immortaolize fics
these have also been crossposted onto my ao3 if you prefer to read there.
be my lady tonight
EXO, Tao/Chanyeol, PG, ~4.4k
Tao doesn't have a date to Zhou Mi's wedding, but he has the next best thing.
With less than two weeks before Zhou Mi is set to walk down the aisle, Zitao has everything ready. His plane ticket, his best suit back from the dry cleaners and hanging in his closet, the perfect wedding gift wrapped and tied up with a red ribbon.
Even his suitcase has been dragged out of storage--not packed yet, of course, but it's good enough start. He's in the middle of rewarding himself for being on top of things for once, Candy perched neatly in his lap as he slurps a bowl of jjajangmyun, when his phone chimes loud enough to be heard over the drama he's watching. He glances at it on the table, debating whether or not it's worth the effort of moving when he's so comfortable, but then it chimes again and he ends up reaching for it anyway, careful not to jostle either his bowl or Candy.
It's Daeryong. heads up, the first message reads, followed by, ur ex (u know who) is gonna be at zm's wedding. vic just told me.
Zitao handles this like any mature adult who is totally over a relationship that ended five years ago would: he texts back, i'm not coming 😫 and throws his phone at the opposite side of the couch.
He doesn't really mean it- he's not petty enough to skip the wedding of two people he loves dearly just because thinking about his ex-boyfriend makes him feel eighteen years old and fragile all over again, no. "I'm going to have to get a date," he tells Candy. She responds by licking a smear of sauce off of Zitao's wrist.
He picks his phone up again, ignoring Daeryong's don't be a pussy and thumbing over to his phonebook.
"Chanyeol, my favorite Korean," Zitao says when Chanyeol picks up the phone. He can practically hear the narrowing of Chanyeol's eyes.
"What do you want?"
"Can't I just call to say hello?"
"Hello," Chanyeol says. "Goodbye."
"Hypothetically, I mean. Because right now I need a favor."
"Favor?"
"How do you feel about weddings?"
They meet the next day at Zitao's favorite cafe near his apartment, though by the time Chanyeol shows up, he almost wishes he'd chosen his favorite bar instead. He could use something stronger than his Americano, but at least the slice of chocolate cake is helping.
"You want me to be your fake date to your ex's wedding," Chanyeol says, in lieu of a greeting, sliding into the booth across from Zitao. He reaches automatically for Zitao's fork, but a well-aimed kick under the table has him pulling back.
In two years of knowing Chanyeol, they've never really been close. Antagonistic at first, because Chanyeol is possessive over his friends and seemed to always show up when Baekhyun and Zitao were talking to steer Baekhyun away. Zitao confronted him one night, a little drunk and waving his bottle of Asahi around as he said, "You're awfully tall for someone who is reacting like a middle schooler. I'm not going to steal your best friend, okay?"
And maybe it took yelling at him for Zitao to earn Chanyeol's respect, but whatever it was, they were good after that. Chanyeol turned out to be a pretty cool guy. He's funny, surprisingly sweet when he wants to be, capable of making a delicious cocktail out of the most random ingredients, and yes, he's loyal to his friends. Zitao just hopes he is included among them.
"Not my ex's wedding," Zitao corrects. "He's just going to be there. It's Zhou Mi's wedding."
Chanyeol squints at him. "And you don't have, like, a real date you want to bring?"
"It's in a week," Zitao says, arching an eyebrow. "I know I'm good looking, but I'm not a miracle worker."
"So why not Baekhyun? Or Sehun? Don't you have a ton of other friends you could ask?"
As though Zitao hasn't already considered other possibilities. Baekhyun: too short, too loose-tongued, too likely to misuse his elementary Chinese and mortally offend someone's family. Minseok: Zitao is a little afraid of his wife. Joonmyun: terrible under pressure, and frankly a little too straight. Sehun: knows too many of Zitao's friends who would immediately see through the lie (plus he already turned him down.) Chanyeol is the most logical choice.
Zitao flutters his eyelashes. "But you're my best looking friend."
And it's a blatant appeal to Chanyeol's vanity and he knows Chanyeol will see right through it, but he also knows that Chanyeol is up for anything that sounds like a bad idea and will say, which he does,
"Fine. But you owe me a new suit."
"Of course," Zitao says, sweetly, and pushes his plate across the table.
"You know," Zitao says, when Chanyeol shows up to the airport wearing a bright purple snapback with the word DOPE on it, "my boyfriends have historically been pretty stylish."
Chanyeol makes a scoffing noise. "You forget that I have known several of your boyfriends. And that you really can't talk."
"I have no idea what you mean," Zitao says, and smooths down the collar of his studded leather jacket.
By the time they board the plane, Chanyeol is in a much more cheerful mood, thanks largely in part to the business class lounge vodka selection.
("Wow, now that I know how the other half lives, I don't think I can go back to traveling like a plebe again," he says, stumbling a little because he's a lightweight.
"And you haven't even seen the first class lounge.")
Zitao lets him take the window seat, the least he can do for someone doing him a favor. Even in business class, Chanyeol's legs look cartoonishly long as he settles into his seat, and Zitao pauses to reflect on the fact that he's never dated anyone taller than himself. He wonders if his friends will notice. Which reminds him-
"Hey, we should go over our backstory," Zitao tells Chanyeol, poking him until he looks up from the tangled mess of headphones he's trying to unravel. "You know, our history. Like, how did we meet?"
"Uh, through mutual friends? You know how we met."
"But that's boring. We need a meet-cute version. I guess maybe you thinking I was going to steal your best friend is pretty cute," Zitao says, pouting.
Chanyeol gapes at him. "I never thought you were going to steal Baekhyun."
"You totally did!" Zitao protests, shoving Chanyeol again. "You were like Candy when I get too close to her food!"
"While the Baekhyun-dog food comparison is not lost on me, I'm really offended that you just compared me to your purse dog."
It's Zitao's turn to gape. "Candy is not a purse dog I can't believe you, I thought you liked her."
Whatever Chanyeol is going to argue next is interrupted by a flight attendant who tells them they'll be departing in five minutes, please fasten your seatbelts.
"How long have we been dating?" Chanyeol asks. "Just so I know."
Zitao hums thoughtfully, tapping on his chin. "Four- no, five. Five's a good number. Four isn't long enough to sound serious, but five is still not so long my friends won't be wondering why they haven't heard about it."
"Okay, we met through mutual friends. We've been dating for five months. Anything else?"
"You're ready to say the l-word but you've been waiting for the right time," Zitao says, nodding seriously. "It's a big step in any relationship."
Chanyeol's fist lands squarely against his upper arm. "In your fucking dreams, kid."
It's after midnight by the time they land and get through the airport. Flying, even this simple two hour flight he's been on more times than he can count on both hands, always makes Zitao sleepy. (That, and the gin and tonic he had on the plane.) "Carry me to our room," he tells Chanyeol, letting his head fall against Chanyeol's shoulder. He doesn't care that they're in the lobby of their hotel waiting for the elevator. In China, they're boyfriends now. Time to start acting the part.
"Okay, let me just leave our bags here," says Chanyeol. Sarcasm comes as naturally to him as affection does to Zitao. "We won't need them."
"Whatever you want, hyung."
The elevator dings with its arrival and Chanyeol gently shoves Zitao forward. "See, I can tell you're tired, because you never call me hyung, you brat."
"Hyung," Zitao says. "Hyung, hyung, hyung hyung, hyung-" And he doesn't let up until he's flopped down face first onto one of the double beds. Chanyeol's laugh is the last thing he hears as he falls asleep.
It takes three cups of coffee to pry Chanyeol out of bed the next day. Zitao drinks one too, but he doesn't need it. He's running on nervous energy, snapping his fingers at Chanyeol as he slugs around their hotel room.
"Wherever you're taking me at 8 AM, will there at least be food?" Chanyeol asks as he straightens his hat. Today's is a much more sensible engineer cap, and Zitao is satisfied.
"You'll find out when you get there."
There is an unassuming storefront, which Chanyeol regards skeptically until Zitao practically pushes him inside the door. They're met with an older Chinese woman wielding a measuring tape.
"He's all skin and bones like you said," she tells Zitao while she begins to measure Chanyeol. "You need to feed him while he's here."
"I'll try my best," Zitao says, giving her a fond smile. He's got a soft spot for older people.
Chanyeol has no idea what's going on and Zitao is kind of dying on the inside watching the progression of his face from surprised to deeply confused. "Your suit," Zitao reminds him. "Baekhyun gave me your size and they do same-day alterations here."
"Zitao," Chanyeol says, as the seamstress holds her tape to Chanyeol's inseam, "I'm really kind of starting to feel like an escort. Are you Pretty Womaning me?"
"I love that movie."
"Of course you do," Chanyeol says. When Zitao laughs, the seamstress laughs too.
Hours later, Zitao has more than made good on his promise to feed Chanyeol.
"You should've gotten them to measure me after you made me eat my body weight in food," Chanyeol groans, rubbing his stomach as he tries to finish off the last bites of his pork sandwich.
Zitao always eats like a bear storing for winter when he comes home. He loves Korean food- he loves all food, really- but the smell of his favorite, familiar foods seems to unlock a special second stomach for the occasion.
As they mill around the park, watching tourists with their huge cameras taking pictures of everything they pass, Zitao is content. If this was a real date, Zitao would be stopping Chanyeol to take pictures too. Couple selcas by the bridge; he can see the instagram captions now.
The mood is nice, which is why Zitao is caught off-guard when Chanyeol says, "So, you know what I'm going to ask, right?"
Zitao's heart gives a surprised, painful thump against his ribcage. "If I already know, can we skip it?"
Chanyeol is quiet for a moment and Zitao thinks he's escaped the line of questioning, until, "It's just that you've dated several guys since I've known you, and I can't see you doing this for any of them. So I'm wondering what's so special about this guy."
Zitao can't have this conversation in the middle of the walking path, where he feels oddly exposed. He tugs Chanyeol over to a bench, and sits, facing the pond.
