i'm not angry anymore (well sometimes i am) ; chanbaek [rockband!au]
Title: I'm not angry anymore (well sometimes i am)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Chanyeol/Baekhyun, side!Sehun/Jongdae
Wordcount: 19,7k
Warning: unbetaed, language, sex scenes, failed attempts at a lot of things
Disclaimer: EXO belongs to themselves and SME
Notes: Sequel to Apetite for destruction, I suggest you to go and read it otherwise I'm not sure this would make anysense.
Title taken from Paramore's Interlude, it's a short cute song, I suggest you to listen to it, because it's Chanyeol in a nutshell.
Summary: Chanyeol is dumb, Baekhyun is dumb too, so they make a pretty dumb couple. The rest is useless drama.
“Do you think we'll get to play in Milton Keynes one day?”
Baekhyun glances at him from where he's spread out on Chanyeol's bed, legs dangling off the edge, his long fingers keeping the book he's reading from shutting close. Chanyeol sees the haziness in his boyfriend's eyes slowly fading away as Baekhyun finally registers, a second too late, the words Chanyeol just said. The latter simply waits, more than used by now to the multiple layers of worlds and adventures Baekhyun buries himself under when he reads. He lets the seconds tick by as he asbentmindedly strums his guitar, patiently waiting for Baekhyun to come back to him.
“Hum?” Baekhyun's mumble comes a few seconds too late to fill the silence, but Chanyeol still humors him -like he always does- and opens his mouth to repeat his words. He's stopped in his tracks when Baekhyun beams at him.“Milton Keynes? Isn't that the place where Green Day play in that DVD you like so much?”
Chanyeol nods as he puts his guitar pick between the neck and the chords. He lets his fingers slide down the back of his guitar's neck, pride engulfing him when the tiny little marks his fingertips ghost over remind him of everything they achieved since he bought this guitar.
“So? Do you think we'll be as famous in England as we are here one day?”
Baekhyun seems to think for a moment, his eyebrows scrunched together under his messy ash blonde locks -he dyed his hair a couple of months ago after getting bored of the purple he was sporting back then, but Chanyeol isn't going to complain, ash blonde is nice, ash blonde is cute- before finally shrugging.
“I don't know. Is it that important? I mean, what's so great about England, after all?”
Chanyeol gasps and pretends to be deeply outraged as he clenches his hand on his heart. Baekhyun giggles and puts a picture of the Infernal Trio -meaning Jongdae, Chanyeol and Baekhyun himself- taken in Baekhyun's basement as a bookmark in his book before shutting it close.
“England is like the fucking graal, Baekhyun. I'm pretty sure there's a special place in Heaven for all the rock bands who broke the English charts.” Chanyeol puts away his guitar before joining Baekhyun on his-their bed. They could totally afford a larger bed now, even an imitation of the Emperor of Japan's bed with silk sheets and everything if they wanted, but none of them has brought it up. Everything is changing so fast around them that Chanyeol gets dizzy sometimes, and it's nice to be able to come home without the furniture screaming rock’n’roll stars and millions of albums sold at them. He guesses that's why the five of them still live together, and also why Zitao still has to throw a cushion at their old TV to turn it on -because only Zitao can hit the right spot and they're all lazy bitches-- but Chanyeol likes their bed for different reasons. Baekyun sleeps in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, totally unaware of the fact that he's not the only one in bed, but Chanyeol doesn't mind, even when he can't fit his legs on the mattress. The bed is so small that all the space Baekhyun takes for his own sleeping comfort turns out to be Chanyeol's personal space, and waking up with one of Baekhyun's legs thrown over his thighs and his boyfriend curled up against his side definitely makes it up for all the nasty colds he catches when Baekhyun takes the blanket hostage.
“I don't know about you, but I'm willing to do anything if it means I can party with Freddy Mercury up there,” Chanyeol cackles.
“Are you?”
Chanyeol blinks a few times, taken aback by the splinters of seriousness cutting the usually warm chocolate of Baekhyun's eyes. It's too late for Baekhyun to look this serious, and it's so out of context that Chanyeol genuinely wonders if he blacked out for a minute. Is he that tired? Baekhyun's eyes keep digging their way into his, and Chanyeol squirms uncomfortably. He feels like there's another gap between them, except that this time, he's the one left behind and Baekhyun doesn't let him catch up.
“Uh?” Chanyeol asks, lost. Baekhyun's eyes only get heavier on him.
“Are you? Willing to do anything to make it?”
“Why-yeah, of course,” Chanyeol stutters confusedly. He forrows his eyebrows. “Is this about us being here while Jongdae is still working in the studio? Because-I mean, it's his choice. You know he writes better at night, that doesn't mean he's doing all the work on his own, and I'm pretty sure--”
Baekhyun shuts him down by pressing his index finger on Chanyeol's lips, whose eyes grow even bigger. Baekhyun patiently waits for them to get back to a normal size -as normal as it can be considering that it's Chanyeol- before he slides his hand along Chanyeol's jaw. He curls his thumb to stroke Chanyeol's chin and lets his eyes wander over his boyfriend's features. Chanyeol knows he should ask what it's all about, but he can't bring himself to do it. There's love in Baekhyun's eyes, sweet and affectionate, but the splinters are still there, and the constrast is definitely not as breathtaking as his ash blonde locks against the milkiness of his skin.
“Baek?”
“Then do it.” Baekhyun's eyes stop on Chanyeol's lips, and Chanyeol shudders. “Do what it takes to make it, okay?”
Chanyeol nods wordlessly as Baekhyun reduces the distance between them to nothing. He wants to say something so bad, he wants to ad that it's ridiculous because, of course he's going to work hard -play hard work harder isn't it their motto?- and it's not like Baekhyun will let them slacken anyway, not when he's the one saying everyday that it's their third album, and it needs to be great. Chanyeol wants to stop Baekhyun from kissing him, because even if he can't see the splinters behind Baekhyun's closed eyelids, he still can feel them in the way Baekhyun's fingers thread into his hair at the nape of his neck. When their lips meet though, Chanyeol lets go, maybe too easily, and tilts his head to kiss Baekhyun deeper.
Chanyeol can't ignore the thin layer of fear all over his body, but the electricity running down his spine when Baekhyun moans in his mouth gets the upper hand. It's better like that, he figures, better to suffocate his brain with the lack of blood that's currently going south than thinking about what seemed to be lingering under the dark surface of Baekhyun's eyes. It's probably nothing anyway, they're all nervous after all, and it'll be better once the album done.
If it turns out incredibly easy to shut down his brain, Chanyeol quickly finds out that the feeling is harder to get rid of as his fingers scrabble Baekhyun's shirt. Making love with Baekhyun was always about feeling things after all, even the first times when they were still new to this. Chanyeol already knew Baekhyun was meant to stay in his arms, and so he spent every second of their embraces feeling the heat radiating from their bodies and the red string of fate tightening around their wrists. How could he possibly bring himself to stop feeling now, as he lets his fingertips wander on Baekhyun's chest just for the sake of feeling his boyfriend shudder, or as he presses their naked bodies together to collect the impatience that makes Baekhyun's back arch. Something tells him that Baekhyun feels it too, how they move so out of time tonight, because he doesn't open his eyes a single time, or doesn't whisper Chanyeol's name like he's used to do so. The gap is back between them, because Chanyeol is slow and languid, body focused on creating and giving form to a whole set of sensations and fireworks he'll have his whole life to feel blooming on his skin and bones, but Baekhyun is fast and sharp. He's barely one heartbeat ahead of Chanyeol, but it's more than enough to insult the harmony they've always known. Chanyeol tries, skin crackling under that same feeling that something is wrong, but he finds himself breathless too soon as he desperately tries to catch up with Baekhyun, the latter seeming even more desperate to take hold of all the emotions and sensations Chanyeol has been piling up for the rest of their lives together.
Chanyeol should have known better.
“Earth to Chanyeol, I repeat, Earth to Chanyeol!”
Chanyeol blinks when Baekhyun snaps his fingers in front of his face, and it takes him a few seconds to remember why they're not in their bedroom anymore, and that the said bedroom is actually his, and only his now.
“What were you thinking about? Damn, was I talking to myself the whole time?” Baekhyun chuckles, and Chanyeol takes in his bright face. Baekhyun's hair isn't of that beautiful shade of blonde anymore, it's black, just plain black, like it was when they were in high school. His locks aren't messy though, they're shining like silk and nicely styled, framing Baekhyun's delicate face with slight ripples. Chanyeol and Jongdae used to count the seasons using Baekhyun's habit to dye his hair a little too often, but it looks like they've been living in a never-ending dull winter since Baekhyun left the band.
“Do I have something on my face?” Baekhyun asks with a hint of mischief. Yeah, Chanyeol thinks. A stupid bright smile.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I was just, uh... thinking. What were you saying?”
Baekhyun stops smiling for a few seconds, just enough to scan Chanyeol's face with his eyes, but the latter knows that whatever Baekhyun will find written on his skin, he won't say a thing. He tries his best to burry what's left of their last memory together under layers of indifference though, because he doesn't feel like sharing it with this Baekhyun and his plain black hair. Instead of facing his searching eyes, Chanyeol's wander over the rest of the room. Baekhyun's living room is bright and spacious, miles away from EXO's living room, but Chanyeol still can read the hints left by Baekhyun everywhere. His ex-boyfriend has never been much of a cleaning type, and Chanyeol finds it entertaining to no end that that Chinese dude's obvious cleaning disorder isn't enough to hide the fact that Baekhyun lives here too.
There are several books opened on the coffee table between them, and crumbled sheets of paper on the floor, signs that Baekhyun was studying when Chanyeol knocked. From where he's sitting on the couch, Chanyeol can easily read hiragana and kanji, and he recognizes some of them but not enough to grasp what the book is about. It's another new thing about Baekhyun -well not that new but for Chanyeol, everything Baekhyun has done since he left will forever be new- but Baekhyun can now flawlessly speak three languages. Korean, Japanese and English. He's studying Mandarin now, Chanyeol recalls, but -giggles- Yixing said I wasn't really good at it.
The book shelf is the funniest to Chanyeol, because he can say without any mistake which shelves are Baekhyun's, not because of the books -god knows Baekhyun reads every book he can put a hand on- but because his are shelved neatly in alphabetical order when Yixing's are just ordered by themes. There are footprints on one of the armchair's armrests as if someone -Baekhyun- had put his feet there while lying on the couch, and traces of fingers on the windows, giving away the fact that Baekhyun still enjoys stargazing.
“Okay,” Baekhyun finally says, his eye smile gone. He obviously guessed what Chanyeol was thinking about, but both of them have stayed silent for two years, and it's not going to change now. Chanyeol catches a glimpse of a wrinkle on Baekhyun's forehead but before he can realize it remembers him those splinters in Baekhyun's eyes two years ago, it's gone.
“So,” Baekhyun continues, as if nothing happened. “Jongdae and Sehun. Do you know how many articles come out every day about them?”
“Probably a lot.”
Baekhyun nods vigorously. “A lot,” he emphasizes before chuckling. “Fortunately, you guys aren't kpop idols, because it would have meant the end of your careers. Being gay and kissing his boyfriend on stage turns out to work better for a rock band, who knew?”
The conversation is easier, and the smiles more genuine. It's easy to forget about the bittherness and the absence, and the two long years that went by when Jongdae is the main topic. Usually, Chanyeol comes to visit a little more often, but they're still on tour -he convinced himself that he flied back to Seoul to visit his parents and that meeting Baekhyun wasn't planned at all- so it's the first time he sees Baekhyun after Jongdae's attempt to call him. Chanyeol knows how Jongdae felt after the failed call, and it's obvious that Baekhyun wasn't spared by what happened as well. He plays nervously with his fingers, his eyes are constantly drawn to his phone on the coffee table -phone that he usually forgets on his nightstand every morning- and there's a feeling of longing and missing so heavy on the air around Baekhyun that Chanyeol wonders how he is still breathing. It's painful, it's painful to see Jongdae crying, and it's painful to see Baekhyun swallowing down his own tears, although not as painful as learning that they are messes Chanyeol can't do anything about.
Baekhyun nervously bites his lips before taking in a long breath.
“Jongdae is happy with Sehun, right? I mean, is-is Sehun nice to him?”
Chanyeol nods. He can't say anything, because Jongdae chose to hang up when he called Baekhyun, and it's enough for Chanyeol to know that Jongdae doesn't want Baekhyun back in his life. It also means that Baekhyun can't have Jongdae back in his, and Baekhyun knows it, judging by the layers of guilt weighing on his face. Chanyeol wishes he could tell Jongdae how eager Baekhyun is to learn more about him, to know more about what's going on in his life, he wishes he could drag him right here to make him feel how Baekhyun misses him, how he still deeply cares about him; but Chanyeol knows how selfish it would be. Things have changed -everything always does- and if they needed to spend at least three nights a week together when they were in high school, it's over now. Chanyeol has always been bad with changes, and his heart obviously refuses to update on the situation, because it's been pumping missing and imbalance through his whole body for two years now.
