Stay In Memory
Title: Stay in Memory
Author: Anonymous until 1/30/14
For: parkourdeer
Pairing: Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Word Count: 7,929
Summary: They go backwards in time down memory lane. Baekhyun, Chanyeol and their summer of sentimentality.
Warnings: None
Rating: PG-13
One
There are a few things that come into Baekhyun’s mind at the sight of orange sunsets behind plain fields of green grass and golden corn. One, it’s still summer; two, he has to wake up at ass a.m the next morning to get ready for another day of field work, and three (this one dawns upon him just a few seconds ago); Chanyeol won’t be there to help him tomorrow.
The last one leaves him in a puddle of indescribable emotions. Leaning against the sturdy picket fence, it takes two blinks of large puppy eyes for him to turn around and stare at Mr 6’0 sitting on top of the fence.
Mr 6’0 stares back. They enter this weird moment of gauging each other’s reactions in complete silence until one of them decides to break the ice and climb up to the surface of the earth.
“What?” Mr 6’0 says, but not unkindly.
When Baekhyun speaks, he looks away to stare at the disappearing sun. It provides the atmosphere with much more sentimentality. That and because he can’t stand to look at the man he’s roomed with for three months while speaking about mushy, sentimental stuff.
“Remember the first time we met?”
Silence.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the correct question to ask. Baekhyun wouldn’t know since he’s not one for catching cues and judging appropriateness for times in need of suitability.
But then, a warm hand rests itself on his tiny shoulder, and Baekhyun lets out a long sigh he didn’t even know he was holding.
“How could I ever forget?” Park Chanyeol laughs, “of course I remember.”
And then, in a quieter voice, he continues.
“Of course I do.”
÷
The first time Baekhyun remembers seeing Park Chanyeol, he had been out in the vegetable patch at war with those pesky crop pests. He’s in the midst of saving their best tomatoes from greedy fat worms when his mother hollers his name from the family back door.
“BYUN BAEKHYUN!”
“Oh shit.” Said boy drops all cans of pesticide (approved by the Ministry of Health, don’t worry) instantly and sprints home. Whenever his mother shouts his name something has happened and if he doesn’t make it home in ten seconds flat he’d have to do the dishes that night despite working out in the patch for the entire afternoon.
The house seems relatively normal, no hurricane that blew the roof off, no black car outside the porch with CIA agents standing guard, but the moment Baekhyun bursts through the back door into the living room, things are definitely as normal as a man with eight heads could be.
It’s definitely not normal when you have a complete stranger standing ten feet away from you, donned in crisp clean clothes and smelling of expensive cologne (or was it soap? Baekhyun really doesn’t know). Dude, even his hair screams ‘expensive! rich bastard!’ because oh gosh it looks so shiny and poofy and to be painfully honest Baekhyun really wants so desperately to stroke that mop of mushroom hair this instant.
But anyways, Mr 6’0’s presence has disrupted the serenity of his living room - his house - and such an occurrence is unacceptable. At the sight of Mr 6’0’s thousand watt smile and blinding pearly whites, Baekhyun’s gut tells him he’s not, and never going to like this guy.
“Baekhyun,” his mother addresses him sweetly, something she has never done since third grade (something is up), “this is Park Chanyeol.”
Park Chanyeol. Baekhyun eyes that duffel bag on the floor that is probably worth more than his entire closet of garments in his room. It’s crisp new and the black leather smelled of expensive textile made in multi-billion factories in the industry area.
“Say hello, Baekhyun.” His mother prompts. Baekhyun stares at Mr Park sullenly and mutters his greetings audible enough for the pitiful bacteria living in the carpet to hear. Mr Park’s smile has yet to fade though. His pearly whites emit a glow so strong it irks Baekhyun and grates on his nerves like shredding swiss cheese through the goddamned malfunctioning paper shredder. Vroom, vroom, vrooooooooooo-fuck it all.
“Chanyeol is on a homestay programme and will be staying with us for the summer, dear. He’ll take Baekbeom’s bed and you two can get to know each other better!”
“What? B-But hyung’s bed is in my room.” So pathetic, he’s spluttering in front of a stranger and oh shit he just got the evil eye from his own mother. In front of a stranger. Great. Awesome way to start their very own symbiosis that will last for the next three months.
“Baekhyun,” Mrs. Byun clears her throat loudly, “now be a good boy and show Chanyeol to his bed. Then you can take him on a tour around the house and show him our vegetable patch! Run along now, I have to go see Mrs. Kim for the Pumpkin Festival preparations.”
She leaves them to continue their staring showdown until Chanyeol of all breathing organisms in the room breaks the silence. Damn it, Baekhyun was hoping the venus flytrap would say something first.
“I’m Chanyeol, 92-liner.” Chanyeol flashes his pearly whites again and waves like the insufferable idiot he probably is, “it’s nice to meet you.”
“Baekhyun, same.” And I don’t like you.
“Can you show me where to put my things?” he’s still smiling stupidly.
“Yeah. This way.”
They climb upstairs until they reach the attic. Baekhyun stands by the doorway, giving Chanyeol enough girth and points at the dusty bed at the furthest end of the room.
“That’s my hyung’s bed. He’s studying in Seoul now but he never comes back anyway. Toilet’s down the corridor to your left, kitchen and sitting room are downstairs. Touch my things and you die. I gotta go do work now, see you during dinner at seven.”
Without another word, he closes the door, squashes the pang of guilt throbbing in his chest flat on the ground and marches back to the veggie patch to collect the pesticide he’s left forgotten on the ground.
And this is the first day of how Byun Baekhyun met Park Chanyeol.
÷
After that fateful encounter, they don’t exchange words for the rest of the day. Even during dinner, when Baekhyun’s parents were so preoccupied with the temporary addition to their family, Baekhyun only sits beside the idiot and miserably picks on his vegetables and rice. The only things he picks up from the conversation he’s been left out on are stupid alien phrases such as ‘summer programme’, ‘looked interesting’ and ‘really excited’.
All the meat has been dumped into their guest’s rice bowl, and Baekhyun is left with nothing but those tiny flakes and pieces of bak choy that no one in the family wants or even likes.
Bleh, talk about unfair treatment.
“So what about Baekhyun-ssi?”
Wha? Said boy lifts his head from his rice bowl to find the entire table staring at him with expectant eyes. He blinks.
“Um…”
“Chanyeollie just asked you what your favourite pastime is, were you not listening?”
Oh so just less than a day and we’re onto pet names now, aren’t we?
“I… um, I don’t know, breathing?”
His parents’ expressions transform from expectant to flat out disappointment in less than three seconds. It stings his heart but hey, shouldn’t he be used to it by now? What difference would another addition to the family make anyway? Why should Baekhyun let it affect him so much?
“That’s so cool!” Chanyeol exclaims from the sidelines, blissfully unaware of the current situation the conversation has turned into.
When silence befalls on the table, it’s so unbearably awkward Baekhyun simply cannot stand the scrutiny of his parents any longer. So, he finishes whatever that is in his bowl and stands up to leave.
“You know what, I’m not hungry today. Thanks for the food, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
Stupid Chanyeol, stupid parents, he grits his teeth when he’s in the showers busy scrubbing the sweat out of his skin, god knows what crimes he’s committed in his past life to land in such a stupid family.
But the one thing god forgot, Baekhyun thinks as he returns to his room to see Chanyeol sitting by the table scribbling something down (probably his diary, that childish wuss), was to put Park Chanyeol as far away as possible from him out of his life. At the sound of the door creaking shut, the dufus looks up from his diary and smiles.
“Hey, everything okay?”
Funny, that sounds like something he should be saying instead of his guest. Subtly rolling his eyes, he ignores the oaf and crawls under the covers of his bed. It’s no harm wanting some personal space to be alone, so Baekhyun closes his eyes and pretends to not hear the shuffling of papers and footsteps heading out of the room. When the lights are switched off, Baekhyun re-emerges from his blanket to inspect his surroundings.
Even during summer, the wind is relentless and bites into his skin. At the sight of the empty chair pushed into the table, the room turns ten degrees colder, painted in shades of blues of loneliness.
Frustrated, Baekhyun goes back to sleep in the most miserable state he’d ever been in.
÷
The next morning, an hour before dawn breaks, Baekhyun is already up and carting boxes of leafy greens and tomatoes to the wet market. At the sight of their stall, his mother is already there, waiting for him with crossed arms and an even crosser look on her ugly face.
“Where’s Chanyeollie?”
Ugh.
“He’s exhausted so he’s sleeping in.” Baekhyun lies blank-face while arranging the vegetables on the counter accordingly. After spreading enough ice to keep them sexy veggies fresh, he proceeds to ignore the old woman’s squabbling with their neighbor stall, sits on the stool by the cash counter and waits for the customers to trickle in one by one the moment the clock strikes six.
It’s early, and the cold war with his unwelcomed guest has drained whatever little energy he usually preserves for frustrating, tiresome days like this. Maybe if he ignores Park Chanyeol for the rest of the week the tall dufus might actually go back to Seoul crying for his mummy! This could potentially develop into a strategic plan to combat stupidity!
Baekhyun wonders why the hell did he sign up for countryside life in the first place. If he were given the chance, he’d like very much to get away from this insufferable place and start afresh someplace new, alone, where his efforts to contribute to society would be appreciated at least by the stray cats he picks up from litter boxes and garbage cans. It must be so wonderful to live in the city where everything is proper and organized and all he has to do is work for a living.
“When we get back,” he vaguely hears his mother cooing at the back, “we’ll cook a breakfast extravaganza to commemorate Chanyeollie’s first night at home!”
Oh god.
÷
They didn’t become best friends immediately. Granted it took a while, but the process of washing away the prejudice and jealousy was painfully slow and tremendously vexing. Baekhyun doesn’t even utter a single syllable to his guest; for three entire weeks and counting he pretty much just bathes himself in a sea of rage, occasionally emerging from beneath the waves to spit the choking bitterness at poor unsuspecting trespassers.