"It's stupid," Zitao says.
Chanyeol shrugs. "It can't be more stupid than me getting on a plane to Beijing to be your fake boyfriend, so let me hear it."
Zitao was eighteen, unsure, and on his own for the first time in his life. Guo Xiang was twenty-six and closeted. Zitao knew this, but what he didn't know then was that you can't change people by the force of will alone. Guo Xiang was nice, but he was never going to want Zitao the same way Zitao wanted him, and it took him a year of dating and getting dumped for the girl Guo Xiang would later marry to realize this.
"It's like, I don't know. I just didn't want to show up alone because I didn't want him to think I was lonely because I'm gay or whatever," Zitao says, smoothing his sweaty palms down over his knees. He looks at Chanyeol. "See, I told you. Stupid."
"No, you're right. That is pretty stupid," Chanyeol says, "You don't have to prove yourself to shitty exes."
It's different hearing it out of someone else's mouth for once, laid out so bare that it makes Zitao laugh, despite himself. But Chanyeol's words seem to smooth the tension out of Zitao's shoulders. He closes his eyes as he lets out a long exhale.
When he opens his eyes again, Chanyeol is already standing, holding his hand out to Zitao with a wry smile on his face. "Come on, that was about as much emotional shit as I can handle for the next twelve hours. Take me to dessert."
Zitao slides his hand into Chanyeol's, and though Chanyeol doesn't know where he's going, lets himself be pulled along.
The bar they meet Zitao's friends at that night hasn't changed since the last time Zitao met them here, three years ago, a testament to the dependability of friendship in a city that's constantly evolving. Or maybe the owner is still just too cheap to remodel, but Zitao is sentimental to his core.
Even the same old pop music is playing as he guides Chanyeol by the hand through the crowd to the back corner, where his friends have already gathered with all of the available tables and chairs commandeered. He can't help but smile when he hears the sound of Henry's laughter, cutting through the music. Zitao doesn't get to see them enough.
Jia is the first to her feet when she spots Zitao, climbing over the mess of chairs to throw her arms around Zitao's neck. "Come, sit down!" she says, "we saved you two seats!"
They end up squashed between Amber and Fei, thighs pressed together under the table, and Zitao takes a deep breath to ready himself for the lie.
"Okay, so this is Amber, Jia, Henry, Fei, Hyelim, Cao Lu, Daeryong, Soryong-" Zitao points a finger at himself, "Zitao-" and then points to Chanyeol. "And this is my boyfriend, Park Chanyeol."
It sounds less weird out loud than Zitao expected.
He plays translator for Chanyeol as everyone gets their questions out of the way. What do you do for a living, how long have you been together, how did you meet, do you get annoyed when Zitao spends a half hour taking selcas before you go anywhere? ("I'm not translating that," Zitao says, glaring at Jia.) Chanyeol's arm remains firmly wrapped around Zitao's waist the whole time, the kind of possessive gesture Zitao likes in his boyfriends.
"Haven't we interrogated the poor boy enough?" Amber asks, one bro looking out for another bro.
"Okay, but I'm not done with you," Jia says to Chanyeol, and wiggles her eyebrows.
Zitao wasn't exactly nervous about Chanyeol meeting his friends, but he relaxes considerably when he finally gets a drink in his hand. He leans close enough to Chanyeol to whisper and holds out his glass. "To fake boyfriends?"
"To fake boyfriends." Chanyeol clinks their glasses together.
Zitao's excuse for getting sloppy drunk is that he hasn't seen most of his Chinese friends in over a year. And sure, they're all adults now (mostly, in some sense of the word) but what is the point of adulthood if you can't take shots for old time's sake? Especially now that you can afford the top shelf stuff.
"Zitao, you always could afford the top shelf stuff," Soryong says, patting him on the thigh. "It was the rest of us that had to drink basically rubbing alcohol."
"That's because you never let me buy for you," Zitao says with a pout.
"You would've bought drinks for the entire bar if we hadn't stopped you." Soryong leans closer to Zitao, nudging him with his shoulder. His voice is low and affectionate when he says, "Hey, you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend."
Over at the opposite end of their corner, Chanyeol is having an animated conversation with Hyelim and Cao Lu, something that probably involves teaching Cao Lu a bunch of dirty words in Korean because that's the kind of girl she is. Zitao had been worried that Chanyeol might feel left out, but he should've known better.
"You know me," Zitao says, still watching Chanyeol. His cap is crooked on his head and Zitao wants to fix it. "I don't like to jinx it."
"Yeah, sure," Soryong scoffs, "But you guys look good together. I like him."
Chanyeol catches Zitao's eye over the top of Cao Lu's head and smiles. Zitao feels a little light-headed in a way that has nothing to do with baijiu.
The next morning, Zitao wakes up to a pounding on the door, which he initially mistakes as a pounding inside his head until Chanyeol groans, get the fucking door from the other bed. It's a concierge, holding Chanyeol's suit.
"Good morning, sir, your-" the concierge starts to say, and Zitao hands him a wad of yuan and won notes from his wallet before closing the door in his face apologetically.
When Zitao wakes up again, several hours later, he feels significantly more human. Chanyeol is still asleep, buried under his fluffy hotel comforter with only his left arm exposed, so Zitao does what anyone would do: he pulls the entire blanket off of Chanyeol's body.
"I'll kill you," Chanyeol says, or Zitao thinks he says, because he's mostly speaking into the pillow.
"That's not something a good boyfriend would say."
Chanyeol looks up at Zitao, bedhead and a bit of morning bloat in his cheeks, and scowls. "Then be a good boyfriend and get me some Aspirin."
Zitao is putting the finishing touches on his outfit by the time Chanyeol emerges from the bathroom. "I think you-" Zitao starts to say, but when he looks at Chanyeol, he forgets how his sentence was supposed to end.
Chanyeol's suit looks great. Zitao knew it would- because despite what any haters think, he has excellent taste, thank you- but he's still surprised by Chanyeol's sharp angles and long lines, his shoulders filling out the tailoring nicely. Even his hair is slicked back with gel and he looks nothing like the gangly, baby-faced guy that Zitao is used to seeing. He looks good.
Except for the goat patterned socks sticking out of his hotel slippers, but Zitao can overlook that.
"You clean up nicely," Zitao says. He beckons Chanyeol forward. "Your tie is crooked."
Chanyeol spreads his legs just the tiniest bit so that he's eye level with Zitao, and tilts his head back to give Zitao access. His adam's apple bobs against the crisp fold of his collar as Zitao reaches around his throat, his fingers smoothing the wrinkled fabric of Chanyeol's tie down to the knot.
"I didn't pack it properly," Chanyeol says. Zitao can the deep vibrations of Chanyeol's voice in his fingertips where they're pressed to Chanyeol's chest.
Zitao steps back. His cheeks feel hot. "All better."
"Thanks," Chanyeol says, clearing his throat. "Ready to go?"
One last look in the mirror to make sure his appearance is as stunning as he hopes it is, and Zitao nods. Ready as he'll ever be.
Zitao doesn't cry at Zhou Mi's wedding.
Okay, he doesn't cry a lot at Zhou Mi's wedding. It's just that Zhou Mi is one of his most favorite people in the world and he looks so handsome standing up there in his tux, looking at Victoria like she hung the moon. She looks beautiful too, all done up looking every bit like a queen.
Zitao hopes he's being subtle when he reaches up to wipe away the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, but Chanyeol's fingers catch his, curling against Zitao's kneecap. He's glad isn't alone.
The banquet hall looks like something out of a movie. Everything is decorated with red and gold. Red tablecloths, gold lanterns, red roses on each table. Chanyeol lets out a low whistle of appreciation. "I've never been to a wedding like this," he says, "Yura's reception was pretty simple."
They're near the back of the crowd waiting to retrieve their assigned seat, but Zitao counts himself lucky that this is one of the smaller weddings he's attended. They should be able to sit down soon. "We don't do simple," he tells Chanyeol. "There are ten courses."
Chanyeol's reaction is so good it almost makes Zitao wish he had his phone out to record it. "Ten?"
"We'll probably be here all night," Zitao says.
"Is there dancing? Tell me there's no dancing. They made me do Crayon Pop at Yura's wedding."
Zitao laughs at the thought. "There's no dancing."
"Thank God."
They reach the table of place cards, and of course Chanyeol insists on finding his among the names even though they've been written in fancy calligraphy. "Piao Canlie," Zitao says, scooping up Chanyeol's card along with his own. "You're holding up the line."
They've been assigned to a table with a few of Victoria's more distant cousins and some of Zhou Mi's coworkers. Small talk is exchanged, but Zitao notices Chanyeol's eyes scanning the crowd. "Are you looking for someone?" he asks.
"Your ex," Chanyeol says. "Do you see him? Is that him? Or that one?"
Zitao smacks Chanyeol's hand down. "Stop pointing, it's rude. And I don't remember what the back of his head looks like, sorry."
"I'm looking for people who look like your type. You know, long legs. Big eyes."
"And big ears and clown feet?" Zitao asks. "Sounds familiar."
"You forgot 'unbearably handsome,'" Chanyeol says, preening.
It's five courses into the night before Zitao thinks about Guo Xiang again. He's returning from the bathroom when he hears his name being called, "Zitao? Hey, Zitao!"
Guo Xiang has aged well. In Zitao's mind, he's been twenty-six for the last five-and-a-half years, long hair and a short beard that scraped against Zitao's chin whenever they kissed. Here, in real life, Guo Xiang's hair is cropped short and his face is clean-shaven. He looks good. He isn't wearing a wedding band around his finger when he reaches up to give Zitao a brief, one-armed hug.
"Hey," Zitao says, and in that moment he is more surprised by the lack of hurt he feels than seeing Guo Xiang himself.
"What have you been up to?" Guo Xiang asks.
"I work for a music company in Seoul, I've been there for a few years now. What about you?"