Easiness and smiles are long gone now, replaced by silence and discomfort, like it is more often than not when Jongdae is mentioned lately. It brings so many things back, like how Chanyeol isn't supposed to hug Baekhyun now, even when his eyes are glistening with tears, or how the never-ending list of questions about what happened two years ago never left Chanyeol's mouth, answers as easily trapped by Baekhyun's.
“Do you think he'll call me again?” Baekhyun asks in a whisper-like voice, so low, so weak, that Chanyeol almost misses it. His ears are still perfectly able to catch Baekhyun or Jongdae's silent pleas for help, and his body is physically unable to turn them down, so he nods. It's funny -or just painfully ironic- how so many things have changed when so many others have stayed the same, and Chanyeol watches helplessly as Baekhyun easily reads the hesitation in his eyes and the lie possibly lingering behind his nodding. Baekhyun flashes him a poor attempt of a comforting smile before wiping his palms on his pants.
“Thank you for giving him my number, though. I never asked you to do it, but you did, and... thank you.”
There's a lingering pause between them, and Chanyeol feels like they've never been so close to closing the gap between them since that day, two years ago, and for a moment, he considers asking everything he needs to ask. Why did you go? If it's that painful for you, why did you sacrifice us? What were you trying to tell me the night before? Was it because of me...? Was there something that I could have done to keep you from going away...? Why did you leave us? Why did you give up on me? Baekhyun's eyes meet his, and Chanyeol knows that Baekhyun is about to answer, and it feels like his hair are back at being blonde, they're back at joking about England and being deeply in love, and the dark chocolate of Baekhyun's eyes has never been cut by merciless splinters of ending. Eventually, the second flies by, and their hearts beat one time, two times, and it's all gone. Chanyeol chokes up on his questions, and Baekhyun burries his answers, and the gap is back, wide as if someone had been digging it for two years.
Baekhyun never gave the strong rock’n’roll vibe, like Zitao could, for exemple, with a leather jacket on, but he had been the best at bending the rules to turn them to his advantage, and Chanyeol -like everyone else-- has always thought Baekhyun looked stunning with his eyes darkened by smoky eyeliner. It's been two years since the last time he saw Baekhyun wearing make-up though, but Chanyeol doesn't mourn the lack of eyeliner like he does with the hair color: he has always liked bare-faced Baekhyun the most. And right now, a very bare-faced Baekhyun is staring at him through the webcam, his glistenning button nose only a few inches away from the laptop screen. Chanyeol can't help but smile as he makes out Baekhyun's body wrapped in the blankets despite the darkness of the latter's hotel room, the only light in his own being the faint glow coming from his laptop.
“I'm fucking tired,” Baekhyun grumbles, hiding a yawn with the palm of his hand. “I'll ask my boss tomorrow if I can stay a little longer here, like a day or two.”
Chanyeol nods. Baekhyun does look a little weary, his features accentuated by the lack of sleep, but they're skyping in the middle of the night, and it probably doesn't help.
“What time is it in Nagoya right now?” Chanyeol flashes Baekhyun an innocent grin when the latter throw him a jaded glance.
“I'm still an hour ahead of you, Yeol, it hasn't changed since the last time you asked.”
Chanyeol shrugs, as if to say 'you never know' and Baekhyun sighs, his own lips curved into a smile too hard to restrain.
Baekhyun travels a lot for work, that didn't change, except that it's not for mind-blowing concerts anymore, but for the well-balanced articles he writes. During the last two years, Chanyeol has witnessed the papers signed by Byun Baekhyun go from the fun facts page to the news in brief column to finally make the headlines more often than not. Chanyeol has read them all, digging out words and wording proper to Baekhyun, and spotting passion in every one of them, even in the one about that dog trained to bring lost items back to their owners at the airport. It does seem lackluster and boring to him, but since Baekhyun became a journalist, Chanyeol has to admit that he's never been more aware of what is going on in the world. Not to mention that since Baekhyun has been assigned to more serious topics --this way forcing him to travel several times a month-- they can skype more often without Chanyeol wondering where Yixing is. When the background behind Baekhyun's delicate face is just a plain hotel room, it almost feels like nothing has changed, like Baekhyun has just been asked by Junmyeon to attend some random scheduled events on his own.
“You know little Tao's gonna be an pain in the ass tomorrow.” Baekhyun is spread out on his back, his dischevelled hair now in the foreground, as he plays Angry Birds on his phone. “Alcohol doesn't sit well with him.”
Chanyeol sighs, because he knows that Baekhyun is right, and judging by what he saw when he left the club to head back to the hotel, he won't only have to deal with a hungover Zitao, but with the whole band sick with leftovers of alcohol vapors.
“I should drink too,” Chanyeol sighs again. “There's no way I can handle them if I'm sober.”
Baekhyun locks his phone and streches out while letting out a loud peal of laughter. The quality of the video is really high, Chanyeol notices almost despite himself, because he can make out Baekhyun's lashes fluttering against his round cheekbones, and a little further on, his feet are peeking out under the blankets. Baekhyun is about to add something when Chanyeol's door snaps open, and Chanyeol watches, horrified, as a stumbling Jongdae enters his room. From the corner of his vision, he sees Baekhyun rolling on his belly, his brows furrowed in confusion. Chanyeol thanks the Lord that Jongdae can't see his laptop's screen and prays frantically that Baekhyun stays quiet.
“Sehun's an asshole,” Jongdae blurts out, his nose scrunched up with disdain.
Chanyeol sees Baekhyun's eyes snap wide open before he presses his hands against his mouth to muffle his breathing. Chanyeol's heart is beating erratically in his chest, not out of fear of getting caught but out of hope that Jongdae will come closer to take a look at his laptop. It's the first time since too many months that his two best friends, the two people he loves the most, are in the same room, and the fact that Baekhyun is actually in Japan while they're still in China doesn't even cross his mind. He feels dizzy, overwhelmed by all the possibilities and by all that could happen if he decided to turn his laptop. His fingers itch with need and want, and he probably would have done it, probably, if his eyes didn't catch the perfect mix of happiness and sadness on Baekhyun's face. It's the first time in two years that he gets to hear Jongdae talk, and Jongdae is obviously drunk, still pouting in front of Chanyeol's bed, but it's been two fucking long years, and it could end in less than a second. Chanyeol thinks about Baekhyun's repetitive glances to his phone, and he gives up. He's going to offer him this whole conversation.
“Not new.” Chanyeol grins, trying to forget Baekhyun's eyes weighing on him.
Jongdae ignores him and stamps his feet, his nose still crunched up.
“He promised we would spend the night together, like only the two of us, but then he saw Jongin, Tao and those guys from the opening band, and he said we should tag along.” Jongdae's eyes narrow to slits. “Chanyeol, you know how bad I am at tagging along. I don't tag along.”
Chanyeol furiously nods when he realises that Jongdae expects a reaction from him. He thinks he hears Baekhyun chuckling.
“He kept on laughing and joking,” Jongdae stresses with a look of pure disdain as if it was the biggest afront he's ever witnessed. “And then he cheered for Jongin in that stupid drinking game -because Jongin wants to impress that tiny singer you know?- and he bought even more shooters, and Tao is going to be so fucking annoying tomorrow. And when I said that we should go, he said,” Jongdae raises his index finger for dramatic effects and mimics with a high-pitched voice. “'But we're having so much fun, hyung.”
Chanyeol has to bite his lips to keep his laugh in the back of his throat where it tingles and tickles. Jongdae look so pissed off, and he probably thinks he's being scary as he glares at Chanyeol when, in reality, he just looks even tinier than usual with his hair dischevelled and his eyes hooded by alcohol.
“How dare he,” Chanyeol finally mocks, but Jongdae is way too drunk to grasp the irony, and he gasps with offense.
“Exactly,” he exclaims. “Exactly!”
This time, Chanyeol has to pretend to bite his nails, because he's now sure that Baekhyun is laughing, buried deep under his blankets, and Baekhyun's laugh has always been the most contagious. Chanyeol's stomach fills up with bubbly tingles. It's the closest they have been to normal since such a long time, and he's reminded of sleepless nights and uncontrollable fits of laughter, the memories so vivid he doesn't notice that Jongdae is back at whining.
“You're drunk,” Chanyeol cuts and Jongdae stops his tirade to look at him, dumbfounded.
“Oh, come on, I'm not that drunk,” he protests before stopping to considerate. “Okay, maybe I am, but Sehun's drunk too!” Jongdae retorts.
“And?” Chanyeol asks, trying -failing- to hide his amusement. Jongdae can be really annoying when he's drunk, more annoying than usual, the back-to-five-of-age-mental kind of annoying, but he's also entertaining to no end with his pink cheekbones and abusive use of pouts.
“Well, we're both drunk, so I don't know, we cancel one another out, don't we?”
Chanyeol stares. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Baekhyun putting another pillow on the lump of blankets he has become to muffle his chuckles, making Chanyeol's own laughter even harder to swallow down, especially considering the way Jongdae is now looking at him.
“What?” Jongdae asks, frowning.
“If anything, it's more like... multiplying, Jongdae,” Chanyeol explains calmly, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch.
Jongdae considers him silently for a whole minute before shrugging it off. “Yeah, whatever. Sehun's still an ass and he lost the right to sleep with me tonight. So I'm gonna sleep...” His eyes scan the room and he points his index finger at the fancy couch behind him. “Here.”
Before Chanyeol can say anything, Jongdae curls up under one of Chanyeol's hoodie and nuzzles the armchair of the couch with a content smile curling the corners of his lips. He muffles a yawn with the hood and finally closes his eyes, his breathing already slowing down. Chanyeol watches him, love and affection filling up his chest until it becomes painful, a hint of possessiveness, unexpected but not surprising, tiggling as it rushes in his veins. They had to rebuild everything when Baekhyun left, find new rituals and habits while ignoring how they missed the old ones. There wasn't any let's-sleep-on-the-bed-together-and-the-first-who-falls-cooks-breakfast nights anymore, no more pranks on Junmyeon, it was all gone, but Jongdae and Chanyeol managed eventually. They sewed it all up with layers of new routines and strengthened the stitches that were already binding them, and sleeping in each other's room from time to time is just one of those new habits. Chanyeol knows that if Baekhyun were to complain, he'd rather turn his computer off than throw Jongdae out, no matter how painful the possibility already rings through his mind. When he glances down at Baekhyun with def,iance as if to dare him to say anything though, he meets sad eyes staring straight back at him. Baekhyun is aware of it, he's aware of the fact that he's in Japan while Chanyeol and Jongdae are both in China, and he's aware that when he said that he didn't want to be part of the band anymore, he also cut himself out of the person the three of them had become.
Chanyeol contemplates asking Baekhyun why he still did it despite all of it. It happens more often than not, but he's spent two years keeping his questions buried deep inside him, and he's afraid the words will never come back to him anymore. He's not even sure there is a reason, and even if it is, he knows he can't face it. Whatever Baekhyun's reasons were, Chanyeol will probably never accept them because, in the end, they were more important than both him and Jongdae, but it's been two long years, and it could all come to a conclusion tonight.
“Baek..” Chanyeol licks his lips, Baekhyun's glistening eyes knocking the air out of him.
Baekhyun takes a deep breath and blinks before wiping his cheeks.
“Can I see him, Yeol?” he begs, ignoring on purpose the question hung up on the tip of Chanyeol's tongue. He looks up at him and once again, Chanyeol admires the quality of the video as he sees Baekhyun's knuckles whitening on his pillow. “Please?”
Chanyeol vacillates, possessiveness and desire to protect Jongdae washing over him, as well as cold revenge, as must as he dislikes it. Baekhyun left, he left them both behind, and Chanyeol could simply shake his head and end it just like that. Too bad for you, Baek. On the other hand, Chanyeol is still desperately in love with Baekhyun, with the way his button nose glistens in the faint light coming from his laptop or how pink his lips look even without make up, and his heart can't bear watching him cry. He oscillates and wavers and loses when Baekhyun's eyes flutter closed. Slowly, Chanyeol turns the laptop.
Baekhyun sniffs as he wipes his tears away, a smile waking up the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.
“He looks awful,” he says jokingly, and Chanyeol's heart deflates with the quaver in Baekhyun's voice. “Poor Sehun, being in love with all that ugliness must not be easy every day.”
Chanyeol smiles as he watches Jongdae fast asleep. “Yeah, well, Sehun is uglier.”
Baekhyun chuckles and when Chanyeol brings back the laptop on his pillow, he sees him nodding. They stare at each other for a while, and Chanyeol easily reads silent thank yous all over Baekhyun's face. He sighs and slips under the covers.
“Good night, Baek.”
Baekhyun flashes him a pale smile as he brings his own covers up to his chin. None of them turn their laptop off, and if Chanyeol falls asleep, he doesn't notice it right away, mind already filled with wishful thinkings and happy endings. It's only when he feels Baekhyun's fingers run through his hair in a soothing manner that he realises that something is off, but it's the glimpse of ash blonde hair he catches that takes him farther away in his dream.
