Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You weigh too much.”

Those four words reverberate through his mind as he sits almost completely naked on the clinic bed. Large, sad eyes stare down at the pudge protruding from his stomach area and he snags his bottom lip between his teeth. Soon enough, he is looking at his thighs and he quickly rises from the bed so he can pace around the room. His mind has been running in circles ever since his manager had confirmed his worst fear.

“I-I don’t understand,” he mutters bitterly, his fingers patting the flabby areas lightly. They didn’t jiggle as much as he feared they would, and that only angers him further. How much more weight did they expect him to lose? Would he have to be anorexic for them to be happy with him?

“If you keep gaining weight like this, Chanyeol, you’re never going to get another magazine contract in your life.”

He scoffs as new dialogue from his earlier conversation with his manager surfaces. Junmyeon has always told him to watch his weight, that he weighed too much to be signed, and that his eating habits were the problem. Chanyeol just couldn’t comprehend how the small pudge on his stomach and thighs was such a big deal. He liked being a little flabby but Junmyeon wanted all of that to disappear.

“What’s so wrong with the way I look right now? Am I ever going to be good enough for this fucking company?” His loud, harsh words are lost in the silence and he clenches his fists to stop himself from tearing everything apart. Being left alone in the white room, smelling heavily of disinfectant has his mind going through a roller coaster of emotions. He can’t decide whether to pin the stupid doctor to the closest wall or cry because yet again his weight is a problem for his manager.

“Why doesn’t he lose some fucking weight?” He comments bitterly before returning to the bed. The annoying paper crinkles under his body weight and he wraps his lanky arms around his upper half. They took his clothes when they left the first time and he was left standing there in his black boxers. The air vent above him is blowing harshly and goosebumps litter his pale skin.

A knock echoes through the room and his head lifts up as Junmyeon and the doctor re-enter the white room. The doctor is a middle-aged man, short hair with a receding hairline and a huge, white coat. Chanyeol resists the urge to snarl at the idiots before him and instead decides to bring his knees closer to his chest. He doesn't like feeling so naked and vulnerable in front of these two.

“We're going to put you on diet pills,” Junmyeon finally says, taking a small slip of paper from the doctor. “We just need that little bit of weight off and then I'll leave you alone,” he adds when he sees the sour expression on the model’s face.

“Is this really necessary?” His bitter tone rings through the room and both of the men before him sigh. Junmyeon has tried many crazy stunts before to get that weight off of the young model, but the thought of having to take diet pills puts him on edge. “I don't want to be underweight, Suho.”

“Do you want to keep your job?” Junmyeon counters back quickly, folding his arms over his chest, and narrowing his eyes at the angry model. “Because if you gain any more weight my company will have to drop you. You did sign a contract.”

The last part makes Chanyeol close his mouth. He knew from the beginning he couldn't surpass a certain weight, he just didn't know he was close enough to the limit for Suho to be so overbearing. His cheeks start to tint pink, and even though he loves his body the way it is, he loves his job much more.

“I'll do anything to keep this job,” he finally mutters, defeat spreading a cold feeling through his body. He can't tell if it’s the air vent or the embarrassment making him feel so tingly, but he quickly takes his clothes back from the doctor.

“When does most of your eating occur?”

“At night, usually when I can’t sleep. Other than that, I don’t really snack and since I can’t cook I usually eat out or make some ramen.” Chanyeol doesn’t want to cooperate with the doctor, the judgemental glint in his cold eyes is making the model’s anger flare, but at this very moment his job means more than petty feelings. The doctor hums and his pen glides across a page on his clipboard. Chanyeol wants to take that pen and clipboard and shove them straight up the doctor's-

“You’ll want to cut out any additional eating and change your eating habits, Mr. Park. Maybe you should hire a personal Chef since your busy lifestyle doesn’t permit you to take any cooking classes.”

“A chef? That’s a little unnecessary,” Chanyeol argues. The thought of even having someone else in his kitchen rummaging through his precious food makes him extremely uncomfortable. “I’ll just eat salads every night or something! There’s no reason for me to have a chef in my home!”

“The doctor is right,” Junmyeon finally cuts in. “If we have someone else in charge of your kitchen you may be less likely to go in there and scavenge for food late at night. Plus, having someone there to prepare healthy meals for you could be really beneficial.”

“Can’t I just order healthy food?” Chanyeol suggests, pulling his skinny jeans up his legs. All he can imagine is having some wrinkly, old man who has dedicated his whole life to learning about calories and nutrition throwing away all of his precious food. The thought makes his skin crawl. “Better yet, why don’t you just let the maid cook? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind!”

“Jaehwa has enough on her hands just cleaning up after you,” Junmyeon chuckles lightly as the model hurriedly pulls the shirt over his head. “She has a family to go home to, three kids and a sick husband, she doesn’t have time to cook three meals for you a day.”

“I don’t want another person running around my house, Junmyeon! It’s bad enough that you hired Jaehwa without my permission!”

“Stop being a brat, Chanyeol. You’re getting a chef whether you like it or not.”

“Well, then I guess that’s settled,” the younger mutters under his breath, reaching for his phone. He checks the time and exhales loudly when he sees how late in the afternoon it is already. He would’ve already eaten and he hopes his empty stomach won’t make any noise while he’s stuck here. “Are we done here? I’m tired and would like to have dinner soon.”

“I’ll be sure to get you a chef within the week, Chanyeol. Try not to eat too much junk in the meantime,” Junmyeon comments before leaving the small, white room. The doctor eyes him for a moment before taking a step closer to him.

“I know that I am the company doctor and really shouldn’t tell you this, but I have this nephew who has majored in nutrition. I think he could be a lot of help.” The wrinkles on the old man’s face lift as he gives the model a small smile and Chanyeol has to concentrate hard on not rolling his eyes. Why is it that everyone around him, even the company doctor, is trying to get something from him.

“I think that you should be talking to Junmyeon about possible suitors since I obviously don’t have a say in what happens anymore.”

Chanyeol ends the conversation by bowing slightly and making his way from the room. Even his clothes smell like disinfectant from being in the clinic too long and he sighs with content when he finally makes it to his car. He slides into the passenger seat slowly, defeat weighing his body down, and his driver chuckles lightly.

“I’m guessing that didn’t go so well,” Yixing comments, humor dancing in his tone.

“Just drive, Yixing, and for the sake of everything holy find a fast food place because our eating habits are about to change. Thanks to this quack doctor, we’ll be receiving our own personal chef by the end of the week.”

“No, young sir, your eating habits are about to change,” Yixing continues to laugh, pulling the vehicle from the parking lot. He sets his course to the closest fast food place and knows that they won’t be going home until Chanyeol has had his literal fill. He doesn’t mind though, the younger male usually buys enough food for the both of them to be full for days.

“Oh no,” Chanyeol laughs evilly, sitting up in his seat, and buckling his seatbelt. “You live under my roof and if my eating habits have to change, then so do yours!”

Yixing just laughs lightly and shakes his head. He’s been living with Chanyeol for about three years, so by now he’s used to the younger’s commands. Junmyeon changes his diet frequently and Yixing has always been affected by these changes. He’s gone from cheeseburgers to salads in seconds, and although it isn’t ideal, he definitely isn’t bothered by it anymore.

~~

“If I eat another bite, I’ll explode,” Chanyeol moans out, a fry hanging from his lips. Three burgers, two medium fries and two soft drinks later and he’s already down for the count. “I can usually eat more than this, what is wrong with me?”

“You ate it like a homeless man, Channie,” Yixing chuckles, crumpling up his second burger wrapper. “Usually when you eat really fast, you fill up easier.”

“It just tasted so good,” the younger whines, a large hand landing on his protruding stomach. “I need a bigger stomach because those chicken nuggets are calling for me!”

“Didn’t your manager just tell you that you needed to eat less? You’re going to gain so much weight pigging out like this, and the last thing you need is to be dropped by this company.”

“Yixing, I accidentally told them about my late night snacking! Do you think they’ll start locking the fridge? What about my puddings, they can’t take away my puddings!” Chanyeol is close to shouting now, the whole room hearing about his food tragedy, but the youngster feels the filter on his mouth disappear. “Don’t let them take my puddings, Yixing!”

