♔ Long Live the Car Crash Hearts ♔ [PART TWO]
TRACK FOURTEEN: Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner - Fall Out Boy
Secrets and uncertainty, lies and guilt; everything builds up, the pressure forms cracks in their friendships, tiny splinters ready to shatter.
Baekhyun turns in on himself, he stops paying attention to the others when they’re not performing. They play pretend even better than they play their instruments, their act so believable that not even Luhan picks up on the tension.
Jongdae complains with increasing frequency; their sound isn’t how he imagined it would be, the music just isn’t difficult enough for someone with his talent. Neither he, nor Kyungsoo had any say on the song that gave them fame and he’s vocal with his distaste for the track, criticizing the music, the lyrics, the mysterious secret he’s not privy to.
“I fucking hate it,” He spits one night, re-strapping his guitar across his chest, muttering over the screams for an encore. “It’s the worst fucking song, and it’s the one we’re famous for.”
“If you picked the song,” Chanyeol hisses through clenched teeth, tapping his drumsticks together in agitation, “Then we’d still be playing tiny shows in the middle of nowhere, and not doing an arena tour.”
“Cunt.” Jongdae mutters under his breath, but only Baekhyun seems to hear him. Despite Chanyeol’s drastic change in attitude, it’s still Baekhyun’s song he criticizes, and the urge to launch his fist into Jongdae’s defined cheekbones is strong.
“Don’t.” Kyungsoo apparently knows what he’s thinking, resting his hand over Baekhyun’s shaking fist, “It’s not worth it.”
Baekhyun pulls away from the touch, since the incident with Kyungsoo’s now ex-girlfriend, every touch makes his skin crawl. They still kiss on stage, but it feels wrong, the tongue Kyungsoo slides into his mouth tastes like ash, and it’s not from the cigarettes the singer smokes.
Memories of their shows fuse together in a drunken mess of partial memories, Baekhyun relying on alcohol to get him through the day. It’s the first thing he drinks when he wakes up in the morning, there’s vodka instead of water waiting for him on stage, and sleeping is all but impossible when sober. Alcohol becomes less of a pastime and more of a lifeblood as time goes on, numbing Baekhyun’s emotions and soothing his irrational worries.
He finds himself in the strangest of predicaments; lost, drunk and alone, wandering streets he doesn’t know with people he doesn't remember meeting.
It’s mostly Luhan who acts as his saviour, coaxing him through identifying landmarks as he slurs his location into the phone. But sometimes their manager is busy, or openly admits he just can’t be bothered with Baekhyun’s shit, and so the other band members are sent on Baekhyun Retrieval Duty, much to their disdain.
It’s Kyungsoo who finds him one night, his wallet lost during his binge, phone battery rapidly draining as he sways on the sidewalk, dancing to music only he can hear.
“Get in the fucking car, you drunk piece of shit.” He yells through the open window, ungracefully maneuvering their rental sedan to rest against the curb. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
Baekhyun lacks the motor skills to properly buckle his seatbelt, and Kyungsoo refuses to do it for him, muttering something under his breath about car crashes, and how hitting his head on the pavement might actually reset his broken brain.
“You’re beautiful, you know?” Baekhyun lacks motor skills, and a brain to mouth filter, but the words have sitting in his throat for far too long, the weight on his chest lifting as he begins to speak. “You’re so beautiful, I wanna kiss you all the time.”
“Really, now?” Kyungsoo’s grip tightens on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road.
“Really.” Baekhyun isn’t sure if he’s nodding his head frantically, or if he’s drunk enough for the world to spin behind his eyelids. It’s probably both, so he closes his eyes to ease the oncoming vertigo and resulting nausea. “Always. I always wanna kiss you.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t let him speak for the rest of the drive back to the hotel, doesn’t let him speak as he pushes Baekhyun into the mattress, kissing the breath from his shaking lips. Baekhyun sucks a mark onto Kyungsoo’s neck, leaving a purple bruise next to Saint Cecelia’s glowing halo. It feels like a dream, the way Kyungsoo’s hands trace across his body, the way his tongue follows. Kyungsoo swallows Baekhyun’s moans as he pushes in, lips slick and familiar, but pressing against Baekhyun’s own with unfamiliar emotions, tenderness.
He feels so full, both figuratively and literally; sex with Kyungsoo is everything he’s imagined and more. Baekhyun's final dream comes true; he’s got fame, he’s got fortune and now he’s got Kyungsoo. Nothing else will ever compare to this moment, nothing could possibly compare to being loved so intensely, so thoroughly by the man he loves in return.
Baekhyun wakes the next morning on the right side of the wrong bed, cold and alone. Kyungsoo refuses to meet his eyes as they eat breakfast, Luhan pushing painkillers through Baekhyun’s lips in an attempt to quell the oncoming hangover.
He takes a moment to consider that the previous night was just a dream, an illusion brought on by yet another night of too much alcohol.
But then, as Kyungsoo turns his head away from Baekhyun, he sees it; the purple mark on his neck, standing out against the glowing halo of Kyungsoo’s tattoo.
It wasn’t a dream.
Baekhyun feels his heart shatter in his chest.
