#you people have done irreversible damage to one of the best songs ever produced by sega

[laugtherhyena]

Sometimes i get the urge to violently bite and maim whoever decided to make Can you feel the sunshine a "creepypasta song"

[exobyharu]

PCY - Ch2

Chapter 2: Sometimes, it works that way

(Part 1)...(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)

Summary: Chanyeol vs the world and Chanyeol vs himself, featuring his well-planned attempts at damage-control. You don’t make it too easy for him.

⏰ 11:12 AM 🌏 Hotel (S), City of (L), but you transferred to the 38th floor now 🌤 Sunny, summer morning, and it’s almost as sunny as Chanyeol’s mood 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Kim Jongin (mentioned), Kim Junmyeon (mentioned), Chanyeol’s sister (mentioned)

Notes: This is part 2 of my PCY series. Hope some of you like it! He’s much nicer (to you) now, at least at the end (sort of). PCY may have dropped a couple of curse words here and there, but that’s all I have to warn you about. PCY says he’s sorry!

Words: ~1,900

💙💙💙

Chanyeol hated it, that his new composition was turned down yet again, by their over-qualified and impossible-to-please producers at SM Entertainment because, for probably the fourth time this month, it’s about time you stopped making your lack of experience show in your love songs, no matter how heartfelt you think your lyrics are.

He also hated it, that his sister borrowed his Mercedes Benz without permission, and only called to inform him that she had unintentionally defaced it once again by crashing it against a tree – and it’s even the same tree as last time.

Jongin also left a voice message earlier that evening to tell Chanyeol that he had misplaced the keys to the private studio. But it’s okay and there’s no need to panic because the interns and some staff members volunteered to help me look for it. Jongin apologised for always losing and breaking his senior’s belongings and promised that he won’t let anything like that happen again. Newsflash: Chanyeol hated his promises too.

When all of that happened in a span of three hours, along with Baekhyun’s persistent calling and mindless whining as the sweet cherry on top, it was only last night that Chanyeol finally discovered how things would blow up.

There’s a distinction between a bad mood and an ill temper, he would constantly remind himself. There is a limit to what behaviour is acceptable. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that he forgot to give himself the pep talk recently. This was why his adviser’s worst nightmare finally came true: Last night, on the balcony of this suite room, Chanyeol abandoned all caution, emptied himself of patience, and mindlessly acted on his frustrations as if the world owed him a proper outburst.

The rapper was weak on his knees when he remembered how he lost his shit and ended up taking it out on whom he thought was one of their group’s obsessive fans. What made it worse was that you apparently turned out to be an unsuspecting stranger who was not even up to anything remotely intrusive. Chanyeol was certain that whatever transpired from last night’s interaction with you was most probably typed out already, in some group chat or online page and it was only a matter of hours before his phone was ringing to a call from his enraged manager or worse, from Junmyeon, who always preferred to express his brotherly concern by packaging it as a mouthful of obscenities instead.

Much like last night, Chanyeol spent the early hours of the day, collapsed on the suite’s ridiculously oversized bed, pondering and unable to think of answers for his life’s profound existential questions.

How many ex-girlfriends did he need on his badge to write a love song that would pass SM’s extensive quality control? What kind of genius did Jongin have to be in his past life to be so remarkably scatter-brained now? Bench presses were bench presses. How was he going to teach Baekhyun how to cheat on his reps when he, himself, never did? Most importantly, why was his sister such a terrible driver?

The whole process was mostly a one-way conversation with the luxurious finish of his suite room’s coffered ceiling because much like the answers he could not produce for himself, he had to accept that some things in general were simply beyond his control.

He could try to cut down that stupid tree, though. The dumb task was two bumper repairs overdue.

With newfound resolve, he also made sure that he spent the next few hours after his morning shower rehearsing the, albeit extra kind, words that he would use when explaining to his manager, to Junmyeon, or even to the company’s CEO, if you had managed to blow the whole thing out of proportion. When he called for room service to have breakfast delivered, he even inquired about how to send a massive bouquet of flowers to the occupant of the suite room beside his, simply because fuck ups like last night were not allowed to be in Park Chanyeol’s record. Ever.

About a few minutes later, a delicious tray of espresso waffles and sides finally arrived at his doorstep, along with a message that the suite room right beside his had been emptied just last night. It was at this moment upon hearing the hotel staff’s message about the female occupant transferring to another room, that the rotting sensation at the center of his chest returned in an instant. He ended up not eating much of his breakfast and crushing his face against the silk on his pillow seemed to be the best course of action instead.

This is all your fault, so you fix, he thought incoherently, hoping that blaming himself again brought more clarity. He thought back to last night, trying to remember how much he had told you and if it were truly enough to rile you up, prompt you to file a report, and transfer to another room.

He could not even recall if he said a couple of bad words or not.