“Quiet down!” Yixing chuckles, moving his hand to hit Chanyeol’s shoulder lightly. “Everyone is staring at us, quit making a scene.”

“Homeward, my pudding needs me!”

Chanyeol stands quickly from his seat, leaving Yixing to clean their mess, and heads for the car. His thoughts are trained on the stack of chocolate pudding sitting in his fridge and the little snack cakes he keeps in the bottom drawer. He doesn’t want to have to give them up but he knows it’s ridiculous to choose snack cakes over his profession. He runs cold fingers through his messy hair and scoffs loudly as his thoughts keep wandering.

“Stupid Junmyeon,” he mutters out like a kid, lightly kicking the tire with the tip of his shoe. He keeps his anger at bay, knowing how childish he would look throwing a temper tantrum over having to start a diet. His hand comes back down on his stomach, currently bloated from eating way too much and pats it lightly. He still doesn’t see all the fat that Junmyeon was mentioning, not even after three burgers and a truckload full of fries. “Where is all the fat, dammit?” He mutters to himself, moving his hand to poke his thighs lightly.

“Chanyeol,” Yixing’s voice brings him back from his thoughts and he looks up at his friend/driver. “You’re the skinniest guy I know, alright? Don’t worry too much about what Junmyeon says, you know as well as I do that he exaggerates.”

“Yeah, but this has been the first time that he’s said I’m close to the weight limit. Have I honestly been eating a lot?”

“Not any more than you usually eat. Now come on, it’s freezing out and I want to go home!”

~~

The next couple of days keep the young model on his feet. Although his schedule is full of meetings and even a new contract, he can’t keep his mind off of receiving a chef. His imagination has him picturing a middle-aged woman whipping up fruit salads and bringing her children to work with her. Most of those ideas end with the children spilling juice all over his furniture or drooling all over his large collection of figurines. All of these situations end with Chanyeol firing the older lady and having to bleach all the germs off of his things.

Other ideas have him strapped to a chair as small almonds are shoved down his throat, and an old man yelling at him to open his mouth wider. Those ideas send a disgusted shiver down his spine and he prays silently that Junmyeon won’t send him an old man.

“Do you think they’ll come today?” he thinks aloud, opening the fridge to grab his last pudding. He’s made sure to eat the rest of his goodies, even sharing a couple with Yifan just to make sure they don't end up in the trash, and he’s even bought more to stock up in his room.

“Junmyeon hasn’t said anything to me about it. Maybe he’s still searching?” Yixing suggests, taking a seat at the bar. “Or maybe he’s trying to find a really strict chef and he hasn’t succeeded yet.”

Chanyeol groans at the thought. His mouth curves down and he pushes a spoon of chocolate pudding past pouty lips. He wants to argue with Junmyeon and the stupid company doctor that he’s not a child and they should trust him to take the weight off himself. Or maybe at least persuade them not to do something as crazy as hiring a personal chef.

“Stop worrying,” Yixing comments after a while. “I’m sure whomever they pick will be tolerable enough and trained well enough not to underfeed you.”

“I’m just tired of not being able to control my own life. I understand that I signed a contract and blah blah blah, but I happen to be a human being. Not only am I a human being, but I’m also going to be 26 in a couple months. I just wish that Junmyeon would start treating me that way,” Chanyeol huffs out, his bottom lip still jutting out subconsciously.

“Chanyeol, you’re eating pudding and you want them to treat you like an adult?” the elder chuckles, raising from his seat and walking over to the coffee pot. It was still early morning for the two and Yixing always drank his fair share of coffee in the mornings. “I mean, at least someone else will be starting the coffee pot in the mornings.”

“If they even let me have coffee.”

“Stop complaining and get ready to go. You have a photoshoot in about an hour and if you’re still scowling when we arrive Junmyeon will have my ass.”

Chanyeol listens, for once, and stomps up a flight of stairs to get dressed for the day. Today is just some small teaser photos for another photoshoot that is happening in about a month’s time. A magazine called “Full Color” had finally signed him after months of negotiating and if it weren’t for this stupid cook weighing down his mood he’d be ecstatic right now. This magazine is the biggest thing that has ever happened to the model, and it is ever the more reason to get this weight off and quickly.

He dresses casually and grabs his phone off of the night stand before heading down to the garage. Yixing is always punctual so the younger knows he'll be waiting in the car already. Thanks to the driver's punctuality Chanyeol hasn't ever been late for anything. You could say that Yixing is the model’s parental figure, even though there's only one year between them, and he's always pushing him to be on time.

“Junmyeon says he texted you and he's waiting for a reply,” the elder comments as soon as Chanyeol enters the passenger seat. The younger doesn't even wait a second before he's taking the phone from the back pocket of his skinny jeans and checking his messages.

Manager - we will be meeting your chef after the photoshoot for lunch. Yixing already has the address.

“Why does he say he's waiting for a response like I have a choice in the matter,” he mutters before turning the screen off. He tries to play it cool, like all of his insides haven't just started buzzing with nervousness, and leans his head against the cool glass beside him. “Hope you weren't planning on having a filling lunch.”

“Maybe he'll be nice,” Yixing pushes, backing them out of the garage. “Give him a proper chance, Chanyeol, please don't treat him badly just because you don't want to be healthy.”

“The chef is a guy?” Chanyeol's interest piques slightly.

“Yes, he is. Junmyeon sent me over his file this morning but asked that I didn't show you, I guess he wants you to be surprised.”

“You should've showed me anyways, asshat,” Chanyeol mutters before closing his eyes. “How old is he?”

“It's a surprise,” Yixing chuckles lightly, causing the younger to groan loudly.

“I thought we were friends!”

“We are, but Junmyeon signs my paychecks.”

“Traitor,” Chanyeol mutters, crossing his arms across his chest to try and get more comfortable. Since he's so tall, it's always been difficult for him to get comfortable in small cars like this. Sometimes he wishes that Yixing would just get a large van or something, anything with a little more leg room, but he likes the small quarters they drive in now. The small size of the car is better for having conversations.

The hair all over his body is standing on edge thinking about this chef. He wonders if he'll be tall enough to reach the top cabinet or if he'll be attractive at all. Chanyeol thinks about whether he'll be 25 or 65 and the contrasting thoughts have him smiling lightly. Maybe he'll have a lifetime of experience serving people healthy foods, just a regular middle-aged man who has dedicated himself to the job. Or maybe he'll be younger, just starting out and wanting to showcase his talents for a great company.

“Is he cute?” Chanyeol finally mutters, curiosity getting the best of him.

“I guess you'll find out yourself, won't you?” Yixing counters back, sticking his ground. He's always been stubborn when it came to orders from Junmyeon. Sure, Junmyeon signs his paycheck at the end of each week, but the manager would never fire him. Not after three years of such loyal service.

“I stick to my word, Chanyeol, and he made me promise.” Yixing had said this to him the first year they were together and the quote stands true to this day.

Chapter Text

Chanyeol’s body moves as fast as possible once the shoot is done. Usually he’s slow when leaving the set of a shoot, wanting to properly remove his makeup and eat some of the snacks they have laid out, but not today when he’s spent his whole time thinking about the new chef. He kind of feels silly for being so excited, especially since the man could be 65 years old, but deep down he feels like everything is about to change. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach as he grabs a couple makeup wipes and makes his way to the car. Yixing is of course already in the driver’s seat when he gets there, one of the wipes working vigorously against his eyelid.

“What’s the rush?” Yixing chuckles when the younger plops down in the passenger seat. Chanyeol wants to roll his eyes at his driver, since the elder obviously knows why he’s so anxious to get out of here, but instead he keeps rubbing his skin to get the makeup off of his face.

“Put the car in drive and let’s go, you know exactly why I’m rushing and I’m not going to dignify you with an answer.”

Yixing backs the car out of the parking space and the younger lets out a little sigh of relief when they’re finally on their way. Although Chanyeol doesn’t know any of the details, Yixing did let slip that they’d be meeting at a little coffee house that had some really amazing pastries. Might as well consume some sweet junk before my eating life is over, he thinks as he moves to the next eye.

