[exo] at the end of the day
at the end of the day
also Thoughts on Krisbaek
also Un-Beta'ed Word Vomit
MMA 2013
Everyone is laughing and crying and celebrating, but Kris doesn’t see any of that. What he sees is Baekhyun, the boy who is the most worthy, who deserves the award the most, holding back his tears because he doesn’t think he has the right to cry just yet. Kris sees a boy, barely of age, standing strong and alone, a boy who has lines and shadows on his face not befitting his age, results of nights of endless practice, sweat forming little puddles on the parquetted floor of the cloud room, blood congregating at his feet when he refused to stop just because of a tiny ankle injury.
Kris knows that some fans think that Baekhyun is fake, that Baekhyun shouldn’t even be in their team because he had only trained for a year, that Baekhyun wasn’t deserving. No one knows how often Kris had peered into the vocal training room to see Baekhyun singing while planking to train his diaphragm, no one knows how he was firmly rejected when he had tried to push Baekhyun out of the dance practice room for lunch. Kris knows so clearly, that Baekhyun isn’t anything less of deserving. What Baekhyun is, instead, is someone willing to work for what he wants to achieve, someone who yearns for recognition, someone who needs to be constantly reassured that yes, he deserves everything he gets.
Kris sees a boy so dedicated yet so humble, and all he wants to do right now is to walk over to him and tell him just how much he is worth, that just because he trained for the shortest period of time doesn’t mean he is any less of what the other members are.
So Kris does just that. He walks over to Baekhyun amidst all the noise and celebration, to the boy staring out at the fans with watery eyes. He brings Baekhyun close with an arm around his waist, just for a moment, to give Baekhyun the silent reassurance as a leader. Kris squeezes Baekhyun’s waist lightly, the way he always does when he knows Baekhyun is feeling down. What Baekhyun understands is this - that duizhang thinks you are worthy, that duizhang will always be right next to you, giving you his support when you feel too burdened by the superiority of the other members, that duizhang will always, always be there to catch you when you fall. Kris’ hands linger on Baekhyun’s waist just a little longer than it should, and Baekhyun knows that this is what he would give up the world for.
If Baekhyun were a ship, Kris would be his anchor. Kris prevents him from floating away, losing himself in his sea of insecurities. When storms come, Baekhyun holds onto Kris as tightly as he can because he knows that Kris is the only person who can save him from capsizing when his own thoughts overwhelm him.
That night, they sit out on the balcony next to each other, watching Seoul’s night skyline. They can’t really see the stars from where they are, but they both like the light-polluted skies enough to seek solace on the quiet balcony, to catch their breath from the chaotic rush from one venue to another. (Sometimes it feels like they sleep more in their vans on commute than under their covers back in the apartment.) Baekhyun rests his head on Kris’ broader shoulders and sighs in exhaustion as Kris places his hand on Baekhyun’s thigh, large and warm and patting the fatigue out of Baekhyun. It is at times like this that Baekhyun wishes they weren’t celebrities, that they were just two normal boys seeking each other out for comfort when things get tough.
They sit quietly like this until it gets too cold out and Kris says they ought to go back in before they catch a cold, and Baekhyun gives him a small smile, one that has so much meaning behind it, words that Kris hears without Baekhyun even opening his mouth. Because that is just the way they are - words disappearing into the cold winter air, everything conveyed in the small, seemingly insignificant touches and brief glances. Kris doesn’t touch him a lot, but every single touch hides so much meaning, every single time Kris’ fingertips graze Baekhyun’s arm, every single time Kris deliberately places his palm over Baekhyun’s in their pre-performance team cheers, every single time.
Kris makes love to him slow and gentle that night, and it makes Baekhyun feel so loved and so blessed that he lets out a sob midway. Kris swallows Baekhyun’s broken sobs as Baekhyun arches into the curve of Kris’ body over his, and the contact of their bodies makes Baekhyun shudder, afraid that his heart would explode from his love towards Kris. But having his heart explode isn’t all that bad, he thinks, because then his love for Kris would be finally, properly, circulating all around his body in his blood, through his fingers, down his legs; it would be impossible to get it out of his system even if he wanted to.
