#bbh x reader

Darryl yawned as he refilled the large coffee machine. His energy drink hadn't kicked in yet and he was trying to do his best to do all the necessary tasks without messing anything up. If he did, the results wouldn't be pretty. He tried his best to avoid making customers angry, although they always found a way to be regardless.

Despite being tired, he enjoyed the morning shift. It made him feel like he was doing a lot. To be fair, Starbucks was always busy no matter when you came in. It was nice to be there before opening, getting everything ready. It was a time he could relax and breathe for a moment without the stress of the frequent rushes that were common in the industry. He loved the smells of freshly brewed coffee and tea. It's one of the reasons he loved being a barista. The scent did change if it sat there for a long time, as it often did, but it is something only a barista would notice.

Currently, there were only two working before opening. Darryl was focused on brewing the various teas and coffees while his coworker made sure everything was organized and stocked for the morning. The third employee would be arriving shortly after opening. It was only a Monday and from experience, Mondays were never all that busy. There were sometimes unexpected rushes, but he wasn't going to worry about it.

Darryl did a quiet groan when he heard a specific pop song playing over the speakers. He wished that they would change the playlist regularly. He already heard many of the songs enough. He especially hated the songs that were popular ten years ago but no longer relevant today.

Light was beginning to peak through the still drawn curtains. It indicated that he needed to hurry up and finish all his tasks. He listened for the absence of the familiar hissing from the machines. Once it had stopped, he poured a few of the containers into separate pitchers. These often acted as the bases for drinks this café offered.

He began to smell the coffee in the air, and he smiled. He sure did love this.

Darryl took a deep breath and immersed himself in his work. Zoning out like this helped him lose track of the time to give himself the illusion that time was moving faster than it was. He set an alarm on his watch for five minutes before opening so he could be fully ready to serve customers. He glanced at the window. The sun wasn't quite up yet from what he could see.

He allowed his mind to wander. He wondered if he could see himself still being a barista years from now. While he enjoyed it, some days, it made him want to hop into a box and hide forever. For being one of the most helpful workers towards Americans, many of them sure did make it difficult to function. It really gave Darryl mixes signals of whether those customers liked their drinks. They always come back but always complain.

It wasn't the happiest thing to focus on, so he forced his mind to think about something else. He could picture himself working in a fancier café. One that would make their pastries every morning, instead of just heating up frozen products. One that valued quality rather than the speed the Starbucks corporation expected their baristas to work. Darryl grinned into the sink as he cleaned out a metal cup. Someday he'll gain enough experience to be able to apply to a fun place like that.

It would be a fun experience if he chose to go to culinary school for baking but being a barista meant it could sometimes be difficult to afford necessities. He knew it would not be near enough to pay for the years of school. There were programs that could assist him but through his research, the ones that applied to him had too many restrictions that he wasn't a fan of.

His watch starts beeping, pulling him out of his fantasies of having a better job. Katie, the other employee there with him, had already opened the curtains. Darryl could see a few cars waiting in the parking lot and even a young woman on her phone, patiently waiting for the doors to open.

She must really need her coffee to be here already. Darryl thought.

With nothing left to do, he tapped his fingers against the counter and watched the second hand on the clock. He was growing impatient. He wasn't even sure why he wanted the store to open this instance suddenly. He just had a feeling that today was going to be a good day.

Another alarm went off, Katie's this time, signaling that it was time for her to unlock the door. Standing up straight, he prepared himself for the very first order at the counter. The woman came up and begun to place her order. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw more people come through the door. Behind him, he heard Katie and the third employee beginning to take orders from the drive thru.

"Will that be all for you?" Darryl asked the woman.

"Yeah" she responded.

As the day went on, he made a mixture of normal orders and stranger ones for teens who had most certainly seen the combination from TikTok or Instagram. Sometimes he would make these orders for himself to try new trends. He wasn't sure he liked them as many times, it was too sweet to the point that it was undrinkable. It would be better just to get a normal drink.

The rush slowly died down allowing Darryl to take a moment to breathe. It could sometimes be a little suffocating, constantly running around in different directions making drinks. Each time, he hoped it tasted as good as the last. No one wants their morning ruined by a mediocre cup of coffee. It won't have that same punch of caffeine.

Just as he was contemplating whether he would make himself a drink, he heard the familiar chime of the door opening. He looked up from the list of recipes he was trying to decide between and saw the next customer. Darryl instantly felt his cheeks heat him from the growing blush.

He had served plenty of attractive people before, although what characteristics one finds nice will vary, but there was something different about this individual. The way his (H/C) hair lay perfectly with his face...and Darryl has seen some awful haircuts on guys who thought they were the best. The newcomer was laughing at a joke said by his companion.

This was one of the reasons had a personal rule to never flirt with any customers. He never wanted to ruin existing relationships or make anyone uncomfortable. Plenty of girls would try to get his number and he would always politely decline to give it out. Katie would always judge him for that. She thought he should try to put himself out there. He would just reiterate his rule. She had it easy anyways, being straight. Through his job, he's heard comments from groups of high school boys who thought homophobic comments were funny. Thankfully, never about himself but it made him not comfortable trying to even attempt to flirt with anyone.

Pulling himself together, he smiled and said, "Hello! What can I get started for you today?"

The customer hesitated for a few moments, "I'd like to get a London Fog please"

"Of course! Can I get you anything else?"

The customer turned to the person beside him. Darryl finished taking their order and happened to notice the twinge of jealousy he was now feeling. That wasn't fair, he knew that. The woman could be anyone and even if she was his girlfriend, he wouldn't try to do anything. He knew Katie would probably take her chance.

On cue, she comes up from behind him.

"Aren't you supposed to be making drinks?" Darryl asked, not looking at her, trying to keep his focus on making the first drink. Maybe his face wasn't as pink as he thought.

"Lia's got the window and there aren't any more people coming through. Besides, you aren't subtle at all"

He instinctively looks over the coffee machines. The woman was waiting on her phone at the end of the counter to pick up the drinks. The man, whose name was (Y/N), was in a corner, his eyes focused on a book. Darryl smiled a little.

"I have no idea what you are talking about"

Darryl chose to ignore her whispered comments, finishing the first drink. He hands it to the one waiting and starts to work on the London Fog that (Y/N) had ordered. Since there were few customers within the store, he could focus on the quality of the order. He wasn't sure why he cared more about this specific order than all the other ones he has handled today.

"Here is the other drink for (Y/N)" he finally said once he was done.

He watched her walk to the table where (Y/N) was sitting. (Y/N) looked up, taking the drink from her and his eyes shifted to Darryl. He quickly turned around to find Katie laughing at him.

"What?" Darryl asked, with a hint of aggression.

"I am sorry but-" Katie couldn't stop laughing, "I've never seen you crush that hard before"

"I'm not crushing..." Darryl mumbled.

"Sure, if you say so. I'm not going to let this go"

Both went back to taking customers' drink orders. Darryl tried to push away the thoughts of (Y/N). He always tried to be careful with the kinds of people he fell for. He's been hurt before by someone he trusted. He had been friends with his ex for years before they started dating and it just didn't work out the way Darryl expected it to.

But (Y/N) felt...different. He knows he just met him but there was a warmth and kindness from (Y/N)'s smile. The way his voice found its way into Darryl's heart.

Darryl and Katie's shifts ended at the same time so he knew that, even after leaving the building, Katie would continue to bother him about this "crush". She should really find something better to do with her time honestly.

"You're still thinking about that guy, aren't you?"

He rolled his eyes and continued to walk in the direction of his car. No, she wasn't going to let this go at all. Sighing to himself, he knew he couldn't avoid talking about the newfound feelings either, so he decided to just allow the conversation to continue.