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TRACK FIFTEEN: Cemetery Drive - My Chemical Romance
There’s a notebook on Baekhyun’s shelf, filled with songs dedicated to Kyungsoo. In his drunken stupor, he sings them from memory. With his voice damaged and breaking, he spills his secrets into Kyungsoo’s voicemail, the prerecorded message the first time he’s heard the vocalist’s voice in months.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers that he’s a pathetic mess, screeching offkey love songs to a man who doesn’t want them, ripping his heart from his chest, presenting it to be stomped on.
Kyungsoo made himself very clear, Baekhyun isn’t someone he wants, the love he thought he felt so painfully one sided. But alcohol gives cowards courage, and Baekhyun takes one last chance at Kyungsoo’s heart.
From: Jongdae
Stop calling him
The first message Jongdae sends him in months is unwelcome, interrupting Baekhyun as he sings. Just the sight of the guitarist’s name has him in a fit of rage, the urge to throw his phone against the wall almost impossible to resist.
To: Jongdae
fuck odf, thsi isnt about you
Jongdae, and whoever else is reading his messages, is more than aware that Baekhyun is drunk again. He makes no attempt to fix his typos, make his message more coherent.
From: Jongdae
You’ve done enough. Just leave him alone.
Everyone seems to know something Baekhyun doesn’t, something else he’s done to earn the brunt of Kyungsoo’s rage, to further his hatred.
People are too confusing, and Baekhyun’s sick of cryptic messages from assholes who only care about themselves.
His phone makes the most satisfying noise as it shatters.
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TRACK SIXTEEN: Reckless Abandon - Blink 182
Album number four brings world tour number one, a year and a half marathon across the globe, accompanied by some new up and coming band that look at Baekhyun with stars in their eyes.
They're all young, pretty and about a head taller than Baekhyun. He'd sleep with them all, at once if at all possible, but getting involved with people on tour is messy business, and Baekhyun’s had enough drama to last a lifetime.
Besides, he can see traces of himself and Kyungsoo in their drummer and guitarist; Jongin and Taemin, their names are, the air around them is thick with sexual tension and boyish rivalry. Baekhyun is civil with them, but watches them with a fascination that one might observe a fatal car crash-- they're a powder keg ready to blow, and Baekhyun desperately hopes he's not around to deal with the inevitable fallout.
Their singer, a pretty girl named Soojung, writes songs that tear boys like Baekhyun apart. Just being in her general vicinity makes him nervous and uncomfortable. She's a sweetheart beneath her cold exterior, and the rest of Alvin Kersh are immediately smitten-- Kyungsoo takes her under his wing, their voices often melding together in stunning harmony, singing sweet, innocent pop songs with accompanying chords from Kyungsoo’s old stickerbombed acoustic.
Baekhyun knows she's nice, but there's something about her stare that tears straight through him, with eyes older than her youthful looks suggest, it's almost like she can tell the type of person he is, what he's done. She avoids him too, probably because of her prolonged exposure to Kyungsoo, but it hurts none the less. Baekhyun has become someone so twisted and tainted, a creature so foul that those radiating with beauty heed a wide berth.
Sehun, the final member of their group, is just as jaded as Baekhyun. The young bass guitarist sticking to him like glue, taking Chanyeol’s place as Baekhyun’s drinking buddy and otherwise partner in crime as the bridges between Baekhyun and the rest of the band continue to burn.
Fucking their way across continents, Baekhyun finds solace in Sehun’s lack of judgment towards his actions, as the younger musician is just as morally unstable and depraved as Baekhyun himself.
“I used to date Soojung,” Sehun confesses one night. They share hotel rooms now, distancing themselves from their respective groups, taking solace in each others company and the welcoming bodies of strangers. The tension between Jongin and Taemin is at an all time high, and Sehun lacks the emotional capacity to deal with them, “Most of our songs are about me.”
“Wow, you’re an asshole,” Baekhyun jests but does not judge, he's heard the songs Soojung sings dozens upon dozens of times, has the setlist and the lyrics memorized. Sehun’s bass parts find themselves ingrained into his muscle memory. Nothing Sehun did to Soojung even compares to what he did to Kyungsoo so long ago, “A real fucking piece of work.”
Sehun laughs quietly, his voice fading into a silence that encompasses the room.
“It's funny,” Baekhyun hates silence. Lack of noise means the thoughts in his head can be heard, and if there's anything Baekhyun hates, it's being alone with his own thoughts, “All our songs are about Kyungsoo.”
“Wow, you're an asshole,” Sehun parrots his earlier words with mirth, “You make Kyungsoo sing love songs about himself.”
“It’s not like I'll ever say it out loud,” Baekhyun laments, resting his head on Sehun’s chest. Their friendship is comfortable, and in another life Baekhyun thinks he could have fallen for Sehun, but Kyungsoo stole his heart and just won't give it back, “So I just say it in songs.”
“That must suck,” Sehun says, playing with the ends of Baekhyun’s hair. Their night out in Tokyo ended with a box of bright purple hair dye and stained tiles in their hotel bathroom. Baekhyun’s not sure if the colour suits him or not, none of his band mates even blinked at his change in appearance, “To love someone so much, and not have them notice.”
