Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dry, cracked earth is bathed in golden light as the sun slowly begins descending below the horizon. Hyunjin admires how sunrays filter through clouds of dust kicked up by the departing train. He feels like sitting there on the platform and studying them for a while, but he really should get going before it gets dark.

“How far is the nearest town?” he asks the station attendant.

“There’s a wagon leaving for Jay Park soon,” the man replies. “If you wanna get anywhere tonight, I suggest you get on it.”

So Hyunjin does. The wagon ride is cheap and mostly devoid of other passengers. There’s a young woman and an older man, both of whom seem entirely disinterested in conversation. That’s fine with Hyunjin, he wants to admire the view anyway. He leans back on his suitcase and takes off his hat and tugs his coat a little tighter around himself, hoping it doesn’t get too much colder before they arrive in Jay Park.

It’s not a bad ride. A little rough, maybe, with the wagon’s rickety wooden wheels careening over every bump in the barely-worn road. Hyunjin still appreciates it. He’s had worse rides. He’s also had a few uncomfortably cold nights under the open sky. 

Jay Park must be a real backwater, Hyunjin thinks, but at least it’s a destination.

The view starts to fade as dusk settles over the desert, but Hyunjin is a little bored of it anyway. Other than wide-open land and sparse, half-dead shrubs and scrubby trees, there isn’t a lot to see. 

Which is why Hyunjin immediately notices the rundown train car sitting abandoned a mile out of town. Hyunjin perks up, squinting against the dark to make out the shape better. As far as he can tell, it’s just a lone railcar.

That’s so weird. There’s not even a railroad this close to the town. 

Curiosity, or maybe boredom, gets the better of him, and he leans toward the front of the wagon to ask, “How’d that boxcar get there?”

The wagon driver shrugs. 

Hyunjin sits back. “Never mind.”

With that, the metropolis of Jaypark unfurls ahead. The wagon stops just beyond the town, letting off its passengers without so much as a farewell.

Hefting his little trunk, Hyunjin starts into town.

~~~

There’s got to be less than fifty people living in this town. From what Hyunjin can see, there’s a post office, a sheriff’s station, and a saloon that doubles as a general store. Everything else is residential, and there’s not much of it.

The buildings sit close together, some of them two stories with wrap-around balconies that remind Hyunjin of home. Signs of life are few and far between. Gaslights twinkle in a few windows and some men lounge on their porches, smoking or playing cards. Still, it seems like most of this town goes to bed early.

Which is why Hyunjin immediately notices the squirrely-looking kid that’s yelling at the sheriff outside the saloon. Hyunjin can’t see the kid’s face, but he sounds pissed.

“What are you, scared?” the kid shouts, hand twitching towards the gun at his hip. “Go on! Shoot me!”

Oh damn. Hyunjin ducks behind the saloon’s porch rail, wide eyes trained on the kid’s back tracing every jerky movement. He wasn’t planning on getting hit by a stray bullet before he’s even found a place to stay.

But the sheriff just sighs. “I’m not gonna do that,” he says calmly, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You can’t, huh!?” The kid is like a coiled spring, practically vibrating with pent-up tension. “You don’t have the guts!”

“Look, we can just talk about this—”

“Talk!?” The kid scoffs. “If you don’t wanna fight, fine! I’ll give you something to fight about!”

Another guy, taller and slimmer, steps out behind the sheriff. “Oh, this again?” the new guy asks, reaching for his own gun. 

The sheriff doesn’t explain, he just shakes his head. “Look,” he says again, “there’s nothing worth fighting about here. Why don’t you let me help you out, yeah? And we can move on from there?”

The kid looks taken aback. For a second, Hyunjin thinks he might actually calm down. Instead, he spits into the dirt, turns on his heel, and bolts around the corner.

Right into Hyunjin.

“Ow!” Hyunjin stumbles back. The kid recoils, cursing, and Hyunjin looks up to see a glare and an eyepatch but in a blink the kid has high-tailed it in the opposite direction. 

Hyunjin shakes his head. What the Hell was that about?

“Oh, come on,” the sheriff whines, startling Hyunjin back to reality. “That really wasn’t necessary!”

“Just let him go,” the other guy sighs, breath fogging in the cold air. “You don’t need to adopt every stray kid that shows up in the sticks.”

Slowly, Hyunjin comes out from his place behind the porch rail, picking his suitcase back up. The sheriff is still complaining, taking off his hat and running a hand through already-messy black hair. He looks a lot younger than Hyunjin realized.

“It’s—don’t call it ‘the sticks,’ Seungmin, that’s mean. And I was just offering to help him!”

“Yeah, he seemed to like that. Want me to chase him down? I’m sure he’d like to be chased down, too.”

“If you’re not going to provide serious suggestions, you can go home early. Yeah. Bye, Seungmin.”

The other guy, Seungmin, starts up the porch steps when he finally catches sight of Hyunjin. He pauses, frowning. “Can I help you?”

Hyunjin opens his mouth, but the sheriff interrupts him.

“Oh no, did you see all that? I’m sorry about all the racket, it was just a . . . misunderstanding. Did you need something from us?”

“Uh . . .” Hyunjin’s brain takes a second to catch up. “I . . . need a room?”

The sheriff grins, extending a hand. “Well, we can definitely help with that. I’m Chris, I’m the sheriff around here.”

Hyunjin accepts the handshake. “I’m Jinnie.”

Chris smiles a friendly, dimpled smile. “Nice to meet you, Jinnie. Our saloon takes boarders, but I have a spare room myself that won’t cost you anything.”

Seungmin snorts. “Except your sanity.” He heads into the saloon, taking off his hat and waving it at Hyunjin dismissively. “I’m the deputy. Have a nice night.” 

“Don’t mind him,” Chris says, “he gets crabby when he’s tired. So, how about that room?”

~~~

The sheriff seems like a genuinely nice guy. While they walk to his house, he doesn’t ask many questions. He just pitches the standard “what are doing in a little town like Jay Park” and “how long do you plan on staying,” both of which Hyunjin evades without much trouble.

“Well, you can keep the room as long as you need,” Chris replies easily, clapping Hyunjin on the shoulder. “Here we are. Don’t mind the mess, please, I didn’t think we’d have company.”

The sheriff’s house is nothing special; it’s actually kind of rundown. Chris hangs his hat and coat up by the door, so Hyunjin follows his lead and does the same. Everything in the entryway is dusty and slightly cluttered. It could use some decor besides the coat rack.

Looks like somewhere a single man would live, he thinks. But at least it’s clean.

“It’s nice,” Hyunjin says politely. “You live alone?”

“I’ve got one more roommate,” Chris replies. “His name is Bin. He’ll be home later tonight. This way, here we go.”

They pass through a small sitting area, a door that leads back to a kitchen, and the staircase that leads up to the attic bedroom. Chris hands his oil lamp to Hyunjin and opens the door.

“It’s actually not too cold up here in the winter,” Chris says. “Hopefully it’s comfortable enough. There’s a key, I’ll have to go downstairs again to find it—anyway. Have a look around, get settled. I’ll pour you a drink if—hey, have you eaten?”

Hyunjin puts a hand on his stomach. “Uh, no.”

“I’ll find something for you. Come down whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Sheriff,” Hyunjin says, trying his best  to look Chris in the eye when he says it. “I appreciate it.”

A smile light up Chris’s face, dimples reappearing. “You don’t have to call me ‘Sheriff,’ just Chris is fine. And you’re welcome.” He disappears back down the stairs.

Hyunjin sighs. He sets down his suitcase and glances around the lamplit room, taking stock of it now that he’s alone. Homey is the right word for it. It’s small, it’s furnished, and it’s free. That’s enough for him.

There’s a window at the far end of the room, a small bed and nightstand against one wall, and a dresser. A faded, once-colorful rug is laid out along the floor. 

In a few minutes, Hyunjin has unpacked what few belongings he has, taking extra care to stash his money. Even if he is in the sheriff’s house, he’d rather be safe than sorry. Especially with that amount of money. He leaves his sketchbook, journal, and pencils on the dresser, not bothering to hide them.

As he takes a seat on the bed, Hyunjin’s mind and body start to catch up with him. He’s stiff from the long train ride in from Barstow, where the seats were too close together for him to stretch his legs. It was a nice trip though, looking out at the undisturbed expanse of the desert. It was peaceful. The wagon ride into town, too, was quiet and peaceful. But then there was all that noise from the kid with the eyepatch.

That whole thing was weird. Really weird.  

The guy was asking for a fight, a real fight, and the sheriff just brushed him off. The deputy, too. Hyunjin can’t remember ever seeing a sheriff act like that.

Actually, the town is completely unremarkable, but Chris isn’t. He might be the first person who’s ever offered Hyunjin a place to stay so readily. Everywhere else he’s been, Hyunjin has been ripped off, intimidated, or ignored. And Chris offered him a room in his own house. Immediately. For free . It’s almost suspicious.

Oh, Hyunjin realizes, he’s trying to keep an eye on me. I’m the suspicious one.

He shouldn’t be surprised or even offended, but he kind of is. It was nice to think for a second that people could be generous and open-minded. But taking Chris at face value would be naïve. And since he left home, Hyunjin has tried hard not to be naïve.

He huffs a sigh, rubbing his face. Oh well. It’ll just be for a few days, until he figures out some other place to wander to.

~~~

Chris is waiting downstairs with a plate of leftovers and a mug of hot water with lemon. Hyunjin would be lying if he said he wasn’t starving. Whatever resentment lingers from his little self-reflection is quickly forgotten in favor of the hunger pangs in his stomach.

“Does the room seem alright?” Chris asks while Hyunjin stuffs his mouth.

“Mmhmm,” he says between bites, “it’s good.”

“Good.” Chris nods. His eyes roam conspicuously over Hyunjin’s face. “Can I ask, how old are you?”

Ironic, coming from a baby-faced sheriff. Hyunjin allows himself a smile. “You first.”

“Twenty-two,” Chris replies. “I got elected as sheriff two years ago. Well, basically sheriff. You know how things are out here, nothing’s quite official.”

“Mm. Yeah. Is Jaypark even big enough to have a mayor?”

Chris makes a face sort of like a grimace. “Well, no. We’re barely a town. We have a small council, it’s pretty . . . democratic, I guess.”

Hyunjin nods, “Sounds nice. Close-knit.” But his mind is working, trying to figure out what that means for him. A traveler passing through a close-knit place doesn’t have much chance of finding a reason to settle down. Not that he was considering that in the first place.

“Your turn,” Chris says after a moment.

Hyunjin glances up, confused. 

Chris has a knowing sort of look on his face, one dark eyebrow quirked up. “The second half of this transaction. How old are you?”

“Oh. Nineteen, almost twenty.” Hyunjin hopes that won’t lead to follow-up questions about his traveling plans 

But Chris plays fair. He just nods and hums. “Same age as my deputy,” he notes.

“Your deputy’s only nineteen?” 

“It’s not like we have a lot of eligible young men in Jay Park. Plus, it’s not like nineteen is that much younger than twenty-two.”

“Right.” 

The conversation fizzles as Hyunjin finishes his supper. It’s easier for him not to talk much. He’s out of his element in this random man’s kitchen.

Chris seems to pick up on that. He continues to talk idly, chatting about Jay Park and the weather and his roommate, straying away from asking Hyunjin any more questions. It helps fill in a few gaps about this place. 

Before long, Hyunjin’s plate is clean and his stomach is full. And so is his brain. It’s a lot of work, constantly traveling to unfamiliar places and having to adapt to unfamiliar people. He needs a break, and probably a good night’s sleep.

So he asks, “Mind if I head upstairs? I think I’ll turn in early.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Chris replies, wiping down the kitchen table. “Don’t let me keep you up. Anything else you need?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “Don’t think so.”

Chris smiles. “Alright. See you tomorrow, Jinnie.”

~~~

Flopping down on the attic bed, Hyunjin covers his eyes and groans. Drifting and vagrancy are always exhausting, but this podunk town has taken more out of him than normal.

Before he falls asleep, Hyunjin drags himself up and takes off all his dirty outer clothes. He realizes that he never got the key from Chris, but he doesn’t bother going back downstairs to get it.

Instead, he grabs his journal off the dresser and settles back down.

Most of Hyunjin’s journal entries end up being addressed, torn out, and mailed to his mother. It’s a way of working out his thoughts and sharing them with her in the very same action. It’s kept him sane as he’s traveled these last few months. It’s also kept him from being quite so lonely.

February 17th, 1897

Dear Mama,

Today, I made my way further west. You would like the scenery out here, it’s a real desert. It’s so dry and there’s barely any trees or plants for miles, but it makes you focus on how beautiful the sky is. And it’s not too cold during the day!

Tonight, I’m staying in a town called Jay Park. The sheriff here is barely older than me. He’s really nice and he’s letting me stay in his spare room. But he might be doing it because he doesn’t trust me. 

I’m not sure if I’ll like this town, but I haven’t seen much of it yet. I’ll find out more tomorrow I reckon. For now I’m just glad to have a roof over my head. 

Hyunjin considers writing more about his weird feelings and apprehensions about Jay Park, but he decides against it. And the kid with the eyepatch begging to be shot was interesting, but Hyunjin doesn’t write about that either. There’s only so much he can say without making his mother worry, and that’s the last thing he wants to do. 

I hope things are going okay at home with the business and the property. I know everything would only be more stressful if I was there. 

I’m sorry this letter is so short, but I’m falling asleep, so you’ll have to be patient and wait for the next one! If anything funny happens, you’ll be the first to hear. Or, you’ll hear about it as fast as the mail can bring you my letters. Which admittedly is not very fast, but I’ll still keep you posted.

With love,

Hyunjin

With a sigh, he flips his journal closed. Ordinarily, he’d read a poem or two before bed, but he lost his poetry book a few days back, hopping from one train station to the next. It’s important to have little routines even when you’re traveling. Hyunjin misses it.

He also really misses his mom. It’s been . . . ten months, almost. He writes to her practically every other day, but it’s not enough.

Alright, Jinnie, he thinks to himself, let’s dwell on that another night.

So he turns down the oil lamp and tucks himself under the faded quilt (which is actually quite comfortable), and goes to sleep.

~~~

It’s late when Changbin gets home. It’s always late when Changbin gets home. Even when The Saloon is dead and empty in the middle of the week, Lee Know never lets them close early. What a pain. 

Shutting the front door behind him, Changbin pauses to enjoy the warmth of the house. He takes his time pulling off his boots and shrugging out of his coat. As he goes to hang it up, he stops. An unfamiliar brown overcoat hangs next to Chris’s, where Changbin’s is supposed to go. There’s a hat, too.

Whose coat is that? he wonders. He takes it and moves it to the next hook over. It’s worn, but good quality. Someone paid a lot for it. That’s weird.

Changbin quickly hangs his coat and heads for the kitchen.

As usual, Chris is still awake. He’s dragged a chair up to the hearth, half-dozing with his feet up by the fire.

He glances lazily over at Changbin in the doorway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Changbin says, swatting Chris on the shoulder and pulling up a chair for himself. “What’s with the new coat? And the hat?”

“Huh?” Chris blinks. “Oh, new roommate. Or, houseguest.”

Of course. 

Changbin sighs, unbuttoning his vest and sinking down into the chair. “Should have known. Who is he?”

Chris tilts his head. “Don’t really know. He’s awfully quiet, but I think he’s just . . . guarded. His name is Jinnie.”

“Hm.” If Changbin had a nickel for every time Chris took in random guarded strangers, he’d have at least a couple of nickels. That’s not a lot, but it’s worth mentioning that it’s happened more than once. Usually, though, the random guarded strangers chose to stay somewhere other than the sheriff’s attic. “Cute name. Where’s he from?”

“Don’t know that either,” Chris replies, stretching tiredly. “Weird accent though. He’s definitely not from anywhere close to here.”

“Does he seem like he’ll stick around?”

Chris hesitates, eyebrows furrowing. “Maybe,” he admits. “Hard to tell. Nobody ever actually wants to stay in Jay Park. Anyone who’s here is here because they have to be.”

Changbin shrugs, “Look at me, I’m still here.”

“Yeah, well.” Chris smiles. “That doesn’t count because you were bedridden.”

“Just take the win.”

“Fine.” The conversation lulls for a moment as they both watch the fire. “How was work?”

“Even more boring than usual. Felly went up early, so I had the last couple hours alone.”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “Why’d she go up early?”

Changbin purses his lips. “‘Cause I told her to take the night off.”

A conspiratorial smile replaces Chris’s frown. “That’s so kind of you, Binnie, what made you do that?” 

“Ugh, grow up. I was just being nice.” Changbin smacks him on the arm. 

Chris chuckles and smiles, looking back at the fire. “Go to bed. You look tired.”

“Look who’s talking,” Changbin replies.

Neither of them bother to get up though, and before long, they both fall asleep in their chairs.

~~~

Hyunjin doesn’t know what he was expecting after last night’s introduction to the town, but there isn’t much to Jay Park. 

After waking up early (thanks to the uninhibited light of the sunrise glaring into the attic window at dawn), scarfing down a hot breakfast (courtesy of Chris, once again), and taking a bath (we won’t detail how badly he actually needed one), Hyunjin’s day begins with a very brief tour of the town.

Chris’s house is somewhere near the center. Close to it are the chapel, which doubles as a schoolhouse, and a bunch of other small homes. There’s a barn at the other edge somewhere, a barbershop that’s actually a person’s house and apparently also a “doctor’s” office, plus the saloon (which is actually named The Saloon) and sheriff’s station that Hyunjin saw yesterday. 

“I’ll bring you to The Saloon,” Chris says, “and then I’ve got things to do, unfortunately. But you’ll be in good hands! Bin, my other roommate, is the bartender.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin says, and then he feels like he should at least try to carry the conversation, so he also asks, “What’s he like?”

Chris grins as they climb The Saloon’s front steps. “Oh, he’s the best. He’s the nicest guy ever! And he’s hilarious. Like, he’s just a big softie . You probably would have met him this morning, but he had to get to work early.”

Hyunjin isn’t totally sure what to expect, but it sounds like Bin must be a real sweetheart.

Which is why Hyunjin’s jaw immediately drops when the guy behind the bar is the most knockout drop-dead stud of a man he’s ever seen. Like, the guy’s arms are the size of Hyunjin’s waist. He wears a dress shirt and a vest with a black apron tied at his waist. He’s built like a statue.

“Binnie!” Chris calls jovially, ushering Hyunjin forward. “Meet Jinnie, our current visitor.”

Bin glances up and smiles (wow his face is actually beautiful?), “Nice to meet you.” He extends a hand (wow look at his hands? Wait no don’t) which Hyunjin shakes as casually as possible.

“Nice to meet you too,” he says, clearing his throat.

“Can I get you anything?” Bin asks. “Your first drink is on the house.”

A voice from somewhere in the back yells “Stop giving away drinks!”

“I think it’s sweet when he gives them the first drink for free,” says a high southern drawl, and a young blonde woman walks around the bar—

Wait, no. A frankly stunning young blonde woman joins Bin behind the bar and smiles at Hyunjin, wide and with teeth. It’s a charming smile by itself, but it’s made even more devastating by the smattering of freckles dotting her cheeks. Hyunjin is not used to feeling this way. Certainly not when faced with the more effeminate sex. 

He realizes he’s stuck staring as the woman waits, extending a tiny hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Felly,” she says, “the barmaid.”

Pull yourself TOGETHER Hwang! Do something!

Hyunjin strives to smile and shake hands like a regular person. Damn, this town is waging some war on his brain. Not one, but TWO startlingly attractive people, working in the same place. He’s already starting to sweat. Good thing he took a bath this morning, huh? 

“I’m Jinnie,” he replies with effort. 

Felly just smiles. “What’re you doing in Jay Park, Jinnie?” 

“Just passing through, uh . . .” Hyunjin spares a glance at Chris, only to find an odd look passing between him and Bin. He looks back at Felly. “. . . I just got in last night.”

“Well then, welcome to town.” She nudges Bin’s arm, and he nods to Hyunjin.

“Let’s get you something to drink,” he says. “What about you, Chris?”

Chris shakes his head. “Nothing for me, I’ve gotta run. But,” he places a firm hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder, “be good to our new friend. I’ll be back later on, I’m sure.”

“He’ll be fine,” Felly says, waving Chris off. 

“Y’all take care now!” Chris calls, pushing the door open and stepping out of The Saloon.

While Bin pours him a drink, Hyunjin scans the room, taking in the surroundings he’s now (for all intents and purposes) stranded in. Something catches his eye looming through the back door. His eyes focus. It’s a face, staring at him.

“Shit!” Hyunjin startles, pushing against the bar with a yelp. The stool he is on is equally caught off guard, pitching backwards and tumbling Hyunjin onto the floor. 

Three sets of heads peer over the bar as Hyunjin frantically sits up. 

“What in the Hell was that! Did y’all see that? Do y’all have a ghost or something? ” Hyunjin runs a hand through his hair, eyes wide, puzzling through his paranormal encounter aloud. “Lord have mercy . I think I’ve witnessed an omen.”

He raises his gaze to the bar above his head. There’s the face again! Floating next to Felly and Bin! (If Hyunjin was more aware he’d make some crack about angels and devils, but as it stands he’s a bit preoccupied by the terrors.)

“THERE IT IS! RIGHT THERE!” Hyunjin flails back again, gesturing wildly up at the head. 

“Huh…” Bin frowns as he looks where Hyunjin is pointing. His confusion morphs to annoyance. “Oh, will you quit it? Lee Know, we have talked about this. I told you we needed to get him a bell!” 

That last part is directed at Felly, who’s made her way around the bar to help Hyunjin up. Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she fights to keep her expression neutral. 

Hyunjin blinks, realizing the spirit was no spirit at all. Oh. 

“You okay there?” Felly offers a soft smile alongside a hand up. Hyunjin is struck dumb once again (only this time not in fear). “Don’t worry about him, that’s just how he greets new people. He’s shy.” 

Hyunjin just nods as he takes her hand. He glances back at the specter, Lee Know, who is still staring blankly at him even as Bin gives him a whatfor about his behavior. What a . . . what a strange man.

His thoughts halt as he’s hauled to his feet without warning. Hyunjin had braced to pull himself off the floor, but he’s lifted largely by the strength of Felly herself. 

What on earth are they feeding these people?  

Now that he’s standing, Hyunjin is face to face with Lee Know. Fighting the urge to cringe, he takes in the man now smiling lazily at him. He actually does just look like a regular person. Like Bin, he’s dressed in good clothes under a plain apron.

“Sorry,” Lee Know looks at Bin, who nods. “It’s sort of a passion of mine to scare any of the new potentials that walk into this bar— ow!”

Bin’s nod has turned to a glare and a thrown elbow. 

 Lee Know rolls his eyes. He starts again, deadpan, “I am very sorry to have frightened you. As the proprietor of this establishment, it is my duty to make sure all the patrons feel welcome and cared for. I would like to issue a formal apology on behalf of The Saloon . . . Am I done? Did that make you happy?” 

  Bin does look happy, grinning at Lee Know like he’s won a round in poker. Felly looks amused too. This is clearly something that has occurred on more than one occasion, which makes Hyunjin feel considerably less embarrassed. But more than anything, he’s so confused (and if he is being honest, intrigued) by what exactly is going on in this town and all its weird people. 

Dusting himself off, Hyunjin carefully sits back down. “That’s uh, that’s okay. I probably needed a moment of existential fear, y’know? To build character.” 

“See?” Lee Know gestures at him, “This guy gets it. Now get him a drink, Binnie, I don’t pay you to do nothing.”

Bin scoffs. “I was getting him a drink before your ugly face got involved.” He shakes his head and gives Hyunjin a look, like, Can you believe this guy?

Needless to say, the whiskey is a relief.

~~~

Much to his own surprise, Hyunjin really enjoys his few hours at The Saloon. He’s actually more relaxed than he was this morning. Something about being scared-the-piss-out-of really puts you at ease once the shock is over. Puts things in perspective. The glass of whiskey helps with that too.

He spends much of his time chatting with Bin and Felly, but he also enjoys people-watching when the other regulars stop by The Saloon throughout the afternoon. His pencils and sketchbook are back in Chris’s attic, but Hyunjin makes a mental note to bring them next time so he can draw some of these characters. Especially Bin and Felly.

“No, no,” Bin is saying, “I’ve got a good one this time, I swear. Listen—”

“No, you’ve had enough chances,” Hyunjin cuts him off, fighting a smile. “No more.”

Bin whines, “Just listen!” For someone so tough-looking, the man knows how to pout. 

On the other end of the counter, Felly nods like, Just let him have it.

Hyunjin sighs. “Get it over with, then.”

“Okay, so two guys walk into a bar . . .”

Hyunjin meets Felly’s eyes. She covers her mouth and looks away, trying not to laugh.

“You’re not even paying attention,” Bin complains.

“Yes I am!” Hyunjin insists. “Are you telling the joke or not?”

Bin slams his hand down on the counter. “Damn right I am! Two guys walk into a bar! So the third guy ducks!”

. . . Huh? Hyunjin blinks.

Bin waits expectantly. Felly’s hand is still over her mouth. She’s shaking with the effort of holding in her laugh. Hyunjin frowns.

“I don’t get it,” he admits.

Bin’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

“Oh my God!” Felly gasps, descending into a fit of giggles.

“Are you being serious right now?” Bin repeats.

Hyunjin can’t help but laugh too. “Explain it to me!”

Throwing up his hands, Bin exclaims, “There is no explanation! Two guys walk into a bar, and the third guy ducks!”

“Where is the duck coming from?” Hyunjin exclaims back.

Felly bangs on the counter, doubling over in laughter. 

“I can’t—I can’t do this,” Bin resigns. “I hope you enjoyed your visit to Jay Park, please see yourself out of my Saloon.”

“Wait, just explain it!” Hyunjin pleads, still grinning ear to ear.

Felly heaves a deep breath, trying to control herself. 

Bin repeats slowly, “Two guys walk into a bar.”

Hyunjin waves him along. “I got that part.”

“Obviously not!”

There’s a loud THUMP from the wall of the general store. 

“Binnie! Keep it down in there!” Lee Know yells through the wall. “You’re scaring our customers!”

“You’re scaring the customers!” Bin shouts back.

Felly is practically on the floor. “Oh my God,” she gasps again. “Jinnie. The joke is that two guys walk into a bar. Like, and hit their heads.”

It clicks. 

Hyunjin claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God,” he mumbles.

This time Bin laughs too.

These people are actually really fun, Hyunjin realizes. Like Chris said, despite Bin’s tough-looking front, he’s delightful . And Felly is sweet and cute and laughs at everything. Hyunjin hasn’t warmed up this quickly to two strangers in a long time.

And Lee Know doesn’t seem so bad either, even though he’s kind of insane. He seems kind of harmless, actually.

By the time Chris comes to get him, Hyunjin is already looking forward to coming back.

Chapter Text

Seungmin’s job is largely pretty easy. Mostly because he doesn’t try. But it’s not like there’s any real crime in Jay Park. So he wakes up every morning, puts on his little badge, and proceeds to do jack shit until Chris tells him to go home. Half of his time is spent at the sheriff’s station bothering Chris, and the other half is spent at The Saloon bothering Lee Know and Binnie. Overall, it’s a pretty good gig (not that Seungmin would ever admit that). His days almost always follow the same routine. They’re calm, consistent, and safe.

It’s boring as Hell.

Today is really no different. Seungmin gets up at dawn (like any self-respecting person), gets dressed, and starts heading downstairs. He makes sure to trip outside his hallmate’s door on his way out, “accidentally”, very loudly banging against the door.

Downstairs, The Saloon and General Store aren’t open yet, but Lee Know is up already. He never seems to sleep. He’s lounging behind the counter with his feet up, flipping through last week’s newspaper (the most current issue in Jay Park).

“Is there any coffee yet?” Seungmin asks, tossing his coat and hat on the bar.

Lee Know doesn’t look up. “Is that how kids say ‘good morning’ these days?” he drawls.

“I never said I wanted your morning to be good. Is there coffee?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Good.”

“Is that how kids say ‘thanks’ these days?”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Seungmin replies, breezing past the Employees Only door to the kitchen. 

“Except rent!” Lee Know calls after him.

Sure enough, a pot of coffee sits on the stove, still warm. Seungmin pours a cup and brings it back out to sit by Lee Know. 

This part is routine, too. Seungmin sips his coffee, savoring the bitter flavor while his eyes roam around the bar. It’s always a little bit too dim in here in the mornings. Some of the tables and chairs don’t quite match, and the artwork on the walls is all kind of faded or tarnished. The room itself is really pretty cramped. . . but Seungmin always finds it surprisingly comfortable. Home-like. It suits a place like Jay Park. 

Actually, Seungmin kind of hates to think of how much he’s grown to think of The Saloon as home. But he’s been renting his room upstairs for, what, two years? It feels like he’s lived here longer than he lived with his own parents. God. That’s kinda depressing.

The newspaper rustles as Lee Know turns a page. There’s a good distraction from Seungmin’s dangerously romantic musings. 

“Anything newsworthy?” Seungmin asks, nodding at the paper.

Lee Know gives him a look over the top edge of it. “What do you think?”

Seungmin narrows his eyes. “You know, if I really wanted to, I could shut down your whole operation here.”

With a snort, Lee Know flips a page. “Right, and on what grounds would you do that, deputy?”

“The grounds that you’re totally a criminal.”

“And you’ll prove that how?”

“By making things up until something sticks. The legal system is built on crooked law enforcement. Count your days, asshole.”

“Oh, really?”An appraising look passes over Lee Know’s features. Slowly, he closes the newspaper and sets it down. He takes his feet off the countertop and carefully folds his hands. “I poisoned your coffee,” he says.

Seungmin looks down at his mug. “No you didn’t.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But for a second you probably regretted being so mean to me.”

“Whatever. I’m going to work.” He grabs his coat and hat.

“You’re not going to wait for Jeongin to come down for breakfast?”

Getting off his stool, Seungmin starts for the door. “Why would I? I literally see him every day.”

“And yet.” 

Seungmin pauses, turning back to Lee Know. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lee Know shrugs, looking innocently off to the side.

Pointing his finger menacingly, Seungmin vows, “I’m watching you.”

“Watch this,” calls Lee Know’s voice behind him, almost certainly accompanied by a middle finger, but Seungmin is already out the door.

~~~

Jeongin’s job is largely pretty difficult. Mostly because he’s trying very hard. There’s only like, six kids in Jay Park, but none of them could read before Jeongin arrived last fall, so he’s had his work cut out for him. Every morning, he wakes up and drags himself to the schoolhouse, which is actually just the chapel, and tries not to lose his mind while wrangling barely-literate children and getting paid dirt for it. And then he goes back home to The Saloon and gets pestered by the deputy until he calls it a night. Somehow, though, it’s not a bad gig. His days pretty much follow the same routine, except on Sunday when he picks up church ministry.

But he’s bored of it.

Today is no different. By eight o’clock, Jeongin is at the schoolhouse, grinding his teeth and re-reading the same passage for the tenth time, tired of the sound of his own voice. The kids just aren’t engaged the way they need to be, and Jeongin is out of ideas on how to get them to focus.

When the kids go home for lunch at noon, Jeongin is already spent.

He stands outside, leaning against the chapel door and letting the cold air wake him up.

I’m not cut out for this, he thinks to himself, not for the first time. I should have stayed in school. Or joined the military, or something. At least it’s Friday, I guess. 

It’s kind of an overcast day today, but it probably won’t rain. It’s the desert, after all. The cloudy sky casts a weird light over everything, filtering the world with gray. Jeongin’s eyes settle on the barn, about fifty yards from the chapel, and the fenced pasture behind it. The pasture’s dry and dead in the winter cold. As his gaze wanders, something catches his attention.

There’s something moving over there.

Jeongin squints. He realizes that it’s a person. It’s too far for him to see clearly, but it’s definitely a person. A person sneaking around trying not to be noticed.

Well, enough standing around out here. It’s lunch time. Jeongin starts to walk in the other direction, towards The Saloon. He doesn’t have any desire for confrontation or altercation with anybody who’s bothering to sneak around in Jay Park.

Still, he spares one glance over his shoulder, just to see if the sneaking person is still sneaking.

It takes him a moment, but sure enough, Jeongin spots a slightly-built figure backing around the other side of the barn. Holding . . . something. Stuff? Stolen stuff?

Oh, come on, Jeongin thinks to himself. If I catch someone stealing am I obligated to report it? 

The angel on his shoulder says yes. Maybe it would mean getting out of school for the rest of the day, but then he’d have to have an explanation for the parents. That’d be even more of a pain.

So Jeongin sucks it up and goes to The Saloon to take his lunch. The sneaking person will live to sneak another day, he supposes. 

~~~

It’s kind of ridiculous how slow the days pass sometimes. Seungmin is sitting at his desk, mindlessly twisting his chair back and forth, waiting for Chris to get sick of the squeaking sound. 

“Keep on, Seungmin,” Chris says, reading his mind. “Music to my ears.”

“Do you ever get so bored that you consider, like, staging a crime to investigate?”

Chris glances up from his paperwork. “That seems like a waste of taxpayer dollars.”

Seungmin shrugs. “I’m considering it. You know, this town doesn’t have enough crime to warrant a sheriff, much less a deputy—”

“Are you suggesting that I fire you?” Chris interrupts.

“ Would you? Would you please?”

“Obviously, I’m not going to do that, Seungmin,” He returns his attention to his paperwork. “I would get lonely without you.” 

Seungmin groans. “Ugh, fine. I’m gonna go investigate The Saloon.”

Chris pauses. “For the hundredth time, there’s nothing wrong with The Saloon.”

He always says that with the slightest edge of nervousness that tells Seungmin there’s definitely something shady going on with The Saloon, but that’s fine. He never intends to actually investigate it, because that would require doing his job.

“Yeah right,” he says, grabbing his hat on the way out. “I’m arresting Changbin today, by the way. I’ll be back at five o’clock. Make a note of it.”

“His name is Bin!” Chris calls after him. “And let him know I’m making some mash potatoes for supper!”

The Saloon isn’t all that far from the sheriff’s station. The short walk is made better by the fact that Seungmin intercepts Jeongin on his way over.

“Oh, perfect timing,” he says, taking comically large steps to catch up with him. “Jeongin, I’ve missed you today. I had to rush out for work this morning, I couldn’t even have breakfast with you.”

“Get off my ass,” Jeongin mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want to start my weekend by looking at your face.”

“No one says you have to look,” Seungmin replies. “Your ears work don’t they?”

“By the way,” Jeongin says, “I didn’t appreciate you loudly tripping into my door this morning.”

“How would you even know if that was me? Felly and Lee Know live there too.”

“Lee Know doesn’t sleep in, and Felly would never. You know that.” Even from where he’s walking behind him, Seungmin can see Jeongin’s eye roll. 

“Hey!” Seungmin makes sure to knock into him as he finally pushes past to swing open The Saloon’s door. Turning to Jeongin, he finishes with a grin, “Felly contains multitudes. You haven’t got a clue what she’s capable of.”

Jeongin’s eyes are going to fall out of his head at this rate. Seungmin watches him fog march into The Saloon, mumbling about just how much he does know exactly just what Felly’s capable of. 

Meanwhile, the woman in question seems to have overheard the commotion from where she’s serving customers. 

“What was that, hun?” 

Seungmin isn’t paying attention, still grinning at Jeongin, when he hears Felly’s falsetto. “I was telling our resident boy genius here that—who in the fuck is that?”

“Who?” Felly asks, glancing around.

“Him.” Seungmin points to a tall dark-haired guy sitting, like, ten feet away. “And why is he sitting in my chair?”

Jeongin pushes past him. “Who cares. Binnie, I need some moonshine.”

“That’s not even his chair,” Changbin mumbles from behind the bar.

The dark-haired stranger looks up at Seungmin, caught off guard.

He raises his eyebrows. “I’m—I’m Jinnie. We met like, two nights ago?”

Seungmin scoffs. “Nice try, but I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

However, now that he mentions it, he does recognize this guy. Yeah, Chris definitely mentioned him a couple times in the past two days. The new guy from who-knows-where. Now that he’s looking at him, Jinnie or whatever he said his name is, Seungmin isn’t quite sure how he’s forgotten him. His features are striking. He looks so clean and shiny compared to the dusty, old desert they’re surrounded by. Something new and out of place. Seungmin wonders how long it’ll take for him to be worn down like the rest of them. That is, if he stays long enough for that to happen.  

“Can anyone in this bar not harass the patrons?” Changbin asks, reminding him where he is and just what he came here to do. 

“Yeah, y’all have a real problem with that,” Jeongin says.

Seungmin approaches Jinnie’s table, still acting like he has no idea who he is. “What’s all that?” he asks, gesturing to the notebook he wields. 

The guy glances down. “Uh, sketchbook?”

“Looks suspicious.” Seungmin picks it up, eyeing Jinnie, who just looks confused. He flips a few pages. It’s mostly rough pencil drawings of various landscapes. They’re actually pretty good. There’s a few quickly-drawn portraits, too. Seungmin flips a few more pages. The most recent drawing is unfinished, but it’s clearly Felly.

“Find any crimes in there?” Felly asks, coming up to see the sketchbook. “I wanna see—hey!”

In a moment of phenomenal intuition, Seungmin snaps the sketchbook shut before Felly sees the drawing of herself. He makes a show of setting it firmly back onto the table and leaning in.

“Not too bad, stranger,” he says, lowering his voice for the drama of it, “but I’ve got my eye on you.”

Jinnie’s dark eyes are wide and thoroughly bewildered. “Uh. Alright.”

Felly smacks Seungmin on the arm, but she can’t help smiling at his little performance. “Go investigate something else. Have mercy, can’t anybody give the new guy a break?”

Oh well. Seungmin’s had his fun. He came to arrest Changbin, so that’s what he’ll do.

“Binnie,” he says, swaggering up to the bar.

“Yup.” Binnie doesn’t look up from the glass he’s cleaning.

“You’re under arrest,” Seungmin proceeds. “You have the right to remain silent.”

“What am I being arrested for?” he asks, raising his eyes along with the challenge.

Seungmin puffs out his cheeks. “Uh, let me think. Oh,” he pokes Changbin’s bicep. “Unlicensed concealed carry.”

“You think these are unlicensed?” Changbin flexes, smirking.

Seungmin risks a glance back at Felly and Jinnie, both of whom are poorly pretending they’re not extremely captivated by Changbin’s right arm. 

“Watch out there, tough guy,” Seungmin says under his breath, patting said arm, “you’re killin’ ‘em. That’ll worsen your sentence.”

Changbin shrugs and chupses. “It’s the price I pay.”

He’s enjoying this way too much. Seungmin shakes his head. “Man, you’re no fun to arrest. Can’t you like, fight me or something?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” Changbin goes back to cleaning the glassware. “If you wanted a fight, you should have taken Han up on it the other night.”

“Yeah, no. I'll actually go back to my boring desk job, I think.”

“Please do,” says Jeongin from down the bar, nursing his glass of moonshine.

“Oh, I forgot you were there,” Seungmin grins, reaching over to squeeze Jeongin’s shoulder much harder than necessary. “Is that moonshine? You know, the sale and consumption of moonshine is illegal.”

Jeongin sighs, hanging his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

~~~

It’s late when Felix gets done with work. It’s always late when Felix gets done with work. Even when The Saloon is dead fucking empty in the middle of the week, Lee Know never lets them close early. It’s kind of ridiculous.

So Binnie goes home at almost eleven, and Seungmin and Jeongin had both gone up much earlier. Leaving Felix and Lee Know alone, finishing up their cleaning behind the bar.

“The kitchen’s all that’s left. Do you want a cup of tea?” Lee Know asks.

“Yes, please,” Felix replies hoarsely, finally letting out his natural voice. It’s like stretching after being crammed in a shoebox all day. Felix feels like he can finally fucking breathe, or he would if not for the corset hugging his waist and keeping his lungs in a vice  grip. At least his posture probably looks great.

Lee Know brings him his cup. Black tea with lemon, as usual. If it was Felix’s choice, there would be half a cup of sugar involved, but Lee Know claims that sugar strains the vocal cords. Felix wonders if maybe he’s just being cheap with the sugar.

“Your voice sounds rough. Seems like you talked a lot today,” Lee Know observes, wiping down the stove.

“I did,” Felix replies, sipping slowly.

“Mm. ‘Cause of the new guy?”

Felix glances up from his tea. “Yeah, I guess so. He’s really nice, actually.”

Lee Know doesn’t say anything, which means there’s a conclusion being hinted at. Felix doesn’t know what that conclusion is supposed to be exactly, so he just sips his tea.

It’s not long before the cleaning is finished and they head upstairs. 

“Oh,” Felix whispers, stalling outside his bedroom door. “Do me a favor? Unsnap this thing? I can’t reach it past the corset.” He twists and gestures to the clasp on the back collar of his dress.

Felix expects an eye-roll or a snarky comment, but Lee Know just pinches the clasp open and pats Felix on the shoulder.

“You’re a good boy,” he says, heading past to his own room.

Felix watches him go. What a strange man. He closes the door. I’m not even that good of a boy, he thinks. Doesn’t he know that?

Whatever. No use trying to figure Lee Know out. Alright, Felix. Let’s dwell on that another night.

So he wriggles out of his uncomfortable dress and turns off the lights, and goes to sleep.

Chapter Text

Saturday morning brings rain. It’s one of this county’s few wet days out of the year. 

The Saloon livelier than normal. Lots of people have the day off with nothing to do in the rain. Jeongin spends most of the day at the bar, and Hyunjin finds him surprisingly easy to talk to. Lee Know is unusually inattentive to The General Store and continually raises cane in the kitchen. Felly and Binnie, social animals that they are, are clearly enjoying themselves.

Hyunjin is doing his usual thing, chatting when chatted with, drawing when idle, and generally liking the atmosphere. 

But something keeps bothering him. It’s something about Jay Park that hasn’t quite explained itself over the course of his few days in town. He’s not totally sure what questions to ask or who to talk to, but he is definitely uninformed about whatever it is.

Yesterday, he overheard Seungmin talking to Binnie, saying something about fighting, and Binnie threw out a name. Han. At the time, Hyunjin thought nothing of it. But since then it seems like that name keeps coming up, skirting just out of reach like a thieving mouse. Or a thieving squirrel, maybe.

And now, he hears the name drift by again.

He’s working on another drawing. Nothing complicated, just a little sketch of Felly (what can he say, she’s just fun to draw). He glances up at her every now and then, making sure his portrait is faithful. From across the bar, Hyunjin watches her approach Lee Know behind the counter, putting her hand up to whisper something to him.

The bar is extra noisy today, and Lee Know must not hear what she says. Felly clears her throat and says louder, “Han was waiting on you,” and Hyunjin hears it.

What’s up with that? he wonders. He hasn’t met this guy, or actually heard anything about him. Jay Park has, like, thirty people in it. Hyunjin thought he had met everybody. And why is Felly acting like she’s telling a secret?

“Hey,” Hyunjin gets Binnie’s attention. “Let me ask you a question.”

“Hey . . . You can ask me anything you like,” Binnie replies smoothly.

“That’s—okay. I keep hearing people talk about someone—”

A glass breaks. The shatter interrupts his question before he can even begin. 

“Sorry!” calls Jeongin’s voice over the commotion.

“Oh, shit,” Binnie groans. “Give me one second.” 

As he rushes to clean up the mess, Hyunjin frowns. Oh well. He goes back to his sketching and forgets all about it. It’s easy to get interrupted and sidetracked when the bar is crowded, with his friends being the only employees running the place. 

With so much commotion, the rest of the afternoon passes quickly. The rain helps to make the day feel shorter than usual. Hyunjin goes home before dark. 

~~~

He’s happy to find out that Chris is cooking supper that night.

“It was so cold and rainy all day, I thought stew would be the perfect thing,” he says, dishing up bowls for Hyunjin and Seungmin (who is tonight’s dinner guest). 

“Thanks.” Hyunjin takes his dish, happily soaking up the warm steam in his face. It smells delicious, and at the bottom of the bowl is a bed of white rice. It’s like gumbo, almost, he thinks with a smile.

“I’ll bet the bar was chaos today,” Chris says, taking a seat by Hyunjin. 

“It was kind of a lot,” Hyunjin agrees. “There were more people there than I expected. Actually, more people than I realized even live in Jay Park. It wasn’t bad, though. Crowded.”

Chris smiles, dimples poking through. “That’s good. You like it there?”

 “Yeah?” Hyunjin shrugs, mouth still full.

Seungmin raises his eyebrows, eyes shifting. “From what I’ve seen, that’s not all he likes.”

“What?” Hyunjin frowns, wondering if he’s not picking up on a joke.

“Don’t worry about it,” Seungmin sighs. Hyunjin cracks a smile even though he doesn’t get it.

Their conversation trails off; second and third helpings quickly take precident, and when the three of them move to the living room, Hyunjin is feeling sleepy . It’s been a long and energy-consuming day. In a warm house with a full stomach, listening to the back-and-forth of Chris and Seungmin’s voices (they sound almost musical, like a lullaby), Hyunjin starts to doze off.

Half-napping, Hyunjin feels something soft drape over him and stirs. Oh. A blanket. 

He rolls over, drawing the blanket up to his face. But now that he’s awake, Chris and Seungmin’s conversation is clearer.

“It’s concerning,” Chris is saying.

The wheels in Hyunjin’s brain turn a little faster. 

“‘Concerning’ seems like an understatement,” Seungmin says.

“It’s harmless, though, mostly,” Chris mumbles. “He hasn’t stolen anything valuable.”

There’s a pause. Seungmin replies slowly, “Has it occurred to you that he’s not actually stealing?”

The pitch of Chris’s voice jumps, “Well . . . I mean, it certainly seems like stealing, you know? Like, I would call it stealing. You wouldn’t?”

“Chris.” Seungmin’s voice is flat. “I’m looking at your face. The only real crime here is your poor attempt at lying. I know he’s not actually stealing, I literally live at The Saloon.”

Chis doesn’t reply. Hyunjin cracks one eye open at the sound of rustling clothes and hushed movements. The conversation is moving out of the living room and into the entryway. Hyunjin can’t see from his spot on the couch, but he doesn’t want to give himself away by moving. Damn. 

“Look,” Chris sighs. His voice is more serious now. He sounds tired. “I just wanna help him, yeah? And I’m going to do that in some way or another, whether anybody else agrees with me or not.”

“Luckily for you, it seems like Lee Know is already a few steps ahead of you.”

“Seungmin,” Chris warns, “don’t give him a hard time about it.”

Hyunjin peeks over the arm of the sofa. 

Seungmin holds up his hands in surrender. “I never give anyone a hard time about anything, boss. That’s your job.”

“Right,” Chris says with mocking seriousness. “And therefore as your boss, I order you to leave Han alone. And by extension, to leave Lee Know alone about Han.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. There it is again!

Seungmin opens the front door. “Like I said boss, you’re in no danger of me actually doing my job.”

The conversation fades as Chris walks Seungmin out.

Hyunjin sits up, mind churning. Based on the little fragments Hyunjin heard in The Saloon yesterday and today, it seems like Han is a recurring issue in Jay Park. He’s possibly stealing, possibly committing other crimes, and possibly causing problems in general. But Lee Know is helping him steal, or is giving stuff to him? That part isn’t clear. And Chris isn’t doing anything to stop it because he wants to help? That’s also not very clear.

Total, Hyunjin is working with, like, three little fragments of information, so he’s feeling pretty proud of his deductive skills.

When Chris comes back in to find Hyunjin awake, he smiles and asks how Hyunjin’s nap was. It’s a testament to how comfortable he’s gotten living with the sheriff because he notices how the smile (normally wide and sunny) doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His overall demeanor is stiff, and he seems distracted, tense. 

He’s anxious about this Han guy. Makes sense. 

Hyunjin hasn’t really heard Chris be serious and direct like he was with Seungmin a minute ago. Clearly, he’s invested in this situation. What Hyunjin doesn’t understand yet is why. But he’ll get there.

And when I do, he thinks, it’ll make a great story to write to Mama.

~~~

Han wakes up before dawn. Mostly because it gets too cold to sleep in the train car. But that’s okay, he’ll have more than enough time to sleep later. Right now, he’s got plans to make. Lots of stuff on his plate, being the biggest outlaw in West Texas and all.

He shoves open the door to the boxcar, looking out at the desert as the sun slowly starts to rise. He rubs his one good eye. Fuck, it’s cold today. All the more reason to get to work.

First, Han cleans his revolvers. Not because they’re messed up or anything, ‘cause Han knows how to take care of his shit, but because it’s a safe habit. If anything happened to these guns he’d be screwed.

Second, he takes stock of all his stuff. It may not look like a lot of stuff, but he’s got everything he needs. It’s minimalistic. Best to travel light when you’re on the run, y’know? 

He’s low on a few essentials, especially ammo. He was going to get some yesterday from Lee Know, but the rain was an unwelcome surprise. He spent the morning collecting rainwater and trying to patch the stupid leaks in the boxcar’s ceiling. By the time he got to sneak over to The General Store, Lee Know was already up-to-his-neck busy with The Saloon. Han only had time to grab a few things before Lee Know locked up the storeroom, and unfortunately ammo didn’t make it into the mix.

Which means Han needs to run back into town, and today is a good day to do it. It’s Sunday, so around nine o’clock almost the entire town will be occupied. That’s when Han will make his move. 

It’s a little risky, the amount of the trips Han has been making into town lately. But that’s no sweat, he lives on risk. He’s an outlaw! Danger could be his first name (literally, since he doesn’t have one). Plus, the sheriff in Jay Park is a goddamn coward and he wouldn’t be able to take Han if he tried.

Like last week? Han challenged him yet again and what did the sheriff do? He backed down! Just like he does every time.

The guy couldn’t help himself, Han thinks. I’m too badass. I don’t even have to try. People see me and they run. 

Han had also run (quite fast) that day, but that’s not relevant. He was just in a hurry, he didn’t have time to waste, he’s a busy guy, he’s the biggest fuckin’ outlaw in West Texas. 

Anyway! 

Han admires his modest stockpile. He’s done pretty well for himself. And by noon today, he’ll be doing even better. Lightwork for a guy like him.

~~~

Chris feels a little bad missing the church service, but the rain yesterday kept him from finishing his usual patrols. Today, he decides to get an early start so he can catch up and be extra thorough. He would have made Seungmin do it, but Seungmin seems to like church. Oh well. Chris mentally wishes Jeongin luck with the sermon.

The extra-long patrol gives Chris some quality time to think. Probably because of his conversation with Seungmin last night, he can’t get his mind off of the situation with Han. It just bugs him. He can let Han get away with stealing, but he can’t do anything more than that. Literally, the best way for Chris to help is to do nothing. It drives him crazy.

He’s so lost in thought over it that at some point, the hem of his shirt gets ripped halfway off without him even noticing. 

Aw man, what did I even do? It's too cold for this . . . Chris stops walking and stalls for a second, trying his best to tug the remainder of his shirt over his exposed midriff. He pulls his coat tighter around himself, hoping it'll stay put.

And maybe it was meant to be that he wound up standing out behind the post office in the middle of a patrol, wasting time messing with his torn-up shirt. Maybe it was fate.

Because it’s right then that Chris catches Han sneaking into town.

Maybe twenty yards ahead, a sneaky-looking figure ducks into an alleyway between two houses. Chris stifles a gasp. By now, he’d know that specific sneaky-looking figure anywhere.

He hauls ass in that direction as quietly as possible. He can't tell if Han saw him or heard him, but he's not going to waste the chance either way. He comes up on the alleyway and hesitates, stepping slowly forward.

But his sixth sense tingles.

Chris whirls around and is suddenly face-to-face with Han. Who is aiming a pistol at him. Again.

“Gotcha,” Han grins.

“How did you do that so quietly?” Chris asks, putting his hands on his hips. “That's actually really impressive.”

“Where’s the rest of your shirt? Wait, don’t answer that.” His lip curls into a sneer. “I don’t have time to chat. Put your hands up or draw your gun.” 

“Yeah, not doing that,” Chris replies. 

“Ugh!” Han doesn’t waver, his one good eye still trained on Chris. “I’m not messin’ around, old man, you better do as I say!” 

“First of all, I’m twenty-two. Second of all, we both know you’re not gonna shoot me, and I’m not gonna shoot you, so why can’t we just have a regular conversation?”

“Who says I won’t shoot you?” Han challenges, raising his voice. “Huh? Is that a dare?” 

Something about his demeanor is intensifying. Chris frowns as he watches Han’s grip on the revolver tighten. Slowly, he raises his hands in front of him like he’s talking to a wild animal. Which he basically is.

“Absolutely not,” he says, his voice even and calm. “But you have no reason—”

“Bet I don’t!”

Chris pauses. Maybe he’s going about this wrong. He needs to change course before he drives this train off a cliff.

“Okay,” he says, “I have a good idea. How about—”

“I don’t make deals,” Han spits. 

“Right, how about a bet?” Chris offers. “You’ll make a bet, huh.”

Han doesn’t lower his gun, but he does hesitate. “Let’s hear it.”

Chris fights a smile, but he can’t help it. “Good. Take a shot at me, and if you miss, you put your gun away and let me buy you a drink.”

Han scoffs. “Are you kidding? Do you have a death wish?”

“Maybe,” Chris shrugs. “What do you say?”

“I never miss. What happens then?”

Don’t have to worry about that, Chris thinks. “Anything you want,” he says. 

Han considers it, his one eye narrowing. He looks Chris up and down. “Your coat’s pretty nice.”

“Yeah?”

“I want it.”

“Perfect.” Easy as pie. Chris backs up a few steps, stretching his arms out at his sides. His shirt rides up again. “Whenever you’re ready!”

Han blinks. “Just like that? You’re just gonna . . . stand there and let me shoot you?”

“Let you shoot at me,” Chris corrects. He makes a show of snapping his heels together and squeezing his eyes shut.

There’s a moment of silence. Chris cracks one eye open, waiting. Han is frowning, slightly lowering his gun. When he speaks, his voice is uncertain.

“That’s—that doesn’t seem right. That’s not a fair challenge.”

Just push him a little further. “If you forfeit, I still win,” Chris taunts. “You can at least go down fighting.”

“I am not going down,” Han insists. He straightens his back and raises the revolver again. 

Chris has to admit, he does look kinda badass. The image is there, what with the eyepatch and the shiny revolver and the steady hand. If confidence was all it took, Han could be the biggest outlaw in West Texas. But his baby face and his ratty clothes really take the edge off. 

“On your mark,” Chris says.

The gunshot cuts through the cold air, loud and harsh. It misses by a country mile.

Chris swivels around, looking behind him.

“Where did that even go?” he asks. “Did you invent a new direction? Now that’s impressive.” He looks back at Han. “I hope you’re thirsty.”

Han stands stiff, gun half-lowered, with his mouth drawn into a thin line. He clears his throat, looking away. He tucks his revolver back into its holster. 

“Sure am,” he says weakly.

~~~

The Saloon technically doesn’t sell liquor on Sundays, but Hyunjin goes after church anyway. They still serve food and The General Store is open, so he knows there’ll still be at least a small crowd. And regardless of what the law says, Lee Know would never pass up a chance to overcharge Hyunjin for an alcoholic beverage.

Seungmin intercepts him on the porch, holding open the door. “You better be here for lunch or groceries,” he says, “Otherwise, I might have to write you a citation.”

Hyunjin giggles, heading to his usual table. “You’re so cool, Seungmin.”

It takes a little while for the after-church crowd to trickle in. Binnie isn’t working today, but he comes to The Saloon anyway and sits with Hyunjin.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to spend your free time here,” Hyunjin remarks, “considering you already have to spend all your non-free time here.”

“Well,” Binnie gives a nonchalant shrug, “you know it’s not so bad if you’re here.”

Hyunjin flicks him on the hand. “Seriously.”

“I’m completely serious,” Binnie assures. But he cracks a smile, and so does Hyunjin.

Before long, Felly is back from the chapel and making her rounds to the tables. Lee Know takes a break from his clerking at The General Store to bring Hyunjin a glass of unspecified liquid (along with a suspicious-looking wink) that’ll probably cost him way too much. Jeongin orders lunch at the counter while Seungmin harasses him about this morning’s sermon. All seems right with the world, except that Chris still hasn’t shown up.

“Shouldn’t Chris be done with patrols by now?” Hyunjin asks.

Binnie hums. “Probably, but—”

Just then, the door swings open. Hyunjin turns to find Chris walking in with a triumphant smile, and right behind him . . . 

That kid with the eyepatch. Hyunjin frowns. Wait a damn minute. 

He glances around. None of the other patrons seem to notice, except Seungmin, who just rolls his eyes, and Binnie, who groans. Felly is behind the counter pretending not to see anything. 

“Who’s he?” Hyunjin mumbles, elbowing Binnie.

“That’s the guy that shot me,” he deadpans. “Not really, he just tells people that. He couldn’t shoot the moon if it was touching the ground. He definitely can’t shoot me.”

Huh? When Hyunjin looks back over, Eyepatch Kid is staring right at him with a nasty look on his face.

“Who in the fuck is that?” he spits.

Hyunjin feels heat creeping up his neck.

Chris pauses. “Who?” 

“Him,” he walks right up, putting a mud-caked boot on Hyunjin’s chair. His one dark eye is narrowed. “And why is he sitting in my chair?”

Binnie stands up, laying one hand on the table. “Would you just leave him alone? That’s not even your chair.”

Chris echoes, “Yeah, let’s not get off on the wrong foot—”

Hyunjin pushes the kid’s boot off his chair. The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. He snaps, “What is your problem?”

Eyepatch Kid recoils, curling his lip. He’s about to bark something back, but a flash of recognition crosses his face. “Wait a minute, you’re that guy that ran right into me the other night. You are, aren’t you?” 

Felly’s high voice pipes up as she approaches, “Let’s not get fired up, now . . .”

Chris puts a hand on Eyepatch Kid’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t—”

Hyunjin shoves his chair back and stands. “Actually, it was you who ran into me,” he says, jabbing a finger at Eyepatch Kid’s chest. He’s got at least three inches on the guy, he realizes proudly.

But Eyepatch Kid thinks he’s hot shit. He steps closer, pushing Hyunjin’s finger out of the way. “Fine, I did,” he says. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“That’s enough!” Chris growls, stepping between them again. “Sit down.” Hyunjin freezes involuntarily. The warning in Chris’s voice is clear. He gives Hyunjin and Eyepatch Kid both a glare, then steps back. 

Hyunjin sits down. Eyepatch Kid scoffs and looks away, but he seems kinda flustered too. He drops into a chair at the next table over. Behind Chris, Felly fans her face and goes back to the counter, looking unsettled. 

“Now,” Chris says. “I’m going to make good on my promise. Jinnie, Han, play nice.”

Hyunjin’s face goes slack. Wait a minute. Wait a damn minute. He looks at Binnie. Then at Eyepatch Kid. Then back.

“This is Han!?” he cries, pointing.

Han puts his feet up on the table. “Yeah,” he picks absently at his fingernails. “Maybe you’ve heard of me.”

Hyunjin stands back up, looking around the bar, but no one else seems to care whatsoever. “No seriously, this is him? The guy—this guy sucks!” 

Han shoots him a look. “Right, and who exactly are you, pretty boy? Are you the biggest outlaw in West Texas?”

“No?” Hyunjin throws his hands up in front of him, shrugging his shoulders as he does. One look at his face reads utter confused disgust. “What kind of question is that?”

“Didn’t think so,” Han drawls, looking away.

Binnie rubs his forehead like he’s got a headache. “Han, please shut up. You’re walking on thin ice here to begin with. And you’re not even the biggest outlaw in this town. Jinnie, sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

Plunking back into his seat, Hyunjin scowls. He was so curious, and for what? This asshole? 

A minute later Chris returns, bringing Han a glass of unspecified liquid. 

“You shouldn’t put your feet up like that, it’s kinda gross,” he says cheerfully, holding out the glass. When Han doesn’t take it, he just sets it on the table. “Alright. Are they getting along?” he asks Binnie.

Binnie cuts Chris a look and ignores the question. “What happened to your shirt?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chris says. He gestures to Han’s glass. “Drink your . . . juice.”

I can’t do it, Hyunjin decides. Standing abruptly, he grabs his coat and hat. “If he’s staying here, then I’m not. See y’all at home.” He pushes in his chair and starts for the door. 

He lets it slam shut behind him, but he doesn’t make it far. Not ten steps further than that, he walks right into Lee Know, who nearly drops the crate he’s carrying to The General Store. He curses and catches himself, shooting Hyunjin a look.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lee Know asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Asshole kid with a stupid eyepatch,” Hyunjin mumbles, shoving past.

In an instant Lee Know seizes his wrist and twists him around in one smooth motion. “He’s inside? With everybody else?”

For a second Hyunjin is taken aback. Lord, that was quick. Lee Know waits, staring, holding the whole crate with one arm and Hyunjin’s wrist with the other.

“Uh, yeah,” Hyunjin stammers. “Chris brought him in.”

Lee Know scowls. “He’s an idiot. Bye, Jinnie.”

Hyunjin can’t tell if he was referring to Chris or to Han. He just shakes his head and huffs, trudging back to Chris’s house.

~~~

“Why didn’t you just come here?” Minho asks. “I know you could have made it without getting caught.”

“I wasn’t about to pass up a fight with the sheriff,” Han replies, like it was obvious.

It’s late. The two of them sit on boxes in the storeroom at The Saloon, drinking black tea with lemon. Minho had already packed a crate of supplies for Han to take with him, but he convinced him to just sleep here tonight. It’s gotta be cold in that boxcar.

“You’re an idiot,” Minho says. “You know he’d never actually fight you. And if he did, you’d still miss.”

Han doesn’t reply, he just sips his tea.

It’s surprising that he’s even here. After weeks of Chris pointlessly trying to convince him to put his gun away and calm down, Han somehow ended up doing just that. Well, maybe not the calming down part, but the first step counts for something. 

Minho’s never tried to get Han to stay in town. Obviously he thinks things would be better if the guy would stop stirring shit up and just settle down, but he’s not gonna get anywhere by arguing with him.

It’s good that Chris finally figured out a way to get across to him, even if it’s by tying him into stupid bets. Han looks terrible, with dirty, threadbare clothes and a complexion that says I haven’t slept much in the last few weeks. Much longer out in that boxcar and he’ll be dead.

“Do you want clothes?” Minho asks. “Not that you need any, of course, the mud and the moth holes suit you just fine.”

Han rolls his eye, but he still considers it. “I guess I wouldn’t mind some clothes. Felix has some more extras?”

With a nod, Minho stands. “Wait here.”

Leaving Han in the storeroom is objectively a bad idea, Minho’s not stupid. But he does it anyway because it would be stupider to act like he doesn’t trust Han. Even if it’s true.

Knocking softly on Felix’s door, he says, “It’s me. Can I borrow some clothes?”

Felix lets him in a second later. “For Han?” he whispers hoarsely. “Let me get some.”

Minho waits while Felix digs through his dresser. He rummages through the few men’s clothes he still has, picking out whatever is the warmest and the most durable. Minho has to smile at that.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the stack.

“Can I come say hi?” Felix asks. “Or am I only worth the clothes off my back?”

Minho has to think about it. If it were anyone else, he’d say no. But from what he’s seen, Felix doesn’t seem to have the same abrasive effect on Han that other people do. 

“Sure,” he decides. “Just try not to act like you care.”

“I know the drill,” Felix insists. 

 They go back down to the storeroom. Han is right where Minho left him, except he’s leaning back against the wall, fast asleep. The empty mug of tea still rests in his hands.

“Aw, shucks.” Felix pouts, speaking quietly. “Missed him by that much. Oh well.”

Minho carefully takes the mug so Han doesn’t drop it in his sleep. He sets the stack of clothes on top of the crate he packed earlier. If Han decides to leave before Minho gets up tomorrow morning, he’ll know he can take them.

“He looks so . . . little,” Felix says, brows knitting up. Sympathy creeps into his husky voice.

Minho hums. “He looks like shit.”

“Yeah. Do you think he’ll keep coming back?”

“I hope so.” Minho frowns. “Go to bed, Felix, you have to get up early tomorrow.”

Felix sighs. “We don’t have to open at 8:00, no one ever even comes in that early.”

“I’m not in it for the money. I do it for the love of customer service.”

Felix rolls his eyes, nudging Minho with his elbow. “Whatever. Want me to feed the cats before I go up?”

“No, I did it earlier. Thanks, though.”

Felix nods and goes to head back upstairs. Minho spares one last glance at Han. If there was ever such a thing as feeding a stray that kept coming back . . . ugh. Minho’s getting soft. He leaves the door unlocked behind him.

Chapter Text

Chris knows that, objectively, his methods are flawed. Both when it comes to the town at large and his unorthodox approach of housing strangers. However, so far, neither have  backfired on him. 

Plus, Chris has a good feeling about this Jinnie character.

With each passing day, his assurance that he’s “just passing through” becomes less and less certain. In the little over a week he’s been here, Jinnie has found a way to camp himself behind the bar everyday, and Chris has watched as he’s become a key component in The Saloon’s ecosystem.

Binnie tells him (in the dark of night, once he is certain that Jinnie is fast asleep) just how charming this new roommate of theirs is. He’s waxing poetic, but Chris always lets him go on, smiling broadly at how sweet it is. 

Felly isn’t much better off from what Lee Know has grumbled at him when he goes in to get his lunch. It’s fond, though, in a way that lets Chris know Lee Know approves of this addition at least a little bit. 

It makes Chris happy, seeing the pretty new guy potentially making a home here, and his kids willing to take him in so readily (Han notwithstanding). It really fills him with a sense of pride. 

He hopes, truly, that whatever Jinnie is running from (he can tell there’s something; it’s not hard to recognize; he sees it in many of his kids) that he finds refuge here. 

Chris won’t say anything to him, obviously. He hasn’t said anything to any of the others, either. But he vows, just as he’s done with the rest, that if Jinnie chooses to stay, Chris will do everything in his power to keep him safe.

Not that it's a hard promise to keep. It’s not like anything really happens in Jay Park. 

~~~

Lee Know’s Foolproof Jinnie Stew

Required ingredients:

• One quart of stock
• Two cups of chopped tomatoes
• One Irish potato, diced
• One small Spanish onion, diced
• One Jinnie (or other reticent stranger)
• Optional: cornstarch or flour to thicken

* note: if Jinnie cannot be found, consult with barmaid/bartender, as it is typically observed in their company.

Method:

Cook chopped tomatoes and onion at a low temperature for at least twenty minutes. Add the diced potato shortly after and continue to cook until soft. 

* note: use at least a two or three quart stewpot to accommodate total volume.

Jinnie can be prepared as desired, but chopped or sliced is preferred to whole-roasted or spatchcocked for more even cooking. Once added to the vegetables, cover and allow Jinnie to cook almost fully before covering with stock.

* note: do not overcook! Jinnie may appear unyielding at first but is actually quite tender. 

Season to taste with salt, black pepper, and dried chili. Cook uncovered until thickened, or cover to retain more liquid if desired. If consistency is too thin, stir one full tablespoon of cornstarch with cold water and add to the stewpot. 

* note: if using flour instead of cornstarch, use two tablespoons and stir more thoroughly. 