It is horribly unhealthy, Baekhyun thinks he’s aged a decade and accumulated a lifetime’s supply of toxins in his liver from all the bitterness.
“So where are we going today?” Chanyeol chirps, long legs catching up effortlessly with an emoting Baekhyun who tried ditching the taller boy two minutes ago.
A tiresome, vexing week has passed. Chanyeol seems to latch onto Baekhyun like the latter dispenses candy on an hourly basis, which is obviously quite the opposite because if Baekhyun were to dispense anything it would be poisoned apples instead of sweet confections. After the first day, Chanyeol seems to have gotten Baekhyun’s daily schedule memorized down to a T and has taken it upon his personal mission to annoy the crap out of him. Mid-morning when Baekhyun had just arrived home from selling veggies in town this morning, Chanyeol was already seated in front of the kitchen table, jotting down every single molecule that moved around him in his diary. Truth be told, it pisses Baekhyun off to think that a stranger could just easily break the ranks of the household and claim an honorary spot at the dinner table.
Where are them poisoned apples when you need them?!
Speaking of apples, tis’ the season to pick them half-ripe apples and ship them all the way to Southeast Asia. Apple Summer Season is close by and it’s almost time to send two barrels to Taeyeon’s so she can reward his services with some yummy awesome applesauce.
So, under the watchful eye of Mrs. Byun, Baekhyun drives the mini truck to the gate so Chanyeollie wouldn’t have to dirty his shoes by stepping on wet, slick mud. They drive past two yards of ripening wheat, windows wound down so the wind would drive away the summer heat and musky smell of old leather and stop suffocating them to death.
Baekhyun takes perverse pleasure in witnessing Chanyeol’s bangs slapping against his sweaty face. It is a glorious sight to behold.
“This is so fun!” The dufus exclaims, laughter rippling through longitudinal waves of air molecules and sound particles.
Pfft, fun. Wait till they crash into a tree and die. Baekhyun would have the time of his life smoking cloud puffs in heaven while watching Chanyeol slave away in hell.
When the BYUN ORCHARD 3KM signboard whizzes past them, Chanyeol engages in real-time hyperventilation and oohs and aahs at every single tree that passes by.
To save his sanity, Baekhyun kills the engine at a corner closest to the apple trees and dumps a large basket in front of an extremely excited Chanyeol. His toothy grin is infectious, but Baekhyun has an immune system that works perfectly well against stupidity so.
“Pick only the ripe and half-ripe ones. I trust you know how to pick apples?”
“The stem!” Chanyeol beams, as if he didn’t know Baekhyun caught him googling how to pluck apples when he drove the truck out of the driveway.
“Meet back here at five. This place is 2 acres large, good luck. You’ll need it when you face the red ants.”
HE’s only kidding, the red ant problem isn’t as bad as that time when his mom went crazy and planted two trees of lychee in their front yard. Oh god, that was the nastiest period ever. The red ants were really no joke.
But still, Chanyeol is a persistent cockroach. He only embarks on his own quest to gather five apples before coming back to tail after Baekhyun like that overgrown puppy he is. At first it was fine, until his creepy stares got too much for Baekhyun to handle and attempts to shake him off were futile.
After the second row of trees, Baekhyun’s thinning patience snaps.
“Okay, what exactly is your problem?!” he whips around to face the giant dufus smiling happily at him, as if this moment of recognition was worth the amount of cold shoulders Baekhyun gave him for a week.
“You’re really cute when you work.”
O’ god, bless the cows because that is not something one would say to a person who hates you with a burning passion.
“E-Excuse me?”
“Your eyebrows scrunch up together like a unibrow when you’re concentrating, and you missed a lot of apples because you’re so focused on getting rid of me.” Chanyeol paints an angelic smile across his lips.
“Gee, if you knew I didn’t want you around, you could’ve done us both a favour and go do your own thing.”
But the smile on Chanyeol’s stupid face remains as he says, “oh but then you and I would be missing this,” he slides the basket strap off his shoulders and produces a quarter of apples Baekhyun thought he already plucked.
Damn. Burn. That motherfucker.
“And this,” Chanyeol takes one step forward and easily reaches for a lonely apple on the branch above Baekhyun’s head.
It takes Baekhyun ten seconds to realize that Chanyeol is holding out the apple for him to claim and put it in his own basket. Affronted, Baekhyun scoffs and turns away.
“You can have it.”
Chanyeol shrugs, like it was no big deal that he has just won their first argument - their first real conversation - over an apple. Well, technically it isn’t a big deal, shouldn’t be, but Baekhyun likes keeping scores with his enemies so ever point matters.
“Wait-”
But by the time Baekhyun turns around, Chanyeol is way past hearing distance, disappearing into another area of greenery before Baekhyun could chuck the damned apple onto his head.
It’s not the close proximity two minutes ago that leaves him stunned and speechless, but it’s the way the air smells of chanyeol after the taller boy walked away. The scent that lingers behind isn’t anything striking and strong, a bit of sweat if one were to concentrate very hard, but distinct enough to sprinkle its magic and let the summer air blow into the dusty corner of his heart.
And later, when his watch strikes five, Baekhyun rounds up his final few trees and makes his way to the truck. They both reach at the same time, and Chanyeol has plucked a considerable amount that could potentially rival his own. Baekhyun is mildly impressed, but swallows the sarcastic praise and opts for a silent drive home instead.
÷
The (onesided) Cold War wages on for the next two weeks, until one of them hits their breaking point because things do not get better unless the worst hits, and they certainly do not go up unless they’ve hit rock bottom.
Surprisingly, Baekhyun is the one who stays sane while he watches Chanyeol break down quietly when he thought no one was looking.
It had been a tiring morning. It was Chanyeol’s second time helping out at the wet market, and the ahjummas (at least, the ones who didn’t coo over his height and how handsome and perfect he’d be for their stupid daughters) had bullied him into dispensing discounts left right up down everywhere. And Baekhyun, after realizing what on earth was going on, sort of… well he didn’t blow up there and then of course but let’s just say everything progressed downhill from there.
In his defence, he has been experiencing weird things lately, 99.9% of it all centered on their household guest invading every train of his thoughts. Unacceptable, he had decided a week ago, Baekhyun would have to make up for the lack of Chanyeol-hate by being extra aggressive to him during the day.
But in retrospect, as he stands by the kitchen window and witnesses Chanyeol wiping away his tears, Baekhyun thinks maybe he’s gone too far this time. After all, it really wasn’t their fault an ahjumma got away with getting her two baskets of leafy greens at half price.
So, in a good act of momentary kindness, he closes the kitchen door behind him and approaches the sniffing teen quietly and takes a seat beside him.
The cruel wave of sadness and sobs subside eventually, but the sniffling remains. Baekhyun doesn’t dare turn his head to face those tear-stricken cheeks because lord, it would be on a motherfucking suicide mission to increase his guilt tenfold should his eyes wander to witness red puffy cheeks and a blotchy nose. Awkwardness is better; let it eat up the guilt and digest its remains till they disappear.
They sit there in awkward silence for another five minutes, until god decided to grace Byun Baekhyun’s mind with a stupendous idea.
“Are you hungry? I know a great place for lunch.”
÷
Ryeowook’s Kitchen and Foods is, as its name suggests, a house-converted eatery that serves only the freshest salmon steak topped with teriyaki sauce and a sprinkle of lemon juice. And scrambled eggs. One cannot forget the fluffy scrambled eggs that are available all day long because screw standard breakfast; egg is a classic meal that deserves to be on every page of the menu instead of the breakfast page only.
When the swinging door creaks open, the waft of oil and cooked poultry smacks them right in the face and everyone is a hungry man instantly.
Baekhyun takes his usual seat by the window (closest to constant source of fresh air) and signals Chanyeol (gangly limbs and all) to sit opposite him.
“Yah Do Kyungsoo!”
Tiny boy emerges behind the counter and makes his way to the only patrons seated in the dining hall. “Oh it’s you. Bastard. Stop putting tabs on the house, we’re almost broke.” He mutters.
Baekhyun ignores the unsubtle jab and starts spewing alien to recount the apples he gave them for free and how it should guarantee him an honorary spot on the eat-for-free members list. He also unkindly mentions how he saved Do Kyungsoo’s life by finding him food, shelter and a job in this very restaurant they’re currently in.
“Blackmail.”
“Not really. The usual please.”
Kyungsoo nods, and looks at a very awestruck Chanyeol flipping through the battered menu and most probably mentally salivating at every food picture display.
“Friend of Baekhyun’s?” he implores, thick bushy eyebrows raised five meters above his large eyes.
“Exchange programme student.” The farm boy corrects hastily.
“Ahhh… So what will Mr. Exchange Programme Student have today?”
When Chanyeol neglects to answer, clearly perplexed at the numerous choices offered, Baekhyun sighs quietly and dictates his orders.
“Just get him today’s special. And scrambled eggs, extra fluffy please.”
“Will do.”
Alas, the silence creeps back on them and steals whatever conversation topic they could have had. While Chanyeol takes in the homely décor of the restaurant, Baekhyun switches between gazing at the meadow outside and observing his guest’s big eyes. He looks so amazed Baekhyun wonders if checkered cloth restaurants actually exist in the big city for dumb people like Chanyeol to ogle at.
Or maybe this is just Park Chanyeol’s default reaction to everything he sees in the countryside. Noob.
(But seriously, Baekhyun is still jealous over the fact that Chanyeol got to live in the city, and the stupid boy abandoned his comfort zone for three months just to suffer in the countryside! Preposterous!)
“Are you feeling better now?” Baekhyun asks out of politeness.
“Not really.”
“Oh god, pray tell, why?”
“You talk to other people, but you still hate me.”
“Is your lifelong mission by chance to get everyone you meet in life to like you?”
“S-Sort of.”
Baekhyun throws his hands up in defeat.
