MONSTER (CHAN/BAEK)

Hongbin's childhood friend Baekhyun has epilepsy.

Chapter Three

His consciousness is slowly returning to him. Baekhyun identifies the

memory foam under his back. He can hear muffled voices, and a beep,
intermittent, as if coming from underwater. He drags his heavy lids
open, blinking to clear the fuzzy vision as the fluorescent light assaults
his pupils. The moment his bearings are intact, and he is awake enough
–though a little disoriented, a vividly daunting memory flashes before
him: the van, the explosion, Minseok’s head rolling to his feet, blood,
and more blood. Then nausea hits him like a sucker punch. He groans,
rolls over, and expels the contents of his stomach: fish and roasted
rabbit disintegrated by bile. The stench is so ailing, and the tang on the
back of his throat is so bitter. Just as the heaving subsides, Baekhyun
falls back on the pillow. There is a pillow under his head, and he almost
hates himself for even thinking it’s fluffier than the headrest of his seat
in the van. He soon realizes that he is, in fact, unclothed. At this, he
fights beyond the fuzziness and disorientation to sit up and study his
surroundings.

It’s a twenty-eight square meters windowless room with plastered walls

and a wooden door across his bed. It’d have looked mostly empty if it
wasn’t for the double bed he’s currently leaning on, the DRE waveline
monitor next to it over a workbench, and the IV pole. He follows the tube
of the IV bag to the nook of his arm as a needle has been injected into
the flesh. His other hand’s index is prickled by a blue pulse oximeter.
But what gives him the crawly feeling is the spoken itch in the crown of
his penis. He peels the cover off and finds a rubber tube inserted into
his meatus and connected to a PVC urine bag which is attached to the
bed frame below the level of his bladder. He knows better than to mess
with any of the equipment, especially the one inserted into his meatus,
but a nagging feeling deep within him is upping him to break free from
these tubes and needles and walk out of that door. He knows he isn’t in
a hospital. Even the scent of bleached floors and bed sheets couldn’t
fool him. He also knows that if he isn’t in a hospital it only means the
worst of his nightmares has happened, and he’s being held in here for
someone’s entertainment.

He plugs the needle out of his arm with a croaked hiss. The prickling
oximeter is annoying, so it goes next, but the tube inside the crown of
his cock is what makes him hesitate. He pokes at it to determine its
depth, but it proves it’s quite deep and even reaches his bladder. He
inhales in a shaken breath before pulling at it, feeling the discomfort of
the tube rubbing him from the inside, he eventually leaves it before he
hurts himself or causes an infection. But the urgency to leave here to
find his childhood friend and Sojin is far more insistent for him to
ignore, so he swings his legs out of bed and makes to stand up. The
room soon spins inside his head and he forces his eyes closed, willing
the dizziness away. He decides he doesn’t have time to play patient as
he holds on to every inanimate object on his way and skids towards the
door with the urine bag in his hand.
He doesn’t care that he isn’t wearing anything. He doesn’t even care
that a tube is dangling along with his penis. He only wants to get out.
His unoccupied hand clutches at the door handle and presses it. It
opens with an ominous creak. Outside, Chanyeol is standing there,
looking back at him with cold eyes. Baekhyun recoils from the door,
from the other man, from his eyes. He backs away very carefully as
Chanyeol, dressed in a lab coat, walks in.

“So you’re up.” He drawls, the hints of a coming smirk are slowly
revealing. “Took your sweet time too.”

Baekhyun stills when he is far enough, but the uneasiness doesn’t ebb
as Chanyeol’s loafers clack the planked floor when he approaches him.

“Where are Hongbin and Sojin?” Baekhyun asked in a shaky breath.

“Where am I?”

Chanyeol twists the corners of his lips and tilts his head, but the
movement is so fleeting before he speaks again. “For someone who
almost died, you sure sound healthy.” He ignores the horrified stare
aimed at him as he shrugs, spinning his index clockwise in the room.
“This is your new home.”

Alright, Baekhyun gets this part, and as sick as it sounds he only ignores
it because fuck you, you sick bastard. Baekhyun is going to leave this
place and will make Chanyeol swallow his words when he torches this
place down. “Where’s my friend?” He shoots the other a derisive glare
when a sudden memory of Hongbin’s crying picks at his brain.
“Now, now,” Chanyeol relents, thrusting his hands into his lab pockets.
“How about you go back to bed?” He suggests. “I don’t know if those
shaky legs of yours can carry you anymore. I bet you’re feeling quite
groggy and–”

“Don’t fuck with me!” Baekhyun berates, fumingly.

The calm expression over Chanyeol’s face morphs into one which he
can’t read: void and titles trouble. Chanyeol draws closer thus making
Baekhyun back away from him again until the two are cut short by the
bed. Baekhyun’s eyes are on Chanyeol’s cold ones all the way, on edge.
Studying any changing signs that might tell him he’s reached the end of
his life. Chanyeol crouches only slightly and uses a hand to probe
Baekhyun’s inner thigh; the latter flinches from the fingers brushing
against his skin. He pushes Chanyeol off when he feels he is being
pressed down.

“Get your filthy hands off me!” Baekhyun yelps through a strained voice.

“Stop moving.” Chanyeol orders, “I need to unclip the catheter.”

Baekhyun sits motionless with his legs spread open at the edge of the
bed. Chanyeol kneels by them after putting on disposable gloves. He
resumes his work, and Baekhyun only watches. He is aware of the fact
that he doesn’t want this man anywhere near him, but the image of him
haring off between the trees when he makes a run with a urine bag is a
lot more disturbing for him to allow. He watches as Chanyeol closes the
valve of the bag because there isn’t any urine to empty. Baekhyun
assumes that’s most likely because he wet his pants during his seizure.
Chanyeol takes out a syringe from his pocket and pushes it into some
port. Baekhyun watches intently as water begins to fill in the syringe.
“I need you to relax.” Chanyeol suddenly requests as he disposes of the
gloves along with the urine bag and the syringe. “I’m removing the
catheter now.”

Baekhyun sits up properly, not anticipating pulling out a four or five

inches tubing into his bladder. But he bears with it when one of
Chanyeol’s gloved hands holds his cock, and the other gently pulls on
the catheter. Baekhyun hisses at first, he lifts his eyes just briefly but
when he finds Chanyeol’s wide eyes studying his grimaced face with
something akin to hunger, Baekhyun’ blood freezes. Chanyeol pulls on
the tube more, the movement driving Baekhyun to shift to try to pull
away from the burning sensation.

“Stay still.” Chanyeol’s voice is so velvety. “You might end up with

internal injuries if you don’t.”

Baekhyun would rather jump off a cliff that overlooks a U-shaped valley
of cactuses than obey a murderer’s order, but the thought of internal
injuries inside his bladder, or worse, his penis, isn’t very appealing, so
he eventually acquiesces. The burning sensation remains only
temporary before it leaves him completely when Chanyeol manages to
remove all of the tube. He straightens up, taking off the second pair of
gloves now and inspecting Baekhyun’s clinked face. “You’re gonna feel
uncomfortable the next time you take a leak but you won’t have to
endure it for too long. It eases off after a couple of days.” He says,
“Also, it’s normal if you see some blood in your urine, you don’t have to
panic.” Saying so, he gathers the dispersed supplies and makes for the
door.

“I asked you a question.” Baekhyun says after the man, who pauses
midway until he words his question again. “Where’s my friend?”
Chanyeol doesn’t give the other the answer he wants nor does he spare
him a glance as he opens the door and closes it after he is outside.
Baekhyun hears the clanging of keys before he picks on its final click.
So he’s being locked in, not that he didn’t expect it. Chanyeol is being
so darn stupid leaving him alone with all these equipment that he sure
as hell can use as an alternate for a key. He tugs at the needle of the IV
tubing and plucks it out. He looks around for something to replace a
wrench but eventually makes for the door when he finds none. He
kneels by the door and starts picking the lock, but the realization leaves
him out of breath when he finds another object inserted into the lock
from the other side. He soon understands that Chanyeol has left the
keys inside the hole so that Baekhyun couldn’t open it from the inside.

Baekhyun slumps on the door, defeated. He’s been outsmarted again.

Chanyeol always has the upper hand in everything, and it makes him
feel like he is being drifted into the other’s pace whether he likes it or
not, which he loathes. He loathes the man. Everything he does or says
is loathsome. He killed his friends, and God knows what else he did to
Hongbin and Sojin.

Baekhyun had come to discover an indoor bathroom when he found a

camouflaged white knob blending with the same color of the walls. The
bathroom was small and plain with a sink, a flush toilet and a shower
faucet, nothing for him to use as a weapon for when his escape plan
kicks off, because it will, by God Baekhyun will make it.

The keys jingle, a sound that sends a tremor of queasiness through

Baekhyun’s body. Then the door to the room opens again, and Chanyeol
saunters in without a lab coat this time. He is pushing a service trolley
lined with a few dishes of food and a few cups. Baekhyun walks out of
the bathroom, his steps calculated and careful as he approaches the
bed.
“Don’t be so stiff,” Chanyeol said with a smirk after he eyes the naked
man from head to toe with a pair of entertained eyes.

Baekhyun’s brows twitch a tiny bit before he braces himself some more,
tensing with apprehension and caution.

“Well, not that I care.” Chanyeol shrugs when there is nothing

forthcoming, now pushing his hands into his pocket. He adds “brought
you some food, think you can keep it down?”

Baekhyun hardens his glare. “Where’s Hongbin?”

Chanyeol lets out a small sigh before rolling his eyes, “Counter-question
me again and see what happens.” He says it so flippantly but the threat
is evident and daunting in there that Baekhyun knows better than to
overlook it. Chanyeol’s eyes then fall on the mess Baekhyun made after
he woke up. “You still haven’t cleaned that up,” at this, he beckons to
the vomit beside the bed’s foot with his head. Baekhyun glances over at
it fleetingly before looking back at Chanyeol, “I better not find it next
time I’m here, or you’re gonna be cleaning it with your tongue.”

Baekhyun believes him to be psychotic enough to do it, make him clean

his vomit with his tongue, so he makes an innate note to cleanse it after
Chanyeol leaves. As yielding and as appeasing as that sounds,
Baekhyun doesn’t think cleaning something he cast from his stomach
with his tongue would be any less humiliating, so if he is to choose
between the less of two evils, damn straight he’ll choose to keep his
tongue clean.
They hold eye contact for a brief moment before Chanyeol nears the
bed, his sharp eyes never leaving Baekhyun’s, and neither is
Baekhyun’s. Chanyeol takes his hands out of his pockets and sits at the
edge of the bed, a leg crossing over the other as he smiles thinly. His
movements are smooth and gracious that if Baekhyun didn’t witness
the gory decapitation with his own eyes, he’d have seriously mistaken
this psycho for royalty.

“Come here,” he pats the edge of the bed, “sit.”

“You must really have a screw loose if you think I’ll do anything you tell
me,” Baekhyun scoffs, the vehemence in his eyes is more spoken now
that he has Chanyeol’s complete attention. “I don’t want you anywhere
near me, and I don’t want to be anywhere near you either.”

Chanyeol’s smile drops and his hand precipitously darts to Baekhyun’s.

The latter gasps and before he gets to recoil it he is being pulled and
pushed to the bed, he lands on it with a deep grunt. Chanyeol is
straddling him in a millisecond, his hands on his neck, squeezing the
jutted veins back in. Baekhyun’s eyes snap open, red-rimmed and
belligerent.

“Let me lay it out for you real clear,” Chanyeol sing-songs, his hair
parachuting over Baekhyun’ face, and his eyes… they’re wicked. “You
seem to be under the erroneous impression that I give a flying fuck
about what you want. I don’t.” He shrugs in matter-of-factly, his hands
squeezing more as Baekhyun’s tap and scratch at them to mitigate the
pressure down a little. “I own you now. Your life is mine to command,
either I kill you or let you live is my decision to make.” He says, “You
have privileges now because I see it fit, but the second you become
trouble I’m getting rid of you without a thought.”
Baekhyun’s eyes are looking up now but more horrified than daring, he
considers the other’s words for what they are, a threat he concludes.
But Chanyeol has some other things to add so he’d end the deal as he
ducks in, his nose almost touching Baekhyun’s.

“Be a good boy now and do as I say,” He drones almost in a whisper,

“that is if you still want to see your friend.”

Baekhyun’s heart gives a vigorous throb before it settles down, “Is he

alright?” His voice is strained because Chanyeol’s fingers are still
pressing on his neck. “Can I see him?”

“Yes, and no.” Chanyeol smiles playfully now, and then he falls silent all
of a sudden.

Baekhyun feels the pressure on his neck building more, suffocating. He

can feel his veins protesting and popping across his temples as his face
grows redder in the shade. “L-let me…” but the hands on his windpipe
press impossibly too much, and Baekhyun knows that if it entails
strenuous effort to breathe, then he only has seconds before he blacks
out. He lifts his leg to knee the other in the crotch, but Chanyeol’s angle
isn’t quite that off his waist, so he ends up flailing his leg in the air to no
avail. Beyond his shallow breathing, he can hear Chanyeol’s deep and
prolonged pants, and much to his dismay, a hard-on is slowly growing in
size over his hip. He glares through slanted eyes which are slowly being
blurred, and he describes a trace of malevolence in Chanyeol’s eyes
that want nothing in the world but to hurt him and enjoy every bit of it.

Finally, Chanyeol’s hands release him and Baekhyun inches in on

himself, coughing and inhaling all at once. His brain finally getting some
much-needed oxygen and his tendons relaxing, barely anyway.
“Now. Food.” Chanyeol chants, he pulls away and sits beside Baekhyun
who sits up with a hardly contained wince. Those cold fingers that have
been choking breath out of him will certainly bruise, and it might be
hard to swallow for the next couple of days too. Chanyeol brings the
trolley nearer so he’d pick the dishes without having to go through the
trouble of stretching to change between meals. “Let’s go with
something easy to stomach,” he says, picking out a bowl of stew, “your
seizure was kinda rough, and you took quite the bashing to your head.”

“I wonder whose fault is that,” Baekhyun presses his lips together to

feign a smile, but it’s all sarcasm-heavy.

It earns him a furious glare, but then Chanyeol drags on, intentionally
ignoring the remark. “That’s why I pumped you heavy on
anticonvulsants.” He fills up a spoon from the delicious smelling stew
and aims it to Baekhyun’s mouth. The latter cocks a brow, getting fed by
a killer, whose hands must be covered in blood from all the people he’s
ended and found pleasure in, is not particularly at the forefront of
Baekhyun’s to-do list. However, after what he’s just heard about his
friend being fine, Baekhyun fights past this enormous temptation to
snap the spoon from Chanyeol and stab it into his eyes, and then he
parts his lips. Chanyeol feeds him down to half a bowl when Baekhyun
finally pulls away, full.

“I’m leaving the table here,” Chanyeol informs, placing the bowl back
into the said trolley. “And you’d better clean that mess before I come
back.” Saying so, he heaves as he pushes up to his feet, his hard-on
has long since calmed down, and Baekhyun is grateful for that.
Chanyeol leisurely saunters out of the room.

Baekhyun scrutinizes the door, and the click of the lock doesn’t escape
him too. He looks at this from all sides: Chanyeol’s mood swings that
switch when it’s convenient for him, how the volatile attitude is
righteously affecting Baekhyun and the bruises on his neck stand as a
discernible proof. He knows he can’t be part of Chanyeol’s house play,
playing pet for a murderer isn’t even that fun. It’s not supposed to be
enjoyable and damn it Baekhyun gets that, but he’s doomed if he
doesn’t play along. He’s banking on this to get him a friends’ reunion
with Hongbin and Sojin, hopefully soon too because this entire play is
ridiculous. He glances over at the mess of grilled fish and roasted meat
he made on the floor, and the stench of ailing bile finally gets to him, so
he rises to his feet, uses a towel he saw hanging onto a well-installed
rack inside the bathroom. He dips it good in water and makes to clear
the floor with it.

An undetermined time goes by with him lying on the headboard of the

bed and staring blankly at the door.

He doesn’t know what day it is, what time it is. He’s certainly noticed the
temperature drop and is hoping October is finally bringing some rain
and cold.

It’d be all right if Hongbin was receiving the same treatment. Well,
minus the throttling and the threatening, getting delicious food and
having his own bathroom would be more than enough, thank you. They
could figure out the rest later. What matters now is to stay in shape,
especially in Baekhyun’s case. Although Chanyeol said he gave him
plenty of anticonvulsants, it still doesn’t stop the crushing possibilities
that it might take a U-turn to the worst and he falls to the ground,
seizing. The last one must have been pretty bad, he guesses, the egg-
sized bump in the back of his head is like a traffic neon sign providing a
vivid depiction of what must have gone down. It’s all the more reason
he makes sure this pans out in their favor. He knows it’s not going to be
easy, especially if he doesn’t know what became of Sojin and his friend.
Maybe it was selfish of him to ask about his friend and leave out Sojin,
but it’s not like Chanyeol –if that’s really his name, was handing
detailed reports back in. The sick man barely gave him anything
concrete, too. It’d be lies for all Baekhyun knows, and maybe…
everyone else is dead.
Being realistic hurts.

But the circumstances contrast with the speculations his dead friends
used to make and as such, had no basis in reality. But Baekhyun knows
more now, he isn’t being kept in the dark and oblivion about who the
enemy and ally are. He knows the murders, and he knows his friends,
all they need now is a plan.

He wakes up startled when delicate fingers glide down his neck. The
bed sheets rustle harshly as Baekhyun withdrawals from Chanyeol's
touch. “What’ you doing?” He says over an audible gulp because those
bruises ache, his voice is warring with indignation.

Chanyeol lifts placating hands but keeps on sitting on the bed with his
legs crossed on one another. “You’re a bit ripe,” he says, “take a
shower.”

Something is reeling within Baekhyun, willing him to keep away from

those caring words and gentle fingers, to see past them at the
malicious smirk and the bemused eyes. Baekhyun flings the cover aside
and gets out of bed. He can feel Chanyeol's eyes on his body,
gluttonizing him with an enormous appetite. It’s unnerving, and
Baekhyun finds himself bolting to the bathroom as fast as his legs can
carry him.

“Don’t.” The order is coming, soft-spoken but intimidating. “Don’t close

the door.”

“What,” Baekhyun swivels around to face the other, “I’m not entitled to
my privacy now?”
The icy glare Chanyeol shoots him is enough to silence Baekhyun, and
he knows he better save that dash of condescension to himself. He
retreats immediately and skids into the bathroom without a second
complaint. As the water flushes down on his naked body, steamy and
warm, Baekhyun brings his hand to his neck, barely ghosting over the
skin and a powerful memory of Chanyeol's cold fingers touching him
replays without his consent. Rage almost blinds him on the spot. He
wouldn’t know what to do if Chanyeol decided this amount of touching
wasn’t enough, if he suddenly woke up the next day wanting to do more
than touch? It’s not that far-fetched possibility and Baekhyun is
probably having the crisis of his life because his friends' survival and his
depend on this but he doesn’t know if he’d be able to sit tight if
Chanyeol took it up a few notches and decided raping his brains out
was certifiable. When he gets out thoroughly soaked, he finds Chanyeol
still sitting on the bed with his legs crossed. He cocks his head with a
pair of baffled eyes announcing his confusion. “Provided that I left a
towel in there for you, why the heck are you dripping wet?”

“Oh, that.” Baekhyun clicks his tongue, “used it to clean up the floor.”

Chanyeol hums, now uncrossing his legs as he stands up very slowly.

“Well, that’s some slapdash attitude from a smartass like you.” Saying
so, he draws nearer to Baekhyun whose frames tense evidently hard.
“You know,” Chanyeol starts once he halts a breath away from
Baekhyun, the latter feels the other’s body heat oozing abundantly and
putting into consideration his damp skin and the awful drop in
temperature. Baekhyun almost slops into the radiant warmth. Chanyeol
brings up a hand and the other eyes it with visible trepidation, but only
the fingernails tap at the skin of his upper arm, sliding up and down
ever so gently. “You seem to lack discipline.”

“And you seem to lack a heart.” Baekhyun counters, a mix of sarcasm

and admonishment tolling his tone.
“It’s not that I lack a heart per se,” Chanyeol shrugs offhandedly, “I’m
just impervious to any sob story I’m told while I cut into the flesh.”

Baekhyun fists his hands, the logical side of him tells him it’d all end for
the worst if he hooks that stunning fist to Chanyeol’s nose, but darn
every other fiber in him is rooting for him to do it. “Huh,” he scoffs, “I
gotta hand it to you though, your perseverance is quite acute.”

“Well, there you have it–” Chanyeol glides those fingers to the area
under Baekhyun' left ear, kneading sensually. The movement
deliberately stalled. Although he’d like to secrete this from every living
soul, Baekhyun can at least admit to himself that little flutter of his eyes
when he fleetingly drowned in the sensation. “–Source of my
dedication.” Chanyeol finishes lightly; it’s unassertive to add
genuineness to his statement.

“What’ you want from me?” Baekhyun suddenly blares, his brows
meeting in a frown. “Why are you keeping me here?”

Chanyeol clicks his lips as though he’s been asked this countless times
already that it’s starting to work on some of his nerves that would rather
decapitate than give a legitimate answer. The fingers rubbing along
Baekhyun’ neckline have paused and the latter fears the onset of a full-
blown verbal lambasting, or worse, a machete to his neck. But Chanyeol
soon recovers from whatever anger that’s managed to slip in, and he
gives another one of his slight smiles. His fingers cupping Baekhyun’s
shoulder now to propel him, “Get on your knees.”

“The fuck I am,” Baekhyun slaps the hand on his shoulder away and
steps back, his eyes defiant.
Chanyeol’s expression turns grim, and he looks unsympathetically
bored stiff with life, his eyes droopy and he rolls them again. “We can
compromise.” He starts, “you either go on your knees, or I make you.”

Baekhyun’s tongue snakes to wet his parched lips. He has to flee away.
He has to escape from this human pile of psychosis and insanity now
that his dignity is still intact. The door to the room suddenly opens again
and the machete guy bursts in wearing a bloody butcher’s apron.
“Chanyeol.” He says, his eyes searching Baekhyun’s body and his
defensive posture. Chanyeol turns his head to the man, and Baekhyun
latches at the opportunity. He dashes to the door, but Chanyeol is
quicker as he takes an iron grip on Baekhyun’s elbow and pulls him
back to him, the latter squirms, doing his hardest to rip off of the other’s
ridiculously strong grip. He hears Chanyeol curse beneath his breath
before something stings under his earlobe. Baekhyun snaps his eyes
open and looks at the syringe Chanyeol’s just injected him with as he
tosses it aside. He immediately lets go of Baekhyun who is groaning as
a burning sensation spreads from the needle mark, he cups it and
sashays away from Chanyeol again, his eyes roam about the room as he
pants, wincing in between.

Chanyeol adjusts his dress shirt and the sleeves, his movements are
firm and brisk. “Do I always have to do everything myself?” at this, he
looks at the man standing by the door. “Get lost, nosy old so-and-so.
And don’t think it’s over, I’m dealing with you after this.”

The man bows his head and quickly leaves, closing the door after him.

“Now,” Chanyeol lets out a little sigh that the hindrance is gone. “I’d like
you to get on the bed.”
Baekhyun is still clutching at his neck and moaning, the excruciating
pain is gradually becoming unbearable as it spreads to his head. “What
the hell did you inject me with?”

“What did I tell you about counter-questions?” He reminds, a slight

degree of indignation creeping in his tone. He walks up to the other who
is too absorbed in his pain to flinch away from him. He grips a fistful of
Baekhyun’s brown strands, yanking his head back so their eyes can
meet. “You see, I lied when I said I was a med student.” He smiles
cheekily, “I’m a neurologist, a Harvard graduate too, Baek.” He snorts
derisively, “I have to say, you’re quite the lucky bastard because I might
be able to help you with your epilepsy.”

At this, Baekhyun shoots him a fiery glare. And instead of crunching

under its heat, Chanyeol rejoices outwardly.

“Come on now,” he trills hintingly, “you’re gonna make me hard if you

keep looking at me like that.”

Baekhyun would have spat in the other’s face if it wasn’t for the
involuntary cry of pain that escapes his mouth, resonant and miserable.
Chanyeol parts his lips and scowls, “fuck” he breathes out, “Do it
more.”

Baekhyun staggers and forges through the wavy shapes within his
eyeshot. He holds on with a hand to the frame of the bed before he
dives to the floor nose first. His other hand is clutching at his hair, trying
to will the pain to ease off. He can feel his entire body being assaulted
with painful tremors and he feels absolutely helpless not knowing how
to stop it. Just what did Chanyeol inject him with? He looks towards said
man with his own bleary eyes and almost yelps at the hungry pupils
watching him with such keen fixation. Another tremor vibrates across
his body and Baekhyun mewls with pain. But his eyes never leave
Chanyeol’s as the latter palms his crotch faintly, the enigmatic
expression veiling his face drives Baekhyun over the edge.

“I’d get on the bed if I were you,” Chanyeol suddenly offers, “here’s a
pretty brief closure. It’s a handmade magical potion, so to speak.” He
starts, “It’s a liquefied substance with a tiny chemical formula that
causes friction within your neurons. It won’t kill you, but it’s an
equivalent to a pain inducer, so you’re gonna feel pretty crappy for the
next twenty minutes or so.” He simpers, looking pleased with his
handiwork.

Baekhyun tries to quickly fathom the idea of getting injected with a

chemical substance that would sure as hell give him cancer in the long
run, but then the question remains, “why?”

Chanyeol scoffs as if he never expected this kind of reaction, “Now

that’s a stupid question to ask, Baekhyun.” He shakes his head,
disbelieving of the reaction. He eventually crouches beside his captive,
their eyes on each other’s, “you see, cutting into the flesh used to bring
me so much pleasure, but I’ve grown out of it.” He shrugs, “it bores
me.” Now a smirk lithers his lips, “and then I saw you seize…” he snorts,
a little admiringly if Baekhyun cared to analyze, but then he decides
against finishing his sentence and only makes do with touching
Baekhyun’ sweaty forehead, “just let it happen.” He says in an
undertone, “Cry out more for me and make me cum.”

Baekhyun isn’t fragile as to let Chanyeol have his way with him so he
swipes the other’s hand, and coils up, holding on to the bed frame until
the color leaves his knuckles. Chanyeol doesn’t let him though as he
hoists him up and pushes him to the bed. They both bounce with the
impact.
Baekhyun turns to lie on his right, clutching at both sides of his head as
he moans. Chanyeol only watches. A few minutes go by with Baekhyun
withering more and more and then something changes, the degree of
pain maybe. Baekhyun is shouting his lungs out as his neurons get
marred within him. He cries out and thrashes, still clutching at his head
with both hands as tears stream down his eyes. “M-make it…” he lets
out another anguished cry “make it stop!”

“Yeah… ” Chanyeol moans but it’s influenced by irrepressible pleasure.

“Makes me feel good.”

“Stop…” Baekhyun rasps out as the ability to communicate leaves him.

His insides must be crumpling under the onslaught because the pain is
no longer bearable. He only stares blankly and moans to protest against
the pain. He feels Chanyeol kneel beside him, more rustling, a zipper
undoes, and Chanyeol is soon panting. Baekhyun hears a wet sound of
sticky meats flapping against one another. It only takes him that much
to put two and two together and finally come out with the horrifying
realization that Chanyeol is masturbating. Another painful wave hits
him, and he arches his back, moaning under the assault. Above his
cloud of pain and hurt, he hears Chanyeol’s panting picking up as well
as does the sticky sound of him rubbing his cock off. Baekhyun never
thought he’d be thankful for feeling pain, but now that he can’t see
Chanyeol jerking off, he does feel grateful, or else the image would have
scarred his eyes for years to come. He eventually prays his pain could
stop or he’d end up with some mental disability. Someone up there
actually hears his prayers and then he is slowly drowning in darkness.
Chapter Four

Baekhyun feels the burn of the IV on the nook of his arm before he
hears the intermittent beeps. Though, he hears something else.
Someone is talking, and that deep voice can’t be mistaken. It’s what’s
become Baekhyun’s nightmare as of late: Park Chanyeol. But he is also
talking to someone else, a woman by the sound of it. Baekhyun forges
between the haziness just to open his heavy lids, but all he manages is
a groan. The voices fall silent, and he groans more but other than that,
he doesn’t do anything.

The next time, he wakes up to someone shaking him. He hears the

same voice of the woman rousing him from his comfortable yet
dreamless sleep. He forces himself to open those damn eyes, and
among the foggy dots, he sees a woman peering down worriedly at him.

“If…he was… your friend…”

Her voice is muffled, but Baekhyun knows it’s his ears that are plugged
with his own sleepiness and drowsiness. And what’s that about his
friend? As the realization sinks in, his eyes shoot open and he hears the
bits after she starts getting frenzy, looking at him and switching to look
at the door behind her.

“Oh, Chanyeol took him to the room at the end of this hallway.”

Baekhyun feels the onset of a migraine, but he ignores it in favor of

hearing what this wide-eyed woman has to say.

“He keeps him there.” She says, “You have to save him and leave this
place!”

“Who are you?” Is what pops into Baekhyun’s head, but it’s a little
slurred. He hopes she got the meaning at least. “Why are you helping?”

“I’m Chanyeol’s personal assistant.” She whispers urgently, “Please.”

She looks at the door and then back at Baekhyun again. “You need to
get away. He’s getting out of control!”

Baekhyun’s hazel eyes finally focus, and his heart starts beating faster.

“He’s leaving for a meeting this afternoon,” she informs him hastily.
“You’d better leave then!”

The door to the room suddenly flies open and the nightmarish man
saunters in with his hands in his pockets, giving absolutely no care to
the world. That arrogant smile is doing strange things to Baekhyun’s
anger. He pauses by the bed and faces Baekhyun.
“What’ you still doing here?” He addresses the woman but his eyes
never leave Baekhyun’s.

The woman fidgets and fumbles with the IV pole, “Oh” she stutters, “I
was just checking on his vitals. After the head scan, I’m quite worried
that–”

“Get out.” He cuts her off with the crude order.

She nods, and her eyes fall on Baekhyun’s. He follows her movement as
she hums her understanding and scurries out of the room, her boots
tapping on the plank. And then it’s just him and Chanyeol in the room
again and the deafening silence.

“So you finally came to,” Chanyeol remarks, relaxingly.

“Not thanks to you.” Baekhyun counters.

As he focuses on Chanyeol’s hands so that if he brings up a syringe

suddenly he would see it, Baekhyun notices another thing. The white
sleeved shirt he is currently wearing and the black sweatpants.

Apparently, Chanyeol picks up on those thoughtful eyes that are

currently scanning his body.

“They’re clothes,” He scorns. “I’m sure they don’t bite.”

Baekhyun looks away from his clothes, “I’m sure they don’t.” His words
are insidious despite the triviality of the expression.

Chanyeol cocks a brow and soon takes his hands out of his pockets,
“There have been massive temperature drops lately, as you may have
noticed.” He starts, skulking soundlessly closer to the bed. “And I can’t
exactly allow a heater into the room, so I thought to myself what the
best alternative is.” Saying so, he slowly sits down on the bed and
crosses his legs. “Clothes.” He beams.

Baekhyun scoffs and unconsciously skids to the headboard, away from

those predatory eyes that seem to desperately want to hide under the
beam and the nonchalant behavior. “And here I thought you finally had
a personality transplant,” he starts. “Guess this is just a new level of
your assholery.”

Chanyeol’s beam disappears.

Baekhyun winces inwardly, and for some reason, he can’t take his eyes
off Chanyeol. For a moment he thinks maybe this is what they call
'paralyzing fear.'

“Keep the levity coming,” He tilts his head, “it might cost you a little
something though.” And when Baekhyun only twitches his brows at him,
Chanyeol licks his upper lip and leans into Baekhyun’s space; he places
a couple of fingers over his captive’s jawline. “Say a hand maybe, your
tongue. Maybe I’ll chop off both your arms.”

Baekhyun eyes the cold smirk with a pair of terrified eyes and the
heartbeats in his ears are so loud he almost hears nothing. He wants to
slap the hand on his face away. He wants to kick Chanyeol off and
make a run for it but his entire body is twitching with blatant fear.

“Oh I know,” Chanyeol’s face suddenly lightens up with a creepy smile.

“How about another dose of that pain inducer?”

Anything but that, Baekhyun shakes his head frantically and darn he
knows he has just played right into his captor's hands, given him the
leverage he needs to break him if he so chooses. He wants to call for a
do-over, but he knows nothing will deter Chanyeol from his vigilance.

“Though another dose of that might liquefy your brain, but you get the
point.” Chanyeol shrugs.

“Yeah I do, I mean your face is kinda telling me that loud and clear.”
Baekhyun mutters, grouchily.

Chanyeol’s eyes widen, “You obviously don’t,” he says, almost

disbelievingly. “You really have the attention span of a happy dog.”

Baekhyun bears with the brunt of the insult and remains silent.

“I’d like to try something different today,” Chanyeol sighs and takes it to
the topic Baekhyun is so adamantly trying to avoid. “But I need you fit
as a fiddle for this, so go on, take a shower first.”

“What’s that you sick fuck?” Baekhyun’ mouth opens again, ready to
utter another bout of colorful curses when Chanyeol’s hand comes up
out of thin air and clutches his hair. Baekhyun winces audibly this time
around as he gets pulled towards the man before him.

“Now that’s a potty mouth you have!” Chanyeol sing-songs, gripping

tightly on the smooth strands and enjoying the little-stifled winces
Baekhyun makes under his assault. “What? You were raised in a barn
or something?”

Baekhyun’s eyes finally fall on Chanyeol’s, and the amusement in them

doesn’t go unnoticed. Baekhyun then grits his teeth and glowers at the
other. “You wanted me to take a shower, didn’t you?” He reminds, his
hands coming up to the one clutching his hair despite the change in
altitude. “Then let go.”

Chanyeol doesn’t say anything for quite the pause. “Now,” he scoffs.
“You act as though I’m under your command. Are you just dumb or are
you trying my patience for real?” He gives Baekhyun’s head a hefty
shove. “Because last time I checked, I was the one who brought you
here, so I am the one who has authority over you.”

Give Baekhyun one reason why he shouldn’t spit in this fucker’s face.

“You’re gonna have to play by my rules if you ever want to get outta
here.” He says, now hauling Baekhyun’s head to the back so their noses
can touch. “But for now, you’re mine.” His smirk deepens evilly. “You’re
my little bitch in every sense of the word.”

Their eyes roam in each other’s, defiantly from Baekhyun’s part, but
maliciously from Chanyeol’s.
Baekhyun caves in than hollering ‘in your dreams’, he knows that at this
point, it’s an authority thing. Chanyeol seems like the type who doesn’t
like to be told what to do or how. He likes to play in his own rules and
gladdens when his rivals follow on his pace. Baekhyun doesn’t cave in
because he’s scared… well he is that too, but he doesn’t retaliate
because, in spite of everything, Chanyeol still has leverage. With one
wrong word, Baekhyun can doom his childhood friend and Sojin–if she’s
still alive.

He starts to feel the pressure on his hair lessen, and he can finally
move more freely. Without a complaint, Baekhyun sits up. Annoyed with
the constant perfusion, he rips out the IV needle from the perforated
hole on the nook of his arm that’s starting to bleed now gradually. He
unclips the pulse oximeter from his thumb next and finally swings his
legs out of bed. When he walks into the bathroom, he remains sentient
about Chanyeol big dislike for closed doors, especially the bathroom, so
he leaves it ajar. After he takes his new clothes off and hangs them on
the towel rack, he stands under the shower head, turns on the faucet,
and waits for the hot water to regenerate.

The bathroom is soon steaming with misty steam, and the humidity
comes in the spurts of spray droplets on the walls. Baekhyun kneads
his scalp and enjoys the impact of water on his porcelain skin.
Suddenly, novel hands rest on his hips, and Baekhyun makes a clipped
noise of horror as his body freezes. Chanyeol is standing right behind
him, his breath coming onto Baekhyun’s nape, hot and shuddering.

“What…” The words are bewitched to remain unspoken, and Baekhyun

feels the powerlessness hitting him on blast.

Chanyeol’s mouth touches Baekhyun’s left ear, and the hands on the
hips start to glide down towards Baekhyun’s groin. “Such a lush body.”
He comments into Baekhyun’s ear. “I saw you lying there on bed,” he
purrs. “You make me want to do things to you…” His hands ghost over
Baekhyun’s cock. “Inflict unimaginable pain on your delicate skin, carve
it with a scalpel, and enjoy hearing you scream.”

Baekhyun shrivels up under the haunting words. He knows no man

should hear this and feel glee, but his treacherous body is starting to
react, and his cock is embarrassingly twitching in response to the boner
poking his ass. Chanyeol then licks a spot behind Baekhyun’s ear and
just as suddenly, he fists his cock and the latter lets out a startled yelp.

“You made me weird!” Chanyeol bellows, his hand jerking off the
captured cock relentlessly.

Baekhyun braces two arms onto the wall before his knees fail him too.
His mouth is already letting out muffled moans, and his cock is enjoying
the rough treatment. One complaint and he’d sentence everyone to
death. But being sexually assaulted like this is not exactly a stroll in the
park either. This could turn out pretty bad for Baekhyun, and he’s old
enough to know the consequences.

He feels one of Chanyeol’s hands –the one that’s not occupied with
shaming him, starts to pull Baekhyun so he can lean back onto his
shoulder. Baekhyun isn’t practically lucid to fight him right now
especially with his orgasm looming in, so he lets Chanyeol do as he
pleases. He lets him manhandle him to lean back on him, his head on
the psycho’s broad shoulder. He feels Chanyeol’s breath coming ragged
onto his ear, and just like that, the last string that connects him to
sanity gets clipped, and Baekhyun is shooting his cum to the wall with a
prolonged whimper.

Baekhyun startles awake. He sits up abruptly and relaxes just a tiny bit
when he finds no one is in the room but him. He’s on the bed, already
dressed. So Chanyeol must have help putting the clothes back on him.
It’s not like it makes Baekhyun the least happy. The psycho went ahead
and touched him, who knows what else he did while Baekhyun was
unconscious. And the fact that Baekhyun didn’t feel the sick man
approaching him from behind in the bathroom stands proof that his
reflexes are getting rusty.

Just then, that mysterious woman’s words echo and Baekhyun jumps
up to his feet. He knows Chanyeol must have left the key attached to
the keyhole so he can’t use the IV needle to pick the lock, but then he
aims the bathroom and tears off some toilet paper. He makes for the
locked door and crouches beside it. He folds the papers very neatly, and
then he slides them under the door beneath the key’s level. He then
pokes the key by the IV needle and although he fails in the first two-
three attempts, the key eventually falls on the papers and doesn’t
clang. He then pulls the papers back inside again but very slowly,
careful not to make the key tip over. At last, he holds the key in his
hand. He quickly unlocks the door, peers out stealthily and luckily
there’s no one outside. It’s a long hallway. He thinks things are looking
up for him.

So the woman said that Hongbin is inside some room at the end of the
hallway, right? Baekhyun will free him and then the two will get out of
here and tell the police everything, and hopefully they’ll rescue their
friend Sojin. He swivels in all directions, his ears alert for any sound and
his eyes surreptitiously looking around him for any movement. The tiled
hallway finally comes to an end, and Baekhyun finds a wooden door
with a key sticking out. He guesses Chanyeol’s been doing the same
trick here too.

“Where’ you think you’re going?”

Baekhyun spins around so fast. Chanyeol is standing right behind him,

creeping on him like the undesirable darkness. Baekhyun backs away
and glues himself onto the door. There’s an amused look on Chanyeol’s
face, and Baekhyun looks at it with horror. Just then, someone else
walks into the hallway from a sliding door behind and she stands beside
Chanyeol. Her lab coat and her high heels tell Baekhyun she’s involved
in “medical something.” Baekhyun eyes them both as they eye him
back, but their gaze is more searching. And that’s when Baekhyun
remembers that woman she’s the same one who told him where his
friend was.

“Huh!” She chuckles behind her elegant fingers, “He really came to this
room.”

“Hannah,” Chanyeol says over his shoulder, but his eyes don’t steer
away from Baekhyun’s, “you told him to do this?”

“I thought you looked pretty bored and wanted to give you a little
something to play with. I didn’t think he was this gullible.” She laughs
now. “And he believed every word I said. That’s a foolish thing to do
considering I’m a stranger who introduced herself as Chanyeol’s
‘assistant.’”

Baekhyun’s heart bleeds.

Her laugh crescendo to a small chuckle, but it’s still sarcastic and
Baekhyun hates it.

Without his consent, Baekhyun’s hands ball into fists, and they pierce
the air, almost hitting Chanyeol’s cheek but the latter ducks just in time
to dodge the hit. His feet stretch forward to smash with Baekhyun’s
ankles, knocking him off balance. Baekhyun lands on his side and
quickly rotates his body to do a back-flip that Chanyeol admires. He
brings his hands up and instigates a come and get me gesture. Which
infuriates Baekhyun and he trudges on again in a full attack. Chanyeol
continues to dodge the blows, ending with a side smack to Baekhyun’s
neck. The latter totters to the ground, but Chanyeol forces him to his
feet.

“Finally,” he breathes out, amusement flashing across his features. “A

challenge!”

Baekhyun regains his composure and bunts the slightly taller man’s
nose with his head. It works, and Chanyeol eases his grip on his captive.
He bends over as blood drips from his nose and he suddenly vibrates
with a menacing laugh that has Baekhyun’s frame shaking. He looks up
and doesn’t even bother wiping the blood away. “I won’t go easy on
you.” He warns and gives Baekhyun no time to block as his fist
connects with his stomach and another blow to his cheek. Baekhyun is
wondering where such speed came from when a knee connects to his
lowered chest, knocking the breath out of him.

Baekhyun groans and clutches at his chest, coughing a little. Novel

fingers sneak between the smooth strands of his hair, and then they
clutch, yanking his head skyward so their eyes could meet.

Baekhyun is overcome by anger and hatred; he knows if his friend is

really inside this room then the only thing standing between him and
saving Hongbin is this psychopathic killer. He glares at him because he
loathes him. Chanyeol doesn’t look bothered by the look at all.

“The way you look at me…” He starts, tilting his head to submerge
himself in the look. “Your eyes so full of hate and scorn –it’s perfect.”
His eyes light up with something definitely evil as he smirks impishly.
“You’re turning me on.” At this, he palms him growing cock over the
fabric and the other hand yanks harder on Baekhyun’s hair.
“You sick bastard!” Baekhyun grits out, the metallic taste inside his
mouth is offering a whole range of possibilities that he doesn’t want to
face up right now. A bloody psycho getting aroused at his pain is enough
of a problem. “I’ll kill you myself when I get outta here.”

Chanyeol’s smirk widens. Baekhyun admits to himself that he doesn’t

appreciate that sort of smirk.

“So gallant.” The woman –Hannah if Baekhyun still remembers–

gushes.

Chanyeol licks his upper lip in a very sensual way. “See why I like my
new toy?”

Baekhyun seizes the other’s distraction, and he forges on, hitting his
captor’s cheek head-on. Chanyeol falls to the back, slamming shoulder-
first on the wall behind. Hannah panics for a millisecond, and she steps
out of Baekhyun’s way. The latter glares at her, silently threatening her
and apparently, she heeds his threat as she locks herself against the
wall. The moment Baekhyun turns the key of this room, his head gets
caught in something and then it slams against the wooden surface. He
slides down with a whine.

“Never do things in halves.” Chanyeol stands atop him, sweeping his

sleeve on the nosebleed.

Baekhyun then feels himself getting forced up to his feet again by the
back of his collar, but with the metallic tang over his tongue and the all
over strange sensation, he knows soon he won’t be coherent enough
even to pull a fight. He probably has only a couple of hours.
“I’ll leave you to your fun.” Hannah waves a lackadaisical hand before
heading back the way she came from. “Don’t break him too soon.”

Chanyeol suddenly pulls Baekhyun as they trudge to the latter’s ‘room’.

Chanyeol then eyes the papers beside the door and keeps his comment
to himself because Baekhyun is struggling and wrestling about. He
kicks the door shut and tosses Baekhyun onto the bed. The latter
succumbs to the headboard as Chanyeol tugs at his leg. Baekhyun
kicks the other’s hand off but Chanyeol isn’t having any of it as he slaps
Baekhyun across the cheek and much to his dismay, that’s the only
attack that makes his whole body freeze.

Chanyeol then stills and looks Baekhyun in the eyes. “The more you
struggle, the hornier I get.” He confesses, leering like the psycho he is.

“Shut up, shut your trap!” Baekhyun snarls, hiding his ears with two
shaky hands.

Chanyeol’s grip on Baekhyun’s ankles tightens, and soon he pulls him

brusquely, flipping him before he gets a chance to elbow him in the
face. Baekhyun’s breathing grows frantic, and he probes at the rumpled
bed sheets. His eyes open impossibly wide. “Let go!” He swipes at his
back because Chanyeol has just placed his body weight on him so he
wouldn’t turn. “Get off me you sick fuck!”

“What did I say about that potty mouth of yours, Huh?” Chanyeol
practically chirps, undoing his belt.

Baekhyun hears the zipper, and he almost throws his heart up.
Chanyeol can’t be thinking of… “I’ll kill you!” He wiggles as the veins pop
out along his neckline. “I’ll fucking kill you if you touch me!”
Chanyeol then captures his arms, and although Baekhyun pulls against
him, Chanyeol manages to tie them down with his belt.

“Untie me!” Baekhyun bellows, angry and scared.

“Now why would I do that?” Chanyeol sounds entertained, and then hot
fingers are sliding onto Baekhyun’s scalp, kneading with such care.
Chanyeol leans into Baekhyun’s ear. “Do you know why I tied your
hands?” He asks in a cold whisper.

“To rape me,” Baekhyun states in a matter-of-factly. “As expected of a

psychopathic killer like you.”

“Incorrect.” Chanyeol hums, his voice vibrates over Baekhyun’s back.

“I’m going to fuck your brains out.”

Baekhyun is fleetingly under the effect of the shudder that runs down
his spine without a break but then the words sink in, and he’s jerks his
hands to try to undo the belt. “Don’t you fucking dare, I’ll slit your throat
you sick bastard!”

His trackies get pulled down robustly, and then he’s being lifted from
his middle so that his ass is off the mattress. Baekhyun’s heart is
skyrocketing, and he knows this isn’t going to be a fun trip. Rape isn’t
supposed to be passionate, so if he can’t break free, he has to brace
himself for it.

“Provided that your cherry’s never been popped, I was planning to be–”
he cuts himself off with a low chuckle. “Who am I kidding, I was never
gonna be nice.” Saying so, he parts Baekhyun’s buttocks and
Baekhyun’s face pales. The color draining from his face. So he bucks
back, using his strength to fight the other off. Only, Chanyeol presses
against him and pins him down. He spits on his other hand before he
strokes his cock. But once he lines it along Baekhyun’s anus, the latter
panics and starts thrashing, not wanting to admit defeat although all
chances seem to go against him.

So he’s going to be raped by this psychopath? He’s never had anal

before. He never really had any interest in physical contact with others.
As his epilepsy became more frequent, he had to eventually forget
about the idea.

Now look at him, pinned down to the bed and about to get raped by a
man who relishes any signs of pain. A man who’s enjoyed watching
Baekhyun wither in pain more than once –that pain inducer. Baekhyun
won’t forget its effect as long as he lives.

A hand presses on the side of his face and immobilizes him as Chanyeol
pushes in, sliding in all the while, groaning under the feeling of tight
heat twitching around his cock.

Baekhyun wails in agony as bolts of pain spread out from the cock
tearing his flesh open. And instead of slowing down at Baekhyun’s
apparent discomfort, Chanyeol gets immersed in the hotness and the
tightness welcoming him as he keeps thrusting. At first, the unprepared
hole gives him trouble, and Chanyeol finds difficulty, but it’s nothing
more force won’t solve.

Baekhyun gives a garbled shout and the sensation of something liquid

seeping down his thighs makes his heart sink.
Chanyeol is enjoying the sound of his meaty balls slapping against
Baekhyun’s ass, but he savors his pained shouts even more.

Baekhyun’s eyes well up from the pain. He bites his bottom lip and only
focuses on breathing to distract from the pain as Chanyeol slams into
him hard and fast. It’s brutal, and if it wasn’t for the blood that’s placing
lube, that thing could have done some serious damage by now.
Chanyeol feels bored with Baekhyun only breathing, so he pounds him.
Baekhyun’s head lifts off the sheets and an indignant and hurts scream
leaves his lunges.

“That’s more like,” Chanyeol rejoices, gripping Baekhyun’s hair and

yanking the head. “The next time won’t be a ‘first’ so make sure to
entertain me.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Baekhyun grits out, his tears streaming down his
cheeks.

“I’m fucking you.” Chanyeol sneers, and he grinds against the other,
unfortunately feeling his climax looming in. Baekhyun mewls at the
contact, still trying to undo the ties because the pain is making his head
light and dizzy.

The nightmare is finally over, and Chanyeol pulls out after shooting his
load inside Baekhyun’s hole that’s twitching now as blood and sperm
spill out of the puffy entrance like lava. Baekhyun falls onto the sheets
without a sound, finally finding relief from pain. Chanyeol then yanks
the other’s head up again by the hair only to assault his neck, sucking
the skin so hard until a bruise blooms.

“You’re mine.”
Baekhyun registers the words with a fogged memory; every fiber in his
body is throbbing. Chanyeol then undoes the belt and leaves the bed.
Baekhyun feels the bed bounce just lightly, and then the door creaks
open and closes.

The fluorescent bulbs flicker above him, and Baekhyun’s fingers twitch.
There’s pain in his backside and will probably stay there for more days.
Baekhyun’s entire body is unmoving, even the hard suck on his neck
didn’t make him stir.

He’s heard of the rape of males before but never thought he’d be a
victim of sexual violence. This whole thing sucks. Things weren’t
supposed to be like this; they were supposed to be in Tokyo, having a
blast at 9nine concert. Ussop wasn’t supposed to get blown up, and
Franky wasn’t supposed to die like that. And instead of trying to save
his childhood friend, he’s spreading his legs for a man who doesn’t
have any humanity left in him.

Baekhyun nuzzles against the sheets but merely to wipe his tears since
his hands are too tired to move.

What if Hongbin’s also being treated violently like this, getting raped
and traumatized daily. Baekhyun sobs. He’s failed his friends. He’s
failed himself.

The only good thing that came out of his dry ass getting fucked royally is
that he now has only seconds before he passes out; thus he won’t have
to seize.
The constant buzzing of the overhead fluorescent tubes pulls Baekhyun
out of sweet oblivion.

His eyes flutter open, and he realizes nothing has changed from his
position from… he doesn’t even know what day it is, if it is night or
morning.

He’s still lying on his chest, with one hand resting beside his face and
the other beside his hip. And as he tries to move, excruciating pain
shoots from his backside, he hisses sharply and stills. He knows he’d
be stalling this painless state if he doesn’t move, but he feels he has
legitimately had enough of pain as it is. He tries to measure it because
he can feel substances he doesn’t want to name have dried on his skin
and he would like to get his body rid of it. One tiny rotation of his ass
and something liquid starts spilling down his inner thighs. The rage
would have sent him insane if it wasn’t for his hope flickering for his
friends, but how dare Chanyeol. That psycho bastard, how dare he do
this?

Baekhyun’s never felt this humiliated before.

And as he tries to sit up, snaking so he wouldn’t irritate his anus any
more than it’s already been done, more piercing pain reminds him of
the crime that’s taken place inside these ominous walls. His forehead
falls onto the bed sheets, and he pants, hissing and gasping as a
metallic-smelling liquid seeps out of his hole. “He tore me; he actually
tore me.” It’s a statement spoken in a harrowed tone. “The bastard. I’ll
kill him…” He clenches his fists on the sheets. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

The trek from his bed to the bathroom has worn Baekhyun out. He
lands shoulder-first on the door frame and things like feelings of disgust
and being a revolting defeatist start to engulf him and remind him of his
priorities. Which he’s done nothing to compartmentalize –how he’s
going to kill Chanyeol and how he’s going to save his friend… he has
done nothing but gets humiliated –raped by a man at his age! His head
feels faint at the harsh memory and bile spirals on the tip of his
stomach. He fights past the feeling because his bottom half is sore and
his inner thighs feel dry.

His entire body hurts.

He doesn’t even bother drying his hair as he wobbles back to the bed
and falls on it with a deep moan. Sparks of pain shoot through his body,
and he folds in on himself, hating the sensation that’s making him
nauseous. Although he thoroughly washed his body, every part of it
feels unclean. The worst part is that the pesky bleeding hasn’t stopped.
It’s not heavy, but it’s still there as a reminder.

Several bruises are covering his body, and he guesses most of them are
from him taking on his opponent in a one-sided fight, where Chanyeol
defeated him so easily that it’s laughable –the door to the room
suddenly opens. Baekhyun tries to sit up but every fiber in him becomes
taut by bolts of throbbing pain. The pungent perfume reaches Baekhyun
before its owner does. Baekhyun’s stomach starts to flip-flop, and his
eyes starts to widen, horrified.

The horse bit loafers click-clack, approaching the bed and then finally
stopping.

Baekhyun looks up at the silhouette of the man, his own eyes trembling.
And as the other lowers his head, crouching beside the bed, that brittle
smirk on his face makes Baekhyun’s entire body freeze.

“Turn over.”
Baekhyun forces his eyes shut because he doesn’t want to see the
other’s face, it’d only ignite the fighting spirit in him, but he’s too weak
right now for that. Besides, he was taken down so easily the previous
time. Baekhyun isn’t sure this time would be any different.

“I can’t examine you otherwise.”

Baekhyun’s shoulders flinch noticeably hard, but his eyes remain

closed. “Don’t touch me.”

“There’s probably some rectal bleeding,” Chanyeol says, “You really

don’t want it to get infected.”

“Who caused it in the first place?”

Chanyeol tips his head forward. “Point taken.” He nods. “Also, if you
backtalk to me again, I promise there’s going to be more than just an
anus fissure.”

Baekhyun’s eyes open. They tremble when the first thing they see is
Chanyeol’s dark eyes so close to his. He gulps and looks away, ignoring
those eyes and what possible darkness they hide. He lifts up very
slowly, still hissing every time he aggravates the wounds down below.

“It’s alright, don’t lift up.” Chanyeol adjusts his weight on his haunches.
“Lie down on your stomach.”
Baekhyun stills for a pause before he lies down again on his side, and
slowly turns over, burying his face into the pillow. He hears shuffling –
probably an indication that Chanyeol has changed his posture– and
then the edge of the bed tips with the newly added weight. His guess
was right.

Chanyeol puts on his gloves and ducks slightly to look at Baekhyun’s

face, but the latter is hiding it with the pillow.

Cold fingers probe Baekhyun’s inner thighs, and he wants to holler

something nasty just to spite the psycho, but he knows that provoking
the monster isn’t the right call at this point. He clutches the pillow’s
corners and moans every time Chanyeol stretches his butt-cheeks
apart.

“Just a tear. No signs of infection.” He reports, and Baekhyun gladdens

at the news because he thought –and judging by the scale of the pain–
that something really ugly was happening down there. “There’s a little
inflammation though, not that bad.”

“I just need to know if it’s gonna gum up the works.” Baekhyun huffs,
his voice muffled by the pillow he’s still dearly hugging.

Chanyeol leans back, taking his gloves off. “You can turn around now.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes at how domineering this guy is. “Do this. Do
that” he grumbles, doing as ordered nonetheless. “The world doesn’t
revolve around you, you know.”
“I kind of think it does.” Chanyeol jokes back. “Anyway, it’s going to feel
painful and itchy for the next few days, but nothing chronic so don’t
worry.” He says, “I’ll bring you some ointments containing anesthetics;
it’ll help reduce the pain. Also, you need rest, don’t move a lot so you
won’t aggravate the wound.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Baekhyun gives a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “I
don’t know what I’d have done without your examination.” He scoffs,
humorlessly. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Chanyeol’s lively face wavers, and that’s when Baekhyun’s blood runs
cold again. After a silent –terrifyingly scary– pause, Chanyeol rises to
his feet and hides a hand in his pocket, and the other balling the gloves
remains by his hip.

“So why am I still bleeding?” Baekhyun asks, now looking somewhere

over Chanyeol’s shoulders.

“You probably grazed it while you showered,” he says, and when

Baekhyun gives him that dejected ‘had to scrub it clean,’ he adds on a
small sigh. “Your anus looks red and puffy, so you shouldn’t touch it.
Leave it until the tear mends.” He turns around, heading for the front
door. “I’ll be back later to bring in food and the ointments.” He pauses.
“By the way, that paper plan was pretty smart, but there’s a little detail
you forgot about in your little strategic scheme. I’m smarter.” He says.
“I’ve added a padlock to the door; you’re not getting out of here again.”

Baekhyun takes a lungful and lets it out in the spurt of a prolonged

exhale.
Chapter Five

The next two or three days go by rather quickly with Chanyeol coming in,
applying the ointment to Baekhyun’s anus and bringing him food, and
helping him eat. The two say nothing to each other and Baekhyun does
his best to bear up with Chanyeol probing his ass because the
inflammation is ouch. But there’s this one time where he was lying on
his stomach with his hands folded over the head, and Chanyeol sitting
on the edge of the bed, applying the ointment. When he was done,
instead of taking his supplies and scram, he actually lingered there,
wordless; until Baekhyun had enough and reeled his head towards the
man only to see something vague swirling in his eyes. It got him worked
up, and he knew immediately that the man was plotting something,
nothing good.

Chanyeol immobilized Baekhyun by his shoulder blades and ignored the

choosiest swear words Baekhyun kept throwing at him as he ducked
into his neck and sank his teeth into the flesh until Baekhyun mewled
wantonly. Chanyeol didn’t pull back right away. He placed more of his
weight on Baekhyun’s back and pressed his teeth deeper, groaning as
Baekhyun whimpered at the violent ministration. Now, growing a bulge
down his crotch as Baekhyun tilted his head to allow him more space.
He pulled back just as suddenly and went about his business just like
that, leaving Baekhyun to deal alone with the throbbing of the bloody
bruise.

Until the following day that Baekhyun approves it marks the U-turn of
his life.

He wakes up startled from a traumatizing dream where Jooheon, along

with all the friends who were supposed to be still alive and having the
time of their lives in the capital. They rise from a puddle of blood with
their indexes pointed at him.

Suddenly there’s a new-found feeling surging within him, something

telling him that a greater power is rooting for him so he can go for it,
save himself. The rectal pain has long since ebbed to a faint ache, and
he’s glad he bounced back pretty fast. But that’s something he should
put to use. He tears off the needle of the IV bag and holds on to it
because of his life –and probably his friends’ too– depend on it.

As if listening in on his inner thoughts, the keys to the padlock clank

and the door creaks open. A very proud Chanyeol saunters in, chest
puffed out and hands in pockets. Baekhyun readies himself for the non-
planned calamity.

Once Chanyeol nears the bed, Baekhyun bolts forward. Chanyeol’s

reflex is as fast as Baekhyun expected. He latches at him before he
could scurry past him. Baekhyun elbows his side, and although
Chanyeol grunts at the contact, he doesn’t let go of him. He pulls
Baekhyun by the hair and throws him onto the bed, standing over him
as the bed bounces under the brunt of Baekhyun’s weight.
“You’re provoking me on purpose,” he grits out, now surging downward
to lock his hands around Baekhyun’s neck. “Do you enjoy this? Do you
want me to hurt you more?”

Baekhyun looks up at the fuming eyes and fleetingly regrets his earlier
decision, but as he fights to wheeze and try to breathe, Chanyeol quirks
a smirk that soon crescendos to an evil laugh. “This is great!” he
gushes, pressing his fingers more on Baekhyun’s windpipe as the latter
flails his arms and legs, trying to get away from his claws. “I can hurt
you as much as you want.”

Baekhyun brings the needle then and swipes it at Chanyeol’s face,

leaving a long trail of blood from his cheekbone to his jawline.
Chanyeol’s smirk falls, and he slowly lets go of Baekhyun but keeps on
straddling him anyway. He touches the newly-made cut. He inspects his
fingers and they’re smeared with blood. He snorts, but it’s humorless.
“You cut me!” he looks astounded by the revelation. “You actually cut
me!”

Baekhyun gives a self-satisfied smirk. “Serves you right, you sick son of
a bitch.”

Chanyeol tosses his head to the back and lets out a throaty maniacal
laugh; Baekhyun is horrified by it as he stills completely. He’s just cut
the bastard’s face. There’s no accounting for what’s going to follow. He
did guess a slap, a kick or a punch that would send stars over his head,
but he never expected this.

The laugh diminuendos to a chuckle eventually as he brings his eyes on

Baekhyun’s trembling ones. He tilts his head dangerously and
something wicked flashes across his face as he smirks evilly. “My turn.”
Baekhyun doesn’t even get the chance to let the newsflash sink in
when he gets pulled up by the collar and then punched on one side of
his face, again and again, and again. Baekhyun is lying on his back with
both arms over his head; his nose and lips nothing but a pond of blood.
His eyes roll under his lids, but nothing registers other than the dull pain
all over his head. He feels his body getting dragged, but he is too
disoriented to focus on what’s being done to him.

Was he too hasty by attempting to flee again?

He knew he was no match for Chanyeol but it’s not like his fighting skills
are lacking. He frankly thought he could take on the man this time that
he wasn’t in too much pain.

But boy was he wrong.

The wallops to his head have finally kicked in, and Baekhyun expects a
full-blown seizure in exactly a few minutes from now. If he’s honest with
himself, he doesn’t want to seize in front of a man who would most
likely jerk off at the sight than help him through it. –loud rattling brings
his focus back together, and he can make out the green enamel and
the fluorescent lights. He is then instantaneously tossed to the ground.

Chanyeol stands atop him, looking at him with blank eyes that show no
glint, no compassion.

Just a cold glare that makes Baekhyun wonders about his luck. . . that
he was caught by someone –something like this.
The tremors traveling up-and-down his scrawny body are the first
indication that his seizure is going to hit soon on full blast. He switches
to sleep on his side, but Chanyeol’s leg nudges his chest and forces him
on his back again. Baekhyun eventually lets him have it his way
because there is no way around the fact that he will end up with a
concussion, a tennis ball sized bump, and a blistering migraine.

He never takes his eyes away from Chanyeol’s though.

He knows something is messed up about that. First, he let Chanyeol

bite his neck, and fuck if he weren’t so much of a coward he’d have
admitted that he, in fact, had let Chanyeol bite him merely because he
enjoyed it. Damn it, he really enjoyed it, and that was the most mind-
boggling and scary thing about it. Bit by bit, he was enjoying the things
Chanyeol would do to him now and then.

He knows Chanyeol is sedulously waiting for when Baekhyun will seize

so he can feast his eyes and please himself, but something within
Baekhyun, something… dark, he thinks, something that’s festered just
recently is actually looking forward to this. Chanyeol can’t get enough
stimulation and pleasure from cutting into the flesh alone anymore, and
Baekhyun’s pain is basically the only thing that gives this man a reason
to go to these lengths, punish and hurt. Baekhyun wants to laugh out
loud, but his entire body is convulsing so he can’t.

He fears what might become of him.

Chanyeol is not human, there is no humanity left in this creature; but

what if whatever that is, it’s contagious?

No, no, no…

Baekhyun isn’t a cold-blooded killer. Baekhyun doesn’t find pleasure in
people’s pain. He is nothing like Chanyeol.

He enjoyed the bite because his body is weak to pleasure induced pain,
a normal body reaction.

His pupils sink under his lids, and he loses the sense of time and place
as his body stiffens and starts seizing.

Baekhyun awakes suddenly, wheezing and groaning. It’s dark, pitch

black. He hears clanging and clinking, chains maybe. He tries to move
his hands to assist the damage done to his face, but the movement is
impeded when something pulls at his wrists. The haziness on his focus
finally dissipates, and Baekhyun realizes he’s on his knees. His arms
parted overhead.

So, wait a damn second, just what exactly happened here?

Baekhyun remembers being beaten to a pulp but beyond that… No, he

did seize, did he not? And it most likely wasn’t a tonic-clonic judging by
the level of his nausea and headache. But just before that, didn’t
Chanyeol take him to another room –lab is actually more like it? He
remembers the glossy enamel floor and the white walls, it –everything
was swirling inside his head, so he’s not sure. Besides, he’s still a little
‘punchy’ from being incapacitated so maybe he’s getting ahead of
himself here.

He tugs his hands to him but the restraints on his wrists, metal, he can
tell, they’re pulling back against him. He can feel gritty dust scratching
his toes, so he guesses the floor is overlaid with it because it feels thick.
Suddenly, the room is flooded with blinding light, and Baekhyun winces
under its brilliance, hiding his pupils under his lids. He slowly opens
then again to survey his new surroundings.

It’s a square, white-walled, green enamel-floored room, roughly twenty

feet across from where he’s perched. He checks his wrists that are
currently chained to two metal hooks inserted fifteen feet up to the
ceiling, each on an opposite corner so that his arms are spread open
over his head. There are more hooks on the wall and spider webs on the
sloped corners. There’s a red settee before him. Towards the far corner
of the room, there’s a faucet and a drain grid.

Echoing whistling, rhythmic enough to sound eerie, garners Baekhyun’s

attention as he reels his head to the source.

The shiny loafers, the lab coat, and the puffed-out chest… Baekhyun
peers at the approaching man through bleary eyes. The impassive eyes,
the cold smirk and the evil countenance of the evil man, Park Chanyeol,
finally stands before Baekhyun.

“Sleeping beauty is finally up,” Chanyeol says in that dark voice of his
that, much to Baekhyun’s chagrin, echoes with such vividness. “’Was
wondering if I had to kiss you to break the spell.”

Baekhyun wets the inside of his mouth that’s too dry for his liking.
“What” –another swallow and an eye roll– “Where am I? What is this
place?”

Chanyeol crouches down to Baekhyun’s eye level, gives a small sigh

before looking around at the room. “This” –he motions at their
surroundings and looks back at Baekhyun– “is where you’re gonna live
from now on.”

A deep scowl takes over Baekhyun’s face. Something about that newly-
made scar on Chanyeol’s face soothes his festering anger. He’s done
well by scarring this man’s face.

“Used to be my personal lab but then I had them renovate the damn
place,” he says, now lifting his feet and dusting off his knees. “Haven’t
used it in a while, but then you’re always the exception to the rule.”

Baekhyun yanks the chains but they don’t give. Of course, they don’t.
“So, what now?” He scoffs, clears his stuffy throat and expectorates
blood on the enamel. “We’re gonna continue to play this game, kinda
redundant, don’t you think?”

Chanyeol eyes everything Baekhyun does, his eyes narrowing

searchingly for a second before he shrugs slightly. “Yea, I guess we
are.” He says, “Until I’m bored.”

Baekhyun clenches his fists. “Look, man” he starts, trying a different

approach this time because, obviously, violence would only cause more
violence. “I don’t care if you’re a psycho who likes to hear himself talk
and I don’t even care if you want to keep me here, locked up for your
own entertainment, banzai for the catch.”

Chanyeol is listening intently.

“Just,” he gulps audibly. “Please, just let my friend go.”

“Now,” Chanyeol swings his index threateningly. “I’m impervious to what
you say, but that’s such a terrific idea.”

Baekhyun’s face lightens up.

“But” –He says and Baekhyun scowls again– “I’m opinionated and
dogmatic, according to you that is, right?” He glares heatedly at
Baekhyun now. “So I’m probably the last one you want to negotiate
with.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Baekhyun demures. “You’re tampering with

my words!”

“I beg your pardon?” Chanyeol looks deceptively shocked. “I fed you,

treated your wounds, and looked after you” he ends up barking by the
last sentence, now pointing his index at his scarred face. “And this is
how you repay me?”

When Baekhyun’s lips twitch into a tiny triumphant smirk, Chanyeol

grips his hair, yanks his head backward until Baekhyun can’t help, but
groan. Their eyes meet and Chanyeol’s silhouette makes him look more
frightening than he already is. “Were you not listening?” he clenches
harder. He tsks and suddenly frees Baekhyun’s hair, “Look what you’ve
done,” he eyes the same hand he assaulted Baekhyun’s hair with.
“You’ve gotten blood on me.”

Baekhyun furrows deeply at the man. He can say something really

smartass-y right now, but he’s not ready for the consequences yet.
Chanyeol takes out a burgundy handkerchief, and Baekhyun fights
against picking on Chanyeol’s girly taste. The psycho wipes his hands
and places the handkerchief in the pocket of his lab coat, “I guess it’s
to be expected,” he says, “I spoil you too much.”

Baekhyun scoffs humorlessly to that.

“That’s why,” his wicked eyes fall on Baekhyun’s at this. “I’ve made new
rules.”

Baekhyun blinks to clear his vision.

“Rule number one,” he starts, “Hygiene.” He says, now undoing one of

the binds on Baekhyun’s wrists. “You keep yourself clean,” he orders.
“Keep your new home clean.”

Baekhyun’s hand flops to his thigh weightless. As Chanyeol unchains

the other hand, Baekhyun feels that instinctive need to flee this place
again and he tries to suppress it with all the power he has left. Chanyeol
walks to the left side and comes with a metal bucket and a crummy
looking sponge, which Baekhyun didn’t notice before. He tosses them
at his captive’s knees until they clang, and then he thrusts his hands
into his pockets.

“You’re joking, right?” Baekhyun snorts at the absurdity of the situation.

Chanyeol eyes him impassively, “I want the place spotless.”

Okay, so let Baekhyun get this straight. He’s spent God knew how long
sedated, in pain and raped in that room, and now that he finally
changed airs –not that it’s five stars with a view– but Chanyeol is
suddenly asking him to vacuum?

Chanyeol gives that impatient sigh, now crouching before Baekhyun.

“Look, you can’t keep disobeying me. If I tell you to do something, you
do it, okay?” saying so, he brings his fingers and brushes Baekhyun’s
recent hickey, barely ghosting over the bruised skin. “I don’t wanna hurt
you, Baekhyun–” He suddenly snorts on a snicker. “Actually I do,”

Baekhyun recoils slightly from the fingers, terror seizing him.

“But you know, don’t speed things up.” Chanyeol brings his hands back
to his pockets as he levers up to his feet. “Follow the rules, is all I’m
saying.” He puffs out his muscled chest. “But be a smartass again, and
your friend buys the farm.”

At the mention of his friend, Baekhyun loses all his composure. “Why
can’t I see him?” he demands. “You’ve promising me things, but you
don’t keep your word either.” He says, “You’ve had your fun with me
man. Just let us go already. We won’t rat on you. We’ll forget everything
happened and never speak of this to a soul, huh, what’ ya think?”

Chanyeol’s lips twitch and furl, but quickly loosen. His face is set in hard
lines as he gives the other a pointed stare.

“I don’t think I want to hear you talk anymore Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun’s mouth is suddenly cupped by one of Chanyeol’s palms. He
fumbles through his pockets for something; Baekhyun makes sure he
goes down fighting as he squirms and scratches the other. Chanyeol's
hand finally comes out with a leather mouth gag, and he doesn’t waste
any second as he wraps it around Baekhyun’s face and thrusts the
stuffy part into his injured mouth. The latter shakes his head to stop
Chanyeol from clipping the damn suffocating gag, but Chanyeol tightens
the grip of the straps and does the buckle. He totters to the back after
the effort and squares his shoulder, now eying his handiwork.

Baekhyun is still kneeling on the floor. His hands probing the buckle in
the back of his head and his eyes are glaring up at his captor.

“I’ll take it off when you’ve learned how to show some respect.” he
starts. “You see, people are too engrossed, and you’re no different. A lot
of things you take for granted are actually privileges.” He says, “And for
you to learn that, you have to follow the rules. The more rules you
follow, the better you are, the better you are, the more privileges you
earn.”

Baekhyun takes in a shaky breath and lets his hands fall beside his
hips.

“Plain and simple.” Chanyeol comments on a faint shrug, “Nothing too

complicated, right?”

Baekhyun lowers his gaze. He stares wide-eyed somewhere over his lap,
and Chanyeol has to crook his head to look at Baekhyun’s face. “Rules,
Baekhyun.” He sings-songs, “remember what rule number one was?”
Baekhyun is doing a mental check on the possible odds that might
follow with him taking the gag off and hitting Chanyeol’s head with the
metal bucket. He knows the plan might work, and he might actually
succeed at taking the other down, but he has no recollection of his
seizure, and Chanyeol hasn’t mentioned anything about anticonvulsant.
So, how is he going to be sure it’s going to go according to plan? He
might seize in the next few minutes, and he will have no power to make
it stop.

Chanyeol scratches his nape and breathes out of his nose. “Rule
number one, Baek, come on.”

Baekhyun can suddenly hear a slight degree of impatience creeping in

the other’s voice, so he snaps out of his thoughts and tries to remember
what rule number one was. He eyes the bucket and the sponge, and
suddenly it sinks in.

Hygiene

He slowly reaches for the bucket and the sponge, grips it in his lean
hand and stares up at Chanyeol who chuckles softly. He ignores the
man who, by the looks of it, is having so much fun, and he tries to stand
up on his two shaky legs. He manages a couple of steps before he falls,
shoulder-first, on the wall. Thankfully, the spigot is just a couple of
meters ahead so he rejoices because, true, he didn’t except this before,
but he is so disoriented and queasy.

He fills up the bucket to the half and returns to where Chanyeol is

standing.

“A quick learner, aren’t you?”

Baekhyun looks irritably at him before he drops to his knees, feeling the
cold floor. Chanyeol shows some audacity by walking out of his way to
sit on the settee, arms outstretched on the headrest and legs crossing
on one another. Baekhyun dips the sponge into the cold water. He
wrings it out and starts mopping the blood off the floor.

Chanyeol watches intently as the blood on the floor dilutes under

Baekhyun’s throughout cleansing. His dark eyes follow the movement,
and when Baekhyun glances swiftly at him, there’s no particular
emotion on that empty face. Their eyes meet on the fly, making
Baekhyun’s entire body shudder. He quickly looks at the area he’s
scrubbing, and he licks his lips, ready to exchange a few words with this
monster because the boredom is going to drive him insane faster than
the psycho.

He unbuckles the straps and holds on to the mouth gag, just in case
Chanyeol flips. “So what’s your deal?” Baekhyun starts, one shoulder
taut because he’s leaning on it and the other is rocking back and forth
as he scrubs the floor with the sponge, the damn blood stains aren’t
going away. “’Seems like you have all the time in the world since you’re
spending most of your time in than you do out.”

Chanyeol is silent for the next few seconds before he sags back on the
headrest with a little sigh. He props his elbow on the armrest and leans
on his knuckles, “I remember saying I didn’t like to hear you talk
anymore.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Any of it sinking in?”

“Humor me.” Baekhyun grits out.

“Tell me,” he starts, “Did you like it when I raped you?”

Baekhyun stills, and he can tell his eyes are widening with shock.

“I didn’t ask you to stop.” Chanyeol’s reminder is spoken in a soft tone,

but Baekhyun’s stomach does a vigorous somersault at its brunt. When
he resumes the scrubbing, Chanyeol continues, “So, did you like it?”

Baekhyun stifles in his anger, but it’s no use when his fingers are
getting colder and number, irritating him some more. “Nobody enjoys
getting fucked in the ass, especially on the dry.”

“So your argument is,” Chanyeol drawls, “If it weren’t on the dry, you’d
have enjoyed it?” he scoffs, “that’s plausible.”

Baekhyun throws the sponge into the bucket until water droplets
bounce everywhere. He turns around, still squatting on the floor. His
glare hardens, and his jaw clenches. “You seem like you’ve made quite
the habit of tampering with everything I say,” He breathes out,
accusingly. “I didn’t like it; I didn’t like you shoving your dick up my ass. I
didn’t like it on the dry, but I won’t necessary like it on a lube either.” He
says, “It was disgusting and painful,” the burning look in his eyes
doesn’t waver. “I’ll kill you if you lay your hands on me again.”

Chanyeol’s poker-face breaks into a predatory, cold and chilling smirk.

And Baekhyun isn’t that slow, he knows he’s just played into Chanyeol’s
hands, and although he’d rather take all of it back, he knows he can’t.
And Chanyeol has just gotten his hands on valuable information. Inside
Chanyeol’s brain, probably any talk which doesn’t involve pain gets
sieved out, and the only thing repeating inside his head is ‘it was
painful.’

He regrets opening his mouth and yapping; he regrets it pretty fucking

bad.

“Put the gag back on.” He orders, his voice gentle.

Gentle means trouble is coming; Baekhyun can read him loud and clear
now, most of his sick traits anyways. And he knows better than to
disobey; he’s done enough by taking the gag off and spilling his heart to
any old Joe blow enough to provoke his abductor. He puts the gag back
on and does the buckle, but since Chanyeol is keeping his eyes on him,
he tightens the straps enough to leave a mark. He hates the feeling of
his mouth being stuffed with leather, but he bears with it so long his
head isn’t getting bashed with anything.

Chanyeol puts the chains back on each of Baekhyun’s wrists; he yanks

them to see if they give, they don’t. He eyes the floor and the areas
Baekhyun washed, and then he beams, “that’s a good boy.” And just as
Baekhyun’s body collapses with relief, Chanyeol’s loafer shoots forward
and collides with his chest, knocking the breath out of him. Baekhyun
whimpers and doubles over, feeling Chanyeol’s hand ruffling his hair.
The fucker, he’s pushing his luck here. The pain feels like a fire eating
gasoline as his chest burns. He wheezes to tell the damage apart,
bruised ribs, nothing broken. But that’s uncalled for. Isn’t Chanyeol
pleased with his work or what, exactly?

“If you keep me waiting so fucking long again,” Chanyeol starts, still
beaming manically. “I’ll have you clean the entire room with your
tongue.” Saying so, he walks to the door, opens it, and leaves.
The lights go off again, and Baekhyun is left to nurse his new injury.

It’s an astonishing pain that drags Baekhyun right out of his harmless
dream. He doesn’t want to wake up, at least for now. He wants to go
back to those trivial chitchats with his family around the dinner table,
the hot soup, and the warm house. But he knows he can’t.

He blinks a few times; the unrelenting darkness proves him it’s not a
choice of his. It’s something forced on him, just like how many other
things became shackles on him as of late. His shoulders are sore, his
ribs too, he is cold, hungry, and his mouth is gagged. He knows his body
can only handle so much. It’s a race against time as of now before his
body shuts down on itself, not wanting any of this anymore. Not the
pain, not the helpless feeling and certainly not the upheaval which rises
every time Chanyeol is around.

First things first though, he has to assist the recent damage done to his
ribs. He’d have been too hasty with his examination before. He is not
coughing up blood. Baekhyun sighs because it’s a good sign since the
threat of a punctured lung seems to have been avoided. He takes a
deep breath but feels stinging pain below his ribcage, so it’s probably
just a bruise. A nasty one at that but he’ll manage.

The lights stream through the morbid dread of darkness, blinding

Baekhyun with the resultant radiance. He lowers his head and slowly
opens his eyes, helping them adapt to the surge of light. The door
rattles open, and Chanyeol walks in, wearing a brown knee-length coat
over a dress shirt. There’s something like a bowl in his hand, and that
haughty smirk hasn’t worn off. He stands motionless once he reaches
Baekhyun, only eying him fixedly.
“Hungry, Baekhyun?”

Said male looks at his captor through slanted eyes before he looks
away, nauseated at the sight of those evil eyes.

“Ignoring me?”

Baekhyun winces inwardly because nothing good ever happens after

Chanyeol uses that questioning tone.

Chanyeol crouches beside Baekhyun. He puts the bowl down and

unclips the gag. Baekhyun feels immense relief that his jaw isn’t parted
anymore, drool spills down his jaw but he’s been through worse. He can
handle this.

“Let’s try again,” Chanyeol says in his deep voice, “You hungry?”

Baekhyun’s eyes flick towards the contents of the bowl, a meager

quantity of fried rice. His stomach growls at the smell, giving him away.
Baekhyun finds no other option but to admit the facts because he’s not
hungry, he’s starving, any food will do. He nods after his eyes glance
back at Chanyeol’s.

The latter gives a brittle smirk, “Asked you a question, Baek.” He

reminds, “It’s rude not to answer.”

Baekhyun would elbow the bastard in the eye if he could. He knows

there’s no way around the fact that he has to utter words, not of spite,
but to keep the monster entertained. “Yes.”
Chanyeol scoff. “Now”, he starts. “Is that any way to ask for food?”

Baekhyun bears with it for the sake of food, “I’m hungry.” He says
through gritted teeth. “Give me food.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, feigning disappointment, “I guess you don’t

want it after all.” He levers up to his feet and makes to leave. Baekhyun
reaches for him with his body until the chains jingle.

“Wait!” He calls out, and when Chanyeol pauses mid-stride and turns
around, that fucking expectant look on his face making him look like a
child. Baekhyun gulps his anger and stares upon the enamel floor,
“Please…”

Chanyeol cocks his head. “What was that?”

Baekhyun clenches his fists, “I’m really hungry. Can I eat the rice,
please?”

Chanyeol plunges his hands into his pockets and lets out a rather
contented sigh, “That’s another thing you took for granted.” He says,
“Which reminds me of the second rule.”

Baekhyun hardens his glare at the man.

“Gratitude.” He says with a creepy smile. “You gotta show some

gratitude for the things I do for you.”
Baekhyun lets out an abrupt chuckle, “Does that mean I should thank
you for hurting me as well?” he scoffs, “For killing my friends?”

Chanyeol only keeps that creepy smile on and then he leaves

altogether. Baekhyun’s eyes are fixated on the door, wondering if
Chanyeol leaving without a word is a good thing or not, or if he’s just
sentenced his friend and himself to certain death. The lights don’t go
out this time, and when nothing else happens. Baekhyun finally musters
the courage to look away from the door and onto the bowl of rice before
him. His face is slowly coated crimson with humiliation, he even went
and begged.

Some undetermined time later, the door opens again, and Chanyeol
walks in, still smiling creepily. Baekhyun examines the man’s hands, if
they’re holding something and he feels slight relief when he finds
nothing. Chanyeol then stops when he reaches the settee his eyes
peering down at his captive.

“You’ve got too much damn time on your hands,” Baekhyun glances at
the man after wetting his lips. “Doc.”

Chanyeol ducks his head with a tiny side smile on his lips, he lifts the
bowl and after he locks eyes with Baekhyun. He spills the contents of
the bowl onto the enamel.

“Screwing with my mind, is that it?” Baekhyun huffs, his irises

momentarily hiding under his lids.

“No,” Chanyeol denies, “Screwing with your stomach.”

Baekhyun gulps. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Am I?” Chanyeol dares with false curiosity. “Last I checked, humans
can’t go on without food, you might still act stubborn, say, ten days from
now?” he says, “but what about two weeks from now? Three?”

Baekhyun gives an arrogant chuckle, “And you honestly think I’d stay
here for that long?”

