#8: Pansy
Prompt: #8
Title: Pansy
Pairing: tao/suho
Length: 9,238 words
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): trigger warning: blood, violence, gore, rape
Summary: flowers tend to bloom brightly on olive skin, especially as the end of winter comes.
Author’s Note: this was bizarre to write...
Bruises mar his skin like permanent tattoos. No one ever notices them, though. He always makes sure to cover up. Whether it’d be a long sleeve on a hot day, or heavy waterproof makeup when he goes to the pool. He always makes sure to cover up. There’s no way around it, and he’s accepted the fate he’s given to himself by falling in love. A resonating baritone voice calling his name, emotional chocolate brown eyes, and a smile that could bring life to the dead. Park Chanyeol.
Zitao couldn’t help, but fall for the charm completely unaware of the beast that lurks behind boisterous, contagious laughter and knee buckling kisses. He forgives Chanyeol every single time.
He awakes curled into a ball. Flashes of crashing objects and searing pain in his side floods his memory, and he groans before unraveling himself from the uncomfortable position. Something sticky on his forehead; there’s a buzzing in his head. Zitao reaches a shaking hand to touch the substance and grimaces when it hurts. Pulling it back, he inspects the matter. It’s red and smells like iron. Blood. He wipes it on his tattered clothes and pushes himself up off the floor. Legs like jelly make him stumble a few times before he regains his balance. He stands erect holding his left shoulder carefully feeling spikes shooting through the body part. Zitao hobbles to the bathroom to wash up.
Stripping down carefully, he jumps into the shower relishing the feeling of scalding water on cold, bruising skin. Droplets roll down sun-kissed skin seemingly kissing the injuries to help in the healing process, and they run off bringing a pink color with them that pools at his feet. He scrubs himself lightly making sure not to reopen any old wounds from previous sessions.
Stepping out of the bathroom, a fluffy white towel is hung around his hips. Beads of crystal clear water roll off from his black hair to his skin and onto the floor or disappear into the towel. Footsteps can be heard, and Zitao isn’t sure if he should freeze or let his heart do backflips and warm him up. Ignoring the sound, he walks to the bedroom to find some clothes to be stopped by lean arms and stippling pecks on his hot, exposed skin. They travel up to his ear, and teeth gently nibble asking for forgiveness once again. Zitao turns around and looks into eyes that desperately search his own for an answer. He presses their lips together. Letting them mold and cultivate the burning in their hearts. Soon enough, he finds himself spread out beneath Chanyeol a finger up his ass and a hand on his pulsating member. The towel and other clothes strewn across the floor. He hopes his actions speak louder than words. Chanyeol most likely doesn’t get it, but at least he’s happy.
Zitao strolls along the street hand-in-hand with Chanyeol. The sun giving its last farewells before disappearing beneath the horizon in a watercolor of pinks, oranges, and light blue. The wind caresses their faces gently cooling their warm bodies, as they move along the busy district in search of a place to eat dinner.
Finding a decent place, they sit down and order food. Large grins, contagious laughs, and crescent moons seemed to be the focus of their meal rather than the sautéed mushrooms and plump noodles. A few jokes leave Zitao clutching his sides unable to eat his cooling food. They both decide to leave the restaurant after getting their unfinished meals in to-go boxes. This time they’re arm-in-arm walking to their shared apartment their leftovers in Chanyeol’s free hand.
A few people bump into them, but it’s inevitable. Many bodies flit from one place to the other shopping at the various stores, or heading to dinner, some just walk around much like Chanyeol and Zitao. Occasionally, one of them points out a certain boutique and they venture in for a quick look before leaving with big smiles on their faces. It’s a nice clean slate, by the time they return home. Zitao forgets about the bruises and the dull pain in his side.
Chanyeol’s out at work like usual. While at work, Zitao busies himself with cleaning and making sure the apartment is perfect for his return. A chill runs up his spine, as he remembers what happened when he left it subpar to Chanyeol’s expectations.
A strong hand on his neck, as he’s pushed up the wall. An angry fist repeatedly plunging into his abdomen. He’s dropped to the floor and dazed, as there’s a swift kick to his healing leg. A howl of pain while the other just gets even angrier. Chanyeol grabs hold of Zitao’s hair and drags him away from the wall. Now in the center of the living room, Chanyeol straddles Zitao and continually strikes him in the face both with a closed fist and an open hand. A mix of red, pink, and purple blossom on his cheeks and eye area like spring flowers. Zitao prays for someone to save him from this Hell. Chanyeol leaves him for the rest of the night, to return with a bouquet of flowers and a pink, embarrassed blush on the apples of his cheeks; Zitao knows he can’t give Chanyeol up.
He decides to leave a note for the giant saying he’ll be at the library surrounded by the different adventures, romances, and laughs. Hopefully it’s a relaxing experience. Grabbing his house keys and his ID, he steps outside of the sparkling clean apartment. It’s weird without having Chanyeol at his side, but he kind of likes the freedom. Zitao strolls down the sidewalk watching the crowds pass him by; he’s enjoying the waking up atmosphere of the urban city. The sun’s rays beating heavily down on the asphalt despite being about a quarter through its daily travel across the azure sky. Plenty of school buses, and kids in uniform, walk past him in a hurry to get to school on time. Giggling schoolgirls and rowdy schoolboys, Zitao remembers when he was in school; he kind of misses the freedom.
The library comes into view after a few more minutes of easy-paced walking, and his heart thumps happily in his chest; his pace quickens at the thought of sitting on one of the cushy chairs with a new world in his hands.
Entering the library, Zitao is met with screaming silence something he’s missed dearly. Passing by the front desk, he makes his way to the fiction portion randomly choosing an aisle and scanning titles. The sweet aroma of old and fresh off the press books surround him in a symphony of pleasant thoughts and memories. His heart swells, and a smile is perched on his catlike lips. Fingers brush the spines casually looking for something that catches his watchful, brown eyes. Crouching slightly to get a better view of the lower shelves, a lightbulb goes off in his mind, as he pulls a particular book out. His eyes widen, and he remembers this title. Holding it carefully, Zitao leaves the wonderful shelves and sits himself at a plush chair. Opening the old book, he relishes the feeling of yellowed pages and weakened binding in his hands.
From behind the large volume, the librarian glances between the black haired male and his riveting nonfiction on past wars. He's fascinated in the pure emotion on the latter's face. The pure satisfaction from reading a classic in the comfort of a quiet library. In the kid’s corner, a few children giggle while climbing on the oddly shaped furniture; they get scolded by their parents and even he shoots a few glares. Returning his attention to the reader, his palms become sweaty at the thought of approaching the other. A tingling feeling rushes through his body just thinking about meeting excited eyes and seeing the curve of his lips up close. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he re-reads the same sentence obviously distracted.
It's nearing closing time, and Zitao finally notices when there's hardly any people and an orange light streams in through the polished windows. His heart beat quickens, and he checks a nearby clock for the time. 6:00PM. He's late and terribly worried something bad will happen to him the moment he leaves the sanctuary that is the library.
Zitao brings his unfinished book up to the check-out counter and smiles to the librarian while handing him his library card. He mindlessly taps his fingers on the counter waiting for the librarian to hurry up; the clock seems to be speeding up driving an uncomfortable feeling into the pit of his stomach. The librarian returns the book with a sweet smile asking him a few questions like is he new. Zitao shakes his head while tapping his toe, so he doesn't seem rude. A hand is given as well as a name, and Zitao takes it smoothly replying with his own. The librarian grins and rubs the back of his head apologetically saying something along the lines of an apology for taking up the latter's time; he finally noticed the anxiousness. The black-haired male waves his hands hurriedly sputtering words to make the sweet librarian feel better. He buys it, and Zitao is glad. With a quick wave, he leaves with his book in hand.
Junmyeon sighs leaning back in his spinning chair a grin on his lips and a pleasant feeling warming him up.
Zitao runs back home the book in tow. He hopes he's there before Chanyeol, but by the time the door is unlocked he knows he isn't. The familiar scent of spaghetti wafts through the apartment. He steps closer to the kitchen, and finds Chanyeol hunched over a pan stirring it with a wooden spoon, occasionally tasting it and adding in salt, or some more sauce. His body tense with concentration. Zitao awkwardly clears his throat, and flinches slightly at how quickly the other turns around at the sound of his voice.
He bounds over quickly making Zitao curl into himself, but instead of being met with a bruising punch, lean arms wrap around his frame in a heartwarming embrace. A few kisses placed on his closed eyes and on his cheeks. Opening his eyes, Zitao sees worried brown ones, which turn into slight malice. The tight embrace turns into a tight grip on Zitao's shoulders. Chanyeol tells him of his worries and his reasoning for why he's so strict. He raises an open hand and smacks the latter roughly punishing him for coming home late, then apologizes and asks him to never come home late; to which Zitao agreed profusely allowing Chanyeol to kiss him profusely. Tears slip out of his eyes in droplets much like ice melting from the changing seasons.
Another event less day, so he goes out of the apartment to the library to return the adventure novel he read the week before. Greeting Junmyeon with a smile, he places the book on the counter. He asks him for some recommendations on new novels to read. The brunette shelves the book on a cart by a sleeping person. Drumming his finger on his upper thigh, Zitao waits patiently for an answer while watching Junmyeon move around behind the desk. He sees a light bulb go off in his eyes, and the latter recommends him a familiar title. Zitao claps his hands together and is pleased with the response raving about the particular book. The brunette laughs and is glad someone shares his interest in literature.
Curling into himself a bit, he asks if Zitao will be coming tomorrow. Tilting his head, Junmyeon's eyes widen and he explains the event that's going on tomorrow. A cute, little session to read to the kids. He agrees to the idea and apologizes in advance if he's a bit late. Waving his hands about, the librarian grins saying it’s fine.
Eventually Junmyeon finds the courage inside himself to ask Zitao out on a little coffee together. He smiles at the thought without thinking of any potential problems that will arise later. Agreeing to the offer, they leave the safety of the library for the soothing ambiance and smell of freshly ground coffee beans. Junmyeon's tired assistant left to run the slow library for the rest of the day.
Zitao blushes looking at the menu. None of it looks familiar. Junmyeon noticed the latter's flustered face and orders a steaming, sweet, creamy drink for the both of them. Sitting near the window they make meaningless chatter about their lives, and Zitao really enjoys Junmyeon's company. He's never felt this warm and cared for in such a long time.
As Junmyeon talks about his work, Zitao finds himself staring at luscious lips enjoying the cute and pinkness of them. Eventually, he starts noticing how much he's- No.
While Zitao speaks, Junmyeon too finds himself in his own thoughts. The latter grins and he loves the way his eyes turn into crescents. His smile turns into a pout, and Junmyeon knows something didn't go his way. He quickly fumbles for an answer to keep the other occupied.
Their order is called and Zitao rises to get it.
Sitting with steaming cups in hand, they both rack their brains for something to fit into the topic they were talking about. But neither of them were paying attention to each other. A nervous bout of laughter turns into quick apologies and soft brushes of fingertips which leave them both with butterflies fluttering in their stomachs.