It’s an even funnier sight when the food actually arrives. Baekhyun has to politely wait for Chanyeol to tuck in before he starts chowing down on his fillet, but all said guest does is stare at the yellow fluffy mush in front of him like he’s never seen goddamned eggs in his whole life.
“Eat.” Baekhyun frowned.
Chanyeol shoots him an unsure look. Baekhyun kind of wants to slap him there and then.
“It’s not poisoned! Jesus. I swear on my holy stash of SNSD porn, okay?”
The tall kid visibly gulps before taking a bite of his meal. The reaction is instantaneous. His face lights up into a thousand suns and Baekhyun swears he saw tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes.
Converted.
So much better than finding a new religion.
“This stuff is good.” Is all Chanyeol says. They don’t talk for the next ten minutes because Chanyeol simply goes not have time for it, his face is stuffed with food like a starved man gone hungry for weeks and Baekhyun had to order another glass of water in case Chanyeol chokes on a bone and dies.
But if he were honest, it’s a bit endearing to see the blissful look on the dufus’ face. He looks quite adorable, and nope Baekhyun did not just go there he did not just cross the border of the Shadowlands to the Island of Chanyeol Appreciation nope abort, abort mission abort!
“Do you not want to eat?” Chanyeol asks, pudgy finger pointing at the already-cold salmon on his plate, “Because if you don’t, it’d be nice to have seconds.”
“You ingrate, get your own second helpings.”
÷
When they walk back home together after a hearty meal, Baekhyun gathers his wits and whatever courage he has left in his balls and addresses the unresolved issue of Chanyeol’s sadness again. He really would like some closure on this matter, considering it was somewhat his fault Chanyeol got sad and cries (like a girl) in the first place.
“So,” he tries again, “are you feeling better now?”
From the corner of his vision, Chanyeol beams radiantly.
“Yes!”
Oh god, the happiness is contagious. Baekhyun jams down the corner of his lips and maintains his default expression with much difficulty.
“Oh really? That’s good.” And in the next moment he just had to be the stupid fuck and add unnecessary bullshit that causes his doom, “It’s the food, isn’t it?”
“Nope, wait, sort of, but mostly because you smiled at me the moment we started eating.”
÷
If Baekhyun were to plot a graph for his horrible life, it would look like a never-ending cosine graph. He’s far from being a math genius, but it doesn’t take one to know that cosine graphs always curve down before going up before preparing to curve down again.
The variables of the equation (representing life here) would represent the number of hardships and difficulties in life, and he’d damn say it would be a motherfucking sky high number because his life graph would then resemble a somewhat deformed penis, and that’s saying something because life is always a dick, period.
And if he were to mark his current standing on his penis life graph today, he’d be optimistic and plot them points on the rising part of the line.
Reason unknown, but fuck it all mathematics never needed one to work since the birth of time.
It’s two months into Chanyeol’s stay, and one month until the dufus would go away. Baekhyun is happy; he can go back to being alone again without having to worry over Chanyeol’s wellbeing and state of mind everyday. Finding interesting things to do every waking moment just for the sake of one person is a very tiresome job.
“Where are we going today?” Puppy!Chanyeol wags his imaginary tail excitedly and shoots Baekhyun a smile so full of hope and anticipation.
“I don’t know, plant pumpkin seeds? Check on the tomatoes?”
“COOOOOOOOOL!!!!”
How is that cool?!?! Everyday, Baekhyun questions Chanyeol-Logic. He is so easily excited by anything and everything Baekhyun didn’t know such a creature existed in this world. His immunity to stupidity is weakening day and day and this is certainly not a good thing! Park Chanyeol needs to be gone before Baekhyun succumbs to the deadly infectious happy virus!
Lunch at Ryeowook’s has turned into a daily requirement. Baekhyun grew sick of salmon and chicken within the first week, so he alternates between the different selections of salads (fruit, Caesar, egg) and their soup of the day. He has to watch his weight lest face the dire consequences of a fat belly. Baekhyun is not Chanyeol, he’s definitely not a chowing machine that never grows in the wrong places. Bamboo stick, Baekhyun once called him, but Chanyeol seemed to take every insult he dishes out with pride so after a few calls Baekhyun stopped and the insults pretty much died down.
“Whoa, slow down, the food won’t go anywhere.”
“Your fries are getting cold.” Ugh, the sight of half-chewed potatoes is enough for Baekhyun to push his plate towards the dufus.
“Don’t you ever grow fat?”
“Don’t you ever grow tall?”
“Fuck you.”
“Save it for our next date.”
He spat out his rice.
“What?!”
“Only joking.”
……
“Say, can I ask you something?”
“Idiot, you just did.”
Chanyeol rolled his eyes, it’s a rare sight to behold. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Baekkie…”
“Ewww! Stop. Fine, go ahead and ask, but never, never call me that again.”
The dufus pauses for dramatic effect, swallows his food (Baekhyun has to look away for a moment, Chanyeol’s neck is very distracting) and grins.
“So what are we now? Where would you place us on the global map during World War I?”
Baekhyun stops chewing for a moment, chopsticks held midair. The air around them intensifies until all that’s left is stagnated breaths waiting for the cold to pass so they can start dripping again.
“Frenemies.” The farm boy declares, “Switzerland.”
“Neutral parties.”
Baekhyun nods gravely.
“But you just said we’re frenemies, Switzerland wasn’t a frenemy to any country that tried to blast each other off. Pick one. Friends or enemies?”
Chanyeol’s eyes are so sincere that it burns a door into Baekhyun’s soul. He can’t stand this intense staring showdown so he ducks headfirst and focuses on his unfinished bowl of rice.
In an empty corner of Ryeowook’s Kitchen & Foods, it dawns upon him that the sweltering heat of summer has nothing to do with the temperature rising up his neck at this very moment. It’s something more, most probably related the weird dreams he’s been having at night (about him and Chanyeol walking down the garden lane at night, alone, and something alone those mushy lines), and probably the reason he can’t seem to find his voice box to utter the words rolling at the tip of his tongue waiting to be said.
So, instead of his usual tone, all that comes out is a soft, cowardly quiet sound that Baekhyun utterly hates.
“It’s complicated,” is all he says, and the rest of dinner goes by at the dreadful pace of a snail race.
÷
The calm before the storm passes in a flash, suddenly the afternoon is gone, and they only reach home after sunset.
The moment he sets foot into the house, Baekhyun knows by experience something is wrong. His gut lurches, and suddenly he feels like vomiting everything he ate at Ryeowook’s.
“Welcome home, Chanyeol. And Baekhyun.” His mother is suspiciously calm, legs crossed over the footstool as she regards them with dangerous eyes full of exploding threats.
“Chanyeollie, I need to talk to Baekhyun, so if you would be so kind to excuse yourself, I’d very much appreciate the privacy.”
Fuck. Chanyeol must have witnessed the colour draining from his face, because when he passed by Baekhyun he subtly brushes their fingers together before disappearing upstairs.
In an instant, the sickeningly sweet voice is gone and Baekhyun braces himself for the heavy impact of cold, skin-cutting words. There’s no stopping this crash and he’ll be damned if he falls and dies at this shitty place.
“Where were you this afternoon?” she deadpans.
“We planted pumpkin seeds. And then checked on the tomatoes.”
“Did you forget that the cabbage patch ever existed-”
Oh fuck.
“-because your face now tells me you did.”
“I’m sorry.” He apologises as sincerely as he can.
“Sorry won’t bring back the crops that were destroyed by your neglect.” His mother buries her face into her hands, shaking her head and sighing heavily. Baekhyun hates it, he hates that she makes him feel like a piece of shit, that he’s not and will never be good enough and better than Baekbeom, it’s just not fair that his hyung is off in the city having the time of his life while he is here, stuck in this hellhole slaving away for a family that appreciates a stranger more than their own flesh and blood.
It’s just not fair how he’s never been the bright son - the son who got a scholarship to some unknown university in Seoul and never even sent a postcard back home - but gets labeled as good-for-nothing when all his hard work and efforts have been dedicated to his parents’ dream.
It’s sickening.
“I went to oversee the progress and what do I see?” his mother drones on, “holes. Hole-y leaves. You think this is a joke? Half our income goes to your brother’s tuition fees, young man. How am I going to support this family if you continue destroying crops after crops? Where do you think we can get the money?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“I expected better of you.”
“I’m sorry, mother.”
“Your brother was excellent in his studies. We wanted you to gain a bit of his influence, but what did you give us in return? Nothing.”
Apologies don’t matter now, so he saves his breath and concentrates on getting past this hurdle, tries to remember the feeling of freedom of running across the field and jumping over the mountain rock so he doesn’t have to experience the bucket of cold water pouring down his back.
“And you smell so strong of oil! You went to that man’s restaurant again didn’t you? I told you time and time again to stop frequenting that place and you never listen! Always off frolicking with weird people!”
Nothing lasts; nothing lasts, so this will all pass. Repeat after me, nothing lasts; nothing lasts, so this will all pass.
“Just go to your room, I don’t want to see you now.”
His mother waves him off, and all he can do is walk away numbly, and pretend that everything’s fine the moment he opens the bedroom door to see Chanyeol looking at him with concern.
“How’d it go?”
Baekhyun doesn’t bother replying before burying himself underneath his blanket to stop himself from crying.
“Baekhyun?” Something shakes him gently.
“Go away. Leave me alone.”
“Baekhyun.”
“Go away dufus.”
“At least don’t suffocate yourself to death.”
“Why do you even care? It’s none of your business.”
“Because- I- never mind, fine, be that way. Talk to me only when you’ve stopped being a child.”
What if I don’t want to talk? What if I just want to die? Major correction on plotting the graph of life today - life isn’t a cosine graph of ups and downs but an exponential graph of never-ending, ever increasing fuckery and sadness.
Ten minutes later, Baekhyun finally peels the blanket off his face to breathe in fresh air. Death by suffocation is too hard a plan to execute, anger and frustration just makes it worse to drown the discomfort building up in his only pair of lungs.