“You think you can check out?” Chanyeol scoffs, his eyes glinting with a
hint of amusement. “Well, I’d like to see you try.”

Baekhyun’s features draw into a scowl. “I’m going home,” he says,

defiantly. “Right after I slit your throat.”

Chanyeol furrows. “But what to do,” he says. “I already decided to inflict

unimaginable pain on you before you turn back and bite.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widen at the news.

“It’s probably why you’ll need that food,” he says, flippantly, “to keep in
shape.”

“Touch me, and I’ll kill you.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

Baekhyun grits his teeth because he currently has no comebacks for
that. He’s been promising to finish the man off for a while now, but
Chanyeol still managed to have his fun with him in his own sick, twisted
way.

Chanyeol gives a conceited hum, “That’s what I thought.”

There’s silence for a moment -the silence before a storm. Baekhyun

doesn’t want to dive into reading the little twitches in the nuances of
Chanyeol’s face, trying to gauge up what possible mood he’d be
wallowing in, but the silence is almost eerie for Baekhyun to be chilling
back. Chanyeol then, and very slowly, slides his hand into the chest
pocket of his coat, and it comes out holding a syringe. Baekhyun’s heart
drops to his stomach.

“You remember your old pal, Baekhyun?”

Said male’s fists clench impossibly hard. It can’t be, it just can’t. He
starts pulling against the chains, wanting to flee away at any cost
because any torture is better than the pain inducer. “No” he growls
crossly, “No!”

Chanyeol pets Baekhyun’s head, kneading through the tousled strands.

“Easy” he breathes out, now pulling Baekhyun’s head to his chest,
burying his face into the crook of his neck. “Easy.”

Baekhyun squirms more, his panting growing frantic, “No, please, not
that.” His voice cracks, “Chanyeol.”
The latter shushes him with the gentleness of a mother, “You left me no
choice, Baekhyun.” He whispers on the crown of said man’s head. “I
have to do this, don’t fight it,” he commands, his voice shockingly
soothing. “Don’t make me hurt you more.”

Baekhyun’s heart is erratic at this rate, waging an impending full-

fledged hyperventilation, “No one’s making you do anything.” Baekhyun
practically wails, “Chanyeol, please… please, anything but this.”

Silence sips in for a second before any of them speaks again.

“Anything?” Chanyeol asks, the smirk he’s wearing coming through in

his voice.

Baekhyun cringes, if he gives in this one time, everything he’s worked

for to maintain his pride will keel over and crumble down, but he
doesn’t want another shot of that pain inducer. He doesn’t want to feel
that ever again, but he doesn’t want to yield to this heartless monster
for a man either.

“Baekhyun?” Chanyeol urges. His deep voice and savory scent making
Baekhyun fleetingly undecided, but he knows he has only fragments of
a second to savor the fleeting sense of sanctuary before Chanyeol
spurts out his fangs at him and snatch whatever this is from right under
him. He nods, it’s slow, tentative and he hates himself for this.

Chanyeol chuckles darkly on Baekhyun’s hair; the sound is

reverberating through Baekhyun with such animosity, ridiculing him for
all the misfortunes he’s just signed up for with his full awareness. “But,
Baekhyun” Chanyeol starts, “Why’d you assume I’d care what you
want?”
Baekhyun wrenches himself from the impermanent shelter, his eyes
horrified.

Chanyeol’s eyes are a pair of dead pupils that show blatant

impassiveness. The syringe penetrates Baekhyun’s neck and he feels
its nib pricking him, he hisses and repels himself backward.

“You…” He groans, “You sick bastard…”

"So I've been told." Chanyeol says with a grin, his hand coming up to run
softly through Baekhyun's hair.

The feeling is anyway different from what he experienced before. This

almost feels like a cold numbness wiggling its way throughout his body.

And bit by bit, darkness engulfs him whole.

Chapter Six

Baekhyun awakes at the sensation of something cold cricking his

nipples. He lets out a mewl through his gagged mouth before he can
just whose novel hand is probing him. But recent events have
entrenched only one possibility for that, so before even opening his
eyes, he knows it’s Park Chanyeol, plotting for something bizarre again.

“’Back from the land of the dead?”

At this, Baekhyun’s heavy lids part open, still a slit though. His pupils
roam unfocused before they settle on the man sitting on the settee as
though it’s his legitimate throne, eying Baekhyun’s body with intense
hanger. The latter’s entire body stiffens as a shudder runs through him.
“You’ve been out of it for a couple of days now,” he says, “I was starting
to worry.”

Leave it to the gag to keep him from coming up with a good comeback
for that.

“As you can see,” Chanyeol chats on, “I’ve taken the initiative to do
something for you because you were a good boy, you cleaned the floor,”
he says, “Good boys deserve a treat.”

Baekhyun furrows for an explanation.

“Although it’s a little imposing on your privacy, I’ve cleaned you up,
thoroughly,” he enunciates it for emphasis, “Shaved your ugly stubble
as well.” He reports, “You won’t be needing clothes from now on, I got
rid of them.”

Baekhyun eyes himself, and he’s shocked to see not only is he naked,
but there’s some sort of a silver collar on his neck that is connected to a
chain. The chain parts halfway and each end is clipped to his nipples
with a clamp. It’s probably what caused the cricking feeling earlier.

Chanyeol twines his fingers together and adopts that smoky tone of
voice again, “Remember what you said before I sedated you?”

Baekhyun can’t exactly answer even if he wanted to because there’s a

gag in his mouth.

“Anything,” Chanyeol sing-songs, “You said anything was better, thus,

you’ve given me your total permission to do anything I want with you –
not that I needed it, but it helps you feel like this is consensual, so to
speak.” He says, “I’m willing to forgive all your misbehaviors, give you a
second chance, more or less, all you need to do is kneel and part your
legs shoulder length.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widen at that.

“Or,” Chanyeol lifts an index, “I can resort to violence again, what with
me using my trump card of harming your friend and we both know I’ll
get what I want with that, it’s easier, but not really that fun.”

Just what is he trying to accomplish with such a senseless argument,

really?
Baekhyun doesn’t understand the need for the nipple clamps. Chanyeol
has that sadistic streak, but he never thought it’d be easily labeled,
what with Chanyeol resorting to slave collars and –wait a damn second.
Does this make Baekhyun a slave? Or better yet, does Chanyeol think
that he can enslave Baekhyun, and the BDSM toys would give it a
realistic meaning?

“I don’t really need words,” Chanyeol speaks again, “Just part your
knees if you aren’t apt for more violence, personally, I just want to have
a little fun for now. I’ve had a pretty crappy day and raping you sounds
like it’d sate my anger.”

He’s angry?

Baekhyun has thought that Chanyeol’s anger came in the spurts of

unrelenting violence. Never once did he stop to think that the violent
Chanyeol is actually Chanyeol in a merry mood. This new version of
Chanyeol tells him that the man is not just angry, he is livid. And if
Baekhyun lets this man head to his friend’s, Hongbin might as well end
up dead, gorily so, and Chanyeol wouldn’t even bat an eye.

He’s never thought it’d come to this; actually, he kind of did before he
was even raped, but living it like this it sort of changes his entire point
of view. Being stripped of his pride and dignity like this, literally, it brings
about a whole sensation, that of hopelessness and misery. To have a
man –psycho, no less– strip you down and order you around as though
you’re his whore. The anger swirling down Baekhyun’s stomach is about
to erupt. He knows that as long as Chanyeol has that trump card up his
sleeve, he won’t be able even to put up a fight. No, maybe, wallowing in
this bottomless hatred will ignite that fire for revenge all over again and
he won’t crumble under the despair.

And as Chanyeol sits there, legs crossed with his cheek propped on a
hand’s knuckles, Baekhyun demurs, but eventually and very slowly
parts his knees. The sickening clanking of chains adhered to the hooks
is making him feel revolted. His eyes wander about the lab before
settling back on Chanyeol’s nocuous eyes that are eating him up
without shame. He suddenly uncrosses his long legs and levers up to
his feet. Baekhyun, wide-eyed and horror-stricken as he stares at the
other as he approaches him, heavy footfalls echoing in the vacant
room. He comes to a halt when he’s a feather-length away, his hip level
to Baekhyun’s face. The latter looks up, feeling the metal collar tickling
his nape when he does, but he ignores it in favor of being vigilant or
pretending to be, anyway.

Chanyeol only stands there, wordless. Suddenly, his right hand comes
up, ghosts over Baekhyun’s cheek. His cold fingertips that make him
shudder but not completely recoil.

“Such luscious lips, even if scarred” –he thumps said lips slightly–
“Feline eyes” –ghosts both thumps now over said eyes, and the mole
over the corner of Baekhyun’s right brow– “porcelain skin.” He almost
moans at the feeling of smooth skin under his touch.

Baekhyun is gradually furrowing, having someone as psychotic as

Chanyeol boss you around wasn’t much of a blow to his nuts, but he
has to listen to the same twisted man admiring his good body traits and
even cop a feel. He gasps abruptly when fingers knead through his
recently washed hair.

“Our relationship is growing rather stagnant, wouldn’t you say?”

Chanyeol asks in undertone.

Relationship?

Chanyeol calls this a ‘relationship’?

Baekhyun wants to laugh his head off at the term, mock Chanyeol for
his poor interpretation, even the ‘be-my-toy’ script is far better than
labeling this as something that only normal people should have.

“I reckon you feel the same,” Chanyeol notes out, conversationally. His
right hand now working the fingers into Baekhyun’s already gagged
mouth. As the latter squirms, hating the added stuffing making it
difficult to breathe, Chanyeol speaks on, “You’ve been tucked away into
your new home, kept to nurse your craving for normalcy, for a human
touch.”

Baekhyun’s squirming stops and he looks up, meeting Chanyeol’s

wicked eyes that are… they are looking back at him, but there’s
something within, something utterly new that should not be there.

There is kindness.
“I’m not raving to win you over by the way,” he says, “I’ve concluded you
have the potential to be entertaining, that’s all.”

Chanyeol isn’t making any sense now, Baekhyun concludes.

There’s something different today, something that can have disastrous

consequences. He thinks something that has the ability to ruin his
resolve.

Chanyeol uses his other unoccupied hand to unclip the gag, pull it and
toss it aside until copious saliva splatter across the area on the floor it
fell. Drool spills down Baekhyun’s jaw as he regains relief from having
something as annoying as a gag stuffed into his mouth for hours.

He chuckles when he feels fingers still lingering in his hair, “Now, even
Shakespeare would bow to that,” he smirks at the other, “I almost
dropped a tear.”

Those fingers in his hair massage the scalp sensually, grazing the ear
tips and the head crown, pulling and pressing, just like a lover’s kiss,
they suddenly stop. “Those fatuous comments of yours will be the death
of you someday.”

“And when’s that?” Baekhyun dares. Deep within, he knows grating on

Chanyeol’s nerves, especially when he is ‘angry’, is basically spoiling for
a disaster, but it’s like a pull that you can’t resist no matter what.
Chanyeol isn’t as busy as to deny him that.

“How about we put that potty mouth of yours to use?” Chanyeol hums,
impatience creeping into his voice, “Open your mouth.”

“As inviting as it sounds,” Baekhyun begins, “But no thanks, I’ll decline

the offer.”

Loud ringing goes off in Baekhyun’s left ear, followed by a stinging pain
in his cheek, and he soon realizes he’s just been slapped.

“You still think you get to downturn an order?” Chanyeol huffs, his thick
brows meeting across his marred forehead, “Open your mouth.”

Baekhyun hardens his glare as though it’d daunt Chanyeol into

releasing him along with his friends, as though it’d define how odious
this treatment is.
Chanyeol lifts his hand again and it comes down fast, and hard, landing
on Baekhyun’s cheek again. The latter’s head is jerked, looking
elsewhere. “Don’t make me repeat myself again, Baekhyun.” He
threatens, looking intimidating enough to actually scare an unmoving
sculpture.

“You’ve had a crappy day at work,” Baekhyun’s voice is low, anger

evident in it, “So what, you just come in here to fuck up mine?” He
chides, eyes glaring fumingly at the other now. “Well, here’s a newsflash
for you bud,” he snorts, “You and your orders can suck my dick.”

“Actually,” Chanyeol brightens up with a creepy smirk, “You are.” Saying

so, he unzips his fly and his cock springs free, hard and veiny.
Baekhyun did miss the bulge but merely because he was more
frightened by evil eyes making him feel uncanny about everything. “If
you bite it, or as much as graze it with your teeth,” Chanyeol warns. “I’ll
head to the room at the end of the hall and shoot your friend right in the
pelvis, won’t even look back as I leave him there as he is slowly dying
such a painful death.”

Baekhyun quickly parts his lips open, not wanting to hear any threats
concerning his friend. Besides, if a blowjob is all this sick bastard wants,
then so be it. Baekhyun is only doing this to keep his friend safe, he is
not doing this because Chanyeol ordered him to. This is something that
gifts him with more self-respect, he’d lost it in him before, hated being
reduced to a means of sexual frustration relief. But he thinks he is
doing quite alright by taking on this man’s demand to save Hongbin.

Chanyeol, completely oblivious to the anger rifling through his captive,

he plunges his cock into the open mouth, sighing at the welcoming
heat.

Baekhyun tries to run from this by closing his eyes so tightly that
rainbow colors explode in his vision. So, because this is forced on him,
Baekhyun promises to act just like it, keep his lips parted and bear with
it until Chanyeol’s had enough. But, apparently, the man has no plan of
doing this one-sidedly. As he thrusts into the hot, wet mouth, he tugs at
the nipple clamps, making Baekhyun mewl again at the cricking pull.
The vibrating down his throat makes Chanyeol groan. Well, one thing for
sure, Baekhyun understands the need for the nipple clamps now.
Chanyeol’s hands clutch at Baekhyun’s hair from both sides, tugging at
it as he thrusts into Baekhyun’s mouth like a dog humping a couch.
Baekhyun feels like death in the woods by a maniac bowman would
have been a lot more merciful than this. At least he would end up dead,
not raped from the upper end.

Gosh, he can’t breathe. He feels Chanyeol’s dick reaching all the way to
his throat, plugging it and keeping air from passing through. And the
harder he yanks the chains, the more miserable he feels. Chanyeol
keeps poking at the nipple clamps, groaning every time Baekhyun
moans because the inside vibration tickles the crown of his cock.

Baekhyun feels hot liquid touching the back of his tongue, he knows
what it is, but he won’t even give it as much as a thought. It’d only
wound his manhood otherwise.

When Chanyeol approaches climax, at fucking last, he draws his cock

out of Baekhyun’s mouth and spurts his cum on the swollen lips
instead; the proclaim skin of his face and neck and chest, and the long
lashes of the feline eyes. Baekhyun’s eyes water, all the tears that want
to roll down his face, for being submitted to such humiliation.

“As much as I’d love to see you swallow,” Chanyeol quirks a grin, “But
I’d hate to be left with the trouble of looking after your stomachache.”
Saying so, he tucks his cock back beneath his underwear and adjusts
the fly. “Now, can you tell me what you learned from that?”

Baekhyun scoffs without a single trace of a smile, “That you need

help?”

“A facetious remark, indeed.” Chanyeol’s grin is still radiant as he walks

back to the settee, picks out something that Baekhyun miserably failed
to notice earlier and he moves forward again, only this time, he
sidesteps Baekhyun who is intermittently coughing. “Obedience,
Baekhyun, you need to start learning some obedience.”

At that, Baekhyun hears a deep whoosh in the air before something

cold collides with his back, and he screams as pain spreads through
him. Another whoosh and Baekhyun’s entire body jerks, the chains
rattle ominously, reminding him, time and again, that there could be no
escape from this. He screams again when the single-tailed whip latches
and strikes his back. He knows it’s going to leave him with nasty welts
across his back, and the nasty contusion in his chest hasn’t gone away
either. He doesn’t know how he stifles in the scream the next time the
whip leaves a mark on him, telling a story of how painful it’s been. But it
works on Chanyeol’s nerves as he adds more force to his strikes. This
time, the welts start to bleed.

By the time Chanyeol throws the whip away, splattering blood as it spins
in the air, Baekhyun is still and silent. Chanyeol, at least, has the good
grace to show little mercy by unchaining Baekhyun’s wrists and letting
him fall to the cold enamel with a thump that just signifies he’s out like
a light.

Chapter Seven

How many days have already passed with Baekhyun waking up to a

different pain each day?

Is it night, or is it day?

He can’t tell anymore. He wasn’t even able to ever since he was brought
in here, confined to the unrelenting darkness, bound by shackles and
robbed of his freedom to fight.

He is hungry, so very hungry. Maybe he’ll die here of malnutrition and

dehydration. Maybe hypothermia will finally set in, and he’ll die a slow
death.
Baekhyun, as he lies there assuming a fetal position, he begins to
wonder just for what reason was he brought to life in the first place,
really, if suffering is all he has ever known. A part of his brain does
understand that he is currently delirious from the pain radiating from
his back. The exceedingly cold enamel helps lessen the throbbing a
little bit. Getting humiliated like that, Baekhyun grits his teeth as his
bleary eyes water more, reduced to nothing but a human toilet, a cum
dump…

The dried blood on his back is an account of the lashing he took a few
hours ago; the tainting his body and more, his soul.

He wonders if he can take any more of this, if he will finally break and
doom himself and his friend.

He turns around very slowly, groaning when he moves wrong and jars
his bruised welts, the whip marks, the evidence of getting physically
abused. Does Chanyeol care? Yes, might happen when hell freeze over.
But maybe, that might be overturned if Baekhyun does something for
Chanyeol of his own accord, follow the rules, for example. It’s true he is
practically blind with no single light speck seeping into the room, but
Baekhyun relies on his hands to detect any signs of dirt. He finds more
than he bargained for. Luckily, he still remembers the direction of the
faucet and the drain grid. He works his way to the far corner of the
room, hears the double chains of his collar cling in sync. He probes the
floor and the wall for the said faucet. His hands suddenly hit something
metal that clunks when it tips over and something squishy falls. He
rejoices for having found the bucket and the sponge with which he can
clean the floor.

After he finishes scrubbing the floor which has taken all his energy, he
goes back to the faucet and washes away the crisp substance from his
hair. Although it freezes his sore nipples and stings his back, Baekhyun
continues to wash his body as well.
With this, Chanyeol will be satisfied, and he might give him some food.

Thankfully, when he returns to his corner, the enamel has long since
dried as though the underneath cement has sucked the water dry. He
rubs the area he is going to sit on, vehement in his action. When he
feels it a little hot, he sits, absorbing faint warmth with such a childish
delight.

The blinding lights return, and Baekhyun straightens up, red-rimmed

eyes wide and expectant.

Chanyeol walks in with a small white box in his hand, hard soles hitting
the enamel, echoing across the room along with the same eerie
whistling. He then is standing before Baekhyun, tall and intimidating.
But he is sneering this time; it makes Baekhyun wonder what kind of
sick play he has planned for today.

“Wow, Baekhyun!” Chanyeol begins, gushing on with genuine approval.

“Look at the place, look at you!”

Baekhyun’s eyelids flutter for a moment before he nods, tentatively as it

may seem.

Chanyeol crouches beside the other on his haunches, puts the box
aside and sighs after a quick once over at his captive, “You’ve done
really well.” Saying so, he dispenses a gentle pat on Baekhyun’s head.

Baekhyun, still shivering from the cold water, he crumbles under the
warm hand that is now palming his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans
on the hand, some warmth that momentarily gifts him with the illusion
that he’s back home again, safe. He lets out a shaky breath, and he
clings to that hand, seeking more warmth. Suddenly, realization hits
him like a slap and his eyes open wide. He finds Chanyeol’s face near
his, that same kindness he’s seen before is deep within those usually
disdainful eyes, and it terrifies him more than anything else. He recoils
from that warm hand, favoring the cold touch of enamel and freezing
water over anything Chanyeol has to offer.

Chanyeol retreats his hand and shrugs, “You deserve a treat for being a
good boy,” he says, “tell me, ‘what you wanna eat?”

“Anything…?” Baekhyun requires, doubtful by his tone.

Chanyeol smiles, “Anything.”

After Chanyeol types down the food Baekhyun has just listed on his
phone, he faces Baekhyun now, “anything else?”

Baekhyun is happy that this is paying off well for him, and he knows if
he keeps on this act, he can get all he wants. But instead of doing just
that, he goes against his own plan and resigns to showing his own fake
subjugation to the rules. “I’m very grateful for the kindness you have
shown me.”

Chanyeol’s face brightens up, “Wayhe, he learns!”

Baekhyun nods.
“You definitely deserve a treat for that too,” he gushes, “Although that’s
hardly obedient, Baek” he smirks, “but compliance and obedience are
two sides of the same coin.”

Baekhyun gulps audibly at the fear of his reward getting invalidated.

“Points for trying,” Chanyeol cocks his head a little, smiling, “You have
certainly improved.” Saying so, he types more on his cell-phone before
he puts it back in his pocket. “So, as we wait for your treats to come,”
he starts, “How about you let me take a look at your back.”

Baekhyun immediately complies, shifting a little so that his back is in

plain sight.

Upon examining his back, Chanyeol makes a soft noise, too indistinct
for Baekhyun to distinguish. “That looks nasty,” he comments.
Baekhyun bites back his own retort, instead, he grimaces in preemptive
guilt. “Courtesy of you endeavoring to grate on my nerves earlier, ironic,
isn’t it?”

At that, Baekhyun feels the tender touch of cotton dipped in something

a little cold touching his burning skin, he hisses at the stinging but
otherwise remains silent.

“You’re awfully docile today, silent too.” Chanyeol notes out with his
hand stilling, and that’s when Baekhyun’s thoughts and emotions run
off-kilter. Has he been wrong adopting this sort of reticent behavior?
Could it be Chanyeol isn’t very approving of the idea of Baekhyun on not
commenting on the things he says? Well, certainly, he almost
sentenced himself to death the couple of times he went ahead and
provided his levity on a silver platter, which leaves Baekhyun with no
explanation really. Chanyeol’s hand resumes its ministration, and
Baekhyun sighs out a sigh of relief. “Well, that taciturn demeanor
certainly doesn’t suit you.”

“How would you like me to be then, Chanyeol si?”

“My, my” Chanyeol barks a brief and fruity laugh, “Let’s dispense with
formalities, shall we?” he grins, “but you have, indeed, improved.”

“All thanks to you.” Baekhyun says in a monotone, and he tsks in an

audible sound because he is certain there’s something in the voice he
has just conducted that has had him busted.

Chanyeol tucks the cotton into a small plastic pack and back into the
small box. “Don’t wash your welts again. It might result in an infection.
Although the pain might be unbearable at first, but I’ll give you
something to relief it, understand?”

Baekhyun nods, “clearly.”

“Now,” he starts, tagging closer to Baekhyun, who starts to freak out at

the fact that Chanyeol is creeping up on him, pressing against his back
until pain shoots through him again. Baekhyun can’t help but press up
against the wall to fight his instinctive drive to flee through an open
door. “I recall telling you to show more spirit into it,” he grits out, hot
breath fanning Baekhyun’s nape. More shuffling and Chanyeol’s entire
body warmth engulfs Baekhyun. He lets out a small sigh that is too
indistinct for Chanyeol to describe. “Using that honeyed voice on me,
what do you take me for?”
Baekhyun’s hands clutch at the wall in two fists, bracing for the
oncoming torture. He can hear his breathing labored and his heartbeats
erratic. Yet he knows there is no escape from it.

In an impulsive second, Baekhyun feels a pair of soft lips on the back of

his neck, ghosting over his skin and toying with the steel collar.

“Your body,” Chanyeol whispers in a silvery voice that makes

Baekhyun’s entire body quiver with something, dare he say, exciting. “I
need only think of it, and I’m hard again.”

It pokes Baekhyun’s butt, a telltale bulge of a poorly concealed erection.

Chanyeol resumes nibbling at Baekhyun’s neck, pecking soft kisses and

purring every time Baekhyun as much as stirs. The latter is, with all
honestly, fighting to not react, but his treacherous body is already falling
under a spell, what with him sighing very deeply with his eyes closed. He
supports his forehead on the wall, hoping the cold would heal his
feverish body that is certainly not hot as a result of his recent bruises.
When Chanyeol behind one of his ears, very slowly that soft wet noises
reverberate into his ear, Baekhyun lets out a prolonged moan. The cock
poking him from behind is increasing in volume, and Baekhyun wonders
if it’s such a good idea to excite Chanyeol like that.

“You’re probably unaware of it,” Chanyeol chuckles in his deep voice,

“but you have been pressing back against my boner for a while now.”

Baekhyun’s eyes snap open at the impossible revelation, and he tries to

reel around, but Chanyeol has probably predicted a reaction like that.
He is shoving him against the wall again.
“Not so fast, tiger.” Chanyeol intones through a smirk, “not until I have
my fun with you first.”

Baekhyun bears with it with all his might. He knows one wrong word and
all this can go downhill, fast. He is not ready to sacrifice so much
knowing his friends might be the victim of his recklessness.

He will continue to bear with it.

Chanyeol’s tongue runs over the recently bruised skin of Baekhyun’s

back, and the latter whimpers at the stinging throb the action results.
His fists tighten on both sides of his head as he remains there,
supporting himself by the wall before he falls over.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol calls out in a breathy voice, “up on your knees,”

he orders, “support your weight on the wall.”

And Baekhyun, casting shame and embarrassment aside, he abides.

Chanyeol also lifts up to his knees. He works his zipper open and
pushes down his pants and his boxers. The cock Baekhyun was forced
to suck earlier is springing free again, taunting Baekhyun when it
touches the inner side of his thighs.

“Close your knees together,” Chanyeol breathes out into Baekhyun’s

ear. Both his hands are working on probing the latter’s chest, exploring
every nook and relishing the touch of smooth skin shuddering under his
fingers. Baekhyun follows the order, bringing his knees together.
Chanyeol nudges the crown of his cock along Baekhyun’s rim, slowly
pushing in.
“W-what…” Baekhyun rasps, confused and flushed all the way to his
ears.

“Don’t be such a prude now, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol chuckles, now biting

down the tip of one of his captive’s ears. “We’ve come so far,” he says,
“you already know the feeling of my cock up your ass, this isn’t so
different.”

It is, though.

Chanyeol isn’t thrusting into him; he is making use of his thighs instead.
Although he is happy that he isn’t being raped senseless, he can’t help
but wonder why this of all his schemes. Is he being considerate?

Not a chance.

“Oh,” Chanyeol drones, “What do we have here?”

Baekhyun perks up at the remark, and in mere seconds, a novel hand

cups his cock. He mewls at the sudden contact, his head tossing to the
back until it falls on Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“You’re hard.” Chanyeol comments in a shrilling tone, as though he’s

caught Baekhyun red-handed. As though the comment isn’t some
theory subsequent to some magnificent occurrence. Baekhyun would
give anything to deny that, that he is, indeed, erect. Chanyeol suddenly
starts thrusting. His thump on the crown of Baekhyun’s cock, poking it
relentlessly.
Baekhyun can feel Chanyeol’s dick hitting the back of his balls, and he
doesn’t know why, but the feeling is absolute ecstasy. Chanyeol’s
thump, although it is hurting him, he can feel precum slowly starting to
overflow.

“If you cum,” Chanyeol starts, “I’ll cut off your tongue.”

Baekhyun’s face pales at that. A numbing feeling replaces the ecstasy,

and he is then peering at the wall with a pair of terrified eyes. It’s not
that difficult of a task to not, he but needs to remember the gore that
took place in the woods and his cock will shrink.

Chanyeol’s tongue comes back again to toy with his bruises. As

Baekhyun whimpers at the resultant pain, Chanyeol’s becomes faster.
Both know that he is going to very soon, and Baekhyun is welcoming the
idea with open arms because being treated like this is more than
humiliating, it’s revolting. But he is soon robbed of his ideas when
Chanyeol pierces the skin of his shoulder with his teeth, biting on the
skin so hard that Baekhyun can’t help but let out a brittle scream.
Chanyeol is coming all over the inner side of Baekhyun’s thighs. When
he pulls away, Baekhyun falls over, palming the fresh wound.

“We’re not done yet.” Chanyeol announces atop Baekhyun; his flat
voice tells Baekhyun that is a plain order.

Baekhyun looks up through his slanted eyes, and the still-erect member
of Chanyeol’s gives him a bad feeling about how this is going to end. So
if that wasn’t enough to satisfy Chanyeol, he might eventually do it the
traditional way, except Chanyeol’s way is gorier. He can’t be satisfied if
he doesn’t hurt Baekhyun.
“Lie flat on your back,” he instructs, “Fold your knees and pull them
apart.”

Reluctantly, Baekhyun follows the precise order. Being stared at by

Chanyeol makes him feel naked, he is, but it sort of stresses the feeling
of helplessness. And as a blush blooms over his two cheeks, he brings
his arms to drape them over his face, but Chanyeol is having none of it.

“And take the fun away from it?” Chanyeol’s arrogant smirk makes its
usual appearance. “Not a chance.” Saying so, he braces his arms on
either side of Baekhyun’s head, looming in on the man beneath like a
terminating threat. At first, he rubs his cock on Baekhyun’s, and it
seems the first trial gives him the exact thing he hoped for as he
commences thrusting on his captive’s cock.

Baekhyun quickly reminds himself of the deaths back in the woods

because something strange is happening, he is getting hard again, and
worse, he is starting to feel it.

“My…” he groans, looking up at Chanyeol, “My back, you’re hurting my

back.”

Evidently, not the smartest thing to say as Chanyeol furrows and glares
down at Baekhyun who stills immediately.

But it’s really painful like this…

Chanyeol straightens up, not rubbing against Baekhyun anymore and

the latter wonders if this is when Chanyeol fishes out for a knife to cut
off his tongue. But Chanyeol, unpredictable son of a bitch that he is, he
palms his dick and begins to nudge the crown against Baekhyun’s
puckered entrance.

“No,” he perks up, propping on his elbow with a hand and swatting at
Chanyeol’s shoulder with the other, “no, you can’t. I’m hurt!” He
protests, vehemently. “You absolutely can’t.”

Chanyeol slaps Baekhyun’s hand away as though he’s just been

touched with something so vile that he was afraid it’d taint him. And
honestly, Baekhyun does feel tainted. He feels as though he could taint
anything with just a touch. That he is unclean, inside out, that a worm
like him deserves everything that happens to it, and maybe more.

“Don’t you understand?” Chanyeol wonders loudly. “I want it to hurt

you,” he says, “Believe me, when I’m done with you, you’re going to beg
me for this.”

“I’ll bite off my own tongue,” Baekhyun threatens, rules be damned, he

is not getting fucked in the ass, not again. “Probably save you the
trouble.”

Chanyeol tilts his head. “Such false integrity,” he intones, “when you
have already been dirtied, reduced to nothing but the filth I step on with
my boots.”

Baekhyun’s face twitches, his eyebrows, his pupils, and his lips. And he
is pushing them back, but he fails utterly when his tears fall down his
cheeks.
The last thing he needed is someone below him wording his worst fears
for him.

“Don’t act so high and mighty now,” Chanyeol gives a scornful sneer,
“have you already forgotten how you sucked me dry in here,” at this, he
thumps Baekhyun’s lips before inserting it in, pressing against his
tongue. “You looked like a cock-crazed slut to me.”

Baekhyun’s flat hand plunges forward on its own accord, aiming

Chanyeol’s face, the latter catches it midair and smirks at the man
beneath.

“How refreshing,” He hums, amusement latent in his voice. “Now why

don’t you be the slut you are for my cock and lie back. Let me have
some fun?”

In the end, it’s all meaningless. It’s always been, always will be.

A knock on the slightly ajar door brings them to a cautious pause, and
then a three-shelf trolley table lined with a lot of food is being pushed
through the door followed by a tall man dressed in black trousers, a six-
button double-ed tailcoat, and a white dress shirt. The young man also
wears round glasses, sports white gloves and shiny black loafers.

“Oh,” Chanyeol beams, “Just in time, Pyo Ji-hoon.”

Baekhyun rushes to sit properly after the young man, Jihoon, eyes him
with such heavy-lidded eyes.
“Sir,” Jihoon bows his head slightly, “I’ve brought what you asked for.”

“Never mind that,” Chanyeol waves it off with a delicate hand. He looks
down at the man beneath trying, so desperately, to bring his knees back
together to protect himself from more humiliation. It’s amusing judging
by his sneer. “I need you with this one,” he says, “chain his wrists.”

Jihoon bows in such sickening obedience “Yes sir.”

Just as Chanyeol retreats to the settee, Jihoon approaches Baekhyun.

The latter worms back until he meets the wall again, but eventually
capitulates to his fate as Jihoon grasps one of his flailing arms and pulls
him to the center where he is only a foot away from the settee Chanyeol
is currently occupying. Then, he brings the chains that are hooked to the
ceiling, loosens them a bit and starts binding each of Baekhyun’s wrists.

“Well done.” Chanyeol compliments the strange man, the latter bows
again, wording his happiness for meeting his expectation. He walks up
to the settee and stands beside Chanyeol. The two of them look down
at Baekhyun who is pulling against the chains, willing them to give
already, of course, they don’t. “That’s where you belong.”

On his knees, he is bound and humiliated. Is that really where he

belongs?

There’s a laugh that vibrates within his chest before he throws his head
to the back, laughing out loud until his neck hurts. Indeed, it is revolting,
but what redeems it is the idea that it was Chanyeol who subjected him
to all this, it wasn’t a choice of his free will. When the laughter morphs
into a chuckle and then decrescendos to a mere hum, Baekhyun looks
up into Chanyeol’s blank eyes, amusement in his own, “This is where I
belong? Don’t kid yourself, asshole.” He starts, “You’re a cheat,” he
says. “All the way in, and all the way out.”

Chanyeol’s eyebrows do a slight twitch.

“I can’t put up a decent fight because you’re starving me to death,

making use of my epilepsy to flaunt about your false strength, but you
and I both know that bragging about that to someone whom you’ve
robbed of any means to defend himself is cheap.” He shrugs. “So don’t
go thinking you’re better than me, in fact, you’re lower.” He smirks at
his captor. “You’re the lowest, Chanyeol.”

It’s as though in a slow motion: Chanyeol’s right hand balls into a fist
and launches to Baekhyun’s face. Although the latter sees it coming, he
but smirks vaguely and lets it happen. Only, it comes to a sudden halt
when it’s only a millimeter away from his cheek.

“Chickening out, how unusual!” Baekhyun chuckles, taking his eyes off
of the fisted hand and back to Chanyeol’s fuming eyes.

“Jihoon,” the said man suddenly calls out, “prepare him for me.”

But Jihoon, wide-eyed and still, is momentarily only staring at Baekhyun

that it makes the latter inwardly recoil.

“Jihoon!” Chanyeol’s voice calls louder this time, “do I have to repeat
myself?”
The man, servant most likely, bows and apologizes, and then he goes
about to follow the order. And as Baekhyun stiffens, readying himself for
the ‘preparation,’ his eyes fall on Chanyeol’s wicked ones, ridiculing him
silently. Jihoon pulls the service table to him, that’s behind Baekhyun so
he can’t see what’s going on.

“I preferred you docile, although conversely, I don’t quite dislike this

side of you either,” Chanyeol comments, “it’s more thrilling this way.”

Baekhyun hardens his gaze.

“Unfortunately for you,” he continues, “you’re not getting any treats.”

“I’d rather die than eat something I was fucked in the ass for.” He
counters, “Obedience, gratitude? What are you, a kid? I cleaned myself
and the floor earlier because I couldn’t stand the filth, not because I
wanted to please you.” He huffs. “You’re so full of yourself,” he grits out,
ignoring how enraged Chanyeol is looking at him. “If you want
everything cleaned, why don’t you hire a servant?”

Chanyeol props his cheek on his knuckles with his elbow on the
armrest; his eyes now look dull.

Novel hands, sickening to the touch, roam over his body. Darn, he had
completely forgotten about Jihoon when he was rebuking Chanyeol.
Now his breath hitches down his throat when those hands, although
gloved, they start to sense along with his rim.

So that’s what Chanyeol meant by ‘prepare.’

A finger teases him before it’s inserted in, and Baekhyun squirms under
the pull of the chains, detesting the feeling of being groped and
prodded. Chanyeol then brings his foot and tramples on Baekhyun’s
cock; the latter mewls at the rough treatment, and ends up whimpering
when Chanyeol stomps harder. Jihoon inserts a second finger, crooks it
within until it grazes something that immediately makes Baekhyun
moan.

“Lowest, you say?” Chanyeol’s deep voice replaces the muffled noises,
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” He chided, coolly. “Just look at
yourself, getting hard from two men molesting you. Is there any lower
than that?”

As though deciphering some meaning, Jihoon pushes in a third finger

now, twisting them inside to rub the prostate.

Baekhyun looks down at his own erection; his entire face flushes at
sight. He feels the fingers stretching him ruthlessly, almost tearing his
round flesh. A relief overwhelms him when those fingers are yanked out,
but it’s short-lived as they get replaced by something much solid, colder,
and bigger.

“Jihoon,” Chanyeol murmurs in a jaded tone, “some input is required for

my slut here.”

“Very well, sir.” The young man speaks, “I have inserted a curved plug
for extra sensation,” he says, now, he rotates the said plug and
Baekhyun’s entire body trembles. “The curved shape of this plug is
specifically designed to target the prostate gland, granted, the extra
weight of the metal device also adds more sensation, stimulation can
thus lead to trembling orgasms.”
“However,” Chanyeol swings his index, “the object of this is not to make
you feel good, is it?”

Baekhyun shoots a nasty glare at the man, for generally toying with his
body however he wants. He, then, hears soft rattling, as though
someone is rummaging through something. Then Jihoon is lifting
Baekhyun’s slippery cock, strokes it with his hand that feels like it’s
covered with something liquid and slimy. Baekhyun guesses it’s lube. A
steel loop comes into view in Jihoon’s other hand. He opens it and
places it on the area where Baekhyun’s penis and balls meet, and then
a spiral device is cupped on his cock. Baekhyun watches, awed and
horrified, as Jihoon comes with padlock and puts it on through a thread
that connects the ring and the cock cage, and locks it. He switches his
attention to Baekhyun’s chest, brings the clamps and pegs them to
each of Baekhyun’s nipples, and then he moves away, walks up to
Chanyeol again and hands him the keys.

The hand that is not supporting the weight of his Chanyeol’s head lifts
up and beckons Baekhyun to come closer, which the man does after he
chances a fleeting glance at Chanyeol’s dead eyes. But the moment he
shuffles, the thing plugged into his butt brushes against his P-gland,
and Baekhyun stills, forces his eyes shut and tries to breathe through it.
But he knows Chanyeol hates to wait, so he grits his teeth and crawls
his way to Chanyeol. The latter takes his cock out from the unzipped fly.
He looks at Baekhyun and then cards his fingers through the latter’s
brown hair, gentle strokes providing false comfort. Baekhyun’s chin
dips, he hates this –he loathes it, last time, he almost choked to death
because Chanyeol pushed all the way to the back of his throat.
Eventually, he swallows his pride and parts his lips, slowly taking the
half-erect penis in his mouth.

Chanyeol excluded, Baekhyun never sucked a cock before. As a matter

of fact, he never had his cock sucked. He has absolutely no recollection
of how this is done. In retrospect, he did come across some gay videos
when he was still discovering the world of stimulator through ion, and
honestly, he never thought he’d be subjected to off a man.

“Diving straight in,” Chanyeol scoffs, his fingers still stroking Baekhyun’s
scalp, “hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

It’s not even been a minute since Baekhyun started bobbing down and
up on Chanyeol’s cock, taking it and then drawing back to the tip,
sucking shallowly and then diving in again. Chanyeol is rock hard in his
mouth.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Baekhyun smirks once he pulls back, lips
swollen and wet, “getting like this from a slut sucking you off.”

The fingers on Baekhyun’s hair clench until he winces, and then he is

pulled down, mouth on the cock covered in precum. “If you have time to
chat, you should finish off properly.”

Baekhyun’s anxiety shoots to the ceiling because Chanyeol is thrusting

into his mouth again, choking him.

“Jihoon.”

Moments later, Baekhyun starts feeling Jihoon playing with the plug
inside him rubbing his prostate. He can’t help the moans that escape
him and fan on the tip of Chanyeol’s cock in his mouth. His nipples are
tugged at by the clamps and he genuinely wants some relief, but the
ring on his cock is blocking him, denying him of a much-needed orgasm.
“You want to cum, don’t you?” Chanyeol chuckles darkly. “I’ll make you
a deal, if you beg for my cock, I’ll unlock the cage.” Saying so, he pulls
his cock out of Baekhyun’s mouth, giving him a chance to reply.

“An integrative bargaining, is it?” Baekhyun comments after spitting

aside.

“No more unilateral actions,” Chanyeol confirms, “just say the magic
word and you’ll find relief.”

“Are you joking?” Baekhyun chides, “Why would I beg for your dick when
Jihoon here is doing a terrific job of making me feel good?” he asks,
albeit rhetorical so Chanyeol remains silent, “you’re like a child, relying
on brute force, couldn’t even make me hard in both times.”

This time, the punch does land on Baekhyun’s cheek. And instead of
precum, he rolls his chin and spits blood, and then he looks up at
Chanyeol. “See?” he reminds, “Brute.”

“You just had to have the last word, didn’t you?” Chanyeol grits out, now
slowly lifting up to his feet. “Jihoon, leave.”

Said man bows and retreats from the room. The door creaks and closes
shut.

Baekhyun, for some mysterious reason, he is not scared. He did screw

with Chanyeol’s mind, provoking him like that, but it’s as he said,
Chanyeol is exactly like a child, too self-conceited to see what’s really
important. And he knows the man is going to punish him, but this is
where it gets fun, Even though he will punish him, Chanyeol won’t make
any threats, won’t even bring up Hongbin.

Through the punishment, he will try to prove himself.

Childish, isn’t he?

Chanyeol aims the buttplug, yanks it out and throws it aside. Instead, he
replaces it with his cock, pushing it in without any hesitation until
Baekhyun falls over but the chains keep him up.

“I’ll show you,” Chanyeol promises, “you’re going to beg for it.”

Baekhyun is glad; he is so glad that Chanyeol can’t see his face from
this position, that he can’t see his smirk.

Baekhyun, as Chanyeol promised, is on the verge of begging, he wants

to come at least once, what with Chanyeol quitting thrusting to hit his
prostate but grinding into it instead, rubbing it with such eagerness.

“Stop…” Baekhyun moans on the gasps. “Stop grinding into me!”

Chanyeol ignores the request completely as he engrosses himself in

sucking Baekhyun’s neck. “The magic word, Baekhyun, come on.”

Chanyeol has lifted Baekhyun on his lap and is currently grinding into
him, delicious squelches result from the action. Because Chanyeol
already came before between Baekhyun’s thighs, he is dragging this on
and enjoying himself.

Baekhyun’s entire body is hot and trembling. His cock is swelling, about
to burst. A game or not, he needs relief, he needs it now. “I want…” he
rasps breathlessly, “to... I want to cum already.”

Chanyeol brings his mouth to Baekhyun’s ear, “I don’t give a fuck what
you want.”

The hot breath tingles down there, and Baekhyun arches a little off of
Chanyeol, here, he can come at that, just, if the damn ring could go off.
“Chanyeol, please” he whimpers, the tears he fought to keep held in,
they fall down his cheeks. “Please help, I’m begging you. I’ll burst.”

Chanyeol lets out a sweet chuckle, one of his hand brings a tiny key to
the cock cage, unlocks the padlock and takes it off. The ring comes off
next, and then all the blood rushes to Baekhyun’s cock, the tingle and
the dizziness. Baekhyun can finally come, but suddenly, Chanyeol
thrusts into his captive and in the same time, he bites hard on
Baekhyun’s already bruised shoulder.

Baekhyun’s vision goes white as him, at last, arrives. He tosses his

head to the back, assured Chanyeol would shoulder his head. He enjoys
him with a brittle shout.

Chanyeol takes his dick out and cums all over Baekhyun’s ass and the
floor, coating it milky white. “Whether you realize it or not,” Chanyeol
speaks, his hand coming to Baekhyun’s hair, combing it with his fingers.
“You’re not invincible, Baekhyun,” he reveals, “remember that.”
Baekhyun swallows and lifts his head off of the other’s shoulder; he
looks down at his penis, red and swollen, nonetheless relieved.

Chanyeol adjusts his clothes and stands up, aiming the table, “Although
I’m partial to the thrill you give me,” he says, “I must say, docile or not,
you definitely deserve a treat for begging.”

Baekhyun winces and his shoulders tense, he looks down, ashamed

that he fell for his desires to even lift his head.

“There’s food, and oh look, a blanket.” Chanyeol gushed, “a bar of soap,

too.”

Baekhyun isn’t feeling so triumphant.

“Which one do you want first?” Chanyeol asks, “Or maybe, you can have
them all.” So out of the blue, he starts pouring the contents of the
dishes onto the ground, kimchi stew, spaghetti, beef soup… all mingling
on the already dirtied floor.

Baekhyun’s heart twists with that, all that food getting thrown when he
himself is starving, so what is Chanyeol expecting him to lick it off the
floor?

“Whoops,” Chanyeol intones, “it looks like I dirtied the floor. But it’s
alright, I’m sure a person such as yourself, who is absolutely appalled
by filth, would clean it up.”
Saying so, he tosses the blanket and the soap on the settee –thank
God for that or Baekhyun would have to cover himself with something
so disgusting– ups and leaves, taking the trolley table with him. Didn’t
even unchain Baekhyun’s wrists, there’s no one to clean this mess.

“So fucking childish.” Baekhyun grits out.

Chapter Eight

Baekhyun never predicted the next time Jihoon would walk through that
door to help him through his pain, his injuries and the mess Chanyeol
created before finally vanishing without a word. The usual, Baekhyun
thinks it’s the usual. So, when Jihoon removes Baekhyun’s chains, he
hoists him up, and grunts as Baekhyun starts squirming. The bigger
man assures Baekhyun that he only means well, and that he is here
with orders from Chanyeol to clean him up and feed him. Baekhyun
stills. He is partially relieved that he doesn’t have to endeavor to pry it
out of him: the reason Jihoon is loyal to Chanyeol to a fault. He also
marvels at the fact that he, at last, can eat some food. He sits still and
lets Jihoon take the wheel from there.
For the next two days or so –Baekhyun isn’t really sure because time
seems to pass really slowly in this place–Jihoon is the only one who
shows up at the dungeon, either to clean Baekhyun up or to feed him.
However, for both days, it doesn’t go peacefully because Jihoon, once
he had Baekhyun returned to his spot and chained down, would put a
silicone plug into Baekhyun’s entrance and leave it there until he had to
clean him up again. And with all things considered, Baekhyun has a
pretty decent idea about the reason why.

Today, Baekhyun’s entire body is feeling quite heavy for some reason,
but that’s not today’s milestone. It makes it the third time Jihoon
appears in Chanyeol’s stead, and Baekhyun is relieved, more or less.
It’d have rattled his core if Chanyeol continued to starve him; although,
that’s partially his own fault since he’s the one who has been acting
pretty high about it. Jihoon is bringing food again and he helps
Baekhyun eat, cleans his mouth, and straightens his hair. Baekhyun’s
eyes are attentive. He knows Jihoon is going to be messing with him
next, so he braces for it. Getting probed like that –he grits his teeth–
he’d never get used to it. As expected, Jihoon works next on rotating the
plug, massaging the inner gland in a way that makes it impossible for
Baekhyun not to have any sort of reaction. His precum spurts and plops
onto the enamel, slick and transparent.

Jihoon stops abruptly, standing up to double-check the chains. As he

does that, Baekhyun’s eyes fall on the bulge growing in size under the
man’s trousers. It horrifies him. He finds Jihoon looking back at him with
dead eyes, so he quickly looks away, huffing. “You’re sick, all of you.”

This is torture. This is what torture really is. You can’t just fuck around
with a man’s prostate gland like that and let him deal with it on his own
while his hands are tied. But worse than that is that his entire body is in
flames. He can even feel the metal on both of his wrists heating up, so
he concludes that his fever is going up at an alarming rate.
The lights stream all over the room, almost blinding him if he did not
hide his eyes under his upper arm.

“You don’t look so good.”

That voice. A deep voice that, to Baekhyun’s chagrin, has managed to

plant terror into him; a voice that could make him tremble with only a
whisper.

Baekhyun’s bleary eyes haven’t adapted yet to the lights, but he finds it
less painful when he squints up at the white silhouette before him.
“Yeol…”

“Tell me where it hurts.”

Baekhyun’s lids open wider, eyes analyzing the lab coat, the glasses,
and the dark colored clothing underneath. He finally settles on
Chanyeol’s eyes, and something in them makes him shrink in on
himself.

“’Guess I’ll just have to help myself then.”

Baekhyun suddenly feels cold fingers feeling his forehead; the

sensation is unbelievable for a moment.

“It seems you’re running a bit of a fever.” Chanyeol retrieves his hand
back. “I guess the wounds on your back have became infected, nothing
to worry about though. It’s because you haven’t been keeping a healthy
diet that your body isn’t able to fight off viruses as it should.”
That’s a relief for you. Baekhyun is happy his insides aren’t rotting away
or anything. But that doesn’t mean an infection isn’t just as bad.
However, since Chanyeol caught it early, he’s sure the doctor, however
psychotic he might be, won’t let him die from some mere infection. Well,
since it’s been a few days since Baekhyun has seen his abductor, this
reunion rather emphasizes everything that has happened lately, and
Baekhyun is crushed with all sorts of feelings. When he looks up, his
eyes are more focused now. He shudders.

Chanyeol is looking back at him, but there’s a wild smile creeping up his
lips.

“What’s with you, psychotic doctor?” Baekhyun starts, brows meeting in

a deep furrow on his clammy forehead. “Happy that I got sick?”

“No, I’m not.” Chanyeol denies, yet his smile is still plastered on his
face.

“Then why are you smiling?”

Chanyeol’s eyes glint. “I was just thinking,” he starts. His smile turns
predatory. “It’d be so damn hot to fuck you while you’re feverish.”

Baekhyun’s gulp echoes across the room.

Chanyeol then barks a laugh. “You don’t have to look so horrified,” he

says, “I’m just sharing my fantasies with you. What’s wrong about that?”
Without adding anything else, Chanyeol unchains Baekhyun’s right wrist
and leads him to the wall at the back.

“For certain reasons, I can’t take you out of this room.” Saying so, he
crouches beside the other and lets out a prolonged sigh. Now he
elaborates. “I know how you must be feeling right now but bear with it
for a couple more days. For me, okay?” His hand darts to the other’s
bruised neck, fondling the injuries he inflicted himself.

Baekhyun’s entire body is hot. He feels so hot that his skin might
actually melt off. And his breathing, it’s just too erratic to sound normal.
Maybe he is dying. Who gives a damn anymore? He is too groggy to
even think straight. Fevers do that, right?

When he lifts himself up, shaky knees threaten to buckle beneath him.
He chalks it up to his fevered delirium as he inches his unchained hand
toward his throbbing heat after making sure Chanyeol was still watching
him. He cups his own cock.

Chanyeol’s face morphs from that of a stoic medical professional

tending to his patient, to a wild animal salivating at the sight of
delicious prey.

Baekhyun doesn’t know what he is doing anymore. He blames his body.

Yes, it’s easier like that. His treacherous body trembles every single
time Chanyeol’s fingers touch him. Chanyeol made him like this. He
desecrated him, and he taught him how to be easily debilitated.
Baekhyun’s hand starts moving up and down his shaft, and moaning
lustfully every time the plug brushes against his G-spot.
“No way,” Chanyeol gushes, repositioning himself properly on his
haunches. “You’re actually going to give me that.” It’s a clear statement.

Baekhyun’s ‘fevered delirium’ gifts him with more crafty ideas. Although
he doesn’t know why his body can’t obey him–won’t obey him, he ends
up giving in to that side: the side he never knew he had in him.

His chained arm pulls against the metal, desperate to join its twin in
stimulating the head of his cock. Baekhyun’s hip shifts a little to cause
more friction down inside, and it comes out with amazing results. He
feels his climax closing in on him so his body arches off the wall while
his head rests on it. A few more strokes, and he cums all over his hand.
He finally looks away from the ceiling and down at Chanyeol. His cheeks
flushed and his eyes bleary, and although he is feverish and delirious,
he doesn’t fail to see Chanyeol’s tongue snaking out across his upper
lip as though he wanted to devour him right then. Baekhyun smirks to
himself and uses that hand covered in cum to touch the scar on
Chanyeol’s face, leaving a long trail of cum on the latter's scarred
cheek.

It’s as though a button has been switched and Chanyeol darts forward,
pushing Baekhyun against the wall, fervent and greedy. “You’re
resilient,” he comments, “You’re so fucking resilient I’m lucky.”

Baekhyun feels his body being maneuvered so that he is facing the wall
instead. Then, the plug is roughly pulled out of him and he can’t help
but let out a gasp.

“You’re dripping away down here.” Saying so, Chanyeol nudges

Baekhyun’s entrance with the crown of his cock. “This is going to feel so
good, for the both of us of course.”
Without meaning to, Baekhyun pushes against the cock poking his
anus. Because it’s so slippery, the other’s cock ends up sliding along
Baekhyun’s rim. The latter moans his dissatisfaction shamelessly.

“Whoa,” Chanyeol chuckles deeply next to Baekhyun’s ear. “You’re so

greedy for me today. What happened”–he uses his tongue to fondle
Baekhyun’s hot earlobe–“did you miss me?”

Baekhyun’s back arches against the voice that sends sensual tremors
all over his body. He looks at Chanyeol’s face, the latter’s jawline right in
front of his mouth. He can’t resist it so he parts his teeth and bites the
man’s jawline. The latter lets out a pleasurable sigh, his cock
penetrating Baekhyun on its own accord.

Chanyeol chuckles again, his hands now immobilizing the other from his
hip bones. He starts thrusting into Baekhyun, driven wilder by the
wetness and heat with his head tossed to the back, and his eyes wide
and unbelieving.

“This…” he mumbles through his moans. “What the…” He tries again as

Chanyeol keeps on jerking his hips in a blur. “So amazing… feels so
good…”

Chanyeol gives him more time to enjoy this feeling. Besides, Baekhyun,
forever obstinate and self-righteous, coming undone so wantonly like a
bitch in heat makes Chanyeol even hornier.

The sound of skin slapping skin, the breathless mumbles, and the
wetness loosing up for Chanyeol is too overwhelming. He needs to have
a rein on this. He has to.
“I also get something from this, J,” he suddenly informs after Baekhyun
spurts his cum onto the tiled wall. “It’s tedious without the thrill.”

Baekhyun is too lost in this new sensation of fulfillment to pay attention

to anything else really, so he gets quite the shock when Chanyeol grabs
the chain still attached to his left hand and wraps it around his neck.
The problem with the chain is that the more you pull against it, the
tighter it becomes. So the minute Chanyeol wraps the chain on his
neck, Baekhyun’s lungs start to feel suffocated. The more Chanyeol
thrusts into him, the harder it is to breathe.

“Now that’s a charming sound,” Chanyeol comments after Baekhyun

lets out choked off gasps. “See? This brings satisfaction for both of us.”

Instead of being horrified, Baekhyun’s penis twitches and becomes

hard again. He feels Chanyeol’s hands touching his back gently, if his
current mind is of any reliable source.

“Your back, Baek,” Chanyeol pants hotly, “it’s so sexy.” The gentle
touches become merciless, clawing Baekhyun’s skin as though trying to
tear his way in. Baekhyun mewls in pain again, and the mewl changes
into a scream. Just like that, Chanyeol releases his load in one major
spurt.

***

Baekhyun’s been waking up and drifting off back to sleep again for
some undetermined time now. He remembers seeing Jihoon around in
the lab wing: tending to him, feeding him, keeping him hydrated, and
keeping him clean. When his fever was finally brought down by Jihoon’s
remarkable skills and dedication, Baekhyun finds that he’s been
sleeping on a memory foam mattress with nothing else on but his
boxers and a chain around his neck. That really shouldn’t be the biggest
of his worries.

Jihoon is here again, taking his temperature and allowing his hands to
wander all over Baekhyun’s body. After a while, Baekhyun finally can’t
tolerate it as he clutches the man’s wrists and digs his nails into the
skin, just to make his point.

“I think I’ve had my share of getting prodded by you.” He grits out, giving
the hands a hefty shove. “You can stop now.”

Jihoon acknowledges his request for the time being, but something
dangerous flashes in his eyes as he eyes his scratched wrists. “I
understand,” he says, “I’ll be reporting back to young master then.”

Just as he stands from his crouch, Baekhyun calls for him. “Wait, young
master?”

Jihoon eyes him with a vague look. “Park Chanyeol is the young
master.”

Like that didn’t reveal itself when Jihoon first called Chanyeol 'sire.'
Baekhyun isn’t an idiot. He figured it out, and the only reason he’s
asking now is to urge Jihoon to elaborate. Of course, he isn’t interested
in Chanyeol’s social life, but whatever he can learn here today from this
blank-faced guy could really help him out in ways he can’t even know
yet.
“So what,” Baekhyun scoffs, “is this some ‘son of the owner turned evil’
saga, and you’re the butler keeping things in check?” he says, grating a
little on the other’s nerves–if he has any–so he can spill what he knows.

“I’m not allowed to talk about anything to you,” Jihoon informs with
impassive eyes.

“Humor me,” Baekhyun bites out, “I’m tucked between four walls, man.
You and that asshole are the only things keeping me occupied–and not
in a fun way, if you catch my drift.” He winks at the man.

Jihoon cocks his head at Baekhyun, making him fidget a little under the
piercing glare. “It’s no secret so it couldn’t possibly be important,” he
tells him. “Chanyeol inherited this mansion from his parents who died in
a car accident three years ago. My master was studying medicine
abroad at that time before he came back and set up shop here,
preferring to have his own clinic,” he says with a premature smirk. “The
mansion consists of three floors: the first one, which is the one at the
very top, is my master’s personal suite, if you will; the second one is the
clinic; and the third, which was built underground, is the dungeon,
where you currently are.”

Baekhyun processes the information with a thoughtful expression.

“That’ll be all for today,” Jihoon intones, “I’ll come back later.”

“Wait!” Baekhyun calls out again, “My friend. When can I see my friend
again?”

“That is not for me to decide,” Jihoon tells him in monotone.

“Then go tell Chanyeol for me.” Baekhyun’s eyes quiver as he looks up
at the butler. “Tell him that I requested this. Please.”

He studies the captive for a moment before he walks away, making his
way to the door. Baekhyun’s eyes are scrutinizing the retreating figure.
As soon as Jihoon leaves the lab, Baekhyun examines the length of the
chain on his neck and he finds that it reaches the bottom left corner of
the room, deeply inserted into the wall. Someone must have been
crafting ideas, architecting ways to entomb him in this sickening room.

So this dungeon is the basement of the clinic, which means there’s

some way out. Chanyeol and his minions walk in and out freely so that
probably entails an elevator, or a staircase if Baekhyun is lucky. And
Hongbin is in the room just down the hall, assuming that he is still near
the room he had been at when he was first brought here. The main
reason Baekhyun asked to see his friend is just so he is sure he’s in
one piece for when he comes to save him.

He only realizes that he’s nodded off when he jerks awake, sits up and
there they are: Hongbin and the butler guy, Jihoon. They are standing on
the right side of the red settee with Chanyeol slumped on it, leaning
forward with elbows on knees, a sneer cramping his lips.

Baekhyun shoots towards his friend, but the backlash from the chain
pulling taut against his neck sends him sprawling backward onto the
mattress with a gasped grunt.

“Easy there, tiger,” Chanyeol drawls. “You’ll hurt your throat.”

Baekhyun grimaces when his throat throbs from that impact. He
uprights himself and pushes down the instinct to bolt toward Hongbin,
instead taking a moment to eye his friend. And then he sees his
blindfolded eyes, and something like extreme relief washes over him.
Other than that, Hongbin seems fit as a fiddle– scared, and trembling
with fear, but he’ll worry about his emotional trauma when they get out
of this place, alive. He fixates Chanyeol with a cold glare now.

“When I said I wanted to see him,” he starts, “this is not what I had in
mind.”

Chanyeol tilts his head and waves it in a long, slow shake. “True,” he
comments, “but you’re forgetting something.”

Baekhyun’s eyes narrow at the other.

Chanyeol latches onto the chain around Baekhyun’s neck and tugs,
pulling his captive along. The settee is placed just at the rim of the
mattress, and it isn’t all too hard for Baekhyun to guess the reason why
as his captor seats himself atop its cushions and drags Baekhyun down
between his parted legs. Chanyeol brings Baekhyun’s nose to his, and
Baekhyun has to sit on his knees and hands to keep the position.

“You said you wanted to see your friend. Although it’s hectic upstairs, I
still brought him to you, and what do I get in return?” He taps
Baekhyun’s cheek in light slaps. “You… wicked little shit,” he bellows,
“You can’t even thank me for my efforts.”

Without his consent, Baekhyun’s hands clandestinely take Chanyeol’s

left one that’s still pressing the chain down, and he kisses it. “I’m very
grateful to you. Thank you so much for bringing my friend to me. I can’t
believe what a merciful man you are towards someone so ungrateful
like me.”

Chanyeol looks taken aback for a fragment of a second before he

smirks. “That’s more like it,” he chirps. “Now you can have that friend
reunion you wanted with him, but make it quick.”

Baekhyun nods to the man and faces his friend. “Lu?”

Hongbin, dressed in white shorts and plain T, stiffens. “Baekhyun, is

that really you?”

Baekhyun almost breaks at his incredulous tone; he must have thought

Baekhyun was dead all this time. “Yea, yea,” he assures him with a
warm smile. “Are you injured? They don’t hurt you, do they?”

Hongbin shakes his head fervently. “And your epilepsy,” he says, “your
head took quite the trauma last time I saw you.”

“I’m okay,” he says before pausing. Taking in what he’d just said,
Baekhyun furrowed his brow in thought. “Actually, I haven’t had a
seizure in a while now.”

“That’s”–Chanyeol perks up–“because I healed it.” He lifts himself up,

sidesteps the mattress, then flops down beside Baekhyun and lets out
a sigh. “We can do that entire explanation thing later,” he says with a
slight eye-roll. “Now...” He ghosts his hands over Baekhyun’s back. The
bruises are healing beautifully. “Looking at you guys talk, I suddenly feel
like I want to be part of this.”
Baekhyun, for the sake of his friend and the daunting thought that he
might get beheaded in front of his eyes, lets Chanyeol do as he pleases
with him.

“You see, Hongbin, your friend and I are very close now,” he starts,
smirking cheekily at Baekhyun, whose eyes are widening in shock.
“Umm no, that’s not it.” He shakes his head. “We’re intimate now. Yea,
that about covers it.”

“Baekhyun.” Hongbin clears his throat nervously. “What’s he on about?”

“Nothing,” Baekhyun provides hastily. “It’s a crazy man’s talk.”

Chanyeol’s hand clutches Baekhyun’s hair from the back, pulls him so
his lips are on Baekhyun’s ear. “I can play this game,” he proclaims. “If I
remembered correctly, Hongbin,” he tells the young man, “you had a
girlfriend, right?”

Both friends tense.

Chanyeol tightens his grip on Baekhyun hair. “What? You didn’t expect
me to run a little background on my pets?” he jokes. “Say, you must
have had sex with her many times. I’m sure it felt great, and I don’t
want to hear the story, but what about your childhood friend here.”

“What’ you doing?” Baekhyun hisses.

Chanyeol jerks his head to silence him. “I’m talking now, love, don’t
interrupt.” He scoffs, “So I was saying, ever seen your friend in some
compromising position before?”

“What are you talking about you sick bastard!” Hongbin roars. “What did
you do to Sojin? Where’s she?”

Baekhyun is proud of his friend’s fighting spirit.

“Don’t be so difficult, Hongbin.” He chuckles, “I asked you a question,

stop whining.”

“Why would I listen to you?” he bawls, tears falling like a torrent.

Chanyeol lets out a little sigh and pulls Baekhyun’s ear to his mouth
again. “Let’s play a game, shall we?” he whispers into his captive’s ear.
“Every time he refuses to answer a question, you’ll take the brunt.”

Baekhyun shakes his head because he knows how dangerous and

degrading the man’s games are. “No, no,” he refuses doggedly, still in a
whisper. “You can’t. No, you can’t.”

Chanyeol considers it through a thoughtful silence and then his lips curl
up in a wicked smirk. “I sort of think I can.” Saying so, he looks at
Hongbin again. “So Hongbin, ever seen your friend having sex before?”

Hongbin scrunches his face up despite the blindfold hiding his eyes.
“What kind of sick question is that?”
Chanyeol mumbles a ‘one’ before he plants himself behind Baekhyun
and pushes him down, so they’re reclining on their sides. “Say, Hongbin,
ever heard your friend moan like a whore?”

“You’re sick.” Hongbin breathes out, chiding. “You need to get the hell
lobotomized out of you!”

Chanyeol chuckles on a mumbled ‘two’ before he unzips his fly and

takes out his cock.

“Bin, just ans–” Baekhyun almost finishes his sentence, but Chanyeol’s
hand cups his mouth to stop him.

“No cheating,” he whispers into Baekhyun’s ear.

“What’ you doing to my friend?” he rebukes, tensing in Jihoon’s hands.

“I have another question for you, Hongbin.” Chanyeol muses, a hand

stroking Baekhyun’s hipbone. “Ever seen your friend get fucked balls
deep?”

“Baekhyun!” Hongbin calls out suddenly. “What’s he been doing to you?

Don’t fall for his tricks; we’ll get out of here, okay. Just get it together!
You hear me?”

Baekhyun’s eyelids flutter before he looks down, letting the inevitable

happen.
“He’s just screwed you over, your childhood friend.” Chanyeol lets out a
hearty laugh, now lifting Baekhyun’s leg from the thigh so he can insert
his cock in.

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun sees no other way out of this but resorting to

the thing he absolutely despises. “Please, Chanyeol. Not like this, I’ll do
anything for you, just not this.”

“You’re such a fascinating creature, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol snorts. “You

always seem to think that this is about what you want or what makes
you feel good, but it’s not. How many times do I have to say it?”

Hongbin is still grumbling about his friend’s wellbeing, not really having
an ounce of an idea about what’s really going on.

Baekhyun clutches at the mattress, his eyes shutting too forcefully.

“Chanyeol, I’m begging you,” he pleads croakily. “Don’t do this to me.
Chanyeol please, I’ll die. I’ll seriously go out of my mind if you do this.”

Chanyeol nudges the head of his dick against that entrance. “Umm,
now I’m having second thoughts.”

Baekhyun’s stomach churns with the sudden flicker of hope. “Anything,

Chanyeol, anything you want. I promise, just not this.”

“You’re pretty smart; I give you that.” Chanyeol drones. “Making it sound
like it's about what I want when you and I both know that’s not the case.
Wow. But you know what, this is what I want.” Saying so, he forwards
his hips and pushes into Baekhyun. The latter slaps a hand over his
own mouth to keep from letting out any sounds, but he fails eventually
when Chanyeol snaps his hips so quickly, stretching him wide,
spreading his flesh. “But I still love it when you beg.”

“Baek...” Hongbin croaks. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“I’m… fine.” Baekhyun rasps in between stifled moans and low

whimpers. “Don’t… worry.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol sing-

songs, joyfully. “Hey, Hongbin,” he calls after pausing, and Baekhyun
beside him is breathing so hard by now. “Keep your mouth shut for a
second. If you distract me again, I’ll snap, and believe me, you won’t
like me if I snap.”

“Why,” Hongbin grouses. “What are you planning to do to him?”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Chanyeol grouses. “Jihoon, if he speaks

again, snap his neck.”

Hongbin immediately stills.

“Bin,” Baekhyun rasps out. “Just do what he says, I’m begging you.”

Said man lets out a tiny sob and Baekhyun’s hands are kind of busy so
he can’t kiss his pain away. He is sorry for his friend, though, that he is
here, witnessing what’s being done to him.
“Jeez, Baekhyun, you’re no fun anymore.” Chanyeol grumbles,
uninterestedly. “Begging everyone for everything”

“Just get it over with, you bastard.” Baekhyun’s voice is flat.

Chanyeol shifts their position so that Baekhyun is facing the mattress

and his ass in the air for Chanyeol to pound. And Chanyeol falls horribly
silent after that. He starts thrusting and doesn’t complain when
Baekhyun buries his mouth in the mattress. Hongbin’s sobs increase
because, obviously, he’s figured it out, at long last. Chanyeol is silent,
but the force brought with every one of his thrusts is too robust for
Baekhyun’s delicate body to handle that his anus starts to drip blood
down his thighs, but Chanyeol doesn’t even stop for a breather.

Baekhyun finally finds himself begging for some mercy. “S-slower…

Chanyeol…” he whimpers into the mattress. “You’ll… break me…”

“I’m just getting it over with,” Chanyeol counters, acidly.

Baekhyun has no retort ready up his sleeve, and the pain keeps him
hushed for the moment. This sick man will always try to twist his words
to what fits his mood, and Baekhyun will always end up hurt. This is
Chanyeol’s place, everything will go the way the man wants it to.

The clapping of the wet skins, the low moans and whimpers, and the
grunts Chanyeol makes every time Baekhyun clenches around him
horrifies Hongbin. The sounds and the scene of Chanyeol fucking
Baekhyun’s ass enchant Jihoon’s cock, and it is soon springing up ready
for action too.
“St… Yeol…” Baekhyun sobs into the mattress now. The pain, the throb
in his lower body is too overwhelming by now, and he fears the
numbness that will follow. The stench of copper in the back of his nose
is the evident telltale of the blood resulted from his anus getting
stretched by sheer force. “You’re… breaking me… Chanyeol… it hurts…”

Chanyeol bellows. “Shut the hell up already!” he shouts, now clenching

his fist in Baekhyun’s hair, yanking it up until Baekhyun grunts from the
sudden and jarring wrench of his muscles. “You’re so annoying, talking
and talking. I just want to have some quiet time. Is that so fucking much
to ask!”

Baekhyun’s body stills. Chanyeol always barks orders, tells him to get
on his knees or to suck him off… he’s never, however, ordered
Baekhyun for something so simple as to stop talking. And he’s certainly
never yelled it. So, he knows. He knows Chanyeol isn’t bluffing, and can
break his neck just because he doesn’t like the constant talking.
“Alright,” he says breathlessly, trying to appease the other’s anger
because Chanyeol’s unpredictable actions cost him dear. “Okay,
Chanyeol, okay”–he swallows his drool–“do whatever you want.”

Chanyeol is still panting after his rant, but soon he leans his forehead
on Baekhyun’s hair, closing his eyes. “Just… don’t talk, okay?”

Baekhyun nods quickly.

Chanyeol resumes his merciless, clumsy, lust-laden pistons, bringing

Baekhyun over the verge as the man eventually closes his eyes and
surrenders to complete darkness. Chanyeol still fucks him in the ass,
arms taut on either side of Baekhyun’s shoulders and his hips snapping
as he thrusts into the mess of precum and blood. And yet, he still
doesn’t cum.
“Sire,” Jihoon speaks for the first time, his voice breaking the dreadful
silence heavy with Hongbin’s low sobs and Chanyeol’s loud pants. “He
requires medical attention.”

“Get out,” Chanyeol orders. “Take Hongbin to his room; you leave too.”

Jihoon bows his head slightly and drags a devastated Hongbin by the
elbow. The two walk out of the room, and the door closes.

Now that he is wrapped in some much-needed privacy with his

unconscious captive, Chanyeol finally lets his emotions take hold of
him. He draws his cock out from the mess he created, but a long string
of red blood and white cum still wants to connect him to the twitching
and torn hole. He chuckles. This is his doing–this power he has in his
hands, where he can break or save someone. He can’t believe he’s just
come to this room after a successful brain surgery, and now he failed
this. He can’t say it’s on purpose, but he wonders if it isn’t.

Baekhyun is lying limply beneath him, lax hands by his sides and his
face lying on his cheek. His hair is a mess, his back is a mess, and
heck, his ass is a messier mess.

Chanyeol moans.

He couldn’t come before because he didn’t want it to happen, but now,

he can finally re-live something he used to find pleasure in, something
Baekhyun taught him.
He flips Baekhyun on his back, taps at his cheek until Baekhyun groans
and gasps awake. He hushes him when Baekhyun flails
uncoordinatedly. “Shh,” he says atop him, and at the peering figure.
Baekhyun tenses and tries to wiggle his way away, but Chanyeol holds
him down. “Listen. Hey listen, there’s a 4-5-inch lesion in your canal,
and you need surgery.”

Baekhyun frowns at him.

Chanyeol bites his bottom lip and pushes his fingers through
Baekhyun’s hair; then he ducks down to his ear. His other hand moves
downwards. “You hear that?”

Baekhyun listens in, and then he hears it, the sound of Chanyeol’s hand
rubbing the cock that has assaulted him.

“You hear it?” He breathes out shakily, grunting in between. “That’s the
sound of my wet cock, Baekhyun. It’s so wet for you,” he moans. “Fuck,
I’m so hard again, so hard and wet.”

The wet clapping echoes and Baekhyun gulps.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol moans, rests his forehead on the other’s cheek.

Baekhyun, as though hypnotized, pushes Chanyeol off him gently until

he is on four again with Chanyeol sitting on the mattress. Then he
crawls his way to Chanyeol’s cock, rubs his face on it before he takes it
between his plump lips.
Chanyeol groans. “Oh yea…” he moans. “You wanna taste it?”

Baekhyun plunges on the cock, taking it deeper. His ass in the air with
all the sticky fluids running down his inner thighs and tainting the white
mattress red. He flaps his tongue on the head of the cock before
sweeping it in his mouth again.

Chanyeol keens, “Oh fuck. Take it deeper.”

Baekhyun sucks on the cock with fervor, moans on its crown because
it’s big and thick, and his jaw is slowly feeling the strain.

Chanyeol plays with Baekhyun’s hair. “You like how I taste, don’t you?
I’m so hard for you,” he moans. “Slap it on your face, J.”

Baekhyun ends the sucking with a wet plop, and he taps the cock on his
lips. He glances up and finds Chanyeol eating him up with those
dangerous eyes. And then he brings his fingers to brush Baekhyun’s
hair in false gentleness.

“Eyes so cold,” he remarks as Baekhyun ghosts lips on the hard cock.

“Eyes that look like that only for me; a hatred that is harbored for me,
raw lust and a body of beauty given only to me, just me.” He gives a
triumphant smirk. “Do you remember last time I came here?”

Baekhyun licks the precum but doesn’t look away from Chanyeol’s eyes.

“We didn’t just fuck,” he says, “didn’t just have sex.”

Baekhyun pulls away from the cock altogether so he can sit up, precum
rolling down his chin.

Chanyeol pins the other to the mattress to mount him. Wordlessly,

Baekhyun folds his knees to his chest and parts them for Chanyeol who
brings his cock to Baekhyun’s rim, lining it against the abused entrance.

“Oh Baekhyun, you were feverish, so you probably don’t remember,” he

says, “but we made love.” Saying so, he pushes his cock into Baekhyun
and watches with delight how Baekhyun’s phlegmatic face scrunch and
grimace in pain. Chanyeol moans so deeply. “And you were fucking
amazing.”

Chanyeol is thrusting into his captive with less force but more
technique. He does it very slowly, and he even grinds into Baekhyun
every time the latter whimpers. He shifts so that he is peering down at
Baekhyun with his arms braced on both sides of his face.

“Open your eyes, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol breathes out. “Look at me.”

Baekhyun parts his eyelids, and his bleary eyes look up at Chanyeol’s
sharp ones as though waking up from a trance. At the eye-contact,
something in Baekhyun somersaults and his cock gets harder despite
the incapacitating pain radiating from his backside. He brings his hands
each to the ones braced next to each side of his face, and he clasps
them around Chanyeol’s wrists. He gradually loosens his pressed lips
and allows his moans to do as they want.

Chanyeol’s delighted face glints and he picks up his pace and grinds
harder against Baekhyun’s prostate. Baekhyun, lying beneath the man
and helpless, makes soft moans that soon morph into pleasurable
whimpers.

“Baekhyun you were made for me.” Chanyeol groans, his thrusts
rocking Baekhyun’s body. “Whether you want to believe it or not, you
were made for me.”

Baekhyun lets out an enchanting scream when his cum shoots out of
his cock and coats his chest. However, Chanyeol doesn’t stop because
the after-twitching teases his own cock, and he quickens his pace.
Beneath him, Baekhyun is sobbing and whimpering, but uttering no
word of complaint. It all but excites Chanyeol even more, and he doesn’t
know how much more he can do. How long before Baekhyun finally
cracks under strain beneath him, and does he want to test it out?

He looks very closely at Baekhyun’s lips as they quiver; he watches as

those lips get chewed on by Baekhyun’s teeth, how they part and press
on one another. Soon enough, Chanyeol is leaning down, pressing his
lips on Baekhyun’s. And at the mere contact, he spurts his cum, filling
Baekhyun’s insides. Chanyeol pulls away from the press of their lips. His
eyes roaming over Baekhyun’s face and the lines crossing over it in a
vague expression, and he doesn’t understand it. He can’t.

The brunet brings his hands to his face to hide it–whatever it is, and he
cries.

Chanyeol watches intently how tremors rack Baekhyun’s body as he

cries and snivels like a child, and he brushes his hair from his clammy
forehead when beads of sweat roll down Baekhyun’s forehead. His
hand absorbs the heat coming off of Baekhyun’s skin. “You’re so
beautiful.”
All of that happened almost four days ago. Now, Baekhyun has
completely healed from his injuries, and no new injuries have been
inflicted on him. Jihoon is the one who has been tending to him all this
time. Chanyeol came by only once to check on Baekhyun’s wound
before he deemed it cured. He prescribed more bed rest for him, and
then vanished without a word. Whether because he feels remorse or
not, Baekhyun isn’t going to debate it–when it comes to that psycho,
things like guilt get sieved out. The only thing that’s probably been
keeping him from harassing Baekhyun lately is his work upstairs. Today,
Baekhyun is going to kick off his escape plan to their freedom.

He is still on the mattress, but these days Jihoon chains both his wrists,
not his neck.

It would have worried him tremendously if it mattered, but it doesn’t.

And what the bigger man is clueless about is that, besides leaving the
lights on, leaving a first aid box lying around someone who has been
subjected to all sorts of torture your brain can conjure up is, indeed, a
very stupid mistake to make.

Using his foot, Baekhyun drags the small white box to him and knocks it
over with his foot, making the contents inside fall out. He uses his big
and index toes to pick out a 90 millimeter c-shaped needle. He
manages to pick it up despite the slippery skin sweating due to the
exertion his body hasn’t gone through since the day he was locked in
here. He bows his head to take the needle between his lips now,
determined to pick the damn keyhole of the chains binding his wrists.

Although he is failing tremendously, he keeps on trying, again and

again, fed up with the fact that his glenoids are sore to the core.
Besides, with all these triggers–from malnutrition to stress, to being
threatened every single day–why isn’t he seizing already? He puts all
his motions on hold to think about this for a precious moment, why
hasn’t he seized lately?
He resumes picking the lock, and in unpredicted, glorious moment, he
hears the muffled click of the lock and then it comes undone. He frees
his hand and takes the needle from his lips to try to open the other. It’s
quicker with five digits, so it’s unlocked in a few seconds.

With the needle in hand, he scrambles onto legs that almost buckle
under him at the surge of adrenaline. He won’t think. He won’t employ
strategies or connect dots. This time, he’s going to act. He shoots to the
door and elates when it opens. He finds that he is still in the same
hallway, so he trudges stealthily towards the room of his friend, inwardly
praying he didn’t get moved from it to some other ward. He finally
reaches the door and uses the needle to open it. He peeks inside and
finds Hongbin perched on a brown chesterfield, wearing another pair of
shorts and plain T. He dashes to him, and Hongbin’s expression lightens
upon seeing him. He springs up with open arms, and Baekhyun hugs
him.

“We need to leave now,” he urges, “before they find out we’re missing.”

Hongbin nods affirmatively, picks out a long bathrobe and flings it to

Baekhyun, who wears it over his boxers. “Let’s get outta this hellhole.”
Chapter Nine

The rush of the adrenaline is making his limbs jerky like an addict’s
short of his drug of choice as he and Hongbin scuttle on tiptoes
between the labyrinths of hallways. Baekhyun has made sure he locked
Hongbin’s door before embarking on the stealth run. And as they crouch
behind a wall, peaking at what resides behind it, he can see his friend
from the corner of his eyes examining him with such an intensity that
he’d picked up on without actually having to see him. He knows what’s
spinning in that observant head of Hongbin’s. Well, he was there when
that monster fucked him unconscious and he heard the noises he
made. Baekhyun can’t really tell how much of that has really
traumatized his friend the most but he is betting on the whole frigging
part. But right now they don’t have time for the side glances and the
worry eyes, they’ve taken a bold decision and if they’re found out, it’s
not going to be pretty.

There’s a woman in a white lab coat, Hannah. Baekhyun still

remembers the bitch. She is talking with someone on a flip phone, and
she seems too immersed in the conversation she doesn’t notice the two
childhood friends behind the wall.

“We gotta find those stairs, Baek.” Hongbin urges fervently, owlish eyes
bugging out.

“Stairs?” he echoes.

“You were too out of it, so you don’t remember,” he explains, pupils
never leaving the woman’s back. “When they brought us here, they led
us down some stairs; we were blindfolded, so we never knew where we
were headed.”

“By ‘we’ you mean you and Sojin,” Baekhyun prompts. “Right?”

“You were hauled downstairs by someone too,” He steals a quick glance

at him before ushering at the woman with his head. “Do we rip her a
new one or look for another way?”

Baekhyun looks back at Hannah. “We don’t wanna attract attention,” he

tells him. “Chanyeol is usually busy at this time of the day, and Jihoon
must be getting ready to come down to my room. He’ll find I’m not
there, and we’ll get caught up in stuff we don’t want,” he says. “Let’s
look for another way.”
Hongbin’s breath hitches slightly, and Baekhyun hears it.

“What is it?” he demands.

“So that bastard has been coming to your room every day?” He
staggers, his voice a crack. “You mean to tell me you’ve been enduring
the same thing ever since we were brought here?”

Baekhyun presses his lips curtly before he holds his friend’s arm by the
elbow. “We don’t have time for this,” He enunciates. “Did you hear any
words I just said? The butler must be heading to my room by now.”

The weirdest thing about this place, beside the dungeon and locking
people in to revel in their pain, there are no CCTV cameras around, not
even one, which is odd considering that many things could go wrong.
Just take their breakout for example. Yet Chanyeol never thought it up
this through. Makes you wonder if it’s a blunder or Chanyeol planned it
out to be like this from the get-go. But as far as Baekhyun is concerned,
he just wants a way out, and no cameras mean no one is watching. No
one is watching means he and his friend can run for it without having to
worry about any of Chanyeol’s men breathing down their neck.