Their next "date" is at the nearby amusement park. A pink, fluffy cotton candy split between them, and giant grins on their faces after riding a stomach flipping ride. They walk toward the wooden bench and sit down; the cotton candy bag between them. Zitao thanks Junmyeon for the nice day out and checks his watch sparingly, but it doesn't go unnoticed. He sheepishly smiles back, as if saying no problem and Zitao brushes against his shoulder in a playful manner.
Chanyeol takes notice of Zitao's giddiness when he gets home that day, as he calls out from the kitchen; he's dicing some onions. It's been awhile since he's last seen a smile like that from the other. He wonders what is causing it, and the sinking feeling of despair drops in the pit of his stomach added with some fiery jealousy. His grip tightens on the knife. Maybe, he'll just ask his partner if he's been fooling around. After all there is no relationship without trust. Zitao will come clean; he believes. Zitao loves him too much to leave him. Chanyeol smirks to himself while preparing a mouthwatering meal for the both of them. It's too bad Chanyeol can't see how damaged their relationship is.
On the days Zitao doesn't appear, Junmyeon daydreams of him in between the lines of books. Listing his favorite things, he glides over from one shelf to the other re-shelving books with a peaceful smile on his lips.
His favorite side of Zitao is when he sits investing his attention into something other than flailing around or having his trademark bitch face on. The way his eyebrows scrunch in concentration, while he bites his lower lip lightly. Black hair cascades over his eyes slightly, and Junmyeon always resists the urge to go and fix it. He trips over a stack of books behind the check-out counter and his assistant snickers. A swift glare.
Junmyeon sits in his chair with his latest novel open to the last page he read. He re-reads sentences again thinking about the latter. He visualizes midnight hair catching the sun's last gleaming rays falling from the high windows and staining it in amber yellows and pumpkin oranges. Junmyeon is falling. He's falling hard, and he hopes Zitao feels the same way. Closing his book, he wishes he was an artist. But no amount of brush strokes, palettes, or sentences could describe how beautiful Zitao is to Junmyeon.
Zitao feels more at home in Junmyeon's arms then he ever did in Chanyeol's. It's wrong. It is so wrong, but he loves it. He often finds himself longing for the comforting touches, awkward laughs, and dorky smiles that is the small librarian. Something inside of him brews dangerously, and he can't help but let it bubble over.
The next time he sees Junmyeon, he plants his lips on the other's in a soft, sweet kiss. (The action was returned with just as much passion. Zitao enjoyed it.)
Chanyeol takes a few glances at Zitao humming to himself in front of a boiling pot of water. A grin on his face, as he mumbles the unfamiliar tune. The suspecting feeling from before grows to the point where his knuckles are white with fury, and his eyebrows furrowed; he's no longer paying attention to the TV. Getting off the couch, he bounds over to the other and wraps his arms securely around the thin waist. He places his chin on the other's shoulder; Chanyeol can feel Zitao freeze and melt into his embrace. Promptly, he places a kiss on the cook's neck as if claiming him. His victim giggles and tries to wiggle out of Chanyeol's arms without much success.
A few moments later, the food is ready and the table is set. They sit across each other in white wooden chairs, and a simple table between them filled with steaming delicacies. Picking up their utensils, they say a quick thank you and dig in. The air feels thick with awkwardness, as the couple eats their dinner in complete silence; if a pin was dropped you would be able to hear it. Chanyeol looks up from his meal occasionally deciphering Zitao's slow, mechanical movements, as he chews his food thoroughly. Deciding this time is as good as any, he pops the question that's been boiling for a long time.
Zitao sits their mid-bite, stunned. Chanyeol waits for a response his fingers tightening their grip on the utensil. Zitao's eyes dart to the motion and back to the other's seemingly calm face, but his eyes betray all inner emotions. A chill runs up his spine eerily, and he swallows his food.
There is still no response causing Chanyeol's knuckles to turn white, but he takes slow breaths in and out. In and out. In and out. In and- Zitao reaches a hand over the table to soothe the other.
No. His hand rests carefully on the other's, and Zitao feels horrible he lied. Guilt fills his stomach that night.
The next time Zitao steps foot in the library, he's limping. Junmyeon throws him a questioning look, but he waves it off with a plastered smile to hold in his pained grimace.
Another time, there's a bruise on the corner of his lip, and he'll be wearing a heavy long sleeve in the summer's last ninety degree weather. (Then again, he always wears long sleeves.) Junmyeon swears Zitao's cheeks appear more and more defined with every meeting, but that bright smile never wavers whenever their eyes meet.
Eventually enough is enough, and he finds himself staring too long at the cuts on his cheeks and the purple flowers that painted themselves along the exposed skin of Zitao's collarbones while the latter sits across from him behind the check-out desk reading; Jongin, Junmyeon's assistant, is off listening to music while re-shelving books, CDs, and various DVDs. Zitao looks up from his book feeling an unusual stare on him and sees the slight look of horror on the librarian's face. He tilts his head to the side, and it dawns on him exactly what the other was looking at. Standing abruptly, he dashes out of the quiet paradise. Junmyeon chases after him.
Heart wrenching sniffles bounce off the tiled walls of the bathroom. He crouches down to find Zitao's shoes and lightly knocks on the specific stall door. Fingertips trail down the laminate door in profuse apologies, as they-the apologies- also leave his lips in a rushed manner like a rolling river. Junmyeon wishes Zitao would tell him what was wrong, but if it was really important Zitao would've said something, right?
Despite the affirmation, Chanyeol can't help but feel jealous and mad whenever he sees Zitao's beautiful smile. He's lying...? He's lying! He's lying. He's lying?!
Eventually it becomes too much, and he comes up with a plan to calm his burning curiosity.
Junmyeon walks hand in hand with Zitao; a new bruise on his wrist. He lightly traces the outline unconsciously making the other shiver. As they pass by the various skyscrapers and people, an unsettling feeling reaches both of their stomachs. Their eyes meet; a questioning look in Junmyeon's, and a frightened one in Zitao's. Junmyeon squeezes the other's hand in reassurance while they continue walking down the bustling streets this time slightly more cautious. Zitao presses himself closer to the small librarian.
A few moments later, something touches his shoulder. Zitao turns around dropping his and Junmyeon's clasped hands. Upon turning around, he's met with burning eyes and a calm face. The tip of the latter’s ears red with fury; his face is the textbook description of quiet anger. Eyes flicker to Chanyeol's, and he looks to the concrete sidewalk in shame. Junmyeon looks to the towering frame of the other and looks to Zitao for an explanation, but their eyes don't meet. Chanyeol raises an eyebrow making sure to keep his fists in check. He asks Zitao in a calm tone the same question from earlier. It dawns on Junmyeon that Chanyeol is probably...
Zitao shut down looking to the gloomy concrete, as people pass by then unknowing of the semi-complicated relationship. The silence is enough of an answer to confirm his fears. Chanyeol calmly lifts his boyfriend's face to force him to look at him. Teary eyes betray everything and Chanyeol resists the urge to kill him right there. He asks the question from earlier that week.
No response, and Junmyeon stands there watching; his hands balled into fists as his heart is slowly beaten up by the realization that Zitao was playing him(?); Chanyeol leaves without another word leaving a confused Junmyeon and an upset Zitao in his wake.
For the next couple weeks, Zitao doesn't show up to the library as if giving Junmyeon space. The emptiness felt wrong and sad. Even Jongin picked up on the librarian's recent mood change and leaves small boxes of sweets for the other; Junmyeon appreciates the thought, as he gloomily pops a hard candy in his mouth. He's missing olive skin contrasting with his own paleness, the awkward warmth Zitao provides when they're sitting next to each other, and his soft lips against his own. Having the other's constant presence ripped away felt as if a part of him is missing, and he's not sure what to do. Junmyeon can't go and seek Zitao out since he never got the other's cell, or any form of contact, nor does he know where Zitao lives. Thinking more on that, he questions if he and Zitao had anything together.
He glances at the spot Zitao would usually sit; Junmyeon watches the dust float around in the beams of light. The light gives an ethereal and holy sort of feeling, as if they were at a cathedral instead of a library, but there’s no stained glass to really give it that feeling nor are there pews.
It’s nearing the end of the day and there are hardly any people at the library today. Jongin quietly listens to his music occasionally jerking around as if he was dancing. Junmyeon sighs and closes his novel once he marks what page he’s on. His assistant briefly looks at him; a questioning look is sent his way. The librarian waves him off and lets him continue with his “dancing.” Junmyeon huffs to himself and watches the few people that go in and out of the building.
Zitao lies on the floor curled up. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to move. It hurts. It’s cold and sticky. With his broken arm, he carefully holds onto his midsection where most of the pain radiates from. Blood pools underneath him from the various stinging open wounds on his bruised skin. It hurts. Scraps of clothing that are on him showcase blooming purples dotted with severe reds and blues; teeth marks can be seen. He twists his bare legs together, as if covering himself, but it hurts too much to move. Zitao’s eye is swollen shut, but it’s not like he’ll need it for a while. Lips are busted and bleeding. It’s painful. It is very painful.
His teeth are clenched, as he tries his best not to cry out in pain in fear that Chanyeol will return for an even more severe beating, but Chanyeol left a long time ago. He hasn’t moved since his “boyfriend” left after forcefully pushing himself into the battered Zitao; the wooden floor was very cold and painful. His ass radiates plenty of pain, but nothing compared to the broken feeling in his chest both physically and metaphorically. Zitao never thought Chanyeol could go as far as to r- but people change, he supposes. He wishes Junmyeon is here. He wants the librarian’s soothing presence and smile. Glittery tears spill from his eyes like a meteor shower, and he prays for someone, other than Chanyeol, to find him here on the floor so sad, so broken, and so alone. He convulses in silent sobs.
Junmyeon spots Zitao limping, as he traverses down the semi-empty sidewalk; it’s cold and snow is piled up on either side making a walkway for those crazy enough to go out in the weather. Pillowy snow falls gently from the gray sky and sprinkles itself in their hair like mini marshmallows in steaming hot chocolate. There’s a cast on his arm he notices, as the librarian jogs to the impaired other quickly but safely. Laying a hand on Zitao’s shoulder, he doesn’t expect the response, as the latter practically jumps out of his skin and cries out; the few people that walk by give them odd looks. Zitao realizes it’s Junmyeon after a few quick breaths in and out. He bows his head in an apology and the librarian smiles sheepishly.
They stand facing each other, but not looking at each other; it’s an awkward confrontation. Junmyeon gestures for them to keep moving in the direction Zitao originally was headed in. A pleased smile, but he shakes his head no and wraps his cold fingers around Junmyeon’s wrist lightly taking him to a nearby cafe.
It’s warm and smells strongly of ground coffee beans with hints of cinnamon and pumpkin. The small establishment is packed full of people ordering steaming drinks, while some sit on their laptops finishing papers, or writing, and the loud few who laugh at old stories and catch up with friends. They seat themselves in corner, giving themselves some privacy from everyone else. In the lighting, Junmyeon can spot the outline of a healing bruise and overly pouty lips. Before he can ask what happened, Zitao shrugs his coat off and places it behind his chair and goes to order something. The librarian also removes his cloak; hanging it on the back of chair. He places his elbow on the table and lets his chin rest on his open hand. It’s loud with whispery conversations and the rumbling equipment used to make various coffees and surprisingly enough smoothies. Fresh pastries sit atop the display case and waft throughout the packed room tempting Junmyeon’s taste buds.
