exo: oh, the things we invent (1/2)
oh, the things we invent (when we are scared and want to be rescued)
- Baekhyun/Baekhyun + Kyungsoo, eventual Baekhyun/Kyungsoo. NC-17. 16000 words.
- "prepare for trouble," baekhyun said. "and make it double," baekhyun - the other baekhyun - added.
- march 8, white day advent calendar, for drankcontrast. also on dreamwidth and AO3.
- this was the first one i ever finished in the white day advent calendar, but there will be another fic (or a couple) posted on the last friday of the month!
- a kind artist drew something for this fic HERE! please show her lots of love ♥
Kyungsoo has never experienced a stranger Monday his entire life.
It starts off relatively normal: he gets up ten minutes before the alarm goes off, but remains slumped against the headboard for another five minutes. Then he pushes the blanket down until it pools at his feet, until he can kick it off and kick himself off of bed. He stays at the foot of the cushion for a while, sitting still and surveying his surroundings. Chanyeol is curled up on his bed. The room is still dark. Sunrise isn't until 6 a.m.. He can feel the last dregs of fatigue spilling from his fingers onto the bedsheets as blood rushes to the tips of his fingers. As the last few traces of cold leave him and as warmth settles in. He coughs, sniffles, rubs his eyes and the drowsiness away. Then he stretches his arms overhead. It's normal enough a routine that he doesn't even realize he's already walking out of the room and down the hall until he hears something a few feet away.
He looks around him. Nobody ever gets up at five in the morning. It's exactly why he sets his alarm at five - so he can get some peace and quiet before the wave of noises in the form of nine other bodies settles in. The noise dies down after a while, though. He takes that as a sign to go on and resume his journey to the kitchen.
The silence dissipates after a while, replaced instead by a dull thud coming from nearby. He looks over his shoulder, to his sides. There's no sign of movement anywhere. He hears muffled voices soon after, coming from… the living room? Just outside the window? It's hard to tell. He hasn't even been awake for more than ten minutes yet. Straining his ears is a chore. Still, he yawns into the press of his hand to his mouth in an effort not to make any sound. Then the sound of the knob being twisted reaches his ears, makes a shiver crawl up his nape when he realizes where it's coming from.
He looks to his side and the knob moves.
Someone's in the bathroom.
A faint ssh, don't be- keep quiet-, then a low grunt in response. The voice sounds different, but sounds too close to the first voice Kyungsoo heard. He balls his hands into fists.
There are people in the bathroom.
He prepares to take a step back or forward, to walk as fast as he can to the kitchen or just dash, but to no avail. The door opens with a slick twist of the knob. Light filters from inside and hits Kyungsoo's eyes, blinds him for a split second. Then a familiar figure's slipping from the narrow opening of the door, stepping into Kyungsoo's personal space, bumping his shoulder. He looks up from where he's been staring at the knob but only catches the side profile of the man - fluffy hair, sleepy eyes, a mole just above his lip. Lips thin and pink and chapped. Eye bags the size of craters worn under his eyes like a natural extension of his features. He's seen this face before - in the same dorm, same company, opposite him in the recording booth. Right beside or behind him during performances. Choreography almost always puts them at the same side of the stage. So he whispers, "Baekhyun?" when he feels his tongue again, when the traitorous cold unwraps itself from his throat.
"Sorry," Baekhyun mumbles. His voice is low, scratchy, like he's been practicing too much and too long. Kyungsoo shrugs, takes another step back. This is normal.
Except it isn't, because there's another man stepping out of the bathroom who looks exactly like Baekhyun. The man's eyes widen and his lips fall open into a small 'o'. The man - this man who looks like the 'Baekhyun' Kyungsoo had just seen earlier - gasps. Kyungsoo swallows hard. It takes a good three seconds for Kyungsoo to think of looking at the other guy, to compare and contrast the features of these two Baekhyuns standing in front of him. Everything's the same from the crinkles at the corners of his eyes down to the mole north of his upper lip. It takes him another five to find the words to say, "There's two… of you." Baekhyun - both of them - shakes his head, looks at the other's mirror image, then looks back at Kyungsoo. He feels a jolt of electricity shoot up his spine, traveling to his temples as Baekhyun whispers, "Go." As the first Baekhyun looks over his shoulder before leaving, and as the second Baekhyun wraps his fingers around Kyungsoo's wrist.
"We are not talking about this," Baekhyun mutters, then drags him to the kitchen. His voice is scratchier, a bit pitchy. He sounds as if he's been running miles for the past hour. He hasn't. "You are drinking your coffee and I'll make pancakes and we won't talk about this," he continues. Then he presses his lips into a thin, thin line.
Kyungsoo gulps hard. Shrugs, because he's not yet awake for this. The grip on his wrist tightens like Baekhyun's reminding him of this agreement waiting for his sign off. So he mumbles, "Fine", and takes a deep breath, shaking off Baekhyun's hold on him. He walks over to where the coffee maker is, then, and resumes his morning routine.
Later, over breakfast, with eight other bodies crowding in on them, Baekhyun links their ankles under the dining table. It's as if he's asking, you don't break promises, right? I just had to make sure. You can't be too sure. For all of their training in SM, they've never been taught how to place complete trust in people. Believe that the weirdest possible thing like actually debuting with someone who has the ability to multiply is possible. So Kyungsoo looks up, meets Baekhyun's gaze, and addresses him with a nod. He takes a deep breath, holds all the air in his chest until he can feel his ears popping. When he looks to his side to cough and try to rid himself of the tickling sensation in his throat, Baekhyun pulls away with an easy smile.
From a corner of his eye, he sees Baekhyun staring. He keeps his eyes on his coffee and laughs at his reflection in the swirl of the black liquid: eyes wide open and lips trembling. Too calculated, awake, alive.
Comeback means insurmountable number of hours poured into one thing and one thing alone - practice. They're way past the recording stage, the tracks having been mastered weeks ago, but from time to time Kyungsoo winces at the sound of his own voice. He grimaces when he hears his tone get a bit too throaty just before Baekhyun's voice comes in. He sounded better in the demo, where his voice was velvety smooth and he wasn't too conscious of the number of takes it would take him to perfect his lines. He almost always sounds better on demo, without the pressure of having to be perfect weighing down on him, wrapping around his throat, giving it a tight squeeze.
"Let it go," Jongdae tells him, kicking his foot. Kyungsoo turns to his side. He doesn't bother to furrow his eyebrows in question; he's too tired for that. Instead, he tilts his head and nods in Jongdae's direction as if saying, go on, praise and please me. Jongdae's good with that, making people feel better even if, yes, he does agree to them being particularly shitty at that time. He just knows how to phrase his thoughts properly, in the best way possible. Like, "You can salvage yourself in the lives. They are making us sing life for comeback stage, after all," instead of, I know you sounded terrible in the final master but stop acting like a kid. Grow the fuck up.
Kyungsoo shrugs. Snorts. "Can't be too sure. The producers haven't forgotten Friday the 13th yet," he grumbles. Jongdae heaves a sigh and throws a light jab on his arm. It doesn't hurt a bit. It does jostle him out of fatigue, though. "What?"
"He's right, y'know," Baekhyun says, voice low and rough. He sounds like he's just come from running from Gwangju-si to Gangwon-do and then back. He hasn't. Traveling from being slumped against the door to where Kyungsoo is takes no more then ten steps. He slides next to Kyungsoo and holds out a hand, as if asking for a high five. Five days ago, this could've meant, I feel you, bro. We all make mistakes. Shit happens to the best of us. But after that incident that fine morning, after catching Baekhyun with a mirror image of himself in the bathroom, Kyungsoo isn't so sure how to read the gesture anymore. If things as strange as that can happen then maybe Baekhyun can electrocute him with a touch of his hand. So he stares at the outstretched hand, studies the lines on Baekhyun's palm. His skin is dry, cracking close to the webs of his fingers. And his hand is shaking. It's the same kind of shake Kyungsoo felt Baekhyun's fingers carve on his skin that night, when he found two of Baekhyun shuffled in the same room. "Hey, don't leave me hanging now-"
Kyungsoo shivers, jerks back. He blinks a few times. Baekhyun nudges him in his side, digs his elbow even deeper into Kyungsoo's gut like he's reminding Kyungsoo that he's still waiting for an answer. Kyungsoo relents after a while, giving Baekhyun's hand a light slap. No sparks, just the heat of Baekhyun's palm sticking to his own. The grin of Baekhyun's lips in blinding. "There, better."
None of this is better, though. It's been three years since they've debuted and their health situation isn't getting any better. Jongin's been complaining more about his back problem. Zitao fell again last night, during practice. Yixing hasn't been straining himself, but maybe that's because he can't test the limits of his body anymore. Joonmyun's been taking more calls from the management, reassuring the higher ups that EXO's doing fine, practice is and will always be exciting. Nobody's leaving. Three years in and they already have more scandals than SHINee has ever had. It's no surprise, though - the media's hyperaware of everything now, and virtually anyone can be an investigator. More badly put, a stalker. You can dig up someone's flight information and find out that they're heading to this location, just the two of them, via the internet. You can spread the information via the same channel, too. If, before, being an idol meant sharing a piece of yourself with the public, now it means opening yourself up, peeling off your layers for everyone to see. Shedding all your layers for everyone to see who you really are.
"One last round in ten minutes?" Joonmyun calls out from behind Baekhyun.
Chanyeol raises two thumbs up, then collapses on the floor. Jongin remains standing, still going through the routine but in smaller, more muted movements. "Gotta take this," Baekhyun says, fishing for his phone from his pocket and holding it up in the air. The screen isn't even blinking.
"Reception's bad in the fire exit!" Jongdae calls out. Chanyeol snickers like it's supposed to be funny. It isn't. Not to Kyungsoo. Not when he has an inkling of what might happen.