Guo Xiang shrugs a little. "Well, my wife and I split up last year, but things are good. Still doing the banking thing. Are you here with anyone?"
Zitao looks over at Chanyeol. Two of Zhou Mi's female coworkers have inserted themselves on either side of Chanyeol and he's laughing with them even though Zitao knows neither party understands a mutual word. A bubble of affection wells up in Zitao's chest, stronger than any regret he feels when he looks at Guo Xiang again.
It feels remarkably un-fake when he says, "My boyfriend. Who I should probably get back to. Zhou Mi's friends are trying to get him a job here or something and he doesn't speak and Chinese."
"Well, it was good to see you," Guo Xiang says. He hugs Zitao one more time, more firmly.
"You too."
Chanyeol is watching him when Zitao reclaims his seat at the table. "That him?" he asks.
Zitao nods, and- because he's feeling brave, because the charm of Chanyeol in a suit hasn't worn off even after four hours- leans up to kiss Chanyeol on his cheek.
There's a chorus of awwws from the women at the table and Chanyeol lets out a small gasp of surprise. "Your ex watching?" he asks, cheeks faintly red.
"Who cares?" Zitao says, shrugging. It's not a lie.
Their flight leaves early the next morning. They'll be back in Seoul before 10 and Chanyeol will go back to being his real friend instead of his fake boyfriend. Three days might be the shortest relationship Zitao's had, though probably not the worst.
"That was kind of anticlimactic, huh?" Chanyeol says. His headphones are still a mess, but he's given up on them. "You saw your ex and I didn't even have to throw down for your honor or anything."
"I'm sorry I wasted your time," Zitao says, laughing.
Chanyeol waves a hand. "No, it wasn't a waste. I got a suit out of it. And a ton of good food, Jesus, was your plan to make me gain five pounds? Oh, and I liked your friends too. Henry and I are going to jam sometime if he comes to Seoul."
Zitao turns his face to watch Chanyeol ramble. He's suddenly very glad he didn't bring Baekhyun, or Sehun, or anyone else. They had a good time. "You know, this is the most time we've spent together in two years," he says, interrupting Chanyeol.
"You're right. Who would've thought we'd get this far?"
Zitao's heart is beating too fast and he must be staring at this point, because Chanyeol gives him a puzzled look. "What?"
"Do you want to do this again sometime?" Zitao asks. "Like, for real."
Now Chanyeol is staring too. There is a hesitation just long enough for Zitao to feel the beginnings of panic seizing up his chest but then Chanyeol's lips spread to reveal a toothy grin. "Okay," he says.
"Okay?"
"Let's do it."
Chanyeol holds out his hand, probably for a high five or something completely unromantic like that, but Zitao says fuck it, intertwining their fingers together. He's still got two more hours of fake boyfriend time.
And then, maybe more.
ready to start
EXO/B1A4, Tao/Gongchan, PG, ~3.5k
I may be Batman, but you're Robin my heart. [warnings]One scene contains a brief mugging and some minor wounds.
Zitao's work routine is consistent. He arrives at his counter (five minutes late with Starbucks, but who's counting?) and straightens up bottles and tubes until the morning's first customers begin to trickle through the doors. Naturally, almost all of them walk past his counter in favor of either the escalator or one of the makeup counters, while Zitao does his best to look welcoming and knowledgeable in his white lab coat.
It isn't a bad gig, all in all. Just a little boring. Most of the department store's customers eschew the brand he represents in favor of some of the more youthful, trendier (see also: cheaper) brands, so Zitao is left to deal with demanding middle-aged women who regard him with a general air of suspicion because he's a guy. As though Zitao's eyeliner isn't always on point.
They are, however, willing to spend big money on any products, which means Zitao almost always makes his commission, but how many people can say that working at a makeup counter is their lifelong ambition?
Probably not many.
Halfway into Zitao's shift, he's finished selecting a night cream for a customer to go with her new serum and the coffee has come back to haunt him. As soon as his customer walks away, Zitao flags down Juhyun from MAC and shouts at her to watch his counter before he sprints away to the bathroom.
He's on his way back when he there is someone standing at his counter, surveying the concealers. There is a guy standing at his counter, but before Zitao can weave past a group of teenage girls trying on Etude House lipsticks-gross, he thinks-the guy makes his choice. Zitao catches only a glimpse of a nice jaw and a sharp nose as the guy hurries off to the registers.
"Did you see him?" Juhyun asks, leaning over a display of lipsticks to watch the guy's retreating figure.
"No, was he cute?" Zitao asks.
"He was gorgeous," Juhyun says, sighing. "Pity about the bruises, though. He had a shiner the size of your hand. I wonder what happened."
Zitao checks the concealer display. There's one missing, warm medium. He doesn't think much else about it.
⚡
Seoul, Zitao knows, is very safe. It's one of the reasons his parents didn't fight the idea of him moving here on his own and it's why Zitao feels comfortable enough to walk Candy around his block at 2 AM. He's not that much of a night owl these days, not when he has to be at work early in the morning, but he's too restless to sleep and he needs something to do with his legs. It's not exactly the long walk on the beach his body is craving, but it gets the job done.
His neighborhood is quiet at this hour. On the weekend, there might be couples returning home from bars, or older men smoking where their wives won't criticize, but it's just Zitao and Candy tonight.
He hears Candy's bark before he hears the footsteps behind him. A hand clamps tight around his upper arm and he's jerked backwards to a stop. Zitao feels hot breath on the side of his face just as a man's voice says, "Give me your wallet and your phone."
It feels like a bucket of cold water has been poured over his head, a shock to his system. Zitao's hands shake when he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He reaches around for his wallet but- "I didn't bring my wallet with me," he says, his voice is barely a whisper.
"Don't lie to me," the man hisses in Zitao's ear. Zitao can smell the alcohol on his breath now and he realizes that he could probably push the man away, but he never gets the chance, because a moment later there's a shout and the sound of something like an electric shock and Zitao's arm is released.
Zitao turns to find the man he presumes to be his attacker struggling with a man in a black face mask, sees the metal glint of a knife in the attacker's hand, and he does the first thing he can think of: he punches his attacker in the face.
It's a piss-poor shot, landing closer to his ear than his nose like Zitao intended, but with the combined efforts of Masked Man, it's enough to bring him to the ground.
"What the fuck?" Zitao shrills. A few feet away, Candy is barking like the guard dog she thinks she is while Zitao stands there, holding her leash limply in his hand. No, seriously, what the fuck.
Masked Man has crouched down over the attacker, securing his hands behind his back as he moans pitifully. "The police will be here in a few minutes," Masked Man tells Zitao. "I'd suggest you go home."
Then he takes off running. "Are you kidding me?" Zitao says, mostly to Candy, and then to the man, "Hey, wait up!"
Not unexpectedly, Masked Man does not wait up. Zitao huffs to himself, scoops Candy into his arms, and chases after him. Even with the head start, the masked man doesn't make it far. He stumbles into an alley up ahead and Zitao is hot on his heels, turning in after him.
Masked Man has stopped, leaning against an overflowing trash can as he clutches his side.
Now that Zitao is standing still, as Candy squirms and yelps in his arms, the jolt of terror he felt just a few minutes ago catches up with him and his chest feels so tight he can't breathe. "What was that all about?" He's shouting and Masked Man motions weakly for him to lower his voice. "Where did you come from? Who are-"
And that's when Zitao sees it. The guy's mask had been pulled down in the fight and it sits low enough on his face now to reveal his eyes, a smear of red and purple around his cheekbone, and his nose. Zitao isn't one to forget a good nose. "You were at my makeup counter yesterday," he says, mouth hanging open in shock.
"No I wasn't," Masked Man says.
"Yes, you were." Zitao takes a step closer. There's no mistaking it-he's the same guy. "You ran off before I could tell you that you got the wrong shade of concealer."
Masked Man just groans, the hand at his side clenching tighter.
"You're hurt," Zitao says, setting his confusion aside momentarily.
"I'm fine."
Zitao gives him a pointed look. "Clearly not. My apartment isn't far and I know first aid, come back with me."
Maybe the squeal of police sirens down the street spooks him or something, because Masked Man doesn't even try to argue. He pulls his mask back up and says, "Okay, fine."
When they get inside the apartment, Masked Man stumbles over to Zitao's couch while Candy makes a beeline for her dog bed, probably worn out from the night's excitement. Zitao emerges from the kitchen with his first-aid kit, which consists mostly of odds and ends left over from years of martial arts training.
"What's your name?" Zitao asks the man, kneeling down in front of him.
"Chansik," he answers through clenched teeth.
"I'm Zitao."
Zitao pushes Chansik's shirt up as gently as he can. There's the beginnings of a nasty bruise and a bit of blood from what looks to be a shallow cut, but nothing terribly serious. Zitao can't help but feel relieved. He goes to the kitchen again for a wet cloth and when he returns, Chansik has pulled off his mask, head thrown back against Zitao's cushion.
Juhyun hadn't been wrong; Chansik is gorgeous. He looks like someone out of one of the dramas Zitao watches, even with the black eye, like if Zitao licked his thumb and held it to Chansik's face he could just wipe it away.
"What happened to your face?"
"I'm in a fight club," Chansik says, deadpan, though the effect is somewhat mitigated by his audible wince when Zitao presses the cloth to his skin.
"Right," Zitao says, "and that stuff tonight?"
"Guy had gambling debts, he's already mugged two different people in the last two weeks. Wrong place, wrong time." Chansik shoots him a pained smile. He has nice teeth, Zitao notes. "You're safe now."
"Because you tased him," Zitao says. He puts down the cloth. "Wait, that's illegal isn't it?"
Chansik shrugs. "Maybe you're dreaming."
Zitao really, truly feels like he might be. "This is going to hurt," he warns Chansik, holding the bottle of peroxide over his cut. The muscles in Chansik's stomach flex in anticipation, and it is certainly not the right time, but Zitao can't help but notice he's got a nice body to go with his face. If he is dreaming, Zitao's brain knows him well.
