[oneshot] Almost
Title: Almost
Author: dinosaur_smile (exothermiac)
Fandom: Exo
Characters: Baekhyun, Chanyeol, Luhan, Sehun
Pairing: Baekyeol, Chanhan, Hunhan
Rating: R (Trigger warning: suicide, murder)
High school is a lot of things.
Streaks of drool against textbook pages lined with information that become useless and forgotten within a matter of years; a classroom filled with eyes trained on the hands of the clock as it ticked away the time far too slowly; the roar of hundreds of students clamoring through the hallways as they trudged into the school every morning; hands waving through the cafeteria food scented air as people called their friends over to their tables.
There were a lot of things quintessentially high school.
For Chanyeol there was only one.
Luhan.
“Um...I’m Chanyeol...hi?” he tries to say quietly. Unfortunately, his deep voice commands the immediate attention of everyone in the room. All eyes are on him as the teacher thanks him for introducing himself, instructs the class to be nice to the transfer student, and then points out where he can sit. He moves as quickly as he can without tripping over the steps, eyes downcast and hands clutching the straps of his backpack awkwardly. He sets it down by the empty chair and takes his seat as the teacher calls the attention back to the front, breathing a sigh of relief as everyone’s attention moves to the lesson.
He hates math. It isn’t long before he finds himself getting distracted by his curiosity, eyes flickering over his classmates as he fiddles with his pencil. From his seat way up in the stands, Chanyeol can see the entire left section of seats. When his eyes wander away from the whiteboard and over there, it doesn’t matter that he can see all ten faces. All he sees is one.
He spends the next two minutes willing the bell to ring with all his might so that he can scurry over to the handsome boy and introduce himself. When it finally does, he brings himself to his feet as quickly as he can and rushes down the stairs, pushing past all the other people. As he nears the boy, he finds himself face first on the ground at his feet.
Amidst the sounds of the class’s laughter, Chanyeol hears a solitary “are you okay?”. He arches his neck awkwardly and finds a hand extended to him. He grips on without thought, keeping his face down so that no one can see the bright blush that has no doubt crept underneath his skin.
“What’s your next class? I’ll walk you there in case you fall again,” the faceless voice offers playfully.
“Art,” he says so quietly that he can barely hear it himself, clutching his backpack straps so tightly that his knuckles pale with the pressure.
“Lucky you,” comes the response. “I have the same class. Come on, let’s go.”
True to his word, the faceless boy lets Chanyeol trail after him through the building, up the winding staircases, and into the massive classroom. They take the last two seats available, right in the front row. The teacher claps her hands, and all conversations cease.
“I’m Sayoung,” she declares. Brows furrow across the room. “And yes, I want you to call me by my first name. We’re going to spend today on icebreaker activities. There is a pencil and a piece of paper on every desk. I’d like for you to draw your partners.”
Chanyeol grips his pencil lightly as he etches his name into the top corner.
“Chanyeol,” the faceless boy calls quietly. “I’m Baekhyun.”
“I’m Chanyeol,” he mumbles in response.
Baekhyun smiles; warm eyes and bright teeth. “I know.”
He starts first, making sloppy lines to show Chanyeol’s slender face. He tilts his head as he considers Chanyeol’s face again and sees it for what it is: perfect. His movements slow down as he begins to put more effort in, carefully mimicking the soft curve of Chanyeol’s cheek, the arch of his eyebrows, the slope of his nose. His pencil lingers in the air over the space between Chanyeol’s nose and chin, poised to skim across the paper again, but it stops. He takes a shallow breath as he looks from his paper to his model, unsure of what it was that made his insides flutter. As the sound of graphite scratching against paper fills their corner of the room again, the only thought in Baekhyun’s mind is how badly he wants to know what the lips he is drawing feel like.
“Finished,” he hears Chanyeol say, snapping him back into reality.
“Me, too. Switch them at the same time,” Baekhyun instructs, hand extended at the ready. “Three, two, one!”
He glances down at the crudely drawn caricature of himself made with harsh lines and dark smudges. Chanyeol shrugs sheepishly. “I’m not much of an artist.”
“It’s okay,” Baekhyun replies with a laugh. As Chanyeol’s lips quirk into an apologetic smile and he takes the paper back, Baekhyun wonders if there is anything this adorable boy could do that he couldn’t forgive.
}-------------{
Luhan is a lot of things.
Cigarette smoke and beer bought from a cash-strapped upperclassman; lightly tanned skin stretched over lean muscles; teasing winks and casual smirks; a glint of mischief that sparkles in his eyes; a plump and pink scarred bottom lip catching between his teeth as he smiles- or, rather, smirks, because Luhan does not smile.
As he leans in and places a scrap piece of paper on the desk, these things make Chanyeol’s mind explode.
He is gone quickly, disappearing along with the pack of friends. Chanyeol smooths out the note carefully. On it, four simple letters are etched in black ink - four letters that make Chanyeol happier than anything else in his life.
Prom?
He clutches the paper tightly to his chest as he hurries home, rushing past Baekhyun in the hallway without responding to his cheery “hey Chanyeol!”. He pastes the note into his journal.
The note stays there, even two months later when Chanyeol returns from prom, his clothes soaked through with pig’s blood and a meaningless crown tangled in his hair. He ignores the sound of his confused mother pounding on the door and demanding to know why he is in this state, because in his mind, he is still sitting in Luhan’s car; he is still clutching Luhan’s hand in front of the cameras; he is still standing by Luhan onstage.
It doesn’t matter that Luhan’s eyes show no semblance of mercy as he signals his friends behind the curtain to pull the rope. It doesn’t matter that Luhan melts into the crowd as they laugh at the poor little loser who had fallen into the popular boy’s trap. It doesn’t matter that Luhan leaves Chanyeol to fend for himself as he goes in search of a party to crash with his friends.
He strokes the palm of his hand where Luhan’s skin had touched it, blind to the streaks of blood, and he decides that it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter that it’s all a lie.
A lie is all he needs.
}-------------{
Sehun is a lot of things.
Cherry red lips parting as his tongue peers out between them; dark eyebrows furrowed as he scowls at anyone who gets too close for his comfort; the confident strut of someone who has spent a lifetime being told they are beautiful.
These are all the things that Luhan knows of him, at least.
But he wants to know so much more.
“Be my boyfriend,” he says one day as he corners Sehun in the locker room showers after soccer practice. The room becomes so quiet that all either of them can hear is the steady drip of a leaky faucet in one of the showers.
It’s a new experience for Luhan when his cocky demand is met with a scoff and a haughty hair flip, and then the sight of Sehun’s back as he pushes Luhan’s arm aside and storms into the changing area.
Rejection is not an option for people as beautiful as Luhan, is it?
He trails after Sehun uncertainly, dazed by his first experience with someone not blinded by his attractiveness. He watches Sehun’s shadow and makes his decision.
He’ll accept the challenge.
Rejection is not an option.
Luhan gets what Luhan wants.
}--------{
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” his friends tease as they watch him waiting in the hallway for Sehun’s class to end so that they can walk together for lunch.
The casanova Luhan, the beautiful Luhan, reduced to waiting on a silly little sophomore hand and foot. They don’t understand what Luhan feels.
Even the cruel teenage boys Luhan calls friends know better than to make fun of him when he catches Sehun with his tongue down a teammate named Kai’s throat, though. They console him and tell him that he deserves better, but they don’t argue when he appears in the cafeteria the next day clinging to Sehun’s arm.
When a video of Sehun with his hand down Kai’s pants underneath the bleachers in the soccer stadium just a few meters from where Luhan was practicing surfaces on the internet, Luhan’s reappearance with Sehun in the cafeteria warrants a few wary glances between his friends as they consider what they should do.