Kyungsoo slips from the room before the ten minutes elapse, saying he has to go to the bathroom. Chanyeol, ever helpful, tosses a pack of wipes in his direction because, "They ran out of tissue in there a few minutes ago. Some dude's probably taking a dump, took the whole ream or something. It smelled awful in there. Or maybe-" An exaggerated gasp, then, "-maybe someone killed somebody and he used the tissue to clean up the mess-" Chanyeol was watching some twisted sci-fi movie last night. He left it running until Kyungsoo was done with his shower. It was the exact same scenario Chanyeol was trying to replicate in real life. It would've been hilarious if Kyungsoo really didn't have to pee. So in reply, he sticks out his middle finger, hand raised over his shoulder until he steps out of the room. Chanyeol's fading laughter in a reminder of the distance between the practice room and everything else.
When they're in SM, preparing for a comeback, it feels as if they're in a different world. Much more toxic, the scent of sweat and tears thick and heavy in the room. It's almost sickening.
The bathroom is blessedly free from any trace of blood when Kyungsoo arrives. The last cubicle is occupied, so he takes the one in the middle, pulls down the seat cover before gripping the waistband of his pants. He's prepared to pull down his bottoms when a throaty groan fills the bathroom, bounces off its walls and rings in Kyungsoo's ears.
"Come on," says the voice. It sounds eerily familiar. "We don't have time-"
"You don't. I do," says a second voice. It sounds much like the first, except with more lilts. Less roughened by fatigue and more velvety, like Baekhyun had taken a shot of whiskey before belting out his lines in their new duet for the third album. "Just a bit more-"
Wet slapping sounds, a low grunt, then a thud against the door of the cubicle. "God-fucking-dammit-"
Kyungsoo leans forward, resting his forehead on the door. He closes his eyes.
Not this shit again.
This isn't the first time he's hearing anyone get off or fucking around with someone. An open secret in SM: almost everyone fucks with everybody during tours. Joonmyun gets around a lot, manages to lure girls into a stall or maybe backstage after a really great performance. "I can sing a lot of songs," is Joonmyun's standard pick up line; Jongin's is, "I… need help. Please?" It's almost normal to see someone backed against the wall that nobody minds anyone's business anymore during breaks. Idols need a form of release, somehow, something to get rid of the stress, and this is one of them. Once, Kyungsoo walked in on Sehun licking a stripe along Jongin's neck and sucking marks there. He was looking for Sunyoung then, meaning to practice his number with her, but instead he found Jongin rubbing up against Sehun. Sehun flashed him an amused glance and Kyungsoo took a step back at the first opportunity. Ten minutes after, Jongin emerged from the room with his top crumpled. Sehun's hair was a mess. Kyungsoo locked himself up in a cubicle as soon as he'd finished practicing with Sunyoung and touched himself, rubbed his thumb along the tent in his pants. Then Joonmyun came knocking on the door and said, "Kyungsoo? Kyungsoo! We're up in ten minutes."
Beat you to it, hyung, he wanted to say then. He didn't. Instead, he washed his hands and flicked water in his eyes. Asked the make up artists to retouch his eyeliner. Went up on stage and sang his heart out. Baekhyun, sensing the tremble in his voice, gripped him by the wrist and sang Kyungsoo's line in a faint, faint voice, just enough to cover the cracks in Kyungsoo's tone. Like he was saying, yeah, I feel you. And I can feel your pulse on my skin.
There's no Baekhyun to hold his hand right now, though, no Baekhyun to snap him back to reality because Baekhyun is elsewhere, two cubicles away. Kyungsoo can hear the rustling of clothes, can hear the slapping of skin on skin. Like someone patting the other's back except this isn't dance practice. And Baekhyun's a shitty dancer. He shivers all over when he hears a series of growls, groans. Gulps hard and digs his nails into his skin at the same time that Baekhyun lets out the most obscene moan. Get out, get out now while you can, a voice at the back of his mind says, but the sound gets drowned by Baekhyun's soft ah's, swallowed by Baekhyun's whimpers. It balls up into something that lodges itself in Kyungsoo's throat, keeps him from breathing properly and evenly. It sends a sizzle of heat straight down Kyungsoo's abdomen.
He takes a few quick breaths, matching that of Baekhyun's uneven breathing. "Jesus, fuck-" comes Baekhyun's choked voice, and that's what reels Kyungsoo back to reality, back to this moment where he's supposed to be looking for Baekhyun and not getting off to his voice.
He slams his fist into the door. Baekhyun's breath hitches a few feet away. "There's someone-" he begins, but his speech is soon cut off by a throaty moan, long and drawn out, like that's what does it for him: the knowledge that someone's watching, listening, that someone's getting off to the mere sound of his voice whittled down to these tiny whimpers and whispers.
A thick blanket of silence wraps around the room, fills its four corners with white noise and the occasional sound of heavy breathing. Kyungsoo can hear his own pulse at the back of his ears, can feel it behind his knees. In the warm and heavy reminder of arousal between his legs that twitches when the other door swings open, then shuts closed not too long after.
When Kyungsoo's well sure that Baekhyun is no longer in sight, he slips from the cubicle and splashes water on his face. It does little to keep him in check, does very little to still the warm thrum of arousal in his chest, but it does make his vision clearer than before. In the mirror, he sees two images: the wrecked look on his features, sweet and sickening, and the ghost of Baekhyun's bright smile hovering his shoulder.
(When he returns to the practice room, hair sticking up in several directions from when he'd mussed it up, Baekhyun cranes his neck and meets his eyes. There's an unspoken message somewhere there, in the tilt of Baekhyun's chin, scrawled on the giving slope of his neck. It's there in the way he holds Kyungsoo's gaze like he's saying, you didn't see what you saw earlier, didn't hear anything. You weren't supposed to know a thing. Kyungsoo's better with body language, so he drops his gaze, traces the column of Baekhyun's neck and fixes his eyes on the bloom of red on Baekhyun's skin.
Baekhyun adjusts his shirt, pulls it up by the collar. Kyungsoo adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his notes. Jongin counts to three and the music starts. Kyungsoo's body moves to the beat, like every verse is an extension of himself or a phantom limb he isn't even aware that he has. Every brush of his pants against his arousal stings. It's torture.
It's business as usual.)
Kyungsoo tilts his head up and lets the water from the shower prick his skin. The image of Baekhyun's stare still burns at the back of his eyelids, still burns and scores a line down his belly to send a funny tingle to the tip of his dick. They'd made eye contact again after practice, just before the van arrived. It could've meant, 'stall' or 'lemme know if we have to go already, then I'll try to cum- come as soon as possible'. They were still working out the details. What Kyungsoo was sure of, though, was this: he had immaculate timing. By the time Joonmyun looked over his shoulder to do a headcount, Baekhyun was back, not a hair out of place. Then Baekhyun sat right beside him in the van. Pressed thigh to thigh, there was very little that he could do when Baekhyun rested his head on his shoulder. So Kyungsoo let him. When Baekhyun scribbled 'thanks' on the back of his hand five minutes into the ride, Kyungsoo just snorted in response.
He laughs to himself now and presses his palms to his cheeks. He can still feel the sting of the characters Baekhyun had written on his skin, the figures Baekhyun doodled on his hand. He'd tried washing them off earlier, but to no avail. He'd just ended up with the skin on his knuckles white and dry.
He reaches for the soap and tries rubbing it off again. Still no luck.
There's a reason why he'd let the others shower ahead of him: it's hard to get off on the other side of the door knowing that there's someone's leaning against the wall, waiting for his turn. Knowing that someone might catch him. He can't be the first person to get off to the image of his fellow member, his friend on his knees and sucking him off, though. He can't be the only one cursed with the gift of photographic memory so crisp and clear that he can even hear the sounds Baekhyun would make if he thrust too hard into Baekhyun's face, fucked his mouth just so.
But he's the only one who knows about the other Baekhyun. Baekhyun - the one whose voice he's been dancing to for the past three years already - said so earlier, in the van, with his lips pressed to the back of Kyungsoo's ear. "It's a secret. Our little secret," Baekhyun had whispered. Their knuckles brushed against each other. Baekhyun jerked back, like he wasn't accustomed to anyone else but his double touching him. Kyungsoo shrugged his shoulders and said, "Not my secret to tell." He felt Baekhyun's muscles relax after that, the tight knot of tension on the corners of Baekhyun's mouth relaxing against Kyungsoo's cheek.
He feels the ghost of a hand slither around his waist, wrap around him like a quilt and drape on his shoulders. His chest tightens. The warmth travels from the tips of his fingers down to his toes, making them curl-
"Yah, Kyungsoo-" Three knocks on the door, unevenly spaced out. Kyungsoo jerks back, his entire body shivering under the spray. This isn't Baekhyun. This isn't an illusion. This is Chanyeol reeling him back to the surface, like a harsh splash of water to his face. "Hey man, you alive in there? Did the toilet swallow you whole or something?"
"I'll be out in a few," he replies. He tucks his chin, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. He feels nothing but the slide of the strands against his skin, carving narrow slits along the length of his fingers. The soap's long been washed away by the water. "Five minutes," he promises.
"Cool," says Chanyeol on the other side of the door. "Want coffee?"
"Hot choco."
"Or tea- O... kay."
"Thanks," Kyungsoo mutters. He leaves it up to years of knowing each other to amplify the sound of his voice, magnify it tenfold. He tilts his head up again. His bangs stick to his face, slipping between the narrow gaps in his eyebrows. He brushes his hair away, then, and turns off the shower all the way. He doesn't leave until he sees the last drop of water fall to the trap, until he feels his hands again. Then he reaches for his towel, wraps it around his waist tight. Before stepping out of the bathroom, he doubles the knot, makes sure his towel won't come off. He can't take risks. He can't let his guard down.
He can't let himself down.
With only a few weeks left until the start of promotions, the practices start to stretch for longer hours. Minseok's been massaging his knees more, or at least whenever he can. Zitao stretches his back during the small windows of time when they can breathe. Jongin's complaints have dwindled to tiny whimpers, but that isn't to say that the pain's more bearable. It isn't. Kyungsoo has seen Jongin making occasional trips to his physical therapist. He's seen Jongin taking medication for the pain. Once, during breakfast, Jongin went into a fit of panic because he couldn't find his pillbox. So when Sehun dangled it in front of him, he snatched the box right away and kicked Sehun in the calf.