“They used a lot of makeup today huh?” Yixing asks, eyes flickering down to the dirty, discarded wipe laying on the middle console. Chanyeol ignores him this time, his mind working too fast for him to have time to give his friend any sort of answer.

Both legs bounce up and down as they continue on their way and Yixing has to bite his tongue before he yells at the other to simply: calm the fuck down. He doesn’t, of course, and instead tries to focus on the road ahead of him. Chanyeol on the other hand is oblivious to his friend’s frustration and continues bouncing his legs as his eyes glaze over with thought. Honestly he’s never thought this much about someone before in his life, not even when Junmyeon told him that he’d be hiring Yixing, and although his eating habits will be destroyed, he’s kind of warming up to the idea of another person moving in.

It’s simply because I won’t have to wake up and turn on the coffee pot, he reassures himself as he discards yet another makeup wipe, this time on the floorboard. It’s not that Junmyeon is right or anything, I’m just tired of getting up early to put the coffee on.

He knows for a fact everything that he’s thinking to himself is a complete lie but it’s better than admitting defeat to his manager. That’s why when they arrive at the coffee shop he’s going to hide his excitement and try his best to seem unfazed by the whole situation. If he lets Junmyeon think even for a second that he’s starting to warm up to the idea then his manager will use it against him forever.

“He’s 25, by the way, but he’s still a year younger than you,” Yixing finally lets out and Chanyeol’s head snaps to look at him so fast it leaves his brain rolling around in his skull. The driver has a faint ghost of a smirk on his lips, but other than that his facial expression stays stoic and he keeps his playful eyes trained on the road.

“Excuse me?” Chanyeol blurts out, pivoting slightly in his seat so he could properly face Yixing. “A year younger?” he pushes still, one of his hands coming up to grip tightly onto the driver’s forearm. Chanyeol starts shaking the elder, a string of questions falling from his lips and using a whining tone that he knew would get Yixing to break eventually.

“Listen!” Yixing finally yells, snatching his arm away from the younger’s grasp. “We’re literally five minutes away, calm down!”

“Yixing!” Chanyeol continues to whine, pouting hit bottom lip out a little bit. “I don’t like being blindsided, so please tell me!”

“Chanyeol,” the elder warns, his annoyance suddenly becoming clear. “You have four more minutes of suffering and then you’ll meet the mysterious man moving in, alright? Just, shut up, okay?”

A loud huff escapes the younger’s pouty lips and he falls back into his seat. Four minutes doesn’t seem like a long time in theory, but for Chanyeol it felt like an hour. The waiting game for him was torture, especially when they hit every red light on the way. His words turn aggressive and his frustration is soon taken out on every car passing them. He doesn’t mean for the harsh profanities to fall from his soft lips, but after being shut down by his self-proclaimed “best friend” he's a little on edge.

“Deep breaths, Channie,” the elder chuckles as Chanyeol continues. “He's not going to disappear before we get there, I promise.”

“COULD YOU MOVE ANY FUCKING SLOWER?” he suddenly yells at the car in front of them that keeps pressing their breaks. Chanyeol doesn't exactly care for being jerked around like a rag doll and he knows that in a matter of seconds he's really going to blow his cool. “I hate traffic.”

“And this is the exact reason you need a driver.”

“Shut up, Yixing.”

“Look, all I have to do is turn in right there and you can run into the coffee shop with open arms, alright?”

“Your sarcasm isn't amusing me, you know traffic makes me anxious,” Chanyeol huffs, defiantly crossing his arms over his chest. His heartbeat is booming in his ears and he has to close his eyes in order to calm down. Yixing is right, the reason he needs a driver is because he gets so worked behind the wheel and can't control his temper. This flaw has led to many complaints from the police and also a lot of health problems.

“Are you okay? Should I take you home instead?” Yixing’s concerned voice causes the younger to open his eyes. He notices they're parked and a small smile stretches across his face.

“No, let's just go instead. If I start feeling weird then I'll tell you, I promise.”

After a couple more minutes of Yixing drilling the other about his heart rate, asking if there was a pressure on his chest, and if his head felt okay, they finally head inside. The annoying drum of his heartbeat returns in his ears right along with the gentle ring of his everlasting nerves. He plays it off though, knowing that one sour move will have Yixing ushering him back to the car and mean even more waiting on his end.

“Chanyeol, Yixing! Over here!”

“Ah, Junmyeon!”

Chanyeol is so lost in his own mind that Yixing has to grab his wrist and pull him to the table. The younger can feel all his thoughts rushing at him all at once and he concentrates on looking as unfazed as possible. He forces his eyes to look blank and hopes the nerves he feels aren't dancing in his irises.

“Nice of you to make it, how was your photoshoot?”

“Huh?” Chanyeol asks swiftly, eyes moving to connect with his manager’s. Junmyeon has a smirk plastered on his face and it takes every atom in the younger's body not to glance over at the boy sitting at the table. “Sorry, I didn't sleep well.”

“I can definitely tell. Those bags look like they were painted on,” Junmyeon laughs before motioning towards the other side of the booth. “Sit down, let Yixing order your coffee.”

Chanyeol obeys without a second thought, easily sliding into the other side of the booth. He forces his mind to concentrate on the thin padding beneath him instead of the stranger's face. He's not sure how much longer he can keep up this facade but he's going to try for as long as possible.

“Did the staff treat you well?”

“Y-yeah.”

He eyes trace the pattern on the table and begs his heartbeat to kindly shut the fuck up before the whole table hears.

“Oh!” Junmyeon suddenly blurts out, his hand coming down so harshly on the table that Chanyeol jumps. “I almost forgot, this is Kyungsoo!”

Timidly Chanyeol raises his gaze up to meet with the younger boy’s.

Holy fuck-

“Sir.”

The word falls so easily off the younger's plump lips and he bows his head slightly. When their eyes connect Chanyeol's mouth dries out and his whole personality switches to autopilot. A smile dripping with charm forms on his face and he reaches a hand out for the other to shake.

“I'm Chanyeol, it's nice to meet you.”

Kyungsoo skeptically looks down at Chanyeol's outstretched hand, warm brown orbs wide with surprise, before cautiously slipping his hand into the shake. The younger gives one swift tug before retracting his hand back under the table.

“So, you're the one who's going to be ruining my everyday meal plan and shoving lettuce down my throat?”

Kyungsoo's eyes suddenly glaze over with an unreadable emotion and he crosses his arms over his chest. Chanyeol's insides scatter and his brain begins to panic. He was only trying to break the ice and ended up offending him. Fuck.

“My job is to make you healthier so you can lose weight and keep your job. I'm sorry if that's burdensome for you, but luckily you don't sign my paychecks and even though I'll be living with you, you aren't my boss.” The clipped tone surrounding his soft voice streams into Chanyeol's ears like a sour note and the elder physically flinches.

“I like him, he's feisty,” Yixing comments, setting down two coffees. Chanyeol's ears start heating up and the embarrassment travels down to his cheeks and neck. He wraps his shaking hands around the steaming mug and brings it slowly to his lips, hoping that his shame isn't too obvious.

“I needed to find someone who Chanyeol wouldn't be able to charm. Who would've known that the company doctor had such an amazing nephew?” Junmyeon chuckles, proudly clapping a hand onto Kyungsoo's shoulder. “He may be young, but he's so smart that he aced his advanced nutrition classes. I'm surprised he wasn't scouted by a huge company!”

“I prefer private jobs, sir, less people that way.” The huge smile that the young nutritionist momentarily displays causes Chanyeol's heart to drop and he chokes on his coffee.

“Treat him well, he's not cheap.”

“No problem, I've already had his room setup with everything you requested. I ordered all the new kitchen supplies as well, they should come in tomorrow afternoon while we're at another company meeting. Is there anything else you need?” Yixing blabbers, sharing a warm smile. He's always been so good with new company and Chanyeol could never understand how the trait came too easily to him.

“No, but Junmyeon said to come to you with anything else I might need. Will my room be by the kitchen?” Kyungsoo questions softly, a small bit of enthusiasm leaking into his stoic voice. Chanyeol notices warmth spreading into his smile as he looks at Yixing and knows instantly that he's blown his first impression.

“Yes, I moved my office upstairs so that room is all yours. If it isn't big enough we have another guest room upstairs.”