When Luhan is drawn upstairs in a friend’s house at a party by the sound of someone in pain and he opens the door to find Kai and Sehun, clothes thrown across the room and bodies grinding into each other, Luhan’s friends pull him aside to talk.
“He made a mistake,” Luhan argues. “It won’t happen again.”
But it does.
Kai, of course. And Sehun’s chemistry partner. And Sehun’s friend from summer camp. And Sehun’s math tutor. A handful of their classmates, too.
Again and again and again, Luhan finds himself staring at the floor while his friends eye him judgmentally. They just don’t understand, he tells himself.
Every time Sehun strays, Luhan clings on tighter.
Even after they graduate and move in together in an apartment by their college, Luhan keeps clinging.
Every time Sehun stumbles back into their room from whatever frat party he went to and crawls under the sheets smelling like beer and sex, Luhan winds his arms around his waist contentedly.
Sometimes, while he sits alone in the dark with a glass of wine in his hand as he waits for Sehun to come through the door, he wonders if it’s really about Sehun at all.
Luhan is perfect.
That’s what people always tell him.
All he wants is for Sehun to say it, too.
And he knows he’ll hang in there until Sehun says it.
Because Luhan gets what Luhan wants.
}-------------{
Chanyeol is a lot of things.
The glow of his pale skin in the moonlight as he walks home with Baekhyun at night; a twitching eye and raised eyebrows as he laughs much too loudly; a giant tangle of long limbs as he trips over his own feet and falls to the ground; a bright red A+ stamped on all of his papers.
What he is most of all, though, is perfect.
Or, at least, that’s what Baekhyun thinks. It doesn’t matter to him that people at school call Chanyeol a freak or a loser. The weirder Chanyeol is, the further Baekhyun falls for him.
It is common knowledge at school that Baekhyun likes Chanyeol. Everyone notices the wide-eyed, wide-mouthed stares; the soft heartfelt smiles every time Chanyeol does something cute; the pseudo-casual hand thrown across Chanyeol’s shoulders when they’re both sitting down and he can actually reach.
It’s a surprise to nobody when Baekhyun asks Chanyeol to be his boyfriend. What the surprise is is the answer - a resolute “okay”.
When Baekhyun goes home that night and gives his mom the usual update on his status with Chanyeol over dinner with knees jittering with excitement, he receives an “Oh, good. I knew talking to his mother was the right thing to do”.
His jaw clenches down tightly and he tastes blood mixed in with his mashed potatoes, but he calms himself before his mother notices. He takes a casual sip of water and closes his eyes.
Chanyeol is his now.
It doesn’t matter that it’s all a lie.
A lie is all he needs.
}-------------{
Baekhyun is a lot of things.
The scent of vanilla ice cream sneakily stolen from the kitchen in the middle of the night and dog-eared books with aged leather covers; a shy giggle as he brings a hand up to cover the mole on his lip whenever it is pointed out; the awkward touching of elbows during a movie that he turns into clasped hands; the stray puppy he begs to keep, his eyes wide and lips pouted as he pleads just like the puppy’s; the tickle of his breath against Chanyeol’s ear as he whispers to him in class; the sound of childish laughter ringing through the air as he watches T.V; the wrinkle that forms in the corner of his eye as a result of smiling his entire life.
Baekhyun is a feeling, too.
Like the first warm ray of sun slipping through the cracks in the curtains in the morning, or the feeling of crawling underneath a blanket with a loved one in the middle of winter.
People tell Chanyeol that Baekhyun is perfect.
Chanyeol smiles and nods.
He knows better, though. Baekhyun is near perfect, that much is clear. He is one thing away from being perfect- just one thing away from receiving all of Chanyeol’s love. There is one thing keeping Baekhyun from perfection, and that is the thing that Chanyeol needs the most.
Baekhyun isn’t Luhan.
It haunts them throughout their entire relationship.
Even when Baekhyun changes his college plans to match Chanyeol’s, throwing away the full scholarship he had received to one of the most prestigious universities in Korea, it is Luhan who Chanyeol scurries to sit next to on orientation day.
Even when Baekhyun gives Chanyeol’s roommate the best parking spot on campus in exchange for trading rooms, he is left alone in their dorm while Chanyeol follows Luhan to soccer practice.
Even when Baekhyun spends an hour getting ready for the drinks at the bar that Chanyeol had promised him to celebrate their upcoming graduation, only to find himself swinging his feet from the barstool as he drums his fingers against his thighs, rebuffing the advances of sleazy strangers who reek of leather and marijuana with “I have a boyfriend”, even though he knows somewhere inside of him that his “boyfriend” is most likely in the library writing the essay that he had volunteered to do for Luhan.
When Baekhyun starts running out of things to give up for Chanyeol, he realizes what he has to do.
He has only one thing left to give up: himself.
He laughs and he laughs until tears build up in his eyes and his sides hurt as much as his heart when he realizes that, isn’t that already what he’s done?
}--------{
It's an accident.
That’s what Baekhyun tells himself, at least.
He doesn't mean to look up at just the right time as he is walking home in the rain, somehow managing to find the one person in his life responsible for all his misery.
He isn’t really sure what it is. Maybe it is a sign from God.
More like a gift from God.
This is it, he realizes. He finally has the opportunity to get rid of the object of Chanyeol’s affection. He can finally have Chanyeol to himself.
As Baekhyun finally feels the blood surge back into his legs, he breaks away from the spot in front of the cafe window he had claimed once he caught a glimpse of the eerily familiar barista.
Even though none of them have seen each other since Luhan transferred out of their college to be with Sehun, there is no doubt in his mind who it was behind that counter.
His curly hair is a little longer, his dark circles are a little more pronounced, and maybe it's just the lighting, but Baekhyun is almost sure he sees more wrinkles across his forehead. There is no doubt in his mind who it is, though . He hasn’t aged the past few years well, that was no mystery. His lips moved around words that were lost behind the glass of the window. Baekhyun craned his neck to see who he was talking to, but it was no use. The other figure is completely obscured by the wall.
“Just tell me the truth!” Luhan is shouting at the other figure -Sehun, apparently- as Baekhyun inches the door open quietly and shuffles into the entryway. “Did you cheat on me?”
Sehun stuffs his hands in his pocket and kicks at the ground, shrugging carelessly.
“It’s Kai, isn’t it?” Luhan chokes out, tearing up. “Or is it Kyungsoo again? Or that guy from work- what’s his name? Minseok? Is it Minseok?”
“Luhan, stop, I-”
“It’s Kris again, I know it is. You promised me no more after Kris. How many more times are you going to do this to me, Sehun?”
Sehun just gives him a look, and that was all that Luhan needs to realize the truth. “Look, Luhan- you know who I am. You know I can’t be with one person for too long. I just...I can’t stay with you anymore.”
“What?” he whimpers as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth.
Sehun sighs. “I’m just going to go, okay? I’ll get my stuff out of the apartment when you’re at work tomorrow. Take care of yourself.”
“No,” Luhan begs, reaching over the counter to grab Sehun by the arms. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry I yelled, baby. It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
“Luhan-”
“No, it’s okay! I forgive you, okay? I forgive you! Just please, let’s forget any of this happened. I’ll finish locking up and we can go home and everything will be fine!”
“Lu-”
“No! Please, don’t! I love you, Sehun!”
“Luhan, stop.”
“Sehun,” Luhan pleads, tugging at the fabric of Sehun’s sleeve. “Don’t do this to me, please.”