"Leave it, Katie..." he smiled.

Darryl has never been one to be open with other people when it came to trickier topics. One of those topics included his romantic life. He liked to bury his feelings and while he hated to admit it, Katie was rather good at making him feel comfortable. Sometimes he needed her to guide him to tell the truth.

"Oh, come on!" she teased, "I can still see it in your eyes. You have a crush!"

"I don't know what you're talking about" he responded, unconvincingly.

When she continued to smile at him instead of responding, he continued.

"Please. I serve a lot of customers every day. I don't even remember his name"

That was a lie. He remembered that the customer's name was (Y/N). He couldn't forget when his mind decided to fixate on it the entire day.

She laughed.

"Next time he comes in, you better get his number. If you don't, I will get it myself"

"I hate you"

"You'll thank me once you get it!" Katie shouted as he drove off.

Over the next few days, Darryl was hoping to see (Y/N) again. Every chime of the bell made him look towards the door, hoping to see the gorgeous face of the customer that had seemingly stolen his heart. It was one of the few things that kept him going to work each shift.

Katie's threat of getting (Y/N)'s number if he didn't still lingered in his mind. It kept coming back to him, urging him to say something when (Y/N) inevitably returned. He never felt both the surest and most uncertain about his feelings before. Was this truly a crush?

His hopeful thoughts quickly became ones of panic and anxiety. He still did not know if (Y/N) had someone else or if he was attracted to men at all. Darryl knew that he would need to dive headfirst into it, or he would never get anywhere in life. He just needed that small push. He feared rejection but that would be the worst-case scenario. Well, the worst-case scenario would be rejection and being called a slur.

After days of waiting, on a quiet afternoon, (Y/N) finally returned. This time, he was alone. He was alone but still smiling brightly. Their eyes met and Darryl felt the familiar flood of heat on his face.

I'm doomed, aren't I? Darryl thought to himself. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Hello! Good to see you again!" Darryl greeted him, trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

"Oh! Hello again" (Y/N) responded with a tone of surprise.

For a moment, they stood in an awkward silence, the noises of the coffee machines in the background. Darryl felt his heart begin to race. He knew the silence had to be broken somehow.

"Will you be getting a London Fog today?" Darryl asked, hoping that he was achieving his goal of remaining calm.

(Y/N)'s eyebrow rose slightly in a pleasant surprise. "Yes actually. I am surprised you knew"

"I try to make it a goal of mine to match faces with orders, even if someone has come in just a couple of times" Darryl chuckled. He knew his memory of their short first encounter was more than good customer service.

As he prepared (Y/N)'s drink, he would sneak glances at the customer. Even after Darryl noticed (Y/N) looking back at him, he continued to look. He noticed (Y/N) was looking at him with an expression that mixed curiosity and something else. That that something else was, he didn't want to try to guess.

The idea of asking him for his number was terrifying but he had to take that chance. He couldn't imagine how Katie would attempt to embarrass him if he didn't. He knew what he had to do. As he waited for part of the drink to warm up, he took a post it note and quickly wrote down his phone number.

When it was completed, he quickly placed the drink on the serving counter and slid it across to (Y/N). His hands were shaking slightly, giving away the fake calmness he was trying to maintain. Normally, he would've wanted to hand the cup directly, but he couldn't trust himself to do that.

"Thank you!"

The customer began to turn away, it was now or never.

"Hey!" he called out.

(Y/N) turned around with a curious look on his face.

"I-" Darryl hesitated and took a deep breath, "I hope you don't mind me giving you my number"

He began to feel a mixture of fear and relief washing over him. Darryl held out the post it note he wrote his number on. (Y/N)'s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the offer. Darryl instantly regretted his decision to do this.

After what felt like many agonizing moments of silence, (Y/N)'s expression returned to its calm state. He reached out and took the note.

"Thank you" he said quietly.

Darryl felt the need to mend the situation and quickly said, "You don't need to text me or anything if you aren't interested! I totally understand if you're with someone or not interested in me or-"

"No, no," (Y/N) shook his head with a smile, "I do mean it. Thank you. I may just send you a message later"

(Y/N) gave a playful wink, which caused Darryl to blush harder.

As (Y/N) turned to walk out of the door, Darryl felt the happiness setting in. He did it. He finally did it. He now hoped that things would work out.

And so he spent the hours pondering on different scenarios, growing aware, however, that his influence on the outcome of your situation was marginal.

With all of the above considered, your family being the ones to find the two of you first did not surprise him. With the tragedy that fell upon his own, he doubted anyone would be looking for him this soon. The one that attacked them, on the other hand, probably wouldn’t assume that he managed to escape the burning building, for as long as they didn’t rummage through it to see who was left inside, which would require the fire to be put out first.

In the meantime, your family must have been currently in pursuit anyway.

And he knew, he very well knew, what it meant, when the door of the black car opened and your father stepped out, a man whom he hated with his whole existence, far more than he ever hated you, even despite your origins.

If only he was in a better state, he would risk running for it; the forest was thick, the snow was everywhere. But he was too tired, too exhausted, freezing. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized how useless would that be; he could be tracked so easily in the snow, and the sun was shining so bright that he wouldn’t be able to hide. His only hope would be that your family wouldn’t care enough and just leave him there, and then maybe, just maybe, he would find a way to the town, and survive.

But, with the events prior, with how his family put a hand on your bloodline, he had no doubt that letting him go would require a special kind of mercy that your father was not known for.

Maybe, just maybe, if he had any kind of weapon, he would take you hostage, put you in between him and your father and trade his life for yours. He felt so awfully weak and helpless though, and when you walked toward your family, finally finding your safety, he knew he’s left alone.

Yet, he hid the emotions behind a mask of indifference, glaring straight into your father’s eyes as if it didn’t bother him at all, and as if the nearest moments wouldn’t decide his fate.

He didn’t have the guts to look after you when you disappeared behind your brother. It was only when you were far away, that your father nodded at the driver, and the man disappeared in the car for a few seconds.

“Your family has finally gotten what they deserved for their unloyalty, or so I’ve heard” he spoke. The driver came out of the car, handing your father a black, polished handgun. Baekhyun refused to respond. “It was about the time you bow to those who you depend on.” His voice was ridden off emotions, tearing through remains of Baekhyun’s confidence. “I said, bow.”

With a movement lacking an ounce of hesitation, the man raised his hand and shot.

Pain shook Baekhyun’s body, originating in his ankle. The boy all but whimpered, falling to his knees. He didn’t want to pretend he had any strength left. The pain, although almost paralyzing, didn’t matter anymore; his body was too numb. He breathed heavily.

He saw the man lift the gun again, aware that the short conversation was already over.

But that was when he noticed you, pushing the door of the car open, in the corner of his vision.

That’s nice, he thought. You found it in himself to try and save him, after all that happened. But it didn’t matter, your father would not change his mind.

His thoughts started to slip away when another gunshot tore through the air. He thought for a second, was he dead? How come he didn’t feel it? Why did he not feel anything at all?

He heard a scream. And it was a masculine voice, yet, not his own…

He looked up. His eyes widened.

Your father was leaning against the car, fingers pressed into his bleeding arm. The gun fell out of his grasp and now laid discarded on the road. And to the side, stood yourself… with a gun as well. Your brother was already behind you, shock displayed on his face as much as on yours.

Did you… really? In any other circumstances, he would have laughed.

“Holy shit” your brother gawked, but only for a moment. He registered you freeze in shock for a few moments, and carefully pulled the gun out of your poor hands, noting they were starting to tremble, and then quickly hid the thing in the holster by his own belt. Your father’s loud cursing ripped through the air, making you flinch. You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to stay put.

And then ran.

To Baekhyun.