“I'm sure everything is perfect, thank you.” He bows his head again.

“What's wrong, Chanyeol?” Junmyeon suddenly asks and the younger wishes that the pleather beneath him would just swallow him whole.

“He got a little too worked up on the way here. He was angry I wouldn't disclose anything about Kyungsoo and took out his frustration on the cars around him. I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel.”

Yixing’s voice isn't playful like one's would be when talking about such a silly thing, his tone turns business and Junmyeon nods. Chanyeol's health always comes first, even if little things such as this work him up. All it takes is a little too much stress and his body breaks out.

“Could we not discuss this right now?” Chanyeol pleads, his eyes looking up briefly to gauge Kyungsoo’s reaction.

“Start keeping his medication in the glove department and sit him the back seat,” Junmyeon states simply and the younger groans.

“Panic attacks?” The youngest inquires without missing a beat, his eyes turning to look at Junmyeon.

“Not anymore, now it's mostly rashes. They pop up on his chest, neck, back, and sometimes his face. We try to keep him away from stress-related situations so he can continue working without the rashes ruining his image.”

The details of his condition are shared so easily with this stranger and Chanyeol feels helpless. He can't exactly tell his manager to shut up, but he surely didn't want this cute ass guy to know that he gets rashes from the smallest amounts of stress.

“Yixing, take me home,” Chanyeol says instead, pushing his untouched coffee into the middle of the table. All eyes turn to him but at this point he doesn't care, he just wants to go home and lay down.

“Please take Kyungsoo with you. His belongings have already been moved into the house and he's agreed to move in tonight. Yixing, dear, please make sure that he continues to feel comfortable in the house.”

“Yes sir.”

Yixing bows his head before standing from the booth, waiting patiently for Chanyeol to get up.

Well, Chanyeol thinks bitterly, this should be fucking fun.

~

The ride home is quiet. Chanyeol is exiled to the back seat, just as Junmyeon had suggested, and Kyungsoo plays on his phone the whole way. The clacking of the chef’s keyboard is the only sound in the car and Chanyeol uses this silence to try and think of an apology. He feels awful for getting off on the wrong foot with the younger male, especially since Kyungsoo will be preparing all of his meals from now on.

What am I supposed to say? He thinks frantically, anxiously tapping his fingers against his thighs. He wills his mind to spit out the right answer or better yet a whole prewritten apology for him to use. I guess I don’t need to be on the bad side of the man who will be feeding me, but it was only a joke in the first place.

Chanyeol is the first to exit the car when they arrive at the two story house. The suffocating air that was clogging the car leaving his system as he wanders farther into his home. The maid had left hours ago, the smell of lemons proving this, and his shoes echo throughout the empty house.

Of course the first thing he does is go to the kitchen. Instinctively his feet carry him there, just like they've done for the past couple of years. It's basically tradition to have a small snack after coming home from work and he doesn't plan on ending it today.

“What the fuck is that,” he suddenly mutters as he enters the kitchen. A new fridge catches his eye and panic courses through him as he sees the large electric screen on the door. “No! No, no, no!”

His large hands wrap around the handles, willing the doors to burst open, but instead the screen asks him for a passcode. His heart plummets straight into his empty stomach and his jaw slacks in disbelief.

“Fancy, huh?” Kyungsoo’s voice kills the air and the elder has to clench his fists in order to hold in his anger. Chanyeol takes a step back from the devilish device and throws a nasty glare in the younger's direction.

“This is ridiculous! I can't even get into the damn fridge?” Chanyeol's voice raises slightly but the younger only smirks.

“There's only one way to keep someone out of a fridge and I thought chains would look a little tacky.”

Fucking cocky.

“I know this may seem funny to you, but I didn't have time to eat lunch and I would greatly appreciate it if you would open the doors,” he requests in the most respectful voice he could muster, his jaw clenched the whole time.

“There's no need to get angry,” Kyungsoo laughs lightly, moving closer to Chanyeol. “I'll feed you at the scheduled times, this will show you not to skip meals.”

Chanyeol finally looks over at Yixing who has been hovering in the doorway the whole time, a nice little smirk resting on his face. The elder has already taken off his work blazer, the sleeves of his white button up already rolled to his elbows, and the top couple of buttons were undone. He looks so unphased by all of this and that's when it hits Chanyeol.

“You!” he hollers loudly, pointing an accusing finger in his friend's direction. “You knew the whole damn time, didn't you?”

“Of course, I know everything.”

“Yixing, you're the literal worst,” the younger finally mumbles, knowing that he's way too outnumbered to fight against this thing. Angry eyes travel around the room once again, noticing how many boxes lay on the floor and he immediately knows they're more supplies for the new kid. He's suddenly not so excited for this stranger to be staying with him. His bottom lip protrudes subconsciously, knowing that for now this fight is over, and he drags his feet all the way to the stairs.

Defeat and complete and utter annulation. Junmyeon has conquered Chanyeol's small world and vanquished any power he once had. The young model had been overthrown in his own house and shame courses through his veins, but so does pride.

His pride won't let him lose this war and neither will his vacant stomach. He will win this even if it means losing everything, because nothing is as bad as being treated like an unwanted nuisance in your own home.

Chapter Text

The next morning it isn’t the usual chiming of bells that has Chanyeol waking up. Instead it’s the insistent rumbling of his empty stomach that has him crawling out of his bed before the sun had even risen, the huge vacancy making him forget to put on a shirt before going downstairs in just a pair of black briefs. Bare feet beat against the wooden stairs, not caring who he wakes up with his little adventure. It’s his home, filled with strangers who get paid to be here, and he feels as though he’s entitled to do as he wishes.

When he finally makes it to the kitchen, turning on the brightest light, his eyes narrow on the large, electronic screen built into the fridge door. It’s taunting him, the large numbers begging for a passcode he doesn’t have. His empty stomach has his emotions in a whirl and he has to push down the feeling to snarl at the machine. He has to remind himself that the machine isn’t the problem. Refrigerators take care of his food, in a way, making sure it's at the correct temperature until he has the time to eat. The man with the passcode is the problem .

Maybe it’s just like a phone, he thinks as he inches closer, and if I put in the wrong password enough it’ll lockdown.

So, that’s exactly what he does: his fingers punch in any random combination he can think up. It takes about five minutes of doing this until the screen finally turns red, a small message popping up.

‘Mr. Park, please stop touching the fridge.’

Chanyeol’s eyes widen in shock and he stumbles away from the machine, his mouth opens to say something, anything at this point, but all that tumbles past his soft lips are harsh breaths. Wild eyes look around the kitchen and his frantic heart only beats faster when he sees no one around.

“Is there a camera on this damn thing?” He mumbles, taking a cautious step forward. He inspects the whole device, hands gliding over every inch of the metal exterior and when he finds no evidence of a camera, he goes right back to punching in numbers, willing the doors to open. “Just one bite of something, please!”

“You know, you look really funny pleading to a refrigerator.”

Kyungsoo’s voice slices through the silence and Chanyeol freezes instantly, pointer finger poised mid-air. The pounding of his heart returns to his ears and he urges a charming smile to appear on his face; he is unsure if charm will work this time but it's definitely worth a try.

“I’m hungry,” he says bluntly, his lovely smile willing Kyungsoo’s harsh exterior to evaporate. Chanyeol expects the chef to be gawking at him at this point. His pale skin stretches over taut muscle, the curves and ridges perfectly sculpted from months of working out endlessly, and his dashing smile usually seals the deal. Not this time though, not with Do Kyungsoo.

“What would you like me to do about that?”

He doesn’t even look down at the model’s naked upper body, he would never give Chanyeol that kind of satisfaction. Instead, his irritated gaze pierces into the elder’s eyes, looking as bored as he possibly could while standing in the entryway of the kitchen. His small, tan arms cross over the white tee he’s wearing as he slowly makes his way towards the small table on the far side of the kitchen. His body is still infected with sleep and although his actions are sluggish, his annoyance towards the elder doesn’t falter.

“Open the fridge obviously,” Chanyeol insists, throwing his thumb over his shoulder towards the machine.