Commonly encountered difficulties:

• Cooking process may be interrupted by a distressed barmaid/bartender (friends of Jinnie). Simply ignore and proceed. Threaten unemployment if the issue persists.
• Jinnie may come with a tough or rigid exterior due to introversion. This external layer can be removed in several ways, such as with quality time, humor, a flirtatious bartender, or two ounces of single-malt whiskey.
• A Jinnie may be difficult to source depending on your location. Consult with a local sheriff, who likely has other mysterious newcomers of similar temperament on hand. 

~~~

Changbin’s Diary, 2/24/97

“A Pearl Amid the Desert”

or, an Ode to the Lovely Traveler

I've found a beauty vision rare amidst this land;

A satin, gleaming pearl of secret unnamed source.

By chance begot from coarse and desert sand,

This pearl, by Fortune's wind, to me traversed.

If I could write about your

How could I write to

How could his nature wholly be extolled?

My written praise cannot describe his grace.

And when did this grace on me take

How did this grace on me take such a strong hold?

I know not, and will neither ascertain.

A case A shell of perfect aspect, air, and form

Encases Encloses deeper beauty found within inside;

This mild gentle treasure takes my breath by storm,

And leaves the desert lush and green besides.

I wait 

As secrets life both past and future yet unfurl,

I learn and love more of this desert pearl.

~~~

HAN - “Ten Paces (Single Ver.)” 

[Intro (spoken)]

Listen up! Let’s make this quick and easy

I’m gonna count to ten

And we’ll settle this once and for all

[Verse 1]

New kid on the block and he's a hot shot

Or maybe not, looks to me like he's all talk

No substance, he's a story without a plot

Tell him to get in the cradle 'cause he's about to get his shit rocked!

You can't impress me with a pretty-faced wannabe

A poser with a chip on his shoulder is all he is to me

No need to compete with a local nonentity

Who's kissin' the sheriff's ass and livin' it up, rent-free

This dude blows into town like he already owns it

Acting bigger than his britches, I ain't gonna condone it

Don't test my patience with show-offs or freeloaders

Just put a pistol in my hand and watch if I don't load it

If he's takin' shots at me for no good reason

I'm gonna fire on his ass like it's open season

Any time, any place, just tell me where we're meetin'

Don't place your bets on him, y'all know the fight's uneven

[Chorus]

About to go off, I'm like a canon with the fuse lit

Six-shooter on my hip, I ain't afraid to use it

Take your money and run, no need to be reckless

'Cause you're messin' with the biggest outlaw in West Texas

[Verse 2]

He can't cut it in the West 'cause I already did

They call it "desert" 'cause he saw me and he ran and hid

Irrelevant, definition: spoiled-ass rich kid

Count to ten and draw, now watch me blow the lid

Can't win a fight with daddy's money, he already tried

I got the upper hand even with one lesser eye

Silver spoon stuck in his mouth, got him pacified

He couldn't take me if my hands and my feet were tied

It's true that Jinnie's pretty, but he's one of many

He's all style and no substance, like a shiny penny

One look at me and he tarnishes, green with envy

I would call it a skill issue but he doesn't have any

It's time Jinnie took a hike, already bit the dust

I ain't sorry to see you go, nothing left to discuss

Get out while you can or get some lead in your guts

This town ain't big enough for the both of us

[Chorus]

About to go off, I'm like a canon with the fuse lit

Six-shooter on my hip, I ain't afraid to use it

Take your money and run, no need to be reckless

'Cause you're messin' with the biggest outlaw in West Texas

~~~

Felix loves meeting new people. It’s something he’s missed these past few months between his time on the road and his stay in this small town. 

Don’t get him wrong. The people of Jay Park are delightful characters who he’s loved getting to know. It’s just that after two whole months of the same thirty people or so, the novelty has worn off.

It’s not as though these people know the “real” him anyways. It’s not as though they ever could. He’d be in big trouble if that happened.

Granted, with Jinnie, the stakes are the same. Perhaps, they’re even higher. The first time Jinnie opened his mouth, Felix recognized his accent as something far too close to home for comfort. 

For all intents and purposes, Felix should stay away. He should be content with his already-risky fascination with Binnie. He should be content just to be alive. 

But fuck it! What’s the point of still having a life if he can’t live it?

There’s nothing wrong, really, with talking to Jinnie, with laughing at his jokes, with smiling at him across the bar. There’s no harm in admiring his drawings, sharing silly gossip with him, or just appreciating his company. There’s nothing wrong with being his friend . Especially not compared to everything else Felix has done.

Something is there, pulling him towards Jinnie. Something not unlike the pull he feels towards Bin, but this one is dangerous. This one he has to be more careful with.

Felix loves meeting new people. He just wishes he didn’t have to lie to them. 

~~~

Kim Seungmin, interrogated by Christopher Bang 

Interrogation Conducted: 24 February 1897 

SEUNGMIN: What is this for again?

CHRIS: Practice Interrogation.

SEUNGMIN: Practice interrogation? So this is what our taxpayer dollars are going towards? Don’t we have more important things to do, Sheriff?

CHRIS: I’ll be asking the questions here, Deputy. So what do you think about the new guy?

SEUNGMIN (eye roll): Whatever. Who?

CHRIS: Jinnie.

SEUNGMIN: Never heard of him.

CHRIS (slow blink): Jinnie. You've seen him, like, every day this week.

SEUNGMIN: I've seen you every day this week, are you sure we're not talking about you?

CHRIS: Stop messing around! This is an interrogation!

SEUNGMIN: Okay, okay, sorry. I'll be for real now. What is your question.

CHRIS: What do you think of Jinnie?

SEUNGMIN: See, there it is again, I don't know that guy.

CHRIS: You’re obstructing justice right now. This is an obstruction of justice.

SEUNGMIN: I’m really sorry officer, I just—

CHRIS: Sheriff.

SEUNGMIN: My bad. I’m really sorry, Sheriff , I just don’t know who you’re talking to me about. Are there, maybe, some key features or recognizable traits about this person? You know, to jog my memory?

CHRIS (heavy sigh): Fine. Yeah. He’s tall, dark hair, pretty face . . . I don’t know, vaguely resembles a ferret? Vaguely?

SEUNGMIN: We live in 1890s Texas, I have no idea what a ferret is. Also, “tall” is subjective, could you give me a rough estimate in inches?

CHRIS: A ferret is kind of like a weasel.

SEUNGMIN: Oh, gotcha. So the guy we’re talking about is a weasel? You made it sound like he was a person.

CHRIS (pinching his nose): Seungmin . . . you’ve literally spoken with this guy numerous times, in front of me. We ate dinner at my house last week!

SEUNGMIN: Oh, you’re talking about the guy from the bar!

CHRIS: Yes! That’s who I’ve been talking about this entire time!

SEUNGMIN: I thought that was Binnie. He’s not exactly new in town anymore, is he? And he’s also not tall or a weasel.

CHRIS: You gotta be kidding me.

SEUNGMIN: I’ve never kidded about anything in—where are you going?

SEUNGMIN (to himself): . . . Shame he didn’t ask about that other new guy. He’s actually pretty cool.

~~~

Jeongin’s not sure what the big fuss is about. 

Sure, there’s a new guy here, Jimmy or something. He’s alright. Jeongin has probably talked to him, like, once or twice. Not nearly long enough to form an opinion on him, but he’s been busy doing other things like working and avoiding the deputy and drinking to dull the edge. Jeongin hasn’t had time to ponder over some guy who just got here.

Eh, Felly seems to like him, and that's good enough for him.

Chapter Text

Minho is having a good day.

Half of his Saturdays are good days, to be honest, because he has an excuse to leave Jay Park and stretch his legs in an actual town. Every other week, Minho gets to make a run into the nearest city to pick up orders and supplies for The General Store and The Saloon. It’s almost like a vacation.

Today, like usual, Jeongin came with him to pick up things for his church ministry. They got into town around noon, then went their separate ways. Minho spent the first hour or so visiting all his wholesalers and paying for his orders, but they won’t have to be picked up until later this afternoon.

Which gives him plenty of time to poke his nose into trouble wherever he can find it. 

So for the last two hours, he’s been dropping by all his favorite shady back alley gambling dens and dingy bars. He sits in a dimly-lit sub-basement poker room, cooly leaning back in his chair, looking down at a hand of terrible cards. He’s got a lot of money in the pot. So does everyone else at the table.

This is great. Even with his awful hand, Minho knows he can bluff his way into a win. 

Or he would, except for Jeongin showing up in the middle of the round. 

You’ve gotta be kidding me, Minho thinks, glancing up and then pointedly ignoring him. Take the hint, Jeongin.

 But of course, he doesn’t. Immediately, he catches sight of Minho. He sticks out like a sore thumb here, all clean-cut and neat in this smoky, rundown bar. He makes an exaggerated staring expression, gesturing to his watch and then to the door. 

Oh, whoops. Minho tries not to make his glance at the clock obvious. It’s almost time for him to pick up all his orders and hit the road.

But this won’t take long. He can wrap this up quick, make his money, and get out.

Jeongin is now sitting across the room, staring directly at Minho, very obviously glancing at his watch again. Ugh.

Minho ignores him. He returns his attention to the table, determined to see this one through. 

“Wow,” says Jeongin’s voice, now right behind him, “that hand sucks.”

Minho grits his teeth.

They’re out of the poker room two minutes later.

“What the Hell is wrong with you?” Minho asks, grabbing hold of Jeongin’s arm. “Do you want your rent to increase?”

Jeongin shakes him off. “Somebody was looking for you,” he says, frowning. “I heard him asking about you.”

Minho pauses, slowing his pace. “Who was he?”

Jeongin shrugs, shaking his head. “Just some shifty-looking guy. I didn’t talk to him, I just came to get you. Are you supposed to be meeting somebody around here?”

Am I? Minho has to think for a second. Oh. I forgot about that.

“Yes,” he replies simply. “But don’t worry about it. I’ll find the guy, you go get the wagon and meet me back on the main street to pick up my orders.”

Jeongin looks at him expectantly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “That’s awfully suspicious-sounding,” he says.

“And?” Minho claps him on the shoulder, turning back to the seedier direction of town. “You should get out of this neighborhood, you look easy to mug. See you.” 

~~~

Changbin likes Saturdays like today. They’re slow as Hell when Lee Know isn’t here. Before Changbin (and later Felly) got hired, Lee Know always closed the bar when he went to the city on Saturdays. Small towns form their habits and stick to them.

There are still a few people that stop by for drinks, but most of the morning is blissfully boring.  He’s been behind the bar wiping out the same glass for, like, ten minutes, just letting himself space out.

As much as Changbin hates standing on his feet all day, spending all his time in this place, and the boredom of such a repetitive job, there are things about it he really likes. Like talking to pretty newcomers who sit at the counter all day. Or talking to pretty coworkers who make the job bearable.

Changbin snaps out of his daze at Felly’s voice, “You alright there, Binnie?” Her little hand covers his, taking the glass from his grip.

Changbin blinks. “Hm?”

“What’re you thinkin’ about, dear?” She tilts her head, blinking her big eyes. “You look a little lost in thought.”

With a smile, Changbin gives her hand a little squeeze and replies, “Just daydreaming about my favoritest, loveliest, coworker.” 

“Aw, I had no idea you were so fond of Lee Know. I’ll have to tell him.”

“No, don’t,” he puts his other hand over his heart, “it’ll hurt my pride too much.” 

Felly chuckles. “I wonder what kind of trouble he’s finding in town today.”

“Hopefully nothing too illegal,” Changbin sighs. “At least nothing that can be traced back to us.”

A beat passes. Felly hums. “You know, I wonder sometimes just how little we know about him. About what he actually gets up to.”

Changbin considers that. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it. But the less I know about Lee Know’s business, the better.” That part, at least, is true.

“You’re right about that, I’d bet.” She leans an elbow on the counter, absently looking around the bar. 

Really, none of them know too much about each other. Changbin is well-versed in not talking about his past, and he’s sharp enough to realize that Felly and Lee Know are playing the same game. There’s no harm in curiosity, of course, but Changbin’s no hypocrite. He’s not about to ask any needless questions.

A twinge of pain in his sore shoulder brings Changbin’s attention back to the present moment. Felly has gone from holding his hand to tugging at his sleeve, rolling the cuff all the way up to his elbow.

Changbin raises an eyebrow, rolling his shoulder back. “My dear Felly,” he lowers his voice, “I’m afraid if you keep that up we’ll have to get a chaperone.”

“My dear Binnie,” she bats her eyes, “I’m afraid I might just keep it up, then.” She can’t keep from laughing as she says it. 

Changbin cracks a smile. Working at The Saloon really isn’t so bad.

The front door squeaks on its hinges as Jinnie enters. 

“Hey,” he calls, taking off his hat, “are y’all, like, open today?”

~~~

They’re cutting it fairly close by the time Minho and Jeongin are actually ready to leave. The afternoon has gotten late fast, and Minho’s detour cost them a little more time than he had hoped.

“What’s in the box?” Jeongin asks, nodding to the crate he had appeared back at the wagon with. “It looks heavy.”

“It is,” Minho replies, not elaborating further.

He spends a minute going through each box they load, making sure everything he bought is accounted for. It’s an odd mix of stuff, since he’s been ordering for The General Store, The Saloon, and a few miscellaneous personal interests. It takes more time than he’d like to spend taking inventory, but it’s necessary.

Can’t have any more stowaways, he thinks, tying the cover over the wagon’s flat bed. “Ready?” he asks Jeongin.

“Ready,” his companion replies, climbing up into the shotgun seat. He doesn’t actually carry a shotgun, of course, even though he probably should. Especially since it’ll be almost dark when they get back to Jay Park. Minho’s armed, it's not like he’s stupid, but it wouldn’t hurt for his passenger to look prepared too.

Something about making sure to take inventory and then leaving in a hurry is making him think of Felix. As they move out of town, the thought keeps pecking at him. It was just a couple of months ago, but it seems like it’s already been ages since the night they met.

~~~

Minho is running egregiously late. He’s almost home, but it’s been a long day. His liquor connection kept him waiting until nearly dusk. He was able to run other errands in town while he waited, but the whole afternoon passed with Minho growing less and less sure that they'd show up.

They did, though. And the trade took less than twenty minutes.

Assholes, Minho thinks. I shouldn't have waited on them. It better be some damn good moonshine.

Traveling in a wagon after dark is dangerous. Traveling alone is dangerous too. Minho wasn’t stupid enough to waste more time, so instead of doing his usual inventory before he left, he just loaded his new purchases without going through everything he had packed earlier.

Of course, the ride home was three hours. So Minho has had a lot of time to be worried about it.

It’s a relief (and something of a miracle) that he makes it back to Jay Park without any trouble. It’s almost nine o’clock by the time he’s unhitched the wagon outside his storeroom and brought the mules back to the barn.

Minho is beat. It’s cold as frozen Hell, he’s irritated beyond the normal threshold, and his ass is sore from bumping along dirt roads through the desert for three hours. There’s not much more he can stand tonight.

Sighing world-wearily, he lifts a hand to untie the wagon’s cover. And it’s already untied. Actually, it’s been cut.

You’ve gotta be kidding, he thinks, turning the rope over in his hand. Just what I need. A thief.

Lost profits aside, there’s enough contraband in the back of Minho’s wagon to get him sent to the gallows. He needs to find out who cut the cover open, what exactly they saw, and whether or not they’ll cause a problem for him. The rope had to have been cut just a moment ago when he took the mules in, which means the thief can’t have gone far.

Minho stops. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

He whirls around and ducks as something whips over his head. 

A man with a crowbar stands behind him, recoiling as Minho pops back up and lunges for him. He takes advantage of the disrupted balance and grabs for the crowbar, jerks it up instead of away, and the man falls backwards into the dirt.

With his other hand, Minho has already drawn his gun and aimed it at the man’s chest.

“Don’t move,” he orders.

The man opens his hands in surrender, wide eyes trained on the pistol. “I won’t,” he pants.

Minho frowns. There are no strangers in Jay Park, but he’s definitely never seen this guy before. His face is grimy, and in the gaslight of the storeroom, it looks like it’s bloodied too. He seems young, less of a man and more of a boy. He’s willowy and lean. And he’s not wearing enough clothes to insulate against the December chill.

“I don’t know you,” Minho says. “Tell me who you are and where you came from.”

“Louisiana,” the kid replies. His voice doesn’t match his face.

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Louisiana is a place. I need a name, too.”

The kid hesitates, but he concedes. “Felix. Lee.”

Felix Lee. Does that name ring a bell? Minho can’t remember if he’s heard it or not.

“Are you in trouble?” he asks.

Felix glances away, almost like he’s looking for a way out. He won’t find one. “Yes?”

Whatever the kid’s done, it wasn’t anywhere close to here if Minho hasn’t heard of him. He looks exhausted, not in any shape to fight. Certainly not if he doesn’t have a gun.  He doesn’t seem like he wants to either, the way he chose to sneak up on Minho instead of confronting him outright. The only question is what he wants.

“You stowed away in my wagon,” Minho guesses. “You had to be in there for a few hours at least. What’d you steal?”

Felix shakes his head. “Nothing. Except the crowbar, just now,” he says.

“So what is it you’re after?”

“I just wanna get out of here,” he says. Almost pleading. His shallow breaths make clouds in the cold air. He looks pretty pathetic, if Minho’s being honest. Kind of like a wet cat.

There’s a choice to be made here. All Minho would have to do is fire a shot in the air and Chris would be over here in two seconds flat. Or, he could keep the kid here and wait to find out if there’s any kind of bounty he could collect.

But Minho isn’t a snitch. And he’s not heartless either, despite the rumors. And he’s just had a really funny idea. 

“Alright,” he decides. “I’m gonna offer you a deal. How do you feel about skirts?”

~~~

Hyunjin has to admit, The Saloon just isn’t the same without Lee Know. There’s not many people there, The General Store is closed, and there’s a distinct air of chaos that’s simply absent. At least Binnie and Felly are still here. Business is slow enough that they’ve long since abandoned their actual jobs in favor of sitting around with Hyunjin.

They’ve spent the afternoon playing cards and trying crappy mixed drinks that Binnie made for practice.

The most recent contender tastes like cough medicine with a hint of citrus. Hyunjin makes a face and fights a gag, taking another sip anyway. “Ugh. That’s bad, but I’ve had way worse,” he remarks, sliding his glass to Felly. 

“I don’t believe that,” Felly says, wrinkling her nose at the concoction. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Oh come on,” Binnie insists, pushing the glass back into her hand. “You gotta try it, otherwise I’ll never get any better. Think of my skills, Felly, my career.”

Felly’s nothing if not a good sport. She takes a hesitant sip, her face immediately scrunching up at the unfiltered bitterness. Hyunjin can’t help but smile.

“Really good.” She clears her throat and pushes the glass further down the counter, away from everyone. “Tastes just like . . . alcohol.”

“Bottom shelf,” Changbin brags, waggling his eyebrows at Hyunjin. “Nothing but the worst for my two taste-testers, since Lee Know won’t let me practice with the good stuff. Thank you for playing, Felly.”

“Anytime,” she replies, washing her mouth out with water. “Ugh, I don’t know how anybody enjoys that stuff.”

“Oh, man, it’s a standard of living where I come from,” Hyunjin says. “We’ve got a whole holiday dedicated to alcohol, and not even good alcohol.”

Felly glances up, almost surprised. “What’s that?”

“Uh, in New Orleans,” he explains. “Mardi Gras, it’s a day—a bunch of days, really—where you drink as much as possible before Lent. They’ll serve crude oil in a glass if it gets you drunk.”

Binnie nods, intrigued. “Ah, I’ve heard of that. It sounds like a disaster, though.”

“It is, always,” Hyunjin agrees. “But they call it ‘culture’ and they’ll never stop doing it.”

Felly has a funny look on her face, like she doesn’t know how to respond. Hyunjin wonders if he said something offensive, but he can’t think of what it would have been. 

“Anyway,” he says. “What’s next on the menu, bartender?”

“Hey now,” Binnie warns, “I’ll get in trouble if I waste too much liquor while Lee Know’s gone. But,” he levels a look at Hyunjin, “one more for you , if you want.”

“Oh, well,” Hyunjin drawls, “I can’t pass up an offer like that. Do your worst, Binnie.”

Felly smiles fondly at them, patting Binnie on the shoulder and Hyunjin on the wrist. “Y’all have fun with that. I think I’ll put something on for supper before Lee Know and Jeongin get back.”

Binnie tuts. “You’re too nice to him.”

“Yeah!” Hyunjin echoes, taking the opportunity to pat her wrist back. “You’re too good for him! Let him cook his own dinner! Or let him starve!”

“Yeah, let him starve!” Binnie chants.

Felly just laughs and shakes her head, turning to head into the kitchen. 

As soon as she’s gone, Hyunjin feels his smile fade as he turns back to Binnie. “Hey,” he says, “did I say something wrong a minute ago?”

Binnie raises an eyebrow. “When Felly got that funny look on her face, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugs, cocking his head. “I don’t think you did, no. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. But don’t worry about it.”

That’s definitely a nice way of saying don’t ask questions, so Hyunjin just hums and glances away. It’s only been a week and a half since he met Felly, but he can’t help but wonder about her. It’s not like he’s been the most forthcoming about his own past, but he still knows virtually nothing about who she is. Or Binnie, for that matter. Actually, that seems to be a running theme in The Saloon.

Yet another reason to stick around in Jay Park, he supposes.

~~~

Felix isn't the best fucking cook in the world by any means, but he can throw together a good rice and gravy. He and Binnie had supper, even though it was a little early, after Jinnie went home. They stack their dishes in the sink, not bothering to wash them. The kitchen is quiet, and the setting sun casts orange rays in through the windows. It’s calm. 

“You could have gone home too, you know,” Felix says, still using Felly’s high voice. “It’s not like there was anyone here, anyway.”

“I know,” Binnie replies, “I didn’t wanna leave you here all alone, though.”

Felix rolls his eyes, hopping up to sit on the counter. “I live here, Binnie. And you let me quit early all the time.”

“Well, yeah,” Binnie smiles, leaning against the counter next to him. “That’s my job though.”

“I should get to send you home whenever I want to,” Felix protests. “It’s only fair.”

“Nah.” Binnie absently stretches his right arm, rolling his shoulder back and forth. “See, it only works one way. I’m technically in charge of you—”

“You are not.”

“—and you’re also a lady, so I’m not gonna make you deal with all these rowdy saloon patrons all by yourself, that would just be irresponsible of me—”

“Oh, please.” Felix waves him off, glancing away. “The regulars are nice, they don’t bother me. And if they did, you know I’d handle it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Binnie is quiet for a second, still rubbing at his shoulder. He leans into Felix just a little bit, and Felix rests a hand on his back. It’s comfortable. 

This happens a lot. In the two months Felix has worked with Binnie, pleasant conversation and casual silence have become so natural. It feels good to be able to exist so easily with someone. But it makes him nervous, too, because the more comfortable he gets, the closer he is to just spilling everything. And obviously he can’t let that happen.

When Jinnie mentioned New Orleans today, Felix almost let his act drop. He came dangerously close to asking more questions. Where did Jinnie grow up? Who was his family? Why did he leave? Felix is practically itching for any little details of home, but every question he wanted to ask would have just led to questions about himself. 

“What’s the matter?” Binnie asks nonchalantly, breaking the silence as he glances at Felix. His brown eyes catch the sunlight like stained glass. 

“Nothing,” Felix assures him with a smile, rubbing his back. “Just thinkin’.”

Binnie hums. 

That anxious feeling settles back in. Felix can’t do this forever. Every time he has to dodge a question, or lie, or tell someone a fake name, or cover up his voice, it gets a little more exhausting. Why is he even here, trying to stay in this place?

“You know,” Binnie’s voice interrupts his thoughts again, “I’ve been thinking. We don’t talk about ourselves much.”

Felix glances up. His pulse quickens. Where is this about to go? 

Binnie continues, “Obviously, I don’t have a problem with that. I don’t need to know anything about you if you don’t want me to. But I don’t want you to think that you can’t tell me stuff.” He looks up, his dark eyes settling on Felix’s. “I can just listen, if you ever want me to.”

Fuck. Something closes around Felix’s heart and squeezes. He has to look away, mind scrambling for some kind of response. How can Binnie read him so easily? How can he say something like that as if it’s nothing?

“You don’t have to say anything,” Binnie says, patting Felix’s knee through the layers of his skirt. “I just wanted to tell you.”

Lord have mercy. 

“Binnie.” He takes Binnie’s hand and grasps it tightly. His real voice threatens to slip out, but he holds it back. “Thank you. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome.” Binnie smiles. Not the usual confident smirk or the excited grin, but the small, soft smile that he always seems to save just for Felix. 

Not Felix, he corrects himself, Felly. 

He clears his throat. “You should go home,” he says, hopping off the counter. He can’t resist giving Binnie’s face a little pat. He smiles and hopes it looks genuine. “You spend enough time in this place.”

Binnie sighs, his gaze lingering on Felix a moment longer. “Speak for yourself,” he says, giving Felix’s hand one last squeeze before he meanders out the kitchen door.

God, why does everything always have to be so hard?

~~~

Chris is waiting outside The General Store, petting the cats and counting the minutes, when Lee Know and Jeongin finally get back. It’s getting chilly now that the sun has set. Chris’s shirt had another unexplainable mishap today, making him extra cold and extra impatient. 

They’re late, and Chris couldn’t help but worry as the sky got darker and darker with no sign of his friends’ return. A whole slew of bad things could happen to a wagon traveling by itself in this part of the country.

But sure enough, they get back without any visible damage.

“Cutting it a bit close, aren’t we?” Chris asks as Lee Know and Jeongin climb stiffly off the wagon.

“Somebody forgot about his shady appointments until the last minute. I swear, and he tells me not to be late . . .” Jeongin stretches and groans, picking up his box of church ministry supplies. He frowns at Chris. “What’s the matter with your shirt?”

“I don’t know, it just happened.”

Jeongin moves on, turning to Lee Know. “Do you need me to unload stuff?”

Lee Know waves him off. “No, our big strong sheriff can help with that. Take your Jesus stuff and run along.”

Jeongin gives him a lazy half-salute. “Sir, yes sir.”

Lee Know swats at him as he passes. “Smartass.”

“Teenagers,” Chris tuts, shaking his head. “So difficult at this age. Bye, Jeongin.”

“Bye Chris. See you at church tomorrow, yeah?” He gives Chris a poke in the stomach and sends a pointed look back as he walks into The Saloon.

“Ouch. See, what’d I say?” Chris turns back to Lee Know. “Okay, boss, tell me what to do.”

It takes them a little while to unload everything. Most of the boxes are heavy, some are suspiciously light. Chris doesn't ask what’s in any of them, he just brings them into the storeroom and stacks them wherever Lee Know tells him to.

“So,” Chris prompts, setting down a box with a huff. “Anything . . . uh, interesting happen in town today?”

Lee Know raises his eyebrows. “Nothing you should be concerned about, sheriff.”

Chris raises his hands. “Just making sure.”

Every time Lee Know comes back from town, Chris is always half expecting him to bring bad news, like rumors or wanted posters of one of their friends. Each week that passes without those things is a relief. Still, it feels like it’ll only be a matter of time before those things catch up. 

“Jeongin lost me a poker game, though,” Lee Know complains, setting down his last crate. It’s open, piled full of random miscellaneous things that he must have bought on a whim.

“How’d that happen?” Chris asks.

Lee Know shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He came and found me ‘cause I was running late. And he spoiled my hand.”

Chris tries not to smile. He fails. “That’s awful,” he says. “Really unfortunate.”

“Laugh it up. I’ll raise that kid’s rent so high he’ll be indentured to The Saloon until he dies.”

Allowing himself a chuckle, Chris bends down to poke through the open crate. “Seriously, though, what’d he do?” 

Groaning, Lee Know sits on the cement floor across from him. “He literally just walked in and it was all eyes on him. Stuck out like a sore thumb. He was the only person in the whole building that didn’t look like some kind of criminal. It was embarrassing.”

“Wait,” Chris pauses dramatically. “You mean you were in some kind of illicit establishment?” He pretends to be surprised. “Lee Know. You shouldn’t associate with gamblers and thieves. It’s unladylike.” He keeps rummaging through the box of Lee Know’s random impulse purchases. 

Lee Know scowls at him. “What are you looking for, contraband? That’s only in the closed boxes.”

Of course Chris isn’t about to actually look for contraband. He knows better than to look too closely at anything Lee Know is associated with. His job is to keep Jay Park safe, not to run a police state. Suppressing local small businesses is not included in his duties as sheriff.

“No,” Chris drawls, “I’m just curious what kind of junk you spend your money on. What’re these things?” He picks up two little metal tins, both sealed and unlabeled.

“Watercolor paints.”

“What for?”

“Jinnie, duh. He asked if I could find him some new pencils, but I got a good price on the paints, too.”

Look at this big softie! Again, Chris can’t help his smile. “Aw, Lee Know. That’s thoughtful of you.” He pokes out a finger to jab Lee Know in the ribs.

“Shut up,” he swats Chris’s finger away. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh right, sorry, sorry,” Chris nods apologetically. “It’s actually really selfish and unfeeling of you. What’s this?” he asks again, this time holding up a small paper package wrapped in twine.

“Herbal tea, can’t you read? It’s for Felly.”

“Felly drinks tea?”

“Drinks me out of house and home,” Lee Know mumbles. “Would you stop looking through all my stuff?”

“Hey,” Chris levels a finger at him. “Just be glad I’m not inspecting all your purchases, you crook.” 

“Inspect this,” Lee Know says, accompanied by a middle finger.

Chris grabs Lee Know’s whole hand and squeezes it, grinning. “You’re a sweetie,” he teases. “You love your friends, you little angel!”

“Shut. Up.” Lee Know grits his teeth, clearly trying not to smile, snatching his hand back. “I’m trying to be mean to you. You’re like a five-year-old.”

“I can’t help it, your cuteness demands commentary!” Chris giggles, standing up. “Okay, seriously. I’ll leave you alone. Do you wanna come over for dinner?”

Lee Know stands too, stretching. “Maybe. I’ll see if Felly cooked.”

“Alright.” Chris smacks him on the back as he leaves the storeroom. “I’ll see you later then.” He points a warning finger with as much seriousness as he can muster. “Be good.”

Chapter Text

Seungmin wakes up knowing that today is going to be a good day by virtue of two things. One, it’s Sunday, and every Sunday is a good day in his books as long as Jeongin is providing the service (Seungmin’s not even a particularly religious guy). Two, it’s the day after Lee Know goes into town which means he has the perfect excuse to “investigate” The Saloon. A task he does solely for the purpose of aggravating Chris and (depending on how he swings it) also Bin, who never fails to react to his pestering.

“Any more coffee?”

“Huh?” Seungmin hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings, too caught up in his plans for the day. As a result, Lee Know gets the jump on him. 

Now that he’s blinked back into reality, he can see Lee Know holding the coffee pot over his head, threatening. 

“Get away from me,” he says, pushing Lee Know away. “You’ll be out of a job later. Mark my words.” 

Lee Know rolls his eyes, still reaching to fill up Seungmin’s cup. “Enjoy being homeless then.” 

“Oh, thank God!” Jeongin sighs, coming down the stairs. “You’ve finally kicked him out.”

He sits down next to Seungmin (his first mistake) and reaches across the table to grab the biscuits (his second). Seungmin reaches them first. As he moves his other arm to trap Jeongin in front of him, he notes that he’s already in his Sunday best. 

“Aw but you’d miss me! Wouldn’t you?” He’s grinning, but Jeongin can’t see as he struggles. “Got anything good planned for the homily this time?” 

“Will you quit it? Let me go!” Jeongin continues to struggle. “Lee Know! Tell him to let me go!”

Lee Know pokes his head up from his paper. For a moment, he’s confused, mouth forming an “o” before taking in the scene before him, grinning. “I have the right to remain silent, Jeongin. Can’t help you here.”

Seungmin barks out a laugh and lets him go, handing over the biscuits as he does. Jeongin grimaces at them as he corrects himself. He shakes out his hair and pulls his coat back on neat, making Seungmin wait with the bread suspended in the air. 

“Thank you,” He huffs, finally taking the biscuits from him. 

After that breakfast becomes a boring affair. Seungmin goes back to planning his day of reckoning. He has no real intention of shutting this place down. Everyone knows this. He’d be putting himself out of house and home. He’d have to go live with Han, or worse, Christopher. 

That being said, Seungmin has every intention of maximizing the amount of stress he puts Chris through today. Well, he has every intention after he watches Jeongin completely fail at his homily. 

~~~

Sundays are normally the days when Han is most likely to go into town, but today his plans have changed. Last Sunday was a bit of an embarrassment, what with losing that bet to the sheriff and all. He doesn’t want his reputation to retain that. 

So instead he decides to avoid Jay Park and all its inhabitants for another few days, just to let the dust settle. That should be easy as long as Han stays home, since nobody ever comes out to the boxcar.

Which means it’s extra surprising when Felix pays him a visit.

“Hey!” his voice calls outside the boxcar. “Anybody home?”

Han sits up straight. He scurries to the doorway and sticks his head out. “Felix?” he asks. “What’s up?”

Sure enough, Felix is outside in his Sunday dress, squinting up at Han. 

“Thought I’d drop by to say hello,” he says with a smile. “Help me up there, will you?”

It’s actually strange to see someone else out here. Han’s never had a guest at the boxcar. Shit, should he have cleaned up a little? It’s not like he was expecting company. But it would be ridiculous for him to turn away a visitor, especially Felix. 

“Sure,” Han reaches a hand down and hauls him up. He gestures broadly to the space. “Welcome to my crib.”

Felix glances around. “Wow. This is it.”

Han nods, shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah, I know. Here, let me give you the tour.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Felix confirms. “The tour.”

“This is the pantry,” Han says, waving to the corner stacked with crates of his most important supplies. “It’s got food, clean water, extra clothes, all the essentials. I keep it pretty well organized, y’know, ‘cause I know how to take care of my shit.”

“Very nice,” Felix says. Clearly, he’s impressed. How could he not be?

“And over here—” Han points out the opposite corner of the room, at the pile of blankets and straw that comprises his bed. “We got the nest. Yeah, it’s pretty cozy. See that horse blanket? Stole that a couple weeks ago. Easy lift.”

Felix nods slowly. “That’s . . . good.”

“That’s about it for the big stuff. Open floor plan, y’know? It’s pretty spacious.”

“Right.” Felix clears his throat, patting Han’s shoulder. “You really do live here.”

Han smirks. “Thanks. Anyway, yeah, make yourself at home.”

“Do you have a favorite spot to, um,” he glances around, “sit and chat?”

~~~

“It’s raidin’ time, boys!” is the first thing Seungmin says as he bursts through the office doors after church. Chris wants to shoot him. 

He knew this was coming. It happens every other week, this “day” of reckoning. As soon as Lee Know returns with his supplies, Seungmin is on the case like a bloodhound. Really, it’s the only time he puts any effort into this job. Too much effort. 

Chris sighs, putting his head in his hands. “Seungmin, it’s Sunday. The day of rest. No reason for us to be working, really. Who commits crime on the Lord’s day?” 

“Criminals.” Seungmin fires back, collecting his stuff on his desk. ”Like your pal, Lee Know and your buddy, Changbin.” 

Chris is going to run out of air with the amount he’s sighing. “Seungmin. Please.”

“Oh, I’ll get 'em, Chris! Don’t worry.” Seungmin’s grin is so devilish you wouldn’t know he’s just come back from church. “I won’t let these fiends get away.” 

He’s finished getting all his shit together, so Chris finally gets up to intercept him at the door. 

“Now, Seungmin. Let’s think about this, really,” He pleads. 

“I’ve thought about it.” His face turns somber suddenly. “I’ve thought about it. Chris, I need to be a better deputy for you. I need to solve more crimes. That starts today .” And that somber look is gone. It’s replaced by a grin and wink as he skids past him out the door. 

“Get back here!” Chris scrambles to his desk to grab his hat and his holster before running behind him. 

These damn kids, he thinks, making it outside while Seungmin is already halfway to The Saloon. He sprints to reach him, hoping to compete against Seungmin’s naturally longer legs. By the time Chris catches up to him they’re both at the door. Hands on his knees, Chris stops to breathe.  

“Be careful, old man. We don’t want your heart to give out.” 

Chris barely has time to cut Seungmin a glare before his deputy is gone. He contemplates, briefly, what would happen if he just sat down. Right here on the porch. If he gave up the bit and let Seungmin fumble his way through this joke investigation alone. 

He’s in the process of doing just that when he hears Seungmin’s shout and Binnie’s groan, and suddenly he’s back to standing, pushing the door open to check on the scene inside. 

“Do we really have to do this every time?” Binnie whines. He’s at the bar, cleaning an already-sparkling glass as Seungmin bends over to inspect what he’s doing. It's the first thing Chris sees when steps inside. “What am I gonna be charged with this time? Unlawful possession of a dish rag?” 

Seungmin’s brow furrows. “Now that you mention it, I might have to bag that up for evidence.” He snatches the rag from Bin’s hands, springing away from the bar. 

“What the Hell! Give that back, I was using it!” Bin fumes. 

Chris sees him briefly consider scaling to the bar to tackle the deputy. He watches the thought pass over his face. His hand resting preemptively on the bar top. Chris should probably step in and do something before he makes his decision, but the part of him that is Binnie’s roommate really wants to see him make that jump. Unfortunately before he does anything, his gaze moves from the bar to catch Chris’s. And just like that his cover is blown. Time to get back to work. 

“Seungmin, give the man back his rag.” He sighs, moving towards where the two of them stand by the would-be hurdle. He takes a seat at one of the stools. “He’s clearly hard at work.” 

Seungmin scoffs, reluctantly tossing the rag at the bartender. He makes sure to aim for his face, and Bin sputters as the target lands. 

“Whatever, I’d like to speak with your manager.” 

Said “manager,” as Seungmin called him, is already turning into the bar proper with a large crate balanced in his arms. Lee Know hardly spares them a glance. Instead, he drops the crate he’s holding in front of Seungmin. 

“There’s all your illegal stuff, deputy. Feel free to look through it. I’ll be in the kitchen whenever you feel like arresting me.” Lee Know turns on his heel and leaves like it's nothing.

“Oh come on! I know this junk is just for show. This stuff is hardly even illegal—”

Chris, peering around Seungmin, notices something very much illegal. “I think that might be opium . . .” 

Seungmin pretends not to hear him, obviously having no real intention of enforcing the law. His main goal is annoyance, Chris knows this. So he really isn’t surprised when he bypasses the crate entirely, choosing instead to follow Lee Know into the kitchen. 

“Lee Know, get back here! I want to look at your books!” he calls out. 

After he’s gone, the bar is quiet. Binnie goes back to cleaning his glass (Chris is certain it’s the same one he was cleaning earlier), and Chris folds himself over on top of the bar, pillowing his hands in his crossed arms.

“So, what the fuck was that?” Jinnie pipes up from somewhere behind him. If Chris was less tired, it would have spooked him. He hadn’t seen him in all the chaos earlier when he came in. “Is Lee Know a criminal? Oh Lord, is The Saloon gonna be shut down? Is that opium?”

Chris doesn’t have time for this. He lifts his head up to look at Jinnie who is now crouched over the crate, digging through it. He watches him touch almost everything. It’s a good thing Chris has no desire to actually collect any of that stuff as evidence. Especially so when he sees Jinnie’s attention catch on the sealed metal tins Lee Know showed him the other night. 

“Hey!” Jinnie twists to look up at Chris. “Are these what I think these are—what happened to your shirt?”

Huh ? He looks down. “Oh, fuck me!” 

Somehow (Chris cannot even imagine how this possibly could have happened) his shirt has been ripped. It now sits cropped at the waist, leaving his midriff for all and sundry to see. 

“Binnie, give me some juice! On the rocks.” And with that, he clunks his head against the wood of the bar and prays this day passes by a little faster. Maybe he should have attended the service today after all.

~~~

Han and Felix sit in the boxcar’s doorway, dangling their legs off the side and looking out at the clear sky over the desert. Much to Han’s appreciation, Felix brought a tin of cinnamon candy for them to share while they talk. Felix is always doing nice things like that.

“You have a pretty view,” Felix says. 

“It’s the best part,” Han agrees. 

They make slow conversation about this and that. Felix tells Han about the few new developments in town this week. He talks a bit about Jinnie, that jackass from the bar last Sunday, but Han tries to keep his complaining to a minimum since Felix seems to really like the guy. For some reason, though, he sounds almost sad when he talks about the bar and his friends. It’s unlike him.

“You should stop by The Saloon more often,” Felix says. “You’d like hangin’ around with us there. You’d get along with Jinnie, believe it or not. You guys are kinda similar.”

Han gags dramatically. “Uh, gross. I would come by The Saloon more, if it wasn’t such a hassle. I’m a busy guy, Felix. Biggest outlaw in West Texas and all, in case you forgot.”

Felix raises his eyebrows. “Right. Pardon me for that.” 

That was an awfully subdued response. 

“Don’t sweat it.” Han pops another candy, looking at his friend from the corner of his eye. “Hey, are you alright today? You don’t seem like yourself.”

Shrugging, Felix looks back out at the landscape. “Sorry. Yesterday was a weird day for me. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, I won’t bother you with it.”

“You don’t bother me,” Han says. “You brought me candy, so I owe you. Shoot.”

Felix squirms, leaning back against the doorway. “I’m just tired of lying to everybody all the time. It kinda caught up with me yesterday, I don’t know.”

Han wouldn’t really know anything about that, having nothing to lie about himself. So he just nods and stays quiet, letting Felix continue.

“I don’t want my friends to think I’m fucking Felly forever.” He messes with the hem of his dress. “I want them to think of me as me. I don’t wanna lead them on, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Han pauses uncertainly. “Except you are Felly. You aren’t a different person just ‘cause you use a different name and wear different clothes, right?”

Felix shakes his head, prodding Han’s arm. “Listen. I was talking with Binnie yesterday. I was thinking about how much it bothers me that I can’t be honest with him, and then out of nowhere he got all serious and said I shouldn’t be afraid to tell him things. Like, he read my mind.”

“That’s so . . . coincidental?” Is this how you act supportive?

Felix squeezes his arm. “You don’t get it. He looked at me, and it felt like he was looking at my heart. Like, fuck . . . what am I even saying?” He presses a hand to his face. “I can’t keep lying to him, Han. I don’t wanna do that to him.”

Maybe this conversation isn’t about what Han thought it was about. He frowns, rubbing Felix’s hand. “Man, it’s alright, just listen.” He waits for Felix to look at him. “Have you considered . . . telling him?”

Felix blinks. “Huh?”

“Hear me out. You don’t want to keep lying to Binnie. He tells you, flat out, that you can tell him anything. So what if you did that?”

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?”

“Yeah, what does that have to do with anything?”

Felix looks away, pressing his hand to his face again. His other hand still grips Han’s. “What if he’s mad that I lied?”

Han narrows his eye. “That would be ridiculous. How much personal information do you know about him?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “Exactly. He can’t be mad about you hiding your past ‘cause he’s doing the exact same thing, just not in a dress.”

Felix shakes his head, looking utterly lost. Han feels bad that he can’t help more, but he really has no experience to draw from here.

“Look,” he says, patting Felix’s hand again, “why don’t you just give it a couple days? See if an opportunity presents itself.”

“Hm. Maybe.” He doesn’t sound convinced, but he lets the subject drop. “Thanks for letting me talk about that. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Han replies, kind of surprised that he actually means it. Maybe he will drop by The Saloon sometime soon, just to make Felix feel better.

~~~

“I gotta run to the post office before it closes,” Lee Know says, putting on his coat. “You can leave when I get back. If you try to close early, I’ll know about it and I’ll find you and I’ll kill you.”

“Roger that,” Changbin replies lazily, watching Lee Know swing the front door shut behind him. The post office is closed on Sundays. He absently wonders what Lee Know is actually going out to do. Probably the typical ambiguous and shady errands.

Sighing, he unbuttons his vest and pours himself a drink.

After the big “investigation” this morning, Changbin’s day passed slowly. Not that the big “investigation” was all that exciting, since the exact same thing has happened every other week since he got to Jay Park four months ago.

Jinnie stuck around for a while, so Changbin passed the time by flirting and joking like usual. Once he went home, though, everything was boring. The Saloon really isn’t worth being at when Felly and Jinnie aren’t there to keep him company.

It’s evening now, and The Saloon is all but deserted. Changbin takes a seat and puts his feet up. Regardless of Lee Know’s threats, he could totally close early and go home. But of course he stays and waits to make sure Felly gets back safe.

It’s almost eight o’clock when she gets home, coming through the back door of The Saloon. She hurries in, windblown and distracted, hardly looking up as she makes for the stairs.

“Hey there,” Binnie calls. “What’s your rush, pretty lady?”

“Oh!” her voice is surprised as she looks over, halting. “Binnie, I’m sorry, dear! I didn’t even see you. Are you closing tonight?”

“Yeah. Lee Know went to the ‘post office,’ so I’m holdin’ down the fort.”

“I can see that,” she says, nodding to the empty room. 

There’s a beat of expectant silence. Changbin raises an eyebrow.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he asks. 

Felly shakes her head, clearing her throat. “Oh no, I’m fine. Just a little tired from the walk, I suppose. Do you need anything before I head up?”

That’s odd, Changbin notes. She doesn’t want to stay down here and talk? 

“No,” he replies, “I’m all good down here. But I’ll miss your company,” he adds, hoping she’ll humor him.

And naturally, because she’s an angel, she does. 

“Of course,” she says immediately, finally moving to sit across from him. She pats his hand with a smile that seems a little too stiff. “I’m sure you’ve been bored to death all day without me, huh?”

Changbin feels a little bad for baiting her. He smiles back and takes her hand in his. “I sure was,” he confirms. “Although, this morning was lively. More lively than I would have liked on a Sunday morning. Seungmin ‘investigated’ us again.”

She raises her eyebrows sarcastically. “How unusual. Must’ve been a riot.” 

“You bet,” Changbin nods. “It was real exciting. To be honest, though, I’d rather hear about your day. You went to see Han, right?”

Felly hums, absently tracing the lines in his palm. “Yeah. That boxcar is somethin’ else, Binnie, you should see it. Actually, you shouldn’t, ‘cause it’s a certifiable hazard. But still, I’m glad I went to visit Han.” She catches Changbin’s eye. “He’s really not so bad, y’know. He’s pretty good to talk to.”

“I never said he was bad,” Changbin objects. “I just think he’s a pain in the ass, and you can’t argue with that.” Felly just smiles and rolls her eyes.

He doesn’t ask, but he wonders what she means that Han is good to talk to. What did she talk to him about? After their conversation yesterday, Changbin hopes maybe she’s starting to open up a little bit. But to Han? When Changbin is right here?

He watches Felly’s dainty fingers trace ticklish paths over his hand. The two of them are so close all the time, literally, and yet at moments like this she feels miles away. Changbin’s not the prying type, but sometimes it's hard to watch when Felly is so clearly struggling to hold things back when he knows she'd feel better if she could confide in someone.

But she seemed nervous when she came home. Maybe he shouldn’t have said those things yesterday, offering himself up as a confidant. It might have been too much at once.

“Hey,” Felly says, her gaze flicking up to his. “What’s the matter?”

Changbin hesitates a moment, just looking at her. Her face is concerned, brows knit over those soft brown eyes, and he would do or say anything in the world to reassure her.

He turns his hand to squeeze hers with a smile. “Just thinkin’,” he replies. “I’m glad you enjoyed your day off. You deserve that, every now and then.” And he can’t help it, he reaches up and tucks a windblown strand of hair behind her ear. 

Felly blinks, speechless for a moment before starting, “I should—”

The front door swings open with a bang and Lee Know’s voice cuts through Felly’s like a blunt ax, “Binnie, what on earth are you still doing here? Don’t you have a life?”

Of course. Inexcusable timing. 

Felly bites her lip, swallowing whatever words she was about to say. Changbin heaves a sigh. 

“Well, my dear,” he stands, giving her hand one last little press, “I’m afraid that’s our cue. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He makes sure to shoot Lee Know a dirty look on his way out.

~~~

“So, boss, what’d you think about all that investigating earlier?” Seungmin grins at Chris from where his feet are propped up by the fire. 

It’s by some miracle he was actually invited over to Chris’s for dinner. Seungmin thinks it has something to do with the fact that Chris wanted to keep an eye on him, and what better than to do so in the comfort of your own home? Annoyances aside. 

“It sure was something.” Chris doesn’t look impressed. 

“I thought it was brilliant!” says Jinnie from the couch. 

“No you didn’t!” Chris cuts in, pushing Jinnie on the shoulder lightly. Jinnie flops to the floor as if thrown from his seat. 

“Oh, brave deputy! Won’t you arrest this man?! He’s made a clear attempt on my life!” He wails from the floor, sending out a hand towards Seungmin.

Seungmin rolls his eyes. This is getting old. It’s high time for him to leave. 

“Nevermind. I hate you guys.” 

Chris laughs, trying to intercept him from his trek to the door for a hug. 

“Aw, Minnie! I had so much fun playing with you today.”

Seungmin grimaces at him in disgust. “Don’t call me that! I’m leaving.”

The last thing Seungmin hears as he leaves the house of horrors is a chorus of “Bye, Minnies!” from both Christopher and Jinnipher. God, he is never coming back here. It’s way more fun to stay at his own place and bother his roommates. Like that minister. 

I wonder what Jeongin’s doing tomorrow.

Chapter Text

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” says Felix, making the Sign of the Cross as he sits across from Jeongin, who sighs. 

How many times is this going to happen? Jeongin swears he’s told Felix before that he’s not actually a priest, and yet here they are again.

“Felix, again,” Jeongin begins, “I’m not—”

“—My sins include . . .” Felix takes a deep breath, “lying, mostly. About the usual things. Do I need to specify?”

Jeongin shakes his head. “Felly, you really don’t need to—”

“You’re right, I’ll give a summary just to be safe.” Felix clears his throat. “I mostly lie about my identity, like my past and my real name. Also, I pretend to be a woman, but I’m not sure if that’s a sin in and of itself or if it’s just grouped in with lying. Also, I curse a lot when I’m not pretending to be a woman, which I really ought to work on. Do you think I should be more detailed?”

“Nah, you’re good,” Jeongin replies, resigned. No use in turning him away now. Since Felix is already here, Jeongin might as well see it through. “Anything else you wanna get off your chest?”

Felix thinks for a moment, pursing his lips. “Well, there was the big one, but I confessed that already, so I guess there’s nothing else.”

Jeongin nods. “Sounds good. Well, I don’t have the authority to retain or forgive anything in the name of God, but I really don’t think you need to feel too bad, Felix.”

Felix is about to respond when the chapel’s front door creaks open. Jeongin looks up to find Seungmin, of all people, poking his head in. He catches Jeongin’s eye and strikes a pose. Ugh.

“Oh,” Felix puts Felly’s voice back on. “I guess I should wrap this up. Oh, should I do an Act of Contrition?”

Jeongin waves her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

She pats Jeongin’s knee, gathering up her coat and pocketbook. “Okay, well, thanks for taking the time to hear my confession, Jeongin. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Felly,” Jeongin sighs. “What do you want, deputy?”

“Can’t a man just stop by his local church?” Seungmin asks defensively. He strolls in slowly, nodding to Felly. “I didn’t realize that was some kind of offense.”

“It is if you’re the man,” Jeongin replies, crossing his arms as Felly stands to leave. “And don’t you know you’re supposed to take your hat off in church?”

“Oh, right, pardon me.” Seungmin makes a big show of taking off his hat and chucking it back towards the front door as hard as he can.

Felly suppresses a giggle, swatting Seungmin’s arm. “I’ll see you boys later,” she says, nodding to the both of them on her way out.

“What was up with that?” Seungmin asks once she’s out the door. He sits down in the chair she just vacated. “Does she do that a lot? The confession thing, not the laughing at my hilarious shenanigans thing.”

“That’s none of your business,” Jeongin replies smoothly. “Sanctity of the confessional. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t count, you’re not even a real priest. And by the way, I don’t know if that’s legally a crime, but if it is I fully intend to bring you to justice. How often do you fraudulently hear confessions?”

“How often do you ever leave me alone?” he retorts. “Shouldn’t you be at the sheriff’s station bothering Chris right now?”

“It’s my lunch break,” Seungmin defends. “I bother Chris all day every day, I would much rather spend this valuable time bothering you.” He glances around the empty chapel. “Hey, where’s all your kids?”

“It’s my lunch break too, duh. They’ll be back at one o’clock.”

“Oh, good, that means I can stick around. Hey, what if I sat in on one of your classes? Do you think you could teach me to read?”

Oh, he has got to put a stop to this before it takes off. Teaching is enough stress as it is, he absolutely doesn’t need Seungmin to witness it. Or even worse, interfere with it. That would be enough to drive Jeongin out of town completely and then he’d have to join the military for real.

“You already know how to read, and you cannot sit in on one of my classes,” he says definitively. “I mean it. I’ll call Chris on you if you try.”

Seungmin feigns indignation, putting an offended hand over his heart. “Well then!” he scoffs. “Fine. You don’t have to call the cops on me, I didn’t wanna sit in on your silly class anyway.”

“Good.” Jeongin stands. “I’m going to The Saloon. You can stick around all you want, but I’ll have to lock you in.”

“No thanks,” Seungmin says, springing up. “Church is no fun without you.” He stays right on Jeongin’s heels all the way to the door, only pausing to pick his hat up off the floor. 

“Whatever,” Jeongin mumbles, grabbing his coat. “Do you wanna come eat lunch with me?”

“Duh. What else would I be doing?”

~~~

Hyunjin hardly even notices Seungmin and Jeongin entering the Saloon, too busy turning over in his hands the little tins he found in Lee Know’s crate the other day. 

He knows that it’s watercolor paint. He has his own set at home, tucked into his desk covered by mounds of paper with the intention of hiding them from his father. Those in his desk are worn with use, the paints running together to create muddied shades of the originals. 

The tins in his hands are still sealed. He knows that inside the colors are perfectly pressed, untouched. 

Is this for me? he wonders, still turning the tins around. He finally tears away his eyes, hoping to catch Lee Know’s as if he could confirm it. I had asked for pencils.

These are not pencils. 

It makes him giddy, the idea of being able to apply color to his sketches, to bathe them in bright hues. He thinks, absently, that his drawings of Felly would look magical swimming in blue. Felly as the sun in a bright summer sky. He wonders at what colors he could invent, what landscapes he could capture. 

Lee Know isn’t anywhere in Hyunjin’s line of sight. He must be hidden in the store room or working in the kitchen. Hyunjin is almost relieved. Knowing Lee Know he’d probably make fun of him for caring so much about a few tins of paint. 

Even though Lee Know isn’t there to catch his gaze, Changbin does, shooting him a flirtatious wink that makes Hyunjin roll his eyes even as he feels his cheeks heat up. Felly is right next to him, leaning in so that their shoulders touch as she talks to Jeongin and Seungmin who are sitting at the bar.  

It makes him ache, seeing all his new friends be so domestic with each other, seeing them fit together like puzzle pieces. He aches to click in alongside them. He wonders if he even could, or if the picture is already complete. He aches to draw it (and now to paint it) so that even if he leaves he’s left with a memory. 

He turns away from the scene, a soft smile on his face that feels more like a grimace as he yearns. His eyes return to the shiny metal tins. 

I wonder if there’s any good paper. Hyunjin could make do with a few sketchbook pages, but the paper is a bit too thin to absorb the water. He knows cotton paper can get expensive, but he’ll pay Lee Know back. I should probably find out what I owe him for the paint, too. 

Before he can think about it too long, there’s a movement by his table that draws Hyunjin’s attention. Lee Know has materialized beside him carrying something in his hands. He lays it down on the table between.

It’s a block of watercolor paper. Hyunjin’s eyes widen in realization. He glances between Lee Know and the paper in quick succession. Eyes still wide, mouth agape. 

“What . . .” he whispers. Hyunjin is pretty sure he’s shell shocked. 

“Huh?” Lee Know isn’t even looking at him. “Oh, yeah. I found that in the garbage. Enjoy!”

With that, he turns to disappear again, tossing the pencils Hyunjin had originally asked for at him as he does. Hyunjin has to dodge out of the way to prevent impact. The interaction was fleeting, but Hyunjin is left more confused about Lee Know’s intentions than he was when he found the tins of paint.

“What was that about?” Felly askes, pitcher in hand, as she comes to refill Hyunjin’s forgotten glass of water. 

“I—I honestly have no clue. He got me paints,” he stutters.

Felly smiles at him gently like he’s a particularly assuming child, naïvely out of the loop. She pats him on the shoulder, letting her hand rest there for a moment as she looks at him. 

“Oh, honey,” she says, “that's Lee Know for you.” 

Hyunjin isn’t so sure that’s correct, but as he looks up into Felly’s sunny smile, his focus shifts from whatever is going on with Lee Know to the paints in his hand. He is itching to get back to his room, so that he can capture that smile in brilliant watercolors.

~~~

Seungmin’s week has been boring. Mostly because Chris has had him chained to his desk at the sheriff’s station doing paperwork for the last few days, so he hasn’t had any time to go bother Lee Know or Changbin or Jeongin. His sole purpose in life, and he’s been unable to fulfill it. It hurts.

So he’s relieved when on Friday he finally has the chance to goof off and go visit the chapel in the afternoon. It’s around three o’clock, which means there should be about an hour left before school is dismissed. Perfect timing.

Obviously, Jeongin doesn’t want Seungmin to be there while he’s teaching. He made that pretty clear the other day. But Seungmin is completely determined to support his good friend in his professional environment, so he’s going to ignore that.

Walking up to the chapel door, he slows. From inside, the noise of rowdy kids drifts out. It’s a lot rowdier than school should sound, if Seungmin had to guess.

Carefully, he opens the door, trying not to draw attention to himself.

There’s only, like, seven kids in the room, but all of them are either yelling or whining. Jeongin is at the front of the room, trying to calm down one crying girl whose hand is bleeding. She can’t be more than six or seven years old.

“Okay,” he’s saying, raising his voice over the noise, “can you tell me what happened? Can you—no, don’t put it in your mouth—just—”

Seungmin slips in, creeping up to the back row next to two of the more unruly kids.

“Hey,” he whispers, “what are we supposed to be learning? Oh, should I have brought my hymnal?”

Before either of the kids can acknowledge him, Jeongin’s voice interrupts.

“Deputy.” His voice cuts rigidly across the room, more tense than surprised. He’s sending Seungmin a look, like, get your ass over here. “ Come here, please.”

Sighing, Seungmin gets up to join him at the front of the room. He was hoping for a funnier reaction, to be honest. “Funny running into you here,” he says nonchalantly.

“It’s really not,” Jeongin hisses. “What are you even doing here? I told you I didn’t want you sitting in on a school day.” He holds up a hand to silence Seungmin before he can respond. “Never mind, I don’t care. Just—since you’re here, can you be useful for a minute?”

Seungmin frowns. “Well,” he shrugs, “what do you want me to do?”

Jeongin considers for a moment, glancing between the crying girl and the rest of the class, still chattering loudly and paying no attention to Jeongin or Seungmin.

“Can you take care of her hand?” he finally asks. “I don’t want to leave the rest of them unattended. There’s a first aid box in the sacristy.”

“Sure,” Seungmin replies. Suddenly, he feels a little bit bad about dropping by to cause trouble. It seems like the students give Jeongin enough trouble as it is.

So he just does as he’s told and takes the little girl’s non-bleeding hand, leading her to the back of the chapel. He plops her into a chair and goes to rummage through the closet. He has to dig through the shelves for a minute before he finds the first aid stuff, which probably means accidents or injuries like this don’t happen very often. 

Maybe I just caught him on a bad day, Seungmin thinks to himself.

Thankfully, her crying has been mostly reduced to sniffles and hiccups. That’s a relief. Still, she has that wide-eyed, freaked-out look that quiet kids always have. She just stares while Seungmin wipes her hand with a damp handkerchief and unpacks the first aid kit. 

He tries to ask her name and how old she is, but she doesn’t budge. Quiet kids always prefer that unsettling, wide-eyed stare. So instead of making conversation, Seungmin just hums a nursery rhyme while he winds an oversized cloth bandage around the girl’s tiny hand. The words are lost to his memory, but it’s something his mom used to sing when he got cuts or scrapes as a kid. 

But to Seungmin’s surprise, by the time he’s pinning the bandage in place, the little girl has started to mumble the words along to his tune.

He smiles. “You know that song?” 

She nods her head, looking away. 

“It’s a good one. It always helps me feel better, anyway.” 

With the bandaging done, Seungmin packs the box back up and puts it back where it’s supposed to go. He leads the girl back to where the rest of the kids are, noticing Jeongin’s eyes following him the whole way up.

Everyone seems to have calmed down, with most of the students actually going back to their work.

“Thanks,” Jeongin says tiredly, patting the girl’s head as she goes back to her seat.

“No problem,” Seungmin says. “Do you need me to do anything else?”

Jeongin shakes his head, warily observing the now-behaving class. “No, that’s okay.” He pauses. “What was that little song you were singing?”

“Oh, I wasn’t singing, I was just giving her the tune. It’s the Boo-Boo Song, don’t you know it?”

Jeongin raises an eyebrow. “The Boo-Boo Song.”

Seungmin scoffs. “Uh, yeah. It’s a classic.”

“Right. I guess you’ll have to teach it to me, then,” Jeongin replies, but he’s not really focused on his response. He’s still surveying the students.

Again, Seungmin kind of regrets showing up to mess around. Jeongin sometimes grumbles about his kids, and he certainly savors a strong drink after work, but it never occurred to Seungmin that he actually has trouble managing his class. No wonder he didn’t want anybody bothering him in the middle of a school day. Maybe Jeongin could use some actual help every once in a while.

Still, Seungmin thinks again, it’s probably not always like this.

“Well then,” he says, “if there’s nothing else, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Okay,” Jeongin says absently. “Thanks, Seungmin,” he says again.

Aw, so he does know my name. Seungmin pats him on the shoulder as he turns to go. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you at home.”

~~~

The crick forming in Hyunjin's neck tells him he should get up soon, but he makes no move to do so. He sits by the fireplace, more for light than for warmth, practicing with his new watercolors. He’s been working with them for a few days now, but he’s still trying to get used to painting again. He isn’t sure what time it is, but Chris already went to bed, so it’s probably getting late.

“I'm surprised you're still down here,” comes Binnie’s voice as he strolls into the living room. He’d come home and washed up early tonight. “I thought Jinnie was a solitary animal after nine o’clock.”

“It's too dark in the attic," he complains in reply, not looking up. “It's easier to work down here.”

“What’re you working on?” Binnie asks, coming to a stop in front of him.

“Eh, nothing really. I’m just practicing with—” 

Glancing up, the words evaporate in Hyunjin’s mouth because Binnie is dressed down to his undershirt. Holy shit. His arms. His chest. Very visible. Hyunjin blinks, averting his eyes from Binnie’s biceps to his face, which isn’t any better because he’s got those soft eyes fixed on Hyunjin from under messy, curly bangs, holy shit . 

Hyunjin forces his eyes back down to his painting and clears his throat. “Practicing with . . . the paints Lee Know gave me.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Binnie drops into the chair next to him. “Are you liking them?”

It’s fine. It’s just Binnie. So what if he’s got nice arms? And a nice face? Hyunjin exhales. “Yeah, they’re good quality. Pretty similar to the ones I used to have back home. The brushes could be better, but Lee Know didn’t know what he was buying. They’re still good.”

“Mm.” Binnie watches him work for a moment, his eyes tracing the motions of Hyunjin’s brush. “Have you always been an artist?”

An artist. Hyunjin’s never really thought of himself as that. Being an artist is a profession, a career, a whole path of life that he’d never allowed himself to consider. Or, rather, that his family had never allowed him to consider. But “artist” has a nice ring to it.

“Not always,” he replies. “I’ve always liked art, but I never really let myself try it until a couple of years ago.”

“You’re good at it,” Binnie says. “Not that I haven’t said that before, but it’s still true.”

A smile blooms on Hyunjin’s face. “Thanks. I get a lot of practice these days, since there’s nothing else ever going on in this place.”

Binnie smiles back, looking unfairly lovely in the warm firelight. In spite of his attempts to avoid it, Hyunjin can’t help his gaze flicking to Binnie’s arms again. But when he does, something else catches his eye.

He frowns. “Did something happen to your shoulder?”

“Huh? Oh, this?” Binnie sits up straight and extends his right arm, displaying openly what Hyunjin thought he’d seen.

Right underneath his collarbone, a gnarled, irregular scar stands out on the smooth planes of Binnie’s skin. It’s kind of circular, no bigger than a half-dollar. Whatever made it must have hurt.

Hyunjin doesn't realize he’s making a face until Binnie chuckles. “It’s not that bad,” he says, amused.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, trying not to stare. After a few weeks at The Saloon, he’s noticed Binnie’s habit of stretching and rolling that shoulder. He figured it was just joint pain or strained muscles. Hyunjin wants to ask what happened, what left a mark like that, but Binnie always seems to imply a don’t ask questions policy. So instead he simply says, “It looks painful,” and hopes that’s not too awkward of a response.

Binnie shrugs, rubbing the shoulder the same way Hyunijn has seen him do a hundred times. “It was,” he admits. Patting the scar coolly, he adds, “Bullets tend to do that.”

“Wait, you got shot?” Hyunjin blurts before he can stop himself.

“Oh yeah. You’re lookin’ at the exit wound.” Binnie smiles again, and this time it’s the cocky, amused smile Hyunjin is used to. He extends the arm and drapes it casually over the back of Hyunjin’s chair. “Obviously it didn’t keep me down for long. It was a few months ago.”

Hyunjin frowns skepitcally, suddenly remembering who he’s talking to. “Really? How’d it happen?”

Waving him off, Binnie sighs. “Ah, that’s a story for another time. It’s actually not all that exciting, although some would disagree.” That’s a pretty clear end to the subject.

“Of course, I bet it’s a regular, boring gunshot wound,” Hyunjin mumbles, making himself go back to his drawing. “Totally unremarkable injury to sustain.”

“This is the West,” Binnie reminds him, “gunshots are unremarkable. Unless I’m the one making them, of course, in which case they’re extremely impressive.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, a returning smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah, right. I totally buy that.”

“You will one day,” Binnie insists. “Mark my words, Jinnie, you’ll be so impressed.”

The conversation picks back up. They talk about this and that while Hyunjin keeps practicing his brushstrokes, playing with different shades and saturations of color. It’s not lost on him that Binnie told him how he got his scar. Even if it was pretty undetailed, it’s voluntary information. It’s something.

But it’s getting late, and Hyunjin’s neck is sore from staring down at his artwork all evening, and Binnie’s tired from working all day, so it’s time to head upstairs.

Wriggling under the quilt of his cramped attic bed, Hyunjin’s mind is full of messy, tangled thoughts. One tangled thread is about Binnie and his strong, statuesque type of beauty that sometimes catches Hyunjin by surprise. Another is about Felly and her delicate, expressive type of beauty and how confusing and alluring it is. Another one, probably the biggest, most tangled thread, is about how Hyunjin knows he shouldn’t be here with them at all.

But here I am anyway, he reminds himself, closing his eyes decisively. And I want to be with these people. So I’m staying.

~~~

“Is this crooked?” Minho asks over his shoulder, trying to hold the frame up straight from his place on the ladder. 

“How am I supposed to tell if you’re in the way?” Jeongin replies tiredly from somewhere beneath him. “My job is just to hold the ladder.” He half-yawns the last part.

It’s pretty late. The Saloon closed long ago, and everyone else is already upstairs. For it being a Friday night, it’s unusual that Jeongin's still down here at all, much less helping him hang up pictures.

Minho sighs. “You know what? It doesn’t matter if it’s crooked. It’s my Saloon and I get to choose the decorations.”

Jeongin flinches as Minho bangs a nail into the wall, then carefully hooks the frame over it. Climbing down, he brushes his hands off and admires his work. The picture, one of Jinnie’s nice landscape sketches, gazes back down at him.

“Not a terrible job,” he decides. “I have two more frames, so we can pick a couple more drawings to go with it. I’ll even let you choose one, since you’re such a good little helper.”