“Get up, quickly” you commanded weakly, your body shaking so much Baekhyun silently wondered how could you make a step without tripping over.

You helped him to his feet and then started pulling him toward your brother’s car. He didn’t say a word, still almost as shocked as you were, the thought of refusing the wordless offer not even crossing his mind.

Your father’s driver stared at the scene helplessly. Maybe you’d find it in yourself to be sorry for him, suspecting that your father will put part of the blame on the poor man, but it was the least of your worries at the moment. The truth was, he had no power to stop you even if he tried.

Besides, your brother already managed to get Baekhyun in the backseats.

The man fall onto the cushioned surface with a heavy thud. Chanyeol started the car, pulling you by your sleeve to stop you from staring behind and get in.

Tires screeched.

Still a bit stunned when he revved up the engine, the realization slowly sunk in. Increasing speed mirrored Chanyeol’s immense need to leave the entire scene far behind. He was only starting to grow aware that it could certainly not erase the eventual consequences of what just occurred.

In the backseats, Baekhyun laid almost motionlessly, eyes fixated on the silhouettes of people he not so long ago considered his sworn enemies.

“What the hell did you just do” he finally muttered, although not as firmly as he would like to. The warmth seeped through his body along with pain of his limbs un-freezing. His vision blurred.

“I… I don’t know” you admitted. You sounded as if you were crying, but your worn out body refused to shed tears. You managed to retrieve the first aid kit from underneath the seat, and tried to shakily wrap a band around his injured leg. “I-I panicked…”

“He’ll be fine” Chanyeol spoke, looking at the two in the mirror. “He honestly deserved it. Really. But he’ll be okay.”

“What do we do now…”

“I’ll get us somewhere safe until this all calms down.” Baekhyun could tell, he was forcing himself to stay strong for his dear sister. He somehow wished that he could be this strong, too.

“Chanyeol, I’m sorry, I dragged you into this…”

“Don’t apologize. I will keep you safe.”

They seemed to keep talking, but Baekhyun couldn’t care less. The warmth surrounding him was comforting, and he didn’t feel much pain anymore. Although the sensation of peace had to be short-living, he decided the best he can do is let himself succumb to it for the time being.

Besides, he didn’t remember the last time he felt this safe, as when your tender, cold fingers catered to his wound. He briefly thought that he could just stay like this.

⁂

“Did you know what dad did?”

Your voice was rather quiet as you sat in the front seat, next to your brother who drove the car. There was a blanket wrapped around you, but you couldn’t fall asleep, glancing at the silhouette resting motionlessly in the backseat. Although you managed to get his temperature right and the bleeding wasn’t serious, you just worried. But his breath was steady and his face was calm whenever you looked back.

Chanyeol glanced at you. His brows furrowed in concern at your own state.

“Yeah. I found out when you were taken. That’s why… I wasn’t that surprised when you stood for this Byun. I had a feeling you’d also find out one way or another.” He let out a deep sigh. “I was worried for you, really, but being on his side feels just… disgusting. I don’t know, it’s our dad, but it just doesn’t feel like it.”

“Did it ever feel like it?” you muttered, bringing your knees to your chest and wrapping yourself tighter with the blanket. Maybe you were overthinking – maybe you were just looking for excuses, as if it was obvious for years that he was not the father you deserved. Anything to make it easier to justify what you’ve done. “What do we do now, Chanyeol? I just shot our dad. To save someone he wanted dead. He came all this way to save me and I shot him. My dad.” Your hands shook as you buried face in your knees, realizing that tears finally started running freely down your cheeks, and, after all you went through, the emotions simply took over.

“You hurt him to save someone’s life” Chanyeol corrected calmly. “You didn’t do anything irreparable, but he tried to. And he’s the one who made all of this happen. He’s the reason you were kidnapped. Looking for you was the least he should have done anyway” he huffed. His words sounded sensible even to you, and you felt that if you don’t believe him, you’ll lose your mind. “How did it happen, though? I’ve heard what happened at the Byuns, but actually, why did you go with him?”

You shrugged, but memories of the last evening, so irrelevant from where you were now, came back to you.

“I was locked in the mansion when the fire broke out… He got me out to run away.” You pondered on it for a few moments. “He… saved my life. He didn’t have to, it wasn’t even his responsibility. He could have gone to help other people, too, there for sure have been people to help, and his family was there… But he saved my life.” You sniffled.

“See? So you did the right thing by saving his.” Chanyeol reached his hand and ruffled your hair comfortingly.  

“Chanyeol, what will we do now…”

He let out a sigh.

“I know some people” he announced calmly. “I hope you realize we’ll need to hide for some time if we don’t want this guy tracked. Best to stay away until it all calms down, anyway.” You nodded with understanding. “So, I have a spare car, since this one is probably easily trackable. And I have friends who will help us hide and take care of the guy. So, just trust me.”

That all sounded reasonable, but you frowned at his explanations, threads just not matching in your mind.

“Why do you have a spare car? And who are those… friends?”

Chanyeol glanced at you, raising his eyebrows as if the answer was obvious.

“You’re not the only one who’s trying to escape this farce.”

⁂

You didn’t know how long you spent in the shower of a small apartment in the most rusty area you’ve ever seen. You were certain half of the buildings should have been demolished long years ago, and you would attract more attention by arriving here with the expensive, black car your brother owned, than you ended up doing by carrying a man with shot ankle. Fortunately, your brother’s “new” car was covered in more rust than actual paint.

Your body finally managed to warm up, but fatigue was taking over and you barely found it in yourself to get out from underneath the hot stream, drying yourself with a towel you were given and putting on some sweatpants and a big flannel shirt that belonged to the apartment’s owner. The clothes were cozy and dry, and that’s all you needed them to be.

You walked into the living room, sitting nearby the man who was carefully tending to Baekhyun’s wound. You found out his name was Yixing, and he was Chanyeol’s old friend. As for a medic, his apartment wasn’t too fancy, although certainly clean and well-organized. You suspected he may have been an illegal immigrant, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the case was similar for many other inhabitants of the suspicious district.

“Will he be okay?” you asked unsurely. Baekhyun’s eyes were half-open, and he seemed to be conscious again, but certainly in no shape to answer or join the conversation. Chanyeol took off most of his wet clothes, and the man still shivered slightly, even despite blankets wrapped around him and a heating pad at his feet.

Yixing glanced at you.

“Surprisingly, yes” he announced calmly. “This” he pointed at the injury “is nothing big. The frostbite would be a bigger problem, but it miraculously doesn’t seem like he’ll be losing toes anytime soon. Lucky of him. But it will take some time before he can walk. For both reasons.”

You nodded, relieved. You closed your eyes for just a brief second and it somehow led to almost falling off the stool. Yixing eyed you cautiously with a small, polite smile appearing when you looked back.

“You should rest. I’ll need to check on you, too, but it needs to wait. My bedroom is on the left. Sorry, I didn’t have the time to change the bedsheets, but feel free to sleep there. Don’t worry about anything. He’s in good hands.”

You couldn’t express the gratitude you were feeling at the moment. No matter how suspicious this area felt, you were already certain that Yixing was a real angel living there. You thought of all the things you would do to return the kindness, but your mind started dozing off, and as soon as you arrived in the small bedroom and laid down on the bed, wrapping the duvet around yourself, everything became irrelevant and the comforting darkness swallowed you fully.

⁂

Chanyeol stood in the grocery store, in front of the rice aisle, staring at the boxes in front of him with thoughtful consideration, whether “premium rice” was any better than “rice”, considering that they both costed almost the same. He felt like a child; all his life, there was always someone to do grocery for him, to cook for him, and at some point he discovered that he never really considered how those simple daily tasks are relevant to survival.