"Not funny," Jongin mumbled. These days, it translates to: this pain is fucking killing me. Someone call the doctor. "Really not funny. Let's see you feel the same thing and-"
"Okay, okay. Enough," Joonmyun interrupted. He shot them a stern look, then blinked at his food like he was trying to recall what he'd been doing before reprimanding the two. Two seats away, Kyungsoo tried picking the seaweed in his soup with his chopsticks, but his hands wouldn't stop shaking. It's the same shit day in and day out, three months before comeback. It was still worse prior to debut, though. So all in all, they're better off now.
He grips his bicep tight now, trying to massage it. His hands haven't stilled yet. The press of his palm is warm, though, a bit comforting, but just as soon as the tension in his limbs dissipates, his throat clenches. He can taste acid in the roof of his mouth. The last meal he's - they - had was breakfast, seven in the morning. The coffee was good, but caffeine unwraps itself from the drinker's body six hours after it's been consumed. And it's already five in the afternoon. They've all just been taking water ever since, too caught up in the desire to perfect the routine before they let their guards down and slack off. Jongin might have munched on a cracker or two, but he needs it for his medication. And they need Jongin in this team.
"Fuck-" Joonmyun huffs, throws his hands in the air at the same time that he groans. "Okay. Break time. Fifteen minutes!" he says in surrender. Chanyeol lets out the most unabashed 'yay!' and collapses on the floor. It sounds more like a llama drowning than anything else. "Just fifteen minutes, okay? After that, we run through the steps one last time-"
"And try to get things right once and for all. Yada yada yada." Yixing sinks to his knees, then lies on his stomach on the floor. He's more vocal when tired but, then again, who isn't? Yixing's patience and control isn't as immeasurable as most people think. He's human, too. "I feel like I'm practicing for fifty comebacks. Everything hurts."
Including your heart? Kyungsoo hears someone ask. Probably Zitao. Only he would have enough energy to joke around after too many runs of their routine. He snorts. "Last time, you said you felt like you were practicing for a hundred."
"A thousand," Baekhyun corrects. He looks around, then turns to Joonmyun to ask, "Can I pee?"
Joonmyun rolls his eyes. "Do whatever you want. Just come back in fifteen minutes. No extensions."
Baekhyun sneaks a glance at Kyungsoo before going on his way. Kyungsoo feels the hair at the back of his nape stand. He shakes that off, cracks his neck and pulls his knees closer to his chest. Fifteen minutes is enough for a nap.
He doesn't get to, though, because Chanyeol starts poking him in his side so he could extend his legs in front of him. So Chanyeol could use his 'squishy legs' as a cushion. There's no use trying to fight it, so Kyungsoo gives in and allows Chanyeol to offer him silence as a 'thank you'. It's enough to soothe the tension in his nerves, his muscles, to make his stomach stop lurching long enough to last until the last practice session before they call it a day. He threads his fingers through Chanyeol's hair, twirls a couple of strands in his fingers until Chanyeol's humming in his sleep. He rouses ten minutes after, unfolding from the curl of his body and burying his nose in the shallow groove between Kyungsoo's knees.
"You smell like shit," Chanyeol groans. He rubs the tip of his nose against Kyungsoo's jeans. Kyungsoo isn't sure yet what Chanyeol's trying to achieve, but whatever - he's too tired to figure this out. "Did you fart?"
From a corner of his eye, he sees Joonmyun shaking his head. "I can, now," Kyungsoo replies, then, standing from where he's been seated on the floor and squeezing his thighs. The rush of blood makes him shiver, almost makes him topple over when his blood reaches his calves. It makes the pulse at the back of his knees throb in heavy beats.
"Do it."
"Like hell, I would."
"All bark, no bite," Chanyeol says, sticking out his tongue.
Kyungsoo does a chomping gesture with his teeth. Chanyeol only laughs in response. A few feet away, Jongin asks, "Where's Baekhyun-hyung? He asked me to teach him how to land nicely after doing a pirouette."
Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. "I'll fetch the dog," he mutters. He draws his shoulders back. The dull 'popping' of his bones feels more like a go signal than a sign to take a break. "Be back in five."
Joonmyun waves him off and closes his eyes again in response.
He checks the bathroom first, swinging the door as quietly as possible so as to not startle anyone. The scent of lime and ocean water greets him. There's none of the thick scent of sex in the air, no closed doors or heavy breathing filling the four corners of the room. His reflection in the mirror glares at him, studies him from head to toe. There's no silhouette of Baekhyun over his shoulder this time, no other Baekhyun to make him turn around and do a double take. Make sure he isn't just imagining things. He feels a familiar sizzle crawl down his stomach, and he shakes it off even before it can make his insides turn. Even before the tingling sensation can reach his toes and make them curl.
He blinks a few times, cups his hands under the tap so he can splash water on his face. Reality, he tells himself. This is reality. It's just him here. He needs to find Baekhyun, on Joonmyun's 'orders'.
He checks the rooftop next, remembering how they used to share a stick up there between recordings in an attempt to calm their stomachs from growling. They were too young then, just a few months shy of debuting. They were naive, a bit foolish. They were irrelevant. Even if they went to Hongdae to get ass drunk or wasted, no one would recognize them, so it was okay to puff one stick after another in the open air. It's nice having that leisure and not having to be hyperaware of everything all the time. Nowadays, they can't even leave the SM building through the back door without having to check if someone's waiting to snap pictures at them outside.
He swings the door to the rooftop open. No Baekhyun in sight here, as well, not even a shadow of him. The air here is cool and fresh and clean. This isn't the air they're breathing back in the practice room, or even in the booth during recordings.
Closed spaces, a voice at the back of his mind says. He takes a different flight of stairs back down, takes one last deep breath of the air out here before heading back inside. He knows exactly where to find Baekhyun.
The fire exit isn't the most comfortable of places to be in. It's hot and humid here, and the air is so thin that Kyungsoo feels his chest constrict three floors in. His threadbare shirt sticks to his back, just along the column of his spine. He can feel the growing cold on the waistband of his pants, sweat from hours of practice collecting on it. Walking into a cold room is a disaster waiting to happen so he stays here, continues his journey south despite aching knees.
He grips the railing with his left hand and the area just above his knee with his right. Two more floors until he gets back to where he started. Two more floors until his limbs give up and out on him.
He lets out a breathy exhale when he catches sight of a tuft of hair from the railings. Baekhyun's voice is low, laboured, but it echoes in the fire exit nonetheless. Gets amplified with every step forward that Kyungsoo takes. Soon, he's seeing another body, hunched in the same manner that Baekhyun is - knees pulled close to his chest, chin rested on them. Bottom lip jutted out and eyebrows in a startlingly straight line even as one of them whispers, "This is tiring."
One of them looks up. This Baekhyun's hair is more messed up, bangs clumped together at the tips because of sweat and oil. Kyungsoo gulps hard. "So they sent a search party for me. How cute," this Baekhyun says, but it sounds strange, almost different. Almost like Kyungsoo doesn't know this voice, like he hasn't been practicing alongside Baekhyun for years. Hasn't been singing to his voice or sleeping to the cracks of it. "Or did you decide to go out on your own?" he continues to ask.
Kyungsoo runs a hand through his hair, grabs a fistful and pulls his hair back. He feels a pinch of pain in his scalp. There are still two Baekhyuns here. "Yeah. I- Well, Joonmyun-hyung was looking for you. Fifteen minutes is over." He drops his gaze to Baekhyun's wrist. He's wearing a wristwatch. Baekhyun hates wearing watches. He shifts his gaze to the other Baekhyun, then, craning his neck to check if he's wearing a band on his wrist. There's nothing there but the glow of fingernail scratches. This is Baekhyun."You can't keep disappearing on us during breaks. Pretty soon, they'll think-"
"I won't do it. I'm not leaving." Baekhyun number two scratches the slope of his neck, rolls his eyes. Growls, except he sounds more like a cat in a lion's costume, mewling again and again. "I just need time alone."
Kyungsoo snorts. Two bodies pressed thigh to thigh in a stairwell is hardly 'alone'. Two bodies sliding against each other in the van, at the very back where it's darkest and they have the leisure of doing anything and everything, isn't 'alone'.
A pregnant pause, then Baekhyun adds, "With myself, I mean. Sort out my shit. Calm down the voices in my head. It's that time of the year again." His shadow laughs a little, nudges him in his side with his elbow. Baekhyun doesn't flinch, but he does rub the underside of his nose. He looks up at Kyungsoo to meet his gaze after a while. A familiar tingle crawls from the back of Kyungsoo's knees down to his ankle. He loses the feeling in his legs for a moment, but it's back as soon as Baekhyun reaches out, as soon as Baekhyun curls his fingers at the cuffs of Kyungsoo's track pants. "They're too noisy."
Baekhyun means, I can't stop thinking about every single thing. Can't stop overanalyzing and being too self-aware, self-conscious. It's the same virus that consumed them before debut, during those six long months when they did nothing but practice how to make people fall in love with them with a coy smile. It's the same virus that nibbled on Kyungsoo's fingers when he accidentally dropped the microphone during a performance. He'd be traumatized by the event after that, scarred forever by the horrified expression on fans' faces. Those were the culprits, sickness and fatigue. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with. They were indestructible.
Alone, being sick of this routine was a sneaky little virus that ate people from the inside. Like a common cold left unattended for too long. A tiny vessel of 'Baekhyun' in Kyungsoo that blooms everytime Baekhyun's voice cracks or whenever he goes pitchy, like every misstep of Baekhyun's is an extension of Kyungsoo's failures. They are part of the same team, after all, part of the unofficial sub-unit called 'when all else fails, when the other members screw up, sing their parts as well.' EXO's caped crusaders when the burden of vocals is too much for Jongdae to bear.