“It does kid,” Baekhyun sighs, the tendrils of exhaustion lulling him to sleep, Sehun’s steady breathing enough noise to silence the thoughts in his head, “More than you could ever know.”
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TRACK SEVENTEEN: Intensity in Ten Cities - Chiodos
The best thing about Sehun is that his morals and ideologies align perfectly with Baekhyun’s own. The kid is wonderful company, and offers a non-judgmental shoulder to lean on, he’s Baekhyun’s support system as his relationship with the rest of the group crumbles into dust.
It shouldn’t hurt so much, seeing Sehun make out with his drum tech, Minseok’s hands in the pockets of Sehun’s skinny jeans. Baekhyun feels betrayed, not because he holds any sort of romantic attachment to the kid, or to his drum tech, but because Sehun has claimed, multiple times, that the only reason for him to involve himself with someone on the tour is because he’s irrevocably in love with them.
Sehun doesn’t throw the L word around lightly, part of Soojung’s grievances with their former relationship is the fact that Sehun not once told her he loves her, and they dated for the better part of three years. Quiet, sweaty Minseok, has succeeded where ethereal beauties like Soojung have failed, earning the love of Sehun, who once confessed to Baekhyun that love just isn’t something he believes in.
Baekhyun is filled with an indescribable rage; he and Sehun were supposed to suffer in solidarity, to be loveless and jaded together, brothers united by misery. Sehun wasn’t supposed to fall for a tiny dude in a muscle shirt, mere days before the end of their tour. His fist breaks through drywall, yet another expense the tour insurance has to cover; Baekhyun's left a trail of destruction and heartbreak in his wake, letting other people sort out the colossal messes he creates.
His hand begins to swell something awful, the ache setting in as he struggles to pull the strap of his guitar across his shoulder.
“That looks fractured,” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows are drawn together in concern as he helps Baekhyun with his instrument, “What have you been doing, Baekhyun?”
There are so many things Baekhyun wants to say; suffering, surviving, loving you, but the right words just won't come to him, and so he stays silent, momentary weakness allowing him to find comfort in the way Kyungsoo’s fingers try and soothe along his bruised and bleeding knuckles.
Over the course of the tour, nearing on a year, the all too familiar kiss between himself and Kyungsoo has faded from their show, the break in lyrics where their mouths once slid together replaced by Kyungsoo jeering into the crowd, calling for them to scream louder, jump higher show more enthusiasm than they're already displaying.
This time is different, however, Kyungsoo doesn’t even play his part, using his hands to curl in Baekhyun’s hair, pulling him close and pressing a bruising kiss to his willing lips.
He'll never admit it, but Baekhyun has missed this, the way Kyungsoo licks into his mouth, the feeling of spiked piercings against his lip. Dropping his bass to hang limply from its strap, Baekhyun rests his hands on Kyungsoo’s hips, ignoring the roar of the crowd as he groans against the singers pretty pink lips.
They don't stop, even as Jongdae plays his solo, only breaking for air and taking their instruments back into their hands as Kyungsoo hears the musical cue to join back in with the vocals.
Baekhyun’s hand still throbs, but he plays the rest of the set with an uncharacteristic smile.
Nothing, not even the stormy look on Jongdae and Chanyeol’s faces, can bring his mood down.
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TRACK EIGHTEEN: True Friends - Bring Me the Horizon
“What the fuck was that,” Jongdae hisses, all but throwing his guitar at the tech as he storms off stage, encore over and crowds finally beginning to disperse. “Why don't you just fuck on stage, next time?”
“You never had a problem with it before,” Baekhyun doesn't even spare Jongdae a glance, handing his instrument to the tech politely, rubbing at his shoulder where it aches, the weight of his guitar pinches at the nerves something awful, “So why the big deal?”
“This band is already all about the two of you,” Jongdae says, rummaging around in his pocket for his bottle of Valium, without flinching, he dry swallows three at once, fixing his piercing glare on Baekhyun, “But you had to do you gay shit during my, solo. Take that last bit of limelight that's not yours.”
“What's your fucking deal, man?” Baekhyun asks, rubbing gingerly at his aching hand, both Kyungsoo and Chanyeol remain silent, unwilling to enter the conflict, “It's not about me and Kyungsoo, it's about all of us.”
“It's never been about all of us,” Chanyeol breaks his silence, “This is the Baekhyun and Kyungsoo show, Jongdae and I just play backup.”
“Shut the fuck up, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo joins the argument, his normally quiet voice booms loudly through the empty backstage area, “Have all your STD’s finally made it to your brain or something?”
“So quick to defend the guy who fucked your girlfriend,” Chanyeol offers in rebuttal, smirking as the commotion falls into radio silence, “What, you didn't know? Baek and your little girly had a secret rendezvous in the men's bathroom.”
“You what?” Kyungsoo hisses, Baekhyun see the way his fists tremble in rage. He ignores the way Jongdae laughs in the background and the smug smirk on Chanyeol's face. “Even after you promised to keep your dick in your pants, you still went and fucked my girlfriend?”