“Have you finally calmed down?” Chanyeol asks from his seat across the room, staring seriously at him.
“Not really.” But eventually will, he supposes.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Since when did you offer therapy sessions, counselor Park?” he bites back, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I was only trying to help,” Chanyeol mutters, “but obviously my good deeds are very much unappreciated, so if you’ll excuse me I’d like to go take a shower where I can ponder on why my best friend seems to like pushing away people who are worried about him so much.”
Okay, Baekhyun’s had enough jabs to his heart for one night. So, glaring fiercely at Mr Park, he jumps out of bed, throws open the window and in an act of momentary bravery, grabs the dufus’ hand and almost yanks him out of the window.
“Oi what the fuck?!”
“Shut up dufus. You’ll wake the whole neighbourhood.”
“I don’t want to die!”
“You’re not, idiot. We’re just going to sneak out.”
“Oh. Then why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
Idiot.
÷
“You sure I really won’t die?!” Chanyeol hollers two feet below Baekhyun’s sneakers.
“Yes you won’t! As long as you grab on tight and don’t fall off!!!”
“Oh god I should’ve known this was a bad idea.”
“Shut up, wuss.”
Baekhyun takes them both to the local hill five miles away, where they need to climb four feet of rocks just to reach the summit and feel the cool breeze. It’s a good spot for sunrise, for also the best for stargazing in the dead of the night.
He helps Chanyeol to safe grounds when the dufus reaches the top. While Chanyeol takes a moment to calm himself, Baekhyun takes in his surroundings and notes that it’s been too long since he’s been here. The night air is filled with a tinge of nostalgia and reminiscence and he cannot help but be overwhelmed by these emotions. It feels too heavy so he collapses onto the ground in a heap.
The sky is filled with a mixture of bright and fading stars tonight. It is a beautiful sight.
When Chanyeol stands up, the moonlight shines upon his face and illuminates his features. Baekhyun’s heart jiggles a little, he has never noticed how prominent Chanyeol’s cheekbones are when he smiles, and how his eyes reflect the soft luminescence by twinkling with wonder and excitement.
Somehow the darkness makes everything much more raw and beautifully honest. Even though Baekhyun can barely make out the pebbles lying by his side, the darkness gives him a sense of newly discovered courage, to speak and reach out for someone who probably won’t even remember him three years down the road when they’ve gone their separate ways.
So, he breathes in deeply and lets it all go.
“I come here when I’m upset. It’s like a personal haven of sorts.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah.”
He lets a few beats of silence pass before gathering his voice to speak again.
“I have a brother. His name is Baekbeom and he’s older than me by ten years. And you know what? I haven’t seen him in fifteen years. He never comes home.”
“Oh Baekhyun…” Large, pudgy fingers hold his tiny, slim ones in an attempt to comfort him.
“I don’t need your pity. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. But, I don’t know, in these fifteen years I just feel that you know, it’s not fair I’m stuck at home having to deal with shit while he’s away partying his ass off in Seoul. It’s not fair he gets the easy way out while I’m here trying my best to get past with life.”
“I’m sorry.” Chanyeol apologises sincerely, but Baekhyun scoffs and shakes his head.
“Why are you even sorry? It’s not your fault.” He pauses, struggling to find the right words, “to be honest, I’m jealous of you, you know? You get to live in the city. You get to experience so many things I won’t get to as long as I’m stuck here. You don’t have to deal with messed up families that probably put the Kardashians to shame.”
There, he’s said it. The cat’s out of the bag, the milk’s spilled onto the floor, but he feels this curious sense of lightness and elation that Chanyeol knows the truth now, that he’s an angsty emo kid on the inside who is so envious of the freedom others possess.
When Chanyeol speaks next, his voice sounds strangely strangled. “Was this the reason you hated me this much at the beginning?”
“Well, technically, yes. Also you looked as if you’d faint at the sight of cow manure.”
“Excuse you I see shit every morning okay.”
“Ew! Stop it! Too much information!”
“You would know!”
Baekhyun laughs. It starts out soft and quiet at the beginning, but when Chanyeol joins in and starts guffawing to high heaven, everything slips out of control and soon they become the laughing idiots scaring off the pedestrians in the dead of the night.
“Since we’re onto sob stories,” Chanyeol catches his breath for a moment, “I’ll tell mine.”
“Are you sure you even have one?”
The giant ignores the jab and continues to recite the legendary tale of Park Chanyeol.
“I was born an only child, but only because my mum- she’s a mistress.”
Baekhyun sits up immediately, eyes wide open.
“To be honest, I can’t remember much about my father, I always lived alone with my mum in a mansion somewhere, but all I know is that one day after my fifteenth birthday, my father came into the living room, took one look at me and told me I’m the next heir to Park Corporation. Like, dude, how fucked up is that? This man who I’ve never seen in my entire life coming up to me and telling me he owns my ass for the rest of my life? It’s stupid, so fucking stupid I get mad thinking about it. I mean, he pretty much knocked up my mum and left her in a big house alone with no love but money and then he stakes his claim on my ass, how could I not be?!”
“Oh my god, I never knew.”
“Of course not, nobody knows about it except for our godforsaken family. Some of my friends do, but when I first found out what my mum did I just… I think I shut down and closed myself off for two months.” And Park Chanyeol has the nerve to chuckle after announcing this! Blasphemous!
But Baekhyun says what is appropriate of this situation. He strokes the back of Chanyeol’s hand lightly and tries his best to comfort him. How ironic this situation is, just a few minutes ago he told the guy he didn’t need any pity at all.
“It must have been hard on you,” is all he manages to say.
“Well, can’t say it wasn’t, but that’s not the point. My point is, you can be sad about your life, but the world keeps on spinning, you know? It doesn’t wait for you, you can choose to be sad always but you’d be missing out on so many things, like how I wouldn’t be here if I continued decaying in destructive anger.”
“But it’s just so hard to not feel sad.”
“I know.” Chanyeol smiles sadly and reaches out to cup the shorter boy’s cheeks with both hands. A surge of warmth courses through his veins and suddenly, in the dark, everything falls, falls, falls into place and feels so, so right.
“I know it’s hard, but that’s why at the end, everything’s worth so much more.”
÷
You know what they say, in life when it rains, it pours. In Baekhyun’s graph of life (yes, the penis-shaped one, the exponential one doesn’t apply anymore), today’s storm is represented by an unsuspecting outlier in his graph paper that affects his expected results of harvesting crops and checking on the pumpkins.
Well, on the bright side, he doesn’t have to worry about watering the plants now at least.
Things progress awkwardly from that fateful night last week. They do not speak of the incident and always manage to sidestep gracefully any surprising actions (like fingertip-brushing or awkward staring) that come their way. It’s a good strategy to combat unwanted feelings threatening to break the newfound peace established a few weeks ago.
When the house is cleaned and mopped into spotless perfection, they find themselves sitting on the front porch looking at the rain.
It’s therapeutic. The white noise blocks every single thought in his mind until Chanyeol’s thunderous voice breaks the silence.
“I like you.”
…….
“Ah…” is all Baekhyun says.
Two beats of silence pass before Chanyeol tries again, the cheeriness a bit more forced this time.
“I said I like you, doesn’t that mean a thing to you?”
“I heard you the first time alright, you don’t have to repeat it.” Baekhyun unintentionally bites back.
He doesn’t need to see to know Chanyeol’s reaction next, because a moment later he can hear a sharp intake of breath before the wooden bench beneath them creaks and Chanyeol walks out into the rain.
“Chanyeol, where are you going?” Baekhyun calls. Said boy ignores him.
“Chanyeol?”
He seems to have no intention of turning back, and under pure pressure of panic attacks and anxiety, adrenaline pushes him forward to latch onto the taller boy’s arm before he disappears into the rain.
“Chanyeol.”
The rain is pouring, but Chanyeol says nothing, so Baekhyun takes the words out of their mouths and speaks for the both of them.
“It’s raining.”
’Tis the eyes of a man once hurt and shredded open, no tears, no feelings, only emptiness.
Two words may be more than one, but it is still not enough to placate the storm in his heart. The number of words spoken is useless when there is no sincerity, nothing behind letters strung together to form meaningless sentences - it’s pointless.
Baekhyun’s been there before. So this time, under the pouring rain, he looks at Chanyeol steadily in the eye and transforms into the soft glow that would light the way and guide them back home.
“Stay.”
÷
“You know Yeats once said ‘the only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart’.”
“Park Chanyeol, are you trying to seduce me with poetry?”
“Is it working?” Said man’s face glows with anticipation. Back to the present, he looks very much like a hopeful overgrown puppy, and Baekhyun can’t wait to crush that look and witness Chanyeol’s crestfallen expression. After all, he’s well-versed in the art of persuading Park Chanyeol to abandon ship and seek new ventures into different interests! It’s sadistic, but Chanyeol would know that it’s all in good humour.
“Of course not. Stop it, you suck.”
“Oi!”
“Okay fine, not as much as your first week here.”
Chanyeol scoffs, offended, but it lasts only for a fraction of a second before the atmosphere turns into one of pure endearment. Nothing lasts, so this will all pass. Tomorrow, the taxi will come to pick Chanyeol up to the airport, and Baekhyun will bid him goodbye at the house gate and watch all the way until the taxi has long disappeared into the horizon. There will be no tears, because they’ve promised the night before when they were curled up beside each other in the same bed, absorbing the very essence of each other to last them for however long it takes Byun Baekhyun to spread his wings and fly to Seoul.
“Will you miss this place?”
Chanyeol smiles, and intertwine their fingers together.
“We’ll see each other again.” He says with finality and conviction. It gives Baekhyun courage, and faith, that things will be fine. There is not a single doubt in his mind when he lays down his next promise and under the orange rays of the setting sun.
“Next time, I’ll be the one to find you.”
