Now; baekyeol (2/5)

[aprilclash]

<< part 1

Six years before now

People often asked themselves what brought them together. They had a common fondness for games and pranks, sure, but their personalities couldn't have been more different. Chanyeol either didn't understand what was that brought them together, he just remembered seeing Baekhyun and immediately taking a liking to him.

For two years and a half, they were the mystery of their little school.

Baekhyun, the kid with the scholarships who went through the hardship to work and take very good grades to pay for his own education, since his parents couldn't afford to pay for another school fee. When the school offered him the possibility to visit Seoul to retrieve the honor tag of best student of their prefecture the he laughed it off, like always. He couldn't skip work, not either for a week, if he really wanted to keep studying. And he wanted it so much. He loved school, and choir, and Chanyeol, and he didn't want to lose everything. Not yet.

Chanyeol, on the other hand, was the laziest and messiest person ever. He didn't study, nor he did anything else than playing halo and basket. He also received a lot of invitations to parties and he had this nasty habit to get wasted the night before a test, only to get reprimanded by teachers, his parents, and Baekhyun, for not even trying. He didn't need to try very hard since everyone else loved him anyway for his infectious smile and captivating manners. In the end there was always someone, be it his best friend, his older sister, the pigtails girl from his Friday art class who blushed like mad every time he asked her if she needed a nude model, ready to get him out of his messes.

It was very difficult for them even to meet up.

They used to make plans in advance, for Baekhyun to visit Chanyeol's home after he finished with his work at the market, but work often piled up and in the end Chanyeol always fell asleep. He usually woke up the mornings after to a little stubborn lump plastered on his side, hunkered in himself as if he wanted to take as little space as possible in a single bed that was too small even for Chanyeol himself. It was a tight fit and they inevitably ended up with back pains, but there wasn't anything Chanyeol would have traded those little morning moments for.

It was, if anything, the only time he got to spend with Baekhyun whereas his friend was not constantly checking if it was already the time to run away. Therefore he postponed the alarm and nuzzled Baekhyun until the other boy made little appreciation noises, softly hums who reminded him of a little cute puppy.

If they had school afterwards, they ended up being late. Baekhyun constantly complained that he was going to get detention and lose the scholarship, and it would all be Chanyeol's fault, and even though they both knew the teachers were smitten with him and they would be more than ready to close an eyes, or even both if it was him, he would be grumpy and prissy at least until lunch time. When people saw them rushing for the last bell, it was an unspoken thought that it was Chanyeol's doing, and the principal appreciated the fact that their best student managed where everyone else had failed, in forcing Chanyeol to at least try to get in school on time. And sometimes to go to school, period.

Other times they didn't have school, and Chanyeol hid Baekhyun's books in his dirty laundry box, always empty since his dirty clothes usually travelled around the room like lost vessels in a sea of trash, and despite knowing it too well Baekhyun played along and pretended to be desperate.

Chanyeol's mom used to leave them pancakes on the kitchen table, always a little too eager to spoil Baekhyun, especially after she went to the hairdresser and Mrs Choi told her that she heard the Byuns arguing again the previous night, they should arrest him before he kills her, and the poor kid. The few times Baekhyun had already gone home when she returned from her groceries' trip, she sulked like a child.

Even Yura was ecstatic to have him for dinner, when she was home from college. She waited for the rare moments in which Chanyeol left him alone to go to the bathroom, unofficially he just needed a smoke, dumb little brother is gonna have his lungs burnt if he keeps on with this unhealthy habit, and he even thinks I don't know anything, to sneak into his room and squeal his cute and witty best friend. Hearing her stupid brother's moan of utter distaste every time he entered the room, after a proper cologne shower to cover the smell of tobacco, above suspicion Yeol, really, to find her sister practically ambushing Baekhyun, was always a bonus.

“He's not even breathing, let him go!”

“Lemme, you have him all for yourself, like, forever.”

“Because he's my best friend, not yours.”

“Get lost!”

“You get lost!”

Baekhyun listened watched them bicker with the shadow of a smile on his pale lips, but his mind wandered towards his own brother, and the time they didn't get to spend together anymore.

Yura was always fast to catch on his moods. “Have you heard from him?” They had been partners for a math project, she and Baekbom, a fleeting, meaningless friendship that could have developed into something more profound hadn't he been too busy trying to find a way out of his own life.

“He calls, sometimes.”
And it was sad, very sad, but Baekhyun couldn't despise his brother for grabbing the first opportunity to ran away. He would have done the same, probably. But he couldn't, and he was alone.
Yura hugged him, Chanyeol cried in disdain. Maybe not so alone.