Jeongin smiles flatly. “Gee, thanks,” he says. “Does Jinnie know you’re doing this?” He raises an eyebrow at the open sketchbook that Minho’s been pulling pages from. 

“It’s not like I asked,” Minho drawls, rolling his eyes. “He’s been so busy with the watercolors that he left the sketchbook here today. Anything left after closing is property of The Saloon, so I just helped myself.”

“That seems illegal.”

“And we all know how much I care about legality. Nah, I just like his drawings. I think they’ll look nice in here.”

Taking a seat at the bar, Jeongin curiously thumbs through the pages. He hums, impressed. “Lot of pictures of Felly in here,” he notes. 

“I know,” Minho agrees, “it’s actually obscene.”

“There’s a few of other people, too, but a lot of her—oh hey, this one’s you. Wow, it’s really accurate.” 

He holds up a detailed drawing of a very ugly cactus.

“Hand it over, I’m hangin’ that one front and center.”

“Maybe you should hang them up tomorrow morning,” Jeongin suggests. “Not that we don’t all love the sound of you hammering the walls down in the middle of the night, but I feel like it could wait.”

“Don’t be silly,” Minho placates, patting Jeongin’s hand, “there’s never any better time than the present. Although I am surprised you’re still awake and choosing to spend time with me.”

“Eh, I couldn’t have gone to sleep with all your ruckus. And tomorrow’s Saturday, so it’s not like I have to worry about waking up for school.”

Minho nods, undoing the clasps on the back of the frame. “School’s been going okay?” he asks, sliding Jinnie’s drawing into it.

Jeongin shrugs, shaking his head. “It’s fine, I guess. Seungmin came to see me today, just to mess with me or whatever. It was embarrassing, though. I had kinda lost control of the class and of course he was there to see it.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Poor kid. He’s always so hard on himself when it comes to teaching.

“Mm. It happens,” Minho says. “I don’t think you need to be embarrassed.”

Jeongin doesn’t reply. Minho glances up to find him frowning down at the sketchbook again, studying one of the drawings. He leans closer to see that it’s a particularly well-done portrait of Felix. Or Felly, he supposes. In it, her eyes crinkle up in a smile and her face seems to glow, even though it’s drawn in pencil. It was clearly done with a lot of care.

“Say,” Jeongin starts, raising an eyebrow, “not that it’s any of our business . . .”

“I know exactly what you’re about to say,” Minho concurs, going back to framing the ugly cactus.

Jeongin glances up with a wide, implicit eye. “And what do you think?”

He scoffs. “The amount of affection oozing out of that sketchbook is completely ridiculous. Jinnie’s laying it on so thick I’m surprised Felly hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“But do you think Jinnie’s even figured it out yet? I mean, not to make assumptions about the guy, but he does seem like the type to be in denial.”

“I don’t know,” Minho sighs, setting the frame down. He gestures to the drawing of Felly. “I think this would remove any hint of plausible deniability, even to the man himself.”

Jeongin studies it for another moment, but a strange, sad look starts to pass over his face. “I sure hope they don’t make a mess outta this thing,” he murmurs. “‘Cause I bet it’ll be complicated.”

You have no idea, Minho thinks.

“Get that sappy shit off my bar,” he says, reaching over and turning a page. “Find me another ugly cactus so mine can have a friend.”

“Sir yes sir,” Jeongin replies dryly, starting to flip through the rest of the sketchbook. “Has Jinnie ever said where he learned to draw?”

Minho makes an I don’t know noise. “Not like he talks about himself much.”

“Hm. Yeah. I wonder if my kids would like something like that.” He rests his chin on one hand, absently turning pages.

“Drawing?” Minho asks.

“Eh, it might be more trouble than it’s worth,” Jeongin replies to himself. “Oh hey,” he pushes the book at Minho again, “this one’s Han. Hang it next to Ugly Cactus Lee Know.”

It’s a sketch of a really ugly prairie dog.

“It’s perfect.”

Chapter Text

Changbin glances down at the glass in his hand. It glimmers as it catches the light, clear enough to see straight through. The rag that he’s been using hangs loose in his other hand. This is some form of habit he’s picked up in his short tenure at bartending. He cleans the glasses until they sparkle all the while standing behind the bar, listening intently to his patrons as they crone on about their days and their worries. He enjoys it, really. He likes the ability to do something with his hands just as much as he relishes in hearing the woes of others and helping them. 

This job is so unlike his last one (if you could even call that a job) that it's taken some getting used to, just standing there behind the bar, listening. At times, he feels his shoulder itch in protest as if it’s not the very reason he’s still here. 

Changbin rolls his shoulder at the thought. His gaze moves away from the glass and back up to the bar as he does. It’s late. Near enough to close that there’s not many people even here. Just him and Lee Know are working. They had both begged Felly to turn in early about an hour ago. So now it’s them two and a group of older men finishing up a card game in the back corner. 

Normally, at times like this when the bar is almost empty, just shy of closing, and his friends are drunk enough off the liquor he’s served him to finally let loose . . . this is when he receives his confessions. There’s been a lot recently. At some point in the last week or so almost every one of his friends has confided something (or somethings) to him.  

Almost every one of his friends. Almost. Except Lee Know. 

Which is why Changbin almost drops the new glass he’s been cleaning whenever the very man himself plunks down on the stool in front of him. 

“Oh, care for a drink, boss man?” he prompts. “I know we’re technically still working, but there’s no harm in lettin’ loose a little.”

Lee Know doesn’t say anything. Just stares at him with a piercing gaze. Changbin chooses to take that as a yes. Who knows, maybe he, like so many others, has something to get off his chest? 

~~~

“Ah, something to take the edge off,” Han exhales, setting his glass down on the bar. 

Changbin raises an eyebrow, barely looking up. It’s late afternoon, the bar is emptying out, and Han is making his weekly appearance. They’ve hardly said a word to each other since he got here, and in the spirit of being more hospitable to him, Changbin has deliberately avoided any inflammatory conversation.

“You know,” Han continues, ignoring the fact that Changbin is ignoring him, “I miss it sometimes.”

Pausing, Changbin has to refrain from rolling his eyes. Han is always so dramatic. Changbin doesn’t care about whatever overblown story he’s about to tell, but he can’t just stand here and be prodded at all night.

So he asks flatly, “Miss what?”

With a far-off look in his eye, Han continues, “It was hard, but I had to give it up. Take a break. It’s not an easy life to live, even for a guy like me.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Changbin huffs, annoyed. “If you have a point, get to it.”

“Gunfighting,” Han replies in that same wistful tone.

You gotta be kidding me. Changbin puts down the glass he’s cleaning. “Han, you are not a gunfighter.”

“Not anymore,” Han agrees, sipping his drink. “I’ll go back to it someday, when I’m ready. For now, though, I’ve gotta lay low. My reputation was drawin’ too much attention, y’know? That’s not what gunfighting is about. I don’t do it for the attention.”

Tightening his grip on the dish towel, Changbin takes a deep breath. “Whatever,” he mumbles. Han just likes to talk himself up. Everybody knows that. He’s not being serious, he’s just trying to get a rise out of Changbin. It’s not worth arguing over. Changbin clenches his jaw. “You can’t even shoot!” he snaps. 

“How would you know?” Han scoffs, lifting his chin. “You’ve never seen me shoot.”

“I’ve seen you miss, like, a hundred times,” Changbin scoffs back. “You can’t act like you’re a gunfighter if you can’t shoot.”

“Oh yeah? And how well do you shoot, since you’re some kinda authority on gunfighting?”

Changbin smacks the rag onto the counter. “Drink your juice!” he exclaims. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore!”

“That’s what I thought,” Han says, sipping his drink coolly.

Good Lord. Changbin has to stop himself before he gets carried away. Han doesn’t know a damn thing about gunfighting.

~~~

“Fuck,” Changbin curses as a bullet grazes over his head, nearly taking with it a stray curl. He ducks behind an upturned table, broken glass crunching under his boots. Another shot cuts through the air. People shout in the background, scrambling to get out of the line of fire. This fight has gone on too long already. It’s time to end it.

In a breath, Changbin reloads and takes aim over the table’s edge, firing off a shot that doesn’t hit its mark. He can barely see through all the pistol smoke.

“Quit hiding!” yells the other man. He sounds like he’s getting closer.

Risking one more glance around the table, Changbin sees that he’s right. He readies his gun, but instead of shooting he slams his shoulder into the tabletop as hard as he can, driving it right into the other man’s legs and knocking him to the floor.

As he comes up, Changbin has already fired the final shot.

~~~

“I just—I just care about them all soooo much,” Chris practically sobs, throwing himself against the bar, making Changbin jump.

Another day, another confession. It must be late for Chris to be here. Changbin looks over at the clock for the first time in what feels like hours, not having had a moment between customers to even think about the time. Yeah, late. He looks back over at Chris, hanging limp over the bar. Not that late, though. 

“What are you doing? I haven’t even served you yet?” Brow furrowed in confusion, Changbin throws his rag at Chris’s head.

Chris sniffles, and Changbin worries (briefly) if his roommate is actually crying over how much he cares about his friends. His (brief) worries are quickly assuaged as the man picks up his head to reveal a serious pout but otherwise dry eyes. 

“What?” Changbin huffs.

“Binniiiieeeee!” He sniffles again. This time he brings the rag Changbin threw at him up to his nose and blows. 

Changbin blanches, ripping the cloth away from the offending officer. “What the Hell! Don’t do that!” He tosses the rag into the laundry crate below him. “Seriously! What is wrong with you?”

“I’d like a whiskey, neat, please,” is how Chris answers him, a dimpled smile on display. The pout seems to have vanished into thin air. 

“Uh huh. Not what I asked, but sure.” 

He busies himself with grabbing the whiskey, pouring Chris a glass not a second later. The waves of customers from earlier are gone. The bar is quiet now. Lee Know hides somewhere in the kitchen, and Felly has gone off to man The General Store. A few customers are scattered around the tables. Only Chris sits at the bar.

“You know,” Chris starts, somber now. He’s staring into the glass on the bartop. “I really do worry about you, Binnie. I worry about all of you. Seungmin, Jeongin, Lee Know, Felly. Even Jinnie, and he hasn’t even been here all that long. God, and I worry so much about Han. What if something happens to him out there? That railcar cannot sustain life. I’ve never heard of someone living out in one of those things.”

He pauses for a moment, breathes. Finally, he reaches for his glass and takes a sip, grimacing.

“God, I hate that stuff. Ugh!”

Changbin snorts and shakes his head. This happens every time, but he is not about to stop it now just before it gets good. Instead, he grabs a new rag (a fresh one without any of Chris’s gross germs) and gets to work on another glass, listening.  

~~~

Lee Know is still staring at him after Changbin sets his drink down. It’s just a glass of tequila, neat. This is how Lee Know likes to drink, although Changbin cannot begin to understand why. It’s not even good quality tequila. 

He doesn’t reach for the glass at first. Eyes still locked on Changbin’s. 

“See something you like? I’ll have you know I have plenty of suitors. You’ll have to get in line.” Changbin smirks, hoping to get a rise out of Lee Know to provoke some sort of response so that he isn’t just sitting here in silence.

The only indication that Lee Know is actually listening to him is a slight brow raise and a smirk. It’s gone before Changbin even has the chance to comment on it. 

Slowly, Lee Know reaches out an arm. His eyes remain focused on Changbin as he grabs his glass. He brings it to his lips, gaze unwavering. Changbin watches in disgust as he tosses back the whole three-fingers’ worth of shitty tequila in one gulp. 

“Why?” is all he can say, in utter disbelief. 

Lee Know slams his empty glass onto the bar top and shrugs. His stare is relentless, but Changbin can see how the liquor has caused his eyes to water, tears pooling in the corners betraying him. 

“Why don’t you do your job, and get the customer another cup?” 

~~~

Seungmin has what Changbin would call a moderate alcohol tolerance. That’s largely because he drinks beer instead of liquor and doesn’t actively try to embarrass himself by having too many in the span of an hour. At least, not when it’s just him and Changbin. 

“You spend a lot of time cleaning glasses,” Seungmin observes.

“It’s a part of my job,” Changbin replies flatly. “I know that must be an unfamiliar concept to you, doing your job.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been watching you clean the same one for, like, fifteen minutes.”

Changbin shrugs. “What can I say? I’m very thorough.”

“And I don’t appreciate your snide comment about me doing my job,” Seungmin adds, sipping his beer. “I’ll have you know I actually do put effort into my work, sometimes.”

Changbin coughs out a laugh. “You’re kidding,” he grins. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Tell another one, Seungmin.”

“I’m not joking,” he defends. “If you came to the sheriff’s station and saw how immaculate my paperwork is, you’d stop laughing.”

“Oh, I would,” Changbin nods, “if I wasn’t so busy over here at my job being a committed employee.”

“Ah, yes, because your job description entails flirting with Jinnie all day and holding hands with Felly in between. You’re right, you are really dedicated to your work.”

Changbin shrugs. “Do what you love and never work a day in your life. Or maybe that’s your motto. One which you take very literally.”

Seungmin sighs, shaking his head as he lifts his beer again. “Here I am, trying to have a civil conversation . . .”

“You started it.”

“Did not.” He takes a sip and sets the bottle down. “And you know, I actually do like my job.” He glances up. “Like, seriously. I spend a lot of time messin’ around, but it’s really not bad. I don’t have a lot of responsibility, I get paid decent money, and I get to harass Jeongin for at least an hour or two every day. It’s a pretty good gig.”

Changbin waits to make sure he’s done. Innocuous as it is, he’s pretty sure Seungmin considers that a real confession. “Wow,” he says, “that was some serious heat, deputy. Y’know, I just work here, you don't have to get into the deep shit like that.”

Seungmin just rolls his eyes. “Shut up. I’ll still arrest you if I want to.”

Yeah right. He never gets tired of that line. If only Seungmin could know all the arrest-worthy offenses Changbin really brings to the table. “Well,” he says conclusively, “then you’d stop getting this delightful one-on-one bonding time with me. Then how would you get these profound personal secrets off your chest?”

“I can still talk to you if you’re behind bars,” Seungmin points out. “In fact, maybe even more effectively, since you’d be physically unable to leave.”

The thought of that alone shuts Changbin up.

“Anyway, yeah,” Seungmin continues, back to his earlier train of thought. “Bothering Jeongin is a nice perk. There’s not many other jobs in this town that would give me enough free rein to do that so much.”

That’s actually a subject Changbin finds pretty intriguing. Flinging the rag over his shoulder, he leans on the counter and asks, “What exactly is your deal with him? I can’t understand why you spend so much time bugging him. Like, what’d he ever do to you?”

Seungmin blinks. “No, I’m not—it’s just for fun. I’m not doing it to actually make him mad.” He frowns, like he’s trying to figure out where Changbin’s getting confused. “Like, it’s fun to mess with him because he’s funny and he always plays along.”

Changbin frowns. “So you do like him?”

“Wh—yeah, duh.” He makes a gesture, like, what kind of question is that? “He’s my friend, obviously I do it because I like him.”

Interesting. Changbin nods, clicking his tongue thoughtfully.

“What,” Seungmin asks flatly. “Don’t make that noise and not tell me what you mean.”

Changbin shrugs innocently. “Nothing, I’m just takin’ in the information.”

Seungmin narrows his eyes, suspiciously sipping the last of his beer. “Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t care about it enough to ask further questions, but it’s probably wrong.” He digs through his pocket until he comes out with the right amount of change to pay for his drinks. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to bed on time so I can go to work tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, thank you for your patronage, sir,” Changbin replies, sweeping the coins into his hand. “It’s always appreciated.”

“‘Appreciated’ my ass,” Seungmin calls over his shoulder as he shuffles up the stairs.

~~~

Jinnie has only just walked out the door, waving a cheerful goodbye and promising to see Changbin at home in an hour or two, when Felly plops down on a stool across the bar. The move is punctuated by a sigh, arms folded on the counter. 

Changbin mimics her sigh, smiling as he catches her eye. “What’s the matter?” he asks. “Long day?”

Felly shakes her head, almost like she’s dismissing herself. “No,” she replies, running a hand through her blonde hair. “No, I’m just being silly.” She has that tired, uneasy body language that tells Changbin she’s got something on her mind. 

“Silly?” He raises an eyebrow. “I’ve never known Felly to be silly, that’s my job.” He prods her with his pinky finger until she looks at him. “What’s the matter?” he repeats.

Felly fights a smile, her eyes wandering again. “Just . . . Jinnie,” she says simply, resting her chin in her hand. “Seemed like he was really enjoying himself tonight. It’s so hard not to like him.”

Changbin chuckles. “Ah. You have a consistent problem with that,” he observes.

“I do,” she agrees. “He’s just so easy to talk to. And he can be so funny when he relaxes a little bit. And so interesting, when he talks about art or books or stuff he really likes . . .” She shakes her head again, covering her face with her hands. “And he’s so pretty.”

“I’ll say,” Changbin agrees, smiling at her cuteness. “He doesn’t make it easy on us, that’s for sure.”

“It’s so silly,” Felly says, almost to herself. “I need to get a grip.”

Changbin is tempted to offer his own opinion. Of course it’s hard not to like Jinnie, which is why he’s not trying not to like him. It’s much more painless just to ease the tension by casually flirting and keeping things light. But he knows Felly isn’t like him. Feelings seem to be more serious to her, whether they be her own or anyone else’s. 

So as she continues talking about Jinnie’s good qualities and how frustrating they are, Changbin just mixes her a drink (something with a lot of syrup and fruit juice) and settles in to listen.

~~~

Changbin is starting to itch in this silence. After he refilled Lee Know’s glass, per his demand, the man clammed back up again. His stare, however, does not waver. It’s uncanny. Changbin doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

“So?” he prods, moving as he does as if to buck off the piercing stare. It’s not unlike how an animal might squirm when caught in a trap. He tries not to think about that too hard. 

Lee Know coughs, but that's his only response. When Changbin looks over at him, he’s raising his glass to his lips and actually sipping. Changbin thinks he might see a smile hidden behind his cup, that maybe what he said got to him at least a little bit. 

He tries again. “How was your day?” 

There’s a long enough pause that he figures he’s not getting a response. Instead of trying again, he doubles down. “Mine was good, since you’re asking. It wasn’t too busy today, but you’d know that, wouldn’t you?”

Lee Know blinks at him. 

“Well, since it was so slow, I had plenty of time to chat up Jinnie. He’s starting to fall for me, mark my words! But I mean, how could you not?” 

Lee Know, still staring, raises a brow. Changbin sees a smile, fighting at the corners of his mouth, and smiles to himself in anticipation of it.

“You’re really not gonna comment on that?” he jokes. Then he makes a face, widening his eyes. “Oh! Lee Know, certainly you aren’t jealous, are you? Have you fallen for me too?!” He gasps coyly, feigning surprise.

Finally, finally, Lee Know breaks his stare looking away to reign in his laughter and hide the wide grin that stretches across his face. Changbin, ever the vigilant bartender, sees it anyway. He’s won, at least this battle. 

But just as quick, he loses the war. Lee Know sobers up (pun intended) seconds later, fixing his glare back on Changbin. 

“I sure hope you aren’t propositioning all our customers like that,” he cuts. “It’s bad enough whatever you have going on with Felly and Jinnie. It’s unprofessional.” 

“Sure, boss.” Changbin rolls his eyes. Like Lee Know actually cares about professionalism. The crates full of smuggled goods in the storeroom suggest otherwise. 

It seems as though the veil of silence has been lifted. Lee Know opens his mouth to speak again, probably another tirade about Changbin’s rampant unprofessionalism. He settles in behind the bar, bracing himself for the most bullshit lecture he’ll probably ever receive.  

~~~

“I’m dizzy,” Jinnie sighs, flopping forward against the bar. “I think I drank too fast.”

“That tends to happen. You shouldn’t drink so much on an empty stomach,” Changbin nags. 

“I just . . . lost track of time,” he whines back, knitting his eyebrows in that pouty expression he always makes.

Felly’s back in the kitchen cleaning up, leaving Changbin to chat with Jinnie while he finishes his last drink. It seems like they don’t usually talk just the two of them, even though they live together. When they’re at home, Jinnie likes his alone time, and at The Saloon there’s always other people keeping them busy. Not that that’s a bad thing, but Changbin finds himself happy that they can spend time together like this.

“I can get you something to eat, if you want,” Changbin offers, “or you can just keep flinging yourself around like a rag doll and getting dizzier.”

“I’ll take the second option, please,” Jinnie mumbles, laying his face down on the counter. “Ugh, I’m tired. I should go home, but I don’t wanna.”

“That’s very sad,” Changbin remarks. “If you wait ‘till I get done here, I’ll drag you home. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“‘Kay, that sounds good.” Jinnie closes his eyes, humming. Even with his hair ruffled and his face flushed from the alcohol, he still looks so perfect. Changbin has to resist the urge to reach out and poke the mole under his eye.

“Has anyone ever told you that post-alcohol dishevelment looks really good on you?” he asks.

“Mm, I don’t think so,” Jinnie replies indifferently, not looking up. “Hey, d’you think I should stay in Jay Park?”

Changbin almost drops his glass. “Huh?” He feels himself frown, glancing up at Jinnie’s unbothered face. “What do you mean? I thought you already decided to stay?”

Jinnie opens his eyes now, but only to frown back up at Changbin. “I still kinda feel like I should go back home,” he says. “Like . . . I shouldn’t really be here.”

“What are you talking about?” Changbin asks again. Why is Jinnie acting so casual about this? Staying or leaving is kind of an important decision. And it’s not like he’s ever brought it up to Changbin before now.

“It’s just, like, my family’s whole thing,” Jinnie explains vaguely, waving a careless hand. “Like, they need me to be there. Or, they don’t need me, but I’m supposed to be there to take over and . . . whatever. But I don’t wanna do that.”

Whatever information this implies about Jinnie’s family, Changbin’s not worried about it. “Then don’t,” he replies firmly. “You should stay here if that’s what you want.” At least, that’s what Changbin wants.

“It’s not just that,” Jinnie continues, “I also really miss my mom. I haven’t seen her in, like, a year. Isn’t that crazy?” Looking up now, he finally picks his head up off the counter. “I can’t believe it’s been that long. If I went back home just to see her, they’d probably make me stay there . . .” He trails off.

His mom. Jinnie’s mentioned his mom a couple of times. Changbin’s always found it nice how he seems so close to her, but he’s never thought much about it. No, he doesn’t like to think about it. Maybe it’s because the thought of Jinnie leaving alarms him, or because it’s late and he’s tired, but Changbin can’t stop himself from remembering his own mother.

~~~

Summers in New Mexico are unbearably hot. The sun glares down at Changbin as he stands, unmoving, still staring at the headstone. Beads of sweat drip down his back. Tears have long since dried on his face. The other mourners have already cleared out, leaving him alone out here. Even his sister is resigned, abandoning herself to the slow process of grief.

Changbin doesn’t understand. How could he move on from this? Why should he even want to? He will not allow himself to let go or forget. It doesn’t matter if no one else thinks he’s right; he’s already decided. As if there was any other choice to make.

He’s going to find the man that killed his mother if it’s the last thing he does.

~~~

For a guy who comes to The Saloon for moonshine every evening, Jeongin rarely overdoes it. He seems to have slightly more decorum than the rest of Changbin’s friends.

“This stuff sucks so bad,” Jeongin is sighing down at his glass. “I don’t know why I always order it.”

“I don’t either, to be honest,” Changbin admits. “I tend not to ask judgmental questions, but I’ve always wondered.”

Jeongin shrugs, tracing his finger around the rim of the glass. “I guess it just reminds me of home. I lived in a dry county, so moonshine was the only alcohol anybody ever had. Not that I even drank it much back then. Didn’t have much reason to.” He’s got that weary tone that tells Changbin there’s something on his mind. 

He glances around the bar. It’s nearly empty, save for Jinnie and Felly giggling at a table over in the corner and one or two half-asleep regulars across the room. With so few people to overhear, he shoots. 

“So you miss home, then?” He busies his hands with organizing things behind the bar so it doesn’t seem like he’s listening too hard.

“Yeah,” Jeongin replies lightly, “I miss my family and all, but I also just miss not having so many . . . I don’t know, responsibilities?” He searches for the words. “Or, maybe I just miss not being stressed.”

“Mm,” Changbin nods. “Makes sense.”

Taking another sip, Jeongin continues, “It kinda feels like it’s getting worse.”

Changbin pauses. For some reason, it makes him sad to think that Jeongin isn’t happy in Jay Park. More so than his other friends, he wants Jeongin to feel at home here. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

“The kids have kind of . . . plateaued. They don’t seem like they’re really learning anything past a certain point, no matter what level they’re at. I’m just not sure what to do about it.” Jeongin glances away, getting lost in thought. “I should know what to do.”

“That seems a little unfair,” Changbin points out. “Not to them, to yourself. You can’t have an answer for everything, and you’re doing this pretty much on your own. It’s gotta be difficult, no matter who you are.”

Jeongin blinks. “Maybe,” he admits. But he adds, “I still feel like it’s not working out. Ugh, and the other day when Seungmin was there to see it . . .” He trails off, running an agitated hand through his hair. “Gosh, that was embarrassing. I keep thinking about it.”

Interesting. Changbin wonders how much he should say. “Well, I’m sure he doesn’t hold it against you.”

“It’s not that,” Jeongin says, waving a hand, “I just hate screwing stuff up in front of him. Like, I’m not tryin’ to give him more things to make fun of me about. I think I might actually like him if he wasn’t such an ass all the time.” 

Very interesting. Changbin hesitates, making a mental note to mention something to Seungmin about being nicer to Jeongin if he wants them to be friends.

“Not that I’m the most social person ever,” Jeongin continues, “but I think we’d get along pretty well. He can be really funny when he’s not trying to make my life more difficult.” 

“Maybe he’s not actually trying to make it difficult,” Changbin interjects before he can stop himself. But he’s gotta rein it in. He shrugs. “Maybe he’s just not thinking, y’know?”

Jeongin sighs, raising his glass again. “I’ll say. I wonder if he even realizes . . .” 

“Hm?” 

He shakes his head again, waving off Changbin’s question. “Nothing. Anyway, this makes me think maybe I should put a request into the diocese to send me an assistant or send me to additional training or something. I doubt they’d grant it, but still.” 

“Never hurts to ask for help,” Changbin nods.

“Yeah,” Jeongin agrees absently.

He deserves better than this. Changbin sure hopes something changes soon.

~~~

By the time Han is on his third drink, the conversation has taken a turn. Just an hour ago he was bragging on his nonexistent gunfighting skills, and now he’s wilting over the bar rubbing his eye and moping in between stifled yawns.

“It’s ‘cause Fel—ugh, sorry. It’s ‘cause Felly came to see me the other day,” he’s saying, trying to keep his words straight, “I just . . . I feel like I should spend more time around people, y’know?”

“I mean,” Changbin shrugs, leaning against the counter, “that’s what we’ve been sayin’, man. We think it would do you some good.”

“I know,” Han nods intently, frowning. “I know. But listen. The boxcar . . . it’s actually not that great.” He looks up at Changbin with a watery eye.

Oh, here we go. “Look, Han, I just work here . . .” He hesitates at the sight of Han’s sad little face. “. . . but keep talkin’.”

Sighing, Han rests his face on the surface of the bar. “I know I make it sound really, like, really awesome,” he continues, “but it’s lonely out there sometimes. Y’know, Felly is the first person who ever came and visited me?”

“Yeah, I don’t exactly see people lining up to hang out at the abandoned train car,” Changbin admits. “But it’s alright, Han, you can spend more time here. As long as you quit causing trouble,” he adds. And he means it. It’s true that Han’s a pain in the ass, but still, everyone needs company sometimes. And Felly seems intent on integrating Han into society, so Changbin’s gotta support that.

“I’m gonna,” Han mumbles decisively, face still squished onto the bar. “Gonna come by more, not . . . not cause trouble.”

“That’s good.” Changbin gathers up the emptied glasses. 

“‘Cause Felly told me to, and Felly’s nice to me.” Han’s eye flutters closed.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Changbin says again. “Hey, don’t fall asleep right there, I don’t feel like moving you.”

“Felly’s really a nice guy . . .” his words trail off.

God, he’s a lightweight. Changbin shakes his head. “Lee Know!” he yells back into the kitchen. “Come help me peel Han off the counter! I don’t get paid enough to do it myself.”

~~~

Chris is really sobbing now. A full crocodile tear experience that had it been anyone else Changbin would be concerned about, and had it been any other instance, he might share that concern with Christopher. 

As it stands, Chris has been blubbering from one topic to the next for at least an hour now. He only started the waterworks moments ago when the subject changed from the boys and Jay Park to the unfortunate end to all of his shirts.

“I don’t do it on purpose!” he wails. “It just happens! Sometimes I don’t even realize it until it's too late.” 

Chris looks down, pulling his shirt away from himself as he does. It doesn’t go very far. A jagged line crops the fabric at roughly waist height. When he lets the fabric go, Changbin is able to see his entire exposed midriff. Chris, also seeing this, lets out another sob. 

“Ah, I look like some ruffian! I’m supposed to be the sheriff,” he cries. Turning his teary gaze away from the ruined article, he looks at Changbin. “What do I do?! All my clothes are gonna be ruined!”

Changbin sighs. He wishes he had a free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose to hopefully ward away his oncoming headache. Unfortunately, his hands are too busy with his rag and his glass to spare. The sentiment remains. 

“Look at it this way, Chris. It’ll feel great in the summer months.” 

~~~

Changbin cuts Felly off after two drinks in one hour. He’s never seen her drunk drunk, but if this is any indication, it wouldn’t be pretty. Instead of making her relax, the alcohol seems to have made her even more tense than normal. Her commiseration about Jinnie became a spiral of anxious ramblings that Changbin had really not anticipated.

“It sounds crazy,” she’s saying, “and I’m not supposed to tell you this . . . but it’s like I’m running away from myself. Like, no matter where I end up, I’ll never get away from my problems, ‘cause I’m the problem . Does that make any sense?” She takes another sip from her glass.

Changbin doesn’t know what the Hell she’s talking about or why she’s so stressed out. Maybe she just can’t hold her liquor? Either way, he needs to calm her down. “Felly,” he lays a hand on her arm and slides her glass away. “Seriously. Drink some water, it’s okay.”

But Felly shakes her head, brows knitting. “No, Binnie, I am serious. It’s my own fault! I made such a fucking mess out of everything, I just. . .”

“Whoa there, okay Felly,” Changbin says, eyes widening as he takes her hand. It’s startling to hear her cuss like that. “I think that’s enough. Let’s have some water and maybe something to eat, okay? That’ll help you feel better.”

“Oh, goodness,” she sighs, still not listening to him. She puts a hand to her flushed face as she groans, “I deserve this. I did it to myself. It’s what I get for killing a man.”

What the Hell? Changbin almost laughs out loud before he catches himself. “Whoa, Felly,” he repeats, suppressing the chuckle in his voice, “I think we should drink some water and then get you up to bed, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine.” 

He goes around the bar and pulls her to her feet, guiding her to the staircase. With an arm slung over his shoulder, Felly leans on Changbin as he helps her up each step. She continues rambling nonsense, though she’s less distraught than she was a moment ago. It’s undeniably amusing.

Hearing the commotion, Jeongin pokes his head out of his room for a moment, but Changbin waves off his offer for help.

“How sweet,” Felly notes, eyebrows drawn like she’s about to cry. “He’s so helpful.”

“Yes, he’s very sweet,” Changbin affirms, trying to hold her steady while he opens her bedroom door. 

“This town is full of sweet people,” she continues, her voice cracking peculiarly. She clears her throat. Changbin really hopes she doesn’t break down crying.

“It sure is.” Feeling his way through the dark room, he sets Felly down at the edge of her bed, but she still clings to him like a magnet. Raising his eyebrows, he puts on his best sheriff impression to ask, “Can I trust you to handle yourself from here, ma’am?”

“I’m handled,” she replies, removing one hand from Changbin’s arm to rub at her face. “Binnie, don’t tell anybody about the man I killed. It’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Of course, my dear.” He pats her other hand solemnly, though he smiles at the absurdity of the idea. “I won’t tell a soul, I promise.” 

Felly’s expression is invisible in the dark, but her sigh of relief sounds strangely real. “Thanks, Binnie,” she murmurs, reaching a hand to his face. “You’re the sweetest. It’s hard not to like you, too.”

Changbin feels an odd touch on his cheek, and it takes him a moment to realize that Felly has pressed a little kiss there before flopping back onto her bed. His smile widens, his skin tingling as he touches the spot with his fingertips, almost like he can still feel it. 

“Goodnight, Felly,” he tells her softly, seeing himself back out of her room.

Making his way back down to the bar, Changbin can't get rid of the smile or the tingly feeling. Not that he wants to. He shakes his head at the ridiculousness of a girl like that claiming she’s killed someone. He knows firsthand what it takes to kill someone, and there's no way Felly has it.

~~~

Changbin stands over the man, now lifeless on the floor, and catches his breath. As the smoke starts to clear, he sees what a wreck they’d made of the bar. Tables flipped, dishes broken . . . he wasn’t expecting the guy to put up such a fight.

Oh well. No sense wasting time surveying the damage. Changbin needs to get what he came for and get the Hell out of here.

Shoving his pistol into his waistband, he bends and pulls the man’s collar away from his neck and examines the skin. But he doesn’t find the distinctive tattoo he’s looking for.

Changbin huffs a sigh. Why does he bother getting his hopes up? For two years now, every time he tracks down another bandit or highwayman . . . He shoves that thought from his mind. He just needs to keep searching. Someday he’ll find the man he’s been chasing.

Taking hold of the man’s body, Changbin hauls him up and over his shoulder. With any luck, he can at least turn the body in for a bounty. 

~~~

In spite of the troubling effect their conversation has had on Changbin, Jinnie keeps up his tipsy chattering as if he hasn’t said anything out of the ordinary. 

“Another thing is how bored I am,” he’s saying. “Not like, right now, I’m not bored right now, just like . . . like Jay Park is so . . .” His eyes roam around the room as he loses his train of thought.

“Boring?” Changbin offers flatly.

“Yeah!” Jinnie nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, it’s just boring. Like, you work here. Felly works here. Chris is the sheriff. Seungmin does . . . what does he do again?”

“He’s the deputy.”

“Yeah! Right, he’s the deputy. And Jeongin is a priest.”

“Not actually a priest.”

“But there’s nothin’ for me to do all day, I just . . .” he puffs out his cheeks. “I just sit around here all the time.”

This touches on another weird subject that Changbin has never heard Jinnie broach: where the Hell does he get all his money? Obviously he doesn’t pay Chris for rent, so it’s not like his cost of living is especially high, but he’s apparently been traveling for nearly a year and presumably paid his own way. That’s . . . a lot of money, for a guy without a job.

Of course, it’s getting harder and harder for Changbin to retain his policy of not asking invasive questions, with Jinnie just casually throwing around these suspicious and vague bits of information. It’s frustrating enough that Changbin is remembering why he imposed that policy on himself in the first place.

“Do you think Lee Know is hiring?” Jinnie asks.

Changbin cracks a smile, easing up. “You don’t wanna work here,” he says. “And I think Lee Know is sick enough of me and Felly as it is. I’m sure you can find something else to do in town, if you ask around.” He remembers his conversation with Jeongin the other day. “There’s lots of people who might be lookin’ for help. And it’d be a good reason for you to stay here,” he adds.

“Mm. Maybe so.” Jinnie’s eyes wander away from Changbin’s again, bringing him to some other distant island of thought. Changbin’s smile widens as he watches him. How can someone be so graceful and so ridiculous at the same time? 

He sighs. He’s such a hypocrite. It’s only by chance that he wound up in Jay Park himself, and he knows he’ll eventually get back to his previous occupation, so he has no business pressuring Jinnie into settling down here. 

But if he didn’t try, he’d regret it. Even if neither one of them end up staying in Jay Park, the least Changbin can hope for is a bit more time. 

“Well,” he decides, “I guess I shouldn’t try to convince you of anything, but for the record, I hope you stick around.”

~~~

“Switch spots with me,” Lee Know demands, clambering off his stool. He sways a bit, wobbling with the alcohol that is clearly coursing through his system, but Lee Know makes sure neither him nor the stool he’s just vacated falls. 

“Huh?” Changbin really hasn’t been listening to whatever Lee Know has been yapping about. It had something to do with his “unprofessionalism.” At least it had at first. Now, he’s not sure where the conversation has gone, having lost himself in his own thoughts behind the bar. 

“I’ll show you how a real bartender does it. Watch.” Lee Know says by way of a clarification. 

Changbin is still confused, but now Lee Know has rounded the bar and is standing in front of him. 

“Move.” Lee Know pushes him. “Get over there.”

And Changbin goes, fearing that Lee Know might just push him over the counter if he hesitates for long enough. 

Once he settles in on Lee Know’s stool, he finds a glass of whiskey waiting for him. The man who put in there, who is now standing in his place, is once again staring at him. It’s different now, as if taken on a new purpose. 

“So.”

“You really think I’m going to confess something just like that?” Changbin sips his drink. 

Lee Know glares. “So,” he starts again. “What do you normally think about whenever people confess to you?” 

Changbin isn’t really expecting that question. It makes him pause. He had something sharp poised on the tip of his tongue, but now it dissipates. He thinks of all the confessions he’s received recently. How some of them have reminded him so much of his time before Jay Park, of his not-so-distant past. 

“To answer honestly—don’t look at me like that. To answer honestly, I’ve been thinking about myself lately.”

“Big shock,” Lee Know mumbles, smirking as he does. It’s said clearly to get a rise out of Changbin, but he falls for it anyway.

“It’s just my past, y’know. With Han coming in more and Felly and Jinnie getting closer to me . . . I feel like my past is haunting me. That I’ll find myself right back to pulling the trigger.” He sighs, rolling his shoulder. “But I’m stuck here. At least for now. Pinned down by this wound on my arm. I should be out there getting justice for my mother. I should be a better son, a stronger man. I don’t want that life anymore, though. I like it here.”

He looks up at Lee Know, who’s looking uncharacteristically moved by what he’s saying. It almost makes him flinch. He certainly didn’t plan on opening up this much. He’s glad it’s with Lee Know, though. Changbin trusts him. 

“Thank you. For listening,” he tells him, meaning it.

Lee Know reaches out, patting him on his hurt shoulder carefully not to do too much damage. He grins, “And that is how it’s done!”

Chapter Text

Minho is looking forward to tomorrow’s trip into town. As always, it’s a brief and welcome respite from the utter deadness of Jay Park. It’s really a drag when he’s the most nefarious crime in town. Makes life a lot less exciting.

Sitting at a table in The Saloon, he plans out which places he’ll visit and how long he’ll spend at each one. This time, he’ll make sure he can get his errands and his gambling done in plenty of time. 

Jeongin sits across from him, writing out lesson plans for next week. It seems like he’s been spending more time downstairs lately, especially when it’s getting late and most people have cleared out. It’s a little after dinnertime and The Saloon is pretty quiet.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” he asks.

“Six o’clock, like normal.” Minho glances at Binnie, who’s behind the bar chatting with Jinnie and Felly. “Hey, bartender! Can you get here early tomorrow and help me load some stuff? I got packages to bring into town.”

“Why me?” Binnie asks. “Shouldn’t you make one of your other underlings do it?”

“And let those big muscles go to waste?” Minho grins. “Absolutely not.”

Binnie just grumbles, going back to his work as Jinnie giggles at him.

“You know, you can ask me,” Jeongin says, frowning. “I can do it. I’ve only ever dropped, like, two crates. And I’m gonna be with you anyway, so.”

Minho just pats his wrist like a mother would to her misguided child. “That’s alright, Jeongin, I’ll just press Binnie into service. You just get yourself ready for six, that’s all I need you to do.”

The front door creaks as it opens and Seungmin strolls in, flinging his hat onto the rack.

“Ugh,” he groans, plunking into the seat next to Jeongin’s. He squeezes his eyes shut as he stretches over the back of his chair. “Good evenin’, boys. I’ve been imprisoned in the paperwork dungeon, what’s life been like on the outside?”

“The same,” Jeongin sighs, going back to his lesson plan. “Except less annoying since you’ve been gone.”

“Oh, Jeongin,” Seungmin says, slinging a long arm around the man’s shoulders. “I’ve missed you most of all. It’s so good to be free again.”

“Ladies,” Minho says flatly, “please. Some of us are trying to keep our dinner down.”

“You’re telling me?” Jeongin mumbles, trying to disentangle himself from Seungmin’s clinginess.

The door creaks open again and Chris shuffles in. Hanging his hat next to Seungmin’s, he drags himself up to the bar. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” he sighs, looking like all his energy has drained out. “Are y’all still servin’ dinner? Please say yes. I haven’t eaten all day. Aw, Binnie, you angel! You shouldn’t have!” Chris brightens as he realizes his friends have saved him a plate.

This is nice, Minho thinks, content. It’s not often that all his friends are here at once, enjoying an evening together. Something does feel like it’s missing, though, and he can’t figure out what.

And he doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because the front door swings open for a third time, and in walks the very last person Minho expected to see in Jay Park. 

Oh shit. He curses himself for wishing there was more nefarious crime in this town.

“Welcome in,” Binnie calls from behind the counter.

“Howdy,” the newcomer replies, glancing around until his eyes settle on Minho. His face spreads into a smile. “Ah, there he is! Just the man I wanted to see.”

Ohhhh, shit. 

Minho forces himself to smile as the man approaches. “Good to see you, Jungkook. How’ve you been?”

~~~

Han may not be an expert on human behavior, but something about the stranger that just blew into town is suspicious. He came in alone after dark on a small wagon hitched to one horse. Not exactly the securest way to travel. He must have really needed to get somewhere, or get away from somewhere. What must he be carrying?

Of course, Han doesn’t know anything else about the guy, so there’s no reason to jump to conclusions about his purpose in Jay Park. But Han is also bored and he loves stealing.

So after the wagon passed his boxcar, he waited and followed it into town.

There’s one carriage house in Jay Park, and it’s attached to the barn. Two of the local families run them. One of them has a son who’s supposed to keep an eye on the place after dark, but Han has found in his months of thievery that the kid is easy to get rid of. All he has to do is sneak in, rattle a few chains, make some ghostly noises, and the boy packs up.

It’s a good thing I have so much experience with this, Han thinks, making his way through the wagons and carriages in the dark. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on this town. 

Approaching the stranger’s wagon, he hesitates. If there is a chance this random stranger’s not doing anything illicit, he might feel bad for going through all the guy’s stuff. But not too bad, he decides, and unties the cover. 

The wagon is packed full of closed and sealed crates, the smallest at the back and largest at the front. So he’s a trader at best and a smuggler at worst. Han hops into the wagon’s bed to poke around more thoroughly as he realizes this looks really similar to how Lee Know organizes his cargo, just slightly messier. Funny coincidence. 

It’s too dark in here to see much, and Han’s not sure if he wants to break open the tops of any of these crates and risk being unable to shut them. Regardless of if the guy’s a criminal, Han doesn’t want to leave behind any trace of his interference.

Which is why it’s an incredible stroke of luck that towards the front of the wagon he finds an actual ledger booklet. He swipes it and heads towards the front of the carriage house where he can see better.

Squinting in the dim gaslight filtering through the windows, Han skims the first page. And then the second. 

Is this guy stupid? Han thinks, frowning. None of this stuff makes any sense.

The types of goods listed can’t be worth as much money as the guy’s claiming to bring in, not by a long shot. When he turns the third page, something slips out from between the pages. A letter.

As he reads it, Han’s eye narrows. He realizes why the ledger’s information doesn’t add up. And he realizes what the guy’s doing in Jay Park.

Carefully and as quickly as possible, Han tucks the ledger back into the wagon and ties the cover back down exactly the way he found it. 

Slipping out of the carriage house, he makes for The Saloon. He needs to talk to Lee Know.

~~~ 

Minho is no longer looking forward to tomorrow’s trip into town. He waits around downstairs until The Saloon closes and everyone has headed up to bed. After getting in so late, Jungkook had to stay somewhere, and Minho couldn’t very well deny him, so he let him take a room upstairs. On the house, of course, since they’re old friends. Ugh. 

Opening the door to the storeroom, Minho groans and runs a hand through his hair. He barely has time to light his oil lamp and shut the door before a voice from within startles him.

“How’s it goin’?” 

Minho jumps, nearly dropping his lamp. “Shit, Han! Why can’t you use the front door?”

Han shrugs, stepping into the glow of the lantern. “Sorry, that’s beneath me. Listen, I came to talk to you about that guy that came in tonight.” 

A sigh escapes Minho’s lungs. “Can’t we talk about something else?” 

“No, listen,” Han repeats, laying a hand on Minho’s wrist. “I have questions. I went through his stuff—” 

“You what?” Minho blanches, pulling his arm away. “Why would you do that?” 

Again, Han shrugs, blinking his eye in surprise. “I felt compelled. Who cares? The point is, I know what he’s carrying and what he’s askin’ you to do.” He pauses. “Who is he? How do you know him?”

Taking a deep breath, Minho sits down on a box. He can feel a headache coming on.

“We used to work together,” he replies, running another restless hand through his hair. “I used to run stuff for his gang. I broke away from them a couple of years ago and never told them where I went.” He levels his gaze at Han, who looks more curious than anything else. “Their whole system’s gotten a lot bigger since then. From what I’ve been hearin’ about them . . .” he shakes his head. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“So why’d they track you down now?”

“Don’t know. And I’m not gonna ask. These are guys you don’t wanna be involved with, Han. You shouldn’t have stuck your nose into this.” 

Man, Minho really jinxed himself. He’s been getting bored in Jay Park, yes, but that doesn’t mean he wants to go back to his old operation. Not after everything he did to get out of it.

Han sits down on the floor across from Minho’s box. “Well,”  he begins, “I read his account book. I found a letter in it about you. He asked you to move some stuff when you go to town tomorrow?”

Minho nods.

Han nods back. “Yeah, it’s stolen valuables. Real valuables. Silver and gold, jewelry, silk. Big-time stuff.”

Ugh. Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “Those assholes,” he mutters. “I run tobacco, liquor, and consumer goods. I never run opium, and I never run luxuries. It’s too messy. I’m a bootlegger, and that’s it. They know that.” 

“Are you gonna do it anyway?” Han asks.

“Obviously, yeah. What choice do I have? I can’t tell them no. I just wanna get ‘em off my back.”

“So after this, they’re never gonna ask you to do anything again.” Han’s face is skeptical. “Wouldn’t you rather end it now?” 

“Didn’t you hear me? What other choice do I have?” Minho repeats. 

“You have me.” Han grins, looking awfully maniacal in the lamplight. “And I owe you for the last few months.”

Minho stills. In the discomfort of Jungkook showing up at his Saloon, he forgot a key fact about himself. He is, and prides himself on being, an agent of chaos. He can’t just be made to do things without putting up a fight. It makes sense that Han, of all people, has reminded him of that.

“Alright,” he replies, “do you have a plan?”

“Less of a plan and more of a concept,” Han corrects him. “Also, it involves getting some help.”

~~~

“Places, everyone!” Jinnie hisses down from the loft of the carriage house. “Are we in places?” 

“Yep!” Chris whisper-yells back, drawing his gun.

He tries, but he can’t suppress the little laugh that escapes him. Obviously it’s weird that he’s participating in a staged crime, being the sheriff and all, but it’s so exciting. 

“Almost,” Binnie grumbles. “Han, would you just get over here?”

“I’m right here! I’ve been in position this entire time,” Han says from his place beside Jungkook’s wagon. It’s just before dawn, still dark outside. Chris can hardly see the two of them in the light of his oil-lamp, But he knows that Han’s one eye is narrowed in a scowl. “If anything you should be fussing at Chris for his giggling over there. Get it together, Chris.”

“Hey,” Chris whines, “I do have it together!”

Binnie shrugs. “He’s right, Chris, if you can’t act serious, we’re gonna have to make you and Seungmin trade parts.”

“Now wait a minute,” Chris objects, frowning. “You can’t replace me with Seungmin, this is a sheriff’s role. He wouldn’t be able to pull it off like me.”

“It’s too late for that anyway,” Jinnie calls in a hushed voice, “I just gave Felly the signal, so y’all better get ready.”

Chris thinks it’s nice that all their friends are pitching in on this, minus Jeongin. Everyone thought it was too cruel to wake him up in the middle of the night on a weekend, especially since he and Lee Know are going to town so early. At least, they will be if this whole tableau goes according to plan.

“It should be a few minutes while they wake everyone up,” Han predicts. “Hey, is that thing loaded?”

“Of course,” Chris replies, looking down at his pistol, “but I’m not gonna shoot you.”

“How do I know that for sure? Maybe you think this is a chance to get rid of me once and for all.”

Binnie sighs long-sufferingly. “Han, would you shut up? I’m gonna be standing right behind you, and I'm not worried about Chris shooting me.” 

Chris puts his hands on his hips. “Exactly. Han, we are not having this conversation again. For weeks, I’ve been inviting you, civilly, to stay here in town. I also let you shoot at me for fun that one time. Quit acting like I’m the one holding a grudge here.”

“Whatever,” Han huffs, glancing away. “But if you did—” 

“Y’all hush!” Jinnie calls down, “Felly just signaled back, they’re on their way.”

Oh, that was fast, Chris thinks. Seungmin sure is efficient. What a good deputy he makes.

The carriage house goes silent as they all get into their positions. Jinnie disappears from sight and hides up in the loft, Binnie traps Han’s arms behind his back and holds him there, and Chris has his gun drawn, aimed at Han’s chest. 

They stand between Lee Know’s and Jungkook’s wagons, both of which have their covers hastily torn off. Several of Lee Know’s crates are broken open to make them look rifled-through. Jungkook’s, however, remain intact, save for one whose lid has been pried up and left unopened.

It’s just a moment later that the door bursts open and Seungmin enters, brandishing a lantern, with Lee Know and Jungkook marching in tow behind him.

“There he is,” he says, authoritatively, shining his light on Han. “Ask him whatever you’d like while we’ve got him here.”

“Who is he?” Jungkook asks, eyeing Han and how close they are to his wagon. “Do you know him?”

“Of course it’s you,” Lee Know spits, approaching Han. “Always trying to steal from me. Well now you’ll get what you deserve, won’t you?”

Chris resists the urge to gawk. Damn, he’s really into it. “Careful, Lee Know,” he cautions, putting one hand out to usher his friend back. He keeps his gun trained on Han. “I know you’re upset, but don’t taunt him. We don’t know what he’ll do.”

“As if,” Han spits, glaring at Chris. “I don’t know why you’re pointing the gun at me,” he juts his chin towards Jungkook, “when that’s the guy you should be after.”

Jungkook frowns. “What’s he mean by that?” he asks.

“Check his cargo,” Han explains. “It’s not what he claims it is.”

“Which is . . . ?” Chris raises an eyebrow at Jungkook, who’s doing a very convincing job of looking confused.

“Textiles,” Jungkook replies. “I trade in fabric and thread only. I don’t know what he’s talking about.” He sounds completely sincere. If Chris didn’t know for certain that Jungkook was guilty, he’d probably believe him. 

“Yeah right,” Han taunts. “This guy’s wagon is full of stuff he’s got no business trading. And I bet what I saw was only the tip of the iceberg.” 

As he wriggles, Binnie tightens his grip around Han’s arms. “You’d better settle down,” he threatens. “Don’t even think about trying anything.” 

“And don’t make accusations,” Seungmin warns, falling in next to Chris. “You’re not in any position to be doing that, kid.”

“Then why don’t you check?” Han demands. “Go ahead and see what he’s got back there.”

Chris has to try really hard not to smile at how good his friends are at acting. He opens his mouth to argue with Han, but Jungkook holds up a hand.

“Fine,” he says calmly. “I’ll show you.” 

It happens just like Lee Know assured them it would. He walks to the back of his wagon, selects a box, and pries it open with his pocket knife as Seungmin holds his lantern over it. Within it are layers of folded fabric, exactly as he claimed there would be.

“Alright,” Chris says decisively. He turns back to Han, who’s pulling off a really realistic shocked expression. “I think we’ve heard enough from you.”

“No, listen!” Han yells as Binnie tightens his hold. “It’s a decoy! Ask him to check more!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lee Know snaps. He looks at Chris. “He’ll say anything to get himself off the hook.”

Chris exchanges a look with Binnie and says, “We’re gonna bring him in. Mr. Jeon, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all of this. Our town absolutely doesn’t stand for this kind of behavior. Will you let us assess whether you’ve lost anything so that we can recover it or pay you for it?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, thank you. Let’s put it behind us. I’d like to get everything packed back up and go.” He glances at Lee Know. “I’m afraid our deal will have to be called off.”

“I understand,” Lee Know says somberly. He turns his back on the rest of them, moving to inspect the “damage” to his own cargo.

“If you’re sure,” Chris replies, nodding to Jungkook. “Let’s get this squared away, then,” he says to Binnie, gesturing with his pistol. 

Together, he, Binnie, and Seungmin prod Han out of the carriage house and towards the sheriff’s station while he struggles and snaps at them the whole way there. They keep up the act until they’ve shut the door behind them.

“Oh my God!” Chris squeals, “that was so cool!” 

~~~

Not that Hyunjin doesn’t love his friends, but he kind of regrets his participation in the little pre-dawn charade this morning. It was pretty fun to watch everything go down, but he fell asleep in the loft waiting for Jungkook to clear out and woke up two hours later with a crick in his neck. The whole thing leaves him fatigued for the rest of the day. He can only imagine how Lee Know must feel, having to drive all the way into town and back on so little sleep.

At least we spared Jeongin, he thinks to himself. He sits at one of the corner tables in The Saloon, putting less effort into his sketching than normal. Up to now, he’s actually been trying to make them look a little more polished, since Lee Know has appropriated a few of them as decor.

“How’s it goin’?” asks Felly, coming over to see him when she has a minute. 

“Fine, how about you?”

“Fine too, I guess.” She shrugs, setting her tray down as she takes a seat next to him. She must be tired too. Beneath her freckles are dark circles under her eyes, and she seems to lack the usual spring in her step. “It seems like everything passing is slow today.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin agrees. 

“What’re you workin’ on?” she asks, leaning over to see his doodles.

He moves to show her the page of sketches. “Nothing, really. Nothing wall-worthy, anyway,” he replies, gesturing to the framed pictures Lee Know’s hung up. “When did he do that, by the way?”

“Oh, a little while back. A week or two.” She smiles, looking over at the ugly cactus behind the bar. “I think it’s a real improvement to the whole atmosphere.”

Hyunjin smiles too, though he’s looking at her instead of the artwork. Even with her dark circles and her wearied demeanor, she’s still so lovely. He admires how her blonde hair catches the afternoon light filtering in, how her smile crinkles at her eyes . . . Man, he thinks, there’s something wrong with me for sure. 

“Oh, is that the time?” she asks, perking up as she catches sight of the clock. “I should start dinner so Binnie can take his break. Are you gonna stick around?”

“Hm.” Hyunjin considers it. “I guess not,” he decides, flipping his sketchbook closed as he stands. “I’ll probably take a nap before Chris gets home and eat with him. I’m sure he wants to gush about all our antics this morning.”

“Ah, and you’re a good friend not to deny him that.”

He raises his eyebrows, “I don’t know, Felly, we were pretty good.”

She rolls her eyes. “You and me didn’t even do anything.”

“Don’t say that,” he teases, swatting her on the shoulder. “You’re the best signal-giver I’ve ever seen! That’s a valuable skill, too, so don’t ever forget it.”

“Yeah, right,” she chuckles. “I think I’ll keep my day job, just in case. Now go get yourself home and rest those signal-giving muscles.” She gives his arm a squeeze for emphasis.

“Yes ma’am,” Hyunjin replies, pushing in his chair and seeing himself out. 

It occurs to him how much more awake he feels after that short conversation with Felly. Strange, he thinks. Really strange.

~~~

The hectic morning gives way to a nice afternoon. Changbin sits outside on The Saloon’s back porch, getting a breath of fresh air. It’s been slow since Lee Know and Jeongin went into town, and the bar is empty, and obviously Changbin didn’t get much of a good night’s sleep, so he spends a little extra time on his break. Felly offered to close so he could just go home, but he’d never let her spend the whole evening here alone. Certainly not after the day they’ve had.

The weather is really good, he notices, though the cool evenings of March will soon be replaced with the rising heat of April and May. A few feet away, two of Lee Know’s cats lay out in the setting sunbeams, pretending not to notice Changbin. He wonders if they even know who he is after his five months of working here.

With a sigh, he stretches, taking extra care on his bad shoulder, and stands up. Time to get back behind the bar and twiddle his thumbs until Lee Know comes home.

Opening the door, he catches sight of Felly carrying a crate in from The General Store to the kitchen. In her daze, she doesn’t see him come in as she disappears through the doorway.

Changbin steps in, following her to the kitchen. He’s about to call out and offer to help when he hears the crash of a box of dishes being dropped.

“Ow, fuck,” gasps a baritone voice. “Shit!” 

What the Hell? Changbin freezes in the kitchen doorway, wide-eyed. “Whoa,” he blurts, “was that you?” 

Felly’s head snaps up, startled. Her eyes are huge, mouth agape. She forgets the mess of broken dishes at her feet.

“Oh my God,” she stammers in that shockingly deep voice, again taking Changbin aback. “Oh my God, Binnie, no, listen, I can explain—”

“Wait—”

She rushes over, reaching for his hand as he backs up, her frantic tone making his pulse quicken. “Binnie, I swear I didn’t wanna lie to you, there was no other way, I’m so sorry—”

“Felly, calm down, what—”

“I was gonna tell you, I promise, I’ve been trying for weeks — ”

“Felly!” Changbin shouts. 

She halts, panic etched into every inch of her face. She’s practically trembling as she lets her hand slip out of Changbin’s, stepping back. It’s like she’s a prey animal caught in a trap.

“What the Hell is going on?” he asks, quieting his voice. 

She looks down, breaking her stare as fidgets in anxiety. “Um . . .”

God, he can’t bear to watch her struggle like this. Laying his shock aside, Changbin places a careful hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath,” he says. “Start from the beginning.”

She complies, inhaling shakily. “Sorry, um . . . for one thing, my name isn’t Felly. It’s Felix.”

~~~

It's been hours now. The bar is closed, and the sun has gone down. Binnie sits before him on the porch. His back is turned, framed against the dark sky and the stars. It’s just the two of them. Lee Know and Jeongin have yet to return, and Seungmin went up early after the long day they’ve had. Felix should’ve turned in too, but he couldn’t rest without checking in with Bin first. 

He settles himself beside Binnie on the porch’s edge. Their sides press together, like they have always done when they sit like this. There is no space left between them. Felix reaches out and grabs Binnie’s hand in his. It should be awkward, but it's not. 

“How are you so fine with this?” he whispers. 

Binnie sort of flinches, still struck by Felix’s voice even in its hushed tone. Yet, he looks over with a soft smile. He doesn’t answer the question. He doesn’t say anything for a while. At some point, his thumb begins rubbing gentle circles into Felix’s hand, making him want to cry for the second time today (this time for a vastly different reason). 

“What is there for me to be fine about?” he finally replies, squeezing Felix’s hand as he does. “Nothing has changed. You’re still you.” 

It’s so honest, so sincere that Felix can’t stop his eyes from welling over as a tear trails down his cheek. Bin is quick to brush it away with his other hand, cooing softly as he does. 

“No, don’t cry. It’s okay. You’re safe with me. You always have been.” 

Felix, eyes clouded with tears, can’t bear it anymore. He pulls Binnie in close, tucking his head and his tears into the man’s shoulder (probably staining his shirt beyond repair) and sobs. 

“I know!” he cries, muffled, as Binnie predictably rubs soothing patterns on his back. 

And he does know. Really, he should have known sooner. He waited too long to trust Binnie with this. Felix has had so many opportunities to share, and he let them all fly past in his worry about how it might change things between them. But he should have known that it would never change. 

After the initial shock of hearing his voice, Binnie had calmed down, had spoken to him in careful tones, listening to Felix as he explained himself. He didn’t yell at him. He wasn’t mad. He took it all in stride and accepted everything as if it was all just . . . ordinary facts about Felix as a person. 

“Does anyone else know?” Binnie asks, drawing Felix’s attention back to the present. 

He removes his head from Bin’s shoulder, sniffling and rubbing his eyes. “Um, just Lee Know, obviously. Han. ‘Cause I give him my old clothes, and we talk. Who’s he gonna tell, y’know?” He laughs, hoping to bring some levity to the situation. “Jeongin knows too, because he hears my confessions from time to time.” 

“Can he do that? He’s not really a priest, is he?”

Felix shakes his head, smiling. “No, but I figured I needed to confess it to someone, and Jeongin would take the whole sanctity of the confessional seriously. Plus, it’s funny.” 

“So, other than them and me, no one else knows?” Binnie clarifies.

Felix shakes his head. “They can’t know,” he says. “If Chris and Seungmin knew, they’d have to turn me in. I don’t wanna put them in that position. And God, Jinnie just met me, and I want so badly for him to like me.” He wipes his face again, sighing. “He seems so captivated by Felly. I can’t take that away from him.”

Binnie hums, looking off into the distance as if in deep thought. He’s still absently rubbing Felix’s back as he contemplates. Felix wants to ask what he’s thinking, but he figures it’s better to wait it out. Let him process everything for a moment. Even if that moment drives his anxiety up a wall. 

“I don’t think Felly is too different from you, Felix.” His gaze is still focused away, brow furrowed, deep in thought. “You don’t change just because you put on a dress or change your voice. It’s you.” 

Binnie finally shifts his gaze to him. His look is intense. Felix reaches for his free hand and squeezes. 

“And Jinnie,” he squeezes his hand back. “Jinnie cares about you. Just like I do. I don’t think it would change anything for him. It hasn’t for me.” Binnie smiles at him softly. Lowering his voice, he adds at the end, “You haven’t even seen his sketchbook.” 

Felix snorts, rolling his eyes. “Whatever!”

“I’m serious!” Binnie whines. “Don’t believe me, then. It’s fine. I’m only just the coolest guy you know.” 

There’s a wide smile on his face now. Felix is laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Also, don’t worry about our friendly neighborhood law enforcement. I don’t believe they know the meaning of that word, ‘enforcement’.” 

It’s just the smile on his face that hurts now. His worries are gone, replaced by the joy he feels just being with Binnie. He wishes he had told him sooner, but he’s glad that they can be like this now. Like normal, but now Felix can be Felix. He doesn’t have to worry about any sort of performance. 

“Thank you,” he says. “Really, thank you.”

Bin squeals, pulling Felix into a bear hug. Idly, he marvels at the strength of his arms, even as he worries about the health and safety of his spine. 

Binnie breaks the hug to wink at him flirtatiously. “Aw, Felix. Anything for my favorite lady!” 

~~~

The ride back into town has passed a lot quicker than normal. As Lee Know wraps up his recount of this morning’s episode, Jeongin can hardly believe his ears. He had wondered why they got a late start leaving Jay Park today, but Lee Know had assured him that he’d tell the story at some point.

Jeongin had been skeptical that there was any story at all, suspecting that Lee Know had just overslept or lost track of time. But now, on the last stretch of the ride home, Jeongin realizes how much he actually missed this morning.

“Let me get this straight,” he’s saying, crossing his arms. “Y’all came up with this whole plan, woke up in the middle of the night, and acted it all out before dawn this morning? And I was just asleep the whole time?”

“Yeah,” Lee Know replies. “Although the plan was mostly Han’s. All I did was give him a couple ideas, since I know how Jungkook usually operates.”

“That’s not what I’m hung up on,” Jeongin says, shaking his head.

“You’re hung up? What’re you hung up on?”

“Why didn’t y’all ask me to be in the plan?”

Frowning, Lee Know opens his mouth and closes it again, confused. “Sorry, what?”

“Why didn’t anybody want me to be in it?” Jeongin repeats. “Should I be offended? Do y’all think I’d be a bad actor or something?”

“Wh—no,” Lee Know says, holding up a hand. “We thought you’d think it was stupid.”

Scoffing, Jeongin waves an indignant hand. “Of course I think it’s stupid. That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be included.”

“You were asleep!” Lee Know says defensively. “It would have been wrong to wake you up in the middle of a Friday night. You seriously would’ve preferred that?”

“Well yeah!” Jeongin exclaims. “Better that than everybody doing it without me!”

Lee Know shuts his mouth, shaking his head as he puts his eyes back on the road, gripping the reins. “I don’t believe that,” he mutters. “You would’ve been pissed.”

“I’m pissed anyway,” Jeongin mutters back. “Can’t believe you asked Seungmin and not me.” 

Honestly, maybe it’s a little silly to feel left out, but the whole farce sounds like it was fun. And even if he had complained and refused and gone back to sleep, Jeongin would like to have been thought of. He’s also kind of surprised, considering how Seungmin seems intent on roping him into every single stupid activity that happens in town.

“I don’t get you,” Lee Know sighs. “But I’m sorry we didn’t wake you up at one o’clock in the morning and ask you to rehearse and perform a staged crime. Next time I’ll know better. And for the record, Seungmin did want to wake you up, we just told him it’d be too mean.”

Against his will, Jeongin’s frown softens. “Well. I guess that makes me feel a little better. Thank you for apologizing.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Dusk is giving way into dark when they finally reach the outskirts of Jay Park and bump along into town. They always seem to cut it just close enough. Jeongin absently wonders how they’ve always managed to stay out of trouble. Especially when trouble comes looking for them. Maybe he and his friends just have good luck.

Don’t think too hard about that, he warns himself. Or else you’ll jinx it.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin flops down on his creaky attic bed with a contented sigh. His face is sore from smiling so big, his head still swimming just a little bit from the drinks he had earlier. How long has it been since he enjoyed himself this much?

Sitting up against the wall, he reaches for the stack of stationery on his nightstand. Lately, not much worth writing has happened—a consequence of actually settling down somewhere long enough to adopt a mundane routine. But today is a special occasion, and it’s been a really good day. Which means he owes his mother a letter.

March 20th, 1897

Dear Mama,

I’m twenty years old today! Can you believe it? It feels exactly the same as being nineteen, but it sounds much nicer to say “I’m twenty.”

I don’t remember telling anybody that my birthday was coming up, but I must have mentioned it because my friends surprised me today! They acted normal all day, and then Chris and Seungmin came in early from work, and we had a party at The Saloon. It wasn’t anything big, but everyone was there, even Han. We played all sorts of card games and drank more than we should have, and it was so much fun! And Felly even baked a cake, have I mentioned that she’s a really good baker?

And they even gave me birthday gifts! Chris gave me some pretty stationery for when this set runs out, Lee Know gave me two brushes for my watercolors, and Seungmin gave me a pair of wool socks and a police citation for “having too much fun” (which made me laugh so hard I fell off my chair). Jeongin gave me a poetry book because I told him I lost my old one. That was really thoughtful of him. Han said he was sorry he didn’t get me something, but I didn’t mind because I didn’t ask for gifts and he doesn’t have much money anyway.

My favorite gift was a really nice fountain pen that Felly and Binnie gave me. I love it so much! I can’t believe they know me so well! I'm excited about all the things I can try with it. I was thinking I could take up calligraphy and try designing my own stationery, wouldn’t that be amazing?

Anyway, the best part was that we were all there together and having fun. I was actually a bit sad this morning because I missed you and I was homesick. It’s so strange to have a birthday without you here. As much as I’ve liked traveling around, it’s hard to be so far from home. 

I do still feel a little sad, but once all my friends were with me I remembered why I’m happy here. I’m glad I’ve decided to stay here for so long already, so I can actually get to know these people and enjoy being with them. 

It might be silly to say, but I hope you thought of me today. I know I thought of you a lot. I can’t say how much longer it’ll be before we see each other again, but when we do we’ll have to celebrate everything we’ve missed. Look forward to it!

In the meantime, please make sure you’re taking care of yourself. I’ll do the same over here. Next time I see you we’ll both be healthy and we’ll have nothing to worry about except having a good time. I love you!

Your newly twenty-year-old son,

Hyunjin

~~~

It’s late afternoon. Hyunjin sits alone on the front porch of The Saloon, sipping sweet tea and dangling his legs off the edge. On his lap rests his poetry book and a fresh sheet of Chris’s stationery, still blank. For the last few weeks he’s had nothing much to write about. Today, though, he finally has thoughts to put on paper.