“Mr. Park, it isn’t my job to cook for you whenever you ask. I put you on a very strict schedule and it isn’t even close to the time you’re supposed to eat. So please, for the love of God, stop touching the fridge and let me sleep,” he pleads lightly. An abundant amount of annoyance radiates from his small body like a heater and he can’t think of anything better than just going back to his actual home. His mother was so excited when he landed this job, he was too, but right at this moment he’s never regretted anything more.

“What,” Chanyeol begins, chuckling lightly, “is the sound of my failure so deafening that you can hear it all the way in your room?”

“No,” the younger deadpans, leaning back in the wooden chair. “Every time someone punches in the wrong passcode it sends me an alert.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widen with amusement and he has to catch his bottom lip between his teeth to keep himself from laughing at the younger. Kyungsoo’s phone has been going off for the last ten minutes because Chanyeol kept touching the fridge. He wants to smack himself when a small chuckle falls from his lips, but after the minor slip his body erupts into a mess of laughter.

“Mr. Park, it's 5 am. I know this situation isn't ideal, but could you maybe let it go for now? I'll wake up at 8 and start cooking for you.”

“Wait,” Chanyeol laughs, bare feet bringing him closer to the fridge. His long fingers try yet another combination and as the screen flashes to announce his failure, a loud ring sounds from Kyungsoo's pocket. The plaid pants pool around his ankles, way too long for his short legs, but the simple white tee clings to his skin. If the model wasn't so distracted by the idea of a snack, he probably would've noticed the younger's attire sooner. “So that bell has been going off for the last ten minutes, you poor soul!”

Kyungsoo just sighs and digs into his pocket for his phone. He turns off the annoying alarm and brings his emotionless eyes up to meet Chanyeol's. “It's supposed to help me know when you're trying to get into the fridge. Please don't be childish and use it to your advantage.”

“How come you knew it was me? I'm not the only person living here.”

“Oh, you mean Yixing? He knows the password. You're the one on the diet, not him.”

“Excuse me?” Chanyeol demands, walking closer to the island. “So you're telling me that I'm the only person in the house that doesn't have the password to the damn fridge?”

“Don't get your silky panties in a wad, Mr. Park. Junmyeon gave Yixing the password, not me.”

“C'mon kid, just open the fridge for me, huh? It's hard to go cold turkey on my eating habits. Just a small snack, please. My stomach is crying!” Chanyeol walks closer to the drowsy chef, lips already forming his heartwrenching pout. “Open the fridge for your hyung.”

“You're not my hyung,” Kyungsoo groans loudly, running his hand over his face. No matter how much he rubs his eyes or pinches the bridge of his nose, the annoyance won't subside. There’s just something about Chanyeol that irritates the living daylights out of him. “You're a burden, one that I don't have to put up with this early in the morning.”

With that, the young chef exits the kitchen and walks back into his room with his eyes half open. He doesn't even bother looking over at Chanyeol, who is still pouting like a puppy and slowly batting his eyelashes. 5 am is definitely too early to be dealing with Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo doesn't plan on repeating this little scene again. He doesn’t get paid enough for this.

“Well,” Chanyeol sighs, turning around to face the fridge. His aura quickly changes to one tinted with sadness and defeat, and he can’t help the slight pout his lips form as his stomach rumbles again. “I guess this battle isn’t going to be an easy one.”

Heavy feet carry him up one flight of stairs and down a dark hallway, right back to his large bedroom. His room is always clean, Jaehwa does an amazing job picking up the place, but this morning the scenery vaguely resembles a war zone. Clean clothes are scattered across the carpeted area, the drawers of his dresser pulled out halfway and almost empty, and the inside of his closet is even worse. His pale cheeks turn bright pink as he looks around the room and he sheepishly starts picking up the clothes. He’d rather pick up after his own tantrums than have Jaehwa do it.

Small snippets from last night flash before his eyes and he frowns deeply. He remembers Yixing busting down the door with a glass of water and his medicine; his embarrassment only multiplying. He didn’t mean to freak out, but he wanted control. Just the thought of not controlling such large parts of his life had his vision flashing red and his hands throwing anything in sight.

“I’m almost 26 and I’m not even allowed to decide what food I eat or when I eat it. It seems that simple, everyday decisions are always being taken away from me like they’re privileges. I haven’t had someone tell me where I’m allowed to go, who I’m allowed to be seen with, and what to eat since I lived with my mother. I thought moving out meant independence, but I guess I was wrong.” He chuckles sadly as the words tumble from his lips.

The hungry model spends the next two hours cleaning up his mess. Rolling over all of the overturned furniture is harder than he anticipated and he makes a mental note not to make such a mess next time. He begins picking the dresser up off of its side and notices a thick clump of cotton on the ground, and he groans as he leans over to take a closer look. He unravels the red fabric and smiles fondly as he realizes it’s his favorite hoodie, one that he had lost the last time he trashed his room. The front reads “Supreme”, while the back says “the plot that never was.”

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” he chuckles lightly, bringing the hoodie over his head. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

There’s really nothing special about the hoodie per say, other than the fact that it’s his favorite color. But for some reason, finding it makes him feel like maybe everything will be okay. It’s a weird revelation to have while looking at a dumb piece of clothing, but the color itself has always calmed his thoughts and being enveloped in the warm cloth only intensifies the feeling.

“This is for my future,” he finally mumbles to himself, lazily shoving his hands into the front pocket. “I’ll do anything for my dream, even if it means eating rabbit food and being locked out of the fridge in my own home. Nothing is worse than me losing this job and failing the ones around me.”

The model continues cleaning. Except this time, hunger isn’t at the forefront of his mind, chomping away at his patience like an animal and a small little smile grows on his face. He pushes the dresser back into place and continues picking up things here and there until he decides the room is clean enough. It’s not perfect, no one cleans as well as Jaehwa, but it’ll do for now.

Knock. Knock.

“Chanyeol, are you awake?”

“Yes,” he calls back, recognizing Yixing’s voice instantly. “Just come in.”

The door swings open and in walks the driver wearing a beige sweater with a low V-cut, allowing some of his chest to be displayed. Yixing doesn’t usually dress this way, with skin showing and hair combed back to perfection, and that’s when Chanyeol knows he’s going to have to get ready himself.

“No!” the model instantly hollers, shaking his head fervently and waving his hands violently in front of his torso. “Wherever it is we have to go, I’m not going. Not until that stubborn chef down there makes me some food.”

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to go anywhere today. I just came upstairs to make sure that you didn’t want to go anywhere because I’m taking the car,” Yixing confesses sheepishly, a light blush already dusting his cheeks.

“Oh?” Chanyeol smirks, walking closer to make sure the pink painting his friend’s cheeks wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. “Where are you headed?”

“Um,” he pauses to clear his throat, “Junmyeon-- I mean Manager Kim asked me to meet him for breakfast to discuss your schedule for next month.”

“Junmyeon, huh? You guys are on a first name basis?” the model teases, reaching up to pinch the elder’s cheeks. “What’s after breakfast? A romantic walk in the park, or maybe even that movie you’ve been wanting to see?”

“Stop it,” the elder groans and pushes Chanyeol's hands away from his cheeks. “Stop teasing me, Channie, you know that he’s my boss.”

“For now,” the model shrugs, “but you guys see each other way too often for it to be just a business thing.”

“Whatever. Just get some pants on and make Kyungsoo feel welcome while I'm gone.” He turns on one heel and begins to exit.

“Wait!” Chanyeol calls out. Yixing looks back over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised, but the younger can't bring himself to let the words pass his lips. If humiliation were a person, he'd be wrapping his slimy fingers around Chanyeol’s pale neck, restricting the words just like a snake restricts air. Humiliation knows better than anyone that talking about what he did last night wouldn't fix anything, and in its own twisted way, humiliation is trying to save Chanyeol from making a fool of himself once again.

“What is it?” Yixing probes lightly, noticing the weird emotions swarming Chanyeol's eyes. “Go ahead, ask me. It's okay.”

Panic. That’s what he feels next and his heart rate increases as Yixing continues staring at him like he’s some sort of science fair project. The driver’s bright eyes are trying to dissect him like a frog in biology class and that’s when Chanyeol breaks the eye contact. He hates when Yixing does that, when he uses his eyes as a weapon to enter Chanyeol’s thoughts. Nothing is worse than feeling completely splayed out and vulnerable in front of another person.