He stared at the grocery list, written messily by Yixing and left for him to tend to. But how could he know which type of rice will be good? He knew of different types of it, obviously, but the list literally just said “rice”. With time, it got to him how much about real life he will have to learn if he decides to leave the comfort of his house and wealth.

He left the store with a huge stack of everything that he thought Yixing could need, either now or in the future, trying as well as he could to return the favor that his friend was doing for him and others right now.

The snow was falling in thick clusters, and wind had picked up, the weather becoming way worse than the day before, and he could only imagine how bad would it be, was his sister and their new acquaintance to stay in it for hours. In the old, rusty car, the heating somehow worked, but it took quite a while to warm up the space around him as he sat behind the wheel. His black car, now left behind for anyone to find, had the ability to warm up almost instantly.

He was about to start driving, when his phone rung and he glanced at the device, considering for a short moment, whether it’s something he should answer. But he put the phone by his ear.

“Chanyeol? Are you okay?!”

“…Mom.”

His voice broke when the caller’s identity became known. He felt his hands tremble when he turned the car’s engine back off.

“Are you and [F/n] okay? I’ve heard Byuns took you two hostage…!”

Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who told you that?”

“Your father, obviously…”

The woman’s voice was clearly tense, but he had an impression that more than an expression of care about your wellbeing, she demanded explanations. He needed to admit that both of your parents were quite similar in their nature; business like theirs couldn’t leave people unimpacted, and at this point, he learned not to expect too much.

“It’s not true. I shot him” Chanyeol announced, as if it was the most obvious thing. It was almost not a lie; he was the one who gave you his own gun. Upon your request, of course, but it was his choice to help you.

“You didn’t” she stated sternly. The man kept quiet for a few moments, taken aback by the answer. “The kid of Byuns’ took your gun, overpowered you and your sister. Everybody knows that.”

Her voice pressured him, and he finally got the hint; all sins could be forgiven, it said. No one needed to know what happened. Her children wouldn’t put a stain on her family’s name. That’s what it meant.

“No” he finally spoke and his voice broke once again. “That’s not what happened. What happened, is that our father tried to kill someone innocent just because that person belonged to the family he doesn’t get along with. And we just couldn’t look at it.” He felt his anger grow and he dug his fingers into the car’s steering wheel. “The truth is, he’s a ruthless murderer who doesn’t care about his family, and only about his image. And that your bloodline will die off, because you will be all left alone” he snarled.

There was a silence on the other side for quite a while, and neither of them decided to soothe it. His mother’s breath was calmer than he expected it to be. His own breaths came out ragged, yet not even an ounce of him wanted to take his words back.

“Are you certain of what you just said, Park Chanyeol?”

The weight of the situation fell onto him, but there was still nothing that would convince him otherwise; maybe just fear, crawling in him, the fear of being the one left alone in the end, of losing what he got so used to in his life. The wealth, the opportunities, the endless security that his family could provide – there would none of these be left for him. Or for you.

“I’ve never been more certain” he confirmed, his voice finally calm.

“Then don’t call yourself a Park anymore. From now on, you’re on your own. From now on, none of us will help you, care for you, shield you, because you’re not the heir of Parks. Go and live the life you chose. Wish you all the best.”

The line went dead.

He sat in his car, observing the snow fall down and gather on the hood. It would melt easily as the car was still heated up, but Chanyeol felt the stillness surround him, as if he would just bury himself in the snowflakes if given enough time.

But the stillness couldn’t last forever; not yet, not now. He still held the phone in his hand and he knew he needs to act. It was just a matter of time before his family-owned bank account would be suspended. He would be a fool if he didn’t expect that to eventually happen, so he spent the last years gradually transferring money to another account that he owned without his parents’ knowledge. Never too high amounts, knowing that there were no questions he could answer.

Now was the time to see if his efforts paid off.

There was one thing that pumped his adrenaline high, bringing him back to life after the fears and terrors of the past days. Because for the first time in his life, he felt like he was in charge of what was happening; no longer a puppet to his family’s politics, but someone who planned ahead further than his relatives did, and therefore, capable of adjusting to the situation at hand before they could make their steps known.

So, for all he had, with the banking app in his phone, he transferred all that he could without exceeding the imposed limits. That should be enough, right? He could go on with his life. His pride told him, that maybe using his parents’ money after what he’d done was not the right thing to do. But then, he realized, they had no remorse before using his whole life, his emotions, for their business. So maybe there was nothing wrong in taking what they owed him.

And, he promised himself, it would not be the last thing he would take.

Sending a single message with his phone, he turned it off, took out the battery and opened the car’s window, launching the device into the nearby trashcan.

He may have not had anything to do with his family now, but it didn’t mean he had no interests left with them. He had no doubts that the phone could be tracked, and he couldn’t have that.

He arrived back at Yixing’s flat about twenty minutes later, with his arms full of heavy bags and a wide, excited smile on his face that he just couldn’t wipe off.

Yixing was in the kitchen cooking, and his eyes widened at the sight.

“Oh, that’s… more than I asked” he muttered shyly.

“Don’t mind it” Chanyeol shrugged. “I’m trying to repay you for all… that. And, besides, I’ll need to ask you to let us stay over for a few days. I already messaged Junmyeon, but I had to throw out my phone, so he’ll probably text you instead” he spoke while placing down all the bags and starting to cautiously put items in the spots of the small kitchen that he found appropriate. Yixing observed him a bit awkwardly, clearly taken aback by the display of kindness.

“Don’t worry about it” he spoke after a moment. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, I understand that you want to stay with your sister from now on, but what about… you know… him?”

Chanyeol froze with a six-pack of milk in his hands.

“Honestly, I have no idea. You know.”

Yixing already heard some of the story, but Chanyeol trusted him like no one else.

“I really had no idea what would happen. When we found out that they’re together, I was confused too, but dad told me that he took her hostage and was probably planning to blackmail us. And I believed him. Heck, they kidnapped [F/n], of course I believed they’re bad.” He slowly put the six-pack in the fridge, although it would barely fit on the shelf. He only hoped there’s enough space for other things as well. “But then when we got her back, I took her to the car, and she just… When she realized our dad’s going to kill him, she looked completely broken. I mean, who knows, maybe it was Stockholm syndrome or something like that, but hey, they did spend the entire night in that forest, with that nasty weather, and somehow survived. If she didn’t want him dead, why would I? And besides…” Chanyeol hesitated. “It was just easy to believe they’re our enemies, but then I thought, like damn… He’s Baekhee’s brother. How could I let him die?”

“I might just get sentimental.”

They both turned their heads at the sound of a new voice.

Baekhyun stood in the kitchen’s entry, leaning against the doorframe and trying to put his weight on the uninjured leg, but his face was terribly pale and he looked like he could collapse any second.

“You can’t get up” Yixing protested right away, but it wasn’t him that Baekhyun’s eyes were fixated on. Chanyeol stared back, his face a bit tense, but it was as if some kind of mutual understanding started growing between the two. It was Baekhyun that broke the silence.

“Baekhee told me about you. She once sneaked out of family dinner to meet you. My parents were so mad” he spoke with a small smile appearing on his face. “I covered for her, though. You two are close, aren’t you?” Without waiting for Chanyeol to confirm, he continued. “You want to save her.”

“Don’t you, too?” Chanyeol asked. Although the answer was obvious, the question carried much more weight – it wasn’t meant to negate Baekhyun’s bond with his sister. In other words, it meant about the same, as: do you want to save her, together?

“We will save her” Baekhyun replied without an ounce of hesitation. “And we will all get out of here. All four of us. No more old money, no more of this cruel theater. Are you in, Park Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol couldn’t help but smirk a little, although he knew that the offer is fully serious.