Six months before now

Putting eyeliner on was, for Baekhyun, the most powerful witchcraft. It never failed to amaze him how a dash of dark cream from that shiny little jar was able to turn him, in the eyes of everyone else, into a completely different person.

From the irrelevant, almost invisible kid who struggles with his English book on the bus, the one who's usually skipped on by people the same moment they see him, to the gorgeous boy whose sharp eyes and irreverent face have been the ruin of a lot of customers of the club. People who drowned in the temptation of his hips one time too many, filling the invoices of the brothel with numbers that sported too many zeroes for them to actually be able to afford it. Dare no one say that Lu's whores are cheap bitches.

Slaves who created new slaves, a favour for another favour, and then another, another, another. People who found themselves bound to the system without even knowing how, the head of the family standing at the centre of the web like a giant puppeteer leading a city of lost souls.

And how stung the bite in Baekhyun's heart when he realized that Chanyeol was the same at them, the same as him. Baited and caught in the middle of the game.

For me. For the illusion of a night in pale foundation and black smokey eyes. You wash the make up and what remains?

As for him, when he looked at his dolled up reflection in the mirror, he could only see the slightest difference. The jet-black line wasn't enough to cover the eyes of a pathetic and weak person, the sort of person he was before getting recruited by the house, the same person he still was, no matter how strong and self-confident the eyeliner made him look.

Refining the thick stroke, he made sure to smudge it a little at the edges to give his face that roughed up look his patrons seemed to like that much. He grabbed a coat and rushed to the club, his heart beating a thousand miles per hour.

Lu Han had called him countless times. To make sure he was all right. To tell him that Chanyeol still hanged up at the club, waiting, hoping to talk. That the manager had asked about him, why wasn't he coming. He expected a few threats at his return, maybe even a bit of beating. His clients surely didn't mind when he was a little messier than usual.

Suho had called too. He gave him a list of names, useful contacts, he had said. “If they call you go, no matter what. You go and you hope one of them takes a liking to you, and maybe if you play your cards well you'll even be able to leave the club.”

It was dangerous, thought Baekhyun, because one thing was being an object, one other thing was being an object with an exclusive owner. The pro of being everyone's toy was that at the end of the night he could still indulge in the delusion to belong only to himself, while this...

“You already belong to someone else,” reminded him Xiao Han, “the only difference is that you'll only have to sell the ass to one person. Trust me, old rich guys pays a lot and get affectionate easily. You'll even grow to like it.”

In his head, Baekhyun had always nurtured the pale gossamer thin hope that one day he would've made out of this life.

No more thugs, no more bodies sliced in the backroom of the club when a "business meeting" went astray, the dancers politely waiting out of the room while the lower lackeys got rid of the body. One time they had him sitting on a chair still soggy with blood and the viscous liquid seeped through the fabric causing him to shiver, while they chuckled at his discomfort.

He was property of every single one of them that night, some first, some later, until the dawn. If he succeeded in finding himself a protector, a lover, more like a master, someone who was to fuck him permanently and exclusively, he would have to indulge the wishes of such men every night, for a long time.

And still. Chanyeol.

Chanyeol would have done everything in his power to stop him. Lucky him, the fool had to realize he wanted to help him just when Baekhyun was beyond protection. And trying to persuade Chanyeol into giving up was worse than beating a dead horse with a stick.

No, Baekhyun realized, this time I'll have to play foul. Just hope this won't get me a disqualification from the game.

The makeup was done.

Time to conquer the stage. You won't even know what's going to hit you.

Chanyeol froze at Baekhyun's sudden appearance. He promptly realized he still had no idea of what to tell him. During the endless days he had spent looking for him he was so concentrated in actually finding him that the next move didn't even appear to be a problem. If only Baekhyun wasn't walking right towards him, his sequined top catching the low lights and shining like true silver.

Baekhyun didn't stop to talk to him, nor he looked at his eyes, but he grabbed Chanyeol's hand to press something on his palm. An address and a key.

The club had already started to get packed, the show was about to start. Chanyeol could feel the clinking of the first glasses as they were filled with alcohol, even from the outside. The air was cold and harsh on his warm face. He recognized Xiao Han and Kai's opening number in the few notes that escaped from the door as they were opened by the bouncers to let other people in.

He called a taxi.

Baekhyun opened the door of his apartment, many hours later, to find a nervous Chanyeol sprawled on his sofa.

