[Drabble] Mismatched Pieces
Title: Mismatched Pieces
Pairing(s): Chanyeol/Baekhyun
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, Romance
Lenght: Drabble
Warning(s): swearing
Summary: Nothing goes right. For the both of them.
Chanyeol feels his spine shaping itself on the sheets, his hands and legs tangled with the pillows-everything’s quiet.
Normally he’d hear cats climbing up the walls by now. Or the neighbors fighting over the parking, which is consecutively followed by car engines and car tires burning on the pavements. Sometimes the birds chirp, leaves rustle, sunlight knocking against the tainted windows; and even those white noises bring him some kind of evidence that he’s still living. Still breathing, at least.
But there’s nothing now.
It’s funny, because the more things get quiet, get more tranquil and in the level of Nirvana’s peace, Chanyeol’s mind gets noisier. It busies itself with useless thoughts, hands reaching for the blankets, pinning the ends with his palms. He feels frustration. Anger. He’s about to blow up when everything’s silent.
But then he’d hear the door. It creaks open, it echoes, makes him realize that his apartment is big enough for a sound to reverberate through.
But then he sees Baekhyun. In a set of an empty guitar case on his back, straps on his shoulders. Black hair, distanced smile, and twinkling eyes as still as ever. It shakes up Chanyeol, to be honest. Breaks him.
But Baekhyun always tries fixing him whenever he rips apart. He tries, but never fully does it. Though Chanyeol can’t blame Baekhyun in the first place. It’s not his fault, neither is it Baekhyun’s.
That’s the only thin thread they’re holding onto, maybe. A single lie-and it gets them through the days.
“Are you alright?” Baekhyun enters the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the lights, because he likes the room shadowing with sunshine hovered through the window grills.
Chanyeol hears plastic. Grocery bags, put on the counter. And Baekhyun’s trembling voice hiding itself in undertone.
Chanyeol hears everything about Baekhyun these days.
“I brought bananas. You haven’t had cherries in a while either. Do you still like apples?” Baekhyun speaks fast, tongue tired and words a bit slipping in rough edged Korean. He spends a lot of time with his bandmates, which most are Chinese. Guess he had inhabited it. Chanyeol doesn’t really mind, but he flinches either way-which actually says a lot in protest of ‘I don’t mind’.
Chanyeol likes lying a lot these days.
“Yeah, I still like apples.”
“Good. I bought a bunch of them,”
Their voices croak.
The wind is heard by then. And Chanyeol is put to ease. Baekhyun isn’t.
He’s never at ease.
“You’re alright?”
The plastic bags stop the sound of wrinkling, and Chanyeol feels uncomfortable again. The room’s quiet. Baekhyun doesn’t ask anything else. That’s how it always goes.
He doesn’t speak fast this time. He emphasizes each word, making sure Chanyeol would understand and that will be all that he could answer. Because every time, Chanyeol finds a way twisting his words. He tries finding a way around it, because Baekhyun’s always too careful. Too mindful.
Baekhyun just had enough of it.
“Chanyeol. Speak to me for once.”
There were constant problems between them.
Chanyeol says that Baekhyun’s still good, but he plays the words over afterwards, and starts to think that lying could be his thing. His hobby. Because he knows Baekhyun’s starting to lie as well.
He isn’t that dumb to not realize, actually. Chanyeol isn’t that stupid. Baekhyun knows that too.
While they’re holding hands in the same bed and staring at the same, blank ceiling like they had for years now, Chanyeol feels scars. His pulse speeding, slowing. Baekhyun’s blisters over his hands. Chanyeol feels everything about Baekhyun nowadays.
He hates it.
“I’m alright. You’ve been asking this since yesterday,” This was the problem.
“You look alright, Yeol. But you keep-” Baekhyun wants to explode, just when the universe’s restricting him to do so.
“You keep saying that as a whole-as everything, that you’re alright.”
Baekhyun steps out from the kitchen.
Chanyeol wasn’t that dumb. He didn’t know a lot of things about Baekhyun yet. All Chanyeol needed to know, honestly, was Baekhyun, and if for him, Chanyeol feels good enough. If for Baekhyun, being with Chanyeol is feeling loved, alright, if Baekhyun could still be okay with him.
All he needed to know, really, was just if Baekhyun loves him; and if he’ll continue doing so.
The answer had always been there. Chanyeol had just always been deaf.
“I really want you to say that you’re not because… Because I’m here, Yeol. If you’re not then fucking tell me, don’t lie. That’s the last thing I want to hear from you.”
Chanyeol feels his spine forming itself on the sheets, wrinkling themselves around his bones. Baekhyun crawls to his side, dipping his weight on the mattress, and Chanyeol could feel everything slowly shallow.