He wakes up a couple of hours later to pink and orange shyly coloring the sky and Jongdae and Sehun muttering on the doorstep. It's way too early, and Chanyeol falls back asleep in seconds to his laptop's faint glow and Baekhyun fast asleep with his fingers on his forehead as Jongdae quietly shuts the door behind him and Sehun.
China was their last stop, and six months after its beginning, their tour finally reaches its end. It feels weird to be back in the apartment in Seoul's downtown, and the exhaustion they're all wearing makes the adjustement even harder to cope with. Zitao and Jongin stayed in China for a few more days, visiting Tao's family like the three youngers usually do, except that Sehun came home with Jongdae this time. Chanyeol misses them, just like he misses Junmyeon's daily presence, but they've all been there before and they know that if the end of a gig is hard to bear, the end of a tour is even worse. Chanyeol doesn't understand rockstars who let poisonous substances take over their veins one by one when he feels like he goes on rehab every time they come home after a tour. The withdrawal is heavy and noxious, and it leaves his body into pieces. Fragile and tired don't even come close to describing how they feel as the world outside keeps on turning, and they have to relearn the most simple routines, such as eating breakfast and going grocery shopping even though their bones feel like they've been reduced to ashes.
The sudden need to see Baekhyun takes Chanyeol by surprise as he makes his way back to his room with a bag of chips. He's tired and cold, and his limbs feel heavier than ever, but he's suddenly not sure that his bed can help him. The whole appartement is silent, so silent that it feels like all those empty spaces have turned into lurking monsters, and Chanyeol can feel them waiting for him to lay down to claw at his heart. He's usually not afraid of the silence and the introspection it brings, but he's spent the last six months surrounded by people and noise, and he forgot how he's supposed to feel in all that silence. He needs to get out of here.
He wastes no time in taking a shower, only grabbing hastily some pants and a black shirt with EXO's logo blooming in the front --it's called self-promoting-- before he pratically runs to the living room. Jongdae and Sehun are right where he left them after his raid to the kitchen to steal the last bag of chips --spread out on the couch with Sehun's long legs hanging off the edge and his arms wrapped around Jongdae to make sure the latter doesn't fall-- and they both watch him put on his hoodie, confused.
“I'm just going out an hour or two,” Chanyeol says, beating questions he knows would force him to lie. “I'll grab dinner on my way back,” he ads with a flash of inspiration as he puts on his shoes. Who asks questions when food is involved? Certainly not Sehun and Jongdae, so Chanyeol rushes out the door without a look to his friends, this way failing to notice Jongdae's eyes heavy on him.
It's only when Chanyeol knocks for the fourth time on the door that he realises that it's not even four in the afternoon and that Baekhyun is probably still working. He keeps knocking though, because he can't go back now, and if he has to, maybe he'll just sit down and wait for Baekhyun to come home. What if Yixing comes home first? Chanyeol freezes, his knuckles a few inches away from the door, and he bites his under lip. His mind is forcing the reality on him, like it's kept doing it for the past two years, rationalizing that Baekhyun isn't his anymore, but Yixing's, and that he's not Baekhyun's priority anymore; but Chanyeol shuts the voice in his head and resumes knocking with a resolute frown on his face.
“Calm down! I'm coming!” There's some ruffling on the other side of the door as Baekhyun's grumpy voice gets closer. “Seriously, what the fuck...”
The door opens and Chanyeol looks down to a frowning Baekhyun still in his pajamas. The latter's face immediately brightens as he takes in his visitor.
“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun's smile is blinding, burning Chanyeol's irises and setting fire to his optical nerves. The fire in his head roasts his brain with flashes of shirt too large to hide pale collarbones, bed hair and swollen face.
“You're not working?” Chanyeol stammers, confused.
“Do I look like I'm working?” Baekhyun chuckles before steping on the side for Chanyeol to come in. He doesn't. “There was this party at work yesterday, and I guess it was fun because I can't remember a damn thing. I'm so fucking tired seriously, I feel old.” He stops and frowns as he tilts his head. Chanyeol's heart flutters. “Yeol? Is there something wrong?”
Chanyeol shakes his head, but his eyes stay glued to Baekhyun. He feels overwhelmed by the amount of details his eyes send to his brain, like how Baekhyun's pants fall on his feet because they're too long, or the dried toothpaste on the corner of his mouth and the dirty bangs sticking out above his forehead. It's not the first time his sees this kind of Baekhyun, and Chanyeol could almost laugh at the irony if he wasn't too busy trying to remember that Baekhyun didn't just get home after a six-month-long tour too. His brain has been fucking wrong all this time, he realizes, because Baekhyun didn't change a bit, he's exactly like he used to be, only Chanyeol can't have him anymore.
Except that he still wants to.
Something snaps in Chanyeol, and it only takes him two steps to shut his conscience off. He cups Baekhyun's face with his hands and craches their lips. Baekhyun's heart beats four times before he closes the door, it takes Chanyeol half of a second to realizes that Baekhyun is kissing him back. Desperation is washing over them, and they stumble to the couch -one, two, three, four, five steps- before exploding into a hot mess of want and barely contained gasps. Baekhyun looks so small under him, half of the Baekhyun he usually is, but it's okay because Chanyeol happens to be missing half of himself too. They kiss, one time, two times, three, Baekhyun's moan blooms on Chanyeol's tongue, four, five, Baekhyun tosses his hoodie away, six, seven, he wraps his legs around Chanyeol's waist, locking his ankles on the small of his back, eight, nine, and Chanyeol stops counting when Baekhyun buries his hands -ten fingers warm and demanding- deep under his shirt.
Baekhyun's curves feel the exact same way under Chanyeol's fingertips, there's no space enough left between them for the gap to remain and they're back at what they were two years ago. When Chanyeol 's hand brushes Baekhyun's pants' waistband, the latter still lets out the same needy moan he always used to, and it still sets Chanyeol on fire. There's no time to remember how he missed it, all of it, and to whisper broken I love yous in the crook of Baekhyun's neck. Even the sparkles of electricity that curl around his spine last too long, they're only predicting thunderstorms and electric crackling on the surface of Chanyeol's skin when lightnings are already breaking him apart. They burn in the most beautiful electrical storm ever seen.
Baekhyun arches his back, pressing himself against Chanyeol's chest as his fingers dig a little deeper in Chanyeol's shoulderblades. Their shirts are long gone and Baekhyun's pants hang loosely around his hips, pale skin and sharp bones burning Chanyeol's irises as his fingers wrap themselves around Baekhyun's cock. Baekhyun's hands quake against the skin of his back and his voice breaks as he moans. He's warm and needy, seizing every space around Chanyeol's body, but it's always been like that: Baekhyun undulates like waves, and crashes against the shore that Chanyeol is.
Impatient hands unbuckle Chanyeol's belt and put his pants down before digging into his flesh when Chanyeol tightens his hold on Baekhyun's cock. Baekhyun's pleading moan scratches the silence around them, but they're both already indifferent to the reality to mind the background noises and the hundred of reasons they shouldn't be doing it. Baekhyun grabs him by the neck and pulls him down to crash their lips together. He doesn't wait to curl his tongue in between Chanyeol's teeth and lick every millimeter of his mouth, gasping and moaning against his tongue at each stroke of Chanyeol's hand.
Chanyeol's breath hitches in the back of his throat when Baekhyun presses his crotch against Chanyeol's cock at every motion of Chanyeol's wrist, and the kiss turns into Baekhyun's tongue licking at the corner of his mouth when his moans get a pitch higher, the lack of oxygen making his breathing harder. Chanyeol recognizes the faint shudder all over Baekhyun's body, and the way he tightens his legs around his waist, and for a moment he considers making Baekhyun come just like this, with his hand deep in his pants and his fingers following the veins on his cock, but they've been apart for so long, and Chanyeol really wants to feel him. He pulls his hand away and straigthens up, Baekhyun's whine at the loss of his fingers tightening a little more the muscles in his belly. He grabs Baekhyun's pants and drags them down along with his underwear, and watches Baekhyun twitch with barely registered uncomfort when the fabric slides against over sensitive skin. The sight of red patches of skin blooming on Baekhyun's thighs as well as his leaking cock heavy on his stomach makes Chanyeol groan with need. He forgets Baekhyun's pants in the middle of his thighs, his own just above his knees, and leans down to bury his face in the crook of Baekhyun's neck as his hips look for the friction he's so desperate for.
Baekhyun immediately arches into the touch, mouth open in a silent moan and both hands pressed against Chanyeol's ass. Their pants half removed make the motion a little harder, but it doesn't stop them from rutting against each other. The sliding is easy with how sweaty they both are, and it creates thousands of fireplaces over their skins. Baekhyun's moans turn into shrill cries as Chanyeol runs his tongue along his carotid, feeding on the hectic beating of his heart. Baekhyun's fingers press red crescent moons on his back as he struggles to break one of his legs free from his pants. The way he wriggles under him catches Chanyeol by surprise, and he holds Baekhyun firmly, suddenly afraid the shorter male will run away. Baekhyun doesn't though, he only wraps his now totally naked leg aroung Chanyeol's waist and looks up at him with dark dark dark eyes and pink lips, flushed cheeks and sweaty bangs. Chanyeol gasps when he feels long fingers wrap around both of their cocks, and it's the last thing he registers. Everything else is lost in their moans, lost in the desperate thrusts and messy grinding. They've become a mess of tangled limbs with blurry frontiers between their tongues and lips, and despite the adrenaline rushing into their veins, their heartbeats get drowned in their skins slapping together.
Baekhyun licks his jawline as he tightens his hold on their cocks and Chanyeol feels himself slipping away. His whole body shudders as the world implodes right before his eyes, white and burning, and it chars his skin in the most delicious way. He cries with discomfort when Baekhyun's fingers linger on the head of his cock, but doesn't let the oversensitive skin draw him away from Baekhyun. He takes in the mouth open in a silent scream and the way Baekhyun wrinkles only one side of his nose when he stops using Chanyeol's body to chase after his complexion because it hits him in a silent pang that blossoms all over his body. Baekhyun grabs him by the neck and pulls him down, and the world implodes a second time as Chanyeol picks Baekhyun's jerky cries directly in his mouth.
Chanyeol would have thought he'd be lost in the feeling of Baekhyun's body all over him forever, and it's a fate he's more than happy to accept, but it turns out that measuring the time passing by with the shaky breaths coming out from Baekhyun's swollen lips doesn't slow it down, and soon enough Baekhyun's beating heart doesn't beat erratically enough to eclipse the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall above the TV screen anymore. Reality rushes in and Chanyeol is remembered things he would have liked better forgotten. Like how cuddly Baekhyun is after love, how good it feels to have him wrapped around his body, bathing in the leftover sensations Chanyeol hid all over his body, or more importantly, the fact that Baekhyun is with Yixing, and that Chanyeol is now back where he was two years ago when Baekhyun left: memories vivid all over his skin but empty space in the bed they once shared.
His mind screams red alert and his blood freezes in his veins with the need to flee out of this apartment right away. He disentangles himself from Baekhyun's grip, the latter's hold leaving red scratches on his skin when Chanyeol pushes him away.
"Chanyeol, wait--" Baekhyun begs.
"I have to go," Chanyeol interrupts him before pulling his pants back up. He meets Baekhyun's pleading eyes and freezes. His ex-boyfriend is still half-naked, spread out on the couch all for Chanyeol to see, his neck turned into a beautiful canvas in which red and purple are blooming like supernovas, celebrating the memories of Chanyeol's teeth and lips.
"Chanyeol?" Baekhyun tries again, hesitant, but soft, oh so soft.
Chanyeol hears the mutted 'we need to talk' he's been desperate to hear for two long-ass years, but his mind blanks out and he grabs his shirt before rushing to the door.
He's just so fucking scared of what might come after it.
When Chanyeol comes back home, Sehun and Jongdae aren't on the couch anymore. It's silent in the appartement, but the faint hope Chanyeol was nursing about being alone for a while dies out when Sehun's head pops out through the kitchen door.
“Hey, where's the food?” Sehun questions with a frown as he comes out of the kitchen, his wet hands in a towel. Chanyeol should be amazed because Sehun is doing the dishes for the first time since he moved into their appartement, but he's too busy feeling whatever he's feeling right now. He doesn't answer and walks straight to his room, afraid that opening his mouth will give his tongue the power to create words and sentences he's not quite ready to hear.
I slept with Baekhyun.
“Hyung, you promised food!” Sehun shouts from behind his back, but Chanyeol opens the door of his room without a look for the younger boy.
It turns out that his room isn't the shelter he wanted it to be in the end, and Chanyeol suddenly feels like all those sentences he tried so hard to gulp down are now written in big neon letters above his head when his eyes meet Jongdae's from across the room. His bestfriend is sitting on his bed, his expression closed but not closed enough for Chanyeol to not be able to read it. Chanyeol has seen Jongdae at his worst, when exhaustion and despair were so heavy that he just couldn't get up, and Jongdae is now staring straight into Chanyeol's worst.