For a while Hyunjin has wanted to tell his mother more about some of his friends. Even though she’s all the way back in New Orleans, he wants her to feel like she knows them. He hasn’t really gotten around to it yet, but the events of today have given him a good reason to start.

April 17th, 1897

Dear Mama,

I hope you’re doing well! I know it’s been a while since my last letter, but you’ll have to forgive me because I’m writing to you now. Life has been boring in Jay Park, but a good thing happened that I wanted to tell you about!

I know I’ve mentioned my friend Jeongin a bunch of times. It took me a while to get to know him because he’s a little bit shy and he spends almost all of his time working. He’s the schoolteacher five days a week and the church minister on Sundays. Sometimes he spends his Saturdays going to the city with Lee Know even though they’re his only days off. He doesn’t talk about his work much, but I think he cares a lot about it.

It must be difficult to be a teacher. Often, Jeongin comes home tense, like he’s frustrated with his students’ progress. I don’t think he blames them, though, because he never complains about the kids themselves. Actually, some of the only times I’ve really seen him smile are when he’s talking about the kids. The point is, his job isn’t easy and it makes him stressed. I always feel bad about that because he works so hard and I want him to do well.

And he’s also really thoughtful! I borrowed one of his church hymnals when I first came to town because I wanted a substitute for my lost poetry book. (I told Jeongin about it so he wouldn’t think I was stealing from the church.) I didn’t know he even remembered that, but then he gave me a poetry book for my birthday! That’s when I realized what a good friend he is, even though he doesn’t usually talk about his feelings or anything like that.

So, the reason I’m writing is to tell you that today he asked me if I’d like to help him out at school in the fall. Right now they’re about to have a few months off for the summer, but Jeongin said he was thinking that I could teach art to the students. Isn’t that amazing! Can you imagine me doing that? I think it would be so much fun! And Jeongin thinks it could help them focus more on their other subjects too, which is also really good.

I was so happy he asked for my help, I told him yes right away, but I probably shouldn’t have. I didn’t even think about the possibility that I won’t still be here in the fall. It’s not like I’m thinking about leaving anytime soon, but what if something happens and I decide to move on? 

I don’t really want to think that far ahead. I’ve liked just taking things a few days at a time, wandering and traveling without having to worry about the future. But maybe now I want to think about the future. I just don’t know if I can commit to anything yet.

Anyway, I wanted to tell you about that because it’s been on my mind all day since he asked me. I’m still really excited even though it might not work out. 

I hope I can hear back from you sometime soon. I’ve really missed you! 

Your (future teacher) son,

Hyunjin

~~~

It’s getting a little too warm to be sitting by the fire, but Hyunjin needs the light. He’s looking through his sketchbook, trying to choose drawings of his friends to send to his mother. He’s gotten a bit distracted, though, spending a little more time than he intended looking at his pictures of Felly.

Honestly, the ones from a few months ago aren’t nearly as good as his more recent work. He doesn’t want to rework them though, because he likes to see the progress.

“What’s up?” asks Chris.

Hyunjin jumps, startled. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Chris replies. He tilts his head, nodding to the sketch book. “Whatcha doin’?” 

Hyunjin immediately flips it over so it’s blank. “Uh, I was just about to write a letter to my mom.” 

Chris grins, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Well, tell her I said hi.” He gives Hyunjin a pat on the shoulder on his way out of the room.

Exhaling, Hyunjin turns back to his sketches. Come to think of it, he does need to write his mother a letter to go along with the drawings he’s going to send. Looking at all these drawings of Felly, he has a pretty clear idea of what he should write about.

May 26th, 1897

Dear Mama,

How have you been? It’s been pretty stagnant as far as May goes in Jay Park. All I’ve been doing is drawing the scenery, and, as I get to know them better, my friends. I’ll be sure to attach some to this letter, so you can place some faces to all these names I’ve been throwing at you these past months. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen any of my work. Hopefully, It’s improved some, but be sure to send back any critiques. You know how much I value your insight. 

I was actually just flipping through some of my sketches before deciding to write to you. Chris caught me, and I quickly had to change to something else. It’s so embarrassing, the idea of him seeing all the pictures I’ve drawn of them. The landscapes are all fine and good, but the portraits! I have put so much effort into capturing their likeness, he is sure to think me odd. Oh Mama, don’t even get me started on all the ones of Felly I have tucked in that thing. He’d think I was half in love with her.

Speaking of, have I told you about Felly? I must have, but I feel as though there is just so much more for me to say about her. I simply must tell you more.

Felly is probably the person I spend the most time with here. She always goes out of her way to talk to me or sit with me when The Saloon isn’t busy, and she’s really nice to be around. It’s easy to talk with her, even though we don’t have a lot in common. She always asks me about whatever I’m drawing or reading and tells me silly bar gossip. And she and Binnie make me laugh a lot. She’s a good listener, too. She can be exciting and energetic but she can also be calm and serious when she needs to be. It doesn’t make sense because I haven’t told her all that much about myself, but I feel like she knows me really well just from the way she acts with me. Like she knows how to read me. And I think I know her pretty well too, which I’m proud of. Being with her and talking with her feels so natural that it makes me feel like sharing more about myself, even though I know that’s not a good idea.

Actually, I don’t quite understand it. Ever since I started traveling I’ve been trying to keep things to myself. I never wanted to share too much about where I came from (you understand why) and I didn’t want to get too attached to anybody while I was passing through. But it hardly took any time at all for me and Felly to become friends. It’s almost like we’ve been friends for a long time already. Maybe we just complement each other well. 

I draw a lot of pictures of her. You can see from the ones in this letter that she’s really pretty. I’m afraid it would be weird if she saw all these drawings of herself, so I try to hide them. But I can’t help it! She’s got the perfect face for drawing. See how big her eyes are? And her freckles? She has such eye-catching features . . . Like I said, it can’t be helped.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble on about the pretty barmaid for the whole letter. But it really is strange how much I like her, and I wanted to tell you about it. 

I hope you like the drawings I’m sending. Tell me what you think of them! I’ve only got a few sketches of Han since I don’t see him that often, so his portrait’s not as good as the others. I’ll send you a better one sometime soon. Oh, and before I forget, Chris said to tell you hello. 

I love you! Write to me sometime soon, okay? And I’ll keep sending you all my silly ramblings from the middle of nowhere.

Your son,

Hyunjin

~~~

When Hyunjin finally makes his decision, it’s less of a decision and more of an acceptance. He’s going up to his room after church one Sunday, just to grab his sketchbook or something to read before he camps out at The Saloon for the rest of the day. 

Climbing the stairs up to the attic, he realizes he’s gotten into the habit of taking them two at a time because it’s so much faster. Opening his bedroom door, he instinctively steps over the creaky floorboard at the threshold. He pauses a moment to take in the midmorning light as it streams through his window. It always surprises him how lovely it looks. The soft old quilt on the bed and the faded colors of the rug on the floor. These things are so familiar now, and yet he likes them more than he did when he first got here.

Hyunjin sighs contentedly, turning to pick up his sketchbook and go about his routine. As he reaches for it, he pauses. On the page facing him is a rough charcoal of Chris and Binnie that he’d been working on. It’s smudged and hazy, showing his inexperience with the medium, but he’s not staring at it to critique himself. 

It’s just that all of the sudden, he sees how well it captures Chris’s big smile and the crinkle of his eyes, and the fullness of Binnie’s face, and the way the two of them look when they’re happy together. 

Hyunjin sits down on the bed. He turns another page to a new sketch of Seungmin in an action pose, drawing his gun, and smiles. Another page shows Jeongin half-asleep at the bar, totally unaware that Hyunjin was drawing him. Another shows Lee Know’s smirk and raised eyebrow, the expression that defines his attitude. The other side of that page shows Han grinning ear-to-ear, a quick scribble that Hyunjin scrawled down before Han could notice him doing it. And of course, the next page is one of Felly, smiling calmly in profile, making Hyunjin sigh as he looks at the drawing for the hundredth time.

When did he start knowing these people so well? When did he start caring so much? It’s not a recent development. Ninety percent of his artwork at this point is based on his friends, but it’s not about the accuracy of his work. He realizes what he’s been trying to do is capture them on the page, their personalities, their characteristics, everything about them. 

Exhaling, Hyunjin flips the sketchbook closed and runs a hand through his hair. It’s time to stop beating around the bush. He knows he’s been putting off the inevitable, but he can’t think of why he even bothered to.

As always, there’s only one way to make it official. He reaches for a blank sheet of stationery off his nightstand, taking a deep breath.

June 13th, 1897

Dear Mama,

I hope you’re doing well! I’ve been good. Well, actually I’m feeling a little bit overwhelmed at the moment, which is why I’m going to write this all down for you. It hit me all of the sudden just now that I need to stay here in Jay Park.

As much as I love you and as much as I miss home, I’ve always known that I wouldn’t fit into the life that was ahead of me there. The plans that father has for me about the company and my future have never been what I want. I know that’s not a surprise to you. When I decided to leave, I thought maybe I would escape for a little while and experience something different from what I grew up in. Coming back home was always a possibility because I wasn’t sure if I would find a place for myself out here. 

Jay Park is not the kind of place I thought I’d end up in. I imagined myself touring through places full of life and atmosphere, bigger cities with culture and prospects . . . Jay Park isn’t really like that. When I got here I meant to move on after a couple of days, but I’ve found here is a completely different kind of life and atmosphere than what I expected. The town might not be anything special, but the people here are so different from anyone I’ve met before. 

I should have realized it from the moment Chris offered me a place to stay. I fit in here. My friends are fun and interesting and they care about each other. I feel like they actually know me and I can actually rely on them, and that’s not something I’ve had anywhere else. Chris gave me somewhere to live, Felly and Binnie have become my best friends, Jeongin even offered me a job. I didn’t have to give them anything in return, they just took me in. I don’t know how such good people all ended up in one place. 

It almost scares me. I think it does scare me, and maybe that’s why I’ve been hesitant to commit and stay here. I like it here so much because I love my friends, but I’ve hardly told them anything about myself or where I come from. Why should they trust me? I don’t think any of them hold it against me though, because they aren’t like that. It’s confusing.

But the one thing I’m not confused about is that I want to be here. I’ve never met people who I like so much. I’ve never been so content to do nothing and have such a boring, mundane life. It’s hard to believe that I want that now, but I do.

And I do feel a little bit guilty about deciding to stay here. I promise I’m going to come home sometime, maybe in a few months or next year. Not to stay, but to see you. Please don’t think that I’ve forgotten about you or that I don’t care, because nothing could be more untrue. I miss you every day. But I made the right choice when I left home, and I know that I’ll have a home here too.

I love you, Mama. Since you know I’ll be here, please write to me. I would love to hear from you so much. I’ll keep writing too, telling you all about this place and these people, and hopefully you’ll see that I belong here.

Your officially-settled son,

Hyunjin

~~~

Hyunjin’s mother breathes a sigh, raising her eyes from her son’s letter. Across the room, her husband lies asleep, exhausted despite it being the middle of the day. She puts the letter back into its envelope and crosses the room, not bothering to walk quietly. It would take a lot more to wake her husband up.

Unlocking her desk’s top drawer, she deposits Hyunjin’s letter into it with all the other ones he’s sent. Of course she’s saved them. They really are starting to pile up. It’s important to keep them, though. It means a lot that her son has continued to keep her involved in his life this way.

It’s a relief that he’s finally made the decision to stay put. He’s done enough wandering aimlessly through the desert. And he’s done enough agonizing over whether or not to come home.

Just across the hall, his father sinks into illness, condition only worsening gradually as the weeks go by. He’s hardly able to continue running his company. No one, least of all Hyunjin’s mother, has informed him of his father’s sickness. It won’t be long before he’ll have to pass on the company’s leadership to someone else, but Hyunjin won’t be here to accept it. 

Thank goodness, she thinks. He’ll be so much better off in Texas. 

She lingers at her desk, taking a moment to leaf through Hyunjin’s drawings before she closes up the drawer again. It’s so wonderful that he sent them. His friends look just how she imagined they would after hearing about them in his letters. Reading about them and seeing their faces, it’s no surprise that Hyunjin fit right in with them.

Well actually, Felly is a bit of a surprise in general. It’s . . . uncommon for Hyunjin to be so interested in a girl. His mother is well aware of that. But Felly’s certainly very pretty if the drawing is anything to go by, and she sounds like a sweetheart from Hyunjin’s letters. 

Maybe it just took finding the right girl, she wonders. 

She puts the pictures and letters back into the drawer and makes sure to lock it. When he left, Hyunjin didn’t want anyone but her knowing where he went. She’s not about to recklessly leave his letters out for his father to see. She does drop one, though, and Felly’s picture falls beneath the desk without her realizing.

Taking a clean sheet of stationery, she finally begins to write back after all these months. It’ll be a heartfelt letter, but one devoid of too much detail. She doesn’t want her son to worry about coming home to look after his father or the family’s company. She’d never lie to him, of course, but . . . what Hyunjin doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Chapter Text

Chris doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s so rare that he ever has a day off. What do people even do with free time like this? 

He can’t stop himself from waking up at dawn like usual. He tries to take his time getting dressed. He puts a little more effort than normal into cooking breakfast, making drop biscuits, fried eggs, and bacon.

Changbin comes into the kitchen, already dressed despite also having the day off.

“You’re up early,” Chris observes, passing him a cup of coffee. 

“Force of habit. I’d be sleepin’ if I could, but Lee Know’s conditioned me to wake up at six for the rest of my life,” Binnie sighs. He looks at the messy countertop. “Biscuits? What’s the occasion?”

Chris shrugs. “I had time, so I thought I might as well. Do you want syrup or jelly?”

“Syrup. You need to learn how to be lazy,” Binnie says. He pats Chris’s shoulder as he moves past him to the table. “You work too much, and then you do more on your days off.”

“I think I work a normal amount,” Chris says, shrugging. “I mean, I have an important job! Being the sheriff, y’know, it’s the kinda job where you have to spend a lot of time working for it to be effective.”

“Right,” Changbin says flatly. “Real time-consuming, suppressin’ all the crime in this town, which you do.”

Shaking his head, Chris tuts. “Say what you want, Binnie. Y’know, I don’t stand here devaluing your job.”

“Oh, you should. My job is basically worthless, everybody knows that.”

Chris frowns. “Don’t say that. You work so hard! You stand on your feet behind the bar all day—”

“Your bacon’s burning.”

“Oh, whoops. Give me a second.” 

Chris goes back to tending breakfast, taking the bacon out of the pan so he can fry the eggs in the fat. When everything is done cooking, he fixes himself and Changbin each a plate and takes a seat across from him.

It’s nice to be able to take their time eating breakfast. Chris feels like he doesn’t see that much of Changbin lately, even though they live together. Chatting over breakfast without having to rush is so refreshing.

Only as they’re finishing up their meal does Jinnie stumble downstairs, rubbing his eyes. His hair sticks up in a few different directions and one or two of his shirt buttons are undone.

“Good morning,” he mumbles as he shuffles into the kitchen.

“Mornin’,” Binnie replies, amusedly looking him up and down.

“Aw, look at sleepy Jinnie!” Chris smiles. “There’s eggs, bacon, and biscuits if you want some. I hope they’re still warm.”

“You made biscuits?” Jinnie’s eyes widen in anticipation. “I love biscuits.” He starts fixing himself a plate, immediately enlivened.

Chris waves a modest hand, though he’s actually quite flattered by Jinnie’s excitement. “I’ve got the day off, so I figured I could spend a little extra time on breakfast,” he says.

Jinnie frowns as he comes to sit by Chris. “I didn’t know you took days off.” 

“He doesn’t,” Changbin says, sipping his coffee. “It should be a federal holiday for how rarely it happens. Hey, what’re you doing?”

Jinnie freezes in place, having just set his dish down next to Chris. “Sitting?”

Changbin pats the chair next to him. “Why would you sit over there when you could sit by me? This chair is better anyway, look at it, it’s nicer.”

“Oh, please,” Jinnie rolls his eyes as he plops down next to Chris, but he can’t seem to fight off his smile. Or stop his ears from turning red. Aww.

“I love this,” Chris says, grinning at them both. “We should eat breakfast together all the time.”

“If you make biscuits all the time . . .” Jinnie doesn’t finish his sentence, occupied with taking as big of a bite as he possibly can, squeezing his eyes shut in order to do so.

Chris meets Changbin’s eyes across the table. Changbin has to look away to keep from laughing, biting his lip. Aww. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, Jinnie,” Chris says, patting his friend on the back. “It’d be a shame if we lost you to a biscuit, of all things. Binnie, I know, would be devastated.”

The man in question narrows his eyes at Chris, even as he smiles. Jinnie just glances between them with raised eyebrows, oblivious to everything but the biscuit. 

Chris gets up to take away the dirty dishes. “After church, do either of you wanna run a few errands with me? I need to go to the post office.”

“Sure,” Jinnie says, “so do I.”

“Not me,” Binnie sighs, rolling his shoulders back. “I’ve got other plans.”

The conversation moves along before Chris thinks to ask what those plans are.

~~~

Jeongin isn’t all too sure why he’s going along with this. As he stares out into the crowd of people who stayed after the service (of what constitutes about half of the town), he regrets ever falling for cries of the children. This is probably going to be way more work than it's worth.

Before school had let out for break a few weeks ago, Jeongin had promised his students that he would assemble something of a choir for the Sunday service. 

It all started when one little girl tripped and fell, skinning her knee. With tears in her eyes, she wobbled over to Jeongin and asked him if he could “pwease sing the Boo-Boo Song” for her. 

It took a moment for Jeongin to even place the reference, but as soon as the topic of singing came up, half a dozen other voices chimed in about how much they loved singing during church. They prattled on about how great it would be to have a group of the best singers in town for Sunday service. Names were thrown around, fingers were pointed. Jeongin even swears he heard one voice mention the deputy. 

At the end of it all, once they’d listed every known good singer in this small town, they’d turned in unison to face Jeongin. Their owlish eyes blinked at him expectantly. 

He was so shocked that they had managed to come together on a point that he could do nothing but stammer out a promise to try and put something together during the summer months. And really, he didn’t mind the idea as long as his kids were happy. At most, he figured he would make an attempt at rallying the people and peacefully continue about his business without too much effort. But really, he figured he would forget all about it and no one would ever bring it up again. 

And in truth, he had forgotten about it for a little while. But his students had not. 

Not long into his vacation, parents and students alike approached him about the status of the upcoming choir. They asked about auditions, they asked about songs. Jeongin was getting sick of all the questions, but what really tipped him over the edge was last week. 

Seungmin had come strolling into The Saloon with a piece of paper tucked underneath his arm. 

In general, Jeongin’s not inclined to care about what Seungmin does in his free time. He’s not. Truthfully, he blocks him out as much as he can. Honest. Seungmin, unfortunately, is adamant about combatting that. 

“Your students are so kind, Jeongin!” he’d called from across the room. “They handed me a formal invitation to your choir tryouts on your behalf. I’m so flattered that you thought of me.”

Jeongin, shocked, could only manage to ask, “What?” 

Seungmin hadn’t seemed to hear him. “It’s too bad I’m on the clock whenever this is supposed to be going down,” he said, laying the slip of paper on the bartop in front of him. “A real shame. I would’ve loved to be able to go. I’m told I have the voice of an angel.” 

Binnie had leaned over to take a peek as Jeongin frantically scanned the page. “Huh,” he said, “you didn’t tell me about this, Jeongin. How fun!”

As much as Jeongin had wanted to chuck the flyer and forget about it, his kids had played their hand. Sure enough, everyone who the students had considered to be the town’s best singers had turned up with invitations just like Seungmin’s. 

All of that now culminates on this day, in this event. Choir tryouts.

Jeongin does not want to be here. He should be at home, napping or drinking or something. This is going to be so much work. His one consolation is that Seungmin is actually working today, which means no one will be here to rub it in if everything goes south. Chris has the day off, making Seungmin the (un)official acting sheriff. 

Surely, he wouldn’t abandon his job and the safety of the community for some dumb choir tryouts.

~~~

Seungmin has never been happier. With Chris having the day off, he’s the acting sheriff, and his first rule of business is to abandon his job and the safety of the community for Jeongin’s dumb choir tryouts. 

The event itself is set to take place an hour after church, giving the people plenty of time to return home and change out of their Sunday best into more comfortable clothes. Seungmin uses this hour to return to the station and at least appear as the sheriff, twiddling his thumbs and swiveling in his chair. He knows Jeongin isn’t expecting him to be there. He told Jeongin himself that he would be too busy to even come. 

Seungmin, however, is a big fat liar. Jeongin should really know this by now. There’s no way in Hell Seungmin is missing these tryouts.

He makes sure to stall just a little bit longer than the hour. He wants his arrival to be a surprise. By the time he arrives at the chapel, everyone who’s auditioning is tucked into the pews. Seungmin is able to slide in the back, unnoticed. He’s sure Jeongin misses him entirely. Perfect.

As Jeongin kicks off the whole thing, stumbling gamely through his introductory speech, Seungmin settles into his hiding place and watches the crowd. 

About half the town is here. He counts roughly twenty-six people, give or take, each and everyone of them seems buzzing with excitement. Seungmin recognizes a kid from Jeongin’s class, Mark (he thinks), literally dancing in his seat.

The atmosphere is almost infectious. Even Jeongin is starting to relax, grinning happily as he organizes everyone into a line to get their songbooks. He seems genuinely excited, Seungmin thinks. It’s a refreshing look on him.

Seungmin tries to find a place near the back of the line. He still hopes to surprise Jeongin that he’s here. He tracks the very man with his eyes as he hands out hymnals to each person. 

When he finally gets to Seungmin, he doesn’t even notice. He hands him the book without looking up. 

“It’s a little rude not to acknowledge the person in front of you, don’t you think?” Seungmin quips, simply because he can’t help himself. 

“Oh, I’m sorry—” Jeongin looks up, ready with an apologetic smile, but his face goes slack when he sees who he’s talking to. “What’re you doing here?” 

Seungmin grins, reaching for the book Jeongin has yet to hand him. “Trying out. What’s it look like?”

Jeongin hesitates, holding the hymnal out of his reach. “Uh, what happened to being the acting sheriff, Deputy? What if someone commits a crime?” 

“Well,” Seungmin scratches the back of his neck, pretending to think over his answer, “half the town is here, so there’s a half chance it could be someone in this room.”

“There’s a half chance it might be me if you don’t leave,” Jeongin replies, narrowing his eyes.

By now they’re holding up the line. Several heads turn to see what the commotion is all about. 

“Now, Jeongin,” Seungmin placates as he says quietly, “is that any way to talk in the house of the Lord?” 

Jeongin sighs in exasperation, finally holding the hymnal out between them. “Fine. Just take your book. And don’t embarrass me, please.” 

Odd, Seungmin thinks, opening up the book in his hands and flipping through the pages. I thought he’d be a bit happier to see me. 

He looks up from the hymn on the page (ironically titled “My Dearest Friends in Bonds of Love”), and watches Jeongin move down the rest of the line, clearly more nervous than he had been before. 

I hope he at least likes my singing. 

~~~

One downside of the boxcar is that it’s gotten way too hot for Han to stay in there during the day. The roof is all metal, so heat gets trapped inside even with the doors wide open. It’s like an oven! Slowly but surely, the weather got warmer as summer approached, and now the heat of June has fully set in and driven Han out.

So instead of staying inside and cooking, he lies on his back in the dirt in the sliver of shade the boxcar casts, hat over his face to block out the sun. It’s almost eleven o’clock, which means soon the shade will be gone. It also means that church should be over. 

It’d be a good time to head to The Saloon, he thinks. 

He’s been spending more time there in the last few weeks. Like he’d told Binnie, it does him good to be around people sometimes. Ever since Jinnie’s birthday (which Felix convinced him to show up for), he’s actually enjoyed dropping by in town every so often. In fact, he’s looking forward to doing so today.

Which is why it’s kind of a letdown that Binnie shows up to visit him.

“What’s up?” Binnie asks, walking up and leaning against the boxcar like he hangs out here all the time.

“Nothin’ much,” Han replies, not getting up. He had only noticed Binnie approaching by chance, but luckily he saw him from a long way off and had time to play it cool. “What’s up with you? Is today a special occasion, or are you supposed to be from the census bureau?”

“I’m pretty sure they only survey households,” Binnie replies, looking the railcar up and down. “I don’t think this counts.”

“So you come visit me to insult my home?” Han tuts. “No manners. Disappointing.”

“That’s rich comin’ from you.” Binnie narrows his eyes. “And as a matter of fact, today is a special occasion. For you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Aren’t you gonna ask what I brought?” Binnie sighs, gesturing to the leather bag hanging over his shoulder, which Han notices for the first time.

He frowns, sitting up. It’s one thing for Felix or Lee Know to give him stuff, but he wouldn’t have expected that kind of thing from Binnie. “What is it?”

Binnie just slings the bag off his shoulder and plops it down at Han’s feet. The clinking sound of glass and something metallic pique his curiosity. Opening it, he spies . . . empty bottles?

“What’re these for?” he asks, blinking up at Binnie in confusion.

Binnie grins in reply. “Target practice.”

~~~

“Your juice, Sheriff,” says Lee Know, sliding Chris’s fresh glass of whiskey across the bar to him.

“Thanks,” Chris says in turn. “You’re kinda good at this whole bartending thing, Lee Know, maybe you oughta give Binnie the day off more often.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Lee Know replies, completely straight-faced. 

Chris just chuckles, taking his drink and heading back outside to the porch. Jinnie’s been sitting out there, talking with Felly while she takes a break from her work. He talks so animatedly with her, Chris can’t help but wonder what their conversation is about. She leans on the porch rail, looking totally invested in their casual chat. 

Jinnie looks over as Chris approaches and gets up, stretching his legs. “I’m gonna run home and get my sketchbook,” he says, “I’ll be back in a minute.” 

“I’ll time you,” Chris jokes, giving him a pat on the back as he passes. Leaning against the rail, he glances over as Felly picks up her tray and moves to leave. “Hi Felly,” he says, giving her a smile. “How’re you today?”

“Oh,” she smiles reservedly. “Hi Chris. I’m doin’ fine, how’re you?”

“I’m great,” he chirps, swirling the whiskey in his glass, “although I am a bit sad that Binnie, Seungmin and Jeongin are all busy on my one free day. This place is so much quieter without them.”

Felly hums, looking around. She seems hesitant to reply.

Not this again, Chris thinks, hoping his disappointment doesn’t show on his face. I thought we were making progress! He tries to think of some way to ease the tension.

“I won’t keep you,” he says, gesturing to her tray. “I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”

Chuckling awkwardly, she waves him off. “No, I have a minute or two to chat,” she says. “Jinnie was just raving about the biscuits you made this morning.”

He brightens. “Oh yeah?” At that he feels a little twinge of pride.

“Yeah,” she nods. “Um, I’d be interested in your recipe, if you’d share it with me.”

“Really?” Chris grins sheepishly, shaking his head as he sips his whiskey. “Ah, I don’t know about that. You’re a way better baker than I am, I don’t wanna embarrass myself.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” Felly says, her smile becoming more genuine. “If Jinnie liked your biscuits then they must have been good. He’s from New Orleans, he would know.”

“They have good biscuits there?” Chris asks. “I didn’t know that.”

Felly freezes for a split second, something like surprise crossing her face. She clears her throat. “. . . They do,” she replies in a clipped tone, “I’m surprised he didn’t mention it. I’d better be gettin’ back to work, Chris, it was nice chatting with you.” She gives him one last stiff smile and whisks back inside before he can even respond.

Watching her go, Chris sighs. He really thought she was getting more comfortable around him, but she always seems to regress back into that nervous awkwardness just when she starts to relax.

Oh well, he thinks. She’s just being cautious. I shouldn’t take it personally. 

It must be hard to be so far from home and keeping such a big secret. Chris understands why she’d be intimidated by him, since he’s the sheriff and all, but he’s tried so hard to telegraph that he’s not a threat to her. He’s way more understanding than a regular sheriff! Plus, it’s not like he’s really made a big deal out of enforcing other laws around here. Surely, Felly must know how much slack he’s cut Lee Know. And Han, for that matter.

But Chris has deliberately tried not to be too direct, or to clue Felly in that he knows why she’s really here. It’s up to her to reveal those things when she’s ready. He just hopes it’ll be sooner rather than later. It’s been, what, six months since she got here?

Jinnie’s footsteps bounding back up to The Saloon shake Chris out of his thoughts.

“Felly went back in?” he asks, slightly out of breath from his trip. His sketchbook is tucked under his arm.

“Yeah,” Chris says, nodding to the front door.

Jinnie huffs a sigh, taking off his hat. “Well, then I'm going back in too. You comin’?”

Chris is tempted to say no and be left alone to stew in his thoughts. But he can do that later. He'd rather spend what little free time he has left teasing Lee Know and squealing about how good Jinnie’s artwork is.

“Sure am,” he says, pushing himself off the porch rail.

~~~

Layers of different voices resonate through the chapel, laid over the simple melody of the piano, and Jeongin has to admit that it does sound pretty nice. He watches from the front of the chapel, looking over the rows of auditioners stacked into the pews.

Actually, in spite of his anxiety, the tryouts themselves aren’t going badly. 

Jeongin may not be a real choir director, but he’s got a system. The pianist plays a hymn and the whole group sings the refrain. Then, going down the row, each singer takes a couple of lines from one of the verses. Jeongin paces the rows, pausing to listen to every voice and making notes. The cycle repeats through a few songs, each one featuring a few soloists.

I need to speed this up, he thinks as the fourth hymn begins its final part. This is the last song that the pianist has prepared, and Jeongin still needs to evaluate the last several soloists. 

He moves toward the back of the chapel to hear the individual voices better. Seungmin glances at him from the back row and winks as he joins in singing the refrain. Jeongin frowns as his stomach flutters.

Ugh, the deputy. Can’t he act normal just this once? he wonders. He’s making me nervous. He tries to push that feeling down and pay attention to the music. 

It does sound good, if a little unpolished. In this refrain, though, he notices one voice standing out among the rest.

Looking up, Jeongin peers to see whose it is. It’s a high, clear voice that carries above the others. Is it . . . Seungmin? But how would the deputy know how to sing so well? Before he can determine for sure, the refrain ends.

The solo parts begin again, going down the row. Seungmin is the last soloist. Moving to stand across from him, Jeongin watches as he begins to sing.

Seungmin seems completely unruffled by the prospect of singing alone, carrying on the melody seamlessly. His singing is so effortless, not a hint of strain or tension in his face. He reads the music easily, like he’s been doing it all his life. The song is so simple, but it sounds like something special in that voice. 

It’s . . . really pretty, Jeongin realizes.

He also realizes he’s staring. Blinking, he hurries to make his notes before the solo is finished. He doesn’t need Seungmin to catch him looking all slack-jawed and amazed.

As he makes his way back to the front of the chapel, the hymn concludes with the final chords of the piano. 

Jeongin clears his throat. “Okay, that wraps up our auditions!” he announces, remembering to smile. “I’ll review my notes and have the results posted by tomorrow evening. Thank you all so much for coming!” 

With that, everything draws to a close. Thank goodness.

Several of the auditioners thank him and say goodbye as they start to filter out of the chapel. Jeongin smiles and shakes their hands, collecting their songbooks and saying his own polite farewells. He’s so relieved that the hard part is over. 

Still, something is bugging him, itching like a mosquito bite. But why? Everything went so well today. He can’t quite place what it is.

Until he spots Seungmin through the dwindling crowd. He smiles slightly, dark, curious eyes following Jeongin as if to say, you’re not gonna ignore me, are you? 

Jeongin frowns. Something about this makes him feel strange.

But he puts on a plain face and sighs as the deputy approaches. “Why is it that you insist on getting a front row seat to every stressful moment of my life?”

“I was in the back row, actually,” Seungmin corrects him. “How’d I do? Voice of an angel, right?”

Oh, that’s right. Seungmin had said he had the voice of an angel. What kind of jackass says something like that? Every bit of Jeongin’s admiration for his singing evaporates instantly.

His frown deepens as the words tumble out, “You suck and you’re ugly.”

“Woah,” Seungmin laughs, eyes widening in surprise, “I’m ugly? Really?”

Regretting this already, Jeongin doubles down anyway. “Yep. And you also suck.” God, why did he say that? It’s not even true.

Still grinning ear to ear, Seungmin laughs again. “Okay, fine,” he says. “Then I look forward to seeing those results tomorrow.” He claps Jeongin on the shoulder as he leaves. “See you at dinner!”

As soon as he’s gone, Jeongin covers his face with his hands and groans. Why was that so weird?

~~~

“No fuckin’ way,” Han laughs. “Ain’t no way you’re making that.”

“I hope you’re hungry,” Binnie taunts as he takes aim. “‘Cause you’re about to eat those words, Han.” He stands steady, facing the array of crates stacked with bottles and empty tin cans that they’ve set up as targets. His gun is one of Han’s precious .45 revolvers, which he’s commandeered for the afternoon.

“Hey, sometime today,” Han calls from where he sits in the dirt behind Binnie. “My gun’s gonna rust before you decide to shoot.”

“Hush!” Binnie calls back, cracking a smile. “I’m tryin’ to focus.”

“You should be able to focus through my heckling,” Han says, “performing under pressure makes you a better marksman, y’know.”

“Well you’re a shitty marksman anyway, now hush!” Binnie reins himself in, opting to settle down on one knee for a more stable position. Exhaling, he narrows his eyes on the tin can he’s aiming for. He seems to decide he’s ready. He pulls the trigger.

The shot cracks through the air. Han squints, trying to see past Binnie and through the gunsmoke. “Did you do it?” he asks. “Wait, no you didn’t. No way you actually did it.”

“We’re about to find out,” Binnie grins, rising and tucking the gun into its holster. “What'll you bet that I didn't make it?”

Han rolls his eye. “Look at my house and tell me what you think I have to bet with.”

“Fair enough,” Binnie says, waving him off. “Let’s go find the can.”

Together, they approach the row of targets, broken glass crunching under their boots as they search for the freshly-shot can. It’s a moment before they find it, it having flown a few feet on impact. 

“Oh, damn it,” Han groans, stooping to pick it up. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding.”

“Hell yeah!” Binnie cheers, grabbing Han and shaking him by the arm. “What’d I tell you!? With a messed-up shoulder and everything!” He cackles, reaching to take the can from Han.

It had already been shot clean through once, earlier today. Binnie’s claim was that he could make another shot through that bullet hole, which was completely absurd. But, in reality, he managed to stack the second shot right on top of the first one to create a single, larger hole, in the shape of a number 8.

“Come on,” Han protests, “you didn’t do it all the way! Just, like, partially.” In spite of his complaint, he can’t help but laugh along. It really was an amazing shot.

“This is crazy,” Binnie gushes, inspecting the bullet holes up close. “I can’t believe I actually made that.”

“You sure seemed pretty confident,” Han remarks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m keeping this,” Binnie says, gleefully heading back to the boxcar with his trophy. He takes off his hat, wiping the sweat off his face. “Man, Chris is gonna piss himself. Oh, and Jinnie’s gonna think I’m so cool.”

Han hangs back for a second, realizing there’s a smile still plastered on his face. Hanging out with Binnie is a lot more fun than he would have expected.

After they set up targets, they’d practiced seriously for a while, with Binnie observing and critiquing Han’s form to help correct his faulty technique. Surprisingly, it wasn’t so bad. Not as patronizing as Han thought it’d be. And of course, the intermittent showing off and failing and laughing eased a lot of the frustration.

And, Han’s shooting has slowly improved since they started a couple hours ago. He tends to move too fast and gets ahead of himself, which Binnie’s been trying to drill out of him. They also discovered that some of his trouble aiming has to do with having one eye, meaning he needs to adjust to his targets more than he has been. It was kind of a revelation, actually.

“Wanna do a couple more?” Binnie calls back to him. “I think we might as well break every last target before we call it quits.”

“Yeah,” Han calls back, shaking himself out of his little reflection. He follows Binnie back to the boxcar and starts to reload his revolver. 

“Next time I’ll remember to bring my rifle,” Binnie says as he shakes the empty casings out of his own gun. “I think it’ll be better for you. It’s got more anchor points, and it’s easier to aim with a longer barrel. Plus, I can’t use it anymore with my bad shoulder.”

Pausing, Han blinks. He replays those words in his head to make sure he heard them right. “You mean you wanna do this again?”

“Yeah?” Binnie says, giving him a questioning look. “You don’t?”

“No, I do,” Han assures him, holding up a hand. “I’m just surprised. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re here at all.”

Binnie’s gaze lingers on him for a second. Then he just shakes his head and goes back to messing with his pistol. “Han, you gotta start spending more time around people. This is fun,” he says. “I didn’t decide to come here out of obligation or anything. I just thought it’d be fun to do this with you.”

“Are you about to tell me you’re terminally ill or something?” Han asks, frowning.

Binnie smacks him on the arm. “Shut up. Get your gun.” He fails to hide his smile, though, and that’s a victory as far as Han is concerned.

“Alright,” he says, finished with his reloading. “What am I aimin’ for?”

“Whatever you want, the world’s your oyster. Although it looks like you’ve hit more of the green bottles. Maybe they’re lucky.”

“That’s what I was thinkin’.” Han steps up, gearing up to shoot.

“Hey, I’ve got a question,” Binnie prompts. Han glances back to see him inspecting his other revolver. “Where’d you get these guns?”

Han lowers his arm, feeling his smile disappear. “I don’t know, why’s it matter?”

“They’re a military model,” Binnie replies. “Single-Action Army. Not that the army’s the only people that have them, but this particular model—”

“I don’t remember,” Han interrupts, waving him off and turning back to his target.

Binnie scoffs. “What do you mean you don’t remember? What, did you steal ‘em?” There’s a hint of laughter in his voice, like he really thinks it was a joke.

God, why do people always have to act like this? Han grits his teeth.

“Are you new here or somethin’? I said I don’t remember, so I don’t fuckin’ remember,” he says over his shoulder. “Now can I concentrate, please?” He can hear the edge in his own voice. It almost makes him falter.

A beat passes before Binnie replies. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

Han exhales. He probably shouldn’t have snapped like that if he didn’t want to make a big deal out of this. Hopefully Binnie will just drop it. 

Slow down, he tells himself, raising the gun. Just focus on what’s in front of you.

Staggering his feet, he shifts his weight and raises the pistol, looking over its front sight. He tilts his head back and forth, tracking the target to make sure he’s seeing it right. After a breath, he’s locked on. He pulls the trigger and the shot fires.

Though can’t see through the smoke, Han hears the glass shatter. He doesn’t try to stop the grin that spreads across his face.

“Solid shot,” Binnie says approvingly. “You’re comin’ along, alright.”

“Thanks,” Han calls back, relaxing a little.

“You’re welcome. I could’ve made that with my eyes shut, though.”

“Oh yeah? Well I’ve only got one eye anyway, so that oughta count for somethin’.”

Binnie considers that. “You got me there.”

~~~

Chris was still cooking dinner when Binnie got home. He was all excited, showing off his prized target of the day (a can with a figure eight shot into it) and chattering about how much progress Han made in one afternoon.

“You spent the day with Han?” Chris asks, brow furrowing over his smile. “Really?”

Binnie shrugs. “Yeah, it was fun. And this was definitely worth it. Is Jinnie home? I wanna show him, too.”

“No, not yet,” Chris replies. He schools his features into a serious expression. “But Binnie, I’m surprised at you. Going to visit Han, in a gesture of goodwill, after everything?”

Pausing, Changbin looks confused. “What’re you talking about?”

Chris blinks, like, isn’t it obvious? “After he shot you?” he asks incredulously. He’s trying so hard not to break into a smile.

Immediately, Binnie scowls at him. “Ugh.” He shakes his head. “Chris, don’t even joke about that. You know for a fact he’s not the one who shot me.”

Chris giggles now, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Binnie, he tells a pretty convincing story . . .”

“Horseshit,” Binnie grumbles, waving dismissively. “Y’know, here I was, so excited to come home and talk to you, and here you are, telling lies about me, slandering my name.”

Chris throws an arm over his friend’s shoulder, still laughing. “Aw, don’t be sad, Binnie, I’ll take it back. I know Han couldn’t hit you point-blank if he tried. You’re way too big and tough.”

“Exactly,” Binnie pouts, crossing his arms. “Now I don’t wanna hear it again.”

“Okaaay,” Chris surrenders, squeezing Binnie’s arm. “No more, I promise.”

Chapter Text

“Wait,” Jinnie’s saying, laying his hand down on the bar. “Go back. I’m confused.”

Han rolls his eye. “Ugh, here we go again. Jinnie, pay attention, man. How many times do we gotta go over this?”

“Well if you would tell the truth,” Binnie interjects with a dirty look at Han, “then maybe the whole story would make a lot more sense.”

Chris watches this exchange with an uneasy smile. It’s not the first time he’s been present for this argument, but Changbin and Han have never had an audience (Jinnie) to fuel it before. The Saloon, empty on a weekday evening, is quiet except for their bickering.

“Jinnie,” Chris says, setting a warning hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think there’s any use in trying to understand.”

“But wait,” Jinnie says, frowning intently. “I know Binnie got shot, I just wanna know how it happened.”

“That's the problem,” Chris sighs, smiling stiffly. 

“Listen,” Binnie says, reaching for Jinnie across the bar, “there's one true version of what happened—”

“—and it's that I shot Binnie,” Han declares decisively.

Changbin grits his teeth, shooting Han a sharp glance. “Okay, you know what? Since Jinnie’s never heard it, go ahead and tell your story. And when you’re done, I’ll tell him the real story.”

Jinnie glances skeptically between them. “But then how am I gonna know which one actually happened?”

“Are you serious?” Binnie asks incredulously. He points his thumb at Han, “You'd believe him over me?”

Wincing, Jinnie holds up his hands in defense. “Look, I’m not takin’ sides here, I’m just confused.”

Chris sits back, unwilling to get in the middle of this. To be honest, he's not really sure if either of them tell the true story, or if either of them even know it. The events of Changbin’s injury and subsequent arrival in town are really pretty hazy, since none of them witnessed it exactly the same way. Or witnessed it at all, for that matter.

“You know,” he says, interrupting Jinnie’s excuses, “I think maybe we should hear it, actually. From both of you. Just to compare the details.”

“Thank you!” Han says, as if Chris’s comment wasn't purely objective, “Okay, Jinnie, brace yourself. This story might be a bit shocking to you.”

“Okay,” Jinnie says, doubt very clearly written on his face.

Han takes a deep breath and begins, “It was last winter . . .”

~~~

From the top of the boxcar, Han is perched to shoot. The wind whips cold and fast through his hair, the sun dipping below the horizon to cover him in shadow. From this vantage point, the desert sprawls out before him. But his eye is fixed, unblinking, on one target.

The man is on horseback, riding in Han’s direction, unaware of him. He’s moving fast. Whatever the reason for his hurry, Han’s going to stop him in his tracks. 

Exhaling coolly, Han tracks the man and slowly moves to take his shot. As he passes, Han takes aim at his back. 

“Gotcha,” he whispers. 

He pulls the trigger and lets the bullet fly. 

It’s a perfect shot, almost. The force of the impact makes the man double over, losing his balance and his grip as he clutches his shoulder, but somehow he doesn’t fall from his horse. Instead, the animal is spurred on faster as the man digs his heels in, and Han watches in dismay as his mark disappears before he can take another, fatal, shot.

~~~

Han crosses his arms, sitting back in his chair. Several seconds of silence follow the conclusion of his story. Changbin pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Jinnie looks completely unconvinced. He stares at Han through narrowed eyes, brows furrowed. Chris almost busts out laughing at the sheer ineffectiveness of Han’s drama.

“That makes no sense,” Jinnie decides. 

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, “I feel like it’s also a completely different story than the one you told me last time, isn’t it?”

Han scoffs. “Y’all don’t have to believe it,” he says, coolly running a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s the truth.”

Binnie clenches his teeth, visibly trying to hold himself back.

“So the guy you shot was Binnie?” Jinnie asks skeptically.

“Sure was. But I didn’t know it at the time,” Han explains. “I only found out afterward, once he started staying in town.”

Binnie makes eye contact with Chris, like, can you believe what you’re hearing? 

“And why would you shoot some random stranger you’ve never seen before?” Jinnie continues. “Like, was there a reason there?”

Chris nods along as he speaks. It’s a good point.

“Listen,” Han sighs, leaning forward seriously, “I know I’ve really mellowed out in the last few months, but . . .” he shakes his head wistfully. “I used to be crazy, y’know? Impulsive, violent, I didn’t need a reason—”

“‘Cause it didn’t happen!” Changbin interjects at last, throwing up a hand. “If you’re gonna make up a bullshit story, it’s gonna have to hold up a little better than this, Han. I mean, come on!”

“I hate to say this, but Binnie’s right.” Chris says. He shakes his head at Han’s offended expression. “Sorry, Hannie. It’s true, your story’s full of holes.”

“It is not!” Han scoffs. “I don’t have to provide every detail of my underdeveloped thought process for the story to hold water!”

“It doesn’t hold water either way!” Binnie fires back, smacking his hand on the table. “You just wanna make yourself sound badass!”

Han springs out of his chair, smacking his own hand on the table. “I was badass! I was a stone cold killer and I’ve since reformed myself while still retaining that reputation!”

Chris tries to laugh as quietly as possible because he cannot hold it in anymore. The idea of Han being a stone cold killer is just so ridiculous, and the fact that Binnie cares enough to argue like this is equally ridiculous.

“Okay!” Jinnie shouts, holding up a hand between them. “Okay, listen!”

The other two pause their bickering briefly, waiting for Jinnie’s judgment. Chris tries to stifle his giggles so he doesn’t interrupt.

“You—” Jinnie points at Han. “Sit down. You—” He points at Binnie. “I need to hear your version of the story. And you—” He points at Chris, then pauses. “You keep doing what you’re doing, I think your comments are good.”

“Oh, thanks,” Chris replies brightly.

“Alright!” Changbin says, voice cutting through the quiet. “There is one true version of what happened, and I’m gonna tell it, so listen up!”

“We’re already listening!” Jinnie and Han yell back in unison. They immediately glare at each other.

Felly pokes her head out of the kitchen with a concerned expression. “Are y’all okay out here? That’s an awful lot of yelling,” she says.

“Come sit, Felly,” Chris says, waving her over. “We’re about to hear the story of how Binnie got shot.”

“Oh, again?” Felly smiles, excitedly coming over to sit between Chris and Jinnie. “I love this story. Go ahead, Binnie, let’s have it.”

Binnie takes a breath, waiting for everyone to be quiet before he begins. “Okay,” he starts, “it happened last November. I was on this train . . .”

~~~

Changbin stares down at the crumbled wanted poster in his hands. It’s faded with wear and stained brown in places which had once been covered in blood. His fist clenches around the corners, nearly tearing into it and risking more wounds to the already-tattered sheet. It’s not like it matters. Changbin knows the image on the page by heart as if it was burned into his retinas.

“Wanted: Dead or Alive,” it reads, and Changbin grins manically. As if there was ever any choice.

~~~

“Your Honor, relevance?” Han flies out of his seat, hand in the air like some hot shot attorney.

Felly and Jinnie both snort, falling over themselves in laughter at the interruption.

“Han, don’t interrupt,” says Chris, hardly suppressing his own laugh. However, he is clearly the Your Honor in question, and he is nothing if not a professional. “I’m sure he was getting there.”

“Exactly,” Changbin huffs, arms crossed in a near pout. “I was setting up context to build tension. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right . . .”

~~~

Changbin looks up from the poster at the two men across from him in the train compartment. Both of them are dozed off, heads leaning against their respective windows. One of them has his face covered, making them look almost identical. Changbin looks back down and then back up again. How can he tell which one is the man with the bounty?

For a minute, he contemplates literally waking them up and asking. And in a way, that’s what he does. Just in a highly irregular and violent way. The train is almost in to the station and desperate times call for desperate measures.

Whipping out his pistol, he aims at the roof of the car and fires, jolting the two men awake immediately. It’s not a second later that this well-thought-out plan backfires when both of the awakened men reach for their guns.

The gunfight commences. 

Smoke streams through the compartment with every deafening shot, each one aimed to kill. It’s two against one in a desperate fight to the death, and they’re running out of time before the train arrives at the station. 

This is too chaotic. At least one or two of Changbin’s shots have hit their mark, but he knows that he has no hope of taking home a bounty. Only one of them is making this out alive, and it is going to be Changbin.

Unfortunately, he will not be left unscathed.

The train squeals to a halt at the station. This is his chance. Just as he turns to leave, his back to the ruined car, one of the men must find some final bit of strength to raise his gun. Changbin feels the bullet tear through his shoulder. On impact, he falls bodily out of the carriage and onto the wooden floor of the platform.

He swiftly twists (ignoring the screaming pain of his wounded arm) and swaps the gun to his left hand, firing several haphazard shots into the car. But the man is dead, and Changbin will be soon to follow if he doesn’t move.

It’s already night. The train station in Barstow is deserted, which is both lucky and unlucky for a man in Changbin’s boots. On the one hand, he is able to slip away undetected, so that this crime cannot be traced to him. On the other, he’s left alone, bleeding out, and in need of some major help.

Changbin’s only hope comes in the form of a lone horse tied at one of the fence posts, abandoned by some irresponsible owner. It is only right that Changbin steals him.

He rides off in the dead of night, his shoulder gushing blood and his consciousness hanging on by a thin thread, struggling just to stay upright. At some point along the journey, he blacks out. He returns to consciousness only briefly, once his body is found slumped on his horse by the sheriff of Jay Park.

~~~

Felly applauds politely at Changbin’s conclusion. Han and Jinnie both frown at him in silence. Chris just nods encouragingly and gives him a thumbs-up.

“So?” he prompts, looking at them intently.

Han and Jinnie exchange a glance.

“You used to be a gunfighter?” Jinnie asks, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Chris grins as he meets Binnie’s sour expression. That’s probably the only part that actually is true. 

“Yeah,” Han agrees, “and you can’t have survived a two-on-one fight, gotten shot in the back, and still made it to Jay Park alive.”

“Barely alive,” Changbin corrects him, as if that lends credibility to the tale. “And it’s no less believable than you hitting me from a quarter-mile away with a pistol from the top of the boxcar.”

Felly purses her lips, wide eyes shifting to Han. “Now, I hate to say this—”

“Wait, hang on,” Jinnie holds up a hand, “have you realized that both of your stories involve train-related settings? Isn’t that a little suspicious?”

“Jinnie!” Binnie exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “You cannot be implying that my story copied Han’s!”

“I didn’t say that!” Jinnie protests, “I’m just sayin’ it’s a little ironic that—”

“Jinnie’s right!” Han pipes up. “Your story was definitely borrowing from mine!” 

“Again, that is not what I said!”

“I don’t wanna hear your excuses!” Binnie cries, waving a hand for silence. “I trusted you, Jinnie! And you—” He cuts an accusatory finger at Han, “—can stop taking credit for my debilitating injury!”

Felly leans over to Chris as the argument continues, whispering, “Not that I’m not enjoying this, but how long do you think this is gonna go on?”

Chris glances at the clock on the wall. “It could be a while,” he admits. “Do you think I could get a whiskey? No, don’t get up, I know where the glasses are. Want anything?”

“No, thank you. Oh wait, maybe a glass of water?”

“Of course,” he replies, giving her a smile. He stands, stretching lazily as though there’s an atmosphere of perfect peace and serenity.

For the amount of times he’s heard the varied versions of this story, Chris is fully convinced that nobody really knows what they’re talking about. But in actuality, this argument is less about the truth and more about who can stick to their guns the hardest. Jinnie just happened to walk right into the shootout. 

Still, it’s all in good fun. Or at least it is for Chris.

~~~

Damn, those guys are loud, Minho thinks to himself, shaking his head.

He’s been in the storeroom taking inventory for the last hour, overhearing their entire argument while trying to concentrate on his numbers and checklists. He would’ve just gone out there and told them to quiet down, but he was curious to hear what kind of ridiculous things Han and Binnie would come up with.

Obviously neither one of them has any idea what actually happened. Or maybe they’re so confused about how it happened that it’s easier to make something up. The fact that they’re also trying to impress Jinnie, Felly, and Chris only fuels their nonsense.

Minho remembers, though. He saw the whole thing. He could go out there right now and recount it from beginning to end, but he doesn’t. He has work to do.

And the real story is so stupid that they wouldn’t believe it anyway.

~~~

It’s November. It’s cold and windy, and the sun is almost completely set. Minho wishes he’d done this earlier while it was still daylight, but oh well. 

He carries a bundle of stuff over his shoulder, walking fast to warm himself up. The bundle consists of a few canned goods, some clothes, and a blanket, all of which Han had asked him for a few days ago. Minho meant to get around to delivering them sooner, but time had gotten away from him.

So here he is, walking out to Han’s train car after dark, wishing it was closer. From a distance, he can hear the occasional gunshot. Han must be practicing his shooting. In the dark, like an idiot. 

Minho sighs. He’s tired of this walk already. Maybe he should have taken a mule.

But despite his regrets, it’s not long before he sees the boxcar on the horizon, barely visible in the twilight. Still, it’s easy enough to spot, since it’s pretty much the only landmark on the empty nothingness of the desert.

Which is why Minho immediately notices the guy on horseback in the distance riding towards town.

He squints, wondering why a lone rider would be coming into Jay Park. Did a train come in behind schedule or something? 

As he draws closer, Minho also spots Han on the opposite side of the boxcar from the man on horseback. He’s so far away that he’s just a fuzzy silhouette, but Minho can tell he’s poised to shoot.

A strange feeling passes over him, like something’s about to happen. He slows.

Minho spectates. The horseback rider passes the boxcar. Han, on the other side, having not heard the hoofbeats (or just ignored them), aims for a target positioned towards the boxcar. The gunshot fires. A metallic echo follows. Then a pained cry from the man on horseback, doubling over and reaching for his shoulder. 

Watching with wide eyes, Minho expects the man to fall from the horse’s back, but he doesn’t. The horse carries on at lightning speed towards town, spooked by the noise, and the man manages to keep his balance.

Minho looks back at Han, who seems utterly unaware that his bullet has just ricocheted and hit someone. 

Minho stands frozen for a second. Then he turns on his heel and walks, much faster, back in the direction of town. He can bring this stuff to Han tomorrow.

By the time he arrives back at the city limits, Chris has already found the half-conscious horseman, a gunfighter hit by a stray bullet from the worst marksman West Texas has ever seen. Minho would have gone and told Chris what happened, but he decides against it.

All in all, it’s a pretty stupid story. Who would’ve believed it anyway?

~~~

After Chris leaves the table to get him and Felly a drink, it’s like he has left a vacuum. He suddenly remembers that other people have been in The Saloon besides them. Chief among them being the third employee and owner of this establishment, Lee Know. 

Chris should probably check on him. 

It takes a moment to find where the man himself is hiding. Chris checks the kitchen first before moving to check the General Store and its subsequent storeroom. 

It’s there he finds him, the storeroom. Lee Know is standing somewhat in the middle of the room. His arms (one hand holding his clipboard with his notes on it; the other, a pen) hang slack at his sides. He stares, locked in on some canned items Chris can’t seem to place. 

It is almost as if he’s lost in thought. Chris wonders if he could hear them yapping from all the way over here. 

“Those two sure do tell some tall tales, huh?” he says by way of greeting, hoping he’s guessed correctly. Sound does tend to travel remarkably well when it comes to their bunch. 

Lee Know twitches in response, and he turns to face Chris, losing whatever staring contest he had going on with the pickling. From his vantage point in the doorway, Chris can see the lazy half-smirk Lee Know wears as he looks at him. It’s almost conspiratorial. 

“Oh, you don’t even know,” he says, still smirking. “Han really isn’t as far off as everyone thinks he is.”

This is news to Chris. He had figured the timing was off. If Changbin had come in from town like he claims, he certainly would have died. No matter how fantastic a nursemaid Chris made, a human man can only lose so much blood. However, he hadn’t expected for Han to be close at all to the truth. 

“Oh?” Chris moves closer into the room, cracking the door so that it is partially closed. Suddenly, this has become a covert meeting. “Please, Lee Know, what do you know?”

Lee Know, grinning now, shakes his head. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Don’t say that!” Chris whisper-yells back. “Did Han really shoot Changbin?”

He just shrugs, eyes moving off to the side as he does. 

“No! You’re kidding?!” 

Lee Know turns back to taking his inventory. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me.” 

The thing is, Chris does believe him. It’s just hitting him as the dots all connect. Binnie would’ve had to get shot on the way into Jay Park, passing Han’s on the way into town. Han does, in fact, own guns (against Chris’s better judgment). It is not far off to think that any one of Han’s stray bullets could have hit Changbin from any direction or distance. There’s no telling with that kid behind the barrel. 

So Han actually shot Changbin. 

“Huh. Interesting.” he finally says as he comes to his conclusion. 

Lee Know just hums, still working. 

It’s then Chris realizes he has been here for far too long, and Felly is certainly waiting on the water he promised her. With this new revelation in mind, Chris heads back out into the fray.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin stretches as he climbs the front porch steps of The Saloon. He looks forward to a lazy morning and a glass of cold sweet tea. It’s not even eleven o’clock and the day is already hot. 

Opening the door, Hyunjin is greeted to a surprising lack of activity. No one is behind the bar and almost all the tables are empty.

“Hello?” he calls, hesitantly taking off his hat.

Binnie’s head pokes out the kitchen doorway. “Oh, Jinnie!” he says. “One second!” He disappears again. As Hyunjin watches, he reappears pushing Han and Seungmin out the door ahead of him. He grins cheerfully, waving at Hyunjin. “Have fun!” he calls, vanishing back into the kitchen.

“Jinnie!” Han exclaims with a grin, throwing his hands in the air as he crosses the room. “Good to see you, my man, it’s been a while.”

“It’s been like, three days,” Hyunjin says, frowning as Han claps him on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“We thought you might like to do something with us,” Seungmin says, casually strolling over. “We were gonna play a game today.”

“A game?” Hyunjin asks. He glances between them. “Uh, okay. What kind of game?”

Seungmin waves off his question. “The rules are a little complicated, but we’ll explain as we go.”

Hyunjin pauses. “Well, I was gonna see what Felly was doing—”

“Oh, she’s in the bathroom,” Han cuts in. “I’m sure she’ll be out soon, but in the meantime, let’s start.”

“Yeah, no time to waste,” Seungmin agrees. “The sooner we start, the better.”

Hyunjin can’t help but feel corralled. But hey, it’s not like he’s got plans. Other than coming to see Felly, he doesn’t have anything else going on. And if there’s one thing he loves, it’s messing around with Seungmin. And if Han is here too, it’ll be a riot.

He shrugs. “Alright. What do we do?”

“First thing’s first,” Han begins seriously, “switch hats with me.”

Seungmin cuts him a look. Hyunjin frowns, but hands Han his hat anyway. The hat Han gives him in return is considerably more worn-out and ratty than Hyunjin’s nice one, but he’s not about to complain or ask stupid questions before they’ve even explained the rules.

“Right,” Seungmin begins thoughtfully as Han proudly affixes his new accessory, “so Jinnie, now you’re Second Hat. Han is First Hat, and I’m No Hat.”

“Bald,” Han corrects him. 

“No, I am not Bald. You only have Bald if there are four players. We have three, so I’m No Hat.” 

Hyunjin nods, trying to commit that to memory. “What do the hats mean?” he asks. 

“It affects the way the rules affect you,” Han replies. “It’s, like, your position.”

“Oh, okay.” Hyunjin wonders how complicated this game is actually going to be. He’s tempted to ask for some kind of written instructions. Seungmin’s pretty sharp, so it’s no surprise that he knows all these rules, but surely if Han can grasp this game then Hyunjin should be able to figure it out too. “How do we start?”

Seungmin glances at Han, then proceeds. “Well, we have to leave The Saloon first. And remember, you have to skip every fifth step or else you’re on Probation.”

Hyunjin blinks. “Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll just show you,” Han says, taking him by the arm and leading him out the door.

~~~

Felix peeks out the kitchen just as Han and Seungmin herd Jinnie out the front door. He frowns, turning back to Lee Know and Binnie, who are helping him set up in the kitchen.

“Should we be concerned about Jinnie?” he asks, gesturing out the kitchen door. “I mean, what exactly are Han and Seungmin planning to do?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Binnie says. “It’s a pretty low-stakes job.”

“Yeah,” Lee Know agrees. “All we asked them to do was to distract him for a while, I’m sure they can handle that without traumatizing him.”

A beat of silence passes between the three of them.

“Well, I’m gettin’ back to work,” Binnie says, heading for the door. “Let me know if you need me, Felix.”

“Me too,” Lee Know echoes, following him out.

“I will,” Felix calls back to them.

He turns to the array of ingredients laid out on the kitchen counters. Flour, sugar, eggs, way too much butter . . . and chocolate. It’s been forever since Felix has made his infamous brownies. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s made them at all since Jinnie’s shown up.

I can’t wait for him to try one, he thinks, smiling to himself.

He considered inviting Jinnie to help him bake today, but decided against it. Baking can be a long and sometimes tedious process, and Felix wants to retain the ability to cuss in frustration if he needs to without pretending to be Felly. Plus, Lee Know said that Jinnie is too distracting, and it would make Felix mess up the recipe. He can’t argue with that. The brownies are too important to take the risk.

Unfortunately, Jinnie practically lives at The Saloon during the day, which meant it’d be nearly impossible to keep him out of the kitchen while Felix was baking. Thus, a counter strategy had to be employed.

Of course, Seungmin doesn’t actually know why Jinnie needs to be distracted, since he doesn't know Felix’s secret. But he’d agreed instantly without Felix having to explain anything. He said the brownies were too important and he didn’t need a reason to mess with Jinnie all day anyway.

Felix can’t help but worry just a little bit. Whatever he and Han have planned, I hope they don’t drive Jinnie too crazy. 

~~~

Driving Jinnie crazy is Seungmin’s new favorite pastime. He’s having the time of his life. He and Han sit in the shade by someone’s front porch, watching Jinnie wander around in the street with a bandana tied over his eyes.

“Okay, good!” Han is calling. “You’re almost there, keep goin’!”

Seungmin wonders what this must look like to the neighbors.

“Are you sure?” Jinnie calls back, turning blindly toward them. “‘Cause I don’t feel like I’m any closer!”

“You’re doing great!” Seungmin chimes. “Now you spin in a circle ten times and if you’re still standing, then you’re there!”

Beside him, Han asks, “Hey, about how long does it take someone to make brownies?”

Seungmin shrugs, raising his eyebrows as he watches Jinnie spin around. “I don’t know, maybe two hours? I think it depends. Why, are you already out of ideas for this dumbass game?”

“Oh, no,” Han shakes his head, a grin spreading over his face. “Two hours sounds perfect. I’m just gettin’ started.”

Seungmin grins back. He looks out at Jinnie, who’s since stalled to a dizzied stop in the middle of the street, peeling the blindfold off his eyes and looking around in confusion. 

“Is this where I’m supposed to be?” he asks, slightly swaying.

“Yep! Nice job!” Seungmin calls. To Han, he asks, “Do you think he’s having fun?”

“Absolutely,” Han nods decisively. To Jinnie, he yells, “Now you’re off Probation and you can earn points again! Congratulations!”

Jinnie nods, still looking lost. “So who’s winning?”

Han and Seungmin exchange a glance.

“I am,” Seungmin says, “‘cause I had the No Hat advantage to start with. Are you ready for the second phase of the game?”

“Yeah,” Jinnie huffs, righting himself and walking over to them.

“What’s the second phase?” Han mutters, standing up.

Seungmin hums. “I hadn’t thought about it yet, any ideas?”

Han nods. “Just a few. Alright Jinnie,” he says as their friend approaches, “pick a number one through ninety-nine that isn’t divisible by five, three, or eight.”

~~~

White and yellow swirl together as Felix mixes the sugar, eggs, and butter. He lets himself zone out, watching as the colors slowly combine into a pale shade. This is the easy part of the baking process, and it’s also Felix’s favorite.

The dry ingredients are spread across the counter, already measured out and ready for Felix to add them. He’s got a pretty organized process to minimize the stress.

He can’t help but feel lucky that he has access to things like chocolate and cocoa, two things that many people can’t afford out here. They’re slowly becoming more popular and common, but Felix still considers it a privilege.

Thanks, Lee Know, he thinks, smiling to himself. It’s really nice of him to provide everything for Felix’s baking, even if he does get brownies out of it.

It makes Felix happy that his friends like his brownies so much. They all do so much for him that he’s glad he can give them something in return, even if it’s something as insignificant as a good dessert.

Slowly, Felix starts to add the dry ingredients into the bowl, turning the batter from pale yellow to a rich, glossy brown with the cocoa.

The first time he made brownies, a few months ago, Lee Know gave a few to Han and Felix didn’t hear the end of it for a week. It made him proud that Han liked them so much. Actually, that’s probably how the two of them became friends so quickly. As he stirs, he absently wonders when Han’s birthday is.

I hope I haven’t missed it already, he thinks. I’ll have to ask him what kind of cake he wants.

“Hey,” a voice makes Felix look up from his work. It’s Binnie, poking his head into the kitchen. “Do we have more limes somewhere?”

“Check in the storeroom,” Felix suggests.

“Oh, right.” Before he turns to leave, Binnie steps over, putting an arm around Felix as he peers into the mixing bowl. “What do we have here?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s almost ready to bake,” Felix says, “I just have to—hey!”

Binnie pokes a finger into the bowl and sticks a dollop of batter into his mouth, grinning as Felix swats at him.

“Thief!” Felix giggles. He attempts to whack him with the batter-coated spoon, but Binnie lunges out of the way, squealing. “Someone stop him, quick!”

“Ha! You’ll never catch me!” he taunts, laughing maniacally as he flees back out to the bar. He pokes his head in one last time to stick his tongue out. Felix, ready, flicks a glob of batter at him. Binnie ducks, yelping as he retreats again. “Ah! Foul play! Lee Know, help!”

The sound of his laughter lingers as he vanishes back out the door.