“No longer a Park. But I’m in. Let’s do it.”

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it’ll help me a bunch!

You stay in your bed just a bit longer, until you smell the aroma of fresh pancakes coming from the kitchen.

Why is it always pancakes that make your heart flutter? You’d love him all the same if he made scrambled eggs or sandwiches instead. But the pancakes are different. Maybe because you know he doesn’t enjoy foods too sweet and you’re somewhat aware that he got used to making them for you. Maybe he doesn’t know he woke you up earlier, but he definitely plays this part to lure you out of the shared bedroom.

You come into the kitchen. It’s like in a cliché story – the man at the kitchen counter and his goddamn pancakes with whipped cream and blueberries. Except it’s Baekhyun, and his way of doing pancakes is not exactly like in the stories. He definitely doesn’t cook with nonchalant ease, the recipe is open on his smartphone that he already got some flour on, and, although every motion he makes is as precise as he can make it – he always does his best – there’s a pinch of chaos to his every action, that bit of milk that spills on the floor and he steps on it, or that bit of whipped cream that, despite all his best attempts, just doesn’t look right. And there’s a bug on one blueberry that almost makes him drop the whole bucket to the floor.

“I’m hungry” are your first words that he hears. You wrap arms around his torso from behind and rest your face on his back. He unfortunately has to move a lot to finish the pancakes, so the position is not as convenient as you’d like.

“Good morning to you too” he answers in a light tone. His hands work on spreading the dough on the hot pan, so you freeze behind him, not wanting him to get burned on accident. Such accidents happen way too often to the two of you.

“Are these for me?” you question nonchalantly, pointing at the pancakes already prepared.

“I need to leave soon, you’ll have the next batch, okay…?”

“I was just joking, I know. Sit down and eat, I’ll finish.”

He looks at you with uncertainty, as if he was afraid of disappointing you. He feels guilty for being selfish and taking the first batch, you guess.

You put hands on his cheeks and pull his face closer to yours, disregarding the morning breath. You press your lips into his and his facial muscles relax, comfortable again.

“You’re amazing, Hyun. Thank you for being here.”

The corners of his lips lift into a shy smile even despite morning grogginess still heaving at his features. You lead him to the table and put the pancakes in front of him.

The only thing he can think of is that the sweetness of your lips is one he couldn’t live without, even though it’s way sweeter than the pancakes.

The second one is throughout the day, although you wish it was material.

You just finished a video call that has drained all your strengths. Work is tough, and lately it’s even tougher. You’ll have to pull off some overtime soon, and your manager is struggling showing your team’s progress to the higher-ups, so it all falls on the team member’s shoulders. But that’s just a part of the work routine, you’ve been riding a high of extraordinary results for the past few months, and now is the time to humble down.

You left the call with fatigue wearing over you, realizing that there’s still a few painfully long hours until the shift ends. At least today you don’t have to stay too long.

Less than five minutes pass before your phone suddenly rings, and you get up from the table, excusing yourself into the office kitchen to pick it up.

“Hi, baby. How you doin’?”

“Take me hooooome” you let out a long whimper.

“Oh? Are you okay?” Baekhyun sounds concerned, but the dramatics in your tone, paradoxically, quickly calms him down. You wouldn’t sound like that if something serious happened.

You’d rant about your work later, you decided, for now all he needed to know was that you’re tired, you miss him, and you’d rather never leave his side again than keep being an independent, full-time employed woman. You spill all this information at him all at once, which makes him break into laughter, and you let out a long whine.

“Hyuuuuun!”

“Sorry, sorry” he tries to calm his voice down. “But you’re so cute when you’re dramatic.”

“Don’t call me dramatic!” you whine even louder. Someone passes by you, shooting you a dirty glance. “I know I am, just don’t call me that” you add quietly.

“There, there. Let’s talk about it when we’re home, okay? I need to go back to the practice, I was just on a break.”

You let out a sigh.

“Sorry for this. Yes, let’s talk later. Thank you for calling.”

“Don’t apologize. But you’re welcome. Miss you.”

“Miss you too.”

You hear a typical Baekhyun-ish “smooch” come from the phone, followed by someone’s teasing laughter in the background and Baekhyun’s “oh shut it” spoken a bit away from the mic. The call ends.

He may not have fixed any of your problems, but you feel much more at ease now, and all of sudden the work difficulties don’t seem so bad anymore.

The third one is in the late evening, when you two are finally back home again.

You’re already after shower and tucked into your bed, trying to relax with a book, although it’s not easy to focus after such an eventful day. You yearn for rest instead, and so the book rests in your hands but no pages go by. You’re more focused on your phone instead, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

But when you hear the apartment room open, your eyes snap up and you get up with newly acquired passion and energy.

He’s just as tired as you are, you can tell. He hangs his jacket by the door and you see how worn out his face is. But it lasts just moments before his eyes meet yours and his face immediately lights up.

“Baby!” is all he says with a wide smile when you wrap arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that he reciprocates with his full strength.

“Oh, oh, you’re suffocating me” you choke out when his hold becomes a bit too much.

“Sorry, sorry” he says with his voice muffled by your own shoulder, but his hold doesn’t get much weaker. “I missed you. I had to stay late because we’re barely meeting deadlines lately. I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up.”

“That’s okay, I’m just happy you’re back. Let’s go to bed.”

“I need to shower, I…”

“Just come with me.”

The moment he releases you, you hold his hand and pull him to the bedroom, sitting him on the soft mattress. He doesn’t waste a second before laying down and melting into the sheets, suddenly deciding that maybe the idea of falling asleep right then and there isn’t so bad after all.

You lay down next to him and both of you stare at the ceiling above your heads. The light is dim, and through the window partly open, the evening breeze refreshes the air inside. Somewhere far below you hear noises of cars, driven by other people, probably on their ways to their own beloved ones as well.

Baekhyun’s hand brushes your pajama’s pants before finding your own. He intertwines his fingers with yours, lightly, the touch barely there, but the warmth present.

You hear him sigh, your breaths slowing down.

“I didn’t even take the shoes off” he finally notices, voice slightly whiny, but only as much as he can make it at this hour.

You breathe out a laughter when a small thought appears in the corner of your mind.

You push yourself off the mattress and his eyes follow you curiously when you get down on the floor in front of him. With delicate fingers, you take hold of one shoe and untie it, gently pulling it off his foot and placing on the floor. He lets out a pleased sigh when you do the same with the other. You finish the deed by giving his sock-clad feet a loving pat and then climb back onto the mattress.

“Thank you” he mumbles. “May I?”

Without waiting for your response, he takes your hands in his and brings to his lips. Although sluggish and sleepy, small kisses litter your fingers, palm, thumb, the surface, wrists…

“This is nice” you admit.

“You’ve worked hard, I want to treat you” he whispers into your skin.

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to.”

You’ve been laying on your side, facing him, but he takes his time pushing you on your back and rearranging pillows underneath your body. His movements are slow and sleepy, but patient and careful at the same time.

His lips trace up your arm, lingering here and there, breathing in the soft scent of your body and the shower gel you always use. His nose brushes your shoulder and you put your hand on top of his head, stroking it lightly in approval. Peck after peck, he warms up your neck as well, worshipping all small details of your anatomy.

Finally he slows down, lips pressing into your jaw, then chin.

He hovers above you, eyes finally meeting and the two of you staring at each other with adoration. He lets out a small chuckle.

“You love me so much” he states confidently.  

You don’t find it in yourself to tease him back.

“I do. Do you love me too?”

His smile disappears, although the tenderness is still there.

“Why do you ask?”

“I just like hearing you say that.”

Baekhyun’s gaze softens and the smile returns to his face. You briefly think that if he was any less tired, he would tease you some more. In the end, though, the result would be just the same.