Chanyeol's throat tightens when he realizes that Jongdae is holding the frame normally on his bedside table. He was probably looking at it when Chanyeol rushed into the room, even if Chanyeol knows that Jongdae has exactly the same picture in his wallet. He supposes it holds a greater meaning in the daylight, because Jongdae's copy never leaves the darkness.
“He's gonna break your heart,” Jongdae finally says, dully, before putting the frame back on the nightstand.
He stands up and walks towards Chanyeol, the latter waiting for the blow, the screams and the anger, but Jongdae's eyes remain soft and warm on him. He thinks he feels their fingers brush, but it's over in less than a second. The door closes quietly behind his back, and Jongdae singsongs on the other side, as if nothing happened.
“Grab your phone, Sehun! Chanyeol is treating us to pizza tonight!”
Because Chanyeol has seen Jongdae's worst, and because Jongdae has tried to brighten Chanyeol's worst, Chanyeol easily understands what lingers in Jongdae's cheerful voice now ringing in the living room. There's a reason why Jongdae's copy of the picture remains in the darkness of his wallet, and just like Chanyeol, there are messes he can't do anything about, but if in the end Chanyeol's worst turns out to be darker than expected, Jongdae will be there.
Chanyeol is left starring at the frame on his nightstand and, as he remembers the day the three of them took that picture, there are only two things left in his brain.
First, he's actually pretty sure his fingers and Jongdae's brushed.
Second, he needs to know when he'll get to see Baekhyun again.
Time passes by in a blurr. Jongin and Zitao come back from China, arms full of presents none of them really needs, like that fake cat hiding in a bag of chips Jongin proudly hands to Jongdae, but Chanyeol and Jongdae still humor them while Sehun cackers in the corner of the living room. It's easier to realize they're back in the real world now that they're all together again, and routine kicks in soon enough for them to act a little less off and a little more like they're alive. The appartement gets noisy, Friday nights are dedicated to Chinese dramas that Zitao translates with high-pitched voices and enthusiastic hand gestures, Junmyeon is invited for dinner every two days, and sometimes Sehun wakes up in the middle of the night to find Jongdae's side of the bed empty. Those days, Zitao -up at dawn for his jogging session- wakes up to Jongdae and Sehun fast asleep in the living room, Sehun's slender limbs awkwardly dangling off the two armrests of the couch and his face pressed into a cushion while beautiful pieces of song lyrics hastily scribbled at two a.m serve as a pillow for Jongdae. The windows are always opened and the wind plays with the long curtains, turning the transparent white fabric into peaceful waves of liquid light everytime the residents catch the curtains at the edge of their vision. The recording studio gets mentionned for the first time a couple of weeks later, even if the word has been hidden in the delicate rays of sunshine going through the windows and warming up their bodies for the past few days already. The air tastes like revival, and the brightest colors -like Jongin's neon yellow sweater- shine softly to their eyes, like pastel colors.
But Chanyeol doesn't feel the oxygen filling up his lungs like the others do. He feels like he's locked up in another dimension, some kind of parallel world where time isn't measured by clock ticking and sunsets, but by moans and delicate fingers buried in his hair. It's like watching his bandmates through a full-length mirror, and some nights he dreams the mirror never breaks and he never gets the chance to be the Chanyeol on the other side anymore.
It could be different, Chanyeol could be the happiest of all, even happier than Sehun watching Jongdae when he thinks nobody is looking, because he visits Baekhyun almost everyday now. There's talking and laughing, but also silence. Silences long and heavy, silences that seem to emphasize every little detail, like Baekhyun's pillows that aren't matching -one is bright white and the other cream ivory and Chanyeol doesn't wonder which one is Yixing's- or the frame on Baekhyun's nightstand with one of those weird pictures of smiling couples there always is inside of new frames. There also are explosions and supernovas, when their skins touch, when Baekhyun kisses him, mouth hot and demanding, when he takes him by the hand and drags him to the bedroom. While Jongdae writes lyrics, Chanyeol reads Baekhyun's body, and Baekhyun prints traces of his presence all over Chanyeol's.
There's a tiny crack, like a reminder of everything that's wrong everytime the burning needles disappear from Chanyeol's spine, and he knows it's what has built the mirror and the reason why the white curtains look like ghosts to him. Baekhyun's pleading eyes always follow him when he grabs his clothes and leave the room, but he never says anything. Somewhere along the way, Chanyeol has convinced himself that it's because Baekhyun's words aren't made of happiness and promises, but of apologies and goodbyes, so he always makes sure to be out of the apartment before his lover opens his mouth. Maybe Jongdae's right after all, maybe some things are better left in the dark.
When Chanyeol comes home, Jongdae is always there, hazelnut eyes heavy on him, but when he hands him his guitar for an improvised jam session, Jongdae's hand now always lingers, and their fingers brush every single time.
It's hot, terribly hot. There's a weird voice in the back of Chanyeol's mind that tells him he could have come up with better adjectives, because the way Baekhyun's body is spread out under his is hot, for sure, but it's also more than that, so much more. Baekhyun has always been everything to him, even the words Chanyeol has never known, and he regrets not having Jongdae's talent with words, because Baekhyun deserves every single immortalization there is, from the burning silhouette he leaves behind Chanyeol's close eyelids to the most beautiful song ever written.
There's love pourring from Baekhyun's eyes, mixed with lust and a bit of provocation when he takes one of Chanyeol's hands to his mouth and licks his index finger, pupils blown into dark holes. Chanyeol gasps, and the wetness of Baekhyun's tongue around his finger makes his blood boil, the hotness going straight to his arousal. Baekhyun is playing with him, a faint smirk revealing perfect white teeth, as his tongue mimics the licking it did a couple of days earlier on a totally different part of Chanyeol's body. Chanyeol likes Baekhyun cocky and cheeky, but he likes him even more too lost to remember how to control himself, he likes him blown out into burning white pieces, pleasure too strong for him to say anything else than pleading moans and broken Chanyeols, and Chanyeol knows how to take Baekhyun that far.
He pulls his finger away from Baekhyun's glistening lips, and presses his hand on his jawline to force him to turn his head. Chanyeol's eyes dig holes in the pale skin where Baekhyun's neck meets his collarbones as his other hand palms Baekhyun's erection through the thin fabric of his underwear. He waits until Baekhyun vibrates from pleasure to lean down. His lips graze the delicate skin and Baekhyun whines in the back of his throat. It's amazing how they're both made of blood and water, soft skin hiding hundred of neurons judiciously situated, but everything seems so much more magic when it comes to Baekhyun. Chanyeol's tongue softly follows a pattern only him can see on Baekhyun's collarbone, and he imagines it to be the long run of one of Baekhyun's veins. He feels Baekhyun's heart pumping erratically in his chest when he closes his teeth on one of his nipples, and almost sees the air rushing out of Baekhyun's lungs to turn into a hoarse moan somewhere in the depth of Baekhyun's throat. Baekhyun is a miracle, born from luck or fate -or even both- and everything about him is perfect. Chanyeol can only worship him, especially when he thinks about the billions of possibilities that came with Baekhyun's parents' DNA and how he could have missed everything that makes Baekhyun his Baekhyun.
Baekhyun throws his head back on the couch when Chanyeol's lips kiss the softness of his belly as he presses his erection against Chanyeol's hand, looking for some kind of deliverance.
“Chanyeol, please..” he begs, and Chanyeol nibbles his hipbone as an answer.
It's hot, terribly hot, and Chanyeol thinks it must be why none of them heard the door of the apartment. They both hear the throat clearing though, and it takes Chanyeol less than two seconds to realize it's useless to try and find a way to explain their compromising position when his tongue was running along Baekhyun's waistband a heartbeat before. Baekhyun gasps as he sits up, a new shade of red blossoming on his cheeks as his fingers dig deeper into the skin of Chanyeol's shoulderblades.
There's a man starring at them behind the couch, and the first thing Chanyeol registers is the amused smile. He's short, but not as short as Baekhyun, and he's neatly dressed, with his shirt tucked into his dark trousers. His hair is just as nicely combed, falling just under his eyebrows and leaving enough space for two dark warm eyes. He flashes them an apologetic smile before rubbing the back of his neck.
“Uhm... Awkward.” he chuckles with a heavy Chinese accent. Chanyeol's heart drops in his chest and he barely registers Baekhyun's hand soothing circles on his back. “I'm just--” The intruder points at a door a couple of feet away and makes a vague gesture, before letting out a sigh. “I'm sorry,” he finally says. “Don't mind me. Just get back-- get back to what you were doing.”
He smiles another time, two deep dimples digging the soft-looking skin of his cheeks, and walks towards the door. Chanyeol's brows furrows a little more when he notices a bed before the Chinese guy closes the door behind him. He realizes he's never seen that room, but it doesn't make sense. Baekhyun's room is on the other side, why would they need another bed? Unless Baekhyun lives with another Chinese man, this was Yixing, and Chanyeol has no place for doubt, because the neat apparence of the man makes it clear that he's the one cleaning the whole apartment. He turns his head toward Baekhyun who is now fanning himself with his free hand, the other still drawing soothing circles on his back. Chanyeol pulls aways and Baekhyun turns big worried eyes at him.
“I'm-- I'm sorry Chanyeol, Yixing wasn't supposed to come home before a couple of hours.” He chuckles nervously. “This wasn't how I wanted you two to meet, but I guess I don't have to cook a royal dinner anymore now.”
Chanyeol's confusion grows bigger at Baekhyun's words, and he desantangles himself from Baekhyun's legs.
“What the hell?” He takes another look at the door before turning his back towards Baekhyun. “It was Yixing?”
Baekhyun nods, a little unsure. None of this makes sense, and before he can stop himself, Chanyeol puts words in a question and blurts it out, this time his need for answer too strong for him to stay silent.
“Did your boyfriend just tell you to sleep with me?”
Baekhyun's eyes open wide and to Chanyeol's surprise, he lets out a small chuckle before furiously shaking his head.
“Yixing's not my boyfriend, Chanyeol. He's just my roommate. He's always been just my roommate.” He considers. “And a friend.”
Chanyeol stares, mouth agape, and for a second, Baekhyun disappears from his vision, replaced by all the memories of Baekhyun telling him about Yixing. Yixing is Chinese, Yixing is a teacher, Yixing cooks well, but not matter how hard Chanyeol thinks, he can't find any Yixing's my roommate. They're both half-naked on the couch, his skin just a few inches from Baekhyun's, but Chanyeol has never been more aware of the gap the two years apart dig between them. He grabs his shirt on the back of the couch and puts it on. Baekhyun frowns.
“Chanyeol?”
“Why the fuck didn't you tell me?!” Chanyeol snaps as he raises to his feet. “The sight must've been fucking hilarious, right? Miserable Chanyeol still desperately in love with the Great Byun fucking Baekhyun!”
“Wha--”
“Fuck you, Baekhyun. Fuck you, and your games and whatever the hell you're doing, just...” Chanyeol stops, the air so heavy in his lungs that breathing feels like he's being punched incessantly, and torn apart from this inside. “I can't believe you did this to me.”
“I... I didn't know you'd think Yixing and I were dating..” Baekhyun falters, lost and confused.
“Right, because you were so explicit about it?” Chanyeol finishes sarcastically.
Baekhyun shakes his head, looking so small and fragile on that big couch that Chanyeol's heart can't help but falter. He still sees the path he drew with the tip of his longue across white expanse of skin, and it's driving him crazy. Red anger is flashing at the edges of his vision, but it's the fact that it's not aiming at Baekhyun that drives him crazy. It's been two years and every morning, he still wakes up with guilt wrapped around his body, he's never asked a single question, too coward and afraid, and the truth is that he's struggling to not lean down and kiss Baekhyun's sad pout away. He should have known better, learned his lesson better.
“No,” Baekhyun finally mumbles, looking right at him. “Because it doesn't make any sense. Why would I sleep with someone else?”
Chanyeol doesn't see the feral smile he flashes, but he feels it weighing on his lips. He's remembered of something he said to Jongdae several week before, something about dancing on the edge, and he feels like he's the one hoping on a thin string right now, but he's not gonna fall to Baekhyun. Not again.
“And why wouldn't it make sense? You left, Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun shakes his head another time, his eyes glistening with tears. “I never said I was leaving you.”
It's so absurd, it's so far from holding a meaning that Chanyeol can't help but chuckling. The sound feels empty and bitter, and he's sure he tastes blood on the tip of his tongue.
“What the fuck?” he snorts. “I'll never come back is what you said, Baekhyun. I think that says enough, don't you?”
Baekhyun watches him, and to Chanyeol's distress, the first of numerous tears slips out of his eyes. Red patches of skin are already blossoming on his face, like it does everytime he cries, and there's a faint shiver running along the curves of his body. Baekhyun presses a cushion to his chest and lowers his head. Chanyeol would have liked screaming and anger better, he would even have enjoyed insults and threats, but maybe Baekhyun is getting ready. Maybe he'll reach out for him and grab him by the wrist to keep him from leaving.
Chanyeol takes a step back. The windows are opened here too, but the curtains are of a beautiful shade of pale blue, and with the light showering through them, there's a faint glint lingering on the fabric, just like the one that dazzles you when a mirror reflects the sun.
