DEAD MEN LAUGHING for CSSVAMPII [2/3]

[yeolliepopday]

“You’re a bit late. It was Happy Hour about five hours ago,” Kris says as Chanyeol approaches the bar.

“That’s alright. I’m too depressed for Happy Hour anyway…” Chanyeol mutters, sitting himself down at the counter. He rests his chin on his hands and watches Kris as he polishes his way through a pile of glasses. “I’ve just had a shitty night, and I want to forget it as soon as possible. Is it too late for a beer..?”

“It’s never too late for a beer. And this ought to put a smile on your dial..” Kris replies, and he slaps a piece of paper down in front of Chanyeol.

“What’s this..?” Chanyeol asks, picking it up and blinking at it with weary eyes.

“Just read it, will you?”

Chanyeol quickly scans the flyer, his eyes widening gradually.

“‘So you think you’re laugh-out-loud funny?’” he reads aloud. “‘LOLfest 2014 is the opportunity for aspiring young comedians to shine, with a chance to win a grand prize of $10,000 and a spot in the upcoming National Comedy Festival’…”

Kris remains silent as Chanyeol reads, only letting out the occasional grunt of displeasure when he discovers a particularly spotty glass.

“Where did you get this…? Chanyeol asks, lowering the piece of paper. Kris shrugs, holding a wine glass over a small metal jug filled with boiling water and watching as it steams up.

“Some shady character in a navy trench came in and tacked it up on the noticeboard,” he says casually, wiping the glass clean with a dishcloth. “His legs were bare. Now that I think about it, I’m not entirely sure he was wearing any pants.”

“I have to audition for this,” Chanyeol mutters to himself. “I just have to...”

“I figured you’d be interested. That’s why I took it down and saved it for you, before someone else got their grubby mitts on it.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re the bloody best bartender a boy could bloody have.”

“Is that all I bloody am to you - someone who bloody dispenses drinks?” Kris says with a wry smile. “Anyway, what can I get you? The usual?”

Chanyeol nods as Kris pours him a beer and slides it across the bar. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant at all. You have many other good points as well… even if keeping me well-boozed is your primary purpose.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Chanyeol pauses to take a sip of beer and sets his glass back down on the bar with an ahh of satisfaction.

“If you get to the finals, I could come and watch you, if you want,” Kris offers. He doesn’t look up from the glass he’s polishing. “You know… for moral support, and all that.”

Chanyeol looks up at him in surprise. “You’d do that? But you hardly ever take nights off..”

Kris shrugs. “It’s just one night… it’s not a big deal. I’ll get Minseok to cover for me or something.”

“Well, alright - if I did get that far, it would be great if you came. Anyway, thanks for keeping this for me; I’m definitely going to sign up..”

Suddenly overwhelmed by a new sense of purpose, Chanyeol downs the rest of his beer in one swallow and slams the glass back down onto the counter. He slams it a little too hard, and it shatters into pieces.

Chanyeol stares at the shards of broken glass on the counter, and then looks up at Kris. Kris blinks back at him with a bemused expression.

“Uh… I guess I got a little overexcited there. Just add the glass to my next tab,” Chanyeol says, grinning sheepishly as he slowly backs away towards the exit. “See you later - thanks again..!”

Kris just shakes his head and goes back to polishing glasses, muttering something to himself that Chanyeol thinks he’s probably better off not hearing.

“Okay. Once more - this time, with feeling.”

Chanyeol groans loudly. He’s beginning to regret allowing Baekhyun to help him practice for his upcoming audition. The guy is way too gung-ho.

“I’m supposed to clean this entire auditorium at some stage, you know,” he mutters. “What did your other students die of..?”

“Too bad,” Baekhyun replies flatly. “How often do you have an empty theatre at your disposal to practice in? You want to ace this audition, right? You want to have a shot at winning this contest, don’t you..?”

“Well, yes,” Chanyeol sighs, “but…”

Baekhyun waves his hand dismissively. “No buts. If you want to be great, then you have to practice. Practice, practice, practice,” he says, pounding a fist against his hand for emphasis. “By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll know these routines so well you’ll be having nightmares about them. I want you to have enough solid material prepared so that you can pick and choose what’s appropriate for the occasion; then you can fill in the gaps with improv stuff, and look to the audience for cues if you get stuck. This is really important, Chanyeol. It’ll help your confidence and lessen the chance of you freezing up while you’re on stage. Now let’s take it from the top.”

Swallowing a long string of swear words, Chanyeol nods and begins his routine again. He barely gets five words out before Baekhyun interrupts him.

“Stop,” he says, sighing heavily. “Just stop. Why are you looking at me like that..?”

“Like what..?”

“Like I’m going to eat your soul, for shit’s sake..” Baekhyun replies, burying his head in his hands. “Ugh. This isn’t working. Take three deep breaths, say a prayer, get your shit together and start again.”

Chanyeol sighs wearily and begins to run through the same routine for the twentieth time that night. Baekhyun studies him intently for the duration, but his face remains expressionless, and this time he refrains from commenting until Chanyeol finishes speaking.

“It was pretty good…” he says at last, tapping his chin thoughtfully with his index finger. “But you’re still visibly nervous. I can smell that you're about to shit yourself before it even happens.”