He leans down into your ear. You can’t see his face from this perspective, but his voice is clearer than ever.

“I. Love. You.” He separates each word, stretching the full sentence, keeping you on your toes until the whole thing sounds out. “More than the world.”

“I love you too” you answer instantly.

It was no secret that it can be hard dating a content creator. (Y/N) had many creator friends who had their relationship public and he's seen the good and bad affects of doing that. Some flourish in the spotlight, showing off that perfect life, while others have seen the strain. He has witnessed many breakups and it wasn't fun to witness his friends go through so much pain, especially when millions of fans were involved.

He was grateful there were friends that trusted him enough to know the status of their relationship and in turn, he knew the status of his own was safe with them as well. (Y/N) was not a famous YouTuber or streamer by any means. Sure, he did a Twitch stream occasionally and a YouTube video rarely but he did not consider himself on the same level as his boyfriend or any of his other friends. That life was something he did not need the stress of.

(Y/N) saw the stress Darryl had keeping up with content creation and his public persona. He was glad his partner always set aside time to spend with him. He sometimes wondered how actors could spend months at a time away from their families. He wondered if it carried the same association of a musician going on tour.

One thing (Y/N) loved to do is watch Darryl's streams and bring him things as needed any time he mentioned them. It was (Y/N)'s way of telling Darryl he was watching. You'd think he would be mod with how much he spent watching but the pair agreed it was best if that didn't happen. Being mod could cause people to start looking into who (Y/N) was. Some fans could be a bit intense with how they treated their favorite people and those surrounding them.

On today's stream, Darryl had a camera set up to show Rat, who was currently sleeping on her bed, and the audience were loving it. They would commentate on everything she was doing. Every turn, every yawn, and every blink of her eyes. It was a bit much but Darryl preferred this greatly over some of the spam he's had to endure over the years.

Rat wasn't her actual name but it fit her so well that it might as well be her name. It's one of those nicknames you give your pets that become so common in your day to day life that using the original name seems wrong. Even when he wasn't using his BadBoyHalo persona, Darryl would sometimes say or do things that he would typically only say or do while streaming, including saying Rat. (Y/N) found it adorable.

(Y/N) didn't love Darryl because of him being a popular YouTuber. He loved Darryl for Darryl, and he appreciated that. Darryl didn't need to keep up his online persona in his personal life. He wasn't having to live a lie with his boyfriend. The lie was to his audience.

He was watching the stream, which was mainly building a new base, while trying to finish a personal project. He had all of his work out on the kitchen island and his laptop with the stream off to the side. (Y/N) kept moving the laptop around as he didn't want to bury it underneath all of his work.

"Does this look right chat? I can't decide if I like this color or this color"

(Y/N) checked the stream to see the context. Darryl was designing the entrance to the base and had several ideas for the color palette. The chat seemed to be split between the two options he had shown. (Y/N) quickly typed his opinion in chat and went back to his work.

"Yes, I think I am going to agree with everyone saying this one. Sorry to those who said the other. Both were very good options"

He continued to make progress and was slowly clearing the table.

"'What is your favorite drink'? Hmm...that is a good question. I think I'd say hot chocolate. Man, I'd love some right now"

In that moment, (Y/N) got an idea.

He thought it would be a good idea to make some hot chocolate for Darryl as a surprise and for him to have a treat to enjoy while streaming. He found the container in the cabinet and started the process of making it. Normally he would make the whipped cream but they, unfortunately, didn't have the cream or the vanilla he preferred to use. He chose to just use the can in the refrigerator.

Occasionally he would hear Darryl say something hilarious from reading chat and (Y/N) would let out a laugh. He loved his goofy self.

Once the hot chocolate was done, he topped it with the whipped cream and a little bit of cinnamon.

He walked into Darryl's room and could see he was busy with his game and reading chat. Rat was sleeping peacefully in her bed. With a careful eye on the hot chocolate, (Y/N) made his way across the room. He taps Darryl's shoulder to alert him.

"Oh gosh, you scared me" he jumped.

"Sorry," (Y/N) laughs softly, "I thought you might like some hot chocolate"

He hands Darryl the mug, whose face immediately lights up at the sight of it. He takes it from his boyfriend and places it on the part of his desk where he knows he won't accidentally knock it over.

"Should've known you were watching my stream"

"Of course. They're always very interesting"

"Chat certainly makes it interesting"

They both glance at chat. It was a mix of emoji and meme spam and people beginning to question who was talking.

"Indeed they do," (Y/N) turns to Rat, "Sorry to wake you, Rat"

He kisses her head and pulls out a dog treat from his pocket. He offers it to Rat, who immediately takes it. Dogs were always really hilarious to watch eating a treat. (Y/N) did know he was in view of the Rat Cam but in this moment, he wanted to forget.

"Would you like me to order food for you? I was considering getting something for myself but thought I'd ask you as well"

"I'd love some. I'll text you once I figure out what I want"

"Great. Enjoy your stream"

(Y/N) gives Darryl a soft kiss and leaves the room. Darryl was grateful he wasn't using his webcam. He was burning from the blush that would be very clear to an audience.

"I know what my chat is going to say. (Y/N) is just my roommate, I've said that many times before" Darryl says.

He really did wish he could tell them the truth but now just wasn't the time. One thing that was important was time. He wanted the time with (Y/N) where his audience wasn't going to constantly ask about the relationship or try to dig into their personal lives. He liked that peace. Separating his work and personal life is how he liked to live.

A lot of their friends knew they were roommates but only a small group knew of their relationship status. Darryl trusted the people who knew.

"I think communities of content creators sometimes look too deeply into the things the creator shares with their audience. Friends will playfully interact with each other, that doesn't mean they are attracted to each other. People will have roommates, that doesn't mean they are dating"

He could see that chat was still the mess that it was. On top of the normal spam, it was now filled with speculation and theories about who (Y/N) really was. It wouldn't stop as that is just how some fans can be but he could ignore it in the best way he could.

"Let's go back to this game, shall we?" Darryl sighs

He glances at chat and sees a familiar chatter.

(U/N): People are so nosey smh

But the world he lived in wasn’t perfect, and your small silhouette, instead of looking out for him coming home, would tremble from fear when he approached.

You’d stay in the room he prepared for you, locked for the time he was away, but even when he was back and the door was unlocked, you wouldn’t want to face him. He made sure you had access to everything you needed, he rearranged the apartment so you had your own bathroom as well; he even prepared things like TV and books to busy your time with if you truly didn’t want to approach him. But, even though he bought so many things for you to feel comfortable, you hesitated before even touching them. And if he even thought about wrapping arms around you… your fragile heart couldn’t possibly handle it, the fear overwhelming you, as if he truly wanted to take your life away. But he would never do this, and his own heart broke at the mere thought, and the fact you could believe it.

He sat down by the kitchen table and looked at his phone – the camera in your room proved that you were in your bed, although no sound was coming from there. Your days mostly looked like that; after weeks had passed and you got used to him enough to eat the food he prepared without fear, and you’d use the bathroom without checking every corner for a camera that, really, wasn’t there, yet, there was nothing convincing you to come out and talk to him, welcome him home, try to spend time with him. Baekhyun’s life was anything but perfect, and he came to a realization that maybe there were things he could have done better in the past, maybe he could have approached you in a way that wouldn’t mean kidnapping, but hell, did he not know how to do that at all. There was nothing else that made sense to him. He didn’t want to wait any longer; he thought that if given no opportunity to fall in love with someone else, you’d eventually accept him in his life. But he was wrong, and now he was stuck in this inconvenient situation that he had no idea how to fix.