After a few minutes, Zitao returns with two lidded cups and a brown bag filled with what Junmyeon hopes is one of the freshly baked pastries. Setting one cup in front of the librarian, he sits down across from him and lays the bag down on the black table between them. A bright smile on a healing busted lip, and flits his eyes from Junmyeon to the bag, as if telling him to look inside. He takes a sip of his warm drink, and watches the older take the baked good from the bag. Junmyeon grins as his prayers were answered; a sticky, gooey, warm cinnamon roll is in a brown paper food boat. Bowing his head in thanks, he takes the two forks out from the bag and places one in front of Zitao. The librarian takes a small fork full of the cinnamon roll and places it in his mouth letting the sweet glaze blend with the bitterness of the cinnamon. It’s soft to chew, and it’s very warm. A simple close mouthed smile to the latter and he hopes it expresses his gratitude to the other. Zitao grins and picks up his own fork. They chat as if they never were apart.
Eventually the smiles die down and their drinks get cold, as they- the drinks- sit on the sleek black table. Junmyeon picks up his cup and takes a small sip of the cooled beverage. The topic he's been questioning for the past two weeks, it finally made its appearance: He makes fleeting glances between Zitao and his own fingers curled around the cold cup. Zitao laughs nervously, but Junmyeon doesn't look up. He questions what happened that day in a soft whisper. The other tilts his head; it's too loud to hear anything. A round of boisterous laughter confirmed it, and Zitao wonders what he asked. This time, the librarian lifts his head and repeats the question from earlier a bit firmer and louder. Something crosses through Zitao's eyes. A shiver runs up the latter's spine despite it being so toasty in the establishment.
He traces the lid of the closed cup as if saying it's a long story. Then he grasps the cup showing off white knuckles; it's hard to talk about. Junmyeon nods his head letting the latter know he'll be patient and open to whatever he has to say. With a small sad smile, he tells his story to the small librarian. Leaving out the details that were too difficult to talk about, but he hoped the latter got the gist.
The time they get out of the establishment, it stopped snowing, but the wind is biting turning their cheeks redder than tomatoes. Zitao stares into the pitch black sky something indecipherable in his eyes; Junmyeon feels bittersweet it. He takes the other’s hand in his own squeezing it for some comfort. Placing a soft peck of Zitao’s bright red cheeks, he squeezes his hand once last time giving warmth and encouragement that it will get better. They part ways in the chilling wind.
A swift to blow to tender skin and an insult is thrown his way. He clenches his teeth and makes sure nothing escapes his mouth. Chanyeol grabs him by the collar of his shirt and tosses him on the floor with a loud thud; he couldn’t help the soft moan that escapes his bruised lips. Straddling Zitao, Chanyeol punches him repeatedly until the sticky red substance can be seen on almost every surface of his boyfriend’s face. Every jab is more fuel to his resentment to his “lover,” and Zitao wishes he realized the situation he’s in earlier. The barrage of fists stop, and his blood runs cold. There’s something warm on his neck, as hands snake under his shirt. His heart begins to beat a million miles an hour, as he dreads the oncoming threats and- Not again. Chanyeol gets off of him, but sneaks a hand into Zitao’s pants to palm him through the thin fabric of his underwear. He lets the other do what he wants without complaint; save for the waterfall escaping his tear ducts. It’s not like anyone will be able to hear him.
Chanyeol pulls down loose fitting jeans and slides the other’s shirt off revealing previous marks he created. He smiles at his own intricate artwork and proceeds to add new ones to the collection. Pink tongue swirling along planes of lean muscle and supple, heated skin. An aroused moan leaves Zitao’s lips, and he bites his broken lip not wanting to give Chanyeol the satisfaction of hearing him break once again. Rough sloppy kisses on his lips and teasing bites on his bare chest, he feels sick to his stomach. Chanyeol finally slips off the last article of clothing leaving Zitao ashamed and embarrassed; his cheeks flare a bright red. Eventually, the rest of Chanyeol’s clothes are piled next to Zitao’s and his warm hands now rubbing circles onto his inner thighs and fluttering kisses are placed around the general vicinity, but not where- No. He won’t give in to his desires; he hates the other too much.
He nibbles lightly on Zitao’s ear asking him to flip onto his stomach which he does without responding. His erection painfully pressed between the weight of himself, Chanyeol, and the cold floor. The other gently squeezes his ass, and Zitao can feel the other’s hard-on pressing into his hole. A few kisses planted on his tight shoulder blades and a few more on the small of his back, as if apologizing for what’s to come next; he wasn’t. Spreading Zitao’s legs a bit more, he shoves himself inside without any preparation. Shrieks leave his mouth while tears roll down his face and onto the wooden floor. Chanyeol pulls out only to repeat the action over and over again. It gets easier to slide in and out once the area is slick with pre-come and blood. A few more thrusts, Zitao finds himself betraying himself to his desires, as Chanyeol rams himself into his prostate. A calloused hand wraps around his hard member pumping it gently coaxing him into his high. Moments later, something warm fills Zitao up, as he too releases into Chanyeol’s hand.
Chanyeol marks the latter’s neck in hickeys and pulls out holding the latter close to him; you’re mine.
Junmyeon watches Zitao carefully, as he reads from the botany picture book. His muscles tense, but he keeps moving around as if nothing is wrong; it’s worrisome. Something happened between him and his abuser, something that haunts him. He scoots a small paperback on flowers in the latter’s direction asking if he wants to talk about it. Looking up from his picture book, Zitao shakes his head softly and shoots a small grin in response; he promises nothing is wrong with it. He bows his head down reading the riveting page about Diphylleia Grayi. Zitao reminds him of the fragile petals of said flower. The librarian leaves him be to re-shelve books.
Finally off work, he walks in step with Zitao as they head to the park on the surprisingly sunny, yet chilly afternoon. A cloudless sky and the sun heats up the glittery snow piles on either side of the sidewalk. They breathe out visible clouds and breathe in nippy air. The concrete damp with water puddles and children run around dragging their parents to watch them jump around in the powdery snow.
It’s a quiet day save for the pleasant giggles and chuckles of families around them enjoying the winter wonderland. Sitting on a damp bench, they’re thankful Jongin told them to bring an extra jacket to sit on. A comfortable silence between them, as they lock their fingers together in the space between them. Zitao squeezes Junmyeon’s hand saying he wants to talk. He responds with a smile back waiting for him to begin.
His jaw unconsciously drops, and with his free hand, Zitao pushes it closed with a teary eyed smile. Fury burns through his veins like a wildfire during dry season. A hand is placed on his clothed forearm snapping him out of his moment of blind rage. Junmyeon looks at Zitao who shakes his head somberly, and that infuriates him more. He stands up for a brief moment taking a few cool breaths in. Watching the families interact with their children, he finds himself slowly grounding himself. Looking back to Zitao, he promises he’ll get him out of the terrible relationship. Hope fills Zitao, and he stands up to plant his lips on Junmyeon’s. It molds into something sweet dotted with the joyful tears.
His routine is back to normal, stealing kisses from Junmyeon and teasing the young assistant by creating simple riddles and hiding books, trinkets, and his phone around the library; Jongin is in a love-hate relationship with his little scavenger hunts. He helps various people find books and makes a few recommendations to the few that want them. He’s happy there, and Chanyeol can see that when he comes home. Zitao is slipping through his fingers, and he’s not sure what to do about it than beating him to a pulp and make his life hell for going behind his back. What does he see in the puny male? He’s awkward, shy, and shorter than him; what the hell does he see? What’s more special about him than Chanyeol?!
Zitao runs through the rain; his boots splashing water all around chilling him to the bone. The fluorescent lights bouncing off the droplets and light his way to the library. The sky is pitch black and dark clouds hang overhead producing the down pour. His heart pounds furiously in his chest, and he can still hear the angry clatter of dishes on the floor. Chanyeol’s face red with anger, as he prepares to throw a punch at his face. He prays that Junmyeon is pulling a late night; he has nowhere else to go.
Underneath the overhang, Zitao tries to open the doors. They’re locked, but there’s a light inside. He bangs on the glass door frantically; there’s a sneaking suspicion that Chanyeol is not far behind him and that he's craving blood. He starts shouting hoping the person inside can hear him. The wind is unforgiving, but he continues to pound on the glass. Soon enough, a familiar face appears into view holding what looks to be a dictionary. Jongin’s headphones still in his ears and a frightened look in his eyes. Upon recognizing Zitao, he rushes to the door and opens it with ease. Pulling his phone out from his back pocket, Jongin calls Junmyeon, as he brings Zitao inside to the warm establishment. Some hushed words are exchanged, and Jongin is pouring some hot chocolate from the thermos on the counter. Pulling his earbuds out, he places the Styrofoam cup in front of the shivering other apologizing for not being able to produce dry clothes for him. Zitao shakes his head of wet hair waving the apology away with cold, shaking hands, and he gratefully takes a sip of the lukewarm beverage. He wonders why Jongin is in so late.
A few minutes later, Junmyeon appears with a lilac gift bag. Shrugging off his coat quickly and placing it behind his usual chair, he hugs the life out of Zitao not caring he’s still dripping wet. Zitao wraps his arms around the other placing his head in the crook of Junmyeon’s neck. He’s so warm and comforting. Releasing the soaked other, he hands the bag over saying it’s a change of clothes. Planting a soft kiss on his wet forehead, Junmyeon takes him to bathroom to change.
When they return, Jongin sits in his usual spinning chair a box of pastries on the desk and a few bottles of water as well. He hums to some popular pop song occasionally biting into a pink frosted sprinkle doughnut. A grin finds its way onto his face upon seeing the vein on Junmyeon’s forehead; he has a thing about eating in his library. Junmyeon decides to let him off the hook this once, and sits in his chair after grabbing a bottle of water. Zitao picks up a simple glaze doughnut before sitting on the check-out desk in sweats and simple cotton shirt. They sit in silence save for the beating rain, eating, and drinking sounds that fill the empty library up.
Jongin clears his throat after eating the rest of his doughnut. He looks at Zitao wondering why the hell he was running in the rain so frantically, so he asks just that. The librarian briefly glances at the silent other that carefully munches on the fried pastry, then turns to his assistant and shakes his head scolding him for asking. Jongin huffs and twirls around in his chair. It's terribly awkward and quiet in the library.
A few moments later, Jongin's snores ring through the shelves and open space; the rain provides a bass note to the glorious symphony. Zitao quietly giggles in the nonfiction section lying on Junmyeon's lap. He caresses the elder’s face, as he grins in delight at the re-telling of Jongin's mishap earlier that day; it's the reason why the younger finds himself in the library so late at night. It's quiet for a moment as Junmyeon leans down and kisses Zitao's forehead tenderly. Looking into his dark eyes, after sitting back up, he asks Zitao what happened earlier before he got to the library. Averting his eyes, he tells the scene.
___________
"Chanyeol...?"
"What is it?"
"I... I've been... I've been meaning to the say this for some time... And I’m not sure how I shou-"
"What is it?"
"Chanyeol... I... I..."
"You don't love me."