“Yeah, well, I suffer from stage-fright, for your information,” Chanyeol replies irritably. “What do you want from me?”

“It’s just me, Chanyeol… what's there to be afraid of..?”

“Well, it’s not going to be just you tomorrow, is it? Anyway, it’s quite unnerving to perform in front of someone and be met with complete silence. You could at least humour me by laughing every now and then..”

“Chanyeol, surprise is one of the most vital elements of comedy,” Baekhyun says gently. “I’ve heard these jokes so many times now… of course they don’t make me laugh anymore. Why should I insult your intelligence with forced laughter? But that doesn’t mean I don’t think the material is great; if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t even bother making you practice it a thousand times.”

Chanyeol exhales forcefully, running his hands through his hair. “It’s just… I know what it’s like to get up on stage and die on your feet. I see it happen to other people all the time; they get up there and give it their best shot, and you could hear a pin drop, it’s so fucking quiet. I know how awful it feels to be in their shoes.”

“And you think I don’t know? I know what it feels like to die better than you do - in more ways than one,” Baekhyun replies, raising an eyebrow at Chanyeol. “I did this for a long time, you know, and I had to learn the ropes just like everyone else. What I’m trying to do is get you to be more comfortable with silence. Don’t fear it - use it to your advantage. Build up those long, dramatic pauses. You’ve got to have the audience on the edge of their seats, gagging for the next word - and then you knock 'em dead with your punchline. That's what it's all about. Now, there’s going to be a shitload of people at this audition, so if the idea of talking to so many people terrifies you, don't even think about them… just pretend they're me. Talk to them like you're talking to me.”

Chanyeol sighs and lets his arms fall helplessly by his sides. “That’s easier said than done, but okay. It’s at times like this that I kind of wish I had my own laugh track running in the background..”

Baekhyun chuckles at the suggestion. “Life isn’t a sitcom, Chanyeol. You don’t need a bunch of laughing dead guys to know you’re funny.”

“Laughing dead guys..?” Chanyeol asks, looking at him blankly.

“Uh-huh. Most of the laugh tracks you hear in sitcoms were recorded in the fifties,” Baekhyun replies. “So those people you hear laughing in the background would pretty much all be dead by now. Creepy, huh?”

Chanyeol shrugs. “I think it’s eerily beautiful, in a way… like they’re all immortalised in a single moment of joy forever.”

Baekhyun ponders this for a moment, smiling to himself. “I’ve never thought of it like that… that’s pretty cool. Still, it’s not a patch on the real deal, is it? Standing up on stage and hearing people gasping for air, slapping their knees, stamping the floor with their feet, all because of something you said…. nothing makes you feel more alive..”

Chanyeol sighs wistfully and sits himself down on the stage. “I feel you. It’s the whole reason I put myself through this shit on a regular basis.”

“Alright,” Baekhyun says quietly. He stands up from his seat and stretches. “I think I’ve overworked you enough for one night. We’ll just hope for the best tomorrow, okay?”

Chanyeol nods and slowly gets to his feet. “Okay. I should probably get back to cleaning, then…” he says wearily. “These floors ain’t gonna vacuum themselves, as much as I wish they would. Thanks again..”

“Not a problem - we’ve made good progress, I think. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning,” Baekhyun says, and with one last mischievous wink in Chanyeol’s direction, he vanishes backstage with the swish of a velvet curtain.

Chanyeol stands there for a moment, staring at the spot where Baekhyun had been standing only seconds earlier. Before long, the other man pokes his head back through the curtains again, grinning widely.

“Sorry... I've always wanted to do that..” he says, and disappears once more - this time for good.

On the day of the audition, Chanyeol is so nervous he feels like he might vomit and pass out all at once - thankfully he does neither, but he makes a mental note of where the toilets are, just in case. Baekhyun stands next to him in the registration queue, whispering words of encouragement the whole way. Although he’s unable to acknowledge Baekhyun’s presence in public, Chanyeol can’t help feeling overwhelmed with gratitude to have him there.

He takes the stage when it’s his turn to audition, plodding up the steps with leaden feet, and he stands before the crowd of hopefuls and a panel of four judges with a 5-digit number pinned to the front of his sweater. Taking the mic in one hand, he pushes the stand completely to the side, fighting the irresistible urge to hide behind it - not that it would cover him anyway, but intense fear and rational thought tend to be mutually exclusive.

“Hi,” he says, attempting to swallow the baseball-sized lump in his throat. “I’m Chanyeol.”

Inhaling deeply, he looks over to where Baekhyun is seated on the floor in the corner of the room. Baekhyun grins and gives him two thumbs up. Chanyeol winks back at him and, taking another deep breath, he soldiers on.

“Any cabbies or chauffeurs in the audience?” he asks, nodding when a few people raise their hands. “A few of you, huh. I used to have a job as a hired limo driver, so I met lots people who were too rich to drive their own cars. One day, I’m sent out to drive this guy to the airport. He meets me out the front of the biggest house I’ve ever seen in my life, and at his direction I start piling masses of luggage into the boot. Naturally he doesn't lift a pinky to help me..”

Chanyeol pauses for breath for a moment, casting his eyes over the audience.

