The private room was raging loud, conversations and songs booming from every direction. Chanyeol took another shot of alcohol, squeezing his eyes when the drink gave his throat a slight burn. He cursed, putting the shot glass back on the wooden table. With his attention drifting, Chanyeol watched as the others enjoyed themselves, occasionally answering and joining in the talks around him, but for the most part, he kept himself away.

On his left, Jongin, the drummer, toyed with his cellphone, playing the introvert of the entire group. It seemed, however, that even the most anti-social member of the tour was present. Frowning deeply, Chanyeol poured himself another shot.

“Seven months into a tour and he still hasn’t come down to join us?”

Stopping just as the liquid hit the brim, Chanyeol listened in, tempted to turn his head, but he kept himself in place by the fact that he had no desire to be so obvious. He put the bottle down and feigned interest in his drink.

“Stuck up.”

Chanyeol snorted in the midst of a sip. The reference was neither a mistake, nor an assumption too far from the truth, but he found it bitter sweet. Under his breath, he laughed.

“He’s probably upstairs entertaining someone in bed.”

“That might be why he refuses to share a room with any of the other staff members.”

“Doesn’t he pay for his own room?”

“Might feel too guilty using the company’s money for his…private business—”

”Fuck!” Chanyeol slammed his empty shot glass on the table. Aware that he had caused a ruckus, garnering attention, he laughed afterwards, lightening the mood that he had darkened within seconds. “Are you two talking about Byun?”

The two individuals, a man and woman who worked with set up, nodded cautiously.

“He is a real stuck up bitch, isn’t he?” the musician joined. “A real kick in the fucking ass…”

His ear drowned the responses he received. Mindlessly, he gave them a grin and nod, unaware of their words as he stood up and excused himself for a drag somewhere less crowded. As he left the private room, he snagged an unlit cigarette from Kris’ hand, giving no apologies to the manager as he promptly pushed the doorway out of the social space.

-

-

From his balcony, Chanyeol could see the fans who were making camp despite the hotel staff’s constant visits to demand them off the property. Putting the stick to his lips, he took a drag, slowly blowing it out with the night wind. Tired, his pinched the bridge of his nose before dragging his fingers through his dark, messy hair. After a minute, he looked at his watch and frowned. It was getting late—early to be completely truthful. In the back of his mind, he pictured the short runt telling him to sleep.

Going back into his hotel room, Chanyeol locked the balcony doors and put the cigarette out on the provided ash tray. Turning his head, his attention went to his cellphone, practically dead, lying on the table of the living space. He stared at the device for a short while, even pacing back and forth, before damning himself and striding over to take the cellphone.

Baekhyun’s number wasn’t saved under his name. In fact, it had no name, and that was at the ridiculous insistence of the brunette who made it a point that the musician should never contact him until it was truly an emergency. However, the detail slipped from his mind as he hit call, holding the cellphone with a hand as he multitasked, working on taking his shirt off to prepare for a shower.

The phone on the other end rang a few times before he received a response by the time he made it to the bathroom. He made no comment about the groaning he heard, choosing to ignore the fact for the sake of his sanity.

“Hello?”

“It’s Chanyeol.” The call was taken as an annoyance, and Chanyeol knew that as he looked around the bath.

It didn’t bother him at all, or even to a point, that he had made the brunette angry with his late night call. Chanyeol, in the opposite, found it amusing as much as Baekhyun found it terribly rude. Snapping the front of his jeans, he laughed at the grumbling on the other end.

“No kidding. Why’re you calling?”

“Well,” Chanyeol said, glancing at the reflection in the mirror and turning to see the bareness of his back. His image was flawless, at least to him. A lot of work and hours spent at the gym seemed to have done him well in the end and Chanyeol liked appreciating himself. “I need to talk to you about the song queue. I don’t want—”

“Are you serious? It’s one in the morning. This doesn’t constitute as an emergency, Chanyeol! Go to sleep,” Baekhyun muttered, not meaning to groan out the last bit of Chanyeol’s name as he rustled back into his sheets. “And next time, please, please, please call me using my room’s telephone. I gave the number to Kris, so he would’ve given it to you gladly if he wasn’t drunk. I’m going back to sleep. Let’s talk about tour matters tomorrow. Good-night.”

With a serious frown on his face, Chanyeol walked over to the shower, pushing aside the beige curtain and reached to begin the water flow. There was no logical reason for his call. Merely, it was just out of his curiosity to see if the latter was sleeping or entertaining a man or woman as the other staff members joked about lightly. To his unbeknownst relief, Baekhyun had been sleeping—and not with anyone.