Kyungsoo heaves a sigh. He looks at Baekhyun's fingers, then lifts his gaze to meet Baekhyuns' own. "Then make them shut up."
Both Baekhyuns laugh. One sounds more alive than the other. The twitch of the corners of Baekhyun's - the one he was talking to earlier - mouth is so subtle, barely there. He's the one with the rougher voice, more drenched in fatigue. "I think you know that I'm not good with the shutting up thing."
"Then practice."
"I'm tired of practicing."
"We're all tired," Kyungsoo grumbles. "But that doesn't mean you can just give up and hide wherever and expect us not to get any weird ideas."
Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow. He parts his lips like he's about to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, he blows at his bangs and yawns, open-mouthed, unabashed. "Weird ideas, huh?" he says after a while, seconds after the silence begins to ease in. Kyungsoo's body gives a tiny jerk. It feels as if he's just snapped his neck or something. "What sort of weird ideas?"
The type where someone leaves the group again - that's Joonmyun's greatest fear at the moment. Yifan and Lu Han's departure from the group didn't mean cutting ties with them completely. It just meant being more creative with finding ways to contact them, capitalizing on the small windows of opportunity to keep in touch. Yifan still listens to EXO's music and sobs a little whenever he hears Don't Go. Lu Han still steals Minseok and Sehun from noraebang plans to play soccer with them. They still enjoy samgyupsal as a group of twelve from time to time. The biggest difference lay in the image they had to portray, the hatred they had to harbor in their hearts everytime they went on screen. Every guest appearance was like giving the media opportunity to break the group up one talk show at a time. And every single time, they had to relive the feeling of uncertainty at the back of their minds like a dull ache they've never been able to get rid of.
And then there's Baekhyun being driven to tipping or breaking point, Baekhyun cracking under the pressure and losing his mind. EXO losing one vocalist after another and those talents losing their voice due to overwork. Their career going down the fucking drain without a chance of being ever revived. The rest of the group falling into the same pit of despair because 'we are one'. It's a silly slogan, but nothing quite captures the essence of their friendship like those three words. And EXO-L actually means EXO-Link, not Love.
"All sorts of weird ideas," Kyungsoo answers, instead. He holds Baekhyun's gaze longer, trying to look for an opening. At the slightest movement of Baekhyun's eyebrows, Kyungsoo gestures at the other Baekhyun beside him. He doesn't even get to finish, because soon Baekhyun is rolling his eyes and grinning and letting slip tiny bursts of laughter from his lips. "And ideas turned reality."
"He's both real and unreal. He's got a part of me in him," Baekhyun says, like he's talking about a real person, someone they've worked with in those three years that they've been promoting SM's songs as a group. He isn't. He's talking about this shadow of a person right beside him, the contours of his features fading out into tiny wisps. "He's just not as awesome as I am."
Kyungsoo laughs a little. Baekhyun's shaking his head now, his mouth twisting into a small, incredulous smile. It's as if he's saying, what the hell am I thinking? What did I really want to achieve? How can I still be me when part of me is with this other person beside me? He seems to struggle articulating that, so Kyungsoo echoes the sentiment for him, saying, "But he came from you. He can neither be better nor worse." He can feel light laughter bubbling on his lips, tickling his throat. He half scoffs, half snorts. The lines of tension on Baekhyun's forehead ease into a smooth plain. "It's as good as it gets."
As good as it gets means Baekhyun working hard and working other people harder. Rallying everyone to do their very best so that he won't have to pick up after someone's shit. Often, Baekhyun kids about being the hero, saving the faces of people whose voices crack at the most inopportune times, but after that incident where he went flat on live TV, the teasing dwindled to just sprouts of jokes. They were guests in a reality show that time, a comedy one. Baekhyun managed to turn that humiliating experience into the best joke of the year. The best comeback, as well, when he blew people away after his second performance. Still, Kyungsoo can't forget the look of horror in Baekhyun's features, his wide eyes, the tiny 'o' of his mouth. The way his fingers trembled on Kyungsoo's thigh and the way he almost hit Kyungsoo in the face with his fist when he nailed the high note in his comeback.
"You're not so bad," Kyungsoo says after a while, voice dropping down to a whisper.
Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him, challenging, but the corners of his mouth are quirked up. "Eh. I still have a lot to work on," is Baekhyun's response, the low volume of his voice rivaling that of Kyungsoo's. He locks his arms in front of him, stretching, but it looks more like him burying his face between his arms in an effort to not bare all his teeth at Kyungsoo in glee. It's there in the violent upward tug on his cheeks, in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he resurfaces. It's there in the warm flush coloring his cheeks. None of that shared resource of breathing air and blood between him and the shadow anymore.
He returns his hand to where it's been tugging on a leg of Kyungsoo's pants. Kyungsoo doesn't pay much notice to it, or at least he doesn't it show. "So come back to the practice room with me," he says after a while. It sounds like a plea. It isn't. It's a directive. He clears his throat. "There are people waiting."
Baekhyun holds his gaze for a moment, then looks down at this shoes. Kyungsoo cranes his neck and almost snorts when he sees Baekhyun's dirtied up Keds, his favorite pair even before they debuted. They're worn out, the tips of the shoes almost torn and tattered, but then it's been years. Anything that's been abused this much really will come out like it's been through the worst shitstorm ever. He hears a dull 'pop', then, and feels his entire body jerk. The figure beside Baekhyun dissipates into wisps of black, purified by the light filtering from wherever and making it disappear. Baekhyun looks more alive, though, lips a nice shade of red and cheeks tinted with a bit of pink. His back is no longer hunched, shoulders no longer slumped. His eyes are focused and discerning and asking, did you wait with the rest of the group?
Baekhyun unfurls his fingers from the tight fist on the cuff of Kyungsoo's pants. He drops his hand to his side, then says, "Right. Before hyung throws a fit."
"Right," Kyungsoo echoes, then extends a hand in Baekhyun's direction. Baekhyun looks up at him, just stares at him with an eyebrow cocked in question. Here he is again, reminding Kyungsoo that he's waiting for an answer, a tiny jerk of the body, the slightest gesture that can be a response to what he asked earlier. So Kyungsoo says, "Don't make me wait," shakes his hand a little like waving it in front of Baekhyun's eyes will snap Baekhyun out of his reverie.
Baekhyun slips his fingers between Kyungsoo's own. His palm is rough, callous. The fit of their hands is warm. It makes Kyungsoo shiver.
It makes his insides turn again, and again, and again.
"I can summon him at will when I'm sad. Or just not feeling well," Baekhyun explains one time, when Kyungsoo finds him at the rooftop during lunch. "I just have to say, 'hey Byun', and poof!"
Baekhyun makes this weird sort of gesture with his hands, brandishing them in the air. He even puffs his cheeks and purses his lips as if in concentration, as if he's really summoning his other self just by mentioning the key phrase. And it would've been funny if nothing happened and they ended up staring at emptiness, really, because how the hell does that happen? You don't just think of something and expect it to materialize in front of you. Kyungsoo presses his lips thinly together, then, trying hard not to laugh, but- Poof! The other Baekhyun appears, wisps of white weaving into something more solid. It's as if he's a genie who's just been summoned by his master, a master who looks strangely like him.
Kyungsoo feels his throat go dry. He parts his lips a little, presses them together again when the words escape him. Baekhyun's grinning at him as if saying, hah, you non-believer. He gulps hard.
"And he stays there for as long as he likes," he continues. He sways from side to side, tilting his head like a kid who's just won a bet. "Pretty cool, huh?"
"No?" Kyungsoo answers, earnest. He furrows his eyebrows. "And then what?"
Baekhyun hums, taking a deep breath as he leans back against the railing. He eyes Baekhyun - the other one, the real one - from head to toe, or at least until the other Baekhyun traps him against the steel bars, hands on either side of him. He shakes his head, slow and deliberate, then holds the other Baekhyun's gaze. He watches the subtle rise of Baekhyun's eyebrows, the slow rise and fall of the other Baekhyun's chest as he nods, each repetition three seconds from each other. It's as if there's a conversation going on, spoken through the language of quirks, the tiniest shift of facial muscles. And it feels like intruding. Kyungsoo feels a traitorous cold wrap around his throat, then sink to the bottom of his stomach. He feels it bloom inside him, making him shiver all over.
Then Baekhyun jerks back, shoulders hitting the railing. He lets out a low scowl. "Then he keeps me company," Baekhyun finally answers. He hasn't looked away from the other Baekhyun yet, hasn't lowered the raised eyebrow or pressed his lips together in a dangerously thin line. "However I want him to, for however long I want to keep him around."
That's sickening, that's sick, Kyungsoo wants to say, but Baekhyun doesn't seem to mind the whole arrangement. And the other Baekhyun is studying him, like Baekhyun - the real one, the one who's mouthing 'go' then cocking his head in Kyungsoo's direction - is the most interesting thing ever. Like he's the unexpected outcome of a science experiment, the biggest shock of the century. Kyungsoo can see it now, the headlines on broadsheets if this ever makes the news: 'Byun Baekhyun finds completion in... himself?' The subheading can be, '"I like myself a lot," EXO's Baekhyun confesses'. Kyungsoo will never admit to writing that article.
The other Baekhyun inches farther away from Baekhyun until he's hitting the wall. There's a good foot and a half between both Baekhyuns now, just enough space for Kyungsoo to slip into. Baekhyun gestures at him, then, and says, "C'mere, I don't bite."
Yeah, you just fuck yourself in a bathroom stall during breaks. Kyungsoo snorts, keeps his mouth shuts and just nods. Pretends that the whole arrangement makes sense. At least Baekhyun's voice hasn't crack yet despite the endless hours of practice and his dancing hasn't declined from passable to laughable. He sits next to Baekhyun, then, and looks the other way, studying the features of the other Baekhyun to his right.
