error 404 title not found (hendery x y/n)

Chapter Four

Author's Note: Dear Irene. 

You are insufferable.

Think of it like this: Chenle and Jisung are aged down to fetus level, '97-'00 liners are their current ages, Y/N is either twelve or eighteen, but either way we are not catching cases because apparently the law enforcement does not exist. Taeyong's way too old for you and also most likely gay. Kun is str*aight. Johnny's immortal. The other people who have not been introduced yet will be spoken of whEN INTRODUCED-

Okay thank you read the stories 10velys :))

You sigh again, looking around at the bathroom. It's ridiculous. The entire place is ridiculous.

The shower has multiple jets and flowery products in bounds. You turn it on, and choke as a jet springs to life and hits you in the face.

Blindly feeling your way towards the handle, you turn it down a notch and sigh with relief. "That wasn't fun," you say aloud, then feel stupid. Nobody can hear you.

With that thought you nervously glance around. No serial killers hiding behind that rack of towels. You enjoy the water briefly, before washing your hair. Then you turn the shower off. You grab one of the fluffy white towels and dry yourself off. You wrap it around you and grab another to twist up your hair. The mirrors have fogged over, and you use your hand to clear a section. As suspected, your face is flushed red like a drunk old man.

You wince as a blast of cold air hits you in the face. Your suitcase is next to the bed, and you flip through it, cursing Hendery for not giving you enough time to pack the damn thing.

You toss on a tank top and find your sweatpants, making a face as they stick to your damp legs. The door slides open and Yangyang's standing there holding a steaming tray of food. Meanwhile, you're still doing the weird mating-dance looking thing, trying to get the right pant leg to unstick from your foot.

He looks dead into your eyes and you trip over you foot.

"Is right now not a good time?"

"Eh. Could've been worse."

You straighten up and brush off your shirt, then toss on the sweatshirt Yangyang gave you. "By the way, I hope you didn't have a strong attachment to it. Because it's gone forever and I'm never returning it."

He flashes a thumbs up. "Cool, cool." He makes his way over to you and sets down the platter, which holds two plates of Jjajangmyeon covered with black beans, and a bowl of strawberries with whipped cream. Not the stuff from an aerosol can, either. 

"Interesting combination you've got there."

Yangyang shrugs. "I think I discovered it when Chenle was being fussy. He loved it for some reason."

"Chenle? A picky eater?" You ask.

"Yeah. It was a bear to feed him. He wouldn't eat anything. Drove us all mad. A dozen or more people at a time, desperately trying to get him to eat something. Chaos. Then we tried feeding him fancy food instead of the baby food and soy milk formulas, and what'd you know, the kid's Gordon Ramsey."

You laugh. "I can't imagine. Chenle being anything other than an absolute angel."

Yangyang also laughs, taking a seat on the couch. "Let me tell you." He sighs eyes looking haunted. "Chenle baobao- he may act like an angel, but he's a devil in disguise." You let out a snort.

"What?! It's true!" His body language is maniacal, running his hands through his hair to transform it into Chenle's middle part. "'Jiejie jiejie, you'll carry me, right?'" in perfect imitation.