“So I ask him if that’s all he’s got, and he says yes, and he adds that his wife will be out in a minute. ‘Oh, I don't know if there's enough boot space left for that,’ I jokingly tell him, ‘but if she’s flexible enough, maybe we can try folding her in half..’”

Chanyeol’s ears are graced with polite laughter, and he closes his eyes for a moment, savouring the sound and using it to charge up his confidence. As soon as the silence settles back in, he resumes pacing across the stage, watching the audience as they watch him, their eyes following his every movement; back and forth, like hypnotised spectators at a tennis match.

“I was just having a laugh, but it wasn’t very well-received,” Chanyeol continues. He’s slowly but steadily gaining momentum now. “Then the wife finally emerges from the house; a tall, blonde supermodel of a woman with legs up to her ears...”

He pauses again for effect and looks out into the audience, facing them head on and bringing the microphone closer to his lips.

“I take one look at her and I lean over to whisper in her husband’s ear. ‘I really am sorry, sir, but she's just a tad too long. I think we’ll have to tie her to the roof.’”

A wave of laughter ripples through the crowd this time, followed by applause, but somehow Chanyeol barely notices. It all gets drowned out by the sound of Baekhyun shouting his name, and the incredible brightness of his smile.

“Okay ladies and gents, the following contestants will be going through to the semi-finals,” the MC announces after the auditions are over. Chanyeol stops biting his nails down to the skin and perks up, looking at Baekhyun with a mixture of terror and excitement.

“Don’t stress; you were great,” Baekhyun whispers aside to him. “It’s in the bag, no worries.”

Chanyeol closes his eyes, resting his head in his hands as the MC drones out an endless list of numbers. After a while he zones out, and the numbers all begin to run together into one long, incomprehensible sound. He’s still off and away with the purple fairies when Baekhyun grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him violently.

“You’re through, you’re through!” he yells in Chanyeol’s ear. “They just called your number out!”

“Oh my god, really?!” Chanyeol cries out excitedly, and then clears his throat nervously when he remembers that no one else can see who he’s talking to.

“The semi-finals will be held this Friday night at Charlie’s Comedy Club,” the MC continues. “Please be at the venue at 5 PM sharp to get your name signed off. Congratulations to all semi-finalists. To everyone else, thanks for coming and well done..”

“Did he just say Charlie’s..?” Chanyeol asks, turning towards Baekhyun. “Fucking hell, I’m going to perform at Charlie’s? Someone pinch me, I’m clearly dreaming..”

“You’re not dreaming,” Baekhyun tells him, throwing his arms around Chanyeol’s neck and planting a sloppy kiss on the side of his face. “You’re a champion, and I’m so proud of you.”

Chanyeol smiles smugly to himself. “I am a champion, aren’t I..?”

“Mummy,” he hears a little girl behind them whispering to her mother, “who’s that man talking to..?”

“Oh god, I can’t do it…” Chanyeol groans, resting his head on the toilet seat in front of him. The tiles are cold and hard against his knees, even through the fabric of his jeans. He’d been picturing this very night in his head over and over for the past few days, and admittedly, falling apart in the bathroom hadn’t really been a part of the fantasy.

“You should probably go and wait backstage now,” Baekhyun says worriedly, comfortingly patting Chanyeol’s back. “You’ll be up soon..”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says weakly, slowly getting to his feet. “Anyway, if I puke one more time, I’ll probably lose an organ..”

Baekhyun helps Chanyeol up and gently pushes him towards the waiting area, where he sinks into the nearest vacant seat he can find amongst all the other petrified contestants, pacing back and forth and muttering to themselves.

“Okay, try to be calm,” Baekhyun tells him. “You’ll be fine. Remember - talk to them like you’re talking to me.”

Chanyeol nods and flashes Baekhyun the most reassuring ‘I’m perfectly fine’ smile he can manage, but it fades as soon as the other man disappears from sight. He hangs his head, praying earnestly to whoever’s listening that he won’t screw up. When he opens his eyes again he sees Chaerin in the far corner, reading aloud from a crumpled sheet of paper; to Chanyeol’s surprise, she looks just as pale and sick as everyone else does, and he doesn’t know whether to feel slightly relieved or even more terrified.

Even the fearless ones aren’t totally immune, it seems.

“Park Chanyeol,” the MC hisses at him, “you’re up next.”

Chanyeol walks onto the stage and stares into the audience, searching the sea of unfamiliar faces for Baekhyun. Then he locates a thin, pale arm sticking out from the crowd, waving frantically at him.

“I’m here, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun calls out, “now talk to me..!”

Chanyeol smiles, the fear holding his heart in a vice suddenly melting away as though it had never existed. With a nod of acknowledgment, he lifts the microphone to his lips and opens his mouth to speak.

Chanyeol practically pirouettes through the doors of Rubbing Elbows later that night, eager to tell Kris his good news. Kris grunts at the sound of Chanyeol approaching but carries on wiping the benches without acknowledging him. Minseok is busy mopping the floor of the bar area behind him, whistling tunelessly while he works; but for the two of them, the pub is completely empty.

Chanyeol pulls up a stool, its legs scraping loudly over the tiled floor. He sits down, leaning on the counter. “Guess what?”