A funny shiver crawls up his spine, makes his breath hitch. They have the same smile, the same glint in the eyes. And when they reach out to pinch his cheeks, Kyungsoo isn't able to tell the difference.
one | two
- Baekhyun/Baekhyun + Kyungsoo, eventual Baekhyun/Kyungsoo. NC-17. 16000 words.
- "prepare for trouble," baekhyun said. "and make it double," baekhyun - the other baekhyun - added.
- march 8, white day advent calendar, for drankcontrast. also on dreamwidth and AO3.
- this was the first one i ever finished in the white day advent calendar, but there will be another fic (or a couple) posted on the last friday of the month!
- a kind artist drew something for this fic HERE! please show her lots of love ♥
Kyungsoo has never experienced a stranger Monday his entire life.
It starts off relatively normal: he gets up ten minutes before the alarm goes off, but remains slumped against the headboard for another five minutes. Then he pushes the blanket down until it pools at his feet, until he can kick it off and kick himself off of bed. He stays at the foot of the cushion for a while, sitting still and surveying his surroundings. Chanyeol is curled up on his bed. The room is still dark. Sunrise isn't until 6 a.m.. He can feel the last dregs of fatigue spilling from his fingers onto the bedsheets as blood rushes to the tips of his fingers. As the last few traces of cold leave him and as warmth settles in. He coughs, sniffles, rubs his eyes and the drowsiness away. Then he stretches his arms overhead. It's normal enough a routine that he doesn't even realize he's already walking out of the room and down the hall until he hears something a few feet away.
He looks around him. Nobody ever gets up at five in the morning. It's exactly why he sets his alarm at five - so he can get some peace and quiet before the wave of noises in the form of nine other bodies settles in. The noise dies down after a while, though. He takes that as a sign to go on and resume his journey to the kitchen.
The silence dissipates after a while, replaced instead by a dull thud coming from nearby. He looks over his shoulder, to his sides. There's no sign of movement anywhere. He hears muffled voices soon after, coming from… the living room? Just outside the window? It's hard to tell. He hasn't even been awake for more than ten minutes yet. Straining his ears is a chore. Still, he yawns into the press of his hand to his mouth in an effort not to make any sound. Then the sound of the knob being twisted reaches his ears, makes a shiver crawl up his nape when he realizes where it's coming from.
He looks to his side and the knob moves.
Someone's in the bathroom.
A faint ssh, don't be- keep quiet-, then a low grunt in response. The voice sounds different, but sounds too close to the first voice Kyungsoo heard. He balls his hands into fists.
There are people in the bathroom.
He prepares to take a step back or forward, to walk as fast as he can to the kitchen or just dash, but to no avail. The door opens with a slick twist of the knob. Light filters from inside and hits Kyungsoo's eyes, blinds him for a split second. Then a familiar figure's slipping from the narrow opening of the door, stepping into Kyungsoo's personal space, bumping his shoulder. He looks up from where he's been staring at the knob but only catches the side profile of the man - fluffy hair, sleepy eyes, a mole just above his lip. Lips thin and pink and chapped. Eye bags the size of craters worn under his eyes like a natural extension of his features. He's seen this face before - in the same dorm, same company, opposite him in the recording booth. Right beside or behind him during performances. Choreography almost always puts them at the same side of the stage. So he whispers, "Baekhyun?" when he feels his tongue again, when the traitorous cold unwraps itself from his throat.
"Sorry," Baekhyun mumbles. His voice is low, scratchy, like he's been practicing too much and too long. Kyungsoo shrugs, takes another step back. This is normal.
Except it isn't, because there's another man stepping out of the bathroom who looks exactly like Baekhyun. The man's eyes widen and his lips fall open into a small 'o'. The man - this man who looks like the 'Baekhyun' Kyungsoo had just seen earlier - gasps. Kyungsoo swallows hard. It takes a good three seconds for Kyungsoo to think of looking at the other guy, to compare and contrast the features of these two Baekhyuns standing in front of him. Everything's the same from the crinkles at the corners of his eyes down to the mole north of his upper lip. It takes him another five to find the words to say, "There's two… of you." Baekhyun - both of them - shakes his head, looks at the other's mirror image, then looks back at Kyungsoo. He feels a jolt of electricity shoot up his spine, traveling to his temples as Baekhyun whispers, "Go." As the first Baekhyun looks over his shoulder before leaving, and as the second Baekhyun wraps his fingers around Kyungsoo's wrist.
"We are not talking about this," Baekhyun mutters, then drags him to the kitchen. His voice is scratchier, a bit pitchy. He sounds as if he's been running miles for the past hour. He hasn't. "You are drinking your coffee and I'll make pancakes and we won't talk about this," he continues. Then he presses his lips into a thin, thin line.
Kyungsoo gulps hard. Shrugs, because he's not yet awake for this. The grip on his wrist tightens like Baekhyun's reminding him of this agreement waiting for his sign off. So he mumbles, "Fine", and takes a deep breath, shaking off Baekhyun's hold on him. He walks over to where the coffee maker is, then, and resumes his morning routine.
Later, over breakfast, with eight other bodies crowding in on them, Baekhyun links their ankles under the dining table. It's as if he's asking, you don't break promises, right? I just had to make sure. You can't be too sure. For all of their training in SM, they've never been taught how to place complete trust in people. Believe that the weirdest possible thing like actually debuting with someone who has the ability to multiply is possible. So Kyungsoo looks up, meets Baekhyun's gaze, and addresses him with a nod. He takes a deep breath, holds all the air in his chest until he can feel his ears popping. When he looks to his side to cough and try to rid himself of the tickling sensation in his throat, Baekhyun pulls away with an easy smile.
From a corner of his eye, he sees Baekhyun staring. He keeps his eyes on his coffee and laughs at his reflection in the swirl of the black liquid: eyes wide open and lips trembling. Too calculated, awake, alive.
Comeback means insurmountable number of hours poured into one thing and one thing alone - practice. They're way past the recording stage, the tracks having been mastered weeks ago, but from time to time Kyungsoo winces at the sound of his own voice. He grimaces when he hears his tone get a bit too throaty just before Baekhyun's voice comes in. He sounded better in the demo, where his voice was velvety smooth and he wasn't too conscious of the number of takes it would take him to perfect his lines. He almost always sounds better on demo, without the pressure of having to be perfect weighing down on him, wrapping around his throat, giving it a tight squeeze.
"Let it go," Jongdae tells him, kicking his foot. Kyungsoo turns to his side. He doesn't bother to furrow his eyebrows in question; he's too tired for that. Instead, he tilts his head and nods in Jongdae's direction as if saying, go on, praise and please me. Jongdae's good with that, making people feel better even if, yes, he does agree to them being particularly shitty at that time. He just knows how to phrase his thoughts properly, in the best way possible. Like, "You can salvage yourself in the lives. They are making us sing life for comeback stage, after all," instead of, I know you sounded terrible in the final master but stop acting like a kid. Grow the fuck up.
Kyungsoo shrugs. Snorts. "Can't be too sure. The producers haven't forgotten Friday the 13th yet," he grumbles. Jongdae heaves a sigh and throws a light jab on his arm. It doesn't hurt a bit. It does jostle him out of fatigue, though. "What?"
"He's right, y'know," Baekhyun says, voice low and rough. He sounds like he's just come from running from Gwangju-si to Gangwon-do and then back. He hasn't. Traveling from being slumped against the door to where Kyungsoo is takes no more then ten steps. He slides next to Kyungsoo and holds out a hand, as if asking for a high five. Five days ago, this could've meant, I feel you, bro. We all make mistakes. Shit happens to the best of us. But after that incident that fine morning, after catching Baekhyun with a mirror image of himself in the bathroom, Kyungsoo isn't so sure how to read the gesture anymore. If things as strange as that can happen then maybe Baekhyun can electrocute him with a touch of his hand. So he stares at the outstretched hand, studies the lines on Baekhyun's palm. His skin is dry, cracking close to the webs of his fingers. And his hand is shaking. It's the same kind of shake Kyungsoo felt Baekhyun's fingers carve on his skin that night, when he found two of Baekhyun shuffled in the same room. "Hey, don't leave me hanging now-"
Kyungsoo shivers, jerks back. He blinks a few times. Baekhyun nudges him in his side, digs his elbow even deeper into Kyungsoo's gut like he's reminding Kyungsoo that he's still waiting for an answer. Kyungsoo relents after a while, giving Baekhyun's hand a light slap. No sparks, just the heat of Baekhyun's palm sticking to his own. The grin of Baekhyun's lips in blinding. "There, better."
None of this is better, though. It's been three years since they've debuted and their health situation isn't getting any better. Jongin's been complaining more about his back problem. Zitao fell again last night, during practice. Yixing hasn't been straining himself, but maybe that's because he can't test the limits of his body anymore. Joonmyun's been taking more calls from the management, reassuring the higher ups that EXO's doing fine, practice is and will always be exciting. Nobody's leaving. Three years in and they already have more scandals than SHINee has ever had. It's no surprise, though - the media's hyperaware of everything now, and virtually anyone can be an investigator. More badly put, a stalker. You can dig up someone's flight information and find out that they're heading to this location, just the two of them, via the internet. You can spread the information via the same channel, too. If, before, being an idol meant sharing a piece of yourself with the public, now it means opening yourself up, peeling off your layers for everyone to see. Shedding all your layers for everyone to see who you really are.
"One last round in ten minutes?" Joonmyun calls out from behind Baekhyun.
Chanyeol raises two thumbs up, then collapses on the floor. Jongin remains standing, still going through the routine but in smaller, more muted movements. "Gotta take this," Baekhyun says, fishing for his phone from his pocket and holding it up in the air. The screen isn't even blinking.
"Reception's bad in the fire exit!" Jongdae calls out. Chanyeol snickers like it's supposed to be funny. It isn't. Not to Kyungsoo. Not when he has an inkling of what might happen.