"This could probably go without saying," Chansik says, inhaling sharply as Zitao pours the peroxide, "but don't tell anyone about tonight."
"Who would believe me anyway?"
"That's kind of the point of what we-ow ow ow-do."
We, Zitao notes as he reaches for the gauze, except he all finds at the bottom of his first-aid kit are a couple of expired packets of aspirin and, inexplicably, a candy bar wrapper. He pats Chansik on the knee as he stands. "Hold on, I've got more gauze in the bathroom."
Zitao probably should've been expecting it when he returns from the bathroom to find Chansik gone, but he can't help but feel a little worried. He leans down to scoop up the bloody towel and something black catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. Chansik's mask, the only tangible reminder he has that this night ever happened at all.
⚡
Zitao shows up to work the next day thirty minutes late and without any Starbucks to show for it. He's going to get a stern email from his boss about his absence, probably, but he's too tired to care. Even after Chansik left, Zitao stayed up for hours searching for anything to do with superheroes in Seoul. Of course, all he found were a bunch of VIXX fancams (which he stayed up another half hour watching) and nothing that could give him any insight as to who Chansik might be. It wasn't like there was anything he knew about Chansik to search for anyway. He wasn't wearing a cape or any brightly colored tights like Zitao has seen in cartoons. He just looked like any other guy Zitao's age, except with a nicer ass.
"Zitao," Juhyun says, clicking her tongue at him as he slumps over his counter. "Your eyebags have eyebags. No one is going to want to buy makeup from you."
"Good, can I go home then?"
"Don't go home yet," says a familiar voice.
Zitao perks up immediately. Chansik is standing in front of him, which means the entire night wasn't just a lucid dream. "Hi," he says. "How's your rib?"
Chansik scrunches up his face. "It hurt like a bitch, but I'm tough."
"That's good," Zitao says. Chansik's mask is sitting on his kitchen counter at home, because it didn't feel right to just throw it away. He wishes he'd brought it with him, but he didn't think he'd see Chansik ever again. "What are you doing here?"
"You told me I got the wrong shade of concealer. I work at a children's museum and the kids are giving me weird looks, plus my co-workers keep asking if I'm in a bad relationship, so I'm here for your expertise."
"Why don't you just tell them you're in a fight club?" Zitao teases as he rifles through his kit, looking for the right shade to match Chansik's skin. "Go sit down."
Chansik laughs. "That would be breaking the first rule."
Doing makeup for people is the part of Zitao's job that he actually likes the most, but he's never worked on someone this handsome before. Chansik's skin is smooth, blemish-free, not too oily. A little dry around his forehead, but nothing Zitao couldn't work around if Chansik were here for a whole makeover. Zitao brushes Chansik's bangs away from his eyes and applies a thin layer of primer to his skin, careful to keep his touch light.
"First I'm using the green primer before I use the concealer," Zitao explains. "It'll neutralize the red, even out your skintone a little bit."
"I'll take your word for it," Chansik says. His eyelashes flutter against the back of Zitao's hand when he leans in to pat on the concealer.
"Let's let that dry," Zitao says, stepping back to survey his work. He'll need to apply a second layer, but Chansik already looks better fit for society. "So, is it like that every night?"
"Is what like that every night?" Chansik asks, eyebrows drawing together.
"Being a superhero?"
Chansik doesn't even look surprised. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Masked stranger saves innocent boy and dog?" Zitao says, tilting his head. "Yeah, right. I can put two and two together."
They reach a stand-off. Zitao holds his gaze steady; he's never been good at staring contests, but he isn't going to back down. Finally, Chansik sighs, eyes shifting away.
"We can't talk about this here."
Zitao leads Chansik out to the landing dock through the back door, which he knows will be open despite the EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY sign because Dohyun from the shoe department likes to smoke out here. He half expects Chansik to run away again, but he seats himself on top of a crate and says, "It's not like what you think."
"Then what is it?" Zitao asks.
Chansik shrugs, looking a bit sheepish. "We're not superheroes. I didn't get bitten by a radioactive spider or anything, we don't have powers. We're...vigilantes."
Zitao recognizes the word, but he doesn't really get it. "What does that mean?"
"It means we help people. We're there where the police aren't, or where the police choose not to be."
"And does that involve getting your ass kicked a lot?"
"Hey, I'm new," Chansik says, a touch defensive. "There's a learning curve." He looks down at his watch, then back up at Zitao. "I have to go, my lunch break is almost over and I'm supposed to bring food back for everyone."
He reaches out, catching Zitao's elbow in his palm. "Thank you for everything."
And just like that Zitao's day goes back to normal. No more potential muggings, no more mysterious hot guys. The most exciting part about Zitao's evening is being yelled at by a woman for being out of the perfume she wants.
Life continues on as it had been.
⚡
Except Zitao can't stop thinking about Chansik.
He stands in his kitchen that night, passing Chansik's mask from hand to hand as he waits for his takeout and thinks about what Chansik could be doing at that moment. Stopping a thief about to take a woman's purse, protecting someone who's gotten on the wrong side of a gang, saving a bunch of orphans from a fire-
Probably not that last one. There's only so much a normal guy can do after all.
The mask in his hands is just as normal, black and cheap like so many others he's sees every day on the faces of strangers or in the aisles of convenience stores. Just enough to cover the lower half of Chansik's face and maybe the worst of that black eye he walked in with that first day, so Zitao figures it does the job.
He stares down at it long and hard enough to feel a stirring of desire in his chest that has nothing to do with the fact that Chansik is hotter than any boy he's slept with in the last year, even with the bruises. A simple mask like this isn't the only difference between the two of them. But as he holds it out over his face, his hands tingle with the memory of punching his attacker in the face, the jolt of adrenaline he had felt right as his knuckles had connected. Just as his fingers are itching to fit the straps around his ears, the doorbell rings.
He blinks, slowly setting down the mask and heading over to the door before it rings again and Candy starts barking. On the other side is the delivery guy, holding his order of fried chicken in one hand and reaching into his pocket with the other and for a moment, Zitao's entire body tenses up in anticipation, only relaxing with he's presented with a receipt instead of whatever he'd been expecting. The exchange, the delivery guy, Zitao- they're all normal.
He doesn't know what vigilantes do, he doesn't even have the faintest idea. But it has to be more exciting than waking up in a daze every morning to sell products to people who don't even deserve them. His body is still buzzing as he sets his meal down, just like it had the night before, and he closes his eyes and imagines feeling like this all of the time. Like he could be doing something exciting. Something more.
⚡
Chansik doesn't look all that surprised to see Zitao soaking up the last of the day's sunshine on one of the benches outside of the children's museum the next day.
"Should I be worried that you're stalking me?" Chansik asks, even as he settles down next to Zitao.
Zitao is pleased to note that Chansik is wearing the concealer Zitao picked out for him, though his application leaves something to be desired.
"You should be impressed by my ingenuity," Zitao says confidently. (Not so much ingenuity as dumb luck. His first attempt calling one of the local museums and asking, Is Chansik working today and he got a yes. Chansik doesn't need to know that.) "Besides," Zitao says, holding out his hand a scrap of black fabric, "I had to give this back to you."
Chansik takes the mask from Zitao with a small, surprised laugh. "This cost 2,000 won."
"I thought it might've had sentimental value," Zitao says innocently.
"Of course," Chansik says. He gives Zitao a look that is, if possible, a cross between thoughtful and suspicious. "I know why you're really here."
"And why's that?"
"You probably want to be a superhero," he says, careful to keep his voice low as mothers tug their hyper children through the museum's exit doors. "I could see the wheels turning in your head the other day."
Zitao doesn't refute it.
"You think you're up for it? You landed one good punch on that mugger, but there's a lot more to it than just that."
"Then tell me," Zitao says, scooting forward until his knees touch Chansik's. "I couldn't find anything about you on Naver."
"Of course not," Chansik says with a snort. "We don't exactly advertise ourselves. That would defeat the purpose."
"Who's we?"
"The Justice League," Chansik says, so sincerely that Zitao believes him for a second.
Zitao kicks him in the shin, not hard enough to leave behind any additional bruises but hard enough for Chansik to yelp. "I'm serious," Zitao says, "I want to know."
Chansik sighs and leans back, tilting his face up to the sun. "There's not a lot I can tell you besides there's a bunch of us running around trying to make the city a little bit safer at night. My hyungs are better at it than me for now. They've been at it for years, but I'm still training. I won't have to worry about getting the right concealer to match my skin eventually. I shouldn't be telling you any of this stuff anyway."
"Then why are you?" Zitao asks, feeling faintly shy all of a sudden.
"Because you seem like the kind of guy we need," Chansik says, turning to look at Zitao. "Or maybe I'm just tired of getting beaten up and could use a hand."
"I could lend you a hand," Zitao says. Then Chansik laughs and Zitao realizes his innuendo, cheeks going pink. "No! I didn't mean it like that!"
Chansik pats him gently on the knee. "Sure you didn't." Zitao grumbles something about changing his mind and not wanting to play sidekick to someone who is so mean. Chansik just looks pleased.
"I want to help you though. I want to do something that matters," Zitao says, because it feels important that he says it, even if he thinks Chansik might already know it. "What you did for me was really cool. I didn't get to thank you for it."
"You're welcome," Chansik says, squeezing Zitao's knee.
The tinny sound of an AOA song coming from Chansik's bag kind of ruins the moment. "Jinyoung hyung," Chansik tells Zitao as he fishes his phone out. "It's almost dark. You think you're ready, Robin?
"What is it?" Zitao asks, jumping eagerly to his feet. "Robbery? Fight?"
"Kitten stuck in a tree," Chansik reads from his phone.
Every superhero has to start somewhere.
----
i wrote both of these in the middle of having an ear infection, on top of the usual exchange related hysterics but i think they turned out ok!! thank you to nhi, jess, kayleigh- everyone who saved my ass. one day i'm going to learn not to accept pinch hits when i am still not done with my original fic.
and now i officially hang up my exo fandom hat.
be my lady tonight
EXO, Tao/Chanyeol, PG, ~4.4k
Tao doesn't have a date to Zhou Mi's wedding, but he has the next best thing.