Felix is left alone, giggling to himself. He shakes his head and returns to his brownies with a contented sigh.

~~~

“How long do I have to stay like this?” Jinnie asks. “Not that I can’t do it, I’m just, uh, curious.” He stands on one foot, arms outstretched, teetering every few seconds when his balance falters. 

To be good sports, Han and Seungmin both did it for a while too, but Han fell over pretty quickly because he saw a bee and freaked out, and Seungmin tapped out soon after in favor of observing. Honestly, it’s impressive how long Jinnie’s been at this already.

“As long as you can,” Seungmin says. “You get extra points for every minute you outlast us.” 

Jinnie sighs, windmilling his arms to right himself. “Alright. Are you keeping time?”

“I am, don’t worry,” Han replies, winking at Seungmin (as much as a person with one eye can wink). He totally doesn’t have a watch. Seungmin has to turn away to keep a straight face.

When he does, he catches sight of Jeongin, who’s been setting up the chapel for tomorrow’s choir practice, walking to The Saloon for his lunch. 

Seungmin waves, grinning. “Jeongin, do you wanna come play with us?” he calls. “You can be Bald!”

Frowning, Jeongin holds up a questioning hand.

Han raises an eyebrow at Seungmin and tugs him down to whisper, “He’s not gonna tell Jinnie that we made all this shit up, is he?”

Oh. Hmm. Seungmin looks back at Jeongin again as he approaches. He’s definitely going to think this is stupid, but hopefully he’s disinterested enough to just ignore them instead of outright exposing their game as nonsense. Maybe Seungmin shouldn’t have called him over.

“What the Hell are you guys doing?” he asks as he walks up. “Jinnie, are you okay?”

“We’re playing—woah!” Jinnie cringes, eyes going wide as he almost falls over.

“That’s right,” Seungmin says, making very intentional eye contact with Jeongin. “We’re playing a game. The one with the hats, y’know?” He leans in to whisper through clenched teeth, “Felly is making brownies.” 

Beside him, Han nods enthusiastically, like, please play along.

“Ah,” Jeongin says plainly. He glances back at Jinnie, looking him up and down. “Yeah, I recognize this,” he lies. “My students love this game.”

Oh, thank God. Seungmin mentally breathes a sigh of relief. He’s about to nod a subtle thanks to Jeongin for playing along, but Jeongin isn’t done yet.

“Which hat are you supposed to be?” he prompts Jinnie. 

“Second.”

“Mm, nice.” Innocently, he asks, “Have you gotten to the part where you flip the coin a hundred times?”

Seungmin blinks. 

“Huh?” Jinnie flails, losing his balance and staggering back. He straightens up, wide-eyed, glancing between the three of them. “Did you say a hundred? Do I have to do that?”

“Of course,” Han pipes up with confidence, “it’s the best part of playing Second Hat.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin says, perplexed even as he feels himself smile. He can’t believe Yang Jeongin is not only playing along, but running with the joke. “I almost forgot about that, it’s the next stage of the game.” 

He meets Jeongin’s eyes, which twinkle with a well-disguised amusement. A dimple pokes through as he tries not to smile. Seungmin is astounded. Who is this mischievous troublemaker, and what has he done with the mild little church minister?

Jeongin just casually puts his hands in his pockets, saying simply, “Y’all have fun,” and turns to continue his walk to The Saloon.

“Thanks,” Seungmin replies, reaching out to poke him as he passes. Jeongin just glances back with that slight smile and carries on. For a second, Seungmin watches him go.

“Ooh,” Jinnie says, looking at him with raised eyebrows. Han is making the exact same expression right next to him.

“What?” Seungmin asks, crossing his arms.

“Nothing, just, ooooh,” Jinnie repeats, grinning.

Seungmin narrows his eyes. “Second Hat has to drop and give me twenty. It’s in the rules.”

“Ugh, never mind,” Jinnie groans. “Y’know, I bet Felly’s out of the bathroom by now.”

“Nice try,” Han laughs, smacking Jinnie on the back. “Deputy, do you have a coin?”

~~~

Felix stands at the sink, up to his elbows in hot water. He’s trying to finish washing all the dirty dishes while the pan of brownies bakes in the oven, to save time and prevent Binnie or Lee Know from having to do it later. Of course, he has to work fast. Binnie will probably drop in any second now and insist that he help Felix clean up.

He smiles to himself as he scrubs, thinking about Binnie. Things have been so much easier these last few months since he found out Felix’s secrets. As easy and comfortable as their friendship was before, it’s now relieved of all the stress of lying.

It seems like only yesterday that Han had encouraged him to be honest with Binnie, but that conversation at the boxcar was months ago already. His advice was shockingly fitting. 

But not all of my problems can be solved that way, Felix thinks. He frowns as he rinses the mixing bowls clean.

He’s still unable to relax around Chris. Or Seungmin, for that matter. If they realized Felix wasn’t Felly , there would be so many questions about why he lied and what he’s hiding. That could only lead to them discovering Felix’s real crime. It’s not a question of whether Chris and Seungmin care about him, because he’s certain that they do. But how could he put his friends in the position of choosing whether to punish him?

There’s also the question of Jinnie. Felix bites his lip as his mind crests the idea, putting down the bowl he’s drying.

Felix wishes he’d come clean about his identity a long time ago. Now it’s been months that he’s kept up this act, and there’s no way he can be honest with Jinnie without uprooting their entire friendship. Maybe that’s what Felix deserves, but he can’t bring himself to disappoint Jinnie like that.

“Hey, Brownie Boy,” a voice startles Felix out of his thoughts. He looks up to find Lee Know leaning in the doorway. “How are the brownies going?”

 “Good,” Felix says, putting on a smile. “They’re in the oven, I’m just cleaning up now.”

Lee Know frowns, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Felix replies lightly, turning to get back to work.

He pauses when he feels Lee Know’s hand on his shoulder, twisting him back around. When Felix meets his eyes, they’re intent. He already feels a soreness building in his throat.

“You looked upset,” Lee Know says. He asks again, “Are you really okay?”

Felix blinks and glances away. “Yes,” he insists, “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Jinnie,” he says simply, feeling his face twist into a frown. He can’t look at Lee Know. Something about the attention makes these emotions harder to rein in. Don’t cry, he tells himself, everything is fine, don’t cry.

Lee Know doesn’t ask any more questions. He wraps an arm around Felix and guides him into an embrace. 

That does it. Tears pool and spill over in quick succession, and Felix breathes a shaky sigh into Lee Know’s shoulder. His friend just holds him there, still and steady, letting Felix cling onto him as he quietly tries to pull himself together. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I know it must be hard.”

Felix doesn’t trust his voice enough to respond, he just shakes his head and squeezes Lee Know tighter.

They stay like that for a moment, until Felix sniffs and pries himself away, wiping his face. Lee Know hands him a clean dish rag and pushes damp strands of hair out of Felix’s eyes. It’s comforting. Parental, almost.

“Thanks,” Felix croaks. “Sorry I cried on you.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Lee Know says, patting Felix’s face with a warm hand. “I don’t mind. Do you feel better?”

Felix nods, surprised that he actually does. It wasn’t a particularly long or thorough cry, but it helped. He clears his throat and gestures to the sink beside him. “I’m gonna, um, get back to work,” he says.

Lee Know hums, rubbing Felix’s shoulder. “I’m gonna help you, then,” he says, starting to roll up his sleeves. “And all I’ll ask in return is a bigger share of the brownies.”

Felix smiles back. “I’ll give you a third of the pan,” he offers. Even in spite of the tears drying on his cheeks, he can’t help but be happy. How did he manage to find such good friends?

~~~

Han has to hand it to Seungmin. He’s really good at this whole messing-with-Jinnie thing. His plan for the last bit of this game is some top-notch ridiculousness. As a connoisseur of all things foolish and ill-advised, Han is impressed.

“Here we are, finally,” Seungmin is saying as he opens the door and holds it for Jinnie.

Jinnie doesn’t budge. “The Sheriff’s Station?”

Seungmin sighs in exasperation. “Uh, yeah, weren’t you listening? This is the last stage of the game.”

“Y’know,” Jinnie says, putting his hands on his hips, “I’m startin’ to wonder about the rules of this whole thing. I feel like y’all keep changing them all the time.”

Han rolls his eye. “Of course you’d say that. The Second Hat player always has some kind of excuse.”

“So true,” Seungmin agrees, shaking his head. “Jinnie, we thought you liked playing with us. Don’t tap out now, when we’re almost done!”

“Yeah!” Han grins, smacking Jinnie on the back and pushing him towards the door. “C’mon, you can still win if you play your cards right.”

Jinnie cuts him a suspicious look. “Fine.” He slowly steps inside. “But only ‘cause I’m a good sport and a team player. Remember that,” he says, pointing a finger at each of them. He can’t help cracking a smile, though.

“Alright,” Han prompts, following him in as Seungmin goes to rummage through Chris’s desk. “Jinnie, this part only applies to you and me.” 

He reaches into his back pocket and produces a pack of playing cards and fans them out. He’s been waiting for the perfect moment to use them.

Jinnie frowns. “Oh, there’s actual cards for this part? I thought you were just using an idiom.” Pausing, he thinks for a second. He reaches out a careful hand, hovering over the deck, as though somehow he’ll be drawn to the best possible card. That’s hilarious.

There’s quite a bit of rattling going on in the background as Seungmin finds the keys and unlocks the holding cell on the other end of the room. Jinnie doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay,” he finally decides, pulling a card from the center of the deck. He flips it over. Nine of spades.

Han whistles, making an impressed face. “Damn, Jinnie!”

“Is this good?” Jinnie asks, brows drawing together. “Please say it’s good.”

“We’re about to find out.” Han pulls himself a card, selecting one completely at random and turning it over with a flourish. Two of hearts.

Jinnie blinks, glancing up with wide eyes. “So I—does mine win? What do I win?”

Han cringes, looking up slowly. “Ooh, sorry man . . .” he starts, thinking off the top of his head, “The higher card beats the lower card, which means you get charged with manslaughter.”

Jinnie deflates, groaning. Han almost feels bad. To be fair though, Jinnie should have realized by now that he needs to ask what the rules are before he agrees to a random task. Han would still rig the games, obviously, but he’d have a much harder time getting away with it.

“So whose card won?” Seungmin asks, as if it’s even a question. Han holds up his two in reply. Seungmin tuts. “Ah, sorry Jinnie. You know the rules, get in there.” He nods to the open cell.

“Huh?” Jinnie glances between them. “Go . . . in there?” 

“It’s your penalty,” Seungmin explains. “You committed manslaughter so you get twenty years in prison. It’s really twenty minutes, for game purposes. Don’t worry, it’s not bad in there. I keep it clean.” 

“You’re kidding,” Jinnie says, taking a step back.

“We would never do that,” Han assures him, ushering him along. 

“I’m gonna be honest, I’m not convinced this is totally fair,” Jinnie complains, even as he steps into the cell. “Like, how can I be losing this badly?”

“That’s the way the cookie crumbles,” Seungmin shrugs, locking the door behind him. “Or maybe it’s the way the brownie crumbles.”

Han nods his concurrence. “Yes, very well said, Deputy. But Jinnie, I gotta admit, you’re doin’ great for a Second Hat. You might think you’re really failing here, but I’ve seen much worse.”

Jinnie perks up a little. “Really?”

“Really,” Han assures.

“Well, that’s good at least,” Jinnie says, brightening as he leans against the bars of the door. “Hey, when I get outta here, can we go back to The Saloon? I never did see Felly today, even though I told her I’d come hang out with her.”

“Of course,” Seungmin says, tucking the ring of keys into his pocket. 

“I mean, she’s probably out of the bathroom by now, right?” Jinnie asks, raising a questioning eyebrow. “How long does it usually take for girls to go to the bathroom?”

“Who’s to say?” Han replies. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin agrees, glancing casually over at Han. “I don’t know a thing about women.”

Something strange occurs to Han at that moment. Something about how Seungmin looked at him, or his tone of voice, or the particular words he chose. It’s almost unnoticeable, but the realization hits him all the same.

Oh shit, he knows, Han thinks suddenly. He knows about Felix. But how? Would Felix really have told him? Did he just figure it out on his own?

“Oh well,” Jinnie sighs, “I guess we’ll see when I’m done in here. What’re you guys gonna do in the meantime?”

“Good question,” Seungmin says. “It seems like we have a break. Han, what do you think?”

Han shoves down the weight of his new epiphany. “I don’t know,” he replies. “But I could go for a drink, to be honest.”

Seungmin snaps his fingers. “That,” he says, “is a good idea.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Jinnie asks. He glances between them. “Guys!” he protests.

“We’ll be back,” Seungmin assures him, heading for the door. “It’s just twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, we’ll bring you a drink,” Han offers, grinning over his shoulder. “‘Cause you’re a good sport and a team player.”

~~~

Felix is not surprised. He knew Han and Seungmin would drive Jinnie crazy all day, and he knew they’d probably get carried away. Still, throwing him in jail is a bit more than Felix expected. He steps up to the Sheriff’s Station, sighing as he opens the door.

“Hello?” he asks in Felly’s voice, poking his head in. “I’ve come to bring food to the prisoner.”

“Felly?” asks Jinnie’s voice, surprised. He’s lying on the floor of the holding cell, long limbs laid out like a corpse. “Is that you?”

“Are you dead?” Felix asks, smiling as he shuts the door behind him.

Jinnie sighs, groaning loudly as he sits up. “I feel a little dead, yeah.”

On the floor beside him is Han’s hat, ragged and dirty, and Felix is certain that Han is walking around town wearing Jinnie’s crisp, nice one. Of course, that’s only the beginning of the ordeals they put him through.

“Aw,” Felix says, “you poor baby. Did they torture you all day?”

“Most of it was actually pretty fun,” he admits, still sitting on the floor. “But it was so confusing. And my legs are sore already. Actually, it’s just the right one. They made me stand on one foot for like, ten minutes.”

“Like a pelican?” Felix asks, tilting his head.

Jinnie nods solemnly. “Like a pelican.”

“That’s impressive,” Felix remarks. “You could join the circus with an act like that.”

“That’s my plan, actually, since Han and Seungmin are runnin’ me out of town.” Jinnie kind of chuckles at his own joke. It’s cute. He glances back up and asks, “What’d you do all day? Or were you actually in the bathroom the whole time?”

“Oh, right!” Felix reaches into the folds of his skirt and pulls out a bundle of wax paper. “Here, I brought you a brownie,” he says, passing it down through the bars to Jinnie, who takes it with a quizzical look. “Now, let me find the key to open this cell . . .” Felix glances around.

Jinnie shakes his head. “Don’t bother, Seungmin took it with him when he left,” he says, unwrapping the brownie. “You made this?” He takes a bite. His eyes widen and he sits up straighter, immediately taking another bite.

“I did, yeah,” Felix replies, smiling modestly as pride swells in his chest. “I thought I’d save you one, since they’ll probably be gone by tomorrow.”

“Oh, wow,” Jinnie says, mouth full. “It’s really good. Thanks, Felly.” The expression on his face is so sincere and excited. He’s so good-natured, he can even be happy sitting on the floor of a jail cell. God, he’s adorable.

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you like it,” Felix says, a little sheepish. “Um, do you want me to go find Seungmin so we can get you out?”

“Nah,” Jinnie says, waving Felix over to the cell. “I’d rather you just come sit with me. I mean, if you want,” he adds quickly.

“Oh, sure,” Felix replies. He sits down next to the bars, leaning his shoulder against them as he settles his skirt around his knees.

“I have a question,” Jinnie begins, already finishing off the last bit of his brownie.

“Mmhmm?”

“Is the hat game, like, a thing around here? I’ve never heard of it before, but Han and Seungmin acted like all the rules were common knowledge. Even Jeongin knew how to play,” he says, brows furrowing.

What the Hell is he talking about? Felix smiles, confused. “The hat game?”

“Yeah,” Jinnie says, gesturing to Han’s hat next to him. “That’s the game we played all day. None of it made any sense, even at the end, so I thought everyone must know it but me.”

Aw, Jinnie . . . Felix bites his lip, glancing away from Jinnie’s questioning face. “I don’t know how to say this,” he begins, “but I think they might’ve just been messin’ with you. I’ve never heard of it before in my life.”

“Wh—” Jinnie stops, pursing his lips. He processes for a moment. “I’m gonna kill them,” he mutters, putting a hand over his eyes. 

“Oh, Jinnie,” Felix laments, covering his mouth to hide his smile. With his other hand, he reaches through the bars to touch his friend’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I’ll hide the brownies from them, how about that?”

Jinnie holds up a hand. “Don’t pity me, Felly,” he says with mock seriousness. “My pride can’t take it. I’ve been played, and by two of my own good friends, at that.”

“You have been played, sadly.” Felix rubs his shoulder supportively, nodding in agreement.

Jinnie’s eyes catch on Felix’s hand, just for a beat, before he continues, “At least I got a brownie out of it, I guess.”

“Yeah, see? Look on the bright side,” Felix says back, but he’s suddenly very aware of his hand. Should he move it? No, he always does this, with everybody, and Jinnie never seems to mind it. Right? 

“Well, anyway,” Jinnie runs a hand through his hair, which falls nicely back out of his face. He looks at Felix with tired, happy eyes, and Felix’s stomach does a little flutter. “I’m glad you had a good day. Thanks for coming to see me. Did I say that already?”

“I think so,” Felix replies, giving Jinnie’s shoulder a squeeze and standing up. “I think I should go find that key. We can talk more when you’re not in jail, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jinnie agrees. “I’ll just waste away alone until you get back. If I die in here, write to my mother for me, please. She deserves to know what happened to her son.”

“Of course, and I’ll make Han and Seungmin pay for your death,” Felix assures him, heading for the door, and they exchange one last smile. 

As Felix shuts the door behind him, the smile lingers. Felix stands outside for a second, sighing to himself. His earlier worries seem far away now.

I’m so happy he liked the brownie.

~~~

Chris always wonders if maybe they should turn the holding cell into storage space or something. It’s not like it gets used much. It just takes up space there, almost always sitting completely empty. In fact, Chris can barely remember the last time he actually saw someone in it.

Which is why he’s more than a little bit surprised when he gets back to the Station to find it occupied. Jinnie glances up when Chris opens the door, looking a bit pathetic, sitting propped against the bars. 

“Um, hi Jinnie.” Chris frowns, confused, slowly closing the door.

“Oh, hey Chris,” he drones back.

“What’re you doing in there?”

“Got arrested for manslaughter,” Jinnie shrugs. “It happens, y’know?”

“Not usually, no,” Chris replies. “At least, not around here. How long have you been in there?”

“Uh, let’s see.” Jinnie frowns, thinking. “Half an hour, maybe? You just missed Felly, she’s going to find Seungmin. He’s got the key.”

“Of course he does,” Chris sighs. “Where is he, anyway? I thought he’d be here. It is a workday, after all.”

“Oh, he was not working today, I can tell you that,” Jinnie groans as he stands up. 

“What was he doing? Should I be worried?”

“Him and Han just harassed me all day, so really nothing too unusual. What happened to your shirt?” he asks, pointing at Chris’s exposed waist.

Chris groans, tugging the ripped hem down. “Ugh, don’t even look at it! I don’t know what happened. But more importantly, you said Seungmin and Han? Together? All day?”

“Yep.”

“Were they getting along?”

“I mean, yeah. They bonded over harassing me.”

Chris makes an excited fist and squeals. “Yes! I knew they’d be friends! They just had to spend some time together, right? And get to know each other a little more. Aw,” he shakes his head, grinning. “I’m so glad. Things are on the right track.”

“They threw me in jail,” Jinnie says flatly. 

That is true. Chris tuts. “Well, progress is progress. Here, let me see if I have a copy of the key somewhere. They didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?” he asks. As good as it is that his friends are getting along, it can’t be at the expense of Jinnie.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jinnie says, waving him off. “It wasn’t that bad. But remind me not to play games with these people ever again.”

Chris smiles. “Will do, Jinnie. I’ll make sure of it.”

Chapter Text

“If you win . . .” Minho begins, idly shuffling the cards in his hands. He and Felix are setting up before the rest of the kids arrive at The Saloon. He has to strike his deal now.

“If I win, we split the pool,” Felix finishes. He’s resetting the chairs around the two tables they just put together, as Minho lays out cards and chips on top of them.

In Minho’s humble opinion, it’s blatantly unfair that a master of poker such as himself is not allowed to play. They’re just intimidated by him. Him and his prowess. It’s a good thing that he’s found a kindred soul within Felix. They wouldn’t oust sweet ol’ Felly from their game.

Minho grins, “That’s why you’re my favorite!”

Felix laughs in response, shaking his head. “I won’t be when I lose.”

Minho pauses in his shuffling to look up and stare at Felix. “Oh, trust me. I don’t have high hopes for the others.”

As he finishes speaking, the door creaks open. Felix straightens up, ready to act as Felly when their friends come in. It’s Han, peeking his head into the room, comically lowered as if he is sneaking around. Felix catches sight of him and turns to Minho with a rare smirk, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, Lee Know,” he says in Felly’s voice. “I’ve heard we have an ace in our midst. A world-renowned poker player and gunfighter.”

Han throws open the door with gusto. “You talkin’ about me? Get fucking ready! I’m crazy when it comes to poker.”

“Crazy, my ass,” Seungmin mutters, walking in behind him. “Do you even know how to count?”

“Yeah, and I can count the days you have left on one hand!” Han shoots back, eye narrowed and fists balled up menacingly.

Seungmin raises his arms in peace even as he rolls his eyes in annoyance, brushing past Han. Minho watches as Han bristles in response, thinking their entire exchange is hilarious. It reminds him almost of two cats about to fight. Cute.

“Ladies, play nice,” comes Chris as he enters The Saloon with Binnie. “We have a game to play!”

His words seem to diffuse the situation. Han and Seungmin glare at each other, but neither says or does anything in further retaliation.

They are ushered by the other two over to where Minho and Felly have set up and sat at the table. Felly pats the seat next to her and gestures to Han, beckoning him over with a sweet smile.

“I saved you a spot next to me,” Minho hears her whisper as Han sits. “I figured we could help each other out.”

Han smirks back at her in response, and Felly winks. This is all according to plan. With Han placed next to Felly, he’s the designated Small Blind, something Minho and Felix had engineered from the beginning. No reason to have Han lose any more money that he doesn’t have. Not that they’ll be able to stop him.

The rest of them find their spots around the table. The only ones left to arrive are Jinnie and Jeongin, who had disappeared upstairs a couple of hours ago with Jinnie’s watercolors and stacks of paper. He assumes it was something for Jeongin’s school, planning for the fast-approaching school year. Whatever it was, they have to be done by now.

“JEONGIN!” Minho yells entirely too loud on purpose, swinging back in his chair as he does. When he tips back on the chair so that all four legs are back on the floor, five sets of eyes blink owlishly back at him.

“What.” Seungmin pauses. “Was that.”

“That.” Binnie, from across Minho, smirks. “Was a good idea. JINNIE! MY HEART!” he shouts so loud Felly startles in her chair, laughing after she corrects herself.

Something crashes to the ground upstairs, and there are hurried footsteps, loudly stomping around, before the two remaining players come flying down the stairs. Both of them pause to catch their breath at the bottom.

“Sorry we’re late,” Jinnie huffs. “We got a bit carried away.”

Jeongin nods along, but otherwise doesn’t say anything as he pants. His shirt bears a soaking wet spot for some reason. Probably having to do with that crash a moment ago. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Chris says, waving them over. “Just sit down, and we can get started.”

Once they find their spots (Jinnie between Felly and Chris, Jeongin between him and Seungmin), Minho shuffles the cards a final time, doling out two cards to everyone once he’s finished. 

“Wait, what are we playing again?” Binnie asks, peeking at his cards in confusion. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Minho assures, uncaring. “Everyone, ante up!” 

~~~

It’s Hyunjin’s turn first. Which is not at all how he hoped this would go. He had no idea that sitting next to Felly would doom him to a situation where he had to make the first call. It’s unfair, truly. 

He peeks down at his cards. An 8 and Jack.

That isn’t so bad, right ? he thinks. It’s not good either, though. That he knows for sure.

He really only has one option. He isn’t about to chicken out from the jump. It’s not like he has to worry too much about the stakes of this game. 

He sets his cards back on the table and looks at Lee Know. “I’ll call.”

The rest of the others follow suit. All of them call. Seungmin draws another card Hyunjin doesn’t know what that’s about, but he assumes it's better not to ask. Texas poker is weird.

He notices Felly leaning over to check Han’s hand. She shakes her head and pats him on the back, whispering something in his ear that he grimaces at. Whatever that exchange means, Hyunjin smiles at seeing Felly help out her friends. She’s so kind. 

On the other hand, Binnie, beside Chris, is visibly sweating. He keeps picking up his cards and putting them back down again only to repeat the action once more. At least Hyunjin isn’t that confused. It’s cute, though, how Binnie keeps scowling at his cards like he can intimidate them into making sense. It makes Hyunjin smile.

But he shakes his head, pushing those thoughts away. He can’t be getting distracted. He has to focus.

Jeongin already looks annoyed when his turn comes, and he cuts Seungmin a dirty look before he calls.

When the round finally makes its way to Han, Hyunjin expects him to raise just for the thrill of it. But surprisingly, all he does is call.

With the round over, Lee Know burns the topmost card on the deck and then lays out the flop.

Hyunjin sighs. He kind of just wishes it would be over already.

~~~

Once the flop is laid out, Chris wiggles with excitement. He checks his cards again and compares them to the ones now on the table. 

He knew his hand was good going in. A royal marriage: King and Queen. However, with the addition of the flop, he’s doing even better. Two of the cards, the 4 and the 7, are irrelevant to him, but the 10 is nice. The 10 could mean something. 

As Chris contemplates his cards, he doesn’t even notice the wide, happy grin that spreads across his face. He’d be kicking his feet and giggling if he were any less aware. 

Still, Jinnie doesn't raise, so neither does he. Instead, Chris lets his turn pass despite the fact that his hand might be good. He could take it all the way with a potential high-level straight, but he isn't concerned with winning. Really, he’s just here to enjoy his time with his friends.

Looking around the room, it seems like everyone is having a great time. Lee Know and Felly have twin maniacal grins in their shared excitement for the game. Seungmin is laughing uproariously across the table at his growing stack of cards. The others seem, if nothing else, to be locked in on the game.

The only one he’s concerned with is Changbin.

~~~

Changbin still doesn’t understand what game they’re playing. He’s played poker before, don’t get him wrong, but this isn’t like any game he’s ever played. Why does he only have two cards? Is he supposed to keep drawing cards like Seungmin is? What do the cards on   the table mean?

Nothing makes any sense.

It's his turn in the game, but it doesn’t even register. He’s too busy comparing his cards to the ones on the table like he’s seen everyone else doing. He has a King and an Ace. He knows these are good cards in normal poker, but whatever this is is definitely not normal poker. Especially with Lee Know dealing. If Changbin knows anything, he knows that man has his hands in this game.

“—nie.” 

Someone pushes him. He still doesn't lose his focus. 

“Binnie!” Seungmin shouts directly into his ear. 

“What the—” Changbin throws his hand out to smack Seungmin away, the action also throwing his cards out in front of him. 

“It's your turn,” Seungmin nags. He looks down at Changbin's cards. “Hey, wanna switch hands?”

Changbin looks down at the small deck being offered over to him. “What? No!” 

Seungmin just shrugs, shaking his head. “Your loss.”

He narrows his eyes and yanks his cards back. He still doesn't know what the Hell is going on, but now he has to act on something. 

“You okay, bub?” Chris leans over his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, just check.” 

What a brilliant idea. Yes, Changbin is going to check. Thank you, Christopher, you beautiful man of justice. Thank goodness someone here can be trusted to play fair.

“I'll check!” he declares, hand slamming on the table as he does.

A beat of silence resonates through the room. Changbin thinks he's done something stupidly wrong. Then, all at once, everyone starts clapping. So, no he's just done something stupid. 

Great. 

~~~

The way this game is shaping up, Felix almost feels bad for cheating. He’s doing great, of course, his hand being a 9 and a Jack. With the cards on the table including an 8 and a 10, he’s already got a straight. 

Meanwhile, though, Binnie looks like he’s already given up, Jinnie is trying (and failing) not to seem confused, Chris is biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud, and for some reason Seungmin is holding more cards than the rest of them combined. Jeongin is the only person actually pulling off a poker face, though it could just be that he’s trying as hard as possible to ignore Seungmin acting up next to him. Maybe he’s praying for sanity.

Maybe we didn’t need to cheat after all, Felix thinks. This is almost too easy. 

Lee Know catches his eye as he lays down the turn, a 7. Their plan is shaping up just fine.

Felix glances at Han, whose hand is honestly garbage. Not that Han would know that anyway. He’s practically chomping at the bit to put money in the pot, even though he’s hardly got any to bet with. But he might as well have some fun.

So Felix leans over, whispering, “This is good for you, you should bet!”

Han nods subtly, a grin spreading over his face as he announces, “Y’know, I think it’s about time someone put some real money on this thing. I’m gonna bet!” 

Jeongin sighs, Seungmin laughs, and Jinnie frowns like he’s doing math in his head, which he probably is.

“Ooh,” Chris says excitedly, leaning forward in his seat. “This is gettin’ interesting!”

Felix gives a modest smile as all eyes turn to him, pretending he doesn’t know he’s going to win. “I think I’ll call,” he says, pushing in the same amount of chips.

Jinnie looks up with wide eyes, then back down at his cards. He seems to be weighing the possibility of his success. Felix knows he has a Jack and an 8, which are actually not bad considering the cards on the table, but they definitely aren’t going to win him anything in this game. 

Nudging him with his elbow, Felix smiles encouragingly. 

“Uh,” Jinnie hesitates, “I’ll call?” he says, as though it’s a question, sliding his chips into the pot. It’s getting to be a pretty good sum of money.

Felix turns his smile on Lee Know, whose eyes glint with a wicked amusement. They’ll have a good laugh about this later, Felix is sure.

~~~

Seungmin is having the time of his life. 

He watches as Chris and Binnie waffle over what decision to make. Call or fold? Call or fold? Chris folds. Binnie calls (he made the mistake of looking over at Felly’s sweet, innocent smile. An eyelash flutter, and he should have folded). 

Seungmin shuffles through his own cards, finding the perfect card to lay down. He has a bunch. Lee Know kept sliding them to him under the table. Seungmin also had no qualms leaning over to steal the burned cards after every round. It wasn’t like anyone was using them. 

“Are you gonna make a decision?” Jeongin remarks to his left, sighing. 

Seungmin hums, pausing in his shuffling. “Depends. You got any twos?” he asks, knowing full well exactly what’s in Jeongin’s hand. He punctuates the question with a wink.

Jeongin scowls. “Go fish,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. 

“Hm.” Seungmin glances back down at his hand. “What about any . . . threes?”

Jeongin turns to stare at him. Eyes wide, unblinking. “Go. Fish.”

Nodding sagely, Seungmin fans out his cards, all twenty of them, onto the table. “I think I’ll raise!”

He looks back over at Jeongin and grins, wide and happy. Jeongin, on the other hand, looks less than thrilled. Seungmin believes he still hasn’t blinked from a moment ago. He also believes he’d be dead if looks could kill. But he can push it a little further.

He leans over. It’s a risk, but this is poker after all. “Hey!” he whisper-shouts.

Jeongin ignores him, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Hey!” he says again, this time louder. “Jeongin, come on, it’s your turn.” 

~~~

“I’ll fold!” Jeongin doesn’t even look over at the deputy. He’s pissing him off. Jeongin’s done with this. 

He could’ve handled having a bad hand. It happens (how Seungmin seemed to know exactly what it was is beyond him). He could’ve handled watching Felly swindle and cheat her way to victory with the help of Lee Know’s fair and honest dealing. After all, Felly should be allowed to let loose every once in a while, as a treat.

No, that’s not the issue. What Jeongin cannot handle is the sheer ridiculousness of the man next to him. 

At first, it was funny. Lee Know and Seungmin’s not-so-secret exchange was a hilarious bit to keep track of during the game. While everyone else quietly marveled at the growing collection of cards in Seungmin’s hands, Jeongin got a front row seat to the entire trade. He watched as Seungmin would kick at Lee Know’s shin to get his attention. Lee Know would roll his eyes only to subtly remove a card from the deck and pass it under the table into Seungmin’s awaiting hands.

The hilarity of the bit was quickly undercut by the man himself after a few minutes. Seungmin, in his excitement over his joke, couldn’t seem to sit still. He kept nudging and pushing at Jeongin. Each time he turned to look at the deputy, Seungmin would have the stupidest, widest grin on his face, raising his eyebrows tauntingly. He’s screwing up what little chance Jeongin might’ve had, and he’s making sure to rub it in.

Now Jeongin is about to reach his limit. All he wanted was to move this game along, hoping he could save himself somehow. If Seungmin isn’t going to take this thing seriously, the least he could do was play his turn promptly. 

But no. Instead he just had to drag it out. He just had to keep teasing and poking at Jeongin, announcing his terrible hand to the rest of the table with the whole go fish joke. What a jackass! Jeongin had to fold, already having lost more money than it was worth.

“Aww, Jeongin!” Seungmin whines. “You don’t want to play the game anymore? Why not? Afraid you’ll lose?”

Jeongin sees red. As if compelled by God (or perhaps more likely the devil), Jeongin launches himself at Seungmin, tackling him to the ground. 

~~~

“Hey, whoa!” Han gasps, eye going wide as he watches Jeongin smack his cards down, knock his chair back, and shove Seungmin to the floor. Felly gasps and Jinnie shouts in surprise.

Immediately, Chris and Binnie are out of their seats to step in, but the sound of Seungmin’s laughter rings out, accompanied by frantic, giggling cries of protest.

“Help!” he yells from the floor, in between peals of laughter, “He—ow! Ow, Jeongin, that hurts!”

“Boys, that’s enough!” Chris warns, but he’s fighting down his own laughter.

“Stop laughing!” Jeongin exclaims, “I’m—ow! Hey!” 

What the Hell is going on? Han wonders, frowning as he watches the fight dissolve. By now, Jeongin has started laughing too as Binnie grabs him by the arms and hauls him up, though Han can’t imagine why. He looks around in bewilderment, but everyone is focused on the scuffle.

Obviously this game is not going well. Han knows absolutely nothing about poker, including what his cards even mean, but he does know that it’s his turn, and everything is going to shit. This is the time to pull out something big. 

“Alright!” he announces, standing up. “That’s enough bullshit! I’m gonna go all in!”

Everyone stops, and seven sets of eyes turn on Han, staring. Felly’s mouth drops open. Jinnie blinks in astonishment. Chris and Binnie look mystified, Jeongin looks vaguely disgusted, and even Seungmin sits up, amazed. Honestly, Han expected more excitement.

“That’s right!” he doubles down, sliding all of his remaining chips to the center. “I warned y’all, I’m crazy when it comes to poker.”

Lee Know breaks the silence. “Sounds like nobody’s playing this one,” he says, laying out the final card with a sinister smile.

It’s a Jack. Han has no idea if that’s good or bad for him. He also has no idea if he’s supposed to do anything else, but fuck it, it’s too quiet in here. Slamming his cards down on the table, he grins triumphantly.

“Oh my God,” Jinnie breathes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Han!” Chris gasps, “Are you serious!?”

It’s chaos from that moment. Everyone hollers in protest, yelling about how Han’s 7 and 2 are worthless in this game, even Lee Know is shaking his head. 

“I had a straight!” Felly wails, throwing her cards down in frustration.

“What is wrong with you?” Binnie demands, and Seungmin starts laughing again.

Jinnie springs up from his seat, flailing his long limbs, and bumps his knee on the table. “Ow!” he cries as it gets caught, wrenching the tabletop up and turning it over.

Han staggers back as a mess of cards, chips, and glasses spill onto the floor, amidst even more shouting and shoving.

“Jinnie!” Chris exclaims, throwing his hands up. “That was not very nice!”

“It was an accident!” Jinnie yells back.

Now this is the kind of excitement Han was hoping for. He glances at Lee Know, who looks utterly delighted with this turn of events.

“This is way more fun than cheating,” he says to Han over the noise. “We should do this all the time.”

Chapter Text

Minho squats down, setting the dish on the floor of the storeroom. His cats weave impatiently around his legs, each of them trying to be first in line for dinner.

“Hey now,” Minho chides them, “be polite, there’s plenty enough for all of you.”

Outside, the sun is only beginning to set. The Saloon won’t be closing for a while yet. Minho savors his few moments of peace and quiet back here, just him and the cats, before he has to get back to work. He reaches out to stroke the soft fur of Soonie’s back, then Doongie and Dori’s too.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost two years since Minho set up here at The Saloon. Within a week of his arrival, Soonie had shown up, looking skinny and neglected. Minho took him in without a second thought. He thought it’d be good to have a cat to take care of the mice in the storeroom. A few months later, the barn cat down the road had a litter and he got Doongie. And even later, he came across Dori, abandoned as a kitten, and wasn’t able to resist bringing him home.

Truthfully, his cats are an anchor to this place. Before the rest of his friends had shown up in town, before Minho had even decided to trust Chris, he’d had his cats to care for. And they’d been here through pretty much everything since.

“You three spend your whole lives here,” he says as he watches them eat. “You’ve seen it all. You must look at us and think humans are silly, huh?”

As if in response, Doongie’s tail twitches and he looks up with narrowed eyes.

“Maybe not,” Minho answers himself, smiling. “I bet y’all don’t even pay attention to us, do you? There’s better things to do, for a cat.” 

The cats don’t reply, of course. But he wonders what they’d say if they could.

~~~

Soonie is perched on the back porch rail, looking out towards the dark night sky. It’s about time to wander off, maybe to go hunting, but he hasn’t been fed dinner yet. Doongie and Dori are probably waiting around nearby too. Usually Minho, the food human, would have done it by now. He must be busy.

A few feet over on the porch steps, one of the other humans sits propped against the railing, occasionally sipping something from a glass. It’s Jeongin, one of the quiet ones who lives here. His eyes are closed, and he sits very still. 

Soonie pays attention to the humans situationally. He likes them well enough, especially when they have food. And sometimes they can be interesting. They’re so different from cats.

The door opens. Soonie glances over, hoping it’s Minho with dinner.

But it’s not. It’s a different human. Soonie recognizes him; he’s one of the loud ones. When he sees the other man sitting on the stairs, he pauses and goes still.

Jeongin opens his eyes, looking up. “Hey Chris,” he says. “Need somethin’?”

Chris smiles, relaxing. “Oh, no, I didn’t know you were out here. Were you asleep?”

Jeongin shakes his head. “No, just winding down. It’s nice to sit out here, after the sun’s gone down and it’s not so hot.”

Soonie agrees. Of course, it’d be nicer if he had a full belly. Where is Minho? 

“Mind if I join you?” Chris asks, and Jeongin waves him over. He settles himself on the next step, sighing. “I had a long day. How was yours?”

“Also long. But still good, actually,” Jeongin replies, swirling ice cubes in his glass. “We had choir practice this afternoon, after church. It went well.” 

Chris nods. “Ah, the choir’s getting good! You must be doing somethin’ right. I’m really impressed by it every Sunday.”

“Thanks,” Jeongin smiles, and it looks very natural on him. It’s the kind of natural body language that Soonie can appreciate as a cat. Jeongin should smile more. He continues, “It was a lot of work at the beginning, but it’s much better now. Things are coming together more easily. It’s satisfying to see it all take shape, y’know?”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Chris says. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. You’re a hard worker, Jeongin.”

Jeongin shrugs modestly. “I try. But it helps that we have a lot of talented people here, too,” he adds.

“Oh yeah?” Chris asks. “If you had to pick, who’s the best singer?”

Jeongin’s smile fades, turning thoughtful. “Probably Seungmin.”

“Really?” Chris grins, swatting the other man on the shoulder. “I’m surprised to hear you say it! But you’re right, he’s got such a nice voice.”

Ah, Soonie knows Seungmin. He’s lived here as long as Soonie can remember, though he isn’t around the cats very much. Like Jeongin, he’s one of the quieter ones. They’re kind of similar in some ways, actually.

“You’ve known Seungmin a long time,” Jeongin says, tilting his head. “Where’d he learn to sing? Do you even know?”

Chris shrugs, raising his eyebrows. “He probably learned when he went away to school, if I had to guess. He was, ooh . . .” Chris makes a face, “fifteen, I think? He spent a few years there, so he was probably in a choir at some point.”

“Mm. That’s how I learned to sing too,” Jeongin says. He looks down at his glass. “Why’d he come back?” he asks.

“To Jay Park?” Chris chuckles. “He didn’t wanna do what his parents wanted, that’s why. He left school and came back here even though his family had moved.”

“Huh,” Jeongin mutters, “that’s like the opposite of me.”

A minute or two of silence passes. Soonie has been listening, trying to figure out why these things matter. But really, there’s no use in trying to understand humans. There’s always so much going on with them.

“Well,” Jeongin says finally, “he’s a good addition to the church choir, so I’m glad he’s here.”

Chris smiles. “Right,” he agrees. “That’s one thing to keep him around for, I suppose. I mean, besides him being an outstanding sheriff’s deputy.”

“Of course,” Jeongin says, a grin spreading on his face again. “The best sheriff’s deputy in Jay Park. What would you do without him?”

“Ah, I’d be inconsolable,” Chris says, shaking his head fondly. 

“That seems a little dramatic.”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “You would be too, though.”

“Oh, come on.” Jeongin looks away, at something past the porch. He’s about to say something else, but he’s interrupted by the door opening again. 

Soonie looks back to find Minho, at last, coming outside with a tin plate. Soonie hops off the porch rail and hurries over, meowing his greeting. Good thing he stayed close by, so he can get there first.

“You know, we have tables and chairs inside,” Minho says, directing the comment at both men. “Although I’m sure the floorboards diggin’ into your asses are just as comfortable.”

“I wanted peace and quiet,” Jeongin says over his shoulder. “As far I know, that’s one thing you never have inside.”

“Yeah, peace and quiet, Lee Know!” Chris chimes in. 

Soonie is no longer paying attention, being far more concerned with his dinner. It’s been nice, but he’s heard enough of the humans today.

~~~

Doongie doesn’t care to pay attention to what humans do. It’s only ever by chance that they do anything close by enough for him to witness it. If he happens to listen in on a conversation or spy on an interaction, it’s purely incidental.

It's a coincidence that two of Minho’s friends happen to be sitting nearby in the middle of Doongie’s afternoon nap on the porch. It can’t be helped that he overhears.

“It’s not the nicest city ever, but I still miss it sometimes. It’s nostalgic, I guess,” says the pretty one with the long hair. Jinnie. He sits with his legs dangling off the porch, leaning back on his hands.

“Tell me more about it,” the other one replies in a high voice. That one is Felix, Doongie knows. Felix is strange. Sometimes his voice is soft and high, and other times it’s very low. Most humans’ voices don’t change like that. A cat would never be so inconsistent.

“What do you wanna know?”

Felix shrugs. “What you like about it, your favorite things, that sort of stuff.” 

Jinnie sighs, wistful. “It can be really pretty,” he says. “The architecture is interesting, it’s all very artistic. And the landscape is beautiful in some places. Like the river. I never thought the river was anything special until I came to the desert.”

“It must seem kinda crazy now,” Felix says. “When all you have is a couple of wells in a desert town, it’s hard to even imagine all that water movin’ right through your city.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Jinnie smiles. “And there’s all sorts of fishing and riverboats and stuff like that, you can just watch them pass by for hours. Man, I would love to draw those things. I wish I’d been an artist back then.” He shakes his head, clucking his tongue. “You should see it, Felly.”

“I wish I could,” Felix says quietly, watching him for a moment. He speaks again, asking, “What else do you miss?”

Jinnie hums. “Live oak trees.”

“Ah, oak trees.”

Nodding, Jinnie continues. “That’s another thing I wish I would’ve drawn before I left. They get huge, Felly, like, way bigger than any tree I’ve seen out here.” He sits up, stretching his arms out at odd angles. “And the branches go out like this, it’s like the tree grows out instead of up. Really, it’s the coolest thing! I’ve never seen anything else like it.”

Felix smiles, imitating Jinnie’s tree posture. Doongie thinks they both look stupid, but they’re having a good time, giggling at each other and swaying their arms around.

“I bet you could draw some from memory,” Felix says. “You seem to have a pretty good idea of how oak trees pose.”

Jinnie shrugs, smiling to himself. “I could,” he admits, “but it wouldn’t be the same as drawing one in person. I guess that’s where the homesickness comes in.”

“Mm. Yeah.” Felix smooths out his dress, leaning back on his hands. “I’d like it if you drew me one. Only if you feel like it,” he adds.

“I would love to,” Jinnie replies, nodding. “And I’ll paint it, too. I guess you won’t know if it’s accurate or not, since you’ve never seen the trees yourself, but I’ll try my best anyway.”

For a split second, a sad look crosses Felix’s face. Jinnie may not have noticed, since he’s just a human, but Doongie can read subtle cues like that.

“What else do you miss?” Felix asks, his voice quieter this time.

“Coffee and chicory,” Jinnie says. “They make it so strong in New Orleans, but it tastes so good. Not like that bitter, burned stuff that Chris and Lee Know always make.”

Felix chuckles. “I don’t care what you say, coffee is always bitter.”

“You don’t have to believe me, Felly,” Jinnie says, raising his eyebrows. “You asked what I miss, and that’s one of the things.”

“Fine, I’ll let it slide,” Felix replies, waving a hand. 

When he sets his hand back down, Jinnie’s eyes flick down to it. Another subtle move, as Doongie notes.

“I miss the biscuits, too, but we’ve talked about that already,” Jinnie continues casually. His hand moves a half an inch towards Felix’s. 

“Mm. You never got me your mother’s recipe,” Felix points out.

“Oh, that’s right,” Jinnie says, frowning. “I forgot to ask her for it. But I will, next time I write to her. Remind me.” His hand moves a little further.

Felix nods. “I will, but don’t bother her. I’m sure she has more important things to worry about than giving out her biscuit recipe.”

“It’s not a bother,” Jinnie says. Doongie watches him take an anticipatory breath. “I’ll ask her for you.” His hand closes the gap, fingers lightly setting atop Felix’s.

“Oh,” Felix says airily, blinking. He’s obviously trying not to look down at their hands. “Okay then. Thanks, Jinnie.” He glances away to hide a smile.

“You’re welcome,” Jinnie replies, relaxing a little bit.

In the silence that follows, Felix’s fingers curl slightly into Jinnie’s as they sit and watch the clouds drift through the afternoon sky. They seem perfectly content not to say anything more.

Doongie flicks his tail, returning to his nap. He considers all of this to be immensely silly. Humans overcomplicate everything, especially these two. It’s ridiculous. Needless to say, he’ll be keeping an eye on them. In case of more ridiculousness, of course.

~~~

Dori is getting stiff from laying under the porch too long. It’s cool and shady down there, a nice escape from the summer heat, but it’s gotten old and he needs to move onto something else. He hears two people talking up above. Maybe he can get one of them to pet him. Stretching, he squeezes out from his hiding place to hop up onto the porch.

“No, it was like, play fighting,” one of the humans is saying, “it was hilarious, trust me.” It’s Seungmin, one of the ones who lives here. He sits cross-legged against the wall, drinking from a coffee cup.

“Maybe so,” says the other one uncertainly. That one is Binnie. He leans on the porch rail while they talk. “I mean, he was laughing, yeah. But I don’t know if you’re seeing the whole situation correctly.”

“What do you mean by—oh, hi kitty,” Seungmin interrupts himself.

Happy to be noticed, Dori lifts his tail and trots over. Seungmin puts down his cup and extends a hand for him to sniff appraisingly.

“Which one is that?” Binnie asks, nodding to Dori. He really should know this by now.

“Dori,” Seungmin replies. “This one’s my favorite. He’s got the cutest face.”

“He is pretty cute,” Binnie agrees. Dori decides to cut him a little slack. “Keep him over there, though, ‘cause if he comes over here he’ll make me itch.”

“Sure,” Seungmin says. “Anyway, what were you saying?”

Binnie shrugs, pausing to collect his thoughts. “You seem happy that Jeongin is playing into your jokes a little more these days, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“What if he’s just tryin’ to get you to lay off?”

Seungmin’s hand pauses mid-pet. He frowns. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, think about it,” Binnie says, crossing his arms. “He’s got a lot going on with his different jobs, and it’s stressful for him. He doesn’t want people to think he’s not cut out for it.”

“Obviously, yeah. But he’s probably the hardest-working person in this town,” Seungmin points out. “Nobody thinks he’s not cut out for it.”

“Yeah, we know that,” Binnie says, gesturing between the two of them. “But he’s hard on himself about it.”

Seungmin nods as he runs a hand over Dori’s back. “Okay. So what does that have to do with me?”

Binnie takes a breath, tilting his head, eyes wandering like he’s trying to decide what to say. “I just mean . . . maybe sometimes your messin’ around makes him a little more stressed. Maybe you should go easy on him, y’know? Be a little nicer.”

Seungmin scoffs, but it sounds like a laugh. “Am I not nice?”

Dori thinks Seungmin is plenty nice, because he always pets the cats when they’re around and sometimes he feeds them for Minho. Plus, he just said Dori was his favorite a minute ago. That must count for something.

Cracking a smile, Binnie replies, “It’s not that you’re not nice, you’re just a pain in the ass. I know you pride yourself on that, but Jeongin might be a little sick of it.”

Seungmin’s smile falters. Absently, he rubs Dori’s face. “And he’s told you this?”

“No. It’s just a thought, that’s all,” Binnie says, but there’s hesitation in it. Maybe he’s hiding something. 

Seungmin is quiet now. He processes Binnie’s words with a confused look on his face, hands going still. Dori takes this as his cue. He wanders across the porch to Binnie, hoping to find some attention there.

“Oh, whoa,” Binnie cautions, backing up as he approaches. “No, kitty, I can’t pet you. Hey Seungmin, do your job.”

“Here, Dori,” he says, reaching his hand back out. 

Dori entertains another few steps closer to Binnie, enjoying his wary discomfort, before circling back to Seungmin.

“Binnie,” he says, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. Are you saying I should stop hangin’ out with him?”

Sighing, Binnie shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He searches for the words for a moment, like he wants to say more but can’t. “I don’t know what else to tell you. Just try to be a good friend to him, alright?”

Still frowning, Seungmin nods and says, “Okay, sure,” but he doesn’t reply any further than that. He continues to pet Dori distractedly, letting the conversation fizzle.

Dori doesn’t know what this is about, which is nothing new. Humans always have weird things going on that don’t make any sense. Still, as long as he gets fed and petted, he doesn’t mind being around them and listening to them talk. Whatever Seungmin and Binnie’s problem is, he hopes it turns out alright.

~~~

It’s almost before dawn sometimes when Minho feeds the cats their breakfast. They’re always ready and waiting, knowing Minho’s schedule even better than he does. Today he feeds them on the back porch, since Han is asleep in the storeroom. Balancing the plate on one arm and his coffee mug in the other hand, he steps out the back door.

“Good morning, good morning,” he says quietly as he closes it behind him, greeted by impatient meows. He watches his step, careful not to tread on the paws that circle around his feet. 

Setting the plate down, Minho habitually gives each of the cats a rub on the back. He stands and looks up, off the porch, as the sun slowly begins to rise.

Minho’s been a lot of places in his life. He’s seen a lot of sunrises. But ones like this, with a clear sky, a flat horizon, and the company of his cats, these are his favorites. It feels like belonging.

“We should eat breakfast out here more often,” he says, sipping his coffee. “It’s much nicer than sitting in the storeroom.”

“What’s that?” Han’s voice asks behind him as he steps out onto the porch, yawning. His hair is messy and his voice is rough with sleep.

Minho smiles, looking back at the sky. “Nothin’,” he says, “just that it’s nice to watch the sunrise out here.”

“You should see it from the boxcar,” Han says tiredly, coming to stand at his left side.

“I should,” Minho agrees. 

A few beats pass in comfortable silence, the two of them and the cats, enjoying the morning. There’s something so domestic about it. So calm. So different from Minho’s old life, and so much easier. He glances at Han, watching him for a moment. Han’s eye flicks over to him.

“What?” he asks, frowning.

“You need a haircut,” Minho says. 

Han makes a face. “I’ll cut it myself when I get around to it. I’m not gonna let some random stranger that close to my neck with a pair of scissors. Gotta be smarter than that, in my line of work.”

Minho smiles. “Right,” he complies. “All those random strangers who wanna kill you. Never trust a barber, that’s what I always say.”

“It could happen,” Han says, raising his hands defensively.

“Let Felix cut it, then,” Minho suggests. “Or me. I’d just shave your head, though.”

“I know you would. But I’ll think about it. It’s a pain to do it myself,” Han sighs.

Something brushes Minho’s ankles, and he glances down to see Soonie rubbing his face against Minho’s boots. Smiling, Minho bends down, gently scratching the soft white furs of the cat’s chin.

“You eat too fast,” he tells him. “Your stomach’s gonna hurt.”

Soonie doesn’t seem to care, purring along contentedly.

“Say,” Han prompts, “do you think the cats pay any attention to us? I mean, they hear just about everything that happens around here. They must know a lot of gossip.”

“It’s funny you say that,” Minho replies. “I was thinkin’ the same thing the other day. But they probably don’t care much about our business.” 

Soonie looks up at him, blinking his big yellow-green eyes. Almost like he’s smiling.

“I disagree. That’s the face of a cat who knows more than you do,” Han observes.

“Y’know,” Minho admits, “I think you might be right.”

Chapter Text

Chris is enjoying his morning. He got up a little earlier than usual, giving himself extra time to savor his coffee and flip through the newspaper for the first time this week. Binnie should be downstairs soon to keep him company before they both head off to work.

However, soon after Chris settles in at the kitchen table, it’s Jinnie who joins him.

“Mornin’,” Chris smiles, but Jinnie just nods soberly back as he takes a seat.

“Listen, while we have a minute . . .” he begins, “I’ve been doing some thinking.” He folds his hands on the table in front of him, “And I’ve made some decisions.”

Chris looks up from his newspaper, blinking. “Oh?” 

He’s ready for this, to some degree. He’s been wondering if Jinnie might come to him for advice, or to open up about himself a bit more. Is that what this is? Is he going to talk about his mother? Or maybe Felly or Binnie? Or it could be something else entirely.

Jinnie nods, taking a breath. “I think it’s time I do somethin’ worthwhile with myself. If I’m gonna stay in Jay Park, which I am, then I need to get a job. A real job.”

Chris blinks again. “Uhh . . .”

He tries to rein in the unease that’s definitely showing on his face. He’s not ready for this, he’s been sitting downstairs for all of five minutes, he hasn’t even finished his coffee yet—

“And I’m wondering if you’re hiring,” Jinnie concludes.

Chris’s eyes go wide. “Okay, whoa.” He puts down his paper, trying to keep his tone light. “What’re you talkin’ about? You wanna get a job, first of all?” 

Since he got here back in February, Jinnie’s been living out of his (alarmingly deep) pockets. And Chris lets him stay here for free, so he doesn’t actually spend all that much money. Which makes it even more surprising that he’s looking for work. And more than that, work at the Sheriff’s Station. Jinnie and Seungmin both in the office all day? That would be the worst case scenario.

“That’s right,” Jinnie says solemnly. “I’ve enjoyed this town so much these last several months, appreciating all the people and things going on here, and it’s time I do something to actually contribute to it.”

“Jinnie,” Chris pleads, leveling a look at him, “you really don’t have to—”

Jinnie holds up a hand to silence him. “Chris, let me do this. It’s responsible. It’s time I grow up and take some initiative.”

What am I supposed to say to that? Chris bites his lip, trying not to outright wince. On one hand, he’s proud of Jinnie for wanting to do something useful, especially considering he almost certainly comes from wealth. That shows real character! But on the other hand, the last thing he wants is for Jinnie to work in law enforcement.

“Okay,” he says, smiling hesitantly, “let’s consider a few options here.”

“Now look, I don’t have a formal résumé,” Jinnie cautions him, “but I can write somethin’ up if you need me to.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that,” Chris assures him. “What I mean, though, is that we could look at a few different possible jobs to find the best fit for you.”

“Oh,” Jinnie perks up. “Well, okay. Are you sure? Since you took me in and everything, I thought I’d offer to work for you first.”

Chris falters. Aw. That’s so sweet. 

He reaches across the table to pat his friend’s hand. “It’s absolutely fine, Jinnie. There’s not enough work in the sheriff’s office, really, and I’m sure something else in town will suit you better. I’ll help you figure it out, if you want.”

Nodding, Jinnie smiles. “I would like that.”

Stifling a sigh of relief, Chris relaxes. “Good. How about we ask around a little bit today? Maybe later this week you can give some different jobs a try.”

“That would be great,” Jinnie says, looking eager. “Thanks, Chris. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Chris replies easily.

Phew. Bullet dodged.

~~~

On Monday, Hyunjin gets up bright and early and he and Chris walk down to The General Store. It isn’t open yet, but Lee Know said it’d be better if he got there before the workday started. 

“Are you nervous?” Chris asks as they walk around to the back door. 

“A little,” Hyunjin admits. “I mean, I know it’s only Lee Know, I help him out all the time. But I guess I just wanna do my best.” After all, he’s never had an actual job before. What if he messes it up?

Chris nods, patting him on the shoulder. “Well remember, if this one doesn’t suit you, there’s always other things you can try.”

Hyunjin gives him a smile as they knock on the door.

A series of unlocking sounds click from within, and the door cracks open to reveal a sliver of Lee Know’s face, one unblinking eye trained on Hyunjin.

“Good morning,” he says ominously. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Chris stifles a sigh, but Hyunjin straightens up, ignoring his growing sense of dread, and politely replies, “Good morning.”

Lee Know opens the door normally, dropping his air of mystery. “What’s Chris doing here? Is he lookin’ for a job too?”

“I have a job,” Chris reminds him, crossing his arms. “I’m just here to support Jinnie.”

“Hm. I thought Seungmin might’ve finally staged a coup,” Lee Know says, turning to usher them inside. 

Hyunjin always finds the storeroom a little bit claustrophobic. The floor is stacked with boxes and crates, and tall shelves line the walls, crammed with all sorts of random items. Despite the few dusty windows near the ceiling, it’s dark in here.

“Alright,” Lee Know begins, surveying the space. “You’ve helped me move stuff around back here before, right? Well, I have a bunch of stuff to unpack from my trip to town on Saturday, so I’m gonna teach you my inventory system. We’ll see how much we can get done before noon.”

“Okay,” Hyunjin nods. It’s true, he’s lent a hand unloading cargo, but he usually just follows Lee Know’s directions without understanding, and he never knows what’s in the boxes. Surely, there’s some kind of method to the chaos of this room. And surely, Lee Know’s alleged illegal stuff isn’t out in the open for Hyunjin to awkwardly stumble upon. He asks, “What should I do first?”

“Take your hat off, get comfortable.” Lee Know says. He glances at Chris. “What’re you still doing here? Don’t you have crime to fight?”

Chris frowns. “I feel like you’re mocking the integrity of my work somehow,” he complains. “And what if I wanted to hang out with y’all? See what it’s like to be Lee Know for a day?”

Lee Know gives a short laugh. “You wouldn’t like it,” he says drily. “Now run along. Jinnie’s in good hands, I promise.” 

That doesn’t sound reassuring, Hyunjin thinks.

“Fine,” Chris surrenders. He points a warning finger at Lee Know one last time. “Be good,” he says. Then he gives Hyunjin a cheerful thumbs-up and waves them goodbye. 

Watching him go, Hyunjin wonders what he’s gotten himself into. 

“Let’s get started,” Lee Know says. “I’m gonna teach you my system as we unpack, so pay attention. We’ll start with those crates closest to the door.”

“What’s in them?” Hyunjin asks. 

Lee Know cuts him a look. “Boy, you’re askin’ a lot of questions already, huh?” 

Oh no. Hyunjin freezes. It’s totally illegal stuff. I don’t wanna touch illegal stuff! He’s gonna get mad at me for interfering in his shady business and I’m gonna get fired on my first day!

But Lee Know cracks a smile. “Jeez, don’t worry. It’s just dry goods. Flour and sugar.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin says, trying not to sound too relieved.

“Yep. I bought them stolen so I didn’t have to pay tax on them. Pretty cool, right?”

Hyunjin stifles a sigh. It’s gonna be a long morning.

~~~

“A job? In Jay Park?” Han asks, the way a person might ask, are you insane? To him, those questions are basically equivalent. 

Jinnie shrugs. “Yeah. I wanna have stuff to do and, like, contribute.” 

“But there’s nothin’ to contribute to,” Han points out. 

Jinnie makes a face. “Well . . . that’s true. But I still wanna do something with myself,” he says. “I’m too bored, it’s not good for me. Plus, all our friends have jobs except us. I feel a little left out, if I’m being honest.”

The two of them have spent the afternoon in The Saloon, sipping sweet tea and whining about how it’s already September and it’s still so hot outside. Han wasn’t going to come into town today, but truthfully, he really likes spending his days here. Jinnie’s right, though, all of their friends are usually working, and things are dull without them.

He nods a modest concession. “You might be right about that. There’s not much worth doing here when everyone else is busy.”

“Why don’t you get a job?” Jinnie suggests. “I mean, you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“That is not true,” Han scoffs. “I may have put my outlaw days behind me, but I’m still plenty busy with all my other extremely successful exploits.”

“Right, pardon me,” Jinnie says skeptically, leaning back in his chair. “Seriously though, have you ever had an honest job?”

Ah, here we go.

Slouching, Han sighs. “I don’t know, probably not,” he mumbles, bracing for follow-up questions. Maybe he should’ve just come up with a lie to avoid this.

But Jinnie just clicks his tongue and continues, “Well, you could always start now. It’d be good for you, too, ‘cause you actually do need money. And you’ve gotta be bored.”

Han blinks. No follow-up. Okay. Great. He nods slowly. “Yeah . . . I mean, no! I’m doing completely great, I don’t need a job. And I definitely don’t want one in Jay Park.”

“Eh, I can’t blame you for that,” Jinnie replies lazily.

Unfortunately, though, he is right. Han is kind of bored these days. Not that he was especially active in his outlaw-ing before, but now that he’s quit causing trouble and settled down a bit, he’s realized he doesn’t actually need this much free time. He doesn’t have anything to do.

Maybe a hobby would be nice, he thinks.

“Anyway,” Jinnie continues. “I’ve decided against working with Lee Know after what happened yesterday. Helping him haul boxes around is one thing, but his storage system is—” He visibly shudders. “I don’t wanna think about it.”

“Yeah,” Han cringes, seeing images of the dark labyrinth of boxes and shelves. “I’ve spent more time in that storeroom than a human being probably should. It’s not for the faint of heart.”

“I’d never realized my heart was so faint,” Jinnie says somberly, eyes going distant.

Han pats him on the arm. “Brave man. What other jobs are you gonna try out?”

“I don’t know,” Jinnie sighs. “Lee Know said I could work here for a day.” He nods to the bar behind them. “I doubt he’ll let me stay on, though, ‘cause he’s already got two employees.”

“Mm. Something tells me you’re right,” Han agrees vaguely.

In reality, with all the times Lee Know’s complained to him about Felix and Binnie being sappy and romantic on the clock, Han knows for certain that he wouldn’t add Jinnie into the mix to compound the problem. It sure would be funny, though.

“You should give it a shot anyway,” Han encourages him. “Just to see how it goes.”

“Yeah, I will,” Jinnie says decisively. “Who knows? Lee Know might keep me, and I already spend so much time here, so I know how they do things. Plus, I’ll be working with two of my best friends. It’s bound to be pretty good, right?”

~~~

“Jinnie, your left. No, your left,” Binnie directs, frowning up at Hyunjin from the floor.

Hyunjin is perched on a ladder, leaning against the tall shelves behind the bar, trying to help Binnie get down high-up bottles of some liquor or another. Honestly, he can hardly tell any of them apart from this angle. Plus, The Saloon is crowded and busy today, and all the ruckus is keeping him from concentrating.

“Wait, this one?” Hyunjin asks, feeling another bottle with his hand. “I thought you said it was a small bottle.”

“I said smaller bottle,” Binnie corrects him. “Just pass it down here. No—carefully! Don’t just drop it!”

“I’m not dropping it!” Hyunjin protests, climbing down a few steps to hand it to him. “And ‘smaller’ is subjective, you should just describe it.”

“I did describe it,” Binnie tells him, “I described it as smaller.” 

Hyunjin’s helped out with tasks like this at The Saloon before (after all, he is tall enough to reach these high shelves), but there’s so much going on in here that it’s hard to focus on what he’s doing or listen to Binnie’s directions. It’s making his head spin a little.

Felly’s voices calls, “Are y’all okay out here?” She leans out the kitchen doorway, a full tray balanced on one hand and a concerned expression directed up at Hyunjin. “Gosh, Jinnie, you sure did get taller since I saw you this morning.”

“Yeah, I’ve been drinking a lot of milk,” Hyunjin jokes, climbing back up to the top. “Binnie, remind me again what else you need from up here?”

“Hang on,” Binnie says, “What about me, Felly? You’re not gonna mention how tall I’ve gotten?” All five feet and six inches of him proudly stands up straighter, striking a pose.

Felly giggles at him before carrying on with her work, and Hyunjin snorts, fighting a laugh as he tries to focus on what he’s doing.

But Binnie, always the performer, flashes a playful grin up at Hyunjin, and oh wow. The commotion of the bar suddenly fades, because from this angle, Hyunjin is caught off guard and all he can see is the messy black curls that fall away from Binnie’s face and the teasing gleam in his eyes and the dimple that pokes through and Hyunjin’s heart skips a beat—

Which is why he isn’t paying attention when his shifting weight jostles the ladder a little off balance, jerking it to one side, nearly throwing him off as he flails to stay upright.

“Careful!” Binnie yelps as Hyunjin seizes the edge of a shelf to hang on, his hand colliding with a bottle or two that tumble to the floor, shattering.

Suspended, still half-clinging to the shelf as his feet find their place again, Hyunjin takes a hesitant breath. He’s not going to fall. He risks a glance below, where Binnie is frozen, eyes wide, hands reaching out as if he was going to catch him. The noise of the bar had died down, but only for a moment before picking back up again.

Slowly, Hyunjin peels one hand up and grabs back onto the ladder, reorienting himself and climbing cautiously down.

“Lord have mercy,” Felly breathes as she hurries over, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, uh,” Hyunjin clears this throat, looking up at his friends, who wait expectantly. He gestures to the mess of broken glass and spilled alcohol at Binnie’s feet. “I got those down for you.”

Felly puts a hand to her mouth, busting into laughter.

“Shut up!” Binnie whines as he smacks Hyunjin’s shoulder, trying not to smile. “You have to be more careful, you could’ve actually gotten hurt!”

“It was fine,” Hyunjin placates, waving a hand even as he steadies himself against the counter. “Should I go get a broom and clean this up?”

Felly shakes her head, “No, I’ll do it—”

“I’ll do it,” Binnie insists, moving past Felly, “since it was my charming sense of humor that made Jinnie fall for me in the first place.” He disappears to the back room to find the broom. 

Felly’s little hand squeezes Hyunjin’s arm as she smiles at him, picking up her tray to get back to work. “Don’t worry about it,” she tells him, “these things happen all the time.”

“Thanks,” Hyunjin replies, and he means it, but something tells him this job might not be such a good idea after all. 

It was a lot less stressful when I was just helping out for fun, he thinks. When did The Saloon become so high-stakes? 

~~~

The start of the new school year has been promising so far. Jeongin didn’t know what to expect from the first week back, preparing himself for a complete collapse of his barely-standing educational foundation. But his students have surprised him. After a few summer months of either hard work or total boredom, they actually seem glad to be back in the classroom.

And what’s even better is that Jeongin can reward that with a surprise of his own.

From the back of the room, he watches with a smile as Jinnie stands in front of the class, explaining the different art supplies they’ve just handed out. Today they’re only practicing the basics of drawing, but the students still watch attentively, itching to get to work.

“Okay, now we’ll be here to help you,” Jinnie says, wrapping up his explanation, “so let us know if you have questions!”

Jeongin catches his eye and smiles, miming a little cheer. He knows his friend put a lot of effort into preparing for this.

The two of them make their rounds through the rows of students, telling them how to hold their pencils properly, how to erase without damaging the paper, how to draw without smudging their work. To Jeongin, some of the instructions seem like common sense, but a lot of these kids have never even touched these things before.

“I think this is going well,” Jinnie whispers as he passes Jeongin. 

“I think so too,” Jeongin agrees, surveying the room. All of the students are focused and fascinated, chatting among themselves as they draw. “It’s fun to watch them figure this stuff out. They’re really enjoying it.”

“They are,” Jinnie says, smiling as he squeezes Jeongin’s shoulder. “This was a good idea, Jeongin. Thanks for putting it all together.” 