“I don’t know, Chanyeol,” Kris says - rather stiffly, Chanyeol can’t help noticing. “Do enlighten me.”

“I performed at the semi-finals tonight,” Chanyeol tells him. “And, you, Kris Wu my dearest, are now looking at a LOLfest finalist - or at least you would be, if you were actually looking at me..”

“I see,” Kris replies, still not looking up. “Congratulations..”

“But that’s not all,” Chanyeol continues excitedly. “The semi-finals were held at this really famous comedy club called Charlie’s, and after my performance the club manager pulled me aside and invited me back to perform there next week. If they offer me a regular spot, I’ll have it made - I’ve heard that place is practically crawling with talent scouts at any given time..”

“Well, that sounds great, Chanyeol,” Kris says, finally looking up to meet Chanyeol’s eye. “You do realise you were supposed to perform here tonight like we discussed a while ago? Or did it slip your mind..?”

Chanyeol looks at Kris blankly for a moment, his face falling.

“Oh fuck, you’re right...” he groans, slamming a hand into his forehead. “God, I’m so sorry… I was so preoccupied with preparing for the semi-final that I completely forgot..”

Kris shrugs, tossing a dirty dishcloth into a plastic milk crate on the floor behind him. “Whatever,” he says, sighing. “It’s okay… I mean, I really could have done with a warning that you weren’t going to show up, but what’s done is done. On that note, you’d be surprised how many people turned up to see you… the place was packed out. I did have posters up advertising it for the past few weeks, I suppose..”

Chanyeol runs his hands through his hair, pulling at it slightly. “Fucking hell, I am the worst person in the world...” he whispers. “What did you do..?”

“Well, I apologised and announced that there had been a last-minute cancellation, as you do,” Kris replies flatly. “Then I went through the delightful process of personally refunding all the door money that Sehun had collected for the show. Good times.”

“I’m really sorry, Kris. I honestly can’t tell you enough how sorry I am-”

“I told you it’s fine,” Kris snaps, cutting Chanyeol off. He picks up a pint glass and holds it ready under the tap. “So. What do you want?” he asks, his voice now completely devoid of emotion. “The usual..?”

“You’re mad at me,” Chanyeol replies, ignoring the question. “I can tell.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Kris puts the glass back down on the bench and, for the first time that night, he looks Chanyeol right in the eye.

“It’s just that… lately it seems like furthering your career takes precedence above all your other commitments… like your time is more valuable than everyone else’s,” he says quietly. “That's what shits me.”

“Kris, I don’t know what to say,” Chanyeol replies, wringing his hands helplessly. “I really do feel like a complete dick. But even if I had remembered I was supposed to perform here tonight, would you really expect me to drop out of the competition for you? You’re the one who told me about it in the first place..”

Kris sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah. You’re right - that’s what you want to hear, isn’t it? Now just forget it…” he mutters. He quickly pours Chanyeol a beer and slams the glass onto the counter before stalking off to the other end of the bar.

Chanyeol lifts the glass to his lips and immediately puts it back down again, his expression souring. “This is all head,” he says, pushing it away.

“Really? What a shame,” Kris replies drily. Out of the corner of his eye, Chanyeol can sense Minseok observing their exchange in timid silence; he quietly sneaks out the back, ostensibly with the aim of giving them some privacy.

“God, you really are shitty at me, aren’t you..?” Chanyeol says as soon as they’re alone.

Kris snorts. “What makes you say that..?”

Chanyeol slams his hands down on the counter triumphantly. “You are! I know you, Kris… you’re a bloody perfectionist. I’ve seen you pouring beers that weren’t even half this bad down the sink, simply because you refused to serve them to people. This isn’t a beer… it’s a punishment in a glass.”

“So you’re accusing me of pouring you a glass of foam just to punish you - is that it?” Kris says in a dangerously quiet voice. “Do you really think I’m that petty, Chanyeol..?”

Chanyeol briefly considers his answer. He can hear Kris grinding his teeth impatiently while he stares him down.

“Yes,” he says at last. “I do.”

Kris looks at Chanyeol blankly for a moment, his eyes gradually narrowing into slits.

“Listen… if you couldn’t make it tonight because you had the semi-final to attend to, then that’s fine,” he growls. “But you could have told me. Instead you broke a commitment and screwed me over at the last second. Some friend you are..”

“Kris, I genuinely forgot,” Chanyeol says quietly. The glass of beer-flavoured foam sits forgotten on the counter, acting like a barrier between them. “I wouldn’t lie to you… not about that.”

“Please… can you just go?” Kris mutters, taking the glass away and pouring the frothy contents out into the sink. “I’m trying to close up here. You’re holding me up.”

Chanyeol nods in silence and stands up, pushing his stool back under the counter.

“I thought you really believed in me,” he says angrily. “Fucking hell, how wrong was I..?”

“For the love of god, Chanyeol… it’s comedy. It’s not even a real job,” Kris replies, his tone colder than ice. He’s stacking clean beer glasses on the bench against the wall, his back turned towards Chanyeol. “It’s just a bloody hobby.”

Chanyeol opens his mouth to say something in reply, but nothing suitably scathing springs to mind. He waits for a moment, watching to see if Kris will turn around, but he only continues stacking glasses with no further acknowledgment of Chanyeol’s presence.