He watched you in the camera for a few minutes, wondering whether you’re asleep or just resting. He didn’t want to wake you up, but then he saw you roll over and let out a sigh with your eyes open. He gave you a few more minutes just in case you did barely wake up, and stood up, walking toward your room.

He knocked, quietly at first, not wanting to startle you. In the screen of his phone still held in his hand, he saw you sit up abruptly and pull knees up to your chest. Would you come and open the door? Or tell him to come in? Both required courage – you could do it, he believed in you.

“Y… yes…?” you spoke, so quietly that he barely heard you.

He unlocked the door carefully and faced the dark space, with the curtains pulled over and your silhouette drowsily wrapped in the blankets, as if it was an early morning. Although the initial terror had passed and you became just a bit accustomed with his presence, your back was still pushed into the wall behind your back, looking at him warily. For all the times him coming into your room had made you cry, this must have been a progress, right?

“Could we talk?”

“About what?” you asked defensively.

He retreated a bit, hanging onto the doorknob as if it was his anchor. The tone of your voice was hurting him, making him so sad – he hated himself so much for what he’d done to you.

“I have something for you. It’s small… Come when you’re ready.”

Not giving you – or himself – any more time to worry, he left, closing the door behind, but leaving the lock open this time.

It was a late evening and he barely came out of shower, hair still damp and comfortable attire on, that he noticed you sitting by the table in the kitchen, head lowered and hands folded in your lap. When you heard him leave bathroom, you glanced up, a bit fearfully at first, but then letting your guards down a little. Was it a good sign? Baekhyun could only hope.

He approached you carefully, not wanting a single wrong step to scare you again. He walked towards the kitchen drawer, and took out a box of chocolate candy – a flavor he knew you liked, he’d seen you always buy it when in a good mood, at the time when he watched your normal days pass by. There was a ribbon wrapped around the box just to make the point, but it wasn’t that big or grand; he just wanted to lift your mood a little, so he placed the box on the table, sitting opposite of you and then pushing it carefully towards you, as if he was trying to feed a wild animal.

You hesitated, but it seemed that you were willing to accept this small bribe – when was the last time you ate? He couldn’t tell; chocolate was not there to fill you, so he frowned slightly at that realization. Your room, although locked, had a small fridge and a microwave in it, and he made sure you always had access to all you needed without having to leave your room if you didn’t want to. So why did you seem malnourished? Was it because of stress…?

Watching you fight with yourself made him lose all the remaining confidence. He only stared down at his hands until he finally found it in himself to send you a single, worried glance. You haven’t looked back just yet – only pulled the box toward yourself, and with just as much tenderness as he showed previously, undid the ribbon and opened the box. Your eyes lighted up ever so slightly at the sight of a snack you genuinely enjoyed.

“Why?” you asked suddenly. 

You’ve had this discussion before, he remembered every single time you came back to it. You’ve asked him countless of times, why did he do it to you? Why wouldn’t he let you go? What was his goal? Why must he hurt you…?

“…I want to fix things” he admitted weakly, looking back down. He felt so vulnerable, so broken – more than you did, but he wanted you to see this side of himself, he wanted you to see how it impacted him as well. He wished you’d take advantage of him at this moment; hell, he could only dream of another perfect world, in which he would give in to you, let you be in charge of his life; in which he would be in your spot now, kept without a free will at your place, but happy to belong to you with his entire existence. But he couldn’t dream for long, he knew. Not when you looked at him with those big eyes of yours, with fear and uncertainty still lingering. “I never… wanted to hurt you.” These words you must have heard him say before countless of times. He could only hope that they would sound better today. “Can I… do anything so you would trust me? Just a bit… Just so you wouldn’t hate me.”

Neither of you moved, his eyes cast down as to not make you feel any more out of place than you already were. He felt weak, he needed comfort, even though he knew he couldn’t count on any. But he let himself escape to his perfect world for just a moment, imagining your hands reach out to him and touch his shoulder. Just that much would heal his soul.

“Are you crying…?”

Your voice brought him back. He reached to his face – a single tear ran down his nose, his face must have been so red. When he tried o breathe in, he found himself sniffling instead, and he stood up, hurrying to the sink nearby to throw cold water in his face. But he remained there even as he wiped it, fearful of facing you again.

“You’re a sad person” you eventually spoke. “I’m sorry for you” you continued. It must have been the most you spoke to him in the past week. “You said you won’t let me out so… it’s not like our um… relationship… can become healthy, I mean… You kidnapped me, it’s not something that can be just brushed off.” You cleared your throat, fidgeting in your seat, as though the fact that you had so much to say surprised you as well. “But I… can tell this impacts you a lot, too. You don’t seem like a bad person… Maybe not a good one, but… I do honestly think you need help, and that most of things can still be fixed, if given enough time…”

He turned around, looking at you, still uncertain.

“What I mean, is… If you reach out for someone’s help, a professional, I mean… I may try and do my part in, you know… not making it hard on you. As long as you’re… you know, willing to improve.”

Did he want to?

He so strongly believed that he was doomed for life, that, if he couldn’t undo what he’d done, there would be no way to ever be happy again. He was certain that it was just him – his personality, his soul, the way he existed, the way he was shaped by his life.

But if you said that there was hope for him; if you said that he could become better, become someone you wouldn’t fear; if you even wanted to help him in it, how could he doubt?

“I want to… try” he eventually announced, voice a bit stabler.

“Good.” You nodded, still clearly unsure as to how process the change in dynamics, but you managed to look at him now – still shy and lost, but not fearful anymore, as if you finally accepted that he’s not a threat to you, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

Looking through the window of his car at the scene nearby, he felt nothing but envy fill him to the core. And the more he stared, the more he suffered. Pain filled his heart and his mind, constant agony twisting his insides. He felt bad; how could someone else’s happiness make him feel so bad? Yet, he didn’t think there was anything he could do against it. Because over there, about twenty meters from him, behind the window of a café, there was a man looking exactly like him, but smiling widely when intertwining fingers with the girl next to him – and she looked just as happy.

It had to be unhealthy.

Although Baëkhyun never got to touch her, his feelings seemed to follow the same track as the original of him. When he saw her smile at the other warmly, he thought that she could be smiling at him the same way. Her beauty, her voice, everything about her that he would normally dismiss if she was about anyone else, unrelated to the entire situation – somehow he couldn’t get it out of his head.

And he wanted her all for himself.

It was a late evening, and the café would close soon. There was still some time left, though, and he observed the couple as he parked behind the store and got out of car unhurriedly, moving towards the building. With a hood covering his head – serving to cover his face in the first place, but it was justified in the cold, autumn weather – he entered the café and walked towards the bar, ordering some donut from the display. He didn’t really want drinks, he couldn’t spend time waiting for them to be delivered. In the corner of his eye, he still watched the two.

Not a minute passed before the man got up, patting her shoulders and kissing her cheek – Baëkhyun felt his throat tighten – and walking towards the restrooms. Perfect, really, he didn’t know he could be this lucky.

Putting the donut in the pocket of his hoodie, he followed the man; the similarity always impressed him. Regardless of him being the copy, looking at the original made him think how good that man could impersonate him; the hair color, the skin, even the way he walked. He could make every single expression of his, mimic the tone of his voice perfectly. They were just so close, closer than twins; all that differed them, were their memories.

Baëkhyun shivered slightly as he recalled the years spent in the facility that created him. Until he matured, he was nothing but a subject. He didn’t think that anyone considered him a being of his own – as if he didn’t possess consciousness, couldn’t think of himself. It took years before he managed to achieve freedom.

And where was the other him all this time? Where was Baekhyun?

Living his best life, having a job, and slowly building a stable future with the woman that he fell in love with. The woman who, as the time passed and Baëkhyun spent it observing them from afar, became as close to his heart as she was to the original.