And then we’ll be one again.
One
Author: Anonymous until 1/30/14
For: parkourdeer
Pairing: Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Word Count: 7,929
Summary: They go backwards in time down memory lane. Baekhyun, Chanyeol and their summer of sentimentality.
Warnings: None
Rating: PG-13
One
There are a few things that come into Baekhyun’s mind at the sight of orange sunsets behind plain fields of green grass and golden corn. One, it’s still summer; two, he has to wake up at ass a.m the next morning to get ready for another day of field work, and three (this one dawns upon him just a few seconds ago); Chanyeol won’t be there to help him tomorrow.
The last one leaves him in a puddle of indescribable emotions. Leaning against the sturdy picket fence, it takes two blinks of large puppy eyes for him to turn around and stare at Mr 6’0 sitting on top of the fence.
Mr 6’0 stares back. They enter this weird moment of gauging each other’s reactions in complete silence until one of them decides to break the ice and climb up to the surface of the earth.
“What?” Mr 6’0 says, but not unkindly.
When Baekhyun speaks, he looks away to stare at the disappearing sun. It provides the atmosphere with much more sentimentality. That and because he can’t stand to look at the man he’s roomed with for three months while speaking about mushy, sentimental stuff.
“Remember the first time we met?”
Silence.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the correct question to ask. Baekhyun wouldn’t know since he’s not one for catching cues and judging appropriateness for times in need of suitability.
But then, a warm hand rests itself on his tiny shoulder, and Baekhyun lets out a long sigh he didn’t even know he was holding.
“How could I ever forget?” Park Chanyeol laughs, “of course I remember.”
And then, in a quieter voice, he continues.
“Of course I do.”
÷
The first time Baekhyun remembers seeing Park Chanyeol, he had been out in the vegetable patch at war with those pesky crop pests. He’s in the midst of saving their best tomatoes from greedy fat worms when his mother hollers his name from the family back door.
“BYUN BAEKHYUN!”
“Oh shit.” Said boy drops all cans of pesticide (approved by the Ministry of Health, don’t worry) instantly and sprints home. Whenever his mother shouts his name something has happened and if he doesn’t make it home in ten seconds flat he’d have to do the dishes that night despite working out in the patch for the entire afternoon.
The house seems relatively normal, no hurricane that blew the roof off, no black car outside the porch with CIA agents standing guard, but the moment Baekhyun bursts through the back door into the living room, things are definitely as normal as a man with eight heads could be.
It’s definitely not normal when you have a complete stranger standing ten feet away from you, donned in crisp clean clothes and smelling of expensive cologne (or was it soap? Baekhyun really doesn’t know). Dude, even his hair screams ‘expensive! rich bastard!’ because oh gosh it looks so shiny and poofy and to be painfully honest Baekhyun really wants so desperately to stroke that mop of mushroom hair this instant.
But anyways, Mr 6’0’s presence has disrupted the serenity of his living room - his house - and such an occurrence is unacceptable. At the sight of Mr 6’0’s thousand watt smile and blinding pearly whites, Baekhyun’s gut tells him he’s not, and never going to like this guy.
“Baekhyun,” his mother addresses him sweetly, something she has never done since third grade (something is up), “this is Park Chanyeol.”
Park Chanyeol. Baekhyun eyes that duffel bag on the floor that is probably worth more than his entire closet of garments in his room. It’s crisp new and the black leather smelled of expensive textile made in multi-billion factories in the industry area.
“Say hello, Baekhyun.” His mother prompts. Baekhyun stares at Mr Park sullenly and mutters his greetings audible enough for the pitiful bacteria living in the carpet to hear. Mr Park’s smile has yet to fade though. His pearly whites emit a glow so strong it irks Baekhyun and grates on his nerves like shredding swiss cheese through the goddamned malfunctioning paper shredder. Vroom, vroom, vrooooooooooo-fuck it all.
“Chanyeol is on a homestay programme and will be staying with us for the summer, dear. He’ll take Baekbeom’s bed and you two can get to know each other better!”
“What? B-But hyung’s bed is in my room.” So pathetic, he’s spluttering in front of a stranger and oh shit he just got the evil eye from his own mother. In front of a stranger. Great. Awesome way to start their very own symbiosis that will last for the next three months.
“Baekhyun,” Mrs. Byun clears her throat loudly, “now be a good boy and show Chanyeol to his bed. Then you can take him on a tour around the house and show him our vegetable patch! Run along now, I have to go see Mrs. Kim for the Pumpkin Festival preparations.”
She leaves them to continue their staring showdown until Chanyeol of all breathing organisms in the room breaks the silence. Damn it, Baekhyun was hoping the venus flytrap would say something first.
“I’m Chanyeol, 92-liner.” Chanyeol flashes his pearly whites again and waves like the insufferable idiot he probably is, “it’s nice to meet you.”
“Baekhyun, same.” And I don’t like you.
“Can you show me where to put my things?” he’s still smiling stupidly.
“Yeah. This way.”
They climb upstairs until they reach the attic. Baekhyun stands by the doorway, giving Chanyeol enough girth and points at the dusty bed at the furthest end of the room.
“That’s my hyung’s bed. He’s studying in Seoul now but he never comes back anyway. Toilet’s down the corridor to your left, kitchen and sitting room are downstairs. Touch my things and you die. I gotta go do work now, see you during dinner at seven.”
Without another word, he closes the door, squashes the pang of guilt throbbing in his chest flat on the ground and marches back to the veggie patch to collect the pesticide he’s left forgotten on the ground.
And this is the first day of how Byun Baekhyun met Park Chanyeol.
÷
After that fateful encounter, they don’t exchange words for the rest of the day. Even during dinner, when Baekhyun’s parents were so preoccupied with the temporary addition to their family, Baekhyun only sits beside the idiot and miserably picks on his vegetables and rice. The only things he picks up from the conversation he’s been left out on are stupid alien phrases such as ‘summer programme’, ‘looked interesting’ and ‘really excited’.
All the meat has been dumped into their guest’s rice bowl, and Baekhyun is left with nothing but those tiny flakes and pieces of bak choy that no one in the family wants or even likes.
Bleh, talk about unfair treatment.
“So what about Baekhyun-ssi?”
Wha? Said boy lifts his head from his rice bowl to find the entire table staring at him with expectant eyes. He blinks.
“Um…”
“Chanyeollie just asked you what your favourite pastime is, were you not listening?”
Oh so just less than a day and we’re onto pet names now, aren’t we?
“I… um, I don’t know, breathing?”
His parents’ expressions transform from expectant to flat out disappointment in less than three seconds. It stings his heart but hey, shouldn’t he be used to it by now? What difference would another addition to the family make anyway? Why should Baekhyun let it affect him so much?
“That’s so cool!” Chanyeol exclaims from the sidelines, blissfully unaware of the current situation the conversation has turned into.
When silence befalls on the table, it’s so unbearably awkward Baekhyun simply cannot stand the scrutiny of his parents any longer. So, he finishes whatever that is in his bowl and stands up to leave.
“You know what, I’m not hungry today. Thanks for the food, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
Stupid Chanyeol, stupid parents, he grits his teeth when he’s in the showers busy scrubbing the sweat out of his skin, god knows what crimes he’s committed in his past life to land in such a stupid family.
But the one thing god forgot, Baekhyun thinks as he returns to his room to see Chanyeol sitting by the table scribbling something down (probably his diary, that childish wuss), was to put Park Chanyeol as far away as possible from him out of his life. At the sound of the door creaking shut, the dufus looks up from his diary and smiles.
“Hey, everything okay?”
Funny, that sounds like something he should be saying instead of his guest. Subtly rolling his eyes, he ignores the oaf and crawls under the covers of his bed. It’s no harm wanting some personal space to be alone, so Baekhyun closes his eyes and pretends to not hear the shuffling of papers and footsteps heading out of the room. When the lights are switched off, Baekhyun re-emerges from his blanket to inspect his surroundings.
Even during summer, the wind is relentless and bites into his skin. At the sight of the empty chair pushed into the table, the room turns ten degrees colder, painted in shades of blues of loneliness.
Frustrated, Baekhyun goes back to sleep in the most miserable state he’d ever been in.
÷
The next morning, an hour before dawn breaks, Baekhyun is already up and carting boxes of leafy greens and tomatoes to the wet market. At the sight of their stall, his mother is already there, waiting for him with crossed arms and an even crosser look on her ugly face.
“Where’s Chanyeollie?”
Ugh.
“He’s exhausted so he’s sleeping in.” Baekhyun lies blank-face while arranging the vegetables on the counter accordingly. After spreading enough ice to keep them sexy veggies fresh, he proceeds to ignore the old woman’s squabbling with their neighbor stall, sits on the stool by the cash counter and waits for the customers to trickle in one by one the moment the clock strikes six.
It’s early, and the cold war with his unwelcomed guest has drained whatever little energy he usually preserves for frustrating, tiresome days like this. Maybe if he ignores Park Chanyeol for the rest of the week the tall dufus might actually go back to Seoul crying for his mummy! This could potentially develop into a strategic plan to combat stupidity!
Baekhyun wonders why the hell did he sign up for countryside life in the first place. If he were given the chance, he’d like very much to get away from this insufferable place and start afresh someplace new, alone, where his efforts to contribute to society would be appreciated at least by the stray cats he picks up from litter boxes and garbage cans. It must be so wonderful to live in the city where everything is proper and organized and all he has to do is work for a living.
“When we get back,” he vaguely hears his mother cooing at the back, “we’ll cook a breakfast extravaganza to commemorate Chanyeollie’s first night at home!”
Oh god.
÷
They didn’t become best friends immediately. Granted it took a while, but the process of washing away the prejudice and jealousy was painfully slow and tremendously vexing. Baekhyun doesn’t even utter a single syllable to his guest; for three entire weeks and counting he pretty much just bathes himself in a sea of rage, occasionally emerging from beneath the waves to spit the choking bitterness at poor unsuspecting trespassers.