“Don’t-”
“I forgive you! Let’s just forget this happened, okay? We can go get a drink or something. This never happened. Never happened. Can we just-”
“Luhan, get a grip!”
“I love you so much, Oh Sehun. I love you more than anything in the world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give up for you. There’s nothing I haven’t already given up for you! Just tell me what you need me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”
Baekhyun stiffens, the scene too familiar for his taste. He moves to exit, but as his hand nears the door handle it connects with something solid.
The sound of a plastic menu clattering to the ground catches the attention of the arguing couple and they both find Baekhyun’s figure in the darkness.
“Who’s there?” Luhan calls.
“I should go,” Sehun sighs, offering Luhan a pat on the back.
“Sehun, stay, okay? Please? It’s just a customer, it’ll just take a second, I swear! Please, just-”
Sehun ignores his ex-boyfriend’s pleas, shuffling out of the cafe without another word. Baekhyun watches with intrigue as the reason for his heartbreak had his own heart broken.
He wonders briefly how Luhan will react when he sees his face. He wants to see if Luhan will at least be apologetic for taking away what Baekhyun wanted most. He wants to hear Luhan beg for mercy as his hands close around his throat.
“Luhan,” he says simply as he steps into the light. “It’s been a while.”
Luhan’s brow furrows in confusion, and he moves a hand to wipe away his tears. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
Baekhyun laughs, cold and empty. “I’ve always wanted to hear you say that: I’m sorry.”
“What?”
Anger boils in Baekhyun’s blood as he sees no recognition in Luhan. After all that he’s done to Baekhyun and Chanyeol, he can’t even remember who they are. He scans Luhan’s body quickly, checking for weapons to ensure that their fight will be evenly matched.
Baekhyun pauses as his eyes come to a stop at Luhan’s.
There is an oddly familiar quality to them. The brightness of a young man in love, dulled by the blurriness of too many tears cried in one lifetime.
Baekhyun knows this quality all too well. He sees it in the mirror every day.
How it happens, he isn’t sure, but Baekhyun ends up spending the rest of the night curled up on the counter while cradling the head of the man who was once his worst enemy in his lap, rubbing reassuring circles on his back and whispering that everything will be okay. As the sound of sniffling subsides and Baekhyun can stop his whispering, he realizes that Luhan isn’t the only one he’s trying to convince.
}-------------{
Love is a lot of things.
The shy glimpses of each other caught from behind curtains of hair or through a crowded hallway; the gentle fluttering of initial infatuation; the soft childish laughter of an innocent kiss; the sweaty hands of a nervous first date; the pain and awkwardness of a lost virginity; the rumpled bed sheets of every sexual encounter after that.
In Baekhyun’s life, love was only one thing: desperation.
That’s exactly what he describes the seemingly innocuous plastic bag in the backseat of his car as.
He trudges reluctantly into the apartment, slipping his shoes off and setting them by Chanyeol’s. He enters the bedroom and sets the bag on the bed before quickly throwing it to the floor. It had no business being anywhere near the only place where Chanyeol was Baekhyun’s.
The box is the first thing Baekhyun reaches for. He brings it with him into the bathroom and sits on the edge of the tub as he twists the faucet roughly, sending a burst of icy water out of the metal spout. He is doused in the cold water, shivering violently as his wet clothes cling to his slender frame. He almost stands to go change before he decides that it is very fitting.
He falls to his knees and holds his head steady under the violent stream of water, following every direction listed on the box. As his shivers grow more violent, he is unable to clutch the cardboard box in his hands any more. It tumbles from his grip into the water and is quickly destroyed.
Baekhyun tells himself that he doesn’t wish he were the one that had fallen in the water and been destroyed, but the thought lingers in his mind.
For the first time in his life, Baekhyun does not feel warm. He locks gazes with his reflection before he lowers his eyes, ashamed. He shuffles back into the bedroom and fishes a bundle of fabric out of the bag. The feel of the material is foreign against his skin in more than one way, but he ignores it.
That night, Chanyeol is more tender than Baekhyun has ever seen him. They share their first real kiss, deep and passionate. Chanyeol is too eager to wait for Baekhyun to pull off his clothes, choosing instead to pull at them until they fall apart at the seams.
He is too eager to notice that the clothes aren’t the only thing falling apart in his hands.
“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun whimpers as he feels the cold fingers pressing inside of him. “It hurts.”
“Ssh,” Chanyeol whispers huskily in his ear, pausing to kiss him on the forehead and run a hand through the freshly-dyed blonde hair. “You’re okay.”
Baekhyun opens his mouth to protest again when he meets Chanyeol’s eyes, finally being seen. The exhilaration is enough to dull the pain, and he decides that it is worth it, even as Chanyeol joins their bodies completely. He gasps as the stinging turns to pleasure and begs Chanyeol to move.
He tries not to notice that he and Chanyeol feel like trying to open a neighbor’s door with your own key, or finding a place for a puzzle piece even though it is from the wrong set. For the most part, he succeeds.
When he feels something building in the pit of his stomach and he begins mumbling Chanyeol’s name between strings of nearly incoherent swear words, something happens that he can’t ignore.
Chanyeol almost crushes him as his arms tremble with the strength of his orgasm. Baekhyun admires his face intently as his eyes slide shut and his lips part. “Lu-” His brow furrows as he struggles to sort out his thoughts before he can spit out a throaty “Baekhyun”.
Baekhyun tries not to notice, but there is a limit to the number of things that can simply be swept underneath the carpet.
As Chanyeol collapses onto the bed and gathers Baekhyun into his arms, Baekhyun’s eyes wander over to the shredded remnants of his new Manchester United jersey tossed carelessly to the ground.
He feels the weight of Chanyeol’s arm snaking around his waist and shuts his eyes tightly, doing his best to pretend that it’s really him that Chanyeol is holding.
}---------{
He takes shaky step after shaky step as he makes his way down the aisle nervously. He smiles up at the face of perfection. He recites his vows dutifully, noting with a slight twitch of his smile that Chanyeol is searching the crowd of guests gathered to watch the ceremony. There is no doubt in his mind what it is that Chanyeol wants to find. Or rather, who.
“Chanyeol,” he whispers as the priest looks at him expectantly.
“What?”
“Do you, Park Chanyeol, take this man, Byun Baekhyun, to be your, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; and promise to be faithful to him until death do you part.”
“I do,” Chanyeol answers absentmindedly as his eyes flicker back to the crowd. He turns back and smiles half-heartedly at Baekhyun.“Your turn.”
“I already said it,” Baekhyun said, feeling the familiar burning of tears in his eyes.
The audience bursts into a fit of laughter at the seemingly playful scene before them, blind to what it means to Baekhyun who laughs along quietly and then smiles for the camera.
}-----------{
Baekhyun stares blankly at the slip of paper clasped between his fingers. “Plastic surgery?”
Chanyeol nods and beams proudly.
“Why?” Baekhyun manages to choke out, struggling to force away the quiver that threatened to leak into his voice and betray the smile painted on his face. “Is it because you want me to look like him?”
There is no question about who the “him” is.
“Why wouldn’t you want to look like him?” Chanyeol asks in confusion. “I’ve already talked to the doctor. He says that it’s-”
Chanyeol stops suddenly, staring wide-eyed at Baekhyun as if though he had just been slapped across the face. Baekhyun looks at him strangely, unsure of what had just happened. He touches a shaky hand to his lips and then realizes what he has done.
Before he can stop himself, he does it again. He utters the single syllable that brings the charade they both call a perfect marriage crashing down around them.
“No?” Chanyeol parrots in disbelief. “Why not?”
“I have a face, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun whispers weakly, unsure if it is really his own voice finally escaping from behind the veneer of his infatuation with Chanyeol.