Kyungsoo slips from the room before the ten minutes elapse, saying he has to go to the bathroom. Chanyeol, ever helpful, tosses a pack of wipes in his direction because, "They ran out of tissue in there a few minutes ago. Some dude's probably taking a dump, took the whole ream or something. It smelled awful in there. Or maybe-" An exaggerated gasp, then, "-maybe someone killed somebody and he used the tissue to clean up the mess-" Chanyeol was watching some twisted sci-fi movie last night. He left it running until Kyungsoo was done with his shower. It was the exact same scenario Chanyeol was trying to replicate in real life. It would've been hilarious if Kyungsoo really didn't have to pee. So in reply, he sticks out his middle finger, hand raised over his shoulder until he steps out of the room. Chanyeol's fading laughter in a reminder of the distance between the practice room and everything else.
When they're in SM, preparing for a comeback, it feels as if they're in a different world. Much more toxic, the scent of sweat and tears thick and heavy in the room. It's almost sickening.
The bathroom is blessedly free from any trace of blood when Kyungsoo arrives. The last cubicle is occupied, so he takes the one in the middle, pulls down the seat cover before gripping the waistband of his pants. He's prepared to pull down his bottoms when a throaty groan fills the bathroom, bounces off its walls and rings in Kyungsoo's ears.
"Come on," says the voice. It sounds eerily familiar. "We don't have time-"
"You don't. I do," says a second voice. It sounds much like the first, except with more lilts. Less roughened by fatigue and more velvety, like Baekhyun had taken a shot of whiskey before belting out his lines in their new duet for the third album. "Just a bit more-"
Wet slapping sounds, a low grunt, then a thud against the door of the cubicle. "God-fucking-dammit-"
Kyungsoo leans forward, resting his forehead on the door. He closes his eyes.
Not this shit again.
This isn't the first time he's hearing anyone get off or fucking around with someone. An open secret in SM: almost everyone fucks with everybody during tours. Joonmyun gets around a lot, manages to lure girls into a stall or maybe backstage after a really great performance. "I can sing a lot of songs," is Joonmyun's standard pick up line; Jongin's is, "I… need help. Please?" It's almost normal to see someone backed against the wall that nobody minds anyone's business anymore during breaks. Idols need a form of release, somehow, something to get rid of the stress, and this is one of them. Once, Kyungsoo walked in on Sehun licking a stripe along Jongin's neck and sucking marks there. He was looking for Sunyoung then, meaning to practice his number with her, but instead he found Jongin rubbing up against Sehun. Sehun flashed him an amused glance and Kyungsoo took a step back at the first opportunity. Ten minutes after, Jongin emerged from the room with his top crumpled. Sehun's hair was a mess. Kyungsoo locked himself up in a cubicle as soon as he'd finished practicing with Sunyoung and touched himself, rubbed his thumb along the tent in his pants. Then Joonmyun came knocking on the door and said, "Kyungsoo? Kyungsoo! We're up in ten minutes."
Beat you to it, hyung, he wanted to say then. He didn't. Instead, he washed his hands and flicked water in his eyes. Asked the make up artists to retouch his eyeliner. Went up on stage and sang his heart out. Baekhyun, sensing the tremble in his voice, gripped him by the wrist and sang Kyungsoo's line in a faint, faint voice, just enough to cover the cracks in Kyungsoo's tone. Like he was saying, yeah, I feel you. And I can feel your pulse on my skin.
There's no Baekhyun to hold his hand right now, though, no Baekhyun to snap him back to reality because Baekhyun is elsewhere, two cubicles away. Kyungsoo can hear the rustling of clothes, can hear the slapping of skin on skin. Like someone patting the other's back except this isn't dance practice. And Baekhyun's a shitty dancer. He shivers all over when he hears a series of growls, groans. Gulps hard and digs his nails into his skin at the same time that Baekhyun lets out the most obscene moan. Get out, get out now while you can, a voice at the back of his mind says, but the sound gets drowned by Baekhyun's soft ah's, swallowed by Baekhyun's whimpers. It balls up into something that lodges itself in Kyungsoo's throat, keeps him from breathing properly and evenly. It sends a sizzle of heat straight down Kyungsoo's abdomen.
He takes a few quick breaths, matching that of Baekhyun's uneven breathing. "Jesus, fuck-" comes Baekhyun's choked voice, and that's what reels Kyungsoo back to reality, back to this moment where he's supposed to be looking for Baekhyun and not getting off to his voice.
He slams his fist into the door. Baekhyun's breath hitches a few feet away. "There's someone-" he begins, but his speech is soon cut off by a throaty moan, long and drawn out, like that's what does it for him: the knowledge that someone's watching, listening, that someone's getting off to the mere sound of his voice whittled down to these tiny whimpers and whispers.
A thick blanket of silence wraps around the room, fills its four corners with white noise and the occasional sound of heavy breathing. Kyungsoo can hear his own pulse at the back of his ears, can feel it behind his knees. In the warm and heavy reminder of arousal between his legs that twitches when the other door swings open, then shuts closed not too long after.
When Kyungsoo's well sure that Baekhyun is no longer in sight, he slips from the cubicle and splashes water on his face. It does little to keep him in check, does very little to still the warm thrum of arousal in his chest, but it does make his vision clearer than before. In the mirror, he sees two images: the wrecked look on his features, sweet and sickening, and the ghost of Baekhyun's bright smile hovering his shoulder.
(When he returns to the practice room, hair sticking up in several directions from when he'd mussed it up, Baekhyun cranes his neck and meets his eyes. There's an unspoken message somewhere there, in the tilt of Baekhyun's chin, scrawled on the giving slope of his neck. It's there in the way he holds Kyungsoo's gaze like he's saying, you didn't see what you saw earlier, didn't hear anything. You weren't supposed to know a thing. Kyungsoo's better with body language, so he drops his gaze, traces the column of Baekhyun's neck and fixes his eyes on the bloom of red on Baekhyun's skin.
Baekhyun adjusts his shirt, pulls it up by the collar. Kyungsoo adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his notes. Jongin counts to three and the music starts. Kyungsoo's body moves to the beat, like every verse is an extension of himself or a phantom limb he isn't even aware that he has. Every brush of his pants against his arousal stings. It's torture.
It's business as usual.)
Kyungsoo tilts his head up and lets the water from the shower prick his skin. The image of Baekhyun's stare still burns at the back of his eyelids, still burns and scores a line down his belly to send a funny tingle to the tip of his dick. They'd made eye contact again after practice, just before the van arrived. It could've meant, 'stall' or 'lemme know if we have to go already, then I'll try to cum- come as soon as possible'. They were still working out the details. What Kyungsoo was sure of, though, was this: he had immaculate timing. By the time Joonmyun looked over his shoulder to do a headcount, Baekhyun was back, not a hair out of place. Then Baekhyun sat right beside him in the van. Pressed thigh to thigh, there was very little that he could do when Baekhyun rested his head on his shoulder. So Kyungsoo let him. When Baekhyun scribbled 'thanks' on the back of his hand five minutes into the ride, Kyungsoo just snorted in response.
He laughs to himself now and presses his palms to his cheeks. He can still feel the sting of the characters Baekhyun had written on his skin, the figures Baekhyun doodled on his hand. He'd tried washing them off earlier, but to no avail. He'd just ended up with the skin on his knuckles white and dry.
He reaches for the soap and tries rubbing it off again. Still no luck.
There's a reason why he'd let the others shower ahead of him: it's hard to get off on the other side of the door knowing that there's someone's leaning against the wall, waiting for his turn. Knowing that someone might catch him. He can't be the first person to get off to the image of his fellow member, his friend on his knees and sucking him off, though. He can't be the only one cursed with the gift of photographic memory so crisp and clear that he can even hear the sounds Baekhyun would make if he thrust too hard into Baekhyun's face, fucked his mouth just so.
But he's the only one who knows about the other Baekhyun. Baekhyun - the one whose voice he's been dancing to for the past three years already - said so earlier, in the van, with his lips pressed to the back of Kyungsoo's ear. "It's a secret. Our little secret," Baekhyun had whispered. Their knuckles brushed against each other. Baekhyun jerked back, like he wasn't accustomed to anyone else but his double touching him. Kyungsoo shrugged his shoulders and said, "Not my secret to tell." He felt Baekhyun's muscles relax after that, the tight knot of tension on the corners of Baekhyun's mouth relaxing against Kyungsoo's cheek.
He feels the ghost of a hand slither around his waist, wrap around him like a quilt and drape on his shoulders. His chest tightens. The warmth travels from the tips of his fingers down to his toes, making them curl-
"Yah, Kyungsoo-" Three knocks on the door, unevenly spaced out. Kyungsoo jerks back, his entire body shivering under the spray. This isn't Baekhyun. This isn't an illusion. This is Chanyeol reeling him back to the surface, like a harsh splash of water to his face. "Hey man, you alive in there? Did the toilet swallow you whole or something?"
"I'll be out in a few," he replies. He tucks his chin, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. He feels nothing but the slide of the strands against his skin, carving narrow slits along the length of his fingers. The soap's long been washed away by the water. "Five minutes," he promises.
"Cool," says Chanyeol on the other side of the door. "Want coffee?"
"Hot choco."
"Or tea- O... kay."
"Thanks," Kyungsoo mutters. He leaves it up to years of knowing each other to amplify the sound of his voice, magnify it tenfold. He tilts his head up again. His bangs stick to his face, slipping between the narrow gaps in his eyebrows. He brushes his hair away, then, and turns off the shower all the way. He doesn't leave until he sees the last drop of water fall to the trap, until he feels his hands again. Then he reaches for his towel, wraps it around his waist tight. Before stepping out of the bathroom, he doubles the knot, makes sure his towel won't come off. He can't take risks. He can't let his guard down.
He can't let himself down.
With only a few weeks left until the start of promotions, the practices start to stretch for longer hours. Minseok's been massaging his knees more, or at least whenever he can. Zitao stretches his back during the small windows of time when they can breathe. Jongin's complaints have dwindled to tiny whimpers, but that isn't to say that the pain's more bearable. It isn't. Kyungsoo has seen Jongin making occasional trips to his physical therapist. He's seen Jongin taking medication for the pain. Once, during breakfast, Jongin went into a fit of panic because he couldn't find his pillbox. So when Sehun dangled it in front of him, he snatched the box right away and kicked Sehun in the calf.