“You’re too easy to read,” Yixing laughs lightly, walking closer to his friend. He plants both hands on Chanyeol’s shoulders, prompting the younger to look up at him. “Chanyeol, stop worrying over things, alright? If you’re worried about last night then there really isn’t any reason to be. Kyungsoo didn’t hear a thing and even if he did, it wouldn’t fucking matter. Who cares if you had an emotional breakdown, it happens to all of us, and I’m more than sure that Kyungsoo has had his fair share.”

“I just feel...trapped.”

Yixing smiles sadly at that, cupping Chanyeol’s face gently.

“Just take a deep breath and forget whatever happened in here last night. Everything will work out on its own.”

“Okay, thanks Xing.”

With that, the driver leaves the room, on his way to his little meeting with Junmyeon. Chanyeol smiles just at the mere thought of the two sitting together in some restaurant. He can imagine them sitting across from each other, a small round table between them, and awkward smiles being passed back and forth like condiments. Junmyeon would talk the whole time, only allotting the younger short amounts of time to respond, because he's a chatterbox when he's nervous. But, in the end, Yixing wouldn't mind.

Without another thought, Chanyeol has his phone in hand and he's calling Junmyeon.

“Don't call me to beg about the fridge, please. I was having a really nice morning-”

“He really wants to see that new movie playing in theatres. I forgot what it's called but it's about some stupid clown. He's been wanting to see it for a while, so you should take him there.” Chanyeol's suggestion rolls off of his tongue before he can stop himself and the line stays silent. “I don't know what you're doing, or what you have planned, but at least take his ass to the movies.”

“That's very unprofession-”

“Take. Him. To. The. Movies. Junmyeon.” The model easily cuts off his manager, making each word harshly sound like its own sentence. “Now, I'll be going to take a nap. Have a good rest of your morning.”

With that Chanyeol hangs up, a small smirk on his face. He has known all along that Junmyeon couldn't resist Yixing's subtle charm and it was only a matter of time before the elder slowly made his move. He's seen firsthand the way they work together, all awkward smiles and stiff words, just like two high school lovers unsure of who's supposed to do to what.

The model climbs into his bed before he can think too much about it. He's spent too many restless nights worrying over those two, and he kind of feels like a child of a divorced parent forcing his dad to date again.

~~

“Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol groans loudly, blind hands searching for his thick blanket, and he pulls the material over his head. After Yixing had left earlier, he had decided to go back to sleep, forgetting about how hungry he actually was. He was still only in his hoodie and boxers, and if leaving his room meant getting dressed, then he didn’t plan on doing so.

“Mr. Park, it’s time to get up.”

“I don’t care,” he whines loudly, pouting even though the chef at the door couldn’t see him.

“I made your lunch, get up.” Kyungsoo sounds annoyed, and he has every right to be. It wasn’t his job to basically babysit this grown man. He is a chef, not a mother, and his priorities should lie among the vegetables in the fridge. Not at the door of some model who can’t be bothered to take care of his body long enough to keep his job.

“Food?!” Chanyeol almost shouts. He sits up at lightning speed, his eyes connecting with the young chef’s. “There’s food and I’m allowed to eat it?”

“Stop being dramatic and come downstairs.”

The frustrated chef slams the door, leaving Chanyeol wide-eyed and hungry. The model shuffles from under his warm sheets and ignores the cold air assaulting his legs as he moves through the room. He ultimately decides to skip the part of the morning where he actually puts on pants and basically runs to the kitchen in just his boxers. Kyungsoo doesn’t look anywhere lower than his face so it shouldn’t really matter whether or not he puts on pants.

“It’s just a salad,” Kyungsoo tells the elder almost as soon as he enters the kitchen. The young chef already has a place set up at the table, only filled with a small bowl. Inside of the bowl, just as Kyungsoo had voiced, was a salad.

“I-I…” Chanyeol is seconds away from protesting, from taking the bowl between his fingers and angrily throwing it at the nearest wall. Instead, he closes his eyes and takes in as much air as his lungs can hold. Acting like a brat in front of Kyungsoo isn’t going to do him any good, and deep down, he knows that it would only cause him more anxiety and embarrassment. “Thank you, Kyungsoo, for the food.”

“Um, you’re welcome... I think.”

Kyungsoo watches as Chanyeol sits down at the table and stares wearily at the leaves piled in his bowl. It’s interesting how many moods the model has been through since meeting the young chef, and it doesn’t take the latter long to realize that Chanyeol has no earthly idea on how to act around him. He’s gone from shy: when they met at the cafe, to angry: last night when they arrived at the house, to somehow trying to charm him into opening the fridge, and Kyungsoo doesn’t even know what to call the mood he’s in now.

“May I at least have some dressing?”

“Salad dressing is where most of the-”

Kyungsoo stops talking when Chanyeol turns his head to connect their gazes, and a loud sigh escapes the chef’s lips. He knows for a fact that most calories in a salad come from the ranch you put on top, but he isn’t so sure he can tell that to the worn giant in front of him. Especially not after everything he heard coming from upstairs last night, not after every scream and cry that escaped from under the door and floated down to the living room.

Kyungsoo isn’t scared that Chanyeol will freak out again, Yixing has reassured him endless times that the model wasn’t anything close to violent. It’s just that he can’t bring himself to tell this emotionally-strained man that he can’t have any salad dressing; he doesn’t want to be another crack in Chanyeol’s sanity.

“I talked to Manager Kim and persuaded him that you don’t need diet pills,” Kyungsoo comments randomly as he blocks the password from his elder’s view.

“You don’t need to talk to me, Kyungsoo, I just want the dressing to cover up the awful taste of this lettuce,” Chanyeol sighs. The tip of his fork pushes around the cucumber, tomato, and small pieces of chicken that paint the green leaves with color. There’s nothing he hates more than tomato, even the thought of shoving the nasty substance into his mouth has him almost gagging, but he’s too worn down to say anything.

Kyungsoo just ignores the model’s words, knowing that he doesn’t really mean them. Before moving in, he had Junmyeon and Yixing tell him as much as possible about Chanyeol, and one of the first things they told him was that he loved conversation.

“I won’t be feeding you salads a lot, don’t worry. Lettuce doesn’t have a lot of nutritional val-”

The words die in Kyungsoo’s throat as he stalks closer to the table, the dressing slipping from his fingers and dropping to the tiled floor as the young chef’s eyes widen in shock. He can’t help himself as he steps closer and his hand reaches out to brush against one of the models cheeks, fingers coming in contact with a dark red, rough patch.

“M-Mr. Park, there’s-”

“Don’t... don’t even tell me,” Chanyeol interrupts, controlled breaths leaving his nose at an alarming rate. “Just let me eat this damn rabbit food in peace, alright?”

Kyungsoo nods, his eyes still the size of saucers as he leans down to grab the low-fat ranch. When he moves back to give Chanyeol the dressing, he keeps his eyes cast to the ground, afraid he may start ogling at all of the rashes decorating the model’s skin.

“Should I call Yixing?”

“No. Mind your own damn business and leave me alone, alright?”

Kyungsoo can only bring himself to nod again. His brain is in shambles and he doesn’t know what he can do to help the now rash-infested model. From what he remembers regarding the conversation the day before, Chanyeol’s medicine is in the glove box of Yixing’s vehicle. So, instead of pushing the subject like he knows he should, he grabs his own bowl of salad off of the counter and goes to eat in the living room.

Chapter Text

Anxious brown eyes scan the crowd littering the large cafe, searching for a blinding angel among a sea of unfamiliar faces. His stomach is full of those dumb butterflies that every romance story ever written contains and he wishes they would cease their fluttering long enough to find the person he came here for. An incessant pounding fills his head and he pleads for his nervous heart to give him a chance this time, so that he won't embarrass himself again.

Dark thoughts take the nervous man back to the last time the two had met. He had been just as nervous and the meeting ended five minutes after starting. Junmyeon had stayed seated and reached across the table to shake Yixing’s hand, a formality that grabbed Yixing’s sanity by the throat, and when they retracted hands the driver accidentally knocked over the manager’s coffee. With a strained smile Junmyeon forced a laugh, knowing his favorite shirt was about to stain, and excused himself from the table.