“I know,” Chanyeol says simply. “But you don’t have his face.”
That night, Baekhyun finds a new Manchester United jersey set suggestively on his pillow. Without a word to Chanyeol, who sits on the other side of the bed pretending to be innocent, he changes into it.
That night, Chanyeol pounds into Baekhyun so hard that he draws both blood and tears, then wipes them away with the strips of fabric that were once a jersey.
That night, Chanyeol moans Luhan’s name loudly as his body quivers with the strength of his orgasm before collapsing beside the man he calls his husband.
That night, Baekhyun lies awake in bed and stares at the ceiling before he decides that he knows what he has to do.
That night, Baekhyun digs out the old electric razor hiding in the depths of the bathroom cabinet.
That night, Baekhyun breathes a sigh of relief as the blonde curls that were never his fall to the floor by his feet.
That night, Baekhyun writes a letter, tucks it into the pocket of Chanyeol’s flannel pants, pads barefoot across the room, and opens the window.
That night, Baekhyun catches a glimpse of the real Byun Baekhyun looking back at him from the reflection in the window and smiles brightly for the first time in a long time.
That night, Baekhyun frees himself.
}-------------------------------------{
“He’s so strong,” the guests whisper to each other.
“He has to be,” comes the response. “He has to be strong for the family.”
They all turned to look at the widow now, standing stoic and coldly at the front of the congregation as his husband’s mother cried against his arm.
“Baekhyun-ah, my baby boy,” she gasped between sobs. “Baekhyun-ah!”
Chanyeol’s hand moved against her back with calm, almost robotic motions.
The rest of the funeral is like that for Chanyeol. Robotic.
The guests explain to each other that it is just grief. He’ll cry when he’s alone, they say.
As they move up slowly in line to offer him their condolences, Chanyeol accepts them with a quiet thank you and a handshake.
“Thank you,” he mumbled as one of Baekhyun’s work friends says something meaningless to Chanyeol about Baekhyun’s undying spirit or something. Chanyeol can’t focus, because he’s almost certain he saw a flicker of blonde hair in the corner of his eye.
Sure enough, the next person to walk up and extend his hand is the one person he had been searching for for years. “Luhan,” he exhales in excitement.
“Oh,” Luhan says with his eyebrows raised as he connects this face to the face of the boy who followed him around all through high school and college. “You’re Baekhyun’s husband?”
Chanyeol shakes his head. “Not anymore.”
Off in the distance, Baekhyun’s mother hears that and chokes on her drink, startled by her son-in-law’s coldness.
“You knew him?”
“He was there for me when Sehun and I broke up a few months ago,” Luhan explains, carefully eyeing Chanyeol’s reaction.
“You and Sehun broke up?” Chanyeol asks, eyes lighting up with an excitement that did not belong there.
“We’re back together now,” Luhan insists quietly. “I should go. I just wanted to pay my respects to Baekhyun. He was a really good guy- one of the best I’ve ever known. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He wrestles his hand free from Chanyeol’s grip, unsettled. He scurries away as quickly as he can, but he can feel Chanyeol’s intense gaze on his back and he knows that he’s rekindled something he shouldn’t have.
}--------{
“Hey,” a deep voice calls. Luhan winces. He knows who it is. He doesn’t have the patience to deal with him today. He spent the morning crying and screaming as he tried to keep Sehun from leaving him for Yixing, the newest of his affairs.
“Don’t do this again, Chanyeol. You should go home and mourn with your family.”
“I just wanted to say hi,” Chanyeol protests, walking closer until his palms are pressed against the display case, casting shadows across the neatly arranged pastries. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Hi. Can you leave now, please?” Luhan says as dismissively as he can, taking a quick step to the right so that his fingers graze the emergency button underneath the counter.
“Luhan, I still love you.” Chanyeol reaches over the counter to clutch Luhan’s arms.
“No, you really don’t. I don’t know what this is, Chanyeol, but it’s not love.” His voice quivers as he speaks, and he isn’t sure if it’s because of the fear he has of the hands digging tightly into his arms or the anger he has for the man who drove his kind-hearted husband to suicide.
“It is,” Chanyeol insists. “I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you.”
“Chanyeol, your husband died two days ago.”
“Are you mad because I got married? It was only because my parents wanted me to, I swear! I never stopped loving you.”
“Chanyeol, this isn’t love, okay? You need help!”
“I love you more than anything in the world. I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what you want, I’ll make it yours. I love you with every part of my heart.”
“Get it through your head! The only heart I want is Sehun’s! Please, just-”
Luhan manages to push Chanyeol through the door, locking it into place before the larger man can nudge it back open. “Just leave,” he mouths through the glass. Chanyeol lowers himself and stares at Luhan eye-level through the glass, and Luhan isn’t sure if the desperation in the eyes in the window is his own or Chanyeol’s. His fingers tug at the string dangling from the blinds and they drop from the ceiling to form a barrier between himself and the other him.
}-----------{
“Get out of here,” Luhan snaps, turning his attention back to the phone in his hands as soon as he realizes exactly who the man dripping on the floor is. His eyes lift from the celebrity gossip site he had been reading for hours, narrowing in annoyance as he prepares to snarl at Chanyeol for dripping rain onto the tile. He glances at the puddle forming on the pristine white tile and freezes.
Mixed in with the icy water he sees swirls of red. He looks at Chanyeol, finally, confused by the splatters of red across the beige trenchcoat he always wears and the cardboard box clutched in his hands.
“I brought you a present,” the deep voice declares. Chanyeol moves across the room with the squelch of wet shoes against tile and soaked fabric against skin. He sets the box down on the counter in front of Luhan and then leans in. He grabs Luhan by the arms and kisses him so roughly that his teeth pierce the lips he had admired from afar since their high school days. Their kiss is a far cry from the tender and passionate ones in Chanyeol’s fantasies. Instead, it is tainted by the taste of Luhan’s blood and the tears that Chanyeol hadn’t even noticed were running down his own face. Chanyeol draws back, expression as blissful as ever. He gives Luhan his brightest smile before his fingers slacken around his arms. As quickly as he had appeared, Chanyeol is gone.
Luhan eyes the box on the table unsurely before he lifts it up, startled to find that the box is warm and wet. Drawing his fingers back, he finds them painted with the same red that had been dripped onto the floor. He inches the lid up anxiously.
The box hits the floor.
Luhan always gets what Luhan wants.
Barely a second later, Luhan hears the sickening bang of a gun outside and the dull thud of a body against the wet concrete. The sound vibrates through his body, building up to a long shriek in his ears.
The shrill note doesn’t stop, even as Luhan clutches at the counter and tries to drown it out with his own loud screams. He screams until he is doubled over, gasping for air.
His knuckles whiten as he brings himself back up to his feet. His legs are quaking so much that he feels like he could fall at any moment, but he manages to make it to the door. He clutches the handle tightly as he peers through nervously.
He finds exactly what he expected to find. A mess of long limbs, pale skin, white teeth, dark brown hair matted to a forehead littered with wrinkles that Luhan himself had caused. He reaches down and touches a hand to the skin to smooth out the folds.
His eyes flicker to the gun still tangled in long fingers.
He decides that he wants to kill himself. And so he does.
Because Luhan always gets what Luhan wants.
}-------------{
People are a lot of things.
They cannot be summarized into a list of characteristics.
They are, though, above all, one thing:
selfish.