Baekhyun never stops him.
part 2 >>
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Chanyeol/Baekhyun, side!Sehun/Jongdae
Wordcount: 19,7k
Warning: unbetaed, language, sex scenes, failed attempts at a lot of things
Disclaimer: EXO belongs to themselves and SME
Notes: Sequel to Apetite for destruction, I suggest you to go and read it otherwise I'm not sure this would make anysense.
Title taken from Paramore's Interlude, it's a short cute song, I suggest you to listen to it, because it's Chanyeol in a nutshell.
Summary: Chanyeol is dumb, Baekhyun is dumb too, so they make a pretty dumb couple. The rest is useless drama.
“Do you think we'll get to play in Milton Keynes one day?”
Baekhyun glances at him from where he's spread out on Chanyeol's bed, legs dangling off the edge, his long fingers keeping the book he's reading from shutting close. Chanyeol sees the haziness in his boyfriend's eyes slowly fading away as Baekhyun finally registers, a second too late, the words Chanyeol just said. The latter simply waits, more than used by now to the multiple layers of worlds and adventures Baekhyun buries himself under when he reads. He lets the seconds tick by as he asbentmindedly strums his guitar, patiently waiting for Baekhyun to come back to him.
“Hum?” Baekhyun's mumble comes a few seconds too late to fill the silence, but Chanyeol still humors him -like he always does- and opens his mouth to repeat his words. He's stopped in his tracks when Baekhyun beams at him.“Milton Keynes? Isn't that the place where Green Day play in that DVD you like so much?”
Chanyeol nods as he puts his guitar pick between the neck and the chords. He lets his fingers slide down the back of his guitar's neck, pride engulfing him when the tiny little marks his fingertips ghost over remind him of everything they achieved since he bought this guitar.
“So? Do you think we'll be as famous in England as we are here one day?”
Baekhyun seems to think for a moment, his eyebrows scrunched together under his messy ash blonde locks -he dyed his hair a couple of months ago after getting bored of the purple he was sporting back then, but Chanyeol isn't going to complain, ash blonde is nice, ash blonde is cute- before finally shrugging.
“I don't know. Is it that important? I mean, what's so great about England, after all?”
Chanyeol gasps and pretends to be deeply outraged as he clenches his hand on his heart. Baekhyun giggles and puts a picture of the Infernal Trio -meaning Jongdae, Chanyeol and Baekhyun himself- taken in Baekhyun's basement as a bookmark in his book before shutting it close.
“England is like the fucking graal, Baekhyun. I'm pretty sure there's a special place in Heaven for all the rock bands who broke the English charts.” Chanyeol puts away his guitar before joining Baekhyun on his-their bed. They could totally afford a larger bed now, even an imitation of the Emperor of Japan's bed with silk sheets and everything if they wanted, but none of them has brought it up. Everything is changing so fast around them that Chanyeol gets dizzy sometimes, and it's nice to be able to come home without the furniture screaming rock’n’roll stars and millions of albums sold at them. He guesses that's why the five of them still live together, and also why Zitao still has to throw a cushion at their old TV to turn it on -because only Zitao can hit the right spot and they're all lazy bitches-- but Chanyeol likes their bed for different reasons. Baekyun sleeps in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, totally unaware of the fact that he's not the only one in bed, but Chanyeol doesn't mind, even when he can't fit his legs on the mattress. The bed is so small that all the space Baekhyun takes for his own sleeping comfort turns out to be Chanyeol's personal space, and waking up with one of Baekhyun's legs thrown over his thighs and his boyfriend curled up against his side definitely makes it up for all the nasty colds he catches when Baekhyun takes the blanket hostage.
“I don't know about you, but I'm willing to do anything if it means I can party with Freddy Mercury up there,” Chanyeol cackles.
“Are you?”
Chanyeol blinks a few times, taken aback by the splinters of seriousness cutting the usually warm chocolate of Baekhyun's eyes. It's too late for Baekhyun to look this serious, and it's so out of context that Chanyeol genuinely wonders if he blacked out for a minute. Is he that tired? Baekhyun's eyes keep digging their way into his, and Chanyeol squirms uncomfortably. He feels like there's another gap between them, except that this time, he's the one left behind and Baekhyun doesn't let him catch up.
“Uh?” Chanyeol asks, lost. Baekhyun's eyes only get heavier on him.
“Are you? Willing to do anything to make it?”
“Why-yeah, of course,” Chanyeol stutters confusedly. He forrows his eyebrows. “Is this about us being here while Jongdae is still working in the studio? Because-I mean, it's his choice. You know he writes better at night, that doesn't mean he's doing all the work on his own, and I'm pretty sure--”
Baekhyun shuts him down by pressing his index finger on Chanyeol's lips, whose eyes grow even bigger. Baekhyun patiently waits for them to get back to a normal size -as normal as it can be considering that it's Chanyeol- before he slides his hand along Chanyeol's jaw. He curls his thumb to stroke Chanyeol's chin and lets his eyes wander over his boyfriend's features. Chanyeol knows he should ask what it's all about, but he can't bring himself to do it. There's love in Baekhyun's eyes, sweet and affectionate, but the splinters are still there, and the constrast is definitely not as breathtaking as his ash blonde locks against the milkiness of his skin.
“Baek?”
“Then do it.” Baekhyun's eyes stop on Chanyeol's lips, and Chanyeol shudders. “Do what it takes to make it, okay?”
Chanyeol nods wordlessly as Baekhyun reduces the distance between them to nothing. He wants to say something so bad, he wants to ad that it's ridiculous because, of course he's going to work hard -play hard work harder isn't it their motto?- and it's not like Baekhyun will let them slacken anyway, not when he's the one saying everyday that it's their third album, and it needs to be great. Chanyeol wants to stop Baekhyun from kissing him, because even if he can't see the splinters behind Baekhyun's closed eyelids, he still can feel them in the way Baekhyun's fingers thread into his hair at the nape of his neck. When their lips meet though, Chanyeol lets go, maybe too easily, and tilts his head to kiss Baekhyun deeper.
Chanyeol can't ignore the thin layer of fear all over his body, but the electricity running down his spine when Baekhyun moans in his mouth gets the upper hand. It's better like that, he figures, better to suffocate his brain with the lack of blood that's currently going south than thinking about what seemed to be lingering under the dark surface of Baekhyun's eyes. It's probably nothing anyway, they're all nervous after all, and it'll be better once the album done.
If it turns out incredibly easy to shut down his brain, Chanyeol quickly finds out that the feeling is harder to get rid of as his fingers scrabble Baekhyun's shirt. Making love with Baekhyun was always about feeling things after all, even the first times when they were still new to this. Chanyeol already knew Baekhyun was meant to stay in his arms, and so he spent every second of their embraces feeling the heat radiating from their bodies and the red string of fate tightening around their wrists. How could he possibly bring himself to stop feeling now, as he lets his fingertips wander on Baekhyun's chest just for the sake of feeling his boyfriend shudder, or as he presses their naked bodies together to collect the impatience that makes Baekhyun's back arch. Something tells him that Baekhyun feels it too, how they move so out of time tonight, because he doesn't open his eyes a single time, or doesn't whisper Chanyeol's name like he's used to do so. The gap is back between them, because Chanyeol is slow and languid, body focused on creating and giving form to a whole set of sensations and fireworks he'll have his whole life to feel blooming on his skin and bones, but Baekhyun is fast and sharp. He's barely one heartbeat ahead of Chanyeol, but it's more than enough to insult the harmony they've always known. Chanyeol tries, skin crackling under that same feeling that something is wrong, but he finds himself breathless too soon as he desperately tries to catch up with Baekhyun, the latter seeming even more desperate to take hold of all the emotions and sensations Chanyeol has been piling up for the rest of their lives together.
Chanyeol should have known better.
“Earth to Chanyeol, I repeat, Earth to Chanyeol!”
Chanyeol blinks when Baekhyun snaps his fingers in front of his face, and it takes him a few seconds to remember why they're not in their bedroom anymore, and that the said bedroom is actually his, and only his now.
“What were you thinking about? Damn, was I talking to myself the whole time?” Baekhyun chuckles, and Chanyeol takes in his bright face. Baekhyun's hair isn't of that beautiful shade of blonde anymore, it's black, just plain black, like it was when they were in high school. His locks aren't messy though, they're shining like silk and nicely styled, framing Baekhyun's delicate face with slight ripples. Chanyeol and Jongdae used to count the seasons using Baekhyun's habit to dye his hair a little too often, but it looks like they've been living in a never-ending dull winter since Baekhyun left the band.
“Do I have something on my face?” Baekhyun asks with a hint of mischief. Yeah, Chanyeol thinks. A stupid bright smile.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I was just, uh... thinking. What were you saying?”
Baekhyun stops smiling for a few seconds, just enough to scan Chanyeol's face with his eyes, but the latter knows that whatever Baekhyun will find written on his skin, he won't say a thing. He tries his best to burry what's left of their last memory together under layers of indifference though, because he doesn't feel like sharing it with this Baekhyun and his plain black hair. Instead of facing his searching eyes, Chanyeol's wander over the rest of the room. Baekhyun's living room is bright and spacious, miles away from EXO's living room, but Chanyeol still can read the hints left by Baekhyun everywhere. His ex-boyfriend has never been much of a cleaning type, and Chanyeol finds it entertaining to no end that that Chinese dude's obvious cleaning disorder isn't enough to hide the fact that Baekhyun lives here too.
There are several books opened on the coffee table between them, and crumbled sheets of paper on the floor, signs that Baekhyun was studying when Chanyeol knocked. From where he's sitting on the couch, Chanyeol can easily read hiragana and kanji, and he recognizes some of them but not enough to grasp what the book is about. It's another new thing about Baekhyun -well not that new but for Chanyeol, everything Baekhyun has done since he left will forever be new- but Baekhyun can now flawlessly speak three languages. Korean, Japanese and English. He's studying Mandarin now, Chanyeol recalls, but -giggles- Yixing said I wasn't really good at it.
The book shelf is the funniest to Chanyeol, because he can say without any mistake which shelves are Baekhyun's, not because of the books -god knows Baekhyun reads every book he can put a hand on- but because his are shelved neatly in alphabetical order when Yixing's are just ordered by themes. There are footprints on one of the armchair's armrests as if someone -Baekhyun- had put his feet there while lying on the couch, and traces of fingers on the windows, giving away the fact that Baekhyun still enjoys stargazing.
“Okay,” Baekhyun finally says, his eye smile gone. He obviously guessed what Chanyeol was thinking about, but both of them have stayed silent for two years, and it's not going to change now. Chanyeol catches a glimpse of a wrinkle on Baekhyun's forehead but before he can realize it remembers him those splinters in Baekhyun's eyes two years ago, it's gone.
“So,” Baekhyun continues, as if nothing happened. “Jongdae and Sehun. Do you know how many articles come out every day about them?”
“Probably a lot.”
Baekhyun nods vigorously. “A lot,” he emphasizes before chuckling. “Fortunately, you guys aren't kpop idols, because it would have meant the end of your careers. Being gay and kissing his boyfriend on stage turns out to work better for a rock band, who knew?”
The conversation is easier, and the smiles more genuine. It's easy to forget about the bittherness and the absence, and the two long years that went by when Jongdae is the main topic. Usually, Chanyeol comes to visit a little more often, but they're still on tour -he convinced himself that he flied back to Seoul to visit his parents and that meeting Baekhyun wasn't planned at all- so it's the first time he sees Baekhyun after Jongdae's attempt to call him. Chanyeol knows how Jongdae felt after the failed call, and it's obvious that Baekhyun wasn't spared by what happened as well. He plays nervously with his fingers, his eyes are constantly drawn to his phone on the coffee table -phone that he usually forgets on his nightstand every morning- and there's a feeling of longing and missing so heavy on the air around Baekhyun that Chanyeol wonders how he is still breathing. It's painful, it's painful to see Jongdae crying, and it's painful to see Baekhyun swallowing down his own tears, although not as painful as learning that they are messes Chanyeol can't do anything about.
Baekhyun nervously bites his lips before taking in a long breath.
“Jongdae is happy with Sehun, right? I mean, is-is Sehun nice to him?”
Chanyeol nods. He can't say anything, because Jongdae chose to hang up when he called Baekhyun, and it's enough for Chanyeol to know that Jongdae doesn't want Baekhyun back in his life. It also means that Baekhyun can't have Jongdae back in his, and Baekhyun knows it, judging by the layers of guilt weighing on his face. Chanyeol wishes he could tell Jongdae how eager Baekhyun is to learn more about him, to know more about what's going on in his life, he wishes he could drag him right here to make him feel how Baekhyun misses him, how he still deeply cares about him; but Chanyeol knows how selfish it would be. Things have changed -everything always does- and if they needed to spend at least three nights a week together when they were in high school, it's over now. Chanyeol has always been bad with changes, and his heart obviously refuses to update on the situation, because it's been pumping missing and imbalance through his whole body for two years now.