“I--” Baekhyun has nothing to say, so he keeps his head hung in shame, gaze trained on his shoes and the sticky backstage floor.
He doesn't see Kyungsoo charge, but he feels the collision, this injured hand trapped between the wall and his back, the sudden impact causing him to cry out in pain.
“You piece of shit!” Baekhyun deserves the punch the lands square on his jaw, the ache along his face adding to the ache in his hand, “You're filth, you don't amount to your weight in fucking garbage.”
“Oh, this is so good, where's the popcorn?” Jongdae snickers in glee from behind them, straining on his toes for a proper view of the action.
“I hate you.” Kyungsoo hisses, pushing Baekhyun against the wall one last time, before storming off down the hallway and out of sight.
“You fucking traitor,” Baekhyun spits the blood from his mouth at Chanyeol’s feet, “Is that how you treat your friends, now?”
“We haven't been friends for a long, long time.” Chanyeol hisses, pushing past Baekhyun as he too makes his exit.
“I'd stay in Sehun’s room tonight if I were you,” Jongdae says lightly, the guitarist so obviously amused by all the drama, “Or in the garbage disposal outside the hotel. I’m sure you'd feel right at home.”
Baekhyun sinks to the floor as Jongdae walks away, cradling his injured hand and trying to ignore the the throbbing in his jaw.
He doesn't cry, no, even at his weakest, Baekhyun is stronger than that.
But he comes awfully close.
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TRACK NINETEEN: Four Words (To Choke Upon) - Bullet For My Valentine
It's hard to find anyone who knows Baekhyun personally who would use a positive adjective when asked to describe him.
Even Sehun, his former kindred spirit grew bored of his alcoholic melancholy, abandoning him to enjoy the honeymoon period with his new boyfriend, leaving Baekhyun cold and lonely with only his bottles and thoughts for company.
Minseok still calls him on occasion, they were never particularly close, but Minseok is the only one he hasn’t harmed personally, so for some reason, the drum tech finds himself holding some sort of moral obligation to be Baekhyun’s sole link to the outside world.
Chanyeol’s break up has been public and messy; with a simple Google search, anyone can find all sorts of photos of the drummer in compromising positions, screenshots of lewd text messages and artfully framed photos of his penis; all sent to a litany of girls throughout the years, none of whom being his girlfriend.
Sooyoung is prolific on social media, and she adopts a no holds barred stance on the breakup, posting scathing memoirs in one hundred and forty characters or less. It deals a massive blow to Chanyeol’s ego and self-confidence, and Baekhyun takes the initial news with a giddy sense of joy; finally, Chanyeol has been hit by the retribution and karma he deserves.
But as time passes and the weight of loneliness becomes harder to bear, Baekhyun wishes he was still in contact with his former best friend. Despite everything, he still worries, and Baekhyun’s self-loathing splits into equal parts-- he despises the fact that he would still come to Chanyeol’s aid if the drummer were to only ask. But most of all, he hates that he’s become the type of person who finds unparalleled happiness in the suffering of others.
Chanyeol’s ego is set to take another blow, Baekhyun learns, as Minseok records the drum track for Sooyoung’s comeback single, a scathing breakup song, full of phrases like better off and moving on. Someone else wrote the words she sings, and Sooyoung’s record company buys the rights with the intention to capitalize on the drama, make money from Chanyeol’s pain.
Baekhyun can understand, to agree. After all, he’s been making money off other people's pain for years. But where Sooyoung’s song is filled with malice and cruel intentions, Baekhyun weaves his own agony through the stanzas he dedicates to other people.
It’s one of the few things that keep him going, the knowledge that there are people out there who are, and by all accounts, inherently more horrible than he is.
Baekhyun is a liar, an alcoholic, the man who breaks hearts and ruins friendships as easy as breathing, but he’s not all bad.
At least that’s what he tells himself.
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TRACK TWENTY: Artist in the Ambulance - Thrice
Desperation isn't a good look on anyone, Baekhyun tells himself, and so he maintains a consistent state of intoxication to stop himself from feeling. The fight with Kyungsoo and subsequent fallout has been nothing but catastrophic, with communication between all members of the band falling silent.
They keep up pretenses, professionalism winning out against petty drama, for the last few shows on the tour, playing nice for the fans, performing to the best of their abilities. The last thing they need is negative reviews on top of failing friendships, and if their enthusiasm to play seems stiff or forced, no one comments on it.
Luhan keeps his nose out of their personal issues; his job is to manage their careers, not their personal lives and they're all being mature enough to keep their conflicts off stage, so the manager really couldn't care less.
The end of the tour, however leaves a break in routine that allows Baekhyun’s thoughts to slither through the cracks in his consciousness. No longer bound by a sense of duty to his fans, Baekhyun is left alone with bottles of distilled spirits and an overwhelming sense of self loathing that cannot be drowned, silenced, or otherwise distracted from.
He's always been self-destructive, deep-seated self loathing stemming from his very core, Baekhyun has a lot of issues he refuses to address or acknowledge, a soul crushing emptiness and dark void in his heart.
Baekhyun hasn't been happy for a very long time, in fact he can no longer recall what is feels like to experience something that isn't emotional agony. There's probably a name for what he feels, a diagnosis and a bottle of pills with pretty promises for mental stability printed on the label.