}---------------------------------{
A gigantic thank you to arealghostgirl, without whom I wouldn't be able to spell my own name, let alone finish writing this monstrosity. Check out her amazing story, Seven Days. And thanks to everyone who read this story~! I hope you liked it! ^^
Author: dinosaur_smile (exothermiac)
Fandom: Exo
Characters: Baekhyun, Chanyeol, Luhan, Sehun
Pairing: Baekyeol, Chanhan, Hunhan
Rating: R (Trigger warning: suicide, murder)
High school is a lot of things.
Streaks of drool against textbook pages lined with information that become useless and forgotten within a matter of years; a classroom filled with eyes trained on the hands of the clock as it ticked away the time far too slowly; the roar of hundreds of students clamoring through the hallways as they trudged into the school every morning; hands waving through the cafeteria food scented air as people called their friends over to their tables.
There were a lot of things quintessentially high school.
For Chanyeol there was only one.
Luhan.
“Um...I’m Chanyeol...hi?” he tries to say quietly. Unfortunately, his deep voice commands the immediate attention of everyone in the room. All eyes are on him as the teacher thanks him for introducing himself, instructs the class to be nice to the transfer student, and then points out where he can sit. He moves as quickly as he can without tripping over the steps, eyes downcast and hands clutching the straps of his backpack awkwardly. He sets it down by the empty chair and takes his seat as the teacher calls the attention back to the front, breathing a sigh of relief as everyone’s attention moves to the lesson.
He hates math. It isn’t long before he finds himself getting distracted by his curiosity, eyes flickering over his classmates as he fiddles with his pencil. From his seat way up in the stands, Chanyeol can see the entire left section of seats. When his eyes wander away from the whiteboard and over there, it doesn’t matter that he can see all ten faces. All he sees is one.
He spends the next two minutes willing the bell to ring with all his might so that he can scurry over to the handsome boy and introduce himself. When it finally does, he brings himself to his feet as quickly as he can and rushes down the stairs, pushing past all the other people. As he nears the boy, he finds himself face first on the ground at his feet.
Amidst the sounds of the class’s laughter, Chanyeol hears a solitary “are you okay?”. He arches his neck awkwardly and finds a hand extended to him. He grips on without thought, keeping his face down so that no one can see the bright blush that has no doubt crept underneath his skin.
“What’s your next class? I’ll walk you there in case you fall again,” the faceless voice offers playfully.
“Art,” he says so quietly that he can barely hear it himself, clutching his backpack straps so tightly that his knuckles pale with the pressure.
“Lucky you,” comes the response. “I have the same class. Come on, let’s go.”
True to his word, the faceless boy lets Chanyeol trail after him through the building, up the winding staircases, and into the massive classroom. They take the last two seats available, right in the front row. The teacher claps her hands, and all conversations cease.
“I’m Sayoung,” she declares. Brows furrow across the room. “And yes, I want you to call me by my first name. We’re going to spend today on icebreaker activities. There is a pencil and a piece of paper on every desk. I’d like for you to draw your partners.”
Chanyeol grips his pencil lightly as he etches his name into the top corner.
“Chanyeol,” the faceless boy calls quietly. “I’m Baekhyun.”
“I’m Chanyeol,” he mumbles in response.
Baekhyun smiles; warm eyes and bright teeth. “I know.”
He starts first, making sloppy lines to show Chanyeol’s slender face. He tilts his head as he considers Chanyeol’s face again and sees it for what it is: perfect. His movements slow down as he begins to put more effort in, carefully mimicking the soft curve of Chanyeol’s cheek, the arch of his eyebrows, the slope of his nose. His pencil lingers in the air over the space between Chanyeol’s nose and chin, poised to skim across the paper again, but it stops. He takes a shallow breath as he looks from his paper to his model, unsure of what it was that made his insides flutter. As the sound of graphite scratching against paper fills their corner of the room again, the only thought in Baekhyun’s mind is how badly he wants to know what the lips he is drawing feel like.
“Finished,” he hears Chanyeol say, snapping him back into reality.
“Me, too. Switch them at the same time,” Baekhyun instructs, hand extended at the ready. “Three, two, one!”
He glances down at the crudely drawn caricature of himself made with harsh lines and dark smudges. Chanyeol shrugs sheepishly. “I’m not much of an artist.”
“It’s okay,” Baekhyun replies with a laugh. As Chanyeol’s lips quirk into an apologetic smile and he takes the paper back, Baekhyun wonders if there is anything this adorable boy could do that he couldn’t forgive.
}-------------{
Luhan is a lot of things.
Cigarette smoke and beer bought from a cash-strapped upperclassman; lightly tanned skin stretched over lean muscles; teasing winks and casual smirks; a glint of mischief that sparkles in his eyes; a plump and pink scarred bottom lip catching between his teeth as he smiles- or, rather, smirks, because Luhan does not smile.
As he leans in and places a scrap piece of paper on the desk, these things make Chanyeol’s mind explode.
He is gone quickly, disappearing along with the pack of friends. Chanyeol smooths out the note carefully. On it, four simple letters are etched in black ink - four letters that make Chanyeol happier than anything else in his life.
Prom?
He clutches the paper tightly to his chest as he hurries home, rushing past Baekhyun in the hallway without responding to his cheery “hey Chanyeol!”. He pastes the note into his journal.
The note stays there, even two months later when Chanyeol returns from prom, his clothes soaked through with pig’s blood and a meaningless crown tangled in his hair. He ignores the sound of his confused mother pounding on the door and demanding to know why he is in this state, because in his mind, he is still sitting in Luhan’s car; he is still clutching Luhan’s hand in front of the cameras; he is still standing by Luhan onstage.
It doesn’t matter that Luhan’s eyes show no semblance of mercy as he signals his friends behind the curtain to pull the rope. It doesn’t matter that Luhan melts into the crowd as they laugh at the poor little loser who had fallen into the popular boy’s trap. It doesn’t matter that Luhan leaves Chanyeol to fend for himself as he goes in search of a party to crash with his friends.
He strokes the palm of his hand where Luhan’s skin had touched it, blind to the streaks of blood, and he decides that it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter that it’s all a lie.
A lie is all he needs.
}-------------{
Sehun is a lot of things.
Cherry red lips parting as his tongue peers out between them; dark eyebrows furrowed as he scowls at anyone who gets too close for his comfort; the confident strut of someone who has spent a lifetime being told they are beautiful.
These are all the things that Luhan knows of him, at least.
But he wants to know so much more.
“Be my boyfriend,” he says one day as he corners Sehun in the locker room showers after soccer practice. The room becomes so quiet that all either of them can hear is the steady drip of a leaky faucet in one of the showers.
It’s a new experience for Luhan when his cocky demand is met with a scoff and a haughty hair flip, and then the sight of Sehun’s back as he pushes Luhan’s arm aside and storms into the changing area.
Rejection is not an option for people as beautiful as Luhan, is it?
He trails after Sehun uncertainly, dazed by his first experience with someone not blinded by his attractiveness. He watches Sehun’s shadow and makes his decision.
He’ll accept the challenge.
Rejection is not an option.
Luhan gets what Luhan wants.
}--------{
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” his friends tease as they watch him waiting in the hallway for Sehun’s class to end so that they can walk together for lunch.
The casanova Luhan, the beautiful Luhan, reduced to waiting on a silly little sophomore hand and foot. They don’t understand what Luhan feels.
Even the cruel teenage boys Luhan calls friends know better than to make fun of him when he catches Sehun with his tongue down a teammate named Kai’s throat, though. They console him and tell him that he deserves better, but they don’t argue when he appears in the cafeteria the next day clinging to Sehun’s arm.
When a video of Sehun with his hand down Kai’s pants underneath the bleachers in the soccer stadium just a few meters from where Luhan was practicing surfaces on the internet, Luhan’s reappearance with Sehun in the cafeteria warrants a few wary glances between his friends as they consider what they should do.