Easiness and smiles are long gone now, replaced by silence and discomfort, like it is more often than not when Jongdae is mentioned lately. It brings so many things back, like how Chanyeol isn't supposed to hug Baekhyun now, even when his eyes are glistening with tears, or how the never-ending list of questions about what happened two years ago never left Chanyeol's mouth, answers as easily trapped by Baekhyun's.
“Do you think he'll call me again?” Baekhyun asks in a whisper-like voice, so low, so weak, that Chanyeol almost misses it. His ears are still perfectly able to catch Baekhyun or Jongdae's silent pleas for help, and his body is physically unable to turn them down, so he nods. It's funny -or just painfully ironic- how so many things have changed when so many others have stayed the same, and Chanyeol watches helplessly as Baekhyun easily reads the hesitation in his eyes and the lie possibly lingering behind his nodding. Baekhyun flashes him a poor attempt of a comforting smile before wiping his palms on his pants.
“Thank you for giving him my number, though. I never asked you to do it, but you did, and... thank you.”
There's a lingering pause between them, and Chanyeol feels like they've never been so close to closing the gap between them since that day, two years ago, and for a moment, he considers asking everything he needs to ask. Why did you go? If it's that painful for you, why did you sacrifice us? What were you trying to tell me the night before? Was it because of me...? Was there something that I could have done to keep you from going away...? Why did you leave us? Why did you give up on me? Baekhyun's eyes meet his, and Chanyeol knows that Baekhyun is about to answer, and it feels like his hair are back at being blonde, they're back at joking about England and being deeply in love, and the dark chocolate of Baekhyun's eyes has never been cut by merciless splinters of ending. Eventually, the second flies by, and their hearts beat one time, two times, and it's all gone. Chanyeol chokes up on his questions, and Baekhyun burries his answers, and the gap is back, wide as if someone had been digging it for two years.
Baekhyun never gave the strong rock’n’roll vibe, like Zitao could, for exemple, with a leather jacket on, but he had been the best at bending the rules to turn them to his advantage, and Chanyeol -like everyone else-- has always thought Baekhyun looked stunning with his eyes darkened by smoky eyeliner. It's been two years since the last time he saw Baekhyun wearing make-up though, but Chanyeol doesn't mourn the lack of eyeliner like he does with the hair color: he has always liked bare-faced Baekhyun the most. And right now, a very bare-faced Baekhyun is staring at him through the webcam, his glistenning button nose only a few inches away from the laptop screen. Chanyeol can't help but smile as he makes out Baekhyun's body wrapped in the blankets despite the darkness of the latter's hotel room, the only light in his own being the faint glow coming from his laptop.
“I'm fucking tired,” Baekhyun grumbles, hiding a yawn with the palm of his hand. “I'll ask my boss tomorrow if I can stay a little longer here, like a day or two.”
Chanyeol nods. Baekhyun does look a little weary, his features accentuated by the lack of sleep, but they're skyping in the middle of the night, and it probably doesn't help.
“What time is it in Nagoya right now?” Chanyeol flashes Baekhyun an innocent grin when the latter throw him a jaded glance.
“I'm still an hour ahead of you, Yeol, it hasn't changed since the last time you asked.”
Chanyeol shrugs, as if to say 'you never know' and Baekhyun sighs, his own lips curved into a smile too hard to restrain.
Baekhyun travels a lot for work, that didn't change, except that it's not for mind-blowing concerts anymore, but for the well-balanced articles he writes. During the last two years, Chanyeol has witnessed the papers signed by Byun Baekhyun go from the fun facts page to the news in brief column to finally make the headlines more often than not. Chanyeol has read them all, digging out words and wording proper to Baekhyun, and spotting passion in every one of them, even in the one about that dog trained to bring lost items back to their owners at the airport. It does seem lackluster and boring to him, but since Baekhyun became a journalist, Chanyeol has to admit that he's never been more aware of what is going on in the world. Not to mention that since Baekhyun has been assigned to more serious topics --this way forcing him to travel several times a month-- they can skype more often without Chanyeol wondering where Yixing is. When the background behind Baekhyun's delicate face is just a plain hotel room, it almost feels like nothing has changed, like Baekhyun has just been asked by Junmyeon to attend some random scheduled events on his own.
“You know little Tao's gonna be an pain in the ass tomorrow.” Baekhyun is spread out on his back, his dischevelled hair now in the foreground, as he plays Angry Birds on his phone. “Alcohol doesn't sit well with him.”
Chanyeol sighs, because he knows that Baekhyun is right, and judging by what he saw when he left the club to head back to the hotel, he won't only have to deal with a hungover Zitao, but with the whole band sick with leftovers of alcohol vapors.
“I should drink too,” Chanyeol sighs again. “There's no way I can handle them if I'm sober.”
Baekhyun locks his phone and streches out while letting out a loud peal of laughter. The quality of the video is really high, Chanyeol notices almost despite himself, because he can make out Baekhyun's lashes fluttering against his round cheekbones, and a little further on, his feet are peeking out under the blankets. Baekhyun is about to add something when Chanyeol's door snaps open, and Chanyeol watches, horrified, as a stumbling Jongdae enters his room. From the corner of his vision, he sees Baekhyun rolling on his belly, his brows furrowed in confusion. Chanyeol thanks the Lord that Jongdae can't see his laptop's screen and prays frantically that Baekhyun stays quiet.
“Sehun's an asshole,” Jongdae blurts out, his nose scrunched up with disdain.
Chanyeol sees Baekhyun's eyes snap wide open before he presses his hands against his mouth to muffle his breathing. Chanyeol's heart is beating erratically in his chest, not out of fear of getting caught but out of hope that Jongdae will come closer to take a look at his laptop. It's the first time since too many months that his two best friends, the two people he loves the most, are in the same room, and the fact that Baekhyun is actually in Japan while they're still in China doesn't even cross his mind. He feels dizzy, overwhelmed by all the possibilities and by all that could happen if he decided to turn his laptop. His fingers itch with need and want, and he probably would have done it, probably, if his eyes didn't catch the perfect mix of happiness and sadness on Baekhyun's face. It's the first time in two years that he gets to hear Jongdae talk, and Jongdae is obviously drunk, still pouting in front of Chanyeol's bed, but it's been two fucking long years, and it could end in less than a second. Chanyeol thinks about Baekhyun's repetitive glances to his phone, and he gives up. He's going to offer him this whole conversation.
“Not new.” Chanyeol grins, trying to forget Baekhyun's eyes weighing on him.
Jongdae ignores him and stamps his feet, his nose still crunched up.
“He promised we would spend the night together, like only the two of us, but then he saw Jongin, Tao and those guys from the opening band, and he said we should tag along.” Jongdae's eyes narrow to slits. “Chanyeol, you know how bad I am at tagging along. I don't tag along.”
Chanyeol furiously nods when he realises that Jongdae expects a reaction from him. He thinks he hears Baekhyun chuckling.
“He kept on laughing and joking,” Jongdae stresses with a look of pure disdain as if it was the biggest afront he's ever witnessed. “And then he cheered for Jongin in that stupid drinking game -because Jongin wants to impress that tiny singer you know?- and he bought even more shooters, and Tao is going to be so fucking annoying tomorrow. And when I said that we should go, he said,” Jongdae raises his index finger for dramatic effects and mimics with a high-pitched voice. “'But we're having so much fun, hyung.”
Chanyeol has to bite his lips to keep his laugh in the back of his throat where it tingles and tickles. Jongdae look so pissed off, and he probably thinks he's being scary as he glares at Chanyeol when, in reality, he just looks even tinier than usual with his hair dischevelled and his eyes hooded by alcohol.
“How dare he,” Chanyeol finally mocks, but Jongdae is way too drunk to grasp the irony, and he gasps with offense.
“Exactly,” he exclaims. “Exactly!”
This time, Chanyeol has to pretend to bite his nails, because he's now sure that Baekhyun is laughing, buried deep under his blankets, and Baekhyun's laugh has always been the most contagious. Chanyeol's stomach fills up with bubbly tingles. It's the closest they have been to normal since such a long time, and he's reminded of sleepless nights and uncontrollable fits of laughter, the memories so vivid he doesn't notice that Jongdae is back at whining.
“You're drunk,” Chanyeol cuts and Jongdae stops his tirade to look at him, dumbfounded.
“Oh, come on, I'm not that drunk,” he protests before stopping to considerate. “Okay, maybe I am, but Sehun's drunk too!” Jongdae retorts.
“And?” Chanyeol asks, trying -failing- to hide his amusement. Jongdae can be really annoying when he's drunk, more annoying than usual, the back-to-five-of-age-mental kind of annoying, but he's also entertaining to no end with his pink cheekbones and abusive use of pouts.
“Well, we're both drunk, so I don't know, we cancel one another out, don't we?”
Chanyeol stares. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Baekhyun putting another pillow on the lump of blankets he has become to muffle his chuckles, making Chanyeol's own laughter even harder to swallow down, especially considering the way Jongdae is now looking at him.
“What?” Jongdae asks, frowning.
“If anything, it's more like... multiplying, Jongdae,” Chanyeol explains calmly, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch.
Jongdae considers him silently for a whole minute before shrugging it off. “Yeah, whatever. Sehun's still an ass and he lost the right to sleep with me tonight. So I'm gonna sleep...” His eyes scan the room and he points his index finger at the fancy couch behind him. “Here.”
Before Chanyeol can say anything, Jongdae curls up under one of Chanyeol's hoodie and nuzzles the armchair of the couch with a content smile curling the corners of his lips. He muffles a yawn with the hood and finally closes his eyes, his breathing already slowing down. Chanyeol watches him, love and affection filling up his chest until it becomes painful, a hint of possessiveness, unexpected but not surprising, tiggling as it rushes in his veins. They had to rebuild everything when Baekhyun left, find new rituals and habits while ignoring how they missed the old ones. There wasn't any let's-sleep-on-the-bed-together-and-the-first-who-falls-cooks-breakfast nights anymore, no more pranks on Junmyeon, it was all gone, but Jongdae and Chanyeol managed eventually. They sewed it all up with layers of new routines and strengthened the stitches that were already binding them, and sleeping in each other's room from time to time is just one of those new habits. Chanyeol knows that if Baekhyun were to complain, he'd rather turn his computer off than throw Jongdae out, no matter how painful the possibility already rings through his mind. When he glances down at Baekhyun with def,iance as if to dare him to say anything though, he meets sad eyes staring straight back at him. Baekhyun is aware of it, he's aware of the fact that he's in Japan while Chanyeol and Jongdae are both in China, and he's aware that when he said that he didn't want to be part of the band anymore, he also cut himself out of the person the three of them had become.
Chanyeol contemplates asking Baekhyun why he still did it despite all of it. It happens more often than not, but he's spent two years keeping his questions buried deep inside him, and he's afraid the words will never come back to him anymore. He's not even sure there is a reason, and even if it is, he knows he can't face it. Whatever Baekhyun's reasons were, Chanyeol will probably never accept them because, in the end, they were more important than both him and Jongdae, but it's been two long years, and it could all come to a conclusion tonight.
“Baek..” Chanyeol licks his lips, Baekhyun's glistening eyes knocking the air out of him.
Baekhyun takes a deep breath and blinks before wiping his cheeks.
“Can I see him, Yeol?” he begs, ignoring on purpose the question hung up on the tip of Chanyeol's tongue. He looks up at him and once again, Chanyeol admires the quality of the video as he sees Baekhyun's knuckles whitening on his pillow. “Please?”
Chanyeol vacillates, possessiveness and desire to protect Jongdae washing over him, as well as cold revenge, as must as he dislikes it. Baekhyun left, he left them both behind, and Chanyeol could simply shake his head and end it just like that. Too bad for you, Baek. On the other hand, Chanyeol is still desperately in love with Baekhyun, with the way his button nose glistens in the faint light coming from his laptop or how pink his lips look even without make up, and his heart can't bear watching him cry. He oscillates and wavers and loses when Baekhyun's eyes flutter closed. Slowly, Chanyeol turns the laptop.
Baekhyun sniffs as he wipes his tears away, a smile waking up the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.
“He looks awful,” he says jokingly, and Chanyeol's heart deflates with the quaver in Baekhyun's voice. “Poor Sehun, being in love with all that ugliness must not be easy every day.”
Chanyeol smiles as he watches Jongdae fast asleep. “Yeah, well, Sehun is uglier.”
Baekhyun chuckles and when Chanyeol brings back the laptop on his pillow, he sees him nodding. They stare at each other for a while, and Chanyeol easily reads silent thank yous all over Baekhyun's face. He sighs and slips under the covers.
“Good night, Baek.”
Baekhyun flashes him a pale smile as he brings his own covers up to his chin. None of them turn their laptop off, and if Chanyeol falls asleep, he doesn't notice it right away, mind already filled with wishful thinkings and happy endings. It's only when he feels Baekhyun's fingers run through his hair in a soothing manner that he realises that something is off, but it's the glimpse of ash blonde hair he catches that takes him farther away in his dream.