"Not funny," Jongin mumbled. These days, it translates to: this pain is fucking killing me. Someone call the doctor. "Really not funny. Let's see you feel the same thing and-"
"Okay, okay. Enough," Joonmyun interrupted. He shot them a stern look, then blinked at his food like he was trying to recall what he'd been doing before reprimanding the two. Two seats away, Kyungsoo tried picking the seaweed in his soup with his chopsticks, but his hands wouldn't stop shaking. It's the same shit day in and day out, three months before comeback. It was still worse prior to debut, though. So all in all, they're better off now.
He grips his bicep tight now, trying to massage it. His hands haven't stilled yet. The press of his palm is warm, though, a bit comforting, but just as soon as the tension in his limbs dissipates, his throat clenches. He can taste acid in the roof of his mouth. The last meal he's - they - had was breakfast, seven in the morning. The coffee was good, but caffeine unwraps itself from the drinker's body six hours after it's been consumed. And it's already five in the afternoon. They've all just been taking water ever since, too caught up in the desire to perfect the routine before they let their guards down and slack off. Jongin might have munched on a cracker or two, but he needs it for his medication. And they need Jongin in this team.
"Fuck-" Joonmyun huffs, throws his hands in the air at the same time that he groans. "Okay. Break time. Fifteen minutes!" he says in surrender. Chanyeol lets out the most unabashed 'yay!' and collapses on the floor. It sounds more like a llama drowning than anything else. "Just fifteen minutes, okay? After that, we run through the steps one last time-"
"And try to get things right once and for all. Yada yada yada." Yixing sinks to his knees, then lies on his stomach on the floor. He's more vocal when tired but, then again, who isn't? Yixing's patience and control isn't as immeasurable as most people think. He's human, too. "I feel like I'm practicing for fifty comebacks. Everything hurts."
Including your heart? Kyungsoo hears someone ask. Probably Zitao. Only he would have enough energy to joke around after too many runs of their routine. He snorts. "Last time, you said you felt like you were practicing for a hundred."
"A thousand," Baekhyun corrects. He looks around, then turns to Joonmyun to ask, "Can I pee?"
Joonmyun rolls his eyes. "Do whatever you want. Just come back in fifteen minutes. No extensions."
Baekhyun sneaks a glance at Kyungsoo before going on his way. Kyungsoo feels the hair at the back of his nape stand. He shakes that off, cracks his neck and pulls his knees closer to his chest. Fifteen minutes is enough for a nap.
He doesn't get to, though, because Chanyeol starts poking him in his side so he could extend his legs in front of him. So Chanyeol could use his 'squishy legs' as a cushion. There's no use trying to fight it, so Kyungsoo gives in and allows Chanyeol to offer him silence as a 'thank you'. It's enough to soothe the tension in his nerves, his muscles, to make his stomach stop lurching long enough to last until the last practice session before they call it a day. He threads his fingers through Chanyeol's hair, twirls a couple of strands in his fingers until Chanyeol's humming in his sleep. He rouses ten minutes after, unfolding from the curl of his body and burying his nose in the shallow groove between Kyungsoo's knees.
"You smell like shit," Chanyeol groans. He rubs the tip of his nose against Kyungsoo's jeans. Kyungsoo isn't sure yet what Chanyeol's trying to achieve, but whatever - he's too tired to figure this out. "Did you fart?"
From a corner of his eye, he sees Joonmyun shaking his head. "I can, now," Kyungsoo replies, then, standing from where he's been seated on the floor and squeezing his thighs. The rush of blood makes him shiver, almost makes him topple over when his blood reaches his calves. It makes the pulse at the back of his knees throb in heavy beats.
"Do it."
"Like hell, I would."
"All bark, no bite," Chanyeol says, sticking out his tongue.
Kyungsoo does a chomping gesture with his teeth. Chanyeol only laughs in response. A few feet away, Jongin asks, "Where's Baekhyun-hyung? He asked me to teach him how to land nicely after doing a pirouette."
Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. "I'll fetch the dog," he mutters. He draws his shoulders back. The dull 'popping' of his bones feels more like a go signal than a sign to take a break. "Be back in five."
Joonmyun waves him off and closes his eyes again in response.
He checks the bathroom first, swinging the door as quietly as possible so as to not startle anyone. The scent of lime and ocean water greets him. There's none of the thick scent of sex in the air, no closed doors or heavy breathing filling the four corners of the room. His reflection in the mirror glares at him, studies him from head to toe. There's no silhouette of Baekhyun over his shoulder this time, no other Baekhyun to make him turn around and do a double take. Make sure he isn't just imagining things. He feels a familiar sizzle crawl down his stomach, and he shakes it off even before it can make his insides turn. Even before the tingling sensation can reach his toes and make them curl.
He blinks a few times, cups his hands under the tap so he can splash water on his face. Reality, he tells himself. This is reality. It's just him here. He needs to find Baekhyun, on Joonmyun's 'orders'.
He checks the rooftop next, remembering how they used to share a stick up there between recordings in an attempt to calm their stomachs from growling. They were too young then, just a few months shy of debuting. They were naive, a bit foolish. They were irrelevant. Even if they went to Hongdae to get ass drunk or wasted, no one would recognize them, so it was okay to puff one stick after another in the open air. It's nice having that leisure and not having to be hyperaware of everything all the time. Nowadays, they can't even leave the SM building through the back door without having to check if someone's waiting to snap pictures at them outside.
He swings the door to the rooftop open. No Baekhyun in sight here, as well, not even a shadow of him. The air here is cool and fresh and clean. This isn't the air they're breathing back in the practice room, or even in the booth during recordings.
Closed spaces, a voice at the back of his mind says. He takes a different flight of stairs back down, takes one last deep breath of the air out here before heading back inside. He knows exactly where to find Baekhyun.
The fire exit isn't the most comfortable of places to be in. It's hot and humid here, and the air is so thin that Kyungsoo feels his chest constrict three floors in. His threadbare shirt sticks to his back, just along the column of his spine. He can feel the growing cold on the waistband of his pants, sweat from hours of practice collecting on it. Walking into a cold room is a disaster waiting to happen so he stays here, continues his journey south despite aching knees.
He grips the railing with his left hand and the area just above his knee with his right. Two more floors until he gets back to where he started. Two more floors until his limbs give up and out on him.
He lets out a breathy exhale when he catches sight of a tuft of hair from the railings. Baekhyun's voice is low, laboured, but it echoes in the fire exit nonetheless. Gets amplified with every step forward that Kyungsoo takes. Soon, he's seeing another body, hunched in the same manner that Baekhyun is - knees pulled close to his chest, chin rested on them. Bottom lip jutted out and eyebrows in a startlingly straight line even as one of them whispers, "This is tiring."
One of them looks up. This Baekhyun's hair is more messed up, bangs clumped together at the tips because of sweat and oil. Kyungsoo gulps hard. "So they sent a search party for me. How cute," this Baekhyun says, but it sounds strange, almost different. Almost like Kyungsoo doesn't know this voice, like he hasn't been practicing alongside Baekhyun for years. Hasn't been singing to his voice or sleeping to the cracks of it. "Or did you decide to go out on your own?" he continues to ask.
Kyungsoo runs a hand through his hair, grabs a fistful and pulls his hair back. He feels a pinch of pain in his scalp. There are still two Baekhyuns here. "Yeah. I- Well, Joonmyun-hyung was looking for you. Fifteen minutes is over." He drops his gaze to Baekhyun's wrist. He's wearing a wristwatch. Baekhyun hates wearing watches. He shifts his gaze to the other Baekhyun, then, craning his neck to check if he's wearing a band on his wrist. There's nothing there but the glow of fingernail scratches. This is Baekhyun."You can't keep disappearing on us during breaks. Pretty soon, they'll think-"
"I won't do it. I'm not leaving." Baekhyun number two scratches the slope of his neck, rolls his eyes. Growls, except he sounds more like a cat in a lion's costume, mewling again and again. "I just need time alone."
Kyungsoo snorts. Two bodies pressed thigh to thigh in a stairwell is hardly 'alone'. Two bodies sliding against each other in the van, at the very back where it's darkest and they have the leisure of doing anything and everything, isn't 'alone'.
A pregnant pause, then Baekhyun adds, "With myself, I mean. Sort out my shit. Calm down the voices in my head. It's that time of the year again." His shadow laughs a little, nudges him in his side with his elbow. Baekhyun doesn't flinch, but he does rub the underside of his nose. He looks up at Kyungsoo to meet his gaze after a while. A familiar tingle crawls from the back of Kyungsoo's knees down to his ankle. He loses the feeling in his legs for a moment, but it's back as soon as Baekhyun reaches out, as soon as Baekhyun curls his fingers at the cuffs of Kyungsoo's track pants. "They're too noisy."
Baekhyun means, I can't stop thinking about every single thing. Can't stop overanalyzing and being too self-aware, self-conscious. It's the same virus that consumed them before debut, during those six long months when they did nothing but practice how to make people fall in love with them with a coy smile. It's the same virus that nibbled on Kyungsoo's fingers when he accidentally dropped the microphone during a performance. He'd be traumatized by the event after that, scarred forever by the horrified expression on fans' faces. Those were the culprits, sickness and fatigue. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with. They were indestructible.
Alone, being sick of this routine was a sneaky little virus that ate people from the inside. Like a common cold left unattended for too long. A tiny vessel of 'Baekhyun' in Kyungsoo that blooms everytime Baekhyun's voice cracks or whenever he goes pitchy, like every misstep of Baekhyun's is an extension of Kyungsoo's failures. They are part of the same team, after all, part of the unofficial sub-unit called 'when all else fails, when the other members screw up, sing their parts as well.' EXO's caped crusaders when the burden of vocals is too much for Jongdae to bear.
