Chapter Text
chapter one - a video clip
Time doesn’t matter. That’s just something that was to be figured out eventually. Don’t worry or fear too much, a rant about time isn’t coming your way, so don’t think of this segment as preaching to the point where you’ll have an existential crisis. But the whole ‘time is useless and a poorly constructed illusion’-idea is just a fact. Time doesn’t matter, since it’s a silly concept made up by people whose own existences were limited, and were over in a heartbeat. Time doesn’t matter, because some people don’t know what to make of it. Time is miraculous and fascinating in its own way, with its presence so fragile and weak, and denying that seems like a fool’s job. However, time allows you to spend it in whatever way you desire to, and that’s what’s so dangerous about it. As it allows you to do great things, it also allows you to waste yourself to the point where the time you once possessed will remain insignificant.
Chanyeol felt like he knew all of this better than anyone else, but maybe that’s giving him too much credit. But time was something he found himself quite stuck in whether he wanted to or not. Past and present, perhaps even the future limited his every move, as it did with everyone else as well. But he felt like he was particularly imprisoned. Maybe it was so, maybe it wasn’t.
And maybe he should’ve appreciated time when he had it in his control, when it was in his hands, maybe he should’ve used it properly.
But saying maybe time and time again won’t change anything.
And maybe that’s what made everything so painful.
Maybe the fluidity of time was what made things hard and maybe, just maybe, everything deserved to get a punch in the gut via time.
Raindrops, cars driving by, wind howling, traffic lights changing, police sirens, laughter and various other miscellaneous noises was NYC in its full glory. All these things and more, yet he couldn't find it in himself to give a damn. He just wanted to sleep, to fade into total darkness for a second or two and slip away. To simply escape the ugly world that was his reality.
He let out a fast, ragged breath. His reddened eyes shot open. For the past three hours, he had been trying to fall asleep, failing over and over again to do so. Even if he did "fall asleep", he'd be half awake the entire time, still aware of his surroundings and instead of being in a calm slumber, he was simply pissed as ever. He decided it was time to stop trying to beat insomnia for the day and get up to face it.
He rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the fragile, feather-like light that shone through the half-closed blinds that were falling apart. He was too lazy to replace them, so there they sat, awkwardly dangling downward. He got up in all his naked glory (sleeping naked was a habit of his), pulling on some underwear and a camo green hoodie.
He searched for his phone, basically ripped it out of the charger upon finding it and checked the time. It was barely seven in the morning. Just great, mornings were great. Mornings were just harsh reminders about how no matter what you do, it all ends up back in the same situation, as sun rises and your worries come back. Because relief and safety were only temporary feelings.
A loud groan escaped his mouth as he got up, feeling his back ache from the bad position he had been torturing himself in for too long. He checked his instagram, scrolling mindlessly and being careful not to like any posts. People would try to draw conclusions as they often liked to do, more often ending up being wrong than not. Even if it was just a post about a damn cat. (Last time he made the mistake, he received a lot of... fun and not so fun direct messages.)
He was smiling half-heartedly at a picture of a dog when his eyes spotted a loading video with a thumbnail picture that looked a bit too much like him five years ago.
His heart rate was picking up speed, because deep down he had a feeling it wasn’t good. Of course it wasn’t good. Was anything ever good? Yet he dared to possess a hint of hope, not too big, not too small, but enough for him to not to die of suspicions.
He nervously tapped on the square, soon the sound of his (kind of high-pitch) voice filling the deserted, echo-prone room.
He was sitting in a v.i.p lounge, a blunt in his hand, the neatly rolled intoxicant burning slowly and close to falling to the ground and a drink loosely held in the other. His eyes were red and his voice coming out slurred. The place was dimly lit, but the facial features of the young actor could be seen clear as day. There couldn’t be any confusion of who the person was.
A boy stood next to him, trying to get him to go home. He told him that he couldn't be served anymore, as he was too intoxicated already and it would be safer to go home. Chanyeol looked angry, about to slap the boy, hadn't it been for the strong grip of his co-actor, who was trying to drag him away by then.
"Fucking f*ggot, get your whore hands off of me. You gay piece of shit, disgusting cocksucker, don't ever touch me again, or I swear I'll fucking kill you."
The video cut off, leading Chanyeol to stand frozen in a shocked state. He had completely forgotten that he had ever acted like that. Ever. He couldn't believe he had said that to someone. Not even when he was clearly intoxicated. God, he felt terrible.
He felt the meal he ate yesterday (an extremely filling poptart and a bottle of diet coke, very healthy) trying to work it's way up his throat. Before he could see all the comments hating on him (he couldn’t blame them; he hated himself too), the sound of his phone buzzing was heard as a name flashed across his screen.
MANAGER
DON'T ANSWER
ACCEPT | DECLINE
"What do you want, Hakyeon?" his deep voice asked. It was hoarse and croaky from all the "sleeping" he had done. He might've gotten around twenty minutes of sleep, at best. New personal record.