Alcohol is an easily accessible form of therapy, glass bottles don't judge Baekhyun for what he has or hasn't done, can and cannot feel. It doesn't offer the human affection that Baekhyun so craves, either, and Baekhyun plays with his own hair, coos halfhearted praise into the mirror in a poor attempt to recreate the feeling of company.
The lights along the main road are mesmerizing, Baekhyun’s mind thrums, filled with lyrics he'll never write down as he watches the cars fly past.The early morning sees more trucks on the road than there usually is, drivers burning the midnight oil as they speed their way from point A to point B.
Baekhyun wonders what it would be like to step in front of one. Would it hurt? He might finally feel something, the hollow feeling in his chest starting to overwhelm him, eating away at his very being, corrupting and corroding; Baekhyun’s nothing but an empty shell, and he's sick of it. His hope for happiness diminishes with each truck that flies past.
I wonder if dying hurts, for surely it must cause less agony than being alive.
When one looks to the future and sees nothing but suffering, isn't the logical course of action to take steps to avoid it?
I have lived my glory days in the spotlight, and the last thing I shall see are similar shining lights. The idea is comforting, that there will be lights before the darkness and beauty before the end.
It is better to burn out than fade away, and death brings a certain kind of infamy to a musician that the living can never accomplish. This is my gift to you; as an atonement for all I have done, I give you the fame beyond reason that we all so craved.
Do not mourn, for I have found peace from the everlasting emptiness, and joy in the light before death.
Baekhyun’s suicide note is a mass text sent at a little past three in the morning, to a group of people who won't care to reply.
He's done enough damage, and he takes one last opportunity to appreciate the cold air on his skin before he commits to an irreversible decision.
Baekhyun is at peace, finally.
His ringtone sounds loud and shrill in the empty street, Kyungsoo’s name flashing across the screen. He's tempted not to answer, to lay the phone on the sidewalk and stroll into the oncoming traffic. But if there's one thing he feels more strongly than the emptiness, it's his undying and unwavering love for the man who has no reason to call Baekhyun in his final moments.
“Where are you,” Baekhyun is weak, oh so weak when it comes to Kyungsoo, and the singer’s voice washes over him in waves of comfort, “Baek, where are you, I'm coming to get you.”
“You don't have to do that,” Baekhyun says quietly, “After everything, you're the last person who should be trying to save me.”
“Bullshit,” He says, Baekhyun can hear the tinkling of keys in the background, the closing of Kyungsoo’s front door, “I'm the only person who should be trying to save you.”
“Why?” He's choking up, tears he's been holding for decades finally flowing down his cheeks, “Why do you want to save me?”
“Because if I don't, who will?” It’s not the answer Baekhyun wants, but he'll take what he can get. Kyungsoo doesn't love him, but he wants Baekhyun alive none the less and that's enough to ignite a spark of hope in the swirling void of emptiness in Baekhyun’s chest.
Lying face down on the pavement, Baekhyun dictates his whereabouts to Kyungsoo. He enjoys the feeling of cool air on his skin as he waits for his savior to arrive.
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TRACK TWENTY ONE: Almost Easy - Avenged Sevenfold
Modern technology is truly amazing, and Baekhyun marvels at the shattered remains of his phone as it rings, still functioning perfectly, even after being thrown against a wall. The glass splinters into cracks resembling spiderwebs, they feel rough under his fingertip as he drags the pad along what he hopes is the Swipe To Accept Call prompt on the screen below.
“What?” Baekhyun spits into the receiver, expecting Luhan’s disgruntled voice to greet him with some sort of sassy response.
“Hey,” Chanyeol’s voice hits Baekhyun with a wave of nostalgia, stumbling backwards in shock, he sinks into the plush cushions of his armchair, bracing himself on the cushioned sides, “Is this a bad time?”
“No,” His voice is rough, raspy and oh God, Baekhyun needs a drink, something, anything to help him get through this conversation, “I’m not doing anything.”
“Good.” The silence is awkward, something he doesn’t usually associate with Chanyeol, the two of them possessing the ability to create conversation out of thin air, the talent to converse about nothing for hours on end. “Are you-- are you doing okay?”
“I should be asking you that.” Baekhyun says, “You’re a mess.”
“So are you.” Somehow Chanyeol manages to speak with a tone that’s both lighthearted and serious simultaneously, “Luhan says you’re not doing too well.”
“Luhan is overdramatic,” Baekhyun replies, fiddling with a loose thread along the seam of the chair, casting a forlorn glance at the empty bottle lying innocently on the floor in front of him, “I’m doing okay.”
“I’m not.” Chanyeol admits. “None of us are, really.”
“Sorry.” Baekhyun whispers, rubbing at his eyes, tears burn but they don’t fall, and he attempts to ease the discomfort with the back of his hand, “I haven’t really been here for you guys.”
“We haven’t been here for each other,” Chanyeol corrects, and Baekhyun can tell he’s holding back tears, too, “Maybe it’s time we all met up, had a little heart to heart?”