Hongbin suddenly halts dead mid-step and Baekhyun bumps into his
back; he looks where the other is looking and finds an EXIT neon sign
mounted on a white-wooded door.

“That’s got to be it.” Hongbin muttered with his legs already carrying
him towards the direction of the door.
Baekhyun rejoices for a second because that’s the freaking door to
their freedom. He frowns; something isn’t right. Something is definitely
not right about all this because why would Chanyeol put a ‘freedom’
sign on that door that would attract any runaway like a bacon, unless
it’s a…

“Hongbin, wait!” With panic tilting his voice, he called out for his friend
whose hand is on the knob. “Don’t open that door!”

But Hongbin’s hand is already twisting the knob and perking his ears up
at the slow creak of the door in the somehow poignant silence.
Baekhyun can’t move away from his spot, too scared and too anxious.
His entire body is tense, ready for what might come. Hongbin’s eyes
follow what’s inside because Baekhyun can’t see it from his angle, and
he watches with a scowl how his friend’s face lightens up with a wide
smile. Maybe Baekhyun was wrong after all; maybe that door wasn’t a
trap to ensnare them. But his relief was curtailed when this young man
ducked out from the door, dimples pronounced and pupils so dark. Now
he understands why Hongbin smiled so affectionately like that; it’s
because the young man is their friend Se Hun, the young man who went
back with Frank to get help but was never heard from after. Until now it
seems.

“Se Hun!” Hongbin throws himself into the taller man’s arms, tears
welling up and soon rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re alive!
I’m so happy!”

The way Se Hun cups the back of his head in false reassurance is too
unsettling for Baekhyun not to consider, and then he eyes Se Hun’s
casual, clean clothes and clean hair. He doesn’t know if being sealed
away in that room enhanced his ability to sniff out the evil but a part of
him knows Se Hun isn’t what he seems to be. He doesn’t know how he
knows that or how he even concluded to that, he just knows it in his
bones. He quirks a smile, trying to play Se Hun into believing he was
coming up to him for the same thing Hongbin went for, but when he
reaches them, he shoves Se Hun off and pulls a vexed Hongbin through
that door, clambers frantically up the stairs he must have talked about
earlier.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” he berates, “why did you do that!
That’s Se Hun! He’s alive and kicking,” he squirms to yank his hand
from Baekhyun’s. “We should go back and get him!”

Baekhyun doesn’t stop in his track as he finally finds another door and
shoots through it with his friend half scurrying half dragged. The scent
of bleach collides with their noses, especially Baekhyun’s that has
scented nothing lately but the coppery twinge of his blood and bitter
smell of ejaculate. This side of this mansion, house, whatever it is, is
pumping with life. There are more people in this place that looks like
the interior of some treatment center, normal citizens who don’t seem
interested in them and aren’t crouching with machetes or bows to hurt
them. Hongbin is silent too as he inspects the place, but then he feels
Baekhyun walking again, still dragging him. Baekhyun knows Se Hun
will trail them down, and he doesn’t know why but he doesn’t want to be
found by him. He takes the left turn and comes to a stop, Hongbin
bouncing back and forth with the impact. He peers up at his friend with
reproach, but his words are lost from him when he sees the pallor of
Baekhyun’s face turning dangerously paler. His eyes and lips parting
impossibly wide, and if Hongbin didn’t know better, he’d have thought
that was terror in his eyes. When he looks at what he is looking at, he is
certain that that’s terror in Baekhyun’s eyes.

Park Chanyeol, the man he saw beating his friend to a pulp back in the
woods and get an erection from Baekhyun’s seizure is standing right in
front of them in an open lab coat and two file folders in a hand, the
other is in his pocket. He is cocking his head at their clothing with his
brows crinkling.
The two friends freeze in the same spot, unable to move or even twitch.

Hongbin, for a brief moment, hears his friend’s breathing slowly getting
out of control and his grip on his arm tightens so much he almost
winces; the fact that he can’t move his eyes from Chanyeol aborts it.

Chanyeol takes a step towards them and the friends flinch but do not
budge. When he is finally standing a stride-length away, he parts his lips
to talk. Hongbin is sure that his friend is following every movement with
intensity shouting from every fiber in him.

“Who are you?” Chanyeol asked, confusion whirling in his eyes. “Are you
patients at this clinic?”

Baekhyun’s breathing is a joke by now, and Hongbin wonders if his

lungs are about to explode.

Chanyeol shifts on his feet. “I’m sorry, but you don’t look alright,” he
tells Baekhyun, a crease building over one of his brows as he furrows it.
“If you want, you can check yourself in?”

They hear the sudden rumbling of a distant door shutting, several pairs
of feet stomping and screeching on the tiled floor before they hear ‘we
need to find them’ gritted out in a finite order. Hongbin faces the source
of the noise knowing Baekhyun can’t –won’t take his eyes off
Chanyeol’s for whatever it is because the biggest threat is standing in
the flesh right before him. He sees Se Hun coming towards them, and
he yelps with tears in his eyes; for the first time, he can see the
wickedness in Se Hun’s eyes who’s tracking them like a predator.
Chanyeol looks away from Baekhyun and at the one coming at them,
and he lifts a hand to stop Se Hun probably but sees from the corner of
his eyes how Baekhyun flinches, so he stills.

“What’s going on here?” he demands once Se Hun is standing before

them. “What’s all this about?”

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun’s voice croaks out while his eyes tremble upon
a tiny smidgen of something dry on the floor. He guesses it’s plaster; he
has no idea why it’s on the floor though, not that it matters, right?
Because… because Chanyeol is standing right in front of him,
elatedness is taking precedence over the daunting air he usually
emanates whenever he is standing above Baekhyun, inflicting pain or
employing torture on him. “You fucking bastard,” he grits out, “stop
pretending!”

Chanyeol’s confusion deepens as he takes his hand out of his pocket

and straightens up a little, “Look, there’s no need for you to get upset at
me for no apparent reason. I’m not trying to harm you. Whatever
happened with my staff member over there, you can trust me when I
say I have no idea what’s going on here.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, his legs taking him rearward to the wall
behind. “No…” he whines disbelievingly, “this can’t be…” Was it all a
dream? Was it all just a bad dream and now he has finally woken up
and has to find his way out of it, or just what, exactly? “This isn’t
happening…”

“Sir?” Chanyeol approaches him a little but Hongbin steps in between

them.
“Keep your filthy hands off my friend, you monster.” He bites out like a
wounded animal.

“Young man,” Chanyeol lifts placating hands, folders going up as well. “I

mean him no harm.” He says, “I’m a doctor here, so maybe I can help.
He doesn’t seem alright.”

Just then, Baekhyun clutches at his head from both sides and lets out a
rumbling scream that echoes off in the hall and startles everyone within
earshot, including Chanyeol and Hongbin who are the nearest. Hongbin
swivels around and fixates his friend with a terrified gaze, coerced into
silence as Baekhyun slides down to his knees, hands still clutching at
his head as he lets out broken wails now. Hongbin almost looks over
the glaring inconstancy of his friend falling to his knees and shouting
himself hoarse in favor of ripping into Chanyeol for the time he
witnessed him maltreating his friend and for all the times he didn’t but
still knows happened. But the broken wailing is slowly morphing into
snivels, and Hongbin can’t take it anymore, but just as he finally
decides on bringing his friend to his chest to shower him with some
warmth, Chanyeol beats him to it. He watches with awe how Chanyeol
wraps his arms around Baekhyun and whispers soft reassurances into
his ear.

“Nebula!”

Hongbin faces the source of the shout and finds the woman they saw
downstairs dashing towards them. Then he hears it, the words uttered,
irrevocable and derogatory in their brunt. He cannot snatch them, alter
them or change them after they land harshly on Baekhyun’s ears.

“Were you trying to run away from me, Baek?” the smoky voice asks,
acidly. “You fucking whore, you never learn.”
Hongbin quickly reels his head towards Chanyeol, who is still hugging
Baekhyun, speaking those words into his ear. And the most
unbelievable thing is… Baekhyun stills completely between those caging
arms.

“Don’t touch him,” Hongbin clenches his small fists. Then he is a little
surprised when Se Hun comes up behind him and holds him from both
shoulders. “What’ you doing? Let go!”

Chanyeol lets out a bitter sigh after eyeing the patients peering at them
from every side. “They’re making a scene,” he says, gesturing to the two
friends. “Let’s take them back downstairs first,” he glowers at his
secretary and Se Hun with eyes that send them to a cold sweat. “I’ll
deal with all of you later.”

***

The two childhood friends are shepherded back downstairs by Se Hun

and Chanyeol to the same hole they finally managed to crawl out of.
Hannah has excused herself before disappearing into another room and
leaving the two men to their fun. Hongbin is momentarily threshing
under the pressure Se Hun is applying on his shoulders as he clasps
him tight. When he glances over at his friend, he finds Chanyeol guiding
him, pushing him by the neck and Baekhyun’s uncooperative body
backlashes every single rough time. They walk them through the door
Se Hun came out from and towards another under Chanyeol’s order
and watchful eyes.

“Baek,” Chanyeol coaxes after they stop by that foreign door. “Hey,” he
taps Baekhyun’s cheek to ground him, “snap out of it.”
Baekhyun’s glossy pupils roll and finally land on Chanyeol’s, and at the
sight of evil eyes looking back at him, something in Baekhyun’s awakes
to full alertness. He hisses his way to consciousness and hardens his
glare at the man.

Chanyeol smiles wickedly. “That’s more like it.”

“Se Hun, what the hell are you doing?” Hongbin reproaches, “Why are
you doing this?”

Chanyeol and Baekhyun look to the other two’s direction, and Chanyeol
chirps. “Oh, let me introduce you” he starts, “that’s Oh Se Hun, a
‘trainee’ signed under my care.” He says, now wrapping an arm around
Baekhyun’s neck and relishing the sensation of his shudder coursing
nonstop. “He’s been working here for two years now.”

Hongbin pales and his big eyes glare at the friend who betrayed them.
“What’s the meaning of this?”

“Oh, and he’s even been assigned to a job too,” Chanyeol gushes on,
ushering to the foreign door.

Se Hun opens it at the gestured order, and keeps his grip strong on
Hongbin’s forearm.

“Let’s take a look inside, shall we?” Chanyeol suggests with an odd air
of glee about him.
Again, merry moods indicate trouble.

Se Hun and Hongbin step into the room first with Chanyeol and
Baekhyun following. Baekhyun, in next to no time, faints to the back
and flops on Chanyeol’s chest, the man who proves to have a little
grace in him as he holds Baekhyun up by the shoulders with his two
hands. Hongbin is soon doubling over and retching onto the cemented
floor.

Inside the room, they find Sojin’s collapsed body hung on meat-hooks,
covered in wounds, scratches and belt welts. Cascaded by fresh and dry
blood. The entire room smells of death, and no amount of bleach can
mask that.

“Get a grip,” Chanyeol coaches, lifting Baekhyun up. “She’s still alive,”
He provides, and added. “I think.”

Just then, Jihoon walks into the room and takes hold of Hongbin as Se
Hun is ushered to step aside by Chanyeol himself. The order, though,
doesn’t stop there. Se Hun walks up to where Sojin’s body is mounted,
and he unhooks her from the wall and drops her down. They all watch
as the wounded body falls lifelessly onto the cemented floor.

“Listen up,” Chanyeol starts, the two friends’ stomachs churn, and they
whip their heads to the psychotic man, “I can let Hongbin walk outta
that door free as a bird.”

Baekhyun releases himself from Chanyeol’s hold but, really, it’s only
because the man lets him. “What’ you mean?”
“Exactly what you heard” Chanyeol replies, now stuffing his side pockets
with his hands. “I’m willing to let him go, but on one condition.” And as
everyone anticipates, but Baekhyun with more anxiety than hopefulness
–because he knows what trusting Chanyeol’s words would do to him,
said man drops the bomb. “Baekhyun has to stay.”

“I refuse!” Hongbin interjects, doggedly.

“I wasn’t asking you.” Chanyeol rolls his eyes at him in response.

Deciphering his meaning now, everyone’s, including Hongbin’s, of

course, gazes aim Baekhyun’s.

“Why should I trust anything you say?” Baekhyun demands, “How can I
know for sure that this isn’t some other game of yours where you lead
me on and then turn it into a game?”

“I told you I kept him unscathed,” Chanyeol shrugs, “He can now walk
free with no scratch, but of course, if he tries something, my men will
soon be on him. Your lovely ear might get parceled to his place too, or
maybe an eye?”

“You bastard!” Hongbin tries to shoot towards Chanyeol, but Jihoon’s

hold on him is ridiculously stronger.

“I suggest you keep quiet if you want us to get to an agreement here,”

Chanyeol warns him, playfully, “after all, I am doing this for you.”
If Hongbin does walk out of this place free and unscratched, then
Baekhyun’s efforts to bear with the humiliation so far wasn’t for
nothing. Chanyeol won’t have his trump card to lay it out in play every
time he tries to get his way into Baekhyun’s pants. Although it sounds
too selfless of Chanyeol to do this so out of the blue, of course, he can’t
be doing it out of the goodness of his heart so it means he has
something else up his sleeves. But Baekhyun can deal with one thing at
a time, and he is not going to waste a chance like this. He isn’t that
stupid.

“Fine,” Baekhyun grits out, “I’ll stay.”

“Baekhyun, you idiot!” Hongbin cries, sobbingly. “I don’t want to go and

leave you here!”

It’s going to pierce his heart for a few days, but Hongbin is smart. He’ll
figure out how to adapt pretty soon, and Baekhyun places his utmost
trust in him. And it’s sad to see him like this, and he can’t even imagine
what his parents could be going through right now. So if one of the
children is back sound and safe, unlike so many, Hongbin parents’ grief
may diminish bit by bit, and that’s all Baekhyun cares about. Damn it,
he misses his parents.

“Listen here, Hongbin,” Baekhyun’s voice is steady and hopeful, but his
eyes are on the floor, downcast and foggy. “I want you to graduate. I
want you to get a job and meet someone, and I want you to have lots of
kids.”

Hongbin wails a ‘no, please, stop’.

“But forget about me,” his voice almost cracks at that, “forget you ever
had a childhood friend, please. I’m asking you, Hongbin, live your life
and make me proud.”

“Oh, that was so beautiful,” Chanyeol scoffs, wiping an eye, “I even

shed a tear.”

Baekhyun glowers at him.

Chanyeol smirks at him.

“Should we take our leave now?” Jihoon inquires.

“Take him out of here,” Chanyeol waves off a hand, “and make sure he
doesn’t forget the terms of our agreement.”

Jihoon pulls a devastated Hongbin from there, and Baekhyun watches

with a pair of hurt eyes the image of his friend because that’s the last
he is going to see of him. It’s alright, a little price to pay for something
so overwhelmingly big. Hongbin deserves to live happily, actually all of
his friends did but that doesn’t fall under the same heading now that
most of them are either blown off, decapitated or beheaded, or –he
glances over at Sojin’s almost unrecognizable face– that.

“Now,” Chanyeol lets out a heavy sigh, taking his hands out of his
pockets to wrap them over his chest defensively. “Should we wake Sojin
up? I kind of don’t want her to miss the party again, not after you went
through the trouble to come all the way here to pay her a visit” –he
flashes an eerie smile now to Baekhyun’s direction– “I also want to
confide something in her.”
At that, Se Hun resumes the work of slapping Sojin’s face a few times
until the girl beneath squirms and groans ashore. Her eyes slowly start
to open, beholding the assaulter standing atop her. Beyond him, two
men she comes to recognize after another inspection by her bruised
eyes.

“Baekhyun …” She croaks out, trying to sit up but her body is too sore
and all she manages to do is sit hunched. “Y-you’re alive!”

Baekhyun wishes he wasn’t.

“Let’s skip that, shall we?” Chanyeol states, begrudgingly. “Now,” he

walks up to Sojin and grasps a fistful of her hair to yank it, forcing her to
look up. He has the utter gall to look apologetic. “Sojin, I’m afraid I have
some bad news for you.”

Baekhyun scowls at the maniac.

“You see Baekhyun over there,” he flicked his wrist to motion at the
direction of the man. “He made a bet on your life, yours for his
childhood friend’s.”

“What?” Baekhyun exclaims.

“What,” Chanyeol lifts his chin, openly challenging. “Are you going to
deny the fact that you’ve never asked how Sojin was holding up if she
was dead or alive?” he asks. “Didn’t you and your friend try to jailbreak
just half an hour ago, didn’t care if Sojin was left behind?”
This man, just what is he, a snake in disguise?

Just what the hell is he made of?

“That’s…” Baekhyun’s words fail him.

“Sojin,” Chanyeol speaks again, “Hongbin was allowed to leave, in

exchange for your life.”

“No, that’s not true!” Baekhyun denies, vehemently. “You’re full of shit!”

“Quiet, Baek,” Chanyeol’s movements are slow as he shushes the other

with a finger on his lips, “I’m talking now.”

Baekhyun gulps down his retort.

“So I was saying,” Chanyeol resumes after looking away from

Baekhyun’s eyes with a smirk plastered on his lips. “Hongbin is free
now thanks to your sacrifice. He’s outside these walls. I’m serious, ask
Baekhyun.”

The two look up at the man, and all he does is shake his head dazedly.
“Y-you’re…” he almost falters but, thankfully, his anger pulses again.
“You’re not just evil, Park Chanyeol.” He says, “You’re the devil himself.”

“So are you going to deny that I let your friend walk out?!” Chanyeol
barks until everyone flinches.
“No, but it was on no one’s expense but mine!” Baekhyun counters,
tenaciously.

Chanyeol dips his chin now for a daunting moment before he barks a
laugh. He lifts up to his feet, thrusts his hands into his pockets and lets
out a little sigh. “Your adherence to decorum is quite a joke, Baek.” He
bites out, “perhaps you’re yearning for that whip again.”

Baekhyun quickly shakes his head, “I’m…” he starts, but Chanyeol’s

raised hand forestalls whatever he wanted to say.

“Save it.” He says, he uses that lifted hand to motion to Se Hun.

“Gimme your knife.”

Baekhyun fists his hands and holds his ground, eyes wide and wary. But
Chanyeol simply puts the knife in Sojin’s hand and withdraws from the
girl’s space, leisurely. Sojin weighs the knife in her hand like it’s an item
she’s never seen in her life until now, and then she looks up at
Baekhyun who is shaking his head at her, willing her to at least doubt
what the killer has told her. Then she tries to stand on his aching legs.

“Sojin…” Baekhyun’s voice is faint by now, “don’t trust a word he says.”

“Quit whining, Baek,” Chanyeol breathes out, dismally. “Take it like a

man.”

Easy for you to say when nobody’s aiming a knife at your guts.
Baekhyun hasn’t forgotten how to fight in close combats and, although
Chanyeol did take him out in no time really, he can still take out
someone with Sojin’s body shape. He can even make use of the girl’s
unstable physical state. But even if it’s looking up to his side he still
doesn’t want to fight Sojin over something so worthless like Chanyeol’s
misguided advice.

“Sojin, you have to believe me!” Baekhyun tries again despite

Chanyeol’s warning. “Why am I here then? If what he’s saying is the
truth, then explain to me why I’m still here!”

“Easy,” Chanyeol answers for him, “because the deal was one person.”

Baekhyun blows out a weary sigh, “It’s not true!” he whines, “Sojin, he
just wants to see us fight, that’s all. It’s true Hongbin left, but the only
deal I made with him was me staying behind.” He reasons, “I’m not
making any of this up. Please, you have to believe me!”

And Sojin, as though in a trance, slowly drops the knife.

Chanyeol chuckles, and the vibrating tone attracts everyone’s attention.

Chanyeol doubles over and lets out a loud laugh. His shoulders rocking,
and it’s the first time Baekhyun actually sees the maniac expressing his
demented amusement like a run-of-the-mill villain. “I’m sorry,” he says,
now straightening up, “it’s just… this is so fucking boring. I just thought
of another idea, and I must say, it makes me quite happy.”

Baekhyun and Sojin shudder visibly when Chanyeol flashes a smirk.

“Okay, enough games,” he says, “Baekhyun, there’s something you

need to know.”
Baekhyun is too scared to even twitch a brow as he stands still at his
spot.

“Se Hun there,” he nods at the young man who perks up at his name
being mentioned, “He’s the one who set you up.” He confesses, “He’s
the reason all your friends are dead.”

“Sire,” Se Hun speaks for the first time, “what are you doing?”

Baekhyun’s eyes settle on Se Hun, rage and fury roving inside him like
waves crashing on rocks.

Chanyeol silences him so he can speak. “You think the car trip was
Chen’s idea? Not a chance. That guy was too stupid to come up with
something like that. It was our Se Hun here all along –he planned it out
from the get-go.”

Baekhyun’s –and he’s pretty sure even Sojin’s breathing is labored by

now.

“He brought you guys to your doom.” His voice is harsh, resonating
between these walls like the absolute voice of reason. “It’s his fault, all
of it!” he is yelling fiercely by the end of it.

Baekhyun shoots towards the knife Sojin dropped and seizes it in his
own hand. Sojin shouts a desperate ‘no, don’t!’ as she watches with
horror how Baekhyun leaps to Se Hun’s direction, the knife coming
down with him and aiming Se Hun’s heart.
He’s going to pierce it… by God; he’s going to finish off the bastard who
set them up. Baekhyun’s rage multiplies… the bastard who killed so
many people and robbed them of their youth; who caged him here,
brought him down to his knees, begging…

Se Hun stands stupefied before the knife as it comes down with such
speed and then it soon pierces something: flesh, Baekhyun can tell. The
scent of fresh blood, sickening and never easy to get used to,
permeates the air. Baekhyun parts his eyes when he hears the pained
groan, and what he sees does not really bring him even a scrape close
to vengeance.

Sojin is standing between him and Se Hun, barely. Baekhyun feels the
girl’s faint breath falling on his lips, their faces before each other’s.
Baekhyun sobs, tearlessly.

“W-what… you…” he chastises, his eyes quivering into Sojin’s kind,

doleful ones.

Sojin coughs, and blood soon comes out of her small mouth splashing
in torrents. And then she shakes his head, jadedly. “Don’t.” She utters,
“Baekhyun, you’re… different.”

“No, no, no…” Baekhyun whimpers as he slowly lets go of the knife that
is still planted into Sojin’s chest. He brings his blood-spattered hands to
both of Sojin’s shoulder as the latter starts to teeter and hover over. He
holds her still. “Sojin, no –Oh God what have I done?”

“Not you,” Sojin states, vehemently. “You… are different.”

“Sojin, I just tried to kill the other bastard over there.” He cries, and
tears slowly escape his eyes when Sojin rests her forehead on
Baekhyun’s. “How am I so different? I just stabbed you –oh God! What
should I do?”

Sojin’s knees buckle, and she is soon falling to the floor on her back.
Baekhyun is falling along with her.

“Baekhyun,” she blurts out through the coughs and the blood-plugged
gullet. “Don’t fall.”

Baekhyun uses the angle of their position to staunch the blood with his
two hands. “I’m so sorry, Sojin, I’m so fucking sorry!”

Sojin, then, quirks a very wide smile and it momentarily takes Baekhyun
to a warm and safe place. And very slowly, Sojin become stills
completely with her eyes on the ceiling.

“Sojin?” Baekhyun’s whisper croaks, “Sojin, don’t you dare, okay? I’m
gonna stop the bleeding, just want you to stay focused for me, you get
that?”

But Sojin slowly closes her eyes, and she never opens them again.

Baekhyun’s eyes flutter aimlessly. He looks over Sojin’s face, her body
and then back to her strangely peaceful face. His pressure on the
wound slowly eases as he retracts his hands back to him, shaking.
A clap, two more, and then a third before Chanyeol cuts the silence.
“Beautiful, very beautiful, Baekhyun,” he vouches with false
amusement, “that was Oscar-worthy.”

Baekhyun’s still-trembling eyes scan his hands, too red, too sinful…

“You know what a coup de grace is, Baek?” Chanyeol wonders, “It’s a
merciful death blow, and you’ve administered that professionally,
bravo.”

Baekhyun’s awareness comes back to him, but fSe Huned. He looks up

at Chanyeol who cocks his head and awaits the oncoming verbal
assault. Baekhyun manages to lever up to his feet, still a little wobbly
after the rapid drain of adrenaline. “You think this is funny?” he chides,
“A girl has just died! A girl you’d have saved, you sick son of a bitch!”

“I didn’t stab her.” Chanyeol shrugs on a mock-pout, “you did.”

“I hate you.” Baekhyun grits out, acidly. “You’re sick, you’re disgusting,
and I fucking hate you.”

Chanyeol’s blasé demeanor morphs into something vague. Something

that consists of furrowed eyebrows, doleful eyes and pained expression.
And Baekhyun can’t believe it. “You…” Chanyeol gulps, “you don’t mean
that.”

“I hate you!” Baekhyun shouts until his voice cracks.

There was a table lined for all these people who engrossed themselves
with torturing Sojin, Chanyeol knocks it over, letting go of a raged
scream. He kicks the metallic items clanging on the floor and working
on fueling his animalistic anger. Baekhyun is watching only, too scared
even to twitch. Se Hun then decides to appease to the man vibrating
with stirring wrath, but it’s too much of a wrong move as Chanyeol gets
a hold of a scattered circumcision knife and plunges it into the young
man’s left eye, rotates it deeper the more Se Hun struggles. Se Hun
crumbles to the ground in a dead-weight heap.

“You hate me?” Chanyeol goads on with his velvety voice as he slowly
reels around facing Baekhyun. “I guess it’s to be expected from an
ungrateful whore like you. I mean” –he approaches Baekhyun’s
impuissant body now– “some men can’t help but chase the bitch.” –he
grabs hold of Baekhyun’s hair and starts dragging him somewhere else
as the other winces and whimpers but does nothing to fight his way out
of the other’s hold, before he suddenly pauses, not much of his face
can be seen from Baekhyun’s angle– “I love you” he says, before he
starts dragging Baekhyun along the hallway again, his voice rising up
again in clear admonishment. “I fucking love you, and you’ll never find
someone who loves you as much as I do!”

“Just end it,” Baekhyun sobs, the bathrobe has fallen off his shoulders.
“End it here and now, Chanyeol, or I will.”

Chanyeol then pauses in his tracks again, and this time, he gives
Baekhyun’s head a hefty shove as he throws him against the wall until
Baekhyun crashes against it violently and slides down with a groan.
Chanyeol is soon onto him, topping him and bringing down a punch
after another, to Baekhyun’s cheek, jaw, head, chest, Baekhyun only
need to name it.

After Baekhyun wakes up, he finds that many things are not as they
seem because, what he thought was his older room turned out to be a
bathroom of a sort. He is now reclining inside a claw tub, empty of any
water. He is tied, both wrists strapped by a zip tie before his chest. And
his face, oh Lord in heavens, when is he ever going to rid of the feeling
of his face sore and beaten. Worse of all, Chanyeol is keeping watch
beside the bathtub, taunting eyes looking down on Baekhyun. The later,
on his part, tries to scramble out of the tub because his legs aren’t tied,
but every attempt fails immensely and all Baekhyun’s left to do is watch
with awe how his legs buckle under him. It must be some sort of a nerve
drug or something or else what could explain such a thing, and
Chanyeol is a neurologist so getting his hands on something like this –
something that paralyzes you from the waist down, is highly likely.

“Let me go!” He demands, caustically. “You can’t do this to me!”

Chanyeol turns deaf ears to Baekhyun’s wretched biddings with that

infamous poker face of his and swivels towards the direction of stacked
gallons on the right side of the bathroom. He unscrews the cap of the
first gallon his hand falls on, and he brings it to the bathtub, pouring its
content all over Baekhyun’s legs.

Baekhyun’s eyes widen at the realization that what’s been poured on

him is blood, still warm.

After Chanyeol empties the first gallon and tosses it aside, he smirks
very deeply. “Smells nice, doesn’t it?”

Baekhyun’s entire body shudders, and he starts recoiling from

everything.

Chanyeol brings a second, pours its content into the tub. And another,
and then another and all Baekhyun can do is watch as the blood
reaches his middle before he loses his ground and is soon degenerated
to a mess.

“Don’t do this,” he sobs, “I’ll be good, please, don’t do this to me.”

The blood level is soon reaching his nose, and Baekhyun can’t keep his
mouth and nose above it since his legs have turned jelly without his
constant. And by the last gallon tossed, Chanyeol crouches beside the
tub and fists Baekhyun’s hair, bringing it a little up so Baekhyun can
breathe.

“You promised me that before,” he says, a sly smirk on his lips, “you
promised me to be good and I trusted you.” At that, his smirk falls and,
with a pair of empty eyes beholding his handiwork. Chanyeol plunges
Baekhyun’s head into the blood, forcing it under as the other resists,
looking as though he wants Baekhyun to drown to his death but he
soon brings it up again.

Baekhyun gasps and coughs.

“How does your friends’ blood taste like?” Asking so, Chanyeol forces
the other’s head under the blood again, and Baekhyun squirms to break
from the suffocating pressure, but to no avail.

When Chanyeol looks like he is done playing, he repositions Baekhyun

so that he is lying with his arms outside the tub and armpits bracing on
its rim. He is kneeling, his ass peeking out of the blood and Chanyeol
fondles it –slippery touch makes Baekhyun hiss. Chanyeol stands from
his crouch and gets into the bathtub, unzips his fly and immobilizes
Baekhyun’s by the hips. And very slowly, he pushes the head of his cock
into Baekhyun’s entrance, and he stops when Baekhyun winces audibly
only to push all the way in, luxuriating in the impossible feeling of
tightness stretching around him. He pounds hard in his tight hole with
faint groans and moans from his part, loud sobbing from Baekhyun’s.

And then, he fucks Baekhyun’s ass senseless.

Chapter Ten
“Rough…” Baekhyun murmurs with strain. He is crouching on four over
the memory foam. The next time he tries to speak through his
staggered moans, a querulous cry escapes through his parted lips. “So
rough.”

Chanyeol endorses in the absolutely titillating sensation, taking no

notice in Baekhyun’s tribulation of being brought to his knees, bearing
his ass to a man who has no qualms giving him a 4-inches rectal
fissure. He doesn’t stop, he never stops. Once he gets his hips working,
Chanyeol doesn’t stop until he ejaculates. Sometimes when he is in a
good mood, he even fucks the cum out of Baekhyun until the latter is
reduced down to nothing but a loud moaning mess.

When Chanyeol finally pulls his cock out, the assaulted hole gapes in
slight twitching. There’s a long trail of cum that connects the hole to the
crown of Chanyeol’s cock, and the psycho smirks.

This is how Baekhyun’s been spending his days ever since his friend
left.

For one, he knows that as long as he stays locked behind these four
walls, his future will remain obfuscated. But on the contrary, his friend
can walk free under the sky. This is not something he’s been jonesing
for: getting raped every day is not exactly a wish to write on a graduation
car. But then again, if his friend is alive and well, and safe and sound at
home with his parents, then he can put up with it. That is if he doesn’t
eventually go out of his mind.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol’s deep voice calls out, softly.

As though on auto mode, Baekhyun sits up and turns around, gazes

emptily at Chanyeol’s slick cock for a moment.

“Come on,” Chanyeol coons, “you know the drill, Baek. Don’t keep me
waiting.”

Baekhyun flinches slightly at the revolting reminder. Really, cleaning

Chanyeol off with his mouth... is that how he’s going to spend his life?
“You know what,” Chanyeol tilts his head a little, eyes narrowing with
apparent incredulity. “I think you’re stalling on purpose. In fact, I think
you want me to hurt you.” He concludes. “Or else why the hell would you
keep up the same attitude when I’ve beat it into you and told you
countless times that I hate it when you keep me waiting.”

Baekhyun shakes his head unobtrusively, gaze softening. “I’ll do it.”

“Well,” Chanyeol intones, “get on it.”

Baekhyun gulps his lump and ducks down, mouth hovering over
Chanyeol’s cock. Small lips that are grazed with a cut from the other
day’s beating. He can’t remember when because after his friend left,
Chanyeol’s been even more violent towards Baekhyun who, usually,
receives the beating for rejecting something Chanyeol asks him to do.
But what little defiance Baekhyun shows, Chanyeol burns it to a scrap.
His mouth opens around the meaty head oozing precum and very slowly
take the hard cock in. He takes it all in, and then he pulls back to
tongue the head with abandon, repeating the process all over again,
and again, managing to pull contented sighs from Chanyeol’s mouth.
Baekhyun is keeping his bobbing movement on the cock very gentle in
part to not agitate the cut on his lips, and to get Chanyeol’s mind off of
him.

“You’re really good at this,” Chanyeol admires through his tunneled

vision, a sense of pleasure washing over him, “a fucking natural.”

Baekhyun hums on the cock, knowing the vibration will do something to

Chanyeol. He likes it.
Chanyeol gasps a little and shuffles to settles on his knees. He brings
his hands to Baekhyun’s hair as the latter doesn’t break the connection
between the cock and his mouth. Then Chanyeol snaps his hips. “You’re
a relict, Baek.” He tells him when Baekhyun’s entire demeanor
becomes taut. “You can take this.”

To his horror, Baekhyun feels Chanyeol thrusting into his mouth, and
then cold fingers parting his wounded lips wider to let more access to
the thick cock. This isn’t the first time Chanyeol does something so out
of the blue like this, nor it is the second, or the third. What makes this
time different from the others is actually the cut on Baekhyun’s cut that
could reopen. Adding to that is a cock pushing into the back of his
throat... the pain is not even in the range of bad, it’s beyond it. Chanyeol
rocks his hips back and forth, relishing the feeling with an expression of
pure ecstasy on his face.

The more Baekhyun tries to pull his head off, the tighter the hold on his
head becomes. The suffocating feeling is a lot worse than the rough
stretching of his unprepared anus, and he feels death at the threshold
of his floating consciousness. Does he want to let her in?

Hot cum suddenly shoots to the back of his throat, immediately clogging
it. Respiration becomes futile because Chanyeol is still not taking his
cock out. Baekhyun’s eye pupils roll to the back, and he slumps down.
The cock still tucked between his lips as cum spills down the corners of
his mouth.

Kim Jihoon is here again, like always. He’s here to clean after
Chanyeol’s mess.

Baekhyun used to recoil, flinch and curse every time Jihoon’s fingertips
as much as brushed against his skin. Now, he doesn’t even stir as the
man scrubs his long legs with a damp cloth. Usually, Jihoon is rather
brisk in his movements, but today… today he is rather gentle. The touch
of a mother, of a lover, something Baekhyun’s been craving for ever
since Chanyeol tethered him here like a wild animal.

“You’re something,” Baekhyun mumbles, voice weak and almost comes

off so faint. “No matter what kind of mess Chanyeol leaves behind,
you’re always there to clean it up.”

“It’s what I’m getting paid to do,” Jihoon replies, robotically.

Baekhyun tilts his head slightly. “So if I pay you, would you get me out of
here?”

Jihoon’s hands stop at that, and his eyes slide up, landing on
Baekhyun’s.

“I’m saying I’m willing to pay,” Baekhyun urged. His hand tracking a long
trail over his bruised torso, suggestively, teasingly…“I can read the way
you look at me,” he sighs. “You want me.”

Jihoon’s brows tremble, and his Adam apple bobs.

“I’ll pay you, so get me out of here.” Baekhyun prompts again, his tone
cold.

He often heard people say he took after his father, and Baekhyun isn’t
about to argue that. He knows he is almost the spitting image of his
father, and there’s even little pride when people point the resemblance
out, because his father is a good man.
After the accident, Baekhyun’s father didn’t confiscate his car keys,
didn’t take away his laptop, and didn’t ground him. Although Baekhyun
could easily chalk it up to his epilepsy, something about the new glint in
his father’s eyes and the way he looked at him with no reproach,
suggested a myriad of reasons. From that point on, that’s the only thing
that set Baekhyun on the right path.

So as he sits on this comfy sofa with his dad slouching back on the
backrest next to him, watching the national team going for a penalty
kick, he relishes the moment. For a reason, it feels ephemeral, for a
reason, it feels like any moment and it’d be snatched away by some
daunting power. And he doesn’t know. And although he can’t bring
himself to tell his father about the fear festering a hole in his chest, he
eventually decides fear of loss is common. He looks up at his father’s
profile, loving the peacefulness of his the man’s endorsement, the
aberrantly assorted moles spreading out his neck and cheek, the curled
lips and nose he got from him. He suddenly feels remorse.

Fear and remorse fusing together...

“I know,” His father says in his voice soft, his eyes never leaving the TV
screen. “You’re getting used to it.”

Baekhyun’s brows tremble and his eyes narrow at his father.

“Scary, isn’t it?” His father says again. “Getting used to it.”

Baekhyun looks at the TV screen now, too.

“But Baekhyun,” he smiled. Baekhyun isn’t sure if it’s because the team
they’ve been rooting for has just scored or because of what he is about
to tell him. “This darkness, it’s not perpetual.”

Baekhyun looks up again at his father, and this time his father looks
back at him.

“We won.”

The front door rattles and Baekhyun’s eyes snap to it. His fear flares
back to life again, more palpable with each rattle. He looks at his father
whose face is slowly melting away, and he quickly recoils, hitting
something solid and cold. He presses against it more, willing it to tip
backward so he can flee away, but it’s still solid. Unbending, just like his
new reality.

When the darkness gets swallowed by blinding light, Baekhyun trips

back to the horrifying realization that his father, the couch, the homey
house… all of that was just a dream.

“Baekhyun,” The maniacal doctor is standing at the downward frame of

his mattress, lab coat over white turtleneck sweater, black trousers, and
shiny loafers.

Baekhyun looks up at the man through bleary eyes, hating the look of
triumph on his face.

“Were you planning to leave?” Chanyeol asks, incredulous eyes peering

down at his captive.
Baekhyun swallows thickly, shuffles to reposition himself on the solid
wall he tried to press against earlier. Then he straightens his chained
legs over the mattress, allowing them to feel the dried blood and cum
against the skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jihoon then appears into his peripheral vision, apathetic and silent, like
he always is.

“Are you sure?” Chanyeol drawls, playfully. “Because a little bird told me
you wanted out.”

Baekhyun’s anxiety goes up a few notches. He glares at Jihoon for a

moment. When the other looks elsewhere, Baekhyun looks back at
Chanyeol, defeated. “I’m…” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“You even offered him your body as payment.” Chanyeol’s eyes widen
and his playful smirk tenses. Diid you really think I wasn’t going to find
out?”

Baekhyun quickly bows his head to Chanyeol, “I’m really sorry, it won’t
happen again.”

“Won’t, huh?” Chanyeol glowers, “you fucking liar.”

Baekhyun winces.

“On your knees, bend over.” Chanyeol orders, taking off his lab coat.
“Please… I’m sorry…” Baekhyun’s voice croaked, voice strained with
tears. Of course, Jihoon wasn’t going to keep the little proposition to
himself. Of course, he was going to let Chanyeol in on it eventually.
Baekhyun is a fucking idiot. “I’m so sorry.”

“Baek,” Chanyeol lets go of a bitter sigh. “Stop saying sorry, you

bastard, and kneel.”

Baekhyun shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut until a dam of
tears roll down his cheeks. “I’m... sorry.”

Chanyeol seizes his captive by the hair, which has grown to his neck,
and he tosses him towards the mattress until Baekhyun groans. His
injuries protesting at the maltreatment.

“Hold his hands,” Chanyeol growled, now straddling Baekhyun’s back

since the latter is lying flat on his stomach. His face buried in the
mattress.

Jihoon grabs hold of Baekhyun’s flailing hands and crosses them down
before Baekhyun’s face, adding his own pressure on the limbs.
Baekhyun hears rustling of the trousers on his skin, before a gentle
hand lands on his bruised shoulder blades, pushing him more into the
dirty mattress.

His heart rate grows frantic, and his breathing hitches when something
cold and sharp sinks into the back of his left shoulder. “No, please,” He
squirms. “Please, stop! Chanyeol! Don’t do this. Please!”
“Whining and whining nonstop,” Chanyeol gripes, jadedly. “You never
learn, do you? How many times have I told you the pleading card never
works for me... not anymore.” He tells him. “It would, if you never broke
your promises. You always break them. I’m not about to play into the
hands of a whore who doesn’t even appreciate the lengths I go to in
order to keep you in.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, his tousled, neck-length hair whirls about
his face, tingling his upper-arms. “Please don’t, stop…”

Chanyeol breathes out an impatient sigh through his nose. “Hold him
down.”

Soon, the cold sharpness returns to touch the fevered skin of his back,
sinking deeper and tearing his skin. Baekhyun lets out one pained
scream after another. The feeling of his skin getting torn by whatever
sharp object Chanyeol is using is… it’s like a touch of tormenting death.
Oh God, would death feel better than this? Is he really better off
slumped on the mattress and lifeless. Would Chanyeol still torture him
and rape him, even dead?

Another flick of Chanyeol’s wrist as he scrapes into the skin to engrave

it wills a scream from Baekhyun. Soon tears stream down his face,
infiltrating into his mouth. The taste is salty, and so is the scent of his
blood. By the time Chanyeol lifts the sharp thing off, Baekhyun sags
down, all his joints relaxing, yet still shuddering. The burning throb
coming from his shoulder blades is still radiating like a bad sunburn.

Jihoon finally releases Baekhyun’s arms and retreats away.

The gauze Jihoon wrapped around Baekhyun’s forearm before because
of a burn scar Chanyeol had left on him slowly comes off. The recent
cuts reopened and are now bleeding. His arms are now covered in new
hand marks that are sure to bruise for a while.

Baekhyun tenses again when Chanyeol glides a hand towards his waist,
lifting it off the mattress so that only his ass is in the air. Baekhyun’s
fingers twitch but remain wilted next to his head.

“Inject him now,” Chanyeol grits out.

Jihoon takes Baekhyun’s arm in his hand. The other fishes out a syringe
from his pocket, and honestly, Baekhyun doesn’t even care at this
point.

As the needle digs into the nook of Baekhyun’s elbow, a disquieting

heat spreads out inside him. His body becomes hot. Oh God, too hot.

“It’s working,” Chanyeol notes out as he hovers over Baekhyun’s back.

“What the hell” –Baekhyun moans, clenching his fists on the fabric and
repositioning his legs, wanting to tear himself apart from his body– “did
you give me?”

“It’s an aphrodisiac, Baek,” He replies in a brash manner. “You’ll feel

better in a minute.”

Minutes later Baekhyun is not only feeling better, he is feeling heavenly.

His cock stands erect, his nipples perk up, and his tongue rolls off the
drool. His entire body is covered in sweat, and the heat is growing
unbearable, yet still tolerable.

Chanyeol aligns his cock along Baekhyun’s rim, rubbing the crown
against the puckered skin until Baekhyun keens.

“I… I don’t want this,” Baekhyun whimpers, clutching at the mattress

until veins pop along his hand. “Please, Chanyeol, make it stop.”

“Don’t want to,” Chanyeol simply shrugs.

The tip of Chanyeol’s cock slowly digs its way in, and Baekhyun sucks in
a sharp gasp. Chanyeol stills and Baekhyun lifts his hips off the
mattress, chasing after the cock teasing his entrance. He doesn’t know
why his body isn’t obeying him. He can’t even think right with the way he
feels because this isn’t right.

“In…” he mumbles on a low moan.

“Hum? What was that again?” Chanyeol feigns ignorance. “’Didn’t quite
catch that.”

Baekhyun lifts a hand and places it on one of his ass cheeks, he

spreads it open and mewls. “Stick it in deeper, you bastard.”

Chanyeol licks his upper lip and settles on biting his tongue when it
reaches the corner of his lips. He locks two vice-grips on both sides of
Baekhyun’s hips before he thrusts his cock in.
Baekhyun’s hand falls before him again as he lets loose a pornographic
moan. He props on his elbows and sinks both his hands into his hair,
clutching it to try to keep his moans stifled in.

“But that’s no fun, Baek,” Chanyeol whines, now grinding into

Baekhyun’s G-spot. “I like your voice, let me hear it.”

“Oh yeah,” Baekhyun sighs, “There, Chanyeol, right there, fuck me

harder.” His voice breaks right through his teeth into a litany of sexy
moans, eliciting Chanyeol and even making Jihoon hard under his
pants. And judging by the size, it looks like any more, and he’d burst.

Chanyeol brings his mouth to Baekhyun’s right ear, whispering sharply

into it. “Look at him; he might as well cum in his pants just hearing you
moan like a bitch in heat.” He says, snapping his hips more and causing
Baekhyun a pleasurable shudder. “But you know what’d happen if he
cums? You know what castration is, Baek? You’re a smart guy. I’m
pretty sure you have an idea what I’m talking about.”

If Chanyeol is saying that if Jihoon climaxes he’ll get his dick removed,
then Baekhyun is not really feeling intimidated.

“He ratted on me,” Baekhyun says through gritted teeth. “You can go
ahead and mutilate him all you want. Heck, I’ll even lend a hand.”

Chanyeol barks a laugh, now dropping his lips into Baekhyun’s neck.
“You think I was intimidating you?”
Baekhyun falls silent, short for the moans that make their way out every
now and then. “You weren’t?”

“No, you idiot,” He chuckles, now tonguing the carvings he made on

Baekhyun’s back. “I was intimidating him.”

Baekhyun groans in agony beneath him.

“Well, Jihoon, you can feast your eyes.” He muttered, nibbling at the
marks absentmindedly. “But he’s mine,” He said, “You hear me, Baek?
You’re my toy to break, and mine to fix.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, his clutch growing tighter on his hair. He
doesn’t know if someone out there is listening, but he begs, he begs to
be saved, anyone. He just wants to be saved. He feels the last piece of
his pride shatter. Soon ominous hands are on him, bringing darkness
over him with their stealth-like smoke, dragging him down to a
bottomless pit of nothingness. He knows now; he has reached the
bottom of Park Chanyeol’s darkness.

Baekhyun’s stomach lurches in instant horror as a flash of the dark

days he’s spent being Chanyeol’s toy played in his head. “I’ll kill you…”
He bites out, “remember this, Park Chanyeol.”

And soon, he shoots his load on the mattress.

“It’s hindering me,” Chanyeol murmurs to himself as he fumbles with

brown, unkempt hair. He is still straddling the back of a drained
Baekhyun, playing with smooth strands.
The faintest of tremors reverberate across Baekhyun’s arms and back
the longer Chanyeol’s skin keeps brushing against his. Yet all he
manages is a twitch. His side drapes one of his arms, and the other
slumped next to his face. His eyelids are fluttering to a slit as a stray
tear slides down the length of his nose.

“Bring me some scissors,” Chanyeol commands, distractedly. “As much

as I want you to grow out your hair,” this he tells Baekhyun as the other
man bustles about in the room. “But it’s in the way.” This time, he
fondles Baekhyun’s cheek and the latter flinches, only slightly though.
It’s as if he’s seen the hand coming to make contact with his face, but
he was still unable to rein in the reaction. A thumb is soon stroking the
mole over his right eyebrow ever so gently; it almost coaxes Baekhyun
to sleep. “You tried to buy your way out, Baek.” He starts, velvety voice
talking in a whisper, “and I can’t overlook that. Otherwise, you’ll keep
trying.”

Baekhyun shudders when the thumb presses against his temple. Pep
talk, really? The fucker just raped him senseless. God, his back is
throbbing so bad, just what the hell did Chanyeol carve on his skin?

“I checked on your friend by the way,” he tells him, conversationally.

Baekhyun’s eyes snap open, more focused as the irises tremble.

“He’s doing well. Your entire family is, too.” Chanyeol provides and adds
as an afterthought. “Better than you actually.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better. How?” Baekhyun grits

out, his voice raspy and a little scratchy.
“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” Chanyeol offers, “just name it.”

“I want to go home.” Baekhyun cries.

Chanyeol leans into the hollow of Baekhyun’s neck, caressing in the

lightest brush of his lips. “This is your home.”

“If you’re not going to give me what I want then why are you wasting our
time with idle chatter,” Baekhyun retaliates, “If you want to bribe me
into staying, I want nothing from a monster like you.”

Chanyeol’s jaw hinges down, lips pursing and brows furrowing. “Is that
so?”

“It is so,” Baekhyun replied.

Jihoon finally makes his way towards the mattress, handing the scissors
to Chanyeol.

“You call me a monster, but you’re the one who killed his friend.”
Chanyeol muses, now straightening up atop a shocked Baekhyun and
slowly sinking his fingers into the hair again.

“I didn’t.” Baekhyun insists, the veins along his temples popping.

“Oh, yes, you did.” Chanyeol drawls, holding a lock of Baekhyun’s hair to
cut it. “You rammed that knife right into his heart, and you didn’t even
bat an eye.”
The clipping of metal resonates like a vivid reminder of that day… the
day he stabbed Kyungsoo to death.

Baekhyun shakes his head and wails again. Oh God, he didn’t mean to.

“Careful there,” Chanyeol sing-songs, now holding another lock of

Baekhyun’s hair, “I might gouge a hole in your head or something.”

Baekhyun’s entire body stiffens, and he can almost taste the threat in
the nonchalantly spoken words.

“Your friend looked like he had the time of his life,” he resumes the
story. “Heck, I gotta say, I even had second thoughts whether or not he
was the same person. He looked really happy with his life.”

Baekhyun quiets down, doesn’t sniffle and doesn’t hiccup, “Good.”

The snipping of scissors pauses before it resumes again, ending the

deafening silence. “You know what you are, Baek?”

“Not a psychopath, I can tell you this much,” Baekhyun scoffs.

“And off with the heady sarcasm,” Chanyeol chirps, “Seriously, isn’t it
getting a little old?”

Just to spite him, Baekhyun chuckles, “Nope,” he drags the ‘p.’ “I

mean,” he clears his throat with a wet cough. Gosh, he shouldn’t have
screamed his lungs out like that. It’s not like that’s the first time
Chanyeol’s fucked him that hard. “Do you ever get tired of being the
psycho mania that gets off on maiming, skinning, and raping?”

“So we’re the same.” Chanyeol deadpans.

“You don’t get enough of torturing me, and I don’t get enough of putting
you on blast every time you think you’ve had your way with me. There’s
a difference.” Baekhyun huffs, crossly. His nostrils flaring

“You hear that, Kai?” Chanyeol muses like he’s just gotten his hand on
something Baekhyun babbled away unconsciously during his rant. “He
thinksI do not have my way with him.”

A high squeak leaves Baekhyun when he tries to mock-laugh with his

hoarse voice. “I said it before, you bastard” he starts, “I’ll say it again so
that this time it sinks in for good. I’ve long since had you figured out;
you’re a child, Chanyeol. I don’t know what fucked-up environment you
were raised in when you were a kid but brute force isn’t gonna cut it for
you anymore. It never had with me that is. Sorry, badass. And if you’re
thinking of bringing up your trump card of hurting my friend wherever
the hell he is, I say go ahead and screw yourself. You think after
everything, Hongbin won’t be prepared for getting jumped at again? Are
you also an idiot besides being a nut job?” he seethes, the tirade of his
ranting making Chanyeol completely still and silent. “I’ve managed to
break out of every room you put me in, what makes you think I’d stop.
Because you say you love me? Are you fucking kidding me? Why would I
fall for a nutcase like you? You abuse me physically for leisure. You rape
me on a regular basis and plug your cum inside after every single time.
And God, this is the worst of it. You always talk like you already have me
wrapped around your little finger!” He pants, breathlessly.
“Seems like your story is short of a little detail, though.” Chanyeol
mutters.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes on the floor, searchingly. His chest heaves.

Chanyeol lifts the scissor and stabs it into the mattress next to his knee.
He combs the short hair and scoffs, hot breath fanning down on
Baekhyun’s cheek. “I’ve never asked you to love me back.” He says,
icily. “You know why?”

Baekhyun gulps, chest lifting off the mattress as he anticipates the

answer.

“Because you already do” he scoffs, “and for the record, you can’t get
out.”

“You say that now,” Baekhyun barks a derisive laugh, ignoring the bit
where Chanyeol said Baekhyun loves him back because he doesn’t. He
never will. “But guess what, even if Jihoon here is loyal to you to a fault,
I’ll still find a way out. And not you, not any of your sick minions with a
penchant to set up innocent people and yell out Nebula out of the
freaking blue can stop me!”

At that, Chanyeol’s body tilts sideways, and he falls over with his eyes
closed, going completely limp.

“Sire!” Jihoon rushes towards them, wide strides getting him sooner to
the mattress.
Baekhyun, awestruck and wide-eyed and also still in a lot of pain, bugs
his eyes out at an unconscious Chanyeol. The unmoving body and the
lax features, it’s almost as if he’s died in his sleep. But Baekhyun knows
the devil isn’t dead –he isn’t sure if he is even mortal, for that matter.
However, something must have gone wrong, and with all the
experiments the maniac does on people. Maybe it’s finally backfiring,
and this is some special brand of hell concocted for him. Baekhyun
can’t bring himself to care at this point. He waits until Jihoon is cradling
the psycho on his lap and then he latches at the scissors Chanyeol
planted into the mattress. He yanks them out and, raiment-less makes
for the door, not looking back, not even once.

He stumbles out of the door leading to the stairs of hell and savors a
moment with the rackety of life bustling in the refulgent hallway.
Although he’s out of eyeshot, he can’t help but peek at the civilians
traipsing in and out, minding their own business. An image of Chanyeol
blacking out flashes inside Baekhyun’s head. He stills completely, the
memory rendering him motionless. He actually marvels at the fact that
he’s getting second thoughts here and, fuck, almost worrying about that
psycho maniac who tortured him in every possible way your mind can
think of. He raped him every day. He double-raped him on bad days. He
starved him, killed all his friends. Why is Baekhyun supposed to worry
about a person like him, now, of all times?

A reedy voice, the female receptionist’s, blares through the speakers

about ‘Doctor Park Chanyeol is required in room 66’, and Baekhyun
panics. He scans the hallways with a pair of trembling eyes. He knows
he can’t head out, so he tiptoes to a random door, twists the knob and
rejoices at the temporary shelter. Apparently, the patient in this room
has been given some of the good stuff –if the dopey eyes and the drool
are any indications to go by. Baekhyun takes the liberty to poke around
this guy’s things. He cry-laughs faintly when he gets a hold of a white
Henley and light blue jeans. He doesn’t bother with shoes. He puts the
Henley on first, feeling a shock of pain shoot through him once the
fabric touches his back wounds. Then he quickly dons the pants, not
wanting to waste any more time. As he fumbles with the zipper, he can
feel small beads of sweat running down his forehead, mingled with
metallic-smelling liquid.

There’s a square clock on the dresser that shows five thirty in the
evening.

Baekhyun borrows the guy’s phone. He also borrows his money, and if
there were keys he’d borrow them too, but he doesn’t want to linger.
Chanyeol’s men (he must have bought new mercenary since Chanyeol
died and the other machete and bow men haven’t shown their mugs in
a while) they’d be out there looking for him, so Baekhyun scurries
stealthily towards the gate of his freedom.

He stands at the top of the stairs, just taking in everything for a

moment. He can see signs of a town with scattered street lights just a
few miles away from the clinic. There’s a vast and almost vacant
parking lot just ahead of the entrance. Other than that, there are just
acres and acres of fog-covered woods looking ghostly under the cloudy
night sky –the first he’s seen of the outside world in months. But then
he hears it: the gruff voice that belongs to the machete man reminding
Baekhyun of gory images and blood-curdling screams. He whips his
head to the source of it and finds the man with another, making their
way to the gate from inside the clinic. Baekhyun’s feet shuffle, and soon
he is dashing to a gray Camry. He attempts to unlock its door, but it
doesn’t open. He glances fervently at the gate and sees the two men
scanning the place from their perch. Baekhyun ducks and crawls to a
red Civic. When he touches it, the car alarm goes off, revealing his
location in the vicinity.

He stills, completely.

For a moment, he can almost feel his heart beating in his throat: so
loud, he hears the pulse.
He props up very slowly and finds the two men sprinting his way. It’d
take at least a minute to break the window of the car and unlock the
door. Then if there’s no key in the glove compartment or on the
dashboard, he’s going to have to hot-wire the damn car and that could
be another minute. Without pondering the consequences, he turns
around, and darts forward –towards the woods.

Dead, dewed twigs stab his uncovered soles and dry but sharp
branches graze his wounded sides, but Baekhyun doesn’t stop, not
even for a breather.

He remembers writing this scholarly article back in junior year. He

picked the topic about TF-CBT under the expressed notion that reliving
traumatic experiences heal PTSD. It’s ironic, because it’s exactly what
he’s doing now -reliving his deepest fears, his worst nightmares.

He hears the scuttle of footsteps, crunching the fallen leaves and

coming after him.

He is hurt. The cuts on his face have reopened and are now dripping
blood -he swipes at them with his sleeve. He is cold.

The fresh odor of pine trees and mountain plants gets carried in the
wind, spread out in the chilly space, and it brings silverlight with it.
When Baekhyun looks up, he finds that the clouds have cleared out a
little and there it is, the half moon with its radiant halo, illuminating his
path and shedding light on the cabin just a few yards away. Baekhyun
looks around, assured that nobody is close by skulking him. He trudges
to the cabin and locks himself in its bathroom.
He feels around for a light switch; he doesn’t find it. It’s a cabin, he
should’ve guessed as much. His hand knocks against a flashlight. He
flicks it on to study his surroundings. The room barely has enough
space for a person his height to recline askew. There’s a mirror cracked
in the middle hanging on the panel. Barrels, a lot of barrels, a dirty sink,
a head shower spray and some shabby towels on a rack. Someone’s
gone through some trouble installing everything, and the pumps,
someone lived here. It’s too bad they left in a hurry, leaving everything
behind. He guesses their loss is his gain.

He looks in the mirror; a ravaged face of a torture victim is looking back

at him.

“What have you gotten yourself into, stupid Baek.” He tells his
reflection, and he wipes a smudge to amend it but more blood smears
stain the surface. He is left with is a blurred image of himself -of his
unknown future. He feels the injuries Chanyeol left on his back bleeding
again. He fetches a towel, turns the spigot on, but there’s no running
water. He spins just a little so that most of his back is facing the mirror
but enough so that he can crane his neck to see what reflects on it as
well. He furls the Henley from the collar and freezes at the sight: there
are characters -Hangul- carved into his back. He doesn’t remove his
shirt because he’s pretty sure the fabric has glued itself to the blood,
but he pries it apart from his skin bit by bit just to read what the fucker
carved on his skin.

“Park Chan” he reads, “Yeol” his breath suddenly hitches as he

exclaims “he engraved his name! He fucking etched it into my skin!”

Suddenly something creaks outside these confining walls, something

ominous. Baekhyun looks up, pupils blown and chary, he quickly places
the towel on his wounds to keep them from bleeding more as he stands
still, waiting.
Footsteps march very slowly inside the cabin, ignoring how the plank
moans under strain.

“Baekhyun~” a velvety voice intones, playfully.

Baekhyun’s body goes rigid with fear. His pupils dilate with it. They
tremble as he holds his breath, praying to whoever brought him here to
spare him. Last time he saw Chanyeol the maniac was unconscious, so
what in the blue hell is he doing here trailing him down.

“I know you’re in here.” Chanyeol sing-songs, “this is actually a lot of

fun.”

Baekhyun’s jaw hinges down as resignation finally settles in.

He’s been going around it for a while when the glaring truth had been
there, in plain sight: he can never get away. Not now, not ever. He is
Chanyeol’s hobby; he is that man’s plaything and men like Chanyeol
don’t give up on their playthings. Somehow, Baekhyun knew that but he
preferred the illusory safety he felt not mulling this over.

Valiantly going against Chanyeol’s orders, diving head-on into the man’s
darkness and pulling devil-may-cry stunts… he knew it was a world of
make-believe so he wouldn’t have to deal with the reality of the
situation. There’s no way Chanyeol would let go of him now, not after
he’s gone to the extreme to make Baekhyun his bitch, even carving his
own name on his captive.

A Knock…
Baekhyun’s eyes well up with tears that soon stream down his cheeks,
and soon, he is sobbing silently.

Two more knocks now.

Baekhyun clears his throat and looks around the bathroom again. He
probably can’t escape, but he’s going to make sure he’ll go down
fighting if it comes down to that.

Chanyeol pounds on the door now, “Open the fucking door, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun shakes his head and shuffles in a slight rearward movement,

grabs the flashlight and aims it at the door.

The door rattles when Chanyeol, most likely, punches it.

Baekhyun doesn’t want to be entombed inside those four walls again,

and he doesn’t want to spend what’s left of his life pleasing a maniac
until he fades away… gosh the idea alone is repellent to him.

“This actually amps up the passion in our relationship, don’t you think?”
Chanyeol scoffs, pounding the door and twisting the knob, willing it to
come off, which Baekhyun fears, could happen soon. “Come on, Baek,
enough games, open up.”

“No.” Baekhyun’s brittle voice hollers.

“You want me to kick this door down, ‘cause I will!” Chanyeol threatens.

“I want you to leave me alone!” Baekhyun bellows.

“Now you’re just acting like a teenage girl who cries ‘I hate you, Dad’
and locks herself in her room.” Chanyeol jokes. “Come on, Baek.” He
coaxes, “Open up; I’m kinda itching to see you.”

“No, you want to beat me to death.”

“Not to death, per se.” Chanyeol assures, “it can’t be helped, Baek.
What? You go harum-scarum and try to buy your ticket outta this place
and expect me to let it slide?”

“You carved your name on my back!”

Chanyeol falls silent for a moment. “Yeah,” he sighs wistfully, “did you
like it?”

Without thinking it through –and why should he? Suicides aren’t

supposed to be planned– Baekhyun strangles himself with his bare
hands hoping his tongue would block his trachea when he falls
unconscious. The flashlight falls from his hand and lands harshly on the
old plank, lolls to the side when Baekhyun crumbles to his knees and
lands shoulder-first.

He wakes up to a face beaded with perspiration and a pair of terrified

eyes peering down at him –the revenant. Chanyeol is looking scared?
Now, this is a moment to behold. Baekhyun fights past the hazy vision
to focus on what Chanyeol is shouting.

“You hear me,” he snarls, “Your life is mine, you bastard. It’s the final
rule. You have no right to end your life without my permission. If you do
something like this again, I’ll make sure to bring you back and hurt you
to the point you’re gonna want to die again, but you won’t, ‘cause I
won’t let you.” He is barking at the last sentence.

This is what Baekhyun’s been resuscitated for, to hear more threats? In

that case, he’ll just go back to being unconscious. At least that way,
he’ll be doing something to shelve the torture that is sure to follow.

Tap, tap, tap...

Baekhyun groans awake.

Slosh.

He heaves a sigh as he puffs out his chest and straightens his back.
When he tries to stretch, he finds that his wrists are tied behind his
back and that he is perched on a wooden chair.

“I never tire of watching that,” Chanyeol’s voice replaces the silence for
a scary moment.

Baekhyun’s eyes dart to the man whose elbow is resting on the armrest
of the settee just inches apart from the chair that has, obviously,
replaced the mattress.
“That’s probably cause you’re a nut-job.” Baekhyun hisses, jerking his
hands to untie the cord.

Chanyeol’s shoulders rock when he gives a small, taunting laugh. “I’m

not the one who tried to kill himself.”

“Surprised you haven’t.” Baekhyun glares defiantly, corner of his lips

curling up into a smirk.

Chanyeol wets his lips and folds his arms over his chest. “So what’s
your theory?”

Baekhyun shrugs. “There’s no theory; you’re a complete maniac, and

that’s that. Maybe a little schizophrenic too.”

“I don’t talk to myself or hear voices in my head.” Chanyeol counters,

“So what’s your other therapeutic opinion?”

“You should probably check your epinephrine levels,” Baekhyun scoffs,

humorlessly. “And while you’re at it, don’t forget to pass by a psych
ward. I’m sure they won’t mind lending you a straightjacket.”

Chanyeol hums and nods, “I see.” He concludes, “epinephrine, huh?”

Baekhyun scrunches up his face, “Don’t tell me I’m about to hear a

lecture about endogenous chemicals by the oh so amazing Park
Chanyeol, the psycho neurologist.”
“Even better,” Chanyeol chirps, “we’re going to witness a
demonstration.”

Baekhyun peers up at the man.

Chanyeol, still smiling, takes out a small syringe from the pocket of his
pants.

Baekhyun’s heart somersaults.

“I understand there hasn’t been much change of airs,” Chanyeol

sidesteps the chair with the syringe in hand. “After spending months
holed up in this room, I bet you’re starting to feel stuck in a rut. I would.”
He suddenly comes to a standstill. “But I told you before, many times
already, this is your home now,” he says through gritted teeth. “Stop
plotting jailbreaks.”

“You’re not exactly giving me much option here, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun

murmurs, eyes sliding to the corner, attentive for Chanyeol if he does
stab that needle in his face. “Calling it jailbreak isn’t going to make me
stop.”

Chanyeol walks up to the backrest of the chair, and Baekhyun can’t see
the man even if he cranes his neck. Heavy hands rest on Baekhyun’s
shoulders, one holding the syringe. “Do you remember when I said I’d
get my men on your friend if you attempted anything like trying to
escape?”

Baekhyun’s mouth runs dry.

“I tried to avoid resorting to that, I really did, but you’re so caught up
with trying to get away from this place, from me. I think I’m fucking done
trying to save your ass. It’d be very remiss of me to ignore it this time,
you can’t dodge this one, Baekhyun, Your friend will bear the
consequences of your selfish actions.” His hands, they squeeze
Baekhyun’s shoulders.

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Kill me,” he howls, voice resonating into
the room and coming back to him. He adds, calmer now. “You know I’d
never be yours, even if you use my friend.”

Chanyeol returns to sit on the armrest of the settee, “Oh I’ll use him,
and your parents, I’ll kill all of them,” he says on a dazzling smile. “Until
there’s just you left.”

There’s a numbness that is slowly wiggling its way to Baekhyun’s limbs,

spreading out from his middle. A certain memory of Chanyeol never fails
to keep his promises flashes before his wide, terrified eyes.

“P-please…” he mutters in almost a whisper.

Chanyeol cocks his head and gives a condescending smile.

“Please,” Baekhyun pleads again, parting his mouth open for a moment
before gritting his teeth with apparent fear; tears that he didn’t know his
eyes held roll down his pale cheeks.

To his astonishment, the smile Chanyeol gives him is more maniacal

than he’s ever seen the man make before. He leans in a little closer,
eyes glinting with something malicious. “why are you scared?” he
inquires, voice deep and smoky. “When I’m already here.”

Baekhyun feels his breath leaving him, and his lungs are soon chasing
after every gulp of air, giving way to a full-fledged case of
hyperventilation to hit him like a tide of raging waves.

Chanyeol hushes him gently, bringing a hand to Baekhyun’s cheek and

the other he uses to inject his arm with the aforementioned syringe.
Baekhyun’s sobbing and panting noises turn into low groans as
warmness, odd and intense, spreads inside of him, riffling and warring
within without mercy. He throws his head to the back; eyes roll under
his lids and images of what happened in the woods reappear as his
senses dull. If only he grew tame and deified Chanyeol, consented to his
commands, none of this would have happened. And soon, there's a
strangled and garbled sound down his throat before he parts his lips
and lets loose a feral scream.

Chanyeol unties Baekhyun’s wrists and stands before him, just waiting,
watching with rapt how Baekhyun, as soon as he is freed from the
shackles, pounces Chanyeol’s lips. The latter indulges him, kissing him
back and moaning into the reckless kiss, teeth and noses knocking
together. Baekhyun pushes the other down on the settee and
immediately straddles his lap, crotch grinding against Chanyeol’s, who
lets go of a low rumble in response.

After Chanyeol left the room, leaving Baekhyun half naked and slumped
on the settee, Kim Jihoon walks in. Unlike any other times, he wakes
Baekhyun up with a wary look in his eyes.

“Baekhyun,” Jihoon shakes him by the forearms, “wake up, come on,
wake up!”
Baekhyun, groggy and sexed out, lets his head loll to the side, doesn’t
open his eyes until Jihoon shakes him hard again. “What now?” he
grumbles, jadedly.

“We need to leave here!” he hollers, lifting Baekhyun up and crouching

to lift his pants up next.

“No,” Baekhyun mumbles, “I don’t want a repeat of last time. I don’t

trust you.”

Kim Jihoon straightens up and fixes Baekhyun with a strange look. “He
trusts me now,” He says, “Park Chanyeol trusts me.”

Baekhyun creases his eyebrows in response.

“Look, he didn’t use to be like this. It all happened after Hannah

showed up at the doors of this clinic.” He tells him, fumbling over his
pockets for something. He takes out a handkerchief and tosses it to
Baekhyun. “After he collapsed the other night, I decided I’ve had
enough. Something isn’t right.”

“You think?” Baekhyun scoffs, taking the handkerchief and bowing a

little to see between his legs, feeling his body heavy from the waist
down. After Jihoon looks away, Baekhyun wipes his inner thighs and
mumbles something about Chanyeol coming a lot inside of him.

Jihoon finally faces Baekhyun and flares his nose. “I’ll get you out. I can
deal with the men who brought you here, and I hope Chanyeol doesn’t
suspect anything until I’ve dealt with Hannah.”
“Deal with Hannah, how?” he asks, following suit after Jihoon headed to
the door.

“Do you remember when you and your friend escaped?” he inquires,
and doesn’t wait for an answer. “Do you remember how he was?”

Baekhyun can’t exactly forget that even if he wants to.

“When he’s upstairs, he doesn’t remember anything about spending

half of his time with you, but when he’s here, he remembers everything
about his life up there.” He cranes his neck outside the door, scans the
hall and forges forward when no one shows up. A fervent glance over-
shoulder assures him that Baekhyun is walking closely behind. “I
inspected Hannah had something to do with it, the fact that Park
Chanyeol’s mood changes every time she’s around. I realized
something, when you ranted on the other day, something you said, it’s
the same thing Hannah says to him sometimes.” He stops and looks up.
“There are no cameras around because she doesn’t want Chanyeol to
find out about this place when he’s lucid.” He suddenly turns around,
facing Baekhyun again, “You know what hypnosis is?”

Baekhyun’s eyes widen.

“I looked up Hannah’s files; she’s a hypnotherapist. She’s had Park

Chanyeol hypnotized ever since she stepped foot into this place, and he
doesn’t know. He won’t listen to someone like me either.”

“Hypnotized?” Baekhyun almost laughs, “But how is that even possible.

He isn’t usually dripping balls when he’s raping me silly; how can
someone be so evil and not remember?”
“Believe what you want,” Jihoon tells him after a pause, “I’m taking you
out of here, but once you leave, don’t look back. Go to your family, tell
them about Chanyeol’s men and leave everything behind.” He advises,
“Don’t stop until you’re far by a good hundred miles.”

And that is a tempting idea. “What about Chanyeol?”

Jihoon lowers his head. “Knowing him, the truth will most likely kill him.”
He says, now his eyes do a stupid glint that deceives Baekhyun with
something like hope and care which he no longer trusts is there. “He is
a brilliant doctor. He saves lives.” He starts, “I’ve worked for his family
since I was a kid. I looked after him ever since, and he’s never been this
aggressive. Something must have happened that changed him, and I
know the answers I’m seeking Hannah has them.” He determines, “I’ll
deal with her first, cut off the head of the snake, right? Hopefully, with
her gone, his ‘dark’ side will be gone as well.”

Baekhyun has the good grace to look a little cowed by the revelation at
least and, for a fragment of a second, he is suddenly beset by doubts.

“I know it’s not gonna cut it, but I’m sorry for everything.” Jihoon’s
features contort apologetically.

“You’re right,” Baekhyun grits out, “it’s not gonna cut it.”

“I wish you’d met him under better circumstances. The real Park
Chanyeol.” He sighs until his chest lifts up and falls. “You haven’t
missed the train. Baekhyun, go back to your family, to your life. You still
have time to start over; many didn’t.” Saying so, Jihoon turns around
and walks away.
That’s it?

‘Go back to your life,’ what kind of half-assed speech is that? And
Jihoon couldn’t look a little more emphatic for him? And sorry, for what,
for allowing Chanyeol a better playground by keeping his mouth shut
about every possible kind of torture Baekhyun had to undergo, or about
Chanyeol’s insanity and his regal forebears’ whom must have been the
pioneers of those woods. Gosh, just how many people have they killed
so far! –tortured and... Baekhyun’s entire body heats up; damn it, he
can even feel little remnants of cum slowly sliding down his inner
thighs. So all those times Chanyeol did whatever he wanted with
Baekhyun, it’s because he was hypnotized to do it. Is this the joke of the
century or what. You can’t just go about, hunting down humans for a
hobby, peel off their skin for sheer pleasure, and then blame it on
hypnosis. –Baekhyun’s hands ball up into fists by his hips– you can’t
just spend that much time, confined to someone for hours, brag about
owing them, loving them… and not remember.

There it is the door to Baekhyun’s freedom, the thing he’s always been
jonesing for.

Yet why does it look so far away.

His feet shuffle, undecided about the direction they want to carry him
to, they stomp towards the doors but soon come to a sudden halt, and
draggle towards the direction Jihoon disappeared to instead.

He can’t leave just yet.

Just like Jihoon is looking for answers, Baekhyun also wants them, and
he wants them now. –his body collides with someone else’s and
Baekhyun recoils to the back, wincing as the movement jars his injuries.
They’re still so ripe he can smell them.

“Oh, it’s you.”

The deep, velvety voice –Baekhyun snaps his eyes up to the man before
him, his own widening with shock and horror. Maybe this time Chanyeol
will give the order, maybe he will finally decide he’s had enough of
Baekhyun and have him killed in the worst possible way. Maybe his
psychopathic love was merely an infatuation, and those don’t last.

“I gotta be honest with you,” he says, smiling thinly. “I think I deserve to

know what’s going on with you.” He starts, “you can’t just show up a
second time in my clinic looking like you’ve survived a train crash and
expect me not to ask questions.”

Baekhyun’s mind goes blank.

Jihoon wasn’t lying… the void-faced bastard wasn’t lying.

Chanyeol, dressed in a lab coat and holding a couple of yellow files,

furrows. “Ah-huh,” he says, swinging his index ‘no’ and closing the
distance between them. “That’s the face you made last time before you
squawked your lungs out.”

“Chanyeol.” Baekhyun’s hand goes up to clutch Chanyeol’s.

The latter tilts his head a little and smiles. “It’s Doctor, but sure, at least
we’re getting to something if you’re starting to talk.”

Baekhyun shakes his head sideways. “Listen to me.” He squeezes

Chanyeol’s hand, desperately, yet his voice holds no argument.
“Hannah, the hypnotist, she’s been controlling you, Chanyeol. I’m not
gonna sugarcoat it for you because you’ve been a complete jackass to
me,” he holds Chanyeol’s look, and doesn’t even blink when he
discloses the truth, “she hypnotizes you to torture and kill people.
There’s a dungeon underground where you keep them; it’s where you’ve
been keeping me this whole time.”

Chanyeol’s smile falls, and he takes an unconscious, faltering step to

the back, trying very faintly to retract his hand from Baekhyun’s. “I think
you should leave.” He concludes, wets his dry throat and sighs
attentively. “It’s fine. I won’t charge you or anything, just, please, leave.”

Baekhyun curses under his breath, letting go of Chanyeol’s hand to take

off his shirt. He turns around, baring his back to the man, “you
engraved your name on me a few nights ago, Chanyeol,” and it still
pulsates like a bad throb. “I can even show you the dungeon where you
keep your pets, and how do you explain the scar on your face? Look,
there’s a ton of evidence if you want to debate this, but we don’t have
time.” When he turns around, Chanyeol is pale and ashen-faced.
“Jihoon went to face Hannah about all this, but he’s gonna need our
help.”

“Jihoon?” he echoes, disbelievingly, “Kim Jihoon?”

Baekhyun nods. “He’s had enough of cleaning up after you,” he

explains, “tonight he said he was going to deal with your psycho
therapist to put the lid on your dark side.”
The files in Chanyeol’s hand fall to the tiled floor, and he slowly totters
rearward, landing on the wall behind.

Baekhyun walks up to him. “We don’t exactly have time for this,
Chanyeol.” He bellows, “I need to ask you something, alright?”

Chanyeol’s pupils are trembling so fast Baekhyun isn’t sure the man is
taking in anything right now, but he asks anyways.

“Do you know why she did this to you?”

Chanyeol surprises him when he shakes his head, “God,” he groans.

“All those dreams that I’ve been having lately, that’s real?” He looks
into Baekhyun’s eyes, awe-stricken and scared, like a little kid. “And
your body,” he doubles over, retching, but nothing comes out, “I did
that?”

Whatever glint was left in Baekhyun’s eyes, goes out. “Yes, you did this
to me” he deadpans. “You killed my friends and had your minions
torture them, just like you tortured me.”

Chanyeol’s heaving stops and his entire body goes still.

“My ass is still crammed with your cum, Chanyeol.” He brings a hand to
his abdomen, strokes it in sensual motions. “We fucked so hard in my
cell just half an hour ago.”
Chanyeol’s lump pops along his throat when he looks up, beholding
Baekhyun’s body in such an unsettling silence. And so out of the blue,
he shoots past Baekhyun, making his way to the stairs. Baekhyun, for
the first time, feels so alive. He’s finally reciprocated the favor. Chanyeol
will never be the same –tortured by his own dreams, that’s
inconsequential, but these reminders, park Chanyeol will relive the hell
he’s hauled Baekhyun down to.

Chanyeol leads them to a door with a nameplate that reads Lee

Hannah; he rams it open and walks in, Baekhyun in tow. Hannah looks
up from her desk, wide eyes bewildered. She entwines her fingers over
the open files she has on her desk and smirks.

“Decided to bring your playground upstairs?” Her smirk deepens, “I

have to say, that’s a little stretching it, even for you.”

“You whore.” Chanyeol snarls and watches with fury how she drops her
smirk and stumbles to her feet. He scurries to her side, but she backs
away, terror seizing her. “You had me hypnotized for your own
amusement!”

She doesn’t deny anything and Baekhyun can see how Chanyeol wants
to tear himself out of his body.

“Why!” Chanyeol exclaims with a roar, his voice almost cracking.

She shrugs. “Because I can?” she says. “Just for funs. You and I played
a little game a while back, and I had you profiled. You were still shaken
by the death of your parents, and I offered you a way out. You didn’t
refuse,” she explains. “In one of the psychology tests I gave you, you
showed high chances of personality disorder, and I used it for my
academic research.”

Baekhyun, even liking the look of horror on Chanyeol’s face, he can’t

stop that side of him that feels anger on Chanyeol’s behalf. To have his
mind screwed around with like a guinea pig, he’s one unlucky son of a
bitch.

“You permitted the hypnosis session to help you forget your parents’
death,” she elaborates. “And I took the liberty to uncage that side of you
that has been dying to be released for a long, long time.”

Chanyeol fists his hand and punches the desk, not caring if it cracked
his knuckles. “Are you kidding me?” he bawls, “I killed people, I tortured
them…” He stares wide-eyed at a spot on the desk, as though finally
realizing something that, by the looks if it, horrifies him. “I raped him.”

Baekhyun flinches under the pair of eyes now staring at him.

The door flings open again as Jihoon walks in, covered in cuts and
blood. He takes in the scene for a moment before slumping down face-
first. Baekhyun retreats away from the body. His eyes glancing at
Chanyeol and then back at the door as two men, the machete guy and
the bowman, walk in, brandishing their weapons about.

“Nebula,” Hannah mutters with a smirk.

And then all the pieces fall together, and Baekhyun finally sees the
image that’s been kept under veil all this time. The key word, the thing
that connects Chanyeol to his sanity, a single word that –Baekhyun grits
his teeth– has a lot of people killed horrendously. When he looks
Chanyeol’s direction, he knows what he’s going to find, but he is not
scared to see it.

“Love~” Chanyeol drawls, playfully.

Baekhyun holds his ground, he wants to scoot out of that open door, he
wants to so bad, but he won’t.

Chanyeol saunters towards Baekhyun’s direction. “What in the blue hell

are you doing here?”

“I’d ask you the same thing,” Baekhyun smirks, “but then again, you
probably won’t remember.”

Chanyeol tilts his head like a confused dog, “I asked you a question,
aek.”

Baekhyun, for the part of being wise, scuffs his feet to the back.

“He’s been defying your orders and going about causing your men
trouble,” Hannah provides in his stead, “Can you please see to his
rebellion.”

Baekhyun glares at her and switches to look at Chanyeol, who is already

palming out his hand to send a slap across Baekhyun’s cheek. The
latter didn’t survive months of unrelenting agony and made it out of that
cell to eventually fall victim to Hannah’s plots, that’s not how he’ll go
down. “Chanyeol,” he says in a small voice, gentle, caring.
Chanyeol’s open hand stops mid-air.

“I defied you by leaving my room, I admit to it.” He says, “But if I really

wanted to leave, I wouldn’t still be here. Jihoon came to me for help, you
understand? Chanyeol, I’m not your enemy, she is. She’s done things to
your head, and she’s had you fooled all this time.”

“Nonsense!” Hannah blares her nose, “Chanyeol is my coworker,” she

declares, “I’d never do something so out of the line like that.”

Chanyeol quirks a smile, “she’s more convincing.”

Baekhyun swallows hard, hoping to ease the sharp stab of envy piercing
his stomach. And in a moment of prolonged silence, he reevaluates his
choice of words, because it could be his last.

“I don’t want to go back downstairs,” he admits, eyes slowly beholding

Chanyeol’s after the latter mutters a ‘you’ve made that plenty clear.’
“but I don’t want to leave you either.”

“I’m listening,” Chanyeol intones and ushers to Hannah to keep quiet

when she interjected to say something.

“What I want is to walk under the sun with you side by side,” he says.
“It’s tearing me apart to say this, but I realized that no matter how hard
I try to leave here, I can’t bring myself to whenever I remember my time
with you.”
Chanyeol narrows his eyes slightly at his captive.

“Chanyeol, let’s leave here. I want us to be together away from all these
people.” He pleads, now dashing forward to take Chanyeol’s lips in his,
“I love you.” He whispers through swollen lips. His eyes now look into
Chanyeol’s, and for a terrifying moment, he almost believes his own act
because the look in Chanyeol’s eyes has too much love, harbored for
him and only him. “I want to be with you forever.”

In a remarkable second, Chanyeol spins around and steals the machete

from its owner’s scabbard, stabbing his chest with it. The bowman
jumps back, outside the room, draws his bow and arrow and shoots it
Chanyeol’s way, hitting his knee. Chanyeol cries out and falls to his
other knee, cradling the one injured. The bowman brings another arrow.
This one he sets its head on fire before he shoots it.

“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun calls out “Watch out!”

Chanyeol dodges the flaming arrow coming his way, allowing it to go

past him and land inside on Hannah’s desk and the papers immediately
go aflame. Hannah seizes the moment of everyone’s distraction to flee
the scene, uncaring about perfecting the plan anymore. When
Baekhyun tries to go after her, his ankle is caught by Jihoon. He demurs
after whipping his head at his direction, wanting to ignore him but
Jihoon is the one who helped him out of the room, so he owes the man
this much. He doesn’t want to be owed, especially not by someone like
Jihoon.

