." Baekhyun remarks as he sees Yixing and Minsoeok sprawled on the floor with a board game in between them. "I have come to a verdict: you are all insane."

              "Yep, insane was an understatement."

             Baekhyun finds himself walking through L.A.X., his head in a blur as a flurry of reporters greet them. Camera flashes break through his every being, and he feels as if he's the only lost lamb in the sea of flashes. The boys seemed so accustomed to the flashes, swaying them off as if they go through this everyday.

            "Who told the press we were arriving?" Luhan asks, a bit exasperated. He turns to glance over to Baekhyun, who is giving everyone a lost, pleading look. 

            "Word from Seoul High must've spread as soon as we gave in the application. Damn rats." Chanyeol hisses, keeping his smile intact. Baekhyun flows through the stream of screaming foreign girls, all giving the boys looks that Baekhyun couldn't comprehend. He then feels a strong arm snake itself around his shoulders, looking up to see Jongin pulling him along.

            "Thanks... Sorry." Baekhyun mumbles as he follows Jongin with the others. Chanyeol gives Jongin a look, who shrugs it off as they make it into the car.

            "Santa Monica... I missed you." Yixing says as he rubs his cheeks against the window that exposes the view of the entire sandy beach, bright enough for Baekhyun to have to squint.

             "It's brighter than Baekhyun's brain out there." Minseok says with a whistle, making Baekhyun question if that was a compliment or not. "Who wants to go out to the beach first? I can rent out the area." Luhan asks out loud, lugging Chanyeol's bag unto one of the unsuspecting tables. Chanyeol has taken refuge into one of the beds, sinking into the covers as he drifts off to sleep.

            "I can't believe they rebooked us for a smaller suite." Jongin sighs as he takes the seat Baekhyun, who had already kicked off the dreadful white sneakers unto the carpeted floor. "We'll have to share a room for the night."

             "That's fine—isn't that what poor people do? They have to share rooms, right." Yixing asks genuinely, his innocent face peering over to Baekhyun. "Did you ever share your room? Like you're all squished together... Like... Sushi. I want sushi."

               Baekhyun tries to lean away from Yixing, who was either too innocent or too open for comfort. He ruffles his hair, going through the bag he had placed on his lap. His eyes widen when he feels that the bag isn't as heavy as it should be.

              "Where are my blazers?! Polo shirts?! Slacks?!" Baekhyun shouts as a certain amount of plain colored shorts and a few pairs of pants fell out of the bag, thumping unto the floor in a mess.

              "Hey! Those are designer—Stop that!" Minseok shouts as he lunges to grab all the clothes from the floor, folding them neatly to return to Baekhyun's bag. "We didn't bring any of your gnarly clothes, I asked some sponsors to sponsor your clothing for the week—take extra care of them, they're worth more than your life."

              Baekhyun's shoulders slump down to his back, sighing, he retreats into the bed. These guys were crazy--they kidnapped him and stripped him of what was left of his dignity.

              Chanyeol wakes up to an empty room, and to a very serene looking Baekhyun. His hear skips a beat, but he immediately shakes it off as he lugs himself out of the bed. He trudges towards the bathroom, grabbing a specific set of clothes from his bag. 

            “Finally, time for my self.” He says with a sigh as he shrugs off the white polo and black slacks, immediately replacing it with a worn out shirt and an equally battered piece of bottoms. He ruffles his hair a bit in the mirror, smiling when he sees himself messy as fit.

            With a smile, he grabs the far from repair white converse and a torn up straw hat in his bag, slugging them unto his feet as he wriggles free from the suffocating hotel room.

            Chanyeol has a lot of secrets, he doesn’t tell people where he slips off during breaks in school. He doesn’t tell anyone why he has a set of clothes that seemed far from what a wealthy person like him should be wearing. He especially doesn’t tell anyone why and what he does.

            Being rich—Chanyeol found it tasteless. He realizes a lot of things that money isn’t as exciting as it used to be. So when he turned 13, he had conducted an self proclaimed genius at of deviance.

            Smiling, he greets the streets of Los Angeles with a smile as he lugs himself against the pavement, safely seated in between sidewalks. He tips his hat down just enough to hide his face, flimsily unfolding a tattered blanket he had tagged along the way. He wraps himself as the 4 pm temperature started to sink into his skin like a sting.