“My apartment’s always free,” He replies, “You know, if you wanted to--”
“That sounds great.” Chanyeol cuts him off, relief flooding his tone, “I’ll message the others, Luhan, too.”
“When should I expect company?” Baekhyun enquires, “You know, so I can put some pants on or something.”
He’s fully clothed. Baekhyun needs time to clean his apartment, dispose of the empty bottles that litter the once spotless, polished surfaces.
“I’ll let you know.”
Chanyeol disconnects the call, and Baekhyun feels as if a weight has lifted from his shoulders.
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TRACK TWENTY TWO: Friends and Alibis - Escape the Fate
“Oh, I thought you were dead.” Chanyeol snarks as Baekhyun walks into the studio, flanked by Kyungsoo who rests a comforting hand on the small of his back. The singer has taken it upon himself to look after Baekhyun after his moment earlier in the week. He hasn’t been alone in days, but Kyungsoo’s is quietly supportive and in no way stifling, so Baekhyun doesn’t mind quite so much.
“Show a little compassion,” Kyungsoo says through clenched teeth, “He nearly died.”
“Such a shame,” Jongdae drawls from his position on the couch, a worn out piece of furniture older than all of them. “I was really looking forward to all that fame beyond reason that you promised us.”
“God, can you even hear yourselves?” Luhan makes his presence known, barging into the studio's waiting room and slamming the door, the glass pane rattling under the force, “I called you all in here to get over your issues, not act like fucking children.”
“You called us in here, because he,” Jongdae jerks a thumb in Baekhyun’s direction, “Went and did something stupid.Again.
“I’ve got a life outside Baekhyun’s issues, you know?” Chanyeol says, “Is this going to take long?”
“It’s not just Baekhyun we're here to talk about,” Luhan slams his hand on the table as he speaks, right eye twitching in irritation, “He's not the only member of the band.”
“Right, how could I forget Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol laughs, “The man who sings love songs dedicated to himself. God, this is all so pathetic.”
“What--” Kyungsoo’s eyes widen almost comically, gaze searching Baekhyun’s for answers, an explanation.
“You know what, fuck you.” Baekhyun is sick and tired of being at the brunt of Jongdae and Chanyeol’s misplaced dissatisfaction, the constant pressure from the group reacts with his own emotion instability, bubbling over into a rage that shakes his vision with intensity, “You both talk such big shit, but you haven’t got anything to back it up. I’d like to see you, any of you do my job any better than I do.”
“I could write self-loathing love songs for Kyungsoo if I tried,” Jongdae smirks, “Oh, Kyungsoo, you’re so beautiful and I’m unworthy, because you’re actually a pretty decent person when you pull that stick out of your ass, and I’m just a sack of garbage.”
His mocking laughter rings in Baekhyun’s ears, Kyungsoo’s inquisitive stare burns at his skin. Chanyeol’s hysterical cackling echoes around the small room, and Baekhyun breaks.
“Why the fuck would I write love songs for Kyungsoo?” He screams his question, cutting through the laughter. The room falls silent, Chanyeol’s gleeful expression falls into something more resembling worry,
“Why the fuck,” Baekhyun continues, voice softer now that silence blankets the room, “Would I do anything for any of you? You’re all selfish, ungrateful pieces of shit.”
“I--” Kyungsoo starts, “I can’t believe I-”
“You what, Kyungsoo?” Baekhyun turns to face the singer, chest heaving with exertion, body thrumming with unreleased rage. “C’mon now, spit it out!”
“I can’t believe I saved your life.” He replies, voice cold, quiet. Baekhyun feels the colour drain from his face, his rage instantly quietening, “You should have jumped in front of that fucking truck, Baekhyun. Saved us all from dealing with your bullshit.”
“Kyungsoo, I--”
“I think what Baekhyun’s trying to say here,” Chanyeol cuts him off, “Is that he’s in love with you.”
“I doubt that.” Kyungsoo hisses, “People like him can only love themselves.”
“Wow, you fucked up.” Jongdae whistles as Kyungsoo storms from the room, and out of Baekhyun’s life. It’s okay, because his heart is already broken, it doesn’t hurt as badly when Kyungsoo tramples it this time around.
“Go fuck yourself,” Baekhyun hisses in reply, “With a baseball bat, preferably. One with lots of rusty nails sticking out of the end.”
“You’re the over dramatic masochist,” Jongdae shrugs, “It sounds more like your kinda thing than mine, to be honest.”
“Get out,” Luhan sits with his head resting on the table, hands clenched into fists in front of his forehead. “All of you, get the fuck out.”
Their official hiatus begins the following day, Luhan sending Baekhyun the news via text, saying that the decision was made by the other three, without his input.
He’s fine with that, really. If it were up to him, Baekhyun would have pushed for a clean break, pouring gasoline onto the charred remains of the bridges between them, intent on destroying any connection down to the very foundations.
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TRACK TWENTY THREE:Through Glass - Stone Sour
Baekhyun’s doorbell rings, and he’s honestly surprised to see that Jongdae is the first to arrive. He was expecting Chanyeol first, then Luhan, followed closely by Kyungsoo who, no matter how mad, will always arrive precisely on time. Jongdae is the person Baekhyun thought would arrive late, if he arrived at all.