The scene brought back a stream of memories, his mind welcoming the way Chanyeol’s body had to struggle to find a place in Baekhyun’s little sofa, or the familiar clenching of his fingers around the pillow. He almost expected Chanyeol to jump him, asking his help to finish math’s homework for the next day.

Chanyeol tried. He tripped in the way, forgetting about the coffee table and almost killing them both. Baekhyun steadied him, his heart a little lighter now that he had established that carrying a gun hadn’t changed his clumsy friend that much.

The younger boy wanted to talk, obviously. He opened his mouth to start some blabbering, apologizes, promises, something, but Baekhyun shushed him with a pale finger on his mouth, making him gasp.

He knew he probably looked like a mess without make up on his face, the faint but perfectly clear trace of a bruise on his jaw where one of his former clients, the one who weren’t allowed to see him anymore for misbehaviour (even if you pay a lot, there’s a limit to how much you can ruin the merchandise) had tried to grab him in a little clash near the dressing rooms. He was still trashing and spitting when they threw him out, Jongdae fretting towards Baekhyun to cover the raw skin with foundation. It itched.

He had thought about staying a little later after the shower to did his make up again before he went home, to where he knew Chanyeol was waiting for him. In the end, he had decided not to do it. If he had to wear a mask, if he had to seduce his best friend, what better than not wearing any mask would have made Chanyeol any less suspicious?

Chanyeol didn’t seem to mind, if the sharp intake of breath against his hand was enough of an indication. Baekhyun traced the seam of his lips with the finger, enjoying their slight tremble and feeling only the faintest puff of breath against it, as if Chanyeol was afraid to breathe too loudly and somehow ruin the moment. He didn’t smile as he pressed into him, moving his hand from Chanyeol’s mouth to his face to finally curl it against his neck, using the leverage to tiptoe his way into an eager mouth.

Chanyeol moaned helplessly as Baekhyun backed him into the bed. His touch burned like fire on Baekhyun’s skin, and he could feel raw want in the way his hands grabbed frantic at everything they found in their way. Despite all the eagerness, all the hunger he couldn’t hide, now that he finally had a way, a legit way, to release all of the tension he’d been cumulating for years whenever he happened to think of his best friend, Chanyeol was still so damn unexperienced. Just pure instinct, but the clumsiness was still there, and Baekhyun could hear him cursing softly as his fingers got themselves caught in the buttons of Baekhyun’s jacket.

Baekhyun chuckled and removed Chanyeol’s hand form his body, trapping them in his grasp to rouse his attention and make him look at him. Chanyeol still looked like he wanted to talk, but at the same time, he wanted this, whatever they were doing, to go on. Baekhyun could already see the arousal in his eyes, glassy and wild and pleading, but for all the experience he had had with girls Chanyeol didn’t know what to do, and could only hope that Baekhyun would be kind enough to show him the way.

The temptation to just turn him around and fuck him, like one of the wet dreams that after so many time still woke him up at night and always left him raw and unsatisfied, was so good.

He’d let me, he thought, he’d trust me.

A sudden stream of guilt flooded his hearts for what he was going to do.

You’re not here for the happy ending Baekhyun. Remember why you’re here.

He wanted to save Chanyeol, wanted to send him away. He wanted Chanyeol, so much. And he wants me too, enough to step in this dingy world, enough to kill a man for me. For me.

The thought gave him the shivers. He wouldn’t bring Chanyeol down with him, not if he could help it.

Just for a little, he thought, until I find someone willing to take me home and free Chanyeol from the burden of my destiny.

Then he could finally disappear, in the depth of some rich foe’s bedchamber, chained to a life of nothingness, forever.

Chained to the memories of night like this, he thought, moving to straddle Chanyeol’s hips.

Chanyeol looked stunned, and lost. He looked at Baekhyun, touched his face, but his best friend of half a life looked almost like a stranger to him. He had seen him, dancing in the club, swaying his ass seductively, he had seen him cradled in the hands of strangers, but now that Baekhyun was on him he realized he had no idea. He hadn’t had any idea for a long time.

Baekhyun, had learnt, and in the hard way, that in his world the face made the man. And he didn’t have it. No one thought he had the face to be such a deluxe bitch. Not even Xiao Han, is supposedly best friend in this pit of hell, thought he could've make it. But he did it.

Where the others, people like Han, like Jongdae, like Qian, all they had to do was being themselves and they’d be surely able to find someone willing to take them to the privet, Baekhyun had to fight his way in the lower ranks. He knew he was not beautiful, nor particularly skilled, but if life had taught him something, it was how to pay attention. And he did, he studied his clients. He learned what he had to do in order to make them like him more.