Jeongin looks away sheepishly, unable to hide his own smile. 

He and Jinnie have been planning this for a while now. They commissioned Lee Know to pick up several sets of pencils, sketching paper, and other materials. They outlined a few lessons’ worth of instructions about different mediums and techniques, and brainstormed different art projects to get the students started on. Jinnie was eager to teach them watercolors, but Jeongin couldn’t go two minutes without knocking over a jar of water, so they decided it’d be best to start simple.

Watching the class, he feels like they made the right choice. If the kids enjoy this, they’ll look forward to learning more advanced skills, trying new types of art and taking on larger projects. Hopefully it’ll keep their interest.

We should’ve tried this a long time ago, Jeongin thinks. Plus, it gives Jinnie something to do.

“Hey,” he says, poking Jinnie, “you’re hired, by the way. I’m gonna write to the diocese and tell them to add you to the payroll as a teaching assistant.”

Jinnie blinks. “Huh?”

“I mean, we won’t have art class every day, but you’d be working at least once or twice a week. If you’re not busy, that is,” he adds jokingly. He knows Jinnie doesn’t have a life.

“Wait, like a real job, though?” Jinnie asks. “I thought I was just helping you out.”

“Huh?” Jeongin grins, half-laughing. “Of course it’s a real job! But it’s fine if you wanna work for free, ‘cause then I’ll just keep your paychecks.”

“Oh,” Jinnie says simply. He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, thanks. I guess that solves that problem.”

“Problem?” Jeongin asks, tilting his head.

Jinnie raises a hand. “Wait, hold that thought, I’ll be right back,” he says, stepping away to help a student.

It’s been a long time since these kids were so engaged with something. Maybe a creative outlet was exactly what they needed. Maybe they’ll be more interested in the rest of their schoolwork too, or at least motivated to keep trying.

Jeongin stifles a sigh. He dreads the idea of things going back to the way they were last spring. More and more, his students had struggled, and he’d repeatedly failed to improve the situation. It was the most frustrating thing he’d ever dealt with. God, he really wants this to work out. 

But if it doesn’t, he reminds himself, then I’ll just have to move on.

Honestly, he’s scared to get his hopes up.

~~~

Hyunjin can’t believe he ever volunteered to work at the Sheriff’s Station. It’s actually the most boring place on the planet. He can’t imagine having to actually spend every day here. Thank goodness Chris talked him out of it when he had the chance.

He sits at Seungmin’s desk with his feet up, enjoying a break from the mind-numbing tasks he’s been doing for the last hour. Across the room, Chris chats idly from his own desk.

“It’s so nice of you to be here, Jinnie,” he’s saying, “especially since you’ve already got another job. You didn’t have to do this, y’know.”

Hyunjin stifles a sigh. “Well, it’s no big deal,” he replies. “I’m happy to do it.”

At the beginning of this whole job search, he’d offered to work here as a thank-you for everything Chris has done for him. Even though Chris had turned him down, Hyunjin felt a little bad taking another job so quickly. So he insisted that he help out, just for a day, and take care of whatever chores Chris and Seungmin didn’t have time to do themselves.

Which is a lot of cleaning and a lot of filing. Mostly on Chris’s side of the office.

“I bet you’re excited to start teaching, though,” Chris continues. “I know y’all have been preparing for a while.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin smiles. “I think more kids should get the chance to try art while they’re young. Even if they don’t stick with it, it’s good for them to have those kinds of experiences. To learn new things, and all that.”

Chris nods. “Yeah. And even if they don’t make a living out of it, a lot of them might end up like you,” he points out. 

“What do you mean?”

“Drawing to just stay sane,” Chris replies with a grin.

Hyunjin chuckles. “I wouldn’t call it ‘staying sane.’ Miracles don’t happen that easily.”

Before Chris can reply, the front door opens and Seungmin steps in, taking off his hat.

“Hey Chris—” he stops when he notices Hyunjin. “What’s he doing here?” His eyes narrow. “With his feet on my desk?”

“I’m just workin’ for the afternoon,” Hyunjin replies, not moving his feet. “Doing all the cleaning and filing you’ve been putting off. You’re welcome.”

“He’s doing a nice thing,” Chris agrees politely.

Seungmin frowns, lifting his chin. “I didn’t realize I was being replaced,” he says. He puts his hat back on. “But I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

Chris laughs. “Seungmin, no! I could never replace you, not even with Jinnie!”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin nods, “I really don’t wanna be a permanent addition here.”

Seungmin shakes his head, holding up a hand for silence. “I see how it is. Christopher, you have my two weeks’ notice. I wish you both nothing but the best, but it’s time I move onto other opportunities—”

“Noooo!” Chris is out of his chair, trapping Seungmin into a hug before he can turn to leave. “Don’t go, Minnie,” he whines, “I’d be devastated! I’d be lost without you!”

Hyunjin grins. “Yeah, Minnie, how could you? Don’t do that to him!”

Seungmin bristles, struggling against Chris’s arms. “Damn it,” he mumbles, “I hate you guys. I hope you replace me for real. I’m quitting and I’ll never see either of you again, goodbye forever.”

“Aw Minnie,” Chris giggles, “don’t be like that!”

Seungmin squirms as Chris lets him go with a final squeeze, and Hyunjin laughs as he brushes off his clothes and shoots them both a menacing look.

“I’ll see y’all in Hell,” he says, backing out the door. “Don’t come lookin’ for me.”

Chris and Hyunjin are still giggling as they watch him leave.

“Where’s he even going?” Hyunjin asks. “I mean, other than Hell.”

Chris sighs happily. “Probably to bother Jeongin. I mean, what else is there for him to do?”

~~~

For all the stress it causes him, Jeongin finds the chapel peaceful when it’s empty. When there’s no school, church service, or choir practice to keep him busy, spending time here actually clears his head a bit. Sitting in the back row, he lets his mind wander. He’s had a lot to think about the last couple of days.

“Oh honey, I’m home,” a voice announces as the door opens.

Jeongin doesn’t turn around. “Hey Seungmin,” he calls back.

“What’s up with you?” Seungmin asks, coming up to his pew. “It’s almost five. I’m surprised you’re not at the bar with a glass of moonshine.”

Jeongin shrugs. “Just wanted to sit around and think for a while. I’ll be there later, though.”

Seungmin hums. “Mind if I join you?” he asks.

Surprisingly, Jeongin feels like he wouldn’t mind the company. “Sure.”

The deputy takes a seat and lazily crosses one leg over the other, knocking Jeongin with his knee. “Somethin’ wrong?” he asks.

“Not really,” Jeongin replies, “just thinking.” His eyes roam around the room, tracing the beams of color that shine through the stained glass windows.

“How’d it go with Jinnie yesterday?” Seungmin prompts. 

“It was good,” Jeongin says. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about, actually.” Seungmin waits, listening, so he continues, “I need this year to be better than last year. I hope it will be, since I’ll have Jinnie helping, and the kids seemed really engaged with the drawing stuff yesterday.” 

“That’s good,” Seungmin notes, smiling. “I’m sure it’ll go well.”

They sit in silence for a moment, both savoring the calm atmosphere of the chapel. Jeongin’s mind turns once again to his worries about the school year. It’s like he can’t seem to shake the anxiety, and he can’t seem to decide what to do. More and more since last spring, he wonders if it’s even worth trying anymore.

“What’s the problem?” Seungmin asks, breaking the silence. When Jeongin doesn’t answer right away, he bumps him with his knee again. “Something’s bothering you,” he insists.

“There’s no problem,” Jeongin replies, feeling an odd nervous flutter in his stomach. He ignores it, continuing, “I just hope this doesn’t . . . wear off, y’know? I love my students, I want them to have a good education. I don’t know what I’ll do if things get worse again.”

“Mm.” Seungmin nods. “I don’t think you need to worry. There’s always more than one way to solve a problem. And your students love you, too. You’re gonna be fine.”

Jeongin smiles dryly. “Thanks. I wanna be optimistic, ‘cause if I don’t start making progress soon . . .” he sighs. “I was thinkin’ I might have to move back to my hometown and go back to school. Or, who knows, maybe I’ll join the seminary,” he jokes.

Instead of a wisecrack reply about him joining the priesthood or something, Jeongin is met with silence. He glances over. Seungmin stares at him, looking almost startled.

Jeongin searches his face, confused. “What?”

It seems to take him a second to find his voice. “Why . . . why would you do that?”

Jeongin frowns. “Because,” he reasons, “I don’t wanna stay here and keep doing a job I’m no good at. I’d rather make something better out of myself, y’know?”

Seungmin blinks, glancing away, still with that unsettled expression. “Moving away seems drastic,” he says quietly.

Why is this conversation so heavy all of the sudden?

“It’s just a thought,” Jeongin says, trying for a smile. “It’s not like I’ve already made plans or anything. I just wanna make sure I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing, that’s all. I wanna go where I belong.”

“But you already belong here,” Seungmin insists, turning an intent look on him.

Jeongin shifts. This is not the conversation he anticipated. What’s gotten into the deputy? Why does he sound upset? One moment he doesn’t take anything seriously, and the next he acts like Jeongin’s just done something unthinkable.

And those words, you already belong here . . .

For whatever reason, Jeongin can never say what he means when it comes to Seungmin. He opens his mouth, prepared to say how he wants to belong here and he wants to stay and he doesn’t want Seungmin to worry, but instead what comes out is: “You don’t really think that.”

Seungmin blinks, brows furrowing. “Yes I do,” he says. “I don’t think you should leave.”

Jeongin sets his jaw. “You don’t get to tell me that,” he mutters. “Not with all the shit you’ve put me through.”

“What are you talking about?”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Ever since I got here last fall, you’ve done nothing but constantly try to embarrass me or distract me. You put yourself in my way every chance you get! You’ve made it clearer than anyone that I don’t belong here, so quit actin’ like I do!”

Seungmin freezes, wide-eyed, completely dumbstruck as he takes in those words. 

There’s an awful sense of pride in shocking him like that, but it feels more like regret. Jeongin is about to check himself, to apologize or backtrack, when Seungmin speaks.

“You could’ve said something,” he says, quiet and sharp, looking away. “I’m sorry you’re so unhappy, but you never told me you felt like that. Don’t just blame this on me like I should’ve known. I was just trying to be your friend.”

Now that’s rich.

Jeongin takes a deep breath. He wanted to take back his words but now it’s too late, now all he can think about is how nervous Seungmin always makes him and how much he resents that laid-back, careless attitude and all he can do is dig his heels in further.

“I wish you would just let me be,” he snaps, rising. “Things would be so much easier if you weren’t always messing with me and making my life harder! After all of that, I probably should leave!”

Seungmin’s eyes flash. He tenses up. “Fine,” he hisses. “Maybe you should. Don’t let me get in the way of you being happy.”

“Believe me,” Jeongin swears, “I won’t.” 

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves.

What the Hell is wrong with him? 

He slams the door behind him, making a beeline for The Saloon where he can go upstairs and hide himself away and not have to think about the stupid deputy and the look in eyes and the hurt in his voice.

What the Hell is wrong with me?

Walking fast, keeping his head down, Jeongin blinks angry tears out of his eyes. So much for being optimistic.

~~~

Minho doesn’t know what the problem is, and he definitely isn’t involved in it personally, but damn if he isn’t going to meddle in it until he solves it. In a mature and responsible way, of course.

An hour ago, Jeongin came in through the back door and hurried upstairs, looking upset. Minho followed a moment later to ask if he was alright, only to have the door shut on him. He chalked it up to typical teenage angst and backed off.

But five minutes ago, Seungmin came home with a stormcloud over his head, mumbling a “mind your own business” to Minho as he dragged himself up to his room.

Clearly, something has happened. And clearly, it wasn’t good.

It’s unpleasant to see those two in distress. Jeongin has a lot on his plate these days, and Seungmin, for such an observant person, seems to be in denial of the adverse effect he can have on his friend. Minho wasn’t going to say anything unprompted, but this counts as a prompt. He’s going to poke around the situation until he figures out what went wrong, and then he’s going to stitch it back together from the background. These kids aren’t going to ruin their friendship so easily, not if he has anything to do with it.

It would be a waste to let them fight when they so obviously like each other.

Chapter Text

Chris wouldn’t call himself an insomniac per se, but he is someone who has trouble sleeping. Usually when this happens he simply gives up and stays awake, doing work or reading or anything to pass the time.

Tonight, he makes himself a warm cup of tea and lights a lamp, settling at the kitchen table to read yesterday’s newspaper.

Most of it is typical. Job postings looking for ranch hands or cowboys, reports about various crimes all over the county, ads from the larger cities nearby. There are a few interesting stories, but nothing very exciting. Overall it’s a pretty run-of-the-mill paper.

Which is why Chris almost doesn’t notice the small, innocuous column announcing a new policy from the county. They’re going to be issuing a list of bounties.

Chris does a double-take. A list of bounties?

His eyes skim over the text once, then again. Sure enough, he read it right. 

Things are shaping up in the Wild West and times are changing. To encourage more settlement and boost the economy, the county is trying to crack down on crime and raise awareness. They’ve compiled a comprehensive list of criminals in the region, detailing their names, crimes, and how much their bounties are worth. It’ll be mailed out next week.

Chris only knows one thing for certain: this is bad.

Of course he supports the growth of small towns in the West, it’s a subject near and dear to his heart! But it’s hard to be enthusiastic about vigilante justice when half of your friends may or may not be wanted by the law.

What if Changbin’s name is listed? Or Felly’s, or Lee Know’s? It’d be a long shot, but Han could be listed too. Chris has done his digging on all of them, and he knows their records aren’t exactly spotless. What if they have real money on their heads?

Re-folding the newspaper, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’ll just have to make sure he gets ahold of the list as soon as it comes in. He’ll have to make sure he hides it until he can read every name on it and figure out what to do if any of his friends are among them.

Luckily, people in Jay Park aren’t usually too concerned with crime and those types of things. Hopefully he won’t have any trouble with this.

~~~

“So . . . this is great, but what exactly am I looking at again?” Jinnie asks Seungmin, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head this way and that as he looks down at the bar.

Seungmin grins proudly. His hands rest firmly on his hips as he stands above the rest of the guys, peering down at the piece of paper he just threw at them. “It’s a list,” he says. “An entire catalog of all the criminals in our region. Isn’t it great?”

Jinnie’s and Felly’s eyes go wide as they both turn to each other in shock. Beside them, Han is practically vibrating in his seat. Seungmin watches as he makes grabby hands at Jinnie for custody over the list. Binnie is quick to attach himself to his side to read it over with him. 

Conversely, Lee Know and Jeongin seem like they could care less about whatever it is happening on this end of the bar (not that Seungmin was looking over at them anyway).

“Hey, this Changbin guy sounds a lot like you Binnie,” Jinnie is saying, having abandoned a still-shellshocked Felly in favor of looking over Han’s other shoulder at the list. “A lot like you actually . . .”

Binnie doesn’t hear him though. He’s too focused on scanning the sheet of paper to even register sound. Even the coveted sound of Jinnie’s voice goes unremarked upon, which causes the man in question to huff in annoyance.

Between them, Han groans, “How is Binnie on the list, and I’m not! What the hell! I’m the biggest outlaw in west Texas!”

Both Jinnie and Binnie shove at Han for his comment who squawks in protest, nearly tumbling off his stool. Seungmin chuckles at the display.

“Hey, have y’all seen Seungmin?” The doors are thrown open, and Chris’s voice cuts through The Saloon.

Every pair of eyes move from the sheriff’s entrance to the deputy and then back again. It doesn’t take more than a second for Chris to catch on and follow their gaze to his target.

“Seungmin!” Chris starts walking over to him. “Have you seen that thing that was on my desk? I can’t seem to find—”

Chris, unfortunately, moves his eyes from Seungmin to the bar behind him, catching a brief glimpse of “that thing” before Seungmin swiftly moves in front of him.

“I might’ve borrowed it,” he says, smiling.

 Chris frowns. “Borrowed it? I told you not to touch it.”

“Oh, is that what you said? I thought you said to touch it. My bad.” 

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. The action causes Seungmin’s grin to grow even more. So much so it hurts where it pulls at his cheeks and he has to try valiantly to hold in his laughter. 

“Hey, Lee Know,” Han calls from behind the two of them. “This guy kind of sounds like you.”

Both Seungmin and Chris look over at where Lee Know, Jeongin, and now Felly all sit. Seungmin makes the mistake of glancing at Jeongin first, and his smile drops, tensing. It isn’t like Jeongin is even looking at him. His gaze is turned towards Lee Know while he plays idly with Felly’s hair whose head rests firmly on his shoulder. Seungmin tries not to get too drawn into the scene. He tears his eyes away and instead focuses them on Lee Know.

He thinks this minor freak-out goes unnoticed. 

In the weeks since their argument, things are relatively back to normal. If, of course, you define normal as Seungmin and Jeongin avoiding each other like the plague. Every attempt at conversation between the two of them has been stilted and awkward. But, at least they have been civil. Seungmin is fine. Jeongin is fine. Everything is fine. 

So what if Seungmin can’t help that his stomach drops and his body tenses up whenever he looks at Jeongin? No one else seems to have picked up on it. At least, he hadn’t thought so.

Chris nudges him from where he has stepped up next to him. The look in his eyes alone proves Seungmin wrong. He doesn’t say anything, but Seungmin knows they’re going to talk about this later. Bummer. 

“No. Couldn’t be. I’ve never committed a crime,” Lee Know remarks, arms folded over his chest and expression perfectly blank. 

Seungmin had almost forgotten the thread of conversation he was meant to be following, caught up in all that nonsense of his feelings. He turns to look for Han’s response to Lee Know’s denial. He mirrors Lee Know’s crossed arms, but his eye narrows in suspicion. 

Before he can get a word in, however, Chris pushes past Seungmin to snatch the list of bounties out of his hands. He folds the paper up neat and tucks it into the breast pocket of his (cropped) shirt. Everyone follows the motion. The entire bar effectively silenced. 

“Alright, everyone, that’s enough of that,” he remarks. “I’ll take this back to the sheriff’s office where it belongs.”  

Chris nods to the group at large, smiling widely. He tips his hat and turns to go, pulling Seungmin by the arm as he does. Seungmin digs his heels into the floorboards, but it’s clear that Chris has every intention of marching on, undeterred, Seungmin’s added dead weight or not. 

“I’d appreciate it if you help me out a little here.”

“Appreciate my ass,” Seungmin huffs, standing up straight and walking out the door ahead of Chris. 

~~~

Felix is trying his best to keep his breakfast down. He knew something like this would happen, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. As soon as his eyes skimmed over Seungmin’s list of bounties, he regretted looking.

Maybe he should’ve just made some excuse and left the room right then, but he had to know for sure what this would mean for him. 

And sure enough, his name was on it.

Somehow he managed not to spiral. He pried himself away to go sit with Lee Know and Jeongin, quietly wondering what the fuck he’s going to do now. He pretended not to notice the concerned look Lee Know gave him, acting as nonchalant as possible until everyone finally dispersed and he could disappear back into the kitchen.

Letting the door swing shut behind him, Felix lets out a shaky breath. He shouldn’t be so upset by this. He’s known, ever since he started running, that this would catch up with him.

I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. 

Obviously, no one would know Felix’s real name except for a handful of his friends. He’s trusted them to keep his secret, and he can’t imagine they would turn him in. But Chris and Seungmin . . . if they connected the dots somehow, if they had just a little more information to work with . . . 

I should get out of here while I have the chance, Felix thinks. I should save them the trouble. 

And it’s not just about his friends discovering him. If people come after his bounty, there’s no telling who might get caught in the crossfire. Leaving would be the safest option. For him and his friends both.

But that thought makes his stomach start churning again. Bracing himself on the kitchen counter, Felix takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to act rashly. If he starts running again, with no plan or destination, he could get himself into even worse trouble.

Okay, he decides. I’ll give it a few days. I’ll figure something out. And then I’ll go.

He tries his best not to think about everything, and everyone, he’ll be leaving behind.

~~~

For someone who always tries so hard not to ask questions, Changbin sure does have a lot of them. After this morning, he’s not sure he can ignore them anymore. When it happens that he and Lee Know are both getting something in the storeroom at the same time, he sees his opportunity.

“Hey,” he says, catching Lee Know’s wrist, “I wanna talk to you.” 

Lee Know raises an eyebrow. “That’s new. Is this a love confession?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “For real,” he says, lowering his voice. He glances at the doorway, but he doesn’t think anyone is close enough to overhear. “Did you see that list at all?”

Lee Know shakes his head. “I didn’t feel like gettin’ up to come look at it, and then Chris took it. So, no. Why?” 

Changbin fights the urge to sigh in exasperation. “Y’know, it wouldn’t kill you to take an interest in what’s going on around you. What if you miss something important?” 

“Don’t be silly. What’s got everybody so worked up over these bounties, anyway?” Lee Know asks. “This is the West, it’s full of criminals. Why do you care so much?”

Changbin hesitates. As soon as he saw the list, he immediately combed through it, hoping it would tell him something, anything. He’s been in Jay Park for almost a year, but that doesn’t mean he’s given up his search.

“I was just lookin’ for someone,” he says vaguely, “but I didn’t find him.”

“That’s mysterious,” Lee Know observes.

“That’s not what I’m here to talk about,” Changbin says, getting back to the matter at hand. He plows on, explaining, “I saw Felix’s name on the list. The description matched him, too. He’s wanted. For killing someone.” 

Lee Know blinks, nodding slowly. “Mmhmm,” he drawls. “And?”

Changbin scoffs. “What do you mean, and? Why on Earth would Felix be wanted for murder? How could that be right?”

A frown of realization forms on Lee Know’s face. “Ah,” he says. “I think we’re on two different pages here. You’d better talk to Felix about that.”

What am I missing? Changbin wonders. He should definitely talk to Felix, because clearly he’s misunderstood something. There was that time, all those months ago, that Felly drunkenly talked about killing someone, but Changbin always assumed that was figurative. Wasn’t it? 

“Anyway,” Lee Know interrupts his thoughts, “it sounds to me like you should worry about yourself. I heard your name get thrown around quite a bit, Binnie.” 

“Shut up,” Changbin mumbles, swatting at him. “I’m not a criminal. Unlike you,” he adds. “Aren’t you worried about your name being on there, Mr. Smuggler Supreme?”

Lee Know just shrugs and turns to leave, unconcerned.

What the Hell is wrong with that man? Changbin wonders, watching him go. The longer he spends in this town, the more he thinks he might be the only sane person in it.

~~~

“Now, I’m not gonna twist your arm . . .” Chris begins, closing the door behind him when they arrive at the Sheriff’s Station. He gives Seungmin an expectant look, watching him bristle under the scrutiny.

“Consider it twisted,” he mumbles, hanging up his hat.

“Really, though,” Chris assures him, “if you don’t wanna talk about it, I’ll leave you alone. But whatever it is, it's obviously bothering you.” Seungmin isn’t the most forthcoming, so Chris wants to give him a little bit of wiggle room, just in case. 

“It’s fine,” Seungmin replies glumly as he sits down on top of his desk. He stretches his legs out, sighing. “I’m sure you have questions, so. Ask away.”

Beside him, Chris leans against the desk, wondering how to frame this conversation. He decides to take the simple approach. “What's the matter with you and Jeongin?”

“We got into a fight. We’ve barely talked since,” Seungmin answers, not looking up.

“How’d it happen?”

Another sigh. “He said he was thinking about moving away. Back to his hometown.”

Oh. Chris nods, feeling himself frown. It’s not exactly surprising, but Jeongin’s never suggested that before, at least not in any serious context. He tries to ignore the concern that rises in his own mind in favor of focusing on Seungmin. It probably caught him completely off guard, he thinks.

“So, then what?” he prompts.

“I was surprised,” Seungmin says. “It made me upset. I told him he shouldn’t leave, and he got mad at me.”

“He got mad at you for wanting him to stay?” Chris asks, raising an eyebrow. That doesn’t entirely make sense, but clearly there were some heightened emotions at play.

Seungmin takes a moment, the way he always does when he’s serious, sifting through his thoughts until he strings something together. Compared to The Saloon, the silence of the office is palpable. Like it’s anticipating his response. 

“He said . . .” He trails off, abandoning that sentence. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet and restrained. “I think he hates me,” he says. “I think I might be the reason he wants to leave.”

Chris won’t let that go any further. “Seungmin,” he interjects, “I know you’re upset, but I need you to realize that that’s probably not true.”

Seungmin shakes his head, looking back at the floor. “You weren’t there,” he says. “He said . . .” He trails off again, and Chris sets a hand on his shoulder.

“Look,” he begins, “I don’t have to know exactly what happened. Sometimes people say things they don’t mean. I know that Jeongin is your friend, and I know he cares about you.” He ignores the doubtful look that Seungmin gives him. “I think there’s probably been some misplaced anger, and I think you should talk to him about it.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Seungmin mutters, crossing his arms. “He’s made it pretty obvious that he doesn’t wanna talk.”

Chris pats his shoulder. “You’re right, Minnie, ignoring each other forever seems to make you both very happy. You should stick with that instead.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “I get it. I just don’t know what I’d even say to him.”

Of course, Chris recognizes the weight of the situation. You don’t spend a year becoming friends with a person, constantly trying to make them laugh, showing up to support them and be involved in their life, without getting seriously attached. And they also live together. It has to be impossible for Seungmin to adjust to avoiding Jeongin, incessantly reminded of the conflict.

But despite the stakes, Chris can’t press this issue too hard. That’ll only make Seungmin feel worse.

So he shrugs and casually offers, “Just be honest. Tell him you’re sorry if you’re sorry, tell him you miss him if you miss him.”

Seungmin scowls. “Ugh,” he says, “I am not telling him I miss him.”

“No, of course not,” Chris cracks a smile. “That’d be ridiculous, forget I said anything.”

“I will.” A beat of silence passes while Seungmin ruminates over their conversation. “You really think he doesn’t hate me?” he asks.

“He doesn’t,” Chris says firmly. “I can tell you that for certain.”

Seungmin doesn’t look totally convinced, but he nods, humming.

Watching him, Chris feels a sort of pride. What happened to that snarky little kid who moved to Jay Park all those years ago? he wonders. Sometimes it seems like Seungmin’s hardly changed at all, but right now he seems so grown up. So thoughtful. Chris smiles.

“What?” Seungmin asks, brows knitting. 

“Nothing,” Chris says innocently. “Just, when did you get so old?” He reaches out to pinch Seungmin’s cheek, laughing as he makes a face. 

“Bold words from you, old man,” Seungmin says, swatting Chris’s hand away and standing. “Now can we get to work? We’ve got all those criminals to crack down on.”

“Ah, right,” Chris sighs. “I’m glad you’re loving your job so much lately, deputy. That’s really great timing.”

Seungmin shrugs. “What can I say? I’m dedicated.”

Before he has to get back to work and figure out what to do about that list, Chris allows himself another second to think about Seungmin and Jeongin’s problem. For some reason, he’s inclined to be optimistic.

They’re gonna be fine, he thinks. Eventually. I hope. 

~~~

The Saloon, as this place is so aptly named, is almost closed. The windows outside have darkened considerably and almost all of the townspeople have gone home. All except a few. A few who seem to bleed familiarity into the place. 

However, he, a stranger, is sheltered from this familiarity. From his seat in the back of the establishment, tucked away at a table in some long-forgotten corner, he’s witnessed all of the hullabaloo of the day's events, all of the drama and fanfare fit for some dime novel. All of this at a distance. He has simply been watching and waiting. 

This ought to be worth the money , he thinks, sneering into his empty whiskey glass. He has much better things to do than whatever job his boss has taken for them, but it isn’t like he has much say in the matter. 

“Oh, honey. Is your glass empty? Would you like me to get you another?” a high voice trills above him, sweet and sugary. 

The man turns toward it, taking a good look at the barmaid he has seen come and go all day. His sneer is now gone and is instead a smirk. 

“Why, young lady,” he says cooly, “I was just about to go.”

She smiles brightly and wishes him well, as the stranger makes his way to the porch. 

Once there, he pauses for a moment, taking the time to reach into his coat pocket for a picture he was told to keep. He looks. It’s just as he thought. Folding the photo back into his pocket, he huffs with pride. 

This certainly ought to be worth the money.

Chapter Text

Han hefts the crate he’s just packed, carrying it to the door. He sets it down and huffs, standing up straight. Glancing around the storeroom, he thinks he got everything he came for. Lee Know’s been busy in the kitchen, so Han had to find what he needed on his own. It was more work than he expected, what with the sadistic way things are organized in here.

After all that, Han decides he’s earned a break. He slides down to sit against the wall, rubbing his face with a sigh. It’s already late afternoon, and he’s been tired ever since this morning.

Lately he’s been having odd dreams. The details always dissipate as soon as he wakes up, leaving him with confused, melancholy feelings. Try as he might, he can never get back to sleep afterward. Plus, the first cold snap of October has arrived, and Han couldn’t seem to keep warm in his mound of blankets last night. He woke up shivering before the sun had even risen. 

I’ve gotta do something about this living arrangement, he thinks. It’s always either an oven or an icebox. 

The boxcar serves its purpose. It’s independent, it’s out-of-the-way, and nobody bothers Han there. It’s safe. But on the other hand, the more time he spends in town, the more he realizes he hates going home. Even right now, he knows he’s stalling.

Closing his eye, he tries to think about something else. 

Ever since yesterday, he’s been curious about that list of bounties Seungmin showed up with. Not the list itself, though. After all the excitement and chatter died down, Han found himself curious about bounty hunting. He meant to ask Chris some questions about it, but he hadn’t gotten the chance.

If he could do something like bounty hunting, it would help him get out more often. He’d have something to do. And he’d be making money. Maybe he’d find a better place for himself.

But then again, it would mean going places he’s never been. Surrounding himself with strangers. Walking straight into the unknown.

Han shakes his head, trying to scatter those worries. He doesn’t remember if he’s ever had a better place to live than the boxcar. He probably hasn’t. But that doesn’t mean he won’t get one, eventually.

Be optimistic, he reminds himself.

He glances at the door, wondering if he should get up and drag himself home. But he’s tired, and the boxcar sucks. The storeroom isn’t exactly the height of luxury, but it’s better than that.

As he’s debating whether or not to get up and get going, Han’s eye closes on its own, and he drifts off to sleep.

~~~

Today has passed unbearably slowly. Felix hoped for a busy day to distract him from his worries, but he wasn’t lucky enough to have one. Since yesterday when he saw the list of wanted criminals, he’s been unable to stop dwelling on it.

Now, as afternoon evolves into evening, The Saloon is empty. So empty that even Lee Know stepped out to run errands. Felix wipes down tables, the mindless action giving him far too much freedom to focus on his problems.

He still hasn’t come to any conclusions about leaving. All day, watching his friends filter in and out of the bar, he’s found it harder and harder to stomach the idea of disappearing.

“Felix?” From across the room, Binnie’s voice cuts like a knife through his anxious thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Felix glances up. With no one around, he speaks in his natural voice, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Binnie raises an eyebrow as he leaves his chores behind to come closer.

Clearing his throat, Felix tries to look like someone whose stomach isn’t in dreadful knots. “I’m fine,” he says, “it’s just been a long day, that’s all.”

Binnie’s mouth works into a frown as he leans on the table Felix is cleaning. “Don’t do that,” he says gently. “Be honest with me, please.”

Felix takes a breath in, feeling his resolve waver. He always does this to me. 

“I have a lot on my mind,” he admits. “I’ve been worried all day. But it’s not your problem, everything’s fine,” he insists.

Binnie nods, a serious look veiling his expression. He catches Felix’s hand in his own before he can turn and get back to work. “Wait,” he says, “can I ask you something?”

Fuck. “Sure.” Anticipation layers over growing anxiety. Felix ignores the way his pulse spikes.

“Was that you, on the wanted list?” Binnie asks, his eyes searching.

Of course he would want to know. Why wouldn’t he? Felix nods, his mouth tightening into a thin line. He doesn’t trust his voice enough to reply verbally, and he doesn’t know what he would even say.

But there’s no judgment on Binnie’s face, it’s just calm curiosity. “So that means you killed someone,” he concludes. “Is that right?”

Felix swallows, nodding again. He knows he should explain, so he pushes through. 

“I thought I told you when I was drunk,” he starts, “but I wasn’t sure if I remembered it right. And I know it's bad that I’m wanted, I've already decided I should leave before it becomes a problem—”

“Whoa, stop, it’s alright, Felix,” Binnie interjects, squeezing his hand. He frowns. “Don't even think about leaving over something like that. That's not how we do things here.” He holds up a hand before Felix can respond, shaking his head. “I'm serious, I'm not gonna let you do that. And you did tell me about it, I just thought you were being metaphorical at the time.”

Felix blinks, the knot in his stomach loosening. “Metaphorical?”

Binnie shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, at first I thought you were just talkin’ nonsense because you were drunk, but then when I found out you weren’t really a woman I thought you meant that you had killed the man you used to be, y’know, figuratively speaking—”

Felix snorts a laugh before he can hold it in. “Sorry,” he blurts, putting his other hand over his mouth. “That’s ridiculous, Binnie.”

A grin spreads on Binnie’s face as he sees Felix’s smile. “Come on,” he argues, “I was being profound! It’s not that crazy of a conclusion—”

“Yes it is! You didn’t have to think that hard about it, you goose!” Felix is suddenly lightheaded with relief, his anxiety thawing. He reins in his giddiness and forces himself to be serious. “But really, it’s true. I’ve been wanted for a long time now. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it sooner.”

Binnie shakes his head, his grin fading. “Don’t apologize,” he says, “I never told you I was wanted, either. Although, to be fair, I don’t quite consider myself a criminal.”

Felix frowns, wondering if it’s really okay to talk about this. He’s always been so careful not to ask questions, but here they are. It’s nerve-wracking to put this out in the open, but it feels better than keeping everything in.

So he quietly prompts, “What are you wanted for? Can I ask you that?”

“Gunfighting,” Binnie answers, straightforward and plain. At Felix’s questioning look, he continues, “I’ve been lookin’ for this one guy for a long time. A bandit who killed someone close to me. I went through tons of bounties, causing all kinds of trouble trying to find him.”

Nodding, Felix imagines pieces fitting together in his mind. It's sad, but it makes a lot of sense considering what he knows about Binnie. “So that is how you got shot?”

“Well, not exactly. But don't worry about that,” Binnie replies with a smile, reaching up to rub at his shoulder out of habit. His other hand still encloses Felix’s. It’s warm. Reassuring. 

He always fucking does this to me.

For months now, it seems like they’ve been opening up little by little, trading secrets back and forth. It’s natural, unavoidable. Felix should’ve known, just like every time before, that he could be honest with Binnie. All it takes is the slightest tug, and everything unravels so easily.

Unspeaking, he takes Binnie’s hand in both of his, pressing them tightly. Binnie glances questioningly up at him, dark eyes shadowed by his curls, just as sweet and sincere as always. He watches, not interfering, as Felix reaches up and carefully pushes a lock of hair out of his view. His fingers, almost against his will, stall as they brush the smooth skin of Binnie’s face.

Felix’s heart feels tight in his chest, but he swallows his nerves and manages to speak. “Thank you,” he says, almost whispering, “for being so lovely.”

Binnie’s eyes widen slightly as Felix leans forward to place a hesitant kiss on his cheek. He blinks, opening his mouth as if to speak, but says nothing.

“Sorry,” Felix breathes, taking a step back, feeling the rush in his veins. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He’ll just turn away, go back to his work, it’ll be fine—

“Wait, Felix,” Binnie clasps his hand tighter, tugging him back. His expression is intent, his voice hushed. “Give me a real one,” he says.

Felix draws a shaky breath. His head swims, but he keeps his balance, reaching out again, feeling Binnie’s thumb trace over his hand as Felix touches his face. He leans in again, and this time softly presses his mouth against Binnie’s.

His lips are exactly as soft as they look, and Felix lingers for a moment, absorbed by the feeling of it. Heat blooms on his face as he pulls away, exhaling. I can’t believe I did that.

“Was that okay?” Binnie asks quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind Felix’s ear.

Felix nods, about to meet his gaze, when something catches his attention outside on the porch.

A pair of eyes, wide with shock, stare back at through the window. Too late, Felix registers what’s just happened. It’s Jinnie. He backs up, flustered, turning away from the door he was about to walk in through, and rushes to leave.

Felix’s stomach flips, his own eyes widening. “Oh no,” he gasps, “Jinnie.”

Binnie twists around, realizing what Felix just saw, and curses under his breath.

“Oh fuck,” Felix repeats, putting a hand to his face. “Oh, that’s not good. He looked so upset, Binnie, I can’t believe he saw that, I—”

“Hey,” Binnie says, putting a hand on Felix’s shoulder as he stands up, “calm down, it’s gonna be fine.”

“Oh my God, what did we do?” All of the anxiety from earlier sets back in even stronger, fueled by embarrassment and panic. What if Jinnie is angry? What is he thinking now? Is he going to hate Felix? “We have to talk to him, we should hurry—”

“Hey!” Binnie repeats, insistent this time. “Everything’s gonna be okay, Felix. Look at me. We need to give him a minute, okay? He’s probably freaked out, and he’ll need a little bit of time to calm down. And so do you,” he adds.

Right. That’s right. Felix nods uncertainly, taking a deep breath. “Okay. What if he’s angry?”

“He won’t be angry,” Binnie says, looking at the spot where Jinnie just was. “We just need to give him some space right now. I’m gonna talk to him when I get home tonight, I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

Felix needs to sit down. He’s gone through too many feelings in the last ten minutes.

“Are you okay?” Binnie asks, rubbing Felix’s shoulder. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Felly. Here, let’s get you upstairs. I think you’re done for the day.”

“That might be a good idea,” Felix agrees shakily. As Binnie guides him to the stairs, he risks one glance back at the door, still picturing Jinnie’s startled face.

What kind of mess did I just make?

~~~

Changbin stands outside the attic door with his hands on his hips. He’s been here for a few seconds now, contemplating whether or not to knock. He thinks of himself as a direct, forthright person, but even he can’t deny that there’s something uniquely uncomfortable about this situation.

Jinnie’s not a child, he reminds himself. He can handle a little embarrassment. 

And Changbin knows things will only get worse if they ignore everything. So he lifts his hand and knocks on the door.

A beat passes before Jinnie’s voice answers, “Yes?”

“It’s me,” Changbin says, shifting his weight. “Do you wanna talk?”

“Uh . . .” There’s a few muffled footsteps, and then Jinnie opens the door. He looks alright, if not a bit tired. But he avoids looking at Changbin as he clears his throat. “I don’t need to talk, but thanks. Is there anything else?”

Changbin blinks. That’s it?

“Well,” he starts, “I wanted to check on you, that’s all. Make sure we’re okay.”

Jinnie smiles, definitely forced, and nods. “I’m good,” he says, his tone light and clipped. “I’m sorry about what happened, I didn’t mean to, um, see anything. Sorry.” 

“No, that’s not it, I just didn’t want you to think—”

“It’s fine,” Jinnie insists, waving a hand to cut him off, “please don’t worry about it. Is that all?”

This is not how Changbin hoped the conversation would go, but it seems like he can’t push it in any other direction right now. He can only hope that Jinnie will be less avoidant about this later.

So he lets it go. “Yeah, I guess that’s all,” he concedes, “if you’re sure you’re alright.”

“Yep, all good. Thanks for checking,” Jinnie replies, already closing the door. “Goodnight, Binnie.”

“Night,” Changbin says to the door, turning to head down to his own bedroom.

This outcome shouldn’t be surprising, knowing how unsure of himself Jinnie seems when it comes to Felix, and sometimes to Changbin too. Of course he’d think he’s made some kind of misstep, and of course he’d be reticent about his feelings. But things wouldn’t be so bad if he’d just talk about it.

Changbin sighs. This should not be this complicated.

~~~

This is silly, Felix thinks, pulling his coat tighter around himself. Maybe I should turn around. 

But at this point, he’s more than halfway to the boxcar and it’d be a waste to turn around just because he’s cold. 

Hopefully Han won’t mind him dropping by even though it’s so late. He would’ve waited till morning, but he was sick of trying to fall asleep. His mind was wide awake, still untangling the big knot of feelings about everything that happened earlier. Felix has had more than enough time to think, and now he needs someone to talk to. Or rather, someone to listen, and Han makes a good confidant.

So here he is, marching past the city limits at after nine o’clock in his nightgown and a coat, hoping his lantern doesn’t burn out before he gets there. 

But luckily, he thinks he can see the boxcar from here. He picks up his pace. 

Although . . . he squints. Is that the boxcar? It’s dark, but even in the moonlight something about the silhouette doesn’t look quite right. Felix chalks it up to the bad light.

At least the walk has given him time to get his thoughts in order. Most of his thoughts are an exhausting cycle of giddiness over kissing Binnie and dread over screwing up his entire relationship with Jinnie, but somehow he’s come up with a coherent explanation to give to Han.

Getting closer, Felix can tell there’s definitely something else out there by the boxcar. He can’t tell what, exactly, but it might be a wagon. But why would it be out here, not in town? In the middle of the night?

This is weird, Felix thinks, slowing down. I should turn around. 

He starts to go back the way he came, walking faster. Whatever is going on, it’s giving Felix the creeps. He was already unsettled, and he doesn’t need this right now. Trying to calm his nerves, he glances back one last time.

And sees a man. Or, the vague shape of a man. Felix freezes. The man does not. He’s climbing off the wagon, starting in Felix’s direction—

Felix can feel his heart beating faster. He doesn’t care who this person is or why he’s here, he just knows he’ll feel much safer back in his bedroom with the lights on. He turns, ready to run, but one thing stops him. Where is Han? Is he okay? 

For a split second he’s torn, about to go back again, but he hears footsteps in the dirt behind him. 

He whirls around to see another man, lunging to grab at him. Felix ducks and lets out a gasp, staggering back and dropping his lantern.

Okay, that’s enough. He regains his balance and starts to run, darting out of the man’s reach once again.

“Hey, hurry up!” the man calls. “She’s quick!” 

She?

Felix ignores that, letting his adrenaline take over and propel him back towards town. But his stupid nightgown catches around his legs. He scrambles to hike it up and that instant is all it takes for him to lose his advantage.

“Now!” one of the men shouts. 

A rope nearly snags him, and he staggers, twisting out of its grasp. He grits his teeth. Oh, fuck. These are cowboys. 

He frantically presses on, but the second rope doesn’t miss.

Felix hits the dirt with a grunt as the noose snares around his arms. He struggles, trying to pull himself upright against the rope’s leverage, but a pair of hands hold him down and yank his arms behind his back to be tied.

“No need to worry, little lady,” says one of the men, bending down into Felix’s line of sight. He smiles drily. “We’ll make this nice and easy.”

Felix’s eyes go wide. The man from The Saloon.

What the fuck is going on? 

~~~

It’s late when Han wakes up. His eye opens to darkness and he wonders for a moment where he is. Sitting up on the hard floor, he winces at the stiffness in his back. 

Oh right, the storeroom. Han sighs, rubbing his face. What time is it? 

It takes him another moment to get to his feet. His legs are half numb from sitting in the same position for so long. How long exactly, though, he doesn’t know. He frowns. When did he even fall asleep? 

Han’s brain finally starts to shake off the daze of sleep and he remembers coming in earlier to pack a crate of supplies. That feels like forever ago. Somehow, in spite of all the sleep, he feels worn out. He considers just staying here for the rest of the night, but there’s really no point. And being here when morning arrives, having to be around other people, it suddenly seems exhausting.

So, picking up his crate, Han leaves and heads back to the boxcar.

He can’t tell how late it is, but it sure is dark. And getting chilly, too. Han tries to walk quickly in the hopes that it’ll keep him warm.

As he walks, he tries to remember what he dreamt about. He slept for hours, he must have dreamed something. And he’s got that weird, fuzzy feeling again. Was it something about a person? Or maybe a place? There’s some kind of nostalgia to it, but nothing concrete enough to even take a guess.

Passing the city limits, Han gives up dissecting the fragments in his mind. It’ll only end in frustration. Instead, he ignores his own imagination and forces all of his attention ahead.

Which is why he takes notice of the orange glow that flickers in and out of view.

Is that a person? Han thinks, squinting. It looks like it might be. Drawing closer, his eyes adjust to the faint light and he concludes that it’s definitely a person. It looks like a woman in a long dress . . . Oh, it’s Felix. 

Han is about to call out something like what are you doing out here when the lantern light flashes abruptly, and he realizes Felix is running. And then a man’s voice shouts. And then another.

Han drops the crate. He feels his body move before his mind even tells it to, rushing forward as he sees Felix’s hazy silhouette get dragged to the ground.

“Hey!” Han shouts, but his voice wavers and gets carried off by the wind. He’s still too far. He reaches to his hip, but with a start he realizes that he doesn’t have his holster. It’s on the floor of the storeroom where he left it. Oh no.

One of the men picks up Felix like he weighs nothing, and Han’s eye widens when he makes out the wagon they’re carrying him to. Oh shit. 

He spurs himself faster, but the men are in a hurry and the wagon is already moving. Han is going to get left in the dust.

But that can’t stop him. Felix needs help. Someone has to do something. Han is the only person who just saw what happened, and he’s the only one who’s here, and he has to follow them.

So even as the men whip their horses up to speed, Han tails them, determined to trace their tracks until he can catch up.

And he nearly does. 

But hours later, he’s freezing to the bone and certain that he’s lost, and Han knows there’s no way he’ll find them. The most he can do is try to figure out how to get back to town by morning. He forces himself not to think. If he does, he’ll only think the worst.

Just hang on, Felix. 

~~~

“You’re up early,” Chris says, passing Hyunjin a cup of coffee. “Is it a special occasion?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Hyunjin mumbles, accepting the cup. It is early, barely after dawn, but Hyunjin was sick of tossing and turning, trying and failing to force yesterday’s embarrassment out of his mind. 

Chris nods sympathetically. “Well since you’re up, would you run to The General Store for me in a bit? I was gonna ask Binnie, but—”

“Ask me what?” comes Binnie’s voice as he enters the kitchen.

Hyunjin busies himself by studying his coffee. Maybe he should’ve waited to come down until after Binnie left for work. Not that he’s avoiding him, but things still feel awfully weird. He’ll just have to bite the bullet and wait for this awkward phase to pass, and then they’ll all move on as normal. Whatever “normal” means now.

Chris keeps talking, pulling Hyunjin out of his preoccupied thoughts. “I just need Jinnie to do an errand for me, since you’ll be at work,” he says.

Binnie’s response is cut off by a noise at the front door. There’s a rattling sound, then a knock. Then a second, more frantic knock.

Chris raises a curious eyebrow, and Binnie frowns, going to check it.

“Who would that be, this early?” Chris wonders aloud. He glances at Hyunjin. “Hey, are you alright? You look a little, I don’t know, brooding?”

“I’m fine,” Hyunjin replies, sipping his coffee. He really doesn’t want to explain.

It sounds like it was Han at the door. From the front of the house, his voice chatters on about something inaudible. Binnie’s voice cuts in, louder, and Hyunjin wonders what could be worth arguing about this early in the morning.

“Chris!” Binnie calls. “Come in here!”

Chris exchanges a look with Hyunjin. Sighing, he drags himself up to see what all the commotion is about. Hyunjin hesitates for a moment, but ultimately decides to join. He follows Chris to the front door, taking in the scene before him.

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you!” Han is saying. He looks more distressed than Hyunjin’s ever seen him, wide-eyed and gesturing emphatically. Binnie seems more confused than anything, trying to get a word in.

“What’s goin’ on?” Chris asks, stepping in. “Han, what’s the problem?”

“He’s—I mean—” Han sputters for a second, glancing between Chris and Hyunjin, before exclaiming, “Felly got kidnapped!”

Whoa, what? Hyunjin frowns, taking a step back. “What’d you just say?”

“What are you talking about?” Chris asks, his expression growing serious. “Wait, explain from the beginning. What happened?”

Han takes a deep breath, his eye squeezing shut. “It was last night. I was walkin’ to the boxcar, and I was far away but I could see, there were two men, and—”

“Wait,” Binnie interrupts, “why was she out there so late?”

“I think she was going to see me,” Han says, “but I wasn’t there, and I never got to talk to her. But I saw them, they chased her down, and they had a wagon—”

“Han,” Chris puts a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. His tone is urgent. “Are you absolutely sure she was kidnapped? That’s what you saw?”

Han nods earnestly, eyebrows knit and mouth twisted into a frown. He looks like he’s about to cry. “I’m sure, I swear,” he says, almost pleading.

It’s then that Hyunjin realizes this is serious. Someone took Felly. She went out to see Han, and she never came back. Felly is missing. Oh God.  

“Wait, wait,” Binnie interjects again, “why didn’t you come get us last night? What the Hell happened?”

“I followed them.” Han bites his lip. “I’m sorry. I thought I could figure out where they were going. But . . . I got lost,” he says, voice breaking on the last word. 

Hyunjin swallows, feeling his stomach churn. What do they do now?

“You did what?” Binnie grabs him by the arm, raising his voice. “Han, are you insane? Why would you try to do something like that by yourself?”

“He’s right,” Chris agrees, “what if something had happened to you, too? We’d have no idea where either of you were, and then—” he cuts himself off. “Han, how long ago was that?”

“I don’t know,” Han admits, voice still shaking, “I didn’t know what time it was, but it was late. The middle of the night. I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Oh my God,” Binnie groans, pulling his hand off Han’s arm. He turns away, rubbing his face. “Han, that’s why you come get us! What were you thinking, wasting time like that? Now they’ve got a head start!”

“Binnie, please,” Chris says, putting a hand between them. “Han, I need you to tell me everything. Every single detail you remember.”

Hyunjin can’t concentrate on what he’s hearing. As if on its own, his voice asks, “Is there anything we can do?”

Chris looks over at him, as if remembering he’s there. “Of course,” he says, reaching to touch Hyunjin’s shoulder. “Calm down, Jinnie, we’ll figure this out. But we need more information, and then we need to make a plan. Han, start talking.”

Turning away, Hyunjin slips out of the room. He can’t handle everyone talking over each other and cutting each other off, it’s making everything worse.

He steadies himself against the wall, his brain pushing through everything he just heard. Felly went out to see Han in the middle of the night. Two men caught her and took her. In a wagon. Hours ago. How can we figure out where they went? 

Underneath that, though, his mind is still hung up on how Felly went out to see Han in the middle of the night. She was upset, she had to be.

Hyunjin remembers the look on her face yesterday when he’d accidentally seen her and Binnie kissing. He couldn’t stop replaying it in his mind after it happened. She was shocked, and she was embarrassed and anxious, and it was Hyunjin’s fault. 

It’s no wonder she was so upset yesterday. For months he’s been trying to get close to Felly, inching his way in, thinking it was okay. But obviously she’s in love with Binnie, and she must’ve been terrified of having to let Hyunjin down. Why didn’t he see what a problem he was creating? What a bad situation he put them in? If he’d just realized it sooner . . .

He takes a deep, shaking breath, running a hand through his hair. This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for me.

~~~

It’s not long before Minho gets the news. Chris comes to see him personally, dragging Han behind him, and gives him the summary. Minho listens carefully, watching Han try to keep it together from the corner of his eye. He seems to be taking this pretty hard.

When Chris has told him everything, Minho only asks, “What do I need to do?”

“For now, keep an eye on him,” Chris sighs, gesturing at Han. “Binnie was about to kill him, so I think it’s best to keep them apart for now. Could you get Seungmin and send him to the office?”

Minho agrees, and Chris heads out.

Turning to Han, Minho says, “I’ll be right back. You should sit down.”

Han just nods, saying nothing.

Upstairs, he finds Seungmin already about to leave, and simply tells him that something is wrong and he needs to go see Chris. Seungmin, to his credit, doesn't waste time asking what happened. He just goes.

Jeongin, also about to leave for work, stops Minho in the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes following Seungmin as he disappears down the stairs.

“Don’t worry about it right now,” Minho says. “Go to school. We’ll talk when you get home.”

Frowning, Jeongin moves to block Minho’s way. “I’m not a little kid,” he insists. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Minho stifles a sigh. He doesn’t feel like arguing. “Something bad happened and Felly is missing. Chris is figuring out what to do.”

The stubborn look drops away, replaced by startled concern. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Now go to school and we’ll talk when you get home. There’s nothing you can do by worrying about it right now.”

Jeongin nods, looking troubled, but he does as Minho tells him.

Ugh, he thinks, rubbing his eyes. If everyone could just cooperate for one day, that would be great. 

It’s not like Minho’s not upset too. But he’s been in a crisis or two before, and he knows the best thing to do right now is keep a level head and make a plan. He ignores the tension in his gut and goes back downstairs.

Han stands exactly where Minho left him, uncomfortably still except for his wringing hands.

“Okay,” Minho exhales, “now that that’s done, are you alright?”

Blinking a watery eye at him, Han shakes his head. “I really messed up,” he says, his voice weak.

The stress that’s built up in Minho’s mind slackens, pushed aside by some kind of sympathy. He steps forward, reaching out, and immediately Han clings on, wrapping trembling arms around Minho’s torso and hanging on tight. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Minho’s shoulder.

“It’ll be okay,” Minho replies, smoothing a hand over Han’s back. He’s not actually sure about that, but he isn’t sure what else to say. It’s true that Han made the wrong choice, it’s true that he did something stupid, but he already knows that. Minho’s not trying to make him feel worse.

“They’re really mad at me,” Han whispers. His hands curl into the fabric of Minho’s shirt, his breath hitching.

He’s crying. Minho’s eyes widen. He squeezes a little tighter, rubbing Han’s back, hoping he’s doing the right thing. It’s simple when Felix cries, but this feels different. He wonders if he should give some kind of advice, but what can he say that would make this better?

So he just lets himself be an anchor, holding Han up while he falls apart.

A few minutes must pass like that, but Minho isn’t really keeping track. It seems like the tears are drying up, but Han’s breathing is still panicked and shaky.

“Here,” Minho says, prying away enough to make Han sit down. “You need to breathe,” he says. He waits, keeping a hand on Han’s shoulder, taking deep breaths for him to mimic. “Just breathe,” he repeats. “Focus on what’s in front of you.”

Eventually, Han starts to slow down, the nervous energy beginning to dissipate. His fingers clutch at Minho’s free hand, which he offers readily. Half-dried tears streak down his face, and Minho is surprised to see that some spill from beneath the eyepatch.

You can cry from a missing eye? he wonders absently. Is it uncomfortable?  

But obviously, he doesn’t ask that. He reaches out to push damp bangs out of Han’s face and pats him on the cheek. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says, more sure of it this time. “They’re scared, and they’re upset, but they won’t be mad at you forever.”

Han nods, blinking dazedly, leaning into the touch. 

Minho pulls him closer again, letting Han rest his head against his shoulder. There’s something strangely alarming about seeing him cry. There’s always seemed to be a lot going on under the surface when it comes to Han, but seeing it overflow like this isn’t something Minho was prepared for.

As he settles down, Minho leaves him for a moment to get him a glass of water. His mind returns to Felix. Of all things to happen . . . but again, Minho’s been through his share of crises. Nothing is foregone, and this is the West. 

Hang on, Felix, he thinks. We’ll figure something out.

~~~

Hyunjin feels sick as he climbs the steps of the Sheriff’s Station, hands clutching an envelope. This is good, he tries to tell himself, this means everything will be okay. Felly’s gonna be fine. 

But it also means that everything is his fault.

“Chris,” he calls as he walks in. “I have something.”

From his desk, Chris looks up, his hair messy and his eyes tired. Seungmin is leaning over his shoulder as they pour over something, probably some kind of search plan. Hyunjin feels more than a twinge of guilt seeing how tense they are.

“What?” Chris asks. His voice is strained.

Hyunjin can’t explain it himself. He drops the envelope onto the desk. “Read that,” he says.

“From your mother?” Chris frowns, unfolding the letter. His eyes start to skim over it.

Hyunjin closes his eyes, waiting for the inevitable volley of questions. 

By some miracle, when the mail came in today, Hyunjin got a letter from his mother. He almost didn’t open it, too preoccupied with the situation at hand, but for whatever reason he decided to read it anyway. And thank God he did.

He read it again and again, making sure he wasn’t making it all up. By now he’s practically got it committed to memory.

October 4th, 1897

My dear boy,

I hope you get this letter in time to do something. I’m so sorry for what I’ve been keeping from you, but I have to tell you everything now. 

Your father is not well. It’s been months since he first got sick, and he hasn’t been able to run the company for quite some time. His shareholders have lost patience. They demanded he pass on ownership to someone else, but he refuses to give it to anyone but you. He also knows you would never do what he’s asking without some kind of threat.

He’s hired people to force you to come back. I begged him not to take such a drastic measure, but he was blinded by his own anger. 

I’ve tried so hard to keep your secrets. I never told them where you were, but they knew I was hiding something. They found my letters and they found out where you are, and they know about Felly, the girl you’ve told me all about. They have her picture. They think that if they can take her, it’ll make you comply with their demands.

I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for letting this happen. I can’t do anything but pray you’ll be able to stop this.

With regret,

Mama

In almost every way, it makes things better. Now they know where these men came from, what they want, and that they don’t want to hurt Felly.

But in every way it means that Hyunjin caused this situation in the first place.

“Oh,” Chris breathes. He glances up at Seungmin, who takes the letter to read for himself. “Jinnie, when did you get this?”

“Just now, but it’s dated from last week,” he replies. “I came here as soon as I read it.”

“God, this is a relief.” Chris runs a hand through his hair.

“Jinnie, do you know these people?” Seungmin asks, frowning.

Hyunjin shakes his head. “I doubt it. It sounds like they’re just shady guys my dad hired, which I guess is worse.”

“Maybe,” Seungmin says uncertainly, “but this is stuff we can actually work with. Based on what Han told us—”

“We can make an actual plan,” Chris confirms. He gives Hyunjin a pointed look. “All things considered, this is good,” he says.

Hyunjin nods, because he knows that’s true. But it doesn’t ease the guilt that’s firmly settled itself in his mind. Chris and Seungmin haven’t said it, but Hyunjin knows he’ll have to do whatever those men ask him to. If that means going home, taking on everything he’s been avoiding for the last year, then that’s what he has to do. Things would’ve been better off if he’d left a long time ago.

Or maybe things would’ve been better off if he’d never come here in the first place.

~~~

Thankfully it’s still daylight by the time they’re ready to leave. Chris has had one Hell of a day, but it’s not over yet.

All of his friends stand gathered around in the Sheriff’s Station. Lee Know listens closely, keeping a wary eye on a hangdog-looking Han. Seungmin is quiet and impatient, Binnie is cold and standoffish, and Jeongin is tacitly nervous. More than any of them, Chris is worried about Jinnie, who looks more withdrawn and dejected than Chris has ever seen him.

They’ve discussed the logistics of their plan. It’s not necessarily the most detailed plan, considering now it mostly hinges on actually being able to find these people, but nevertheless there were details to hammer out.

“There will be no arguments,” Chris warns, “and no negotiations. I’ve already made up my mind. The roster is as follows.” He pauses for emphasis. “Jinnie, obviously, for reasons that don’t need to be reviewed.”

Jinnie nods somberly, gaze fixed on the floor.

Chris continues, “Binnie, also, because he has experience in tracking people down. And because he insisted quite firmly.”

Binnie doesn’t show any sort of response. He’s been stewing all day, but he’d better get over it soon. Because if he doesn’t, Chris’s final pick for the search and rescue party is going to make things uncomfortably tense.

“Lastly,” he says, “Han.”

Binnie’s head snaps up. “What? You can’t be—”

“No arguments and no negotiations,” Chris reaffirms, crossing his arms. “Han saw more than any of us did, and he deserves a chance to, y’know, make up for earlier.”

Han just blinks at him, surprised. “Thanks,” he mutters.

Chris nods, ignoring the glare that Binnie is currently directing at him. “Any further questions?”

Lee Know and Seungmin both raise their hands.

“Me first,” Lee Know says, “you’re not bringing me? For what reason exactly?”

This was a point of contention in Chris’s mind. Obviously Lee Know is a highly capable individual, and he can hold his own in a bad situation. As unpredictable as this situation is, Chris did think he would be a good addition. But . . . 

“I need you here,” he replies. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on this town. Preferably someone I can trust. Plus, you’re a fixture of the economy around here.”

Lee Know narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“Yeah, I have the same question,” Seungmin cuts in. “You want me to stay here?”

Chris smiles wryly. “We can’t have the sheriff and the sheriff’s deputy both gone at the same time. I need you here, too.”

“I don’t wanna stay here,” Seungmin protests, staring him down.

“And I don’t wanna argue or negotiate,” Chris says curtly, glancing at the rest of them in turn. “Anybody else have a problem with the roster?” His eyes land on Jeongin, who’s been awfully quiet.

He raises an eyebrow in reply. “Don’t look at me,” he mumbles, “I’ve got nothing to offer the outfit unless you need a priest.”

Finally, some cooperation. “Well, good.” Chris claps his hands together. “Those who made the cut, go get your shit together and meet back here at five o’clock. Pack light. I don’t intend on being gone long. And deputy,” he adds, “I wanna talk to you. Everyone else, break camp.”

The others clear out, and Seungmin stays behind, looking exasperated already.

“What’s the problem, boss?” he asks, sighing.

“I wanna ask you a favor,” Chris says. “You’ll get something out of it, I promise.”

“And what’s that?”

“Have you and Jeongin talked yet?” 

Seungmin’s eyes flick up to his with a dry look. “What do you think?” He frowns. “Is this favor gonna have something to do with that?”

Chris holds up a defensive hand. “It’s not that. I wanted to offer you to stay at my house while we’re gone. I thought it’d be good for you to have a little space, don’t you think?” He knows that’s the reason why Seungmin wanted to join the expedition anyway. He’s been walking on eggshells at The Saloon for exhaustingly long now.

Seungmin considers that for a moment. “It might be,” he concedes. “What do I have to do in return?”

“Clean out my storage room,” Chris says. “You know the one down the hall from Binnie’s room? I want it empty.”

“So you want me to stay in your house in exchange for throwing out all your shit?”

“Exactly.” Chris allows himself a small smile. It’s been a long day, he thinks he’s earned this little victory. “I’m gonna do some redecorating when we get back.”

Seungmin hums. “You seem pretty confident about this whole situation,” he observes.

“I am,” Chris says, and he actually does mean it. “I don’t think there’s anything in the world that could keep our friends from getting Felly back.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you.” Seungmin pauses for a moment. “Be careful, though. I don’t wanna live in your house forever, but I’ll feel obligated if you die.”

A smile spreads on Chris’s face, probably his first real smile since yesterday. “I’ll be fine,” he assures. “As long as you give me a hug for good luck.”

Seungmin grimaces. “Ooh, sorry. You’ll have to take your life into your own hands, then.” But he doesn’t resist when Chris throws an arm around his shoulders and gives him a squeeze. 

“We’ll be alright, Minnie,” he says. “You just take care of things on the homefront.”

Of course, there’s no telling what tomorrow will bring.

Chapter Text

Felix is well and truly fucked. 

Once the metaphorical dust settles and he is awake and aware enough to take stock of his surroundings, it’s dark. Felix can only assume it’s dark again and not the same darkness he was taken in. It certainly feels as though a substantial amount of time has passed though he has no idea about just how long it has been. 

Mercifully, only his hands and feet are tied, which Felix counts as a win because he’s currently facing a considerable amount of loss (what with being kidnapped and all). They have him leaned up against some unloaded box at the edge of their camp, clearly in view of where everyone sits for dinner. It is not quite comfortable, but it’s not the worst. Though smelling the food and not being able to eat it is some sort of torture for sure. 

Felix closes his eyes, leaning back with a sigh as he tries to process everything that has happened in the past day or so.

1. He and Binnie kissed. For real. On the mouth (Good).
2. Jinnie saw them kissing and ran away upset (Bad).
3. He was kidnapped in his pajamas in the middle of the night (Really Bad). 

It is not looking good all things considered. Felix sighs again, deeper, hoping that the deeper the sigh the less likely he is to burst into tears with everything going on.

Surely, the guys will come for me. Right? he thinks. Surely, someone at The Saloon will notice I’m missing. Lee Know. Binnie. Someone.

Thinking that opens a whole new can of worms. As much as he wants to be saved, as much as he craves it, he doesn’t really deserve it. Does he? 

This has all been a long time coming. Felix knew this was going to happen eventually. He was bound to get caught. No amount of hiding away from his crimes, no amount of settling into a home was going to prevent his going away. 

One thing he can’t wrap his mind around was why they called him a woman earlier. It might have just been an accident, a heat of the moment thing. Still, it’s strange. If they are cashing in on his bounty, wouldn’t they know? 

Felix wiggles so that he can sit up against the crates, pitching himself forward a bit in the hopes that he can overhear whatever his captors are saying. Maybe he can glean some information. 

“A strange little lady to be sure,” one of the men closets is saying, muffled by a mouth full of food. “Though I can see why Rich Boy is so into her. She is mighty fine on the eyes.” 

Though Felix can’t see from where he is sitting, he can hear the leering in his voice, and it makes him shudder. So, they think he’s a woman. Genuinely. This doesn’t have anything to do with the bounty at all. 

“I swear I’ve seen her face somewheres,” says another. 

The first man barks a laugh. “In your dreams maybe. HA!” 

The other man just hums, turning so he can look at Felix. He narrows his eyes, and Felix feels his stomach drop. “Maybe,” he says. “Maybe.”

~~~

One bad thing about a long ride on horseback is that it’s giving Changbin a lot of time to stew. After leaving Jay Park yesterday evening, they’d traveled a few hours and then stopped to rest until morning. Now they’re on the move again, but Changbin just wants everything to be over already. He’s tired, he’s worried about Felix, and he’s pissed about all of it. 

His brain keeps repeating that they’re moving too slow, and they need to be sure they’re picking up the right trail, and they have to get there before anything else happens to Felix. It’s the only thing he can think about.

Well, almost the only thing. A little ways ahead, Jinnie’s hardly spoken a word since they left town. He was barely speaking to Changbin before all of this happened, and now . . . he’s definitely not dealing with this well. It’s concerning. 

Abruptly, Changbin’s horse jerks to the side as Han’s horse brushes too close, startling him out of his thoughts. He tightens his grip on the reins and straightens himself out.

“Sorry,” Han says through gritted teeth, “that was an accident.” He struggles to steer his horse back on track.

Changbin shoots him a glare. Another reason why we shouldn’t have brought him. He’s a shitty rider.

“Hey Chris,” he calls ahead. “Would you tell Han to get his horse under control? Or better yet, just put him on a lead?”

From the front of the pack, Chris glances back at them with a wary expression. “Relax, Binnie,” he calls back, making Changbin prickle. “Come up here, Han. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

“Right. Sorry,” Han repeats, digging his heels in and leaving Changbin behind.

Alone again, Changbin huffs a sigh. Han shouldn’t be here. He’s only going to get in the way—as if he hasn’t done enough damage already. And Jinnie’s scarcely holding it together, but he won’t talk to Changbin at all, which only makes him tenser. And Chris is acting like everything’s fine and under control, which is driving Changbin insane. 

Nothing matters until we get Felix back. We have to get him back. 

It’s supposed to be a consolation that the guys who kidnapped Felix aren’t interested in hurting him, just in using him as a bargaining chip with Jinnie. But nothing is guaranteed, and Changbin’s not taking any risks. He can’t rest until Felix is back home safe. He will not lose another person he cares about.

~~~

Covering the work of two employees at The Saloon should mean that Minho is keeping himself busy—and he is busier than normal, sort of. But somehow, in spite of the extra work, he’s bored. And it’s only been a day.

A few regular customers still come in. There’s a stranger or two who pass through, not staying long. But it’s not the same. His entire staff and half of his usual patrons are gone. 