The envy was so, so unhealthy. But Baëkhyun deserved all of this, too.

“Hi.”

He opened the toilet’s door before the other could even get to his business. He watched as Baekhyun’s face turned from annoyance, to confusion, to… fear. Baëkhyun sighed sentimentally – he’d seen this expression on himself countless times before. Did Baekhyun know? What real fear is?

Baëkhyun wasn’t evil. He didn’t hate, or resent the other one. He only wanted to have what he yearned for, at any cost given.

“Can we go out? We need to talk.”

He wondered, whether she was even aware of his existence; if Baekhyun never thought to mention it to her, it would only make his job all the easier.

“Why now? I’m busy” Baekhyun muttered, concern written all over his face.

“I insist.”

“Make it short.”

They walked out through the extra door at the back, standing nearby the car Baëkhyun parked.

He thought that he should say something, explain himself in some way. What he was about to do, would haunt him for life, no matter how short; he wasn’t a conscience-lacking creature. He was just… lonely. But there was nothing to say. Nothing would justify him, he knew.

As soon as they stood in an angle that felt right, he took out a metal string kept in his pocket and quickly, without the shortest moment of hesitation, wrapped it around the other’s throat, tightening with all the strength he had, before the other could even say a word. Baekhyun wriggled, trying to push him away, slip his fingers between the string and his skin, but the pressure was too much.

“Stand… still… please” Baëkhyun huffed, struggling to remain in position as well. He stumbled backwards and fell onto the pavement, pulling the other along and momentarily weakening the grasp – enough for Baekhyun to take just one, strained breath, before it was pulled again. He tried to make it strong enough to cut through the skin, to make things faster, but he found himself lacking strength to do that. But depriving him off breath should be enough, right? Would just take a bit longer, a few painfully long minutes…

“BAEKHYUN!”

Hearing the voice come from the café’s entry made him suddenly freeze, his grasp loosening, all thoughts slipping away. Baekhyun, with remains of energy, pushed himself off, and Baëkhyun didn’t follow him this time.

His gaze was fixated on the terrified silhouette nearby, even when Baekhyun stumbled towards her, wrapping arms around her, coughing in panic and fear that still didn’t subside, the cause of his terror still present and alive – Baëkhyun himself, not moving from his spot on the cold and dirty pavement.

And as Baëkhyun stared at her with his eyes big and full of guilt and fear of his own, she stared back in confusion, disbelief, and disappointment.

Although he thought he could prepare himself for this moment; although he thought he’ll have control of all the things happening, nothing could prepare him for the way she looked at him for the first time. Not with happiness or curiosity, not with love or trust, but with fear and resentment that crushed him completely, leaving him absolutely broken and hopeless.

He realized that, out of all things, he didn’t deserve her love.

He knew that if he ended what he started, she’d never look at him the way he yearned. He wanted so badly to run to her and beg for forgiveness, understanding; but her side was not for him to stand by, and her loving gaze not for him to enjoy.

But he knew that, even with no hope in sight, he would never stop watching her, and dreaming of being where the original was.

The house often smelled like baked goods. It ranged from the cinnamon from an apple pie to the sweetness from a cake. The kitchen was filled with cookbooks and supplies to make so many different treats.

This was all because of Darryl. On top of being a content creator, he was a baker. One of the things he was known for was using the word muffin in place of swear words. Although he used it so often, his passion for the food wasn't as great as his passion of swearing using the word.

But, it being brought up so often inspired him to learn how to bake. It started off as just muffins. Simple ones like chocolate chip and blueberry. This hobby grew to cupcakes and cakes. Instead of buying a cake from the store or getting a custom one at a bakery, Darryl insisted on making it for (Y/N)'s birthday.

(Y/N) felt a little bad because he could tell Darryl was trying his best to make the perfect cake. It looked stressful. Sometimes (Y/N) helped mix batter, pour something, or taste test a frosting. He always supported Darryl's work. It make him happy to see others happy. It was cute. It was one of the many things he loved about his boyfriend.

Today, as Darryl was busy, (Y/N) wanted to make muffins for him to eat later. He has never really done it on his own before as he's always helped Darryl makes his. But he had recipe books, which were usually reliable. Sometimes it wouldn't turn out how it said it was supposed to but that could be because of many factors. One of which was (Y/N) wasn't as talented as Darryl or the cookbook at baking.

He put on his favorite playlist and begun to work. He preferred working with music as it was too quiet if he tried to work without it. The world was quiet without it. It's strange as many people preferred to live unplugged from their devices and enjoy the natural sounds of life. (Y/N) could understand that and in certain situations, agreed that it was better. However, having sounds like music or an audiobook or one of Darryl's videos soothed (Y?/N) and it was easier to focus.

(Y/N) made sure to prepare all of the ingredients beforehand. It didn't make as much of a mess as doing it all in the moment would. He wanted to make it as easy as possible when it came to cleaning. Some dishes after being used for baking just don't like to get cleaned.

While humming to one of his favorite songs (Y/N) smiled. He couldn't wait for Darryl to see what he had made and knowing that his boyfriend would be pleased, that brought (Y/N) a lot of joy.

Meanwhile, up in Darryl's room, he was in the middle of a Twitch stream. He was just casually playing Minecraft with friends, as he often did. It was on an SMP server and Darryl was trying to add onto his base to make it bigger.

"Twelve...Thirteen...Fourteen....Fif-"

"Yo, Bad. Can you shut up?" one of his friends interrupted, laughing.

"Well, how else am I supposed to keep track of how many blocks I placed? I want it to be even" Darryl responds, defensively.

"Counting in your head?" the friend asks like it was obvious.

"Well, not everyone can do tha-" Darryl stops speaking as he heard something downstairs.

It was (Y/N) shouting his name. It sounded like it was important and Darryl wanted to help in whatever way he could. Telling his friends and his viewers he would be back soon, he put on his Be Back Soon screen and made his way downstairs.

As he got closer to the kitchen, he smelled the scent of muffins and felt the warmth coming from the oven. Darryl liked when (Y/N) baked. (Y/N) wasn't as good as himself but he always appreciated when his boyfriend made him. But surely he would've waited to call Darryl down since he was streaming.

When he entered the kitchen, he saw (Y/N) holding his hand under cold water from the sink. He noticed the open oven and muffin tray partially out of the oven.

"Are you alright?" Darryl asks.

(Y/N) nervously laughs and shakes his head.

"I wanted to make you some muffins to have after your stream," he responds, pointing to the oven, "When I was taking them out, it slipped and I accidentally burned my hand. Twice"

"Oh no. Does it hurt badly?"

"I just burned my hand, of course it does"

Not wanting (Y/N) to have to remove his hand from the stream of water, Darryl went into the bathroom to get burn ointment and something to wrap the hand in. Burns were common in the house as it happens when you're baking. Trying new techniques and the process of learning can sometimes leads to touching something. Everything cools at a different rate so it can be hard to judge when something is done.

Returning to the kitchen, Darryl pulled the muffin tray all the way out of the oven, placing it on the cooling rack and closed the oven door. They were cooked perfectly. They had the classic muffin top. None of them were sinking back into the pan.

"Hold out your hand"

Darryl took (Y/N)'s hand applied the ointment to the clearly burned area. It did not look terrible but the red was bright.

"Ow" (Y/N) whined.

"You'll be okay" Darryl reassures (Y/N), "I do appreciate this though. Do you mind if I take some up now?"

"Yeah, of course. They may be a little warm"

Muffins were always the best warm. Darryl preferred it that way. They did not need to cool before you put any toppings on it.

Grabbing a few and putting them on a plate, he turns and kisses (Y/N) on the forehead.