Super

32. fracture point

"You have a private bar?" Mark gasped.

Kai gave him a rare look mixed with superiority and exasperation, leaning against the counter and reaching for a glass already. "Of course, dude," he said. "He's loaded. All loaded guys have private bars."

"But it's, like—it's so cool!" Mark continued, almost jumping on the balls of his feet, unable to control his excitement. "You know who else has a private bar? On the roof? Tony freaking Stark."

Baekhyun frowned. "Isn't that a character from Game of Thrones?"

The boy slewed around to face him, face a mask of nameless horror. "You didn't just say that."

"I know." Baekhyun grinned suddenly, dropping him a playful wink before walking past him into the expanse of the rooftop bar. "I was just messing with you. Hey, Shao," he said in a mock-whisper as he reached the girl, who had made a beeline for the massage chairs the moment the doors of the elevator had opened. "Who's Tony Stark?"

"Baekhyun!" Mark exclaimed from behind him.

"Kidding again."

"Good," Shao said, reclining against the back of the chair with the aura of someone in a spa. Her eyes were slitted, more in relaxation than in annoyance. "Because if you didn't know who that was, I would have had to throw you off the roof."

Baekhyun smiled at her, confused, and Mark turned to Taeyong, pressing his lips together to suppress his amazement. "He has a private bar."

"Yes, I can see that," Taeyong said, smiling, but he looked distracted. The bar was built according to an exceptionally good taste, with high walls like gold and the lack of obstruction at the front, exposing the skyline of Capitol City to the ring of couches that formed a semicircle in the depressed floor in the center. The sides of the bar glinted with chrome gold, and the dying sunlight sparked off the bottles like the rays from a sun god's crown.

Taeyong climbed down the steps that led towards the ring of couches, intending to go towards Shao, but stopped as he realized that his prospective seat was occupied. Baekhyun was on the chair next to Shao's, and they were both laughing at something Taeyong wish he knew, looking like two peas in a pod. Taeyong paused, hesitating, suddenly unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. Baekhyun had stopped laughing, but a warm smile still curled his lips as he looked at her; Taeyong watched as Shao punched him in the shoulder—pretty hard, from the looks of it—making Baekhyun wince, but the smile didn't fade.

He turned away with difficulty, glancing around the place for Mark. All of a sudden, he wanted someone to talk to—not about something, or even engage them in a proper conversation, but so he wouldn't seem alone anymore.

I never should've agreed to this, he thought to himself darkly, taking care not to have his inner emotions reflect on his face. The celebration had been Baekhyun's idea—they hadn't really achieved anything, but Baekhyun had insisted, saying that they needed to reward themselves for their efforts and developed teamwork.

Taeyong called bullshit. They just needed a reason to be happy, and Taeyong hated illusions of accomplishment. He wanted results, and didn't like relaxing before he got them, but he couldn't operate alone. He would never have come, but for the first time in his life, hadn't been able to say no. For some reason, he wanted to dislike Baekhyun for all of it—his unpretentious affection, his unending optimism, his unfailing ability to lead, but he couldn't. Taeyong hadn't come to the party because he needed a reason to be happy, but because he had recognized that Baekhyun was aware of how the team had felt.

He wished he could do that.

Taeyong backtracked quickly, going back up the stairs and towards the bar. Kai and Ten seemed to be playing some sort of drinking game, and Kai, despite his history as a clubber, was going red in the fact fast. Taeyong raised an eyebrow, smiling in amusement as Ten shot him a knowing glance, before grabbing a champagne flute from the counter and heading towards the open.