To see him standing at the threshold of Baekhyun’s house, a whole thirty minutes earlier than everyone else, is astonishing.
“Are you gonna let me in?” He asks, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt awkwardly. Funny, how even after years out of the scene, Jongdae still dresses like the guitarist of a thrash metal band. It’s a sense of fashion Baekhyun’s always found particularly appauling, but now, after seeing Jongdae for the first time in so long, he finds it almost charming in its nostalgia.
“Yeah,” Baekhyun says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Yeah, of course, come in.”
“I live just down the road, you know.” Jongdae says as he toes his shoes off on Baekhyun’s welcome mat, “We're practically neighbors.”
“No kidding.” Baekhyun has no idea what to say. Jongdae, who sent him vaguely threatening messages not hours ago, is now in his house, acting like it's been days, not months-- bordering on a year-- since they've seen each other. Even longer since they've spoken civilly like this.
“I've got a roommate.” Jongdae continues, either oblivious to or purposely ignoring the awkward air between them, “I met him through Minseok. He's a pediatrician who listens to heavier stuff than we ever did.”
Jongdae pauses. “Look, I came early to apologize without the other guys around.”
“Right.” Baekhyun can’t bring himself to look Jongdae in the eye.
“I thought it might seem a little less sincere with the rest of them here, like I was peer pressured into it or something.” Jongdae rarely initiates physical contact, but here he is with his hands on Baekhyun’s shoulders, the warmth of his touch sinking through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. “But I just gotta say, no one is making me do anything, okay? I'm apologizing because I want to.”
“I'm sorry too.” Baekhyun says, “I took you for granted, and I treated you like shit.”
“Can I hug you?” Jongdae asks, his question completely out of the blue. “Is that okay?”
“Can I write some songs with you?” Baekhyun asks in reply, opening his arms and accepting Jongdae into his embrace.
“It'd be an honour.” Jongdae whispers, holding Baekhyun tightly.
He's never noticed how nice Jongdae smells, the crisp, clean scent of Giorgio Armani’s Acqua di Gio clinging to his clothes and skin. It reminds Baekhyun of the ocean, the rocking movements of Jongdae’s body as he sways them from side to side furthering the image in Baekhyun’s head. Maybe the song they write together can feature analogies about water and waves as they crash along the shoreline.
For the first time, the lyrics that run through Baekhyun’s head don't further his depression, or make him ache for Kyungsoo. He smiles into the fabric of Jongdae’s shirt, inhaling his calming scent and tightening his hold just that little bit more.
“Cute,” Chanyeol has a knack for many things, and ruining moments is just one of them, “But I'm kinda upset that you started the group hug without me.”
“I'm not hugging any of you,” Chanyeol’s entrance is flanked by Luhan’s, the managers face still unbelievably youthful despite his constant stresses, “You turned me grey, and I’m never going to forgive you for that.”
“I thought you quit?” Baekhyun jokes with the kind of mirth he hasn’t felt in years, “But I like the blonde. It suits you.”
He hasn't seen Luhan’s new hair in person, only heard about it through Minseok’s regular updates on the outside world. The golden colour honestly doesn’t fit Luhan’s still lingering metal to the core attitude, but somehow, he makes it work.
“I could never quit you assholes,” Despite his earlier objections, he pulls Baekhyun into a hug, anyway, “And smiles suit you, kid. I like it so much more than your old jaded rock star phase.”
“Speaking of jaded rock stars, where's Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol asks, eyes fixed on the clock hanging from Baekhyun’s pleasantly taupe walls, watching as the hour hand ticks into place, signifying that Kyungsoo, for the first time in his life, is officially late.
“I’m here.” Kyungsoo has dyed his hair a wine red and removed the line of piercings from his lower lip. Baekhyun can see a new tattoo on his neck; the first non-religious artwork to adorn his skin. Its an anchor, and it sits right next to Saint Cecelia’s glowing halo, in the exact spot where Baekhyun left his mark all those years ago. He's overwhelmed by the need to kiss him, see what it's like without the spikes digging into his flesh.
“Hey,” Baekhyun croaks, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, you asshole.” Kyungsoo graces him with one of his rare, beautiful smiles. The sight stuns Baekhyun into silence.
Chanyeol takes the opportunity to maneuver the two of them into Baekhyun’s bedroom, leaning his weight against the door and shouting, “You're not coming out until you’ve fixed things!”
Jongdae’s laughter and Luhan’s exasperated groaning can be heard clearly through the door.
“I suppose we've got a few things we need to talk about,” Kyungsoo says, still wearing that beautiful smile.
“Yeah, I suppose we do.” Baekhyun replies.
His smile matches Kyungsoo’s in intensity.
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KYUNGSOO’S SOLO, TRACK ONE: Vulnerable - Secondhand Serenade
As it turns out, the rest of the group had gotten over their grievances with Baekhyun almost half a year ago, but he'd unknowingly rekindled their anger by not listening to Kyungsoo’s solo album as it was released.
After years of pining, Baekhyun’s radio silence seemed like rejection, especially to Kyungsoo, who pours his soul into every line, note and verse.