"I-I-I-I’m sorry, it’s just-"
“You fell for that person I caught you with, huh?”
“I’m right aren’t I?! Zitao!!!!”
___________
He holds Zitao's hand and squeezes it for comfort. He caresses his smooth face wiping any stray tears, and pecks his forehead. Mumbling sweet nothings, he runs his fingers through silky hair hopefully lulling him into a peaceful sleep filled with pleasant dreams.
Junmyeon awakes curled next to Zitao in the middle of the nonfiction section. An arm wrapped around his slender frame, while the other is underneath him supporting his head as a makeshift pillow. Their legs intertwined; it’s surprisingly hot despite the fact there was no blanket covering the both of them during the cool night. A click is heard, and his head snaps up to see a snickering Jongin with his phone out. He glares at the younger but makes no move to leave the warm embrace. Making a few mocking and kissy faces, Jongin leaves the two of them to eat the leftover doughnuts from last night’s little sleepover. His hand ghosts over Zitao’s peaceful sleeping face memorizing the fine lines of his jaw and the soft, roundness of his cheeks. Feeling the gentle curve of his catlike eyes and pouty lips; his own lips twitch into a small smile.
Zitao’s eyes flutter open laced with fatigue and mild happiness. He lazily grins his good morning and rubs his eyes a couple times to rid himself of the weariness. Junmyeon pecks him on the cheek as his good morning then sits up straight. The other giggles and sits up as well throwing an arm around the elder’s shoulders and leans onto his shoulder whining for a few more minutes of sleep. Junmyeon laughs bopping Zitao’s nose lightly. Shaking his head, he takes one of his hands pulling it up with him when stands up. He whines some more, but gradually gets up and latches onto Junmyeon like a koala on a tree; maybe he should’ve let the other lay down for a bit more.
Getting to the check-out counter, Jongin is in a fit of giggles after watching the couple hobble their way through the nonfiction section to his direction. Junmyeon scowls in his direction while Zitao lets go and plops into his usual chair. Glancing at the clock, the librarian groans remembering he has to open the library in a few hours.
The sky is painted a gorgeous light amber with accents of pinks pushing the cool tones of the lavender-indigo gradient into a violet that stretches to the far reaches of the upper atmosphere. A waking world and it’s quite pretty. Jongin gets off of his chair and makes his rounds around the library to make sure everything is mostly in their place, while Junmyeon goes to unlock the doors and start up the various machinery used to help people check-out, or look-up their items. Zitao stays seated watching the two work. He’s thankful he has them to lean on when his own life gets tough- Chanyeol.
What was he going to do about the relationship he threw away last night? The latter must be looking for him, his blood boiling and fists ready to pummel whoever gets in his way. A shiver runs up Zitao’s spine, and he hopes the situation isn’t that bad. Standing up from his chair, he seeks the comfort of the short male who loves and cares for him; the person to treat him like a human being instead of a ragdoll. Walking through the shelves and aisles, he doesn’t seem to find Junmyeon, but he helps wake up machinery that weren't awoken by the small librarian. He checks the various doors and sees something outside.
Chanyeol stands across from Junmyeon his hands in his pockets and a glare in his eyes, while the other glares back with just as much ferocity. Taking a step closer, he laughs darkly pulling his hand out of his pocket and curling it into a tight fist. Taunting the other, Chanyeol pushes him back toward the library. He stumbles slightly, but still stands his ground ready to jump the taller. The heat in his chest burns, as the latter continues to provoke him by calling him names; he loses it when Chanyeol jeers about the times he fucked Zitao. Junmyeon lunges at Chanyeol his hand curled, and the punch connects with that latter’s cheek. He staggers back a bit shocked the small male had any power in his seemingly weak arms. His brows furrow into a scowl, and he rushes to the other with his fist aiming for his stomach. Junmyeon groans and barricades his arms over the area that was hit. Chanyeol smirks and slugs him again this time in the jaw.
After a few more blows to the face, a dribble of blood leaks out of the corner of his reddened lip. Hardly has he fought back, but when he did Chanyeol made sure to hurt him twice as hard. It hurt so much, but it was probably not even close to the amount of pain Zitao must’ve gone through; the burning fire hasn’t died inside of him yet. Junmyeon wanted to inflict the same amount of pain Zitao must’ve felt during his unhealthy relationship with Chanyeol. Growling, he lunges again hopeful to cause some damage this time.
Moments later, Junmyeon is pinned to the concrete; Chanyeol’s knuckles now stained with the other’s blood. Zitao runs out from the building screaming at the top of his lungs. He shoves the giant off of the librarian cradling Junmyeon’s head close to his chest. A few minutes later, Jongin runs out as well holding that same dictionary from the night before ready to clobber someone. His eyes widen at the scene in front of him; his co-worker on the ground his face barely recognizable, as Zitao screams profanities at the taller guy-named Chanyall?- while cradling said co-worker. He holds his dictionary threateningly, as he approaches the tense site. Laying a hand on the yelling male, he offers some support while maintaining eye contact with Chanyall. The latter spits out some blood and wipes his bloodied fists on his pants and positions himself to fight Jongin, to which he tightens his hold on the precious hard cover dictionary and mumbles for Zitao to call the police and an ambulance for Junmyeon. He breaks eye contact to yell at him to get inside and call. Sniffling, he nods and picks the unconscious male bridal style with slight difficulty.
Inside the cool facility, he’s worried not only for Junmyeon, but for the young assistant with only his wits and a freaking dictionary to protect him from Chanyeol. He quickly dials the various numbers and cleans the other’s wounds to the best of his ability hoping Jongin is alright.
Junmyeon opens eyes with great difficulty. The light piercing and it gives him a headache, so he scrunches his eyes together. A pounding in his head, a throbbing in his face and pain radiates from his midsection; he groans and something grasps his hand a bit too tightly. Someone is murmuring in the background, and he wishes they would shut up; it’s probably Jongin. It’s odd swimming through the haze and darkness of his mind, as Junmyeon slowly wakes up from his slumber.
He tries opening his eyes again, and it’s all fuzzy, but he can make out a few blobs. Someone whispers his name and the grip is tightened on his hand. Junmyeon tries shaking his hand out of it, but he’s too weak to do so thanks to the pain killers which are wearing off at a dramatic rate. Blinking a few times, he recognizes the blobs to be Zitao and Jongin. A weary smile is sent to the both of them, and he clears his throat. Junmyeon asks what happened with his raspy voice his eyes flitting between fuzzy eyes and fuzzier bandages. They mumble through what happened-something about prison-but ultimately he drifts back to sleep thankful the grip on his hand was loosened; he could’ve sworn he lost feeling for a moment.
It’s dark and he licks his lips in need of a drink. His throat is desert dry, but he is still too weak to do much. There’s hardly any light just a few distant rays from the night lights in the hallway outside, and from the parking lot outside his window. He wonders why no one shut the blinds since it’s a bit too bright. He warily wiggles out from underneath his well tucked covers and hears a light snoring from the corner of the room. Turning his head, he can make out a figure slumped on the armchair in an uncomfortable position that will cause the latter to have a knot in his neck the next day, or is that later today? Junmyeon isn’t too sure; all he knows is that he needs water now. His throat is scratchy, and it’s painful to swallow his own saliva.
Feeling the cool tiled floor, he trudges over to his bathroom with a few stumbles here and there. Flicking on the light, Junmyeon grimaces at the brightness and lifts the handle up. Running water reaches his ears; the sound is soothing. He cups a shaky hand underneath the frigid water and brings it up to his chapped lips slurping it up quickly. After repeating the action multiple times, he feels instantly better, as he plods back to his squashy bed after flipping the lights and faucet off.
Eyes readjust to the darkness, and Junmyeon can just barely make out the figure once he exits the bathroom. It’s Zitao. His head bowed down, legs folded crisscross in the armchair while his arms sit in his lap. Junmyeon shuffles over to the sleeping latter and gently prods his arm. He mumbles a bit in response eyes shut, but mouth asking if the latter is okay or is in need of something. To this, the patient responds "no" and lightly grasps his arm and pulls him to his feet leading him to the twin-sized mattress in the middle of the hospital room. Junmyeon helps Zitao lay down and settles down next to him cuddling into his chest. He pulls the lukewarm covers over them and falls back to sleep. Zitao’s arms encircling him in a big, mushy hug.
Upon waking, the comforting warmth of Zitao was gone. Junmyeon sits up in the bright room; the sun's rays greeting the white linoleum floor and bouncing off onto the ceiling. It's busier outside with nurses and doctors walking, or running, back and forth with patients or clipboards. Across the hall, Junmyeon can make out another patient room through the window shades. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he gets off and feels the cool, glossy floor. He shuffles over to the open window, which lets in a pleasant breeze; the curtains slightly billow with the wind. Sitting on the sill, the patient leans his head on the frame work watching the busy parking lot with a small smile.
A door opens, and someone yawns after exiting. Junmyeon turns his head to the noise. Another yawn and its Zitao plodding from the bathroom half-awake. Greeting the sleepy other, he gets up from the window sill and helps him to the bed. Junmyeon giggles at the wobbly other letting him plop onto the cushy bed. Sitting next to him, his head lightly falls onto sagging shoulders. A quick peck to his hair and Zitao holds his hand gently his breathing slow and calm. The patient asks what happened to him before he passed out. Muscles tense, a sharp breath in and a strained one out. Junmyeon lays a hand on the other' slap to soothe him a bit.
Another peck to his hair and he's sure all is well; it's just not something to be discussed, yet.
Jongin sits in the plush chair in place of Zitao who is off settling legal matter thingies that he should know more about, but doesn't. All he knows is that Chanyeol is going to be locked up for a while. Honestly, he's fine with that. Especially after what he's done to Jongin's hand and Junmyeon's general face and body, also whatever connection he had to Zitao must've been... Life changing.
Playing games on your phone with a holey hand, is something he wouldn't recommend to adolescents similar to himself addicted to their "precious" cellular devices. It's difficult and extremely painful, especially since the scabs keep reopening and then the gauze gets inside the new cu- gross.
Junmyeon makes a face at Jongin, which he returns with something even worse and a rumbling laugh. It's nice to hang out with Junmyeon outside of work. He's more open and fun to be around whenever they're outside of their personal sanctuary that is the library, but that's not to say he doesn't like the other's quietness and dedication to his job. They continue making faces until a cute nurse with a gorgeous smile walks in to check on Junmyeon. It's an understatement to say Jongin fell in love with puppy eyes and that melodious laugh. Junmyeon teases him, and Zitao walks in with a bright smile on his face.
___________
Zitao and Junmyeon sit in their new apartment snuggling on the couch while the TV plays some romantic comedy. A few kisses and tickle sessions leave them both in a pleasant mood until a loud wail ruins it. Junmyeon chuckles when Zitao sinks more into plush couch, as he gets up to check on the crying child. Before he could step away from the love seat, his partner grabs his wrist and stands up holding onto him.
"It's my turn," Zitao says with an exasperated tone stretching out on the couch.
"You're tired. It's fine I'll do it," Junmyeon argues patting the other's arm with a mocking grin.
"How 'bout we go together?"
"Sounds like a plan," he smiles and they walk to their child's room together.