When Jeongin comes in for his lunch break, Minho finds himself desperate for a conversation or a joke or something. 

“How’s it goin’?” he asks as Jeongin takes a seat, abandoning his chores behind the bar to pour him a drink.

Jeongin doesn’t look up from his plate. “Fine. How’re you?”

“Also fine,” Minho replies. “Do anything fun at school today?”

Jeongin sighs, tension starting to chip his otherwise stony expression. “Well, my whole fun department consists of Jinnie, who may or may not ever be coming back. So, no.” He says the words lightly, but he doesn’t quite make eye contact.

Minho frowns. Jeongin has been sticking to his normal routine, working a lot, and not going out of his way to talk much, but Minho realizes he’s a lot more worried than he’s been letting on. He tries to think of something reassuring to say that isn’t too overbearing. He decides to take the candid route.

“You know they’re gonna be fine,” he says plainly. “Those guys can’t force Jinnie to do anything. Our friends are a force to be reckoned with. And Felly can take care of herself, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I believe it,” Jeongin mutters, a hint of a smile peeking through. “I know they’ll be okay. I mean, I’m still worried, but Chris is with them. He’ll take care of it.”

“Right,” Minho nods, slightly surprised at his optimism. “So relax. Don’t start moping until after Jinnie’s gone forever. For now, he’s only gone temporarily.”

Jeongin hums, lapsing into momentary silence. He doesn’t seem completely at ease, but he doesn’t say anything else about it. Instead, he changes the subject. “You seem bored,” he says.

“I am bored,” Minho agrees. “You’re the first person all day who’s told me about your problems. It’s like there’s a complaint-shaped hole in my life.”

“I didn’t even tell you about my problems,” Jeongin objects, “you just offered me unsolicited advice.” 

Minho scoffs, insulted. Is this what Binnie has to deal with all the time? 

“It was completely solicited,” he argues, crossing his arms. “You had a look on your face like you were worried, so I felt within my rights to say something about it. Is that not part of my duty as bartender?”

Jeongin just blinks at him drily. “Not really, no.”

Well, fine. Minho doesn’t need this backtalk. He turns the tables and changes the subject again, asking innocently, “Have you seen Seungmin today? It sure is weird to have him out of the house, isn’t it?”

Jeongin’s eyes narrow in distaste. “Lee Know, I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: get off my ass.” 

“I’m not anywhere near your ass,” Minho defends, cracking a smile. “But—” 

“No, save it,” Jeongin cuts him off, downing the rest of his drink. “I’ve gotta get back to school anyway. Thanks for lunch.” 

Watching him leave, Minho sighs. There goes his most interesting customer of the day, probably. But that customer does live here, so at least he’ll be back later and Minho can find something else to bug him about. Although, it sure is interesting that he’s still so determined to avoid questions about Seungmin, almost a month into their stalemate.

Minho needs to get his mind off of whatever might be happening with Felix and the others, and he also needs something to do while they’re all gone.

So this seems like the perfect time to start meddling in Seungmin and Jeongin’s business. 

~~~

“I knew I recognized you!” 

Felix wakes with a start. His eyes blink to adjust to the light, and the first thing he sees when they are able to focus is his wanted poster 3 inches from his face. Shit. Fuck. 

“You’re no woman, are you!?” 

Felix has to rip his gaze away from his image to look at the man holding it up. He is sneering, mean and ugly. It makes Felix instinctively draw back, though there isn't much room to go anywhere. 

“What?” he forces out, voice still small, still using Felly’s voice even if there is no real point to it anymore. 

Somehow the man thrusts the poster closer. “You heard me!” he snaps. 

All the commotion has drawn a crowd. The entire camp is up and surrounding them, mumbling to each other and staring at Felix with a mixture of confusion and anger. 

He panics. With so much going on, his life is at stake. Felix opens his mouth and just starts talking. Anything to get them off his scent. 

“What really is a woman? When we think about it, what defines womanhood as separate from manhood? Other than distinctions we make as a society. We uphold the gender binary in order to protect the fragile systems we have in place of oppressing both women and men. It is a never ending cycle that perpetuates itself. 

“No one really stops to think about how we are all humans, striving to live and breathe and love. Nothing prevents someone, anyone, from being a man or a woman. Nothing. Because gender is so defined by the traditions and behaviors we enact in our day-to-day lives. It is up to the individual to choose what they present themselves as. Gender is not innate to humanity like we think it is. Our identity is a choice we make everyday. No one can say I am not a woman but myself because it is up to me to decide. As I exist, I am nothing. Humanity is by nature androgynous. Though some may be born with different parts, our physiological makeup once again points to the individual and not the collective. How our bodies are shaped are unique to us. Everyone is different. I mean, look at my freckles! How we are shaped does not inform how we choose to identify unless we make it so in a deliberate way. Otherwise, it remains neutral, as it is simply a state of being we are born into. 

“I believe that—” Suddenly, he’s cut off by the butt of someone's gun making  deliberate contact with his head. Felix hadn’t even seen it coming with all his word vomit. Before he even has the chance to finish, he’s knocked out cold. 

~~~

It’s a testament to how tired he is that Changbin was able to sleep. The pace they’ve been moving at is exhausting. When dusk fell and Chris suggested they should stop to rest, he didn’t waste time arguing. Now, as Chris prods him awake to take his turn on watch, Changbin pulls himself back to the present.

“Did you sleep?” Chris asks, whispering so he doesn’t disturb Han or Jinnie, both sleeping on the other side of their campfire.

Changbin sits up stiffly, mumbling, “Yeah, a bit.” The world around them is shadowed in darkness, the night washed out by the fire’s glow.

“Good,” Chris says. “The horses have been grazing and you’ll have to check on them soon.”

“I’ll just do it now,” Changbin replies, about to climb to his feet, but Chris’s hand on his arm stops him.

“Wait a minute,” he says, still whispering, “I wanna talk to you.”

Oh, here we go. Changbin sucks in a breath, about to remind Chris again that he doesn’t want to talk, but Chris cuts him off.

“I didn’t say I want you to talk, I just want you to listen.” He pauses, eyes pointedly meeting Changbin’s. “You need to take a step back. You’ve been on the warpath since yesterday morning. God, that feels like ages ago already.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. With a twinge of guilt, Changbin thinks how tired Chris must be by now. He continues, “I mean, I wonder if you’re too worked up to see things clearly, y’know?”

What? Changbin narrows his eyes. “How can I not be worked up?” he asks. “This is Felly we’re talking about, Chris, she’s in danger. This is serious.”

“No, I know,” Chris insists, frowning back, “I’m just sayin’, like, this situation is really important and I think you’re a little . . . overwhelmed, maybe. Not thinking straight.”

This is exactly the conversation Changbin didn’t want to have. He shakes his head, rising to his feet and picking up his coat. How does Chris not understand this? Felix is one of the most important people in Changbin’s entire life, and he’s in trouble. Why on earth should he take a step back? And why isn’t Chris more serious about this?

“Chris,” he says, “stop trying to tell me to calm down. Go to bed. And when you wake up, we’re not talking about this anymore.”

Chris opens his mouth to protest, but Changbin is already gone. He gives Han and Jinnie a wide berth and strides away from the fire. Checking on the horses, who cannot argue over whether or not Changbin is rightfully upset over his friend’s kidnapping, seems much more appealing than hashing this out with Chris.

He pulls his coat on, wishing it wasn’t so cold out here, because he’s not going back to the fire until he has to wake Jinnie up for his watch. If anybody wants to bother him, they’ll have to get up and come do it out here, damn it.

“Hey,” a voice sounds behind him, accompanied by footsteps approaching.

Of course. Changbin sighs, “Hey, Jinnie.” He asked for this. For the last two days he’s been wanting Jinnie to stop being so morose and talk to him. Even if Changbin’s annoyed at the moment, this is still better than nothing.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jinnie says. Even silhouetted by the firelight, the apprehension on his face still shows. He clears his throat. “Uh, do you mind if I stay up with you?”

“Be my guest,” Changbin replies.

Jinnie comes closer, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. The two of them just watch the horses slowly drift as they graze, the moments passing in silence. Maybe Jinnie isn’t ready to talk yet. He’s probably just sick of detaching himself. But Changbin finds that he’s not as agitated as he was a minute ago, and he doesn’t want to let this opportunity go to waste.

“I meant to tell you,” he begins, “I’m sorry about your dad.”

Jinnie gives the barest of nods. “Thanks,” he replies. “It’s weird. I don’t really know what’s going on with my family. It almost doesn’t feel real. But I feel bad that I haven’t been there to help my mom with any of it.”

Changbin hums, understanding. He can’t think of anyone’s mother without thinking of his own. His memories are littered with regrets over things he never got the chance to say or do. What Jinnie’s dealing with is uncertain, but Changbin knows what he would do, if he could. 

“I hope you get to talk to her soon,” he says simply.

“Me too,” Jinnie agrees. He falls silent again, his breath clouding in the chilly air. His expression is unreadable. There’s a long pause before he speaks again. “I’m sorry about everything,” he says quietly.

“Huh?” Changbin glances over at him. What would Jinnie have to apologize for? “Did you say you’re sorry?”

Jinnie doesn’t look at him, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. “Yeah. About Felly. She’s—I mean, what happened to her is my fault, and I know you’re angry.” He sucks in a breath. “I didn’t mean for her to get involved in any of this. I know it’s my fault there were people after her, and I know she was only out by herself because I upset her.” 

“Wait, what?” Changbin asks, frowning in confusion.

Jinnie squeezes his eyes shut, almost wincing. “You know,” he says, “after I saw you two together. I swear I didn’t mean to come between you, I just never realized—ugh, I’m sorry. About all of it. You have every right to be mad.”

Blinking, Changbin shakes his head. “Jinnie, no,” he insists, taking him by the arm. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”

“Of course not!” He can’t believe Jinnie’s been thinking that this whole time. “How could you have known about the men that were coming to find you? It’s not your fault that they took Felly, nobody could’ve predicted that!”

Even in the dark, the whites of Jinnie’s eyes shine as he looks at Changbin in disbelief. “But . . . what about the other thing?”

“You’re wrong about that, too,” Changbin assures him. “You never came between me and Felly, I promise. There wasn’t much there to begin with.”

Jinnie gives him a doubtful look. And even as he says that, Changbin’s not sure if it’s actually true. But he’s been trying not to dwell on what happened—the kiss and what it might’ve meant. It seems pointless to dig through that when the more urgent matter is getting Felix back. 

Regardless, though, he knows how much Felix means to him, and he knows the feeling is mutual. The idea that Jinnie somehow disrupted that is absurd.

“Felly’s always talked about how much she likes you,” he continues. “It’s not like you made that stuff up. She was upset the other day, but only ‘cause she didn’t want you to get hurt. She cares about you a lot, Jinnie, and so do I. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jinnie moves away the slightest bit, his eyes searching Changbin’s face. “Do you mean that, though?”

“Yes,” Changbin says decisively. “I was never angry with you. I’m sorry I let you think that.” He gives Jinnie’s arm a squeeze. Out of everyone here, he’s the only person Changbin hasn’t been angry with.

“It’s fine,” Jinnie exhales. He covers Changbin’s hand with his own, a warm touch against the cold. “I’m just glad we’re okay. We are okay, right?”

“Of course,” Changbin says. Jinnie drops his hand, visibly relaxing.

He really has been too caught up in his own feelings these last few days. He blocked out everything besides his own stress. He’s been angry with Han for letting this happen and angry with Chris for plowing on so readily, but he didn’t think about where that anger came from. After seeing Jinnie be so hard on himself, he’s starting to figure it out.

“Maybe I’m just mad ‘cause I can’t do anything,” Changbin admits, frowning down at his boots. “I wasn’t there to protect Felly when she got taken. And now all we can do is worry about whether or not she’s okay. It’s frustrating.”

“It feels helpless,” Jinnie offers, nodding. 

“Yeah.” The guilty feeling that’s been creeping into Changbin’s mind throughout this conversation is fully-fledged now. He owes Chris an apology tomorrow, and Han too. Not that he quite forgives Han yet, but he’ll work on it. “I’m sorry I made you think I was mad at you,” he says again.

“It’s alright, I’ll forgive you,” Jinnie replies, giving him a hesitant smile. Something tugs on Changbin’s heart when he sees it, realizing how much he’s missed that smile.

He reaches out and lays a hand on Jinnie’s shoulder. He has nothing else to say, no words to summarize his feelings, so they lapse back into silence. Gradually, the last of the tension seems to thaw.

“I’m gonna round the horses up and hitch them,” Changbin says. “You should try to sleep. I’ll wake you up for your watch.”

After a considerate pause, Jinnie concedes. “Okay,” he says. “Um, thank you for talking with me. For being so nice about it.”

Changbin smiles. “No nicer than you deserve.”

Jinnie scoffs, “Yeah, whatever. Goodnight, Binnie.”

“Goodnight.”

Alone again, Changbin sighs to himself. Things are still bad. Felix is still in trouble, and Changbin is still worried sick over it. But at least Jinnie’s talking to him again, and that’s something.

~~~

“Why are you asking me?” Jeongin complains, crossing his arms.

“‘Cause I have a business to run,” Minho argues, elbow-deep in dirty dishes. “In case you’ve forgotten, my only two employees are on a perilous crusade that they may never return from, so I have a lot of extra work.”

Jeongin stares at him flatly from the kitchen doorway. “Are you really trying to guilt me with that?”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Is it working?”

The unimpressed expression on Jeongin’s face implies a no. He’s been stubbornly resisting Minho’s coercion for the last few minutes. But Minho can be awfully persistent when he wants to, and this is the only thing he wants to be doing at the moment.

“Come on,” he insists, gesturing to the messy kitchen (which he purposely put off cleaning until this moment). “I’d do it myself, but I still have all this stuff to do. I’d really appreciate a little help from my favorite boarder.”

Though he appears unmoved, Jeongin shrugs. “Fine. But I’m just gonna leave it on the porch.”

“In the cold?” Minho asks indignantly, dropping a soapy dish for emphasis. “Jeongin, you mean to tell me that after I spent all night cooking, you want to leave it outside in the cold? To waste my efforts?”

Jeongin pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lee Know, I don’t wanna talk to him. I’ll bring him dinner, but that’s where I draw the line. I’m leaving it on the porch.”

“So you want him to starve,” Minho concludes, tutting. “That’s not very Christian-like of you, Jeongin. All I’m askin’ you to do is be a kind neighbor and bring poor Seungmin a warm meal after he’s worked all day, and here you are telling me you want that man to starve to death.”

Sighing in exasperation, Jeongin shakes his head. “What is wrong with you?”

“A lot,” Minho replies. “Now go bring him the plate and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jeongin mumbles, but he takes the covered dish off the counter and disappears back through the kitchen door. “I’m gonna leave it on the porch!” he calls over his shoulder.

Minho smiles to himself. This is fun.

~~~

When Felix comes to for the third (possibly final) time, the entire camp has their guns trained on him. 

Fuck, he thinks, flinching back. His already bruised head makes contact with the crate behind him and he lets out a groan. 

None of the men surrounding him say anything. They just leer at him as he rights himself. If he wasn’t so terrified, he might find the whole set up funny. The litany of weapons pointed at him, the grimaces on all their faces, and Felix in his stained and torn-up nightgown tied up in the center of it all makes for a comical scene.

That being said, being tied up at gunpoint is, objectively, a terrifying scenario with or without the shred of hilarity attached.

“We’re gonna try this again. What are you?” one of them finally speaks up.

Felix sighs, shutting his eyes as he tries to calm down. He knew this was coming. He’s done for. He wishes he could have said goodbye to everyone. At least he got one kiss with Binnie. At least he got a chance at starting over however brief it was. At least, he was happy. His only regret is Jinnie. There is nothing he can do about it now though. However much he wants things to be different, they can’t.

 Dropping his voice, he says, “You know what, yeah. Sure. Whatever. I’m a man. I’m Felix Lee. Shoot me.”

Chapter Text

Contentedly, Seugnmin surveys the fruits of his labor. He's successfully emptied and dragged an old, heavy oakwood dresser with a missing leg from Chris’s spare bedroom all the way to the front door. It was the biggest, most unwieldy piece of furniture in the room. It scraped the floor hard enough to scratch it, but Seungmin avoided dropping the whole thing on his fingers, so he’s satisfied with himself. 

And all before I even have to leave for work, he commends himself. I think I’ve earned a second cup of coffee.

Walking to the kitchen, he brushes past the coatrack where his friends’ hats and coats usually hang. For what seems like the hundredth time this morning, he wonders how the rescue mission is going. He hopes they've found Felly by now.

He makes his way to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. Beside him on the counter is the dish Lee Know brought him last night, already washed and ready to be returned. It was nice of him to do that, although Seungmin was slightly offended by the insinuation that he can't cook for himself. And by the fact that Lee Know just left it on the porch instead of coming in to talk. He would've liked the company.

Since Chris and the others left, Seungmin’s been going to work at the Sheriff’s Station like normal and cleaning out the spare room in his free time, as per Chris’s instructions. It's strange to be alone at the office, and it's strange to be alone here. Seungmin’s hardly spoken to another person in the last two days.

At least he has an excuse to drop by The Saloon after work to return the dish. Maybe he’ll stay for a drink.

Although, he considers that idea, maybe not.

It was nice of Chris to offer him to stay here, because the last few weeks at The Saloon have been . . . uncomfortable. Seungmin is determined to avoid stepping on Jeongin’s toes and driving him out of town for good, which pretty much means avoiding him altogether. He’s spent more and more time at work. He’s dropped out of the choir. When he’s home, he doesn’t hang out downstairs much. And annoyingly, Lee Know has consistently made a point to give Seungmin a hard time about being so antisocial. Overall, it’s not the most pleasant living situation.

But staying at Chris’s house isn't the most pleasant solution. It’s a nice place, except that it's depressing as Hell.

The house has never been so quiet. It's uncanny. Every time he passes under Jinnie’s room, Seungmin wonders if he’ll ever come back to Jay Park. Or if something will go terribly wrong and none of them will ever come back. But there's no way he can know what's happening, no way to ease his worries. What is he supposed to do with that? It's kind of unbearable.

Sighing, he puts his half-empty coffee cup into the sink and grabs Lee Know’s dish off the counter on his way out. He pulls his coat on, sidesteps the broken dresser in the foyer, and locks the front door behind him.

The sky is overcast and gloomy, a fitting backdrop for Seungmin’s walk to work. Ordinarily he might hurry so he doesn't have to linger in the cold, but today he takes his time. He’s in no rush to start his shift in the empty office.

And then he spots Jeongin across the street leaving The Saloon, about to start in his direction. Shit. 

Without even thinking, Seungmin ducks into the closest alley. He hopes he got out of the way before Jeongin saw him. Ignoring the spike of adrenaline, he picks up the pace again. He’ll just go the long way to the Sheriff’s Station.

“This is stupid,” he mutters to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks. 

Chris’s advice from the other day echoes hollowly in his brain, telling him to be upfront and face the situation head-on. What am I hiding from? He probably doesn't even care if he sees me or not. 

But Seungmin can't shake the evasive habit he's developed. Jeongin hasn't made any moves to talk to him since their fight, and Seungmin can’t blame him. He’s certainly not about to try and force it himself. And it makes him feel worlds worse to actually see Jeongin and remember everything he did wrong. Ignoring him is much more comfortable.

This is a reminder of why he's lucky to be staying at Chris’s house. If he's alone, he has no one to avoid or awkwardly bump into and nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing to hide from.

At the same time, though, spending a few days away just highlights how comfortable he’s gotten living at The Saloon. The routines he’s settled into, the familiarity of the people and the place, the easy way he lives his life there. Or at least, the way he used to live. He wants things to go back to the way they were.

Seungmin sighs as he approaches the office, digging out his keys to unlock the door. This is a problem of his own making and he knows it. He should do something about it.

Staying at Chris’s house doesn’t fix anything. As soon as his friends come home, he’ll have to return to his little bedroom on the second floor of The Saloon, right next door to Jeongin’s, and he’ll have to find a way to make it work. So he’d better prepare himself to do that.

~~~

Han has been sleeping with one eye open. Which means he isn’t sleeping.

As they break camp this morning and prepare to get moving again, he can tell something has shifted, but he can’t put his finger on exactly what. The tension has only gotten thicker since they left town. Binnie has been angry with him from the very beginning, and so has Chris, though he’s been less vocal about it. Between Binnie’s abrasive attitude and Chris’s grudging coldness, they’ve made it clear that Han is treading water.

Just as the sun breaks over the horizon, the four of them tack their horses and clear out the remains of their camp. Han double-checks every buckle and strap of his saddle, praying he’ll avoid any mishaps.

“You’ve got the cinch too loose, Han, you need to tighten it,” comes Jinnie’s voice from somewhere behind him. 

Han turns around, surprised to be spoken to, but Jinnie just goes back to what he was doing.

Jinnie seems like the only person who’s not actively upset with Han, but that’s because he’s been totally withdrawn since he got that letter from his mother. Though Han wonders if he’s doing better today, since he went out of his way to say something just now.

But all in all, two-thirds of this outfit are pissed at him, and Han feels like he might get killed any second.

And honestly, he wouldn’t hold it against them. After all, they’re not wrong. If it hadn’t been for Han’s stupid impulse decision to follow the kidnappers, they probably would have found Felix and gotten him home again that same night.

Han pinches his finger between two rings of the cinch. “Ow, shit,” he draws a sharp breath and shakes out his hand.

As he looks away from the saddle, he spots Binnie eyeing him over the back of his horse. Han freezes, quickly glancing away. He’s been catching the sideways look from Binnie all morning. 

He’s probably planning my murder. God, I hope I don’t die today, Han thinks. Even if I do kinda deserve it. 

Suppressing a bitter sigh, Han returns his attention to the saddle. He needs to hurry up if he wants to be ready to leave on time with the others, but his mind continues churning.

Of all people, why did it have to be Felix? He’s one of the nicest people Han has ever known, (not that he can recall knowing many people), and he’s been trying so hard to settle down in Jay Park. It’s just not fair. 

Another thing that’s been bugging him is the question of what Felix was coming to see him for in the middle of the night. What did he need? Was it something good or something bad? Han can’t remember ever having a friend who would confide in him or seek him out like that. Of all people . . . 

Han can’t stand to think of whatever pain or distress Felix might be in. He forces himself to stop thinking and focus on what he’s doing. He can’t dwell on this right now.

“Almost ready, Han?” Chris calls to him. “We need to get moving soon.”

Han clears his throat. “Yeah, almost.”

Be optimistic, he tells himself. We’ll be there soon.

~~~

Felix feels an overwhelming sense of giddiness swell in him as he looks out into the crowd of people. It’s, in reality, not that big, but Felix considers it the first of many larger to come. 

Unconsciously, he scans the crowd for his parents and his sisters. It’s a bad idea. He knows they aren’t going to be there, but he looks anyway in the hopes his sisters were at least able to sneak away and watch. There’s no sign of them.

Felix focuses on bowing, keeping that bright smile on his face to match the stage lights above. This is his first role in a major production, and he is determined to keep his positive mood lasting all night. 

When the curtain finally falls for the last time and they make their way off stage, Felix takes his time getting undressed, laughing and chatting with the other actors and staff. Felix could get used to this life. As much as he enjoys his classes, this is his true calling. The atmosphere is fun and lively. Everyone is dressed in outrageous costumes. Their hair is done up all fancy, and their makeup looks flawless. Felix loves just being a small part of it. He feels free to express himself in a way he doesn’t in most other places. 

I wish I could live in moments like this forever, he thinks with a sigh. 

Just as he finally begins to pack his shit up and head back to his dorm, the lead actor, Jackson Wang, approaches him, grinning wide and happy. Felix thinks surely he has gotten the wrong guy. 

“Felix! Just the man I wanted to see!” he says, clapping Felix on the shoulder like they’ve been friends for years. Felix wasn’t even aware he knew his name. “I’m glad to have found you. I wanted to invite you to my party.”

Felix blinks at him a moment, briefly casting his gaze to where Jackson’s hand rests on his shoulder. “What?” 

Jackson laughs, giving his shoulder a little shake. “My party? It’ll be fun. It’s at my favorite bar in this town. We’re heading over soon.” 

With that, he’s gone, leaving Felix behind dumbstruck and scrambling to finish packing up. There is no way in Hell he is missing this. 

~~~

“Alright,” Seungmin sighs, talking to himself. “Let’s get this over with.”

He peers at the broken dresser by the front door. He needs to get it all the way out of the house, which entails hauling it down a few porch steps. Based on his experience hauling it down the hall this morning, that won’t be an enjoyable task.

Oh well. He’s put it off long enough already. He tried to kill time by dropping by The Saloon after work, but Lee Know rushed him out, insisting he’d better get back to his chores at Chris’s house. Asshole was probably just trying to clear tables.

But this is as good a time as any. Once it’s done, he can relax and figure out what to eat for dinner.

Seungmin props the door open, takes a deep breath, and lifts one side of the cabinet. It’s stupidly heavy, and more than that it’s awkward. It’s a hassle just to get it through the doorway. Seungmin shuffles back inch-by-inch, pulling the broken end through first. Then he has to set it down to go and pick up the other side. 

Why does Chris even have this thing? he wonders bitterly.

Finally, after Seungmin negotiates the dresser all the way out, he goes back inside to take off his coat. He’ll need a better range of motion to move that thing all the way to the road.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he hangs his coat on the rack and rolls up his sleeves. He swings the door open again, mentally preparing himself to suck it up and get the dresser down the stairs in one fell swoop. 

Which is why he’s not at all prepared to be face-to-face with Jeongin. 

Shit. Seungmin’s stomach does a somersault. 

There he is, frozen mid-step on the porch, holding the exact same covered dish that Lee Know brought over yesterday. His eyes are wide with surprise, his shoulders tense. Why is he here? 

Trying to reel himself in, Seungmin says simply, “Hey, Jeongin.”

“Hi,” Jeongin clears his throat, straightening up. “Uh, sorry. I was just gonna leave this out here . . .”

Seungmin frowns. Lee Know’s not bringing me dinner? “Oh,” he realizes, “it’s you.” He then realizes that those words make no sense out of context. “I mean—I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Yeah,” Jeongin says lightly, forcing a chuckle, “I didn’t expect to see you either.” He shifts his weight, glancing away. His smile isn’t real. He looks uneasy.

He didn’t want to see me, Seungmin concludes. This wasn’t his idea, was it?

Of course. That shouldn’t come as a surprise, given their month of mutual avoidance. Still, his stomach settles heavily with the confirmation. It’s only now that Seungmin understands he was hoping for something else. His earlier resolution to stop dodging the situation goes out the window.

Fine, he thinks, let’s get this over with.

“So that must be from Lee Know,” Seungmin says, nodding to the dish.

“Oh, yeah,” Jeongin replies, moving forward to give it to him. “He asked me to bring it again.”

Seungmin takes it from him, trying (and thankfully succeeding) not to touch his hand. “Well,” he says, “tell him he can come in and talk next time. I might like to have a few words with him.”

“Mm. I’ll let him know.” Jeongin puts his hands in his pockets, turning to go.

“Thanks. See you,” Seungmin says, relieved to be wrapping this up.

But Jeongin hesitates, sending an odd look back at Seungmin. He opens his mouth to say something, but seems to decide against it. “Yeah, see you,” he says finally.

 Seungmin shuts the door and stares at it for a minute.

What the fuck is Lee Know’s problem? What’s he getting at?

Obviously Jeongin still doesn’t want to talk to him. He’s probably enjoyed himself the last few weeks without having Seungmin tangled in his hair all the time. Why would Lee Know try to mess with him by digging up the tension? Seungmin gets why Lee Know would do something like that to him, but he shouldn’t amuse himself by making Jeongin uncomfortable.

And God, that was definitely uncomfortable. 

Seungmin rubs a hand over his face, wincing. Why did I act so weird? Jeongin is probably walking back to The Saloon right now, grimacing at how embarrassingly awkward that whole exchange was. 

Huffing a sigh, Seungmin drags himself to the kitchen and drops into a chair. He has no appetite for whatever Lee Know has sent him. His mind just keeps repeating snippets of what he said, what Jeongin said, how he looked, trying to figure out if the ground they stand on is better or worse than he anticipated.

Jeongin didn’t look disappointed to see Seungmin. He seemed more startled, really. But his whole demeanor was stiff and fidgety, like he couldn’t wait to leave. Seungmin feels a pang at the image of his strained smile. It would’ve been so nice to see a real one.

What a mess. It’s hard to imagine how much better things used to be. It’s hard to imagine they’ll ever be better again.

It’s only much later, after several long cycles of self-conscious scrutinization, that Seungmin remembers the dresser is still out on the porch, unmoved.

~~~

“Hey, Han.” 

Chris’s voice gets Han’s attention, pulling him out of the wearying monotony of his horse’s footsteps. 

The day has passed slowly, but the sun is finally starting to set. They’ll stop and make camp in an hour or so. Han looks forward to it, as his lack of sleep has caught up with him and his ass is sore from being in the saddle for so long.

“Yeah?” he calls back up to Chris.

“Come up here, let’s chat,” Chris says. When he asked to talk to Han yesterday it was about which supplies he was carrying. He’ll probably ask about that again, since they’re stopping soon.

Han nudges his horse up further, leaving Jinnie and Binnie at the back of the trail. They’re both less tense and reserved today, talking quietly among themselves even now.

“What is it?” Han asks, sidling up to Chris’s left.

“I just wanted to talk,” Chris replies. “I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Han’s eyebrows raise against his will. “Huh?” He might’ve flinched if he wasn’t already trying so hard to keep his balance on horseback.

“Yeah.” Chris sucks a breath through his teeth. “To be honest, I should’ve checked on you a while ago. I know—well, I know you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Han begins uncertainly. He didn’t expect this from one of the people who might’ve been plotting his untimely death. “I’m fine.”

Chris shrugs. “I know I was a bit hard on you when you first showed up at my house the other day. I was worried about Felly and frustrated by how little we knew. Between me and Binnie, I’m sure we made you feel a lot worse.”

Frowning, Han reasons, “I mean, I did feel bad,” he says, “but I’d done something wrong. It was justified.”

“Mm,” Chris nods. “You made a bad choice, but it’s not your fault Felly got kidnapped. What I’m tryin’ to say is that I think Binnie and I should’ve been nicer to you.”

“Oh.” Is he serious? He looks serious.  

This is strange. Han is guilty about what happened to Felix. He couldn’t have prevented it, but he could’ve lessened the damage. But hearing Chris say those words, something eases in Han’s chest. Maybe he doesn’t have to feel as guilty as he has been.

“Thanks for saying that,” Han says. “For checkin’ on me.”

“You’re welcome,” Chris replies, giving him a smile.

A few beats of silence pass, and Han wonders if he’s really okay. If the others aren’t as angry with him as he’d thought. It seems that way now. The knot of anxiety that’s been snared around his heart for the last few days is starting to loosen. He thinks about crying into Lee Know’s shoulder, unable to push it down. He’s already doing so much better than he was then.

“What’re you gonna do when we get back to Jay Park?” Chris asks, drawing him back to the present.

Han hasn’t thought about that. “I don’t know,” he replies. “If we get F—I mean, if we get Felly back safe, then I guess I’ll go back to what I was doing before. Although,” he adds, suddenly remembering, “I wanted to ask you about some stuff, career-wise.”

Chris’s eyes widen. “Wait, really? What about?”

“I was thinkin’ about bounty hunting,” Han says, his mind latching onto the prospect of something positive. “I’ve also thought about moving.”

“Moving?” Chris asks, becoming serious. “You don’t like the boxcar anymore?”

Han sighs, “Yeah, I know I talk it up a lot, but it actually fuckin’ sucks. I don’t know where I’ll go, but I could start working, save some money, and find a place.”

“Ah,” Chris stares at him for a moment, a smile growing on his face. “Well, I guess that’s good news, isn’t it? I’ll help you find a place, if you want.”

He’s acting like he’s hiding something. Han narrows his eyes in suspicion, but he goes along with it. “That’s nice of you, Chris,” he says. “I’d like that.”

“Good, good. And we’ll talk more about bounty hunting later, I promise.” He pauses before asking, “So are you really alright, or were you lying?”

“I think I am,” Han says, allowing himself a smile. “I still feel bad, but as long as you’re not gonna kill me, I think I can deal with it.”

“I—no, Han, I’m not gonna kill you.” Chris grins, shaking his head. “Have you forgotten all those times you asked me to shoot you and I refused?”

“That’s not the kinda thing I forget,” Han objects, relaxing. “And I haven’t asked you to shoot me in a long time, so you could’ve changed your mind. How should I know?”

“Ah, always some explanation,” Chris sighs. “But what do you mean, ‘that’s not the kinda thing you forget?’”

Han waves him off. “I don’t forget stuff these days, I just can’t remember the past. I was only joking just now.”

Chris tilts his head. “So when you make little comments about not remembering things. . .”

Han frowns. “Have we not talked about this before?” At Chris’s quizzical look, he sighs. “It’s a pain to get into it, but I don’t remember my past, like, at all. Everything is either really foggy or just not there. I don’t really forget things anymore, though.” This is such old news to Han that he never thinks about clarifying it to other people.

“Wait,” Chris holds up a hand, eyebrows furrowing. “I never realized you were serious about that stuff. When is your earliest memory from?”

Having thought about that a lot himself, Han has his answer ready. “About two years ago, I think. Most of what’s missing is about who I am or how I grew up.”

“Oh, wow.” Chris glances away, taking in that information.

Normally, Han avoids this subject because the follow-up questions are exhausting. One nice thing about his friends is that they tend not to ask about personal stuff, so he usually doesn’t have to explain how little he knows about his own life. This feels okay, though, explaining it to Chris.

“Well, sorry to make you get into it,” Chris says after a second, offering an apologetic look. 

“Eh,” Han waves him off. “I’ll let it slide, since we had a little heart-to-heart and all.”

“I appreciate it,” Chris says dramatically, putting a sentimental hand to his chest. Han mimics the gesture, smiling. 

Maybe things are going to be okay after all. Felix is still in danger and nothing can resolve that anxiety, but this conversation has lifted a different weight off of Han’s shoulders. At least now he knows that his friends don’t completely hate him. It’s not everything, but it’s something. 

~~~

“AHHHHHH” yells some understudy just inches away from Felix’s ear.

 He ducks to get away, cradling his drink in close. It’s empty, and with all the noise crowding up this corner of the place, Felix decides it’ll be best to head back to the bar for another glass.

“Hey, Felix!” a voice interrupts him on the way there. “I didn’t expect you to be here!” 

Felix takes a second to register who is speaking, but once he does he is quick to smile and clap him on the shoulder, his drink temporarily forgotten. 

“Theo!” he says, “What are you doing here?” 

They stand there for a moment, rehashing the play. It’s nice, talking to Theo. He and Felix are a lot alike in some ways. They’re both students, for one. Felix feels a kindred spirit in the light tech. Especially so after one glass of his fruity cocktail. Speaking of . . .

“Hey! I’m going to get another drink.” He raises his glass. “Do you want anything?” 

Theo waves him off, so Felix makes the trek to the bar alone. He orders his drink with little to no problem. The bartender briefly raises an eyebrow at what it is he asks for, but he goes and fixes it without complaint. 

While he waits, Felix sits at one the stools, turning so that he can take in the whole party at once. A lot of things are going on. A heated round of poker is being played in the corner Felix was in earlier. A group of men are gathered around another table armwrestling. Some barmaids filter through, serving drinks and laughing at the drunks. It's a lot. 

Closer to where he is sitting, Felix spots one of barmaids trapped between two men. Felix isn’t one to jump to conclusions, but something about the scene raises alarm bells. He gets off the stool and moves in closer, hoping to find some clarity on the situation. 

“Just hold still. There’s no need to put up this much of a fight.” Felix hears one of the men say. 

The girl squirms again, her yell drowned out by the din of sound that populates the bar. Felix decides that's all the clarity he needs, and he springs into action without really forming a plan. 

“Get off of her, you shit!” he yells, pulling the man off the lady with as much force he can muster. 

“The fuck!?” the guy hollers. As he takes a moment to get his bearings, his cronies turn on Felix.

At least the girl gets away, slipping past in all the confusion. 

A crowd forms around them as people take notice of the fight that’s brewing between Felix and these much older, much bigger men. It’s a good thing that he actually knows how to fight. He’s certainly about to give these people a show. 

He goes on the offensive quick. Before any of the goons can land a blow, Felix has knocked most of them out. Truthfully, Felix is shocked they haven’t gotten forcefully removed from this establishment yet. 

The man from the beginning snarls, swinging wildly at Felix so that all he can do is duck and dodge. Once he’s back up against the bar, he catches sight of his abandoned cocktail, mixed and ready, sitting at the edge just in his reach. He grabs it and smashes the glass against the man's head. 

The man staggers back, eyes wide. “You bitch! You little bitch!” he screams. He wipes the fruity mixture from his face. “Somebody get me my gun. You just signed your death warrant, kiddo. We are dueling, right now.”

The next few minutes are a blur. Somehow a gun is pushed into Felix’s hand and he is led outside ten paces from the man he pulled off that barmaid. Felix knows this can only end two ways. He is not about to throw this for some wellminded reason. He could die. He could really die. 

So instead, he shoots. His aim is true, and the man is dead. He can’t look. Felix has killed someone. He has honest-to-god killed someone. 

Oh God. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, is the only thing that is streaming through his brain right now. He can never go home. He can never go back to school. He can never perform again. He has to go. He has to run. 

He races back to his dormitory to grab some of his things, packing frantically. He grabs anything that he thinks might be important. He just needs to leave now. Everything he packs goes in a single bag and then he’s gone. 

Felix leaves on the first train out of New Orleans. He doesn’t even last long enough to see his bounty printed. He just leaves his home and his identity behind. 

~~~

“I’m not letting you off the hook for this,” Jeongin argues, “it’s gone too far.” 

He’s been sitting at the bar, tapping his foot, waiting for The Saloon to close. Lee Know’s been pretending he’s too busy to talk, but that’s bullshit, and he’s been running out of excuses to postpone this conversation.

“C’mon,” Lee Know says, passing him a short glass of moonshine, “it couldn’t have been that bad. Weren’t you glad to see him?”

“Cut it out,” Jeongin grumbles, ignoring the glass in favor of forcing the image of Seungmin out of his mind. “Of course I wasn’t glad to see him, it was embarrassing. And I know what you’ve been trying to do.”

“What do you mean?” Lee Know asks innocently. “I just wanted to make sure someone was taking care of Seungmin, and I’ve been preoccupied—”

“I said cut it out,” Jeongin snaps. “You’ve been trying to get me to talk to him for days, and now it’s crossed the line. I’m not delivering anything else for you, got it? It’s your fault I had to see his ugly face today, and I’m not gonna forget it.”

Lee Know gasps, offended. “Jeongin!” He puts a hand over his heart. “That is not very nice! Seungmin is your friend—”

“We are not friends,” Jeongin interrupts. “And you need to mind your own business.”

“This is my business,” Lee Know insists, frowning. “Y’all both live in my Saloon. If there’s any sort of animosity between the two of you, which I wouldn’t know anything about, then I’d wanna make sure it’s hashed out before Seungmin moves back in. I don’t wanna deal with you two avoiding each other and being all passive-aggressive all the time. That’s annoying.”

“Oh, please,” Jeongin scoffs. “You don’t care about that, you just wanna see us go around in circles and embarrass ourselves.”

Lee Know raises an eyebrow. “If that’s what I wanted, I’d be perfectly content to let you carry on with what you’ve been doing for the past month,” he shoots back. “And I bet it’ll only get worse after today.”

This is ridiculous. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Jeongin says, shaking his head. “If you knew what happened, you’d know I can’t fix it with one quick conversation. Seungmin’s not just gonna forget about it and move on, believe me.”

Lee Know starts to reply, but pauses. “Wait, you were the one that messed things up?” he asks, letting the oblivious act drop. “I totally thought it was Seungmin.”

“Ugh, give me a break,” Jeongin mutters, standing up from the bar. “I’m not explaining it to you. Let me summarize: I’m not gonna talk to him anymore, and you need to butt out.” 

He turns, leaving Lee Know and his untouched glass of moonshine, and goes upstairs. Sighing heavily, Jeongin shuts his bedroom door and stares at it for a second.

Why should Lee Know have an opinion on this? Why is he getting involved? 

Jeongin was so, so not prepared to see Seungmin today. He didn’t think he would, since Seungmin’s been careful not to get anywhere near him. Like earlier this morning, when he changed his route to work just to keep from passing Jeongin in the street. He was probably less than thrilled to see Jeongin show up at his door unexpectedly.

Although, he didn’t look particularly upset. He just looked like his usual collected self. 

Don’t think about that, Jeongin warns himself, covering his face with his hands. He doesn’t know why he’s so flustered about it. Honestly, it’s probably just that he’s embarrassed about getting caught sneaking up on Seungmin’s porch.

Letting out a groan, Jeongin flops down onto his bed. 

He hadn’t seen Seungmin, really seen him, in what felt like forever. He looked tired, like he’s been restless lately. Of course, he probably doesn’t care if he sees Jeongin with everything else that’s going on. And Jeongin shouldn’t be so hung up on this silly stuff, either, when Felix is in trouble somewhere and the others are trying to track him down.

But he can’t stop thinking about this. Seungmin’s questioning expression, the flat tone of his voice. The way his face was flushed and his sleeves were rolled up from whatever work he’d just been doing, which is such an unusual look on him . . . It felt like he was seeing something too personal, too close for the distance they’ve been keeping from each other.

“Don’t think about that,” Jeongin tells himself again, out loud this time. 

Lee Know is right. He can’t go back to doing this every single time he runs into Seungmin by accident. Especially not now that he’s realized how hard it is to ignore him.

But that means he’ll have to talk to Seungmin. Like, go out of his way, go to Chris’s house, and have an intentional, face-to-face conversation. He’ll have to make Seungmin sit there and listen while he apologizes for taking out his stress on him, for losing his temper, and for everything since. And there’s still a chance it won’t help anything, because Seungmin has no reason to forgive him.

Still, they have to reach some kind of truce, otherwise it’ll be impossible to live together. Now that Jeongin’s decided against moving away, he has to do something about that. It’s going to be difficult, but that’s what he gets.

God, he thinks, staring at the ceiling, I hate when Lee Know is right.

~~~

At least they haven’t actually shot him. Felix is still alive . . . for now. 

After he revealed his identity, the men seemed more excited than anything. Clapping eachother on the back and grinning. It confused Felix for a moment, but he has never looked a gift horse in the mouth.

“You know what they say—two birds, one stone, fellas!” one of the guys shouts. “We’re headed back to New Orleans anyway! Might as well cash in a bounty while we’re there.” 

New Orleans? They’re headed to New Orleans. 

Fuck, he thinks. Felix is headed back home.

Chapter Text

Because the last few days have been so physically and emotionally difficult, Hyunjin is trying to be positive about today. And surprisingly, he has good reason.

It’s almost evening, but they’ve been traveling since early this morning. They passed through a town today and were able to stop and resupply, too. Chris seems to think they’re making good time, so much so that they’ll probably catch up with Felix’s captors sometime tomorrow.

The relief of being nearly there almost feels dangerous.

“Hey,” Binnie says from his horse, “do I see you worrying over there? Is that what I see?”

“No,” Hyunjin argues, frowning. After voicing his apprehension earlier, Binnie’s been checking in on him periodically. “I’m not worried, this is just my face.”

“I spend enough time looking at your face to know otherwise,” Binnie teases. But his smirk softens into something more sincere as he says, “Don’t look too far ahead, okay? Whatever happens next, we’ll take it as it comes.”

“I know,” Hyunjin sighs. He doesn’t need to explain any further, he knows Binnie understands.

All of them, really, seem to be similarly edgy—both excited and afraid for what could be in store. Chris, always pressing onward, is striking out with even more fervor today. Han, trailing only slightly behind him, has been quietly antsy since they broke camp this morning.

“Hey!” Chris calls suddenly back to them, interrupting Hyunjin’s thoughts, “Look up ahead. There’s another group way up there and I think we’re gonna pass them. Be on your guard.”

Another group? Hyunjin frowns.

Felix’s captors, the men his father sent, have taken sparsely populated routes southeast. Since they’ve been following those tracks, Hyunjin and the others have scarcely seen another rider out here, let alone several. Maybe that group is headed for the town they passed through earlier.

“Jinnie,” Han asks from ahead of him, “can you tell me how many people you see? ‘Cause it looks like a lot.”

Hyunjin squints, trying to make out the shapes of other riders on the horizon. That looks like four, five . . . seven? It’s hard to tell, but as they come into slightly sharper focus he’s sure he counts eight. 

“Eight,” Hyunjin says, hearing the concern in his own voice. “Chris, doesn’t that seem like a lot?”

“It sure does,” Chris agrees, “and not a wagon in sight. What’re they up to, I wonder?” Hyunjin sort of hopes they don’t find out.

Binnie remains quiet, his eyes fixed on the approaching figures.

Hyunjin doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath as their courses start to converge until Chris gestures for the three of them to move faster. As the four of them pick up their pace though, the oncoming eight appear to slow. They’re still a few dozen yards off, but Hyunjin begins to catch glimpses of a few of their faces, one of which is unabashedly staring at them.

Suddenly, Binnie sucks in a gasp. “Wait a minute—”

“Oh my God!” the staring stranger shouts, “Binnieeee!”

Hyunjin frowns. He hears Han quietly mutter, “What the fuck?” 

“Ah, shit,” Binnie groans. “Not this guy, please.”

The stranger takes his hat off, waving it wildly with one hand. “I knew I recognized you! Changbin, it’s me!” he calls, even as his companions give him bewildered looks. “It’s me! Wooyoung!”

“Jesus, calm down,” Hyunjin hears one of the others tell him.

Chris has already put the breaks on, slowing down and glancing back confusedly. “Binnie, you know these people?”

“Just one of them,” Binnie sighs. “Lucky me. We might wanna stop and talk to them, Chris. Knowing who they are, they’ll probably have useful information.” 

With no other warning, he goes out to meet the other group, waving back at the stranger—Wooyoung—making him laugh with delight. Hyunjin doesn’t know what to make of that, feeling unsettled by all of it. To his other side, Han looks similarly wary, eye scanning the group cautiously as Wooyoung rides over to meet Binnie, already chattering.

“I guess we’re stopping to talk, then,” Chris concludes as a different member of the group breaks off to approach them directly.

“Sorry about our friend,” the man says diplomatically, taking off his hat. He’s small in stature, but there’s some intensity about him that tells Hyunjin he’s the one in charge. “My name is Hongjoong. We don’t mean to bother you, but can I ask what y’all are doing out here?”

With a disarming smile, Chris replies, “I don’t see why not. I’m Chris. My friends and I are coming from Jay Park, west of here. Actually, I wonder if you might know something about an issue we’re dealing with.”

“Jay Park,” Hongjoong repeats, frowning. He turns around, calling to one of the others, “Seonghwa, don’t we know somebody in Jay Park?”

“Yeah, Lee Know moved there a while back!” the other man replies.

“No shit?” Chris asks, frowning. “Wow. Small world.”

“It sure is,” Hongjoong agrees, his gaze fixing on each of them in turn. “I’ll tell you what, we’re just about to stop and make camp. Why don’t you join us for a while, and you can tell me about this problem you’re having.”

~~~

Hyunjin isn’t sure why, but after the initial introductions, he feels strangely comfortable among this company. The newcomers doubly outnumber his friends, but something about them feels trustworthy. It helps that they’re surprisingly well-supplied and willing to share food.

While Chris and Hongjoong stand aside to discuss the situation they’re in, the others split into groups, either to tend to the horses or help cook dinner. Hyunjin and Han busy themselves with the former task, making hesitant conversation with the others.

Yunho is the most talkative, asking all kinds of friendly questions, and Mingi echoes him, seeming genuinely interested in their answers. Han is clumsy at evading everything, but at least he’s not picking fights.

“Why are those two so tall?” Han whispers when the others return to their chores. “None of our friends are tall like that.”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin replies. “They’re not terribly intimidating, though. It’s weird.”

“Yeah, I think I’m the most intimidated by that guy.” Han nods subtly to one of the quieter members, Jongho, who stands at the edge of the campfire. “For some reason I feel like he could break me in half,” Han says.

“He probably could. And he’s kinda scary, too,” Hyunjin adds, eyes darting to Yeosang, another quiet presence. His face is startlingly pretty, but he seems like he might be dangerous.

“Jinnie! Han!” Binnie calls from near the fire, “Come eat!”

“Oh, finally,” Han sighs. “I can’t say embarrassing things if my mouth is full of whatever’s in that pot.”

“You talk with your mouth full all the time,” Hyunjin mumbles, going to fix himself a bowl.

“Jinnie, sit by me,” Binnie says as he approaches, patting the ground beside him as everyone serves themselves and passes dishes around.

“How exactly do you know these guys?” Hyunjin asks quietly, taking a seat. 

“Wooyoung and I have been friends for years,” Binnie explains. “I’ve known about their operation for a while, but I’ve never met them all until now.”

“Operation?” Hyunjin asks. “What do they do, exactly?”

Binnie shrugs. “Apparently they’ve worked with Lee Know, so that should give you an idea of it.”

“Right.” Hyunjin nods, still somewhat confused. “What are they called?”

“We’re called ATEEZ,” Wooyoung interrupts, sitting on Hyunjin’s other side. Another guy, San, is with him. “But when you write it out, you have to use all capital letters. ATEEZ,” he repeats, tracing the letters in the air.

“Ah,” Hyunjin says, having no clue what that’s supposed to mean.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” San says politely, smiling, “it’s not worth it.”

Wooyoung scoffs at him. “How can you say that? It’s our name! It’s what we stand for! Even if I can’t remember the meaning off the top of my head—”

“Eat your soup,” San tells him, swatting him on the arm.

Hyunjin can’t help but smile. Maybe the reason these guys seem so familiar is because they remind him of his own friends. 

Across the fire, Jongho and Yunho laugh as Mingi frantically tries to dodge a moth that’s flying around the light. Seonghwa nags the leader that he should eat before it’s all gone. Yeosang, who looked so aloof earlier, offers to bring him and Chris a bowl while they talk.

“Binnie, how’d you and Wooyoung become friends?” Hyunjin finds himself asking.

Binnie raises his eyebrows. “Oh no, you don’t want that story,” he assures.

“Obviously he does,” Wooyoung argues. “It all started, like, four years ago? No, probably three years ago. Binnie used to live in New Mexico—”

“Let’s not get started with that,” San cuts him off, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure Jinnie would like to keep his dinner down.”

Hyunjin is about to follow up on that when Han comes over to sit by him, clearly a little shaken by all the activity. Or maybe he's just trying to get away from the moth.

“You alright?” Hyunjin asks, patting him on the back.

“Yeah,” he says tiredly. He leans in to add, “It sounds like Chris is getting a lot of details. He looks kinda worried, but I couldn’t overhear much.”

Before Hyunjin can follow up on that, Wooyoung pipes up again. “Oh hey, did y’all hear about Felix Lee? We heard he got caught!”

Binnie and Han both look up suddenly, briefly exchanging a glance.

Hyunjin hums. “Who’s Felix Lee?”

“I don’t wanna hear about that,” Binnie says firmly, waving a hand. “Tell me some other time.”

“No, seriously,” Wooyoung insists, “it’s the craziest thing! Apparently he’s been pretending to be a woman and hiding in some backwater town.”

“Can you really call it a backwater if it’s in the desert?” San asks, frowning.

Han and Binnie wear twin looks of distress. Hyunjin frowns. Is he supposed to know who Felix Lee is? 

“Who are you talking about?” he asks. “An outlaw?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says, “he’s some kid from New Orleans who they’ve been searching for since last year. Apparently he shot some politician in a duel and escaped all the way to West Texas, and he almost got away with it!”

Wait. New Orleans? Shouldn’t Hyunjin have heard about that? Felix Lee . . . From the corner of his eye, Hyunjin sees Binnie shaking his head to get Wooyoung to stop talking, but he keeps on.

“The funny part is that the guys who caught him kidnapped him for a totally different reason,” Wooyoung continues. 

“Uh,” San frowns, reading the atmosphere, “Wooyoung, maybe—”

“Apparently they thought he really was a woman, and they’re holding him for ransom against some other rich guy from New Orleans, which is a total coincidence, right? I can’t remember who the other rich guy is, though.” He stops, glancing at San questioningly. “What?”

Hyunjin is puzzled. The gears in his brain are grinding as he sifts through these pieces, because something about this doesn’t sound right. Felly got kidnapped for ransom. Hyunjin is a rich guy from New Orleans. But this is about some other outlaw pretending to be a woman, so that makes no sense. Felix Lee . . . 

“Jinnie,” Han puts a hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”

Hyunjin glances over, searching his expression, and then Binnie’s. They’re both looking at him strangely, with a mixture of anticipation and pity. His face starts to feel hot.

The pieces don’t snap together until Binnie begins, “She was gonna tell you . . .”

Felix Lee. Oh. Hyunjin’s heart stops beating. So Felly . . . isn’t Felly. 

“Oh my God.” He looks at Binnie. “Is all of that true?”

Binnie’s face hides nothing, but he admits it all the same. “Yes,” he says. “I found out a few months ago. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

Hyunjin feels like he’s not breathing. He stands up, taking a step back. How is Felly someone else? A man, an outlaw, a stranger from the very place Hyunjin’s been running from this whole time. How could he not have known that? He looks at Han, half expecting some kind of joke, but Han just has that same apologetic face.

“You knew too?” he asks, hearing the disbelief in his voice. 

Han winces, but nods affirmatively. “I used to borrow his clothes,” he explains. “Lee Know told me in the beginning.”

“So Lee Know—of course, of course he knows.” Hyunjin shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Does everybody know who Felly is except for me?”

“Jinnie?” From the edge of the group, Chris notices Hyunjin’s distress. “What’s the matter?” Then a look of realization crosses his face, veiling that same expression of pity that Han and Changbin have. He knows, too.

Hyunjin shakes his head. They all know. “I can’t do this right now.” He backs up further, turning away from their pitying looks. They all know except me. 

“Jinnie,” says Chris’s voice again, closer now, but Hyunjin ignores it, moving further away.

Why did she lie? Why didn’t she trust me? 

“Just give him a minute,” he hears Binnie say.

“Did I say something wrong?” Wooyoung asks. “I didn’t mean to . . .”

Hyunjin isn’t listening anymore. He has no idea what to think. Felly always had secrets (that much was clear). She rarely talked about herself. Always turning to him, asking him questions instead. He knew she must have had a complicated past. He knew there was something hidden behind the facade she maintained, but he never expected to learn something this big after months of knowing her.

This secret of Felly—of Felix’s, Hyunjin can’t help but think of how it so deliberately keeps them apart. They say hindsight is twenty/twenty, and looking back, all he can see is how this well-kept secret was, had to be, some sort of tactic to keep them from becoming too close, to keep Hyunjin a safe distance away. Like she—he never wanted him there in the first place.

Had he known, Hyunjin wonders at what could have been. He thinks about the endless hours sketching, of talking in The Saloon, of laughing together, heads tucked in close so that he can map every freckle on that face. He thinks about the barest touch of hands and of stolen glances. Despite not knowing, Hyunjin is sure that nothing would have changed had the knowledge been there. His feelings are for that woman, that man, that outlaw, that stranger from New Orleans, from home. 

What he is truly hung up on, in all of this, is that him not knowing was a choice that Felix Lee made himself. That man chose to keep them apart. That man does not, could not, share the same feelings.

Binnie had given him a shred of hope. He really had Hyunjin going for a second there, but he should’ve known the moment he saw them kiss that he was doomed to be left out for all of eternity. That Hwang Hyunjin would forever and always be an oblivious, naive mess of a man. He has been somehow cursed to be the last to know, the last to figure it all out. From stupid games, to family matters, to love. Nothing would never be in his grasp. 

God, I wish we could just talk . I wish he was here . But even as he thinks it, he doesn’t know if that's true. He doesn’t even know who he really is. 

“I’m gonna lose my mind,” he mumbles to himself. He wants to shut his whole brain off.

Needless to say, he is no longer trying to stay positive.

~~~

Jeongin has had a hard enough time getting to this point. He supposes it’s good to stop worrying so much about Felix and the others, but worrying about Seungmin isn't much of an improvement. Today is Saturday, and he and Lee Know obviously weren’t going to take a trip into town, so he’s had nothing to do all day except try to figure out how to talk to Seungmin. 

He waited until Seungmin was home from work, refrained from chickening out on the walk over, and managed not to lose his nerve after stiffly meeting him at the front door.

Now, sitting in Chris’s house, he can’t remember a single thing he was going to say.

Seungmin’s getting something in the kitchen, leaving Jeongin in the living room. He always finds it cozy in here, with the worn furniture and the warmth of the fireplace, but tonight it does nothing to settle his restless nerves. He tries to sit still.

“Here.” Seungmin returns, handing Jeongin a cup of hot tea as he takes a seat across from him. 

“Thanks,” Jeongin replies. He’s not in the mood for tea, but the mug gives his fidgety hands something to hang onto.

“Sorry about the mess,” Seungmin says, glancing back at the cluttered entryway. “I didn’t think I’d have a visitor today.” Like yesterday (and like always), he seems neat and unruffled, but his shifting gaze and strained posture give away his discomposure. He’s probably wondering why the Hell Jeongin is here.

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Jeongin assures him politely. “Um, I’m sorry for coming by unannounced.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m glad to see you. I’ve been bored shitless for like, three days,” Seungmin says, sipping his tea.

Glad to see me? Jeongin wonders, feeling his face warm. That has to be a joke.

Then, mercifully, Seungmin quits with the pleasantries and cuts to the chase. “So you said you wanted to talk. What is it you wanna talk about?”

This should be the hard part, but Jeongin is ready for it. Sitting here, looking at Seungmin, he knows he can’t keep skirting around this. It’s not only that he wants to avoid all the awkwardness; more than that, he wants a chance to get his friend back. He wants to have this conversation.

Taking a breath, he begins. “Right. This is probably—I mean, definitely overdue, but I know it’s important, and . . .” He makes himself meet Seungmin’s questioning gaze. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. For treating you so badly.”

The words hang in the air. Seungmin glances away, frowning. “You’re apologizing to me?” he asks.

Nodding, Jeongin feels that pang of guilt in his stomach. He tries to fall back on what he rehearsed. “I should’ve done it a long time ago. I said some really ugly things to you, and then kept ignoring you for weeks. I’ve been pretty awful, I know.” He stops himself from explaining further, not wanting to make excuses. “The least I owe you is an apology, but I understand if you don’t accept it.”

But Seungmin looks confused. He purses his lips, like he’s arranging his thoughts before he speaks them. Slowly, his eyes meet Jeongin’s as he says, “I thought I needed to apologize to you.”

Jeongin isn’t sure he heard that right. “Huh?”

“It’s my fault we fought in the first place,” Seungmin says. “I was a terrible friend. You had every right to be mad at me, so I should be the one saying I’m sorry.”

Halting, Jeongin frowns. “Wait, no,” he starts, but he can’t think fast enough to explain before Seungmin continues.

“Seriously. I knew how much stress you were under and how much you wanted to succeed, and I still bothered you constantly and interfered with everything.” His voice is measured and even, but it brims with regret. “I just never realized how much it bothered you. If I had, I would’ve stopped. It’s no wonder you hated me.”

What? Jeongin nearly drops his tea. “I don’t hate you,” he says, stunned. 

Seungmin raises a doubtful eyebrow. “No?”

Suddenly Jeongin understands the depth of the mistake he’s made. He didn’t just lose his temper and mouth off, he actually made Seungmin believe the terrible things he said, the most untrue words he’s ever spoken. Seungmin has been blaming himself this whole time. The pang of guilt twists like a knife.

The anxiety drains from Jeongin’s body, replaced by something frantic. Shaking his head, he reaches to touch Seungmin’s hand, to make him understand, but he catches himself and draws back. 

“Seungmin, no. I don’t—I didn’t mean what I said to you, that day when we fought. I was just upset! I was stressed and sad and I took it out on you, but I swear none of it was true,” he insists. 

Blinking, Seungmin searches his face. “But you said—”

“No,” Jeongin repeats. The words begin tumbling out before he can hold them in, “I like your dumb jokes. I miss you showing up to mess with me at school and at church. I was happier when you were bothering me all the time, my life is so boring now! You’re my best friend, Seungmin, I never hated you. I was just being an ass.” 

Seungmin’s eyes widen, his lips parting slightly like he’s taken aback.

Oh no, Jeongin mentally recoils. That was too much. That was way too much.

In a small voice, Seungmin asks, “I’m your best friend?” His brows are drawn, his tone uncertain.

 Hesitantly, Jeongin softens. He shrugs. “Well, yeah. I ate lunch with you every day for a year. Who else would be my best friend, Lee Know?”

A hint of a smile crosses Seungmin’s face, some of that teasing humor peeking through. “I can’t believe you just admitted that,” he remarks.

Jeongin can’t suppress his own smile. “Is there still time to take it back?”

“No, the stenographer already got it on record,” Seungmin replies, starting to grin as the tension melts. “We’re legally and officially best friends. And I’m glad for that.” 

“I’m glad, too,” Jeongin sighs, feeling it with his whole heart.

All the apprehension that he’s built up over the last month dissolves into dizzying, fluttering relief. He has no idea what to say or do now, but it doesn’t matter, because Seungmin is smiling at him and everything is going to be okay.

“So just to clarify,” Seungmin says, “you’re not gonna move away?”

Exhaling, Jeongin shakes his head. “No, don’t worry. I was probably never going to in the first place. Sorry I freaked you out when I told you that.”

“It’s alright,” Seungmin says, waving him off. “I’m just happy you’re staying.”

For whatever reason, Jeongin can never say what he means when it comes to Seungmin. He always shys away from expressing anything serious, pulling the punch with a laugh or an eye-roll, but this time it’s gratifying to let go. To actually be honest.

So he says, “Me too. And it means a lot that you want me to stay. It makes me feel good about being here. Like I belong,” he adds, hoping Seungmin remembers what he’d said that day.

Never one to be demonstrative, Seungmin simply nods, but his expression shows he understands. “That’s good,” he says quietly. “I’ll remind you whenever you need me to.”

A feeling, strange and warm, unfurls in Jeongin’s stomach at those words. All of the sudden everything is heightened—the dim light of the fire makes everything seem dreamy, Seungmin is looking at him with those soft, dark eyes, the shadow of a smile still on his lips, and Jeongin’s heart is beating awfully hard and it dawns on him that Seungmin is beautiful. 

Jeongin freezes. His breath catches in his throat. His hands go weak, and the cup slips out of his fingers and falls to the rug beneath his feet.

“Oh! Sorry,” Jeongin gasps, hurrying to pick it up before it spills completely.

“It’s fine,” Seungmin replies, already out of his seat. “Here, let me.” He calmly takes the cup, which thankfully didn’t break, from Jeongin’s hand. 

Their fingers brush for a fraction of a second, and Jeongin nearly freezes again.

Seungmin blinks at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin replies way too quickly, forcing his wide eyes to return to a normal size. He looks away before he gets distracted by Seungmin’s face again. What the Hell is my problem? 

“I’m gonna get something to soak that up,” Seungmin says, referring to the rug that’s now steeping. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he’s out of the room, Jeongin presses his hands to his face, trying to pull himself together. He must be overwhelmed by all the different emotions he’s gone through in the last few minutes, it’s making him jittery or something. 

“Do you want another cup?” Seungmin calls from the kitchen. “I’ll make you one.”

“Uh,” Jeongin tries to think of some excuse. “I told Lee Know I’d help him clean up after dinner, so I think I’d better get going,” he lies. He bites his lip, hoping that was convincing.

“Oh, okay,” Seungmin replies, poking his head back into the living room. “I won’t keep you, then. Let me walk you out.”

Jeongin manages not to lose it on the short trip to the front door. He thanks Seungmin for the tea and the talk, and starts his walk back to The Saloon.

What’s going on with me? He exhales shakily. The fluttery, dizzy feeling lingers, his face is still warm. It’s like he’s giddy. Of course he is! He just resolved a serious falling-out with his best friend, why wouldn’t he be giddy? It makes total sense.

But what doesn’t make sense is the fact that he’s still thinking about Seungmin’s stupid face and his stupid smile and the stupid way his hand brushed over Jeongin’s and what it might feel like if he did that again. Those things, undeniably, correlate to the giddiness. 

Oh no. 

Jeongin doesn’t want to admit it. He really doesn’t want to admit it. But it’s not like he can deny it now, and he definitely isn’t going to be able to ignore it.

He might, maybe, have a tiny little crush on Seungmin.

~~~

Chris raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Run that by me again.”

Lee Know groans, rolling his eyes as he leans lazily against the bar. “For the last time. She showed up here last night, she said she was lookin’ for a place to work and a room, so I told her she could stay. I think she’s coming from a bad situation.”

Yeah, I’ll say, Chris thinks. “And you’ve learned no other details about her?” 

“Not like I was gonna ask for her whole life’s story,” Lee Know drawls. “Is Jay Park not a hospitable enough place to welcome a poor girl in need of a place to stay? Or did she look dangerous to you?”

“I just wanna make sure you know exactly what kinda stray you’re taking in,” Chris replies, lifting a defensive hand.

“Well then you’ll have to trust my judgment, Sheriff,” Lee Know says pointedly, raising an eyebrow. “I decided to take her on and I have my reasons for doing so. Any other questions, or is the interrogation finished?”

“Come on,” Chris scoffs. “You know I wouldn’t make you change your mind. If you say Felly’s alright, then she’s alright.”

“Good,” Lee Know nods. “Now get the Hell out of my bar, we’re gonna open soon.”

“Fine,” Chris says, turning to leave. “Tell Felly I said welcome to town,” he adds, giving Lee Know a wink over his shoulder.

On his way back to the Sheriff’s Station, Chris thinks back to when he met Felly yesterday. It was only her first day in town, but already Chris could tell there was something off about her. Something about the story Lee Know gave, and the way she showed up so suddenly, and even her face.

Chris isn’t the type to be paranoid about duplicitous figures in this place. After all, his own roommate doesn’t have the cleanest record. But he does take the safety of his town seriously, so he listened to his gut and did his own digging on Felly last night. And sure enough, he was right.

He opens the door to the office, hoping he’ll have a moment to clear off his desk before Seungmin comes in.

Atop the mess of papers is one flyer, slightly crumpled from when he’d filed it away weeks ago. But after he met Felly, her face stuck in his mind, and he remembered this poster. The name on it is different, but the face is undoubtedly the same. It’s a wanted poster.

He doesn’t know how exactly Felly ended up here, but he trusts Lee Know, and he’s not terribly bothered by the information he’s dug up. Regardless of her past, he’s decided Felly can stay.

Felix Lee, he thinks. Welcome to Jay Park.