With less than two weeks before Zhou Mi is set to walk down the aisle, Zitao has everything ready. His plane ticket, his best suit back from the dry cleaners and hanging in his closet, the perfect wedding gift wrapped and tied up with a red ribbon.
Even his suitcase has been dragged out of storage--not packed yet, of course, but it's good enough start. He's in the middle of rewarding himself for being on top of things for once, Candy perched neatly in his lap as he slurps a bowl of jjajangmyun, when his phone chimes loud enough to be heard over the drama he's watching. He glances at it on the table, debating whether or not it's worth the effort of moving when he's so comfortable, but then it chimes again and he ends up reaching for it anyway, careful not to jostle either his bowl or Candy.
It's Daeryong. heads up, the first message reads, followed by, ur ex (u know who) is gonna be at zm's wedding. vic just told me.
Zitao handles this like any mature adult who is totally over a relationship that ended five years ago would: he texts back, i'm not coming 😫 and throws his phone at the opposite side of the couch.
He doesn't really mean it- he's not petty enough to skip the wedding of two people he loves dearly just because thinking about his ex-boyfriend makes him feel eighteen years old and fragile all over again, no. "I'm going to have to get a date," he tells Candy. She responds by licking a smear of sauce off of Zitao's wrist.
He picks his phone up again, ignoring Daeryong's don't be a pussy and thumbing over to his phonebook.
"Chanyeol, my favorite Korean," Zitao says when Chanyeol picks up the phone. He can practically hear the narrowing of Chanyeol's eyes.
"What do you want?"
"Can't I just call to say hello?"
"Hello," Chanyeol says. "Goodbye."
"Hypothetically, I mean. Because right now I need a favor."
"Favor?"
"How do you feel about weddings?"
They meet the next day at Zitao's favorite cafe near his apartment, though by the time Chanyeol shows up, he almost wishes he'd chosen his favorite bar instead. He could use something stronger than his Americano, but at least the slice of chocolate cake is helping.
"You want me to be your fake date to your ex's wedding," Chanyeol says, in lieu of a greeting, sliding into the booth across from Zitao. He reaches automatically for Zitao's fork, but a well-aimed kick under the table has him pulling back.
In two years of knowing Chanyeol, they've never really been close. Antagonistic at first, because Chanyeol is possessive over his friends and seemed to always show up when Baekhyun and Zitao were talking to steer Baekhyun away. Zitao confronted him one night, a little drunk and waving his bottle of Asahi around as he said, "You're awfully tall for someone who is reacting like a middle schooler. I'm not going to steal your best friend, okay?"
And maybe it took yelling at him for Zitao to earn Chanyeol's respect, but whatever it was, they were good after that. Chanyeol turned out to be a pretty cool guy. He's funny, surprisingly sweet when he wants to be, capable of making a delicious cocktail out of the most random ingredients, and yes, he's loyal to his friends. Zitao just hopes he is included among them.
"Not my ex's wedding," Zitao corrects. "He's just going to be there. It's Zhou Mi's wedding."
Chanyeol squints at him. "And you don't have, like, a real date you want to bring?"
"It's in a week," Zitao says, arching an eyebrow. "I know I'm good looking, but I'm not a miracle worker."
"So why not Baekhyun? Or Sehun? Don't you have a ton of other friends you could ask?"
As though Zitao hasn't already considered other possibilities. Baekhyun: too short, too loose-tongued, too likely to misuse his elementary Chinese and mortally offend someone's family. Minseok: Zitao is a little afraid of his wife. Joonmyun: terrible under pressure, and frankly a little too straight. Sehun: knows too many of Zitao's friends who would immediately see through the lie (plus he already turned him down.) Chanyeol is the most logical choice.
Zitao flutters his eyelashes. "But you're my best looking friend."
And it's a blatant appeal to Chanyeol's vanity and he knows Chanyeol will see right through it, but he also knows that Chanyeol is up for anything that sounds like a bad idea and will say, which he does,
"Fine. But you owe me a new suit."
"Of course," Zitao says, sweetly, and pushes his plate across the table.
"You know," Zitao says, when Chanyeol shows up to the airport wearing a bright purple snapback with the word DOPE on it, "my boyfriends have historically been pretty stylish."
Chanyeol makes a scoffing noise. "You forget that I have known several of your boyfriends. And that you really can't talk."
"I have no idea what you mean," Zitao says, and smooths down the collar of his studded leather jacket.
By the time they board the plane, Chanyeol is in a much more cheerful mood, thanks largely in part to the business class lounge vodka selection.
("Wow, now that I know how the other half lives, I don't think I can go back to traveling like a plebe again," he says, stumbling a little because he's a lightweight.
"And you haven't even seen the first class lounge.")
Zitao lets him take the window seat, the least he can do for someone doing him a favor. Even in business class, Chanyeol's legs look cartoonishly long as he settles into his seat, and Zitao pauses to reflect on the fact that he's never dated anyone taller than himself. He wonders if his friends will notice. Which reminds him-
"Hey, we should go over our backstory," Zitao tells Chanyeol, poking him until he looks up from the tangled mess of headphones he's trying to unravel. "You know, our history. Like, how did we meet?"
"Uh, through mutual friends? You know how we met."
"But that's boring. We need a meet-cute version. I guess maybe you thinking I was going to steal your best friend is pretty cute," Zitao says, pouting.
Chanyeol gapes at him. "I never thought you were going to steal Baekhyun."
"You totally did!" Zitao protests, shoving Chanyeol again. "You were like Candy when I get too close to her food!"
"While the Baekhyun-dog food comparison is not lost on me, I'm really offended that you just compared me to your purse dog."
It's Zitao's turn to gape. "Candy is not a purse dog I can't believe you, I thought you liked her."
Whatever Chanyeol is going to argue next is interrupted by a flight attendant who tells them they'll be departing in five minutes, please fasten your seatbelts.
"How long have we been dating?" Chanyeol asks. "Just so I know."
Zitao hums thoughtfully, tapping on his chin. "Four- no, five. Five's a good number. Four isn't long enough to sound serious, but five is still not so long my friends won't be wondering why they haven't heard about it."
"Okay, we met through mutual friends. We've been dating for five months. Anything else?"
"You're ready to say the l-word but you've been waiting for the right time," Zitao says, nodding seriously. "It's a big step in any relationship."
Chanyeol's fist lands squarely against his upper arm. "In your fucking dreams, kid."
It's after midnight by the time they land and get through the airport. Flying, even this simple two hour flight he's been on more times than he can count on both hands, always makes Zitao sleepy. (That, and the gin and tonic he had on the plane.) "Carry me to our room," he tells Chanyeol, letting his head fall against Chanyeol's shoulder. He doesn't care that they're in the lobby of their hotel waiting for the elevator. In China, they're boyfriends now. Time to start acting the part.
"Okay, let me just leave our bags here," says Chanyeol. Sarcasm comes as naturally to him as affection does to Zitao. "We won't need them."
"Whatever you want, hyung."
The elevator dings with its arrival and Chanyeol gently shoves Zitao forward. "See, I can tell you're tired, because you never call me hyung, you brat."
"Hyung," Zitao says. "Hyung, hyung, hyung hyung, hyung-" And he doesn't let up until he's flopped down face first onto one of the double beds. Chanyeol's laugh is the last thing he hears as he falls asleep.
It takes three cups of coffee to pry Chanyeol out of bed the next day. Zitao drinks one too, but he doesn't need it. He's running on nervous energy, snapping his fingers at Chanyeol as he slugs around their hotel room.
"Wherever you're taking me at 8 AM, will there at least be food?" Chanyeol asks as he straightens his hat. Today's is a much more sensible engineer cap, and Zitao is satisfied.
"You'll find out when you get there."
There is an unassuming storefront, which Chanyeol regards skeptically until Zitao practically pushes him inside the door. They're met with an older Chinese woman wielding a measuring tape.
"He's all skin and bones like you said," she tells Zitao while she begins to measure Chanyeol. "You need to feed him while he's here."
"I'll try my best," Zitao says, giving her a fond smile. He's got a soft spot for older people.
Chanyeol has no idea what's going on and Zitao is kind of dying on the inside watching the progression of his face from surprised to deeply confused. "Your suit," Zitao reminds him. "Baekhyun gave me your size and they do same-day alterations here."
"Zitao," Chanyeol says, as the seamstress holds her tape to Chanyeol's inseam, "I'm really kind of starting to feel like an escort. Are you Pretty Womaning me?"
"I love that movie."
"Of course you do," Chanyeol says. When Zitao laughs, the seamstress laughs too.
Hours later, Zitao has more than made good on his promise to feed Chanyeol.
"You should've gotten them to measure me after you made me eat my body weight in food," Chanyeol groans, rubbing his stomach as he tries to finish off the last bites of his pork sandwich.
Zitao always eats like a bear storing for winter when he comes home. He loves Korean food- he loves all food, really- but the smell of his favorite, familiar foods seems to unlock a special second stomach for the occasion.
As they mill around the park, watching tourists with their huge cameras taking pictures of everything they pass, Zitao is content. If this was a real date, Zitao would be stopping Chanyeol to take pictures too. Couple selcas by the bridge; he can see the instagram captions now.
The mood is nice, which is why Zitao is caught off-guard when Chanyeol says, "So, you know what I'm going to ask, right?"
Zitao's heart gives a surprised, painful thump against his ribcage. "If I already know, can we skip it?"
Chanyeol is quiet for a moment and Zitao thinks he's escaped the line of questioning, until, "It's just that you've dated several guys since I've known you, and I can't see you doing this for any of them. So I'm wondering what's so special about this guy."
Zitao can't have this conversation in the middle of the walking path, where he feels oddly exposed. He tugs Chanyeol over to a bench, and sits, facing the pond.