“Hold on. Actually, it is an emergency. This is my tour and I know what’s best for it.”

“Mr. Park, if you’re going to take a shower at one in the morning, then do it and let me sleep.”

“You haven’t listened to me yet,” Chanyeol protested, feeling the water’s temperature swing hotter by the second. “I—”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I said we’ll discuss whatever it is that you need, but at breakfast. Is that clear enough for you, Mr. Park?”

“No.”

“Fine. Then we’re keeping the song line up.”

At the sound of a faint beep, Chanyeol knew the call had ended. He looked at the phone with plain judgment and put it on the bathroom counter. Stripping away with the jeans and ridding himself of his briefs. Chanyeol had the wandering thought whether to change the temperature of the water to something cooler before he stepped inside. 

-

-

The morning after, the musician felt slightly hung over. His mood was sour; his body was tired. For a moment, he forgot about the previous night until the cellphone lying on his bed stand reminded him.

It was five in the morning when he rolled out of his bed, eyelids heavy as hell. A knock at his door woke him from his half-slumber. Trudging to the entrance and opened it without checking the peephole. It was a mistake, but one not too awful.

“If I had been on those crazy fans of yours, then possibility of you getting raped just sky rocketed.”

Rolling his eyes at the runt, Chanyeol turned his back, leaving the door open for Baekhyun’s use. “Good morning to you, too, honey,” he yawned.

He could hear the coordinator mumbling to himself as he shut the door. Chanyeol stretched his arms and waited for Baekhyun to catch up at the end of the hall. “What brings you here to my suite, Mr. Byun?”

“To wake you and everyone else up,” Baekhyun replied seemingly annoyed. “This is why I don’t attend those after parties or whatever it is you call them. All of you get dead drunk and it’s just a mess trying to work with you the next day after.”

Snorting, Chanyeol gave him a grin as Baekhyun passed him by. “It’s called living a little.”

“That isn’t living, Chanyeol.” After stopping in his tracks to inspect the suite, Baekhyun whipped his head back around. “What’re you standing there for? Get dressed. Breakfast opens at five-thirty, exclusive for our crew and yourself. I wouldn’t take it for granted unless you want to be mobbed later with the general crowd.”

“It’s too early to be thinking about that.”

“Well, you’re awake now so I suggest you put on a pair of jeans and a shirt and head downstairs. We’re in Ballroom A.” Raising his wrist, Baekhyun clocked in the time. Chanyeol watched him, taking notice of the smaller male’s attempt to keep a professional image. “I have to wake up the rest of the drunks that attended last night. Oh, and if you don’t remember our conversation because, for all I know, you were probably drunk as hell, too, I said we could discuss the song arrangement and that’s fine. Just write down your new lineup and I’ll see if it will work out and get back to you. Is that good? Great. I’ll see you in a few.”

Stiffly, the conversation seemed to halt, and it did. Chanyeol let him pass, saying nothing in objection at the sound of each step being taken. Just as the brunette’s hand laid a touch to the door handle, he stopped.

“You know, I’ve noticed that you haven’t been trying to fuck one of your harem girls in a while.”

Raising a brow at the fact that the strictly professional individual would bring up such a subject, Chanyeol cocked his head. “Didn’t you tell me to stop?”

“I told you to refrain from doing anything stupid that could jeopardize the tour, because that’ll ruin me as well,” Baekhyun quickly clarified. “However…I never said you couldn’t sleep with anyone at all. Just don’t be stupid about it, make sure they’re legal and it’s all consensual.”

Crossing his arms, Chanyeol couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease. “Aren’t you part of my ‘harem’? You are a fan of mine, Baekhyun, and you are very much legal.”

“But I hardly think anything will be consensual, Chanyeol.”

Intrigued, Chanyeol bit his lips for a moment, slowly taking one forward at a time. “Why do you switch on and off between calling me by my name and calling me ‘Mr. Park’? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t call me by my first name?”

“I think that question is irrelevant,” Baekhyun simply said, waving the other off as he opened the door just slightly. “Just to be clear, don’t be stupid with your choices. I don’t want anything leaking out on the internet about you sleeping with a minor.”

“Last time I checked, you’re not a minor, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun’s lips pursed together. A blush rushed to his face as he hissed, “Can you be professional for once?”

“Telling me who I can and can’t sleep with isn’t professional, either, runt.” Chanyeol closed the distance between where he and Baekhyun stood. Then, towering over him, Chanyeol leaned against the edge of the door, looking down on the flustered, pissed off professional perfectionist. “Now, get out of here before I make you my breakfast, Baekhyun… I’ll see you soon enough.”