The sun shines outside and its spring once again.
Title: Pansy
Pairing: tao/suho
Length: 9,238 words
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): trigger warning: blood, violence, gore, rape
Summary: flowers tend to bloom brightly on olive skin, especially as the end of winter comes.
Author’s Note: this was bizarre to write...
Bruises mar his skin like permanent tattoos. No one ever notices them, though. He always makes sure to cover up. Whether it’d be a long sleeve on a hot day, or heavy waterproof makeup when he goes to the pool. He always makes sure to cover up. There’s no way around it, and he’s accepted the fate he’s given to himself by falling in love. A resonating baritone voice calling his name, emotional chocolate brown eyes, and a smile that could bring life to the dead. Park Chanyeol.
Zitao couldn’t help, but fall for the charm completely unaware of the beast that lurks behind boisterous, contagious laughter and knee buckling kisses. He forgives Chanyeol every single time.
He awakes curled into a ball. Flashes of crashing objects and searing pain in his side floods his memory, and he groans before unraveling himself from the uncomfortable position. Something sticky on his forehead; there’s a buzzing in his head. Zitao reaches a shaking hand to touch the substance and grimaces when it hurts. Pulling it back, he inspects the matter. It’s red and smells like iron. Blood. He wipes it on his tattered clothes and pushes himself up off the floor. Legs like jelly make him stumble a few times before he regains his balance. He stands erect holding his left shoulder carefully feeling spikes shooting through the body part. Zitao hobbles to the bathroom to wash up.
Stripping down carefully, he jumps into the shower relishing the feeling of scalding water on cold, bruising skin. Droplets roll down sun-kissed skin seemingly kissing the injuries to help in the healing process, and they run off bringing a pink color with them that pools at his feet. He scrubs himself lightly making sure not to reopen any old wounds from previous sessions.
Stepping out of the bathroom, a fluffy white towel is hung around his hips. Beads of crystal clear water roll off from his black hair to his skin and onto the floor or disappear into the towel. Footsteps can be heard, and Zitao isn’t sure if he should freeze or let his heart do backflips and warm him up. Ignoring the sound, he walks to the bedroom to find some clothes to be stopped by lean arms and stippling pecks on his hot, exposed skin. They travel up to his ear, and teeth gently nibble asking for forgiveness once again. Zitao turns around and looks into eyes that desperately search his own for an answer. He presses their lips together. Letting them mold and cultivate the burning in their hearts. Soon enough, he finds himself spread out beneath Chanyeol a finger up his ass and a hand on his pulsating member. The towel and other clothes strewn across the floor. He hopes his actions speak louder than words. Chanyeol most likely doesn’t get it, but at least he’s happy.
Zitao strolls along the street hand-in-hand with Chanyeol. The sun giving its last farewells before disappearing beneath the horizon in a watercolor of pinks, oranges, and light blue. The wind caresses their faces gently cooling their warm bodies, as they move along the busy district in search of a place to eat dinner.
Finding a decent place, they sit down and order food. Large grins, contagious laughs, and crescent moons seemed to be the focus of their meal rather than the sautéed mushrooms and plump noodles. A few jokes leave Zitao clutching his sides unable to eat his cooling food. They both decide to leave the restaurant after getting their unfinished meals in to-go boxes. This time they’re arm-in-arm walking to their shared apartment their leftovers in Chanyeol’s free hand.
A few people bump into them, but it’s inevitable. Many bodies flit from one place to the other shopping at the various stores, or heading to dinner, some just walk around much like Chanyeol and Zitao. Occasionally, one of them points out a certain boutique and they venture in for a quick look before leaving with big smiles on their faces. It’s a nice clean slate, by the time they return home. Zitao forgets about the bruises and the dull pain in his side.
Chanyeol’s out at work like usual. While at work, Zitao busies himself with cleaning and making sure the apartment is perfect for his return. A chill runs up his spine, as he remembers what happened when he left it subpar to Chanyeol’s expectations.
A strong hand on his neck, as he’s pushed up the wall. An angry fist repeatedly plunging into his abdomen. He’s dropped to the floor and dazed, as there’s a swift kick to his healing leg. A howl of pain while the other just gets even angrier. Chanyeol grabs hold of Zitao’s hair and drags him away from the wall. Now in the center of the living room, Chanyeol straddles Zitao and continually strikes him in the face both with a closed fist and an open hand. A mix of red, pink, and purple blossom on his cheeks and eye area like spring flowers. Zitao prays for someone to save him from this Hell. Chanyeol leaves him for the rest of the night, to return with a bouquet of flowers and a pink, embarrassed blush on the apples of his cheeks; Zitao knows he can’t give Chanyeol up.
He decides to leave a note for the giant saying he’ll be at the library surrounded by the different adventures, romances, and laughs. Hopefully it’s a relaxing experience. Grabbing his house keys and his ID, he steps outside of the sparkling clean apartment. It’s weird without having Chanyeol at his side, but he kind of likes the freedom. Zitao strolls down the sidewalk watching the crowds pass him by; he’s enjoying the waking up atmosphere of the urban city. The sun’s rays beating heavily down on the asphalt despite being about a quarter through its daily travel across the azure sky. Plenty of school buses, and kids in uniform, walk past him in a hurry to get to school on time. Giggling schoolgirls and rowdy schoolboys, Zitao remembers when he was in school; he kind of misses the freedom.
The library comes into view after a few more minutes of easy-paced walking, and his heart thumps happily in his chest; his pace quickens at the thought of sitting on one of the cushy chairs with a new world in his hands.
Entering the library, Zitao is met with screaming silence something he’s missed dearly. Passing by the front desk, he makes his way to the fiction portion randomly choosing an aisle and scanning titles. The sweet aroma of old and fresh off the press books surround him in a symphony of pleasant thoughts and memories. His heart swells, and a smile is perched on his catlike lips. Fingers brush the spines casually looking for something that catches his watchful, brown eyes. Crouching slightly to get a better view of the lower shelves, a lightbulb goes off in his mind, as he pulls a particular book out. His eyes widen, and he remembers this title. Holding it carefully, Zitao leaves the wonderful shelves and sits himself at a plush chair. Opening the old book, he relishes the feeling of yellowed pages and weakened binding in his hands.
From behind the large volume, the librarian glances between the black haired male and his riveting nonfiction on past wars. He's fascinated in the pure emotion on the latter's face. The pure satisfaction from reading a classic in the comfort of a quiet library. In the kid’s corner, a few children giggle while climbing on the oddly shaped furniture; they get scolded by their parents and even he shoots a few glares. Returning his attention to the reader, his palms become sweaty at the thought of approaching the other. A tingling feeling rushes through his body just thinking about meeting excited eyes and seeing the curve of his lips up close. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he re-reads the same sentence obviously distracted.
It's nearing closing time, and Zitao finally notices when there's hardly any people and an orange light streams in through the polished windows. His heart beat quickens, and he checks a nearby clock for the time. 6:00PM. He's late and terribly worried something bad will happen to him the moment he leaves the sanctuary that is the library.
Zitao brings his unfinished book up to the check-out counter and smiles to the librarian while handing him his library card. He mindlessly taps his fingers on the counter waiting for the librarian to hurry up; the clock seems to be speeding up driving an uncomfortable feeling into the pit of his stomach. The librarian returns the book with a sweet smile asking him a few questions like is he new. Zitao shakes his head while tapping his toe, so he doesn't seem rude. A hand is given as well as a name, and Zitao takes it smoothly replying with his own. The librarian grins and rubs the back of his head apologetically saying something along the lines of an apology for taking up the latter's time; he finally noticed the anxiousness. The black-haired male waves his hands hurriedly sputtering words to make the sweet librarian feel better. He buys it, and Zitao is glad. With a quick wave, he leaves with his book in hand.
Junmyeon sighs leaning back in his spinning chair a grin on his lips and a pleasant feeling warming him up.
Zitao runs back home the book in tow. He hopes he's there before Chanyeol, but by the time the door is unlocked he knows he isn't. The familiar scent of spaghetti wafts through the apartment. He steps closer to the kitchen, and finds Chanyeol hunched over a pan stirring it with a wooden spoon, occasionally tasting it and adding in salt, or some more sauce. His body tense with concentration. Zitao awkwardly clears his throat, and flinches slightly at how quickly the other turns around at the sound of his voice.
He bounds over quickly making Zitao curl into himself, but instead of being met with a bruising punch, lean arms wrap around his frame in a heartwarming embrace. A few kisses placed on his closed eyes and on his cheeks. Opening his eyes, Zitao sees worried brown ones, which turn into slight malice. The tight embrace turns into a tight grip on Zitao's shoulders. Chanyeol tells him of his worries and his reasoning for why he's so strict. He raises an open hand and smacks the latter roughly punishing him for coming home late, then apologizes and asks him to never come home late; to which Zitao agreed profusely allowing Chanyeol to kiss him profusely. Tears slip out of his eyes in droplets much like ice melting from the changing seasons.
Another event less day, so he goes out of the apartment to the library to return the adventure novel he read the week before. Greeting Junmyeon with a smile, he places the book on the counter. He asks him for some recommendations on new novels to read. The brunette shelves the book on a cart by a sleeping person. Drumming his finger on his upper thigh, Zitao waits patiently for an answer while watching Junmyeon move around behind the desk. He sees a light bulb go off in his eyes, and the latter recommends him a familiar title. Zitao claps his hands together and is pleased with the response raving about the particular book. The brunette laughs and is glad someone shares his interest in literature.
Curling into himself a bit, he asks if Zitao will be coming tomorrow. Tilting his head, Junmyeon's eyes widen and he explains the event that's going on tomorrow. A cute, little session to read to the kids. He agrees to the idea and apologizes in advance if he's a bit late. Waving his hands about, the librarian grins saying it’s fine.
Eventually Junmyeon finds the courage inside himself to ask Zitao out on a little coffee together. He smiles at the thought without thinking of any potential problems that will arise later. Agreeing to the offer, they leave the safety of the library for the soothing ambiance and smell of freshly ground coffee beans. Junmyeon's tired assistant left to run the slow library for the rest of the day.
Zitao blushes looking at the menu. None of it looks familiar. Junmyeon noticed the latter's flustered face and orders a steaming, sweet, creamy drink for the both of them. Sitting near the window they make meaningless chatter about their lives, and Zitao really enjoys Junmyeon's company. He's never felt this warm and cared for in such a long time.
As Junmyeon talks about his work, Zitao finds himself staring at luscious lips enjoying the cute and pinkness of them. Eventually, he starts noticing how much he's- No.
While Zitao speaks, Junmyeon too finds himself in his own thoughts. The latter grins and he loves the way his eyes turn into crescents. His smile turns into a pout, and Junmyeon knows something didn't go his way. He quickly fumbles for an answer to keep the other occupied.
Their order is called and Zitao rises to get it.
Sitting with steaming cups in hand, they both rack their brains for something to fit into the topic they were talking about. But neither of them were paying attention to each other. A nervous bout of laughter turns into quick apologies and soft brushes of fingertips which leave them both with butterflies fluttering in their stomachs.