“You’ve been writing me love songs for years,” Kyungsoo says quietly as he hands Baekhyun his phone. The music player is open to one of his songs; Baekhyun pushes play wordlessly, closing his eyes as the opening chords start to echo from the speakers, “So I figured I'd return the favour.”
Baekhyun knows the guitar Kyungsoo uses for his song is the one from his childhood. The stickers are worn and faded, but Kyungsoo still cherishes the cheap acoustic like it's the most valuable possession he owns.
The lyrics to Kyungsoo’s song are almost childish in their innocence, something written for a first love; full of sweetness and adoration, verses penned for someone loved so unconditionally.
And Kyungsoo wrote it for him.
Baekhyun kisses him halfway through the second verse, looping his arms around Kyungsoo’s neck in an innocent press of lips oh so fitting of the song that plays in the background.
It doesn't hurt, physically or emotionally as their lips slide together, so familiar yet so new at the same time. It's not a hunger that fuels them, nor unbridled lust. Just the irresistible need to be closer, to touch, to hold each other tightly and hope to God that it’s not a dream, that they’re here, they’re together, they’re in love.
Baekhyun kisses Kyungsoo, and the only lyrics that flow through his mind aren't ones that belong to him.
------
OUTRO: Thriller - Fall Out Boy
Alvin Kersh (Self-Titled Album)
Thanks To:
Chanyeol:
I’d like to thank us! We couldn’t have done this without ourselves!
In all seriousness, this album is self titled, because it’s our story. Every song is based on our past, and the music we were listening to at the time. It’s also because our namesake, Assistant Director Alvin Kersh of the X-Files series, acted as a primary antagonist until his defining moment and change of heart saved the life of Special Agent Fox Mulder. For us, this is our ‘Alvin Kersh’ moment, our change of heart and proof that even the worst people have the ability to change for good.
Jongdae:
Thanks to Baekhyun for holding my hand through my first time writing lyrics for our band. To the others for not laughing at my attempts. To Luhan for finally deciding to go grey naturally, and to Junmyeon, for making my house feel like a home.
Kyungsoo:
I’d like to thank you, whoever you are, for taking your time to read this. To say I thank the boys goes without question, but I'd also like to thank Yixing for keeping our overly dramatic manager in check during recording. You're an angel. And finally, to my anchor, my everything: I love you.
Baekhyun:
To the rest of the boys, Sehun, Luhan and Minseok, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. To Kyungsoo, who refuses to address me by name: I love you too.
“Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if we got together sooner?” The roar of the crowd is deafening, and Baekhyun yells to be heard over the thousands of people cheering in unison.
“Our early stuff wouldn't have been half as good,” The question was meant for Kyungsoo, but Jongdae responds instead, slinging an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulder, the neck of his guitar digging into his hip. “Your teen angst really made an impression.”
“Bite me.” Baekhyun retorts, his words drowned out by the opening chords of an all too familiar song.
Sehun’s group has joined them on tour once more. Partially because their fans often overlap, their similar sounds reaching the same demographic, and partially because Sehun doesn't want leave Minseok behind when he goes away for months on end. Their puppy love is almost nauseating, though Baekhyun can see the appeal, he grins softly to himself as Kyungsoo laces their fingers together while they wait backstage.
Two years has been enough to mellow them out, the wild after parties and drunken mischief of their previous tour are just memories of an age long passed; Baekhyun spends most of his nights in his shared hotel room with Kyungsoo, and honestly, there's nowhere else he'd rather be.
Except maybe on stage, where Baekhyun shines under the bright lights, mouthing along to lyrics written for the man who sings them.
“We totally warmed them up for you.” Sehun says as he stumbles off stage, body shaking still shaking with the thrill of the stage, sweat adhering his hair to his forehead. Taemin and Jongin filter past, bickering as they always do, Soojung follows closely behind, rolling her eyes at her bandmates antics.
She offers a small smile in Baekhyun’s direction. He no longer feels guilty when he looks at her, the subjects of her lyrics not hitting too close to home, not anymore.
“Hey,” Kyungsoo says, nudging his nose along Baekhyun’s jaw line, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips, “Good luck out there.”
“I don’t need luck.” Baekhyun says, and it’s true. The songs they play are cemented in his muscle memory, he could play his parts in his sleep, if possible. Sometimes, Baekhyun finds his fingers positioned in familiar chords along Kyungsoo’s shoulder blades, as they make music of a different kind, “These are my songs, I’ve lived them.”
“Our songs.” Chanyeol pokes Baekhyun’s cheek with his drum stick.”These are our songs.”
“Of course,” Baekhyun tightens his grip on Kyungsoo’s hand, Jongdae’s arm still slung across his shoulder, Chanyeol tapping a rhythm on the crown of his head as the ascend onto the stage. The lights casts a silhouette onto the ground in front of them; the four of them, together, illuminated by shining globes and their own effervescence.
There’s a road to fame, and everyone gets blinded by the headlights, eventually. It’s taken Baekhyun a while, but he’s finally figured it out; the easiest way to avoid disaster, avoid the inevitable car crash, is simply to stay away from the incoming traffic.