He crumples the poster and tosses it into the trash can beneath his desk.

~~~

Chris sighs. Having watched Jinnie run off, he sits down next to Changbin. 

The ex-gunfighter is mumbling to himself, wringing his hands and glancing off at where Jinnie disappeared to. Chris lays a careful hand on his shoulder in support (even though he feels a bit world-weary himself). 

“What?” he says, looking over at the Sheriff. 

Chris shakes his head. He is not really sure there is much he can say to help the situation. 

All at once, realization dawns on Binnie like a brick to the face. 

“Oh, shit! Wait, you weren’t supposed to know about Felly. Shit!” Binnie scrambles away, falling unceremoniously over. 

“Was anyone supposed to know about Felly?” Wooyoung pipes up from across the way, reminding Chris of the present company and just how they got into this mess in the first place.

Binnie levels Wooyoung with a glare. “Will you quit? Ugh.” 

Chris reaches out to pull Binnie up and for the first time ever, Binnie hesitates to accept it. It makes Chris tense. 

“You weren’t supposed to know,” he says in a small voice, so only Chris can hear.

“I’ve always known.” Chris pulls him up and into a hug that makes Wooyoung coo. “It’s never been a problem for me.” 

Chris feels Binnie sag in relief, letting go of all the tension he’s held since Wooyoung started yapping. So Chris pulls him in tighter and hopes to provide more relief. 

“God, yeah, yeah, I figured you had,” Changbin mumbles into his shirt collar. “God, but with everything going on. And Jinnie. Jesus, I’m so keyed up.” 

He starts rubbing circles into his back, nodding along to what Binnie is saying despite the fact that it goes unseen by everyone except the audience of ATEEZ members who are beginning to clear out, making themselves look busy, and Han who has remained frozen in his seat since all this happened. 

“It’s okay, bub,” Chris whispers into Binnie’s curls. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

“I just miss him so much, Chris.” It’s not quite a sob, but Chris feels the tears on his neck. “I wish he was here. I wish he could talk to Jinnie.” 

Chris sighs again, cursing at the fact that his hands are tied until they can act.

God, how he wishes Felix was here too. Chris knows that he knows just what to say to Jinnie, that he could loosen all Changbin’s nerves in a single touch, that Han would be just a little less scared, and that Chris would feel a lot more at peace.

Maybe if he was here, if he knew Chris knew, Felix wouldn’t be so skittish around him. Maybe he would trust him, finally. Maybe if he was here Chris would deserve that trust because if that was the case, all of his kids would be together, would be safe. 

As it stands, Chris has broken the promise he made to himself from the very beginning. He swore to protect all of these kids. Now everything seems to be falling apart at the seams. 

Who Felly or Felix is doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting him back home, bringing everyone back together. Chris is not going to leave him behind, whoever he is. 

~~~

Felix has been trying to sleep. There isn’t much else to do, when you’re being held captive.

The men have made their camp tonight in an empty barn outside the limits of some small town nearby. It’s here that Felix has remained for the last few hours, his hands and feet bound. He’s trying to save what little energy he has, knowing that next time they break camp, he might get a chance to escape.

Stirring him out of his attempts to rest, a brash voice enters to announce, “There’s bad news, boys. Word in town is that there’s a group headed south coming from up near Jay Park. I’m pretty sure it’s Rich Boy, but he’s not alone. I think they’ll be ready to put up a fight.”

Felix cracks an eye open, sitting up. A group from Jay Park? My friends?

“Guess he likes his little boyfriend enough to try and take him back,” someone says, raising an eyebrow in Felix’s direction. 

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Felix snaps. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

The man scoffs and a few others laugh, but Felix ignores them. “Gee, it’s a good thing you’re pretty,” the man says. “Clearly Rich Boy doesn’t like you for your brains. We’re talking about the Hwang kid, your little beau from New Orleans.”

Wait. Felix’s muscles go slack as he makes the connection. Jinnie is Rich Boy? Jinnie’s coming here?

“Well, shit,” one of the other men says, “we’d better clear out of here by tomorrow morning if we still want a chance to cash in on that bounty.”

“No, no,” a different man chimes in, “I’ve been tellin’ you, we’ve gotta talk to the Hwang kid first. There’s no reason we can’t get paid and get the bounty, but we’ve gotta get the original job done first. If we can do that here, what’s the difference?”

“Yeah,” another echoes, “if he’s coming right to us, why not handle it sooner rather than later?”

Before he can think better of it, Felix raises his voice to ask, “What’re you gonna do with him?” 

Everyone turns to look at him, some of the men snickering at his question. 

“Drag his ass back to New Orleans, of course!” the first man laughs, “That’s what we’re gettin’ paid to do. You were only supposed to be the bait, sweetheart, it’s just that your bounty is too good of a bonus to pass up.”  

Oh. Felix goes slack as the pieces fit together. So that’s why they took me. They had to lure Jinnie out.

“Or,” another man pipes up, “we can see how much Rich Boy would be willing to pay for his own freedom. I’ll bet it’s a pretty high price.”

“That’s the stupidest idea we’ve had yet!” someone says back. “Whatever he’s got is probably nothing compared to daddy’s money.”

The voices start to overlap, arguing over whether they should turn Felix in as soon as they can, hold out for the payment they were promised, or something else altogether. As he listens, Felix's mind moves rapidly through the possibilities.

God, I wish I knew what was going on, he thinks desperately. 

For some reason, these men have been hired to take Jinnie back to New Orleans, but Felix doesn’t need all the details. He’s sure, he’s absolutely certain that Jinnie would never want to go back home under this kind of circumstance, and certainly not by force.

Felix feels responsible for so many other problems, but maybe he can do something to help Jinnie. Maybe he has a unique opportunity, here and now, to keep Jinnie from being taken away from his new home.

Regardless of their initial purpose, the only thing these men are after is money. The only question is how much, and how they’ll get it. Felix is a living, breathing check, and even though he has nothing else to bargain with, he has himself.

If I can’t do anything else, at least I’ll screw up whatever chance they have of taking Jinnie.

As the night gets darker and later, the men start going to sleep and taking shifts on watch. Felix bides his time, staying still, waiting until no one pays attention to him anymore. 

When they made their camp here earlier today, Felix knew he should be prepared to make a run for it. It’s time to find out if his plans hold water.

For almost an hour now, Felix has slowly worked against the rope that binds his wrists. The man who tied him must not have noticed how small Felix’s hands are. He’s able to grasp at the ropes with his fingertips, trying to dismantle the knot. It takes ages, but he finally loosens the vice enough to free his right hand.

Quickly, he reaches around to unfasten the ropes at his ankles. Adrenaline already rushes through his system, but he tries to stay calm.

He knows that in this barn, there are stall doors that open to the outside, though they may not be open now. The men on watch are close to the barn’s front entrance, more worried about anyone on the outside than the inside.

As soundlessly as possible, Felix rises from his place on the ground, backing away from where the rest of the men sleep, carefully making his way to the nearest stall.

It’s half boarded-up, but Felix squeezes in. In the dark, he feels along the opposite wall until his fingers find a hinge.

Yes! He stifles a sigh of relief, searching for a latch that can get this door open. He’s lucky enough to find one, but the cold metal is powdery and scratchy to the touch, and Felix realizes it’s rusted shut. For good measure he tries to pry it free, but it won’t budge.

Fuck! Felix bites his lip, turning back the way he came. He’ll have to try his luck with the next stall. Hopefully he hasn’t wasted too much time already.

As he squeezes back out, he keeps his eyes trained on where the men still lie asleep. It doesn’t look like anyone’s noticed that he’s gone, which is—

“Where are you running off to, little lady?”

Gasping, Felix whirls to find someone standing over him. He pushes himself off the ground, scrambling to get away.

“Hey!” the man shouts, and one of the watchmen by the door snaps to attention.

Shit! Felix dashes for the door, no plan left to fall back on, hoping he can move fast enough to outrun the watchman now coming towards him. But his nightgown snags around his legs. Damn it!

He stumbles, hitting the dirt, trying to get up again, but the watchman is approaching, he’s holding something, and the last thing Felix sees is a board swinging at his face.

After that, it’s lights out.

Chapter Text

16:22 18.10.1897 [MINHO]

Bartending is boring, tedious work when there’s no one to talk to, and Minho has seriously wished for some lively conversation for the last few days. But this is not the change he’d had in mind.

“Hang on,” Minho repeats for what feels like the hundredth time to the four men sitting across from him. “You still haven’t told me what the Hell you’re doing here. And where are the rest of you?”

“I’m getting there!” Wooyoung exclaims, waving his hand dismissively. “This is all gonna be important, I promise—”

“It’s not that important,” Seonghwa interjects next to him. “If I was telling this story, I would start from when we left town the other day.”

Wooyoung huffs. “It’s my story, and I’m gonna tell it how I want!”

“Can I get a drink before this story starts?” Jongho asks from another seat over, raising his hand. “This is gonna take all day.”

“Yeah, sure,” Minho sighs, begrudgingly doing his job. “Yeosang, do you want anything?”

From beside Jongho, Yeosang blinks and glances at the rest of them. “Sorry, what were you saying?” he asks. 

“Nothing important,” Minho assures him. He already knows what these guys like to drink anyway, so he quits with the questions and gets their drinks. Once that’s out of the way, maybe they’ll finally answer some questions.

Out of all his former colleagues, past connections, and old friends, Minho really shouldn’t be surprised that half of ATEEZ would drop into Jay Park on a random Monday afternoon. They’re always doing the unexpected. Nevertheless, he hadn’t expected to see them again, let alone in this town. And for the life of him, he can’t get a clear answer on why they’re here.

He’s still getting their drinks when he hears Seungmin’s voice descending the stairs. “Hey Lee Know, have you seen—” he halts as he notices the four men sitting at the bar.

“Can you not stop in the middle of the stairs?” complains Jeongin’s voice behind him. “I’m trying to—oh.” 

Minho gestures to the men sitting before him. “Seungmin, Jeongin, these are some of my old friends. Supposedly they’re about to tell me the story of a lifetime, if Wooyoung ever gets around to it.”

Wooyoung brightens, waving them over as the other three nod polite greetings. “Come sit!” he says. “You guys’ll wanna hear this too.”

“I’m getting old and dying,” Minho says flatly. 

“Okay, okay. The most important thing is that we met some of your friends! Well actually, I’ve known Changbin forever, but we met the sheriff and the other guys too! That’s why only four of us are here.”

“Wait.” Minho’s eyes snap up to Seugnmin and Jeongin, who both frown at him. His interest sparks, but he’s confused. “You met who exactly?”

“Doing what?” Seungmin asks.

“And where?” Jeongin chimes in.

Jongho cuts Wooyoung off before he can get going again, saying. “Don’t worry, they were all intact when we left them. Our captain helped them make a plan about how to get your other friend back.”

“And the other four of us stayed behind to help,” Seonghwa adds. 

“Oh man, it was a whole ordeal,” Wooyoung groans. “Like, we had to make the whole plan and then we had to decide who was staying and who was leaving, ‘cause we still had business to take care of, so some of us had to keep going—”

“It would’ve been a lot easier if you and San hadn’t taken so long to say your mushy goodbyes,” Yeosang observes passively.

Seonghwa smirks, “Ooh, he’s not wrong.”

“You and Hongjoong weren’t much better,” Yeosang says, and Jongho hides a smile. 

“Wait,” Minho interjects again, shaking his head. He needs some clarity, he doesn’t want to misunderstand whatever is going on here. “What do you mean, ‘plan?’ What exactly happened? Did they get Felix back or not?”

“I’m getting there,” Wooyoung says. “Look, why don’t you just let me tell the story? I’ll tell you how everything happened.”

“So they did save Felix?” Seungmin asks. “You were there?”

“No, we left after we made the plan,” Seonghwa clarifies, “but by now, it should all be over.”

“No,” Wooyoung echoes emphatically, “I can give you every detail, trust me. We know the whole plan, and I know Changbin so well I can practically predict his every move. I’ll tell you how it all went down.”

Seungmin and Jeongin have settled in at the other end of the bar, looking both confused and eager. Minho feels his own anticipation bubbling over, desperate for any information about their friends. Whatever Wooyoung and the others can offer, he wants to hear it.

“Go on, then,” he prompts. “You’ve kept us waiting long enough. Tell us how it went.”

“Alright!” Wooyoung grins. “Get comfortable. So, according to the plan . . .”

~~~

05:29 17.10.1897 [WOOYOUNG]

The daylight is long gone, the sun fading behind scrubby trees on the distant horizon. Having made their plans and broken camp, Wooyoung and his fraction of the team continue on west to do the work they came for. Meanwhile, Hongjoong, Yunho, Mingi, San, and the guys from Jay Park close in on the bounty hunters’ hideout further south.

Traveling at night is a risk for most people, but that’s never stopped ATEEZ before. It’s like Wooyoung always says, danger doesn’t run from danger.

Hongjoong is a genius of chaos; his web of a plan for this invasion is just solid enough to hold itself up, and just loose enough to stretch if they get into a bind. They find the barn almost two hours before dawn—they’re tired from overnight traveling, but they’ve got a chance to catch the bounty hunters off guard.

There’s at least thirty men, maybe more, and they’ve heavily fortified the empty barn. Several men, armed to the teeth, patrol its perimeter outside. Wooyoung can only imagine what awaits them within.

~~~

16:41 18.10.1897 [MINHO]

Seonghwa holds up a hand to make Wooyoung pause. “I’d like to point out that you can only imagine, because none of us were actually there. And thirty men is a stretch, even for this story.”

Minho had just been thinking that, but he wasn’t about to interrupt. Across from him, Jeongin asks, “How much of this stuff is verifiably true?”

“Slim to none,” Jongho replies. “And Wooyoung, when have you ever said ‘danger doesn’t run from danger?’ Did you make that up just now?”

Wooyoung huffs a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “You guys are crushing my artistic expression. Just be quiet and let me tell the story!”

~~~

05:35 17.10.1897 [WOOYOUNG]

Felix is somewhere inside, but they can’t expect to succeed if they just storm the place head-on. Instead, they’ve got a few tricks up their sleeves. They stay hidden at first, and after a few key designs are set up, Hongjoong gives the signal and the dominos begin to fall.

It starts with just a few shots—Hongjoong, with his sharpshooting ability, picking off the guards from yards and yards away. After the second or third man falls, the others spread out, growing frantic as they search for the unseen assailant.

In the midst of that, Yunho and Mingi dive in. 

Yunho charges first for the horses and supplies outside the barn while Mingi is on defense, covering his back. They don’t attack outright, but all it takes is one man to spot them and raise the alarm, crying out that they’re being robbed.

Suddenly the air is filled with shouting as the men swarm them. Shots ring out through the dark, sparks and gunsmoke filling the air as the men try to chase them down.

 But beyond the confusion and bedlam that breaks out, another key piece slides into place. 

Han is already inside the barn, having found a way in before the shooting started. In the dead quiet that preceded the storm, he slipped in completely unseen, climbing the gutters on the back wall and dropping in through a breach in the run-down roof. Unlike the others, his plan is neither a distraction nor an extraction. It’s a conclusion. 

He carries no less than ten pounds of dynamite on his person—strapped to his back, stuffed into his boots, anywhere it fits—and he’s about to lace the entire building with it.

Once the distraction begins, Han starts moving. He steps stealthily through the rafters, peering down at the men below as they break into action. Finding his balance, Han perches and begins to tie down the first few sticks, winding longer fuses onto each cylinder.

As he gets to work, unnoticed above the havoc, Han grins to himself. These guys have no idea what’s coming to them.

~~~

05:29 17.10.1897 [HAN]

When they arrive at the barn, it’s so late that it’s early, the sun not quite rising yet. They’ve been traveling all night, but Han doesn’t mind that. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.

It seems like ages ago that they first met ATEEZ, but it was only yesterday evening. Han has been on edge since long before that, but now he’s even more fidgety and nervous. They’re so close to saving Felix.

At least a hundred yards away, they stop and hitch their horses. They form a loose circle and run through the logistics of the plan one final time, having changed a few details from the initial idea. When they made the blueprint yesterday, Han didn’t really expect to be included in it, since lately he’s messed up so much and so badly. But to his surprise, the role he was given for this morning’s operation is a load-bearing one. That doesn’t make him any less nervous.

But ATEEZ must pull crazy stunts like this all the time, because they talk and carry on like everything is normal. Next to Han, Yunho, Mingi, and San are practically jovial. Like they aren’t about to do something dangerous or risky in the least. 

In contrast, Binnie is quiet and focused, lost in thought towards the edge of the pack and Jinnie just acts completely distant. 

Han feels terrible about that. No matter what, he would never have given away Felix’s secret, but he wishes Jinnie had known sooner. That he didn’t have to find out like this. In other circumstances, Han would’ve acted goofy or tried to be talkative to cheer him up, but he knows that won’t help right now. Hopefully Jinnie can at least focus on what they’re about to do.

“Remember,” Hongjoong is saying, “the main goal is to divert attention, not to engage. If we stick to that, we can avoid any serious conflict or casualties.”

“Right,” Chris agrees, exchanging a nod with him. “So everyone knows what they’re gonna be doing? Any last questions?”

With the okay from the rest of the team, they set the plan in motion.

Han swallows his nerves as he and Jinnie go first, keeping silent and moving quickly. They’re headed for the backside of the barn, where they’ll try to find a way in that won’t alert anyone to their presence.

At the same time, Hongjoong is somewhere on the barn’s opposite side, but much further away. He’ll find a higher vantage point, either among the surrounding hills or the trees, to protect the rest of the team at the barn’s front entrance.

Han tries to keep an eye on how many men are guarding the hideout. His stomach tightens as he spots one, and then another. But there’s only two from what he can tell, so there may not be many more inside.

Maybe we’ll get lucky, he thinks.

As they make their approach, Han gestures for Jinnie to slow down. He watches as the guards pace and loiter near the entrance, both talking idly. He traces their movements for a moment and makes sure there’s no one else outside. When he’s certain they aren’t paying attention, he waves Jinnie on to follow him.

Moving slowly at first, they pick up the pace once they’re out of the guards’ sight range. They get right up to the side of the barn without any trouble.

“That was surprisingly easy,” Jinnie whispers, frowning.

“Don’t say that yet,” Han warns. They need to work quickly now.

He surveys the wall. There’s several stall doors that face the outside, but all of them are closed, some boarded up and some rusted shut. There are places where the boards are weak, but they probably couldn’t be broken in any subtle or quiet way.

“Let’s go to the back wall,” Han says, and Jinnie nods for him to lead the way.

The back wall has two large sliding doors, but that’s not any help. If they can’t find a covert entrance, they’ll have to take on the front with the others.

But Han’s not convinced this is it. He looks up, finding two windows above where the hayloft is. They’re too tall to reach, but . . . 

“Do you think you could boost me up to reach those?” he asks, taking off his hat.

“What?” Jinnie blinks at him, then up at the windows. “You want me to pick you up?”

“No, let me stand on your shoulders!” Han whisper-yells, growing impatient. They can’t spend too much time back here. The rest of the team should be making their moves soon. 

Jinnie makes a face. “I don’t think we can do that.”

“Just try!” Han insists.

A moment later, Jinnie is braced against the wall with Han’s boots digging into his shoulders as he stretches up to reach the ledge. So far he can’t hear any gunshots or screaming from his friends, so they must not be running late yet.

“This is actually really easy,” Jinnie mutters, sounding surprised. “Can you reach?”

“Not yet, give me a second . . .”

Han leans tentatively on the wall, eye-level with the window. It’s completely shut and rusted, but this building is old and doesn’t have gutters, so the glass should be weak from moisture damage. He carefully takes the pistol from his hip, holding it by the barrel, and smacks it against the glass like a hammer.

Spiderweb cracks bust across the windowpane, weakening it easily enough for Han to break through it in one more go. Thankfully, it isn’t even that loud.

“Hurry up!” Jinnie urges him. “And quit raining glass on me!”

“I need to jump to get through here,” Han tells him, taking a deep breath. “Try not to move around too much.”

“Are you sure you wanna—”

Steeling himself, Han bends his knees and launches himself up. He dives as far as he can through the window and catches himself at chest level. He wriggles the rest of the way in, feeling the glass shards scrape his stomach as he tumbles to the floor of the hayloft.

Panting, he sits up, glancing around in the dark at the empty loft. He looks back down out the window.

Jinnie stares up at him. He opens his mouth, but Han makes a shushing motion. Jinnie then makes a gesture like, what now? Han holds up a finger, telling him to wait. 

He turns back to the loft, feeling blindly as his vision adjusts. At first nothing but straw and broken glass poke his hands, but there must be something around here he can use. Towards the wall, he finds something that looks like a lead rope. Perfect. Hopefully it’s long enough to lower down to Jinnie.

Untangling the rope, he moves back to the window, realizing with surprise that they might actually succeed with their leg of the plan.

The sudden sound of gunshots makes him flinch.

“Shit!” he hisses, dropping the rope. Voices downstairs start yelling in alarm and confusion. More gunfire, loud and close. People shouting outside. His heart pounds.

“What’s going on!?” he hears someone demand. “Are they coming for the kid?”

“We’re being robbed!” another voice cries.

I have to hurry. Han grabs the rope again, fumbling as he tries to untangle it, realizing his hands are bleeding from the glass but trying to ignore that, trying to take deep breaths and remember what he’s supposed to be doing, he doesn’t want to mess this up now. Blood rushes in his ears. I have to hurry. I have to hurry.

“Han!” he hears Jinnie’s voice call in between swells of noise. “Are you there?”

He’s about to call back, “I’m here!” but another jarring burst of gunfire chokes him. From here he can’t see what’s going on downstairs. How many people are there? Do they know he’s here? Should he hide? He tries to get a grip on the rope but it keeps slipping out of his hands, his hands are shaking, what’s going on?

“Jisung!” someone shouts. “Jisung!”

Han gasps. His head snaps up, vision suddenly clearing. He whirls around toward the window and looks out to meet Jinnie’s frantic eyes. What did he just say? 

“Han!” Jinnie yells up to him, his voice carrying over the commotion. “Can you get me in?”

The spell is broken. Without another thought, Han tosses one end of the rope out and braces his legs against the wall. Jinnie’s weight begins pulling against the rope and he climbs it in a matter of seconds, falling into the loft with a grunt.

He rights himself instantly. “Come on,” he says, “we need to look for Felix while they’re distracted. Before they—” he stops, suddenly frowning. “Are you okay?”

Han’s brain is miles away, caught up in some other moment in some other place and time. “What did you call me a second ago?” he breathes. He can still hear the name ringing in his ears.

“Han?” Jinnie replies, but it’s unclear if it’s a question or an answer. He shakes his head, grabbing Han by the shoulder. “We need to go,” he repeats, looking him in the eye until he returns a nod.

With that, Jinnie presses on, quickly finding his way down the ladder into the barn.

Han’s body moves, but his mind still races, adrenaline lapping at his muscles. Did he imagine that just now? Was that real?

“Hurry!” Jinnie hisses back at him.

This is not the time. Han can worry about this later. He shakes his head, blinking back to reality, remembering what they’re here to do. They’re here for Felix. He follows Jinnie down, hidden in the shadows and darkness of the barn.

He tries to refocus on the matter at hand. No matter how strange any of this may feel, it’s happening, and it’s real.

~~~

05:46 17.10.1897 [WOOYOUNG]

That’s when San enters the fray. He wastes no time, a blazing gun in one hand and a knife in the other, drawing fire away from Yunho and Mingi as the men close in on them. Mingi is like a whirlwind, he barely needs to aim, making rapid shots in every direction from the two pistols he wields. And Hongjoong is still sniping from further away. Between him, Mingi, and San, no one comes close to catching Yunho as he cuts the horses loose.

In the middle of that, hardly anyone is left to guard the door. Changbin and Jinnie make their move.

Jinnie goes first, beelining for the front entrance. Changbin is on his heels with a rifle, taking out approaching enemies without even slowing down. But when they reach the doors, locked and barred from within, they can’t work fast enough.

Their gunfire draws attention from the remaining men, alerting them to the break-in. Changbin scrambles to reload, leaving Jinnie to deal with the door while he deals with their assailants.

Each shot is rapid-fire. Each approaching target falls in an instant. Changbin wastes no time, lining up every move like it’s instinctive and never hesitating in between. Three men approach from his right, and without batting an eye he takes aim and drops them all with a single bullet.

But more and more bodies are moving toward them, and Binnie can’t keep up this on his own.

Dodging bullets, he keeps shooting and moves away from the door, trying to bait the men away from Jinnie. He only hopes he can draw them off long enough for him to get inside, but there are too many for this to last long.

Jinnie yelps as he’s nearly hit by a shot from above, and Changbin realizes there’s someone aiming down at them from the barn’s loft.

“We need backup!” he hollers. “God, I wish Wooyoung was here!”

From behind him a voice yells, “Duck!” and Changbin hits the dirt, watching a bullet whiz past him to take out the unseen shooter above. He risks a fleeting glance backward to see Chris, his gun aimed at the loft, just joining the fight.

Changbin resists the urge to smile. The tide might be turning, but this isn’t over yet.

~~~

05:40 17.10.1897 [CHANGBIN]

Changbin looks down at the pistol in his hand and fiddles with the chamber a bit more. It’s a nervous habit. Something he used to do before every kill. Now though, the habit is exacerbated by the fact that he’s out of practice and out of time.

Felix needs him.

And Changbin knows this. He knows that he is on the precipice of once again losing someone he cares so much about. He feels it like the ache in his shoulder. He just doesn’t know if this will all shake out like they have planned. Especially with him behind a gun.

Normally, had this been in any other instance, Changbin would be good at sticking to his guns (literally) and following his principles.

 Back before everything started, back before there ever was a gun in his hand, his mom had a nickname for him, Jutdae, man of principle. His sister had always teased him for it, claiming he was hardly a man at all, but Changbin loved it. He’d always puff up his chest. His grin, toothy and wide.

Now, all that's left of his Jutdae legacy are his pistols. Jut is the one that lays in his hands now while Dae burns a hole in his hip. There is no telling if he’ll be able to use them. If he’ll be as good as he once was. But he has to try, for Felix.

“That’s the signal,” Chris nudges him. “You good, bub?”

It shakes Changbin out of the daze he’s been in, and he steels his grip on his pistol. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Was that Yunho?” 

Changbin tries to peer around Chris to spot him, but Yunho’s already gone. Which makes sense. They have a distraction to stage. They were meant to take out the guards surrounding the barn and let Chris and him know the coast was clear before they got to their performance.

“Yeah, it's showtime,” Chris says, grinning as he checks over his gun in a way that belies his own nerves. 

Changbin grunts in response, feeling very much the same. He also fiddles with his gun one last time, making sure the safety is off. 

They are heading to the doors in the next moment. There, they both pause. Once again waiting for ATEEZ. For a second, a brief and unremarkable second, Changbin wishes Wooyoung was here with them. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. 

A shot rings out. Then another. 

Finally, Mingi’s siren. They’re staging a raid. 

Changbin can hear from beyond the door some startled cries and frantic commotion. He looks towards Chris, and they share a nod. Now’s their moment. 

Chris pulls the door open and Changbin charges in, guns ablaze. 

He makes sure to aim low and avoid any vital parts. Chris had had a serious talk about him avoiding any fatal accidents. They are just here to get Felix and get out, no use killing someone just doing their job. While Changbin might have disagreed, he knows objectively Felix would be upset about it anyway. 

Changbin loses sight of Chris early on in the fight, but he’s not worried. Chris can handle himself, and they were always meant to split up. His job is to find Han. Changbin, on the other hand, is focused on dealing with these chumps, finding Jinnie and Felix, and getting the Hell out of here. 

He takes a deep breath. Maybe it's the adrenaline coursing through his system, but for the moment, he can’t feel the ache in his shoulder. 

Changbin fires another shot at some bald goon, and then reaches for his second pistol.

Dae joins Jut. Jutdae together again. It’s almost poetic. 

~~~

05:55 17.10.1897 [WOOYOUNG]

Finally, Jinnie is able to get the door open and calls for Changbin to cover him. With Chris at their back, they charge into the barn.

There are at least a dozen men still inside, ready and waiting. Jinnie tumbles out of the way as they open fire, leaping past the men and disappearing into the depths of the barn. Binnie takes cover, he and Chris scrambling to defend against the onslaught inside and out.

It’s impossible to hold their position, and the two of them start to fall back. But suddenly, whoops of excitement and shouts of confusion cut through the gunfire. 

It’s the horses that Yunho cut loose. Spooked by the chaos and noise, they gallop through the throng of fighting, frantically chased by the men they belong to, interrupting the momentum of the fight.

And even better, San appears outside the barn, his gun freshly loaded and his knife slashing wildly at anyone within range. Catching the men off guard, he takes out just enough of those remaining outside to give Chris and Changbin room to charge in.

The timing has changed, giving them an advantage over the bounty hunters who guard the inside, plunging in and staggering past the men and their defenses. But now that they’ve lost sight of Jinnie, how will they know if he’s found Felix?

Chris is about to call out for them when a voice from the loft cries, “The fuse is too short!”

It’s Han. Changbin nearly drops his rifle, wide eyes meeting Chris’s.

Again, Han’s voice cries, “Run! The fuse is too short! Get out of here!”

In the midst of the frenzy, Changbin grabs Chris and starts to run for the door, nearly tripping over fallen men and dodging the ones still shooting at him, when he stops in his tracks.

“What about Jinnie!?” he yells. 

“We have to get out of here!” shouts San, who grabs Chris by the shoulder as he starts to run, but Jinnie still isn’t out. Ahead of them, Yunho looks back with panic, struggling as he drags a half-conscious Mingi towards the rendezvous point. Everything has happened so fast, and now it’s all falling apart.

“You go first!” Chris insists. “We have to wait for Jinnie!” San nods, running on to help Yunho. Chris risks a glance behind them, and his eyes widen. “Hurry!” he shouts, grabbing Changbin and pulling him onward.

He can’t see what Chris is looking at, but as they stumble out of the barn he realizes Jinnie is behind them, carrying a half-conscious Felix in his arms.

“Is Han still inside?” Chris asks, but the man in question appears, his one eye wide and worried, running as fast as he can. He motions for them to keep going, and together, they scatter and flee from the impending destruction, leaving unaware enemies within.

They’ve just barely made it out of range when the barn explodes. Flames, smoke, and debris fly overhead. Changbin and Chris, still clutching each other, Felix weakly clinging onto Jinnie, and Han flinging himself forward with all his strength; they’re all shoved to the ground with the force of the explosion. 

As his ears ring and the smoke clears, Chris picks his head up and lifts a hand, waving the OK signal. Through watering eyes, he sees Hongjoong wave it back from afar. On the horizon, the sun rises over scrubby trees. They’ve made it.

~~~

16:57 18.10.1897 [MINHO]

At the conclusion of his story, Wooyoung proudly crosses his arms in the dramatic silence that follows. Minho waits a few seconds to make sure he’s done. 

“Well, that was certainly a story,” Jongho remarks. He and the others have been listening in various states of skepticism, excluding Yeosang, who probably stopped listening sometime in the first three minutes.

Down the bar, Minho meets the narrowed eyes of Jeongin and Seungmin, asking, “Do y’all wanna go first, or should I?” 

Seungmin hums. “I’ll save my comments. You go first.”

He nods. “Right. So, number one, Binnie doesn’t use a rifle anymore. And personally I doubt he would’ve said ‘God, I wish Wooyoung was here.’”

Wooyoung throws his hands up, groaning. “Ugh! You guys get so hung up on the littlest details!”

“I’m hung up on the dynamite, too,” Jeongin says, “which seems like a pretty big detail.”

“Yeah,” Minho says, “Chris would never leave Han to handle dynamite alone.”

“And why’d you make Binnie the main character?” Seonghwa asks. “You’re supposed to be a member of ATEEZ, and they barely got any attention!”

“Wh—how can you say that?” Wooyoung asks, offended. “San was dual wielding a knife and a gun! That’s so badass!”

“Hongjoong wasn’t even there,” Jongho points out. “You had him offstage the whole time.”

Heaving a sigh, Wooyoung shakes his head. “Do you know how hard it is to tell a story with eight main characters? Some parts had to be smaller, and I stand by that.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Fine. But I also don’t think Jinnie would carry Felix out bridal style. Like, come on. That’s a little far-fetched.”

“Yeah,” Jeongin echoes, “could he even run fast enough like that?”

“I think he would’ve carried him over his shoulder instead,” Seungmin agrees.

Wooyoung makes a face. “Okay, no. I’m sticking to my guns on that one. Sure, the dual-wielding is kinda crazy, and sure, maybe Binnie wouldn’t actually be able to shoot three guys with one bullet, but the bridal carry totally happened. Was there anything about the story you guys don’t wanna argue with?”

“I mean, you did have some parts of the plan,” Seonghwa offers helpfully. “Even though you grossly exaggerated most of them.”

“Thank you,” Wooyoung nods. He turns to Yeosang. “You’ve been awfully quiet, do you have anything to add?”

Yeosang blinks. “Um, no. I think it was good.”

“Finally! This is the kind of audience engagement I was looking for.”

As they continue to pick apart the various unbelievable details of Wooyoung’s story, Minho finds himself more at ease than before. No matter how outrageous it was, there was some truth about the plan he relayed. Still, there’s no telling how much of Wooyoung’s story reflects what actually may have happened. Minho supposes he’ll have to just keep waiting and find out when his friends return.

~~~

05:42 17.10.1897 [HYUNJIN]

Hyunjin is frozen. He is frozen when he really ought not to be. With all the chaos moving around him and the very pressing urgency of his task, he should be jumping into motion and speeding right along with the whole process. But instead, here he stands as if encased in ice. 

The very image that has him pinned is Felly, no, Felix, lying not a few feet ahead of him in the stall. Hyunjin had thought, with all these revelations, with everything he had learned, the image would somehow be different. 

How could he have been so naive? 

He still has Felly’s freckles and her cute nose. He still has her bright blonde hair (though at this moment it looks worse for wear). Felix is still Felly. Nothing has changed. 

Hyunjin unfreezes, moved by the urge to feel that what he is seeing is real. 

He crouches down by Felix’s side and pushes a lock of his hair behind his ear. The relief that courses through him at his touch is almost palpable. He feels it in his bones. He can’t help the soft kiss he places on his head. 

“Wha–” Felix blinks his eyes open, slowly, like a cat. 

Hyunjin blinks back in response. 

“Jinnie?” Felix, voice gravely and hoarse, moves to get up.

Well, that's new , he thinks, still blinking. 

“Jinnie!” Bin stumbles into the stall, shouldering the door open with his arm as his hand grips his hurt shoulder. “What’s the hold up, darlin’?’” 

“Binnie!?” Felix calls at the sound of his voice. 

Hyunjin watches as Binnie’s face softens. They both turn to look at the man in question, and Hyunjin knows that his face is probably in much the same state as Bin’s. 

“We are here to take you home, Felix.” Hyunjin reaches over to pat down his hair again. “Don’t worry.” 

Felix’s eyes blow wide at the use of his name. Hyunjin sees more than hears the gasp he lets out. Still, he clings on tight as he moves to scoop him up into his arms. 

“Let’s get out of here,” says Binnie with one last longing look at Felix whose face is tucked into Hyujin’s chest. 

Hyunjin wonders if he can hear his frantically beating heart. If so, he hopes Felix attributes it to adrenaline and nothing else. And adrenaline certainly is part of the reason, sure. It wouldn’t be far off. Just not the full truth. 

Whatever. 

Hyunjin grips Felix tighter and follows behind Bin.

“Guys! GUYS!” Han starts barrelling towards them as they begin to leave. “Oh hi, Felix.”

Felix gives a meek wave. 

“GUYS! It’s gonna blow.” 

“What?” both Hyunjin and Changbin say in unison. 

“The barn it caught on fire because I accidentally knocked over a lamp, and then it turns out these guys are doing some real illegal stuff. They have dynamite. Like real dynamite. Anyway, we have to go, like, now!”

Hyunjin’s eyes go wide. “Did you say dynamite?” 

“RUN!” It’s Chris this time, sprinting up to them from the same direction Han had just come in, pushing them towards the exit. 

It’s a mad dash after that. Hyunjin hikes Felix higher in his arms and takes off.   

~~~

18:45 19.10.1897 [CHRIS]

“. . . and that’s pretty much it. That’s how it all happened,” Han sighs, folding his hands on the table as fifteen pairs of ears absorb the last words of his story. 

Chris smiles as he watches his friends’ reactions. Everyone is gathered around several tables in The Saloon, the non-participants eager to hear the details of everything that played out. It’s nice that they’re excited about it, but Chris is just glad it’s all over.

The last few days have been exhausting. Everything from saving Felix to the long trip home has left the rescue party weary and tired. Even Han has been surprisingly subdued following all the excitement, telling the story without much flair or embellishment. He must be feeling as drained as Chris is.

“Well that sounds completely in line with what I predicted, right down to the bridal carry,” Wooyoung announces, crossing his arms. Seonghwa shakes his head, exchanging a look with Hongjoong.

“I have one question,” Jongho says to Han, “did Mingi get knocked out and have to be dragged away? ‘Cause you never mentioned it, but Wooyoung was pretty confident that would happen.”

“You shouldn’t listen to him,” Mingi says, defending himself in spite of the knot on his forehead. 

Beside him, Yunho shrugs. “He’s just so big, it’s not like I could carry him.”

“I’ve got a question as well,” Lee Know interjects, turning to Binnie, “did you or did you not say the words, ‘God, I wish Wooyoung was here?’” 

Binnie cuts a look at Wooyoung, who bats his eyelashes appealingly. “Definitely not,” he replies. “I never said that.”

As Wooyoung begins to protest, Chris sweeps his eyes over the room with a bittersweet feeling. 

ATEEZ have fallen right back into step with each other. San smiles fondly at Wooyoung as he argues with Yunho and Mingi, who laugh and joke back to him, seeming totally at home. Jongho pipes up only to poke holes in his friends’ stories and grin when they fumble to respond. Yeosang is in his own world, content just to be there, and the two eldest talk quietly together beneath all the ruckus.

Their reunion was simple, happy. No traces of uncertainty or discomfort. Chris feels a pang as he glances now at his own friends, unable to help but compare them.

Jinnie is no longer the mess that he was a few days ago, but he still sits slightly apart from the group, as though he doesn't know what his place is. Binnie isn’t as talkative or animated as he should be, seeming mentally and physically spent. 

And something must be going on with Han, too. Something more than just fatigue. Ordinarily he’d get a kick out of recounting their adventure and entertaining everyone, but it’s like he’s not really present. Lee Know sends him occasional concerned glances, and Chris knows he sees it too.

Seungmin must’ve taken it particularly hard that they were gone for so many days. As soon as the rescue party arrived back in town, he met them at the city limits, giving Chris a brief, tight hug and saying quietly, “Don’t ever leave town again.” Chris’s heart broke a little to hear that, wondering what Seungmin had to deal with by himself.

But at least he and Jeongin seem to be doing better. It’s a relief that they’re being friendly again. Jeongin does act strangely awkward, though. It’s probably just all the noise and the new people.

And of course, Felix has been . . . wait. 

Chris looks around, not finding him anywhere. In his peripheral vision, his eye catches on the back door swinging shut. Everyone else is absorbed in ATEEZ’s bickering, not noticing Felix slip out in spite of all the attention that’s been on him today.

So Chris sees the opportunity. He gets up and follows.

As he steps onto the back porch, he jokes, “We only just got you back home, don't disappear on us so soon.”

Felix glances back at him, brows drawing up in worry even as he tries to smile at Chris’s words. His posture is rigid, his hands tight on the porch rail. He replies, “Don’t worry, I’m not goin’ anywhere. I just needed some fresh air.”

Chris sighs, not even trying to stifle it. He leans against the rail next to Felix, shaking his head. “We’re not doing this anymore,” he says.

Felix’s eyes blink questioningly. “Doing what?”

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” Chris says. “What do you think I’m gonna do? Turn you in, after everything? I’m not that kinda person, Felix, and you’re my friend. I want you to understand that.”

A beat of silence passes as Felix looks away. “I know,” he replies. “But I hate that I’ve put you in this position. You shouldn’t have to choose whether to do your job—” 

Chris laughs before he can hold it back. “Fuck my job,” he says, grinning as Felix’s eyes widen. “I made my call the very first day you showed up here, and I’m standing by it.”

The wide eyes narrow as Felix frowns. “What does that mean?”

“I knew who you really were,” Chris explains. “I had seen your bounty and I recognized you. But I trusted Lee Know’s judgment, and you didn’t seem like a troublemaker to me. The longer you stayed, the more I felt like I made the right decision. Not that I blame you for keepin’ your secrets, but I was never gonna turn you in.”

Nodding slowly, Felix takes that in. “I didn’t realize you knew,” he says simply. “I’m sorry for lying.”

Chris smiles. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re a good kid. We’re all good people,” he adds, nodding to The Saloon. “There’s no one in this town I don’t trust, and so I want you to trust me too.”

Felix’s frown softens, his eyes starting to water. “I always trusted you,” he says, his voice steady. “I just have to get used to this. Being myself, I mean. Being safe.”

“I understand,” Chris says, and he does. He puts a hand on Felix’s shoulder. “We all do. It’s kind of a thing in Jay Park, you may have noticed.”

Felix smiles, a real smile, and the tension melts. It’s unfamiliar, hearing the depth of his voice, seeing him wearing masculine clothes, but Chris is glad about it. Glad that Felix isn’t changing himself anymore, or hiding anything.

But a touch of hesitation lingers in Felix’s voice as he asks, “Did Seungmin know too? About who I really was?”

Tilting his head, Chris shrugs. “Maybe. I never told him, but he might’ve figured it out. He’s pretty sharp, that deputy of ours.”

“Yeah. And I do live with him. I guess that means the only person who didn’t know anything . . .”

“Ah,” Chris nods. “Jinnie.”

“Jinnie,” Felix agrees. He runs a hand through his hair, sending a worried glance back at The Saloon. “I can’t believe what a mess I made. I don’t know what to do about that. About any of it.” 

Chris doesn’t think he has the right to tell Felix what to do, but it would be wrong of him not to at least offer some advice. He thinks back to what he told Seungmin the other day, even though that feels like ages ago now.

“You should be honest,” he says. “Jinnie wants to understand, but he’s the type to second-guess himself if he’s unsure of something. And . . .” He isn’t sure if he should say this, but he’s compelled. “Whatever’s going on between you, him, and Binnie, you might wanna work that out soon. While we’re all here and happy to be home, this might be a good time.”

A blush dusts over the freckles. “I know,” he sighs. “I need to figure that out, too, but I don’t really know where to start.”

“Well, maybe start tomorrow,” Chris suggests. “Or the day after. You’ve had a pretty terrible week, I think you’ve earned a day or two to rest.”

As if those words have reminded him how exhausted he is, Felix droops. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I think maybe I’ll go to bed early.” As he turns to go inside, he pauses. “Thanks, Chris,” he says. “For letting me stay.”

Chris just smiles. “You’re always welcome.”

“Wait,” Felix pauses, frowning, “what happened to your shirt?”

Gasping, Chris reaches for the hem of his shirt, only to find it completely intact, tucked neatly in. He looks up, puzzled, to see Felix return a cheeky grin.

“Gotcha,” he sing-songs, heading in.

Chris bites his lip, but he can’t help but giggle. In spite of everything, he’s happy. Felix is staying, a long-time worry is now resolved.

There are still messes to clean up. Everyone seems to be on unsteady footing around here. Jinnie’s whole existence in Jay Park is still an unresolved question. All of that is troubling, of course, but some things are shaping up. 

Maybe, with enough luck and enough effort, he can make sure everything works out. Maybe he can keep everyone together. At least, he really hopes so.

Chapter Text

The wooden slats that line the ceiling of his attic bedroom stare down at him from up above. Hyunjin blinks, feeling as though he’s spent the last hour committing the image to memory. The way they peak up with the shape of the roof. How all the cracks in the wood are just ever so slightly different.

He has this image sketched somewhere from back when this room was new to him, before it was really his. The whole thing is mapped out on one of his pages. He’s always liked this room, and he wanted to commit it to memory even before this town had become something of a home. It was cute, it was cozy, it was perfect.

Hyunjin closes his eyes with a deep sigh. Everything around him is still and calm.

Only the creaking of the stairs intrudes in on that silence. Hyunjin squeezes his eyes shut tighter, hoping that if he just lies very, very still and doesn’t move, whoever is on the stairs will just go away. Leave him to lie here and ponder in peace.

This does not happen.

“Hey there, bub,” Chris calls from where he is peeking in behind the door. “You alright in here?”

Hyunjin doesn’t have the energy to speak right now, let alone answer that question. He’s so caught up in thoughts of home that no words make it out. Instead, Chris gets a groan in response.

“Okay, well, I just wanted to let you know that Han is comin’ over soon. In case you wanted to join us.” Chris pauses, clearly giving Hyunjin a chance to respond. He doesn’t. “I’ll leave you to it up here. Come get me if you need anything!”

Hyunjin sighs as he hears Chris leave. Something in his heart aches as he listens to those footsteps thump back down the stairs. He should want to be down there. He should want to race after Chris and join in on whatever he and Han plan to do. But he doesn’t.

What am I doing? he thinks, looking back up at the wood that had felt like home just moments ago. It feels hollow now. Would I even belong down there if I followed?

Hyunjin turns bodily away from the ceiling. The pillow makes a little puff as he rolls over and lands on his eyes. The motion makes letters on his desk flutter, and suddenly, Hyunjin is viscerally reminded of everything that has happened recently.

He’s already on borrowed time. Whether he belongs or not doesn’t matter. Hyunjin has a duty—no, a responsibility to return home.

The one thing that truly does make him feel like he belongs here, his friends, have been jeopardized by him. Thanks to his father’s extreme persistence, Hyunjin could have lost someone he truly, deeply cares for. What if it happens again? It could, especially now that they know where he is.

And even if nothing happened, even if no one else came after him and Hyunjin was able to stay in Jay Park, would Felix even want him here? Would Changbin?

Before all this happened, before Felix was kidnapped, they did kiss. Hyunjin saw it happen, and no matter what Changbin has said to him, there's clearly something going on between them. He’s already gotten in the way of that once. Should he even risk intruding again? Wouldn’t that be awkward?

Hyunjin forgoes the letters and the journal that lies beneath them to reach for his sketchbook. He needs to see Jay Park as he has come to know it.

He flips through, passing over the detailed portraits of Felly and Changbin, the scribbled and deformed pictures of Seungmin, the hastily drawn pictures of Lee Know with his cats. There’s a few landscapes, and he passes over the missing pages where there once was a cactus or two.

Sighing again, he glides his fingers across each page, hoping that tracing each line might bring back the memory as well. If he could just go back, knowing what he knows now, he could savor it.

Why is this all so difficult ? he wonders. I want so badly to belong here when I know I’ll just ruin everything if I stay!

He blinks his eyes, willing the tears away, clearing his view so that he can see the image before him. It’s the ceiling. Almost identical to the one he was just looking up at, if only a little smudged.  

Hyunjin hugs the image in close, shutting his eyes tight. He has to make a decision about this soon. As if he has a choice. 

~~~

Chris is a level-headed person. He’s able to maintain his composure through a lot of different situations, and good at reasoning his way through emotional conflicts when necessary. Those are qualities that make him a good sheriff. They’re skills he takes pride in after years of practice.

But that doesn’t mean he never gets nervous. There are times when he can’t think his way out of it, or escape the pressure he feels to succeed.

Unexpectedly, this is one of those times.

Han is standing in Chris’s newly-emptied spare room, glancing around it curiously while Chris watches from the doorway. 

“Seungmin did a good job,” he says appraisingly. “Or at least I assume he did. I never saw this room when it was full of junk. But it’s good that he had something to do while we were gone, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees. “He was pretty thorough, except for the dresser he left on my front porch.” 

It’s true. All that’s left in here is an old bed frame (sans mattress) and a nightstand that isn’t quite broken beyond repair, along with one box of random odds and ends that Chris might still want to keep. Seungmin followed his instructions acutely, saving anything that could still be of some use in a bedroom.

“That dresser wasn’t bad,” Han says. “It’s nicer than anything I’ve got at the boxcar. If it wasn’t so damn heavy, I’d ask if I could have it.”

Chris’s stomach jumps a little. This is a good moment. He clears his throat, saying, “Actually, that’s why I asked you to come over.”

Han turns to him, eye widening in excitement. “To give me your broken furniture?”

“No,” Chris says, “to offer you the room.”

Han stops. He tilts his head, blinking, as if taken aback. Slowly, he looks around again. His expression grows serious, working itself into a frown. The silence hangs around him like a spotlight. Chris waits, expectant, unsure if he should say anything further.

As Han’s gaze cautiously finds him once more, he speaks in a small voice. “You want me to live here?”

“Yes.” Chris’s tone is intentional. He doesn't want there to be any mistaking his words. “That’s why I asked Seungmin to clean it out.”

Han is quiet for another moment, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. His eye then fixes on the bed frame against the wall, narrow and old and incomplete. Chris can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“You don’t have to say yes,” he tells him. He wants so badly for this to come across the right way, to make this an easy choice. “I understand if you’d rather keep living on your own, and I wouldn’t take any offense. But I know you’ve been thinking about moving, so the room is yours if you want it.”

With a nod, Han looks back at him again. “Yeah,” he says. “I think I want . . . I mean, I’ll think about it.”

“Take your time,” Chris replies. “Whatever you decide is fine by me.” This was expected, sort of. He wasn’t really sure how Han would react to his invitation. After months of trying to find a way to get Han to settle down somewhere in town, this felt like the best shot he could take.

“Thanks.” Han’s reply is almost absent as he looks around the room again.

“You’re welcome.” Chris has done his part, and now feels the relief of having gotten an intimidating task over with. Feeling that there’s nothing more for him to say, he decides to leave and give Han a moment alone to process everything.

But Han speaks again suddenly. “Actually,” he starts, sounding more like himself, “I don’t need to think about it. If you’re sure you want me here, then I’ll take the room.”

A grin spreads before Chris can even try to suppress it. “Good. I’ll start looking for a mattress.”

~~~

Lee Know may not be the most generous employer in the world, but he always fails at upholding his seemingly cold and heartless reputation. In light of recent events, he’s given Felix the week off. Undoubtedly this is a kind and thoughtful act, except that Felix has only gotten through two of those days and he’s already desperate to get back to work.

He wakes up in the morning with no intention of spending another day catching up on sleep or quietly sitting up in his own room, only occasionally visited by one of his friends checking in on him. Chris and Binnie have gone back to work, and everybody else never stopped, so Felix should be doing the same.

And he’d rather not have any more time alone to overthink every aspect of his life. 

So he gets dressed in his work clothes (which now consist of an unfamiliar crisp white shirt and black waistcoat, like what Binnie usually wears) and heads downstairs.

“What are you doing down here?” Lee Know asks, frowning as he sees Felix. “And why are you dressed for work?”

Felix shrugs, joining him behind the bar. “I’m bored,” he explains. “I want something to do, so here I am. I appreciate the days off, but I don’t need them.”

The intensity of Lee Know’s stare betrays his skepticism. Felix pretends he doesn’t see it.

“Mornin’,” grumbles Binnie as he arrives, still clouded by sleepiness, letting the front door shut behind him. He perks up when he sees Felix. “Wow, are you back to work already?”

Felix is about to say yes but Lee Know cuts him off, “No, I’m about to send him back upstairs. A day and a half of sleeping it off is hardly enough. If you wanna work the afternoon shift that’s fine, but you can stand one more morning of rest.”

“What?” Felix’s face falls. He doesn’t need that, he doesn’t want that, he wants to get busy again. “I’m fine, Lee Know, I swear,” he protests. “You can’t just make me sit upstairs all day!”

“Can and will. Binnie,” he snaps his fingers, “bring Felix back upstairs and tuck him in. He can come down after the lunch rush if he still feels up to it.”

Felix scoffs, lifting his hands. “You’re gonna put me in time out? That’s ridiculous!”

He looks to Binnie for support, but Binnie just gives him a sympathetic shrug and asks, “Are we doin’ this the easy way or the hard way?”

“Wh—no, stay over there,” Felix backs away, holding out a hand as Binnie approaches. But he’s got nowhere to run, and Binnie swiftly lifts him off his feet. “No!” he cries, but a laugh escapes him, too, as he swings heels-over-head over Binnie’s shoulder. “Lee Know! You can’t do this! You’re the worst!”

“I’m aware,” Lee Know smirks, crossing his arms as Binnie tows Felix back up the stairs. He gives a little wave as he disappears from Felix’s line of sight. “This is for your own good!”

Felix mentally retracts his earlier thoughts about Lee Know being kind and thoughtful.

“Alright, here we are,” Binnie grunts, pushing the bedroom door open with one hand. Felix braces to be flung down onto his bed, but Binnie twists to gently set him down, pulling a blanket up to cover him. He’s enjoying this. 

Felix rolls his eyes, not sitting up. “I can’t believe you,” he says accusingly. “Working so willingly for the enemy. I thought we were . . . friends.” He briefly struggles over that word, wondering if maybe they should be calling themselves something else now, but that’s another thing he has yet to figure out. He swallows his uncertainty. This probably isn’t the time to broach that subject.

Binnie crosses the room to close the curtains, letting only a sliver of light in. “Eh, he’s the boss. We all make sacrifices for our jobs, y’know?” He comes back and sits at the edge of the bed, patting Felix’s knee. “Plus, he’s right. You can stand one more morning off.”

“I don’t wanna have the morning off,” Felix says more insistently. His stare is fixed on Binnie, who doesn’t look at him. “I want things to go back to normal.”

The hand on his knee goes still. Binnie sighs softly, turning his face away. In spite of that, though, Felix sees his pity. Or maybe it’s regret. Either way, it’s not a look he often wears, not that Felix has ever seen. 

“I know,” he says quietly, “but you only just got home. Things aren’t normal yet.” 

The words hang unspoken in the air, they might not ever be normal again. 

Jinnie, Felix’s mind supplies, although he knows that’s not what Binnie means. In his throat is a lump that’s been threatening to rise for days, making his voice crack as he returns, “I know. But I’m sick of lying here thinking about it.” 

He sits up, feeling soreness in his core and his back that still haven’t left his muscles after so many days of being tied up. He covers Binnie’s hand with his own, waiting until their gazes meet. It only brings him closer to the brink of tears to see the concern in those eyes, which scan Felix’s face as if making sure he’s really alright. Making sure he’s really here.

With a shaky breath, he squeezes that strong, careful hand and says, “I’m okay, Binnie, I promise. Nothing’s gonna hurt me here.”

Binnie just nods, bringing a hand up to guide Felix’s face to the crook of his neck, wrapping both arms around him and holding him there. The tightness drains out of Felix’s body and he closes his eyes. For a long moment, he just lets himself be held.

They did this already, sort of, after Felix was rescued and they started the trip home. But they hadn’t really had a moment alone, and they still had such a long way to go. Now there’s nothing urgent to push them forward or distract them.

“I know I asked this before,” Binnie mumbles into Felix’s hair, still holding him tight, “but I wanna ask again.”

“Go ahead,” Felix croaks.

“How bad was it?” 

Felix knows he means how badly did they hurt you, and he’s thankful for the answer he’s able to give. “Not too bad,” he replies, pulling away so that Binnie can see he’s being sincere. “I took a few hits. I got knocked out a couple of times. But that was the worst of it, there was nothing more than that.”

Binnie’s eyes settle on his. “Honest?”

“Honest.”

“Okay,” he sighs, pulling Felix close one more time. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“I understand,” Felix replies in a whisper. He smiles. “I know it’d be kind of a pain for you to start on a second revenge quest on top of your first one.” He feels more than hears Binnie’s chuckle as the taut muscles beneath his hands ease up, relaxing. 

It’s not lost on Felix that the last time they were actually alone together, just the two of them, was when they had kissed. Was it really that long ago? It seems like ages. The memory makes him feel tingly, and his fingers curl tighter into the fabric of Binnie’s shirt. It begs the question what will happen now, whether that was an accident or a fluke. But Felix doesn't want to dig through all of that right now. This moment should be savored while it lasts.

It’s a little while before they separate. Their fingers are still entwined as Binnie pushes a blond lock out of Felix’s eyes with his other hand.

“I know you have a lot on your mind,” he says, “and we’ll work it all out soon. Things may not be the same, but that’s not your fault. And everything’s okay for now. So don’t worry so much,” he nags, poking Felix’s nose.

Felix can’t help a sheepish smile at having his mind read, as per usual. “I’ll try,” he offers cooperatively.

“Good.” Binnie rises, re-adjusting the blanket. “And try to get some rest, too. Seriously.”

“Okay.”

He remains a moment longer, studying Felix with a content expression. “I like the uniform,” he says. “The dresses are nice, but this suits you too.”

The smile deepens as Felix feels a silly blush creep onto his cheeks. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, darlin’.” Binnie leans down to press a quick peck to his forehead, saying, “Come down after lunch. I’ll tell Lee Know you’ll be just fine.” And with that, he whisks out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Felix presses his hands to his face, sighing. That didn’t exactly answer the we kissed before I got kidnapped so what happens now question, but it sure didn’t hurt.

In spite of his soreness and his worries and his itch to get back to life as usual, Felix feels better. And it’s no wonder. No amount of sleep or solitary confinement could compare to just a few minutes with Binnie.

~~~

“To the left—no, your other left,” Chris grunts, hefting one end of the wardrobe while Han struggles with the other. They narrowly miss the door frame as they carry it in.

“Sorry, it’s hard to go backwards with this thing,” Han complains. “And I’m missing my left eye.”

“Yeah, yeah, good excuse.”

They manage to get the wardrobe in without doing any significant damage to the walls or the floors, so it’s a success overall. Panting, Han straightens up and puts his hands on his hips. “That was heavy,” he sighs, tilting his head back.

Chris shrugs. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

“Oh boy,” Han breathes deeply, leaning against the wardrobe and closing his eye, “I’m fallin’ out.”

“Come on,” Chris says, “you’re fine.”

Leaning more heavily now, Han presses the back of his hand to his forehead. “I . . . I might be dying, Chris. I’m feeling faint. The room, it’s spinning . . .” he starts to slide down the side of the wardrobe. “Ah, it’s fading now . . .”

Rolling his eyes, Chris asks, “Would a glass of water possibly save your life?”

Han’s eye widens and he gasps, “Oh, Chris, you’re so good to me, you’re so kind . . .”

As he continues pretending to die, Chris chuckles and heads to the kitchen. Han doesn’t have much in the way of belongings, so most of the work so far has been moving in gently-used furniture bargained from the neighbors. They’ve gotten pretty much everything they need, and all that’s left is to move in Han’s few possessions tomorrow.

Opening the cupboard above the sink, Chris reaches for a glass. His fingers make contact with a stack of dishes instead. 

Oh, duh, he chides himself, closing that cabinet and opening the next one over, finding it full of glasses and coffee mugs as he expected. But this isn’t right. Frowning, Chris glances back at the previous cabinet. Am I going crazy? 

The glasses should be in the cupboard above the sink. They always have been, or so he thought. So why are they now in the one next to the sink? Have I really never noticed that before? Chris wonders. He was gone barely more than a week, has he forgotten the layout of his own home already? 

Shaking his head, he fills the glass and brings it back to Han. He makes a mental note to ask Binnie later tonight if the glasses are supposed to be in the cupboard above the sink.

~~~

Felix is glad to be busy again. It feels strange to go about his work at The Saloon without faking a high voice or wearing a dress, but it’s been nice to get back into his normal routine.

It hasn’t fixed everything, though.

He started work again yesterday afternoon following his enforced morning of taking it easy, and that was enough to get his mind off things for a while. And today was a Saturday, meaning he and Binnie ran The Saloon together all day. Being with Binnie is medicine in and of itself, and the repetitive work of doing dishes and serving drinks helped too.

But now the day is over. Binnie has gone home, Lee Know has disappeared to sort all the stuff he bought in the city, Seungmin and Jeongin are both asleep by now, and Felix is left alone with his thoughts.

Getting ready for bed, he already knows he won’t be able to sleep.

He can’t stop thinking about Jinnie. That’s not the only loose end that’s bothering him, but currently it’s the most pressing. The two of them have barely talked since returning home to Jay Park, and every day that passes only makes Felix’s anxiety simmer higher.

He blows out the candle on his nightstand, slipping into bed. All the warmth of the day vanished with the sunset. He wriggles himself under the covers, hiding from the chill of his bedroom as his worries persist.

It’s obvious that Jinnie has a lot to deal with right now, and Felix is only part of the equation.

The details are still unclear, but everything going on with Jinnie’s family sounds terrible. He’d felt awful that those things led to Felix being kidnapped, and even though Felix assured him that none of it was his fault, the problems themselves remain unsolved.

Of course, Felix can’t do anything about that. It pains him that Jinnie has to decide if he should abandon his own life for the life his father is leaving behind. To call it unfair is an understatement, and it must be weighing on him heavily.

And on top of that, he’s certain that Jinnie’s still upset about Felix lying to him. Obviously, why wouldn’t he be?

I should’ve just told him from the beginning, Felix thinks for the millionth time, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his face. Why did I think it would be better to lie? 

Everything he was afraid of happened exactly as he feared it. From what Chris, Han, and Binnie have told him, Jinnie found out the truth in a worst-case scenario. Felly and Felix are not different people, not really, but hiding the truth for so long undermined he and Jinnie’s entire relationship. No amount of apologizing can just make that go away.

But Felix still feels the same way as before—maybe even stronger now, after what Jinnie went through to rescue him in spite of his lies. Felix admires him to the core. He loves the beautiful, complicated person that Jinnie is, but he has no idea what his place in that person’s life is anymore. Especially given his changing relationship with Binnie.

He thinks about what Chris told him the other day. Jinnie’s the type to second-guess himself. 

Felix doesn’t want any second-guessing. He doesn’t want any misunderstanding or gray-area. He’s done with that. He wants Jinnie to know how he feels, and he wants to be certain of where they stand. It would be such a relief to be honest, to get some answers, and to be able to help. Just to let Jinnie know that he cares. It’d be a lot better than lying awake worrying about him.

But he can’t expect Jinnie to come to him first. Not with everything else that’s on his plate. Felix has no idea what he can say or do to fix things, but he knows he has to do something. 

Now that they’re back in town, safe and settled, he’s going to tell Jinnie how he feels, to make things easier for both of them. He wants Jinnie to be happy. That means no more of this awkward distance or uncertainty.

Fuck it, I have to make the first move, he tells himself. Jinnie’s got enough to worry about, so I have to step up. I’m gonna to talk to him, and soon.

That much is clear. If only he could figure out what to say.

~~~

“What do you think?” Chris asks, stepping back to get a better view of the whole room. It’s not particularly spacious, most of its sparse furniture is old and more than gently used, and there’s still a stray box or two on the floor that Han hasn’t unpacked.

But nevertheless, Han nods and replies firmly, “It’s perfect.”

Chris grins. He rubs Han’s shoulder excitedly, saying, “And it didn’t even take us that long! We’ve still got the rest of our Sunday to enjoy.” They’d started early this morning and gotten Binnie’s help moving everything before he went to meet Felix for church, and they’ve already finished since he left.

“Yeah,” Han smiles, going quiet for a moment. “I think I’m gonna go back to the boxcar in a little while, just to make sure I got everything.”

Chris raises an eyebrow. Even after more than a year of living there, Han didn’t have that much stuff at the boxcar. Being as small as it was, he wouldn’t have overlooked anything while he was packing. Plus, Binnie helped him bring most of it earlier today. If Han’s going back to the boxcar, it’s probably just to have a moment alone there, to say goodbye to the place.

But obviously Chris isn’t going to tease him about that. So he just says, “Of course. Want me to get anything else while you’re gone?”

“Uh . . .” Glancing around, Han hums as he thinks. “Oh,” he says, “a lamp? I don’t know if you have an extra, but mine broke when we were moving.”

“Sure, I’ve got a second one in my room,” Chris replies. “I’ll go grab it.”

He heads across the house to his own bedroom, still thinking of his newest roommate. How good it feels to know that Han will be here from now on, that he’ll have a real place to call home, that he’ll be safe. Chris feels the smile that lingers on his face and the swell of contentment in his chest.

Stepping into his room, he reaches to grab the spare oil lamp off of his dresser and ducks back out the door.

Wait.

What the Hell? Chris turns around, poking his head into his room again, because his hand is empty. Where’s the lamp? He glances at the dresser, the surface of which looks the same as it always has—almost.

Where the extra lamp has sat for months is a dish of other random odds and ends that’s usually on Chris’s nightstand. When did he move it there? And on the nightstand is a stack of books that used to be in the living room.

Glancing around, Chris realizes there’s a whole mess of things that aren’t where they usually go. But they’ve been placed so innocuously, and he hasn’t needed any of them since he’s gotten back home, he didn’t even notice they’d been moved.

He goes back out to the living room to find the extra lamp on a random end table. He sighs, shaking his head as he picks it up to take back to Han.

There’s only one explanation for this, he knows. And it’s currently twiddling its thumbs at the Sheriff’s Station.

~~~

The Saloon is empty on Sunday morning, as usual. Jeongin’s in the middle of his church service, meaning most of the town is occupied. This is a regular occurrence, and Minho is used to spending Sunday mornings alone at work.

Which is why he was surprised when Jinnie came in, all by himself. 

With nothing more than a bleary “good morning,” he took a seat at a far table and took out his stationery. He didn’t ask for a drink or anything, he just spent a while writing. At some point, though, Minho saw him quit and crumple the sheet up, discarding it.

Ordinarily, Minho might mind his own business. But Jinnie’s in some rough waters these days. Even if he doesn’t wanna talk about it, even if Minho can’t help solve any of his problems, he should make sure his friend is alright.

And what better way to do that than to press him into servitude?

So he gets Jinnie to help him with some tasks in the storeroom. While he goes through each crate, he counts off quantities of different items for Jinnie to record on the inventory list. It’s simple enough work that Minho could easily do it on his own, but this gives him a chance to check on Jinnie without outright interrogating.

They work for a little while without saying much before Minho decides he can broach the subject.

“What’re you writing out there?” he asks, referring to the scrapped paper.

He sees Jinnie stifle a sigh. “A letter to my mother.”

He cuts another box open. “You weren’t happy with your first draft?”

Shaking his head, Jinnie replies, “It’s hard to write to her ‘cause I don’t really know what I’m gonna tell her, I guess. I haven’t decided what I’m gonna do.”

“Right.” That’s been an uncertainty since Jinnie’s mother sent him that frantic letter after Felix was kidnapped. No one has wanted to ask what Jinnie’s plan is now, but Minho figures he can at least help him think through this. “What’re your options?” 

“Well,” he begins, “obviously my father wants me to move home and take over the company. If I don’t do that, he might do something more drastic to get me to come home. And my mom wants me at home too, I think, just so I’ll be safe from that.”  

“And what do you wanna do?”

Pausing, Jinnie lifts his gaze from the list he’s been scanning. He stares into space as he forms his response. “What I want doesn’t matter,” he says. His eyes find Minho’s, becoming clearer. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin. I’m supposed to take over the company and take care of my mother. After what happened to Felix, I can’t put that off anymore.”

“I understand that,” Minho says. “But it does matter what you want. Hwang Hyunjin is his own person. He has responsibilities to his family, but he has them to himself, too.”

Jinnie’s frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

“I mean your family doesn’t get to have your entire life,” Minho explains. “Part of it, sure, but not all of it. If you wanna be in Jay Park, you decide that for yourself. You’re not the only option in the world for them, so they aren’t the only option in the world for you.”

Jinnie takes a breath, his gaze not breaking, but his words seem to dissolve before they leave his mouth. His lips tighten into a thin line as he glances away, shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he decides. “I’m gonna move home. I have to. Even if I do wanna stay here, I don’t have anything to stay for.”

Whoa. Where did that come from? Minho straightens up, stepping away from the boxes.

Jinnie’s voice brims with resignation as he continues, “I mean, I love this town. The only reason I’ve stayed this long is ‘cause I love all of you—my friends.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “But I don’t belong here. I don’t have a place here with the rest of you.” 

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Minho demands. The question makes Jinnie flinch, which he ignores. “You can’t be serious. Everyone in this place knows you! You have a job, an address, and seven close friends. You’ve lived here for nine months, and you’ve practically ingrained yourself into every part of this town! There’s no way you don’t realize that.”

“Okay, okay!” Jinnie surrenders, holding up his palms. “Calm down, jeez. Yes, fine, I do have a place here, I guess. But I still feel like—” he interrupts himself, biting his tongue.

Minho softens, backing down. “What?” he asks. “I won’t yell at you anymore, just tell me what you’re worried about.”