"It's stupid," Zitao says.
Chanyeol shrugs. "It can't be more stupid than me getting on a plane to Beijing to be your fake boyfriend, so let me hear it."
Zitao was eighteen, unsure, and on his own for the first time in his life. Guo Xiang was twenty-six and closeted. Zitao knew this, but what he didn't know then was that you can't change people by the force of will alone. Guo Xiang was nice, but he was never going to want Zitao the same way Zitao wanted him, and it took him a year of dating and getting dumped for the girl Guo Xiang would later marry to realize this.
"It's like, I don't know. I just didn't want to show up alone because I didn't want him to think I was lonely because I'm gay or whatever," Zitao says, smoothing his sweaty palms down over his knees. He looks at Chanyeol. "See, I told you. Stupid."
"No, you're right. That is pretty stupid," Chanyeol says, "You don't have to prove yourself to shitty exes."
It's different hearing it out of someone else's mouth for once, laid out so bare that it makes Zitao laugh, despite himself. But Chanyeol's words seem to smooth the tension out of Zitao's shoulders. He closes his eyes as he lets out a long exhale.
When he opens his eyes again, Chanyeol is already standing, holding his hand out to Zitao with a wry smile on his face. "Come on, that was about as much emotional shit as I can handle for the next twelve hours. Take me to dessert."
Zitao slides his hand into Chanyeol's, and though Chanyeol doesn't know where he's going, lets himself be pulled along.
The bar they meet Zitao's friends at that night hasn't changed since the last time Zitao met them here, three years ago, a testament to the dependability of friendship in a city that's constantly evolving. Or maybe the owner is still just too cheap to remodel, but Zitao is sentimental to his core.
Even the same old pop music is playing as he guides Chanyeol by the hand through the crowd to the back corner, where his friends have already gathered with all of the available tables and chairs commandeered. He can't help but smile when he hears the sound of Henry's laughter, cutting through the music. Zitao doesn't get to see them enough.
Jia is the first to her feet when she spots Zitao, climbing over the mess of chairs to throw her arms around Zitao's neck. "Come, sit down!" she says, "we saved you two seats!"
They end up squashed between Amber and Fei, thighs pressed together under the table, and Zitao takes a deep breath to ready himself for the lie.
"Okay, so this is Amber, Jia, Henry, Fei, Hyelim, Cao Lu, Daeryong, Soryong-" Zitao points a finger at himself, "Zitao-" and then points to Chanyeol. "And this is my boyfriend, Park Chanyeol."
It sounds less weird out loud than Zitao expected.
He plays translator for Chanyeol as everyone gets their questions out of the way. What do you do for a living, how long have you been together, how did you meet, do you get annoyed when Zitao spends a half hour taking selcas before you go anywhere? ("I'm not translating that," Zitao says, glaring at Jia.) Chanyeol's arm remains firmly wrapped around Zitao's waist the whole time, the kind of possessive gesture Zitao likes in his boyfriends.
"Haven't we interrogated the poor boy enough?" Amber asks, one bro looking out for another bro.
"Okay, but I'm not done with you," Jia says to Chanyeol, and wiggles her eyebrows.
Zitao wasn't exactly nervous about Chanyeol meeting his friends, but he relaxes considerably when he finally gets a drink in his hand. He leans close enough to Chanyeol to whisper and holds out his glass. "To fake boyfriends?"
"To fake boyfriends." Chanyeol clinks their glasses together.
Zitao's excuse for getting sloppy drunk is that he hasn't seen most of his Chinese friends in over a year. And sure, they're all adults now (mostly, in some sense of the word) but what is the point of adulthood if you can't take shots for old time's sake? Especially now that you can afford the top shelf stuff.
"Zitao, you always could afford the top shelf stuff," Soryong says, patting him on the thigh. "It was the rest of us that had to drink basically rubbing alcohol."
"That's because you never let me buy for you," Zitao says with a pout.
"You would've bought drinks for the entire bar if we hadn't stopped you." Soryong leans closer to Zitao, nudging him with his shoulder. His voice is low and affectionate when he says, "Hey, you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend."
Over at the opposite end of their corner, Chanyeol is having an animated conversation with Hyelim and Cao Lu, something that probably involves teaching Cao Lu a bunch of dirty words in Korean because that's the kind of girl she is. Zitao had been worried that Chanyeol might feel left out, but he should've known better.
"You know me," Zitao says, still watching Chanyeol. His cap is crooked on his head and Zitao wants to fix it. "I don't like to jinx it."
"Yeah, sure," Soryong scoffs, "But you guys look good together. I like him."
Chanyeol catches Zitao's eye over the top of Cao Lu's head and smiles. Zitao feels a little light-headed in a way that has nothing to do with baijiu.
The next morning, Zitao wakes up to a pounding on the door, which he initially mistakes as a pounding inside his head until Chanyeol groans, get the fucking door from the other bed. It's a concierge, holding Chanyeol's suit.
"Good morning, sir, your-" the concierge starts to say, and Zitao hands him a wad of yuan and won notes from his wallet before closing the door in his face apologetically.
When Zitao wakes up again, several hours later, he feels significantly more human. Chanyeol is still asleep, buried under his fluffy hotel comforter with only his left arm exposed, so Zitao does what anyone would do: he pulls the entire blanket off of Chanyeol's body.
"I'll kill you," Chanyeol says, or Zitao thinks he says, because he's mostly speaking into the pillow.
"That's not something a good boyfriend would say."
Chanyeol looks up at Zitao, bedhead and a bit of morning bloat in his cheeks, and scowls. "Then be a good boyfriend and get me some Aspirin."
Zitao is putting the finishing touches on his outfit by the time Chanyeol emerges from the bathroom. "I think you-" Zitao starts to say, but when he looks at Chanyeol, he forgets how his sentence was supposed to end.
Chanyeol's suit looks great. Zitao knew it would- because despite what any haters think, he has excellent taste, thank you- but he's still surprised by Chanyeol's sharp angles and long lines, his shoulders filling out the tailoring nicely. Even his hair is slicked back with gel and he looks nothing like the gangly, baby-faced guy that Zitao is used to seeing. He looks good.
Except for the goat patterned socks sticking out of his hotel slippers, but Zitao can overlook that.
"You clean up nicely," Zitao says. He beckons Chanyeol forward. "Your tie is crooked."
Chanyeol spreads his legs just the tiniest bit so that he's eye level with Zitao, and tilts his head back to give Zitao access. His adam's apple bobs against the crisp fold of his collar as Zitao reaches around his throat, his fingers smoothing the wrinkled fabric of Chanyeol's tie down to the knot.
"I didn't pack it properly," Chanyeol says. Zitao can the deep vibrations of Chanyeol's voice in his fingertips where they're pressed to Chanyeol's chest.
Zitao steps back. His cheeks feel hot. "All better."
"Thanks," Chanyeol says, clearing his throat. "Ready to go?"
One last look in the mirror to make sure his appearance is as stunning as he hopes it is, and Zitao nods. Ready as he'll ever be.
Zitao doesn't cry at Zhou Mi's wedding.
Okay, he doesn't cry a lot at Zhou Mi's wedding. It's just that Zhou Mi is one of his most favorite people in the world and he looks so handsome standing up there in his tux, looking at Victoria like she hung the moon. She looks beautiful too, all done up looking every bit like a queen.
Zitao hopes he's being subtle when he reaches up to wipe away the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, but Chanyeol's fingers catch his, curling against Zitao's kneecap. He's glad isn't alone.
The banquet hall looks like something out of a movie. Everything is decorated with red and gold. Red tablecloths, gold lanterns, red roses on each table. Chanyeol lets out a low whistle of appreciation. "I've never been to a wedding like this," he says, "Yura's reception was pretty simple."
They're near the back of the crowd waiting to retrieve their assigned seat, but Zitao counts himself lucky that this is one of the smaller weddings he's attended. They should be able to sit down soon. "We don't do simple," he tells Chanyeol. "There are ten courses."
Chanyeol's reaction is so good it almost makes Zitao wish he had his phone out to record it. "Ten?"
"We'll probably be here all night," Zitao says.
"Is there dancing? Tell me there's no dancing. They made me do Crayon Pop at Yura's wedding."
Zitao laughs at the thought. "There's no dancing."
"Thank God."
They reach the table of place cards, and of course Chanyeol insists on finding his among the names even though they've been written in fancy calligraphy. "Piao Canlie," Zitao says, scooping up Chanyeol's card along with his own. "You're holding up the line."
They've been assigned to a table with a few of Victoria's more distant cousins and some of Zhou Mi's coworkers. Small talk is exchanged, but Zitao notices Chanyeol's eyes scanning the crowd. "Are you looking for someone?" he asks.
"Your ex," Chanyeol says. "Do you see him? Is that him? Or that one?"
Zitao smacks Chanyeol's hand down. "Stop pointing, it's rude. And I don't remember what the back of his head looks like, sorry."
"I'm looking for people who look like your type. You know, long legs. Big eyes."
"And big ears and clown feet?" Zitao asks. "Sounds familiar."
"You forgot 'unbearably handsome,'" Chanyeol says, preening.
It's five courses into the night before Zitao thinks about Guo Xiang again. He's returning from the bathroom when he hears his name being called, "Zitao? Hey, Zitao!"
Guo Xiang has aged well. In Zitao's mind, he's been twenty-six for the last five-and-a-half years, long hair and a short beard that scraped against Zitao's chin whenever they kissed. Here, in real life, Guo Xiang's hair is cropped short and his face is clean-shaven. He looks good. He isn't wearing a wedding band around his finger when he reaches up to give Zitao a brief, one-armed hug.
"Hey," Zitao says, and in that moment he is more surprised by the lack of hurt he feels than seeing Guo Xiang himself.
"What have you been up to?" Guo Xiang asks.
"I work for a music company in Seoul, I've been there for a few years now. What about you?"
Guo Xiang shrugs a little. "Well, my wife and I split up last year, but things are good. Still doing the banking thing. Are you here with anyone?"