There was something oddly fascinating in the way men, even the most powerful men, let their guards down during the little moments of intimacy. He paid attention to the little details, snatched away shreds of their secrets, became more aware of their own desires than they were themselves.
He became good at being what they wanted him to be, shy and demure, docile like a virgin doll or defiant and prissy, ready to be slammed against a wall and fucked raw.

They always came back.

Chanyeol didn’t know any of this. Maybe he could imagine, faintly, how many people had tasted the body currently straddling his hips, to turn the simple choir boy he once knew into this foxy witch with dark knowing eyes.

And Baekhyun didn’t even left him the time to wonder, closing on him, making him choke in the effort of trying to keep up with the warmth of the mouth closing on his erection.

Chanyeol cursed, and gasped, and flailed his hands uselessly until Baekhyun grabbed one of them to lead it on his head, nudging him to dictate the rhythm of the blowjob.

Their eyes met, and Chanyeol’s unfocused ones immediately shut close to deprive him of the filthy sight of Baekhyun on his knees, his mouth stretched open around his dick.

He was going to come, he thought, but Baekhyun surprised him closing a swift hand around his erection and keeping Chanyeol’s orgasm at bay until he whimpered.

“Look at me,” he said, and Chanyeol forced himself to turn his head and open his eyes, “I’ve always wanted to do this to you, Yeol.”

He stared, not daring to close his eyes anymore, as Baekhyun dipped his head to take him in his mouth again, and this time his hands tightened on Baekhyun’s hair, where he himself had put them. Chanyeol kept him there, thrusting his hips up and pushing Baekhyun’s head down as the wave of pleasure hit him like a bullet train, leaving him drained and weak.

His elbows gave up and he slumped on the bed, arms caught up uncomfortably under his body.

He could feel Baekhyun going to the bathroom to rinse his mouth, and he absently noticed that Baekhyun wasn’t choking, or coughing, he hadn’t even flinched when Chanyeol had come.

When Baekhyun came back and climbed on the bed, Chanyeol’s body was made of jelly. He felt boneless and sleepy. He still tried to reach for Baekhyun’s crotch in the dark, since Baekhyun still hadn’t come, but the other boy stopped him.

“Don’t,” whispered his voice, clear in the faint shadows.

“But I-”

“Please, Chanyeol.”

There was a crack of fragility in Baekhyun’s voice, and Chanyeol suddenly understood. Baekhyun had probably had more than one orgasm that night.

His limbs screamed at him when he forced his body to move, and Baekhyun squealed as Chanyeol collapsed on top of him, arms closing around his prone form.

“Are- Are you spooning me?”

Chanyeol just hugged him tighter, rearranging them so they were leaning on their sides. He pressed his chest on Baekhyun’s back and rested his head on his shoulder, Baekhyun’s soft hair tickling his faces. Baekhyun elbowed him in the stomach until Chanyeol got the hint, his muscles protesting once more as he struggled against the duvet and the sheets, finally managing to cover them both like he knew Baekhyun preferred when he slept.

Outside the window, behind thick blue curtains, the sun was rising on Seoul. Glimmers of pink and gold danced their way into the room, but Chanyeol forced the curtain closed and sneaked into the bed to cuddle Baekhyun again.

He could feel him slowly relaxing, until his breathing became more regular and heavy. In his arms, the Baekhyun he was holding was no different from the Baekhyun he had held for long nights when they were younger. Even the smell was the same. Chanyeol closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Baekhyun woke up in the afternoon to the sound of the door closing itself after Chanyeol. The other boy's scent still lingered, and if he closed his eyes, he could still feel the faintest ghost of his warmth where his arms had been holding him in their sleep.

There was a note on his drawer. The messy writing was undoubtedly Chanyeol's. He wanted to pick it up to read it but his head hurt, his arms hurt, his back hurt and it made it difficult to move around.

His heart hurt even more. There was something akin to regret and some sort of sick satisfaction in having finally succeeded in bedding Chanyeol properly. Well, not so properly.
Chanyeol hadn't insisted the night before, and if Baekhyun had thought that having his best friend know he was a whore, and almost being fucked by him for money like the whore he was, actually was the most humiliating thing in the world, he had to think it again. Not even being able to give himself to the only love of his life, because someone else had been taking everything from him thoroughly all night, was a whole new level of pathetic.

He shouldn't even had a chance with Chanyeol to begin with, Chanyeol who was so bright and trusting, but destiny seemed to be especially mocking lately, denying him even the tiniest crumbs of happiness he hadn't been shameful enough to stop himself from begging.