            Chanyeol has done a lot of things in his life—but pretending to be a poor man in a sea of people was his best mark.

            Baekhyun wakes up hours later, groggily lifting himself out of the bed. He stares at the clock on the bedside table, green neon lights blinking 5:03 pm. He tips his head to the side and yawns, balancing his weight on his right arm. He lugs his legs off to the side of the bed, realizing that no one in the room’s presence.

            He takes a few steps to the bathroom, staring at his physique in the mirror. His face twists into a distorted face when he realizes that the clothes he was wearing wasn’t something found exactly attractive.

            He stocks towards his bag, checking if there was anything (in his description) decent to wear, and sighs when he found that the clothes he was wearing was the closest one. He decides against changing, and wills himself to take a walk.

            “What am I doing here—“ Baekhyun says with a sigh, hands buried deep in his pockets. He decided against walking along the beach, since the group he was trying his best to avoid would most probably be drowning to their hearts content. He steers clear and swerves towards the city, his eyes constantly drafting through the sea of cars, people and water.

            He sharpens his eyes and looks at the over flowing pier, sighing as he felt the weight of the amount of people stocking through the wooden infrastructure. He makes his way through the streets as the torrent of people brushed against him, the hat and sunglasses he had generously taken from Minseok’s description of fashionable swinging through his thin frame.

            When he finally reaches a block with a few people, he sighs. He looks around wondering what on earth he should be doing. He moves forward, only to trip over a set of extended legs.

            He hisses, quickly turning his head towards the figure that had caused his fall. His anger immediately dissolves as a figure, barely seen, draped in tattered cloth hums slow breaths from under. He couldn’t get mad at someone in his state, and sighs.

            He wonders if the stranger is going to mind if he takes the empty area beside him, as he had nothing better to do. He places himself a good distance from the stranger, legs folding against his chest.

            “Hello.” Baekhyun says in english after a while, noticing as the figure beside him squirms. He smiles, realizing that this was the man’s way of saying that he was listening.

            “Do you have time? Am I bothering you?”

            The figure’s straw hat sways from side to side, indicating disagreement. Baekhyun’s smile widens again, his hands digging into his shoes. He puffs his cheeks at the bad looking pair of sneakers, hating the idea that it was Oh Sehun who had given it to him.

            “You know, these shoes came from someone I really hate.” Baekhyun says mindlessly, eyes plastered unto his feet. “He was my vice president back in my old school. He’s really stuck up, and for some reason—his grade point average was just 0.001 lesser than mine. It felt like he was always taunting me.”

            Baekhyun turns his head to the side, the figure immediately swinging to the other direction as he avoids eye contact. “I was the only one in school who had a perfect grade point average—a 4.0. He, on the other hand, was the only one with a 3.999.” Baekhyun hisses in his sleeve, remembering the idea.

            “Do you think he just dumbed down his grade point average to annoy me? It was disturbing. Well… He never bragged either. And—he’s not that bad of a guy…” Baekhyun wanders through his thoughts, trying to understand why he hated Oh Sehun so much.

            “I honestly… don’t know why I hate him. Well… It’s probably because… he’s so perfect.”

            Baekhyun dips his head down to his knees, sighing into the area in between them. “I’m stupid—I actually hate someone because he’s perfect.”

            Baekhyun feels himself get lost in his thoughts, his head unconsciously swinging to the side to look at the man beside him. “Well, I don’t really see him around anymore, since I moved to another school.”

            “This school has an equal translation of the guy who gave me these shoes. Minus the big brain, they’re pretty much alike. Stuck up and taunting.”

            “They’re around the same height… But look completely different.” Baekhyun hums, the figure beside him shifting from side to side. “VP is… handsome. The other guy’s… well, he’s better looking, I guess.”

            The figure stops shifting, freezing in his stance.

            “He’s more annoying though. And mean.” Baekhyun thins his lips, remembering images of Chanyeol in his mind. “He hasn’t been nice to me at all ever since I enrolled. I kept him for a night in my room since he was drunk as hell, and all I got was a thaaaanks and a scowl.”

