I'm just gonna ride on this Sulay train until I either decide to hop off or it crashes lol.

...

Junmyeon let out a heavy sigh, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a long drink. Evicted. He should've known his fragile little world would soon crumble around him. That was how he was built, off bad luck and dumb decisions. So he found himself homeless once again, with nothing but the outfit he currently wore and a tiny amount of pocket change, which of course only fed an addiction he wished so bad he could kick some days.

He glanced up warily at the upscale apartment complex. He knew who laid beyond those intricate front doors. But could he face the two of them, especially now? Then again they'd witnessed his fall from grace firsthand. They'd actually discouraged his relationship with Eunha at first, saying how toxic her reputation made her seem. Of course Junmyeon ignored them, too young and in love to see the warning signs himself. He squared his shoulders and pushed passed the doors, hoping he didn't look as homeless as he was.

"Excuse me." Junmyeon flinched as a voice rang out in the grand lobby. "May I ask what you're doing here? Junmyeon slowly turned, coming face to face with the receptionist that hadn't been at the desk a moment ago. "I don't believe you live here either," the man continued, wrinkling his nose.

"No," Junmyeon agreed. "I'm here to see..." He squinted into the distance, thoughts fuzzy. "Byun Baekhyun and Park Chanyeol." He finally fished the names out of the depths. "I need to see my friends." The receptionist's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something.

"Junmyeon!" A second voice interrupted the first. One Junmyeon was more than familiar with. Byun Baekhyun, house husband to Park Chanyeol, partners at the head of their department with the fierce Wu Yifan. "What are you doing here?" Baekhyun asked, tucking his tablet against his side and shouldering his bag a little higher. He glanced behind his friend. "Jaehyun I got this." The other man mumbled something and moved off. "You don't look so good my friend," Baekhyun continued cheerfully.

"Thanks," Junmyeon mumbled, following Baekhyun to the elevator up to their apartment. Baekhyun let them in. "I've been evicted again." Junmyeon blurted, getting right to the point. There was no sense trying to sugar coat anything. Baekhyun always saw right through him anyway. The slightly taller man hummed, leaning against the small kitchen island to study one of his best friends. He tisked to himself. Junmyeon had such a promising future. It seemed such a shame it was all going to waste.

Baekhyun's gaze raked up and down the inebriated man, who swayed unsteadily on his feet and shrunk away from the intense set of eyes boring holes into his skin. Baekhyun shook his head again. He reeked of booze. It was like this every few months or so. After every failed job or every eviction, Junmyeon would appear at their door, seeking solace from two of the only people in his life that had showed him any kindness. And Baekhyun loved the man, he really did. He just wasn't sure if they could keep up this song and dance, going round in circles with no end goal in sight. Junmyeon claimed he wanted a change, but how was he supposed to do that if he didn't actively try?

"Say, Junmyeon," Baekhyun suddenly spoke, causing the older of the two men to start, blinking like he'd been lost in thought. "Have you ever considered...rehab?" Junmyeon's expression contorted at the idea. "Hear me out though," Baekhyun continued. "Not only would you be sheltered and clothed, they would help you work through your issues, past and present." He'd known the other man for far too long, knowing that he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders already, even before the alcoholism really sunk its claws into him. "There's plenty of them run on government funding. You would pay next to nothing."

"I'm fine Baek," Junmyeon insisted. "I don't need rehab." Baekhyun sighed heavily, his head dropping onto his palms as he studied Junmyeon once again. He set his tablet up and opened to his latest design, studying the intricate patterns he'd traced. Junmyeon watched silently, cracked lips pursed, waiting patiently for Baekhyun to notice him again. "Whatcha doing?" he finally inquired. Baekhyun started, pulled from his thoughts. He glanced up the man fidgeting nervously in the threshold between the living space and the kitchen.

"Designing some things," he finally replied, powering the device down. "Look, Junnie." Junmyeon winced at the nickname. It had been awhile since he heard that one. "I don't know what you want me to do. I've offered my help countless times, but I can't always be your crutch." Baekhyun's words were like a slap in the face, though that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "One day you're going to come here and assistance will be gone. We love you, Jun. We really do. But we can't keep doing this." Junmyeon stumbled back a step, his resolve crumbling. Baekhyun... One of the few people in his life who ever cared about him...

"Alright," he said, clumsily bowing, head swimming. "Sorry to bother you. It... It won't happen again." He turned and headed towards the door.

"Jun..." he heard behind him. But he opened the door and calmly walked down the several flights of stairs to the bottom, head held high. Or so it seemed. As soon as his sneakered feet hit the cement he bolted. As fast as his weak legs would let him. No home. No friends. No life worth living. He finally realized exactly how alone he really was.

...

"No! Don't go!" Zitao wailed, clinging to his boyfriend for dear life. Yixing watched on, strange emotions lighting up inside him. It really did tug at his heartstrings to see Zitao, who was once very confident and very cocky, reduced to crying out to Yifan to not abandon him. Yifan had been half hoping to sneak out when Zitao was occupied by something else, mainly the card game he and Yixing had been playing. But as soon as the door clicked open Zitao swarmed him, crying and shaking.