And the way Chanyeol had looked only a few hours before, so happy, so relieved. Baekhyun knew it would be a pity to break his heart, when the moment would come.

He needed a few months, now that he had been granted access to the third floor of the club, where only the most powerful and demanding clients were allowed to enter. A few months to find the most gullible of them, a difficult feat since you don’t go anywhere in a world that cruel being stupid and naïve, least of all in the VIP rooms of Lu’s brothel. But Baekhyun had trust in his abilities. After he had built himself a reputation out of nowhere when he entered the club, alone and unexperienced, finding himself a rich sugar daddy wouldn’t be such an impossible task.

He only feared the moment he’d have to tell Chanyeol to go away, I don’t need you anymore.

Baekhyun wondered, for a moment, if Chanyeol would ever be able to forgive him again. He was leading him into a lie of a relationship, just to make him close his eyes against the sad truth, and when he’d learn that truth, what could possibly become of him? He would be devastated, for sure.

But Chanyeol was strong, always had been despite the silly look, he trusted him to be able to pick up the pieces and go on with his life.

He hoped he could be as lucky to be able to say the same for himself.

Kris was unrelenting. Chanyeol was sure that any killer, even the mighty dragon, was allowed to make a few mistakes at the beginning of his criminal career.

“He was one of our allies. Do you know what could possibly happen if you'd happen to shoot one of ours?”
Chanyeol didn't dare answer the question. Kris was fuming, better let him alone to cool up a little, answering his own rethorical questions.

“In the best case Baekhyun would find your empty head stuck in his mailbox.”

“What about the worst case?” muttered Chanyeol.

Kris snapped. “We lose an ally, we lose money, we lose respect and credibility in the eyes of the entire underground crime world, and we lose two killer and a whore, because the master will have the three of us killed before you can even think to say oops.”

Such a drama queen, thought Chanyeol, he doubted all of this mess could happen just for him accidentally shooting the wrong dealer. Their faces were all the same, how did other people distinguish them? Besides, he bet all of them cheated on their money records, not only his current target, so one more or less, what difference could it make?

He fought to keep the nausea at bay and keep a blank face. If he thought of them as cruel criminals, dealing with them wasn't so bad. Until he remembered that he was one of them now.

Kris looked like he wanted to smack him. And then shoot him. Multiple times. It was already becoming a pattern.

Feign interest, Chanyeol. He nodded eagerly at Kris’ inquiring face.

“I asked you if you're always this dense, are you even listening to me Park? Do you think this is a game? Think about Baekhyun.”

There was something actually bothering Chanyeol, an itch he couldn't chase away. He leaned into the older man, “Hey, Kris, how do you know Baekhyun?”

The other killer was a little taken aback at the sudden, come out of nowhere question. When he answered, it was more guarded than challenging. “How do you think I've known him?”

Chanyeol paled.

“What did you honestly think, Chanyeol? Almost everyone who works with the Lus and get paid enough can tell you the same thing. He's pretty famous, and he opened his legs for a lot of people.” Kris knew he sounded exasperated, and he was also a little too loud for that time and place, but he couldn’t care less. It was time Chanyeol finally caught on with reality. “He’s a whore, and I know him well because I fucked him, countless times.”

The last part was a lie, he had been with Baekhyun only for a couple of nights, but he guessed he couldn’t hurt to inflate the truth a little. Chanyeol had to open his eyes, if he really wanted to survive and help Baekhyun.

Chanyeol didn't answer, his mouth set in a tight line. When he did talk it was barely a whisper. “Why are you telling me these things?”

Kris looked like he didn't know himself. To tell the truth, he had nothing to gain from helping Chanyeol.
He sighed, passing his hand between his perfectly slicked back hairs. A strand fell loose with the action. It made him look younger, and tired. “Maybe I have a soft spot for hopeless cases, I don't know.”

He patted Chanyeol's shoulder, maybe a little too strong, making him wince. “Let's go back to work. You have to earn a lot of money if you want to buy your boyfriend's time. He's pretty damn expensive.”

Chanyeol winced. Kris' voice softened. “Unfortunately it's not like you can get a chance to be with him otherwise. He can't exactly afford to skip work.”

“How much is it? His debt, I mean.”

There was hesitation in Chanyeol's eyes, lost in an endless plane of childish determination. He really thought he could do something about it.

It's not even about money anymore. It's a matter of how much fun Lu Han can draw out of these poor things.