 Baekhyun shuts his mouth as he feels the uncomfortable atmosphere by the man beside him, lightly swinging his head to his side. “How are you today, Mr.?”

            The figure reacts by shaking his head up and down, a gesture Baekhyun assumes as an okay. He nods in recognition, turning his attention back unto the street. “Have you had any lunch? I can treat you for listening to me.”

            The man shakes his head, a sign of disapproval. “Are you sure? You must be hungry.”

            The figure shakes his head again, his hand swinging from under the blanket. Baekhyun nods, realizing that maybe he had intruded. “Thank you for listening. If I see you again, you have to let me treat you.”

            The figure nods, and Baekhyun smiles.

            “See you around, Mr.”

            Chanyeol resurfaces minutes after he hears Baekhyun’s footsteps drown in the bustle of the cars on the street, taking a big dip of the air. Sweat trickles down his temples, remembering that the blanket was a blanket for a reason.

            Had he realized that it was Baekhyun rounding up on the corner a block away, quickly taking refuge into his blanket and straw hat. The heat had gotten to him, and all he wanted was for Baekhyun to disappear.

            As he settles for air, a wide, goofy grin spreads unto his mouth.

            “He called me better looking.” He says with a broken laugh, far too awkward and ecstatic for comfort. He doesn’t understand why it made him so happy, but his insides felt like bubbles floating all the way up to his brain.

            “He also called me mean.” His smile starts to fade, turning into a frown. Then he remembers everything else Baekhyun said, leaving his face to his traditional scowl.

            “Good thing I read up on English all this time.” He says with a sigh as he takes off his hat, ruffling his hair from the sweat. His scowl disappears, a plotting smile on his face.

            “Byun Baekhyun… My revenge still isn’t complete.” He says as he turns his gaze towards the way Baekhyun disappeared to. He smiles even more, realizing his intentions. “Byun Baekhyun finds me handsome—and I’m still plotting the perfect prank to ruin his life, as he had ruined mine.”

            “This is perfect—all according the plan.” He says with a laugh, a mixture of awkward twitching and evil cackling filling the streets of Santa Monica, with a few very concerned and fearful glances floating in the air.

            Jongin combs his hair back with his hand, the sweat dripping off from his bangs slithering down his nose. He and Yixing wait for Luhan and Minseok to wind up around the corner, his lips pouting at how slow the other two were.

            “Lu, you’re the only one with a key, hurry up.” Jongin slurs in english, his raspy voice low and commanding. Luhan rolls his eyes, card key in hand.

            “You know, that voice only works on women and gay men.” Luhan says with a laugh, his beach bag lightly floating on his shoulder. Jongin frowns even more, clutching the water bottle in his hand tighter. “But Luhan, you are gay.”

            “Yeah, but not for you.”

            A small ohhhhhh escapes Yixing and Minseok’s lips, laughing into their hands as the look on Jongin’s face turns into a scowl. Luhan gives him a motherly smile, taking the keycard to his face. “Here we are, your king highness of the kingdom of sultry, low voices that Luhan is most definitely gay for.”

            Yixing and Minseok trail after them with chuckles drowning in their palms, Jongin cutting of the rest of the line. They all lug their bags unto tables, all looking around or turning to their handphones.

            “Chanyeol? Baekhyun?” Luhan calls out, looking towards the king bed in the middle of the room. He upturns the covers, face curious as he sees Baekhyun rolled to his side, fetal position.

            “Baekhyun’s here, but where’s Yeol?” Luhan says as he looks to his wristwatch, staring at the time. “It’s nearly midnight.”

            Jongin just shrugs his shoulders, following into the bed beside Baekhyun. He stares at Baekhyun before closing his eyes, a smile on his face.

            “He’ll find his way back, Chanyeol isn’t a kid.” Minseok fatherly says, placing a calm hand on Luhan’s shoulder. “Our children always find their way home—except Yixing.”

            Yixing looks up at the mentioning of his name, blinking in an innocent way. Minseok and Luhan look down in slight pity, recalling past events of Yixing’s accidents. “That’s why we always pay extra attention to him.”

            Luhan nods, shrugging off the worry. “Yeah, okay. He’ll get home on his own—I got it.” Luhan says as he rubs his shoulders with a palm, stocking towards his bag. He takes out his phone, opening the message thread with Chanyeol’s name on it.