When Luhan is drawn upstairs in a friend’s house at a party by the sound of someone in pain and he opens the door to find Kai and Sehun, clothes thrown across the room and bodies grinding into each other, Luhan’s friends pull him aside to talk.
“He made a mistake,” Luhan argues. “It won’t happen again.”
But it does.
Kai, of course. And Sehun’s chemistry partner. And Sehun’s friend from summer camp. And Sehun’s math tutor. A handful of their classmates, too.
Again and again and again, Luhan finds himself staring at the floor while his friends eye him judgmentally. They just don’t understand, he tells himself.
Every time Sehun strays, Luhan clings on tighter.
Even after they graduate and move in together in an apartment by their college, Luhan keeps clinging.
Every time Sehun stumbles back into their room from whatever frat party he went to and crawls under the sheets smelling like beer and sex, Luhan winds his arms around his waist contentedly.
Sometimes, while he sits alone in the dark with a glass of wine in his hand as he waits for Sehun to come through the door, he wonders if it’s really about Sehun at all.
Luhan is perfect.
That’s what people always tell him.
All he wants is for Sehun to say it, too.
And he knows he’ll hang in there until Sehun says it.
Because Luhan gets what Luhan wants.
}-------------{
Chanyeol is a lot of things.
The glow of his pale skin in the moonlight as he walks home with Baekhyun at night; a twitching eye and raised eyebrows as he laughs much too loudly; a giant tangle of long limbs as he trips over his own feet and falls to the ground; a bright red A+ stamped on all of his papers.
What he is most of all, though, is perfect.
Or, at least, that’s what Baekhyun thinks. It doesn’t matter to him that people at school call Chanyeol a freak or a loser. The weirder Chanyeol is, the further Baekhyun falls for him.
It is common knowledge at school that Baekhyun likes Chanyeol. Everyone notices the wide-eyed, wide-mouthed stares; the soft heartfelt smiles every time Chanyeol does something cute; the pseudo-casual hand thrown across Chanyeol’s shoulders when they’re both sitting down and he can actually reach.
It’s a surprise to nobody when Baekhyun asks Chanyeol to be his boyfriend. What the surprise is is the answer - a resolute “okay”.
When Baekhyun goes home that night and gives his mom the usual update on his status with Chanyeol over dinner with knees jittering with excitement, he receives an “Oh, good. I knew talking to his mother was the right thing to do”.
His jaw clenches down tightly and he tastes blood mixed in with his mashed potatoes, but he calms himself before his mother notices. He takes a casual sip of water and closes his eyes.
Chanyeol is his now.
It doesn’t matter that it’s all a lie.
A lie is all he needs.
}-------------{
Baekhyun is a lot of things.
The scent of vanilla ice cream sneakily stolen from the kitchen in the middle of the night and dog-eared books with aged leather covers; a shy giggle as he brings a hand up to cover the mole on his lip whenever it is pointed out; the awkward touching of elbows during a movie that he turns into clasped hands; the stray puppy he begs to keep, his eyes wide and lips pouted as he pleads just like the puppy’s; the tickle of his breath against Chanyeol’s ear as he whispers to him in class; the sound of childish laughter ringing through the air as he watches T.V; the wrinkle that forms in the corner of his eye as a result of smiling his entire life.
Baekhyun is a feeling, too.
Like the first warm ray of sun slipping through the cracks in the curtains in the morning, or the feeling of crawling underneath a blanket with a loved one in the middle of winter.
People tell Chanyeol that Baekhyun is perfect.
Chanyeol smiles and nods.
He knows better, though. Baekhyun is near perfect, that much is clear. He is one thing away from being perfect- just one thing away from receiving all of Chanyeol’s love. There is one thing keeping Baekhyun from perfection, and that is the thing that Chanyeol needs the most.
Baekhyun isn’t Luhan.
It haunts them throughout their entire relationship.
Even when Baekhyun changes his college plans to match Chanyeol’s, throwing away the full scholarship he had received to one of the most prestigious universities in Korea, it is Luhan who Chanyeol scurries to sit next to on orientation day.
Even when Baekhyun gives Chanyeol’s roommate the best parking spot on campus in exchange for trading rooms, he is left alone in their dorm while Chanyeol follows Luhan to soccer practice.
Even when Baekhyun spends an hour getting ready for the drinks at the bar that Chanyeol had promised him to celebrate their upcoming graduation, only to find himself swinging his feet from the barstool as he drums his fingers against his thighs, rebuffing the advances of sleazy strangers who reek of leather and marijuana with “I have a boyfriend”, even though he knows somewhere inside of him that his “boyfriend” is most likely in the library writing the essay that he had volunteered to do for Luhan.
When Baekhyun starts running out of things to give up for Chanyeol, he realizes what he has to do.
He has only one thing left to give up: himself.
He laughs and he laughs until tears build up in his eyes and his sides hurt as much as his heart when he realizes that, isn’t that already what he’s done?
}--------{
It's an accident.
That’s what Baekhyun tells himself, at least.
He doesn't mean to look up at just the right time as he is walking home in the rain, somehow managing to find the one person in his life responsible for all his misery.
He isn’t really sure what it is. Maybe it is a sign from God.
More like a gift from God.
This is it, he realizes. He finally has the opportunity to get rid of the object of Chanyeol’s affection. He can finally have Chanyeol to himself.
As Baekhyun finally feels the blood surge back into his legs, he breaks away from the spot in front of the cafe window he had claimed once he caught a glimpse of the eerily familiar barista.
Even though none of them have seen each other since Luhan transferred out of their college to be with Sehun, there is no doubt in his mind who it was behind that counter.
His curly hair is a little longer, his dark circles are a little more pronounced, and maybe it's just the lighting, but Baekhyun is almost sure he sees more wrinkles across his forehead. There is no doubt in his mind who it is, though . He hasn’t aged the past few years well, that was no mystery. His lips moved around words that were lost behind the glass of the window. Baekhyun craned his neck to see who he was talking to, but it was no use. The other figure is completely obscured by the wall.
“Just tell me the truth!” Luhan is shouting at the other figure -Sehun, apparently- as Baekhyun inches the door open quietly and shuffles into the entryway. “Did you cheat on me?”
Sehun stuffs his hands in his pocket and kicks at the ground, shrugging carelessly.
“It’s Kai, isn’t it?” Luhan chokes out, tearing up. “Or is it Kyungsoo again? Or that guy from work- what’s his name? Minseok? Is it Minseok?”
“Luhan, stop, I-”
“It’s Kris again, I know it is. You promised me no more after Kris. How many more times are you going to do this to me, Sehun?”
Sehun just gives him a look, and that was all that Luhan needs to realize the truth. “Look, Luhan- you know who I am. You know I can’t be with one person for too long. I just...I can’t stay with you anymore.”
“What?” he whimpers as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth.
Sehun sighs. “I’m just going to go, okay? I’ll get my stuff out of the apartment when you’re at work tomorrow. Take care of yourself.”
“No,” Luhan begs, reaching over the counter to grab Sehun by the arms. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry I yelled, baby. It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
“Luhan-”
“No, it’s okay! I forgive you, okay? I forgive you! Just please, let’s forget any of this happened. I’ll finish locking up and we can go home and everything will be fine!”
“Lu-”
“No! Please, don’t! I love you, Sehun!”
“Luhan, stop.”
“Sehun,” Luhan pleads, tugging at the fabric of Sehun’s sleeve. “Don’t do this to me, please.”
“Don’t-”
“I forgive you! Let’s just forget this happened, okay? We can go get a drink or something. This never happened. Never happened. Can we just-”
“Luhan, get a grip!”