Zitao looks over at Chanyeol. Two of Zhou Mi's female coworkers have inserted themselves on either side of Chanyeol and he's laughing with them even though Zitao knows neither party understands a mutual word. A bubble of affection wells up in Zitao's chest, stronger than any regret he feels when he looks at Guo Xiang again.
It feels remarkably un-fake when he says, "My boyfriend. Who I should probably get back to. Zhou Mi's friends are trying to get him a job here or something and he doesn't speak and Chinese."
"Well, it was good to see you," Guo Xiang says. He hugs Zitao one more time, more firmly.
"You too."
Chanyeol is watching him when Zitao reclaims his seat at the table. "That him?" he asks.
Zitao nods, and- because he's feeling brave, because the charm of Chanyeol in a suit hasn't worn off even after four hours- leans up to kiss Chanyeol on his cheek.
There's a chorus of awwws from the women at the table and Chanyeol lets out a small gasp of surprise. "Your ex watching?" he asks, cheeks faintly red.
"Who cares?" Zitao says, shrugging. It's not a lie.
Their flight leaves early the next morning. They'll be back in Seoul before 10 and Chanyeol will go back to being his real friend instead of his fake boyfriend. Three days might be the shortest relationship Zitao's had, though probably not the worst.
"That was kind of anticlimactic, huh?" Chanyeol says. His headphones are still a mess, but he's given up on them. "You saw your ex and I didn't even have to throw down for your honor or anything."
"I'm sorry I wasted your time," Zitao says, laughing.
Chanyeol waves a hand. "No, it wasn't a waste. I got a suit out of it. And a ton of good food, Jesus, was your plan to make me gain five pounds? Oh, and I liked your friends too. Henry and I are going to jam sometime if he comes to Seoul."
Zitao turns his face to watch Chanyeol ramble. He's suddenly very glad he didn't bring Baekhyun, or Sehun, or anyone else. They had a good time. "You know, this is the most time we've spent together in two years," he says, interrupting Chanyeol.
"You're right. Who would've thought we'd get this far?"
Zitao's heart is beating too fast and he must be staring at this point, because Chanyeol gives him a puzzled look. "What?"
"Do you want to do this again sometime?" Zitao asks. "Like, for real."
Now Chanyeol is staring too. There is a hesitation just long enough for Zitao to feel the beginnings of panic seizing up his chest but then Chanyeol's lips spread to reveal a toothy grin. "Okay," he says.
"Okay?"
"Let's do it."
Chanyeol holds out his hand, probably for a high five or something completely unromantic like that, but Zitao says fuck it, intertwining their fingers together. He's still got two more hours of fake boyfriend time.
And then, maybe more.
ready to start
EXO/B1A4, Tao/Gongchan, PG, ~3.5k
I may be Batman, but you're Robin my heart. [warnings]One scene contains a brief mugging and some minor wounds.
Zitao's work routine is consistent. He arrives at his counter (five minutes late with Starbucks, but who's counting?) and straightens up bottles and tubes until the morning's first customers begin to trickle through the doors. Naturally, almost all of them walk past his counter in favor of either the escalator or one of the makeup counters, while Zitao does his best to look welcoming and knowledgeable in his white lab coat.
It isn't a bad gig, all in all. Just a little boring. Most of the department store's customers eschew the brand he represents in favor of some of the more youthful, trendier (see also: cheaper) brands, so Zitao is left to deal with demanding middle-aged women who regard him with a general air of suspicion because he's a guy. As though Zitao's eyeliner isn't always on point.
They are, however, willing to spend big money on any products, which means Zitao almost always makes his commission, but how many people can say that working at a makeup counter is their lifelong ambition?
Probably not many.
Halfway into Zitao's shift, he's finished selecting a night cream for a customer to go with her new serum and the coffee has come back to haunt him. As soon as his customer walks away, Zitao flags down Juhyun from MAC and shouts at her to watch his counter before he sprints away to the bathroom.
He's on his way back when he there is someone standing at his counter, surveying the concealers. There is a guy standing at his counter, but before Zitao can weave past a group of teenage girls trying on Etude House lipsticks-gross, he thinks-the guy makes his choice. Zitao catches only a glimpse of a nice jaw and a sharp nose as the guy hurries off to the registers.
"Did you see him?" Juhyun asks, leaning over a display of lipsticks to watch the guy's retreating figure.
"No, was he cute?" Zitao asks.
"He was gorgeous," Juhyun says, sighing. "Pity about the bruises, though. He had a shiner the size of your hand. I wonder what happened."
Zitao checks the concealer display. There's one missing, warm medium. He doesn't think much else about it.
⚡
Seoul, Zitao knows, is very safe. It's one of the reasons his parents didn't fight the idea of him moving here on his own and it's why Zitao feels comfortable enough to walk Candy around his block at 2 AM. He's not that much of a night owl these days, not when he has to be at work early in the morning, but he's too restless to sleep and he needs something to do with his legs. It's not exactly the long walk on the beach his body is craving, but it gets the job done.
His neighborhood is quiet at this hour. On the weekend, there might be couples returning home from bars, or older men smoking where their wives won't criticize, but it's just Zitao and Candy tonight.
He hears Candy's bark before he hears the footsteps behind him. A hand clamps tight around his upper arm and he's jerked backwards to a stop. Zitao feels hot breath on the side of his face just as a man's voice says, "Give me your wallet and your phone."
It feels like a bucket of cold water has been poured over his head, a shock to his system. Zitao's hands shake when he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He reaches around for his wallet but- "I didn't bring my wallet with me," he says, his voice is barely a whisper.
"Don't lie to me," the man hisses in Zitao's ear. Zitao can smell the alcohol on his breath now and he realizes that he could probably push the man away, but he never gets the chance, because a moment later there's a shout and the sound of something like an electric shock and Zitao's arm is released.
Zitao turns to find the man he presumes to be his attacker struggling with a man in a black face mask, sees the metal glint of a knife in the attacker's hand, and he does the first thing he can think of: he punches his attacker in the face.
It's a piss-poor shot, landing closer to his ear than his nose like Zitao intended, but with the combined efforts of Masked Man, it's enough to bring him to the ground.
"What the fuck?" Zitao shrills. A few feet away, Candy is barking like the guard dog she thinks she is while Zitao stands there, holding her leash limply in his hand. No, seriously, what the fuck.
Masked Man has crouched down over the attacker, securing his hands behind his back as he moans pitifully. "The police will be here in a few minutes," Masked Man tells Zitao. "I'd suggest you go home."
Then he takes off running. "Are you kidding me?" Zitao says, mostly to Candy, and then to the man, "Hey, wait up!"
Not unexpectedly, Masked Man does not wait up. Zitao huffs to himself, scoops Candy into his arms, and chases after him. Even with the head start, the masked man doesn't make it far. He stumbles into an alley up ahead and Zitao is hot on his heels, turning in after him.
Masked Man has stopped, leaning against an overflowing trash can as he clutches his side.
Now that Zitao is standing still, as Candy squirms and yelps in his arms, the jolt of terror he felt just a few minutes ago catches up with him and his chest feels so tight he can't breathe. "What was that all about?" He's shouting and Masked Man motions weakly for him to lower his voice. "Where did you come from? Who are-"
And that's when Zitao sees it. The guy's mask had been pulled down in the fight and it sits low enough on his face now to reveal his eyes, a smear of red and purple around his cheekbone, and his nose. Zitao isn't one to forget a good nose. "You were at my makeup counter yesterday," he says, mouth hanging open in shock.
"No I wasn't," Masked Man says.
"Yes, you were." Zitao takes a step closer. There's no mistaking it-he's the same guy. "You ran off before I could tell you that you got the wrong shade of concealer."
Masked Man just groans, the hand at his side clenching tighter.
"You're hurt," Zitao says, setting his confusion aside momentarily.
"I'm fine."
Zitao gives him a pointed look. "Clearly not. My apartment isn't far and I know first aid, come back with me."
Maybe the squeal of police sirens down the street spooks him or something, because Masked Man doesn't even try to argue. He pulls his mask back up and says, "Okay, fine."
When they get inside the apartment, Masked Man stumbles over to Zitao's couch while Candy makes a beeline for her dog bed, probably worn out from the night's excitement. Zitao emerges from the kitchen with his first-aid kit, which consists mostly of odds and ends left over from years of martial arts training.
"What's your name?" Zitao asks the man, kneeling down in front of him.
"Chansik," he answers through clenched teeth.
"I'm Zitao."
Zitao pushes Chansik's shirt up as gently as he can. There's the beginnings of a nasty bruise and a bit of blood from what looks to be a shallow cut, but nothing terribly serious. Zitao can't help but feel relieved. He goes to the kitchen again for a wet cloth and when he returns, Chansik has pulled off his mask, head thrown back against Zitao's cushion.
Juhyun hadn't been wrong; Chansik is gorgeous. He looks like someone out of one of the dramas Zitao watches, even with the black eye, like if Zitao licked his thumb and held it to Chansik's face he could just wipe it away.
"What happened to your face?"
"I'm in a fight club," Chansik says, deadpan, though the effect is somewhat mitigated by his audible wince when Zitao presses the cloth to his skin.
"Right," Zitao says, "and that stuff tonight?"
"Guy had gambling debts, he's already mugged two different people in the last two weeks. Wrong place, wrong time." Chansik shoots him a pained smile. He has nice teeth, Zitao notes. "You're safe now."
"Because you tased him," Zitao says. He puts down the cloth. "Wait, that's illegal isn't it?"
Chansik shrugs. "Maybe you're dreaming."
Zitao really, truly feels like he might be. "This is going to hurt," he warns Chansik, holding the bottle of peroxide over his cut. The muscles in Chansik's stomach flex in anticipation, and it is certainly not the right time, but Zitao can't help but notice he's got a nice body to go with his face. If he is dreaming, Zitao's brain knows him well.