He wakes up a couple of hours later to pink and orange shyly coloring the sky and Jongdae and Sehun muttering on the doorstep. It's way too early, and Chanyeol falls back asleep in seconds to his laptop's faint glow and Baekhyun fast asleep with his fingers on his forehead as Jongdae quietly shuts the door behind him and Sehun.
China was their last stop, and six months after its beginning, their tour finally reaches its end. It feels weird to be back in the apartment in Seoul's downtown, and the exhaustion they're all wearing makes the adjustement even harder to cope with. Zitao and Jongin stayed in China for a few more days, visiting Tao's family like the three youngers usually do, except that Sehun came home with Jongdae this time. Chanyeol misses them, just like he misses Junmyeon's daily presence, but they've all been there before and they know that if the end of a gig is hard to bear, the end of a tour is even worse. Chanyeol doesn't understand rockstars who let poisonous substances take over their veins one by one when he feels like he goes on rehab every time they come home after a tour. The withdrawal is heavy and noxious, and it leaves his body into pieces. Fragile and tired don't even come close to describing how they feel as the world outside keeps on turning, and they have to relearn the most simple routines, such as eating breakfast and going grocery shopping even though their bones feel like they've been reduced to ashes.
The sudden need to see Baekhyun takes Chanyeol by surprise as he makes his way back to his room with a bag of chips. He's tired and cold, and his limbs feel heavier than ever, but he's suddenly not sure that his bed can help him. The whole appartement is silent, so silent that it feels like all those empty spaces have turned into lurking monsters, and Chanyeol can feel them waiting for him to lay down to claw at his heart. He's usually not afraid of the silence and the introspection it brings, but he's spent the last six months surrounded by people and noise, and he forgot how he's supposed to feel in all that silence. He needs to get out of here.
He wastes no time in taking a shower, only grabbing hastily some pants and a black shirt with EXO's logo blooming in the front --it's called self-promoting-- before he pratically runs to the living room. Jongdae and Sehun are right where he left them after his raid to the kitchen to steal the last bag of chips --spread out on the couch with Sehun's long legs hanging off the edge and his arms wrapped around Jongdae to make sure the latter doesn't fall-- and they both watch him put on his hoodie, confused.
“I'm just going out an hour or two,” Chanyeol says, beating questions he knows would force him to lie. “I'll grab dinner on my way back,” he ads with a flash of inspiration as he puts on his shoes. Who asks questions when food is involved? Certainly not Sehun and Jongdae, so Chanyeol rushes out the door without a look to his friends, this way failing to notice Jongdae's eyes heavy on him.
It's only when Chanyeol knocks for the fourth time on the door that he realises that it's not even four in the afternoon and that Baekhyun is probably still working. He keeps knocking though, because he can't go back now, and if he has to, maybe he'll just sit down and wait for Baekhyun to come home. What if Yixing comes home first? Chanyeol freezes, his knuckles a few inches away from the door, and he bites his under lip. His mind is forcing the reality on him, like it's kept doing it for the past two years, rationalizing that Baekhyun isn't his anymore, but Yixing's, and that he's not Baekhyun's priority anymore; but Chanyeol shuts the voice in his head and resumes knocking with a resolute frown on his face.
“Calm down! I'm coming!” There's some ruffling on the other side of the door as Baekhyun's grumpy voice gets closer. “Seriously, what the fuck...”
The door opens and Chanyeol looks down to a frowning Baekhyun still in his pajamas. The latter's face immediately brightens as he takes in his visitor.
“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun's smile is blinding, burning Chanyeol's irises and setting fire to his optical nerves. The fire in his head roasts his brain with flashes of shirt too large to hide pale collarbones, bed hair and swollen face.
“You're not working?” Chanyeol stammers, confused.
“Do I look like I'm working?” Baekhyun chuckles before steping on the side for Chanyeol to come in. He doesn't. “There was this party at work yesterday, and I guess it was fun because I can't remember a damn thing. I'm so fucking tired seriously, I feel old.” He stops and frowns as he tilts his head. Chanyeol's heart flutters. “Yeol? Is there something wrong?”
Chanyeol shakes his head, but his eyes stay glued to Baekhyun. He feels overwhelmed by the amount of details his eyes send to his brain, like how Baekhyun's pants fall on his feet because they're too long, or the dried toothpaste on the corner of his mouth and the dirty bangs sticking out above his forehead. It's not the first time his sees this kind of Baekhyun, and Chanyeol could almost laugh at the irony if he wasn't too busy trying to remember that Baekhyun didn't just get home after a six-month-long tour too. His brain has been fucking wrong all this time, he realizes, because Baekhyun didn't change a bit, he's exactly like he used to be, only Chanyeol can't have him anymore.
Except that he still wants to.
Something snaps in Chanyeol, and it only takes him two steps to shut his conscience off. He cups Baekhyun's face with his hands and craches their lips. Baekhyun's heart beats four times before he closes the door, it takes Chanyeol half of a second to realizes that Baekhyun is kissing him back. Desperation is washing over them, and they stumble to the couch -one, two, three, four, five steps- before exploding into a hot mess of want and barely contained gasps. Baekhyun looks so small under him, half of the Baekhyun he usually is, but it's okay because Chanyeol happens to be missing half of himself too. They kiss, one time, two times, three, Baekhyun's moan blooms on Chanyeol's tongue, four, five, Baekhyun tosses his hoodie away, six, seven, he wraps his legs around Chanyeol's waist, locking his ankles on the small of his back, eight, nine, and Chanyeol stops counting when Baekhyun buries his hands -ten fingers warm and demanding- deep under his shirt.
Baekhyun's curves feel the exact same way under Chanyeol's fingertips, there's no space enough left between them for the gap to remain and they're back at what they were two years ago. When Chanyeol 's hand brushes Baekhyun's pants' waistband, the latter still lets out the same needy moan he always used to, and it still sets Chanyeol on fire. There's no time to remember how he missed it, all of it, and to whisper broken I love yous in the crook of Baekhyun's neck. Even the sparkles of electricity that curl around his spine last too long, they're only predicting thunderstorms and electric crackling on the surface of Chanyeol's skin when lightnings are already breaking him apart. They burn in the most beautiful electrical storm ever seen.
Baekhyun arches his back, pressing himself against Chanyeol's chest as his fingers dig a little deeper in Chanyeol's shoulderblades. Their shirts are long gone and Baekhyun's pants hang loosely around his hips, pale skin and sharp bones burning Chanyeol's irises as his fingers wrap themselves around Baekhyun's cock. Baekhyun's hands quake against the skin of his back and his voice breaks as he moans. He's warm and needy, seizing every space around Chanyeol's body, but it's always been like that: Baekhyun undulates like waves, and crashes against the shore that Chanyeol is.
Impatient hands unbuckle Chanyeol's belt and put his pants down before digging into his flesh when Chanyeol tightens his hold on Baekhyun's cock. Baekhyun's pleading moan scratches the silence around them, but they're both already indifferent to the reality to mind the background noises and the hundred of reasons they shouldn't be doing it. Baekhyun grabs him by the neck and pulls him down to crash their lips together. He doesn't wait to curl his tongue in between Chanyeol's teeth and lick every millimeter of his mouth, gasping and moaning against his tongue at each stroke of Chanyeol's hand.
Chanyeol's breath hitches in the back of his throat when Baekhyun presses his crotch against Chanyeol's cock at every motion of Chanyeol's wrist, and the kiss turns into Baekhyun's tongue licking at the corner of his mouth when his moans get a pitch higher, the lack of oxygen making his breathing harder. Chanyeol recognizes the faint shudder all over Baekhyun's body, and the way he tightens his legs around his waist, and for a moment he considers making Baekhyun come just like this, with his hand deep in his pants and his fingers following the veins on his cock, but they've been apart for so long, and Chanyeol really wants to feel him. He pulls his hand away and straigthens up, Baekhyun's whine at the loss of his fingers tightening a little more the muscles in his belly. He grabs Baekhyun's pants and drags them down along with his underwear, and watches Baekhyun twitch with barely registered uncomfort when the fabric slides against over sensitive skin. The sight of red patches of skin blooming on Baekhyun's thighs as well as his leaking cock heavy on his stomach makes Chanyeol groan with need. He forgets Baekhyun's pants in the middle of his thighs, his own just above his knees, and leans down to bury his face in the crook of Baekhyun's neck as his hips look for the friction he's so desperate for.
Baekhyun immediately arches into the touch, mouth open in a silent moan and both hands pressed against Chanyeol's ass. Their pants half removed make the motion a little harder, but it doesn't stop them from rutting against each other. The sliding is easy with how sweaty they both are, and it creates thousands of fireplaces over their skins. Baekhyun's moans turn into shrill cries as Chanyeol runs his tongue along his carotid, feeding on the hectic beating of his heart. Baekhyun's fingers press red crescent moons on his back as he struggles to break one of his legs free from his pants. The way he wriggles under him catches Chanyeol by surprise, and he holds Baekhyun firmly, suddenly afraid the shorter male will run away. Baekhyun doesn't though, he only wraps his now totally naked leg aroung Chanyeol's waist and looks up at him with dark dark dark eyes and pink lips, flushed cheeks and sweaty bangs. Chanyeol gasps when he feels long fingers wrap around both of their cocks, and it's the last thing he registers. Everything else is lost in their moans, lost in the desperate thrusts and messy grinding. They've become a mess of tangled limbs with blurry frontiers between their tongues and lips, and despite the adrenaline rushing into their veins, their heartbeats get drowned in their skins slapping together.
Baekhyun licks his jawline as he tightens his hold on their cocks and Chanyeol feels himself slipping away. His whole body shudders as the world implodes right before his eyes, white and burning, and it chars his skin in the most delicious way. He cries with discomfort when Baekhyun's fingers linger on the head of his cock, but doesn't let the oversensitive skin draw him away from Baekhyun. He takes in the mouth open in a silent scream and the way Baekhyun wrinkles only one side of his nose when he stops using Chanyeol's body to chase after his complexion because it hits him in a silent pang that blossoms all over his body. Baekhyun grabs him by the neck and pulls him down, and the world implodes a second time as Chanyeol picks Baekhyun's jerky cries directly in his mouth.
Chanyeol would have thought he'd be lost in the feeling of Baekhyun's body all over him forever, and it's a fate he's more than happy to accept, but it turns out that measuring the time passing by with the shaky breaths coming out from Baekhyun's swollen lips doesn't slow it down, and soon enough Baekhyun's beating heart doesn't beat erratically enough to eclipse the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall above the TV screen anymore. Reality rushes in and Chanyeol is remembered things he would have liked better forgotten. Like how cuddly Baekhyun is after love, how good it feels to have him wrapped around his body, bathing in the leftover sensations Chanyeol hid all over his body, or more importantly, the fact that Baekhyun is with Yixing, and that Chanyeol is now back where he was two years ago when Baekhyun left: memories vivid all over his skin but empty space in the bed they once shared.
His mind screams red alert and his blood freezes in his veins with the need to flee out of this apartment right away. He disentangles himself from Baekhyun's grip, the latter's hold leaving red scratches on his skin when Chanyeol pushes him away.
"Chanyeol, wait--" Baekhyun begs.
"I have to go," Chanyeol interrupts him before pulling his pants back up. He meets Baekhyun's pleading eyes and freezes. His ex-boyfriend is still half-naked, spread out on the couch all for Chanyeol to see, his neck turned into a beautiful canvas in which red and purple are blooming like supernovas, celebrating the memories of Chanyeol's teeth and lips.
"Chanyeol?" Baekhyun tries again, hesitant, but soft, oh so soft.
Chanyeol hears the mutted 'we need to talk' he's been desperate to hear for two long-ass years, but his mind blanks out and he grabs his shirt before rushing to the door.
He's just so fucking scared of what might come after it.
When Chanyeol comes back home, Sehun and Jongdae aren't on the couch anymore. It's silent in the appartement, but the faint hope Chanyeol was nursing about being alone for a while dies out when Sehun's head pops out through the kitchen door.
“Hey, where's the food?” Sehun questions with a frown as he comes out of the kitchen, his wet hands in a towel. Chanyeol should be amazed because Sehun is doing the dishes for the first time since he moved into their appartement, but he's too busy feeling whatever he's feeling right now. He doesn't answer and walks straight to his room, afraid that opening his mouth will give his tongue the power to create words and sentences he's not quite ready to hear.
I slept with Baekhyun.
“Hyung, you promised food!” Sehun shouts from behind his back, but Chanyeol opens the door of his room without a look for the younger boy.
It turns out that his room isn't the shelter he wanted it to be in the end, and Chanyeol suddenly feels like all those sentences he tried so hard to gulp down are now written in big neon letters above his head when his eyes meet Jongdae's from across the room. His bestfriend is sitting on his bed, his expression closed but not closed enough for Chanyeol to not be able to read it. Chanyeol has seen Jongdae at his worst, when exhaustion and despair were so heavy that he just couldn't get up, and Jongdae is now staring straight into Chanyeol's worst.
Chanyeol's throat tightens when he realizes that Jongdae is holding the frame normally on his bedside table. He was probably looking at it when Chanyeol rushed into the room, even if Chanyeol knows that Jongdae has exactly the same picture in his wallet. He supposes it holds a greater meaning in the daylight, because Jongdae's copy never leaves the darkness.