“The patients,” the man in pain coughs out, “Take them out.”

Baekhyun takes in the fight scene and then he looks at Jihoon again.
“Please,” he begs, blood now seeping through his lips. “This room
doesn’t have a fire alarm. The fire’s not going to stop, and the patients
might get hurt, please.”

“What about you?”

“I’m done for,” Jihoon sighs, slowly closing his eyes. “Gonna nap here.”

For a mere psycho’s minion, Baekhyun thinks Jihoon went down like a
badass. He lingers enough for a final momentary look before he runs
down the hallway, coming to a small red box hooked to the wall. He
breaks its glass with his elbow –he’s already covered in cuts, what’s
one more. He pulls down the fire alarm and dashes to the first door to
his right, wrenches it open and moves on to the next until he’s opened
all the doors and can see now patients rushing out of their cacophony
of bed sheets and morpheme. Baekhyun guides them out like a scout
boy; he helps the ones who can’t walk to their wheelchair and asks the
ones who can to take them along.

When the fire reaches the other rooms, Baekhyun wonders why the
smoke detectors aren’t spraying any water but Hannah’s disappearance
kind of gives him the answer he wanted. Speaking of the Spawn of
Satan, he catches sight of Hannah rushing to the direction of the
surgery room. Baekhyun doesn’t waste any time and springs after her.
He spots a plant stand, breaks it on his knee in half and uses them to
lock the handles of the door after finding her inside skimming through
papers for something. Hannah soon clouts a hand to the opaque round
window of the door, the grids on the glass masking most of her face.

“How’s that feel, you slut?” He beams, maniacally. No obscenities can

soothe his anger, but he feels the bells of winning ring like a blessing.
“Not so good, is it? And you know what, I’m not even done yet.” He
chirps, using the sharp end of the other piece of the stand to cut his
arm and uses the blood, which soon oozes out, to paint letters on the
vast white door. “No one’s going to approach this door now. Have fun
getting grilled.”

When he faces away, he finds that the smoke is a sea of mist by now
and he can feel the lack of oxygen granting him short vision and
dizziness. He covers his mouth with a hand and coughs into it, forges
between the smoke clouds wafting into the space, looking for Chanyeol.

The flames have eaten most of Hannah’s desk when Baekhyun gets to
it; he finds Chanyeol crouching over the bowman’s body just beside it.
His form hazy with all the smoke.

“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun calls out, but as soon as he opens his mouth, the
smoke rushes into his lungs, and he coughs into the nook of his elbow
again.

Chanyeol lifts off the body and reels around, face splattered with blood.
He cuts his eyes up at Baekhyun –dead eyes that make him feel like he
could drown with no chance to float back up to the surface. “He’s
gone.”

Baekhyun nibbles at his bottom lip, doing his hardest to keep from
turning around and running with his tail between his legs. “I know.” He
tells him, winces when the smoke layers thicken. “Let’s just leave.”

Said man walks up to him, shoulders drooped and jaw slack. “I need to
find her.”
“She’s not a problem anymore, Chanyeol. I locked her up in the surgery
room.” Baekhyun beseeches now, “Let’s get outta here too, please.”

Chanyeol shakes his head in a way that says it’s too late and Baekhyun
fucking hates it. He brings a hand to Baekhyun’s nape, pulls him closer
to knock their foreheads together and closes his eyes, a thumb stroking
his nape. “I don’t belong out there, Baek.” He says, eyelids slowly
parting open, “You have to go.”

Baekhyun shakes his head reluctantly, not wanting to break off the
physical contact because, for the first time in so many months,
Chanyeol is holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the entire
world.

Chanyeol’s hand gives another squeeze, as though memorizing the

feeling of Baekhyun’s skin under his fingertips because it’d be his last.
He lets go just as sudden and pushes Baekhyun away, “Go!” he hollers,
a hand pointing at the direction of the stairs.

Baekhyun’s feet move on their own accord, but he can’t find the
strength in him to look away from Chanyeol, as if he did Chanyeol’s
body would evaporate into million smoke particles, to never regenerate
again. The smog condenses and what’s beyond blurs. Chanyeol’s shape
slowly fades way, just like Baekhyun feared, taking all the nightmares
with him.

Baekhyun runs and runs, and runs like hellhounds are after him,
leaving nothing but the flames, the pain, and Chanyeol behind. And he
doesn’t stop until a police SUV blares its honk at him, headlights
flashing in his eyes like the fluorescent tubes back in the roof of his cell.
Blue and red lights spin in the open and Baekhyun looks around as the
vehicle pulls over the lane. He is on the same road their van died at, but
this time he is all by himself.
“Sir?” an officer heads his way, flashlight in hand and the other on the
hostler of his gun.

Baekhyun faces him with a glassy look in his eyes.

The taller male becomes more alert. “We’ve received a call about a
house fire,” he informs. When he tries to add something, Baekhyun cuts
him off.

“Clinic,” he corrects, pupils traveling to the unending length of the sky.

“Not house –that place is not a house,” he mutters. He becomes more
focused and looks at the officer. “Did you get everyone out in time?”

The officer nods. “The firefighters are doing their best, sir.” He comes
closer, cautiously. “I’m Deputy Huang Zitao, can I ask you a few
questions?” he asks, and when Baekhyun nods absentmindedly, the
deputy ushers him to the car. “Please get inside the car first, let’s get
you out of here?”
Chapter Eleven

“Sushi, man, that stuff is expensive. You sure you don’t want to come?”
Hongbin petitions, brown puppy eyes of doom doing that little glint
which drives away any rejections Baekhyun has ready up his sleeves,
but maybe not today.

Baekhyun’s mouth fumbles into a small smile. “I’m not an expert by a

long shot, but I’m pretty sure that stuff gives you worms” he says,
blithely. He folds another one of his plain shirts and stacks it in the
drawer of his wardrobe. “It’s okay, man, you and your girlfriend deserve
some downtime to unwind. Besides, dad’s shift ends soon and we kind
of already made plans.”

“You’re still stuffing his guts with rabbit food?” Hongbin gives his friend
a shit-eating grin.

Baekhyun lifts an index in warning, “veg sandwiches,” he corrects, now

slumping on his bed, allowing it to bounce and bring him up and down
with the brunt of his weight. “I’m worried about his cholesterol level.
Dude, am I the only one who acknowledges the sublime dangers of
that?”
Hongbin raises placating hands, “whatever you say.” He says on a
smarmy chuckle, which soon falters and his hands slowly collapse by
his sides, “what about tomorrow?”

Baekhyun’s pupils blow wide at his friend, and his jaw clenches.

Hongbin scoots a little closer to the bed. He’s been standing by the door
the entire time, watching his friend bustle about in his room. He’d been
meaning to bring this up at some point but he isn’t usually very subtle
when it comes to poking at old wounds, so he guessed the best way to
approach this without having Baekhyun recoil from the talk altogether
was by bringing it up in the middle of a talk. “Mr. and Mrs. Wu are flying
here from China,” he informs, “mom heard it from a nurse.”

Baekhyun looks away from his friend, eyes catching sight of a bird flying
by his window, “I’m not going.”

Hongbin's chin meets his chest as he lets loose a shaky breath before
looking back up at Baekhyun, “It’s been four years, Baek, people
already moved on from the rumors, found something new to gossip
about.”

“Lee Hongbin,” Baekhyun’s stare aims his friend’s, “some people just
take more time to move on, I happen to be a walking example.” He
confesses, “Going to a cemetery where no bodies are buried is not
going to numb the pain of loss away,” he interlaces his fingers together
but soon untwines them, “they’re wasting their time.”

Hongbin ducks his head in surrender. “They find consolation.”

“I’m happy for them,” Baekhyun snorts, unable to reel in a chuckle.
“Personally I just can’t bring myself to find solace at the bottom of an
empty casket buried six feet under.”

“Baekhyun” Hongbin says in stiff reproach.

“No, Hongbin” –the other shoots up from his bed– “no” he repeats it in
an attempt to have a reign on the retort that wants to come out as a
shout. “Standing at empty graves is not how I want to honor their
memory. I don’t see a point in going there when all I’d get is the
reproaching looks and a big fat dredge-up of the crap I went through,
and that’s not something I want to live through tomorrow, or any other
day. In fact, I’m pretty much against the whole idea of reliving all of that
when I have the chance to avoid it.”

“Boys?”

Hongbin and Baekhyun whip their heads towards the door, finding the
latter’s father in official garment rooted to the threshold with wrinkles
marring his forehead.

“Something wrong?” he demands, keeping the level of his tone as soft

as he can.

“Nothing, dad.” Baekhyun assures, hurriedly. “Hongbin was just telling

me about his date with his girlfriend” –he switches to look at said man
now, on cue– “who must be waiting, by the way.”
Hongbin holds eye contact with him for a prolonged pause before
nodding and turning away. He greets Mr. Byun and vacates the house in
a huff.

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” His father narrows his
eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

Baekhyun dismisses it with a flick of his wrist, “Just Hongbin being

Hongbin, no big deal.”

“Well, that sounded a lot like a big deal to me.” His father admits, now
leaning on the frame of the door, “you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Baekhyun sighs jadedly and flops on his bed again, “he asked me to go
to the cemetery tomorrow, told him I wasn’t ready.”

The penetrating gaze his father donned tenderizes by now and he lifts
his shoulder off the door frame and walks inside, hands sliding into the
side pockets of his pants. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,
son.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him,” Baekhyun flails a hand,
motioning at the main direction of the door, “and it’s not that I don’t
want to, I’m just not really up for it. I’ll go when I’m ready.”

His father nods in agreement, and then gives a pointed look, “look,
since it’s the anniversary it’s going to be all over the place, and you
know how the townspeople like to gossip” he starts, heedful of his word,
“so if you want out, I can send you somewhere nice. I mean until the
storm dies out.”
Baekhyun’s gaze meets the floor, “nah,” he scrubs his face with a hand
before looking up, “I finally finished my practicum to get home, spend
time with you. I don’t want to hightail it outta town and give people
something to chat about.”

His father nods, eyes peering at the crown of his son’s head since
Baekhyun’s lowered it again, “Sounds fair,” he comments, “and, Baek?”

The said man looks up.

“If you ever want to talk…” He leaves it up to his son to fill in the black
with the hint.

Baekhyun chortles, bemused, “And save me the stagnating hours I get

to spend listening to Ms. Ahreun reciting The Psychopathology of
Everyday Life?” he says, “Not a chance.”

Mr. Brun chuckles but restates what he said, “I mean it, son, I’m here,
always.”

Baekhyun presses his lips on one another and nods, “I know, Dad,
thank you.”

The first time Hongbin asked him to show up at the cemetery and
Baekhyun refused, Hongbin took him in a bone-crushing hug and left it
at that. The second time Hongbin asked and Baekhyun turned his offer
down, Hongbin patted his shoulder. Third time he only smiled ruefully
and nodded.
Now, anniversary or not, Hongbin usually stomps out in a huff.

Baekhyun cannot humor anyone.

It was rough: coming back from the hell he went through, facing his
friend who, just like the man from his nightmares had once said, had
managed to move forward, and then (and this one was the most
grueling of all) giving his statement after that deputy brought him back
to the town’s police station.

Baekhyun found out that while they had been fighting for their lives in
the woods, chased down by mad men and hunted down like animals in
hunting seasons, their families here left no stone unturned. Sent out
rescue teams, resorted to media and contacted private investigators.
Chen’s grandmother even went to oracles in hopes to spot her only
grandchild. Of course, if it worked, Chen would still be alive. Baekhyun
still remembers, in vivid details, finding his butchered body.

Hongbin tried to get him to open up, more than an occasion, nudging
him and patting his back, even operating his trademark puppy-eyes of
doom on him, but Baekhyun couldn’t. He just couldn’t bring himself to
recount what happened after Hongbin left, knowing it’d break the man.
After all, he did leave thinking Sojin had died.

Baekhyun took the year he came back off, spent it relocating from
home to hospital, recuperating.

Most of his wounds and injuries, internal and external, have healed
beautifully. His infections were treated soon and antibiotics worked
wonders on fighting them. His battered face made the most astounding
recovery. The only problem was his back.

It seemed that, yet again, Chanyeol, even in his death, had outplayed
Baekhyun.

The carvings on Baekhyun’s back took too long to be treated as it was,

but Baekhyun found out that the reason his wounds weren’t healing
was because the scalpel Chanyeol had used to cut his skin had been
dipped in either raw onion or garlic juice, making it hard for the platelets
to coagulate, thus resulting in permanent scars that could only be
removed surgically, and that’s something Baekhyun didn’t opt for.

So to this day, Chanyeol’s full name stays engraved on his skin.

A murder, the entire Oh family was murdered while the youngest son,
Park Chanyeol, had been studying abroad, leaving him under the care of
Mingyu. It was never officially stated –the cause of the murder, but
many analysts suspected it had something to do with conspiracy
theories going sideways. Chanyeol returned to his family’s house in
Korea after graduating to set up shop, and it had been sailing smoothly
until a cyclone called Lee Hannah clashed at his door.

After Baekhyun gave his statement, his father went to great lengths to
cover up his son’s name and identity to protect him. The protocol didn’t
deny him that. But the townspeople were becoming even more
troublesome with their meddling so Baekhyun flew back to his
university, escorted by an officer his father requested, to finish his
studies.
It’s probably useless to mention his father’s protectiveness increasing
after Baekhyun made it back to the town. Hongbin was no different
either. Always calling and never failing to leave him text messages on
his phone. It’s also safe to say that after his return, Baekhyun never
trusted easily. As for going beyond the customary greetings, he still has
that listed under never-in-a-million-years.

It wasn’t easy: Ah Reum, his shrink, keeps telling him. Although he

admits so himself, he doesn’t know if it’s really about just that or,
maybe, there’s something else. Actually, there’s always something else.
When he tells her about the nightmares that hunt him still, she says it’s
normal, even him literally screaming himself awake. She says his panic
attacks are the manifestation of his inner fears and doubts and that,
with all things considered, are normal.

When he told her he’d been masturbating to the scarred name on his
back for a while now, she ascribed it to frustration.

And that is what something else is.

Baekhyun doesn’t go to the cemetery since he can’t face the people

who died because of Chanyeol, and he doesn’t go with Hongbin
because he can’t face his best friend when he remembers the nights he
spent, moaning, with his mind filled with Chanyeol’s face and hands.

He hates himself. He loathes it with all the passion Chanyeol couldn’t

burn away, but he can’t stop. He tried but he just couldn’t what with his
mind wandering ways he never thought possible and distracters not
doing as effective job as he predicted they would. It’s unfair to his
friends. It’s unfair to Jooheon who blasted off into specks of ash, and
it’s unfair to Baekhyun who got beheaded or Sojin who died by his
hands.
“Starting day will be on September, but I’m leaving early, probably in
late August, you know, to settle down, commingle.” Baekhyun tells his
father, now taking another bite of his turkey club, eyes flecking about
the interior of the busy restaurant.

“But isn’t it a little early, I mean you only finished your practicum
recently,” his father worries his brows, creasing them over a marred
forehead. “Applying for a job so soon”

“That’s usually how it works, dad.” Baekhyun informs on a thin smile,

“Besides, I think I’m ready to come out of my shell. I can’t do that holed
up in my room.”

His father nods, albeit tentatively. “Did you tell Hongbin about any of
this?”

Baekhyun doesn’t look up when he shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll leave him a

postcard.”

“Baek.” His father heaves out a sigh, dropping his sandwich back on the
dish.

Said man’s eyes lift up, landing on his father’s.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two but I know something is
going on,” he starts, “now I might not understand but I know for a fact
that Hongbin cares about you.” He reminds with the look in his eyes
relenting, “and you need to know that if there are things you can’t tell
me, Hongbin is your exception.”
“I can’t.” Baekhyun deadpans, now forgetting about his food and
leaning back on the backrest of the chair, shoulders deflating, “I can’t
tell him, and I can’t tell you.”

His father perks up, honed expression showing his concern, “What’ you
mean, son?” He asked, “what’ you mean you can’t tell us?”

Baekhyun faces away for a second, curled bottom lip sliding between
rows of teeth, “nothing,” he mumbles before looking back at his father,
“I applied for a school in Yecheon town, dad, they had a spot for a
counselor and I said I’d take it.”

“Yecheon,” his father echoes in dismay before levering up to his feet,

rigid with anger, “so out of the question, son, you’re not going back
there.”

Baekhyun breathes out a bitter sigh, “I didn’t want to say anything

about this job because I knew you’d be against it, and could you please
sit down? You’re making a scene.” After his father sat down with a
muttered ‘you bet your ass I’m against it’, Baekhyun met his eyes.
“Look, dad,” he resumes, “Ms. Ah Reun said that if I wanted to defeat
my demons, I’d had better face them.”

“We’re changing her,” his father grouches.

Baekhyun’s smile is now fond, “no, we’re not.” He tells him,

absentmindedly scrubbing at his spiky stubble with his knuckles, “in
fact, I’d like to end the therapy.”
His father gazes at him searchingly, “what’s with the bright attitude all
of a sudden, Baek, you’re not doing any drugs, are you?”

Baekhyun chortles a laugh between a stutter and a chuckle, “Actually, I

am.” He confesses, “Ms. Reun gets quite the inspiration once her hand
starts scribbling away on a prescription paper.”

Older Byun nods and mirrors his son’s beam, smiley eyes getting
overcome by wrinkles.

“I’ll be fine, dad.” Baekhyun says when the other isn’t expecting it, “It’s
gonna be hard to swallow at first, but hey, I’m a survivor” he survived
worse “I’ve got this.”

“What if you don’t?”

“I’ll make sure to tell you, I promise.” He leans forward now to tap his
father on the shoulder, “Three years at the shooting range won’t be for
nothing. I can take care of myself, pops. Don’t grow grey hair over this.”

***

Yecheon’s luster summer faded and fall rolled over, announcing the
opening of a new year. It’s been two months since Baekhyun moved out
of his parents’ house, but being an early riser and hustling himself out
on errands with a mouth running quicker than his brain, he blended in
easily.
He’s been counseling only a few students, it’s a relatively small town,
smaller than home, and it’s no surprise if the waiting room outside his
office is usually very empty. As long as it doesn’t affect his paycheck,
Baekhyun is content. He is keeping regular contact with his father. Even
Mrs. Lee, Hongbin’s mother, calls in from time to time to check on him.
His neighbors are nice peoples and the landlady only shows up at the
beginning of each month.

There is scarcely a detail in his new lifestyle that he is not content with,
and it’s really the best life Baekhyun can ask for.

Except for the woods overshadowing the town…

It’s been a couple of months now and Baekhyun has been fighting the
urge that resurfaces in the silence of the night to take his steel-black
bike and drive towards those woods. He doesn’t know if ‘facing his
demons’ is the header of his actions, or if it’s the ‘whacking-off’.
Baekhyun isn’t frustrated, not sexually, that is. He went out on a few
dates last year alone, actually with the same person. Kim Taehyung, a
sweet, thoughtful guy who never pushed Baekhyun for more than the
sporadic kisses they shared here and there until Baekhyun gnawed it
down with a ‘sorry, I can’t do this. You’re a great guy but I’m not ready
for this’. Although the guy took his lips in a forceful kiss then to prove
his feelings, it only brought on a nasty panic attack and he found
himself apologizing and eventually acquiescing to Baekhyun’s decision.

October, the epitome of autumn, opens a new chapter, a new day for
new life experiences to be acquired. Okay, maybe not today. It’s Friday
so Baekhyun is lounging at a café, cheek propped on his palm and eyes
looking out the window at his side, taking in the hazy light of the setting
sun.
He vaguely remembers a waitress coming up to refill his cup and then
disappearing behind the counter. He also remembers Hongbin leaving
him a thrashing in the voicemail for not returning any of his calls. He
isn’t sure what makes up his mind when he fishes his phone out, lays it
on the table and stares at it. It’s been months, and although he can’t
bring himself to it, Hongbin has a right to know. He taps at his number
and looks up, gazing out at the far off tree rows before connecting the
call.

“Baek”

Said guy can practically see Hongbin’s tail wagging.

“Hey, buddy.” He greets back, voice steady. “Got your voicemail”

“Yea, about that” –Baekhyun hears the wince– “Didn’t mean to rip into
you, but you weren’t giving me much choice.”

“Dude, I got it. Don’t sweat it.” He assures, taking a small sip of his
coffee, “how’ve ya been? How’s your girlfriend?”

“Good, been well. She says hi.” He tells him after a pregnant pause,
“I’m more worried about you actually. Your dad told me you applied for
a job in Yecheon. ‘Wanted to head your way but my boss’ not giving me
a chance, but dude, what were you thinking?”

“Look, I need to do this.”

“No, you don’t.” Hongbin retorts, vehemently, “please, Baek bro, just, go
for somewhere else. You got accepted there, I’m sure you’ll get
accepted somewhere else.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, realizing in a moment the other can’t see it.
“I’ve already signed a contract, can’t undo that.”

Hongbin exhales noisily, “well, are you okay? I mean it must be weird
hanging around that place after everything. Do you need me to come? I
got so worried when you stopped picking up my calls.”

“Yea, that was mean, sorry.” Baekhyun admits with a small voice, “It’d
be great if I can see you all soon, but it’s better if you don’t come over.
It’s not like we have a good history with this town and coming here is
only gonna cause you pain.” He tells him, frantic with his words, “I need
to do this so I can move on, that doesn’t mean you should do the same,
it’s different.”

“I understand. I do.”

But…

“But why live there? You’d have just gone there a couple ‘ times for
whatever therapy you’re undergoing and be done with it.”

“Hongbin,” Baekhyun clears his throat with a quick swallow, “there are
a few things that I can’t talk about now, and I know this feels like I’m
keeping things from you but you gotta trust me on this.” He pleads,
“Some things are better left unsaid.”
The other is silent for a long time after that and then he speaks, “If
there’s something you’re not telling me to protect me, then I can’t trust
you on this. You already sacrificed one for me, you’re not doing it
again.” He petitions, “So, Baekhyun, please, whatever’s on your mind
just tell me.”

And Baekhyun, against his better judgment, tells him.

Tells him how Sojin was alive when Hongbin left, how he killed her,
‘rammed that knife right into her chest’ and ended her life. He tells him
about the not-hypnotized Park Chanyeol whose real story never made it
to the papers since the police covered everything up with gas explosion
so it wouldn’t wreak havoc among citizens. He tells him about Lee
Hannah, and how he locked her up in the surgery room and left her to
her demise.

And when he was done, Hongbin was a crying mess, wailing Sojin’s
name and cutting off his own sobs with mumbled ‘I’m sorry’.

Baekhyun disconnects the call without a forewarning, not wanting to

hear Hongbin’s miserable keens anymore.

Later that night, Hongbin sends him a text message, simply thanking
him for telling him. Nothing more, and nothing less.

The sun rises the next morning grazing over Baekhyun’s stiff limbs in
peace, which bespeaks another day of chilling cold. He checks his
phone for any new texts or missed calls and finds none. He showers
and changes into his red plaid hoodie, dark jeans and red sneakers. He
heads out to a diner for breakfast. And when the clock hits nine and a
half, Baekhyun rides his bike and drives towards the woods.
He’s had an entirety of four years and a couple of months to think this
over, and despite his doubts and fears, he’s finally decided if he really
wanted an end to his nightmares, he’d better seek the cure inside these
woods. Half an hour later finds him at the road that Deputy picked him
from. He pulls over, once the whir of the engine dies, the silence
overtakes the space. He hears a few birds chirping, branches and
shrubs rustling here and there. And for an overwhelming second where
his memories collide, dizziness almost knocks him off balance but he
holds himself up by the handlebars of the vehicle, eyes squinting in the
open.

Dry leaves crunch up under his boots as he trudges farther into the
woods. A deafening, unsettling silence spreads around, gifting
Baekhyun with a moment’s hesitation but he cuts right through it,
wanting to reach the end of this chapter.

Not too long and he starts hearing the faint burble of water.

He follows it.

He comes upon a river, flowing from bank to bank, so he guesses it’s a

courtesy of yesterday’s sudden rainfall. A bird squeaks somewhere but
the resonance resembles a scream. Baekhyun rotates around with eyes
wide and wary. He walks by the river, head whipping at every ricocheting
sound, until he reaches the small pond the cascades created; the pond
he crouched inside while assured every one of his friends were just a
few yards away, relaxing under the shade of the tree.

So this is the cure?

This is how he will conquer his demons and banish them to the empty
so he can have a good night’s sleep for once?

A twig snaps behind him.

Baekhyun swivels around so fast he is surprised he didn’t snap a joint,

all self-admiration seeps out when he finds a black-haired, scar-faced
and well-built man in a leather jacket and tight jeans carrying an empty
water jug and standing beside a log.

Blood rushes to Baekhyun’s ears, blaring off like a siren. The ground
feels like it’s been wiped from underneath his soles, leaving only a hole
in its wake. The thud of his heart beating vigorously in his ears is loud.
Oh, God, too loud.

Deep, dark eyes, jaded and dull, are looking back at him. Thick brows
are slowly flying up in mild incomprehension.

“Baekhyun?”

Passive retching noises echo across the bathroom walls as Baekhyun,

on his knees, spills the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. His
fists clutch at the rim of the marble thing until blood leaves his
knuckles. He heaves more gags, but eventually they reduce to mere
spasms and shudders.

Baekhyun sags to the wall, face pale and drenched with sweat, fingers
shaking after the exertion.
The memory of meeting the man from his nightmares creeps up on his
again, vivid and detailed.

Park Chanyeol stood there as though someone playing the clichéd

villain had switched the time machine on, and they were back to the day
they’d met for the very first time. The only thing remotely different about
the encounter is the horrifying memories connecting them now, and the
only thing different about the man is the scar on his cheek which
Baekhyun had afflicted.

The man didn’t talk; he only looked Baekhyun’s way and soon averted
his eyes.

Baekhyun’s chest rose up and down, lungs going after every speck of
breath. He could feel every danger sensor in him going off-kilter,
warning him about the psychotic terrors manifesting as a humanoid
being walking his way, but when tried to move, he realized it wasn’t
easy when his limbs had gone numb.

Another loud bird squeaks in the open, startling Baekhyun to his core,
but he remained motionless and completely still as the man treaded
closer with every step, jug in hand, and when he was only a stride’s
length away from Baekhyun that the latter could see the scar as though
through a magnifying glass, he quickly swept past him, the fresh smell
of spruce wafting after him.

Baekhyun’s ears caught the noise of a deep surface getting filled with
burbling water, and he guessed Chanyeol was now filling up the jug.
That was his chance. Chanyeol was busy so he sprinted forward.
Leaving the river and Chanyeol behind, and he ran and ran, sharp twigs
scraping him in his frenzied run.
He didn’t stop until the bike came into view, parked askew by the dirt
road.

He remembers riding his bike but doesn’t remember how he got here.
All flashbacks from the killers’ chase came back to him when he
stepped into his apartment and he scampered towards the bathroom to
rid of the bile.

He opens his bleary eyes and inspects the tiled walls. The pungent
stench of acid makes him grunt. He flushes the toilet and levers up by
supporting himself to the sink. He rinses his mouth and finally leaves
the bathroom.

The rest of the afternoon goes in a flash after Baekhyun plunges on his
bed face-first, falling into a fatigue-induced slumber.

Heavy lids part open and whisky eyes meet the morning light streaming
in from the window. Baekhyun turns on his back and faces the ceiling,
blowing out a full-bodied sigh.

“What the hell was I thinking?” he berates himself.

He knows he risked a lot by going into the woods, but how was he
supposed to know Chanyeol would be there as well? He genuinely
thought Chanyeol died in the fire years ago. So what, the guy leapt out
of the flames in the last second? Crawled out of the debris and been
trudging inside these woods ever since?

Baekhyun scrubs his face with a hand.

Chanyeol was carrying a metal jug. That means he needed a fresh
source of water that he probably usually drinks from. It’s not that far-
fetched, actually. If Chanyeol did survive the fire then he’d become
hunted by the law, and he probably figured that out on his own which is
why he’s skulking in the woods instead. But if he did figure it out, does
that mean Chanyeol’s memories aren’t as wiped as he thought they
were. Man used to act like he had no idea a keyword switched his gears
on the psychosis. In fact, he’d believed the life of the lovable neurologist
who cared about the wellbeing of a complete stranger having a mental
freak-out.

If he has his memories back, does he remember the things he’d done to
people before Baekhyun crossed his path?

Baekhyun grips a fistful of his hair.

Chanyeol remembered his name; he remembered Baekhyun.

And Baekhyun doesn’t know what to make of that.

He spent some nights in the past two years fondling himself at the
memory of Chanyeol’s hands on him, sometimes gentle but other times
rough… the phantom of a touch, just barely there accompanying the
memory –his phone suddenly rings, rousing him from his monologue.

He stares at Hongbin’s ID flashing in the screen of his phone, debating

whether to pick the call or not knowing his friend is only calling for
closure. He told him about the things he spent years keeping buried,
but now that they were in the open, Hongbin would give himself the
liberty to ask, to inquire like it’s a fucking movie premiere he missed.
“’morning,” he mumbles, connecting the call eventually.

“You still in bed?” the other marvels, “dude, it’s eleven.”

“It’s Sunday.” Baekhyun counters.

Surprisingly, Hongbin doesn’t try to coax answer out of him; he doesn’t

even bring up any of the stuff he told him the day. Hongbin only… chats.

Around two in the afternoon, Baekhyun dons his jacket and collects the
keys to his bike, and with a face set in hard lines, he leaves his
apartment.

The drive to the same dirt road doesn’t take him long, and by the time
he reaches the same spot from yesterday, the sky is already veiled by
gloomy clouds. He gets off his vehicle, removes his helmet and hooks it
to the handlebars. He eyes the trees warily and marches ahead,
following the same lane towards the river.

As the bushes clear out from his path, Baekhyun finally sees someone
dressed in leather crouched by the river, a jug in hand. His steps almost
falter halfway, but he wills his legs to move eventually, finally standing
behind the man.

Chanyeol fills up the jug to the brim and finally lifts up. He reels around
and his dark eyes lock on Baekhyun’s.

“What’ you doing here?” he inquires in his voice deep.

The question awakes something in Baekhyun, alertness, he assumes,
and he refocuses.

“Park Chanyeol,” he manages at last, “what the hell is this?”

Those thick brows come down to a deep furrow, “I’d ask you the same
thing.”

Baekhyun gets his legs back under his control and moves a little
forward, “you’re supposed to be dead.”

“Clearly, I’m not.” Chanyeol restates the fact.

“But how?”

Chanyeol attempts to walk past him again, but this voice in the back of
Baekhyun’s mind urges him to act, do something –anything, just get the
man to explain. So as Chanyeol saunters past him, Baekhyun’s hand
shoots out to the man’s elbow, pulling him so their eyes can see each
other. But he doesn’t count on the force with which he pulled the man,
obviously unbalancing the man and causing the jug in his hand to fall
and clank on the ground. The two of them watch as the water spills to
the soil, soaking it.

Chanyeol wrenches his hand from Baekhyun’s hold and crouches down
to pick his jug.

“What the hell happened to you?” Baekhyun grits, his eyes fuming with
unexplainable rage.
Chanyeol stands up again, bringing the jug with him. “This is drinking
water,” he informs.

“I don’t care.” Baekhyun huffs, haughtily.

“I know you don’t.” Chanyeol shrugs.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at the man in raw confusion.

“Go back” he orders, heavy-lidded eyes glaring back at Baekhyun.

Instead of recoiling to the farthest corner across the earth, instead of

getting his bearings together and fleeing, and instead of feeling dread
to his very core, Baekhyun’s entire body heats up.

When he remains silent, Chanyeol returns to the river again.

“You told me you were going back to the fire. Did you eventually change
your mind about dying?” Baekhyun asks, only his profile is facing
Chanyeol.

Chanyeol ignores him and watches with rapt as the water fills his jug.

“What the hell happened after I left, Chanyeol?” Baekhyun bellows, his
words echo off the tree lines.
Chanyeol straightens up to full length again, and this time, he doesn’t
look Baekhyun’s way when he walks away again.

“Is that it?” Baekhyun scoffs after him, “you go from torturing me and
raping me to ignoring me altogether?”

The statement brings Chanyeol to a stop, and the fucking anticipation

that sears though Baekhyun at that is unbelievable. But Chanyeol soon
mutters a brisk “Go home, Baek.” Over his shoulder and walks away
again.

A week, it has been a whole week since he met Chanyeol in the woods.

He’s not rooting for another reunion, God. After he came back home
last Sunday, he had nightmares. It was a miracle he survived that night
without sleeping pills. Only reason why he’s under the shower head
facing the mirror is to reflect.

Last night, Chanyeol came to him in his dream.

He was lying in his bed when Chanyeol walked into the room, same
room he is renting at this building. He was wearing a white dress shirt,
and black trousers. He stomped his way to the bed firmly. The same
footsteps that used to send Baekhyun to his demise back in that
enamel-floored room. He climbed the bed, braced his arms on either
side of Baekhyun’s middle and then leaned forward. Baekhyun looked
up at him, the blank stare in Chanyeol’s eyes setting his alarms off. He
felt his brows twitch in question when Chanyeol only continued to stare
at him, but without a warning, the settings of the room changed. That’s
where Baekhyun should have realized it was a nightmare; it was
supposed to be a nightmare. However, the way Chanyeol had
Baekhyun’s wrists strapped overhead, and his legs parted. The way he
stroked his naked and flushed skin with the touch of a leather whip,
and the way he toyed with Baekhyun’s body afterwards should all have
been indications to a bad dream, but Baekhyun fucking liked it.

He stares horrified at the mirror.

He enjoyed it, and unlike his other dreams, this one felt more real, and
more exhilarating.

The breath leaves his lungs starving, and he cups his mouth in an
attempt to stifle in the anguished whimpers of disgust and fear, fear of
what he might become. He’s always fought the idea. In the dread of the
night, when worry awakes him, he always tried to envision himself as a
better person, especially after what he’d undergone. Now, he was
beginning to fret over the fact that, maybe, this madness is just meant
to be.

As he stands by his bed, short towel on head, he scrolls down his

messages. He finds a couple texts from his family, and from his school,
about some -parent-teacher conference at 5, where they’ll be having
moronic conversations.

Baekhyun was outspoken in his way of stating facts to Chanyeol, and he

has this feeling in his guts that it did something to the man. Besides, all
he said was utter the truth: Chanyeol was going from raping him and
torturing him to ignoring him altogether. How is that a byproduct of an
ordeal they went through together? Chanyeol had been played with, and
Baekhyun and his friends were the victims –of many others. You don’t
ignore each other on the street after something so horrendous like that.
He flings his phone on the nightstand, and the towel on the window sill.
He put on his outdoor garments after eating his breakfast. He steps
outside. The autumnal breeze races to his nostrils. He shudders at its
chilliness and plunges his hands into the side pockets of his leather
jacket. He didn’t take his motorcycle outside today, because he will just
take a stroll in the neighborhood. It’s a peaceful morning, and hopefully,
the fresh air will clear his head from shadows holding him down,
wanting, so badly, to encage his mind.

His converse shoes stomp on fallen, dry leaves. They crunch under his
soles as he meanders his way through the narrow alleys. He passes by
shops whose owners greet him with a wave of their hands. Baekhyun
smiles charmingly and waves back, too.

He doesn’t even realize where his legs have taken him until he finds
himself standing by the woods. Tall, naked trees swaying like giant,
skeleton hands. Their rustle so eerie, and the resultant shudder that
courses through Baekhyun is almost too daunting. He beholds the sight
of rust-colored boles and leaf-strewn ground with wide, sparkly eyes –
like he’s just found the gate to freaking Narnia. However, he knows
that, deep down, only nightmares with pointy tentacles are skulking
beyond.

As though to uncover the novel mystery, Baekhyun steps forward.

He ends up standing by the burbling river, hands still in pockets. He

doesn’t move, and he doesn’t even bother to call out –it might have an
undesired outcome anyway if a wolf hears his noise. He just stands
there, like a ghost succumbing to its sad ending.

Another wind whooshes, moving the tree branches with it. The
susurration echoes across the tree lines like spirits whispering about an
impending occurrence. He hopes it’s a pleasant one, although trudging
into the woods can’t possibly be pleasant when he knows Chanyeol
hunted him here once.

When the clock hit three, Baekhyun looked up from his crouch at the
darkened sky. As he attempts to lever up to his achy legs, a sound of
bushes crackling piqued his attention. He lifts up very slowly with his
head reeled to the direction of the noise. He waits.

A man in a knee-length, black coat, and bleached jeans and combat

boots, holding a jug in a hand, heads Baekhyun’s way. He panics
inwardly at first, because he’s seen that jug a couple of times by now,
he knows to whom it belongs. He just can’t will himself to get over the
fact that Chanyeol still showed up, even after last time’s mishap.

Chanyeol stops a few feet away when he locks eyes with Baekhyun’s,
but soon rolls his eyes. He averts his eyes and attempts to aim the
water. Baekhyun watches with raw awe how Chanyeol, same as last
time, and the time before it, brings up the jug to the cascades and fill it
up with water.

“So,” Baekhyun begins, and he knows it’s the first intimation of a

possibly one-sided conversation. “Going for normal? Is this your apple-
pie life?”

As expected, Chanyeol ignores him.

Baekhyun feels irked at being ignored, and he decides to go for straight-

to-the-point. “Do you remember last thing I said the other day?”
To his surprise, Chanyeol nods. It is carried on in a very slow motion,
like he has neck cramps and nodding would aggravate his pains.

“Are you still going to ignore me, even though you and I went through all
that together?”

Chanyeol remains silent.

Baekhyun nods to himself, prompting it to reign in his anger. “Fine,” he

hissed, “how about you just answer yes or no, then?”

Chanyeol continues to fill up the jug.

“Do you remember what you did to me?”

Chanyeol nods.

Baekhyun’s brow arch up in astonishment, he never imagined Chanyeol

would go along with his request. “Okay,” he clears his throat, “Do you
remember what Hannah did to you?”

Chanyeol nods again.

“So you remember going back into the fire, and not wanting to leave.”

“I do.” Chanyeol finally replies with words.

“Why are you still alive, then?”

“I got out of the house at the last second.” Chanyeol admits, “I guess I
didn’t want to die, after all.”

“You said you deserved it.”

“It doesn’t mean I did.”

Baekhyun furrows at the back of the man’s head, “That makes no

fucking sense, Chanyeol.”

“It does, to me.” The man replies, curtly.

The spirits murmur again as a persistent wind whooshes amongst the

trees.

“Where are you staying now?”

“I cannot tell you that.” Chanyeol shrugged, now finally standing up to

full length.

“Why not…?” Baekhyun demands.

“I don’t want a repeat of what happened four years ago.” Chanyeol
admitted, “I left everything behind, including your memory. I don’t want
to be dragged right back to that.” He slowly turns around. “You, being
here, is bringing up bad memories, and I’m not very fond of that.”

Baekhyun’s furrow morphs into a harsh glare. “That’s rich coming from
you, bastard!” He bellowed, now stepping closer to Chanyeol. “If there’s
someone who has the right to say that, it’s gotta be me! You’re not very
fond of me being here? Well, tough. I’m not going anywhere. I lived
months in hell with you. You toyed with my body, you treated me like
human waste and now you have the fucking gall to make it sound like
it’s my fault?”

“I said you bring back bad memories.” Chanyeol corrects, “And

personally, I’m not fond of that.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Baekhyun concludes.

“Then I guess I should do the honor.” Chanyeol cocks his head.

Baekhyun lifts a hand to stop him mid-step, “you’re not going anywhere,
either.”

Chanyeol stands completely still for a moment, like a bolt of lightning

recharging, only to hit again, fast and deadly. He scrubs his jaw with his
unoccupied hand, and sighs. “What’ you want from me, Baek?” His
voice sounds so darn defeated, it’s hilarious. This guy used to raise
utter fear in Baekhyun with just a stare, for fuck’s sake. “I don’t have
anything to give you. I don’t have money or stocks, I’m broke, and I can’t
even afford a biscuit. I have nothing that you’d want to take away from
me, same way I took your innocence…”
Baekhyun falters at that. Yes, Chanyeol took the most precious thing a
human can have, their innocence. Baekhyun’s eyes start to water as he
submerges within the memories. This man standing before him stole his
everything, and left him nothing but an empty shell, for four, fucking
years. “That’s right, you bastard.” He suddenly groused, “You took
everything away from me, and I can never be the same.”

Chanyeol lowers his head.

Without his consent, Baekhyun’s legs dash to the other man. He latches
at his collar, pulling him closer to his raging breath. “You stole
everything from me. You expect me now to just let it go? To just forget
about, because me, being here, fucking brings stuff up? Are you in your
right mind, or what? I don’t give a damn about your little scary night
dreams. I don’t even care if you’re penniless. I’m going to make you
relive the hell you made me go through, and I’m going to enjoy every
second of it!”

Chanyeol scoffs. For the first time, he actually scoffs. When Baekhyun
crinkled his face in wild confusion, Chanyeol tips his head rearward and
lets out a laugh. Baekhyun’s grip on the coat’s laces tightens, and he
frowns. Chanyeol suddenly cuts off his own laugh.

“This is fucking fantastic!”

Baekhyun’s eyes widen in complete horror. It’s like a déjà-vu: Dark, evil
and sadistic Chanyeol, acting maniacal. His tightened grips loosen up,
and fall, each at a side.
“Listen to me, Baek, and listen carefully.” He starts, “You don’t want to
get yourself involved with me again. I may be in control of myself now,
but that’s not to say a part of me doesn’t relish the thought of skinning
you alive.”

Baekhyun’s lungs race after every waft of breath, hoping it’s not the
last. His face pales so bad the dead have nothing on him. Above all, he
can’t feel the ground underneath his feet.

“Now, that’s a good look on you.” Chanyeol smirks, “what, did you think
you can stroll up here and bark orders at me, are you fucking insane?”

Baekhyun shakes his head in disbelief.

“Look here,” Chanyeol’s expression hardens, “I’m only going to say this
once, I want you to leave and never come back.”

Baekhyun’s knees give out under him, and he falls to the ground. Wide,
unbelieving eyes on the leaves scattered across the earth.

“If you sneak back here, there’s no telling of what I might do to you,
understand?” and without waiting for a reply, that perhaps wasn’t going
to be worded, Chanyeol hugs his jug closer to his abdomen and tramps
away.

A bird chirps happily in the far-off distance, and the dry branches
continue to crackle and crunch. The burbling water flows in a calming
sound, enveloping the low, breathless noises Baekhyun is making.
He is on his four, his eyes on the ground. He digs his nails into the dirt
and drags fistfuls.

He can’t believe it…

He can’t fucking believe it.

He looks between his thighs. He scrutinizes the bulge there –a telltale

sign of his erection. “You have got to be kidding me…!”
Chapter Twelve

After the parent-teacher conference, Baekhyun headed to his place. He

doesn’t remember the nature of the main issue he and the parents of
the students discussed, but he guesses it’s something moronic. Those
talks usually steer from what benefits the students to ‘I keep telling him
to stop fooling around, but he doesn’t want to listen. I don’t know what
to do’, which he knows could be solved with a little beating. Of course,
he doesn’t tell them that, although it’s a great strategy.

He lies there on bed sprawled like a starfish, staring up at the plain

ceiling.

Park Chanyeol remembers everything. He remembers doing those

things to Baekhyun, and he remembers what that bitch lady Hannah did
to him as well. Which, okay, Baekhyun has predicted at some point, but
how in the blue hell did the entire reunion end up with him having a
frigging hard-on.

It’d have made a little sense if what connected him with Chanyeol were
affectionate sentiments reignited by the reunion, but the man…
Baekhyun clutches at his hair at the memory. What they had wasn’t
innocent, it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t something to be had in the first
place. So it doesn’t make sense that he got hard hearing Chanyeol
relishing the thought of skinning him alive. So… what, is he a freaking
masochist now? Did those times Chanyeol tortured him result in some
fucked-up tendency to derive sexual gratification from pain and
humiliation?

Did he develop Stockholm syndrome, and does he sympathize with his

captor now? –he’s never found anything funnier. He feels nothing
towards Chanyeol, so it’s safe to say he isn’t sympathizing with that
bastard who ruined his life. Even during captivity, Baekhyun never felt
the need to rely on his captive for survival; he always hated the son of a
bitch.

This is why he can’t make head or tail of what happened at the last
second, after Chanyeol left him to his own devices. Why did he get erect
back at the woods?

Buzz.

Buzz, buzz.

Baekhyun’s eyes shoot open, hazel, whisky brown eyes catching the
morning light. He hurls a hand to the clock to shut off the alarm, and
the other scratches his chest. He sits up, bed hair sticking out to
different directions.

It’s Saturday, and he delights in the idea of the whole day off. He gets to
sleep in, have late breakfast and call it lunch, just for the heck of it. He
gets to leave the bed unmade, and the curtains of the windows drawn.
Nobody gives him lip for any of that, and he doesn’t feel bad about it.
Half past two in the afternoon finds Baekhyun inside the woods again,
stalling by the river bank with his hands in his pockets. He scrapes at
some pebble with the sole of his converse shoe, and finally kicks it into
the water. He noticed how it suddenly dropped cold, but he doesn’t
think that’s enough to call it quit. He knows Chanyeol will come here
again, with that stupid jug. He knows Chanyeol will glare at him,
perhaps give him the hairy eye-roll, but he won’t skin him alive.

If Chanyeol was saying the truth, he would have skinned him alive the
day Baekhyun first showed up there.

He knows the spell had been broken that day at Hannah’s office right
before the fire. There’s no way Chanyeol will fall off the wagon now that
his sanity has been put on a leash. Baekhyun is risking a lot by coming
here despite Chanyeol’s warning, or threat, but he feels like if he
doesn’t, he’ll be the one to lose his mind.

When his watch showed three fifteen, the whooshing of the wind
became more violent, with more howling involved. He decides to wait
more, just a little bit more and then he’ll leave.

Those bushes crackle again, the signal of Chanyeol’s arrival. Baekhyun

whips towards the source of the noise, and waits. Chanyeol slowly
emerges from between the bushes and the naked branches, dressed in
the same clothes from the previous day. This time, instead of the usual
jug, he’s carrying a 2.5 gallon plastic, white jug. He glares at Baekhyun
when their eyes meet, and he gives a very hairy eye-roll, just like
Baekhyun predicted.

“I thought you’d stand me up.” Baekhyun snorts, humorlessly.

Chanyeol walks past him to fill up the plastic jug. “Go home.”

“Or what, you’ll threaten me to death?” Baekhyun’s voice croaks, “I

know you can’t hurt me, Chanyeol. You might as well drop the act.”

Chanyeol leaves the bottle under the cascades and spins around to
face him. He scowls. “Oh, let me guess, you’re here to make me relive
the hell I made you go through.”

Baekhyun only gives a crooked smile.

“And how’s that working out for you?” Chanyeol cocks his head, like a
cheeky brat. “I don’t see your toolbox, Baekhyun, going for the Spanish
Donkey there, you fucking brat, or maybe something more poetic like
The Pear of Anguish? What’s your brilliant plan, huh?”

Baekhyun knows that they both know he’ll never be able to lift a
weapon against someone if they don’t deserve it. Although, he thinks
Chanyeol deserved it, it was before the magic word was revealed. It
wouldn’t be fair to this man if Baekhyun did set his plan on motion:
torturing the man who tortured him under the influence of hypnosis.
How’s that for more credits in his career.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with you.” Chanyeol finally admits

on a defeated sigh.

Baekhyun clenches his fists by his sides.

“Please,” Chanyeol breathes out, “just leave me the hell alone. I’m not
hurting anyone, and I’m not hurting you anymore, so just leave.”

Wordlessly, Baekhyun drops his chin to his chest.

Chanyeol lifts the plastic jug and ambles past Baekhyun. When he
almost reached the bushes, Baekhyun hollered aloud. “I’m not going
anywhere, you hear me, you bastard?”

Chanyeol comes to a standstill, and the water within the cap-less bottle
sloshes and spills to the ground. “Suit yourself.” He says, and walks
away again.

Baekhyun thought of following Chanyeol to whatever hellhole he usually

crawls of. He thought of busting the man’s hiding spot, so he wouldn’t
have a safety zone to pull back to. Eventually, he decided not to.
Chanyeol said he had nothing to lose, and grating on the nerves of a
man who has nothing to lose is risky, and not to mention reckless. In
the past, he wouldn’t have cared, but he has a job now, and he has to
think about his family as well.

Before he knew it, the clock hit seven. Angry, charcoal clouds hang low
in the sky like suffocating soot. The damp-smelling air brisked up its
pace, shaking the giant dry tree branches like a meadow of dandelions.
Baekhyun looks up, a drop of rain lands on his cheek, and he knows he
can’t postpone the impending downpour. The sky unleashes a torrent
that exhibits no sign of stopping soon, and the water that was calmly
burbling in the river, rages in its full glory.

Baekhyun scurries to the trunk of a skinny tree, thinking that if he takes

cover there, the storm will pass by and ignore his existence. He doesn’t
count on the jugged flashes of lightning cracking the grey sky. Aside
from the fear, Baekhyun can’t resist the excitement of being the only
one seeing this, and living it. Of course, any other person with a normal
brain would be home, wrapped in a warm blanket and drinking hot
chocolate, but he’s not exactly normal. After the lightning strike,
Baekhyun leaves the temporary sanctuary he found at the bole of the
tree and strides foreword. He is actually surrounded by trees, and if one
of them was to fall on him, he’d have no one to blame but himself.

“What’ you doing?” The velvety, deep voice asks, and Baekhyun
stumbles in his attempt to turn, finding Chanyeol standing by the
bushes with a lantern in hand.

They hold eye contact even through the wind.

“I missed my chance to go back.” Baekhyun hollers, hoping his voice

will soar above the howling of the wind.

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, and motions with his head. Baekhyun’s brows
twitch in confusion before he deciphers the gesture. He watches as
Chanyeol traces back his trail beyond those bushes, and for the first
time, Baekhyun will uncover the mystery that resides there.

He thrusts his hands into the side pockets of his jacket, and follows
Chanyeol.

They meander their way through the storm for a few minutes before
Baekhyun sees the familiar cabin just ahead. He freezes to the spot,
and he knows the cold has nothing to do with it.
He remembers that cabin, and he remembers trudging to it in a full-
moon night with Chanyeol hunting him. He remembers the pain and
fatigue he was enduring that night while praying for a miracle to
happen. Eventually, it did. Although he got dragged back to the cell, he
made it out. This is what he should focus on: he made it out.

Chanyeol bounds up the couples of stairs at the porch right to the front
door, he opens it and skids inside. Baekhyun takes a deep breath in
and lets it out, shakes his head and finally follows Chanyeol’s suit.

Baekhyun shuts the door in the face of the howling wind, and welcomes
the silence and the dim light that follow. From his hunch by the closed
front door, he scans the interior of the infamous cabin.

There’s a worn armchair by the window, with a mountain of books piled

at its foot. A wooden table in the middle (on top of which Chanyeol
places the lantern) adjoined to two wooden chairs. He guesses that’s
where Chanyeol eats his meals. There’s a counter of logs bundled
together providing a ledge upon which to display all sorts of lined clay
and wooden utensils and cutlery. A single, tatty bed nestled on the
opposite corner, a dark brown cabinet next to it.

He whips his head to the noise of crackling and finds Chanyeol by the
stone-structured fireplace, prodding the fire with an iron poker.

“Shouldn’t you open the window first?” He wonders aloud.

“Be useful.” Chanyeol tells him.

Baekhyun clicks his lips in distaste, slips out of his shoes and aims the
window to open it a little. “This is where you’ve been staying the past
four years?”

Chanyeol flings a couple of axed logs into the fire and sits up. He walks
back to the 2.5 plastic jug he placed by the door. Baekhyun rolls his
chin, annoyed at being ignored. Chanyeol then takes the jug in his hand
and heads to a closed door, he opens it, and Baekhyun catches sight of
the bathroom, and all the happenings of that night race to him.

[“Open up, I’m kinda itching to see you.”]

[“You carved your name on my back!” “Yeah, did you like it?”]

Baekhyun’s pulse raves inside his ears, threatening to make his head
explode. He clutches at his chest and stumbles rearward. He pants in
shallow, uneven breathes.

[“Your life is mine, you bastard. It’s the final rule. You have no right to
end your life without my permission. If you do something like this again,
I’ll make sure to bring you back and hurt you to the point you’re gonna
want to die again, but you won’t, ‘cause I won’t let you.”]

Baekhyun scurries to the front door, yanks it open and steps outside, a
hand on his mouth. He scrambles down the set of steps and lands on
the wet ground on four. He retches, vomiting his breakfast all over the
small puddles.

It was a mistake to come here. He shouldn’t have followed Chanyeol so

readily to the swamp of nightmarish reminders. He should have left the
minute Chanyeol told him to go home. God, this is too much. He was
going to kill himself in the bathroom of this cabin. He was going to give
up. Heck, he even managed to send himself unconscious, and half
hoped his tongue would block his airway.

He hears the door of the cabin creaks, and he knows Chanyeol is

standing there, watching his miserable state. He always hated the
hopelessness Chanyeol planted in him, the fear and the despair. He
always hated feeling his self-loathing reaching the brim and overflowing.

Now, it’s like it’s happening all over again: him yielding to his shadows,
and Chanyeol watching him being weak.

“Leave me alone!” He manages to holler, but soon retches again.

The door creaks again after a minute.

The rain doesn’t fucking let up as Baekhyun remains on his four,

wallowing in self-pity. He feels the joints in his back starting to protest,
aching and pulling. There’s nothing to expel from his stomach so he
levers up to his feet, wobbling. He seriously considers going back to his
apartment, storm can go to hell. He examines the tall trees swaying
under the brunt of the wind’s force, and the rain-full currents slapping
him tirelessly. Then, a flash of lightening zaps again, illuminating
everything like glaring headlights. And it’s soon followed by a clap of
thunder. Baekhyun knows the risks of being outside in a storm like this,
let alone walk under it. He collects himself and turns around, when he
walked the set of steps, he found a clay cup of water on the large
handrail of the porch’s railing.
Baekhyun’s shoulders sag and his former fighting spirit dissipates to
melancholy and depression.

He walks inside the cabin again, cup in hand. He finds Chanyeol by the
counter, rummaging around for something. Baekhyun trudges to the
table and sits on the chair. He crosses his arms on the table and rests
his head on them. He watches keenly how Chanyeol takes two wooden
bowls and a plate.

Chanyeol dashes to the fireplace and lifts the four sardine skewers he
must have placed there when Baekhyun ran outside. He brings them to
the counter and places them on the plate. He also takes out a copper
stockpot that has probably been through the two world wars, and puts it
on the counter. He uses a wooden ladle to scoop rice from the pot and
pour it in the bowls. He sets everything on a rustic tray with spoons to
go with, and brings it to the table Baekhyun is currently sitting at.

“Wash up first.” He tells Baekhyun, now fanning down on the other

chair.

Baekhyun nuzzles his arms, and soon feels a shudder running through
him at the dampness of his jacket sleeves. He sits up, scrubs a hand
over his face and groans.

“I told you to leave me alone, didn’t I?” He scowls at Chanyeol.

Chanyeol’s empty stare doesn’t change as he picks his share of two fish
skewers, and the bowl of rice. He picks his spoon and stabs it into the
rice.
Baekhyun eyes his share of the food, his upset stomach complains
again. He groans and drinks more of the water Chanyeol brought him
earlier. Chanyeol is eating his food like hellhounds are at his tail.
Watching him eat with such a big appetite makes Baekhyun hungry. He
is hungry, but he knows the moment he’ll eat, he will get sick again, and
that’s the worst part of the whole process. He perks up, though, when
Chanyeol pushes his chair to the back, making it squeak and startle
Baekhyun.

Chanyeol heads back to the counter again, which he uses as the

kitchen. He delves into the holes beneath, finally coming out with a
small glass container. He comes back to the table, slams the container
next to Baekhyun’s meal until the cutlery and the lantern shake.

“It's honey.” He said, dropping on his chair to eat again, “Eat a spoon of
that to feel better.”

“Still playing doctor?” Baekhyun scoffs.

To his surprise, Chanyeol actually pales and his shoulders flinch. His
hand that was aiming to lift his spoon stops mid-air, and his eyes widen.

Baekhyun, for a stupid second, wanted to take it back. It was childish

and uncalled for, especially if all Chanyeol did was offer treatment for
his stomachache. However, the bitter tang of his vomit is still fresh in
the back of his throat, and he blames Chanyeol for it. So what’s so nuts
about calling a reprisal?

Chanyeol nibbles at his bottom pink lip for a moment, glistered with the
oil of sardine. He blinks sporadically before eventually jabbing the
spoon into the rice again. He doesn’t stop until there’s no scrapes left.
He lifts his bowl and spoon and skewers, and heads to the front door.

Soon after Chanyeol walks out, Baekhyun hears clinking and cluttering,
and he assumes Chanyeol is washing the tools. He seizes the moment
of the man’s absence to drool over the delicious-smelling grilled
sardine. He gets a throwback to the family BBQs during sunshine
summer afternoons, Styrofoam cups and plates filling up the long,
narrow table, and gleeful squeaks of children soaring in the backyard.
All of it now encroached in darkness and despair that just doesn’t seem
to want to leave him the fuck alone.

He pushes the plate away and leans back on the headrest of the chair,
eying the logs forming the ceiling. He inhales and exhales, chest rising
and falling.

Chanyeol treads back inside, cutting off the howls of the wind by the
slam of the door, startling Baekhyun again. He pays no heed to the
vigorous jolt taking over the intruder’s body because of him, and kicks
off his boots and carries on walking to the armchair by the window. He
takes off his coat, hangs it on the handle of the window, and then he
sits on the armchair, a hand stretching to peck out a book from the pile.

There’s a small voice deep within Baekhyun’s head, screaming, craving

to be heard. He tries to listen to it, see its purpose. But all it gives him
are flashbacks of Chanyeol fucking him rough and deep. He lets out a
strange small noise and drops his face on his hands. This is absolutely
the worst! He isn’t getting hard again, especially not in front of this guy.

“Lose the jacket,” Chanyeol suddenly demands.

Baekhyun’s entire body freezes. All his neurons rewire back to the state
he was in back in that cell. How he’d crumble with just an order from
Chanyeol, and usually capitulate to his desires. Now, he wants him to
strip? Don’t fucking joke about it, Baekhyun didn’t survive months of
hell to only fall back in the same rut. He is stronger now, although
people can argue about his mental health, but physically, he can take
down a man the size of Chanyeol.

He doesn’t lift his head when he says “Touch me and I’ll kill you.”

Chanyeol keeps silent for a beat before he chuckles, “don’t flatter

yourself, asshole.” He said, “I was just being thoughtful. I don’t give a
damn if you catch a cold.”

So he was being thoughtful?

Baekhyun slowly starts to feel his cheeks growing hot, “Keep your
concern to yourself.” he huffs, “I’m not getting undressed in front of
you.”

“I’m not vouching for it to happen.” Chanyeol drawls, now turning the
page of the book he’s reading.

“Sounds inconceivable,” he scoffs.

Chanyeol propels his index on the page he’s reading and closes the
book. He reels his head to Baekhyun and repositions himself on the
armchair that creaks under his weight. “You seem to misunderstand
something, Baekhyun.” He starts, “The ‘psycho’ me who used to cut
through your flesh may have been fascinated by you,” he said, “but I
don’t give a shit about you. And I’m certainly not fascinated by you to
want to see you unclothed.”

Baekhyun’s brows twitch at that.

“So stop thinking too highly of yourself, okay?” he advises, “You’re not
that important to me as you may think.”

Baekhyun’s lips part, revealing his teeth. He sneers into his hands, and
soon barks a laugh. He lifts his face off his palms and faces Chanyeol’s
blank stare. “You son of a bitch,” he starts, his eyes glowing in the dull
lamplight, “you sick son of a bitch.”

“Why,” Chanyeol asks, “because I don’t care about you anymore?” he

demands, firmly.

Baekhyun keeps that half smirk plastered on, despite the rage boiling
inside him.

“I don’t.” Chanyeol asserts on a curt shrug before reopening the book

again to read it.

Baekhyun stares at the man’s profile, a hand clutching at the edge of

the table until the color leaves his knuckles. He gulps the lump lodged
in his throat, and sighs stiffly.

The sound of fire crackling and the wind whooshing outside carries on
without a rest. The storm outside doesn’t get worse, but it doesn’t go
away either. From time to time, Baekhyun hears the rustling of papers
being turned, but other than that, the place is dead silent. He shoves
the chair backward when he attempts to stand, first movement he’s
proceeded to execute in hours. He saunters lethargically to the
bathroom and locks himself in.

The creak of the door is so ominous that Chanyeol lifts his eyes off that
page, scrutinizing the door Baekhyun’s just closed. He puts the book
aside and goes to poke the sheen embers, so the fire wouldn’t go out.
Moments later, something inside the bathroom makes a small thud.
Chanyeol pivots his body to the closed door, and knocks.

“Are you still alive in there?” He asks, eyebrows slowly furrowing.

Baekhyun doesn’t reply immediately, but he does make another noise

inside.

“What do I make of that?” Chanyeol wonders, aloud.

“I’m okay,” Baekhyun grumbles, “just let me be.”

Chanyeol remains by the door for a few more beats before returning to
his armchair.

“This is bad,” Baekhyun moans with his arms wrapped around his
stomach.

He knew reliving the trauma could cause him discomfort, and a little
nausea, it’s understandable. This, however, is beyond painful. There is
nothing to expel from his stomach, and he already emptied his bowels
after waking up this morning. If he retches again, he is certain he’ll end
up throwing up his lungs. His abdominal area is in severe pain that his
face is starting to turn green, and his stomach keeps somersaulting, he
is also dizzy and doesn’t know how to pull off the flames eating his body
from within.

“This is so bad.”

He remains completely still with most of his weight reclining on the sink,
afraid to knock off more than a shave brush this time. One word of
complaint from him and Chanyeol will be there to offer help, or will he?

The bastard came clean about his feeling towards Baekhyun, the guy he
raped in different positions. He didn’t even bat an eye talking about how
caring about Baekhyun isn’t who he is anymore, so who’s to say his cry
for help will go attended to. God, he should feel happy and light after
the revelation, but this darkness twisting inside his chest and head,
weaving conspiratorial plots…

He doesn’t know anymore.

When he eyes his reflection in the mirror, the copious amount of sweat
over his pasty complexion senes him reeling down with worry and fear.
He retches onto the floor, praying for relief–

“Take deep breaths, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol cuts off his chain of

thoughts.

Baekhyun groans in response.

“You need to activate your parasympathetic nervous system,” his voice
creeps through the slits in the door, disembodied. “You aren’t going to
make yourself feel better if you worsen your anxiety.”

Whose fault is that, Baekhyun wonders.

“Open the door,” He suddenly orders, “I can help.”

“Scram, Park Chanyeol.” Baekhyun grouses. Pain stabs his abdominal

section and he folds in on himself, nursing his middle with a moan.

Chanyeol speaks after a pause, “Take a deep breath in, and then let it
out.” He instructs. “Repeat the process over and over until your
stomach settles down.”

Against himself, Baekhyun follows the instruction. After a few minutes,

the pain does not subside.

“Baekhyun, you really need to open the door for me to examine you.”
There’s plea in his voice, it’s hilarious.

“What,” Baekhyun snorts, his bleary eyes sinking under his lids only to
refocus again. “You suddenly care?”

“I can’t ignore you if you’re hurling your guts in my bathroom.”

“Don’t worry, you jackass.” Baekhyun said on a barely stifled whimper,

“Nothing’s coming out.”
“All the more reason to let me examine you,” Chanyeol insists, “Look,
severe abdominal pain is usually a sign of bad news. I know you don’t
want me near you, and I don’t want to be near you either. But don’t
place your health in jeopardy at a time like this, okay, especially if I can
help.”

The lock clicks and the door slides open. Chanyeol is holding the lantern
in his hand, and his eyes roam the narrow room to spot Baekhyun. He
finds him slumped on the floor with his arms wrapped around his
middle, shivering and pale. He crouches down very slowly, placing the
lantern gently on the floor.

“Hey,” he coaxes as though willing a cat to tap his palm, “You look
pretty done in.”

“Whoa, I’m impressed you could tell all that with just a glance.”
Baekhyun sneers, but soon grimaces as another stab of pain pierces
him.

“Come on” Chanyeol skids closer to him, “let’s take you out of here.”

Baekhyun allows the man to manhandle him back to the seat of the
table. He sits him down and brings him another cup of water.

“First things first,” Chanyeol begins, “take off your clothes. I’ll get you a
new set ready.”

Baekhyun glowers fiercely at the man.

“You want to get better or not?” Chanyeol finally frets.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and faces elsewhere. He hears the rustling
when Chanyeol delves into the drawers of his cabinets, and then he
brings the new set of clothes to Baekhyun.

“I won’t look.” He promises, “Just change into these, and hurry.”

Baekhyun doesn’t move until Chanyeol goes back to his armchair, eyes
on the window. He starts taking the jacket off, and since it’s wet, it
weighs more than it should. He takes off his t-shirt next, and when it
goes past his head, he groans. By the time he reaches his belt loop, he
is breathless.

Chanyeol finally has enough. He sighs wearily and lifts off the armchair.
“What’s the use of changing into dry clothes if you’re going to be this
slow?”

“You said you wouldn’t look!” Baekhyun crouches, almond-shaped eyes

widening in both embarrassment and panic.

“I did.” Chanyeol agrees, now standing a stride-length away from the

other. “But you were taking awfully long to strip.”

“That sounds vaguely sexual,” Baekhyun huffs.

“Here,” Chanyeol pulls Baekhyun by the belt loop, “I’ll lend a hand.”
He didn’t mean to. Baekhyun’s hand didn’t mean to smack Chanyeol’s
face. He didn’t realize what’s just transpired until the stinging in his
hand doubled. He gapes at Chanyeol’s face, a cheek redder than the
other. “T-told you not to touch me,” he mutters through gritted teeth,
“You had it coming.”

Chanyeol’s eyes rise up, catching Baekhyun’s. “That was uncalled for.”

Baekhyun shudders, his pains going ignored. As he sees the cold stare
in Chanyeol’s eyes hardening, he realizes that, bit by bit, his cock starts
to react. He snatches the jacket from the backrest of the chair to cover
his crotch.

“You’re troublesome.” Chanyeol simply states, “Change into these and

go to bed.”

Baekhyun lowers his head and Chanyeol walks to the kitchen. He seizes
the man’s distraction to take his pants off, hating how his cock springs
free from its nest. Eventually, he manages to change into the set of
clothes Chanyeol prepared for him: grey sweats. He wobbles his way to
the bed before sprawling on it. Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to do as
the vigorous shake aggravated his stomach pain. He turns on his side
and folds himself into a ball, “this is the absolute worst.”

“You’re telling me.” Chanyeol comments, returns with a pack of bland

crackers, and more water. “I prepared some ginger ale, but it needs to
heat up on the fire for a bit.”

Baekhyun sits up at last after a few grueling attempts, he eyes the

saltine. “Thought you said you couldn’t even afford a biscuit.”
“This type of bland food won’t irritate your stomach,” Chanyeol justifies,
“now eat it, and shut up.”

Baekhyun eats it without another complaint.

Chanyeol goes back to boiling the ingredients inside a small saucepan,

and the scent of ginger soon wafts in the cold air. A few minutes later,
he lifts it off the fire and pours the content into a cup. He returns to
Baekhyun’s bedside, handing him the cup. “Drink all of it.”

Baekhyun takes the cup from him, and sips the ginger ale.

“You need to rest now.” Chanyeol instructs, taking the now-empty cup
from the other man, “sleep off the fever if you want it to break sooner.”

Baekhyun’s incredulous stare lingers on Chanyeol’s.

“What?” Chanyeol bites out.

Baekhyun shrugs a shoulder and sinks back into the pillow, “you’re right
about the resting part,” he says on a sigh, his eyes slowly closing before
he murmurs “I’m so tired…”

Chanyeol stands by the bed, blank eyes on Baekhyun’s sleeping face.

This is the guy his former psycho self tortured and raped for months?
This is the guy his heart ached for whenever the memories struck, this
spoiled, overbearing and oversensitive guy?

He wants to laugh. Heck, he wants to wake Baekhyun up so they can

both crack jokes about the entire setup. This world is a big fucking joke,
and he’s always believed in that. It’s probably why Hannah took
advantage of it and made his twisted thoughts a reality. He tortured this
guy, and ruined his youth. He knows he can’t judge his character, if
there’s something fucked up, it’s on him.

He rakes a hand through the long strands of his hair.

Baekhyun falling terribly sick at a mere memory is not a good sign. At

this rate, he won’t have a chance to at least atone. When Chanyeol
goes to sleep, he sees Baekhyun in his dreams. It’s been four years
now, and the occurrence still happens. He is always either torturing or
raping Baekhyun in those dreams, and no matter how much he fights it,
he always succumbs to that dark side. He knows that, even though he’s
no longer acting under the influence of hypnosis, there is still darkness
inside him. He guesses everybody does, it’s a philosophical question of
the human nature. However, that is not the issue here. Chanyeol feels a
part of him, buried inside, always hankering for release, and always
calling out to Baekhyun.

Now, the bastard came back to make the work of years crumble.

All Chanyeol wanted was to be left alone. It’s true he skipped the fire
four years ago, but he didn’t wish for that life anymore. He doesn’t wish
to be under the spotlight again, and he certainly doesn’t wish for a
repeat of those years. Baekhyun being here raises all risks of that
happening. This bastard, coming back so readily, acting like he fucking
knows what he’s getting himself into…
Baekhyun groans faintly in his sleep.

Because of stupid anxiety, yes, he got this bad because of fear and
anxiety, and built-up stress which he didn’t know how to handle. Now,
his body is reacting badly, and Chanyeol is stuck with nursing him back
to health.

He shakes his head.

Stepping closer to the bed, he pulls the cover higher and flings it over
Baekhyun’s shivering body –then he hears that darkness within fucking
drawling…

Delicious moans of pain! The image of this shivering, hopeless man,

moaning beneath him, spread out and rammed into.

Chanyeol recoils to the back, horror seizing him. “This isn’t fucking
happening.”
Chapter Thirteen

Song: Broken Crown - Mumford and Sons

When Baekhyun’s eyes flutter open, the dim light tells him it’s still night
time. He grunts trying to sit up. “W-water…” But he finds nobody inside
the cabin. He swivels his head in all directions, but Chanyeol isn’t
inside. “Chanyeol?”

A wave of dizziness hits him like a sucker punch, and he grunts again.
He knows it isn’t the time to be incapacitated by a damn fever if he’s by
himself and defenseless. He removes the blanket off him, and swings
his legs outside the bed. He immediately shivers when his soles touch
the floor. He supports himself on the headboard of the bed to stand up,
realizing it’s not the brightest move of his yet. The dizziness intensifies
to the point of being painful. He braces himself, and steps forward
towards the bathroom. He opens it, but nobody is there. His eyes catch
spider-web cracks on the mirror, splattered in crimson.

“The hell happened in here?”

He walks away from the bathroom to the front door, and by the time he
reaches the said door, he is panting like he’s just ended a NASCAR race
on his feet. His shaky hand reaches for the door handle, but someone
opens it from the outside. Baekhyun stills when his eyes lock with
Chanyeol’s.

“What’ you doing outside bed?” Chanyeol berates.

“I-I woke up” Baekhyun mumbles with his cheeks flushed, “you weren’t
there… I…” he trails off, hoping the man will be able to fill in the blank.

So he panicked.

Chanyeol scrubs his jaw, and rolls his eyes. “Even if,” he starts, “you
shouldn’t have left the bed, especially if you’re this sweaty.”

Baekhyun crinkles his face in distaste. “Nobody begged you to nurse

me back to health, okay? I certainly didn’t!” he seethes, breathlessly.

“You’re in my place, acting sick.” Chanyeol counters, “Of course I’m

compelled to!”

“Don’t!” Baekhyun shouts, and the ringing in his ears went off. He
closes his eyes and groans.

“You’re gonna pass out.” Chanyeol pinpoints.

“You think I find this funny?” Baekhyun cracks his eyes open, glassy
from fever and fatigue. “I wished to God you never existed, this isn’t
easy for me!”
Chanyeol stares impassively into Baekhyun’s bleary eyes, “I wish you
died four years ago.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widen, and this pang in his chest drilling a hole, it
expands more and more. Without his consent, his tears overflow like a
torrent. He shakes his head, and doesn’t even fight to hide his sobs
anymore.

It’s mutual, what the hell did he expect, Chanyeol getting on his knees
to ask for his forgiveness…?

Baekhyun lived with the man, he saw how he communicates. He never

thought of himself under anyone, he was always above all. He was a
sadist who relished the sorry state of others, especially Baekhyun’s.
This is no different from what the man used to be like. Changing
scenery doesn’t change this man’s rotten personality.

“Cruel.” It comes out as an anguished sob before Baekhyun reigns it in.

Chanyeol licks his lips. “Now go back to bed.”

Baekhyun runs trembling fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, and

wills himself to calm his uneven breathing. “I’m leaving.” He mutters,
faintly. “I feel better now, so I’ll just scram.”

“Don’t spout nonsense, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol grumbles, shoulders

sagging “you’re delirious from the fever, if you don’t rest enough, you’ll
pass out.”
Baekhyun pins the man with a hard glare. “You’re a piece of work,
didn’t you know?”

“Could say the same about you,” Chanyeol retorts.

Baekhyun wobbles back to the table, pecking out his clothes.

“What’ you doing?” Chanyeol demands, “didn’t you just hear me?”

Baekhyun ignores him. The ringing in his ears becomes unbearable,

and he tries to hold on. He clutches at the backrest of the chair, fighting
the queasiness. He tries to word his discomfort, but it comes out
mumbled and tired.

“I swear, you’re a fucking eyesore.” Chanyeol rumbles before stepping

right into Baekhyun’s personal space.

Baekhyun’s alarms go off, warning him about everything: his body that
isn’t functioning, nor cooperating right. Chanyeol on him again, planning
to do God knows what, and, here he is, feeling miserable for himself.

Suddenly, he feels his body being lifted off the ground by marble arms.
The room of logs swims in his vision, and he finds no better alternative
but to close his eyes. The last thing his mind registers is the scent of
earth and wood coating Chanyeol’s body, and bit by bit, his heavy head
fans backward on the nook of those strong arms.

The next morning dawns, bright and cold, Baekhyun groans awake. He
gives his eyes a second to adjust, and then everything comes back to
him: the storm, the pain, the cabin and Chanyeol tending to him. God,
he wants to wipe himself off the face of the earth. Chanyeol carried him
bridal style to bed, how is Baekhyun supposed to let himself live it
down.

He doesn’t remember much of what happened after he kicked his

consciousness out of the window, but he knows Chanyeol stayed far
away from his vicinity. He is actually kind of grateful for that.

He sits up, taking in the empty cabin. He catches sight of a cloth on the
table and guesses that’s his breakfast underneath, tucked and covered.
He trudges towards the bathroom, expecting to see the broken mirror
on which Chanyeol crafted a spider web last night, but he doesn’t. He
doesn’t even understand why Chanyeol punched the damn thing, if he
was against Baekhyun hogging the bed, he’d have said so. Not that
Baekhyun would have given it to him anyway. This actually makes him
dredge up the kind of monologue going though Chanyeol’s mind, or
have been ever since Baekhyun popped up on him near the river bank.

For him, he hasn’t stopped thinking about Chanyeol ever since their
reunion. Even now, God damn, all he thinks about is Chanyeol. And he’s
expected to get his things and scram? There’s no chance in hell he
would. He is here and he might as well rebuild himself using the pile of
trauma and nightmare source going as far as staying outside the cabin
to ignore him.

There’s a note on the table that says (don’t come back). Baekhyun lifts
it up, scrutinizes it and then crunches it into a ball.

He will come back.

Or so he said, and that was two weeks ago.

Ever since he came back from the cabin and the woods and the
nightmares, Baekhyun wasn’t able to step foot into all of that again. He
admits going to the entry way of the woods a few times, but never
having enough balls to actually venture inside. He doesn’t blame his
nightmares or Chanyeol, for that matter, which is hilarious, because he
should. Chanyeol made him relive the nightmares, and that eventually
caused him physical, unbelievable pain. It’d have been certifiable if fear
was the thing holding him back, but no. His body and mind work
differently than that and that’s something he’s come to realize,
unfortunately, a bit late.

Soon after getting back to his apartment, two days later maybe, his
nightmares started to manifest into something he’d long since thought
was over. Those nights he’d spent, moaning, with his mind filled with
thoughts of Chanyeol’s face and hands. They were back on full force,
dragging him down to this big swamp of self-loathing and disgust.

He guesses meeting Chanyeol again after all those years reignited what
he’d spent most of his time trying to suppress. Now, as he sits on his
desk chair, spinning from side to side and facing the window, appalling
ideas start to wiggle into his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, and
quitting his job sounds like a wise decision. He should. He also should
move out, go far away from those eerie-looking woods. The part of him
that still wants to fight voted against that, reasoning that Chanyeol is
the source of his traumas, and if he wants to grow out of them, he’d
better face Chanyeol again. However, the wise side of him vouched for a
way out, somewhere distant from what’s causing Baekhyun physical
pain.

6 P.M Friday finds him pacing by the cabin’s front door.

“What am I doing?” Baekhyun berates, “What in the world am I doing?”

A twig snaps in the background and Baekhyun whips around, eyes wide
and wary. He finds Chanyeol in same clothes from two weeks ago,
standing in the clearing with a bundle of fish in a hand. Baekhyun’s
entire body goes numb, and his mind becomes completely blank.
Chanyeol’s eyes remain on Baekhyun’s, hard and vague, and then he
lets out a full-bodied sigh. He steps forward, climbs up the few stairs
and whooshes past Baekhyun. And to the latter’s surprise, Chanyeol
leaves the front door open.

Baekhyun swallows his hesitation and walks into the cabin.

As he stands by the door, he takes in the same furniture poised in the

same position from before. He also watches how Chanyeol places the
fish on the counter to take off his coat. Baekhyun kicks off his shoes
and steps inside, aiming the chair by the table.

Again, the rest of the evening is spent in silence with Chanyeol grilling
the fish inside the fireplace. Baekhyun has sat on the armchair and
pecked out a book from the pile, Touching the Void, and read up to
three pages when he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“Do you even have any friends?”

“It’s true that I allowed you in, but that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate your
chatter.” Chanyeol says from his crouch by the fireplace.

“So what, are you just going to pretend I’m not here for the rest of the
night?” Baekhyun marvels.
“Are you staying here for the rest of the night?” Chanyeol asks, and
there’s a hint of a groan in his voice.

“You want me to walk back these woods when it’s gotten this dark?”
Baekhyun exclaims, “I know you’re heartless, but try to be a little more
sensitive, okay?”

“Then why can’t you?” Chanyeol retorts.

Baekhyun arches up a brow at the man, a cue for him to explain.

“You’re back when I clearly told you to stay away,” he huffs, “I told you I
didn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore, but here you are
again, deliberately strolling within my territory.”

“Your territory,” Baekhyun scoffs, “last time I checked, these woods

weren’t yours.”

“But the cabin is.” Chanyeol fires back, “and you’re harassing me.”

Baekhyun clicks his tongue and makes half a smirk, “You’re such a
poor little thing, having this evil creature invade your privacy.” He said,
his tone gushing with sarcasm. “Are you scared I’ll awaken your
memories of being a psycho?”

Chanyeol almost snarls, “You don’t want to go there.”

“You’re wrong. I do want to go there.” Baekhyun confirms, “But it’s
unwise if it’s just me and you, isolated. There’s no telling of what you
might do to me if your emotions are rattled.”

Chanyeol then straightens up to full height.

Instead of fear, all Baekhyun feels is utter excitement.

“That’s right.” Chanyeol’s lips pull into a cold smirk. “We’re isolated
from everyone.”

A shudder runs through Baekhyun’s body and he stills all motions, he

doesn’t even know if he’s breathing anymore. When Chanyeol suddenly
faces the fireplace, Baekhyun feels neglected. He watches attentively
how Chanyeol takes the fish skewers to lay them out on the table, and
that’s when he feels it: Him losing command over his own body.

He puts the book aside and stands up, his trembling hands fumble with
the upper button of his flannel. He manages to unbutton it at last, and
then he takes it off. At the sudden rustle, Chanyeol reels around to
understand what’s happening, only to find Baekhyun stripping off of his
clothes. Baekhyun’s eyes don’t fail to pick up on the dismay slowly
taking over Chanyeol’s expression, but he doesn’t stop. He removes his
t-shirt next, and trembles as cold air envelopes his upper body.

“What’s this?” Chanyeol demands.

Baekhyun gropes the belt buckle, willing his shivering fingers to undo it.
“Stop,” Chanyeol grits out, his body growing evidently taut. “What the
hell is this?”

Baekhyun closes his eyes to the accusation in Chanyeol’s voice, and

finally manages to get his jeans down to his ankles. He kicks them off at
last, and then he stands by the armchair, naked from head to toe. He
balls his fists at his sides and sighs.

“After you, I tried dating” he starts, “never worked out.”

Chanyeol remains silent and motionless.

“I knew my body couldn’t respond to anyone but you,” he admits on a

sad-stricken, self-derogatory smile. “After all, you’re the one who trained
me.”

Chanyeol lowers his head, but eyes remain wide and trembling. “Put
your clothes back on.”

“I won’t.” Baekhyun insists, “You caused this, now fix it.”

“I can’t.” Chanyeol says, dejectedly.

“Why not” Baekhyun persists adamantly, almond-shaped eyes bugging

out, “You used to take whatever you wanted, and you never asked how I
felt about it. I never had a chance to complain. You made me like this,
Chanyeol. You owe me!” He is shouting by the last word.
The fire crackles, interrupting the post silence.

“A broken toy can’t delight a child, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol simply says

before slumping down on a chair.

Baekhyun’s nostrils flare, “Stop speaking in backward codes, you

asshole.”

“I’m saying I can’t help with that.” Chanyeol drops his face on his palm,
“I don’t desire you in that way.”

Baekhyun feels as though he’s just been winded in the guts. “You don’t
desire me?” He snorts, “Are you nuts! You spent months raping me in
every position you’d think of!”

“That wasn’t me.” Chanyeol explains, “The things the ‘me’ back then
felt towards you dissipated years ago, alright? You think I’ll get hard
seeing you naked?”

“I don’t care,” Baekhyun seethes, “You ruined every chance I could

have at normal, now take responsibility.”

This is absolutely great. The man who used to make up excuses to get
into his pants is now so fixedly trying to not even look at his naked body.
And Baekhyun is supposed to, what, stand there and take it, what,
didn’t the bastard hear what he’s just said.