Baekhyun’s friend had once asked him how often they say I love you and Baekhyun realized that they don’t say it that often at all. Baekhyun used to say I love you a lot to his previous partners, used to throw those three words around like they meant nothing - and maybe they really meant nothing, back when he hadn’t met Kris. He’d say them to anyone, everyone, any girl who asked him out, any boy who kissed him. He always felt that those words were cheap, that anyone could say them without actually loving someone else, that love, for all the sonnets written and symphonies performed, was incredibly trivial.
But then he met Kris, and things changed. His notions on what love was, what love should be, and what love could be, took a complete turn. Baekhyun had finally, finally met someone who made his heart race, who made him shy and made him blush and made him truly, genuinely happy. Unfortunately for him, the first time Baekhyun had actually mustered enough courage to say that he loved Kris, Kris had laughed in his face and said, “Am I supposed to take you seriously? I mean, don’t you say that to everyone, though?” Kris had thought that Baekhyun was joking, that Baekhyun meant it like they were just friends. The problem was that Baekhyun didn’t know how to convince Kris that he was being completely serious about his feelings. What was even worse was that Baekhyun hadn’t seen the bitterness in Kris’ smile, hadn’t heard the falseness behind Kris’ laugh.
Baekhyun had learnt from Kris that love, more often than not, could not be put in words. Kris taught him how to show love, how to say it like he means it, and most importantly, how to love. Baekhyun learnt that love was in the scarf (Kris’ scarf) carefully arranged around his neck, in the messy handwriting on neon yellow notepaper next to Baekhyun’s pillow as he sleeps, in the thermos of hot tea when Baekhyun was down with a cold, in the ticket stub in his wallet for last night’s movie, in his hair, in his eyes, everywhere. Love was everywhere. Love was in the red-orange leaves by the stone bench next to the two of them; love was in the two inches between them in the elevator; love was in the quietness in their bedroom right before they fell asleep.
Love is like the wind, you can’t see it but you can feel it. Feel it the way they lock their fingers together just tight enough to feel secure; feel it the way everything else melts away when they look at each other; feel it the way scathing remarks and unkind gazes mean absolutely nothing to them because at the end of the day, what matters is that they are together.
also Thoughts on Krisbaek
also Un-Beta'ed Word Vomit
MMA 2013
Everyone is laughing and crying and celebrating, but Kris doesn’t see any of that. What he sees is Baekhyun, the boy who is the most worthy, who deserves the award the most, holding back his tears because he doesn’t think he has the right to cry just yet. Kris sees a boy, barely of age, standing strong and alone, a boy who has lines and shadows on his face not befitting his age, results of nights of endless practice, sweat forming little puddles on the parquetted floor of the cloud room, blood congregating at his feet when he refused to stop just because of a tiny ankle injury.
Kris knows that some fans think that Baekhyun is fake, that Baekhyun shouldn’t even be in their team because he had only trained for a year, that Baekhyun wasn’t deserving. No one knows how often Kris had peered into the vocal training room to see Baekhyun singing while planking to train his diaphragm, no one knows how he was firmly rejected when he had tried to push Baekhyun out of the dance practice room for lunch. Kris knows so clearly, that Baekhyun isn’t anything less of deserving. What Baekhyun is, instead, is someone willing to work for what he wants to achieve, someone who yearns for recognition, someone who needs to be constantly reassured that yes, he deserves everything he gets.
Kris sees a boy so dedicated yet so humble, and all he wants to do right now is to walk over to him and tell him just how much he is worth, that just because he trained for the shortest period of time doesn’t mean he is any less of what the other members are.
So Kris does just that. He walks over to Baekhyun amidst all the noise and celebration, to the boy staring out at the fans with watery eyes. He brings Baekhyun close with an arm around his waist, just for a moment, to give Baekhyun the silent reassurance as a leader. Kris squeezes Baekhyun’s waist lightly, the way he always does when he knows Baekhyun is feeling down. What Baekhyun understands is this - that duizhang thinks you are worthy, that duizhang will always be right next to you, giving you his support when you feel too burdened by the superiority of the other members, that duizhang will always, always be there to catch you when you fall. Kris’ hands linger on Baekhyun’s waist just a little longer than it should, and Baekhyun knows that this is what he would give up the world for.