Baekhyun at times, would just lie here. Not caring if he smells like alcohol, smoke and cigarettes-like someone lost.
Baekhyun, at times, would just hurdle himself into one space, usually beside Chanyeol, and stay there. Stay being too little; too weak against everything else but Chanyeol.
Baekhyun, at times, every time Chanyeol needs it, he holds his hands, pretty fingers entangling themselves between Chanyeol’s long ones. It starts feeling like an obligation to spit out all the truths to contrast out the lies. Chanyeol thinks about everyhting Baekhyun has done, to him and to his world, and how he’s there to check in with a few bites on his neck after a long night.
Baekhyun lies about that. But Chanyeol really doesn’t mind.
(He doesn’t mind until he leaves a few bites of his own, and Baekhyun’s crying-and Chanyeol feels like a monster.)
“You know, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun’s breath is warm against Chanyeol’s shoulders. Shivering. Trembling.
Scared.
“I don’t love Yixing.”
Chanyeol can’t make himself decide on one way.
Baekhyun makes every answer feel like the end of the world, makes every answer feel wrong.
“I never had.”
“Have you ever loved me, Baek?” Baekhyun makes every question feel wrong.
Chanyeol’s fingers try crushing Bakehyun’s hands, but he’s been trying that for years now, and it never works. Chanyeol tries holding Baekhyun more, tries making sure he feels loved at everything. At his scars, blisters, sadness; at everyhting he needs to be loved with. Because Baekhyun makes everything feel wrong.
Because nothing goes right. For the both of them.
Except to love.
“I’ve loved you. I don’t think there wasn’t a time that I hadn’t. If there ever was, maybe it was just us. We never worked too well.”
“But we got through.”
Baekhyun’s breath is sharp. It pierces through Chanyeol’s ears.
“I love you, Yeol. I love, love, love you. Just please, believe that for all your life. I would want you to believe that.”
In the end, it wasn’t Chanyeol making sure Baekhyun’s loved.
It had always been Baekhyun doing everyhting. Being weak for him, being the ink down perfection, the flaw to retract the flawless. Baekhyun’s been trying to love every part of Chanyeol as much as Chanyeol had been trying himself. But he’s right. Even though he makes everything wrong, he never lies about anything else.
They never worked together well.
“I’ve believed that all my life. That’s all that really keeps it going.”
But the wrongs, together-they’re the perfect mismatched pieces.
Pairing(s): Chanyeol/Baekhyun
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, Romance
Lenght: Drabble
Warning(s): swearing
Summary: Nothing goes right. For the both of them.
Chanyeol feels his spine shaping itself on the sheets, his hands and legs tangled with the pillows-everything’s quiet.
Normally he’d hear cats climbing up the walls by now. Or the neighbors fighting over the parking, which is consecutively followed by car engines and car tires burning on the pavements. Sometimes the birds chirp, leaves rustle, sunlight knocking against the tainted windows; and even those white noises bring him some kind of evidence that he’s still living. Still breathing, at least.
But there’s nothing now.
It’s funny, because the more things get quiet, get more tranquil and in the level of Nirvana’s peace, Chanyeol’s mind gets noisier. It busies itself with useless thoughts, hands reaching for the blankets, pinning the ends with his palms. He feels frustration. Anger. He’s about to blow up when everything’s silent.
But then he’d hear the door. It creaks open, it echoes, makes him realize that his apartment is big enough for a sound to reverberate through.
But then he sees Baekhyun. In a set of an empty guitar case on his back, straps on his shoulders. Black hair, distanced smile, and twinkling eyes as still as ever. It shakes up Chanyeol, to be honest. Breaks him.
But Baekhyun always tries fixing him whenever he rips apart. He tries, but never fully does it. Though Chanyeol can’t blame Baekhyun in the first place. It’s not his fault, neither is it Baekhyun’s.
That’s the only thin thread they’re holding onto, maybe. A single lie-and it gets them through the days.
“Are you alright?” Baekhyun enters the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the lights, because he likes the room shadowing with sunshine hovered through the window grills.
Chanyeol hears plastic. Grocery bags, put on the counter. And Baekhyun’s trembling voice hiding itself in undertone.
Chanyeol hears everything about Baekhyun these days.
“I brought bananas. You haven’t had cherries in a while either. Do you still like apples?” Baekhyun speaks fast, tongue tired and words a bit slipping in rough edged Korean. He spends a lot of time with his bandmates, which most are Chinese. Guess he had inhabited it. Chanyeol doesn’t really mind, but he flinches either way-which actually says a lot in protest of ‘I don’t mind’.
Chanyeol likes lying a lot these days.
“Yeah, I still like apples.”
“Good. I bought a bunch of them,”
Their voices croak.