Maybe he was starting to understand the strange urge to help Chanyeol. He was like a kid, so immensely naive it was impossible not to take care of him, or not wanting to help him in any way. And that also explained why Byun was willing to risk his ass to send him away. It was just like looking at a child, playing the grown up games without thinking of consequences and risks. What other kind of fool joined a shady organization and began to kill people so out of the blue? Chanyeol didn’t think about his future, and most of the time he just did the first thing that came up to his mind. In the perfectly balanced mechanism of Lu Han’s empire he was as dangerous as a loose cannon, and yet he was also starting to see why Lu Han wanted so much to have him trained to kill.

The child in question charged the gun with a frighteningly firm hand, just as the door to their left opened and a slim woman left the building and started to walk their opposite way. The air cracked as the bullet hit her, barely making a sound.

Chanyeol took a deep breath, then he disassembled the silencer from the firearm. He had shoot his target from a good thirty meters, barely looking at her. A natural talent.

He couldn’t really answer Chanyeol's previous question. Instead he asked, “Where did you learn how to shoot?”

Chanyeol thought about it, and replayed with a shrug. “A long story, and worst of all a very boring one.” He didn’t seem willing to talk about it further.

He looked around them, losing his gaze in the darkness that impregnated the backstreet. No one was around, but someone could have seen him shooting from the windows. And people could come out of the same door the woman had come from any time now.

He turned towards Kris, his eyes wide and questioning, “Shouldn’t we go, like, now?”

Kris nodded. “Yes, we should.”

“Tell me, the story. How you learnt to shoot.” Before Chanyeol was going to refuse he added, “and maybe if you’re good and manage not to make any mess next time, I’ll tell you how we got to hire Baekhyun in the first place.”

Chanyeol smiled, an overgrown kid on Christmas Day.

“Deal.”

“What are we, Baekhyun?”

Chanyeol's head sank in Baekhyun's shoulder. Baekhyun mumbled the something against the pillow in response, “What do you mean, what are we?”

“I mean, are you my boyfriends now?”

Baekhyun's answer was immediate this time.

“No.”

“I don't get you.“

Baekhyun resorted to his best matter of fact, motherly tone, the one he had used countless of times to explain the meaning of words such as renaissance and hyperbole to Chanyeol. Things that were a given for him, but not for his best friend.

“I can't be anyone's boyfriend now, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol didn't respond to that, but the unmistakable tightening of his hold gave him away anyway.

“What's with the sudden serious question, anyway? It's,” he looked at the digital clock and groaned, “way too late for this.”

“You mean way too early” was the witty reply.

“Shut up.”

There was silence, and Baekhyun hoped the thorny conversation was done. Chanyeol proved him wrong.

“If we're not boyfriends, what are we?”

Baekhyun took his time, so much that Chanyeol thought he fell asleep. In the end his answer wasn't satisfying in any way. “We're friends.”

“Do you do,” his ears reddened, “that with all of your friends?”

It was another side of him he didn't know. Greedy, demanding, impatient and stubborn.

In their twisted relationship, it was always Chanyeol the demanding one. He whined and cried like a child, until his best friend didn't indulge in whatever whim Chanyeol had decided to pester him about.

He remembered times when he had asked the impossible for Baekhyun, taking impossible shifts at the shop in order to be free for Chanyeol's birthday party, staying up the night before a test so that they could review the notes together, leaving in the middle of a date just because Chanyeol was feeling bored and lonely at home. He had never done such things for him though, for Chanyeol was the king of banal excuses and lost occasions.

Baekhyun never complained, nor he ever asked for anything more than Chanyeol was feeling inclined to give. Which was, to tell the truth, very little.

Listening to his demands, harder, faster, deeper, there, shut up, keep going, he realized Baekhyun had been holding out on him all the time.

His limbs threatened to give up if he didn't slow the crazy beat Baekhyun was imposing him, and his lungs screamed for a breath. He timed his thrusts to be slower, although deeper, because he wasn't sure he could keep up with Baekhyun's sex fiend standard.

The other boy just flipped him over, their bodies disconnecting for a long moment he used to regain his breath, ice-cold oxygen finally filling his lungs properly. His back collided against the bed with a soft thump as Baekhyun jumped on him, seating deeply enough on Chanyeol's dick to make him choke.

He tried to hold his cries, but Baekhyun made it so difficult.

His hands were light like feathers on Chanyeol's chest, when they teased his nipples he jerked, coiling like a spring, snapping so hard he made Baekhyun bounce on his lap.