Their next "date" is at the nearby amusement park. A pink, fluffy cotton candy split between them, and giant grins on their faces after riding a stomach flipping ride. They walk toward the wooden bench and sit down; the cotton candy bag between them. Zitao thanks Junmyeon for the nice day out and checks his watch sparingly, but it doesn't go unnoticed. He sheepishly smiles back, as if saying no problem and Zitao brushes against his shoulder in a playful manner.
Chanyeol takes notice of Zitao's giddiness when he gets home that day, as he calls out from the kitchen; he's dicing some onions. It's been awhile since he's last seen a smile like that from the other. He wonders what is causing it, and the sinking feeling of despair drops in the pit of his stomach added with some fiery jealousy. His grip tightens on the knife. Maybe, he'll just ask his partner if he's been fooling around. After all there is no relationship without trust. Zitao will come clean; he believes. Zitao loves him too much to leave him. Chanyeol smirks to himself while preparing a mouthwatering meal for the both of them. It's too bad Chanyeol can't see how damaged their relationship is.
On the days Zitao doesn't appear, Junmyeon daydreams of him in between the lines of books. Listing his favorite things, he glides over from one shelf to the other re-shelving books with a peaceful smile on his lips.
His favorite side of Zitao is when he sits investing his attention into something other than flailing around or having his trademark bitch face on. The way his eyebrows scrunch in concentration, while he bites his lower lip lightly. Black hair cascades over his eyes slightly, and Junmyeon always resists the urge to go and fix it. He trips over a stack of books behind the check-out counter and his assistant snickers. A swift glare.
Junmyeon sits in his chair with his latest novel open to the last page he read. He re-reads sentences again thinking about the latter. He visualizes midnight hair catching the sun's last gleaming rays falling from the high windows and staining it in amber yellows and pumpkin oranges. Junmyeon is falling. He's falling hard, and he hopes Zitao feels the same way. Closing his book, he wishes he was an artist. But no amount of brush strokes, palettes, or sentences could describe how beautiful Zitao is to Junmyeon.
Zitao feels more at home in Junmyeon's arms then he ever did in Chanyeol's. It's wrong. It is so wrong, but he loves it. He often finds himself longing for the comforting touches, awkward laughs, and dorky smiles that is the small librarian. Something inside of him brews dangerously, and he can't help but let it bubble over.
The next time he sees Junmyeon, he plants his lips on the other's in a soft, sweet kiss. (The action was returned with just as much passion. Zitao enjoyed it.)
Chanyeol takes a few glances at Zitao humming to himself in front of a boiling pot of water. A grin on his face, as he mumbles the unfamiliar tune. The suspecting feeling from before grows to the point where his knuckles are white with fury, and his eyebrows furrowed; he's no longer paying attention to the TV. Getting off the couch, he bounds over to the other and wraps his arms securely around the thin waist. He places his chin on the other's shoulder; Chanyeol can feel Zitao freeze and melt into his embrace. Promptly, he places a kiss on the cook's neck as if claiming him. His victim giggles and tries to wiggle out of Chanyeol's arms without much success.
A few moments later, the food is ready and the table is set. They sit across each other in white wooden chairs, and a simple table between them filled with steaming delicacies. Picking up their utensils, they say a quick thank you and dig in. The air feels thick with awkwardness, as the couple eats their dinner in complete silence; if a pin was dropped you would be able to hear it. Chanyeol looks up from his meal occasionally deciphering Zitao's slow, mechanical movements, as he chews his food thoroughly. Deciding this time is as good as any, he pops the question that's been boiling for a long time.
Zitao sits their mid-bite, stunned. Chanyeol waits for a response his fingers tightening their grip on the utensil. Zitao's eyes dart to the motion and back to the other's seemingly calm face, but his eyes betray all inner emotions. A chill runs up his spine eerily, and he swallows his food.
There is still no response causing Chanyeol's knuckles to turn white, but he takes slow breaths in and out. In and out. In and out. In and- Zitao reaches a hand over the table to soothe the other.
No. His hand rests carefully on the other's, and Zitao feels horrible he lied. Guilt fills his stomach that night.
The next time Zitao steps foot in the library, he's limping. Junmyeon throws him a questioning look, but he waves it off with a plastered smile to hold in his pained grimace.
Another time, there's a bruise on the corner of his lip, and he'll be wearing a heavy long sleeve in the summer's last ninety degree weather. (Then again, he always wears long sleeves.) Junmyeon swears Zitao's cheeks appear more and more defined with every meeting, but that bright smile never wavers whenever their eyes meet.
Eventually enough is enough, and he finds himself staring too long at the cuts on his cheeks and the purple flowers that painted themselves along the exposed skin of Zitao's collarbones while the latter sits across from him behind the check-out desk reading; Jongin, Junmyeon's assistant, is off listening to music while re-shelving books, CDs, and various DVDs. Zitao looks up from his book feeling an unusual stare on him and sees the slight look of horror on the librarian's face. He tilts his head to the side, and it dawns on him exactly what the other was looking at. Standing abruptly, he dashes out of the quiet paradise. Junmyeon chases after him.
Heart wrenching sniffles bounce off the tiled walls of the bathroom. He crouches down to find Zitao's shoes and lightly knocks on the specific stall door. Fingertips trail down the laminate door in profuse apologies, as they-the apologies- also leave his lips in a rushed manner like a rolling river. Junmyeon wishes Zitao would tell him what was wrong, but if it was really important Zitao would've said something, right?
Despite the affirmation, Chanyeol can't help but feel jealous and mad whenever he sees Zitao's beautiful smile. He's lying...? He's lying! He's lying. He's lying?!
Eventually it becomes too much, and he comes up with a plan to calm his burning curiosity.
Junmyeon walks hand in hand with Zitao; a new bruise on his wrist. He lightly traces the outline unconsciously making the other shiver. As they pass by the various skyscrapers and people, an unsettling feeling reaches both of their stomachs. Their eyes meet; a questioning look in Junmyeon's, and a frightened one in Zitao's. Junmyeon squeezes the other's hand in reassurance while they continue walking down the bustling streets this time slightly more cautious. Zitao presses himself closer to the small librarian.
A few moments later, something touches his shoulder. Zitao turns around dropping his and Junmyeon's clasped hands. Upon turning around, he's met with burning eyes and a calm face. The tip of the latter’s ears red with fury; his face is the textbook description of quiet anger. Eyes flicker to Chanyeol's, and he looks to the concrete sidewalk in shame. Junmyeon looks to the towering frame of the other and looks to Zitao for an explanation, but their eyes don't meet. Chanyeol raises an eyebrow making sure to keep his fists in check. He asks Zitao in a calm tone the same question from earlier. It dawns on Junmyeon that Chanyeol is probably...
Zitao shut down looking to the gloomy concrete, as people pass by then unknowing of the semi-complicated relationship. The silence is enough of an answer to confirm his fears. Chanyeol calmly lifts his boyfriend's face to force him to look at him. Teary eyes betray everything and Chanyeol resists the urge to kill him right there. He asks the question from earlier that week.
No response, and Junmyeon stands there watching; his hands balled into fists as his heart is slowly beaten up by the realization that Zitao was playing him(?); Chanyeol leaves without another word leaving a confused Junmyeon and an upset Zitao in his wake.
For the next couple weeks, Zitao doesn't show up to the library as if giving Junmyeon space. The emptiness felt wrong and sad. Even Jongin picked up on the librarian's recent mood change and leaves small boxes of sweets for the other; Junmyeon appreciates the thought, as he gloomily pops a hard candy in his mouth. He's missing olive skin contrasting with his own paleness, the awkward warmth Zitao provides when they're sitting next to each other, and his soft lips against his own. Having the other's constant presence ripped away felt as if a part of him is missing, and he's not sure what to do. Junmyeon can't go and seek Zitao out since he never got the other's cell, or any form of contact, nor does he know where Zitao lives. Thinking more on that, he questions if he and Zitao had anything together.
He glances at the spot Zitao would usually sit; Junmyeon watches the dust float around in the beams of light. The light gives an ethereal and holy sort of feeling, as if they were at a cathedral instead of a library, but there’s no stained glass to really give it that feeling nor are there pews.
It’s nearing the end of the day and there are hardly any people at the library today. Jongin quietly listens to his music occasionally jerking around as if he was dancing. Junmyeon sighs and closes his novel once he marks what page he’s on. His assistant briefly looks at him; a questioning look is sent his way. The librarian waves him off and lets him continue with his “dancing.” Junmyeon huffs to himself and watches the few people that go in and out of the building.
Zitao lies on the floor curled up. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to move. It hurts. It’s cold and sticky. With his broken arm, he carefully holds onto his midsection where most of the pain radiates from. Blood pools underneath him from the various stinging open wounds on his bruised skin. It hurts. Scraps of clothing that are on him showcase blooming purples dotted with severe reds and blues; teeth marks can be seen. He twists his bare legs together, as if covering himself, but it hurts too much to move. Zitao’s eye is swollen shut, but it’s not like he’ll need it for a while. Lips are busted and bleeding. It’s painful. It is very painful.
His teeth are clenched, as he tries his best not to cry out in pain in fear that Chanyeol will return for an even more severe beating, but Chanyeol left a long time ago. He hasn’t moved since his “boyfriend” left after forcefully pushing himself into the battered Zitao; the wooden floor was very cold and painful. His ass radiates plenty of pain, but nothing compared to the broken feeling in his chest both physically and metaphorically. Zitao never thought Chanyeol could go as far as to r- but people change, he supposes. He wishes Junmyeon is here. He wants the librarian’s soothing presence and smile. Glittery tears spill from his eyes like a meteor shower, and he prays for someone, other than Chanyeol, to find him here on the floor so sad, so broken, and so alone. He convulses in silent sobs.
Junmyeon spots Zitao limping, as he traverses down the semi-empty sidewalk; it’s cold and snow is piled up on either side making a walkway for those crazy enough to go out in the weather. Pillowy snow falls gently from the gray sky and sprinkles itself in their hair like mini marshmallows in steaming hot chocolate. There’s a cast on his arm he notices, as the librarian jogs to the impaired other quickly but safely. Laying a hand on Zitao’s shoulder, he doesn’t expect the response, as the latter practically jumps out of his skin and cries out; the few people that walk by give them odd looks. Zitao realizes it’s Junmyeon after a few quick breaths in and out. He bows his head in an apology and the librarian smiles sheepishly.
They stand facing each other, but not looking at each other; it’s an awkward confrontation. Junmyeon gestures for them to keep moving in the direction Zitao originally was headed in. A pleased smile, but he shakes his head no and wraps his cold fingers around Junmyeon’s wrist lightly taking him to a nearby cafe.
It’s warm and smells strongly of ground coffee beans with hints of cinnamon and pumpkin. The small establishment is packed full of people ordering steaming drinks, while some sit on their laptops finishing papers, or writing, and the loud few who laugh at old stories and catch up with friends. They seat themselves in corner, giving themselves some privacy from everyone else. In the lighting, Junmyeon can spot the outline of a healing bruise and overly pouty lips. Before he can ask what happened, Zitao shrugs his coat off and places it behind his chair and goes to order something. The librarian also removes his cloak; hanging it on the back of chair. He places his elbow on the table and lets his chin rest on his open hand. It’s loud with whispery conversations and the rumbling equipment used to make various coffees and surprisingly enough smoothies. Fresh pastries sit atop the display case and waft throughout the packed room tempting Junmyeon’s taste buds.