"I presume you've seen the video. Get your ass in the office we have shit to talk about. Don't even think about not coming or I will personally castrate you, and you know better than to think I’m kidding," the man said icily, ending the lovely call, leaving Chanyeol no chance but to obey. His manager had always been very straightforward about these things, and he himself had always been very keen to avoid conflict.
He pulled on some pants and a pair of sunglasses. Hakyeon had texted him and told him a car would be waiting for him. He really wanted the lanky actor there as fast and unseen as possible.
Soon enough, Chanyeol was standing in front of a decently tall skyscraper, ready to hear Hakyeon's lecture on why what he did was wrong and how he had to swear he'd never do shit like that again.
Chanyeol huffed as he waited for the man in the lobby, getting stank looks from some of the vocally queer staff, and other decent enough human beings that realized he’d been a douche as well. He sent them an apologetic smile. He was so ashamed of his younger self, no doubt about it. Who wouldn’t be? His insides felt like jelly and his brain felt like cotton.
As he was engaging in an awkward stare-off, the sound of Hakyeon clearing his throat cut off the competition (did that mean he lost?).
"Come inside, you have some explaining to do," the pissed manager deadpanned, practically pulling the other man in and locking the door.
"You've seen the video, I’ve seen the video. Now I'll give you ten seconds to explain yourself and then we'll talk about the consequences," Hakyeon stated, hands resting on the surface of his office table.
"I don't know. I was dumb and young, not that that makes it any better. I don't know what I was thinking. It makes me sick, too. I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry," Chanyeol muttered, switching on the cute-mode that he hated using, hoping he'd get even the slightest bit of pity from his manager. Not that he deserved it.
"While it's sort of nice that you apologized to me, it doesn't count or matter at all. Because I’m not the one you should be apologizing to! Because that was a really shit thing to do and now we're going to all suffer from this. This is bad, Chanyeol. Really bad. I don't care if it was five years ago or yesterday, it's still terrible. It doesn’t change the fact that those words are hurtful and they’re used to degrade people. I hope you’re ashamed, I hope you lose sleep. In this is just the humane part, the other part is the part concerning your career. This is a huge dent on your image and our image as a company. You do understand that you have to make a public statement, right? Or we could wait until all the fuzz dies out, but you'd still have a bad reputation and remain hated by many. So the way I see it, you'll be giving out a statement, okay?" Hakyeon rubbed his temples. When he accepted his job, he never thought he'd have to deal with stuff like that. He never saw Chanyeol as the type to publicly yell out slurs at innocent people. And the Chanyeol now wouldn't. The both of them knew that, Hakyeon knew the highlights and shadows of his story that lead him to become the shell of a man he had become. But the Chanyeol five years ago was a completely different story. He was a mess that couldn’t be cleaned, but that wasn’t enough of an excuse.
"I understand," Chanyeol nodded, fiddling with his long fingers. His head was starting to hurt and all he could think of was how much he deserved it. He deserved to hurt like the boy he had yelled at probably had.
“Of course there’s always the option of lying and saying it wasn’t you, but that’s not how we work. If you fuck up, you fix it,” Hakyeon huffed out. Chanyeol didn’t dare to look him in the eye.
"I know you're not homophobic, Chanyeol, but the rest of the world doesn't. They should know. We've done some research, and according to the survey we did, a big percentage of your audience is a part of the lgbt+ community. This means that about eighty percent of your fans would drop you if something doesn't get done.
This being said, I think it would be reasonable or at the very least considerable for you to get a boyfriend. Of course that's only a fake one, contracts involved and all. Either you find one and bring him to me in the next seventy-three hours or I'll pick out one for you myself." And with that he walked out, once again not leaving any time for Chanyeol to oppose.
Fake boyfriend it was, then.
☾
Chanyeol kicked the ground, most of his anger aimed at himself and the rest at the entire universe in general. Just when his career was starting to get on the rise yet again, some old video pops up and ruins everything. It's frustrating, to have everything you worked so hard for to crumble because of your past.
And all he could think was how much he deserved it.
An apology letter was already posted on all of his social media platforms, most of his fans understanding that he was no longer the same person as he was in the video. He loved his fans, he found them amazing and empowering. But sadly, everyone wasn't as amazing and understanding as his fans. Yet he didn't let that faze him too much, after all it was to be expected.
A cigarette in his mouth, Chanyeol took a deep drag of the roll full of nicotine (and thousands of other chemicals). He thought about all the times he'd fucked up in life. How every single time before he had something or someone to rely on. Like another spelling bee for him to practice for or another morning to wake up to or seeing the sun again. But not now. Not this time. Now all he had to rely on was a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, his cynical outlook in life, and his bed. Honestly speaking, it could be much worse.
He felt like his brain got put into a blender, and the brain smoothie got fed to a dog who shat it out on a flower bench.
He doesn't usually smoke, only when he's way stressed or feels like celebrating (only then he smokes cigars).