The hand that was palming Chanyeol’s face slips to the table, he balls it
and then slams it on the wood. Baekhyun in the side flinches so hard.
Chanyeol slowly lifts his face; the glint of dark, malevolent eyes shakes
Baekhyun to the core. He lifts up unhurriedly, as though stalling on
purpose to give Baekhyun a chance to reconsider.

To show him how uninterested he is, Baekhyun sits on the bed, turns on
his side and folds his left knee.

Touch my mouth and hold my tongue

I'll never be your chosen one

Chanyeol, then, saunters towards him with his heavy soles stomping on
the plank. And Baekhyun closes his eyes. He didn’t reopen them until
Chanyeol stands by the bed, tall and silent.

I'll be home safely tucked away

Well, You can't tempt me if I don't see the day

Aside from his unsteady breaths, Baekhyun hears the fire crackling. He
feels the light touch of air currents on his skin, raising the hair on it.
Chanyeol’s fingers land on the scarred name on his back, icy like a
snowflake. Baekhyun hisses and Chanyeol immediately lifts his hand
off.

“It’s…” Baekhyun sighs, “You surprised me, s all.”

Chanyeol rubs his hands against his thighs for a moment, and then he
brings same hand again to Baekhyun’s scars. This time, the man
doesn’t hiss. He takes that as his cue to go further.
Baekhyun clutches at the bed sheets as Chanyeol glides that hand
down to fondle his ass. “None of that,” he grits out, “I’m not here to
cuddle.”

Chanyeol stills his motions for a beat, and then scoffs. Baekhyun
doesn’t even dare to ask the reason for it.

Chanyeol thumps the puckered entrance, and although it keeps

twitching: an indication of how much nervous Baekhyun is, he keeps
nudging his finger against it. He doesn’t stop until three fingers fit and
Baekhyun is a huffing mess beneath him.

“You’re ready,” he notes out, “but I’m not.”

Baekhyun perks up at that on his elbows, and he looks over his

shoulder at Chanyeol’s half erection. “I’m not sucking off that thing.”

“How do you suggest I penetrate you otherwise?”

Baekhyun shakes his head and fans back on his arms. “I’m never
gonna blow you again.” Not after Chanyeol used to beat him into it.

Chanyeol behind him remains silent, and the rustling of his clothes
suggests that he’s unzipping his pants. He crawls over the bed, his
scent and warmth enveloping Baekhyun wholly. He grinds against
Baekhyun’s ass and the latter feels the half hard-on poking him. He
braces himself for it. Chanyeol’s cock slowly grows in size, excited to rub
on different flesh.
The precum oozing out of Chanyeol’s cock, and which the man is
rubbing all over Baekhyun’s rim, results in wet noises. He didn’t allow
this, but having Chanyeol tease his prostate and not penetrate would be
cruel to his body. Chanyeol finally stops, and lines the head of his cock
with Baekhyun’s hole.

Here it comes; Chanyeol’s cock…

He is taking his first step into a pit of absolute darkness, and no words
are being exchanged.

Baekhyun stares at the wall, still blowing out little huffs. He keeps his
knee folded so that Chanyeol has enough space. Chanyeol pushes in
very slowly, and Baekhyun feels his entrance widening at the intrusion.
Chanyeol’s dick is inside him, again, after four years. Baekhyun opens
his mouth and lets a deep groan loose. Chanyeol bottoms out, and
Baekhyun sags on the sheets, breathless.

He never forgot this feeling. Not even once.

He knows it’s wrong, and his deceased friends deserve better.

Baekhyun, however, could never stop his other half from hankering for
this. Chanyeol’s cock touching his insides, it simply fits. He clasps his
hands on the pillow and pulls it under the side of his head, so that if he
moaned, he’d mask the sounds.

Without a forewarning, Chanyeol snaps his hips. Baekhyun yowls but

quickly buries his mouth in the pillow to stifle the moans that soon
follow. Chanyeol braces his arms at either side of Baekhyun’s middle,
and pants atop him.
Baekhyun folds his knee to his chest, welcoming the pressure more as
Chanyeol performs strong piston thrusts against his prostate, rocking
his entire body and making the bed creak noisily, eventually making him
sob his moans.

The pull on my flesh was just too strong

Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs

Chanyeol’s dick is making him moan, and other than the crackling of
the fire this time, all he hears is the wet slapping of skin on skin as
Chanyeol pounds into him, and the latter is panting. Baekhyun flings his
arm to the back, probing Chanyeol’s side and finally presses at his ass-
cheek, “faster…” he sobs, “Cumming…”

So rough, so strong and deep and Baekhyun is going out of his freaking
mind. His eyes roll under his lids as he sends his cum over the sheets.
The tightening of his muscles forces Chanyeol’s cum out as well. He
fans down on Baekhyun, panting shallowly.

“Get off.” Baekhyun barks.

Chanyeol lifts off just as quickly, he sits up and slowly slides his cock
out.

“I didn’t say you can pull out.” Baekhyun bites out, “we’re far from
done.”

Chanyeol stares blankly at him.

Baekhyun shifts a little to lie flat on his stomach. He spreads his legs
with his cock nestled between his thighs and peeking from under his
ass cheeks.

“But this position…” Chanyeol trails off.

“What, you used to find satisfaction in my pain, you bastard.” Baekhyun

hufs, “don’t act like you care now.”

Yes, having Chanyeol thrust inside him in this position is going to be

painful, but accompanying pain, there’s pleasure. So while Baekhyun
bears with the pain, he gets to feel utter pleasure as well.

Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie

'Cause when I opened my body I breathe in a lie

Chanyeol then penetrates Baekhyun again, his knees on either side of

the man’s hips. When he thrusts fast into him, it’s wanton, instinct-
driven movements, like a damn dog in a rut.

Chanyeol lingers kneeled on the bed, just watching how his cum trickle
down from Baekhyun’s ass hole and down to the bed cover, adding to
the pool of cum Baekhyun himself created. Baekhyun passed out soon
after Chanyeol ejaculated in him so much it’d impregnate any other
woman, so he savors up this private moment to behold Baekhyun for
his entire splendor.

He smirks…
His name is still scarred on Baekhyun’s back, engraved on it like the
man is his fucking property. This is absolutely great. He fucked
Baekhyun senseless again, and he didn’t have to force the man into
anything. The guy invited him to do this with his own free will, and
Chanyeol even gave him a few moments’ leeway to change his mind. He
fucked him so deep like Baekhyun was his Onahole, and he didn’t even
care if Baekhyun screamed in pain, he fucking wanted this.

I will not speak of your sins

There was a way out for him

the mirror shows not

Having Baekhyun sprawled beneath him, vulnerable and sexed-out, is

absolutely great.

Your values are all shot

But oh my heart, was flawed I knew my weakness

He suddenly frowns.

What in the world is he thinking...? Isn’t it enough that Baekhyun

passed out? What else does Baekhyun have to go through for Chanyeol
to understand how messed up their situation is. Baekhyun demanded
this, so maybe that’s his version of torture. This is the part of that hell
he wanted Chanyeol to relive. This could be troublesome, and in equal
part catastrophic.

In any case, he is certain that, after tonight, Baekhyun won’t come

back.
So hold my hand consign me not to darkness...
Chapter Fourteen

It’s like time stops here at midnight so that yesterday recurs. Baekhyun
wakes up, only for his eyes to catch the logs forming the ceiling. He
listens as birds chirp with their wings fluttering on the window sill. He
listens at the rustle of trees, peaceful and calming.

Chanyeol is, again, nowhere to be seen.

Baekhyun sits up and the cover falls off his chest, revealing the warm
skin that quivers under the assaulting morning cold. He pulls the cover
from the hem up to his neck, and scowls. The front door creaks open,
and as Baekhyun turns to scowl at it, Chanyeol marches in, a plastic
bag in his hand. He grinds to a halt after closing the door when he sees
that Baekhyun is awake and still in bed. Baekhyun’s bearings give way
under the penetrating gaze, and soon he finds his cheeks getting hotter.
A flash of the previous night’s happenings on this same very bed appear
so he lifts the hem of the cover up to his nose. Chanyeol looks away and
down at his boots, he kicks them off and walks in. Baekhyun, nested
under the cover, watches how Chanyeol places the bag gently on the
counter and starts taking off his coat.

“Go wash up.” He suddenly instructed, now closing the window which
Baekhyun thought has been closed till now. No wonder he heard the
birds.

Baekhyun crinkles his nose at the idea. He is not leaving this warm nest
to go wash his face with freezing water. “I’m good.”

Chanyeol looks over his shoulder, blankly.

“What?” Baekhyun hissed, “I’m not washing my face with Hoth water,
I’d freeze to death!”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and carries on to the ‘kitchen’ area.

Baekhyun returns his mouth under the cover and shivers.

Yesterday, he stripped and offered his body to Chanyeol without a

moment’s thought, and it’s scary: he should be furious at himself and at
his horrible decisions, but he isn’t. Last night’s sex was very satisfying –
the most satisfied he’s felt in years. He is a little bit, though, remorseful.
When he thinks about his dead friends, and his best friend, who
suffered just as much, this guilt starts to nag at him.

“Put this on,” Chanyeol interrupts his thoughts, “we don’t want you
freezing to death, now, do we?”

Baekhyun looks up and a piece of clothing smacks him on the face, he

swipes at it and finds that it is a maroon hoodie. He quickly dons it and
returns his arms and shoulders under the cover. “What’s for breakfast,”
he demands, “fish and rice again?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Chanyeol simply replied.

“You’re slowly turning into one of those dudes who live up to 40 years of
complete isolation,” Baekhyun said, “starting to sound like one, too.”

Chanyeol opens the bag, and all Baekhyun gets for his remark is the
scratching noise of the bag being parted. As Baekhyun nudges the
pillow against the headboard to lean on it, Chanyeol comes up to him
with a small dish. Baekhyun inspects the triangle piece of pie on it, and
then returns his gaze on Chanyeol’s.

“It’s not gonna eat you.” Chanyeol reminded.

Baekhyun huffs and takes the plate from him, and then takes the fork
as well. Chanyeol returns to the table and drops down on the chair, his
plate cluttering on the table.

“Where did you get this?”

“I have my own pie-farting unicorn at the back of the cabin.”

Silence prevails for a beat, and then Baekhyun snorts.

“Smartass” He shakes his head and stabs the fork into his piece of pie.

“An old lady downtown prepares it for me,” He starts, “She puts it on the
ridge of her window every Saturday morning.”

Baekhyun’s lips have parted open at some point, and he quickly

presses them together when he comes to the realization. “Wow,” he
marvels, “you must be like the mysterious tooth fairy then,” he joked,
“Instead of teeth, she gives you pie.”

Chanyeol eats in complete silence again.

“She must be a nice person to do that for you.” Baekhyun added.

“Everything’s been steered into one direction,” Chanyeol suddenly

speaks, eyes on his piece of pie, and for a moment, Baekhyun thinks
the man is talking about the pie. “People stopped doing things for
themselves; they do it to get praise instead. Living up to everyone’s
expectations is very tiring, and not to mention moronic.”

“What’s wrong with a little praise?” Baekhyun defended, “not all people
aspire for that, but we don’t have the right to condemn those who need
it.”

“After sketching your family poster, maybe,” Chanyeol scoffed, and

added “you die alone.”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes, forehead scowling. “Just what exactly are
you trying to get at?”

“That people reach full maturity at age 25,” He reasons, which made
Baekhyun cock his head in more confusion. “Praise or not, as long as
you’re breathing, you don’t need anyone’s recognition for your
achievement.”

Baekhyun, for the five seconds he allowed the silence to prevail, he

wills his mind to look for what instigated this. He told Chanyeol that the
person who gives him pie must be nice, and that and this are irrelevant.
Baekhyun has no idea what kind of monologue is going on inside
Chanyeol’s head –wait… “Are you trying to say that you’re thankful to
the lady who prepares the pie for you?”
Chanyeol’s upper lip and brows flinch. He quickly resumes eating again,
frowning in feign concentration.

Baekhyun cups his lips to keep them from stretching into a smile.

This is what a grateful Chanyeol looks like...?

After another beat of silence, Baekhyun places the dish on the bedside
drawer, resignation taking over. “Listen, once a week, I’ll come to your
cabin and leave on the same day.”

Chanyeol holds off all motions, and then only his eyes lift up.

“I have Saturday free, and you don’t exactly run a business here.” He
scoffs, “you give me what I want on a Saturday, and I’ll leave you alone
for the rest of the week.”

“Isn’t that what you’re already doing?” Chanyeol tilted his head a bit,
perplexed.

“Yea, except if you agree to the deal, I’ll leave in the same day.”

Chanyeol mumbles a “would be fine if you leave forever” before biting a

portion of his pie.

“No more staying over, and no more hogging the bed because you
obviously seem to have a problem with that.” Baekhyun goes for
lighthearted but his humor is met with silence again, “Or I can just
return here whenever I want.”

Chanyeol dumps the last bit of the pie into his mouth and lifts up. He
lays the dish on the counter again, picks his coat from the fastener and
slips it on. “Don’t come after dusk.” He says over his shoulder and
heads to the front door again.

Baekhyun’s brows fly up under his fringe, and as he watches Chanyeol

slipping into his boots, a smirk invades his plump lips.

The next Saturday rolls in quickly.

Baekhyun buys some snacks, and in his pace outside the grocery store,
contemplating whether this is a good idea or not, his legs end up
carrying him to the nearest pharmacist. He shamefully hides his
purchased items in the chest pocket of his jacket and trudges towards
the woods.

He’s overturned this in his head countless times the past few days. He
even sought professional help online but eventually chickened out when
the questions got too deep and personal. He doesn’t even know why
he’s walking towards the cabin, but he knows Chanyeol is in there, and
something in him is fucking drawn to the man and the past that
connects them together. Chanyeol can try and deny this all he wants,
but when it’s all said and done, his memory of Baekhyun is the only
thing he would never be able to erase, and no amount of hypnosis this
time can alter the fact, change it or erase it.

The cabin starts to come into view, and with every step closer,
Baekhyun’s heart pounds faster and faster. He sees the smoke that
seeps out of the chimney and immediately knows Chanyeol is inside. He
walks up to the door, knocks one time and pushes the door open. He
peeks from the slightly opened door and finds Chanyeol on the
armchair, wearing a crew neck pullover and bleached jeans, relaxing
and reading a book.

He clears his throat and steps closer to the table. He rests the bag of
snacks on the table to take off his jacket. “Brought some snacks,
supposing you didn’t have dinner yet.”

Chanyeol closes the book, flings it over the pile of other dusty books
and stands up. Baekhyun arches a brow, attentively watching the
change in endeavor that heralds something, and it’s not anything good.

“Alright,” Chanyeol looks at him, “I don’t have the entire afternoon, get
on the bed.”

Baekhyun frowns.

“Like I said,” he grits out, “let’s get it over with.”

Baekhyun’s frown morphs into… nothing. He hangs the jacket on the

backrest of the chair and starts unbuckling his belt. Chanyeol, in front of
him, crosses his arms over his broad chest and flares his nose.
Baekhyun reads the annoyance in Chanyeol’s gestures, and quickens
his movements. Like all the times Chanyeol hated to be kept waiting. He
finally takes his pants off, but keeps his Henley on. He traipses to the
bed and sits on it. Chanyeol uncrosses his arms and also steps to the
bed. He watches how Baekhyun spins around and crawls on four, and
then remains in that position.
Chanyeol grumbles for some reason, and Baekhyun has a good idea or
two why. He isn’t going to give oral, and Chanyeol needs to wrap his
head around it. If he wants to get hard, he can just do same thing he did
last time. It worked, it will again.

Chanyeol kneels on two behind him and unzips his jeans to allow his
cock out. He holds Baekhyun by either side of his hips and starts
rubbing his cock against the man’s rim, very, very slowly. Baekhyun
closes his eyes, savoring up the unbelievable feeling. His tongue snakes
out, licking his upper lips before he bit on the bottom one. Chanyeol
uses his thumbs to part Baekhyun’s ass cheeks, and he bumps the
head of his cock against the now precum-slicked hole. Baekhyun lets
out contented sighs, and unbeknownst to him, he starts rolling his ass.

No words make their way out of their mouths, only shallow breaths.

Chanyeol stopped rubbing against Baekhyun’s rim when his cock grew
in size. He doesn’t even wait to consent Baekhyun as he thrusts into
him all the way in. Baekhyun almost falters. He cries and keeps his
narrowed eyes on the wall.

“Bastard” He berates, “how about a little warning before you ram your
thing in, you didn’t even prep me.”

“Oh, my bad” Chanyeol muses, “Didn’t think I was supposed to do that

for you as well.”

“Take it out,” he suddenly demands, “I don’t want to feel pain from

this.”
“Like I said,” Chanyeol breathes out, “I don’t have time.”

“You running a lemonade stand, you piece of shit?” He chides, “Take it

out before you tear me.”

“Alright,” Chanyeol acquiesces, but doesn’t take his cock out. “But I’m
not putting it back in.”

Baekhyun balls the cover in his fists and flares his nostrils. “Take it
out.”

Chanyeol pulls out with such a force that sends Baekhyun fanning down
on the bed. He tucks his cock under his boxers, and lifts up to zip his fly.

“Wait,” Baekhyun groans, “I bought lube. You don’t have to do anything,

but give me a minute.”

Chanyeol eyes the defiant look in Baekhyun’s and can’t help but smirk.
“Fine, but make it quick.”

Baekhyun swings his legs outside the bed and rushes to his jacket, and
then he takes out the lube and bolts to the bathroom. Chanyeol sits on
the bed, twines his fingers and props his chin on them. He gives it
exactly two minutes before he lifts up. He heads to the bathroom and
plasters his mouth closer to the door.

“I’m leaving.”
“I’m almost done,” Baekhyun reports, “you can’t just leave.”

“Close the door before you go back.”

The door to the bathroom is suddenly yanked open, and Baekhyun

shows up, breathless, cheeks coated in pink and brunette hair
disheveled. Chanyeol observes him silently.

“I’m done.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, “next time” he said, “I need to go now.”

“Not fair,” Baekhyun bellows, “We had a deal, Chanyeol. You can’t just
back away.”

Chanyeol crunches his face like he’s heard the reiteration of the
accusation countless times, now he just can’t bring himself to care. “I
get it,” he huffed, “you want to come, right? Turn around.”

Baekhyun flings him that incredulous look, and slowly swivels around.
Chanyeol presses up against him and he gasps at the suddenness of
Chanyeol’s movement. He feels the man pushing him inside the
bathroom, and he allows it because he is promised an orgasm.

Chanyeol glides a hand down to Baekhyun’s erect cock and fists it,
making the man yelp in surprise again. He starts rubbing it off, long
strokes on Baekhyun’s shaft that make the latter groan. He alternates
to using both hands; one caresses the head and the other the shaft of
the cock.
Baekhyun’s knees weaken and he slips to the floor, bringing Chanyeol
with him who decided not to haul him up. Chanyeol leans back against
the wall and helps Baekhyun lean back on his chest.

Baekhyun curls his toes and clutches at Chanyeol’s knees. The feeling
of two skillful hands doing their thing on his cock is mind-blowing, and
he wants to drown in the sensation. He lets out continuous small moans
and sighs. He parts his eyes open when he feels Chanyeol’s cock hard
and poking his lower back. He hurls forwards and drops on his knees
and hands, and he is a little glad that Chanyeol didn’t take his hands
off.

“You’re hard,” he notes out. “You’re rock hard!”

Chanyeol fans on Baekhyun’s back and groans. “Be quiet.”

Baekhyun shifts to brace himself on his forearms, his ass still in the air,
pressing against Chanyeol’s hard-on. He loses himself in the way
Chanyeol is jerking him off and the way he is humping his ass. It doesn’t
last, though. Chanyeol is soon letting go of Baekhyun’s cock and
kneeling properly on two. Baekhyun beneath him makes a strange
strangled noise, like he’s just been denied orgasm, Chanyeol muses. He
unzips his fly again and takes his cock out, and it’s like Baekhyun said,
it’s rock-hard. He nudges it against Baekhyun’s ass hole, and he fucking
hears Baekhyun gulp in anticipation. He pushes all the way in again,
grunting at the tightness and the heat welcoming him.

Baekhyun mewls whorishly as his cum pours to the floor.

“From mere penetration…” Chanyeol marvels.

Baekhyun gives himself a moment, just lying there, willing the chill in his
spine to go away already.

Chanyeol, though, doesn’t have time for that. He braces his hands one
at each side of Baekhyun’s head, and then he moves. Baekhyun
remains on his forearms, teeth nibbling at the back of his hand, with his
ass in the air for Chanyeol to pound and fuck. His mind and body slowly
sink under the tidings of pleasure Chanyeol sends with every reckless
thrust of his hips.

Baekhyun sagged to the floor again after Chanyeol ejaculated inside of

him. When he plopped his middle on the floor, the action caused all the
semen Chanyeol pumped inside him to spill out.

Chanyeol cleans himself at the sink and retreats from the confined
room. He fetches his coat and finally exits the cabin.

Baekhyun blinks sporadically at the moldered walls, his fingers twitch

when cold currents of air catch him, courtesy of Chanyeol lacking the
good grace to close the door after leaving. He remains there on the
floor, just hating and feeling disgusted with himself…
Chapter Fifteen

The next Saturday was quick to arrive, too.

Baekhyun follows his usual routine, but this time, he actually preps
himself because he knows Chanyeol isn’t going to do it for him. Last
time, if he didn’t stop the bastard, he’d have seriously given him an anal
fissure. He still remembers how those used to hurt back during his
captivity.

Instead of just snacks, Baekhyun purchases a tent heater and a throw.

And instead of a bit late, he goes to Chanyeol’s cabin a little earlier than
usual. Last time, he returned home late. He’s already been hearing
people getting attacked by boars; he doesn’t want to be the next victim.

The sky today is clear, but despite the sun, it’s still chilly. As Baekhyun
walks up the street, he feels the tip of his nose getting stabbed by
unremitting cold breeze. He enters the woods at last. Between last
Saturday and this Saturday, he’s berated himself in hopes to give up
whatever this he’s started but to no avail. He just can’t seem to bring
himself to anything beside trudge in these woods. He doesn’t
understand it either, and he was saying the truth when he first
prepositioned this to Chanyeol. After four years, Baekhyun wanted to try
going out again. He went out with Sabo, the half-British dude who
worked part-times at a bakery. They kissed a few times, nothing more
than a peck. It’s just he doesn’t find people interesting anymore, not as
he used to anyway. Heck, he used to profile people because it was fun,
and girls used to find that quite sexy about him. He nixed all of that
after his return home from all that hell.
He is certain now that his body can’t and won’t react to anyone if it’s not
Chanyeol.

Being trained for over four months did something to his body, made it
crave the touch of hands that no longer want to get dirty touching him,
and it’s entertaining: watching himself fall into the depths of
degradation.

The cabin’s chimney isn’t coughing any soot, and Baekhyun stops in his
track. He hears the thwack of wood being chopped by something
metallic. Fleet-footedly, he brisked up his pace and finally showed up at
the clearing of the cabin. He finds Chanyeol, shirtless, axing a log.
Baekhyun stands rooted to his spot, watching Chanyeol being himself
for he hasn’t caught up on the new presence yet. He is wearing the
bleached jeans and the boots, flannel tied around his waist. He lifts the
heavy axe and swipes at the middle of the log, his sweat-soaked fringe
flutters with every jerk of his muscles.

A balmy breeze moves Baekhyun’s hair, and Chanyeol is soon paying

attention to him.

Baekhyun looks away, steps forward and towards the cabin. “Keep the
shirt off.” He throws over his shoulder.

Inside, he places the bags on the floor and goes in farther to stand by
the table. He hears the door creak open, and he doesn’t wait. He starts
working on the button of his pants.

Chanyeol saunters his way.

When Baekhyun slid his pants to his ankles, Chanyeol unzipped his fly.

“Do I have to wait again?” He wanted to know.

Baekhyun shakes his head, turns around and leans on the table. “It’s
taken care of.” He assured, “do your part of the bargain now.”

Chanyeol gives his cock a few strokes with a hand, and the other
nudges at the puckered entrance. It’s wet and a little red and puffy
which asserts Baekhyun’s statement. Baekhyun claps his hands at the
edge of the table until color leaves his knuckles. Chanyeol stops his
ministrations seeing that his cock is hard and ready, and he dives into
the tightness and heat again, groaning his approval.

Baekhyun bites his bottom lip to keep from making any noises, but he
finds that’s almost impossible because Chanyeol’s dick wreaks havoc,
that’s what it does. He keens and forces his eyes shut. Chanyeol hoped
the other would come from being penetrated like last time so he’d wrap
things up quickly, but Baekhyun is holding on. Chanyeol thrusts in him
again and again, until Baekhyun can’t take it and comes all over the
table. He fans on it with his heaving chest, and he brings the back of his
hand to his lips, nibbling at it.

Chanyeol pulls away until only the head of his cock is buried in, and he
waits.

Baekhyun props up on his hands now, almost standing askew, and

buckles against Chanyeol cock, taking it all back in. He repeats it when
Chanyeol groans. Again and again, until Chanyeol can’t stifle his moans
and sighs anymore. Baekhyun stands up and rests his weight on
Chanyeol’s, his head on the man’s broad shoulder.
Chanyeol can’t believe how resilient this ass hole is, taking all of him in
and swallowing him whole. He hooks an arm around Baekhyun’s middle
to bring him closer, and the other to the cock crying for attention.

“It’s… sensitive.” Baekhyun moaned hotly, “it’ll hurt if you touch it.”

“It looks pretty happy in my hand.” Chanyeol drons inside Baekhyun’s

ear, and he senses the way the man trembles as warm fluid coats his
hand. He scoffs, “You came again.”

Baekhyun’s head lolls on Chanyeol’s shoulder and his pupils sink under
his lids. “Shocker.” He hacked, now smirking.

Chanyeol frowns and hugs both his arms around Baekhyun very
securely. He bends a little, and then he snaps his hips in a speed that
catches Baekhyun off-guard.

“Bastard…!” Baekhyun hollers and clasps at Chanyeol’s arm with a

hand, and the other goes to the smooth black hair. “God… feels great!”
He clutches at the strands and grits his teeth together.

Chanyeol’s frown deepens as he continues to groan into Baekhyun’s

ear, the side of his forehead pressing up against the warm cheek.

Baekhyun feels his mind melting, and nothing in him works except
pleasure receptionists. “Fuck me harder…” he moans breathlessly,
“fuck, it feels so good.”
Chanyeol closes his eyes and speeds his thrusts, the deep sound of
skin hitting skin echoes in the small cabin until Chanyeol shoots burning
come inside Baekhyun. The latter dropped on the table while Chanyeol
took his cock out immediately. He watches how semen gushes out of
the now-puffy hole and spills down Baekhyun’s thighs every time it
twitches.

Baekhyun hears a door open and close and assumes that Chanyeol has
just locked himself in the bathroom. He reminds himself of the deal, so
instead of lingering there to who knows how long, He painstakingly puts
his pants back on, his shoes too, and then leaves.

~~~~

Baekhyun’s been trying to fit 40-hour workweek into 16 hours. Saturday

was looming in, closer and closer with each passing minute. He hated
the rush that usually proceeded Christmas holiday. There was
absolutely no excitement or looking forward for the day off because he
vouches for more, one day isn’t going to cut it for him.

Taking a fervent glance at his watch, he noticed how late it’s gotten. He
collects the rest of the reports that are due tomorrow and heads out,
flinging a ‘good night’ to the janitor outside the school gate. He walks
back home, prepares dinner after changing and all, and then resumes
working on the reports.

He wakes up the next morning groggy and achy. He realizes he nodded

off at some point last night and spent what was left of the night
sleeping on the couch. The only good thing he managed to achieve from
his impromptu doze is the fact that all the reports have been worked on,
now ready to be submitted in. He checks his phone for any missed calls
or unread texts, and finds a short text from his father asking him about
his plans for the 25th of this month. He sends back a short text as well,
letting his father know that he hasn’t decided on anything yet.

For breakfast, he gulps down some juice from the half empty cartoon
that’s going to go bad in another two days, and then he gets dressed
again. He brings the papers he’s expected to hand in together and
heads out. Inside the teachers’ room, he finds the music teacher by her
desk, shuffling through a log of some sort. He greeted her and she
immediately shied when their eyes met. Baekhyun places the files on
the vice-principal’s desk, and then he waves bye to the shy teacher
again before finally exiting the room.

As he walks back towards the apartment building, biting cold currents of

air pierce his face. His eyes catch the apparition of high mountains
behind thick layers of fog that is surrounding the little town like satin
sheets. He notes it in his head to watch the weather forecasting later
before heading to Chanyeol’s. He predicts a vortex of snow that might
reach this town by the beginning of next week, and he doesn’t have to
levitate down from the heavens with holy music in the background to
tell that much. He is just upset that he has to be here when it’ll snow,
he absolutely can’t stand it. And just to be sure, he opens the calendar
on his phone screen, and it starts to dawn on him why his father wanted
to know about his plans. The 25th is going to meet the weekend, so
instead of just one day off, he is going to be lucky to have four.

This warrants other plans than spending Christmas night cooped up

inside that rundown sardine can of an apartment. He can take his
motorbike back home and spend the holidays with his family, and he
won’t have to worry about food or school for four freaking days. If he
goes home, he’ll bathe in congenial company, and gorge down home-
made meals.

At the same time, though, he finds himself unable to hope for any of
that when he thinks of how Chanyeol is in the cabin, by himself.
The man’s been living there by himself for years, and it should be taken
for granted. Baekhyun knows Chanyeol chose the isolation on purpose,
and he is even content that the world thinks he died in the fire four
years ago. Baekhyun wants to cut the man some slack, but the way his
mind operates makes him wonder if it’ll be a good thing to leave here
for four days. He knows that, between each Saturday, Chanyeol passes
the days alone.

But it’s just so lonely.

Around three in the afternoon, the ache Baekhyun felt this morning
after waking up intensified, accompanied by a fever. He guessed
passing out on the sofa, uncovered, brought the gift. Now as he sits
there at the restaurant’s booth by the window, unfinished meal on his
table, he starts to debate whether he can go to Chanyeol’s cabin or not.
He is aware that more exertion will only spike the fever up, and trudging
inside the woods is exertion enough. Yet, this part of him, the part he’s
always fought to quench, rebels against the idea. The deal was
Saturdays only, so he doesn’t know how Chanyeol would react if he
dropped by on a Wednesday. The man is fucking unpredictable. What’s
more, Baekhyun can’t get what’s going on through the man’s head
whenever Baekhyun drops his pants and parts his legs.

Chanyeol gets hard, despite everything he said the first time Baekhyun
undressed in front of him. His cock shouldn’t get erect if he really didn’t
desire Baekhyun the way he used to four years ago. As thought,
Chanyeol’s high and mighty talk crumbles to the floor when he is
fucking Baekhyun’s ass.

Baekhyun doesn’t know if it’s the fever or these thoughts that rid of his
appetite, he bets on the latter.
~~~~

By the time he walked out, rain-charged clouds have already conquered

the town. He adjusts the collar of his jacket and jogs to a nearby thrift
shop. He purchases a hooded flannel and two jeans, and he also buys
an insulated jacket. Next, he heads to a grocery store and buys anything
edible. He also doesn’t forget to buy condoms. Chanyeol always
ejaculates inside of him and it causes him uncomfortable
stomachaches afterward. After exiting the door of the shop, he seriously
considers riding his bike. He’s already carrying a lot of bags, and with
the rain falling nonstop like this, everything he’s purchased might ruin.
He takes another look at his clock to see if he can make it, but it’s half
past four and Chanyeol has expressly said for him to come before dusk.
No, not really; he didn’t. Still, for Chanyeol to talk, that’s something. He
forgets about using his vehicle today, and instead, rushes to the woods
on his legs in a fervent haste.

Baekhyun bursts through the door of the cabin like he was pushed
inside by someone. He swivels around to shut the door, lock it in the
face of the unrelenting storm. The crackling of fire greets him, along
with a familiar silence. He reels around again, hoping to spot Chanyeol
on the armchair. He does. Baekhyun’s been to hell and back. He
survived a car crush, he survived epilepsy and he even survived months
of torture. He bounced back from all of that –anyone else wouldn’t. But
he is, suddenly, taken aback by the flutter of his heart when his eyes
met Chanyeol’s. He found him on the armchair by the fireplace, a book
in hand.

Baekhyun felt his heart flutter.

He doesn’t know if it’s the fever acting up, or what. He knows his heart
always fluttered whenever Chanyeol was spotted by his eyes or heard by
his ears, and even his stomach used to churn. However, this kind of
flutters is different. Oh God, too different.
Chanyeol’s unfathomable face contorts as if he’s just been told dogs
can fly. He closes the book and flings it to the pile. He stands up at the
same time Baekhyun kicks off his boots. He goes to the nightstand and
takes out a short towel, and then the two of them walk towards each
other and stop by the table.

“Dry your hair first.” Chanyeol tosses the towel to Baekhyun and it lands
on his chest.

Baekhyun lets the bags drop by his legs to clutch a hand at the towel.
He feels droplets of water slide down his face to accumulate under the
tip of his jaw. He quickly drops the towel on his head, and starts ruffling.

Chanyeol snorts and the other looked up. “It’s just” he starts, “you take
this deal too seriously.”

“There’s only one Saturday in a week.” Baekhyun justifies.

“Even if,” Chanyeol crosses his arms over his broad chest, shrug
deceptively good-natured. “It’s not ‘fuck or die’, Baek.”

Said man lets the words sink home and then he glares furiously at him,
“I’m here, so we might as well fuck.”

Chanyeol blows out a small sigh, “but are you sure?” he wonders, now
running appraising eyes over him. “You don’t look too well.”
Baekhyun actually marvels at the fact that Chanyeol could pinpoint his
condition. He quickly shakes his head though, dismissing the sharp
observation. “Just a slight fever,” he admits, now sliding the towel off
his head, “I’ll be fine.”

Chanyeol says nothing to the obvious lie.

Baekhyun walks past him and to the bed. “I’d have taken a shower if
you actually had hot water running.”

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t a five star hotel.” Chanyeol seethes.

Baekhyun’s hands swipe at the lapses of his jacket but fail to get the
garment off. He curses and mutters swear words to no one. Suddenly,
he feels larger hands help him take the damp jacket off.

“You too,” he whispers, breathlessly. “Lose the sweater.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chanyeol says, he scowls at the heat vibes rolling off
Baekhyun. “Undress first and then I’ll follow.”

Baekhyun prods the hems of his pullover and then starts tagging at
them, finally getting it off his head with Chanyeol’s aid. As the piece of
garment goes past his face, the room swirls in his head. He fans back
on Chanyeol with a barely stifled groan, “So dizzy.”

Chanyeol leads Baekhyun to the side of the bed and sits him down.
“You should lie down.”
Baekhyun shakes his head in disapproval, but the movement only
causes the room to spin more. He grunts and drops back on the
sheeted mattress, slightly wet strands spilling on the cover. “Lie down
with me.”

Chanyeol doesn’t answer. He kneels on the bed and works on

Baekhyun’s zipper. He takes his jeans off eventually, stripping him
down to his boxers.

Baekhyun makes soft noises before finally passing out.

Chanyeol tucks him under the cover and nestles his head on the pillow,
and then he adds the throw Baekhyun brought last Saturday over the
cover. He stands up, zeroing in on the sleeping man and trying to figure
out his next step. He picks out the towel Baekhyun dropped and rinses
it in cold water. He returns to Baekhyun’s side and puts the towel on his
burning forehead.

The howl of the wind develops into prolonged whistles when the clock
hits 2 in the morning. Baekhyun squirms under the covers and finally
cracks his eyes open. He groans and props his head off the pillow,
making the towel slip off. He looks around at the dim room, dazedly,
finding Chanyeol on the armchair again. Chanyeol has prompted up at
the muffled groan, and is now looking at Baekhyun who looks half
asleep.

“What time is it?” He wants to know.

Chanyeol provides, “A little past two.”

Baekhyun pouts like a freaking kid denied access to candy. “It’s still
early,” he says, and adds “and cold. Come to bed.”

The man arches a surprised brow. “Is it ok?”

“Why wouldn’t it be, it’s your bed, after all.” Saying so, Baekhyun sinks
down into the pillows with a huff.

Chanyeol shrugs and tiptoes to the bed, wincing every time the panels
moan under his soles. He crawls into the bed from the other side, and
apparently, Baekhyun notices the dib of the added weight. He turns to
lie on his back, his sleepy eyes trying to find Chanyeol. Chanyeol is
kneeling on two, motions held off in hopes for Baekhyun to fall back
asleep, but the man latches weekly at his clothes.

“It’s so cold, hurry.”

Chanyeol takes off his coat and drapes it over Baekhyun, and then he
slides under the covers and lies on his side. He pauses suddenly when
Baekhyun clings to him, shivering and muttering nonsense. Chanyeol
gets the hem of the cover up to his ear. He watches with rapt how
Baekhyun, still shivering like a leaf, nuzzles up against his chest. He
bets he’s savoring up some body heat, so he lets him be.

As Chanyeol rests there on his side, a mop of brown hair buried under
the covers and huddled up to his chest is all he can see from his angle.
He assures himself that he has never seen this side of Baekhyun;
clingy, and spoiled with a hint of childishness. He doesn’t know to what
he should contribute the causes. He knows Baekhyun hates him with a
passion that could set these woods on fire. He thinks back on the
events from four years ago and, although he can’t remember much
from the times he was under hypnosis, he remembers the dreams he
used to see. He also remembers the time he saw Baekhyun in his clinic
with his friend. The two of them had looked like the world had interest
in nothing but making them miserable, and they looked like they had
lost their trust in everything but themselves. As soon as Chanyeol saw
him, flashes of obscene dreams he’d been having about the man
resurfaced and he felt like Baekhyun had the answers. It didn’t make
sense at the time because he’d never seen Baekhyun before that day,
and it was strange to feel the familiarity.

The aftermath of the accident rattled him and he lives in shame, guilt
and fear, but it really can’t compare to what Baekhyun is still going
through, which doesn’t add up.

Baekhyun withstood four or five months of daily torture. He always tried

to resist but, with his friend held hostage and as leverage, he always
succumbed to Chanyeol’s demands. Every day, he tried to not lose his
sanity, and he tried to keep his hope alive that they’d be saved and that
Chanyeol would get what he deserved. It worked.

But it still doesn’t add up.

The way he is curled up and nestled against his chest –the man who
took his innocence away, it doesn’t add up that he comes back every
Saturday to part his legs and get fucked by the same man who planted
horrors in him.

On a second thought, maybe Baekhyun is far smarter than Chanyeol

gave him credit for. Maybe, he is scheming to wrap his webs around
Chanyeol until he has no escape routes, and then he’ll crush him. It’s
not that far-fetched. In any case, Chanyeol will deserve it.
The only reason why he escaped the fire wasn’t because he wanted to
live more. No. He wanted to live because he didn’t deserve to die easily
after everything he’d done to people, to Baekhyun’s friends. God, he
can’t even remember and it’s unfair to them. They suffered under his
hands, and who knows how many Hannah had made him torture and
kill.

He can tell, though, that Baekhyun was the only one whom he’d raped.

Now, as he eyes the sleeping man snuggling next to his chest, strange
thoughts start to swarm him. This is the first time in years that he and
Baekhyun sleep on the same bed without having sex. It is, somehow,
pleasant. The only times Baekhyun shows up here is to fuck and,
usually, Chanyeol has to get in the mood so it wouldn’t upset Baekhyun.
So it wouldn’t wound his pride, and if his pride is wounded, there’s no
telling of what he might do.

A part of Chanyeol would like Baekhyun to come here for more than just
sex. He knows he has nothing to offer, besides the horrible memories
and the poignant reminders, that is. However, he genuinely worries for
Baekhyun’s condition. He isn’t taking care of himself, and, obviously, he
isn’t getting enough sleep. He is getting sick and he is also avoiding
food. Chanyeol has noticed how Baekhyun’s weight has dropped a few
kilos. He has noticed the sunken eye sockets and the hollow cheeks. If
he keeps this up, he’ll fade in a matter of days.

Maybe it isn’t such a good plan for them to meet up.

Maybe, Chanyeol should get his things and go away without leaving a
trace behind.
He’d give anything to go back in time and correct everything. He’d give
his life. Yet, he knows it can’t be done.

He ruined many people’s lives and he is still ruining Baekhyun’s –he

wraps his arm around Baekhyun’s middle– he brings about nothing but
death and despair. If Baekhyun stays here, he’ll be swallowed by this
suffocating darkness, too. And Chanyeol doesn’t want that to happen,
not anymore. He wants Baekhyun, and even his friend, to have good
lives. He wants them to move on and marry and have kids.

Baekhyun suddenly moans softly under his chin, as though responding

to his thoughts. Chanyeol tightens his hold around him and brings him
closer.

Earlier, when Baekhyun walked in through the door, the first thing
Chanyeol noticed beside his drenched appearance was the way the
man’s eyes gleamed like shining pearls underwater, like crystals in
caves. His eyes harbored compassion and care … and things Chanyeol
has never felt from another human but him.

This guy, this Baekhyun, how is he still capable of caring for someone
who wronged him for too long?

Chanyeol feels the corners of his eyes burn, but no matter how much he
wills himself to cry, it never happens. He knows he isn’t permitted any
of it, not after the things he’d done. So sentiments like compassion and
care… they will continue to be elements of a fairy tale.

He can’t, however, swim with the tide. He won’t be pivoted the way
Baekhyun wants him to. If he gives in now, and if he allows his feelings
to come into play, he’s dead. Baekhyun might crush him eventually, just
to get him for what he did, and maybe more. He won’t allow himself to
relent to whatever these things he is feeling just holding Baekhyun
closer to him like this. But, dear God, the touch of someone else… he’s
never experienced this warmth.

Chanyeol rouses from a heavy slumber, taking in the shafts of morning

light and waiting for his hazy vision to focus. He becomes aware, then,
of the fact that he dropped his guard and fell asleep. His vision finally
focuses, and the feeling he gets from seeing Baekhyun’s peacefully
sleeping face resembles the tranquility he gets from watching a
meadow soaked in warm sunrays. His arm is still draped on the man’s
middle securing him near, so he wouldn’t be taken away, he assumes.
He doesn’t know why. What he does know, though, is that Baekhyun
won’t have to be taken away because once he’ll wake up, he’ll demand
to be freed.

The most amazing thing about this, however, is the hand Baekhyun has
draped on Chanyeol’s.

Baekhyun’s pupils quiver under his closed lids before finally letting the
light shed on them. The scent of fresh loam races to his nostrils, and he
takes in a long lungful before letting it out in a small yawn. He feels the
touch of familiar skin under his fingertips, and he feels its muscles
twitching. His head lolls on the pillow to the side, cheek meeting the
fabric. He goes wide-eyed for a beat.

Chanyeol’s dark eyes are on his. They aren’t cruel, and they aren’t even
cold. They’re soft and a little, dare he say, smiling. Baekhyun’s
breathing events out bit by bit, falling into a slow rhythm. He holds eyes
contact with Chanyeol, eyes switching from beholding the change in the
usually cruel eyes to the small lips, the faint scar he himself carved, and
then back to the eyes. He takes in all of Chanyeol’s face.
Chanyeol’s heart decides to leap beneath that bone cage of his. The
way Baekhyun is looking at him is that of a lover… this can’t be
happening. All Baekhyun gave him are hard and furious glares, not this.
This enamored look. This is dangerous. This is very dangerous… but at
the same time so fucking overwhelming. For the first time, Baekhyun is
actually seeing him, looking at him.

Baekhyun moves his hand a little, and when the action didn’t stir any
undesirable reactions from Chanyeol, he risked more. He starts stroking
the arm, slow, sensual movements. He notices how Chanyeol’s stiff
muscles soften under his ministrations, and the resultant feeling is
something he’s never expected someone to rouse in him, not after
thinking his heart had grown numb.

Chanyeol reminds himself of the resolve he set for last night, and starts
to harden his glare.

At the hardened glare, Baekhyun holds off all motions. He starts to feel
Chanyeol slowly pulling his arm away, and the way their fingers brushed
before Chanyeol removed his hand completely was so lovely, unusually
so. Realizing that Chanyeol is trying to cover up whatever this moment
they’ve just had, Baekhyun’s hand darts to the man’s wrist.

“Wait,” he croaks out the same time Chanyeol is sitting up, “the deal.
We didn’t do it last night.”

“It’s not Saturday anymore.” Chanyeol defends.

Baekhyun looks up at him, face set in a deep scowl. “The deal was once
a week,” he reminds.
“Lively at ass o’clock in the morning” he mutters to himself, now
scrubbing a hand over his face. “I get it.” He clicks his lips in
exasperation, “did you bring any lube?”

Baekhyun returns his hand to his chest and nods, “In the chest pocket
of my jacket.”

Chanyeol picks out the garment, feels about its pockets and finally
fishes out the small bottle of lube and the box of condom. He eyes the
items with a pair of quizzical eyes before eying Baekhyun who blushes
under the look and faces away, now lying on his side.

“Stomachaches” he reasons.

Chanyeol hums part in understanding and part in amusement. “You’re

putting one on too” he said, now dropping the jacket on the floor again,
“can’t have you staining the sheets.”

Baekhyun’s pupils take in the formation of the wall while Chanyeol

settles behind him. “It’s not my size though.”

Chanyeol removes the cover, revealing Baekhyun’s naked body. He

catches sight of the bulge growing in size but decides not to make any
comments. Baekhyun grunts in displeasure as cold air engulfed
whatever visible of his skin. Chanyeol props on his elbow behind
Chanyeol’s back, he flings a pack of condom to Baekhyun while telling
him to put it on himself. He slides his boxers down and, again, ignores
the way Baekhyun shivers. After making sure Baekhyun put on the
condom, he pours a remarkable quantity of lube on his hand and brings
it to Baekhyun’s ass. Baekhyun hisses loudly the moment lube is
smeared over his skin, but he grits his teeth anyhow.
The squelch caused by the wet friction makes Baekhyun blush all the
way to his ears, and Chanyeol is still using just his fingers. But it feels
amazing. Chanyeol is nudging his three fingers against Baekhyun’s
good spot, making him arch and spasm then finally come.

Chanyeol yanks his fingers out. He brings two other condoms, he tosses
one to Baekhyun again and shuffles a little to get his properly around
his own cock, and then he immobilizes Baekhyun by the hip. Baekhyun
emerges from the haze of his afterglow and gulps. After putting the
rubber on, Chanyeol slowly pushes his cock in, groaning again because
the anticipated feeling didn’t disappoint. He slides his hand to
Baekhyun’s knee and lifts it up. His head ducks down to Baekhyun’s
neck so that his mouth is hovering over the flushed ear.

Baekhyun feels hot breath fanning on the side of his neck, and so his
eyes roll under his head. “Move already,” he breathes out.

Chanyeol follows the command, thrusting into those flesh walls

entombing his cock and pleasing it. He watches how Baekhyun’s neck
stretches every time his head lolls to the other side, wanting to bury his
face into the pillows but failing to. He watches how one of Baekhyun’s
hands clutches at the sheets beneath, the other chases after his hair,
finally gripping a few strands and Chanyeol allows it. He also watches
how Baekhyun parts his lips and lets out sweet moans and then nibbles
at his thumb to probably keep from moaning out loud.

Chanyeol is slowly but surely losing his mind…

Baekhyun hears Chanyeol groaning and sighing into his ear, and the
resultant shudders from just that is a thing of wonder. He feels a
looming climax that plans to take over awaits a push, so Baekhyun
grants it. “Deeper,” he moans, “I want it deeper…”

Chanyeol hooks his arm under the nook of Baekhyun’s leg and tags
until he has more space. He rests his forehead on Baekhyun’s neck and
snaps his hips, thrusting deeper.

Baekhyun hacked out a yelp of surprise, but the yelp soon turned into
wanton moans and whimpers as if Chanyeol’s dick was giving him a
piece of heaven. It turns Chanyeol on so fucking much that, instead of
thrusting, he rams that dick into Baekhyun’s ass hole. It’s going to
stretch, he is pretty sure, it’s going take the size of his cock and isn’t
that terrific.

“Oh God, yes!” Baekhyun keened, saliva-slicked tongue snaking out to

lick along his upper plump lip. “Fuck me hard! You’re stirring up my
insides, it feels so fucking good!”

Chanyeol smirks to himself at the compliment, and carries on his magic.

The hand Baekhyun had over Chanyeol’s head grips tightly on the
smooth strands, and he turns his face towards Chanyeol’s. The man is
looking down at him with this look of bare hunger and raw lust that
makes him all dizzy and hot. Hotter, he’d fucking melt. “Amazing,” he
whimpers, and tears soon spill down his cheeks. “Harder! Give it to me
harder!”

Despite the almost nonexistent distance between their mouths, they

don’t kiss. They can’t, and shouldn’t. This is, after all, physical. No
emotions are involved, and kissing would alter that meaning.
Baekhyun wonders: if two people shared the same past he and
Chanyeol shares, would they still have sex so passionately like this?

Unbeknownst to him, Chanyeol’s been thinking the same thing the

moment he endeavored to do whatever Baekhyun pleased in bed.

When Chanyeol ejaculated and pulled his cock out, Baekhyun’s ass
hole was gaping like a wormhole the size of Chanyeol’s dick. He is a
little upset, though. If he didn’t wear the condom, Baekhyun’s ass hole
would have been gushing jizz out by now and it’d have been quite the
sight.

Baekhyun, however, doesn’t stir after the climax. He doesn’t even twitch
as Chanyeol feels his gaping hole. Worry finally kicks in because, in any
other day, Baekhyun would have elbowed him in the face for treating
him like a rare specimen. Chanyeol sits up and calls Baekhyun out, but
the man, again, doesn’t move or give any indication that he will.
Chanyeol taps at his cheek, and then it happens, he senses the odd
heat weaves Baekhyun is giving off.

“Shit…”

The sex and, thus, the exertion must have spiked up the fever. It isn’t
just slight warmth anymore. Baekhyun is breathing shallowly and
perspiration is running down his face. Chanyeol places two fingertips on
Baekhyun’s pulse point in his neck, his eyes widening at the speeded-
up heartbeats.

Baekhyun has, yet again, left him in another state of worry.

It’s the same as every morning he awoke to in this cabin; he catches
the dim rays of light flitting around the room, and he stares at the logs
forming the ceiling. What makes this time different, however, is the
ease with which he sits up in bed. He already expected to find it empty
judging by the deafening silence and the absence of warmth beside
him, so it doesn’t come as a surprise when he doesn’t find Chanyeol
lounging on the armchair or loitering by the kitchen.

He takes a searching look at himself, finally is able to contribute the

cause of him feeling chilly all over. He isn’t wearing any clothes, again.
Baekhyun is confused: in any other day, he’d have raised hell about it,
but it just doesn’t matter anymore. He doesn’t remember much of last
night’s events, or even after he passed out this morning due to his fever
which he is pretty sure Chanyeol nursed him back to health from, but he
knows something has changed.

He remembers waking up this morning and having the strangest

moment with Chanyeol.

He knows he didn’t hate it. He also knows he didn’t like it, either.

He isn’t sure of anything anymore.

Something outside the window steals his attention and he is soon

pulling the throw and making his way to it. He wraps the throw around
him and stands by the window. The look of lost and confusion slowly
morphs into delight and glee as a flake of snow swings smoothly in the
air before landing on the window sill. Baekhyun gazes up at the sky as it
unleashes more, and he is speechless to witness how the snow coats
the earth white.
Chanyeol stumbles into the cabin again. The soles of his boots and the
shoulders of his coat covered in snow, his hair, too. He shakes his head
and ruffles his hair, and the snowy dust scatters off his smooth strands.
Amidst his action, his eyes land on the bed. Finding it empty, he looks
around with a small frown, but it dissipates quickly when he sees
Baekhyun standing next to the window.

Chanyeol kicks off his boots and marches in, the bags in his hands
making a scratching noise. He lays them down on the counter and then,
slowly, walks up to Baekhyun.

He finds the man beholding the snow dropping outside with a childish
amusement. He sees the gleam within his eyes and the twitch in his
wide, merry smile. He has never seen Baekhyun look this happy before.
Not in his dreams and nightmares, and certainly not after they met
again. It starts doing things to his body. He starts to feel a good kind of
numbness slowly spreading out, starting from his toes. He slowly loses
sensation of the ground beneath him, and he feels like a balloon,
floating.

Baekhyun realizes looking away from the window is hard to do,

especially with the snow falling majestically like that. But then again,
from the corner of his eyes, he can see Chanyeol’s on his profile,
studying him. He faces the man, but with the excitement of witnessing
the snow still soaring within him, he keeps the smile plastered on.

As soon as Baekhyun’s gleaming eyes land on his, Chanyeol can feel

something burst inside his chest with vigor and vivacious joy. It takes all
he has in power not to palm the man’s cheek and connect their lips
together–
“I haven’t seen snow in years.” Baekhyun suddenly speaks, taking
Chanyeol out of his weird and wonderful musings. “I guess I’m a bit
overwhelmed.”

Chanyeol skids his eyes to Baekhyun’s long neck, scattered with moles.
He remembers nibbling and blowing hot breath on it while having sex
this morning. Then he aims his stare lower to Baekhyun’s shoulders,
and he can tell the man tried to cover them with the throw but it must
have kept slipping down so he eventually gave up. He follows the length
of the throw to the floor, and the way it’s flung on it like a king’s cape is
so funny and fitting at the same time, Chanyeol is stumped again.

Baekhyun’s smile slowly wanes at the way Chanyeol’s eyes are taking in
all of him.

“It snows here every year.” Chanyeol said, surprising even himself. He
looks up again into the almond-shaped eyes. “You’ll get used to it.”

Baekhyun blinks, long lashes luring Chanyeol closer. Baekhyun looks

out the window glass again, and his features lit up. “Will it be a white
Christmas this year then?”

Chanyeol shrugs slightly, “Probably.”

Baekhyun looks at him again and snorts, “It’s hard to imagine you as a
kid opening up presents by the Christmas tree.”

“It’s hard to imagine a grown ass man asking about Christmas, yet here
you are, defying the logic.” Chanyeol counters.
Baekhyun curls his lips, “Touché.”

“Come on,” Chanyeol juts his head towards the bed, “I finally managed
to bring your fever down, don’t be reckless.”

“Give me two minutes.” Baekhyun beseeches.

Chanyeol hardens his glare, “Back to bed, Baek.”

Baekhyun pouts and watches the snow with a pair of sorrowful eyes, as
if he’ll be walking up to the guillotine next for his death.

“One minute.” Chanyeol finds himself uttering, briskly.

Baekhyun’s lips are already parting into a wide grin. He nods to the man
and scoots closer to the window, resting his palm on its glass until it
condenses.

Chanyeol lingers there watching the man who used to be his captive;
face aglow and smile radiant. Chanyeol’s lived in this cabin for a few
years now, and during that time, only once did he get a chance to see
something that Baekhyun is now reminding him of:

He’d finished a good hunt and had two wild rabbits, which he’d caught
in the snares he had set up prior to that, wrapped and dangling down
his shoulders. The sun changed its angle a little but it was enough to
wash the landscapes with magenta hues. Chanyeol stopped in his
tracks to behold the magic weaving before him. For the first time, he felt
something. He felt an inner peace he never thought he would. It wasn’t
dominant. But it was there.

Looking at Baekhyun now, that peacefulness starts to bubble up again.

And compared to this morning, it’s overflowing now. He steps closer to
him; his eyes glazed with want and need. He is a few inches taller so he
ducks his head to Baekhyun’s neck, and he feels the way Baekhyun
freezes. He frowns but doesn’t stop. He parts his lips slightly and brings
them closer to the faintly feverish skin.

Baekhyun doesn’t take his eyes off the snow, despite how Chanyeol is –
is he kissing his neck?

Chanyeol’s parted lips touch the skin, his wet and hot breath making it
shudder. He hears Baekhyun’s small sigh, and he fucking loves it. He
closes his lips on the skin, opens them only to close them again. The
wet noises entice him to do more.

Baekhyun’s pupils roll under his lids and his lips part open. He slowly
tilts his head to the side and lets out a contented moan.

Chanyeol takes that as his cue and presses up closer. His tongue
snakes out, licking and rejoicing at the way it makes Baekhyun’s
tremble. One of Chanyeol’s hands slides through the opening between
each seam of the throw, and rests it on Baekhyun’s hip. The other pulls
the throw from the back, urging Baekhyun to let it slip down to the floor.

Baekhyun complies, letting go of the throw. It drops to their feet. The

arm he had braced on the window gives out and he fans on the wall,
breathless. The vapor outcast from his mouth fogs the glass every time
he exhales.
Chanyeol smirks to himself; just a kiss and Baekhyun is already
struggling to stay on his legs. He decides to go for more to test
Baekhyun’s endurance. He stands behind him and stares at the scars
and welts spoiling the beauty of his pale skin. He brings his hands to
the characters engraved and ghosts his fingertips on them. His smirk
deepens when Baekhyun hisses. He eyes the scarred back, and the
perky ass and then the naked legs. He salivates at the sight and finds
himself gulping. He’d been fucking this man but never really stopped to
admire what he was pinning down and thrusting into. He glides his
hands to Baekhyun’s ass, very slowly, teasing and maddening.

Baekhyun clasps a hand on the glass and nibbles at its back, now
making more throaty noises.

Chanyeol swivels his hands towards the groin area, just ghosting over
the skin. He catches sight of Baekhyun’s cock, rising up to the odd
attention. He returns his lips to the hollow of Baekhyun’s neck,
preferring to keep his hands on the man’s hips. He starts tonguing the
area, and at the same time, he grinds against Baekhyun’s ass because
of course he is hard. Both of them are.

Baekhyun sticks his ass out a little and his neck, too. He closes his eyes
and allows his moans free.

Chanyeol suckles on the skin in earnest. He brings a hand to

Baekhyun’s fair hair, clutches a fistful and then yanks, making
Baekhyun groan hotly. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and groans.

Baekhyun whimpers. He closes his eyes and tears soon roll down his
cheeks.
Chanyeol hears a muffled thump coming from the floor, he looks down
and the glittering milky cum pooled between Baekhyun’s parted feet
tells him that what he’d wanted to happen, happened. He feels
Baekhyun slowly starting to slide down so he helps him up. He steps
away and towards the table.

“Let’s eat.”

The holidays started on Friday the 22nd of December, and Chanyeol

disappeared on Thursday 21st.

Baekhyun is inside a dingy restaurant, the only place that agreed to

open on a Christmas day. He is sitting in the booth by the window. His
fingers moving in idle patterns on the table and eyes looking at the
snowflakes falling down to add in inches in the white cover spread on
town. There’s just him and an old man by the counter who ordered a
large bowl of ramen, like the one on his table and which has been left
untouched.

“Let’s eat.”

Baekhyun’s eyes trailed the man’s broad back. He felt worry swirl within
him when Chanyeol pulled the chair back, ready to sit.

“I can’t.”

Chanyeol held off all movements and looked up, at him. He eyed his
collar in a way that suggested he wanted to bury his mouth in it again,
switched to look at the bare chest, and then the withered cock nested
between Baekhyun’s thighs. He let out a small sigh and looked away
altogether.

“There’s a kettle on the fire over there,” he said, “there’s hot water in it.
Wash up.”

Baekhyun picked up the throw and left his own mess behind, and then
flung the piece of covering on the bed before he headed to the fireplace
where the kettle had been placed. He lifted it and felt the hot air
pushing him back. He ignored it and scurried to the bathroom, locking
the door behind.

When he stepped out of the confined space with a towel wrapped

around his waist, he found Chanyeol still sitting at the table with a large
bowl in front of him. He walked to the bed again, eyed the layers of
neatly folded and clean clothes. He glanced over at the profile of the
man as a twinge of shallow gloom engulfed him at the lonely face, and
then resumed wearing the warm garments. He approached the table
but Chanyeol hooked a thump over his shoulder, ushering to the
fireplace.

“Had to reheat it,” he said, “was starting to become soggy.”

Baekhyun nodded and swiveled to take his bowl off the carroty embers.
He returned to the table again and sat on the same chair from the other
day, and delighted at the sight of black bean sauce noodles still
popping bubbles.

“Where did you get this?”

Chanyeol paused for a beat but quickly resumed eating, “I bought it.”

Baekhyun furrowed his brows, “how?”

Chanyeol glared at him and the shorter male immediately clamped

down. Not for too long, though.

“I brought canned fish with me, you know.”

Chanyeol scoffs, looking surprisingly amused. “Why would I eat garbage

food when I can catch trout in the river?”

Fair enough.

Baekhyun succumbed to silence after that because he thought it was

wiser. He and Chanyeol didn’t talk except for when Baekhyun finally
decided to go back to his place. Chanyeol stood up and offered to walk
him back since the roads had been covered in snow, to which Baekhyun
agreed to with a jerky nod.

The walk on the snow-layered road was silent, too. The only voices that
interrupted that silence were the intermittent crunching of their boots
on the snow. When they finally reached the tree lines that overlook the
town, Chanyeol just turned and walked back the same road without a
word. Baekhyun’s hopeful eyes dulled and his face sagged. He’d been
planning to ask Chanyeol to come over to spend the Christmas with him
but it became obvious the man had plans of his own.
The waiter nears his table and says something about closing time, and
Baekhyun wakes up from his flashbacks. He pays the bill and vacates
the restaurant. He stands at the curb outside and scans the street
illuminated by glowing festive lights. He thrusts his hands into his
pockets and marches forward, snowflakes still falling and landing on
the top of his head and shoulders.

On Thursday, Baekhyun decided to muster his courage and go see

Chanyeol, maybe even convince him to spend Christmas together. He
rode his bike on the road that was still covered in snow and finally
reached Chanyeol’s cabin. He’d been losing sleep over this, thinking
and trying to craft up ideas on how to start the topic because Chanyeol
and Baekhyun weren’t friends, there were benefits but they weren’t
friends. It became a whole different thing when he found a dozen of
strange men inside the cabin, but no Chanyeol.

The boisterous men had been laughing when Baekhyun strolled in, bare
confusion on his face.

“Who’re you?” one of them asked, in his hand was a can of fish
Baekhyun had brought the previous week.

“I should be asking you that,” he countered, slowly taking his gloves off.
“This isn’t your place.”

“It’s yours?” Another one asked, he looked so Alpha and was most likely
the leader or whatever of them.

Baekhyun gulped and shook his head, “it’s my friend’s.” He winced at

his own wording.
“Oh, I apologize.” The middle-aged man said on a smile. “We, my friends
here and I, are hunters.”

Baekhyun eyed the said men who jutted and nodded their chins at him.
He nodded back and faced the leader again, “you hunt what, exactly?”

“Anything legal” He said in response, “but mostly boars.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

The man scratched his temple with a calloused hand, “received news
that a blizzard is gonna hit tonight,” he said, “we didn’t have time to go
back and return since we’re waking up at dawn anyway, soon as we
found the cabin we settled in.”

“You can’t just barge into people’s places.”

“I know. We’re sorry.” He said, face falling. “We’re going to bail at first
sun ray.”

Baekhyun allowed the info to sink home and slowly nodded, now he
chewed his bottom lip and looked around, “where’s Cha–” he cut
himself off and glared at the man, “where’s my friend, anyway?”

“Dunno,” he said, “place was empty when we got here.”

Now that Baekhyun thinks of it, he should have realized what was going
on after he spent the entire night there and Chanyeol still didn’t show
up.

By the first ray, the hunters upped and left with their firearms tucked
under their armpits. Baekhyun waited again until seven thirty and went
back to the school. He returned around six in the evening again, to see
if Chanyeol was back. He wasn’t.

On Friday, Baekhyun took his bike and rode to the cabin. He’d been so
sure Chanyeol would be there but had the biggest surprise when he
found the place empty. The fireplace was cold, so was the bed. The
things Baekhyun had brought before were still in their bags, except for
the things the hunters used and ate. He strode out, feet trudging. He
surveyed the mountains and trees surrounding the cabin, the angry
clouds and the hiding half moon.

He decided to spend the night and hoped Chanyeol would be home

already when he woke up.

He wasn’t.

Baekhyun put on his jacket and dashed outside, jaw slack and eyes
wide. He searched the woods, places that took him back to the time
Chanyeol had chased him and he had run for his life. Despite that, he
lingered there with this flaming hope to find Chanyeol because there
was nothing in the cabin that suggested he really left. But the man
himself wasn’t there, hadn’t been in days.

In a moment of frenzy, Baekhyun parted his lips and screamed himself

hoarse.
He was becoming someone that he’s not. He was afraid he was losing
himself but all that mattered was Chanyeol. He screamed because,
more than the thought of his sanity finally buying the farm, he was
scared Chanyeol was really and seriously gone.

He adjusts his woolen scarf over his nose and returns his hand into his
pocket.

Just ahead in the almost vacant alley, Baekhyun sees a box from which
he hears noises coming. He approaches it very carefully, and his gloomy
face lightens up at the sight of the golden retriever puppy with no name
tag. People still do stuff like this, seriously, and in a day like this? He
crouches by it and picks the whimpering puppy up to his chest. He pets
the back of its ears and it purrs in response.

He can take it home but what about after the holidays, who would take
care of it when Baekhyun is at work?

His logical side finally wins over and his face falls again. He does want
to pick up the puppy, but he doesn’t want to do a half-assed job of
looking after it. He’s pretty sure that, since he stopped to check the
puppy, others will and someone will eventually take it home.

With that in mind, Baekhyun places the puppy back in the cartoon box
and walks ahead.

He had ignored his father’s as well as Hongbin’s calls when they started
calling soon after Chanyeol disappeared, what with him pondering the
possibility of the man never coming back, and eventually had turned
their invitation down.
He should be home, with his family, celebrating this special eve
together.

He sighs and pauses in his track, shoulders slumping. He isn’t a good

son, is he? Favoring the fantasy or whatever the fuck Chanyeol gives
him over the tender smiles and joyful atmosphere of the people who
love him the most. He guesses with his current mindset, there’s no way
he can face his family.

He can’t do one thing right.

He turns and faces the way he came from, his footprints slowly getting
covered again by the falling snow. He lets out another sigh and walks
the road back to where he saw the box. If he can’t make himself or his
family happy, he can at least try and do one good in this world.
Chanyeol was gone, probably to never come back. But life doesn’t stop
at that, and Baekhyun, deep down, he knows it. He just doesn’t know
how it’s going to be for him from now on, coming to the realization that
Chanyeol is gone.

Just beyond the haze, near the light pole where he’d left the puppy in
the box, he sees a man dressed in black crouching by it. Baekhyun
scowls and approaches the man, who suddenly lifted the puppy and
started to walk ahead, and then scurries after him.

“Hey, you!” he calls out, “stop! That puppy isn’t yours.”

The man grinds to a sudden halt, but doesn’t turn around.

Baekhyun also comes to an abrupt stop, face still scowling. As the haze
of snow and wind ebbs, the broad back of the strange man starts to
seem very familiar. Baekhyun’s lips part and the scowl soon morphs
into something else, something that prompts tears in his eyes.

“Chanyeol?” He calls out again, incredulously, like he still needs to

make sure before jumping to any conclusions.

The man reels around very slowly, the puppy tucked under his black
coat with just its head popping out, whole brown eyes sparkling up at
him.

“You ignored him.”

Baekhyun palms his mouth and his tears break free, streaming down
his blushing cheeks. “What the hell,” he hiccups, “what’ you doing here,
Chanyeol?”

Said man shrugs, “Was running a few errands.”

Baekhyun’s crying face hardens, “for four freaking days?”

Chanyeol pets the puppy’s head and remains silent.

Baekhyun regains his composure and exhales, a long breath of relief. “I

thought you were gone.”

“Obviously, I’m not.” Chanyeol states.

Baekhyun runs his fingers through his hair and flakes of snow slide
down. He takes a step forward, and another and another until he’s
standing a stride length away from Chanyeol. He looks up into his eyes
and then at the puppy. “I came back with the intention to take him with
me.”

Chanyeol only continues to pet the puppy.

Up close, Chanyeol looks like he’s gained a little weight. His complexion
looks better and the one-week old stubble suits him quite a lot. He also
sounds… cheerful? Baekhyun berates himself inwardly for even thinking
that, especially when he doesn’t know where the man has been if not in
the cabin. He watches how Chanyeol’s long fingers brush the puppy’s
fur with the care of a mother. He imagines that tender touch on his hair,
on his body… fuck; he’s going to become hard just thinking about it.

“Chanyeol,” he speaks, gaining the man’s attention immediately. “They

say the storm is not gonna lit up soon, why don’t you come over to my
place?”
Chapter Sixteen

The front door opens with a rattle, and Baekhyun’s hand slides in first,
groping the wall for the switch. He clicks it and steps in, followed by
Chanyeol who is still hugging the puppy to his chest. He kicks his shoes
off and saunters in, now working his jacket open.

“I have a chair pad somewhere,” Baekhyun starts, finally managing to

remove his jacket and hang it on the wall rack. “Let me see if I can find
it.”

Chanyeol remains by the door, eyes searching the apartment.

“You can come in, you know.” Baekhyun scoffs. He shakes his head a
little and disappears inside this place.

Chanyeol takes off his boots and coat, and places the puppy on the
floor. He watches it teeter and totter before finally regaining its balance,
and then he steps in to further inspect the small place. Baekhyun then
appears before him with a gleeful face as he shows him the marine blue
chair pad in his hands.

“Found it in the linen closet.” He reports, now going down to his knees
to lift the puppy. He cradles it and smiles. “It’s a guy, right?”

Chanyeol says nothing which makes Baekhyun look up.

“It’s a he, right?”

Chanyeol nods.

“What do we call you, huh?” He asks the puppy, and then looks up
again at Chanyeol. “I’ve prepared the bathroom for you, I mean if you
want to take a shower.” He trails off, “I’m about to start dinner
preparations, so take your time.”

Chanyeol’s heavy-lidded eyes remain on Baekhyun’s, almost unnerving.

He studies the way Baekhyun’s cheerful face falls and how he slowly
hugs the puppy to him, tighter. He ruffles his hair and brushes past
them.

Realizing the man was taking his advice on taking that shower,
Baekhyun quickly stands erect. “It’s the second door on your left.”

He sprinkles some garlic powder on the two chicken breasts he placed

on the counter earlier, and the sound of water gushing from the shower
head confirms the wonderful fact that Chanyeol wasn’t gone anymore.
It’s almost unbelievable when Baekhyun thinks about it; just a few days
ago he was looking everywhere but couldn’t find the man, now he’s
inside his bathroom. Baekhyun already left his shaving kit and his
clothes in there, praying they’d fit. He did pick the over-sized clothing so
Chanyeol wouldn’t have trouble getting the dark purple sweatshirt past
his head.

It’s wonderful.

Not long ago, he was struggling to find a way to convince Chanyeol to

spend Christmas Eve with him. He didn’t have to anymore. Chanyeol is
here, in his bathroom.
Chanyeol steps out, clean-shaven and dressed properly in Baekhyun’s
clothes that fit him almost too perfectly. The scent of food lures him and
he saunters back to the living room, finding Baekhyun and the puppy on
the former’s sofa, playing. He smiles to himself at the sight but quickly
drops the smile when Baekhyun props up.

“You done?”

Chanyeol nods and nudges his hands into the side pockets of his
sweatpants. “Thanks for letting me use your bathroom.”

Baekhyun shows this strange grin which Chanyeol doesn’t know what to
make of, and shakes his head, “I fixed us some grub,” he notifies, “you
hungry?”

Chanyeol presses his lips together and nods, “I could eat.”

“Great,” Baekhyun picks the puppy again and heads towards the
kitchen, assured the man was following closely by.

At dinner table, Baekhyun doesn’t bring up the bit about the hunters or
how he spent the past three or four days searching for Chanyeol, but he
does initiate the talk with an inquiry.

“So where have you been, if not in the cabin?”

Chanyeol slurps his soup and shrugs a shoulder slightly, “told you.”
“Running errands,” Baekhyun echoes, “Yeah, I heard you the first time.”

Chanyeol picks a portion of the chopped chicken breasts and dumps it

into his mouth. He nods at the puppy suddenly, “Are you going to keep
him?”

Baekhyun’s eyes skid towards the puppy munching meat away, and he
plasters on another vague grin. “I’d love to.”

“What’re you going to name him, then?”

Baekhyun clears his throat. “Dunno,” he said, “was thinking to leave

that up to you, I mean I’m keeping him anyway.”

Chanyeol’s eyes and Baekhyun’s meet and they hold the contact for a
beat.

“Alright,” Chanyeol agrees, but then falls silent as the wheels of his
brains begin a ride to find a moniker.

“I remember Jihoon,” Baekhyun starts, and the way Chanyeol flinches

makes him go pale. “He died for you, you know.”

“I know.” Chanyeol replies, crossly. He leans back on the chair and

wipes his mouth with the napkin. “Thanks for the food.”
Baekhyun nods jerkily, bottom lip caught between two sets of teeth. He
needs to learn when to speak and when to keep fucking quiet. Chanyeol
was back to scowling again and Baekhyun is reeling because the man
might decide to leave, again. He quickly changes the subject so
Chanyeol won’t get even the chance to decide anything.

“How was it?”

Chanyeol folds the napkin and places it near his half empty plate,
“Surprisingly good.”

A broad smile takes over Baekhyun’s lush lips, “I know right,” he said,
“better than your grilled fish.”

Something like a fond smile tugs at Chanyeol’s lip, but he doesn’t let it.
“Maybe.”

Baekhyun looks away and pushes his chair backward, “I’m going to take
a shower now,” he said, “No name here is coming with.”

Chanyeol also pushes his chair rearward and lifts up, “I’ll clean the
table.”

“Put everything in the dishwasher.” He tells him, now laying the golden
retriever on his shoulder.

Chanyeol didn’t seem willing to share his whereabouts for the past few
days, and it’s a good thing Baekhyun didn’t try to pry it out of him.
Although he asked a couple of times, he assumes that isn’t enough to
drive Chanyeol away.

He peels his shirt off, and then moves on to the buckle of his belt.

To be honest, there’s no guarantee that Chanyeol is going to spend the

night over. He looked like with one poke and he’d bolt out as if Hell
hounds were chasing him. He didn’t look comfortable talking to
Baekhyun about anything, except for when they talked about the food
and Baekhyun hardly calls that an achievement. In fact, Chanyeol might
be getting his things to leave right fucking now. He can’t figure him out,
and he can’t bet on chances.

He picks the dog and gets into the tub, sitting inside it and ignoring the
way the water overflows to the floor.

The mere mention of Jihoon chased the color from Chanyeol’s face,
thus his as well. He doesn’t know what he was thinking, maybe he
wasn’t thinking at all. Jihoon died an honorable death, more or less, and
Chanyeol shouldn’t feel any dole about that particular side of his past.
Although Jihoon made mistakes, he tried to wipe the slate clean by
sacrificing himself. Maybe those weren’t mistakes; cleaning after
psychopathic Chanyeol wasn’t a mistake, it was a choice. However, The
man did something good in the end.

Baekhyun splashes some water on his face.

It was stupid to bring up Jihoon. Hey, I have an idea, why don’t you
name the dog after the person who used to clean after your bloody
messes so it’d always keep the reminder alive. How fucking brilliant.
“Ugh.”

Brilliant, just brilliant…

He walks out and the steam stalks after him, along with the scent of
mint and fresh sea minerals. He already bid on finding the apartment
empty, so when he goes into the living room and finds it empty, he
chuckles. Now, that’s what you call a brilliant deduction. He puts the
dog on the chair pad, turns the lights off and heads to his bedroom.

Upon entering the small room, he finds Chanyeol by the nightstand with
a photo frame in his hand. He pauses but eventually rejoices at the fact
that he was wrong about Chanyeol. The man wasn’t so frail, thank God.
He closes the door and steps towards his bed.

“This is your father?”

Baekhyun rounds the bed to stand beside him. He takes the photo
frame from him and eyes it. It’s a family photo of himself, his parents
and Taehyung (because Hongbin was family). “After my return, my
mother decided that we didn’t have enough family photos and forced all
of us into it.”

Chanyeol frowns, “Your return?”

Baekhyun’s heart slams against his chest vigorously. He opens the first
drawer of the nightstand and hides the picture inside to probably hide
the memories as well. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, “it’s all in the past.” He
switches on the light of the lamp and faces the man again. He speaks
after a long pause “thought you left.”
Chanyeol’s dark, mesmerizing pupils start casting their spell, charming
Baekhyun the second their eyes met. “I decided to stay.”

“Yeah?” Baekhyun asks, almost in a moan. “What changed your mind?”

Chanyeol snakes his tongue out, licking his lips. He shrugs lazily and
steps closer to the man, removing the space between them.

Baekhyun gets all dizzy. He rests his hands on Chanyeol’s arms, and
starts sliding them up very slowly. “I’m glad then” he whispers, his
hands finally reaching Chanyeol’s hair. By this point, he is panting hotly,
“So fucking glad.”

Chanyeol ducks and buries his face in Baekhyun’s neck, and the man
throws his head to the back, sighing in pleasure. They fan on the bed,
and for the first time, Chanyeol places himself between Baekhyun’s legs
without ordering him to turn over.

“Oh, fuck!” Baekhyun grunts into Chanyeol’s ear, cutting the continuous
cries and moans. “It’s slamming so deep.”

Chanyeol thrusts into the man beneath at his heart’s content; he

already has Baekhyun’s legs spread and folded to the latter’s chest, so
the process is deep and causes hollow slaps. This is different from their
other times as he can see Baekhyun’s expression, and even allowed it
when the man hugged him.

Baekhyun feels Chanyeol’s dick shoving and drilling deeper with each
thrust and he is about to lose his mind. This is so hot and somewhat
passionate, even the fact that they’re doing it missionary style is making
him all woozy in the head. He moans like a whore fucked by two.

“More, Chanyeol” he begs, “I want to be fucked more by you.”

Chanyeol’s heart flutters because this is also the first time Baekhyun
calls his name during sex. He frames the crown of Baekhyun’s head
with a hand and the other glides under the man, bringing him even
closer as he snaps his hips. He thrusts into him like he’s using an
Onahole. Baekhyun yelps, and moans. Chanyeol bucks up just a little to
watch as Baekhyun’s alluring eyes narrow and his mouth part open, a
whimper tearing from his lungs as he spurts his cum over his chest.

Holy fuck! It’s the best thing Chanyeol’s seen in his life. He darts his
hand to the throbbing but nonetheless relieved cock to milk out the
cum, but Baekhyun rests his hand on his, and he fucking mewls as he
stops him.

“It’s sensitive.” Baekhyun said…, a déjà-vu?

Chanyeol licks his upper lip and realizes the way with which he’s
beholding Baekhyun’s sexed-out expression is like a damn hungry wolf
salivating over its prey –its sexy, sweat-soaked, panting and blushing
prey. He wants to mess him up, squeeze his dick and see how
beautifully he’ll cry. He blows out a ragged breath and rolls his hip to
rub the inside of Baekhyun’s ass.

Baekhyun pouts up at him. He wordlessly returns his hands around

Chanyeol’s neck and locks his ankles behind the man’s back. “It’s okay,
Chanyeol” he says out of no freaking where that it takes Chanyeol a
moment to decipher the meaning, but still fails. “Move already.”
Chanyeol tightens his hold around Baekhyun again and knocks their
foreheads together.

However, they don’t kiss…

Chanyeol, naked and sweaty, sits on the bed in complete darkness. He

glances over at the man sleeping away, and frowns. They had hot
passionate sex. He and Baekhyun, his former captive, the man he used
to torture and rape. He braces his elbows on his knees and drops his
head in his hands, just what in the world is he doing? He so readily
accepted Baekhyun’s invitation, and even crawled into his bed. Just
how messed up is he going to be and how low is he going to bring
Baekhyun until he’s satisfied. He’s a selfish prick and Baekhyun
deserves better, the way he fucking smiles… This is not fair to the man.

“Chanyeol?”

The man snaps out of his reverie and looks over at Baekhyun, finding
him propped up on his elbow, hair standing out in every direction and
bare skin looking so porcelain.

“Did I wake you?” His velvety voice cuts the silence.

“Mm,” Baekhyun shakes his head sluggishly, “is it still snowing?”

Chanyeol faces the window, the only source of light, and nods.
“Merry Christmas, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun’s sleepy voice drones through a
smile.

Chanyeol twists around to face Baekhyun, “Merry Christmas.”