Kyungsoo heaves a sigh. He looks at Baekhyun's fingers, then lifts his gaze to meet Baekhyuns' own. "Then make them shut up."
Both Baekhyuns laugh. One sounds more alive than the other. The twitch of the corners of Baekhyun's - the one he was talking to earlier - mouth is so subtle, barely there. He's the one with the rougher voice, more drenched in fatigue. "I think you know that I'm not good with the shutting up thing."
"Then practice."
"I'm tired of practicing."
"We're all tired," Kyungsoo grumbles. "But that doesn't mean you can just give up and hide wherever and expect us not to get any weird ideas."
Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow. He parts his lips like he's about to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, he blows at his bangs and yawns, open-mouthed, unabashed. "Weird ideas, huh?" he says after a while, seconds after the silence begins to ease in. Kyungsoo's body gives a tiny jerk. It feels as if he's just snapped his neck or something. "What sort of weird ideas?"
The type where someone leaves the group again - that's Joonmyun's greatest fear at the moment. Yifan and Lu Han's departure from the group didn't mean cutting ties with them completely. It just meant being more creative with finding ways to contact them, capitalizing on the small windows of opportunity to keep in touch. Yifan still listens to EXO's music and sobs a little whenever he hears Don't Go. Lu Han still steals Minseok and Sehun from noraebang plans to play soccer with them. They still enjoy samgyupsal as a group of twelve from time to time. The biggest difference lay in the image they had to portray, the hatred they had to harbor in their hearts everytime they went on screen. Every guest appearance was like giving the media opportunity to break the group up one talk show at a time. And every single time, they had to relive the feeling of uncertainty at the back of their minds like a dull ache they've never been able to get rid of.
And then there's Baekhyun being driven to tipping or breaking point, Baekhyun cracking under the pressure and losing his mind. EXO losing one vocalist after another and those talents losing their voice due to overwork. Their career going down the fucking drain without a chance of being ever revived. The rest of the group falling into the same pit of despair because 'we are one'. It's a silly slogan, but nothing quite captures the essence of their friendship like those three words. And EXO-L actually means EXO-Link, not Love.
"All sorts of weird ideas," Kyungsoo answers, instead. He holds Baekhyun's gaze longer, trying to look for an opening. At the slightest movement of Baekhyun's eyebrows, Kyungsoo gestures at the other Baekhyun beside him. He doesn't even get to finish, because soon Baekhyun is rolling his eyes and grinning and letting slip tiny bursts of laughter from his lips. "And ideas turned reality."
"He's both real and unreal. He's got a part of me in him," Baekhyun says, like he's talking about a real person, someone they've worked with in those three years that they've been promoting SM's songs as a group. He isn't. He's talking about this shadow of a person right beside him, the contours of his features fading out into tiny wisps. "He's just not as awesome as I am."
Kyungsoo laughs a little. Baekhyun's shaking his head now, his mouth twisting into a small, incredulous smile. It's as if he's saying, what the hell am I thinking? What did I really want to achieve? How can I still be me when part of me is with this other person beside me? He seems to struggle articulating that, so Kyungsoo echoes the sentiment for him, saying, "But he came from you. He can neither be better nor worse." He can feel light laughter bubbling on his lips, tickling his throat. He half scoffs, half snorts. The lines of tension on Baekhyun's forehead ease into a smooth plain. "It's as good as it gets."
As good as it gets means Baekhyun working hard and working other people harder. Rallying everyone to do their very best so that he won't have to pick up after someone's shit. Often, Baekhyun kids about being the hero, saving the faces of people whose voices crack at the most inopportune times, but after that incident where he went flat on live TV, the teasing dwindled to just sprouts of jokes. They were guests in a reality show that time, a comedy one. Baekhyun managed to turn that humiliating experience into the best joke of the year. The best comeback, as well, when he blew people away after his second performance. Still, Kyungsoo can't forget the look of horror in Baekhyun's features, his wide eyes, the tiny 'o' of his mouth. The way his fingers trembled on Kyungsoo's thigh and the way he almost hit Kyungsoo in the face with his fist when he nailed the high note in his comeback.
"You're not so bad," Kyungsoo says after a while, voice dropping down to a whisper.
Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him, challenging, but the corners of his mouth are quirked up. "Eh. I still have a lot to work on," is Baekhyun's response, the low volume of his voice rivaling that of Kyungsoo's. He locks his arms in front of him, stretching, but it looks more like him burying his face between his arms in an effort to not bare all his teeth at Kyungsoo in glee. It's there in the violent upward tug on his cheeks, in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he resurfaces. It's there in the warm flush coloring his cheeks. None of that shared resource of breathing air and blood between him and the shadow anymore.
He returns his hand to where it's been tugging on a leg of Kyungsoo's pants. Kyungsoo doesn't pay much notice to it, or at least he doesn't it show. "So come back to the practice room with me," he says after a while. It sounds like a plea. It isn't. It's a directive. He clears his throat. "There are people waiting."
Baekhyun holds his gaze for a moment, then looks down at this shoes. Kyungsoo cranes his neck and almost snorts when he sees Baekhyun's dirtied up Keds, his favorite pair even before they debuted. They're worn out, the tips of the shoes almost torn and tattered, but then it's been years. Anything that's been abused this much really will come out like it's been through the worst shitstorm ever. He hears a dull 'pop', then, and feels his entire body jerk. The figure beside Baekhyun dissipates into wisps of black, purified by the light filtering from wherever and making it disappear. Baekhyun looks more alive, though, lips a nice shade of red and cheeks tinted with a bit of pink. His back is no longer hunched, shoulders no longer slumped. His eyes are focused and discerning and asking, did you wait with the rest of the group?
Baekhyun unfurls his fingers from the tight fist on the cuff of Kyungsoo's pants. He drops his hand to his side, then says, "Right. Before hyung throws a fit."
"Right," Kyungsoo echoes, then extends a hand in Baekhyun's direction. Baekhyun looks up at him, just stares at him with an eyebrow cocked in question. Here he is again, reminding Kyungsoo that he's waiting for an answer, a tiny jerk of the body, the slightest gesture that can be a response to what he asked earlier. So Kyungsoo says, "Don't make me wait," shakes his hand a little like waving it in front of Baekhyun's eyes will snap Baekhyun out of his reverie.
Baekhyun slips his fingers between Kyungsoo's own. His palm is rough, callous. The fit of their hands is warm. It makes Kyungsoo shiver.
It makes his insides turn again, and again, and again.
"I can summon him at will when I'm sad. Or just not feeling well," Baekhyun explains one time, when Kyungsoo finds him at the rooftop during lunch. "I just have to say, 'hey Byun', and poof!"
Baekhyun makes this weird sort of gesture with his hands, brandishing them in the air. He even puffs his cheeks and purses his lips as if in concentration, as if he's really summoning his other self just by mentioning the key phrase. And it would've been funny if nothing happened and they ended up staring at emptiness, really, because how the hell does that happen? You don't just think of something and expect it to materialize in front of you. Kyungsoo presses his lips thinly together, then, trying hard not to laugh, but- Poof! The other Baekhyun appears, wisps of white weaving into something more solid. It's as if he's a genie who's just been summoned by his master, a master who looks strangely like him.
Kyungsoo feels his throat go dry. He parts his lips a little, presses them together again when the words escape him. Baekhyun's grinning at him as if saying, hah, you non-believer. He gulps hard.
"And he stays there for as long as he likes," he continues. He sways from side to side, tilting his head like a kid who's just won a bet. "Pretty cool, huh?"
"No?" Kyungsoo answers, earnest. He furrows his eyebrows. "And then what?"
Baekhyun hums, taking a deep breath as he leans back against the railing. He eyes Baekhyun - the other one, the real one - from head to toe, or at least until the other Baekhyun traps him against the steel bars, hands on either side of him. He shakes his head, slow and deliberate, then holds the other Baekhyun's gaze. He watches the subtle rise of Baekhyun's eyebrows, the slow rise and fall of the other Baekhyun's chest as he nods, each repetition three seconds from each other. It's as if there's a conversation going on, spoken through the language of quirks, the tiniest shift of facial muscles. And it feels like intruding. Kyungsoo feels a traitorous cold wrap around his throat, then sink to the bottom of his stomach. He feels it bloom inside him, making him shiver all over.
Then Baekhyun jerks back, shoulders hitting the railing. He lets out a low scowl. "Then he keeps me company," Baekhyun finally answers. He hasn't looked away from the other Baekhyun yet, hasn't lowered the raised eyebrow or pressed his lips together in a dangerously thin line. "However I want him to, for however long I want to keep him around."
That's sickening, that's sick, Kyungsoo wants to say, but Baekhyun doesn't seem to mind the whole arrangement. And the other Baekhyun is studying him, like Baekhyun - the real one, the one who's mouthing 'go' then cocking his head in Kyungsoo's direction - is the most interesting thing ever. Like he's the unexpected outcome of a science experiment, the biggest shock of the century. Kyungsoo can see it now, the headlines on broadsheets if this ever makes the news: 'Byun Baekhyun finds completion in... himself?' The subheading can be, '"I like myself a lot," EXO's Baekhyun confesses'. Kyungsoo will never admit to writing that article.
The other Baekhyun inches farther away from Baekhyun until he's hitting the wall. There's a good foot and a half between both Baekhyuns now, just enough space for Kyungsoo to slip into. Baekhyun gestures at him, then, and says, "C'mere, I don't bite."
Yeah, you just fuck yourself in a bathroom stall during breaks. Kyungsoo snorts, keeps his mouth shuts and just nods. Pretends that the whole arrangement makes sense. At least Baekhyun's voice hasn't crack yet despite the endless hours of practice and his dancing hasn't declined from passable to laughable. He sits next to Baekhyun, then, and looks the other way, studying the features of the other Baekhyun to his right.
A funny shiver crawls up his spine, makes his breath hitch. They have the same smile, the same glint in the eyes. And when they reach out to pinch his cheeks, Kyungsoo isn't able to tell the difference.
one | two