It is horribly unhealthy, Baekhyun thinks he’s aged a decade and accumulated a lifetime’s supply of toxins in his liver from all the bitterness.
“So where are we going today?” Chanyeol chirps, long legs catching up effortlessly with an emoting Baekhyun who tried ditching the taller boy two minutes ago.
A tiresome, vexing week has passed. Chanyeol seems to latch onto Baekhyun like the latter dispenses candy on an hourly basis, which is obviously quite the opposite because if Baekhyun were to dispense anything it would be poisoned apples instead of sweet confections. After the first day, Chanyeol seems to have gotten Baekhyun’s daily schedule memorized down to a T and has taken it upon his personal mission to annoy the crap out of him. Mid-morning when Baekhyun had just arrived home from selling veggies in town this morning, Chanyeol was already seated in front of the kitchen table, jotting down every single molecule that moved around him in his diary. Truth be told, it pisses Baekhyun off to think that a stranger could just easily break the ranks of the household and claim an honorary spot at the dinner table.
Where are them poisoned apples when you need them?!
Speaking of apples, tis’ the season to pick them half-ripe apples and ship them all the way to Southeast Asia. Apple Summer Season is close by and it’s almost time to send two barrels to Taeyeon’s so she can reward his services with some yummy awesome applesauce.
So, under the watchful eye of Mrs. Byun, Baekhyun drives the mini truck to the gate so Chanyeollie wouldn’t have to dirty his shoes by stepping on wet, slick mud. They drive past two yards of ripening wheat, windows wound down so the wind would drive away the summer heat and musky smell of old leather and stop suffocating them to death.
Baekhyun takes perverse pleasure in witnessing Chanyeol’s bangs slapping against his sweaty face. It is a glorious sight to behold.
“This is so fun!” The dufus exclaims, laughter rippling through longitudinal waves of air molecules and sound particles.
Pfft, fun. Wait till they crash into a tree and die. Baekhyun would have the time of his life smoking cloud puffs in heaven while watching Chanyeol slave away in hell.
When the BYUN ORCHARD 3KM signboard whizzes past them, Chanyeol engages in real-time hyperventilation and oohs and aahs at every single tree that passes by.
To save his sanity, Baekhyun kills the engine at a corner closest to the apple trees and dumps a large basket in front of an extremely excited Chanyeol. His toothy grin is infectious, but Baekhyun has an immune system that works perfectly well against stupidity so.
“Pick only the ripe and half-ripe ones. I trust you know how to pick apples?”
“The stem!” Chanyeol beams, as if he didn’t know Baekhyun caught him googling how to pluck apples when he drove the truck out of the driveway.
“Meet back here at five. This place is 2 acres large, good luck. You’ll need it when you face the red ants.”
HE’s only kidding, the red ant problem isn’t as bad as that time when his mom went crazy and planted two trees of lychee in their front yard. Oh god, that was the nastiest period ever. The red ants were really no joke.
But still, Chanyeol is a persistent cockroach. He only embarks on his own quest to gather five apples before coming back to tail after Baekhyun like that overgrown puppy he is. At first it was fine, until his creepy stares got too much for Baekhyun to handle and attempts to shake him off were futile.
After the second row of trees, Baekhyun’s thinning patience snaps.
“Okay, what exactly is your problem?!” he whips around to face the giant dufus smiling happily at him, as if this moment of recognition was worth the amount of cold shoulders Baekhyun gave him for a week.
“You’re really cute when you work.”
O’ god, bless the cows because that is not something one would say to a person who hates you with a burning passion.
“E-Excuse me?”
“Your eyebrows scrunch up together like a unibrow when you’re concentrating, and you missed a lot of apples because you’re so focused on getting rid of me.” Chanyeol paints an angelic smile across his lips.
“Gee, if you knew I didn’t want you around, you could’ve done us both a favour and go do your own thing.”
But the smile on Chanyeol’s stupid face remains as he says, “oh but then you and I would be missing this,” he slides the basket strap off his shoulders and produces a quarter of apples Baekhyun thought he already plucked.
Damn. Burn. That motherfucker.
“And this,” Chanyeol takes one step forward and easily reaches for a lonely apple on the branch above Baekhyun’s head.
It takes Baekhyun ten seconds to realize that Chanyeol is holding out the apple for him to claim and put it in his own basket. Affronted, Baekhyun scoffs and turns away.
“You can have it.”
Chanyeol shrugs, like it was no big deal that he has just won their first argument - their first real conversation - over an apple. Well, technically it isn’t a big deal, shouldn’t be, but Baekhyun likes keeping scores with his enemies so ever point matters.
“Wait-”
But by the time Baekhyun turns around, Chanyeol is way past hearing distance, disappearing into another area of greenery before Baekhyun could chuck the damned apple onto his head.
It’s not the close proximity two minutes ago that leaves him stunned and speechless, but it’s the way the air smells of chanyeol after the taller boy walked away. The scent that lingers behind isn’t anything striking and strong, a bit of sweat if one were to concentrate very hard, but distinct enough to sprinkle its magic and let the summer air blow into the dusty corner of his heart.
And later, when his watch strikes five, Baekhyun rounds up his final few trees and makes his way to the truck. They both reach at the same time, and Chanyeol has plucked a considerable amount that could potentially rival his own. Baekhyun is mildly impressed, but swallows the sarcastic praise and opts for a silent drive home instead.
÷
The (onesided) Cold War wages on for the next two weeks, until one of them hits their breaking point because things do not get better unless the worst hits, and they certainly do not go up unless they’ve hit rock bottom.
Surprisingly, Baekhyun is the one who stays sane while he watches Chanyeol break down quietly when he thought no one was looking.
It had been a tiring morning. It was Chanyeol’s second time helping out at the wet market, and the ahjummas (at least, the ones who didn’t coo over his height and how handsome and perfect he’d be for their stupid daughters) had bullied him into dispensing discounts left right up down everywhere. And Baekhyun, after realizing what on earth was going on, sort of… well he didn’t blow up there and then of course but let’s just say everything progressed downhill from there.
In his defence, he has been experiencing weird things lately, 99.9% of it all centered on their household guest invading every train of his thoughts. Unacceptable, he had decided a week ago, Baekhyun would have to make up for the lack of Chanyeol-hate by being extra aggressive to him during the day.
But in retrospect, as he stands by the kitchen window and witnesses Chanyeol wiping away his tears, Baekhyun thinks maybe he’s gone too far this time. After all, it really wasn’t their fault an ahjumma got away with getting her two baskets of leafy greens at half price.
So, in a good act of momentary kindness, he closes the kitchen door behind him and approaches the sniffing teen quietly and takes a seat beside him.
The cruel wave of sadness and sobs subside eventually, but the sniffling remains. Baekhyun doesn’t dare turn his head to face those tear-stricken cheeks because lord, it would be on a motherfucking suicide mission to increase his guilt tenfold should his eyes wander to witness red puffy cheeks and a blotchy nose. Awkwardness is better; let it eat up the guilt and digest its remains till they disappear.
They sit there in awkward silence for another five minutes, until god decided to grace Byun Baekhyun’s mind with a stupendous idea.
“Are you hungry? I know a great place for lunch.”
÷
Ryeowook’s Kitchen and Foods is, as its name suggests, a house-converted eatery that serves only the freshest salmon steak topped with teriyaki sauce and a sprinkle of lemon juice. And scrambled eggs. One cannot forget the fluffy scrambled eggs that are available all day long because screw standard breakfast; egg is a classic meal that deserves to be on every page of the menu instead of the breakfast page only.
When the swinging door creaks open, the waft of oil and cooked poultry smacks them right in the face and everyone is a hungry man instantly.
Baekhyun takes his usual seat by the window (closest to constant source of fresh air) and signals Chanyeol (gangly limbs and all) to sit opposite him.
“Yah Do Kyungsoo!”
Tiny boy emerges behind the counter and makes his way to the only patrons seated in the dining hall. “Oh it’s you. Bastard. Stop putting tabs on the house, we’re almost broke.” He mutters.
Baekhyun ignores the unsubtle jab and starts spewing alien to recount the apples he gave them for free and how it should guarantee him an honorary spot on the eat-for-free members list. He also unkindly mentions how he saved Do Kyungsoo’s life by finding him food, shelter and a job in this very restaurant they’re currently in.
“Blackmail.”
“Not really. The usual please.”
Kyungsoo nods, and looks at a very awestruck Chanyeol flipping through the battered menu and most probably mentally salivating at every food picture display.
“Friend of Baekhyun’s?” he implores, thick bushy eyebrows raised five meters above his large eyes.
“Exchange programme student.” The farm boy corrects hastily.
“Ahhh… So what will Mr. Exchange Programme Student have today?”
When Chanyeol neglects to answer, clearly perplexed at the numerous choices offered, Baekhyun sighs quietly and dictates his orders.
“Just get him today’s special. And scrambled eggs, extra fluffy please.”
“Will do.”
Alas, the silence creeps back on them and steals whatever conversation topic they could have had. While Chanyeol takes in the homely décor of the restaurant, Baekhyun switches between gazing at the meadow outside and observing his guest’s big eyes. He looks so amazed Baekhyun wonders if checkered cloth restaurants actually exist in the big city for dumb people like Chanyeol to ogle at.
Or maybe this is just Park Chanyeol’s default reaction to everything he sees in the countryside. Noob.
(But seriously, Baekhyun is still jealous over the fact that Chanyeol got to live in the city, and the stupid boy abandoned his comfort zone for three months just to suffer in the countryside! Preposterous!)
“Are you feeling better now?” Baekhyun asks out of politeness.
“Not really.”
“Oh god, pray tell, why?”
“You talk to other people, but you still hate me.”
“Is your lifelong mission by chance to get everyone you meet in life to like you?”
“S-Sort of.”
Baekhyun throws his hands up in defeat.