“I love you so much, Oh Sehun. I love you more than anything in the world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give up for you. There’s nothing I haven’t already given up for you! Just tell me what you need me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”
Baekhyun stiffens, the scene too familiar for his taste. He moves to exit, but as his hand nears the door handle it connects with something solid.
The sound of a plastic menu clattering to the ground catches the attention of the arguing couple and they both find Baekhyun’s figure in the darkness.
“Who’s there?” Luhan calls.
“I should go,” Sehun sighs, offering Luhan a pat on the back.
“Sehun, stay, okay? Please? It’s just a customer, it’ll just take a second, I swear! Please, just-”
Sehun ignores his ex-boyfriend’s pleas, shuffling out of the cafe without another word. Baekhyun watches with intrigue as the reason for his heartbreak had his own heart broken.
He wonders briefly how Luhan will react when he sees his face. He wants to see if Luhan will at least be apologetic for taking away what Baekhyun wanted most. He wants to hear Luhan beg for mercy as his hands close around his throat.
“Luhan,” he says simply as he steps into the light. “It’s been a while.”
Luhan’s brow furrows in confusion, and he moves a hand to wipe away his tears. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
Baekhyun laughs, cold and empty. “I’ve always wanted to hear you say that: I’m sorry.”
“What?”
Anger boils in Baekhyun’s blood as he sees no recognition in Luhan. After all that he’s done to Baekhyun and Chanyeol, he can’t even remember who they are. He scans Luhan’s body quickly, checking for weapons to ensure that their fight will be evenly matched.
Baekhyun pauses as his eyes come to a stop at Luhan’s.
There is an oddly familiar quality to them. The brightness of a young man in love, dulled by the blurriness of too many tears cried in one lifetime.
Baekhyun knows this quality all too well. He sees it in the mirror every day.
How it happens, he isn’t sure, but Baekhyun ends up spending the rest of the night curled up on the counter while cradling the head of the man who was once his worst enemy in his lap, rubbing reassuring circles on his back and whispering that everything will be okay. As the sound of sniffling subsides and Baekhyun can stop his whispering, he realizes that Luhan isn’t the only one he’s trying to convince.
}-------------{
Love is a lot of things.
The shy glimpses of each other caught from behind curtains of hair or through a crowded hallway; the gentle fluttering of initial infatuation; the soft childish laughter of an innocent kiss; the sweaty hands of a nervous first date; the pain and awkwardness of a lost virginity; the rumpled bed sheets of every sexual encounter after that.
In Baekhyun’s life, love was only one thing: desperation.
That’s exactly what he describes the seemingly innocuous plastic bag in the backseat of his car as.
He trudges reluctantly into the apartment, slipping his shoes off and setting them by Chanyeol’s. He enters the bedroom and sets the bag on the bed before quickly throwing it to the floor. It had no business being anywhere near the only place where Chanyeol was Baekhyun’s.
The box is the first thing Baekhyun reaches for. He brings it with him into the bathroom and sits on the edge of the tub as he twists the faucet roughly, sending a burst of icy water out of the metal spout. He is doused in the cold water, shivering violently as his wet clothes cling to his slender frame. He almost stands to go change before he decides that it is very fitting.
He falls to his knees and holds his head steady under the violent stream of water, following every direction listed on the box. As his shivers grow more violent, he is unable to clutch the cardboard box in his hands any more. It tumbles from his grip into the water and is quickly destroyed.
Baekhyun tells himself that he doesn’t wish he were the one that had fallen in the water and been destroyed, but the thought lingers in his mind.
For the first time in his life, Baekhyun does not feel warm. He locks gazes with his reflection before he lowers his eyes, ashamed. He shuffles back into the bedroom and fishes a bundle of fabric out of the bag. The feel of the material is foreign against his skin in more than one way, but he ignores it.
That night, Chanyeol is more tender than Baekhyun has ever seen him. They share their first real kiss, deep and passionate. Chanyeol is too eager to wait for Baekhyun to pull off his clothes, choosing instead to pull at them until they fall apart at the seams.
He is too eager to notice that the clothes aren’t the only thing falling apart in his hands.
“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun whimpers as he feels the cold fingers pressing inside of him. “It hurts.”
“Ssh,” Chanyeol whispers huskily in his ear, pausing to kiss him on the forehead and run a hand through the freshly-dyed blonde hair. “You’re okay.”
Baekhyun opens his mouth to protest again when he meets Chanyeol’s eyes, finally being seen. The exhilaration is enough to dull the pain, and he decides that it is worth it, even as Chanyeol joins their bodies completely. He gasps as the stinging turns to pleasure and begs Chanyeol to move.
He tries not to notice that he and Chanyeol feel like trying to open a neighbor’s door with your own key, or finding a place for a puzzle piece even though it is from the wrong set. For the most part, he succeeds.
When he feels something building in the pit of his stomach and he begins mumbling Chanyeol’s name between strings of nearly incoherent swear words, something happens that he can’t ignore.
Chanyeol almost crushes him as his arms tremble with the strength of his orgasm. Baekhyun admires his face intently as his eyes slide shut and his lips part. “Lu-” His brow furrows as he struggles to sort out his thoughts before he can spit out a throaty “Baekhyun”.
Baekhyun tries not to notice, but there is a limit to the number of things that can simply be swept underneath the carpet.
As Chanyeol collapses onto the bed and gathers Baekhyun into his arms, Baekhyun’s eyes wander over to the shredded remnants of his new Manchester United jersey tossed carelessly to the ground.
He feels the weight of Chanyeol’s arm snaking around his waist and shuts his eyes tightly, doing his best to pretend that it’s really him that Chanyeol is holding.
}---------{
He takes shaky step after shaky step as he makes his way down the aisle nervously. He smiles up at the face of perfection. He recites his vows dutifully, noting with a slight twitch of his smile that Chanyeol is searching the crowd of guests gathered to watch the ceremony. There is no doubt in his mind what it is that Chanyeol wants to find. Or rather, who.
“Chanyeol,” he whispers as the priest looks at him expectantly.
“What?”
“Do you, Park Chanyeol, take this man, Byun Baekhyun, to be your, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; and promise to be faithful to him until death do you part.”
“I do,” Chanyeol answers absentmindedly as his eyes flicker back to the crowd. He turns back and smiles half-heartedly at Baekhyun.“Your turn.”
“I already said it,” Baekhyun said, feeling the familiar burning of tears in his eyes.
The audience bursts into a fit of laughter at the seemingly playful scene before them, blind to what it means to Baekhyun who laughs along quietly and then smiles for the camera.
}-----------{
Baekhyun stares blankly at the slip of paper clasped between his fingers. “Plastic surgery?”
Chanyeol nods and beams proudly.
“Why?” Baekhyun manages to choke out, struggling to force away the quiver that threatened to leak into his voice and betray the smile painted on his face. “Is it because you want me to look like him?”
There is no question about who the “him” is.
“Why wouldn’t you want to look like him?” Chanyeol asks in confusion. “I’ve already talked to the doctor. He says that it’s-”
Chanyeol stops suddenly, staring wide-eyed at Baekhyun as if though he had just been slapped across the face. Baekhyun looks at him strangely, unsure of what had just happened. He touches a shaky hand to his lips and then realizes what he has done.
Before he can stop himself, he does it again. He utters the single syllable that brings the charade they both call a perfect marriage crashing down around them.
“No?” Chanyeol parrots in disbelief. “Why not?”
“I have a face, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun whispers weakly, unsure if it is really his own voice finally escaping from behind the veneer of his infatuation with Chanyeol.