"This could probably go without saying," Chansik says, inhaling sharply as Zitao pours the peroxide, "but don't tell anyone about tonight."
"Who would believe me anyway?"
"That's kind of the point of what we-ow ow ow-do."
We, Zitao notes as he reaches for the gauze, except he all finds at the bottom of his first-aid kit are a couple of expired packets of aspirin and, inexplicably, a candy bar wrapper. He pats Chansik on the knee as he stands. "Hold on, I've got more gauze in the bathroom."
Zitao probably should've been expecting it when he returns from the bathroom to find Chansik gone, but he can't help but feel a little worried. He leans down to scoop up the bloody towel and something black catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. Chansik's mask, the only tangible reminder he has that this night ever happened at all.
⚡
Zitao shows up to work the next day thirty minutes late and without any Starbucks to show for it. He's going to get a stern email from his boss about his absence, probably, but he's too tired to care. Even after Chansik left, Zitao stayed up for hours searching for anything to do with superheroes in Seoul. Of course, all he found were a bunch of VIXX fancams (which he stayed up another half hour watching) and nothing that could give him any insight as to who Chansik might be. It wasn't like there was anything he knew about Chansik to search for anyway. He wasn't wearing a cape or any brightly colored tights like Zitao has seen in cartoons. He just looked like any other guy Zitao's age, except with a nicer ass.
"Zitao," Juhyun says, clicking her tongue at him as he slumps over his counter. "Your eyebags have eyebags. No one is going to want to buy makeup from you."
"Good, can I go home then?"
"Don't go home yet," says a familiar voice.
Zitao perks up immediately. Chansik is standing in front of him, which means the entire night wasn't just a lucid dream. "Hi," he says. "How's your rib?"
Chansik scrunches up his face. "It hurt like a bitch, but I'm tough."
"That's good," Zitao says. Chansik's mask is sitting on his kitchen counter at home, because it didn't feel right to just throw it away. He wishes he'd brought it with him, but he didn't think he'd see Chansik ever again. "What are you doing here?"
"You told me I got the wrong shade of concealer. I work at a children's museum and the kids are giving me weird looks, plus my co-workers keep asking if I'm in a bad relationship, so I'm here for your expertise."
"Why don't you just tell them you're in a fight club?" Zitao teases as he rifles through his kit, looking for the right shade to match Chansik's skin. "Go sit down."
Chansik laughs. "That would be breaking the first rule."
Doing makeup for people is the part of Zitao's job that he actually likes the most, but he's never worked on someone this handsome before. Chansik's skin is smooth, blemish-free, not too oily. A little dry around his forehead, but nothing Zitao couldn't work around if Chansik were here for a whole makeover. Zitao brushes Chansik's bangs away from his eyes and applies a thin layer of primer to his skin, careful to keep his touch light.
"First I'm using the green primer before I use the concealer," Zitao explains. "It'll neutralize the red, even out your skintone a little bit."
"I'll take your word for it," Chansik says. His eyelashes flutter against the back of Zitao's hand when he leans in to pat on the concealer.
"Let's let that dry," Zitao says, stepping back to survey his work. He'll need to apply a second layer, but Chansik already looks better fit for society. "So, is it like that every night?"
"Is what like that every night?" Chansik asks, eyebrows drawing together.
"Being a superhero?"
Chansik doesn't even look surprised. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Masked stranger saves innocent boy and dog?" Zitao says, tilting his head. "Yeah, right. I can put two and two together."
They reach a stand-off. Zitao holds his gaze steady; he's never been good at staring contests, but he isn't going to back down. Finally, Chansik sighs, eyes shifting away.
"We can't talk about this here."
Zitao leads Chansik out to the landing dock through the back door, which he knows will be open despite the EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY sign because Dohyun from the shoe department likes to smoke out here. He half expects Chansik to run away again, but he seats himself on top of a crate and says, "It's not like what you think."
"Then what is it?" Zitao asks.
Chansik shrugs, looking a bit sheepish. "We're not superheroes. I didn't get bitten by a radioactive spider or anything, we don't have powers. We're...vigilantes."
Zitao recognizes the word, but he doesn't really get it. "What does that mean?"
"It means we help people. We're there where the police aren't, or where the police choose not to be."
"And does that involve getting your ass kicked a lot?"
"Hey, I'm new," Chansik says, a touch defensive. "There's a learning curve." He looks down at his watch, then back up at Zitao. "I have to go, my lunch break is almost over and I'm supposed to bring food back for everyone."
He reaches out, catching Zitao's elbow in his palm. "Thank you for everything."
And just like that Zitao's day goes back to normal. No more potential muggings, no more mysterious hot guys. The most exciting part about Zitao's evening is being yelled at by a woman for being out of the perfume she wants.
Life continues on as it had been.
⚡
Except Zitao can't stop thinking about Chansik.
He stands in his kitchen that night, passing Chansik's mask from hand to hand as he waits for his takeout and thinks about what Chansik could be doing at that moment. Stopping a thief about to take a woman's purse, protecting someone who's gotten on the wrong side of a gang, saving a bunch of orphans from a fire-
Probably not that last one. There's only so much a normal guy can do after all.
The mask in his hands is just as normal, black and cheap like so many others he's sees every day on the faces of strangers or in the aisles of convenience stores. Just enough to cover the lower half of Chansik's face and maybe the worst of that black eye he walked in with that first day, so Zitao figures it does the job.
He stares down at it long and hard enough to feel a stirring of desire in his chest that has nothing to do with the fact that Chansik is hotter than any boy he's slept with in the last year, even with the bruises. A simple mask like this isn't the only difference between the two of them. But as he holds it out over his face, his hands tingle with the memory of punching his attacker in the face, the jolt of adrenaline he had felt right as his knuckles had connected. Just as his fingers are itching to fit the straps around his ears, the doorbell rings.
He blinks, slowly setting down the mask and heading over to the door before it rings again and Candy starts barking. On the other side is the delivery guy, holding his order of fried chicken in one hand and reaching into his pocket with the other and for a moment, Zitao's entire body tenses up in anticipation, only relaxing with he's presented with a receipt instead of whatever he'd been expecting. The exchange, the delivery guy, Zitao- they're all normal.
He doesn't know what vigilantes do, he doesn't even have the faintest idea. But it has to be more exciting than waking up in a daze every morning to sell products to people who don't even deserve them. His body is still buzzing as he sets his meal down, just like it had the night before, and he closes his eyes and imagines feeling like this all of the time. Like he could be doing something exciting. Something more.
⚡
Chansik doesn't look all that surprised to see Zitao soaking up the last of the day's sunshine on one of the benches outside of the children's museum the next day.
"Should I be worried that you're stalking me?" Chansik asks, even as he settles down next to Zitao.
Zitao is pleased to note that Chansik is wearing the concealer Zitao picked out for him, though his application leaves something to be desired.
"You should be impressed by my ingenuity," Zitao says confidently. (Not so much ingenuity as dumb luck. His first attempt calling one of the local museums and asking, Is Chansik working today and he got a yes. Chansik doesn't need to know that.) "Besides," Zitao says, holding out his hand a scrap of black fabric, "I had to give this back to you."
Chansik takes the mask from Zitao with a small, surprised laugh. "This cost 2,000 won."
"I thought it might've had sentimental value," Zitao says innocently.
"Of course," Chansik says. He gives Zitao a look that is, if possible, a cross between thoughtful and suspicious. "I know why you're really here."
"And why's that?"
"You probably want to be a superhero," he says, careful to keep his voice low as mothers tug their hyper children through the museum's exit doors. "I could see the wheels turning in your head the other day."
Zitao doesn't refute it.
"You think you're up for it? You landed one good punch on that mugger, but there's a lot more to it than just that."
"Then tell me," Zitao says, scooting forward until his knees touch Chansik's. "I couldn't find anything about you on Naver."
"Of course not," Chansik says with a snort. "We don't exactly advertise ourselves. That would defeat the purpose."
"Who's we?"
"The Justice League," Chansik says, so sincerely that Zitao believes him for a second.
Zitao kicks him in the shin, not hard enough to leave behind any additional bruises but hard enough for Chansik to yelp. "I'm serious," Zitao says, "I want to know."
Chansik sighs and leans back, tilting his face up to the sun. "There's not a lot I can tell you besides there's a bunch of us running around trying to make the city a little bit safer at night. My hyungs are better at it than me for now. They've been at it for years, but I'm still training. I won't have to worry about getting the right concealer to match my skin eventually. I shouldn't be telling you any of this stuff anyway."
"Then why are you?" Zitao asks, feeling faintly shy all of a sudden.
"Because you seem like the kind of guy we need," Chansik says, turning to look at Zitao. "Or maybe I'm just tired of getting beaten up and could use a hand."
"I could lend you a hand," Zitao says. Then Chansik laughs and Zitao realizes his innuendo, cheeks going pink. "No! I didn't mean it like that!"
Chansik pats him gently on the knee. "Sure you didn't." Zitao grumbles something about changing his mind and not wanting to play sidekick to someone who is so mean. Chansik just looks pleased.
"I want to help you though. I want to do something that matters," Zitao says, because it feels important that he says it, even if he thinks Chansik might already know it. "What you did for me was really cool. I didn't get to thank you for it."
"You're welcome," Chansik says, squeezing Zitao's knee.
The tinny sound of an AOA song coming from Chansik's bag kind of ruins the moment. "Jinyoung hyung," Chansik tells Zitao as he fishes his phone out. "It's almost dark. You think you're ready, Robin?
"What is it?" Zitao asks, jumping eagerly to his feet. "Robbery? Fight?"
"Kitten stuck in a tree," Chansik reads from his phone.
Every superhero has to start somewhere.
----
i wrote both of these in the middle of having an ear infection, on top of the usual exchange related hysterics but i think they turned out ok!! thank you to nhi, jess, kayleigh- everyone who saved my ass. one day i'm going to learn not to accept pinch hits when i am still not done with my original fic.
and now i officially hang up my exo fandom hat.