“Yixing, over here!”

The apprehensive male whips his head to the far left and finally connects with the eyes he’s been dying to see for a while now. The man waiting patiently at the table is wearing one of his signature smiles, the one where all of his pearly teeth show and his eyes turn into little crescents. A smile makes it way onto Yixing’s face without much thought and he notices Junmyeon’s eyes move to glance at his dimple.

The driver forces his feet to move towards the table and the butterflies become frantic when Junmyeon stands. The older male is smirking now, his bright eyes looking mischievous as he moves to pull out Yixing’s chair. Yixing on the other hand swears that his heart just skipped a couple of beats and now he’s stupidly looking down at Junmyeon, blinking innocently.

“Sit down,” Junmyeon chuckles, gesturing towards the chair. He doesn’t wait for the younger to take a seat before going back to his own, settling down. The manager connects their eyes and Yixing immediately breaks it, scrambling for his seat like a nervous teen. “I’m glad you could make it, Xing. I already ordered you a coffee.”

“T-Thanks,” the younger stutters helplessly, keeping his eyes trained on the tablecloth. It’s very rare that Junmyeon ever uses the nickname and Yixing forces his cheeks not to turn pink, he can’t blush like a child in front of this man. “Did you ask for-”

“An iced mocha with extra sugar and creamer? Yes, I did.”

Yixing squeezes his eyes shut as the beating in his chest continues to increase, the thumping becoming louder than any other noise in this crowded room. He can’t believe that Junmyeon somehow remembered how he likes his coffee from this place, and the blush he’s been holding back slowly creeps back onto his face. With burning cheeks he looks up at the older male and gives his best smile.

“How was Chanyeol this morning?” Junmyeon questions, switching into business mode. Although the question is a serious one the elder’s smile still stays light and airy, showcasing its beauty like a flower basking under the sun’s rays. That’s when Yixing wonders how someone so beautiful is sitting across from him, offering his smile like a platter from a menu, and allowing the younger to bask in the warmth it brings.

“B-Better, I think. He found that dumb red hoodie again so I think that helped a little.”

The waitress comes back before Junmyeon can comment on the sweater and sets down one coffee. Her bright eyes fall on Junmyeon and she grants him a smile almost as blinding as his own, her perfect teeth and pink cheeks taunt Yixing subconsciously and the younger goes back to staring down at the table cloth.

“Can I get you anything to eat? I recommend the biscuits and gravy, it’s my favorite thing on the menu!” Her high pitched voice echoes through Yixing’s ears like a bad note and he openly flinches, knowing that her eyes are too preoccupied undressing Junmyeon.

“Ah, I don’t like gravy that much. I’ll just have the breakfast wrap please. Without the peppers and onions.”

Her pen glides across the pad of paper and she starts walking away.

“Excuse me, ma’am!”

She turns around immediately, again her eyes land directly on Junmyeon as if Yixing isn’t sitting right there. That sickening smile reappears and she saunters back over, both hands planting on the table so she could lean over and get closer to Junmyeon’s face. The scene in front of Yixing is like the one he’s seen in every bad romance novel over and over again. Her breasts are poking prominently from her tight shirt and she’s batting her eyelashes as if Junmyeon should be ordering her instead of actual food.

“There’s another person sitting at this table,” Junmyeon informs her, his eyes traveling to look at the nervous mess before him. “Not only did you blatantly ignore his existence, you also somehow forgot his coffee. So, if you don’t want me to request to see your manager, I suggest taking his order and making his coffee.”

She’s standing straight in no time, pulling up the top of her shirt and turning to look at Yixing. Those dark, judgemental eyes graze over his features with disgust and he self-consciously pulls the ends of his sweater over his knuckles. Her pen is poised, waiting for Yixing to order, and the only thing he can concentrate on is how the butterflies fluttering away in his stomach transformed into a raging cluster of ravenous moths, chewing away at the mountains of insecurities.

“I-I’m not hungry, Mr. Kim,” he whispers, the noise barely audible above the deafening sound of his heart.

“He’ll have the same thing as me, thank you.”

The younger can feel Junmyeon’s eyes on him as her heels recede into the kitchen with their orders. He doesn’t dare looking up, he knows better than to meet the elder’s eyes in situations like these. Yixing is an open book and Junmyeon is the reader with piercing eyes that sees right through him, and whether the elder is aware of it or not, he holds the driver between his perfect fingers. All Junmyeon has to do is turn a couple of pages and Yixing blindly follows through, his faith so invested that half of the time he doesn’t even think twice about it.

“Xing,” Junmyeon calls out, his hand moving to grasp Yixing's fist. “You seem really tense, did she bother you?”

“Mr. Kim...what're you doing?” Yixing breathes out, moving his hand away from the elder’s. “I don’t...I don’t think that’s very professional.”

Junmyeon ignores the younger, his fingers already reeling Yixing’s hand back into his own. Yixing's whole body is tense and he closes his eyes once more, trying to focus on anything but the sensation radiating from his hand. He isn’t used to Junmyeon being this upfront, they’ve never openly touched each other, and that only twists his sanity even more.

“Do you...want me to stop?” Junmyeon’s soft words hold a level of seriousness that play with the strings of Yixing’s throbbing heart.

How am I supposed to say no to this, Yixing thinks helplessly, how am I ever supposed to say anything when he makes my whole body feel this way?

“I...I want-”

The annoying click of the waitress’s heels cuts Yixing off and he retracts his hand before her judgemental eyes make it to the table. Without a word, she sets the younger’s coffee on the table, bows and then stares at their hands before walking back to the kitchen.

“She definitely saw that,” Yixing mutters, moving his hands under the table.

“Is it a problem that she saw?” Junmyeon probes, his eyes peering straight into the younger’s.

“Y-Yes,” the driver finally stutters, deciding now that he needs to stand his ground. “You can’t just touch me in public however you like, Mr. Kim, it’s not in my contract to-”

The maddening ring of Junmyeon’s phone cuts the younger’s lecture short and Junmyeon just keeps staring, ignoring his phone.

“Continue, Xing, I’m very interested.”

“I came here for a business meeting, not a date, and I would appreciate it if you kept everything professional,” Yixing requests, both hands moving to cup the cold cup before him. He lowers his head to sip from the straw poking out from the light brown liquid and Junmyeon tilts his gaze to get a better view. He watches as the younger’s lips innocently wrap around the straw and he smirks before moving his gaze to his phone.

1 missed call from Kyungsoo.

“I need to take this,” the manager sighs before redialing the chef’s number, pushing the annoying device up against the shell of his ear.

“Mr. Kim! I don’t think Chanyeol’s medicine is working!”

Kyungsoo’s words bounce around the manager’s head like a ball and the elder’s mouth becomes dry with worry. He’s seen firsthand how awful Chanyeol can look and now all he can imagine is the model resembling a leper.

“Explain.”

“I’ve only seen his face and neck but they’re really bright and agitated. He told me not to call you guys but...I figured you should know. I’m sorry if I ruined your date.”

“We’ll be there soon. Don’t worry too much about Chanyeol, he’ll probably just go back to his room and hide there, but I need you to run an oatmeal bath for him. He’s going to fight it, so just go into his bathroom and do it anyways,” the manager explains, sipping on his coffee lightly. “We’ll be over as soon as we’re done eating.”

~~

It wasn’t the sound of his door creaking open that had Chanyeol poking his head from under the thick comforter hiding his large body; nor was it the padding of someone’s feet moving across the wooden floor, but instead the sound of the tub filling with water. Cautiously, he makes a hole for his eyes to peer from, the rest of his body staying safe from whoever had entered.

“W-Who’s in here?”

“Junmyeon wanted me to run you an oatmeal bath. I don’t care if you get in it or not.”

Kyungsoo’s voice scares the elder and he pulls the blanket back up, his eyes closing tightly. He thinks for a second that maybe the cover will work as some kind of invisibility cloak, that it would hide him from the chef’s piercing gaze, and he would be able to endure this meeting. He didn’t want Kyungsoo to see his rashes again, better yet he didn’t want another living, breathing person to see the splotches.