            He blurrily types along the words we’re back, call my phone when you’re here—you don’t have a key. He looks at the message he sent again and shakes his head, opting to send another. On second thought, call Minseok’s phone, he’s probably the only one who wakes up to his phone. Or Jongin. Or Baekhyun, if you have his phone number. Just not me. And not Yixing—please not Yixing.

            Luhan nods to his phone, placing it back on the table. “I’m heading off.”

            Minseok nods to the boy, watching him slip into the same bed, placing himself comfily beside Baekhyun. He squeezes under the covers and nods off to sleep.

            Minseok turns his gaze towards Yixing, who was holding unto a console. His lips thin, silently stocking towards the couch Yixing had placed himself in. He takes the console and drags Yixing by the collar, to which Yixing doesn’t protest.

            “You, sleep. If you play now—you’re never going to sleep.”

            Yixing nods as he places himself beside Luhan, dipping his head into the pillow.

            Minseok peers from over them, nodding as if a father proud that his entire family is safe, because of his manly-man-ness. He smiles and pads towards the couch that Yixing was recently sitting on, placing a pillow at the edge. He takes the spare blanket and drapes it over him, leaving the last spot on the bed for Chanyeol.

            Chanyeol has never been in so much .

            He’s slow to realize that the last time he did this abroad, he was also in deep .

            Now here he is again freezing against the street’s harsh cold. He’s treading through the almost empty sidewalks, his arms clutching his arms. He had been mugged, for the second time abroad, and was walking through the streets in nothing but the clothes on his back.

            He had opted not to bring a wallet, but fought against it and slipped it in his back pocket. He’s never really brought money whenever he did this, but then feels the utter regret when the bruises on his face darken.

            He sighs, lips swollen as he sees the hotel come into view.

            He tries to slip through the revolving doors, but is immediately stopped by a man in a green blazer type coat and khaki pants.

            “Sorry sir, but may I ask what your business is here with us tonight?”

            Chanyeol bares his teeth, but immediately shuts his lips as he realizes his current image. Tattered clothes, old shoes, a busted lip and hair that seemed unwashed for days, it wasn’t entirely 5-star hotel accommodating .

            He clears his throat, backing up from the man. “I’m checked into this hotel. I only look this way due to personal reasons, don’t jump into conclusions.”

            “I need identification, sir.” The man says with a fake smile, his hand extended out. “As soon as I get your I.D., I’ll ring it up to the front desk and clear any misunderstanding.”

            Chanyeol reaches out for his back pocket, his face twisting into anguish as he realizes that he got mugged. “You see… I got mugged back there and—“

            “—Sorry sir, I need identification, and I will immediately let you in.”

            Chanyeol sighs, backing up from the man. “No need.” He says back in korean with a scowl, turning his back from the entrance and back into the darkness.

            Baekhyun wakes up to Jongin’s face slightly a few inches away from his, making him jolt upwards. He clutches his heart at the proximity and surveys his surroundings. Jongin still has an arm draped around Baekhyun’s waist, and he feels Luhan’s foot digging into his shins. To Luhan’s side was Yixing, well, Yixing’s legs, the rest of his body dangling from the bed.

            He sighs and realizes where he was, silently discarding Jongin’s arm from his waist. He slips from the bed and throws on a coat, willing himself to the balcony.

            He lets a whip of the salt water hit him in the face, catching the wind with his skin. His toes jump from side to side as he realized how much he underestimated the cold, allowing his glance to fall to the ground. He was so high up that the figures seemed like ants, but not as much as it would look like from a plane.

            He squints slightly as the sunrise’s light casts itself from the beach, spilling into the streets and right below their hotel. He stares at the ground, his chin resting on his arms.

            He sees a familiar straw hat floating amongst the crowds, his curiosity overflowing. The man had moved to a closer proximity, and he wonders if the man was following him around. Not that he was scared—he was intrigued.

            He hums to himself, his eyes following the straw hat as it disappears into the connecting street.

            He glances towards the sunrise, taking in every inch of the light as he lets out a loud sigh. “This…” He says in his morning voice. “This is my life now.”

            He rests his cheek to his forearms, letting his coat shrug over him as he breathes in the air for another heavy breath.