“Whatever,” Chanyeol mutters, “I don’t have time for this shit. I’ve got material to write.”

“Well, good luck Chanyeol. All the best in your endeavours,” Kris calls out to him as he walks away. Chanyeol flips the bird at his back before leaving, but somehow he only ends up regretting it as soon as he walks out the door.

During the drive home, Chanyeol tries to convince himself that he did the right thing. Golden opportunities don’t come by everyday; surely Kris would understand his need to attend the semi-final, deep down. He’s bound to get over himself and realise it eventually.

I'm finally going places, Chanyeol thinks as he waits at the lights, and he watches the nodding dog figurine on the dashboard bobbing its head up and down in agreement.

Chanyeol sighs heavily. Who am I kidding? I'm on a long road to nowhere..

“It’s just you and me against the world now…” he murmurs, patting the steering wheel affectionately.

“Cool. Where are we going..?”

Chanyeol nearly ejects himself through the windshield in surprise. He turns his head to find Baekhyun in the passenger seat next to him, grinning from ear to ear.

“You scared the shit out of me..” he wheezes, clutching at his chest. The car behind him sounds its horn twice, and realising that the lights have since turned green, Chanyeol steps on the accelerator, speeding through the intersection.

Baekhyun's eyes dart around suspiciously. “Hmm. I thought I could smell something weird..”

“I thought we agreed that you weren't going to show up without warning me anymore,” Chanyeol says through gritted teeth. “Do you want me to have an accident..?”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to congratulate you again for a top performance tonight,” Baekhyun replies, wrenching a half-full cup of iced coffee from two days ago out of the space between the seat and the door. He takes a long sip, scrunching up his face in disgust before shoving it back where he found it.

“For someone who claims to be a comedian, your timing could well be improved upon,” Chanyeol says with a sigh, “but anyway, thanks.”

“Are you alright?” Baekhyun asks him, looking concerned. “You seem a bit out of sorts. Did something happen..?”

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol replies, but in reality he’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his fingers are starting to ache.

“Are you sure..? You were all ecstatic when you were named as a finalist… what’s going on..?”

Before Chanyeol has a chance to insist that he’s bloody well fine, something white and fluffy darts across the road right in front of his car. Acting on reflex, he turns the wheel sharply to avoid it, running off the road and colliding with a signpost.

Chanyeol stares blankly ahead of him, fingers still wrapped around the wheel, his jaw slack with shock. Eventually he comes to his senses and notices a white cat standing on the pavement a little way off, its eyes reflecting the beam of the one headlight still functioning. After a few seconds it runs off, and Chanyeol follows it with his eyes until it disappears.

Swearing loudly, he slams his hands against the steering wheel and hops out to inspect the damage inflicted upon his beloved Volvo. With one headlight and part of the bumper smashed in, the car looks even more like a turd on wheels than it did before, but he figures it’ll still be just barely drivable until he can cough up the funds to get it repaired.

Like that’ll happen.

Chanyeol hears the sound of the passenger door shutting gently, and Baekhyun moves to stand next to him. “Um… are you okay..?” he asks timidly, putting his hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“Tell me something,” Chanyeol replies, turning to face him. “What does my face look like right now..?”

Baekhyun looks up into Chanyeol’s eyes, anxiously chewing his bottom lip. “You look…” he begins hesitantly, and then he lets out a dejected little sigh. “You look mildly devastated..”

Chanyeol nods. “Good,” he replies, his voice cracking a little. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”

Shrugging Baekhyun’s hand away, he collapses back into the driver’s seat, yanking the door shut behind him. He pulls the sun visor down, peering at himself in the tiny mirror. The face staring back at him looks just as awful as he feels, and it quickly dawns on him that it actually has little to do with the current state of his car.

Baekhyun knocks on the window, motioning for Chanyeol to roll it down. Sighing heavily, he obliges, winding it down halfway and raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Chanyeol… did I do something wrong..?” Baekhyun asks in a small voice, but Chanyeol cuts him off, jamming the key into the ignition and restarting the engine.

“Please, Baekhyun… I don’t want to talk about it, okay..?” he says quietly, shaking his head. Baekhyun only looks back at Chanyeol with glistening eyes as he begins the laborious process of winding the window up again, the lever squeaking ridiculously loudly with each rotation. Despite Chanyeol’s earnest efforts, it seems to take twice as long as it did to wind it down. He almost wants to laugh, but he feels like he’s forgotten how.

With an exasperated sigh, Chanyeol finally gives up and takes off with a screech of tyres and the smell of burnt rubber, nearly running Baekhyun down in the process -
not that it would matter anyway, Chanyeol thinks, given that he’s already dead. The wind rushing through the open window immediately chills him to the bone, and he watches the ghostly figure in the rearview mirror as he drives away, still standing in the middle of the road, growing smaller and fainter until it finally disappears from sight.

As soon as he gets home, Chanyeol barricades himself in his room and throws himself into writing and rewriting his material, but no matter how hard he tries, or how many times he rewords the same sentence, nothing seems to work.

It’s no use. I need his help.

No. No I don’t. I was fine before… I can do this without him.