It’s an even funnier sight when the food actually arrives. Baekhyun has to politely wait for Chanyeol to tuck in before he starts chowing down on his fillet, but all said guest does is stare at the yellow fluffy mush in front of him like he’s never seen goddamned eggs in his whole life.
“Eat.” Baekhyun frowned.
Chanyeol shoots him an unsure look. Baekhyun kind of wants to slap him there and then.
“It’s not poisoned! Jesus. I swear on my holy stash of SNSD porn, okay?”
The tall kid visibly gulps before taking a bite of his meal. The reaction is instantaneous. His face lights up into a thousand suns and Baekhyun swears he saw tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes.
Converted.
So much better than finding a new religion.
“This stuff is good.” Is all Chanyeol says. They don’t talk for the next ten minutes because Chanyeol simply goes not have time for it, his face is stuffed with food like a starved man gone hungry for weeks and Baekhyun had to order another glass of water in case Chanyeol chokes on a bone and dies.
But if he were honest, it’s a bit endearing to see the blissful look on the dufus’ face. He looks quite adorable, and nope Baekhyun did not just go there he did not just cross the border of the Shadowlands to the Island of Chanyeol Appreciation nope abort, abort mission abort!
“Do you not want to eat?” Chanyeol asks, pudgy finger pointing at the already-cold salmon on his plate, “Because if you don’t, it’d be nice to have seconds.”
“You ingrate, get your own second helpings.”
÷
When they walk back home together after a hearty meal, Baekhyun gathers his wits and whatever courage he has left in his balls and addresses the unresolved issue of Chanyeol’s sadness again. He really would like some closure on this matter, considering it was somewhat his fault Chanyeol got sad and cries (like a girl) in the first place.
“So,” he tries again, “are you feeling better now?”
From the corner of his vision, Chanyeol beams radiantly.
“Yes!”
Oh god, the happiness is contagious. Baekhyun jams down the corner of his lips and maintains his default expression with much difficulty.
“Oh really? That’s good.” And in the next moment he just had to be the stupid fuck and add unnecessary bullshit that causes his doom, “It’s the food, isn’t it?”
“Nope, wait, sort of, but mostly because you smiled at me the moment we started eating.”
÷
If Baekhyun were to plot a graph for his horrible life, it would look like a never-ending cosine graph. He’s far from being a math genius, but it doesn’t take one to know that cosine graphs always curve down before going up before preparing to curve down again.
The variables of the equation (representing life here) would represent the number of hardships and difficulties in life, and he’d damn say it would be a motherfucking sky high number because his life graph would then resemble a somewhat deformed penis, and that’s saying something because life is always a dick, period.
And if he were to mark his current standing on his penis life graph today, he’d be optimistic and plot them points on the rising part of the line.
Reason unknown, but fuck it all mathematics never needed one to work since the birth of time.
It’s two months into Chanyeol’s stay, and one month until the dufus would go away. Baekhyun is happy; he can go back to being alone again without having to worry over Chanyeol’s wellbeing and state of mind everyday. Finding interesting things to do every waking moment just for the sake of one person is a very tiresome job.
“Where are we going today?” Puppy!Chanyeol wags his imaginary tail excitedly and shoots Baekhyun a smile so full of hope and anticipation.
“I don’t know, plant pumpkin seeds? Check on the tomatoes?”
“COOOOOOOOOL!!!!”
How is that cool?!?! Everyday, Baekhyun questions Chanyeol-Logic. He is so easily excited by anything and everything Baekhyun didn’t know such a creature existed in this world. His immunity to stupidity is weakening day and day and this is certainly not a good thing! Park Chanyeol needs to be gone before Baekhyun succumbs to the deadly infectious happy virus!
Lunch at Ryeowook’s has turned into a daily requirement. Baekhyun grew sick of salmon and chicken within the first week, so he alternates between the different selections of salads (fruit, Caesar, egg) and their soup of the day. He has to watch his weight lest face the dire consequences of a fat belly. Baekhyun is not Chanyeol, he’s definitely not a chowing machine that never grows in the wrong places. Bamboo stick, Baekhyun once called him, but Chanyeol seemed to take every insult he dishes out with pride so after a few calls Baekhyun stopped and the insults pretty much died down.
“Whoa, slow down, the food won’t go anywhere.”
“Your fries are getting cold.” Ugh, the sight of half-chewed potatoes is enough for Baekhyun to push his plate towards the dufus.
“Don’t you ever grow fat?”
“Don’t you ever grow tall?”
“Fuck you.”
“Save it for our next date.”
He spat out his rice.
“What?!”
“Only joking.”
……
“Say, can I ask you something?”
“Idiot, you just did.”
Chanyeol rolled his eyes, it’s a rare sight to behold. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Baekkie…”
“Ewww! Stop. Fine, go ahead and ask, but never, never call me that again.”
The dufus pauses for dramatic effect, swallows his food (Baekhyun has to look away for a moment, Chanyeol’s neck is very distracting) and grins.
“So what are we now? Where would you place us on the global map during World War I?”
Baekhyun stops chewing for a moment, chopsticks held midair. The air around them intensifies until all that’s left is stagnated breaths waiting for the cold to pass so they can start dripping again.
“Frenemies.” The farm boy declares, “Switzerland.”
“Neutral parties.”
Baekhyun nods gravely.
“But you just said we’re frenemies, Switzerland wasn’t a frenemy to any country that tried to blast each other off. Pick one. Friends or enemies?”
Chanyeol’s eyes are so sincere that it burns a door into Baekhyun’s soul. He can’t stand this intense staring showdown so he ducks headfirst and focuses on his unfinished bowl of rice.
In an empty corner of Ryeowook’s Kitchen & Foods, it dawns upon him that the sweltering heat of summer has nothing to do with the temperature rising up his neck at this very moment. It’s something more, most probably related the weird dreams he’s been having at night (about him and Chanyeol walking down the garden lane at night, alone, and something alone those mushy lines), and probably the reason he can’t seem to find his voice box to utter the words rolling at the tip of his tongue waiting to be said.
So, instead of his usual tone, all that comes out is a soft, cowardly quiet sound that Baekhyun utterly hates.
“It’s complicated,” is all he says, and the rest of dinner goes by at the dreadful pace of a snail race.
÷
The calm before the storm passes in a flash, suddenly the afternoon is gone, and they only reach home after sunset.
The moment he sets foot into the house, Baekhyun knows by experience something is wrong. His gut lurches, and suddenly he feels like vomiting everything he ate at Ryeowook’s.
“Welcome home, Chanyeol. And Baekhyun.” His mother is suspiciously calm, legs crossed over the footstool as she regards them with dangerous eyes full of exploding threats.
“Chanyeollie, I need to talk to Baekhyun, so if you would be so kind to excuse yourself, I’d very much appreciate the privacy.”
Fuck. Chanyeol must have witnessed the colour draining from his face, because when he passed by Baekhyun he subtly brushes their fingers together before disappearing upstairs.
In an instant, the sickeningly sweet voice is gone and Baekhyun braces himself for the heavy impact of cold, skin-cutting words. There’s no stopping this crash and he’ll be damned if he falls and dies at this shitty place.
“Where were you this afternoon?” she deadpans.
“We planted pumpkin seeds. And then checked on the tomatoes.”
“Did you forget that the cabbage patch ever existed-”
Oh fuck.
“-because your face now tells me you did.”
“I’m sorry.” He apologises as sincerely as he can.
“Sorry won’t bring back the crops that were destroyed by your neglect.” His mother buries her face into her hands, shaking her head and sighing heavily. Baekhyun hates it, he hates that she makes him feel like a piece of shit, that he’s not and will never be good enough and better than Baekbeom, it’s just not fair that his hyung is off in the city having the time of his life while he is here, stuck in this hellhole slaving away for a family that appreciates a stranger more than their own flesh and blood.
It’s just not fair how he’s never been the bright son - the son who got a scholarship to some unknown university in Seoul and never even sent a postcard back home - but gets labeled as good-for-nothing when all his hard work and efforts have been dedicated to his parents’ dream.
It’s sickening.
“I went to oversee the progress and what do I see?” his mother drones on, “holes. Hole-y leaves. You think this is a joke? Half our income goes to your brother’s tuition fees, young man. How am I going to support this family if you continue destroying crops after crops? Where do you think we can get the money?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“I expected better of you.”
“I’m sorry, mother.”
“Your brother was excellent in his studies. We wanted you to gain a bit of his influence, but what did you give us in return? Nothing.”
Apologies don’t matter now, so he saves his breath and concentrates on getting past this hurdle, tries to remember the feeling of freedom of running across the field and jumping over the mountain rock so he doesn’t have to experience the bucket of cold water pouring down his back.
“And you smell so strong of oil! You went to that man’s restaurant again didn’t you? I told you time and time again to stop frequenting that place and you never listen! Always off frolicking with weird people!”
Nothing lasts; nothing lasts, so this will all pass. Repeat after me, nothing lasts; nothing lasts, so this will all pass.
“Just go to your room, I don’t want to see you now.”
His mother waves him off, and all he can do is walk away numbly, and pretend that everything’s fine the moment he opens the bedroom door to see Chanyeol looking at him with concern.
“How’d it go?”
Baekhyun doesn’t bother replying before burying himself underneath his blanket to stop himself from crying.
“Baekhyun?” Something shakes him gently.
“Go away. Leave me alone.”
“Baekhyun.”
“Go away dufus.”
“At least don’t suffocate yourself to death.”
“Why do you even care? It’s none of your business.”
“Because- I- never mind, fine, be that way. Talk to me only when you’ve stopped being a child.”
What if I don’t want to talk? What if I just want to die? Major correction on plotting the graph of life today - life isn’t a cosine graph of ups and downs but an exponential graph of never-ending, ever increasing fuckery and sadness.
Ten minutes later, Baekhyun finally peels the blanket off his face to breathe in fresh air. Death by suffocation is too hard a plan to execute, anger and frustration just makes it worse to drown the discomfort building up in his only pair of lungs.