Pursing his lips as he walked the tightrope in between discouragement and desperation, it did not take long for him to decide to give it a go and call the front desk. Even though he was familiar with hotel policies, and even though it was another item on his endless list of things that he hated, not to mention too much against his principles, it looked like he was willing to overlook the misuse of his VIP status to have his way just this once. It was promising that his phone had not buzzed since he had woken up, but the fact remained that it was now, or later, when irreversible damage was done and Dispatch was already camping out at the hotel lobby downstairs.

So he did as he rehearsed, and it was almost nauseating how it took too little effort to get the details that he wanted. Something in his gut roiled when he had to emphasise his name as if his identity were a badge that can be used to proclaim himself qualified to make such a special request. Your full name, YN YLN, along with other personal details that he did not ask for, were disclosed to him without the need to impose or even lie. 

Nevertheless, he got what he needed and Chanyeol hoped that it was worth the brief moment of shamelessness. Again, he comforted himself that damage-control in itself was a pain in the ass. And even though hating himself for resorting to this method was even more exhausting, it had to be done in order to move forward with his plans of setting things straight.

Press 0, and then after the beep, 3815.

He did not expect it, but it plunged his nerves into a state of panic when he started dialling your room number. Maybe he was afraid of you and what you had to say -  more specifically, about how many of your friends already knew about last night’s exchange. Were you even going to speak to him? Did he even want to speak to you? The compromise was to put the phone down after five rings and send the damn flowers instead.

You answered exactly after four long rings. “Hello?”

“Yah!” he yelled, the couple of rehearsed lines he had prepared, instantly forgotten. “Why’d you move?!” His nerves pretty much took over and Chanyeol knew that he was not angry. It was beyond him if this distinction was not clear to you.

Still, your voice on the other end of the line remained impeccably calm. “Um, may I know who this is?”

“It’s Chanyeol.” In his years of performing in front of cameras and audiences, the rapper had never thought that introducing himself could elicit so much frustration.

You paused. “…I’m sorry?”

“You don’t remember last night?!” he yelled again. Immediately, the distant sound of his own voice made him cringe. It was an effort to ignore how it reverberated inside the room. He tried to clarify much more kindly now, but his attempt gloriously failed the moment he started. “It’s Chanyeol! Sexual Fantasies, Park Chanyeol!”

Your sigh that followed was a bit over-dramatic and it looked like he had done it again. “I know, okay?! I mean I know it’s you! You made last night pretty hard to forget, and I don’t mean it the way other girls in your head do. I was just unsure about apologising because you’re the one who explicitly told me to stay out of your way.” You were clearly getting worked up and it was too bad, because so was he.

“And you really thought I meant that?!”

“I still think that, seeing that you wouldn’t stop yelling at me! I only transferred to make the both of us happy, okay?”

“Do I sound happy to you?!” It was not a pleasant feeling to hear you sigh after every sentence because he realised that it was no longer just his reputation on the line. Chanyeol was not called the Happy Virus for nothing and he genuinely felt that he was putting down a lot of people by causing someone else’s distress. Ironically, this infuriated him even more. “You didn’t have to change your room and I’m not happy that you did!”

“Then that makes only me.” Your voice from the other end was dismissive and dripping with contempt. “Looks like your day will suck, Mr. Park, but please, let me enjoy mine.”

“Yah! Don’t put the phone down!”

“Seriously, Chanyeol, what do you want from me?!”

“Just stop hating!”

“I will if you leave me alone!”

“It doesn’t work that way!”

At this point, the conversation became all about talking over the other. It took a few more out of the both of you before Chanyeol realised what an idiot he had been for the past two minutes. Stress had really done a number on him lately.

Relax.

Catching his breath in the brief silence that ensued, he allowed his pride to crumble in the name of ending all this bullshit between the two of you. He was just tired, more than anything else. Releasing the tightness on his throat, he modulated his voice to suit the tone that he would effortlessly use when speaking to a fan – or his mother.

“Just… meet up with me, will you? There’s this café at the top floor.”

“No thanks. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“What stuff?”

“Stuff that’s none of your business, obviously.”

Your answer made him press a hand to his forehead. You mean stuff that’s non-existent, obviously, he thought with a roll of his eyes. What kind of idiot did you think he was? Though it did not look like much on paper, he decided that all the painful overthinking and planning had already gotten him this far and it was impossible for him to take no for an answer.

“Tonight then? I’ll be there by 7.”

“No, Chanyeol. I won’t be there.”

“That’s great! I’ll wait for you.”

And then he hung up the phone too soon, which was his underhanded way of making sure that you did not have the change to decline any further. What he did was almost rude, but Chanyeol promised to make up for his bad manners tonight instead. Even though he would not consider the conversation a step towards the redemption of his ruined first impression, if he got you to show up, he was sure to not waste his chance. Now, all he had to do was figure out what stunt he was going to pull off in order to make up for being a stupid shit last night.

💙💙💙 - to be continued -