“What do you think of this..?” he pipes up, testing a new joke out on his cat - with Yura staying over at her boyfriend’s house, he has no better audience at hand.

The cat looks up at him curiously for a moment, as though listening intently. Finally it deposits a soggy hairball next to his feet and wanders elsewhere with its tail in the air.

Chanyeol sighs heavily. “Well, thanks for your input..”

Deciding to give up for the night, he scrunches the piece of paper up into a tiny ball and tosses it over his shoulder, where it joins a host of other rejected jokes on the floor of his bedroom. He turns the lights off and falls into bed, where he tosses and turns for a while, harrowed by vivid nightmares of being killed onstage with various forms of medieval weaponry.

He wakes up dripping with sweat, having just been shot through the heart by a heckler wielding a crossbow, and slowly sits up in bed, turning his head to look at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand. The clock reads 2.35 AM.

Chanyeol collapses back onto the mattress, willing himself to fall back asleep, but no matter how much he pleads and threatens, sleep refuses point-blank to show up. After what feels like hours of staring up at the ceiling and waiting for it to fall on him, he rolls out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes he can find on the floor and slamming the apartment door behind him.

“Baekhyun? Are you here?”

Chanyeol tries to keep his voice down as he tiptoes down the aisle of the auditorium. He doesn’t have a valid excuse to be letting himself into the theatre at this time of night, but the stage lights have been left on, and it’s a sure sign that Baekhyun must be lurking around somewhere.

“Baekhyun, where are you? Please come out..”

Sure enough, Baekhyun slowly fades into view, perched on the stage with his legs hanging over the edge. He’s still wearing that same kicked-puppy expression he had on when Chanyeol last saw him a few hours earlier.

“You came looking for me, huh?” he says in a soft voice. “Am I out of the bad books then?”

“Yeah, I-” Chanyeol pauses, staring at Baekhyun blankly. “What’s happening to you..?”

Baekhyun looks puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“You're fading away…”

“Oh, that,” Baekhyun replies, looking down at his hands. They’re almost completely transparent, now nothing but a faint outline resting in his lap. “I guess I am.”

“You haven't noticed..?”

“I’ve noticed, but I’m not really sure why it’s happening. It’s been happening more and more lately… I’ve just been trying to ignore it.”

Chanyeol swallows nervously. “Oh. Well... I wanted to talk to you.”

“Really..?” Baekhyun replies, his eyes lighting up a little.

Chanyeol sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry for taking my frustration out on you earlier. I’d just fallen out with my only real non-dead friend, and I was in a shitty mood, and then the accident was just the rotten cherry on top… but I didn’t write off the car, so it’s no big deal. I can always get it fixed.”

Baekhyun nods, clasping his near-invisible hands together in front of him. “I'm really glad you came… after the accident, I was thinking I should probably just leave you alone. I'm supposed to be here to help, not screw up your life. Maybe you’re better off without me around to fuck things up.”

“No,” Chanyeol interrupts him, shaking his head. “You really have helped me - you’ve helped me a lot. I wouldn’t have come back here looking for you if that wasn’t the case, and as hard as it is for me to admit, being the proud bastard I am, I still need you. I can’t do this alone.”

“Oh, I think you can,” Baekhyun says, smiling. “I think you’re perfectly capable. You’ve come a long way, Chanyeol. But if you need me, I’m still here.”

“For how long..?”

Baekhyun pauses for a moment. “For now. I couldn’t really tell you how much longer,” he replies, holding his hands out in front of him. “As you can see, I’m starting to lose my corporeal form, and it’s getting harder for me to interact with the world around me. Sometimes I can’t even pick things up anymore.”

“Assuming you're here because you’re meant to fulfill some kind of purpose... whatever it is, once that need is filled, where will you go? What’s going to happen to you..?” Chanyeol asks quietly.

Baekhyun shrugs, turning his head to survey his surroundings in thoughtful silence. “I’ll go wherever I'm supposed to, I guess. I don’t know why I’m still here… I just feel like something's still unfinished.”
“Like what?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. We won’t worry about that now,” he says, patting the stage next to him. “Come. Sit with me.”

Chanyeol makes himself comfortable next to Baekhyun and they sit together in peace and quiet for a while, their feet dangling over the orchestra pit. While Baekhyun hums along to an unfamiliar tune, Chanyeol looks around the auditorium, casting his eyes over the plaster relief on the walls and ceiling, painted white with accents of gold.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve always loved this place,” Baekhyun says eventually, as though reading Chanyeol’s thoughts. “I was lucky enough to perform here a few times.”

“I’d love to perform here,” Chanyeol replies. “Not that it’ll ever happen..”

“I’m sure you will, someday.”

Chanyeol draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, humming a little in contemplation.

“I don’t know…” he sighs, “at the moment my confidence is completely shot. My gig at Charlie’s is next week, and the competition finals are in barely a month, and I’m so anxious about them both that it’s not funny. I can’t shake the feeling that maybe I’m just pissing in the wind with this whole comedy thing..”

“You're not,” Baekhyun replies, shaking his head. “Why would you even think that? You’re doing great. You're just taking it too seriously, that’s all. The moment you stop having fun with it is when you’re doing it wrong.”