He merely laughed it off, seeming more interested in playing with Chanyeol's body than to actually fuck himself on it, though his voice had wavered through the snicker, and Chanyeol could easily see the hardness of his cock, twitching lightly whenever Chanyeol reacted to his touch vehemently enough to rile Baekhyun up.

When Baekhyun leaned on him, he was still not moving but the friction made Chanyeol mad, his own hardness left a sticky trail on Chanyeol's stomach before laying there, heavy and unattended.

For how much he was helpless and unable to even breath, let alone think or talk, something snapped in Chanyeol and before both of them could process it he was hauling Baekhyun up and then down, two voices crying in surprise and sheer pleasure as the teasing had been way too long.

Baekhyun batted Chanyeol's hands away from his hips to make all the work himself, dictating for them an even harsher beat than the one Chanyeol hadn't managed to keep on with before.

Chanyeol wanted to look at him, what a gorgeous sight he made with his hands on himself, everything else on Chanyeol. His eyes were wet, his sight flickered, the loud, tight slide too much to bear.

I think I've been running away from you the past five years of my life.

Baekhyun kissed him before he could say I love you.

Baekhyun took his time to answer.

“I don't do that with every one of my friends,” and Chanyeol knew way too well where this was going to end, “but I do it with a lot of people.”

“Why is everyone so bent on reminding me of that particular fact?”

Baekhyun snapped. “I don't know, maybe because it seems you're constantly forgetting about it?” The venom in his voice surprised Chanyeol. “Well, excuse me Yeol, but I can't exactly forget as easily as you can.”

He petted Baekhyun's hair, knowing that it would have calmed him. He felt his body slowly relaxing, but Baekhyun still released hostility.

“Why can't I be special?” he whined.

“You are special. My special friend.”

“I don't see you as a friend. I lov-”

Baekhyun lost it. “Frankly Chanyeol, you have spent the last five years ignoring me, having fun somewhere in Europe with, what was her name again?”

Chanyeol blocked him with a shout. “So you were jealous!” he beamed. “You were totally in love with me in high school, I knew it!”

“Get out of my bed.”

“GET OUT OF MY-” he scrambled, legs kicking around.

With his lanky form, Chanyeol managed to be everywhere, making very difficult for Baekhyun to throw him out of the bed. However, the bigger size made him an impressively easy target to pour his frustration on, and he made sure to hit hard and in the most painful places. Chanyeol's hold weakened and with a final tug, Baekhyun rolled free from his hold. Before the other boy could do anything he burrowed himself into the bed, tangling his body somewhere between the covers, the sheets and the duvet.

Chanyeol doubted he could wrestle him out of there, he didn't even know if Baekhyun would be able to leave the nest of his own will, at this point. He did the only thing that came to his mind.

With the air con on full blast blowing hot hair on them it was impossible to feel comfortable even for him who was sitting naked on the bed, but he didn't want to imagine what kind of hell was living Baekhyun under those tons of fabric.

He didn't have to wait for long. Just a few minutes had passed when Baekhyun's head, red and crowned by a halo of brown messy hair, sprang out of the bundle of covers, spitting venom at him.

“You asshole.”

Baekhyun gave him his answer when he was just about to fall asleep.

“We are friends,” he said “friends with benefits.” He reached tentatively for Chanyeol’s hand, “That's the most I can allow you to be.”

It'll be enough. For now.

“I don’t see why you’re so worried. Everything is going according to the plan.”

Yifan fidgeted with a lonely scrap of paper, rubbing it back and forth between thumb and forefinger. He was glad that Lu Han couldn’t see his hands now that they were safely tucked in the pocket of his coat. Hannie had always been able to discern whether he was fretting or keeping his composure just by looking at his hands. He didn’t want to show any weakness. Baring his insecurities in front of Lu Han was, in every case, a mistake, but he was sincerely worried this time.

“You should stop. Playing with people's lives is a hazard, Han.”

Lu Han chuckled, “I don’t know if you have realized, Yifan, but my entire life is a play with other people’s lives.”

Kris didn’t insist further, choosing to discard the coat and join Lu Han on the lounge instead. He laid besides his friend and employer, softly massaging his head with long fingers. No matter how many pills he took, everything still hurt like hell. Too many problems... Being Lu’s assistant was hard, and there were things that couldn’t wait for Lu Han’s sick amusements to be through.

“Besides, you have more pressing matters to worry about.”

From the look of it, he had finally caught Lu Han’s attention. The other boy slowly straightened his back, no more sprawled on the cushions but awake and alert, hands already striving for the content of the folder Yifan had drawn from the brief case. Inside there were photos, documents and audio transcriptions. The tag on the folder said Confidential.

