there are times when kim junmyeon, not suho, is just so exhausted by everything that, on more than one occasion, he finds himself wondering whether choosing this lifestyle was a mistake or not.

it’s already difficult trying to manage his own hectic, public life, let alone the lives of a handful of rambunctious, on the threshold of maturity but not quite there yet,  headstrong young men (boys, really). and it doesn’t really help that 90% of the time, they’re too busy messing around with their own affairs to listen, or sometimes just flat out not paying attention to what he has to say.

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— day 1

“so,” junmyeon smiles as he wraps his arm tightly around jongdae’s shoulder. “does this one meet all of your expectations and specifications princess?”

“hey!” jongdae playfully smacks junmyeon on the chest, eyes still gazing up lovingly at their newly renovated 19th century victorian home.

“well, i’m glad you like it,” junmyeon laughs, placing a soft kiss on top of jongdae’s hair. “would’ve been a bitch trying to find something else like this for the amazing price we got it for.”

“yeah,” jongdae rests his head against junmyeon’s chest, sigh of contentment escaping his lips, as a pair of moving crew struggles to carry a large wooden bed frame around them and into the house. “our perfect dream home.”

“all we need is a bunch of kids and a pet dog,” junmyeon jokes, gently nudging jongdae to the side. “maybe a few cats, a pet chicken. who knows?”

“you’re so dumb,” jongdae rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief, but there is a fondness to his smile that tells junmyeon that the idea isn’t all that offensive to him. maybe they’ll even start with the dog.

“come on,” junmyeon guides jongdae up the steps of the front porch and towards the front door, stepping out of the way as another pair of moving crew haul a box labeled ‘jongdae - fragile! handle with caution!’ into the house.

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there’s just something in the way junmyeon carries himself so prim and proper, white button-up shirt starched and neatly pressed underneath his argyle sweater vest, not a single wrinkle or a hair out of place, that drives kris slowly up a wall and insane with desire to just one time ruffle his feathers, see this impeccable man come a little bit undone under the work of his steady hands.

surreptitiously peeking over the manila folders he was supposed to have passed on to the executive producer probably twenty minutes ago (luhan can wait though, he’s probably too busy shooting his mouth off over the phone trying to hustle some extra funding from their financial backers), kris lingers behind the director’s chair, trying not to ogle as junmyeon leans over a miniature castle set, smiling and talking to a princess hand puppet with careful enunciation, lips moving slowly around the vowels and consonants forming in his mouth.

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chen tries not to let the fear cloud his judgment as suho’s scent begins to fade, clamps his sharp teeth against the panic overwhelming his entire being when the trail disappears altogether.

briefly pausing on a mound of earth risen slightly higher than the rest of the forest floor, chen tips his nose into the air, hopelessly sniffing around for that particular smell that he’s become so in tune to in the past few months, so familiar that the lack of its presence makes it feel like chen has lost his own limb.

the only thing that registers in his keen olfactory senses is the smell of resin, the wet rain-covered earth, the sharp tang of the pine trees looming high into the stormy clouds above.

chen should’ve seen this coming, should’ve kept a closer eye because suho hadn’t been adjusting to pack life very well, especially in the last few weeks, jerking awake in the middle of the night covered in cold sweat and a gurgled screamed caught in his throat.

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kris welcomes the sharp sting of the crisp night air on his heated skin as he makes his way across his penthouse suite balcony, leaning against the cold metal rails as he flicks open his sterling silver zippo and lights the cigarette hanging loosely on his lips.

tossing his lighter to the side and taking a slow, deep drag, kris savors the flavor of the acrid smoke coating the insides of his throat as the toxic chemicals make their way down to his lungs, letting the fumes vaporize a little inside his system before exhaling the remains.

he watches as the faint gray cloud drifts higher and higher into the darkness, blending and absorbing into the pitch black sky until it fades and completely disappears into the starry atmosphere.

the stars are particularly bright tonight. that’s a change.

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