After a few minutes, Zitao returns with two lidded cups and a brown bag filled with what Junmyeon hopes is one of the freshly baked pastries. Setting one cup in front of the librarian, he sits down across from him and lays the bag down on the black table between them. A bright smile on a healing busted lip, and flits his eyes from Junmyeon to the bag, as if telling him to look inside. He takes a sip of his warm drink, and watches the older take the baked good from the bag. Junmyeon grins as his prayers were answered; a sticky, gooey, warm cinnamon roll is in a brown paper food boat. Bowing his head in thanks, he takes the two forks out from the bag and places one in front of Zitao. The librarian takes a small fork full of the cinnamon roll and places it in his mouth letting the sweet glaze blend with the bitterness of the cinnamon. It’s soft to chew, and it’s very warm. A simple close mouthed smile to the latter and he hopes it expresses his gratitude to the other. Zitao grins and picks up his own fork. They chat as if they never were apart.
Eventually the smiles die down and their drinks get cold, as they- the drinks- sit on the sleek black table. Junmyeon picks up his cup and takes a small sip of the cooled beverage. The topic he's been questioning for the past two weeks, it finally made its appearance: He makes fleeting glances between Zitao and his own fingers curled around the cold cup. Zitao laughs nervously, but Junmyeon doesn't look up. He questions what happened that day in a soft whisper. The other tilts his head; it's too loud to hear anything. A round of boisterous laughter confirmed it, and Zitao wonders what he asked. This time, the librarian lifts his head and repeats the question from earlier a bit firmer and louder. Something crosses through Zitao's eyes. A shiver runs up the latter's spine despite it being so toasty in the establishment.
He traces the lid of the closed cup as if saying it's a long story. Then he grasps the cup showing off white knuckles; it's hard to talk about. Junmyeon nods his head letting the latter know he'll be patient and open to whatever he has to say. With a small sad smile, he tells his story to the small librarian. Leaving out the details that were too difficult to talk about, but he hoped the latter got the gist.
The time they get out of the establishment, it stopped snowing, but the wind is biting turning their cheeks redder than tomatoes. Zitao stares into the pitch black sky something indecipherable in his eyes; Junmyeon feels bittersweet it. He takes the other’s hand in his own squeezing it for some comfort. Placing a soft peck of Zitao’s bright red cheeks, he squeezes his hand once last time giving warmth and encouragement that it will get better. They part ways in the chilling wind.
A swift to blow to tender skin and an insult is thrown his way. He clenches his teeth and makes sure nothing escapes his mouth. Chanyeol grabs him by the collar of his shirt and tosses him on the floor with a loud thud; he couldn’t help the soft moan that escapes his bruised lips. Straddling Zitao, Chanyeol punches him repeatedly until the sticky red substance can be seen on almost every surface of his boyfriend’s face. Every jab is more fuel to his resentment to his “lover,” and Zitao wishes he realized the situation he’s in earlier. The barrage of fists stop, and his blood runs cold. There’s something warm on his neck, as hands snake under his shirt. His heart begins to beat a million miles an hour, as he dreads the oncoming threats and- Not again. Chanyeol gets off of him, but sneaks a hand into Zitao’s pants to palm him through the thin fabric of his underwear. He lets the other do what he wants without complaint; save for the waterfall escaping his tear ducts. It’s not like anyone will be able to hear him.
Chanyeol pulls down loose fitting jeans and slides the other’s shirt off revealing previous marks he created. He smiles at his own intricate artwork and proceeds to add new ones to the collection. Pink tongue swirling along planes of lean muscle and supple, heated skin. An aroused moan leaves Zitao’s lips, and he bites his broken lip not wanting to give Chanyeol the satisfaction of hearing him break once again. Rough sloppy kisses on his lips and teasing bites on his bare chest, he feels sick to his stomach. Chanyeol finally slips off the last article of clothing leaving Zitao ashamed and embarrassed; his cheeks flare a bright red. Eventually, the rest of Chanyeol’s clothes are piled next to Zitao’s and his warm hands now rubbing circles onto his inner thighs and fluttering kisses are placed around the general vicinity, but not where- No. He won’t give in to his desires; he hates the other too much.
He nibbles lightly on Zitao’s ear asking him to flip onto his stomach which he does without responding. His erection painfully pressed between the weight of himself, Chanyeol, and the cold floor. The other gently squeezes his ass, and Zitao can feel the other’s hard-on pressing into his hole. A few kisses planted on his tight shoulder blades and a few more on the small of his back, as if apologizing for what’s to come next; he wasn’t. Spreading Zitao’s legs a bit more, he shoves himself inside without any preparation. Shrieks leave his mouth while tears roll down his face and onto the wooden floor. Chanyeol pulls out only to repeat the action over and over again. It gets easier to slide in and out once the area is slick with pre-come and blood. A few more thrusts, Zitao finds himself betraying himself to his desires, as Chanyeol rams himself into his prostate. A calloused hand wraps around his hard member pumping it gently coaxing him into his high. Moments later, something warm fills Zitao up, as he too releases into Chanyeol’s hand.
Chanyeol marks the latter’s neck in hickeys and pulls out holding the latter close to him; you’re mine.
Junmyeon watches Zitao carefully, as he reads from the botany picture book. His muscles tense, but he keeps moving around as if nothing is wrong; it’s worrisome. Something happened between him and his abuser, something that haunts him. He scoots a small paperback on flowers in the latter’s direction asking if he wants to talk about it. Looking up from his picture book, Zitao shakes his head softly and shoots a small grin in response; he promises nothing is wrong with it. He bows his head down reading the riveting page about Diphylleia Grayi. Zitao reminds him of the fragile petals of said flower. The librarian leaves him be to re-shelve books.
Finally off work, he walks in step with Zitao as they head to the park on the surprisingly sunny, yet chilly afternoon. A cloudless sky and the sun heats up the glittery snow piles on either side of the sidewalk. They breathe out visible clouds and breathe in nippy air. The concrete damp with water puddles and children run around dragging their parents to watch them jump around in the powdery snow.
It’s a quiet day save for the pleasant giggles and chuckles of families around them enjoying the winter wonderland. Sitting on a damp bench, they’re thankful Jongin told them to bring an extra jacket to sit on. A comfortable silence between them, as they lock their fingers together in the space between them. Zitao squeezes Junmyeon’s hand saying he wants to talk. He responds with a smile back waiting for him to begin.
His jaw unconsciously drops, and with his free hand, Zitao pushes it closed with a teary eyed smile. Fury burns through his veins like a wildfire during dry season. A hand is placed on his clothed forearm snapping him out of his moment of blind rage. Junmyeon looks at Zitao who shakes his head somberly, and that infuriates him more. He stands up for a brief moment taking a few cool breaths in. Watching the families interact with their children, he finds himself slowly grounding himself. Looking back to Zitao, he promises he’ll get him out of the terrible relationship. Hope fills Zitao, and he stands up to plant his lips on Junmyeon’s. It molds into something sweet dotted with the joyful tears.
His routine is back to normal, stealing kisses from Junmyeon and teasing the young assistant by creating simple riddles and hiding books, trinkets, and his phone around the library; Jongin is in a love-hate relationship with his little scavenger hunts. He helps various people find books and makes a few recommendations to the few that want them. He’s happy there, and Chanyeol can see that when he comes home. Zitao is slipping through his fingers, and he’s not sure what to do about it than beating him to a pulp and make his life hell for going behind his back. What does he see in the puny male? He’s awkward, shy, and shorter than him; what the hell does he see? What’s more special about him than Chanyeol?!
Zitao runs through the rain; his boots splashing water all around chilling him to the bone. The fluorescent lights bouncing off the droplets and light his way to the library. The sky is pitch black and dark clouds hang overhead producing the down pour. His heart pounds furiously in his chest, and he can still hear the angry clatter of dishes on the floor. Chanyeol’s face red with anger, as he prepares to throw a punch at his face. He prays that Junmyeon is pulling a late night; he has nowhere else to go.
Underneath the overhang, Zitao tries to open the doors. They’re locked, but there’s a light inside. He bangs on the glass door frantically; there’s a sneaking suspicion that Chanyeol is not far behind him and that he's craving blood. He starts shouting hoping the person inside can hear him. The wind is unforgiving, but he continues to pound on the glass. Soon enough, a familiar face appears into view holding what looks to be a dictionary. Jongin’s headphones still in his ears and a frightened look in his eyes. Upon recognizing Zitao, he rushes to the door and opens it with ease. Pulling his phone out from his back pocket, Jongin calls Junmyeon, as he brings Zitao inside to the warm establishment. Some hushed words are exchanged, and Jongin is pouring some hot chocolate from the thermos on the counter. Pulling his earbuds out, he places the Styrofoam cup in front of the shivering other apologizing for not being able to produce dry clothes for him. Zitao shakes his head of wet hair waving the apology away with cold, shaking hands, and he gratefully takes a sip of the lukewarm beverage. He wonders why Jongin is in so late.
A few minutes later, Junmyeon appears with a lilac gift bag. Shrugging off his coat quickly and placing it behind his usual chair, he hugs the life out of Zitao not caring he’s still dripping wet. Zitao wraps his arms around the other placing his head in the crook of Junmyeon’s neck. He’s so warm and comforting. Releasing the soaked other, he hands the bag over saying it’s a change of clothes. Planting a soft kiss on his wet forehead, Junmyeon takes him to bathroom to change.
When they return, Jongin sits in his usual spinning chair a box of pastries on the desk and a few bottles of water as well. He hums to some popular pop song occasionally biting into a pink frosted sprinkle doughnut. A grin finds its way onto his face upon seeing the vein on Junmyeon’s forehead; he has a thing about eating in his library. Junmyeon decides to let him off the hook this once, and sits in his chair after grabbing a bottle of water. Zitao picks up a simple glaze doughnut before sitting on the check-out desk in sweats and simple cotton shirt. They sit in silence save for the beating rain, eating, and drinking sounds that fill the empty library up.
Jongin clears his throat after eating the rest of his doughnut. He looks at Zitao wondering why the hell he was running in the rain so frantically, so he asks just that. The librarian briefly glances at the silent other that carefully munches on the fried pastry, then turns to his assistant and shakes his head scolding him for asking. Jongin huffs and twirls around in his chair. It's terribly awkward and quiet in the library.
A few moments later, Jongin's snores ring through the shelves and open space; the rain provides a bass note to the glorious symphony. Zitao quietly giggles in the nonfiction section lying on Junmyeon's lap. He caresses the elder’s face, as he grins in delight at the re-telling of Jongin's mishap earlier that day; it's the reason why the younger finds himself in the library so late at night. It's quiet for a moment as Junmyeon leans down and kisses Zitao's forehead tenderly. Looking into his dark eyes, after sitting back up, he asks Zitao what happened earlier before he got to the library. Averting his eyes, he tells the scene.
___________
"Chanyeol...?"
"What is it?"
"I... I've been... I've been meaning to the say this for some time... And I’m not sure how I shou-"
"What is it?"
"Chanyeol... I... I..."
"You don't love me."