This needs to stop.

~~~~~~

When he woke up, the side of the bed next to his was empty.

Today isn’t Saturday, it’s Wednesday. Baekhyun couldn’t wait a whole

freaking week, especially after the hot night he and Chanyeol shared on
his bed inside his apartment.

He enters the empty cabin and kicks off the boots smeared in snow,
and then he puts the shopping bags on the table.

He doesn’t know Chanyeol’s thoughts on the passionate night they

spent together, or how he feels about it. He isn’t here to find out, either.
He’s here today to… just because, really. He isn’t sure. A part of him just
couldn’t stop the excitement from oozing every time he remembered
Saturday.

He finds the kettle inside the fireplace nested on burning embers,

suggesting that Chanyeol was planning to come back. He sits on the
bed and listens to the silence. Distant chirping and squeaks interrupt
this silence from time to time, but he slowly starts to realize that this
cabin and this silence is a lot like Chanyeol; lonely, cold and
misunderstood. It’s funny how the temperature drop embodies
Chanyeol’s icy cold attitude, and how the burning embers in the
fireplace symbolize the hungry lust he saw in the man’s eyes when he
was fucking him. It’s also funny how the cabin in the woods is eerie at
first glance –something that takes him back to Chanyeol’s first
appearance.

He leans back on the bed sheets and the specks of dust fly off like a
swarm of butterflies disturbed by a breeze. The scent of wood and soil
race to his nostrils, and the touch of sheets fondles his back. He
snuggles on the bed, making soft noises at the scent that fills up his
head with images of Chanyeol’s face inches from his. Deep set eyes
that look into his with kindness and lust.

One of his hands slides under his belt, cupping the tent beneath the
fabric. The other goes to his mouth and he suckles on its back.

Chanyeol’s been living a roller coaster of emotions. He tried going

hunting so it’d take his mind off things, off the way Baekhyun chewed
on his quivering lip desperate and lonely for a touch, the way he
whimpered and sobbed as if Chanyeol was a sex God giving him
intermittent orgasms, the way his eyes glinted whenever their eyes met
and the way he wrapped his limbs around Chanyeol as though holding
on so he wouldn’t drown in pleasure. It became too much at one point
and he couldn’t just sit there and finish To Build a Fire, so he picked his
hunting gear and sauntered out.

He knows Baekhyun kept that habit of coming every Saturday, but he

didn’t count on their last encounter causing a change in the schedule.
As he stands there by the cabin’s front door, he hears moans echoing
off from the inside; Baekhyun’s moans, his hot, sexy moans.

Chanyeol freezes by the doorstep with a hand on the handle.

He listens in, although he knows it’s wrong, he listens in. He hears his
name being called out on a prolonged moan, and no other words can
describe the way with which his stomach vibrates. He’s never even
dreamed of this day where Baekhyun would finally jerk off to him.
Chanyeol frowns. He already decided to stop this but now he is getting
second thoughts, so maybe Baekhyun doesn’t plan on snatching this
away from him after he’s played him well. Maybe Baekhyun
really…loves him? Chanyeol wants to laugh. Baekhyun doesn’t love him,
he can’t. Chanyeol tortured and assaulted him, he gave him nothing but
broken bones and burnt skin and raped ass. These sins, they can’t be
forgotten or forgiven, not by Baekhyun, and not by the history that
Chanyeol is pretty sure will repeat itself if Baekhyun hangs at the cabin
more often.

He reels around and leaves with the spoil of the hunt dangling down
one of his shoulders.

Baekhyun’s irregular panting is the only sound beating the silence as he

lies there, sprawled like a starfish. He sits up with a small groan and
eyes the mess on his hand and his cock, and sighs. It’s a good thing
Chanyeol isn’t here to see the state he’s in. He probably should clean
up and leave and make good of the fact that Chanyeol has no idea he
was here on a freaking Wednesday. Besides, the puppy must be going
crazy at the neighbor’s; poor thing never liked the old scary lady.

He goes back home and prays Chanyeol doesn’t pinpoint the evidence
of him barging into the place when its owner was outside.

On Saturday, just a day away from the New Year eve, Baekhyun buys
presents and a cake which he got a discount on at the bakery
downtown, and heads to the woods. He already left the three-weeks-old
puppy at his coworker’s, the same music teacher who blushes at his
sight.

There’s nothing more beautiful than light snowfall sprinkling on lofty-

armed trees like sawdust. He feels wafts of wind sweeping through the
empty tree lines like a companion in his trek. The path glitters and
crunches beneath his boots. He looks up with clear-blue eyes and finds
the cabin slowly coming into view, so he beams and quickens his pace.

Finally, he’s going to see Chanyeol.

“Hey,” he gushes after entering and finding Chanyeol standing by the

window. He places the bags at the foot of the table and the cake on its
top. “I know it’s a day away, but I couldn’t hold myself when I found
about the discounts.”

Chanyeol unfolds his arms and thrusts his hands into his pockets, and
then, very slowly, turns around.

Baekhyun smiles widely upon seeing the man’s face –his evidently
cross face. “I hope you like vanilla cream.”

“Baekhyun,” just as the words are voiced, said man stills and his beam
dissipates. “I admit I never expected to meet you again, not after what
I’d done to you. But I’ve been telling you over and over, I do not desire
you the way you want me to. The fact that you come here into a place I’d
always considered a sanctuary is really upsetting to me. You’re
threatening my inner peace.” He said, coolly, “There can never be a
thing between you and me. So I’d like you to take your stuff and leave,
and I don’t want you to come back.”
“Okay, random.” Baekhyun scoffs, humorlessly. “Where the fuck did
that come from?”

“From weeks of gritting my teeth and praying you’d someday just stop
showing up.”

Baekhyun simply shrugs. “That’s not going to happen.”

“It will.” Chanyeol says on a shrug of his own, “I’ve already paid my
debts to you, so now I want you to leave.”

“Debts?” Baekhyun cocks his head, and furrows. “You think you can
make up for the things you made me go through?”

“Then I guess there’s no reason for you to come back here.”

“I told you –”

“You want to make me relive the hell I made you go through, yes, you’ve
made that clear plenty of times.” Chanyeol sighs wearily. “I don’t care
about that, or about you.”

Baekhyun’s throat constricts. His arms sag beside his sides, “but…
you’re starting to feel something.”

Chanyeol smirks coldly, “towards you? Yeah, that’s called pity.”

Baekhyun’s lips part and he makes a face.

“The only reason why I agreed to your nonsense was because I felt sorry
for you.” He insists, “Nothing more.”

“But last time” –Baekhyun gulps, in an attempt to hold off his tears–
“we connected…”

Chanyeol barks a laugh, “Are you even listening to yourself?” he snorts

jeeringly, “You gave me a hole to fuck and I did. Don’t come crying to
me if you were easily swayed.” He picks the cake and throws it at the
door, and then the bags, making Baekhyun flinch. “But now I’ve grown
tired of you, so why don’t you do us both a favor and get the fuck out.”

Baekhyun slowly lowers his head which is now drained of any thoughts;
he can’t even feel his legs or the floor he’s standing on. He moves them
eventually and swivels around, vacating the cabin. He feels his chest
tight and his eyelids heavy with unshed tears, mourning in consolation.
He snorts. It’s funny because he’s inconsolable.

He trudges on the snow, heavy steps taking him somewhere; anywhere

but the cabin.

God…

So last time was just Chanyeol fucking a hole? Is that it? Then what was
that glint in his eyes? And why were his arms so gentle? And why the
hell did he hug him back!
His foot hits something and he stumbles down, gazing dazedly at the
lifted root that he tripped over. He’s too worn-out to curse or kick snow
to blow off steam. He’s too tired to get back up on his feet. He frames
his face and cries into his hands, hot tears slithering between his palm
lines.

Chanyeol wasn’t wrong. Baekhyun should have been stronger than that,
shouldn’t have let himself get easily swayed. After all, the only thing that
can be between them is the reminder of a past so ugly. He doesn’t
know why he expected more, and he doesn’t know why it hurts to be
chased off despite the fact that he was brought here by sheer
happiness and excitement. Chanyeol was right. Baekhyun gave him a
hole, and the man used it. He was used yet again, and he was the one
to initiate it which means Chanyeol will most likely not feel remorse.

He hears the bushes at a side rustling, and it delays his feel-sorry-for-

my-self weeping play. He sits upright and he feels the way the cold wind
dries his tears.

“Who’s there?”

A long blood-smeared snout edged by two long and sharp tusks comes
out of the bushes, and Baekhyun’s sadness gets momentarily replaced
by fear because that has to be one of the wild boars those hunters from
the other time were hunting. Obviously, they missed. In a moment so
unpredictable, the boar sprints towards him with his mouth open,
revealing the sharp set of fangs.

Baekhyun regains sensation in his legs and levers up, ready to run. He
finds another angry-looking boar in his path that, also, doesn’t wait for
the startup cue and launches at him. Baekhyun topples to the back and
brings his arms up in front of him, and all his sees through the chaos
consisting of tusks and snow dust and fur is a pair of unforgiving eyes,
and all he hears is the squeal of the boars. He flails his legs and elbows
one of them, but its fang manages to sink in his arm and he whimpers.
He tries to lift up and the momentum gives the other boar a chance to
pierce one of his tusks in Baekhyun’s collar until blood spurts on the
white snow, tainting it.

He almost lets them eat him.

However, thinking back on the days of hell he survived and of his family
believing in him enough to let him come here unescorted gifts him with
more strength and, in a wonderful moment, he manages to push the
boars off him and dart forward. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the
woods and facing the main road. He wobbled to his knees when the
blood loss finally caught up to him. Then radiant headlights speed
towards him in a haste and that’s the last thing he sees before fainting
to the tarred ground.

Baekhyun rises to consciousness with a soft groan, and aside from the
intermittent beeps and the muffled voices, he feels a dull and piercing
pain in his neck and upper arm, preventing any deep thoughts. He
slowly opens his eyes and grunts at the assaulting beams overhead. He
feels a faint weight on his left arm and the side of his neck from where
the pain is radiating. The beeping returns and he looks away from the
ceiling, letting his head loll to the side. He opens his bleary eyes
properly and sees a metal pole hooked horizontally on his bed. He hears
another muffled voice as if coming from underwater and turns to it,
finding his father hovering atop him with worry marring his face.

He frowns up at his father, who is mouthing something which he can’t

hear, and he groans in protest and forces his eyes close.

“Hurts…” the voice said, “Call the nurse…”

“Wha…?” Baekhyun breathes out lazily, he faces away and tries to sit
up, but agonizing pain flares up in his left side and he cries out. His
bearings come intact and he draws his legs to his chest and curls up on
his side, nursing his injured arm.

“Son,” his father’s voice returns, cool and confident. “Try not to move
too much. I already called in the nurses.”

Baekhyun gasps because his brief moment of semi-lucidity is now being

overtaken by tremors of pain. He shuts his eyes again, tears roll down
as though aiming to win a race. “Hurts…”

The beeping grows and the world of beaming fluorescent lights swirls
and darkens at the edges.

“I know” his father said, now combing his greasy, sweat-filled hair with
his callous fingers. “They’re gonna be here soon.” He soothes and,
miserly, watches how his son caves to oblivion.

He was in his office singing papers and hoping the rest of the day would
stay the same, no urgent calls of duty, but alas, he was wrong. His
personal phone started ringing and he frowned at the 3-digit number
because that’s usually a sign of something bad. He connected the call
and didn’t need to hear the rest when the woman on the other end of
the line had brought up hospital, your son and immediately.

He took sick leave and rushed out, to Yocheon, and was there in less
than an hour which, according to him, is record time. Now that he thinks
of it, he must have broken too many of traffic laws that the KNPA would
bury itself underground if this ever gets out. But the moment that nurse
lady blurted out his son’s name and that he was hurt, logic became a
thing of debate. He was then taken into a room soon after they had his
son out of ICU and settled in room 34. He can’t deny the good
mannerism with which he was manhandled, but he guesses his uniform
is to thank for that.

He had been sitting on a chair by Baekhyun’s bedside, and noticed how

his son started to stir and groan. He knows his son and he knew he was
going to start moving a lot soon. Indeed, moments and the nurses had
to be rushed in. They came in and gave his son a sedative and some
morphine to help him rest, and the doctor went on about the surgery
again and its effects and possible rehabilitation, which, really? He didn’t
have the spirit to hear out so he dismissed the doctor until his son was
awake. The doctor, thankfully, was very understanding and left after
tapping his shoulder in consolation.

Now, as he sits there eyeing his son’s battered body, he starts to

ponder the story he was told: It seems that Baekhyun got attacked
inside the woods by a couple of boars, and then almost hit by a car on
the edge road separating the woods and the town, which leaves him
with a plethora of questions. Why was his son inside the woods? What
was he doing outside school, considering the fact that the attack
happened between six and seven, and working hours end at ten?

He sighs and scrubs his face. It seems that he’s grown a few gray hairs
over this. The only way he can get answers is for Baekhyun to wake up
and start talking again.

The morning is always cold these days, sometimes even nippy that it
becomes intolerable. Chanyeol has become used to it, though, and he
doesn’t find it as irritating as he used to when he first occupied the
cabin.
He washes his face with the water he left boiling inside the fireplace,
and finally faces the broken mirror. The endless eyes looking back at
him make him nauseous so he looks away, and finally vacates the
confined space. Outside, he observes the mess he made and he knows
he was out of line with that, but Baekhyun wouldn’t have believed his
act otherwise. He goes to clean off the cream so it wouldn’t attract ants,
and accidentally finds a folded paper that must have fallen from one of
the bags Baekhyun brought with him. He is crouched. He opens the
piece of paper and reads it silently.

[I want to overcome our past together, and I believe that what we’re
starting to have is capable of making the impossible possible. Happy
New Year, Chanyeol.]

He rakes his fingers through his hair and breathes out a heavy sigh.
Thinking back on how dejected and broken Baekhyun had looked,
saying those things might have not been the best thing to do. He went
through so much trouble and the genuine look of sorrow on Baekhyun
makes him regret the whole thing all the way to his bones. He crunches
the paper and hugs it to his face. Gosh, what has he done? Baekhyun
didn’t deserve that, and he didn’t deserve to be chased out like some
fucking beggar.

On the other hand, this is for the best.

He finished repairing a couple of antique chairs yesterday and he needs

to take them out of the rented garage and return them today so he can
get his wage. He has things he needs to buy: the jaws of his bear trap
have started to dull, so he needs to renew it. The hook keeper of his
finishing rod broke a couple of days ago. He needs new socks as well.

He wears his coat and treks the direction he lead Baekhyun through the
other time. With his hands in his side pockets, Chanyeol finds it easy to
dawdle and just behold the white coat covering the trees and the road.
And as he ventures further into the woods, this nagging buzzing
prompts him. He knows wild boars tend to become territorial during
mating season, so the idea of some poor animal disemboweled by a
raging sounder of hogs preparing to complete for breeding rights is not
that far-fetched. Indeed, just a few feet away, he finds puddles of blood
huddled in one area: there obviously has been some sort of a struggle.
He waves before his face to fend off the flies and hurriedly scurries
away.

He sells the first chair and receives money for it without a word
exchanged, other than the gushing compliments the old man makes
about the beautiful carvings. Then he goes to sell the second and this
old lady is quite chatty in her dealings, and he bears with it for the
money.

“I’d have waited more, sweetheart.” She starts, “it’s dangerous now in
those woods, a guy got mauled last night by a few hogs.”

That piqued his curiosity and he found himself glaring details from her.

“Like I said,” she says on a hum as she examined the repaired chair,
“He was whisked to hospital last night. Rumors have it that the young
man was being chased, and I also heard he got mauled pretty badly by
wild pigs. I keep telling them those boars will eventually kill someone,
they’re becoming a damn epidemic.”

Chanyeol doesn’t know any men who are crazy enough to be in those
woods, especially with the threat of rampaging hogs still fresh, but he
does know Baekhyun. He also knows that he chased the man outside
around six or seven… The pieces fall together and Chanyeol pales. The
nausea hits him again and he doubles over, expelling the contents of
his stomach. He ignores the way the old lady coos over him, he doesn’t
trust people’s worry anymore, and he waves it off as bad ingestion. He
eventually takes his money and clears her way.

So Baekhyun was rushed to the hospital last night –he stops in his
tracks and glowers at the dirty road– Does this mean the blood he saw
earlier in the road was Baekhyun’s? Was he really attacked by boars?
When he was warm inside the cabin, reading a fucking book, was
Baekhyun being mauled to death?

His legs commence moving again, leading him to the only ER in town.
He manages to charm info out of a petite nurse who guides him to room
34 in a different ward in which the only patient named Baekhyun is. He
nods to her when she tells him to take his time since visiting hours
weren’t over until late in the afternoon. He walks in after peering inside
and finding it clear of anyone other than the man sleeping on the bed.

Baekhyun’s head is tilted towards the other side, and there are a few
scratches and cuts on his hands and face. His left arm is in a black
sling and the entire left side of his collar is swathed in gauze. He looks
pale that Chanyeol can actually see the blue veins underneath his skin.
Dark circles surround his eyes that it literally looks like bruising.

It was really Baekhyun the victim of the animal attack.

Chapter Seventeen

“Happy new year, buddy!” Hongbin’s voice blares off the laptop
Baekhyun's father placed on the over-bed table. “Wish you a quick
recovery first” –Baekhyun smiles fondly at that– “and to be happy and
successful in all phases of life.”

“Thanks, bro.” He tells him in his moderate voice, “I wish you the same,
and even more.”

“They’re letting me stay this late because it’s a special night, but same
rules still apply to everyone,” the father tells his son’s friend, “so I’m
gonna go offline, we’ll talk more when I get there.”

“Okay,” Hongbin mumbles, “sorry I can’t be there, my boss is a bit

bloody-headed.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Baekhyun smiles again despite the bruises and
cuts scattered on his face. “We’ll talk again later on phone.”

He watches how his father closes the laptop and lifts his coat off the
backrest of his chair.

“I should go now,” he opines to his son, “I’ll see if they can discharge
you soon.”

Baekhyun nods.
His father’s eyes linger on his before they narrow, “You sure you don’t
want to talk about it?”

Baekhyun deciphers the hint and rolls his eyes, “Dad, I told you,” he
whines, “I was jogging, and I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.”

His father compresses his lips together; that sounded a lot like a
smarmy, unctuous reply, but he goes along with it and nods. He pecks
on his son’s forehead and finally leaves after turning the light off.

With his father finally gone from the room, Baekhyun’s head falls back
on the pillow and he lets out a somnolent sigh. It’s exhausting when you
have to tell a lie after a lie while trying to keep a straight face. He knows
he shouldn’t have, especially not to his father, but it’s not like he can
open with a ‘hey, you can’t guess who I met in the woods after four
years; it’s the same guy who tortured and raped me for months’, who,
also, kicked him out of the cabin on the premise to never show his mug
again.

Baekhyun falls silent and still. The lines on his face quirk and soon he’s
scowling into the darkened room. He can sit up now without feeling the
need to hurl his lungs out, so with his healthy hand, he peels off the
quilt. He swings his legs outside the bed and gives himself a moment as
the room started swirling in his vision, and then he shambles to the
bathroom, wincing every time he moves wrong and agitates his wounds.

It seems that the boars’ tusks left him with quite the damage, almost
popped open his jugular but he was lucky they missed. It left his skin
open though across his collar and neck, and the area around his elbow
was crazed open as well. It looked ugly. He was told that the doctor
managed to sew him up and that the surgery was a success.
He checks himself in the mirror and scowls again: there are raw bruises
under his eyes, cuts and scratches over his face and his knuckles. His
left arm is in a sling, dangling down his chest. There’s gauze wrapped
around his chest and the side of his neck. He is, all in all, a huge
fucking mess. He is glad, though, because, besides the gashes on his
arm and neck, he seems to have escaped fairly lightly. It’d have been
worse, way worse.

He returns to his bed after he’s relieved himself, and unwanted

thoughts start to swarm up in his head, reminding him of what had gone
down a couple of nights ago before he was rushed to the ER.

He is going to think hard about this, and then he’ll decide what the best
course of action should be.

“You sure you don’t want me to call someone?”

Baekhyun shakes his head for the second time today as his father kept
prepositioning he calls a caretaker or a nurse come and help out since
his arm is, well, out of commission, but Baekhyun keeps declining. He
jerks his hand from his grey jacket and nears the car his father is now
stepping away from to hug his son.

“I’ll be fine, dad.” He assures the man.

“What about that music teacher who came to see ya a couple ‘times?”
There’s a playful smile on his lips which Baekhyun finds utterly
outraging.
He rolls his eyes and can’t help but chuckle, “For the second time, dad,
she’s just a coworker.” He grumbles, “And she’s already keeping my dog
with her, that’s plenty of help.”

“Alright, son.” He acquiesces on an assigned and tired nod.

“Tell Hongbin not to worry too much.”

His father wants nothing but to curl his face into an accusatory frown
and force his say, but he knows Baekhyun hasn’t been having a lot of
any of his own in what happened, so he decides to give him the option
to decline if he wanted. He doesn’t know if his best buddy –whom he
knows is as overprotective as he is– would make the same concession,
though. Well, he’ll have to suck it up. Baekhyun is a grown man.

“Take care of yourself, son.” He says and finally yanks the door of the
driver’s side open to get in.

Baekhyun keeps the amiable smile plastered on as he watches his

father get into the vehicle and turn the ignition on. His father salutes
him and then brings the car into motion as it slides away, rear lights
flickering. Baekhyun feels the drop in temperature as the faint snow
keeps falling, so he returns his hand back into the pocket of his
insulated jacket and reels around, ready to walk back into the building.

“Baekhyun…”

Said man halts and whips around, finding Chanyeol in one of the
jackets he had bought for him before he was kicked out, top of his hair
and shoulders covered in snow. He sends the man a perplexed scowl
and changes the position of his head so that now is half tilting.

Chanyeol steps towards him in deliberately long and confident strides,

he grinds to a stop when they’re a few inches apart. He takes in all of
Baekhyun: His arm that is supposed to be hanging down his chest but
now tucked under the jacket, the recovering bruises blighting his pale
skin with purplish shades, and the small cuts scattered under his cheek
and the corner of his lovely lips.

“What,” Baekhyun snorts, but there’s no humor in his tone. “Here to

finish the job?”

Chanyeol hardens his glare, but remains silent and his silence
translates as ‘apparently, I don’t have to’ since he’s beholding
Baekhyun’s injuries with searching eyes.

Baekhyun swallows his irritation, or what’s left of it because it seem it

has all dissipated the moment he heard the man’s voice. He deflates in
on himself and sighs, “Whatever, dude,” he said, “what do you want?”

“To talk.” Chanyeol deadpans.

Oh great. So now he wants to talk? Is there a point here being delivered

that Baekhyun can’t see or what?

“About?” He demands.
“You’re gonna invite me in or what?” Chanyeol rumbles in his deep
voice.

How arrogant.

Baekhyun faces away for a second, regarding the fog-enveloped town

and then switches to look at the man, now ushering with his head for
him to follow.

It really looks like the roles have been reversed.

For the second time in the same month, Chanyeol finds himself seated
in Baekhyun’s living-room and surrounded by bouquets of flowers and
colorful ‘get better soon’ balloons. There’s no sight of the puppy and
Chanyeol wonders what came of the little dog, it’d actually sadden him
if it turns out Baekhyun gave him up for adoption or something. He
schools himself with admonishments to at least give the man the
benefit of the doubt because he still recalls how persistent and almost
resolute Baekhyun was about keeping the dog.

The said man had volunteered to make some tea despite his injury, and
had refused any offers of assistance. Chanyeol told him he didn’t want
anything, just a glass of water, to which Baekhyun jeered at and hence
the tea preparation.

A few minutes later, Baekhyun comes with a tray and two cups from
which teabags are hanging. He puts everything on the coffee table
between them and sits on the sofa across Chanyeol. The latter lifts his
cup and starts dipping the tea bag into the boiled water.
He remembers his trip to Seorak Mountain with his departed father
eleven years ago, what was really beautiful about the climb, aside from
the scenery and the delight which follows the achievement of finally
reaching the peak, is the silence he could hear during the hike. This
silence in the room right now reminds him of that time.

“How’s the arm?” He asks after placing the cup back on the table.

Baekhyun has removed his jacket at the door very carefully but
apparently Chanyeol busted him wince a couple of times. Adding to
that, Chanyeol didn’t ask what happened, which tells Baekhyun he
either knows or he simply doesn’t care. However, Chanyeol asking if the
arm is fine sparks the wheel of hope in him again. So maybe he does
care a little, and Chanyeol also must know about the boar attack since
his father made sure to leave strict orders around for the boars to be
put down, and the fact that he’s receiving get-well items from everyone
he knows in this town. He shrugs his uninjured shoulder, “fine,” he said,
“just a few scratches,” huge fucking understatement, “should be fine in
a few days.”

Chanyeol rests his elbows on his thighs and twines his finger. He nods
and still remains silent, wow, wasn’t he the one who said he wanted to
talk? Why is he making Baekhyun uncomfortable for it?

Baekhyun is obviously a lot weaker than he’s letting on, and with the
busted arm and the words of ridicule still fresh in memory, Chanyeol
isn’t really sure anymore that coming here for the confession of his life
was the wisest thing to do.

“Chanyeol, look,” the small, almost weak voice surprises said man and
he finds himself looking up at the man on command. “I’ve been giving
this some thought, and I want you to hear me out.” Serious thought,
actually, and he lost sleep a couple of nights because of this so he isn’t
going to let the chance slip, it’s now or never. “Back at the hospital, I
finally had time to think and I realized I’ve been wrong.” Baekhyun
starts, his healthy hand fiddling with the bandage on his wounded arm.
The rueful expression tenderizes and his brows tremble, “I should’ve
listened to you when we met again after four years and you told me to
go back. I should have turned around and left.” His voice falls even
fainter, “I was the one who went back against your warning, that’s why,”
he lets his hand fall to his lap. This is it. He’s going to get it off his chest.
“That’s why none of this is your fault.”

Chanyeol wants to cut the man off, tell him to stop because this isn’t
what he’s been planning to make the man admit, isn’t the kind of
reaction he wished to elicit from him, but the wave of genuine distress
emanating from the brunet still takes him by surprise.

“Even what happened four years ago,” Baekhyun feels the lids of his
eyes burn as tears start to well up, “that wasn’t your fault, Chanyeol.”

The man’s jaw slacks.

“You were a victim, too.” He insists, “You were being manipulated and
we were ambushed, Hannah is to blame for all of this.”

Then they fall –his tears…

Chanyeol watches how Baekhyun’s lips tremble as more tears stream

down his battered face.

“I’m no different from her,” he suddenly sobs, “Although you isolated

yourself, I kept going back, making you relive the nightmares and the
things you wished to forget.” He snivels with more tears spill from his
beautiful, almond-shaped eyes. “I never realized that by making you
sleep with me, you were hurting.” He lowers his head to cry more,
plentiful tears landing on his lap. “I’ve been hurting you this whole
time.”

Chanyeol’s mind is completely blank and his sense of unease grows.

He’s been planning to get down on his hands and knees and bawl his
sorry. Heck, he’s been ready to receive rejection no matter how it came,
but the things he’s been preparing to say ever since he decided to
confess to Baekhyun are all gone now. The sight of Baekhyun blaming
himself and crying for his sake and saying the most unassuming
things… just how good-hearted is he going to continue to be? Chanyeol
can’t fall any deeper, God damn.

Baekhyun’s sniffs and sobs finally start to ebb bit by bit. He takes in a
deep shaky breath and looks up, now letting out a huge sigh. “That’s
why, um, I know it’s not gonna be easy but I’ve decided to not go back
to the cabin.”

Chanyeol’s face draws into a deep frown again, his stomach

somersaulting inside at the news.

“I don’t want to hurt you again.” Baekhyun swipes at his nose with the
back of his sleeve and sniffles. “It’s just… it’s hard, you know, seeing
you and Hongbin move on while I’m the only one still stuck in the past.”
He smiles sadly like he’s dismissing everything that has happened till
now and, that in its own, wipes half of his life. “But it’s fine, I’ll learn
how to move on and staying in this town will help.” He says, and adds,
“Besides, I like it here.”

Chanyeol slowly lowers his head, thinking that’s the end of Baekhyun’s
tirade, it isn’t.
“These cuts can’t possibly hurt like how your heart is hurting,” tears are
announcing another war again that Baekhyun needs to overcome, and
remembering the times he caused the man unnecessary heartache
makes him lose the battle. “I’m sorry.” He sobs, “I’m so sorry. I
shouldn’t have imposed, shouldn’t have invaded your privacy and I
apologize for that.”

Chanyeol waits, but Baekhyun’s sobs don’t come to an end.

“Baekhyun,” he starts with a tone of final resolution. “Every time we had

sex, you’d nibble at the back of your hand.” He says, “You ever
noticed?”

Baekhyun scowls in bare confusion.

Chanyeol lifts up, all decided, and sits besides Baekhyun. He faces the
man and switches to look from his eyes to his lips, “wanna kiss?”

“I did not say all that to get your pity.” Baekhyun said, defiantly.

Chanyeol chews on his bottom lip, which trembles nonetheless. He

looks fleetingly down, allowing his tears to break free –something he
hasn’t done in years. “Forgive me, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun finally deciphers the meaning. The kiss offer was probably a
goodbye present; well, he did say he wasn’t planning on returning to the
cabin again. He never thought it out, but this certainly hurts. He doesn’t
want to part from this man, it’s utterly illogic. His shoulders rock as he
cries again, torrents of tears showing no sign of stopping.
Chanyeol rests their foreheads together and cries, too.

Baekhyun nods because, despite the cruelty of it, he’ll grow used to his
decision some day, and he smiles benignly because, unlike their first
separation, he is glad he and Chanyeol will part ways without grudges.
“Okay, okay.” He breathes out, “Life is too big, Chanyeol, and we’re too
small. Let’s not waste what we’ve left to live on the past.”

Chanyeol licks his lips and remains still, his eyes now slowly parting
open to hold contact with Baekhyun’s.

“It’s ironic, silly and even stupid.” Baekhyun words through an innocent
beam that is filled with nothing but compassion and something which
the other man can’t really define. “But it seems I’m lovelorn.”

Chanyeol feels as though something just unleashed a swarm of

butterflies inside his stomach, he can’t even hear the tick-tock of the
plain wall clock inside Baekhyun’s living room anymore. His pupils roam
in Baekhyun’s, staring into the burst of feelings making the man’s eyes
glint like the Sirius before dusk.

“I love you, Chanyeol.” With every inch of his own battered soul…

Just one more time and Chanyeol will develop fucking asthma because
his breath is taken away. The way Baekhyun’s silvery voice utters the
words he’s never imagined someone would tell him at his face, much
less Baekhyun himself –the man he’s been planning to confess to but
knowing their past continued to chicken out for. He feels his brows
tremble and meet across his forehead, and for a moment, he closes his
eyes before he loses himself in Baekhyun’s eyes.
Like some emotionally-constipated asshole, Chanyeol has always
evaded having to expound on unnecessary details and parts of himself,
and it causes him a slight twinge of irritation when he has to succumb
to heart-to-hearts and just deal with all the fucking words. He forces
himself to speak though because he owes Baekhyun that much.

“For four fucking years… I’ve been trying to get you out of my head.”

Baekhyun tries to make out Chanyeol’s face through his blurred vision,
but all he sees is the man’s outline. The expressed words make him
dizzy, and he holds off all motions because Chanyeol better not be
joking.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wished you were dead, because that way I
wouldn’t be able to hurt you if we ever met again.” He said, now
pressing his lips to hold off his own tears. “I’m scared, Baekhyun. Every
time I try to do something good, it just backfires.”

Baekhyun hiccups but remains attentive to the words he never, ever,

imagined he’d hear, from Chanyeol.

“I’ve done horrible things to people; hypnosis or not, it doesn’t change

the fact that I’ve ended lives, your friends’ included.” He sighs shakily,
like a fucking kid tired of wailing. “But for some reason, I couldn’t get
you out of my head. I tried for years, trust me; you’re just always there.”

Baekhyun brings his hand to Chanyeol’s cheek and cups it, and he feels
the way Chanyeol immediately relaxes at the contact, “I won’t forgive
you if you’re saying this because you’re feeling sorry.”
Chanyeol’s eyes snap open, “Fuck no.” He seethes, “I don’t care about
nightmares or guilt anymore.” He says and scoots a little closer, “I want
to spend the rest of my life with you, Baekhyun. I’ll go crazy if you
disappear again.”

“That should be my line, you bastard.” Baekhyun chuckles charmingly.

Chanyeol permits the smile that tugs next at his lips, and then frowns
again. “Us being together is going to bring stuff up, stuff we’re still trying
so hard to forget about.” He said, “It might become unbearable, and
sad and lonely –”

But Baekhyun is already shaking his head, “Don’t care,” he said, now
framing the side of Chanyeol’s neck, “not after I got you to say the
magic words.”

“That was you.”

“You’re the one who’ll go crazy if I disappear,” Baekhyun teases, now

resting their foreheads together, just staying like that, etching the
memory into his head, absorbing its magic. He talks again only when
he’s ready to move on. “By the way, what was that about my habit
during sex?”

Against himself, Chanyeol smiles like a man drunk in love. “Wanna try
kissing?”
Baekhyun’s playful smile falls, and is suddenly overtaken by a mad rush
and pure arousal. He leans in, keeping his forehead pressed against
Chanyeol’s, and says quietly, “yeah, I do.”

“Yeah?” Chanyeol asks, breathlessly. He still shifts a little to a more

comfortable position. “How badly?”

Baekhyun feels Chanyeol’s breath on his lips that almost sets his moan
free. “So fucking bad.”

In a moment so slow, Chanyeol leans forward that final inch and

presses his mouth against Baekhyun’s –it’s electrifying. He feels the
way Baekhyun melts. The way Baekhyun’s hand is threading through his
hair is fucking amazing. He seizes the chance to apply everything he’s
learned in his fantasies on Baekhyun, pressing and sucking and biting,
and Baekhyun is soon unable to stifle the lewd moans.

He pulls away just a tiny bit, to see if Baekhyun wants this to go on, and
the crease across the man’s forehead and the swollen lips and the
drugged look in his eyes makes Chanyeol rejoice and smirk. So he
connects their lips again. Baekhyun devours his mouth like it’d cause
him physical pain if they pull away and Chanyeol agrees wholeheartedly.
He rests a hand on Baekhyun’s knee, parting it from its twin, the other
goes to his cheek, just palming the flushed skin.

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun moans with bated breath.

Chanyeol mumbles a fervent ‘your tongue’ and it’s all Baekhyun needs
to part his lips and offer himself, Chanyeol plunges his tongue inside
the man’s mouth and flaps it on Baekhyun’s, enjoying the soft noises he
makes. He moves that hand he has on Baekhyun’s cheek to the side of
his bandaged neck, and accidently presses on the wound that
Baekhyun can’t help but let out a prolonged whimper. Chanyeol’s cock
throbs at the sound and he lifts up a little to grind against Baekhyun’s
bulge, pushing his leg far apart.

Baekhyun’s head becomes faint and he fans back on the headrest of

the couch they’re sitting on, and he appreciates the break Chanyeol
gives his lungs after pulling from the kiss, making his chest heave as he
pants shallowly. His slightly opened eyes allow more tears free.
Chanyeol licks his upper lip, swallowing his and Baekhyun’s drool. He
allows him only a moment’s leeway before he eats up his lips greedily
again, grinding against the man’s cock protected by the fabric of his
jeans.

“Umm...” Baekhyun mewls into the kiss, silently begging for some relief
as he slides his hand to the button of his jeans, fiddling with it
fanatically.

Chanyeol smacks his hand away so he can roughly snake his hand
down and unbutton it himself, but keeps his mouth on Baekhyun’s. He
unzips the chain and unfurls the waistband of Baekhyun’s boxers, and
his cock springs free, covered in precum that has already left darkened
spots on the crotch area of his jeans. Baekhyun also works Chanyeol’s
jeans open and takes out the angry-looking cock in his hand, sighing
into the kiss at the sensation. Chanyeol interrupts the kiss to press their
foreheads against each other again and looks down through the little
space between their chests, blowing out hot breath on Baekhyun’s lips.

Baekhyun looks up at the man topping him with bleary, watery eyes and
the way the man grunts hotly makes his cock spill more precum. Their
wet breaths mix and their sighs are then overtaken by the slippery
sound their cocks make at the first touch.
“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun keens, urgently.

Apparently, Chanyeol gets it so he rubs their cocks together.

They both start making audible noises, Chanyeol grunts and Baekhyun
moans sweetly. He clings to the man with his healthy hand, desperate
and shaking and Chanyeol can’t find it in him at the moment to murmur
soft assurances because he’s rooting for another sound of pain. He’s
weird in the head and he knows that without anyone having to voice it
out for him, but he hopes Baekhyun won’t deny him this. To attest that,
he wraps a hand on Baekhyun’s neck and squeezes a little, the man
chokes at that, dreading it for a second as he glares up at him with
something akin to shock. Chanyeol stops, attempting to effectively pull
his hand away but Baekhyun is soon aborting the action.

“It’s okay.” He figured what Chanyeol was doing, and although it freaks
him out a little bit, he still marvels at the fact that he has no qualms
with getting choked by Chanyeol, God, only Chanyeol. “Fuck…. I want it”

Chanyeol delights inwardly and squeezes his clasp on the already

injured neck, enjoying the choked and pained noises Baekhyun is
making, the moans as well because Chanyeol hasn’t forgotten to rub
their cocks together. The slick and wet sounds turn Baekhyun on more
than anything else.

Something warm seeps into Chanyeol’s hand and he looks down, from
the ecstasy and the absolute rapture, at the blood soaking the gauze.
He eyes Baekhyun’s face overtaken by utter bliss and decides not to
stop. He is fucking sexy like this: covered in precum and blood and
sweat… Chanyeol will pinch himself later to make sure this isn’t just
another fantasy, but for now he’ll swallow the sight in and relish every
angle of it.
Not long and they’re both coming, and while Chanyeol reigns in the
stifled moan, Baekhyun all but whimpers wantonly.

He sits up properly and unclasps his hand from Baekhyun’s neck, and
falls in awe at the sight of crimson staining his palm. His eyes flit to
Baekhyun’s neck and the mess he created. Said man props his head
up, bleary eyes falling on his.

He grunts at first, “There’s that look on your face again”

Chanyeol nibbles at his bottom lip and lowers his head, “I should’ve had
more self-restraint.”

“You’re a real idiot, anyone told you that before?” Baekhyun wonders.

“You look more the type.” He counters, “answer is no.”

Baekhyun half smirks, “listen” he starts, now sitting up as well while

cupping the side of his neck. “If I didn’t want it I’d have punched your
guts.”

“I can’t promise it’s gonna stop.” Chanyeol warns with a faint voice.

Baekhyun looks apologetic, “how silly” he said, “who said anything

about me wanting it to stop.”

Chanyeol’s lips part open, “You really mean it?”

Baekhyun presses his lips together cutely and shrugs, “guess we’re
both weird in the head.”

Chanyeol scoffs and looks down for a moment, “You’re the real idiot.”

Baekhyun kicks him slightly, “and in need of your surgical skills, doc.”
He drawls, “You reopened my stitches, you bastard.”

For the first time, Chanyeol doesn’t really feel insulted.

Chanyeol has just finished taping the bandage across Baekhyun’s

shoulder and neck when someone knocks on the latter’s door. They
both prompt up and stare at each other before Baekhyun slouches with
a brazen roll of his blue eyes.

“It must be Violet, the music teacher at the school I work at.” He
informs, now slowly struggling to rise up. He feels secretly grateful when
Chanyeol reaches over and winds his arm around his back to help him
up. “I kept the dog at hers, now she’s probably here to give him back.”

It’s a good thing Chanyeol had the good grace in him to clean him
before he commenced stitching him up, otherwise he’d have had to
explain things the sweet music teacher would never comprehend.

“Man, I’m not so ready for this.” He starts a litany of mumbles to

himself and his eyes dart to the doorway, like something might crawl
out of it and eat him.
Chanyeol falls silent as he takes in the other man’s change in
demeanor. He’s not as in tune so it takes him a moment, but he
manages to put the pieces together as to what exactly is getting
Baekhyun so worked up.

“’She your girlfriend?”

Baekhyun twirls his way with a look of distinct shock, “What. No.” He
denies, almost too quickly, “I mean, she did confess a couple’ days ago,
but I still haven’t given her my answer.”

“Want me to head her off?”

“No, don’t.” Baekhyun lifts his good arm to ward off the offer –the very
tempting offer. Last thing he needs is dealing with troublesome
feelings, and although he appreciates her and her lovely feelings, he
thinks it’s troublesome if it isn’t his mess to clean up. He isn’t saying
she’s the problem, obviously he’s the one with a problem here, but
she’s in the wrong place and the wrong time. “She might want to come
in, though, so, brace yourself.”

Chanyeol arches his bows slightly in a manner that suggested he wasn’t

looking forward to it. He also watches how Baekhyun returns the sling
around his back and leads himself to the main direction of the front
door.

Baekhyun peers through the peephole and finds the brunette dressed
in a floral coat and holding the puppy to her chest. He cringes. He
absolutely has no idea how he can send her back without sounding like
an asshole or downright condescending. He opens the door and she
meets his grimace with a smile.
“Hi,” he greets, faintly.

“Hey,” she greets back, now showing him the squirming puppy. “Gosh,
he’s so excited to see you.”

Baekhyun takes him from her and hoists him up over his good shoulder,
and the puppy starts licking up his face and making small, husky barks.

“He was getting restless so I decided to bring him back to you,” she
informs, “How’re you feeling, by the way?”

Baekhyun nods tiredly so she can pick up on the fatigue making him
slouch; she probably does because, next thing, she’s frowning with
worry.

“You sure?” she inquires, “Not to be rude but you really don’t look
good.”

Baekhyun doesn’t feel good either, to be honest. During the time

Chanyeol was stitching up the gash on his neck, he took antibiotics and
those kick in really fast, and render him dizzy and nauseous. And not to
mention the blood he’s lost after the fucker Chanyeol reopened his
stitches. He picks the puppy from his middle and gently flings him to the
floor before he could topple and empty his stomach on his fur, and he
groans when the floor and the door spin in his vision.

The lady’s hands are soon rushing to keep him up, but another pair of
novel hands beat hers to Baekhyun’s middle, and the man is soon lifted
up by Chanyeol. She boggles at him because, obviously, he’s just ruined
her chance to be helpful, and so she frowns.

“Who are you?”

He pays her no mind and pinches Baekhyun’s chin up so their eyes can
meet, and the glazed pupils tell him that if he draws the support away,
Baekhyun will not even care about sleeping beside the front door, on
the floor. He hears the music teacher babble on about something and
it’s fucking annoying, and without meaning to, he whips his face to her
direction with a scathing glare that causes her to recoil. Go for polite, he
tells himself, even though all he wants to do is cut her jugular for
plotting to weave her cobs on what’s his –it’s pure, unadulterated
jealousy. “Thanks for bringing Snowy. You need anything?”

She cautiously shakes her head, keeping the look in her eyes wide and
wary. Something about the strange man makes the hairs in her nape
stand, and it’s deterring.

“Alright, then” he tells her, now getting a hold of the door handle with
his other hand, “Goodbye.” He slams the door shut and doesn’t feel an
ounce of guilt about it. He only wakes up from his angry trance when
Baekhyun goes limp in his arms.
Chapter Eighteen

“Mm…” Baekhyun moans into Chanyeol’s mouth. He’s spread naked on

Chanyeol’s bed, there’s still gauze wrapped around his neck and around
his left upper arm. He squirms, rolling his hips and causing the semen
Chanyeol’s cock spurted inside him to spill out.

Chanyeol presses his mouth harder against Baekhyun’s full, plush lips,
causing the man another shudder. When he pulls away, still propped on
his elbow and looking down at the dazed man, he smirks. “You really
like kissing.”

Baekhyun shakes himself out of his daze and registers the blush on his
cheek, “what of it?”

Chanyeol shrugs a shoulder, “just saying.”

Baekhyun’s glinting eyes take in all of the other man’s face, bare
hunger and love on his own. He stares at his cherry red lips as though
they’d weave a spell to enchant him, and he guesses the deep kisses
are the enchantment.

Chanyeol’s eyes flick from Baekhyun’s to his up-curled, plump lips. The
cuts have almost healed and the formerly-pronounced bruising is just a
shade of fading colors now, they’re only visible in the waning or
sunlight. Baekhyun is slowly regaining color in his face again which is a
relief. His eyes always glint and Chanyeol slowly feels like he’s being
hypnotized… something close to fury flares up in his dark stare and he
glowers, and it immediately scares Baekhyun.
“What?”

Shit, will he ever get over the past and over the fact that he was
hypnotized –he wants the word to hold only positive connotations from
now on.

Baekhyun knows how good the other man is at dissembling, more than
he is, but the fact that he’s just outright shown his… whatever the heck
that was that doesn’t tally with his own, it’s just unsettling. So he has no
idea what he is thinking. And how much he’s hiding is really beyond
him.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun palms his cheek, so being confrontational it is.

“What’s wrong?”

Chanyeol shakes his head and leans down, hiding his face between
Baekhyun’sshoulder and cheek. It makes the latter chuckle lovingly,
permissible peace curving his lips; and he allows the embrace
nonetheless, hugging the man with his bandaged arm.

The buzzing of a phone brings the moment to a stop, and Chanyeol

pulls away to sleep on his own pillow after he tucks it against the
headboard while Baekhyun forages through the covers for the annoying
phone. He finally finds it and his eyes widen at the caller’s ID on the
screen.

“Shit,” he grits out, “it’s Hongbin.”

Chanyeol supports the back of his head on his hand and looks up at the
other’s horror-stricken face. “Aren’t you going to answer?”

Baekhyun’stongue snakes out ardently and he pins Chanyeol with a

vague look before finally connecting the call, “Bin, hey, buddy.” He
listens in, and speaks again after rolling his eyes. “Okay, just wait for
me. I’ll be there in a few.” He disconnects the call and lets out an
unendurable sigh. “He’s unbelievable, dropping by without a prior
notice.”

Chanyeol furrows his thick brows but doesn’t comment.

Baekhyun returns his gaze on Chanyeol’s, hoping to gauge a reaction

but alas, Chanyeol wasn’t changing his poker face. He flings the phone
somewhere on the bed and slides out from the warm cover with
consummate elegance, naked ass swinging in the air with cum dripping
down his inner thighs, and he straddles Chanyeol –knees on either side
of his hips, an arm braced by his shoulder and the other hugged to his
chest since he can’t lean on it yet. He takes his tongue a little out from
the corner of his lips and bites on it, grinning mischievously.

Chanyeol’s smirk is ferial at the liberal and open sprinkling of playful

naughtiness, and enjoys the drama interlude as Baekhyun sways his
ass, making sure their cocks rub.

“Waiting more won’t kill him” he tells his man, “you think you can make
me cum in twenty?”

“I can make you cum in far less.” Chanyeol drones sexily, “your stamina
is a joke.”
“Hey, now.” He said, “New sexual conquests excite me.” He intones in
reproach, now licking along Chanyeol’s bulky neck and making him sigh
softly. “Just the thought of your cock inside my ass makes me so
fucking wet.”

Chanyeol feels a shudder run through him soon as the whispered words
fall on his ear, and he immediately immobilizes Baekhyun by the hip
with a hand and the other goes to the puffy entrance slicked by cum.
“When did you become such a massive pussy?”

“How about you shut your trap and fuck that pussy?”

Chanyeol ignores the ridiculous pun and pushes three fingers inside at
once that Baekhyun can’t put off the gasp and the arch of his back.

“So suddenly…” he grumbles but still moans.

He levels Baekhyun with an irritatingly simpering look, “Coulda fooled

me.”

The wet squelching sounds Chanyeol is causing by thrusting his fingers

in and out make Baekhyun blush all the way to his nape. He clasps his
hand on the man’s chest, palming it out on his marble sternum. His arm
starts to tire and tremble and he topples over the muscled chest and
the jutting abs with a charming whimper.

Chanyeol smiles to himself at the action and actually exults at the idea
of having Baekhyun trembling and hot with just a touch of his fingers,
it’s also very worrisome. He can’t imagine Baekhyun with someone else,
and what’s more, he can’t imagine him hot and trembling under
anyone’s touch but his and he fucking signed up for it–

“Chanyeol!” The man, who’s been moaning and sucking on a mole

between his dibs, suddenly interrupts his dark musings, propping up on
his healthy arm again. “That’s enough…” he keens, “just… hurry.”

Chanyeol catches sight of the swollen cock that looks like, with one tap,
and it’d burst.

Baekhyun is still that man whom he hunted four years ago who could
reduce his narcissistic egocentricity, which couldn’t even define love at
the time, to passion and desire tinged with obsession. The gangly man
whose fiery eyes used to make something in him tremble and tingle,
whose persistence always broke through his merciless exterior and the
depths of his depravity. But right now, he isn’t. He’s just the man he
wants to ask for forgiveness and not sound defeated. The man he
wants to make love to and not look weak and whom he wants to spend
the rest of his life with and not be judged.

They’d –he’d tried to push his luck and tried talking Baekhyun into
sucking him off; it was always a sight to behold. Baekhyun refused out
flat, justifying it with his need to adapt because he still remembers the
times he used to get beaten into it, which brings up the many times
Chanyeol had fucked him into submission. Chanyeol will give him the
time he needs, and for now, he will be more than satisfied fucking
Baekhyun with the latter shagging on his lap.

He yanks his fingers out and drinks in the sight of Baekhyun mewling in
a sweet aching sound and ejaculating over their stomachs. He chuckles
longingly and gives the man’s cock a few strokes, milking whatever left.
He parts his lips to talk but Baekhyun’shand clasps over his mouth.

“Don’t.” He warns, panting very deeply. “Don’t you dare.”

Chanyeol parts his lips and licks Baekhyun’sfingers, “was just gonna
say that was hot.”

Baekhyun’salluring eyes land on Chanyeol’s, and the way he pouts

matches the temptation in his eyes it’s ridiculous. This makes it the
second time this morning Chanyeol says something corny, he figured it
was a one-off but, apparently, Chanyeol is starting to grow this into a
habit. He isn’t saying he isn’t a fan, but didn’t Chanyeol just chuckle?
Which really doesn’t fall under the same heading; the guy was making
fun of his stupid stamina again.

He’s gonna make him regret the whole thing.

All it takes is Baekhyun scraping his teeth along the edge of Chanyeol’s
jaw and moan against the skin of his neck and the man’s cock hops
hard angling to drill inside Baekhyun’s ass. He aligns it with Baekhyun’s
entrance and, very slowly, pushes it in. He frames the man’s ass cheeks
and kneads and gropes tightly, making Baekhyun unable to control his
whines. He starts moving his hips, thrusting up into the hot wetness
that makes him groan in satisfaction; this is simply the fucking best.

“Ah, aah” Baekhyun is moaning atop him with his eyes looking glossy.
“Yeah, oh fuck, yes…”

Chanyeol licks his upper lip; so far, this is satisfying. He’s always loved a
little pain in it, though. He grabs Baekhyun’sinjured arm and pulls it to
him, making Baekhyun cry out. Thing is, the gash on Baekhyun upper
arm extends all the way to his forearm, a little below the nook area, so,
because of the stitches, he can’t stretch it. Chanyeol pulling his arm like
this must feel really, really painful.

Baekhyun hardens his glare down at the man relishing his pain and
clutches at his neck, wrapping his fingers around it and pushing those
veins back in.

To punish him, Chanyeol snaps his hips and thrusts even deeper until
all of his cock is buried inside Baekhyun’sass.

Baekhyun tightens his grip on the neck and whimpers, “So deep!” he
howls, endearingly. Chanyeol snaps his hips again and thrust into him
faster and deeper each time, making their balls slap. Baekhyun tries to
toss his head to the back but the stitches on his neck forfeit the action
and he whimpers with tears spilling down his cheeks. He can feel
Chanyeol sighing excitedly beneath him at the whole thing. He doesn’t
forget to keep his grip around the man’s neck tight as he bucks up
against the cock drilling inside his ass. “Oh!” His eyes widen, as though
in renewed realization, “More, Chanyeol, fuck me more.”

Chanyeol hisses and releases the injured arm, now he gropes

Baekhyun’s ass cheeks again. “Just remember,” he breathes out, “you
asked for it.”

Baekhyun moans in anticipation alone, he knows what’s going to follow.

Chanyeol holds Baekhyun’s ass in the perfect angle, and then he moves
his hips again, faster and deeper that the wet slaps sound so hollow.
And he doesn’t fucking stop.
“Ah!” Baekhyun cries out, pleasurably. “Ah! Oh, God, yes! That’s it, right
there, Chanyeol. Just like that, mmm….”

Chanyeol follows the coaching to the word. “You like that, huh?” he
urges, fervently.

“Love it,” Baekhyun moans, “love it when you fuck me so hard like this,
makes me go crazy for your dick.”

Literally too, it seems. Chanyeol muses on a smirk.

He loves Baekhyun’s new habit of wrapping his arm around his neck
and pressing his nose against his cheek, he loves it to the bone.
Baekhyun’s breath falls hard on his jaw every time he gasps and moans
and even grunts. He manages to keep this up longer enough for
Baekhyun’s cock to cum again before he’s also sending his cum inside
the man, soaking his ass and inner thighs.

They both cling to each other, hugging tightly and riding out the intense
afterglow.

They’re slowly sinking back under the covers when the sound of the
phone’s vibrations goes off –muffled by the covers– and followed by the
spectacular scattering noise that suggests the phone has just fallen
from the bed and onto the ground. It startles the puppy who was
napping by the fireplace.

Baekhyun bites down on his bottom lip and sighs, “I’m gonna kill him”
Chanyeol chuckles darkly and motions with his head, “you should go.”

“I know” Baekhyun says, faintly. He props up a little, and scans the

inside of the cabin. “Don’t want to, though.”

“Don’t want you to, either.” Chanyeol is fast to admit, and that serious
expression ups Baekhyun to leave the bed entirely because he’s weak
to temptation and he can’t risk leaving his friend in the street.

Chanyeol watches as Baekhyun walk towards the bathroom with the

cum, which he spurted inside him, dripping down his thighs. The sight
alone makes him half hard again. Baekhyun disappears inside the
bathroom to obviously wash up, and the sound of water splashing
asserts his prediction.

He does remember Hongbin, the puppy-eyed with the gummy grin whom
he ordered to be locked and looked after by Jihoon, and he doesn’t
remember interacting with him much either. He’s glad. There’s
something more than remorse and nightmares in his statement. There’s
relief. He doesn’t carry memories of doing Baekhyun’s friend harm so
the fact that he can look the man in the eyes and feel the guilt he
carries towards him the only thing creating a turmoil is really consoling.

But with Hongbin here, Baekhyun might not have a chance to come see
him, and neither will he. He hangs his hope in the thought that maybe
the guy isn’t going to spend long in this town, and he and Baekhyun will
continue to see each other again. The pinched expression that must be
tugging at his face now is the sign of his inner fears; Baekhyun
accepted this life in the shadows, with him. To take a leap like that and
toss himself into the unknown and leave much of his life behind… it’s a
death sentence. He knows that as long as he’s with him, Baekhyun
could never have normal.

Baekhyun exits the bathroom and shifts around for his clothes which
they’d torn off each other in their haste to get to the bed last night. He
starts putting them on and ignores the deep stare concentrating on his
every move, eating him up and making his fingers tremble and fail to
button his jeans.

“What’re you doing, you bastard” –he looks charmingly at the other–
“planning to peel off my clothes with just your eyes?”

“You have any objections?”

“I don’t think it works, you lil’ piece of shit.” Baekhyun bites his tongue
and grins teasingly. “Try something else.” Saying so, he palms his bulge
slightly and licks his upper lip very slowly, suggestively.

It takes all in Chanyeol’s power not to bolt from the bed and lurch
forward to pin Baekhyun down to the floor and fuck his brains out.

“Your friend just called again.” He grumbles. “So go to him, and get the
fuck out of my place.”

Baekhyun puts the jacket on next and ruffles his hair. Then, he walks up
to the bed to collect his phone from the ground. He hides the cock-
blocking contraption in his pocket and approaches Chanyeol’s side. “I’m
gonna miss your dick.”
Chanyeol scoffs and shakes his head, “gonna miss your ass” he
counters, “you gonna put any dildos in there if it gets lonely?”

Baekhyun leans in, the playful look over his face changing and falling
into a frown, like he wants to cry and wail his eyes out. Then he cups
Chanyeol’s cheek. “Only you, Chanyeol” he whispers, “toy or not, game
or not, it’ll always be just you.”

See?

He’s breaking through Chanyeol’s façade again, saying the corniest

crap…

He pulls Baekhyun down for a heated kiss and doesn’t pull away until
the other keens for some air. He beholds his dazed face and swollen
lips, and again, all he wants to do is pull the man to his bed again.

“Go now.”

Baekhyun smiles sheepishly and nods, “see ya.” He waves over his
shoulder and walks up to the front, and he doesn’t vacate the cabin
until he’s slipped his feet into his boots and blew a kiss to Chanyeol
who throws a pillow at him.

Chanyeol shakes his head on a fading smile, he sits up and looks

towards the fireplace where Snowie is sprawled on the chair pad.

Baekhyun is still smiling shyly and it somehow overcomes the cold that
enwraps him.
This, whatever it is they’ve etched like footprints on snow, might be
gone with the upcoming change in the air. None of them can tell for how
long this could last for them, this burning passion that is, despite
everything, still aflame. It’s supposed to be comforting; they do take
comfort in the passionate nights they share tangled together, tasting
and melting in each other… but it’s hard to push away doubts when
their rival is their past.

The past is part of their present together, but there’s always that wishful
thinking that with enough good memories, the shadows haunting them
will be overwritten or just… go away. So far, it hasn’t happened. The
words ‘may’ and ‘someday’ become more comforting than those
passionate nights.

More than the past, there’s the world; biggest things threatening their
small sphere, which consists of just the two of them, to be forced under
the lights and condemned. It’s easy for the other party to point
accusatory fingers and return a verdict of ‘guilty’ because the two of
them and what they have are beyond understanding… unsavorily
disreputable when it simply just can’t be labeled. But it’s hard to be
accepted.

Neither of them acknowledges the perpetually lingering darkness they

have to wallow in and hide under, but they both know it’s far more
merciful than the world could ever be.

What offers consolation, though, in the cold and dark abyssal depths of
this pit are the gentle touches and radiating smiles and the whispered
assurances they give each other in their nightly privacy.

With that in mind, they know the next wait is going to be so worth it…
Chapter Nineteen

Baekhyun looks up at the sky layered with a chaotic array of puffy,

marigold red clouds. He feels heat with the first lick of summer being
provided to him by the sun slowly sinking beyond the horizon. Sunsets
are the best thing this town has to offer. His lips twitch a little into a
faint smile before he parts them to blow a breath, but since the
temperature has been rising lately, the vapor is not quite visible.

He’s been at the same café he usually frequents at to finish a book or

cross words to pass the time, merely in an attempt to escape routine or
insistent thoughts of what tomorrow may bring.

This marks the fourth month since he reunited with Chanyeol, and he
can’t believe it, but they’ve been very intimate ever since. He spends
most of his weekends at Chanyeol’s, and when it’s a holiday, Chanyeol
takes the initiative to drop by his place. They haven’t been able to talk
about any plans of going outside town. There haven’t been any talks of
plans period. Chanyeol is too anxious to face the outside world and
Baekhyun doesn’t want to force him into it. It hasn’t even been a year
so he is biting down on his knuckles and bearing with it for the man’s
sake. However, it’s starting to smother him.

Baekhyun likes to think of himself as a bird. He doesn’t like to be

confined to one place, and although this town has a lot of things he is
comfortable with, it is still stifling to not have any change of airs.
Okay, here’s the thing: A few weeks ago, way after Hongbin had left
unable to deal with the flashbacks; Baekhyun rode the borrowed bike to
Chanyeol’s cabin but didn’t find the man. He found a note, though,
addressed to him with a blunt text that read [I’m going away for a few.
Don’t bother coming back next weekend.]. That was the drop that
spilled the cup and heralded this series of compulsory freedom seeking
ideas. It wasn’t impulsive. He didn’t just wake up one day and started
arguing about wanting to leave town for a few days. But he’d been
bringing it up to Chanyeol even prior to his sudden departure, he had
been dropping hints.

Baekhyun followed the note to the word and didn’t appear at

Chanyeol’s place last weekend, but guess what, he isn’t going to even
today. It’s Friday and it’s usually the day Baekhyun gets his things and
heads to Chanyeol’s. Not this time. Chanyeol needs to learn that the
world doesn’t revolve around him, and if he wishes to treat Baekhyun
like a robot on auto mode that would do all his bidding, then he has
another thing coming.

Baekhyun isn’t so frail, and although he loves Chanyeol, he isn’t going

to indulge each and every whim of his.

He fumbles with the keys to his apartment, opens its door and enters.
Snowie, bigger and covered in whitish golden fur, comes rushing to him
with his tongue lolling sideways and his tail wagging happily. Baekhyun
ruffles his mane and straightens up to take off his sneakers. He
lumbers towards the living room with his eyes opened to masts. He is
worn out and, more than a trip outside town right now, he would love a
back massage. He drops on the sofa and tosses the keys on the coffee
table.

Actually, there’s something else that is constantly nagging at him: Last

Friday also marked Chanyeol’s birthday which is something he had dug
out from the precinct. It was illegal, but his father’s name managed to
get a yellow folder open before him and a tap on the shoulder to please
hurry it up before I lose my fucking job. Baekhyun had wanted to make
use of the info and spend the night with Chanyeol somewhere far away
from town. It came as a blow to the guts when Chanyeol upped and left
without leaving coordinates of his whereabouts behind for Baekhyun to
retrace.

Baekhyun has looked at this from every angle alright, and the only thing
that he came up with is the long standing fact that Chanyeol can’t and
won’t trust him.

Dismissing the disheartening thought, Baekhyun levers up with a groan

and heads to the kitchen. He takes out a bow of last night’s cheese
spaghetti from the fridge and slips it inside the microwave. As he waits
for the leftovers to be reheated, a knock on the door brings him out of
his musings.

Snowie rushes to the front door, barking excitedly and he only does that
when Chanyeol is behind that door. Baekhyun scrubs a hand over his
face and sighs, “I’m coming!” he shouts, wearily.

And, long behold, Chanyeol, dressed in a leather jacket and bleached

jeans, smirks after Baekhyun yanks the door open. Snowie slides
between Baekhyun and the wall and leaps at Chanyeol who crouches
down to rub his furry, dangling ears.

“Hey, buddy,” he intones. “Here’s one looking happy to see me.”

Baekhyun breathes out through his nose at the hint aimed at him and
crosses his arms over his chest, “what’re you doing here, man?” the
reiteration of that question is becoming so annoying by now.
Chanyeol’s smirk starts to gradually grow fainter as he lifts up. “Why are
you so cross?”

Baekhyun dares to pinch a brow at the absurdity of the question, and

he opens his mouth to say something but the timer of the microwave
beeps and hinders his effort. He rolls his eyes and walks back inside,
leaving the door open. He rushes to the kitchen to take his dinner out.

Chanyeol ushers to dog to follow in as he also enters and closes the

door behind him. He usually removes whatever he’s donned over his
sweater or Henley before making his way to the living room, but he has
this inkling that today it’ll be wiser if he doesn’t.

Baekhyun is stumped. He doesn’t know why he didn’t punch Chanyeol

across his throat the moment he made it look like it was just Baekhyun
blowing things out of proportion like some over jealous wife, when they
both know Chanyeol vanishing off-radar always sent Baekhyun to
turmoil of emotions of fear, worry and anxiety. It’s his fault, all of it. Why
should Baekhyun get ammunition for something he absolutely has the
right to, like getting pissed!

He opens the microwave’s lid to take out the bowl, but he doesn’t count
on finding it hot and it ends up falling from his fingers and clattering on
the floor, cheese and spaghetti spilling and smearing the panel. He
hisses an expletive as though it was the bowl that placed itself in the
microwave to burn his hand and so it deserved the cussing.

“Here, let me see.” Chanyeol is at his side in a blink.

Baekhyun holds off all motions and watches with vague wonder how
Chanyeol takes the burned fingers gently in his hands for a better
examination.

“Do you have any butter, or eggs?” he suddenly asks.

Baekhyun wrenches his hands from the other’s, “why, we making an

omelet?” he sneers, “I’m fine. I’ll just ice it.”

Chanyeol stands bridled at the way Baekhyun yanked his hands from
him, but eventually squares his shoulders and rolls his chin, action firm.
“Might give you frostbite, especially with your skin sensitive like that.”

“Why do you care, anyway?” Baekhyun rears up, face crunched in

distaste.

“You PMSing, or what?” Chanyeol glowers, “Why are you being such a
bitch?”

Baekhyun’s been applying a wet cloth on his burn, but at the venomous
word, he tosses the damn thing to the counter and braces a hand on his
hip and the other on the edge of the sink. “Where were you last week?”

Chanyeol hides his hands in the pockets of his jacket and shrugs,
“That’s none of your business.”

Baekhyun grins soundlessly, “how typical.” He marvels, “Your work is

none of my business, what you do for a hobby is none of my business,
now this?” the grin quickly morphs into a furious scowl, “then why the
hell are you still here, Chanyeol?”

“I left you a note, last time.” Chanyeol trails off with his eyes narrowing.

“That means zilch if I had no idea where you’d been!”

“You want to control me, is that it?” Chanyeol’s smoky voice bellows.

Baekhyun’s tired. He’s sore. If Chanyeol’s spoiling for a fight, he’ll give
him one.

“Control you?” He echoes on a deliberate huff, “you make it seem like

the only thing I gain from what I do and what I say is hurting you” Which,
son of a bitch, has he noticed his behavior for the past month? “Are you
insane or what?”

“I don’t see why else you’d keep poking your nose where it doesn’t
belong,” Chanyeol retaliates just as quickly, “I told you it was none of
your business, so drop it.”

“I have a right to know, okay?”

“You have a right to now?” Chanyeol snorts, “why, because we sleep

together?”

Baekhyun’s mouth gapes as he frowns, “You don’t mean that,

Chanyeol; we’ve been through this before.”
Chanyeol’s chest rises and he lets out a shaky breath. “I” he starts,
“can we just forget it?”

“No, I’m not gonna forget it.” He insists, “You don’t get to treat me like
this and get away with it. You have no right.”

“I know.” Chanyeol grouses, “but if you minded your own, we wouldn’t

have to always have this conversation.”

“Yeah?” Baekhyun urges, fetches the cloth and tosses it at the man.
“Fuck you, okay? I’m not desperate.” He reminds, “Now leave.”

Chanyeol snakes his tongue out to lick his lips, “You don’t want me to
leave.”

“Is that a threat?” Baekhyun can’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m saying I don’t want to keep playing this game?” Chanyeol simply
said, “If you can’t give me this much space, then it’s better if we, you
know, take a break.”

Baekhyun’s face sags and he wills himself to keep a lid on all the
emotions of hurt and betrayal wanting to erupt. “You want us to break
up, is that it?”

Chanyeol shrugs half-heartedly.

“Who is it?” Baekhyun demands.

“Who’s who?”

“The one you’ve been seeing, who is it?”

Chanyeol clicks his lips and rolls his eyes, “there’s no one.”

“Aha,” Baekhyun’s tone is incredulous, “so what’s got your panties in a

wad, you suddenly feel freeing inspiration?”

“’Because of you!” Chanyeol gesticulates to all of Baekhyun on a howl,

takes a moment to calm his breath before he speaks again “you’re
being controlling and obsessed, and, honestly, I’m getting sick of it.”

“I wouldn’t be controlling and obsessed if you included me in your life,

not just your bed!”

“Yeah, well, maybe I like my privacy?”

“That’s just the thing, Chanyeol, you like your privacy too fucking much!”
Baekhyun seethes, out of breath, “Even more, you act like you don’t
care anymore. You don’t express interest, you don’t show up when I ask
you to and you just stopped asking altogether.” He grouches, bitingly.
“This isn’t how it works, alright? You act as though you know everything
about me so it’s okay to draw the line.”

“But I do know everything about you.” Chanyeol simply states.

Baekhyun stops mid-rant and holds Chanyeol's eyes in his. He clears his
throat, collects himself and wraps his arms over his chest again, maybe
to defend himself from more painful declarations. “You want to draw
the line now?”

Chanyeol scrubs his nape and winces.

“Have you lost interest in me?” His voice is calm, so calm, the same
calm that precedes a storm.

Chanyeol gulps, “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

There was a set of cutlery on top of the counter with other tableware
that Baekhyun punches after balling his fist. Glass shards cut his skin
and scatter to the floor, adding to the mess he made earlier. “How it’s
relevant?” he echoes, “are you out of your mind?”

Chanyeol furrows his thick brows. “You’re still healing from your
wounds, don’t be reckless.”

“You didn’t deny my conclusion about you losing interest in me,

asshole.” He reminds, dismissing Chanyeol’s concern because
everything isn’t just black and white anymore, not after Chanyeol
dropped this bomb.

“Doesn’t mean it’s true,” Chanyeol hollers, and adds more calmly,
“Look, I’m just irked by your nonstop nagging and interrogation about
my whereabouts. What I do with my free time is my business. Why can’t
you wrap your head around it?”
Baekhyun rakes a hand through his hair and nibbles at his bottom lip.

Chanyeol takes a non-thought step towards him, a crease marring his

forehead. “Let me see your hand,” he offers, “blood is dripping.”

Baekhyun looks down at said hand impaired by angry cuts and covered
by blood that’s still seeping out from the small gashes. He slumps to the
wall and slides down. His legs stretch in front of him and his hands drop
on his thighs.

Chanyeol crouches beside him and, for the second time, takes
Baekhyun’s injured hand in his. Ironically, the burn marks aren’t what
they needed to worry about anymore. “What a mess.”

Baekhyun scoffs slightly, “We are, aren’t we?”

“I was talking about your hand.” Chanyeol corrects on a snipe.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes tiredly and faces away, “Whatever.”

Chanyeol stands up and washes his hand in the sink, then fills up a cup
and crouches beside Baekhyun again. He starts pouring the water on
the cuts and the way Baekhyun whimpers in a small voice breaks his
heart. For the first time, he can’t find satisfaction in Baekhyun’s pain.

“Gonna bring the first aid kit, don’t move anywhere.”

Baekhyun vaguely registers Chanyeol disappearing inside the bathroom.
There are black dots swimming in his vision and a dull pain radiating
from his hand. He can’t believe Chanyeol wants to call this off because
he doesn’t like sharing a little bit about himself. They’re supposed to be
partners. They’re sharing what no one in this world does. They are
special, for fuck’s sake.

He’s been losing sleep, thinking and worrying where Chanyeol had gone
off to. If he was safe or hurt, or if he was caught. He’s been living
nightmare horrors during the day as well. This is what he gets for his
trouble?

He feels a tap on his cheek that prompts him to open his eyes which he
didn’t know he closed. He groggily turns his head to face Chanyeol
who’s already applying sterile gauze on the wounds.

“These needs stitches, Baek.” He tells him with a sad frown, “want me
to do it or do you want to go to the ER?”

Baekhyun groans and waves his other hand dismissively, “I’ll be fine,
just wrap it in gauze.”

“The bleeding is not stopping, okay?” Chanyeol rumbles, “Stop being

reckless about your own health and make a pick.”

Baekhyun glares at him like he is utterly offended. He pushes him off

and scrambles up to his feet.

Chanyeol mimics his action and finds himself straining up. “What?”
Baekhyun shakes his head dazedly and ushers to the man to hand him
the box near his foot. “Hand it over,” he said, “I’ll take care of this. I
don’t want you to think that I’m controlling you or anything.”

Chanyeol blows a heavy sigh, “Baekhyun” he starts, “don’t be like this.”

Said man glowers again, adding more heated fury into it. “Excuse me?”
he demands, but then his expression falters because he’s too tired for
this crap. “You know what, Chanyeol, I don’t care.” He finally admits,
“Apparently, I’m the only one trying to make this work and, honestly, I
don’t even know why when you’re so adamantly twisting this to make
me the weird one.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You don’t want me to have anything to do with your life,” he jogs the
man’s memory again for the third time today of what kind of wrong he's
been doing, “so every time I ask, or every time I insist you give me
something, I look like the bad guy.”

Chanyeol scrubs a hand over his face. Coming to think of it, he looks
uncomfortable in his own skin. His face is a little pale, paler than usual.
He looks worn out and angry. “I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun’s receptors come to a stop. What was that just now, an

apology? Did Chanyeol just apologize?

Their eyes meet again and silence prevails for a beat.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I admit I’ve been acting childish about the
whole thing.”

Baekhyun says nothing in response because, well, Chanyeol is finally

talking.

“There are a few things, however, that I’d like to keep to myself.” He
confesses, “But the way I shunned you was rude, and I realize now that
I made a mistake.”

Baekhyun nods absentmindedly, processing the words.

“I don’t want to break up,” Chanyeol said, “I said that while angry and I
never mean the things I say while angry.” He thrusts his hands into his
pockets and his shoulders slump. “I’ll say it now so you won’t stress
over it, there’s just you and I don’t even think I have the capacity to look
at someone else. I meant it when I said I wanted to spend the rest of my
life with you so let’s not fuck this up because we have our heads far up
our asses.”

Baekhyun eventually allowed the man to stitch up his cuts, and is now
in the bathroom, soaking inside the tub.

This isn’t healthy: the two of them, as long as they’re together, they’re
going to bring each other pain. Chanyeol already acknowledged this and
even warned Baekhyun about it, but he was just too delirious to heed
the warning. Maybe the man’s also right when he says it’s Baekhyun’s
fault for being intrusive and nosy. He can’t help it, okay? He loves the
man to an unhealthy degree and he just wants to be included in his life
as much as he allows the other into his. You know what? Maybe
Baekhyun is the one who is being reasonable here. He knows a happy
relationship –as happy as it can get with the two of them– can’t be
maintained if the two parties aren’t talking things out.

He hears a knock, muffled, and immediately assumes it’s someone at

the front door. He knows Chanyeol won’t answer because the guy is
anthrophobic, so he lifts up from the lukewarm water to see who’s
knocking at his door but Chanyeol’s voice stops him.

“It’s just the pizza guy.”

Baekhyun leaves the bathroom anyway after wrapping a towel around

his waist. He ambles to his bedroom in a search for nice clothes to
wear.

This is probably a trust thing; it has nothing to do with Baekhyun being

nosy, and it doesn’t have to do with Chanyeol acting cagey. They just
can’t trust each other; well, Chanyeol more than Baekhyun. If that’s
really the case, Baekhyun should be the one raising hackles here. He
was the one kidnapped, tortured and all that jazz. He’s not. He allowed
Chanyeol into his place, his bedroom… What else is he supposed to do
to show his loyalty, and that he can be trusted?

When he returns to the living room, he finds that Chanyeol has left him
his share of the pizza in its box before vanishing inside the bathroom.
He goes to the kitchen to grab a beer and, fuck, his heart swells at the
realization that Chanyeol has also cleaned the mess of broken glass
shards and spilled cheese spaghetti. He feels like he wants to bawl his
eyes out. They’re both hurt, tired and just… love hurts so much.

Chanyeol eyes his haggard reflection in the mirror and frowns. Maybe
it’s time to talk to Baekhyun about these things weighing him down
mentally. Maybe it’d become easier to bear if he shared his luggage
with the person his shares body heat with; and wasn’t it a blow to the
balls when he referred to Baekhyun as his fuck buddy. How hurt he’d
looked. Chanyeol is wronging that man over and over and when
Baekhyun finally manned up to defend his honor, Chanyeol landed this
low blow?

He is despicable.

Baekhyun isn’t quite positive that Chanyeol is going to spend the night
but a part of him sure hopes so. He chances a glance at the bathroom’s
closed door before marching back to his bedroom. He places a chair in
front of the bed, turns the lamps on and prepares a throw blanket on
the bed. If Chanyeol decides to stay over, then there are a few thought-
pattern previously held that they need to get out of the way.

The only source of light providing illumination in the room is the two
lamps.

Silently, Chanyeol peels off his clothes, one piece of garment falling to
the floor after another until he is standing completely naked.

Baekhyun has requested this the moment Chanyeol came looking for
him. He also did notice the new triskelion tattoo between the man’s
shoulder blades. And as much as he wants to know the story behind it,
he doesn’t want Chanyeol throwing accusations again and calling him
nosy, so he keeps his curiosity to himself.

Chanyeol has followed the ushered order, and now he rests on the
padded chair Baekhyun placed in front of him across the bed, and signs
to him to proceed whatever he’s planned.
Baekhyun has picked out his red bandana from the drawer and folds it
over Chanyeol’s eyes from behind. Not too tight so phosphenes
wouldn’t explode in his eyes. He takes a step to the back, just admiring
his handiwork.

Chanyeol’s outline shaded by the faint light, broad shoulders not fitting
in the length of the backrest of the chair, and his hair rendered
unkempt because of the piece of clothing keeping him from seeing
what’s happening. He lifts a hand, the recently injured hand and
brushes the tips of his fingers over Chanyeol’s cheek. The reverberant
shudder makes him proud. He ghosts his fingers over the flushed skin
and then over his mouth, skimming quivering fingers on the lips and
parting them slightly. He retrieves his hand before there’s even a
reaction to that. His other healthy hand mimics the same ministration,
same slow and thorough contact. He glides his hands to Chanyeol’s hair
next, kneading the scalp with a little forceful press of his fingertips until
the tied man sighs. He fists a lock of raven-black hair and tugs gently,
eliciting more purrs and sighs from Chanyeol.

Baekhyun deliberately grazes the man’s red ears and nape with his
pinky and thumb fingers, then, just as slowly, slides his hands down the
length of Chanyeol’s arm, right to the large hands resting on muscular
thighs. He twines their fingers together, and instead of repeating the
process, Baekhyun pulls the hands captured in his behind the backrest
of the chair. He ties Chanyeol’s wrist with the latter’s belt.

He palms out his hands on the visible area of Chanyeol’s back, and
starts a new sequence of caressing the skin. His hands move smoothly
to Chanyeol's shoulders, his collar and down to his dips. He strokes the
nipples that are already standing erect. He goes lower to Chanyeol’s
abs, fondling softly, then returns his hands to the nipples.
Chanyeol’s chest rises and falls, muscled dips go evidently higher the
deeper he breathes and exhales.

Baekhyun brings his lips to the man’s nape, kissing in earnest. He can
feel his own breathing uneven and fanning on the man’s skin to wreak
havoc. He slides out his tongue and licks one of those red ears, and wet
noises soon break the silence interrupted by sporadic sighs.

“Do you trust me?” He whispers in the ear he’s licking, sonorous and
sensual. “Chanyeol, do you really trust me?”

Chanyeol gulps and his Adam apple bobs. He nods wordlessly.

You've got me surrounded

It feels like I'm drowning and I don't want to come up for air

Baekhyun’s hands rake their way down towards Chanyeol’s groin,

pressing his fingers on the V lines, fastidious in his motions, while
Chanyeol snakes his tongue out to wet his lips. The brunet kneels
before his man’s parted legs, his hands still massaging the same area.
He glides them down, though, to the thick thighs. The twitch of
Chanyeol’s cock tells him he’s doing a really good job so it urges him
more. He parts his lips, leans in and presses his mouth on the inner
side of Chanyeol’s left thigh, licks a long way, moaning deeply onto the
skin and making Chanyeol’s sighs deepen. He bares his teeth and bites
the skin where the thigh and a ball meet, making Chanyeol hiss, and
then nuzzles at the area with his nose, cock and balls touching his
cheek. He blows hot breath on them and watches with gusto how the
cock adds in volume.
Baekhyun finally rests both his hands on the cock rising to the
attention, and beholds it with a wide, uncertain look.

“Baekhyun–” the other maybe wants to make Baekhyun acknowledge

his own limit, especially if the flashbacks are still fresh.

I lost everything,

I threw myself in and you took me where no one was there

“Shut up.” Said man interjects with a seethe, “Just, be quiet.”

Well you can take what you need, take the air that I breathe and I'll give
away all that I own

Chanyeol does as ordered, letting Baekhyun battle his inner struggle by

himself.

Baekhyun gives the meaty cock a few strokes, inwardly loving how it
stands completely hard under his touch. He clears his throat and opens
his mouth. He licks the crown, a quick pass of his tongue to taste and
get himself ready for it, and repeats the action a few times, but slower
in each trial. Chanyeol is beginning to make more audible noises and
there’s nothing else Baekhyun wants to hear right now more than the
man’s moans. He closes his eyes at the flashbacks of Psycho Chanyeol
slapping him across the face every time Baekhyun refused to be
anywhere near this cock, and flaps his precum-slicked tongue over the
precum-slicked head, dragging that tongue along the shaft. The feeling
of hot, thick and slick skin against his tongue is slowly coursing through
him and his own cock likes it. His saliva-coated tongue coils around the
shaft, and, suddenly and without a warning, he closes his lips on the
glans and takes half of the cock into his mouth with one smooth sweep.

Chanyeol lets loose a small groan, and tosses his head to the back.

A strange hotness spreads inside the brunet as he bobs his head on the
cock, feeling it filling his mouth. He remembers how Psycho Chanyeol
used to like it: little throat vibrations. For that, he has to take it deeper
and he doesn’t know if he can just yet. He makes soft muffled noises as
his mouth moves up and down the veiny shaft despite the strain on his
jaws.

Chanyeol’s breath is ragged as he groans and grunts deeply. His tied

wrists start squirming to untie himself, frantic in his effort; holy fuck,
Baekhyun did not just get on his knees to give him head, and did not
just wrap his small –obviously hungry– lips deep around his cock to
chase all thoughts in Chanyeol’s head away. A paroxysm of pleasure
takes hold of him and he loses sense of everything but the hot mouth
on his cock, slurping in earnest. His jaw slackens as he lets out
continuous prolonged sighs.

Baekhyun’s head goes all mushy and dizzy: this lewd scent is strong in
his nose, and his mouth is full of cock and precum and he’s losing his
mind and his cock is about ready to fucking burst already. He sneaks a
hand under the waistband of his boxers and cups his own erection,
whimpering on the cock in his mouth at the zapping contact.

Chanyeol on the chair makes a sharp noise, something between a

groan and a moan, it’s perfect.

Whatever I lose, is put back by you in a way that you'll never know
'Cause I can't be without you

Baekhyun’s eyes roll under his head as he jerks himself off, the
squelching making his cheeks blush.

The bandana comes off a little and slides off one of Chanyeol’s eyes. He
seizes the chance to look down at what’s transpiring and, most of all, to
appreciate the sight between his legs: Baekhyun, blushing and
sweating, bobbing up and down on his cock with his alluring amber eyes
on Chanyeol’s. What’s more erotic about the scene is Baekhyun rubbing
his cock and getting off on sucking Chanyeol off.

“Fuck…” Chanyeol can feel him trying to hold back, though, and he
pretty much knows what’s behind the story, he fucking caused it. If the
belt would just come off! “I know it’s a lot to ask but can you take all of
it?” He says between gritted teeth.

Baekhyun shudders at the request that used to be an order, and

grimaces. He feels Chanyeol’s cock twitching so he assumes the man is
about to ejaculate, which is probably why he requested the mouth
abuse, or so Baekhyun used to call it. He already decided he’ll
overcome this, damn it, he should just feel it out and do as his body
desires because, fuck yeah, his body wants it.

I'll be there when you need me most I'll be there if you're ever alone

Together, we can grow old I can't leave you I can't leave you, no
He opens his lips more on the cock and takes it in those inches left until
his nose touches the man’s pubic, feeling the hot length pressing
against the back of his throat that his eyes start to water. He panics at
first, letting out choking noises.

“Amazing!” Chanyeol breathes out, “fucking amazing, Baekhyun.”

The compliment transforms his panic and fear into pleasure and, really,
he realizes he doesn’t have any qualms with being Chanyeol’s slut in
here, within the privacy of these four walls. What makes this consolable
is the fact that this was his choice; Chanyeol didn’t force him or beat
him into it. This Chanyeol and that Psycho are different.

The cock in his mouth throbs as he chokes on it and the back of his
throat convulses on the crown, and Chanyeol is soon coming inside his
mouth. Cum slowly spills out and drips down Baekhyun’s jaw and neck.
The latter pulls away and hacks a few coughs with the back of one of
his hands cleaning the tip of his jaw. Chanyeol is breathing shallowly,
and it’s safe to say the man’s been rendered speechless.

Baekhyun sits back on the edge of the bed and starts taking off his
clothes, and at the resultant rustle, Chanyeol brings his fully-focused
eyes back on the other, who crawls sexily on the bed and to the drawer,
giving a show of his ass, and brings lube with him. He remains on the
center of the bed, faces Chanyeol again, parts his legs and pours a
copious amount on his hand and cock.

Chanyeol watches intently how Baekhyun rubs his cock with his injured
hand, and the other fingers his ass hole. He drills his fingers deeper
with each wet thrust, and because he is starting to feel it, he forgets
about his cock for now because he will come, and uses his other to
finger his hole. He stretches the hole from both sides until it gapes in
the size of a ping pong ball, dark and drenched and inviting. Baekhyun
bites his bottom lip and looks up, flushed and sweaty. “Want you inside
me,” he starts, throwing his head to the back “want you so bad…”

Chanyeol’s cock pulsates and stands erect again, wanting to fuck that
hole and pound that ass. “Baekhyun…”

There's no air around me, when we get this close but there's no where I
want to go

You keep it a secret if you feel the same and leave me dying to know

Said man lifts his tempting, cat-like eyes and smirks at Chanyeol, and to
make him go a little even crazier, he keens in a low, mellifluous voice. It
works because, next thing, Chanyeol is pulling against the belt binding
his wrists like a mad man, his wide and attentive eyes never leaving
Baekhyun’s. The latter, enjoying the outcome of this game, stretches
the hole wider. He makes soft cries and shuddery whines that would
make any porno star blush, and Chanyeol, entranced and so fucking
turned on, is at the end of his tether.

'Cause I can't be without you

I'll be there when you need me most

I'll be there if you're ever alone

Together, we can grow old

I can't leave you I can't leave you

With a final, strong pull, the belt comes off and Chanyeol tugs at the
bandana next. He lifts up, leaving the chair creak at the loss. He
observes the way Baekhyun prompts up at the creaking and stills all
movements with his hands slowly sliding away from the gaping hole. He
smirks back at the half smirk Baekhyun is giving him, and approaches
the bed.

You're my way out

You're my way through

And I can't, I can't be without you

You're my way out

You're my way through

And I can't

Be without you

Baekhyun can feel the hot and power of Chanyeol’s body as it slides on
the bed and makes the edge dib. He props properly on his elbows and
smiles up at the pile of walking mystery wrapped in gorgeousness. He is
still a little uncomfortable from the dry ejaculate on his chin and neck,
but it’s the same discomfort that follows the horror of leaving Snowy
without dinner, but he knows the dog ate well and is sleeping on his
pad, so he relaxes. He reaches up with a shaky hand, attempting to
trace his fingertips over Chanyeol cheek but realizing it is covered in
lube and what else, he aborts the movement.

Chanyeol takes Baekhyun’s hand to rest it on his cheek, and rumbles

“You think I care about that?” he said, “I’ll be eating your ass out, babe.
This isn’t enough to make me even flinch.”

Baekhyun moans wantonly in anticipation alone.