“I’ve already seen them,” Kyungsoo sighs loudly, ripping the blanket from the elder’s body.

So, maybe hoping for an invisibility cloak was a little far, Chanyeol thinks before covering his face with his hands.

“Get out,” the younger mutters like a child. He didn’t care if Kyungsoo had already seen his ugly rashes, the chef definitely didn’t need to see them for a second time.

“As soon as the tub is full enough, I’ll be out of your hair. Believe me, I don’t want to be up here either.”

Chanyeol just sighs, finally uncovering his itchy face. He drags his body up into a sitting position and then pulls his knees up to his chest. When his eyes sweep the room, he finds Kyungsoo leaning against the bathroom door frame, just like this morning in the kitchen, arms crossed across his small chest. Black skinny jeans loosely hug his legs and a light blue sweater stretches across the planes of his torso, and Chanyeol has to admit that he looks damn good.

“I like the sweater,” Chanyeol tries, smiling sweetly at the scowling chef.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Kyungsoo sighs loudly, tugging at the sleeves so that they are pulled over his knuckles. “Oatmeal may be a food but this definitely isn’t in my job description.”

“I...I-”

“Don’t bother, just let me finish this so I can leave.” With that said, the younger goes into the bathroom to check on the water, leaving Chanyeol confused. His plump lips form a small ‘o’ and his eyebrows are scrunched in disbelief.

“I was just trying to compliment you,” the model mumbles, his lips forming that small pout. The one where his bottom lip protrudes only slightly and his upper lip retracts, also known as the one that has successfully snatched the hearts of many people, the one that usually gets him whatever and whoever he wants.

“There,” Kyungsoo announces soon after, exiting the bathroom with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “Hurry and get in before it gets cold. I won’t be doing this again.” With that his socked feet begin retreating to the door, hands awkwardly swinging by his sides.

“Wait,” Chanyeol pathetically calls out, quickly crawling to the end of the bed. He’s aware that he’s still only in his boxers and a hoodie, but if Kyungsoo didn’t oogle at him this morning when he was practically naked then he is sure this wouldn’t be a problem. “Could you...keep me company? I don’t like being alone.”

“What?” Kyungsoo’s voice raises in volume and he swivels back to stare incredulously at the elder. His eyes are holding an emotion close to disgust and it has Chanyeol backing away, hands shoved into the front of his hoodie. “You want me to keep you company?”

“Y-Yeah,” the model stutters, “I thought maybe you also didn’t want to be alone…”

“Being alone downstairs is better than keeping you company, Mr. Park. So, only ask me food-related questions from now on.” After the mean words leave his lips, he makes his way out of the room, lightly slamming the door as he goes. Drawing an oatmeal bath was close enough to crossing the line, but actually keeping Chanyeol company while he bathed would be more than a few steps over that line he drew for comfort.

~~

“Stop worrying about stupid things, Chanyeol! We can only afford these off weeks for so long before some media or news site realizes there’s something wrong. If this information reaches the public it’s going to be extremely hard for you to get another contract and you’ll definitely lose the ones you have now!” Junmyeon scolds harshly, his voice bouncing off the walls of Chanyeol’s living room.

“Give him a break, Mr. Kim. You’re the one who shoved a stranger into his home and then cut off all the control he had,” Yixing argues back boldly. The driver is seated next to the itchy model on one of the couches, Kyungsoo is sitting alone on the loveseat, and the angry manager is standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed.

“Yixing, this has nothing to do with you, don’t defend him,” the manager sighs, not even bothering to look at the driver. Junmyeon is angry about the rashes but he also knows that most of his anger came from their meeting being ruined this morning. He had planned on showing Yixing the best time and now they’re back to dealing with Chanyeol’s health issues.

“They’ll go away,” Chanyeol mutters defiantly, his fingers pulling on the drawstrings of the red hoodie. “A week should be enough time.”

“And what’s the excuse this time? Hmm, Chanyeol? We’ve already used every excuse in the damn book! So, please, tell me what I’m supposed to tell your new magazine or better yet the ones lined up down the street to meet with you?” Junmyeon basically screams, waving his arms around like a madman. The stressed manager could feel the anger boiling in his blood and traveling through his body like a steamy poison, and the more he thinks about all the profit being lost, the angrier he gets.

“Myeonnie,” Yixing calls out, standing from the couch. The use of of such an informal nickname has everyone in the room gaping at the young driver, their eyes widen. “Don’t talk to him like that! He can’t control his rashes and you should be taking responsibility for this outbreak, seeing as it is actually your fault!”

“No, he’s right,” Chanyeol comments bitterly, also standing from the couch so he could look Junmyeon in the eye. “If I wasn’t such a fucking bitch with fried nerves maybe my skin wouldn’t look diseased. Maybe I should try weed, Mr. Kim, how do you think our contracts would like that? At least I wouldn’t be cursed with these fucking spots!”

“Channie, don’t talk like that,” Yixing sighs, putting an arm around the younger’s waist. “Maybe you and Kyungsoo should go into a different room. Maybe show him where the game room is, hmm? Let me talk to Mr. Kim.”

“No, he can’t leave, I’m not done screaming!” Junmyeon argues quickly, stepping closer to the pair.

“I think you are done yelling at him,” Yixing counters. “Leave him alone for something he can’t control.”

“He needs to learn to control it,” Junmyeon sneers, looking up harshly at the driver. “Both of our jobs are on the line if he can’t.”

“Mr. Park,” Kyungsoo calls from the other side of the room, surprising everyone. Despite witnessing what seems to be an intense verbal fight he’s surprisingly calm, his eyes aren’t even shaking with fear, and seeing him like this has everyone else slowly coming back to reality. “Show me to the game room please.”

Chanyeol looks at the other in complete disbelief, his nose scrunching gently as he removes himself from the driver’s grip. He quickly wonders what kind of game the chef is playing but ultimately decides to silence his thoughts until he’s safely escaped the tense scene. His better judgement has him leaving the room immediately, not even turning back to see if Kyungsoo is following him or not, and makes his way to one of the places that always calms him down.

The game room isn’t anything special when it comes to the design department, the couches and bean bags are a little worn from a couple years use and the carpet has stains from drunk nights with his best friends, but it reminded him of all the good times. Games line the shelving on the walls and two gaming systems are plugged up to two different flat screens. It’s safe to say that the only thing that’s been upgraded in the past few years are the large TVs, and maybe a couple of controllers but that’s a different story.

“Well, this is it,” Chanyeol announces, whether to himself or to Kyungsoo, he doesn’t know, and plops down on the only recliner in the whole room. Other than Sehun, Kai, and Yiixing no one else has been up here, even his friends haven’t seen the room in ages, and introducing someone new to the scene feels a little foreign. He isn’t used to having some stranger up here.

“I don’t actually care,” Kyungsoo sighs, his ass settling on a black couch across the room. The chef had chosen the farthest spot away from the model and frankly the elder didn’t blame him, it’s not like they were best buds. “I just knew you shouldn’t be in there for much longer. We wouldn’t want those rashes getting any worse.”

“Oh, right,” Chanyeol sighs, feeling like an idiot. Why would Kyungsoo care about about this room? He doesn’t know all the sentimental meanings attached to every controller that lay broken in the corner, or know the story behind every stain littering the carpet. No, to Kyungsoo this is just a room with a really dirty flooring and worn out couches.

Chanyeol dumbly starts grinning at a large brown stain in the middle of the dingy carpet. This stain is the biggest by far and the story attached to it made the model yearn for the old days, the ones where Sehun and Kai were here almost everyday, back when none of their careers had actually taken off. They all lived here in this house, splitting the rent, and living day by day, check by pitiful check. The memories flashing are enough for the model to pull out his phone and text the groupchat that died long ago.

Chanyeol:
Remember the good old days in the game room? Still trying to figure out how to get that damn stain out.

Bittersweet memories bring back bittersweet feelings and it isn’t long before he’s half laughing and half crying at the stupid stain. He’d do anything to turn back the clock, even if they struggled to pay rent and feed themselves, the young model knew he’d do anything to get away from his nagging manager and back to his best friends. No, best friends didn’t even begin to explain the connection the three held. Brothers is a better term, and deep down Chanyeol knew they’d be brothers for a long time.