“I know,” Chanyeol says simply. “But you don’t have his face.”
That night, Baekhyun finds a new Manchester United jersey set suggestively on his pillow. Without a word to Chanyeol, who sits on the other side of the bed pretending to be innocent, he changes into it.
That night, Chanyeol pounds into Baekhyun so hard that he draws both blood and tears, then wipes them away with the strips of fabric that were once a jersey.
That night, Chanyeol moans Luhan’s name loudly as his body quivers with the strength of his orgasm before collapsing beside the man he calls his husband.
That night, Baekhyun lies awake in bed and stares at the ceiling before he decides that he knows what he has to do.
That night, Baekhyun digs out the old electric razor hiding in the depths of the bathroom cabinet.
That night, Baekhyun breathes a sigh of relief as the blonde curls that were never his fall to the floor by his feet.
That night, Baekhyun writes a letter, tucks it into the pocket of Chanyeol’s flannel pants, pads barefoot across the room, and opens the window.
That night, Baekhyun catches a glimpse of the real Byun Baekhyun looking back at him from the reflection in the window and smiles brightly for the first time in a long time.
That night, Baekhyun frees himself.
}-------------------------------------{
“He’s so strong,” the guests whisper to each other.
“He has to be,” comes the response. “He has to be strong for the family.”
They all turned to look at the widow now, standing stoic and coldly at the front of the congregation as his husband’s mother cried against his arm.
“Baekhyun-ah, my baby boy,” she gasped between sobs. “Baekhyun-ah!”
Chanyeol’s hand moved against her back with calm, almost robotic motions.
The rest of the funeral is like that for Chanyeol. Robotic.
The guests explain to each other that it is just grief. He’ll cry when he’s alone, they say.
As they move up slowly in line to offer him their condolences, Chanyeol accepts them with a quiet thank you and a handshake.
“Thank you,” he mumbled as one of Baekhyun’s work friends says something meaningless to Chanyeol about Baekhyun’s undying spirit or something. Chanyeol can’t focus, because he’s almost certain he saw a flicker of blonde hair in the corner of his eye.
Sure enough, the next person to walk up and extend his hand is the one person he had been searching for for years. “Luhan,” he exhales in excitement.
“Oh,” Luhan says with his eyebrows raised as he connects this face to the face of the boy who followed him around all through high school and college. “You’re Baekhyun’s husband?”
Chanyeol shakes his head. “Not anymore.”
Off in the distance, Baekhyun’s mother hears that and chokes on her drink, startled by her son-in-law’s coldness.
“You knew him?”
“He was there for me when Sehun and I broke up a few months ago,” Luhan explains, carefully eyeing Chanyeol’s reaction.
“You and Sehun broke up?” Chanyeol asks, eyes lighting up with an excitement that did not belong there.
“We’re back together now,” Luhan insists quietly. “I should go. I just wanted to pay my respects to Baekhyun. He was a really good guy- one of the best I’ve ever known. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He wrestles his hand free from Chanyeol’s grip, unsettled. He scurries away as quickly as he can, but he can feel Chanyeol’s intense gaze on his back and he knows that he’s rekindled something he shouldn’t have.
}--------{
“Hey,” a deep voice calls. Luhan winces. He knows who it is. He doesn’t have the patience to deal with him today. He spent the morning crying and screaming as he tried to keep Sehun from leaving him for Yixing, the newest of his affairs.
“Don’t do this again, Chanyeol. You should go home and mourn with your family.”
“I just wanted to say hi,” Chanyeol protests, walking closer until his palms are pressed against the display case, casting shadows across the neatly arranged pastries. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Hi. Can you leave now, please?” Luhan says as dismissively as he can, taking a quick step to the right so that his fingers graze the emergency button underneath the counter.
“Luhan, I still love you.” Chanyeol reaches over the counter to clutch Luhan’s arms.
“No, you really don’t. I don’t know what this is, Chanyeol, but it’s not love.” His voice quivers as he speaks, and he isn’t sure if it’s because of the fear he has of the hands digging tightly into his arms or the anger he has for the man who drove his kind-hearted husband to suicide.
“It is,” Chanyeol insists. “I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you.”
“Chanyeol, your husband died two days ago.”
“Are you mad because I got married? It was only because my parents wanted me to, I swear! I never stopped loving you.”
“Chanyeol, this isn’t love, okay? You need help!”
“I love you more than anything in the world. I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what you want, I’ll make it yours. I love you with every part of my heart.”
“Get it through your head! The only heart I want is Sehun’s! Please, just-”
Luhan manages to push Chanyeol through the door, locking it into place before the larger man can nudge it back open. “Just leave,” he mouths through the glass. Chanyeol lowers himself and stares at Luhan eye-level through the glass, and Luhan isn’t sure if the desperation in the eyes in the window is his own or Chanyeol’s. His fingers tug at the string dangling from the blinds and they drop from the ceiling to form a barrier between himself and the other him.
}-----------{
“Get out of here,” Luhan snaps, turning his attention back to the phone in his hands as soon as he realizes exactly who the man dripping on the floor is. His eyes lift from the celebrity gossip site he had been reading for hours, narrowing in annoyance as he prepares to snarl at Chanyeol for dripping rain onto the tile. He glances at the puddle forming on the pristine white tile and freezes.
Mixed in with the icy water he sees swirls of red. He looks at Chanyeol, finally, confused by the splatters of red across the beige trenchcoat he always wears and the cardboard box clutched in his hands.
“I brought you a present,” the deep voice declares. Chanyeol moves across the room with the squelch of wet shoes against tile and soaked fabric against skin. He sets the box down on the counter in front of Luhan and then leans in. He grabs Luhan by the arms and kisses him so roughly that his teeth pierce the lips he had admired from afar since their high school days. Their kiss is a far cry from the tender and passionate ones in Chanyeol’s fantasies. Instead, it is tainted by the taste of Luhan’s blood and the tears that Chanyeol hadn’t even noticed were running down his own face. Chanyeol draws back, expression as blissful as ever. He gives Luhan his brightest smile before his fingers slacken around his arms. As quickly as he had appeared, Chanyeol is gone.
Luhan eyes the box on the table unsurely before he lifts it up, startled to find that the box is warm and wet. Drawing his fingers back, he finds them painted with the same red that had been dripped onto the floor. He inches the lid up anxiously.
The box hits the floor.
Luhan always gets what Luhan wants.
Barely a second later, Luhan hears the sickening bang of a gun outside and the dull thud of a body against the wet concrete. The sound vibrates through his body, building up to a long shriek in his ears.
The shrill note doesn’t stop, even as Luhan clutches at the counter and tries to drown it out with his own loud screams. He screams until he is doubled over, gasping for air.
His knuckles whiten as he brings himself back up to his feet. His legs are quaking so much that he feels like he could fall at any moment, but he manages to make it to the door. He clutches the handle tightly as he peers through nervously.
He finds exactly what he expected to find. A mess of long limbs, pale skin, white teeth, dark brown hair matted to a forehead littered with wrinkles that Luhan himself had caused. He reaches down and touches a hand to the skin to smooth out the folds.
His eyes flicker to the gun still tangled in long fingers.
He decides that he wants to kill himself. And so he does.
Because Luhan always gets what Luhan wants.
}-------------{
People are a lot of things.
They cannot be summarized into a list of characteristics.
They are, though, above all, one thing:
selfish.
}---------------------------------{
A gigantic thank you to arealghostgirl, without whom I wouldn't be able to spell my own name, let alone finish writing this monstrosity. Check out her amazing story, Seven Days. And thanks to everyone who read this story~! I hope you liked it! ^^