~~~~~~

Under the quilt, Chanyeol’s thumb and forefinger are pulling at

Baekhyun’s nipple, which he had already abused throughout the night,
until it reddens.

“Stop torturing me, man.” Baekhyun gripes, lazily swatting at Chanyeol’s

hand. “Hey, do you think it’d have been different?”

“What would?” Chanyeol demands; his sleepy and velvety voice making
Baekhyun’s body shudder.

“If you and I didn’t meet, if you–”

“I have to stop you right there.” Chanyeol said, “The one thing I hate
most is what ifs. If you’re going to ruin my afterglow with things that we
both know aren’t going to happen, then maybe it’s time I hit the hay.”
“I know, but–”

“No buts, Baek.” Chanyeol pleads, “What’s the fucking point of going
down that road, huh? We can’t change the past. So maybe it’s wiser to
focus on what’s to come.”

Baekhyun breathes in a deep lungful and exhales, “I suppose.” He

admits on a grunt. “Do you have these thoughts, too?”

Chanyeol answers after a pause, “sometimes.”

For Chanyeol to admit that much, it’s huge. The fact that he thinks of
this, of how it’d have been if he and Baekhyun didn’t meet really
disheartens the younger. And like the man in question said, he doesn’t
want to go down that road, it’ll be painful, but he wants to hear
Chanyeol’s take on this since he is also part of this equation –he is
indispensable in this equation.

“Do you regret meeting me?” is what he’s concluded.

Chanyeol gives silence as a response, which would have prompted

Baekhyun into action in any other day but they just spent the entire
night rutting and mating, it wouldn’t make sense. He is glad he is facing
Chanyeol with his back so the latter wouldn’t see the crestfallen look in
his eyes.

After an awkward beat, Chanyeol unwinds his arm from Baekhyun’s

middle and sits up, and the latter is too lost and hurt and dejected to
move.
“I was the youngest in my family” He starts.

Baekhyun, still lost and hurt and dejected, and so curious, doesn’t
move.

“But I wasn’t an only child. I had two older sisters. We were a happy
family and I guess the fact that I was their baby brother made them very
protective of me, and so they invested a lot in me to get to where I did.”
He lets out a shaky breath. “I’m not sure how it really started but I’ve
always had abnormal thoughts and impulses. It got worse after my
parents’ death. You see, Baekhyun, if it were a natural death, I’d have
had more restraint. My parents were murdered and burnt, and one of
my two sisters was found under a bridge. She’d been raped, beaten and
raped” –he chokes on the words– “beaten and raped again…”

Baekhyun’s eyes flutter and tears, that he didn’t know welled up, fall
abundantly.

Chanyeol snivels, then the slight motion of the bed tells Baekhyun he is
wiping his nose.

“The police couldn’t find my other sister who was also with them that
night. Even now, I sometimes wonder if she’s still alive somewhere,
calling out to me.” He said, “That night they died, they were preparing to
surprise me for my birthday–”

Baekhyun’s eyes go wide.

“They died on my birthday, Baekhyun,” he confesses on a curt sigh, “I
couldn’t be here the other day. I didn’t want to spend that night
together with all of that on my mind. It’s not fair to you.”

Baekhyun cups his mouth to stifle his small cries. He forces his eyes
shut and tears continue to stream down endlessly, and silently.

Chanyeol was carrying too much of a weight on his shoulders, and he

was carrying it alone. To have a past like that and still live with some
fucked-up belief that living with the guilt is punishment for surviving or
whatever. What’s more, he secluded himself for the past week on
purpose so it wouldn’t affect Baekhyun, and all the latter did was
question the man’s fidelity. This man, and his big fucking martyr
complex and this fatalistic bubble he’s confined himself in… this is
worse than any torture that psycho subjected Baekhyun to.

“That’s why I said I wanted to keep a few things to myself.” Chanyeol

speaks again after a prolonged pause. “I don’t want to include you in
this, and I don’t want this darkness to swallow you too. You’re like the
light house providing me with a hope to keep hanging on, if you let this
darkness submerge you, I’ll have no one to turn to. Absolutely no one…”

Baekhyun has calmed down and his body has stopped shaking, so he
sits up, the rustling of the bed sheets not doing as effective job to get
his mind off Chanyeol’s snivels. He glances at Chanyeol’s hunched
posture and leans his back on the headboard, folds his knees to his
chest and hugs them.

“My car crash, the one that caused me epilepsy which you healed, it
wasn’t a mere accident.” He starts, his voice small, as though in shame.
“I’d been feeling fed up with my life. I wasn’t happy with this crappy
cycle of growing up, graduating and getting a job, marrying, having kids
and spending what’s left of your fucking life providing for them. Each
day, I felt like I was dying. As though a part of me rebelled the idea of
being a part of this robotic life. I became numb and emotionally
detached.” He shrugs and his action is lethargic. He lolls his head to the
side so that he is looking at Chanyeol with his red-rimmed eyes, a smile
pulling at his curled lips. “So one day, I swiveled my bike on a busy
frontage road.” His voice is steady now, “Didn’t even bat an eye.”

Chanyeol is slowly frowning up at him with evident reproach.

“You’d think meeting you makes me livid or sad, it doesn’t.” He declares

with his eyes glittering in the dim room. “There had been a time I felt
angry, but what I went through brought me to life again. I don’t feel
numb anymore, and I’m more appreciative of this life.” He eases his
posture and shifts closer to Chanyeol, his hands sliding around the
man’s shoulders. “I’ve always aspired to alter that repetitive cycle, and
when I thought I never could, I took the easy way out. Now, with you, I’m
starting to believe that it might really be possible.”

Chanyeol lowers his head and says nothing when Baekhyun straddles
his lap.

“You might think that I’m fragile, maybe I am, but I’m not breakable.”
He says, “Look, if you want me to stay outta your sight in each
anniversary, I will. I can give you that much space. I just want you to
stop thinking that I’d easily be swallowed by that darkness of yours. We
all have our demons to fight, and fight and fight, then get back up to
fight again–” He lifts Chanyeol’s chin to meet his eyes, “I don’t regret
meeting you.”

Something like absolute mirth flashes across Chanyeol’s face, barely,

before he is forcing forth another frown. “I’d never be normal,
Baekhyun, I’m not normal. Every time I think of how you’re associating
with other people, my skin starts to crawl. When you tell me about your
bartender neighbor, all I think about is how to eliminate the bastard
from our lives.”

“But you don’t do it” Baekhyun smiles self-assuredly, “this is what

differs you from the rest. You know it’s wrong so you don’t do it. I call
that functional. “

Chanyeol cocks his head bemusedly after a pause, “A functional

psychopath?”

Baekhyun kneads the base of his neck with gentle pressures, a cocky
smirk on his lips. “Yeah, functional.” He purrs.

Chanyeol shakes his head on a fond smile and then nods, “sounds
good.”

Baekhyun’s playful smirk morphs into a relenting, serene smile,

“Chanyeol, I’m strong, okay?” He said, “Whether you decide to share
something with me or nothing at all, it’ll be fine with me. I know a piece
of the puzzle now that will grant you the free pass if I ever get doubtful,
so you don’t have to keep a thought out for me. I’m a big boy.”

Chanyeol nods affirmatively, and then, without a warning, his calloused

hand goes to the back of Baekhyun’s head and gives it a gentle shove,
pulling him down and pressing their lips together. Baekhyun
immediately melts into the kiss and he rolls his hips, causing their
cocks to rub against one another.

SONG: SEAFRET – BE THERE

Alternative Finale (Happy Ending)

Baekhyun doesn’t know if he fell from fortune’s favor; certainly, the

knife’s sharp edge caressing the vein in his neck sure asserts that.

A couple of weeks ago, Chanyeol came up to him with a rare offer. He

asked Baekhyun to go on a three-night trip to the hot springs together.
As much as Baekhyun welcomed the change of airs, he also had to
postpone because of school which, surprisingly, Chanyeol didn’t oppose
to when he really had all the right to seeing how travelling is difficult for
someone with Chanyeol’s past. What both of them didn’t count on,
however, was a student Baekhyun helps deal with her psychological
crap having a mental break down on a Friday morning. The trip was
supposed to start in the afternoon because of the long drive, but the
juxtaposition had made him demure despite Chanyeol warning him that
he’d rescheduled enough. Baekhyun couldn’t just leave the girl looking
like a mess. He wasn’t even going to enjoy his trip knowing he’d left a
devastated student to deal on her own.

The trip eventually didn’t happen, and, for the next following few days,
Chanyeol stopped dropping by Baekhyun’s place.

It was a golden opportunity that Baekhyun had so flippantly tossed into

flames. He couldn’t imagine the thoughts that had pulled inside
Chanyeol’s head when he first came up with the trip, considering the
fact that it was Baekhyun who had been bitching about wanting to
leave town for a breather.
Because of school, Baekhyun couldn’t visit Chanyeol at all until the next
Friday.

Chanyeol is a jealous man in nature, and what’s more, he’s

unpredictable. He told Baekhyun once that he’d had better not either
touch himself or let someone else do it for him if the circumstances
couldn’t help and they couldn’t meet. Just like now. So from last Friday
to the next, Baekhyun had to endure hell. He knew that even if he did
touch himself, it wouldn’t be as helpful because his body had been
trained to react to Chanyeol only.

Not the point, at least not now.

Baekhyun collected his things thinking he and Chanyeol would make up

for two weeks’ worth of sex, and then he headed to the cabin in the
woods. Imagine his surprise when he found a note on the table
addressed to him that read:

[I’m going by myself. Don’t bother coming back at all this week.]

Beside it being a massive strike to his ego, Baekhyun couldn’t believe

he was being disposed of like unnecessary luggage. Chanyeol wanted
to play dirty, fine, two could play this game.

That night, Baekhyun went bar hopping and didn’t care if he had to
withstand every throbbing blast of music rattling his head; he had
become too used to the assuring silence in Chanyeol’s cabin that any
noise now that wasn’t fire crackling was pure torture. If Chanyeol was
out of town getting his freak on and enjoying himself to a great extent,
then so would he.
He trudged through throngs of people to reach the bar, ordered a beer
and checked up the bulky bartender’s ass.

“Heartbroken?”

Baekhyun looked up and found that the bartender had crossed his
muscled arms on the counter, and was peering down at him with a
smile. He straightened up and framed his beer with two unsure hands.

“As if.” he huffed, “Ditched.”

“Isn’t that the same?”

Baekhyun clicked his lips, “I was ditched, not dumped.” In a way, it

meant the same thing. Chanyeol abandoned him knowing damn well
that Baekhyun had been dying to go on a trip with him. He did that to
spite him for choosing that student over him. What was Baekhyun
supposed to do, then? Chanyeol wasn’t being fair, and it hurt.

The bartender nodded faintly and twisted his lips, “well, lucky for you,
Blue Shirt over there has grown a liking to you.”

Baekhyun left a brow in question, when the bartender jutted his head
towards the left, Baekhyun glanced over at said direction and found a
guy in a blue shirt, most likely in his late twenties, propping on the bar
and lifting his glass in a silent toast. Baekhyun looked at the bartender
again and narrowed his eyes, “he’s a guy.”

“I know.” The other replied in a tone so matter-of-factly.

“Do I have gay tattooed on my forehead?” Baekhyun gritted, and then
rolled his eyes, “not interested.”

“My bad,” The bartender drawled. “I’ll bring you another beer.” He did
as promised and faced the new client who ordered Martini, leaving
Baekhyun to mop and stew alone.

Baekhyun wondered what Chanyeol could be doing while he drank his

pain away. More than the trip itself, Baekhyun wanted to be with
Chanyeol the most. It sounded ridiculous when he thought of it: he was
the only one whining about wanting to see Chanyeol when the man
didn’t even care, was most likely getting attention from whores who
lend their holes for a few bucks.

The reason why Baekhyun was drinking alone was solely because he
had hoped to find solace in the bottom of the bottle, to forget about the
man who ditched him and just be free from worries for once, but the
hope had dwindled a long time ago –he suddenly chanced a fervent
glance at the guy from before and he started to convince himself that
he wasn’t bad looking.

Jeans dropped to his ankles, and head tossed to the back, Baekhyun
let out a prolonged gasp when Blue Shirt from the bar took his cock in
his mouth. He was delirious, and hurt, his head felt heavy and he was
very, very turned on. If this strange guy decided to go all the way,
Baekhyun wouldn’t have cared. He closed his eyes and, ignoring that
nagging feeling at the back of his head, tried to enjoy it because, other
than Chanyeol, no one has ever touched his body. Most of all, he tried
not to heave over the guy’s head.
Slowly, he found that he was gradually starting to feel it, maybe
because the guy had killer skills because, God Damn, could that man
suck. Bottom line was, he was starting to react. He’d told himself that if
it wasn’t Chanyeol, he would never even become hard. Yet this guy was
changing his reality.

He moaned with a thin voice and didn’t care if he sounded like anything
he shouldn’t sound like; he was feeling it. The guy was doing amazing
things to his cock and balls, and his head was a mushy mess that didn’t
care at that point about anything but climaxing.

Suddenly, the guy pulled away and stood up as though his bus had
arrived at the stop. He was a little shorter and thinner, but his skills
made up for what he lacked in physical appearances. It made
Baekhyun not regret his decision to head to the back of an alley with a
complete stranger to blow off steam.

He neared Baekhyun’s face and spoke, “you said you top but I’m
getting a different vibe from you.” He started, “I myself rarely top but is
it okay with you if I put it in?”

Baekhyun scowled. He was feeling good just a moment ago, why did
this guy stop?

The guy’s hands wandered down Baekhyun’s hips and slid to his
backside, “You make really sweet noises, and you’re pretty hot. I want
to hear how you cry out when I fuck you.”

Baekhyun finally connected the dots and started to squirm in the man’s
hold; just when he finally thought he’d hit the jackpot, turned out the
guy was just as sadistic as Chanyeol?
Nice.

“I really want to do you,” the stranger whispered with such fervency that
bespoke his eagerness. He began to nudge his fingers against
Baekhyun’s entrance and sigh at every small whine leaving Baekhyun’s
lips. “There’s nothing more satisfying than bringing guys like you down
a peg or two.”

Baekhyun’s heart beat out of pace as panic built up. “Let go…”

The stranger inserted two fingers in as if he had all the fucking right to,
and delighted at the sight of Baekhyun keening, “Holly shit!”

“Take it out, you fucker!” Baekhyun seethed, swatting at the stranger’s

face.

“Calm down,” the other bit out, “We’re the same, don’t panic.”

They were the same, how?

How in the world could Baekhyun be the same with anyone, with his
past and present?

Was this guy even for real?

Baekhyun snapped a heated glare at the assailant and smirked coldly,
“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole” he goaded, finally pushing him off with
a vigorous shove; the guy was shorter and thus easier to defeat.

“What the hell, man!” The guy whined.

“Listen here, dick head, if you don’t piss off, you’re gonna regret ever
meeting me.”

The guy’s brows twitched.

“Do I have to spell it for you?” He bellowed, “Piss off!”

He watched the man scramble up properly on his legs and finally bustle
away while muttering ‘psycho’ over his shoulder. Baekhyun sagged to
the wall and palmed his face: his life would be over if Chanyeol learned
of what just transpired. He could just man up and tell him if Chanyeol
ever received the inspiration to pry; Baekhyun is allowed to have other
things than Chanyeol’s egotism. Besides, Chanyeol was probably
getting his cock sucked right fucking then.

Like a rock dropping to his stomach, Baekhyun felt suddenly terrified of

Chanyeol, of his jealously, and his tendency to possess and dominate.
He felt terrified of the man Chanyeol becomes when he’s angry, and so,
for everyone’s safety, his furniture included, Baekhyun decided to keep
this night a secret that he would very much take to his grave rather
than brag about.

Beside the shock and the disgust, and the anger, Baekhyun couldn’t
believe he almost let some dumb jerk put his thing in him. Fear started
foraging through to him and messing with his head; he almost let a
stranger take him. He almost cheated on Chanyeol and maybe he even
did when the fucker got on his knees and gave a slapdash blowjob,
which, God damn, had felt so good.

Chanyeol wasn’t replaceable, and some random guy couldn’t fill up the
gap in Baekhyun’s heart just because he knew how to twirl and suck a
cock in his mouth. Even in a moment of anger, he shouldn’t have let the
man have his way with him –he fans on a light pole and heaves out
everything he’d eaten on the ground, including the beer the guy bought
and said was on him.

He looked up and caught sight of the phantom of high mountains

surrounding this town, and the woods flooring them. He’d been
plodding in and out of those woods for almost two years now, and he
couldn’t imagine stopping one day. Chanyeol living inside the woods
had somehow become a concept of its own, and Baekhyun couldn’t
bring himself to picture the man in another place. The woods
completed this image Baekhyun had of his lover…

His lover…

Chanyeol –Baekhyun’s eyes watered and tears spilled easily when he

blinked– he couldn’t lose him, God, he just couldn’t. Especially not
because of a stupid thing called ego. If Chanyeol wanted to go on that
trip by himself, that’s fine. If he did that to spite him, that’s fine, too.
After all, Baekhyun had stayed for a noble reason.

He staggers the rest of the way home. As he stands to connect the key
to the hole, he can hear Snowie barking excitedly. He plasters his
forehead on the door to stop his vision from swaying, and groans “I
know,” He shouts to quite the animal, “Give me a second.”
He finally manages to push the door open and, to his surprise, Snowie
wasn’t happy because of his arrival. Apparently, there’s a guest waiting
inside for his return, in the dark. Baekhyun stands rooted to his spot
beside the front door, keys in hand.

“Come in.”

Baekhyun nods like an enchanted idiot and walks in after closing the
door. “I should’ve known,” he steps into the living room, “Snowie only
gets like that if it’s you.”

“You reek.”

“Um, yeah” Baekhyun ruffles his own hair and flops down on the couch
after turning the lights on, “I was at a bar.”

“I can see that.” The other growls, “you left Snowie alone and you went
to get shit-faced?”

Baekhyun inhales a shaky lungful and then turns reproachful eyes on

the other, “Weren’t you going on a vacation?”

“I did go on a vacation.”

At that, Baekhyun sits up, his neutral expression falling, “You ass.” He
rebukes, “You knew how much I wanted to go, too!”
“Yes, what of it.”

The nerves Chanyeol sometimes had made Baekhyun question his own
limits. “What about me, then, why didn’t you invite me?”

“I did,” the other replies, he turns his eyes to the half eaten apple and
the knife on the table he helped himself to from the kitchen, and says
“you turned me down.”

“I only said to delay the trip a little bit.” Baekhyun flares his nose, his
cheeks starting to heat up.

“It doesn’t matter now,” He sighs wearily, “you were evasive and you
favored your work over us, you had it coming.”

Baekhyun shoots up to full height and glares fumingly down at the man,
“You’re the worst.”

“Why, because I worked my ass off to pay for the trip in advance, to
book us a room?” He starts to rise to his legs as well, and since he is
taller, he looks like a looming threat. “I wasn’t the one who abandoned
you. I didn’t start this.”

“Wait, wait a minute” Baekhyun lifts both hands and lowers his head as
though recognition finally downing on him. He looks up again. “You do
realize that the reason why I couldn’t leave was because my student
needed me, don’t you?”

“I needed you, too.”

Baekhyun scowls immediately, “you’re making no lick of sense,
Chanyeol.” He said in reproach. “Were you testing me, seeing who
weighed more for me?”

“And your answer knocked me off my socks, to say the least.”

“That’s not fair!” Baekhyun roars, his blushed cheeks reddening even
more with righteous rage. “That student was devastated. She hit rock
bottom and was self-harming. How can anyone turn a blind eye on that,
let alone her teacher?”

“What’s done is done,” He shrugs, like he’s the only one with the ability
to dismiss an argument, and added “You made your point.”

“You’re a selfish prick, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun smiles ruefully to himself.

He’s now sobering up and it all seems preposterous. “Sometimes I
wonder if the reason why I’m still putting up with you is because I’m
addicted to your cock. We don’t see eye to eye anymore.”

“Ouch, you’re hurting my feelings.” The other hums, showing an

amused expression.

“It’s true, though.” Baekhyun rubs his nape, and the scent of alcohol
wafts to him with the action. “I only said to postpone the trip, and you
even agreed. I didn’t favor her. I was merely helping a person who had
lost hope. I don’t know how you see this world but the way it is and the
way I see it, we can’t get along.” That’s not what he would normally say,
but, right at this moment, that’s how he feels. “Now, if you’ll excuse me”
–he faces the direction of the bathroom with his posture hunched– “I’d
like to take a shower and wash the sweat and cum –” his breath
hitches all of a sudden.

“What was that?”

Panicked, and wide-eyed, Baekhyun tries to lurch forward in a poor

attempt to flee but a marble hand on his elbow hinders his plan.

“I said” –Chanyeol repeats with a squeeze of his fist around Baekhyun’s

elbow– “what was that?”

Baekhyun takes in the hard and furious eyes on his and quivers. “What
was what?”

Chanyeol flashes a cocky smirk, “Don’t play dumb, you bastard, did you
whore yourself around in my absence?”

Baekhyun wrenches his arm from the other’s clutch, “mind your
tongue!” he raves, dull surprise in his tone. “You’re crossing the line.”

As though spurred on, Chanyeol yanks him by the lapses of his cardigan
and pins him down on the couch. As Baekhyun fights beneath to get
him off of his back, Chanyeol manages to undo his belt and remove his
jeans. Baekhyun swears and whines, but Chanyeol eventually touches
his precum-slicked boxers. He retracts his hand before his face and
eyes the sticky fluid.
Chanyeol gives him a hefty shove and levers up, livid. “You’re a slut.” He
concludes, “I leave for only a few days and you’re already looking for
cocks to fuck you?”

Baekhyun had tons of justifications to pick from, easiest was to tell him
he’d missed him and rubbed one out in the bar’s bathroom. It wasn’t
only going to save his bacon, but it was also going to make Chanyeol
proud and happy. Yet this voice in him urged him to spur him on even
more as payback for testing him.

Chanyeol moves things along for him by pulling him and forcing him to
turn, and that’s when Baekhyun sees the kitchen knife in his hand.
“Talk.”

Baekhyun knows this man has a better reign on his temper than the
Psycho Doctor ever did, so he’s confident the edge of the knife would
do nothing but caress the vein in his neck. He shifts in a way that
reveals his wet boxers, and drones “He had crazy skills. I came twice in
his mouth.”

Chanyeol’s eyes become dull as he stares on blankly, the knife in his

hand remaining on the other’s neck.

“He bottoms, but he said he wouldn’t mind doing me,” Baekhyun purrs
in false haughtiness, “his fingers felt so good inside me –” he barely
registered the clutter that followed of the knife falling to the floor and
then two hands coming up when the pressure already built on his neck.
His eyes go wide as he takes in the sight of Chanyeol, blank-eyed,
choking him with both hands.
“Don’t provoke me.” He warns, his voice deep and cold. “You don’t own
me, I own you. You so readily came back to me, ignoring all the times I
told you not to. You think I’ll just get over everything now?”

Baekhyun catches the sound of something woody getting hit and

figures that Chanyeol’s foot just knocked against the table. He starts to
seriously dread what Chanyeol’s tantrum would do to him, and Snowy
barking at the side isn’t helping at all. “Let go…” he gasps, his hands
swatting at the ones pushing the veins along his neck back in.

The look in Chanyeol’s eyes grows even darker, “You’re mine.” He said
on a heartless smirk, and added “If I can’t have you all to myself, no
one can.”

By that point, Baekhyun has become a wheezing mess. “Let go-…” he

rasps, “Chan… Chan-yeol”

“I’ll just finish you.”

Snowie snarls and barks at Chanyeol, and even attempts to gnaw at his
ankle but the man simply kicks him away, making him land against the
ground harshly with a whimper.

“I’ll finish you, and then I’ll finish off all the men you slept with.”

“I…” Baekhyun looks up through slanted eyes and catches a reflection

of sadness. He knows that if he doesn’t tell him, Chanyeol would
seriously kill him thinking he’d been whoring around. “I didn’t!”
Chanyeol eases the pressure on his neck only a little, and Baekhyun
yelps and takes a massive inhale of breath.

“I swear!” He pleads, “Only you…”

“What about the semen in your clothes?”

“I was pissed, okay? But I swear he didn’t do more than give head. He
didn’t even finish.” Baekhyun quickly gulps to finish his sentence before
Chanyeol finishes him. “He tried to force me, though, but I pushed him
off. That’s all that happened. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

Chanyeol’s hands remains on his neck, not pressing nor pulling away.
“Your mother’s alive.”

“My real mother,” Baekhyun clarifies, “My father remarried twenty years
ago.”

Chanyeol only nibbles at his bottom lip meditatively, remaining silent.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun cries, “I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry. I
threw up after he left. I couldn’t stand getting touched by someone
other than you.” It was the truth.

Chanyeol’s hands now slowly pull away.

Chancing his freedom, Baekhyun shoves the other off, sits up properly
and coughs, a hand going to retrace the fingerprints on his skin, then
up over his face. He keeps his folded arms up before his face, hiding
from the penetrating gaze. What makes it even worse is the fact that
after what he’s done, he still feels unjust.

It’s not like he expected a vouching for his actions, but being at
Chanyeol’s mercy at a time like this stresses the sense of hopelessness
he feels sometimes. He hides his face because he’s done showing his
weaknesses to Chanyeol while all the man does is exploiting them. He
hides his face because he doesn’t want to show his tears anymore.

Chanyeol only watches in silence how Baekhyun hiccups and sobs like
a sentimental after a bad breakup, unable to rein in his emotions. He
continues to eye his tear-streaked cheeks, waiting for what’s going to
follow after all that wailing.

“I’m not going to apologize to you.” He simply said when all Baekhyun
did was cry, “This is who I am, Baek, and you signed up for it.”

Snowie whimpers for their attention and trots closer, his ears drooped
and his tightly tucked tail pressed under his belly.

Baekhyun’s sobs reduce to mere snivels as he slowly puts down his

arms, revealing a face framed by red-rimmed eyes, a runny nose and
wet fringes. He deflates on the backrest and blows out a shaky sigh.

He allows Snowy to get on the sofa beside him to lick his tears away.

“If you’ve calmed down, go clean up.”

Baekhyun looks up, shimmering eyes pinning Chanyeol’s. “More than
your jealousy, I needed your compassion.” He says about that and lifts
up, pulling his jeans up.

Chanyeol’s eyes follows the other as he trudges towards the bathroom,

unescorted, and his chest, for whatever reason, clenches with a spoken
pang. Snowie beside him nudges his muzzle against Chanyeol’s side,
but he only pets his head.

Baekhyun empties what was left of his tears inside the bathroom and
only got out when he felt refreshed again. Dressed in a white plain T
and dark sweatpants, he leads himself to the kitchen where he smelt
food, and finds Chanyeol loitering in there with Snowie happily
sauntering beside his feet. He doesn’t want to know what they’re up to
so he retraces his steps back to the living-room and fans down on the
couch after turning the TV on.

Chanyeol comes up to him after a while and ignores how Baekhyun’s

eyes are trembling. “You didn’t dry your hair properly.”

As expected, there are no replies forthcoming.

Doesn’t he understand that Baekhyun is sulking and does not wish to

be bothered?

Silently, Chanyeol sits beside him and pulls up his arm, startling
Baekhyun. His hand pauses mid-air. He lets out a sigh and rests that
hand on Baekhyun’s head, ruffling his hair. “You’ll catch a cold.” He
warns, but his voice is gentle. “You should dry it properly.”
Baekhyun nibbles absentmindedly at his bottom lip, and pretends to
focus on what’s airing on the TV screen. “I’m watching this now.” To
make a point, he shakes the remote in his hand and cranks up the
volume.

Chanyeol makes his way back to the kitchen again without a complaint.

He deserved it.

A food commercial rolls in and it tempts the birds in Baekhyun’s

stomach as they start chirping, so he sets out to the kitchen and, this
time, finds Chanyeol setting the table.

“Hey,” said man hums, “since you’re done, let’s sit and eat.”

Baekhyun stands by the table and takes in the sight of beef shining on
a large plate, it looks so holly his eyes hurt, and he starts to contort his
brows. “What’s the occasion?”

Chanyeol shrugs and sits down, and motions to the other to do the
same. “Dig in.”

Like a starved hyena, Baekhyun gobbles down the pan-fried meat with
enormous appetite. He doesn’t even see the salad sitting in the dark,
waiting for a spotlight to be shed. Snowy doesn’t care either way; no
one is going to steal his share.

Aside from the obnoxious noise of someone chewing with their mouth
open, the thought of Baekhyun liking his cooking warms Chanyeol’s
heart. He dumps another portion of beef into his mouth and keeps his
eyes on Baekhyun, who’s already finished his share and is now
assaulting the salad. Chanyeol cuts his share in a half and places one
part on Baekhyun’s dish. He smiles at the sight of the man snatching it
like a cat and eating it with a satisfied moan.

Baekhyun drinks his wine at ease, making pauses between each gulp.
He keeps his half-dulled eyes on Chanyeol, studying the way he eats
like a royalty. Come to think of it, Chanyeol did use to be rich. He was a
genius, and a brilliant neurologist who had the unfortunate chance of
meeting a heartless bitch. The fact that he lost everything and was now
freely buying expensive meat made Baekhyun unfold the theories that
clang to that fact.

He doesn’t realize he was lost in thoughts until Chanyeol’s foot touches

his. It wasn’t accidental, and it wasn’t unlikable either. Although
Baekhyun has been sulking all night, he doesn’t feel any urgent need to
shuffle his foot away.

Chanyeol continues eating the last bits of his salad, and he keeps
touching Baekhyun’s foot in a deliberately sensual way. After he’s done,
he props on his elbow and takes his wine in his other hand. Baekhyun
mirroring his posture.

Their eyes meet; Baekhyun’s still red-rimmed but very alluring, and
Chanyeol’s dark and mysterious.

Baekhyun starts to gulp down the rest of the wine, tilting his head to
expose his bruised neck. At the sight of his bruised neck, Chanyeol
groans. He did that. It is his mark. He marked his lover…
Baekhyun blows out a refreshed sigh and slams the glass down, now
leaning on the table and letting his hand wander closer to Chanyeol’s.
The man surreptitiously rests his arm on the table too and finally
touches Baekhyun’s hand.

Their fingers brush against each other, and unable to stand the teasing
anymore, they twine them.

Baekhyun finished doing the washing-up and rolled down his sleeves to
pet the head of a sleeping Snowy. He switches the lights off, the
bathroom’s, too, and tramps towards his bedroom where Chanyeol said
he’d be, finding the man leaning on the door frame of the balcony, a
cloud of smoke wafting overhead and being drifted away by the breeze
of the summer night.

Chanyeol either didn’t hear his footsteps approaching, or he did and

just simply didn’t care. He stands out just by standing there sky-gazing,
a cigarette between fingers. He looks out at the streets illuminated by
the light poles as though it was a painting that he could only appreciate
from afar. His broad, lonely back and his silence don’t fit, but at the
same time, fit so perfectly. Chanyeol stands there as though the door
was the line that he couldn’t cross –light exists beyond that door, and,
unfortunately, he loves his darkness better.

He takes another suck of the cigarette, making the embers at its end
glow red.

Baekhyun’s chin meets his chest for a second, but he soon tips his
head to the back; he’s empowered his confidence, his and Chanyeol’s.
He takes a deep inhale and walks up to the man, seizes a hold of the
cigarette and steps into the balcony, pulling Chanyeol with him from the
elbow. He takes a drag and blows it out, keeping his eyes on
Chanyeol’s. God, it’s been a while since he had one of these.
Chanyeol leans on the balustrade with his back –as though being in the
open was enough risk, facing the world with his back was safer, and he
closes his eyes to further appreciate breeze stroking the visible parts of
his body and fluttering his hair.

“How was it, in the hot springs?” Baekhyun wants to know. He also
leans on the balustrade and continues to smoke the cigarette.

“I didn’t go.” Chanyeol deadpans on a slight shrug.

Baekhyun whips his head to him, “but the note…”

Chanyeol rubs his nape and winces, “I was pissed,” he started, taking
the cigarette from the other “I did that to make you suffer a little.”

Bewildered, Baekhyun looks askance at him, shaking his head dazedly.

He was almost raped because this bastard wanted to fuck-mind him?
Though, that was totally on him. “You have a rotten personality.”

“And you love me crazy despite that.” Chanyeol interjects on a smug

smile.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes even though his lips are lopsided into a smirk.
“So I’m guessing that’s where the beef came from.”

“Um, not really.” Chanyeol counters, taking another whiff of the

cigarette and making it hiss, “I spent the trip’s money on something
else.”
“What’s that, or are you going to tell me it’s a secret.”

Chanyeol doesn’t deign to answer. Instead, he closes his eyes and falls
awfully silent.

Baekhyun takes the cigarette from his fingers and sucks on it,
“Whatever,” he said, “You’d better take me somewhere soon. I’ll pay,
too, so let’s just leave these woods for a while.”

The desperation in his voice is raw, but Chanyeol doesn’t rush to assure
him of anything. He remains wordless with his eyes closed. Another
breeze drifts by, caressing his bare nape. It truly looks like he belongs
somewhere else, which makes Baekhyun jealous. He can’t bear the
thought of his man's attention being taken from him, not even by a
breeze.

He squashes the cigarette and flicks it outside; he doesn’t even care

where it landed. He shuffles closer, slips a hand to Chanyeol’s middle
and ducks to press his lips to that nape, causing a slight change in
Chanyeol’s stance.

During slow, deep and shameful love making, Chanyeol, still buried in
Baekhyun’s ass to the hilt, stops thrusting to take something out of the
nightstand’s drawer. Baekhyun is too flushed and dazed that he
doesn’t register the pause until Chanyeol was taking his left hand in
his.

Chanyeol peers down at his man’s blushed cheeks, his sweat-drenched

body and his cum-coated belly. He drinks in the sight of his slightly
parted plush lips and his glazed hazel eyes pouring tears from each
corner. He slips something gold and shiny on Baekhyun’s fourth finger
and then kisses it like a gentleman.

Baekhyun struggles to overcome the tides of pleasure Chanyeol’s

grinding against his good spot is giving him, and sees the reflection of a
ring on his finger. It gives his heart a massive jostle. He tries to prop up
on his elbows but the way Chanyeol holds his hand, and the way he
kisses it and even the way his brows contort… Baekhyun feels
motionless with happiness and disbelief: He’s being proposed to. He
isn’t hallucinating, nor is this a wet dream and those usually never dare
to go beyond the consensual raping.

He is being treasured.

“Chanyeol…”

Said mad shakes his head, an indication for him to be quiet, Baekhyun
obeys. He puts that hand down and Baekhyun hurries to kiss the ring: a
silent vow. Chanyeol hooks his arms under the other’s knees and
presses down until they are almost chest to chest, the bed creaking
beneath in agreement.

Baekhyun looks up with enamored eyes, and then allows himself to be

kissed on the lips.

Wordlessly, Chanyeol pulls from the kiss, pulling his cock to the head
and then slamming it back in to the hilt again, and repeats the action,
gradually growing faster despite the man under him screaming in
pleasure, he pounds and pounds until Baekhyun’s entire body starts
quivering. He doesn’t cry or moan. He utters no sounds as his body
continues to shudder and convulse. His cum spurts over his chest again
and Chanyeol, elated, halts all motions. Baekhyun, then, gasps so loud
as though someone had threatened to suck out the air from the room.

“Chanyeol!” He finally cries out.

“It’s fine…” Said man coaxes, bringing Baekhyun in for a hug as the
man clang to him so desperately. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He promises
into his ear, and added, his tone wistful, “That was a trembling orgasm,
Baek. It means you’ve just tasted a piece of heaven.”

What he, obviously, is oblivious to is that Baekhyun’s heaven is here,

with Chanyeol...

AN: I would like to explain something, this isn't the finale I’d originally
planned for this, but I know most of you were looking forward to the
'happy ending' and so I didn't wish to disappoint; HOWEVER, I am still
planning to post THE original finale with the kind of ending I want for
them. Please look forward to that.

You can upvote if you enjoyed reading?

In the end, I would like to thank each and every one of you for always
supporting me. I couldn't reply to your comments lately, but please
know that I've been sneaking in here and reading them and feeling
better about my life.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Official Finale P1

The resonance of soft ripples of water caressing his legs is an odd

sound Baekhyun isn’t used to hearing; he is used to the birds singing on
tree branches or on the sill of the cabin’s window, even the dull thumps
of Chanyeol’s axe chopping logs in the front lawn is natural now that
Baekhyun’s made the cabin his second home, but the water thing still
feels odd.

“You’re dallying.”

Intercepting his fascination with the colorless water slipping into the
plastic gallon jug, Baekhyun looks up, finding that Chanyeol, sitting
hunched at the river bank with Snowie trotting and jumping beside him,
has already finished unhooking his prey for the day from the snare and
tying its limbs together–a wild rabbit, of all things Chanyeol wanted to
make stew of; Baekhyun will fight tooth and nail to keep from skinning
that thing, and if Chanyeol ever receives the inspiration to glare at him
into doing it like he did earlier to have him fill up the gallons with water,
there’ll be hell to pay. Besides, it’s, what, 107 degrees outside; a bowl
of porridge would make a better menu.

“Yeah, well, sorry” he said, “the bottle’s hole is tighter than my ass; it’s
not my fault the water isn’t going in.”

Shaking his head sadly, Chanyeol flumps the squirming rabbit over his
shoulder like a zealous nomad, and he’s already shirtless so imagine
Baekhyun’s struggles, and he stands up. “I’m going back first.”
“Oh, no you’re not.” Baekhyun lifts up as well and hears a couple of
joints in his back and knees popping. “I’ve got two more to fill up and I
ain’t carrying all that by myself, alright?”

How Chanyeol’s eyes don’t fall out his skull when he rolls them is a
miracle, a miracle that Baekhyun isn’t really interested in celebrating.
The raven-haired gives his surroundings a fleeting onceover before
finally setting the terrified rabbit on the floor, and then plopping down
with his back against the trunk of a shadowy tree, Snowie just copying
him at this point as he sprawls on his four, his head tucked over his
front limbs.

“Happy now?”

Baekhyun’s sneer shows some of his teeth, “oh, I’m buzzing.”

No wonder he caught Chanyeol by the river the first time they reunited
five years ago, filling these jugs to the brim takes a lot of fucking time
and patience, and Baekhyun, although blessed with a variety of virtues,
he’s ready to kick them all to hell. His back isn’t protected from August
beaming sun –correction, boiling sun. Even a man holding grudges
wouldn’t be too harsh, heck, Wushu training would have been easier to
withstand. Now he’s standing here with no hat on, his skin just
absorbing the heat like it’s no one’s business and Baekhyun is
supposed to keep the posture until all the jugs are filled? Give him a
break.

To ease the heat a little bit, Baekhyun rids of his gray t-shirt, remaining
in his shorts only.

“An impromptu striptease?”

Again, Baekhyun looks up with a little pout; why does he have to get
water from Phlegethon while Chanyeol basks in the shade, and the
bastard isn’t very bashful on letting him suffer in silence; he has to rub
it in his face. Then, it clicks. And his pout morphs into a lopsided smile.
“If you promise to fill up the two jugs left, you’ll get some of this” –he
fondles his abdomen to deliver the insinuation.

Desperate, but effective.

Chanyeol seems to be considering the offer for a second before he

prompts up, “Alright, here’s the deal” he starts, “If you finish your show
properly, I’ll fill up the jugs and carry them all by myself.”

“You voyeuristic asshole,” Baekhyun huffs; two things can happen, this
could either work and Chanyeol would end up doing all the heavy lifting,
or some poor son of a bitch walks in while Baekhyun is standing there
with his cock in his hand, because he will hold his cock in his hand,
nothing will stop him from making Chanyeol regret challenging him.
“Fine,” he hisses despite his inner worries, and adds as an afterthought
“how hard can this be.”

Not hard enough, Baekhyun realizes following the ease with which he’s
fondling his abdomen and neck; it’s like he’s already finished a ten
month internship at Chanyeol’s cabin and he’s now putting everything
to the test, though, that can also be attributed to the fact that
Chanyeol’s seen every part of Baekhyun’s body so the latter found the
intricacies of stripping down and caressing his body quite painless.

Chanyeol is reclining on the tree bole with his arms behind his head,
like he’s expecting Baekhyun to fail and only entertaining the idea in his
mind while, at the same time, feasting his eyes with whatever Baekhyun
is doing inside the waters. He can see from the corner of his eyes that
Snowie has closed his eyes, too fed up with these two humans’ bull shit.

Chanyeol keeps his eyes on Baekhyun’s body, and the way he’s swaying
his hips with his neck tilted to the back in a way that shows the veins
and the love marks from last night scattered there. Baekhyun’s hair has
grown to his ears that’s why he has it wrapped into a messy bun, but
light brown locks still cling to his sweaty forehead.

The radiance of the sun beams assaults his eyes the moment Baekhyun
opens them, but knowing he’s giving a good show of his neck the way
that drives Chanyeol a little mad persuades him to hold on. He knows
Chanyeol is staring, boring his dark eyes into every visible inch of
Baekhyun’s body, so he decides to move forward with the show.

They’re outside in broad daylight, so the threat of some hiker or ranger

walking in here for some water is very real, and would be unavoidable,
which is all exciting if Baekhyun is being sincere.

He moves his hands to the button of his shorts, head tips forward so
that he can see what his actions are doing to Chanyeol as he unbuttons
the shorts. Thumbing at the waistband, he slowly slides it down along
with his boxers.

Chanyeol follows the clothes the brunet just neatly dropped to the
ground outside the water, and then he looks back at the completely
naked man save for the handmade leather bracelet on his wrist which
is something Chanyeol made for him for his birthday a while ago, and he
falls in love all over again with the sight.
Baekhyun’s sun-kissed body is glistering in sweat, his skin looks tight
and smooth, but also sun burned. And the hazel in his eyes –Chanyeol
leans forward to have a clearer view– is glinting brighter than the river
water and there’s no way that’s merely a reflection. Baekhyun’s eyes
are naturally more expressive, doleful but beautiful.

There’s a tightness building in Baekhyun’s chest that the man somehow

knows why it’s growing; five years ago, he had left a handful of friends
and foes –well, one, but Jooheon repented in the end and so he should
be redeemed from the nemesis-title– in the shade of an old tree and he
slipped into the woods to wash in this river. Now, despite the few
changes, it still seems like it’s a recreation of that day with Chanyeol
just a few feet away looking at him exactly how a man looks at a
woman.

Baekhyun knows a similar thought has got to have crossed Chanyeol’s

mind by now; the settings, the temperature and the flashbacks, there’s
no way this isn’t bothering Chanyeol the way it is Baekhyun. There’s no
way this isn’t exciting him, the way it is doing to Baekhyun.

Unable to keep the onslaught of memories of day they first met from
submerging him, Baekhyun reels around with such a dignified grace,
exposing the carvings and the barely visible welt marks on his back, as
well as the curves of his waist. Baekhyun’s no longer the ‘twink’ he used
to be back in college, he’s gained some weight and added some muscle
mass. He must say, he looks ravishing even to himself. He can almost
hear Chanyeol gulping from here, so, slowly yet again, he glides his
hands down his sides, his hips and finally his ass, and squeezes the
meat.

The way Baekhyun parts his ass cheeks to reveal the rim is making
Chanyeol want to leap at the man and do him right then and there. He
can’t believe he’s becoming hard watching Baekhyun fondle the meat
of his round ass while glancing over his shoulder with those expressive
eyes to probably make sure he is doing a good job, which, God damn,
he is.

The scrutiny is doing things to Baekhyun, and to his cock. He finds that
he loves the worshipping look Chanyeol is giving his body, and he loves
the reign of control he has right now over that man’s self-restraint; he
can blow it all to hell if he so much chooses. He presses his luck a little
harder when he slides an arm under his crotch and rubs his puckered
entrance, fingers brushing against it and teasing to go in.

At this point, Chanyeol is biting down on his knuckles not bolt up and
ruin the show as he watches the way Baekhyun inserts not one, but two
fingers at the same time and mewl at the resultant burn.

He’s been keeping one hand pressed to his left ass cheek so that he
gives a good view of what his fingers are doing, but he realizes his cock
is also standing and throbbing for some attention and he decides to
provide it. He can hear his heart pounding in his throat and the heat
rendering his logic useless, he can feel every vein in his body beating in
tandem and making him lightheaded.

His fingertips bump with that wonderful spot and Baekhyun’s knees
lose balance, bringing him down into the water with a splash. His
pressure on his cock doesn’t let up as he thrusts his fingers in and out,
hitting that spot repeatedly while rubbing his cock off until cum shoots
out, accompanied by Baekhyun’s broken moan.

Sitting in the cool water feels nice against his sunburns, and he can feel
his labored breathing and pounding heart slowly falling into a calmer
rhythm. Baekhyun parts his eyes open to check on the mess he made
into the same water they’re going to be using, and groans.
Now that he remembers, he isn’t by himself in these woods.

Baekhyun swivels, still crouching inside the waters, then his eyes go
wide the moment he finds Chanyeol’s silhouette standing above him,
masking the sun.

“I’m done.” He croaks. Despite the fact he really enjoyed that, now he
feels tendrils of shame enwrapping him.

“No, you’re not.” Chanyeol quotes back at him, his voice deep and calm.
“On your knees, Baekhyun.”

Scowling, Baekhyun says “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“It is now.”

Muttering a pejorative, Baekhyun moves closer to Chanyeol’s feet and

places his knees a little outside the water, but he is surprised when he
gets pulled up from the arm by Chanyeol, and made to stand before him
in all his bare glory.

He would like to vocally express his displeasure with the way Chanyeol
is handling him; after all, this is his show, but it all dies on his lips when
he actually sees Chanyeol’s eyes.

The tightness he felt earlier squeezes even more in the pit of his
stomach. This feels like a déjà-vu no matter how much Baekhyun
denies it. The way Chanyeol is taking in all of him, staring openly at his
collarbone, at his nipples and his cock, this is Chanyeol from five years
ago. It burns. It feels hard to breathe… very shameful.

A bird squeals in the distance, and, for the second time, it sounds like
an echoing scream. Then, just like that, Baekhyun is taken back to that
day of August 2008, a machete guy and a bowman hunting them
throughout these woods, his friends getting blown up and beheaded,
Chanyeol leading them to the cave and finally lifting the veil off his true
identity…

“Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun doesn’t realize he’s back on the ground until he opens his
eyes, but everything looks blurry, why? It can’t be over 107 degrees.
They haven’t reached the boiling point, have they? Why is everything so
blurry?

“Baekhyun.”

Said man shakes his head, he tries to lift up but the gravity’s grip on his
legs is more forceful. “Pull me up.”

Chanyeol helps him up again, pulling him out of the water completely.
“You good now?”

With his eyes closed against whatever these feelings clashing against
him without mercy, Baekhyun nods jerkily.

“Let’s just go back for now.”

Baekhyun feels Chanyeol’s hand pulling him but he summons all of his
strength to hinder his effort, “no” he says in a small voice, and quickly
repeats, sterner this time. “No!”

Chanyeol’s hand falls from Baekhyun’s arm, the two keeping their eyes
on each others’.

“If –” Baekhyun gulps, “If we don’t this now, it’ll mess me up, Yeol”

“We can do it in the cabin.”

The brunet is shaking his head too vigorously it’s a wonder he doesn’t
get a whiplash. He drops to his knees and works on unzipping
Chanyeol’s pants. “You don’t get it,” he tells the man’s cock, “you won’t
understand even if I explain it to you. You don’t remember.”

By the correlation of forces, Chanyeol has a pretty decent idea what’s

gotten into Baekhyun after a show that would give the strongest of men
a taxing dehydration from coming too much. Softening with a look, he
brings a hand to Baekhyun’s cheek. He’ll be lying if he said he wasn’t
surprised when Baekhyun batted it away.

He can’t measure Baekhyun’s pain. He just physically can’t because

he’s incapable of remembering. Although he sees bits and pieces in his
sleep, he knows it isn’t enough to measure Baekhyun’s pain. But,
Chanyeol, despite who he used to be and despite what he’s become, he
feels his lover’s pain. He knows Baekhyun is hurting so much,
sometimes even hating himself and those become obvious when
they’re having sex.
If he could, Chanyeol would turn back time and make himself
disappear. He really hates to see Baekhyun beating himself up about
something bigger than him.

There’s something about the settings here that’s giving Chanyeol a bad
itch all over his skin, and since Baekhyun’s gotten like this, it must have
something to do with what happened five years ago.

Well, no shit.

He suddenly feels Baekhyun’s lips lifting the head of his cock, and his
tongue flapping on it glans. Any thoughts or images of what might have
happened in here are distorted then by Baekhyun’s skill.

Baekhyun shuts his eyes against the voices and the images in his head
trying so desperately to make him regret choosing Chanyeol, and he
takes Chanyeol’s cock deeper into his mouth to give himself something
to focus on. He feels the cracked ground beneath his knees disperse
the more he grinds against it; the water level has decreased since the
beginning of June, leaving only dry marks in its trace.

“That’s enough, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun looks up from his perch, eyes glaring with a heat higher than
today’s temperature. To further assert his point that he’s the one in
control here today, he goes to deep-throat Chanyeol. It’s been a while
since he’s done it, probably weeks, and usually it takes Chanyeol some
coaxing before Baekhyun can swallow that cock and keep it in his
throat. Today, however, is different. Today isn’t about Chanyeol, and
isn’t about Baekhyun either; today is about the show Baekhyun started
and will have to finish.

No, not really.

Deep-throating Chanyeol wasn’t part of the deal; heck, Chanyeol will be

satisfied with just a quick hand-job so they would gather their stuff and
get the hell out of here before someone sees them… This actually is
about Baekhyun’s connection to this place.

He makes a noise suddenly, choked-off and desperate, hoping

Chanyeol would do something to make these thoughts disappear.
Chanyeol is happy to oblige with his hands splayed out on each side of
Baekhyun’s hair, grips tightly and then snaps his hips.

Baekhyun’s entire posture stiffens, his eyes widen and travel up but all
his sees is Chanyeol’s eyes looking back into his with an unforgiving
darkness. He should panic, he should scratch and claw his way out of
Chanyeol’s grasp but he simply doesn’t. This is the man he wanted to
see in here, and with the anniversary coming up and the memories still
surging around, this couldn’t be more fitting.

He cums just from that, keening around Chanyeol’s cock and making
the man speed up his thrusts until there’s really no space for air to
come in.

Chanyeol feels Baekhyun spasm and shudder, and so he lets him go

despite how hard he still is, only watching how he hacks into the floor,
fighting to get some air in. The display is something he would like to
relive and revel in.
He twists a fist into Baekhyun’s disheveled hair and brings his mouth to
his hard cock again, when Baekhyun faces away like he doesn’t even
fancy this, Chanyeol tightens his grip on the other’s hair with a hand,
and the other to his jaw, forcing his mouth open.

Baekhyun feels Chanyeol’s hard cock going into his mouth again and he
rejoices; it would have been so boring and unsatisfactory if Chanyeol
was happy with just that. Despite the fact that he’s resisting Chanyeol,
deep down he knows it’s just basic survival instinct; he wants this
probably more than Chanyeol.

The man in question inserts his thumb and cock into Baekhyun’s
mouth, exhaling at the way Baekhyun chokes on it. He returns his
hands to where they were before, and resumes the same unrelenting
thrusts.

By the time he let him go, Baekhyun was on his side on the floor,
coughing and spitting and swearing. Yet feeling very fulfilled.

“You’re such a vulgar pig,” he hacks as he sits up, the back of a hand
wiping away the trickles of cum over his chin and nose; there’s nothing
he can do about the mess between his thighs, though. “Always been.”

“If you’re done feeling sorry for yourself,” Chanyeol said “let’s finish and
get out of here.”

Baekhyun watches as Chanyeol lifts the two empty jugs left, uncaps
them and then reclines them under the flowing cascade next to each
other. Oh, so that’s how he does it. Well, Baekhyun could have used an
instruction instead of spending the entire hour waiting under the sun for
the stupid water to reach the top.
Leaving Chanyeol to the job he was appointed, Baekhyun goes back
into the water to clean up, and gets out while Chanyeol stacks the
bottles outside the river. He puts his clothes back on, and makes his
way to the rabbit to pick it up.

Looking down into the animal’s frightened eyes staring back at his
takes Baekhyun back to the dust-smelling shrubs, to Chen’s body being
decapitated with cold-blood because one of the killer had found him
troublesome. He doesn’t even get a chance to fight it before he’s
retching into the floor, expelling whatever he had for breakfast besides
Chanyeol’s cum.

Both Chanyeol and Snowie perk up at the noise, watching how one of
Baekhyun’s arms is holding on to the tree trunk while the man lowers
his to throw everything up.

Silently, Chanyeol closes the bottles and carries them both in each
hand. He returns to where the rabbit is poised, and he tries to lift it.

“I can do it.” Baekhyun says after clearing his throat.

“You’ve done enough.” Chanyeol responds, now placing the rabbit over
Snowie’s back. “Let’s head back.” Saying so, he carries the jugs again
and walks towards the shrubs, the dog trotting behind him and the two
finally disappear.

Baekhyun remains where they left him, too anxious and too uncertain to
follow them because he doesn’t know if it’s the wisest thing to do, it’s
like they’re back to October all over again and Baekhyun has to stand
there and watch the man from his hellish time in the dungeons wreak
havoc to his memories and emotions then leave like nothing happened.

One glance over his shoulder tells Chanyeol Baekhyun isn’t tagging. He
faces forward again, expression blank. It’s not like he didn’t expect this
to happen, didn’t foresee it even. He knows Baekhyun has been
hanging on by a thread, and it wasn’t Chanyeol’s sick and heartless
treatment that cut that thread, it was the memories that have been
there all along just around the corner, waiting for Baekhyun to allow
them a chance to storm his mind and shift his loyalty; which, true, it
should be to his dead friends, but Chanyeol can’t say he isn’t a little
disappointed, disappointed that he thought too highly of himself.

Honestly, with Baekhyun, it’s like walking on egg shells; you don’t know
which one will pop up soon. He’s known this the moment Baekhyun
accepted his confession, known the man could walk out of his life
because that life with Chanyeol is smothering, dark and cold.

It was only a matter of time; if Baekhyun doesn’t return after today,

Chanyeol won’t even blame him.

The cabin starts to come into view, and Chanyeol finally feels some
relief because keeping in the woods is dangerous; a lot of hikers come
and go during summer and he doesn’t want to risk it. Climbing up the
stairs of the cabin’s porch, Chanyeol pushes the door with his shoulder,
allowing Snowie to get in first before walking in himself, placing all the
jugs in the kitchen area.

The door remains closed, and Chanyeol berates himself for the sudden
lapse of his judgment; Baekhyun might not come back. It’s a constant
fear always keeping Chanyeol fearful of the morrow and that’s
something Chanyeol will just have to live with.
It’s well past the afternoon when Baekhyun finally makes it to the cabin;
Chanyeol has actually wagered it would take longer than that. Probably
forever, but even Baekhyun is capable of surprising him. He looks up
from the book he’s reading beside the window, so does Snowie who’s
sleeping at his feet, and they watch how Baekhyun doesn’t even meet
Chanyeol’s eyes as he heads for the bathroom in long, purposeful
strides.

Snowie is too fed up with their drama that all he does next is yawn until
all his fangs show, before tucking his face between his arms again.

Because the winters are cold here, the pipes usually need constant
thawing, and Chanyeol had had enough the first couple of years he
occupied the cabin. Besides, thermostatically controlled heat tapes cost
a fortune and Chanyeol had always had better things to spend that
money on. A kettle on the fire always did the job better than the
insulated pump enclosure which always required fixing. Now that it’s
summer, however, and the hot water isn’t usually required, they don’t
have to deal with the frozen pipes issue. So when Chanyeol hears the
water running, he knows Baekhyun is taking a cold shower.

Less than twenty minutes later, Baekhyun comes out of the shower with
this musky scent wafting after him; that’s what your get from lathering
your hair and body for that long. He has his towel wrapped around his
waist as he rummages in the kitchen for something to eat.

Chanyeol every now and then would chance a fleeting look at the brunet
to read the bad signs, overlooking the sun bites on Baekhyun’s back
and his deep frown and even the hair that somehow looks shorter now,
unkempt; Baekhyun must have cut it inside the bathroom. Chanyeol
concludes that things aren’t as bad as he feared. Baekhyun is just
sulking. Chanyeol can deal with that, one way or another.
Baekhyun isn’t looking for food per se, a glass of water suffices and
then he’s making his way to the bed, unwraps the towel and lets it drop
to his feet on the floor, before finally climbing into the bed and splaying
across on his stomach.

A while ago, Baekhyun, unable to handle some really warm nights in

this cabin where their wild exertions in bed made it even more so, he
suggested changing the position of the bed so that the footboard was
facing the window instead. Unlike wintery seasons, they can leave the
glass open now and enjoy the breeze that comes in and caresses the
lower half of the bed that’s facing the window and whoever’s on it.

When Chanyeol looks at his left, instead of his back, he sees

Baekhyun’s brazen display of his ass; the sun didn’t sympathize with
that part of the brunet’s body as it is also covered in slightly red
patches.

Around seven in the evening, Chanyeol forsakes his book, lights up the
oil lamp and opts to wake Baekhyun up; he hasn’t eaten anything since
breakfast, and even that has long been expelled from Baekhyun’s
stomach. With the back of his fingers, he brushes the brunet’s hair and
immediately feels a spiking fever and hot sweat sheening the man’s
face.

Baekhyun sighs in his sleep; he’s changed his position during the last
two hours and is lying on his side now, facing the wall.

Chanyeol works his bottom lip between his lips, still trying to decide if
he should rouse the man or let him sleep the fever off, but Baekhyun
must be starving even if the man himself doesn’t rise demanding for
some food.
Although the stew was delicious, and even Sowie agrees, Chanyeol
doesn’t know if it’s what Baekhyun needs. This… Chanyeol helped
create this situation. It’s because he was harsh on Baekhyun, telling
him to fill up the jugs without feeling the need to tell him how that
Baekhyun is splayed here, covered in hot and red burns.

It’s because he set up shop in this wretched town so many years ago,
that Baekhyun ended up sick now from remembering.

He really shouldn’t have come back, Baekhyun that is. Chanyeol is too
weak to leave and a coward to take the initiative, wanting Baekhyun to
make the first move, and be the bad guy…

Christ!

This is killing Chanyeol, and it’s killing them both like a slow-working
poison.

In a random moment where his thoughts are all over the floor, Chanyeol
leaves Baekhyun to make him something –porridge, yeah, Baekhyun
would love that– giving himself some space and time to think.

When he finally retraces his way back to the bed, he finds Baekhyun
still in the same position but with his eyes opened to masts.
Hesitatingly, Chanyeol places a glass of water and a bowl of porridge on
the cabinet, and sits on the side of the bed.

“You’re finally up.” He remarks, his fingers twining with each other.
Baekhyun only blows a heavy sigh through his nose, probably too tired
to even stir.

“I made you some porridge,” Chanyeol vaguely points at the bowl on the
cabinet before working over the bones of his fingers again. “You should
try and eat.”

“Not hungry.” Baekhyun’s voice is raspy, and weak. But they’re getting
somewhere if he’s talking, right?

“Nauseous again?”

Baekhyun shakes his head softly, and then closes his eyes.

Chanyeol doesn’t know how to broach this without saying something out
of the line, it’s like stepping on a landmine; Baekhyun is here despite
whatever struggles and battles he’s resisting in his own head, and
Chanyeol should be happy with that.

“I’ll let you sleep then.”

Chanyeol doesn’t even lift his backside when Baekhyun speaks again.

“I have a Headache.” He said, and added after a sigh, “It’s probably

because I stayed in the sun without a hat on.”
A heatstroke, excellent! A pill isn’t going to fix it, then. “Stay here,”
Chanyeol says, finally lifting up completely. He picks up the towel
Baekhyun dropped on the floor and goes to drench it in water. There’s
no fridge so Baekhyun will have to forgive him. He returns and places
the towel on Baekhyun’s legs.

The brunet lets out a little gasp, the feeling although comforting but was
honestly surprising. He moans while Chanyeol rights the piece of fabric
on his limbs.

“Better?”

“It feels really good, thanks.” Baekhyun promises.

Sitting back down, Chanyeol hacks a chuckle, “Don’t thank me” he said,
“This was my doing.” And then it comes out before he could even see
whether it’s alright to say it or not “I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“Me too.”

Chanyeol wants to rebuff the sound of his heart dropping to his

stomach, and the pang which follows, but he can’t. He might have been
a psychopathic killer, and even now he has some really sick impulses,
but it doesn’t mean he’s without a heart.

“That probably came out harsher than I intended it to be,” Baekhyun

said, now sitting up and pulling the damp towel to his chest. There’s a
beat of silence that isn’t as comfortable as the rest of their quiet times
together, when Baekhyun looks up, he sees a moth looping at the
mouth of the lantern like it’s having a dizzy spell before finally settling
on the rim. “Chen” he starts after Chanyeol thought that was the end of
their talk. “He was Hongbin’s friend. Although I wasn’t really close to
him but I still respected him. He was a good guy.”

Chanyeol watches how Baekhyun is twisting the end of the towel, but he
doubts any water would be squeezed out.

“Five years ago, near that river, I watched him get slaughtered like a
cow. I’d been by myself, chasing some dumb rabbit for lunch when I
found those damn killers dragging his body into the woods, and I
couldn’t move.” Baekhyun’s scowl deepens, and he lets go of the towel
to rub a hand on his face. “When they finally took him, I went back to
my friends and acted like we were out on a fucking picnic” –there’s a
subtle trembling in his voice like he’s on the verge but resisting his
tears– “Now I can’t help but think maybe if I did something back then
none of what happened next would have happened. If I took them
down, there wouldn’t have been anyone else left to hunt us. Those bad
guys were right there, distracted even, but I hid myself like a fucking
coward so I wouldn’t be next.”

There’s a small sizzle, and when Baekhyun looks up again at the lamp,
he finds the moth going aflame for going too near to the fire in the
middle, but still resisting the inevitable. He looks at Chanyeol now, at
his hunched back, at his intertwined hands, and he suddenly realizes
telling Chanyeol all that wasn’t for the best. The man is still struggling
with his dark impulses, and he really needn’t more guilt to push at his
engines.

But Baekhyun is in this as well.

Every time they go to the river, he can’t keep the resonance of his
friends’ screams and the images of Chen’s decapitated body.
Sometimes, he refuses Chanyeol’s invitation to go fishing only because
he would rather hide under his blanket than listen to the murmurs of his
friends’ spirits echoing throughout the tree lines.

Chanyeol’s been staring at a crooked nail hammered to the floor, brain

gears working themselves over until he couldn’t just sit there anymore.
He springs up like he’s been electrocuted, hands fisting and stretching
at his sides like he wants to punch something and if he isn’t allowed
this much space to walk and breathe the wall would take the brunt of
his fury.

Chanyeol knows eyes are on him, expecting a wrathful storm or any of

the like, but then the fight just seeps out of him like the life leaving that
moth burning into ash inside the lantern… Baekhyun is unfair.

“You can’t forgive me.” He concludes, now slowly reeling around and
taking in the way Baekhyun is still resisting his tears. “No, that’s not it”
–Chanyeol runs his fingers through the strands of his hair, eyes wide
like he’s finally made the connection– “You still blame me. A part of you
still does, and you can’t shake it off. Isn’t that it?”

Baekhyun’s silence is all the confirmation he needs.

Chanyeol hacks another chuckle, but this one is shaky. “What

happened to ‘I was a victim, too’ Baek? Or were just saying the prettiest
things to make me the monster and redeem yourself; who cares what
psycho Chanyeol thinks, your innocence is more important, right?”

“Chanyeol”
“No.” Chanyeol’s voice, unlike anything any of them expected, is stoic.
“I’m not surprised, and I’m not saying I have little faith in you. What I did
all those years ago, it can’t be rewritten.” Saying so, he looks down at
that crooked nail again like he’s already lost the battle. “I’ve done a lot
of evil it’s bound to come back and bite me in the ass, Baekhyun. I’m
not angry that you blame me, I’m angry that it was me.”

“It wasn’t you.”

No, Chanyeol didn’t mean it like that. “I’m angry that I was Hannah’s
guinea pig. I’m angry that it was my future as a neurologist that got
ruined. I’m angry that it was my family that got torn apart!”

Before he knows it, Baekhyun finds himself sprinting from the bed and
linking his arms around Chanyeol just as the man howls into the hollow
of his neck. He breathes harshly as he listens to Chanyeol’s painful
sobs, and holds on when Chanyeol digs his nails into his back for some
anchor to keep him afloat all the darkness he’s swimming in. Baekhyun
bites at his trembling bottom lip, the tears he’s fought come pouring
down and spilling all over Chanyeol’s hair as he tightens his hold around
the man’s shoulders, providing that anchor and that comfort Chanyeol
always acts like he doesn’t even need.

Baekhyun is also a little ashamed that the purpose of everything he

said back then was to get Chanyeol to do something for him that
includes venturing outside the man’s comfort zone; not this!

“Chanyeol” he whispers into the man’s ear just as Chanyeol starts to

calm down. “You’re too harsh on yourself, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol only keeps the position, face buried under Baekhyun’s jaw.
“Well, this is awkward.” Baekhyun said after a long spell of silence.
They’re still hugging with Baekhyun standing stark naked. Well, at least
Chanyeol has calmed down. “I don’t know if I should say this because it
might be a little too late” –Chanyeol doesn’t make a sound– “Chanyeol,
I said what I said not to make you feel responsible. I said it before, and
I’ll say it again and I’ll say it anytime you want and I’d still mean it, you
were a victim and you are not to blame. I’ve been there, you idiot, I
know the whole story.”

Chanyeol starts pulling away, brows crinkled. His nose is a little red and
the hairs of his untrimmed stubble glisten with the leftover of his tears.

Baekhyun places his palm on the man’s cheek, smile genuine;

sometimes, it is Chanyeol who needs the reassurance. “I don’t blame
you, Chanyeol. And I’ve forgiven you a long time ago, the way I know my
friends would if they were here and learned the real story. Please, for
my sake if not for yours, stop blaming yourself. You’ve punished yourself
enough as it is, let Hannah take some of that burden.”

After a pause, Chanyeol’s scowl thins out. “Then what the hell was that
all about?”

Looking guilty with a sheepish grin, Baekhyun juts his chin at the door’s
direction. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

Baekhyun gives him a pointed look, “you might not like the sound of it.”
“I just cried my eyes out like a baby, you’re talking or I’m not going.”

“Touché,” Baekhyun smirks, now sliding that hand down to Chanyeol’s

sternum. “Alright, fine. Let’s go there first, you’ll know everything then.”

Once he’s dressed, Baekhyun tells Snowie to guard the cabin as he and
Chanyeol who’s carrying the lantern in a hand, head out in complete
silence.

Summer nights are easy on them, comforting at times even despite

their heat. The two of them get a lot of things done and would still be
left with more free time to just hang out, and Baekhyun really enjoys
those moments.

After Baekhyun was left by the river earlier to make a choice, he could
hear his friends’ spirits murmuring again, a hum carried by soft breezes
that kept the tree leaves in a constant rustling state, offering any forlorn
some company. He could hear whispers, asking ‘why’, their voices a
never seizing song. When he finally made his decision which was to go
back to Chanyeol, the whispers stopped.

“What’s the throw for?” demanded Chanyeol, now jutting the lantern
closer to Baekhyun’s hand where he’s holding the throw.

The brunet stares on in silence, keeping his gait steady. “I don’t want
ants crawling on me.”

The other creases his brows. He’s already noticed Baekhyun walking
them back the way that leads to the river, and although that and the
fact that Baekhyun is carrying a throw kind of give Chanyeol a pretty
decent idea what’s going on, he still isn’t entirely certain; it could all be
in his head.

Upon reaching the river, Baekhyun spreads the throw on the ground
next some trees, knees down to right it from the corners before sitting
down on it. He ushers to Chanyeol to do the same. The man places the
lantern a little far from the throw so they wouldn’t accidently kick it and
cause it to break, that could set all these woods on fire. He returns to sit
beside Baekhyun.

As the two listen to the crickets buzzing around them as though in

celebration, they can’t help but watch as the river water gets shaded in
golden all because the lantern’s flame is dancing like that last flicker of
hope.

“You think there’s someone camping next to us?” Baekhyun asks with
his eyes on the waters.

“Um.” Chanyeol replied. “Too late to worry about it, though.”

“Good.” Huffing so, Baekhyun removes his shirt in a fervent way, tossing
it aside and using Chanyeol’s distraction to swing his leg and straddle
him, his hands immediately settling in Chanyeol’s hair as he presses
their lips together only to stop halfway to peer down into Chanyeol’s
blown irises.

In that second, where Baekhyun’s eyes are burning with raw desire and
his lips quirking into a trusting smirk, everything falls together and
Chanyeol lurches forward, taking those lips in his again. The reaction is
fucking immediate. Natural, even. Baekhyun presses against his lips
just as hard, just as passionately, with his fingers raking through
Chanyeol’s hair like he wants to drag his nails on the scalp and mark
him. Baekhyun groans into the kiss from the dizzying heat and the
pounding pain radiating from his head and all over his sunburned skin.
He lets Chanyeol spin and pin him against the ground and kiss him
drunk, until he forgets everything, until he forgets to breathe.

Chanyeol feels Baekhyun’s hands impatiently tugging at the hem of his

shirt, and he delights in response because this is really going to where
he wants it to. He isn’t going to care right now. He isn’t going to think
about the consequences of them exposing themselves to the world like
this. He just isn’t going to care because his body is craving this. He aids
the other by slipping his shirt past his head, and then his lips are soon
ravishing Baekhyun’s again, the man who isn’t bashful about showing
his bare hunger just as he is.

Baekhyun’s hands clutch at the black locks; how fucking desperate had
he been about wanting to do this since the beginning of this morning.
He lets the man’s tongue soar inside his mouth and rub his, lets his
hands unbutton his shorts so long as he gets to feel the touch of this
dark hair on his fingers.

Shaky fingers splay and then clutch at the throw, dragging on the fabric
and leaving dented marks behind.

“Fuck” Baekhyun’s knees scrape against the ground with every snap of
Chanyeol’s hips. He drags a hand to his ass cheek, and pulls so that the
other has more access, and he isn’t discontented with the resultant
pleasure as the bigger man pounds his ass.

Chanyeol’s thrusts recede bit by bit. He slips his fingers into the brown
hair strands, and clenches a fistful, pulling it backward until Baekhyun
whines at the harsh treatment. He bares his teeth and brings them to
the pulse point on the pale-skinned neck, just nibbling and eliciting
small moans from Baekhyun.

“Move,” Baekhyun barks through gritted teeth. “More, Chanyeol. I need

more.”

Chanyeol plasters his smile against the feverish skin, letting his tongue
lick at Baekhyun’s earlobe before snapping his hips again and speeding
up pace.

Baekhyun’s eyes go wide at the sensation of Chanyeol’s cock drilling

deeper, rubbing at his favorite spots; it’s even more amazing when
Chanyeol uses his other hand to jerk Baekhyun off.

It doesn’t take long before he shoots his cum, and with the pressure
rounding his shaft, Chanyeol also spurts cum.

What follows is a sequence of harsh and shallow breaths, cutting each

other off. Baekhyun lies there braced on the floor with Chanyeol’s
weight on his back, he takes a moment to catch his breath, before
superstitiously sneaking from the added weight and flumping to the
side.

Chanyeol is still on his knees, his cock tucked in his crotch. He sweeps
his tongue over his bottom lip and directs his gaze at Baekhyun’s. The
latter prompts up, understanding the meaning behind that look, and,
so, he parts his knees and spreads his legs, remaining on his back.

As though under the effect of a spell, Chanyeol moves again, settling

between Baekhyun’s legs, hooking his arms under his knees and
pressing down against his chest. Chanyeol rests Baekhyun’s legs over
his shoulders and presses even lower, bringing his chest over
Baekhyun’s and his nose to the other’s, and he stills.

Baekhyun takes a few labored breaths through his nose, before huffing
“Are you trying to be boring, because I’m fucking bored, Chanyeol.” He
props his head off the throw, connecting his lips with Chanyeol’s and
enjoying the kiss as it heats up and prolongs.

Instead of his shoulders, Chanyeol is keeping Baekhyun’s legs parted by

pressing his large hands on them as his cock keeps thrusting in and out
of Baekhyun’s ass, reducing the man to a withering, moaning mess.

The buzzing of rogue crickets and the rustling of tree leaves fail in
distracting Baekhyun from the absolutely fulfilling sensation of
Chanyeol’s hot cock pounding into him. “Fuck, oh God, Chanyeol!”

The moans alone make Chanyeol delirious in the head. He skews his
angle a little so that his knees are off the gourd, the momentum
bringing more strength to his thrusts. He watches how Baekhyun’s
pupils sink under his head, mumbling ‘right there’, before he forces his
eyes shut. “I’m coming” he yelps, all his blood rushing in his body and
the pleasure explodes in him. “Baekhyun…”

Baekhyun’s arms wrap around the bigger man’s neck, nails digging into
his skin as he readies himself for the searing heat that’s going to seep
into his ass. “Give it to me,” he growls in Chanyeol’s ear. “Chanyeol, give
me all of you.”

Chanyeol does.
He does and revels in the shade of relief when Baekhyun doesn’t run
away…

PART TWO

With his breath drawing in, Baekhyun comes to, opening his eyes and
sighing at his surroundings which seem different from the view of
Chanyeol’s chiseled chest bracketing him in safety. He hears the whir of
an engine, low and muffled, and hears the chatter of people in his
vicinity, almost overshadowing his bated breath. Sitting up, he finds that
he’s been coiled on a two seats row like the ones in Chen’s van, the
square window right at the side, showing the landscapes this vehicle is
zooming past bathing in a light as bright as the sun’s, but not as hot.

Terror seizes him, and Baekhyun sprints up not knowing what to expect.
His suddenness prompts whoever is sitting in the row in front of his to
lift up. The sunlight is gushing and the strange person gets shaded in its
rays, but when they finally turn and approach Baekhyun, he relaxes.

“Sojin”
The raven-haired smirks at him, juts her chin for him to scoot to the
window so she can sit next to him, and then they both stare through the
glass.

The silence only lasts for a beat before Baekhyun faces her, eyebrows
furrowed. “Where’s the van heading to?”

Sojin shrugs a shoulder in a way that is so much like her. “Beats me,”
she simply says, “We’ve been on the road for some time now though,
doesn’t seem it’s going to stop soon.”

Baekhyun knows this is but a dream, a creation of his subconscious

because you don’t have a sleepover in a crime scene with the alleged
killer pounding you and guilt eating away at your heart and not see
something like this, so he goes along with it.

Sojin, then, nudges his upper arm with hers. “So you went ahead and
did it,” at Baekhyun’s questioning look, she scoffs and says “you know
what I mean, otherwise why would we meet here.”

He really doesn’t know what she means, that is, until Chen, dressed in a
plain grey shirt and jeans, comes up to their seats, swollen scars visible
all across his neck and arms, and that’s when Baekhyun remembers
that the man was gored in those places with a machete.

“Yo,” he says with his nasal voice, now crossing his arms on the
headrest of the seats in front to have a better look at them. “I see he’s
finally up.”
Baekhyun takes another long look at Sojin and finally discerns the scars
covering her neck and the side of her face, there must be a puncture
wound in her chest; a chill goes down his spine and he recoils, his back
to the window. “What the hell is going on here?”

Sojin and Chen share a quizzical look, before the raven-haired blows a
heavy sigh.

“Don’t panic,” she said, “you’re not part of this tourist group. Your time
hasn’t expired yet,” she looks away “not much I can say about Yifan
though.”

At the uttered name, said man hollers from the back of the vehicle “As if
you’re one to talk!”

Alarmed, Baekhyun lifts up and twists around, only to find Yifan lying on
some seats at the back of the van, his face twisted in pain and his
middle finger is raised as a response to Sojin.

Chen chuckles, “don’t be surprised,” he tells Baekhyun, “It’s probably

because the dude never said nice things to people.”

“I remember.” Baekhyun says, and leaves ‘clear as daylight’ unspoken.

If Yifan was disdainful towards someone with epilepsy, Baekhyun
wonders how he was towards normal people. A quick onceover shows
him Hyojung sitting by herself, sad eyes on the window. “Where’s Se
Hun?”

Chen shrugs both shoulders as he eyes the brunette across from them.
“No one knows,” he said, “he never showed up here.”
“Maybe he’s on a different trip.” Sojin comments.

The two men stare down at her, before Baekhyun flumps on his seat.
The raven-haired follows Baekhyun’s eyes with hers, and then, out of
the blue, she smiles.

“You okay?”

Baekhyun nods; he doesn’t know what or where this is but he can

handle it. “Yeah, sure.”

After a beat, Chen asks “are you happy?”

Baekhyun’s doleful eyes travel up to Chen’s and they’re wide and

vibrant, they overwhelm Baekhyun. He parts his lips to answer but then
considers it for a moment, what they really mean and, God, the
realization knocks him off his socks. He nods, but this time falteringly.

“You don’t seem too sure, bud.” Chen jests, sharing a chuckle with
Sojin.

Baekhyun lowers his head, not knowing whether or not it’s wise to
answer, but he owes it to them and so he does. “I am,” he starts, “I’m
happy. I’m sorry.”

A hand comes batting at his hair, rendering it unkempt. And when

Baekhyun looks up in reproach, he finds the other two smiling at him.
“You’re not angry?”

Sojin checks with Chen first before answering, “We used to be, but we
also came to know what happened all those years ago. It wasn’t
Chanyeol, well, not technically. And since you endured a lot to keep us
all safe, you deserve this happiness.”

While Baekhyun gawks at her, Chen makes quick motions with his
fingers, “We don’t hate you, man.” He assures, “We don’t exactly like
your boyfriend, but if being with him is the reason you think we’re angry
then it’s all in your head.”

“We want you to be happy.” Sojin finishes for him.

Baekhyun’s eyes are trembling, looking from Sojin’s to Chen’s, before

they finally shed tears because how miserable has he been, all those
years, wanting his friends’ forgiveness. Now, they were offering even
their acceptance.

“I’m sorry,” he cries, “I’m so sorry, but I love him.”

This time, those fingers pet his hair instead, and that’s what breaks
Baekhyun’s tears into wrecked sobs.

“Don’t you think it’s time for you to move on from what happened?”
Sojin wonders, and Chen adds “You’ve punished yourself enough as it
is, I think it’s time.”
The lady nods, “I think so, too.”

Overcome by his tears, Baekhyun doesn’t notice he’s awake until he

feels Chanyeol hugging him closer, that chest of his offering shelter.

“What is it, Baekhyun?” he whispers into the brunet’s ear, “A bad

dream?”

Far from it, actually.

Baekhyun clings to the man with all his might, more sobs wracking his
body as Sojin’s smile and Chen’s kind eyes start to fade away. He clings
to the man with all his might, because he knows his friends won’t hate
him for it now.

“Chanyeol,” he starts, his hands linking together behind said man’s

neck and his forehead nuzzling the bearded jaw. “Chanyeol, I just had
the happiest dream …”

***

When he left Chanyeol’s cabin this afternoon and came home to grab
some beer and food, Baekhyun never expected to find Hongbin,
dressed in a flamboyant shirt, flip-flops, cargo shorts and matrix
sunglasses, waiting on him at the door, his duffel placed next to his feet
like he’s in Hawaii waiting for the bus.
“’The hell are you doing here?” Baekhyun’s been swinging the keys in
his hand but stopped the moment he found his best friend lifting up
from his squat to greet him.

“Nice to see you, too, buddy.” Hongbin removes his sunglasses and
immediately squints under the onslaught of the beaming sun coming
from the frosted windows, “I missed you, too.”

Baekhyun nibbles at his bottom lip for a moment; alright, he may be in

the wrong here, but Hongbin should have learnt by now that
unannounced guests are the worst type of people, the last time stands
as proof. He walks up to his friend and blows a small sigh, arms linking
around Hongbin. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “I’m really happy to see you.”

As they pull away, Hongbin smiles up at his friend with his thin lips. “You
too, bud.” He said, “And before you accuse me of stuff that don’t exist, I
did call to say I was dropping by, you just never picked up.”

With fingers scratching at his temple, Baekhyun nods, “Yeah, sorry, I

forgot my phone when I went jogging this morning.” Lies come so easily
to him now; he’s been doing it for months.

Hongbin, however, eyes Baekhyun’s cork sandals, “in those?”

“Are you lecturing me about the way I dress, seriously, you?” Baekhyun
feigns the tone of someone offended as he motions to Hongbin’s shirt,
but what he’s really trying to do here is distract the other from his lies.
“You ruin The Matrix’s reputation.”
Just like that, Hongbin catches the hook, giving himself a searching
onceover. “What’s wrong with the way I look?” He quickly pins
Baekhyun with a pensive look though, “Hey, Baekhyun, I’ve been calling
since yesterday but you never answered, what’s up with that?”