“But this is different,” Chanyeol says quietly. “Things are finally getting real for me, and I’m not sure how to handle it. And that one person in my life who I thought would always be there for me isn’t even speaking to me at the moment. I never even told him how I feel.”

“Is that why you’re freaking out right now?” Baekhyun asks gently.

Chanyeol sighs heavily. “Well, it’s certainly not helping.”

Baekhyun studies him intently for a while. “You have a thing for him, don’t you..?”

“I have mixed feelings about him. He's a serious man, and a little grouchy sometimes - the complete opposite to me, in a way. But he’s easily the most decent human being I know. And when someone believes in you, it makes them seem so much more attractive somehow, in spite of their failings. I can't explain why. I’m fairly sure he doesn’t believe in me anymore though, after what happened between us earlier..”

“It sounds like maybe you do like him,” Baekhyun singsongs accusingly, and Chanyeol shakes his head.

“I don't know. I know that I definitely feel something… I just can’t really put a name to it.”

“If you like him, Chanyeol, you should tell him.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start, to be honest. I can barely keep track of my own life, let alone sort out my feelings.”

“Hmm. I know what you mean.”

Chanyeol sighs and rests his head on his folded arms. “I envy you, in a way. You can just disappear whenever you want.”

Baekhyun chuckles softly. “That’s an odd thing to envy..”

“It’s long been a fantasy of mine,” Chanyeol says quietly. “To just get up one day and leave, without saying anything to anyone about where I’m going. Somewhere where no one knows who I am, and where people’s opinions of me don’t matter.”

“If that’s what you fantasise about, I think you’re chasing the wrong career.”

Chanyeol looks at Baekhyun for a long time. Every so often he fades a little more, flickering like a television channel in bad weather.

It seems like the weather has been increasingly bad lately.

“You know, Chanyeol, I was once like you,” Baekhyun says, breaking the silence at last. “I had dreams too - and not just work-related dreams. I wanted to fall in love and have a family of my own someday, but of course I never got to do any of that. In fact, I was far too concerned with my career to even make time for my parents. I wouldn't see them for months on end, and I knew that it hurt them… but I swallowed the guilt and washed it down with a few phone calls home to ease my conscience. And then I died, and I haven’t been able to get over it. I never had any plans to die... I wasn’t done, you know? There was no pistol between my teeth, no drugs - I wasn't even drunk. The only thing I was high on was the adrenaline rush of that night's performance. And to hear of people who knew me as a comedian speculating that I was some tortured soul who topped himself in a hotel room is so upsetting, because nothing could be further from the truth.”

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask again,” Chanyeol replies, turning to face him, “but how did you really die?”

Baekhyun laughs pleasantly, but Chanyeol can detect a trace of bitterness running through it. “It’s so absurd you probably wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

“Try me,” Chanyeol replies. “I don’t think anything will surprise me anymore.”

Baekhyun sighs heavily and turns his head, looking Chanyeol right in the eye. “Okay. Well, if you really want to know… I died laughing.”

Chanyeol doesn’t know how to react to this information at first, so he bursts out laughing himself.

“Be careful,” Baekhyun says glumly. “That’s precisely how I went..”

“Oh, come on. You can’t really die from laughing.”

Baekhyun stares straight ahead of him instead of replying, and Chanyeol clears his throat nervously.

“Um… can you…?”

“Well, not from the act of laughing itself, I suppose,” Baekhyun says at last, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “But in my case, I had an aneurysm - a ticking time bomb buried in my brain, just waiting to go off. I happened to laugh a little too hard, and so it ruptured. Within minutes, I was dead. Ironic, isn’t it..?”

“Fuck,” Chanyeol curses, shaking his head in disbelief. “And I thought laughter was supposed to be good for you..”

“Oh, it is, most of the time,” Baekhyun replies. “I was just unlucky. What a stupid, worthless way to die… I suppose it would have made a good story, if only I’d lived to tell it.”

“What did it feel like to die?” Chanyeol asks quietly.

“Death itself was relatively quick; I can only recall a stabbing pain behind my eyes before I blacked out. But I don’t think I’ve finished dying yet, in the sense that I’m still in the midst of detaching myself from the earth. It’s a long process, and it has to be done properly… you can’t take anything with you. You just have to let it all go. Maybe that’s why I’m still here.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Chanyeol admits, and Baekhyun looks thoughtful for a moment.

“Well, there are your dreams, for starters…” he says, “and I’m speaking of dreams as aspirations, not the kind you have when you sleep. No one ever tells you this when you’re alive, but I’ve realised that when you die, your unfulfilled dreams don't necessarily die with you… and you can cling to them all you want, but without a real, physical body, it's cumbersome. Sooner or later, as you learn to let go of all the things that kept you weighted to the world, you realise how heavy they are, and they become increasingly difficult to carry.”

Chanyeol nods, considering the idea. “Hmm. I never thought of that.”

“Yes. So you shed them one by one, no matter how much it pains you to let them go, because you have no choice,” Baekhyun continues. “You let them fall down to earth, and you blindly hope that the right people will pick them up and nurture them. Or, you can do what I’m hoping to do, and personally pass them on to someone else. I never did do things by the book..”