Soon he found himself with only the butt of the cigarette left, stomping it on the ground before pushing himself off of the building he had been leaning on.
His eyes scanned the crowd. No one looked remarkably interesting. Everyone looked grey. Everyone looked the same, everyone looked like robots. Chanyeol shuddered at the thought, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Was he like that too? You're not a robot, Chanyeol , he convinced himself. What was he then? Did he think he was better than everyone else?
Just then a ring from his phone interrupted Chanyeol's existential crisis. He answered the call without looking at the ID, already knowing who it was. No one else wanted to contact him.
"Come on, Channie boy, your time is up and I have a candidate or two here for you. Well, only one, so you’ll have to settle. Actually, he's not here yet, but I need you to show up beforehand so we don't look like idiots. Get your butt here in an instant," Hakyeon smiled through the sentence (Chanyeol could hear, he knew the other male too well), hanging up soon after.
Chanyeol started making his way to the familiar building, mind still stubbornly in the gutter. He could've avoided all of this simply just by not being a dumbass. Wasn’t that supposed to be an easy task?
He was cursing at his feet before he bumped into someone.
"What the fuck, watch where you're going!" He heard a sudden annoyed voice and a long string of colorful cuss-words. Some of which he had never even heard before.
He looked up, seeing a boy who couldn't exactly be called ugly. The word was the exact opposite of what he was, actually.
What a cliché, how he found the one by bumping into him. Well, he could've bumped into anyone and be satisfied enough, so maybe a term like "the one" doesn't fit here. Since after all, isn't “the one” meant to be the one you love and cherish, the one you’re willing to protect all your life? This boy was just going to be the one he was going to stand, the one he thought was good enough.
"Hey, I'm sorry, this is really crazy and most certainly very idiotic, but I'm going to need you to follow me and ask you to not hit me. I know you have no reason to trust me, but please? Cool, thanks." Chanyeol didn't even wait for a response, instead dragging the boy along, the shorter male struggling to keep up with his long strides.
"Slow down, I have shorter legs than you!"the male complained, his wrist tight in Chanyeol's hold.
"Oh, sorry," Chanyeol grinned out, loosening his grip on the other's wrist, but not completely letting go, as he was too afraid that he'd run off. To his luck, he didn’t.
Chanyeol looked around, making sure no one saw him pull the male inside the tall building he had exited seventy-some hours before.
Walking some more, Chanyeol guided them into the staff bathroom, locking the door.
"Hi, I take what I said back. You may scream at me and slap and/or hit me now," Chanyeol breathed out, suddenly thinking about whether he brushed his teeth in the morning or not.
"I won't hit you, but that's only because my friend likes your movies," the man shrugged, taking his wrist slowly back from the tall actor. He didn’t look all too excited to be standing there. Chanyeol didn’t blame him.
"Oh, yeah, sorry," he said, referring to the wrists of the man. He felt bad upon seeing the red fingerprints present on the smooth skin. He frowned.
"It's fine. Why did you drag me here anyway?" The male was leaning against the door, looking the taller man straight in the eye. Chanyeol gulped. How was he supposed to start explaining?
"Well, I kinda need a favor? But don't worry, I'll pay you in return," Chanyeol replied, struggling under the intense gaze of the other.
"Wait, hold up. Do I look like a sex worker to you? Because I'm not, and will be doing no such things, especially with a person like you- don't think I didn't see the video, Park! You sick pervert, you really are fucked in the head, I can’t believe you!" his temper was rising slowly but surely, and Chanyeol was just kind of standing there awkwardly.
"No! Not at all! Listen, please listen to me. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend, please, I'll give you five million dollars!" Chanyeol exclaimed, getting desperate. That might've been a tad bit over budget.
"I'm not some fucking object to be bought, Chanyeol Park, and I won't have any more of this," the small feisty man sassed out, unlocking the bathroom door and marching out all in the course of a few seconds.
"Wait, uh-" Chanyeol blanked. He had officially never felt so awkward before.
"Unbelievable. You don't even know my name, and there you were so ready to give me five million to blow you!" Suddenly the man looked a lot scarier than he did when Chanyeol had bumped into him.
"I wasn't bribing you to blow me-"
"Who said anything about bribing? You were planning to bribe me?!"
"No, what the hell? I just need you to fucking work with me here!"
"You don't even know my name, Willis!"
"My name isn't Willis you dumb turd."
"Neither is mine but you wouldn't know that since you never asked. Willis."
"Listen here you punk-"
"Chanyeol! What are you doing in the hallway screaming at this lovely young man. Speaking of him, I see you've met the candidate I picked out for you. His name is Baekhyun and he assured me he'd be perfect for this job." Oh great, his life couldn't be more of a joke, could it?
"Chanyeol? Are you paying attention? Let's get into my office to discuss the details!" Hakyeon said enthusiastically, the complete opposite of the other two males, who were actively trying to glare each other to their graves.
He concluded that his life was in fact a joke.