There’s a pause where Baekhyun’s panic renders him speechless; he

left the phone home because he’d already spoken with his father and
told him to say hello to Hongbin, so there was no need to take it to the
cabin where there’s already no signal. As he gulps, he feels the lump in
his neck bobbing up and down.

“Battery was dead.”

Luckily for him, Hongbin’s attention span is shorter than a dog’s.

“Whatever," he said, now leaning down to pick up his duffel and, by
doing so, he misses the way Baekhyun blows a silent breath of relief.
“Open the door, will ya? My throat is parched.”

As though on auto-mode, Baekhyun brings the keys and opens the door,
going in first, his eyes start fast-scanning the room for anything that
might have been left behind by Chanyeol. Hongbin shoots his flip-flops
at the wall like a teenager and walks in farther towards the living-room,
where he finds Baekhyun rearranging whatever’s on the coffee table.
He drops his duffel to the floor and makes his way to the kitchen,
mission to find a cold beer accomplished as he pecks it out from the
fridge, and returns to slump on the couch with a grunt.

Assured that nothing here is out of place, Baekhyun flumps on the

armchair at the side, “How’s Youngji?”
Hongbin takes another swig, sighing wistfully at the soothing sensation
down his dry throat. “Good,” he answers, “She’s great, man. I think
she’s the one.”

Brows lifting up, Baekhyun scoffs, “How do you figure?”

There’s a pause where Hongbin’s eyes focus on the surface of the

coffee table, and then they look up at Baekhyun’s. “I just know.”

Nodding, Baekhyun asks “how’s everyone else?”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; they both know the anniversary
is in two days.

Hongbin shrugs a shoulder and swings an arm over the armrest of the
sofa, his posture fully relaxed. “They’re moving on,” he said, “but they’re
not forgetting.” And then he added, more seriously “No one’s ever going
to forget.”

Baekhyun lowers his gaze. “I know,” he said, but he didn’t count on the
flashes of his dream coming back to him, and he stills completely as
what if’s convince him to try and see Hongbin’s take on it. “Hey,
Hongbin,” he starts, and the guy hums in response, seemingly
distracted by whatever memory is playing in his head; this particular
time of the year always plays with their minds. “You remember what I
told you about Chanyeol” –Hongbin snaps a glare at him and Baekhyun
almost forgoes his attempt at finding out his best friend’s thoughts on
this– “About the hypnosis and everything…” he trails off, hoping
Hongbin would take the hint already; it’s hard enough to bring this up,
he doesn’t think he can delve into it any more than he has.

“Yeah, I do” Is all the shorter man said.

“Alright, here’s a hypothesis for you” he said, fingers twining together.
“Let’s suppose Chanyeol never died in the fire, and, with the psycho
shrink gone, the hypnosis wouldn’t be in effect–”

Hongbin cuts him off “what’re you trying to say?”

The look in Hongbin’s eyes doesn’t waver, and Baekhyun sees the
admonishment clear in them for even bringing up the killer’s name. He
doesn’t think it fair to Chanyeol; the man suffered enough for his
crimes, he’s lost everything and he’s not hurting anyone anymore,
someone should recognize that aside from Baekhyun. “I’m saying if
Chanyeol were to show up again, what would you do?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Just, humor me.” Baekhyun licks at his lips swiftly. He’s sitting at the
edge of the seat, fingers intertwining and popping. “I’m telling you that,
hypothetically speaking, Chanyeol didn’t die in the fire and he’s back,
but you already know that he had no control over his past actions, what
would you do?”

Hongbin looks… offended, oddly enough, he doesn’t act on it. He lets

out a deep sigh after an intense beat of silence, “it doesn’t matter if he
was under hypnosis or not,” he finally said, “he killed people, he’s a
monster, and monsters should be put down.”

Every nerve in Baekhyun’s body that has gone taut, aches now, and
every flutter of his heartbeat that has gone up, comes to a gradual stop.
“Someone has to pay for those deaths, alright? Whether it’s that psycho
killer or his psycho shrink, it wouldn’t make a difference.”

It wouldn’t make a difference?

Is that the conclusion one would come to after learning the truth about
Chanyeol’s career that was destroyed, or his future that was flushed
down the drain, or his family that was killed many years ago? Is this
really the only justice there is, couldn’t people see that the man’s
suffered enough, but they have to compare him to his shrink, too? And
not only that, but he has to be put down, like some animal?

“Is that really what you think?” Baekhyun’s voice is small, like he’s
beseeching for a change of opinion, a jesting ‘Nah, just kidding. I would
give Chanyeol a chance because everybody deserves a chance’. But he
gets Hongbin’s blatant honesty instead.

“Yes.” Hongbin simply says, “That’s what I think. Why should I give that
monster any reprieve, it’s not like he deserves it. He killed and tortured
people, he raped you for months. He’s not getting my sympathy no
matter what.”

Suddenly, it’s like a switch gets flipped, and all Baekhyun wants is for
Hongbin to get the hell out of his apartment, out of his life, and to never
come back. The twinkle in his eyes dulls and the knot in the pit of his
stomach undoes. He lets go, his tense shoulders sagging and his
posture relaxing. He had a feeling Hongbin was going to say something
like that, in fact, he is positive that if he asks anybody else, they’d give a
similar answer. They all want to see someone pay for the deaths of
those young people, if Chanyeol is caught, they would send him to the
gallows like an offering, and rejoice at the sight of his last breath
leaving his body. And, Baekhyun, no matter how disappointing this
reality is, or how opposing it tends to be to him, he’s not going to give
up on Chanyeol.

“Why are we arguing about this anyway? That psychopathic bastard is

dead, and we’re alive. We survived, Baekhyun, cheers for us.” Saying
so, Hongbin lifts the bottle up and then to his mouth, all unaware of the
waves of despise crashing inside Baekhyun’s head.

“Yeah,” There’s a blank look in Baekhyun’s eyes, “cheers.”

***

Splayed on his bed, Baekhyun stares at the ceiling, his arms crossed
under his head. There are distant grunts of birds turning in their nests,
probably sleep-cooing. He hears the muffled noise of static coming from
the living-room where Hongbin is sleeping on the couch.

Earlier, there were throngs of people crowding that restaurant which

Baekhyun frequents; he thought it had to do with the fact that it was a
summer holiday. As he was seated across from Hongbin in a corner
booth, two turkey clubs and two opened beers on the table, and jazz
music in the background drowning out the people’s chatters, Hongbin
started expanding on why he believed Youngji is the one, how greatly
supportive she is, how forgiving and kind she is, and how
understanding. Baekhyun had been listening, with undivided attention,
to every word spoken and yet deriving the meaning from what remained
unsaid. Hongbin was his childhood friend, he knew him like the back of
his hand. He could read the subtle hints Hongbin was dropping since a
part of him felt like he couldn’t describe Youngji and do her justice.
He listened because he didn’t want to dwell on the little voice
whispering evil things in his ear about Hongbin.

“At each anniversary, she would stick by me, never leaving my side.”
Hongbin said, his eyes on the bottle neck in his hands. “Last year, I was
so pissed at you” –he gave his friend a cheeky smile– “for obvious
reasons, of course.”

Baekhyun returned the smile, “Bite me.”

Barking a sudden laugh, Hongbin nodded, and his laughter receded.

“But, yeah, was so pissed that I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I got angry
at the smallest things. I don’t know, I guess it was because of the
reminders around every anniversary. But, Youngji, she would know how
I’m feeling and she would spend the entire night by my side, even if
we’re not saying anything.”

“She sounds like an amazing person.” Baekhyun commented, teeth

nibbling at his bottom lip.

“She is,” Hongbin affirmed, “and that’s why I decided, I’m going to ask
her to marry me at the beginning of next month.”

Baekhyun lifted surprised eyes, “That’s –shouldn’t you give it a little

more time?”

Hongbin shook his head and took a swig of his beer, “No need,” he
said, “she’s perfect for me. I’m not getting younger and nor is she, we
make a good living, and she’s happy with me, well, at least I hope she
is, so there’s really no need to wait anymore. I’ve made up my mind.”
They made a toast for that.

The music in the background changed: something Indie and a little

bubbly lightening up the atmosphere, and Hongbin’s mood. The man
pinned Baekhyun with an amused look before asking “what about you?”

Baekhyun looked up. “What about me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Hongbin groaned, pointing the bottle at him. “You’re
seeing anyone?”

The pupils in his eyes trembled, and he quickly lowered his head. “You
could say that.”

“Ho, ho, now, we’re talking!” Hongbin sneered, some of his teeth
showing. “A he, or a she? Let me guess, another Taehyung?”

Rolling his eyes at him, Baekhyun gulped his beer, “None of your
business.”

“Like it or not, if they’re fucking my best buddy, it makes it very much

my business.” Hongbin said, “Now talk.”

There was a pause where Baekhyun’s defiance kept him from saying
anything; the person he had been dating was not someone Hongbin
would vouch for, or respect, or accept. Baekhyun had had better think it
through, but before he could do that, he was already saying “He’s
nothing like Taehyung, in fact, he’s nothing like anyone I’ve been with
before.”

Hongbin had obviously given him some time to sort out his thoughts to
voice them out, but seeing that Baekhyun wasn’t saying anything else,
he asked “Is he the source of those red marks on your neck?”

Baekhyun snapped terrified eyes at his friend, finding him staring

blankly at his neck.

“You either didn’t notice, or you did and just didn’t care if they showed.”
He pointed out, “I actually had some doubts that you liked to show them
off. Do you like that kind of stuff now, Baekhyun? To brag about being
toyed with?”

“Take it back.” The accusation was visible in Baekhyun’s eyes, but that
didn’t deter Hongbin’s resolution.

The other shrugged, “Deny first and I might.” –Baekhyun narrowed his
eyes at him in question, but Hongbin’s blank stare relented, and he
started chuckling– “I’m kidding. Dude, I don’t care what kind of sex life
you’re leading, as long as you’re happy, it’s all good.”

Baekhyun’s stare started to soften as well, the corners of his lips barely
lifting into a smile.

“Is he treating you right?”

With how their relationship had been, Baekhyun was still foreign to how
things ought to be between them. He did not know whether what he and
Chanyeol did was tolerable just because it had been justifiable due to
their past together, or had he just been going with the flow, allowing the
abuse because one) reassurances would soon follow, or two) he had
always liked it that way.

“Yeah” Baekhyun eventually decided that, no matter how bad it had

gotten, Chanyeol always showed how much he cared in his own
roundabout way. “He is.”

“Good.” Nodding, Hongbin said “It’s reassuring to know you still have no
game with the ladies, though.” He winked at him.

Giving another eye-roll, Baekhyun took a larger gulp of his beer. “You
can have them,” he huffed, all in good humor. “So long as she doesn’t
have a dick, I’m not interested.”

“Hey, you might enjoy getting pegged, alright?” Hongbin defended, “a

lot of guys do.”

“You sound so sure,” Baekhyun teased, “have you tried it?”

Flustered, Hongbin said “No fucking way, man. I like giving it, and I like
the person I’m giving it to, so I’m happy with what I’ve got.”

“I’m happy with what I’ve got, too.” Baekhyun simply said.
There was a beat of silence where Hongbin regarded his friend with a
deep stare, before finally smiling up at him. “That’s what matters.”

When they arrived home again with Baekhyun practically dragging

Hongbin’s drunken ass, and finally tossing him on the couch where he
would be sleeping until the next day, Hongbin rose from his stupor to
stare dazedly at his friend as the man stood there watching him.

“You coming back with me?” he slurred.

Baekhyun gulped; he knew why Hongbin was there even if the man had
said nothing all the time they’d been together. “You know I can’t.”

“It’s the fifth year, Baekhyun.” Hongbin sat up, neck cranked up so he
could keep his unfocused eyes on Baekhyun’s, “You owe it to our
friends.”

Baekhyun crossed his arms over his chest, and wetted his lips. “I owe
them nothing,” he said, “Even if I did, I’m sure I’ve been forgiven a long
time ago. I’m not going back to that place, not for you, and not for the
empty caskets. I moved on, Hongbin, I’m going to live my life from now
on and forget everything.”

“You jerk” Hongbin’s temper had always been the worst if inebriated.
“They died for us; they died so we can live!”

“True,” Baekhyun said, uncrossing his arms. “Don’t you think they’d be
happier to know that we are?”
Hongbin frowned up at him.

“My loyalty to them is something that doesn’t need to be proven by

attending the ceremony, Hongbin. Please, try to understand that with
the way I am, I can’t go back, and I can’t face anyone.” He said, “I’m not
ready.”

Lowering his head, Hongbin said “That’s always your excuse.”

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun sighed, “But the way I see, I’m not ready. If our
situations were reversed, you’d have at least been able to understand.
But you can’t. No one can. Please, just don’t make me do this.”

There’s a moment of prolonged silence, and then Hongbin leans to the

back and blows a heavy sigh.

“Fine, have it your way.” He said, “But if they start asking, I’m not
covering up your ass this time.”

Smiling, Baekhyun said “I never asked you to.”

Hongbin rubbed a hand over his face and slid sideways, ready to sleep.
“What about you?” He elaborated after Baekhyun arched a brow, “your
theory about Chanyeol earlier, what would you do if the psycho was still
alive?”

That honestly caught Baekhyun off guard, and he found he’d gone pale
and wide-eyed. “There’s no point pondering a hypothetical, Hongbin,
and you know that.”
“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, man, you’re tired, and so am I, let’s just go to sleep.”

Baekhyun whined, turning to leave.

There was something being said, it sounded muffled, but the bits that
had managed to catch up to Baekhyun’s hearing made the man halt in
his tracks. Reeling slowly, he took in the way his friend squirmed on the
sofa, muttering promises to his best friend.

“Nothing will ever happen to you again, Baekhyun, I promise.”

Baekhyun stood there, overshadowing him, smirking down at him

amidst the silent darkness; did Hongbin think Baekhyun’s reaction
earlier had been because he was scared of Chanyeol and what
imagining him still alive would mean to him? Oh, Hongbin was truly in a
blissful state of ignorance, which Baekhyun was happy to maintain if
the man would just grab his things and leave in the next dawn.

“Good night, Hongbin.”

“’night” The man murmured, sleepily.

Baekhyun looks away from the ceiling, an arm still pillowing the side of
his head and the other wedged between his folded knees. He hopes for
sleep to come, but he knows no such thing will happen…
Unlike what he thought, sleep did come to him eventually, and did take
him to a land of light-hearted dreams which Baekhyun forgets the
moment he twists around and grabs his phone from the nightstand to
check the time. It’s past the noon, and he isn’t surprised; he spent the
night struggling to free himself from the grip of those evil whispers, and
when he wasn’t doing that, he was turning in his bed to sleep on the
colder spots.

Upon entering the bathroom to wash, Baekhyun finds Hongbin sitting on

the toilet with his face on his phone. They acknowledge each other with
a curt jut of chin, before returning to their business.

With his teeth brushed, Baekhyun reels around, an arm braced over the
rim of the sink and the other on his hip, and he says “thought you’d
already left.”

Hongbin’s eyes travel up at him, “disappointed?”

Baekhyun sneers. “Very.”

Hongbin looks at the screen of his phone again, elbows on his knees,
the sight of his shorts pulled down to his ankles ruins whatever this
tough façade he’s trying to trick Baekhyun with. “Youngji called, said
she booked a ticket for me” he informs, “I’m leaving around five.”

With the hand on his hip, Baekhyun scratches at his neck, “How many
tickets again?”

Without looking up, Hongbin asks “why, changed your mind?”

“Not a chance,” Baekhyun defends, now turning to leave. “I’m going to
make us something to eat, any special orders?”

“Banana pancakes!”

Baekhyun shakes his head sadly, “you’re such a wuss.”

The afternoon was slow, long and unbearably hot, and the longer it
dragged on, the surlier Baekhyun got. He counted the minutes for when
Hongbin would finally leave, twisted his bottom lip between his teeth
waiting for the clock to hit five already.

When it finally did, Hongbin got off the couch to get ready, leaving
Baekhyun to the rest of the movie they started together. He moved
around the apartment, collecting his things from the bathroom, his
phone charger from the kitchen, and stocking his duffle bag with a beer
and two small water bottles.

At last, he returns to where he left Baekhyun lounging on the couch,

and hands him a small box.

Baekhyun lifts his eyes to him after scowling at the box. “What is it?”

The other shoves it closer to his best friend, “just take it” And added
after Baekhyun took the box, “it’s a gift from Youngji and me.”

Curious, also delighted for receiving a gift, Baekhyun opens the box,
finding a harmonica with the italic word Manji engraved on its black
surface, he turns it in his hands, taking in the carved words, the holes,
and the shining metal coating the object.

“Looks expensive.” He comments, eyes still beholding the harmonica.

“Yeah,” Hongbin said, now pushing his hands into the pockets of his
cargo shorts, “Eighty Bucks.”

With a look of surprise, Baekhyun faces the other, “Eighty bucks for this
thing?”

Hongbin shrugs, “We paid forty each,” he said, “Do you like it?”

“I have to, after hearing the price!”

Hongbin makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and an exasperated

exhalation. “Don’t worry about it, man” he said, “We wanted to do this
for you. Youngji was the one who suggested it actually, said you might
enjoy learning how to play the harmonica.”

“Yeah, I can blow.”

“I have no doubt in my heart about that, my friend.” Hongbin said on a

scoff.

“Screw you, okay?”

Lifting up, Baekhyun shoos the other towards the hallway, “Get out
already, leave, and, just, go back to your girlfriend.”

Breathing out a small laugh, Hongbin picks up his duffle and heads to
the door, Baekhyun following behind with the harmonica in a hand.
“You sure you don’t want to come with?”

Rolling his eyes, Baekhyun says “how many times do I have to keep
repeating myself?”

Hongbin stops and turns when they’re finally by the door, all playfulness
gone. “What about after the anniversary, would you come if I invited you
to the wedding?”

Blowing a long sigh through his nose, Baekhyun nods. “Do you even
have to ask” he said, and added after Hongbin looked so disappointed,
“Of course I’d come to my best friend’s wedding.”

Lightening up, Hongbin nods.

“Actually,” Baekhyun holds up a hand, “Wait here, I have something I’d

like you to deliver to Youngji, as a ‘thank you’ gift for thinking of my well-
being.” Saying so, he turns and goes back inside, leaving Hongbin
grumbling about becoming their messenger.

Baekhyun remembers buying matching coffee mugs with the words

‘You’ and ‘Me’ painted on each cup; he’d planned to take them to the
cabin but never had the chance to. Now, he thinks it’s a wonderful thing
that Youngji and Hongbin can have them. He finds them in the
cupboard, still in their box. He places it on the counter, and looks
around for a piece of cloth to wrap them in so they wouldn’t break:
Hongbin isn’t the type of guy to worry about stuff like that.

After being done, Baekhyun carries the box in two hands and walks
back toward the hallway, when he finally looks up from where he’s
stepping, he grinds to a halt. A cold numbness spreads all throughout
his body, making him lose the sensation in his limbs, and the box falls
from his hands, its content making a muffled shattering noise.

A furious growl followed by Hongbin shoving his forearm into Chanyeol’s

neck make Baekhyun wish this were a dream. Hongbin looks different,
like nothing his countenance has ever displayed, he looks maniacal.
There are angry veins popping all over his neck and temples. He’s
putting all of his strength on his limbs to keep Chanyeol pinned to the
wall.

“Chanyeol–” Baekhyun is trying to speak, but it seems the numbness

has reached his tongue too early.

Hongbin snaps a glare at Baekhyun, lips tight. “What the hell is the
meaning of this, Baekhyun?” he glowers, “why does he own a fucking
key!”

Baekhyun’s eyes fleetingly glance up at Chanyeol’s blank stare, the

man refusing to look his way. There really is no explanation if Chanyeol
used the key to come in, nothing can deny the theories Hongbin must
be building with the other two keeping silent.

“What the hell is going on!?” Hongbin roars, pressing his forearm more
against Chanyeol’s neck.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Chanyeol suddenly drawls, “Jesus, we have to explain
it to the slow ones.”

Baekhyun glares at him heatedly; egging Hongbin on is not what they

need to be doing right now, what in the world is Chanyeol thinking.

The look of anger in Hongbin’s stare morphs into bare confusion as he

faces the man from his nightmares, “Wha…” he breathes out, “what are
you saying” –he turns that gaze on Baekhyun instead– “what’s he trying
to say, Baekhyun?” when the man remains quiet, Hongbin bellows
“Talk!”

Baekhyun jumps in his skin with his eyes shutting, hating to see the
feeling of betrayal manifesting in Hongbin’s.

“You weren’t supposed to know” he finally talks, his voice small and
scared. “Hongbin, I’m sorry, I’m –”

Hongbin cuts him off “shut your mouth,” he said, darkly, “This is sick,
you’re sick.”

Baekhyun lowers his head against the blows, he knows he deserves

them.

“Since when?”

Ignoring the sharpness in his tone, Baekhyun sniffles and answers,

“Since October”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Baekhyun” at this point, Hongbin sounds so
defeated, as though he’s also hoping to wake up from this. “You’ve
been fucking this psycho for a whole year?”

Baekhyun only gnaws at his bottom lip, keeping silent and hoping
Hongbin would give him a chance to explain, and maybe even
understand their situation.

“For a year–” Hongbin cuts himself off to think for a moment, “Wait a
second, this is why you asked me all that stuff yesterday?” he faces
Baekhyun who’s lifted his chin up to probably give off a strong
impression, “You prick, did you lose your fucking mind? You asked me
that, knowing this psycho is very much alive.” He marvels, “Just what
did you hope to accomplish from that?”

“Hongbin, please” Baekhyun takes a slow step forward, “just let me

explain.”

“Explain what,” Hongbin blares, “That you’re spreading your legs for a
maniac who killed all of our friends?!”

Then Chanyeol’s voice breaks the silence again, “so being angry gives
you the right to be a dick to your friend?”

“You shut your trap,” Hongbin, despite the height difference between
them, lands a kick to Chanyeol’s middle, and doesn’t allow him to
double over. “Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he admits, “You
killed my friends, and tortured my girlfriend, what right do you have to
lecture me about my mannerisms?”
“So you’re blaming him for what I did back then?” Chanyeol sounds
calm, stoic even, unlike anything Baekhyun expected.

Hongbin lets out a scoffing breath, “what’s with the personality

transplant, jerk? Did you retire from psycopathy and join a temple?”

“I was manipulated to kill, you moron,” he said in response, “not all

killers are born psychopaths.”

“Oh, yes, that whole hypnosis story,” Hongbin smirks, “Well, you see,
you might have fooled Baekhyun with that, but you can’t fool me. You’re
a killer, you enjoy it. It’s in your blood. I saw it in your eyes multiple
times, you asshole.”

Baekhyun decides it’s worth the risk of a punch and moves even closer.

“Hongbin,” he starts, “I understand your frustration, but just give us a

chance to explain.”

“Baekhyun!” The man warns, “It’s unwise to reason with me right now.
This isn’t something you can just shove under the rug and hope for the
best, okay? First of all, you’re harboring a criminal, a serial killer, and
second, you’re playing boyfriends with a monster who enjoyed watching
all of our friends die gruesomely. There’s nothing to explain here,
Baekhyun. You have to open your eyes and see what kind of crap you’re
in!”

“I see that you’re unfamiliar with the term prima facie,” Chanyeol hums,
“Alright, what do you want to do now, since you’re being so hard-
headed?”
“Call the cops, Baekhyun.” When said man refuses to budge, Hongbin
sends him another glare, “Move your ass already.” As Baekhyun
remains motionless, Hongbin glares at Chanyeol instead like it’s
somehow his fault. “I see what’s going on here, you’re threatening him.”

Chanyeol, unable to hold it in, scoffs. “I’m the one being threatening?”

“Does he have some sort of leverage or material to blackmail you with,

Baekhyun?”

“Negative,” Baekhyun answered, now placing a hand on Hongbin’s

shoulder. “Just let him go, okay?”

“Not gonna happen.”

Baekhyun and Chanyeol exchange a look of worry, before the brunet

says “I know that you’ve been expecting bigger things from me, good
things, and I tried to be the person you all want me to be, but, Hongbin,
I can’t defy reality.” He said, and strangely, he felt lighter for finally
admitting that aloud. “When I met Chanyeol again, he didn’t want to
have anything to do with me. He was broken and lost, like I was, and for
that, I forced my way into his life again. I never regretted that decision in
all those months we’ve been together.”

Hongbin shakes his head vehemently, “this is insane…”

“You’re my best friend, my brother, and my ally, Hongbin, I promise I’m

hurting for choosing him whenever I think of our deceased friends, but I
don’t regret my choice. Chanyeol was being manipulated to kill those
people, it’s the truth that I’d been through hell to find out.” He starts to
tug at his friend’s arm now, “Just let him go, and I promise we’ll be out
of your life before you even realize it.”

Hongbin looks at him with hurt in his eyes. “Why do you have to vanish,
when all this is his fault?” Saying so, he releases Chanyeol’s neck only
to grab at his collar instead. “Just die, already, die you fucking psycho!”

“Hongbin, please!” Baekhyun’s tugging starts to become more

desperate.

“Did you twist his mind too, huh?” Hongbin propels the bigger man,
anger turning his face red. “Did you program him to go nuts after
hearing nebula, too?” –Baekhyun’s eyes snap up at Chanyeol’s that
remain blank– “How did you convince him with that lie!”

It is said that natives who lived their entire lives by the sea can read the
advance of a tsunami, and those who lived in deserts, can foresee the
weather, but neither Baekhyun nor Hongbin predicted Chanyeol to twist
his arm over and then around the latter’s arms to swivel his upper body
and smack Hongbin’s head against the wall, making the man fall to the
ground without a noise.

As Baekhyun stands there, trying to understand what just happened

with a look of horror on his face, a hand on the back on his head
clenches and bangs the side of his head against the wall, and then
complete darkness.

There’s a dull ache in his head that is gradually growing insistent, and
Baekhyun answers the call to wake up, his eyelids slowly parting open,
unfocused pupils flitting about and sinking under his head, only to come
to focus thanks to the onslaught brought on to the side of his head.

“Wakey, wakey”

Hearing the disembodied voice, Baekhyun glides his eyes up, catching
sight of a blurry shape in his vision. He blinks, and Chanyeol’s amused
eyes and lopsided smirk looking down at him finally bring him to harsh
awareness.

“Man,” Chanyeol, who’s seated on the coffee table, marvels, “that

always fascinates me.”
LAST PART

Beakhyun tries to recoil, the action instinctual after sensing that

something isn’t quite right with the man’s cold smirk or the darkness in
his eyes which he only saw while shackled to meat hooks. He only
manages to scrape the side of his bruised head against the panel of the
floor, and that’s when he realizes that the movement of his limbs has
also been restricted. He looks around; a simple examination of the
room from his spot tells him the ugly news: Hongbin is also bound to the
other armchair’s foot, but unlike Beakhyun, he’s sitting down, his chin
on his chest, obviously still in the clutch of his dreams.

Chanyeol follows where Beakhyun’s looking, and then looks back at the
brunet, “oh, him?” he says, “He’s going to be fine, worry for yourself.”

Beakhyun’s beseeching then is muffled with a cloth he realizes, and all

he manages is a garbled noise through his parted mouth.

“Nah uh,” Chanyeol swings his index, “I’ve caught on; I’m not going to
be locked up again, alright? I guess it’s been fun, you know, playing
house and all” –he smirks down at Beakhyun, the way that used to
send the man to a cold sweat– “but fun time is over, or, should I say it’s
starting now?”

Beakhyun goes for a kick, but he finds his ankles are tied together with
a belt, and all he manages to do is kick the side of the table and hurt
his knee.
With a leg over the other, Chanyeol braces an arm on the table top and
the other rests over his lap. “I must say, I kind of miss our times
together, Beakhyun.” He blows a wistful sigh, “You and I together with
the toolkit, and the house?” –He shakes his head sadly as though he’s
regretful he can’t have the dungeons again– “those were the days, love.
Those were truly the days. Instead, now I have to scrape by in the woods
like a dirty rat, how laughable!”

A noise in the back brings his expressed monologue to a stop, and he

looks behind, finding Hongbin slowly lolling his head while grunting at
whatever pain radiating from his head.

“Oh, you’re up already?” Chanyeol gushes, “Excellent, let’s have that

long-awaited reunion, shall we?”

Beakhyun props his head off the floor to watch what Chanyeol is
planning to do now that he’s lifted off the table; this isn’t happening,
this is worse than Hongbin finding out Beakhyun and Chanyeol have
been sleeping around with nobody knowing. He remembers Hongbin
blurting out the forbidden word, the key to Chanyeol’s madness, but it
remains strange. It’s been years, why was Chanyeol’s psychosis still
connected to that keyword?

They were in the process of explaining to Hongbin that what they had
was special and that Chanyeol had changed; having him get a sudden
relapse does not bode well for any of them.

Not that it matters, really. What’s done is done, but what’s important
now is to find a way to fix this, and fix Chanyeol. He knows it can be
done, their past stands as proof, but with the cloth so tightly fastened
around his mouth, he doesn’t know how Chanyeol, his Chanyeol, is
going to be able to hear him.
Chanyeol flumps down on the armchair with a grunt, his arms on its
rests, and he moves the hand closest to Hongbin’s head to the man’s
hair, fingers playing with the blood-dried locks. “I have to hand it to
him,” he starts, “Whenever I brought your friend to your room, things
would always wound up interesting. I wonder what sort of fun we can
have now, I feel giddy just thinking about it.”

Listening with every nerve in him standing alert, Beakhyun realizes that
there’s something different about this Chanyeol. He just can’t quite
fathom it yet.

“Agh...” Hongbin finally lifts his head, the scene coming into focus for
him. The minute he sees his best friend strapped and gagged, he starts
to pull against his own bindings, the inability to voice out his anger
through his own muffled mouth makes him furious.

“Since you’re up, let’s start the show.” There’s a happy glee in
Chanyeol’s voice, and Beakhyun on the floor is getting more and more
anxious about that subtle and unknown change in Chanyeol. “It’s been
a while, so forgive me if I seem undecided,” he said, “but rest assured, I
will consider your enjoyment as well. After all, we’ve become so close
now, I say we’re friends.”

Hongbin twists his head just in time to catch sight of Chanyeol’s evil
sneer, his struggles, and the force behind his squirming is renewed at
the sudden hit of flashbacks of what this man has done and what he is
capable of.

He screams, despite knowing that the piece of cloth on his mouth will
mask it all. He rages and raves, anything to escape the repeat of the
hell he went through five years ago.
Chanyeol clicks his lips a few times, his fingers on Hongbin’s hair
clenching, immediately bringing the man to a cautious still. “No need to
be too excited,” he burrs, now bowing to whisper into his ear, “We have
the whole night.”

The dark voice benumbs Hongbin’s body like a cube of ice.

“I’ve been thinking of ways to pass the time,” Chanyeol brings his legs
one over the other again, his chin resting on his knuckles. “It’s been a
long time since I did this, and I can’t really believe it. I remember
sending Beakhyun away at the day of the fire, but after that it’s all
blank. Actually no, I kind of know the continuation to that story, and I’m
not surprised to learn that Beakhyun and I have gone dormant for an
entire year just to play boyfriends.”

Beakhyun catches his friend’s glare aimed at him, and, unable to

handle the judgment in it, he lowers his gaze.

“But, Beakhyun” said man looks up sharply, “Did you honestly think that
it’d work? You were basically living with a loaded gun held to your head,
it was just a matter of time before it went off,” Chanyeol added on a
smirk “and I guess there’s no better timing than today.”

Chanyeol is in a merry mood, that’s what’s off about him.

Usually, during his captivity, whenever the psycho was in a merry mood
Beakhyun would end up in a bad condition, whether his body would get
bruised or his ass would get torn, it never was a happy day for
Beakhyun. Now, he doesn’t know if it’s correct of him to apply the same
conjecture on this Chanyeol, but dealing with a psycho serial killer is a
roll of dice, really. You can never rely on theory and conclusion.

“So, listen you guys” the other two are, even if they don’t want to. “I
know this might seem like a tough start, but how about ‘Do it or your
friend dies’?”

Chanyeol’s a witness to the horrified look being exchanged between the

two best friends, and, in response, he gives a hairy eye-roll. “I wouldn’t
end it so fast. You of all people should know that.” Exactly, that’s why
the two friends are terrified. “Besides, if it does come –death, I mean,
you two should already be prepared for it, right? I mean after everything
you’d been through, I doubt you were destined to survive.”

There’s a soft buzzing sound, and as they try to pinpoint its source, it’s
Hongbin first who looks down at his cargo shorts, before snapping his
eyes at Beakhyun, silently informing him of their predicament that is
getting shoddier and harder to evade, then Chanyeol, with the
gracefulness of a smooth tiger, leans down to tap Hongbin’s pockets for
the piece of contraption, all the while ignoring how Hongbin is roaring at
him to stay away. All in vain, because Chanyeol manages to find the
phone, and as he yanks it out, his amused eyes remain on Hongbin’s
livid ones.

“No unilateral actions, we decided a while ago” –he faces Beakhyun

with that same animated amusement in his eyes– “didn’t we,
Beakhyun?” saying so, he clicks on the home button, showing the
received text from this person named 'my love' on the screen. “Have you
left yet?” He reads, and looks up at the other two, “Oh, so he was
supposed to leave today? Wow, man, talk about bad luck.” He surmises
“You know, I’d actually wanted to delay a little, but then I started
missing Beakhyun a lot and I couldn’t just wait anymore.” He said, and
added “Alright, your love here wants to know if you’re on your way
home, what do you think we should tell her?”
Hongbin’s answer is another hysterical thrashing of his upper body and
a garbled scream, and Beakhyun watches from his place, helpless and
guilt-ridden. He knows his friend is thinking of his girlfriend’s safety
while comparing his helplessness to five years ago when he couldn’t
save Sojin, that doesn’t mitigate the situation.

Chanyeol’s playfulness morphs into a scowl when he realizes that the

phone is protected by a pattern. He thrusts the phone to Hongbin’s
nose. “What’s the pattern?”

He’d rather die than show it to Chanyeol, but the man probably already
knows that.

“You refuse to show me?” Chanyeol looks rather taken aback, “Fine, I
guess I have to be a little more persuasive, don’t I?”

As he lifts up towards the kitchen, the two friends communicate with

their brows and eyes, Hongbin wondering what Chanyeol is about to do,
and Beakhyun shaking his head and making a gesture of having no
idea. They hear clattering of utensils, drawers opening and slamming
shut, and then Chanyeol is returning to the armchair, with the phone in
a hand, and two knives in the other. He lays them on the table, one
looks like a normal kitchen knife, but the other looks like a fillet knife.
Beakhyun doesn’t even remember purchasing that thing.

“Here’s the deal,” Chanyeol starts, “the curved one is for Beakhyun,
because, well, he’s special, so I can’t do too much of a damage to him”
a cold shudder courses through Beakhyun’s body at that, as it does to
Hongbin’s. “But I don’t care about you.” He told Hongbin, “If you don’t
draw the pattern, I’ll pick one of these, whoever it belongs to will get
stabbed, understood?”
Despite the threat, Hongbin’s glare remains relentless; Chanyeol is
bluffing, he has to be. He won’t just start stabbing them, it wouldn’t
make sense. Consequently, when Chanyeol pushes the phone to his
nose again, all Hongbin does is look sideways.

Hollering with a bubbly laughter, Chanyeol demands “That’s your final

answer?” The other man only glowers up at him. “Alright then,” saying
so, he picks a knife from the table without looking, and since they have
the same handle type, he wouldn’t know which one he picked. He
frowns at the fillet knife in his hand after he looked, and suddenly
shrugs “Oh well,” he plants the sharp end of the knife into Beakhyun’s
side, making him shriek at the resultant pain, before wrenching the tool
out.

Hongbin is making an odd noise that is between a cry and a sob, his
eyes growing impossibly wide.

“What?” Chanyeol crinkles his nose at the man’s reaction, “you’re the
one who refused to draw the pattern.” Looking at Beakhyun now, he
rolls his eyes, “stop whining, I didn’t even hit you that deep.”

The stinging burn in Beakhyun’s side is slowly ebbing, but the more
breathless he gets, the painful it becomes. Amidst the commotion, he
notices how Chanyeol’s fallen completely silent, and when he looks up
to see why, he finds the man looking deeply at his face which is twisted
in pain.

Alright, okay…
Chanyeol is being as easily distracted by Beakhyun’s pained moans as
he used to be all those years ago. Beakhyun can take advantage of that
and make use of it somehow, right? At least until one of them undoes
the bindings.

The man leaves the phone and Hongbin behind, he’d deal with them
later, and he goes to Beakhyun, crouches beside his withering body.
“Beakhyun,” he whispers the name as though it is something so exotic.
“Can’t believe it, you still have it in you.”

Yes, theory proven.

With his eyes fluttering, Beakhyun arches a little to the back so he has a
good view of this dark version of the man he loves. Chanyeol’s eyes flit
to the other’s injury, pondering the blood that’s seeping out, glittery,
dark and fragrant. Bringing his hand to the injury, he ghosts his fingers
over the blood, before sinking them into the hole and making Beakhyun
howl in pain.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol’s expression turns grim, “That’s it, Beak, just like that”
–he twists his fingers and pushes them deeper, making Beakhyun mewl
and sob interchangeably with his eyes on Chanyeol’s– “Keep it up and I
might just come in my pants.”

Beakhyun would love to do that just to keep Chanyeol from going back
to Hongbin and fucking with him, but he spent months in those
dungeons doing the exact opposite of everything Chanyeol ordered him
to do, and he suddenly feels the same stubborn streak pushing to the
forefront, making Beakhyun aware of his own self-worth, and his own
pride as a man. Instead of sticking to the plan to distract Chanyeol, he
feels himself stifling his keens and cries, just so he wouldn’t give
Chanyeol the satisfaction of seeing him sympathize with the pain.
The grimness is overcome by sheer contentment when Chanyeol sees
his boyfriend struggling to suppress him cries. “God damn, Beakhyun”
he exclaims, “I’d look everywhere, but I’m certain there’s nobody like
you.”

Beakhyun looks angrily at him; remove your fingers from that hole you
caused by a damn fillet knife and then you can flirt.

As though spying on his inner monologue, Chanyeol gently takes his

fingers out, eyes taking in the crimson coating those two digits. “Forgive
me if I get ahead of myself, Beak.” Saying so, he starts lifting up the
injured man’s shirt from the hem, revealing the small wound and the
skin smeared in blood. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again, you’re really
hard to resist.”

This may be getting a little out of hand; first of all, Hongbin is watching
the whole thing and Beakhyun would rather not show his rear to anyone
but his sane Chanyeol, and two, there are more pressing matters to
focus on rather than Beakhyun’s little moans, like how they need to
awake Chanyeol from this hypnotic spell.

Chanyeol, to prove a point maybe, he spreads his hands on Beakhyun’s

sun-kissed chest, caressing the skin and smearing it in more blood. The
hazel-eyed man squirms to avoid being touched, but Chanyeol doesn’t
even recognize his efforts as he ducks to Beakhyun’s stretched neck
and mouths at it.

As Beakhyun’s sensors register the way Chanyeol is touching him,

worshipping every dip and jut on his torso, he hears his friend, Hongbin,
making a ruckus behind, stomping his tied feet, screaming and pushing
against the armchair whose weight is keeping him from going any far.
His sensors then register the way Chanyeol looks up and then back at
the source of the interruption.

“Oh,” he said. “I forgot you were here here.”

Lifting up, Chanyeol returns to sit on the coffee table, leaving Beakhyun
to breathe a little easier and rejoice at the travesty that has been
avoided. Chanyeol looks at Hongbin pointedly before asking “So, are
you going to show me the pattern?”

As Hongbin remains undecided, his eyes doing all the thinking,

Chanyeol decides that’s about as good a time to fuck with the man’s
mind as any.

Humming, Chanyeol places his hand by his thigh, splays and stretches it
in a way that makes his fingers look like five creepy-crawly legs, and
then he moves them as if it were a spider. “It’s one creepy spider, only
one spider” he starts to chant, his voice down an octave or two and his
voice in monotone; if it isn’t the scariest thing the two friends have ever
heard, they don’t know what is.

Hongbin’s eyes look at Beakhyun’s, filled with confusion and fear, and
while Beakhyun shakes his head for him not to reveal anything because
he can handle Chanyeol and the blows of his madness, Hongbin’s
resignation shows because he knows he can’t.

“See how it crawls, with five dangly legs” –his fingers crawl to the two
knives– “crawls, crawls, crawls” this time, Chanyeol starts counting
down from five, completely ignoring the beads of sweat pouring down
Hongbin’s face. “Three, two” –he acknowledges Hongbin’s tears that
spill down his cheeks next but Chanyeol is enjoying this too much to
stop– “One.” Saying so, he picks the kitchen knife and as he aims to
stab Hongbin in the sternum, the man’s muffled yet despaired scream
stops him halfway. “You’re going to show me the pattern?”

Hongbin, after catching Beakhyun’s glare and his still insistent shake of
head, nods falteringly.

“Excellent,” Chanyeol commented, now grabbing the phone and placing

it in front of Hongbin’s nose again. Chanyeol discerns the pattern after a
couple of trials and errors. It is a V. While Hongbin looks crestfallen and
beaten, his spirit leaving his body empty like a shell at having
disappointed his girlfriend, Chanyeol keeps on scrolling down the
phone, before he suddenly tsks.

"You selfish prick" he starts, and the other two think he's commenting
on whatever he’s seeing on the phone which should be none of
anyone’s business, by the way. But Chanyeol makes everyone’s
business his business. "You only drew the pattern after realizing you
were going to get stabbed.” He said, voice stoic. “Would it have been
different if I picked a different knife?"

Realizing the insinuation, Beakhyun meets Hongbin's shake of head,

begging him to not listen to what the crazy man is saying.

"I can’t believe you, Beakhyun!" Chanyeol marvels, looking at said man.
"Is this really the type of guy you call friend, and not only that, but
sacrifice your freedom for months so he'd roam God's earth free?"

Hongbin starts thrashing and rocking back and forth again as though
that would somehow debunk the allegation. "You know, Hongbin"
Chanyeol drawls, his thumb still on the phone, "There are two things you
need yet to learn about me, first) I have a really good memory, despite
how I look when I’m locked up” –Beakhyun knows he’s referring to
when Chanyeol isn’t under any hypnosis, because usually his Chanyeol
doesn’t remember what he’d done under the effect– “And two) I don't
forgive whoever wrongs me. If you besmirch Beakhyun, you're wronging
me as well. Sorry to break it to you, pal, but I don't think I can give you
the free pass". Saying so, Chanyeol flings the phone somewhere on the
armchair, lifts up to crouch in front of Hongbin, while this time ignoring
Beakhyun’s disembodied screams and shouts. “Yes, you were angry,
and I should forgive you, but, Hongbin, don’t you know that anger
reveals the truth?”

Hongbin starts shaking his head again, silently begging him to stop and
think before doing whatever he’s planning to do.

“You think I can forgive you for calling him a sick whore?” Chanyeol
almost looks… hurt.

Hongbin feels a numbing wave washing over him at the hurt he sees
within this psycho’s eyes, and he stills completely because he does not
know how their hurt is expressed.

“Now,” Chanyeol flicks his wrist, “choose, fingers or toes?” at Hongbin’s

paling face, Chanyeol lets out a small sigh, “Look, I'm trying to be
generous here, stop having that stupid look of horror on your mug all
the time. Now, be a man, and make a pick.”

They both pay no mind to Beakhyun who’s raving behind them to stop
this insanity. Hongbin starts theorizing that if Chanyeol breaks his
fingers, he won’t be able to punch Chanyeol and kill him, but if he
breaks his toes he won’t be able to run.
Chanyeol lets out another, impatient sigh, "let me make it easy for you,
I'm only breaking two."

Hongbin immediately looks down at his toes, choosing them because

he still wants to kill this sick son of a bitch with his fingers intact. He’s
taking on this insanity with all his mentalities functioning, and he’ll do it
until the perfect moment for a counterattack.

After an intense, heart-wrenching pause, Chanyeol shrugs and breaks

Hongbin’s bigger toe like it's a thing he does as his high time leisure,
and keeps nodding as Hongbin screams. He breaks the second and the
same reactions follow, Hongbin screaming and Chanyeol nodding along
as if he’s telling the man to get over it already. He whips his head
around, looking at Beakhyun who's glaring at him, and then smiles
cheerfully. "Oh, I almost forgot,” he looks back at Hongbin again, “You
also called him insane." And with that, he twists his arm behind
Hongbin’s middle, gets hold of the man’s index despite the fact Hongbin
was clenching it, and then he breaks it.

Beakhyun will never forget his best friend’s anguished scream, ever.

Chanyeol is beholding all of the changes and their nuances, is taking in

all of Hongbin’s pain and sobs, the tear smudges on his cheeks, before
slowly levering up with heavy-lidded eyes that look dead to the world.
After a while, he looks at Beakhyun, brushes a hand through his hair,
and says “disgusting.”

“It’s filthy, and disgusting.” Chanyeol said. He’s in the kitchen, washing
his hands at the sink. His voice is louder than the splashing of water
gushing from the tap to wash whatever Chanyeol thinks is dirtying his
hands, which Beakhyun thinks isn’t possible because you can’t wash
away the abuse and the pain you inflict on others. “Everything I touch
that isn’t Beakhyun is nothing but disgusting.”
Upon hearing that, Beakhyun frowns, face contorting in sorry for his
friend, who’s tilted his head to the back and is now whining at the pain
radiating from his broken toes and finger.

Chanyeol treads back to the area of the living-room, glares at Hongbin

and says in a cold growl “Your voice is disgusting. If you don’t quiet
down, I’ll break your neck next.”

Hongbin looks down, his whines morphing into deep grunts as he tries
to breathe through the pain, but the muffle on his mouth hindering all
his efforts.

Chanyeol treads towards the bathroom with the same glare still
plastered on, as though annoyed that Hongbin held him back a few
seconds. Beakhyun tries his best to prop up, his injury complaining and
zapping his side until the discomfort causes him to change his mind. He
lies back for a beat, and then tries again because he needs to check on
his friend first. He finds Hongbin still grunting, but the survival instinct in
him pushing him to stomp his healthy foot against the floor in hopes to
warrant the neighbors. Beakhyun’s eyes are weary yet wide as they
watch for Chanyeol’s return so he’d warn his friend. Hongbin continues
to stomp his foot with all he has, his eyes on Beakhyun’s for any
changes. Then it happens, the change being subtle as the look on
Beakhyun’s face goes from wide to glowering very quickly, and he stops.

Chanyeol returns to where they are with a box of a first aid box. He
drags the coffee table to the side so he has more space to work, but the
two friends pray the additional noise will prompt the neighbors more if
they thought to wait out until the neighbors upstairs stopped stomping
their feet. He kneels beside Beakhyun as the latter lies prone on the
floor. He helps turn him on his back properly, and Beakhyun lets it
happen.
For the first time in a long time, Beakhyun has no idea what the near
future holds; what would happen in an hour from now? Is Chanyeol
going to kill Hongbin, or kill them both? Is there any chance to salvage
Chanyeol’s sanity and lock it again with that forbidden word, or is he too
far gone?

There’s a deep crease on Chanyeol’s forehead as he lifts the hem of

Beakhyun’s shirt to reveal the injury, and he stares at it with a scowl.
Not long ago, Beakhyun admired that scowling face, but now he is
scared what might follow. Chanyeol spreads his big hand on Beakhyun’s
belly, making the man coil from the cold skin touching his.

“I’m going to fix you, Bea.” He said, “I always fix you, don’t I? I’ll fix you
no matter how many times you break.”

Beakhyun’s stomach turns a few loops at that.

This isn’t his Chanyeol, he needs to remind himself. But, at the same
time, this worshipping look and these treasuring words… only his
Chanyeol could ever deliver them.

Chanyeol dips a piece of cotton in a sterilizer and gently taps it on the

wound. And Beakhyun reacts, letting out a few moans and hisses; his
mind quickly dredging up the horrifying reminder of what Chanyeol
thought of Hongbin’s whines, and bites on his lip to keep from letting
out any noise instead, which is more sickening since his reason to never
moan out loud used to be because he never wanted to give in to
Chanyeol’s schemes. Now, he is going out of his way to be on
Chanyeol’s good side.
The look of worship contorts, and Chanyeol is beholding Beakhyun with
a look of hurt instead. He stoops down until his forehead is against
Beakhyun’s.

“Let me hear your voice, love…”

Said man’s confusion translates through his baffled expression. He

flings his eyes to Hongbin to clear out his point. Chanyeol picks up on it.

“Come on, you’re not like him. You’re unlike anyone else, love.”

It’s like a moment of epiphany and Beakhyun realizes that maybe, just
maybe, he’s not at all in danger, or better yet, he’s in a different type of
danger if Chanyeol is getting an erection. His expression shows worry
and fear, raw and evident. Chanyeol’s, however, turns ecstatic.

“I guess this is no different than it used to be.” He says through a

zealous whisper, “A little change of settings, maybe. But you’re still you,
and I’m still me.” There’s a hint insinuated in there, but Beakhyun is too
horrified to try to decode it. More so, it’s because there’s something
meaningful in it which Beakhyun does not wish to trust.

Chanyeol’s fingers brush against Beakhyun’s crotch in a deliberately

slow manner that the shamelessness of the action alone makes
Beakhyun’s breath struggle to settle on an even rhythm. The panic
spikes up more when Beakhyun refuses to make Hongbin watch this
again; it’s already traumatized him once, it can’t happen again.

Desperate, Beakhyun starts yelling, his muffled voice starting to sound

clearer and clearer that he’s calling out to Chanyeol, his Chanyeol, to
surge to the surface and bring a stop to this madness. But Chanyeol
looks hungrier and hungrier instead.

Beakhyun’s yelling stops… there’s no escape from this he now knows.

He props his head off the floor to tell his friend to look away, and
Hongbin does.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Beakhyun” Chanyeol starts, “I don’t think I

can be gentle.” He licks his lips and tacks on “but then again, I never
was.”

Then all hell breaks loose.

Pants are being ripped, the button flying and hitting the table at the
side. Then they’re pulled down, along with the boxers and all Beakhyun
is left to do is pray this would end quickly. Since his ankles are tied, the
clothes remain stuck on his legs. Chanyeol, as experience has taught
them, doesn’t care about restrictions. He fists Beakhyun’s flaccid cock
and starts jerking it off, his other hand meandering towards Beakhyun’s
puckered entrance.

The moment he feels fingers going inside him, Beakhyun mewls,

throwing his head to the back and exposing his neck, mewling through
the muffle.

Hongbin can’t go through this again; Beakhyun doesn’t know why he’s
allowing it to happen after his friend managed to start anew and get a
nice job and a wonderful girlfriend. Why is Beakhyun always bringing
doom to his loved ones’ lives? Why is he always the titular hero of
whatever goes shitty?

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until snot clogs his nose. He opens his
eyes, which he didn’t he closed, and tears spill down into his hair.

“Look at you, Beakhyun, look at how wet you are.” Chanyeol presses the
head of Beakhyun’s now-hard cock, squeezing out the precum to get
the point across. “You like being watched by your best buddy, don’t you,
love? You’ve always liked being watched. It used to turn you on so
much.” Saying so, he uses the same precum to coat his own cock with
to make it slick. “Do you want to come first?”

I want you to get away from me!

Beakhyun’s hard look is ignored. Chanyeol is being uncharacteristically

sweet but that could very much be because they’re lovers, so a part of
him doesn’t really want to cause Beakhyun any harm; well, more than
he has anyway.

“I can help you come, but I want us to come together.”

Beakhyun doesn’t need Hongbin hearing this, so he pushes up his hips,

a silent order to tell Chanyeol to hurry it up already so they can be over.

Chanyeol lifts Beakhyun’s legs, and forces them on his side again. He
gives his own cock a few strokes before skidding to the inviting hole and
pushing the head in, making Beakhyun let out another muffled cry.
“That’s it, love, you know the drill.”

Beakhyun feels his unprepared hole stretching around the shaft of

Chanyeol’s cock. It burns. It burns so much, and Beakhyun cries. The
burning sensation doesn’t ebb when Chanyeol thrusts the rest of the
way in one forceful shove. The sensation of his skin tearing is painful
beyond imagination, but at the same time it’s… invigorating; Beakhyun
laughs through gritted teeth at his own stupidity.

What’s he thinking! It’s not like he doesn’t get enough dick. His
Chanyeol is a man with an active libido, and their sexual escapades
usually exceed three times a day. So what is he thinking at a time like
this?

This is the same as betraying his Chanyeol, he knows, he knows it in his

bones, but the burning in his ass is taking him back to stale,
windowless rooms, sputtered with blood and meat hooks. It’s taking
him back to the touch of cold enamel under his skin and the state of
vigilance he forced himself to every second of the day, for four fucking
months.

This burning sensation is making Beakhyun feel alive…

But Hongbin’s broken sob brings him to here and now, to what’s
happening outside and five years away from that room. Beakhyun
opens his eyes again and realizes that he’s been moaning in pleasure
instead of forcing in his noises. He’s been squeezing down on
Chanyeol’s cock to let him know he likes it instead of pushing him and
glaring at him that he hates it.
And worse of all, Chanyeol’s had Beakhyun’s cock pulled between his
pressed thighs, and has been milking it until Beakhyun went and came.

Chanyeol is still pounding away, his balls slapping Beakhyun’s ass

cheeks and making the flesh rebound.

“I’m going to come inside you, love” he announces suddenly, “I need

you to take it, alright? Take all of it.” His hips jerk and grind, spilling hot
cum inside Beakhyun. He delights at the small whines coming from
Beakhyun at having his insides drown in hot semen.

A knock on the door interrupts their afterglow, and Beakhyun, still in

bliss yet very confused, looks up at Chanyeol through slanted eyes, the
man, who’s irritated that the post-climax ecstasy got interrupted, snaps
a heated glare at the direction of the front door and says “I’m going to
kill whoever it is.”

“I’m going to kill whoever it is.”

He’s not discreet about it, he never was. If Chanyeol wanted to kill
someone, he did it without debating it with his assembly of deranged
minions. His jaw is working, and his hands are fisted, those slight
preparations bringing him so near to unleashing the real monster on
whoever is out there; it could very much be the pizza guy but Beakhyun
is certain nobody ordered anything. Chanyeol finds the broken coffee
mugs that Beakhyun was carrying a little while ago on the floor, still
enwrapped, and he nudges them gently to the side while removing the
cloth to wipe the traces of Beakhyun’s and Hongbin’s blood from the
wall.
While Chanyeol is occupied in the hallway, Beakhyun and Hongbin,
without needing a ‘go’ cue, resume stomping on the floor to warrant the
neighbors, and thrashing their bodies to free themselves from their
bindings.

“Hi.”

Beakhyun’s frantic motions come to a halt, as do Hongbin’s who

burrows his brows at his best friend for an explanation. Come to think of
it, humans created this complex method of communication when, long
before even the earliest writings, people used gestures. Beakhyun juts
his chin to the direction of the hallway that leads to the front door; there
is no mistaking it, the man at the door is his neighbor who lives in the
flat below.

Great timing!

“Hi there,” Chanyeol greets back. Beakhyun can see without actually
seeing how Chanyeol is putting his charms on display with that fake
cheerful smile and that silver voice. “How can I help you?”

“Yeah, about that,” the neighbor said. “You see, my girlfriend is coming
over in a bit, and I couldn’t help but notice the ruckus, so I was just
wondering if you’d tone it down a little bit.” He’s actually being too
polite, considering the racket Beakhyun and Hongbin are making.

“Oh,” Chanyeol sounds apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Sure, man, I mean I don’t want to impose or anything–”

“You aren’t.” Chanyeol assures, and then says “Actually, I brought a new
sofa for my boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” The neighbor goes for that friendly tone, all high pitched and
annoying, “that’s pretty sweet, man.”

“I know,” Chanyeol said. “Well, I’m moving some stuff around; trying to
find a place for that thing is really tiring me out. I hope it’s not much to
ask but maybe if you lend me a little hand I can get this over with
quickly.” The neighbor says nothing, so Chanyeol pushes. “That way my
boyfriend will be happy and you and your girlfriend will have an easy
night, win-win.”

“Sure,” the neighbor acquiesces. “I guess you make a pretty good

point.”

“Wonderful!” Chanyeol gushes.

That man caught the hook like a dumb blue tang, so Beakhyun prompts
Hongbin to make more noise so that it would prompt the neighbor in
return. Hongbin gets more and more anxious when he hears the two
approaching, the neighbor talking about how keeping partners happy
brings one so much joy, while completely oblivious to the danger
stalking behind him.

“Oh, it’s joy-inducing, I must say,” Chanyeol hums, his voice lacking that
jovial nuance it had a moment ago.

The neighbor is about to comment on that with another moronic follow-

up line like ‘it is’ when he suddenly freezes at the scene before him.
Most often, it takes three to four seconds for any human being to
actually try to understand what’s going on if faced with an unfamiliar
situation, five if the person is naturally slow, but three seconds is all
Chanyeol needs.

“What the hell is going on here?” The man growled.

Chanyeol grabs the nearest heavy object: a vase that was decorating
the shoe closet, and smashes it on top of the neighbor’s head. The man
falls like a brick wall coming down, groaning, and disoriented. The two
captives inside rave on for Chanyeol to let the man go, but Chanyeol
isn’t that type of predator to let his prey get away. He flips his victim so
that it’s lying on its back, and then a hail of punches comes down on it,
until all of its signs of resistance recede to slight shudders and
involuntary spasms.

A moment of dreadful silence suddenly takes over, cut off by

intermittent panting from Chanyeol who’s now corrected his posture,
standing, head tilted back. He checks his blood-sputtered knuckles and
tsks again.

“That wasn’t even worth the effort, damn pig.” He shakes his hands to
get rid of the blood, continuing with a mumble, “Well, let’s hope you
aren’t just another number.”

Beakhyun calls out Chanyeol again, voice, although muffled, but clearly
heavy with fraught, as he watches how his man drags the body by the
legs towards them.

“Relax,” Chanyeol said. “He’s not dead.”

It’s not a good reason, but it is a good enough reason for Beakhyun to
relax a little.

Chanyeol makes his way to the kitchen, probably to wash his hands,
giving the other two a moment of hope, a hope to rouse the neighbor
from his sweet oblivion. Beakhyun isn’t happy about it, but he knows,
from experience, you can’t run away from something like this. Hongbin’s
efforts in trying to wake the man up are just as frantic, his healthy foot
almost touching the man’s as he strains the injured one. Chanyeol,
however, is more prone to dooming everyone in his vicinity with just his
arrival.

He’s pulling a chair, and Beakhyun lets out a small sob at the images
that have just flashed of him and Chanyeol sitting at the dinner table in
the kitchen; that’s one of the chairs…

“I really wouldn’t mind the aid of one of Hannah’s men right now,”
Chanyeol lifts the unconscious man and poises him on the chair, all
while grunting from the exertion. “She was one crazy whore, but I must
admit, she knew how to pick them.”

Beakhyun’s side starts stinging him again, but it isn’t insistent enough
to distract him from the way Chanyeol has suddenly stopped moving
right after laying the man on that piece of furniture. The blond is
standing still, eyes unblinking, like someone doing a double mental
check on his actions or something they’ve said, and Beakhyun has to
blink his a few times to make sure something crazy didn’t just happen,
like the idea of time stopping. He checks with Hongbin, the man is just
as addled.

Chanyeol’s eyes flutter once, twice then several times, as though trying
to clear his vision, before shaking his head and squaring his shoulders.
His eyes fall on Beakhyun’s, and he smiles in a way so unfamiliar and
so unlike him. “I’m starting to lose my touch,” he said. “I should end this
quickly.”

What is he going to end?

What was that just now, did Chanyeol check out?

Beakhyun shakes his head; if Chanyeol would just remove the piece of
cloth in his mouth! Hongbin copies him, head shaking vigorously, but
they both know Chanyeol doesn’t care about his opinion.

With a hand raking through his hair, Chanyeol uses his other to slap the
neighbor across the face.

“I don’t have time to wait for you!” He hollers.

With a wet groan, the neighbor starts regaining his consciousness. He’s
all bloody, abrasions covering his face and more blood spilling down his
temples. One of his eyes is heavily bruised. He isn’t tied, though, like
Chanyeol just knows this man won’t even attempt to run. Chanyeol is
absolutely arrogant, in fact, we all are, but Chanyeol is different. He has
always been.

“Alright,” he said. He goes back to sitting on the edge of the armchair

just so he can have a clear view of all the three of his captives. “You’re
new, so I probably need to introduce you to these two, as well as tell you
what the rules are.”
Beakhyun lowers his head, defeated; Chanyeol thinks he’s talking to the
newcomer to the cubicle: “this is the printer, don’t use too much paper
clips”. This is absolutely the worst. Chanyeol is like an actor who’s taken
his role too seriously, only, Beakhyun fears, there’s no coming back this
time.

“I’ll start with him.” Chanyeol beckons to Hongbin, and the sad thing is
the neighbor actually follows his hand, “His name is Hongbin. He’s like a
leech. He always uses any means he can to survive, even if his friends
don’t. He’s not really my favorite,” he said. “And that” –motions to
Beakhyun who’s still reclining on the floor with blood over his side and
pants ripped and showing some skin which make Beakhyun face away
when the neighbor eyes him– “is Beakhyun. He’s –” Chanyeol is
obviously struggling with the words, but after a beat, he says “He’s
mine.”

The neighbor looks from Beakhyun and at Chanyeol. “Please” perhaps

he’s scared he might end up like that. “Please, let me go. I won’t tell
anyone, I promise.”

Chanyeol leans forward, elbows on knees, and he looks the man right in
the eyes and says “If you talk without my permission again, I’ll slice your
throat.”

The man purses his lips and nods fervently, but all of them can see how
the lips are trembling as the man meeps and cries. When his eyes land
on Beakhyun’s, the brunet knows enough about Chanyeol to shake his
head at him as a warning.

“Alright,” Chanyeol starts, “Since I didn’t have enough time to prepare,

how about a simple true or false game?” He doesn’t wait for any of
them to answer as he lifts up again, making the three go visibly tense,
and makes his way to the kitchen knife. “Here’s how it works,” he said,
now returning to the armchair and sitting on it with a small sigh. “There
are three rounds, but only one winner,” he said, now gesturing to
himself with the knife’s sharp edge, “I’ll be the referee, because we
can’t all be playing. And because I know all the answers. If I play it,
wouldn’t be fair, now, would it?” He blows a heavier sigh. “Beakhyun,
you’re the audience. We can’t host a game without audience, that’s
boring.” Ignoring Beakhyun’s glare, Chanyeol switches to look at his
other two captives, “So you two will be playing. It’s alright, I’ll start
simple. Here’s your first question, the capital of Brazil is Rio de Janeiro,
just nod for true or shake head for false.”

Hongbin nods immediately. Chanyeol is brandishing the knife next to his

head, there’s no way he can fail this; perhaps Chanyeol was right to
describe him as a leech, but it’s natural and instinctual to want to
survive, so what’s the fucker being so righteous about!

“Hey, pig” Chanyeol calls out the neighbor, “the clock is ticking, what’s it
gonna be?”

With one eye opened to comical proportions and the other swollen and
opened to mast, the neighbor beholds the knife in Chanyeol’s hand.
Slowly, he shakes his head.

“Is that really your final answer?”

“Well, well. I guess we’re off to a great start.” Chanyeol rights his grip on
the knife’s handle and, without any warning, stabs Hongbin in the
shoulder. As the man howls at the pain and the neighbor cries
miserably in his chair, Beakhyun all but throws his head to the back and
screams through the cloth.
“God, you bunch of pussies!” Chanyeol sneered, now flipping the
weapon in his hand so leisurely, “Hongbin, you moron, you should have
paid more attention in geography class.” He looks at Beakhyun, his risky
maneuvers coming to a stop, “Baek, you’re an amazing audience, your
performance is so believable,” he said. “Now, second question” –
Hongbin and the neighbor quiet their sobs down with the former
breathing through the pain again– “On Beakhyun’s back, there are the
letters that make my name. Your question is, were they cauterized or
tattooed? –nod if your answer is the latter, shake head if not.”

The neighbor checks for Hongbin’s answer and what it’s going to be, but
the man is neither shaking his head nor nodding. If Hongbin doesn’t
know the answer then he can’t copy him. He chances a glance at
Chanyeol, as does Beakhyun, and they see the man resting his
forehead on his hand, massaging it gently as if he’s facing off a
relentless migraine and barely holding it together.

“You can get help from Beakhyun on this one, if you want.” Chanyeol
gestures to his boyfriend.

With eyes so horrified, Beakhyun stares at Chanyeol; here’s the

problem, Chanyeol’s name on his back was neither tattooed nor
cauterized, and Beakhyun doesn’t know how to communicate that to
the poor man. He sees something, though –Chanyeol’s solemn smile,
again, and it keeps him from hating Chanyeol for putting the fate of an
innocent man in his hands.

“Please, Beakhyun” the neighbor beseeches, voice hoarse from crying.

“Which is it?”

The moment Beakhyun closes his eyes against the image of this man’s
ending, plentiful tears fall, and he stills completely, not giving the
answer because that’s an answer itself; apparently, Hongbin has
already figured that out.

It’s like Chanyeol is giving Hongbin this question as a freebee, just to

save him for the final round…

The neighbor, despite the hints, nods his head.

Chanyeol hums, “I don’t know why I expected a different outcome.”

Saying so, he levers up again, and makes his way to the neighbor who
keeps sobbing to ‘please! Please, don’t do this!’ before the knife’s blade
is thrust into his right thigh. Beakhyun looks away and Hongbin closes
his eyes, while the neighbor screamed.

“Quit screaming like a little girl.” Chanyeol admonishes. “Just to ease

your mind, I single-handedly carved my name on Beakhyun’s back using
a scalpel, creative, isn’t it?”

The neighbor’s whimpers continue. The sight of blood oozing out of that
hole on his thigh giving him more reason to panic; however, another
noise arises, it’s small, almost undetectable, but it’s enough to garner
Chanyeol’s attention.

“Baek?”

Hongbin faces said man; this is a kill or get killed situation, but
Beakhyun is his best friend, even though he went ahead and played
boyfriend with that psycho for a year, he still worries about him.
The man is heaving, small moans slipping from his covered mouth. His
head is thrown back that all Hongbin sees from his angle is the
underside of Beakhyun’s chin. Chanyeol forsakes everything and kneels
beside his lover, big, gentle hand on Beakhyun’s cheek.

“Hey, love” he said, his voice very soft. “What’s the matter?”

Also, what Hongbin sees from this angle, is Beakhyun making shooing
gestures with his foot, and, right there and then, Hongbin realizes that
Beakhyun’s putting his life on the line again by acting like he’s about to
seize just to give the other two a moment to act. Hongbin feels his
mouth running dry, and he snaps a glare at the neighbor, who looks
back at him, and Hongbin motions at his own bindings. The neighbor is
terrified, so he shakes his head in a ‘are you crazy? I could get killed!’
and Hongbin replies by furrowing his brows and jutting his chin to
Chanyeol and the knife next to his foot, as if to say ‘we are going to get
killed anyway’.

The neighbor takes a deep breath, eying how Chanyeol is pressing a

hand to Beakhyun’s neck and whispering sweet nothings to calm him.
He leaps stealthily from his chair despite his limp, and starts undoing
whatever is binding Hongbin’s feet together. He manages to, and he
and Hongbin share a triumphant smile before the neighbor starts
working on the bindings on Hongbin’s wrists.

“Beakhyun” Chanyeol starts, his eyes looking at all of said man with a
mixture of adoration and amusement while the man convulses and
whines sweetly, “You’ve always been such a bad liar, but I never
realized just how horrible your acting is.” Saying so, he withdraws and
looks behind, finding the neighbor at Hongbin’s side. “Now this is more
fun!” In two wide, firm strides, he grabs the neighbor and flings him
back on the chair again, now leaning into his ear to say, harshly “you’ll
pay for that.”
He leaves the neighbor to dread his future, and turns to take a look at
Hongbin, head cocking as if to dare him. “You, too.”

Chanyeol makes quick motions with his hands as he fastens Hongbin’s

bindings again, but only his hands’, before facing Beakhyun again. “I
should have known you would come up with something like this.” He
stands tall, looking down at his man with dark eyes. “Next time you try
this kind of stunt, make your fingers look cramped.”

Beakhyun taps his forehead against the floor at his failed attempt; it’s
been so long since he last seized, how can he remember such detail?

“Now,” Chanyeol returns to sit on the armchair. “I’ll pretend that didn’t
happen. Let’s move on with our game, shall we?”

Hongbin and the neighbor lower their heads; they both don’t want to
continue but know they must.

“Your last question is,” Chanyeol starts, “At exactly 8 o’clock, I’m going
to kill all three of you, true or false?”

This time, the labored breathing is real from Beakhyun’s side. Chanyeol
can’t kill him; he admitted to that himself! Perhaps, he’s angry with
Beakhyun for his little stunt just now, and he wants nothing to do with
him again. Beakhyun groans, he’s just as vile if he’s getting upset over
that thought. Chanyeol has given a dare, so to speak, and he is either
going to kill all of them, or not. But that’s not like Psycho Chanyeol; at
least someone has to die.
Beakhyun props his head off the floor to check with his friend again,
and Hongbin looks crestfallen, like the fear of a wrong answer is not
what’s getting to him, it’s rather the knowledge that this is going to end
up with a murder.

“Time’s up,” Chanyeol said. “What is your answer?”

Beakhyun doesn’t know what it is, perhaps accepting the reality and
coming in terms with it, but the neighbor, however faintly, nods.

On the other hand, Hongbin shakes his head.

Chanyeol’s mouth opens to the slightest of smiles, a few of his teeth

showing, and he scratches at his stubble like he’s really, truthfully
entertained.

“Interesting” he starts, “Of course, you can’t change those answers

now. I’d have had a different opinion if you didn’t go ahead and try to be
sneaky behind my back, but, still, interesting indeed.” He looks at the
neighbor and says “Why do you think I’m going to kill all three of you?”

The neighbor has shrunken in on himself, looking so small despite his

heavy build. He shrugs, in a matter that says everything is over.

“Well, you were wrong.” Chanyeol beams at the neighbor’s little sob. He
picks the knife again and, advances, hands clutching the handle tighter.

“Please!” The neighbor is wailing so much he can’t help his shoulders

from shaking. “I’m begging you, man. I’m all mother has, please!”
“Shut up,” Chanyeol said, forebodingly.

Beakhyun shakes his whole body after realizing that Chanyeol’s intent
isn’t to just toy with the man, but to kill him. He rages while screaming
at the top of his lungs, yelling Chanyeol’s name so desperately.
Chanyeol whips his face to silence Beakhyun with another of his glares,
but Beakhyun doesn’t stop, and Chanyeol, for a mere second, looks like
he’s having second thoughts so Beakhyun clings to that with all he has.
Chanyeol can’t kill that man; he shouldn’t, not in this place at least.

Upon witnessing Beakhyun’s brazen resolve, Hongbin concludes that

he’s chickened out enough as it is; it’s time to make survival about
someone else rather than himself. He copies his friend, noticing, quite
in no time, that by rocking back and forth, the bindings are slowly
coming off.

How ironic!

He is only close to freedom when he’s finally thought to save someone

other than himself.

Chanyeol looks around at all of them, bewildered and shocked, before

placing his free hand on his ear. “Shut up, shut up!” Hollering so, he
heads towards the mirror just across, and paces a little next to it.

“Please, man!” The neighbor pleads with blood and tears smearing his
face. “I won’t tell anybody, I swear!”
“I told you to shut up, didn’t I?” Chanyeol’s voice is quite stoic,
considering the circumstances.

Beakhyun continues to scream, and so does Hongbin, while pulling

against the bindings. The neighbor continues to beg and plead, like a
wretched thing. Chanyeol is only standing there, observing his reflection
on the mirror, then, when nobody least expected it, rams his head
through the mirror with a wrathful shout. He reels, fixes his grip on the
handle again and threads towards the neighbor whose screams just
rose, and he grips his man from the top of his hair.

“I told you if you talked without my permission I’d slit your throat, you
had it coming.” Saying so, Chanyeol places the sharp blade on one side
of the man’s neck, and, very swiftly and deeply, cuts all the way to the
other side.

Numbness spreads though Beakhyun’s body as it stills, and so does

everything else as they hear the man’s windpipe making noises
because of the air and the blood still flowing but spraying outside.
Hongbin is screaming and trying his best to push away from where the
blood just splashed.

Chanyeol lets go of the man’s hair, but instead of falling forward, the
head falls the rest of the way backward. He is panting with his eyes
closed, as though savoring up the moment. When he opens his eyes
again, there’s no bewilderment or shock in his pupils, only amusement.

“Much better,” he said. Looking at Beakhyun now, he comments “He’s

gone.”
Looking at him, Beakhyun doesn’t really know who he’s talking about,
the neighbor, or his Chanyeol…

Chanyeol starts walking back towards Beakhyun, steps so heavy. The

knife falls from his hand, landing on the blood but still makes a
clattering noise. The noise prompts Hongbin, who wakes up from his
breakdown and puts all of his strength into pulling against his bindings;
he’s not going to be next! He manages to free his hands when Chanyeol
is facing him with his back, giving him the perfect chance to remove the
muffle.

“Nebula!”

Chanyeol was about to stain Beakhyun’s body with the blood on his
hand when the shouted word suddenly made him stop. He turns
around, finding Hongbin standing beside the knife he just tossed.
Hongbin is watching, and secretly hoping for any changes, but
Chanyeol’s eyes don’t change, and he finds they’re both staring at the
knife.

Why didn’t the word work!

Since he’s closer, Hongbin gets his hands on the knife first, and
Chanyeol acknowledges the threatening position so he remains
crouched beside Beakhyun.

“If you hurt me, I’ll hurt him.”

Hongbin seethes; however, Chanyeol is being so stupid if he thinks

Hongbin will just believe that threat knowing full well that Chanyeol had
been planning to kill everyone but Beakhyun, and so he smirks. With a
howl of a warrior, Hongbin comes down with the knife, all adamant on
stabbing Chanyeol. Beakhyun is shaking his head and yelling for
Hongbin to not do it. Unfortunately for fun best buddies, Beakhyun isn’t
going to get his wish this time; Chanyeol is a psychopath and he needs
to go. Hongbin, despite his broken toes and his other injuries, rushes to
stab Chanyeol, but the moment he lands wrongly on his broken toes,
the momentum changes, consequently, the trajectory of his attack
changes as well. Chanyeol slides back to keep away from the knife’s
edge, but it still manages to pierce his knee so deep that only the
handle remains sticking out.

Chanyeol winces. He doesn’t scream, and he doesn’t cry out, he winces.

He calmly takes the weapon out. Hongbin kneels there, attentive,
waiting for the attack to be launched, but it never happens as Chanyeol
simply flings the knife all the way to the kitchen.

“Why the hell aren’t you waking up?” Hongbin roars, “Nebula, Sun,
Neptune, Uranus you fucker!”

Chanyeol, with just a slight groan, lifts himself up on his legs, but unlike
anything Hongbin suspected, he simply heads towards the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Hongbin bellows, “Where do you think you’re
going after slaughtering that man like a pig!”

Chanyeol never answers; he keeps on walking with a limp, until Hongbin

and Beakhyun hear the front door open and close.

Five years ago, Hongbin made the mistake of letting Beakhyun take on
that psycho’s madness. Five years ago, he settled for freedom even
though knowing Beakhyun had sacrificed his. That isn’t going to happen
again. Hongbin isn’t going to make the same mistake again; Chanyeol
can’t be unleashed on this world.

Whether he was hypnotized or not, Hongbin doesn’t care. All he knows

is that he witnessed Beakhyun get raped again, a kidnapping, and an
innocent man getting sliced open. To Hongbin, those are enough
reasons to hunt the psycho.

Beakhyun mewls and turns pleading eyes on Hongbin, knowing he can

finally be freed. Hongbin, however, moves like a possessed man and
stands on his legs, too, only to go after Chanyeol, leaving Beakhyun
raging behind him; it’s fine like this, otherwise, Beakhyun will just be in
the way.

He can’t believe it. Beakhyun lies there completely motionless; they just
left him here, with a dead body! –there are footsteps at the front door
which Hongbin left open, and Beakhyun, for a moment, rejoices
because maybe his friend is back for him, but the click-clock of high
heels changes that, especially when a girl walks in, eying the decor like
she’s in Wonderland. She screams after seeing the body of the dead
man with his windpipe showing.

“God!” she cries. “God, Jay Kim!”

Great, it’s his girlfriend.

Even though he sympathizes with her, but nobody has time for this. He
yells for her attention, and she does look at him, still sobbing. The good
thing is she heads Beakhyun’s way and kneels beside him.
“I just arrived at his apartment and found a note saying he’d come here,
who did this to him?” She wails. “Who killed my boyfriend?”

Awkward; Beakhyun can’t just go ahead and blurt out “my boyfriend
killed your boyfriend.” That’s not how it works.

She finally undoes all of the restraints, and he shoots up to full length.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for you loss.” He rushes past her, never
weakened by the pain that’s just flared in his side, and he dashes down
the stairs. Those two couldn’t have gotten far, with their injuries and all.
Beakhyun leaves the building’s gate, and there seems to be no
passersby who can point him to the direction those two went to.
Inspecting a little around shows him Hongbin lying sprawled on the
ground, with his face on the dirt, all battered. Beakhyun scurries to
check on him.

“Hey, Hongbin, you ok?” He asks, and prays his friend wasn’t gutted
beyond the point of no return. He relaxes when Hongbin groans, but
doesn’t wake up. Beakhyun looks around, scanning the area; those two
must have exchanged punches, and, obviously, Chanyeol won.
Beakhyun catches a shape in the dark shadows of the pine trees just
beyond the road. He stands up very slowly, and heads towards the
mystery…

***

Ting, ting, ting

“May I have your attention please?”

Eyes look up from their Champaign and away from the camera of the
hippy photographer, glossy lips smile up and others murmur about the
speech the groom is about to give.

“I’m pleased and happy to be reunited with you all for this occasion,”
Hongbin starts, emotions clogging his throat; he’d been having a great
time, but now that he has to do it, he can’t stop the overwhelming
sensations, especially when his eyes land on Beakhyun’s father. “For
the longest of times, I’ve only ever wanted one man to give this speech,
but since I can’t have that, then I guess I’ll do it myself.” He smiles at
his bride, and, God, she looks absolutely stunning. “I met my beautiful
wife three years ago, and at that time, most of you know how it was for
me. Laura was always there, encouraging me and helping me. That’s
why she’s the most special person in my heart. I love you now, and I’ll
love you forever.”

The guests clap and whistle. His mother cries at the side, and Laura
does that doting smile which conveys her love in return, now taking her
husband in a hug. The fathers clap along and smile. And the
photographer makes sure to take photos from every angle.

It’s been exactly a year since he last saw of Beakhyun. Beakhyun went
into the woods after Chanyeol and nobody has heard of him again after
that.

There are things Hongbin can’t fathom yet; the authorities searched
every nook and left no stone unturned, but Beakhyun and Chanyeol
were never found. He could never understand why Beakhyun went after
that killer. For the longest of times, Hongbin has wondered how
Beakhyun could sleep knowing he was with the man who killed their
friends.
Hongbin’s done his best, with his family and friends’ help, as well as
Laura’s, he’s managed to avoid the press and keep from their clutch,
unlike Jay's girlfriend who used up every opportunity to speak of the
crime scene and of her heroic act of freeing the captive. He doesn’t
know if she’s realized by now that she only made things worse, but he
knows people act differently faced with difficult situations.

“Are you okay?”

Hongbin looks up from his glass, finding Beakhyun’s father coming up

to him. He nods. “Yeah, I’m good,” he said, “Just something on my
mind.”

The older man nods back. “Don’t hurt your head, son, trust me, you only
have today to have your fun.”

Hongbin lets out a breathless chuckle.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, and lowers his head the moment Hongbin
tries to look into his eyes. “He made his choice. Nobody blames you, so
don’t blame yourself.”

In any other day, Hongbin would have laughed it off, but he isn’t
capable of that after losing his only friend, perhaps forever. “I miss
him.” He sobs, now crying into his hand. “God, I miss him so much.” He
is brought into the other’s hug.

“Come now, it’s your wedding day.” He reminds, “Don’t let your wife see
you like this.”
“Excuse me?”

The two men pull away from the hug, and, looking down, they find
Charlotte’s youngest daughter, Wendy, handing them a letter.

“I found this by the camera on the table over there,” she said, pointing
at the one table reserved for the cameraman. “It’s addressed to you.”

Frowning in question, Hongbin takes the letter from her and thanks her.
“If I find he quit his job without letting me know first, I’m suing his ass.”

They both look around for the cameraman but they don’t find him, and
Beakhyun’s father offers to go look for him around, leaving Hongbin
with the letter in a hand and the Champaign in the other.

Placing the glass on the nearest table, Hongbin opens the letter,
scowling at it like it’s the cause of his PTSD.

Dear Hongbin,

It’s been a while. I know, you’re pissed at me for not attending the
wedding, and for not being your best man. If it’s worth anything, I really
am sorry.

Hongbin’s knees buckle, and his rear lands on the chair next to him. He
notices how his hands have suddenly started trembling, but the written
words take all of his attention.
I never had the chance to say goodbye. To be honest, it’s better that
way. Otherwise, I’d have stayed. You have to know that that wasn’t an
option for me. Even if I stayed, I would have gone mad. Do you think I
am? –maybe I am, I can’t help but think that about myself sometimes.

I’m fine. I’m with Chanyeol. He’s also fine. He came back to normal that
night after I caught up to him. I don’t know why the word didn’t work for
you, but it did for me, and, now, Chanyeol and I are living together.

Come to think of it, maybe I shouldn’t tell you any of that. I know how
the press made your life difficult, and I can’t apologize enough. But you
are the only person I trust, so I want to tell you that, after leaving,
Chanyeol and I looked for a way to heal him. He’s been seeing a
hypnotherapist, and I’m so happy to tell you that we’ve managed to
undo the spell.

He no longer reacts to that word. He’s back to his old self, Hongbin, and
we’re happy together. He gets painful migraines sometimes, though. His
knee hurts when it drops cold, and his limp gets worse (you got him
pretty good there).

And honestly, more often than not, when I get back home from work, I’m
scared what I might find if I open the door; Chanyeol is stable, but he
gets weird when I’m not there. I always wonder who would greet me the
next time I open the door, and it’s very… fun.

Tell my father that I miss him a lot. Tell him I’m sorry that I left.

I’m not sorry for choosing Chanyeol. He’s the person I’m in love with, the
person I’m happy with, and I don’t feel bad because of that. You called
him a monster once, but he’s my monster.
I hope that, someday, you'll understand.

Your bud,

Beakhyun

Hongbin chuckles. It grows into a laugh, and it doesn’t stop after that
until he’s surrounded by his family, demanding what the matter is.
What’s funnier is, he can’t tell them.

END….