If Baekhyun were a ship, Kris would be his anchor. Kris prevents him from floating away, losing himself in his sea of insecurities. When storms come, Baekhyun holds onto Kris as tightly as he can because he knows that Kris is the only person who can save him from capsizing when his own thoughts overwhelm him.
That night, they sit out on the balcony next to each other, watching Seoul’s night skyline. They can’t really see the stars from where they are, but they both like the light-polluted skies enough to seek solace on the quiet balcony, to catch their breath from the chaotic rush from one venue to another. (Sometimes it feels like they sleep more in their vans on commute than under their covers back in the apartment.) Baekhyun rests his head on Kris’ broader shoulders and sighs in exhaustion as Kris places his hand on Baekhyun’s thigh, large and warm and patting the fatigue out of Baekhyun. It is at times like this that Baekhyun wishes they weren’t celebrities, that they were just two normal boys seeking each other out for comfort when things get tough.
They sit quietly like this until it gets too cold out and Kris says they ought to go back in before they catch a cold, and Baekhyun gives him a small smile, one that has so much meaning behind it, words that Kris hears without Baekhyun even opening his mouth. Because that is just the way they are - words disappearing into the cold winter air, everything conveyed in the small, seemingly insignificant touches and brief glances. Kris doesn’t touch him a lot, but every single touch hides so much meaning, every single time Kris’ fingertips graze Baekhyun’s arm, every single time Kris deliberately places his palm over Baekhyun’s in their pre-performance team cheers, every single time.
Kris makes love to him slow and gentle that night, and it makes Baekhyun feel so loved and so blessed that he lets out a sob midway. Kris swallows Baekhyun’s broken sobs as Baekhyun arches into the curve of Kris’ body over his, and the contact of their bodies makes Baekhyun shudder, afraid that his heart would explode from his love towards Kris. But having his heart explode isn’t all that bad, he thinks, because then his love for Kris would be finally, properly, circulating all around his body in his blood, through his fingers, down his legs; it would be impossible to get it out of his system even if he wanted to.
Baekhyun’s friend had once asked him how often they say I love you and Baekhyun realized that they don’t say it that often at all. Baekhyun used to say I love you a lot to his previous partners, used to throw those three words around like they meant nothing - and maybe they really meant nothing, back when he hadn’t met Kris. He’d say them to anyone, everyone, any girl who asked him out, any boy who kissed him. He always felt that those words were cheap, that anyone could say them without actually loving someone else, that love, for all the sonnets written and symphonies performed, was incredibly trivial.
But then he met Kris, and things changed. His notions on what love was, what love should be, and what love could be, took a complete turn. Baekhyun had finally, finally met someone who made his heart race, who made him shy and made him blush and made him truly, genuinely happy. Unfortunately for him, the first time Baekhyun had actually mustered enough courage to say that he loved Kris, Kris had laughed in his face and said, “Am I supposed to take you seriously? I mean, don’t you say that to everyone, though?” Kris had thought that Baekhyun was joking, that Baekhyun meant it like they were just friends. The problem was that Baekhyun didn’t know how to convince Kris that he was being completely serious about his feelings. What was even worse was that Baekhyun hadn’t seen the bitterness in Kris’ smile, hadn’t heard the falseness behind Kris’ laugh.
Baekhyun had learnt from Kris that love, more often than not, could not be put in words. Kris taught him how to show love, how to say it like he means it, and most importantly, how to love. Baekhyun learnt that love was in the scarf (Kris’ scarf) carefully arranged around his neck, in the messy handwriting on neon yellow notepaper next to Baekhyun’s pillow as he sleeps, in the thermos of hot tea when Baekhyun was down with a cold, in the ticket stub in his wallet for last night’s movie, in his hair, in his eyes, everywhere. Love was everywhere. Love was in the red-orange leaves by the stone bench next to the two of them; love was in the two inches between them in the elevator; love was in the quietness in their bedroom right before they fell asleep.
Love is like the wind, you can’t see it but you can feel it. Feel it the way they lock their fingers together just tight enough to feel secure; feel it the way everything else melts away when they look at each other; feel it the way scathing remarks and unkind gazes mean absolutely nothing to them because at the end of the day, what matters is that they are together.