The wind is heard by then. And Chanyeol is put to ease. Baekhyun isn’t.
He’s never at ease.
“You’re alright?”
The plastic bags stop the sound of wrinkling, and Chanyeol feels uncomfortable again. The room’s quiet. Baekhyun doesn’t ask anything else. That’s how it always goes.
He doesn’t speak fast this time. He emphasizes each word, making sure Chanyeol would understand and that will be all that he could answer. Because every time, Chanyeol finds a way twisting his words. He tries finding a way around it, because Baekhyun’s always too careful. Too mindful.
Baekhyun just had enough of it.
“Chanyeol. Speak to me for once.”
There were constant problems between them.
Chanyeol says that Baekhyun’s still good, but he plays the words over afterwards, and starts to think that lying could be his thing. His hobby. Because he knows Baekhyun’s starting to lie as well.
He isn’t that dumb to not realize, actually. Chanyeol isn’t that stupid. Baekhyun knows that too.
While they’re holding hands in the same bed and staring at the same, blank ceiling like they had for years now, Chanyeol feels scars. His pulse speeding, slowing. Baekhyun’s blisters over his hands. Chanyeol feels everything about Baekhyun nowadays.
He hates it.
“I’m alright. You’ve been asking this since yesterday,” This was the problem.
“You look alright, Yeol. But you keep-” Baekhyun wants to explode, just when the universe’s restricting him to do so.
“You keep saying that as a whole-as everything, that you’re alright.”
Baekhyun steps out from the kitchen.
Chanyeol wasn’t that dumb. He didn’t know a lot of things about Baekhyun yet. All Chanyeol needed to know, honestly, was Baekhyun, and if for him, Chanyeol feels good enough. If for Baekhyun, being with Chanyeol is feeling loved, alright, if Baekhyun could still be okay with him.
All he needed to know, really, was just if Baekhyun loves him; and if he’ll continue doing so.
The answer had always been there. Chanyeol had just always been deaf.
“I really want you to say that you’re not because… Because I’m here, Yeol. If you’re not then fucking tell me, don’t lie. That’s the last thing I want to hear from you.”
Chanyeol feels his spine forming itself on the sheets, wrinkling themselves around his bones. Baekhyun crawls to his side, dipping his weight on the mattress, and Chanyeol could feel everything slowly shallow.
Baekhyun at times, would just lie here. Not caring if he smells like alcohol, smoke and cigarettes-like someone lost.
Baekhyun, at times, would just hurdle himself into one space, usually beside Chanyeol, and stay there. Stay being too little; too weak against everything else but Chanyeol.
Baekhyun, at times, every time Chanyeol needs it, he holds his hands, pretty fingers entangling themselves between Chanyeol’s long ones. It starts feeling like an obligation to spit out all the truths to contrast out the lies. Chanyeol thinks about everyhting Baekhyun has done, to him and to his world, and how he’s there to check in with a few bites on his neck after a long night.
Baekhyun lies about that. But Chanyeol really doesn’t mind.
(He doesn’t mind until he leaves a few bites of his own, and Baekhyun’s crying-and Chanyeol feels like a monster.)
“You know, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun’s breath is warm against Chanyeol’s shoulders. Shivering. Trembling.
Scared.
“I don’t love Yixing.”
Chanyeol can’t make himself decide on one way.
Baekhyun makes every answer feel like the end of the world, makes every answer feel wrong.
“I never had.”
“Have you ever loved me, Baek?” Baekhyun makes every question feel wrong.
Chanyeol’s fingers try crushing Bakehyun’s hands, but he’s been trying that for years now, and it never works. Chanyeol tries holding Baekhyun more, tries making sure he feels loved at everything. At his scars, blisters, sadness; at everyhting he needs to be loved with. Because Baekhyun makes everything feel wrong.
Because nothing goes right. For the both of them.
Except to love.
“I’ve loved you. I don’t think there wasn’t a time that I hadn’t. If there ever was, maybe it was just us. We never worked too well.”
“But we got through.”
Baekhyun’s breath is sharp. It pierces through Chanyeol’s ears.
“I love you, Yeol. I love, love, love you. Just please, believe that for all your life. I would want you to believe that.”
In the end, it wasn’t Chanyeol making sure Baekhyun’s loved.
It had always been Baekhyun doing everyhting. Being weak for him, being the ink down perfection, the flaw to retract the flawless. Baekhyun’s been trying to love every part of Chanyeol as much as Chanyeol had been trying himself. But he’s right. Even though he makes everything wrong, he never lies about anything else.
They never worked together well.
“I’ve believed that all my life. That’s all that really keeps it going.”
But the wrongs, together-they’re the perfect mismatched pieces.