“But why me?” Chanyeol asks quietly.

“Because I know you can make them happen.”

“I’m honoured, but that’s a lot of responsibility. You were probably much better at this than me.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, adopting an expression that looks as though he might either laugh or burst into tears, or both.

“Chanyeol, you don’t know what I would give to hear their laughter again… to know that it’s for me,” he says quietly. “You have no idea. Regret is enough of a burden when you’re young, and it only gets heavier… don’t give it a chance to steal the breath from you. Death will come along and do the very same before you know it.”

“Do you regret dying?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “We all have to die sometime. But I regret how I died, even though I had no control over it. I was completely alone, in a cheap hotel room; no one was there to hold my hand, or watch me take my last breath. I was wearing this outfit - I always wore purple on stage; it was my lucky colour. Monty Python’s Life of Brian was still running on the television, because I was watching it at the time, and then before I knew it I was staring back at my own body, not knowing what to do. I even pooped my pants, because that’s what happens when you die, apparently - you shit yourself. Is that funny? I don't know… maybe it is. I normally see a funny side to everything, Chanyeol, but I find it so hard to see the humour in that.”

“Oh my god,” Chanyeol whispers, horrified. “I love Life of Brian..”

Baekhyun smiles wryly. “I used to. Now I can’t even hear Always Look on the Bright Side of Life without wanting to punch something.”

“What happened then?” Chanyeol asks.

“Well, I waited around for a long time to see if I'd wake up, until they finally found me, and I watched them carry me away,” Baekhyun says quietly. “I was screaming at them, trying to tell them that this was all a huge mistake… that it wasn't supposed to happen..”

Baekhyun’s voice catches in his throat, and he looks at his fading hands for a moment before pressing them to his chest.

“And I don't know why I feel like I can't breathe,” he whispers, choking on his words. “Why now, after all this time? I haven't breathed in so long..”

Baekhyun turns his head towards Chanyeol, both hands still pressed to his heart. The look in his eyes is frighteningly hollow.

“Do me a favour,” he says hoarsely. “Please..”

“Sure,” Chanyeol replies, his forehead creasing with concern. “Anything..”

Baekhyun holds out his hand, the palm facing upwards, still fading in and out of transparency.

“Hold my hand, Chanyeol,” he whispers. “Tell me I'm still real. I don't even know if I am anymore. I've always been so sure that I was here, and now I'm fading away in front of my own eyes. God, it scares me..”

Chanyeol nods silently, taking Baekhyun’s hand in his own, and it’s like trying to hold on to a warm whisper of air. He doesn't know if it's his eyes playing tricks on him, but for a moment Baekhyun seems to be less transparent than he was before. His touch is so real, his grip on Chanyeol’s hand urgent, and Chanyeol can feel it deep down, somewhere far beneath his skin.

Baekhyun closes his eyes, silently mouthing words that Chanyeol can’t make out. After a while he opens them again.

“Okay,” he says, “I'm good..”

They sit in silence for a while, still holding hands, and the thought briefly enters Chanyeol’s head that he should perhaps move his hand away, but Baekhyun only tightens his grip on it, as though reading his mind.

“This is an odd thing to say,” Chanyeol murmurs, looking down at their joined hands, “but I really wish you were real.”

“I am real,” Baekhyun replies. “I'm here, aren't I? You can see me with your own eyes. You’re holding my hand right now..”

“But as far as I know, I'm the only one, and sometimes I can’t help wondering if you're just a product of my imagination,” Chanyeol says quietly. “Something I really want to be real. How will I ever know, unless I find someone else who can see you too..?”

Baekhyun smiles in spite of himself. “You didn't always want me to be real, you know.”

Chanyeol smiles back, giving Baekhyun’s hand a playful pat. “Well, you've really grown on me. In a sort of parasitic way.”

Baekhyun laughs, and Chanyeol’s ears welcome the pleasant sound. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

“Will you promise me something, Baekhyun..?” Chanyeol asks softly.

“What’s that?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but please promise me that you’ll be there for me whenever I perform - at least for as long as you’re still here. No matter how nervous I get, I know I’ll be fine, as long as you’re with me.”

Baekhyun nods. “I’ll be there for you as long as you need me. I promise.”

Having said this, he releases Chanyeol’s hand at last and stretches his arms above his head, yawning and laying back on the stage floor.

“I feel a lot better after getting all of that death stuff off my chest,” he says, closing his eyes and releasing a little sigh of contentment. “A lot lighter, somehow.”

Chanyeol watches Baekhyun in silence until he opens his eyes again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks. His lips curl upwards a little in the beginnings of a smile.

Chanyeol shakes his head. “No reason… but I'd better go; it’s really late. Will you be okay..?”

Baekhyun slowly sits up as Chanyeol rises to his feet. “Yeah. I'll be fine. I’ll see you soon, then..?”

“Of course.”

Chanyeol leans down to give Baekhyun’s hand a firm but friendly shake, holding on to it for a moment before finally letting go and quietly making his way out of the auditorium. He pauses in front of the main doors, and when he turns to look back, Baekhyun is still sitting there with his legs dangling off the edge of the stage, tapping his heels together to an unheard rhythm and smiling up at something that Chanyeol cannot see.

◄
►