"I-I-I-I’m sorry, it’s just-"
“You fell for that person I caught you with, huh?”
“I’m right aren’t I?! Zitao!!!!”
___________
He holds Zitao's hand and squeezes it for comfort. He caresses his smooth face wiping any stray tears, and pecks his forehead. Mumbling sweet nothings, he runs his fingers through silky hair hopefully lulling him into a peaceful sleep filled with pleasant dreams.
Junmyeon awakes curled next to Zitao in the middle of the nonfiction section. An arm wrapped around his slender frame, while the other is underneath him supporting his head as a makeshift pillow. Their legs intertwined; it’s surprisingly hot despite the fact there was no blanket covering the both of them during the cool night. A click is heard, and his head snaps up to see a snickering Jongin with his phone out. He glares at the younger but makes no move to leave the warm embrace. Making a few mocking and kissy faces, Jongin leaves the two of them to eat the leftover doughnuts from last night’s little sleepover. His hand ghosts over Zitao’s peaceful sleeping face memorizing the fine lines of his jaw and the soft, roundness of his cheeks. Feeling the gentle curve of his catlike eyes and pouty lips; his own lips twitch into a small smile.
Zitao’s eyes flutter open laced with fatigue and mild happiness. He lazily grins his good morning and rubs his eyes a couple times to rid himself of the weariness. Junmyeon pecks him on the cheek as his good morning then sits up straight. The other giggles and sits up as well throwing an arm around the elder’s shoulders and leans onto his shoulder whining for a few more minutes of sleep. Junmyeon laughs bopping Zitao’s nose lightly. Shaking his head, he takes one of his hands pulling it up with him when stands up. He whines some more, but gradually gets up and latches onto Junmyeon like a koala on a tree; maybe he should’ve let the other lay down for a bit more.
Getting to the check-out counter, Jongin is in a fit of giggles after watching the couple hobble their way through the nonfiction section to his direction. Junmyeon scowls in his direction while Zitao lets go and plops into his usual chair. Glancing at the clock, the librarian groans remembering he has to open the library in a few hours.
The sky is painted a gorgeous light amber with accents of pinks pushing the cool tones of the lavender-indigo gradient into a violet that stretches to the far reaches of the upper atmosphere. A waking world and it’s quite pretty. Jongin gets off of his chair and makes his rounds around the library to make sure everything is mostly in their place, while Junmyeon goes to unlock the doors and start up the various machinery used to help people check-out, or look-up their items. Zitao stays seated watching the two work. He’s thankful he has them to lean on when his own life gets tough- Chanyeol.
What was he going to do about the relationship he threw away last night? The latter must be looking for him, his blood boiling and fists ready to pummel whoever gets in his way. A shiver runs up Zitao’s spine, and he hopes the situation isn’t that bad. Standing up from his chair, he seeks the comfort of the short male who loves and cares for him; the person to treat him like a human being instead of a ragdoll. Walking through the shelves and aisles, he doesn’t seem to find Junmyeon, but he helps wake up machinery that weren't awoken by the small librarian. He checks the various doors and sees something outside.
Chanyeol stands across from Junmyeon his hands in his pockets and a glare in his eyes, while the other glares back with just as much ferocity. Taking a step closer, he laughs darkly pulling his hand out of his pocket and curling it into a tight fist. Taunting the other, Chanyeol pushes him back toward the library. He stumbles slightly, but still stands his ground ready to jump the taller. The heat in his chest burns, as the latter continues to provoke him by calling him names; he loses it when Chanyeol jeers about the times he fucked Zitao. Junmyeon lunges at Chanyeol his hand curled, and the punch connects with that latter’s cheek. He staggers back a bit shocked the small male had any power in his seemingly weak arms. His brows furrow into a scowl, and he rushes to the other with his fist aiming for his stomach. Junmyeon groans and barricades his arms over the area that was hit. Chanyeol smirks and slugs him again this time in the jaw.
After a few more blows to the face, a dribble of blood leaks out of the corner of his reddened lip. Hardly has he fought back, but when he did Chanyeol made sure to hurt him twice as hard. It hurt so much, but it was probably not even close to the amount of pain Zitao must’ve gone through; the burning fire hasn’t died inside of him yet. Junmyeon wanted to inflict the same amount of pain Zitao must’ve felt during his unhealthy relationship with Chanyeol. Growling, he lunges again hopeful to cause some damage this time.
Moments later, Junmyeon is pinned to the concrete; Chanyeol’s knuckles now stained with the other’s blood. Zitao runs out from the building screaming at the top of his lungs. He shoves the giant off of the librarian cradling Junmyeon’s head close to his chest. A few minutes later, Jongin runs out as well holding that same dictionary from the night before ready to clobber someone. His eyes widen at the scene in front of him; his co-worker on the ground his face barely recognizable, as Zitao screams profanities at the taller guy-named Chanyall?- while cradling said co-worker. He holds his dictionary threateningly, as he approaches the tense site. Laying a hand on the yelling male, he offers some support while maintaining eye contact with Chanyall. The latter spits out some blood and wipes his bloodied fists on his pants and positions himself to fight Jongin, to which he tightens his hold on the precious hard cover dictionary and mumbles for Zitao to call the police and an ambulance for Junmyeon. He breaks eye contact to yell at him to get inside and call. Sniffling, he nods and picks the unconscious male bridal style with slight difficulty.
Inside the cool facility, he’s worried not only for Junmyeon, but for the young assistant with only his wits and a freaking dictionary to protect him from Chanyeol. He quickly dials the various numbers and cleans the other’s wounds to the best of his ability hoping Jongin is alright.
Junmyeon opens eyes with great difficulty. The light piercing and it gives him a headache, so he scrunches his eyes together. A pounding in his head, a throbbing in his face and pain radiates from his midsection; he groans and something grasps his hand a bit too tightly. Someone is murmuring in the background, and he wishes they would shut up; it’s probably Jongin. It’s odd swimming through the haze and darkness of his mind, as Junmyeon slowly wakes up from his slumber.
He tries opening his eyes again, and it’s all fuzzy, but he can make out a few blobs. Someone whispers his name and the grip is tightened on his hand. Junmyeon tries shaking his hand out of it, but he’s too weak to do so thanks to the pain killers which are wearing off at a dramatic rate. Blinking a few times, he recognizes the blobs to be Zitao and Jongin. A weary smile is sent to the both of them, and he clears his throat. Junmyeon asks what happened with his raspy voice his eyes flitting between fuzzy eyes and fuzzier bandages. They mumble through what happened-something about prison-but ultimately he drifts back to sleep thankful the grip on his hand was loosened; he could’ve sworn he lost feeling for a moment.
It’s dark and he licks his lips in need of a drink. His throat is desert dry, but he is still too weak to do much. There’s hardly any light just a few distant rays from the night lights in the hallway outside, and from the parking lot outside his window. He wonders why no one shut the blinds since it’s a bit too bright. He warily wiggles out from underneath his well tucked covers and hears a light snoring from the corner of the room. Turning his head, he can make out a figure slumped on the armchair in an uncomfortable position that will cause the latter to have a knot in his neck the next day, or is that later today? Junmyeon isn’t too sure; all he knows is that he needs water now. His throat is scratchy, and it’s painful to swallow his own saliva.
Feeling the cool tiled floor, he trudges over to his bathroom with a few stumbles here and there. Flicking on the light, Junmyeon grimaces at the brightness and lifts the handle up. Running water reaches his ears; the sound is soothing. He cups a shaky hand underneath the frigid water and brings it up to his chapped lips slurping it up quickly. After repeating the action multiple times, he feels instantly better, as he plods back to his squashy bed after flipping the lights and faucet off.
Eyes readjust to the darkness, and Junmyeon can just barely make out the figure once he exits the bathroom. It’s Zitao. His head bowed down, legs folded crisscross in the armchair while his arms sit in his lap. Junmyeon shuffles over to the sleeping latter and gently prods his arm. He mumbles a bit in response eyes shut, but mouth asking if the latter is okay or is in need of something. To this, the patient responds "no" and lightly grasps his arm and pulls him to his feet leading him to the twin-sized mattress in the middle of the hospital room. Junmyeon helps Zitao lay down and settles down next to him cuddling into his chest. He pulls the lukewarm covers over them and falls back to sleep. Zitao’s arms encircling him in a big, mushy hug.
Upon waking, the comforting warmth of Zitao was gone. Junmyeon sits up in the bright room; the sun's rays greeting the white linoleum floor and bouncing off onto the ceiling. It's busier outside with nurses and doctors walking, or running, back and forth with patients or clipboards. Across the hall, Junmyeon can make out another patient room through the window shades. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he gets off and feels the cool, glossy floor. He shuffles over to the open window, which lets in a pleasant breeze; the curtains slightly billow with the wind. Sitting on the sill, the patient leans his head on the frame work watching the busy parking lot with a small smile.
A door opens, and someone yawns after exiting. Junmyeon turns his head to the noise. Another yawn and its Zitao plodding from the bathroom half-awake. Greeting the sleepy other, he gets up from the window sill and helps him to the bed. Junmyeon giggles at the wobbly other letting him plop onto the cushy bed. Sitting next to him, his head lightly falls onto sagging shoulders. A quick peck to his hair and Zitao holds his hand gently his breathing slow and calm. The patient asks what happened to him before he passed out. Muscles tense, a sharp breath in and a strained one out. Junmyeon lays a hand on the other' slap to soothe him a bit.
Another peck to his hair and he's sure all is well; it's just not something to be discussed, yet.
Jongin sits in the plush chair in place of Zitao who is off settling legal matter thingies that he should know more about, but doesn't. All he knows is that Chanyeol is going to be locked up for a while. Honestly, he's fine with that. Especially after what he's done to Jongin's hand and Junmyeon's general face and body, also whatever connection he had to Zitao must've been... Life changing.
Playing games on your phone with a holey hand, is something he wouldn't recommend to adolescents similar to himself addicted to their "precious" cellular devices. It's difficult and extremely painful, especially since the scabs keep reopening and then the gauze gets inside the new cu- gross.
Junmyeon makes a face at Jongin, which he returns with something even worse and a rumbling laugh. It's nice to hang out with Junmyeon outside of work. He's more open and fun to be around whenever they're outside of their personal sanctuary that is the library, but that's not to say he doesn't like the other's quietness and dedication to his job. They continue making faces until a cute nurse with a gorgeous smile walks in to check on Junmyeon. It's an understatement to say Jongin fell in love with puppy eyes and that melodious laugh. Junmyeon teases him, and Zitao walks in with a bright smile on his face.
___________
Zitao and Junmyeon sit in their new apartment snuggling on the couch while the TV plays some romantic comedy. A few kisses and tickle sessions leave them both in a pleasant mood until a loud wail ruins it. Junmyeon chuckles when Zitao sinks more into plush couch, as he gets up to check on the crying child. Before he could step away from the love seat, his partner grabs his wrist and stands up holding onto him.
"It's my turn," Zitao says with an exasperated tone stretching out on the couch.
"You're tired. It's fine I'll do it," Junmyeon argues patting the other's arm with a mocking grin.
"How 'bout we go together?"
"Sounds like a plan," he smiles and they walk to their child's room together.
The sun shines outside and its spring once again.