When he spoke, it could seem to an outsider that he did it with no more than a little interest for the matter, just a bored boy asking out of sheer curiosity, “I heard there's been another leaking of information.”

But under Yifan’s eyes a metamorphosis had just took place. The boy who was now browsing swiftly through the pages of the dossier had none of the softness and the cloying clinginess of Xiao Han. His eyes moved fast over dates, words, his brain moved even faster under the brightly coloured hair, tainted only by the most expensive conditioner.

“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly, “we were very lucky. One our infiltrators sensed that there was something big going on and he warned us. We barely managed to postpone the meeting.”

“The deal we've lost would have given us a return of at a few millions of won, as well as the property papers of one of Macau's most prosperous and lucrative casino.”

His tone was light, but Yifan had been with Lu Han too long not to be able to feel the contempt carefully hidden behind every word.

“I know, I know. But we don't seem to be able to track down the source. All I know it's that, whoever they are, they're not working with the police.”

“Maybe they are,” mused Lu Han. “but not with the whole department.”

He tapped his fingers on the edge of the sofa. “It could be some internal project, maybe even secret services stuff, what do you think?”

Yifan didn’t even need to think about it. Stuttered pleas still rang in his head. The head of Seoul’s police force wouldn’t have dared to lie to him, not when his children were safely sleeping three rooms away, not when he had been this close to end him and his whole family that night.

“The police is not involved, Han, I’m sure.”

He hated to admit it, but this time he had no clues, no fucking idea of how to track this damn leaker. Someone near enough to know of their secret plans could have easily taken Lu Han down, and as security chief and Lu Han’s actually only true friend he couldn’t let that happen.

Silence engulfed them. Lu Han had slowly walked towards the window.

He didn’t really like majestic views, he had spent too much of his youth closed at the last floor of too high skyscrapers, staring from afar at the immense flow of lights and lives without the possibility to immerge himself in it, changing its path, forging the world as his own theme park.

When his father had died, finally, he thought with a sly grin, he had decided he wouldn’t have ever lived at the top of the world again. No more like a doll on his throne, he wanted to put his hands everywhere, he wanted to feel, to touch, he wanted to move things as he wanted.

He had chosen a little apartment, in a bleak, decaying share house. When there was enough silence, he could hear Jongin and Jongdae bicker over the most mundane things, from shower turns to forgetting to throw out expired milk. From the air intake that connected his and Baekhyun’s bathrooms, sometimes he heard the other boy crying. Lately all he could hear were moans.

He frowned, his eyes following the lofty frame of Park Chanyeol as he left the building, his head burrowed in the heavy coat to shield his face from the cold. He disappeared in an alley, probably off to some errands that Yifan, Kris, he had to remember to call him Kris, and mister too, and to treat him like a client instead of his favorite punching ball when he was with the other whores, had assigned him.

He turned around to find Yifan, still waiting for instructions.

“You have to stay close to Park Chanyeol.”

Yifan tried to keep the uncertainty out of his voice, but failed miserably. “I don't understand.”

Lu Han smiled, and this time it was a true, amused smile. He had figured it out, and Yifan still couldn’t understand anything. To be honest, he loved a bit too much to be ahead of others.

“Baekhyun told me he has no fucking clue on how Chanyeol found out he was here. He simply couldn’t have just found out by chance. Someone must have told him.”

“With all due respect Lu Han, but I don't think Chanyeol is involved in this story. I mean, you talked to him.”

Lu Han nodded. “Chanyeol is all but a tool. Someone is using him, and Baekhyun, to get to me. And those two don't even realize.”

Yifan just stared, dumbstruck. “Just how they're not realizing you're using them.”

“When Chanyeol came here I immediately realized something was off, and you know how I like to be ahead of others. If I can’t know his plans, I can at least make sure this informant we have doesn’t know of mines either.”

He sighed, and then threw a glance outside the window again. The life of the night was just about to begin. He needed to get out, reach the club, gather more informations. He needed to be ready.

I won’t be swept off my feet like my father was. They’ll never catch me off guard.

“I wonder if our mysterious spy knows who I am.”

Yifan had already put his coat on, and Lu Han didn’t even need to look at the hand currently hidden in the right pocket to know he was very nervous, probably unconsciously tearing at some poor piece of paper. He stopped looking at the wristwatch to throw a quick glance at Lu Han before he answered him.

“I shall hope not. This is dangerous, Hannie.”

I have news for you, my friend.

“All fun things are.”

part 3 >>