“Have you finally calmed down?” Chanyeol asks from his seat across the room, staring seriously at him.
“Not really.” But eventually will, he supposes.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Since when did you offer therapy sessions, counselor Park?” he bites back, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I was only trying to help,” Chanyeol mutters, “but obviously my good deeds are very much unappreciated, so if you’ll excuse me I’d like to go take a shower where I can ponder on why my best friend seems to like pushing away people who are worried about him so much.”
Okay, Baekhyun’s had enough jabs to his heart for one night. So, glaring fiercely at Mr Park, he jumps out of bed, throws open the window and in an act of momentary bravery, grabs the dufus’ hand and almost yanks him out of the window.
“Oi what the fuck?!”
“Shut up dufus. You’ll wake the whole neighbourhood.”
“I don’t want to die!”
“You’re not, idiot. We’re just going to sneak out.”
“Oh. Then why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
Idiot.
÷
“You sure I really won’t die?!” Chanyeol hollers two feet below Baekhyun’s sneakers.
“Yes you won’t! As long as you grab on tight and don’t fall off!!!”
“Oh god I should’ve known this was a bad idea.”
“Shut up, wuss.”
Baekhyun takes them both to the local hill five miles away, where they need to climb four feet of rocks just to reach the summit and feel the cool breeze. It’s a good spot for sunrise, for also the best for stargazing in the dead of the night.
He helps Chanyeol to safe grounds when the dufus reaches the top. While Chanyeol takes a moment to calm himself, Baekhyun takes in his surroundings and notes that it’s been too long since he’s been here. The night air is filled with a tinge of nostalgia and reminiscence and he cannot help but be overwhelmed by these emotions. It feels too heavy so he collapses onto the ground in a heap.
The sky is filled with a mixture of bright and fading stars tonight. It is a beautiful sight.
When Chanyeol stands up, the moonlight shines upon his face and illuminates his features. Baekhyun’s heart jiggles a little, he has never noticed how prominent Chanyeol’s cheekbones are when he smiles, and how his eyes reflect the soft luminescence by twinkling with wonder and excitement.
Somehow the darkness makes everything much more raw and beautifully honest. Even though Baekhyun can barely make out the pebbles lying by his side, the darkness gives him a sense of newly discovered courage, to speak and reach out for someone who probably won’t even remember him three years down the road when they’ve gone their separate ways.
So, he breathes in deeply and lets it all go.
“I come here when I’m upset. It’s like a personal haven of sorts.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah.”
He lets a few beats of silence pass before gathering his voice to speak again.
“I have a brother. His name is Baekbeom and he’s older than me by ten years. And you know what? I haven’t seen him in fifteen years. He never comes home.”
“Oh Baekhyun…” Large, pudgy fingers hold his tiny, slim ones in an attempt to comfort him.
“I don’t need your pity. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. But, I don’t know, in these fifteen years I just feel that you know, it’s not fair I’m stuck at home having to deal with shit while he’s away partying his ass off in Seoul. It’s not fair he gets the easy way out while I’m here trying my best to get past with life.”
“I’m sorry.” Chanyeol apologises sincerely, but Baekhyun scoffs and shakes his head.
“Why are you even sorry? It’s not your fault.” He pauses, struggling to find the right words, “to be honest, I’m jealous of you, you know? You get to live in the city. You get to experience so many things I won’t get to as long as I’m stuck here. You don’t have to deal with messed up families that probably put the Kardashians to shame.”
There, he’s said it. The cat’s out of the bag, the milk’s spilled onto the floor, but he feels this curious sense of lightness and elation that Chanyeol knows the truth now, that he’s an angsty emo kid on the inside who is so envious of the freedom others possess.
When Chanyeol speaks next, his voice sounds strangely strangled. “Was this the reason you hated me this much at the beginning?”
“Well, technically, yes. Also you looked as if you’d faint at the sight of cow manure.”
“Excuse you I see shit every morning okay.”
“Ew! Stop it! Too much information!”
“You would know!”
Baekhyun laughs. It starts out soft and quiet at the beginning, but when Chanyeol joins in and starts guffawing to high heaven, everything slips out of control and soon they become the laughing idiots scaring off the pedestrians in the dead of the night.
“Since we’re onto sob stories,” Chanyeol catches his breath for a moment, “I’ll tell mine.”
“Are you sure you even have one?”
The giant ignores the jab and continues to recite the legendary tale of Park Chanyeol.
“I was born an only child, but only because my mum- she’s a mistress.”
Baekhyun sits up immediately, eyes wide open.
“To be honest, I can’t remember much about my father, I always lived alone with my mum in a mansion somewhere, but all I know is that one day after my fifteenth birthday, my father came into the living room, took one look at me and told me I’m the next heir to Park Corporation. Like, dude, how fucked up is that? This man who I’ve never seen in my entire life coming up to me and telling me he owns my ass for the rest of my life? It’s stupid, so fucking stupid I get mad thinking about it. I mean, he pretty much knocked up my mum and left her in a big house alone with no love but money and then he stakes his claim on my ass, how could I not be?!”
“Oh my god, I never knew.”
“Of course not, nobody knows about it except for our godforsaken family. Some of my friends do, but when I first found out what my mum did I just… I think I shut down and closed myself off for two months.” And Park Chanyeol has the nerve to chuckle after announcing this! Blasphemous!
But Baekhyun says what is appropriate of this situation. He strokes the back of Chanyeol’s hand lightly and tries his best to comfort him. How ironic this situation is, just a few minutes ago he told the guy he didn’t need any pity at all.
“It must have been hard on you,” is all he manages to say.
“Well, can’t say it wasn’t, but that’s not the point. My point is, you can be sad about your life, but the world keeps on spinning, you know? It doesn’t wait for you, you can choose to be sad always but you’d be missing out on so many things, like how I wouldn’t be here if I continued decaying in destructive anger.”
“But it’s just so hard to not feel sad.”
“I know.” Chanyeol smiles sadly and reaches out to cup the shorter boy’s cheeks with both hands. A surge of warmth courses through his veins and suddenly, in the dark, everything falls, falls, falls into place and feels so, so right.
“I know it’s hard, but that’s why at the end, everything’s worth so much more.”
÷
You know what they say, in life when it rains, it pours. In Baekhyun’s graph of life (yes, the penis-shaped one, the exponential one doesn’t apply anymore), today’s storm is represented by an unsuspecting outlier in his graph paper that affects his expected results of harvesting crops and checking on the pumpkins.
Well, on the bright side, he doesn’t have to worry about watering the plants now at least.
Things progress awkwardly from that fateful night last week. They do not speak of the incident and always manage to sidestep gracefully any surprising actions (like fingertip-brushing or awkward staring) that come their way. It’s a good strategy to combat unwanted feelings threatening to break the newfound peace established a few weeks ago.
When the house is cleaned and mopped into spotless perfection, they find themselves sitting on the front porch looking at the rain.
It’s therapeutic. The white noise blocks every single thought in his mind until Chanyeol’s thunderous voice breaks the silence.
“I like you.”
…….
“Ah…” is all Baekhyun says.
Two beats of silence pass before Chanyeol tries again, the cheeriness a bit more forced this time.
“I said I like you, doesn’t that mean a thing to you?”
“I heard you the first time alright, you don’t have to repeat it.” Baekhyun unintentionally bites back.
He doesn’t need to see to know Chanyeol’s reaction next, because a moment later he can hear a sharp intake of breath before the wooden bench beneath them creaks and Chanyeol walks out into the rain.
“Chanyeol, where are you going?” Baekhyun calls. Said boy ignores him.
“Chanyeol?”
He seems to have no intention of turning back, and under pure pressure of panic attacks and anxiety, adrenaline pushes him forward to latch onto the taller boy’s arm before he disappears into the rain.
“Chanyeol.”
The rain is pouring, but Chanyeol says nothing, so Baekhyun takes the words out of their mouths and speaks for the both of them.
“It’s raining.”
’Tis the eyes of a man once hurt and shredded open, no tears, no feelings, only emptiness.
Two words may be more than one, but it is still not enough to placate the storm in his heart. The number of words spoken is useless when there is no sincerity, nothing behind letters strung together to form meaningless sentences - it’s pointless.
Baekhyun’s been there before. So this time, under the pouring rain, he looks at Chanyeol steadily in the eye and transforms into the soft glow that would light the way and guide them back home.
“Stay.”
÷
“You know Yeats once said ‘the only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart’.”
“Park Chanyeol, are you trying to seduce me with poetry?”
“Is it working?” Said man’s face glows with anticipation. Back to the present, he looks very much like a hopeful overgrown puppy, and Baekhyun can’t wait to crush that look and witness Chanyeol’s crestfallen expression. After all, he’s well-versed in the art of persuading Park Chanyeol to abandon ship and seek new ventures into different interests! It’s sadistic, but Chanyeol would know that it’s all in good humour.
“Of course not. Stop it, you suck.”
“Oi!”
“Okay fine, not as much as your first week here.”
Chanyeol scoffs, offended, but it lasts only for a fraction of a second before the atmosphere turns into one of pure endearment. Nothing lasts, so this will all pass. Tomorrow, the taxi will come to pick Chanyeol up to the airport, and Baekhyun will bid him goodbye at the house gate and watch all the way until the taxi has long disappeared into the horizon. There will be no tears, because they’ve promised the night before when they were curled up beside each other in the same bed, absorbing the very essence of each other to last them for however long it takes Byun Baekhyun to spread his wings and fly to Seoul.
“Will you miss this place?”
Chanyeol smiles, and intertwine their fingers together.
“We’ll see each other again.” He says with finality and conviction. It gives Baekhyun courage, and faith, that things will be fine. There is not a single doubt in his mind when he lays down his next promise and under the orange rays of the setting sun.
“Next time, I’ll be the one to find you.”
And then we’ll be one again.
One