“He's gonna break your heart,” Jongdae finally says, dully, before putting the frame back on the nightstand.
He stands up and walks towards Chanyeol, the latter waiting for the blow, the screams and the anger, but Jongdae's eyes remain soft and warm on him. He thinks he feels their fingers brush, but it's over in less than a second. The door closes quietly behind his back, and Jongdae singsongs on the other side, as if nothing happened.
“Grab your phone, Sehun! Chanyeol is treating us to pizza tonight!”
Because Chanyeol has seen Jongdae's worst, and because Jongdae has tried to brighten Chanyeol's worst, Chanyeol easily understands what lingers in Jongdae's cheerful voice now ringing in the living room. There's a reason why Jongdae's copy of the picture remains in the darkness of his wallet, and just like Chanyeol, there are messes he can't do anything about, but if in the end Chanyeol's worst turns out to be darker than expected, Jongdae will be there.
Chanyeol is left starring at the frame on his nightstand and, as he remembers the day the three of them took that picture, there are only two things left in his brain.
First, he's actually pretty sure his fingers and Jongdae's brushed.
Second, he needs to know when he'll get to see Baekhyun again.
Time passes by in a blurr. Jongin and Zitao come back from China, arms full of presents none of them really needs, like that fake cat hiding in a bag of chips Jongin proudly hands to Jongdae, but Chanyeol and Jongdae still humor them while Sehun cackers in the corner of the living room. It's easier to realize they're back in the real world now that they're all together again, and routine kicks in soon enough for them to act a little less off and a little more like they're alive. The appartement gets noisy, Friday nights are dedicated to Chinese dramas that Zitao translates with high-pitched voices and enthusiastic hand gestures, Junmyeon is invited for dinner every two days, and sometimes Sehun wakes up in the middle of the night to find Jongdae's side of the bed empty. Those days, Zitao -up at dawn for his jogging session- wakes up to Jongdae and Sehun fast asleep in the living room, Sehun's slender limbs awkwardly dangling off the two armrests of the couch and his face pressed into a cushion while beautiful pieces of song lyrics hastily scribbled at two a.m serve as a pillow for Jongdae. The windows are always opened and the wind plays with the long curtains, turning the transparent white fabric into peaceful waves of liquid light everytime the residents catch the curtains at the edge of their vision. The recording studio gets mentionned for the first time a couple of weeks later, even if the word has been hidden in the delicate rays of sunshine going through the windows and warming up their bodies for the past few days already. The air tastes like revival, and the brightest colors -like Jongin's neon yellow sweater- shine softly to their eyes, like pastel colors.
But Chanyeol doesn't feel the oxygen filling up his lungs like the others do. He feels like he's locked up in another dimension, some kind of parallel world where time isn't measured by clock ticking and sunsets, but by moans and delicate fingers buried in his hair. It's like watching his bandmates through a full-length mirror, and some nights he dreams the mirror never breaks and he never gets the chance to be the Chanyeol on the other side anymore.
It could be different, Chanyeol could be the happiest of all, even happier than Sehun watching Jongdae when he thinks nobody is looking, because he visits Baekhyun almost everyday now. There's talking and laughing, but also silence. Silences long and heavy, silences that seem to emphasize every little detail, like Baekhyun's pillows that aren't matching -one is bright white and the other cream ivory and Chanyeol doesn't wonder which one is Yixing's- or the frame on Baekhyun's nightstand with one of those weird pictures of smiling couples there always is inside of new frames. There also are explosions and supernovas, when their skins touch, when Baekhyun kisses him, mouth hot and demanding, when he takes him by the hand and drags him to the bedroom. While Jongdae writes lyrics, Chanyeol reads Baekhyun's body, and Baekhyun prints traces of his presence all over Chanyeol's.
There's a tiny crack, like a reminder of everything that's wrong everytime the burning needles disappear from Chanyeol's spine, and he knows it's what has built the mirror and the reason why the white curtains look like ghosts to him. Baekhyun's pleading eyes always follow him when he grabs his clothes and leave the room, but he never says anything. Somewhere along the way, Chanyeol has convinced himself that it's because Baekhyun's words aren't made of happiness and promises, but of apologies and goodbyes, so he always makes sure to be out of the apartment before his lover opens his mouth. Maybe Jongdae's right after all, maybe some things are better left in the dark.
When Chanyeol comes home, Jongdae is always there, hazelnut eyes heavy on him, but when he hands him his guitar for an improvised jam session, Jongdae's hand now always lingers, and their fingers brush every single time.
It's hot, terribly hot. There's a weird voice in the back of Chanyeol's mind that tells him he could have come up with better adjectives, because the way Baekhyun's body is spread out under his is hot, for sure, but it's also more than that, so much more. Baekhyun has always been everything to him, even the words Chanyeol has never known, and he regrets not having Jongdae's talent with words, because Baekhyun deserves every single immortalization there is, from the burning silhouette he leaves behind Chanyeol's close eyelids to the most beautiful song ever written.
There's love pourring from Baekhyun's eyes, mixed with lust and a bit of provocation when he takes one of Chanyeol's hands to his mouth and licks his index finger, pupils blown into dark holes. Chanyeol gasps, and the wetness of Baekhyun's tongue around his finger makes his blood boil, the hotness going straight to his arousal. Baekhyun is playing with him, a faint smirk revealing perfect white teeth, as his tongue mimics the licking it did a couple of days earlier on a totally different part of Chanyeol's body. Chanyeol likes Baekhyun cocky and cheeky, but he likes him even more too lost to remember how to control himself, he likes him blown out into burning white pieces, pleasure too strong for him to say anything else than pleading moans and broken Chanyeols, and Chanyeol knows how to take Baekhyun that far.
He pulls his finger away from Baekhyun's glistening lips, and presses his hand on his jawline to force him to turn his head. Chanyeol's eyes dig holes in the pale skin where Baekhyun's neck meets his collarbones as his other hand palms Baekhyun's erection through the thin fabric of his underwear. He waits until Baekhyun vibrates from pleasure to lean down. His lips graze the delicate skin and Baekhyun whines in the back of his throat. It's amazing how they're both made of blood and water, soft skin hiding hundred of neurons judiciously situated, but everything seems so much more magic when it comes to Baekhyun. Chanyeol's tongue softly follows a pattern only him can see on Baekhyun's collarbone, and he imagines it to be the long run of one of Baekhyun's veins. He feels Baekhyun's heart pumping erratically in his chest when he closes his teeth on one of his nipples, and almost sees the air rushing out of Baekhyun's lungs to turn into a hoarse moan somewhere in the depth of Baekhyun's throat. Baekhyun is a miracle, born from luck or fate -or even both- and everything about him is perfect. Chanyeol can only worship him, especially when he thinks about the billions of possibilities that came with Baekhyun's parents' DNA and how he could have missed everything that makes Baekhyun his Baekhyun.
Baekhyun throws his head back on the couch when Chanyeol's lips kiss the softness of his belly as he presses his erection against Chanyeol's hand, looking for some kind of deliverance.
“Chanyeol, please..” he begs, and Chanyeol nibbles his hipbone as an answer.
It's hot, terribly hot, and Chanyeol thinks it must be why none of them heard the door of the apartment. They both hear the throat clearing though, and it takes Chanyeol less than two seconds to realize it's useless to try and find a way to explain their compromising position when his tongue was running along Baekhyun's waistband a heartbeat before. Baekhyun gasps as he sits up, a new shade of red blossoming on his cheeks as his fingers dig deeper into the skin of Chanyeol's shoulderblades.
There's a man starring at them behind the couch, and the first thing Chanyeol registers is the amused smile. He's short, but not as short as Baekhyun, and he's neatly dressed, with his shirt tucked into his dark trousers. His hair is just as nicely combed, falling just under his eyebrows and leaving enough space for two dark warm eyes. He flashes them an apologetic smile before rubbing the back of his neck.
“Uhm... Awkward.” he chuckles with a heavy Chinese accent. Chanyeol's heart drops in his chest and he barely registers Baekhyun's hand soothing circles on his back. “I'm just--” The intruder points at a door a couple of feet away and makes a vague gesture, before letting out a sigh. “I'm sorry,” he finally says. “Don't mind me. Just get back-- get back to what you were doing.”
He smiles another time, two deep dimples digging the soft-looking skin of his cheeks, and walks towards the door. Chanyeol's brows furrows a little more when he notices a bed before the Chinese guy closes the door behind him. He realizes he's never seen that room, but it doesn't make sense. Baekhyun's room is on the other side, why would they need another bed? Unless Baekhyun lives with another Chinese man, this was Yixing, and Chanyeol has no place for doubt, because the neat apparence of the man makes it clear that he's the one cleaning the whole apartment. He turns his head toward Baekhyun who is now fanning himself with his free hand, the other still drawing soothing circles on his back. Chanyeol pulls aways and Baekhyun turns big worried eyes at him.
“I'm-- I'm sorry Chanyeol, Yixing wasn't supposed to come home before a couple of hours.” He chuckles nervously. “This wasn't how I wanted you two to meet, but I guess I don't have to cook a royal dinner anymore now.”
Chanyeol's confusion grows bigger at Baekhyun's words, and he desantangles himself from Baekhyun's legs.
“What the hell?” He takes another look at the door before turning his back towards Baekhyun. “It was Yixing?”
Baekhyun nods, a little unsure. None of this makes sense, and before he can stop himself, Chanyeol puts words in a question and blurts it out, this time his need for answer too strong for him to stay silent.
“Did your boyfriend just tell you to sleep with me?”
Baekhyun's eyes open wide and to Chanyeol's surprise, he lets out a small chuckle before furiously shaking his head.
“Yixing's not my boyfriend, Chanyeol. He's just my roommate. He's always been just my roommate.” He considers. “And a friend.”
Chanyeol stares, mouth agape, and for a second, Baekhyun disappears from his vision, replaced by all the memories of Baekhyun telling him about Yixing. Yixing is Chinese, Yixing is a teacher, Yixing cooks well, but not matter how hard Chanyeol thinks, he can't find any Yixing's my roommate. They're both half-naked on the couch, his skin just a few inches from Baekhyun's, but Chanyeol has never been more aware of the gap the two years apart dig between them. He grabs his shirt on the back of the couch and puts it on. Baekhyun frowns.
“Chanyeol?”
“Why the fuck didn't you tell me?!” Chanyeol snaps as he raises to his feet. “The sight must've been fucking hilarious, right? Miserable Chanyeol still desperately in love with the Great Byun fucking Baekhyun!”
“Wha--”
“Fuck you, Baekhyun. Fuck you, and your games and whatever the hell you're doing, just...” Chanyeol stops, the air so heavy in his lungs that breathing feels like he's being punched incessantly, and torn apart from this inside. “I can't believe you did this to me.”
“I... I didn't know you'd think Yixing and I were dating..” Baekhyun falters, lost and confused.
“Right, because you were so explicit about it?” Chanyeol finishes sarcastically.
Baekhyun shakes his head, looking so small and fragile on that big couch that Chanyeol's heart can't help but falter. He still sees the path he drew with the tip of his longue across white expanse of skin, and it's driving him crazy. Red anger is flashing at the edges of his vision, but it's the fact that it's not aiming at Baekhyun that drives him crazy. It's been two years and every morning, he still wakes up with guilt wrapped around his body, he's never asked a single question, too coward and afraid, and the truth is that he's struggling to not lean down and kiss Baekhyun's sad pout away. He should have known better, learned his lesson better.
“No,” Baekhyun finally mumbles, looking right at him. “Because it doesn't make any sense. Why would I sleep with someone else?”
Chanyeol doesn't see the feral smile he flashes, but he feels it weighing on his lips. He's remembered of something he said to Jongdae several week before, something about dancing on the edge, and he feels like he's the one hoping on a thin string right now, but he's not gonna fall to Baekhyun. Not again.
“And why wouldn't it make sense? You left, Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun shakes his head another time, his eyes glistening with tears. “I never said I was leaving you.”
It's so absurd, it's so far from holding a meaning that Chanyeol can't help but chuckling. The sound feels empty and bitter, and he's sure he tastes blood on the tip of his tongue.
“What the fuck?” he snorts. “I'll never come back is what you said, Baekhyun. I think that says enough, don't you?”
Baekhyun watches him, and to Chanyeol's distress, the first of numerous tears slips out of his eyes. Red patches of skin are already blossoming on his face, like it does everytime he cries, and there's a faint shiver running along the curves of his body. Baekhyun presses a cushion to his chest and lowers his head. Chanyeol would have liked screaming and anger better, he would even have enjoyed insults and threats, but maybe Baekhyun is getting ready. Maybe he'll reach out for him and grab him by the wrist to keep him from leaving.
Chanyeol takes a step back. The windows are opened here too, but the curtains are of a beautiful shade of pale blue, and with the light showering through them, there's a faint glint lingering on the fabric, just like the one that dazzles you when a mirror reflects the sun.
Baekhyun never stops him.
part 2 >>