"Shh it's alright Taozi," Yifan soothed, running his fingers up the smaller male's spine. His cried died down to whimpers, his face buried in the taller's chest. "I'm just going in for a few hours. I promise I won't be gone very long." Zitao sniffed and Yifan effortlessly hoisted him up, carrying him back into the apartment. He set him down by the table, next to where Yixing sat. Said male opened his arms wide and allowed Zitao to tumble into his embrace. Yifan smiled fondly at the two of them. "Be good for Yixing," he said, kissing the top of Zitao's head and ruffling Yixing's hair.

"You promise you won't be gone more than a few hours?" Zitao asked, peeping up at his tall boyfriend. He felt...strange. It would be the first day since his suicide attempt nearly a month ago that the two of them would be separated. And he hated this feeling so much, of needing Yifan to be here in order for him to feel like he could function. He glanced up at Yixing, a strange man he'd met a handful of times before now. Worry gnawed at his belly.

"I promise baby." Yifan's voice grounded him to reality once again. "I'm just going to make sure the department isn't on fire, and then check in with Chanyeol to see how the latest project is coming along. I promise I won't be very long."

"You still have me Taozi." Zitao swung his gaze back to Yixing, who gave him a full dimpled smile. "I'm not going anywhere. Wanna help me bake some cookies? I love to bake."

"Yeah," Zitao said softly, already thinking he could present them to Yifan when he returned. He rose from his place on Yixing's lap, trailing behind him to the kitchen. Yifan used the opportunity to slip out the front door unnoticed, hovering momentarily to watch the two men in the kitchen interact. He closed the door behind him at last, heading to work for the first time in a great, long while.

"So Zitao," Yixing said, rifling through the cupboards in search of everything that he wanted. "Tell me a bit about yourself. Obviously Yifan has told me about you, but he never gave any great details." Zitao pondered what to say. What as he anymore anyway? It felt like all he could picture right now was that night, staring at himself in the mirror while he shovelled pills into his system, tears streaming down his face. He shook himself out of those thoughts. Yixing waited patiently for Zitao to speak, letting him collect his thoughts.

"I moved here when I was about fifteen," Zitao began, scooting up to sit on the counter by the sink, his feet dangling over the side. He fiddled with his fingers. "I once had dreams of training to be an idol, but I very quickly discovered that life really wasn't for me after all after passing an audition and starting trainee life. Man, it's brutal. They monitor your every move." He paused, taking a deep breath, relaxing ever so slightly. "So I decided to go to university and get my degree instead. I met Yifan there you know. He had this reputation for being a bad boy womanizer which is absurd. He'd a giant teddy bear most of the time. And womanizer he is definitely not." Yixing chuckled at the description. "I studied fashion at university. Found a passion I didn't even know I possessed. Began designing my own articles and getting a line put together. I'd sold scattered pieces to high end brands, but really wanted to make a name for myself. And then... And then..." Then his life suddenly hit a brick wall and for no reason he resented himself. He wasn't even sure where these feelings came from. He had nothing in his life to be sad about.

"Hey," Yixing softly spoke. Zitao glanced up. "Remember Tao, your feelings, no matter how confusing, are valid. You don't have to have a reason to feel the things you do." Tears sprang to Zitao's eyes and he glanced away. "Come on," he urged gently. "Cookies won't bake themselves." Zitao slid off the counter and padded quietly to Yixing's side, studying the ingredients spread out in front of them.

"What about you?" Zitao asked. Yixing turned to him. "You know about me. But I don't know much about you." Yixing chuckled again, turning back to the cupboards to get bowls and measuring cups.

"Spent most of my life living in the outskirts of Beijing," he started, pulling things down as he went. "Lived with two very loving and open minded parents who taught me the importance of loving the small, seemingly insignificant things in life. I'm fortunate they've been so supportive of everything I've done in life so far. I had many fleeting interests growing up. I learned piano. I took to painting, singing, dancing, anything and everything I could get my hands on. At one point I wanted to be a chef, so mom spent countless hours in the kitchen with me whipping up recipes. That faded as I neared graduation, but we still cooked together all the time." Yixing tossed some flour in the bowl in front of him while Zitao watched, transfixed. "Finally around halfway through year twelve I picked up writing. That was my real calling. I practiced and poured my whole heart into it all through university. Majored in journalism with a minor in creative writing simply because I loved it so much. I don't exactly know what I want to do with the degree yet, but I will figure it out."

"Cool," Zitao breathed, and Yixing fondly smiled. "Can we give Yifan some cookies when he gets home?" Zitao asked shyly, playing with the hem of his shirt. "It would be a good way to say thank you for taking care of me."

"I'm sure he would love that Taozi," Yixing said, scooting over so the other male could get involved. "And Tao?" Said man turned his head at his name. "We're proud of you, you know. It's not easy doing what you're doing. But you're trying." Zitao flushed and he promptly looked away.

"Thank you," he said softly. Yixing patted his shoulder and they continued to make cookies like nothing ever happened. And yes, Yifan did love them when he returned home.

...

Fun fun fun. It took me way too long to get passed the first like three hundred words or so.